The Salty Balti, New Yak city

Get em' O's...
Taking a break from prepping the old portfolio to write for a spell.

Hanging out with my sister Kim and her cat C-Lotus in Baltimore (calling the cat Clotus will not be tolerated by either party). Wimbledon was on earlier. Serena Williams used her mammoth glutes to big girl Bethanie Mattek off the court.





Then Full House came on, and Kim told me that the actress that played Stephanie got hooked on the meth (true) and DJ is all up on Jesus now (true). Uncle Jessie plays on some run-of-the-mill hospital show (debatable), Bob Saget refuses to use humor during his stand up routines (guitars are no substitute for the funny) and Dave Collier cut it out (false...it is fully intact).

About to go eat lunch and go print out my portfolio for an interview tomorrow in NY. There I will sleep on Frank's couch and in the morning I will hunt C.H.U.Ds in the sewer until it is time for my interview. I will present the first person I meet at the agency with the head of a C.H.U.D as a sign of peace. If I find an alligator in the sewer I will name it CrocCab and charge people large pieces of fish for rides.




That's about all the nonsense I can muster...until next time.

Party's over

"One love, one life, one too many victims. Republicrat, Democran, one party system" -Sage Fracis

I think I'm finally prepared to declare myself an independent. You could confuse me for a liberal I guess, but cheering for the Democrats seems an awful lot like being a Chicago Cubs fan. Half the fun is in the misery.

This series of clips probably did more to provoke my decision than anything else. Have you watched political television or listened to talk radio recently? It really isn't too far from this. Both sides yelling and swearing that all of the nation's problems are on the other guy's team. Ralph Nader caught a lot of guff in 2000 for saying that there wasn't a dime worth of difference between the two major parties. Granted, those distributing the guff were also trying to promote one of the two favored candidates.

As a new card carrying independent (I keep it in my wallet in between my NRA membership and my Pizza Delivery Drivers Union card) I don't really feel like casting a vote for either of these two parties. I've only voted for a major party once. That was in '04 under the belief of voting for the lesser of two jokers. The bigger joker won. Now faced with two brand new jokers I don't understand how people can invest so much, time, energy, money and heart into either of the parties. They want your vote, they want your money, they want your help as a vessel for their message and careers. Personally, I really don't see what there is to be gained by declaring yourself a conservative or a liberal. At best. it's a convenient label that reduces the time it takes for me to judge you. At worst, you are making it easier for people to manipulate your feelings and actions.

Every once in awhile I tune in to staunch the screaming, old school conservative Micheal Savage. Say what you want to about this guy, but he is brutally genuine. I rarely agree with him, but I was fortunate enough to turn on the radio in time to hear grandpa regale the nation with this story. In this tale he positions himself as a the frog and the Republican party as the scorpion. The idea is pretty much the party has used him in the past to boost their numbers and agenda. What makes this metaphor so powerful is that it fits for many people and many parties around the world. Enjoy:

A frog on his way to the creek came upon a scorpion waiting at the shore. The scorpion cried out “Frog, I cannot swim, but if you let me ride you across the street not only would you be saving my life but I promise not to sting you”. After a short discussion the frog was convinced that he should do a good deed and help the scorpion across the water. After a few moments the two were safely across the creek. As the frog made it to land the scorpion quickly stung the frog. “Scorpion…” said the Frog “Why did you lie, why did you sting me after I carried you across the creek. The scorpion replied, “Because I’m a scorpion and I can.”

Friday the 13th

Quick story time. Friday the 13th came and went and even though I wasn’t killed with a pair of hedge clippers or a post-hole digger I did experience some bad luck. After spending Thursday night (one of my few days off) drinking a Heineken and playing Mario Kart Wii, I was determined to go out and socialize Friday night. Everything started okay, but as the night was coming to an end I got a call from my sister and had to journey down to Shockoe Bottom. While waiting to meet her I parallel parked and watched the bars empty out. As the numerous bad cars, with bad music cruised by giving me bad looks I heard a girl shout in the distance “Well, I don’t care I gotta pee!” I ignored this declaration, but then noticed in the corner of my eye a scantily clad harlot approaching. She was determined, she was energetic, she was drunk. Before I could protest she…how do I say this with class…she popped a squat right in front of my car. I just bought this car about a month ago and I’ll be damnned if some boozed up tart was going to be the first to pee on my ride. As I went to yell something to the effect of “Hey stop leaking hour old Bud Light on my car!” Her boyfriend saw me in the car and yelled at her “Yo, B-boy in the car!” Startled, but not phased she continued while her boyfriend acted as a shield from public view. Which wasn’t working nearly as well as he had hoped, being traffic was still flowing next to us and everybody was rubbernecking like there was a police car on fire. Here comes the kicker(s). After she used her sniper like accuracy to pinpoint her urine between my car and the other parked in front, her boyfriend and I exchanged a prison visit like fist bump through the windshield. The horror was not over though. She pulled up her knickers and then ran over to the driver side of my car. Before I could lurch forward and pin her between the two cars, she quickly lunged inside my car and gave me a hug. I think I would have preferred a post-hole digger in the spine.


So yeah…that was my Friday night.

Step up your road turtle game son!

"Anytime you see a turtle on top a of a fence post, you know he had some help" - Alex Haley

Went on vacation to the Outer Banks about a week ago, and managed to return without a white oval bumper sticker expressing an abbreviation of the place I had just visited. I rode down with my friend Ephrim and I was shocked to see that he had gone back in time and stole all the CDs I had in high school. While glossing over “his” CD collection and slyly slipping in a few select albums into my book bag, I heard the last thing anyone in a car wants to hear. The cry of screeching tires coupled with an abrupt and aggressive “FUCK!” from the driver. I looked up and all I saw was a turtle trying to make his way across the interstate. There was a reason they decided to make the video game Frogger and not Turtler. The game play would have suffered tremendously and the name is just awful. I’m not sure if the turtle had a death wish, was trying to win a drunken bet, or was just trying to piggyback on one of the most reliable chicken jokes of all time, but the outcome wasn’t good. I hate hitting animals while driving (during a brisk run or bike ride is preferred), and the memory of the turtle and I locking eyes before his demise reminded me of my long lost friend Toejam.

Toejam the box turtle was my first pet when I was about 10 years old. Men in a hurry call him TJ for the sake of brevity. I can only imagine that I chose to get a turtle after the success of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon that I watched religiously. Toejam was a pretty easy pet I’ll admit. Just keep his sawdust fresh and share an apple with him and he was all smiles. We had a pretty good relationship…or so I thought. One day while cleaning out his tank, I sat him on the ground outside to stretch his legs. My dad called me inside for some reason, most likely to find the remote or in some way misinform me about the habits of white people. Whatever the case when I returned to put ToeJam back in the tank, he had jetted. I’d say his legs were good and stretched. So yes, my pet turtle ran away. I don’t know why he chose to leave, but I’m sure he went to greener pastures.

The death of that turtle a few weeks ago reinvigorated my love for the reptile. I have set a personal goal of assisting 10 turtles across the street by summer’s end. These guys are royally screwed, so now when I’m driving on country roads I keep an eye constantly searching for road turtles. Note to turtles: When I’m risking my well-being and the structural integrity of my car to lend you a hand, some gratitude would be nice. Hissing at me like a scaly cat won’t get you across the street any faster. I would love some competition and since I don’t have a picture of the first turtle saved we can work on the honor system. Just make sure you move the turtle the direction he was heading. Unless he/she is in the middle of a juke move to elude traffic long passed, then you may need to ask the shelled pedestrian his destination. You never know, turtles live a long time. You may just be helping ol’ Toejam get home.