Belt It, Bush, You Simian Singer, You

Bush Sings! Sunday Bloody Sunday

#1 in a series of presidential rock covers. Next...Reagan sings "We Didn't Start The Fire"

Tree Fish Lizards, and Other Cronenbergesque Monstrosities

Thanks to BoingBoing and The Pink Tentacle for alerting me about this mysterious Japanese museum filled with creatures that don't exist. It reminds me of ExisTenZ (or however that film is pronounced), minus Jennifer Jason Leigh getting her back-hole lubed and penetrated by Jude Law.
Click the headline above for the link, translated into English for your enjoyment.

I just realized...

June's postings consisted of nothing but videos. And two videos, at that.
A text-free June...what does that mean?
I was pretty busy moving in with my girlfriend. Now I reside on the Upper West Side, miles from the Murray Hill wasteland I once called home. I'm also further from Chinatown and the East Village, which I'm sad about. But I'm closer to Harlem, which is great.

And the Museum of Natural History is not far away.
Now I need to unpack. Everything.

Good News: I'm one of the Top 6 Scott Steins

I guess that's about all I can hope for in a world of 6 billion-plus that's becoming ever more connected. On Google, my main opponents: a porn journalist, a writer teaching at Drexel, a lawyer at the Department of Justice, a folk musician, and a dead football player from the Midwest.

The passing away of Scott Stein the football player was shocking and unexpected to his teammates, and I sympathize for the community and the family. He sounds like he was a legend.

The DOJ Scott Stein is nearly invisible, but I know he's probably my greatest danger.

I've downloaded folk songwriter Scott Stein's MP3s...not bad. A little like James Taylor without editing.

Porn Scott? Hey man, you live the life. Don't burn out.

I've emailed the other writer-Scott. That was an odd experience. I think we both want to be #1. Who doesn't? Pablo Picasso would have been pissed off getting letters from another painter named Pablo Picasso.

Scott Steins, I salute thee.

Rrrrobbed by two men!

I was robbed by two men!

Now that I've discovered video blogging, I may never go back to text again. Enjoy the aerobics, and the horror.

Dog Love...

Dog vomit

This is charming.

Today's Musing: Odors

Rooms develop smells after a while. They say that's because small particles come off of us and infuse a space with mini-pieces of our bodies. Like a self-atomizer. Is that true, or is it simply that fumes, compounds, etc, that emit from an item, start to react with the outside air and produce a smell? I guess, though, that means that that smell comes from smaller pieces of something else.

Why does it seem that any discussion of smell turns us into 12th-century alchemists discussing body discomfort as being the cause of very small dwarves or dragons?

I want better, more focused smell reseearch. Because I just don't get it. My nasal passages are filled with hairs, snot and blood, and I just don't see where these amazing complicated sensors are.

Smell comes from dragons. Evil dragons.

It's Been A While...

So here's random pic to keep you satisfied.

These people look scarily alike, and no one else has mentioned it but me

Fred Armisen


Ben Brantley


F Murray Abraham

By the way, these shirts are awesome

Available at: http://www.chunk.uk.com/trolleyed/174/index.htm
Courtesy of my favorite blog, boingboing.net

Back In LA

Feel like I'm in a slight daze. Preparing my pre-E3 stuff, and I wake up on a couch overlooking the 5. Back in a world where freeways are labeled "The (insert number here)".

I had a dream that I was taking a long standardized test while on vacation at someone's wedding on a Hawaii-like island. The headmaster was taunting me. I woke up, and strangely enough, I had an urge to fall back into the dream to complete the test.

E3, Here I Come

I sit in JFK Airport as I write this, Dunkin' Donuts iced coffee in hand, laptop at the ready. My Burbank flight on JetBlue awaits. Ahead of me is a solid week in Los Angeles, covering video games for Maxim. Along the way I'll attend Nintendo, Microsoft and Sony press conferences, rock out at some parties, possibly receive a free phone, have dinner with Dolby, and listen to Will Wright wax poetic on his upcoming wacko-cool game, Spore.

I'll also be interviewing Shigeru Miyamoto and Hideo Kojima, creator-gods of Super Mario/Zelda/All Things Nintendo and Metal Gear Solid, respectively.

Didn't bring my PSP, as Sony recommended, but my DS sure as heck is here. Sorry, Sony...Nintendo's games are just much more fun right now. Kirby Canvas Curse is the best game I never played last year.

By the way...car rental in Los Angeles is so much insanely less expensive than New York. $150 for a week, as opposed to nearly $100 a day.

Imaginary dwarves?

From http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12608034/:

A man got fired even though his IMAGINARY TRIO OF MYSTIC DWARVES didn't tell him.

This only proves one thing. Dwarves are BULLSHIT, man.

Soft, cake-like toilet paper

I just borrowed (or, if you will, took) a roll of toilet paper from my family's house in Long Island, and carried it back to my toilet-paper-deprived apartment in Manhattan, because I was too lazy to just buy more at Duane Reed.

But when I used it, I was disturbed by its cake-like, puffy softness.

I had gotten used to more whispery-thin, crackly-crisp paper...the kind that has 1000 sheets per roll, but none of that nonsense quilting going on. I had gotten into this as a way of saving money, avoiding paying too much for my toilet experience. But now, I realized as I was using what felt like a slice of angel food cake covered with a duvet, I had gotten used to the tough love. I liked it. And this felt as plush as Marie Antoinette.

I'm not sure I can ever use this cottony mush again.
Is my ass getting stronger?

This actual email arrived for me today. Subject? "HOW SWISS IS AMERICA? swissroots.org Sends Ben Roethlisberger To Switzerland"

New York, May 2, 2006 - Later this week, Pittsburgh Steelers Quarterback Ben Roethlisberger will embark on a journey of a lifetime, traveling to Switzerland to uncover his family’s ancestry in the Bernese Emmental region (the cheese capital of Switzerland). Not only is Ben making a ‘pilgrimage’ to the land of his forefathers, but he’ll also be promoting American football and officiating at a local Swiss league game. Ever since Ben became the spokesperson for swissroots, ‘Roethlisberger fever’ has hit Switzerland in a big way and the quintessential U.S. sport is suddenly generating a lot of attention.

You may think Switzerland’s greatest exports are cheese, chocolate, fine watches, Saint Bernard dogs and army knives but if you look at contemporary U.S. culture, Swiss influences are everywhere. The Swiss have left their mark on the food we eat and the people we admire, like Superbowl 2006 MVP quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, automobile pioneer Louis Chevrolet, and Adolf Rickenbacher, the inventor of the electric guitar. Actress Ren?e Zellweger, prolific film maker George Lucas, singer Jewel, chocolate maker Milton Hershey, President Herbert Hoover, museum magnate Meyer Guggenheim and singer Cyndi Lauper all have Swiss Roots.

The swissroots program, headquartered at the Consulate General of Switzerland in New York is a cultural phenomenon designed to engage people with ‘Swissaffinity’ to learn more about the country and to make contact with Swiss citizens. It also serves as a platform for an exchange between Switzerland and the U.S. in areas such as politics, economics, culture, education, research and tourism. The program’s flagship is an innovative community website - www.swissroots.org - developed in association with IgoUgo and Swissinfo.

Launched in March 2006, www.swissroots.org combines technology with icons of pop culture (like Ben Roethlisberger), cutting edge events and genealogy to create an interactive web community, bringing people in the U.S. and Switzerland together to share their interest and passion for Switzerland. Join Ben (virtually) as he gives www.swissroots.org users a daily account of his travels and experiences in Switzerland.

Different from other countries whose websites may help trace ancestry, only swissroots allows you to delve into the world of the Swiss, find out if your name or the name of the town you live in has Swiss origins, learn about exciting Swiss events taking place and how to connect with other Swissophiles. The swissroots website recognizes that it is human nature to seek out people with like minded ideas and backgrounds and even for non-Swiss, this offers the opportunity to explore Swiss culture and heritage and forge friendships. Easy access is available online to all who have a passing interest, a strong fascination or a cult obsession with all things Swiss.

There’s no neutrality when it comes to loving Switzerland. There are over one million Americans of Swiss heritage, not to mention the hundreds of thousands of Americans who live in 5,000 American cities and towns with Swiss names like Berne, Indiana and New Glarus, Wisconsin.

In 2006, swissroots is participating in and hosting events such as the current Swiss Old Timer Postal Bus road show through U.S. states with the highest concentration of Swiss immigrants (California, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin), the North American Swiss Saengerfest (June 15-18) with its yodeling competition in Toledo, Ohio, the William Tell Festival -Tell-Spiele (September 1-3) in New Glarus, Wisconsin and the Green County Cheese Days (September 15-17) in Monroe, Wisconsin. The Swiss Arts Council Pro Helvetia is presenting a cultural program in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco and other cities that highlight contemporary Switzerland and the contribution of Swiss-Americans in the fields of music, film, architecture and visual arts. This program opened with “Reprocessing Reality,” a contemporary art show at PS1, the Queens affiliate of MoMA, New York and is on display until May 29. Two major events will include "Small Numbers-Big Impact" - a Swiss immigration exhibition opening on July 29 at the Ellis Island National Monument, New York, and the display of the Swiss Federal Charter of 1291, known as the Schweizer Bundesbrief at Philadelphia's National Constitution Center as part of "The Sister Republics" exhibition opening June 10. This is the first time that this historic document will be shown outside Switzerland. For further details and updates on these events please visit www.swissroots.org/events.

“The vision of swissroots is to motivate all Americans who feel an affinity with Switzerland to connect with our country and to network with the Swiss people," said Ambassador Raymond Loretan, co-Chairman of swissroots and Consul General of Switzerland in New York. “Through the website, visitors will have the opportunity to exchange ideas with like-minded people and ideally will feel inspired to visit Switzerland.”

Share your ‘Swissaffinity’ with others and learn how the Swiss have influenced contemporary U.S. culture at www.swissroots.org.

swissroots is organized by the official Swiss representations in the U.S under the leadership of the Consulate General of Switzerland in New York and in cooperation with numerous local Swiss associations. swissroots is supported by entities such as Swiss Helvetia Fund, Swiss International Air Lines and Swiss Post and also by Switzerland-promotional agencies such as Presence Switzerland, Switzerland Tourism and Pro Helvetia. The swissroots website was developed by IgoUgo, based in New York and Swissinfo, based in Switzerland.


...you can't make this shit up.

Night Walk

I came home at night. I had seen a movie in the dark, wandering alone in the city like the bags of trash that breezed around me silently. I had iPod earbuds on. Some music was consoling me.

The movie I had seen was one about a child molester punished for his sins, and a hysterical 14-year-old child that forced him to do it. It seemed like proper viewing for someone wandering alone in New York City at night, eating scraps of fast food as he ran into the theater at 10:45 pm. The theater, at the top of the majestic stairs and worn-down carpet, was still strewn with sloppy popcorn and half-drunk, mouth-smeared bottles from the show before. The few folks in there with me didn’t bother to talk silently or turn off their phones. I nearly drank the half-empty bottle in the cup-holder next to me, out of habit.

After wincing for two hours and walking home alone to the sounds of John Williams’ soundtrack for Munich, I came across my local 24-hour newsstand. I peered into the window at the magazine I’ve worked on. And I remembered that I had written a short piece recently. So I went in to look for it.

The magazine wasn’t on any regular shelf. It was stocked in the back, near the bad mags. I bought it with the last pieces of change in my pocket, and carried it home in a black plastic bag. I opened the wrapping as I walked, gingerly. I was excited, but not for the magazine’s content. I still felt a thrill at seeing my name in print, even if it might not even be there, even if it might be a pseudonym. I felt like Charlie looking for the Golden Ticket, in a mangy 42nd-street flophouse version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

As I entered my building up the street, turning the key, I let the magazine fall open to the table of contents. And I saw a familiar face. An old friend, who had written a feature in the magazine. His face was prominent, and the feature was headlined. They touted the book he had written.

The elevator doors opened onto my hallway. What had I been looking for, again? I lost track. My article, my name. A 100-word piece of sales copy, a bubblegum wrapper. And meanwhile an acquaintance younger than me had written a feature. And he probably didn’t consider it anything particularly special.

I entered my tiny apartment, stacked with dirty clothes and piles of magazines I had written little piece for, little bits here, little bits there. I sat down on my bed. I took off my shoes. I looked around. I felt small.

I feel small. And I make this promise to myself, to finally rise up. To become that writer. To wipe that embarrassing feeling off the back of my neck. It’s a low feeling, a scavenger feeling. Maybe I need to delve into that feeling, in order to understand what I need to write about, and where I need to go.

I write this as a reminder of that feeling. I post it so that I’ll see it. I guess, so will you.

BlogComment: On some blog that mentioned handjobs in a derogatory way

I just read a blog that mentioned getting handjobs and basically criticized them. My response: I'm baffled. Shame on you, idiot blogger. Actually, it's probably just a direct tell to the blogger's sexual predeliction. I guess some people don't like the idea of the hand down there, or feel it's silly. But doesn't the innocence turn you on? And isn't it a great, basic way to get off?

What the hell's wrong with this world?

I also noticed this blogger liked the Giants and the Yankees, so fuck them.

In case you're curious or ignorant, I'm a Jets fan. Hard core. As in, my dad's been a season-ticket holder for 40 years. So don't talk to me about the Giants and Yankees. They've been to more big games combined than I wish to count, while the New York Cinderella Jets always sit at home.

Bring on the handjobs. At least they make us smile.

And no, I'm not mentioning the blog. I'd rather not give them click-throughs.

This amuses me.

I'm famous!

A picture of me in an astronaut suit is now hanging at one of the best and most famous dive bars in NYC.

Last night, at Jimmy's Corner (a bar near Times Square...44th between 6th and 7th), I stopped by to check it out. I was informed of it by some Maxim editors who spotted it there one evening.

So, stop by and pay tribute. It's hung between pictures of famous boxers. I don't deserve this honor...but I feel more like a New Yorker than I've ever been.

As to why I was in an astronaut suit? The photo was shot by photo-genius Sam Bassett, as part of a feature in Maxim where I wore an astronaut suit around New York. We shot one photo at Jimmy's, and they insisted on hanging it up.

As to why Maxim had me in astronaut suit in their magazine? I can't explain everything.

Easter Repose

I'm in Long Island today, after filling myself on leg of lamb and asparagus, broccoli and good wine. I got my hair shorn short by old trusty barber Nino in Smithtown, while my girlfriend Joanna had an affordable manicure next door.

Games recently played or playing: Kingdom Hearts II, Mario and Luigi: Partners in Time, Brain Age, Ghost Recon: Advanced Warfighter, Far Cry Instincts: Predator, and Syphon Filter: Dark Mirror.

Media news update: I'm restarting a weekly spot on Maxim Radio, on Sirius: catch me at 4:00 on Mondays, EST, talking about videogames. (This Monday is an exception, so focus on submitting those taxes instead.)

Coming soon: a tour of maltings and cooperages in Scotland as part of a single-malt whiskey tour. News on that will most certainly be forthcoming.

And, I'm launching a new blog: The Wandering Chew (wanderingchew.blogspot.com). It's a review of food places and eating out adventures. I know, you're thinking..."Scott, you haven't updated this blog in over a month. What the fuck are you doing creating another one?" Well, I like variety. And hopefully so will you.

May your Paschal repose be full of eggs.

Week End

I head out to Boston on Monday to discuss a possible novel idea with an unusual and interesting individual.
Meanwhile, a bunch of videogames arrived for me to peruse: Black, Fight Night Round 3, and among others, Age of Empires for Nintendo DS. I look forward to boxing, shooting, and kinging.

Last night, a birthday card I was writing for my sister disappeared off my kitchen table: suddenly, unexpectedly, completely. I never found it again. It was there when I left the table to let my sister in the door, but gone when I checked. Apartment gremlins? Vengeful mice? Quantum shift in the table structure that let the card pass through into the plyboard, forever to be trapped?

I still feel unsettled about it. The sudden disappearance of things is the most brain-eroding torture one can suffer.

Time to be Honest

Blogs scare me.
They scare me because, unlike the old days of new media, blogs are being read by everybody. Because they publish so quickly. Because they take your thoughts and broadcast them. Because there are no censors. Because there's no fact-checking. Because accountability is so high, yet so mutable. I could change any statement made on here instantly. There's no permanence. There's no hard copy. There's no original.

Also, should I be honest? Because if I were truly honest, how many people would I offend? Friends, family? Businesses? Associates?

What is the line between professional and personal?

I could tell you, right now, something honest and revealing. To any of those listening. But I'd be more vulnerable than I would be under an umbrella of fiction, because fiction at least claims an innocence from the artist. This pseudo-reality we call the blogosphere, or blog kingdom, or information avalanche, is really a different sort of half-thing.

An idea occurred to me: perhaps I should have a pseudonym. Or a pseudoblog. Or, maybe I make this blog a different project: an encyclopedia of my own entries, a self-referential sort of set of observations about the known universe as I've seen it.

OK, cut the bullshit. My revealing moment:

- I once got an erection while riding a donkey.

Now, is that true or false?

In Seattle...

Thirty minutes away there is a village in a world surrounded by trees, and it's called Redmond.
I am there, in a hotel room, and outside the window glows a set of shopping mall facades that ring me like a wagon train.
Under streetlights, coffee shops and Eddie Bauer outlets conduct quiet business. In a bucket near the hotel and at every street corner, free purple umbrellas are offered as protection against the rain.

Nintendo's headquarters are nearby, not far from Microsoft's. In fact, they're right next door.

Night has fallen at 6:00, and through the curtain I can see ghostly shapes of cars.

What happened in the news today? I have no idea. I played videogames all day long...endless sessions of Metroid Prime Hunters on the Nintendo DS in a warm conference room, followed by a slow wandering through endless walls of videogames and Nintendo peripherals.

Today I'm preparing for tomorrow...when a flight will deliver me back to Newark, New Jersey, on the way back to New York City. Land of a hundred thousand streetlights. And probably, several dozen Eddie Bauer outlets.

In the interest of news, I present this: I read on a blog that Anathasius Kircher developed a musical instrument made out of living cats sometime in the 1700s.

That, and Metroid Prime Hunters comes out on March 20.

I have a reader!

According to a comment on the last post, I have a reader. I'd like to commemorate that with a small celebration this morning. So, thanks for the reading, reader!

Other news: a Bluetooth RazrWire headset is now in my possession, courtesy of Motorola. Unfortunately, I wear prescription glasses...so I have no idea if they'll work over my existing lens/frame get-up. If not, I can always put them on my teddy bear...or create a small stand for it and slowly turn my NY apartment into a 5th Avenue electronics-shop display window.

Today...

I filed my unemployment claim for the previous week, which is a lot easier than it used to be.

I lugged a giant rolling bag full of groceries up the Long Island Railroad escalator and back to the apartment...I have enough chili and canned salmon to throw a military rations-party.

I visited my sick grandfather yesterday...and I learned that chemotherapy, and being alone, make for some of the saddest and most pointless moments of the life span of the human animal. I wonder...when one is sick, how can it be possible to get outside that all-consuming mindset? Solipsism reigns supreme.

I got bloodwork done, cut my hair, and sorted through boxes of old books back on Long Island.

Next up...a trip to Atlanta, a trip to Seattle, a trip to Denver, and a trip to Aruba. All for different reasons.

What will happen next?

Stay tuned...

Making up for lost time

Wednesday:

Stayed in my room, naked, until I finished a freelance piece. Went out drinking, passed out in New Jersey...

Thursday:

...woke up with a hangover at 5 am. Whimpered like a child. Drank water and feverishly crept off to the bathroom every thirty minutes to vent my feisty bowels.

At 8:30 am, "woke up" and had Advil at said house in New Jersey, went out for donuts, watched Slapshot the Movie. Took a train into New York. By the time I arrived, I was so delirious on sugar, I was trembling. Got to my apartment, lost focus, went out and nearly passed out, had a sandwich, returned and did expense reports. Went out to join former workers, drank some more, and they celebrated and gave me a going-away poster. It was thoughtful, and I was surprised. Someone else gave me a jacket and pants with many, many pockets. I took a cab home with folks.

Friday:

Am writing this post. In bed.

In Spam, I found these important messages:

ajar message from Jared Davies
arbitrate message from Margery Carlisle
samarium message from Augusta Jackson
tunic message from Ines Ware
puke message from Jamie Rios
sear message from Alvin Stratton
ordinate message from Rocky Talley
wrinkle message from Martha Hansen
tumbrel message from Kayla Erwin
dogmatic message from Kelly Oleary
koenig message from Nick Hyatt
heiress message from Young Mercado
blackwell message from Lonnie Armstrong
contiguous message from Isidro Kendall
peed message from Alisha Jenkins
flour message from Brenton Lujan

Today, I...

• Ate a great burger at Peter Luger's in Brooklyn, possibly the best $7.95 burger in NYC.
• Saw a woman playing a Casio keyboard on the subway, begging for change.
• Had tea in a bookstore and checked my email via Blackberry.
• Walked through dirty snow-puddles with waterproof shoes.
• Filed for unemployment.
• Saw Ed Asner walking out of Peter Luger's, turn a corner, and disappear.
• More on the above: when I asked the waiter about Ed Asner, he said..."Oh...that's...the doorman."
• I saw the doorman, later on, and it wasn't Ed Asner.
• When I saw Ed Asner disappear around the corner, there was no place that he could have hidden.
• Ed Asner was wearing a beige cardigan.
• He looked frail.
• I believe he boarded a small minivan on the corner, but I can't be positive.

The New World

I'm sitting in my room, as snow falls outside. I used to work at Maxim, now I'm eating Froot Loops.
It's been a long time since this blog was updated, O humble readers. Or reader. Is there only one reader? Or are there none? In the event that there are none, I speak to myself. And I bring you, as of today, a report on the fringe life I am leading. An outsider, a rogue.

I shall put on my hat and jacket soon, and go forth into the blizzard.