A random thought...

Because riding on the ol' rail always creates and sparks ideas (hey, maybe that is why as a country we are so opposed to trains??)....

In a world where hope is considered crazy, I'm often stark-raving mad.

I can't recall exactly the overheard tidbit that made me write that in my notebook, but I can recall another conversation that lends me back to a bit Lewis Black once did on what causes aneurysms (hearing something utterly stupid and not being able to get it out of your head)...

"He's kinda like my own personal Diego; he plays guitar really well, smokes weed, plays violin and is awesome on the piano."

If my head suddenly explodes and you are all wondering why... now you know.

Train hopping

In what one day I will refer to as true hobo antics and not a coffee-deprived moment in the early hours of Saturday, I was sleeping on board the train from Trenton, NJ, to NYC when the conductor asked me for my ticket. Still somewhat asleep (isn't Dramamine wonderful?) I told him he just took my ticket paper from the seat clip.

"No, that was for Newark."

"No," I said, now quite awake. "I'm going to Penn Station New York, not Penn Station Newark."

"But your ticket was for Newark." He sighed, obviously tried by my lack of clarity and utter confusion. "What code did you enter into the ticket machine?"

"100," I answered.

"You needed to enter 000 for New York Penn Station. Make sure you get the return ticket taken care of or they won't let you back on," he said and walked away. At least he didn't kick me off at Secaucus.

So, when I got into Penn Station, I looked at the NJ Transit machines and sure enough, they were right on top of each other, both in bold. So I purchased the return fare difference and then purchased a MetroCard for the subway. Meeting a friend in Park Slope Brooklyn for lunch, I had 40 minutes to get from where I was to where I was meeting her--in all rational lights, that was plenty of time. I jumped on the train headed to Brooklyn, only to find out that it was detouring due to construction and would not be making the stop I needed. So, I took the other train, which meant I would have to transfer. No big deal. I refused to drive any part of the trip, so I had already taken 3 trains to get to Penn Station.

On the train, the conductor said that we would be leaving shortly--please be patient. Every few minutes he would come on and say this... every few minutes for about 15 minutes. Finally we leave and I get to the station I need to transfer and I am on the train and though it is supposed to be express, due to construction, it is local. OKAAAAYYYY. At some point, it stopped in the tunnel and we sat again for what seemed like ages, but was really only about 2 minutes. There was no question, it was past the time I was supposed to meet and of course, there is no signal in the subway to make a phone call or send a text. Finally, and momentarily above ground, I called and explained... and there was only 1 stop between where we were and where I needed to be. I hung up, and the train stopped... where we sat, again, for another 5 minutes. Off the train, I ran the 8 blocks to the restaurant and was only 40 minutes late! It took me an hour and 20 minutes to get from Penn Station to Park Slope Brooklyn!

The subway screwed me again on the way back into the City. And I ended up getting off the train and walking the mile or so from Rockefeller Center to where I needed to go. It was sunny, but cold, and I thoroughly enjoyed the walk--letting the train aggravation wash away. It was nice being in the City. I had a nice lunch with a friend, hit Central Park and FAO Schwartz on the way back to Penn Station. I was in no particular hurry to get back on the train route I had chosen. Next time, I will drive part of it... next time, I don't have a choice, and next time I will be taking Amtrak. Next time is already planned and is work-related... but fun can still be had, no doubt.

Did the cows stop fucking?

That was the line from Trace Adkins tonight as I watched last Friday's episode of Real Time with Bill Maher. Yep, Bill came back without writers two weeks ago. Adkins response was in answer to an online question asked regarding the panels thoughts on FDA approval of selling cloned beef.

I actually was looking forward to this episode as DL Hughley was back on the panel. DL is brilliant and funny... so geekily I sat clapping and cheering as he told the conservative mouth next to him that the problem with guys like him (and no offense) was that they think if they use bigger words and talk slower people will understand. And when he argued that while overall unemployment might be at 5%, but what about urban areas like Detroit where it is over 50% and what about those that aren't counted because they aren't collecting a check anymore? You go, DL! And, as it turns out, no one wants to hear that... but that's why I like him, he keeps saying it. He has credibility that few in his economic class do, he knows both sides, and has lived both sides. When he talks about there being two Americas, you know it is because he lives the line between them.

Superbowl Sundries

Now, those of you that know me very well know that I follow sports with a very surface level mentality. I am aware, for instance, of the standings in the NBA (as I do really love basketball), and as for the other sports, I know when there is a big game and who the major contenders are... I also gather enough during the year to know which team is at an advantage based on the arrest records of their line-up (ohh, bad pun... but I have to keep it).

There is a tradition in my family started many a year ago in which all major sports games require some form of betting between my father and I. Keeping in mind, I keep up on the sports world far better than he (case in point, neither of us watched the Giants/Green Bay game, but I knew the winner when I called him at 8 a.m. and he was shocked to learn of it).

Now, there is 2 weeks until Superbowl and the fun really begins. I know my father, he's torn, he wants to bet on the Patriots... I'm perfectly fine with that--but I, like I did the last Patriots/Giants game, demand a point spread. That point spread almost won it for me last time--Damn the Giants for getting to within 3! This is where I can see him on the other end of the line, fingers twitching. So far, he's offered up a 10 point spread... but he hasn't talked to his peeps yet. So, for the next two weeks, I will engage in and enjoy the negotiations of the Superbowl Betting Sundries. At some point, I will have to check Vegas odds, but I have no worries... I still owe him $4 from the last game... yeah, we're high rollers!

On what to pounce this Saturday morning

There has been a flurry of topics that have crossed my path this week... a bevvy of ammo and other sheer nonsensical mish-mash that blows the mind really.

Let's start with the WGA. The writers are still on strike and it is simply incredible that they are--NOT because I do not agree, but that what they are asking for is not all that significant. I love that the Golden Globes were reduced to a 30 minute affair. Fashion has now lost out as a result... and given some of what I've seen on the runways, we are far better off.

The big news this week has been the upcoming Grammy's. Several musicians are also members of the Screen Actor's Guild (SAG). The news yesterday was that Beyonce (or, as I like to call her, Bouncy) will be crossing the picket lines, and I have to say, happier I could not be. I hope this means that fewer roles will be coming her way... the woman, as beautiful as she is and as fabulous a singer as she is, cannot act her way out of a paper bag.

Those who will not cross the picket lines for the Grammy's include Justine Timberlake and Jon Bon Jovi. Both fine musicians and actors. Mr. Bon Jovi really could not conceive of it--you don't come from Jersey and cross a picket line, your residency gets revoked in a 4-state radius. And Timberlake is really getting into the groove on his acting chops... he can't always be a hottie-pop-star-rapper-buddy, it would be career suicide for him any other way.

NEXT

Mind-fuckingly-numbing Election Coverage 2008: Michigan, oh Michigan, WHAT were you thinking? Romney? I know he's a homeboy of sorts, but c'mon, to borrow an old Janet Jackson: what has he done for you lately?

NEXT

Air travel: So, this should be the last of my observations on air travel as I have no intentions of flying again for a while... or at least no plans to soon as my next two trips are going to be via train (so stay tuned for rail travel in the coming weeks).

While my flight into and out of Minneapolis this week happened with relatively little incident, I noticed that I almost always end up sitting next to an undesirable. On the flight to Michigan over the holidays, I was sitting in the same row as the "Smith" family. Poppa Smith, apparently, was the 900 year old man sitting across the aisle from me and was deaf in one ear, but not the one facing me... all I could think 20 minutes into the diatribe by Mr. Smith was Poppa Smith was a lucky bastard.

On the flight out to Minneapolis, I was on a very full flight, so much so, they bumped 4 people. It was also a smaller plane--just 76 passengers. I got the one with narcoleptic sleep apnea who was over 6 feet tall and decided since I was smaller, I didn't need all the space allotted me. I was in a window seat because apparently the travel agent felt that my aisle preference wasn't really a preference. My need to use the bathroom was apparently of massive inconvenience to him--despite the fact I thought I was being nice and waiting until he finished his beverage and put his tray table up. But whatever.

The ride home, the plane was not full. Mr Charm from above was on the same flight back, but thankfully, no where near me. Instead, I got fidgety flem-guy. At least this time, I had the option to change to an aisle seat and was not trapped in. Flem-guy also had really obnoxious acne... I realize this was not his fault, but with the mucus-issue, it certainly did not help matters.

I'm sure I'm not the ideal person some people want to sit next to, either. Though, honestly, I cannot imagine that.

NEXT

This is supposed to be a long weekend for me with the Martin Luther King Jr. Holiday being Monday. But, a work project really is not going to allow me the holiday proper, I will take the time later. I do feel, however, that I embrace and reflect in some way the work MLK everyday of my life. And, considering the work that I do to help promote a healthier life, MLK would understand... I often wonder what he would think of a day of not working in his honor. I'm fairly certain that he would promote the use of the day to do something good, do something to help others. I hope in the end, I achieve that vision.

Sadly, the news out of Philly today is not a police shooting, but the shooting death of a child at a rec center named in honor of MLK. It was an open gym, basketball for youths under 16. Someone walked in and opened fire. A boy died at the hospital. No one... not a single person has yet to come forward to identify the shooter. It is completely unacceptable and very saddening now and anytime it would have happened.

Democracy doesn't mean humanity

Yesterday on the way home from work, I was listening to the radio and a commercial came on talking about poverty in the US (specifically Philly) and the crisis of families not having heat in the winter because they cannot afford it. It went on to talk about a program to obtain assistance that is now available because Citgo has donated XXX amount of fuel... and it was immediately after that the line "paid for by the Venezuelan people" came in a much quieter and lower intonation before the commercial finished and moved onto the next.

And while it brought a smile to my face at the obvious political punch it packs, it also makes me very sad to know that we face this poverty in our country, and that the people of Venezuela--by no means a wealthy population--are providing assistance because our leaders are too busy benefiting from their impoverished state of being. Venezuelan Presidente Chavez is by no means perfect, but he does make a good point here... the US, for all its touting, chest thumping and trash talking of other, perhaps Socialist leaning countries, isn't taking care of its own. After all, how many did we let die and suffer in New Orleans out of foolish pride at refusing the assistance of Cuba?

Eh, it's a mall

It was nice to have a flight today in which I was not running a marathon through an airport nor sitting, unmoving for hours at a gate. And while I did land safely in Minneapolis this afternoon, I have learned that I do not do flights over two hours well. This does not bode well for foriegn travel. Although, I was crammed into a window seat next to a guy with really long legs and sleep apnea--I like aisle seats, but it was not to be this time around.

And since I had the evening free and since I was meeting a colleague for dinner at Mall of America, I decided to go early and meander the epicenter of commercialism. Sadly, a mall with a full movie theatre, an amusement park, numerous full size restuarants and variety of fast food faire, in addition to the 4 levels of shopping, did not impress me. I kept comparing it to its runner up and my neighbor, King of Prussia Mall... and quite honestly, as far as high-end retail goes, KOP supercedes MOA hands down. This is what it has come to, I am no longer phased or impressed by malls that do not have a CVS or Rite Aid within them.

Prison and democracy

This morning I've been reading up on Eastern State Penitentiary, located in Philadelphia and after seeing some brilliant photography at the Art Museum last month taken from the prison only blocks away, I decided I had to investigate myself. How, I had wondered, did this most infamous of prison exist and I not know of it (indeed my fascination with architecture, organized crime, cemeteries and prisons really all do intersect nicely). As it turns out, I was familiar with it, however, just not by name. When I drove past last month, I did recognize it from photos and in reading the history, recognized it by stories.

But that isn't my point. I only mention it because as I was reading the "6 page history" (which is on the website linked above), something peculiar struck me... perhaps I was attuned to it after a very bizarre meeting during the week which somewhat follows the same logical thought progression. In the "6 page history" it talks that in the early 1800s -- when this prison was being built -- Democracy and the prison systems were the top two things America was focused on. So the question has to be asked: Is our government plan and philosophy so very flawed that the next top thing we do well is incarcerate? To me the notion of "Come to America, we have a great prison system" sounds like the next immigration reform someone like Giuliani -- or Dubya -- would tout... oh, wait, I think they already *DID*.

Nonetheless, if we have come so far in nearly 200 years, why haven't the basics changed? We know scads more about rehabilitation now than we did then, but we still resort to the 200+ year old notions of reform. Philadelphia got a brand spanking, shiny new mayor this last week. I was privileged enough to hear the majority of his inaugural speech--which by all accounts really was as inspirational as it was risky--and one of his items was reform... true and real reform. Getting those who have served time, who are out of prison to not return to prison but return to the productive workforce. It's a novel concept and one not even Michael Nutter would put a measurable metric to on inauguration day, but after hearing him talk, I know that there is a metric he's driving to--and I hope he's everything around his words in spite the pay for play government here in Phila.

And really, I would beg the question if reform was really all that elusive a concept 200 years ago. Certainly, Charles Dickens saw and wrote about Eastern State for the sad and debilitating mess it really was--but what do you expect from someone in the liberal arts?? Still, I will go, I will photograph and I will eternally be bothered that the state of our humanity has saw so little reform over the eons of history we purport we have learned from.

Mahalo.

P.S. I just need you all to know that after spellchecking... I will apparently never learn from my history of spelling the word "prison" without two i's. That's all!

More circles raced

Hillary strapped on the big girl boots last night and went to work--it's about time. Personally, and despite my garbly-goo about hearing static when candidates talk and getting all sexied by Barack's voice, this is a truly amazing time in politicking in this country. There are no steady winds, no certain knowns... we are living in a society on the brink of converging in upon itself and there is no clear political leader that the factions are betrothed to. Furthermore, we are in the midst of a writers strike, and though our late night heroes have returned to carry out their election year duties without their writers, we are a nation not only basted in chaos, we are one without mind numbing entertainments... one really cannot reality tv entertainments.

The Spam Gods Must be Crazy

Yesterday, in my attempts to accommodate the Vinnie-kitty inability to handle steps with hip pain, I was moving shelves, books, etc. and moved wrong or something because the muscle in my back was spasming like mad. I accept that as we get older, things that may not have bothered us before may cause discomfort--I don't like it and work lotions, potions and various machinery to fight it, but I accept it. So, when I go to clean out the Spam folder and the FIRST thing I see is my "long awaited invitation to AARP" I'm not entirely amused.

The Heads are talking, but are they saying anything?

It's a typical Sunday morning... laundry to do, coffee to be drunk, cooking prep ready for the week, the news is on. And Huckabee was on, I saw his lips moving, I heard noise... and it is the same now for Romney. And because ABC is "fair and balanced" earlier they were showing Hillary and Obama and Edwards; I have no idea what Obama said either, but I'm sure it was sexy and I was seduced by that voice and intonation... Hillary, oh, ,my Hillary, this campaign is starting to show it's wear on you. You have my devotion; I signed up, I have the bumper sticker, I offered to volunteer... but your strategy isn't working well right now. And Edwards, suddenly, I'm suspicious of him... he too was speaking and there was noise--static that I could not bear.

After 20 minutes of this discussion on the NH debate, I almost long for more coverage of Dr Phil's astute analysis on the condition of Ms. Spears. Really, Dr. Phil, she needs psychological help? Are you not a psychologist? Oh, I forgot, you long ago abandoned helping anyone seriously for a dime store bit of fame and maintenance of a massive ego. What would Freud say?

A Caucus Race and a Long Tail

From the Wikipedia synopsis of Chapter 3 of Alice in Wonderland:

A Dodo decides that the birds and animals should dry off with a Caucus Race, which has no rules except to run in a circle. After half an hour or so, the race ends and everyone wins, which means they all get prizes. Alice gives out her comfits as the prizes, and the Mouse tells Alice his long and sad tale of why he hates cats, which Alice misinterprets as "tail." The chapter ends with Alice alienating the participants of the race, resulting in her being left alone once again.

Sound familiar? Iowa anyone?

I cannot say that I'm not somewhat disappointed by Hillary's loss in Iowa yesterday, but only because it was a win for Obama. True, I don't believe him to be the one with the precision ruthlessness necessary to turn us around, but he does give me hope on one end of the spectrum while Hillary's loss gives me sadness on another end.

But, at the end of the day, it is the Queen from Alice in Wonderland that brings me consolation and gives me perspective (and I bet you all thought it was the Cheshire cat)...

"I can't believe THAT!" said Alice.
"Can't you?" said the Queen in a pitying tone. "Try again: draw a long breath, and shut your eyes."
Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said, "one can't believe impossible things."
"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why sometimes I believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast!"

Good day all...

The thing about broccoli

I'm always fascinatingly and strangely amused, yet horrified, by people's notions that by simply adding broccoli to a dish it becomes healthy.

As I was preparing my annual rant on resolutions, I decided instead to contemplate why it is that according to some polls upwards of 90 percent of people who make resolutions will not stick to them. I've come to the conclusion that it is two key factors that impede people: (1) they do not make smart, strategic goals but lofty hard to conceive of ideals that belong to a massive media machine and (2) they just add broccoli.

Really the problem for (2) comes from (1), but not entirely. I know perfectly reasonable, sound minded people who don't really make resolutions, yet, they just add a few pieces of broccoli to their ham, cheese and macaroni and call it healthy. Or, they toss a few pieces of broccoli onto their baked potato with sour cream, cheese and bacon and think they are having a healthy lunch. My favorite, and actually one of my real personal favorites, is broccoli on pizza... but I do not consider it a healthy choice.