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Showing posts from 2007

Time to Short Carrie Underwood

Having been on board since her American Idol win, I think it's time to short Carrie Underwood. While I agreed with Simon Cowell's early prediction that Carrie would out sell Kelly Clarkson, I fear now that her lack of humility will cost her market share, much the way Clarkson's did when she spurned Clive Davis. A friend of mine who lives in Nashville tells me Carrie has a reputation of being "hard to deal with" and her recent comments at the American Music Awards may give credence to it. If you recall, Slash and Scott Weiland were announced as presenters of the award for Country Artist of the Year. As Slash came out, Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran, who had just finished performing, ran over and shook his hand. Then Slash walked up to the mic, took a drag of his cigarette and said with an air of self-deprecation, "they'll let anybody into this place." He then went on to say that Scott "was country before country was cool," paraphrasing

The Ring and the Scar

It's hard to fathom a move from the operating room to the altar in just six short weeks, but it happened and I am grateful to all who assisted beginning with my friends, family and former fiancee for shining their love on me as bright as the Aztec sun. From a man who could not eat, drink, or walk, to one who twirled his bride and danced around the hall with gin and tonic safely in hand, I commend my lead counsel in the war on Crohn's Disease, Dr. Barry Jaffin, for his patience, sagacity and his showing up at the hospital each morning to check that the right bags were hooked to my arm. I must thank Dr. Randolph Steinhagen for carving me more delicately than my father does a turkey on Thanksgiving and for bringing the character of Gregory House alive, albeit with more compassion. Kudos to his extraordinary team at Mt. Sinai Medical Center who slept less than I did on the eve of my wedding and to the wonderful nurses for the sights, sounds and smells they endure each day with

I Lost 26 Pounds in Two Months on the Jenny Crohn's Diet

For those of you who haven't seen me in a while, here is some footage from a recent sales call I made to D.C.: While it's true I've been competing with my fiancee over who would have the sexiest, trimmest figure on our wedding day, my gray pallor and severe lack of mobility needed to be addressed. Oh sure, I knew about the mass in my intestines more than a year ago, doc recommended surgery then, even read back his notes: "Patient said he doesn't want surgery." I've been called stoic for enduring the pain and trying not to let it affect my life, but I believe it was cowardice all along. Although the medical fact that this insidious disease might return to the same spot within five years can also be attributed to my reluctance. Alas, the decision to proceed has been made. It's in God's hands now:

Liz Cho Is Back!

Liz Cho returned to Eyewitness News tonight for the six o'clock show. It was as if she had never been gone at all and then Bill Ritter formally welcomed her back as did Lee Goldberg prior to his forecast. When asked by Bill if she had gotten any sleep lately, she answered no, but that she is loving it (motherhood)! She also said she was very happy to be back and it seems as though the feeling was more than mutual from her colleagues. Welcome back, Liz! We TV news viewers missed you!


Wasting my days like a rat in a maze scurrying worrying flurrying about trying to shout nobody listening fat women glistening Suffering from a malaise despite this bloody craze canyon sickness population quickness tunnels and towers smog and black showers women are vicious men are malicious running around over worn down ground only to die in the suburbs Confused and befuddled debt is mounting from shoddy accounting bullshit is wearing beleaguered soul is tearing can't get ahead can't stay in bed nothing what it seems stacks of metal beams maybe get hit by a car or the ash from a rich man's cigar Sit in the park long after dark sounds like a loon damn bird is out of tune why am I sitting damn kabobs got me shitting Wasting my days like a rat in maze only difference is the rats mind their own biz.

Amy Winehouse Is Gonna Straighten Your Ass Out

Listen up Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears ! Amy Winehouse is gonna get on a plane, and she's gonna come out there for the day, and she's gonna straighten your ass out when she sees you. Do you understand me? She's gonna really make sure you get it. Then she's gonna get on a plane, she's gonna turn around and she's gonna come home. So you better be ready Friday the 20th to meet with her because she's gonna let you know just how she feels about what a rude little pig you really are. You are a rude, thoughtless little pig, okay!?!

Cuckoo for Cookie Puss

Who knows what legendary Carvel characters lurk within the hearts of men? The White Rhino do. There is something to be said for social media via Wikipedia's entry on Cookie Puss . And Fudgy the Whale! How bout a vintage clip of Cookie O'Puss on You Tube? I'm pretty sure Tom Carvel invented crack. Smucker's Is Dead to Me This morning I opted for Smucker's All Natural Peanut Butter over my old standby Skippy Creamy. It was the Reduced Fat logo on the Skippy that threw me off as I give fat the credit for letting the goop off the roof of the mouth. Get home and open the Smucker's and out pours a tablespoon of peanut oil down my cabinet's facade. I am furious. I am tempted to bring the jar back across the street to the Korean grocer who I have known for seven years, but alas the label reads: Separation of oil and butter may occur. Simply mix together and enjoy the taste. Simply mix together! That shit is harder than concrete! I was neglige

Restless Remote Syndrome

Restless Remote Syndrome (RRS) is defined as the inability to prevent yourself from seeing what else is on the television even though the program you're watching is the one most desired. It's important to note that RRS occurs while a show is in progress, not during commercial breaks when channel surfing is common. RRS can be burdensome to long-term relationships, but is usually not as burdensome as erectile dysfunction. For example: The ninth inning is about to start and your partner minimizes the brilliant HD field to a square box in the top right hand corner of the screen causing you to react like Gordon Ramsey in the midst of Hell's Kitchen. While it's speculated that Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) plays a part, there has been no clinical study to support the assumption. Treatments for RRS include reading, online shopping, and in severe cases, writing a blog.

Liz Cho Gave Birth to a Baby Girl Today

It was announced by Bill Ritter on Eyewitness News tonight that Liz Cho gave birth to a baby girl, Louisa Simone Gotlieb, at 10 a.m. this morning. That was just about the time I touched down in DC. Congratulations to Liz and her husband Evan. And congratulations to Louisa Simone for hitting the lottery. And congratulations to David Wells on the nine year anniversary of his perfect game.

Fergie's Glamorous Is Flossy Flossy

The first time I heard Fergie's Glamorous I was wearing a tuxedo with the bowtie in my pocket and ordering a Red Bull and vodka at the gentleman's club across from The Ed Sullivan Theater on Broadway that goes by the clever name of Flashdancers. At the time, I didn't know it was Fergie. I wouldn't have expected it to be her. When I was last in L.A. , the valley girls were using the term "Fergie Bad" to describe gross faux paus in vernacular and/or attire. And then my friend Ralph saw her on Lexington and 53rd and said she was short and had bad acne. The short thing doesn't bother me and the acne usually befalls pretty girls after a night of clubbing, dancing ... which brings me back to the strip club and the stunning silhouette of a girl shaking her hips to the Glamorous, the flossy, flossy and my friend buying me a lap dance so I am ensconced in wickedly divisive perfume. It was during American Idol, the one where Fergie appeared on the undercard wi

Trip to Ireland

Our spacious coach. Dead cat on Dingle sidewalk. Music is woven in Irish culture. Ring of Kerry shrouded in mist. My Irish lass on the shores of Lahinch. We averaged one photo per 10 kilometers. Cliffs of Moher. Couldn't drag me away ... Johnny Cash's home away from home, Markree Castle in Sligo. A moment with Yeats. Pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Giant's Causeway. The head of Saint Oliver Plunkett, on display in Drogheda. Glendalough. Tis himself in Wicklow. Henry Street in Dublin and the "Stiletto in the Ghetto." Happy to travel abroad (From left: Jackie, Sophie, Fiona and Hester). The Ha'penny Bridge over the River Liffey. Erin Go Bragh!

Lindsay Campbell: The Maria Bartiromo of Web 2.0

Last week, enthralled by the short squeeze on Jones Soda (Nasdaq: JSDA), I came across a clip on Wallstrip where its host, Lindsay Campbell, conducted a taste test of the company's carbonated beverages on the streets of New York. Lindsay looked exquisite and her dalliance enhanced a poignant piece. It seems the producers of Wallstrip took a page from CNBC by casting an alluring brunette to sex up content which can often be convoluted and boring much the way Maria Bartiromo has done throughout her career. Bartiromo's stardom has CNBC committed to replicating her success with the likes of Erin Burnett and Rebecca Jarvis, while other innovators eagerly seek to do the same. Makes sense. Casting attractive women to relay business news plays to the primal lust associated with Gordon Gekko's idea of greed being good. And what better way to placate the ego of the rich and powerful and often hideously unattractive financiers, who dance among these beauties like marionettes wit

Hunter S. Thompson Interviews Keith Richards

Check it out ... There's about ten seconds of choppy film in the beginning, then Keith Richards and Hunter S. Thompson mumble through memories of the sixties beside some healthy looking cannabis sativa. The actual interview runs about five minutes then segues into "Eileen" by Keith Richards and The Expensive Winos. Kudos to 88medicine88 for the post.

Liz Cho Is Pregnant

Had it not been for HDTV, I would still be oblivious to the fact that Liz Cho is pregnant. While I did think her boobs seemed a bit bigger of late, it was a natural progression, not like the overnight, in-your-face Ivanka Trump implants, but during the intro to last night's broadcast, her form fitting black dress seemed to hug the little bun in her oven as warmly as she no doubt will one day. Of course it was only for a moment and then that super blue Channel 7 banner was thrown over her, cloaking her secret like da Vinci. She also seems to be seated somewhat higher in her chair these days. Perhaps her rotund belly would push her too far back from the desk for the producer's comfort. Wikipedia says that she is due in June. For nearly eight months, my fiancee and I were blind to this story, even though we watch Eyewitness News each night. How did it get by us? How come this hasn't been widely reported? One of People's 50 Most Beautiful is spawning and it's a secre

Miles From Wicklow

Damp spirits from damp weather, then sunshine appears like the shamrock at St. Patrick's feet. Sad pipers at funeral procession for fallen brothers march down Fifth Avenue's invisible green line, sure-footed like the Fightin' 69th. Somber mood venerated by Nancy O'Dell's propagation of our proud species. In Brooklyn, blond hair like gold at the bottom of a prospector's pan shines upon a milky wool sweater beside red hair battling a green scarf for supremacy in the glare of almighty Farrell's. My Ireland wells up ... writers, fighters, igniters of warmth beneath the threatening clouds. Bills and cigar reviews take precedence, put off from exhausting travel through the Tuscon desert to the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame where The Clash speak to me as do the broad shoulders of Jimi Hendrix and the sublime philosophy of Roger Waters. Years past spent on parade route and Emerald Society pier party, but this year brings a slow start til U2 rattles and hums th

Sushi Cooked in Brooklyn Blaze

Sushi Yama in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn caught fire this frost bit February morning. It happened around 2 a.m., sirens, one after the other, blared down Prospect Park West to the block between where Al Pacino screamed "Attica!" in Dog Day Afternoon and Jack Nicholson took Helen Hunt for rolls in As Good As It Gets . The hot flames seemed inviting to those gathered outside in the frigid air as NYC's Bravest contained them as quickly as a Mario Batali flambe. But the choking smoke was a harsh rebuke as it filled the street seeping into one's clothes like an offensive department store spray. At least five engine and ladder companies responded to the alarm with a swarm of EMTs in tow. The street shined like Times Square with search beams and flashing lights ricocheting off the buildings in the cold, dark night. A start contrast to this afternoon, where the broken glass and ashes were all that was left of the proprietor's hopes and dreams. As far

Happy Birthday Danny Boy

I am officially an uncle. My nephew Daniel came into the world this afternoon and according to my sister, he was screaming and peeing all over the place. Well done, young man, well done. I can see you and I already have a lot in common. Big ups to Dee, Marty and Grandma and Grandpa since this uncle won't be changing any dirty diapers.

Milk Crates

A writer doomed by his lack of memory must resort to fiction or the testimony of an eyewitness. This is no fiction, dear reader. Sure my recollection is hazy, but I can still sense the emotions, the smearing lights, and the raving madness I inspired in the Village one night. On the approach to my lady's abode, after a considerable amount of carousing, I stopped at the corner store that we affectionately refer to as The Korean. I'm not sure of my motive, but judging from the angle at which I conversed with the merchant, I believe I was withdrawing money from the ATM to purchase more beer. The pressure on my kidneys was volcanic. I asked the merchant if I could use his restroom and he snarled at me and said he didn't have one. In the background, my lady said, “let's go home, you can use the bathroom there,” but I was vexed. "Criminal! Savage! To refuse your restroom is against the law! I shall call the police!” The merchant took this as an idle threat