Fart on the duck

I could watch this all day.

Shaughnessy

I thought that nothing could damper my morning so allowed myself to read Dan Shaughnessy's article . I was wrong and was reminded of the potency of the jinx gods. Shaughnessy has not got this message of course (he refers to the Red Sox as "Kings of New England" and Schilling as "master") --hopefully his writing is too unbearable for the jinx gods to read. The theme of the article seems to be that true Red Sox fans should feel that our victory is inevitable. I fear Shaughnessy more than Gagne.

How sweet it is...

He's thinking, bring it!

General Strike

Don't go to work, don't buy stuff, still vote on 11/6. I'd do it.

Let's Go Myanmar: The BFC Travel Guide

I was talking to the housemate last night about where he might go on a youthful, traveling venture he is planning. I suggested Americans are most welcome in trashier countries worldwide and especially the trashy countries in Europe. He pointed out there are plenty of slobs in France and Italy, two countries where Americans are certainly not well liked, and I had to concede the point.

I came up with a new theory. People who are nice individually are often are dicks collectively, and vice-versa, dick countries on a global stage tend to have very friendly individuals. Take our own country, the USA. We're a wonderful people, but thanks to the Bush family, our good name has been smeared irretrievably, or at least for this decade. Now take the French: horrible one on one, but clear thinking and even benevolent internationally. The Canadians: often annoying individually, but pleasant as a country. Then consider the Yugoslav nations. We just had another delightful housemate from Bulgaria return home. We were all sad to see him go. These people are both friendly and surprisingly cool and hot, but lets face it, their leaders like to fight. The Brits, in the middle, and in the middle as always.

The mechanism for this relationship between nice people/jerk country is still forthcoming, but we at BFC believe it has something to do with nice people being too nice to prevent the jerk minority from taking over. A desire for power is certainly a key component of the asshole character, whereas nice people are better at working collectively. However, in asshole countries, people rightly assume their countrymen are also assholes, and they are able to cancel out the asshole majority, giving the nice minority a chance to run things. As a tourist, you experience a country as a collection of individuals rather than a group. Therefore, following this logic through, the housemate should go to Myanmar. Bon voyage!

Note about previous post

By 'Delia's Video Is Gone' I mean exactly the opposite. Delia's Video is right here.

Delia's Video Is Gone

A lot of people know the Johnny Cash Hurt video, but I've found some people aren't aware of the Delia video. Check it out.

Halloween

The Smoked Salmon has decided on her Halloween costume: Sexy Hamster.

The Dude

My housemate was watching Dr. Strangelove the other day. I pointed out some of the characters were based on historical figures. As house old man, I fogie out like this often. I feel it's my job. Never one for subtly, the housemate took this to mean the movie itself was a non fictional, historical reenactment. At the end of the film, when there is a nuclear holocaust, he asked me if that happened as well. I explained that the Cold War blessedly never went hot, and the human race avoid annihilation from the entire period from the end of WWII to 1989. He nodded, taking note of the information.

Bad Dog

I just saw a commercial where a stoner High School girl enters her kitchen and her dog, speaking in English, asks her to stop smoking pot. The dog whines and whines asking the girl where his best friend went, why does she have to smoke pot, why can't she stop, bla, bla, bla... The girl looks ashamed and sulks into the adjoining room.

This exact thing happened to me in High School too. When my dog asked me to stop smoking pot, I just said I'll stop smoking pot when you stop eating poop. That shut him up for a few years.

Panic

Lead of 1.5 games. Can one New Englander adhere to convention and round up? The Sox brass seems to be employing the Rocky Balboa strategy--disinterested in the division race, assuming at least a wild card, and resting key players while the league tires from pummeling us. The thing is we have no control and Sox management does. We are passengers on a Jet Blue flight and the pilot has let lose and circled the Hamptons*, upside down, while in line to land at JFK. We're freaking out! We must resort to time honored superstition to regain a false, but therapeutic sense of power over our own destiny. In said tradition, I recant the reference to "teaching a class" in the last post and admit that I am only a Teaching Assistant with a lab section. I was assisting the teaching of a class.


*Hallowed birthplace of Yaz--worthless sandy suburb and totally inferior to the Maine coast in all ways

House Senior (Official)

I thought that while the Smoked Salmon is off in glamorous NYC, I'd squander the remains of my youth and good looks down here. However what remains to be squander has recently been called into question. My early 20s German girl housemate announced the other day that she was going to "make party," and suggested it might be best for me to be working late during party. I protested, and she explained she'd love it if I attended party, but she was scared I'd think her and her guests were just "silly little girls." Naturally, I was the first to arrive at the party. Her friends were mainly Brazilian community college students. When they think of partying they think of drinking three shots of tequila and dancing. And when they think of dancing... Well how do I explain this? When I think of throwing a baseball I think of an arm based action. When they think of dancing they think of a butt based action. So the Brazilians arrived, dancing commenced, and Timberlake blasted into the wee hours. I had a class to teach in the morning and was in bed by 11; but word of the party has spread to the boys in New York, and the next time we make party we may include a recently divorced contingent to the usual mix.

Red Sox Senior Epidemiologist (Unofficial)

Tito chose to sit Mike Lowell to keep his intestinal bug from sweeping through the clubhouse. We here at BFC couldn't agree more. Quarantine can be the best form of medicine.

Could it be that Baltimore is entering a neoclassical phase? Well, a repressed but lovably quirky Pakistani-American friend of mine was awoken the other night by the sounds of a woman crying out in pain, she thought. What did it turn out to be? You guessed it. She peeked out the window and saw an interracial homosexual couple doing it by the light of the street lamp. I asked the woman if she woke up her husband, and she said, "No, we're in a fight."

Remember boys, this aint 21BC anymore. Be safe.

Buchholz (Bonzai in German, archaic)

Check out this scatter plot of Buchholz's pitches in his no-no. It may say more about the Red Sox fans who made it, than our pitcher but nonetheless it's cool. Note to Schilling: never shake off Varitek. Thanks to ws and ar.

BFC as Wine Sommelier

BFC: I converse with the wine through taste and smell. [BFC takes a healthy sip from his wine glass, shifts the wine between his cheeks like a tennis ball bounding between courts. Then he swallows deeply, darkly, deeply. BFC emerges from a trance like state and speaks again.]

BFC: I also listen to the wine.

BFC: [BFC turns his head and presses his ear to the wine glass. He then lowers the glass and faces you again.] The wine says the beauty of this evening is matched only by your own beauty.

BFC: [He presses his ear to the wine glasses again, and again he looks up.] The wine says one of your breasts is larger than the other, but I find them both stunning, especially the larger one.

BFC: [Again he listens to the wine and looks up.] The wine says you have an illegitimated half brother from an affair of your father's 32 years ago. Don't worry, your father extricated himself from the relationship, and the young mother never tracked him down. Your half brother is a carny, not a performer, but the guy who puts up the tents. He is quite respected in his field.

Things are looking up

Julian Tavarez has given up only 3 runs in his last 12 innings of starting pitching. The Red Sox are 7 1/2 games up, and most importantly the Mariners are 2 games up on the Yankees in the wild card race. I've never had a second favorite team in baseball, but I'm warming up to this Seattle team. Seattle is a fishing town and it's not their fault they are on the inferior ocean. This years playoffs may cause me to search back for this post and destroy it, but as of now things are good. I'm also on my honeymoon.

Pro Bonds

It's simply a historical fact that Barry Bonds hit more home runs as a professional baseball player than anyone, and that's the beauty of records: they are simply historical facts. It undermines the game to allow juicers to take records, but to debate legitimacy of records undermines the elegance of the sports record to far greater peril. Records are nice because they're totally non subjective, and once you introduce subjectivity you open up a whole field of futile debate over who played against whom on what, when etc. Babe Ruth never faced a black or Latino pitcher; can you adjust for that? Ted Williams spent his prime fighting in WWII; can we add homers he would have hit had the Japanese not bombed Pearl Harbor and Hitler not tried to take over Europe to Williams' career total? Can I adjust my resume for being lazy?

T4

I just picked up my phone and it was a voice mail calling me. I believe cell phone voice mail has become self-aware and taken on a snotty attitude.

Awesome baseball graphic

Check out this graphic on nytmes.com while it's up. It's awesome.

Julian Tavarez Reaches Zen-like State

Julian Tavarez, the Red Sox's sometimes starter, sometimes long man, has gone from infamous headhunter, nut bag to serene gentleman. He started last night for the Red Sox after not starting for two weeks, and put in what the Worcester T&G called a "gutsy" performance. After the game, Tavarez thanked Francona for the opportunity and said he’ll be ready to start again on 30 minutes’ notice. “Just rub on some FlexAll or Bengay, drink a little coffee, and I’ll be ready to pitch,” he said. “A lot of guys would say, ‘Oh, I haven’t pitched in two, three weeks. I can’t do it.’ I don’t put those thoughts in my head.”

I am now in my spot at work drinking coffee while covered in Bengay in honor of the outing.

The Controversial Closer

Many baseball fans who consider themselves among the Billy Bean, Bill James crew--the thinking fans have pointed to the over emphasis on the closer in today's game. To large extent they are right of course. They note that runs scored in any middle inning are equal to runs scored in the 8th and 9th, and therefore there is no reason to save one of your best pitchers for the end of the game. I'm not so sure that's entirely true. Due to the large luck component in baseball many games will be blow outs for one team or another. No matter who you have pitching your going to lose by 4 to 5 runs due to bad luck alone and there is no point in having your best guys in during a bad luck game. From the pitcher's point of view, the luck component is even larger because it encompasses how his fielders preform and who the team hits. However, as a manager by the 8th and 9th you have a pretty good idea if you're having a bad luck game or not. Saving a good pitcher for close games may allow you to keep from wearing him down in un-winable games.

T&G

I've been campaigning for a while to get all my Sox fan friends to switch to Worcester's T&G over the Boston Globe as their source for Sox news. If any more evidence is needed I submit this article. It's insightful, fact filled, and there's even a public health metaphor.

Lickers

I feel as though if the envelope were invented today we wouldn't lick it to seal it shut. I enjoy the taste of envelope glue and am thankful that the envelope came of age at a time when licking things was perfectly normal. In those days people were going around licking everything: light posts, door knobs, the handles on urinals. It was the non-lickers who were the odd ones. Yep, if you didn't lend a tongue in licking the city clean you were considered a hygiene risk.

Sports Fact

Lou Piniella and Dave Magadan are cousins. They are Spanish (i.e. from Spain) Americans.

Bumper Stickers

I’ve recently relocated from the Northeast to the mid Atlantic and I notice bumpers stickers are far more popular here. I think most of them are lame, but I recently heard about a good one. It reads: Prolife? Prochoice? Pro Football.

Rendering

I recently found out about rendering, the process whereby livestock parts leftover from the slaughterhouse and dead pets are made into cosmetics. Weird stuff.

The Departed

I just saw The Departed and it was as good as people say. It has particular resonance for me having known a guy growing up who was exactly like Matt Damon's character. Generally, I don't like movies with more than three well known male actors because they don't look actually like actors but just a bunch of dudes hanging out. That's fine for an Oceans 11 type movie where that's the point, but not for real movie. The Departed doesn't have this problem.

On the other hand, I don't like Jack Nicholson. I just don't think he's a good actor anymore.

Johnny Cash's birthday

It's Johnny Cash day

Scuba Diving Cat

Dude, check this out. It's a cat that scuba dives.

The Faith Dog

Ohh, man. When I saw this at the gym I ran, not walked to blog about it.

Robert Reich's controversial opposition to slavery

I know, I know, worrying about international trade is totally 90s, but so is Robert Reich, and for that matter so is this blogger. Thus I will say this: Reich suggested on his blog that 1) slavery should be abolished, and 2) an international minimum wage should attempt to be established and that minimum wage should be set around 1/2 a countries median income. Conservatives are so fanatical about the free market that they jumped on all over part 2) bypassing part 1) entirely. Can't we discuss part 1) before advancing to part 2)? Isn't that at the very core of why one might lay out a proposition in two parts. If so, do conservative really believe that we should be trading with countries that allow slavery? What a bunch of a-holes.

It should also be noted that Robert Reich blogs on blogger. It's really time to move on.

Pre Season Gossip

If Roger Clemens claims to be retired until July and then pops up on a team in playoff contention does that allow him to avoid steroid testing? If so, he'll totally get away with it and that's totally lame, unless Clemens resurfaces with the Red Sox--in which case it's shrewed.

Did you hear Jeter and A-Rod hate each other? I mean they won't admit to a life long brothership, therefore they hate each other. As I've always said: no pledge of life long brothership by Jeter and A-Rod = hate each other.

This Blog Is Your Blog

In the afore-blog regarding my recent creation of a Bruce mix, I should note I include Bruce's versions of the Woody Guthrie classic "this land is your land." The first interesting thing about this song is that according to Guthrie historians, WG made this song as an answer to Irvin Berlin's "God Bless America" which Guthrie found to be elitist and annoying, especially Kate Smith's version. This Kate Smith version is of course the version they play at baseball games post 9/11 along with "Take Me Out to the Ball Game". If you are tired of "God Bless America" in the seventh, then you are in good company, or at least you would be if Guthrie was still alive. As of now you just hate America.

The other interesting thing about the song and my mix is that there are multiple versions of "This Land Is Your Land". One is the cleaned up version sung by grade schoolers, while the others include lyrics deemed too commie for Flag day celebrants. Bruce did a version of the school kid one, and then discovered the alternative lyrics version, and of course immediately went to work on the alternative version. Unfortunately, Bruce tried to mix in Guthrie in on the track along with other living celebs. He botched the mixing terribly. Nonetheless and more for historical reasons both versions are included on my Bruce mix.

Springsteen

I recently sent my brother some Bruce Springsteen songs via MP3. I am a life long Springsteen fan and a friend of mine listened to so much Springsteen in High School, I've actually committed his entire catalogue to memory. In fact, I don't even play his music anymore. When I want to hear it I just play it in my head. I believe if aliens discovered me, they'd wonder why a popular recording artist chose my brain to store his music.

The Poopisode

It's pushed out of the pipes and ready for public. We pushed it out: the Poopisode.

Google this!

It's been clear to me for several months that Google now runs Blogger. Typically, I force from my mind any tech industry news I catch on NPR (we don't inflict insider information about our jobs on the entire country); however, it's become clear Googles running the show around here. I notice that I now have to sign into my gmail account before blogging and that blogger spell check works which in my mind points to Google. Initially I accepted this. Like an Italian in the early 1930s, I said, well at least the trains are running on time, fuck it.

But could Google be overrated? Yes, they have integrated my email with my blog I suppose, but let's look at some of their "target advertising". In the right margin of my email I notice a site that intends to teach me how to dance salsa. Over the last 7 or 8 years my feelings about salsa have grown from vague interest, to frustration and disappointment around my attempts at the most basic moves, to a full grown, mature hatred. I literally just encouraged my fiance to go salsa dancing with our downstairs neighbor who openly hits on her just to allow some outlet for her salsa instinct that doesn't involve me. But fair enough that Google doesn't know that. I'm probably in the demographic of the salsa student so I'll let it pass.

On to the next bit of advertising: a site that promises to teach me the secrets of training Karelian bear hunting dogs. I own neither a dog nor have much use for bear hunting partners of any species. Enough said on that one...

Thus I am brought to my favorite bit of advertising, targeted with the precision of a laser guided stealth missile fired by a crazed and drunken Central Asian dictator who thinks he is playing Mario Cart: it's the professional website of a one, Dr. Edmund Kwan. Dr. Kwan offers Thermage, the only none invasive plastic surgery technology that promises to preserve my youthful appearance and my Asian heritage. I of course am white, but maybe I'll give Dr. Kwan a shot. Dr. Kwan's approach is subtle and sensitive. Dr. Kwan knows "preserving ethnicity is the biggest concern of Asians having plastic surgery". Does that mean Asians can age into white people? Will I age into hottie Brazilian chick? Who knows? In a section of the website called ethnic identity, aka classic Kwan, Kwan writes that Asian cosmetic surgery was often done in beauty parlors, then he sights some financial statistics about Asian American buying power (for no particular reason), then he deftly and delicately notes that some Asian Americans want to look more white and some don't thus appealing to the entire spectrum of what he views as his potential clientele. He then emphasizes the subtlety of his work again. I had just wanted to send an email about meeting up for beers later, but now that Goolge has presented me with this, I'm hooked.

Before I go for the full tummy tuck, I better shift the homebase of Blue Fish Canoe to Kyle's job. Stay tunned for the new url.

A quick review

Things that are terrible: movies about relationships. Oooo, we're soo sophisticated. And what's going on with this guy? And what's going on with his hair?

Things that are great: a Worcester boy and Jesse Berkett little league alum, Andy Ross, winning a grammy.

She-male fish

We have some more bad news for Baltimore this morning. It turns out pollutants leaking into the Chesapeake are making she-male fish according to Science the blog. One of these sex changing chemicals is Thalate, which Science the blog defines as "new car smell". Of course this is only bad news for more conservative Chesapeake dwellers, while some fish are into the she-male scene. We at Bluefish Canoe support their alternative life choice.

Island broken for main

A professor I have has the unfortunate luck to have lost much of his hair in the usual fashion of male pattern baldness, except he's kept his bangs. It's an island of hair broken off from the mainland like Florida after the icecaps melt. I can't think of a less dignified way for the hair to go. I can also see how it might be difficult to shave any hair once one starts to lose hair. You don't want to give the wrong impression to hair you want to keep. It's a tough situation.

Got to go..

I was about to write a blog today that makes novel, witty and insightful observations about our world (or maybe even a satirical look at a modern life so bleak (I hadn't decided)) but I'm called to mentor the youth of this nation

Pats faulter, oddly Globe comes through

First the Pats choke against Peyton Manning and the Colts, and then someone from the Boston Globe staff, Eric Wilbur, writes an almost Bill Simmons-esque blog entry that doesn't piss me off almost as much as the Pats loss. Weird stuff. Is this the dawn of a new day? No, not to worry, in an article titled "Fighting the good fight" that starts "They died with their boots on and one too few defensive backs on the field," the Globe returns to the frat boy, English major style they inflict on us after major New England sporting events(1).


1. See articles around any Fenway home opener.

peekvid

Has anyone else seen this peekvid.com. You seem to be able to watch movies and TV shows over the Internet. You stream them, and don't download. I assume that makes it legal.

WTMD

Johnny Marr is playing on the new Modest Mouse album. The Rapture is coming to Charm City, and Superchuck superstar Mac McCaughan is putting out a new album with his new band Portastatic… In an obviously related note, I’ve been driving around a lot recently listening to WTMD, Baltimore’s college radio station.

The Minnow

I brought “Name that Thing” to the Minnow today. I’m training the Minnow, an 8 year old student in a local inner city school, to play Boogle, dominos, and to make paper airplanes (that is the Jedi arts more generally). He took to it like a bird to flight. Next week: blogging.

Dix

I am very rarely moved by art. I like Impressionism; I enjoy pictures of naked women, landscapes, seascapes, and can almost pretend to like Jackson Pollock. But I saw an exhibit of the work of Otto Dix and I must admit it was really cool. His is anti-war and stresses the great need for better looking prostitutes in Weimer Germany.

Another Mysterious Smell Takes NYC

I arose this morning in my friend’s apartment and was greeted by a gaseous funk. It was natural gas, but not the usual kind found around me, but the kind that lights your stove. I thought the stove was on, but a quick examination revealed it was not. I assumed my nose had become unaccustomed to NYC and it was nothing to worry about.

However, it turns out it was a big to-do. The entire city smelled like gas and the masses were in an uproar. One New Yorker, an accountant named Michael Williams, reportedly postponed a cigarette break for fear of blowing up the entire city! Naturally, NYC officials blamed New Jersey, a thoroughly rank State, for letting this one go. New Jersey denied it, ergo supplied it, and the case is now closed.

However, the whole episode brings back fond memories of the mysterious and still unidentified maple syrup smell in Washington Heights of October 05.

Little Super Star

You might want to check this out. It's a little weird, a little funny. It's good.

Starbucks Review

I’ve been staying at the Smoked Salmon’s mom’s apt and working out of the local Starbucks. I’m not a coffee drinking and the tea at Starbucks is undrinkable, thus I am forced to review the Starbucks megacorp in the only way I interact with it: as a public bathroom with internet access. As a public bathroom with internet, I must say often the lines for the shitter are long, the condition of the space like a back alley in the Mumbai Red Light District, and the internet overpriced ($10/hr!). On the other hand, Starbucks is the only widely accessible public john with internet, and the couch at this Starbucks is surprisingly comfortable. All in all, I give it a B-.

Yuletide Post

So I haven’t posted for a while. Sorry.

There have been two major developments of this Yuletide: Name That Thing and the farting preacher. Name That Thing requires some explanation. It’s a bar game invented by the unassuming, unpredictable, and always brilliant D-Moore. One boozer thinks of a thing and the other boozers get one shot to name that thing—no hints, no hot/cold, no pantomime, nothing. Then the boozer who initially thought of the thing awards the victory to the boozer who came closest to naming the original thing. Typically, this call is made by a free association criteria specific to the original namer of the thing. Say I name a thing, for instance: Carl Yastrzemski. Friend one says Deep Blue, friend two says pot holes, and friend three says the city of Manchester, NH. Obviously, I would award victory to the boozer who said city of Manchester because I once new a girl from there whose name was … and three of my friends slept with her over a period of several years. They awarded her the “Triple Crown” for her bedroom feat and started to call her Yaz. Yaz is the last baseball player to win a Triple Crown. The boozer who said Manchester thinks of the next thing and the entire process starts over.

Also I’ve taken the Farting Preacher to Worcester. The farting preacher is a preacher who farts. My mom said it was the funniest thing she’d seen in years.

Boo-ya!

Is it possible to pass the carcass of Rumsfeld’s career around like the Stanley Cup? I’d drink from that--risk of mad cow aside.

Next on the block: 1) Ken Mehlman and 2) John Bolton.

I encourage you to join in the time-honored chorus of victors:

Na na naaa na, na na naaa na,
Say hey, hey
Goodbye

Na na naaa na, na na naaa na,
Say hey, hey
Goodbye

Western Vigilantism Goes 21st Century

If you’re like many of my computer science minded friends in the late 90s you can look at just about any problem and think: how can the web remedy this? Problems like the oppressive expense of music and beer were fixed with Napster and homebrew kits available online. The homebrew left you drunk, but with an odd burning in your throat and asshole (a story for another time, maybe). If you’re like many of my friends in the late 90s and a racist with an inflated sense of your own voice in the national discourse, then this is a great time. You may now take you delusions to action at http://www.texasborderwatch.com/. It’s a website setup by the State of Texas that allows citizens to monitor cameras along the Texas-Mexican border to watch for potentially illegal border crossings.

I’d like to combine this Minuteman software with the sports gambling by giving the Mexicans little numbers and taking bets on who makes it. Young men with supple strawberry picking fingers will be given even odds, while pregnant women and the crippled will get 1 in 10 at least. Obviously any attempt to influence the outcome of runs you’ve bet on by calling the border patrol during the run will be considered unethical. This will be far more extreme than riding a stupid snowboard. X-Games be dammed, and make way for the Mex-Games!

Daylight Saving

After a great deal of contemplation and consultation with the Smoked Salmon, we at Bluefish Canoe have decided the annual expiry of Daylight Savings Time will result in more light when we wake up in the morning. We base this conclusion on the “fall back, spring forward” axiom. From there we reason that when we wake up at 7:00 AM New Time, it will be 8:00 Old Time, ergo as light as it was at 8:00 AM last week… Or, wait, I can never get this. Is it the other way around? How does my computer know about Daylight Savings?

A decision is made

I’ve been weighing my options on this question my entire life and I think I finally have an answer. There is no better animal than the fox. It’s not too cutie, but not ugly. It’s laden with symbolism, but not overdone in a Bald Eagle sort of way. It’s the closest thing to Han Solo the animal kingdom can offer. I rest my case.

Alcohol concentrations in beer

There is a surprising amount of confusion on this issue; for instance many beer drinkers don't know that Guinness (4%) has less booze than most American lagers (5%). Check out this site for more info. Note: if your eyes wander to the "Calories" column you are not a man.

The Santorum

From what I understand I was way late on this one, but in an ongoing effort to be in the middle of the curve I give you my little contribution to the Santorum.

Worcester and the Staff of Power

Worcester MA is ahead of the curve again. Community Associated Methicillin Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus (MRSA) has been spotted in Worcester according to a school nurse with whom Bluefishcanoe had connection via a highly unreliable but in this case totally certain source (the mother of all Blue Fish). Community acquired MRSA is a drug resistant form of Staph infection that in its non-hospital associated variant has been known mostly to stylish gay communities in New York and LA. Now Worcester is home to a Nobel Prize winner for medicine a well a MRSA outbreak. What next? Resurgent whooping cough, polio, maybe even Bird Flu… Worcester, the Athens of modern science in both practice and need. Worcester, the Harvard of Massachusetts...

Gay Old Pedophiles (GOP)

In an attempt to shelter even greater numbers under their big tent, the GOP has re-branded their initials to stand for Gay Old Pedophiles (the new GOP). They want their gay, child-lusting constituents to feel as comfortable as the church going set.

More big news

It’s been a weekend for the little guy. Yankees were knocked out of the playoffs by the Tigers. TO, Parcells, and Bledsoe lost to the Eagles, and the Republicans continue hemorrhage. You might accuse us at Bluefish Canoe of confusing politics and sports again, but we argue there is a common thread here. It’s simply don’t be an asshole. Why can’t TO and Bledsoe shut up for one second while on the sidelines? Every time the camera panned to watch their astonishment at losing again, they were screaming about something at someone. Donovan Mcnabb on the other hand, we was 100 percent cool.

Oh and it goes on. A House member from NY and GOP leader, Thomas “THE REPUBLICAN” Reynolds, aired a commercial where he apologies for not doing enough about Foley (REPUBLICAN-FL). Reynolds admits his hand in the whole sordid cover up, and also admits he informed Denny Hastert (REPUBLICAN) of Foley’s attempts to have sex with young, male, pages insinuating Hastert could have done more to stop the Republican, Mark Foley, from Foley’s attempts to seduce young, male pages. Let the ship sink. It’s every Republican, pederast-conspirator for himself!

And nothing will seal the deal like a media narrative around Republicans losing control of Congress because they’re a bunch of pedophiles who are using the Internet to go after your children. Finally the self-fulfilling media prophecy is not about the Democrats lacking a positive or coherent message, but it’s simply the truth REPUBLICAN = PEDOPHILE = G.O.P. out of a J-O-B.

Remember while you sleep, old Republican men are instant messaging your sons in attempts to seduce them.

Pedophilia = Republican

With every passing moment it becomes more and more obvious. Republicans will make your sons gay. If you want your son to be gay then vote Republican. The blogosphere is at near consensus on this point.

Remember: Pedophilia = Republican.

I call it Pedo-Republican-philia.

Foley’s lawyer announced Foley never had sexual contact with a minor. So how old were his boyfriends? 17? 18 and day? The age of consent in DC is 16 as it is in many States so should we assume Foley had sex with 16 year olds. I hope those kids contact reporters soon because I do believe the Republicans will kill them to keep them quiet.

I’m also sure Hastert knew/should have known about Foley. But maybe fellow House Floridian Katherine Harris knew about Foley as well. A quick google search shows KATHERINE HARRIS HAS NOT TO DENIED THAT SHE HELPED COVER UP MARK FOLEY'S SEX WITH 16 YEAR OLD BOYS. If Katherine Harris knew about Foley, maybe she mentioned it to old buddy Jeb Bush. Maybe Jeb should have reported this behaivor to George. Is someone looking into this?

What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas

I saw an advertisement today where a guy gets a cat scan. The doctors say he’s fine; then he’s sitting with what I assume to be his significant other and a physiatrist. The significant other is asking the shrink if it’s possible to forget a whole week. The shrink (male) twitches nervously and the guy makes an I forgot a week face.

But what is happening in Vegas? What is Vegas advertising? This is all far to subtle. I still don’t get it…

Last time I was in Vegas all I saw was middle American families. Can marketing make a place sleazy, then wholesome, then sleazy again? Is there still hope for Times Square? Are the marketing people just messing with our minds for the shear pleasure of it at this stage? If this works can we make Baltimore the town for pyromaniac nuns and Worcester the town for female body builders who ride unicycles?

Mets Post Season Hopes

I just heard Orlando Hernandez went down with a strained calf (hurt whilst jogging in the outfield). I believe that leaves John Maine, Tom Glavin, Steve Trachsel, and then Darren Oliver I guess. I'd bet on LA on this one.

To the DNC

Do I have to be the one to say it because I will? Ok, here goes.

VOTE DEMOCRAT.
REPUBLICANS ARE PEDOPHILES.

Star Athlete A Finds Trouble,Yet Again

Monday afternoon star professional athlete, A, was caught injecting steroids into his arms, legs, and buttocks while relaxing in a crowded city park. Despite photo and video evidence from a variety of tourists as well as a bewilderingly slow government prosecutor who recovered the needles and empty steroid bottles (jugs really) from the scene and then put them into a secret vault under the Rocky Mountains, A denies steroid use. When reporters asked A about pictures taken with several voluptuous female fans at the time of the incident that showed hypodermic needles still dangling from player A’s calf muscle, A burst into a tirade of profanity. He blamed the media for his problems, then implied his teammates where a fault. Then while slurping from a bottle of Gray Goose and taking a bite from a brick of cocaine like it was an apple, he accused referees, High School geeks, tricky transvestites with nice hair and boob jobs, possibly the Jews (later analyses of the recording proved inconclusive on this point), and his absent father for his shortcomings. A then burst into tears and sped away from the scene in a Hummer while firing shots from an automatic weapon into a near by office building.

Authorities have agreed to drop all charges against A in exchange for an apology from A released by A’s agent where A apologies for uttering harmless statements which were then misconstrued by the media. This has not been a distraction to the team, A's agent added. However, A’s famous coach C has suspended A for one half of Tuesdays practice.

All of this comes in the context of A’s off season trial for selling a nuclear device to a group of known terrorists. Owner, O, bought the courthouse where the trial took place and charged admission to everyone in attendance including the judge leading to the mistrial.

In a twist that no one would have bet on 10 years ago, David Wells appears to be the cleanest professional athlete.

After September

October approaches as inevitably as the march of time itself. However I prefer to think of the month as Rocktober.

Wicked Good Names for Stuff

Fiction writing abounds with characters whose names give the readers some insight into that character’s character. A religion talking bird named Moses may seem to lack subtlety in some works, but I’ve stumbled across recent examples from real life that may make Moses the religious bird appear realistic if contrived.

The first being the giant HMO known as Kaiser Permanente. To translate it from both German and Spanish it would mean roughly, the Permanent Emperor—an odd choice for a Health Maintenance Organization that claims to have no ambitions of world domination.

The second, and this one is not very interesting and more just pathetic, is a ghetto housing project near Johns Hopkins Hospital called “The Target”.

The third (and finest I believe) is an organic food company recently at the center of an E. coli in spinach outbreak. It is a company that through its sloppiness and incompetence allowed E. coli to sicken many and kill a few. It's a company whose Chief Operating Officer is named Charles Sweat. And it's a company that allowed those with some resistance to this bacterium to live on and reproduce another day, thus increasing the frequency of their genes in the population. This company is of course Natural Selection Foods.

If you're reading this, you have to check out this thing with the cardboard cars from 2 posts ago. I can't get enough of those things.

Fuckery

The pro football team in Baltimore is called the Ravens alluding to Poe’s classic work “The Raven”. Fitting, in a city where the residents seem to have a certain gift with the artful turn of phrase. For instance, my mechanic described the speed with which he could get out of city phone numbers from 411 as “faster than a cat like his own ass.” The Smoked Salmon overheard a group of transit workers discussing a boss. “He used to me alright till he gave up drinkin. Now he’s written people up and shit. There’s some real fuckery going on around here” Indeed!

Cool cars

With many apologies to my e-fan base I submit this entry: http://youtube.com/watch?v=AXc71a2OKqM. A friend of mine did this. Godspeed car men.

District of Commuting

Bluefish Canoe has relocated/transitioned-to the bedroom communities of the most powerful men and women on earth. I now study at the fine city of Baltimore, MD and the smoked salmon is finishing her schooling (pun intendito, mofo) in DC. We tried to settle b/w Baltimore and DC but although the two cities are fairly close this is not an easy proposition. Public transport as I know it frequents these suburbs irregularly and the men and women of power tend commute via high speed automobile. If anyone feels these men and women of power are just regular folk like you and I, then I beg to differ. If you believe that the leadership of this country is simply faced with tough decisions in a cruel and terror filled world, and that’s why their actions appear like wild warmongering, then you have never commuted with said men and women of power. If you think that the leaders of this nation are any different from savage rulers of antiquity such as the men who invented soccer while kicking around the heads of their vanquished enemies, then you have never tried to merge onto a four lane mega-“beltway” after 6:00 AM. I will estimate that at least half of the people commuting in and around Washington DC are homicidal maniacs bent domination at any cost whilst driven mad by the sent of the blood of the weak and wounded. Just listen to a traffic report. It’s litany of carnage spoken by a chipper Midwestern woman. This morning I heard one that went not unlike this, “Hi, Mike. Things are smooth coming up from Virginia now that a motorist was allowed to blow up the Wilson Bridge. However, we do have a wreck on 495 northbound coming up on the Pine Branch Road exit [my route]. It’ll be another 22 minutes before the scavenger crew pulls all the useable scrap metal off the highway to sell to the Chinese. There have been some reports of some slippage on the blood of the drivers in the wreck, but I just hit a kidney and then a pituitary gland at about 85 mphs and I barely heard a bump. Back to you Mike.” Mike, "Thanks Staci. Another twist in the Ramsey case..."

Team USA Is Back, Baby

After losing in the last Olympics in embarrassing fashion, Team USA Basketball has rebounded and is wuppin’ it up in the World Championship. The idea behind the latest incarnation of Team USA is to get a core group of professionals together and keep them together for a few years so they’re ready for the next Olympics. The problem with the last Olympic team was thought to be lack of team cohesion due to not enough games together. This new formula of a team accustom to playing together is working tremendously well and we’ve had to bring in a Team USA Team B to keep from running up the score against the other teams. Team USA B lacks seasoned NBAers and is comprised mainly of recent college grads. The only problem is Team USA B is still blowing out all the international competition. Thus I suggest we bring in a Team USA C composed of Americans guaranteed to falter against any competition on the court. I for one volunteer to join, if not lead, Team USA C. I’m whiling to play in the Olympics for my country. I’m whiling to take on fame, riches, and endless endorsements when my country calls.

Zany Google Hi Jinx

Do a Google search for the word “Failure”. It’s pretty funny.

4:45

Yesterday the Red Sox started playing baseball at 1:00 PM and didn’t get through until 12:52 AM. During this great expanse of time they played 2 games, one of which broke the record for longest 9 inning game ever played at 4 and 45 minutes. The Red Sox managed to lose both games to the Yankees. I watched the entire second game. By around midnight Fenway had gotten so empty you could hear on TV individuals heckling Yankee players over the muted and decimated crowd. I haven’t heard that happen at Fenway since the early 90s. Moreover, the game was covered in NY by the Yankee announcers, so I didn’t have to soothing cadence and salty wit of Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy to lull me through the evening (Yes I do believe Jerry Remy to be down right salinous*). I would recommend to no one watching the Red Sox lose to the Yankees for 4 hours and 45 minutes alone on a Friday night. Maybe a long work meeting or a bad movie comes close to this poor choice, but somehow not quite.

* Note: Microsoft spell checker does not believe “salinous” is a word. I feel the very institution which is Jerry Remy provides ample ground for a resurgence of this fine adjective.

Late August Baseball

The Sox are losing the first game of a double header right now. 8-3. We have John Lester on the hill for the second game and… well we’ll just say he’s due for a strong outing. It’s the point in the season were I don’t care if we win the World Series, I don’t even care if we’re swept in 3 games in round one of the playoffs. I just don’t want the Yankees to get to the post season. What I fear most is both the Sox and Yankees playing each other again in October because 1) history suggests we’ll lose, and 2) I can’t take the endless rivalry montages made saccharine by the imbeciles at Fox who cover the playoffs. The Red Sox highlights and lowlights of last 20 years are the highlights and lowlights of my life. It’s just too emotional to watch the Aaron Boone homer 50 times a day while Tim McCarver reminds us this “might be the fiercest rivalry since the Homo Sapiens finally crushed the Neanderthals.” How many times did we have to watch the Buckner error during the 04 playoffs? I don’t come to McCarver’s house and play footage of his wife and Joe Buck going at it 50 times a day, do I? (Note to self: find some way to do that; it'll be nasty but worth it.)

Blue Fish Canoe's final days in NYC

I'm movin' again. Fellas, get you drinkin shoes. We got celebratin to do.

Pandora

This dude at work told me about something called pandora.com. It’s a website which customizes a radio station for you based on a suggested band and then a series of up or down votes. It plays pretty good music and it is fun to see if a computer can grasp the subtle nuances and sophistication of my musical taste. I can test to see if the computer can find music I like as fast as I can. It’s like Kasparov versus Deep Blue or John Henry versus whatever it was that John Henry was hammerin’ against.

Ahmadinejad's comment section

I found the flags on Ahmadinejad's blog. It turns out he's got a comment section and a Q&A. I don't recommend leaving any comments on his blog if you're going to leave any trace to this blog.

Fortunately his sever doesn’t seem to be able to handle the increased workload posed by the comments.

Ahmadinejad Are You Out There?

As you may have noticed this site lacks the substantial iCrew that many of the cooler blogs role with. Today, I reach out to a new blogger and invite him into my web social scene. Today, I unveil my link to the blog of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. The President of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, started a blog recently and I’m hopeful that once he sees how many hits he’s getting from bluefishcanoe, he’ll reciprocate my offer and link to this site, thus cementing our virtual relations like the Friendship Bracelets of my youth. Supposedly there is some way to look at this blog in English by clicking on the American flag. I haven’t found it yet.

Review

Listen to our podcast at Kylesjob, I beg you. Please. Mr. Geography may be among the coolest people on the planet. And if you listen, or even if you don’t listen, please right a review of the show. You can do that by going to the link above, clicking on “Add to iTunes” in the right corner, then from iTunes click on write a review also in the right corner.

Also we will be contacting Mr. Geography again so if you have question that you think can stump him then email us at questions@kylesjob.net

Oil Can Update: Really bad outing in 87

Oil Can Boyd’s hopes of returning to a baseball diamond as a pro player were dashed earlier this year when ongoing legal problems resulting from threats he made to a former business partner that the “authorities” deemed “highly credible” voided a contract he had signed with the Nashua, NH, Pride. Evidently, Pride ownership insisted on a special Can clause in Oil Can’s contract which stipulated the Can must remain out of jail for lengthy stretches of the season. Once again the lawyers ruin all our fun with senseless detail and frivolity.

However, amazingly, The Can managed to get in the August 3 addition of the Boston Glob in an interview with a man named John Orrico. Orrico was the bat boy for the visiting teams in the Kingdom from 1986-1987. Why the Orrico interview was published the August 3, 2006 addition of the Globe remains unclear. However Orrico does recount the following incident:

“He [Oil Can Boyd] was a piece of work," according to Orrico. "He was this wiry, crazy guy, and he's out tossing the ball. Then he came in, and there was these wood lockers and he started biting them. I don't know why, but if the Kingdome was still there, you'd see a full impression of his teeth in those mahogany-stained lockers. You could have taken dental records off them."

Twenty years later, The Can instantly remembers the incident. "Yeah, it happened," he said on a recent visit to Fenway Park. "Bad outing. Really bad outing."

Pennyyya

The Red Sox just lost 5 straight to two of the worst teams in baseball, the Devil Rays and the Royals due mainly to terrible pitching. When you’re a fan of a game like baseball that has such a strong chance or luck component you have to expect this type of thing from time to time. Bad teams will beat good teams. Unfortunately for the Sox, this slump has coincided with a Yankee surge and the Sox have gone from first to 3 games back. The only solace in all of this is that Willy Mo Peña homered last night and the man the Sox traded for Willy Mo, Bronson Arroyo, has now dropped to 9-8 after going 9-3 to start the season; and thus the sting of a trade of dubious wisdom is not so sharp.

This brings me to another point. Why does it always take me 5 minutes to find non-standard letters in Microsoft Word? How many Peeanyyas do we need in this country before we get a decent way to type the “ñ”. My personal feeling is that it should have become standard after Tony Peña. I use the “^” once every five years and I’m not even really sure what the “ ` ” or the “ } ” are supposed to indicate, but I can’t get a decent way to put an “~” over an “n”. I’m sure the right wingers will quake over the symbolic implications of the “ñ” on their keyboards, no doubt ruffling their mullets and smudging their camouflage face paint as they sit hunkered down along the southern boarder with big nets or automatic weapons. But for normal people it’s just a matter of convenience.

Smoking Study

A study done by the NYC Department of Health on teenage girl's smoking habits found that every girl who smoked said that the show “Sex in the City” helped inspire them to smoke. It’s a truly influential work.

Hitting Slump Ends

I know there may be many things going on in the world now. However, you’ll be happy to hear that my long standing slump at the plate (softball hitting) has ended. I went 2 for 4 yesterday in our win against the Department of Finance. Unfortunately, after hitting my second hit of the day at my second at bat, I went 0 for 2, kicking off a new slump.

Jedi Squirrles

Things have been a little busy here in the big pond (fish metaphors, the people love the fish metaphors, hit them relentlessly with fish metaphors). But on another note check this out:

New Shirt

At my most earnest behest, the Smoked Salmon got a new shirt yesterday. It simply reads, "Hummers are for dicks."

Episode 5

We've got a new podcast out. Czech it out.

Never dis a bald Frenchman

What did Marco Materazzi, the Italian soccer player, say to French great, Zinedine Zidane, to instigate the infamous assault on the Italian defenseman? Who knows, but the blogosphere is brimming with apocryphal speculation. Did Materazzi call the French son of Algerian immigrants a terrorist? Materazzi denies using such slander claiming he is too ignorant to come up with the word: terrorist. (On the other hand, one might argue that ignorance might be a perfect avenue for racially charged name calling.) Did Materazzi call Zidane’s mother a whore? Did Materazzi call Zidane’s whore his mother (an even more head butt-able offense)? Did Materazzi insult Zidane’s favorite blog: www.bluefishcanoe.blogspot.com? Don’t worry my friend; no FIFA investigation can pry your secret from me…

On World Cup Sterotyping

It seems too easy to describe a national team’s style in the World Cup as similar to the stereotype of that nation as a whole. But after watching Germany v. Italy the other day it's hard to comment on either team without acknowledging Germany played a highly controlled match with each player working in a well defined role, and Italy took a more risky approach exhibiting both flare and passion. Why haven't those who try endlessly to market this game (call it whatever you like: I don't intend to weigh in on the soccer v. football debate) in the United States picked up on this adherence to national rep as a gimmick? I'd watch EU delegates discuss French farm subsidies if I could be guaranteed a drunk Irishman or a sexy but unattainable Spanish chick. Throw in a Frenchman with a burette and a Russian mobster and we have and HBO original series.

Pedro v. Sox

Ahh, Pedro. It's sappy but I don't care. Jerry Remy said it best, "I don't care if he [Pedro] is throwing 20 miles per hour. I still want him on my team."

Note: Jerry Remy went to the Mets booth to be interviewed by the Mets announcers and Remy started commenting on the Mets v. Sox game. Remy is an announcer among announcers.

Bluefish Canoe Goes Shopping

As part of the pre-pre-ceremony for the wedding we’re having a second engagement party this Monday (in fact it so precedes the event it’s happening over a year prior). I set out four days ago to buy a new suit for the occasion to bring my total number of suits to a sum that allows me to refer to them as suits as opposed to the sole suit I know own. I am 5 feet 8 inches tall and 140 pounds. I’m not a large man by any means, but I felt, after taking a quick survey of men on the street this afternoon, that I’m not freakishly small either. I like to think of myself as comfortably resting on the western, leftward slope of the height bell curve with most of my fellow Euro-Americans east/right of me, but plenty of our newest Americans from regions of the world fraught with malnutrition to keep me company on the western slope. Yet a thorough search of men’s clothing stores north of canal street turned up not one suit under $1,000 that would fit me, and not one suit that I would pay more than $10 to own. Every single coat-pant combo that I could buy was too big. Evidentially, if you’re my size you have to have suits made for you driving the price into quadruple digits. I started off going to small cheap chains like H&M or Banana Republic and they had nothing. I moved up to Macy’s, Brooks Brothers, and Bloomingdale’s, stores with several floors of men’s formal wear, and they had not one suit I could buy.

I believe this suit-less-ness could be no clearer indication that the Corporate Bastard is not just trying to homogenize us in look and thought but also in body shape. If you’re not 6 feet tall then you have to try and get married in jeans resulting in a jilting at the alter for your slovenliness so your lady can go procreate with someone who can produce kids that fit into mass produced clothing. Friends suggested that it was probably a supply and demand thing with the actual cause having to do with the prevalence of 6 foot men with money and the effect being the big suits, until I relayed this exchange: I go into Barney’s and ask the suit guy if he has any 36-short sized suits. He asked what I’d like to spend. I say $400 (a little bit of an overestimation). He tells me they have nothing in the store at that price. They have literally 2 floors of suits. I grab the first price tag I see and it reads: SALE $348. I bring this to the suit guy’s attention and he says, “well, I meant, we have nothing in your price range in your size”. I ask why not, and he says, “we simply don’t carry clothing that small, maybe you could go to the gym and bulk up a little.” Judging by the tenor of his voice, I estimate he was 20 percent joking and 80 percent giving sincere advice. That translates to 80 percent of his head so lost in exploring the cavernous folds of his own arse that it seems reasonable to him to suggest that I might alter my entire body shape to buy his clothing.

In the end I found a shop near where I work. It’s the last store going south on Broadway far past where most people look. Every shopper there other than myself was a Latino man over the age of 70. And I bought a funky, pimpin’, cigar smoking, salsa drumming, badass suit. Price = not $400.

The Seeger Sessions

I am now listening to the new Bruce Springsteen folk album called “We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions” despite the overwhelming sense that I’m becoming less cool by the second. The album is actually very good as is the flip side DVD. The thing about iconic musicians who become characters in their own story and then infuse that character into their music—you know the Springteens, the Johnny Cashes, the Shane Macgowans—is that they’re all about authenticity… or at least the convincing appearance of it.

World Cup

One thing I like about the World Cup is that often underdog teams represent countries that are also underdogs of sorts making their improbable victories all the more fun to support. How can you not cheer for Costa Rica against Germany, Togo against Switzerland, Ecuador against Germany, or really anyone against Germany? So far Ecuador is the only one of these teams with any wins (against teams where Ecuador was not an underdog), but Togo still has a chance to upset France on Friday. Go Togo, where ever you are!

On Moderation

Everything in moderation. Even moderation. I took the spirit of this saying to a night of boozing with my bro last weekend. I spent the next day with the odd sense that gravity had become somehow stronger.

Out in the Woods

A gay male couple, P&D, moved to a farmhouse near my uncle in Maine. As this is a country fishing town, there was some apprehension as to how the gay couple would get along with the natives—the gay couple standing out for two reason: 1) their lifestyle, rare though not unheard of in the area, and 2) because of their status as “from away” (i.e. hailing from any town other than this town).

I am pleased to report this experimentation in modern, tolerant living in rural America has gone well. For example, recently hounds were harassing P&D’s sheep. P was cooking a crème brulèe and D, a chicken marsala. D was so enraged by the hound’s insolence (but unfortunately sans shotgun) that he charged out of the kitchen to confront the dogs. Finding the chicken marsala still in his hand, he flung the marsala at the K-9 rapscallions. Finely cooked fowl may not be the fiercest of weapons, but the hounds devoured it, distracting the dogs from the sheep and sparing the sheep further distress.

Long waited blog

A friend of mine, JH, is Israeli and his brother is gay. The brother, also a JH, is working on a gay Israeli porn called Suspicious Package. My friend will be making the sequel, a straight porn based on the Abu Ghraib scandal called Dishonorable Discharge.

Tavarez

Has anyone ever seen Julian Tavarez pitch well? In his stint with the Sox, I've never witnessed it. Has it ever happened?

The Maine Kids

I just got back from visiting my cousin and uncle in Maine. My cous, a 15 year old young woman, and I went for a drive in the rental with her at the wheel. It was a moral victory if nothing else.

My cousin and her boyfriend are so cool I tend to forget the 12 year age difference between them and myself. However, the age gap did appear at odd times. Stevie Ray Vaughn came on the radio and the boyfriend didn’t know he was died, the kids didn’t know the rules to the board game, Clue, and while the boyfriend and I were discussing the merits of moderate drinking, the boyfriend announced that two drinks were the ideal quantify--he thought. I asked for clarification: did he mean in the morning or evening? He meant two drinks per 24 hr period! For no particular reason, I was livening up a glass of OJ with tequila at the time. I poured a little extra booze to make it up to the gods of booze.

B-Day

For my entire life I’ve celebrated June 7th as my birthday (Happy birthday me!!!). However, recent primary source evidence has brought this fundamental belief into question. The Smoked Salmon and I were looking at some baby pictures with my parents to grab photos for a wall of baby pics/shame my soon-to-be mother in law is constructing for the wedding. My parents retrieved the old shoe box of pictures from the basement and the Smoked Salmon dug in (with me watching worriedly from the peripheries). The first shot was of a parent and a baby, no writing on the front, nothing on the back. I asked my father if this was a picture of me or my bro. He looked at it, unprepared for the scrutiny, and announced, “ehh… this is me holding you as a baby.” An odd conjecture given the only identity that was clear in the picture was that of my mother holding a baby. We moved to the next picture.

This picture showed a giant close up of a newborn’s wrinkled head (or possibly a very, very old person). The writing on the back of this picture says:

Bluefish Canoe, 2 days old 6/7/1978

So if I was 2 days old on June 7th, that would make my birthday June 5th, right? My parents hated this idea feeling in someway losing track of a child’s birthday might represent parental flakiness they had failed to cover-up. I loved it. Anything, that can bring any mystery into an otherwise totally ordinary existence, I welcome wholeheartedly.

After it all settled in a bit, my mother thanked the All Mighty that I wasn’t born on June 6. Thus she avoided having a child on 6-6-78, who on 6-6-06 would obviously proclaim his true identity as Satan. Again, I disagree. If and when Satan does decide to return to earth—if he is not already here—wouldn’t being the woman who brought him into the world be a pretty sweet gig compared to the rest of us dancing away on fire and brimstone? I know if I turn out to be Satan, I’ll go easier on dear old mom than I will on the rest of you swine. My mom admitted she was wrong, agreed with my reasoning, and went silent; I believe she began to mentally compose a list of enemies (mainly other Worcester Public school teachers) that she might use her new authority against as mother of the Dark One. My father’s cat rushed out of the room sensing she might be among the first to be smote.

Ninja Restaurant

I followed the good example of CC&P and went out to the Ninja Restaurant in Tribeca last night. (It was the 28^th anniversary of my hatching.) At the Ninja Restaurant there are no waiters or bus boys. Instead, ninjas bring out your food and clear your table. Ninja’s also surprise you when you’re going through the Ninja Cave on the way to your table, and ninjas dazzle you with card and coin tricks while you dine. I dressed as a ninja to fit in, but my black shirt and pants, paled in comparison to the real ninja’s headbands and extended wrist bands. Though I did bring my nunchucks.

What is this?

Do you speak French? Can you translate anything on this blog? I've got to know.

Europe, Cali can I feel yu?

So many things have happened over the last week. Firstly, I tore down my loft bed using a hammer, saw, and a screwdriver on the same day. Then I had a few beers. Then I began this blog.

Beyond that I went to a wedding in wine country, Sonoma, California. It seemed that the overriding goal of each winery was to create a drink that was distinct from that of their neighbor winery. Not an unreasonable strategy given the hundreds of wineries in this region, all on top of each other, all trying to scoop up excess LA, SF, and Silicon Valley dollars from the same groups of sun-buzzed and wine drunk yuppies on winery crawl (or rather drive of terror). To this end, I had a citrus(ie) wine that tasted like grapefruit juice and a sweet wine that tasted like a Hershey bar. All totally different, all totally gross. In this way, Californians reminded me of New Yorkers in their tendency towards overstatement and generally overdoing things. As a product of a rounded New England upbringing (schooling: private, public, parochial, painful in all ways), I know that a civilized childhood revolves around pummeling all egotism, self-esteem, confidence, and stability. If childhood doesn’t leave you with tendencies toward masochism and quivering try shoveling snow in April surrounded by people so insular they believe anyone who pronounces “r”s sounds English or “sump-tin.” (But the English don’t use hard “r”s you plead to deaf ears.) Try living near Gloucester MA, a town ruled by a man named Pugga and anyone who can grab a flag after traversing a pole covered in grease. Try talking to people who start all conversations “how’s you motha’,” only to somehow segue to reminiscing over their little league days while swilling 20 or so pitchers. (Note: picture and pitcher = same word). You want class warfare? In my town in Maine, a man once flung his own shit in a paper plate from his fishing boat to a yacht hitting the yachter squarely in his white polo shirt. The poop flinger is now a hero and his poop in a plate marksmanship: the stuff of legend. Enough said.

Several years in New York at Columbia and the Rockefeller University have sensitized me to europhilia so when I saw it without any sense of self-awareness in CA I went into a good old fashion quiver. At the winery people actually marched out to play botchy ball. I’ve never understood europhilia, which in fairness could be attributed to the upbringing mentioned above. But I like many Europeans. They are often very nice, reasonable people. I understand hating America. America pisses me off as much as it pisses off the next guy. But why would Americas get so into Europe? What deep seeded inferiority complex would drive suntanned, 6 foot 7 inch men to bowl without pins in a sandbox? Why not get into some other continent? The first meal I ever had in India was at the cultural equivalent of an Outback Steakhouse and it was the greatest thing I had ever tasted to that point. It beat anything I had in Paris like the Republican Party decimates my hopes. Honestly, I believe Hindu priests outlawed eating beef to prevent their followers from consuming until they exploded. If they had steaks in India, I would have never left that first restaurant much less the country. What else do people want? Historic towns? Go to the Middle East. Ancient culture? Go to China, India, or a local synagogue. You want good music? America. There I said it. American music is the best and America is good at something--music. Don’t tell my old boss I wrote that.