I don't like watching sports, at all. Background human interest:


In high school my best friend and I thought about what makes sports so popular. And, like most things, we determined it was fantastical violence. And so, we set out to create the most dangerous, violent sport.

It began by trying to get a ball from one side of the court to the other. Simple enough. You would have to run up step ladders and jump off the top, hurl yourself over fields of saw horses, climb up a tree and jump to its neighbor. All the while your opponent tries to hit you with a stick, hard, very hard. Contact me if you want to buy a local franchise for a "Super Danger Future Ball" team.

And now, the Sabers.

Tonight begins the play offs. A time it is dangerous to not only be a fan of an opposing team, but equally dangerous to not be enthusiastically a Sabers fan.

And so, with ice pack ready, I must march into the maelstrom and show some love for our team (All Buffalonians exempt from giving a damn about the Bills). But it is incredibly easy to do so. I don't need to watch a game to know the score of a game. I need only listen to the screams and cheers that pour out of the Elmwood bars. If I was knoced into a coma during the game I can know who won by how many cars are honking.

If we lose? Ah, well then I can look for broken beer bottles all along the streets and sidewalks. Much fun when you walk a dog. Thank you dicks. Suck it up.

But, one thing is clear, for as long as the Sabers are in the play offs the city is going to buzz with overwhelming, singular Sabers energy. It makes it tough for someone like me, who could care less about any sports team, to not feel a glimmer of hope and pride.

And if you repeat that with anyone I challenge you to a game of Super Danger Future Ball.

Folks,

I have been reading craig's list incessantly for the past week. It has been a slow week, what can I say. The M4W ads will some day in the future be considered the highest form of literature, leaving poetry and the novel in it's terrible wake.

But then, it happened.

I saw an ad that could only have been writen by a younger version of me.

"I am a computer geek as well, and I play D&D. I am a pretty good listener, and will put up with a lot. I am a nice guy, but I do have a breaking point. I only seek meaningful relationships, and sexual activity means very little to me. I am looking for a girl with a nice personality, decent looks and a bit of geekiness.Whether she just likes to read, or she is a full blown computer nut, some kind of geek girl would be great."

Oh yes. It is horrible to have the mirror put to yourself and discover that you have been a Medusa all along.

Well, I no longer play D&D.
I never dated girls (nothing personal ladies)
and sexual activity means a good deal to me

But man, at age 17? Roll that 3D6 to determine your social awkwardness.

Thankfully, there are thousands of other ads written seemingly by married men who's brains are nulled by the syphilis eating them. And I can go about my casual reading unreflectivly. But always knowing at home is a giant bag full of dice buried in a mound of sex toys.

I have never seen this movie. Which makes me the only gay guy in this or any universe who has not had a hard on for Audrey Hepburn. And I am happy to be flaccid before her image. And while watching, sans boner, I couldn't help be think to myself.
"Boy, the love interest couldn't be gayer." He screams big homo. A writer in New York who is payed to have sex with an older patron? Ya, I am sure Truman Capote wasn't writing his fat pansy ass into that role. Replace older married woman with a closeted married homo and two and two equals four.
I had to ask, were people in the early 60's dumb enough to fall for this? I haven't seen this overtly gay a character since I watched "Gang-Bang Street Trade 3" earlier this evening. The characters in that one were much more sympathetic by the way.
I find Capote's prose to be effective. It is stylish and overwrought enough to be charming. But have a hack screenwriter make a script out of the novel (which I have not read, I can only comment about some of his shorter, latter pieces) and suddenly a dim whited child is flailing about a canister of film better used for "Gang-Bang Street Trade 4: Prussian Gushers".

And seriously, Henry Manccini? Are you listening in hell? Writing one song and rearranging it for two fucking hours is no way to write a score. Sure, it was a lovely song. But Christ man, Christ!

On the bright side, the trained cat kicked ass. I didn't think you could even train cats to do anything other than piss you off and shoot dander everywhere.

We Buffalonians love nothing more than to worship spring,

The rites of spring begin on the first day it is over 45 degrees. Our puffy coats with faux fur hoods slip off and we expose our pail skin to the sun, drastically increasing the earths albedo. Even now, there are sunbathers wallowing on their blankets over the muddy fields of Delaware park, waiting for the sun to slip through the constant cloud cover.

Yesterday afternoon I saw a sun worshiper par excellence. At 5:30 a woman was walking up Delaware ave amid rush hour traffic, without a scrap of cloths on her, licking a lollipop as she goes.

I just hope she looked both ways before crossing.

have a swell day kids,

-James

I hate spring,

In a town that spends 4-5 months clasped in the icey womb of winter that is blasphemy. Even now mobs with torches and pitch forks are gathering out my window. Ready to storm my citadel of nay-saying-springhood.

It wasn't always that way. Spring would mean all the obvious things that we enjoy spring for. Namely warmth and sun: two precious commodities you would sell your mother's eyes for in January. Things changed though when I got a dog. Spring now means two very different things: Stupid bunnies and stupid squirrel

You see, in Winter's death throws these cute little mammals get their freak on and pop out little bunnies and squirrels for the world to consume. The smart ones live. The dumb ones though must die. They must all die.

When I am walking my dog he will spot a bunny a block away and begin pulling, choking himself on his leash yet propelled by the force of his lust for bunny meat; which, by the way, he has never tasted. When the momment comes when the bunny or squirrel will realize the dog is onto him he will hop three feet away and stop, look behind him, and stay.

The dog is pulling like a tractor but is not moving any closer. So the squirrel or bunny things "he isn't getting any nearer, he must not see me" and remain.

The great tragedy of all this is no dog gets to these animals. Their stupidity is allowed to go on and mix with the gene pool. Ensuring countless future generations of animals I would rather not be.

Our only hope is they forage in traffic.

Flickr, oh Flickr!

She was the first web 2.0 community driven content site I really got involved when, and she stole my heart. I started off in the local Buffalo group started by the enigmatic (e:Jim). It still is a fun group with really good people in it. And then the Reds came for me!

I have always had an academic interest in Russia. I am have always had a personal interest in Soviet aesthetics. It isn't the oddest of hobbies, but it isn't exactly a national past time either. But let me tell you how funly awesome these groups are:

Soviet States
is all about former Soviet nations, and the ruins of the former soviet regimes. If you love the color grey, you will weep tears of joy!

Political Art - Socialist Realism Did you know that in real life Joseph Stalin was a bald dwarf? It is true, but through this school of realism the warts and all style of realism looks more like idealism. Check out the statures of Soviet's nobly sacrificing material gain for the betterment of the people. It makes you weep artificial tears.

My Happy Soviet Childhood has scores of soviet kids smiling. Hey comrade Billy, if you act as an informant on the states case against your father's patriotism we will send you to summer camp. Oh Boy!

my favorite

The Red Menace Sure, it doesn't have Soviet stuff, but crazy American propaganda dealing with Soviet Stuff. It is the sort of thing that makes you wonder how many different ways can Lenin be depicted as an octopus mangling the globe.

But why love them so much? Because I can waste at least an hour while at work looking at these oddities.

enjoy kids

Seriously, WTF?


Our soon to be old apartment is right on Delaware near Children's Hospital. Ambulance, fire trucks, and popo have been driving up and down, sirens blaring, all day. Has some large building caught fire? Has Zombie McKinley been shot by yet another anarchist?

I do a google news search and all I get is some ex-Bills couch complaining about Buffalo's "lack of women and preponderance of Applebee's like restaurants" which would be the case if you were a closeted homosexual living in Orchard Park.

Has anyone seen an ambassador stabbed? Has Kuni's been serving human all along? I need to know! I need to know!

Kids,

I was excited about the John Edwards press conference today. Not looking forward to him dropping out, but excited to hear what had to be said and neurotically move on with this fantasy football game of primaries. When I heard about it, I had a date. Noon. Don't be late.

So here I am at work. Ten minutes prior I turn on the NPR webcast. They had live coverage of it. Someone there in the room looking at an empty podium.

So, just as things are about to start they cut to a very important announcement. Yes, it is that time for their quarterly beg-a-thon.

I love NPR because they have up to the minute coverage of breaking news.

They have coverage of what you think is important.

If you got this news elsewhere you would have to wait until tomorrow for the newspaper.

This is what they told me. Convincing me that my dollars are important to ensure that I don't miss anything. All the while missing the only news item I cared about that day.

This is irony. Slaves groveling at your feet and licking your boot is great, accept when you are trying to walk somewhere. And you, NPR, are in my way.



The good news is the UN secretary general was having a news conference in Iraq when it was hit by a mortar. No one is hurt, but the building shook and it is on tape. How awesome is that?

Awesome,

It pays to know people who know other people. It makes up for what ever social deficiency one might have. One, in this case, refers to me, who has the social grace of an elephant on roller skates doing blow off a gazelle's ass. It is all a metaphor that works astonishingly well. Go on, be astonished.

But we found a new place to live. We will be on Ashland between Bird and Potomac. Our landlords are super awesome. They called us to ask if we wanted new carpet or new windows. Crazy madmen, being so nice.

The nice thing about renting from humans and not some faceless slumlord company is that are reasonable people. For the same rent we are moving from a 1 bedroom to a 3 bedroom with parking and a yard. A yard for the Ben! He will also have puppy friends to play with. Super +1 happy! So life has returned to goodness and honey.


Thanks to MPT for the kick ass party last night. I will do my best to not be jealous of your dream house. A home who's splendors rival all others.

happy hangover everyone.

-James

Ya know,

How hard is it to find an apartment that allows dogs? Before you struggle to speak the obvious answer to my question allow me to lecture for a moment on this topic. I like to pontificate, it pleases my mother as it is the closest I will ever get to being a priest.

It is damn hard. Damn, damnably, damn hard. Harder than a closet case in a high school locker room. I understand it is a hassle. Dogs bark, poop, and their owners puppy talk and poop (though where they are supposed to usually) and it is just a mess requiring hosing and a strong stomach.

But then, most places wont allow dogs but they will allow smokers who can stain walls faster than a gin soaked hobo. They will allow gamers who will mound up roach filled bags of cheetos while in the middle of a very important world of warcraft raid. They will allow people with no taste to paint. I swear, there are dozens of shades of red people paint their walls and only two don't resemble the shade of a hookers lips (you decide which set).

Then, their is the weight limit. Many places have a 20lb weight limit. And really, at that unsubstantial point don't you just have a fat cat too dumb to use a litter box?

Now, our dog is big. 110lb. But you will not find a lazier dog. Worried about your wainscoting from being chewed up? Not to worry, our dog is passed out from his exhausting crotch licking session this morning. He is sleeping it off. Little dogs can be vicious little bastards. They can be because it is tough for them to kill their master. Big dogs could eat your face if they wanted to. But those were weeded out of the gene pool pretty fast. It is called domestication. You land lords should look it up. It is the same thing that gives us eggs, milk, and fois gras.

All I am asking, cosmos, dear reader, is to find an apartment that will accept a dog who wont do anything and owners who will do everything. Ya know, responsible people who have an eye for that certain shade of red.

see you all tomorrow,

-James