Living on the East Coast, I tend to forget just how conservative people have become in the middle parts of the country. I’m in the lovely Buckeye State of Ohio for the holiday and some people out here are plenty pissed. This place has gone Red State in my absence. I pulled into the local Dunkin Donuts for a badly-needed coffee infusion and ran into this charming fella:

 There’s no ambiguity about where his sentiments lie. I think the majestic bald eagle imagery is particularly effective, don’t you? He might have stolen that from Stephen Colbert. F- for originality.

On the other side of his pickup truck was this:

In case you weren’t sure who he’s referring to specifically, that bumper sticker—the one where he calls illegal aliens criminals—those are the colors of the Mexican flag. Got it? Lots of ANGER out here, folks. Lots of anger.

Only a rank amateur would dive into a Thanksgiving dinner without a proper battle plan. It takes careful preparation that begins a day or two beforehand with limiting the amount of food you eat. You have to get your guts in shape for the big event.

The execution of your strategy on the day of the meal is equally important. I prefer a two-pronged attack. The first wave of attack is always the traditional Thanksgiving food. Your plate is the battlefield.

Once you’ve won that battle and catch your breath, you’re ready for the second wave. Target: the Italian delights.

The Italian portion of the meal is prepared a few days ahead of time. There’s simply not enough time to prepare all that food in one morning. But there’s an added benefit. It’s a scientifically proven truth that if you make homemade marinara sauce, meatballs and neck bones and allow them to sit for a day or two, it actually becomes more flavorful and succulent. It’s a fact!

The danger with that strategy is that having a big bowl of meatballs sitting around the house for two days leaves them vulnerable to early attacks from other armies. You have to draw a line in the sand.

Tonight: Leftover city, bitches.

The New York Times reported that the Pope has sanctioned the use of condoms to help stop the spread of AIDS. How about that Pope! What a MODERN GUY. Don’t get him wrong; the Catlick church still condemns condoms (and all other methods of birth control) as SINFUL, but this is a tectonic shift in attitude. Just last year while en route to AIDS-plagued Africa, he said that condom use did not help prevent the spread of AIDS. Only abstinence and fidelity did. Go Pope!

Every time that guy opens his yap I pull further away. 98% of the Catholics I know are Chinese menu Catholics. That is to say, they’ll pick and choose certain dictates to follow but they won’t embrace Vatican laws and regulations as a whole. Even my dear old mother still took communion though as a twice-divorced woman it was against holy doctrine for her to do so.

I think that if every Catlick had to choose between following Vatican dogma to the letter of the law and leaving the church, there would be a stampede to the exits.

I feel kind of guilty picking on the Pope. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.

In my latest column for the UndiePress (Have you read it yet? It’s genius!) I discuss the difference between a signed book, an inscribed book and an association copy. Here’s a perfect example of a great association copy that’s going to be auctioned at Bonhams in New York on December 9th.

FLEMING, IAN. 1908-1964.

INSCRIBED TO ROBERT F. KENNEDY.
The Spy Who Loved Me. London: Jonathan Cape, [1962].

First edition, signed and inscribed by Fleming to Robert F. Kennedy on the front free endpaper. Provenance: the estate of Paul “Red” Fay [1918-2009], a close family friend of the Kennedy’s and advisor to JFK.

Estimate: $10,000 – 15,000

While I’ve been gainfully employed all year, it has been as a consultant. The hourly rate is quite generous, but when you factor in the out-of-pocket expense for medical insurance and not getting paid vacation or sick days, it’s not such a great deal. Plus, they can pull the plug on me at any moment.

Early last week, out of the clear blue heavens, within an hour of each other, I received phone calls from two separate headhunters asking if I was still looking for permanent work. Hell, yes, I am. Last Thursday I called in sick (*kak* *kak* I can’t make it in), put on my best suit and went on two interviews. Months of silence and all of a sudden, two in one day.

Here’s the view out of the conference room window of my first interview. That big green patch is Central Park. The offices are on the 57th floor of Rockefeller Center.

Both interviews could not have gone any better. Both are great companies. On Tuesday, company #1 phoned and said that all hirings have been frozen until after the first of the year. Company #2 phoned yesterday and they went with another candidate. I have a colleague who works at Company #2 and he called to say they interviewed “dozens” of people and it was between me and another guy. Cold comfort.

Two years of this shit! I’m sick of it. I’m not interested in a winning lottery ticket. I just want a solid position with benefits. It that so much?

Yesterday, I received this email from one of these stupid, useless job posting sights I registered with:

Afghanistan Jobs – Plumber, HVAC, Carpenter HOT HOT HOT!

Has it come to that?

After the first interview I had some time to kill so I walked across the street to Christie’s. They were in the middle of an auction; Post War and Contemporary Art (morning session). If you ever get a chance to attend one of these I highly recommend it. They’re open to the public and very exciting!

While I was standing there with my resumes, polished dress shoes, portfolio, hopeful intent and mournful look on my face, I watched someone pay $675,000 (est. $300,000 – $500,000) for one of Albers’ Homage to the Square and $480,000 (est. $150,000 – $200,000) for Warhol’s Campbell’s Tomato Juice Box which is, unbelievably, shockingly, a goddamn cardboard box that once held cans of tomato juice. I could support my family for years on $480,000. What happens when you acquire great wealth? Do you take leave of your senses or become mentally incapacitated?

I just got angry all over again while typing this out.

Here’s my column for the November issue of the UndiePress. This time, my book-collecting brush with celebrity. Forget what I’ve written in the past. This is, without a doubt, my BEST. COLUMN. EVER.

I know I’ve insinuated that before but I really mean it this time.

Greece Beats Ireland for Worst Deficit in Europe

You go, Greece! You’re #1! I’m no economist, but perhaps tax-dodging shouldn’t be part of your national culture. I’m just saying.

I had occasion to walk through Rockefeller Center last week. I was there for an interview. The center is filled with a series of beautiful murals that were commissioned by the Rockefellers in the ’30s during construction. The most notorious was a work done by Diego Rivera. In the sketches he submitted for approval, Rivera forgot to mention that he was going to include scenes from the Communist May Day celebrations and a portrait of Lenin. A small detail. When Nelson Rockefeller discovered what he did, the work was promptly covered up.

My favorite murals are not in the main building, 30 Rock, (although those are pretty great and worth checking out). One block south at 48th and Rockefeller Plaza are murals that are so sexually charged that I can’t believe they weren’t covered over along with old Lenin.

(I’ve loaded these pics larger than normal so you can click on them and give them a good look if you’re interested.)

This mural is on the south wall. I don’t know what the hell it this. Progress? It’s a small touch but I like how the movement of the plane propellers are depicted as thin circles (as on the next mural, as well).

What’s really kind of wonderfully bizarre is how these women’s bodies are depicted. The breasts are clearly very bad implants. They’re also too angled and toned. Even their faces are tight.

This mural is on the west wall. It depicts the history of transportation. I think. Again, I’m not even sure.

I can’t get past the reclining woman in the upper right corner. Clearly, she is in the throws of ecstasy. And so submissive! Fantastic.