I Do Like Beards

Some friends know I like beards. And some send me links about beards. Even though the missus won't let me keep mine longer than just scruff, it's true: I like beards.

I approve of this information visualization that ranks facial hair on a continuum from trustworthy to evil:



It came from here, if you want to look at it full-size and analyze.

I think he should've called the final one (on the evil side of the continuum) "The Charlie Chaplin" instead, just because that would be weird.

New York Governors Watch

What's happening with the New York Governors these days? Who cares? Well, here's a rundown, in case you do...

David Paterson is a lame duck. Since he decided not to run again for Governor, he's hasn't been in the news nearly as much.

Attorney General Andrew Cuomo, who hasn't announced that he's running but who I think will be our next Governor, has gone after Pedro (Yes, Pedro) Espada and his profiting-off-the-nonprofit ways. Pedro said something about the "political establishment" going after him as payback. Dude. You're Majority Leader. I think you ARE the political establishment. Anyway, Andrew still hasn't announced that he's running. And he never gives interviews. He's an oddball, this Andrew Cuomo.

Disgraced former Governor Elliot Spitzer is slowly but surely planning his comeback. He's a bit of a Wall Street expert, so he's turning up on TV here and there while financial reform is in the news. Unfortunately for him, it's going on at the same time that the prostitute he made famous is appearing in Playboy. No links. I'm sure you can find it if you want to.

The Governor before Spitzer, George Pataki, still seems to harbor higher office ambitions, and it's like no one's had the heart to tell him that not only do people outside of New York not give a shit about New York politicians (see: "Giuliani, Rudolph" for just the latest example), but that also Pataki has about as much charisma as that third cousin you've met a dozen times but still can't remember his name. Anyway, Pataki who has a reputation for being a moderate is drifting to the right these days. Which is appropriate: his combover too drifts to the right.

My personal favorite former Governor, Mario Cuomo, taught a Fox News reporter how to do his job today, demonstrating a piece of why he's my favorite former Governor. Do yourself a favor and read the exchange. God-DAMN, Mario is a very civil badass. Mario, I hope your son is as awesome as you are. Is he?

Shocking! Simply Shocking! Pass the Chips.

Once (probably more than once, actually) I called New York politics stupid. Another time, I called New York State Senator Martin Espada a Dickhead.

See, when I do that, Google Alerts informs some intern in Martin Espada's office that a ranty blogger with six readers is calling Martin names again. No one really cares.

Today's news, however, is slightly bigger than being named Dickhead by B&E. Someone with actual power (in this case Andrew Cuomo, New York's current Attorney General and, everyone assumes, New York's next governor) is suing Majority Leader Espada for funneling millions of dollars from his health care nonprofit toward his personal expenses. Dinner? The nonprofit will pay for that. Campaign expenses? Let the nonprofit take care of it. Family vacations to Vegas and Florida and Puerto Rico? Yeah, that's what nonprofits are for!

I mean, shit. The suit even alleges that Martin had a severance package ready for triggering that would give him $9 million and bankrupt the nonprofit.

Oh, Martin Espada... When you shut down the New York Senate for your own personal empowerment last year, you were a Dickhead, no doubt. And man, I sure can't wait to be able to call you Shitbird too.

Gosh, you're a loathsome creature.

UPDATE LATER: Please exchange the name Martin for Pedro throughout this post. There's a pretty big difference. Apologies to the poet Martin Espada, who wrote Alabanza. That'll teach me to write when I'm tired.

Hold On... I'm in the Middle.

Look, B&E readers. I've just been busy, okay? I've got a tough nut of a project that I'm working on in all of my spare time, and it's a bit all-consuming. So you'll have to accept my apologies. If you don't accept my apologies, well, up yours.

Also, it's looking like I'm going to have to migrate this blog soon, because Blogger has decided that it doesn't want to use its resources to allow people like me to use their blogging tools without a blogspot address.

I would say something insulting to Blogger now (like the "up yours" I gave to the readers who don't accept my apologies), if Blogger weren't owned by Google, which is a company that could hurt me very badly without my ever knowing it was Google that hurt me. They're very crafty that way.

Anyway, everything should still be on the same B&E channel, but it's probably gonna look different. That's alright, I suppose. While I'm at it, I'll probably update my links too. Since it's been a few years.

The Mets Lost, But Still...

B&E readers will be relieved to hear that I made it out to my first game of the Mets season this past weekend. I know you've all been waiting for this report. The Mets had pretty much lost the game by the end of the first inning, so it was really not about the game. But here's a report, according to the notes I took throughout.

Pre-game
I take the trusty 7 train, and a man in Mets jersey is offering what advice he's able to a Scotsman, who's trying to find his way to Long Beach. The Mets fan has a southern accent, and considering he's on the subway to New Shea, he knows very little about the 7 train. I chime in, resulting in being heartily welcomed into their circle of conversation.

The Scotsman announces he doesn't know the first thing about baseball. The Mets fan says that it's like rounders. This is something the missus tries to insist upon, and not knowing anything about rounders, except that it's played mostly by girls in schoolyards, I try to defend baseball's honor.

The Scotsman is from just outside of Glasgow, and has one of the most incomprehensible accents I've heard. I realize that part of the Mets fan's difficulty in giving directions is his inability to understand what the Scotsman is asking. I've had a little practice with the Glaswegian accent, so I help out. After the Scotsman gets off to grab the Long Island Railroad, the Mets fan and I agree that if he has to ask anyone else for directions, it's going to be a real challenge.

The Mets fan is from North Carolina, just in town for the weekend, but he's somehow a Mets fan. We never get to the point in the conversation in which I learn why he roots for the Mets. We wish each other a good game and get off the train at New Shea.

The Mets have upgraded New Shea to include more of Old Shea and Mets history, the lack of which has been the biggest complaint about the new stadium (my biggest complaint is the new stadium's name, but I fear I'm in the minority on that one). One of the first things you notice as you come down the stairs is Old Shea's Home Run Apple.

I'm a fan of Old Shea's Home Run Apple. It's charming in a beat up, low-rent sort of way, and watching it pop up after those rare home runs added some humor to the celebratory event. I'm among those that wish they'd transplanted this Apple right into the new stadium, but the Mets front office sees it differently.

But I'm happy to say that it's right outside the stadium now, where everyone can enjoy it.

You can just see a really happy kid poking his head into the photo there.

It's a bit of a spontaneous trip out to New Shea, so I need to buy my tickets at the stadium windows. I have an uncanny ability to choose the wrong window every time. Today is no exception. The guy in front of me has a very hairy neck.

Maybe it's the slowness of the ticket line (a lot of walk-up buyers breeze by me) or just that I'm exceptionally cheap when it comes to buying tickets to New York Metropolitan games, but my seat is about as far from the action as it can be.

1st Inning
On the way to my seat, I decide to stand in the back of the field level to watch the first batter. Johan Santana deals to Nyjer Morgan of the Washington Nationals, and he immediately hits a triple. I decide that maybe standing here isn't a good idea.

By the time I get to my seat, the Nationals have loaded the bases, and before I know it, Josh Willingham has hit a bases-clearing triple that, upon further review by the umpires, is ultimately ruled a home run. A grand slam in the top of the 1st inning, and I've only just gotten to my seat.

The blind spots in this stadium are not insignificant. I can't see a large portion of the outfield. That's another complaint about the new stadium.

The first half of the first inning finally comes to an end, and I realize that I've forgotten to put on sunscreen. Well, my doctor says I need more Vitamin D. This is the view from my seat.

It's a pretty nice day, despite the score.

2nd Inning
The Mets look lackluster out there. Gary Matthews, Jr. comes to bat to James Brown, but Gary doesn't nearly bring the power that James did.

3rd Inning
The bathrooms are actually pretty nice at New Shea.

The Mets are in trouble again, but then bright spot Jeff Franceour throws a bullet from right field and ON THE FLY nails Adam Dunn at the plate. Dunn is out by such a distance that he doesn't even bother to slide or knock over the catcher. Jeff's got a cannon out there.

Johan Santana has Carlos Santana playing over the loudspeakers when he's warming up before the game. But I'm pretty sure he comes to bat to Michael Jackson's "It Don't Matter if You're Black or White." Which is unexpected.

4th-6th Innings
I pay a visit to the New Mets' Hall of Fame and Museum, which is small (insert joke here) but quite satisfying. Plaques of Mets legends adorn the walls, video of previous World Series teams play on a loop, game-used equipment and other pieces of Mets history are presented behind glass. My favorite is probably the handwritten notes Casey Stengel took about his ballplayers on the hapless 1962 team.

This is a cute sculpture of Casey Stengel.

Isn't he cute?

A record of better days in Mets history: the 1969 World Series trophy.

Plenty of room in the Mets Hall of Fame for more of those. I suspect that won't happen this year.

7th Inning
I go for some food. I find that the item I return to at New Shea is the fried flounder sandwich at Pasternak's Catch of the Day stand. It's just good. I think it's even crispier this year.

Tasty, right?

I wonder when the Mets decided to sing "God Bless America" during the 7th inning again.

8th Inning
I take a seat in a shady area near my section. A punk guy is screaming profanities, and the two punk girls sitting with him are detached and amused. He's very tightly wound. He leaves before the game ends.

Still, there's some excitement, as Mike Jacobs, who's hearing the boo birds pretty early in the season, hits a two-run home run. It feels too late, though, which is weird, considering it's really not.

9th Inning
Francisco "Pink Eye" Rodriguez hits a batter in the 9th, and even though there didn't appear to be any altercation, suddenly the benches are clearing. I love watching the guys from the bullpens run toward the action because, of course, by the time they actually get there, they have to turn right around and go back to the bullpens. It's a funny tradition, the clearing-of-the-benches. Everyone is required to clear the benches, even if you have no intention of participating in any sort of physical violence. Ah, baseball tradition.

Jim Bouton actually has a very funny story about this tradition in his groundbreaking book Ball Four, the first of the sports tell-all books. I'm not going to retell it here because it feels like it would be too much work.

The Mets go out like a lamb in the bottom of the 9th.

They don't look good, B&E readers, I don't mind telling you. But a day at the ballpark is still one hell of a way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Out Crazying The Crazy

A while back, I'd wanted to draw my six readers' attention to a creative counter protest in San Francisco in response to perennial protester Fred Phelps. But then time went by, and you know how these things work.

But hey now! It's relevant again! So here I go!

For those who may not remember Fred Phelps and the Phelps Family Singers, they're the "God Hates Fags" people, recently in the news because a dead Marine's father was ordered by a judge to pay the Phelps' family legal costs, because the Marine's father sued the Phelps for protesting at his son's funeral. Bill O'Reilly ended up stepping in on behalf of the Marine's father and paying the legal costs.

This is but one example of the Phelps Horror Show.

Anyway, San Francisco! So you might be surprised to hear that there are some freaks out there. And freaks are funny. So the freaks made some crazy-ass signs to out crazy the Phelps' crazy-ass signs. I'm partial to the one that just says, "ME!" but there are a couple of real gems in there.

Also, you can play around with your own crazy signs here. I made this one:


So how is it suddenly relevant again? Well, a fella called Jason Levin received his inspiration from the wackiness of the sign makers in San Francisco and, in the tradition of the Yes Men, has come up with an idea that's part performance art, part activism, and part sheer lunacy.

The short of it is that Jason hopes to destroy the Tea Party movement by infiltrating and pushing it further away from the mainstream, so that Everyman looks at them and says, "Well, that's too fucking crazy for me."

His people may or may not be the people saying the craziest of the crazy shit you hear coming from the Tea Parties. So if members of the Tea Party start claiming that Obama performs deviant sexual acts, a member of Jason's group might say, "Yeah, and the president also fucks goats!" The best part is that the Tea Party won't know who's legitimately crazy and who's just fucking with them. Maybe a real Tea Bagger thinks that the president fucks goats. Just maybe. Who can tell?

Go, Jason.

It's More Like This, Actually

In general, I try to avoid hearing the smug, bitchy voice of Sarah Palin, which doesn't lose any of its shrill in print. (As a quick aside, I also sort of hate using those types of words to describe the voice of a woman in politics since they scream of sexism. But in this case, I just can't think of other words. Her voice hurts my head. Like when Bjork sings.)

You probably heard that President Obama signed a nuclear arms reduction treaty with our Cold War nemesis Russia. And a few days ago, he also changed the U.S. rules of engagement with regard to nuclear warheads.

People on the right say that these things make us weaker. People on the left say that Obama hasn't gone far enough. I tend to agree (surprise, surprise) with the people on the left, but I also get the feeling that nuclear disarmament, more than any other issue Obama has spoken about/acted upon, is the issue of his lifetime. His desire for a nuclear bomb-free world seems utterly sincere to me. In other words, although what he's done so far doesn't go far enough, more than most issues for this president, I trust it's a process, of which this is but one step.

For some on the right, like let's say former half-term governor Sarah Palin, it doesn't matter what Obama does. They'll complain anyway. Hell, Obama could shoot a wolf from a helicopter while signing a law that allows oil drilling in the Arctic Ocean, and Sarah Palin would somehow claim that he's a socialist.

Anyway, about her response to all the anti-nuclear activities of the past few days, Greg Sargent pulled out this quote in his Morning Plum:

It’s kinda like getting out there on a playground, a bunch of kids, getting ready to fight, and one of the kids saying, "Go ahead, punch me in the face and I’m not going to retaliate."

Of course it's not actually like that at all because, you see, the use of nuclear weapons isn't off the table completely, and let's face facts: we have an enormous arsenal of non-nuclear warheads at our disposal that can just as easily destroy things. See "Iraq, Baghdad" for details.

So really it's kinda like getting out there on a playground, a bunch of kids, getting ready to fight, and one of the kids saying, "You punch me in the face, I will take this shotgun, blow a hole in your head, and fuck your skull. How strong does your fist look now, next to my shotgun and cock?"

Dude. Watch Your Choice of Words.

Tiger Woods is back and he gave a press conference and blah blah blah blah.

I have to admit that one little soundbite caught my attention. Referring to the support he's gotten from his fellow golfers at the Master's, he said, "The encouragement I got, it blew me away."

Even more so than the oral sex he received from his many mistresses! Zang! Zzp-POW! Wocka-wocka-wocka!

Thank you, B&E readers. I'll be here all week.

Soak It In, B&E Readers

Oh, You're SOOOOOOOO Persecuted

Some of you may have heard that the whole sexual abuse scandal has reared its ugly head again for the Catholic Church. It turns out that the current Pope himself, back when he was just a measly cardinal, mishandled a specific case including one priest who abused more than 200 deaf children.

"Protect the church at all costs." That seems to be the rule that required following. More so, say, than, "Let's protect children."

And now that it's become public just how badly the Pope screwed the pooch in this case, the Vatican is doing just what it's supposed to. They are groveling before their parishioners and begging forgiveness.

In other words, they're attacking the New York Times and just about anyone else who dares to wonder why the current Pope once failed to do the right thing when dealing with an abusive priest.

Today is the holiest day in the Christian calendar: Good Friday. Jesus Christ died on this day. It's a mournful, atoning sort of day.

So it only makes sense that a senior Vatican priest would compare this current persecution to the persecution of the Jews. "[Jews] know from experience what it means to be victims of collective violence and also because of this they are quick to recognize the recurring symptoms," he said in discussing a letter from a Jewish friend, who is appalled at the "violent and concentric attacks" against the Catholic Church.

Now I don't know if this is a real letter from a real Jewish person, but even if we assume that it is... Dude, you can't fucking do that. Just because Clarence Thomas and his wife are Tea Party supporters, that doesn't mean the n-bombs thrown by Tea Baggers at members of Congress are okay.

What I'm really saying is this... The Times is reporting on documented facts (there's a paper trail, for crying out loud) about a seriously bad judgment on the part of the Pope and the Catholic Church. Implying that that is somehow the same thing as killing 6,000,000 Jews is fucking offensive. Shame on you. Seriously. Shame on you.

You've handled almost everything about this badly, Catholic Church. And you seem determined to continue to do so. Well done.