Bad Engrish

The other day I sent an e-mail to my brother Dave who is currently stationed in Djibouti. In the e-mail I included this Satan's Laundromat link. I love seeing mangled english and apparently I am not the only one.

After I sent the e-mail, for some reason I began thinking that making light of non-English speakers inadvertantly twisting the language might be a tad culturally imperialistic (can you tell I took political science classes in college...years of debt just to be able to drop the term like culturally imperialistic into a sentence!)

I felt bad for about eleven minutes and then I realize that everyone in every culture would make fun of a non-native speaker destroying their beloved language. For instance, I know that every Spanish-speaking person I encounter will likely mock me when I describe everything as "mas fina"...pantalones mas fina, cerveza mas fina, el diablo mas fina. Trust me if I could master a second adjective I would gladly apply that to every spanish noun in lieu of "mas fina"...maybe someday.

I began trying to mentally investigate where I developped this appreciation for mangled english. Ironically, I saw as one of the major influences in this direction was my brother Dave...

My brother Dave is thirteen years older than me, so when he was a young adult I was still very much an impressionable kid.

If I remember correctly, Dave was in his mid-twenties when in addition to grad school and full-time job he signed up to be a door-to-door advertisement distributor. When he could not fit this part-time job into his schedule, or had a particulary large route to deliver, he would sub-contract his duties to his younger brothers.

As a way to make a little money, I was seduced into helping out.

The basic concept of the job was to go to every house in particular neighborhood and hang a plastic envelope that had an advertisement for a local business held within it. For city-dwellers, imagine the guy standing on the street corner handing out fliers...now imagine him coming to your front door to hang the advertisement you have no interest in on your doorknob...now imagine that it is a punky eleven year old who may potentially step on your well-manicured front lawn.

The job was a dream for anyone who had a future in sociology. You definitely got to see human behavior in relation to their "personal space" being invaded. When you went into the wealthy neighborhoods the residents would look at you suspiciously and wonder if you might defile one of their precious blades of grass or steal some of their property. When you went into the poor neighborhoods the residents would look at you suspiciously and wonder if you were going to steal some of their property. Best of both worlds.

One day Dave and I were delivering ads in the poor neighborhood called Belmont. When I was on my section of the route I came across house with a doorknob that, in barely legible hand-written pencil, said "Hang No Ads". I immediately started laughing hysterically. I got such great satisfaction because, other than being obviously retarded and funny, I knew that when I described it to my brother he would get a kick out of it as well.

When I reconnected with Dave I told him about the doorknob, and as expected, he thought it was a riot. I swear that for the rest of the day we repeated the phrase "Hang No Ads" back to each other about forty times. From that day forward, whenever we would come across a particularly shady residence I would just say "Hang No Ads" and we would begin laughing about it as if it were the first time we encountered it...

The Greatest Actor Of Our Generation

I have come to the conclusion that I am the greatest actor of our generation. How have I determined this you ask?

Well, the fact that I can keep a straight face while, on more than one occaision, my boss verbally mangles the phrases "...fall on deaf ears" and "...turn a blind eye" into "...fall on deaf eyes" proves my prowess.

Let's see Phillip Seymour Hoffman do that.

Off The Wagon

Got an e-mail today from my friend Geoff telling me to pick up the current issue of Metropolis. The architectural firm he works at did the interiors at the new Bloomberg building...and the interiors got a cover story.

Now having someone suggest I go into a magazine store is equivalent to urging a crackhead to go to the crackhouse and buy one crackrock...I mean it is just plain dangerous.

Lately I have been pretty good with my magazine addiction. I strongly question every purchase ("Am I just buying this for one article that I could read online?")...If I am forced to buy one of those ridiculously overpriced fashion/art/design/architecture magazines I always scour the homeless magazine sellers on Sixth Avenue to see if they have a copy "in stock".

So I decide I am going to go to a magazine store and buy ONLY the issue of Metropolis that was suggested. I went to three stores and no one had the November issue. It was raining and I was in a hurry to get home but I decided to try this tiny storefront magazine stand on West 3rd between Sixth and Macdougal. This stand has some sort of tie to the street kiosk magazine stand just down the block from me on Thompson St...I don't know if the same family owns both...or if the a group of Pakistani friends trade shifts working at either location...I have never pinpointed the connection.

Tonight, when I walk into the storefront I look up at the cashier and I recognize him from working at the other location years ago. The first words out of his mouth were "Long time, no see". Great...I was such a free-spending customer back in the day that years later he is able to recognize me.

Instead of being embarassed at over-the-top-ness of my magazine addiction, I should be delighted that he still recognizes a valued customer...after all, I probably pumped enough money into his business over the years to send his children to Harvard....

Word Of The Day

Nacreous

Came across this word in a display at the Center for Architecture around the corner from my apt. Not only did I not know it's meaning, I had never heard it before. Rest assured I will be dropping it in to any and all conversations going forward.

Random Brightness

I was out running errands today. When I was about a block from my apartment building I look up and see my friend Timmy. Nothing strange about that, except for the fact that it had at least been 3 years since I had seen him.

That is one of the downsides of living in this city. It seems like it is too easy for relationships to drift apart. People are busy trying to make enough money to afford living here that human connections suffer...couple of missed dates...a few phonecalls go unreturned ...and then all of the sudden it has been years since you have talked to a friend.

While this is definitely the situation regarding me and Timmy, I am choosing to look at the bright side of the situation...the fact that within 4 seconds of making eye-contact with each other we were hugging and kissing and "carrying on" as if the 3 year absence had never happened...

School Is In Session

Went to Cielo last night for a new party called Master Class. The promoters are billing the party as a chance for legendary DJs to be in a small environment and go to the roots of House music.

It doesn't get much more legendary than the inaugural DJ... Junior Vasquez. While "chatting up" a cute boy in line to get in I determined that it had been at least a couple of years since I heard Junior. After last night it certainly won't be that long before I hear him again.

He punished the Children last night..."Get Your Hands Off My Man","Plastic Dreams", "X", "So Get Up", "Your Child"...just some of the Sound Factory gems he brought out. The crowd was very much there to hear this music...an amazing vibe. It was the type of party that, when I was about to pick up my jacket at the Coat Check and call it a night, I heard the opening chords of DJ Pierre's "Atom Bomb" and I knew I had to get out of line and return to the dancefloor. Scorching...

The Fastest Slowest Day

Due to the ridiculously rainy weather, lack of sleep, and the inept staff at the Apple store I got very little accomplished today.

Can't even summon the energy for an interesting blog entry.

There is always tomorrow.

Things I Call "Bullshit" On...(Partial List)

Lactose Intolerance and 98% of all "food allergies"...Recycling...Anti-biotics..."Designer" T-shirts, "Designer" Jeans, basically anything with the word "Designer" attached to it...Transexualism

Defending Icons

A couple of weeks ago I saw this twenty-something guy wearing a black t-shirt with the cover of Joy Division's "Unknown Pleasures" printed on it. There were two strange things about it...first, the guy did not look like the "typical" Joy Division fan and secondly, the t-shirt just had the graphic on it without having any of the text.
After passing the guy I began to develop a conspiracy theory that someone was printing the shirt to sell to trendy people.

A few days later, a young woman came into work wearing the same shirt except it was even more "fashion-ized"...cut for a wider neckline and cinched at the shoulders.

To test my theory and to be a jerk I asked her if she was a Joy Division fan. She looked a bit perplexed while I pointed to the graphic on her shirt. Her befuddled response was "...oh, I am kind of dumb about things like that". As a living public service announcement I informed her that Joy Division was a band.

I wonder if 50 years from now you will be able to sell a t-shirt with a swastika to trendy youth who know none of the history, but just think it "looks cool".