The deal with Sinclair broadcasting is done. Time Warner and Sinclair got their respective shit together so Homer, Jack Bauer, et al. are all staying put. This was a nationwide thing. Los Angeles was sweating losing their ABC affiliate. The whole thing was that Sinclair didn't like the existing arrangement. That being we put Fox and My TV commercials on the cable channels like we do for 2,4, and 7. Their argument being that since more people watch 24 than watch Trading Spaces, the cable company should pay a fee since a fee gets paid to TLC for Trading Spaces. This whole scenario was playing out in all the former Adelphia areas, but it's done now. And the clerk at Spot who saw my Time Warner dog tags yesterday can now shut his pie-hole.

Elsewhere, I was running some errands before work yesterday and saw the moving trucks in front of the Albright Knox yesterday. Couldn't tell if they were moving out or in, but the whole thing is troublesome. What the gallery is giving up ain't coming back. Is what is coming that valuable that a priceless collection needs forever compromised? I don't think so. You could make the argument that if the operating budget couldn't permit the purchases, maybe they shouldn't be buying. Guess that makes too much sense.

Hope all the snowbirds are happy. Side effect of the late starting snow is that all the plow guys are too. I took my car for an oil change yesterday at the Valvoline place on Delaware and nearly didn't make it. The entrance has a pretty steep incline and I had to slalom my way up to make the garage door without falling back to Delaware.

Domestic responsibilities made it impossible to get to the party, but Happy Birthday anyhoo (e:Paul) . Hope a grand time was had.

I've yet to meet (e:joshua) in person but I trust his beer judgement implicitly. Got some Tetley's from TOPS and it rocks.

Bastards! sniff
And then my phone rang....warm fuzzy

In news that matters to well.....me, I can't get to the latest PMT fest which is a bit of a downer. I seem to be in an every other party mode which I suppose is better than nothing. The monk's life is not for me. I have found that if you leave your apartment periodically, you might (gasp) meet other humans and interact with them. Boggles the mind it does.

I am sorry I'll miss it. The NYE party was like a irish wedding: beautiful women, flame retardant frocks, bumfuzzled men (wait that was just me) and drinks a flowing.

I'm remember turning 30, the early 90s were a different time and my hair was a different color.

Happy Birthday, Paul. My fellow aquarian. I'll be celebrating my 13th anniversary of turning 30 in a couple of weeks. Have a great day, good sir.

Tim Robbins picks out the wrong record. Make me chuckle and wish I was better with audio software.

Third straight Sunday, I made it back to church. Couldn't tell you if anything happened. Work is so preoccupying little vignettes started playing out in my head about what is to come in the next week or so in cable land. There is the distinct possibility that I'll get a chance to interview for my former post (If life was fair, it should just be given to me, but we all know about life). I'd like to do those things again, but it would be with a juandiced eye toward some of the collaborators. I thought there were tight friendships there, but that was only partially the case. Two women I worked with are fine. The rest of the staff there subscribe to the "If you are in the room, you get to play, if not, we don't know you" school.

The whole experience has left me professionally frustrated and socially retarded. There's no shortage of people willing to lecture you at work, but a dearth of people intrested in just helping out. This all came to me this morning. I'm standing the church hall, not mixing with anybody because I'm full for the work folly and it remains a hot topic.

Frustrating thing being is that I thought I was home. Good job and good reviews for doing the job. Now, I look to how I'm getting used and abused and thinking thank fuck for the decent health insurance. Guess I'm resenting how what should be what you do for eight hours a day is seeping beyond that eight hours when it doesn't deserve too.

There, got that off my chest.

Fun going bargain hunting at Borders yesterday. Took the youngins and we sought out new literature. Martin Amis for me, Traveling Pants for darling moody middle child, and Batman for Number one Son. The promise of expanding intellectuallism seemed worthy of a reward at Krispy Kreme. I stopped at coffee, can't abide their bake goods these days. Kids took up my slack. Good kids.

No doubt you have noticed the unimaginative, repetitive use of
four-letter words in modern insults. In an effort to stimulate cells in the Wit Area of the brain, I am sending some examples from previous eras, when substantive human beings used the English language to skewer, gut and vanquish the objects of
their various venomous vexations.

In other words, for when a hearty "fuck off" just doesn't seem right, I present...

"A modest little person, with much to be modest about."
-- Winston Churchill

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with
great pleasure."
-- Clarence Darrow

"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time
reading it."
-- Moses Hadas

"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it."
-- Groucho Marx

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I
approved of it."
-- Mark Twain

"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play, bring
a friend...if you have one."
-- George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill

"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second...if there
is one."
-- Winston Churchill, in response

"I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here."
-- Stephen Bishop

"He is a self-made man and worships his creator."
-- John Bright

"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing
trivial."
-- Irvin S. Cobb

"He had delusions of adequacy."
-- Walter Kerr

"He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by diligent hard work, he overcame them."
-- James Reston (about Richard Nixon)

"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily."
-- Charles, Count Talleyrand

"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him."
-- Forrest Tucker

"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork."
-- Mae West

"Some cause happiness wherever the y go; others, whenever they go."
-- Oscar Wilde

"He has Van Gogh's ear for music."
-- Billy Wilder

Lady Astor: If you were my husband I'd give you a poisoned drink.
Winston: If I were your husband I'd drink it!
Lady Astor: We should have a child. Imagine a child with my looks
and your brains.
Winston: My fear my good lady is the child would have my looks and your brains!

Something is on the horizon.....

I had to deal with a promotion we ran with the Tennis Channel late last year. One of the prizes that was to be given away was a trip to the Australian open to some lucky viewer. Because of legal and ethical dilemmas, we couldn't do it. I got a note today that as a thank you, the Tennis Channel is going to send a case of Mcwilliams Australian Wine (good stuff) to my attention to arrive next week sometime.

That's pretty fucking awesome of them.

Suddenly it got easier to laugh at the current round of inanties

Working for a communications collassus like I do, I can't help but marvel at my state of the art 1998 computer. Ever since I've been there, there has been a web filter to keep you from going to "subversive" sites. The joke is that you get this screen filling ominous warning that when you first see it, you're convinced the web cops are coming.

I think it sets off a light at our data center that if nobody's watching, nobody cares. I was researching a prize wheel once and got busted for "Gambling." If you go to my space, you get busted for "Nudity." The logic is there is no real logic. The warnings got strangely toned down with the take over, but it managed to block a truly "dangerous" site today.




Can't have that spoiling the corporate landcape.

It was truly weird. Usually packed with domestic and professional obligations, I had an afternoon off from everything. With camera in hand, I headed down West Ferry until you run out of West Ferry and are on the Bird Island Pier.

The place has all the ambience of a crime scene and features the snack bar at the end of the universe, but I like walking the pier because of the renewed perspective it can give you. Bear in mind, I don't have (e:Matthew) 's eye (or his camera) or (e:Metalpeter) 's tenacity, but I got some decent pics despite my shortcomings.


Graffiti folks in search of a better world.

A couple of ducks shooting the rapids

The Peace Bridge underside

What's up with barbed wire and fencing on one side and nothing on the other.

The ovaltine colored water



Blame Canada!

These folks declared their love in about six places. Either Fred had some lil blue pills or somebody was overcompensating for something.

Think a swimmer left it behind?

Rats with wings.....

The view from the end, before the long track back to the car....huff..puff

Made you look.

Santa both secret and otherwise smiled upon me this past holiday season and the final straggler came in over the weekend from my younger sister. In the past week, I've come into a wide variety from the new Ipod to a painting of "Sunday in the Park" redone with Simpsons Characters to a NunChuck (a small pistol that will shoot little nun figures to distances that cover the diameter of the dispatch department of Time Warner) to the aforementioned chinese massage balls (they are doing wonders for my pending carpal tunnel).

Anyhoo, my sister couldn't get home due to professional committments in NYC, but she is feeling decidely sillier this year. She offered up some Mets garb and a keychain labeled (I kid you not) "Mr T. in a box." Six different catch phrases at the touch of a button.

I tossed the key chain in a jacket pocket without much though till this morning. Around 8:30, I stopped by the Allentown Trading Company for a paper and while the gentleman in front of me was paying for his purchases, Mr. T woke up. Out of a clear silence was heard, "Don't give me any more of your jibjab, sucka!"

Needless to say, the gentleman turned and looked at me with some skeptical amusement. I (doing my best to keep a straightface) turned and looked at the guy behind me (in a lame attempt to pass the buck).

Lasted all of a minute before we all broke up. Comedy relief at the ATC, I'm sure they will overprice it if given half a chance.