So, I’m watching TV the other day. This commercial comes on, there’s a couple in a row boat. The row boat is taking on water due to a leak in the bottom of the boat. The guy (the one with the oars) is looking around frantically to figure out a way to stop the boat from sinking. His companion, a shapely young woman, reaches into her purse and violá! She takes out a tampon and gingerly inserts it into the hole with the leak solving the problem.

I’m a guy.

I know from experience none of the ladies I’ve known relishes ‘the curse’ but, am I missing something here? What’s the inference of this spot? Is this woman supposed to be the McGyver of tampons? I’m thinking this spot was written by some dopey guy but, I could be wrong. I’m curious to know what women think when they see something like this — as a guy all I can say is that it would probably make for one truly bizarre date.

Then I did some searching:

It's not about how old you are.
It's not about what you do for a living.
It's not about being a mom or a career woman.

It's a way of being - a state of mind.

Pearl Girl - a woman who's sensual, confident and comfortable in her own skin.

Tampax celebrates a Pearl Girl's true essence and active lifestyle with Tampax Pearl Plastic - the innovative tampon that's ALL about keeping you out there, feeling fresh and feminine EVERY day of the month. With the incredible comfort and extraordinary protection of Tampax Pearl, the days of your period become like any other day.

Who writes this stuff?! Apparently this is supposed to be the ‘Pearl Girl’s’ buzz.

Then I look further and it appears that there’s some sort of faux email campaign about the damn things.

The things you miss out on being a guy.

Today, I got to shovel again. Whoopee! So, we get a glimpse into daily life around the ole F.O.S.

Actually it wasn’t that bad and I don’t mind getting the exercise. The last snow we had last week we got quite a bit but all the gook I threw down took pretty good care of it.

I wasn’t sure we were going to get a lot of snow. I kept watching the TV yesterday into the night somehow hoping the forecast would change. I just hated last week with the cold weather and I was really hoping it would get just warm enough we would have rain. I can’t complain too much about the cold though, I just play hermit and avoid going out.

So, I got the driveway shoveled and then I threw down the last of the stuff I had gotten since it was still snowing. It was good since it meant that I wouldn’t have to go out again. I even did part of the neighbor’s driveway — the bottom part, the hard part where the plow kicks back all the snow from the street. It was a matter of self-interest in a way since we’re downhill from those neighbors and I was insuring the next time the plow came through I didn’t just kick a bunch of snow back into the driveway.

I was also hoping my neighbor would ‘get it’ and the next time we had snow, shovel the way I did since I went up the street in front of his house and took a lot of the snow and just shoveled it back up out of the street. This way the next time the plow came through he didn’t wind up with ‘plow mess.’

Afterward I went in and told the EYOC (that’s Eighty Year Old Child for the uninitiated) that the ‘guys’ had come to shovel and asked how much I should tip them. He got all up in arms about tipping anyone who shoveled the driveway. Then, to add fuel to the fire, I said it had cost $30 to shovel the driveway.

Well that hit a nerve, last time we had a heavy snow though the guys knocking on the door actually wanted a bit more than that (and I couldn’t blame them - it is a bit of work). I wanted to make a point.

So, he turned and said, “Didn’t you shovel it? I saw you outside I thought you were taking the snow off?”

The EYOC hasn’t shoveled in years, not since he was the SFYOC (Sixty Five Year Old Child) or even before, I always had those images of seeing him keeled over in the driveway. As much as I may not get along with him at times, I wouldn’t let that happen.

Anyway, I said to him, “Yeah, the snow crew came and shoveled the driveway for you.”

He was mumbling and grumbling when I just turned around and said finally that I had in fact shoveled but, maybe he should think about paying me for it. I didn’t want money from him and I said that. What I did want is to be able to stop hearing him complain about me on the phone all the time and that’s what I said.

This caused him great consternation. His first response was to yell on how we should just have the phone taken out of the house because he can’t have a private conversation - this is from the guy who has the door closed but, whose hearing is so incredibly bad the level of his voice can be heard rather clearly in the basement.

On the subject of his hearing, when he pulls into the driveway you can hear (I mean, you actually know) what radio station he has on. When he has the TV on sometimes, you can actually watch the same channel in another part of the house without the sound on and follow everything rather well (I have confronted him at times about this by knocking on his door and telling him the neighbors called and asked if he would turn his TV up because they can’t quite hear it clearly).

He has every right to complain as much as he wants, I just don’t want to hear it. It gets a little much at times. After washing his dishes, taking out his trash, cooking for him, fixing everything around the house that breaks (which is how I spent a better part of Saturday - fixing the exercise bike I gave him because he broke the thing) you grow tired of hearing someone complain about you instead of at least appreciating the efforts you put in on their behalf.

I’m not alone in this, I know other people dealing with older family members going through much the same thing but, I have been doing a lot longer than a lot of people realize.

Anyway, the snow got shoveled and I gave him a bit of grief. He actually had been invited to go out with a lady friend but as he put it ‘he doesn’t want her to get the wrong idea.’ This translates into, ‘if I let her get too close she’ll come to rely on me and I don’t want to feel responsible to anyone.’

This is a lifelong trait.

So, that got done and the bike got fixed and I managed to get some things around here cleaned up reclaiming more open floor. My life has become a quest to throw things out and reclaim floor space - what does that say about me.

I’m never sure who reads so, I’m sorry to bore. I had meant to write the other day about Bush’s announcement regarding the space program, about watching Dick Gephardt speak and also about MLK’s birthday which was this past Thursday but, in each instance I crashed when trying to upload the entries so, it’s just more mundane stuff — if I’m motivated later maybe I can come up with something more entertaining.

I write these long entries, incomplete. I try to save them as drafts and whammo! App crashes. Crap!

The new tool for voters in the New Millenium:

FactCheck.org

It’s snowing again and I’ve already spoken to how much I love the winter’s answer to precipitation. I threw salt and ice melt down on the driveway earlier so every 45 minutes or so, I go to the window and look out to see the black pavement of the driveway with a glee akin to a kid at Christmas.

Earlier this winter, I shoveled after a particularly heavy snow. I was pleased with two things: I got it down quickly for the amount of snow and I didn’t wind up with a sore back the next day.

Monday we had a little bit of snow and I went out to clear it from the driveway. Nothing big really, just pushing the stuff of to the side. While I was doing it, the lip of the shovel caught on part of the concrete of the driveway, a small rise of a sort. Of course when this happened, I got twisted up because I was pushing forward and the shovel refused to move past the rise.

I wound up hurting my back.

So, today is probably the first day it doesn’t hurt as much (or at least I didn’t notice it as much as I did Monday night and Tuesday) and I’m throwing gook on the driveway to make life easier in the morning (and also not to spend as much time in the bone-numbing cold).

That’s the way things work sometimes, big, big things (8 inches of snow), no problem — little thing (small dusting) and I wind up hurt.

Go figure.

The New York City Taxi and Limousine Commission can revoke the license of a cab driver who refuses to pick up a customer even if the driver has no prior violations, an appeals court in Manhattan ruled Tuesday.

The unanimous panel of the Appellate Division, 1st Department, reversed a lower court ruling that said the penalty was too stiff for a first infraction and violated the city's Administrative Code, which sets guidelines for punishing drivers.

I saw this in the paper today and just had to weigh in...

There is a unfair standard being applied here which no one seems interested in addressing. The enforcement of this rule is as it applies to ‘yellow, medallion cab drivers.’ Some of you might ask whatever do you mean?

Well, New York is served by loads and loads of cabs. There are just below 13,000 medallion, yellow taxis. These are the cabs most identified with New York city. They are the cabs which are legally allowed to acknowledge street hails and to service the airports and such.

However, there are fleets upon fleets of taxis serving New York. There are the livery (gypsy) cabs seen in so many neighborhoods of the outer boroughs (sometimes with radios and often accepting street hails), radio car services (which employers use to take workers home after a late night and to the airport prior to business trips) and simple radio taxis (fleets of cabs which are base in the outer boroughs and take radio calls only serving local neighborhoods in which they are based).

Everybody has taxi horror stories (I’ve been on both ends of the coin) but, bear in mind the rules which are being applied are almost exclusively being applied to yellow, medallion taxis only!

Radio cars (black cars as they are known throughout the industry) deal in corporate (read clean) work. The radio groups are self-regulating, don’t deal with cash calls often and get a minimum every time someone sits in the back seat of their car (the drop is around $8 now I believe). Radio drivers don’t need to discriminate between riders because most of their work is paid in advance via credit card. It’s not a cash business, they don’t carry excess amounts of cash and their clientele is for the most part pre-screened. Also, as a driver for a radio group, they get benefits, spend much of their day waiting (parked) for a call and aren’t in a position where they would have to refuse a fare.

Livery cars often work the outer boroughs. The taxi and limousine commission focuses the lion’s share of it’s enforcement efforts in Manhattan and at the airports. While livery cab drivers are still subject to enforcement of TLC equipment violations (whether ticketed by TLC inspectors or NYPD) the enforcement is sporadic at best. Consequently, this is one of the reasons you can see a ‘gypsy’ cab that looks as if it’s being held together by string. It’s also why you hear those horror stories every once and awhile of somebody getting into a ‘gypsy’ cab, going to the airport and paying a ridiculous sum. Gypsy cabs usually don’t have meters and the driver can get away with charging a fee at his discretion (depending on whether or not he thinks he’ll get caught). Maybe he doesn’t have insurance, maybe he doesn’t even have a license. It’s not an easy job and usually the gypsy cab driver is desperate to make money (could be an illegal alien) but, there is after all a gyp in gypsy. If a livery cab driver refuses a fare in the outer boroughs, chances are more than likely nobody will know or complain (no handy dandy medallion number to lodge a formal complaint against).

Radio groups in the outer boroughs also screen their clientele to a certain extent. Drivers are ‘employees’ and they usually don’t accept street hails unless they want to make some extra money without the boss knowing about it.

Now, we get to the yellow cab drivers.

Most yellow cab drivers are independent contractors meaning they rent the car and medallion per shift (it’s actually called leasing). In the old days (right around the time I was starting) there was a union and to be a yellow cab driver you had to join. You paid union dues but, got the benefits of union representation in any dispute with the cab company you worked for. Also, you and the company were partners. The cab company got a percentage of the meter receipts each shift and you got a percentage of the receipts plus your tips. The company paid for gas and upkeep on the cab. If you broke down, driver and company bore the loss of time due to breakdown equally. Also, at this time radios were still in medallion cabs meaning if there wasn’t any street business, you could work the radio and vice a versa (round about ’84 then Mayor Koch outlawed radios in yellow cabs which started the ‘black car’ business). The nice thing about the radios is, help was only a radio call away.

Again, nowadays drivers are on their own. If the car breaks down, they might get a credit on some of their lease monies but, it’s up to the discretion of the owner. When the fare goes up, so too do the lease rates meaning any increase doesn’t benefit the driver as much as it does the cab owner. There are no benefits (health or otherwise), if you don’t work, you don’t make money. You have to make back your lease money and the money you’ll spend on gas before you even begin to earn money for yourself. Lease rates can run anywhere from $85 to $120 per 12 hour shift - if you think the streets are brimming with fares at 3:30 in the morning, you’re sadly mistaken.

And if someone winds up taking you to a remote area to rob you and you wind up shot, too bad. There’s no pension (as there is for a city employee), no medical benefits and if you survive you can be sure there won’t be the kind of manhunt there is when a cop or a city bus driver is shot. There is no hue and cry of outrage from the general populace when a yellow cab driver gets shot as much as a byline buried somewhere in the interior of the paper. Of course, while you’re recovering from your injuries, you’ll be unemployed without any income.

Yellow taxis aren’t a right. They aren’t public transportation in the same sense the subway or bus is. The only thing a driver has to protect himself are his own wits, abilities and street savvy. The old saw goes ‘walk a mile in his shoes’ and anyone who gets their back up about cab drivers with righteous indignation should spend a couple of shifts in the drivers’ seat before opening their big mouth. After a couple of days bouncing your kidneys around for 14 hours and dealing with the public I think you’ll have a higher opinion of taxi drivers.

If you build it, they will come (or is that go in this instance?). A throne fit for a king and something any man could be proud of.

Toto, were certainly not in Kansas anymore, the $5k toilet which got a write up in the paper today.

“He has no idea how $1.5 million ended up in his account,” lawyer Kenneth Richardson told a Brooklyn Federal Court jury.

...for all of you who ever questioned why we have an income tax.

A Brooklyn office temp’s checking account got a $1.5 million boost from the IRS after he doctored his tax forms to reflect $9 million in earnings - but jitters about collecting the money got the best of him, prosecutors told a federal jury yesterday.

Who the f**k do I call to get them to turn up the thermostat on the New York area over the next couple of days!

So much for global warming.

I was listening to This American Life over the weekend and one of the stories was by Nubar Alexanian about his tinnitus. It was a great piece and it struck a chord.

I didn’t know I had tinnitus for a long time.

When it happened, it would be sporadic and I always thought it was some kind of high frequency pitch my ears could pick up. It didn’t even occur to me something could be wrong with my hearing.

I caught some kind of a cold when I was in Europe a bunch of years back, mostly it was just a slight sore throat that manifested itself the day before I was supposed to leave.

The flight back had a connection in London and on the way in to land, I couldn’t pop my ears. The pressure just kept building up not matter what I tried. My head felt like a balloon about to burst. I couldn’t even hear the women sitting right next to me who I had been talking to throughout the flight and I could barely hear the steward when he came over after I hit the call button.

Ultimately, I did get my ears to pop although it was more of a literal thing (I think I wound up puncturing my eardrums). When it happened, I heard a sickly squeal as the pressure from my sinuses was released, it sounded like letting the air out of the aforementioned balloon.

I had to see a nurse at the airport, missed my connection, stayed the overnight (taking the subway and wandering around London on a dazed Saturday night). Wound up having bad infections in both my ears and missing a week’s worth of work.

Last year, I got sick again.

I kept trying to take time off to get better and every day the people at the place I was working at had some kind of emergency or another. I wound up in the hospital and less than a week later when I did come back somehow I was expected to spend 24+ hours at work... even though I could barely hear because of the tinnitus, I was staggering around the office like I was drunk (no equilibrium when the infection in your ears is super bad) and I really shouldn’t have been back at work at all.

You try to be responsible and people just try to take more advantage of you.

Anyway, since the last time I got sick (almost a year ago now), the tinnitus has been a fairly constant companion. I keep the TV or the radio on (sometimes both) just to fill up the empty space and keep from focusing on the constant tone. Some days it’s not so bad, others it can almost drown out everything else.

It was good to hear the story and at the very least know I’m not alone. Take a listen.

Texas Two Step?


The Rocket blasted out of retirement and landed back
home in Houston. Three months after Roger Clemens threw his final pitch for the New York Yankees in the World Series, the six-time Cy Young Award winner signed a one-year contract for $5 million Monday with his hometown Astros.



The Post made no bones about it, calling Clemens a traitor. Guess Yankee fans know how Red Sox fans felt a few years back. And to think, it all would have been prevented if George had just appreciated Andy Petite.

Have you seen this man?

Actor-writer Spalding Gray has been reported missing, police said. Police in New York City and in Southampton, N.Y., where the actor keeps his primary home, were searching for the actor.

Two years back, I attended an event at CUNY midtown on 34th Street where Gray was to discuss his work and his life with his current editor. I was really excited to have the opportunity to see him in such an intimate situation where he would actually be taking questions from the audience.

I’ve been a big fan of Gray since his ‘Monster in a Box’ was shown on HBO years back.

Well, the audience was a strange mix of Gray’s fans and oldsters (the event had been sponsored by AARP). Gray seemed withdrawn and closed of from his interviewer and the audience.

Overall, it was disappointing.

I couldn’t blame Gray though as it came out during the course of the evening he had been in a terrible plane accident a few months earlier and was suffering from continual pain as a result of the accident — to give you an idea of how sever the injuries were, one of Gray’s legs was now shorter than the other causing him to have problems walking (jogging which he apparently did regularly was no longer an option). Physical activity of any kind was laborious and it closed Gray off from a lot of the things he enjoyed.

At one point during the question and answer period, I was tempted to ask Gray if he thought he would have been as successful if he hadn’t been stricken with long-term depression (a malady he struggled greatly against throughout his life). Without the constant yearning, the pangs for happiness, would he have been as proficient? If he had been content and happy, would he have written and performed as much as he had? Or would his happiness, his satisfaction with life taken away the unrelenting motivation he was possessed by.

I had my own reasons for asking the question (having also labored under the burden of depression) but, was something in the way he acted on-stage, his mannerisms, the halting way he spoke, the guarded mien of his body language which made me think it would not be such a good topic to explore.

The very next day, Spalding Gray tried to kill himself out in the Hamptons.

Sometimes you beat the beast but, sometimes the beast beats you. The battle lasts your whole life and you never truly escape its grasp.

All in all, I hope Spalding Gray turns up safe and well somewhere and all he needed was nothing more than some time to be alone to struggle against the beast he’s fought for so long.

One of the things that I really liked when I first go into the whole Mac thing was the kind of rebellious aspect that the whole PC thing had about it. Most of the guys who later become multi-millionaires and billionaires were geeks with hobbies. The personal computer was so different from corporate networks and the Mac in particular was the bane of PC support departments everywhere because of the ways users would tweak their machines.

The last few iterations of software are moving away from that. Especially now that the move to OS X is in full force which enables corporations to set privileges on each users machine. It seems like the antithesis of everything that the Mac was all about.

One of Apple’s partners in their success was Adobe which started making their software send mash notes to the Adobe mother ship surreptitiously so Adobe could discretely put a stop on piracy. So, this announcement is just another step down the road to the Orwellian fantasy:

Adobe Systems Inc. acknowledged Friday it quietly added technology to the world's best-known graphics software at the request of government regulators and international bankers to prevent consumers from making copies of the world's major currencies.

Adobe, the world's leading vendor for graphics software, said the secretive technology "would have minimal impact on honest customers." It generates a warning message when someone tries to make digital copies of some currencies.

I swear to God, life sometimes feels like a game of musical chairs especially when it comes to work. Everyone is desperate to find a place to park their ass (yours truly included). It’s one of those bad things about freelancing and employers take advantage of it. I hate it. It puts me into competition with people I know and like and makes everyone wary and antsy.

Eeeewwwww.

I consider myself very lucky. Although I am quite the recluse most of the time (something that runs in the family I would think), I have the good fortune to have crossed paths with a great many interesting and talented people who suffer my foibles and maintain a connection with me.

The other day, I got the nicest email from a woman I used to work for (and also who I have a great deal of respect for) which made me smile and then this morning I got a very funny email from a friend who took the time out to make a funny movie poster based around a blog entry.

I keep meaning to write but, I either lose my train of thought, move on to other things or the app crashes...

...the days of the PowerCenter Pro as a web surfer are numbered.

Ma’am, please hop up into the stirrups prior to boarding.

Between fingerprinting and taking the photos of people coming into the country, aren’t we getting to the point of ridiculousness? Nature is chaotic (thankfully) the world will never be a totally safe place. Why in heavens name would anyone want it to be? What a boring place.

Anyway, I just wanted to welcome 2004 by making the statement that yes, the terroristS have won! We used to live in a free and open society but ever since September 11th we have taken more and more steps towards becoming a police state (thank you Congress for the Patriot Act).

What! Is everyone out there sleeping?!

Well, well, well... here it is the cusp of 2004.

I didn’t mean to be so remiss in my blogging duties but, a bunch of days goes by before you know it.

Im sitting under the chill of a fan in a high ceilinged room painted in brightly lit colors. Outside, there are palms trees swaying lazily in a cool evening breeze coming in off the ocean under a coal black sky full of stars.

Is this any way to bring in the New Year?

You bet your a**!

Earlier this evening I supped outdoors in the garden of an intimate Italian restaurant. What a treat to be dining Al Fresco at the year’s end.

What do you call a vacation when you haven’t worked in a few weeks? Is it truly a vacation? Anyway, whatever you would call it, I know that nothing beats the glory of being someplace warm to celebrate the New Year, and to think two weeks or so back I was griping about shoveling snow.

So, the other day, blog sensei had this link posted to an article up on Time Out New York: The things you gotta do before you can call yourself a real New Yorker.

So, it’s all in fun and I click on the link and start reading through the article.

About two pages in, I find myself getting really, really mad (yeah, that’s me... the world’s angriest man – hello, Mr. Furious). So, I’m trying to figure out what it is that’s p**sing me off. I don’t read Time Out so, I’m trying to figure out it’s slant.

Then, I realize what it is. What I find upsetting is the whole ‘take a test’ to call yourself a real New Yorker thing. I know it’s tongue in cheek but, I also know that there are more than a few people who will be making the rounds at parties over the next several weeks and bragging about how they scored.

Nevermind, the whole thing has this real, transplanted, lily-white New York experience thing all over it. Like New York is this f**king theme park you come to visit.

These people are the reason getting an apartment is so g***amn expensive in this city. Mommy and daddy pay for the big rent as 3 or 4 junior achiever morons cram themselves in a hole in the wall.

You want to call yourself a true New Yorker? Try these on:

Work at least one holiday feeding the poor.

Remember the ‘city’ is five boroughs, not just Manhattan. There is more to Queens than the two airports, more to Brooklyn than the area between Park Slope and Williamsburg, more to the Bronx than Yankee Stadium and the Zoo, more to Staten Island than the Ferry.

Work for a city agency at some point in your life. Not because you want the experience but, because it’s a decent job with good benefits.

Marvel at how Friends looks like it really could be any other city in the United States excepting New York.

Run down some contemptible piece of crap who’s just ripped off one of the idiots who has moved here and is trying to validate the experience by taking a test in Time Out magazine.

Never, I repeat never set foot in some of the finest museums or monuments the city has to offer because you are way to busy trying to survive.

Have someone put a gun to your head to rob you and have them walk away with nothing because you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of taking what is yours.

Go by the neighborhood your parents or grandparents lived in when they first arrived in this country and be proud at how far your family has come.

Spend a good portion of your day, trying to help absolute strangers because they are overwhelmed by Manhattan or in trouble.

Drive a cab for a couple of years (and speak English to boot).

Visit some other part of the country and have the people there amazed over the fact that you are a “New Yorker” and consequently bombard you with all types of inane questions about living there as if it were some kind of incredible curiousity.

Have at least one childhood friend who became a cop or fireman.

Anyway, that’s just a few for you... I just had to get that out, you’ll excuse me.

Winning brings out the fair weather fan.

In the early nineties when I was a Yankee fan and the team was losing, I actually used to enjoy going to games quite a bit.

It wasn’t fun watching them lose but, the people who were at the ballpark were the ones who really liked the game of baseball and really were the true Yankee fans.

Then, the team got better and started winning.

Out of the woodwork came the groups of guys, going to the ballpark to get as drunk as possible and have that male bonding type experience, one trying to outdo the other in bad behavior motivated by the “he who can consume the most alcohol” syndrome.

It got so bad I can remember two incidents vividly.

One, I was sitting in the upper deck having taken a woman I worked with to the game. A few seats over was a group of men (about 8 in all) who actually had the ability to embarrass me with their use of language (and I believe I am unfortunately known for my own colorful use of language). I was embarrassed mainly because it was so off putting to the woman I was with.

The second was during a game when I was sitting in the lower deck seats in right field and a man had taken his young daughter to the game. He at one point felt compelled to make a rather long and colorful commentary on Ricky Henderson’s parentage – Ricky an ex-Yankee has heard it all I’m sure but, it amazed me a father would behave in such a way in front of his young daughter.

Anyway, what prompted that little trip down memory lane was this little tidbit in the news that ran today:

After two straight last-place finishes, the New York Mets kept most ticket prices unchanged and lowered some others for the 2004 season.

Yep, losing will do that to you.

A couple of years back I had a Saturday plan (a Mets Saturday plan). It coincided with the team doing well and I got to go to another World Series game because of it (my first being the Yankees/Reds series way back when I was a teenager).

I had the plan for about two years and the first year was a dream. The people around us were really nice, you got to know them and they were really good people. The second year we got a bunch of new people. It was akin to having a house and having really bad neighbors move in.

They got Roberto Alomar that off-season and did a bunch of other things I wasn’t happy about so, I chose not to renew. Last place, two years in a row.

Might be time to get another Saturday plan, I bet all the fair weather fans are gone now.

Hee, hee, hee...

Just in time for Christmas, the ever friendly Buddy Christ. Ready for your dashboard or atop your computer monitor to give you the Divine stamp of approval when you’re having a bad day at work or when some other driver has just cut you off.

Burn baby, burn!