Best Four Things I've Learned in the Last Four Days

1) While walking around Soho, you have to look up from time to time. Because then you might discover things like old buildings that look like Corinthian columns made out of a bunch of Corinthian columns, instead of dumb old fancy stores and pretty people. (I guess you had to be there . . . or maybe have to see the full-size version of this photo.)

2) How to make bean croquettes. Now I eat bean croquettes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner . . . just like how last week I was eating egg & hamburger sandwiches every day, and the week before that it was nonstop with the BLTs, and before that it was crazy crazy with the grillt cheese.

3) Some people think I'm kidding when I talk about how awesome my Admiralty Law class is, like it's just some joke I'm making to keep myself interested in the Law of the Sea. Well, in class we were reading a marine insurance contract, and this is what it said concerning "Perils":

Touching the Adventures and Perils which the Undewriters are contented to bear and take upon themselves, they are of the Seas, Men-of-War, Fire, Lightning, Earthquake, Enemies, Pirates, Rovers, Assailing Thieves, Jettisons, Letters of Mart and Counter-Mart, Surprisals, Takings at Sea, Arrests, Restraints, and Detainments of all Kings, Princes and Peoples, of which nation, condition or quality soever, Barratry of the Master and Mariners and of all other like Perils, Losses and Misfortunes that have or shall come to the Hurt, Detriment or Damage of the Vessel, or any part thereof, excepting, however, such of the foregoing perils as may be excluded by provsisions elsewhere in the Policy or by endorsement thereon.

"Enemies, Pirates, Rovers, Assailing Thieves"? Are you kidding me? And this isn't a contract from the 1700's, this is from something someone signed in 1977, the year of my birth. You can have your "party of the first part and party of the second part" dryland agreements, I'm casting off to concern myself with the "Adventures and Perils which the Underwriters are contented to bear and take upon themselves."

4) I hope my every mention of Elvis Costello, my neighbor, doesn't seem like name dropping. Hello? He's my neighbor. You wouldn't be rolling your eyes if I was talking about the Lunds or VanVersts everyday, would you, dear reader? Anyway, I've found out what apartment Mr. Costello and his wife Ms. Diana Krall in. How? There was a gigantic floral arrangement in the lobby this afternoon with a note prominently displayed, clearly addressed to "Ms. Diana Krall. . . . " Sorry. Not telling. Doesn't seem right.

Happy Valentine's Day

Best Bad News, the Update

Nevermind. Arrested Development isn't going away. The semi-official word, here.

Best Bad News, the Sequel

Jimmy Smith dies taking a nap? Check it. Guess it was good I caught him when I did. I wonder how many more shows he played after that one?

Best Bad News

The internet is abuzz today with rumors/facts about the fate of Arrested Development -- production has definitely been scaled back on the program (from 24 episodes this season to 18), but some (David Cross) seem to be saying it's dead. This is bad news, right? But on the bright side, I've been watching Arrested Development lately and wondering where it could be heading, what it would be about next season and the season after that . . . I mean, George Bluth has gone from being in jail to hiding in Mexico to hiding in the model home's attic, what next? And while I like the continuity of their being a second episode about the Date Auction, are we to expect this every year? If Arrested Development gets/has gotten the axe here at the end of its second season, perhaps it'll give its writers the opportunity to wrap up the series as if it were one big long story. In fact, Arrested Development has always sort of reminded me of a Mexican soap opera, and Mexican soap operas are actually all just big, long miniseries. Mexico doesn't have a "As the World Turns" that's been going for decades, even their most popular series are all constructed with a beginning and end in mind--whether it span a few months or a few years. I know, I know, how thoroughly foreign a notion for American TV tastes to have to handle, but at least (and it's a lousy at least to be suggesting) Arrested Development may be leaving us long before it wears out its welcome . . . I mean, where's Buster supposed to go after the army? Wouldn't we all like to just keep him running around his mother's apartment, trying to catch a bird?

Oddly enough, this week's Onion AV Club features a very interesting interview with Arrested Development creator Mitchell Hurwitz that I haven't read all the way through yet. . . but I have gotten to the part of the interview where he admits that the Arrested Development writers don't have any long term plans for the series and are just making it up as they go along, so I stick to my suggestion they wrap it up like a Mexican soap opera.

Best Continued Growth in Fame

Homegirl Rebecca Gholdston's conquest of the Known Universe continues. Are you ready for the amazing? (This really mostly applies to people who actually know Rebecca.) Check out this Onion point-counterpoint, and scroll down. All the way down. Unbelievable. Fortunately for me, Rebecca sent me an email warning me of this occurrence . . . had I discovered it myself, my brain would have probably exploded from amazement.

Don't get it? You see, the picture of "Sally Toefer" is really a picture of my/our pal Rebecca that was taken of her by Onion operatives at some Bay Area function. To me, that is wild. And don't get confused, Rebecca isn't actually working for the Onion, just modeling for them.

Remember when Rebecca came to New York, way back at the beginning of October? That was a great time.

Best Songs About Feelings

Dear Readers:
Steady Mobbin' has been getting off the charts traffic lately, it seems the best way for me to get visitors is to not update. Well, in order to free up some bandwith, here's some new content. I'm terribly backlogged on things I need to tell you about, with luck I'll get around to it all. Anyway . . .

Last night I went and saw the Kings of Convenience at the Bowery Ballroom.

It was the first time I had ever gone to hear a gentle band play gentle songs on gentle guitars. At first I was worried I might be bored to death, and during the first few songs I felt like I was sleeping while standing up, but these sensitive Norwegian boys put on quite a show and were rather funny (in the quiet way) between songs. Actual commentary on the actual content of the show will eventually be available in the form of the review I'll be writing for the law school paper.

By pure coincidence, a number of friends (old and brand spanking new) happened to be at the show . . . Amber, Elna, Lexia, Ally, and Scott. And me, of course. But I'm not in the picture.

Also in the house? Mike Myers . . . yeah, Mike Myers from Shrek 2! He was making all sorts of Mike Myers faces and gestures from the VIP corner of the balcony. (That's him with the glowing eyes on the far right)

Need a closer look? Click.

The lighting of the show was very moody. To reflect all the cozy Norwegian feelings that were being sung about.


You've seen the video for "I'd Rather Dance With You", right? No?! Get clickin'! It's the best. The very best.

Best New Manhattan Dream Home

I just realized that I never blogged about my former dream at 13 Leroy. Oh well, my former dream home was at 13 Leroy. But now my tastes have matured and my dreams have grown up and moved uptown and I've decided that 53 East 65th Street is the townhouse for me. Careful study of the too-small floorplans will reveal many impressive details, like the master bath (featuring a fireplace, of course) accessed by a private staircase from the master bedroom. And there's a great-glass elevator. And big beautiful windows. And while the home itself costs $12,500,000, you'll also be paying nearly $40,000 a month in property taxes. Wow. Wealth sure costs a lot of money.

Also I'm just getting really sick of the pre-fab blogger template I've been using for Steady Mobbin'. Had I the design skills and the time, I'd craft something much less generic to look at.

And The title of Pirates of the Caribbean 2 is "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest." A fellow named Stellan Skarsgaard will be playing 'Bootstraps' Bill Turner . . . you know, Will Turner's dad, left for dead at the bottom of the ocean by the crew of the Black Pearl previous to the events of the first film. When I found this out I was quite pleased, as I've been known for cornering people over the last year and a half to tell them all about my idea on how Will Turner's dad probably survived his watery fate and would be showing up in the sequel. If I haven't shared my whole theory (it's rather drawn out), have me corner you the next time we run into each other. Also, Chow Yun-Fat will be in it too, but that's not much of a surprise, because we all remember how much Disney loves Asian pirates from Swiss Family Robinson.

Best "This is Getting to be a Routine"

Well, here we are, it's February 2nd . . . that means it's James Joyce's birthday. Again. So, what am I to do? Write another hefty Joyce post like this one about Bloomsday 2004? Or this little Finnigans Wake one? Naw, I'm just going to tell you "Hey, it's James Joyce's birthday! Read Ulysses sometime!" That's it.

Best That You Just Believe Me

A while ago I heard that David Byrne lived down the street from me, so I finally did the research and discovered his residence to be this place, 50 West 12th Street:

While looking into the Byrne-housing situation, I found out that Meryl Streep has a house on that same block at 19 West 12th Street, as seen here:


So there you are.

Remember how I saw David Byrne at the Pixies concert?

Best Whatever

Well, I'm back to my old tricks--with nothing to post about, I'll post about anything, starting with a photo that hasn't anything to do with anything.

Behold, Unrelated Content:

Comida que me gusta Saturday night I dinnered at El Maguey y La Tuna, which I hadn't been to for months and months (as illustrated here, at the very, very bottom of the post, back when I really knew how to put a bunch of unrelated info together in a single post.) El Maguey y La Tuna is definitely officially the Mexican restaurant I am most satisfied with on the isle of Manhattan. I had the nachos and a bowl of pozole--I can't explain the ordering of nachos aside from I've really wanted nachos lately, but I ordered the pozole because its cold out and I wanted to order something that would test the kitchen's ability to turn out something which is undisputedly truly Mexican, and they did good. I also made many covetous glances at Bryant's plate of mole enchiladas. I'm going back soon to get some of those, as I did have them there before I found them to be just plain perfect. I'm not usually a snob about authenticity, I like Taco Bell as much as the next guy, as long as something that is supposedly Mexican is tasty I'm down, but sometimes there's nothing like a restaurant that serves classic Mexican dishes properly and doesn't mess it up--or force guacamole ground at my table upon me. Now, if I could only find a place that made tacos that were small enough.

Pelicula que no me gusto Saturday afternoon I walked half a block to the Quad Cinema to catch "Lost Embrace," and Argentine film that was supposed to be good. Turns out it wasn't. The tale of an Argentine Jew who helps his mother run her store at a little Latin-American mall while thinking about his father who he's never met, it was really boring and I left after an hour because I knew there had to be something better to do with my time.

Pelicula que me voy a gustar Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy test-screening reviews are beginning to appear. This movie is going to be great, I can just feel it. As it comes out on May 6, it should prove to be the perfect little outer space apertif to Revenge of the Sith. The Internet is currently clogged with all sorts of Revenge of the Sith spoilerific hotness . . . I have a hard enough time resisting these pictures and scoops myself, so I'm sorry, but I won't be facilitating access to them through Steady Mobbin'.

Una lista de 500 canciones! A few months ago Rolling Stone magazine published their list of the 500 Greatest Rock Songs, a (in a sense) predictable parade of Dylan and Stones praise with not a classic overlooked. Yawn. Here's a much better list of 500 Best Rock Songs--it's exciting off the bat, as their #1 song is "Roadrunner" by the Modern Lovers. It's ridiculous to even suggest that there could be a correct list of the 500 Best rock songs, myself, I don't know that I can name 500 songs that I really, really like and then rank them in correct order of "greatness"--but these lists are a little thought provoking, and the Matt Toby list in particular might turn you on to something you've never heard, or properly appreciated, before.

Y una cosa mas Some people don't know that Tim Burton has a new animated movie coming out this year called "The Corpse Bride." Well, he does. And here's the trailer. This I will like, much more than I like the Nightmare Before Christmas, which I don't even really like. Stop motion certainly has come a long way, like, I've got to be honest this thing looks so good I have my doubts about it really being stop motion, doesn't that look Pixar-good to you? Lighting, it has to be the lighting.

Best Unexpected Bit of News

Mormons, in general, went crazy when they found out that Gladys Knight had really, really joined the church. Today I went crazy when I found out that Arthur Kane, former bassist for the New York Dolls, has belonged to the church for years. This fact had to be pointed out to me by my dad in the shape of this newspaper article about a new documentary about Mr., I mean, "Brother" Kane that premiered at Sundance. So I'm feeling pretty good that the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints can now claim an R&B Legend and a Father of Punk Rock among the ranks.

If you need the reminder, the New York Dolls were just about the number one highlight of the magnificent madness that was the Little Steven Underground Garage Festival I caught back in August. Click here and scroll way down to take in my take on their performance . . . I have absolutely no idea if Kane was with the group when they performed. . . Update okay, now that I have actually read the whole article on Kane I'm guessing he definitely was in the show. . . Update No, no, now that I have really, really read the whole article I'm thinking Kane was dead by the time I saw the Dolls. Oh well. Sounds like a good movie.

Best Emergency Content

As threatened earlier, because I haven't much to say, here's my Law School "newspaper" "review" of the Jimmy Smith concert I went to a couple of weeks ago.

Famed jazz organist Jimmy Smith visited New York this past week to play four nights of shows at the Iridium Jazz Club off Times Square. Hailed by aficionados as “the Father of the (Hammond) B3” or “the Father of Soul Jazz”, Mr. Smith is most likely to be recognized by the uninitiated of our generation as the man behind the organ sample on the Beastie Boys’ classic “Root Down” (lifted from Smith’s “Root Down (And Get It)”—at least that’s how I suddenly realized who Jimmy Smith was upon first listening to him.

Smith’s second set on January 13 proved that, while the years are catching up to this legend, his spirit remains strong along with his commitment to entertain. Having celebrated his 76th birthday less than a month ago, Smith required a steadying hand to help him climb the four or five steps up to the Iridium stage and looked significantly more frail then the last time I saw him (back when he was just 73). But upon taking the stage, Smith charmed the audience with a few quick shuffling dance moves before taking his place behind his organ, backed by a three piece band consisting of a guitarist, bassist, and drummer. (I suppose if I were a true arts journalist I’d have noted who his bandmates were, but, hey, I’m not a true arts journalists.)

Smith’s set consisted of just a handful of lengthy numbers, ranging from the mellow to hot. Smith eschewed organ solos (Smiths lack of soloing these days is a common grip of real jazz critics), deferring to his backing musicians for solos on their own instruments (which they provided quite nicely) and substituted entertaining moves like striking at the keys with his hat or playing a few chords with his chin (a move that Smith told the audience “I ain’t never done before”) for his virtuosic runs of yesterday. But I don’t mean to come down hard on Smith, the show was excellent and the crowd was fortunate to catch Smith willing to perform classics of his like “The Sermon” and “I Got my Mojo Working.” Smith himself seemed to be in a fairly lighthearted mood and embellished several of his numbers with especially ridiculous scatting—which is saying something, when you consider the inherently nonsensical nature of scat.

All in all, it was a fine show, and one that I’m glad I caught. And a word on the Iridium: I’d never been to this club before, but I found it to be one of the most accommodating and well-run jazz clubs I’ve visited in the city with excellent sight-lines throughout the club—and no seats along the back of the stage (I’m looking at you, Blue Note), which is especially nice. Should you notice a favorite artist of yours is headed to the Iridium (located at the southeast corner of Broadway and 51st) I’d recommend taking a trip up to catc them.

The first time I saw Jimmy Smith, at the Catolina Bar and Grill in Hollywood, Arsenio Hall was there and I had to ask him to get out of my way so I could get into the bathroom. He did.

I'll be back with fresh content when I've got it.

Yeah, you've already heard this, but the Oscar nominations are out. Yawn. I'd really like to be able to say that I'll not be watching the Oscars this year, but who am I kidding.

Rumors on the newest Nintendo system are surfacing. Check it. For me, the most interesting items are 1) That Nintendo is putting their Okay on HD-DVD instead of Blu-Ray (poor Sony, its the return of VHS vs. Betamax, but maybe this time the power of the Playstation will have the world agreeing with Sony's notions of where technology should head?) 2) This notion of gyroscope controls . . . remember how, when you first started playing games and if you had a hard time getting Mario over a pit you'd heft your controller in the direction of the jump, instinctively, in hopes of getting a little more air? Seems Nintendo is latching onto that instinctive motion and now your furtive body language will actually get Mario over the pit or Pirhana Plant.

Best So-So Content I Can Provide

Not the hottest weekend I just had. Friday: M.I.A. tickets sell out as I'm buying them, my IBM laptop ("The Stepchild") murders itself during Con Law, the kind of computer death that causes people to gather around your monitor and shake their heads because definitely there is nothing that can be done, the Death from Above 1979 show also sells out before I can get my hands on tickets, Saturday I eat a horrible plate of nachos and my evening sociality consists in me trying to make the most perfect BLT possible (complete with special mayonnaise), blah blah blah, it wasn't so bad, really . . . because I'm not a regular rider of the A or C anymore, becuse then I'd really have something to complain about for the next million years.

So, I ask myself and I ask myself, do I blog about Johnny Carson dying? The answer: if I were a Grandparent blogger, I would. While I did watch his final show ever whilst babysitting for the French people across the street from my house, he was definitely before my time, to say the least. I do remember my own Grandfather remarking that he (Mr. Carson, not Dr. Taylor) wore a different suit every night. But Johnny Carson did make this joke about death, and it's fairly funny, in the old people way: "For three days after death hair and fingernails continue to grow but phone calls taper off." But I am definitely not missing Letterman tonight (not Monday night, it's a repeat) because I know it'll certainly be something else. Leno tonight? So-so. But what can you expect?

Best Behavior: Be On It

As you may know, if you are my mother or a close friend, I am nuts about manners. Etiquette books captivate me. I'm pretty much walking around the time, thinking about good behavior (if only I could act on this fascination . . . but that's another post altogether.) Anyway, a week ago the Meddler wrote a post on the importance of good manners and it just set my manners brain on fire and I've been thinking about etiquette extra hard for the last week and I've finally come up with this, the Steady Mobbin' A to Z of Brilliantly Great Behavior. You might think this is a big joke, but I'm totally serious, and you may think this is a big rip off of something you may have seen in Vice once, but I'd rather you not dwell on that.

THE STEADY MOBBIN' A TO ZED OF BRILLIANTLY GREAT BEHAVIOR

Apartments One of the first things I learned about Manhattan manners is that it is not rude to ask people what kind of square footage they’ve got or what sort of rent they’re paying. It’s pretty much how one says hello to someone they’ve just met out here.

Busses If it’s the early evening and you’re supposed to meet up with a friend, it is very bad manners to take the M14 bus because it will take forever and you will be late. “I had to wait forever for the subway” is always an acceptable excuse for tardiness, “I was on the bus forever” is never an acceptable excuse because we all know it was really sloppy for you to think you could take a bus in the first place.

Car Door It has always been my manners fantasy to get to open the car door for someone who was getting out of a car.

Dog Runs The signs at the dog runs always say that you aren’t supposed to bring your dog to the dog run if it is in heat, and this always cracks me up, because I’m not very mature . . . especially if you were also going to break the rule about bringing a big dog into the small dogs dog run (but I suppose it’d be more funny if you were to bring a little dog to the big dog dog run, but I’m going to far.) Also, the signs at the dog runs also say you aren’t supposed to pick up your dog, because an exposed dog belly is a sign of weakness and invites attack. Sorry Kelsi.

Elvis Costello I’m sure Elvis Costello really appreciates how discreet I am about how he lives in the same apartment building as me and how I may give him good, long stares whenever I see him in the lobby but never get all up in his grill. But should we ever wind up in the same elevator, whoah boy, he’ll be getting an earful. (Note to Self: learn something about Elvis Costello’s music)

Friends It isn’t polite to tell your friends if they’re doing something that’s bad manners, which is a crying shame, because you’re a real pig sometimes.

Garbage Room I say it isn’t rude to take your neighbors old magazines that they’ve put in the garbage room recycling bins home for your own perusal, but I’m not sure what they’d think. Also, it is very good manners that if you’re leaving a defective appliance at the curb to be taken away to leave a little sign on it like “Danger! This Lamp is Dangerous!” because you know somebody is going to see your old lamp and want to take it home.

Helping People Move If someone helps you move, you pretty much owe them, or someone else who comes along in the great chain of moving karma, help moving—or you at least owe it to yourself to have a really, really good excuse as to why you can’t help them move (besides “I’m sorry, I really hate moving—that’s why I had you help me that first time, you know” even though if honesty truly equals goodness it would be the best excuse in the world.)

Ice Cream It was rude of me to eat an ice cream cone in front of you because I always make the biggest mess. I’m realizing that the cup is no longer a sign of weakness or lack of fancifulness but a statement I shouldn’t be afraid to make, “Yes, I Wind Up Sticky When I Get a Sugar Cone.”

Jokes Everyone loves jokes, if they’re appropriate. If you think of a funny joke, but it’s inappropriate, then you shouldn’t tell it. But if you think of a funny joke, and it’s really, really inappropriate, then you should definitely tell it. Works for me, at least.

Karate Chops If your friend is practicing his karate chops, it would be rude of you not hold a wooden board for him to chop—but if he’s practicing his flying karate kicks, it’s okay to say you’d rather not hold the board in front of yourself for him, because he’s probably going to go flying right through it and into you.

Love If you love a new TV show, it’d be rude of you not to start a website or bulletin board about how much you love that new show, especially if it’s a reality show.

Mala Educacion Pedro Almodovar’s new movie is called “Mala Educacion”, and all the signs in English call it “Bad Education”, but, in Spanish, to say someone’s got a “mala educacion” is to say they’ve got bad manners. No wonder everyone is giving this movie four stars, it’s probably a totally awesome Spanish movie about the importance of manners. For cross-dressers.

Nerf Weaponry Even though your Nerf sword is soft that doesn’t make it okay to hit people with it whenever you want. (Especially if those people are old.)

Old People You should always be nice to old people, especially old people you don’t know, because, hey, that could be someone’s grandma, you know? And how would you feel if some stranger was rude to your grandma? However, it isn’t rude of me to ignore the crazy old lady who lives next door to me when she’s lying in the hall, moaning for help, because that’s just a game she likes to play.

Puppies I sort of regret that paragraph I wrote on dog run manners. I could’ve been a little more mature than that.

Questions It is good manners to say "There are no stupid questions" but in my life I have definitely heard at least one stupid question. I was on a tour of JPL in Southern California (it's pretty much the NASA of unmanned spacecraft) and we visited this fake Martian landscape where they had tested the Mars rover before sending it to, uhm, Mars and the dirt was all red and the rocks were all red and craggly, y'know, just like in the pictures of Mars and when our visit was opened up to questions this lady asked "How did you get all these rocks down from Mars?" That, dear reader, is a stupid question.

Really Late Being really late is like the worstest manners there are. What, you caught a bus or something? Oh, you were waiting for the subway? Ok, nevermind then.

Sushi The sushi chef takes great offense if you soak that sucker in the soy sauce because it is his fishy little work of art. Also, word is the pickled ginger isn’t a topping. Keep that in mind. And rubbing your chopsticks together to de-splinter them is rude because it’s a sign of stinginess, and who wants to look stingy on half-price sushi night?

Television Everytime you watch something like “The Fabulous Life of . . .” or “E! True Hollywood Story” you are being rude to yourself because that is time taken from your life that you will never, ever get back, no matter how much you learn about the cast of Gilligan’s Island or the spending habits of Hillary Duff. However, watching "I Love the 90's" (or any of the "I Love . . ." series of programs) and "Best Week Ever" actually makes you smarter.

Unusual Smells If you notice an unusual smell in mixed company, don’t make a scene. It’s not polite.

Vampires Say what you will about Vampires, they have very good manners. They’re pretty much the only psychotic monsters that absolutely won’t come into your home unless invited. But once you have invited a vampire into your home, there’s not much accounting for their manners from that point on.

Walking In my notes I’ve indicated that I wanted to address the etiquette of walking. I cannot imagine what I had thought I should say about the walking manners. Uhm, don’t walk in weaving line down crowded sidewalks, maybe? Here’s another one: Wanting to Be a Writer. Make no more movies, plays, musicals, or books about people who want to be writers. I'm not having it any more. If you want to be a writer, that's great, but don't make me watch a movie, play, musical or read a book about your desire to be writer.

X-Men Dear Makers of X-Men (the Comic Book): The reason I quit reading your comic in the 90’s is because you kept reforming the team every fourteen months. That was bad manners. I started reading Uncanny X-Men just in time to catch the Mutant Massacre story arc back in 1986 or 87, and I kept reading for the next seven years waiting for the team to completely recover from the beating they took from the Marauders and then I finally got it: the X-Men I knew weren’t going to get back together, you just wanted to keep coming up with new lineups and costumes and STUPID characters like Bishop.

Yoga It’s not polite to stare, but if one of your law school classmates does yoga poses like this one in the hall during breaks, that’s your freebie right there.

Zoning When NYU Law started building their (our?) new law school building and realized it’d block the sun from reaching the stained glass of a nearby church they built a giant box of light bulbs to simulate the sun for that window. That, my friends, is very good manners.

And if you were wondering, yes, this was my special post I mentioned earlier that I was working on. I know, I know, you probably expected lots of photos or something. And since there's been some questions, yes, I came up with this whole post on my own, to have taken other people's ideas without giving them a shout out, that'd be bad manners.

At all Best? You Decide.

Here's the new Postal Service video for "We Will Become Silhouettes" directed by Jared Hess, the director of Napoleon Dynamite.

Best Batch of Brand New Bentleys

First off, too bad there aren't any synonyms for "new" that start with a "b." Nextly, check it, instead of actual content today, I've got pictures of the new Bentleys.

First up, the Continental Flying Spur, the four-door answer to the beautiful new Continental coupes that always make my jaw drop when I see them around town. 0-60 in 5 seconds? 190 mph top speed? Perhaps more beautiful than anything else in the automotive world? Word.


And here's the "drophead" (crazy Brits with their funny words) version of the Arnage. Despite the Continental hotness, the Arnage remains the company flagship and stays all classy looking, but I dig the tweeking they've done to the headlights and look closely, the flying B hood ornament has returned. It really has the look of something you could drive to a picnic, y'know?


As far as truly original content goes, I've been working on a post for a few days (here and there, not day and night) that I hope to finish soon. And also, like five minutes ago I got this idea for a book or a movie that'll probably be the most popular book or movie ever born.

Also The Fantastic Four trailer is up. I have to admit it looks better than I had feared, there's not much good word on this movie. It's sort of too bad that a perfect Fantastic Four movie was made this last year by Disney, it was called "The Incredibles." Someday, when I'm not about to start reading my Con Law, I'm bound to expound upon the importance of there being an awesome Fantastic Four movie.

Best Alternative to Outer-Space Thai Food

I didn't have to visit too many Thai restaurants out here (particularly those belonging to the Spice family of restaurants) to discover that the thing about New York Thai restaurants is that they're the most super-futuristic looking restaurants in the city (next to the Lever House, of course), full of neon, 2001-looking chairs and tables, reflective ceilings, and out of the ordinary bathrooms. But do you remember that old lady with the odd grown son who still lived with her and her little house full of all kitschy, miss-matched decorations that your family would take you to visit every now and then even though you weren't related to her? (in my case that would be Betty's house, if I remember correctly) Now imagine her living room, with all its beaded curtains and photos of animals and curios ordered out of the back of Parade Magazine as a thai restaurant and you're imagining the East Village's Fake Orchid, a charming home-style Thai restaurant that I noticed a few months ago and finally visited this weekend with some amigos before heading to an amiga's birthday party. Though absolutely tiny, it was a fun place and the food was plenty good and plenty cheap and the music they were playing kept the group nostalgic for 80's movies I never saw.

Here Lexia delights in her tilapia:

Lauren, Alejandro, and Reghan don't notice they're being photographed:

And I munch on my chicken satay appetizer, which I got for free!


So, yeah, it was fun and stuff.

Wait a Second I've forgotten to keep you abreast of my most recent celebrity sightings: A week ago I saw Peter Dinklage and a ladyfriend walking down 6th Avenue, Saturday night I saw Elvis Costello in my building for the first time in a while (he was carrying a poinsettia) and a little bit after that I saw Danny Glover in Soho. So I'm doing pretty well these days, but, as usual, I'm mostly just spotting older dudes.

Best Big Ol’ Bucket of Culture

Man, the last week or so, I’ve been getting so much culture, it’s crazy. Like, right now, at this moment, I’m probably the most cultured person in all of New York, if not the world. Here’s the short version of how cultured I am right now:

Little Women: The Broadway Musical Spectacular When my folks were in town they wanted to go to a Broadway show and I agreed to go see the new production of Little Women (still in previews, actually) because 1) I didn’t know the story of Little Women and 2) It stars Sutton Foster, whom I saw in Thoroughly Modern Millie and dug plenty (let the record show that Millie is the only musical I’ve ever spoken about enthusiastically). But imagine my disappointment when we got to the theater and discovered that Sutton wasn’t going to be there that night and that we’d be getting some understudy. Despite our little understudy’s hard work and our awesome seats (second row, yo, gracias a the cheap ticket booth) I didn’t fall in love with the show, mostly because I really, really couldn’t stand the main character. For some reason, I really, really wanted her to fail and never realize her dreams of becoming a famous writer, or whatever. Why is it movies and plays are always about people who want to become writers? Like, it’s the easy way to stamp a main character as a free-spirit, a dreamer, and someone to admire, or something. I want the next musical I see to be about a girl who moves to New York and gets a job in an office filing and that’s it. Nothing else happens.

Tales of Hoffman at the Met That’s the Met that’s an opera house, not the Met that’s a museum. Tales of Hoffman was probably the best opera I’ve ever been to, and I’ve been to 6 operas . . . maybe 7. Why the best? For starters, I could actually follow the plot. For seconders, the set design and production can’t be messed with. A good way to leave me dang impressed with something is to have one massive set suddenly sink into the stage as another giant set rolls forward. For thirdly, there was a robot girl in it. When it was revealed she was a robot (one of those sorts of revelations that’s obvious to the whole audience but no one on stage) they actually sang “A Robot! A Robot!” And finally, it was funny . . . and when I say it was funny, I mean that opera is typically so devoid of any joking around that a single kick towards a crotch at the Met will have the entire audience rolling in the aisles like they’d never seen America’s Funniest Home Videos.

Jimmy Smith at the Iridium Jazz Club Did you know you can text questions to Google? That’s how we found the Iridium, at 51st and Broadway, on Thursday night. Jimmy Smith is, as all the flyers say, the Father of the (Hammond) B3 Organ. I had seen him once before in Hollywood, two years ago or so, and Jimmy has aged a lot since then (he’s 76 now) but this organ-master still knows how to keep the crowd well-entertained. Although he’s now replaced virtuosic solos with slapping at the keyboard with his cap or playing a couple of chords with his chin. Best thing about the show is he played “The Sermon”, it was great. I wrote a much longer review of his show for the Law School paper, I’ll probably post it on a slow day this week.

Second-Hand Memories Sometimes Saturdays start like this: *ring ring* “Hello?” “Dude, we’ve got tickets to Woody Allen’s new play, do you wanna go? It starts in an hour.” Next thing I know I’m catching a matinee of Woody Allen’s new play, Second-Hand Memories, at a little theater in Chelsea. All I knew going into the play was that it was the story of a Jewish family living in Brooklyn in the 50’s, so I was expecting lots of talk of stickball and radio shows and whatnot (yes, sometimes I mistake the 50s for the 30s and 40s). But it turns out it was a story of awful people making awful decisions being awful to each other . . . but as far as total bummer plays go, it was actually pretty good, if you’re into middle of the afternoon bummers. Also, Michael McKean (from Lavern and Shirley and Best In Show and stuff) was in it, and he was great. I had hoped that nervous little guy with the glasses that’s in all of Woody Allen’s movies was going to be in it, but no such luck. Oh well.


Yeah, I know that’s an old Simpsons joke. But it’s a good one.