I just got an iPhone. This is big for me as I have never had any sort of smart anything let alone a smart phone, And Damned if I haven’t turned into the sort of on his phone all day text message, app happy shmuck I absolutely hate. What happened to me? I think its just about the most rude and annoying thing when you are sitting down with someone and they are constantly checking their phone for updates and Facebook and texting everyone in the whole freaking world. But here I am, hypocrite of all hypocrites, doing the same sort of antisocial annoying crap I have always loathed. Is it just me, or are we becoming less social by becoming more social? I have a Myface page and accounts on blogs and forums and now with my new phone I’m so text happy I can talk to everyone without actual seeing their face or hearing their voice. I can skirt along my responsibilities as a friend by writing on someone’s wall. God forbid I actually have to call anyone. Its all well and good to keep these internet friends but when it really comes down to it, when you need help moving who are you going to call when you haven’t actually seen anyone in 3 years. We are so connected that we are disconnected. What was it like before the cell phone? Does anyone even remember anymore? No cell phone? How will I ever get in touch with anyone ever again. Back in the really not so distant past when you were 13 and you wanted to get a hold of your girlfriend who lived down the street you would call her house and ask her parents if she could talk and if she wasn’t there, tough luck. Your next best bet was to give a note to one of her friends to give to her in 3rd period science. The world didn’t end, we went on living and having friends without myface.
So what went wrong? Nothing. Nothing went wrong. We progressed and like humans do we have evolved and adapted to our new techo-dependent culture. And that’s okay. I don’t mean to sound like Andy Roony, I’m happy with the way technology has evolved to make our lives a little easier, or at least a little more fun. I just think enough is enough. If im sitting with you please PLEASE don’t be on your phone texting or checking you e-mail. Its annoying and I promise I will not do it with you. When your waiting in line with other people, don’t talk as loud as you possibly can. Its annoying and everyone hates you. If you are ordering at the counter at Starbucks, or anywhere else for that matter, Don’t be on the cell phone the whole time. Its rude. Don’t have it on in a restaurant or movie theatre, Seriously EVERYONE hates you when you do that.
I think the bigger issue here is people have just forgotten how to be courteous. Use technology to the fullest but please don’t be an ass. Hold on a second I just got a text…
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
'Haute' Importance
As you all know (or may not know, I don’t know how much you guys pay attention to me.) I love food. Good freshly prepared food. I just don’t understand how people could go out to the Applebee’s and Cheesecake Factories of the world for over priced frozen entrees when you can go to a local Brasserie or Corner Bar and get better, fresher food in a better more friendly atmosphere for the same price. I used to be alone in this thought process save for few other closet gourmands and gastronomists. Funny thing is though; people are actually starting to give a shit about food. It’s a revolution. It has become popular and trendy to hunt out that obscure Thai place, or an out of the way French café. The younger generations, my generation, actually seem to care about good food! And they seem to care about where the food comes from as well. Farmers markets are on the rise and advocates for the so-called “slow foods” movement are popping up everywhere. And no I’m not talking about the Emeril/ Rachel Ray/ Gordon Ramsey/ Food Network BS, But real chefs doing really interesting things all over the country. “Haute Cuisine”, or literally translated “high cooking”, That was once only found in the bigger cities, and for ridiculous amounts of money, can now be found in places like Wichita, or Santa Fe, and for a reasonable price. Every young graduate coming out of the CIA or other culinary schools thinks he’s freaking Escoffier, and that is not a bad thing. They are bringing this passion back to the small towns of America and doing some really wonderful things.
I think this rise in knowledge is due in large part to inflation, distrust in the government regulatory bodies, and just simply people are getting sick of having fat, McDonalds addled bed wetting manatees for children. And quite frankly are tired of being Manatees themselves and have realized that P-90x and Fen-Phen and Ephedra are not going to make you look like Sienna Miller any more than getting drunk will make the Sasquatch at the end of the bar look any prettier. It may work for a little while but sooner or later you will have to face the facts and hope she has a good personality. Food is important, maybe the most important. It is literally what sustains us and keeps us alive. We owe it to ourselves to eat healthy, eat local, and eat fresh. It’s just worth it.
That being said I have a confession to make. I love me some Popeye’s Chicken. Oh man is that good. I don’t know if its fresh or where it comes from, and honestly I don’t want to know. If I knew I would probably not eat it any more. I guess everyone has his weakness, mine is cheap chicken and biscuits.
I think this rise in knowledge is due in large part to inflation, distrust in the government regulatory bodies, and just simply people are getting sick of having fat, McDonalds addled bed wetting manatees for children. And quite frankly are tired of being Manatees themselves and have realized that P-90x and Fen-Phen and Ephedra are not going to make you look like Sienna Miller any more than getting drunk will make the Sasquatch at the end of the bar look any prettier. It may work for a little while but sooner or later you will have to face the facts and hope she has a good personality. Food is important, maybe the most important. It is literally what sustains us and keeps us alive. We owe it to ourselves to eat healthy, eat local, and eat fresh. It’s just worth it.
That being said I have a confession to make. I love me some Popeye’s Chicken. Oh man is that good. I don’t know if its fresh or where it comes from, and honestly I don’t want to know. If I knew I would probably not eat it any more. I guess everyone has his weakness, mine is cheap chicken and biscuits.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Derelict Couture
What is it with kids these days? What the heck are they wearing? I mean, I don’t want to sound like a liver spotted old curmudgeon, but seriously? If you haven’t in a while, just take a walk around the nearest liberal arts college and just have a look. It would seem like the current fashion is to see who can spend the most money to look the most homeless. $180 oil stained T-shirt? Sure! $250 Paint splattered jeans? Yup. (which is ridiculous because ill sell you my old work jeans for a fiver)
I consider myself to be trendy or stylish or whatever, but this is just too far. I just can’t hang with this new “Derelict Couture.” I mean really seriously look around, it looks like were living in a production of Stomp. Its time for someone to take a stand, to say “what the hell are you wearing, nobody likes this. Your friends don’t even like this.” Somebody’s got to do it. I guess I will. There have been some epically bad style trends over the past 2 years, the worst of which is the ed hardy/affliction/ true religion trend.
Ed Hardy, the picture of what is wrong with America. First there was the Ed Hardy shirts on sale for $300 at your favorite boutique and for some reason every celebrity f**ktard and eurotrash wannabe on the planet had to have one. Then they started to show up in Dillards for a little less, then they hit the discount store like Ross for $30 bucks and suddenly every sleazy grease-ball in America could afford it. And they bought them by the truckloads. Christian Audigier, the creator of Ed Hardy, realized the potential of this and started to make absolutely everything with the Ed Hardy logo on it. Sneakers, underwear, car floor mats sold at Wal-Mart, bandanas, air fresheners toilet paper, (seriously) fingernail clippers, socks, and temporary tattoos. It just went to far. If you want to look like Brad Clooney or Orlando Efron, just give it up, you don’t look like them. And no amount of white sunglasses and sequined shirts is going to help. You’re a plumber, deal with it. And don’t go thinking you can get away with Affliction, it’s the same crap just shinier. And don’t even get me started on the True Religion BS. Just because you spend $350 on a pair of jeans doesn’t mean your interesting. It means you’re most likely dense, because no one with a working brain would spend $350 on a pair of jeans and be OK with it. There should be a set of rules for men’s fashion. In fact here they are in case you’re reading this in your Ed Hardy underwear.
1. No white sunglasses, Its black or tortoise shell only.
2. No puka shell necklaces. Period.
3. No jeans with flip-flops after dusk. When you’re going out at night put some damn shoes on. Even during the day its questionable, but ill let it pass
4. Buy clothes that fit, no skinny jeans.
5. Please don’t whiten your teeth or get a fake tan. Everyone can tell and everyone thinks you’re a prick.
6. No sequins or shiny foil on your shirts.
7. No sweatpants or workout clothes in public, Going to see a movie in a red tracksuit is not cool. (and women, NO PAJAMAS IN PUBLIC! I don’t care if your in college and your late for your class, put some clothes on and dry your hair)
That’s all I’ve got right now. If you think of something else please add it to the list. And for god sake, stop getting dressed in the dark, you look like a garbage man.
I consider myself to be trendy or stylish or whatever, but this is just too far. I just can’t hang with this new “Derelict Couture.” I mean really seriously look around, it looks like were living in a production of Stomp. Its time for someone to take a stand, to say “what the hell are you wearing, nobody likes this. Your friends don’t even like this.” Somebody’s got to do it. I guess I will. There have been some epically bad style trends over the past 2 years, the worst of which is the ed hardy/affliction/ true religion trend.
Ed Hardy, the picture of what is wrong with America. First there was the Ed Hardy shirts on sale for $300 at your favorite boutique and for some reason every celebrity f**ktard and eurotrash wannabe on the planet had to have one. Then they started to show up in Dillards for a little less, then they hit the discount store like Ross for $30 bucks and suddenly every sleazy grease-ball in America could afford it. And they bought them by the truckloads. Christian Audigier, the creator of Ed Hardy, realized the potential of this and started to make absolutely everything with the Ed Hardy logo on it. Sneakers, underwear, car floor mats sold at Wal-Mart, bandanas, air fresheners toilet paper, (seriously) fingernail clippers, socks, and temporary tattoos. It just went to far. If you want to look like Brad Clooney or Orlando Efron, just give it up, you don’t look like them. And no amount of white sunglasses and sequined shirts is going to help. You’re a plumber, deal with it. And don’t go thinking you can get away with Affliction, it’s the same crap just shinier. And don’t even get me started on the True Religion BS. Just because you spend $350 on a pair of jeans doesn’t mean your interesting. It means you’re most likely dense, because no one with a working brain would spend $350 on a pair of jeans and be OK with it. There should be a set of rules for men’s fashion. In fact here they are in case you’re reading this in your Ed Hardy underwear.
1. No white sunglasses, Its black or tortoise shell only.
2. No puka shell necklaces. Period.
3. No jeans with flip-flops after dusk. When you’re going out at night put some damn shoes on. Even during the day its questionable, but ill let it pass
4. Buy clothes that fit, no skinny jeans.
5. Please don’t whiten your teeth or get a fake tan. Everyone can tell and everyone thinks you’re a prick.
6. No sequins or shiny foil on your shirts.
7. No sweatpants or workout clothes in public, Going to see a movie in a red tracksuit is not cool. (and women, NO PAJAMAS IN PUBLIC! I don’t care if your in college and your late for your class, put some clothes on and dry your hair)
That’s all I’ve got right now. If you think of something else please add it to the list. And for god sake, stop getting dressed in the dark, you look like a garbage man.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Emotional Gastronomy
I LOVE food, Its one of my favorite things. I love to cook it, I love to eat it, I love to smell it. But most of all I love how food makes me feel. There is nothing else for me. A good Foi-Gras, Duck confit, Nachos, Crab legs, Pho, a curry, hamburgers… Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, As long as it’s fresh and prepared with care. I’m a bit of a foodie. Most people go to the clubs or the bars, My idea of the best night out is trying that new French restaurant, or looking for the best Pho in the city. (Is there anything better than Pho? I’m not sure I have found anything. Salty, rare beef, sometimes a little liver thrown in, just absolute savory goodness.) Food stirs up emotions in us that really noting else can. Think back to when you were a kid. Do you remember what you got for Christmas when you were 7? No, but you remember the taste of the Christmas ham or the gooey warm deliciousness of cookies and milk. Food can do that. It can bring families, even nations, together. It can tear people apart. Wars have been fought over food and its ingredients and peace treaties negotiated over a dinner table.
For me the first time I noticed that I really liked food was when I was maybe 13 years old. We were visiting my aunt and uncle in Clearwater, Florida. They took us to a little Greek restaurant on the sponge docks of the city, and they stunk so bad. I sat down wide eyed at the menu (all in Greek as I remember, maybe I just didn’t know what any of it was though) my uncle ordered and soon a table full of strange and weird looking things was at our table. Crab, stuffed grape leaves, good breads and olives I had never had before. I reached for a stuffed grape leaf and put it on my plate. It was the least sinister looking thing at the table. I cut into it and stuck it, reluctantly, in my mouth. And to my surprise it was cold! But it wasn’t terrible. The flavors were so complex and the spices so overpowering that I had to have more. Thus began my love affair with food.
Fast forward 12 years and I’m still smitten. A good steak? Yes please. Oysters? Why not! Sushi? Oh god yes. There is too much good food out there not to try it all. I will never understand how someone could be a vegetarian. Yes the animals are cute. But they are also dumb. What are these animals gonna do? Go to college? NO! Eat them! Beef is good, duck is SO good. I would just feel like I’m missing out. Not only that, but also, most people In this world don’t have the good fortune to be vegetarian. Remember this, Vegetarianism is a first world luxury; you should count yourself lucky to be able to be one.
I think my favorite thing, and something we don’t have a lot of here in the U.S. is street food. There is a place in Santa Fe that is literally just a makeshift cart that gets set up every day in the main plaza. They have the absolute best Chicken and Machaca fajitas I have ever had. Ever. I have no problem eating something out of a cart or a van, as long as it tastes good.
My next favorite thing is cured meats. Salami, Pate’, proscuto, sausages, smoked salmon and other Charcuterie for me are just the best. A little cheese and bread and I’m in heaven. And my next favorite thing… Who am I kidding? It’s all my favorite thing. Life is too short to eat bad food. So get out there and try something new. You might just fall in love.
For me the first time I noticed that I really liked food was when I was maybe 13 years old. We were visiting my aunt and uncle in Clearwater, Florida. They took us to a little Greek restaurant on the sponge docks of the city, and they stunk so bad. I sat down wide eyed at the menu (all in Greek as I remember, maybe I just didn’t know what any of it was though) my uncle ordered and soon a table full of strange and weird looking things was at our table. Crab, stuffed grape leaves, good breads and olives I had never had before. I reached for a stuffed grape leaf and put it on my plate. It was the least sinister looking thing at the table. I cut into it and stuck it, reluctantly, in my mouth. And to my surprise it was cold! But it wasn’t terrible. The flavors were so complex and the spices so overpowering that I had to have more. Thus began my love affair with food.
Fast forward 12 years and I’m still smitten. A good steak? Yes please. Oysters? Why not! Sushi? Oh god yes. There is too much good food out there not to try it all. I will never understand how someone could be a vegetarian. Yes the animals are cute. But they are also dumb. What are these animals gonna do? Go to college? NO! Eat them! Beef is good, duck is SO good. I would just feel like I’m missing out. Not only that, but also, most people In this world don’t have the good fortune to be vegetarian. Remember this, Vegetarianism is a first world luxury; you should count yourself lucky to be able to be one.
I think my favorite thing, and something we don’t have a lot of here in the U.S. is street food. There is a place in Santa Fe that is literally just a makeshift cart that gets set up every day in the main plaza. They have the absolute best Chicken and Machaca fajitas I have ever had. Ever. I have no problem eating something out of a cart or a van, as long as it tastes good.
My next favorite thing is cured meats. Salami, Pate’, proscuto, sausages, smoked salmon and other Charcuterie for me are just the best. A little cheese and bread and I’m in heaven. And my next favorite thing… Who am I kidding? It’s all my favorite thing. Life is too short to eat bad food. So get out there and try something new. You might just fall in love.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
beautiful babe eating chicken
beautiful babe eating chicken - m4w
“saw u eating at chick-fil-a around 2pm with a bunch of kids (hopefully ur little brothers and sisters!!!). u were rockin it in you blue jeans and white tank top. i know you noticed my bulging biceps. Hopefully we can get to know each other better!!! tell me what color my black tank top was… :0)”
Sometimes when I’m bored at work I look through the Missed Connections on Craigslist. These are so funny. I think it would make a fantastic radio show segment or comedy sketch to reenact some of these hopeless letters to nowhere. I mean, does that guy really think that’s going to work? I mean REALLY!? Maybe his bulging biceps were not quite bulging enough? Or maybe it was that he was forty, balding, and driving a ‘87 GrandAm with mismatched wheels and she was 16? I don’t think that chicken loving babe is going to get back to you anytime soon Romeo. I look through these adds with delight, laughing, But I also feel kind of bad for these people, and good about myself at the same time. Maybe that’s why I like them so much.
beautiful lady at the VA - m4w
“I was sitting in the waiting area and you passed by. I couldn't help but stare because of the low cut blouse and those hard nipples poking through. Were you cold? I'd love to see more of those in person.”
And this guy. REALLY!? Like REALLY REALLY? Has that ever worked? Ever? My only question is why, when you saw them the first time, did you not say “hello, my name is… and I would like to pay for your Chik-Fil-As for the rest of forever and always.” Or. “I really like how your nipples are huge. Would you like to get a bite to eat?” These peoples whole live are probably missed connections. Has ANY of this ever worked? There are probably couples out there. “How did you too meet?” “Craigslist, He said he liked how round my butt was when I passed him at the State Fair. When I saw that on craigslist I knew he was the one!”
You’ve got to hand it to them though, at least there trying something. You cant call them TOTTALY hopeless. What if the girl called? What if she called up and said, “I just read your add on Craigslist, I like my nipples too… Lets get together tomorrow night.” What then? That’s the problem with men, there is no step 2. We whistle at a girls walking down the street. What if she was like “I’m Into that.” What would we do? We don’t know because that’s never happened, we haven’t thought that far ahead yet.
In a way your entire life is made up of missed connections and of course of made connections. Sometimes the connections you miss are just as important. I’m just glad I’m not so hopelessly hopeful that I’m posting, “Hey Baby, Saw you at the Movie theatre, too much of a wuss to go talk to you. Tell me what I was wearing so I know its you.”
“saw u eating at chick-fil-a around 2pm with a bunch of kids (hopefully ur little brothers and sisters!!!). u were rockin it in you blue jeans and white tank top. i know you noticed my bulging biceps. Hopefully we can get to know each other better!!! tell me what color my black tank top was… :0)”
Sometimes when I’m bored at work I look through the Missed Connections on Craigslist. These are so funny. I think it would make a fantastic radio show segment or comedy sketch to reenact some of these hopeless letters to nowhere. I mean, does that guy really think that’s going to work? I mean REALLY!? Maybe his bulging biceps were not quite bulging enough? Or maybe it was that he was forty, balding, and driving a ‘87 GrandAm with mismatched wheels and she was 16? I don’t think that chicken loving babe is going to get back to you anytime soon Romeo. I look through these adds with delight, laughing, But I also feel kind of bad for these people, and good about myself at the same time. Maybe that’s why I like them so much.
beautiful lady at the VA - m4w
“I was sitting in the waiting area and you passed by. I couldn't help but stare because of the low cut blouse and those hard nipples poking through. Were you cold? I'd love to see more of those in person.”
And this guy. REALLY!? Like REALLY REALLY? Has that ever worked? Ever? My only question is why, when you saw them the first time, did you not say “hello, my name is… and I would like to pay for your Chik-Fil-As for the rest of forever and always.” Or. “I really like how your nipples are huge. Would you like to get a bite to eat?” These peoples whole live are probably missed connections. Has ANY of this ever worked? There are probably couples out there. “How did you too meet?” “Craigslist, He said he liked how round my butt was when I passed him at the State Fair. When I saw that on craigslist I knew he was the one!”
You’ve got to hand it to them though, at least there trying something. You cant call them TOTTALY hopeless. What if the girl called? What if she called up and said, “I just read your add on Craigslist, I like my nipples too… Lets get together tomorrow night.” What then? That’s the problem with men, there is no step 2. We whistle at a girls walking down the street. What if she was like “I’m Into that.” What would we do? We don’t know because that’s never happened, we haven’t thought that far ahead yet.
In a way your entire life is made up of missed connections and of course of made connections. Sometimes the connections you miss are just as important. I’m just glad I’m not so hopelessly hopeful that I’m posting, “Hey Baby, Saw you at the Movie theatre, too much of a wuss to go talk to you. Tell me what I was wearing so I know its you.”
Monday, July 26, 2010
My New Swedish Friend
Well, I bought a Swede. Not really actually because it says its build location was Belgium. But I like the Swedish better. As you may have already figured out I am talking about my new Volvo, which I have aptly named Sven. And I think its rather fitting. I now own a car from Asia, Europe, AND the good ol’ USA. The RX8, my Japanese mistress is fast, small, finicky, and ready to fight at the mere mention of its ancestors. Much like the Japanese themselves. It Can’t really take a good punch but is nimble enough to avoid them, This is why it regularly takes down much bigger more powerful German rivals in races all over the world. RX8s have taken out Porsches, Audis and BMWs. More famously beating a BMW M3, a car with over 100 horsepower more than the plucky RX8, around the Top Gear Test track. Astonishing. Good at what it does, but not good at everything. The kind of car you love but don’t want to tell anyone about. Much like a night in Amsterdam.
Up next there is our Commander. This Jeep is a big, ugly, v8 powered monster. It’s the Rocky of the automotive world. He can take punches from that big Russian dude and still walk away, Just a big American bulldog. It’s Vin Diesel, with room for the kids. Why use the door when you can bust through the wall? It’s huge and over the top, maybe even completely unnecessary.
And then there is Sven, with his silver exterior and light beige interior, it might just be the most boring car ever made, but I’m ok with that. Not to big, but not to small. I don’t get the feeling that I might wake up in Vegas with a transvestites g-string swinging from the ceiling fan when I drive it. Its not over the top, its not haughty, its not to fast, it gets good gas mileage, but best of all its predictable. Its willing to wait in line, and it wont Light up a cigarette in public. It’s perfectly happy on the drive to work or just staying home and having a bit of tea. Want to go for a drive to the shops? Sven will help. Want to drive cross-country? He’s more than up for it. Find yourself on a twisty road? Sven likes to get a workout too. It’s the kind of car you would want as a wife. Good looking, comfortable, fast if she wants to be. But still willing and happy just to stay home and make Beef Wellington. Most of all you don’t have to worry about her sleeping with your best friend. Which, and correct me if Im wrong, is what we are all looking for.
Cars are a funny thing, in that you really can have this intense emotional connection with them. We sold a 1997 Saturn, that had 214,000 miles on the odometer, would not start but on the 3rd try (she always did start though) Manual everything, and sucked oil like you wouldn’t believe. And on top of all this we loved that little car, even went as far as got a little wet in the eyes to see her go. And for what? This inanimate hunk of steel and wires will never love us back; will never buy us a card on our birthday. But for some reason we love and cherish them as if they were family. I think is has to do with all the memories experienced in the car. It’s our gateway to the world. Without the automobile we would all be plowing fields and marrying our cousins like the good old days. It’s our escape. You know that with a few dollars you can be in a different time zone in a couple hours, and that is liberating. And I’m looking forward to creating as many memories as I can in with this new member of our family, Sven.
Up next there is our Commander. This Jeep is a big, ugly, v8 powered monster. It’s the Rocky of the automotive world. He can take punches from that big Russian dude and still walk away, Just a big American bulldog. It’s Vin Diesel, with room for the kids. Why use the door when you can bust through the wall? It’s huge and over the top, maybe even completely unnecessary.
And then there is Sven, with his silver exterior and light beige interior, it might just be the most boring car ever made, but I’m ok with that. Not to big, but not to small. I don’t get the feeling that I might wake up in Vegas with a transvestites g-string swinging from the ceiling fan when I drive it. Its not over the top, its not haughty, its not to fast, it gets good gas mileage, but best of all its predictable. Its willing to wait in line, and it wont Light up a cigarette in public. It’s perfectly happy on the drive to work or just staying home and having a bit of tea. Want to go for a drive to the shops? Sven will help. Want to drive cross-country? He’s more than up for it. Find yourself on a twisty road? Sven likes to get a workout too. It’s the kind of car you would want as a wife. Good looking, comfortable, fast if she wants to be. But still willing and happy just to stay home and make Beef Wellington. Most of all you don’t have to worry about her sleeping with your best friend. Which, and correct me if Im wrong, is what we are all looking for.
Cars are a funny thing, in that you really can have this intense emotional connection with them. We sold a 1997 Saturn, that had 214,000 miles on the odometer, would not start but on the 3rd try (she always did start though) Manual everything, and sucked oil like you wouldn’t believe. And on top of all this we loved that little car, even went as far as got a little wet in the eyes to see her go. And for what? This inanimate hunk of steel and wires will never love us back; will never buy us a card on our birthday. But for some reason we love and cherish them as if they were family. I think is has to do with all the memories experienced in the car. It’s our gateway to the world. Without the automobile we would all be plowing fields and marrying our cousins like the good old days. It’s our escape. You know that with a few dollars you can be in a different time zone in a couple hours, and that is liberating. And I’m looking forward to creating as many memories as I can in with this new member of our family, Sven.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Americas lost tallent
Last night I was watching some Americas Got Talent, and you all know, I love me some talent. As I was watching I started thinking about how awesome America is. Where else could you copy popular British TV shows (like Americas Got Talent, the office, American idol ect.) Make them 10 times better and more popular and re-sell them to the world as something new. When the British did pop idol, no one paid any attention. When we do Idol the whole world watches. Of course the British will try and take credit for its success, just like they claim to have invented the sports car, won World War II, and created rock and roll, but its just not true. All of these things were only done because of the good ol’ U.S.A. We invented the car, the British thought it would be fun to take the top of, and we agreed and made the corvette. The Beatles were not very popular until they came to the U.S. and wouldn’t even be around if not for Elvis. The Brits may have started WWII but we rode in as the cavalry in the 11th hour and saved their asses. If it weren’t for us they would all speak German and eat schnitzel. My point is we don’t get enough respect from those limey bastards. But anyway that’s not what this article is about.
As I was watching “The biggest talent competition in the world” as they call it I couldn’t help thinking how nice and easy these people have it. All they have to do is make it through 6 weeks of deliberation by the judges and BAM! Instant stardom, multi-platinum albums and appearances on MTV Cribs, of course with crystaaaaal in the fridge just so everyone knows they’re Baller’. Where else but in The U.S.? I wonder how the surviving members of bands like Led Zeppelin and the Beatles think about this? When they meet Kelly Clarkson are they like “We had to sleep in a van 4 deep and dine on garbage for 10 years before we got our big brake, how bout you?” It just doesn’t seem right. You should have to work, and work damn hard to make the kind of money they are making. I wonder if they even appreciate it? I think the show should be called "Americas' Lost Ambition." What happened to the country of hard work? Of Henry Ford and Teddy Roosevelt? When we wanted something we would take it, or build it, and we wouldn't stop until we succeeded. Even if it was hard. Now it just seem as if we couldn't be bothered if we cant find instructions on Google. Why do you think the lottery is so successful? Its a quick fix. We have become a country of drug addicts, getting high on the things we think we are inherently entitled to. Or own quick fixes.
This brings me to the myth of college. When a child is sent away to college he is told, “go to college so you can get a good job.” This is true but its also misleading. Just because you have a degree doesn’t mean shit, as I have come to find out. You will get jobs with your $100,000 degree in which your managers, the people who are making more money than you, only made it as far as a GED. Education is a powerful tool, but it is not an all access pass. You still have to work, and work hard.
I’m working hard for the things I want. My college education wasn’t free and I don’t make a six-figure income. But that’s OK. I’m working on it. In the mean time I’m Happy with what I do have, because my daddy didn’t build me a brand new house and I need to thank him everyday for that.
As I was watching “The biggest talent competition in the world” as they call it I couldn’t help thinking how nice and easy these people have it. All they have to do is make it through 6 weeks of deliberation by the judges and BAM! Instant stardom, multi-platinum albums and appearances on MTV Cribs, of course with crystaaaaal in the fridge just so everyone knows they’re Baller’. Where else but in The U.S.? I wonder how the surviving members of bands like Led Zeppelin and the Beatles think about this? When they meet Kelly Clarkson are they like “We had to sleep in a van 4 deep and dine on garbage for 10 years before we got our big brake, how bout you?” It just doesn’t seem right. You should have to work, and work damn hard to make the kind of money they are making. I wonder if they even appreciate it? I think the show should be called "Americas' Lost Ambition." What happened to the country of hard work? Of Henry Ford and Teddy Roosevelt? When we wanted something we would take it, or build it, and we wouldn't stop until we succeeded. Even if it was hard. Now it just seem as if we couldn't be bothered if we cant find instructions on Google. Why do you think the lottery is so successful? Its a quick fix. We have become a country of drug addicts, getting high on the things we think we are inherently entitled to. Or own quick fixes.
This brings me to the myth of college. When a child is sent away to college he is told, “go to college so you can get a good job.” This is true but its also misleading. Just because you have a degree doesn’t mean shit, as I have come to find out. You will get jobs with your $100,000 degree in which your managers, the people who are making more money than you, only made it as far as a GED. Education is a powerful tool, but it is not an all access pass. You still have to work, and work hard.
I’m working hard for the things I want. My college education wasn’t free and I don’t make a six-figure income. But that’s OK. I’m working on it. In the mean time I’m Happy with what I do have, because my daddy didn’t build me a brand new house and I need to thank him everyday for that.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Eccentric Billionaire
Dealing with wealthy people all day, I tend to spend a lot of time dreaming of being rich. Not just buy a range rover rich but Buy Land Rover as a company rich. To be a billionaire would be very interesting. You would be one of only a few people in the world to be able to say that you worked hard and as a result can do or buy absolutely anything you want, even islands or countries. The problem is though, I’m a little eccentric, and therefore wouldn’t buy things like land rover. I would, most likely be doing odd things just to pass the time.
My first order of business as an eccentric billionaire would be to rent billboards all along the highways of America. On these billboards I would put the harder letters of the alphabet game, you know, the game kids play to pass time in the car. You will inevitably get stuck on a Q or a Z at some point. With this system you would be driving down the road, 60 miles an hour, “X!” some little blond haired son of the mailman will shout. “It was just on that billboard!” as the parents are looking at each other thinking, “I wonder what that was an advertisement for?” and the dad thinking, “none of us have blond hair...”
And lets face it; I think I would have a fleet of Ferraris. Chris Evans, the British talk show host, has like 15 of them, and every last one is white. I like his thinking. I think I would get suits tailored to match my cars. I also think I would build a race track on some property just outside of town and hold a monthly raffle. It would cost 1 dollar or so to enter, just to cover expenses, and the winners would be taken out and allowed to just thrash around the track in the Ferrari of their choice. I think it would be a hit. I would also keep peacocks close a hand, just cause’ they are cool.
I might even hire a band, or at least a guy with a boom box to follow me around and play theme music everywhere I went. Of course he would have full benefits, a 401K and the works. He would play triumphant music when I walked in a room, tender inspirational music when I was telling my wife I love her, and something like chariots of fire when I was at the gym or running on the beach. My life would literally sound like a movie. Awesome.
The thing about being a billionaire is that you would most likely be very lonely. You would have no one to play with because no one has the same toys as you. Its like when you were a kid and your friends are all watching a movie that you’ve seen three times already. It gets boring. They do say that money doesn’t buy happiness, but all I’m asking is for the chance to prove the theory.
My first order of business as an eccentric billionaire would be to rent billboards all along the highways of America. On these billboards I would put the harder letters of the alphabet game, you know, the game kids play to pass time in the car. You will inevitably get stuck on a Q or a Z at some point. With this system you would be driving down the road, 60 miles an hour, “X!” some little blond haired son of the mailman will shout. “It was just on that billboard!” as the parents are looking at each other thinking, “I wonder what that was an advertisement for?” and the dad thinking, “none of us have blond hair...”
And lets face it; I think I would have a fleet of Ferraris. Chris Evans, the British talk show host, has like 15 of them, and every last one is white. I like his thinking. I think I would get suits tailored to match my cars. I also think I would build a race track on some property just outside of town and hold a monthly raffle. It would cost 1 dollar or so to enter, just to cover expenses, and the winners would be taken out and allowed to just thrash around the track in the Ferrari of their choice. I think it would be a hit. I would also keep peacocks close a hand, just cause’ they are cool.
I might even hire a band, or at least a guy with a boom box to follow me around and play theme music everywhere I went. Of course he would have full benefits, a 401K and the works. He would play triumphant music when I walked in a room, tender inspirational music when I was telling my wife I love her, and something like chariots of fire when I was at the gym or running on the beach. My life would literally sound like a movie. Awesome.
The thing about being a billionaire is that you would most likely be very lonely. You would have no one to play with because no one has the same toys as you. Its like when you were a kid and your friends are all watching a movie that you’ve seen three times already. It gets boring. They do say that money doesn’t buy happiness, but all I’m asking is for the chance to prove the theory.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Viva Las Vegas
I exited my plane in Las Vegas on Sunday night and prepared for a 3-hour layover before my connection to Albuquerque arrived. (which actually turned into a six and a half hour nightmare, ending in me arriving home at 3:00am and then having to go to work at 7:30 the very same morning) I was returning from my weekend in Spokane for my sister-in-law’s graduation. I had 3 hours to kill and I was in Vegas. Ok so maybe just the airport but it was still Vegas. I left the jet-way, went to the bathroom, and promptly lost 30 bucks in one of the airports many slot machines. I believe this one was a wheel of fortune themed slot; anyway, it wasn’t very fortunate. After my initial loss and disappointment I decided to go and find something to fill my tummy.
Airports are funny; no matter where you are it always seems like the same, people, whether you are in Kansas or Poughkeepsie. The biggest group one finds at the airport is families heading out to Disney World, or Hawaii or wherever. Next up are your businessmen, always rushed, always with a coffee stain on their crisp white shirt and always talking about their connections. (“I got a puddle jumper comin' out of LAX heading straight for ABQ and from there I catch the red-eye out to BUF…”)
Next you have your college freshmen and sophomores heading home for spring break because mommy wont let them go to Cancun, and last but not least you have your random travelers, people like I was last weekend, heading out to Abrahams bar-mitzvah, or out to visit an ailing mother, or, in my case, visiting their family for a graduation etcetera.
But as I looked around the Las Vegas Airport, It was different, it was … a little off. In the Las Vegas airport you have a plethora of still drunk sorority girls and drug addled frat boys passed out on the seats, the floor, and frankly anywhere else they could find a spot to rest what was left of their over stimulated brains, 45 year old Muscle bound meatheads with more bedazzles on there shirts and pants than their highly plastic “I 50 but don’t I look like I’m 25?” girlfriends, showgirls just off a shift working their second job a Sbarro, and a full wedding party for a couple of 19 year olds that will no doubt be divorced in 3 months. All this on top of your vacationing families, businessmen, and other random travelers, all in all it makes for some good people watching, people trying to get that last little bit of the Vegas lifestyle before they have to go back to their real jobs as accountants and plumbers.
I kind-of like that Vegas exists. Its comforting in some weird way to know that if I go completely mental and decide to dress up and act like Elvis, or better yet Marilyn Monroe everyday for the rest of my life, Ill have some place to go. A place where I can be as strange as I want because I guarantee that just down the street in front of the Palms there is someone much more peculiar and more twisted than I. So Viva Las Vegas, but just remember, not everything that happens there will stay there. Except your money, that will definitely stay there
Airports are funny; no matter where you are it always seems like the same, people, whether you are in Kansas or Poughkeepsie. The biggest group one finds at the airport is families heading out to Disney World, or Hawaii or wherever. Next up are your businessmen, always rushed, always with a coffee stain on their crisp white shirt and always talking about their connections. (“I got a puddle jumper comin' out of LAX heading straight for ABQ and from there I catch the red-eye out to BUF…”)
Next you have your college freshmen and sophomores heading home for spring break because mommy wont let them go to Cancun, and last but not least you have your random travelers, people like I was last weekend, heading out to Abrahams bar-mitzvah, or out to visit an ailing mother, or, in my case, visiting their family for a graduation etcetera.
But as I looked around the Las Vegas Airport, It was different, it was … a little off. In the Las Vegas airport you have a plethora of still drunk sorority girls and drug addled frat boys passed out on the seats, the floor, and frankly anywhere else they could find a spot to rest what was left of their over stimulated brains, 45 year old Muscle bound meatheads with more bedazzles on there shirts and pants than their highly plastic “I 50 but don’t I look like I’m 25?” girlfriends, showgirls just off a shift working their second job a Sbarro, and a full wedding party for a couple of 19 year olds that will no doubt be divorced in 3 months. All this on top of your vacationing families, businessmen, and other random travelers, all in all it makes for some good people watching, people trying to get that last little bit of the Vegas lifestyle before they have to go back to their real jobs as accountants and plumbers.
I kind-of like that Vegas exists. Its comforting in some weird way to know that if I go completely mental and decide to dress up and act like Elvis, or better yet Marilyn Monroe everyday for the rest of my life, Ill have some place to go. A place where I can be as strange as I want because I guarantee that just down the street in front of the Palms there is someone much more peculiar and more twisted than I. So Viva Las Vegas, but just remember, not everything that happens there will stay there. Except your money, that will definitely stay there
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Great White North
I’ve just got off the plane in Spokane. Good God flying is a pain in the ass. I walked out of the stuffy plane do a river of water falling from the sky. In New Mexico we call it rain, here they just call it everyday. I stepped off the plain and into an atmosphere so thick with air I felt like I could chew. That what going from 6,000’ above sea level to damn near close to it will do to you. I immediately noticed when I reached the terminal, other than that I had grossly miscalculated the weather, how absolutely white everyone is. And I don’t mean white strictly by the color of skin but something more, deeper I guess. This is small town America. I gaze around me while I wait for Rachel to hurry up and get here and almost everyone has that dumpy, meat and potatoes look you would expect to find in rural Kansas. The kind of look that, if you’re from a city as ethnically diverse as Albuquerque, is actually startling and strange to see. Of course the north was settled largely by Scandinavians who upon landing somewhere in the middle of the east coast, a temperate climate, decided that this was just to normal, and headed inland. And as they traveled they drank, as is the custom for Finns’ or Danes’ or whatever, and as they drank they started to drift slightly to the right eventually ending up in the north. When they finally got here and realized that it more than slightly resembled home I’m sure the women were happy and the husbands were pissed.
“Ingrid, Why did we come all this way, uproot the children and family, spend what little life savings we had and travel hundreds of thousands of miles for the same crappy climate we left?" They would say.
“Calm down Sven, at least theirs plenty of pine for a cabin. We can make it just the same!”
He dreaming of sipping Mai Thais’ with scantily clad natives in Florida, she’s making a pine wreath for the door.
“This is not what the brochure promised.”
People of the north are resilient and loyal, because they have to be. Or rather had to be to survive, and its still holding on from the age of gold rushes and Indian wars (a group would have had to stick together) to the new era of Wal-Marts and KFC. And I kind of like that. You get the feeling everyone has got your back, as opposed to feeling like you have to watch it. But it cold, and I’m not prepared for it. When I left Albuquerque it was going to be 100 degrees, It 51 and raining and all I brought was one light sweater. I guess I should have checked the weather. Ill Just have to suck it up and deal. Welcome to the great white north…
“Ingrid, Why did we come all this way, uproot the children and family, spend what little life savings we had and travel hundreds of thousands of miles for the same crappy climate we left?" They would say.
“Calm down Sven, at least theirs plenty of pine for a cabin. We can make it just the same!”
He dreaming of sipping Mai Thais’ with scantily clad natives in Florida, she’s making a pine wreath for the door.
“This is not what the brochure promised.”
People of the north are resilient and loyal, because they have to be. Or rather had to be to survive, and its still holding on from the age of gold rushes and Indian wars (a group would have had to stick together) to the new era of Wal-Marts and KFC. And I kind of like that. You get the feeling everyone has got your back, as opposed to feeling like you have to watch it. But it cold, and I’m not prepared for it. When I left Albuquerque it was going to be 100 degrees, It 51 and raining and all I brought was one light sweater. I guess I should have checked the weather. Ill Just have to suck it up and deal. Welcome to the great white north…
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