Famous Last Words of a...

...54-year-old Comedian who has just had his eyes jabbed out by a red hot poker while making a joke about Jerry Orbach's Eye Bank advertisement: Isn't it eye-ronic?!

...37-year-old Concert Pianist with a treble clef fetish: Treble Clef, light of my life, fire of my loins. Tre. Ble. Clef. Plain Tre on a clarinet. Treble in a trumpet's morning routine. Clef to her friends. But always Treble Clef on my sheet music.

...10-month-old Praying Mantis after having sex: A nut is a nut is a nut.

Separated at Birth: Pusha T and Slim Charles

Recent Email from My Mom

Hello,

I'm writing this with tears in my eyes,i came down here to London,England for a short vacation and i got mugged at gun point last night at the park of the hotel where i lodged all cash,credit cards and cell were stolen off me.

I am even owing the hotel here,the hotel manager won't let me leave until i settle the hotel bills now am freaked out. So i have limited access to emails for now, please i need you to lend me some money so i can make arrangements and return back I am full of panic now,the police only asked me to write a statement about the incident and directed me to the embassy,i have spoken to the embassy here but they are not responding to the matter effectively, I will return the money back to you as soon as i get home, I am so confused right now.i wasn't injured because I complied immediately.

I await your quick response.

Regards,

Mom

Time Travel is Hard

INT. CAESAR'S PALACE SPORTSBOOK, LAS VEGAS, OCTOBER 27, 1985

Tim (internal): Of all the years I could have ended up in, it just had to be 1985. It couldn't have been '86? Everyone knows the Mets won that year, Buckner and all that bullshit. Cardinals vs. Royals. Ugh. Cardinals have won the World Series a lot of times, they must have won this time too, right? Or maybe I should go all counterintuitive, pick the underdog. I wish my iPhone worked here. Just trust your ESPN Classic-trained mind Tim. Have they ever shown a Royals game on that channel? Did you know ANY Royals fans growing up? If they had won a World Series, there definitely would have been some bandwagon kids in George Brett jerseys. Yep, gotta be the Cardinals.

Tim (to teller): I'd like $20,000 on the Cardinals to win Game 7 tonight.

INT. TIM'S PARENTS' APARTMENT, NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 8, 2009

Tim (to his parents): You are not gonna BELIEVE what happened to my trust fund!

Dreams from my iPhone

A few months ago, I decided to start keeping a dream journal. Basically, any time I wake up from a dream that I can remember, I furiously type up all the details as quickly as possible into a note on my iPhone. I'd like to share some of these dreams with you. And remember, these are actual notes I took about actual dreams:

• Get annoyed with my dad for the stop-start of the air conditioning in my childhood apartment while actually experiencing the stop-start of an overnight train in Morocco (8/26/09)
• Watch Venus Williams as the guest chair umpire for a final tennis match played in Midtown Manhattan. She calls Justine Henin, "That Jewish girl" (8/27/09)
  
• The night doorman from my office building starts sharing with me on Google Reader (9/13/09)
• I'm trapped in the bathtub of my childhood apartment with the waters rising. My mom tries to save me, but can't. Eventually, futuristic machines controlled by Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan save me (9/19/09)*
  
• I'm in a later season Gossip Girl-world where Blair does no work and Dan seemingly has sexual tension with a dean/teacher character played by James Franco (10/3/09)
  
• Pseudo-sexual meat market in Mexico with anthropomorphic live animals (10/17/09)
• I work hard to convince a guy at J. Crew that I can exchange a size medium tweed-style jacket I had gotten as a gift for a size small, but I'm not able to because I hadn't bought the jacket myself (11/15/09)

*I had a very similar dream that involved flooding and Jaws coming to get me in my apartment when I was around 8.

Ladies, diversify your portfolios!

If I'm stalking you across Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, Videobox, etc... I don't want to see the same 200 x 200 profile photo everywhere. You've gotta have at least 2 or 3 different shots. Even if they were actually taken at the same time, give me a different angle or something. Sheesh.

The Elm City Connectors

(Note: MoMilli and I have been talking over a potential New Haven mixtape tentatively titled "The Elm City Connectors")

[Current status - Bergman Senior]
New Haven mixtape
Be takin' quick shape
Tracks so aggressive,
Bitches gonna scream "rape!"
But wait, we all homosape,
Only evolution be revolution
Way we run the game
Ain't no mo' prostitution

Potential Song 1:

[Potential Verse 1 - MoMilli]
Biggie likes gats & stuff
Mo Milli like Gatz & scruff
Mo like mo' boys to be well-bred and read and stuff
Free curling Jewfros while they're free with free-associative thoughts on the Euthryphro
Shitty riff, though
I like mines off the cuff with a quip
When he whip out his ego trip
We not rippin' corners, we rippin' the whole block with a community redev to a new downtown mall strip
Redevelop B-way to make way for a AmAppy
The fuck you thinkin', takin' out scrappy b-men (Jason!) to scrap together multinationals (Urban!)
Strappy sandals are so oh-sev
We so-so def, social debs, I mean devs
Social deviants, we social climbin' until the cap-and-trade bubble burst
(etc.)

[Potential Verse 2 - MoMilli]
So we like up at the Courtyard
Post-game crash hard
Fresh on withdrawal with my cash card
Suddenly freaked is me
Some dude in 523 is getting Judasy on his Game roomies
Is this Marriott gonna get feisty? Nicely...
Nice ice bucket in the room next door, loud sounds
Girl cracks door open, looks around
Shuts it again, then they come out of there with a group of three
"You okay-yo with the yayo?"
They like yeah, yo
Me say "nay-yo"
Naysayers on the elevator ruminators
"Should we turn in them in soon?" they ask amongst themselves
"Oh, shit, " my girl K.V. and me mumble, it's 7:12
We gonna be late for New Moon
Should've waited for the 10:20 showing instead of something else so soon

Celebrity in the Crowd

At last night's Knicks game, we saw this:

21st Century Sport

A brief history of polar fleece

1979: One of the first forms of polar fleece is created by Malden Mills.

1997: I think it's cool to wear polar fleece everywhere. Especially if it's from Lands End.

2002: Track jackets take over. Polar fleece is worn by engineering students and overly enthusiastic residential college supporters.

2009: The mere mention of polar fleece brings to mind cheap corporate giveaways, magazine subscription enticements, and late-30s soccer moms hiding their good and bad curves. I fall in love all over again.

21st Century Therapy

This One's For Manifest Density

Took just 1 game to see that we could compete
Some irritable bowlers nearly got beat
But then we're 2 and 2, mediocrity loomed
Our pinfall low was the season doomed?
Not by a long shot
Cause this long shot
Got hot, struck a lot
And connected the dots
With the pieces in place, our average kept climbing
Hit our peak late season, talk about timing
Now the playoffs are beckoning
Other teams face a reckoning
This is judgment day on the lanes
Let's terminate them slowly, so they don't feel the pain

21st Century Sex Diary of the Narrator of Notes From Underground

Day One:
6:09 a.m. Think about how sick I am.
6:10 a.m. Think about how wicked I am.
6:11 a.m. Think about calling CoCo.
9:00 a.m. Start work for the day with my miserable co-workers. I bet they're all having office romances. Meanwhile, my dick is bigger than all of their dicks combined, but they walk around the office like they're fucking John Holmes.
12:15 p.m. Eat lunch alone at my desk. Occasionally sneak a peek at the knees of the secretaries who sit near me. The knee is the most sexual part of the leg.
5:00 p.m. Watch Jim (with his pockmarked face) and Martin (with his hideous teeth) walk out to happy hour with Katherine, who has the best knees in the office. Consider masturbating at work.
11:30 p.m. Consider masturbating at home.

Day Two
5:46 a.m. Think about calling CoCo. Wonder if she'll stop by my apartment instead.
12:30 p.m. Go to Brooks Brothers and buy the second-cheapest suit.
6:37 p.m. Put on my new suit and pick up the phone to call CoCo. Dial 3 digits. Hang up.

Day Three
5:21 a.m. Wake up from dream about CoCo. Realize that I don't have her phone number. Too many girls named CoCo on Facebook. Spend 90 minutes looking at 200x200 profile photos.
11:57 a.m. Consider "accidentally" bumping into Katherine in the office. Figure out the perfect plan.
2:59 p.m. Katherine is walking past my desk. Time to act. I look away and pretend to type in an Excel formula.
5:18 p.m. Walk by CoCo's place. Stand outside for 15 minutes pretending to do something useful on my phone. Walk around the block while thinking about going inside. Walk home.
11:12 p.m. Read reviews of Fleshlight for an hour. Decide that it's probably not worth it.

Day Four
4:49 a.m. Think about friending every CoCo in New York on Facebook. Realize that Korean handjob masseuses probably aren't on Facebook.
4:50 a.m. Consider masturbating. Start typing in videob...delete that and go to Google Image search. Switch from strict to moderate filtering. Search for Sasha Grey. Get lots of photos from The Girlfriend Experience movie premiere.
4:54 a.m. Go back to sleep.
1:12 p.m. See old college classmate at local deli. Look down and try to walk away. Hear him say my name. Keep walking. Feel him put his hand on my shoulder. Agree to meet him and 3 other cretins for drinks the next day at 6.
10:25 p.m. Think about inviting CoCo out with my college classmates. Hang out in front of her massage parlor.

Day Five
4:21 a.m. Get home.
8:16 a.m. Practice in the bathroom mirror asking Katherine what she's doing this weekend.
2:44 p.m. Accidentally reply-all to company-wide email.
2:51 p.m. Overhear Katherine asking Martin, "Who's the guy that just sent that weird email? Does he work here?"
4:57 p.m. Watch Katherine walk right by me and leave for the weekend.
6:00 p.m. Arrive for drinks. Wait at the bar alone and make furtive eye contact with at least 3 women. Order no drinks.
7:00 p.m. Pretend to care about what my classmates have done since college. Actually care even more than I am pretending. Every one of them is both more successful and less intelligent than I am.
11:23 p.m. Suggest to everyone that we get massages.

Day Six
12:37 p.m. Wake up on CoCo's massage table. Tell her that she's a lousy masseuse who should have stayed in Korea and that New York will bring nothing but suffering to her and her family. Ask for her email address.
4:00 p.m. Call my only acquaintance, who is also my boss, and ask him to lend me money. Tell him it's to help me set up a home office. It's really to buy CoCo flowers and champagne.

Day Seven
3:35 a.m. Create a flirty someecard for CoCo. Send her a generic ecard from a mainstream site.
2:25 p.m. Visit massage parlor rating site and type up a bad review for CoCo. Delete it.
10:04 p.m. Regret not getting at least a handjob from CoCo.

Totals: Two aborted handjob massages; three aborted attempts at masturbation; five days of staring at knees; zero ejaculations

Going Down

The 2009 Inaugural Address of @GeorgeWallace

If George Wallace were still around during the Twitter age, I think that he might give a speech something like this:

People of Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter, distinguished guests, Google Reader users:

Before I begin my talk with you, I want to ask you for a few minutes patience while I say something that is on my heart: I want to thank those intrepid folks on the internet who first gave an anxious country boy his opportunity to discuss the negroes he despised in a more public way. I shall always owe a lot to those who gave me that first opportunity to tweet.

I will never forget the warm support and close loyalty from my followers, 304 of whom made #PappysMoonshine a trending topic for a full 4 hours last Christmas and the 1 little old lady who accidentally wrote @PappysMoonshine, by mistake, because she doesn't understand Twitter. Bless her heart.

I hope you'll forgive me these few moments of remembering...but I wanted them...and you...to know, that I shall never forget.

And I wish I could shake hands and thank all of you in the Twitterverse who have tweeted @ me, and those of you who have not, for I know you tweeted your honest convictions. And now, we must stand together and move the great world of Twitter forward.

This is the day of my confirmation as a Verified Account on Twitter. And on this day I feel a deep obligation to renew my pledges, my covenants with you, the people of the Twitterverse.

General Robert E. Lee said that "duty" is the sublimest word on the English language and I have come, increasingly, to realize what he meant. I SHALL do my duty to you, God helping, to every man, to every woman, yes, to every child who tweets. I shall fulfill my duty toward improving search and making sure you never see the fail whale so that no man shall ever have to refresh the page and no child shall even consider switching micro-blogging platforms.

Today I have stood, where once @aplusk stood, and taken an oath to my tweeters. It is very appropriate then that from this Home of the Hipsterocracy, this very Heart of the Great Anglo-Saxon Twitterverse, that today we sound the drum for freedom as have our generations of forebears before us done, time and time again through history. Let us rise to the call of freedom-loving blood that is in us and send our answer to the tyranny that clanks its chains upon Twitter. In the name of the greatest people that have ever trod this earth, I draw the line in the dust and toss the gauntlet before the feet of tyranny...and I say...segregation today...segregation tomorrow...segregation forever.

The way that negroes use Twitter is disgusting and revealing. We will not sacrifice our children to any such type of hashtags--and you can write that down. The FCC could be better used guarding the safety of Foursquare, where it is even unsafe to check in without fear of being immediately surrounded by blipsters. I was safer on MySpace during the mid-2000s, than the people of the Twitterverse are when they tweet about Michael Jackson!

Let us send this message back to @ev by our representatives who are with us today...that from this day we are standing up, and the heel of tyranny does not fit the neck of an upright man...that we intend to take the offensive and carry our fight for freedom across the Twitterverse, wielding the balance of power we know we possess in the Twitterverse...that WE, not the insipid bloc of tweeters of some sections...will determine in the next list of recommended users, who shall have the most followers...That from this day, from this hour...from this minute...we give the word of a race of honor that we will tolerate their bad grammar and oversharing in our face no longer...and let those certain judges put that in their opium pipes of power and smoke it for what it is worth.

In united effort we were meant to live under the Twitter terms of service...and each race, within its own framework has the freedom to @reply, to hashtag, to post twitpics...to ask for and receive deserved help from others of separate racial stations. This is the great freedom of Twitter's founding fathers...but if we amalgamate into the one unit as advocated by the social media blogs, then the enrichment of our lives, the freedom for our development, is gone forever. We become, therefore, a mongrel unit of one under a single all powerful trending topic, and we stand for everything...and for nothing.

The true brotherhood of America, of respecting the separateness of others, and uniting in effort, has been so twisted and distorted from its original concept that there is a small wonder that hashtags like #bitchplease are winning the world.

We invite the negro citizens of the Twitterverse to work with us from their separate racial station, as we will work with them, to develop, to grow in individual freedom and enrichment. We want jobs and a good future for BOTH races, the functionally illiterate and the overly witty. There must be a place for both professional athletes and social media professionals...for we all have too much time on our hands.

I promise you that I will try to make you proud of my Verified Account status. I promise you that, as Twitter gives me certain special features, I will make sure that whites never have to see negro trending topics or @replies. A steady diet of tweets about bacon, technology, and self-referential humor will rule the day.

And my prayer is that the Father (@ev) who reigns above us will bless all the people of this great Twitterverse, both white and black.

I thank you.