How To Have A Damn Near Perfect Day, Waltz Edition:

1. Sleep late (imperative for the Damn Near Perfect Day, or even the Perfect one.)

2. Good company (my friend Artemismad-Has a new blog! ).

3. Brunch at a country diner.

4. Wine tastings all afternoon in the Blue Ridge area.

5. Dinner at a microbrewery with excellent food and better beer.

6. DarWilliams concert in the evening.

I mean, really, it doesn't get much better than this. Springsteen would have to be involved for that. And probably sex. No, not at the same time, you filthy-minded perverts.

Man, tomorrow is going to suck.
 

Okay, I'm way-out-of-proportion pumped for the Avengers movie. Yes, I am a movie geek and a comic book geek, so this is like... one of the highlights of my life. As a proper geek, I already have my tickets and will be viewing the midnight show tonight.

In preparation for this blessed event, I've been neglecting my actual projects (work, writing, home maintenance, eating, showers) in favor of watching all the Avengers tie-in movies: Iron Man. Iron Man 2, Captain America, The Incredible Hulk, and Thor. (Silver is Engaged! , I'll be writing more once I've seen Avengers. Pinky promise.)

So I was watching Hulk last night and I commented on it to my friend PuppyTales , who proceeded to relate to me the Greatest Movie Synopsis Ever, which I don't feel right posting because it's not my work. I will if she gives me permission.

But it reminded me that the character of Emil Blonsky, the movie's biggest bad guy, was portrayed by Tim Roth, whose other notable role was a petty thief in Pulp Fiction.

In the Avengers tie-ins, one of the main characters is Nick Fury, portrayed by professional badass Samuel L. Jackson.

Fury does not appear in Hulk, though he's in the other tie-ins, and so I feel like Marvel missed out on a great opportunity here.

See, they could have had Fury and Blonsky meet in a diner, as he did with Tony Stark in IM2. Best, Fury has the Cosmic Cube with him. The Cosmic Cube is that thing in Captain America that the Red Skull opens a box and it glows in his face.

With me? Yes, they missed the opportunity to riff on the scene in Pulp Fiction between Jules and Ringo ("Pumpkin.")

I'd pay to see that.

I'd pay TRIPLE to see that.

And Marvel blew it.

There's a passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon you." Now... I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, that meant your ass. You'd be dead right now. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking: maybe it means you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here... he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. And I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Blonsky. I'm tryin' real hard... to be the shepherd.


In researching this blog post, I discovered that Pulp Fiction came out 18 years ago. There are people who can vote this year in the Presidential election who were not alive when that movie was made.

I'm going to go crawl into a bottle now and imagine how things would be different if Tarantino had directed the Avengers universe movies.


Edited to add:

With permission, Puppy's movie synopsis:

"The Incredible Hulk.

In which Tyler Durden's alter ego has stolen Aragorn's elf girlfriend, and must fight Pumpkin."
 

We're doomed.

We're alone in an uncaring, unfeeling universe.

Wait... let me back up and I'll explain how I came to this inevitable conclusion.

One of the blogs I follow is called English Russia. I want to visit Russia someday, so I find the stuff fascinating.

Usually, that is. Sometimes, though, you get something like this:

http://englishrussia.com/2012/04/16/hey-is-she-real/

I mean, go look at that. Really. It appears that this Russian chick has done... things... to her face and body that make her look like some kind of living Barbie.

There's a concept used in video game and animation design called the "uncanny valley." You've probably heard of it. If you haven't, here's the Wikipedia page:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncanny_valley

To summarize, if a robot or animation looks almost, but not quite, human, we react more negatively to them than if they look like, I don't know, R2D2 or something.

What we have in the Russia link above is, apparently, a human female who dips into the uncanny valley from the other end. Either that, or Russia is poised to take over the world with its army of fembots.

As I realized this, I remembered that Japan had made almost-realistic fembots, and so I made the grave error of Googling "Japanese fembot." Shut up; I had SafeSearch on. It wasn't hentai that made me realize we're doomed. What I did find makes hentai seem safe, even comforting, by comparison.

It was this: (safe for work if not sanity)

http://www.techfresh.net/lovely-actroid-der2-fembot/

Three things went through my mind within the first microsecond of looking at that link:

1) Holy shit, it looks more human than the Russian chick.
2) What? Sanrio did that? The same company who has unleashed the Nefarious Neko upon a helpless world?
3) Wait... that means that they can now create an army of Hello Kitties that will TAKE OVER THE WORLD.

Doomed.
 

Whilst out and about today, I happened to get hungry when I was near a sandwich shop I hadn't visited before, so I went in to check it out.

It's about 3 pm, so the place was, to quote Leonard Cohen, dead as Heaven on a Saturday night.

Took me a while to figure out what I wanted, but the tiny, cute, young woman behind the counter didn't seem to mind. It wasn't like there were customers behind me. Or anywhere in the deli, for that matter. I should have taken this as a sign, but I just figured it's mid-afternoon when normal people have already eaten lunch and aren't yet ready for dinner. (Me? I was ordering breakfast.)

So I settle on a roast beef croissant sammich, Doritos and a soda. Or "pop" if you're from the North or "Coke" if you're from the South. Anyway, she puts in my order and says, "Can I get your phone number?"

I blink.

"No," was my automatic response.

She laughs. I got the idea a lot of people refuse. I mean, it's a fucking sandwich shop. What are they going to do, call you and tell you if they discover botulism or salmonella? Hey, guess what, by the time you call me, I'll know.

The sammich, by the way, was soggy; the croissant was rubbery like it'd been microwaved; the Doritos were stale; and the drink was watered-down.

But of course, after I placed my order, I thought of several better things I should have said to the "Can I get your phone number" question:

1. "You're too young for me."

2. "You're too old for me."

3. "Can I get yours?"

4. "Can I get your clothes off?"

That's the advantage of writing, you know. You can take your time to come up with a sufficiently witty, snarky and/or inappropriate response to idiotic questions. In person, what do I do? Freeze up and say, "No."

Anyway, feel free to comment and tell me what I should have said.
 

It seems that tomorrow, March 21, is an important anniversary: the Diamond Jubilee of Rock 'n' Roll.

In 1952, the US was still recovering from WWII - it could be argued that we still are; it was arguably the last war we were in that made sense. Across the pond. Queen Elizabeth II began her reign in that year, the Today Show premiered on NBC (and also continues to this day), and the US ratified a peace treaty with Japan, who would morph like a mutated sea monster from one of our worst enemies to one of our closest allies and trading partners.

And on March 21, 1952, the first rock concert stormed Cleveland, Ohio.

Now, those who know Cleveland might be surprised to know that it gave birth to anything besides misery and suffering, but I hear baseball started there, too. Or does that reinforce the misery and suffering point?

Anyway, rock 'n' roll changed the world.

It doesn't get a lot of love, these days. Like all art forms, it's changed, metamorphosed, spun off numerous sub-genres, and is now unfortunately associated with aging boomers cranking up "classic rock" stations in their BMWs. It's hard to imagine that music as revolutionary, but at one time, it was, in the truest sense of the word.

Here, read this article:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-17440514

Sixty years ago, what music historians regard as the world's first rock concert was staged in Cleveland by two men whose passion for music bridged the racial divide in a segregated US.

Whites and blacks... in the same room? Getting along (mostly)? Horrors! Granted this was Cleveland, the North, not the more segregated South, but that just meant that racism in the North was less institutionalized, not that it didn't exist. While the US has a long ways to go with regard to race relations, we've also come a long way since 1952, and I think that rock 'n' roll played no small part in that.

Music - good music - changes things. That's why it's banned so often; that's why parents can never understand their offsprings' taste in tunes, or vice versa. The Establishment was afraid of rock 'n' roll - and the fear was justified.

"Turns out the place was sold out and they had closed the doors on them. And these people had tickets and were not happy.

"The doors had a glass centre panel and they ended up breaking them so they could get into the building."

Unfortunately, few revolutions are without riots. But as they say, you can't make an omelet without breaking some eggs.

Were the people there aware that they were revolting? I mean, in the sense of change, not like their unwashed successors 15-20 years later at the height of the hippie movement. I doubt it. They just heard music they liked and wanted to have a good time.

I've been studying and practicing guitar lately, and my quest for music inevitably led me to Pete Seeger. I'd heard of Pete before, of course, and the music that he wrote and/or popularized, but hadn't really delved into his life. Seeger predates rock 'n' roll - he's still alive and kicking, though. While his style is considered "folk," his music contributed to all the revolutions of the latter half of the 20th century. From his Wikipedia page:

As a song writer, he is best known as the author or co-author of "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?", "If I Had a Hammer (The Hammer Song)", (composed with Lee Hays of The Weavers), and "Turn, Turn, Turn!", which have been recorded by many artists both in and outside the folk revival movement and are still sung throughout the world. "Flowers" was a hit recording for The Kingston Trio (1962), Marlene Dietrich, who recorded it in English, German and French (1962), and Johnny Rivers (1965). "If I Had a Hammer" was a hit for Peter, Paul & Mary (1962) and Trini Lopez (1963), while The Byrds popularized "Turn, Turn, Turn!" in the mid-1960s, as did Judy Collins in 1964 and The Seekers. Seeger was one of the folksingers most responsible for popularizing the spiritual "We Shall Overcome" (also recorded by Joan Baez and many other singer-activists) that became the acknowledged anthem of the 1960s American Civil Rights Movement, soon after folk singer and activist Guy Carawan introduced it at the founding meeting of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) in 1960. In the PBS "American Masters" episode Pete Seeger: The Power of Song, Seeger states it was he who changed the lyric from the traditional "We will overcome" to the more inspirational "We shall overcome".

And in the 1950s, Seeger was hauled before the American Inquisition (the McCarthy hearings) and summarily blacklisted because of his pollitical leanings.

"Un-American Activities?" I'll tell you what's un-American. It's un-American to use the power of the government to limit peoples' freedom to sing, and to listen to, whatever they want. Or read, or write, and so forth.

Getting back to rock 'n' roll, though:

Less well known is the reason why the Moondog Coronation Ball ended in disaster: a minor printing error.

The mistake was caused by someone forgetting to add the date to tickets issued for a follow-up ball, which Mintz had set about organising immediately after the initial one sold out.

As a result, an estimated 20,000 people showed up on the same night for the first concert - at a venue which could hold half that number.

I think as we look back on history, the effect of accident can't be dismissed. How would things have been different if not for one little typo? Who can say, really? Without the notoriety of one night's near-riot, would rock 'n' roll have developed the counterculture reputation it sported? Could it have been a mere aberration, a blip, like 70s glam-pop or Elton John's Crocodile Rock?

It's possible. Music has power, yes, but writers take note: so do typos.
 

I came to a sudden realization of Ultimate Truth the other day.

Here's the background: I heard that Guinness World Records was going to vastly reduce the scope of its print edition, relying more on its online edition. While I can't find any confirmation of that, it doesn't really matter for the purposes of my point here. (Encyclopaedia Britannica, by the way, is totally doing that - eliminating its tree-murdering edition entirely so it can focus on its website and on fending off the attacks of its main competitor, Wikipedia).

I vaguely remembered being presented with a copy of what was then known as the Guinness Book of World Records as a kid, so I went on Wikipedia to get some background on the famous reference book (Britannica is a paysite, you see).

There, I discovered that (according to Wikipedia, anyway), GBWR, now known simply as Guinness World Records, got its start in the 1950s when some dude from the Guinness brewery in Ireland needed to settle a drunken pub argument about which bird was faster. No, it wasn't about African vs. European swallows. Realizing that people needed something to settle drunken bar arguments, he conceived of a book that would list superlatives in hundreds of categories: tallest, heaviest, shortest, fastest, most, whatever.

I guess if you couldn't find the answer to your drunken pub argument in GBWR, you could always hit your opponent over the head with a copy, thus settling the argument once and for all. This option is not available with the online edition, unless you want to pay $400 for a new iPad.

Anyway, over the years, it became disassociated from the actual Guinness brewery, though it retained the name. And while early versions had categories like "most beer consumed in an hour," such categories were expurgated from later versions, because the publisher might get sued when someone died of alcohol poisoning while trying to break that record.

So, to sum up, a book that had its origins in a drunken pub argument (including someone who worked at a brewery) can, for legal reasons, no longer contain a "drinking" category.

Resulting epiphany: Life is cocked-up on a very fundamental level.
 

I can attest, for I was there, that Davy Kraken and Elisa, Stik 15K were married today, in a short ceremony (followed by an interminable photography session, and then by a fun air-conditioned reception) in Florida.

I want to thank Davy Kraken for honoring me with the position of Best Man, and apologize for losing the rings. Just kidding; I had the rings all along.

In my toast, I pointed out that there have been many horror stories of people meeting online and trying to form relationships, and that one such horror story began today.

Fortunately, both parties know me well enough that they appreciated the joke. Or, well, I hope so anyway. I was reluctant to ask, especially after "toasting" them with two pieces of actual toast I kifed from my hotel's breakfast bar. After all, everyone was expecting a pun, and who am I to disappoint?

Seriously, though, in a time when there seems to be nothing but one piece of bad news after another, it's good to participate in these moments of unedited happiness, when friends and family gather for the best of reasons.

So here's to the newlyweds: live long, and prosper.
 

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-31749_162-20072319-10391698.html

Clarence Clemons, Bruce Springsteen's longtime saxophone player and a legend in the music industry, died Saturday from complications following a stroke he suffered about a week ago...

Always one of the best parts about seeing Bruce on stage, Clarence was always the large, benevolent presence, an anchor for the rest of the band.

I don't know if the E Street Band can continue after a loss like this, but I consider myself very fortunate to have seen him play several times.

The world is much less in tune tonight.
 

It's rare that I get to make an entry that reflects the literal title of this blog. In fact, I don't think it's ever happened before.

But now:

Yes, yes, I know it's been over a month. Sorry.

Went to Texas (Waltz World Tour, baby!) Had a great time. Finally met MaryLou and Acme in person. Saw Houston Space Center, which I'd been wishing to do for some time, now. Attended a fun wedding. Drank good beer. Ate a genuine Texas steak. Decided that you can't see America from an interstate, and made plans to a) road trip more and b) fly to England in May.

Anyway, that's not what finally got me off my butt to post, though that was pretty awesome. So's this:

http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2011/03/a_quintessence_of_dust.html

What we are left with are the cosmic shadows on the wall of Plato's cave. Ultimately the images from Hubble will give us a glimpse of conditions that existed an infinitesimal instant after the Big Bang. There will never be an image of the Big Bang itself, because it had no image. There was Nothing, and then there was Something, and all we can hope is to see that Something as soon as possible after it became.

Roger Ebert now officially rocks.
 

In case any of you were beginning to doubt the inevitable rise of the dead:

http://www.aolnews.com/2011/02/21/pat-the-bunny-gets-zombie-makeover/

"Pat the Zombie" is a sinister zombie parody of the beloved 1940 touch-and-feel children's classic, "Pat the Bunny." Authors Aaron Ximm and Kaveh Soofi say it's a perfect read for dry-humored parents who are burnt out on the original.

However, I think that the authors missed a vital opportunity by trying to keep this masterpiece from their offspring. They'll need to learn... sometime. One way or another.
 

It's sixty degrees out, my favorite bar has an Imperial stout, and my favorite bartender (Meredith) is back.

See? It doesn't take much to make me feel better.


(To clarify: Meredith left in November for a four-month work/study thing in Europe. It turned into a three-month work/study thing, hence my pleasant surprise at having her back. And no, I don't have a "thing" for her; she's just a really good bartender.)
 

Say what you want about being single, but I'm going to say this:

Having nothing to be pressured into doing on Valentine's Day (VD) is a major, major relief.

The crap I said in last week's Comedy newsletter aside, sometimes I think VD was invented by some misandrist woman who is probably chuckling in her grave over the crap we XYs have to go through on VD.

It's like this: I've never, not even once, been involved with a woman who appreciated VD. And contrary to popular belief, I've dated a few women.

And yet, almost every year, one of two things happens:

Either 1) I do the roses, chocolate, and dinner out thing, or 2) I get broken up with just before my birthday, which is four days from now.

Look... girls... it's like this: If you're into VD, just frakking SAY SO. Don't pretend you're not just to see whether we're committed enough to do something ANYway, because men are a lot simpler than that. "Don't get me anything for VD" means, to us, "Don't get me anything for VD." End of line.

If you ARE into it, that's cool. I can do the flowers thing. I'd rather make you a nice home-cooked meal, but even there you won't be going out while some of your friends certainly will, so there's a dilemma too: Do something from my heart, based on a skill I actually have (cooking) or do something to conform with your friends so you can talk to them about it the next day. And going out always involves overpriced, lousy food and crappy service, when we could just as easily go out on another night and have a great time.

The whole thing sucks, for us. Sucks. And don't give me the "You'll get yours on Steak and Blowjob Day (March 14)," either, because I don't want anything for S&BJD (or wait - yes, I do; I'm just not going to TELL you and let you figure it out for yourself when I'm lying on the couch pointing at it with a big grin on my face).

I know it sounds like I'm ragging on women, here, and I'm sorry if it seems that way. It's not my intent. It's only Valentine's Day that's the target of my angst this night. I guess VD brings out the worst in all of us.

So, yeah. Glad I've got no pressure, for once, this year. I'm just going to go over to my friend Nicole's house; she's ordered some takeout and we're going to watch some anime with her kid.

Wait... Oh, shit... am I supposed to bring chocolate?
 

This restores a teeny, tiny bit of my hope for the future of humanity:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQRMvg5TAl8&sns=fb
 

Mubarak: (paraphrased) "I'd love to step down now, but Egypt would descend into chaos."

...Ummmm....



(Funniest joke I've seen related to the conditions in Egypt right now:

"Egyptians:

Do not harm the pyramids in your protests. We will not rebuild.

-The Jews")


((Yes, I know the Hebrews didn't work on the pyramids. It's still funny.))


(((Yes, I know the Hebrews probably never actually were slaves in Egypt. I don't care. It's STILL funny.)))
 

Greetings from sunny Virginia, where it's a balmy 60 degrees. My snow shovel hangs lonely in a dusty corner of my storage room, and my car is remarkably free of solid-phase water of any sort. Today I took a stroll in shorts and a t-shirt and sandals.

I'm enjoying the Blizzard of 2011; how about you?
 

Came back yesterday but didn't feel much like blogging.

I'm reminded why New York City is a good place to visit, but not to live: there was two feet of snow on the ground, and that's not in the places where plows piled it up, usually on top of people's cars. Oh, it's fine in the summer, but NYC winters are freaking miserable.

And they're going to get more snow from all the global warming

Just received word that my aunt died this morning.

Not really unexpected - she was close to 90 and just basically died of old age.

But she was someone I was close to all my life, my mom's sister, who took me to Europe and Israel when I was eight, taught me how to use a computer shortly thereafter, and gave me my first summer internship... sort of.

She was a businesswoman in a world where women were supposed to be housewives or secretaries; a childfree single woman in a world where women were expected to have kids, not jobs, for fulfillment; an educator and a strong role model for both men and women. A feminist before feminism was cool.

She was a true New Yorker, having lived in the city all her life. Yet, she had the good fortune to travel around the world. She was witty, vibrant, and never took shit from anyone without giving it back tenfold.

She ran her own business school for many years, which I'm sure improved the lives of many people. The world is truly a little bit better for her having been in it.

So, soon, I'll be heading up to New York, where she'll be buried out on Long Island, not too far from her longtime home in Queens.

So long, Aunt Adele. Of all the people in the world that I miss, you're at the top of the list.
 

Most of us will never hit it big in music (unless your name is Michelle), but now we can come pretty close:

Generate your own album cover.

http://blog.mflow.com/make-your-bands-album-cover-how-t/

Some of the results are uncannily authentic.

Like this one:

http://flo.mu/gv7NQ2

And this one:

http://flo.mu/h2vWUB

And especially this one:

http://flo.mu/hlfyCx

Seriously. I could see them in stores. If, you know, there were still stores that sold albums. Or even CDs.
 

...of how awesome I am.

I feed one cat outside and the other one inside, else the first cat, Ghost, would eat all of Kali's food after he was done with his. Kali's a slow eater.

I always put Ghost's food in the same place: on the deck, between the recycling bin and the cinderblock. (I keep a cinderblock on the deck in case I have something out there I need to keep from blowing away, or keep the raccoons out of... oh, hell, no, I have no idea where it came from and no good way to dispose of it so it sits there.)

So today I dumped Ghost's food into his plate, and, as usual, he comes running out of nowhere once he hears the can open. I think it's a genetic thing with cats; they're hard-wired to appear when a can opens.

I dump the food in his plate, and he runs around the deck looking for it.

"Ghost. It's over here."

"Where?"

"Here. HERE. Where it always is."

"Where?"

So I pick him up and put him at the plate, and he starts scarfing the disgusting cat food.

I come back in, where my roommate has heard the entire exchange, and I say:

"Not the sharpest claw on the scratching post, that one."

He looks at me.

"You're just way too proud of yourself for saying that."

"Even more proud that I just made it up."

That's how awesome I am.