Still want that blue suit?

Yeah, button up that collar. Suck in that gut. Tuck in them big black lips. Lighten your skin. Shrink up that nose. Let me tell you something, boy. You can march like the white man. You can talk like 'em. You can learn his songs. You can even wear his suits. But you ain't never gonna be nothin' to him but an ugly-ass chimp in a blue suit. So the white man give you a couple of stripes next thing you know, you hollerin' and orderin' everybody around like you the massa himself. Nigger, you ain't nothing but the white man's dog.

from Glory (1989)

With the downturn in the economy, and the scarcity of employment, I have been minding my p’s and q’s at the job. Gone are the days of trawling the net or flapping my grape for hours on end. I no longer have a lackadaisical attitude towards my work and I take very seriously the completion of any tasks that are assigned to me. I am no longer satisfied with the all too common result of having my work product blocked or corrupted by the myriad of on-payroll masons who immediately build a wall whenever some goal of mine is close to being accomplished. I try as hard as I can to eliminate as much as possible any third party involvement in my cubicle dwelling day. In fact, my only real rest time during the day is when I’m deucing.

Unfortunately, what my new spirit of production leads to is long hours at the office as well as bleary-eyed early morning and late-night subway rides. After spending a full day staring at computer screens, standing over copiers and organizing and reorganizing paper files, I some times do not have the energy to open whatever book I am reading at the time. There have been many a sojourn as of late when I just sit and stare into space, catching glimpses of the other tired commuters or the ever more frequently sighted lunatic shouting obscenities or singing to themselves very loudly filling the train with jaw droppingly offensive rap lyrics or just looking generally menacing. It is in these grey moments of consciousness, those times when I am no where near asleep but am not quite awake, that I feel as if I’m in a time warp. The sleaziness of the whole experience brings me back to my youth and a pre-Disnified City. A time when the bowels of the MTA felt like three AM all day.

The other day on the one train I actually saw someone wearing a three-fingered ring!

Along with the hooligans, junkies and freaks to stare at as you barrel through the underground one of the other sights caught in my mescaline-like vision during these rides are the abundant advertising that papers the inside of the cars. The posters are probably one foot high by three feet long, connected in a row. The row of pictures is then hung along a curvature between the wall and the ceiling which runs along the length of the car. Next to every door is a three by three square displaying another poster. Usually one entity purchases one side of the car, creating a block of pictures relating to one thing. The more clever companies/agencies create a running theme from 3 feet ad to 3 feet ad that tells a little story which is tied together by the big square by the door. The theory being that the straphanger, who is naturally looking up in this situation, can read the cute little things up top and then finally figure out what it is all about at the end and say to himself “Oh, how entertaining” and maybe, just maybe, remember the product in the future.

For example:

The first 3x1 can say in simple block text in front of a solid blue background, “Wouldn’t you rather be…” Then the next panel, in the same form, says, “If only your commute was this good…” and finally on a third tile, “Tired of reading a paper over someone’s shoulder?” As your eyes follow these three phrases from left to right they are funneled towards a 3x3 picture by the door of a bikini clad woman with a rack out to here and an ass out to there saying “Come to Bermuda” in bold type right below her crotch.

The same advertising formula can also be used for Michelob.

I assume that most urban centers have similar trains. Be it Paris, Tokyo, Moscow or St. Louis, when one rides a Metro, I imagine that one is subjected to commercials.

Which leads me to the point of this post. A few weeks ago, during one of my aforementioned zone-outs, I came across this particular piece of advertising. At first it gnawed at my sense of taste but nothing major and forgotten within seconds. But after being subjected to it five or six times since I feel it is worthy of at least a comment. And then after I sat down to write this I realized there was even much more than I thought. And after even further thought I actually think that this ad campaign could be the answer to all of my problems!

So here is the picture,

I want you to look at it for a few seconds, and just let the mind flow. Upon seeing this image, what are your thoughts? I have come up with four reasonable responses with the parenthetic mathematical equation to my soul.

1) That show looks pretty stupid and lame. (1 to 25 percent connection)

2) That show looks pretty stupid and lame. I wonder who would possibly watch a show like that? (26 to 50 percent connection)

3) That show looks pretty stupid and lame. I wonder who would possibly watch a show like that? I mean, the “reality genre” started many years ago with an original idea: Several “strangers” occupy the same house with their every move recorded by cameras so that the conflicts, actions and relationships of the participants create “real” drama which evolved to "contest" type shows which turned into "celebrity" participation which became plain narcissistic voyeurism which turned into shameless semi-scripted "docu-dramas" featuring empty headed ne'er-do-wells and, finally, stretched to the breaking point beyond contemplation. I can not see them making any more of these pieces of tripe. (51 to 99 percent connection)

4) Look at that fucking guy!

(100 percent connection)

And, of course, if you are actually interested in watching it, we probably have nothing in common.

So, is there anyone out there who sees it the way I do?

And what are you? So full of hate you wanna fight everybody 'cause you've been whipped and chased by hounds. That might not be livin' but it sure ain't dyin'. And dying's what these white boys been doin' for goin' on three years now. Dyin' by the thousands. Dyin' for you, fool! I know, 'cause l dug the graves. And all the time I'm diggin', I'm asking myself, "When? When, O Lord, is it gonna be our time?" Time's comin' when we're gonna have to ante up. Ante up and kick in like men. LIKE MEN! You watch who you call a nigger. If there's any niggers around here, it's you. Smart-mouth, stupid-ass, swamp-running nigger. If you ain't careful, that's all you ever gonna be.

from Glory (1989)

Larry B

Juices Wild

Oh Jeez...

Would ya look at this...

From the April, 2009 Issue of Details Magazine

When I come upon an image like this one, three simple questions immediately pop into my mind:

A) Which one of A-Roid's battery of publicists, spin-doctors, lawyers and agents came up with the idea for this shoot?

B) How much does someone get paid for dispensing such judicious advice?

C) How do I get his job?

I mean, seriously, given the facts of your client's situation and the massive negative ground swell directed against him, what kind of professional anything would recommend doing a magazine spread that features the client in a flamboyantly narcissistic pose kissing his own reflection in the mirror? Is there any accountability? Didn't any one of his high priced janitors turn to him and tell him that taking this picture is probably the single worst thing you could possibly do right now?

I have posted twice on this joker (Two Peas in a Pod and Baseball is the Constant) so my opinions about this man's standing in the baseball world are pretty clear: I would pick many other ballplayers to be on my club before calling this guy. I know my position is debatable but I have been saying it since 2000 and I feel there is no reason to change my mind. All A-Fraud offers you are stats and what he takes is your team's soul.

A little harsh? Maybe but I don't care. I'm in it for the entertainment and, boy, when it comes to spectacle, this boy can bring it!

For all of you out there who haven't seen, haven't cared or don't even know who I am talking about, I will sum it up. In the span of approximately one year this celebrity dilettante by the name of Alex Rodriguez, considered by many to be the "greatest baseball player…possibly ever" tested positive for Steroids and Testosterone tainting his phenomenal statistics and branding him a cheater. He has fallen from grace and is now considered a pariah. During this period, far from minimizing any damage by laying low, he has fed the media monster large portions of red meat. First he goes through a nasty divorce, brought on by his sleeping with the (also married) Madonna - fulfilling both stars Joe DiMaggio/Marilyn Monroe fetishes - and then was outed as a performance-enhancing drug user. The circus that ensued…and when I say "circus" I mean complete with overstuffed funny cars full of tabloid writers, cable clowns and radio saps …became as oppressive as a hot August Brooklyn night when you have no air conditioning and you're out of Piels. He was front page fodder for one-month straight and back page sausage for two.

This was my favorite:

New York Post 2/9/2009

I feel guilty sometimes when I think about how many laughs I've enjoyed at this guy's expense. It isn't right, wanting someone else to fail just so you can snicker at the messiness. I know that. I really do. But A-Bomb brings so much of it on himself it is almost excusable. The laundry list of ridiculum is rather long ranging from strictly baseball issues like his failure to hit in the clutch and being a truly disliked teammate in the clubhouse. Or from off the field shenanigans like all night poker games, strip joints, Kabbalah worshipping and Madonna chasing. There was that ridiculous scene in Central Park where he and his wife (who he was repeatedly cheating on) "happened" to be there with a pack of photographers who also "happened" to be there to take endless pictures of the shirtless A-Fool who just "happens" to normally stand around and pose knowingly for cameras who he "doesn't know" are there. And then there are the completely insincere press conferences and interviews where he is obviously lying through his teeth.

And now this photo.

I have no doubt, with all the over compensation and insecurity he displays that, in the end, all this guy wants is to be loved. I see it in his words and in his actions. In his mind he has said everything and has done everything right since he came here. And then after five years of that calculated image building, after five years of trying so desperately to carve out his place in immortality, he wakes up one day, looks at the paper and sees the word A-HOLE in bold type stretched across his grape.

What a true fucking human tragedy.

Larry B

Ironic Family Values

irony [ahy-ruh-nee] - noun

1) The use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning.
2) An outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected.
3) The incongruity of this.

e.g. R. Reagan (POTUS - 1981 to circa 1986) and Nancy R. (POTUS circa 1986 to 1988). were considered a) strong military figure b) stalwarts of “traditional family values” c) big government reducer – but were in reality a) beneficiaries of a studio head pulling strings to get out of REAL military duty b) the only divorcee president and a woman who faked a pregnancy to trap a married man c) presided over the largest increase in government deficit spending in the union’s history

What was the over/under on this shit?

I think the Bellagio in Vegas had it at six months from November 4, 2008. That was the date when the electorate of the United States tossed the McCain/Palin ticket onto the nationwide bonfire of reason. A 24-hour period when, this author at least, felt alive for the first time in a VERY long time. A date when half-erect human animals crawled out of their caves of ignorance and decided to use tools again. A moment in time when millions of people declared that they no longer wanted to have their backs urinated on…and told it was raining.

Oh, I'm sorry what, you may ask, am I talking about?

...and Romeo wanted Juliet

Bristol Dumps ‘White Trash’ Baby Daddy

BY BELL HUTCIHNSON
DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER

The Teen Romance that prompted a pregnant pause in Sarah Palin’s bid to become U.S. Vice President is over.

Levi Johnston said last night that he will not be Palin’s son-in-law, confirming he and Bristol Palin, the mother of his baby boy, have broken up.

The 19-year-old hockey hunk told The Associated Press that he and Bristol Palin 18, mutually agreed to end their relationship “a while ago.”

He declined to elaborate.

Bristol Palin, who is still in high school, issued her own statement to the wire service, saying she is “devastated.”

Johnston broke his silence after his sister, Mercede, told Star magazine that the couple called it quits after Bristol Palin referred to the Johnston family as “white trash.”

Mercede Johnston. 18, said the daughter of Alaska’s Republican governor dumped her brother; Levi, an out-of-work high school dropout,

And she said Bristol Palin, who took her beau to the Republican National Convention in St. Paul, has made it tough for him to spend time with his 2-month-old son, Tripp.
“Levi tries to visit Tripp every single day, but Bristol makes it nearly impossible,” Mercede Johnston told Star magazine.

“She tells him he can’t take the baby to our house because she doesn’t want him around ‘white trash’ she said.

In December, Levi Johnston’s mother, Sherry, was busted in an undercover drug sting and charged with six felonies involving the painkiller Oxy Contin.

“Bristol won’t even allow him to watch the baby for a few hours unless he’s baby-sitting,” said Mercede Johnston, whose brother was forced to quit his oil field apprenticeship in January after questions were raised about his qualifications.
The sister said Bristol Palin’s demeaning attitude has been bolstered by Sarah Palin.
“I used to love Sarah,” she said. “But I’ve lost lots of respect for her.”

New York Daily News
3/12/2009

In October of 2008 I bet LARGE on the under... and I fucking scored! Receiving five to one on my money I can now safely retire to my bedroom where stacks and stacks of cash fill my vision from morning to night. I look left - a pile of cabbage. I look right - a serious mound of slaw. I look dead center - I see nothing but a slew of portraitures depicting long-dead white guys, sporting funny wigs and silly beards, staring at me, winking knowingly, telling me that I have worth.

TAKE THAT you 1930s style bottoming out economy!

In all seriousness, although I did (correctly) predict the outcome of this "match made in heaven," who did not see this coming? This high school aged, pregnant girl's decision to marry this self proclaimed Lothario was so obviously politically driven that I think the priest who was even considering performing that sham ceremony should be defrocked. The only thing these two kids probably ever wanted from each other was a stiff shaft or a soft hole. That's it. There was no thought of "commitment," domesticity or love in their heads. They simply were just two teenagers fucking and sucking on a lime green Dacron sofa, or groping and roping in the back seat of an overpriced inefficient American car or signed into a sleazy hourly rate motel with a fake ID, pumping and stumping on a bug ridden lumpy mattress - i.e. they were being "normal."

There, of course, were two major problems with their, unfortunately all too common, situation. The first, and by far the most critical, was that they did not use any kind of birth control resulting in an unwanted pregnancy. The second, and most telling, is that the mother of the knocked up girl was an over-the-top moralist type, right wing governor, who had just been picked by the reactionary party to be their "front man" in the campaign to sure up the party's base: backward, sexually repressed, borderline psychotic, jingoistic control freaks. And the last thing that would guarantee the support of backward, sexually repressed, borderline psychotic, jingoistic control freaks would be an extremely close relative who is an unwed teenage mother who spends her days skipping school and her nights getting poked in the whiskers. Hence, the engagement of a boy who is…

… “a fuckin' redneck who likes to snowboard and ride dirt bikes. But I live to play hockey. I like to go camping and hang out with the boys, do some fishing, shoot some shit and just fuckin' chillin' I guess. Ya fuck with me I'll kick ass."

from Johnston’s MySpace profile

…and a girl whose idea of responsibility is always making sure that the Vodka bottle is screwed on tightly before putting it back into the freezer, was announced.

And what is the objection to gay marriage again?

On second thought, her crowd would have probably been more outraged if her son turned out to be a Jewish, left-wing, homosexual, pornopgrapher, card carrying ACLU member…with an extreme foot fetish, and definitely would have required more spin.

Anyway, I do not want to harp on the ridiculous pitfalls, the HUGE gaps between what they say and what they do or the base, petty, emptiness that - specifically - the Palins incarnate and that – generally - their whole wing represents. Because, their hypocrisy, shallowness and destructiveness have passed over from “point of view” to objective fact. Any third party neutral observer, any legitimate arbitrator, any alien from another planet, if given the information, incidents and rhetoric associated with Sarah Palin over the last ten months, would draw the same conclusion that I have – She is anti-progress, She is anti-reason, She is corrupt, She is a charlatan opportunist with no conviction, She is bad for America.

But, I really don’t care about her. I don’t have any interest in calling her incompetent, or idiotic, or unsophisticated, or an asshole, or a fool, or a fuck-face, or a scourge that should be removed from the body politic. I don’t. She could be the governor of Alaska to the day she dies and it would be absolutely no skin off my nose. I mean that sincerely. I actually want to look at this from a completely different angle because, mentioning the government graft, the misuse and abuse of power, the book burning, the mean vindictive cruelty towards rivals, the witch doctor advisors, the secessionist sympathizing, the jaw-dropping blown photo-ops and the draw-dropping family behavior, would be too easy. No, this story, although excruciatingly predictable, should be the final piece, the last straw, the rook to king seven checkmate move, that finally convinces you that the moral bankruptcy of the Republican Party is total.

“YO! YO BETTER SHUT YO FUCK’N MOUTH BOY! THAT’S MY DADDY YO TALK’N ‘BOUT!”

Let me try to clarify my, admittedly, absurdly general blanket statement because I know there are many reasonable Republicans out there who do not consider their philosophy as negative nor their party leadership as particularly immoral. At best, they think all politicians are assholes and the Democrats are no better. I, of course, disagree with this position but, for the sake of our country, I am willing to try to see a way that we could have common ground. As for the hardcores out there who still couldn’t see even if Vishnu himself showed up in a majestic display of lights and colors, stood erect and pointed his finger at them and declared “THE REPUBLICANS ARE WRONG!” I view as a fundamentalist Christian looks at me…eternally lost.

And let’s forget about McCain. He is a man who is steadily rising up the rather long list of truly tragic American characters. Fuck Dubya. Oliver Stone should make a movie about this cat. A terrible tale about a person who does not break during years of physical torture in a North Vietnamese POW camp only to make a Faustian deal with the Republican party, selling his soul, just for even a glimpse at the brass ring. I already have a treatment in mind that I could pitch Stone. The film would begin with McCain’s plane crashing spectacularly into the dense south East Asian jungle and ending with his phone call to Palin. The last vestige of dignity shed, the circle complete.

No. This party has been hammering the American public with some divisive rhetoric. Some of it, if not all of it, was flat out silly and just did not take. But there was one point of attack that was truly offensive. That was the point of view that if you are not from some small town, if you know a foreign language, if you can speak correctly, then you are not a real American. Even the word “cosmopolitan” somehow became a smear. I saw this idea being drilled into the submissive audience at the Lew “Jack Off” Dobbs show I went to, I saw it on the 24 hr CNN swill-fest they have playing on the jumbo HD TV in the lobby of my building and I saw it, and this is completely incredible, coming from Rudolph Giuliani the former mayor of…SURVEY SAYS…New York City which, for all you keeping score out there, the largest and most cosmopolitan city in the United States of America.

So, this party, feeling that the only way they could win is to vilify a large portion of the citizenry, trot out Sarah Palin. I am picturing the conversations that these maestros at the RNC were having before that fatal move.

Anti-American #1: For Vice-President how about that hot bitch up in Alaska? She sure is folksy and those maniacs with the doomsday obsessions would definitely dig her “I am so proud to be just one ignorant piece of shit” thing.


Anti-American #2: “Yeah. These fucking rubes will eat up any feces we serve them.”

To be honest with you, I don’t think it was a particularly bad strategy…if your only concern was to retain power and you could not give a flying fuck about your country, your fellow man or your planet.

But here is the thing that is so offensive. The salient point of their “Hate everybody from a city and is smarter than you” schtick is that old faithful label they threw around: “Elitist.” “Obama is an elitist because he can think!” “Michael Moore is an elitist because he can produce a movie!” “That mother fucker sitting next to you right now reading anything over a second grade level is an elitist!” “EVERYBODY is an ELITIST who you feel vaguely threatened by!”

I remember during the actual campaign, there were leaks coming from the McCain and/or Palin camps that painted a pretty ugly picture – in pretty course terms - of the Wasilla Barracuda. There was massive dissatisfaction with her total lack of decorum, calling the whole clan as a bunch of “hillbillies” run amok. The image these CAMPAIGN INSIDERS spread was of an unsophisticated whore and her sycophantic hanger-ons rummaging through extremely upscale shops, pawing at anything they could get their mitts around. Stuffing endless amounts of designer shit into hefty bags while putting it all on the Republican dime. The way these whistle blowers – the same people who tried to sell you all the elitist crap – talked about their supposed champion it was obvious that they abhorred her behavior and felt completely superior. In other words, they sounded like elitists.

And now, from this article, I see this line:

“She tells him he can’t take the baby to our house because she doesn’t want him around ‘white trash’ she said.

I have no doubt…NO FUCKING DOUBT…that the Palin clan - the people with the clothes grabbing, the exorcisms, the teenage un-wed mothers, the illiteracy, the inquisitiveness of a deep water sponge – have nothing but contempt for the people that they serve. That is, of course, until they need your vote and then you will get the Angie Dickinson wink and the Janet Jackson tit flash.

Simply put, the Republican Party has nothing to offer you but fulfilling your darkest nightmares. Please stop going the way of McCain.

irony [ahy-ruh-nee] - noun


1) The use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning.
2) An outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected.
3) The incongruity of this.

e.g. S. Palin (Gov. AK - 2006 to ?) considers herself a) a government reformer b) an unadorned straight shooter c) a true representative of REAL America – but is in reality a) a completely hypocritical shite-head who thrives on cruelty, a promoter of bigotry and intolerance, a petty grifter who never met a kickback she didn’t take, a liar…

You know, come to think of it…

Maybe irony is not the right word.

Larry B

What A Wonderful World

"We're trying to sell peace, like a product, you know, and sell it like people sell soap or soft drinks. And it's the only way to get people aware that peace is possible, and it isn't just inevitable to have violence. Not just war — all forms of violence. People just accept it and think 'Oh, they did it, or Harold Wilson [British prime minister at the time] did it, or Nixon did it,' they're always scapegoating people. And it isn't Nixon's fault. We're all responsible for everything that goes on, you know, we're all responsible for Biafra and Hitler and everything. So we're just saying "SELL PEACE" — anybody interested in peace just stick it in the window. It's simple but it lets somebody else know that you want peace too, because you feel alone if you're the only one thinking 'wouldn't it be nice if there was peace and nobody was getting killed.' So advertise yourself that you're for peace if you believe in it."

John Lennon
The David Frost Show - 6/14/1969

"Now, in the sixties we were naive, like children. Everybody went back to their rooms, and said, ‘We didn’t get a wonderful world of just flowers and peace and happy chocolate, and it won’t be just pretty and beautiful all the time,’ and just like babies everyone went back to their rooms and sulked. ‘We’re going to stay in our rooms and play rock and roll and not do anything else, because the world’s a horrible place, because it didn’t give us everything we cried for.’ Right?…well, crying for it wasn’t enough. The thing the sixties did was show us the possibilities and the responsibility that we all had. It wasn’t the answer. It just gave us a glimpse of the possibility."

John Lennon
KFRC RKO Radio - 12/8/1980

This is how that man had his life ended 28 years ago:

"I believe in God, but not as one thing, not as an old man in the sky. I believe that what people call God is something in all of us. I believe that what Jesus and Mohammed and Buddha and all the rest said was right. It's just that the translations have gone wrong."

John Lennon
1940-1980

Larry

Short Shots From The Cube Buddha

Zen and the Art of Wasting Your Life

On Parenting:


I remember when I was a kid watching a live performance of the Charlie Daniels Band on television. The show was either the Grammys or the American Music Awards, etc. I really have no idea what the venue was but, of course, the band was playing “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” When Charlie arrived at the line “I told you once you son of a bitch I’m the best there’s ever been!” he was not edited. The word BITCH came through loud and clear on network television.

Now for you post NYPD Blue young’ns out there remember this was the late 1970s and bad language of any kind had absolutely no home on free television. So this authoritative outburst from a bearded, cowboy-hat wearing, shit kicker was rather shocking to my preteen ears.

Expressing that feeling, I said out loud that I am really surprised that the singer just said what he said. Upon hearing this my father said to me, “That’s because he wrote it!”

A solid life lesson…and at the time I didn’t even know it.




On the Nature of the Beast:


Yesterday I received a financial solicitation from an organization called Farm Sanctuary. They are an advocacy group for saving abused or abandoned animals, providing them with a place to live after they’re rescued. I don’t really know much about this charity but I receive requests in the mail pretty frequently because I made a donation once a long time ago. They seem to be legitimate and their cause is most certainly noble. In this particular mailer, one bulleted passage really struck me:

“On an Iowa farm 600 pigs were released by perpetrators who cruelly intended to chase them down and run them over with cars. At least 30 pigs reportedly lost their lives that night, and many more suffered broken bones and injuries.”

I eat pork. I enjoy pork. In soup, with pasta, over rice, barbecued, in sandwiches…just about anyway the western world has come up with to prepare it.

With that being said, I ask myself, exactly what kind of sick fucking people do we have living in this country?




On Music:


From the Billy Joel song “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant”:

Well they got an apartment with deep pile carpets

And a couple of paintings from Sears

A big waterbed that they bought with the bread

They had saved for a couple of years

But they started to fight when the money got tight

And they just didn't count on the tears.

Oh Oh, Oh Oh

Yeah rock 'n roll




Originally appearing on the huge 1977 release The Stranger, I happened to hear this track on my local “classic rock” radio station this afternoon. I have heard this song, and this is no exaggeration, AT LEAST a hundred times over my life and, in all honesty, I think he spins a pretty decent tale in the long-form storytelling style of music which category this song firmly falls in. I have been to many bars over the last five years that were packed with early twenty somethings with this song playing in the background on the jukebox. I never thought much about it.

After hearing these lyrics, I wonder if these patrons, sipping their Chocolate Martinis and So-Co and Limes, have any idea what Billy Joel is talking about?




On Circular History:


After watching the election coverage and results on Tuesday I can say that I’m with Barack Obama when he says that we should leave in the past the concept of Red States and Blue States.

We should stop using red and change the color to grey.




On Language:

What you're hired for is to help us--does that seem clear to you? To help us. Not to fuck us up.

I think of these lines from the David Mamet play and film Glengarry Glen Ross every time I have any dealings with any department called a “help desk” – possibly the most Orwellian named entity in the corporate world.




On Unity:


On November 11, 2008, Veterans Day, a week after the general election, on the MSNBC show 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, former Republican Staten Island congress woman Susan Molinari – now billed as a Republican Strategist – had this to say:




I think we had one of the best nights of the Republican Party when Rudy Giuliani and Sarah Palin gave a speech at the national convention. I think we can duplicate that and be a successful majority party moving forward. I think getting her out there is a smart thing for all of us.

No comment. Just ponder what a "Republican Strategist" believes is a great night for a party that included Abe, Teddy and Dwight.




On Relativism:


Yesterday I stood at the base of my office building, staring out into space, feeling sorry for myself. I was unhappy with my job, my situation…my life. I realized, for the most part, my dissatisfaction stemmed from my own decisions and actions so, I knew, I really did not have anyone to blame. It was an intellectual realization only and, rarely, do revelations of that type trump actual emotions to the contrary. I continued staring, alternating between the graying sky and the graying cobblestones that make up the pavement between my glass tower and the adjacent building, muttering to myself “if only…if only…if only.” The word despair would not half describe the feeling of melancholy that was overwhelming me.

As my self-pity reached its zenith, a small pigeon alighted a few yards from my feet. I watched as the bird stuck his beak between the cobbles, desperately attempting to lap up the water that settled in the crack - a remnant of the early morning rain.

The scene gave me pause.




On Perception:


When you stop drinking, or using any of the so-called “recreational drugs” that human society has to offer, the world appears to be a much different place. I am not sure which world is better.

I am sure which is harder.




On Culture:


In this fat fuck’s most humble opinion, the 1980s were the worst decade for film since the fall of the studio system. American cinema was dominated by slasher movies, mindless testosterone drenched action pictures, sophomoric comedic feces piles and John Hughes brat-pack coming of age smugfests. And, to add insult to injury, the “serious” or “arty” corner was dominated by those snooze-inducing Merchant-Ivory type things that left me propping my head up in boredom or clutching my stomach in pain and, sometimes, if it were a real gem, both. If it were not for Oliver Stone, one could argue that - for a ten year period - a true human art form disappeared from the North American continent.

Here are the titles of the Academy Award winning best…I repeat BEST…films from 1980 to 1989 in order:

“Ordinary People,” “Chariots of Fire,” “Gandhi,” “Terms of Endearment,” “Amadeus,” “Out of Africa,” “Platoon,” “The Last Emperor,” “Rain Man” and the grand daddy of them all “Driving Miss Daisy.”

On that list there are three…possibly four…films that today I would consider even WATCHABLE, much less superior. I know the Oscar selection process has always been more of an election/popularity contest then a statement of worth but, CHRIST! If these were considered “the best” what the hell does that say about the worst? Or even the mediocre?

Come to think of it, I did kind of dig The Evil That Men Do starring Charles Bronson when I saw it at the Georgetown Theater in Brooklyn back in 1984.

Of course, during the course of that viewing, we did smoke up a half ounce of cheeba.




Being fat is not only physical,
It is a state of mind.
Larry B

Rock Out With Your Barack Out!

The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.

Abraham Lincoln
Second Annual Message to Congress
December 1, 1862

Larry B

It's Morning in America Again...

Focusing your life solely on making a buck shows a certain poverty of ambition. It asks too little of yourself. Because it's only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you realize your true potential.

Barack Obama

He (Obama) said the other day that his (Iowa) primary victory "vindicated" his faith in America. My country has never had anything to prove to me, my friends. I have always had faith in it, and I have been humbled and honored to serve it.

John McCain

We, all of us really, grew up with our heads up our ass and some of us figured out how to pull our heads out.

Michael Moore

Two years ago today (My post "Election Eve Special") I gave a personal endorsement to the Democratic Party. I believe my exact quote was "vote Democrat straight down the line." It was the first time in my life that I did such a thing and the results were nothing short of spectacular! Upon hearing my proclamation, wave after wave of "Larry-Crats" hit the polling booths…and the Democratic Party rode that crest all the way to control of both the House and Senate in 2006.

Being that it is election eve again, it is time for me to formally declare which candidate I support for President of the United States. After much hand wringing about this most important choice, after listening to much internal and external debate, I can honestly say I have finally reached a decision…

Barack Obama.

In all seriousness, Barack has run the best campaign I have ever seen. I do remember Reagan's pitch - which the title of this post alludes to - but I was a lot younger then. I didn't dig Ron's thing but, in 1984, I knew that he connected with a whole slew of people who were fed-up. Ronny was positive and the fake cowboy took the population on a solid ride. It was intensely on point and people gravitated.

The same can be said about Obama. He has taken the high road without looking weak. He is a true uniter not a divider. He is smart and reasonable. I think, for the first time in my life, what I feel to be true is being eloquently expressed in the political forum. If that point of view is rejected by the electorate - than so be it.

But I am feeling confident that this is going to be a popular, as well as, an electoral landslide tomorrow. I am going to bed tonight completely sure that when the chips are down, We will choose Hope over Fear, Compassion over Cynicism, Knowledge over Ignorance. And when that statistical fact comes true, a broad-based mandate will exist that can create a new beginning in this country. Maybe the middle and working classes will get a fairer shake. Maybe Our foreign policy will become more stable and realistic.

At least, for you skeptics out there, that is at least a possibility.

I implore you to vote tomorrow even if you reside in a state that is "in the bag" (such as my home state of New York.) Go to the polls anyway. Make that national total as high as we can possibly make it. Let us show that this is no fluke.

I want to believe again.

Putting all of his eggs in one basket,
Larry B