I Had A Big Day Off

I tell you: every sentence starts with I.

I woke up at 9 and went on my computer. I felt bad from the night before. I listened to "Killing the Blues" 20-30 times in a row. I ate a bowl of honey nut cheerios. I made a dvd. I thought about reading. I made myself a sandwich. I went outside to play basketball, but the courts were still covered in snow. I stared at them for a while and tried to hatch a plan. I walked around industrial Bushwick, looking inside mechanic shops. I stepped into the garage at Little Man Auto Body and Truck Repair four blocks from home. I spoke with the Hispanic man about a metal shovel that looked unused. I also spotted a push broom. I convinced him to let me borrow them. I left my basketball and water bottle as collateral, though the water bottle wasn't necessary. I walked back to the courts. I spent the next hour shoveling one half of the court. I used the push broom to get rid of the excess water. I considered that this is what people do when they have ennui. I wished for my water bottle. I finished and returned the equipment and got my ball and water back. I tried to play but it was still a little wet. Nothing is absolute. I just shot free throws. I went back in after a half hour or so. I listened to "Killing the Blues" a couple more times. I read a book that documents book-banning incidents in America. I opened the windows because I thought the apartment smelled smoky. I imagined a short story where boys at a school force the innocent child of book-banning parents to sit in a classroom at lunch and listen to them read the book in question. I went back outside to play basketball before it got dark. I told a black kid how to hop the fence because it was after five o'clock. I shot with him until it was dark. I asked about his life, and he claimed to be the MVP of the NYC Private School Athletic Association as a sophomore. I didn't necessarily believe him, but he was very good. I googled him this morning, and it turns out he is a good player for the JV team, but not Varsity. I went in and had missed calls to meet a friend for dinner. I took a shower. I read more of the book-banning book. I went and bought lunch meat and wheat bread at the organic grocery store. I thought about watching The Wire or a netflix movie. I chose to read a different book, 1919. I messed around on the computer until midnight. I went to bed and slept well.

I had a big day off.

OSCAR THOUGHTS FROM A DUDE WHO MATTERS

A lot of people will be chiming in with their thoughts on the 80th Academy Awards, so I thought I'd better join their ranks in case there's a party or a club. Normally I don't enjoy the Oscars, but this time around I was a little psyched because it was a great year for "mainstream" Hollywood movies, and I felt that, by and large, the best were nominated. It's easier to write a bunch of bullet points than to pen a cohesive piece, so here we go... *Armed with a tube of cookie dough and a six-pack of Dogfish Head "Raison D'Etre" beer, ("Reason For Being" - a great name for alcohol), I settled in at 7:30 to catch some of the pre-show hoopla. Fifteen minutes later, my step-dad called, and we yelled and cursed about Duke basketball right up to the broadcast. Summary: Nolan Smith should replace Slow Whitey, aka Greg Paulus, at the point. *Jon Stewart is a great host. My favorite one-liner came when he noted that even Norbit had earned a nomination. "I think it's great. Too often, the Academy ignores movies that aren't good." *I caught snippets of Barbara Walters' pre-show interviews. She is a smug, preaching, self-satisfied woman. I hope I spelled her first name wrong. *Going in to the show, I thought the Most Obvious award was Daniel Day-Lewis for best actor. But as the musical nominees were performed over the course of three hours, that honor was transferred to Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova for "Falling Slowly" from Once. It was so clearly superior to the other four songs that I would have been irrationally angry if they'd lost. At that point, I was on Raison D'Etre number four. Also, they couldn't find anything better than the three, count 'em three, songs from Enchanted? Each one was a lame-o 1950s cookie cutter show tune. And I like Amy Adams- she's beautiful and apparently talented- but it's got to be embarrassing to sing that "Happy Working Song" in front of anything but a room full of five year-olds. That performance narrowly beat out the adoring gaze of Cormac McCarthy's son for "Most Uncomfortable Moment." When the folks from Once won the Oscar, though, it was one of the night's best moments. Gotta love seeing the Irish take a prize, and they seemed genuinely thrilled to be there. My Gaelic heart thumped with pride to hear the brogue-ish "Tanks" on film's biggest stage. It also led to one of Stewart's funniest quips of the night- "Man, that guy was so arrogant"- and a classy gesture when he brought Marketa back out after the break to say her thank-yous. *Nice to see Javier Bardem take the inevitable Supporting Actor prize. I'm not quite sure how the role of Anton Chigurh is considered a supporting actor and not one of the two male leads, but so be it. I got a few goosebumps when he spoke to his mother in Spanish. Then I wiped some cookie dough off my shirt. *The best non-Oscar moment of the night came from an unlikely source- a JCPenney's commercial. The ad was introducing a new line of clothing for dudes who forget to take the tag off their jeans, but the song caught my attention immediately. It was a beautiful folk-ish tune with great harmony between male and female voices. I looked it up online, and it turned out to be a cover of a song called "Killing the Blues" by country-music legend John Prine. The collaborating artists are Allison Krauss of Union Station fame, whose voice I've loved since O Brother Where Art Thou, and former Led Zeppelin (edit for KQE: LEGENDARY) front man Robert Plant. Apparently these two released an album together in October. Who knew? Anyway, I downloaded the song and it lives up to its billing and then some. I hate to describe music, since you can't experience it any way but the right way, so I'll just say that if you want the song, leave a comment with your e-mail and I can send it to you. On first listen, the rest of the album sounds pretty good too. *Anybody else sick of movies about rich people, past or present, in England? How much mileage can we get from the make-emotions-seem-more-profound-since-they're-coming -from-an-obnoxiously-repressed-culture formula? And on that note, what the hell is Woody Allen's problem? His bread and butter is making movies about neurotic Jewish people in New York. I'm not saying an artist shouldn't branch out, but it's hard to watch the ongoing train wreck of his murder-obsessed British period. The ghost scene in Match Point, to take one example, is one of the worst ham-fisted moments in cinema, and it's hard to imagine the guy who made Annie Hall and Manhattan stooping to that level. *Tilda Swinton is weird. I want to have tea at her home. I want her to silently judge me from across a table littered with controversial objects she dares me to comment on. I want to kiss her and have her bite me hard on the lower lip, and when I step back and say "wha-", she is already walking away. I want to try in vain to decipher her poetic non-sequiturs at a fountain in the middle of America. She will only smile and twirl in the wind, and when I least expect it, she will push me into the fountain and leap in after me. Her striking red hair will splay out in the water, and she will whisper "I am a Naiad." She will leave me at a Greyhound bus station in Cleveland, wearing a white dress she bought from a runaway bride in Toledo. Tilda Swinton is weird. *I think Marion Cotillard won by default this year. I'm not saying she wasn't great. I didn't see La Vie en Rose, but I heard excellent things. It's just that I can't imagine a French actress winning the award for a French movie in a year where there was a legitimate American contender. Who was her competition this year? Nobody was going to pick Ellen Page, good as she was. Too young. Laura Linney played herself, as usual, in The Savages. Effective, but not Best Actress material. Elizabeth: The Golden Age was a bad movie, so forget Cate Blanchett. I was hoping Julie Christie, one of my favorite actresses from the golden decade (70s) of American film, would win, but her movie was a low-profile Canadian affair that didn't stand much of a chance. Good for Marion and all, but I'd say she's the beneficiary of a bad year for leading ladies. *Diablo Cody. Jesus. How could this award happen? I'm not even someone who hates Juno. I thought Jason Reitman, the director, had an amazingly deft touch. I liked the music. I liked the acting. I'll even admit that after a while, parts affected me. But the movie's weakness, which everybody knew, was the too-hip-for-its-own-good writing. It makes you cringe at times with its smarmy, pop-intellectual tone. Like I said, the story is good, the film ended up being okay, and its possible to get over the dialogue if you come in with an open mind and stick it out. But an Oscar for Best Screenplay? Come on. Tony Gilroy wrote one of the best suspense thrillers I've ever seen in Michael Clayton. It was smart, topical, compelling, etc. It had terrific characters. It was a showcase in superb film writing. He was in a different class, and this was the worst screw-job of the night. I like Diablo, and it was cool to see someone so unconventional win an award, but I can't say it was deserved. *Daniel Day-Lewis. What more can you say? To think that the guy who accepted that award, the soft-spoken Englishman with two earrings and a gentle bearing, was the guy who played Daniel Plainview...unbelievable. It's one of the best performances we'll ever see in a film. *And to cap off the night, in the long-standing Oscar tradition, a filmmaker (or in this case two) gets rewarded for work they've done in the past. No Country For Old Men was a strong movie. There's no denying it. Chigurh is one of the best eerie characters ever, and the Coens stuck to their guns with Cormac's death-morality metaphor. I saw it twice in theaters, and liked it even better the second time. But There Will Be Blood is a classic, a once-in-a-lifetime effort that combines an excellent script, excellent directing, and excellent performances. Watching it on the big screen was like a revelation. Hollywood films are inundated with hype, and sometimes, as a moviegoer, it's impossible not to feel numb to the whole process. Then you see a phenomenal work of art like this, and, corny as it sounds, the idea of film's potential hits you like a hammer. P.T. Anderson made a movie that defied the various diseases plaguing American cinema, and rose to a level that can't be called anything but stunning. It's something that Joel and Ethan Coen have done before, but it's not something they did this year. When they announced Best Director, I watched P.T. Anderson in the split screen. To his credit, he kept his smile, but there was a slight grimace, and you could see the hurt, subtle as it was, pervading his expression. Here's a guy, a true talent, who went out and made the movie of his life. Anyone who's ever tried to put together something as small as a five-minute short knows how challenging filmmaking can be, how many problems you have to overcome, and how improbable it is to have any kind of result at all. But P.T. Anderson did it. From nothing but an old book by Upton Sinclair, he wrote, directed, and produced the best picture of the year. For his troubles, he went home empty-handed. In three or five or eight or ten years, he'll probably win Best Director or Best Picture for a film that doesn't reach the same plateau. That's just how it works. But he wasn't recognized this year, and it's a shame. So them's the Oscars. I had a good time, I must say. I hope you did too. Have a nice week. Be safe.

Ideas

In gym class in elementary school, they taught us how to keep score in bowling.

Why is there no standing long jump event in the Olympics?

It's impossible to succeed in life with the first name Brad (this can be empirically proven).

If you take an extra blanket, roll it up until it is roughly in the form of a human, and spoon with it while pretending that it is a woman, you are pathetic.

Crowds love me.

A monk is a person you have to admire. There isn't a way around it.

David Denby in his article on the Coen Brothers insinuated that it was far-fetched for Llewelyn Moss to return to the scene of his crime just to offer a dying man a drink of water in No Country For Old Men. In fact, he was returning at night with the jug of water to wipe his fingerprints from the door handles he had touched in order to cover his tracks. David Denby is a film critic for The New Yorker, and should not make this kind of stupid mistake.

I'm starting a softball team, and I'd like to guarantee that we'll go undefeated.

Nobody can stop thinking about Barack Obama.

They say 3/4 of the Earth is ocean. But, what percentage of the ocean is salt? And isn't salt considered "land," since it's a solid? A salt mine, for example, you would consider land. We need to check on this.

If you pick ten people to ask on dates, how many will say yes, and, of those, how many will it be possible to marry? Answer: it all depends.

"Grab the brass ring" is a phrase that comes from carousels. It may be the only one. Unless you count "merry-go-round" as a phrase, which I guess it is.

Time is an idea, but it's also a thing. In that sense, it's like karma. But if I told you that karma was the Buddhist word for time, I'd be lying. Then I'd have wasted time and invited bad karma on myself. See how the world works? It's confusing, and that's why only people who hate themselves care about things like philosophy.

Owning Part 12

Brian makes his second appearance in the "Jes mindin' mah bisness, bein' a citizen, gettin' owned on g-chat" section of the blog, and goes down in history as the first person to get owned in two lines:


Brian: You like The Concretes?

Me: No, I prefer Pavement.


















OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(people running around yelling, waving hands above their heads, pumping fists and grinning)









Someone get that sumbitch a fat piece of corn on the sob.

Another G-Chat Owning

I was in my sixth hour of g-chat browsing today when I came across the following status message from a fellow on my list:

"I've got more game than a wildlife preserve."


If you're a big fan of wildlife preserves, like me, the absurdity of this statement is immediately evident. These areas are designated to protect animals. The term "game" refers to animals that can legally be hunted, of which there are none on a preserve.

In effect, this person was saying that they had no game. What folly! I informed him in no uncertain terms:


Me: a wildlife preserve is for the conservation of animal and plant species
Me: therefore the animals aren't "game"
Me: because they can't be hunted
Me: you just dissed yourself

Him: to you maybe

Me: this is my greatest g-chat triumph yet

Him: cool man
Him: live the life








Someone get that bastard a bawling card.

(so he can phone long distance to his mommmmmmmyyyy)

I've always gotten along better with guys than girls

I don't watch a lot of television, but last week I watched the semi-finals of American Gladiators. My mother and I had a little tradition of watching the old reruns on the USA Network during summers when I was young. She'd go to work after and I'd try to go running or get a baseball game together or agonize over having to mow the lawn. But the morning hour from 10-11 was probably the best part of the day.

If you'd told me a year ago that they'd bring it back, I could have told you just how they'd fuck it up. The flashing lights, pounding music, drastic camera angles, mile-a-minute cuts, stupid choreographed screaming crowd. All the futuristic crap that some moron producer thought would appeal to a modern audience. It's the same wrong idea that makes bad filmmakers think that 100 years from now, the most popular sport will be RocketLaunchMoonBallExtreme. Nope. It'll still be football basketball baseball soccer golf tennis. And it's because those sports are timeless, and if they're complex, it's only a complexity that's laid on a simple frame, and so the complexity becomes elegant.

Anyway, the new AG is about 8 levels beneath the original version, but it's still okay to watch because the concept is great.

Here's what they've done right:

1) Keeping Assault. This was by far the greatest game on the original, and it's still the best. There's something primitive and awesome about having to dodge the projectiles of an overlord while you scurry between protective boundaries and try to take him out with a lucky shot. It's the ultimate underdog game. When I was a kid staying at my dad's for the weekend one winter, we set this game up in the front yard. It had just snowed, and it was packy, so we built a series of boundaries in a zig-zag pattern. Each one had a single snowball behind it. Then my dad had his station, in front of a garbage can, with thirty or so snowballs stacked up. I had to run between the snow walls while he tried to pelt me, and if I hit the garbage can I won. Some of the most fun I've had. At the same time, this game is hilarious. You have this huge gladiator, probably on steroids, posing and posturing and talking shit and being all physical, and when the game starts, he's behind a gun. It completely nullifies any strength he has, and you could bring in any random redneck who's hunted his whole life to do a better job. It's the only AG game like that.

2) Having the Gladiator shot backward into the water if he/she loses at Assault. Fucking awesome.

3) The water motif in general. Great call.


Here's what they've done wrong, and how to improve it:

1) Making the Gladiators into posturing villain types. Listening to these idiots make puns on their own names gets old about halfway through the first time. Nobody wants that. It just makes the Gladiators look ridiculous.

How to fix it: Give the Gladiators masks and don't let them talk. Think about it. How badass would it be if you never saw a Gladiator's face, or heard him speak? It would add an amazing element of mystery, and would make them ten times more terrifying. Instead, we have to listen to shit like "JUSTICE IS ABOUT TO BE SERVED," and think "oh, I see, he's just a moron."

Additional idea: Have a Gladiator coach. A small, brooding, mysterious figure in a suit. When a Gladiator wins, he walks through a tunnel back to Gladiator base, and the coach gives a little nod. When a Gladiator loses, he walks back with his head slumped, facing the coach's withering gaze. Basically, I want the Gladiators to be like my idea of sports teams in the old Soviet Union.

Also, before each event, the coach looks at a clipboard in front of the tunnel, then turns and gives a secret signal, indicating which Gladiator he wants. Then, boom, the music starts and Titan runs through the tunnel. This would make it more personal, like the Gladiators were really a team who wanted to defeat the contenders at every event, and not just a bunch of individuals who would talk some shit but not really care if they lost.

2) Speaking of music: the loud blaring rock that plays after every event is completely ineffective. So are the swooping shots of the audience giving the thumbs-down in rhythm to the beat. Watching some grinning disney-land dad cheer with his two spoiled kids is the exact opposite of badass.

How to fix it: Give each Gladiator specialized introduction music. Sure, some could be rock, but there could be variety. As my friend Brandon once told me, for example, the best serial killers always listen to classical music. Imagine if you had a Gladiator strutting out to Bach while some contender stood shaking on the Joust platform. That's scary shit. It gets psychological. Also, the audience should be audible only. Black them out. They should be trying to re-create the howling masses of the original Coliseum, and showing the actual crowd makes it painfully clear that it's onlay a bunch of over-fed Americans.

3) Gladiator names. Boring, predictable.

How to fix it: Instead of the usual fare of Titan, Siren, Venom, Justice, etc., how about something that personalizes them a little more? What about Gladiators from different nationalities? What about identifying characteristics? Couldn't you have a Gladiator called Saint Christopher, who wears a cross around his neck and a long white cloak? Or one from Samoa who does a tribal dance before every event? (editor's note: apparently they have this. oops.) The closest we come now is Wolf, who has his howl, and Helga, who I guess is from Germany.

Another great idea is to have Gladiators specifically suited to each event. Like one called "The Spider" who is ridiculously fast on the wall, or "Tarzan," who dominates the rings. Or, like I said before, a redneck type called "The Sniper" behind the gun in Assault. The downside to this is that it'd be really tough for the contender to ever win.

Additional idea: "The Sniper" could have a hunting dog with him. Actually, every Gladiator could have an animal. I want one called "The Shepherd" who wears tattered clothing and leads around a lamb.

4) Hulk Hogan and Laila Ali. Completely unnecessary. They add nothing.

How to fix it: Have a single, unobtrusive host. Someone out of the Jeff Probst from Survivor mold. The host is not the show, and all their bits are just designed to waste time. I do, however, like the fat referee. It's one of those inexplicable decisions that gives a show character.

5) Interviews with contenders. Over-talky, useless. More times than not, they make me dislike the contender.

How to fix it: Show two heavily produced bios at the beginning that make the contender seem likeable. Show them at home, doing their thing, helping kids, training, whatever. Do NOT interview them during the show. I hate that for the same reasons I hate interviewing football coaches as they jog to the locker room at halftime, or baseball managers in the dug-out in the fourth inning. It's even worse for a contender, because they're actually playing. They should be focused completely on the task at hand, and it spoils the tension of competition to get their thoughts on every single aspect of what they go through in the arena. That shit is sacred.

6) Only five events.

How to fix it: They have eight events to work with. Use all eight. There's definitely enough time, even with commercials. If they cut all the interviews and the posturing and the crowd shots, they could roll through, and it would be better. More people would watch.

7) The Gauntlet. Stupid event. New, I think.

How to fix it: This is where a contender tries to run through a narrow alley and reach the end line while being shoved and pinned by Gladiators with mats. There's zero sophistication to the game. It's a football drill. Get rid of it.

Instead, bring back the game where you jump on a rope and grab balls from the hanging pod at the center! That was great! Also, the roller ball game where you move inside huge spheres and try to settle on a pod while the Gladiator tries to knock you off. Those two games were clearly hatched from the mind of a demented genius! And they replaced them with the fucking Gauntlet? Come on!

Basically, it comes down to substance and personality over empty style. By catering to their notion of what America is like, the idiotic writers and producers created a boring, predictable show full of masculine cliches. What people really want is something mysterious and original. And American Gladiators isn't a show like Arrested Development where that kind of originality would hamper its chances; it has a basis of competition, which everyone can relate to, and was already popular years ago.

Viewers need to feel that real victory is at stake. By distancing the contenders and Gladiators, and creating an atmosphere of mystical, almost cabalistic gloom, the perceived triumph is greater. That's how you make American Gladiators great.

What it means to be American

Something has been happening in my office that serves as a nice metaphor for what it's like to be young and white and not poor in America today.

About five months ago, one of our managers- an exceedingly nice, quiet woman- began bringing candy to work. She kept it in a box in the outer corner of her cubicle, and it was filled with all kinds of bite-sized chocolate; Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Butterfingers, Snickers, Hershey's, etc. The first few times I went by, I'd apologetically ask if I could partake. She made it clear with a smile and a permissive wave that it was fine, and I shouldn't even ask. Still, whenever I took a candy bar, I'd say hello and thank her.

Eventually, I began to look forward to Wednesdays, when she worked from home and I could raid her office without being spotted. Some days, by 5pm, I had helped myself to as many as ten bite-sized candy items.

I began to feel that these chocolates were a part of my life. I wasn't paying for them, nor did I do anything to earn them, and yet I still felt that I was deserving. On the days when she was in the office, however, I couldn't make more than one or two runs without seeming like a hun.

Whenever I walked by her cubicle, I would hope she was in the bathroom or otherwise occupied so I could have my fill. But she rarely left her desk.

I began to resent her. I'd peer into her area, see her hunched over and hard at work, and think 'why the fuck don't you ever take a walk?' Each time I passed and she hadn't budged, my annoyance mounted, until finally I noticed in myself a clear distaste. She was a dragon guarding a pot of gold.

What had begun as a nice gesture on her part, and a pleasant surprise for me, her co-worker, had transformed. I felt entitled to the candy that she bought and transported and supplied and gave away free, and when I couldn't indulge myself to gluttonous extents, due to fear of perception, my offended mind would not let her good deed go unpunished. For her kindness, she earned my ire.


I am a marauding, selfish, overfed American of Generation Y. Somewhere somebody is being pelted with rocks while they stumble on treacherous terrain, struggling to survive from second to second. Someday that person will tear me to pieces. I hope I remember to thank them.


























This story is like 30% true.

Ten Ordinary Things I'd Rather Do Than Haggle With Sleepy's Over A Bed

In no order:


1) Go out on a lunch date with a girl who's a dental assistant from a small Wisconsin town and reminds me of a news anchor from back home. We're both unsure of each other at first, but leave the date feeling optimistic.

2) Get a call from an old kinda-friend who's in New York for the week and wants me to come with him to a strip club tonight. I try to bring up other cultural things we can do, but he's psyched up about the strip club.

3) Have a go at baking a three-layer cake, fully aware that I've never successfully baked a normal cake, but feeling ambitious.

4) Spot a spelling error on a chalk board outside a pub advertising soccer matches, and go inside to inform them of the mistake.

5) Get accidentally hit in the side of the head by the protruding metal of an umbrella. Cringe, lean down, hold my head, and hiss "fuck!" Have the owner profusely apologize and try to help while I wave him off. When he persists in apologizing, look up and say, "man, just walk the fuck away."

6) Listen to a British Sea Power song on my iPod while walking at lunch and imagine how awesome I would have been on an English schooner.

7) Have somebody misinterpret my humor as anger.

8) Have somebody misinterpret my anger as humor.

9) Google myself to see which blogs have linked any internet articles I've written, then e-mail the blog creator to ask if he or she wants to get a drink sometime.

10) Respond to spam e-mails with clever take-offs on the original content. Respond to my mother's e-mails, whatever their content, with the single line, "Kathy, you're being ridiculous."

It Is A Common Law Idea To Love

Action!

Film.

Pond.

Algae.

Plankton.

Low Man.




I can think of a clever low man whose title does not reflect status.




























Can you guess who he is?



































Willy Loman.

































Were you thinking of Lo Mein?














































It is the hour of my feast and I am St. Riddicker.































-St. Riddicker C. Ambodextrial (h e w ill r aise t hem t o t heir f ormer s hape)












StIlL BeLlS pEaL, charmed 11th

Broken Bottles Make A Rainbow

Hair Care.

Care bear.

Fair share.

Fairgrounds.

Carousel.

Stationary Horse.





I can think of a clever stationary horse that you cannot ride in a circle.

















Can you guess what it is?























A pommel horse in a gymnasium.






























Were you thinking of a tranquilized filly?

























I wish you one hundred happinesses!

























-St. Riddicker C. Ambodextrial (t he b odies o f g hosts a re b uried i n f og)

I Don't Have To Prove Myself To Any Human Man

Antipodes.

Podcast.

The Bowery Boys.

Five Corners.

Pentagon.


I can think of something clever that has five sides, but is not a Pentagon.















Can you guess what it is?




















A steak dinner with mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, cole slaw, green beans, and carrots.



















Were you thinking of a complicated war?


















I'm interested in if you make it!



















-St. Riddicker C. Ambodextrial (h ark t he t olling b ell u pon h is p romised a rrival)

Bullion Ain't Got Shit To Do With a Bull

Tarnation!

Tar Nation.

Tar Heel Nation.

North Carolina.

Gigantic Chairs.





I can think of a clever Gigantic Chair that you do not sit on.











Can you guess what it is?
















The Chair of the National Obese Person's Foundation.


















Were you thinking of Chairman Mao?



















I think you can do it!



















-St. Riddicker C. Ambodextrial (f ollow h is w ord t o t he e nd o f t he w et g rass)

Wanton And Wonton Do Not Derive From The Same Word

Oh what a day.

What a day-oh.

O-dell.

Deli.

Sandwich.

I can think of a clever thing that sandwich reminds me of that isn't a food item.










Can you guess what it is?















Sandwich-board advertising.













Were you thinking the Earl of Sandwich?













I love you.













-St. Riddicker C. Ambodextrial (w hisper h is n ame o n a c old m orning)

Who We Are

A pretty apt summation from John Heilemann in New York Magazine:

"If you find yourself drawn to the Clinton candidacy, you likely believe that politics is politics, that partisanship isn't transmutable, that Republicans are for the most part irredeemable. You suspect that talk of transcendence amounts to humming "Kumbabya" past the graveyard. You believe that progress comes only with a fight, and that Clinton is better equipped than Obama (or maybe anyone) to succeed in the poisonous, fractious environment that Washington is now and ever shall be. You ponder the image of Bill as First Laddie and find yourself smiling, not sighing or shrieking.

If you find youself swept up in Obamamania, on the other hand, you regard this assessment as sad, defeatist, as a kind of capitulation. You're perfectly aware that politics is often a dirty business. But you believe it could be a bit cleaner, a bit nobler, a bit more sustaining. You think that paradigm shifts can happen, that the system can be rebooted. Most of all, an attraction to Obama indicates you are, on some level, a romantic. You never had your JFK, your MLK, and you desperately crave one: What you want is to fall in love."



What I especially like about these descriptions is that Clinton supporters can recognize some of the Obama attributes in themselves, no doubt, and vice versa. It portrays the ideology of both camps in a (somewhat) positive light, and makes the argument that both have the best interest of the country at heart. And underlying it all is a desperate plea to to the faithful of the losing candidate, whoever that may be: don't forget that you're a liberal, a democrat, and that our country needs one of these two people as president. We need it badly. So when the loss comes, mourn the memory for a day if you need to, then shed it like an old coat and support your party.

Why I'm voting for Hillary

If you're not into politics, this will be a very boring post. Consider yourself warned.

With Super Tuesday over and nothing decided on the democrat side, I felt the need to write something about my choice, if only to get my thoughts on paper. I don't expect to sway anyone or anything like that, but the more I've seen, the more strongly I feel that Hillary Clinton is the right choice for the democratic nomination.

On the most basic issue, policy, almost everyone concedes that their views are "almost indistinguishable." (New Yorker) That being said, Hillary is, in general, very slightly further to the left than Obama, with the biggest difference being her support for Universal Health Care. But both support immigration reform and both vow to pull troops out of Iraq in a short time, so it's not like we're talking about a huge gap. What the decision comes down to, then, is the old "experience versus change" argument. But what real "change" would Obama bring that Hillary wouldn't?

Which brings me to my next point. I would be happy and proud to have Obama as president, but his rhetoric of change and the support he's gaining is starting to resemble a personality cult. I'm not saying he actively avoids discussing issues; I think he started the campaign with that strategy, but jettisoned it quickly when Hillary jumped to her early lead. What I am saying is that when he gets into what I'll call "preacher" mode, policy issues disappear and it becomes all oratorial flash.

Everyone who sees Obama speak in public says how magnetic he is, and it's certainly apparent on television as well. There's a genuine inspirational quality about him. But let's not forget, Ronald Reagan had that too. Charisma doesn't always translate into great leadership, or great ideas. He's managed to galvanize the youth population, but I think there's something a little worrisome about that.

And before I continue, let me add this caveat: a few weeks ago, I was on the Obama train. My thought was that the raw force the man exuded was exactly what the country needed. But after reading and studying more, it's apparent to me that there's an act of seduction going on that can be construed as slightly disingeuous, on his behalf, and slightly credulous on the part of youth. The more I speak with Obama supporters, and let me again clarify that I was just as guilty recently, the more I realize that they don't have a command of the issues, but that they've simply fallen under the sway of his charm. And there's something to be said for a personality of that nature, especially in a position of leadership like the presidency, but for so many people to choose based on that alone is scary.

Enough, for now, about Obama. Let's get into the positives about Hillary.

*Toughness - Hillary has been vilified from day one, and for no better reason, at least originally, than being a First Lady with the audacity to pursue policy. She's always been a strong personality, and people bridled at that. When she introduced Universal Health Care reform in '94, it was defeated by the Republicans in what amounted to petty, partisan politics. Something that could have greatly helped the uninsured in the country failed merely because of conservatives hating Hillary. When the Lewinsky scandal reached its apex, Hillary was, astoundingly, vilified again. Some wanted her to leave her husband, and railed against her for "setting the cause of feminism back fifty years," and many accused her of staying with Bill for personal gain only. Never has a woman trying to hold a family together under impossible circumstances been so excoriated. Then, when she ran for Senator in New York, she was vilified again for having the gall to run for office and possibly harbor presidential ambitions. Rick Lazio, her opponent, even approached her aggressively during one of the debates. And now, finally, she's running for president and is vilified by both parties.

And throughout it all, what's happened? She's stayed strong, and she keeps winning. Show me anyone else who could have gone through that kind of hell, with unfiltered hating pouring in from all sides, and still maintained their character, grown as a politican, and grown as a person.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, is tougher than Hillary.


*Experience- some are trying to frame this as the "experience versus change" decision. But again, what change, really, will Obama bring? Their policies are virtually the same, and what the "change" comes down to is the perceived notion that Obama's personality will somehow bridge gaps between Republicans and Democrats and set our country on a new, united path.

Dream on. I'm all for idealism, but if people truly think a black liberal from Chicago is going to win the hearts and minds of neocons and red staters, and if they think the Republican political machine, built for twenty years on the premise of dirty politics, wil lie down and die when faced with such a uniter, they need to wake up. There's a rift in America, and if the rift can ever be healed, it will be done with policy, not rhetoric. And when it comes to policy, Hillary's bringing the same exact change.

So if we put that idea aside, we're left with experience. When discussing their policies, although the general framework is the same, Hillary approaches with more pragmatism. She goes into details, some of which are boring because they're intricate and well thought-out. Obama speaks in generalities, focusing instead on the idea of a catalyzing change that will erase the gaps among Americans. Forced to choose between those two alternatives, I fall on the side of pragmatism. Hillary is a policy wonk, and I truly believe her when she says she'll be ready, on day one, to take over. She's thought everything through, certainly more than Obama (as I'll show later), and has real plans on every single aspect of governance.

To me, that's everything.


*Hard work - just as nobody's tougher than Hillary, nobody works harder. Even her detractors concede the point that, throughout her career as First Lady, advocate, Senator, and presidential hopeful, she's a dedicated, and at times obsessive, leader. A quick example is her newly-learned expertise on defense policy since taking her place on the Senate Armed Services Committee. There are a thousand more. Meanwhile, since becoming chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee's subcommittee on foreign affairs, Obama hasn't held a single substantive hearing. A lot of that owes to time spent on the campaign trail, but it's certainly worth noting. In the end, we really don't know how hard he'll work, or how prepared he'll be for either the Republican attack machine or the presidency itself. Is that a chance we can afford to take? What do we really know about this guy?

And though Hillary takes a ton of flack for her so-called "ambition," (which, let's be honest, exists; nobody runs for president without ambition), it's Obama who strikes me as the more nakedly opportunistic. He's basically rode a tide of rhetorical flair to the nomination process at an incredibly young age, and without his qualities as a speaker, he'd be nowhere near his current position. He's certainly more calculating than Hillary. Which leads me to....


*Caring - this is an out-and-out personal call, but from watching Hillary speak, and hearing anecdotes about her more private moments, I'm convinced that she legitimately cares about people. She's spent a career advocating for the lower middle class and those below the poverty line. Her focus on education, health care, and immigration reform confirms the idea. If she plays dirty politics, or is accused by pundits of being cutthroat, I genuinely believe it's because she thinks she can help the most people, and desperately wants her vision instituted for America's benefit.

I don't mean to imply that Obama doesn't care. I'm just not convinced his desire for the presidency is 100% about caring. I think there's more personal ambition involved than in Hillary's case.


*Electability - This is the biggest knock on Hillary. The talking point among her opponents is that she won't be able to reach out to undecided voters, or to hold the middle ground, while Obama's charisma has a greater chance to make up the gap. I find that attitude to be completely flawed. Kerry was nominated on this premise in '04, and he got destroyed by the Republican attack machine. Keep in mind, the guy was a Vietnam hero and was running against the worst president in recent memory. And he still lost! It proves that the Republicans can and will go after anyone, no matter how unimpeachable their character seems. They'll go after Obama with the same fervor. Hillary, on the other hand, is tough as nails. People call her unlikeable, but watching her speak and watching her newly adopted tone of positivity and focus on policy, I can't see it. I think her character shines through, and I think her strength will become evident to more and more people. And she's already proven she can withstand the conversative attack. I envision a general election where she gains more and more support as people start to realize her true character, especially against a rigid guy like McCain. On the other hand, I can easily see Obama's rhetoric being exposed as a vapid defense mechanism for lack of experience.

And as a final, practical point, let's not forget that Hispanic voters have shown zero willingness, historically, to vote for a black candidate. That held true last night, which seems to indicate that it won't change in the near future. That could be a gigantic problem in swing states with large Hispanic populations, particularly Florida.


What it comes down to, in the end, is that I find Hillary to be a more pragmatic, prepared candidate. I think she's better equipped to lead the country, has more thoroughly researched solutions for the myriad problems caused by the Bush administration, and is overall more legitimate. The results of Super Tuesday seem to hold that up; she scored a huge victory among those in need, such as the working class, the elderly, and Hispanic minorities. Obama's main voters can all be attributed to his personality and "realm of influence," which includes black voters, youth, and undecided voters hoping to feel excited. It seems to lend credence to a very controversial, but perhaps valid, quote from a Clinton staffer:

"If you have a social need, you're with Hillary. If you want Obama to be your imaginary hip black friend, and you're young, and you have no social needs, then he's cool."


Personally, I'm going with substance over style.