New Yorkers constantly moan and complain about the sterilization of Manhattan. But I’m here to tell you that if you want to get that walking-down-a-dark-street-might-get-mugged good ole’ days feeling again, there are still some pretty dark areas. Personally? I’ve had my fill.
Certain sections of 8th Avenue, particularly near the Port Authority bus station, are still kind of spooky and have spooky businesses lining the streets. Porn shops. Fortune tellers. Check cashing services. Lottery merchants. I recently passed this fine establishment on 8th and 38th. It’s one-stop shopping for all your rockin’ Saturday night party needs!
Liquor and chicken, baby. It doesn’t get any better than that. I wonder which came first? Did the liquor store buy a fryer or did the fried chicken shack obtain a liquor license? Either way, it sounds like a real moneymaker to me. Next time I walk by I’ll pick up a couple of thighs, a breast and a bottle of Captain Morgan. I really do love this dirty town.
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Here’s the bus driver who took us to the Orlando airport last week. He seemed like a pretty happy, normal dude. Helped us with our luggage. A regular Joe.
But his name isn’t Joe. It’s this:
Fantastic. That’s not a bus driver name. That’s a Bond villain. Or a 1970’s porn star. Or the heartbreaker in a cheap soap opera.
I try to use superlatives sparingly. If you use them too often, they lose their luster and your credibility is shot. Not everything can be the best or the brightest or the most clever.
But I’m going to go on a limb and say that The Book of Mormon, the new Broadway musical, is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m not kidding, bitches. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life.
Trey Parker and Matt Stone, the guys who write South Park, got together with Robert Lopez, who wrote the music for Avenue Q and created a modern masterpiece.
I’d be very careful as to who I’d recommended this to. It’s not for everyone. There are some extraordinarily vulgar and crude things being said and done on stage. The creators of the show are clearly not believers. The humor is all derived from actual Mormon doctrine. I had a Mormon girlfriend when I lived in Phoenix and I read The Book of Mormon to try and get inside of her head. The jokes in the show that seem the most outlandish and get the biggest laughs are actual teachings from the book! But the the magic trick is that they don’t slander Mormons or religion. It’s a celebration of blind, stupid faith.
I rarely, rarely see anything twice. If I get a night-out chit, I want to use it to see something new. But I already have tickets for another dose of this show in April. Little Miss Daisyfae will be in town on business and I’m dragging her with me. She gets her hands dirty in her local community theater, so I think she’ll have an appreciation for what happens on stage from a technical standpoint. It’ll be nice to show her what can be done with a monster budget at your disposal. And I’m fairly certain she can handle the blue material.
Take a look at the cover of the new issue of Cosmopolitan:
PLEASE tell me that the Gyno News feature blurb is placed there intentionally. Because I don’t want to believe that the editors of Cosmo are so vapid and clueless that they didn’t realize what they were doing. Am I thinking too much?
Speaking of clueless…I love the lead article—50 Ways to Seduce a Man (In a Minute or Less). Don’t make me laugh. Ladies, I will tell you how to seduce a man in two seconds. Walk up to your intended prey and in a soft voice, purr the following:
Would you like to sleep with me?
Presto! Men have a hard time putting up any resistance to a girl who is offering up her goodies. It’s biology!
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In 2010, General Electric posted a profit of $14.2 billion. The portion of that profit generated in the United States was $5.1 billion. That’s profit, folks, above operating costs. A pretty damn good year considering there’s a worldwide recession.
Guess how much General Electric paid in taxes on that $5.1 billion?
Not only did they not pay a cent in taxes, they actually claimed a $3.2 billion tax benefit.
They accomplished this through perfectly legal accounting practices. They employ an army of aggressive tax lobbyists in Washington and have a tax department that’s staffed by former officials of the Treasury Department, the I.R.S. and members of Congressional tax-writing committees.
I cannot tell you how angry I get when I read this stuff. I actively try to avoid news of this ilk because it causes me to lay in bed at night, stare at the ceiling and stew in my juices. It’s very difficult for me to un-read something.
Looking 4 big fun.
What’s your fantasy?
Do U wanna play with me?
* * *
We met many of the Princesses at a special Princess breakfast. You have to make reservations months in advance, as it sells out quickly. During your meal, Princesses decked out in full ball gowns and surprisingly bad wigs flutter from table to table. They stop at each one, sign autograph books and have their pictures taken. I try to get them to break character but they never do. They’re so committed to their roles that it’s almost a bit creepy.
For the kiddies, it’s their first celebrity encounter. It’s like if you were eating in a restaurant that served mediocre food and Robert De Niro or Madonna walked up to your table to chat for a moment. Or if President Obama asked you if you were enjoying your eggs.
It costs a lot of money to hang out with royalty. This was the most expensive breakfast I’d ever purchased. It’s an ordinary American breakfast; scrambled eggs, bacon, juice, potatoes and, for mom and dad, two cups of strong coffee. Breakfast for two adults and two daughters:
This is the mantra that is repeated over and over as you navigate through Disneyworld:
My memories began with that check.
Number of online followers:
Lady Gaga: 8,934,958
Justin Bieber: 8,295,699
Britney Spears: 7,192,143
President Obama: 7,101,148
The Unbearable Banishment: +/-
Three years and 711 posts. Telling the truth as I see it since 2008.
* * *
I am just back from Disneyworld. I enjoyed it vicariously through The Daughters, but would not choose to go there if I didn’t have kids. I *did* see a few childless adults there. To each his/her own, I suppose.
I am going to refrain from the obligatory and obvious “Americans who visit amusement parks are out of shape” post because, despite outward appearances, I am a deeply flawed and troubled individual. Judging is not my business. And besides, I saw lot of people who were jogging in the morning, as well.
I will note, just in passing, that I saw some people who were so physically broken and so obviously beyond any kind of redemption, that I wonder where they find the strength to get out of bed in the morning and face the day, much less go through the expense and hassle of getting to Disneyworld. It didn’t make me feel superior, as it might have when I was younger and less evolved. I just felt waves of sadness for them.