Separated at Birth: Ryan Seacrest and Mark Anthony

Does anyone else see this one? It's hard to see because Seacrest is always smiling and Marc is never smiling. Seacrest out.

Russ's Collage du Who Knows What Jour

This one is called "Diplomacy." Its Kissinger and Powell going to prom. That's actually me under Powell - it's my junior prom picture. Look how skinny I was! Those were the days!

The dude I went with was dumb as rocks, but he was hot. He got transferred from the next high school for being naughty. He looked like Richard Greico (who I thought was hot back then, gross) but had the Johnny Depp tattoo of the huge Native American head and dressed all James Dean with a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pack of Marlboro reds tucked in. People were jealous of me. Ha. Oh and he stole that car. It was pretty fly.

Silly Cat Picture Starring Orangello & Sophia

The other day Bunches called on his way home from Target and told me that, among other things, he had purchased "cat stuff." I thought he meant food and litter. Silly me. Of course he meant neckties!!!

I love these ties so much. They are the only hilarious cat clothing that I have ever seen a cat tolerate. I guess because it's a collar. Orangello wouldn't sit still for his picture, by the way. I guess he was too excited about his tie. I love them so much that I wrote a jingle for them, should the cat necktie people ever feel that they need a commercial:

Orangello got to his desk at 9
Cuz you know the boss likes it when he's on time
He's using Excel and Microsoft Word
He's a business cat - haven't you heard?

Business cat, he's a business cat
He's wearing his tie
Cuz he knows where it's at

Business cat, yes business cat
Puts on his tie
And his business hat

Sophia rolls into the meeting room
You know she's gonna get that promotion soon
She's working hard, working overtime
Gotta take home every last dime

Business cat, she's a business cat
She's wearing her tie
Cuz she knows where it's at

Business cat, yes business cat
Puts on her tie
Smooths her suit down flat

Orangello eats his lunch at the mall
Goes to the food court cuz they got it all
Sophia goes to the Blue Ridge Grill
Because she's a VP and can foot the bill

Business cats, they’re business cats
Wearing their ties
Cuz they know where it's at

Business cats, and it ain't no lie
You can tell by their suits
And their business ties

Russ's Collage du Who Knows What Jour

This one is called "Self-Promotion, Fallujah, 2006." Some new movie in which Tom Cruise chews all the scenery is opening this weekend, so this one's for you, Tom! (please note that Tom will probably sure me over this. You bettter believe I will NEVER make a collage with Prince! What the fuck crawled up his ass? He's suing a fucking baby for dancing to "Let's Go Crazy" on YouTube! I kid you not! Looks like somebody already did go crazy!)

Separated at Birth: Boy George and King Tut

My Mom came up with this one. But I found the perfect picture of George O'Dowd!

They Actually Paid a Bunch of Morons to Come Up With This?

I saw a commercial for this the other night (and then approximately 50 more times) and couldn't believe my ears/eyes. Have you seen this latest variation on the cat litter theme? Can you believe this shit (pun intended)? Just in case Odor Alert litter is news to you, allow me to fill you in. Rather, allow Arm & Hammer to fill you in:

"No matter how frequently you scoop out the clumps, you may miss some soiled pieces — which gradually accumulate and begin to smell. New ARM & HAMMER® Odor Alert™ Cat Litter is the only litter with Pre-Odor Indicators that turn blue on contact with urine. So you can see and remove the source of odor BEFORE you can smell it! "

Pre-Odor Indicators? Have you ever SMELLED cat pee? There is no pre-odor! It commences with stinking horribly the second it emerges from the cats nether regions!!! The only pre-odor indicator that makes sense is one that alerts you to an approaching cat with a full bladder. Cat pee is not GOING to smell - it already fucking smells!!! Geez!!! Bunches is always crabbing about how they keep reinventing pizaa (stuffed crust, whole pizza stuffed, two pizzas on top of each other with the top pizza upside down, pizza in strips instead of triangles, and so on). At least that shit can be tasty. This is just stupid. Pre-odor my ass. My panties are in such a wad over this, I need a dose of "The Lighter Side of...", and I mean the real thing!

HA! That is so true! How many times have I reluctantly laid down my giant old school scrub brush while my head was all lathered up and left a relaxing bath only to find that what I THOUGHT was my doorbell was in fact Archie Bunker's doorbell? I ask you!!!

I Knew It!!!

I always had a feeling about George & Pervez, but I can't believe they have decided to go public with their relationship! And I REALLY can't believe that they are going public by telling us about their phone sex!!! I mean, did Bush REALLY say "I told him to take off his uniform." I need more info. Did he ask Pervez what he was wearing first? Because, you know, if it was nighttime, Pervez may have had on his military pyjamas insyead of his regular uniform. You know, the ones with the built-in feet and the fuzzy epaulets?

And what was the rest of the conversation? Did he tell him to start with the jacket and take it off REAL SLOW? Was there phone-licking involved? Did George make Pervez say hot, sexy things like "martial law," "suspended elections," and "groups of more than five people may not gather in public?"

Ladies, get your brassieres and matches out!

This weekend ladies everywhere will be observing the 30th anniversary of the First Women's National Congress, held in Houston all those years ago. Or, I guess, they won't—or at least I won't—because... the first I heard of it was this morning on the Brian Lehrer Show. (Ladies, can we get our PR machine in order?)

Anyway, this weekend at Hunter College a bunch of feminist leaders will meet to update the pro-women platform that was constructed back in '77, which included hot button topics like equal pay, equal rights, reproductive freedom, domestic abuse, child care, lesbian rights, minority women, and education.

I guess we won't be crossing any of those items off the list.

Some lady leader I'd never heard of (surprise, surprise) said on the radio this morning that "updating" the platform will really entail adding on to it topics like expanded rights for lesbians, protections for sex workers, and stricter punishment for sex trafficking. And they'll also talk about men: male feminists, how men feel about feminism, etc..

Umm... hello? Why the fuck are we talking about male feminism at a ladies congress? And why are we talking about male feminism in this day and age when young women don't even call themselves feminists? Let's talk instead about why we don't yet have a lady president in office, why the lady who is running for president gets put through the wringer every day (and people think it has nothing to do with her being a lady?!), and why so many women and their children are starving in 2007, in America, the richest country that has ever existed in the history of the fucking universe. What the fuck?! I'm all for third wave feminism, mainly because, what choice do I have, really, but can't we just fucking band together? Let's NOT talk about men and let's pound some sense into young girls who think feminism is an idea of the past.

So, if anyone wants to join me, I'll be on the sidewalk in front of Hunter this weekend setting my brasserie on fire. If I wasn't making $.71 to the male dollar, I might consider burning two.

On the Lighter Side...Police Academy Edition

You know it's time for an edition of "On the Lighter Side..." when Pat Robertson says or does ANYTHING and when R2 and I start praying that aliens will abduct us. This is especially indicative of a high stress level for me, since I am absolutely terrified of aliens due to watching way too many alien abduction TV shows as a kid. R2, and everyone else I know, make big time fun of me because I think Signs is the scariest movie ever made. If Bunches makes the clicking sound that the aliens make, I seriously hide under the bed for like a week. You better believe he is ALWAYS making that fucking sound. I found my black cashmere turtleneck under the bed the other day! Just kidding, I wish. I don't know where the hell that thing got to. I think the cats are wearing it while I'm at work.

But I digress (shock!). Lately I have been thinking quite a bit about the Police Academy movies. Oh, who am I kidding - I am always thinking about Police Academy. Mahoney, Lassard, Mauser, Sweetchuck, Hightower, Tackleberry, Jones & Hooks, blonde lady with big boobs in the wet t-shirt who fucks the Japanese dude...I love you all. But my true love is Proctor. Proctor has to be among the all time greatest bumblers in cinema history. Here's one of my favorite scenes featuring Proctor. I'm wondering if the phrase "salad tossing" was in usage when this movie came out, because if it was, the reference to "the best salad bar in town" is devillishly clever. Oh, and by the way, has a sex act ever been as poorly described by its nickname as salad tossing? I mean, there is not even a hint there as to what's going on. I had to google that shit!

On that note, do NOT google "teradactyl" if your grandmother is in the room. For some reason my whole family and I were discussing the word roots in that particular dinosaurs name (yes, we are all raging nerds, apparently, not just me), so I googled it...suffice to say, teradactyl is not just a flying dinosaur anymore. I found two other defnitions, neither of which were grandmother-in-the-room-friendly!

Back to Police Academy. My favorite is #2 (if you were Mahoney, you would make a joke of that). It was the first one I saw. I was 10. I must have seen it 50 times. It is one of many 80s movies to feature wild and crazy punks who have nothing in common with actual punks.

Mahoney story: One time R2 and I were on the beach in Queens (shut up) and retired to the sand dunes to blaze a fatty. Upon returning to Bunches and our potato chip-encrusted bedsheet/makeshift beach blanket, a cop walked by. Being stoned and paranoid, we were all "look cool, be cool, cop, cop!", but he passed on by. Literally one minute later, a cop went by on a bike. We were like, "Huh?" Then, a police helicopter flew by. By now we were laughing. Then Bunches says, look, there's a cop on a horse. We were like, ha ha, very funny, but there really was a cop on a horse! Then one went by in one of those little carts with three wheels. Then a car. There were other modes of transportation involved (I think we counted 10 total - a little help, R2?), but the piece de resistance was a cop on a four wheel ATV - just like Mahoney in the opening scene of Police Academy 2!! Needless to say, we were already almost dying laughing, but this seriously nearly killed us.

There are so many more great things to say about Police Academy. Citizens on Patrol is pretty fucking good, for example. I love that David Spade and Ratner From Fast Times are skate punks (a later variation on the punk theme, and just as poorly rendered in most every case) and a bunch of big time skaters from the 80s are in it (another 80s movie standard - where there are poorly rendered skater characters, there are actual real skaters standing right next to them who apparently had no input at all). There is not enough room in the world to say all that has to be said about Police Academy, and I have work to (very reluctantly) do.

Rudy's shit hitting the fan

Shit! Pat Robertson has endorsed Ghouliani! Someone is going to have to shoot him. I mean shoot Rudy, but why not take out Pat Robertson while we're at it? Apparently, Ghouli and Pat became good friends while recovering from prostate cancer. That's some serious male bonding.

Meanwhile, America is insisting that sexism is not at play in Hillary coverage.

Are we living in an alternate reality? Hello? Will the UFO that swept over Kucinich's head at Shirley MacLaine's house please pick me up and transport me to far off land?

Russ's Collage du Who Knows What Jour

This one is called "Modified FBI Technique; Neck Index Technique; Classic FBI Technique." I recommend clicking on the picture so you can appreciate W's facial expressions.

Russ's Collage du Who Knows What Jour

It's been a while. This one is called "Diddy, Tehran, 1979 (After David Burnett)"

Separated at Birth: Count Chocula and Giuliani

I highly doubt I am the first person to think of this. And does Giuliani wear dentures??? Did he knock all his teeth out chewing on the skulls of Puerto Ricans and sex workers?

Pretty-Off: Japanese Dude Edition

To show that my objectification of men knows no racial, ehtnic, or national boundaries, I am going to go ahead and hold the next pretty-off today, hot on the heels of the first pretty-off. Don't ask me why these pretty-offs are categorized by ehtnicity - they just are. The closest thing I have to an answer is that there are a lot of pretty dudes out there and you have to categorize them somehow. Maybe when we've had all the pretty-offs, we can have a battle royale of the races. Kind of like Survivor did that one season. Or kind of like the battle of the sexes in tennis, except everybody is a dude and they are all way, way prettier than Billie Jean King. I'm thinking maybe of an ugly-fof too, but I'm so sure that Andrew Lloyd Weber would win that there is really very little point. Let me know if you want to nominate someone. And let me know if you disagree with the winners I choose of the various pretty-offs, or if I left someone very, very pretty out of the competition.

Let me just point out that this is a PRETTY-off, not a handsome-off. So don't be thinking that Allen Iverson is my favorite black dude to look at, because he isn't. I dig him, but I dig Adewale Akinnouye-Agbaje (Simon Adebesi from Oz) more (even though I hear he's a total pill in real life),
or that the winner of the Japanese dude pretty-off is my favorite Japanese dude - he's not; Takashi Sorimachi is.
At the end of the day, I prefer handsome to pretty (see my Alain Delon vs. Jean-Paul Belmondo post). Don't mean I don't like me some pretty, though. So, without further ado, I present for your consideration the following assorted wagashi (delicious Japanese confections):



That's soccer star Hidetoshi Nakata (top), baseball player Kazuo Matsui (center), and baseball player Ichiro Suzuki (bottom). If you've been reading this blog, you know who the winner is. Ichiro!!! Take your sash, please, Ichiro, and I expect to see it on you on opening day next spring. I don't care if it fucks with your pitching arm. The only reason I am even watching baseball at all is to perv out over you and the other hot guys (which is, like, 3 dudes tops - baseball players are an apocalyptically ugly bunch. Yuck, I shudder just thinking about fat disgusting frat boys like Roger Clemens and pock-marked hicks like Randy Johnson. Why did I just think about them? Now I have to think about Tom Glavine for approximately 17 straight hours to wash the folds of my brain clear of those two horrible, horrible, horrible men.)

Pretty-Off: Black Dude Edition

I don't know why I'm thinking about this shit right now. I'm supposed to be getting ready to go out and am currently wearing underwear, a sweat-smelling Little Miss Bad t-shirt, glasses, no maekup, and more grease on my hair than Gale and Evelle apply in the gas station bathroom right after they break out of prison in Raising Arizona. Only mine is natural! So in the name of procrastination, I was flipping through my newly arrived issue of Entertainment Weekly (an excellent publication, by the way - they have way better writing and more cred than I ever expected. I guess I was just too creeped out by how socially inept Dalton Ross always seemed when he did his little segments on New York 1) and saw this photo of Chris Brown (top photo). You may remember him as the guy who showed Brit how it's done at the VMAs. I have pretty much given up trying to keep up with youth culture, but I do know who Chris Brown is. Sort of. Anyway, I found myself thinking,"He's pretty, but is he as pretty as Chingy?" For those of you who don't know, Chingy (bottom photo) is a hip hop semi-star who basically parlayed Nelly's St. Louis accent into an entire career. He did do one fucking great jam though - "Holidae Inn", with Snoop and Ludacris. It's about hotel parties, which I fucking love and am constantly trying to throw, to little avail (although I did have three in a row at K & Ms wedding, when I wisely booked the giant suite), and Ludacris has a great line where he says "make your mammary glands jiggle." But at the end of the day, the main thing about Chingy (thingy about Chingy?) is that he is exceedingy pretty. He's one of those people who you have to see moving around to truly appreciate, so if you give a fuck, and I'm betting my cats that you don't, I suggest you head to You Tube. I had pretty much declared Chingy the victor, but then I remembered the fairest of them all: Allen Iverson (center). Not many people seem to appreciate the beauty of Allen's face, and it's a shame. Yeah, he is a great b-baller, and yeah, he's a fucking thug with awesome tattoos, but he spends more time and money on his hair than Naomi Campbell, I guarantee it, and his face is just as pretty. Prettier, actually! So we have a winner. I am sending him a sash that says "Mr. Pretty Black Dude." It'll take a few days to reach him, but watch for him to be wearing it when the Nuggets take on the Knicks next Tuesday, or shortly thereafter. I hope it doesn't fuck up his game.

Oh My God Oh My God Oh My God

Okay, I can barely contain my excitement. It is literally like trying to stuff a sleeping bag back into its carrying case (or an umbrella, your choice). I have been quietly freaking out for several months now at the prospect of the adaptaion of "No Country for Old Men", the newest Coeh brothers movie. I knew it was comng, but I had no idea it was coming NEXT WEEKEND!!!!! While I am embarassed to admit that I have neither read this nor any other Cormac McCarthy novel (which I plan to do immediately - I want to read this before the movie comes out), I have seen every single Coen brothers film at least once. Yes, even The Ladykillers, god help me (I think I have written before about how a major fuck-up only further endears those I love to me because it makes me feel better about myself - e.g. I could kiss Martin Amis for writing Night Train). I would estimate that I have seen Raising Arizona well over 100 times. I often get that Barton Fink feeling. My entire vocabulary is littered with Coen-isms. I will never "be right back" - no, I will always "be back directly." Nine times out of ten, when Orangello meows to me, I say "Ju said it mah, don fuck wid da jesus." I have not called a white russian a white russian for some time now. I often implore Bunches to look into his heart. Food is not good, but "pretty darn good." And so on.

The fact that Javier Bardem is starring in this new film only quintuples my excitment. I love, love, love him and think he is not only one of the handsomest men to ever draw breath, but also one of the greatest actors to ever grace the screen. I find it difficult to think of "Before Night Falls" without sobbing uncontrollably.

The sense that he conveys of a free spirit embarking on life with wild-eyed enthusiasm, drinking up experience and just truly living, and the sense of that free spirit being crushed by the man, the way the life and color and expression and joie de vivre drains from his face by the end of the film... it is so fucking heartbreaking that I actually think it made me cry harder than Jack Twist in Brokeback (am I alone in thinking Jake Gyllenhaal really nailed that shit? God he was just so sweet and optimistic and then so horribly, horribly crushed, and the fact that you don't see it, and it's kind of vague..oh man...). Javier made me forgive Julian Schnabel for both Basquiat (Julian, you WISH you looked like Gary Oldman, and, hate to say it, David Bowie's Warhol is a distant third to Crispin Glover's [#2] and Jared Harris's [#1], and please somebody fold Claire Forlani into a paper airplane and throw her into the caves at Tora Bora, post haste!! I can't believe John Favreau called her skanky irritating ass that many times and was actually bummed that she dissed him. Score, I say!) and those fucking broken dishes paintings. Javier was straight-up ROBBED of the Oscar for that role. ROBBED, I tell you! Yeah, Gladiator whupped major ass and made me actually want to sit on Russell Crowe's short obnoxious Australian wanker lap for a minute, but Oscar-worthy? Over BARDEM? NO! His NOSE deserves a fucking Oscar, for god's sake. Best Performance by a Nose in a Real Life Role.

I am not a violent person, but Javier's rugby nose has made me contemplate on more than one occasion hitting Bunches in the face with a shovel in an attempt to recreate it (and he has a nice broken nose already). Growing up, my parents had this really cool black horse's head sculpture that looked really fancy and heavy but was in fact really light like those fake rocks they would stack up all around Adam Curry/Ricky Rachtman on the Headbanger's Ball set. I was always fascinated by the beautiful lines of that horse's face - it didn't look like a real horse, but more like a horse as painted on a Greek vase (a krater or an amphora or whatever - yeah I took Art History 101, so what?). Javier Bardem looks exactly like that horse. I used to sit and run my hand along its smooth flat black nose, sometimes with my eyes closed. If I ever meet Javier, I will ask him if I can do the same thing to him. And I will now resist the urge to talk about running my hand aong other parts of him with my eyes closed. Fuck, I mentioned it!!! Sorry, but me gusta, Me really, really gusta.

In closing, here's hoping that a) No Country for Old Men is the return to form for the Coen brothers that people are saying it is, b) Javier wins an Oscar this time, like people are saying he will, and c) I make it to next weekend without spontaneously combusting out of sheer excitement as I am thinking I might.

Separated at Birth: Nicholas Rowe (aka Young Sherlock Holmes) and Pete Townshend (aka Ivor the Engine Driver)

As promised. And, for the record, I think life imitated art a little TOO much when it comes to Ivor the Engine driver. Little Girl Guide, stop all your crying, here comes Pete Townshend to download a bunch of kiddie porn and then say it was just for research. Duh, Pete - the excuse is that it's art. Preferably Victorian art. You need to get with Paul Rubens and Jeffrey Jones, stat. Also for the record, A Quick One While He's Away is in my top 10 favorite songs of all time. Me and Bunches sing it when we drive and we have that shit down pat. I always get to be Entwhistle and when I sing "You are forgiven", Bunches sings "You are a gibbon." (a gibbon...a gibbon...a gibbon...sorry, I am singing it now). Finally, for the record, there is an alarmingly small number of pictures of Nicholas Rowe out there, so that little one is the best I could do. If I were him, I would be pissed. And not just about the career death and the nose!!!

On the Lighter Side...

Remember back in the day Mad magazine had a section called "On the Lighter Side" with little cartoons about the lighter side of everyday life? I remeber I had two Mad magazines as a kid that I inherited from god knows where or whom, but I loved them so much and read them until Alfred E. Newman's face wore off and the fold-in fell to pieces. I haven't read Mad in years so I don't know if they still do this, but back then the feature of each issue was a movie spoof. The two I had were "The Empire Strikes Out" and "Young Sureschlock Holmes." Oh man, did they play up the schnozz on whoever the fuck that was in Young Sherlock Holmes. Come to think of it, was that Pete Townsend?? Do I feel a separated at birth coming on? Hell yes I do. Stay tuned. Anyway, "On the Lighter Side" had stuff like two dudes talking and making fun of older people: "Yeah, my parents don't know if Fleetwood Mac is a Cadillac shaped like a hamburgr or a hamburger shaped like a Cadillac." Zing! Take that, oldsters! You are way less cool than that hip young Chritine McVie and Lindsey Buckingham! Eat it, man!!! And then there was Spy vs. Spy.

I have a feeling I would appreciate that a lot more today, kind of like Doonesebury and Bloom County (I will never get Mary Worth, sorry...I mean, what the fuck was that shit doing in my funny pages? That shit ain't funny! I'll take Family fucking Circle over that preachy bitch! Damn!)
Anyway, my point is, it gets pretty heated here at Zeitgeisty. R2 and I generally fluctuate between psychotic ranting and St. Teresa of Avila-esque ecstatic adoration. (that's me listening to The Stooges, or R2 listening to Kucinich). So, in the tradition of my main Jew Alfred E. Newman, I am re-introducing On the Lighter Side as a category. Only fun, light subkect matter need apply. On the Lighter Side is all about taking a calm, relaxed view on shit. Even crazy shit that makes you feel like acting like the Tasmanian Devil, or Bill O'Reilly, or whatever. Case in point: I had a real day of it at work yesterday. I was running around like Carl Lewis all fucking day and got great feedback from some clients and nothing but grief from one of my assorted various bosses (I work for a regular Whitman's Sampler of freaky attorneys). Partway through the day I realized who I felt like and changed my desktop background image accordingly to this:
Now, you tell me, does it GET any lighter than Cannonball Run (1 or 2)?? I think not. And Dom DeLuise and I share a birthday (fuck you, Peter DeLuise. I don't care when your birthday is, nor do I care where you have been all these years).

I feel a Cannonball Run post coming on. A curse on this internet fatwa at my job. No, a fatwa on this fatwa!!!

We're Living With Dog Poo (So What?)

As you may have noticed, I have been psychologically dormat for some time now (hence no posts), but I am back and better than ever, and what better way to show it than with one of my favorite past-times, righteous and strident confrontation? I know most people fear public speaking and many fear confrontation. I, on the other hand, could gladly get up on a stage and indignantly yell at wrongdoers for at least two hours every day. In fact, I may well start doing that. Does Atlanta have a Speaker's Corner? Perhaps I will just make myself a sandwich board in the style of one of those old-fashioned "The End is Nigh" dudes and walk around in traffic like a fireman collecting change in his upside down helmet. Difference being, my sign will read "Most of you totally fucking SUCK. Would you like to know why?"

Anyway, the title of this post is to be sung to the tune of the Stooges' "Dog Food." And yes, this involves that old chestnut, dog owners who do not pick up their dog's poo. Sadly, Bunch & I have a neighbor who falls under this category. Even more sadly, the most popular doggy-do-ing area in our neighborhood happens to be right next to our house. As I am not only always up for confrontation but often actively seeking it, and dog poo is a major pet peeve of mine, I began spying on the neighborhood dog people promptly upon moving into our pad. It's very difficult to officially confirm that dog poo has been left - you have to actually see the poo coming out of the butt and the owner walking away from it. This is easier than it sounds. The culprits generally stand a little ways away, so I can se the dog crouching but can't confirm that the number of the ablution being performed (1 or 2). (aside - girl dogs should start peeing like boy dogs - this would solve all the problems) I can run over real fast to check, but it's important to me that I not look like a psycho (too late, I'm sure), so I kind of saunter over after they have started to walk away, and then it's tough to say that the poo I find definiftely came from that dog. I like for my indigantion to me unimpeachable, so I err on the side of sitting quietly, peeping through my blinds like a poo-obsessed cobra (with blinds), waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Last night all of the poo stars aligned and I struck. Ha! I yelled after the offending neighbor, asking her if she meant to leave the poo, and she said yes!!!! Let me repeat, !!!!!!! She instantly became horribly agressive, shouting over me as I expelained to her that not only was it disgusting, but she was also breaking the law. She flat out refused to pick up, depsite my telling her that it was no different than me pulling my pants down and pooing on her doorstep (which she failed to register as an actual threat, not merley an analogy). It took ever fiber of my being not to take the poo and leave it on her dooretsp, but I took the high road. I the poo away, and then I sat right down and wrote myself a letter, as the song goes. Here is the letter, slightly edited to protect my top-secret identity from the one person I don't know who occasionally read this blog:

Re: Violation of Cobb County Ordinance § 10-138(b) (the “Ordinance”)

Dear Ms. [ASSWIPE]:

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is [RUSS] and I am your neighbor at [101 CANDYLAND LANE]. We spoke yesterday, October 31, 2007, at 6:50 p.m. regarding your refusal to properly dispose of feces left by your dogs in the public area immediately adjacent to my property. I am writing to inform you that you are in violation of the above-referenced Ordinance regarding the proper disposal of animal feces and to repeat my reasonable and legal request that you comply with this Ordinance immediately.

I would like you to understand that I in no way wish to be un-neighborly or cause any discord or strife among the residents of [SUBURBAN DYSTOPIA]. Quite to the contrary, I feel that it is you who is being un-neighborly and creating an unpleasant atmosphere. Not only are you putting the health of your fellow residents and their pets at risk, your nasty attitude when I politely approached you regarding this issue is a disgrace to the spirit of a condominium community such as [SUBURBAN DYSTOPIA]. Your fellow residents strive to coexist harmoniously and we all – yourself included – pay monthly dues of Two-Hundred Forty Dollars ($240.00) to maintain as pleasant an environment as possible, a fee that includes landscaping which you are in effect vandalizing. The fact that your defense when approached regarding the violation of the Ordinance was that you have lived here for twenty-five (25) years and never picked up after your dogs is shameful, disgusting, and laughable.

Furthermore, you claim that other dog-owning residents do not pick up after their dogs. I can assure you, Ms. [ASSWIPE], that this is not the case. I take this issue very seriously and, although I can obviously neither speak for every resident nor account for the feces of every dog on every occasion, I can attest that, in the course of my observation, you are the sole resident in violation of the Ordinance.

Although I find it highly implausible that you truly think it is acceptable to leave dog feces in public areas which all residents share and pay to maintain, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. Hence, I have enclosed the Ordinance for your edification (please see Exhibit A). Furthermore, I am treating you with the neighborly respect that you refuse your fellow residents in that I am refraining from lodging a formal complaint at this time. By copy of this letter to the both the [SUBURBAN DYSTOPIA] Condominium Association, Inc. and the Solicitor General (the Cobb County official responsible for prosecuting ordinance violations), I am simply establishing a public record of our dispute.

Please be aware that, in addition to continuing your violation of the Ordinance, it would be highly inadvisable for you to engage in any sort of further un-neighborly behavior, such as retaliation. I do not wish to imply that you would contemplate such action, but I must say that your aggressive and hysterical reaction to my simple request that you help keep our neighborhood healthy, safe, and clean warrants this mention. We have all heard horror stories of simple neighborhood disputes becoming something much more serious due to the overreaction of the parties involved. My request to you is legal, reasonable, and politely stated, and your only proper response is to cease your violation of the Ordinance.

Ms. [ASSWIPE], I thank you for your time in reading this and expect a positive resolution to this issue. If I witness you violating the Ordinance again, I will have no choice but to lodge a formal complaint with both the housing association and the authorities.

GOVERN YOUR ACTIONS ACCORDINGLY.

Sincerely,

[RUSS]

Exhibit A

COBB COUNTY ORDINANCE § 10-138(b)

a) Animal owners must keep their yard, property, porches, balconies, decks, etc. reasonably free of animal feces. Animal waste will be removed in a timely manner by placing said material in a closed or sealed container and thereafter disposing of it in the animal owner’s trash receptacle, sanitary disposal unit, or other closed or sealed refuse container.

(b) Persons who permit their animals to defecate on public or private property other than their own property are required to immediately pick up the feces, bag the feces, and properly dispose of the feces. Animal waste shall be removed by placing said matter in a closed or sealed container and thereafter disposing of it in the animal owner’s or public trash receptacle, sanitary disposal unit or other closed or sealed refuse container.

(c) Any person found in violation of subsection (a) or (b) of this section shall be in violation of this chapter, subject to the following exceptions:

1. Persons using guide dogs or assistance dogs are exempt from removing feces;
2. Hunting dogs being used in a legal hunt with permission of the property owner; or
3. Law enforcement officers working police trained dogs.

[END OF LETTER]

Sometimes I am really glad I work at a law firm. It teaches you how to write very polite yet threatening letter. In closing, people, pick up your dog poo. This isn't fucking Paris.

From the mouths of freaks

Oh god! This is too good! I'm sitting in my work cubby trying my damndest to squelch the squeals welling up inside! Manna from heaven, I tell you!

Kucinich, MacLaine, alien encounters. People, you couldn't make this stuff up! Check out the Plain Dealer's "Shirley MacLaine claims Kucinich had UFO encounter" below.

Incidentally, I grew up in an era where my first taste of Shirley MacLaine came via Terms of Endearment (and other way worse late-career movies) and her bizarre-o memoirs, like Out on a Limb, that detail dalliances with aliens and (human) sexual partners. But then a few years ago, I watched The Apartment and was blown away. Hard to believe, but Shirl used to be extremely adorable, charming, and not at all scary. The Trouble with Harry and Irma La Douce are both fun too, but you must check out The Apartment. Jack Lemmon is fantastic too. I do not exaggerate when I say that it is one of the best American movies ever made and I'll fist fight anyone who disagrees.

Poor Den Den. People are having enough trouble accepting his short stature and vegan politics! This is simply more fodder for poking fun, I suppose.


Shirley MacLaine claims Kucinich had UFO encounter
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Mark Naymik
Plain Dealer Politics Writer

Democratic presidential candidate Dennis Kucinich has claimed to have seen a UFO, according to Shirley MacLaine in her new book, "Sage-Ing While Age-Ing."

Kucinich "had a close sighting over my home in Graham, Washington, when I lived there," the actress, a close Kucinich friend, wrote. "Dennis found his encounter extremely moving. The smell of roses drew him out to my balcony where, when he looked up, he saw a gigantic triangular craft, silent, and observing him.

"It hovered, soundless, for 10 minutes or so, and sped away with a speed he couldn't comprehend. He said he felt a connection in his heart and heard directions in his mind."

Kucinich's campaign and congressional representatives did not return calls and e-mail asking whether the Cleveland Democrat, now in his sixth congressional term, in fact saw a UFO or if there was some other explanation for MacLaine's recollection.

MacLaine is a well-known believer of UFOs and reincarnation. And she has been close to Kucinich for decades. MacLaine is the godmother of Kucinich's daughter and attended Kucinich's 2005 Cleveland wedding to third wife, Elizabeth, who's often campaigning by his side.

MacLaine also recommended in the 1980s that Kucinich visit New Mexico spiritual adviser Chris Griscom, whom MacLaine featured in her then-best-selling book, "Dancing in the Light," describing how Griscom helped her communicate with trees. Kucinich has insisted that Griscom was not his spiritual adviser but a "teacher and a very good friend."

MacLaine, who shares Kucinich's opposition to using weapons in space, doesn't shed any more light in her book on Kucinich's close encounter, including when it happened. Her book goes on sale next month.

Ghetto rumor mill

Actual quote I heard while walking home today, uttered by a girl who looked to be 14:

"I don't know why they said we sent Blender [?] over to knife that n*****. They're just making shit up."

Ouch.

Luv ya, Sweet Jesus!

Story in yesterday's New York Post

CHOCOLATE JESUS REBORN
October 17, 2007 -- Chocolate Jesus is resurrected.

"My Sweet Lord," a nude anatomically correct milk chocolate sculpture of Jesus Christ that infuriated Catholics before its April unveiling was canceled, returns Oct. 27 to a Chelsea art gallery, its creator said yesterday. This time, artist Cosimo Cavallaro said he expects no problems.

"There is nothing offensive about this," Cavallaro said of his 6-foot confection.

The Catholic League, which led the charge against the earlier exhibit, because of its timing -a day after Palm Sunday - and location - in a Manhattan gallery visible to passersby - won't protest this time.

"This is much less an in-your-face assault on Christians, and it's not happening during Holy Week," said Kiera McCaffrey, the league's director of communications.

What the Hell is That?

This past Saturday, the entire Russ clan went to commune with various fleabitten farm animals at the Smith Plantation's Fall Farm Day. This momentous occasion occurs once a year, when Roswell's premiere antebellum tourist attraction, The Archibald Smith Plantation Home, flings open the doors to its old-timey toolsheds and meticulously replicated slave quarters and invites Roswellians of all ages to spend some much-needed quality time with goats, chickens, sheep, mules and llamas. Well, the llamas may have been alpacas or vicunas - I really couldn't tell you the difference. They also have old-timey activities, like panning gold, and old-timey demonstrations, like a 1,000 year old blacksmith making lawn decorations.

I will avoid the obvious question of why a family ranging in age from 32-82, with nary a small child in sight, would make a special trip to an event otherwise patronized almost entirely by people under 3 feet in height and their chaperones. I will avoid pointing out that not a single parent had Purelle or wet wipes or whatever with them, which would be unheard of at the Propsect Park Zoo's annual farm day, Brooklyn's equivalent event. I will avoid going into detail about how I'm no germ freak, but my heart is squarely with paranoid Brooklyn parents on this issue. To paraphrase Bob Geldof, that place was tick with mixamatosis and anthrax, not to mention fleas, ticks and god knows what else (oh, the Bob Geldof thing is this: Russ Sr and Mrs. Russ Sr. were at a party in Bermuda once upon a time, and Bob Geldof was there, and some fellow reveller suggested he get in the hot tub, and he said, "Are you kidding me? That things tick with AIDS.").

No, I will not be going into any further detail on any of the above because I have a far, far greater vignette from our visit to the Smith Plantation. Let's just say my llama vs. vicuna vs. alpaca confusion was not the only zoological mystery of the day. My story involves this fellow:

I saw this thing from far away and thought it was a Maltese crossed with a chicken and then killed and made into the type of bedroom slipper sold at Frederick's of Hollywood. Shockingly, it wasn't. I was also reminded of the old SNL sketch where Steve Martin and Bill Murray are bumpkin tourists and all you see is them scrutinizing something from the something's perspective and they keep saying "What the hell is that?" over and over again. At some point one of them says "Kids, get your lips off that thing." It well could have been the above-pictured creature (or "critter", as we saw in these parts). Who knows. However, no one in the Russ clan is dumb enough to not figure out that this thing was some kind of fancy chicken. It was chicken-sized, chicken-shaped, and pecked like a chicken.

Not so for the redneck who appraoched my mother and asked her - wait for it - "What the hell is that?" My mother answered that she thought it was some kind of chicken. The redneck paused, sucked his teeth dismissively, and said "No ma'am, I reckon that there is a baby ostich."

I know I make a lot of typos but please note that he really did say ostich.

For the record, it's called a silkie bantam, it is indeed a fancy chicken, and for anyone who is interested, there is an alarming amount of litertaure out there by and for fancy chicken fanciers.

Some Cool Arubuian Shit

Here are some of the more random and unusal photos we took in Aruba. First of all, I have always really liked those hand-drawn baber shop signs that you really don't see much in America. I love them because they tell you even less about the haircutting skills of the barbers within than the incredibly out of date 80's-style photos that cover the exterior of most American hair places. There were a lot of these drawn or painted haircuts in Aruba.


We really liked the Dutch bar food. On the left, bitterballen, which are croquetes filled with a meat ragu. On the right, pork sate. And, of course, fries. I have been known to slam Holland for it's shitty munchy food, but obviously, in my stoned haze, I was looking in the wrong places. I think I was scarred by an early Amsterdam experience in which my best buddy Floris and I got really baked (duh) and bought a big carton of chocolate milk at Schipol airport, only to dicoever, as we shook the open container over our open mouths to no avail that we had ourchased a carton of CHOCOLATE PUDDING. Dutch people were laughing at us. It sucked!

We went into some really old and cool caves in which I saw more bats - and bigger bats - than I have ever seen in my life. They were amazing. We shone our light up into the top of the cave and literally hundreds, maybe even thousands, of bats came out in every direction and never even brished against us, which would have been kind of cool, actually.

Finally, this was my favorite random thing in Aruba. We were driving around literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and we saw this thing:

A Pink-Letter Day!!!

Today is a good day. A fine day. A wonderful day! Not only is the weather beautiful, not only did I have a Dunkin' Donuts Croissant Sandwich for breakfast (does Burger King have exclusive usage rights for the wonderful word "croissanwich"?), not only is it Sunday and hence there is no work and, in my heathenish case, no church - no, there is more. Ariel Pink is coming to Atlanta!!! November 20!!! I EXCITE!! There are about 10 bands/musicians whom I regularly google to see if they are coming here (they include Of Montreal - WHO ARE ALSO PLAYING HERE THIS NOVEMBER - and the Black Lips - WHO ARE ALSO PLAYING HERE THIS NOVEMBER!! - and Welsh rappers Goldie Lookin' Chain, who I doubt I will ever see again, which sucks, even though some chav in head to toe pink burberry plaid slipped me a mickey the last time I saw them, and also The Upper Crust, who dress like they are in the court at Versailles but sound like Bon Scott-era AC/DC - okay, I have to do a photo of them due to their extreme awesomeness)

(and you lucky fuckers in NYC can see them on October 23, apparently. i hate you all.)
ANYWAY! Yes so Ariel Pink will be here at The Earl on November 20 and I can't recall the last time I was this excited for a show. He will be at the Bowery Ballroom on November 12 if you in NYC feel like seeing him. He's playing with Cass McCombs, whom I know little about but like so far. He sounds way more conventional than Areil from what I can tell.
And ha ha The Earl is about 1/8 the size of Bowery Ballroom, so thumbs up for Atlanta on this one.