MRod says: Is the crew ready? Like spaghetti.

(Via)

The composition of this photo of a Jewish settler pushing back against a seemingly excessive phalanx of security officers is rather remarkable.

Snarky comment: Why don’t the security guys just walk around her?

There’s a small town in Ohio called Neville. They should add “Aaron” in front of it, so it’s Aaron Neville. Aaron Neville, Ohio.

I should get out more…

Had a relatively uneventful weekend, other than the realization that my friend Lauren is an addict for Billy Joel.

Enough so that it compels her to dance…

Uptown girl loves to dance.

Saturday, I scored me some sweet (and cheap!) art books at the Taschen bookstore in Soho. I’ve decided to teach myself and become the world’s foremost authority on Caravaggio.

Sunday was brunch with the Cy for yet another weekly life strategizing session over omelets, mimosas, and endless cups of coffee.

On Monday, I went to the Knicks game, which was a great time right until the part where the Knicks fucked up and lost (again). Motherfuckers. At least the popcorn was good.

Today, Tuesday, to celebrate such a beautiful day, I threw a model airplane off the 14 floor of my office building in Soho! It was SO FUCKING SWEET. The three of us guys followed its meandering flight and gleefully laughed and giggled like we were 9 year olds in a playground on recess again.

Haha. My imitation of the projected flight of our plane.

The anticipation!

And away it goes! Unfortunately we couldn’t track it with the camera, but it was really quite a sight as it dived between rooftops only to rise again with the soft and warm wind currents–circling in a random mesmerizing pattern–before it finally came to a gentle thud on the street below, Lafayette Street, in front of surprised pedestrians headed home for the day.

my taxes.  Filed and sent.  Awaiting refund.  High five to myself.

Don’t forget boys and girls: The deadline to file taxes is April 17, 2007.

If you’re wondering why it’s not the 15th of April this year, the IRS gots the answer for you:

Taxpayers will have extra time to file and pay because April 15 falls on a Sunday in 2007, and the following day, Monday, April 16, is Emancipation Day, a legal holiday in the District of Columbia.By law, filing and payment deadlines that fall on a Saturday, Sunday or legal holiday are timely satisfied if met on the next business day. Under a federal statute enacted decades ago, holidays observed in the District of Columbia have an impact nationwide, not just in D.C. Under recently enacted city legislation, April 16 is a holiday in the District of Columbia. The IRS recently became aware of the intersection of the national filing day and the local observance of the new Emancipation Day holiday after most forms and publications for the current tax filing season went to print.

Individuals in the District of Columbia, as well as in six eastern states, already had an April 17 filing date prior to this announcement because they are served by an IRS processing facility in Massachusetts, where Patriots Day will be observed on April 16. These individuals are still required to file on April 17.

There.  Now you’ve just learned more than you ever wanted to about the tax deadline extension this year.  You’re welcome.

My new blog header visually symbolizing the diminishing position of Attorney General Al Gonzo and his soon-to-be fired status is from an image originally posted on Huffington Post.

It’s an obvious skit from SNL–hosted by Colts quarterback and (this pains me to say it) Super Bowl champ Peyton Manning–but this is still a pretty hilarious spoof of those NFL and United Way commercials:

Recently I’ve started to observe a certain accretive retro-coolness applied to the “nerd” label.

Pharrell leads a group called N*E*R*D with decidedly un-nerdy songs like “Lapdance,” “Rockstar,” and “She Wants to Move.”

Working in SoHo, I see all manners of sartorial choices among the hipsters, skateboard culture aficionados, and leggy models that occupy this neighborhood and one of the more popular accessories, I notice that unites these distinct groups are those thick framed glasses (not to be confused with the square framed librarian glasses). Of course everyone knows that those glasses are not some fashion adornment, but a necessary evil to any bonafide nerds (all that reading results in bad eye sight). I know, because I had to wear them for a good chunk of my childhood: you know, during those formative years where insecurities develop.

Aside from adoption or appropriation of certain aspects of nerd-wear, I’ve noticed hip people who’ve never actually been a nerd, past or present, assuming that title. This is not to say that a former child drug addict/teen hooker can’t become a nerd later on in life. However, I object strenuously to this hijacking, because once the fashionistas and trendsetters get bored and move on to a new style, they’ll kick us dorks out of our ultimately temporary seats at the proverbial cool lunch table.

How do I know I’m a dork? Other than a youth consisting mainly of studying and reading past my bed time, I continue to occupy my time with things like this: I spent two hours of my afternoon today watching a show on the History Channel called “Star Trek: Beyond the Final Frontier,” which pays tribute to the creator, show, its actors as well as the lead up to the Christie’s auction of the costumes, props and more from the show.

The thing is that I don’t even like Star Trek–the show or the movies. I am however, fascinated with its technological fantasies.

The auction was really fascinating: A FLUTE, a MOTHERFUCKING FLUTE (which doesn’t even work!) from some random episode went for40k and the ship from
“Star Trek: The Next Generation” sold for $500,000.

Update: I was in Urban Outfitters yesterday and look at this shirt they are selling there:

I would enter this as exhibit A in the trial on the deleterious appropriation of nerdom by those who do not truly understand the lifestyle and thoughts of actual nerds.

I’m convinced that this ad I’ve seen in the subway could ONLY be run in NYC.

The incomparable Ms. Smith pointed me towards this segment from the Colbert Report (I hardly watch television any more, even with a DVR, which probably comes as a shock to those who knew me circa “The College Years.”) in February where guest, writer, and critical race theorist Debra Dickerson appeared to promote her new contentious book “The End of Blackness” (Confession: I haven’t read it). And on the show, she argued that Barack Obama is not actually Black, and consequently lacks credible access to the shared history and legacy of African Americans, because of his biracial heritage.

“But…but, I thought his father is Black?” you ask.

“Nyet” says Dickerson and she notes the oh-so-important distinction that Obama Sr. is Kenyan.

For the layperson, her statement dangerously appears logical, but as Colbert quickly underscored, it’s a rather (and obviously) specious argument that she presents, which collapses under its own very illogic nature. To state that Barack Obama isn’t Black commits two fallacies. One, it ignores the binary racial framework and reality of American society, as well as the historical roots and context (eg. One drop rule) within which racial identity is formed and shaped in the United States. Second, it robs Obama of his ability to translate and inject his personal narrative into a transformative and empowering voice in an entrenched and static political landscape.

I like to suspect that Dickerson’s denial of Obama’s Black identity originally developed as an intellectual exercise among her and her friends or colleagues that grew beyond the scope of its purpose and now she’s painted herself into a corner on this issue. It’s all so ludicrous.

Usual Thursday Babelness (But many of the photos were taken by people other than yours truly):

The shirt theme for the night was apparently the color, gray.

The lawyer-cum-”party advocate” with Chloe and Cristina.

I call these next series of photos: “Henry with Cristina.”

Henry with Cristina.

Henry with Cristina.

Henry with Cristina.

Cristina giving the camera the ol’ hands to the paparazzi face style.

I don’t think Cristina enjoyed dancing with this guy–even though he’s the fat guy from Lost. I’m a big fan of the middle finger photo sabotaging going on here.

Doppelganger, no?

Haha.

Erica returns from Lebanon.

Chloe hiding from something behind me.

In some cultures, showing the sole of your shoes is considered an affront and insult. So basically, we’re insulting you right now.

Forgot their names! Sorry!!

Chris using his new snazzy phone.

Rupa and Chloe.

Haha. I look so ridiculous in the background.

Peaceeee.

This is my favorite picture from the night I think. Very…party apropos. I think I’m going to wear ties more often when I go out JUST so I can take it off. Do chicks dig that?

Doing the two-step.

A little dance circle, er, triangle…

The hat style at work here.

Trying to hide my face. “It’s hideous! Hideous I tell you!”

I just feel dirty looking at this.

Ha ha ha.