WoodstockGEN

Become an Internet DJ

2010-02-02T06:58:00.000-05:00

http://blip.fm/invite/vjbeau

Packrat Bums Revisited

2010-01-05T11:49:00.010-05:00

Ruben Freebird challenged me with his comment

"I dare you to write something nice about this particular experience."

Well Rube old friend let me tell you what I discovered. I saw him again and I approached him. Hand outstretched with a five dollar bill between my fingers I asked him "Sir, with that beard and all of your bags I assume you must be the young Santa Claus and somehow have lost your way in a time warp. You went through the backwards aging process (thus the dark beard) while entering my present time and your reindeers all died or perhaps they are not yet born." He seemed a little disoriented but acknowledged me with a nod and a crooked smile. He reached deep into one of his hefty bags and brought out a carton of milk and some fig newtons for us to share. I was so touched by his generous offer I said to him "Santa man, I will help you to buy new reindeers. Here is $40.00, five dollars a reindeer." The N train came to a screeching stop at 49th Street and I waved as I de-boarded.

The next day I came home to find my window broken in and my cheap alarm quietly chirping on weak batteries. I unlocked my door to enter while holding my breath, preparing myself for possession devastation. Nothing was touched or out of order except for a big black trash bag on my futon. Scared, I approached the bag with caution. Since it did not explode after being jabbed with a wooden spoon, I opened it to find a brand new Martin HD-28 Guitar. Please believe me as this is a true story.

Thank you Santa.

Packrat Bums

2009-12-28T01:16:00.002-05:00

You've seen them. The homeless people with a packrat problem. They have to save everything they find (weeds, rags, newspapers etc) in gigantic garbage bags. Usually they have a super market shopping cart and the bags are tied to the cart forming a giant blossoming black plastic bulging carnation looking thing. They can not leave their belongings and go to great lengths to get this nomadic bundle of shit down onto the subway stations.

This guy in the video shows up on my Astoria station with all this crap and holds up the train from leaving by putting one of his bags, carts, suitcases or whatever in the path of the closing door and then begins tossing the other bags into the train, colliding with passengers, causing them to flee.

He now has the entire back section of the train for himself. What the fuck is this all about?

Reading through my old posts.

2009-12-07T00:55:00.000-05:00

Thanksgiving just passed us by last week. I want to give thanks to everything I have that is good in my life, and to set some things straight. At least for my own soul since no one reads this anyway.

I just read about two hours worth of my blog posts and see that although I am funny, I rant about stuff that bothers me too much. I write as though everything pisses me off. Like a curmudgeon. In fact I am not a miserable person at all. I see humor in everything. I don't go around yelling at people and calling them assholes. I have a great family and friends.

I say that I write it like I see it and that is true. But I will try to concentrate on the good, the greatness that I see on a daily basis. Perhaps it will be boring.. maybe not. In this great city there is so much beauty.. in the parks, the wonderful old architecture, sights and smells that can keep a dead man alive for days, culture, restaurants, theater, museums, smiling faces etc.

I find it easier to write in a comedic vein than a serious one. Let's see if I can change. If I can't...well back to the subway bums and fat kids.

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE

2009-12-01T14:23:00.003-05:00

The way it is:

I have ranted about internet lurkers, leeches and takers before but now it has affected someone I deeply admire.
He goes by the name "Blindboy" among others..a blues mans non de plume, he is not really blind. He is a fantastic acoustic guitar player/teacher from Liverpool and has hundreds of videos on youtube using the name "deltabluestips" If you play guitar, you will greatly benefit from his lessons. Check him out.

Unfortunately he is finding out that being a nice guy will get him NOWHERE on the parasitic cesspool of users and takers we call the internet. People all over the world rave about how much they have benefited from his free lessons, but comments will not pay his rent. He accepts donations and sells his archived video collection of his hundreds of lessons for a mere 65 British Pound ($108.17 US)

This guy is worth his weight in gold and he is finding it very difficult these days making a living.
He says he is being supported by the same handful of happy guitar pickers and doesn't want to "go commercial" because that isn't the person he is. He loves giving but now realizes that that is the only way it will ever be. He gives, they take, they take, they take etc.

The people that read my blog are the same way. All I ask for is comments, not money, and you fucking damned to hell takers sit there lurking with your obese bodies, hideous faces, ugly children and a thumb that reeks of the shit from a dead animal!

Nuff said

ON & OFF

2009-11-20T12:48:00.004-05:00

Ok, I need a place to vent so I will put this blog up now and then when I need to yell at a wall with shit that concerns me. It seems that my nature is of an observant type and most people don't see what I do. Thus I just bore them to tears or they say "why do you let that bother you?, or "I've never seen that!"

I am not out to offend anyone and if I do, take a deep breath, a few steps back and let it sink in. If you don't agree with me then Please please...make comments. What do I have to do to make you comment on my posts? Should I offend every race and religion and all mothers to rouse you into using your fingers? Don't piss me off because I might....

GOING DOWNNNnnnnnnn! FRIDAY SEPT 25th

2009-09-23T00:09:00.005-04:00

This blog, WOODSTOCKGEN is going to be closed down down on Friday, September 25th 2009 due to lack of support. Too many lurkers and ABSOLUTELY ZERO comments led me to this decision. Thanks to the readers. I hope I made you laugh. If not... I really don't give a shit!
I fucking hate Lurkers. Thank you Brooklyn, London and New Jersey for taking and not giving. You are the ones that closed this blog.

All I need is for a regular reader to comment or send an email and I will keep up this lunacy. If not..It was a hell of a ride.

2009-09-09T17:26:00.003-04:00

I have been into Magic and Mentalism for thirty five years. I am a collector of all categories of books on close up, stage and illusion magic. This video here by Master Illusionist Kevin James totally astounds me. Amazing stuff...watch it.

INTELLIGENT DESIGN

2009-08-27T10:39:00.003-04:00

This topic is something that somehow I have always felt to be true, but only recently have I been "googling" to find answers.

Intelligent Design is not Creationism, but close to it. All of this perfection (mutations permitted to manifest is normal) and beauty of every living species just crawled out of primordial sludge and started to evolve? Please, give one big break and save your big bang for campfire stories. I am not a scientist. I am not eloquent enough to speak. Please take the time to read excerpts from scholars who offer enough food for thought.

An excerpt from TELEGRAPH.co.uk titled,
"Intelligent Design is not Creationism"

In recent years, biologists have discovered an exquisite world of nanotechnology within living cells - complex circuits, sliding clamps, energy-generating turbines and miniature machines. For example, bacterial cells are propelled by rotary engines called flagellar motors that rotate at 100,000rpm. These engines look like they were designed by engineers, with many distinct mechanical parts (made of proteins), including rotors, stators, O-rings, bushings, U-joints and drive shafts.

The biochemist Michael Behe points out that the flagellar motor depends on the co-ordinated function of 30 protein parts. Remove one of these proteins and the rotary motor doesn't work. The motor is, in Behe's words, "irreducibly complex".

This creates a problem for the Darwinian mechanism. Natural selection preserves or "selects" functional advantages as they arise by random mutation. Yet the flagellar motor does not function unless all its 30 parts are present. Thus, natural selection can "select" the motor once it has arisen as a functioning whole, but it cannot produce the motor in a step-by-step Darwinian fashion.

Checkout this video from a book titled "Signature in the cell" by Stephen C. Meyer

MY SON ROCKS ON MY FUTON

2009-08-25T15:13:00.002-04:00

REJECTED

2009-08-20T13:02:00.002-04:00

Ever been put in that uncomfortable spot when someone asks for your cell phone number but you really don't want to give it out? Here is the official New York Rejection Line.

212-479-7990

FLASHBACK: Only 14 minutes of fame remaining

2009-08-18T14:49:00.003-04:00

Pitching a pup tent on a grassy hill is not smart as I found out.

WOODSTOCK 40: OVER--PART TWO

2009-08-17T21:41:00.003-04:00

This is my last of two utterances concerning the "Woodstock Experience"

WOODSTOCK FESTIVAL, AUGUST 1969

2009-08-07T11:19:00.002-04:00

Three Days of Peace and Music (yeah, right!!)

I am reprinting this article from a 2005 post since this month is the 40th Anniversary of the event. I was at the NY1 studios this past week being interviewed for a thirty minute Woodstock special that is supposed to air in about two weeks. I gave them my short two or three minute film I shot on an ancient 8mm camera. We'll see if my film or I make the cut.

Being that this month markes the 40th anniversary of this fabled event, I decided to unleash my recollections of this very famous and overhyped event. It's funny how an epic event such as the Woodstock Festival has been part of American folklore and Rock & Roll for decades. Ask any teenager today and even they have heard of it. Amazing.... I still don't know what the big deal is anyway. Keep reading and you'll hear it as I SAW IT! After all...isn't that what I do here anyway?

Queens, NYC August 1969

I couldn't believe the lineup. When the concert information first began to hit the hot dirty stoned out streets of NY it was all anybody talked about. I had spent the later part of my teens seeing the best rock groups in the world right here in my little world. Central Park's Schaeffer Beer concerts in the summer, the Legendary Fillmore East, Madison Square Garden, 14th Streets Academy of Music and small Greenwich Village clubs.
THIS WAS DIFFERENT.....They were "All going to be there" All of them! Practically every famous rock group, icons and idols of this counterculture were slated to appear. Unbelievable. Thank you God for letting me live in New York because the festival was about two hours away by bus. The original plan was to have it in the actual town of Woodstock, NY but was changed after the residents freaked out over the freaks that would take over their acorn of a town. The new location, Bethel NY was even closer anyway. I forgot how much the tickets were but I bought one along with my friends Susan and Kenny Johnson. Talk about excitement! Everyone in my neighborhood was going whether they had a ticket or not. Even that drunken quadrapalegic Crazy Mary was going. As a matter of fact....most of the divided groups of the neighborhood were going. We had the Longhaired Rockers from Behrens Ice Cream Parlor, the Lithuanian Pillhead Jonas and his group of white shirt and tie wearing nodders who knew nothing about current rock music unless you could buy it with a prescription. The greasers were going led by Ritchie the Fish.
Even the collegiate crowd were going. They were the ones that wore saddle shoes or penny loafers (with the penny in the slot of course), madras shirts, chinos and lots of navy blue and maroon sweaters.

In other words....E v e r y o n e was going!!

Cut to the first day of the festival...
The bus left Port Authority and dropped us off right at the makeshift entrance gate to Max Yasgur's farm.
That day the weather was nice and there were a lot of people pitching tents on the side of the hill and settling in. Things looked very promising. Then we heard that a group of kids kept knocking down the wire fences that were built to keep out the non ticket holders and from now on it will be a free concert. Being a broke opportunist I quickly ran down to the entrance and when a group of newcomers spilled out of the next bus I started yelling "tickets here, who needs tickets?" In a matter of minutes I was able to unload the three tickets. Yay! now we can buy food!
Next stop....Water! We had brought a few canteens with us and now we need to find a water source. We found one. That's all there was...ONE! There was a pipe sticking out of the ground on a small hill and very long line of people carrying all types of jugs and containers to store the water. Curiously there was one hippy dude in charge of this makeshift oasis holding a small bottle and eyedropper of what he said was chlorine. As each camper filled their container, Mr Lord of the Water would squeeze a drop of chlorine into it..for our own safety of course.
Back to the tent now. Oh yeah, thats another thing, this tent. Being from the city and never having camped before, we hadn't a clue on proper tent pitching and survival in the wilds of a dairy farm. This was a two man pup tent and there were three of us....first mistake! We pitched it on a hill with only the grass and dirt under us and no tarp or plastic of any sort....mistake number two!
The hillside and the entire festival site soon became so crowded it was impossible to find enough ground space for even half a pup tent. We were lucky that we got there when we did. Still it was up to this point quite pleasant. There were many VW mini busses painted with peace signs and psychedelica everywhere. Shirtless freaks throwing frisbee's. Hippy moms in granny dresses breast feeding their babies while smoking a joint. Typical "afternoon in the park" activities for 1969.

We meet a guy on a motorcycle sitting next to us that just came back from VietNam and we adopt him. He wants to know where to get water so I volunteer to take him to the "pipe". I get on the back of his bike and as we start down the hill I start having out of body feelings. As hard as I try to hold on to the seat I keep letting go as if I were about to be lifted. I shake my head, force my eyeballs to stay open but keep falling backwards. Next thing I knew I was floating above the bike holding my own head as if it were somebody elses and I weighed nothing. I was like a flag attached to a hat....flapping in the wind. You know that fun feeling you have when you stick your hand out the window of a fast moving car and keep moving it in wavelike patterns? That was me.
CHLORINE? .... My ASS!!

Hours later, after an endless discussion about the uncanny similarities between Jesus, Jerry Garcia and Snoopy, it was time to head off to the stage area.
The sun was burning up the field where the multitudes gathered. The evil humidity opening every pore on ones body. There wasn't one guy who wasn't shirtless, sweaty and caked with dried dirt, grass stains or a sample of Mr Yasgurs prize cow offerings. Techies and roadies were climbing towers setting speakers, dragging miles of cable across the plywood stage floor and yelling alot. We sat on a patch of dirt and crushed brown grass directly in front of the stage. And waited...and waited...and waited. Are we having fun yet?

Sundown
Ahh the first act of the festival, Richie Havens. Now I always liked Richie but the trouble was....I've seen him a hundred times before. You couldn't go any free concert, demonstration or peace rally without seeing him!
Ok..he really outdid himself so all is forgiven. My memory is a shade blurry about the exact order but I think the next group was an unknown band that even after the festival remained unknown called "Quill".
John Sebastian did his usual smoked out "wow, man's" with complete yellow tie dyed jeans and tee shirt outfit.

On to the major discovery of the fest. SANTANA! Oye Como Va!!!!
Unbelievable...blew everyone away! No one back then had ever seen a combination Latino/Rock group before, and so diverse. Timbales, Congas, Drumsets, Organs, Freaky Mexicans, White Guys and Bro's with Fro's.
Word is that when the concert promoters asked San Francisco's Rock Czar and Fillmore owner Bill Graham for his permission to get the Greatful Dead, he agreed on the condition that they take a new unknown band of his, called Santana. I remember watching this very greasy and sleezy guitar player (Carlos Santana) and saying to myself "this guy is so fuckin ugly but man can he play that guitar!" As the story is told..Carlos wasn't supposed to go on till the night so he swallowed some mescaline and just when it hit him was told that they changed the schedule and he had to go on Now! WoooHoooo!

If this is getting too long for you (ADD/ADHD) readers out there I can stop if you like? No? Ok I'll finish then...

Then the Rains Came..
And kept coming....Horrific winds and horizontal jellybean rain like you wouldn't believe. The ground, after drinking its share of water was now full and would accept no more, so it turned the field into a giant sandbox filled with tons of M U D! Walking through the mire and muck really blew. Everyone lost their shoes and besides the raindrops and ear shattering thunder all you heard was the sucking sound the mud made with every attempted step towards the home base. People were falling into it and getting pulled under like quicksand. Although half the crowd was naked you couldn't tell anymore.
I remember thinking that I wanted to go home but that couldn't happen because the NY State Thruway was closed on account of the thousands of abandoned cars leading to the festival.

Back to our tent.
Hey, when they say it can't get no worse...They're full of shit. It can. It did! As I said earlier in this seemingly never ending post, we pitched the tent on a hill with no plastic under it. Well guess what? Our sleeping bags were now giant sponges. Tired, wet and hungry we laid down on our sleeping bags ignoring the squishy squish sounds our Coleman Sleeping Spongebags made and tried to sleep. The thunder and lightning were relentless. The real stoners were out and about dancing naked in it and now I had to take a leak Christ!!.

Porto-San
The festival brought in those portable telephone booth sized toilets that you see in parks and construction sites. Not anticipating half a million people there weren't enough. I think they probably would have been fine if the turnout was like maybe....oh let's say 200. There were of course long lines to use these facilities but the real fun was going inside one. Every one of them was not only filled to the top of the seat but actually overflowing. I was wondering why the flies I saw were as large as sparrows. I thought it was just the lingering effects of the chlorine I ingested..

Jefferson Airplane, Greatful Dead, Janis? Don't give a shit....wanna go home!!
I don't remember anything after that night except laying on Sponge Bob and hearing my favorite bands playing in the distance, knowing there is no way in hell I am going to trek through that mud and shit again just to have to sit in the mud and shit. I'm in my little patch of Woodstock now. In my tent, legs sticking out getting drenched. Don't Fuck With Me or I'll Fucking Kill You! (and your little dog, too)

Going Home
Just like Alvin Lee of the band "Ten Years After" sang 'Goin Home'.... so was I. The Thruway was now open again. The festival farm area looked like a giant garbage barge without seagulls, just those cute sparrow sized flies. We had about 2 miles to walk to where we could either hitch a ride or catch a bus back to the city. I really don't remember how we got home. On the way down this road was a beautiful fresh looking lake on the right side of the road. The sun was finally out again and starting to heat up the air again. I decided to roll up my pants and wade in the cool water to get a little taste of nature and to refresh myself. The rocks were slimy and slippery and I slipped and stepped on a piece of rock that resembled Armando's switchblade. Like a scene from Hitchcock's "Psycho" the clear water turned to blood and as I tried to get back to the waters edge I fell over and just laid there in the water laughing and screaming like an insane hyena.

Back in NYC
Apparantly the festival was big big news in the city for three days, showing coverage on every tv station. We were hero's returning from the battlefield. We were survivors. Everyone asked for the details. Now it's 36 years later and people still ask for details. You have seen one mans story out of 500,000. Find another Woodstock '69 vet and ask them what they remember. Don't forget to ask them about the chlorinated water.

Finis

Tom Rush....I think....

2009-08-04T00:35:00.001-04:00

Always Loved This Song

2009-08-04T00:16:00.001-04:00

OBESE CHILDREN

2009-07-05T00:31:00.004-04:00

Nothing infuriates me more that seeing a family on the street or in a subway with a fat 8 year old!
This kid has a fat head, a fat face, a fat body, fat arms, fat legs... In other words..he is a lard ass!!

I feel sorry for the kid, but feel greater Hatred for the parents that allowed this to happen. These parents should be charged with child abuse and endangerment.

"Oh but we try, but he always cries and screams that he is hungry and only McDonalds will please him"

I say FUCK YOU you ignorant parent. Shame on you! You should NOT be parents..you are fucking morons with NO RIGHT to have children!

We should all take a course, be tested, pass a test and have to obtain a license to have a child.

Michael Jackson 1958 - 2009

2009-06-25T22:40:00.004-04:00

HIPFUCKINGHOORAY!!!!!

The world is a little safer now that another pedophile is dead and hopefully in HELL!

Hopefully his three white children can find their real father.

"Billy Jean is not my lover..." NO Shit Michael..you don't like girls!

"The kid is not my son..." Another NO SHIT Michael. You ain't ever poked a puss in your life.

I am so Happy that I won't have to see or hear about you anymore. You were the ultimate freak with your fucking nose falling off and your sterile masks and hiding your kids faces. Jeez what a sick fuck.

I am so sorry for the decent citizens of Hell. Having to look at and hear him sing for an eternity, crotch grabbing and all. May this be one huge deterrent to avoid Hell any way you can.

More wasted in Produce Land

2009-06-20T01:52:00.002-04:00

I admit that when I need to make my clam chowder or Linguini with Clam sauce I need parsley. I have to buy a whole bunch instead of what I need and throw the rest away.
What I have come up with to solve this problem is thus: Theft. Take ONE celery stalk or a few sprigs of parsley. If you get busted..no big deal..Say you weren't thinking and give it back.

Wasted in Produce Land

2009-06-18T11:35:00.002-04:00

I have to vent about celery.

I need one stalk to make ... let's say tuna fish for a sandwich. I use half a stalk. Or when I make my famous chicken soup I use two stalks, perhaps three if I am in a balls to the wall mood.
I go to a grocery store, super market, produce stand etc and celery can only be bought/sold in a bunch! What then happens is that the majority of the bunch gets tossed after a few day of being useless in my fridge.
I can buy one single carrot, one mushroom, one jalapeno pepper, one cauliflower or broccoli floret etc. What's with celery? Does the Mafia have control over packaging celery? There are many people that live alone or just two together. What are we to do? Do I have to google "Celery Recipes" or eat the celery with dips and peanut butter just to get my moneys worth? My teeth can't handle all that celery.

C'mon Celery Growers...think about it. You might even make more money selling individually wrapped celery stalks like they do with the european cukes.

GOTTA SEE!

2009-06-14T11:26:00.002-04:00

Every once in a while some new talent captures my attention, my imagination or my musical funnybone. Check out this artsy music video. Francis and the Lights!

30 SECONDS CAN MEAN EVERYTHING

2009-06-09T14:49:00.002-04:00

Last night while walking from a favorite Sunday night French Bistro, my friend and I had to step from the curb to the street due to a very large puddle. This puddle is not uncommon and our routine of stepping onto First Avenue by stepping off the curb between two parked cars and then walk along the sides of the cars to the corner is normal. Just before the corner there are concrete dividers in the street. Ok, so we walk along the sides of these dividers and finally get to the corner where we wait for the light to turn green.

I hear a very loud POP and see that a speeding taxi had his tire blowout. The cab started swerving and banging into the dividers with total loss of control. He gets past the dividers and careens into the back of a parked car. The same exact spot that we just were 30 seconds ago. In fact the same route that we just walked seconds ago.

If I would have gotten killed last night at least I had one helluva last supper.

ANTOINETTE PERRY AWARDS (The Tony Awards)

2009-06-04T14:01:00.004-04:00

Here I am with my first and only TONY AWARD which I won for a play I wrote called "The USHER CHRONICLES" or "Sit Here Bitch." The play ran 29 previews at the Morosco Theatre, and 3 performances before closing on June 14th, 1903. The critics agreed that it was too accurate and close to home and made everyone cry, some with laughter, others disgust but a revelation to the misunderstood life in the front of the theatre.

I received the coveted award under the "Best Playwright that we hope to never see again" category.

Smoking Cessation

2009-06-04T13:52:00.003-04:00

This is a personal post.

Three friends of mine: Moe, Larry and Curly... Nah that's been done already. Let me now call them Jerry, Roger & Kevin.

Ok here we go ... HEY DUMBASSES ..... STOP SMOKING!!!

No more bums.... sort of..

2009-06-04T13:39:00.002-04:00

I stopped smoking last December 30th. I tried for years and all that happened was my cigarette consumption doubled and I acquired chronic bronchitis. I just "manned" up and cold turkied the shit out of it with the help of three days worth of nicotine gum.

Besides getting my health back and not spending $18.00 a day, (NYC cigs are nine bucks a pack) a perk I hadn't though of is that Cigarette moochers and smelly homeless bums don't approach me anymore. When you walk down the streets of this city with a smoke in your hand, or a bulging front breast shirt pocket showing a bright red Marlboro pack in it, or you are opening a fresh pack over a litter basket... you are carrion. The vultures swoop down and ask "Do have a spare cigarette?" I usually say "Are you related to Ramona?" The previous line is only funny to those in the know. Just ignore that line..thanks

Mussels in the Jewish section

2008-11-10T22:41:00.002-05:00

The Le Marais section of Paris is one of the oldest sections and has the best bargain eateries. It is an old Jewish area and has lots of gays and artists. I found this little cafe that specialized in my favorite foods..Mussels cooked in wine. Compared to the ritzy section my hotel was in this was the best food for very few Euros.

Le Monde (Pr: Le Moondeh)

2008-11-10T22:27:00.000-05:00

To all those that asked "Can you read French?"

Sacre Coeur

2008-10-23T01:42:00.002-04:00

More Pics

2008-10-13T23:46:00.004-04:00

Fish n Chips

2008-10-13T23:43:00.003-04:00

This Fish n Chips from an English pub tasted the same as any other Fish n Chips I've ever had.

Squatter

2008-10-13T23:39:00.003-04:00

Found in a cafe in the Montmartre (Pr: Moo mah)
Old time "Squat Toilet" Just stand on the foot rests, squat, aim and..well you know.......!

Views from abroad

2008-10-13T23:19:00.004-04:00

London and Paris.
L'Autre: The Best Polish-Mexican restaurant I ever ate in.

Al Pacino Speaking French

2008-10-06T18:50:00.005-04:00

Well here I am in Paris (and you're not!)
I love TV in foreign countries. I forgot the name of this Al Pacino movie where he plays a lawyer..but I was laughing my ass off with the French voice over. See for yourself.

EUROPEAN VACATION

2008-10-02T08:41:00.002-04:00

I haven't been blogging lately because I have nothing to say. Same old, same old. New York is still great. The economy sucks. I have a new guitar. SEE...I told you I had nothing interesting to say.

BUT! Tonight I leave for foggy old London and then Paris. I am bringing my laptop so when not eating, I might share some of my observations of the British and the French.
Wow! Won't that be fun! Well..it will for me at least.

SUGARLAND

2008-09-03T12:30:00.000-04:00

Brooklyn, New York and Lou Reed

2008-07-11T01:59:00.000-04:00

BRAD PAISLEY w ALISON KRAUSS

2008-06-23T12:42:00.000-04:00

DAD MISSING

2008-06-09T01:08:00.004-04:00

I miss my son. I miss being a Dad.

I loved being a father to a great boy. A boy who loved me and longed to be with me. Hang out and have the best times on Sundays, whether it be a movie, restaurants, museums or art festivals. We had the greatest times a father and son, best buddies could ever dream of. I miss holding his little hand as we walked the crosswalk at the farmers market in Dekalb county. I miss putting on his seatbelt in my car. I remember when he was little and had to undergo a hernia surgery. I smoked a million cigarettes outside the lobbys' doors worrying. "What if" kept going through my mind. What if some one in a million accident occurred and I lost my only son, my best friend. Mental Devastation! That time when I overslept and didn't pick him up. He waited patiently and when I finally called I explained that I went grocery shopping and then I fell asleep. In his young high pitched voice he said "You fell asleep at the grocery store"?

He loved me so much but now I am in the way. That happens all the time and I knew it from the start but didn't think it would happen to me but it has. I am now an asshole. I don't know what I'm talking about. I get yelled at. No birthday cards, no fathers day cards, no christmas cards. He loves me to pieces but he is too busy to make a call. Too busy to send a gift or a card.

He is a very talented musician and photographer/filmmaker. I'm proud of him. He's almost finished college so what am I complaining about? He is too much like me and it's almost like watching a myself growing up all over again. I knew I shouldn't have named him after me. I wonder if would have grown up different if I named him something plain like Bob or Chuck?

THE OTHER SIDE...1969

2008-06-02T15:42:00.009-04:00

Sal was my best friend back in the summer of 1969. We were the neighborhood "freaks" because of our outrageous long and frizzy hair. Lower middle class hippies, which was pretty much the norm back then. This night in particular was starting out to be straight from the Paddy Chayefsky book/movie "Marty" where Marty and his friend are bored and their conversation goes something like "So uh what do you want to do Marty"? - "I don't know, what do You want to do"? - "I dunno, what do You wanna do"? etc etc etc.....
Sal and I were walking aimlessly in the New York August heat and humidity often referred to as "soup". We came to a corner under the "A" trains elevated subway tracks and stood there for a minute before getting caught in that "Marty" back and forth bored banter. Pigeons were flapping around above us under the rail supports. We moved to avoid getting shit on. We weren't That bored! On the other side of this street (Liberty Avenue) was a very old cemetery called Acacia. As Sal and I were almost ready to start walking again I noticed something from the cemetery gate in my peripheral vision so I turned to face it. Sal was saying something but my glaze was fixed on the old rusted wrought iron gate. "There it is again" I said pointing to the gate. "What.."? said Sal. It wasn't there. I kept looking and caught it once it surfaced again. It appeared to be a man in a white shirt almost as though he floated up from the vines and bushes that entangled themselves between the old ironworks. It was moving it's hands in a peculiar way as if it was telling us to either go away, come here or just waving hello.
I poked Sal, not wanting to take my eyes away from this specter or what ever the fuck it was.
Sal looked and finally saw it. It kept a steady slow motion bobbing up and down and it was very pale. Almost translucent. "Holy Fuck" cried Sal and the next thing I knew he was a block away running like he saw a ghost, which is exactly why I started running in that "feets don't fail me now" mode. Sal finally stopped running and when I caught up with him he was leaning over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. We were both as sweaty as city street pigs and as pale white as our old catholic school uniform shirts. "What the fuck was that anyway man, huh"? asked Sal. "I don't know, but sure as shit looked like a fuckin ghost to me" I said.
Still huffing and puffing Sal said "Man c'mon and lets get the fuck outta here and go to the diner". "Good idea and we have to go back there tomorrow and see what the story is".
"Ok?" . . .. "OK!"

The next day we bravely walked to the scene of the apparition. Funny how one becomes very brave in the light of day. We crossed the street and slowly walked to the old gates. What we saw really spooked us and gave us only two possible scenarios. On the other side of the gate was a drop. The ground was not level with the street as we had imagined. The cemetery ground with the cracked tombstones was about fifteen feet below from where the gate was.
The possibilities are: A person went into that rat infested area at 10 O'clock on a hot Friday night with a white shirt and whiteface makeup and a very tall ladder. He waited hours before someone would walk by just to act like a spirit of sorts so to scare the crap out of them......
The other possibility was. It was a Fucking Ghost!!

HAUNTED MEMORIES 1959

2008-05-28T18:19:00.007-04:00

I can still see it as if it happened yesterday. I have always thought of it and many times have told it to friends. This story is true.
It was a very rainy summer day in Ozone Park, Queens NY. My cousin Suzanne and I were at my grandmothers house. I was eight and she was twelve years old. We were tired of playing indoors and longed to be outside in the backyard. The backyard was a typical one for this neighborhood. The houses were huge. Sometime later they were called three family houses but back then they were occupied by one large family including relatives. Today they have been bought up by Indians and converted into multiple apartments, rooms and studio apartments each capable of housing fourteen independent apartments.
The back yard had a garage big enough for three 1940's and 50's sized sedans. To the right of the garage was an unpaved section. There was some grass in patches and a tomato garden that my grandmother loved to tend to. In front of this garage and grass patch was concrete. The cement went from the base of the house to these two areas.
There was a window in my Aunt Juliette's bedroom that looked out onto the yard. My cousin and I were kneeling by the window, chins resting on our hands which were resting on the windows ledge. We just watched the rain wanting it to stop, sighing a little because we knew our parents would soon scoop us up and take us home.
The rain came down even harder now and we saw a vapor, like steam on the cement in front of the garage. We looked at each other, then harder at the mysterious vaporlike smoke. The vapor rose revealing a dog materializing from the solid cement. First we saw a black furry back, then the head and the tail. The legs rose too, forming a complete mongrel mutt of a dog.
It's coat was blacker than any black I have ever seen and it was wet from the rain.
My cousin and I both turned to look at each other, mouths agape in amazement. We looked back to this sight and that's when we first saw the mongrels face. It had a yellowish pus-like goo dripping from one side of its mouth and Human Eyes! It was staring at us and when we made eye contact it bared its teeth and and shook its head as if shaking away the yellow gop and rain water and we noticed that it had two sets of crooked teeth. The teeth went in all directions and almost tusklike, like a wild boar. But the eyes were horrible. Dark, Human eyes with dilated pupils staring at us. My cousin wet herself and started to cry. The dog stopped looking at us and just bolted out of our sight. Just as fast as it rose from the wet concrete it vanished.
We ran through the house to the living room where our parents, aunts and uncles were. After we told them what we saw they all kind of laughed and of course didn't believe us. My aunt Antoinette listened attentively and went back to look out the window with us. She asked to describe the dog and we both gave her the same description. She said "You know, Mr Devito next door keeps his hunting dogs behind that fence at the far end of the yard, don't you"?
"Yes" I said remembering feeling both sorry and scared of them because of the small filthy area Devito kept them in. Also whenever you went back there they would snarl, growl and bark their fucking heads off. "Well one of his dogs died last week and he buried it behind the garage" my aunt informed us. "Maybe you saw its ghost" she said and chuckled as she kissed us on the cheek and left to join the other adults.

This happened nearly fifty years ago and every few years or so I talk with my cousin on the phone we still remember this in detail. I don't know what happened that day but it WAS some real scary shit!

CHEAP PEOPLE HAVE NO REASON TO LIVE

2008-05-01T15:24:00.003-04:00

Ushers

2008-04-24T02:18:00.003-04:00

Somewhere in the outpatient clinic walls of Bellevue Hospital there must be an "Ushers Needed" sign. How else would you describe the insanity of a large majority of Broadway Ushers?

NATIONAL ABUSE YOUR TV DAY

2008-02-03T11:28:00.000-05:00

YOUR TV IS YOUR FRIEND

Today is Super Bowl Sunday. Millions of Americans will tune their TV sets to the game tonight.
If it weren't for your set it wouldn't be possible.

So then why will millions of Americans Yell and Scream at the medium that is bringing you this annual show.

Please once and for all, be nice to your TV set and stop Yelling at it!

EASTERN EUROPEAN RIVER CRUISE

2007-12-08T23:13:00.001-05:00

BUCHAREST ROMANIA:
I recently took a ten day Danube River Cruise. We started our trek by flying to Bucharest Romania, a place I never imagined I would ever be. I was hoping to meet a distant relative of the worlds most vicious serial killer, Vlad the Impaler but to no avail.

I learned a few tidbits of info while in Romania. One being that the Romanian language is one of the "Romance" languages. It is very similar to Italian. ie: Pharmacy is Pharmacia..etc. How many out there knew that, let's see a show of hands. Yep, just as I thought.

Bucharest was interesting. Everyone works and it is teeming with industrious people still trying to rise above the yoke of the old iron curtain days which officially ended in 1989. On route to the SOFITEL Hotel from the airport I passed row after row of auto dealers on land that used to be farm land. I was amazed as we drove past Mercedes, Lexus, BMW, Jaguar dealers, especially when I found out the average monthly income is just $500.00 US.

Downtown Bucharest was a trip. Beside advertising everywhere, McDonalds and Taco Bells with outdoor patios, the remnants of the fallen communist state was everywhere in those gray lincoln log pre-fab project type apartment buildings you see in communist era movies or in old issues of Pravda.

The Hotel gave no insight to where we actually were. I could have been in the middle of any modern american city. Going outside for a smoke was a different scene. Hundreds of Romanians raced to the busses and street trams to get to work. They appreciate their jobs and their meager income. Hard working people. Not to mention that the woman are Total Babes!

THE FOOD:

As a group we were taken to a restaurant that was supposed to be where the "Locals" go to in order for us to taste authentic Romanian cuisine. It was a tourist trap with terrible stuffed cabbage and bad plum brandy, followed by Romanian folk dancers. Awful..puke food!

CONSTANTA, ROMANIA:

We left the hotel by bus to the Bucharesti Train Station to board a train to the Black Sea Port City of Constanta (pronounced Constantza). Not much to see out the window except small gypsy camps here and there. I found out that the gypsies originate from northern India.

The dinning car was the most fun. This guy in the kitchen would make anything you wanted such as sandwiches for around $1.50. He let me smoke in the back of the kitchen with all the flys but he gave me my own ashtray so it was worth the swatting. We arrived in Constanta and boarded our river ship.

Next morning was a tour of Constanta. This is a very important seaport city on the Black Sea. It's also a big vacation area with beaches along its shore and to the north is a resort area called Mamaia. It's like a Romanian Miami Beach. Getting hungry now so I head back to the ship and will write more tomorrow.

ANGELA LANSBURY

2007-12-08T23:01:00.000-05:00

YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST!

After Angela Lansbury completed her last Broadway show "Deuce" on August 19th 2007, a two woman show co-starring Marion Seldes, she said in an interview that this was her swan song. Eight shows a week were too tiring for the 80+ actress and she is retiring. Aha!

I saw her in the lobby of the Lyceum Theatre this afternoon at the matinee performance of the Mark Twain comedy, "Is He Dead?" I started talking to her and asked her if she was really retiring. She said that at the most she won't do a two woman show again. Our favorite Mrs Lovett will be back in one form or another. Thank you....

WINTER IS FINALLY HERE

2007-12-04T13:18:00.000-05:00

Thank God that stupid Stagehands strike is over. I missed three paychecks over that debacle.

Too bad Johnny Gallagher Jr is leaving the cast of Spring Awakening. He will leave some very big shoes to fill.

I miss hanging with my buddy Ruben Rivera now that we are both at different theatres.

I saw Dustin Hoffman the other nite at "Is He Dead". It's the new Mark Twain comedy at the Lyceum Theatre and I'm not trying to be funny but his face looks dusty.

BACKSTAGE EAVESDROPPING

2007-06-04T16:11:00.000-04:00

BRIAN DENNEHY QUOTE

At the backstage door of the Lyceum Theatre, a fan asked Brian Dennehy if he was related to Paul Dennehy, a police officer in New Jersey. Mr Dennehy replied "I am related to every police officer in the United States"

Gotta love him!

MORE McIDIOTS

2007-05-27T12:16:00.000-04:00

Flash: English not spoken at Astoria McDonalds

I causes me great embarrassment to have to add another MickeyD story to the blog. It makes me look like a junk food eater and one with nothing to do or say. These idiots must be exposed for what they are .

A new MickeyD's opened 6 months ago and they Never get any order right. I figured that was normal and they now must be on track..Wrong!

Me: Yes, can I have a cheeseburger and a fajita.
Her: How many cheeseburgers?
Me: I said "A" cheeseburger.

there were no more chicken fajitas so the manager and three others started to find the stuff to make one. I get it, walk to the door and notice there is no sauce. I head back to the counter.

Me: Hi, can I get some HOT Sauce for my fajita please.
Her: Hot or Mild?
Me: Holy Shit Lady!!!
Other customers: Shaking their heads and laughing.

Open the fajita and half of it was freezing cold. Went to manager and demanded my money back. He obliged and wanted me to have a free apple pie. I kept on saying no thank you but he insisted I take it. I took it and dunked it in the closest trash can.

The end

SARA

2007-05-27T02:05:00.000-04:00

Sara in San Fran

GOOD LUCK!

QUESTIONS AND OBSERVATIONS

2007-05-25T11:11:00.001-04:00

My mind is always active with useless shit.

I have a friend named Ruben. I wonder when he eats a Ruben sandwich if he knows he is actually eating himself.

I saw A Chorus Line last night for the first time in twenty four years. It was dated and really sucked!!

I live in a very Greek neighborhood now. Why do all the old Greeks always go around saying "Are You Greek, are you Greek?" No sir, I am an American and you can't trick me into bending over to retrieve my keys until you are at a safe distance from me...thank you.
I grew up in an Italian neighborhood and not once did I ever hear, "Are you Italian?" I don't get it.

Don't you just love those morons that take their bicycles on the subway during rush hour? It's a Bicycle fuckwad! Ride It!!!!

More later...

McIDIOTS

2007-05-25T10:41:00.000-04:00

NEWS FLASH: McDonald's hires incompetent workers!

So I order my large iced coffee, cream and no sugar as usual.
I watch the manager fill my cup and then squirt something in it from a large bottle.
I insert my straw, suck a sip and guess what? The sip so sweetly sucked. "Excuse me but I said no sugar" She says "That's right no sugar" I say "well there is sugar in mine", to which her head shaking, attitude posing, dumbass mouth say's, "well I don't know hows it got there"

Another worker (of lesser stature) told me it is not sugar, it is natural cane syrup. She said they always put it in the plain unflavored coffee even if the coffee is ordered without sugar because it is natural. DUH!!!!

BTW..This MickeyD's is at Union Square and is the only one that I have frequented that has this policy.

CAIN'S SQUEEZE

2007-05-25T10:03:00.000-04:00

WHO IS SHE?

There is a scene in "Inherit the Wind" that brings mention to a chapter in Genesis where it is said "Cain went off to the Land of Nod on the east of eden, and Cain knew his wife"

Was she his sister? Where did she come from? Who was she?

INSULT OF THE MONTH

2006-12-17T10:47:00.000-05:00

Well here is one that I've never heard before

The Location: McDonalds, Eighth Avenue

The Situation: Bum giving the McClerk a hard time. She tells him to leave.

The bum's response: "Go sit on a dildo with Ben-Gay on it!"

ROCK n ROLL ANIMAL

2006-09-17T16:40:00.000-04:00

BITS 'O' OBITS

2006-06-24T11:19:00.000-04:00

STINKY

(AKA, Stinkyboy, Stink, Stinkybones, Stinkatelli, etc)
My Beloved Himalayan/Persian
Sept 9, 1996 - June 14, 2006

I HATE SUMMER Part Deux

2006-06-24T11:02:00.000-04:00

Anyone that say's they enjoy humidity is crazy. I haven't written anything since January after losing all my fingers (except my left pinky) in a yachting accident in Ibiza.

They have all grown back now, so I figured I'd bitch about NY summer heat again. Only problem is that the middle finger on my right hand grew back in reverse, so when I'm walking the streets and all sweaty and flip a cab driver the bird...I't looks like I'm giving myself the finger! FUCK ME!!

That's all for now.

Navigating around WoodstockGEN Tips

2006-01-31T23:59:00.000-05:00

Simple ITALIAN SAUSAGE W/PEPPER & ONIONS for non cooks added 11-26-05.

10-01-05 NEW RESTAURANT REVIEW ADDED (Yum Yum Thai)

MOST OVERLOOKED (but very cool) FEATURE > SEARCH
The upper left corner of the main page is a SEARCH box. To find ANY previous posts by a WORD, or PHRASE, type it in, click "SEARCH" and wham! Try it! Type Besame Mucho and search...

NEW section "MY NY KITCHEN"
On the right side, right above "Links" is a new feature simply called "MENU" (original, huh?)
Clicking on "MY NY KITCHEN" will take you to a new page called WoodstockGEN Food. To return to the Main posts, go to Menu and click "Return to Main..." I decided to separate the recipes from the other posts. Besides I didn't want the normal posts smelling like garlic so they now have their own home.

For some reason the profile and links section doesn't load on the top right of the page with INERNET EXPLORER, but instead goes to the bottom. I suggest Firefox which is quickly becoming the Browser of choice by many!

About "ARCHIVES"

The monthly "Archives" that are right under my LINKS are all the other posts. Some were looking for a particular post and thought I deleted it, or they were going crazy. They are still all there. Blogger automatically archives every month.

STRIKE? YOU'RE OUT!

2006-01-25T10:27:00.000-05:00

Don't ya just love it? This ingrate subway worker's pic was snapped by a rider and appeared in yesterdays NY Post.

They kept us in a state of total fuckedupness for three days because they want more money and benefits for their stressful jobs.

Here's what the Post said:
"After enduring a three-day strike and the union's rejection last Friday of a generous contract, subway riders shown the picture of the worker's Sunday siesta at 1:13 p.m. at the downtown 28th Street station on the No. 6 line said it's time Toussaint and company wake up and face the music."

"That's typical of them," said William Bookin, 40, a doorman who lives on the Lower East Side. "They don't want to be bothered. If you ask them for help, and if they are awake, they're rude to you."

2006-01-04T11:23:00.000-05:00

STILL NOTHING NEW HERE!

Happy New Year 2006

2005-12-24T01:06:00.000-05:00

Click Play on New Yrs Eve ONLY

EDUCATION PART OF THE SHOW

2005-12-24T00:42:00.000-05:00

CLICK FOR INTERNET INSTRUCTIONS

STRIKE OVER!

2005-12-22T22:51:00.000-05:00

WHAT A PAIN IN THE ASS THAT WAS!!!!

The strike is over and the subways and busses will be running tomorrow hopefully in time for the morning commute. I was lucky and had a friend to stay with in Manhattan and not have to walk or take a price gouging cab from Queens, not to mention the hours waiting to cross the bridge.

People in other cities, where your car is so important should only think about how it feels when your car dies and you are stranded with no way to get to work or even the store to get a quart of milk! Helpless feeling huh? I experienced that when I lived alone in Atlanta. It sucks!

On a positive note, I did get a lot of walking done where under normal circumstances I would have hopped a subway.

Tonight I walked through Bryant Park at 42nd St and 5th Avenue while debating if I should take a cab or spend one more night on my friends sofa. The park was Beautiful! They have installed a huge ice skating rink (bigger than Rockefeller Center) and had booths set up with crafts for Christmas shoppers. Christmas lights were everywhere and the winter people (my people) were skating with glee in their eyes, enjoying the very cold weather while skate dancing to the music.

To me this is Christmas....decorations and cold weather. I'm a winter person. Ask me a question in the middle of the dog days of August and you might get punched. I remember one Christmas I spent in St Petersburg, FL. I was sitting there on a chair outside my motel. It was 90 degrees and the palm trees were decorated with lights and ornaments. It was very odd.

Anyway, enough of my gabbing and I wish everyone a (strike free) Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

TRANSIT STRIKE! OUCH....

2005-12-20T10:16:00.000-05:00

Well, for the second time in twenty five years the good old MTA (NY Subways/Busses) is on strike. If I attempt to go to work tonight, I will have to walk miles, and I have a painful toe!

THIS REALLY SUCKS!!

IT'S B A C K !!!

2005-12-12T23:19:00.000-05:00

THE RETURN OF "The CUBE"

In June, I posted an article on the missing "CUBE" at Astor Place. You can read or re-read about it here: THE CUBE (click)

Well Whaddya Know Pancho?? IT's BACK and Beautiful as ever.

My anxiety attacks should now settle down and bring me back to my normal neurotic self!!

MORE "CUBE"

2005-12-12T23:18:00.000-05:00

WHY WE LIVE IN NYC!

2005-12-01T00:08:00.000-05:00

New York is a city of convenience.
Whatever you want or need, it is usually within walking distance, or a snap to get to via public transportation.
Nowadays, all across the country you can get your fried chicken and crappy tacos at the same fast food joint. You can now buy your donuts and get one of your favorite 31 flavored ice creams at the same time. You get the point....convenience.

Well in New York it goes a few steps better. For example look at this shop and consider the possibilities.

You are running late for work but need to stop for the Wall Street Journal. You go in and have no cash on you. No problem, theres an ATM. You get your paper, a cigar for after lunch and a Diet Snapple. Just as you're paying the cashier you glance at your watch and see that you have a few extra minutes. What better time to get your nipple pierced, and that skull and crossbones nipple ring you've always wanted. Now THAT is convenience you will not find anywhere else. What a town!

SIGN UP TODAY

2005-12-01T00:05:00.000-05:00

Differences in culture

2005-11-30T23:50:00.000-05:00

Ok....For the many that laughed at me and didn't believe me, here is proof!
As you know (if your read this blog) I frequent asian restaurants and have been to different asian areas across the country. In many of the asian countries such as Viet Nam for one, when a worker goes out on a small break or a smoke break they squat. We Americans stand around and bullshit, lean on something or find something usually hard to sit on for our five minute smoke break.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with this practice. I just find the way other cultures do basic things interesting. I have also collected what people from other countries say when they are in the bathroom and someone opens or tries to open the door, but that will be in another post.

I have mentioned this to people (about squatting) and they always say "No Victor, I have never seen that in my life"
Well, being the one that is assigned by the Lord to do the noticing for the average oblivious mortal, it is my duty to provide validity to my observations. The pic is an asian kitchen worker on a short smoke break in their comfortable "Squatting" position.

New "AlternativeYule Log"

2005-11-28T11:38:00.000-05:00

EXCLUSIVE:

The new cable all Gay Network will be showing this on xmas day instead of the traditional "yule log" and only will play Christmas songs by Liza, Barbara and Judy with one Edith Piaf song per hour. It might not be xmas related but who the hell understands french anyway?

Overheard in Macy's Window

2005-11-28T11:30:00.000-05:00

"No I won't sit on your filthy old lap and if you don't get my me my
X Box 360, I'll tell Mr Macy what you whispered to me you creep, then it's back to Bellevue for you, you hear me?

Smart Advertising

2005-11-28T11:21:00.000-05:00

I promised more pictures of sights and sounds of New York, so how's this one for starters?
Found this gem while walking down Eighth Ave around thirty something street.

Advice for Tourists (besides, Go Home!)

2005-11-28T11:04:00.000-05:00

Pigeons, better known as "Rats with wings" are not cute. Do not feed them. There is enough crap left around by litterers to keep them happy into the next epoch! Besides, if NY ever gets "Bird Flu", who do you think will be the carriers?

Tis the Season

2005-11-26T09:55:00.000-05:00

Ok, I have been slack lately with my blog and unfortunately have missed many interesting pics because I was too lazy to haul around my camera. I promise I will keep it with me as this is the time of year where not only the shoppers are out but also every whackjob in Manhattan also.

For instance the other night I passed by an 8 foot tall black man dressed as the statue of liberty standing on a pedestal at grand central, and a naked woman covered from head to toe in shaving cream casually walking down 14th Street....damn!

Mangia!!

2005-11-24T08:57:00.000-05:00

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

My Aim Is True

2005-11-16T00:11:00.000-05:00

I'm working at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre this week where the Odd Couple is playing.
I don't usually care much when I see a star but tonight I met one of my favorite songwriting artists of all time...Elvis Costello. He passed me on the way to the mens room line and I said "Mister Costello, it's a pleasure". He walked over, shook my hand and said "hello, nice to meet you"

For me, as jaded as can be, this was a thrill!

the end

More Real Theatre on Broadway??

2005-11-06T23:22:00.000-05:00

SOUVENIR
Lyceum Theatre
W. 45th Street (btwn 6th & 7th)
New York, NY
In Previews. Opens Nov 10, 2005

I can't believe that I have found another gem. Three so far in the last few months and of all places...On Broadway!

SOUVENIR is a play/musical based on a NY socialite in the 1930's named Florence Foster Jenkins who thought she was a soprano supreme but actually sounded like a cat caught in a weed thrasher.

She and her accompanist Cosme McMoon, actually performed at some of New Yorks classiest venues (Carnegie Hall, Town Hall) and though the packed rooms laughed hysterically, she thought they were applauding.
The play focuses on the many year working relationship between the two main characters.

Judy Kaye and Donald Corren star in this wonderfully directed evening of theatre.

I can't think of adjectives to use to describe this play that will reflect my actual personal vocabulary without sounding gay, but I WILL repeat one word that I hear after every performance is over......"DELIGHTFUL"

See what I mean?
Those that know me would probably laugh if I ever said something like, "delightful!" or "fabulous!" and if I ever heard myself saying that, I would probably quit the theatre, leave NY and become a long haul trucker based out of Alabama.

I am starting a new career. I created a new title for myself called "Pre-Review Consultant"
I will go to previews and tell the producers my prediction of what the NY Critics will say in the newspapers when they review it. If I predict a "Pan" they have time to make it better..hah! This probably won't fly but it's a fun idea anyway!

Here we go. My Predictions for Nov 11th, 2005:
One paper will love it. The other two will give it mixed reviews. IT WILL RUN!
For non theatre people that don't understand the term "mixed review" it's like this.
You're a guy and you have a date with a rich beautiful supermodel. Only problem is that she developed a bad zit on the tip of her nose. Would you break the date? Refrain from sex? Of course not!!
That's a mixed review. An almost perfect date with a pimple.

See you later...I'm remodeling my bathroom and am told it will look "fabulous", but remember.....I didn't say that!

IDIOT ON THE "N" (or) WORST SUBWAY PERFORMER!

2005-11-06T23:01:00.000-05:00

Same Song, Next Year

Am I the only one who notices these things, or am I just a neurotic that lets these things get to me??

There is a (so called) subway performer that I always see on the "N" train. I'd say that I see him on an average of twice a week, for a little more than a year. He is a youngish black man with dreadlocks and a guitar. He doesn't look like a nut or a homeless (aka Bum) person...but...the trouble is, he only plays (or knows) ONE SONG! It's a Bob Marley reggae song, and as much as I like Bob Marley.....It is driving me nuts!! Same Song.....same song, same song....every time...same song, gets on the train and goes into his "......everythings gonna be alright...." Well if I have to listen to it any longer I can tell you it "Ain't gonna be alright!"
Another thing that is interesting about this "one hit blunder" is that besides the guitar he is playing, he always has another guitar in a carry case strapped to his back like a backpack. A spare guitar....for what????

I have made a few comments to other nearby passengers but then they only look at me like I AM THE WEIRD ONE! Fuck em!

I have on several occasions been perilously close to asking him if he knows any other songs but then start to think that if he is a sicko...this might put him over the edge and I'd find myself being bludgeoned by two cheap guitars, so I clam up.

Has anyone else seen him?

SWEENEY IS SWEET.......TOLD YA!!!!!!

2005-11-05T10:14:00.000-05:00

In my previous post on "Sweeney Todd" (the Musical) I predicted two of the NY newspapers would give it rave reviews and one would offer a good but somewhat mixed review.

I WAS RIGHT!!

CLICK ON PAPERS TO READ REVIEWS:

NY Times (Rave)

NY Post (Mixed)

NY Daily News (Rave)

The KID (aka.. My Son)

2005-11-03T23:40:00.000-05:00

Slob or Anal Retentive Personality? ADDENDUM

2005-10-29T23:50:00.000-04:00

I'm sure everyone is familiar with the Neil Simon play, the movie or the sitcom on TV, "The ODD COUPLE"

Of the two of them, Oscar (the slob) and Felix (the neat freak).....which one is the least happiest?
Which one could really benefit from a good shrink the most?

Answer is easy: FELIX!!!! Oscar is content and happy. Slobs are happy and anal neat freaks are always upset about something.....

The END

The ULTIMATE NY STREET PEOPLE

2005-10-28T10:53:00.000-04:00

NYPD "Uncovered"

Don't like cops? Why? because you got caught, that's why!!!! Whether it was for a real crime or most likely a traffic ticket that you tried to bullshit your way out of.. ("sorry officer but I have diarrhea and I'm about to shit my pants and that's why I was speeding")

I've discovered something interesting. It was right in front of my nose but hidden for my entire adult life. My discovery is that: NYPD cops are THE TRUE STREET PEOPLE, the streetiest street people you will ever find.
Think about it....
Where are they.. the Streets. They are in the midst of the common man, the criminals and the good citizens of this fine city. They see it and live it all....every day. They can offer more streetwise rhyming stories than ANY South Queens rapper can, more dirty syringe stories than all the drug dealers in the Bronx etc. The problem is that it's almost impossible to ever see this side of them in their working environment. At work, it's all business "Miss, Sir, Please, Vehicle, Watch your head, etc"
Then when they are not at work it is still almost impossible to get to know them because they only hang out with other cops and cop couples. They find it hard to get close to non cops for some reason, possibly due to Academy brainwashing I suppose.

I have become friendly with many young retired NY cops that now do security work while they collect their 50% salary pension and benefits after twenty years on the streets. These guys are like 39 years old and retired and lemme tell you..I am Jealous!

Anyway, talking to these guys bring me back to my roots because its like the guys I grew up with in the old days when NY had NY'ers living here instead of the Wisconsin yuppies living in expensive apartments with their daddies money.

These guys have the funniest personalities and the best stories. They have drinking stories and women stories. It's like listening to a country and western song! I admit a lot of them are a bit crude, but then I guess I must the same way because I can talk and laugh with them for hours. One guy I talk to brings to mind the comic Andrew Dice Clay. We'll be standing in front of a theatre having a smoke and not talking. All of a sudden out of the blue he will start this hysterical conversation with a line like "So the other night, I'm banging this broad......." (Guys will laugh, women will not!)

Whether you think this is funny or not, you gotta respect the job they do because you know you don't want to do it!

BTW...The new "low" salary offered to new recruits in the NYPD is a shitty 25 thousand a year. Unbelievable.

THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET IS BACK

2005-10-26T00:09:00.000-04:00

SWEENEY TODD
Eugene O'Neill Theatre
W. 49th Street
New York, NY

Oh how I love writing theatre reviews....Now if I only knew how!!

“Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd
His skin was pale and his eye was odd
He shaved the faces of gentlemen
Who never thereafter were heard of again
He trod a path that few have trod
Did Sweeney Todd
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

The musical masterpiece by Steven Sondheim (Music & Lyrics) is back again and in time for Halloween. What more could I ask for, for a Halloween treat than to see my favorite reincarnated redhead back from the dead... actress Shirley Maclaine attending Monday nights performance. Beau Bridges was also there, and his face always scares the crap out of me too, don't know why though.

OK Back to the show...

For those that haven't a clue what Sweeney Todd is all about AND why I threw in a Halloween reference...here is a basic synopsis:

Sweeney Todd, aka Benjamin Barker escapes 15 years later from a prison where he was serving a trumped up life sentence by an evil judge that wanted to bang his wife.
He winds up back in his old hood, Fleet Street where he is hell bent on killing the judge (or at least really fuck him up) that sent him away.
He meets Ms Lovett, a widowed meat pie maker/vendor who proclaims that her pies are the worst in all of London and they will even make you sick. She recognizes him and offers him the spare room in her place to set up shop and be a barber again.
Someone finds out who he is and tries to blackmail him so Sweeney slits his throat and to get rid of the body, Ms Lovett uses it for her meat pies.
Then there is the boy he met on a ship that falls for Sweeney's young daughter Johanna who is the ward of the evil judge. Many people (including the judge) meet their fate by the sharp razors of the barber Todd.
Whew....you get it so far?

Anyway....the original was an elaborate set with full orchestra, costumes etc. A wonderful production and was on PBS, so I think you can even buy the video if you look around.

This new incarnation (Not Shirley!) is a work of genius. Genius begets genius.
Sondheim keeps at you with one beautiful and/or clever tune after tune. You keep saying to yourself "ok, the first song that sucks..I'm getting up to go to the bathroom".. but an hour and twenty minutes later you are still in your seat, although a damp seat perhaps.
The set is very simple and stationary consisting of a tall set of shelves upstage, a black casket (used for many purposes) and of course chairs. What makes this production so very unique is that there is no orchestra and the entire cast all play instruments in between and during their acting and singing. I've never seen anything like this before..It is amazing to see and hear, and a beautiful piece of creative staging in the way that it works. If you are a fan of Patti LuPone you'll love watching her play a tuba while shaking her ample ass at the audience.

The show is still in previews and opens November 3rd
So.......here is my prediction for the reviews that will appear on Nov. 4th.

Two of the three NYC newspapers will give it rave reviews and one will offer a mixed review.

If you wanna see if I'm right then on the day after it opens...go to www.nydailynews.com, www.nytimes.com and www.nypost.com and read them for yourself!

BTW..I'm usually right!

Slob or Anal Retentive Personality?

2005-10-23T23:48:00.000-04:00

SLOB vs NEAT-FREAK

I am a slob. I am hygienically clean, it's just that my order, as far as my possessions and surroundings are concerned have always been a little..well, scattered and with this I am comfortable.
When I have a pile of papers and mail spread out across my table in seemingly no apparent order....I know where everything is. Do I know where my phone bill is? That's easy...it's in the pile near the bottom. Water bill? Third open envelope from the top. To a neatnick, it drives them crazy and they cannot in their life understand how I can mange my life this way. I Can. It works. Stay out of my disorganized life and I will let you label the place in your cabinets where your toothpicks belong...ok?

Anal Personalities (neat freaks) need help, not us slobs. We (slobs) don't walk into an organized home or apartment and freak out. We don't even notice that the furniture and pictures on the wall have been leveled with a T-Square. We are happy people. Now the Neaties on the other hand will walk into the home of a seemingly disorganized "slob" and get that "Ugh" look immediately and have the obsessive compulsive desire to start straightening out things.

This post brings me to a familiar topic in my mind but came to print today because yesterday I had to fill in for someone at a job site. We have consoles, locked and pretty much all the same from site to site. It's not necessary to say what's in them...let's just say "Stuff." OK you with me so far? Good.

I was bowled over when I opened this guy’s console. EVERYTHING was labeled. I mean everything! Things were stacked, arranged, sorted and left in "do not touch" museum exhibit style. He obviously created labels on special weight paper at home on his computer and took the time to measure the widths of these home made labels and cut them to fit..precisely.
What really got me was this.....we have one little flathead screwdriver in each console, which we need to set a little switch on a device. This dude had printed up a small picture, actually an outline of a screwdriver and Then Labeled it "Screwdriver"!

Fellow Slobs will know what I’m talking about and people like the above example will say things like “Aw isn’t that terrific” or “So what’s wrong with being organized?”
My Answer is: NOTHING AT ALL.. Just don’t try to shove it in my face.

Here is something about these neat fanatico’s that I have noticed. They always lose things. They put everything in sight away in draws or closets or whatever and never know where things are. You chide them about that and they say, “I know where it is, and I didn’t throw it out. I just can’t find it.”

Am I right or what?

More info for ENABLERS

2005-10-09T23:47:00.000-04:00

The Homeless Person.

I know I have talked about BUMS (a/k/a "Homeless People") before. I receive emails from "ENABLERS" telling me that I am insensitive or that these Bums are mentally ill and misfortunate and I should not pick on them. I go into detail to relate what I SEE and only hope it will help a bum get a job and perhaps keep that hard earned dollar in your pocket where it belongs.

What the ENABLER sees: A bum asks for a handout whether it be money or a cigarette. The ENABLER of course has a compulsion to oblige (ENABLING is a disease) Then they see a grateful bum thanking them profusely. It makes the ENABLER smile thinking they did a good thing. What would happen if said ENABLER refused politely. What they would more than likely see is the BUMS true personality shining through.

Case in Point: (Rod Serling would say "submitted for your approval"

Saturday Evening - New York City
I'm standing in front of a restaurant smoking a cigarette. A bum (HP...Homeless Person) comes over to me.
"Can you spare an extra cigarette" he says. I reply with "No I'm sorry, I can't"
OK so that was easy wasn't it? This poor soul should be kept or taken care of by us more fortunate than him....He needs the ENABLERS to support his nicotine habit. We must wake in the rain and trudge to work because we have a duty to help Gods fallen such as he....After all...There but for the grace of God go us...right? .....BULLSHIT!

Anyway...... this is how he responded to my polite but firm denial of his request. Remember now...I politely said NO to him.
BUM: THAT'S IT!..... SON OF A BITCH!...WON'T HELP ANYBODY. MOTHERFUCKER!!
Did I deserve this slam? Would you deserve it?

He was not a very nice person. Now the emails will come.....It's my fault that he is bitter..etc...
BUT .. ENABLERS are exactly like Alcoholics..Alcoholics will not stop just because you prove to them how alcohol will kill their liver and ruin their lives. They stop when they are ready OR if there is no alcohol available....

This story will be met with denial from true ENABLERS. I only hope it will enlighten others and make others "Notice" these occurences so they can get their own Blog someday.

I would love to dress down one day and beg for money on the streets. When someone throws a bill in my cup I will say "Thank you, stupid fucking ENABLER. It's because of YOU that I can't quit my begging addiction"
I wonder how that would go over? Hmm I have to try it someday....Might even videotape it. Do you think anyone would ask for their money back?

"The Kid" Writes

2005-10-06T14:52:00.000-04:00

MY SON just turned 21 and is in his third year of college. I wouldn't be a proud father if I didn't carry photos of him to show everyone. or make you sit in front of my tv set for hours watching home videos of him growing up...now would I?

Sooooo that said..Here is one of his ramblings. Like father like son.

"You're So Windy"

Oh, you're a worry wart just
beckoning the tide and,
asking for the time and,
break-ing ev-ery hymen,
livin' in your prime and,
skippin' stones off sand with
rocks off rotten roads you,
live on in your own home,

when the ocean dries up,
drowning in its own guts,
drinks itself to death and,
tries to throw up the words,
while sippin' on, its salty murk.
off the hollow ground, when,
hydrogen atoms..come to-get-her,
love is in the weather,
but back to how the sea involves,
the worried one inside you,
hammering the dulcimer
with bones that tune the tones...

And though its indefinite, infinite, vast and relevant,
im always in a state. stepping on the rakes,
sold my soul for good nah sake, and when it all comes down to it
through and through and by and by, the whims of all my wind that
i push from out my grin is simple now and simple then, about a love
thats on a rug

you're so windy, blowing off the wall, ill have to pin you up - and
let it be known that theres a science to love on wood paneling-.
you're so windy, the Clearest breeze to ever push the leaves. it all
took shape, and laced my love, a wound that's mending, i love you
though you're so windy.

and now here's Wally with Sports

2005-10-03T14:04:00.002-04:00

YANKEES and BOSTON

For most American males (the gals too) the above words actually mean something. I am the oddball of the group. I don't get it. I wish I was normal. I wish I liked sports or at least knew enough of it to be able to bullshit my way out of embarrassing situations. I'm tired of being "cornered" when asked a question about baseball or football, and it always happens where ever I go.
I don't know why I never got into sports or understood the fascination of competition. I understand the absolute "power rush" of adrenaline when your team wins, but the down side is too much for me. You're up up up yelling your damn head off, excited and chugging a pre-celebratory beer and then they lose! I go through enough periods of depression in day to day life as it is without taking on any other manic depressive mind fucks of this nature thank you.
Yesterday, I'm standing in a theatre lobby drinking a bottle of water. Why me, I don't know but a burly guy with a crew cut came over to me and said "do you know anything about the Yankees?" I had to just half smile and say "nope, sorry".
There were countless time in a cab at an airport somewhere, the cabbie would turn to me and say something like "who are you rooting for Sunday?" or "You a Bears fan?" Then there are those that when they hear I'm from New York they will always say "NY huh? so what are you, a Yankee or Mets fan?" Sports Fans just assume that I have to automatically be one or the other.
These questions are embarrassing for me because I don't know what to say and feel like an unamerican commie weirdo or something like that. Then there are the types that love sports talk and since I'm the only one there will insist of talking sports with me and asking questions until my head hurts from the constant nodding. "How'd you like that play So_and_So did in the 8th?. Was that fucking unbelieveable or what?"

Please don't push me.....OK you pushed me so now let me bend your fucking ear with what "I SEE" pal!!
As a young boy in grade school with Dominican Nuns I had a few facial tics. Nervous and annoying twitches that drove me crazy but finally went away when puberty came around.
Baseball is hard for me to watch because of what I SEE going on with that damn pitcher on his ant mound.

Ok tap the shit from your cleats...do a good job now. Ok now the other foot. wipe your hands on your legs now. Good. Now face the batter and make faces with your eyes. Quick..shake your head and jerk your neck a few times, good. Now touch the brim of your hat. Jerk your neck again. Now touch the brim again. Twitch your eyes and touch the brim at the same time. Now scratch your self..yes, your balls too.Yes, simon said so. Ok now take your glove off and hold it between your legs and rub your left eye, now your right eye. Ok put the glove back on. Take you hat off and immediately put it back on. Happy now..No? Oh yes you aren't finished touching your head because your OCD insists that you must do it 17 times while spitting every third time. OK GOOD JOB...Now you can finally throw the ball at the guy sleeping at bat.

For a non football person this is what I see:
Unlike basketball where the action is mostly non stop, football is like being stuck in the worst parking lot traffic jam on your way home from work where a 15 minute drive will take you 2 hours.
Throw ball, catch ball, run a few feet then Umph..tackle..wait..start again.wait..REPEAT.

Way too much ass grabbing, patting and rubbing for me to watch. THEN once in a while there is what they call a touchdown. Ahh now this is exciting watching a big strong macho athlete stop on the other side of the goal post and do the silliest, sissy nah nah puke provoking dance i've ever seen. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ALL ABOUT?? Dance, shout, flail your arms, jump up and down, maybe yell "hell yes!" but WHY this stupid pussy boy dance?
So..what I see is....mens hands all over each others asses and sissy pussy boy dancing. What am I to think?

and now here's Roy with the weather......GO YANKEES!

RESTAURANT REVIEW & UFO SIGHTING

2005-10-01T07:27:00.000-04:00

COMBO REPORT! RESTAURANT REVIEW and UFO SIGHTING

YUM YUM THAI
650 9th Avenue
btwn 45th & 46th Streets

Finally I found a good one!
Searching for a place to dine along that strip of Hells Kitchen's, 9th Avenue in the 40's and low 50's can be a hunt and peck process.
Restaurants of every type cuisine, as diverse as the city itself, are lined up side by side and on both sides of the Avenue.
Lunch and dinner seekers are seen huddling in front of these establishments either reading the window menu or the "specials" on the sandwich board by the door. Of course some are just loitering or smoking cigs in front of the bar (aka "Bloombergs Lounge") So how can you weed out the"Finds" from the creme de le crappe?

Read Zagat reviews, ask a friend with good taste or watch for a once in a blue moon review on WoodstockGEN. This usually happens when I have nothing else to say, am strapped for ideas or in the middle of my never ending mid life crisis.

So....hmmm...(tapping fingers)...Oh yeah...Yum Yum Thai! This little place gets four smiles out of five. The food was very tasty and fragrant (a must for Thai) and very reasonable priced. I only had the Basil Chicken (Kra Prow) which is a spicy dish with a sauce made from Thai basil, sauteed onions, bell peppers, chili peppers and fish sauce. I also had a side order of fried spring rolls.

This is what I always get and usually can accurately judge the rest of the entrees by this one since along with Pad Thai (noodle dish), this is a standard or signature item on a Thai menu. My only complaints were that even though I ordered it (Thai Hot), which in the Thai tongue means "Burn me a new one" it was very mild and I had them bring the little Thai condiment tray with several different hot peppers and sauces.
The other was, the (3) fried spring rolls. They were very good but the tiniest (and cutest) springrolls I have ever seen.

Added Bonus:
I had a great little table next to the window. People watching while I eat is one of my favorite things in the world. You never know who may walk by. Last night I saw Wayne Knight (Newman on Seinfeld) walking by. He's replacing Rob Bartlett in Sweet Charity in the role of Herman and he was on his way to the theatre, since it was one block away.
An Indian couple sitting next to me saw me looking out the window at him and the man pointed and said to me, "Bibbidy bobbidy punjabi himidi Postman? Doobidi dobidi pibidi Seinfeld?
I said "Yes"

LISTEN TO MOM

2005-09-26T01:18:00.000-04:00

ABOUT "NEVER TALKING TO STRANGERS"

Ok, I'll admit it. You do meet lots of weirdos in NYC... (BUT)....they are all from somewhere else....like middle America..the Heartland. This is what took place his morning on a NYC bus bound for LaGuardia Airport. I'm using a "Play/Script" type of format to make it easier to follow and to make it feel like "you were there !" (Oh, the things I do to amuse myself....)

Cast of Characters:

GUY ON BUS: 40 something, white male from Madison, Wisconsin. His
tee shirt was dirty and and very wrinkled along with the
same style jeans. He had longish oily hair, glasses and
had his carry on suitcase on his lap.

ME: Oh you know....same old blogger/bullshitter..etc

ACT I, SCENE I

INT. Bus to LaGuardia - Morning

HIM

I can't believe some people are afraid
to fly. I mean it's safer than a car.
It's even safer than walking around
some of the streets here.

Well, you know it really isn't the fear
of death or a crash for a lot of them.
I have a friend that has this
irrational phobia and has even joined
support groups that offer classes on
overcoming these fears. For her, it
was...the "whole experience". It's the
way the plane feels, smells, the
cramped feeling and of course all the
different sounds and creaks associated
with aircraft and flight.

HIM

Oh yeah? Uh huh, I didn't know that.

They themselves know that it is
irrational and silly but the fear is
greater than their intelligence.

I mentioned a stupid phobia I used to have where I was
afraid to get my mail. it would build up for weeks and
sometimes even months until the mail carrier had it all
sent back..."Return to Sender"

HIM

(catching me offguard he asks me) "Is a
pipe bomb just a metal tube with
gunpowder in it?"

What? I don't know.

HIM

"How do they make pipe bombs?"

SICK OF SLIWA ALREADY!!!

2005-09-21T18:01:00.000-04:00

JOHN GOTTI JR BEATS ALL RAPS

If there is anyone that's been following the Jr case or has been unfortunate to have to listen to Curtis Sliwa these last few years, you already know what a publicity seeker Curtis is.
He claims that it was Gotti Jr that ordered his botched "hit" some 13 years ago. Now he is all over himself again telling all the papers and world reporters that he is "a dead man walking", that the family will be celebrating over his eventual passing. He goes on to say: "if they can somehow report that Curtis Sliwa is 6 feet under, they know that will make their boss very happy. . . . I fear for my safety every day. . . ."

This is what I say to Curtis: Mr Publicity Monger Red Beret wearing Sliwa. Go back to your morning radio show and voiciferate there where it belongs, and stay out of my NY Daily News and my NY Post. I'm sick of seeing your face and as much good you may have done in the 70's, (Curtis is the founder of The Guardian Angels) we thank you but your services are no longer needed.

I'm not insensitive to a person if he really believes he is on a "hit list" at all. I can't imagine the hell Mr Sliwa went through when he was shot, thrown from a car and left for dead...BUT...Anyone with half a brain, including Curtis Sliwa can figure out that NOTHING is going to happen to him now. If he so much as gets a cold, Jr Gotti will be suspected and I don't think he wants to do another stint in prison, especially a lifetime. If anything, Gotti might even hire secret round the clock protection for Sliwa to make sure he doesn't slip on the ice one frozen NY morning and crack his skull. Jr Gotti does not want to see Sliwa go suddenly AWOL!

Sliwa knows this and probably feels very secure on the inside. The paranoiac quotes in the presses are for his own ego and monetary gain.

Aging: Not for Pussy's

2005-09-21T07:32:00.000-04:00

The worst thing about getting old is GETTING OLD
I stole that quote from a movie. I don't remember which movie or who said it because...I'm getting old.

I want to wish my dear old friend Susan Johnson a speedy, get the hell out of the hospital fast recovery. If anyone read my post about my '69 Woodstock Festival adventure, she and her brother (now deceased) were my camp buddies way back in the days when cow pastures weren't a safe place to be...even for cows. At night you always feared running into a tripped out Psilocybin mushroom hunter,, armed with a burlap sack, flashlight and 10,000 hallucinations hovering atop his head. I got off the subject again didn't I?...hmm..I have to cut back on my 'shroom omelets for breakfast.

Susan wound up in the hospital last Thursday after feeling numbness in her legs and unable to walk. So far, all she managed to extract from the doctors techno-medi-sleep deprived-clueless jargon is that she has a blockage of the spine...fluid. They may have to perform surgery but it's anyones guess especially if the proposed schedule interferes with their golf vacations.
I visited her late yesterday. Because of all the needle poking they have done to her, the purple bruises on her body made it difficult to not think of Welch's Grape Juice.

Susan is a great cook....probably better than me. . .maybe....So to see her eating that industrial hospital lasagne and alien flavored carrots was enough to break my heart. Forget the hospital bill...It's the food that is the real crime here!

So remember....don't get old. But if you Must, then do it with dignity. Die at home or in the street. Give the hospitals a few days of your time and then escape. Go Home. You will be more comfortable..you won't catch pneumonia or develop bed sores. Not much of a choice when you think of it...your own bed, or the sick person next to you coughing up her strawberry jello..pick one.

Illiterate Littering

2005-09-19T09:55:00.000-04:00

DO NOT LITER

Makes sense doesn't it? It's a simple rule but simple rules are designed to be broken by simple people. Especially those with a chip on their shoulders or the ones that feel they are "owed" something for "nothing"

If I even have a small tissue or a piece of cellophane while on a train I will hold it or stuff it in my pocket till I deboard and find one of millions of garbage cans on the streets of NY.

I see litterers every day and being me I notice similarities among them. A lot of them are teenage high school kids on the train after school with their mickey d's or burger king meals. Finished sucking up every last drop of soda? Throw it under your seat. After all, it's empty isn't it? The bags and smelly ketchup soaked wrappers? Yes, by all means toss them under the seat, or better still..leave them where you were just sitting because there must be someone that will have the job of cleaning up after you. Believe it or not I notice (and I notice many things) that women/girls are the guiltiest of the lot. Walking down the street behind a sister with an attitude and a stick of gum...the wrapper is tossed to the ground with no feelings of guilt as though it is her right. Almost like a horrible booger on your finger..it needs to "go away" fast...flick it.

One example of 'attitude' I encountered a while back:
Me....sitting reading my paper
Her..boards train, asks her friend for a tissue. She wipes seat, sits down AND casually tosses the white paper tissue to the middle of the trains dark colored floor and proceeds to start yakking to her friend. This was her normal behavior. I observed her..her eyes..her body language. I'm looking at this discarded tissue on the clean floor, sticking out like a sore thumb until the whistle on my teakettle hat blew.
"ARE YOU JUST GONNA LEAVE THAT THERE?" pointing to her trash.

Now here is what I mean by attitude. She looks at the tissue, looks at me and then elegantly responds with
"DO I LOOK LIKE A JANITOR TO YOU?"
I say "THAT'S LITTERING" and she says "I KNOW WHAT THAT IS". I tell her she could hold it until she finds a trash can when she gets off. Guess what? She starts talking to her friend about what an asshole "I AM!"
Hah! Meanwhile everyone is now staring at her..the tissue..her..me..the tissue..etc.

I got off at 49th Street and wondered where she lived..I wondered how the streets and hallways in her neighborhood looked? I wanted to say more to her but then I figured that if I did, it would only take another thirty seconds before she turns it into a "race" thing. Yes baby that's it..you got me! Uh huh..right..yep..
Black or White, lady...you are still a fucking PIG!

Take a Walk on the Wild Side

2005-09-17T09:30:00.000-04:00

New York has a upper West Side. It has a lower East Side. An upper East Side and a Riverside.
BUT...
Where exactly is its "Wild Side?" That's easy. We see it every day. We may even instigate the Wild Side on a daily basis unknowingly. When we do...we are assholes and should be forced to eat McDonald's every day of the week while locked in a room with C-SPAN.

The "Wild Side" is also known by many intelligent countries as "The Wrong Side."
In America we drive and walk (or should) on the "Right Side" This simple unwritten rule could make lifes little things much more pleasant, such as subways (my favorite topic these days) for one.

The concept is such a simple system designed to speed up your commute and make you smile. The joy it can provoke can only be compared to the way we feel at 5PM on a Thursday afternoon of a long Holiday weekend.

New York City doesn't get it! Never will. Especially when most of us are followers, and do what the rushing commuter in front of us do, even if it's self immolation.

I have to laugh an embarrasing laugh every day in this town when this time saving rule is broken. Take for instance a set of subway steps. Two or Three rows of steps and always a stalemate! Up the left, up the right. Down the Left, down the Right. See a small gap in the crowd....Go For It Dude!! What happens, is an unruly crowd of idiots stuck on the steps facing each other unable to move in either direction as the line continues to grow and angry passenger vent their frustrations with all kinds of fun words and sayings. Of course the ones speaking the loudest are also the ones that when seeing a small window of opportunity will leap into the hole in the up/down stairway crowd and be stuck between two Puerto Rican teenage moms with SUV sized strollers and 15 shopping bags trying to go down the steps on the Wrong Side.
It's even more fun on a very narrow set of stairs which "only" have room for two across. Theoretically a thinking person should figure that one side (right), should be used for the up/down trip, thus making for a delightful commuting experience...SORRY but WRONG...in NYC it's "Anything Goes" After all..this is the "Wild Side" of town and like the Wild West.. there aren't many rules that apply to pinhead mentality.

Oh yes, I almost forgot to pick on my Chinese neighbors. What was I thinking? They are the worst when it comes to this. The Japanese have it down to an art. In Japan, even though it's left/right like in England...they always and automatically stay to the correct side and get around much faster than we do and with a lot less stress.
I'm walking up a narrow set of steps last year when I had a bad knee and needed to hold the railing. I'm walking up on the "right" side. Now, walking down on this side (her left/wrong side) is a black woman. We came face to face and she was determined to not budge. I said "Excuse me, you're on the wrong side." First she says "I know that!", then retracts that statement as she goes around me and starts doing that side to side head movement shouting "Uh uh....You on the wrong side, not me..you on the wrong side!"

I'm thinking of moving soon. As soon as I find the Upper Right Side.

Next Stop... Willoughby...

2005-09-17T00:15:00.000-04:00

Submitted for your approval...
I don't know why, but lately I have been remembering old episodes of the old, black & white, "Twilight Zone" TV show. I guess living in New York can sometimes do that to a person.

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity—a dimension of sound, of sight, and of mind. It is called .....DUNCAN DONUTS!

Tonight's "Foaming at the Mouth" session was sparked by a visit to the local DD. Not just tonight...actually years of donut eating and watching...listening...saying "thank you" when I don't really mean it.

Did you know that, next to doctors, the second most popular and profitable profession in India is owning an American Duncan Donuts franchise? Next on the list is Radiology followed closely by cab drivers. All is fine. I don't have a problem with Indian people. What I do have a H u g e problem with is miscommunication while using my native English tongue in an English speaking country. This daily frustration is shared by many of us out there but most, "don't want to offend". I can also assume that there are multitudes of others, lacking the "Olives" to say what they feel.

Ok so this place is Always out of Blueberry Cake Donuts. I always complain, since it must be one of their best sellers they should always make more. Now they look at me and smile because...I am the "Blueberry Donut Guy" (or, blibidee goopah, in the Bengali tongue) Tonight...I took a chance and ordered two Blueberry Donuts. I then noticed one lonely one next to a huge batch of almost seasonal Pumpkin Cake Donuts. Drool was forming. The clerk said "no more bloobeli cock doonots." Leaning over the counter, and pointing my English speaking finger I say "what's that?" "Oh, those ponkin cocks, ponkin cocks" he tells me ... "No, next to it...isn't that a Blueberry?" He nods in the affirmative.
"WELL?" I say...."Can I Have It?" He explains.."But we don't have two...just this last one"...
(Holy fuckin shit!...either a language barrier here or else there is a village missing an idiot somewhere in India!)

He hands me my bag and says "$1.30 pleeze" so I hand him a twenty. "dooboo habee kurreed ass?"
"WHAT?"
Again he asks "dooboo habee kurreed ass?"
"W H A T are you saying?? I don't understand you AT ALL!!

He gives me a "nevermind" nod and gives me my change from the twenty. Walking home, I deduced that he was asking me if I had anything smaller than a twenty. I wonder if this is really worth the trouble and anguish? Just for One Bloobeli Cock Doonot?

Voodoo Etouffe'

2005-09-14T23:34:00.000-04:00

NEW ORLEANS
August, 1983

With all the talk about New Orleans going on these days and rightfully so, an event buried in my gray matter came back to me this morning while doing my Cocoa Krispies and coffee ritual rising act. This has nothing to do with the recent disaster but relates to the uniqueness of this quaint urban metropolis.

Walking the French Quarter one muggy afternoon, I really needed a brief quickie with an a/c unit so stepped inside a small shop. I didn't know or care for that matter what they sold there and at first just assumed it was a souveneir shop of some kind. Ahhh ok that's better. Nice now...Cold air on my wet shirt and several anatomically correct voodoo dolls. What? Wait, let's back up again. What is all this shit? Books on spells, the history of Haitian voodoo and cheap incense burners. Many vials of strange labeled potions and herbs on the counters. I was in a Voodoo shop. I saw many occult looking medalians and jewelry of which i bought one. It was two snakes in a sort of sixty-nine position, heads biting tails forming a reptilian circle. A circle of fertility. Well thats what the clerk at the counter told me.
Come to think of it, this was the year my son was conceived. Damn...does this mean my son is voodoo induced?
I keep seeing images of myself totally naked except for the voodoo amulet and black socks...how revolting!

Shit...I lost my streetcar of thought..hmm.. Ah Voodoo!, yes that's where we were, ok, voodoo shop, silently chuckling to myself on the "stuff people will buy" untill I got to the counter. That's where things started getting weird. Well... unexplainable, perhaps.

As the odd looking shopkeeper was ringing up my purchase, I made one of my typical wisecracks, "Do people actually believe in all this shit?" He gave me a half nod and the look of a person whos religion or background was just insulted.
Then... I felt it. My teeshirt had been sliced in the middle, in a diagonal line. I heard a slassssh sound and looked down, my finger tracing the slit and noticed the blood. Very fine as in a razor or nasty paper cut. I tried to say something but it came out slurred as if I had a small stroke. I took the bag and walked out to the street and just stopped and tried to figure out where the hell I was.

Out of nowhere the sky filled with dirty looking, thick, black storm clouds. The wind was blowing the dust and litter at me and I felt very stoned, as if I had been drugged and knew that I needed to be back in the safety of my hotel room. The big problem was that although I was maybe three or four blocks from it, I didn't remember which way to walk. I was Lost.

I started to walk while looking at the sky and fiddling with my slashed tee shirt. Then as if waking from a dream, the clouds were gone, the wind stopped, and the oppressive Louisianna humidity was once again, making me miserable. I looked at a street sign, Bourbon Street. Two minutes before, I had no idea where I was, all the while standing in the heart of the French Quarter!

What really happened to me that day is anyones guess. Hypnotized? Had a mini spell cast upon me for my insensitive remark? I don't know but the tear in my shirt was real, along with a four inch paper cut on my belly

Caffeine Jitters

2005-09-14T01:00:00.000-04:00

Starbucks and the assholes it attracts.

Ever notice when someone at Starbucks orders a coffee beverage and the length of the order is so long you would have to be a memory expert to make it right?
I had been planning on writing a piece about this until this weekend. My observation was stolen by Bill Maher (of "politically incorrect" fame) and he has it in writing so I will give him the credit. He also made me laugh and I don't even like the guy. I'm taking the following directly from his book, "New Rules". It's so simple and true!

NEW RULE
The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy half-low-fat iced vanilla double-shot gingerbread cappuccino extra dry light ice with one Sweet' N Low and one Nutrasweet......" you're a huge asshole!
If you're this much of a control freak about coffee, you must be really unbearable when it comes to something important, like a Danish.

SEPTEMBER 11th

2005-09-11T16:51:00.000-04:00

I remember seeing the Sept 11 tragedy unfold from a black and white tv set at a thrift store in Atlanta. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This is MY CITY goddamnit!! How dare they! Somehow I bonded more with NY and my fellow NY'ers watching the thousands of Gods lucky survivors running from the carnage in fear.

I can't "blog" today. Can only take off my hat, curb my hate and silently pray for the senseless loss of souls that day, who happened to get in the way of a false gods vision.

Nagging Observations

2005-09-07T09:58:00.000-04:00

Observations around NY or (What I See)

I need a daily dose of catharsis, so I feel I should bring this constant observation of mine out in the open, Because:
a) It's not good to keep things that bother you pent up inside.
b) Sharing is what God likes.
c) It's something to fill in this white part of the screen.

I guess I have to first explain an idiosyncrasy of New Yorkers concerning Spanish speaking citizens and even those people themselves.
In NYC we have a bad habit of calling anyone from a Latin American country "Spanish." I'll have to admit that I was one of them too, once. I hear people all the time reffering to "the spanish guy" or the Spanish part of town" etc.
The fact is, people...They are NOT SPANISH! Is this a disappointment for you knowing that you have been wrong all your life? Feel let down? Too bad..take a history adult ed course.

I haven't met one Spanish person in NY unless it was a tourist from Madrid asking for directions in Times Square. Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, Mexicans, Columbians, Cubans, Hondurans, Ecuadorians, etc are NOT SPANISH. They speak Spanish and hundreds of years ago when the Spaniards were on their conquer, rape and pillage kick, these countries were taken over by Spain. The Spaniards settled in, built the towns and bred with the Indians of those countries. For example, look at Mexico. The Aztecs and Mayan people were a race of slight, dark skinned so called indians, natives, you know what I mean. Todays Mexican is a result of years of true Mexican and Spanish "blending" so to speak. Don't see many Mayans or Aztecs around anymore do you?

I understand the generalization of the term Spanish people that so many Americans use, but it's wrong.
Maybe it's because I have been to Spain a few times. Have you ever seen true Spanish people? They look nothing like a Puerto Rican for example. They look very "European" because.. well, they are! You see average height to tall people with slight latin or mediterranean features. Blondes and blue eyes, light skinned people, almost void of the typical "what we call Spanish" look. The Spanish would laugh you out of their country if you told them that your friend Norbert from Belize was Spanish not to mention being insulted.
The national language of Brazil is Portugese and yet the people are still Brazilians and not Portugese people, right?.

Anyway, stepping down from my podium, I can now talk about my "Observation". This is what I do and why I created this blog. I was hoping people would leave comments and help me figure things out (like the one shoe phenomena) but was wrong. They lurk and read. Read and look and never comment. There is one WoodstockGEN reader from Newton, NJ thats been on this blog 118 times. I don't have a clue who he/she is but I am happy that they enjoy my ramblings regardless, and hope they keep coming back and at least tell a friend or two. I guess what I'm trying to say is that without the answers I seek I am doomed to go on writing this damn thing untill my fingers are forever silenced from their jittery, tippity tip tap taps on this old Compaq.

Finally My Observation:
Why is it, that I'd say 99.9% of all the moms and babies in strollers are Hispanic (Spanish?) Every day, everywhere I go I am stepping over these annoying carriages and strollers in crowded subway cars and on the steps. I am in a hurry and get stuck behind a wall of strollers with Hispanic women pushing it while holding another child by the hand. Many times dad is also there to complete the family. Do you see it too? They are everywhere. Hispanic women and their babies in strollers and always getting in your way. This isn't picking on them at all. I mentioned once that my own mother was Mexican. (Hmm I wonder if she dragged me everywhere in a stroller too?)
BUT...Why only the Spanish Speaking ones? Everyone has kids and babies. You can't say that they have more babies than others, because then.where Are The Others?
NY is probably the most diverse city on the planet with millions of small children of every ethnic background you could imagine. Where are the Indian and Chinese babies? I never see them being pushed over pedestrians feet in a crowd. I see many Russians these days but why not russian families or moms with their little Boris's or Natasha's? Even on the coldest, nastiest days of winter they are out. They have a plastic, tarp like cover for the stroller that completely wraps the front of it, sheilding out the frigid air. (not to mention probably suffocating the poor kid at the same time) I always thought that was dumb. We hear warnings about little children playing with plastic bags and its danger, then we throw a plastic bag over them in the stroller and maneuver it down six flights of slippery subway steps!
I don't think there is really an answer to this and even the parents with the strollers wouldn't know. It's just one of my neurotic observations. Do you see it too?

Closing Time

2005-09-06T15:51:00.000-04:00

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf closed this Sunday after a successful seven month run.

As I said in a previous post, I would report anything I dug up at the post-performance party.
I don't have much to say actually....er well it was like most of the Broadway Show parties I've been to. You enter, find the catered food table, fill your plate. Go to the bar for a drink (these two steps may be done in reverse order) Find a seat usually next to someone you know, sit and eat. You look around to see if there is anyone worth staring at. Ahh there's Edward Albee himself (Playwright) in typical New York celeb attire (black on black). The four cast members are putting on makeshift costumes of each other to do a small enactment of the play, Kathleen Turner playing George and Bill Irwin as Martha. The little skit took place in the front of the small room which was located upstairs from a nearby bar/restaurant. I think we mostly laughed because we were supposed to. It was ok but not hysterical or even SNL material for that matter. I had my camera out and took a few pics from the skit, but when everyone was in the outdoor back room I wanted to ask Kathleen for a pic with me but chickened out. Hey, you saw what she did to William Hurt in "Body Heat"!

THUNDER ROAD

2005-09-04T00:12:00.000-04:00

There were ghosts in the eyes
Of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
on the wind
So Mary climb in
It's town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win

Just heard an acoustic version of this tonight for the first time in many years
and listened to it this time. Springsteen was one of the best street poets up to his third album.
Then he got rich.and lost his creativity fizz and hunger to "make it". Ironically, this is the period when he became a mega star. Go figure.

BILL, IS THAT YOU?

2005-09-03T00:07:00.000-04:00

While checking my statistics software that tells me all sorts of important data on who what and where people visit this site, I have been noticing a user/reader from Redmond, Washington. The company he/she connects from is some software developer called Microsoft. See Below:

(Microsoft Corp)
Washington, Redmond, United States, 60 returning visits

I'm wondering if ths is Mr Bill Gates. He might have heard that I once had a chinese pirated copy of Windows 3.11 for Workgroups and now is trying to find out all about me to get his $79 back. Well Bill....c'mon fess up..are you the lurker? You know we have ways of finding out Bill if it is you. Are you offering me $50 Million to buy WoodstockGen? Is that your devious plan huh Bill? Well I may consider leasing it to you if the price is right, but $50 Mill? Don't make me laugh nor insult me please, ok?
Or maybe you want to hire me, relocate me to rainy Washington State and give me a disgustingly huge salary to entertain you like your personal jester hmm? If I can have my own office and the newest and fastest Macintosh on the planet I will consider the offer. If not, sorry....no deal. Have your guy call my guy and we might come to an agreement sometime in the future.

If this Microsoft lurker is not Bill Gates.. then I just embarrased myself for nothing. One fake copy of XP coming up!