NYC

Things I Didn’t Know Until Last Night/This Morning

Did you know that if your car’s stolen, you have to call 911? My first impulse was to call the local precinct. As much as having your car stolen might be a lifestyle crisis and an emotional trauma, it doesn’t qualify as an emergency in my book. At least not on the level I associate with a 911 call. But the dispatcher told me to call 911, so I did as I was told.

Did you know that you can call up 911 and hear weird fax noises instead of a real person? I seriously doubt “911” is close to any kind of modem number, but that’s what I heard on my first try.

Did you know the 911 dispatcher will not ask you where your car was stolen from, but where you are? I guess that makes sense in a way, but I figured this piece of info was vital to the whole process.

Did you know that you could wait for 2+ hours for the police to arrive? After sitting by my front window for a small eternity, I actually called 911 again to check up on it (I called the local precinct first, but they didn’t pick up at all–a comforting thought). Even more amazing, when I called back, the dispatcher was apologetic. “I’m so sorry for any inconvenience”, she said, as if I’d been put on hold while trying to order a mattress.

Did you know that they’ll send two cops out in one large squad van? Seems like a waste of gas/space to me. You could’ve comfortably seated a softball team in this thing, but it was occupied by just two officers and their equipment bags.

Did you know that a nightstick sheathed in the straps of a NYPD duffel bag looks really frightening? Don’t ask me why.

Did you know that early-90s cars are in high demand at chop shops? Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine my 1990 Olds would be a target for theft. But the cops informed me that it “fits the profile” of cars swiped for parts these days. It makes sense, I suppose–a lot of those cars are still on the road, and in need of frequent repair. It was also in fairly good condition, both operation-wise and aesthetically–other than a mismatched replacement bumper, which, in my opinion, gave the car character. So in retrospect, even though I had no fear of my car ever being stolen,

Did you know that it’s a bad idea to park your car near a highway access road? Even one lined with houses? A thief can use said access road to get on the highway and be ten miles away before you blink. So even if it’s late on a Sunday night and you’re tired and there’s no other spaces near your house, don’t park there. This would’ve occurred to me–if it had also occurred to me that my car was enticing to thieves (see above).

Did you know the cops will drive you around to look for your car, assuming you just forgot where you parked it? Believe me, this was the first thought that crossed my mind. But I had very clear memories of parking the car where I did, because I seldom park that far from my house. I indulged the cops, because it couldn’t hurt to look around the neighborhood, but I had little hope of finding it. Based on my description, they pointed out every boat-sized car in a five-block radius, and I had to sadly inform them that none of these behemoths were my car.

Did you know there are Indian cops? I met one! I grew up in a Cop Town, and I see cops of every ethnic variety on the streets all the time, but this was the first cop of the Indian persuasion I’d met. Actually, I can’t definitively say he was Indian, but he did seem to hail from the Subcontinent. Then again, he could have also been from a Caribbean nation with a large Indian immigrant population (say, Trinidad). Then again, is any of this remarkable at all? What difference does it make where the man is from?

Did you know that I’m vaguely racist? At least I feel so after writing that last paragraph.

Did you know that staring at your vehicle/registration information on a laptop in a squad van feels upsetting and Big Brother-ish? I tried to look away as I waited for paperwork/procedure to be finished, but there was nothing else to look at, except for a space on the block where my car was supposed to be. I expected to see my name followed by the word DOUBLEPLUSUNGOOD.

Did you know it costs an assload of money to ship a toddler’s car seat? Looks like I’ll be taking the bus back from Babys R Us some time this week. Sure looking forward to that.

Did you know that, the next morning on the bus, you’ll stare out the window constantly, as if you’re going to see your car sitting on the curb somewhere? And you’ll even take your keys with you so you can hop out and take it home where it belongs? Don’t bother, ’cause your car is down to the axles by now.

Did you know I got that car from my grandfather? And that I’d left a bunch of his stuff in there? A small rosary that hung from the gear shift. A pair of very large sunglasses. A small notepad where he wrote down the date and odometer reading every time he filled the gas tank. I didn’t want to disturb any of these items, because I always felt it wasn’t really my car; it was his and I was just borrowing it. If I had the slightest suspicion that it would be stolen someday, I definitely would have taken these things out.

Especially the notepad. It was such a classic Grampa thing. I can see him writing in it, on a million different trips we took, whether it was to Cooperstown or Niagara Falls or just into town to get pizza. He wouldn’t start the car again until he made his note.

Did you know that if his car was stolen, but I still had that notepad, I’d feel a lot better this morning?

Politics Schmolitics

John Boehner Defends His Art

boehner.jpgI’m sick of all this criticism of the charts and graphs in the Republican budget plan. I thought the liberal media would be able to recognize the aesthetic reality we were going for. But obviously, I have to explain myself to you philistines.

Unlike the President, Republicans have no interest in the showy maximalism of Shepherd Fairey. The pop culture references, the retro-Soviet imagery, the cold, angular typefaces–ugh, it makes me cringe!

Have you read the President’s budget? It’s incomprehensible! What font did he use for this thing? I wouldn’t be surprised to see overlapping type in here, like some horrible early 90s music rag. I thought we were all over David Carson, but I guess some of us aren’t!

No, Republicans harken back to the sleek minimalism of Milton Glaser. Like “I Heart NY”, one of the most successful ad campaigns of all time. That art was such a perfect synthesis of simplicity and complication, it almost quelled the burning hatred I have for New York and all its out-of-touch liberal elites. And its hopelessly navel-gazing art world.

Is our art simple? I would ask, Is a line simple? It depends on where the line comes from, and where it leads to. A line means nothing, but a line means everything. I would think you would all know that by now.

I shouldn’t have to explain the Republican budget plan to you people. It should stand on its own, and if you had even the most rudimentary grounding in art and graphic design, you would know that!

God, I haven’t been this mad since I went to the last Matthew Barney exhibit!

Baseball, Inappropriate Walkup Music 2009

Inappropriate Walk Up Music: 03.30.09

santo-shea.jpgFor previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up
music.

These are not necessarily bad songs–although that
certainly helps. They are merely songs that don’t evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20… The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter’s box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* “Nothing Natural”, Lush
This choice is a not-at-all-veiled excuse for me to post the video for a song I loved once upon a time. In the early 90s, just prior to the arrival of Nirvana, 120 Minutes was chock full o’ English shoegazer bands that I liked a lot (this would be the Dave Kendall years, not the Kennedy years). Mind you, I didn’t actually have cable at this time. I basically begged my more fortunate grandparents (who lived next door) to let me monopolize their VCR, for taping both this and Mystery Science Theatre 3000. They basically weren’t watching TV when 120 Minutes or MST3K were on anyway, and they trusted me to not tape anything porn-arific.

Lush would later mutate into a much more poppy outfit. Or did they want to be poppy along and did the shoegaze thing to fit in with the 1991 music scene? In either case, I like this version better. Sheets of noise, cooing vocals–kinda like a more aesthetically pleasing My Bloody Valentine (more pleasing to me, anyway).

* “Rubber Car”, Enon
I loved this when it came out in the early Oughts. It’s like some mutant industrial Prince song. Haven’t really dug any other Enon tunes since then, but maybe that’s because this is so awesome taht everything else pales in comparison. I would love to see a stadium reverberate with RUBBA CAR!

* “Bumble Boogie”, LIberace
I’m always a little suspicious when an artist passes from complete pop acceptance to universal derision. I think it’s defense mechanism put on by people who realize that they bought into something that’s no longer popular, so they have to be extra-harsh in their denunciation so no one suspects their Dirty Secret. Like Vanilla Ice, who’s a walking joke, even though he sold more than 10 million albums. Somebody bought them CDs, people.

Earlier case in point: Liberace. He’s a punchline nowadays for a million different reasons. But in the 1950s and 60s, he was HUGE. Like, Elvis and Sinatra Huge, just for a different audience. So to me, people’s reactions to him have less to do with opinions formed by actually listening to his music (since he’s not someone you exactly hear on the radio all the time), but by the collective embarrassment of, “Jeez, we liked THAT?”

Then again, having watched this video, I can’t say I blame people for covering their tracks. There’s just so much weirdness here. Like, turning “Flight of the Bumblebee” into a Fats Waller-style piano romp. And a fey, super-white guy doing a Fats Waller-style piano romp. And the out-of-nowhere emergence of a string quartet. It contains all the aggressive weirdness of something that has no idea how weird it is. Sadly, Liberace does not mention his brother George.

A potentially explosive collection of verbal irritants