Ken vs. the City

It’s been muggy out lately, and while the out-doors can be uncomfortable, the subways have turned into a downright unbearable sticky mess. You sweat bullets waiting for that gloriously air-conditioned train.

New York subways aren’t known for their cleanliness, and add to that perspiration and body-odor, and you end up not wanting to touch anything. And for those really paranoid, there’s this silly little device:

http://www.uncrate.com/men/gear/travel-luggage/transtrap-001351.php

Seventeen bucks and germ obsessed straphangers* never have to touch anything in the subway again.

*straphangers: people who regularly ride the New York City transit system. (they have all sorts of wierd words here)

Check me out. According to The Classic Leading Man Test, I’m Jimmy Stewart. Que sera sera, isn’t that right, Harvey? Merry Christmas, Building & Loan!

Jimmy Stewart You scored 23% Tough, 9% Roguish, 42% Friendly, and 23% Charming!

You are the fun and friendly boy next door, the classic nice guy who still manages to get the girl most of the time. You’re every nice girl’s dreamboat, open and kind, nutty and charming, even a little mischievous at times, but always a real stand up guy. You’re dependable and forthright, and women are drawn to your reliability, even as they’re dazzled by your sense of adventure and fun. You try to be tough when you need to be, and will gladly stand up for any damsel in distress, but you’d rather catch a girl with a little bit of flair. Your leading ladies include Jean Arthur and Donna Reed, those sweet girl-next-door types. Find out what kind of classic dame you’d make by taking the Classic Dames Test.

This past Monday was the last free movie show at Bryant Park. I probably wouldn’t have gone if not for some friends who decided to go. The movie was Jaws, the movie that made everyone in the 1970’s afraid of going into the swimming pool. And I realized it’s still as potent as it was when I saw it as a kid. The only difference was, I understood the reason for the fear: ordinary men go out on tiny boat to kill huge aquatic man-eating death machine.

The crusty old veteran hunts them, the educated rich kid studies them, and the poor old sheriff who’s afraid of boats is responsible for all of them. In the end what takes ol’ Jawsie down is not working-class muscle and experience, or scientific know-how with its technological toys. It’s just a man with a rifle and a good old-fashioned exploding tin can.

One thing I though was a little wierd at first was that everyone in the audience cheered whenever someone got torn to shreds by the shark. At first I thought the crowd was messed up, and was reveling in some warped blood-lust. But then I realized they were cheering for the shark, who even though had no lines in the whole movie, is undisputedly one of the main character. He’s so famous he even has his own theme music known the world over. And it was the shark that helped propel Spielberg to the top of the movie-making food chain. So cheer away. Go, sharkie, go.

I scored a free ticket to The Lion King yesterday, and it was quite a show. I’ve been in the city nearly 7 months already and this is the first Broadway show I’ve been to so far. My editor had an extra ticket that she wasn’t going to use, so she gave it to me. I immediately jumped at the oppertunity to see the show. I admire Disney’s expansion into musical theater. It was a gutsy move that paid off.

I’ve heard reviews about the show before, but I really didn’t know what to expect. The seat I got couldn’t have been more ideal. It was right in the orchestra section, not too close to the stage. The story is just like the Lion King movie, so there were no surprises there. The biggest treat was the choreography and the costumes. For the opening scene, where all the animals gather to pay tribute to Simba, people in ornate animal costumes file down towards the stage throught the audience, each one contains some esence of both the person in the costume, and the animal that particular costume represents.

People audibly gasped when they saw the giraffes, which were actually people on stilts. At first I thought the animal elements of some of the costumes had to be pneumatic (both Mufasa and Scar had lion masks that could be raised and lowered in front of their faces), but then I realized it was all manipulated by cables connected to different limbs that could be manipulated by subtle arm movements.

The dancing was really cool. It was all africanesque, with some cheesy hip-hop and rock n’ roll stuff thrown in, and made for an absolutely amazingly artstic spectacle. It’s no wonder people are willing to fork out a hundred bucks or more to see the show.

I have neither the time, nor the energy to do what this guy did. He walked down every single streen in Manhattan and has the pictures to prove it. The site is chock full o’ photos and some interesting historical commentary, along with a few now-and-then pictures.

http://www.newyorkcitywalk.com/

On my way home from work, I catch the subway at Union Square. There’s usually someone there with a megaphone, or a lone person giving a speech about something, but yesterday there was a little war protest. There were people carrying signs and everything.

I’ve never been to an anti-war protest before, so I decided to check it out. The crowd was gathered around a woman who was talking about someone who was soon to be executed in Texas. How that played in to the anti-war movement, I have no idea, but pretty soon the crowd started chanting “Shut the war down; bring the troop home. Shut the war down; bring the troops home…” The woman in the middle would say something, and then the crowd would repeat it back again in a chant that grew louder and louder. And there I was in the middle of a small crowd of loud angry people.

It seemed as if people were giving themselves over to the words, without giving any thought to what they mean, or where they came from. The way the energy built itself up reminded me of a cult, with everyone mindlessly repeating over and over again the slogans the woman in the middle had said, causing the energy to build and build and build. I became immediately afraid for these people who seemed to give themselves over to an unthinking group mentality that can only be described as mob-like.

And I became afraid for myself too. If any of these people should believe I disagreed with the group, would I provoke anger in them? I quickly left. Obviously my fears were unfounded. This small group of people was a long way off from being dangerous, and the energy built by the chants would simmer down as people got hungry or decided to talk about other things. Still, it seemed like the same mindset that led the mobs of ancient Rome to demand free bread and gladitorial games.

I can think of few greater dangers than that this country should devolve into mob rule. A dictatorship only gives you one dictator. Mob rule gives you a million. I wish there was a way to combat this kind of group psychology.

I saw the March of the Penguins on Friday with some friends. That’s the first time I’ve ever gone out to see a documentary in a regular movie theater. You might think it was a big yawn, but oh, no.

It’s not what I’d call action packed, but it kept me on the edge of my seat just the same. Can the wobbly little birds find each other across the vast frozen wastes of Antarcitca? Will they defy the bitter cold and hatch the egg? Will the cute little baby penguin chick survive the perils of the icy wind and sub-zero temperatures? Dum dum dum… Stay tuned.

Yep. Emperor Penguins are cute little tuxedo-clad bowling pins that make the march every winter back and forth, to and from their breeding ground across the great ice sheets of the southernmost continent in support of the annual family unit. All to hatch a single egg. The male for the female, the female for the male, and both for the chick.

It kind of makes me wonder why human parents aren’t that tough. Instead of braving the cold, with each one worrying about only themselves, they choose to divorce and abandon the growing child, or abort the egg before the little one even gets to see the light of day. And they believe it’s okay. At least that’s the way they seem in movies or on TV. Sometimes human beings can be real wusses.

I was supposed to go to the Yankees-White Sox game yesterday with some friends, but we weren’t able to get tickets. They had some available, but they were beyond the realm of reasonable affordability. I’m a little disappointed. I haven’t been to a ball game* yet, but no worries.

I did miss out on seeing this guy though. I would’ve gotten baseball and entertainment. Just kidding. On a dare he jumped from the upper deck and plumeted 50 feet into the net behind home plate, stopping the game for a few minutes. I guess “jump in the stands” means something completely different in New York than it does in Wisconsin. I’m just glad no one got hurt.

*”ball game” means baseball in New York, whereas “ball game” means football in Wisconsin.

It ain’t on printed paper, but it counts. Here’s an article on search engine optimization (SEO) I wrote for work. I’m actually surprised at how quickly it got published. I thought of an idea. I wrote it. The editor liked it, and it was published in the newsletter. That’s it.

If only it were that easy all the time. Or maybe it is..?

I’ve also written a few things on their editorial web site, where I have to pretend to be an industry insider. Of course, now that I’m an online advertising industry (sort of) journalist, does that make me an insider? Who knows. I’ll tell you in a year or so.

I just finished reading Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. It was written in the early 30’s, but man, is that book scary. It describes a “civilized” world caught up by the shallowest pleasures without pain and suffering; a world I believe serves as a good illustration of the meaninglessness of happiness without any depth of joy.

It’s enough to drive a man to his death…