New Book

I am working on a new book called:

9/12: Minor Catastrophes and Bad Things that Happened the Day After that Nobody Noticed Because of What Happened the Day Before.

(I'm thinking of shortening the title)

Brilliant Bandits of the Night

While I have a great love for badgers, possums, gophers and other such woodland creatures, I have both an immense fascination with, and illogical fear of, the raccoon.

The raccoon is both glamorous and terrifying to this usually fearless lad. The raccoon, or “El Mapache” as the people of the Andean mountains respectfully call it (to be fair, all Spanish-speaking people call the raccoon, el mapache, and there are no raccoons in the Andean Mountains, but I like to write with a little “flare”), is a true anomaly.

One of the most intelligent animals by any account, they have learned to maintain their idyllic forest lifestyle and habitat, while still taking full advantage of the delights and advances of human civilization through periodic raids into backyard trash bins and less-than-secure campsites. Unlike other mammals that seek to prey on the goods and sundries of humanity, such as meece (the accurate plural of mouse- see Roget’s Accurate Word Thesaurus), they outwit, outlast, and outplay all human attempts to trap them or keep them away from trash bins in neighborhoods near to woodlands. El Mapache cannot be trapped.

And I would know. One of my true passions and hobbies is badger and marmot trapping. Of course, I do not trap them for their meat or sell their pelts. In fact, due to my immense affection for woodland creatures, I always set them free. And the traps I set are painless. I have simply found it impossible to get the undivided attention of a marmot, or even a second glance before scurrying off into the woods, unless they are trapped before you.

But it is well known in the trapper community that raccoons cannot be trapped. Not that I would ever attempt to trap “El Mapache” in fact the idea of even trying to trap a raccoon makes me shiver in the dark of night on late winter nights (or perhaps it is the cold). But, regardless of my personal fears and trepidations regarding said cunning creature, they simply know better. Some would even say, they are our betters.

So be wary and respectful of our ring-tailed allies, they may disappoint on occasion when you have thrown out a box of Krispy Kreme, only to remember the next morning their was one left, head to the trash bin to fetch it, and find that “El Mapache” has paid a visit.

I'm Back

I am back, and all in one piece. I was away for some time, and unable to check in with this blog.

I was kidnapped by a rather ill-tempered goblin who inhabits our office. He feeds off of discarded printer paper, paper clips, and other such fare. He spends most of his time sneaking around causing fax machines to malfunction, printers to get jammed, computers to crash, and that kind of thing.

At the dawn of when sexual harassment in the office became wrong and punishable, he was known to whisper particularly vulgar come-ons into the ears of office cads and 'good ol' boys' talking to attractive co-workers. His nefarious influence in this regard led to numerous disciplinary actions being taken against those who had been "taken" under his influence, up to and including firings of many men who were competent workers/not-so-competent flirters.

At any rate, he kidnapped me one night when I was working late, and put me in an empty cubicle, with four sides rather than three, thus rendering it unescapable.

I have been trapped there the past three weeks, until finally one of my co-workers found one of the "rescue me" paper airplanes I had thrown over the threshold of the entrapping cubicle (fortunately, I was a carrying a pen and legal pad at the time of the kidnapping).

By the way, Bic ink does not make for a bad cocktail at all once one grows particularly thirsty.

To make a short story shorter, I was rescued and am back, and now very wary with regards to the mischief of previously described goblin.

Were he here, in front of me now, I would have only this to say: "Vive la blog!"

'In the Know' Weekly

‘In the Know’ Weekly: The Best of the Week In Pop Culture*

To be ‘In’, You have to ‘Know’…*

(brought to you by the folks at Sinergy)

Quotes of the Week:

From Lorell Skylar, Culture Correspondent, WB news:

“Paris Hilton’s appeal is that she’s edgy and rich. She is redefining what it means to be an heiress in America.”

From ABC’s “The Bachelor”, Jesse Palmer (fifth “Bachelor”)

“Jayne wanted to stay. But I just decided that it was important for me and for the girls not to have any sleepovers. Because I just need to stay focused on finding my soulmate.”


Article of the Week:

Hilary Duff Shows A 'Girl Can Rock' — Safely — At New York Show

Singer maintains her anti-Britney image at Uniondale concert.

by James Montgomery, MTV News

UNIONDALE, New York — They came in minivans, SUVs and station wagons. They performed synchronized dance routines in the parking lot, set up tailgating spreads with apple slices and tortilla chips, and squealed with delight ... loudly and often. An army of young Hilary Duff-ettes, many of them dragging bewildered parents and bored older brothers by the hand, ready to dance, sing and scream for their idol.

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Sinergy is: Shap Sweeney, Nigel Kittenpants, and Hamlet Pigworth

Vending Machines

I'm in a Kinko's and I just went to get a coke from the machine and it cost a $1.25.

Fortunately I had a 1 dollar bill and a quarter on me.

But it made me wonder: Do they make more money by increasing the price to that, or loose more money by people who go to get a drink, but don't have the right change, so they leave and don't buy one.

If I was CEO of Coke or Pepsi I would have sodas of different sizes in the vending machines, so that whatever change you had you could use, but the size would depend on how much change you had.

Example: A three dimes and nickel would get you one shot of coke.

But I am no longer CEO of Coke or Pepsi, and though I will always remember those days fondly, I have moved on to bigger and better things (or smaller and worse things, depending on your perspective)

The Saga of Michael Lohan

Never before has the country been held in such rapt attention as a saga played out in the public eye, perhaps since the Iran-hostage affair during the Carter presidency, as it is by the saga of actress(?), musician(?), media whore(!) Lindsay Lohan's estranged father Michael.

As of Feb. 24th Michael Lohan,has just racheted the drama of his trials and travails from extremely interesting to fascinating today by...um, probably either getting a DUI, or making a death threat or something... and as a result has graced the covers of not one, but two major New York City-based newspapers today. I'm not kidding- check out the nearest newstand- you'll see them front and center.

According to the Village Voice (which is not one of the publications on the Michael Lohan-cover bandwagon), since last May, he's been mentioned 30 times in the News, 26 times in the Post, and 17 times in Newsday. Glaringly, the New York Times has never reported the story.

Is it not enough that we have to see Lindsay Lohan grace the covers of magazines and tabloids everyweek, see photos of her newest cd or movie plastered on billboards and taxis all over the city, and know more about her relationship with that foreign guy from That 70's Show (and not by choice) than we know about our next door neighbors? She may be famous for all the wrong reasons, but she is in movies, and does have a cd out, so that kinda makes it ok that magazines like In Touch, Star, and US Weekly would maker her a frequent headline- that's what those publications are dedicated to anyway: the coverage of lame celebrities.

But for her Dad, who as far as I can tell has done nothing to be newsworthy since spurting his redheaded-gene carrying sperm up Lindsay's moms birth canal 18 years ago, to now be gracing the covers and headlines of major 'news'-targeted newspapers, is well... reassuring I suppose.

At least we know that our country and media has its priorities straight as we continue to loose Americans and Iraqis daily in Iraq, continue the merest begginnings of aiding and rebuilding in the devastation of the tsunami, and face four more years of a Presidential administration that is rolling back more essential environmental conservation legislation and civil liberties (including abortion if he gets his way) than any administration perhaps in American history.

God forbid we find out anything about how the relief efforts are going in Southeast Asia, as millions rebuild their lives and struggle to survive, before we know what Michael Lohan has gotten himself into the night before.

I, for one, wake up every morning and cannot concentrate on anything until I know how the latest chapter in the Michael Lohan saga has played out.

Recent Losses

It is really amazing the number of truly amazing talents we have lost so very recently.

Maybe it just really strikes me, because they have all had an influence on me, or in my particular area of interest- comedy.

But in recent months-

Rodney Dangerfield, one of the few remaining true 'living legend' comics, and with Alan King only months before, when Pryor and Klein go, an entire era of pioneer comics will have passed.

Johnny Carson- perhaps the who, despite not being a comic, has had a bigger influence on the evolution of modern comedy than anyone else.

Arthur Miller- probably the greatest American playwrite of the past century- Death of a Salesman and The Crucible capture the hopeless aspects of American suburban and consumer life, and America's dangerous tendency towards a group mentality, repespectively, in a way that astounds one that two such dazzling and different works could have come from the mind of the same man.

And finally, Hunter S. Thompson- my hero, see below.

R.I.P Hunter S. Thompson

Hunter S. Thompson was one of my all time heros. His writing style has been often imitated, never duplicated, and his fiction and non-fitction books, as well as his journalism, are some of the funniest, most politically savvy, and truly original writings I have read anywhere.

He gave new meaning to the term 'functioning alchoholic' given that he was perpetually wasted during so many of his infamous campaign trail coverages, and for so much of his career in general, and yet churned out such brilliant work. That takes a particular kind of talent and bravado that few have.

Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas and The Rum Diary are both huge inspirations to my own writing.

To commerorate his passing yesterday, I went a rented what was probably his final appearance, a documentary from last year entitled Breakfast with Hunter. I reccomend it to any other Thompson admirers.

While I have no idea what the circumstances surrounding his decision to take his own life, somehow it almost seems like an appropriate way to die: always the rebel, he would not let outside forces dictate to him when he would die, he chose when and where he was ready.

I wish he had stuck around to write a few more books, and oversee the production of the upcoming film version of The Rum Diary, but the truth is, that cat packed nine lifetimes into one, and with his voracious appetite for drugs and booze, it is amazing he lived as long as he did.

Rest in peace, Hunter S. Thompson, we will not see a writer who manages to so thoroughly reinvent journalism and prose writing as you did for a long time, if ever.