August 13th, 2007

Tom Lehrer is Smug

bits and pieces: I am on the road crew. This is my sign.

000. You know, when I read the news about Karl Rove resigning and putting a down payment on a nice little bungalow in Paraguay, the only thing I could think was Gosh, if only Merv Griffin were around to see this.

001. The CNN's movie reviewies blurb on their front page this morning called Stardust a "Shrek for grownups." Before reading the review I couldn't tell if they were praising or condemning the film, so I didn't continue reading. I like to keep some things in a quantum state of existence and non-existence. Gives a fellow a feeling of control over some minute part of the universe.

010. I was showing off Psychonauts last night to one who enjoys IF muchly (and who doesn't deserve a chance to become a Tim Schafer fan?) and started it from the beginning. I forgot how much fun it is to just wander around the summer camp at the start, listening to the different conversations and such. The dialog alone is worth wasting time for, even if you've got Game Objectives to complete and such. And when that happens -- when the objectives take a back seat to just exploring and taking in the environment every now and then, well, you've got yourself a darn good game there. But now I have to keep playing now so I can show off the Milkman Conspiracy level.

011. Huh. Just noticed the "Avenue Q" logo for the national tour doesn't have the "Q" in the orange circle a la the NYC subway (routes are marked with easy-to-read letters in brightly colored circles.) Additionally, the orange circle isn't fuzzy either (here's the logo as we see it in other lands, just for comparison.) While the original logo was definitely created to take advantage of that particular New Yorkism, I'd have thought it was stylized enough to work without the context. But perhaps someone had a narrower view of the thing ("nobody will know it's supposed to look like the subway signs!") and, in doing so, created a logo that, well, limply flops along. C'mon, folks. Even the Warriors video game used the subway motif as a, well, motif.

100. Speaking of New York, I eagerly await my chance to see the Brooklyn Cyclones thrash the Hudson Valley Renegades this Friday evening. They've got the best record in the entire New York-Penn league so far (and Hudson, well, Hudson's kind of low on the stats) so hurrah for the red, blue and white! I regret I will not be in attendance for Medieval Times night the week after ("there were no ground rule doubles in medieval times; there are no ground rule doubles at Medieval Times. That's a home run.") But that's all right, as I am just happy to be able to spend what looks like it'll be an absolutely beautiful day at Coney Island and then catch a ballgame at night with David and whoever else is on this minor league ballgame train. I'm also especially looking forward to taking as many pictures as I can of the fading Astroland. Even with Thor Equities' latest announcement that "o hay guys I guess you don't really want condos all up in this piece" I can't help but fear that somehow they're going to remove or water down what those of us who love Coney Island still hold dear. You can't do that to Coney Island. You can't gentrify Coney much like you can't gentrify East Somervil-- oops, too late.

101. Am still torn between grabbing sixty buck balcony seats to a Saturday matinee of Curtains and saying that's that, now I can enjoy a leisurely Saturday morning sleeping in and then toddling down to Washington Square and eating peanut butter and bacon for breakfast, or if I should just get up early, have some donuts and coffee, and hang around tkts ... I think the former is totally winning. The work bonus this quarter was nice to me, so I am splurging on my trip down by taking the Acela into town, but taking the $15 Greyhound bus back. No, there will be no more Fung Wah on this spatchel's list.

110. By the way, if you ever book a room at the Chelsea, I seriously advise against asking for the Leonard Cohen Suite. Just sayin is all.
Typewriter Guy

look! the glob can be just as coolkids as the Metro!

The Glob, in its never-ending battle to stay "hip" and "with it" and "snarky" like those "kids" at "The Dig" back before it lost its "bite", have apparently gone raiding the dumpster outside the Metro's local bureau and fished this gem out of its rejected bin (and at the Metro, that bin's always lookin' rather anemic): a list of Worst Places to Take a Date in Boston.

So d'you think the list is actually useful, or pointing out dives or somesuch? Maybe a list of restaurants which probably wouldn't be conducive to a first date? Of course not. This list is full of hilarious jokes about "the Brookline sanitation department" for the shallow people, you know, the girls who play by The Rules and the guys who swear by the Ladder Theory. Shallower'n a kiddie pool on a hot day.

At any rate, take a look at a few of their choices, with some high-larious comedy jokes which must have taken at least thirty seconds to think up. My thirty-second rejoinders are in italics.

Swimming in Boston Harbor
Swimming with the enchanting smell of raw sewage. Yummy.
(Hello and welcome to 1987, I'll be your LOL BOSTON HARBOR IS POULUTED LOL joke, only without the LOLs because they haven't been invented yet.)

Anything involving a trip to your mother's house
Even if she thought you had game before, she definitely won't now...
(I just want to know why one's mother would think one has "game". Oh, I see, this list is aimed at The Guys. And hey, what if your mother lives in, say, Poughkeepsie? That ain't a Place In Boston To Take A Date. I think this one was just thrown in for the easy joke, just like the other 9.)

Anything involving a D-line bus
No explanation necessary.
(Um, yes, it is? I guess I should be grateful you didn't go for the tried-n-true "Nuff said.")

The Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast
Effectively combines two dating faux pas: never take a first date to any form of hotel and try your very best to shy away from the freaky. This double-whammy don't is sure to send your date running for the hills.
(Are you freakin KIDDING?! I know LOADS of people who would jump at the chance to stay in the room where Mrs. Borden died. Oh, you mean first date? What the hell are you doing taking a first date all the way down to Fall River in the first place, then? Go back to the South End, kiddies, and rest safely in the sanctity of your hip drinking establishments and garbanzotinis.)

They may have one or two points: maybe a "Downtown Crossing sausage cart" isn't a romantic eating experience, but if you say "Hey, meet me there" you've at least got a place to start and a direction -- any -- to go.

Nice try, Glob, but let's just stick to pretending the Sidekick is still hip.