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While I wasn’t able to watch David Blaine on Oprah, I was able to read this short article about him having broken the world record for holding your breath - and it’s been Guinness Certified!!!

Guinness, in case you don’t know, is THE book that is supposed to hold the truthful records and achievements of the freakish and foolish. 

Why on Earth would they grant David Blaine - the illusionist!!! - any record whatsoever???

Call me crazy, but did anyone over at Guinness ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, an illusionist might try to break a world record by fooling everyone into believing that they actually did something? 

From now on I’m going to be sticking to the online version of Weekly World News for all of my world record keeping. 

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There’s an apparent serial killer on the loose in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn - either that, or a high concentration of suicidal people who choose really far out there obscure methods of suicide.

The first victim was John Rossi in January 2008.  Mr. Rossi was a local pharmacist who was an apparent business partner in Lowen’s Pharmacy with the guy who is/was a reputed associate of organized crime - the same man who was sentenced to nearly a year of prison for trying to extort Steven Segal.

Lowen’s was under investigation for being part of a nationwide scheme to manufacture and distribute steriods and HGH - based off of quantity sold, it was rumored to have been the world’s largest HGH factory.

A suicide note that read “please forgive me” was found after Mr. Rossi’s dead body was located.  “His” first shot missed altogether - yes, he held a gun to himself and missed!?!  “His” second shot hit himself in the chest.  “His” third shot was to his head. 

The second victim was Paul Mento, who was found dead inside of the Best Western Gregory Hotel in February 2008.

Mr. Mento was found in the bathtub of his hotel room with duct tape wrapped around his nose and mouth - no suicide note was found, and yet the medical examiner’s office ruled his death a suicide because the were no drugs and no defensive wounds to be found.

The third and latest victim to die was found dead on Friday afternoon at…guess where….the very same Best Western Gregory Hotel!!!

Authorities have yet to release this victim’s name, but they have said that she was found dead with a knife in her chest and that a suicide note was found. 

Okay, are we all on the same page here?  Three people found dead less than a mile away from one another…all killing themselves in very bizarre circumstances…? 

Something fishy to me here, and it sure as heck doesn’t all sound like suicide to me.

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Get on the boat…yeeeaaaah!  The Banana Boat…

Everyone loves the Banana Boat!  Especially the Three Wise Men…

Even the Virgin Mother does…

As does baby Jesus…

It’s nothing but smooth sailing, especially with this rubber fingertip on it…

Oh boy.  I’m just going to stop here with this covered rubber covered banana tip…

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Good news!!! I have won a lottery draw.  Here’s the email confirming my win!

From: lottery board (skidjim@bellnet.ca)
Sent: Tue 4/29/08 7:27 AM
Subject: winner
To: info@winner

Your email address has won 250,000 Pounds sterlings of national uk lottery draw 2008.

The selection was made randomly from the list of over 21,000 e-mail addresses on the internet.

contact Dr.Pinkett Griffin
Email: prinnket_microsoft@yahoo.com.hk

fill this form and send to him.

Your names…
Your address…
Your Sex….
Your country….

********************************

Obviously this is good news for me as it will help me offset the taxes that I owed less than two weeks ago.  Money, here I come. 

So this is what I’ve written to them back from a brand new email address that has never received or had an email sent from other than this one. 

From:  Albert_Jones_Faucet_King@yahoo.com (Albert Jones)
Sent: Tue 4/29/2008 3:36 PM
To: prinnket_microsoft@yahoo.com.hk
Subject: RE: winner

Good Afternoon Dr. Pinkett Griffin,

I hope this email finds you well, as I can assure you that I am completely happy and delighted to have received word of my UK Lottery winnings.  While I must say that 25,000 Pounds is merely a drop in the bucket, it’s still none the less good fortune for the lucky, such as I.  You see, I amassed a fortune in the faucet strainer boom post war due to the wonderful boom of suburbs rising around this fine country of mine.

Your initial email lacked the mentioned form, but I have taken the liberty of disclosing the information that was asked. 

Name: Albert Jones
Address: 303 E 51st Street, New York, NY 10022
Sex: Male
Country: United States of America

I certainly hope that our future correspondence and all of the paperwork for my collection of said 25,000 Pounds gets a second glance over before it gets sent out for my official signing and attention.  I am a very busy man and as such do not have the time nor the patience for documents not in full.

Also, due to my busy schedule involving a last minute trip to South Wales, I must have you deal with my personal assistant Franklin.  I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause and assure you that Franklin is most trusted and that he will be of most help in resolving this matter on my behalf since he holds my Power of Attorney. 

I look forward to the check!

Warmest Regards,
Albert Jones

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By now I’m sure that most of you have heard about an Austrian man named Josef Friztl.  He’s the man that had held his daughter Elisabeth captive in his “family” home for 24 years.

Not only that, but he also raped her numerous times, fathering at least seven children with her. 

To sum up his life in one sentence. He’s a creepy, sick, douchebag who should be stoned.

I have two thoughts besides his obvious sum of life in one sentence.

First off, doesn’t Josef Fritzl appear as though he would have fit in perfectly somewhere in Hitler’s regime?  The man has Nuremberg written all over his face, and based off of the news, he sure seems to be into some really sick crap against fellow man which would have allowed him to fit right into the boys club of the Second Reich.

Secondly, he sounds as though he was laying the groundwork for he and his family to be the modern day version of Cleopatra’s family. 

Creepy!

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I’ve been a member of a specific online forums board for about six or seven years, and on the boards was a gal who went under the name “WhoringForJesus” or some other spelling of it - the point is, she was Whoring For Jesus.

Oddly enough back in 1999 or 2000 I wrote a sketch about a nun whoring herself out to help the needy in the name of Jesus - what are the coincidences!

Anyway, back in the middle of 2004 I had never really met WhoringForJesus in person and wasn’t sure who it was in real life.

Then one day I found myself with a couple of tall boys in me standing out on the sidewalk on Ludlow Street, and I spotted a couple of friendly faces coming toward me.  I greeted the ones that I knew a hello, and then one familiar face whom I didn’t actually know came up to me but whose face I knew and said, “Hi, I’m WhoringForJesus!”

This confused the heck out of me.  Not because I thought that WhoringForJesus would have been someone else, but more so because I wasn’t able to connect the dots right away, and just stood there confused.

“I’m WhoringForJesus!!”  She repeated.

I finally spoke - “Whaaa…?”

“I said I’m WhoringForJesus!!!”  She repeated again.

I then just stood there trying to understand the fact that someone whose face I only new but whom I had never actually spoken to decided to come up and tell that they were Whoring For Jesus - I took it as if she was telling me that she was a Jehovah’s Witness and just sort of froze there in front of her.

“FROM THE MESSAGE BOARDS!  I’M WHORINGFORJESUS ON THE BOARDS!!!”

“ooooohhhhhhhh!”

Yeah, I’m not the brightest. 

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After coming out of the Whitney on Saturday my friend and I decided that dirty water hot dogs from the guy on the street - cooked in the same water all day long - was what we should grab to eat. 

What happened during the next three minutes was one of those New York moments that could only happen in New York.

“Four hot dogs please.”  (Yes, I said please - I try and be polite always)

“Yeah, four hot dogs.”  My friend said. 

“Eight hot dogs!  Oh boy!  You two are going to each eat four hot dogs!?!”  The hot dog vendor said shockingly.  As if he wasn’t going to dare allow us to each eat four hot dogs for safety concerns.

“Yes”

“Yes?”

“Okay eight dogs coming up.”

“Actually just two each for four total.”

“Sure thing.  No problem.  You want anything on them?”

“Ketchup on two, and radish on the other two.”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh my God, you need to look to your right immediately!!!”  I said to my friend. 

“Oh my…” 

The hot dog guy looked too, as out of the blue a guy was walking with his wife/girlfriend/whatever.  They were both well dressed and sane looking, and yet the guy had his head wrapped up, like, seriously, completely wrapped around with two different types of bandages as if he was walking around a VA Hospital on the set of a Vietnam epic war movie.  It was awesome, and he totally didn’t appreciate my pointing his “look / style” out to anyone.

“Oh my God, that was awesome!”

 ”Hey, I want a drink too.”

“What are you thinking?”

“A can of Nestea.”

“You two want something to drink?”

“Yeah, a Nestea and a Sprite, please.”

The hot dog guy reached in and pulled out a can of Nestea from his ice box.  On it the three of us could all visibly see something that shouldn’t be there.  None of us were sure what it was, and the hot dog guy was going to do his darn best to get that strange thing unstuck from the mouth area of the can.

The hot dog guy got in real close to the mouth of the can and blew as hard as he could.  He then repeated this twice more without succeeding as we watched his spiddle fly out of his mouth hoping that he wasn’t going to actually give us the nasty spiddle can of Nestea.

“Hey, can I have a straw too?”  My friend asked before hot dog guy was able to finish his public arts project titled, “Skeeving Out The Customer”. 

“Straw?  Yes.”

The hot dog guy seemed genuinely offended by someone not wanting to put their mouth on his spiddle to drink some tea.  He finally blew the thingy off, and then realized that he really shouldn’t have done that, and that he wasn’t in his backyard in the middle of New Jersey able to be going “HAAAAAAA” on all of the hot dogs or cans of beverage and getting away with it.

“Oh…ummm…here you go.  You get a different can.”

“What do I owe you?”

“Let’s see.  Four hot dogs, a can of Nestea, and a bottle of Sprite.  Uhhhh, 8 bucks.”

I handed the guy a  $20 bill and as the guy handed me back $12 he said, “It’s actually uhhh $8.50, but whatever.”

So, in closing, I’ve learned that either flirting with a street vendor or having him do gross things to products in front of you is the way to the better deal.  Which one did the trick…? 

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It’s no secret that out of all the Banana Republic’s the the TriState New York area that I can shop at, by far my favorite store is the Banana Republic in the old Port Authority (aka Google NYC HQ) over in Chelsea. 

The main reason for my love of this particular Banana Republic is the high concentration of gay and or bisexual male employees there - one part due to this fact scaring off the homophobic hooligans leaving more selection of my size, and three parts being that I tend to receive what I feel to be special treatment in shopping there.

I’m not sure what about my boyish looks or charm it is, but this Banana just gives me that extra friendly attitude.  I’ve never had or seen a problem with any of the staff.  They are always friendly to me and everyone else - although I must say that think I get an extra helping of friendly. 

I enjoy receiving the special treatment, and when I was there last week I came to a sad realization - my days are numbered and I’ve only got so much more of this extra special treatment left before it’s all gone!

I’m fast approaching the big 2-8.  My waist is inching bigger, my bones have a little more meat on them, and my hair is, well, there, but suffering from an internal conflict of a civil war ravaging certain areas due to the front lines of war - leaving what sure as heck appears to be a receding hairline to the naked eye - although I know that it’s from an internal hair on hair follicle civil war.

Anyway, the point that I’m trying to get across here is that my days of receiving the extra friendly attitude based on how I look at this Banana Republic as opposed to just the regular run of the mill friendly attitude is coming to an end. 

What will I do when I can’t seem to find my size slacks?  Who will be there to rush over to assist me before I could even ask for help?  Who? 

This whole future thing can be a scary thing at times…

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Have you seen this Dr. Pepper commercial that Flava Flav is currently whoring himself out for? 

Each and every time I see or hear it it makes my whole body cringe with annoyance. 

“You know I’m Flava Flavalicious” 

He must not be doing as good as I guessed with his whole finding love on VH1 to have to resort to making a rap so bad for cash.

Part of me wants to help him out by turning the Tony Bennett Room into a spare bedroom for him, but that would require that I would end up being subjected to “FLAVA FLAV!” calls throughout my entire life - I don’t think enough sound proofing could be done to contain his voice. 

Is anyone available to get to writing Bill Gates to give Flava Flav enough money so that he’ll no longer have to resort to finding love, or rapping such bad lyrics in commercials?  Please?

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I’m going to go out on a limb here and question whether or not Obama’s pastor Reverend Jeremiah Wright is on some sort of performance enhancing drugs.

According to his wiki page, Reverend Wright was born in September 1941 - he’s 66 years old!  Now take a look at him in this suit during this recent interview…

He looks ripped!  His torso and thick neck look mighty impressive for someone who is 66 years old.  I can only hope to look as ripped in a suit when I’m anyway near 66 years old - if he’s not juicing it in any way, I’d sure as heck love to know what his fitness routine consists of.

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This weekend I realized that one cannot truly be mean unless they are observant. 

Sadly, I’m quite observant, and subsequently mean by near default - but being mean is not what I set out to do by pointing out things that deserve a look at by one and all on the open public streets - I’m talking to you, little people - so please, understand that just because one is observant and wants to show someone just how cool something or someone appears to the naked eye, it does not come from a mean place.

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I received the movie 300 out of my Netflix queue this weekend, and I was hoping to see a really good movie. 

Instead I got 35 minutes of movie that could have easily have been cut and edited into Alexander which would have actually have made Alexander a worse movie while still making Alexander make (non)sense, which is something that I thought was an impossibility. 

I remember 300 being a blockbuster in the theater, and I think that it must have been a different movie in the theater, with different actors, different lighting, and a different script altogether - cause the dvd HAD to be stopped at 35 minutes. 

I couldn’t deal with the awfulness, not even deal with it to write a better bash post about the movie.  All that I could think was, “I can’t let myself lose another minute of my life to this awful, awful movie.”

Who knows, maybe the movies were one in the same, but I hope not, for if it was the same, people will accept anything as being good as long as someone else tells them that this is what they should consider to be good - case in point John Mayer’s successful career. 

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I checked out the Whitney Biennial yesterday and I highly recommend you check it out yourself.

Some highlights include watching a 26 minute video about a bloody faced lady Viking looking for action in Southern California, a video about women and goats that was awesome, a giant snow cone looking block, giant pigeon poop made out of garbage, and most of all, a semi-creepy yet highly amusing security guard. 

See, the security guard was standing near an exhibit that people weren’t sure if they were allowed to walk through or not, and well, if you’ve never been to an art museum before, by “people” I mean a population of really hot women. 

So anyway, the security guard was a little odd looking to begin with, and he’d make eye contact with “people” while giving them a head nod to acknowledge that it was okay for them to walk through the exhibit, and then two steps into the exhibit the goofy looking guard would have very visibly had all of these “people” undressed with his eyes and in a vat of cotton candy screaming his name while spanking themselves.

At least that what I think he was doing with his eyes - seeing him work was fantastic!   

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I finally caught a look of the bird that has been waking me up over the past couple of weeks at the crack of dawn.

It’s a male cardinal, and he’s a no good lousy bum!  A BUM I tell you!

I spotted him in the various trees that line the backyards near my bedroom window.  He was flaunting his chirps while watching me, and then after a stare-down he flew away. 

I hope that I scared him off for good, or at least until the fall when he’ll migrate back. 

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Here’s a shot of my butterfly bush that is coming out of a dormant state. 

And a plastic garden-cat that makes the grave of my pet eel…COOLNESS!!!

R.I.P. Neil the Eel.   

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