Of Course, You Know, This Means War

Of Course, You Know, This Means War

Confidential to Todd:

I'm sorry...but I simply won't stand for that kind of talk.

I haven't had any porn over here in ages, I tell you, except for that really important and relevant picture of Vincent Gallo's denouement in The Brown Bunny, and that was an ART FILM, you poopiehead, so it was necessary for commentary and crititque.

Well, I was going to tell you all a funny story about est, but now I'm not so sure I feel like it any more.

Really, you'd like to hear it? Even though it's not porn and it isn't about Todd, the poopiehead?

Well, okay, you wrestled it out of me. (What a terrific audience! Please sit down, all of you - it's too much!)

The Clever Man once told me the following anecdote: A friend of his went to an est orientation several years ago. I believe the whole est thing is defunct now, so it would have had to be awhile ago.

est, if you don't know (and I barely know myself) was a wacky spirituality thing that was popular in the 70's, much like Scientology , The Kabbalah Center, and est induction seminar is that they'd get a big group of people - and possibly Linda Evans - into a big room where they'd yammer away with their spirituality hokum introductory crap - lying on mats and closing their eyes and self-actualizing and all that sort of zen-like meditation hibberty-jibberty, but here's the funny part: they wouldn't let you leave, even to go to the bathroom, and it went on for hours.

At some point during this excercise, you were suppposed to have some sort of transcendental moment, where you would get "It". "It" was some sort of unexplainable moment of realization or something, but apparently it couldn't be explained to people unless you had them lying on mats for hours on end, bladders swelling, stomachs growling, and at some point they would just get "It."

You would ask an est person, "Well, what is 'It'?" and they would say, "I can't explain "It," you just have to experience "It"!"

So CM's friend is lying there after several hours of this irritation, eyes closed, being led in some sort of mediation exercise, and she falls asleep! But then, even worse, she is awakened some unknown time later - not by her bladder, like you'd expect - but she is awakened by the oohs and ahhs of excitement of everyone around her- they had just gotten "It"! She'd slept right through "It" and missed the whole thing!

All those hours of hunger and meditation and pee-holding-in had been wasted on her!

I bet that really sucked.

She never had the energy to go back and put up with the whole thing again to find out what the hell she had missed. I have a feeling "It" was just an enormous diappointment, like The English Patient, but, like The English Patient, no one wants to admit that they'd wasted that much time on something that shitty, so they just pretend it was great, even though it sucked, big time.

But, as horrible as that whole disappointment must have been, I bet it wasn't nearly as big a disppointment as Todd is, because Todd is a total pussy.

That is all.

The Mystery Of The Smirking President

I suppose I was a little mean yesterday, so I was thinking of nice things to say about E for today.  For example, he's decorated our apartment beautifully, and even though half the furniture is inexpensive poopie-doo from IKEA and Hold Everything!, the other half is from overpriced boutique furniture stores in the meatpacking district - and you'd never guess which half is which! 

And although I made fun of it, I happen to like his singing, even though he doesn't hit all the notes in such a way that the tune is necessarily identifiable, he's still making what might be termed "a joyful noise," and in the absence of the Lord - or Linda Hunt - that means he's making a joyful noise unto me, and that's something to be thankful for, isn't it?  As long as you're me, of course.

And he says all sorts of nice things to me, it's just that they don't make for very interesting postings, you see, so I generally haven't mentioned them.  Ever.  But that doesn't mean it's not happening! 

I don't want you, constant reader, to get the impression that there's some sort of Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf-type scene playing out in our (beautifully appointed) apartment or anything like that.  I mean, I do stumble around in a pilled-up stupor, don't get me wrong, but it's not E's fault.

You see, what happened was that I was playing cards on a cruise ship, and Liz Taylor stumbled up in a cloud of mist that made her look almost young again, and she said, "These have always brought me luck!" and tossed a big handful of Quaaludes down on the table.  I was hoping for diamonds, but then after that I didn't really care, and everything's been soft and fuzzy around the edges ever since!  Good times!

Where are your shoes, Liz?  Did you leave them in the hotel room?

Whaaaaaaaa?

Yesterday I went to Brooklyn and  helped Solomon and his boyfriend move from their former large apartment into their extremely large and spacious new apartment next door.  I'm jealous of their new refrigerator, as it's nearly twice the width of my refrigerator.  You could easily hide a body in it if you wanted, and you'd still have room left over for a rump roast. 

As expected, it was a bit of a workout going up and down all the stairs, but one just feels so much more productive than you would doing the same exercises at the gym, if the gym had a "lifting bags of clothing" machine.  It's too bad you can't work out some sort of system where you just conscript laborers from the Stairmasters at the gym into helping you move, isn't it?  Just tell them, "It's good for the abs!  Put that lamp in the study, and don't scratch the walls!"

That would be nice.

We had a break for a bento box at a local Japanese eatery, and it was like stepping into a time machine, because it's apparently still Christmastime in Japan.  They had a tree with lights and everything and they played the Carol Of the Bells.  Why not?

Yesterday I realized that we haven't had a terror alert since...why, it seems like we haven't had a terror alert since before the election.  Isn't that funny?  Even Bushie the Second should be smart enough to throw another one out there soon, just to keep up appearances and all.  Wouldn't want to give the public the impression that they were just an attempt at instilling fear into the populace in order to get them to vote for you, now, would you?

And I guess I must be dumb, because I really don't understand the point of another inauguration - did the last one wear off?

"Ah do sollumly swahr to uphold and defend the Constitution...aaaand maybe fix it up a little if I can."

If  he makes gay marriage unconstitutional, will Star Jones have to return the wedding gifts?  Think about it - I haven't!

That is all.

I've Got 25 Bucks And A Cracker, Do You Think It's Enough?

Todd is complaining on his weblog about not having enough money to give the Democrats, but I can't see the point of lugging around all that guilt, and besides, he used to work for those bitches, so he's done his part already, if you ask me. It's not like the Democratic party didn't just roll over and show their belly when the gay marriage question came up, anyway. Fuck them. If they don't have a big bowl of shut-the-hell-up about their Christian family values crap, I'm voting for the Communists in the next election - just you watch me do it!

I guess LA has made Todd go all soft in the middle after his tenure here in New York. If I was going to feel guilty about not giving money to every person who asks for it, I'd be in a crumple of tears by the time I reached my job. At some point I started to find it offensive that I had to go work at something I hated while Can Anbody Spare A Quarter Lady just dropped in for what was apparently a very short shift of turban-wearing begging before popping off by lunchtime, since she was only there in the morning. With all that time on her hands she could have worked up a catchier begging mantra, but she never varied from 'Can anybody spare a quarter or any other change can anybody spare a quartuh?' said all in one breath and without puncuation, and then repeated ad nauseam.

She's gone now, which is good, since if she was there today she'd be frozen in place until the spring thaw. I don't know where they all went, but I used to have about three homeless people who'd hit me up before I even reached the United Homeless Organization person on the corner - Can Anybody Spare A Quarter Lady, Gray Haired Possible 'Nam Veteran Hanging His Head In Shame And/Or Sleep, and then whichever person was occupying the disused doorway next to the grocery store, which was Yellow Beard The Alcoholic awhile back and then came Shalom Hungry Jew - at least, that's what his sign said, though I think he just happened upon a yarmulke one day and ran with it.

Even Mr. Free Newspaper-hander-outer is just beyond the scope of my attention - I don't have the energy to take your free paper, sir, so please don't give it to me. I mean, there's one free newspaper guy when I get on the train and another when I get off the train, and they both expect me to take a paper and read the worthless articles in it, which have all the depth of a table of contents. This is assuming I ignore the four free newspaper boxes that I pass anyway. I don't know where the time goes these days, but I'm going to have to start bringing my "Christmas present" books to the office to read during work hours or I'll never get through them. I guess I'll manage to read at least part of one on the plane on the way to visit Todd next month, where - thank Linda Hunt - I'll be visiting for several glorious non-freezing days during the President's Day holiday.

Now that I think about it, I should be bringing Todd my copy of How To Say No Without Feeling Guilty with me to lend- it's been a big help to me, though I think I could use a brush-up lesson since Solomon's going to be moving in a few days (ha ha- just kidding!).

I actually enjoy helping people move in some perverse way - it just feels so productive, somehow, and as long as it's not raining and the person has packed well, it's not all that difficult, either. You get up early, have lots of coffee, enjoy the sunrise coming up over whichever borough you're moving from, and end with a delicious meal you can enjoy guilt-free because you've been lugging all those boxes. What could be better? So if the Democrats come around to my apartment, I'll offer to help them move, if they want, but only if they've done all their packing the night before.

Cash, however, is out of the question.

That is all.