IT’S SUMMER, AND THE SKY SMELLS LIKE TRASH. One of the few downsides of living in New York City is the ubiquity of trash in everyday life. Walking out of work on this warm, moist summer night, the sky smelled like trash. The gentle breeze reeked of refuse. The hot gust from the subway entrance, like urine. The sticky subway car, like an armpit. In February, it’s a winter wonderland of garbage bags and beer bottle snow cones. In October, newspapers and used napkins mingle with the drifting brown and yellow leaves. Ah, the changing of the seasons! Still, it’s better than the empty, unrelenting prettiness of partly cloudy, bone chilling San Francisco — an experience that a coworker accurately described as, “Like the worst day of Spring every day of the year.” I’ll take the stink and grime over that, that’s for sure.
FROM NOW ON, I shall evaluate the loyalty of my friends based on whether they would back me up in a knife fight. This includes the girls. This is how it works. If this friend and I were, say, stuck on a prison planet and one of the other inmates started picking on me to the point where shivs were drawn and ready, would this so-called friend stand with me and make sure I didn’t get jumped from behind? (Friend.) Or would he/she skulk in the shadows and pretend not to know me? (Not friend.) It’s just something that occurred to me. And, I think, it’s the only way to be sure.
INAUGARATION DAY and here we go again. The one bright spot – JibJab and their Monty Python-esque little balls of Flash fun. Sure, I laugh because it’s wacky and goofy, but I also think it might be one of the most impressive uses of Flash animation yet. Not because of its technical sophistication, but because it’s able to create its own aesthetic – instead of just passing as a poor man’s cell animation or a slightly more ambitious Sunday funny. (Likewise, this Radiohead video is also very good.)
LOOK, UP IN THE SKY. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s a pig. Lots of pigs. Or maybe locusts. Unbelievable.
JON STEWART BROKE MY TV. It’s easy to forget you live in a big machine . . . until someone lays the smack-down on a couple of the cogs. For more in-depth analysis, some guy at Salon.
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A PATS FAN. I wonder, did Sisyphus also have legions of fans back in Greece cheering him on with insanity-laced futile devotion? This is it, Sisyphus! This is the year! You’ve really got that rock beat this time!
OUR FEARLESS LEADER. It would be much funnier if it wasn’t so damn scary. Other surreal points of interest: YouForgotPoland.com, OffroadDieselEngineEmissions.com.
IF CAPES WERE FASHIONABLE … Jean jackets, bell bottoms, Polo shirts with the collars flipped up, mandals — they all successfully crossed over to this side of acceptable. So why not capes? Think of all the colors, fabrics and styles that could stock the racks of Barney’s, The French Connection, J.Crew and Urban Outfitters. With nearly limitless design potential, they’re unisex to boot. The fashionistas, the metrosexuals, the bling crowd and just about everyone in-between could get in on the action. And I could wear one, too — joining the caped ranks of the stylish, the hip and the cool — all the while secretly pretending to be Superman.
REPUBLICANS IN THE WORKPLACE. It’s not that I’m opposed. I’m just surprised. After all, when people spend many long days together doing about the same things as each other, it’s easy to assume that you might also share many of the same views and attitudes toward the world at large. And then one day, one of you realizes the other is an alien species. Well, I guess it’s not illegal. So what are you going to do? [20MB, ctrl-click or right-click link and save to disk.]