Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Back in March 2003, I created my first pinata. This was during the build up to the Iraq invasion, when talk of "weapons of mass destruction" was everywhere. I made it as a gift for Kelley's mother and step-father, Judy and Jack.
While I never thought W would get reelected, I certainly didn't think the pinata would outlast his presidency. But it did, by a matter of hours. Judy and Jack took the pinata to an Inauguration party where it would serve as the evening's finale.
He put up a good fight, but eventually the pinata was busted. It turned out that the pinata was authentic in a number of respects. It was a bit too thick, making it oblivious to numerous attacks.
The pinata, just like W, was filled with great joy for oppressed people of the world. In this case, the joy took the form Airheads, rather than democracy. The oppressed were the candy-deprived children of coastal Oregon.
After the pinata was broken and everyone enjoyed their candy, the work of cleaning up the mess that was left behind began in earnest.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Sometimes life in New York is odd. You're always seeing strangeness and incongruities. Like when a fellow subway rider is toting a chainsaw.
However, at other times life here is really awesome. Today, some coworkers and I picked up lunch from the Urban Lobster Shack on Stone Street. This place just opened up, so they were trying to get some attention by bringing out a man-sized lobster!
Mr. Lobster Shack struck a humble and almost embarrassed pose for me.
There's something about a person dressed up in this sort of costume that always brightens my day. Unless it's a Disney character. Those costumes fill me with rage.
Mr. Lobster Shack was so friendly to me. It was a very cold and windy afternoon. I asked him if he's warm enough. He said yes, and even let me touch his outfit to ease my worry that he was freezing.
I didn't like that he took his head off for me. It spoiled some of the magical fun. But he was smiling so big and seeming to have a good time - and he was definitely old enough to disgruntled and humiliated by the experience - that I forgive him.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
I recently bought the graphic novel Y: The Last Man. It's the story of the world after all the men are killed by a mysterious plague. All the men, that is, except one.
The story is told in 60 issues that were released between 2002 and 2008. I bought the collection, which consists of set of 10 paperbacks, from Amazon a week ago.
The night I received the order, I was reading the first issue on the subway. A fellow passenger saw me reading it and said it was a really good series. It was nice, for once, to have a civilized interaction with a stranger in New York.
Today I was reading the totaling the last volume. It has 166 pages. I get to page 120, and as I go to read page 121, I discover that it's not there! The book goes from page 120 to page 97. I flipped ahead and realize that pages 121-144 are missing, replaced with a duplication of pages 97-120.
Let me put this into perspective. I had read 1,419 out of 1,465 pages. Granted, it's a comic book, but still. I had read 97% of the story. The last 3% - where the story finally gets resolved - I can't read because half of that 3% is missing!