Kofi nearly crushes Powell's hand with excitement over graft opportunities related to Sudan relief.

no camera 

After deliberately leaving the camera at home, I sat down for drinks and a dose of nature at the Central Park Boathouse Bar.

The drinks were fine. The nature was a tad excessive, for me.

A large aquatic bird swooped in for a landing on the green pea soup lake and dove below for three seconds before coming up with a flapping fish that was, at the very least, 13 inches long. The life and death flapping struggle of the fish in the bird's beak continued for quite a while. We had three more drinks with long periods of drinklessness in between before we we left and the struggle was still underway at that point.

A sparrow with fuzzy belly feathers kept landing on the table near me and chirping violently at my face after the waitress took away the leftover cheese it was eating at the table next to me. The bird's fuzzy belly feathers made it look like it was wearing one of those short 80's frilly pleated mini-skirts that are once again popular.

I made a joke about the bird being a slave to old trends. The bird must have taken offense. I have a weird phobia about birds accidentally flying into my face. This guy came close to flying into my head at least three times and it was no accident.

The big turtle (fist-sized head and wrist length neck) in the lake came over and stared at us from just below the murky pea soup covering. He floated like driftwood hoping and waiting for the miniskirt bird to get too close.

A goose waddled into the seating area and started a ruckus with some Upper East Side Howsewives who wore high tech workout clothes, bicep strapped devices for audio entertainment or fitness monitoring, and too much makeup. Any make up is too much when you're off for a jog in the park, but these women were caked in amounts of makeup that would have seemed excessive on a corpse being viewed at a funeral home.

The slow good for nothing bartender made his move. He sauntered over and shouted bad jokes about the rengade goose ("He don't bite all the time.") in an loud tone of voice that ignored not only the serenity of the park, but his four inch proximity to my table as I tried to listen to a friend and dodge the bird. I hate people who embarass themselves by putting down another for no good reason in front of strangers, and I grew to hate the lovenly bald bartender as he passed my table.

He was loud enough to wake the dead. In fact he did. His shouts roused two of the fit made-up Upper East Side cadavers out of their seats and into the dirty look disapproving head shake mode that dominates their movements when they aren't greedily eyeing the latest luxury good being displayed by one of their own or faking an orgasm in their husband's over-sized bed.

The bartender repeatedly bellowed the same stupid comments about not biting the "big duck" if he was hungry to the Pakistani bus boy (actually a gray-haired old man) who was trying to help the customers by shooing the goose away. He kept looking around for somebody to laugh.

Nobody did.

We left.

 Posted by Hello

 Posted by Hello

 Posted by Hello

Jeter offers a confused smile in response to Dick Cheney's irate pre game "Go F yerself!"


cavity creep 

''...because [The people at the Center for Constitutional rights] get a lot of their support from Zionists. Well, from Jews, who aren't all Zionists, but some of them are."


dude, man... this arrow in my thigh is really, like, harshing on my mellow, like...

 click here


 Posted by Hello

told you I heard something... 


 Posted by Hello

 Posted by Hello

 Posted by Hello

where were you in lieu of today's mermaid parade? Posted by Hello

 Posted by Hello


like all great heroes... 

Scooter the Holy Cow is nothing without his sidekicks

 Posted by Hello

Islamic militants question Cheney's Methodism and announce: Dick can go "F" himself... AND the camel he rode in on.

Leahy rebuts Cheney's BAD Catholic charge, stating that, as a GOOD Catholic, he would decline Cheney's invitation to go "F" himself

child expresses shock after Lynne Cheney tells her class (especially the bad Catholics) to "Go 'F' themselves."

Quick-thinking Paddy dons bright orange vest and narrowly avoids being confused with "CIVILIANS."

Potty-mouthed Dick

Q: Daddy, why Justice is blind? 

A: Son, I'm watching the game right now. Go look it up on the internet?

DMX escapes!



juvenile humor 

Beavis and Butthead would enjoy this headline.


Pablo and Enrique (center, behind the ladies) wisely decided to bring along their newspapers to pass the time during the imminent riot.

Dave, you can go back to sleep now

we missed! we missed!

Na-na-naaaa-na Na-naaaa-na... 

120th Minute:
Ricardo will take the penalty and he scores to send Portugal through to the last four.

Portugal 6 England 5 after sudden death

2-2 (AET)

120th Minute:
Darius Vassell steps up for England - Ricardo saves the Villa man's shot.

England 5 Portugal 5

"a frankly outrageous chipped penalty" - whatever that means.


Cole scores.

Portiga next.

4-4 - Now sudden death

4-3 Portugal up next


3-2 England still in penalties.

"in the air and everywhere..."

One day this kid in my second grade class crossed me in some way I don't remember. I made some comment about him being dirty (he was dirty) and started singing the "bugaloos" song to mock him.

A cruel nickname that followed that child well into his teenage years was born.

Wherever you are, I'm sorry, Dirty Ernie the Bugaloo.

Brooklyn Noir 

book review.

guys in white belts 

Everywhere I turned, I was confronted by a dude in a white belt.

It was not just the present Chelsea location.

I saw two white-belted waif hipster type guys on the stroll that brought me over to the West Teens.

The first clown sat on a retro bicycle on Lexington Avenue, sporting a wool knit hat refusing to acknowledge the 90 degree heat and speaking into his cellphone. His wide white belt was chipped and revealed the leather equivalent of the brown rust that covers metal after years of wear and tear.

The second clown passed by on Fifth Avenue. He was so thin I couldn't fathom how he stood upright under the top-heavy weight of his heavy poofy hair and white-rimmed bug-eye shades. His white belt was thin and was partially covered by a scarf to complete his nouveau glam rocker costume. This was his look. This was his statement. I heard him loud and clear. He told me, "I'm a straight Lance Loud from the 70's documentary an American Family occasionally aired on PBS stations."

Before today I thought white belts were only for novice karate students, Pee Wee Herman, Moe Greene, and WKRP's ad salesman. I guess I was wrong.

My contemplation of these white belt sightings ceased briefly as the pudgy effeminate gay couple further up the street did a synchronized 360 to run their eyes lecherously up and down the buff contours of Gym-'Mo that had just passed them and was heading my way. Three blocks north and two blocks east I had turned west so I could relax and stop the struggle of consciously averting my eyes from the pear-shaped giggle of an attractive woman. She did a very good job filling in the curves of her film noir wool business skirt and I knew my ability to stave off the urge to notice this was under close observation. I envied this gay couple's ability to simultaneously stop, turn, and ogle an attractive person for the sake of ogling. I'd never find that in a woman and wouldn't like her leering at other guys. The gay couple was probably just a pair of friends. When I passed the boys, they resumed their conversation. Apparently the short guy had never been to "Park Thlope" before and it was "So very cute!"

As they drifted further behind on the block I realized that they were not the source of the burning weed smell. I checked the slow grid-locked cars for open windows. I did the same to the buildings as I moved by steep empty stoops. I looked ahead to identify the source of the marijuana smell. When I finally saw the guy I was surprised how strong the smell was considering how far up the block he was. He was finishing the joint off before he reached the busy corner. He had the forward leaning posture and paranoid perusals of a junkie but he was clean and vibrant. He filled out his clothes like he had spent a few months lifting weights on a certain small island between Hunts Point and Laguardia Airport. The high-hipped late 80's washed denim carpenter seemed to suggest he may have been involved in a longer term weight training program upstate. His belt was beige, not white. However, he still had hold of the weaved white tearproof plastic Tyveky mail bag they gave him for his property before he got on the bus. The near emptiness of the bag was indicative of a shorter weight training term, unless he was a devoted ascetic. In any event, he was not a pack rat. I wonder what his first impressions were as he reentered the Chelsea area. He stood on the corner by the Rawhide bar for a few seconds contemplating his next move. Uptown with intensity. He would feel more at home in the side streets just south of Port Authority.

In short order I replaced him on the corner and waited for the light to change continuing west and then south. Along the way and in a bar and restaurant I saw three more guys with identical white belts. The white belts were extremely wide. They resembled something from a superhero uniform and stood in stark contrast to the dark faded jeans and cordouroys they held up.

Vapid-Trend-Whore-Silly-Kitschy-Clothes-Trying-Too-Hard Man walks among us!

He is gay and straight and his hair, of various length, is uniformly dishevelled in a careful and precise manner. His shiny brand new too small vintage tee shirts are loud in color and often cleverly ironic. Sometimes he equips himself with a strange battle helmet, a peaked ball cap of vented-back and foamed-front, that is meticulously placed at a slapdash angle. He projects a studied nonchalance about his personal appearance that could not be further from the truth.

Dyer Avenue in Manhattan? 

From the NY Post Police Blotter:


An 18-year-old man was stabbed in Hell's Kitchen early yesterday by a group of thugs who were trying to mug him, cops said.

The teenager — whose name was withheld — was walking along DYER AVENUE when three men walked up to him near 42nd Street just after 12:30 a.m. and demanded cash, cops said.

The teen was able to fight off the muggers until one pulled a knife and stabbed him in the leg just above his knee.

The three thugs — two of whom are described as 18-year-olds standing about 5-foot-6, wearing all black and with hair in corn-row style — ran off without grabbing any money.

The teen hobbled over to 42nd Street, where he flagged down a passing ambulance that took him to St. Vincent's Hospital. He was treated for his wound and released.

compare and contrast 

from today's NYPD Blotter in the NY POST:

Staten Island

A father had his teenage daughter arrested on charges of criminal mischief after she damaged property in their Midland Beach home.

Jamie Cabano, 19, allegedly picked up a TV set and tossed it against a wall in their Mason Avenue residence at 3 p.m. Tuesday.

She then allegedly grabbed a flower pot and threw it to the ground.

Her father then called police and Cabano was arrested.

The torso of an unidentified man was found floating yesterday in the waters off Livingston, police said.

The lower torso was discovered at 7:35 a.m. in the waters between New Jersey and Staten Island near Richmond Terrace and Bement Court.


At the Lincoln Plaza theater, ``Fahrenheit 9/11'' took in more than $30,000 to top the $24,013 set by ``Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon'' in 2000.
 Posted by Hello

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Site Meter