Universal Donor
We can ill afford
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You are just a number
to me! And that number
is:

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PAGES UD MADE:

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My Books Page

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My Reviews Page

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My Reference Page

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My Music Page

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My Pictures

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My Store

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UD-RELATED PAGES:

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My LiveJournal

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My MySpace music page

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My Flickr page

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My del.icio.us page

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My Last.fm page

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My Amazon Wishlist

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HEAVY ROTATION

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Dan Deacon:
Bromst
Animal Collective:
Merriweather Post Pavillion
Bon Iver:
For Emma, Forever Ago
Vampire Weekend:
Vampire Weekend
Fleet Foxes:
Fleet Foxes

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BLOGS ETC

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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

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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

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dead amusement pks
craters!

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all content
© 2002-2010
Jeremy Broomfield

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PRAISE & REVIEWS

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"[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

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egeo huic vigorum

MY WRESTLING NAME

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Titan Gently

MY PUNK NAME

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Razor Ection







WHO LINKS TO UD?

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• from Technorati
• from Google
• from Yahoo



and here's something
weird: my place
in Humor 3-space

  I have no foundation on which to build a tower of complaint today, because it's just fucking beautiful out there, but god knows I can try. I went outside for lunch to get some sun on my shoulders before I start rocking the mad farmer tan, and was disgusted to see that I was not allowed to sprawl on Bryant Park's grass because "the sod is establishing its root system"! Fuck you, sod! If they'd stop tearing up the lawn every time a bunch of anorectic paranarcissists feel like risking their feeble anklebones on the fucking catwalk, maybe your roots would be a little hardier. I am yelling at sod now.
     But New Yorkers are too polite and law-abiding by half, and nobody saw fit to step over the shin-high rope onto the ridiculously luscious and inviting lawn. Giuliani trained us all to be quivering drool-puddles in the face of the slightest authority: A FUCKING SIGN. There may have been jackbooted enforcers hiding in the shrubbery or in the decommissioned public restrooms, but if they're not arresting the Underpants Cowboy (who I refuse to refer to as the "naked" cowboy because: duh) or The Guy With A Fucking HAWK, why bother the grass-layers-on?
     So everybody just crowds the perimeter of the lawn like idiots. I swear I could have thrown a hundred-dollar bill into the middle of the lawn and people would just have eyed it hungrily and then shrugged, hoping for a fortuitous gust. THIS CITY HAS BEEN INFANTILIZED. Okay okay okay, I don't really think that selfish scofflawdom is good, especially because the respecting the sod sign thing is a face-slapping refutation of the Tragedy of the Commons, right? Or a classic example of the Prisoner's Dilemma-type problem where every individual sacrifices a little for the future good of everyone? And it's working? HOLY FUCK. Is this what life is like in small, rich suburbs with achingly attentive PTAs and highway-adoptions and Neighborhood Watches? DO I GAG OR REJOICE?
     Well, here's something worth rejoicing, anyway: I saw workmen installing the early-stage viscera of a future Jamba Juice on 42nd street. In case you don't know, JJ is a juice chain that I've only seen in Los Angeles, and of which I have rose-colored vacation memories. My first trip to LA was probably my best vacation ever (despite what I may have told subsequent or previous hosts) and the memories fill my sensorium thusly: taste: Jamba Juice; sound: Rufus Wainwright's first album and Neutral Milk Hotel's second; sight: palm trees, highway, SuperMario64; smell: Venice's relatively smogless seabreeze; touch: abundant and wonderful naked flesh. Woo! That was a nice vacation!
     Everything until my May vacation is a sham. I cannot concentrate on anything. I let my six-month warning glide by, and I am suffering for it. You will suffer by extension. If they finish building the Jamba Juice before I fly to California, I will seriously cry.
posted by Universal Donor 4:12 PM 0 comments

OTHER REVIEWS:
Scrabble NEW!

LATEST BOOK REVIEWS:
The Game
Moneyball
One-Upsmanship
Siddhartha

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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

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

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Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
Eleanor Friedberger
Amy Goodman
Bernardine Dohrn ('69)
Maya Rudolph
Joanna Newsom
Imogen Heap
Caroline Dhavernas

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Shana Rae Ray

DISALLOWED FOREVER

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"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
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"from whence"
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"...the exception that proves the rule"
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any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
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the phrase "drop trou"
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fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
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"expat"
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the euphemism
"passed away"
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pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")

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PET PEEVES

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"confinscated"
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trying children "as adults"
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"drownded"
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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.
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tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans

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