Beware of Fur Entanglements
Being of a Certain Age — and, more importantly, not of a Less Certain, Younger Age — we’ve long since given up tracking What The Kids Are Up To. It’s a condition that sets in when you pass 40: The moment you realize There are now grown adults who don’t share my hip Gilligan’s Island references.
At that point, you can be Bob Denver, a sad relic of an earlier time, or you can just give up and fucking deal with it.
(Note: The retro-hip Adam West option is not available to you.)
So we don’t bother with Being Aware of All Internet Traditions, since Internet Traditions are notoriously fleeting, and the only worse thing than being Old is being the Old Guy at the Disco. All we ask of life is that we reach a ripe age where we can wear socks with our Birks, and nobody gives a shit.
(Note: Does not apply to Oregon, where everybody wears socks with their Birks. Fuck you, Footwear Fascists.)
Still, our attention is drawn to a Youthful Internet Pasttime that consists, near as we can tell, of Typing Clever Things on Silly Pictures. And our attention is only drawn because when you call something The Best Cat Memes of the Year, there is no Young, there is no Old. There is only Submission.
The Best Cat Memes of the Year [I Can Has Cheezburger]
My second day of filming and the question now is do I buy the bespoke, hand-tailored suit they fitted on me for an absurdly reduced price or do I act my age instead?
Opening Day, 2011-2012 ski season: I signed up for ski school to cut lift lines, tour the mountain (where I learned in the 70s) and see where I’m at for the start of the season. I ended up cramping up badly at the end of the day with my left thigh feeling like it was about to explode. My first day does not usually consist of half a morning of steep bumpy expert runs, but it was kind of a cool way for a 50 year old guy to start off the season.
Took Son of RML and two school friends. We marveled at the lunar eclipse, listened to underground rap and dubstep, and I took them to my all time favorite burrito place which amazed them, always mindful that I’m a dad and not their friend.
Scanned the alt and college music channels on the sat radio while on the road yesterday, didn’t care for most of it. I liked the electronic music better and of course the Metal. Didn’t check out the pop music channels. Most of the female singers today sound like chipmunks, and I don’t get Adele and Florence and the Machine. I did get to tell a friend and his wife over dinner about Honey Badger, the one who doesn’t give a shit, not the Heisman candidate.
@Benedick: Buy it! Unless you’re going to Thailand or Hong Kong in the next few years.
@redmanlaw: Sounds like a good trip. College radio here on WRAS is pretty hit or miss but you can find some gems — like some swing music on Sunday mornings and some cool rockabilly on Saturday nights. Then other nights, weird electronic music. I like our radical commie libral nonprofit station, WRFG (Radio Free Georgia), a left-on-the-dial non-NPR station with Democracy Now and all sorts of cool stuff. It’s awesome that it’s been on the air for 40 years without big corporate money or guvmint anything.
So, you’re saying there’s a down side to turning forty?
I don’t believe you.
@rptrcub: just tuned into wrfg. they’re playing the same tunes i was listening to on pandora. thanx.
@Benedick: Buy the suit. You know that, ultimately, as a Gay man, you have no choice in the mater anyway.
I drove 2800 miles and was able to listen to public radio every mile of the way. I was thrilled and amazed. Very briefly I stopped scanning for the next PR station while somewhere in Indiana and learned from a local talk radio show that I like to kill babies. I didn’t listen long enough to find out whether they realize that I also like to eat them for breakfast.
@karen marie has her eyes tight shut: Isn’t that app on the NPR website that maps out your route the greatest thing ever?
ROFL! I don’t need no stinking app! I don’t even have a scan button on my car radio, I twirl the dial by hand.
There were two really outstanding programs. One was a lengthy interview with Pete Seeger and the other was an hour of music of the ’20s and ’30s. The worst, sad to say, was a New Mexico station that played fucking Muzak the entire afternoon. Fortunately, before I completely lost my mind, I found the station with the Seeger interview. The ’20s/’30s music was in Oklahoma which, surprisingly, had really good public radio stations.
Oh, and for the record, I care about the Birks with socks thing. Some things are simply unnatural.
@Tommmcatt Be Fat, And That Be That: Footwear Fascist. It’s, like, 57 degrees today. As an Exceptional American, I have a God-given right to be comfy.
@Tommmcatt Be Fat, And That Be That: All those sad Californians moving to the Northwest, not knowing what they’re in for: Rain, Gray, and Socks with Birks.
@nojo: For Goodness sake, BUY A SNUGGIE!
@Tommmcatt Be Fat, And That Be That: Dear God, Sir, I’m not a barbarian.
@nojo: Comfy? COMFY? Do you know how much work it is to wear a slim fitting suit with pencil pants? Do you? Thank God I lost the 15 lbs. Speaking of God, If He wanted us to be comfy he’d have made us lesbians. Take off the damn socks, you big sissy.
@Benedick: From someplace on Saville Row? Or an American knock -off? You’re leaving out the good parts, Benedick.
@Benedick: Do you want to know how many times I wore a suit in the previous decade?
And that was for a video.
@nojo: if i have a suit on, it means somebody died. i finally had to tell everybody i’m related to or know to quit dieing. it’s working so far. i sure hope i didn’t jinx myself or anybody else with this post.
@Tommmcatt Be Fat, And That Be That: The director of this fiasco has a friend who is trying to be the new Tom Ford except for str8 men – I know. It has a name but I’ve forgotten it as it was more than five hours ago.
I’m not buying the suit. Sit down. Breathe. Let me explain. Gay to gay. The pants are perfect, my ass looks a dream, and the shoulders are what God intended but the sleeves are set wrong. I’m so muscular and broad in the shoulder it’s hard to get a jacket that can fit me. The fabric is gorgeous, a buttery-soft prince-of-wales check in a brightish blue and grey but made up in an extremely tailored double-breasted (when your hips are as narrow as mine you can carry it off) that has something just faintly Trumpish about the look that won’t read well in the 16th arrondissement. I was wearing a shirt made by this man’s company with a buttoned yet boned collar that one absolutely needs a valet to close. Luckily one had dressers.
The day was traumatic. GPS
bitch helper took me through places in Queens where poors live. One was shocked.
@nojo: I’m talking the new narrow-cut spiv look, cutting-edge, don’t sit down you’ll split the pants, not Escondido Men’s Whorehouse.
@Benedick: My shoulders are in the wrong place to wear a lot of European-cut suit jackets. My wife says that Lucky brand jeans make my ass look good, i.e. smaller than a Volkswagen, but they don’t wear as long as Levis.
@Dodgerblue: Darling, every normal man’s shoulders are in the wrong place to wear europeon suits. Franch and Italian male babies have one lung removed soon after birth in a bris-like ceremony that prepares them for adulthood as waiter/escorts in various decrepit spa/whorehouses in various Europeon capitals: aka South Beach.
My ass is not as tight as Anthony Perkins’s but whose is? But it’s pretty tight. We bounce quarters off it regularly.
@Benedick: The only way I can get my arms into the sleeves of the Italian/Franch suit jackets is with my arms straight up — which may explain certain wartime behaviors over there.
@Benedick: Fine, but I never have occasion to wear a suit. Nor do I seek them out.
@Benedick: I think I just came a little. Are you absolutely certain you don’t want it? There are such things a tailors, you know.
@Tommmcatt Be Fat, And That Be That: I have a call from the costume designer on my voice mail. I must be strong. I am not the sum of my appearance. I have standards. Even though the pants hugged my thighs like a vicar on a choirboy. Even though the smoky blue of the weave turned my eyes to cornflower and my beard to steel. Did I yet mention how perfectly it fitted my chest? No gaps or puckers just smooth pec gorgeousness? Grips were excusing themselves to go into the bathroom after I passed by. The shoot ran out of toilet paper and Bounty Select-a-Size.
But no. I am not so shallow. I am cheaper than that. I have health insurance to pay by the end of the month.
@Benedick: Say that again. Slower this time…
@Tommmcatt Be Fat, And That Be That: Fucking A, I want Benedick’s suit so I can channel Tilda Swinton.
@Dodgerblue: You make me laugh. In a good way.
@Benedick: I was out on the Navajo Nation the other day where people squeak by on a monthly check of $403, One guy said he was making a truck payment of $250 out of that. He lives in a house with no running water or electricity. Dude uses Coleman lanterns for light and heats his house with wood. Although we grew up like that for a bit, it’s not so much that we were as poor as that guy, it’s just that the utility and phone lines didn’t extend into Indian land and the tribe didn’t have a water system until the mid-70s.
Outside of employment with the tribal school or government the economy in that corner of the Navajo Nation is built almost entirely on transfer payments. There’s no private enterprise to speak of except for a little convenience store and laundromat. The nearest shit ass little town is 20 miles away. There’s a larger run down town on the Interstate about an hour away. A school employee who embezzled funds spent her ill gotten gains at the Wal-Mart there.
@redmanlaw: Still too far away from the cities to open a casino? It’s getting uglier than it already was out here in Cali with the tribes and the gaming money. A while back, I worked with someone whose wife was getting a $10K monthly check for doing nothing but breathing and having the right maternal grandma.
I guess that’s what the McCain and Romney kids are just used to, but it’s fucked up.
@karen marie has her eyes tight shut: I rarely do road trips these days, but I used to enjoy AM radio during long drives. Yelling back kept me awake.
@nojo: I discovered Rush, “Dr” Laura and some wacky financial advisers driving the Panhandle throughout the late 80s. Decent FM radio was really hard to come by – Canyon College outside of Amarillo had a phenomenal college station, as I recall.
@nojo: It’s like 57 degrees today.
Convert that shit to centigrade in your head, and I might be impressed, Brocks Boy. <– Birks with socks. I made it up. I think it will catch on.
Look — the point of wearing Birks in the first place is to show the world that you don’t give a fuck about footwear or the scuzzy appearance of your feet. You are a True Hippie, whether you are one or not. You hug trees. You pay good money to have your stinky ass old Birks recorked. You are cool.
The socks tell the world you got the Birks at the Goodwill with a six pack of sport socks. (Please tell me you wear them with white calf socks.)
@JNOV will finish this lovely sweater today or bust: The point of wearing Birks is comfy feet.
The point of recorking Birks is that it’s cheaper than buying new ones.
And in Eugene, there is no world that cares about your footwear. There are only other people wearing Birks. With thick, comfy socks. Especially in the winter.
And besides, I enjoy being a freak.
@nojo: There is no defense for shame, Nojo. None.
Toto, I don’t think we’re in Eugene anymore…
You are my favorite freak, Nojo.
Oh, sweater FINISHED, and it’s gorgeous!
@Benedick: OK, fess up. What is this photo shoot / filming thing that you’re doing? And did you keep the suit? You think I want to write this stupid brief that’s been glaring at me from my computer screen all day?
@redmanlaw: I’m grieved to read this. But do please let me send myself up a little. By this I don’t mean to devalue the very real struggle that too many of our fellow-travellers through this vale of tears must endure. I’m not unaware that for the time being I lead what could be considered a charmed life, though that hasn’t always been true. Making a fool of myself among my online friends helps me get through the day. I can’t always rely on Catt to do it, at times he’s selfish enough to exhibit signs of having his own life and I require ridicule 24/7.
@JNOV will finish this lovely sweater today or bust: Pliz! Everyone knows you wear GREY socks with Birks. Wear white and the folk in Starbucks will point you out to their children as an example to be avoided. And plus there will be sniggering in the 7-11.
@JNOV will finish this lovely sweater today or bust: Congrats!
@Dodgerblue: I feel your pain. I’m avoiding the writing of business letters and have been for… Hey! Let’s play Angry Birds Seasons! That would be so awesome… What the hey! It’s lunch already? I did not see that coming.
My first audition in 6 years landed me a couple of days in a movie playing Jason Bateman’s love interest.
His father. That’s what it was. Which is different. Isn’t it? Catt. Help me, daddy.
It mostly involved improvising fights with a nice lady who was my wife. It will all be cut and I doubt the movie will ever see the light of day. But what do I know? Coming from the theatre I was overwhelmed with the opulence of the operation, hundreds of 20 somethings with Apple accessories, doing stuff. There were trailers and mountains of props. Catering made whatever you wanted for breakfast and kept a constant supply of snacks going till lunch. I was sent to hair, make-up, wardrobe. I was given silk underwear to keep me warm, and a $3,000 suit to wear to stand on a flight of steps and watch luggage be loaded into a vintage Jag. Yesterday I fought with my ‘wife’ on a beach in Queens. It is a ridiculous life. Mind you, I’ve never been part of a movie in which I had a real rôle to play so I suppose that’s different. I did enjoy a couple of TVs I did back in the old country.
This particular nonsense is about a man in his 40s – Bateman – who has grown up as the hero in The Diamond As Big As The Ritz, a novella I personally think is tripe, suddenly he is thrown out of his richy-rich life (don’t ask me why, it has to do with why my ‘wife’ and I were fighting; and BTW when I auditioned, our scenes were set in Monaco so I reckoned on a couple of weeks doing hard time on the Riviera, which is the only reason to do movies, but then they lost their studio funding and were forced to go indie), he is compelled to complete the novel he has been tinkering with since he was 12, he has a ‘relationship’ with a 6 ft model beloved by his best friend, the novel is compared slightingly with Fitzgerald (are we still awake?) then at the end of this terrible week he gets his money back but has the sads since the model left him for Billy Crudup (Who wouldn’t? The line forms to the left. Anyone got the hardon pics? Can we get him together with Cheyenne?).
The writer/director is trending. he is also an illiterate boor. He also has no clue about structure. All his heroes are stand-ins for himself. He has a beard. Bateman has a beard. I have a beard. (OK. Is it just me or I do I totally rock the look? I’m like on the set “Mish Monapennay..” And they’re all like total dweebs?) W/D also has a giant nose and colosall feet, which he does not help by wearing skinny jeans. And I can’t help but wonder who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to sink a couple of mill in such tripe? Probably the same people funded Juno.
I didn’t buy the suit. I never wear them. But having spent so many years as an actor I still get all caught up in dressing the part. Plus it would have cost a fortune for shoes, shirt, tie of some sort. Paris will have to take me as I am.
To put things in proportion I actually did audition for a revival of Mame and didn’t get it. To the actor, humiliation is like sunshine: you can never get enough.
We will need a Stinque delegation to the gala opening (even if it isn’t in Monaco). Road trip.
@Benedick: I will totally stand in line with 16-year old gum-snapping morons to see this movie. Hint: 6 ft model. One can only hope that she appears nude in a car chase scene that involves a lot of stuff blowing up. That’s entertainment.
@Walking Still: What he said.
@Dodgerblue: Stuff doesn’t blow up. It gets thought about on the rainy streets of Soho. The only interesting thing about such a waste of time is the huge technical competence of the crew. 6 ft model is Olivia Wilde. I have no clue who that is but she has a very nice dog.
@Walking Still: The Longest Week. Presented without comment. Look for it on Netflix. Also The Spy Who Loved Me. I’m the American sailor with the awesome abs.
@Benedick: Olivia’s father is Alexander Cockburn, the “journalist,” per Wikipedia.
Yeah. Whatever. My fucking internal speakers aren’t working – red light on intermittently. Using new mic iPhone headphones — lost the old ones.
1. Dicked around with Systems Pref -> Sound -> headphones in, headphones out, repeat
2. Dicked around with MIDI
3. Ran disk utility, permissions. All that shit
4. Started in safemode
5. stuck Q-tip minus tip in jack and wigged it some (it was dirrrty)
6. turned off system prefs, dicked around with hf in/out/in/out/in/out ad in fucking finitum
7. Launched fucking garage band -> new project. NOTHING
8. about to erase some fucking file hidden somewhere
There’s another debate? We should find a way to make some $ off of these fucking things.
@Benedick: Are you the sailor who had never seen a Major taking a shower before?
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