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Reading the Subtitles

The only thing worse than watching the morning local news is watching the muted morning local news in closed-captioning. Sometimes the transcribing responsibilities are apparently taken over by a crack-smoking monkey who is prone to banging the stenotype in hooting frustration. My favorite phonetic foible was a report about the health benefits of laughter, called “Lobster is the best medicine.”

But some days, it’s a godsend to have the news anchors’ hokey, jabbering small-talk sterilized into a noiseless transcript. Today the foxy business correspondant finished up her segment with the story about how the citizens of China may successfully drive a Starbucks franchise out of the Forbidden City. The attention turned back to the two anchors, seen boisterously talking and waving their arms as they transitioned to a commercial break. Their words scrolled across the screen: “I like Starbucks. Starbucks makes us warm. Starbucks drinks make us warm. We need warmth. Starbucks can stay here.”

Posted in In the News.

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Twain on Jane

Mark Twain quotes are Focaccia for the Soul. Even when they’re slathered in sentiment that I don’t care for, the underlying doughy slabs of wisdom are always worth relishing.

To wit, Mark Twain on Jane Austen (here):

*Jane Austen? Why I go so far as to say that any library is a good library that does not contain a volume by Jane Austen. Even if it contains no other book.

*It seems a great pity that they allowed her to die a natural death.

*I often want to criticise Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Everytime I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.

Comic hyperbole aside, Twain must find something redeeming in reading Austen – otherwise, why would he say ‘Everytime I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’?’ Perhaps Twain, like so many other English scholars, could not fully accept Austen as a major writer because her gushy tomes dealt with tedious upper-class precoccupations such as marriage and courtship. But these were the primary obsessions of the society in which she was cloistured. This was all Jane Austen knew, and Twain himself once said “Experience is an author’s most valuable asset; experience is the thing that puts the muscle and the breath and the warm blood into the book he writes.” And who can deny the vitality of Austen’s writing when she very properly satirizes her society’s rituals all the while appealing to the romantic notions of her readers? It is her deadpan seriousness about the trivial that makes it all seem so absurd.

Posted in Culture.

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Celebrating a Dream

This afternoon, a friend called my cell phone, unaware that I spent the holiday sequestered in the office. She mentioned liking something I wrote on this site, so I pandered: “What should I write about today? You name it, I’ll write about it.”

“Well, it’s Martin Luther King day. Write about him,” she said.

“No, I can’t write about Dr. King. He was a hero, a saint, a martyr. He’s, like, sacred.”

“Exactly. Write about how great and revered he is,” she said.

I thought about this. A casual admirer like me just can’t do justice to MLK. But my friend is one of the nicest people in the world. In fact, all my friends and family are exceedingly kind and noble, probably because only such upstanding souls are charitable enough to be around someone as withered and cruel as myself.

The best way for me to pay tribute to Reverend King is to spew virulence on Utah, whose state legislature is constitutionally bound to open their annual session on the Third Monday of January. Unable to be humbled by any racial diversity, a change to honor MLK day is called “cumbersome”. Oh, Utah. You yourself have always been kinda cumbersome.

Utah’s refusal to honor MLK is but one of its damning quirks. This is a state where little girls are named Abcde, Hoette, Saunsceneyouray, Serenity Fawn, X Y Zella… and little boys are named Antrim Zeezrom, TrinityMichaelJosef, Nightrain Lane, Kaiden Chipper. They call their NBA team the Utah Jazz instead of the Utah Latter Day Saints or the Utah Tabernacles, as if jazz was ever played in the state besides a high school marching band’s rendition of Peter Gunn. And the Mormons, who don’t want to integrate, they want to convert, and until everyone else in the world is Mormon, they’re going to hide from the sinners in the Jello Belt. Yes, the Jello Belt – apparently, green jello is to Mormons what grape soda is to Blacks.

Right now, my kind friend is thinking “Did she really just write that in her post about Dr. King?” but in my defense, I didn’t have off work today. I couldn’t devote 8 hours to reflecting upon Dr. King’s legacy of tolerance, and now I’m turning into a Republican lawmaker from Utah.

Posted in Americana.

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Sampling the Holistic Life

Last Saturday was ‘New Year Detox Day’ at the Framingham Whole Foods, which regularly holds events to educate consumers about all the exciting organic foods and supplements that will holistically heal them of disposable income.

Our grocery shopping naturally coincides with these festivities, though it’s a lousy time to shop. The prospect of free food lures a consumer that is more ‘Stop and Shop’ than ‘Whole Foods,’ if you get my drift. “This is non-dairy dip with organic capers and pressed flaxseeds,” says the earnest representative from the manufacturer, as people literally push each other to dunk fistfuls of baguette slices into the paste-like substance. Some people do not even appear to be shopping, like they were just driving by and decided to stop and pilfer a snack.

Stuffing my face in a supermarket aisle makes me feel grubby, but paying for a week’s worth of Whole Foods groceries confers a sense of entitlement. So I grabbed a few of the detox supplements:

I decided to try the Bach Flower Remedies Olive Energize serum (here), a “flower essence” oil (here) that touts itself as a “homeopathic, natural alternative to restore energy when you are physically and mentally exhausted… to leave you feeling more confident, centered, energized and focused.” I think it’s legal.

Sunday, Dose 1: The encapsulated oil is to be emptied in .5L of fresh spring water and sipped in intervals through the day. I use half-liters of Poland Spring sparkling water, worrying vaguely that the carbonation may diminish the oil’s rejuvenating, stress-fending properties. My mind and body felt alert and positive, but don’t discount my other Sunday morning all-natural energy restorers: Waffles, coffee, and George Stephanopoulos (he’s so homeopathic.)

Monday, Dose 2: I felt good, but Mondays can be the best day of the week if you do nothing all weekend but relax and watch football. However, the oil’s promised kick to my confidence never registered; I had a nagging sense that it was not just a bad hair day, it was the worse hair day ever.

Tuesday, Dose 3: Finished off my .5 liter of Energize water in 3 minutes. I was really thirsty. Since I’m supposed to sip it, that may explain why, come evening, I felt as stressed as the tires on a Fung Wah bus.

Wednesday, Dose 4: I tested my energy with an early morning spinning class. I heard rumors that this particular class had some hardcore spinners. I needed cocaine and a pound of sugar to keep up with these maniacs – flower essences just didn’t cut it.

Thursday, Dose 5: Woke up at 1:30am for my restroom break. Usually I’m not fully awake – I’m actually proud of how close to unconscious I can be and still successfully use a toilet. But when I went back to bed, I tossed and turned until 3am. As usual, when I can’t sleep, I fret about my health: “I haven’t had my moles screened for melanoma in several years… My diet lacks iron… Carpal Tunnel Syndrome is a when, not an if… stress will probably kill me.” Then I mulled over the irony of how the serum confers more energy with which to stress out.

Friday, Dose 6: What should I clean first – the bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, living room? Maybe I should start a load of laundry? I’ll hand-wash some sweaters, then reorganize my closet? Sort through my bills? Clean out my cachet of half-used beauty products? Reduce my collection of old sneakers? Bake a loaf of bread? Launder sheets? Look for hiking boots on the internet? Screw it all and sit in the sauna? Yes, that.

Saturday, Dose 7: I had a wet dream, meaning I dreamt I wet the bed. I woke up, convinced that a wetting had occurred, and was relieved that I hadn’t actually relieved. Could the Olive Energize serum be causing this fitful sleep? I thought about counteracting it with the Rescue Sleep serum, which promises “natural relief of occasional sleeplessness caused by stress and repetitive thoughts.” But then I’d be on a holistic rollercoaster of uppers and downers. There’s only one thing to do: Toss the remaining dose of Olive Energize in the trash, and face life without the flower essence edge.

Posted in Existence.

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Artichokes

…A leaf for everyone, a meal for no one… My favorite search engine queries. Phrasal communication – yippee. Easy day. Thinking, verbs not required.

INTERROGATIVE

can i keep ants alive in the refrigerator

can allergies cause bloating and difficulties in breathing

in what popular disney song is the character referred to as bouncy trouncy and flouncy

what is the difference between all mascaras

“how to cook brussels sprouts”

how to become a jagerette

how to pronounce kegel

queen elizabeth first decreed which bird should be eaten at christmas

weirdest activity you consider fun in the united states

SMUT

nude mrs.santa photos

plump white ass cellulite

teenager amy in bedroom

penis new year

hunky men in kilts

green makes girls horny

CELEBRITIES

isabella rossellini breasts symmetrical

brad pitt offensive body odor

britney spears flashes-crotches

“elliptical machine” “denise richards”

tom brady, balding

ws merwin, throat

does ivanka trump smoke

mares eat oats leland palmer

porphyria and socrates

QUOTATION

“hated christmas songs”

“she’d sit on me”

“chinese foot binding” video clip

accidentally husband wife friend hottub “sit on”

time for avocado to reach “green” state

“armani code” techno commercial song -scandalous

womans body found on “world’s end hingham”

“meredith green” kazakhstan

sniffing huffing “hand sanitizers”

philadelphia eagles “green appetizer” recipes

PERQUISITE

perhaps fritalian

beating up cheaters

agrestic t-shirts

santa and semi and rudolph and highway and christmas song

neighborhood degraded by portable basketball

kegel exercises scheme figures for men

rocky balboa workout for spin class

disease of urinette

sperm banks in norristown

ass odor solutions

worlds tallest aerobic instructor

pyschiatric condition for being oblivious

Posted in Miscellany.

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Let’s Re-accomplish Victory

Tonight George W. Bush will unveil his latest strategy for re-accomplishing the mission in Iraq. The mission was originally accomplished in 2003, when Bush announced that major combat operations in Iraq had ended in “victory,” but some unresolved issues – mainly societal chaos – still linger. [It’s called Doublethink, people. You’ve had 6 years to get hip to it.]

The revised Iraq strategy is expected to include a “surge” of 20,000 troops, including 6 National Guard brigades, which will leave America’s homeland defenses in the hands of the National Park Service, the Boy Scouts, and whatever armed citizen militias step up to the plate when the 3.25 million-strong Chinese People’s Liberation Army comes rolling in.

Experts predict that the war in Iraq will be the glaring rubric of Bush’s disgraced legacy, supplemented by the following follies:

* International disdain. Bush’s pig-headed policy of unilateralism has made him the most ill-received American President ever. Remember when Bush Senior threw up in the Japanese Prime Minister’s lap? GWB has been vomiting in the world’s lap for the past six years.

* Budget Deficit. We all know a person whose out-of-control spending – whether on housing, vacations, clothes, a war to foist democracy on an unwilling populace – shows total disregard for their budget. What a reckless idiot, we think. But no one goes as far as GWB, who purposely reduced America’s take-home pay in order to please the bosses. Bush’s fiscally-unsound tax cuts have broke America.

* Dismal domestic performance. Bush catered to conservatives, and not even to their complete satisfaction; America’s still got a fag problem. As proof of his ‘compassionate’ nature, Bush repeatedly cites his support of the “No child left behind unless they’re stranded in the Superdome” Act. And as for Homeland Security, seriously: Why is Bush’s reaction to 9/11 considered a strength? His administration allowed the attack to happen.

* Catastrophic environmental ‘not-my-problems’. Good news! The bears in the Moscow Zoo have gotten over their warm-weather-induced insomia and have begun to hibernate. More good news: NOAA, the federal weather agency, has acknowledged that human emission of heat-trapping gases is changing the weather. The funny thing is, these government scientists are even slower than Bush, who said in 2005: “I recognize that the surface of the Earth is warmer and that an increase in greenhouse gases caused by humans is contributing to the problem,” which means he’s not ignorant to global warming… he just doesn’t give a shit.

In short, even if the Iraq situation is miraculously salvaged so that the violence stops and a semblance of normalcy occurs, Bush’s legacy looks bleak. Planning for Bush’s Presidential Library has begun, and Southern Methodist University will be the likely site. Although some SMU faculty is opposed, who can deny the fittingness of Bush’s papers, records, and possibly even his corpse residing at a private, vaguely religious school nicknamed ‘Southern Millionaire’s University,’ known for its passion for Greek life and athletics, and mediocre academics? Not only do I applaud the choice, I will personally donate a copy of My Pet Goat to the Bush collection.

Posted in In the News.

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Great Moments in Personal Hygiene

After reaping a bonanza of new products from holiday gift-giving with which to sanitize, hydrate, exfoliate, deodorize, clarify, repair, ameliorate, penetrate, and generally beautify her external anatomy, our Heroine, dazzled by the array of bottles on her bathroom vanity and blinded by fresh steam from her shower, seizes a vial of moisturizer to daub on her rawly-shaven legs, after which she perceives a dull stinging that crescendos into searing distress, upon which it is discovered that the moisturizer is actually a non-organic thickening hair serum that is clotting her leg’s blood vessels so that the ivory white skin erupts into a rash of thrombus.

She bites her lip, bravely endures.

Posted in Existence.

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We are the Champions

One of Kerry Healey’s last acts as Massachusetts Lieutenant Governor was to officially declare me a champion, which is pretty sweet of her, considering I once officially declared her a bitch. Yes, the entire town of Natick can boost of being legislated champions, now that the State acknowledges our slogan “Home of Champions”, coined when Natick’s firefighters apparently won the 1891 National Hook and Ladder competition. (I can’t find any substantiating evidence that there was such a competition, let alone that Natick firemen were the champions, but since no other town has claimed they won the 1891 National Hook and Ladder competition…)

The same ‘champion nickname’ bill also recognizes Brockton as the ‘City of Champions’… a most charitable designation. Brockton has masqueraded as champions for the past 50 years, refusing to bow to Natick’s prior claim on the moniker. Brockton feels that they are a city of champions because of two boxers, Rocky Marciano and ‘Marvelous’ Marvin Hagler. I’m sorry, but rearing two men who were notable for their ability to punch another human being unconscious hardly qualifies the whole town as champions.

The pride in our 1891 fire company’s exploits has not diminished with time or obsolescence, because champions are not born, they are inspired by the traditions of their community to triumph. Here’s enduring proof that Natick’s nickname ‘Home of Champions’ is no mere political patronage:

* Champion shoppers: The glorious Natick Mall was the first indoor mall in the Boston area, opening in 1966. The mall is currently undergoing expansion plans that will make it the 12th largest mall in the country. Those who would refute this feat as a consequence of Natick being the retail dumping ground of NIMBY richies in Wellesley and Newton should be reminded that a little-known prerequisite to being a champion is living within walking distance to a Neiman Marcus and Nordstroms.

* Champion demographic curio: Natick is the center of population in Massachusetts, a feat achieved by no other town in the entire state.

* Champion corporate flunkies: Natick is prime land for farms… cubicle farms, that is. As evidenced by the number of world-renown companies that are headquartered in Natick – BJ’s Wholesale, Cognex, MathWorks, Boston Scientific – our educated, obedient workforce wins a blue ribbon.

* Champion cobblers: Some of the greatest people ever have lived in Natick – Harriet Beecher Stowe, Doug Flutie, John O’Hurley (Peterman in Seinfeld), Rob Patterson (current guitarist for Korn)… Perhaps the most illustrious was Henry Wilson, the ‘Natick Cobbler’ who became US Vice President under Ulysses S. Grant. From cobbler to Vice President – he must have made some pretty great shoes.

Posted in Massachusetts.

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Headless Steel

I don’t get excited by sculpture too often. I can feel detached awe for the technical skills required to mold metals, alloy, stone, and wood, but it is rare that I relate to a sculpture or gain a sense of an artist rather than an artisan.

Of all the sculptures at the DeCordova Museum and Sculpture Park in Lincoln, MA, Nina Levy’s HeadLong, as pictured on the right and officially here was a stand-out favorite.

Initially, I was occupied by how the naked figure sort of resembled me. I mean, not to make anyone uncomfortable, but if I was nude and made of steel, I’d look sort of like this.

I didn’t see the removed head, which is disproportionate to the comely body, as a “challenge [to] traditional notions of beauty associated with the female form,” as the accompanying text suggests. No, instead I was reminded of times in my life when I was regarded as a female body and not expected to think, feel or speak. I thought of the sculpture as naked, not nude. I wanted to hug her, to take her home and feed her soup, to offer her a sweater.

Posted in Massachusetts.

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Hay Day

66 degrees in Massachusetts on January 6. If it had to be a day so freakishly warm as to kindle niggling unease about Mother Nature’s sanity, I’m glad it was a Saturday.

We walked on crowded trails in the Noanet Woodlands, laughing about how just last week we literally froze our faces off in Maine. We also plotted to pillage the inevitable “Going Out of Business” sales that will be plaguing New England ski shops this spring. I loved watching the horses graze on the farm that adjoins the reservation, also reveling in the weather’s aberrance.

He is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts. – William Shakespeare, Henry V

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