Village Voice
New York city to criminalize possession of pollution detectors, Geiger counters, etc...
So, let's take this to the next level. Everyone needs to carry a permit in order to call 911. If you don't have a permit and you call 911, you'll be charged with inciting panic and severely prosecuted.
I for one, don't think that this: Cell phone detectors is such a bad idea.
What else should we outlaw so that people have the illusion of security?
Monday, January 28, 2008
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Going Down on Madonna
Happy New Year, everyone. Let me tell you about my annual Minnesota vacation.
Christmas at my Uncle's house was business as usual. Because this is the one time every year that the whole clan meets in one place, the conversations remain almost exclusively superficial. "How are you doing?" "So, where are you now?" "What are you doing?" "Do you have a girlfriend?" which would be fine, if it weren't for the fact that each of the 2 dozen people ask you the exact same questions. At one point, I was standing in the kitchen talking with my aunt and just as I was answering the last question on the list, my uncle walks up behind me and asks, "How are you doing, where are you now?" at which point I pivot and begin reciting my answers from the top.
After eating from a great panoply of cheesy, greasy, or salty foods in which the only vegetarian option was raw vegetables and ranch dip (poor brother), I sat down with my grandfather for his and my Christmas State-Of-The-whatever-the-hell-grandpa-wants-to-talk-about address. When talking with my grandfather you are struck with the realization that no less than 97% of the things he says are completely derived from stock phrases, cliches, and aphorisms, peppered with the occasional malapropism.
After grandpa's startling explication of the relative proximity of similarly plumaged fowl, he went on to lend his support to the widely held scholarly opinion that the construction of ancient cities took more than 24 hours.
After giving me a nod and a wink as if to say, no need to thank me for the invaluable advice, he begins to tell a story.
Grandpa's stories wander through the realms of moral parable, historical fiction, non-fiction, and a genre i like to call incoherent sentence fragments. I know I'm walking the fine line between humorous observation and invective, but you have to realize that my grandpa is not senile, nor is he unintelligent. In fact, I have the sinking suspicion that he's playing some intricate game with the family, mentally laughing at us all while we try to follow what seems to be a mix of an aesop fable, a john wayne movie, and a collection of one-line jokes.
After his rousing tale, I excuse myself, and retreat to the circle of cousins, most of whom are my age. My cousins are, almost without exception, extremely interesting people. They are kind and funny, clever and well educated. I like this part of Christmas.
As for Madonna, well, on the 23rd of december, my beloved friends, Mr. and Mrs. Gubbins, and I were playing a game of Yahtzee. For those of you unfamiliar with this game, the rules are quite simple. You roll 5 dice and try to get certain outcomes, such as all sixes, 3 of one type and 2 of another, runs of 3 or 5 etc. At its most basic level, this is a game of chance. I am not an avid Yahtzee player, in fact I may have played once before in all of my days. However, on this fateful day, the gods were with me and I happened to play what could possible be the greatest game of yahtzee ever played in the history of the known universe. My final score was 670 points (or somewhere thereabouts), and from what I can gather, that's about what God's score would be were he to actually play dice in the universe. After I stopped dancing my wild "I'm-better-than-you" dance, and warmed up my vocal chords for a rousing "nee-ner nee-ner boo boo", Mr. Gubbins said, "That will probably be the best game of Yahtzee you will ever play." I exhaled the breathe that was supposed to carry the "nee-ner's" and began to ponder. Mr. Gubbins statement was most surely true. The planets would never align in such a way again to grant a mortal the awesome power bestowed unto me. I began to worry, did I peak too soon? Does this mark the slow downward spiral into obscurity? Will this laurel support my figurative weight until I'm 80, or will people say "Yeah, Sprocketplug played a good game of Yahtzee when he was 26, but he hasn't done squat since." Am I condemned to be just another Albert Einstein?
Dan Berg, in his song Tiger Woods, wrote
"I had a friend whose goal in life was to one day go down on Madonna, that was all he wanted, that was all, to one day do down on Madonna. And when my first was 34, he got his wish in Rome one night. He got to go down on Madonna in Rome one night in some hotel. And ever since he's been depressed. his life in shit from here on in. And all our friends just shake their heads and say too soon too soon too soon, he went down on Madonna too soon, too young too young too soon too soon...."
To what shall I devote the rest of my life?
-SP
Christmas at my Uncle's house was business as usual. Because this is the one time every year that the whole clan meets in one place, the conversations remain almost exclusively superficial. "How are you doing?" "So, where are you now?" "What are you doing?" "Do you have a girlfriend?" which would be fine, if it weren't for the fact that each of the 2 dozen people ask you the exact same questions. At one point, I was standing in the kitchen talking with my aunt and just as I was answering the last question on the list, my uncle walks up behind me and asks, "How are you doing, where are you now?" at which point I pivot and begin reciting my answers from the top.
After eating from a great panoply of cheesy, greasy, or salty foods in which the only vegetarian option was raw vegetables and ranch dip (poor brother), I sat down with my grandfather for his and my Christmas State-Of-The-whatever-the-hell-grandpa-wants-to-talk-about address. When talking with my grandfather you are struck with the realization that no less than 97% of the things he says are completely derived from stock phrases, cliches, and aphorisms, peppered with the occasional malapropism.
After grandpa's startling explication of the relative proximity of similarly plumaged fowl, he went on to lend his support to the widely held scholarly opinion that the construction of ancient cities took more than 24 hours.
After giving me a nod and a wink as if to say, no need to thank me for the invaluable advice, he begins to tell a story.
Grandpa's stories wander through the realms of moral parable, historical fiction, non-fiction, and a genre i like to call incoherent sentence fragments. I know I'm walking the fine line between humorous observation and invective, but you have to realize that my grandpa is not senile, nor is he unintelligent. In fact, I have the sinking suspicion that he's playing some intricate game with the family, mentally laughing at us all while we try to follow what seems to be a mix of an aesop fable, a john wayne movie, and a collection of one-line jokes.
After his rousing tale, I excuse myself, and retreat to the circle of cousins, most of whom are my age. My cousins are, almost without exception, extremely interesting people. They are kind and funny, clever and well educated. I like this part of Christmas.
As for Madonna, well, on the 23rd of december, my beloved friends, Mr. and Mrs. Gubbins, and I were playing a game of Yahtzee. For those of you unfamiliar with this game, the rules are quite simple. You roll 5 dice and try to get certain outcomes, such as all sixes, 3 of one type and 2 of another, runs of 3 or 5 etc. At its most basic level, this is a game of chance. I am not an avid Yahtzee player, in fact I may have played once before in all of my days. However, on this fateful day, the gods were with me and I happened to play what could possible be the greatest game of yahtzee ever played in the history of the known universe. My final score was 670 points (or somewhere thereabouts), and from what I can gather, that's about what God's score would be were he to actually play dice in the universe. After I stopped dancing my wild "I'm-better-than-you" dance, and warmed up my vocal chords for a rousing "nee-ner nee-ner boo boo", Mr. Gubbins said, "That will probably be the best game of Yahtzee you will ever play." I exhaled the breathe that was supposed to carry the "nee-ner's" and began to ponder. Mr. Gubbins statement was most surely true. The planets would never align in such a way again to grant a mortal the awesome power bestowed unto me. I began to worry, did I peak too soon? Does this mark the slow downward spiral into obscurity? Will this laurel support my figurative weight until I'm 80, or will people say "Yeah, Sprocketplug played a good game of Yahtzee when he was 26, but he hasn't done squat since." Am I condemned to be just another Albert Einstein?
Dan Berg, in his song Tiger Woods, wrote
"I had a friend whose goal in life was to one day go down on Madonna, that was all he wanted, that was all, to one day do down on Madonna. And when my first was 34, he got his wish in Rome one night. He got to go down on Madonna in Rome one night in some hotel. And ever since he's been depressed. his life in shit from here on in. And all our friends just shake their heads and say too soon too soon too soon, he went down on Madonna too soon, too young too young too soon too soon...."
To what shall I devote the rest of my life?
-SP
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