The Angry Side of Funny

My early friends (and family) didn't have much of an edge, so my comedy upbringing was fairly limited. Lenny Bruce and Richard Pryor didn't get much play among my people. We got a little Bill Cosby from time to time and a touch of Robert Klein.

And somehow George Carlin sneaked in there. He had the silly stuff that I liked (I remember him talking about drowning Rice Krispies with whole peaches) and the political commentary that my parents appreciated (and that I appreciated later).

One of his albums (and I can't even tell you which one) was on constant play in my college social circle, and it got funnier with every play somehow. His social commentary was razor-sharp. And he was angry, which helped him keep an edge. He stopped talking to my parents and spoke to me.

My dad lamented that Carlin got "too angry" and therefore wasn't funny. But for me his comedy was a welcome coping mechanism for all of the social ills that seemed (and seem) so fucking unfair. And Carlin, the self-described "disappointed idealist," turned that unfairness into biting humor. It was very funny. My dad, for all of his wonderful qualities, didn't handle anger (even funny anger) very well.

I found myself the target of his routine once. He was railing against white dudes who shave their heads. Guilty as charged. I disagreed, of course, but it was still funny.

So no, I didn't much care for waking up this morning to the news that George Carlin died. He was bald (even with a ponytail). And he was very effective.

New Yorkers Are Fat

A couple of weeks ago, a court upheld a law that required chain restaurants to display their calorie counts in New York City stores. Apparently, half of New Yorkers are fat. So now when we go to McDonald's we can order the low-calorie item, whatever it may be. I don't know... Diet Coke?

Obviously, most of these restaurants are against posting such information on their displays, and they have until June 3 to comply before the fines start coming.

Chipotle and Starbucks have already posted their calorie counts. I tend to walk a couple of extra blocks for my afternoon coffee, rather than go to the Starbucks immediately across from my office. But today was a rainy, shitty day, and I was in a hurry to get back to the office for a meeting. (If I need another excuse, I'm sure I can come up with one.)

Anyway, it was the first time I saw the calorie postings. I tell you: that shit is effective. I mean, I wasn't going to get a snack anyway, but when I saw that their Crispy Rice Square (the Starbucks' equivalent to the Rice Krispy Treat) was 450 calories, it really made me not want to eat it even more.

I felt a lot thinner today having not eaten the Starbucks food. Then I had a crumpet with peanut butter and maple syrup for dessert tonight. Delicious.

Yeah, It's a Problem

We've got this terrific coffeeshop (a.k.a. greasy spoon, diner, etc.) here in Sunnyside called the New Post. There was a murder inside a couple years ago, but other than that minor hiccup, the New Post has reliably (and safely) served me omelets, French toast, tuna melts, and fries for the past eight years.

These coffeeshops, like old school dive bars, are becoming rarer and rarer across New York City as development rips down the old and puts up the new. Plus, a breakfast that costs $3.50 struggles to cover rising rent costs as readily as a brunch that costs $15.00.

Fortunately, it appears that the New Post is still going strong, even with the new Pete's Grill down the block. Pete's has a classic Greek diner feel to it, which probably only means something to people who frequent diners in NYC. The New Post is a counter-and-booth affair. Pete's is fine (and a couple bucks more expensive), but my heart belongs to the New Post.

Except for one thing: the New Post currently employs the Worst Waitress Ever. I know a couple that will actually say they're not ready yet when she comes to take their order and wait for the other waitress. The Worst Waitress Ever is a little dirty (I've seen her wiping her nose with her hand), and she always - ALWAYS - gets something wrong. When ordering you can tell she's not paying attention. She asks you to repeat things, and she still gets it wrong. It's seriously troubling.

This weekend, the New Post had a third waitress in there. She seemed to be in training, or maybe she was just standing around. Two waitresses would really be plenty if not for the Worst Waitress Ever.

The missus whispered to me, "I think it's her daughter!" Sure enough. When the New Girl came to fill up our coffee, I could see a distinct physical resemblance. When she filled up our cups too high to add milk, it was clear: The New Girl's a chip off the old block.

The New Post is a well-oiled machine. The short order cook might be a genius, and everything happening behind the counter and in the kitchen is a picture of efficiency. In fact, the Worst Waitress Ever forgot to bring us our food, and one of the guys behind the counter brought it out for us. Those guys (I think a lot of them are brothers) work their asses off and make the whole experience very pleasant.

Then there's the Worst Waitress Ever. And now her daughter. They scare me.

I'm Surprised by Some of Obama's Posters

Barack Obama should perhaps begin exploring a broader range of visuals, but I don't mind telling you that I'm rather tickled his messaging is so B&E focused. And yet each poster speaks to the qualities that makes a good president.

This one, for example, keeps it simple, but I appreciate the respect. See? He's not bigoted!


My, oh, my, Obama. Truer words were never said. See? He's got impeccable taste!


And even while on the campaign trail, Barack has had a chance to keep up with recent postings. See? He can multi-task!


I'm still reeling from last year's spectacular Mets meltdown, but Obama gives me hope for the upcoming season. See? Optimism!


Those little hedgehogs in the UK have clearly made an impression on Barack. See? He's got heart and cares about the environment!


If Obama wins the election, I'm hoping we'll see a little less from the Dickheads. See? He can stand his ground when he has to!


Yes, sir. Yes. Sir. See? Yessir.