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Why is China treating us like Native Americans? Don’t they know we killed them all?

Reading the New York Times this morning I see the latest news from China is that their pigs (which I love because I like bacon, hot dogs and Babe) are contaminated with some horrible virus that may cause major problems in the pork world. This is just the latest in a series of things that China has done to hurt America.

Earlier this week there was a report that millions of toys had to be recalled because they had lead in them (or were choking hazards) that could be very bad for children. Last month it was pet food and toothpaste that were damaged goods. Fortunately China, in the overreaction of the century, executed the head of their food and drug agency (albeit more for approving fake drugs, but still). Then there is all this talk of China’s government trying to devalue their currency, which I have no idea what the hell that means, but the business section of the Times is very angry about it.

The truth is I am not sure what China is doing because they are doing so much. And I think it is brilliant. In 2007 no one is going to stand for blankets with small pox and getting Americans drunk to take over their country. In today’s world you need to be more sophisticated to take over America and I think China is up to the task. With a billion people they are well equipped to subvert free speech in their own country and take down ours at the same time.

Just think – with bad pigs come bad hot dogs and with bad hot dogs comes unhealthy baseball fans. With no baseball fans, America’s past time will die, unless injected with human growth hormone. Although we all know that America’s past time is getting fat playing video game systems. Systems that are designed by Japanese people and made in… China.

Then pet food – with dying pets, Americans will have nothing to kick when they get home to vent over their shi-ty jobs, many of which they may lose as they go to China and India. Fewer pets to abuse means more person-on-person violence. Michael Vick will have to have homeless people battling to the death at his home now.

Toothpaste problems – well that is easy. China wants our teeth to resemble theirs (and Brits), further weakening our world standing and one of our distinct advantages over them.

And then toys. Even this is a low blow – putting harmful lead in toys so that our children get sick and so there is no next generation of America. When I was growing up He-Man had special powers, but one of them was not the ability to cause Cancer. Optimus Prime could not turn my lungs into landfill.

So for these reasons I am asking everyone to boycott the Olympics next summer, which are going to be in China. I have already given up my spot on the USA Handball Team.

An epic about fatties, skinnies, whores and fighting crime.

Last night I represented my office at the National Night Out Against Crime at an undisclosed precinct in the Bronx. I was there with another representative from my office to hand out literature and assorted items to members of the community to inform them of crime prevention, etc.

Let me say before this epic blog continues that I have not been to Afghanistan, Iraq, a Chinese prison or Darfur, but I believe that only those places could top what I witnessed last night.

5:00 I arrived at the park for the festivities and noticed a stage set up, a few amusement park-style rides and numerous booths set up for different community organizations. Lots of police were standing around, mostly gawking and making lewd comments to each other about the 14 year old girls walking around (absolutely true). There was also an amazing amount of fat people. People who think the Midwest or Texas have the market cornered on fat need to check out one of these events.

Also present were members of the Explorers program. This is a program that takes young kids (middle and high school age) who want to be police officers or are interested in law enforcement and makes them subjects of ridicule to their classmates. I think the motivation behind the program is noble, but not since high school kids were allowed to do after-school karate has an activity done so much to cock-block teenagers. If George Bush wanted to ensure abstinence among high schoolers he would simply mandate that kids do one of three activities:

1) Dungeons and Dragons

2) Karate

3) Explorers

Kids marching in berets with fake rifles and shirts that say NYPD are asking to be the targets of bullies.

5:30 Our booth was now set up and we started handing out literature and coloring books to the kids. Now, I don’t mean to stereotype or generalize, but Indians (dot, not feather) steal coloring books from National Night Out Against Crime booths. One family of AOL tech support must have taken 12 coloring books. At one point I threw one at them and yelled, “The outsourcing stops here!”

Then the captain of the precinct made his rounds wearing his captain’s hat. I think nothing eliminates the respect for a police officer than a hat, which hasn’t been seen since Sean Connery was walking the beat in The Untouchables. But when a lucrative pension is waiting, you wear the hat.

At this point in the evening the band, Mixed Nuts (I’m sure you’ve heard of them) started jamming. They played several oldies and had two people dancing. One was a fat kid (of course he was fat) who was actually very funny and probably a couple of years from coming out of the closet. The other dancer was the scariest woman I had ever seen. She was about 5’7” and weighed 80 lbs. She danced like she was in a trance, which was probably narcotic induced, but she loved Mixed Nuts.

While all this was going on I was handing out coloring books. But several adult men were taking coloring books “for their kids,” who were conveniently “at home.” I have already made a call to Dateline telling them that they should track these men.

I also saw a group of Italian yutes (12 year olds with wife beaters, gold chains and hair gel), who were complaining about all the “f-ing cops.” So I asked them, “What were you going to do if the cops weren’t here, drag one of the black kids out back and beat him up for dating your sister? Get back in the Bronx Tale DVD box where you belong.”

6:00 I went walking around to different booths. I got to the FDNY booth (Fire Department) and they were handing out coloring books as well. I particularly liked the picture of the St. Patrick’s Day Drunken fight, but I don’t know if it should be in a children’s coloring book. I then observed one of the amusement park rides – one of those huge inflatable castles. Fine, family fun. But the guy operating had multiple tattoos… on his neck. Now I don’t mean to stereotype, but I don’t want guys with neck tattoos operating kids’ rides. Neck tattoos are God’s way of saying, “He/she has been to prison or will be going very soon.”

Then there was the presentation of some award to the Bronx Puerto Rican Day King and Queen, which is like being the Number 1 seed for next year’s NYC Puerto Rican Day Parade.

6:30 The greatest assault on the senses that I have ever seen. A girl, probably between 15 and 17 strutted in with her family. I am not saying she was dressed like a whore, but I am pretty sure she lost her virginity during the second trimester. As I learned, her name is “Charlie” and she is a singer and she is set to perform.

So Charlie gets up on stage and tells the crowd that she is about to release her debut album on Sony records and that this is her first single – I believe the title was “Drink Me Up.” Or something subtle like that. And then she pulls an Ashlee Simpson – total lip sync. And the song flat out sucked. And note to Charlie’s publicist, bare stomachs are only sexy if the stomach does not jiggle.

When Charlie finished she gave the text book send off: “God Bless, keep supporting the Bronx, I grew up here and knew the struggles. Keep love in your heart. I love you all.”

And then I vomited. It is sort of weird to grow up in one of the better precincts in the Bronx and then say, with your family there, “I know the struggles.” Why not just say, “Mom, Dad you fuc-ed up, but now I am banging a producer 15 years older than me and can’t wait to embarrass you as a low level Lindsey Lohan.”

7:30 Mixed Nuts stopped playing when their back up music (AKA Microsoft Windows) stopped playing. It got dark and we gave out all our literature so at 8:05 we packed it up and headed home.

Today is the oldest I’ve ever been.

So this coming weekend my Dad turns 76. Last year he turned 75 so we took him to a nice Cuban restaurant and got him presents. This year I am taking him to see Sicko and for a pancake breakfast. Sicko will be very entertaining, but health care is not an issue for my Dad because he is part of the Irish Shield Health Care System. It is very simple. You marry a woman who is hard working, younger than you and has great health insurance. Then you pile up huge bills (especially dental) because you can.

But age is weird. There are certain milestones I have seen that make me feel old. The first time a Mom says to their child, “Say excuse me to the nice man.” Man? – lady I don’t know if you noticed, but I still watch Disney movies, talk about sports and have all my hair – I’m not a man! Or even worse a “sir.” No one knighted me. But one day I know I will hit that point when my kids (if I have any) will bring a friend over who will refer to me as J-L or to my wife as Scarlett and I will tell them, a la Christopher Plummer in The Insider, “J-L. J-L? Try Mr. Cauvin and Mrs. Johansson.” But that landmark day is far far away at this point.

But this weekend I tuned in to VH-1’s countdown of videos and realized that I had not heard of over half of the artists on the countdown. It is as if the music industry has quadrupled its rate of production of mediocre one-hit wonders in the last few years. Once you get called sir and don’t know what the kids are listening to these days (and use phrases like “what these kids are listening to these days”) you are getting older.

And then I am dating an older woman so there’s the obvious pressure there… to pay bouncers in advance to card her.

The only thing short of kids that can age you though is a day job. I looked 25 before I started my job. Now I feel like my eyes resemble John Kerry’s after he learned he lost the election to W.

And then when I see a milestone like Alex Rodriguez’ 500th Home Run and realize there will be a generation of youngsters growing up now who will never know what it’s like to see a player like A-Rod – a major league baseball player not on steroids and with a full command of the English language.

But then I shouldn’t feel too old. Just yesterday I was at my parent’s building to go swimming and some old people asked me if I was still growing. Nothing like some batty old people to make you feel young and continent.

That’s who I open for on the road.

Last Thursday I got a call from Bananas Comedy Club in Hasbrouck Heights, NJ. They needed a feature act for Saturday’s 8 pm show. Pay was $100 and the set was 25 minutes.

Saturday I took an NJ transit bus to Hasbrouck Heights. Now the bus ride from Port Authority was only 25 minutes. I did not realize the middle of nowhere could be reached in only 25 minutes, but that’s where I found myself. But I was not alone. My girlfriend and an elderly couple from Germany or Brazil (I don’t know something weird like that) were with me. The elderly Germans were with us because they were waiting to go to the same place as us – the Hasbrouck Heights Holiday Inn, the location of Bananas Comedy Club. My girlfriend was with me because – well as if it is not obvious – I was performing at a Holiday Inn.

When we got to the hotel I sat down at the bar and ordered a hamburger and my girlfriend told me she would have the side salad that came with it. What arrived at my table was something that resembled a piece of the Berlin Wall covered in greasy phlegm. I ate three bites and put it down because I figured that was as much flesh eating bacteria that I could handle. My girlfriend declined the side salad, primarily because the site of my hamburger, couple with the fly that landed on the salad and my hamburger were enough to turn her away. But the bartender did not charge me for it so she got a better tip.

Then it was show time. Before taking stage I met the emcee, who I actually knew from the city and the headliner, who with his bandana, loop earring and wide eyes resembled a pirate missing an eye patch. Then there was the audience.

I try to be as adaptable to different audiences, but many good comics are not for everyone. I have now developed a good rule of thumb for my audience success rates. You add up the number of people in an audience who wear Depends and the number of people who look like they know where Jimmy Hoffa is buried and then subtract the number of people who know what text messaging is. If that number is negative – go out and have a great set. If that number is positive I say a quick prayer and hope for the set to be over soon. I think my number for this show was 40 (total audience about 60).

Throughout the show I had strong support from the black table – like a high school cafeteria this club had a black table, and from the few blondes in the room (one of which was my girlfriend). The rest of the audience alternated between polite tittering and shaking of heads at some of my harsher material. During those jokes it is was particularly nice to have my girlfriend there because she would laugh loudest at those moments, either because she has a better sense of humor or because she enjoys seeing me crash and burn in front of the Columbus Society and the AARP.

The headliner killed after me. I would love to take credit for it, but I think he just fed their need for piracy and the issues they care about (lawn care, prescription drug care, child care – in other words he could have been running on a humorous political platform for Hasbrouck heights Village Council). And just for the record he was not gay – he just looked like it (and he made jokes about it).

But then again – what can you expect. When a comedy club is called bananas it is hard to get up on stage and expect a crowd ready to rock out – “WHAT’S UP!!! ARE YOU READY TO ROCK… Bananas?”

But like any comic looking for work I am happy Bananas gave me the opportunity, so thanks for that. And by the time I get work there again half the audience probably won’t be with us anymore so the next set could always go better.

Will Shortz does my dirty work.

When I lived at home I had daily access to the NY Times and the New York Daily News, the two papers my Mom wakes up at 4 AM to read cover to cover before leaving for work. I took it for granted. I would flip through it while having breakfast. My girlfriend, with whom I now live, had a subscription to the New York Post, which is one third of the girlie Holy Trinity of news sources (Dateline and US Weekly are the other two components).

So my brother, a journalist, decided that to save me from the clutches of the New York Post he would get me a housewarming gift in the form of a New York Times subscription. I must say that I am happy for many reasons:

1) I know what is going on in the world this week. For example in one article a few days ago it said that based on poll numbers, Americans are increasingly of the belief that going into Iraq was the right decision. Amazing. In a related poll, 55% of Americans decided that the 45% who believe that are fuc-ing idiots.

2) It has not been stolen once. In Washington DC my Washington Post would get stolen at least once a week. If anyone knows someone in Cleveland Park who has confessed to newspaper theft I want him extradited to New York and held as an enemy combatant.

3) I can give my girlfriend the NY Times crossword puzzle each day, which is the only thing a man can give a woman that will be as satisfying and frustrating and confusing as the woman herself. I am especially looking forward to Friday’s crossword.

4) My first Sunday Times gets delivered on Sunday. I am hoping to be awake to see the forklift drop it off. I hear this Sunday they are adding a new 32 pages section on toe nail clippings, the last remaining reference topic not covered by the Encyclopedia Britannica that is the Sunday Times.

This one does not feature a kid named Cholesterol.

Sometimes I wonder why I work in the Bronx. Is it some part of a divine plan or fate? Some bank robber was once asked, “Why do you rob banks?” He replied, “Because that’s where the money is.” Why would a comedian work or live in the Bronx? Because that’s where the humor is.

I was walking to Court today to drop off some cases when I observed a verbal dispute break out between a Latino Man (LM) approximately 46 years old and an African-American (AA) approximately 16 years old. Fortunately it was a long “DON’T WALK” sign so I got to see everything develop.

AA: I AIN’T SCARED OF YOU!!

LM: blank stare

AA: I’ve knocked out way bigger nig-as than you. I ain’t scared

J-L: Like my size or someone smaller? And technically I am only half nig-, oh never mind.

LM: Just walk away

AA: YOU ALL TALK, YOU SCARED!

J-L: Verbs please

LM: I GOT A KNIFE. WALK AWAY I’M GIVING YOU A LEASE ON LIFE

J-L: Hey – I was thinking about writing a sitcom about the leasing company my Mom works for and calling it Lease on Life. Small world.

LM began walking away and AA followed him down the block in the direction of the courthouse which seemed like a place they should both be headed. Cut out the NYPD as middleman.

Some bystanders asked me if I was a lawyer and I said yes. They informed me that just threatening with a knife was a crime (they were probably thinking of menacing, which would require a knife or something resembling it to be displayed). And since AA was not President of the United States a mere threat would probably just be a violation.

I then ran and caught up to LM and AA and told them they should go see the new play Platanos and Collared Greens, which is a new off Broadway play about romance between an African American man and a Latina woman in NYC. My guess is that it does not end with the man’s younger brother getting stabbed by the woman’s father, which is why I am writing an off Broadway play called “Knocking out way bigger nig-as and the men who stab them.”

The best show on television gets snubbed… again.

I am not sure who is voting for the Emmy nominations, but they need to have their heads examined. The five shows selected for “Best Drama” this year were The Sopranos, Grey’s Anatomy, Boston Legal, House and Heroes. Most noticeably off the list is the best show on television The Wire. The show suffers from one major problem, but let’s look at the nominees.

First – we can dismiss Boston Legal. The show is a farce and is being pushed as a drama? The show is a collection of has-beens (James Spader who is sort of like a more sarcastic James Woods in his delivery, but much more gay-sounding), William Shatner and Candice Bergen.

Then we have Grey’s Anatomy. I will be honest – I have never watched this show. Any show that is that hugely popular with young women (and not on HBO) is almost guaranteed to be a steaming pile of sh-t. The only thing I know is the token black guy on the show called someone a “fag.”

House – not a bad show. I just didn’t know that tense theme music and medical issues could turn 45 minutes of sarcasm into drama. But not a bad show.

Heroes – very interested in seeing the DVDs (pre-ordered for august). I have heard the show is good (same things were said about early seasons of Lost and 24). If anyone knows if there are any black characters on the show I would appreciate that information.

And then there’s The Sopranos. The Sopranos for me is like seeing a great man or woman in a wheelchair late in life. You know that it is the same person who accomplished great things, but when they’re shi–ing in a diaper it’s hard not to recognize that things have changed substantially for the worse. In the last 21 episodes of the show the single greatest thing they did was play Journey’s Don’t Stop Believin’. I am a big believer in HBO, but you shouldn’t just hand them nominations just for the hell of it. Especially when HBO has the best show on television: The Wire.

Now I will try to be subtle about this, but the Wire does not get major nominations because it has too many black people (perhaps Kanye West can say that the emmys don’t care about black people at the next awards show). The fact is that despite HBO’s stellar reputation and universal critical acclaim for The Wire, its ratings are not great and the nominations are not there.

When a show like NYPD Blue or Sex and the City or The Sopranos come on and make people look at television differently and say, wow those issues or those portrayals or those sets look and feel like real life, we praise them and watch them and nominate them. And yet when a show shows a well rounded look at urban life and demonstrates from the street to city hall the issues affecting inner cities and the people who work and live in them we are not interested. You could say that they don’t speak to people, but how does the Sopranos speak to every day average Joe? Furthermore when other HBO programs are incredibly powerful and realistic (Band of Brothers as a great example) the nominations are overflowing. Even Deadwood, whose ratings were anemic secured major nominations its first two seasons.

One argument against this is that people want to be entertained and don’t want to see dreary and depressing stories on Sunday night. If that is what you assume the Wire is then you have already tipped your hand. The Wire is just as funny and entertaining as The Sopranos in parts, except at the end of each season you have thought a lot more than at the end of a season of the Sopranos.

The truth is The Wire is a once in a generation show that forces people to examine what the fu-k is going on without flinching at reality, while at the same time making its portrayal of reality as entertaining and diverse as the real thing. The Wire is the best show on television because it is well written, well acted, incredibly realistic, and most importantly thought provoking. The bottom line is that other shows on HBO and elsewhere have been nominated despite being “too realistic” or having bad ratings. I guess The Wire can only speak to you if you are listening.

If you really want to see the best show on television in 2007 just wait for season 4 of the Wire on DVD.

3 Men and a Little Lady

Since I am approaching one month with my new living situation I figured that it was time to give a status report on it. But then I reflected and said, “Hey I have not written anything funny in a while, so maybe I should do a humorous history of my roommates.” Well, here it is:

MY BROTHER

For the first 11 years of my life I had a roommate. He looked very much like me and was an excellent roommate. He was six and half years older than me and never made a stink about having to turn off the tv or do work outside after 9 pm when his freakishly tall younger brother went to sleep. When I had bad dreams as a little kid he would tell me it was ok, which is strange because most older brothers are required to punch you in the face and say, “stop being such a pussy.” Other than being very hairy and leaving said hair all over the sink – an excellent roommate.

The only problem began to arise when he started coming home from college and tried to act like it was still his room. It set a dangerous precedent in my house that despite being a legal adult the home was still open and to be treated as the primary home. It would lead to disastrous results as I treated it as such until the age of 28.

RANDOM TASK

I call my next roommate (sophomore year of college) Random Task because that was his nickname and he resembled one of the Austin Powers villains in Austin Powers 1. He was messy, but kept it confined to his side of the room. He also mistook my laundry for a urinal once. And he also would eat a large pizza by himself after midnight and then go to sleep three out of five weeknights. I had my own room junior and senior years.

MY TEAMMATE

In law school I roomed with a college teammate of mine. We were both 6’7”, which made it the tallest room apartment in law school/law center history. The things I remember most were watching a lot of movies, joking around, figuring out who would cave and unclog the shower drain, and the time when I ate cereal with a giant serving spoon because he used all the spoons and had not washed one. I learned two important lessons from that. One is that even when you are technically right it is better not to be a bitch. Secondly I am still good friends with him because we did not live together the next two years.

MY GIRLFRIEND

Now we are at my current living situation. Things are very good so far. She’s a morning person and so am I. Unfortunately her morning starts at 10 am and mine starts at 5:30 am. And when I come home from working out she often greets me with a “boys are gross.” But it is either really great or I am madly in love (or both), but in any case I am happy. And best of all she’s clean and neat, but the size 4 clothes strewn around the apartment can be a hazard sometimes. Where’s Random Task when you need him?

Disclaimer – clothes strewn about are size 2 only, need to say that so I do not need to look for a new roomie.

Continuing Legal Torture, er I mean Education

One of the great things about work, some people said to me while I was a student for 22 straight years, is that when you work at least you don’t have homework.

Well, those people did not have my job. Today, in addition to working a day shift at work, I have had to work into the early morning hours working on HOMEWORK assignments for a trial training program that my job mandates. That is the great thing about the legal profession. Every two years you must complete several hours of legal education so that you are up to date and fit to be a lawyer. So it allows you to continue the part of the education process that sucked most, without any of the enjoyable experiences of schooling.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I would take as many of these courses and lectures as I could, even if they were not requirements for me to keep my license to practice law. But I really thought I was done with homework. Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in.

Nothing else to report.

Does anyone want to see Transformers with me?

The last movie I saw was Evening. I think that explains the title of this blog. The movie is about women wondering about choices (children vs. independence, pads or tampons, those sorts of things). It is told through the memories of a dying old woman who loved a man forty years ago and has not seen him since. These movies, The Notebook is another prime example, are bad because no matter how much you believe the woman you are with is the love of your life and you hope for vice versa, you feel a little uneasy. Like in the back of your mind you fear that there was probably some guy in your lady’s past who fought fires from his private fire yacht, but only when he wasn’t playing professional tennis or buying square blocks of real estate in Manhattan. In other words these movies serve no good purpose. I would like to think there are some ladies out there reminiscing about their lost weekend of love with that awkwardly tall wannabe comedian, but they don’t exist.

My review of Evening is that like the life of the old lady in the movie, the filmmakers did not end it soon enough.

Then I spent a decent amount of the week reading, writing and watching Sex and the City with my girlfriend. This is a show that unlike many men I make no bones about having watched. It was entertaining and usually before or after another good HBO show. However, watching it with your girlfriend in 8 episode bursts is like having a real time critique of yourself as a boyfriend. With four women ranging from socialite prude to mediocre looking professional to glib writer to raging whore, every episode will say something that reminds you of how you fu-ked up somehow at some point.

So now I am watching The Departed to boost my testosterone. But I am writing a blog while watching it, which I guess sort of cancels it out. This week I will be seeing movies with explosions and stuff. Harry Potter, here I come.