Apple iPad – the Pad of the Future

Golly, I wish I could afford that...

Steve Jobs just unveiled the new Apple iPad. Unsurprisingly, despite its introductory price tag of $499, everyone and their mother wants one, myself included. It’s sleek, it’s pretty and it does everything you ever imagined a 1/2 inch thick piece of plastic could do.

Although it doesn’t make phone calls (which is probably a good thing considering how goofy someone would look with that thing pressed against his head), there are a few other features of the new iPad that were not brought up at the press conference:

1. It will instantly make you the center of attention. Remember the first time you saw someone whip out an iPhone. Imagine that with something that’s twice as big.

2. You’ll throw away your laptop. Remember flip phones? Neither does the Apple.

3. Steve Jobs will be crowned ruler of everything. Already the CEO of one of the largest tech companies, Jobs is also CEO of Pixar which makes him one of the major shareholders in the Walt Disney Company. With Disney’s recent purchase of Marvel Entertainment and the new iPad’s ability to bring all forms of print media into the world of bits and bytes, Jobs is poised to be at the forefront of every form of media in existence. All he needs is a monocle and a cat and you’ve got yourself a real-world Bond villain.

4. Amazon will go back to selling books. Bye-bye Kindle and your steroid-ridden cousin Kindle DX. You will be missed.

5. You’ll be able to read dirty magazines on the subway and people will think you’re wealthy and hip. It’s a win-win situation.

6. You will save every penny towards getting one. I know I will. And in doing so, it will save the troubled US economy by single-handedly creating jobs for app developers, retailers and manufacturers alike. Did you know President Obama already has one? Unfortunately, it might mean the end of all foreign relations as we’ll all be so absorbed the glossy screen and plethora of features that we won’t see the missiles coming.

7. The Catholic Church will have a new decree telling people to avoid the new false idol. So much for that pesky first commandment.

8. Kotex sues Apple for trademark infringement. In addition to not playing Flash or having a built in camera, the iPad is also a poor feminine hygiene product.

The Holy Grail of Geek Devices - finally unveiled!

The Marathon a.k.a Collective Insanity

Phew. For a while there, I didn’t think I was going to make it back to the ol’ blog…

In the last few weeks, the lady-friend, Cady and the grooms-friend, Ted along with an assortment of like-minded runners have been training for the NY half marathon that took place last Sunday.  Good news is, they finished within the qualifying time. The bad news is, they’re insane.

I’m no fan of running. If I want to get somewhere in a hurry, I’ll take a bike, car, segway, subway or horse if I have to. The only reason I would run anywhere is if I turned around and saw this:

The ONLY reason to run. Ever.

Running as a concept baffles me. Humanity has evolved past this – it’s why we invented alternative means of transportation. Do you think the runner from the ancient Battle of Marathon wouldn’t have chosen to drive to Athens in a car if he had the chance? Can you imagine the blisters he would have saved himself?

You can call me lazy if you’d like. You may say I don’t understand the thrill of completing a 26 or even 13 mile run. Fine.  But I’ll gladly avoid the cardiac arrest and uncontrollable bowels that comes with overexerting my body. People crossing the finish line look like they’re heading toward a light at the end of a tunnel and for what? A bagel and some gatorade at the end. No thanks, not for me.

On Sunday at the buttcrack of dawn, I saw people older than dirt run 13 miles in under 2 hours. While impressive, I was acutely aware of the waiting ambulance and paramedics that crowded the finish line. Seems to me like running is one of the few sports where medical emergencies are not just common but expected. Call me skeptical, but that’s a pretty big red flag.

Say hello to Mr. Ambulance.

But kudos to the people who do it and finish. Though I think you’re completely off your rocker, you’ve done something I’ve never done (or plan on doing) so you’ve got my respect for that.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to go polish off a 5 pound double bacon cheeseburger – and hopefully earn your respect for doing something you’ll never do.

If this were a real sport like competitive eating, maybe I could get behind it.

Back on top – Disney’s ‘Princess and the Frog’

Before you judge me based on the fact that I went to see a Disney “princess” movie, let me say one thing. I don’t care. As a lifelong Disney fan, I’ve seen almost every animated feature in the Disney canon, and yes those include all the princess ones too. They’re great, deal with it. After a lengthy period where it looked like Michael Eisner and computer animation had all but killed traditional hand-drawn animation, I was worried that the recently released “Princess and the Frog” was going to be a false start in the studios’ attempt to resurrect the art form. Someone should have slapped me because boy were my assumptions dead wrong.

I won’t bore you with hyperbolic descriptions about how the animation was spectacular, how the Alan Menken songs hearkened back to Disney’s heyday, or how the characters were simultaneously funny and touching. You could read any review in any magazine for that kind of thing. The thing that I’ve always loved most about cinema is the way that every person will have a different reaction and will engage the film in vastly different ways. A film can mean any number of things depending on the kinds of associative memories the viewer is bringing into the theater.

For me, as someone who loves animation, the film was a love letter to those past traditions that had withered on the vine and had then been left to rot by those in charge. For many of the audience members of the opening night at the Court Street theater in Brooklyn, the film had a vastly different significance.  Why? Well, first a little background on the film – Disney ran into a bit of trouble with “Princess & The Frog” because they not only chose to set the film in New Orleans, but also because the film was going to be the first to to finally induct a black princess into their predominantly monochromatic pantheon of princesses. Considering how sensitive a topic race is in this country, the fact that they managed to avoid most of the potential pitfalls that could have beset the film is a miracle in itself; but it’s a minor miracle when compared to how the film was received at the Court Street theater.

The theater sits on the cusp between Brooklyn Heights and downtown Brooklyn and services a large black community. Feel free to go ahead and give me crap for saying it, but my experiences seeing movies in the Court Street theater have almost always featured some example of the stereotype of black people in movie theaters. Yes, I know stereotypes are wrong, but I happen to think this one makes the moviegoing experience that much more entertaining. There has rarely been a film I have seen in that theater that did not involve some lady yelling, “don’t go in there!” during some horror movie, so the added layer of audience interaction is always a treat.

Maybe it was the film’s protagonist, maybe it was the subject matter or maybe it was the fact that it was so exceptionally well crafted, but for the entirety of the film, no one uttered a word in the packed theater. Not one word. This is unheard of. Once the credits started rolling, people even clapped! In Brooklyn! The chances of this happening are about as slim as finding a politician without a mistress. The little girl with the thick glasses and pigtails sitting in the seat next to me was on the edge of her seat, eyes glued to the screen the whole way through.

For whatever technical achievements “Princess & The Frog” may represent, the ultimate marker of its worth is the message that derives from its story. Tiana is the first Disney princess whose underlying purpose is not to find self-worth by passively waiting for some prince to come and marry her. Rather, her message is that dreams are attainable if you persevere and work hard – a valuable and powerful lesson for kids, little girls especially. While I may have walked out of that theater with an appreciation for the song and visual style of the film, that little girl who sat next to me walked out of there with more than that – she walked out with a positive role model. That alone is worth the ticket price.

Go see this movie. Your inner child will thank you.

Stay classy, Yankees Fans

Months ago, well before the Yankees won their millionth world series, I hoofed it out to the new Yankee stadium to see what all the fuss was about. I had heard stories of the glory that was the new stadium – shining ivory pillars holding up a structure steeped in history and manly baseball lore. I was also expecting thousands upon thousands of overly and overtly proud New Yorkers rooting for their team. I’ve had my encounters with Yankee fans before at other baseball stadiums and the howler monkey calls, rudeness and keg-sized beer guts did not disappoint in their home turf.

I am not a Yankees fan. That should be clear by now. After winning so many World Series titles – and being so overpaid – there’s nothing exciting about seeing the top dogs win 27 times. Frankly, it’s boring. Give me an underdog any day and I’ll give you a reason to cheer. Regardless of my feelings towards the team itself (spoiler alert: they suck) I was willing to brave the teeming masses through the sudden summer rain squall and make my way into the cheap seats.

Cady and I were flanked on all sides by bleacher creatures. Fat bros in Yankees caps, women from Queens with acrylic nails and att-it-ude, and the little shits in high school who think they are tough because they can grab their crotch and talk with an accent so thick it sounds like they just had a stroke. This was the fine melting pot around us – and Cady wanted to wear her Seattle Mariners gear. Which would have been like dressing in a meat-suit and swimming in a pool of piranhas. And, in case you’re wondering, these piranhas pay $9 for a Coors Light in a plastic bottle, so not only are they rabid, they’re rich on top of it.

The game went by fairly uneventfully. Ken Griffey Jr., back on the Mariners and lugging around an extra 50 pounds of gut, was our main reason for going, but like the rest of his career since leaving Seattle years ago, the game was uninspired. Mariners were losing the game; I had lost interest. Then I saw the makings of a wonderful little vignette that captured everything beautiful about the stereotypical Yankee fan.

The epitome of sportsmanlike conduct

Down in front, just behind the boisterous Puerto Rican dad waving a giant flag around, was a drunk. A big drunk. He was built like a freight train and had just as many functioning brain cells. I couldn’t quite hear from my seat ten rows up, but he started yelling (primarily in four letter words) at a cop. Now, this is a fairly small female police officer, who, while looking tough because she’s in uniform, did not exactly exude authority. [Insert string of expletives and racial epithets here]. Pretty much anything and everything offensive came out of this drunk’s mouth and she could do very little stop it.

Too bad Lady Cop had backup. From the other side of the bleachers, a cop with a jaw squarer than a Southern Baptist preacher and a chest you’d probably have to circumnavigate walked over to investigate the ruckus, hand poised on his gun.

Drunky was having nothing of it. As he started yelling louder, people started watching. Lady Cop and Kick-Your-Ass-Just-For-Looking Cop led the guy up out of the bleacher section and corralled him by the $7 hot dog stand. That would have been a great time to shut up, I think. His girlfriend, classy lady that she was, tried to calm Drunky down by grabbing his head and making him look at her. He pulled away violently and launched his next assault of f-bombs.

Surprise, didn’t help. As a crowd of police officers gathered and everyone in the stands turned to watch, Drunky thought it wise to push Lady Cop in the shoulder. I think I may have blinked because before I knew it, he was on the floor in handcuffs and with a knee in his back, shouting in pain and confusion. They pulled him away – everyone clapped. Oddly enough, after the game, I saw Drunky and Drunky’s girlfriend standing outside the stadium angrily glaring at the cops as a hooker handed out bookmarks (industrious!) and the louts wandered home with another Yankee victory in their caps.

So quick recap:
Lesson #1: Don’t be an idiot and push a cop. Especially when there are 8 other cops around her.
Lesson #2: If you’re going to be a Yankees fan, don’t be an ass about it. It makes you and your team look bad.
Lesson #3: Nine dollar beers? Really?

The funny thing is, no matter how big of a loudmouth your average Yankee fan may be, they still come in second to Oakland A’s fans – those guys are REAL a-holes.

[Yankees fans - if you'd like to help prove my point, please leave a comment below...]

Cambodia – enclave for the depraved mind (a.k.a. my friend)

I lost a friend to the ladyboys a few weeks ago. My friend Andrew up and moved to Cambodia to take a job as an Editor/Reporter at an English language paper in Phnom Penh. While it saddens me to see him go, I’m sure his continued adventures in journalism  – from Uganda, to Wired Magazine to National Geographic Adventure magazine – can only benefit from from the crazy happenings of Cambodia.

I’m sure that 20 years down the line when Andrew has grown a real beard, taken up smoking a pipe and has discovered a love for bullfighting, we’ll both look back to this episode in his life as we drink our pints from frosty mugs (yes, we will drink heavily in the future) and have nothing but great stories. I wish him the best of luck…because he best be showing up to perform his groomsman duties come July. Follow his adventures here: www.umbrellarevolution.tumblr.com

Weddings to save America

Ah, pending nuptials. A “wedding” as they call it in these parts.  The day which society has deemed the end of a man’s hunter-gatherer lifestyle and/or the point where a TV show jumps the shark. In my case, I’ll refrain from my typical juvenile commentary on the whole ordeal and just give you a taste of what I’ve been up to lately…

As most of you may know, I’m getting married. (If you didn’t know, you probably aren’t going to be invited at this point…sorry.) The only thing is, times are tough. You may or may not have noticed that we’re in the middle of one of the biggest economic downturns and companies aren’t exactly clamoring to hire a 20-something with a BA and MA in touchy-feely humanities. But the missus and I could care less about that (or, apparently, fiscal responsibility) and are forging ahead with our plans to tie the knot next July.

In the meantime, we’ve been putting together all the necessary arrangements. In a nutshell, there’s a lot of crap to do and most of it is ridiculously expensive. Like, “sell your kidney on the black market” expensive. I would say that it’s “re-mortgage your house” expensive but people don’t have those anymore so it’s not exactly an apt expression. DJs, caterers, suits, rings, flowers, bride/groom gifts, finding a priest, save the dates, invitations (here’s a question: isn’t a save the date essentially the same as an invitation? Why send two?) booking a venue, driving out to the venue, flights, hotels, and on and on and on. Like I said, lots of stuff. And for those of you that have known me for a while, you are familiar with my general distaste for spending money. The irony of it all is that the majority of the plans we’re making we won’t even get to partake in. There’s no way one or two people could eat thousands of dollars in catered food or sit in hundreds of rented chairs. Believe me, I’ve tried.

However, in all wedding planning frenzy, I’ve come to one of my bizarre yet sensible revelations. Perhaps the way out of this economic mess our friendly friends on Wall Street have gotten us into is through weddings. Go with me on this one. Weddings generate billions in revenue every year. Know why? Become most people getting married are doing it for the first time. What better way to pull a fast one than by working with someone who has no point of reference.

Example: How much is that flower bouquet? Why, $300. That’s absurd, sir – no flowers are worth $300. Well, my first time married couple, these are special wedding flowers that you only buy once and you’ll have the memories for your entire life. Oh, okay, that sounds reasonable. I’ll take 5.

Here’s the genius part of the plan. Since the divorce rate is at nearly 50% in this country these days, wedding consumers are statistically getting more savvy with each passing marriage. That means less income for wedding vendors. But what if we open the market up to an untapped sector of the population that has wanted to get married for a long time now and just hasn’t had the civil liberties to do so? Maybe a market that is known for it’s flashy, exuberant behavior and strong love of man?

I think you know where I’m heading with this….that’s right, dog weddings.

Mr. and Mrs. Bonesworth

Not only would they be adorable, but pet owners already spend an absurd amount of money on their pets each year. If Princess deserves a diamond stud collar from Tiffany’s, doesn’t she deserve a committed lifetime relationship with Mr. Bonesworth? Adding legal wedding ceremonies to the pile of luxury dog commodities is the next logical step. It would be an economic boon to the American financial sector and it would silence all those people who cry out about the sanctity of marriage because, let’s face it, no dog marriage will end in divorce. Hell, the groom will already come pre-castrated in most cases so he’s got nothing to lose. On top of that, dogs don’t live as long as humans, so owners can have the privilege of a ton of dog weddings in their lifetime.

With thousands of new dog weddings to bolster the US economy, we can pay back all those pesky loans to China. I’d say the best places to start would be Iowa, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Vermont and New Hampshire. (But not in California or New York, they’re not progressive enough yet.) After having seen the crazy bills that a wedding incurs, I’m sure there can’t possibly be another segment of the American public that could possibly want to go through such a lavish, beautiful, once-in-a-lifetime commitment ceremony to demonstrate the love they have for their partner. No, that would be absolutely absurd. Dog weddings are the way to go.

Welcome back to the “beautiful” streets of NY…

This past week, Cady and I went home to Gig Harbor to sort through some wedding planning (stay tuned for more on that) and partake in National Turkey Massacre Day. It was a week of caterers, photographers and the monotone drum of constant rain and suicide inducing grayness. Y’know, typical Washington.

The one thing I had forgotten since moving to New York is that people have the potential for something other than unabashed rudeness. People in Washington were actually nice. The TSA guard at the airport even told me I did a “super job” going through security. What?

Despite the gloom, people in WA maintain a certain level of civility that the average New Yorker has replaced with a prickly exterior and no-nonsense attitude.  In simpler terms, it can be boiled down to a “get the f*ck out of my way” attitude. This isn’t anything new.

But you don’t really realize it when you’re here until you’ve been somewhere like WA that doesn’t feature four letter words in every sentence.

Example: Not two hours off the plane, I’m walking down the street in Brooklyn Heights (a respectable neighborhood by all accounts), exhausted from traveling when a crazy guy approaches. He leans up again the parking meter and stares me and Cady down. When we’re close enough he starts yelling.

“Jew!” he spits. “You stole my money. You stole the city’s money!”

Aw, jeez. Here we go again. I ignore him. Why waste time on someone who’s clearly deranged? “Jew!” he continues, scowling and yelling louder. The punk rocker walking behind us even shakes his head in disbelief.

“He’s not Jewish, he’s Puerto Rican asshole!” Cady yells back over her shoulder. (Have I mentioned she’s amazing?)  To which he replies, “You’re not Puerto Rican. Lies! Devil Child!” and some other incoherent pseudo-Christian nonsense about Mary (what role she played in the tirade is still unclear).

Leave it to NY to quickly remind me why living in the city is a mistake. First chance I get, I’m out of here. On the brightside though, now I have gentile/crazy person confirmation that I could pass for Jewish, which I guess is cool.

A Crazy Night at the UCB

Last night, I decided to forgo my regular Sunday night sketch writing class in order to head up to the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater and catch an improv show, Asssscat 3000. Feel free to laugh at the ridiculous name, but after last night’s show I’ve got a crazy amount of respect for Asssscat, treading the line somewhere between amazement and religious extremism.

Though it wasn’t without a twinge of guilt that I skipped my class, I took the train to Penn Station and waded through droves of Springsteen fans, all reeking of Jersey. Hoofing it down to the UCB theater, I waited in line for a few hours in the bizarrely temperate NY night and was finally let in.

The house was packed, most definitely a firefighter’s worst nightmare. Crammed in between two hipster strangers, I took a seat near the sound booth and patiently waited until the lights went down and the announcer riled up the crowd and announced the night’s performers.

Amy Poehler burst on stage to an ecstatic audience. Once the applause died down, she proceeded to introduce the rest of the performers: Neil Casey from Death by Roo Roo. Chris Gethard, a writer on SNL. Peter Gwinn,  writer on The Colbert Report.  Bobby Moynihan from SNL.  Jack McBrayer from 30 Rock. John Lutz from 30 Rock.  Seth Meyer from SNL. And finally, Jon Hamm, a.k.a. Don Draper, from Mad Men, performing monologues and forever haunting the dreams of the 14 to 44 year old women in the audience. (Mine too but don’t tell anyone.)

It’s obvious when people are doing what they love and every moment these performers were on stage, that kind of eager exuberance and unhinged enthusiasm for nailing a joke showed through with every ridiculous premise. These were seasoned professionals, not the unsure Improv 101 students still trying to find their funny legs like a recently born fawn. Even if things looked like they were on the point of derailing, someone would jump in and add something completely unexpected and perfectly suited – like a reference to time jumping Nazis. Who doesn’t love those?

The show was crass, fast and absolutely absurd. Between the cops who wouldn’t stop playing with themselves, the President who related everything to jackets, the foppishly horrific Dean Koontz (how do you pronounce his name without laughing?), a back-alley rapist, a fake Nathan Lane, a real Nathan Lane, Bruce Vilanch who might be Nathan Lane and of course Liz Horowitz whose only crime is that her personality is just a downer, there was not a dull note the whole show. Even Hamm’s plodding, dramatic monologues meant to spur on the improvisers had a detached air of irony as if he was still riding a wave of inebriation and wasn’t much concerned with anything except exuding cool. All in all, 2 hours of amazing.

To think that the whole show was free was just the cherry on top of an awesome Sunday sundae. Only in New York.

People Halloween

As if NY wasn’t weird enough, Halloween really brings out the freaks. Last night was the yearly Halloween Day parade and in typical NY fashion, the heavens opened up just as the parade started. Crammed between a Russian Strawberry Shortcake and a lady Ziggy Stardust, I cowered under a makeshift roof of umbrellas, catching only a passing glimpse of the ghouls and goblins as they lumbered down 6th.

With great power, comes an awesome costume

Embracing the inner nerd.

Just another typical New York night.

Pictured: a Disney fan, Spock, Kenny from “Can’t Hardly Wait”, Max, the Target Lady and Ziggy Stardust

As you might expect, the night was marked by the ubiquitous Max from “Where the Wild Things Are” and many failed attempts to do Falcon the “Bubble Boy.” I will admit that I was more than a little shocked that I did not see a single Michael Jackson the entire night. Frankly, this troubles me. Has Jackson been deified to the point where no one is willing to dress like zombie-Michael from the “Thriller” video because it might be deemed “too soon.” The guy was practically a walking Halloween costume when he was alive!

But, by far my favorite moment of the entire night was when a 2 year old in a stroller wheeled by his parents, Storm and Wolverine, started pointing at me in my Spider-Man costume — only to rip open his jacket to reveal his Venom t-shirt. I don’t know if he was trying to pick a fight but I think I have a new arch-nemesis.

Dog Halloween

New Yorkers do everything whole hog. Even dressing up their pets is the most absurd costumes. If you ever wanted to know what dog shame looked like, some of the pictures below might give you an idea.

Bat-dog and Robin: Keeping crime on a leash

Contest Wiener #2: Fire-dog

Looks like someone found the camera

“Kill me. Then kill my owner.”

Contest Wiener #5: The Tubular Duo

Contest Wiener #4: Dog-zilla

Later that night, Mincy hung herself with her leash.

Contest Wiener #3: Hot dog

Billy Dee Chihuahua

Yes, the other dogs make fun of him.

If Satan looks like this, hell sounds hilarious.

Do you think he knows he’s got a lobster on his back?

He’s got a hankering for some Scooby Snacks.

Contest Wiener #2: Kid’s movie version of “The Thing.”

Contest Wiener #1: The Great Pumpkin