How 'bout that March?!

Sorry readers but it's been a bit of a hectic month for your favorite antagonist. I've been fired, mugged, and aged since our paths last crossed. Let's begin at the beginning, eh?

I was fired for allowing a co-worker to fool around on my server number (the code an employee used to sign into the server to tally up orders) and as a result I was shit-canned. Could have been worse, they coulda beat me up. Wait, they left that to four kids from my neighborhood!

The following Monday I had stopped back in at my now-former job to grovel for my shitty, mediocre-paying serving job from the queen who had been all-too-happy to give me the ax that prior Saturday. After being told to return the following day I exited my bygone diner of dreams and shuffled into the C train back to Brooklyn. The only problem was that some young'ins wanted to slow my trip home a bit by tackling me and taking whatever belongings they could snatch out of my pockets: not much.

Somehow, the police were able to retrieve my iPod and capture one of my attackers; alas the same couldn't be said for my beloved teal Banana Republic wallet that I fear I will never be able to replace.

Theft robs you of more than the physical people!*




The annoying fallout of this debacle wasn't so much the loss of property (don't get me wrong, it sucked) was the dealings with police and the District Attorney's Office. I had the police (initially unbeknownst to me and subsequently unwillingly) parading me around my neighborhood where these cats roam and I'm typically averse to making myself known as being in bed with the police. I never outgrew my punk records, I suppose.

These dipshits were driving me around in what was an obvious unmarked car in broad daylight to try to make a positive ID on the kids that jumped me FROM BEHIND. The only positive identification that was transpiring was of me as not only the Token White in the area but also as the incandescent neighbor who's in bed with police. That goes over swimmingly in a "strong heroin and crack presence with frequent robberies"-type neighborhood as the police who drove me home the night of the incident described my street.



But wait, THERE'S MORE!!!

The youngster they captured was repeatedly shown my face in close proximity, occasionally without my knowledge and at the police precinct. How about you guys give them a copy of my house key next time? Can I count that as a tax write-off if "hoodlums" use my laptop to make shitty Flo-Rida-derivative beats on my stolen laptop? What about royalties? Fuck it.

The most abhorrent behavior I encountered occurred at the court room, however. I was coaxed into spending an entire day waiting to give five minutes of slanted and misleading Grand Jury testimony. It was disgusting the way this Assistant D.A. was maneuvering in an attempt to get the best testimony out of me. Vile creature he was, even after admitting earlier in the day he thought there wasn't a case to be made. We all have to swallow our pride and our ethics to a certain degree at times to put food on the table; I'm a realist and I will concede that to myself and others, but this was egregious. Pulling out all the stops on a 15-year-old** first-time offender makes you a despicable person and it makes me glad I made jokes during my testimony to undermine the entire affair.

But it hasn't been all misery and loss...


I also got to ride a bull! Fun night for sure filled with surprise visitors, copious amounts of whiskey, new friends, and ridiculously drunken karaoke...even by drunken karaoke standards of inebriation.

So, now I've been kicked out of the 18-24 party and thrust into the immediately lamer and inferior in the eyes of advertisers 25-30/35 demographic which hurts a little to be honest. The 18-24 group has ALL the cool birthdays unless you're a girl*** stuck in the Eisenhower years or you're a Jew and, well, we disregard them here.

• Fuck, I can't wait until I'm able to rent a car!
• The wisdom gleaned from navigating through my twenties is invaluable. I'm glad that time is done and I can now enjoy adulthood.
  
• Every birthday is another year closer to attaining my goal APR!

No one says these things honestly. These are statements made by folks in denial. No one sits at home when they're grounded and 15 thinking to themselves, "I can't wait until my late twenties so I can be expected to make sound decisions all the time while being burdened with these same expectations (as well as my own) every day!" Fuck that! When you're fifteen, all you want is to be 21 so you can be getting drunk, fucking chicks (or dudes), ad partying with no one (at least in your adolescent mind) telling you different.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not some douche on my way to finance a Camaro I can't afford and a blond I can't satisfy.**** But for whatever silly reason, be it self-imagined or inflicted on me by popular culture and the media that mirrors, creates, and magnetizes it, I feel like the jump from 24 to 25 has been a much longer motion than my last step forward. But that's all I have for you at the moment, but it's probably more than you needed. I'll try to douse you in posts this upcoming month. Then again, it is the first of the month.






















*I'm just fucking with you, only pussies say that. You're not pussy, arrreee youuuu?
**Shut up, they had an aggregate age of sixty. Wait, fuck! Let me rephrase that, it was like a four hundred pound 15-year-old with freakish athleticism attacked me.
***To spoil any eurocentric accusations I will mention Quinceanera and in the interest of mutual inclusion I will proclaim them lame too.
****The latter is impossible, anyway.

Stolen

I got this idea from on 205th, actually I'm just stealing the videos the guy (I assume only a male would take the time to do this) posted and adding my own brief annotations for your enjoyment.

First, the "professionals":

Everyone, and by everyone I mean all members of the Portland Trailblazers organization, loves to rattle on and on about Travis Outlaw's "upside." Perhaps someday this dunk will be completed with the desired effect.



I'll admit it, I'm biased here: I hate Tony Parker. But c'mon, a breakaway and this is all you can muster? You're 25, dude, no excuse for a "power outage." Watch near the end as Tony P poorly feigns injury to save face.



HELLA-COPTAH!!! Who would have thought that Madison Square Garden security would allow anti-aircraft firearms into the building. Poor Qyntel.



Foreigners!

Sorry, dude. You're not Dwight Howard, you're not even on par with Nate Robinson. I've made a concerted effort to be nicer but I don't think this guy could dunk over an ottoman, let alone a human.



Rising Stars:

I really have little snarky to say here other than, shitty luck, dude.



Transition D doesn't kill the fast break, it just paralyzes it. Respect to the old man for screaming for an ejection. Comedy for some reason.



If Harmony Korine is looking to film Gummo II, he should look these dudes up.



Nothing better than a couple of your buds watch you approach death.



Box to kid: Later, Dude!



The best part of this video is not only tht an occurrence like this could take place, but the dark, malevolent laughter of the filmer. It HAD to belong to the older brother. Judging by the kid's anguished, girlish screams and his friends' ambivalence, I assume the dunker (dunkee?) frequently finds himself in similar situations.



This is how a video for a painfully executed mis-dunk should be carried out. Great editing, various speeds, development of suspense. Nice work, Chit86! And to the dunker, aim low



That Gino the Ginny kid should have a talk with this fat dude about the perils of dunking in sweaters. On second thought, the fat man may not be Italian. Regardless, sweater dunks?



The crowd goes wild as one man remains somber. Can you guess who? Sidenote: kinda sad that a group this size would congregate for something as banal as a dunk; then again it's Montana.

Are you serious???

This is apparently a video "accidentally" leaked to the same pirates the RIAA is trying to weed out. If this is the crack team the RIAA and the National District Attorneys Association is unfurling then intellectual and creative property advocates should be worried.

Crack being hidden in CDs? Perhaps my source mislabeled or misinterpreted the information they happened upon, maybe the RIAA and NDAA are this clueless, either way this video is quite humorous.

I'm reminded of my early childhood when Acid Madness reached the parents' ears of the Southwest and everyone from my mother, to my nosy neighbor, to the recess monitor hammered home the point that if you discover a stamp," Don't lick it--IT COULD BE L-S-D!!!"

I think that old man simply doesn't understand the lyrical nuances of an emcee like Juelz Santana and the rest of the Dipset Crew.

They're still mad at Clemens in Red Sox Nation

Stephen F. Lynch, what are YOU, and the rest of Congress doing with this hearing? Aren't there an infinite number of more important issues and problems to be tackling with such fervor?

As an obsessive sports fan I want to know who did what, who cheated, who didn't. But at what cost? I'm not the first to cry out at the foolishness of this grandtsanding on the part of our legislative branch and I hope I won't be the last; how many times do we need to hear Tom Davis refer to Clemens' "buttocks"?

How about that Brian McNamee? I try not to judge people and ethical potential based on their appearance, but this guy sure looks wormy and mole-like, doesn't he? Sorry to mix of animal comparisons, but the guy just looks shady. Lay off the pomade and try to avoid your darting your eyes when you make strong statements. Stuttering is also a poor choice of prosody.

Wait, Henry A. Waxman's visage resembles a mole moreso than McNamee's so McNamee's face will be relegated to worm and sloth.

Paul E. Kanjorski appears as though he is on his deathbed, ack! This variety show of a hearing is turning me into a perez hilton-esque blogger. Get me the fuck outta here.

Can I get a jihad?

A sign of the end times (musically-speaking)?

From today's New York Post, available here

That reality* is causing record companies to reassess just what constitutes a hit - and spawning questions to which labels haven't yet found a set answer.

"The thing that becomes challenging is: how much should you spend?" said Paul Burgess, executive VP at TVT Records, home to rappers Pitbull and Lil' Jon.

"Do you need to record 20 tracks? Should you be investing enormous amount of money on the marketing? Ultimately we make most of our money from breaking artists, and not songs."

*For better context, the reality being referred to are the drastically sinking album sales in the music industry.


Man, record execs are finally admitting that they churn out one/two-hit ponies. The catalyst being the people are finally catching on to this and not purchasing the entire album but the song(s) of their choice in mp3 or ring tone format. This is mutually damning for both parties (record labels and music consumers), in a holier-than-thou fashion, of course.

First, the music business scum with their abhorrent ability to commodify and duplicate ad nauseam trends and movements within music until all genuine creativity has been sapped. They're eating crow now as they are (seemingly) admitting that all of their focus has been on encouraging artists to hone their marketability instead of their craft (if they had a craft to begin with is unbeknownst to me) and are being sent back to the drawing board, heads down and ashamed.

Second, the general music (at least music-al fans, not to be confused with musical fans) enjoying public is admitting it can only enjoy music in short bursts. The general listening public is disinterested in musical craftsmanship and the development of an idea or sound across an album. The album is dying a simultaneously slow and quick death. And why wouldn't it?

Most albums (this goes for you too, so-called indie labels) seem to have a handful of redeeming songs and mess of filler. The average listener will break out the music sieve and let those crummy songs go by the wayside and only have the gems left. But why should the consumer purchase an $18.00 CD when the one or two enjoyable songs can be downloaded for 99 cents or, better yet, free? It's a no-brainer!

Ultimately I really don't care, while I'm not a "I'll pick up the single"-guy, I'm also not the music-crazed person I was 5 years ago. I'm not sure if it's me or the music, but most of this shit sucks and they can charge or not charge all they like; I'll keep my oldies and I'm content with being that guy. Somebody's gotta do it, right?


BY THE WAY, THIS DISJOINTED, HASTILY THROWN TOGETHER, AND INCOMPLETE BLOG WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE GOOD FOLKS AT XM RADIO.

This is how a shitty job is shoved back up your ass.

I've quit before: jobs, relationships, school, etc. But it's been some time since the ending of a relationship of any sort has been initiated by the other side of an association.

I was left flabbergasted and mouth agape as my boss told me over the phone that my services would not be needed for a few weeks and that it "would be a good idea to look for a new job" as I stood shivering in this New York winter. Good thing I hadn't bought those plane tickets I was contemplating or made any other exorbitant purchases.

So here I am back at square one (really square 0.5--I didn't trade time zones to continue waiting tables) looking for a job that challenges me and interests me; the difference being I don't have the luxury of ANY job. I have no income save for my two meager paychecks that remain to be collected/paid.

What's an unskilled college graduate to do?!

Starting today, I hit the job market with an unparalleled (when measured against my prior standards and levels of dedication to the job hunt) drive to hunt down a job. Not necessarily the job, in that it's my dream job, I don't plan on finding that for some time. How could I realistically, at that? I'm at such a precarious position right now with trying to find my way and my niche, I likely wouldn't be able to identify it, let alone be prepared for said occupation.

The hard part I've found is overtaking the hurdles I've encountered seemingly every leg of this race toward the pretty finish line where all the happy and financially secure professionals and semi-professionals reside:*

-Little to no actual published work/experience at an actual paper.
-Little to no experience with programs and tools necessary for online editions of media


I thought there'd be more when this piece came to mind but those are the only stumbling blocks I've encountered. Which, in my estimation, amount to little. Those are both easily nullified deficiencies with a willingness to allow on-site learning coupled with an eagerness to master said deficiencies. But before I let this piece devolve even more so into a spiral of self-pity and bitching, I'll proceed to my point and ruminations.

As (hopefully) evident in my brief spot regarding my deficiencies, the current world of journalism, and media as a collective, is moving frantically toward an internet-centric format. With these ideologic (timeliness > factuality), resource-related (tech-focused materials), and personnel (smaller, less specialized staffs) shifts rapidly approaching and occurring every day, what is to happen to the media?

I am usually opposed to specialization in most cases. This practice in business usually leads to industry crippling inabilities for self-reliance. Niches are OK when
it comes to music and the arts--but not business. If you're only able to perform one highly specialized task, chances are you're not really valuable as an employee and rightfully so.

But the media I believe exists at a nebulous spot between art and business. It's certainly a business, and it inches closer to that side of the relationship daily**. But the artistry inherent to journalism (especially print) is what keeps it, for the time being, from shifting all the way over to the business side of things and relatively connected to the arts. This connection, albeit a loose one, is why I still maintain that specialization (not an egregious, factory line-esque sort) within the field of journalism and media is still important and vital for its future.

Do you want a page designer/layout expert as your editor-in-chief? Do you want your arts person covering sports (or vice-versa***)? Should the reporter in charge of public affairs be the food critic? While I'm well aware that an of these people could ostensibly complete the fictional requirements mentioned, it also doesn't make sense to make things more difficult than they need be or square peg a round hole. Assign the right task to the right person. Watch how things run more productively and with superior results.

Now I know this is all hypothetical and that a reason for much of this job condensing is shrinking budgets. But there are different, more proactive methods to account for fewer bucks in the bank than forcing someone to undertake a task they're not fit to tackle in the first place.

It's a slap to the face of the profession and art of journalism AND the population its (we're) supposed to be informing and protecting.









*I know that was redundant; but it looks and sounds nice if you don't think about the redundancy, so shut up and enjoy my mediocre metaphor.
**The same can be said for music and many other artist movements.
***I was the sports guy covering the Arts Beat at the last place I worked at. Never judge a book by its cover, right? Moppy hair and snug clothing=/=arts-y.

Quick thought on the passing of the guards

IS it just me or does Bush seem like he is undergoing a presidential moment of lucidity? It's like the guy just realized that there's a strong chance he will go down as one of the worst presidents of recent U.S. history (which, by the way, is all the history we have as a nation: recent) and he's hoping that some end-of-term motions aimed at appearing as though he gave a fuck about any section of the U.S. population aside from his wealthy oil buddies will strike this from the memory of the history book writers and the population as a whole? It's like the asshole who shoots himself in the foot through an entire date being unfunny, uninteresting, classless and a general buffoon devoid of charm, then expects pussy or a second date because he opened the car door for his date. Good luck, dude, but it's not gonna happen.

I for one will remember an eight year span where the world grew to hate the United States more than ever. Chris Rock may be right, to a certain extent, that "everyone hates a winner" but no one likes a graceless winner. We are reaping the fruits of this shortsightedness.

The economy went into the toilet to levels that I cannot recall* and there doesn't seem to be even a dim light on the horizon for a new day to be approaching. This "dynasty" appears on a steep decline.

The divide between "red" and "blue" states seems even more disparate than it did nearly 10 years ago. What should have been a unifying and galvanizing time of realignment devolved into a cultural civil war, of sorts. Will and Grace fans v. Jeff Foxworthy-vehicle fans. Guys, both those shows suck, can't you at least get along based on the fact that your collective taste in entertainment sucks? Everyone wants to eat, shit, fuck, and sleep--why get in the way?

The man will be leaving the country in worse shape than when he found it. Nice job, dick. I have to head to work, but read the article and tell me what you think.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/28/washington/28cnd-earmark.html?hp














I'm not going to pretend as though I am, or ever have been, a finance/economy savant. I DO, however, have eyes and I can see that jobs are being outsourced at a ridiculous pace, the value of the USD is shrinking exponentially, and people are losing their homes. Even the Federal Reserve is essentially throwing up a white flag. Writing's on the walls and there's more than smoke here--we might just be fucked, after all.