What Happened? Mike Doughty/Soul Coughing Edition

Soul Coughing used to be one of my favorite bands. Ruby Vroom would easily make its way into my top 25 favorite albums. It was so full of awesome funk and sample-y goodness and drug induced nonsensical fun and wicked drum beats that it was impossible not to love. Here is a snippet of lyrics from the song Moon Sammy:

Moon Sammy washes. In the sink. Below the sink. There is a drain. The draing oes straight. Into the sea. The sink itself. Is porcelain.
Obsess yourself with causality. The information you hear is a loophole,technicality. Behind every object is a mathematic; an obscure substance infused with a kinetic force, energy, an obscure conscience shoots a gun at the feet the world dances.

Set over a weird jazzy beat that is better heard than explained.

Irresistible Bliss came out, and was, while not as good as Ruby Vroom, still really strong with some really great songs. I can still remember in 1998 rabidly foaming at the mouth waiting for El Oso to come out, and how much I wanted to love it the first 5 times I listened to it, before I resigned myself to the fact that it just wasn't very good. It's not that it was bad really. Just gone was all the fun stuff and the seeming stream of consciousness lyrics that made Ruby Vroom amazing and Irresistible Bliss's better songs so good. There were some pretty good songs on it, but it just seemed kind of blah, I guess.

Then in 2000, they broke up.

I remember how interested I was to head Mike Doughty's solo album in 2000. He always seemed like the real drive behind the music anyway. And I guess what I mean by that was that crazier he seemed, the better the album. It seemed as though maybe he was easing off the drugs or something, and maybe that's why all the weird eccentricities that added so much to the songs started to disappear. I was intrigued. So I was surprised that the only backing music on Skittish was an acoustic guitar, and I was also surprised at how awesome it was. His cover of Mary J. Blige's "Real Love" is awesome, though the overall tone of the album is a hell of a lot darker than anything Soul Coughing ever put out. From album closer Rising Sign:

i’ve seen the dangers of your rising sign/ but i swear i’d like to drink the fuel straight from your lighter / it’s all inside the wrist, it’s all inside the way you time it/ i resent the way you make me like myself

After a couple of EPs and one really good live album type thing, Haughty Melodic came out - finally - in 2005. I was excited to hear what direction he would go in. His EPs had hinted at a more fleshed out sound. What I didn't expect, however, was for Doughty to become a complete hipster and a pussy. I guess he kind of always was a hipster, but before hipsters were hipsters, so I'll let it slide... for now. Anyway, on this album it seems like it's "Goodbye Heroin, Hello Jesus!" and we're all worse off (except maybe Doughty's health or whatever). His most recent album, Golden Delicious, solidifies his fall into pussydom. It's all poppy and boring and not remotely interesting. They aren't bad albums, really. But I wouldn't think either one bears a repeat listen. And here is a quick conversation about an EP that was released with Golden Delicious:

Pemulis: got this EP that came with the mike doughty album if you bought it from insound - its like 5 tracks he recorded of him playing solo in a subway station
Pemulis: its not bad, but its as annoyingly hipster-ish as it sounds like it could be
Pemulis: like him with tiny bits of chatting in between songs and shit, faint trains sounds here and there. just want to punch him
Killian: a concept that I like/hate after reading that sentence
Pemulis: its almost like it could be a cool concept then you see it executed and you can imagine him sitting in the subway station thinking he is the coolest person alive for thinking to record a little ep in a subway station
Pemulis: and you just want to fight him
Killian: EXCATLY
Killian: or exactly
Pemulis: excatly (adverb) an action done in the manner of a dead cat, or ghost cat

It's depressing considering how much I love some of the stuff. Let's move on.
Here's a video retrospective full of highlights (that I could find on youtube.)

True Dreams of Wichita from Ruby Vroom


Super Bon Bon from Irresistible Bliss (bonus points because this is the actual video, and features a kitty-cat!)



Circles from El Oso (Not the best song on the album, but one of the too few highlights)


Some other stuff cuz' why not I guess:

Video for Screenwriter's Blues, from Ruby Vroom.

Doughty performing Bottom of Well, from Haughty Melodic.

Video for 27 Jennifers, from Golden Delicious.

Doughty playing Janine, live somewhere at some point.

Oldies But Goodies: Sportscenter Commercial

This had to have been my favorite sportscenter commercial, by far and without a doubt.



Other great sportscenter commercials you say? Why not.

Music Beej: John Vanderslice

This Wednesday edition of the Music Beej is in part because I'm not as in love with John Vanderslice as I am with the other winners of this prestigious award. You see, there are really only two albums of Vanderslice's that totally blew me... away. 2004's Cellar Door and 2005's Pixel Revolt are both really, really fucking good. His newest one I only listened to once, and it seemed kind of same-y. Like he peaked with the two I mentioned and has since kind of leveled off. Not the worst thing in the world to happen, I just thought Emerald City was a little too boring to bear repeat listens.

Anywho, Vanderslice tells stories in the first person, much in the same way that John Darnielle or Bill Callahan does. These persona's are usually involved in shady business, drugs, or part of an incredibly fucked up family.

First up is a video for They Won't Let Me Run, from Cellar Door. I don't know who made it, but whomever did has way too much free time. It's like cartoon Legos, which reminds me of this cop game I had for my first computer way the hell back when. Shit, if I don't remember the name of that game, I may go insane. Whatever, here's the video, jerk.



And here's a video for When it Hits My Blood, which some pleasant youtuber has set to scenes from Requiem for a Dream. Thanks guy. Now I can associate this song with Jennifer Connely vomiting.

Human Beings Are Gross, Stupid.

So for the past week, I've been sick. It hasn't been as bad this week, but my throat is still a bit raw and I'm still blowing my nose about 100,000 times a day - Puffs with Lotion is God, FYI. So aside from wondering how much blood it's normal to see mixed in your dirty tissue, I've spent a fair amount of time wondering how disgusting I must look to other people on the train every morning.

Without fail, every day, my throat bothers me until at some point I force-cough and hack what can only be described as a pretty solid ball of snot out of my throat. Then I feel fine for a while. It's awesome. But to a person seated directly across from me for forty-five minutes, I would imagine listening to me hack and dry heave is at least a slightly unpleasant way to start one's morning.

So here is the story of how this particular morning went:

I switched jackets this morning, and as such, cleaned all the dirty tissues out of the coat I was to wear. I then made sure I had one of those Kleenex to-go packs in my inside breast pocket. At some point between home and the train, I used one of said tissues (I do not remember if it was in the car, walking at the station, or on the train itself) and placed it in a front hand pocket. The next time I needed a tissue was during the train ride. The tissues were missing from my breast pocket. This led to a frantic search for about 5 minutes. I checked and rechecked every pocket of my jacket at least ten times. I was then sort of resigned to my fate of reusing the same tissue one more time.

This however, would be far from the last time I needed a tissue. After the already very soiled tissue was wet and ripping apart and no longer able to be blown into in any fashion - this includes a two minute period of nonstop coughing, hacking and dry heaving in which I coughed up a slimy green snot worm - I became desperate. I tore through my bag for at leas the third time. Since I could feel the ball of mucus pulsating in my right nostril with every breath, I was in no mood to fuck around. I saw a lens cleaning wipe that I had gotten from a demonstration on HD cameras a while back. This was my last hope.

No longer worrying about who might be judging me, I proceeded to unleash the bloody glop into the makeshift hanky and let me tell you. It. Was. Good.

Relieved, I placed the now balled up and useless lens wipe into my front pocket, wondering to myself at one point I would have to use this non absorbent piece of cloth next... Of course, I then went to reorganize the mess I had made in my mad dash to find a snot receptacle, and there, on my lap, slightly covered by my jacket, sat the packet of tissues I had been searching for the whole time. Such is my life folks.

Also. Isn't being a person weird? I wondered the other day how much weight has been expelled from my body in the past week or so, in terms of mucus. How much of one's body weight at any given point is snot? Or potential snot? Because I feel like over the past week I've lost more mucus than I thought one person should have in their entire body at all.

Movie I was So Surprised I didn't Hate or, Eating My Hat

you're not seeing things, that really is Night at the Museum

I know. You're as shocked as I am. Rightly so, I might add. Ben Stiller, post Something About Mary, has become -and I say this without the slightest hint of hyperbole - the single most annoying person on earth. I hate his brand of stupid physical comedy used in crap like Along Came Polly and Duplex and Meet the Whomevers. I hate him. I even hated when he was on Extras and was funny. It made me resent the rest of the garbage that he makes that much more.

Anyway, I remembed seeing the preview for Night at the Museum and thinking, "That might be the stupidest looking thing in the history of things." I remember reading a little bit about it, because I like to at least learn up on the things I hate, sometimes. Mainly so when I argue about something being terrible, I can bring up valid points and not just look like a complete asshole. I remember when I saw that Thomas Lennon and Ben Garant of The State and later, Reno 911 fame, wrote the movie. I thought "Oh how far we've fallen."

So for a very long time, I ignored this movie, figuring it to be as bad as the previews seemed. Oh Ricky Gervais, why would appear in this awful piece of doody-plop? Owen Wilson? Fuck you. You were good in exactly three movies. Bottle Rocket, Tennenbaums, and Life Aquatic. That's it. Steve Coogan? I don't know who you are except that I thought you were the guy Alfred Molina ate. Robin Williams... 'nuff said.

Surprisingly, many friends who saw this movie said it was not bad. Even my parents liked it(My dad's favorite movie ever is The Big Lebowski, to give you an idea)! I was not to be swayed. Fuck this movie right in the face. Ben Stiller can eat a dick. I would not watch this in a box, with a fox, etc ad hilarium.

So this past Sunday I was home alone for about four hours. Since sports are pretty much non-existent until the NCAA tournament, I flipped channels for what seemed like forever. Just starting up on one of the HBO's however, was .... you guessed it, Night at the Museum. "Why not?", I thought. I was not at all prepared for what was in store.

Robin Williams role was small and well defined and he did it well, Gervais was his typically funny self, Owen Wilson was .. well... I didn't want to kill him. Steve Coogan? Still pretty sure he's Alfred Molina. The script was pretty tight. The movie was too long, and most importantly, Ben Stiller was... passable. It's still annoying to see him in that same "Good and nice but flawed guy who has nothing but terrible, terrible luck" character, but he was a bit more subdued I guess. All in all it was a decently funny movie. Not great, but I didn't want to kill myself and everyone in it, which is still insanely shocking. I'm going to give most of the credit to the guys from the State, just because.

Now, this will not make me stop hating Ben Stiller, or anything Robin Williams does. I just wanted the world to know how entirely, seriously shocked I am that this movie was not the worst thing I've ever seen. That award might just go to this movie.

Oldies but Goodies: What Am I?

This is a video that divides people. You'll either love it, or think that people who find it funny are the dumbest people alive...This latter sentiment might not be too far from the truth.

What am I?

Photo Evidence of Clemens at Party. Ruh.Roh.

An intelligent discussion about what this means to the Roger Clemens Steroids Scandal:

Killian: wow
Pemulis: oopsy!
Killian: that would be awesome if they published that photo
Pemulis: i know
Pemulis: especially if it was of clemens naked
Pemulis: what?
Pemulis: clemens making
Pemulis: a smoothie or something
Pemulis: not naked
Killian: hahahah
Killian: or if Canseco is actually shooting him up in the pic with Mcnamee giving the thumbs up
Pemulis: or he has a syringe attached to his dick with a complex contraption, so he's fucking him in the ass and injecting him with steroids with each thrust
Pemulis: like that scene from 7, except a little less sexy
Killian: like a sexy version of that scene in se7en [note: these were simultaneous]
Pemulis: yikes.
Pemulis: we're both so insanely not well - but at least we're on the same wavelength of not-goodness
Killian: you really think that's the picture?
Pemulis: why wouldnt it be?
Pemulis: It's every 11 year olds dream to watch something like that
Pemulis: I'm sure they wanted to make his dream come true
Pemulis: MacNamee all the while is shouting in his long island accent weird island non-sequitors
Pemulis: like "Hofstra pride! I'm Joey Boafucco! Billy Joel ova hea!"
Killian: it is what it is
Pemulis: when they ask him about the picture, thats exactly what he'll say

Oldies but Goodies: Slow Jerk

You never finish!!!

GPS System w/Built In Breathalyzer: Hilarity Ensues?

Via Gizmodo

So I didn't really read this article about a new GPS system with a built-in breathalyzer so much as read the headline and immediately think of ways that that could be awesome.

Also, was going to go with this for the headline picture, but decided maybe it was in bad taste... or maybe I just didn't want to have to look at it. The world will never know.

Anyway, I first imagined the breathalyzer congratulating you on how much you've drank. "Dude, you are so not going to understand these directions...You're an animal!"

Then I imagined the GPS not only giving directions but also bad advice. "Turn left here, this is the street where Debra lives. She never understood you, God what a bitch she was. Third house on the left, remember? Egg that shit son."

Or maybe the GPS is an asshole, ".07? What, did you have a glass and a half of Pinot Grigio? Why don't you take the keys out of the ignition, go back to your wine and cheese party and get fucked, you pussy?"

On to my logistical problems with this product:

I guess my biggest question is why on earth would anyone with a penchant for having something to drink and then driving buy this particular GPS system?

Does it just not work if you don't use the breathalyzer? Like, will it just be like "nuh uh, you might be drunk. I'm not giving you directions until you blow!" (followed of course by a sassy robot snapping and making a Z shape with its robot fingers) Because that would be unfair for a number of reasons. One of which is sanitary. Does it come with a number of mouthpieces? What if my friend wants to borrow my car and use the GPS but has halitosis or mouth herpes? Or what if you just don't want to feel the shame of having to tell a map-robot that you had one too many Bartles and James? Is that so wrong? I spend 40 grand on a car and then a couple grand more on a GPS system (I don't know how much they cost and refuse to do this research) and now I'm getting guilt tripped by a living Hagstroms?

Fuck that noise.

Baseball Season Can't Come Soon Enough

I will admit it.  Television is a way of life for me.  The writer's strike has been especially awful for me, because I need the television on at my house, even if it's just in the background as noise and something to occasionally look at.  I don't need something that requires every ounce of my attention, I just need something I don't hate with every ounce of my being.

This is a pathetic thing to admit, but I seriously can't function with the TV off.  It's too quiet.  I get home from work and need it on, it's like a white noise machine.  It makes it a hundred times worse when I need to flip channels at the very least every half hour to find something that isn't awful.  I can't help but wonder when this started, but I think it may be baseball's fault.  Almost 162 nights (sans day games and west coast games, natch) a year I have that perfect balance of background noise and entertainment.  When it's over, I don't know what to do with those nights.

Now I generally watch Mets games religiously - not moving from spots if we're rallying, refusing to speak to loved ones if it's an important at bat, etc.  But baseball games also provide the flexibility of being able to do other things while you're watching.  I can cook, play with the kid if she's up, exercise, and most importantly, drink.  By the time the game is over, be it 10, 10:30, 11. I'm ready to pass out.  

The ladies were out tonight. So, alone, I was especially bored and confused.  Not knowing what to do with the television, not knowing what to do with myself...  Eventually I put on the food network and just screwed around on the computer for a while.  But it's not the same.  It never is. Tonight was the breaking point.  The hours passed so slowly I was sure I was in purgatory at the very best.  Baseball season can't come soon enough so I can get myself on a good schedule.

Or at the very least, they could remake some awesome shows from my past and air those.  Let me pick a few at random: Knight Rider, American Gladiators....oh. fuck.  

Life Imitating Art?

Is it me, or is this eerily (or hilariously) similar to the scene in Superbad where McLovin gets knocked the fuck out?

Click here to see

Can't You People Take a Joke? He Was in Character

You squares just don't get it, do you?

It doesn't count as sodomy when he's playing a role!
A livery cab driver is accused of rape:

"Torkieh Sadagheh, 28, had aspired to be "the next Borat," a neighbor said.
The accused rapist played a character akin to British comedian Sacha Baron Cohen's wildly popular Borat - a bigoted reporter from Kazakhstan - in a homemade film, neighbor Joseph Polemeni said.
"He was trying to make a movie," said Polemeni, 49. "Apparently, the kid is trying to be a Borat-type guy."
Polemeni said he once went with Sadagheh to Manhattan's Riverside Park, where the wanna-be filmmaker accosted elderly parkgoers.
"He asked embarrassing questions," said Polemeni, of Gravesend, Brooklyn. "He wanted to know what old people knew about sex. This guy is a real jerk."
Sadagheh was arrested Sunday, hours after Monica Maneiro, 23, a dancer from Scores West Side, escaped a backseat attack and reported his license-plate number to cops.
In the meantime, Sadagheh had raped and sodomized another 23-year-old woman in the car, officials said.
Both women were picked up at 28th St. and 10th Ave"

I still remember how bad I freaked out before stepping into my first livery cab... fearing for my life at 125th street right below the Metro North Terminal. I tried so hard to catch a yellow cab, to no avail for several minutes. I probably wouldn't have cared really, but my girlfriend was with me at the time, and as little as I cared about the consequences of getting myself killed, having someone else's blood on my hands was not something I was prepared for. The ride turned out to be totally fine, no different than any other cab ride, save the lack of meter. After that we used several livery cabs throughout the rest of the time I lived in Washington Heights.

As much as I'd like to say "wow, maybe it's not such a good idea after all", I can't because this seems more the exception than the rule. All my experiences in livery cabs have been pleasant, despite the lack of sodomy. I've never even been hit on my a livery cab driver - am I not pretty enough for you? Am I not your type? Why would you even bother to pick me up if you didn't think I was sexy?

I would like to see his movie, however.

I'd also like to point out that I've spent the past 25 years doing research for a movie about a sarcastic asshole who makes fun of everyone, nonstop. Even loved ones! So if you know me, and I've offended you at some point in your life, it doesn't count because I was in character. Don't hate me because I'm a terrific actor!

Coming to terms with your childhood being ruined before your eyes: Comic Book Nerd Edition

A couple of sources have said that Gambit(among others) will be making at least a cameo in the Wolverine spin-off movie coming out in 2009.  Part of me thinks this is awesome, but then I remember the part of me that was excited for the Daredevil movie to come out.  

It's weird to try and come to terms with this stuff...  It was always such a pipe dream when I was a kid.  Real life movies of my heros?  Batman was one thing. I mean, the guy has no super powers.  When the movie came out in '89, it made sense.  No serious special effects needed, no major letdown.  Can you imagine if Wolverine's claws had been like, glued on and there was stop motion to make them retract and shit?  Or if Spider-man had been made before the technology....oh.

Anyway, X-Men and Spider-Man were always my two favorite comic books growing up, so I take exception to both franchises making two exceptional movies and then a third movie that sucked harder than .  Anyway, the Wolverine spin-off could be excellent.  I'm sure it won't be though... I'm hoping for death and lots of blood and Omega Red and all kinds of awesome back story too stupid for me to get into at this point, in case anyone still has any respect for me.

So the point I'm driving at is that, even though these movies are all being made now, they aren't really being made for me, or my age group.  This is why they're going after PG-13 ratings, and this is why I have resigned myself to seriously lowered expectations.  

Do I still let myself get worked up into an orgasmic frenzy over certain things?  Of course, I backslide and revert and can't help myself.  The Dark Knight looks good enough to fuck the celluloid.  Iron Man looks full of potential, The Incredible Hulk is starring Ed Norton, whom I would personally do, so, well... there's that...  Anyway.  

Gambit was always one of my favorite X-Men, that accent, that attitude, the way he treated women, it was all great!  But, to be honest, I don't remember much about him other than that he had an accent, had an attitude, and treated objects like women, man.

So part of me is resigned to the fact that these movies are not for me, as much as I want them to be.  

The other part of me, however, is filled with murderous rage because they ruined Rogue, Angel (unless they work in Apocalypse, and also go back in time and uncast Ben Foster), they killed off three insanely pivotal characters... I could go on... and that's just on a franchise I liked!  I could spend at least ten hours ranting about Spider-Man 3 and how awful it was (I won't).  Daredevil I only saw the one time, and that was like, a hundred times too many.  I've never even made it all the way through the Ang Lee Hulk movie.  I liked Superman Returns probably more than I should have.  

It all boils down to this: I think there is a reason grown-ups don't like comic books.  And as soon as I  figure out that reason, I will apply it to my life, and stop weeping like a little bitch every time one of these movies comes out and stabs my childhood in the dick.

It's in Italian, but it was the only clip I could find:

Captain America... I remember losing my shit when this came out.

Home Sick: Presidents' Weekend

So I took Friday off to have a nice four day weekend, a couple days out at my parents and a couple of days to relax at home.  This was all going nicely according to plan until I got insanely sick last night.  Now I'm tired and bored and haven't really eaten anything all day.  Anyway, some stuff from other places you may have missed that I've spent all day catching up with since I'm bored and sick.

Kissing Suzy Kolber had their first off-season commenter draft on Friday, and I missed it since I took the day off.  Pretty much all answers were excellent.

Xmas Ape took over Deaspin for the weekend, and it was good.

Carlos Beltran declared the Mets the team to beat in the NL East this season.  Some people asked why bother, why add locker room fodder to the Phils rivalry, I personally like the cojones it takes to make a bold prediction like that.  I just hope PECOTA is right about our 96 wins.

The New Indiana Jones movie got a trailer.  I have no faith in Lucas, but... well, alright. It's probably going to suck.

I would have killed for a Han Solo-in carbonite mini-fridge.

Interesting follow up/final word on Jeremy Brown of Moneyball fame at Unfiltered.

A bunch of other interesting things to be sure. But it's almost 8:30, which means I'm going to be going to bed in about a half an hour, so now it's tea time.

Oldies but Goodies: Banana Phone!

It's a phone with a peel!


cellular, modular, interactive-odular!

The Kids First Mets Game

Last baseball season, my kid was too young to really want to take her to a Mets game. It would have been more of a hassle than it was worth, and besides, trying to convince a vendor to give an 8 month old an Endy Chavez Bobble-Head seemed like a tough sell.

I believe I have to make a serious effort to take her this season. She's old enough to enjoy it, I think. It is also the last year Shea Stadium will be up. I want her to be able to see a picture of herself at Shea Stadium, so that when I tell her what a shit hole it was, she'll see and know she'd been there. Also, it will be way easier to get whatever toy they are giving away with her being this age instead of super tiny.

The question then becomes: Which game do I take her to?
Unfortunately, the team's site doesn't have the promotional dates listed yet, so it's impossible to say just yet. This, however, allows me to speculate just what they might give away this season.

Now, she still owes me since she broke my David Wright Bobble-head, but I'm willing to forgive her if there is an awesome promotion being given away. Acceptable toys include: David Wright bobble bare handed catch, vintage Ty Wigginton bobble head doll, Pedro Martinez bobble cock fight, Carlos Delgado bobble contract year HGH syringe, Mike Pelfrey bobble mouth guard, Louis Castillo bobble knee replacement, Mrs. Met Fleshlight.

Clemens v. McNamee: Boring? or Boring and Stupid?

I'm not going to lie, I'm a bit biased in this whole thing. I hate Clemens; he seems like an egomaniacal prick and a complete asshole (though these seem like qualities I would admire, but he's far more successful than I'll ever be, so I hate him for it). Anyway, The only thing I want to say about the whole thing is that Clemens appears to be pretty fucked.

Clemens has been sort of contradicting himself left and right, and it seems the web of lies is starting to get him tangled, if you'll excuse the stupid turn of phrase.

After both he and McNamee testified, the committee ripped them both apart. McNamee had his credibility bent over and ravaged, but it seems all of his issues stem from not telling the whole truth, in the hopes it would never have gotten this bad. It seems as though he withheld the physical evidence because he probably hoped the Mitchell Report would be released, Clemens would issue a half hearted apology a la Giambi or Pettite, and that would be that.

Clemens on the other hand, seems to have a lot more serious inconsistencies. When it came out that McNamee injected Clemens wife with HGH, Clemens said it was without his knowledge...That she was feeling a circulation problem and "wigged out" and felt uncomfortable going to a doctor. How no one stopped him and said "I'm sorry but that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard", I'll never understand.

I tried to imagine the scenario. Deb complaining of a circulation problem, wigging out. Calm, rational Roger suggesting a visit to the doctor. Deb for some reason stating she was uncomfortable seeing a doctor, then going behind her husband's back and seeing his shady trainer for a shot of HGH, to help her circulation problem.

That seriously has to be the most batshit insane thing I've ever heard.

Facing Inward: My Life as a Pigeon Toed

Not Actually My Legs...

Growing up, I was always pretty seriously pigeon toed. This never particularly bothered me. In fact, I didn't even know it was a problem until my parents told me it was. I never even noticed, except for occasionally tripping over my own feet (my feet were also huge really early on - I grew into them and now they are a fairly normal size 11). I would eventually be mocked a fairly decent amount in my awkward years, first in the area of 7th and 8th grades - this was tough, there were girls present! - next would be high school. This was not as large a problem, as I discovered freedom in my all boy high school. Freedom from caring what anyone else thought. In a class of about 350, I had about three friends. This was due to a lot of reasons, one of which was that I lived pretty far from everyone else who attended this school, and another of which is that I went out of my way to be off-putting to others - this meant being mocked for my severe pigeon toed-ness was one of the least of my problems.

I do remember once when I was younger I went to the doctor and my parents tried to address the issue, and I remember the term "special shoes" being bandied about. Thankfully, this is all I remember about the situation. For whatever reason, it was never further addressed and my left and right feet remained on two o'clock and eleven o'clock, respectively.

It takes a great deal of effort to walk with my feet pointed straight forward, and sometimes I will do it for short periods of time, just to see what it's like to be normal. It is uncomfortable, and I have pretty balky joints (knees, wrists) to begin with (I swear I'm only 25). I've recently begun to wonder again what may have caused this, and if anything can be done. Is there actually a God, and is he as big of an asshole as I'd imagine he'd be if real? Of course not. Poor genetic material? Very possibly.

Looking at the causes, the following paragraph jumped out at me:

"The most common cause of pigeon toes in girls over 2 years old is a hip that turns in causing the thigh bone to twist. When the thigh bone twists, the knees and toes point in. Children with a twisted thigh bone often sit with their legs crossed. The best way to treat this is to have the child sit in a chair with their legs uncrossed. Often this cannot be done until they are school age. This condition usually clears up by itself, but it may take 1 to 3 years for the thigh bone to straighten. "

This actually sounded kind of dead on - I always sit with my legs crossed. In fact, I've mastered the art of not hurting my nuts when I do it!

Wait.a.minute. "girls over 2 years " Ruh.Roh. This can't be right, can it? At first glance, this is pretty disheartening. I've been a chick this whole time. Damn me and my twisted lady thigh bone! But after a few hours of quiet reflection, I'm more disappointed at missed opportunities. I didn't have the internet when I was younger, so none of this information was available to me - do they have a real, paper encyclopedia entry for "pigeon toed" ? Anyway, All this time spent in schools I hated, sitting there cross legged and awkward, I could have told the teacher I was having feminine problems and asked to be excused. I could have presented medical documents about my in-toeing. Gone and sat in a special chair somewhere quiet and taken in a nice read.

I just reread those last few sentences and yep - turns out I'm a chick.

And now in honor of the shoes I never got to correct my goofy looking problem, here are the lyrics to The Mountain Goats' "Billy The Kid's Dream of Magic Shoes":

Hang me out to dry.

They're gonna hang me out to dry.

I don't really care.

I don't really care.

I got special shoes.

I got special shoes.

They're gonna fill me full of holes.

They're gonna fill me full of holes.

I don't give a rat's ass.

I don't give a rat's ass you rotten bastards.

I got special shoes on.

I got special shoes on.

Yeah.

Which leads me to the video from their latest album, Hectic Pride

The song is Sax Rohmer #1

If you don't like this song you're probably a pigeon toed weirdo

Grammy Night: Actual Conversations

So I had (have) no interest in the Grammy's whatsoever. Do not care at all. I don't even know a single person who has bought an album in the past maybe.... three years. Besides, these awards are probably the biggest joke, as far as awards shows go. I can't remember the last time someone was referred to as a "Grammy Award Winning" Artist and it meant something someone gave a flying fuck about. Anyway, the lady enjoys these celebrity events for reasons I can't explain, and here are snippets of real life conversations from throughout the evening:

Me: Oh crap, The Simspons is a repeat, I've already seen it.
Her: What about the Grammy's?
Me: What about them?
Her: We could watch them.
Me: We could also forcibly insert hot pokers into my eyes and anus, and even though that's less painful than your suggestion, we're not going to do it. Besides, who gives a shit about the Grammy's? They're completely pointless! Why would you want to watch them?
Her: To see the dresses and stuff...
Me: (puts on simpsons)

9pm rolled around - which meant Iron Chef America, natch. But then 10 rolled around and we found ourselves in the same room finally... and watching the Grammy's. I figured if I had to suffer through it, maybe I could at least ruin it for her too.

During Kanye's performance - the first song was "stronger" he had on these neon-lit, insanely bright sunglasses

Now imagine those sunglasses brighter than the sun.

Me: Wouldn't that hurt your eyes?
Her: Probably.
Me: I wonder if he's retarded. I imagine one would have to be to think wearing neon sunglasses is a good idea. Just think of the potential retinal damage. And this song doesn't really translate that well to the stage, considering he says like four words, and the rhymes are like that of a 5th grader.
Her: This was a bad idea... please shut up.
Me: And now what's with the Tron brothers playing backup fake instruments? You know those things aren't shit but set decorations. This is a farce.

He then went on to perform "Hey Mama"... During this performance, I noticed he had what appeared to be a word shorn into the back of his head...

Me: What's that on his head?
Her: I think it says "MAMA"
Me: Hmmm... couldn't he have just shaved "Pussy" or if he wanted to keep it to four letters, "homo"?
Her: His mom just died!!!!!
Me: What does that have to do with him being a huge pussy?

She then hit me.

And during Mr. Andrea Bocelli's performance, the exchange went something like this:

Me: Is something wrong with his eyes? He hasn't opened them once.
Her (fearing she was being baited): shut up.
Me: What? Seriously, it just seems weird and maybe even a little rude to be honored in such a way and not have the decency to look the crowd in the eyes is all.
Her (somehow just now realizing I am being an asshole): Ok shut up, are you trying to see if I know he's blind so you can make fun of me, or are you just being a dick?
Me: A little of column A, a little of column B. But seriously, coulldn't he at least be nice enough to wear sunglasses? That shit is distracting as all get out.
Her: You're unbelieveable.
Me: Crumbelievable.
Her: I hate you.
Me: I wonder what's going on under those eyes
Her: I was just thinking the same thing.
Me: Yea, you think he has eye balls and pupils or like, bloody gaping holes he can scare children with? Or like, interchangeable glass eyes with like, one he could even keep a gold fish in?
Her: Ok, I wasn't thinking the same thing.
Me: Durn tootin'... anyway, you know he doesn't or else why would he have his eyes closed right now.

And then to cap off the evening, I was relieved to have my hatred for the Grammy's renewed with the following exchange (In reference to a portion of the show I missed watching Iron Chef Cat Cora have her ass tarred and feathered in battle chocolate):

Her: I was glad Rhianna won, I like her so much.
Me: Oh, that is just stupendous - what did she win a Grammy for?
Her: Umm... I don't know. Umbrella.
Me: Oh, so best umbrella related song of the year? Are there new categories now? Sweet.
Her: Shut up, all I know is it was up against Kanye.
Me: So best umbrella related and/or Kanye song. A little specific for an award category, I should think. But you were right, the Grammy's aren't a complete waste of time.
Her: God, I hate you.
Me: I bet you remember what color her dress was when she accepted the award though, and that's what really matters.
Her: ...

Friday Music Beej: Arto Lindsay

Arto Lindsay is a Brazilian born musical genuis who was a seminal part of the No Wave movement in the 80's (as part of the band DNA). He then infused Brazilian samba and bossanova pop music into his noise rock and created some albums unlike anything I'd ever heard previously. My very most super favorite thing about him, though, is that he looks like a computer geek.

That's a man who in the mid 80's helped promulgate a scene where guys went on stage and hit their instruments with hammers just to fuck shit up - and forget about tuning those instruments, that shit is for pussies. This contemporary of awesome bands like Sonic Youth and Captain Beefheart has released a number of solo albums. There are three in a row which, I think, perfectly sum up the combination of noise and pop and Brazilia he was trying to accomplish. I highly reccomend any of them: Noon Chill, Prize, or Invoke.

As one might guess, videos online of this fellow are slim pickin's (or so my five second youtube search would have me believe). Anyway, this is a good song - though I'm not sure what it's from.

Nerd Alert: Star Wars Prequel Bitching

Don't worry... honest. This isn’t about how stupid it is that Darth Vader was an obnoxious little kid, or any of that shit. This specific rant is because last night I watched a decent portion of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.

This is generally considered the best of the three prequels, which is equivalent to saying "Well, chlamydia is at least better than syphilis or AIDs!" It might be true, but it's still fucking gross and a stupid thing to say. Anyway, George Lucas of course claims he wrote all six episodes at the same time and the story had all been planned out, and I think there are enough gaping holes in the prequels that a single rewatch of the original three shoots that idea to hell. The problem I found myself with last night, or I guess I should say the biggest problem, was that at the end, Obi-Wan has the opportunity to kill Darth Vader, and he doesn't. One might argue that this is because they were friends, brothers, lovers, etc. Obe's couldn't bring himself to do it. He just could not and would not kill his friend. This argument would be a good one, if only Darth didn't slip towards lava and catch fire. For whatever reason, Obi-Wan just sits there and watches while this "brother" of his writhes in agony with a flaming head and de-limbed body.

Isn't that insanely more cruel than putting him out of his misery and, in turn, coming that much closer to destroying the Sith? And, certainly when he walks away he thinks he is leaving him for dead, no? The Emperor shows up way later to save him. Shouldn't then Obi-Wan and Yoda be surprised to find out he's alive? Shouldn't there have been a conversation between Yoda and Obi-Wan that got real awkward real fast about Annakin's status?

And if anyone had stopped for one second to bring up this point in production, it could have been the easiest thing to fix. There is a scene in Thank You For Smoking where Rob Lowe talks about how smoking in space is an easy fix, despite the all oxygen environment. "Thank God we invented the... you know, whatever machine." This is essentially how George Lucas went about trying to correct his mistakes towards the end of Episode III. "Oh, Obi-Wan, by the way, your old master discovered immortality, I'll show you how to talk to him" "Erase that droids mind, so that he has no idea how implausible this story is" etc. And this one glaring problem that I've been ranting about like a pimply fat kid on break from a game of WoW is the most easily fixable one! Have the Emperor show up as Obi-Wan is about to do him in or something. Whatever, it takes two seconds. UGH.

To make me feel better, I'm posting a bit of Robot Chicken Star Wars

You Don't Mess with The Johan

Clever, right? It's almost like they're making this crappy movie just so assholes like me can use it as pun fodder!

Anyway, I was (and am, obvi) excited about Johan Santana pitching for the Mets. I am happy for him that he will be making, roughly, an assload of money. I used to be in the camp that thought it was stupid and wrong to "go out and buy championships". This was really just because it was something to say to taunt Yankees fans when the Mets sucked and it's a bit more polite than "fuck you in the face". Anyway, I've since learned a bit more about how the game works, and I appreciate that living in a large market affords my team the means to compete on a regular basis. 137.5 million for Santana? Who cares!? Ain't my fucking money. Sure, it's great to see home grown talent like Wright and Reyes play at such a high level (and such eye candy to boot!), but honestly, as much as it's a game we all love - it's also a business, and plus: we traded for Santana, the money thing was a contract extension, it isn't like we bought him out on the open market, you dicks.

So getting to the point (never been my strong suit), Tom Verducci has an article on si.com that explains just how much of a fucking badass Johan actually is. He almost walked away from 137 millions dollars over a five million dollar discrepency. I would say he is completely bats, but thats because I'm poor and plus - you can't really call the guy crazy since he got his way in the end. Anyway, apparently this bit of conversation happened:

"I told you I wasn't backing off my number," Santana told Fred Wilpon. "I appreciate your offer, but I'm passing on it." Wilpon replied, "I've been in business a long time. That's a lot of money to walk away from." "No disrespect to you," Santana said. "But I deserve it. I'll just go back and pitch and I'll get it later. Alex Rodriguez is the highest paid player in the game. I'm the best pitcher. I'm not even asking for that [Rodriguez] kind of money."

That takes balls so large I don't even want to think about their size, lest I become aroused. Also, the rumour is that he may have said, re the incentive bonuses that trigger his option year " "You get my clause, I'll get my Cy Young."

Johan? You sir, are a badass. I am glad to have you on my team. Now quickly, two things. If you pull a Zito, I will hunt you down - like this! Second, please keep your cock away and out of the spot light.

Movie Phases: Troma

When I was younger, I used to go through phases - in terms of types of movies I enjoyed watching. There was a decent period of crappy old horror movies like Sleep Away Camp, and there was also a period where the only thing I watched was The Sound of Music.

The period I'd like to talk about right now, however, is the time when I wanted to see every movie the Troma team put out. I remember it pretty well - I would go to my friend Steve's house down the street and we would find as many of these movies as possible, watch one or two, then smoke pot and play Mario Kart for Nintendo 64.

There are three I remember best, and these were easily my favorite: Tromeo and Juliet, Sgt. Kabukiman NYPD, and Cannibal the Musical.

Cannibal the Musical might be best known because it was Trey Parker and Matt Stone's (of South Park Fame) first movie. It's stupid and hilarious, and all the songs are great and the Indians are played by Japanese people.


Also, the story is essentially about Alfred Packer trying to find his lost horse, Leanne. If you watch the movie with the commentary, you will be rewarded. It consists of the cast sitting around and getting completely hammered, and Trey admitting it was kind of about him losing a girl, and that some of the nastier lines were directed right at her. Nice.

Tromeo and Juliet I remember for few other reasons. There is a scene in which you see a girl get her nipple pierced, and it is every bit as disturbing as it sounds, and also - the leading lady is played by Jane Jensen. I thought she was the bee knee's, and part of the reason to watch it was because both my friend and I loved her album, Comic Book Whore(She's into comic books and refers to herself as a whore? I'm in love!). To answer all your questions at once: Yes, she does have a naked lesbian love scene in the movie, yes she turns into a pig, and yes there is a penis monster in the movie. There is also a surprise twist ending you have to see to believe! Anyway, here's the trailer. I was going to put a clip on here but there all too stupid and/or long for me to watch and figure out if it's worth it at the moment.


Last and certainly not least (but kind of), is Seargant Kabukiman, NYPD. This movie is the story of undercover cop Harry Griswold, trying his best to be a good cop while also being cursed with an ancient Japanese curse that turns him into - you guessed it! - a kabukiman. To be perfectly honest, I don't really remember this one all that well, as I haven't seen it in about a decade - but watching the trailer makes me want to go find it in a dollar bin somewhere and watch the shit out of it!



"I was depressed, I was confused and I was turning Japanese. "

Writers' Strike Takes Its Toll: Monday Evening TV Edition

So last night was just another boring night without the prospect of anything particularly interesting happening. As 8pm rolled around, my options for television programming were severly limited. So shitty in fact, I honestly do not remember what I watched between 8 and 9:30. Nothing on any of the ten HBO channels, no good shows, not even Independence Day or Men In Black or The Fugitive on TBS or TNT!! I was in agony, but going through my DVDs (all the way in another room) was out of the question.

So I settled: Deal or No Deal from 9:30 to 11, with the prospect of switching back and forth to Diners, Drive In's and Dives (which had two back to back episodes on starting at 10pm). Now, you are hopefully wondering why on earth I would want to watch Deal or No Deal. Truth be told, it is solely for schadenfreude. I enjoy watching people get greedy, get offered great deals for more money than they've ever seen before, turn it down because there is a 17% chance their case holds a million dollars, and then lose it all because they're greedy idiots who are charmed by a bald ocd case into believing misleading mathematical ideas.

Anyway, this particular episode was an hour and a half long, and was all new! and different! because this go-round, instead of (1) one million dollar briefcase, there were 10! one million dollar briefcases. It started off wonderfully enough, the woman chose four of the million dollar cases in a row. Way to go, jackass. Actually, let me back up. They never actually announced (or I didn't hear it anyway) how tall the woman actually was, but it's fair to say it was somewhere between 4'8 and 5'1, tops. I don't know if this is SOP for this show, but there were nonstop jokes from both Howie Mandell and the "banker" about how short this broad was - it was awesome. For no reason at all (except to kill time, I know) they brought out one of those things you see at carnivals that says, "you must be this tall..." only this one was the height requirement to win a million dollars. Well played, banker. The button that flashes for the contestant press to make a deal was "malfunctioning" and so the banker rectified the situation by lowering a new button from the ceiling that this chick couldn't have pressed if she were on stilts. You win, banker. In the end she fucked up having 10!!! million dollar cases and made a deal for like, just under three hundred grand. Who cares, I know. The important thing is that you read on, and understand just how awesome Diners, Drive In's and Dives is.

Hosted by Guy Fierri, -the winner of season 2 of The Next Food Network Star- this show travels across America to (you guessed it) awesome diners, drive in's and dives to places that have the best specials and delicacies. Guy is kind of ridiculous, with bleached blond spikey hair, and sunglasses that he wears backwards under his ears, and he also describes food as "money" and "out of bounds". He also refers to the show as "Triple D". I think I might hate him. All he does is go to amazing restaurants and eat ridiculously good food. I don't know if it is the show I like, so much as the idea of having his job. I came to the same conclusion while watching Road Tasted and Feasting on Asphalt.

On Road Tasted, Paula Deen's two sons, who are also essentially best friends, go to a particular city each episode and go to famous and reknowned shops and eat delicious food and see how it's all made. They are obviously having an insane amount of fun and I am supremely jealous.

On Feasting on Asphalt, Alton Brown travels cross country on a motorcycle - taking only backroads, to get a taste for real American food. He has gotten to eat some of the most amazing looking food, and take incredible road trips on a motorcycle with friends. I am even more jealous of this show, since Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is one of my favorite books, and since I don't have the balls to own or ride a motorcycle, or the balls to take a cross country trip.

Have a look - below are some clips.

Diners Drive In's and Dives


Feasting on Asphalt


Road Tasted

Instant Boner Fuel: Arrested Development Movie Actually Happening?!

Since the best show on TV went off the air, fans have been hoping and praying for some kind of follow up: getting picked up by Showtime or HBO, a feature length movie, anything at all. Well, this just in on Rotten Tomatoes:

"E! Online has helped break the news, obtaining confirmation from Jason Bateman that the show's producers, Mitch Hurwitz and Ron Howard, "have put the wheels in motion" for an Arrested Development feature film. Just like everything else these days, the project's start date is dependent on a strike resolution, but Bateman's words are encouraging:"I can confirm that a round of sniffing has started. Any talk is targeting a poststrike situation, of course. I think, as always, that it's a question of whether the people with the money are willing to give our leader, Mitch Hurwitz, what he deserves for his participation. And I can speak for the cast when I say our fingers are crossed."E! also reports that Bateman's fellow Development star, Jeffrey Tambor, was recently asked about his willingness to participate in a feature film adaptation; although you'll need to click on the link below to hear his full-length response, we can tell you it was enthusiastically affirmative."

HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. Please let this happen, and sweet merciful crap you fucks end this goddamn strike right now, says I.

And just because it's the perfect excuse to do so, here's some Tobias.

Donkey Nips: Or, Where Are They Now - Salute Your Shorts! Edition

I actually didn't see this commercial during last nights' game, and that might be for the better, because I would have freak out. It's a commercial for Amped Energy Drink, and the premise is a simple one, and it is as follows: Donkey Lips jump starts a car by clamping those metal dealies to his nipples and drinking an Amped Energy Drink, and then dancing. That's it. That's the whole

commercial.

Now, Donkey Lips, aka Michael Bowers, played an important part on Salute Your Shorts. He was Otis to Budnick's Lex Luthor, helping to take part in his genius friends schemes, fucking up the plan, being fat, etc.

Some interesting facts from his wikipedia page:

Bower is a former practicing member of Scientology.
Recently, he was a rapper.
He has also appeared as a contestant on Singled Out. (I wonder how he did).

The rap thing I actually remember and swore he had a myspace page with some of the rap songs on it. All of them were amazing, and I'm pissed I can't find any of the songs now.

EDIT: turns out the page is actually gone. Now I'm fucking depressed.

So That Explains It!

When I tried to register a domain name - and there was only one I wanted - can you believe it, it was taken! Of all the rotten luck. I spent months and months wondering where to go from there, to no avail. So here it is, the reason I couldn't register "mytalkingstain.com". The content of their site is much different than what I had planned too... Oh well.

Monday Morning Myth Busting: Baseball

So Yersterday there was some kind of sports contest on at some point during the day. Anyway, leading up to the Superbowl, I was hard pressed to find something entertaining to watch on television since Sunday's are generally rot-days in the Pemulis household. I wear clothes that no self respecting person would wear in public, just to have an extra incentive not to leave the house. I plant my rear firmly in the recliner with the intention of moving only to and from the bathroom and kitchen and only when absolutely necessary. Since I had no desire to watch six hours of nonsense about why Michael Strahan is something something about the something bowl, I spent a good part of the day hitting the 'fav' button on the remote, desparate to find something entertaining.

Thankfully, Discovery Channel was running a Mythbusters marathon. Unfortunately, I've seen alot of episodes, including several of the ones aired... But, there was one I hadn't seen. It was all about baseball myths, which sounded like it could be really awesome. Turned out to be a mixed bag of pretty cool and kind of stupid.

One myth was about whether or not corked bats actually provide any sort of boost, in terms of power hitting. Surprisingly, they determined that though the bat is lighter, which makes for a faster swing, the cork inside acts like a sponge, and soaks up alot of that enery. This in turn makes the ball leave the bat at almost half the speed of an uncorked bat hitting the same ball.

Here's a behind the scenes video of the experiment:


Another interesting myth they tried to tackle, but kind of fucked up, was whether or not sliding into a base (that you aren't allowed to overrun) is faster than just running and coming to a complete stop. This means they tried running from first to second and just stopping at second base, and then tried again - this time sliding into second. While the results proved that sliding into second was a tad faster than just running and stopping; I think this experiment kind of missed the point of whatever question the fan may have sent in to be tested. I would imagine that one of the bigger reasons to slide into a base that can't be overran (ie 2nd and 3rd) is to try and avoid a tag, as well as not to completely fuck up your ankle trying to come to a sudden and complete stop from running full speed. What I think would have been much more interesting would have been to see whether or not running to first (which you're allowed to overrun) is that much faster than the head first dive into first that we Mets fans see Jose Reyes do so often. I want to know if he should be bonked on the head and slapped repeatedly or if it doesn't make much difference. Anyway, the best part of the segment might be that all these mythbuster guys are complete nerds who don't know thing one about baseball, let alone how to slide. Also, Grant (the Asian guy) refers to robot combat as a sport, and after failing to complete a slide, suggests that he could build a robot that could slide. Also built by Grant, for Grant: robot for sex, robot for snuggling, robot for bondage, and robots for combat (I'm pretty sure he actually competed and one on that short lived show Battle Bots).



Other myths busted: it's impossible to knock the hide off a baseball, there's no such thing as a rising fastball, and humid balls do not travel as far as dry balls. Blue balls, on the other hand, never seem to make it past second base, regardless of the humidity.

Friday Music Beej: The National

Yea, I know.  But better late than never, as a feller says.  Anyway, this week's music beej goes to The National.  My biggest problem with a lot of the music I thoroughly enjoy is that several of the bands are from Brooklyn, and can be seen in and around Williamsburgh fairly often.  I cannot walk down Bedford Avenue without imaging murdering every single person I see.  Yes, hipsters, you are ruining everything.  But either way, there is a lot of good music coming from that area, and The National are no exception.

Anyway, The National have release four albums, but the most recent three, Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers, Alligator, and Boxer are leaps and bounds better than their self-titled debut, and each one is excellent in its own way.  Sad Songs is the most direct - lyrically speaking - and it has some incredible lyrics for being as blunt as they are.  On the album opener Cardinal Song, singer Matt Berninger suggests: "Let her treat you like a criminal/so you can treat her like a priest/girls forgive my human mind/girls forgive me one more time.  Never tell the one you love that you do/save it for the deathbed/ when you know you've kept her wanting you"

Alligator may have been my favorite album of 2005, with standout tracks like Secret Meeting and the insanely awesome rocking closer, Mr. November.  A number of people aren't quite thrilled with his voice, but I think his baritone delivery fits perfectly over the lush guitar lines and the more fleshed out sounds Alligator brought to the table.  It's an album that bears repeat listens and I find new bits and turns of phrase each time that make me appreciate it more and more.

Alright, enough with the jibber-jabber.  You listen and you see for yourself.

Mistaken for Strangers from Boxer

Mr. November from Alligator

Lucky You from Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers

Frozen in time

Saw this video on Gorillamask earlier today and got to thinking. Well, here. Watch first.



Now, seeing as I commute to and from Grand Central every day, I find this especially hilarious. But what I began to wonder was how long would it take before people started misbehaving? Not the people standing still, mind you. No, no, the other people. Is five minutes the maximum amount of time they could have stood frozen like that without any reprecussions? How long before someone steals someone elses wallet, since they're frozen in time, and do they break character to try and prevent it? How much do they love their art? And how long until someone is molested? "Oh, there's a pretty lady, frozen in time, I'm sure she won't mind this" *honk, honk*. How long before someone's pants are pulled down for the sake of comedy? Where were the homeless while this was taking place. If you look in any direction at Grand Central you're bound to see at least three. Anyway, I guess what I'm saying is that it's a good thing I wasn't there when this happened. ( Or is it? I could have had so many wallets!)