Thursday, December 07, 2006
I'll Take One Shower Soothe, Please
While listening to Nina Simone on my iPod and reading blogs, I saw this commercial on my television with the sound down. The advertisers succeeded on two important counts: 1) They had my undivided attention, and 2) I want to buy their product.
New Of Montreal Streams Here
In stores January 23, 2007, Of Montreal's newest release, Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer? is streaming free now at PolyVinylRecords.com.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Famous Last Words
While reading Living with Legends: Hotel Chelsea Blog, I came across a mention of Eugene O'Neill's last words as he lay dying in the Shelton Hotel. The crabby part of me really wants to go out bitching in a similar fashion. I don't know whether or not his intention was humor, but his parting words made me laugh. (It helps to imagine them voiced by George Costanza.)
Eugene O'Neill, who wrote The Iceman Cometh and A Long Day's Journey into Night, was 65 when he died, broke and unhappy, in Suite 401 of the Shelton Hotel in Boston on November 27, 1953. His last words were: ''I knew it. I knew it. Born in a hotel room -- and goddamn it -- died in a hotel room.'' He had been born in a Broadway hotel room in New York, the son of an Irish-American actor.
Calvin Trillin on Walt Disney World, 1972
In my latest issue of The New Yorker (12-04-06), there is a wonderful reposting of Calvin Trillin's account of his first visit to Walt Disney World in 1972. It had only been open for two weeks but he describes a Disney World very much like the one that remains so successful to this day - lots and lots and lots of smiles, to the point of nausea.
Anyway, the link is here, but in typical New Yorker fashion, it'll probably be a dead link in a week's time. What really made me smile was one passage where he describes his wife's reaction to this theme park dedicated to all things happy. (Hint: It's the reference to hotel workers that resonated with me.)
Anyway, the link is here, but in typical New Yorker fashion, it'll probably be a dead link in a week's time. What really made me smile was one passage where he describes his wife's reaction to this theme park dedicated to all things happy. (Hint: It's the reference to hotel workers that resonated with me.)
She did not seem to react well to the ferocious friendliness of the young Disney World employees, particularly when it came in conjunction with the service problems that any tourist operation is bound to have in its first few weeks—problems complicated by the fact that the young people manning, say, the Polynesian Village seemed to owe their cheerfulness partly to not having had enough experience in hotel work to have been turned sullen.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Rejected, and For Sale!
The good folks over at The New Yorker will sell anything. There are books of the magazine's famous covers, there are collections of essays, and there are books featuring cartoons of various topics.
This morning, I received an email from The New Yorker advertising The Rejection Collection, a collection of cartoons that never made it to the magazine's pages. Good enough for a current issue? Nope. Good enough to sell as a collection for $22.95 to completest fans and readers of the magazine? Yep.
They know me so well.
The email:
Purchase A Signed Copy of
The Rejection Collection
The Rejection Collection (Signed)
Featuring cartoons you never saw, and never will see, in The New Yorker, edited by Matthew Diffee.
Each week about 50 New Yorker cartoonists submit 10 ideas, yielding 500 cartoons for no more than 20 spots in the magazine.
Editor Matthew Diffee called on his fellow cartoonists for their favorite “rejects” as well as for insights into their creative minds, resulting in this outrageously hilarious hardcover book.
Too risqué, silly, or weird for The New Yorker, these cartoons are sure to have you blushing, gasping, and laughing out loud.
A foreword by New Yorker cartoon editor,
Robert Mankoff, explains the sound judgment that keeps these sort of cartoons far away from the pages of The New Yorker. Handwritten questionnaires introduce the quirky character of each artist.
Each copy is signed by Matthew Diffee-
Only at TheNewYorkerStore.com.
This morning, I received an email from The New Yorker advertising The Rejection Collection, a collection of cartoons that never made it to the magazine's pages. Good enough for a current issue? Nope. Good enough to sell as a collection for $22.95 to completest fans and readers of the magazine? Yep.
They know me so well.
The email:
Purchase A Signed Copy of
The Rejection Collection
The Rejection Collection (Signed)
Featuring cartoons you never saw, and never will see, in The New Yorker, edited by Matthew Diffee.
Each week about 50 New Yorker cartoonists submit 10 ideas, yielding 500 cartoons for no more than 20 spots in the magazine.
Editor Matthew Diffee called on his fellow cartoonists for their favorite “rejects” as well as for insights into their creative minds, resulting in this outrageously hilarious hardcover book.
Too risqué, silly, or weird for The New Yorker, these cartoons are sure to have you blushing, gasping, and laughing out loud.
A foreword by New Yorker cartoon editor,
Robert Mankoff, explains the sound judgment that keeps these sort of cartoons far away from the pages of The New Yorker. Handwritten questionnaires introduce the quirky character of each artist.
Each copy is signed by Matthew Diffee-
Only at TheNewYorkerStore.com.
All That's Past Is Prologue To Jay Cutler, NFL Starter
Tonight marks the beginning of a new era in Denver. Vanderbilt's Jay Cutler gets the nod for the starting QB position for the Broncos as they play host to Seattle for Sunday Night Football on NBC. I bet that Seahawks DB Jimmy Williams is just as surprised as anyone that he is facing a fellow Vandy alum at quarterback in an NFL matchup.
Woody Paige, columnist for the Denver Post, shares his thoughts on Jay Cutler and the history of Denver quarterbacks. He's excited about the change under center but makes some fair and cautionary points as well.
Enjoy your Sunday, folks. It's a good day for football.
Woody Paige, columnist for the Denver Post, shares his thoughts on Jay Cutler and the history of Denver quarterbacks. He's excited about the change under center but makes some fair and cautionary points as well.
Cutler fared well in exhibitions, but they are called exhibitions for a reason, and he was performing against a lot of fellows who are currently driving UPS trucks. (...the article)
Enjoy your Sunday, folks. It's a good day for football.
Trippy
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This is fun :)
Copy and paste the code above into the address line.
I found this at Leesa's blog.Blog Unnameable
The New Yorker's 12-04-06 issue has the most interesting story on Bob Fass. I'd never heard of him before tonight. He is the host of "Radio Unnameable" on New York's WBAI.
His show was most famous in the '60s and early '70s and it tried to bring the vibe and voice of the counterculture to the radio. On any given night, Fass would be joined in the studio or on the phone by people like Abbie Hoffman or Bob Dylan. "Radio Unnameable" was one of those great "anything goes" radio programs.
Today's local radio has nothing like what I read about in the article. I imagine that today's version of Bob Fass (not including the actual Bob Fass) hosts a podcast instead of dealing with radio programmers and the FCC.
Before he became such an easy caricature, I spent many a late night lying in my bed listening to Larry King on his after midnight radio show. He would take calls from across the country and he would answer every call with two questions: "What do you do?" and "Why are you up?" Alone in my bed, I would listen to Mr. King interview these random callers and I would feel the pulse of my country. These listeners were all "nighthawks at the diner" and people who belonged in the Bukowski books I was reading at the time. Either lonely insomniacs or workers punching to the beat of a different time clock. They were my people and they kept my hours.
Wanna hear a bit of Bob Fass and Bob Dylan on "Radio Unnameable?" Click here for a couple of links. It's beautiful and raw.
More Blogs On Radio Unnameable:
James Wolcott's Blog: Must-Read
The Night of Not Buying The 60's
His show was most famous in the '60s and early '70s and it tried to bring the vibe and voice of the counterculture to the radio. On any given night, Fass would be joined in the studio or on the phone by people like Abbie Hoffman or Bob Dylan. "Radio Unnameable" was one of those great "anything goes" radio programs.
Today's local radio has nothing like what I read about in the article. I imagine that today's version of Bob Fass (not including the actual Bob Fass) hosts a podcast instead of dealing with radio programmers and the FCC.
Before he became such an easy caricature, I spent many a late night lying in my bed listening to Larry King on his after midnight radio show. He would take calls from across the country and he would answer every call with two questions: "What do you do?" and "Why are you up?" Alone in my bed, I would listen to Mr. King interview these random callers and I would feel the pulse of my country. These listeners were all "nighthawks at the diner" and people who belonged in the Bukowski books I was reading at the time. Either lonely insomniacs or workers punching to the beat of a different time clock. They were my people and they kept my hours.
Wanna hear a bit of Bob Fass and Bob Dylan on "Radio Unnameable?" Click here for a couple of links. It's beautiful and raw.
More Blogs On Radio Unnameable:
James Wolcott's Blog: Must-Read
The Night of Not Buying The 60's
The Man of the House
The man of the house is not me. I may be the male of the house, but if we are looking at this from a sterotypical sports fan perspective, then I have to give the points to my wife in that game. I am a sports fan, but compared to my beautiful bride, I don't know how many innings are in a soccer game or how many goals are scored in the average tennis match.
Now I will say this. I'm not a complete knucklehead. I am a fan of the NFL and the Tennessee Titans. I traveled to Memphis to watch them play the Buffalo Bills in 1997 and I attended a few of their games in their poorly attended 1998 season at Vanderbilt Stadium. For their mighty Super Bowl run season of 1999, I proudly cheered them on from the stands at every single contest. And that famous Music City Miracle game against the Bills? The one that almost every Nashvillian claims to have attended? Not only was I at that game, but I was on the field and in the locker room afterward.
On many a Sunday when I found myself on the work schedule, I'd wear my Steve McNair jersey underneath my bellman's jacket and a Titans pin underneath my name tag. That said, as much as I consider myself a fan, I'm pretty laid back about the whole thing. When the Titans lost the Super Bowl, I just shrugged and thought, "Better luck next year." My immortal beloved, however, was teary eyed and despondent. It was then that I saw the difference between a casual fan and a true fan. I was the former and she was the latter.
Paige has been rooting for the Georgia Bulldogs (excuse me - her Georgia Bulldogs) since she was the littlest of kids. I started caring about football somewhere around 1997. I had to work today and so I missed the opportunity to sit back on the couch and watch college football. But that was fine since I didn't even know who was playing anyway. My Paige, however, had the best time watching college ball all day long. I know that because she blogged about it. Here.
Now I will say this. I'm not a complete knucklehead. I am a fan of the NFL and the Tennessee Titans. I traveled to Memphis to watch them play the Buffalo Bills in 1997 and I attended a few of their games in their poorly attended 1998 season at Vanderbilt Stadium. For their mighty Super Bowl run season of 1999, I proudly cheered them on from the stands at every single contest. And that famous Music City Miracle game against the Bills? The one that almost every Nashvillian claims to have attended? Not only was I at that game, but I was on the field and in the locker room afterward.
On many a Sunday when I found myself on the work schedule, I'd wear my Steve McNair jersey underneath my bellman's jacket and a Titans pin underneath my name tag. That said, as much as I consider myself a fan, I'm pretty laid back about the whole thing. When the Titans lost the Super Bowl, I just shrugged and thought, "Better luck next year." My immortal beloved, however, was teary eyed and despondent. It was then that I saw the difference between a casual fan and a true fan. I was the former and she was the latter.
Paige has been rooting for the Georgia Bulldogs (excuse me - her Georgia Bulldogs) since she was the littlest of kids. I started caring about football somewhere around 1997. I had to work today and so I missed the opportunity to sit back on the couch and watch college football. But that was fine since I didn't even know who was playing anyway. My Paige, however, had the best time watching college ball all day long. I know that because she blogged about it. Here.
Friday, December 01, 2006
The Night Of A Thousand Vomits
I got home at 11:30 tonight and settled into my quiet routine of reading blogs and ruminating on the day. I was catching up on blogs alphabetically and somewhere between Peace Of My Mind and Running Into A Brick Wall, I heard Ari crying from her room. I rushed down the hallway to console her - a bad dream maybe? - and found her lying on her back, sobbing, with vomit running down her cheek. (I know.)
I scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom to clean her up. Almost two years old and feeling miserable, she looked up at me and trusted that I would help her feel better. By now, her mom was up and changing her bedsheets. Teamwork in parenting, it was after midnight and a baby was being bathed and sheets and blankets were being laundered. All was well, the baby was settled back in her bed and the parental units went back to where they needed to be - one back to sleep in preparation for the early morning alarm clock, the other back to the living room to wind down from a long work shift just concluded.
Ten minutes later, she was crying again and lying in a bed once more made a mess. We were back to our loving, caring duties and this time gave her some medicine for her upset stomach. With crossed fingers, we put her back to bed and hoped for the best.
Not even the medicine would stay down. And now, a few sessions later, I sit on the couch with my little girl by my side. Her brother is wide awake in his room thinking I don't hear him playing with his cars. She is wide awake and holding her babydoll. It's a restless night here at Chez Bez.
And tomorrow is going to be a long, sleepy day.
I scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom to clean her up. Almost two years old and feeling miserable, she looked up at me and trusted that I would help her feel better. By now, her mom was up and changing her bedsheets. Teamwork in parenting, it was after midnight and a baby was being bathed and sheets and blankets were being laundered. All was well, the baby was settled back in her bed and the parental units went back to where they needed to be - one back to sleep in preparation for the early morning alarm clock, the other back to the living room to wind down from a long work shift just concluded.
Ten minutes later, she was crying again and lying in a bed once more made a mess. We were back to our loving, caring duties and this time gave her some medicine for her upset stomach. With crossed fingers, we put her back to bed and hoped for the best.
Not even the medicine would stay down. And now, a few sessions later, I sit on the couch with my little girl by my side. Her brother is wide awake in his room thinking I don't hear him playing with his cars. She is wide awake and holding her babydoll. It's a restless night here at Chez Bez.
And tomorrow is going to be a long, sleepy day.
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