Toilet Time for Tiny Town

Planet of the Apes Party Fun Time

2011-12-16T19:50:00.001-05:00

I'd buy that for a dollar

2011-12-16T12:57:00.004-05:00

I love Robocop... like, a lot. I was looking for something about the new Robocop movie slated to come out in 2012, and instead I stumbled on a bunch of other Robocop videos. These are great.

Kurtwood Smith's ground breaking performance, remixed:

These are two spots from across the Pacific using Robocop to shill fried chicken and noodles:

And, of course:

Videos!

2011-12-14T12:22:00.003-05:00

Hey guys, I've got some videos I've done over the last few months that I thought I'd put up on the old blog. I shot and directed the first, directed the second, wrote and acted in the third, and produced the entirety of the latter. Let's take a look!

Matt Koff in "Love Boat Promo Outtakes (1978)

Sir Kensington's Theater: Shock & Acceptance

Hustlas: Episode One

Three Minutes in Turkey

10 need to know tips for business management

2011-12-12T09:00:00.003-05:00

1. When on a conference call or in a meeting with clients. Make sure to talk louder than them, and over them. Don't stop just because the client, who is paying you, keeps trying to say something.

2. When you decide to screw an employee out of something you owe them, make sure to pretend the reason it happened is because you can't figure out your email, or how the internet works. That makes you seem less evil, and 100% more incompetent.

3. Make sure your lies are super transparent, so that the person you're lying to is good and insulted at your low estimation of their intelligence.

4. Whatever business it is you're leading, don't learn anything about it. Make sure you know the least possible information regarding the ins and outs of your company. That information is for the little people.

5. This pairs with #4, but you need to micromanage all of the little people. You may not know what they're supposed to be doing, but don't let that stop you from telling them how to do it. Make sure to throw in technical words you heard them say.

6. If you've failed in your position as team leader, make sure to let everyone below you, who will now be directly impacted with layoffs and pay cuts, know that it's not your fault, and that you're ALL victims. That way they'll know that you're in it with them, and that when they lose their job, and you go home to your stable income, you're practically brothers in arms.

7. Do not let people below you voice opinions or ideas in meetings with clients. Clients need to know that your business revolves around you, and no one else. They should feel confident that you've hired lacky yes-men incapable of independent thought.

8. If you're starting a business, make sure to spend a lot of money on the appearance of the business, and cut costs on the things necessary to operations... unless those things make the business look shiny.

9. DO NOT DO MARKET RESEARCH. Market research is a waste of time and money. You know your business, and what you're hoping to accomplish with it, better than anybody else. Business is like a swimming pool, if you think there's water in there, jump.

10. You are always right... Always. Don't ever let anybody, your employees, the IRS or your dad tell you otherwise.

It's Christmas time in the city

2011-12-09T12:52:00.001-05:00

I know you've all been wondering what to get me this year. Well, look no further.

I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it.
Please gimme gimme gimme.
I've been ever so good this year.

Rick Perry: Confused

2011-12-08T12:20:00.000-05:00

Rick Perry put out a video recently, which I'm sure you've all seen. If you haven't, take a moment to watch him complain about gays serving in the military while our poor children are forced to hide their Christianity from the world during Christmas.

What I like about Perry's video, is how he shows so much strength in fabricating "liberal attacks on our religious heritage".

Now, I don't know what Texas is like around this time of year, but you can't go one fucking block in New York, the gay/liberal/Jew capital of the Northeast, without seeing some sign of Christmas. I certainly haven't heard about any kristallnacht against stores displaying Christmas themes, like Best Buy, Urban Outfitters, or the GAP. Also, so far, the enormous Christmas tree at Rockerfeller Center hasn't been burned down.

Thankfully, some of the fine folks over at Second City came up with a retort video. I would donate all of my money to get this on the air.

Pancakes

2011-12-08T11:36:00.004-05:00

First off, this rap is amazing. It's fast, it's well versed, and amazingly, it's coordinated with what he's actually doing.

Secondly, this guy is with Rhymesayers, which really needs to start getting more attention outside of the midwest. Rhymesayers has too many great artists to be ignored.

Also, fuck Chris Brown.

Will someone please make this?

2011-12-05T13:06:00.004-05:00

I came across this a couple days ago when I was looking for a video featuring the main theme music from Conan the Barbarian. You know how it is, close to bedtime and all you really want is to get super pumped listening to "Anvil of Crom". Anyhoo, I stumbled on a video titled "Conan the Barbarian: The Musical" and it was really good. Like, it's funny... but I'd also pay money to see this on Broadway.

The thing is, there are a lot of really crappy musicals based on movies. I'm not going to name any names, but there are a lot. That's sort of Broadway's thing these days, because they're afraid, like Hollywood, of new ideas that aren't pre-packaged. And generally I'm against the idea of regurgitating old media to create new, redundant media. BUT, how fucking amazing would Conan The Barbarian be on Broadway?

HOW ABOUT THIS AMAZING:

And when you're done making millions off of Conan The Musical, you can follow up with making David Bowie's musical based on 1984, Diamond Dogs. You can thank me by paying me 5% of all profits on both pieces. Thanks.

To have a good time

2011-11-29T14:17:00.002-05:00

Maybe it's that I've been waxing nostalgic for the YMCA summer camp I attended in 1986, and where I first heard this song, or maybe it's that I think sex is disgusting and sinful. Either way, I've got this on steady rotation this week.

Jermaine Stewart - We Don't Have To Take Our... by jpdc11

Weird to think Jermaine Stewart was 29 when this song dropped. He sounds like he's 17.

Curahee!!!

2011-04-11T18:23:00.002-04:00

Guys, I don't know about you, but World War II history is the best. Am I right? We're all on board together that there's no finer way to spend a Friday night then reading Antony Beevor's "The Fall of Berlin"? Good.

So, if you've read a lot of World War II history, you'll hear about how this unit was the best, or this division, or this sniper. Everyone wants to be the #1 WWII person/group! Calm down, everyone was a winner. I think that we can safely say, as regards who was coolest, that the airborne was the coolest. Those guys are just super fucking cool. They jumped out of planes straight in to some combat. They didn't even wait. This is the entire instruction manual for new recruits at Camp Clairborne:

1. Jump out of a mother fucking plane
2. Pull that rip cord, idiot.
3. Land.
4. Kill everybody

That's it. That's the only training they got. Insane. I can think of nothing in this world more terrifying than jumping out of a plane at one in the morning only to drop straight down directly into combat. That is some seriously scary shit. All of the accounts I've read talk about how once you jump it's less scary, because the fear is really all in not knowing what's going to happen, as opposed to being afraid of what is happening. But I know me, and if someone gave me a gun and asked me to jump out of a plane to be shot at, I would say "no thank you". I don't want my trousers covered in wee wee.

But my friend Rachel didn't give me a gun and ask me to do all of that. All she asked is if I would jump out of a plane for her birthday, and I stupidly said yes. The way I figure it, if all of these men before me could jump out of plane and into combat, and do it for their country, then it wouldn't say much good about me if I couldn't jump out of a plane onto the (relatively) safe fields of New Jersey.

So... I'm going to go jump out of a plane.

Goodbye, Cruel Fake-World

2011-04-01T08:37:00.002-04:00

Hey Kids,

Remember this shit? This was a blog I had. Some people probably still get emails everytime I write in it, which in the last year was about once, and in the last three years maybe two more times.

Well guess what? I quit playing video games for the entire month of April. No more senseless violence. No more moral rudderlessness. Yup, all of the wonderful e-debauchery must stop, at least for now, so that I can focus on work and projects. And with that focus I though, what better way to hone some of my energies than with my good, dear old friend, Toilet Time for Tiny Town.

So expect to see some new posts coming up. Maybe a hilarious movie review that will continue for years to create random vitriol on the part of internet readers around the world, or a terribly conceived political "humor" piece from a man thoroughly unqualified to write one. WHO KNOWS? Certainly not this guy (points thumbs back at self)... I can barely read.

John

New ad

2011-01-17T10:45:00.002-05:00

Pilsner Urquell's new ad campaign. Think of it as Pilsner Urkel.

Fuck you Google robot

2007-12-19T00:54:00.001-05:00

Stupid son of a bitch... I'll kill you robot. You mark my words, when I find out where you are, which I assume is somewhere in California, because that's where all your type live, I'm gonna hack you apart with an axe... or run a magnet over your brain.

Seriously... Why is it that I, the real John Kingman, come in after "Sir" John Kingman, a science fiction story about a fictional John Kingman, and a bunch of dead John Kingmans? Don't you understand how much I crave attention? I ruin parties because I need to be the center of everyone's focus. One two three all eyes on me! That's what I'm talking about.

So, come on... man... robot. Give it to me. Give me that number one Google spot. I need that shit so bad I can taste it. I'll do anything. I'll suck your robot dick.

Democracy in action!!!

2007-11-05T12:05:00.000-05:00

On Saturday night, while most of us American's were getting drunk and trying to find somebody desperate enough to share a bed with us, Pakistan's "President" Gen. Pervez Musharraf, decided that the only way to a fair and balanced democracy was to declare a state of emergancy in Pakistan, suspend the constitution, fire the supreme court and close or curb non state run broadcasts of TV and radio.

I for one applaud him. In America, there are too many civil liberties being taken. I mean, how many times do I have to watch some idiot on the TV box bad mouth the administration, put forward their own political agendas or use the phrase "Va-Jay-Jay"? I think this country could use a nice injection of harsh and oppressive dictatorship.

I mean, who wouldn't like to see some of these know it all lawyers being beaten in the streets? I for one would, as would the entire staff of Toilet Time for Tiny Town. In fact, Mr. Bush, should you choose to suspend Habeas Corpus, shut down the liberal media and send troops into the cities to maintain law and order, my staff and I would very much like to be in charge of beating dissidents in New York... We've put large sticks into our budget for fiscal '07 already.

(The guy in the motorcycle helmet was just "passing by")

We at Toilet Time for Tiny Town applaud Gen. Pervez Musharraf for his foresight and diligence in keeping the little people in the masses from making silly decisions, like free elections, or opposing a man who the people "gave" power in a coup he led back in '99.

Also, we'd like to thank the Bush Administration for their tireless efforts to buoy Mr. Gen. Musharraf's government over the past few years. If not for his tireless efforts in the fight against terrorism, we might be losing the war, instead of winning it... like we are now. God bless America, and God bless Pakistan... as long as they continue to be so brave.

I shot this

2007-02-17T06:24:00.001-05:00

I shot this... (For Jon Friedman of the Rejection Show)

And I shot and edited this... (For Mark and Rob of the Mark & Rob Show)

This also... (For Sara Schaefer for the Super Awesome 10 show)

And lastly this... (For Jon Daly and Brett Gelman for Channel 102)

I did not shoot this...

Been a long time since I rapped at ya'

2007-02-16T15:54:00.000-05:00

Well hello there,

I guess you've all been wondering, what happened to Toilet Time for Tiny Town? "Where will I turn for news now? The economist?!?" Fear not gentle reader, I won't subject you to that humility. Yes... Toilet Time for Tiny Town is back.

First and foremost in the news, my name is now over the halfway mark on it's trip up page two of Google's "John Kingman" search. That's right, you only have to sift through one page and a half of another to find me, referenced to this fine e-publication. What does that mean in the grand scheme? I am finally somebody.

Our second topic of conversation is the miserably small showing in the contest I started back in November to design a TTFTT logo. No one, not one person, submitted an idea. Why? We did some careful market research, fearing that no one read this blog, and found that not to be the case. Our research instead found a very unsettling aspect to our demographic. You, the reader, are lazy... and incompetant. Now, we could try and change our content to attract a smarter, better looking reader, but we found out that we too are lazy, and disinterested in fixing this matter.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, we would like to address those of you that have been following the up and coming Colonel Bastard. Our gossipy word-on-the-street correspondant found out that the Colonel will is currently working on two new songs, and videos to go along with them. Most exciting in this is that one of the tracks will feature a long time associate of Colonel Bastard's, Monzy of the Stanford crew.

We are looking forward to hearing and seeing this with baited breath.

So hopefully we'll be dropping some more entries soon... peace out assholes.

The videos are finally up!!!

2007-01-05T14:50:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, we here at Toilet Time for Tiny Town try and stay abreast (Hah!! Breast!) of current musical acts. We came across this particular rapper when we were in a Duane Reade and overheard him becoming disgruntled with an employee when they told him there was a coupon limit on M&Ms party bags. He kept screaming "Y'all don't know me! I'm Colonel Fucking Bastard B!!" We had no idea what he was talking about, so we googled "Colonel Fucking Bastard" and found some really disturbing pictures. Then one of the interns suggested we check under just "Colonel Bastard". We did that but mostly we found stuff about some band from England.

After a lot of dilligence we found what we were looking for, Colonel Bastard the rapper. Featured twice in the lovely stage show "video gaga" hosted by our dear friend Sara Schaefer, Colonel Bastard brings delightfully inane tracks about Hot Dogs and Heart Break. Featuring the acting talents of Dan McCoy, Charlie Sanders, Jon Kern and Sara herself, the videos are so hot the computer we watched them on burned it's foot print in to the desk. Check these out:

If you had trouble viewing it you can go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAS8hHJK_zo
And if you didn't like that one, here's another:

This too can be viewed through the URL: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Ip15g1SrwY

You may think to yourself "These videos are crap". Well if that's the case please send your home address to our mailing list along with details about how to get into your home, when you'll be there and what your darkest fear is... we'll be sure to stop by! Otherwise, turn up the subwoofer on your nerdy gaming computer and let the beat bump you... bump you hard.

My second Fisher Price Post

2006-12-19T11:43:00.000-05:00

So it's been nearly a year since I wrote the first Toilet Time for Tiny Town post, though the blog had a different name at the time. It's been a wild year for me, and as many of you know, a lot has taken place. Now I could use this opportunity to do a year in review re-cap, but TTFTT has a no true stories about the Editor's personal life policy, so instead of going through all the things that happened to me personally and have some depth, I'll refer to some random shit.

Remember when I had that staple remover that I drew googly eyes on? Somebody stole it from my desk. Who steals a staple remover?!? Commies, that's who.

One morning I woke up and it looked like it was raining outside. Turned out to be the largest fire in NY since 9/11. I was late to work because I kept walking towards the fire, like a moth to flame, so that I could get a better picture of it. It seemed so close, but like a rainbow, it was actually very far away... and marked a leprechaun's pot of gold... a leprechaun with pyromania.

On the way to a party I was walking down Berry St. and saw a girl stumble out of the record shop on Metropolitan, turn the corner and fall over puking. I thought to myself "I should help her" but it was 7:30 and anyone that gets that drunk by 7:30 doesn't deserve the help. People need to hit rock bottom before they can come back up.

Last New Years I tried to climb the two stories to get to the bedroom in Philadelphia where a bunch of my fellow party goers were singing songs. I thought it would be funny to pop my head in the window and make some faces. I made it a story and a half before I noticed a bunch of power lines blocking my ascent. Good thing I saw those.

I sang no Karaoke this year. Not one verse. You know why? I hate Karaoke.

During video gaga shows I pissed my pants, had a nose bleed, stabbed Dan McCoy to death, watched Dujeous do a live performance, met the Walkmen, called Sara the "C" word on more than one occasion, cried and tried desperately to impart a little bit of wisdom in an otherwise vapid show. But you know what really made my time with the show great? The slutty groupies.

Sometimes when you think about your life you can lose focus on the entirety because you're so caught up in the present situation. Charlie and I go to the Roebling tea Room a lot and reflect on this. I mean, there are times when I think "Kingman, what have you really done with your life? You're 27, single, working jobs you're over qualified for and disinterested in to boot. What have you really accomplished?" Well to myself I can only say this "Why don't you shut the fuck up you whiney little baby. You're John "Fucking" Kingman, a.k.a. Colonel Bastard, a.k.a. Margaret Thatcher."

Of course, I also made Toilet Time for Tiny Town what it is. A blog I write in when I'm bored at work.

Happy Holidays!!!

Overhaul for TTFTT

2006-12-08T16:02:00.000-05:00

You may notice that the Toilet Time for Tiny Town you know and love has changed a bit... well, that's because it has. Good work, your powers of perception are incredible. Really, we're very proud of you for being able to observe the obvious. What's next for TTFTT now that we're all shiny and new? Well the contest is still under way and we've been getting some good submissions, but we're not there yet. The winner will be chosen on January first to ring in the New Year. So keep sending in your pictures and we'll keep making fun of them in the editing room!

-The staff of Toilet Time for Tiny Town

Contest time!!!

2006-12-06T16:06:00.000-05:00

Hey all,

We here at Toilet Time for Tiny Town are proud to announce the first TTFTT contest!!! For our first contest we are having a competition for the best Toilet Time for Tiny Town logo. Why are we doing this? Well, we want to make t-shirts and other paraphernalia. Our design department has been working tirelessly on various ideas, but no one at the top liked them. So, without further adieu, we launch the competition.

The details are as follows: The submission must be in a JPEG format, hand drawn pictures or wood cuts are not accepted, unless they've been photographed and sent in JPEG format. The image should be made to stand alone on a t-shirt. The design should not contain our name, as we would like to be able to put that on the back or front of the shirt, whichever side the logo isn't on.

The theme is this: What does Toilet Time for Tiny Town mean to you? What's your take on the title? We're not talking about the actual content of our site, but only what the name implies in your mind.

The prize: The winner of the contest will receive a free t-shirt with their design prominently displayed. In future contests these t-shirts will be given as prizes.

Send all submissions to toilettimefortinytown@gmail.com

MAC in Black

2006-11-30T11:19:00.000-05:00

Clinique is going through some changes. It's finding hair where there hadn't been hair before, it's voice is changing and it's having painful growth spurts. Much like most adolescents it's trying to shed off some of the trappings of it's childhood. So, much like Puff the Magic Dragon, The Velveteen Rabbit, and the time when Christopher Robin robbed Pooh to re-sell his honey for Meth, I am being cast aside from the newly nearly adult Clinique. I have been let go.

Don't fret though. This doesn't mean that Toilet Time for Tiny Town is loosing the house we grew up in, and we'll still be able to eat... we're just being forced to move on from a job that, face facts, we never really thought of as a career.

Now, does this mean we're moving into a career? Of course not. Careers are for proactive people, not me. In a fit of proactivity though, I wrote my friend Zoe at MAC to tell her of my misfortune and see if there were any openings at MAC, or if she knew about any cool jobs in general. I wrote "Oh crap, oh crap, I lost my job. I can't breathe.. my shirt neck is too tight, I can't breathe. I think I'm having a heart attack!" to which she replied "We have a job here that would be perfect for you, I'm so excited that you might come back!" Zoe is really nice, but a terrible liar.

Most of you don't know that I started out my meteoric rise to power at MAC two and a half years ago. Now, while Zoe has fond memories of me being there, it's only because she's been systematically repressing the true memories. For instance, I typically started my days there with a pint of Gin mixed with Sprite. By noon I'd be so out of it I'd think Zoe was my ex-girlfriend Lisa and I'd start calling her a whore for sleeping with my friend Adam. From 2pm onwards I'd nap, and then try and finish my work when I woke up, but still leave at five on the dot.

But the position Zoe was telling me about sounds pretty great. I mean sure, there's a lot of administrative stuff I'd be doing, and some database work and what not, but I'd also be producing/directing the training videos for MAC... and that's right up my alley. I could be the next Scorsese of industrial film. When the Dusties happen I could be winning awards!

So my last day at Clinique is December 20th. I'm sure there's a crazy party in the works, and I firmly expect all the hot girls who work here to tell me about their long standing secret crushes on me. I also expect gifts... expensive gifts. If this doesn't happen you damn well better believe there'll be hell to pay.

To my friends and colleagues at Clinique... the one person who reads the blog from here... thank you for making the last year and a half an enjoyable one, even if that enjoyment had nothing to do with the work involved.

Happy Turkey Day Y'all

2006-11-22T11:59:00.000-05:00

Toilet Time for Tiny Town will be taking a short break for the Holiday, so make sure to spend some time with friends and family. And remember, if you were thinking about killing yourself, now's the time to do it!!! Holidays have the highest instances of suicide which makes tomorrow the perfect time to slit your wrists, hang yourself, put a bullet in your noggin or overdose. Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,

The Staff of Toilet Time for Tiny Town

Shakespeare it's not

2006-11-21T12:00:00.000-05:00

Last night I went to see a screening of the new film "Curse of the Golden Flower" by the guy that did "House of a Thousand Daggers". I didn't see "House of a Thousand Daggers" but I've heard good things about it. Well I'm happy to report that "Curse of the Golden Flower" was an epic... and epic piece of crap.

The movie is supposedly part of the "Gung-Fu" genre. As best as I can tell that means super human Kung-Fu in film. There was depressingly little actual Gung-Fu in the movie though, and most of the fighting that did take place was CGI battles where thousands of soldiers stood in place and waved their swords around. There was one fight in the first scene, and the next didn't happen until about a half hour later, at which point I'd soiled myself out of boredom. If it hadn't been for my companion at the film I might have killed myself, but thankfully I was talked down.

The film centers around a royal family. I get the impression that this movie takes place pre-unification of China, though there's nothing in it that's historically accurate enough to give a sense of the era, past the fact that it's clearly middle ages... in China. The king, Chow Yun-Fat, is preparing for the Chrysanthamum festival (Chrysanthamums are GOLDEN FLOWERS!!! BUM BUM BUM) and his second eldest son, played by Jay Chou, has just returned from the frontier. Within no time at all the intrigue begins. Family member upon family member is involved in various schemes to get at other family members... namely the King or Queen, played by Li Gong. I'm not going to spoil anything, because that's not what Toilet Time for Tiny Town is about, but let's just say that the intrigue was about as intriguing as watching Days of Our Lives... which is to say not at all.

The thing is, most of the plot is done through a characters exposition. For instance, and this isn't an actual scene from the movie, it would play something like this:

The King: Why have you come here?

The Assassin: Well, the thing is. Ten years ago I was just a kid growing up in the streets of Quiang Xiou. You drove your chariot by me and hit a puddle as you were passing, soaking me to the bone. You looked directly at me and laughed, and I knew then you were a cruel man. Later that day I fell ill, because I was soaking wet and it was cold outside. The illness left me crippled for most of my childhood and it wasn't until I learned Kung-Fu that I fully recovered my self. Also, you slept with my Mom, who was one of your servants at the time, so you're actually my Dad. Lastly, just so you know, when you started a war with the Eastern provinces, it was really I who orchestrated the attempt on your life that precipitated the war, and I only did it in the hopes that the war would leave your forces weakened and far from the city, so that I could send my own army of assassins against you... which I have.

BORING. The first rule of script writing is that you're supposed to show plot, not tell it. If you have to have characters explaining why things are happening in the movie it's because you suck as a script writer. By the time the movie was wrapping up, and at two hours that was a long time, I was laughing at nearly anything that happened because it was all so ridiculous. I couldn't wait for the movie to end... my butt hurt from the uncomfortable movie seats, my brain hurt from the wealth of useless information the characters were throwing out there, and my eyes hurt from watching battle scenes where hordes of soldiers attacked other hordes of soldierrs to no particular accomplishment.

Instead of watching this movie and seeing if you agree with me, I'm instead suggesting that you Netflix or rent the far Superior movie "Emperor and the Assasin" which is an infinitely greater movie, if not a Gung-Fu movie, and has an epic storyline filled with characters that are three dimensional, crazy battle scenes with no CGI, and stunning scenery that is all historically accurate and true to the last detail. Or pay 10.50 to see "Curse of the Golden Flower"... but if you do I'm not going to talk to you anymore... idiot.

Brooklyn Style Pizza

2006-11-09T12:56:00.000-05:00

Some of you who watch the TV box may have seen a little ad for something Domino's is calling the "Brooklyn" style pizza. It features ridiculously large pieces of pepperoni, and asks you to fold the pizza in half when eating it. Well let me tell you something... that ain't no Brooklyn style pizza.

The only thing they got right is the folding. Some people prefer to gently fold, so that the slice forms a smile shape at the crust, whereas others (your's truly included) prefer to fold it all the way so that I can shove huge bites into my hungry, soon to be scalded, mouth. So in as much as this is the correct way to eat pizza in Brooklyn, I applaud Domino's for their efforts to pass culture along.

As to the huge pepperoni... What the fuck were they thinking? What? In Brooklyn our pepperoni is so large? I have never in my life seen a pizza with pepperoni that size, not in Brooklyn, not in Texas. They should have called it the Texas style pizza. In Texas they have something called Texas toast. You know what it is?

Huge toast. That's it... that's what makes it Texas toast. That would make sense. Brooklyn style?!? Nothing doing.

Here's what Brooklyn style pizza should be, broken down by neighborhood.

Williamsburg style pizza: You order your pizza from some hipster who keeps putting you on hold because he/she's talking to a friend who stopped by the store. When your pizza does arrive you tip the hipster who delivered it and they look at your tip like "this is no where near enough for the baggy of coke I wanted to buy".

Bushwick style pizza: You order your pizza and when you open the door to get it from the delivery guy, they point a gun at your head and take your wallet... and they don't even have the decency to let you keep the decoy pizza. Then the cops show up and tell you they'll look into it... You never hear from them again.

Gowanus style pizza: The Domino's closes somewhere between the time you ordered the pizza and the time it should have been finished. The Domino's is replaced by a GAP, Urban Outfitters or Brooklyn Industries.

So to all the marketing execs at Domino's: Take your heads out of your gigantic pizza fed asses and come up with something that makes sense. How about the Health Care Burden style pizza. It's just like a regular Domino's pizza, but without all the lies.

House Cleaning

2006-11-07T10:39:00.002-05:00

So I've decided to take a little time to address those of you that read my little blog... because usually I'm writing only for the sake of myself. I've got a few things to go through, so sit back and relax.

One: I've decided to start a mailing list. That's right! Everytime I post a new entry you can get an email telling you that I did that!!! All you have to do is write an email to

ToiletTimeForTinyTown@Gmail.com

and say "I want to be subscribed to your blog" and I'll put you on the list. What could be easier? Who knows, maybe I'll start having contests and shit, with prizes!

Two: In an effort to get the Google Robots to realize how important I am, I've found that I need links to my site. Otherwise that British jerk "Sir" John Kingman will continue his unwholesome reign over the Google list of John Kingmans. So please feel free to link to me, and I in return will link to you (provided I don't find the content of your site offensive).

Three: I'm so glad today is election day! If I had to watch one more slam ad from one ass to another ass both running for the same seat I swear I could have gone nuts. I mean, I want to watch commercials where fat middle aged men belittle their wives so they can watch football and eat pizza uninterrupted. I want to see super heroes do dances about having stomach upset and diarrhea. I don't want to hear how Tom Kean Jr. Supported Bush's war or how Menendez is linked to some huge corruption scandal. They both sound like dicks.

Bring back the where's the beef lady and let's get on with our lives.

All Hallows Eve and my possesion

2006-10-31T14:20:00.000-05:00

Greetings folks,

Today, as you all should know, is Halloween! Boo! Are you scared? No? Fine. So, anyway, today is... BOO! Still not scared?!? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you robots?

So today is Halloween and this year the holiday has forced me to realize some things about myself. This year, instead of going out and partying like a mad man, I got the sniffles and stayed in watching my stories. With trick or treaters out on patrol tonight, instead of going to a bar and finding some drunken nurse/flower/vampiress I'm contemplating sitting in front of the window with a hose and dousing any of the little bastards that come near my home. I don't know how or when it happened, but my body was possessed by the spirit of an old timer. It's true. I didn't grasp it until Halloween rolled around either.

Sure you say, maybe I'm just anti-Halloween. That doesn't necessarily mean that I've been possessed by a man called "Gramps" who died in 1954. Well let me further blow your minds by saying that since this possession took place I've been carrying butterscotch candies in my pockets... The pockets of my cardigan!!! I tried to join the AARP in a drunken stupor one night, and when I go to the Kellogg's diner I tip in change, and only 5%.

It's not all fun and games either. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking I have to pee, and then realizing I don't. I've been having a horrible sense of loss from my wife passing... except I was never married! And I've been having flashbacks to the Great War... but I never fought in it!!

Boo!!! Are you scared yet? Jesus Christ!! You goddamn kids with your Poltergeist movies, and your video arcade games! Nothing scares you anymore... no... you think you're all so damn brave. Try going over the top to run 100 yards of no man's land under heavy machine gun fire from every damn angle and your goddamn lungs are so full of mustard gas you're coughing up baseball sized pieces of soft tissue! That's scary... Boo!!!

Happy Halloween.

Mahmoud, is you crazy?!?

2006-10-20T11:12:00.000-04:00

Today I'm going to take time to use my position as head writer/editor of the massive soap box that is Toilet Time For Tiny Town and do a little geo political pontificating. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, President of Iran, is a fucking nut case. Seriously folks... I'm all about understanding different countries, cultures and people. I'm a progressive kind of guy. Hell I've even started plucking the uni-brow area. But there comes a time in a man's life when he has to draw a line in the sand... thousands of miles away from his enemy, and say "This line you will not cross". Well, I'm saying it to Mr. Ahmadinejad today. Mr. Ahmadinejad of Iran... you crazy.

For real dog. You crazy as flies on shit. Here you are all up in the international community saying "Iran wants nuclear power, and we want it for peaceful purposes". And that's cool dog, seriously, that's a cool thing. But then, when the UN Security council comes back and says maybe you shouldn't have nuclear power, since you probably don't want to use it for peaceful purposes, you end up sticking your crazy ass feet right in your goddamn mouth. Instead of agreeing to a dope ass proposal to get Uranium from Russia on the contingency you return the spent rods and submit to inspections, you open your crazy ass mouth and say some stupid, stupid shit.

First off, you need to chill on this Israel tip. No one on the block is calling you a simp. We all know you got beef with Israel. But seriously dude, calling them an ''imposed group of terrorists'' as regards the middle east and then threatening anyone who allies with them... that's stupid B. Israel isn't up in your grill, so get out of their's. No one's saying you gotta go over to Israel and have a fuckin' cook out or nothin' but let's be real for a sec... you ain't wipen' shit off the map... Not Israel, not the US, not even Iraq. And no one's going to let you get even close to making a bomb to do it so shut up. The Israelis blew up Saddam's reactor so I think it's a safe bet they'd do the same to yours.

Also, if you want the UN to let you have your reactor, and it is an issue of them letting you, maybe you shouldn't shoot your mouth off by saying that the UN is "illegitimate". They're legit bro... they're totally legit... In fact, some might say, too legit to quit.

So in conclusion Mr. Ahmadinejad, save the crazy rhetoric for us. Our president is much better at it, and can actually follow through on his insane statements.

White man's hope

2006-09-22T14:00:00.000-04:00

So I'm taking this opportunity to personally bash the upcoming movie "Last King of Scotland". Why you may ask?

This movie, "Last King of Scotland", is about Idi Amin the man who lead a military coup in Uganda during the 70's. Upon achieving the goal of taking over Uganda he promptly titled himself "His Excellency President for Life Field Marshal Al Hadji Dr. Idi Amin, VC, DSO, MC, King of Scotland Lord of All the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular" and then set out on a campaign of terror.

Administered by the State Research Bureau, a death squad with an odd name, Idi Amin oversaw the deaths and torture of 250,000 fellow country men, along with the forced deportation of 50,000 Asians residing in Uganda at the time of his coup. The movie will star Forest Whitaker as Amin, and Simon McBurney as Nigel Stone, a white doctor who didn't really exist.

Why does this piss me off to the point where I don't want you, the reader, to watch the movie? Because, it's a retarded thing that Hollywood does over and over. They say "This Idi Amin sure was a nasty guy!" and some other suit says "Yup, terrible. We should make a movie about what an awful guy he was."

Then some other suit interjects "Yeah, but nobody wants to watch a movie about black people in Africa... how can we tell this story and make it interesting?" And lastly, another suit says, "Let's put a white person in it to make people care!" And so another historical drama is ruined by some bullshit Hollywood idiots, or in this case an adaptation of a book that's potentially as stupid, in which all the horrors that Idi Amin committed are made into backdrops for the harrowing story of how a white guy got caught up with a bad black man, and how he escapes that crazy, mean old black man's vengeance.

I mean, who wants to see a movie that just shows how Idi Amin turned a popular revolt against his own people and showed himself to be just like every other dictator out there? Why would someone pay a good twelve dollars to see a story told from the perspective of a Ugandan who at first is happy Amin overthrew the corrupt Prime Minister Obote only to become disillusioned as his personal freedoms are removed and his friends, family and his own life are put in jeopardy?

Wouldn't we rather see something along the lines of "Seven Years in Tibet", the pale imitation of Scorsese's' "Kundun", in which the story of the Dalai Llama is told through the eyes of a white Brad Pitt? Isn't it better to address the issues facing young black youths in America by telling the story of a prim white teacher going to "the hood" like Michelle Pfiefer does in "Dangerous Minds"?

Seriously, what's next? The story of Huey Newton as told by a precocious white teen growing up in the hood played by Jonathan Lipnicki? How about Pol Pot's reign of terror in Cambodia seen through the eyes of Anne Hathoway, who accidentally got lost on her way to Burma?

It's a bunch of bullshit. If you want to tell the story of Idi Amin tell the story, use Forest Whitaker... stop adding white people to the mix.

I'm writing this from Rikers Island

2006-09-21T11:49:00.000-04:00

Well, as most of you know by now, last night... in a fit of anger... I did something bad to Dan McCoy. It's easy to point the finger at me and say "John, you were overreacting". You might be right, but I like to look at it like this: That dirty low down mother fucker took the bread out of my mouth. I'm supposed to do the music news. That's my fucking job, not some self styled "Comedian". I took that position seriously, and to be replaced by a comic stings more than a little.

But it goes deeper than that. Dan and I have a history of animosity going back to the Goldwater campaign and culminating (before last night that is) with the taping of Tanner '88.

Some say that Goldwater lost because he had weak standing with the American public, but in '64 when I was working the campaign I'd say Mr. Goldwater represented a shift back to America for Americans. Dan, on the other hand, saw Goldwater as a hawk, the kind of voice we needed in office to show the commies who was boss. I think it was Dan's inflamatory speaches he wrote for Mr. Goldwater that lost us the election. Below is a segment of one of those speeches:

"I accept your nomination with a deep sense of humility. I accept, too, the responsibility that goes with it, and I seek your continued help and your continued guidance. My fellow Republicans, our cause is too great for any man to feel worthy of it. Our task would be too great for any man, did he not have with him the heart and the hands of this great Republican Party, and I promise you tonight that every fiber of my being is consecrated to our cause; that nothing shall be lacking from the struggle that can be brought to it by enthusiasm, by devotion, and plain hard work. In this world no person, no party can guarantee anything, but what we can do and what we shall do is to deserve victory, and victory will be ours... us rich whites that is."

Dan is also notoriously racist.

By the time I was brought on to consult on Robert Altman's Tanner '88 I'd grown tired of the Republican party. Altman's leftist politics appealed to me, and I appreciated what he was doing with his satire series. It was upsetting to then see Dan McCoy, sitting in Robert Altman's chair, when I arrived on set. I remember taking Michael Murphy (Jack Tanner) aside and saying "what's that dick doing here?" and hearing, my heart dropping into my stomach, that Dan had been brought on to assist me in consultation. I think this too is why Tanner lost the election in the fictional series. I know Dan got a bug in Altman's ear, and I think he convinced Altman that the ultimate payoff for the show would be to have Tanner lose. Really though, I think McCoy just couldn't stand having a liberal, fictional or otherwise, win another election.

It was with great anger that I learned Sara Schaefer, the host and my co-producer on video gaga, had replaced me with Dan. Yes, it's true... I got a little nervous during our rap off last month and I pissed my pants. And yes it's true that my cocaine addiction has started to get the better of me, though saying I'm out of control is ridiculous. I could stop any time I wanted to. I just don't want to. But replacing me with Dan? That's an act that requires swift and brutal revenge. Dan McCoy is my nemisis and I can't even begin to tell you the feelings I was experiencing when I watched him walk on stage during my segment... MY SEGMENT! Yes, yes I can begin to tell you the feelings: Rage.

So I went up there to get my job back, and when that didn't look like it was going to happen I did what any sane and rational person in business would do: I eliminated the competition. Maybe it was wrong to stab Dan three times, but he lived. He's doing very well at Mt. Sinai and the doctors expect a full recovery by the end of 2007. So if that's being wrong, I don't want to be right. Rest up Dan... I'll be visiting you at the hospital real soon...

Hello there Google robot.

2006-09-18T15:29:00.000-04:00

Did you know that Google searches are powered by Google robots? My friend Dan, who interned with Google this summer, explained to me once that these robots browse the internet all day long, and then associate words with the sites they were on. For instance, if I wrote the word soup thousands of times on my blog, and then the robots read it, when you typed the word soup in a Google search this page would more than likely come up. Also, pictures that are labled with words will come up on Google image searches, such as cans of soup. That is why the proceeding "article" will contain almost nothing but references to me in a piece I call: John Kingman on John Kingman.

I recently sat on the couch in my apartment with none other than John Kingman to talk about life, love, Cold War History and humor. John Kingman, as many of you know, is the editor and head writer at Toilet Time for Tiny Town, as well as being a contributor on video gaga and the guy who never flushes the urinal at the Roebling Tea Room.

John Kingman: So John Kingman, thanks for meeting with me.
John Kingman: Not a problem, we are the same person after all.
John Kingman: Yes, we're both John Kingman
(laughter)
John Kingman: I heard recently that you've been getting involved in a book club. How's that going?
John Kingman: Great, really great. We started off reading the History of Love by that lady married to that other writer... you know?
John Kingman: Sure sure... that chick. I'm totally with you.
John Kingman: Awesome. It was a great book. The discussion that followed was also really interesting. Lot of talk about different aspects of the plot and characters. Now we're reading the Glass Key by the guy who wrote Maltese Falcon... which was a movie with Humphrey Bogart.
John Kingman: I saw that.
John Kingman: I know.
John Kingman: Speaking of books, you love Cold War history... why is that?
John Kingman: When I was a kid... well, let me quote the popular Minnesota MC, Slug, of Atmosphere, when I say I was "More afraid of nuclear war than bee stings". I was absolutely convinced that I was going to end up living in a post nuclear holocaust world.
John Kingman: Mmm.
John Kingman: As I grew older I sort of calmed down on that, though I still think it could happen. What I found though was that I'd become very interested in how the world had gotten to the point it had in the mid-eighties where everyone was convinced it was going to happen and it would only be a matter of years. I've read extensively on that subject since.
John Kingman: When you say extensively, you mean extensively for John Kingman.
John Kingman: Yes, I mean by John Kingman standards, which is like... an article in Time Magazine, and then a lot of heresay from other people. Did you know that the Soviets had flying saucers?
John Kingman: I heard that somewhere, yes. How's life?
John Kingman: Pretty good... Pretty good.
John Kingman: And love?
John Kingman: I could complain, but what would be the point?
John Kingman: I hear ya'. Well John, it was a pleasure.
John Kingman: The pleasure was mine Kingman, the pleasure was mine.

My 忍者 problem

2006-09-14T12:21:00.000-04:00

Well, as many of you have heard me comment before, nothing skeeves me out worse than 忍者s. Sure, I hate cockroaches, I think all New Yorkers do, and mice as well. 忍者s? I'd rather burn my apartment down than have to put up with them. So I admit I was freaked out last weekend when I woke up in the middle of the night, got up to get a glass of water and found one. As I opened the refrigerator door I felt a presence to my right, and sure enough, in the cupboard was a 忍者... eating my raisin bran.

I tried to catch him, but he was too quick. I threw out the raisin bran (I'm not eating 忍者 tainted raisin bran) and went back to fitful, night terror filled, sleep.

The next morning I decided that once was enough. You have to stop these things when they start, like when Sollozo tried to have Don Corleone killed, or when CBS started airing Two and a Half Men. I went to King's Pharmacy and bought a bunch of 忍者 glue traps.

The instructions said to place them in key 忍者 spots in my home, namely near food, food preparation, chests full of gold, or Shoguns that may have contracts for their death's. Since I have no Shoguns in my apartment, and my chest of gold is guarded by a Leprechaun, I placed one in the kitchen, and one next to the Xbox... just in case they tried to save over my Grand Theft Auto game.

I must say that knowing the traps were there made it much easier to sleep. One of the worst parts about having a 忍者 infestation is the way you hear them scaling the walls, scurrying down the hallways, and muttering oaths of allegiance in Japanese. The first few days had no pay off, and the traps were bare. But then, this morning, I found one on the trap in the kitchen.

Problematic was the fact that the 忍者 was still alive. When I catch a mouse on a glue trap I drown them, believing that's the most humane way to dispatch it. But how do I drown the 忍者? It's too heavy to drag down to the East river, and my bath tub isn't big enough to fit the 忍者 and the glue trap. I didn't want the 忍者 to die of starvation and I didn't have the heart to bash it to death with a hammer (just think about the mess!).

So I did the only thing I could think to do: Using a knife duct taped to my broom, I carefully cut the fabric away from the 忍者's right arm. I then told the 忍者 it could choose between starvation and the honorable way out, 切腹 (Seppuku, or stomach slicing). And can you believe it?!? The 忍者 tried to throw the knife at my head! Well this made me mad, so this time I was a little more forceful when I offered the 忍者 the choice between starvation and suicide. I said "listen here mister, I don't how they do things over in Japan, but this is my house and you'll obey my rules. Now, which is it? Starvation or suicide?" The little bastard, he said he'd rather die from starvation than dishonor himself by committing suicide, especially when he'd done nothing to dishonor himself yet and had no fatal wounds. He'd called my bluff.

So now I've got 忍者s all over my apartment. The money I'm shelling out for pizzas and Japanese food is killing my wallet, but I'm too timid to starve them,

and once they start breeding forget about stopping them without an expensive 忍者 exterminator.
So if anyone knows anybody looking for a room mate, I need to get out of my place. Also, if you're looking for an apartment, mine is opening up soon (hopefully). It's got a bit of a 忍者 problem, but nothing a karate master can't handle.

Crazy going slowly am I?

2006-09-08T15:25:00.000-04:00

I've found that my ability to entertain myself at work has diminished greatly over the last few months.

I mean, how many times can I take my own picture? How many times can I troll Craigslist missed connections? How long can I really hide in the bathroom? Will I not eventually get bored of writing blog entries just for my own entertainment? Yes, I will get bored. Today may have been a cracking point.

Really, this isn't the first time I've ended up this bored. There was that week a few months back when Ted and Rochelle went to Milan for business and Lauren was on vacation, I had nothing to do then. I was so bored I started singing little songs to myself (in my head of course) to stay occupied. There was also the time when I got sent to the hole for trying to organize an escape from the prison camp I was in. I just kept throwing that baseball against the wall and catching it to keep sane. Then I escaped by motorcycle, but the Nazi's shot me to death... Oh wait.

My friend Emily used to write me all the time from Chicago. She too had a job that didn't require the full extent of her ability, but then she got all uppity and decided to go to law school. Sell out. My friend Rachel was in the same camp, but then she got promoted and now she's got no time for inane email chatter.
I've played games at work, not solitaire or anything, made up games. Sometimes I play the same song over and over again for hours to see how long it takes someone to notice. They don't. Other times I'll recite rap lyrics under my breath, my favorite being "Get Low" featuring the Ying Yang Twins. No one notices that either... and probably for the best considering how dirty it is. Aw skeet skeet mother fucker, aw skeet skeet goddamn.

Should I try and get a new job? Should I just give in to the mundane existence I'm living? I'm having to face facts that my life is pretty... dare I admit it... average. I'm no jet setting socialite. I don't summer. I have no wealth of art to claim creation of. Where's the saving grace? Where's my Fight Club? The closest I have now is the Book Club I'm part of.

I'm getting stuck in the middle of being a tall, average white guy in New York City. Maybe I should start wearing alligator shirts tucked into khaki shorts. Should I become a sports fan, so that when I'm bored at work I can obsessively read scores and stats about my favorite squadron of athletes?

No, I think it's time to pony up and take charge of things. If my life is going to be mundane and normal then I guess I have to alter that. I guess I'll pick up an affect. Maybe a slight British accent, or a love of obscure 60's rock bands. Perhaps I'll get really into tea, and talk about different types of tea, and how tea is better than coffee. I could never really do that last one, I can't turn my back on coffee like that.

Oh well, in reality I'll probably just keep working here, going nuts, until my career blows up. Then all of you (Rob, Emily and Charlie... my readers) can say you knew me back when I was working at Clinique, writing blogs and listening to M.O.P.'s "Ante Up" as loud as I think I can get away with at work.

P.s.
Whoever said I was too cute to smell like cigs, ante up. My fragile ego doesn't deal well with anonymity... unless you're a crazy stalker. If you're a crazy stalker I can deal with your anonymity just fine.

They're all going to laugh at you

2006-09-06T12:56:00.000-04:00

Ah, fall is in the air. The leaves will soon start changing colors, animals will get fat trying to stave off death from starvation, and I'll get to wear hoodies and pull overs. Yes, the seasons are changing just as they do every year. Autumn in New York is truly a wonderful experience... the season... not the movie... the movie sucked.

So now you're asking yourself, "What's Kingman up to this fall? I'll bet it's something awesome". The answer as to my Fall projects are these. I'm going to make a short, and I'm quitting smoking... again.
Judge all you want bastards, I did quit a long time ago. I made it something like three months without one of those little bastards gracing my lungs. But, as you smokers and former smokers out there know, smoking is hard to quit.

This little cartoon makes it look like fun to quit smoking. It couldn't be farther from the truth. Quitting smoking is like giving up hope. Smoking provides you with a sense of self, a purpose, something to do with your hands. Quitting smoking makes you have to ask tough questions like

"Am I still cool?" "Will women find me attractive now that I'm not a rebel?" and "What would James Dean do?". Now clearly I'm not going to go crash my car and die... because I don't have a car... and I don't want to die. That said I clearly need to quit smoking, since smoking, in no uncertain terms, causes cancer.
So once again I've donned the patch and am trying to keep those little bastards from getting in my mouth and fouling my lungs. What makes this time different?

Absolutely nothing, but if I don't keep trying then I let the terrorists win, because that's what they want, John Kingman dead.

Secretary of State Donald Rumsfeld interviews me

2006-08-30T14:59:00.000-04:00

The following are excerpts from an Interview I did at the home of Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld:

Donald Rumsfeld (DR): John.
Me: Don... hah! Don and John. Cute.
DR: Don't call me Don, it's Donald or Mr. Secretary.
Me: Mr. Secretary... hah... like Mr. Mom.
DR: Do you want to do this interview or not?
Me: Yes sir, I do. What's first?
DR: You've been doing this blog now for nearly a year. You started out on Friendster Blogs, but switched to Blogger at the beginning of August. Why the change?
Me: Well Donald, Friendster kind of annoys me. I'm not much into doing this blog for other people's benefit, mostly because I'm bored at work...
DR (interrupting): At Clinique?
Me: Yes, at Clinique... Friendster was too visible, I wanted a place to hide my thoughts away... like a diary.
DR: Why didn't you start a diary?
Me: What am I? A twelve year old?
DR: No. I keep a diary.
Me: I'd like to see that.
DR: You and everyone else.
(Laughter)
DR: You work at Clinique. How did you end up there?
Me: I've always loved makeup. Ever since I was a kid I've been fascinated by makeup, the compacts and tubes, the women who wear it. It's always played a huge part in my life.
DR: Is it true that you had no previous experience with makeup before going to work at Estee Lauder, Clinique's parent organization?
Me: No... Yes.
DR: So you had no experience. Do you even care about makeup?
Me: No.
DR: So I ask again, why did you end up at Clinique?
Me: I don't know. It's a job, my friend Heather (Huber) worked at Estee Lauder and said she could get me in. I took it.
DR: Is it true that in 1983 you were in Iraq pledging support from the US government to Saddam Hussein?

Me: I'm pretty sure that was you.
DR: Oh, right.
Me: Are you okay? You seem distracted.
DR: It's just all this criticism towards George (Bush, Jr.) is really getting me down. I mean, how can these media people calling for withdrawal not realize it's the same as appeasing Nazi's in the 30's?
Me: Because it's not. If our presence in Iraq had any discernable effect on terrorism then yes, you'd have an argument. But seeing as neither Saddam or the Iraqi people had any connections to September 11th, the bombing of the USS Cole, or any other act of terrorism against the US it's pretty ridiculous to say that they're responsible. It's like going to war with France in the 30's and then saying that we're giving in to the Nazi's if we withdraw.
DR: Hippie.
Me: Fascist.
DR: Interview's over.
Me: Fine by me (under breath) asshole.
DR: What did you say?
Me: Castle.
DR: Oh... why did you say castle?
Me: What?
DR: What?!?
Me: Nothing, I thought you called me an asshole.
DR: Interview's over.
Me: Right.

God Don't Make No Mistakes

2006-08-29T12:34:00.001-04:00

People are always telling me "You can't sell slick to an oil can". I don't know if they mean that I personally can not, or if one in general is incapable of doing so... either way I'm not selling any slick to oil cans... whatever that means.

But I will tell you some things. First and foremost, don't go see "Idlewild". Many of you know that I love Outkast more than I love the three children I've fathered. They had a profound impact on my life, so it came as no surprise that I was at "Idlewild" on opening night.

Now, to be fair, recently Andre's been getting on my nerves. I know everyone's all up on his shit, saying he's so brilliant and creative... and it's true. But I didn't get into Andre because of his grand Pop sensibilities.

I got into Outkast, the duo, because they wrote some fucking great rap albums... not "Hey Ya'". Andre, for all his need for musical expression and "artistic" "freedom" needs to check himself before he wrecks himself. I like him as an actor, and I like him as a pop star, but he's one half of something amazing and he better recognize that. But back to the movie.

So, aside from some problems maintaining historical accuracry (Cab Calloway was not a rapper, and rap did not exist in the 30's... nor did modern Coke machines) the movie was fun. I mean, sure there was some weird stuff, Big Boi's talking flask or Andre's best friend the cat, but one learns to expect that kind of thing from Outkast, they're experimental. But what was this movie about? Andre and Big Boi are barely in it together, and when they are their characters hardly know each other, except for some tangential "boyhood friendship".

(who didn't like Macaully Culkin in Saved? Nobody, but having him play a young Andre? Weird... just plain weird)

Was it a story about 1930's bootlegging in Atlanta? Was it a musical about a gifted pianist, a cocky entertainer, and a beautiful dame with a great pair? Who knows, certainly not Dre, Big Boi or Brian Barber.

In the end it felt like a 2 hour rap video, and not a particularly good one at that. Maybe my expectations were too high, but I wanted something along the lines of Pink Floyd's "The Wall"... only with Outkast. Brian Barber may be a great music video director, but he's not much of a screenwriter. Also a musical to an album released three years ago might not be a good idea to then name after a brand new album that's barely featured in the movie.

And lastly, what's the guy from Zoobilee Zoo doing playing Andre's father? Is Andre just trying to explain why his character would befriend a talking cat? Is it because his Dad used to be a cat?

I need to stop Robotripping (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robotripping) before movies.

So with all the hub bub around Outkast, the constant "Is Andre leaving" and Big Boi consistently stating that everything's fine, I'd just like to take this opportunity to point out that I am a rapper. So if you're Big Boi, and you're reading this blog... which I think is likely, know that I could completely take Andre's place... though we'd have to rename Aquemini to Aquancer or Cancarious.

The Importance of being Active

2006-08-10T11:25:00.000-04:00

I've decided, in light of all of the horrible things happening world wide, and in my life, to duck my head deep into the sand and ignore it all. Iran next up on Bush's to-do list? Climactic climatic changes happening world wide? I got dumped? Yes, yes, yes! On all counts yes. Do I care? Yes. But what can one man do besides shut out the bad thoughts and think about something happy?

Something happy like writing a play.

Many of you know that as an elementary, junior high, and highschooler I was immersed in the theater community. My Mother thought it was important to foster artistic expression in me (though why she couldn't have pushed me like some of the other theater moms did I don't know. Shit, I could be the next Freddie Prinze Jr. right now). I took summer theater, I auditioned for plays, and when high school rolled around I enrolled in the Central High School Touring Theater.

(This is Jan Mandell, director of the Central Touring Theater)

Now, with this long glorious tradition of participating in, and writing, plays one would ask "what have you been up to lately?" Not plays. That's for damn sure. I discovered, when I was 19, a medium in which moving pictures could be paired with sound to create the illusion of watching a play on a screen. Through careful editing you can condense the "play" or change it up altogether so it's not so much a "play" anymore as it is something entirely it's own. But these moving plays are time consuming and difficult to put together. They require actors, scripts, directors, crew, equipment and money. A play however is the poor mans moving picture (movie).

(Who is this dapper fellow? Why, it's the biggest pimp in playwriting, Oscar Wilde)

Now sure, my heart wasn't broken by the dumping, but it left me confused and rejected. How do I take this bitter no-good feeling and translate it into words? I could go the Neil Labute direction and write plays about bitter men misogynistically ruining women's lives, and how the women really deserve it anyway, but I don't think like that. Yes, I could write something autobiographical that paints me as a charming (true), handsome (true) and devilishly clever (oh so true) man trying to figure out the world, but who would care? You have to keep the people in their seats. Considering most people flee from talking to their friends about "emotions" and "feelings", I doubt putting it into a play would fare well. Instead I think of Shakespear, Wilde and Shepard and their comedies and I feel inspired. Yes a comedy is exactly what's needed. A comedy... of errors!

So over the rest of this summer and well into the fall look for me in your local coffee shop (assuming your local coffee shop is the Verb Cafe on Bedford in Williamsburg Brooklyn) casually sucking on the end of a pen and staring wistfully up at the sky. It may just be a pose to show the girls I'm "deep" but it may also be you witnessing brilliance. You'll know by the signs. If I start writing: Brilliance. If I sigh loudly and then consciously look around the room to see who noticed: Posing.

Heartbrakes (sic)

2006-08-08T10:51:00.000-04:00

I've noticed that the summer, a summer that was supposed to be great, is nearly done. What is there to show for it? Heart ache and pain. Not mine so much, my heart died in 'Nam, but it seems like everyone is getting dumped. I have many friends who are pretty/handsome, smart, funny and so on and they're getting shit canned.

What gives? Is there something in the water that's turning the significant others of my homies retarded? I mean seriously it's out of control. If you're reading this (you're not, no one is reading this) and you're single I guarantee I could hook you up with someone awesome. Not me though, I only date models and we all know models can't read or turn on computers.

P.S. If you are a model and want to date a really tall geek, you're in the right place.

Welcome to the Machine

2006-08-07T16:03:00.000-04:00

Oh dear gentle reader,

So much has happened since I last wrote lines of digital information to you. I cannot fathom where to begin with you all. Firstly, you may notice that you are not on Friendster. This is because you are not on Friendster. I have moved Toilet Time For Tiny Town to give myself the ease allowed through the wonderful programmers (nerds) at Blogspot. I also moved because I have friends with blogs here and I am a sheep.

Secondly, I am once again single. Some of you may be scratching your heads (or lower) and saying "I didn't realize he'd been off the market". I had, I was, and I am not now. Yes, once again I am on the market. Unfortunetly, due to some cruel Japanese price fixing, I am currently undervalued at being cute and sort of funny. I should, by any standards, be valued at hot and genius. Unfortunetly I have been unable to remedy my standing on the Nasdaq.

Thirdly, Video Gaga has begun to suck up much of my creative life. This is a good thing, as my only other outlet is this blog. Let's face facts people. I couldn't give two shits about any of you, but if I'm up on stage I might get famous. If I get famous I'll finally be able to afford the sycophants I've always deserved.

Fourthly, I recently came back from Minnesota where I saw many dear friends, and Dan Itzkowitz. Yes, my friends back home are doing quite well. Some are home owners, some are in stable loving relationships, some have great jobs.

I ask you, who wouldn't give up all that to move to a city of eight million people, none of whom know your name? Who wouldn't trade loving friendships for backstabbing assholes and emotionally crippling friends? Who doesn't prefer the joy of lonely annonymity to the

careful questions of a caring pal? I'll tell you who, people with no self respect... Certainly not yours truly.

Fifthly, I wrote, recorded and shot a video for Colonel Bastard, my rapper alter ego. I have yet to put it up on Youtube, but mostly because the DVD will not fit through the mouth piece on my cell phone, and unless I can get that fixed I'm out of alternatives.

So that's where I'm at this moment. Back from a trip, loving every moment of work. Looking forward to more of the mind numbing, soul crushing, ass dripping heat that summer in NY brings. Praying for a quick and timely death before anymore angst/pain/tragedy befalls me.

So to you and yours I wish the best. Let's hope this next week sees an end to Lebanese/Israeli hostilities, a less aggressive Iran, and a littly smoochy smoochy for me.

Bombs over B-Burg

2006-05-10T15:51:00.000-04:00

When Dr. Henry Jekyll first drank the potion that ultimately turned him into Mr. Hyde he had a brief moment to wonder "what is happening to me?" before he changed. When Bruce Banner had a similar instance he too took moment's notice before becoming the Hulk. I had no notice of the moment... one day I was John Kingman, the next, Spring came and my hormones turned me into that cartoon wolf who's eyes bug out every time he sees a "dame". Yes my friends, Spring is in the air. With it comes birds and bees and sh*t.

Now, I happen to be somewhat cynical about the whole romance thing. It's good because the cynicism keeps my very fragile heart shielded from all those nasty things like "heart break". I have found though, that nothing ever prepares me for the horrors of being single during this worst of seasons. For in Spring there is no refuge. With warmer weather people begin dressing brazenly, as if to say "look at me, am I not attractive?". One can not help but wonder "Can I not also find happiness? If I wear shorts will I not attract the fairer sex?" In my case no, I have chicken legs, but the thought process is correct.
With all Hipster bashing aside, I must say that Williamsburg has more than it's fair share of attractive 20-30 somethings running around. One need only walk down Bedford on a Saturday to see the bevy of women (or men for you ladies) who call Williamsburg their home, or at least hang out there on weekends. They come in all shapes, sizes, races and backgrounds. There is literally someone for everyone, again excluding me... I am cripplingly shy and no one will ever love me.
But what does one do in this situation? Pardon me for some frankness in the following thoughts. Though I come off as saintly like the Pope or Buddha, I am in fact... a man. And as such I have compulsions which are hard to quiet. What does one do when Spring is in the air and you find yourself single? I myself do not believe in the merit of "one night stands" as they leave me feeling scummy and guilty. I do not believe in casual "friends" either since you're not really friends and the ambiguity can be crushing. But I also do not have a "steady", as I believe the kids call it these days, so what does one do? I have found drinking helps, but I can't seem to drink enough, and it's expensive. Of course there are other outlets for this type of energy.

(Those warehouses finally got their comeuppance)

But starting fires is hardly a constructive outlet. I find nothing wrong with being single. In fact, in New York it seems to be the axiom for the twenty something. But what does one do when one hears the birds and bees singing their tune, when one senses the change of season, when one sees a multitude of women dressed like Harlots? If one is me, and realizes the futility of even leaving my apartment, one writes raps.
Yes, once again, I will be attempting to use these clement summer months to record a rap album. The first track is already nearing completion, which is a vast improvement over last summer's failed attempt.
So, since I am not spoken for and my ethics (stupid stupid ethics) will continue to keep me away from the vile forays the rest of my age group partakes in, I will do the only rational thing available to myself. I will use the opportunity of my metamorphosis into Professor Murder to stay away from the girls my brother warned me about and instead hole up in my office and "bust" "phat" "beats".

This is, unfortunetly, mostly not a joke... at least I'm not kidding about the rap album.

Malaise, Apathy and f*cked up haircuts

2006-04-19T15:46:00.000-04:00

Dearest readers, as many of you know I recently switched postal codes. I did this not through mail fraud and trickery but instead with a moving truck and a new apartment... A new palatial apartment. I'm now living in my "friend" Brian's apartment. I use the quotation marks to denote the fact that Brian openly dislikes me.

Brian's apartment is located squarely in the Bedford, Mini-mall, Metropolitan section of Williamsburg... Land of the dreaded Hipster.
Some of you hail from areas that have no Hipsters, or places where people think they're Hipsters but wouldn't know a real one if that said Hipster bit them on the ass. Of course a real Hipster would never bite someone's ass unless the act of biting the persons ass sent a message exactly opposite of a normal ass biting. The point being no self respecting ass biting Hipster is going to bite a non-Hipster or Hipster wannabe's ass. Why would I put so much effort into that explanation? If the clarification means absolutely nothing to the real world it is paramount to the Hipster.
There are advantages though to living in the realm of the Hipster. One is that they cannot see you. Hipsters exist in a parallel universe that bisects our own. Though we can touch Hipsters, talk with them, or smell them they cannot be effected by us in any way.

It's actually pretty refreshing for me. In Park Slope it seemed like you couldn't go anywhere without being accosted by couples with McLaren baby strollers and dogs. In Williamsburg even the dogs are disaffected. They won't even sniff your feet when you walk by them.
But contrary to Craigslist, Williamsburg is about more than just Hipsters. There's also the businesses they started. Trendy cafes and shops, art galleries and boutiques, there's pretty much something for everyone there, unless you're poor. If you're poor go to Bed-Stuy or something. Though it may not look like, Williamsburg has some money circulating in it and we don't need you pan handling or looking all mooney eyed through our restaurant windows... Especially not when I'm dropping a hondo on four courses.
So far my favorite spots have been:
Teddy's Bar 96 Berry St, Brooklyn, NY (718) 384-9787
Roebling Tea Room 143 Roebling St, Brooklyn, NY (718) 963-0760
Barcade 388 Union Ave, Brooklyn, NY (718) 302-6464
If you can put up with the apathy, disfigured hair cuts, and clothes reminiscent of a salvation army bombing then Williamsburg might be for you. In fact give me a call and we'll go get drinks*Â†.
*All offers to get drinks are subject to you being cool enough to get drinks with me.
Â† You are not cool enough to get drinks with me.

California Dreaming Pt. 2

2006-03-30T13:02:00.000-05:00

So I want to start out this second part first with an apology. It has recently come to my attention that every time I post you all receive a notification that I have done so. This is ridiculous and I hadn't posted the second part earlier because I was trying to figure out how to turn it off. Unfortunately what Friendster's tech people told me is that you dear reader have to turn off the receive notification option. So, if you're sick of hearing that I've patted myself on the back again with another self inflated ego stroking post, you'll have to go into "My Settings" in the upper right section of your account page and turn off the receive notifications. And now into the post.

As I was saying, plane rides make life so much easier. So after we unloaded Dan, Chris and I went back to the apartment, grabbed Chris' girlfriend Lisa and walked to a pancake house in Palo Alto's downtown shopping district. When Chris and I were in High school we had comparable appetites. It hurts me to say that Chris is no longer capable of keeping "it" real. He and Lisa shared three pancakes and couldn't finish them. I ate two by myself and could have easily eaten another. I won't eat someone else’s left overs because that's what poor people do and I was still feeling rocky from the night before so they got a to-go box. Afterwards we went back to the apartment and took Lisa's car to Half Moon Bay.

On the way there Chris told me the truth about California. I was shocked that one, Dan had never said anything about these facts and that two, I had never read this stuff anywhere. Someone high up has been keeping y'all ignorant and I'm about to set it straight.

1) California has the most Space lasers of any state in the Union.
2) Most of these Space lasers are located beneath fake lakes.
3) All lakes in California are fake, the California the Spanish encountered only had the ocean and some rivers.
4) California is on a fault line. Some day a giant Earthquake will happen and the rest of the country will fall into the ocean leaving only the Californians.
5) Californians are sure they're better than you.

Half Moon bay was pretty but I'm pretty sure Chris only made us go there because his last name is Moon.

(Chris and Lisa at Half Moon Bay)

After the bay we went back to Palo Alto, had some dinner at a nice pizza place called Patxi's. The waiter kept calling it "Patchi's" and I felt bad because he was clearly too stupid to pronounce it correctly as "Pattexis".
Sunday Lisa went back to school in San (some other southern part of California) and Chris and I went over to the physics lab. Chris is building, along with a few other people, a world-class electron microscope. It is capable of seeing an atom.

The lab is in a sub basement and nearly soundproof. I saw a picture of an Atom but it just looked like a weird hexagon. Science is kind of unimpressive actually.
Afterwards we played more GTA San Andreas and I went to sleep. The next morning I hopped on three planes to get back to NY and was in bed by 10pm EST.

The high points of the flight? Sleeping, sleeping through the in flight movie on the way to Atlanta (can anyone say Aeon Flux?) and the one hour between Atlanta and Cincinnati where I flew first class. I drank a lot of free coke and ate a lot of free pretzels. I also took the remote control from my personal entertainment console, the sleeping man next to me's laptop, the emergency oxygen mask in the panel above me (I jimmied the panel open with a pen) and I joined the mile high club by myself. All in all I give California a thumb up.

California Dreaming Pt. 1

2006-03-28T12:56:00.000-05:00

Last Thursday at around 1:30 I got on a plane bound for San Jose, California. Don't worry reader: I had purchased tickets for this flight, this was no spur of the moment plane jacking. I had planned for some weeks to go out to Palo Alto and visit Dan and Chris at Stanford. I hope if nothing else this story proves that I'm smart, if only by association.
The first leg of the trip was a quick jaunt over to Minneapolis where I had a five hour layover. Mommy came to the airport to pick me up and we went back to the house of my birth (which is being sold) and I ate sandwiches and regailed my mother with off color stories from New York. I think it's the first time I told her a story ending with myself exclaiming (in the story and not to my mother) "Damn those some tig ol' bitties!!!".
Around 8pm I got back on a plane headed to San Jose and the greater West Coast (that's where the rappers what hated on the East coast are from). The second plane ride was equally uneventful. Perhaps the only good things to come from Aero-planes are thus: 1)They are much faster than cars and trains. 2) You can take neat pictures out their windows.

I touched down in San Jose at 10:50. Chris and Dan were there waiting for me along with Chris' girlfriend Lisa, who I hadn't met before. The four of us went to the grocery store and bought ice cream and then went back to their apartment. The weather was very nice, especially since MN had snow.
The next morning I awoke and Dan and I went over to Stanford's campus. Dan had to work on some school related computer things, so I thought I'd take advantage of the day by sitting around campus reading a book and ogling undergrads... which I did. Stanfords campus is very big and easily defendable, let that be a lesson to the Japanese if their expansionist eyes happen upon Stanford. It is a complex of giant courtyards, passageways and mamoth school buildings filled with classrooms to teach young minds.

That night Dan and I went to a grad students birthday party and I drank a wee bit too much. No pukey, but the next morning/mid-day/afternoon wasn't so much fun. Chris, Lisa and I went and ate giant pancakes and then played Grand Theft Auto San Andreas. I killed a lot of hookers, and I only wanted to find a knife so I could slit a cops throat...
The next morning Chris and I took Dan to the airport so's he could go to New York where his gal pal Jen is. It's kind of funny to me that in the olden days it took people nearly a year to get from the east coast to the west and usually involved canabalism, and now it's a six hour plane ride (assuming you don't have layovers).

Super intelligent hyper dog invasion!!!

2006-03-16T15:38:00.000-05:00

Friends, I have never been more terrified in my life. I'm not talking about the war in Iraq, the rising ultra nationalism in Serbia, or tensions with Iran over their nuclear ambitions. I am talking specifically and in hushed tones about the new menace... Dogs who know how to use computers.
I was browsing my Friendster page and noticed that in the singles in my area section was a picture of "Muffin". I thought, "how odd. A girl with the screen name Muffin. She must be a freak in the bedroom." Indeed she is freaky, freaky terrifying.

(Muffin)

Muffin is a super smart computer savvy dog. And Muffin isn't the only canine using Friendster... Oh no, I found hundreds more! Average dogs with names like "Cookie", "Pixie" and "Bubba"...

(Cookie)

...are infiltrating Friendster.
Now, the question comes up... How are these dogs logging into Friendster and why? As far as I could tell most of these dogs got a great sense of satisfaction out of being pets to their "masters" but, right there in the terminology something was unsettling. To have a master implies a derogatory power structure with a "slave" to the "master". So, if the dogs here see themselves as "slaves" are they intending to overthrow this system? If so do they see their "masters" as their enemy or all humans? Further investigation into these doggy accounts revealed that these dogs were mostly interested in eating, pooping and meeting other dogs. I could tell below the surface that something sinister was happening but I couldn't put my finger on it. That's when I found the most frightening link...

(Peanut)

The dogs were Friendsters with cats. Anyone who knows anything about anything ever in the course of the world knows that dogs and cats hate each other. Sure liberal Hollywood wants you to believe they can get along but if you've ever seen the split nose of a puppy or the half eaten corpse of a kitten you know this is typical big screen bullsh*t. Yet on Friendster I was finding connections between hundreds of thousands of dogs and cats. Is there an alliance? Is the enemy of my enemy truly my friend?
I tried to dig deeper. I started contacting these dogs and cats, innocently prodding for information. It didn't take long before I was told to stay away.

(Shiro)

"Hey jerk off, I don't know who you think you're fooling with your little messages but let's get something straight. Whatever you think is going on is much much bigger, and unless you like the idea of ending up in an industrial meat grinder in Jersey you better keep your questions to yourself. You've been warned by the IPLF (International Pet Liberation Front)"
After wetting myself I became calm, almost serene. That's when I decided to tell all. Stay vigilant reader, the cats and dogs are everywhere. If you see them in packs, run for your life. Keep your fire arms locked away (they don't have opposable thumbs so they can't use keys). Be prepared because whether we like it or not... the war is coming.

My best Fiend

2006-03-08T15:28:00.000-05:00

In a few short weeks (a week and a half) I'm moving out of 107 St. Marks place and making my way north through Bed-Stuy and into the venerable Willy-B (Williamsburg, hipster not historic). Before I do this I want to address a particular fixture of 107 St. Marks Place #1. No, I'm not talking about the fact that the hot and cold water handles are reversed in my bathroom, I'm talking about Nugget... my nemesis.

(This is an actual, undoctored photo)

Many of you have made fun of me for my deep distrust of Nugget. Some have commented that my fear of the cat somehow makes me less of a man. You who mock haven't been subjected to the terrors of living with him. Go to the survivor of the Texas Chainsaw Masacre and say "Leatherface isn't so bad, you're just a p*ssy".
In detail, living with Nugget is exactly the same as living with a roommate who has schizophrenia and a violent streak. For instance one time Nugget was sitting in the middle of the living room. I picked up my shoes off the floor and Nugget, in a fit of rage, ran and wrapped his front legs around my leg and repeatedly bit me. Another time he bit Dave's face because Dave was petting him, and he'd grown tired of it. He drew blood one morning when I was walking back from the kitchen to my room and hadn't paid him enough attention after feeding him. Come to think of it, one of our first altercations as roomies was when Dave was visiting his parents and I was feeding Nugget. I put his full bowl of food down and he bit my hand... hard. Quite literally Nugget bites the hand (mine) that feeds.
Now Nugget isn't all scratching, biting and drawing blood. Sometimes he's really sweet. When I watch that show... um, you know that 70's show. What's it called?
Get it?!? Like I couldn't remember the name... but that is the name!!!
Anyway, when I'm watching that he'll come over and lie next to me and put his front paw out. If I touch his paw he'll bite me, but if I leave well enough alone we're fine. He'll even let me pick him up now, something that Dave can't get away with. Sometimes I hear him purr. But all of these gestures of docility are merely weighed for their effect in getting my gaurd down. Whenever I think we've hit some point of understanding between us and that maybe, just maybe the violence will end... Nugget bites me.
So when I move next week and leave behind 107 St. Marks place, Dave and my landlords Joe and Lizzie, I'll also be leaving behind the worse pet I've ever co-habitated with. Nugget I hope you die at an early age in a painful way. You're a little bastard.

Why we fight

2006-02-28T14:58:00.000-05:00

Some people have been curious exactly what it is that I do at work and I'll admit to being pretty tight lipped about it. But lest people continue to propagate the myth that I work at a Clinique counter, or that I actually still work at the video store, I will do my best to explain the work process and my role in it.

This is where I work. The 37th floor of the illustrious GM building, built by George Montgomery in 1853 and surprisingly modern looking. The first ten floors used to be Mr. Montgomery's private zoo but the smell wafting up the elevator shaft made business flee and the zoo was eventually removed in 1914. Most of the animals were sent to fight in WWI and many died at Verdun.

This is my cubicle. You may notice a mirror effect taking place on the screen of my computer. Every week I take a picture of my cubicle at roughly the same angle and then set that as my desktop. So when I take the weeks following picture of my desktop my desktop from the week before is being displayed. In this picture six weeks have passed since I started the process. I'm clearly very busy.

These are, in order from right to left, Rochelle, Ted and Kimia. Ted is my boss, the head of packaging. Kimia and Rochelle give me projects. Not pictured: Jillian, Christie, Joanne, Rosanna, Jessica and Les.

These are my two rubber stamps. About a third of my responsibility lies in processing invoices. We work with a lot of companies who make comps, take pictures, retouch and so on. These companies charge us outlandish sums higher than my yearly pay. I am the last in the line that makes sure they're paid. If it weren't for me, many New York CEO's wouldn't be able to line their swimming pools with gold this year.

These markers are used for the nest third of my job. At one point Ted saw me doodling and called me an "illustrator". This is apparently what one calls a person who doodles. So now instead of drawing crude pictures of B52s dropping bombs on my old grade school JJ Hill, I now draw crude pictures of B52s dropping their payloads on to lipstick tubes and white women.

The last third of my job is photo retouching. When I finally got a computer made in the last twenty years it came pre-loaded with photoshop. At that point Ted decided that I would also start assisting Kimia (both pictured above) in some of her work with Travel Retail (sh*t you buy at airport duty free shops when you're bored between flights). This entails taking digital photo's of products and then making them look prettier than I did in the crappy job I did of taking their picture. It's very complicated. It's also allowed me to train in Photoshop which has resulted in the above image, and many pictures of co-workers I had doctored.
The other key points of my job:
Drinking coffee
Making sarcastic comments
Blendwourthe & Biddle the ebay company run by Ted and myself
Coming up with exciting new ways to make the time here go just a little quicker...
If anyone knows of any video stores that are hiring I can attach my resume to this.

Mama don't take my Kodachrome down by the shoolyard

2006-02-22T14:47:00.000-05:00

I bought a digital camera recently. For those of you not in the know, a digital camera is exactly like a film camera except it uses digital instead of film. Also when you want to see your film pictures you have to take them to Duane Reade and have "Jason" develop them and probably look at them before you do. With digital you just plug in a tube between your camera and a computer and the pictures go through that. It's really easy.
I got a little Canon 5 mega whozit ma jiggy camera. It's nice, it's about the size of a deck of cards, has a good sized display on the back so I can see what I'm doing and it's sturdy for dropping. It's ability to handle low light situations leaves something to be desired but that's sort of the curse of photography in general. The image resolution is good, a little grainy or whatever one calls the digital equivalent. All I know is my dick looks funny in my cock shots but the city scapes I took turned out very well.

I've taken enough pictures of myself at this point, the best example being my current Friendster picture as an old timey mayor or pirate as my friend Sarah suggested. I decided to do a series called "Lunch" where I take photos of what I'm eating each day. Here is yesterdays:

Of course this presents a problem since I eat the same four things every week. I don't know, there's a party this weekend where I'll get some good drunk pictures. I still need to develop the rolls I took on New Years... Still have to piece together those three missing hours.

Reflections

2006-02-17T11:22:00.000-05:00

Today marked three weeks since I sucked off a cancer stick. Here's what I think...
I think smoking makes you cool and now I have to adjust to being a "normal" person. I put normal in quotation marks because my lack of smoking certainly hasn't cleaned my mouth up or made me stop thinking about violence.
I haven't noticed being able to smell any better than I used to, but I have again noticed how much this city smells like poo poo and pee pee in certain parts. Poo poo and pee pee are standing in for P*ss and Sh*t which are both words prohibited by F****dster.
As some of you may remember I was very hyper even through high school. This has returned much to my chagrin and I now have been exercising daily for two weeks. I run around my apartment and scare Nugget (Dave's cat) and Dave (Nugget's b*tch).
Throughout my appetite has remained consistently abusive.
So that's that. Three weeks and I'm apparently cured. I think I'll celebrate by taking up heroin.

My so called life with Joe Camel

2006-02-10T11:19:00.000-05:00

I've made it two weeks now. I have one week left and b all accounts I'll have made it past the hardest parts of quitting smoking. I want to say thank you to all of you who have been their for me offering support. It's harder than it should be. To all the kids out there: don't smoke... unless you want to look cool. If you want to look cool you should smoke, 'cause smoking is cool. God I want a cigarette.

Rejection

2006-02-07T11:18:00.000-05:00

Rejection is a hard thing to face. Whether it be from an employer, a friend or a lover, it is always hard. It's the negation of hope and longing. The moment when everything you've tied up into a person or thing is cruelly crushed into fine powder before your once happy heart... or so I've heard. I myself have never faced "rejection" so I'm paraphrasing what a bunch of losers once told me it felt like.
Tonight however I did participate in the "Rejection Show". Jon Friedman hosts a forum where people who work in the arts and have had their projects "rejected", as the name suggests, share with the audience. Why was I there? Certainly not because of anything I did.
Some of you may recall that during the summer I teamed up with Sara Schaefer (now Genoa) to do a little short she wrote. A little short called "The Super" f*cking "Awesome 10 Show" (The word f*cking was added for emphasis and did not appear in the actual title sequence). This short was a gem and Sara and I poured a lot of love and effort into it. We put so much effort and love in to it that I thought the hearts of a million children might implode, it didn't happen, but I thought it might. After nearly two months of using every bit of free time I had available to create this masterpiece it was rejected by the Channel102 committee. Bullsh*t but there you have it. Now clearly Sara was the one rejected, because my work is indisputably brilliant, but I couldn't help but feel... letdown? I don't know, it felt like the time I really wanted a Prada wallet for my 16th birthday and instead I got cuff links that once belonged to Hitler. I guess it's what the losers said rejection feels like. From the point it was shot down to this evening it had rarely seen the light of day. It was only whispered about at comedy shows and rest stop glory holes. Then Jon put it up there for the sold out audience and they liked it... they really really liked it. So to all of you that didn't come out to see it, and I'm mostly pointing my finger (middle) towards Minnesota, eat it. I may not know the sting of rejection, but I sure as sh*t know what it feels like to have such a lousy group of friends.

p.s.
In all seriousness it was nice to get it screened. I actually was happy about that. I did not receive Hitler's cuff links for my 16th birthday. I got a tooth my Uncle Walter swore was Hitler's but was more likely Uncle Walter's.

Bare naked ladies

2006-02-03T11:14:00.000-05:00

You remember that song... by the Bare naked ladies... One week? Well that's how long it's been since I quit smoking. I haven't cheated, snuck a smoke and lied about it. Nope, I've done a full week sans cigarettes. What have I learned? Don't smoke, quitting later sucks.
There's the Monday incident. Tuesday I was so afraid to put the patch on that I went cold turkey. I was making comp boxes and jumped the line with my exacto into and through much of my thumb. Wednesday was okay except I kept having urges to hurt people I didn't know. On the elevator at work all the lawyers got on at 25 and I contemplated smacking this guys head into the door. It's funny that I think these things when having a craving. Have I repressed my animal nature through smoking? I went out with Charlie, Cesa and Al last night and didn't smoke even after drinking mas cervesa's. Things would appear to be on the up and up. Here's to some smooth *ss sailing y'all.

Nicotine Dreams and Rude New Yorkers: AKA My journey with the patch

2006-01-30T11:10:00.000-05:00

So I went on the patch last Friday after my lunch break. That last cigarette was great, but I've known now for some time that I should quit smoking. Maybe it was the diminished energy, or the coughing, but I think what it came down to was the wheezing. Nothing says health and well being like wheezing from time to time.

Buying the patch was easy, no prescription necessary. I walked back to the office with six weeks of patches and two smokes, one burning in my mouth. At my cubicle (my palace of office efficiency) I took the last cigarette and made a three dimensional no smoking sign with it. It sits next to my computer to remind me. I slapped on a patch and began my journey.

In the brochure they tell you that wearing the patch overnight is recommended but that if you have "vivid" dreams you should take it off before bed and re-apply in the morning. They're not kidding about the dreams. They also say that you shouldn't cut them in half to get a half dose, because of the way they're designed. Oh good reader, I'll get back to that last point later... oh yes I will.
So the first night I woke up somewhere between three and five times after having "vivid" dreams. By vivid the Nicoderm company is implying a sense of realism that the dreamer cannot detach from reality. In reality "vivid" from now on will be used to mean "skull f*cking horror-core nightmares that made me contemplate my sanity".

I only remember two specifically. The rest faded when I realized upon waking that the grim reaper had not just decapitated me or that my family was indeed still alive, not gunned down. The first dream I remember, Friday night/Saturday morning, was that 9/11 was happening again but I didn't want to mention that it had already happened since everyone else didn't seem to notice. The second, last night/this morning, that I remember was being in my Mom's backyard playing with my brother. Seth had three toy tanks and I had a shovel and some manure. A stealth jet flew over and dropped a big metal egg, which I thought was a bomb. When it didn't explode my brother and I ran into the house. At that point the egg started making Sputnik noises and then opened, revealing a claymation fire hose. The hose sprayed water at Seth, knocking him unconscious and then my alarm went off. For some reason that dream was really unpleasant to me when it happened, but writing it makes it play out like Pee-Wee's playhouse.

The instructions for the patch say not to cut it in half. It's designed to slowly release nicotine into your blood stream over the course of 24 hours, replicating the experience of smoking throughout the day. If you cut it in half, the barrier which regulates the release is compromised allowing ALL the nicotine to go straight into your blood stream. So this morning I tried to peal the patch from it's backing from the wrong side. I thought nothing of possible damage I could have done until I got to the station and was waiting for the train.

I was tired yes, but I felt really weird. Being the dutiful soldier I got on the train to go to work. After the train left our station I started to feel sweaty and mildly nauseous. I convinced myself that I was creating these sensations because I had thought I might have tore the patch, not because I had torn the patch. I had torn the patch. Deciding it was worth risking the chance I was right, I took the patch off. I was becoming quite light headed and was in the process of asking a fellow passenger for a seat (not an easy task) when I found myself walking through a field on a cloudless summers day.

The next thing I knew I was lying on the floor of the train while a woman, who would later tell me her name was Rita, asked if I was "okay". I don't like to be woken from sleep and I would have told her off if I hadn't been so confused about why I'd gone to sleep on the floor of the N train. She suggested I take a seat that had opened up, presumably from someone fleeing from the sick passenger. I took the seat and met the concerned, and annoyed faces of my fellow travelers. Rita was very nice, seeing if anyone had water, asking if this had happened to me before and what not. I answered by leaving her, and the rest of the train, for the field again.

What a glorious wheat field it was, and the sky was such a dark blue for such a sunny day. When I came to again I was still seated but now Rita was suggesting that we get an ambulance and get me off the train at the next stop, Canal St. After a wee bout of vomiting I felt considerably more in charge. I got off the train with Rita and Ann(e?) and sat waiting for the EMTs. Thanks again to Rita, Ann and the NY EMTs. You all showed a considerable amount of patience and care. To all of you reading this, thanks for nothing. See what happens next time you get sick. I'm not helping and there won't be any goddamn chicken soups.

Just to sort out some details, I did not have to go to the hospital. The EMT's checked my blood pressure (Which according to them was very good for a healthy person), my pupils and my pulse. Everything was fine, I just felt funny at that point. I am writing this addendum at work after eating 18 pieces of sushi... KINGMAN'S BACK!

No pants

2006-01-23T11:03:00.000-05:00

So I, among 160 others, participated in No Pants 2K6. Good times were had by all as far as I could tell. It was fun watching peoples faces on the staging car as one, then two, then whole groups of people stood up at each station and de-pantsed. The woman sitting next to the door I was standing in front of seemed to think it was over when I dutifully removed my trousers and tossed them to the front of the car. On the target car things were pretty crowded and I think my long coat prevented most people from realizing I was pantsless. I won't forget the asian man standing next to me taking peeks just to make sure that, I indeed, was not wearing pants. Then the cops came and the missions was scrapped. Kudos to Kula for not breaking character the entire way back to Brooklyn Bridge. He kept saying things like "strange happenings on the train".
Forgot to plug the sight: Improveverywhere.com
Check it out.

My first fisher price post

2005-12-29T10:53:00.000-05:00

So this is the first post I've done for my "blog". Apparently "blog" is short for Web(internet) log(diary). Huh... "Cool". So for the film topic which I claimed would be the point of my Weblog(blog) I will fill everyone (my mom reading this) in on the film so far. I have most of a treatment done. I don't want to go into great detail, lest someone steal my idea, but let's just say it's the story of America in the last fifty years as told by a sweetly retarded man who witnessed and participated in some of the greatest moments. I'm going to call it Munich.

In other news the transit strike is over but the tourists are still here. I'm going to buy an umbrella so I can start poking tourists that have huddled together in groups of three or more in the middle of the sidewalk. Tourists are as bad as pigeons in this city.

New Years is coming up in a few days. If you don't have a date yet, now is the time to find anyone and cling desperately to them so that the new year isn't rung in with you still being pathetically single... oh my god... oh god... my life is such a waste. Happy New Years!