They Are, After All, Typically Bald and Usually Effective

reading
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Generally speaking, when riding the subway, I catch up on my periodical reading. The Nation is really the only periodical to which I subscribe, and until recently, I rode on the subway just enough to get through the articles in The Nation I wanted to read. The next issue would arrive, and there I go.

Well, since going back to being a daily subway rider for the new job, one issue of The Nation per week is no longer satisfying my needs for reading and riding. So on Thursday, I was reading a book (not the one pictured).

I've been having mixed feelings about this particular piece of fiction, liking it just enough to continue working my way through it. But it's good for the subway, as it can be read in fits and starts without losing much in the experience. During Thursday's commute, I reached a part of the book that was actually quite riveting. I didn't miss my transfer point or anything, but I immediately went back to reading after switching trains and finished the chapter.

When I closed the book and looked up for the first time that morning on the southbound number 1 train, I came face-to-...well, tits... with cleavage.

I was raised in a household by a father who respected women and by a mother who taught me what that meant. I also have an older sister who made sure I turned out to be a sensitive man, even if it meant kicking my ass from time-to-time. So I know that I'm not supposed to stare at women's tits on the subway. It's this knowledge that made me turn my face away.

Right into more cleavage.

I'm married, of course, and if there's one thing that marriage teaches you, it's that a husband's eyes shouldn't wander to another woman's breasts. In fact, depending on one's wife's mood, a husband's eyes shouldn't necessarily wander to his wife's breasts. So with the understanding that there are very few circumstances during which it's appropriate to be staring at breasts, I once again turned my face away.

Right into the most impressive cleavage yet.

Without any other options, I began reading the next chapter in my book.

Edward R. Olbermann

good night good luck
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

As someone without cable, I don't get the MSNBC network, and because of that, Keith Olbermann has remained in my peripheral awareness as a pundit and commentator. Some of you may have noticed my fascination with baseball, and Keith Olbermann used to be a sportscaster. So my association with Keith goes back to the time that Yankee second baseman, Chuck Knoblauch, suffering from a serious case of the yips, hit Keith's mother in the stands with his errant throw. Keith handled it like a true professional: "I'm going to step out of the booth for a moment. Chuck's throw just hit my mother."

Anyway, Titivil links to Keith's blog and has a well-voiced opinion on the man, and recently, Virgil linked to Keith's 9/11 comment, which Olbermann empassioned directly through the president's thick head.

So while I'm late to the Olbermann political commentary party, I'd like to add my own little link. This tirade, like most of Keith's ending pieces, runs about eight minutes, but it's got all the juice of a Grecian peach.

Some commentary on his commentary...

He calls Bush the worst president since James Buchanan. Keith skips right over Herbert Hoover and Warren G. Harding, two men widely regarded as truly terrible presidents, and goes right back to the man who was personally responsible for fucking up Kansas in the 1850s. Keith's decision to compare Bush to Buchanan pleases me greatly.

Hoover and Harding were inept and corrupt, perhaps, but Buchanan was inept, corrupt, and destructive on a massive scale. Granted, Buchanan's policies affected primarily only our own still-growing country, but he was enormously divisive, and appropriately enough, Karl Rove was Buchanan's Deputy Chief of Staff.

Anyway, it's about time that President Buchanan stops getting his free pass. Except for history geeks, no one knows the awesome power of Buchanan's terribleness. And while Keith didn't explain why the Bush Administration is the worst since Buchanan's, I'm a fan of getting Buchanan's name back in the popular consciousness.

In fact, I think maybe President James Buchanan is, posthumously of course, Dickhead of the Week. (Especially since I don't know how many more postings I'll get to this week.)

One minor complaint about Olbermann's commentary. He ends his tirade with Edward R. Murrow's iconic, "Good night, and good luck." He's great, that Keith, but he's not Edward R. Murrow, and he should consider getting his own tagline. If it's good and catchy, and if Keith can continue to stand up for all that is good and right in this country, then perhaps whatever his tagline is will become iconic in its own right.

One suggestion: "Chuck's throw just hit my mother."

But, Wait. I Have Something to Say...

I really want to post a little ditty today, but I have to go to my job now. Hopefully, by the time I get around to writing what I want to write, the content won't be irrelevant.

Thanks for visiting. Sorry to disappoint. But there are some nonprofits that need me to write some shit for them today.

Is That the Devil I Smell, Or Did You Fart?

hugo
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

I'm admittedly late getting in on the conversation about Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. (I've got a job.) On the other hand, Hugo's been on my radar for some time, and I've generally enjoyed watching what he's doing, even if there are some questionable aspects to his leadership.

Lately, though, I've been wondering if Hugo's upped his dosage of crazy pills. Go hang by the bedside of Fidel Castro. That's understandable. But chilling with Iran's president Mahmoud "Let's Wipe Israel Off the Map" Ahmadinejad had me going, "Whaaaa?" And while he may have his semi-legitimate reasons for calling Bush "the devil," his complaints about the lingering stench of sulphur at the UN podium were a bit over the top. If not downright nuts.

Back in his home country again, Hugo's saying that Bush should resign (I agree there) and defending his use of the term "devil" to describe Bush, explaining that his speech was also meant to be humorous. You know, those Venezuelans are best known for their sense of humor. Endy Chavez of the Mets (no relation that I know of) is the clubhouse prankster, which is a juicy tidbit I just totally invented.

I don't necessarily have much to add to the discussion, but if, like me, you wanted to read more about Hugo, here are some links: This one is a lefty analysis of Chavez's "new world vision." This one talks about how Chavez is a pariah to Republicans and Democrats alike, now that he's complained of the devil's putrid stench. And while I don't always like to link to things that piss me off, this one puts Hugo's anti-American rants in the context of an OPEC nation, rather than a Latin American one. Naturally, what pisses me off in this analysis is the denial that the West has in fact screwed Latin America and bled much of the Third World dry. This is why some people oppose "globalization." So why link to it? I don't fucking know. It's 7am on a Saturday, and I woke up early, and I just finished my first week of full-time work in well over five years. So shut up.

Dickhead of the Week - MTA Management

MTA
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

I gotta go to work shortly, so I simply offer this link from The New York Times as evidence of MTA management's Dickheadedness.

Fuck you, Metropolitan Transit Authority. Seriously. Fuck you.

Well Done, Boys

clinch
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

It took about three days too long, but the Mets' magic number was finally reduced to zero, as they defeated the Marlins last night, thereby winning their division. As everyone is saying, it's been since 1988. Last time the Mets won the division, I hadn't had sex yet.

I selected the photo of David Wright and Jose Reyes partially because Jose's champagne-protecting goggles are sweet. But the main reason is that I want to start a rumor that the left side of the Mets infield is engaging in a homosexual relationship. A long-term monogamous relationship to go with those long-term contracts they both signed. Lookin' good, boys.

And a word about B&E (those of you who bleep over the baseball posts will miss out on this perhaps, but it serves you right for bleeping over the baseball posts, you anti-baseball bastards)...

As I've stated, I begin a full-time job today. I leave in a half-hour. I don't yet know how well I'll be able to keep up the regular posting. I hope that I won't slack off too much, and I hope that I can continue to please you effectively with my bald prose.

But that there is the preemptive disclaimer in case I struggle to keep up. I love you all, and hope to make sweet blogging love to all of you for many years to come. You're totally hot.

I'm Doing Laundry on a Monday

laundry bag
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

For the past five years I've enjoyed performing tasks typically saved for weekends on weekdays. And I do those tasks with a quiet smugness as I imagine all my friends slaving away at their office jobs. Yesterday, you poor bastards fought for a dryer. Today, the laundromat is my oyster.

I'm doing laundry today because I start a full-time office job tomorrow. I bought some pants for the occasion. But I will be wearing those pants without underpants unless I do laundry today. While that's something I may feel comfortable doing over time, I don't think I want to go commando on my first day. So I'm doing laundry.

From tomorrow forward, I will be like the rest of New York -- filling the laundromats on weekends, missing an open dryer because I've run out of quarters, bumping elbows over counter space for folding.

Oh, who am I kidding? With my new increased income, I'll probably just spend more money and drop the shit off.

I Want a Presidential Sharpie

I'm not the biggest fan of our Commander-in-Chief, but if someone could hook me up with a presidential Sharpie, I'd totally use it. With pride. You see, it's permanent. Just like the damage this administration has inflicted upon our country and the world.

Jewish Ballplayers. Up Yours, Mel.

Hilary was correct when she said this video combined three of my favorite topics: baseball, Mel Gibson, and Jews. I hope it pleases you, too. Thanks, Hil.

Add a Shitbird to the List

ney
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

I could be wrong, but I don't think Representative Bob Ney has won the Dickhead of the Week award here at B&E. Terrible oversight on my part, dear readers, and for that I apologize. Especially since Bob Ney will be going to prison.

The New York Times is reporting that Bob "Shot In The" Ney will be the first elected official to plead guilty to crimes stemming from the Jack Abramoff investigation. Ney was one of the golfers on that infamous Scotland trip, and he is not running for re-election this fall due to stress related to the Abramoff "ordeal."

Meanwhile, Ney has checked himself into an alcohol rehabilitation program. You see, he's not rotten to the core. No, no. His corruption goes only as far as his disease.

My favorite tidbit from the investigation that continues is that in financial disclosure statements he claimed to have won $34,000 at a private London casino. Coincidentally, Ney had about $34,000 in outstanding credit card debt. A lucky day, indeed!

And now I'll get petty, because it's fun to do that. I'm looking at this photo of Ney, and I can't help but feel the man wears a rug. Either that, or he's got some fucked up hair. Either way, I hope it's removed for his mug shot, which will inevitably appear on The Smoking Gun.

Oops.

I didn't post anything today because I forgot. That's not terribly effective of me. Rest assured, I am still bald.

Dickhead of the Week - Immigration Edition

tancredo
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

We have two Dickheads this week, but it's Representative Tom Tancredo who gets the photo. It is truly amazing the photos you can find from politicians' own websites. Well done, Tom.

Even better done, though, was Tom's participation as guest-of-honor for a white supremacist event in South Carolina. The US Representative has an understandable ship-'em-all-out attitude toward immigrants, as his home state of Colorado borders, uh, Wyoming. Oh, and New Mexico, which is, after all, just a new Mexico.

Anyway, hoping to mobilize the coveted hate-vote, Tom went before the secession group to test the waters of his potential 2008 presidential run. Naturally, because they were a secession group, he preached a message of unity. Mmmr?

This week's co-hate-mongering Dickhead is Morgan Wilkins, a campus organizer who planned fun activities at the University of Michigan, such as Catch an Illegal Immigrant!

Ms. Wilkins also set up firing ranges with cutouts of prominent Democrats and invited students to shoot them with BB's and paint pellets. Admittedly this sounds like a good time, but that doesn't mean it's not offensive and dangerous.

(Full disclosure: I enjoy shooting BB guns. While in Vermont, I tagged a fez-wearing rubber monkey through the window of a tiny plastic stagecoach, without hitting the stagecoach. Yes, it was a good shot.)

Naturally, the Democratic National Committee Chairman, Howard Dean, wrote a strongly-worded letter to his Republican National Committee counterpart, Ken Mehlman. Republicans are running from Morgan's organizing efforts saying that she's unaffiliated with the party and an independent contractor hired to recruit college-aged GOP members. Uh...

Both of these stories came to my attention via The Huffington Post, which also offered this non-Dickheaded gem from Everyone's Favorite Jowls, Dennis Hastert. Poor singing voices can be forgiven, but he should at least know the words.

Don't Forget to Vote

vote
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Look, I know it's just a stinkin' primary election today, but voting is a good time. And during a primary voting day, you don't even have to wait in any lines.

I love voting in Queens. There are fun language barriers and some of the oldest people I've ever seen. It's not efficient, but it is great. I got back an hour ago and I was the 21st person in my district to vote. How's that for making my vote count?

Primaries are fun, too, because you can actually vote for candidates who share a majority of your values. In the general election, I'll vote for Hillary over whomever the Republican candidate is. But today, I was able to vote for Tasini, who attempted to pull a Ned Lamont here in New York, but couldn't quite get momentum going for his campaign. Still, Tasini's an anti-war candidate hitting Hillary from the left. I love hitting the Democratic Party from the left.

In the Attorney General race, I went with Sean Patrick Maloney. Mark Green is fine, and Andrew Cuomo probably is, too, and Maloney has no real chance of winning. He's just a bit too unknown. But it's a primary! And Maloney has fire, chutzpah, cohones. Progressive, well-spoken, and passionate. I like Maloney. He gets my primary vote.

For governor, I went with the predictable choice: Eliot Spitzer. Apologies to my friend's boyfriend for not voting for his life-long buddy, Tom Suozzi. I don't dislike Suozzi. But finally, I went with Spitzer for a reason that's very important here at B&E...

He's got less hair. And anyone who can prosecute the shit out of Wall Street the way Spitzer has is clearly effective.

In Case You Missed It...

towers of light
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of the events of September 11, 2001. I only mention this because it's quite possible that you missed any reference to it. No one was talking about it. No one at all. It was nowhere in the media. And it wasn't exploited politically even once.

I remained silent here at B&E out of respect. OK, really I remained silent because I spent the day en route from Vermont to New York.

A couple of weeks ago, the missus and I decided to go to the observation deck at Empire State Building. I hadn't gone in years, and the missus never had. Meanwhile, she'd gone up in the World Trade Center, and I'd never done that. My reason? I was told by more than a few people that the view from the Empire State Building was cooler because it was mid-island.

Anyway, I like going to the Empire State Building. It's one of the things I'll do with friends and family from out of town. If you look just past the left of the Citibank Building in Queens, you can see my block, but not my apartment. I don't really know why I like doing that, but I do.

The experience of the Empire State Building has changed in the past five years (it had been at least that long since I'd gone). Salespeople were trying to get us to buy things all along the way. Audio tours of the view from the top, photographs in front of green screens, tickets to virtual tours... All this stuff was new. And it was bad enough that we were waiting in line for as long as we were. But we heard the same pitches over and over and over again, and it was really aggravating.

The missus said quietly, "Well, they don't have any competition anymore."

I said, "Boy, 9-11 was a real boon for the Empire State Building!"

We were both quiet for a moment.

"Too soon."

"Yeah, too soon," the missus agreed.

Much Ado About Pants

pants
Originally uploaded by dangunderman.

Welcome back, dear B&E readers. By welcoming you back, of course, I welcome myself back from yet another trip that took me through heightened security.

Air travel is often the source of material (see Airplane, Airport, Top Gun, and Red Eye, among many others), and my flight back to New York from London offered a curious anecdote that caps off a couple of weeks of pants-prominence.

I'm seated next to a nervous flyer. She's sandwiched between me and a smelly man. Poor woman. About two hours into the flight, Nervous Flyer and Smelly Man both get up to use the toilet. When Nervous Flyer returns, figuring I was up anyway, I take care of business also. When I get back to my seat, Smelly Man still hasn't returned.

"This might sound a little strange," Nervous Flyer says to me, "but the man next to me took his pants off." I must be giving her a perplexed look. "I felt him shift and bounce, and then I saw his bare leg exposed from under the blanket." I still have nothing to say, so she adds, "And he went all the way to the back of the plane to use the bathroom and hasn't come back."

"He had his pants on when he went to the bathroom, right?"

I don't know why that seems relevant, and obviously I would've noticed if a pants-less man had gotten out of his seat. But I really don't know what else to say to her. And I'm still trying to figure out if she thinks he was keeping a bomb in his ass that he is now assembling in the lavatory, or if she is simply disgusted by the thought of Smelly Man masturbating in the back of the plane.

My lack of response is clearly disappointing to Nervous Flyer, and by this point, she's white-knuckling the arm rest. Nervousness can be contagious, of course, so now my mind is racing at all of the things Smelly Man could be doing in the bathroom. And I never would've expected that semi-public masturbation would be the best scenario.

Nervous Flyer finally says, "I'm telling someone. I don't know what I'm going to say, and they're going to think I'm crazy, but I'm telling someone something."

I let her out, but she's back immediately. "OK, he's just standing back there." I still don't know if she's worried about bombings or diddlings, but somehow seeing him standing in the galley eases her fear. And we watch X-Men 3.

Smelly Man returns to his seat ten minutes before landing. The missus thinks maybe he wet himself (she's still in Scotland, by the way). But the smell of Smelly Man was BO, not urine. So why he needed to take off his pants in our row, then stand in the galley for six hours will remain a mystery.

But as long as I'm on the subject of pants...

While visiting the missus' godparents, we played the consistently entertaining game of comparing dialects. In Great Britain, where they speak the Queen's English, pants means underpants. And trousers are pants. Bum means fanny, and fanny means female genitalia. So when the daughter of the family put on her best American accent (which wasn't terribly good) and asked, "Do these pants make my fanny look big?" much laughter was had by all.

"Pants" is clearly a comedy word in both versions of English. I once wrote a comedy sketch about a patient whose therapist didn't wear pants. The set-up was funny, sure, but somehow, repeating "pants" over and over and over just kept making the sketch funnier and funnier and funnier. That David Letterman's production company is called "Worldwide Pants" must prove something about "pants" being a funny word. Heh. Pants...

But even before the trip, pants were becoming a serious issue in my life. I've spent the past five years working from home. My attitude has often been, "Why put on pants when I don't have to?"

Well, as I've mentioned, I've been looking for work. In most work environments, pants are compulsory. Now that I've found and accepted a job, I will once again be a daily pants wearer. In some ways I feel I'm growing up. In other ways, putting on pants every day feels like a step backwards. I thought my pants-wearing days were behind me. I will once again be working for The Man, and The Man requires pants.

Fortunately, however, I can wear the pants of my choice. I don't need to wear The Man's pants. My Carhartt's are good enough. And actually, I'm not really working for The Man, as I will be the only man in the office. And besides, it's a place that works solely with the nonprofit sector. Still, I'll have to wear my nonprofit pants every day.

And this brings me to the final pants-relevant news of the day. While searching for my pants image to go along with my pants post, I made a startling and pleasant discovery...

No Pants Day is May 4, 2007. Yahtzee.