2009: The Reeee'MMIX'!!!!

Many of you know I observe the Mayan calendar (falling out with Caesar - don't ask!), so tonight doesn't have the same significance for me as for most of you. It's just regular old 12.19.15.17.7.7 Manik' 10 K'anki'n G5. Sorry, I guess I'm old-fashioned. But, as I live in a romanphilic society, I try to appease my fellow citizens by honoring their adorable customs. And if you guys say tonight's "New Year's Eve", well then by all means, let's celebrate your charming if antiquated holiday! Man you're cute.

Here's the problem. All too often, partying can go from "whooo!" to "waaah!" in a heartbeat. For instance, you could turn your head for an instant at the bar, maybe to sneeze or vomit just a little, and BAM!, Rohypnol all up in your Korbel. Or maybe you have a friend named Bubbles who's been kickin' back rum and Cokes since 9:00, and now he's offering people rides home. Do you think he should drive? I don't. First of all, who's named 'Bubbles'? Sounds like a nickname and I don't want to know how he got it. Secondly, he's five foot nothin', a hundred and nothin', and he hung in with the best college football team in the land - sorry, I broke into the famed Rudy soliloquy. It's a good one.

Point is, let's keep it safe out there. You know the priorities.

1. Safety
2. Fun
3. Regret

Even though we won't be around after 12/21/12, that doesn't mean we shouldn't party like it's 1999. But let's party like it's a casual Friday night in 1999, in like, I don't know, say April.

Yo Where My Peepers At?

So I lost my glasses.

I realize it's not exactly Amelia Earhartesque, but g-d it, this is the biggest mystery I've personally encountered since I undiscovered my prized He-Man figurine as a 10-year old during a housing move. That case went cold. I fear the same for my specs.

According to Me, a quarterly journal I don't produce, here are the top 7 whodunits since I coined the term in '85:

1. Is it possible someone else shot JFK? Someone better?
   
2. WTF is my He-Man?!
3. Amelia Earhart. She said she'd be back: why would she lie?
4. How do they "colorize" old black-and-white movies? But like, how?
5. WTF are my glasses?!
6. They don't go frame-by-frame and like, "color" in the whole movie - do they? I guess my point is I don't get it.
7. Space.

They were merely two months old. I nicknamed them "Ol' Lensy". Boy were they a pair to behold. Thick-rimmed, stems that went on forever, and those lenses - oh! those lenses. There was this game we used to play: I'd set them, ever so carefully, right on the bridge of my nose, and they'd try to block my view. But you know what? They never did.

Now, a lot of my assailants out there claim "oh, John," you know, "you just wore those because they, by an order of magnitude, heightened your attractiveness. It was as though Yahweh himself forged them of polycarbonate and bestowed them unto you as he did Moses the Ten to Twenty Commandments - such was the degree to which they divinely complemented your face. I don't want to say they 'defined you', because you have other positive attributes, like your skill at baseball and math, but you certainly assumed something of a new identity when they graced your visage." Harsh.

Attack me all you like, but here's the straight scoop. Most people hope that prescription glasses unlock for them what opticians consider ideal: twenty-twenty. Here's where my tale takes a sharp left turn. Just as there is a Holy Grail of energy (inifinitely abundant and clean), or of 80s sitcoms (Growing Pains), so too is there one of vision, and with my Polo Ralph Lauren RL-6017s, I reached it: twenty-zero. This means I could see things from twenty feet away that people with normal vision could only see from zero feet away - inside their heads. That's right: I could read minds. I'm pretty sure.

You pickin' up what I'm puttin' down?

Maybe now you understand the value I assign to these "glasses". It's way more than their retail value of $214.99 at For Eyes in Maple Shade, minus the $100 my insurance company covered. It's like, at least double.

So do I have suspicions as to their whereabouts? Frick yes. I probably left them at PJs. EPH!

Straights

Let's face it - straights have been an asset to American humanity since 1776. Scientifically classified as "straights", straights are the most common form of person known to man. Why is it, then, that the drive-by media seems to act as if they don't even exist? Let's explore the world of the straight, get inside their straight heads, and try to understand what's wrong with them - or maybe, just maybe, pause for effect, what's wrong with us.

"Mary, do you want to go out on a date with me?" This is one of the most common phrases you'll hear from a straight. Oh - our main character's name is Jeff. That part's important. Mary might respond, "no thanks, I'm already going to go out on a date with Tommy". You see, Mary and Jeff are straights. Unbeknownst to Mary, Tommy's not. That's right - nearly two in three people are straights. And yet, today's society - what with the economy and all - disregards straights, even disparages them.

"Straighty," they say. "Hey, straightster," a gay bully might announce. "This party is straight, let's get out of here," a toughnik might declare, derisively. You hear it every day. You can't help it. It's gotten to the point straights are often driven underground. You'd be hard-pressed to recall someone, upon introduction, saying "hi Andy, nice to meet you, I'm Paul, and I'm straight." Why? Is Paul embarrassed? Is he scared? Is he not sure of his straightitude? It's the first two - embarrassed and scared. Paul's sure he's straight, because he dated Becky Milledge junior year, plus he played midfielder for his high school's lacrosse team. So, you know, it's not really even a question.

Our society is ill. The patient? Society. The symptoms? I really already covered all that above. It was basically the point of the essay. The diagnosis? Too many symptoms - bad ones. Insurance? Lapsed. But most importantly, what's the cure? Is it tolerance? No - that's too easy. Double-eye patches? You wish. Systematic elimination of all straights? Get real, that would take forever. No, the real answer - the only answer we have - is tolerance.

In recent years, straights have been banding together, aggregating their power in numbers, and standing up for their rights. The formation of alliances like One Hundred Percent Straight, International Heteros, and the Totally, Definitely Straight Club For Just Cool Dudes is really only the beginning. Recently in Oakland, a group of straight-rights activists held a "straight-out", calling in "straight" for work for an entire week. A scheduling mix-up landed it on the same week as the International Lesbian and Gay Association "gay-out", crippling the city, but the effect was felt. The emergency services resumed the following Monday. The zoo, however, closed permanently, as its "backup animals" policy had not yet been implemented.

The fact of the matter is that straights are here to stay. And like the OHPS motto says, "if you're not straight, you're gay". Sometimes, words speak louder than actions. Usually it's the other way around, but in this case, it's not.

Is 'Blog' a Four-Letter Word? Like Shit It Is.

blogs===
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
>*shark<

Yup. No way to mistake that. Blogs have jumped the shark. With rapidity, too. Check out those speed lines...

I know it's going to ruin some days, but I'm not here to make friends. So here's the simple truth: blogging's over. It was cute for awhile - 'blogging'. Fun to say, right? 'Blog'. How mother freaking quaint.

Listen. Most internet industry experts credit me with starting the blogging phenomenon or 'bloggenomenon' as people never say. Terrific. Am I proud? Well, yes and no. Do I approve of the cathartic outlet millions of people were desperately seeking and the resulting enhancement of mental welfare? Sure I do. In that regard, I'm sort of a modern day Hippocrates. But of the word 'blog'? Crap no. I never intended for that word to reach the public at large. I wrote it once, by accident. But from that moment on - viral. It couldn't be stopped. The word 'blog' was Merriam-Webster's Word of the Year in 2004. Consider that - I didn't found the pasttime of blogging until three weeks ago, and it was the most impactful term in 2004. Either my facts are substantially off, or shutup.

So what to call it, then? I'm open to suggestions. What about 'weblog'? Or 'blog 2'? What would you say to calling it 'blog', but with a soft 'g', as in 'gentle'? Think about it - we don't have to decide this right now.

Did you know that the most common first word of North American infants is now 'blog'? For sixty-five hundred years - the entirety of the universe - babies' first word was 'mom' or 'dad' or in the rare cases of mutes, ' '. But now it's 'blog'? People - this is a sickness. Nothing short of our children's verbal coming-out party is at stake. Not my children of course, as my wife Sandra is barren, in spite of fertility drug after fertility drug - you know what, not the point.

For the time being, let's just table the term. With today's linking technology, that I invented, one needs not refer to websites at all. We can simply click on a placeholder title. For instance:

puppies in a large, industrial-sized blender

Did I actually link you to a page showing puppies in a blender? Oh, cheese and crackers, people - of course not! That was merely President George W. Bush's personal web page, which we'd all agree is several percentage points less offensive than puppies in a blender. Several.

In the same way, we can omit the word 'blog' and just click on mal-labeled expressions. There's no way that can backfire.

Philly Airport Teases Upcoming Service Called "Ground Transportion"

While the official press release is expected in the next few weeks, it appears the Philadelphia International Airport's public relations team has begun teasing a new, previously unheard-of service they're calling "Ground Transportion".

Signs are appearing in the still-under renovation 'D' Terminal featuring the upcoming mystery-service. Exactly what the service is comprised of is yet to be determined. And the airport's marketing department are keeping it under wraps. Calls to their press relations hotline went unmade.

Industry veterans and curious passers-by alike have been wildly speculating about just what "ground transportion" might entail. "Sounds futuristic," Berwyn-resident Bart Neembly said. "Maybe like some kind of Star Trek, what's that thing called?"

"A teleport booth thingy," his wife, Tina Neembly, responded.

While a teleport booth thingy would surely grab the public's attention, others insisted a subterranean mag-lev train was in the works.

"A few major airports have experimented with underground mobility systems - Kennedy International has had subway routes since the '60s," said Dr. Kenneth Ho, professor of Aviation Logistics at University of Phoenix, North America's largest private university. "It wouldn't be unusual for Philadelphia to follow that trend, but updated with modern-day bullet train tech. The terminology is a bit unexpected; it's likely a trademarked brand they'll be pushing."

An internet search for "ground transportion" at the official U.S. Patent & Trademark Office website produced no results.

The decision to reveal such a potentially large-scale - even revolutionary - system of traveler conveyance with only a few wall-mounted directional plaques contributes to the confusion. According to John Carlsbad, advertising executive with Vineland, NJ-based Hey, Quit Splashing Me!, LLC., this move doesn't fit with the broader marketing strategy the airport has been pursuing.

"I actually don't understand it. It's either a major misstep on behalf of the promotions people, or it's possibly the most innovative piece of guerrilla marketing in history. I'd liken it to Jesus coming back and putting a Post-It note on a stop sign saying 'what's up yo, I'm back'."

An interesting twist involves the pictoral icons that accompany the wording on the subject sign. They appear to be a taxi and a shuttle bus - the same symbols that traditionally appear alongside the wording "Ground Transportation". It's thought that the identical icons for two distinct services are either the airport's way of throwing people off the scent before the official announcement, or possibly an error on behalf of the signmaker with whom the airport contracts.

Chris Gupp, a business traveler from Miami, expects the sign snafu to be a piece of technological lore one day. "Fifty years from now when ground transportion is the only type of motion in existence, this icon mess-up on the very first sign will be one of those interesting 'Did You Knows', probably bigger than the 'Dewey Defeats Truman' headline."

Eight-year old Dana Spindle took a more innocent approach. "I bet it's just a mess-up of the word 'transportation'." The idea that the 10th-busiest airport in the world, with its 30 million annual passengers and an excellent safety record in today's most accuracy-demanding industry, would incorrectly spell the very word that represents their sole business activity is nearly as adorable as the waves in Dana's long blonde hair.

Today, Dana will be "flying" home to Cleveland. Someday soon, if the Philadelphia International Airport crack management staff can help it, she may be "ground transporting".

Future Classic - It's a Wonderful Life

You know you've found a special movie when it's aired on network TV - with commercials - and you stay glued. I discovered one tonight.

It's a Wonderful Life premiered tonight at 8 PM on WCAU (NBC-10, Philadelphia). I missed this when it came out in theaters, and that's straight up my bad, because it should be a lock for Best Picture. Shot in arthouse black-and-white, this period piece follows the life and times of George Bailey, portrayed by newcomer James Stewart. Oh, and get used to hearing that name - this raw talent exudes superstardom. Fresh meat, too - IMDB doesn't even have an entry, aside from a throwaway namesake born exactly a century ago. Part-James Franco, part-Ed Norton, expect to see TMZ-bait Stewart elsewhere.

The movie serves as a scathing send-up of modern-day Wall Street's woes, but cast in small-town 1946 and told from the perspective of a do-good who fights demons inside and out. Corporate greed takes the form of Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore), a powerful but despicable slumlord who takes over the Bailey Building & Loan Association and undoes the altruistic spirit the Bailey family spent generations imbuing. Meanwhile, George initially struggles with a conflict between his personal ambitions and his familial obligations. His turmoil is exacerbated when a large deposit is lost, threatening the welfare of the company. Depressed, he spirals downward and contemplates suicide. Sixth Senseian twists follow. Director Frank Capra is clearly of the M. Night school, to the viewer's delight.

Parables are sprinkled throughout. It's as though Capra picked up and studied the daily paper before heading to the set. Thinly-veiled references to the recent $700 billion bailout, the ascension of Obama, and even the menace of global warming rear their head. The story clearly hopes to strike a chord with 2008, and succeeds more than it fails.

But the real magic of It's a Wonderful Life is the cinematography. The authenticity is astounding to the degree you'll wonder when the footage was filmed. Accentual affectations are straight out of the 1940s. Costumery is spot-on to the subject era. The production employs remarkably effective shooting techniques: the soft focus on George's belle Mary (Donna Reed), the distorted grain overlay mimicking scratched celluloid, even ungraceful scene transitions to stay accurate to the period. My only critique is screenwriter Philip Van Doren Stern's over-the-top dialogue. Stern prescribes more than a healthy dose of generational slang, giving the movie a pulpy, campy feel. Nineteen-forties-speak proliferates: "Put up your hands! No fast moves!" shouts the police officer. "Bert! What do you know about that!" an ecstatic George offers. Cutesy, but hardly believable.

It's rather likely It's a Wonderful Life will fast fade into the canon of Hollywood. Its fate of forgettability is sadly attributable more to poor marketing than poor filmmaking. The flick was distributed by RKO Pictures, who hasn't seen a major release since 1998's Mighty Joe Young - a financial flop and critical pan. It's likely a boon for the flailing movie house, but a loss for the moviegoing public. Few eyes will befall this masterpiece. Make yours two of them, and snag this gem at your local redbox or bump it to the top of your Netflix queue.

But stop at CVS - you'll need tissues.

Some People Put Off Christmas Shopping, But Definitely Not Me, I Do Mine Right Away, It's My Friend That Shops All Last-Minutey

A close friend told me about his recent shopping experience at Target - during their closing hour on Christmas Eve! Talk about procrastination! It definitely wasn't me, mostly because I sort of have a penchant for being proactive when it comes to buying presents. It was a friend of mine, and he just told me about it. Over the phone. His was cellular, mine was a land-line. Plus, it couldn't have been me, because I've been writing this post all day. Not that I need an alibi. Actually it's funny, I have a photograph of myself holding a newspaper, and it shows the date, and I'm at the library. And the time, too, you can see the time on a clock. That probably sounds staged, but it's actually because Seth Myers from SNL was there - it was nuts. Right there at the Maple Shade Public Library. I didn't even know he was from around here. Anyway, that's why I took the picture. There's a big mirror near the checkout, that's how I'm in it. There's no way I could have Photoshopped it, either, because I'm not that good with Photoshop. I have most of the basic functions down, but I couldn't reliably produce an image like this one. I don't want to post it here, this photo that proves I couldn't have been the one doing my last-minute shopping, because of bandwidth limitations. Actually, no, I tried to post the picture, but it kept coming up with that jagged broken-link thing. Not sure what that's about. I have a ticket open with the blogspot Customer Service team about it. I can't give you the ticket number because it's in the Terms of Service when you sign up, you can't disclose open ticket numbers. I guess it's an insurance thing? For blogspot? They probably want to - no, you know what it probably is, they probably don't want pranksters calling in with falsified ticket numbers, just wasting their time. Because pranksters do that. I put a call in to my lawyer to double-check about that - I could show you on my call log. Not that you know my lawyer's number. I don't have his name saved in my phone. I could save it now, I realize, but my phone's address book's full, I have 599 contacts, the 600th would start overwriting at random, so I don't bother adding new ones. Which I think is crazy, but it's on snopes.com, that it's a legit thing. I would give you the link to it, but the blogspot link button isn't working. When they get in touch with me about the upload picture problem, I'm gonna ask about the link button not working.

Anyway, he said it was like, crazy chaotic in there, but he found some really good deals. And he also needed toothpaste and hair gel, so it wasn't totally about buying presents.