Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Proving once again that all the best things happen in New Jersey, WCBS-TV is reporting on a "house of filth" in Chester Township, where 93 cats and one dog were found in a mansion in a million dollar neighborhood and, according to one SPCA person, "The conditions were absolutely horrific - there wasn't one inch of the house that wasn't covered in feces or urine."
I don't see the big deal. Jimmy and I share an apartment that could sometimes be described that way. And our cat Stella is the happiest cat you could ever meet who has a giant bulbous but benign cyst hanging from the side of her head.
Jimmy and I want to adopt the one smack in the middle of the above picture. We love a cat that can do a good hen pose.
Monday, March 30, 2009
My shitty camera phone and I attended the Behind the Book Comedy Night (a benefit to get books in the hands of kids in poor and underfunded NYC neighborhoods) last Saturday at the East Village Comedy Club and got some great grainy pics. And because I never pass up the opportunity to be photographed with beauty queens, I present to you me and Miss Metropolitan (she's the one with the tiara), who was there for some reason and will be competing in the Miss New York pageant soon (and, if all goes well, will go on to the Miss America pageant).
"So what's your talent?" I asked, hoping it would be baton twirling. "I sing opera," she answered, and I immediately felt unworthy to be in her presence, because, wow, that's an actual talent. Anyway, the comedians on hand were great, if slightly unnerved by the staid, largely white NPR-listening audience made up of folks who feel guilty about laughing at Obama jokes.
Godfrey, the black guy from 30 Rock who isn't Tracy Jordan, does a really great Indian accent.
Todd Barry at one point reprimanded us for missing our cue to laugh.
I have no idea who this guy was, but he was adorable. His set was waaaay too short, like 5 minutes. I'd been undressing him with my eyes and hadn't even gotten past his waistband.
Friday, March 27, 2009
These two dogs live in the building I work in in Chelsea, and I've been wanting their picture for some time because my knees buckle from the cuteness whenever I see them. I was taking a midday constitutional today and luckily had my camera phone on me, which I used to take secret pictures while pretending to text a friend. (Wrong, suckas! I don't have any friends!) Once again, my camera phone would not be denied. Seriously, click on the image above--they're freaking adorable.
It's exhausting being gay sometimes.
My camera phone has never been denied dog butt.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
I didn't pay much attention to Meghan McCain and her dumb blogging during the campaign because I was too terrified that her father would win the election, which I guess would have made her the First Blogger, at least until Vice President Palin shot her from a helicopter or something. I still don't pay that much attention to her (I never read her Daily Beast column, because life is too short already), but that doesn't mean she's not going to insert herself into my life, day after day, looking all adorable on the teevee. (Sorry, but she's cute.)
What I really don't get is... what exactly makes Meghan McCain a Republican? She's pro-life but believes in the right to choose, she loves the gays, she can't stand Ann Coulter and Laura Ingram, she's admitted to Rachel Maddow (when asked about whether she thinks a spending freeze would be a good idea) that she doesn't really understand the economy or numbers and stuff, so she's not a fiscal ideologue. So what does she believe in that classifies her as a Republican? Low taxes? Screwing teenage boys? Truck nutz?
I'm in awe of young guys like this, who, at age 17 (!), are channelling their energies into talking about getting married. In public forums! With freaking cameras! Then going back to school the next day! Jesus. When I was 17, I hadn't even said the word "gay" out loud, so beside myself with self-loathing was I, furiously jerking off to the cover of the Smiths' self-titled first album, and then telling myself I'd never do it again. Every. Night. (I was so passionate back then.)
Respect to guys like Whatshisname from Vermont above. He deserves a hand job from the captain of the football team or something.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Republican Congresswoman Michelle Bachman of Minnesota is itching for a fight over the new Obama tax plan, and she has a great idea about how to get her followers at Minnesota's better insane asylums to lock and load: appeal to their love of (1) Thomas Jefferson and (2) danger. Here's what she said on some dumb AM radio show today (Hint to younger readers: AM radio is kind of like an iPod that only plays the Angry Jesus podcast. It is also a potent force for right-wing politics and can be live-streamed on most computers with a decent broadband connection):
"I want people in Minnesota armed and dangerous on this issue of the energy tax because we need to fight back. Thomas Jefferson told us 'having a revolution every now and then is a good thing,' and the people -- we the people -- are going to have to fight back hard if we're not going to lose our country. And I think this has the potential of changing the dynamic of freedom forever in the United States."
Sh*t, y'all, they're coming for us. If these hillbillies she's appealing to are half as mad about this energy tax as they are about Obama's fancy-pants pronunciation of Pakistan, we're all well and surely doomed. After all, it's really the small things, like Napoleon or British tea bags, that lead to bloody revolution.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
We all know that the best part about the Internet is that you can so easily keep tabs on what various Flash Gordon cast members have been up to since their 1980 heyday. It's true! For example, I now know that Melody Anderson, who played Dale Arden, is a family therapist in Los Angeles. And Sam J. Jones, Flash Gordon himself, has lent his considerable acting chops to such memorable television series as Silk Stalkings, Hollywood Safari, Psychotic, and Dead Sexy, more often than not playing a character named Sam Jones. Also: the two of them recently teamed up to record a commentary podcast for the film, which I recently downloaded and listened to on my iPod while watching my Flash Gordon: Savior of the Universe special edition DVD. (In related news, I'm a sad, desperate, lonely person.)
But what about Princess Aura, the never fully dressed sexpot Euro-bitch who stole the entire movie out from under Max Von Sydow? Ornella Muti had a solid film career brewing before Flash Gordon, so what on earth has she been up to since then? Well, dancing with a bunch of veils, for one. Whispering seductively, for another. Above you will find a recent single/video she unleashed on the European public. She's not exactly singing per se, but why don't you try vocalizing after having the bore worms put on you at such a young age?
Friday, March 13, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I'm very happy for Rush, but I'm kind of surprised that he would be caught dead riding a train. Didn't Lenin invent those? I guess they don't make golf carts big enough these days. Sad.
Monday, March 9, 2009
International Women's Day Message from Woman Picking Flowers in Amritsar, India: "The F**k You Looking At?"
This beautiful Indian woman, plucking flowers in her hometown to sell in her local market ahead of International Women’s Day, has a message for the citizens of the first world as our thoughts turn to women’s issues and what we can do to address them worldwide: The f**k are you looking at?
Indeed, this woman is kind of tired of being followed around by AP photographers just so they can get their award-worthy photo of a woman in the developing world doing something suitably second world-y, like picking flowers, carrying baskets of fruit on her head, or staring excitedly at a computer screen wondering what the heck she’s looking at. Yeah, she’s picking flowers, and the flowers are beautiful, so what? You ain't got flowers in your country? Yes, she's sporting a gorgeous headscarf--do they not stock them in your neighborhood yet? She’s got a cell phone, too, but no, she’s not going to use it while your goddamn camera lens is pointing at her because she’s not your performing monkey. She’ll text her friends later. A**hole.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Ladies and gentlemen, the very reason computers were invented was so that, one day, we would be able to undress people with our mouses. Mice. Mouse. Anyway, the Internet upped the ante, so now we can collectively undress people with our mouses...mice....mouse, internationally, as one people, in a shared erotic experience.
Ok, yikes, that sounded kind of gross, but never mind that, check out Ansgar (above), a 30-year-old musician. Wait, what were we talking about?
Oh, yeah, naked Germans! All of you kids out there who like girls will probably get more out of this than I did (Ansgar, the first person featured, was also one of very few hot young men on offer). But still, witness computer technology at its finest.
And, this should go without saying, but unless you work in a brothel (hey Dani!), this is NSFW.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
This is exciting, as the unveiling of a new corporate mascot always is. Can you even remember what your life was like before the Expedia.com gnome or the Geico lizard came into the picture? So dark, right? Well, fasten your seatbelts, because the GOP is getting ready to unleash a new mascot that isn’t Michael Steele, and it will change the way you look at the party forever, especially in urban/suburban hip-hop settings: witness the Dogbat (pictured above in Newt Gingrich’s back yard, in Compton).
Now, the Dogbat—certainly a fearsome beast of liberty—wasn’t the Republicans’ first choice, it must be said. Their initial inclination was to go with the hippopotamus because it is majestic and hates homos. Sadly, it also looked too much like Rush Limbaugh, and the Republicans didn’t want to confuse people. Their second choice—a brown leather D&G handbag engulfed in flames—was also a no-go, since test audiences kept thinking it was Ann Coulter. So they settled on the Dogbat, which, though one person at CPAC last weekend thought it was Mitt Romney, has largely tested well with base Republicans.
As we all know, Americans love dogs and fear bats, so fusing these two opposing but complementary instincts into one mighty distillation of the Republican message is the most inspired act of rebranding the GOP has attempted since Ronald Reagan. So the GOP is now ready to introduce the Dogbat to the rest of the country, sit back, and wait for power to once again be theirs.
By the way, the Dogbat does not bark. It whinnies.
Monday, March 2, 2009
First-time authors have it rough, for sure. As a general rule, they aren’t media savvy, they are nervous and sweaty, and when they give a reading, they can pretty much bet on nobody attending unless they are some sort of sexy genius, like Sarah Palin or Malcolm Gladwell. As a Democrat who is sick to the eyeballs of dumb right-wing automatons peddling the same dumb tropes over and over and over about socialistic, America-hating gay liberals wanting the government to sodomize all American children while praying—hand over heart—to Satan and Stalin, I can’t help but look at the above picture of Joe the Plumber at a Borders in Washington, DC and find myself awash in schadenfreude. But as a human being with a beating heart and a measure of empathy, I can’t help but admit that this is the saddest picture of the morning.
Sure, Joe the Plumber isn’t a plumber and his name isn’t even Joe. Sure he says idiotic things on Fox News like that the election of Obama means the death of Israel. Sure, his opposition to Obama’s tax plan during the campaign was based on a fear for what it would do to a small plumbing business that he didn’t even have yet (and that would have actually benefited from Obama’s plan, had it actually existed). Sure he wears the SAME FUCKING OUTFIT EVERY DAY, because he’s a real American man, and American men don’t give a shit how they look. But, as hard as this may be to believe, I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that Joe the Plumber has feelings and that it is possible that, upon learning that his planned-for 3-hour Borders extravaganza was, in actuality, petering out after a limp-wristed 55 minutes, his heart probably sank into his ill-fitting britches. So sad.