UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu  feed it up!
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You are just a number to me! And that number is: PAGES UD MADE: My Books Page My Reviews Page My Reference Page My Music Page My Pictures My Store UD-RELATED PAGES: My LiveJournal My MySpace music page My Flickr page My del.icio.us page My Last.fm page My Amazon Wishlist HEAVY ROTATION Dan Deacon: Bromst Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavillion Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago Vampire Weekend: Vampire Weekend Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes BLOGS ETC claude le monde nuncstans rock 'em stock 'em tomato nation postmodern drunkard tuckova 22 ghastly mess constintina total virility fuzzysquid drunken bee stacey nightmare elyse from ANTM stereolabrat dark side points jf_franklin 123 i love you READ NOW brotherhood 2.0 NOT BLOGS ETC qwantz (dinosaur comix) go fug yourself the burg cat and girl book of ratings married to the sea icanhascheezburger fire joe morgan fivethirtyeight.com READ NOW hospitality on parade WEIRD LOVE dead amusement pks craters! all content © 2002-2010 Jeremy Broomfield 
Hosted by: HostRocket.Com Comments by: YACCS PRAISE & REVIEWS "[UD] is a genius." --Christian Oates "[Claudia] is fucking awesome, and [UD] is a genius. And vice versa. You should all buy Fear Not." --Tricia Howey MOTTO egeo huic vigorum MY WRESTLING NAME Titan Gently MY PUNK NAME Razor Ection 
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Thursday, March 25, 2004
First of all, thanks to Black Joe for my motto in Latin (which you'll see below -- wait for it). At least somebody around here sees my pleas as other than rhetorical. Now somebody please send me a record contract. I don't care what language it's in.
I saw an ice cream truck driver screaming obscenities at a car that had, I dunno, cut him off or something, and the vision of this guy in a yellow SpongeBob shirt literally hanging out of the side of his vehicle and shaking his fist at this other guy, well, it left me quaking with a frisson of private glee. Like if you catch your elementary school principal sneaking a smoke. You're not supposed to be human, dude. You're supposed to project a cheery façade, smiling for the children, wrapping napkins around their cones and sticks so that their little fingers won't get stickier than necessary. But I've already told you about the Drug Truck on my block, so you know I don't have any illusions about the beatitude of ice cream truckers. Well, I just re-read that, and it's a boring and banal observation of a totally typical subversion of expectation. Everybody likes that shit except church ladies. Drunken clowns, junkie babysitters, angry Santas, stoner bus drivers, whatever: staples of lazy comedy, but a rare enough source of real-life mirth. Shut up. Speaking of clowns, here's a quote I liked from a movie I saw last night: WAITER #1: I'm just doing this job to pay my way through clown school. WAITER #2: You want to be a clown? WAITER #1: Well, I don't know. But I definitely want clown skills. Heh. Yesterday as the conductor on the train was announcing the next stop, I heard the telltale blooping of his GameBoy. It was funny, and we the passengers all looked around at each other like ho ho ho listen to the blooping! Only human after all! What a delicious subversion of expectation! Meanwhile, was that the sound of a baby carriage being smashed between a pair of New York's famous "Closin' Duhz"? Dude! Unless that's an MTA approved training sim -- which I doubt, seeing as they apparently don't have the budget to create a MetroCard whose paint won't rub away to its nacreous underlayer within a few weeks of normal use -- stop playing UberMarioDeathPlosion on the fucking train! I don't want you worrying about getting that extra guy while a REAL GUY slurps between the train and the platform and you give the green light to the motorman (Ooh ooh I got fireballs!) and you corkscrew the real fucker's legs off his body, forcing the conductors behind you to apologize for the "sick" passenger at West 4th, and the biohazard mop brigade to put down their comic books and pick up slithery passenger entrails! Fuck! While I remained vigilant for the slushy sounds of mashed passenger, I looked around the last car of the F train. Now everybody "knows" that the front car of the F is the "singles car" wa ha ha where you're supposed to, I dunno, ask people about their iPods or whatever if their t-shirts are ironic enough. But what about the back of the F train? The back is for couples on the decline, or for the broken-hearted. I saw this chick in Uggs and black knee sox, with pearls hanging over a yellow sweater. She looked sad. I gave her a smile, because that's about all I have to give anymore. Egeo huic vigorum, beeyotchka. 0 comments |
OTHER REVIEWS: Scrabble NEW! LATEST BOOK REVIEWS: The Game Moneyball One-Upsmanship Siddhartha You need the Fear Not Guide to Life. Buy it already. ($4) Now available! The Broomfield Variations CD ($10) or go to The UD Store 
MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS Chan Marshall Rotem of the IDF Eleanor Friedberger Amy Goodman Bernardine Dohrn ('69) Maya Rudolph Joanna Newsom Imogen Heap Caroline Dhavernas Shana Rae Ray DISALLOWED FOREVER "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!" - "from whence" - "...the exception that proves the rule" - any use of the question "spit or swallow?" - the phrase "drop trou" - fake-o reviewer verbs: "penned" for wrote "helmed" for directed "lensed" for whatever - "expat" - the euphemism "passed away" - pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!" (see also: "grassy-ass!") PET PEEVES "confinscated" - trying children "as adults" - "drownded" - misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT. - tattoos in the Courier font - any use of Comic Sans |