Thursday, July 07, 2005

The Press

A message from my dear friend James Madison, a message that takes on extra significance in light of yesterday's jailing of The Times' Judith Miller:

"Among those principles deemed sacred in America, among those sacred rights considered as forming the bulwark of their liberty, which the government contemplates with awful reverence and would approach only with the most cautious circumspection, there is no one of which the importance is more deeply impressed on the public mind than the liberty of the press."

(source: NYT Lead Editorial. 7.7.05)

Friday, July 01, 2005

Huge Announcement

I have learned through an anonymous source--hopefully I won't face jail time for this revelation--that Queens of the Stone Age, Nine Inch Nails and Death From Above-1979 will be performing in Toronto, Ontario, Canada on November 11, 2005. I have also learned that ticket information on the show should be announced on or around July 17. Stay tuned for more details.

Monday, June 27, 2005

Funny Daves

It's kind of funny that so many guys named Dave, or David, are funny. My name is David, and I am funny. Miami Herald columnist Dave Barry is funny. And so is David Sedaris, whom, through stories in The New Yorker and on the recommendation of a couple of my buddies, I've begun reading. I recently completed his 2000 book, "Me Talk Pretty One Day." I never knew it was possible to laugh hysterically while reading a's a freakin book for C's sake, and it makes people laugh?! Golly gee, that's really somethin. Anyways, I thought I would share with my faithful blog readers some of my favorite samplings from Sedaris' book. Enjoy, and feel free to post your own, and offer me some suggestions for further reading.

On his grade school speech teacher, "Agent Samson":
"The woman spoke with a heavy western North Carolina accent, which I used to discredit her authority. Here was a person for whom the word pen had two syllables. Her people undoubtedly drank from clay jugs and hollered for Paw when the vittles were ready..."

On his father's boring, scientific explanations of the way things work:
"To this day, I prefer to believe that inside every television there lives a community of versatile, thumb-size actors trained to portray everything from a thoughtful newscaster to the wife of a millionaire stranded on a desert island. Fickle gnomes control the weather, and an air conditioner is powered by a team of squirrels, their cheeks packed with ice cubes."

Talking to the person from whom he used to buy drugs:
"I'm thinking of parceling off portions of my brain," I once told her. "I'm not talking about having anything surgically removed, I'd just like to divide it into lots and lease it out so that people could say, 'I've got a house in Raleigh, a cottage in Myrtle Beach, and a little hideaway inside a visionary's head.'"

On gender association with nouns in the French language:
"Of all the stumbling blocks inherent in learning this language, the greatest for me is the principle that each noun has a corresponding sex... . Because it is a female and lays eggs, a chicken is masculine. Vagina is masculine as well, while the word masculinity is feminine....What's the trick to remembering that a sandwich is masculine? What qualities does it share with anyone in possession of a penis? I'll tell myself that a sandwich is masculine because if left alone for a week or two, it will eventually grow a beard. This works until it's time to order and I decide that because it sometimes loses its makeup, a sandwich is undoubtedly feminine."
And one more gem on the French language: "Say what you want about southern social structure, but at least in North Carolina a hot dog is free to swing both ways."

On American movie theaters:
"(They) have begun issuing enormous cardboard trays, and it's only a matter of time before the marquees read 'Try Our Barbecued Ribs!' or 'Complimentary Baked Potato With Every 32 oz. Sirloin!...Today's hot dogs are only clearing the way for tomorrow's hamburgers, and from there it's only a short leap to the distribution of cutlery."

And finally....
"Nothing is more disgusting than a glass of milk, especially French milk, which comes in a box and can sit unrefrigerated for five months, at which point it simply turns into cheese and is moved to a different section of the grocery store."

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Is it True?

Is It True? The previous post about the spat between neighbors? Yes. It is true. That actually did happen. My neighbors and my household do not get along all.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Suburban Drama

Most folks would believe that the drama of a spat between neighbors is more likely to occur in inner city living quarters, as opposed to the wide street, tree-lined, winding wonder that is suburbia. Those folks would be wrong. Very wrong. Especially if they live near Blasdell, N.Y. What transpired over the past weekend did nothing to contribute to the village's nickname, "One square mile of heaven."

That's right, there was some drama. To understand what happened on Sunday (June 5), it helps to know what has occurred frequently over the last 20 or so years. See, my neighbors are mental. They don't like kids, and the old man of the house was a former K-Mart manager, before the days of Martha Stewart Omnimedia infiltrating the retailer, and he also enjoys holding regular conversations with his yard equipment. For instance, it's not uncommon to hear the guy chatting with his snowblower in the wintertime, or to hear him arguing with the lawnmower in spring and summer.

When I was growing up, my brother (who is 4 years older than I) and I would gather up some friends and play baseball, basketball or football at the homestead. As is likely to happen when kids are playing with balls-if I wanted to be more up to speed I might say, As is likely to happen when Michael Jackson is playing with balls-those balls find their way into the neighbor's yard. Most neighbors wouldn't mind a young'un walking over that metaphorical divided line of suburban bliss that is the fence to retrieve the wayward ball. Not our neighbors. They're psychotic.

It was not uncommon for my neighbors to call the police on me and my brother and our friends. It was a rather frequent occurrence, actually. Quite common, really. Indeed, it happened a lot during the summer months. D'Marcoly, I'm not quite sure what they expected the police to do. I sometimes hoped that the Cops TV show film crew would finally catch wind of these petty disputes and decide to tape some high-strung suburbanites screaming at innocent kids.

In one protest remeniscent of a 1960's sit-in, my friends and I were outside playing football in the street when the neighbor decided to thwart our game by parking his pickup truck along the street, in front of their house. Well, upon seeing him getting into the truck, clearly with the intent of parking it in the street, we decided to sit down on the road in front of his house, thereby prohibiting him from parking there. We refused to budge, even as he inched his forward, closer and closer still to our location. Finally, the jackass retreated.

Fast forward to this past Sunday...My little brother and his friends were playing ball and it hit the neighbor's fence. Their dog started charging toward the fence, barking. The neighbor's son then proceeded to yell at my bro and his friends for, in his opinion, taunting the dog. My father, outside doing some yard work, heard this and headed toward the fence. The two exchanged some rather unkind words. The neighbor's son then challenged my father to a duel in the middle of the road.

My father walked to the end of the driveway and proceeded to call said neighbor a "faggot." The neighbor then prompted my father to meet him in the street for said duel, but dad declined. Eventually, the son retreated but his father came out to holler at my father for apparently kicking out an old woman to obtain our house. He also made fun of the condition of our front porch. My dad continued calling the son and his father "faggots," and even courtsied to them, laughing the entire time. He enjoys pissing this idiots off that much.

Needless to say, as was expected, the police arrived shortly after the spat. The officer spoke with both parties then departed. What the heck else could he do anyway?! So that's my tale of suburban drama. Some folks say beware the city folk, what with their muggings, shootings and gang banging. I say, beware the 'burbs, what with their neighbors who charge out of the house in tight sweatpant-material shorts and no shirt, then yell at their wife--with whom they watch porn on a large screen tv in the living room, without drawing the blinds so that the tv is easily viewable to passersby--to go back in the house so as to protect thy fair woman.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Pardon my lateness

The last time I blogged was in November 2004. That was quite some time ago. Sadly, not a whole lot has gone on since that time. I'm still plugging away at my weekly newspaper job, earning a meager salary that puts me in line with Wal-Mart and Tops employees. So why am I back, you ask? Most of my friends know that I am, or at least was, anti-blog. In the beginning, I was intigued by blogging. I thought it was neat that I could share various stories with potentially millions of people, at least 99 percent of whom I've never and will never met/meet. Another reason I stopped blogging was because I really didn't have anything to blog about. If you didn't share in a magical moment of fun and fellowship with me, then you didn't. Why do you need to read about it the next day on my blog?!
Anyways, here are some recent happenings...
Thursday night I braved the torrential downpour/lightning storm we had. If I wasn't being blinded by the lightning I was blinded by the massive quantity of water rushing onto my windshield. Caution: Tailgating only exacerbates the problem! So, that was fun.
I also recently purchased the new Coldplay CD X&Y. Many of the songs on there are good, very good in fact. Particularly the hidden track (#13), called Kingdom Come, which is about Johnny Cash. Beautiful, beautiful stuff. The man in black would be ever so pleased...I think. How does it rate compared to other Coldplay discs, though? I don't know that they can top a masterpiece such as A Rush of Blood to the Head, and it's difficult to put it behind Parachutes, which is a good album, but this one is a bit better. The Buffalo News gave it a thumbs down, saying it was boring. That's wonderful. Blender Magazine gave it four stars. So go figure. Only offers further proof that critics are essentially meaningless! (Of course Blender's review appears on the cover of the CD, so perhaps the record company said to Blender: 'Hey, give this disc a good review and we'll slap your mag's name over half a million copies of the newest release by one of the hottest bands in the world.')
In other musical happenings, I am in the process of conjuring up the funds to see Coldplay when they come to Darien Lake. If anyone has any tickets they don't want, I'll gladly take them off your hands! I may also go see Weezer with the Pixies in Toronto...Speaking of Weezer, "Make Believe," their newest release, is horrible. It's not Weezer at all, it's some cheap half-hearted pop immitation of Weezer! Very disappointing.

Well, that's all for now. Please check back in another 7 months for my next post!