The Path of Palestine

Click on image to enlarge.

How can you create peace in Palestine without understanding the fact that the land was stolen from the original owners?

It would be like someone coming into your house and saying my great-great-great to the 10th power grandfather lived in this house and now I'm moving into it. "You get to live in the basement."

Free Palestine.

The Oak Room Closure

Yet another of the Plaza's venerable assets has been closed thanks to the timeless ineptitude of the El-Ad management. No more Palm Court. No more Oyster Bar. No more eating at the Oak Room. Judging from their failure rate the hotel should be next.

But then Israeli are better known for hostility than hospitality.

We can only hope one day they go home so that the Plaza can be free.

Quote of the Day

"Ugliness is in a way superior to beauty because it lasts."

Serge Gainsbourg
(04/02/1928 – 03/02/1991)
French singer

Free The Weed

French chanteur Serge Gainsbourg appeared in the 1969 film CANNABIS with his English muse, Jane Birkin. In 1973 America responded to this Gallic challenge by adopting the Rockefeller drug laws, which set the penalty for possession of more than 2 ounces of heroin, morphine, opium, cocaine, or cannabis on the same level as 2nd degree murder; 15-25 years. This punishment was aimed at interdicting the drug plague sweeping the USA by imprisoning anyone who couldn't afford a good lawyer, so that the prisons are cramped with drug offenders. Up to 20% of convicts have been sentenced for drug offense. More than 400,000 people with hundreds of thousands more being funneled through the justice system.

The war of drugs has failed same as the war of terrorism, because both wars were fought not to be won, but to continue ad infinitum in order to finance an anti-crime political base for the GOP.

From 2001 to 2008 the Bush regime instructed federal officers to raid California marijuana distributors, despite the State passing a law to legalize the uses of medical marijuana. The new attorney general has reversed that policy also supported by President Clinton. Now the question of legality of marijuana has been shifted to the states to decide whether to broaden the decriminalization of the weed.

Much thanks to the late Serge Gainsbourg for his efforts in this struggle.

Here's a link to his music from the film CANNABIS

several years later with Nelson Rockefeller signing http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=68910467925&h=EvtlJ&u=Nbr4d

When is Vincent Cassel going to do the Serge Gainsbourg story.

They shared the same nose or pif.

WONT GET FOOLED AGAIN - The Who

Some songs are prophetic. Others are reminders of where we should be headed for the sake of our children. Few better than the Who's WON'T GET FOOLED AGAIN

Go to this URL for the magic

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SM0WIP7eMYs&feature=related

And of course BABA O'REILLY

No one had used synthesizers for rhythm like this ever before.

Least not that I can recall and that includes NICE and EMERSON LAKE AND PALMER.

BABA O'REILLY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeyurMO7VU0&feature=related

"It's only teenage wasteland."

????????

Burn Ferrari Burn

F1 racing is stupid. The cars race around circuit in a procession. Ferrari is the most fabled team on the circuit. From 2002 to 2007 my website was #1 in Google Search. An arrest by the Ferrari anti-copyright squad knocked me off the list. I had to move back to the USA. The Thai police throughout the ordeal were most helpful and extremely honest, but said they would have never arrested me if it was for the fat farangs from Italy, so today I was happy to see that a Ferrari burned to the wheels in Satthahip.

The Ferrari was worth $250,000.

It was a gift from a rich guy to his kid for Valentine's Day. The color was red.

The society persona was with a Thai starlet.

He was driving down the road and the car engine exploded into flames.

Could it have been one of those seized by Customs several years back.

Probably not.

Those were reportedly destroyed by machines.

The young heir to untold wealth escaped injury by pouring a bottle of water on the engine. Boom. End of Ferrari.

The revolution will not be televised by the Press.

Soak the Rich

I know some rich people. Mostly from Palm Beach, Millbrook, and Manhattan. Nobody in Europe dares announce their wealth in feat of the tax man. South Americans could give a shit. When they have money, they like to spend it, however during the current economic crisis no one wants to show their cash and this despite have flourished for 8 years under the GOP regime. Ostentatious spending has been declared off-limit and even the spendthrift Russians have realized that money makes you a target.

This is 2009.

The other night two rich friends of mine were held up at gun point.

A gun to his head as the thieves searched his apartment for the safe. They found it. Plus $90,000. I didn't ask why he had that much money in a safe. Someone else obviously already knew the answer. $$$ is safer in your safe than a bank.

We are entering a time that I never thought I would see again.

1975.

Broke.

All of America but this time is will be worst, so you rich people, when Obama requests more taxes, don't say nothing or else you could end up like the Russian aristocrats in 1919 and that was a tough year for the the rich in that war-torn country.

Give and give often.

I know the rich and they don't deserve the money.

Not unless they spend it more freely to have Cindy Crawford as a 'friend'.

Chill Out

GOP leaders have lambasted President Obama's stimulus package as a wasteful burden on future generations. Tax hikes on the rich, health care reform, and unemployment expansion. Newt Gringich says, "The problem with the overall budget is that it's a job-killing budget." and Dick Morris, ex-flak for the Clintons wrote. "Obama is spreading panic."

They and their cohorts mustn't be reading the polls stating that public support for Obama's program cuts into their political base. The GOP also ignore the fact that it was GW Bush's disastrous 8-year reign which put America and the rest of the world in this state of crisis.

Obama tried the bipartisan route only to have his welcome mat pissed on by the right.

Now it's time to send them a message.

"Shut the fuck up."

Doing nothing in this situation is better than offering more of the old same GOP tax-cuts, although Israel's new ruling party is willing to salvage their economy with tax-cuts.

Maybe zombie economics will work in that welfare state.

Otherwise I don't even listen to the right-wingers in the USA.

The word for their programs is 'discredited' by greed.

Thai Circles of Influence

The Old Roue is not the only person doing research into Thai life.

From http://www.notstickmanbangkok.com/Weekly2006/CirclesOfInfluence.htm

The Thais are a loyal people. That loyalty may not always well understood by an outsider. The Thais are loyal to the King and Royal family. The Thais are also very loyal to their own personal families. They are also loyal to their communities.

There would be some debate on why they are loyal. Some attribute it to how they are raised. Others would guess that their loyalties are rooted by virtue of how the society works. My guess is that it's a mixture of both. They are indoctrinated from an early age to respond to their family and society in appropriate ways. And yes, some of their success in life also depends to some degree how they conduct themselves and perform their social obligations.

All of their actions in some way exhibit their loyalties.

As westerners, we are the same. Our actions follow our loyalties as well but our loyalties don't always involve the social circles that we live in. The single westerner is commonly loyal to their integrity and their career. Or the westerner may be loyal to their own personal endeavors. In the west, we sever ties with family in may ways. We are the ones "pushed out of the nest" and taught to fend for ourselves. We still love our families and we have an allegiance to our families, but our immediate and future successes don't directly depend on our direct loyalty to our families. We are certainly more on our own in may ways.

Here in Thailand (and other places in Asia), loyalty to the family is paramount to how Thais work within the framework of their society. Thai children are not pushed out of the nest. They are taught how to make their family's nest larger and more powerful. They are encouraged to stay in the family and support and nurture their families. This is a prime priority; this is perhaps their greatest loyalty. Frequently, in their minds, their own personal happiness may be sacrificed in order to unsure the health, stability, and happiness of their family. That is their priority. That is what most heavily influences their decisions.

Loyalties is just one type of influence. It is likely to be their greatest influence. There are a number of others and I'll list a few here to diagram how I think a Thai person thinks.

I'm going to diagram the circles of influence that I believe effect a younger (20's - 30's) Thai female. I believe that most of my readership is most interested in that segment of this society. It's will Thai females that most foreigners have the most direct and personal contact with. This is the gender that seems to mystify us the most.

The number of influences are not few in number. There are many. I'm only going to diagram 5 circles to keep this treatment of the subject simple.

First, we'll omit the influence of the King and Royal family. Thais really can do all normal everything things without any conflicts in their their allegiance to the King. Assume for the sake of this article that all other circles are inside their loyalty to the King.

The five circles we will itemize are:

Obligation to Family (orange)- This is the influence that requires the Thai female to "check with her mother" first. This is very common in the normal landscape of Thailand. You won't see any Pattaya girls checking with Mom first, but I assure you it happens all the time in the country. The needs of the family also drive the girls into gainful employment. The key would in that sentence is "gainful". Make no mistake. One of the key influences for a girl to work is the family. That family need is typically greater than her own personal needs.

Teachings of Buddha (yellow)- This influence calls the girls to be kind, generous, and do no harm to another person.

Sexual Desire (blue)- This is her native desire to be in a normal sexual physical relationship.

Personal Interests (pink)- This would be her natural interests and desires. That might include wanting to travel or go to school. This would also include the personal desire to have children and be happy.

Greed (green)- Personal selfish desire to be wealthy. Everyone has some greed and the Thai female is no different. In the country, greed is not so easily seen in many cases. In Pattaya, greed is much more apparent.

Social Correctness (brown)- This is a girls influence that asks here to be polite, and conform to proper social etiquette. Girls will go to some length to satisfy the appearance of conforming social correctness. This is obviously not so commonly seen in Pattaya but it's very common in the country.



When I deal with the a country girl I think of her in these terms of the diagram above. I know that she is very concerned about family obligations. I know her personal interests are smaller and take a back seat to the greater need for social correctness. She wants to be in love but she is more likely to agree to arranged marriages if the family is deeply in need. She puts her own selfish desires typically behind the needs of her family.

Zone 1: If she wants a new telephone and she works at the local restaurant and flirts with her male customers to gain extra tips so she can buy that telephone, she'll be operating in zone 1. It's not against Buddha, and it serves her family and it may not necessarily require sex to obtain. Many girls operate in this zone.

Zone 2: If she is secretly meeting guys for sex and money then its more likely that she is operating in the area of zone 2. In most cases the family will not know (or does not want to know) that she is exchanging sex for money. It's totally outside the local social values system but not against Buddha and she may be doing it for family or just for her own personal financial desires. She may or may not care for the sex. And though her actions are contrary to Buddha, the local community would not openly condone her actions.

Zone 3: Zone three is quite common for girls who have a secret boyfriend. He supports her, she has a monogamous commitment to him. It's not marriage but its functional for her life and it helps the family. In most cases the family may know about the boyfriend but may not know about the intimacy of the relationship. For those of us (like me) who are quite shy of marriage, this is a common zone to be in.

Zone 4: If you happen to have a relationship with a girl in this zone, the girl loves you and will devote herself to you and will certainly want to be married to you. To her, its not even a matter of greed. She'll not be seeking out your money as a prime concern. If you are standing in this zone for her, she'll be quite a happy lady and you'll bring honor to her family and the surrounding community in which she lives.



The circles of influence for a bar or go-go girl are quite a bit different. In Pattaya or the Bangkok "red light" districts, social correctness is significantly reduced. The girls there don't feel in influences of social correctness as they would in their home town.

This girls enjoy the freedom to indulge in sex for personal advancement. Greed is a common influence.

Zone 1: A girls is at the top of her game. She is enjoying the work. She is making great money. She is doing something she likes and she is building the family their new home. She is really not doing anything bad against anyone and this is no conflict to her Buddhist teachings. Life is pretty damn good in this zone.

Zone 2: A girls is ripping of guys for cash. She is certainly outside of the Buddhist principles and she knows it. She may also be into drugs and just headed down a bad path. She may not care about herself anymore.

Zone 3: This has been working for a while or this is the type that never really liked the bar industry. She wants to get out of this work and marry and leave. She is still doing well, but is not much interested in the money as a means to the end. She may very well look forward to marriage and as the means to the end for a happy life. Or this girl may have already made a lot of money and she is looking to retire. She may be in a transition frame of mine. Perhaps she saw a close friend die of a drug overdose or someone she knows contracted AIDS. Greed is off the table and she is probably planning an exit strategy.

Zone 4: This is a girl who is in trouble. She has over-stayed here visit to the naughty night life industry and her beauty is waning. She may be having a hard time making enough money to support family back home and wants to leave but doesn't have any other skill required to work anywhere else. This girl is looking to marry as well but knows that her options are much slimmer than the younger more attractive girls who work with her.

In all of these models, the circles of influence are changeable based on surrounding influences to some extent. And as an example, a girl down in the south battling Muslim hatred and violence would find here circles very different in size and placement.

As a foreigner, you may coax her into different zones by what influence you have on her...



What about Honesty?

As for honesty - and this is a big point...... The greatest honesty from a girl is seen when she is in her natural zone and she has no external influences on her position. In other words, if you meet a country girl who is ready to marry and she is basically in zone 4, all other things being equal, she is honest plain and simple. However, if you meet a girl in zone 4 and you appeal to her greed and desire for sex and pull her over to zone 1, then honestly will be reduced.

Conversely if you meet a bar girl at the peek of her profession (zone 1) and you just want a hot piece of sex and a good time, then she'll be straight up and honest with you. But let's say you fall in love with her (or think you did) and you ask her to stop working for money, then you appeal to her greed and offer to send her significant cash to stop working. You push her outward toward Zone 2. She may reluctantly agree, and she take and cash, and she may have a slight itch to consider leaving the bar scene, but in reality, she won't leave. She is at the top of her game! She knows that she's not being right by the Buddhist philosophy, she knows its not right in the eyes of community, but damn it, she'll reason that her family could always use the cash, and what you don't know won't hurt you. She'll lie to you. Expect it. In my mind, and the limited knowledge that I have about bar girls in Zone 1, they typically leave when their value starts to wane. Very very few just jump ship on all that income without a very good reason. If if they do take a respite from the industry, they are normally sucked back in again because life back at the house is pretty boring when compared to hot sex with the men of their choice, gratuitous shopping, and that occasional trip to Phuket.

Honesty is not a fundamental virtue inside the circles of influence. Honesty is more the result of allowing a girl to be themselves in any zone they reside in. Honesty is part of the Buddhists teachings, and it is part of family values but it takes a big back seat in normal everyday life. Honesty is not practical. It's not a primary influence.

Loyalty is in fact be more important than honesty.

Your notice here that I make no mention of integrity. I don't sense that the Thai operate from it. When an action looks like integrity I typically hear them refer to it as Buddha would not approve, or this is not good to do (in a social context). I occasionally hear them talking about "Jai Ching" (honest heart), but it's not a large driving force.

Integrity is not a motivator. It's doesn't command respect because it not a principle that is taught in this society.

Consequently, you can not operate in the realm of honestly with this girls. You have to operate keeping their circles of influence in mind.

Soi Nana Twins

The Old Roue lives on Soi 4. His rooftop apartment overlooks the busiest street in Bangkok. More money turns hands in a single dy between go-go girls and fat farangs than the NYSE. Hard cash. On Wall Street no one shows real money. On Soi 4 only cash is king no matter how close you were to being a paper billionaire. The Old Roue has earns enough money from his day job to support his research into the nightlife of Nana Plaza.

"When are you coming back?" he asked on the phone.

"End of March." I have to complete a ruby sale to finance my return to Thailand. If it goes through, then I can resume my life of leisure.

"How's everything going with your studies?"

"I've been dedicating every minute to a set of twins."

"Twins?" I had the chance to go home with twins from the old Black-Out Go Go in Pattaya and related this incident to the Old Roue. "I told them I'd be back the next night. They vanished from sight. Are these girls identical?"

"Almost."

"Almost? Are they related?" Many mama-sans tell farangs girls are twins as an extra incentive to double barfine the girls.

"They have the same father. Somehow they were born on the same day to different mothers. I've seen their IDs." the Old Roue was convinced by this documentation.

"So they're 50% twins." I wasn't so certain about the connection, but suspension of disbelief is harder halfway around the world. "You have photos?"

"I am always thorough for these studies." The Old Roue was 60. He intended on donating his research to the Kinsey Foundation. "I'll email you later."

I couldn't tell if they were identical from the jpegs, but truthfully it didn't matter if they were related by birth.

Their beauty was from the same gene pool.

Go-Go Twins galore.

The fabulous Nana Hotel

Directly across from Bangkok's Nana Plaza is the eternal Nana Hotel. This caravansary has been servicing the happy ending needs of travelers since the 60s. I first stayed there in 1991. Nothing much has changed in that time. Men check in with women half their age. The desk clerks smiled without asking for IDs. They know most of the girls by name. Love, lust, happiness, laughter, happy endings, showers, sex ad infinitum.

Certainly a lot more fun than the present Plaza Hotel.

And the food isn't bad either.

NANA HOTEL BANGKOK

4 Nana Tai, Sukhumvit Rd, Bangkok, Thailand

Room rates are reasonable, considering what you save on taxis.

Triple 1,690
Superior
SGL./DBL. 1,690
Deluxe
SGL./DBL. 1,890
Triple 2,290
Suite
SGL./DBL. 2,390
Triple 2,790/3,290
Babycot

No More Free Food at the Oak Room

The Oak Room has been a venerable dining destination for New Yorkers and travelers since its opening in 1905. Despite the baronial setting the food never achieved notice for epicurean splendor and the new owners of the Plaza decided to challenge this old New York tradition by hiring Joël Antunes as chef. The Frenchman had learned his trade at Bangkok's fabled Oriental Hotel and his high-flying cuisine seemed an apt fit for the palates of New York in 2008. No one took into consideration the sea change in the economy or the ineptitude of the restaurant's executive staff. None of them were New Yorkers, but I had nothing to do with them as a diamantaire in the Plaza's Retail Collection.

Joel was a different story. He recognized me from my years as the physionomiste of the Bains-Douches in Paris. "Would you care for something to eat?"

It was a pleasure to sit in the kitchen with the chef.

Lobster salad, onion soup, turbot. Every meal a delight. Strangely something happened on the way from the ovens to the table in the Oak Room. Dinners were less than satisfactory and in the first weeks of February the New York Times and then the New Post lambasted the food and the service. Joel was given his walking papers. He made me a last lunch. Dover sole. It was excellent. As I walked out of the kitchen, I waved goodbye to the staff.

Next up a kosher steak house for the Oak Room.

It's something the owners know how to do.

The Sacrifice of Lent

In 1962 the pope convened his cardinals for an ecumenical council aimed at modernizing the Catholic Church. The most noticeable change came with the abandonment of Latin for the litany of the Mass. No more 'mea culpas' or 'sanctus sactus sanctus'. The priests intoned the ancient texts in English slowly stripping stripping the mystery from Sunday. I stopped going to church after graduating from St. Mary's of the Foothill, except for high holidays such as Easter or Christmas. My last confession was said in 1967. I haven't prayed to 'God' in 20 years, however some practices resisted my apostasy.

I light candles before the statue of St. Brigid of Clare in St. Padraic's Cathedral, because this pagan-born saint bears the same name as a powerful Druidic goddess of the pagan, Brigid was the goddess of fire, dedicated to enlightening mankind through music, arts, and poetry. Her feast day coincides with Groundhog's Day. I also celebrate St. Padriac's Day with the holy sacrament of Beer. Lastly every Ash Wednesday I submit to placing ashes on my forehead. This rite dates back to the dawn of time as a act of repentance and most certainly I have done some bad things over the yearly cycle. This year I got my ashes (from burnt palm leaves) from my niece.

No priest for me.

"What are you giving up for Lent?" she asked as we strolled down 5th Avenue.

"Hard liquor and cigarettes." I had consumed my fill at a Mardi Gras party.

"I'm giving up Diet-Coke." Courtney is a very devote Coke drinker.

"Does that mean you're switching to Pepsi."

"My lips have never touched a Pepsi."

This was a big sacrifice for someone in their 20s.

"I'll give it up too." I had drank a Diet-Coke the previous day. "But nothing else."

Porno-surfing would have been more extreme, but there are a limit to my dedication to ancient Church rites and porno is my greatest sin. At least this year.

"Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return."

E=MC(squared) in the words of the Church.

The Best of Days

Every Tuesday morning Earl flew into New York from Boston for meetings at his investment firm's main office. Traffic on the highway from the airport was lighter than the previous month. A telling sign of the failing economy. No wait at the Midtown Tunnel's tollbooths was another. The drive to 57th Street and Madison Avenue took five minutes less than in 2008. The town car stopped before the gleaming skyscraper housing the firm's headquarters. Earl almost tipped the driver $5, instead he handed him a $10. Things were bad, but not that bad. Earl changed this assessment upon entering the lobby. Only one guard manned the welcome desk. Last month there had been three. Companies were cutting staff and not just from the bottom. He stepped into the elevator. It hadn't been cleaned this week and he held his breath on the brief trip to the 17th floor.

A firm believer in maintaining a good facade Earl stepped out of the elevator with the intention of exuding the confidence of a man who just penned an agreement with a billionaire, then almost stopped in his tracks upon seeing the brokers' glum faces.

"What's up?" Earl asked a sweating salesman.

"Market's tanking again."

"How bad?" It wasn't even 10am. There was no shouting from the trading pit and this was a crew that never shut up.

"Bad." The trader shook his head. The stock market had entered a dimension where every vector pointed down and the staff wore the misery of the last months like cheap oleo on Wonder Bread in a homeless shelter.

"Bad is good." Earl stood up straight, knowing it was one thing to be defeated and another to look it. He strode to his corner suite, as if it was still in 2005. No one else bothered to join his parade.

"Good morning." His secretary greeted him without mentioning his name.

"Why the sad face? Everything is going to be fine." Derek handed his Brooks Brothers overcoat to Josie. He could smell massacre in the air and locked his office door before calling his boss.

"What's up?" Earl looked out the window on East 57th Street. Only a few pedestrians were on the sidewalk and the lights atop the taxis indicated none of them had passengers.

"Nothing special." His boss was a master of deception.

"Nothing special. Everyone in the office looks like someone strangled their puppy. Who's getting axed?" Earl's sales were down 50% from 2007, which was 200% better than the other earners in his firm.

"We're shaking of the tree to get rid of some dead wood. Not you. I promise." His boss spoke about the advantage of a leaner executive staff and the opportunities presenting by the current challenges. Earl thanked him for his honesty and thirty seconds later was on the phone with a VP of Sales for a Swiss Bank. They offered him a new position. The pay was less than he earned in 2007, but his salary was based on sales.

"Whatever you kill, you get to keep." The VP of Sales used that expression, because every autumn he hunted moose in Northern Ontario.

"That's the way I like it." Earl had once accompanied the VP to the near-frozen wasteland. The banker had missed every shot. Finally Earl paid the guide to shoot at the same time as the banker. One dead moose and ever since then the banker had considered Earl good luck.

He hung up and asked Josie for a list of his calls.

"None of them are happy calls."

"This isn't a happy time of year." Earl shut the door and scanned the calls. Everyone wanted cash out their investments. None of them were getting a cent in 2008. The last two months had exposed the wealth of the nation to be a scam. One number stuck out in the list. It was his cousin. Earl was working at the Plaza Hotel selling diamonds. Earl checked his calendar. Tonight was an open date and he dialed the Diamantaire of the Plaza. He could use a break.

"You open for dinner tonight?" Earl knew the answer. His cousin had no plans other than to return to Thailand.

"Where?"

"Your choice. Money's no object." Losing your job was one thing. Not eating at a good restaurant was another.

"Le Bernadin is 4 star. My friend is the maitre de, so we don't need reservations."

"I'll meet you at 6."

"Come to the diamond store. You know where the Plaza is."

"Of course." He had been avoiding the Plaza, because his cousin wanted him to buy his wife an anniversary present. They had been married almost 30 years. Last year they had been contemplating a gala event for a hundred. Now the plans were for a quiet dinner together. Tonight he could celebrate the anniversary of the his bachelor party. His cousin would be his best man and he eagerly said, "I'll see you then."

The rest of the day was punctuated by security escorting several people from the office. Survivors wagered bets on who would be next to go in this round of 'musical chairs'. The bloodletting didn't stop until the market closed with a slight rally. over for this day. Earl ended the day in the black.

"Good day. Good to have you here." His boss bumped his fist on the way out. "care to go to Philippe's for drinks?"

"No thanks. I'm going to meet my cousin." Philippe's meant footing a bill for Opus 1 wine. Each bottle cost $700. His cousin was a cheaper date and he didn't need to be in a restaurant packed with shouting investment bankers. The volume of their conversation increased according to their desperation.

"Your mysterious cousin." His boss asked to meet Derek on several occasions. Earl knew it was better for those twains to never run into each other. His cousin didn't know how to keep his mouth shut about anything.

"I'll see you tomorrow bright and early."

A light rain accompanied Earl the two blocks to the Plaza. Few stores were crowded with shoppers. FAO Schwartz was the exception, however he noted those exiting the world-famous toy store on 5th Avenue were carrying smaller packages than previous years. The rain drops got heavier as he passed the dry fountain before the hotel. The doorman greet him with a tipped cap. "Going to see Derek?"

"Who else?" Earl cuffed the doorman $5 for this greeting. Some gestures remained sacred in a world without wealth.

Earl passed through the outer lobby and turned right at the Palm Court in the direction of the Oak Bar. He would call his cousin from the bar. Trader Vic's and the Oyster Bar had been evicted from the newly-renovated Plaza, leaving the Oak bar as the only destination for anyone visiting the hotel. Several tourists peered inside the Oak Bar as if someone famous was at the bar. Earl recognized no one, which was good, since he didn't want to speak to anyone from work.

At the bar Orlando took his order and Earl phoned his cousin. He could tell Derek was disappointed that he wasn't coming down to his shop. No one really wanted to buy diamonds in this economy. Beer seemed to be selling better than martinis at the bar, but even Budweiser was taking a hit this winter. Three bankers in the corner were drinking heavier than normal. A man and his wife were fighting over the bill. She had never paid before. Five British tourists were drinking beer as if England had won the World Cup. Earl drank half his beer in one go. Two seconds later he ordered another for Derek, who joined him at the bar.

"How's work?" Derek drank half his glass to catch up with Earl. They signaled Umberto for two more Stellas.

"It's been a tough year, but don't worry, we're going to have a super dinner tonight. When can we leave?"

"I don't think yet." Derek looked out the window. The drizzle had intensified to a downpour.

"What's the food like here?" Earl examined his cousin. He had gained weight since his return from Thailand last summer. His hair was grayer too.

"Life's been tough this year." Derek confessed without any guilt. "Same for everyone, but last year was worst. Always is if you start it with an arrest in a foreign country."

"But that's all over?" Earl had heard the story about Derek getting caught in Thailand for copyright infringement. He was lucky not to be in jail.

"Yeah, I'm still persona grata. Let's finish these and get a table." Derek settled the bar bill and they were escorted to the dining room by a fashionable blonde. Earl heeded the sommelier's suggestion for a Bourgogne and the two men drank two bottles throughout dinner. The chef came up with dessert. Crepes Suzettes on the house. The bill came to $900. Mostly for the wine. After calling his wife at the coat check, they went outside to 59th Street.

The rain hadn't let up.

"Where to?"

"I have a big sale tomorrow." Derek was bailing on him.

"And what about going for a massage?" Earl was sure that his cousin hadn't had sex in months. "It's on me."

"No, I don't like those old hookers."

"What about a strip club?"

"Don't like Russians, but I'll tell you something. A friend of mine called today with a tip."

"A tip?" Earl remembered that JP Morgan said, "When your taxi driver gives you a tip, it's time to get out of the stock market."

"Yes, the market is really going to tank all week long."

"And?" He wasn't in the mood to hear more bad news.

"Then it's going to nosedive to 6000."

"Who's your informant?"

The name Derek whispered was well-known through the financial markets. "We did drugs together in the 80s. Of course this information can't help me and probably can't help you, but at least you'll be prepared if it comes true."

"To be honest it doesn't matter. The whole world is fucked right now. So what's the use?" Earl was feeling tired. Everything he knew was valueless. The meal in his stomach felt like dust. The wine burned his esophagus. This crisis was killing him and his cousin sensed his loss.

"Okay, strippers. But only for a few hours."

"That's more like it." Earl could forget today in the arms of a stripper. And tomorrow he could forget until then, because today was the best of days.

New Missile Threat

For decades Americans have been concerned about a missile attack from a hostile country. Mushroom clouds rising over Topeka, Kansas. Our people annihilated by a first strike from the USSR, Red China, or France. These attacks never occurred throughout the Cold War, but the fear never faded from our consciousness either. In recent years GW Bush spoke of the specter of the Axis of Evil; Iran, North Korea, and Iraq. These rogue nations cast a shadow on the peace and prosperity of the USA. Citing Weapons of Mass Destruction he convinced the nation to back the invasion of Iraq. Our military overthrew the Saddam regime. Our inspectors discovered the absolute absence of WMDs. Iran was embargoed for pursuing nuclear research. Our diplomatic efforts to isolate the Islamic republic failed without exception, however Iran's missiles haven't the range to reach Topeka or even Euro-Disney. North Korea on the other hand can strike the Aleutian island of Attu. Population 20. People might think now is a new day for peace around the world, however the USA must remain vigilant against any threat and none poses a greater risk to our safety than the rocketeers of Thailand.

These seemingly playful missilemen might cloak their scientific acumen with a smile, but the CIA will not relent in the hunt for insane terrorists.

Thailand.

We are not fooled by your hankypanky.

We have our eyes and ears on you.

Rockets Away

My older brother is a pyromaniac. He came close to burning down each of our houses and those of our neighbors on several occasions. His fiery obsession boiled over to explosive devices and we would devise rockets from our mother's discarded hair spray cans. Our launch area was a nearby sandpit. The fuse was a simple fire. Some would exploded and others would arced across the sky at low altitudes spitting toxic flames. Neither of us suffered injuries from these experiments, however the town police warned our parents that we were constituted a danger to the community. My older brother obeyed their orders to abandon his worship of fire. I also heeded their command.

Even at my parochial high school I resisted the draw of the rocket club. Instead I ran cross country in the fall. Our course took runners past an old mansion. Other schools were never forewarned that they had to leap a stone wall to cross through the estate. This gave us an edge and my school won two consecutive state championships. Our dominance was challenged by a mysterious government agency purchasing the mansion. The men occupying the estate wore white shirts and black ties. My friend Jamie Parker said they were CIA experimenting on apes. The brothers were informed that the grounds were off-limits to the cross-country team. We lost our first race that season.

When the brothers asked for special access for these bi-weekly races, the men in the white shirts refused their request without a smile. We called them assholes, but had no other recourse other than to train harder to beat our competitors. Few people cared about the track team. Our school's football team was state champs. They had cheerleaders from the nearest Catholic girls school Our only fans were the rocket club. They said that this matter was not over. No one paid them much mind. They were nerds and the cross-country team worried that nerdiness might be contagious. We won the next race. I barely beat out our rival's 5th runner. Afterward the rocket club glared at the distant mansion and then exchanged a conspiratorial glance.

The next day they announced an exhibition of their rocket skills. This was the time of going to the moon and the brothers proudly assembled the students in the field behind the high school. We were instructed to stand a good distance from the launch area. The rockets were not small. One of them was at least ten-feet long. The rocket club signaled they were ready and soon missiles were soaring into the sky. Even the football team thought the rocket club was cool. The brothers beamed with satisfaction, thinking maybe one of these boys might end up at NASA, until they pointed the 10-foot missile at an angle. Off in the distance a few of the men in the white shirts were standing outside the mansion. The rocket club lined up the final missile, the ten-footer, at a funny angle. It took us a few seconds to realize that the trajectory would take it very close to the mansion. The men at the mansion started shouting and then the president of the rocket club lit the fuse. They ran from the missile and the men in the white shirts ran for cover.

It took about a seconds for the missile to cover the half-mile between the field and mansion. The explosion was muffled by out applause. The men in thew white shirts complained to the brothers. The police ignored the incident, since some of their kids were on the track team. We received permission to run through the field a week later and won the state championship thanks to regaining our advantage.

No one ever said anything bad about nerds in our school.

They were heroes, because they were dangerous.

At least to anyone not on our side and that's the way it should be when you're young.

ps my older brother was really pissed that he hadn't been there.

Missile Defense

My older brother is a pyromaniac. He came close to burning down each of our houses and those of our neighbors on several occasions. His fiery obsession boiled over to explosive devices and we would devise rockets from our mother's discarded hair spray cans. Our launch area was a nearby sandpit. The fuse was a simple fire. Some would exploded and others would arced across the sky at low altitudes spitting toxic flames. Neither of us suffered injuries from these experiments, however the town police warned our parents that we were constituted a danger to the community. My older brother obeyed their orders to abandon his worship of fire. I also heeded their command.

Even at my parochial high school I resisted the draw of the rocket club. Instead I ran cross country in the fall. Our course took runners past an old mansion. Other schools were never forewarned that they had to leap a stone wall to cross through the estate. This gave us an edge and my school won two consecutive state championships. Our dominance was challenged by a mysterious government agency purchasing the mansion. The men occupying the estate wore white shirts and black ties. My friend Jamie Parker said they were CIA experimenting on apes. The brothers were informed that the grounds were off-limits to the cross-country team. We lost our first race that season.

When the brothers asked for special access for these bi-weekly races, the men in the white shirts refused their request without a smile. We called them assholes, but had no other recourse other than to train harder to beat our competitors. Few people cared about the track team. Our school's football team was state champs. They had cheerleaders from the nearest Catholic girls school Our only fans were the rocket club. They said that this matter was not over. No one paid them much mind. They were nerds and the cross-country team worried that nerdiness might be contagious. We won the next race. I barely beat out our rival's 5th runner. Afterward the rocket club glared at the distant mansion and then exchanged a conspiratorial glance.

The next day they announced an exhibition of their rocket skills. This was the time of going to the moon and the brothers proudly assembled the students in the field behind the high school. We were instructed to stand a good distance from the launch area. The rockets were not small. One of them was at least ten-feet long. The rocket club signaled they were ready and soon missiles were soaring into the sky. Even the football team thought the rocket club was cool. The brothers beamed with satisfaction, thinking maybe one of these boys might end up at NASA, until they pointed the 10-foot missile at an angle. Off in the distance a few of the men in the white shirts were standing outside the mansion. The rocket club lined up the final missile, the ten-footer, at a funny angle. It took us a few seconds to realize that the trajectory would take it very close to the mansion. The men at the mansion started shouting and then the president of the rocket club lit the fuse. They ran from the missile and the men in the white shirts ran for cover.

It took about a seconds for the missile to cover the half-mile between the field and mansion. The explosion was muffled by out applause. The men in thew white shirts complained to the brothers. The police ignored the incident, since some of their kids were on the track team. We received permission to run through the field a week later and won the state championship thanks to regaining our advantage.

No one ever said anything bad about nerds in our school.

They were heroes, because they were dangerous.

At least to anyone not on our side and that's the way it should be when you're young.

ps my older brother was really pissed that he hadn't been there.

St. Valentine's Day Massacre / BET ON CRAZY by Peter Nolan Smith

Valentine's Day is celebrated by lovers around the world. Men buy cashmere scarves, lingerie, roses, Swiss chocolates, and jewelry for their girlfriends and lovers. This romantic holiday does not possess the same value as Christmas or their partners' birthday, but you can't do nothing, unless you're seriously considering a break-up or enjoy living in the doghouse for an unforeseen period of time and this Valentine Day a friend recommended my store to an associate.

Alex showed up at noon. A smile on his face. His budget was $3000.

"How long you been going out this woman?" $3000 was more than most men spent on their wives all year and 2009 was not a particularly good year for most of us.

"Six months." Alex sounded like they were still having sex.

"Really." $3000 was more than I'd spend on one go for a casual relationship. "What she do?"

"She's from the Ukraine. Studied at University of London and works at the Bank of America."

"Oh." According to my calculations Alex was about one zero away from making this woman happy with jewelry and I pulled out diamond hoops for $15000.

"Way too much." Alex owned a high-tech company. Business was okay. His budget was his budget. Most men were avoiding jewelry stores like toxic waste dumps, so I showed him a pair of Italian diamond earrings. They had 2 carats in diamonds set in 18K white gold flower design. I had sold several other pairs over the last month. I had guaranteed each male customer a happy ending, but suspected that might not be the case for Alex, so I asked my diamond associate for her assessment of the diamond earrings. She's Russian, young, and adores jewelry. Her engagement ring came from Jacob and Company. Her mother-in-law runs Moscow's largest jewelry store. She examined the earrings and asked Alex, "How long you been with your girlfriend?"

"Six months. She's petite. Like a ballerina."

"The earrings cost $3000."

"They are beautiful. Italian too." Danni was telling the truth. We always do, mostly because it is easier to remember than a lie.

"I'll take them." Alex paid the $3000 without haggling for a lower price. We gave him a nice box. It was a classic ring-box-go sale.

"If you don't get a happy ending, I'll give the money back." It was our standard offer.

After Alex left, I called my boss. Richie Boy was at the Palm Beach Antiques Show. He wasn't happy with the sale. There was only $500 profit. "He's a friend of a friend."

"Oh, great." He had to share the profit with me.

"Better than nothing." I hung up the phone and put the money in the safe minus my commission. My Valentine's Day plan was food and sleep. The previous night I had suffered through a downpour of margaritas. The train to Brooklyn was crowded with couples carrying Valentine Day gifts. They wore smiling faces. My effort had made Alex happy. I spent $10 of my commish on a Mexican dinner and fell into bed with Pier Brendon's THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE. Within three pages I was out cold and didn't wake until 8am.

It was Sunday morning. I called my wife in Thailand. She was happy to hear from me and my daughter wished me much love. The store in the Plaza wasn't opening until noon, so my wake-up process lasted longer than normal. I read a little more of the book. England had really put it to India. I left my hovel in Williamsburg at 11:30. The subway was empty and I arrived at work a little past 12. My co-worker, Jo-jo, was waiting on the couch. His face wore a veneer of exhaustion. He said he had yet to go to bed.

"No big deal. Sundays are a snooze at the Plaza." No one in Midtown usually got up before one. "No one will come here before 3."

I was wrong.

Alex showed up several minutes later. The chagrin on his face revealed the answer to my question, "How'd it go?"

"Not good." He sat down with the weight of disaster.

"Let me guess." The $240 in my pocket didn't feel like mine anymore.

"Last night we were going to the ballet. She came out of her bedroom in a dress which looked like it was woven out of the wind. On her ears were two-inch long strands of diamonds. They were antiques. Looked like her family stole them from the czar. I handed her the box."

"The box." I had luckily given him an expensive box. "It cost over $20."

"She looked for a name."

"Oh." There was no name on the box. It was elegant, but anonymous.

"She opened it and her face dropped like I had called her mother a bad name. "She examined the earrings and said, "You have to be kidding." She didn't stop either."

Most women like her don't when they're on a good roll realizing the man was defenseless.

"She said they looked like they cost $600. Said they were for a kid." Alex was reliving the pain from his failed offering with this retelling.

"Enough already. I blew it. It's my fault." I went into the safe and counted out his money. He handed over the offending gift and I returned his cash. The bills were still crisp. I shrugged and said, "I don't know what to say."

Actually that wasn't the truth. Several bad words floated at the tip of my tongue.

"I don't know whether to leave her or not."

"There's only one thing you can do at a time like this." It was Valentine's Day. Both my wives had called to wish me love. Alex's day of romance had been ruined by this unfeeling chuva which is a bad word in Yiddish, so I said the only thing possible, "do what you think is best."

It was non-committal and exactly what he wanted to hear, because any advice form me would be seen in a negative light. I had ruined his Valentine's Day.

"Thanks for taking care of this." Alex held up the money. "This girl might come by to check out this place. she's that type of girl."

"No problem." I waved good-bye. "I'll be polite."

After Alex walked away, Jo-Jo said, "That sucks."

I ordered Jo-Jo to T the G or follow Alex for several blocks. He came back and said the lovelorn executive had beelined into Van Cleef.

"Sucker."

"Yeah." I phoned Richie Boy with the bad news. He took it with grace. We've lost bigger sales this year.

"That fucking cunt. A guy gives her a gift for $3000 and she shits on it. I can't believe it."

"First time it happened to me."

"Stay long enough in this business and you'll see everything." And not all of it was good, for around 2:30pm a small blonde in designer clothing entered the store. A wide-brimmed hat hid her face. She was no ballerina in my book, but Alex must have been a different performance of SWAN LAKE than me. She examined the jewelry and I pulled out the earrings.

"You mind if I ask you a question?"

"No." The thirtyish woman was dowdy, but she wasn't telling the truth. She wanted out of here.

"If someone gave you this for Valentine's Day. How would you feel? Good? Bad? It cost me $2300. Maybe it's a little girlish for you. Women in their 40s like something bigger."

"I'm not 40."

"50." I was being mean. Someone had to be for Alex.

She huffed out of the store. Jo-Jo gave me the thumb's up. He was happy that I revenged her slight. I would have been happier with Alex's money in my pocket, but sometimes you have to settle for what you can get. Some days that's all there is, because beauty is in the hands of the holder.

"

Missile Command

The creation of a missile shield to protect America from nuclear attack has been the dream of the Pentagon for decades. Billions have been spent on Star Wars technology without any of the tests achieving their goal. President Bush push the concept of the anti-ballistic system on Eastern Europe with the expected result that the Russians sought to counter this 'threat' with a show of force, most notably in Georgia, where their troops soundly beat the Georgians, despite out technical support.

I had hoped with the arrival of President Obama that these schemes would be put to sleep, however the new president is taking nothing off the table and only last week ordered missile strikes on Taliban targets in Pakistan. Now it has come to light that Special Forces are training the Pakistan troops, even though the Pakistan president has signed a non-aggression pact with the Muslim extremist allowing them to set up Sharia or Islamic law in the Valley of Swat.

More missiles.

The Pentagon likes them.

You can sit at home and watch the action on TV as if you were playing the old Sega game MISSILE COMMAND, only you were the attacker instead of the defender. Die Die Die.

Barack Obama is of the age to have played that game.

And so are the rest of us.

A good attack is the best form of attack.

Personally I think he's being railroaded by the hawks in the Pentagon.

"Mr. President, the target is acquired."

At one point he will have to say, "No."

Because these things are no accurate, unless you believe what the Pentagon tells you.

And no one is such a fool like that anymore.

Better Than The Louvre

Helmut Newton - Genuis

Rejection notice from literary agent

A month ago I was surprised to receive an email from a literary agent interested in my semi-fiction piece BET ON CRAZY. These vignettes cover my years as a diamond dealer on West 47th Street in New York. This interest was unsolicited, so I took special care to present my writing in the right light in hopes of getting published. Instead the agent rejected my offering.

Here's her letter.

Hi Peter-

These stories are certainly interesting and I found your writing very engaging but I am afraid ultimately I didn’t see the book here. The publishing industry is having a difficult time right now and for me to take on a new client I need to be quite confident I can sell it well- I am afraid I didn’t have the necessary enthusiasm to take this on for representation.

No commerical value. No sell-out.

"Please let me sell-out."
Please remember that publishing is a business of opinions and mine is just one. Thanks so much for thinking of me and I wish you the best of luck in placing it elsewhere.

Best,

Agent

I thanked her for the interest and went back to writing my novel about teenage devil worship in the 1960s, where a young boy sells his soul to the Devil in order to save his parents' marriage.

Fly Honda Civic Fly

In 1982 I drove a VW Golf GTI up to Paris to Bruxelles. My mission was to pick up Valdmar, a New York DJ at the aeroport. He was going to spin records at the Rex for the magazine Actuel. On the way I noticed Benzs and BMWs cruising at 180 KPH or 100 mph and decided to see how much go the GTI had in its 1.8 Liter engine. 180 was easy. So was 200. I top-ended at 220 KPH or 150 mph. I have never driven that fast since and few people in the USA believe this story, however just this week NY State Troopers caught 1993 Honda Civic going 137 mph on I-84.

He was ticketed for speeding, reckless driving and having vehicle windows with illegal tint.

But permitted to continue on his drive.

137 is fast but 150 is faster.

The fastest the french Police ever radared a vehicle was 320 KPH or 210 mph.

They never even bothered to chase him, but roadblock his escape at the tollbooth.

210 is really fast.

But I have one question for the driver in New York.

"Where the hell were you going that you needed to go that fast?

"MacDonalds?"

Goodbye GTO

The US Government has given GM billions of dollars to save America's largest car maker. The Detroit corporation is still in need. $15 billion this time and the executives have even offered to eliminate several brand names from their inventory, most notably Pontiac, thus ending any real reason for the company to exist in the future.

GM hasn't come out with a good car in years.

The last one coming to mind is the GTO from Pontiac.

The GTO or 'Goat' emerged as the first muscle car in 1964. The Arab Oil Embargo ended its production in 1974, although Holden of Australia came out with a new version from 2004 to 2006. The GTO was every boy's dream car in the 60s. Red. Fast. Thunder.

The brainchild of John deLorean was the result of GM banning their designers from developing race cars. Pontiac engineer Russell Gee, an engine specialist, and Bill Collins, a chassis engineer, transformed the mild-mannered Tempest into a street machine rivalling the Ferrari 250. Its 6.5 Liter engine could beat any other car off the line. My friend, Bush, had a 1966 GTO. He would place $10 on the dashboard and bet every passenger that they couldn't grab the bill before he hit 4th gear. We were all pinned to the bucket seat by the Gs of V-8 acceleration.

It was a monster car.

They never made anything since.

I saw one in Maine this summer.

The owner wanted $15,000.

I felt 17 sitting behind the wheel.

$15,000,000,000 for one million GTOs.

That's worth saving GM.

Arthur Lee - Seven and Seven Is

It's winter in New York.

Rain and cold, but sometimes somethings make me think forward to the Spring.

Such as Arthur Lee performing SEVEN AND SEVEN IS with the Lemon Drops.

Check out this URL

love - seven and seven is

For a related article click on this URL

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEC4LWbI1VU&feature=related

Does Anyone Miss This Guy

A month has passed since GW Bush left the White House.

Does anyone miss him?

Check out the collection of GW idiot photos from the New York Daily News.

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/politics/galleries/george_w_bush_the_lamest_duck_ever/george_w_bush_the_lamest_duck_ever.html#ph0

The Art Of War Chez la Pentagon

During the Viet-Nam war some bright minds decided to inject elephants with flatulence medicine in hopes of flushing the VC out of the jungle with the pachyderms' farts. The strategy failed to take into consideration windage and several grunt mahouts were hospitalized with severe methane poisoning ala JACKASS 2.

The Pentagon attracts more schemers than dreamers and recently Counter-intelligence pundits were planning on distributing Viagra to the mountain soldiers in Afghanistan. Supposedly the penile hardener would ameliorate the heroes' breathing ability in the high altitudes. Church leaders close to the White House forced Donald Rumsfeld to abandon this tactic, fearing that men separated from the wives for years at a time would turn to homosexuality if constantly aroused by Viagra.

Better they chew coca leaves.

These two failures haven't deterred the Pentagon think tanks from new follies.

Now it's anti-terrorist dolphins and seals.

The US Navy has trained dozens of dolphins and sea lions to detect and apprehend waterborne attackers. The first test would send 30 California sea lions and Atlantic Bottlenose dolphins from the Navy's Marine Mammal Program in San Diego to protect Kitsap-Bangor Naval base on the Puget Sound from crafty sea swimming Arab terrorists and anti-war activists.

Environmentalist complain that the US Navy is endangering the sea mammals by putting them in colder waters than their native California, however the Navy says that they have fabricated special wet suits for the seals and dolphins, enabling them to endure the frigid seas for hours.

"Another consideration is that the dolphins can't racial profile, so they will check out anyone in the water, not just Arabs or Muslims." A Navy spokesman said and then added, "We are also thinking about giving them Viagra to the dolphins to increase their blood flow to heat their body better.

A bad idea.

A man in the UK was arrested by the police for sexually abusing a harbor dolphin. He was cleared after marine biologists confirmed that male dolphins often extend their penises as a sign of greeting. The man was given probation and order to stay 20 feet from the shoreline.

Of course dolphins on Viagra would please female swimmers in the Bahamas who fornicate with the sea-going studs above a shallow shoal off a coral reef. This zoophilic practice was mentioned in Ted Mooney's 1981 novel EASY TRAVEL TO SMALL PLANETS, in which Navy researchers have sexual liaisons with the dolphins they are trained for anti-terrorist protection.

The Pentagon once more.

In reality the Navy wants to replace its marine mammal program with machines. "But the technology just isn't there yet. The value of the marine mammals is we've been doing this for 35 years and we've ironed out all the kinks."

Tell that to the girls in the Bahamas.

The male dolphin's penis is 10-14 inches in length and can come 14 feet.

Hello John Holmes Flipper.

Can a girl shake your hand?

The actress Jessica Alba told MTV that during the filming of FLIPPER that several of her aquatic co-stars hit on her. "I don't know if anybody knows this but dolphins get excited, even when you are a human being - and they have long, long... (penises). I didn't know this until I was being poked by a few of them, which was very rude. I think I learned my lesson. I sort of request female dolphins after that because those are horny little bastards."

A Funnier Onion

The Onion just got funnier with their video lambasting Sony. I haven't bought anything from them in years, but none of us could have lived with the Sony Trinitron. Times changed and now Sony is renown for one thing.

ANOTHER PIECE OF SHIT

Check out this URL

http://www.theonion.com/content/video/sony_releases_new_stupid_piece_of

We Will Bury You

2/19 The New York Stock exchange fresh off a three-day weekend sought more bottom ground this Tuesday morning by dropping 300 points or 4% off Fridays' Closing Number. More voodoo economic wealth going poof, as the bad news keeps coming in waves. California is broke. Kansas is re-neging on tax refunds. Trump Casino rolled craps. The Big Three automakers are fighting Labor over health care. Even worse Australian housseholders will be taxed for each time they flushed the toilet.

What is this world coming to?

The end of capitalism?

In the words of Nikita Khrushchev, "We will bury you."

And with the Kremlin is offering to purchase an Oregon steel mill, it sounds like the grave is already dug, however don't count out the ruling elite yet. They've been in this position before and come out of it just as Buffy and Derek as always.

From WIKPEDIA

On August 24, 1963, Khrushchev himself remarked in his speech in Yugoslavia, "I once said, 'We will bury you,' and I got into trouble with it. Of course we will not bury you with a shovel. Your own working class will bury you," [4] a reference to the Marxist saying, "The proletariat is the undertaker of capitalism"; a popular articulation of the materialist conception of history as the inevitable progression of class struggle towards communism.

For a related article click on this URL

http://www.mangozeen.com/2008/08/05/war/the-surrender-army.htm

Thai Royal Pardon

Most farangs refer to Thai jail as 'the monkey house' or 'kook'. Each year hundreds of westerners, mostly men, are imprisoned by the Thai police for crimes ranging from assault to drugs. Most are lucky enough to purchase their freedom with 'persona non grata' stamped on their passport at the airport, but few are subjected to prosecution for crimes of lese majeste such as the Australian writer, Harry Nicolaides, who is serving the minimum sentence of three-years for defaming the royal family in his novel. It could have been 15 years. VERRSIMILITUDE only sold seven copies. Seven too many for the honor of Thailand, although Bangkok prison authorities have forwarded a pardon request to the Corrections Department in hopes that the petition will reach the royal palace within the next few months. The King is the father of Thailand and he is deserving of the greatest respect as the longest-serving monarch in the world as the true protector of his people.

May he live forever.

Teenage Duel for Fatherhood

Some stories have a life of their own and the tale of a 13 year-old UK boy fathering a baby with a 15 year-old schoolgirl girlfriend has grown legs with the claim from another teenage boy that he is the true father of lil Maise and that he is willing to take a DNA test to prove it.

The young girl disavowed the news saying, “There has been no one else. I love Alfie. I lost my virginity to him. We decided to start a physical relationship because we love each other. There has been no one else. He gets very jealous when I talk to other boys and I don’t like him talking to other girls. Other stupid boys are lying.”

Other boys?

Two teenage boys have told the Press or 'the Slime' that they are potential fathers since they had shared intimacy with Chantelle at her house, but her four-foot beau, Alfie, swears, “I am the only boyfriend Chantelle’s had — and we’ve been together for two years.

The one of the other boys smirked, saying, “It was routine for boys to stay over with Chantelle in her bed. But I only slept with her the once.”

Personally I don't know what to think. At least it wasn't an Immaculate Conception like LA's Octomom.

Ban Oregon Beer Tax

Oregon has created a positive atmosphere for beer-brewing by taxing the brewers at a modest rate. 2009 is not 2008 and five state lawmakers have introduce a bill aimed at taxing each barrel of beer almost $50 to fill the state's coffers and finance alcoholism treatment.

I haven't been to Oregon since 1999. I drank a few of the home-brews. They were good, but nothing I'd want to drink day in and day out. I'm faithful to Stella Artois, the wife-beater, but I am extremely against any taxes on beer for religious purposes.

Beer is the sacramental wine of the Church of Beer. and as a devote Beermasian I protest any taxation cutting into our ability to worship the amber liquid.

The lawmakers have to be GOP.

I like to blame everything stupid on them.

Best Beer Ad

I don't drink Miller, but I like their ads better than Bud.

HELP ET

World leaders are increasingly concerned about the collapse of the global economy. No one has an answer to the problems, mostly because the problems multiply every day. I personally have been looking to the sky for our redemption. Not in the form of angels blowing clarion horns, but UFOs piloted by ETs looking to pay retail for everything we have on Earth. This is a wild dream, since our planet is located on the fringe of the galaxy far from the flow of interstellar traffic, however the universe is changing shape all the time and we can only hope that within the next six months a fleet of entertainment-hungry aliens notice the third rock from the Sun.

This hope was crushed yesterday by the sighting of a UFO flaming through the stratosphere.

Government officials claimed the phenomena was caused by the collision of a US and Soviet satellite. I know better. It was a friendly mission from the farthest reaches of the stars. They wanted to buy SUVs at the going rate. McMansions too. Instead their spacecraft struck low-orbit debris. Texans watched its fall from grace with awe.

There is no God

God-worshippers like to say, "There are no aethists in a foxhole."

I've never experienced the horror of WWI, although my grandfather served in France as a medical doctor along with my grandmother. She never spoke much about it, but somehow in my mind I think those years lessened her belief in the bearded Almighty.

My horror came three years in the form of a nervous breakdown. The causes were multiple and my treatment was self-induced catatonia mixed with suicidal urges, however throughout this dilemma I promised myself that I would never pray to god and I never did. Not once, so I was proud to hear President Obama acknowledge non-believers in his inaugerational speech.

I respect the right of others to think Gods or god exist, while I acknowledge there is a spirituality not needing a celestial spokesperson to define the divine.

We are all gods.

Not particularly good ones, but gods no less.

Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh

I haven't watched TV in 9 months. The entire time I've been back in the USA. Eric's Palm Beach house had not TV. Malinda's farm had no TV. Walter's apartment in Williamsburg has no TV. I really don't miss it, because I've taken up reading instead of mindlessly worshipping the offerings of western consumerism..

When I was a kid, my father used to say, "You'll end up a loser watching that crap."

And he was right, so I have abandoned television for literature and recently read Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh. This 2008 novel about the opium trade between India and China is a ruthless indictment on the high-minded cruelty of the British Empire echoing harshly in America for our involvement in the heroin trade throughout the world at present. Fortunes are made and lost through the nefarious trade. Mostly made by the nabobs and lost by the natives. This first book of a trilogy recreates the 1830s through a maze of characters destined by coincidence to travel across the 'black water' to a land of demons.

The author's power to bring the reader back in time is a gift without the power of CGI-film. reality based on words and dialogue.

Nothing like it on prime-time or at the cineplex, although SLUMDOG BILLIONAIRE might come close. Certainly not FRIDAY THE 13TH rehash. go to your library and ask for SEA OF POPPIES. It ain't poopie.

Happy Presidents Day - Oh Yeah FU GW Bush

I know that Joe Biden wanted to flip the departing GW the bird.

I would have asked for a Stinger missile launcher, but not done it to prevent the deaths of the innocent soldiers on board or the wives of GW or Cheney. Still it would have been nice to see terror on their faces, for all the evil they caused the world.

Otherwise check out the stiletto heels on Joe Biden's wife.

Santa Claus is Dead

"Sorry, Virginia, there is no more Santa Claus." Parents will be sorely tested next December. No money means no Santa Claus. Children crying, "Where are the reindeers?"

"They have been laid off due to the dire economic conditions."

"Same as the Detroit autoworkers?"

"Good boy." The parents will be glad that the home schooling is improving their children's intellect since the public schools closed due to no funds.

Sounds ominous?

Well, just maybe it is.

1/20th of a Quadrillion Dollar US Debt

"What do you think is the total US government debt?" I asked a young economist in the Columbia University graduate program.

Francesco was smart and took his time to calculate the numbers.

"15 trillion dollars." The sum was the total of the US annual GDP or every single penny made by the nation in a single year.

"Good guess." Back in the 70s a man erected an electronic billboard tracking the US debt on the corner of 6th Avenue and 42nd Street. The largest number I remembered was 6 trillion. This liability indicator backwatered during the Clinton years. The corner stores were sold in the mid-90s, so no one ever had any idea what was happening with what the USA owed to its debtors.

"Was I close?" Francesco smiled thinking he had a grasp of the depth of the problem. 15 trillion dollars was a lot of money. GW Bush could have financed 8 Iraqi wars with that sum.

"Not even warm." I knew the correct amount thanks to www.worldnetnews.com. "Almost times four. Ready?"

"Yes."

"1/20th of a billiard."

"Billiard?"

I'd stumped him with that word.

"Yes, a billiard is another word for a quadrillion."

"50 trillion dollars?" Francesco had done the math.

"Actually it's $65 trillion. I rounded it out to the nearest 50 to make the math easier." Most people had trouble with fractions, especially the voodoo zombie economists of the Bush Administration who did the math on their fingers. Last year they announced the debt to be $400 billion. More like $5 trillion in the real world. I re-did the numbers for Francesco. "It's actually 1/30th of a quadrillion."

"How are we going to pay that?"

"Never will happen. We're banco or bankrupt. Crapped out as a nation thanks to 8 years of this last fuck-up." So no more Iraq War. No more troops in Afghanistan. No SUVs. No McMansions. No more fake millionaires. It's a revolution no one realizes has happened yet. Certainly not the republicans who want to have another round of tax cuts to spark the economy. "The treasury will monetize the debt."

"How?"

"By printing money."

"Meaning hyper-inflation."

"People going to the store with SUVs packed with enough dollars to buy a loaf of bread." Like in the Weimar Republic or Zimbabwe.

So get ready to buy diamonds and gold.

I'm open for business at the Plaza.

Sex Tourists Beware

Despite its reputation as a sex paradise, Thailand is a deeply puritan country whose morality is governed by a respect for the human spirit and last week the Thai police displayed their iron resolve by arresting 13 foreign men, seven Thai women and three foreign women at a Bangkok Hotel for the crime of sexual adventurism. Another couple, farang man and Thai wife, were charged for organizing this criminal behavior.

Police were shocked to discover on the highly-organized raid the spectacle of naked men and women coupling while others drank and danced nearby. The outlaws were told to get clothed, as the police searched the premise for incriminating material. Their labors netted a stash of used condoms, lubricant gel, porno books and CDs and 30 pills of Viagra.

Channel 3 Thailand showed video footage of the raid.

Loose condoms were on the floor. None of the officers touched this evidence as SOP. They were waiting for the CSI squad to arrive. Reportedly the police were tipped off by a jealous husband of one of the farang women. The offenders in this dangerous conspiracy will most certainly be blacklisted from ever entering the country to prevent such an outrage from occurring again.

Girls Are Trouble

13 year-old boys get into trouble. It's the nature of being a boy, but sometimes they have help and it usually comes from the opposite sex if they're lucky. Of course my high school sweetheart wanted to save her virginity until marriage. I respected her wishes. Why we broke up I don't recall, but two weeks later she was shagging Pal Monahan. I remained a virgin until I was 18.

They married later and I wandered the world looking for love.

I found it on several occasions.

So I'm a lucky man too.

Friday the 13th 2009

I can't believe Hollywood came out with another FRIDAY THE 13TH.

I'm sure the teenage heroine doesn't call the police at the first sign of trouble or use a condom like this 13 year-old boy. Thankfully someone is heeding the tneents of the Holy Roman Church.

The baby's name is Maise.

At least they didn't name her Damiene.

Working the Park

The other night I left the Oak Bar to smoke a cigarette on 59th Street. I only smoke when I drink. One cigarette a day is enough. The wind off the park was smelled of the fallen snow. Only a few pedestrians braved the cold. An Asiatic woman with long hair approached me. for a second I thought she was lost, but she knew exactly where she was. Probably more than me.

"Hey, mister, you want sex?" She opened her fur coat. Her body was slender and she wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Sorry, I'm not interested." I have two wives in Thailand. Supporting them is hard enough without donating money to an uptown hooker, but there was no harm in being friendly and a prostitute has a keen eye for money, so I asked, "How's business?"

"Horrible." She tugged her coat shut and shivered, as if she hadn't eaten all day. "I went to the St. Regis. Nothing. Essex House. Nothing. Are you sure you don't want a blowjob? I'm the best you'll ever have."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm married." I flicked the cigarette into the gutter.

"All my customers are married." She hoped this information might weaken my resolve.

"Yes, but I love my wife." Both of them.

"Could you buy me a drink in the bar?" She wanted to get out of the cold.

"A beer and not a drink." Drinks at the Oak Bar started at $18. A Stella Artois was only $9. I didn't mind being a good Samaritan at that price. We entered the bar and the men sitting on the stools checked out my companion. She re-opened her coat as an invitation for more.

"You have any friends here who want some action?"

I didn't get a chance to answer, because a businessman in a pin-striped suit smiled in response to her general come-on.

"You mind?"

"Not at all." I had saved myself $9. She left 10 minutes later with the 'john' and I signaled the bartender for the tab. An extra beer was on the bill. I paid it with a twenty, because even good Samaritans get to be a sucker every once in a while.

ALMOST NEWS - Jocko Weyland Opening

ALMOST NEWS

press photos
from the collection of Jocko Weyland


February 15 - March 28, 2009

opening reception:
Sunday, Feb 15, 6-8 pm


KS ART
73 Leonard Street
New York, NY 10013
212-219-9918
www.kerryschuss.com

press release:http://www.kerryschuss.com/cexrelease.html
images:http://www.kerryschuss.com/cexsw.html

World's 10 Scariest Airports

Last month a plane struck geese while taking off from La Guardia. The engines failed over the Bronx, yet the pilot capably glided the stricken aircraft to a water landing in the Hudson River. No one was injured seriously by the crash and the New York Post splashed headlines atop the front page.

KILL ALL GEESE.

Reports of the jet having issues with its engines have been stifled until the report of the FAA, however the Telegraph of London has published a list of the world most dangerous airports. La Guardia escaped placement, but JFK got the dubious honor of #8.

Here's to you New York, New York.

The list from the Telegraph

World's top 10 scariest airports

Gibraltar Airport. Pinched in by the Mediterranean on its eastern flank and the Bay of Algeciras on its western side, the airport's truncated runway stretches just 1828 metres and requires pinpoint precision. Click for more photos
February 5, 2009

Nervous fliers, stop reading! Travel + Leisure has come up with a list of the world's scariest runways that can make even the most relaxed travellers grip their armrest.

(Photos: Happy landings? World's scariest airport runways)

1. Paro Airport, Bhutan

Tucked into a tightly cropped valley and surrounded by 4900-metre-high Himalayan peaks, Bhutan's only airport is forbidding to fly into. It requires specially trained pilots to manoeuver and land through a channel of tree-covered hillsides.

2. Princess Juliana International Airport, St. Maarten

The length of the runway is just 2180 metres which is fine for small or medium-size jets, but as the second-busiest airport in the Eastern Caribbean, it regularly welcomes wide-body jetliners like Boeing 747s and Airbus A340s which fly in low over Maho Beach and skim just over the perimeter fence.

3. Reagan National Airport, Washington, DC

Located smack in the center of two overlapping air-exclusion zones, Reagan National requires pilots flying the so-called River Visual into the airport to follow the Potomac while steering clear of sensitive sites such as the Pentagon and CIA headquarters. On taking off, pilots need to climb quickly and execute a steep left bank to avoid flying over the White House.

4. Gibraltar Airport, Gibraltar

Pinched in by the Mediterranean on its eastern flank and the Bay of Algeciras on its western side, the airport's truncated runway stretches just 1828 metres and requires pinpoint precision.

5. Matekane Air Strip, Lesotho

The 399-metre-long runway is perched at the edge of a couloir at 2300 metres. You drop down the face of a 609-metre cliff until you start flying. Says bush pilot Tom Claytor: "The rule in the mountains is that it is better to take off downwind and downhill than into wind and uphill, because in Lesotho, the hills will usually out-climb you."

6. Barra Airport, Barra, Scotland

The airport on the tiny Outer Hebridean Island of Barra is actually a wide shallow bay onto which scheduled planes land with the roughness of landings determined by how the tide went out.

7. Toncontin Airport, Tegucigalpa, Honduras

Having negotiated the rough-hewn mountainous terrain, pilots must execute a dramatic 45-degree, last-minute bank to the left just minutes prior to touching down in a bowl-shaped valley on a runway just 1862 metres in length. The airport, at an altitude of 1000 metres, can accommodate aircraft no larger than Boeing 757's.

8. John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York

Pilots have to avoid interfering with flights into New York's two other close-by airports, LaGuardia and Newark. Set up in 1964 as a noise-abatement measure, this approach forces pilots to have a reported 457-metre ceiling and a eight-kilometre visibility before lining up with runway 13L and the waters of Jamaica Bay.

9. Madeira Airport, Funchal, Madeira

Wedged in by mountains and the Atlantic, Madeira Airport requires a clockwise approach for which pilots are specially trained. Despite a unique elevated extension that was completed back in 2000 and now expands the runway length to what should be a comfortable 2743 metres, the approach to Runway 05 remains hair-raising. Pilots must first point their aircraft at the mountains and, at the last minute, bank right to the runway.

10. Juancho E. Yrausquin Airport, Saba, Netherlands Antilles

Perched on a precipitous gale-battered peninsula on the island's northeastern corner, the airport requires pilots to tackle blustery trade winds, occasional spindrift, and their own uneasy constitutions as they maneuver in for a perfect landing on a runway that's just 396 metres long.

go to this url for photos

http://www.smh.com.au/photogallery/2009/02/05/1233423387468.html

The Smell of Durian

Many Asian foods are alien to westerners. Insects, horseshoe crab eggs, and sum tam or spicy mango salad easily come to mind as foreign to the tongues of farangs, however the most unacceptable Oriental delicacy is the ever-malodorous durian.

The stench of this squishy fruit is so disagreeable to non-aficianados that durian joined hand grenades and land mines on the list of dangerous objects you're not supposed to bring into a hotel room.

Not anymore, for a Thai botanist Dr. Songpol Somsri has created a durian without the pungent odor, which he named Chantaburi No. 1. "No smell, good taste."

Personally I like the smell and taste of durian. At least in Thailand, where it is eaten in a soft state

In Malaysia the natives prefer the durian in a near-putrid ooze. I had some on Penang which had the consistency of a fetid cheese left in the tropical sun ie runny.

Jungle animals can smell this fruit almost a half-mile away and the travel and food writer Richard Sterling said of durian, “ ... its odor is best described as pig-shit, turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock."

This raja of fruits is reputed to possess aphrodisiacal properties.

The Malays and Thais say, "When the durians fall, the sarongs fly up."

Partially since if one of the spiky behemoths dropped on your head, you'd be KOed for a week. Most plantations these days have nets under the tres to prevent damage to the durian.

Not that anyone cares about the unsuspecting pedestrian.

I tried the amorous technique of smearing durian pulp on my body as a cologne. Not a single woman or girl or man or dog came near me, although the mozzies zeroed on my flesh.

Another danger is the fruit's rich combination of carbohydrates, protein, fat and sulfurous compounds, which can be deadly for anyone with high blood pressure.

My wife didn't eat durian for a year after my daughter's birth, because Thais think that durian breath can kill a baby, but this new breed may erase that threat for newborns. Workers say the new durian only smells a little and the taste remains the same.

In 1856 the British naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace wrote a much-quoted description of the flavor of the durian, "A rich custard highly flavoured with almonds gives the best general idea of it, but there are occasional wafts of flavour that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine, and other incongruous dishes. Then there is a rich glutinous smoothness in the pulp which nothing else possesses, but which adds to its delicacy."

Not many westerners would concur with his olfactory assessment, due to the durian's sulfurous stench, although no scientific study could prove why the durian smelled like Gandhi's underwear.

So no smell durian are sort of like roses these days.

Beautiful flower. No bouquet.

A rose is not a rose if a rose doesn't smell to the nose.

Could the durian lose its appeal if it doesn't smell?

Pattaya Time Warp - Photos from 1969

Sam Royalle emailed this url

"http://travel.webshots.com/photo/1056289278041729665ZOgVRH">http://travel.webshots.com/photo/1056289278041729665ZOgVRH

These photos were taken by a GI on holiday. Amazing. No Big-C. No traffic. No plastic bags in the water. No Russians, lager louts, or bikers. There is no trick photography. That's how it was. Not that I knew. I was a draft dodger and I'm still trying to get my anti-war pension from the Pentagon. Maybe I'll have more luck now that Obama is in office.

"Hey Ho We Won't Go."

But I would have gone to Pattaya in a heartbeat.

How could I have known?

We were so much younger then.

Billionairess Says Spending Not Economically Prudent

Everyday another shoe drops on the world economy; housing crash, credit crash, bank failure, stock market malaise, job decimation, and uncertainty heaped upon uncertainty. This downturn is unlike anything I've seen in my life and my memory goes back to the gas crisis of 1973. Last weekend I couldn't take anymore and left New York for the bucolic hills of Dutchess County. My good friend Andrew picked me up at the Poughkepsie train station and we drove to a restaurant on Route 44 to celebrate the birthday of a doctor from Medicins Sans Frontiers.

10 people were at the table.

Three billionaires and four exceedingly well-off scions of famed wealth.

Andrew, his wife, and I were the representative from the other 99.999999% of humanity. We paid for our own drinks, for nothing scares the rich more than someone asking for them for something they don't want to give. if you ever want to lose a rich person for a friend, ask him for $5.

Most of these people never travel to New york, except to the dog show or gala dinners, so they asked me how was business.

"I've had better years and worse years." Last year was bad, but anytime you start off the year by getting arrested in a foreign country is a bad one. "But this is different. No one wants to spend. Not on anything. Luckily I have a big ruby sale in the works."

"Really?" Sandy asked with interest. Her wealth was 9 zeroes long. She loved jewelry, but worshipped horses.

"Yes, I'm selling a 6-carat Burma ruby, untreated, unheated, blood-red." The customer was wavering on the stone, because its color was a little pink. Just a little, but color is everything in fine rubies.

"How much?" Her eyes batted like butterflies on speed.

"$1.4 million." I had put on enough profit to send me back to Thailand for a good two years. Even then it was a good deal for the buyer.

"Ooooh, so much." Sandy frowned with the disapproval based on her descent from the Pilgrims. "I just cancelled my trip to San Francisco, because I decided it wasn't prudent to spend money in this economy."

"Say what?" The words from Captain Sensible's hit song from the 1980s. There was a recession at the time of that recording.

"Yes, I lost 20% of my wealth in the last 4 months. Mind you I'm still as rich as I was when I inherited my money, but I've decided to be prudent. I might even have to cut back on my polo ponies." Tears misted her eyes, thinking about which ponies might get cut from the string in Wellington, Florida. "I have to be responsible."

Andrew's wife kicked me in the leg before I attacked the entire idea of the trickle-down theory of the GOP, where the rich would become really rich and then spend their moeny super-fast in order to make everyone else rich. I glared at her, but took a deep breath and said, "I think that's a good idea that you set a good example of economic prudence for the rest of the rich. Save and then other people will save, maybe even the middle class."

"Yes, I'm doing my part to increase the flow of economic prudence." She leaned over to whisper, "You don't have a line of cocaine, do you?"

"I do." It was a lie, but sometimes a lie is better than the truth. "But it wouldn't be prudent for you to do any. I have to think of my finances too. Thanks for the inspiration."

I left the table and went straight to the bathroom. All the males followed suit. They were disappointed to hear that I wasn't holding drugs. Outraged in fact. I almost thought that they wanted to strip-strip me. I wasn't having any of that and went into the bathroom. I faked snorting several lines and returned to a scornful table, wiping my nose.

"Economic prudence, didn't the Beatles do a song about that?"

The revolution obviously should begin when billionairesses stop spending money.

At least on gigolos.

US Teen Online Porno Only 2 Hours/ Week

In the 1960s the first porno available to young boys was National Geographic. Every summer my older brother and I would pore through the piles of magazines for photos of young Nubian girls dancing at the annual fertility rite. Amongst our friends we felt that the writer and photographer of these articles had the best job in the world. Our introduction to porno magazines enlightened us to the hierarchy of prurient material and we sought out salubrious material like we were writing the new version of THE ORIGINS OF THE SPECIES.

17 year-old boys were reputed to think about sex every 20 minutes or nearly 50 times a day.

I thought this standard was written in stone, however teenage boys of 2009 spent 30 hours a week online, but only 2 hours of that time seeking porno, mostly because they spent too much time hiding their deviant behavior from their parents.

Sex remains more dangerous than guns to the thinking of most parents.

I guess a little knowledge in a young boys hand is a fast track to blindness or even worst.

Sexual liberation?

Steroid Sports Hypocrisy A-rod versus Pot

A-Rod, the Yankees all-star, finally admitted to the Press that he had lied about his steroid use. His apology to the public was tempered by his statement that he was young and management expected him to perform, so his drive to excel superseded his natural integrity.

"When I arrived in Texas in 2001, I felt an enormous amount of pressure. I felt like I had all the weight of the world on top of me and I needed to perform, and perform at a high level every day. Back then, [baseball] was a different culture. It was very loose. I was young. I was stupid. I was naive. And I wanted to prove to everyone that I was worth being one of the greatest players of all time."

Back then, you knucklehead?

Like 2001 was at the time of the Stanley Kubrick film instead of only 7 years ago.

The ballplayer further exonerated himself by saying that he wasn't sure what he took while a Texas Ranger.

Yeah, right.

"I believe you, but my friends think you're lying."

At least that's what my friend, Jamie Parker, would have told the superstar-fucker A-Rod.

So far no one is talking crime here, although another baseball player was charged with lying before the hallowed members of Congress.

That shouldn't be a crime, but an honor.

To lie before the gang of the greatest liars on Earth.

And none of them have been drug-tested either.

The war of drug continues unabated, for the sheriff in the county where Olympic champion Michael Phelps smoked pot out of a bong has arrested 8 people surrounding the incident on charges of possession and distribution. The offending bong, which supposedly was being auctioned on Ebay for $100,000, has also been seized as evidence. The swimmer has yet to be charged, but damn someone's going to get punished for bonging.

You wouldn't want your kids to turn out like Cheech and Chong who are appearing at Radio City Music Hall to celebrate the Weed.

Yes, the Land of the Free.

After all this

.

Yes Pecan Ice Cream

Weirdly more ice cream is sold during the winter months per capita than throughout the summer. No one has been able to explain this phenomena, however Alison from Palm Beach sent this list of new and old ice cream favors from the ex-prez and the new C-in-C

Personally I'm waiting for GW Bush to be arrest on charges of treason.

I won't hold my breath, but I will continue to dream.

--------------------------------------------------------------
Ben & Jerry created "Yes Pecan!" ice cream flavor for Obama.

For George W. they asked for suggestions from the public.

Here are some of their favorite responses:
- Grape Depression
- The Housing Crunch
- Abu Grape
- Cluster Fudge
- Nut'n Accomplished
- Good Riddance You Lousy Motherfucker... Swirl
- Iraqi Road
- Chock 'n Awe
- WireTapioca
- Impeach Cobbler
- Guantanmallow
- imPeachmint
- Heck of a Job, Brownie!
- Neocon Politan
- RockyRoad to Fascism
- The Reese's-cession
- Cookie D'oh!
- Nougalar Proliferation
- Death by Chocolate... and Torture
- Freedom Vanilla Ice Cream
- Chocolate Chip On My Shoulder
- Credit Crunch
- Mission Pecanplished
- Country Pumpkin
- Chunky Monkey in Chief
- WMDelicious
- Chocolate Chimp
- Bloody Sundae
- Caramel Preemptive Stripe
- I broke the law and am responsible for the deaths of thousands...with nuts

Nihilism of Now

I'm a firm believer that the best course of action is inaction on most occasion and it seems that this belief is sanction by BC, the legendary newspaper comic. The tenet is professed by the master militarist Von Clausewitz in his treatise ON WAR.

"If we cast a glance at military history in general, we find so much the opposite of an incessant advance towards the aim, that STANDING STILL and DOING NOTHING is quite plainly the NORMAL CONDITION of an Army in the midst of War, ACTING, the EXCEPTION."

This philosophy echoes the ancient teachings of Sun Tzu from THE ART OF WAR.

"Do not act when there is nothing to gain."

Or in my words 'do nothing if the pay-off is nothing'.

Advice to be followed without exception in these times of crisis.

Let's see what happens and then make a move or not.

Barbie BBQ

It's the dead of winter in New York. The backyard is covered in snow. The grill is under wraps, but I still think of a good barbecue every once in a while.

And as always there's nothing wrong with playing with your sister's Barbie as long as you don't violate them.

Bad Boy Driving

During the early 1970s my college comrades and I drank at the Hi-hat Lounge in Brighton. The girls were young, the drinks were cheap, and we could sell drugs at the bar. Qualludes and mescaline. Neither of them were the best available in Boston, but we were always in supply, so the bands playing on Commonwealth Avenue came to see us before and after gigs. I even sold LSD to AeroSmith and they invited us to their show. They weren't big yet, but the band attracted co-eds from every university within 25 miles. My friends and I crammed into my VW Bug.

"Can you drive?" Peter Gore asked from the passenger seat. We had hitchhiked across America in 1971. a carload of drunks begged me to drive their Riviera from Reno to San Francisco. Peter had to sit in the back. We drank warm whiskey through the Sierras. He didn't trust me behind the wheel.

"Of course I can drive." I had only dropped a 'lude and guzzled several whiskey cokes. I had been driving since I was 16 and only had 7 accidents. Most of them weren't my fault. At least the way I told it. Something about his question bothered me and I said I was going to run every red light to Kenmore Square.

"Don't do that." Peter buckled up his seat belt. No one in 1971 wore one. We had all seen too many films where the passengers burn in their cars, thanks to a defective seat belt. The other passengers were more enthusiastic, then again they were in the suicide seat.

I blew the light at the first BU dorms and then another by the Boston Club. The traffic was light, however we were approaching the Charles River Bridge. This was a more intersection. The cars were coming from the right and left.

"Don't." everyone cried out with good reason and I braked too late to avoid tapping into the back of a Mustang.

"Asshole." Peter was pissed.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, then I'm sorry." I realized too late what an asshole I was and got out of the car to examine the damage to both vehicles. My fender was bent. Maybe $200, but the Mustang bore a major dent. Maybe $1000, which was a lot of money in 1971. The driver was puking out the open door. He wiped his mouth and said, "Sorry, for running that light. Are you okay?"

The drunken fool thought the crash was his fault. He even offered money to pay for the damages. Peter pushed me back into my car and we laughed about the story later, Peter calling me, "Boston's worst driver."

Maybe I was that evening, but Palm County police had a world-class violator in their sights the other night. The driver refused to stop for the officers in pursuit. He ran red lights, crashed into another car, a fence, fled the scene, and when they finally stopped him, the cops cited the offender with 50 tickets. One was not wearing a seat belt.

All sounds too familiar.

I wonder if Peter Gore wherever he is thought the same thing.

"Asshole."

That's me and I have company too.

GOP Old Coogeristis

The USA lost over 600,000 jobs in January. Houses dropped 20% of their value if not more and the stock market experienced a China Meltdown from 14,000 plus to 8300, yet the GOP candidate of 2008 criticized the winner of that contest on the Senate floor by saying that the stimulus package was merely another spending bill.

The President shook his head and smiled in response.

“What do you think a stimulus is? That’s the whole point. No, seriously, that’s the point."

John McCain, the feisty maverick, was quick to retort.

“The whole point, Mr. President, is to enact tax cuts and spending measures that truly stimulate the economy. There are billions and tens of billions of dollars in this bill which will have no effect within three, four, five or more years, or ever. Or ever." John McCain wasn't done yet either. "$50 million in funding for the National Endowment for the Arts — all of us are for the arts. Tell me how that creates any significant number of jobs? After-school snack program is probably a good idea. Do we really want to spend $726 million on it?”

Better to invade Iraq and kill thousands of innocent people.

Dumb fuck.

Obviously Senator McCain believes that there is a safety switch in the White House. This Jump-Start Device will spark an economic 'surge' by sucking more money into the coffers of the rich in order to get the trickle-down machine to work again. And this time the banks and rich will get it right, so everyone in America will once more think they are rich. This belief shows how far the GOP have drifted from the mainstream of this country if not the world and any senator voting against the stimulus package can assuredly contemplate in earnest a long vacation after the next election, for the American public is mad at the stalemate in Congress.

The GOP and their right wing flaks were always quick to point out that the popularity of the Congress was lower than that of GW F Bush without realizing that the hardened arteries of politics was their fault.

Fuck the Grand Old Party.

And I'd like to hear those suckasses from the democratic Party stand up for something more than stretching their Kobe Steak bloated flesh. They've been in the pocket of the rich too long too. The President needs to lead and it almost sounds like he is doing so when he says, “Here’s the point I’m making. This package is not going to be absolutely perfect, and you can nit and you can pick. That’s the game we all play here. What I’m saying is we can’t afford to play that game. We’ve got to pull together.”

And while we're at it, why don't we legalize marijuana.

The DEA is still arresting people like it was 2007.

Tuk-Tuks USA-Bound

Some entrepreneur has decided to vamp out the Bangkok Tuk Tuks for USA consumption.

Can't wait for them to compete with Hummers on the streets of New York.

Pai laeo laeo.

Groovy Bangkok 1969

It must have been tres groovy.

Check out this URL from www.2bangkok.com

http://2bangkok.com/2bangkok/1969/1969BangkokTraveller.shtml

Tourism in Iraq

No one in Iraq has seen a tourist since the 2003 invasion by the US-led Coalition of the Willing, but Fallujah police were surprised by the solo visit of an Italian traveler seeking the sights of the war-torn country. No one was sure what he really wanted to see, yet everyone agreed that the 31 year-old couldn't stay the night.

"There are no hotels."

US officials had no idea how the Italian entered the country.

But then who's surprised by that.

Iraqi merchants are getting ready for the surge of tourism now.

Where there is one there will be many.

Pizza can't be far behind.

Macha Bucha Day

Most westerners have no idea why the Thais have so many holidays and grouse continually how these festivities interfere with their worship of beer and go-go girls, however no Thais ever ask why the birth of Christ is only 4 months after the Immaculate Conception, so get ready for Macha Bucha Day. This Buddhist holy day celebrates the spontaneous gathering of 1250 of Lord Buddha's disciples to hear his words of peace and nothingness. The thai go to the wats in droves to promenade three times around the structure with lit candles and actually this holy day is one of Thailand's most beautiful.

So all you wicked farangs, stock beer for home consumption, but try to do something Thai for a change instead of being a fat lump of lard.

It's never too late to lose that beer belly.

Well, maybe for some us it is.

Poor Old Oak Room

"I spent some of my most romantic afternoons in the Oak Bar." Richie Boy tells everyone he meets at the fabled bar in the Plaza Hotel. "Nothing more romantic than watching the light of the day change on the face of the girl you love, even if it's only for today."

He mentions no name to avoid any confusion. Most people think he's talking about his life. Luis Bunuel the Spanish surrealist filmmaker also had kind words for the Oak Bar. He even had a favorite table. The best time around the ebb of the day. "A quiet time when only real drinkers come to the bar."

The bar was an institution as was the Oak Room. Both were places New Yorkers came to be seen and be seen being seen. The prestige of the restaurant took a big hit yesterday with a savage review from the NY Times food critic.

One Star.

The chef had said, "If I get two stars, then I'm out of here."

One star and he's gone, but the problem is not the chef. I know his cooking. I've sat with him and he's explained the simplicity of his favorite meals. None of these seem to please the owners of the Oak Room. They wanted to make money and there's no sin in that or at least there was none until 2008.

I commiserated with the chef last night, but understood the food critic's objections to the ownership of the Oak Room. They are not New Yorkers and have no idea what it means to be a New Yorker. The faster they're gone from this city, the better or else the Oak Bar will go the way of the Palm Court.

Save the Oak Bar.

Maggie May - Pattaya

My apostasy to the Christian faith is well-known. My adherence to the Beerastian religion answers many mysteries of life in a mug of beer. While home-sudsing is acceptable for these spiritual explorations, I can plumb the depths of my emptiness best at temples of public libation and one of my preferred pilgrimage sites is Maggie May’s on Soi Chaiyapoon.

“Drink Guinness it’s good for you.”

The perfect greeting for a man of my devotion.

The Guinness at 150 baht is the cheapest and best in Pattaya and Tony the patron prides himself in keeping the pipes clean. Last year when his supplier provided a batch of spunky Guinness, Tony returned the kegs rather than sell the suspect beer to the punters. No philistine that man.

Asahi is only 85 Baht at happy hour. The AC is kicking in like a corpse just out of the freezer is breathing down your neck. The crowd noshes on curry pasties and stale peanuts. The TVs can cover all betting interests on sports. Conversations revolve around the arcane aspects of sports and rehashing adventures with your idiot friends. The only girls are the affable barmaids and the occasional girlfriend. Some guys like to have a witness to their drinking. The CD player accepts all form of music and no one really cares if the girls are the DJs.

Hey, living this long in Pattaya we have all come to love boy bands.

Maggie May’s Soi Chayaphun off Soi Buakhao

I haven’t a clue what time it opens or closes, but Happy Hour is 5-6pm

Another bonus is the wooden jockey at the entrance wears a Gary Glitter mask and even better MAGGIE MAY is a great Rod Stewart song.

New Seven Wonders of the World

Merrill read my entry http://www.mangozeen.com/2007/07/03/beauty/seven-wonders-of-the-world-07-07-07.htm about the Seven Wonder of the World and responded with her own list.

"Hey Peter, I was reading your blog posting about your personal 7 Wonders of the World and got inspired. Here are my 7 Wonders:

l'Institut du Monde Arabe (Paris)
Hundertwasser House (Vienna)
The North Pole
Movies
The Cafe NY in Budapest
Lincoln Center Music Library
Google"

No one voted for Sophie's Bar in Phnom Penh and the North Pole wanders daily so that if you're flying over the top of the world, don't expect to see a large X marking the northern most point on this planet.

Truthfully the State of Maine is as far north as I need to go, although my grandmother knew Admiral Peary of Polar fame. My older brother has a punch bowl from him. With that in mind I'm always interested in books about polar exploration such as GIVE ME BACK MY FATHER'S BODY.

Free Palestine NOW

I was getting gold chains on 47th Street yesterday. Business was slow at the findings. The owner asked, "Where are you from?"

"Boston." No one in the Diamond District had ever asked my origins. I am a goy. Gentiles don't really count except on the Shabbath, when the Hassidim need us to turn on the lights. "I'm the Shabbath Goy."

"Doesn't matter to me. I'm not Jewish. I'm an Armenian born in Israel." Armenians are scattered through the jewelry business. Not many, but for than the other goyim. "I left in 1957. I've spent my whole life on this street."

"And have you ever seen times like this?" I was 5 years-old when he arrived in the USA.

"Never."

"Not even in Palestine."

"That's the first time I've ever heard anyone on this street call it that." He smiled with a lost sadness. "Palestine. It wasn't like they said. It was beautiful. More natural. Like Utah. And the fruit. It wasn't fake like now. But what can you do?"

"Just remember I guess."

"Well, have a good day."

I thanked him for his best wishes and headed back to the Plaza Hotel. I was going to open late. It happened every day.

Thaksin Come Back

#1 Thai Rak Thai guy, ex-prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra phoned the Pheu Thai Party HQ in Nakhon Ratchasima collect to inform the high executives and MPs that he was far from finishing his fight to regain power, even if physically he were far from Thailand.

"I'll come back when the people tell me."

Obviously he is not listening to a request from the Thai courts to serve a 3 year sentence for corruption and having spent 30 minutes in a Pattaya cell, I can concur with his decision to remain in exile.

I was lucky enough to have a fair court.

I paid a 1000 baht fine and was released to the loving arms of my wives and children.

Guess the police thought that was enough of a punishment, but cops aren't expert in love like me.

Stonehenge in Bangkok

Stonehenge in Bangkok

New Englanders are relatively starved of archaeological ruins other than frost-heaved stone walls from vanished farms snaking through the woods or the smooth walls of the Quincy Quarries. Not one of the Seven Wonders of the World was on our side of the Atlantic. None from Africa or the Far East graced list either thanks to the Eurocentricity of the 19th Century’s tomb raiders.

My 7 wonders of the world are the Potala in Lhasa, the funereal Ghats of Varanasi, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Sanctuary of Truth in Pattaya, the Chartes Cathedral, the moon-lit combs atop Tikal’s pyramids in Guatemala, and Sophie’s Bar in Phnom Penh.

Antiquity is not a requisite nor is size.

I suppose I could have substituted Stonehenge, since recently archaeologists have uncovered a vast network of Neolithic villages on Salisbury Plain in England suggesting the earthworks at Stonehenge were part of a much larger religious complex.

British authorities have ropes off the stone circle from the public.

Previously you could drive up to them in the middle of the night and have a drunken party with a fire. Too many beer louts in the UK for that now. Football fans would probably attempt a form of cow tipping with the 4000 year-old monoliths.

Bangkok had its own Stonehenge in the Hopewell Project.

Billions of baht spent for a commuter rail system.

Hundreds of years from now there will discovered by future inhabitants of the world who will wonder what was the Hopewell Project’s purpose. Same as anyone driving past them today.

A road to nowhere or Thailand’s attempt to rival Stonehenge.

I’ve only been to Stonehenge once.

With my friend AJ on a Neolithic tour of the Salisbury Plain.

Avesbury Circle, Stonehenge, and then the Silbury Mound.

Archaeologists have argued over whether the Druids, ETs, the devil, Merlin, or drunks with time on their hands built the massive monuments. As a descendant of Celtic blood I prefer the Druid theory.

On my visit I intended to strip naked, however the Avesbury Circle and Stonehenge were swarmed by tourists. Not so the Silbury Hill.

The ancient mound rises over the treeless plain. No one else was at the site. AJ and I climbed 130 feet to the top. AJ explained the mound had been built by thousands of workers over scores of years in different periods dating back over 4000 years.

Older than Stonehenge.

Older than me even on mornings after I’ve drunk a lot.

The day was sunny. AJ and I stripped naked.

We vowed not to believe in gods.

Neither of us glanced at the other’s body.

Better that way, because straight men should be naked in the same room together. Gay men. No problem. Naked all they want.

Straight men?

Only in a locket room and no peeking allowed, which is why Michelangelo’s DAVID is also a Wonder of the World. Firstly no one talks about the nudity or that the penis is so small. About as small as mine after a night of blow.

Ask GW Bush he knows.

But there’s no chance I’ll get naked at the Hopewell ruins.

Have to wait another 4000 years until they deserve such an expose. Thankfully by that time I will be dust in the wind and any thoughts about naked men atop the Silbury Hill are forgotten too.

sic transit gloria.

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Mia Noi or Mia Yai

Valentine Day is less than two weeks away. I'm a half world distant from my two wives and two kids in Thailand. I can only say I love you or 'pom rak khun' over the telephone or via Western Union. My wives' preference is my sending money over the internet. Money always says 'rak yai'.

Several friends in New York have asked, "Which wife do you love most?"

Mia noi or Mia yai?

I'd have to go with #2, because you'd never have a #2 if you loved #1 so much.

A geek or a part-time mistress sure.

I don't know a single faithful westerner in Thailand.

Maybe me, because I faithful to both my wives.

And that's no small thing in Thailand where temptation lurks in the air like peerfume from a a fragrant tree. It's everywhere.

Happy Valentine's Day ala Thai

Valentine's Day has been globalized around the world, although few people know the exact origins of why we send hearts to loved ones. The tradition is mainly attributed to a roman priest Valentine who preform marriages against the wishes of the Roman Emperor. His punishment was execution but not before supposedly addressing a farewell note to his beloved 'From your Valentine'.

Back then priests were not celibate. The Holy Catholic Church makes no mention of this in their treatment of Valentine's Day. Not that their priests are celibate either. Still the holiday is celebrated around the world and in Thailand it has become the day when young people vow to have sex with their lovers. Thai authorities disapprove of this adaptation of the valentine rites. Officials are posting police near honeymoon hotels to prevent teens from acting on their desires. Contradicting this moral conservatism the Culture Minister has ordered his officers to distribute 10,000 condoms to teens in preparation for their civil disobedience. In truth the boys are praying to be lucky and I know that when I was a teenager girls were thinking in the opposite direction. Most teens will go to eat with their friends and the boys dream about getting the green light as they pay for the meal.

Only a few will be so lucky and that's only because they were lucky before.

So Happy Valentine Day youth of the world.

I'm celebrating mine with my favorite lover.

A bottle of wine.

Pieter Schoolwerth’s Opening on Sunday, February 1st, Miguel Abreu Gallery

Anti-Terror Juice MonekY Cops - NYPD

The Thai police raid clubs to piss-test customers for drugs. If you failed the test ie your pee turns purple, you are arrested for drug use. The USA is a little more civilized, however many companies demand to pass a drug test before you are hired for any position and that means mail room or janitor too, but not CEO nor for over-the-counter prescription drugs. Being on the top means you can do what you want and the same goes for the police.

You never hear about them getting drug tested after an 'accentual' shooting, but why would they, the police aren't there to preserve order, but sow disorder. Not all of them, because I've known some good cops in my day. The last time I was arrested the Thai police couldn't have been more polite and my good friends in the 9th Precinct always treated me right mostly since they are human like the rest of us.

Not the Anti-Terror squad of the NYPD.

These steroid juice monkeys appear in front of 'possible terrorist targets' such as the Plaza Hotel and FAO Schwartz in full SWAT regalia carrying automatic rifles like they were ready to wipe out the street faster than Blackwater operatives in Iraq.

They dying for it.

A chance to show their mettle.

Personally I consider them an affront to liberty along with the search of bags in the subways, then again Americans don't care about the loss of freedom as long as they can eat chicken wings on Superbowl Sunday while drinking Buds.

Now that's a horror.

Not the chicken wings.

The BUD.

Bleeech.

Sexy Thai

I've been away from the orient too long.

Pattaya Bar Girl Rules

1. Choose your farang depending to your needs. If you have money in your pocket, you can be picky, although that's not very likely since you would be home sleeping, eating, or watching TV if your wallet was crammed with 100 baht notes. You wouldn't be working if you did. At the end of the week, specifically Friday and Saturday, many locally employed walking ATM machines will come to your bar, choose carefully! Some have money, but others do not! If he is wearing a suit and tie, check that the tie is not a Pratunam special and check that he isn't wearing trainers. If he is, forget him because he is most likely an English teacher, and they will only give you peanuts, if they give you anything at all

2. No matter how fat and ugly he is, no matter how bad he may smell, no matter how drunk he is, make sure you always tell him he is handsome. Sit close to him and run your hands over his body, arousing him. As soon as he has paid the bar fine, you can stand clear of him. Even if he knows that you despise him, he'll still pay you. The hard part is getting him to pay the bar, and as soon as he has done that, the rest is easy.

3. Start collecting email addresses from all of your customers, once you have a good collection of addresses, a visit to your local Internet cafe is in order. Send everyone an email. Simply change the name on each email and send it off to all the guys. If you can remember something specific about them, mention that in the email too. These walking ATMs all have a soft heart, so you need to tell them a story to get them to send you some of their riches. Start with a sick buffalo and if he doesn't reply, next tell him that your mother is ill. As a last resort, if he still doesn't send any money, tell him you are pregnant and the baby is his!

4. Practice crying on cue. It is essential that you can produce tears immediately. This will have the effect of helping the walking ATM machine to see things your way!

5. When you get a customer for an extended period of time, make sure he takes you shopping, with Rarn Tong (gold shop) being the best place to visit. Make sure he buys you gold and if he doesn't, see rule 4! As soon as he has left Thailand, take the gold back to the shop and sell it straight back to them, thus increasing your pay out.

6. When locally based farangs are inside the bars, do not speak in Thai with your friends in the bar but rather use Lao, Khmer or any other dialects that you may know.

It's bad enough that some of them can speak and even read Thai, but Lao and Khmer should be kept as sacrosanct. Under no circumstances should the farang be taught our regional dialects.

7. Always see him off at the airport. Thai currency cannot be used in his country, so it is highly likely that he will give you all of his leftover Baht as he leaves and says goodbye.

While accompanying him to the airport, prevent him buying going-away gifts for his family and friends in his homeland, this will leave more money for you.

8. See Asian customers. They understand that we like to gamble, and they understand that we have lots of unemployed brothers and sisters who need to eat. Therefore, they pay a lot better than the farangs.

9. Remember, when you go with a farang, you must always ask for taxi money and give him the excuse that taxi drivers cannot give change on big notes. Don't let him see the small change in your wallet. If taxi money isn't forthcoming, see rule 4.

10. If you are no longer making money in Bangkok, move down to Phuket where you will be able to start making money again. Give Phuket a few years, then move on to Pattaya. Even if you are approaching 50, it is no problem as the walking ATM machines in Pattaya seem to be so blind, they will not notice.

New Words for the Modern World

This year Webster Dictionary has allowed a new series of modern slang to be entered into the lexicon of the English language. Most people I know ie English speakers are light years ahead of the educational tome in their vernacular depravity, but here are some words which might make it into the revision for 2007.

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

5. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject

financially impotent for an indefinite period.

6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn’t get it.

8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious

bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve

accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit

you’re eating.

And the pick of the literature:

18. Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

Arty SuperBowl Sunday

Europeans don't get American Football.

"Why call it football when you can't kick the ball?"

It's a good question but who cares what Europeans about sports and the feeling is obvious mutual because my good friend Miguel Abreau scheduled the opening of Pieter Schoolwerth for this Sunday.

Art versus Superbowl.

We know who wins this contest, despite my being friend with both the gallery owner and the artist.

Chicken wings and beer.

But for those effete art snobs wishing to expand their minds go to Miguel Abreau Gallery this evening.

Peter is the tall American with the long hair.

I think.

36 Orchard Street (between Canal & Hester), New York, NY 10002
Telephone 212.995.1774 • Fax 646.688.2302 • post@miguelabreugallery.com

Gallery hours: Wednesday – Sunday, 11:00 AM to 6:30 PM
Subway: F to East Broadway; B, D to Grand Street; J, M, Z to Delancey / Essex Street

Superbowl Sunday 2009

The 2008 NFL season ended with the Patriots at 11-5. That record wasn't good enough to send them into the playoffs. Instead the Pittsburgh Steelers were the best in the AFC and they beat their opponents throughout the post-season, thus earning a spot in the SuperBowl this Sunday against the Arizona Cardinals ex of St. Louis.

The point spread is 6 or 7.

I don't bet sports.

I don't gamble.

But I'm picking the Steelers because my roommate is a Pittsburgh fan. Walter will be watching the game at the reservoir Bar on University Place in New York. His mouth will be smeared with chicken wing grease. Beers (Stellas) are $6. I'll be watching the game with him wearing my Boston Bruins jersey.

Fuck Pittsburgh.

If the Patriots had been in the playoffs, Walter would have been crying last weekend.

Word from the north.

Bang a Bong

Michael Phelps, an eight-time gold medalist for the USA, has had photos of his huffing a bong pipe published in the daily scandal sheets. Needless to say the accompanying criticism has been harsh ranging from the WHAT A DOPE banner in England's prestigious NEWS OF THE WORLD to accusations of tossing his career down the tubes for a hit of weed. Even worse were the commentaries from witnesses to his partying such as;

“He didn’t know many people so you’d think he’d be a little shy. But he was loud, obnoxious and slamming beers from the get-go.

“Every girl wanted a piece of him and every guy wanted to be his best buddy. He couldn’t get enough of all the attention.”

“You could tell Michael had smoked before. He grabbed the bong and a lighter and knew exactly what to do.

“He looked just as natural with a bong in his hands as he does swimming in the pool. He was the gold medal winner of bong hits. Michael ended up getting a little paranoid, though, because before too long he looked like he was nervous and ran out of the place.”

Mr. Phelps probably realized that this episode would earn him a rough time from the media along with his coaches and family.

"What were you thinking?"

Mr. Phelps was thinking the same thing most potheads think. "Legalize the weed. fuck the law. Let's party."

The rest of the world simply isn't that cool.

The USA government sent the comedian Tommy Chong to prison for a bong.

Fuck the DEA.

Right on, Aquaman.