So, it turns out I was really wrong about that guy. It is still a bit heartbreaking that someone could look at a person like that and yet it meant nothing. Lesson learned, I suppose. Instead of dwelling on the impossibility of men, let’s talk about politics, shall we?
Perhaps I was just naive or we as a country were, but when I was younger it did not seem like political parties would so brazenly lie to the public. It felt like they would think twice about flooding the media with misinformation in an attempt to obfuscate their own misdeeds. It seemed like the media was truly concerned about ferreting out truths and not just mastering the razzle dazzle of soft journalism. I wonder if Watergate would even have been found out today, or if Nixon would have been able to effectively spin his way out of it.
However, I know politicians have always lied, so perhaps I am nostalgic for politicos who respected our democracy enough to bother to do it well. Or perhaps I miss politicians who, at the very least, possessed a strong enough grasp of the elements at play to effectively manipulate perception. How cynical is that?
For eight long years, we have had someone in office who has arrogantly flouted his responsibilities to all the American people, and not just his corporate cronies or the people who voted for him. We have had someone who is too obtuse and too proudly incurious to comprehend fully the issues with which he must grapple or the human lives in his charge. Is there anything more galling than being condescended to by an idiot? This is a man who celebrates his bizarrely simplistic thinking. This is a man who has spent most of his two terms on vacation.
Regardless of the outcome of this election, I just want to thank Barack for signaling the possibility of a new kind of politics.
I don’t listen to the radio or watch MTV or really follow what is popular in mainstream music…certainly not in adult contemporary.
So, I am waiting in line at the bank only half listening to the music they were playing.
First, it was
Then:
All fairly par for the bank music playing course. But then, surprisingly (for me):
[Of course, they played a shortened version because you know, Stairway to Heaven it's not...never mind that the full-length song has a nice build to it.]
There had been hints here and there that this song had gained some popularity, but I’d not paid much attention: a person whom I would not expect to know who Death Cab for Cutie was, did, and also I thought I saw “I Will Possess Your Heart” on that stupid video screen in the elevator but it flashed so quickly, I knew not what I had seen.
“On really hot or humid days you should have a bottle of water with you in case your dog gets thirsty.”
People, as much as I adore petting your dog in bars, please, please do not bring him or her where loud music and/or humans are present. Try to view a loud, hipster bar from their perspective: dogs have exceptionally good hearing (and olfactory prowess) and the noise probably feels pretty bombastic to them. They cannot cover their floppy ears with their adorable paws. Even if your dog doesn’t have Noise Phobia, if you have to raise your voice to be heard over the music or noise then your dog would probably be happier elsewhere.
I’m not saying you should arrange your life around your dog or neglect your dog by leaving it alone all day and night whilst you frolic. All I am suggesting is going to a quieter bar or going out earlier before it gets loud or maybe just being a little sensitive to your dog’s needs instead of being a selfish, unthinking dick head.
The worst example of this I ever saw was a woman walked her dog into Barcade and two steps in the dog turned around and tried to run out the door. Like, an honest-to-god attempt to make a break for it. And she dragged it inside anyway. Also awful to witness was this woman who brought the cutest, tiniest, snuggliest puppy into Barcade like it was a friggin’ doll. It was pretty loud inside. Both R. and I were aghast.
Unrelated to noise, on really hot or humid days you should have a bottle of water with you in case your dog gets thirsty. One time I saw this woman jog across the Williamsburg bridge with her dog and then turn right around and jog back. It was a hot, humid day and that dog looked pooped and dehydrated. That’s nearly 3 miles under a hot sun, lady! If you want to know how your dog feels, next time wear a sweater while you’re jogging! Barefoot on hot concrete!
I also don’t think people should smoke around pets (or children, obviously), even outdoors. And people shouldn’t swear in front of children, even if they’re going to learn it elsewhere, you should show them it is possible to convey ideas sans obscenities. That last bit doesn’t have to do with dogs, but right now for me they are still kind of the same thing.
“Now they suck and don’t play enough older songs….”
Modest Mouse is playing a secret show tonight at 1 AM at Music Hall of Williamsburg, a.k.a. North Six. Doors are at 1 AM and show starts at 1:30 AM.
$20 no-fee tickets are available at Ticketmaster.com
Prior to “We Were Dead….”, I 100% would have gone. But now they suck and don’t play enough older songs to warrant attendance.
However, if they hopped on the “play an album in its entirety” bandwagon and opted to play (my all-time favorite) This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About, or Lonesome Crowded West, or Building Nothing Out of Something, or even The Moon and Antarctica, I would be in line right now instead of typing this.
“The passing of Tim Russert throws into high relief this country’s lack of steadfastly reasonable and fair reporting.”
I got home from a show at Glasslands late last night and ended up watching an in memoriam show for Tim Russert featuring Tom Brokaw, James Carville, Mary Matalin, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Gwen Ifill, Mike Barnicle, Betsy Fischer (Executive Producer of “Meet the Press”) and Maria Shriver (who, I’m sorry, is one of the scariest-looking people alive today).
Obviously, I never knew Tim Russert personally, but my sense of him from his show and from what others have said about him is that he was truly an exceptional person, immensely respected and hugely influential. Russert was principled, curious, intelligent and unafraid to ask real and difficult questions and to expect real and complex answers.
Few journalists demand accountability from politicians or press them for answers instead of evasions, but Russert’s genuine interest and faith in politics and in people garnered him not only respect from people all over the political spectrum, but also goodwill and trust. According to his friends and colleagues, he was fiercely loyal and rejoiced in other people’s successes.
“Meet the Press” drove the news cycle and set the bar on reporting. If a fraction of news sources in the U.S. cleaved to that level of integrity, research and honesty, I wouldn’t have to watch the BBC World News to find out what’s happening in my own country.
James Carville did not actually cry (on camera) but he got very choked up. So did Brokaw (I’m pretty sure he cried when the camera cut away). So did Mike Barnicle. Mary Matalin was definitely teary-eyed, and at one point you could see a crumpled tissue in her hand, but what got me the most was how James Carville, one of the craziest, hardest, wiliest consultant-pundits ever, held onto her hand so tightly looking simply devastated. The outpouring of emotion Tim Russert evoked, who he was, what he did and what he stood for, was really moving.
I always scoffed when people mourned the death of Princess Diana with near-religious fervor. I suppose they identified with her or felt sorry for her. I do know she did a lot of good work towards eradicating land mines and with AIDS patients, but honestly people, she was not exceptional, because other people have done the same or more. She was famous for her pedigree and marriage, and the attention she received for her admirable charitable work has been inaccurately remembered as the impetus for the adoration lavished upon her.
Tim Russert was truly a force for good in this country, an example of civility and meaningful dialogue in a country overrun with pre-packaged sound bytes, empty rhetoric, macho posturing, pissing contests and shouting matches. I know this entry may seem overly effusive or exaggerated, but if nothing else, the passing of Tim Russert throws into high relief this country’s lack of steadfastly reasonable and fair reporting.
Tom Brokaw called Tim Russert “authentic” and in this day and age, that’s one of the highest compliments a person can receive.
There’s so much amazing music happening this summer. Thank Jeebus! Here’s a list of free shows happening in New York City. Not listed are kick-ass shows of the unfree variety, to wit, Spoon and Built to Spill.
Of the free shows, I want to see: Sonic Youth w/ The Feelies, The Breeders, Fiery Furnaces, Liars w/ Fuck Buttons, Feist, Blonde Redhead, Battles w/ Black Dice and Gang Gang Dance, Santogold and Aesop Rock.
Tim Russert, most beloved host of “Meet the Press”, died this morning of a heart attack at age 58. He will be sorely missed as his was one of the few voices of reason in the media.
It was early evening and I was on my way home from Sumac after buying some cookies for my boss’ birthday tomorrow and decided it would be nice to have a beer at Barcade…maybe play a little Rampage…peruse the guys, etc. And there were some hot guys, and they were perusing me back!
However, you refused to acknowledge my existence, let alone my thirsty need, in the nine minutes I waited for service or a sign that service might be forthcoming in the future, on both sides of the bar in case you were stuck down at that one end. I understand you are helping other people, but the trick is to make eye contact or nod or otherwise acknowledge the presence of other bar patrons after they’ve been standing there for nearly ten minutes. Or, if the people you’re helping are taking a while, ask if they need a little more time or if it is okay if you help someone else while they’re deciding.
But no, Lady Bitchington, you were unwilling to even look at me. There were maybe 5 people sitting at the bar and 3 playing pool. So it isn’t as though you were overrun with customers and most of them already had their drinks.
I was so looking forward to that Avery Salvation…the description said it tasted like citrus, candy and “grassy hops”. That’s the taste I wanted! In my mouth!
But you did not want me in your bar. You did not want me to have a grassy hops flavor in my mouth. So I left. I did give you a dirty look on my way out…which you did not see. My only hope is that karmic justice will avenge me.
“If the majority of people are social technocrats, I’m socially Amish.”
For a long time growing up I felt supremely transparent, that everything I thought or felt was pretty obvious to everyone around me. I still feel that way to a degree, though some people mistake my shyness for aloofness. On the other hand, a good number of people are irritating and I genuinely don’t like them. So…I’m not sure what my point is there.
On top of that is my tendency to conserve energy, not engaging in debates with blowhards, not talking at length on the phone, and at my very worst, not bothering to project or enunciate when I’m talking to someone. This is my favorite mode of communication, the one where I feel most
comfortable and most confident, these pixels appearing on monitors near you, or making ink shapes on paper. If I could communicate with more people, especially men, in writing, I would have dates all over the place.
At work I’ve been making a special effort to say “hi” to people, just to show that I like them. I think I felt like if I like a person, he or she would just know it and I wouldn’t need to say anything by way of confirmation. But then I realized recently that I just walk right by people I like and don’t even acknowledge them. I tend to get so goal-oriented with my communication that I overlook really basic, obvious social cues and gestures. This also ties in with my tendency to feel overwhelmed by too much stimuli.
Saying hello is a another one of those things that other people just do off-hand and it requires little to no thought for them. Not so with me. If the majority of people are social technocrats, I’m socially Amish.
The good news is, I’m aware of it and I’m learning and I’m doing better. I think I may have squandered some social capital and goodwill that I had previously earned because I was socially unaware, so I am determined not to let that happen again. And we all know how far my determination gets me.
I’m sorry. I know I’ve said this before but I feel compelled to say it again thanks to the movie’s media blitz. There are people I know and love who like this show, and I tried to like it but can’t. I’ve probably watched 10-12 episodes and while the show has its moments, and Samantha’s pretty cool, on the whole this is a quartet of astoundingly irritating people who somewhat embody what I hate most about New York.
And if I ever met “Carrie Bradshaw” in real life, I swear to God I would punch her in the face.
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