Some News I Saw Today

One of the perks of living in the media capital of the world is that you hear about a vast array of news items that you might not otherwise encounter. So, to that end, I’m going to give you two of them that caught my eye today.

I had wanted to write about my trip to the Sports Museum of America and another post about Maus, a graphic novel I just finished, but I have a train to catch tomorrow that’s taking me to Rochester for the weekend and I have not packed.

So time has run out on me, but that’s okay.  I’ll post those things later on.  For now, some articles to consider:

10 Things You Can Like About $4 Gas

Here’s an interestingly optimistic take on the rise in gas prices.  Some of these things might have you smiling the next time you fill up your tank. One or two are a little suspect, being based on theory, but these give us something to watch in the coming year.

I have heard on the radio and read in the paper that these gas prices are not likely to be going down anytime soon.  In a year’s time we may actually be pushing $5 per gallon.  It’s all conjecture, but who would have thought we’d see $4 become standard?

This is a quick, interesting read at least.

Starbucks Goes from Venti to Grande

Yes, Virginia, it is possible to be too aggressive in your corporate expansion plans. Oh Starbucks, brewer of fine coffee, then crappy coffee, then a confusing menu of things that don’t sound even remotely coffee related, and now back to a retailer of fine coffee (and coffee-related drinks), how you have suffered of late.

First there was The Starbucks Effect, the odd reversal of the hunters and the hunted, that had Mom and Pop coffee shops relishing the news that Starbucks was opening a store directly across the street from them (Oddly enough, this is the situation for one of my favorite coffee shops in the City. They share a wall with the next door Starbucks shop and business booms…of course, my location might make that situation different than the one being discussed). Still others apparently actively hunted Starbucks locations to open up nearby.

Now comes the news that the coffee giant is going to close some 600 stores nationwide.  They brand it as a corporate restructuring, but we all know what that means.  It means bad news for many a Starbucks employee.  I have no ax to grind with Starbucks. They make some damn fine coffee. But perhaps opening 1,300 life-saving stores in the past year, given the economic slow-down, might have been just a wee bit too aggressive.

Just a thought.

So there you go, a little brain candy and I’m off to pack.  Have a safe and happy Fourth of July Everyone!

Meg has left the building (I hate goodbyes)

I’m sitting here today overlooking an empty apartment. Yesterday, at around 10 am, my roommate Meg moved out to start her new adventures and, in the fall, pursue her medical degree back home. Of course, we’re all very proud of her and wishing her well, but today, just for today, the place feels just that much sadder and emptier. Meg has that kind of personality that fills a place and the physical emptiness seems to be a mirror of the other void.

But we’re only allowed to feel badly for this day. She’ll be back around to visit before school starts, that’s a given. After her school starts, well, the rigors of that degree might likely mean that she won’t be swinging by too often. Also factor in the liquidity of living statuses here in the city, and it’s highly likely that I might not see her again after this summer.

It’s an odd feeling, in a way.  When you factor in all the time that I’ve actually spoken, hung out, or been in the same location as Meg, I might have only actually known her for a cumulative 10 hours; yet it feels much longer than that. Perhaps that comes with sharing a living place, but I feel like I’ve lost a friend, and when you’re new to a city or a town those first friends feel precious indeed.

Kelsi, my other roommate, is still here, thank goodness. I have trips planned to Rochester and to Dundee, NY and very probably a trip down to Baltimore (which might include an Orioles baseball game) in the upcoming months to see family and friends, there are visits in the works for Mom and Sean (my brother) to come visit me near the end of the year, and work is keeping me pretty busy, so there’s plenty for me to be thankful for, to look forward to, and to be swept up in and carried along by. Life has a funny, yet efficient, way of moving you along down the road.

So I can’t stay sad for long.

Just today, as heavy clouds roll in, facing an empty apartment and a friend whose following a path that has diverged from my own, I can afford a heavier heart.

So here’s to this crazy fun life with all its twists and turns and to my friend Meg and her wonderful plans and upcoming adventures. I hope our paths cross again somewhere down the line.

Until then, safe travels, good luck.

The table is gone, the conversations linger.

If walls could talk.

In my my mind, this will always be Meg's Room.

It's a perfect day for feeling this way.

A Parting Thought from George Carlin, himself

And speaking of George Carlin…one of his best lines:

The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What’s that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you’re too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating…and you finish off as an orgasm.

Thanks George.

And now George Carlin…

It’s official, June is out to kill us. All of us. If other months can be said to enter and/or exit like a lion, then that would make June a cracked-out-coked-up Great White Shark with food aggression issues. Today we learned that comedian extrodinaire George Carlin passed away last night from heart failure. In the same way that Tim Russert’s death left a hole in political news coverage, Carlin’s death will leave a hole in stand-up comedy, a genre which, sadly, had already begun leaving him behind for the dreck that graces HBO comedy specials today.

Carlin was the first major comedian that I latched on to. I stumbled on to him in my early teen years, initially attracted to the foul language and the seemingly risque nature of his shows, I would listen and laugh at all the dirty words.

But Carlin’s material ages well.

It’s like a really really dirty, political version of the Muppets; there’s something in there for all ages. Carlin would address and attack anything and everything that he deemed to be ridiculous, be it language usage, religion, environmentalism, even war. He would hit on any and all issues regardless of whose political talking points they might be. Carlin was all about equal opportunity.

Watching his routines (or, if you’re like me, listening to them) you’re left wondering what in the hell has happened to stand-up comedy. Carlin was at once offensive and thought-provoking. His routines were based on events that actually happened, things he had heard or seen with his own eyes. He had wit and a razor sharp tongue and left you with the distinct impression that he read the newspaper every day, looking for his next routine’s victim.

And what now? Larry the Cable Guy? Spare me.

Dane Cook…I won’t even link out to that schmuck.

Carlin stood out of the crowd as a man not afraid to be politically incorrect, have a point, and a joke. He didn’t pander to audiences or to the particular political climate of the day. Carlin was Carlin. You knew that going in. You knew he was going to offend you somehow, but there also existed that suspicious feeling that, when it happened, he just might have a point.

And now June has taken him too. Another great mind gone to rest.

Seven more days of this hellish month left. Personally, at this point, I’ll be glad to be rid of it.

Lost some time somewhere…

Somewhere this weekend I lost some time.  It could have been after I made my long trek through a new part of Central Park.  Or it might have been the build up to meeting roommate possibilities.  It could have been just about anywhere, but in the end time just ran by me and I didn’t get a post up about what I’d been up to this weekend.  So, I’ll just have to do that tomorrow.

So here’s what you can look for:

• A couple pictures I snapped this weekend
• The hunt for a compatible new roomie to replace or dearly departed (to Missouri) former roomie
• My long, long trek on the Bridle Path in Central Park
• The Ameriental Omen

Should be interesting, and for good measure I’ll tell you about the books that I’m reading.  But that’s for Monday.  Until then, have a good night and behave yourselves out there.

Happy Birthday(s)!

Consider this an e-card to all those who are celebrating a birthday in June. In my family, that covers around 157 people (we must really love Autumn).

So Happy Birthday(s) everyone!

Frank Muller

June has been one harsh month for media people whom I respect. I’m late in getting to this one, but audiobook narrator Frank Muller passed away earlier this month due to complications from his motorcycle accident a few years ago.

Frank had a flexible, almost smoky voice, that immersed you in whatever story he was telling. I never got to meet him, but I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve passed listening to him do his thing. When I think Frank Muller, I think of his audiobook recording for Stephen King and Peter Straub’s The Talisman. The story might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you give it a listen you’ll hear an audio actor at the top of his game…and that’s something I think everyone should experience.

So I’ll wave fare thee well to Frank Muller, too, and hopefully we can all just slip past the rest of June.

A happier post next time, promise.

Tim Russert

Tim Russert died yesterday after a sudden collapse. This is very sad news for reasons which will be covered in the media far better than I can chronicle them. It’s sad whenever this sort of thing happens to anyone, really, but in addition to all the human elements that accompany death, the loss of Tim Russert also means the loss of one of the last remaining level voices in television news and politics.

And that’s a real shame.

In an increasing era of blow-hard, red-faced yelling heads who kowtow to their particular party of choice, Russert quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) conducted insightful and often telling interviews with policymakers from both sides of the aisle. He was the thinking politico’s television newsman. It’ll be strange to not have him around on Sunday mornings.

So, while you may not agree with me here, this weekend I believe we are saying an all-too-soon goodbye to one of our generation’s Edgar R Murrows.

So long, Tim. And thanks for everything.

-A Scatterbrained Viewer

The heroic quest for the MoCCA festival

So when we last left off, our intrepid and devilishly handsome hero had sworn an oath to visit the festival of comic and cartoon art in the distant lands of SoHo.

Alas, it is with great sadness and a heavy heart that history shall record, despite his roguish good looks and natural charm with the locals, our hero failed in his quest. Though his task seemed a straightforward one, and his directions were said to be true, the historic Building of Puck was not to be found.

Lo, though he sought the historic Building of Puck for many an hour with the heat of an angry burning sun lashing his body and sensible clothing. And he did trod the street known as Lafayette hither and to, and felt quite stupid at not having stumbled upon his destination (as so many others certainly had found the building, as these pictures proclaim).

But our hero’s quest did not leave him without spoils, of a sort. No, for our hero did seem to begin to suffer from heat exhaustion. At which point our hero did so proclaim (though not too loudly, lest the locals think of him a leper and throw him out): “Lo, I say—screw this! Let us away to the theatre of projected images where I might acquire a cold drink and some popping corn or twizzlers.”

And away our hero rode within an air-conditioned train car submerged beneath the ground. And it delivered him to 42nd street, whereupon he knew two opposing theaters stood. Upon his arrival, he chose to enter the Empire of 25 and the air within was cool and good (and slightly buttery).

And he came upon a counter where the locals did sell their wares and he said, “Hi, one for The Fall, please.” And he did exchange money for a ticket and it was good. And God said, “this is all well and good, but I’ve got some other stuff to take care of, so I’m not going to be in this narrative anymore. Okay? Great. See ya Sunday…or Saturday, or whenever.”

And so sentences stopped beginning with “and.”

THUS our hero rode escalator after escalator until arriving in the sixth floor (or maybe the seventh, our hero’s head was kinda floozy remember). Upon arriving at the sixth (or maybe seventh) floor, our dashing hero ordered an iced tea and a bag of popcorn and, finding himself arrived too far in advance of his show, did walk outside to the balcony area to admire the views of the city. But the weather was still hot, even at this moderately high altitude, so back inside our hero trod.

In time the movie began, and many other travelers arrived at a time which in other company might be described as “fashionably late.” And this did irritate those heroes who were trying to watch the movie, and indeed the idea of a good old-fashioned smiting did seem in order, but cooler heads did prevail and with time all were settled in to watch the performance.

The film was a good one, far surpassing our imminently intelligent hero’s expectations, especially after he had read critical reviews of the film. However, an aching head did temper his enjoyment and after the film had ended, away he rode to home.

He would spend that night in fitful bouts of sleep and exhaustion, drinking as many fluids as he could and sitting in front of a fan that seemed to do little more than blow hot air, as I am doing now. And in time our hero replenished himself of water and vowed to stay inside for the remainder of the weekend.

This he did and Sunday was uneventful, but at least he felt himself again. Unfortunately, there was little to report upon.

And so, that is the tale of a wasted weekend, an impossible to find festival, and our hero’s slightly floozy head. Perhaps in time, when the weather doth knock it off a bit, he will again venture to the crowded land of SoHo and seek out the MoCCA. But not this week.

Stayeth thou tuned…

Garfield Minus Garfield (plus an update)

I am so addicted to this site. Seriously, check it out. It’s called Garfield Minus Garfield and it is just that. It only take a minute to subtract a character from this strip (the simple background color schemes make that easy) but the humor just keeps on rolling.

In other news: more updates this weekend. I’ll be attending the MoCCA Art Festival and taking pictures and whatnot. So you can expect info on what I get up to and what I find while I’m there.

Stay tuned…