Friday, March 27, 2009

Precision German Engineering ( Or Is It German Precision Engineering?)


About three years ago on the autopista (the highway from Santiago to Santo Domingo) a toll booth was erected. It has never operated. The toll was going to be collected only in one direction (South). There are 3 lanes set up to collect the tolls. Some are exact change lanes that have the baskets into which you are supposed to throw the toll. So far they have only opened two lanes going south. All three are equipped with exact change baskets into which you throw your toll money, the purpose of which is to save time.Check out the installation of the one of the baskets. First, notice that the car on the right hand side. That car is at the same level as I am. Now move over to the left of the photo. I took this from my SUV, which sits pretty high. I have to look up quite far to see the basket. How could anyone possible get the money in their unless they were in a very large truck? But trucks are not allowed to use exact change lanes. People are going to have to get out of their cars and jump up to try to get the money in. That should do wonders for speeding up the flow of traffic.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Chicken,Pasta, or Veal


I worked in the mid 60's for the Playboy Club. First in 1966 I was hired as a Room Director at the Club in Boston. I don't remember why, but all the other clubs were the Playboy Club of Chicago, of New York, or wherever, but in Boston it could only be called Playboy of Boston. If I remember correctly I was hired primarily because when I went on the interview I was wearing the only suit I owned which happened to be a black sharkskin suit with a bright red lining (I was quite the fashion plate at an early age). Coincidentally the fellow interviewing me had on a black suit with the same red lining. I pointed this out to him and from that point on we were kindred spirits. I had gone on the interview after moving to Boston about 6 months before. I had quit college, NYU, and had decided that I wanted to move to another big city and since I had gone to school in Boston for a year, I felt comfortable moving there. My mother was a wonderful saver and, thanks to her, I have the letters that I wrote home both from Boston and, later on, from Chicago. Some of the information that I include here comes from those letters. I had found an apartment in the "college" section of Boston and have no idea what I was paying for rent, but it couldn't have been much more than $40 per month. The super of the building in which I lived had a thriving business which was cleaning out apartments after someone moved out and then painting them and getting them ready for the next tenant. I needed to work and he put me on. I was a carrier. I had to schlep all the shit out of the apartment that the former tenant had left behind. If I remember correctly, I was making $1.00 per hour. I was given a tryout as a painter but there were a couple of problems. One was I was a horrible painter,my work was very uneven, and the other was that as with all things involving repair, I was a klutz. I got paint all over. I still refuse to fix anything that breaks and my excuse is always the same. I don't want to hurt myself and if you allow me to use any sort of tool it is just a matter of time until I do. I failed the tryout which was too bad because as a painter I would have made big money. He was paying $1.50 an hour. A king's ransom. I quickly recognized that I had a limited future in the apartment reclamation business and got busy looking for a real job. I remember that as a freshman in college we had had a heated discussion in my dorm about whether it was possible to get a job out of college that would pay $100 per week to start. That was 1963. This was now 1966. I was 21. I looked through the paper for work and answered a couple of the sales help wanted ads and got offered several of them but they were all straight commission, no salary, and I needed money. I came across an ad that said, "Playboy of Boston needs kitchen help". My father had been a Playboy Key Holder ( they never liked to just say Member) and he had taken me to the New York Playboy Club a couple of times. I remembered that there were men working in positions that did not involve the kitchen so I took a chance and went over to the club to check it out. The suit nailed it. It was either that, or the fact that one of the Room Directors had quit two days previously, but regardless of the reason, the job was mine. I was there for about 9 months and then was transferred without being consulted to the home club, The Chicago Playboy Club. It actually took place as follows: I was called into the GM's office on a Thursday night and asked if I would be interested in relocating to Chicago. I said yes and the GM told me that that was good because I was already on the schedule at the Chicago club and that I was due to start on Monday. I was to be promoted and would be an assistant shift manager. That great news was followed by the news that I had to be report for work on Monday (turns out the weekly schedule started on Tuesday) and that since there was an airline strike, the only way I could be assured of arriving on time in Chicago was to take a bus. So I did. It was about a 24 hour ride (that's a guess, but anything over 6 hours might as well be 24) and I all I remember about it was that it was long. I got there on Monday, reported to the club and then went about finding a place to live. I got myself almost completely settled that first day. I started working on Tuesday and although I had additional responsibilities, basically it was the same job that I had in Boston. I was a room director. Luckily for me, I started in Playboy's Penthouse, which was a room that had a show. The shows were always the same. A singer and a comedian. Depending on who was more famous, and usually neither of them were that famous, the lesser known went first. That was where I met Pat Morita (Mr. Miagi, in The Karate Kid) We used to hang out and smoke up. He was a comic on the Playboy circuit. That means he went from Playboy Club to Playboy Club. I met a few other people who would go on to become famous and a big bunch that just kind of faded away. The best part of the Penthouse was the other Room Director, Rudi Arrigoni. Rudi was a legend. He had opened the club in 1960 and had always been there in the same room with the same job. I have always considered myself to be the funniest person that I know. Rudi was funnier. One of his "classics" would take place when a customer would come to the door and ask about the food. Playboy Clubs were famous for only serving one thing in their showrooms, a delicious steak that was the same price as all the drinks, $1.50. Now that I think about it, If I could have gotten the job, which I couldn't, I would have had to have painted an hour just to eat at the club. A customer would come to the door and ask what we served. Rudi would ask what they felt like eating. Usually the customer would express an ambivalence as to what they wanted and tell that to Rudi. That was all he had to hear. "You don't know what you want? You come to a restaurant to eat and you have no idea what you feel like eating? Come on, you gotta be kidding. Chicken, pasta, veal, which is it?" At this point the customer would often say that they really didn't know. Rudi would hit them with, "Are you looking to cause me a problem? You want me to go into the chef to place an order and when he asks what you want I am going to tell him I don't know? I have seen him throw a plate at someone answering him that way, C'mon you have to pick, chicken, pasta, or veal?" As the choice, whatever it was, would start to come out of the customer's mouth Rudi was already saying as sweetly as possible, "I'm sorry, we're out of that."
Tonight someone did that to me, almost. I wanted to by some Thera Flu and tried 4 different pharmacies. Finally I tried the drug store across from where I live. The conversation was in Spanish, but basically, I told the clerk what I wanted, he asked me if I wanted the Thera Flu tea or the Thera Flu tabs and I told him tea. He went and got me two containers and when I looked at them I realized that they were Sinu Tab. I told him that I wanted Thera Flu and he told me that they never carry that. I walked outside and literally screamed. Then I thought of Rudi, and started to laugh.
The milk photo is a story for another day.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Thursday, March 19, 2009

And Then Depression Set In

For a long time Stripes was one of my favorite movies. At the very start of the movie Bill Murray's character loses his job as a cab driver, watches as his car is repossessed, drops a box with a pizza in it on the ground, and has his girlfriend walk out on him at which point he utters the title of this post.

That line came to my mind last night. A friend sent me Shine A Light, the Rolling Stones concert movie made by Martin Scorcese. I always have the same thought when I see someone, a relative, a friend, or a celebrity (particularly musicians) that I haven't seen in a long time and that is, My G-d, how old I have gotten. Not them, me. This was one rare case where I was astounded by how someone else has aged. The Rolling Stones have aged. It was actually painful to see old they look in the movie. I am really thankful that I did not see it in either IMAX or High Definition. These guys were my contemporaries. Jagger and Richards are a year or two older than I am. They have lines on their faces that are almost indescribable. I have never seen such lines. That didn't really upset me, but that all the members of the band still have a full head of hair made me crazy. And skinny? It was painful to see how skinny they were. To describe them as thin is to miss the point. You have to use the word skinny. Rafael, the factory owner's son, Carlos is painfully skinny. It hurts to look at him. Mick and Keith make Carlos look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. Mick has no ass and Keith shows the signs of a hard, drugged life. Through it all, though, there they are still truckin' along. And they still rock.
I was lucky enough to see the Stones live many times. The announcer always brought them out with, "Ladies and Gentleman, the greatest Rock and Roll band in the world, The Rolling Stones." And they always were the greatest Rock and Roll band. I remember one album, Let It Bleed, that on the liner notes had a bold faced notice: This record should be played loud. Everything they ever recorded should be played loud. They were great. Apparently they still are great. Being away from the US music scene for a long time, I have lost touch with most of the releases of the past 10 years, so there were several songs with which I was not familiar. I enjoyed those, and loved almost all the songs that I knew, with the exception of one or two that made me cringe. I noticed that Bill Wyman was not with them anymore. I figured that he had died, but no, he had just left to do his own thing. I go back to the time before Ron Woods was a Stone. Charlie Watts looks exactly the same as always.

Is there something disturbing about 65+ year old men jumping around the stage or is there something more disturbing about one of their contemporaries enjoying the shit out of them jumping around making such great music. I couldn't decide. While I have always realized that these guys can put over guitar driven R and R unlike any other group, I never realized or maybe just didn't remember, until the credits, that virtually every song they have ever recorded was written by Jagger/Richards. Amazing. Thanks Anthony.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Fashion Update

I mentioned a while back that someone gave me the perfect word to explain the sudden proliferation of High Intensity Discharge (HID) arc lamp lights on the streets of Santiago. That word was Fashion and the more I think about it the more I realize that fashion is a very important concept in a country as poor as this. Especially cheap fashion. Whereas before nearly everyone was content to merely blind you with their bright lights that they always use at night, now in the unholy pursuit of "Fashion" an incredible number of drivers have installed the new, colored, extremely bright headlights. They are really a danger. Of course the driver's don't care, they are in fashion. The new lights come in a range of colors. First the blue lights appeared. They were quickly followed by the even brighter yellow lights, and last night I was absolutely blinded twice by an even brighter sort of pink/lilac headlight. I did a little research before I started writing this (I was, after all, the Research Editor at Poker Life Magazine until its demise) and found that these HID headlights were originally offered on a few luxury cars. They had a very defined field of illumination and were safe when used. Now the fashionistas have adopted them for all cars and of course, as with everything else here "the more the better" so the field of illumination has been increased to make sure that oncoming traffic is blinded. Turns out that most of the new headlights have tinted bulbs rather than being the true HID arc lamp. This form of headlight is illegal in the US. They are more blinding to oncoming traffic, but they illuminate less. The thing that I get the biggest kick out of is checking out the types of cars that have these new lights. First were the over sized SUV's. (On a side note, I would bet that this country has a disproportionate percentage of Hummers. I am not talking about blow jobs, although they may have a lot of people doing that also). Next to install the HIDs were the low slung fast street machines. You have to be either an idiot or a show off, or both to have a low riding car in a country that never repairs its roads. What happens here is that the holes get so big that eventually someone comes and fills them with rocks and small boulders. The weight of the cars and trucks passing over them eventually breaks them up and they fill the pothole. Of course, after a few rains the holes are back to their old condition. These lights have proliferated to the point where all the junkers have them in their effort to appear cool, and now the newest class of vehicle to have these lights are the motorbikes and scooters. I can't wait to see next week's color. Fashion. AHHH, its wonderful.

Side Effects Are.........

I never cease to be amazed by a commercial that I see on TV quite often. The ad is for a medicine called Abilify. It starts off by telling the benefits of the drug and it is able to list all the benefits within the first few seconds of the commercial. Basically they say that Abilify can help reach treatment goals for those taking another medication for Depression, Schizophrenia or Bipolar Disorder. Its a good thing that they can list its benefits in such a short period of time. The rest of the commercial is spent listing the side effects. I don't know if anyone else pays attention, but I have. Here, from Med TV website, are the side effects:

  • Headaches -- in up to 30 percent of people
  • Anxiety -- up to 20 percent
  • Insomnia -- up to 19 percent (see Abilify and Insomnia)
  • Nausea -- up to 16 percent
  • Constipation -- up to 13 percent
  • Vomiting -- up to 12 percent
  • Dizziness -- up to 11 percent
  • Indigestion or heartburn
  • Drowsiness
  • Shakiness (tremors)
  • Weight gain (see Abilify and Weight Gain)
  • Restlessness
  • Fatigue
  • Dry mouth (see Abilify and Dry Mouth)
  • Joint pain
  • Throat pain
  • Blurred vision
  • Abdominal pain (stomach pain)
  • Pain
  • Cough
  • Nasal congestion
  • Increased salivation
  • Swelling or water retention in the arms, legs, or feet.
  • Large or rapid weight gain
  • Suicidal thoughts
  • High blood pressure (hypertension)
  • Dizziness or fainting when going from a sitting or lying-down position to standing
  • Feelings of internal restlessness or jitteriness
  • Any abnormal muscle movements (these movements can become permanent if Abilify is not stopped quickly)
  • A painful erection of the penis that does not go away (priapism)
  • Signs or symptoms of neuroleptic malignant syndrome, which can include:
    • A high fever
    • Stiff muscles
    • Confusion
    • Irregular pulse or blood pressure
    • An increased heart rate (tachycardia)
    • Sweating
    • Irregular heart rhythms (arrhythmias)
  • Signs of an allergic reaction, including:
    • Unexplained rash
    • Hives
    • Itching
    • Unexplained swelling
    • Wheezing
    • Difficulty breathing or swallowing.
These less common Abilify side effects include but are not limited to:
OK, let's review this: No hard ons, super hard ons, thoughts of suicide, rapid weight gain, kidney stones (I've had them, you don't want them).... sounds like fun to me. While there are currently drugs out there like Percocet and Vicodan that people are taking to get high, somehow I can't see a cult growing up around Abilify. I can just imagine someone telling his friend about the great experiences he had while high on it. The conversation would have to be something like, "Yeah, man, and then after the fever and the sweating passed, I had the greatest ringing in my ears. And the vertigo, wow, I could hardly walk. There's no chance for boredom when you take this either. Between the itching, scratching, and just fighting to breathe, I didn't have a spare minute. And you wanna talk about new realizations and appreciation of your body? You get hemorrhoids like I did, you'll be more aware of your asshole than you could imagine. Dude, you gotta try this drug."

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Won't You Please Join Me

I have already done so, and I think that you should join me in this. Go to the AIG website, and send them an email. Mine reads:

Dear Sirs: Please go fuck yourselves, you greedy motherfuckers.

Thanks,

J


On an unrelated note; If you play poker I know you have shared the feelings expressed in this "movie", at one time or another:

http://www.xtranormal.com/watch?e=20090222182227485

Friday, March 13, 2009

Things That Don't Annoy Me Too Much

1) Evan....... How could I possibly complain about the only person ever to leave a comment, and a funny one at that? I was thinking of using, "And this song goes out to Betty in Passaic, who is thinking of Barry tonight" as the title for this special "Request" entry, but opted for something more subtle. At his suggestion.

To be continued............

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Why Do I Cry?

I never cry at a movie the first time I see it. After that, all bets are off.

BIG, one of Tom Hank's earliest movies is the story of a 13 year old boy, Josh, who wishes he could be big and thanks to a fortune telling machine that he encounters at a carnival, his wish is granted. As time goes by he starts to long for his family and, with it, his lost childhood. There is a scene towards the end where Josh goes back to his old neighborhood where he witnesses several things that remind him of his life as a kid. There are a couple of kids hitting and catching a baseball. The ball escapes the fielder and rolls to where Josh is standing. He picks it up and throws it back. One of the kids yells, "Thanks, mister". My daughter learned a long time ago that if she ever wanted to see her father cry all she had to do was to catch me watching BIG and wait for that scene. I figured out that I always cry at that moment because I am so jealous that he can go back to being a kid and I can't. It's strange because I don't cry when I try to enter my birth date to register for something online and I have to scroll down 3 times just to find the range of years in which my birth year (1945) appears.That should really get to me, but it doesn't. That part of the movie,however, always breaks me up.
I remember seeing Sleepless in Seattle in Dallas with a girl (Girl? All right, a topless dancer from the Men's Club of Dallas) I was seeing (seeing?). Bonnie and I went to see the movie the next week in New York. I clearly remember now, 15 years later, sitting in the theater, with the tears starting to well up at the opening scene at the cemetery where Tom Hanks wife is buried. I had to turn away to make sure I didn't have to explain getting teary eyed at a movie I had "never seen". Of course, I always cry when they meet at the top of the Empire State Building at the end of the movie. There is something about happy, improbable endings that gets to me.
The only time I came close to crying the first time I saw a movie was when I saw The Titanic. Hold it, stop right there. Anyone who believes that should stop reading immediately and go look for something else to read. This is not for you, asshole. Actually though, there was one movie which made me cry the first time I saw it, but not until I was about 15 minutes outside of the theater. That was Field Of Dreams. I think I related to Ray's (Kevin Costner) relationship with his father. He and his father never got along and at the end of the movie he gets a chance to make it right. I never did.
Lately the crying has gotten out of hand. Second Hand Lion and are Notting Hill, are both charming comedies. I need a Kleenex to watch either of them. One has the hero getting what he wants at the end (sob, sob) the other has both heroes die while flying a biplane upside down through a barn (sob, sob). OK, I can't explain that other than to say they are moving for me. The other day,however, I was watching the funniest movie of all time, Soap Dish. I have seen this movie more than 50 times. When my daughter needs cheering up, or she wants to make me laugh one of us will quote a line from this movie and it always has the desired effect. Don't ask me how, I could never explain it, but the last time I watched it, about two weeks ago, sure enough I found myself tearing up. This is starting to get out of control and it got me trying to figure out the real reason that I cry. I was thinking that maybe this is one of the signs of a depressed personality. Only I am not unhappy, and certainly not depressed. I can't figure it out. All you non readers out there, how about writing in and letting me know what you think. Now actually, that's depressing. No one reads this blog. Or maybe there are thousands out there reading this and they just don't know how to add comments. Yeah, that's it.


P.S. If the dominant instrument in a song that you are listening to is the trumpet, and you are not listening to jazz, the music you are listening to probably sucks.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Promote This Man

Cialis is an erectile dysfunction medication, like Viagra or Levitra. There is something in Cialis' advertising, however, that every time I hear it impresses me with it brilliance. Towards the end there are a couple of warnings. One of them probably makes this product irresistible. Imagine a man who has a problem with ED hearing that "you should consult a doctor if your erection lasts more than 4 hours." He hasn't had a hard on in 5 years and now someone is cautioning him about what to do if the hard on lasts too long? He's on the phone calling his doctor for a prescription right now. Whoever thought to include this "warning" in the add should be given a huge raise and/or promoted.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

And The Winners Are

Since I am now spending a lot of time driving around, I have decided to make make mention of the worst drivers that I encounter on a regular basis. Today I will only deal with highway driving. There are three types of drivers who qualify in the first category; Fastest drivers. First up in the truck category are the 18 wheelers. These freight bearing monsters come barrel assing down the highway. Most of them are out of aliighnment giving them, that"I'm almost going sideways look." Next up are the armored car brigades. These guys seem to travel in packs, especially on the autopista and they yield to no one.They drive as quickly as possible. Last of the three, and the most consistently driven in a dangerous manner are the Daihatsu Trucks. These must have a pretty rapid acceleration. These trucks being driven by men that don't have their own cars, so the truck becomes their car. Since it becomes their sole mode of getting around the the drivers, at some point, forget that they are trucks and start to treat them like cars. They are quick off the line and never give an inch. All three groups are huge contributors to the air pollution from which we suffer. I came up with a fool proof system to eliminate the smoke from these trucks, I just need someone to implement it. It would be a very simple thing to correct. Just pull over one of these smoke bombs and attach a tube that would run from the exhaust pipe, right into the cabin where the driver sits. I am sure that if the driver had to breathe the foul smoky pollution that he leaves behind he would pull into a shop to correct the problem within 5 minutes.

It Is With Great Pride

I didn't play Poker on Monday night. The casino runs these "No Entry fee" tournaments that run from 6 P.M. until 11 or so, and the noise is very bothersome. More importantly, the live cash game starts late because of the tourney. When it does finally start it is always after 9 and I like to play in a non-hurried fashion. Knowing that I have to leave at 11 or 12 puts undue pressure on me to play. I have set up a schedule with Massiel under which I play regularly on Monday and Wednesday and one or two other nights on the weekend. Tuesdays have been reserved for The Biggest Loser. I am really enjoying the cast on Biggest Loser on Tuesdays this year. As I have written previously, the dramamercials are turning me off, so I made the decision to switch nights. I don't know the Monday night programs so I surfed for a while and decided I would get an idea of what Dancing With the Stars is like. I am proud to say that other than the host, and Lawrence Taylor, the best football linebacker of all time, I recognized absolutely no one on the show. Considering how popular the show is, and what a well known cast they always have, I was delighted that I recognized no one.

Michele And The Pigs


My daughter, Michele, is nothing like either her father or her mother. She is a smart, attractive, sensitive young woman who is marrying Michael, her equal, this October. I could not be happier for either of them. A couple of Michele stories:

1) While not a vegetarian, somewhere along the way, Michele decided that she did not want to eat red meat. I thought that she never ate any meat, but I discovered that she will occasionally taste a piece of steak if Michael orders it when they go out. And even then he has to sell her on "how great it is, blah, blah, blah, etc". Michele had to present a poster at a Psychology meeting in D.C. recently and while there she went to visit my sister, Mara. Mara told her early on that they were having steak for dinner and Michele, rather than seem the ungracious guest, silently sat and ate her meal without ever saying a word.

2) I am not overly loud while in public, but no one would ever describe me as a shrinking violet either. Michele was always the smallest in her class and usually the youngest. She always had a fear of being noticed. I cannot remember why, but I can remember many times I would be doing something like talking loudly or arguing with someone, and Michele pulling on my arm saying, "Daddy, stop, they are looking at me"

3) Being a gentle soul the idea of any sort of violence has always been abhorrent to her. The idea that animals are killed in order that they can eventually be cooked, or eaten is something that she cannot deal with. A couple of years ago, on one of her infrequent visits to the DR, we were driving somewhere and we came across a truck loaded with pigs. Michele pointed to the truck and made a comment about how sad it made her to see them. I told her that there was nothing to be sad about. I told that they were the property of a kindly farmer who every so often took them out for a ride to see the countryside. That made her feel much better. I told this story to Rafael, the owner of the factory where we make our bras and he thought that this was hysterical. One day while riding with Rafael we came across a truck similarly loaded only this time there were two levels. Rafael, remembering the story, told me that the pigs on the upper level were paying extra to ride first class. Today, while driving to the factory, I got a chance to take the above picture of the two class touring pig truck.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Random Thoughts

Is there a conspiracy afoot to make people buy larger sizes?

I went shopping yesterday to buy some shorts. I used to wear size 36. I could not even close the button on that size. I compared the ones I was looking at to what I was wearing. The size 38 was actually a little smaller than the size 36 I was wearing. The only thing that I could think of was that maybe the shorts I had on had been stretched out by my "Apple on a stick" look. That's how Michele once described me.

Is peace and quiet only for the rich, or is it for no one, because it sure as shit isn't for the poor?

We went to Moca today to visit a friend of Massiel's. She lives in a not great section of Moca. Not really horrible, but not great. The reggaeton music, the car noise and of course the omnipresent noise of roosters started me thinking. I have lived in 5 locations in Santiago in ten years. Nowhere have I ever had peace and quiet. The first Santiago apartment was near a park, a pretty good area and that was reasonably tranquil, sometimes. After that it was one noisy experience after another. As I am writing this I am being forced to listen to a Fernando Villalona concert, thanks to a neighbor. The lack of consideration shown is amazing.

Where can I get one of those.

I always make sure that I have a bunch of coins in the car. I usually empty out my pockets and keep the coins handy. Why? There are so many traffic lights in the area where beggars congregate. This is the sole support of hundreds, maybe thousands, of people. When the light turns read they swarm the cars. Some are flat out beggars, while others offer to perform a service ( for example; to clean your window whether or not it is dirty) or to sell you something that you don't need. Some represent themselves as representatives of people with drug problems who are there to help. Others are people in the most horrible physical condition (twisted bodies, blind,missing limbs, or horribly deformed apparently from birth). Usually these people are assisted by someone as they are incapable of movement on their own. Their condition is so pathetic that it is impossible for me to not give them something. These particularly unfortunate people seem to "do well". I was watching the face of one of the "drug helpers". No one had bought anything from him and he was watching jealously as one of the really needed was getting something from everyone and I couldn't help but think that the only thing he was thinking was, "How do I get one of those"?

I have seen lots of young mothers but I am sure that not all mothers here are 14.

While I was shopping for the shorts yesterday Massiel was looking to buy a couple of Maternity tops. I have gone with her before and amazingly we always face the same problem. Either all the large size women get to the stores before we do, or all the pregnant women of Santiago are a size small. In the three stores to which I have accompanied Massiel there were no (0) size XL tops one or two size Large, a couple of mediums, but as many Small and X-Small tops as you could want. What about normal size people? Do they all wear hand-me-downs?

Where do they get them?

I have worn hats regularly since 1981. I am sure I started a little before that, but I know that I started to actively collect, and wear, caps starting in the early 80's. I had an office with a floor to ceiling window that I could use as a showing area. It was equipped with a grid on two walls for merchandise display, and I used one of them full time to display my hats. Caps have become an important part of men's clothing. I currently have about 50 in my apartment and am sure I would have a lot more if I still lived in the US. I usually buy 4 or 5 on each trip that I make back to New York. I have always prided myself on not being seen in a hat that anyone else has. I wear US caps here and DR caps in the US. I am struck by the way in which younger people wear their hats. I understand it is part of the hiphop fashion to wear your hat in such a distinctive manner, but every so often I will stop someone, if he doesn't seem too menacing, and ask him wear I can buy a hat that has the brim on the side, as his does. After all, I explain, every hat I ever see has the brim in the front.

You will take my call!!!

I can't tell you how many times I have been in the company of someone who receives a phone call, looks at the caller ID and then ignores it. My friend Sal and I are the only two people that we know who will take everyone's call. Want to talk to me? Call me, I will answer if it rings. I always imagine calling someone, them looking to find out that it is me and deciding that for whatever the reason, they won't take the call. Fuck that. If I am making the effort to call, answer it. When someone doesn't take my call that I have made from my cell phone, I will call from the office phone, my house phone, Massiel's phone, a phone that I carry around only for the purpose of disguising my ID or if necessary I will borrow a phone. It's amazing how sometimes people judge themselves too busy to take a call, regardless of who is calling, even if they think it might important, but let the call be from a number that they don't recognize and you are as good as talking to them. You will take my call!!!! I promise.

In all my years of dating women I have never dated one that owned a leopard skin blouse.

Nothing to add to that one.

7 Reasons Why NBC Sucks

It's Sunday morning and I was getting ready for the news programs that I usually watch and I realized that I don't enjoy these shows as much as I used. One reason for this is new host at Meet the Press, after the death of Tim Russert. It started me thinking about the changes I have made in my viewing habits and their cause. At one time I probably spent more time watching the NBC than I spent watching all the other networks combined. They were the nuts. They WERE. Now they are just NUTS. What kind of idiots are running this network?
1) Tim Russert was a special man. I loved to watch him on Meet the Press. He just generated a sense of sincerity. He was real. When he died, there was a perceptible sense of loss that was shared by many. David Gregory always struck me as someone more interested in personal aggrandizement than in representing his network. I remember him as the White House correspondent. I didn't like him then and don't like him now.
2) I always thought that Jay Leno was really funny, but somehow when he took over the night show he didn't immediately click with me. Part of the problem were the stories that I read about how he outmaneuvered David Letterman to get the show and also I think maybe it was his handshaking routine at the beginning of every show. Seemed kind of phony. I got over it after a while, and started to enjoys the show. At the very least, I always watched his monologue. He's a great comedian. I preferred David Letterman's interviewing skills. His were always a bit edgier than those of anyone else. But here in the DR, for some reason, most cable companies don't carry CBS so Letterman is not an option.
In fear of losing the talent (?) of Conan O'brien the network forced Leno out as the host of The Tonight Show. Sorry, maybe I am too old. I don't think Conan O'brien is that funny. His humor is too forced for my taste His humor seems more to do with doing funny things than saying funny things. If I want a lot of physical humor I can watch the Three Stooges. Good thing that the network kept Leno by giving him a prime time show. When Conan bombs as the new Tonight Show host, Leno will be there ready and waiting.
3) Jimmy Fallon so far has shown nothing. I don't think he is strong enough comically. I can't tell you who should have replaced Leno, but I can tell you who shouldn't have.
4) NBC has become the network of dramatic commercial (drammercial) moments. I think it started with Deal or No Deal. As the contestant was coming to a particularly crucial moment, be it opening a case or receiving a offer from "The Banker", Howie Mandel would stall and then say, " and we'll do that right after this message". The audience would moan. It worked for a while. Then it became kind of obvious as to when it was going to happen and it started to become annoying, not so much because you had to wait another couple of minutes to find out what was going to happen, but rather, because it was obvious that someone thought that a "bit" that had been milked to death was still clever. Now that Deal is on twice a day that phony dramatic pause happens ten time as often as before. Now, that dramatic commercial break has spread to other programs. Biggest Loser uses this annoying ploy at for at least 4 or 5 commercials per show. No team challenge ever ends without pounding music followed by a cutaway. Even more annoying is that when the show comes back they show at least the last 30 seconds that they showed before they cut away for their drammercial. Once the weigh in starts, the drammercials take over the show and continue until I get to the point where I don't care. That's a shame because I like the show a lot. This year they have great, caring contestants. A couple of times I have shut it off and called my daughter later on to find out the results.
5) You may have to have seen the movie to understand this next issue, but someone must have really loved The Truman Show and been inspired by it. Truman's "wife" constantly promotes products, by seeming to talk to Truman, but really addressing the viewing audience. He doesn't catch on. I did. This happens on every episode of Biggest Loser. It's so obvious. There is always a heart to heart talk between either the tattooed monkey or his female counterpart and some of the contestants. Does the network count this as one of the commercials in the show or is this a freebee thrown in to sweeten the pot for the advertisers? There should be some sort of disclaimer. Just as obvious is the commercial value of the projects on Celebrity Apprentice. Almost all are there to promote a product. I'd rather watch The Truman Show.
6) Hoda Kotb and Kathy Lee. (Kotb)? Does that have something to do with (the New) K ids O n T he B lock?) Smarmy and smarmy plus. If you don't know the word, look it up. It really defines these two.
7) Finally, as a resident of the DR, I am not allowed to watch NBC programs on the web. I can watch CBS, ABC, and TBS, to name a few, but NBC's programming for some reason is not available to me. I get a message that says, "we're sorry but the clip you have selected isn't available from your location". Every other network let's me watch except NBC, but NBC is convincing me by their programming that there really isn't much to watch there anymore.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

A Serious Problem Discovered While Trying To Write An Interesting Blog

I have no fucking life. I am a character in a Bizarro World version of Groundhog Day.

I really enjoy writing. I have always felt that I write well. Nobody ever reads this, or at least no one ever leaves a comment to let me know that they are reading this so I guess I'm the only capable of judging my work and as I said, I have always felt that I write well. I have always felt that if I had a story to write, I could really do a hell of a job writing it. Years ago, even before I moved to the DR I said that to my daughter and she bought me a journal to write in. I still have it. It is still in its original wrapping. As the funniest person that I know, I am sure that the actual writing of the story, while laborious, would be a lot of fun filled with comical, hysterical observations and ideas. Unfortunately, I have never had that story in my head. I have suffered from permanent writer's block for my entire life. Here I am with this great sense of humor, wonderful command of the English language (there is a $10 reward to anyone who ever discovers a dangling participle), 50 words per minute typing skill, and NOTHING TO SAY.

Let me let you in on a secret. I just went back and changed the offer from $20 to $10. Why did I do that if no one ever reads this?

OK, so now I write a blog. I try to write every day, but coming up with subjects is a problem. I don't want this to be a place just for whining, and talking about my Poker experiences would be relatively boring. For example; I caught a friend's girlfriend cheating last night and got into a heated argument with her. She was telling someone with top pair to call my re raise. He did, and I won more money than I would have if he had done what he wanted to do, which was to fold. Fascinating stuff, huh?

I read a few blogs on a regular basis. They seem to have a lot more going on in their lives than I do, which might be due to the fact that I live in Santiago and they live in the real world. For me right now the problem is that the sewing business that I am involved in is slow, and I have nothing to do at the factory, even though I go every day, I play Poker online every day, somehow always managing to stay even, and while I spend great non Poker evenings with Massiel, I do get bored watching TV with her ( I am out of the room for her soaps).

I wanted to write something today and I did. Thanks for not reading it.