Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Hurricane Katrina

The whole nightmare that Hurricane Katrina has created is very saddening. There is the terror that the people who have not been able to escape must be feeling; there is the grim news of many deaths; there is the worry for the future of the millions of people who have been effected; and there is the lawlessness and looting that has taken hold of the area. Human nature is often disappointing. So is immediate and immense media, government, and public concern over friggin' oil prices. Can't we worry about that later?

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Hurricane Katrina

Hurricane Katrina
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
This is a photo of Katrina herself, en route to her massive destruction and devestation of the Gulf area. This picture, and the others on my Flickr page, where taken from a plane window, hence the poor quality. It was kind of freaky seeing it from an airplane, and a little airplane at that!

Monday, August 29, 2005

In the immortal words of Ms. Courtney Love, I ask, "Didja miss me?"

Well I am back in the cube and have a free moment before getting out of here at 4:30. Details of my trip still forthcoming; I know that there are millions of you waiting with baited breath, but just have a little patience, as G 'n' R might say.

First, the news.

Katrina is basically destroying New Orleans and the Gulf Region. I am primarily concerned about the people there, especially those in the Superdome who could not get out of the area entirely. The roof is being torn off the Superdome or so I hear. I am also concerned about New Orleans as a place. It is one of my favorite places on Earth. Katrina is said to be one of the worst hurricanes since they started keeping track of hurricanes, and New Orleans is very vulnerable. I don't know how true it is, but I've heard before that people can't be buried below ground in New Orleans because the bodies will float up to the top of the soil when it rains. If that is the case, imagine how buildings will fair a hurricane of this enormity.

I havn't decided yet whether John Cameron Mitchell's new movie Shortbus, which features real sex scenes, is just a stunt or if it might really be artistic rather than simply pornographic. Either way, I plan to see it because I do happen to like both art and porn. ;) Also, Hedwig and the Angry Inch is one of my all time favorite movies and one of the few films that stirs emotion in me to the point of misty eyes. So I'm giving John the benefit of the doubt.

Meanwhile, Our Doomsday Debt is getting scary as a nation, and terrifying to me personally. If the average household has $7,500 in credit card debt, I am carrying the weight of about three households. Maybe I should start one of those begging-for-money websites that some people have had great success with.

On a final note, this editorial about the Pretty, White, and Missing is a well-observed critique of the attention on the, well, pretty, white and missing people with which the news-media is obsessed. I think it is important to remember that, while we should be concerned and vigilant about finding the pretty, white, and missing people out there, we should be concerned and vigilant about anyone who is missing--even the not-pretty and/or not-white people who disappear every day.

On a final final note, I am totally absorbed by the Sky Mall catalogue on planes. I want about 90% of the merchandise. It is temptation like this that has me in trouble with the aforementioned doomsday-debt, though for most of that debt I have nothing materialistic to show for.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Thank God It's Over.

The World Church of Assimilation Big Event 2005 is over. Details forthcoming.

I just got home a short time ago, and now I'm going to collapse from exhaustion.

In case you did not know, church people are crazy. Now I'm going to St. Mattress of the Holy Posturpedic. Holla.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Roast Revisited

Page Six reports that #2 back-up girlfriend of Rob Helpy Chalk, Sarah Silverman, mentions Joe Franklin in her The Aristocrats performance in a reference that ticked him off. He says he might sue, but grants that his appearance in the film will likely be good for his career. (The man is almost 80 years old. How much career does he have left?)

In other news,

is Courtney Love pregnant with Steve Coogan's baby? If so, Francis Bean is likely planning to drop kick her mother in the stomach to put Fetus Love out of its misery.

My top priority mission is that I do not miss my flight tomorrow...known around the house as "Operation Tuesday". I have the alarm set, my roommate alerted, and outside callers planned. There is no way I can sleep through all that. I will probably not be around a computer, but do not cry. I will return soon enough.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Super Mega Chinese Restaurant

I am going on my first ever business trip for The World Church of Assimilation from Tuesday through Sunday. I’m kind of excited they asked me, though it perhaps further solidifies my assimilation. Anyway, it will be good to get out of the City, this apartment, World Church Headquarters, and subways and busses, and work my fingers to the bone somewhere else. The hotel will likely be nicer than my permanent residence. The World Church is not playing around with this “conference”, and there will be nary a free moment to do anything from arrival to departure, though I can’t resist packing some of my more “flamboyant” items.

Saturday we had dim sum in Chinatown. Dim Sum is The Butch Stroll of brunch. No price fixe, you select mysterious items from trays that are being pushed around, you sit at tables with strangers, and the noise and chaos going on is kind of stressful. But it is the only thing you need to eat all day. Thankfully, K is familiar with the environment and knows what shit is and even the Chinese names.

i love you

i love you
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
I have seen this same lower-cased-cursive "i love you" lots of places. Heretofor I will document via the cameras I am going to have implanted into my eyes.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Too Funny

There is only one post on this spam blog, and four comments. All four comments are themselves spam.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Courtney Update

I guess we all saw this coming.

The Butch Stroll Costa Rica

I spent six months of my life in Costa Rica in an attempt to learn Spanish, which was my minor in college. I was obviously not Costa Rican, where they refer to themselves as "Ticos". The suffix "ico" designates the diminutive. For example, "chico" means boy, "chicico" means little boy. So being abnormally tall and lilly white (though I tan nicely if I do say so myself), I was something of a sore thumb there. The Ticos in general loved me, though it is somewhat a macho culture, and despite the title of this here blog, I am not exactly macho.

So when I would hear groups of men constantly shouting out to me, "eh, macho! macho!" I figured it was some kind of reverse nickname, like calling a fat guy "Slim" or a bald guy "Curly". I thought they were mocking me for having a little sugar in the tank.

As I spent a lot of time in the sun there, my hair (which is light brown) became pretty blonde. It turns out that in Costa Rica, "macho" means "blonde". The whole time I was hearing "macho! macho!" they were not making fun of my fagishness, but rather my blonde hair. They were calling me blondie.

I was getting cat calls in Costa Rica reserved for the leggy blondes. Though I guess I was a leggy blonde. Go figure.

I was also stabbed in Costa Rica, but that is another story for another time. Let it suffice to say the punk ass chapulines didn't get anything from me, and one of them probably had a broken rib or two.

On On Bullshit

I am a big fan of philosopher Harry Frankfurt. I discovered his work during research on free will, autonomy, liberty and the such. Until recently, his best known work was perhaps "Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person", in which he describes higher order desires. One day I'm going to start a "self-help" program based on controlling one's higher order desires, and make gazillions of dollars.

Last year I was in a bookstore in Florida, and was surprised to see a small hardbound book version of one of his article, "On Bullshit". That article is included in his book The Importance of What We Care About, and used to be widely available online. According to this article, Princeton University Press saw its potential as an important work of philosophy with a novelty title, and published it--giving Professor Frankfurt bestseller status for his sale of a single journal article!

I'm always happy when I see philosophers in the mainstream rather than hidden away in their universities and journals (like Art Caplan from the American Journal of Bioethics and beyond, for example, who is everywhere lately). On Bullshit is not the best piece of philosophy ever thought up, but it is an important one. If people are buying it for their coffee tables because of its eyecatching title, I hope they are at least reading its 67 pages. There is a lot of bullshit out there, and the thing about bullshit is it doesn't always appear as such. Professor Frankfurt has done his part to expose it for what it is.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The New York Times Reads This Blog

Of course they don't really read this here blog, but regarding the topic of my thesis, the front page of the NY Times today has a story about the dignity of patients in hospital settings which ties in perfectly. I will be sure to mention this tidbit in my email which I am sending soon, very soon.

Speaking of hospitals, Madonna was hospitalized today after falling off a horse. It's on AP, Reuters, and everywhere really. She broke her collar bone, some ribs, and a hand. I hope she has a quick recovery--I hear breaking a collar bone takes forever to heal--and that it is as comfortable as possible. It's a little crass, but I couldn't help it: my first thought was, "I'm glad she's rich." Not just because she'll get the best care available, but also because she'll have people to care for her while she recovers. I do love her and wish her all the best. Get well soon, Madge!

Monday, August 15, 2005

She wants to be the girl with the most cake...

Granted, they cut most of her "antics". But I have to say I was a little too hard earlier on my girl Courtney. The New York Times summarizes the night. They note her stumble on the word "jokes" with "yokes", but they don't note that she corrected herself and then made up for it by pressing one nostril closed and snorting hard. Funny, Courtney. She was a little wild on the sidelines (I'm sure Pam was thinking this is about me, bitch, but then again, she was likely glad some the jokes were taken away from her and the recurring theme of her gaping vagina).

Overall, Courtney did very well delivering her jokes. I was proud of her for her stand-up debut.

Dead Chicken on the Butch Stroll

Last night it stooormed. I enjoy a good storm, complete with thunder and lightening, so long as I'm not caught out in it. I also welcomed the rain and wind as it has been swealtering and this sweaty old whore of a city needed a shower to cool her off, if not make her smell better. Well, the storm knocked the phone out so I was without an internet connection all night. I will admit that I went through a painful withdrawal. I need the interwebs for, well, a lot of things. This morning, though, I took a big hit and all is well.

On Saturday night I took a walk to the park before going out on the town. I came to a crosswalk and as I waited to cross the street I noticed a plastic bag of the grocery store variety sitting at the foot of a lamppost. I looked more closely and noticed that some kind of large bird was stuffed inside. A chicken? Rooster? It was pretty big, from what I could tell. It had brown feathers. It's foot--which was bigger than I'd imagine a chicken foot to be but I am admittedly not very familiar with chicken feet--was just hanging out of the bag, so pitifully. It was dead of course. Upon discussion of this with my people, I think it probably had something to do with either Santeria or a cockfighting ring (both of which are popular things in Queens).

It is times like these that make me think I wish I had my camera. I do realize that it is kind of sick that I would have taken a picture of it.

I have seen places that openly sell "pollo vivo" in QUeens which is in and of itself disturbing on a number of levels. Who the hell needs a LIVE CHICKEN in New York City? Restaurants? Is breaking the neck and tearing the feathers out of a bird really sanitary in a shoebox sized New York kitchen? seriously, WHO THE HELL NEEDS A LIVE CHICKEN IN NEW YORK CITY?

As the woman I love to hate (actually, I don't really love to, I just do) Cindy Adams would say, "Only in New York, kids. Only in New York."

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Is this good, or does it sound crazy?

I promised myself that today, no excuses, I was going to come up with my official thesis topic to submit to my professor before I can go out. So I've been working on it, and now here I am all fresh and shiny, kind of jonesing for a drink and some music, so hopefully I didn't do this half ass. What do you think? If you are a non-philosopher, it might sound a little jargony, but even if you're not it's not that technical a subject that you shouldn't be able to make sense out of it. So what do you think, countless millions? (Please note that using just "her" in place of "his" or "his or her" is a trend I've picked up from the literature.) ;)

Dear Favorite Professor,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you. I was overly eager to get a topic in, not allowing myself time to really think it through. I have been doing some reading and thinking about your suggestions. The Healer's Power is great--it has been enjoyable and has influenced my thinking about bioethics a lot. I've also reviewed a lot of the bioethics handouts I've collected from classes, especially the ones on autonomy and paternalism. Also, I've been working through Art Caplan book, Am I My Brother's Keeper?. Ideally, my thesis be about doctor's & patient's autonomy, power, personhood, and limitations. So without further ado, I submit this for your review, critique, and suggestions:

Doctors rank highly on the social-status scale in the USA. Because of the amount of study and training involved in their becoming doctors, and the value we place on our health, this status is not wholly unwarranted. But along with this status comes a degree of social power that should be kept in check.

By becoming a doctor, one sacrifices a degree of his autonomy. A doctor who obejcts to birth control, for example, cannot ethically withhold it from a patient who wants or needs it. The patient's autonomy must be weighed and balanced against that of the doctor.

Given tht a patient is competent, she is in a position to act, autonomously, against the doctor's advice. Given that she is not competent, the doctor (with the help of the state) may determine that coercion is required to administer a treatment. (Determining competency is, of course, at the heart of the problem of paternalism.)

Authentic autonomy entails that one may make a "bad" decision. One can autonomously ruin her life, so where should paternalism begin in terms of "bad" medical decisions? Similarly, a doctor's values may conflict with what the patient deems best for herself. A doctor's power--his autonomy to do what he feels best for the patient from prescribing medicine to performing procedures--may be limited by both professional obligations, but also by the patient's needs.

I plan to examine these circumstances that limit the exercise of power, autonomy, and paternalism in my thesis.

I hope you are enjoying the summer! Once again and a million times over, thanks for doing the tedious work of being my advisor. Let's get fucked up one night and go out on the B. Stroll, yowntoo?


Ok, just kidding about the last sentence. But other than that...what do you think?

My Experience as a Paparazzi: Madonna and Child

Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
When I first got my camera, which is enormous by digital cam standards, I decided to do a little paparazzi work. So, knowing ole Madge Ritchie was in town. At the time, I had a part time job close by to her New York apartment, so I figured after work I'd swing by and just see if I could get a glimpse. This goes against everything I stand for in terms of celebrity worship and my hatred for it, but...what can I say. Madonna is different, to me at least.

There were a few other people--professional paparazzi--stalking her across the street. They had apparantly been there a long time as they were sweaty messes with hi tech equipment, ready for the money shot. The man in the front of the picture came out and was looking up and down the road, which signaled to the experts that she was apparantly on her way. He saw how I stayed across the road with my relatively little camera and must have figured I was a half-way respectful fan, rather than a ravenous paparazzi, so he motioned for me to come to him.

He said to everyone there as her car approached with its tented windows, "I'll let you get your shot, BUT DO NOT APPROACH THE VEHICLE." Then he said to me, "You can stand right here in front."

I was floored and flattered! I thanked him profusely. Then the car pulled up.

The "do not approach the car" rule was flushed down the toilet as the paparazzi SURROUNDED IT, getting up on the windows, in Madonna and her daughters face, screaming at her to turn, do this, do that. It was crazy.

So despite my preferred status as paparazzi photog, I only got her from behind.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Nothin' But Love for Ya, Courtney...

And when I touched your limousine
I really felt the vibe
It said I love you, babygirl, you know
'Cause I can read your mind

Regarding Courtney Love's antics at the Pamela Anderson roast for Comedy Central, Jimmy Kimmel, the host, said in reply to Courtney's proclamation that she is "sober over a year now" that "if this is sober, there is a problem." Yesterday she reportedly tested positive for drug use which of course violates her parole.

COURTNEY! Pull it together sister. You are a prominent representative of The Butch Stroll--indeed, you are the epitome of what it means to be on The Butch Stroll. You are sex, drugs, rock n' roll. So stop with the coochie-flash (at least she waxed), oxycontin, and musicless mindlessness at things being filmed for TV! You can't just flash your cooter all willy-nilly or they'll cut your parts out of the program, denying you the attention you so desperately crave. What's more, you got to learn to handle your drugs so as to avoid emergency response teams arriving at your hotel because you fell the fuck out. Let's try to avoid jail and financial ruin, and let's try to spare Francis Bean from the inevitable social ruin that is born of being your daughter. PULL IT TOGETHER OR YOU'RE GETTING A TIME OUT.

Oh, and call me. I want to get some toot and talk about the state of mankind.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

I never want to sound like I'm defending the MTA, but...

N Train
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
The Straphangers Campaign has released a study about NYC subways. The 6 train scored the highest overall rating, while the N train scored worst. I am in constant disagreement with these studies put out by the Straphanger's Campaign. For example, they constantly praise the 7 train which, in my experience, is filthy, old, and rickity--it really feels like it's going to jump the tracks and kill passengers. And it is stuffed with some of the world's smelliest, nastiest human beings. Yet it scores high. Then the N train, which is relatively peaceful and easy to get a seat on (if you go to the back like a smart person, rather than try to stuff yourself into the middle three cars like the vast sea of dumbasses in Times Square station). Yet it scores low. I don't know why they are always basically proclaiming the opposite of what i witness on a daily basis.

The transit-advocacy group's eighth annual "State of the Subways" report ranks subway lines based on what a $2 ride is really worth. The 6 came in first, at $1.35, while the N finished last, at a measly 60 cents.

I don't think that this is a good way to "rank" the train lines at all. For one thing, if you have an unlimited card, you are not paying $2 in the first place. For another thing, your fare gets you unlimited transfers. So you may only get your 60 cents worth on the N, for example, but you would more than make up for it considering you could in theory transfer a hundred more times.

"Some riders get a lot more for their money than others," said Gene Russianoff, staff lawyer for the Straphangers Campaign.

This is true, but again, this has more to do with what kind of metrocard you purchase, and how often you ride the trains, than it does with their rankings.

Russianoff, however, said it's unclear whether certain sections of the city have better subway service than other parts.

Then why are we even talking about this?

The findings in the 42-page report is more bad news for riders of the N line — which is nicknamed the "Never" by passengers, for "never" being on time. It runs from Astoria, Queens, to Coney Island.

Russianoff said N riders waited two decades for express service to Midtown to be restored in February 2004 — only to see New York City Transit fail to address previous problems of cleanliness, lack of clear announcements and crowded service.

What the hell is this mysterious "express service to Midtown"? The W--which runs on the same track as the N--used to run express for a few stops in Queens, but that ceased after 9/11 2001. There is no express N train. So what the fuck is that supposed to even mean?

He said the 6 scored top grades, in part, because of the high-tech subway cars that began replacing the line's fleet in recent years. Now its cars break down less frequently, announcements are automated, and service is regularly on time.

My experience--for what it's worth--with the 6 train is that, yes, the trains are new, but they are filthy already, and have huge waits for them to arrive. What's this "on time" stuff about anyway? Does anybody really believe that there is a "schedule" that is really adhered to in terms of trains coming and going? I honestly don't think there is -- they just arrive when they arrive, and you hope there's not too much time between the two arrivals.

One thing I hate is when it's late at night and you are fooled into thinking the train is coming--when in fact it is the trash pick up train which is incredibly slow to arrive and depart. Then even when the train does come, you know you're behind the trash-train! Sucks. But I digress.

Let me conclude by saying I think the MTA is kind of crooked and the train service is questionable. But I have to agree, reluctantly, with the MTA spokesman who claims the "methodology" of the Straphanger's Campaign study is "flawed".

She's a Rock Star

Courtney Love has a special place in my heart. But good God, Courtney.

Can ya hold it together for at least an hour of television?

The whole story unfolds at Starletto.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005


I just got Firefox, and I discover that this blog displays properly in Firefox. It does not in Explorer. Why? Anyway, if you look at this blog please look at it with Firefox.

(Why is it "done, but with errors on page"? Why is the sidebar waaay down there, rather than over there (even before I add anything to any template) --> ? Why is my blogroll a totally different font and font size than the rest of the sidebar?) Why do fools fall in love?

Cheers, thanks a lot.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

In Memory of Peter Jennings: My Love Affair and Subsequent Abusive Relationship with Smoking

I come from the place from where American tobacco comes. In fact, we have a town called Tobaccoville. Cigarettes are a part of life in my Southern town and in Southern culture. You often see bumper stickers and liscence plates that say such things as "Tobacco pays my bills." An immense irony is that many of the local hospitals' buildings were built with donations from the tobacco company.

My father worked for the tobacco company--in Tobaccoville--for a large part of his life, until he was recently laid off. When my brother and I were growing up, our dad smoked. My uncles smoked. My aunts smoked. My paternal grandfather smoked and my maternal grandmother smoked. Somehow my mother managed to never touch a cigarette to this day. But everybody else always smoked. Smoking was something I associated with adulthood in general and manhood in particular. My brother, who is a few years older, picked it up eventually. Then, seemingly inevitably, so did I--knowing damn good and well that it ruins your health. Oh, to be young and invincible once again.

It starts with your uncle thumping a butt in the yard. While your father bitches at him about thumping his butts in our yard, you sneak out to the rising smoke to see what this cigarette smoking is all about. You take that last couple of drags. You cough. You catch a little buzz. You feel grown-up and autonomous, though you don't know what either grown-upness or autonomy really entail. Then you stomp it out and forget about it, until the next time one goes flying out into the yard.

At the young age of 14, I could walk up the road, through the elementary school parking lot, to the Citgo on the main drag, and buy the pack of my choice for $1.50, no questions asked. Then you turn 16, you get a driver's license and a car. You are suddenly able to be away from your family for extended periods of time. You start buying packs here and there not just to be "cool", but to get that little buzz going. The next thing you know, you smoke a pack a day. You are a smoker. You've fallen into the trap. And you don't even get the buzz anymore, just the intense cravings. Your trying to get away with smoking in the bathroom at school. You're hooked. Then one day you are 29, been smoking for over 15 years, and are now paying $7.00 a day in NYC to support your habit. I could be a heroin addict for cheaper!

I have done every drug you have ever heard of, and probably many that you have not heard of, but none of them have ever caught me. I can drink 300 pound Irishmen under the table, and then go months without a drink. I am not an alcoholic or a drug addict though I have a lot of both in my life. But I wish I had never smoked that first cigarette. It is a powerful force over me. Cigarettes, in many important ways, control my life. It begins and ends everything I do. You always have to consider when you'll be able to have your next one. You use them to measure time, to fill time, and to pass time.

In the year 2005, no one does not know that smoking is bad for you. It is the single worst thing you can actively do to your health. The death of Peter Jennings may raise "awareness"...but not really. People are already aware. We've all seen the pictures of charcoal lungs, of people on respirators, of the woman with the whole in her throat--who still smokes, through the hole. Smokers, myself included, know the bad effects of smoking. All of this speaks to the power of the addiction -- but not the nature of addiction.

I think addiction boils down to a matter of higher order desires. I hear people defend their smoking, saying they enjoy it and why should they give it up? "I could quit if I wanted to," they say, "but I don't want to." But I think these people are just being dishonest with themselves. They may want to smoke, but they don't want to want to smoke. I, for one, wish I didn't want to smoke. The hierarchy of desire goes on up and up and up ... but it's always the desire to smoke that wins out over the desire not to smoke. It's tough.

I have the patches ready for use. I keep telling myself that I'm waiting for a good time to start using them -- but there's never a good time. This semester I have to write a thesis and I imagine the sheer torture of all that reading and writing without a delicious cigarette in between. After I'm done with my master's, I'm sure I'll pick another stressor that prevents me from quitting "right now". I know all of this is going on within me psychologically. I just can't get a grasp over it. I can always hear the devil on my right shoulder, no matter how loud the angel on the other shoulder tries to shout him down.

I feel the effects of smoking on my health. I get short of breath, I have some light aching in my lungs and chest in the morning, my house reaks of smoke (as my roommate smokes too), and I have perpetual fatigue. I also look at my brother and his constant heavy breathing and I worry. But I still smoke.

K suggests that we go get hypnotized. He has a friend who has been quit for months after being hypnotized, and he was a heavy smoker before. I don't know, though, if it would work for me. I flatter myself by thinking that I'm too sly to be hypnotized. I don't know, maybe I'll try it. Smoking is more than just a craving for nicotine. It is the ritual, the method, the habit. If I am going to quit smoking, I'd also have to quit everything else I enjoy from coffee to sex--everything that makes you crave a stogie. I wish there was a magic solution to the problem of being a smoker.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Cheerleaders Use Chant to Help Police

This isn't The Onion, folks. This is really a story from the AP.

ANN ARBOR, Mich. - A man who left an accident scene was tracked down with the help of some cheerleaders who witnessed the crash and turned his license plate number into a cheer, police said.

Members of the Lincoln High School varsity cheerleading squad from neighboring Ypsilanti were in Ann Arbor for a Universal Cheerleaders Association's camp when they saw the wreck near the University of Michigan campus.

"I knew I was going to not remember it because there was too much going on," coach Patricia Clark said Monday on NBC's "Today." "So, when I ran down the street and got the plate number, I yelled to the girls: 'Remember this!'"

The cheerleaders put their skills to work, chanting the license number.

"The coach just said it and we were saying it over and over, and then it just turned into a big chant since we kept repeating it," said Kimmie Ostrowski, a senior captain for the team who also appeared on "Today."

According to police reports, a truck hit a car stopped at a traffic light Wednesday, and the impact forced that car into another vehicle, which then hit another one.

The truck driver, found at his home, told officers he didn't think the damage was severe enough to stop, police Lt. Mike Logghe told The Ann Arbor News.

The man wasn't arrested and his name wasn't released, but police said he could face a misdemeanor charge of leaving the scene of an accident.

How do news agencies even find out about non-newsworthy crap like this?

Like, make your own jokes, ya'll.

Peter Jennings.

There's actually a touching little piece about Peter Jenning's death at Gawker, of all places, this morning. I am sending vibes via the internet to his family and friends. I hope they find comfort.

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Hounds, Homies, and Trich

April 30, 2005 003
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
The Hood Hounds, available in a gumball machine near you, are apparantly the next big thing after the inexplicable popularity of Homies. I remember the first time I saw a gumball machine full of Homies. Sheer bafflement. Whatever happened to those slimy things that would slither down after you slung 'em onto the wall?

Here is another picture of Vent. I hereby declare that I am chronicalling all appearances of this tag.

And here is a picture of me, all broke down.

Note the curly piece of hair in the front. It's not really curly, it is just kind of permed because I twirl that piece incessently. People constantly implore me to stop. But I can't help it. I think I have a mild form of trich.

Friday, August 05, 2005

The Formula

Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
Here it is, the secret formula: fiber + water = regularity.

Good to know.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Dove ads

People are saying intelligent things about the true nature of those Dove ads that are on the side of every bus, building, and phone booth in this City, but the true feelings of those models? I think some vandals have summed it up here: I hate my agent.

Hierarchy in Rodentia

Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
In 1988, Harold A. Herzog, Jr. wrote in American Psychologist about "The Moral Status of Mice". Particularly, he highlights the "paradoxes and inconsistencies" inherent in the "roles and labels" we give living things. The article is not an argument about what is right or wrong, but how the way things are labeled effects our perceptions of what is right or wrong.

Mice are an intriquing example of this. No doubt, we think differently about giant carnivorous mice than we do about a little squeaky that comes in through a perfectly shaped hole in the wall ala Jerry. But take the research laboratory, inside of which are housed thousands of mice--"good" mice, "pest" mice, and feeders.

These mice are treated with great care, for one day it will be their fate to participate in research--and ultimately die--for the betterment of human beings. Multi-million dollar facilities are constructed for the research in which they are involved.

But outside their realm as research subjects, there are other mice -- pest mice. These mice are treated in ways from which the research mice are protected by "animal care committees" and the Department of Agriculture. It would be unlikely that that a study would be allowed wherein a mouse is glued to a piece of cardboard. Yet that is the fate of many of the "pest mice" that are in the building suffer. A miserable way to die, but an effective way to kill.

Alongside the research mice, who exist solely to become subjects of research, there are feeder mice, who exist soley to be fed live to reptile research subjects, as many of them will only eat live food. They are bred for this purpose alone. The lot they were caste is the only thing that distinguishes them from the research mice.

Sometimes, the research mice (and the feeders for that matter) escape. Among thousands of their kind, it is inevitable. Once they hit the floor they lose favor with the researchers. They are tainted -- they become pest mice.

The irony is that in many of these facilities, where the buildings are new, never had a mouse problem before the research animals were introduced. The pest mice, then, were all at one point higher-valued research subjects. Another irony is that, perhaps, it is better (in some ways) to be a pest, as death awaits in the form of traps, but it is not inevitable as it is for the research mice, who will surely die for science.

In 1971, confessional poets Maxine Kumin and Anne Sexton published a children's book on this very subject, entitled Joey and the Birthday Present. Joey was a field mouse that lived with one hundred and three other mice in a barn. Prince was the birthday present -- a gift to a young boy. Prince lived in a cage with a wheel, water, and food. A life of luxury compared to the hard living, survivalist nature of field mice life.

Those two mice become friends, but, in the end, Prince chooses not to join Joey in the barn. "I am a tame white mouse," he says. "I belong in a cage." They decide that the birthday present cannot run away, so Prince spends a lot of time in the warm room running on his wheel and looking in the mirror. Prince could not sacrifice his status as one of the "good" mice.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Don't worry, it's not pornography...

The Internet was made for cool stuff like this: Fly Guy!

Monday, August 01, 2005

"What You Should Know About Blog Depression"

There was so much I wanted to write about today, but eh. Here's this public service pamphlet.