That's My Baby
Instant coffee and the occasional ciggarette. Simply: the way to go.
The Enemy Is About
Maintain Radio Silence
Fare Thee Well, Marlon Brando, Fare Thee Well
You are one of life’s enjoyers, determined to get the most you can out of your brief spell on Earth. Probably what first attracted you to atheism was the prospect of liberation from the Ten Commandments, few of which are compatible with a life of pleasure. You play hard and work quite hard, have a strong sense of loyalty and a relaxed but consistent approach to your philosophy.
You can’t see the point of abstract principles and probably wouldn’t lay down your life for a concept though you might for a friend. Something of a champagne humanist, you admire George Bernard Shaw for his cheerful agnosticism and pursuit of sensual rewards and your Hollywood hero is Marlon Brando, who was beautiful, irascible and aimed for goodness in his own tortured way.
Sometimes you might be tempted to allow your own pleasures to take precedence over your ethics. But everyone is striving for that elusive balance between the good and the happy life. You’d probably open another bottle and say there’s no contest.What kind of humanist are you? Click here to find out.
Lucky Post 13
This is a thing that happened to me about a week ago. I’ve been mulling it over for a while and trying to wrap my mind around it. But it doesn’t need any mulling over.
In New York, panhandlers are always coming up to you. Every walk to the subway, chances are someone will ask you for money. You become conditioned to ignoring it. Perfect the five-yard stare and just walk on by. New Yorkers become connoisseurs of beggars, used to every come-on, all the scams. One game to play at the bar is comparing the most miserable sob stories you’ve heard.
I’m smoking a cig, and I can tell that this guy coming up to me is going to ask me for money. I can tell by the look in his eye –he’s kind of sizing me up, but also got his best smile going. He’s black and dressed pretty shabby. Starts off with the soft sell.
“Hey man, got another cigarette?”
Of course I do. Hand it to him. He lights it. Then he continues with the sell.
“Man, I can tell you raised good.”
Yeah, he’s pro. Knows the game.
“Yeah, I can tell you’re kind. Not a prick like those other guys who just ignore a black man asking them for shit.”
It kinda goes on like this. I make brief replies. “Yeah. Huh. Aw.” After all, he’s not really looking for conversation.
He moves into phase two, the sob story.
“I just got out of prison. I was not a good person. I mugged people, beat them up. But I got stabbed in prison. Now, I’m trying to turn my life around.”
Here, he takes out his prison ID and shows it to me.
“But shit. The shelter I’m staying at costs $30 a night. And the white bitch who runs it closes the doors at 10:00. So I got to catch a subway up there right now. Man, I’ve got a buck fifty.”
“I ain’t asking for thirty bucks. Whatever you got is good. Just like, ten bucks.”
Holy shit, this guy is balsy.
I ended up giving him a buck, which I’m sure is a lot more than he usually gets, but he acted offended as he took it.
Anyway, classic technique, and it worked perfectly on me, the liberal sucker that he knew I was from the beginning.
Listening to: The Pogues -- Sally MacLennane
Flat Foot Floogie
This new Facebook photo feature is really going to eat my brain. I just don't see how American colleges are going to continue to function, with everybody spending all their time looking at everyone else's drunken revelery. This truly is what the internet is for. It just can't get any better. We have reached the pinnacle of civilization. Or its downfall. Whatevs.
The coolest guy on my block is this guy, I'd say about 55 years old. He wears a bomber jacket, captain's hat and loose pants tucked into his boots. And he always carries around a boombox blasting classical music. I'll try to get a picture of him one of these days.
That is all.
Listening to: David Bowie -- New Killer Star
Mellow Out, Son
Enough of 60 Minutes gossip. Believe me, I could go on posting about News of the Dan forever. Lord knows there is enough material there. But I’ve got my sights set on higher horizons. ‘Cause what you really want to know is: what’s New York all about? That’s the burning Q.
Essentially, it’s really fun. Though I don’t have enough time to make it as much fun as it should be. Or enough money. New York takes money to do right. To do anything, really.
But as with all else in the crazed whirligig of existence –the best things in New York are free. The best thing being that, every time I set foot outside the apartment, I am guaranteed of seeing the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Every fucking time. I fall in love each time I walk to work, only to have that girl replaced in my heart by a new beauty on my way back home. A wise man once said, “The thing I love about New York is that I’m constantly having to choose between looking at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or the craziest guy I’ve ever seen. ‘Shit! That lady is fiiiine! But that dude is sticking a whole Tuna up his ass! And setting it on fire with a blowtorch! Who do I look at? ”
Listening to: Annie Ross -- Twisted
Huh. Apparently I wasn't the only one blabbing about 60 Minutes yesterday. There is a piecegoing around
about Dapper Dan Rather and Mischevous Mike Wallace getting into an altercation midst their defecation. Guess I got scooped like dog doo. Two people have asked me if I saw the fight. I didn't, by the way. I'm weirded something that happened in a room I regularly expose my penis in has become watercooler chatter all over the nation. And I'm strangely tingled at the same time. I wonder who told the guy at Radar about it? Was it Terry? Or Tad?
But really, I think its pretty rotten. It was the Rathermachine's birthday, for fucking sake! "Happy Birthday! Complete strangers are reading that you got insulted at the shitter today!" Really, Dan the Man deserves better than that.
Kenneth, What is the Frequency?
More Musings on Dangerous Dan:
I know what you are thinking: Its the Dan Man's 73rd birthday, and he spends it at the office? Yeah, the same thought has been perplexing my grey matter as well. What can I say, except that The Rather is a brooding pool of existential mystery? And a workaholic. The man is supposedly retired, but he still shows up at the office in suspenders and suit, ready to dash on the air and report the news, dammit! There wasn't any office party for him, either. At least, not one that I was invited to.
But really, who am I to quibble with how Rathersourus Rex chooses to commemorate his latest trip around the sun? After all, I am currently muddling through the most boring Halloween I have ever endured. No candy, no shit. I didn't even make it to the Greenwich Halloween Parade. Whatevs, I'm just doing my part for the Bolivarian Revolution.
Anyway, I went outside for a ciggy and I realized something: New York is not noticeably crazier on Halloween. Yeah, there are some people walking down the street dressed as sexy nurses or Hell's Angels, but they just blend right in with the everyday freaks.
And that's the news.
listening to: Willie Nelson - Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys