fashion tips for the subway

the bastard sees lots of stuff on the train so once in a while, he needs to drop some science about it.

so as the sign says, when i see something say something (cruel).

first and foremost.

when underground one should keep their mouth shut, lest they attract flys.

come on commuters, we are not a codfish.

secondly and lastly, now while they say that cellphones don't work underground because of potential terrorist threats but, i think at least ONE person in the mta has the horse sense to prevent people from yelling at the top of their lungs on the train preventing bastard's like me from napping on the train.

that said, when you are on the train or on an airplane for that matter, take your bluetooth headset out of your ear.

it is not a piece of jewelry.

it's a phone accesory.

i know that one wants everyone to know that you are part of the borg collective and all but, it don't work underground. so please. take it out.

this has been a public service announcement from bastard central. carry on.

—the bastard

monday morning...

...special 2 days late edition


so my monday began with a downpore.

which was followed by a series of bad decisions built around staying dry.

which turned into an umbrella big enough to keep the state og texas dry in a rainstorm.

which turned into a 30 minute wait for the bus which made the bastard late.

but the fair box was broken so the ride was free. so i got what i paid for in a way.

but the mistake to take the e train and wait 30-40 minutes between 63rd drive and woodhaven blvd. it felt like forever. and i actually packed a second bag for 2 days of lunch.

i get to the new space to find that part of it has been colonized by the hive mind of mystery science magazine.

there they are,

stacked two to a cube,

never speaking,

almost never moving.

i think they are going to try and assimilate left hand rob and i. i'm SO gonna stab one of them.

—the bastard

everything's coming up bastard

late in the afternoon yesterday, the bastard's ladyfriend calls up form the whole foods in union square. they were out of cupcakes. that's what she had to bring to this party we were going to.

so i headed into the fhills to pick up some cupcakes.

en route to the bakery, i saw this you hipster smoking a pipe. he couldn't be more than 22. smoking a grandad pipe.

it was glorious but i was on top of him already. i couldn't get the photo. so the bastard kept on keeping on.

then i happened into these gentlemen.

fantastic.

everything's coming up bastard

—the bastard

what rough beast...

what rough beast slouches up third avenue to block traffic on my sundays once more? to clog the streets with overpriced sausage and peppers and gyros?

yes it's the secret street fair that makes parking on the weekends.

now the bastard knows that the summer is on it's way.

—the bastard

...on housing

well, it took a little work.

and it took some patient people who have put up with the bastard's complaints.

and it also took three guys who assembled all the crap in this space but,

the bastard is back in a cube.

and he feels like an art director again.

this is my view.

—the bastard

...on the filth

"hey kid"

"huh?"

"hey kid"

"what?"

"i gotta a bag of porn here. five bucks for the whole bag"

"ummmmmm, no thanks"

"ya sure kid? i got a bagga fulla porn here."

"ummmmm, yeah i'm sure"

the chairman's commute is never dull.

—the bastard

...on the fall of the house of usher 6

...special wedding edition

the the one of the chairman's sister got married this weekend.

and we all went but we decided to go hunting as well.

the chair had told me that his mother's side of the family do their best to keep their very important guido roots held up on high.

and yesterday was no slouch, for the bastard spotted his prey before the ceremony even started.

QUICK SIDEBAR: one of the editors of killing stuff monthly had gone caribou hunting in alaska and had to be flown in by bush plane and he had remarked that as he flew over the valley, there were hundreds of caribou just hanging out in the valley in plain sight. the thought here was that one could really get jazzed because you knew that a kill would be inevitable.

and this was how the bastard felt as he was about to spend several hours near his target. i was so jazzed. the chairman was jazzed. hell, even the mofo(r.i.p.) was jazzed. fish in a barrel, it was.

this character was majestic. his formal wear decks complemented his awful matlock suit quite innappropriately.

but the chairman's family could not take credit for this for their only enyertainment value of the day was when my ladyfriend pointed out this large headed gentleman who had struggled to take his suit jacket off for close to 10 minutes after the ceremony. coincidentally, the chairman had pointed out his date's drunkeness to me later as i pointed out how she looked like she was wearing a red silk garbage bag as a dress.

but none could take the day away from our guido matlock. our hates were off to him as well as his date who either dressed him or had self control enough to not ask him, "are you sure you want to go out looking like that?" good for them. good for their bad taste. and most of all ,good for my disdain.

—the bastard

...on multitasking

so the chairman and i went to grab a bite on friday night and we came across this couple who were apparently on a date.

we had a 15 minute wait for a table as all comers did on friday.

and from the onset, my observation that they were a very affectionate couple who were holding each other and that's always nice.

but upon closer examination, we realized that they were not looking into each other's eye but:

texting other people on their crackberries!

now to be fair, the bastard does a little texting (ok a bunch of texting) but, he tries to keep it out of the arena of restaurants most of the time.

i just found it funny that they were so close to each other but so very far away from each other because they were both looking over each other's shoulders, texting.

i guess it's a really efficient way to mix business and pleasure. romance is dead. long live romance

—the bastard

...on jockeying for position

real quick.

before the coffee starts to kick in.

to that rather desheveled looking kid in the cordovan colored members only leather jacket that you no doubt bought at a thrift store for 10 times what and rational person would pay for it (now THAT's irony) who was bobbing and weaving his way up the escalator at lexington and 53rd.

yeah you, the one i collided with midway through.

i don't what your response was as i had headphones on but,

fuck off little man.

quit trying to nudge your way past everyone.

we're all running late and you're no more special than the rest of us.

and you should really do something about that hair. you look like a homeless man. go die.

—the bastard

this weak is magazines...

working in the shooting sports industry does afford the bastard exposure to many odds and sods of the magazine industry. it also affords me exposure to many interesting characters in the hunting and fishing field. i mean case in point. for instance, i see ted nugent more often than i see most of my relatives. also i met a guy who organizes night hunts for wild boar in the south. before you get nutty, wild boar are a nuisance species and reproduce like rats....only they are 500 pound rats that destroy crops and are not indigenous to the place in question (the bastard sure as shit ain't tell you where). anyway, left hand rob and i get to see some pretty...........um.......... let's say, unique looking magazines. so we thought to share.

but this leads to this weak's magazine. wild boar usa is a niche publication for the wild boar hunting enthusiast. and on the cover (this wasn't my first issue) the is a little bit of jesus on every cover. it's digest size, like everyday food, or readers digest and most articles come in 14-16 point type. my copy is currently entertaining the new photo editor of killing stuff monthly who oddly enough, is a vegetarian. which means more beef jerky for me when it comes around.

—the bastard

...on lessons learned

...from rocky one to rocky three


so my taxes came back today.

and i sent the money out.

and the bastard is poor again.

well not really. it just sound more melodramatic when i say that. but, the lesson here is, when you do a sizeable amount of freelance, pay your estimated taxes so that you aren't shocked when you are greeted with a nice sum that uncle sam wants from you.

lesson learned. back to square one.

back where we started

here we go around again.

day after day

i get up and i say,

i'm gonna do it gain.

cheers. drinks are on me. cause i spilled them on me.

—the bastard

...on flag waving

...and cocking that up too.

the chairman has gone to san francisco on bidness.

the devil's bidness.

so since we have family in the golden state, he decided to make plans with the accountant.

in a nutshell, the chairman did a bunch of very san franciscan things.

golden gate bridge, chinatown for the closest one can authentic chinese food and be geographically close to china as well.

you know.

shit like that.

but in golden gate park, it went down like this, there was a free tibet demonstration in the park overlooking the bridge and people were waving the tibetan flag around. now the bastard does his part the only way he knows how.

the easy way.

i just don't buy nikes or drink bass ale. they

do business in china.

aren't i great?

anyway, this family is watching the protest. grandmother, mother, daughter.

the daughter asks her grandmother what is happening and the grandmother responded with, "i think they are waving their county's flag around. i think their from japan".

now maybe she hasn't read a newspaper since the pearl harbor bombing but the japanese flag no longer looks like the rising sun, it is a red circle on a white field while the tibetan flag looks like neither. this leads the bastard to believe one of two things. that the popular elitest belief that NOT watching television (because you know, tv is evil and all), may not be all it's cocked up to be. or that there are just some folks in the flyover states that just aren't paying attention to the world unless it's being discussed in a supermarket tabloid. the bastard hasn't figgered it out yet. but at least they don't leave me wanting for material.

—the bastard

spoiling

so for a change of pace, my commute sucked ass.

it was one of those days where i guess one late train makes for a full ass platform.

which makes for a crowded train.

which makes for a lot of inconsiderate behavior infringing on your morning.

the bastard wasn't going to get into the asshole who used me as a piece of furniture until i tugged his chinese language newspaper. but while looking for links to posts where i complain about the subway (which number in the thousands apparently), i came across a picture of this dick. i even wrote haiku about him.

where there you go.

so i nice he did it twice. kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the post but in a nutshell, all of you on the r train and the 6 train this morning suck at life. now lets be fair, only the commute from 8:30-9:20. and the front car of the r. back car of the 6. the rest of you may suck at life but i wasn't talking about you. try to keep up.

—the bastard

...on vocabulary

...special weekend vermin edition


so this morning, the bastard was watching the new york one news.

and let me start off by telling you that there is a rat problem in harlem.

and of course, they ran it every hour right after the rail and road report.

and then it hit me. it doesn't take much scholastically to be a manhattan state senator.

“Obviously the building is responsible for this garbage, and obviously they're not containerizing their garbage properly,”

—Democratic Manhattan State Senator Bill Perkins

is containerize even a word?

the bastard looks it up and much his surprise, it is. still and all, it sounds like a made up word. the bastard wishes he could show you the video footage so that you can really see the way it's said (maybe i'm just down on politicians these days). but i'm sure it'll be run on ny1 all weekend, so look for it.

so we'll have to settle for this video footage:



because sometimes, you have to sit through uncle junior singing about a news network once in a while.

—the bastard

...on nightmares

...and dreamscapes

part one: get rich or die trying.

chairman: hey

the bastard: yesh?

chairman: ok, crazy dreams last nite

chairman: you shived 50 cent to death, in vegas

the bastard: he had it coming

the bastard: and vegas had a crowd i could disappear into

chairman: well u me and jamie kennedy were hanging out in the Wynn

the bastard: jamie kennedy?

chairman: and 50 walked by and i go holy shit its 50 cent and 50 goes no pictures

the bastard: what the hell is wrong with you man?

chairman: but u kept running around w/ ur iphone

chairman: try to snap shots

chairman: then 50 recognized me

chairman: and said you man tom can get a picture with me

chairman: so u took it with the iphone

chairman: but 50 felt it was too pixelated

chairman: and was poor quality

chairman: apparently he's a fotog

chairman: so you go chairman, i'm gonna have to take out the good knife

chairman: and u stabbed him

chairman: fast forward

chairman: we're in the desert with samuel l. jackson

chairman: trying to bury 50's body

chairman: and sandra bullock posed as an overzealous reporter sees us

chairman: and puts it on the interweb. So you decide because you're the overlord at this point

chairman: that we're going to commandeer 50's suite at the wynn

chairman: then i woke up

the bastard: well at least i'm not a boring date

part two: don't call it a comeback:

chairman: to only go back to bed to have a dream that staten island was going to blow up

chairman: and i was in a car with philip seymour hoffman

the bastard: nice

the bastard: that is the best dream EVER

chairman: who was telling me about his fleggling baseball career with the brewers

the bastard: he does look sort of midwestern

chairman: we were driving a 1984 maroon station wagon

the bastard: chevy or ford?

chairman: but the air was filled with propane gas

chairman: mercury

the bastard: i see

chairman: with the roof rack

the bastard: grand marquis wagon?

chairman: yes!

the bastard: 80's era?

chairman: w/ the wood paneling on the sides

the bastard: nice

chairman: maroon seats

chairman: yes

the bastard: that's the only way to drive

chairman: tape player

the bastard:what was on the tape player

chairman: high end

chairman: styx

the bastard: benzi box?

the bastard: was it best of times?

chairman: and damn yankees

the bastard: or mister roboto?

the bastard: did it take you high enough?

chairman: he was trying to talk me back into a comeback

chairman: im not sure if i was a singer

the bastard: a comeback?

chairman: or a baseball player

chairman: or what

the bastard: i see

chairman: but he wanted me to comeback

the bastard: but you know what l.l. sez

the bastard: don't call it a comeback

the bastard: you know what this means chairman?

the bastard: it means that you're gonna kill again

chairman: goooooooood

chairman: not psh tho

chairman: he's a genius

the bastard: nah, he'll be your accomplice

part three: the bodycount?

the bastard: i'm putting this on the blog

the bastard: too good not to

chairman: at least i have A list celebs in my dreams

chairman: not sure why you keep stabbing them

chairman: i think if u had a chance u would have stabbed PSH too

chairman: first sarah silverman, then 50

the bastard: oh wait, i stabbed sarah silverman too?

quick sidebar: the chairman had a dream last weekend that he was married to sarah silverman and she made fun of me several times, prompting the bastard to storm out of his subconscious.

the bastard: i thought i just stormed off

chairman: true

chairman: naa u made a shiv out of a spoon

chairman: and came back and stabbed her

the bastard: nice

chairman: and your ladyfriend was pissed that u did that

chairman: but apparently you're a ruthless serial killer who kills my A list celebrity friends

the bastard: i am

the bastard: everyone has to have a hobby

chairman: after you killed 50 you were really excited that it was on perez hilton

the bastard: nice

chairman: this is all your fault for making me write my crazy dreams down

chairman: and passing out to VH1

the bastard: excellent, it'll help in the long run

the bastard: well i know that you love the 80's

the bastard: and hal sparks

chairman: who doesn't love hal sparks

the bastard: your mom

chairman: good point

the bastard: i know

someone please stop me before i kill again. for the love of a-listers.

—the bastard

...on crosstown traffic

well, it's becoming widely reported that congestion pricing is done for now.

the bastard is quite happy for this.

i won't get too much more into it because everything that has to be said about it has been said by queens crap and forest hills 72. al lot of people that were for it are bitching over at gothamist. my favorite comment was from some genius from the upper west (because the upper west side REALLY speaks to the people that would have to pay for this plan)

I hate people who drive. UGH.

yes because the fresh direct fairy magically levitates your groceries across town. myopic dick. yes, i only took part of the quote because the bastard is divisive.

but i just wanted to say i'm glad it went down. parking sucks around here enough already. i'm sure this won't be the last we hear of it but, for now, huzzah.

—the bastard

behold his cold dead hands

let me start this off by saying that i was a fan of heston.

the bastard first saw the 10 commandments and planet of the apes when his was a wee lad and i always enjoyed his work

i even like soylent green.

notsomuch with the omega man.

but here's the thing.

this weekend, when he died, new york 1 was covering it. and the way new york 1 covers things is they slap it on a tape and play it every hour.

and the bastard is too lazy to change the channel. so i watched the report 10 times on saturday and every time it was the part in the ten commandments when heston parts the red sea saying

"behold his mighty hand"

and after hearing that 10 times or so, i started thinking about his time as president of the nra (hell i also thought about what an unfair prick michael moore was to him in bowling for columbine). but after hearing that phrase, it made me think of his "from my cold dead hands" speeches.

and the bastard had to wonder, did they manage to pry it from his cold dead hands? sleep well judah ben hur.

—the basatard

...the bastard has got to tell you

nothing says it's spring again like a delay on the downtown 6 because a homeless person passed out and threw up all over the second to last car.

good times.

i wanted to walk a little bit anyway.

—the bastard

...on challenges

the bastard tries to watch his weight.

well...

not all the time but he tries. so BACK OFF!

anyway, left hand rob has been at the weight loss game for a little while now and he's been doing it the old fashioned way.

by earning it.

and the bastard admires his self control as i've seen him turn down the run to the chessesteak place many times knowing full well that as a native pennsylvanian, cheese whiz courses through his veins and still he turns it down. bravo, i say.

but last night, the bastard had dinner with his ladyfriend, saxomafone, and his wife, h.m. (they came in from las vegas, under cover of darkness). we went out for ribs (rrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiibbbbbbbssssss!) at rub, which is a personal favorite.

but, the bastard has alot of personal favorites.

but now, i have to issue a challenge to rob's personal resolve. a challenge to his self control.

so rob i only have two words for you.

frito pie.

yes lobster, frito pie. i double dog DARE you to resist it's artery clogging goodness. and yes, it IS as good it looks. better the bastard would argue. gauntlet is down. and the games afoot.

—the bastard

the bastard can take out your kids's whole class

30

just to let you know. so back off because i will mess you UP!

—the bastard

this is what's wrong with everything in this world

"okay, i'm going to get stuff by the dryer," exclaims my ladyfriend

"ok"

"watch the chicken for me"

"ok"

tongue planted firmly in my cheek, the bastard picks up this weeks issue of time out new york because hell, this week is about how your family fucks you up and i stand in the kitchen waiting for her to get back upstairs.

it's called the setup. please try to keep up.

but as i was flipping through it i saw this:

i saw this guy once on the new york one. he runs a studio that does nude yoga. now that's not really the shocking/wrong part. the shocking wrong part is he's wearing a onesie. a fucking ONESIE!!!!!

for those of you that don't have kids, a onesie is a one piece shirt underwear set that babies wear and it has little buttons so when your baby craps his/her drawers, you can change their diaper and have them reclothed instantly.

it's not for making yoga more disturbing.

i mean look at him, he looks like he took a dump in his yoga onesie.

it's disturbing.

OW! OW! OWWWWWW! my eyes, MY EYES!

then my girlfriend came back upstairs and we made dinner and watched television. and even though the nightmare of the adult male onesie will never go away, it was still a good night.

—the bastard