I'm the TR-808

Well, now that Krucoff's out of the country performing mitzvahs and all the test results have come back negative, I think it's safe to recount our exploits from last Wednesday. I actually did mean to write it up earlier, but I was in Florida for five days, and being in Florida makes me want to do nothing but eat pickled pig's feet and listen to David Allen Coe. I've recovered now.

Krucoff and I have been in talks for drinks for approximately seventeen years. Our conversations go something like this:

Me: Drinks tonight?
Him: Sure, how about 12:30?
Me: I am lame and I don't leave the house after 10.
Him: I could probably make it by 11:45.
Me: No.

OR

Him: Drinks tonight?
Me: Sure, where?
Him: [Generic Lame Bar on the Lower East Side]
Me: How many people will be in tow and how many of them do I loathe?
Him: [Number !< 6]

Last Wednesday night found me drunk enough to agree to leaving the house after 10. I begged Krucoff not to make me go to the LES. "Come to Queens," I implored. "I promise you a lap dance if you come to Queens." Forty-five minutes later, we were sitting in the Court Square Diner (11 restaurant inspection violation points). Krucoff ate dinner while I stuffed my face with the fries from his plate. "I've never been to this neighborhood," he remarked. "It's nice."

"You bet it is," I slurred. "Let's get the check--we're going to the Riverhead* for that lap dance I promised."

I have been to the Riverhead on many occasions. Although there is no shortage of gentlemen's clubs in LIC, this one is the best** because it is only three blocks from my apartment. Also, the dancers are remarkably fresh and young, presumably because they've only recently been kidnapped from their Russian Federation port cities. (Speaking of, is there a city in Russia proper that sounds like "Kazahkstan"? One girl told us that was where she was from, but she wasn't small and Asian-y looking, so I'm suspect.) The beers are only $5, which is cheap in comparison to every bar on the LES.

More important than being pneumatic, limber, or in possession of shoes with lucite heels is a stripper's ability to spot an easy mark. I was drunker than Cooter Brown; Krucoff loves the Aryan ladies--between us we easily spent $20 in the first ten minutes we were there. I generally ask every dancer where she's from--usually Poland or Estonia or Ukraine--and stick a dollar in her g-string and say spaceeba! or dziękuję!, which seems to make them giggle. "If they all speak different languages, what do they speak to each other?" Krucoff asked me at one point. "Esperanto," I replied.

So he went off to learn the International Language and was replaced by two jackass I-bankers, the likes of which I've never seen at the Riverhead. They were fascinated to find a clothed woman at the bar, so they chatted me up in that charmless, aging frat boy/rapist way that really turns me on. "This place is a dump," Asshole # 1 said, taking a sip of his Amstel Light.

"Lemme guess, you live in CityLights, don't you."

"Nope." He shooed one of the dancers away.

"Then what the fuck are you doing here," I sneered.

"We were playing golf on Long Island. We're on our way back to Manhattan."

"Aha! Wait, lemme guess again. You live in...Murray Hill. No, wait, the Upper East Side. No! Wait, I know...the Financial District." I poked at the embroidered Lehmann Brothers logo on his polo shirt. He was beginning to get annoyed. "So, you're a banker! At Lehmann Brothers!"

"Well, not anymore. I used to be-"

"Hey, Andrew!" Krucoff had finally reappeared. "This guy works at Lehmann Brothers!" I poked his chest again. "He plays golf and thinks the girls here are ugly."

I think Krucoff realized at this point that we had to leave before the former lacrosse players cleaned his clock. I was almost out of money and tired of drinking Budweiser. It seemed as good a time as any to end the evening.

On my way out I turned back to the I-bankers. I waved goodbye. "Fuck off back to Manhattan!" I shouted, smiling. I'm not sure if they understood me or not. I walked our Young Manhattanite halfway to the subway. And now he's off in a land where the lap dances are a lot cheaper.

The Dypsomaniaxe - All Women Are Bad
D-Nice*** - They Call Me D-Nice

*Which also has 11 restaurant inspection violation points.
**It is not the best in the world, however. That title goes to Baltimore's late, lamented Atlantis, which I'm sure Krucoff knows nothing about.
***Who the hell knew that the Human TR-808 was a photoblogger? Someone alert that Loren guy.

Bucharest and Multi-choose Mesc: Yes, Thank You!

Downtime. Presently you are in the Chair Zone. The further you advance to the East, you will find more people sitting on the ground. Ready, ass? Start blogging...

I'm staying here and it's not like I'm going to ignore the free Internet in my private room or make excuses for using it. This is not a trip to "get away from it all" - in fact, the opposite. I'm bringing it all here.

"Here" is a room in a 3-bedroom apartment on the ninth floor of a residential area Tower Block, like those ones on the lower Lower East Side, rented out by a guy and his elderly mom. Very nice people, one of them is always in the apartment. They provide me with water and shrug when I decline coffee or tea.

It's been two days in Bucharest enjoying the "sights" (Romania/Moldova Lonely Planet guide writer Leif Pettersen calls its a "hellhole" so who am I to disagree?) and tomorrow I start the volunteer program in Brasov. To recap, I've seen:

Romanian Peasant museum. Learned a good deal of peasant wisdom about fire. For example, if you don't cover up the oven then the neighbors will gossip. And, if you kindle the fire with wild rose twigs, the cow's tits will burst. Right!

Jewish History museum. Same sad tale through all of European history. Jews tried to assimilate in every possible way (without giving up the whole being a Jew thing), fought and held leadership positions in 19th century independence wars, but when push came to shove and local economic troubles were not solved by flipping the Hitler-Stalin coin, gossip about the Jews was uncovered and their neighbors put them in ovens.

Tour of the Palace of the Parliament. 2nd largest building in the world in square footage after the Pentagon. Construction started in 1984 and was 90% complete at the time of Ceauşescu's 1989 overthrow/execution. I felt Chris Gage's presence in its walls, for he no doubt would have turned to me and said, "man, that's a lot of fuckin' Communism." The tour lasted 40 mins with an inexplicable 10 min bathroom break in the middle. We apparently saw 3% of the place. Excerpt video below. Just wait until I make the full trip documentary with a Sewer Trout soundtrack. You will love it.

Also, I hung out in Herăstrău Park, walked all over the historic quarter, up and down Calea Victoriei, Sos Kiseleff, B-dul Unirii and followed an endless crowd of young people up to a 5th floor drinking terrace, Cafe Deko, in the national theatre building. Afterwards there was free opera/music outside. Good times. But be careful when using the back of a bulldozer as an emergency bathroom. Stray dogs lurk in the shadows.

"Monkeys Hate You" *AXED* by THE STRANGER

Click to enlarge

The Seattlest is reporting that my beloved comic "Monkeys Hate You" has gotten the heave-ho from The Stranger. Rumors are it sucked. Or perhaps the Safran Foers are *that powerful*. Long live Monkeys that Hate Everything! Viva Seattle! PS: Please riot.

What is Big, Red and Stinks?

It was in Romania, while making a film about Ceausescu, that I first stumbled across the historical legacy of the communist joke. There I learned that a clerk from the Bucharest transport system, Calin Bogdan Stefanescu, had spent the last ten years of Ceausescu's regime collecting political jokes. He noted down which joke he heard and when, and analysed his total of over 900 jokes statistically. He measured the time gap between a political event and a joke about that event, and then drew up a graph measuring the varying velocity of Romanian communist jokes. He was also able to assert—somewhat tenuously—that there was a link between jokes and the fall of Ceausescu, since jokes about the leader doubled in the last three years of the regime. The story of Stefanescu, the statistician of jokes, was, ironically, much funnier than the jokes themselves. It seemed to capture the prosaic reality of the little man struggling against the communist universe.
-Hammer & Tickle, Ben Lewis

Back in 2 weeks. Dana is in charge while I'm away. Standard "New Guy" rules. I'll be surprised if there's a post other than Nate's.

Three - "Pious & Blind"

Previously: "Don't Walk Away"

Hail Storm: Taxi-a-Yo-Yo

"Meanwhile, fears of universal disaster sank to an all time low over the world."
-Isaac Asimov

"There is such a thing as tempting the gods. Talking too much, too soon and with too much self-satisfaction has always seemed to me a sure way to court disaster. The forces of retribution are always listening. They never sleep."
-Meg Greenfield

"Once, I took a taxi. I hate those limousines. They stink and their drivers have been driving dead people to the cemeteries."
-Klaus Kinski

Pinhead Gunpowder - "Big Yellow Taxi"

Previously: PG-27, Achin' To Be and Benicia...

My 10 Commandments

1. Thou shalt not sew animal parts onto thine body.

Then Nate took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to live, explore the possibilities of creation, and make new animals. Nate told the man, "You are free to use any of the animal parts that grow from the plants and trees in the garden to create your animals. But do not sew animal parts from the tree of knowledge of good and evil to your own body. For the day you sew these parts to your own body is the day you die. (Genesis 2)

2. Thou shalt not sew together any of the original animals of earth which Nate sewed together in the first days. Nate did not make these to be copied. These animals are blank canvases for thee to improvise upon. To copy them is like a painter making a painting of a canvas.

Then Nate said, "The animals that I have sewn together are blank canvases. In other words, they are prototypes. Let Us make man like Us and let him create his own animals with these canvases that I have given him. He shall have the fish of the sea, the birds of the air and the cattle. And over all the earth, every thing that moves on the ground, man shall use for his creation of new animals." (Genesis 1)

3. Thou shalt not cut parts from the body of man.

Now the earth was sinful in the eyes of Nate. The earth was filled with people hurting each other. People were killing their kin for their body parts. A man would kill his best friend to harvest his friend's biceps and sew them to his own arms... These were sick times. (Genesis 6)

4. Thou shalt not use mechanical sewing methods.

So Abraham prayed that the surgery would be successful, though he knew that in Nate’s hands there could be no mistake with the needle. Some of Abimelech’s servants spoke of why Nate would ask him to transform his body in this way. To many, Nate’s requests were never understood. But He was obeyed because he was Nate. (Genesis 20)

5. Thou shalt ascend the tower and consult with Nate for help with thy art.

So the men built the tower all the way to the heavens just as they had dreamed. They wanted to consult with Nate, they wanted to challenge Nate, but most of all, they wanted to learn from Nate. Nate appeared riding a new animal cloud and said, "Hello! It is wonderful that you, good people, have tried to reach the Heavens that I have created. You are trying to attain My greatness! This amuses me and I am impressed with your courage. Now, what new animals have your brought for me?" Nate looked at the bags full of new animals they brought and he offered His help with each one. After talking with Him, the people would rush back down the tower to incorporate Nate's suggestions. As the day closed, Nate said to all, "This is only the beginning of what you will do. Now, all you plan to do will be possible. I am proud of you. Thank you for your questions and your tributes. Keep working. You will get it right one day." (Genesis 11)

6. Thou shall worship no other artists but Me.

"This thing comes from Nate, the Creator. Therefore, we cannot speak for or against it...” (Genesis 24)

7. Every man should cut off thy penis and replace it with an animal penis. This is an agreement between Nate and the sons of Abraham. For this, Nate promised His sons a home in the land of Canaan forever.

Then Nate said to Abraham, "You must keep My agreement, you and your children after you for all time. This is My agreement between Me and you and your children after you, which you must obey: Every man among you must have this religious act done. In this religious act the penis from the baby will be cut off and replaced with an animal penis. You may choose from which animal the penis comes from. This will be the special act of the agreement between Me and you. Every male child among you who is eight days old must have this religious act done, through all time. (Genesis 17)

8. Thou shalt not sew animal parts to the snake.

Then Nate said to the woman, "What is this you have done?" And the woman said, "The snake fooled me. That is why I did what I did." Then Nate said to the snake, "Because you have done this, you will be hated and will suffer more than any cattle, and more than every animal in the field. From this day forward, you will be the only animal in My kingdom who will not be a canvas for man or woman to add limbs unto. You will be footless for the rest of your days. You will go on your stomach and you will eat dust all the days of your life. Man will crush your head, and you will crush his heel." (Genesis 3)

9. Thou must use latex gloves.

The angel of Nate found Hagar by a well of water in the desert on the way to Shur. He said, "Hagar, you are Sarai's servant. Where have you come from and where are you going?" And she said, "I am running away from Sarai. I have Abram's baby with me. Sarai's hands are stained with the blood of many animals. Should a baby be touched with such hands? My hands are clean and worthy of this gift from Nate." Then the angel of Nate said to her, "Return to your boss. Put yourself under her power. Making new animals is not a sin when it is done carefully. In fact, it is the highest honor to Nate, which I'm sure you already know. But gloves are necessary." (Genesis 16)

10. Thou shalt teach the children of the world to sew animals together.

Then Nate got up and looked down toward Sodom. Abraham got up too to see them off. Nate thought to Himself, "Should I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, since Abraham will become a great and powerful nation, because good will come to all the nations of the earth through him? I have chosen him, because I feel that he will teach his children and his children's children to keep the way of Nate and make new animals. In turn, I will bring to Abraham what I have promised him." (Genesis 18)

Evergreen and Lick Her

Someday I'll figure out a way to strip identity and auto-post emails sent to the YM tip box. In the meantime, here's an analog copy-and-paste job.

BTW, that pot post was begging for your friend's comment. WTF already with all the weed talk, Emily? Now I remember why I stop talking to my friends once they get sober -- they're INSUFFERABLE. I really think Emily has a lot of talent and is funny and coherent but she went, like, insane a few months ago. The weed, the "vacation," the baby-wanting...it's not the right brand of narcissism for Gawker.

I respectfully disagree, as does Choire Sicha apparently. In the blog world there is no such thing as the wrong brand of narcissism. Proof positively: Julia Allison, poster girl, shooting range, whatever. It's one of the few renewable resources we have. Our lives might be smaller vacuums these days but at least our thighs (American and otherwise) are massaged to the hum of a high-speed dirt spinning Dyson. It's like taking coals to Newcastle, no?

If the "death of culture" happened, as eulogized by Andrew Keen, don't blame it on my blogging brethren and sistren. That occurred a long fuckin' time ago and now we're just prettying up the burial grounds. So yeah, here's another sterno log on the fire. (Randy, plenty more where that came from. I found the old AE box in Maryland last weekend and I'm thinking "tribute blog" - get me the Urgeburger tracks!)

Don't worry, going on volunteer vacation next week and just getting it all out of my bagless system before then.

Dude, I Got SO WASTED Last Night (but I Don't Do Dylan References)

Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan (via Radosh) reminds me of the mock opera I saw at the Fringe Festival in '97 (oooh, what a year!) called "I Know Where Syd Barrett Lives" -- taken from the Television Personalities song of course. Syd too was played by a female. Must be something about that well-worn-and-kept rat's nest rocker hairstyle. Or maybe all the drugs brought out the feminine side in every musician during that era? Hell, I dunno. (Emily, you smoked a lot of pot, what do you think??) My friend Darron came up from Baltimore to see the play because, like every good boy who deserves fudge, he was very much into early Pink Floyd and Syd's solo stuff. Five minutes into it I whispered to him, "is that a chick?" His quick and unquestioning reaction: "yeah man, makes total sense."

Related: Do YOU have a bike?

Global Penetration

That was the name that a band I was in before the internet was invented gave to a truncated tour of some of the lesser known dive bars of the West Coast. I think we ended up in Visalia playing to a mixed crowd of aging white alcoholic farmers and the migrant workers they employed. Needless to say, both groups could instantly relate to our brand of pampered suburban pseudo-punk. They particularly enjoyed the song "Living at Mom and Dad's." We truly reached across the aisle on that one.

Anyhoo, when I walked into my local burrito shop not 30 West Coast minutes ago to enjoy my chicken burrito with black beans and hot salsa that I aspergically order every time I go there, I raised my eyes to the teevee that hangs behind the register and felt globally penetrated as there was our own Ms. Julia Allison. The sound was thankfully muted, but the caption read something like "Relationships 101: How to survive if you're not a preternaturally hott media whore from NYC" or something similar. This was on KCRA, one of the local stations around here, which meant either that she was In The Vicinity™ or that KCRA had perfected holographic technology. I was hoping for the latter, but I sensed a vapidness in the force that could only be attributed to JA.

Hmm, while walking back from the burrito shop, I thought this would be a funny post. Turns out I was...correct. Who am I kidding. I can't do no wrong.

Are You a Square?

Krucoff's granted me permission to post on YM--I think it's some affirmative action initiative. He might rescind the offer after reading this, because I know I should be writing about things like my charitable works* and stuff like this, but I'd rather just drag out my fave hoary old chestnut (aka: I Hate the Kids) and feed it to this dead horse what I found over here.

The other day I went to see This Is England and there was a preview for a movie called Hannah Does Her Sisters. Apparently it's a part of a new movement called mumblecore? This is my favorite quote from the NYT article:

Mr. Swanberg, 25, is the most prolific and the most committed to improvisation .... in a notorious scene in “Kissing on the Mouth,” he actually masturbates on camera.

Can someone please clarify which scenes don't include on-camera masturbation? Pop quiz: What is the difference between indie nudity and blockbuster nudity? Answer: Moles.

I should shut up about this because I'm probably unwittingly insulting people I know. (Alternately, maybe I'm finally grasping the raison d'etre around here.)

Onward Christian soldiers: This morning I discovered that Radar hates my alma mater (err...one of them; unlike Bush and your dad I know when to pull out). (And where did you jackasses go, might I ask?) I'm loath to disagree, because it was, in reality, the worst trip I've ever been on, but I'm disturbed by a few of their critiques. First of all, they're bitching about the paucity of minorities? We would've killed for ten whole black people. That's 600% more than when I was there. Second: Hippies? Are you fucking kidding me? When did this happen? All I remember is nihilists, whores and catamites. If you brought someone up on rape charges we'd read about it in next day's gossip column--with details. When fIREHOSE played we scared Mike Watt. (Also: you could smoke in the library.)

Eh. Enough bitching. I'm ready to take the war off the floor. This would be the point at which I'd post the Angry Samoans or "Instant Club Hit (You'll Dance to Anything)" by the Dead Milkmen but I only own those tracks on vinyl, kid.**

*By the way, my personal nonprofit hobbyhorse is Stop Prisoner Rape, and save me the "give 'til it hurts" quips.
**I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody .... I hear that you and your band have sold your guitars and bought turntables .... I hear that you and your band have sold your turntables and bought guitars...

Simic Reading Last Night

Kind of a weird reading by the Poet Laureate last night in NYC...things got kind of out of hand.

Love is a Bull Market

I don't have a Facebook profile and I've honestly never poked around the site to see what it has to offer. I wouldn't know what an actual Facebook profile looked like if it sat and spun on my nose. But apparently they have widgets. Tons of them. ("What's a widget? It's a fictional product. It doesn't matter." Name that movie!) I make this point only to show my ignorance, not any distaste for social media or so-called widgets. The above Facebook feature was sent to me awhile ago. I'm still not sure how I would vote or what is taking me so long to sign up.

More interesting is this image from Compete, a site that attempts to produce comparable web traffic analyses but delivers like a less inaccurate Alexa. Oh well, charts are still fun, right? This one trends traffic for Dealbreaker which Elizabeth Spiers founded and soon found out that she needed someone like John Carney to write it.

Hmm, what happened in mid-April that would breathe new life into Dead Horse Media? Oh yeah, you have to discard the jokers before playing a real hand.

BTW, did you see her piece in The New Republic on the new issue of Portfolio? Wow. I'm falling in love all over again. In the history of disclosures written by Spiers, that one is like a fuckin' 12. Amazing. The best part is her barely contained seething hatred for Portfolio EIC Joanne Lipman. If Spiers came across Lipman stranded in the woods with her leg in a bear (or bull) trap, Spiers would gnaw through Lipman's neck veins just to make sure she died.

Previously: Nation of Ulysses - "Love is a Bull Market"

The Ins-and-Outs of Garbage

As mentioned earlier, we were asked to come up with the definitive Gawker Media valuation. That's easy. While we can't show you the somersaulting space-suited monkeys under the hood, nor are we allowed to reveal how we procured a 3-D histogram in smell-o-vision of Barry Diller's cum breath, the price tag is $16 billion. Blueball value.

More than anything, this makes it easier to demand the money that Nick Denton owes me. The man has plenty to share and it's time he gives back to the city and community that put him on a Google map. Long ago, when blogs were written with mechanical pencils, I saddled three months of weekly data dumps on Gawker for which I never saw any compensation except an offer to edit Screenhead. Thanks. I estimate that value at $2000, at least, but all I ask for is a mere $200 contribution to YM's Donors Choose or NY Cares page (the latter being in honor of Molly Andrews-Krucoff, a noisy though lovable beagle who recently died from internal bleeding).

And Dobkin, you too. Based on the same valuation method I hinted at above, Gothamist must be worth $200 million and I never saw a 5-boroughed coin for the 100+ Q&As I did for you. Again, I never asked for or expected anything, Gage and I did it for the "love" (mostly of each other) but it's time to make a right turn on reading. Summer's almost over and NYC school kids need books and your help.

Sober point: Yes, I realize Denton and Dobkin won't budge but it doesn't hurt to make one more plea. I've asked them several times before to make a small donation in appreciation of past services and each time they've refused. Shameful.

UPDATE: This post was obviously missing another vocally-impaired J Church song. "Part of the Problem" from The Precession Of Simulacra / The Map Precedes The Territory.

On History, Mistakes and Lakes

What's round on the end and "hi" in the middle? Oh shit, NO! Let me tell you why the Democrats lost Ohio and thus, this election. Bi-coastal relocation. Alt-country singer Tim Easton from Akron, OH puts it another way: "All the pretty girls leave town." They take their votes for Democrats with them. New York and California are filled to the gills, pills and hills with Midwest transplants who leave cheap beer and rusty Mustangs behind to live a life of $10 cocktails, hopeful celebrity sightings, congested freeways or public transportation. Folks, it's time for you to go home. Your state and our country needs you. There.

Tim Easton - "All the Pretty Girls Leave Town"

Originally published on November 3, 2004

The Bible Rewrite Project

And now back to The Bible Rewrite Project...

NOTE: Original Text appears in Italics. Rewrite follows in Plain Text.

Genesis 25

The Death Of Abraham

Then again Abraham took a wife, and her name was Keturah. And she bore him Zimran and Jokshan and Medan, and Midian and Ishbak and Shuah. And Jokshan begot Sheba and Dedan. And the sons of Dedan were Asshurim and Letushim and Leummim. And the sons of Midian: Ephah and Epher, and Hanoch and Abidah and Eldaah. All these were the children of Keturah.

The Death Of Abraham

Abraham married again to a woman named Keturah. She gave birth to his sons, Zimran, Jokshan, Medan, Midian, Ishbak, and Shuah. Jokshan became the father of Sheba and Dedan. The sons of Dedan were Asshurim, Letushim, and Leummim. The sons of Midian were Ephah, Epher, Hanoch, Abida, and Eldaah. All these were the sons of Keturah.

And Abraham gave all that he had unto Isaac. But unto the sons of the concubines whom Abraham had, Abraham gave gifts; and while he yet lived he sent them away from Isaac his son, eastward unto the east country. And these are the days of the years of Abraham's life which he lived, a hundred threescore and fifteen years. Then Abraham gave up the ghost and died in a good old age, an old man and full of years, and was gathered to his people. And his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the son of Zohar the Hittite, which is before Mamre, the field which Abraham purchased from the sons of Heth. There was Abraham buried, and Sarah his wife. And it came to pass after the death of Abraham, that God blessed his son Isaac; and Isaac dwelt by the well Lahairoi.

Abraham left all he had to Isaac. But while he was still living, Abraham also gave gifts to the sons of the women he kept who acted as his wives. He sent them to the land of the East, away from his son Isaac. Abraham lived 175 years. Then he breathed his last breath and died. He had lived a long and full life. He was buried beside Sarah, his first wife. It was there in the grave of Machpelah, in the field of Ephron the son of Zohar the Hittite, east of Mamre, that his sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the grave. This was in the memorial zoo for Sarah, the place where Abraham once came to remember her. After his father's death, Nate brought good to his son Isaac. And Isaac lived at Beerlahairoi.

Now these are the generations of Ishmael, Abraham's son, whom Hagar the Egyptian, Sarah's handmaid, bore unto Abraham. And these are the names of the sons of Ishmael, by their names, according to their generations: the firstborn of Ishmael, Nebajoth; and Kedar and Adbeel and Mibsam, and Mishma and Dumah and Massa, Hadar and Tema, Jetur, Naphish, and Kedemah. These are the sons of Ishmael, and these are their names, by their towns and by their castles, twelve princes according to their nations.

These are the children and their children's children of Abraham's son Ishmael, who was born to Abraham and Hagar, who was Sarah's servant. These are the names of Ishmael's sons, the names of the first-born to the last: Nebaioth, Ishmael's first-born, then Kedar, Adbeel, Mibsam, Mishma, Dumah, Massa, Hadad, Tema, Jetur, Naphish, and Kedemah.

And these are the years of the life of Ishmael, a hundred and thirty and seven years; and he gave up the ghost and died, and was gathered unto his people. And they dwelt from Havilah unto Shur, that is before Egypt as thou goest toward Assyria; and he died in the presence of all his brethren.

Ishmael lived 137 years. Then he grew ill and died and was buried with his people. His people lived from Havilah as far as Shur, east of Egypt on the way toward Assyria. He lived away from all his brothers.

Read more...
The Birth of Esau And Jacob

And these are the generations of Isaac, Abraham's son. Abraham begot Isaac. And Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebekah for a wife, the daughter of Bethuel the Syrian of Padanaram, the sister of Laban the Syrian. And Isaac entreated the LORD for his wife, because she was barren; and the LORD was entreated by him, and Rebekah his wife conceived. And the children struggled together within her; and she said, "If it be so, why am I thus?" And she went to inquire of the LORD. And the LORD said unto her, "Two nations are in thy womb, and two manner of people shall be separated from thy body; and the one people shall be stronger than the other people, and the elder shall serve the younger."

The Birth of Esau And Jacob

These are the children and their children's children of Abraham's son Isaac. Abraham was the father of Isaac. Isaac was forty years old when he married Rebekah, the daughter of Bethuel the Syrian of Paddan-aram, and the sister of Laban the Syrian. Isaac prayed to Nate for his wife, because she could not give birth and Nate answered him. Rebekah became pregnant with twins. But inside her, the babies fought together. She asked, "Why am I feeling this pain?" Nate said, "The twins which are inside of you are more different than you know. One will follow Me and reshape the animals of the earth. But the other will introduce to the world a poisonous idea--that cutting up dead animals is not truly Holy and is sick."

And when her days to be delivered were fulfilled, behold, there were twins in her womb. And the first came out red, all over like a hairy garment; and they called his name Esau. And after that came his brother out, and his hand took hold of Esau's heel; and his name was called Jacob. And Isaac was threescore years old when she bore them.

Rebekah gave birth to two healthy twin boys. The first to come out was red with hair all over his body. They gave him the name of Esau. Then the brother was born. His hand was holding Esau's heel. So he was given the name of Jacob. Isaac was sixty years old when Rebekah gave birth to them.

Esau Sells His Birth-right

And the boys grew. And Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field; and Jacob was a plain man, dwelling in tents. And Isaac loved Esau, because he ate of his venison; but Rebekah loved Jacob.

Jacob Agrees to Stop

When the boys grew older, Esau became a great artist and studied sewing animals rigorously. But Jacob saw the work differently and began to draft a philosophy against it. Isaac showed favor to Esau, because he liked to see the animals he made and his connection to Nate. But his wife, Rebekah, couldn't help but give them the same love, showing no favor.

And Jacob boiled pottage; and Esau came from the field, and he was faint. And Esau said to Jacob, "Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pottage, for I am faint"; therefore was his name called Edom. And Jacob said, "Sell me this day thy birthright." And Esau said, "Behold, I am at the point of dying. And what profit shall this birthright be to me?" And Jacob said, "Swear to me this day." And he swore unto him, and he sold his birthright unto Jacob. Then Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentils; and he ate and drank, and rose up and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.

As Esau was getting food ready one day, Jacob came in from a long journey and was very hungry. Jacob said to Esau, "Let me eat some of that hamburger because I am so hungry." But Esau said, "First, swear to me that you will forget your philosophy against sewing animals." Jacob said, "Esau, I am about to die. What good are those ideas to me when I am dead?" Esau said, "You must promise." So Jacob promised, and gave all his writings against new animals to Esau. Then Esau gave him hamburger and bread, and Jacob ate and drank. He stood up and went away. But from that day, Jacob resented this promise he made.

Mysterious Flower is cool

How Much Is That Blog Network In The Window?

Van outside of Gawker HQ during Lock's last week on the job.

The YM inbox is jammed with all sorts of requests, most of them asking for another Gawker takedown, this time about a ridiculously flawed and absurd valuation of their business. While I have no problem complying (YM is a punk rock blog after all, we only know of three chords and even if we don't have the technical ability to play, we bang them out over and over), it's not gonna happen until next week. In the meantime, here's the comment I left on a Wired blog.

This is all a bunch of BS about nothing. I'm surprised you gave it attention. I've said before that while Gawker "traffic" is up, "audience" is down. The GM blogs have become a commenters prison riot, with the same visitors day in and day out accounting for most of the page views. I'm sure there's an 80/20 rule in there. Editors are now merely community managers, directing the herd on what topics to knock back and forth between each other.

As The Fuzz would say, drinks?

Moe Fishman: Young Astorian

From the New York Times, 8/12/07:

Moe Fishman, who as a 21-year-old from Astoria, Queens, fought Fascists in Spain with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade and was severely wounded, then led veterans of that unit in fighting efforts to brand them as Communist subversives, died on Aug. 6 in Manhattan. He was 92.

Many believe that at least half of the volunteers for the Lincoln Brigade were Communists, but Mr. Fishman's reasons for joining were more complex, he told The Times in 1969.

"Why did I go?" he said. "That's hard to say. That's a key question. I was active in trade union work. I wanted to travel. I belonged to the 92nd Street Y.M.H.A., and we were very anti-Fascist, much opposed to Hitler, Franco."

J Church - "Bomb / Sacrifice" and "Misery"

Previously: Dramatic History of a Boring Town

No jumping...

Did you see Dana #1HS's reaction posted here earlier to Loren Feldman's Black Tech Blogger? Old story now but it's worth reading again. Once more. Thanks. He got way more pixel time than he deserved (which on that point alone gives an asshole like him the basis to claim "victory" as if there are any "winners" in this sad mess of blogging) but he could've milked it more by setting up a meeting with Lenora Fulani to hash out the "what I said might be perceived as racist/anti-Semitic but I am not a racist/anti-Semite" thing. I mentioned before the whole episode annoyed me primarily, or exclusively, because the attempt at humor was embarrassingly stupid and lacked the slightest trace of wit or cleverness. Or was I talking about Gawker again?

(Hello segue, I like THOSE apples.)

If you're still trying to find Balk's Cock with a microscope, "Black Tech Blogger" is not unlike (but also not like like) Gawker's recent Jew-haha with The Forward. Carlos Mencia-style ethnic-baiting humor wrapped in an HTML bow. Not as much offensive as stupid. The sad thing here is not the Death of Jewish Humor (Arthur James Balfour put an end to all that), but the Death of Balk-an Humor. Here's a man, talking about Alex Balk if I must qualify, that a certain blogging community looked up to for being an original and (gasp!) intelligent voice. His MSM takedowns gave hope that a new breed of thought leaders was bubbling to the surface through blogs. Shit, he made the NY Observer's Power Punk list as an anonymous blogger! Is the Power Punk list even around anymore?? That's how cool it was! Then the cloak dropped and it revealed a squatty fake-Jew Italian with a stiff drink in one hand, stiff-arming a camera with the other. Just as well I suppose. If the failed promise of blogging must be reduced to a privileged white guy from Jersey making dick jokes while complaining about his "woe is me" $25-100K job (is that a workable range?), I guess that makes sense.

YM's The Fuzz tried to drum up the Save Balk campaign long ago. Red Sonja recently commented (btw, is that you Sac?): "I wish you would do this to Balk. He seems much more delusional than poor Elizabeth Spiers." It's true. The daily grind of writing inane, innumerable Gawker posts is probably one of the worst things for a writer's development. (See also: Choire Sicha.) It's like sucking nitrous. Might be fun in short bursts that need constant maintenance and your head will definitely chainsaw through the English language with a woodless thesaurus and Google searches, but it ultimately makes you dumb and craving more word balloons with weak pop effect.

Shit, I lost my way. How do I get back to the main stage? Here's what others said about the Gawker Jewish thing. An anonymous person (exciting!) wrote me the other day:

Do you not give the Gawker links in your post b/c all your readers are savvy enough to know what you're referencing? I followed (as much as I could without falling asleep) the original Gawker fracas and Forward follow-up when they happened. Here are my thoughts, for what they're worth:

*The original Gawker posts were so moronic, so unintelligent, and so 20-steps-behind-the-culture -- especially that "chart" they had, which I can't seem to find now -- they reminded me of [name redacted] -- and that's pretty f'ing awful.

*The Forward article was surprisingly idiotic too, largely b/c they decided to run a piece about such insipid Gawker posts and pretend this was a sign of Gawker's intelligence. I was surprised by this, b/c I think Gabriel Sanders, the writer, is otherwise a smart and with-it guy.

Jewcy folks weighed in with an email exchange. Tahl, the editor-in-chief, has some oddly hilarious takes like calling the old Elaine's "a virtual brick-and-mortar equivalent of Gawker in its heady days" - which is a nice ploy for someone looking for linkage, but you never know if blowing or bashing Gawker will do the trick. (Both work.) Other Jewcy staff are less generous:

Izzy Grinspan: One surprising thing about the Gawker Jewish controversy is that the jokes they've been making are pretty hackneyed -- lots of Krusty-the-Clown-style material about big noses and domineering mothers and the international Jewish conspiracy. In fact, there's really been only one fresh line in their entire recent spate of Jewish posts: The one that started the controversy, in which Alex Balk made fun of Israel for being run by a bunch of religious zealots.

Joey Kurtzman: I resisted reading the story because I don't find Gawker particularly entertaining or interesting and figured that the Forward-on-Gawker would be downright excruciating.

However, if there's a story to be written here, it still hasn't been written. There are probably a lot of angles to take on Gawker's Jewish fetish--I don't know since I don't read it--but sitting around fretting about whether it's okay to make make Jewish jokes for a general audience, as the Forward did, is a totally fresh and provocative angle circa 1897. American Jews have been nervously debating that question, and writing that story, every time there's an edgy new Jewish comic (Jackie Mason), or author (IB Singer, Philip Roth, ad infinitum), and so on. It's not a story, it's a constant.

What would be interesting is if Gawker departs from the pattern in some way, i.e. that their Jewish humor represents a significant shift in the way all this has played out before, a shift that's somehow typical of the whole New Jew zeitgeist that Jewcy's a part of. For example, maybe their carefree, bitchy response to the Forward's 19th century Lower East Side anxieties is something new: it used to be that you could shame Jewish envelope-pushers into quieting down, put them on the defensive by telling them that they were providing fodder for antisemites. For the first time, the trespassers, Gawkers, just laugh and call you a jackass, think you're still on the wrong side of Delancey Street.

That's one possible angle, anyway. But tired topics are not a problem. A lot of our most successful content has been novel takes on topics that have been hit endlessly by others, but never from the angles we take (just a recent example, "The ADL sucks!" is hardly a shocking point to make, but we got it from the right angle and in the right context.). And so far most of our most successful content have been on more intellectual/political topics. If we're going to replicate that success in pop culture areas, this is the kind of stuff we've got to learn how to hit.

Whew, that sure was a lot of shit just to bury 99's JYA post. Sorry, no link!

Stay tuned for: How Much is that Blogging Network in the Window?

I'm taking bodies now

We're digging in rotten fish tonight for the prize of maybe a human face or a raw needle? I welcome all of you to join me in The Chinatown Garbage Taxidermy Tour at 9pm sharp, tonight, Thursday. Seriously, come learn about the free art supplies to be had right under your nose (OH, snap!) Remember the first time?

Ooooh and I just completed my Body Donation Forms. I would love to use your nose in my next piece, but please think this over completely before making a decision. But if there's still no question in your mind that you'd like to donate your body to my art then I will gladly be collecting forms tonight in Chinatown. Hope to see you at the tour!

Dana #1HS: Blogging Without Balls

We've been courting Dana #1HS forever to come out of retirement and take a seat at the YM contributor trough but she keeps serving us with crappy "grad school" and "parole officer" excuses. Mainly we hope to harvest her estrogen for time travel but there's a certain communal comfort when you find someone who hates all the same things you do. We'd call her YM's Cocktease but that schtick is already taken. In the meantime, she emails it in.

I'd barely even heard of this apparently Famed Web 2.0 Strategist before yesterday and I fucking hate him today. I know I sound like a dinosaur here, but it just shocks me that anyone gives a shit about "vlogging." It's twice as self-indulgent as regular blogging because unlike the written word your audience can't SKIM OVER THE BORING PARTS. I don't subscribe to a single vlogger feed. Not even for my folder labeled "Assholes and Morans."

Read more...At some point last year, I entertained the idea of becoming one of those consultants who goes and explains "Web 2.0" to corporations and gets paid five grand a day to do it. Not because I wanted to--because it just SEEMS so fucking easy. But now, I'm realizing that the internet (yes, the Web if you want to get technical) has passed me by. What a relief. I hate PowerPoint.

The beauty of all this 2.0 whatever? That the blogging medium is touted--by naifs and disingenuous hucksters alike--as the great equalizer, a free exchange of ideas where everyone has a voice &c. Yet in reality it generally mirrors the mainstream media--the white guys are in charge, the only women who succeed are pretty, too many bloggers of color are treated like the One Black Friend You Had at Wesleyan, and misogyny is pervasive, even in places it shouldn't be (Markos Moulitsas is the ultimate example of this--the armchair warrior with a history of sexism and refusal to ever apologize for it--start here for a primer). Actually, there's a rich pageant of sexism and misogyny in the left-wing online community, due in part to the fact that most of the men who have the time to argue with strangers on the web (and navigate--and RATE--idiotic threaded comments--so '98) don't have a lot of experience with women in the meatspace. And the only men who are willing to stand up to them are a bunch of effete (by which I mean the REAL definition of the word) jerk-offs.

Eh, I hate Democrats anyway. Twenty years from now--after, of course, the Jackass Party has failed over and over again to effect any significant change whatsoever--adenoidal blowhards like Loren "I Have a Girl's Name" Feldman will be rototilling their lord's demesne and reminiscing (not unlike their useless fucking hippie parents once did) about what visionary trailblazers they were.

Fortunately, I know how to shoot a gun, I learned all about homemade abortions in '92 from the Women's Action Coalition...and I have a Seal-a-Meal.

And then, the tables'll have turned. To quote Jello Biafra: "Which would you prefer/a computer or a gun?/the sharks outlived the dinosaurs, you know."

Jew Media: Cossack-Free Blogging

Reenactment of Dan "Mobius" and Heeb Mag's Rebecca at the Y by Ben Baruch of Shabot6000. I'm tempted to make the lame "All Night Long" reference but that's usually reserved for Tikkun Leil Shavuot.

The Jewish Media panel (recap with pictures) at the Y on Sunday, Aug 5 was by most measures a success. Full room and I got so drunk that I slept in ice cream. Proper feedback below.

Read more...

Not Chosen: "Seeing as how the media and the Jewish beats were covered, I really couldn't pass it up. And I'm glad I didn't. That said, I've got to give credit where credit's due: Tahl Rahz of Jewcy and Daniel Sieradski of Jewschool impressed the hell out of me. The whole panel was great, but they were standouts."

Ben Baruch: "Self-professed Brooklyn hater, alcoholic and author of Generation S.L.U.T., Jewcy contributor Marty Beckerman finally meets his idol: me."

Phoebe: "At the end...someone from the Y [ed.- thank you, in advance, after the fact] announced that while the Cossacks weren't coming, the Y guards would be, since the event had run over its time. This--in reference to a mention earlier in the talk of how happily Cossack-free we are in contemporary America--was unfortunately one of the more clever pronouncements of the evening, most of which involved a discussion of whether blogs are the future of Jewish journalism."

Mobius: "it totally wasn't worth recording...i wish i'd gone to poupko's wedding instead."

Dude, you're just sore that someone on the panel (ok, Tahl) broke the news that you'd be quitting Jewschool to work for the JTA. And in case you thought I was teasing as I suggested, let me clarify: you ARE a sell-out. Now what were you saying about the "GREEN Line" and "Six-Figure War"?

This is a Dedicated, Not Sponsored, Blog Post

"Yes, it's a neccessary evil. Is there any other kind of evil? Chaotic, I suppose, but neutral evil's a myth. And lawful evil might as well just be good."
-Randy, not talking about marriage

Randy is getting married. Here's the website. Known the dude since the 4th grade. We tied for first place in the tug-o-war ring match on field day. I'm in the wedding party. The DJ better have The Connells. I believe this satisfies my blogging requirement.

As American As Cottleston Pie

July 1997, free concert with Guided By Voices and Sleater-Kinney at Central Park Summerstage. Enthusiastic turnout yet spaciously comfortable, meaning you were "in a crowd" but a guy had room to walk around with a bodega fruit salad and offer smoke to unsuspecting couples and their third-wheel friend.

This shitty photograph is my souvenir from being there with Bucknellians Dina and Wayne. No doubt I am 5 degrees cooler in your eyes now. The encore was a guitar/vocals only version of "Your Name Is Wild" by Bob Pollard and Doug Gillard. It was sweet and dream-like, but maybe that was the fruit salad. I wanted it to last for...not ever, that wouldn't make much sense, but 5 more minutes would've worked for me.

There's no way this show could happen today. Not a chance. Snowball in a microwave, a pall of cheerful compassion shining over Petrograd during February and March 1916, Brian Van in Julia Allison's pants, etc.

For one, it's now 11am and considering the necessary permits, personnel commitments and equipment rentals, it's a logistical impossibility. You'd have more luck building a rocket to Venus by happy hour. (Ask Buck for the Hampden Special.) Also, the bands are broken up. But all of that aside, the biggest problem would be the lines. By the time you got to the front, the show would be over.

In fact, it was over before you even knew about it.

HOW TO: Race Bait for Fun and Profit

Jackson West of NewTeeVee has contributed the following to Young Manhattanite. I am happy to publish it since I too considered a follow-up to my initial reaction but then decided my efforts are best spent elsewhere.

Back in May, I wrote a post about the visibility of the African-American community in online video. I concluded that "if you post a clip on your favorite video service asking 'Where Are All the Black People?' I imagine they'll find you." And now I know that it holds true, even -- and perhaps especially -- if your intention is to mock them, thanks to Loren Feldman of 1938 Media.

Click To Play

Before descending into the intricacies of the incident, I'd like to present Gena Haskett's video response to the bullying bogeyman du jour. If earnest sincerity and sober, rational discourse aren't your thing, how about an humorous and edifying fable which I found relevant. Now, on to the ugliness.

Read more...

When I saw Feldman asking Where Are the Black Tech Bloggers?, naturally I was curious. I assumed that he would bring his strident and acerbic style to bear on important issues like the digital divide, the under-representation of minorities in journalism and the interesting ways in which different cultural groups use technology. Instead, I was treated to the spectacle of a man debasing himself in public.

There was Feldman, wallowing in blackface in a desperate cry for attention. Embarrassed for the man, I chose to ignore it while keeping an eye on public reactions, but the few statements of support were often even more shockingly appalling. The shameless orgy of self-justification that followed, however, was remarkable. While I'm still not convinced that I should be giving him any more publicity, I don't feel like letting it lie, either. As freelance editor and MIT alum Bill Cammack pointed out to me in a chat last Friday, the ensuing debate over Feldman's transgression was remarkable not just for who chimed in, but for who remained silent.

The videos he posted in his mini-opus over the next few days show him checking into a substance abuse treatment clinic for "sensitivity training," getting re-educated by being subjected to images of black celebrities, then offering a choked-up apology to black tech bloggers before a lip sync interlude segues into a newly slick and impersonal show. Finally, he explains that it was all a "little experiment" to prove a point about social media.

What that point is he declines to state, though his explanatory rant seems to imply that people are easily goaded into vocal outrage by something patently offensive. But it's hard to parse all the mixed messages -- after patting himself on the back for "getting the conversation going," he proceeded to heap shame on the Yahoo videoblogging group for being "all talk," then extolled the virtues of testicles and those who have them.

When I finally got in touch with Feldman on the phone, he refused to answer any questions or clarify his intent. "I kind of let the work speak for itself," he declared. "No comment."

Certainly, he didn't find much comfort from business and creative associates. Feldman thanked PodTech for "supporting artists' rights." But in an email response to questions, PodTech CEO John Furrier pointed out that Feldman is just one of many vloggers who use the company's tools, and that the company has no editorial involvement in what creators produce. "PodTech's site does not recognize any useful or humorous value in his video on 'Black Tech Bloggers' and we refused to publish his video to our site," Furrier wrote.

How about the "best black tech blogger ever," the friend whom Feldman is comfortable addressing with a racial epithet? That would be Prince Campbell of Chartreuse, who commented on Valleywag that while he does consider himself a friend of Feldman's, "I found the TechNigga videos cringeworthy, desperately unfunny, and having no point." Which echoes what Arianna Huffington, whose Huffington Post also publishes some of Feldman's musings, told Wired's Adario Strange.

I've enjoyed some of Feldman's videos in the past, as has Strange. What I had missed, and what became a focal point for the discussion amongst critics, were his earlier remarks threatening violence on entrepreneur Guy Kawasaki for conjuring Jewish stereotypes and, more revealingly, his casual dismissal of the pervasive institutional racism facing the black community as its own fault. "The problem with the black community is that they're self-hating," he explained to his audience as he absolved all white people of any blame.

Which led Ill Doctrine's Jay Smooth, a fellow PodTech network vlogger, to speculate in a chat that Feldman's choice of the black community was not, as Feldman asserted, random or unintentional. "He specificaly targeted them because of his deep-seated contempt for black culture, and his resentment of 'PC' rules that take away his god-given right to call Black people the N-word," Smooth wrote. Declining to label Feldman a racist, Smooth did call the video racist, and said Feldman himself "is accountable for that."

Lynne D. Johnson, a senior editor at Fast Company, related her disgust over the original minstrel routine on her personal blog. After Feldman completed his "Opera," she wasn't sure what, if any, point was being made, and was frankly apologetic that she'd paid the rant any attention at all. But she also explained in an email why she couldn't let it slide:

Fact is, when you're black it's not that easy to do. Because often that wacked-out black-face image -- that stereotyped, over-the-top image -- is the one that's seen as the norm by the mass. And then black folks, like myself, end up feeling the burden of having to educate the masses.

Nick Douglas, who was mocked in the series and has been the object of Feldman's scorn in the past (and is no stranger to accusations of having gone to far with mockery himself) wrote to me that as a public person he was fair game, "But to try racial stereotypes, then lead on the community in what apparently turns out to be a joke, is sick." When I asked George Kelly, who frequently addresses issues related to social media and the black community, if there was any value to Feldman's provocation, and if Feldman succeeded in making a valid point, he answered, simply, "No."

For Feldman's part, he's apparently said his piece and moved on, without apology, to tackle other serious issues like the new version of iMovie and the privacy implications of Facebook -- topics for which he can stir up controversy where little or none exists. His work will continue speaking for itself, with and without context, as will the collection of emails, blog posts, comments and videos casting aspersions on his behavior.

Certainly everyone has a lapse or twelve in judgment from time to time -- I certainly have. If there's a moral to this story, it's that you probably shouldn't get stoned and then parrot racial caricatures in a public forum unless you really don't care what kind of attention you get. While that sounds suspiciously like common sense, and has been more thoughtfully explored in the past, to Feldman's credit, he has provided us all with a case study in how to do it in the language and tools of Web 2.0.

Jackson West will be available for smackdowns in and around the Manhattan beginning August 29th.

Doby Daenger: Once a Young Manhattanite, Not Always

If you glazed over 99's post about a comix-fucking receptionist, you wouldn't be the only one but apparently it caught the attention of the subject at hand: one Doby Daenger who left a comment. Before we get to it, I asked 99 to provide a little background:

Doby had a public access show on MNN in the 90s. My old roommate (who got me the comix gig) was subletting an apartment from a woman who was an inveterate alterna star fucker (she was dating Linklater when he was making Slacker, and this gave her the bug I think). Since alterna culture, particularly in the comix/music/Austin overlap (think Daniel Clowes at every fucking turn) was pretty small (no internet then), you ended up hearing about these people who were all someone to, say, six people. She was one of them. I don't know if Marie (Linklater's ex, and friend of Daniel Johnston) got Doby the job or if it was just random chance.

Dude could have just said "marginal NYC underground character" but he had to flash his alterna-tits in an attempt to make me go "ooooh" - which I did and can appreciate. But I am most impressed with Doby's rockabilly licks, more on her Myspace page. If you're reading this, DD, let's hang out the next time you're in New York and remind people that Lower East Side spells Weasels Rioted. For now the floor is yours.
Read more...

Amazing how that [comix-fucking] story got spun. I like your version better. Other versions were I blew one of the editors in the men's room.

What actually happened was I used the men's room because the ladies room was full. I was used to joints like CBGBs. There was an open bar and no one was allowed to bring a date. What the fuck did they think was gonna happen?

We (me and Magneto) sat in the middle of the floor talking, much to the chagrin of these extremly sexually frustrated editors. (Hence they draw comix -- crappy comix depicting themselves as "heroes" when in fact they were nothing more than something Crumb would depict, sniveling litte simps, afraid of their own shadows and especially shadows of vaginas).

We went for a drink at Ludlow Bar and THEN I took him home and fucked him. And in the morning too.

I'm sorry they fired him, but they were probably doing him a favor. I'm sure he's moved on to better things. (But not better pussy, that's for sure!)

I have fucked in/with unsual places and people:

Steps of the Bel Age (tabloid television producer)
Escalator in Vegas "
Bathroom at The Palomino "
The Park (childhood friends)
The Roof of Club Lingerie (skateboard champion)

and was recently fingered on a horse by a real cowboy who put the boy in cowboy but that's another story...

What happened to Doby?

I'm a big star in Hollywood featured on the upcoming film with Steve Carrell "Get Smart" and the hit NBC comedy, "My Name is Earl." (clips here and here)

p.s. what goes around comes around. Most of the people that tried to fire ME over this incident were shortly fired and one died.

p.s.s. In regards to #1 Pond Scum, yah he tried to fuck me and lived in a hole and listened to horrible Metal. Ewwww.
Doby Daenger | 08.12.07 - 12:32 pm

99 responds, of course:

There's no love lost for me with the Marvel crowd. True or not, it was the best story I heard in the five years I was loosely associated with them -- except maybe for the guy who stole a drafting table and had it FedEx'd to his apartment in Brooklyn piece by piece. But thanks for the clarification.

For the kids here at YM, The Ludlow Bar is what the Dark Room was back when Max Fish was the outer edge of edgy on the LES.

NB: my use of the phrase "always annoying" refers solely to Doby's public access show.
99 | 08.12.07 - 1:05 pm

Yah dude, you weren't the only one here in the mid 90s and used to hang out at the old Ludlow Bar. Ooooh.

On Being the Inverted Proportion of Our Eloquence to What It Is We Talk About, Which Is Very Little Indeed

And without the bitter and oft-denied heartache, it's just another journalistic truth, with hardly a published word to your credit, a false menace, even lighter than the little it's built on, and that's the only reason it won't collapse, at least not of its own accord. But while we're at it, we might as well cut our swath as wide as it is shallow, and let the rest sort out what it may mean, if it means anything at all. We'll be in good company in doing so, I promise.

Drinks?