I was shocked to see signs that the Murdoch-ian Empire is starting to crumble. In addition to Fox news viewership declines, other branches of his agit-prop machine are hurting:
Murdoch did not provide many details on the company’s cost cutting, but said one example was the merging of back-office operations of his two high-profile New York holdings, The Wall Street Journal and tabloid daily the New York Post.
He also plans to close 10 of the 17 U.S. printing plants that produce the Journal.
I can only imagine the mix of stuffy WSJ folk mixing with the Post’s motley crew of degenerates…
In other interesting tidbits - I just wrapped up the Laurel Films demo reel:
in addition - The Director called and left me a voice mail - we might have a very interesting project in January…
Since my local supermaket shut down and opened a mega center about 3 miles away, buying a lot of groceries less often; with the assistance of the fiancee’s wheels; makes the most sense.
This is the first time in my adult life that I have ever filled up an entire grocery cart.
I’ve always been the ’single guy with the hand basket’ type - buying for a day or two. Now that I have to plan ahead (and that my sweetie loves my cooking) buying in bulk is the new shopping style it appears…
This is the first time in my life I’ve ever gotten sticker shock from grocery shopping too…
We returned from a long day at the mall, doing the registering for The Registry thang, (Macy’s - in case you need to send us a gift, large screen TV’s are the fave at the moment) and as I started boiling some water for some pasta, darling wife to be lets out a delighted yell of excitement.
I inquire as to what is so exciting and she points to an email onscreen:
We would like to make you our featured blog of the week! We love your blog and hope you continue to post and share your experiences with your fellow members of The Knot.
The new featured blog of the week is posted on Fridays on the “Talk” page. Congratulations and enjoy your planning!
Wow - I am impressed. Especially since a few of those posts, I helped co-author… But still it is 90% her creativity and certainly %100 her inspiration.
Being a geek in a relative nature, I’ve read with great interest about the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) that was built at CERN. According to their press releases:
Scientists at the European Organization for Nuclear Research, better known by its French acronym, CERN, are planning to send a beam of particles racing around the 27-kilometer ring of the Large Hadron Collider for the first time.
The LHC, as it’s known, is the world’s most powerful particle accelerator. CERN physicist Tejinder Virdee says it’s designed to explore some of the most fundamental questions in physics.
Other experiments, when it start Sept. 10, will include the formation of ‘micro-black holes’. And it was experiments like that that caught my attention.
Its funny, I thought - it sounds very similar to a video game I played and have been a fan of for a long time: Half-Life.
A plot summary from IMDB:
You play Gordan Freeman, a research scientist who participate in material testing in the massive Black Mesa Research Complex. However, something goes horribly wrong in one experiment that creates an inter-dimensional rift that devastates the complex. Now you must make your way through the crippled halls of the complex as you face dangers both alien and human.
Funny, when I looked that up, I came across its release date: 1998. 10 years ago - has it really been that long? I remember being blown away by its immersion - no cut scenes, no exposition, you lived the story as you played it. I mean, it RULED. It had a PLOT (and one more than - shoot everything that moves) and the plot was intense. And it just kept getting worse. You cause a catastrophe, only to be tasked with reaching the surface to get help - battling weird monsters all the way - and when you get there, you discover the army has been called in to clean up everything, including you. And the people in the world had personalities, you actually felt a little bad when you came across a scientist, and you tried to help them escape, only to be eaten by some nameless monster a few minutes later…
So, it seemed a case of life imitating art - funny how that happens - when I discovered that I’m not the only one who feels that way: It seems that a bunch of people got together and purchased a crowbar (one of the first, and most signature weapons featured in the game, useful for bashing aliens with or tearing apart supply crates for health and ammo) and sent it to the good folks at CERN, with a note explaining its purpose and use.
Just in case.
So, come tomorrow - we could be fighting off an alien invasion. We could be up to our necks in headcrab infested zombies. Or, if that doesn’t happen; my local supermarket is closing down; forcing me to go further away for ales to drink as I get reacquainted with a very good game that I haven’t played in a long time…
Been waaay to busy looking into wedding stuff - the fiancee & I interviewed a photographer this morning. Since she is the supervisor, she is much better at the ’stony faced’ interviewing process than I. But still, it is fun to tag along and ask a bajillion questions and do that couple stuff. A full rundown as to what we’ve been up to (including some very funny entries by the Bride to be) can be found here.
Man, I really need to research more on that Honeymoon…
Anyway - she’s sleeping on the couch, so I gotta type this quietly. I saw the best Beastie Boy imitation ever - ‘The Awkward Rap’ watch it if you need a Beastie fix, or a good laugh.
Also: I’m SO CLOSE to finishing my last commission - I just gotta hammer out some details and make a few people in it look less scary. I cannot wait to post it.
The greatest joy there is is when something you create with your own hands is given as a gift.
Sara, a longtime friend and fan of my work, got married last year - and as a wedding present, I gave her a painting that she had always liked. She was so taken with it that she had it framed and proudly displayed in her home, prompting an email (with photos) saying how everyone really likes it, from guests to the mailman - even the guy who had framed it.
So it was a real pleasure when I got a phone call from her new husband, earlier in the year, asking if I could be commissioned for a piece for their One Year Anniversary. And since tradition dictated that first anniversaries gift is paper - a watercolor painting would fit the bill.
The toughest part was figuring out what to paint. Since this was a sign of her life as it is, and of the coming years, I wanted something to tie in with her past - and since we met when I was living with her brother - it seemed fitting that I paint a landmark that she would identify with and have a connection to. Obviously, some tourist spot or historical landmark was out of the question. What could I do in my style? After much deliberation - it hit me. During her visits - where was the one place we’d always end up? Where would we get supplies when the gang went out on the town? Where would we go after the night out for late night snacks? Our local deli.
Anyone that has lived in the city will instantly recognize the importance of the local deli and a good one will not only have coffee and the paper, but bandaids, phonecards, candles to put on birthday cakes and WD40. Stuff people need. Ran by people with the barest grasp of the English language, but still greet you with a smile because in their hearts they know: you buying their overpriced stuff is paying for their kids education.
So it was a real delight when I got this missive in my mailbox:
I just received my anniversary painting and I am blown away!
You couldn’t have chosen a more fitting subject, I LOVE IT!!!!
they always did have the best chicken parms at 4 in the morning!
And now I can breathe a sigh of relief - because I also had 2 or 3 other paintings that I had in reserve (in case this one was a bust) that I couldn’t post, in fear that she’d see them. Look for these in the coming days…
I’ve been watching the story about Bruce Ivins with great interest. The fact that he committed suicide and then the authorities have pretty much indicted him has kept my attention lately. For more than one reason, it had my attention and I found myself checking for updates more and more often than I usually do - my disdain for the media put in check by my unerring need to see how this story panned out.
Let’s say that I have more than a ‘passing curiosity’ about it.
I was there when it happened.
If you look back in the articles I’ve posted over the years here, you’ll see that I’ve made mention of the ‘Major Metropolitan Newspaper’ that I used to work for. It was the New York Post - I usually avoided calling it by name, partly to avoid grousing about a former employer (because, hey - you never know) and because I did like the cache’ that came with it; the way people’s eyes would light up when they asked where I worked - I got many a free drink because of it, and I made more than a few friends because of the discussions it generated.
There was something about being in the middle of a newsroom, of having people shouting out what was happening all over the globe at that exact moment, monitors blaring newscasts 24/7, copy-editors composing witty headlines to sum it all up… We were still reeling from 9/11; nightly jaunts to Langan’s to dull the overload from so many hours of non-stop chaos, seeing our co-workers and comrades come back from being buried in rubble, the sirens, the endless waiting for the next shoe to drop. Between the work, the stress, the lack of sleep and the booze - nerves were stretched taut.
And then the Anthrax Attacks began.
At first it was just another ‘what now??!!’ moment; another ball of angst and shite to throw on the compost heap. It was a far-away thing, down in Florida, on the radar, just another sign of how the world was crumbling - a bit here; a bit there. But it was still far away. We had our drama to deal with and if some publisher in the deep south got hit with a whack-job mailing poison to his op-ed column then it got promptly filed under “Not My Problem.”
Until we got it.
There was a huge flurry of activity and a lot of cops floating around the office that day. I thought that Dunleavey had gotten into another fight and some pissed off copykid was pressing charges. I had asked my buddy Delmo what had happened. He told me that Op-ed was shut down because Johanna had opened an envelope with white powder in it. Not Johanna, the poor girl who ripped a tendon in her leg dancing at the Christmas Party; not Johanna who I went to the Steely Dan concert with and used her injury to get us front row seats while I assumed the identity of the head features editor… She was out. Taking Cipro. It was being passed around like a bowl of candy. People were afraid. The FBI was there and asking questions. People were assuming it was Bin Laden. No one wanted to touch anything, to eat in the office. Weirdly though, the smoking room was packed with people who touched all sorts of things and then brought their hands close to their mouths and noses… We were the walking infected. Op-ed was walled off in plastic, like the quarantine setup they used in E.T. People came down with all sorts of mysterious maladies. I had walked off the job when the guys in the moon-suits came in to spray the whole place down and they didn’t tell me it was happening, as in - right next door. If they didn’t blow stray anthrax spores on me, I’m sure the toxic chemicals would have been a blast to inhale. So I walked off the job and got drunk. Pissed that we couldn’t do anything to get back at the bastards who did this.
We did strike back. Medications were given, and we didn’t lose anyone. We mourned those who had fallen to this new disaster. Hadn’t we suffered enough? We struck back with words - those who had caught this virulent disease and live to tell had written impassioned responses - telling how they would not be cowed. That in this dark hour, we would not be defeated.
And we did it in NY Post style.
Like I said; I’ve been watching this story with great interest. As soon as it started creeping back into the headlines, it brought me back to where I was at that time. Living in a money pit loft that I had absorbed from a heroin junkie who fled the state. Living with bunch of money sucking roommates that seemed intent on destroying said loft with all abandon. Dealing with being abysmally single in a city doomed to be a crater in the near future. My nightly forays to the pub taking a toll on my wallet and waistline. I made a few enemies in those days, I pray for forgiveness as much as I pray for the strength to forgive. And when people I worked with, friends and comrades, had died, mercifully from things other than terrorism - I found that I could no longer bear working there. I had left - probably prematurely, and ended up doing one of those weird lateral moves that seems to take a lot of energy and make no sense in the long run…
But, hey - I ended up here: In the Midwest. I’ve got a job and a girl who loves me enough to make it permanent. And all told - things could have turned out a lot worse. I just look back on the person I was and wonder how I managed to keep it all together, to not sink or fall, to somehow keep pushing forward - no matter what was thrown in my path…
Ladies and Gents - it has now been ONE FULL YEAR since I gave up smoking.
Not one cig, drag, dip or chaw.
Mind you, I see no immediate running of marathons and I do miss the beer & cigarette, or coffee & cigarette or lighting up after a good meal.
I do not miss the smell on the clothes and I do feel like my olfactory senses have rebounded. And I certainly do not miss the disgusted looks the former girlfriend / current fiancee would give me for flicking lit butts into the street. And I will admit that I do thank Mayor Bloomberg for the free patches that got me to quit - without them I probably would have strangled the majority of the tri-state area.
I am thankful for the money I’ve saved - it truly was being wasted. Especially when I would chainsmoke at the pub (and greatly contributing to my hangover) and I am profoundly grateful for the adoration that fiancee heaps upon me for having quit. When she squeezes my bicep (cause I’ve been exercising to boot!) and she squals with delight - well, hell - who wouldn’t quit??
