A Couple Birthday Lists

Apparently I have a birthday coming up on Saturday so in preparation for the big day I have composed a list of things I wish/not wish to happen on the anniversary of my birth. 

Things I wish to happen on my birthday:

The aging process stops for me in a way that is not related to my immediate death.  In short, I become the happy go-lucky Dorian Grey and outlive everybody until the sun explodes or Manhattan floods due to global warming.

Me and my merry band of well-wishers somehow travel back in time, place bets on every major sporting event and clean the fuck up.

I somehow meet Bob Dylan and he invites me and my merry band of well-wishers out for a night on the town that culminates in a sneak preview of his new album and a happy parting of the ways with an invitation to hang out whenever he is in town.

I somehow meet Woody Allen who says he enjoys my writings and subsequently asks if I would like to be involved with his next picture.  He then says he has decided to do a couple of stand-up shows and invites me to a test run of his new material. 

I do not get intense food poisoning from the very large and most likely rich meal I have on my birthday.

The night for me and my well-wishers ends with a fulfillment of the famous prophesy made by Rodney Dangerfield at the end of Caddyshack:

Also there should be a chorus of nananana’s serenating us throughout the evening.

Me and my merry band of well-wishers are all dressed with top hats and canes and perform a flawless rendition of “Puttin’ on the Ritz”.  One can dream.

Things I don’t want to happen on my Birthday:

Murder most foul.

Murder most unfoul.

Murder in general.

I somehow meet my idols (the people in points 3 and 4 on the positive list) and I get into a Larry David-esque misunderstanding/blow up with them that haunts me until the day I die.

A sincere utterance of the phrase “Obamacare and the government” coupled with a firm “wake up sheeple”.  Not on my watch.

 Somebody wears sweatpants.  So help me God if I see that foul piece of clothing I will be engaging in bullet points 2 and 3 from Things I don’t want to happen on my Birthday.

Jesus decides to return to Earth and commence with the judging.  Of all days to start the end of the world and shatter my system of beliefs (or non-belief) you choose today?  Way to plan it oh king of kings.

The Yankees lose to the Red Sox.  We really need to sweep these bums from Boston to stay in the hunt and plus they just traded all their pitching!  Let’s sweep the series fellas.  If you’re not gonna do it for me, well then do it for the Captain.  Jeet can’t go out without a last chance at October glory.

That guy decides to make an appearance.  Yeah, that guy.  

An old Rite

Literature.  Books.  Novels.  That with no pictures and turns of phrases that would confuse a lesser man.  Is there anything nobler than picking up a worn out paperback book and just throwing it into a heaping blaze of fire because you don’t agree with its contents and ideas?  I’d like to think there isn’t.  Burning a book is a rite of human expression that leads to the even older rite of seamlessly transitioning into a brutal dictatorship.  It’s almost uncanny how each act leads into another so perfectly.  With the advent of technology, books made of paper and firmer papers are becoming a thing of the past.  What will we burn now to signify that we are tired of acting like fully formed adults?  Setting a kindle or Ipad or whatever on fire doesn’t have the same je ne sais quoi, not to mention all the baby photos of young Jeffrey that have not been backed up.  If you burn the technology you lose young Jeffrey’s first steps and we haven’t the time to remember what those look like.  Also an electronic book reader makes the book burning process less personal and so much colder.  With an old fashioned book burning, you don’t pick the book, the book picks you.  It lays on the bookshelf with an author’s name that threatens your shitty way of life.  Look at it, sitting there, prancing around with its well thought out ideas and complex themes, mocking your lame way of life.  The book is calling out to you in that Dirty Harry way.  So pick it up and bring it to the bonfire with the rest of the freaks and let history take its course.  A fond memory this will be indeed when your family is starving and half-dead under the new regime.  But at least you got to burn that book so I guess it all evens out.

 

This majestic dance of hatred will be lost with the advent of the electronic book reader.  One crazy burning a thousand works of art?  Sounds like deviant behavior to me buddy.  Why don’t you take a stroll over to the nice man in the full leather outfit and the shiny boots?  He’ll help you out.  Such sacred acts of hate are being lost, but fear not because when there is a will to destroy intellect and great ideas there is a way.  I’m pretty positive that we’ll have new and better ways to get rid of that which we deem subversive and troublesome.  Never doubt the human race’s capability for unwarranted and senseless destruction.  As a side note, don’t doubt the human race’s capability for warranted and sensible destruction, or buddy will you have some egg on your face.  So fret not, our traditions of hate and intolerance will never cease, they will merely evolve as the times change.  Well that’s all for me at the moment as I have a date with a nice hardcover that proposes a guide to destroying our most sacred of holidays through a most foul grinchitude and I shan’t be late or I’ll be arrested.  Tough but fair.          

The New Watson

What makes a Ramblings with some Thoughts: The Collected Works of Jason Thompson blog a true Ramblings with some Thoughts: The Collected Works of Jason Thompson blog?  It can’t be who writes said blog post because all of my works are ghost written by various passing dignitaries on their way to esteemed literary conferences.  The fact that they have been written in a similar style while using similar phrases and references is a testament to their skills as accomplished writers.  It also doesn’t hurt that they all share my love of Bob Dylan and my love of receiving credit for their hard work.  So fair reader, the scribe behind a blog post means very little in terms of making an authentic ramblings with thought post (I have got to shorten that title).  A good guess yes, but ultimately wrong.

To end this rather tedious guessing game the answer to what makes a Jason Thompson blog a true Jason Thompson blog is where it is written.  Actually that’s not entirely accurate.  Usually these blogs are written in the same area of my home at four in the morning whilst watching reruns of a show I’ve probably seen a million times (as you can see that first paragraph was a lie.  It’s my problem and I’ll deal with it.  I swear).  What is meant by the word "location" is what platform I have taken to putting down my various ramblings and thoughts (he used the blog’s title in the piece!  How exciting).  For the last 130 something odd blogs I have used my trusty old dell laptop.  With that piece of shoddy hardware I’ve ascribed pieces that range from sublime beauty to sublime vulgarity to sublime mediocrity.  Together me and that laptop have made lists, essays, short pieces, and re-purposed scholarly essays.  But for a short while this sacred bond will be broken.  The Watson to my Sherlock Holmes is in the shop for a bit, akin to what Sherlock Holmes would do to Watson when he needed his battery replaced or when his screen was cracked (I’m referring to Sherlock Holmes in the 22^nd century).  For now I’ve moved on to a new computer.

Today is my first blog with this new computer, a replacement Watson for my ever steady Sherlock Holmes.  How my relationship with this instrument will transpire is still unknown but I am confident in our ability to put any past problems behind us and work together to score me some page views.  This set up is only temporary and hopefully my old friend will come back better and stronger or at least get me a nice upgrade.  Regardless, I have entered a new era with this blog and we’ll see how it goes.  Is this the beginning of the end?  I’d say no but you can never be too sure.  Things have been known to happen.       

Things I don’t understand about Tinder

Things I don’t understand about Tinder

1)      Mentions of dead relatives.  I have come across some people’s bios that have a tagline of RIP followed by a family member or friend’s name and date of death.  Some bio taglines have multiple dead people in them.  Why would you put this as your bio on a website designed to get people laid?  Death, to me, is the ultimate anti-aphrodisiac and brings upon death freak-out mode Jason which occurs anytime I contemplate my greatest fear.  I do not want to be reminded of my mortality while perusing a casual sex app.  I simply do not understand the point of having your bio be occupied by a shout out to the recently deceased.  This is the one place to say something interesting about yourself that a few pictures cannot convey and you choose to squander this opportunity by making me feel kind of sad for you.  It’s not like I knew the person you weep for on your Tinder bio.  I at most will feel a general sadness for you and then swipe right because it is silly to limit my options.

2)      Prostitutes.  Why would I pay for sex on an app designed to get me free sex?  If I want to hire a prostitute I can use the more conventional means of Craigslist, Backpage, or the corner of 28^th street and 11^th avenue.  I would never hire a prostitute from Tinder but I suppose the point is moot because they never respond to my messages anyway…

3)      People that mock Tinder.  Yes meeting people from Tinder is unconventional and is online dating lite, but is it really that strange?  I know plenty of people who have formed relationships from Tinder matches and they seem to be doing just fine.  As mentioned earlier, Tinder is at most online dating lite.  I view Tinder as an app for people interested in casual relationships as opposed to OKCupid which is like match.com but for young people (match.com is for those trying to get married or at least be in an annoying commercial).  But people will still mock Tinder because it is a cheap form of online dating and we as a society still think that is lame.  I get that for sure and still agree with that sentiment but to me it is not that different from going up to a stranger in a bar or “adult social gathering” and attempting to sleaze into someone’s pants.  At least with Tinder there is the appearance of the mutual opt in and the ability to go in with some prior knowledge about the person (shared Facebook likes huzzah!).  In both options (bar or Tinder) you throw out or respond to a line and wait to see what happens.  At least with Tinder, if you fail you don’t have to live with the soul crushing pain of watching someone succeed where you horribly faltered or the other soul crushing pain of having to move venues because you really fucked up.  Now this is not saying anything against bars, other than the fact that they mostly suck.   I’m just putting it out there (in my best super villain voice) that we’re not so different you and I (you of course being bars/clubs and I being tinder.  The super villain voice is up to you but if you must know I choose to perform the line in the style of the Phantom Limb from the Venture Bros.).

4)      Picky people.  Just swipe yes to everybody; you have nothing to lose and in the process you maximize your chances.  It’s science people!  I will also note that it is entirely possible to un-match with a person and boom no harm done.  A potential crisis easily averted.

5)      Complaining that Tinder is shallow.  Yes it is shallow, but frankly when are we not shallow as a people?  I find myself judging people’s attractiveness all the time on the street and I’m almost positive they are doing the same to me based on the looks I get in passing. Park benches were invented for the sole purpose of judging others in either a catty or witty way.  Returning to using my example of meeting people in an “adult situations”, we normally approach someone at a bar/club/social setting based on if we are physically attracted to them.  Typically, we don’t approach people we are not attracted to unless we are trying to win an evil and morally bankrupted bet with a friend or trying to prove a point about how not shallow we are.  Sure the person may have done something that piqued your interest like discussed how their favorite musician is Bob Dylan, but usually it’s because you think the person in question is easy on the eyes.  Tinder is just an online extension of our shallowness.

6)      Myself.  Why am I on this app?  I live in a city of 8 million people but use a sleazy app in an attempt to get laid or find a fleeting moment of personal happiness that comes with an attractive match or successful person to person meeting.  What is my soul becoming?  Does it rot that much more on ever successive swipe and on every sent message?  Is my portrait becoming more unbearable in that attic?  Is my flower wilting at a pace that not even Belle can stop?  I stare into my mirror and see only a shadow of a reflection what was once the beginnings of a well-rounded young man.  It used to be different, much different before the endless swiping and constant judging.  Will those times ever return?  Will the man in the mirror ever look back at me favorably?  Will I ever escape these doldrums of…ooh wait a minute, a new match.  A sexy new match.  Only 3 miles away and likes the Warriors, ooh that’s exciting!  Time to hit her with a “CAN YOU DIG IT”.

Fucking Your Clone/Gender Inverse: The Big Issues

If you had a clone of yourself what would you do sexually with it?  This is a question I wrestle with on occasion and will openly seek the wisdom of others on.  Just imagine looking at a perfect clone of yourself.  You’re telling me you wouldn’t be curious to see what it’s like to at least see how you kiss?  Don’t lie to me or shy away we’re all curious.  My big question would be whether sex with your perfect clone would be incest or just plain masturbation?  Is fucking your clone an act of disgusting incest?  I like to lean more to it being masturbation because I view it as the ultimate embodiment of fucking yourself and that helps to make this discussion a bit less creepy.  I would also venture to ask if fucking your clone is the greatest example of narcissism.  For this I have no answers and would love to hear what you, my faithful readers, would say about this matter.  In fact a post like this was made for comments.  But my answer for the question at hand is that it would be narcissist but not the greatest example of it.  I guess it depends on the way you approach the clone fucking.  If you are doing it out of sheer curiosity than I wouldn’t put it down as the greatest form of narcissism and would rather register it as let’s say a sociological experiment.  On the other hand, if you look at the opportunity to fuck your clone as the only way you’ll get to experience the joy of fucking the perfect specimen, yourself, then you may just be an extreme narcissist or be next in line for a job with the title of “fearless leader”.

Now that the ethics are out of the way, I’d like to move on to the actual sexual acts.  I think I could at most kiss my clone for the reasoning of seeing if I am a decent enough kisser (this will settle my internal debate once and for all) or like my style of locking lips.  So you see I’m not using my clone out of intense vanity but out of a desire to improve my place upon human society.  I’m seeking to better myself amongst my peers.  In a way, I’m donating my body for science.  In terms of actual sex I don’t think I could go through with it because it still is having sex with man and that’s not my thing (not that there’s anything wrong with it).  I also imagine I wouldn’t really know where to start but then again I am pleasing myself, something I’ve always excelled at in the past.   Plus at this point in my sexual game I should know in the general ballpark of what I like and don’t like.  I guess I could coach myself to myself.  If I were to go through with such a sexual experiment an interesting side note would be to see how I look while engaging in those moments of carnal pleasure.  I’ll venture and say it’s not pretty but a confirmation on that would be nice.  Usually during the course of the intimate times my mind starts to wander in order to keep myself from being that known as the quick guy.  This would be the best chance to see if my counting off the Yankee pennant years (Mets fans can’t use this option – zing) face is too obvious and needs to be changed.  I would be forever indebted to myself.

Moving on, I’ve also wondered what the female inverse of me would look like.  What would a Jason Thompson look like as a full formed woman and not just my male body but with less body hair, tits, and a vagina?  I’m talking about a full Tiresias transformation.  I have no clue as to what I would look like, but regardless of the look, I’d have fully on nasty sex with that person.  Call me vain or a narcissist if you must but I would not pass up the opportunity to fuck the female Jason Thompson.  Again, don’t give me that look!  You would as well it’s just too fascinating to pass up well (I’m referring to fucking your gender inverse not necessarily my specific gender inverse.  But if you were wanting to fuck my gender inverse I know both me and my inverse are flattered and blushing at the moment).  I’d think that we would be in perfect sexual sync or at the bare minimum not be terrible together.  Again send me your comments, thoughts, and hate mail in the comments box below.  This sort of thing was written for discussion!

So I pose the question to my faithful readers.  What would you do sexually with a perfect clone of yourself or your gendered inverse?  I’m not here to judge (unless of course it’s fucking weird you little freak) but to learn about how others answer a few questions I am fascinated by.  So happy thinking!

No I've Never Heard that Before!

No I’ve never heard that before.  Never in my 22 years of life have I heard that I look like that famous fictional wizard before.  Yep, you are the first one to tell me that I indeed look like Harry Potter.  Crazy am I right?  You are the first person in my own private history to say that I resemble the title character of 7 books and 8 box office topping movies that spanned around a decade.  May I also add that you are very clever for being the first person to put two and two together.  Here I am walking around with my greasy messy dark brown hair, round framed glasses, scrawny physique, and lightning shaped scar and yet nobody has gone out of their way to interrupt me and mention our casual resemblance.  Bravo good sir for disrupting me and this lovely girl’s conversation to make it known to everyone that I do resemble the slayer of Voldemort and husband of Ginny Weasley.  I want to also congratulate you for causing the said girl to leave my presence and join in the laughter at your keen discovery.  So again I say bravo.

And no I don’t have a lightning shaped scar on my head.  Yep you were really the first if that means you will stop talking and shouting at people to look at me.  Jeez, to steal a Woody Allen line “I’m surrounded by a guy named Cheech”.   Oh look another person, great!  Oh hi, yes I do look like Harry Potter how funny right.  Yes, yes, yes expecto patronum ha ha ha very funny.  Kudos to you for being able to read at a fourth grade level and no I’ve never heard that comparison before.  Yep, you’re the first one, and no I don’t know why he didn’t marry Hermoine.  Again I only resemble said famous fiction wizard, but I totally get you on that one.  Who wouldn’t want to be with the cleverest witch of our age?  Hermoine is where it’s at. 

So um yeah, I’m going to go now or at least find a pair of scissors to at least update my look to Harry Potter 6.  Ha ha you with the jokes, again.   So funny!  So very funny.  Well it’s been, whatever I’ll catch you later.  Wait what?  John Lennon?  Noooo, I’ve never heard that one before either.  I swear you’re the first one… 

Oh the Dread!

Oh existential dread why do you gnaw at me now?  Why have you decided to use this particular moment in this particular time in this particular world to invade my consciousness?  Why has my chest caved in and my sight grown strained? Oh I look up to thee and scream why in a rather silent but longing look.  Is it because I saw the new Planet of the Apes movie and saw what I deemed to be a pretty realistic view of what would go down if the apes on this planet took the next step?  Well while I did in fact see the film (and highly recommend it); it isn’t that work of engrossing fiction that has caused my body and mind to go into a state of rapid freeze.  Oh the pain, the pain of it all!  What is the cause of such dread, such feelings of feelings?  I venture to think it is the new anthem for Brooklyn written by a longtime resident of Virginia Beach which trades off more clichés of Brooklyn than you can shake an L train at.  But no, that only fills me with a mix of both Manhattan pride and sorrow for the proud borough to the east.  May you cast off your shackles and ride again proud borough. 

What is it then?  What is it that causes the woe that enjoys staying in the background to suddenly pounce and shorten my breath?  Could it be the realization of a project that has long seemed in flux and used by me to scare off the job vultures?  I won’t say it is, but then again it probably is.  What happens when something starts to pull together rapidly and forces you to finally get into game shape?  For most people I assume they hit the challenge running rather than observe the various body parts starting to go numb as the anticipation creeps forward until the moment has arrived.  Oh the inevitable passage of time, take me to the moment so my fears can be realized and I step face first into the process.  The process is beginning in earnest and I guess I must be ready.  Yes, yes that is the spirit and encouragement I need.  I guess I must be ready or I mess up for everybody.  Nothing like self-motivation to get the old confidence ball up and rolling.  Oh the gnawing, oh the emptiness of it all!  When will it cease (for at least a brief moment) and let me live in my world of contentment that I attempt to fight.  The gnawing is good for that reason I suppose.  A great gnawing of existential dread keeps the contentment away and this is no time for contentment.  Not yet at least.  Moments like these are for moving up and keeping with my goal of continual peeking.  Time to embrace the moment and don’t look back as a famous movie proclaimed.  Might as well…

What's in a Name?

I have no problem with my name and would never change it if the opportunity arose.  In fact, I rather like it.  Jason Thompson.  The name is direct and straight to the point without being muddied up by a gratuitous middle name.  Jason derives from the Greek hero Jason, who led the mighty Argonauts on their quest to find the Golden Fleece.  He was a mighty and great hero until you read the epilogue.  Then the proceedings take a turn for the very sad.  Thompson is of the Scottish and English origin and means son of Thom.  I am led to assume that somewhere back in the day I had a relative named Thom who didn’t care much for original names or lived in a rather lazy village.  Now that you’ve sat through my rather indulgent history lesson that is relevant to 3,214 people (according to white pages names), we shall move on to the crux of this piece.  While I, Jason Thompson, have no problem with my name (and rather quite like it), I don’t particularly like when people call me by it.

While this may seem like a major problem worthy of intense psychoanalytic probing or at the very least a Congressional hearing, this odd occurrence has not started to bother me until recently.  I noticed that when somebody used my name casually and not out of necessity, it rather annoyed me or made me feel weird.  Now when I say not out of necessity, I mean instances where my name is understood.  If we are having a conversation and the person who is not me substitutes Jason for you, man, or adds it superfluously, I begin to feel uneasy.  An easy example would be somebody saying “I have no idea what you’re talking about Jason” rather than simply saying “I have no idea what you’re talking about”.  Why add on the Jason in a two person conversation?  I have a clear picture of whose words you fail to comprehend at the moment.  A situation like that makes me feel uneasy and brings me out of the stupor I enter when I’m not the one driving a conversation.  Why say my name when it is not necessary?  What is this person trying to prove and how can I maneuver their next comment into witty banter that will lead to them sleeping with me?

I may not have the answers to any of these questions but I have begun to decipher some reasons to my own unease with hearing my name.  First off, I rarely do what I am rallying against in this particular case.  This is one of the few aspects of my personal life where I live up to the impossibly high standard I set.  I will only superfluously say somebodies name to drive home a witty point or in my quest to maintain an ironic disposition at all times.  If I break perfect irony I will have committed the ultimate sin of being sincere and that is a crime against nature.  Another reason may be to preserve the aura around a name.  Using a name when unnecessary wears it down and takes away the power of when the name is actually said.  The fewer times I use somebody’s ever special name, the more power and weight it has when I do use it.  If I’m just throwing out people’s names when not necessary, the name loses all meaning.  We might as well just live in a world of all pronouns.

There are probably more reasons to my name-phobic ways but I really don’t care to get into them.  Sure they may be interesting but whatever you’ll just have to keep guessing.  I have no doubt that many of you reading this piece have grown tired of nodding your head in agreement so ending this prematurely is being done for your own good or whatever.  So don’t call me by name if it is not necessary.  It’s kind of annoying.  

Sports Wrap Up

Sports Wrap Up

Lebron James should have not signed a deal to play for the Cavaliers.  Instead, he should have bought the Cavaliers and made himself Owner, President, GM, Coach, and star player of the Cavaliers.  There is no need to reward that comic sans asshole Dan Gilbert with the best player in the world after his extended hissy fit. 

Anybody who burned a Lebron James jersey cannot buy a new one.  They have to wear their tattered up jerseys to all Cavalier games they attend. 

Germany and Argentina face each other in the World Cup final today.  Aside from the actual loser of the game, there will be two other major losers.  The first is Brazil and not just because of the economic damage this World Cup has done to the people of this great nation.  Having to watch Argentina, their longtime rival, face the team that gave them their most lopsided loss in history is akin to watching the Red Sox crush the Yankees in the ALCS and then face the Mets in the World Series (shudder).  The other loser in this World Cup final is the Jews.  When Jews hear the countries of Germany and Argentina used together in a sentence, the name Eichmann is always quick to follow.  If you are not catching my drift, have you noticed that the Germans and Argentinians have a lot of uncanny similarities between them?  I’m not necessarily talking in terms of game style, but rather in terms of physical looks, last names, and ways of celebrating/saluting.  A little too similar am I right?  Hmm, it’s as if these two countries had some sort of agreement or understanding back in the day.  In short, the Jews lose again.

The Knicks are having a good offseason so far.  They traded Tyson Chandler, got a draft steal, resigned Carmelo Anthony, and seen the Nets regress like crazy.  Phil Jackson, will the honeymoon phase ever end?

This NBA offseason has been such a crazy one that deals like Paul Pierce to the Wizards and Pau Gasol to the Bulls has flown under the radar.  The East is wide open for the honor of losing to Lebron in the Eastern Conference Finals. 

Sports fact, sports opinion, set up, snarky joke about sports fact and sports opinion. 

What would we do without sports?  We’d only have the distractions of music, art, fashion, movies, and theater to distract us from real life.  I shudder to think of that world.

The Rants of a Proud Lifelong Manhattanite

It seems to be that the ultimate compliment to bestow on a native New Yorker is that they are from Brooklyn.  Lately Brooklyn has become the epicenter of what I like to call edgy-funky-cool town, while Manhattan has become hack central.  Believe me I’m not blind to the cries of Manhattan becoming a center for hacks as the claim as plenty of credibility.  Beginning with the reign of Giuliani and intensifying into the Bloomberg years, Manhattan has become a haven for non-native New Yorkers.  Downtown Manhattan is populated by arrogant NYU kids who think they own the city (when in reality it’s their wealthy parents), while uptown nearly an extension of Colombia University.  Manhattan has sold out, but it’s been selling out for years I suppose.  Bloomberg ensured that Manhattan would only be for the rich and elite and did his best to make sure the Rolling Stones song “Shattered” was deemed irrelevant.  When I tell people I hail from Manhattan I have to quickly dispense with the I’m not rich (but I would really like to be) and the other worn out chestnut of I don’t know what it was like to grow up in Manhattan, I just did and it was more exciting than growing up in whatever lame suburban town you hail from.  Manhattan ain’t what it used to be and the only perk to that is that my biggest fear about walking around at night is the more than likely chance I’ll run into a gang of rats (I also have a fear of being killed, but rats are really gross).

Brooklyn has been hailed as the epicenter of New York cool, but is it really?  What is so cool about Brooklyn other than people telling you that it’s so cool?  Brooklyn has the benefit of being a hell of a lot cheaper than Manhattan and is also not that hard to get around in (Manhattan is still the king of transporting ease).  There is also the added benefit of “authenticity” and “real New Yorkerness” that Manhattan can lack, notably in the midtown – Times Square area.  Brooklyn has the advantage of not being Queens, so there’s that.  But Brooklyn is changing and it’s turning into the New Manhattan.  It’s becoming less for Brooklynites and more for rich out of towners like the certain borough these said Brooklynites love to hate.  But what are you gonna do?  These types of gentrification and population shifts have been happening in New York for years and years.  It’s inevitable in my view.  In a few years the current residents will be complaining about how their neighborhood is changing and will not pick up on the hilarious irony. 

As a lifelong resident of Manhattan it’s always an exciting moment when I meet another lifelong Manhattanite.  In those fleeting moments of borough bonding we discuss our disappointment of what’s happening to our fair borough and make sure to mock the Long Island kids arriving to Penn Station for a night in the city (the perks of being a snobby city kid).  Manhattan still reigns supreme in terms of New York City boroughs because of the frantic kinetic energy.  The place is always alive and jumping and holds little reminders that people actually live here.  Brooklyn has areas that could pass for a suburb and that will always hold it below Manhattan.  This borough is pure city with nothing tragically suburban about it no matter how hard these out of towners try to add their own homely touches to it.  As far as I’m concerned, Manhattan is still where it’s at.  Brooklyn is nice, but in all honesty it can shove it.  Lifelong Manhattan residents I salute you.        

Ramblings about the Hunger Games

Why does the Hunger Games need to have a love triangle?  You’d think that attempting to survive a free for all kill-a-thon would have enough action and suspense to properly sustain a young adult novel but no, the main character needs to pick between two gentlemen suitors.  It seems so pointless to me.  The central plot of having teenagers kill each other for the amusement of adults is a horror story that needs no sappy love serial.  Rarely in media do we get to see children killed ( and by children no less) and it’s not done for a very good reason.  Seeing a child cut down before their prime is fucking depressing.  It never fails to put a real downer on the proceedings.  But the Hunger Games’ central conceit is the transgression of killing kids.  To me, that is compelling enough.  They could have made three movies of Katniss attempting to survive in the Hunger games arena, dodging murderous children and making the gut wrenching decision to kill friends, allies, and enemies alike to survive.  When she wins at the end, the question emerges if one can really win the Hunger Games (dun dun dun).  Her mind shattered, she leaves the arena a defeated woman relegated to becoming a distortion in future history books and oral tales.  The movie/series ends with her reading off the names of the next bunch of tributes as the games forever continue.  That is my perfect version of the Hunger Games rather than watching a rather pointless love triangle with two guys that just hold our beloved heroine back.

 If I was engaged in the world of the Hunger Games, I would like to live in the first two districts where the people are crazy about fighting in the games.  In these districts the teens usually volunteer for placement in the games and I would use this to my advantage.  Knowing this, I would simply wait for a proud fool to volunteer for the honor of killing twelve year olds from the mining district and slink into the background as a smart coward (in an ideal world I would live in the capitol, but beggars can’t be choosers).  Genius, I know.  I would repeat this process until I age out of the games, content with the quiet pride that comes with slightly beating the system.

As you can see, I’m not the biggest fan of the Hunger Games, yet for some reason I’ve seen both movies and will most likely see the third and fourth one because why not.  I believe that Katniss should have gotten with Woody Harrelson’s character because they had the most chemistry together on screen.  Woody Harrelson is just awesome.  Plus the whole pregnancy thing in the second movie was ridiculous on the part of the Capitol.  When Peeta announced that Katniss was pregnant, why didn’t the Capitol administer a pregnancy test to check the veracity of that bombshell claim?  When the Capitol proves that Katiness isn’t pregnant with a future archer/camouflage child, they could send out a massive propaganda campaign to discredit Katniss and brand her a liar.  Show the people the negative test for Christ sakes!  Her credibility decreases immensely and the Capitol wins their war with Katniss.  Done and done.  Capitol, if you’re hiring, I’m available.  Plus I look great in stupid facial hair.  I’d also like to meet Donald Sutherland.  

Don't be a Contrarian Jerk

Don’t be a contrarian jerk would be the name of this blog post or article.  In my many travels and countless studies I have devised a list of five things that are impossible to hate sincerely (at the least these five items gather some sort of begrudging respect).  If anybody tells you that they do not like or, at the bare minimum, appreciate any of the items on this carefully assembled list, you have my permission to knock out said person.  Maybe then they will understand how very wrong they are.

1)      The movie Singin’ in the Rain.  Half the time while viewing this film I have a frozen smile of untold delights plastered across my face.  For the other half, the smile is a hell of a lot wider.  Singin’ in the Rain is such a pleasant and fun movie to watch and an impossible song to not hum.  Even on summer days like today I go about prancing like Gene Kelly.  And don’t get me talking about “Make ‘Em Laugh”.  Every move in that song and dance is perfect and never ceases to amaze me (especially that killer ending).  Go to Youtube right now and watch both those songs.  If you finish both and you don’t have to pick your mouth off the floor, you’ve done it wrong.

2)      The Beatles.  Everybody at least respects the Beatles for being the Beatles.  They are the ubiquitous band that will never grow old or tiresome.  From pitch perfect pop music to semi-folk rock to psychedelic genius, the Beatles conquered every genre they set out to play.  Sometimes I feel that people forget how good the Beatles are because of the weight they hold.  Never hate on the Beatles.  Sure you can make fun of the solo careers or whatever if you’re feeling petty, but don’t mock the Beatles.  Don’t be that contrarian dick.

3)      Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera.  Even Red Sox fans have a respect for the way these two gentlemen carried themselves on and off the field.   Growing up during the late 90’s in New York City, Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera were untouchable.  They always did their jobs and won.  When either of them faltered in a big moment, the only emotion that resonated was shock and sadness.  Never, ever any A-Rod sized anger or blame was directed their way.  I am weary of using the phrase “True Yankee” but if any two players deserve that title, it’s the Captain and Mo.  Criticism of Derek Jeter, especially in his final season, gets me irrationally mad (so don’t bother with your damning sabermetrics) and I blame this on growing up a Yankees fan in the 90’s.  I will just not listen to any of it.  The man is a god for being a True Yankee both on and off the field.  And Mo is just Mo.  The greatest of all time.

4)      “ABC” by the Jackson Five.  If you can’t sing the lyrics to this song at the drop of a hat, it’s time to whip out those lyrics and get cracking.  The song is such an infectious bout of joy and catchiness that one cannot help but get up and lose themselves to the Motown sounds of a great band.   As I write these words I have the song playing on an endless loop of joy.  It’s a song that is used in every movie and yet I’ve never grown tired of it.  Hell, I wish it was in more movie montages. 

There is my list of five beauties that exist above our spectral plane of criticism.  Take them down if you wish, but know that you will fail in the most spectacular of ways.  And stop being a contrarian jerk.    

4th of July Tips

What does the 4^th of July mean to me?  To me the 4^th is about doing little to nothing while attempting to catch the end of the fireworks display over the Hudson River.  But to others in this vast land, the 4^th of July consists of barbecues, hot dog eating contests, and displays of Americana so intense that not even Norman Rockwell himself would dare to paint such scenes for fears of being deemed too tacky.  So for those unsure of how to celebrate or rather what to do on tomorrow’s celebration of our nation’s independence from the English, please read my guide to celebrating this holiest of high holy American holidays.  The guide is below (obviously).

1)      If you have an ancestor who was involved in the Confederacy or if you yourself own a confederate flag, you cannot celebrate July 4^th.  You come from a line of traitors and should not be able to celebrate our day.  So sit this one out buddy.

2)      Today is the day that wearing a tri-cornered hat is okay and doesn’t put off the vibe that you are a fucking idiot and reason why this country can’t be like the rest of the progressive nations in the world.

3)      Sing the national anthem loudly and proudly!   Wait, you don’t know the lyrics by heart?  You only know the first line and the home of the brave part?  Terrible.  Just terrible.

4)      Get the Stars and Stripes badge on Sporcle.  Then ask the question, what happened? 

5)      Soccer watching on July 4th?  Might as well just piss on the Constitution there comrade?  If you watch any sport that’s not baseball today you are dead to this proud nation.  Dead.

6)      Paint a rosy picture of this country’s history by conveniently leaving out all the awful things that have occurred in this nation’s past and present (note: you can/should do this every day.  It’s the American way).   

7)      Make sure to use the phrase “let’s create some fireworks of our own” in any relevant moment. Notice the time it takes for that phrase to become tiresome and lame (hint – the first time).

8)      Remember these colors don’t run…when hand washed.  Never, ever machine wash or they will run over everything and ruin all your clothes.

9)      I know it sounds crazy, but today is the one day where it’s okay to believe that that President isn’t a Kenyan Muslim fascist socialist.  Then, by all means, go back to be crazy tomorrow.

10)   Watch American Dad! out of patriotic duty and because it is fucking hilarious.  Roger Smith for President!

So heed my advice and have a Happy 4^th of July! 

Well that was a fun few weeks of enjoying soccer and the World Cup

Well that was a fun few weeks of enjoying soccer and the World Cup.   Now Americans can indulge in a far greater pastime of ignoring things that don’t involve the U.S.  Finally we can narrow our gaze back to the stateside arena and wash off those embarrassing days when we cared about countries like Ghana, Germany, Portugal, and Belgium.  The average American has no time to care about these countries.  That’s what the NSA is here for (Angela Merkel knows what I’m talking about).

 I suppose the World Cup will continue and it should by all means necessary, but the organizers should give the proper time to mourn the passing of the American squad.  Before the Brazil Colombia match, let the Star Spangled Banner ring out so that all can remember the scrappy underdog that came from the world’s only hyper power.  As I said in another post, the USA is one of the few underdogs that most people will root against and really who can blame these other countries.  We’re a hegemonic giant whose soulless corporations have taken over and destroyed other less powerful and less supersized cultures.  I’ll give them their fleeting moment of sporting glory before I don’t know I lost my train of thought because I’ve stopped thinking about other countries.  Ah, the glory of being a red blooded American has returned.  It’s been quite the while.  No longer will I watch a sports game with the possibility of seeing a disappointing tie.  My sports now end with clear winners to be celebrated and clear losers to be mocked for the end of time.  I can sit back and actually understand what is happening on the field rather than putting up a pathetic front.  In my weaker moments I will miss those great announcers that the World Cup brings to every match as we baseball fans have to suffer through  the old Sunday Night Baseball and FOX broadcasters, but never fear, it’s only a few months till the sweet sounds of Clyde himself returns when the basketball season arises. 

In closing, the World Cup: what a ride.  It was fun to watch America always look to be on the brink of disaster and play like the scrappy team we imagine our country to be.  The World Cup may still be going on, but for me the fun is over.  It’s now time to regal in Derek Jeter’s final season and observe what the Knicks can do in the off season.  Plus, there’s always the added bonus of not having to hear that incredibly pathetic I think we can win chant.  I mean c’mon, we’re America not the little engine that could.