Bald & Effective

By Ironic You Mean...

2010-03-08T20:16:00.000-05:00

I can't say I'm all that surprised to hear that Governor-for-a-Short-Time Palin used to head across the border to Canada to get her grubby paws on some free health care.

She said in the interview, "I think now, isn't that ironic?"

Um, no. It's not ironic. It's outrageous, perhaps. Hypocritical, obviously. Exploitative, certainly. But nothing about it is ironic.

Jesus Christ.

Did My Eyes Deceive Me?

2010-03-06T15:01:00.002-05:00

New Yorkers know well that the subway system hosts a whole lot of panhandlers. I'm not talking about people from, say, the panhandle of Florida. I'm talking about the people who sell, perform, or otherwise ask for cash on the trains.

When you do same commute every day (in my case, it's two different commutes, depending on circumstances), you get to see a lot of the same panhandlers. There's a dapper little violinist who, despite his playing ten hours a day, really doesn't know how to play the violin. There's a saxophonist I try to avoid on the F train. There are several mariachi combos on the 7 train. There are the kids who sell their candy, "not for basketball uniforms, but to earn a little money and keep me off the streets." There's often a blind dude at the 7 to F transfer.

During my evening commute this week, while walking down the steps to the 7 train, I noticed a dude who looked a bit down on his luck. The train was pulling into the station, and he scurried to the back car. I wandered into the second-to-last car and didn't give him another thought.

Until a seriously disabled panhandler staggered into our car. He was shaking from head-to-toe and could barely walk. He was hunched over and held tightly to the various handrails available for support. It was the same dude I saw walking down the stairs, except that this version of him would never had made it up or down the stairs.

He announced that he was going to take up the next ten or fifteen minutes of our time. This is unheard of. Most panhandlers do their thing and move on quickly.

I was listening to music, so I didn't catch everything the man said as he staggered up and down the car, very slowly, but he talked about injuries, mentioned something about 9/11, and offered to help anyone else in the car who might be hungry.

But it was the physicality that was truly remarkable. People get on and off the trains, of course, and over ten or fifteen minutes, you pull through approximately five to eight stops. One woman, wanting to catch the transfer across the platform, reached out to give him a dollar, couldn't get her money in his little bag (which he'd placed on the floor next to a handrail), and laid the bill next to it so she wouldn't miss her train. He worked desperately to bend, holding the rail for dear life, trying to get the bill until another rider grabbed the bill and put it in his bag for him.

This fella was so convincing in his physical performance that I began to question if he was really the same man I saw walking down the stairs at the station. Even now, thinking back, I don't feel so sure. His performance was that good, B&E readers.

He was doing pretty well for himself money-wise in my car, and he was still going on when I got off the train at my stop.

It was downright spooky. And impressive. Cirque du Soleil should totally hire him.

Lady? Check. Baseball? Check. Knuckler?! Check!

2010-03-03T21:18:00.001-05:00

What's not to like about this little tidbit, B&E readers? First of all, it's about a woman. I like women. Secondly, it's about baseball. Gosh, I do like baseball. Thirdly, it's about a knuckleball pitcher. I do love a good knuckleball.

When you roll those things into one, you get Eri Yoshida, an 18-year-old knuckleballer in Japan, who might just become the first female professional baseball player. Watch the video. Like all videos in Japanese it's genuinely confusing and oddly compelling.

Man, I'm glad spring training is here.

Even though the Mets star centerfielder and shortstop are being interviewed by investigators about a doctor who allegedly gave out steroids (or something akin to it), and the star closer is out with pink eye.

Really? Pink eye? Jesus, guys, get it together.

Then There's the Real Reason

2010-03-02T20:43:00.000-05:00

Harold Ford isn't running for the U.S. Senate against Kirsten Gillibrand. He explains why in an op-ed piece in the New York Times, which has already given him a lot of press in recent weeks.

I've said before that I've got little opinion about our appointed Senator Gillibrand. She's moved to the left since being appointed by our Governor (who also isn't running - Jesus, I go out of town for a few days and return to Paterson in full meltdown mode), which I like, but truth be told, I just don't know that much about her.

Other people flirted with running against Kirsten. Carolyn Maloney, who represents me according to just about every online advocacy group even if I've never had the option of voting for her at the actual polls, was considering a primary challenge. I do like Rep. Maloney. She's usually a reliably progressive vote. I would've happily voted for her in a primary to Gillibrand.

Harold Ford lumps himself together with Carolyn Maloney in discussing the enormous pressure he received to not run from the party machine. And the lack of party support is one thing he cites in his op-ed about why he won't run.

What he doesn't mention, of course, is that he began campaigning in earnest before he made the official decision to run. And there's one striking absence from his list of reasons for not getting involved in the race.

New Yorkers, particularly potential Democratic primary voters, think he's an enormous asshole. Assholes have won plenty of elections, so assholery is not an inherent deal breaker. But he came off as an incompetent, petty, utterly uninteresting, non-resident asshole.

If we New Yorkers didn't hate Harold Ford, he'd totally run. And he is lying by omission in his op-ed.

That Wasn't What I Expected

2010-03-01T21:38:00.000-05:00

The missus and I went to a most excellent wedding this past weekend. It's really such a pleasure to see two (or more!) people you love getting hitched.

The couple in question really did it right. It was a destination wedding. Northwest Ohio is, after all, a destination. And there's no better time to visit northwest Ohio than February. It snowed at least a little bit every single day!

But seriously, B&E readers, if I may be sincere for a moment, I couldn't be happier for this couple, and the missus and I were thrilled to be a part of it all. Nice friends, nice family, one near run-in over a table between a hormonal pregnant friend and some angry OSU graduates, delicious Greek food, some kickass processional/recessional music from the missus, lots of laughter, and no serious drama. I'm telling you, B&E readers... it was a great wedding.

So how about that winter road trip? Some of you may have heard that New York was slammed by a pretty decent snowstorm this past weekend. Thursday, in fact. We were supposed to leave on Thursday, and I won the "genius award" from the missus for convincing her to leave on Wednesday late instead. Yes, it was an extra evening in a hotel, but the idea was to get out before the storm hit.

We drove about two-and-a-half hours into Pennsylvania. When we woke up on Thursday morning, I was pretty convinced I'd been a total idiot (again), what with the several inches of snow and near white-out conditions.

But once we got a half-hour or so west of the hotel, it was smooth sailing, and we made it to our destination.

Naturally, it was a road trip. Road trips mean road eating. When you just want to get to your destination, you're limited to what you see when you stop.

Put more succinctly, we ate at fucking McDonald's.

It's been years since we've done that. Or maybe since whenever our last road trip was. But we really don't do the fast food thing. In the past year and a half or so I've largely given up sugar consumption (apart from fruit), and I've been watching the salt intake for some time now.

So when I ordered that Southern Chicken Sandwich, I was expecting a sodium explosion. It didn't disappoint, but salt was the second flavor I noticed.

When I took my first bite, I actually thought something was wrong with my order. It tasted almost like cake to me. It was just wrong. Once I took the second bite, my taste buds had adjusted, and it was all about the salt again.

But Judas Priest, B&E readers: I couldn't believe that first bite. It was really disconcerting. Naturally, I ate the whole goddamn thing because that's what people do when they go to McDonald's (or anywhere else, really). But I was spooked.

I looked up the nutrition information about a Southern Style Crispy Chicken sandwich at McDonald's, and it looks like there are 6 grams of sugar in there. That's actually less than half the sugar there is in other chicken sandwiches.

Still... That first bite was really sweet. And fucked up. I think I can't eat at McDonald's ever again, even on a road trip. There are other fucked up choices on the road, and those fucked up places will get my business.

I sincerely hope that they will not freak me out with their deliciousness.

Binder & Binder Comments

2010-02-25T21:39:00.000-05:00

Comments on the old posts continue. Over a year ago, I had some issues with the cowboy hat worn by a lawyer in a shitty commercial that airs on NY1. Follow the link to the old post if you're interested in reading all of the comments (including one from a former employee! Look out!).

But allow me to draw your attention to one in particular. This week, I received a comment from a fella called Greg, who offered a link to his investigative report on Mr. Binder, Esq. He has conveniently embedded the ad in question, so that you can enjoy the cowboy hat in all its glory. Greg's mom emailed Binder & Binder (awesome), and received a reply to her inquiry about the hat, among other things.

Enjoy the hell out of it, B&E readers, and nice work, Greg, for actually pursuing the information.

And according to Greg, Charles "Cowboy Hat" Binder is bald under that sucker. Nice.

Won't You Take Me To... SEPIATOWN??

2010-02-24T20:43:00.000-05:00

Those of my six readers who also click on the links to the right (so, then, none of you) may be wondering why Virgil's been so quiet these past couple of years. It turns out there's a simple explanation for why he's been denying so many of us bite-sized nibbles of his that nubile mind of his.

It's called SepiaTown, and it's been a massive undertaking that he launched this past weekend.

Its scope is limited primarily to a few cities right now, but the idea is that eventually, anyone can see what their current location looked like in the days of yore. "Gee, I'm standing at the corner of East 9th Street and Broadway. I wonder what it looked like in 1910." Well, it looked like this.

SepiaTown is a "wiki," B&E readers, which means it relies on user-generated content. If you have old photos, go put them in there. If you know people with access to old photos, tell them to put them in there. The more people that get involved, the cooler the site becomes.

As one buddy said, Virgil has gone and "built a goddamned time machine."

You Left Out Your Biggest Enemy

2010-02-23T20:59:00.001-05:00

Steve King, Dickhead of the House from Iowa, says a lot of crazy, and occasionally gets called out on the crazy.

Steve King recently spoke at CPAC, the annual conference brought to you by the ever-reasonable American Conservative Union, which in spite of its obvious anti-union leanings has "union" in its name (branding issues!).

Anyway, Representative Steve King addressed the crowd and defined our enemies. He mentioned, of course, al-Qaeda and the Taliban. And by "al-Qaeda and the Taliban" I mean, "anyone who disagrees with Representative Steve King."

I want to define that enemy. They are: liberals; they are progressives; they are Che Guevareans, they are Castroites, they're socialists. More enemies on this list: Gramsciites -- ring anybody's bell? -- Trotskyites, Maoists, Stalinists, Leninists, Marxists. They're all our enemies.

Yes, well done. Half of America is your enemy, Steve King.

I could go on about how stupid Steve King is, but hell, I'm his enemy, so any cogent argument is easily dismissed by him and his supporters.

But photographs don't lie, Steve King. That comb-over isn't fooling anyone. I hate to break it to you: you're bald. And everyone knows it.

When it comes right down to it, you're just a bald Dickhead. And your enemy is testosterone.

Tiger's Leaked Statement!

2010-02-19T07:09:00.000-05:00

Well, B&E readers, if you're anything like me, you're pretty excited for Tiger Woods' first public statement later today. Have I got a treat for you! It's a leaked version of his statement! Who leaked it? I leaked it! How did I get my hands on it? It was never in my hands! It went right from my head to B&E!

So without further ado, here it is, Tiger Woods' leaked statement!

Hi. I'm Tiger Woods. I'm the best golfer of all-time. Arnold Palmer is a pussy. Tom Watson is a total fruitcake. And what is Lee Trevino, anyway? A Latino or Italian? Whatever. And don't even get me started on Phil Mickelson, that left-handed prick. Those guys can't golf. I golf. I'm a golfer. Those guys are just divots in the fairway of my life.

Anyway, I'm Tiger Fucking Woods. And not only do I golf, but I also make a lot of money. A lot. Tons of cash. Seriously. It's a lot of money. Dude, I have a deal with Chevron. It's a fucking oil company. They've got a lot of money too, and some of their money is going right to me. People say that Chevron pollutes and supports military dictatorships in Burma, but fuck those hippies. They're just jealous.

And they're not just jealous because I'm almost as rich as that chick who wrote those weird wizard books.

They're also jealous because I get women. Lots of women. One of them was my wife. I totally got her. Knocked her up too. She's Swedish. Which is hot. I mean, the country is cold but the chicks are hot.

But I didn't stop with her, just because I'm married. Oh, no. There are a lot of really hot women out there. A lot! And because I'm famous and gifted and richer than Dick Cheney, tons of those women totally throw themselves at me. And look, I don't want to be rude. If these chicks want to bang me, it's only right to give them the ride of their lives.

Oh, hell, you all know I'm not just banging these broads because I don't want to be rude. I like women. I really like women. Lots of women.

And I like watching other dudes with women. Especially that guy from Bones. I'd really like to see that guy with some women. Mm... Bones...

Anyway, I got caught. Boy, did I get caught. I was totally nailed. And not in the same way that I was nailing all those broads. That would've been a lot cooler, let me tell you. But no, that's not what I mean at all. I was totally busted.

What can I say? I'm the best golfer ever, rich as Nazis, and can get pretty much any woman I want. Who wouldn't take advantage of that?

So back off, media. Give me some goddamned privacy. Let me get on with my life - and get off with that hot chick over there.

I'm Tiger Fucking Woods.

It's a bold statement from Tiger Woods. He's got real moxie, this guy. Go get 'em, Tiger.

That Shit Was Already Expensive

2010-02-18T21:51:00.001-05:00

So this New York councilman has been indicted on corruption charges, and one little detail is getting a lot of attention.

Bronx councilman Larry Seabrook apparently doctored a receipt for a bagel and soda, so that instead of the original $7, it cost $177.

I've bought my share of bagels over the years, and I tell you what: I'm just as shocked by the $7 receipt as I am by the $177 doctoring of the receipt.

Even if he got a fancy shmear, that bagel shouldn't have been more than $3 (and indeed should have been closer to $2). And let's assume that he ran up the bill with a two-liter bottle of soda, rather than the 12 oz. can or 20 oz. bottle that most unhealthy people drink. Being really liberal with prices, the whole thing shouldn't have been even $6.

Councilman, you need to find yourself a better bagelry. You're being overcharged.

She Looks Good

2010-02-18T09:46:00.003-05:00

And nothing makes Kirsten Gillibrand look better to me than the continued horseshit coming from Harold Ford. Seriously, that guy is loathsome. Go fuck off, Harold, preferably in a state where you've paid taxes.

Mordant Has an Awesome Name

2010-02-16T07:11:00.001-05:00

It's that time again, B&E readers. I have recently received some terrific comments from some terrific readers, and I'm now sharing one of them with you.

Some of you may recall that when the missus and I visited Sweden a few years back, I had a few thoughts about the many Swedes with their many dreadlocks. Well, a fellow called Mordant, if that is indeed his name, took umbrage:

I don't usually post on blogs either and I live in Sweden and what you are talking is utter rubbish..You are a closeminded moron btw. And furthermore I have dreads and a doctorate, I don't see your point! What have you done lately to improve your society. You should go out and do some social work rather than write utter drivel on blog sites!

Well, Mordant, if that is indeed your name it is the most awesome name in the world. Oh, wait, excuse me, Mordant. You said you have a doctorate, so I should be calling you Dr. Mordant. Dr. Mordant, I apologize to you and your dreadlocks. I'm sorry to have insulted you, your dazzling intellect, and your style sense. Please forgive me my trespasses against your person, your higher degree, and your locks aplenty. And seriously, Dr. Mordant, I wish I had your name. It is awesome.

And as a point of clarification, Dr. Mordant. I don't write utter drivel on blog sites. I write utter drivel on MY blog site. Technically, you are the guest here. But hey, since you have the post-college degree and the tangled, matted hair, you can be as rude as you wish to be. On my blog. Please visit any time, Dr. Mordant.

Your name is awesome.

Our Meat Comes From What?!

2010-02-15T07:00:00.001-05:00

I'm a real fan of food. Like most progressive, professional, city-dwelling omnivores, I have a pretty good awareness of the food industrial complex, and I therefore attempt to avoid being a part of it, to varying degrees of success.

I've read Fast Food Nation and The Omnivore's Dilemma. I have not seen Food, Inc. but suspect I already know much of its content. I shop at farmers markets, prioritize local meats and veggies, and buy organically if local isn't an option.

All my rules tend to go right out the window when I go out to eat. I don't know where most restaurants source their foods. Although for Valentine's Day last night, the missus and I went to Marlow & Sons, a restaurant that sources its food locally, and our grass-fed sirloins were outstanding.

So yes, in general I believe in conscious eating. Which is why I was rather interested in this article. It's about a teacher at a school with a farm, who decided that it would be good to teach the children at the school about the food cycle by slaughtering one of the school's lambs. She got shit-canned. Which seems pretty fucking stupid to me.

The writer is clearly on the teacher's side. He has, in fact, taken his children to see the pig being butchered for their consumption. And he's been accused by Guardian readers of child abuse. Which also seems pretty fucking stupid to me. Jesus Christ, people. Meat is animals. Being removed from it makes it no less true.

I was sharing this article with a friend, and he sent me this link to Yorkshire Meats, where you "Eat Babe." It's brilliant. Choose a pig, adopt it, name it, visit it, and eat it. The whole process is transparent, and the pig gets a really happy life before it dies. And then you get a whole lot of pork. I seriously love this plan. And if I lived in a home with a freezer, I'd find the equivalent here in the US and do it.

This actually reminded me of what my family did for many years in Kansas. I was a kid and wasn't terribly curious about the whole process, but we split a cow every year with another family. A whole cow was slaughtered for two families. It was a lot of meat. Now, I don't know if the cow was treated kindly (maybe) or was fed grass (doubtful) or what, exactly. But I knew it was literally half a cow. And it lasted us a year.

This is how I want to eat meat now. I want to know that my cow or pig or chicken had a good life while it was alive, and then I want to eat that delicious cow or pig or chicken. I see no reason to separate ourselves from the process. Hell, if meat were more expensive, and if we were somehow more aware of how it's raised and killed, we'd probably eat a lot less of it. And that'd probably be a lot healthier for our nation of fat Americans with our overburdened healthcare system.

Don't Fuck With Robin Hood, Sheriff of Bankerham

2010-02-11T20:00:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, a friend in the UK posted a link to her Facebook page for a project she's involved with: The Robin Hood Tax. Go check it out. There's a nice little video featuring Bill Nighy as a douchey banker trying to explain why this tax is a bad idea. (It's not a bad idea, by the way.)

The short of it is that by taxing banks 0.05% on non-consumer speculative trading, billions of dollars could be raised for, well, good things for real people.

So this project launches yesterday and people can vote on whether or not they think it's a good idea. The broad assumption from the people involved is that most regular people will agree with the sentiments. Supporters invite their friends and they outnumber the people who think it's a bad idea.

Well, within hours, people who thought it was a bad idea were voting at the rate of six votes per second. The Robin Hood Tax people thought something was a little strange with this scenario, so they shut down the site for a while to investigate.

This morning, the computer team had traced the IP address for the rapid voter back to... shocker of all shockers... a Goldman Sachs office in London. Goldman Sachs says it's "investigating the matter fully."

My UK friend assures me that the Robin Hood Tax movement will be making its way to the United States before too long. I like simple, good, easy-to-understand ideas. Well done, coalition-of-UK-organizations.

We're a Nation of Snow Pussies

2010-02-10T20:35:00.000-05:00

I've been a little under the weather this week (See how I took the snow theme and turned it? That's just the sort of quality writing you've come to expect here at B&E!), so I've been working from home.

This morning I woke up feeling a bit better, but because last night the local news outlets were freaking out about the Blizzard of 2010, I opted to work from home again today, as did many of my fine colleagues.

I finally got a chance for a quick walk right around 5:00 PM.

Don't get me wrong: it was a good snow. It was not, however, a blizzard. Why the hell do we get so fucking crazy about a little snow? Was it seriously that big a deal?

Anyway, the city looks nice during a snow.

I love a Smart Car! Look at the Smart Car in the snow! I have to admit that it looks less Smart!

If you need to rest, take a load off on this snow sofa!

And our neighbors made a snowman! Right outside one of my favorite facades in Sunnyside!

Anyway, it was a fun snow.

Let's Not Overstate the Case

2010-02-08T19:01:00.000-05:00

Like most Americans, particularly the non-communist ones, I watched the Super Bowl last night.

I've fallen out of love with football (of the American sort) in recent years. Mostly, I just don't want to spend that much time watching sports. And as my six readers well know, I'm a baseball man.

Still, I have to admit that it was a damn fine game. I wasn't terribly invested in the outcome but had a slight leaning toward the Saints, so that felt satisfying.

And oh, the trickery! The Saints led off the second half with an onside kick, which was exciting and unexpected and momentum-shifting. A great play call.

One announcer described it as "courageous." A headline I saw this morning called it "valiant."

Okay, look... I'm all for adding juice to headlines to suck in a reader, but really? Courageous? Valiant? I can get behind bold, gutsy, even ballsy, but I'm not sure that it takes courage to call for an unexpected onside kick. I could get behind imaginative, creative, or exhilarating. But no, that play call was not valiant.

Anyway, somehow I missed the Tim Tebow ad. I don't know when it aired, but I plum missed it. And no, it doesn't take courage for Tim to be publicly pro-life (thanks again, David Zirin).

Back in September, Zirin wrote about homophobia in the NFL. Kudos, David, for using the word gutsy to describe a couple of players' stance in favor of gay marriage, rather than courageous or valiant.

Things are Fishy on Staten Island

2010-02-02T20:53:00.000-05:00

And I don't just mean the stench of the Fresh Kills Landfill!

Today is Groundhog Day (insert movie reference here). I watched the live coverage of Staten Island Chuck on NY1 this morning. Long-time B&E readers may remember previous mentions of Staten Island Chuck. He's New York's answer to Punxsutawney Phil, the notorious weather-predicting groundhog of Pennsylvania.

NY1 reports that in the past 29 February 2nds, Staten Island Chuck has been right 22 times, giving Chuck a better record than Phil over the same period.

Well, I had some observations of today's live coverage that makes me think the whole thing is rigged somehow.

First of all, on a separate but related matter, Staten Island Chuck might be a real dick. Last year he took a chunk out of Mayor Bloomberg's finger. This year Mayor Mike wore super-thick work gloves that I think were made of dragon hide.

Anyway, they tried to lure Chuck out, and we (the TV audience) waited. We waited quite some time. That groundhog wouldn't fucking come out. Finally, some brave mayoral aide (without gloves) reached into Chuck's little hut and yanked him out, handing him to the mayor, who nearly dropped him.

Chuck got fat.

And I'm sorry, but Mayor Mike didn't confer with Staten Island Chuck at all before announcing that Chuck didn't see his shadow.

Anyone watching could tell you that Chuck didn't want to come out of his hovel because he saw nothing BUT shadow. He was freaked the fuck out. And fat.

Meanwhile, in Punxsutawney, Phil saw his shadow. I didn't watch any live coverage, but Phil looked svelte (possibly starved, if you believe PETA, who would prefer that Phil be a robot), and a dude with a funny hat and Rollie Fingers mustache listened carefully to what Phil had to say.

I think I figured out what's going on. In Punxsutawney, they genuinely listen to what Phil has to say about the weather. He sees his shadow; he doesn't see his shadow. They trust Phil.

Staten Island is the most suspect of the five boroughs of New York City. Even people who live there don't really know what goes on there. I don't know if the whole Staten Island Chuck experience is bankrolled by the mob or what, but I have a feeling that the weather prediction is more about the number-runners and money-changers than the goddamned weather.

And it wouldn't surprise me one bit if somehow Mayor Mike is in on the fix. I don't know if he's consulting Poor Richard's Almanack or what, but I do know that he didn't bother to consult with that fat, angry groundhog.

It's suspect, B&E readers. It's fucking suspect.

This Is the State of the Union, Bitches

2010-01-29T22:07:00.000-05:00

No, I didn't watch the State of the Union address this week. Sure, I would've liked it more than the SOTU addresses of the past decade, but I just couldn't muster up the enthusiasm. Like anyone who follows politics, I've heard a thing or two about the speech - some positive, some negative.

I can tell you this, though... I'm very impressed by this transcript:

It is our duty now to begin to lay the plans and determine the strategy for the winning of a lasting peace and the establishment of an American standard of living higher than ever before known. We cannot be content, no matter how high that general standard of living may be, if some fraction of our people—whether it be one-third or one-fifth or one-tenth—is ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-housed, and insecure.

This Republic had its beginning, and grew to its present strength, under the protection of certain inalienable political rights—among them the right of free speech, free press, free worship, trial by jury, freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures. They were our rights to life and liberty.

As our nation has grown in size and stature, however—as our industrial economy expanded—these political rights proved inadequate to assure us equality in the pursuit of happiness.

We have come to a clear realization of the fact that true individual freedom cannot exist without economic security and independence. “Necessitous men are not free men.” People who are hungry and out of a job are the stuff of which dictatorships are made.

In our day these economic truths have become accepted as self-evident. We have accepted, so to speak, a second Bill of Rights under which a new basis of security and prosperity can be established for all—regardless of station, race, or creed.

Among these are:

The right to a useful and remunerative job in the industries or shops or farms or mines of the nation; The right to earn enough to provide adequate food and clothing and recreation;

The right of every farmer to raise and sell his products at a return which will give him and his family a decent living;

The right of every businessman, large and small, to trade in an atmosphere of freedom from unfair competition and domination by monopolies at home or abroad;

The right of every family to a decent home;

The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health;

The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment;

The right to a good education.

All of these rights spell security. And after this war is won we must be prepared to move forward, in the implementation of these rights, to new goals of human happiness and well-being.

America’s own rightful place in the world depends in large part upon how fully these and similar rights have been carried into practice for our citizens.

Those pretty words belong to Franklin Delano Roosevelt (he's the president in a wheelchair in the musical Annie), who delivered them as part of his State of the Union address in 1944.

It's generally referred to as the Economic Bill of Rights.

When he was campaigning for the presidency, Barack Obama did not seem like just another feckless weenie from the ranks of the Democratic Party. But when he uses his State of the Union address to discuss a spending freeze, well...

BHO is no FDR.

Putting the Dick in Dicktionary

2010-01-26T20:57:00.000-05:00

Pretty much everyone has, at one time or another, enjoyed the pastime of looking up dirty words in the dictionary.

One of my favorite discoveries in the 2nd grade (word was getting around the whole school, I'm pretty sure) was that the definition for fart in the library's dictionary read, "An explosion between the legs." Even at age seven, this sounded like an outlandish and ridiculous definition for fart. I wasn't literate enough in those days to know what the definition would be, but that just didn't seem right to me.

So like any good student, I looked it up. Sure enough, under fart: "An explosion between the legs." It was simultaneously hilarious and worrying, because even though it was in a book, it just didn't seem right.

Here it is thirty years later, and when I look up fart in my American Heritage Dictionary, the definition reads as follows:

fart (färt) Vulgar Slang intr.v. fart•ed, fart•ing, farts To expel intestinal gas through the anus; break wind. • n. 1. An often audible discharge of intestinal gas. 2. An annoying or fooling person.

There's still plenty in there to cause giggling, and it seems like a pretty accurate definition of fart.

So yes, I suppose I still enjoy looking up irreverent (maybe even dirty) words in the dictionary. It has a long history. When Samuel Johnson wrote the first dictionary and asked for royal patronage, he discovered that silly Prince George was only interested in looking up the rude words. (Black Adder is historically accurate, right?)

Still, some parents would rather that children look up nothing, rather than have the option to look up dirty words. A California school district has removed the Merriam-Webster dictionary from public school classrooms because one child looked up oral sex. Merriam-Webster's online dictionary has the definition as, "Oral stimulation of the genitals." My American Heritage Dictionary reads, "Sexual activity involving oral stimulation of one's partner's sex organs."

Those seem like perfectly good, accurate, to-the-point, if somewhat clinical, definitions of oral sex to me. But I guess accuracy doesn't necessarily keep something from being banned.

I am rather fond of one particular quote from the article linked above. A spokeswoman for the school district says, "It's hard to sit and read the dictionary, but we'll be looking to find other things of a graphic nature."

That is a job for which I'm truly qualified. Indeed, I'm probably over-qualified.

In researching this posting, I read definitions for fart and oral sex (of course), and also fellatio, and cunnilingus, just because. While in the C's, I was thrilled to find that my dictionary also has crack baby as an entry.

Gosh, dictionaries are fun.

Hey, Look Over There!

2010-01-25T07:01:00.002-05:00

While you, my six readers, wait for me to update B&E, I offer you a worthy distraction: Hedgehogs!

And if you want a look back at other hedgehogs, enjoy the hedgehogs of B&E old, dear readers.

Sure, I Have Thoughts

2010-01-20T21:14:00.002-05:00

Since you were wondering, and as long as everyone else is talking about it, I'll share a few thoughts about yesterday's vote in Massachusetts. I know why the Democratic candidate, Martha Coakley, lost to Republican Scott Brown.

The Democrats are feckless weenies. I don't care who you blame for the loss: Coakley, the Massachusetts Democratic Party, the Democratic National Committee, or the White House. Nothing but feckless weeniedom from top to bottom.

Headlines about "Upset of the Century" and "Stunning Defeat" only garner a "Really?" response from me. Who's surprised? What about the Democratic Party in the past 30 years (or more) has demonstrated anything other than a reliable ability to fuck up?

There are books to be written (and probably will be written) about why the Democratic Party has failed. Or is failing. Or continues to fail. Or continually fails. Maybe it's a loss of core values. Maybe it's the shift to the right. Maybe it's the vast quantity of cash taken from business interests. Maybe it's the constant compromise that makes people think the party doesn't actually stand for anything. Maybe it's simple weakness.

Ultimately, though, all of those reasons for its ongoing failure come down to the same thing: the Democrats are feckless weenies.

And if you need further proof of feckless weeniedom, just check out how they're responding to the loss: finger-pointing, steps back, further compromise, and total defeat.

Feckless weenies.

But if you want to cheer up, I was introduced to this blog today. I never know if I'm really late in discovering these things, but it's fun anyway. Oh, and look! The puppy cam is back!

Accents Have to Make Sense

2010-01-18T15:56:00.004-05:00

I have a love/hate relationship with the TV show 24. I keep giving it another chance, and it keeps letting me down. But hey, this season's in New York! So I've gotta see what that's all about.

But let me just say a word or two about accents as a dramatic choice.

I'm sure most of you have seen Schindler's List. The Nazis speak English with a German accent; the Poles speak English with a Polish accent. I remember when the movie came out, it took me some time getting used to that. I couldn't help but wonder why all of these people were speaking English with accents. But look, I get it: I mean, Spielberg wanted to get asses in seats too. So it's not like he was going to have all of the actors speaking German or Polish. He was already asking a lot of us by making us sit through a black and white movie.

Anyway, after a while, I slipped into the overall atmosphere of the film, and the accents were all a part of it. I got over my initial hangup and went with it.

In other movies or TV shows, there are characters for whom English isn't a first language. Let's take the current season of 24, a whole two episodes in. The president of an unnamed Islamic republic speaks to the US president in his accented English. But then when the foreign president speaks to his chief of staff, in this case his brother, they still speak English. I would think it might be a lot easier and, dare I say, more realistic if they spoke in their native tongue to each other.

But okay, it's TV. And let's face it: the typical viewer of 24 is lazy and meatheaded. So I get why they have the characters speak in accented English to each other. Fine. I can go with that too.

Then there are times that accents are used dramatically and it flies in the face of any sort of logic. This use of accents by writers or producers or directors or whomever makes this choice is stupid and dishonest.

Remember Die Hard? I think Die Hard is a total blast. Alan Rickman's performance of Hans Gruber as the German baddie is just terrific. Alan speaks the entire movie in a German accent. Except for one pivotal scene in which he comes face to face with Bruce Willis's John McClane. Pretending to be someone else, Hans Gruber puts on a perfect American accent. If this guy can speak English without an accent, why on earth does he have a German accent normally? It doesn't make sense, and it's a ridiculous flaw in an otherwise totally great movie.

They pulled that shit again in the first two episodes of 24. There's a bad guy speaking with a Russian accent throughout most of the first couple of hours. Then he meets up with a friend in Queens. (Queens!) And suddenly he's speaking in an American accent (with a hint of Queens even). But when he reveals himself to his "friends" as the baddie he really is, he goes back to the Russian accent. If he can speak perfectly fine English, why the fuck wouldn't he always speak perfectly fine English? It doesn't make any fucking sense! And it's stupid.

Dear Hollywood Accents Committee,
Stop being stupid.
Love,
Dan

It's a Giant Toy Train Set! Made of Plants!

2010-01-17T14:34:00.003-05:00

The missus and I took a trip to the New York Botanical Garden last weekend. Somehow we'd never been. I've been wanting to go see the annual Holiday Train Show for years, and we finally got our act together and got tickets for the final weekend.

There are a lot of families at the Botanical Garden. Especially unhappy ones, it seems. On a tram tour of the garden, we were joined in our row by a man with an empty stroller. He spent a whole lot of time yelling at his wife and kids, who were in another tram car. He was ordering them to sit down, commanding his wife to get control. He was a seriously miserable bastard. But that's okay because he was making up for it by causing misery in the whole family.

Even so, it was worth the crowds and the misery to check out the cityscape and toy trains. The cityscape is made completely of vegetation. It's wacky. And awesome.

And I bet you know what that means for you, B&E readers! That's right: PHOTOS!

This is a real train! In Queens!

Pretty, right?

This is a toy train! In the Bronx!

Cute, right?

Here are some skyscrapers! Based on the ones in midtown!

Cool, right?

This is a mini Yankee Stadium! Like the one in the Bronx!

Where the fuck are the Mets, right?

This is the Brooklyn Bridge! Brooklyn Bridge! Brooklyn Bridge!

Brooklyn Bridge, right?

This is the Guggenheim! From Men in Black! And The International!

Frank Lloyd, Wright?

Gosh, it was all very impressive! We may even go back again next year! Good idea, right?

The Hope of a New Season

2010-01-14T21:20:00.000-05:00

The thing that's just terrific about baseball is that hope springs eternal. So your team failed (as usual) this year. It doesn't matter. February rolls around, you hear the magical words, "pitchers & catchers," and your team has the potential to be the best in the league, just like every other team.

Oh, unless you're the 2010 New York Metropolitans. Nope. They don't have that potential.

We're still a month from the kickoff of spring training, and the team's superstar centerfielder, Carlos Beltran -- who gets paid a whopping $119 million, who has decided without the team's agreement to have knee surgery, and who (apropos of nothing) has always had some sort of weird growth on the side of his head -- won't even be in the Mets lineup until May.

Yes, indeed. The Mets will once again be terrible. Yay.

Since it was first announced a couple of years ago, I've been rather annoyed by the Mets' partnership with Citigroup, which resulted in the naming rights to the new stadium. Citi Field. Blech. I mean, why would a such a stellar baseball organization want to be associated with an insolvent financial institution that's been so eager to keep sucking at the teat of the federal government?

But now the Mets seem determined to live up to the stunningly high standards of Citigroup itself. I sincerely wish it didn't make so much sense.

Let's go, Mets! Let's go, Mets! Let's go, Mets!

Oy.

Anyway, here's the second of the tasty Egyptian footballers, a fella called Gomaa, also courtesy of blondandeffective, for you non-baseball fans. Enjoy!

Harold Ford Can Suck It

2010-01-13T20:13:00.001-05:00

Like most New Yorkers I don't have much of an opinion of Kirsten Gillibrand, our appointed Senator. But after reading this interview with Harold Ford, who's making strange noises about running against her in the primary, I'm starting to like her a lot more.

Seriously, dude. There are so many things wrong with your pompous answers to these questions, I'm not sure you should hold any job in New York...

You've been to all five boroughs by fucking helicopter?
You're like totally best friends with the Giants owner?
You totally scored a lunch with the Jets owner?
You're buying into a corporate box at Yankee Stadium?
You take a fucking cab to work every day?
Oh, except for most days, when NBC sends a car to get you?
Is there an issue you haven't flipped on since coming to NYC?
And...
You don't shoot children??

Harold, dude... What the fuck is wrong with you?