a giant crab complements any space

mayor of wasilla (population ~6,000), governor of anchorage (population ~300,000) for less than 2 years, anti-same-sex marriage, member nra, anti-abortion--if that's not enough to make you love palin, picture the new decor in the white house. i daresay, a new trend: out with shabby chic, in with crabby chic.

love is a lone, felled tree

if a tree falls in the forest, with no one to hear it, does it still make a sound? (read on to find out.)

last night, i was out with a couple friends and listened as they talked of love. okay, i was out with no one, but sat nearby a couple and eavesdropped as they rhapsodized about love. they were a young couple, i am pretty certain (given their ignorance on the chosen topic of conversation, i can't believe otherwise), though they looked quite old, as in their 70s (i attribute this old-look to a climate of lots of sun, wind, stress--perhaps antarctica). here is what gol (girl/old lady) and bom (boy/old man) had to say:

gol: love makes the world go round.
bom: love, exciting and new!
gol: love, life's sweetest reward.
bom: love is glorious, because it is ephemeral! love doesn't last--and that's why it's beautiful, of course!
gol: yes, it is fleeting--real and true love is FLEETING!
bom: and unrequited love--well, that's the best love of all! it lasts FOREVER!
gol: i say, i'm in complete agreement--unrequited love is eternal!
bom: it seems we're true romantics, gol!
(they kiss.)

hey, dumdums, which is it: FLEETING or FOREVER? yes, that inane chatter necessitated a third martini. today, i am not so much hungover than disgusted by the thought of gol and bom freely roaming about town, possibly corrupting hapless young minds. they ought to be locked up, i say. it's not just their specious/contradictory argument about love that makes the young/old couple so stupid, it too is the way they worship love--i mean, love--as if it were an ultimate acquisition in and of itself. i say, this is frivolous, myopic, solipsistic (ironically!); fundamentally, it's fucked up. it seems antarcticans are quite stupid.

toni morrison said that the function of freedom is to free someone else. i feel similarly about love: the function of love is to free someone else to love. the important thing here is that love have a FUNCTION. without function, a thing is pointless, useless, vain, and (in my highly regarded opinion) has no place to claim in this world. i think the phrase 'intrinsic value' is a contradiction in terms. what a shame, i say, what a waste. to love love or to love to be loved in return, what a small circle--nay, speck!--it is. if it doesn't expand--if it doesn't have further consequence than that, i say it's not love at all. (well, i always say that--but all this love talk is hypothetical, no?) so, love, unless it infects a life in such a way as inspiring poetry or music, saving orphans in malawi, or at least inviting the lone, drunk woman next to you to a menage a trois, it is like the falling tree in the forest: no one hears, no one's the wiser, and, really, who gives a shit?

scent of a woman

last night, i had the misfortune of running into an old friend who coerced me into staying out til all hours of the morning. you know the type: bibulous, loud and sloppy, insistent on both paying and ordering, arm tight around shoulder (to make sneaky getaway most difficult). today, i had tickets to a noontime matinee and, waking late, had to go straight from bed to theater, hair a bird's nest, reeking of booze. and what do you know? i met a scraggly musician dude. he'd looked about himself, sniffing like a dog, and when his eyes met mine, he intuited right away that it was i who reeked! at first mortified, i was pleasantly surprised when he took the seat next to mine. afterwards, we got gelato and walked in the park. so, today i learned that it's not just the smell of bacon that attracts man. and what a relief, for whenever i've carried said meat in pocket, i've aways caved, consuming it before ever running into man, for i am only human, and bacon yummy.

crazy like a fox

dear night-owl WHALES, though it be 3am, i have behaved very well tonight, barely finishing my third martini, and getting in at a most respectable 11:20pm. in fact, i was in bed by midnight. (or is this in fact very, very bad behavior? oops.) anyway, what got me out of bed, you ask? seems i went to bed still wearing my glasses. first time i've done that. although, lately, i have been a wee confused. as you know from an earlier post, i lost a shoe a few weeks ago. got into a cab with both shoes, exiting with one. i mistakenly thought we were in the month of july, sent a message referring to this year as 2007, left my apartment in my slippers--on three occasions, and have been making up lies in bars--for no reason (i cut hair! i'm tall!). it all elicits giggles from moi, followed by a 'fuck!' except for the shoe incident--because dammit that was not funny. anyhoo, when i began to worry that perhaps my mind was drifting into crazyland, i asked my friend if i'd seemed strange lately. she said, 'dude, there's a whale on your head.' so...she'd rather talk about my hats.

analyze this: (no) hopes and dreams

women often write me with their lists of desiderata regarding men (which always vexes me, given that i've written extensively on the ills of making/having such lists (see WHALES conception); at times, it's like i'm talking to a brick wall!), and more often than not, 'someone with whom to share my hopes and dreams' appears. the first thing, hope, is something that i endeavor to completely squash in all of you, for there is no place for hope in WHALES. in fact, my first idea for the group's name was WHALESNOH ('and NO Hope') but, the H being silent, it would've sounded anti-whales, which would not have been good (not that i'm particularly attracted to whales, but i have nothing against them, either). however, the second thing, i can relate to, i really can. but really won't anyone do in this regard? to illustrate this, today i shall candidly share--with YOU--a dream of MINE:

i was in a helicopter over a mountainside. it was a scary ride. we came dangerously close to the ground many times heading to the valley. once on the valley floor, we bobbed and swayed in one place for a long while. i almost puked. turns out we were at a mcdonald's drive-thru. after all that, we parked and went inside. i spilled my coke on a big skier-dude. pissed, he followed me into the ladies room and demanded i give him my panties. i thought, sure why not have my panties (freak). but my panties had developed polka dots, such as they would measles, so of course i couldn't give them to him. he called me a tease. when he said it, it boomed throughout mcdonald's and beyond. mortified, i stayed in the bathroom and ate french fries. (i couldn't stomach a burger.)

olympics make me randy!

invariably, the olympics inspire me, and yesterday i went running for the first time since my last olympics. that was a long time ago, especially since the last were in sydney, having skipped the 2004 games.

and i'm going to take this opportunity to preach the word of exercise. i know it's obnoxious when exercise junkies (eg, myself) talk of the importance of getting/staying fit, but i demand you hear me out. well, after my run, i felt more awake, perky, and aroused. this made me curious. so i decided some hardcore scientific research was in order. i found this on 'go ask alice':

exercise leads to the release of endorphins, which leads to a release of hormones that make you horny. Even low-intensity activities, such as yoga or tantra, may do a little somethin' somethin' by increasing blood flow to the genitals, making you randy. Exercise may also offer a lift to men who experience erectile dysfunction (ED), which can be caused by poor blood flow to the pee-pee.
*edited by ms. c.

there you have it. and nothing better contributes to the efforts of a WHALES more than a raging libido.

cybersonals (TM!): a playground for singles, swingers, studies

we're hi-tech people, living in a hi-tech world, which makes it possible to perform numerous tasks without ever leaving home, including meeting people, dating, generally socializing (those things were such nuisances, so thank god for this). naturally, i have perused online personal ads--what sort of relationship expert would i be otherwise? (explore all paths, one must, to call oneself an expert.) and today, i share with you two main thoughts/snap judgments regarding dating via sites like nerve, match, craigslist, etc.

1

though i have never met a dating potential online, i have two friends of greatly differing opinion who have. my friend 'robin' met his girlfriend of 3 years via craigslist; but my friend 'robyn' swears that there are nothing but dorks/pervs to be found on such. let's for the moment put robin aside, and rather concentrate on robyn, because for whatever reason i find her more trustworthy. and the ads that i've seen were clearly written by dorks/pervs--not that dorks/pervs are less human, only less desirable. also, the people who 'cruise' cybersonals (TM!)--save for robyn--are dorks/pervs (i imagine, and so will present as fact). this is terribly problematic, and i shall tell you why.

only one person per couple should be the dork/perv. it is like the yin-yang, black-white, potayto-potahto law of the universe. 2 dorks/pervs, and the balance, the chi, is fucked. yes, cybersonal (TM) world is just a cesspool of dorks/pervs cavorting with other dorks/pervs. i say to you academics: what an opportunity to observe/study in the wild this pure and dense population of dorks/pervs!

note: since no WHALES is either dork or perv, we are free as birds to trudge as we wish through the mire of cybersonals (TM) and couple with a dork/perv.

2

though we love the convenience and ego-preservation (no more facing rejection) that cybersonals (TM) afford, my second concern is one grave and consequential. of course online dating sites have their flaws, and believe it or not disappointment is not unusual when/if people actually meet--live. now, i may be the founder of WHALES, but not as a result of fear of disappointment, but of celibacy. and trust me, WHALES, you will experience disappointment answering cybersonals (TM) (or you are one muy fortunate bitch, or so says robyn).

however, the real danger lies in the way in which people will largely begin--and simultaneously cease--communicating with one another. i've known many a man who can type up a witty line or even two but in person, if this line be spoken, loses all verve. and this will only worsen with more time online and less practice, live. thus, my growing, gnawing fear: prevalent social retardation in the future--culminating at anthropophobia. there ought to be a study conducted on this, too: the correlation between diminishing social faculties and increase of elationships. this is a call to action. personally, though not a sociologist, my recommendation would be that elationships not constitute more than 80% of one's relationships, the absolute limit at 90%, plus or minus 10%.

pret a manger: genii, or dolts?

pret a manger: we support dozens of charities helping the homeless by offering our unsold sandwiches to them at the end of each day.

WTF? do i buy, then, or do i leave for the homeless? i've stood many a noon hour bamboozled in their doorway.

he could steal your heart, too:

a month ago, in front of rockfeller center, i promised to watch 'gouging grandma' in order to get a free snickers bar. but realizing then that it wasn't really 'free,' i gave the candy away to someone who said he'd check it out.

besides, i once met a dude in soho who said he made a decent living stealing from old people (i kid you not), and i'd found his candidness...refreshing.

<-- cute!

avoided headline: dalai lama botches beijing

being the appreciator of comedy that i am, i love filmmaker zhang yimou, whose older films (pre-kung fu spectacles) make funny china's cultural revolution. consequently, they were 'banned' from china. every yimou fan knows (because he has said as much) the director gives not a toss about politics. my hunch is that his real passion lies in commanding/tormenting multiple lovers and smoking dope (see raise the red latern if you doubt it) and merely wanted a rise out of his comrades, not to mention a little free publicity. those zany chinese--they really do do things on a grander scale--including tomfoolery. but i digress.

last night, though i hadn't planned on watching the opening ceremony (i can't remember when i last watched the olympics), i was--atypically of course--free on this friday evening, so said what the hell. i've never enjoyed spectacles such as these, so i had very low expectations. i expected at most dragons, lots of bicycles and dim sum. as everyone knows by now, it was much more hi-tech than all that. i for one was stunned. i mean, does anyone remember bjork in athens? i actually do not, but i googled it and imagine it was awful.

people cannot deny that the ceremony in beijing was the ceremony to end all ceremonies, but it has its critics. eg, i heard someone say, 'why not a dalai lama chase scene--where's that, yimou?' that's unfair, i say. the dalai lama has no acting experience and could have RUINED EVERYTHING.

QIFAM (questions i frequently ask myself), cont'd

A: sorry. it's just the frequency with which those questions are asked--it's exasperating. can we start again--pretend like that ugliness never happened?
Q: you mean, like a virgin?

A: precisely. i do that all the time, by the way.
Q: you act like you're a virgin?

A: well, i don't stand up and declare it so; i just allude to it.
Q: oh?

A: oh yeah. or, in the least, i pretend there have been very few, and very far between.
Q: how do you pretend--?

A: oh, ow! sorry, it's just i'm not used to--oww!
Q: good grief.

A: hehe.
Q: um...

A: i know. it's awesome.
Q: can we--if you don't mind--get on with the q & a?
A: yes, LET US PROCEED.

Q: all right. this is a question that actual people have asked: would you say WHALES are feminists?
A: okay: WHALES are feminists.

Q: no, i mean, would you call them feminists?
A: sure, if i ever met one.

Q: no, i mean--
A: yes, whatever do you mean? it would be nice if you would prepare yourself for these things a little. you know, i have a soul-crushing day job, that i happen to be at--and neglecting, as we speak--and as you know i have this time-suck, i mean blog, and you've heard in past posts about the bourbon and the unruly hairdo--

Q: all right, all right!
A: just sayin. you could put a little more thought into the QIFAM.

Q: ....
A: well?

Q: i'm thinking.
A: oh.

Q: ....
A: ....

Q: what--?
A: this better be good.

Q: never mind.
A: do you want to hear more of my 'virgin' act?

Q: no! well, i just thought of a question: what happened that's made you so cynical?
A: i say, good question. and it reminds me of one of mcnamara's rules in 'fog of war': don't answer the question you were asked, answer the question you wish you were asked. so, my answer to your question: no, not much. i like fish, but i try to stay away from red meat.

FAQ, or rather QIFAM

okay, people don’t really ask questions–and i understand, really i do. it must be very intimidating, addressing the president/founder of WHALES. but fear not, for i shall answer the questions you daren’t ask.
that’s right, here are questions i frequently ask myself, or QIFAM:
Q: does WHALES have an agenda?
A: you mean, like a day planner?
Q: what hobbies do you enjoy?
A: i don’t have hobbies per se, but i do spend an awful lot of time interviewing me. one has to prepare oneself for the windfall that is inevitable in this case of WHALES. in my mind, i’ve already granted larry king first dibs–i mean, did you not see the marlon brando interview?? (’kiss my foot, larry; go on, larry, kiss it.’)
Q: do you hate men?
A: good grief–do you even read my fucking blog, you fucking idiot? god!
Q: which is better representative of your brain: swiss cheese or a teeny, tiny raisin?
A: can i say average-sized raisin, aerated?
Q: are you a lesbian?
A: you know... okay, that’s it. go fuck yourself; this interview is over.

rum and cock

before i get to the meat of the today's matter, this topic reminds me of an otherwise upscale bar my girlfriends and i visited in korea (the country notorious for english running awry), whereupon the drink list appeared 'rum and cock.' we asked them to hold the rum.

today, i received this message regarding 'what can $5 get you?':

reminds me of this one time i had a dispute over the price of a blowjob, or portion thereof. i don’t know whether it was because her technique, so to speak, sucked, or whether it was just that i‘d had one too many cuba libres, but whatever the reason it took such a long time she got tired and quit. now here’s the thing. i was perfectly willing to give her a little extra for her effort if she’d managed to bring it off. but what I refused to do was to pay her for half a blowjob. what the fuck, I ask you, is HALF A BLOWJOB?

yours faithfully,

popeye

my response to 'popeye':

just for drinking cuba libres, you should expect nothing more than a fleeting brush of the lips to the cock, no matter what the price. everyone knows real men don’t drink rum and cokes.

but, dude, it's a hyundai!

when i moved down to nyc from upstate ny, i got pulled over doing 87 mph--in my hyundai accent. dear readers, are you familiar with the hyundai accent? if not, they are fabulous on gas but not otherwise. i'm no automotive expert, but i'm gonna guess that my accent, whom i affectionately call 'goldie,' has, like, 2.25 cylinders and 24.5 hp. don't quote me on this, just a guess. regardless, i love goldie and miss her.

when the officer questioned me, the only defense i could manage was: 'but-but-but it's a HYUNDAI! i never knew it could go so fast!' turned out my reaction wasn't completely nonsensical, and the pig gave me a ticket for running a stop sign. even so, just the thought of diminutive, benign, typically 30 mph-moving goldie being charged with a crime--any crime--was something i never could have imagined. i guess this is a rare instance of low expectations fucking with you.

in the end, goldie racked up $400 in parking violations her first month in brooklyn. consequently, i drove her back upstate, parked her at a relative's, stripped her plates and took the train back to nyc. i haven't seen her in 16 months.