Spent most of these three days that I have off trying to find a job. Thursday through Sunday I'm spending in Asbury Park, doing my best to build Benny Go Home into something more than a slogan. It's going pretty well, but it is, as it always has been, a labor of love. That's how I always describe BGH, though when I talk about love, I'm not just talking about BGH, I'm talking about my home. It's awesome to be doing something that people appreciate, that they can get behind whole-heartedly.
But alas, I gots ta get paid. Thus I am seeking outside employment that I can use to pay the bills. I'm perfectly capable of doing everything that I need to do for BGH and holding a full time gig. Hell for the last semester of school I did what I needed to for BGH, held a part-time job, an internship, and went to school full time. I like to stay busy, keeps me focused. I have way too much time on my hands right now and would love to sacrifice 40 hours a week to the higher cause of paying bills. At least I'll be working for the weekend.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thankful for Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday with my first being Christmas and third being Independence Day. Not surprisingly, this correlates with my list of favorite things: gifts, food, and explosions.
Not only is Thanksgiving the start of the holiday season, which while being the most exploitative time of the year still manages to hang on to its "most wonderful time of the year" label, its the only holiday that is completely food oriented. With no birth of nations or messiahs to get in the way, food takes center stage. People obsess over their meals and it seems that no matter how many times people cook a Thanksgiving dinner, they're always unsure about it. That means that every year something turns out different, even if the menu never changes.
Not to mention the fact that I love turkey and it is the one day out of the year that I get to eat it home cooked. Some people luck out and have it for Christmas too, but I usually get stuck with dry, salty ham. The rest of the year it's either "It was just Thanksgiving" or "Thanksgiving's around the corner" and the turkey drought continues until the following November. At least I still have a few days of leftovers before gravy soaked breast meat, marshmallowed sweet potatoes, and savory sausage filled stuffing become just memories for another long year.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Lament of the Comic Nerd
This is probably the angriest I've ever been after coming home from my weekly trip to the comic shop.
Normally I come home looking forward to diving into one of my favorite books, but not so much this week. I'm home empty handed. There was not a single thing out this week that was worth my time and money. Why?
Let's start with Captain America: The Chosen #1. This is the story about the last days of Captain America and is supposed to be like the Spider-man: Reign mini-series which was supposed to be like The Dark Knight Returns. There's a huge flaw with this book and that happens to be its timing. It comes out months after Captain America was killed off in a way that is nothing like this book. "Captain America is dead! But here's another way it could have happened..." No thanks. Any weight the story may have had is gone thanks to the whole 'killing off a dead character' angle.
Next we have the beginning of the end of J. Micheal Straczynski's way too long run on Amazing Spider-Man with Amazing Spider-Man #544. Sure his run started out good and for a while featured the awesome art of John Romita Jr. but fell off pretty quickly due to his seemly stubborn refusal to use classic Spider-Man villains in a way that didn't involve them sleeping with the long dead Gwen Stacy. Now we have poor old Aunt May on her death bed since Civil War and Peter Parker's been crying ever since. Her death has been dragged on for months and any impact it may have had was scraped off miles back up the road. Not only that but this whole "One More Day" story has been hyped for so long I feel like I've already read the damn thing. Guess what? Apparently Peter and Mary Jane won't be a couple anymore or whatever. Marvel chose to use the ends this "event" is supposed to accomplish as a way of promoting it thus removing the point of telling the story. I'm just looking forward to the next arc which will be JMS-free and may actually feature some of the witty banter and awesome villains that makes reading Spidey worth while. Oh and one more thing. Joe Quesada is a douche-bag. He's the one drawing "One More Day" and while he is a great artist and decent Editor-in-Chief of Marvel Comics, that little "Still Only $3.99!" tag he slapped on his cover is not in the least bit funny. "This issue is over-priced! Isn't that a stitch?" Must be hilarious to the folks collecting the dough but it's a slap in the face to those on the other side of the equation.
Normally I come home looking forward to diving into one of my favorite books, but not so much this week. I'm home empty handed. There was not a single thing out this week that was worth my time and money. Why?
Let's start with Captain America: The Chosen #1. This is the story about the last days of Captain America and is supposed to be like the Spider-man: Reign mini-series which was supposed to be like The Dark Knight Returns. There's a huge flaw with this book and that happens to be its timing. It comes out months after Captain America was killed off in a way that is nothing like this book. "Captain America is dead! But here's another way it could have happened..." No thanks. Any weight the story may have had is gone thanks to the whole 'killing off a dead character' angle.
Next we have the beginning of the end of J. Micheal Straczynski's way too long run on Amazing Spider-Man with Amazing Spider-Man #544. Sure his run started out good and for a while featured the awesome art of John Romita Jr. but fell off pretty quickly due to his seemly stubborn refusal to use classic Spider-Man villains in a way that didn't involve them sleeping with the long dead Gwen Stacy. Now we have poor old Aunt May on her death bed since Civil War and Peter Parker's been crying ever since. Her death has been dragged on for months and any impact it may have had was scraped off miles back up the road. Not only that but this whole "One More Day" story has been hyped for so long I feel like I've already read the damn thing. Guess what? Apparently Peter and Mary Jane won't be a couple anymore or whatever. Marvel chose to use the ends this "event" is supposed to accomplish as a way of promoting it thus removing the point of telling the story. I'm just looking forward to the next arc which will be JMS-free and may actually feature some of the witty banter and awesome villains that makes reading Spidey worth while. Oh and one more thing. Joe Quesada is a douche-bag. He's the one drawing "One More Day" and while he is a great artist and decent Editor-in-Chief of Marvel Comics, that little "Still Only $3.99!" tag he slapped on his cover is not in the least bit funny. "This issue is over-priced! Isn't that a stitch?" Must be hilarious to the folks collecting the dough but it's a slap in the face to those on the other side of the equation.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Post-Modern World Rant
As of late, I find myself increasingly infatuated with a time long passed. Like a little girl dreaming of being a princess in the days of knights and dragons, I wonder what life was like for my grandparents when they were my age. Romanticizing about a time when men were men and all of them proudly wore fedoras unless they were bathing, sleeping or fornicating (and I’m sure sometimes even then). A time when actors of the silver screen had grace and poise despite their rampant substance abuse. A time when America’s greatest enemies stood under a foreign flag and not in her highest halls of power. A time when skirts were long and pants were higher than the crowd at a Dave Matthews concert.
Today I sprayed myself with Old Spice and tried to imagine it being an alluring scent to all women and not a stench associated with old men and colostomy bags. I also bought a fedora and am hoping that people will understand that I believe it to be a classy, practical hat and not ask me if I feel “Justified” in wearing it. I’m not trying to make a fashion statement, I’m trying to make a cultural one.
Once upon a time people had passion. I cannot think of anything that shows our world’s lack of passion more than text messaging on cell phones. Here we are with the power to contact our friends and loved ones with the push of a button, location be damned, and instead of choosing to speak and hear each other’s voices we send a brief short-hand message. I doubt a single person in our generation is capable of producing anything as heartfelt and passionate as a Civil War letter or even a WWII letter.
They say letter writing is a lost art, but it was never an art at all. At the time it was just another communication medium like talking on the phone is today. We look back on it and see it as art because of how well-written and meaningful it is and how dreadfully mundane our own interactions have become.
It was once considered rude to take a phone call while interacting with another person. Now people will whip out their cell phones and start texting without hesitation or excusing themselves. People will only grow manners when it is absolutely necessary. Unless you have control over someone’s job or sex life you can expect them to be as polite in front of you as they would a toilet.
Perhaps these problems will solve themselves in time, but as long as people continue their lives in a self-centered manner it is doubtful. People used to treat each other with respect simply because they were another person. I myself feel that respect should be earned, but when I look around and see teenagers being berated for not knowing every little detail about every product their mall job carries I can’t help but rethink that philosophy. I don’t know these people and don’t know whether or not they deserve respect, but wouldn’t a positive upbeat person assume they deserve respect and wait to be shown otherwise? Maybe that’s how people used to think but now we all think we’re so damned important and special that we feel everyone owes us for gracing them with our presence.
Today I sprayed myself with Old Spice and tried to imagine it being an alluring scent to all women and not a stench associated with old men and colostomy bags. I also bought a fedora and am hoping that people will understand that I believe it to be a classy, practical hat and not ask me if I feel “Justified” in wearing it. I’m not trying to make a fashion statement, I’m trying to make a cultural one.
Once upon a time people had passion. I cannot think of anything that shows our world’s lack of passion more than text messaging on cell phones. Here we are with the power to contact our friends and loved ones with the push of a button, location be damned, and instead of choosing to speak and hear each other’s voices we send a brief short-hand message. I doubt a single person in our generation is capable of producing anything as heartfelt and passionate as a Civil War letter or even a WWII letter.
They say letter writing is a lost art, but it was never an art at all. At the time it was just another communication medium like talking on the phone is today. We look back on it and see it as art because of how well-written and meaningful it is and how dreadfully mundane our own interactions have become.
It was once considered rude to take a phone call while interacting with another person. Now people will whip out their cell phones and start texting without hesitation or excusing themselves. People will only grow manners when it is absolutely necessary. Unless you have control over someone’s job or sex life you can expect them to be as polite in front of you as they would a toilet.
Perhaps these problems will solve themselves in time, but as long as people continue their lives in a self-centered manner it is doubtful. People used to treat each other with respect simply because they were another person. I myself feel that respect should be earned, but when I look around and see teenagers being berated for not knowing every little detail about every product their mall job carries I can’t help but rethink that philosophy. I don’t know these people and don’t know whether or not they deserve respect, but wouldn’t a positive upbeat person assume they deserve respect and wait to be shown otherwise? Maybe that’s how people used to think but now we all think we’re so damned important and special that we feel everyone owes us for gracing them with our presence.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Six Feet Under the Boardwalk
Bury me under the boardwalk,
Bury me at the shore,
What sounds await in a graveyard,
I’d rather death not be a bore.
I don’t believe in heaven or hell,
I don’t believe in hades, Vallhalla or sheol,
While these ideas comfort some,
In death awaits only a cold, dark hole.
Why be buried in a place of sadness,
Where widows, sons and daughters come to weep,
Why rest where you’d never go in life,
When you’d rather be at home to sleep.
And your home is where you make it,
Where your best memories are made,
For me home is the Jersey Shore,
In death that’s where I want to be laid.
Don’t think this verse morbid,
Don’t think my thoughts to be black,
I plan to live a long life,
I just know there’s no turning back.
And when my time comes,
I want to hear the crashing waves,
I want no part of the silence,
Others will get from their graves.
So bury me in Seaside,
Bury me down in Point,
Six feet under the boardwalk,
And roll yourself a joint.
For when I shuffle off my mortal coil,
There will be no reason to cry,
The sea will be my roommate,
My neighbor the starry sky.
And in the summer the beach will come to life,
And I’ll be the only one,
Sunbathing underground,
Still in on all the fun.
Bury me at the shore,
What sounds await in a graveyard,
I’d rather death not be a bore.
I don’t believe in heaven or hell,
I don’t believe in hades, Vallhalla or sheol,
While these ideas comfort some,
In death awaits only a cold, dark hole.
Why be buried in a place of sadness,
Where widows, sons and daughters come to weep,
Why rest where you’d never go in life,
When you’d rather be at home to sleep.
And your home is where you make it,
Where your best memories are made,
For me home is the Jersey Shore,
In death that’s where I want to be laid.
Don’t think this verse morbid,
Don’t think my thoughts to be black,
I plan to live a long life,
I just know there’s no turning back.
And when my time comes,
I want to hear the crashing waves,
I want no part of the silence,
Others will get from their graves.
So bury me in Seaside,
Bury me down in Point,
Six feet under the boardwalk,
And roll yourself a joint.
For when I shuffle off my mortal coil,
There will be no reason to cry,
The sea will be my roommate,
My neighbor the starry sky.
And in the summer the beach will come to life,
And I’ll be the only one,
Sunbathing underground,
Still in on all the fun.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Dream a Little Dream
My alarm clock is taunting me. It's just sitting there on the floor, showing me the time as it always does, but right now it's showing me that it's 7:30 in the morning. That is earlier than the time it normally tells me.
I had been fast asleep. I was lying on my stomach on my worn mattress, which now fells more like a sidewalk with a sheet over it than anything else. But I was also driving somewhere far away to see someone I did not want to see. It was the experience of seeing that person and not the hardness of my bed that has me sitting here uncomfortably, typing instead of sleeping.
Remembering my dreams is something that I do about as often I go to the library, almost never. When I do, however, they tend to leave a bit of an impression on me. Like right now as I think about driving with someone I barely know to see someone I have hurt in the past.
Telling someone about your dreams is useless. If you and I were to walk into a bar and then go on to describe what happened there to someone, they would understand fully. Chances are they've been in a bar and would be able to put together a mostly accurate picture of what you describe. They would build upon their own experiences and memories in order to visualize the anecdote (or fain interest in what you are saying and think about what they want for lunch).
Now what if you describe a dream? You may be able to convey the dream down to the last detail but dreams are not like reality. Everyone's mind's eye is different and capable of different things. Dreams can skip around, not make sense, take place from a perspective not your own, and generally defy every law that limits your reality. Dreams are just as much emotion as they are imagery. And those emotions mean something to you but cannot be felt the same way by others. Dreams are deeply personal for this reason (not to mention the fact that the whole thing takes place inside your head).
So while I'll probably tell someone today about the trip I took while I was asleep and what happened when I saw her, I'll do it merely to get the dream out of me. To alleviate the pressure from the feelings it stirred up and to help me maintain my sanity.
I had been fast asleep. I was lying on my stomach on my worn mattress, which now fells more like a sidewalk with a sheet over it than anything else. But I was also driving somewhere far away to see someone I did not want to see. It was the experience of seeing that person and not the hardness of my bed that has me sitting here uncomfortably, typing instead of sleeping.
Remembering my dreams is something that I do about as often I go to the library, almost never. When I do, however, they tend to leave a bit of an impression on me. Like right now as I think about driving with someone I barely know to see someone I have hurt in the past.
Telling someone about your dreams is useless. If you and I were to walk into a bar and then go on to describe what happened there to someone, they would understand fully. Chances are they've been in a bar and would be able to put together a mostly accurate picture of what you describe. They would build upon their own experiences and memories in order to visualize the anecdote (or fain interest in what you are saying and think about what they want for lunch).
Now what if you describe a dream? You may be able to convey the dream down to the last detail but dreams are not like reality. Everyone's mind's eye is different and capable of different things. Dreams can skip around, not make sense, take place from a perspective not your own, and generally defy every law that limits your reality. Dreams are just as much emotion as they are imagery. And those emotions mean something to you but cannot be felt the same way by others. Dreams are deeply personal for this reason (not to mention the fact that the whole thing takes place inside your head).
So while I'll probably tell someone today about the trip I took while I was asleep and what happened when I saw her, I'll do it merely to get the dream out of me. To alleviate the pressure from the feelings it stirred up and to help me maintain my sanity.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Pier Village Sidebar
I transfered to Monmouth after graduating with an Associates Degree from Ocean County College. I've never lived in a dorm. When I began going to Monmouth I found myself in Pier Village. The place is like nothing I've ever seen. Its big, beautiful and surrounded by poverty.
From what I've seen of the place, my best guess is that the buildings were hastily put together and opened before they should have been. My first year here saw countless false alarms with the fire alarm system, the complete repaving of the entire complex and surrounding roads, the construction of about a dozen businesses downstairs and more nail pops than i thought possible. From what I hear, this beats living in a dorm by a long shot and I gotta say I wish I could take this mattress home with me.
Everyday I go downstairs and see the happy shoppers buzzing around going...I don't know where. There really isn't that much to do here. A couple of specialty shops and lots of food. The pizza's great but I'm not about to pay $90 for a Bruce Springstein t-shirt at Nirvana (which by the way is completely sacreligious to a homegrown Jersey boy). The whole point is that Pier Village is gilded and not all its cracked up to be.
Where I have to walk by one of the Mexicans cleaning the building daily, I'm filled with an overpowering guilty that only increases as I drive through the beat up streets of Long Branch. I can't help but think of Kubla Khan.
I live in a Shore town myself, in Toms River (which hugs the Barnegat Bay). I have to agree with my source that I would not want a Pier Village there. The last thing we need there is more tourist money. And as far as Long Branch goes, I seriously doubt Pier Village is going to improve the quality of life of the townspeople. The people with barred windows by the train tracks. Is Pier Village going to lower their taxes and improve their schools? Not if this becomes a resort town. Look at any resort town, you get the nice resorts where all the money comes in and stays and then there's the section where the people might as well be serfs.
Town councils lose sight of the real picture. They want what's best for their town and that is to have a place in there that everyone thinks fondly of. And of course they want their name to be associated with it so they can move on to bigger and better positions. Pier Village does not help the people in the town. Does it create jobs? Yes, for middle class people who live in Ocean and other surrounding towns. The fact remains that some people lost their homes so this place could go up and the poor stayed poor.
From what I've seen of the place, my best guess is that the buildings were hastily put together and opened before they should have been. My first year here saw countless false alarms with the fire alarm system, the complete repaving of the entire complex and surrounding roads, the construction of about a dozen businesses downstairs and more nail pops than i thought possible. From what I hear, this beats living in a dorm by a long shot and I gotta say I wish I could take this mattress home with me.
Everyday I go downstairs and see the happy shoppers buzzing around going...I don't know where. There really isn't that much to do here. A couple of specialty shops and lots of food. The pizza's great but I'm not about to pay $90 for a Bruce Springstein t-shirt at Nirvana (which by the way is completely sacreligious to a homegrown Jersey boy). The whole point is that Pier Village is gilded and not all its cracked up to be.
Where I have to walk by one of the Mexicans cleaning the building daily, I'm filled with an overpowering guilty that only increases as I drive through the beat up streets of Long Branch. I can't help but think of Kubla Khan.
I live in a Shore town myself, in Toms River (which hugs the Barnegat Bay). I have to agree with my source that I would not want a Pier Village there. The last thing we need there is more tourist money. And as far as Long Branch goes, I seriously doubt Pier Village is going to improve the quality of life of the townspeople. The people with barred windows by the train tracks. Is Pier Village going to lower their taxes and improve their schools? Not if this becomes a resort town. Look at any resort town, you get the nice resorts where all the money comes in and stays and then there's the section where the people might as well be serfs.
Town councils lose sight of the real picture. They want what's best for their town and that is to have a place in there that everyone thinks fondly of. And of course they want their name to be associated with it so they can move on to bigger and better positions. Pier Village does not help the people in the town. Does it create jobs? Yes, for middle class people who live in Ocean and other surrounding towns. The fact remains that some people lost their homes so this place could go up and the poor stayed poor.
Pier Village: Long Branch's Salvation or the Shore's Damnation?
Pier Village is undeniably impressive. It stands alone on the shore front of Long Branch as a polished complex featuring bright colors and a scale unlike anything else in the town. Two deluxe apartment buildings, one of which houses a four-story parking garage that is unseen to the outside world, and 30 shops that give the place the feel of an ocean front Broad Street in Red Bank. However, venture too far down the road or even look across the street and it becomes more of a dystopian Xanadu than metropolitan hot spot.
Just across Ocean Ave lies a run-down, lower class neighbor that once also stood where Pier Village now rests. The road is freshly paved and features decorative masonry work at intersections, but the residents are clearly struggling to get by. Meanwhile, they must face this stately pleasure palace that rises high above any of their modest colonials. The average apartment in Pier Village rents for about $2500 dollars per month, making living there a pipe dream for much of the town.
So who lives in Pier Village? Businessmen, doctors, lawyers, airline pilots and college students. Standing in the lobby of the apartment building is to watch a parade of yuppies who seem like they would belong in New York City more than Long Branch. Students of Monmouth University are a frequent sight, as the school houses qualified students several apartments in Pier Village.
Frank Altman, a junior at Monmouth University, has been staying there since January. “It’s okay if you don’t like insulation,” says Altman. Altman says that his apartment has been having problems since winter. “The pipes froze every time the temperature dropped and the windows are so drafty it felt like a meat locker at night.”
Peter Perea, a senior at Monmouth University, stayed at Pier Village last year through the school. “Every morning at 7 am the noise started from them building a Gold’s Gym under my apartment,” says Clancy. “I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like there when they start those two new buildings.”
The buildings Perea refers to are the recently aannounced expansion of Pier Village, where two more retail/apartment buildings are plnned to be built on Ocean Ave, directly in front of the two existing buidlings. Pier Village developers, Applied Development Cos. have the full support of the town council to acquire more land through eminent domain if necessary according to the Alanticville.
“Everyone benefits from Pier Village, especially the rich,” adds Altman. “The little fish get eaten by the big fish, that’s life. The money this place is bringing to the town is more than worth it.”
“I kinda felt guilty looking around seeing the homes of the people who still live down the road,” says Perea. “They all have anti-eminent domain signs on their lawns so this place must seem like one of the four horsemen to them. I wouldn’t want a Pier Village in my town”
Monday, March 12, 2007
Monkeys from Hell
The Central Park Zoo is an incredible place. While nowhere near as big as other zoos in the region, it is still incredible to be able to watch a sea lion and glance over at skyscrapers. It is only a small part of the remarkable man-made oasis located in the heart of Manhattan, but it is awe inspiring none-the-less.
My girlfriend and I stumbled across the zoo quite by accident. We were on our way to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and just happened to see the zoo and chose to go there instead. Paintings are great and all but we sure do love penguins. It was really nice until we found the tamarins.
Tamarins are cute little monkeys with very fuzzy bodies and hairless black faces. I have had a previous run-in with these primates at the Cape May Zoo. At that zoo I had wanted to the little guys to come over to where I was standing so I made a squeaking noise with my mouth. It work and a few scurried over. Then I made the sound again and they began screaming at me. They wouldn't stop the high pitched screech that put me off a bit and embarrassed the hell out of my girlfriend. They then became known as the "Pat Hating Monkeys".
This encounter with tamarins wasn't an better. They were behind glass so any squeaking from me would not incur their wrath, but they found another way to disturb me. When a walked up a cute little thing ran up to the glass and sat there on the limb on a tree instead the cage. I felt bad for him because it looked as though he had a spot of mange just below his neck on his back. Another tamarin ran up behind him and looked like he was going to groom his friend. But the first monkey pulled away. The second monkey was insistent and eventually found the sore spot on the other's back. He brushed the hair away and my girlfriend remarked "Oh, look he wants to help him." Then, as if on cue, the second tamarin bit into the injured tamarin's sore spot and ripped a piece of flesh from his back which he then ate.
Tamarins are not as cute as they look.
My girlfriend and I stumbled across the zoo quite by accident. We were on our way to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and just happened to see the zoo and chose to go there instead. Paintings are great and all but we sure do love penguins. It was really nice until we found the tamarins.
Tamarins are cute little monkeys with very fuzzy bodies and hairless black faces. I have had a previous run-in with these primates at the Cape May Zoo. At that zoo I had wanted to the little guys to come over to where I was standing so I made a squeaking noise with my mouth. It work and a few scurried over. Then I made the sound again and they began screaming at me. They wouldn't stop the high pitched screech that put me off a bit and embarrassed the hell out of my girlfriend. They then became known as the "Pat Hating Monkeys".
This encounter with tamarins wasn't an better. They were behind glass so any squeaking from me would not incur their wrath, but they found another way to disturb me. When a walked up a cute little thing ran up to the glass and sat there on the limb on a tree instead the cage. I felt bad for him because it looked as though he had a spot of mange just below his neck on his back. Another tamarin ran up behind him and looked like he was going to groom his friend. But the first monkey pulled away. The second monkey was insistent and eventually found the sore spot on the other's back. He brushed the hair away and my girlfriend remarked "Oh, look he wants to help him." Then, as if on cue, the second tamarin bit into the injured tamarin's sore spot and ripped a piece of flesh from his back which he then ate.
Tamarins are not as cute as they look.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Internet and Newspapers
People need news. This is a simple fact that has guided the news media and made their work possible since the dawn of journalism. For decades, sitting with the morning newspaper to get news has been a tradition in millions of homes. It was as essential to many people's morning rituals as a cup of coffee. However with the rise of the Internet came Internet journalism. This medium has evolved quickly into a well-oiled machine that makes information available for free as soon as it happens. Newspapers remain a paper based medium that is only available every morning.
Information is now available almost instantly twenty-four hours a day on the Internet. Not only this, but the information is free most of the time. When faced with the option to learn about something for free as it happens, or to wait for the next day and pay for it, which would you choose?
The declining readership is doubly deadly to newspapers. Declining readership means declining sales. Consider all of the cost that goes into printing a newspaper. Hire a staff of editors, writers, photographers, buy a printing press, ink, paper, delivery systems and you're not even there yet. No one buys the paper, there is no way to afford getting the paper to the public. Sure a lot of the cost of printing a newspaper actually comes from advertising, but as readers leave so do the advertisers. The advertisers choose to go to where there product can get more exposure, be seen by more people, for less money. That is the Internet. Even newspaper mainstays such as classified ads and auto listings have moved to sites like Monster and Cars.com. At sites like these, employers can give more job details and access resumes while those selling used cars can post pictures for potential buyers.
Newspapers are not being completely left in the dust as they have begun publishing their articles on Web Sites. It is hard to find a newspaper that does not have an Internet edition. Whether it be a large, reputable paper such as The New York Times or The Washington Post, or local newspapers such as The Asbury Park Press and The Ocean County Observer. However, Business Week reports that even these ventures are not enough to help the newspapers continue to publish their paper editions.
Rupert Murdoch, media mogul at the head of News Corporation, believes writer Philip Meyer's assertion that the law issue of a newspaper will be printed some time in 2040. The future certainly looks grim for newspapers. Print is dying and it will be buried in a computer box.
Information is now available almost instantly twenty-four hours a day on the Internet. Not only this, but the information is free most of the time. When faced with the option to learn about something for free as it happens, or to wait for the next day and pay for it, which would you choose?
The declining readership is doubly deadly to newspapers. Declining readership means declining sales. Consider all of the cost that goes into printing a newspaper. Hire a staff of editors, writers, photographers, buy a printing press, ink, paper, delivery systems and you're not even there yet. No one buys the paper, there is no way to afford getting the paper to the public. Sure a lot of the cost of printing a newspaper actually comes from advertising, but as readers leave so do the advertisers. The advertisers choose to go to where there product can get more exposure, be seen by more people, for less money. That is the Internet. Even newspaper mainstays such as classified ads and auto listings have moved to sites like Monster and Cars.com. At sites like these, employers can give more job details and access resumes while those selling used cars can post pictures for potential buyers.
Newspapers are not being completely left in the dust as they have begun publishing their articles on Web Sites. It is hard to find a newspaper that does not have an Internet edition. Whether it be a large, reputable paper such as The New York Times or The Washington Post, or local newspapers such as The Asbury Park Press and The Ocean County Observer. However, Business Week reports that even these ventures are not enough to help the newspapers continue to publish their paper editions.
Rupert Murdoch, media mogul at the head of News Corporation, believes writer Philip Meyer's assertion that the law issue of a newspaper will be printed some time in 2040. The future certainly looks grim for newspapers. Print is dying and it will be buried in a computer box.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Ryan Humphrey Hates on Ice House
Colorful discs seem to hover on the walls. Bubbles of orange and blue, black and white, red and green placed in a flowing arrangement. These objects cannot be bubbles however because no bubbles could exist with so many holes. The Ice House Gallery at Monmouth University is currently displaying 'Divine Objects of Hatred - remix version 1.0' by Ryan Humphrey.
35-year-old Ryan Humphrey is an independent artist and contestant on Bravo's Top Design. The art he has created for this exhibit is unexpected and anything but ordinary. The gallery's walls are littered with canvas discs that have been brightly colored and then shot full of holes. Yes, with a gun. In fact it would seem that Humphrey used many guns ranging from handguns to rifles to shotguns. The gallery even has a video and free postcards of Humphrey's artistic process (him at the firing range).
The concept is undeniably intriguing, but the works are so numerous and similar that they almost begin to lose whatever sliver of meaning they may have had upon first impression. On top of this they are given bizarre names such as 'Officer Wilinski NYPD', 'Yoko Ono', and 'Nigga, nigga, nigga'. With names like these, one can't help but wonder if Humphrey's rage and violence might be a tad misguided.
Monmouth University sophomore Sarah Jamieson works at the gallery. The Communication major says "I know art is supposed to express an emotion, but I don't think this is a very good emotion." Jamieson went on to say, "It's kinda weird. He just shot them. I don't really think it's art."
Peter Perea, a senior History major at Monmouth University, disagrees with Jamieson's comments. "It's pretty cool." says Perea. "To take so much time to make these discs look so nice only to shoot them all to hell is really unique and inspired."
'Divine Objects of Hatred - remix version 1.0' by Ryan Humphrey will be on display at Monmouth University's Ice House Gallery until March 16, 2007. The exhibit is open to the public and admission is free.
35-year-old Ryan Humphrey is an independent artist and contestant on Bravo's Top Design. The art he has created for this exhibit is unexpected and anything but ordinary. The gallery's walls are littered with canvas discs that have been brightly colored and then shot full of holes. Yes, with a gun. In fact it would seem that Humphrey used many guns ranging from handguns to rifles to shotguns. The gallery even has a video and free postcards of Humphrey's artistic process (him at the firing range).
The concept is undeniably intriguing, but the works are so numerous and similar that they almost begin to lose whatever sliver of meaning they may have had upon first impression. On top of this they are given bizarre names such as 'Officer Wilinski NYPD', 'Yoko Ono', and 'Nigga, nigga, nigga'. With names like these, one can't help but wonder if Humphrey's rage and violence might be a tad misguided.
Monmouth University sophomore Sarah Jamieson works at the gallery. The Communication major says "I know art is supposed to express an emotion, but I don't think this is a very good emotion." Jamieson went on to say, "It's kinda weird. He just shot them. I don't really think it's art."
Peter Perea, a senior History major at Monmouth University, disagrees with Jamieson's comments. "It's pretty cool." says Perea. "To take so much time to make these discs look so nice only to shoot them all to hell is really unique and inspired."
'Divine Objects of Hatred - remix version 1.0' by Ryan Humphrey will be on display at Monmouth University's Ice House Gallery until March 16, 2007. The exhibit is open to the public and admission is free.
Monday, February 5, 2007
Fact Wins - 9/11
The World Trade Center did not collapse from the planes that were flown into them, they were set up with explosives for demolition. The Pentagon was never even hit by an airplane, it was a cruise missile. United Airlines flight 97 was actually shot down by military jet fighters. The men responsible for the worst terror attacks in United States history and the murder of nearly 3,000 Americans were not terrorists, they were agents of the American government.
According to Time magazine, a Scripps-Howard poll has found that 36% of American adults think it’s possible that the federal government had something to do with the 9/11 terror attacks. That means that over one-third of adults in this country think that a controlled demolition and cruise missile are completely logical explanations for one of the worst days in the nation’s history.
The Internet has been a huge source of these conspiracy theories. The Internet has helped Dylan Avery and Korey Rowe spread their theories in the documentary Loose Change. The movie explores such burning questions as “How did burning jet fuel bring down the WTC when jet fuel doesn’t burn hot enough to melt structural steel?” The fact is that the theorists ask a lot of valid questions and do their homework, just not very well.
The National Institute of Standards and Technology, an independent government-funded research agency, has conducted extensive research into the 9/11 terror attacks and has scientific evidence to dispute almost every claim. According to the NIST, the steel in the WTC didn’t need to melt to cause the building to collapse. The steel was softened by a 1800 degrees Fahrenheit inferno (structural steel melts at 2700 degrees Fahrenheit) to the point where it could no longer hold the floors above the blaze. This is just one example of how an organization of scientists and engineers have disproved the accusations of two twenty-something kids who initially were developing Loose Change as a work of fiction. Sounds like The Blair Witch Project with terrorists.
In his book 9/11: The Big Lie, French author Thierry Meyssan claims that a cruise missile was responsible for the attack on the Pentagon. According to the US State Department, the book has been published in 19 languages and is being translated into four more. The problem with this theory is that the remains of passengers from American Airlines flight 77 were found at the site. Add that to the fact that hundreds of people saw a plane hit the building. Mr. Meyssan also did all of his speculation from Europe and never saw the site or talked to a witness.
So on one hand we have a couple of kids who really wanted to make a fictional film and a French journalist who ignores facts and speculates from thousands of miles away. On the other we have the people we’ve chosen to lead our nation and a group of scientists and engineers. Who seems more qualified?
If you’re one of the 36% percent of Americans who believe the government is involved in this overly elaborate ruse, stop letting other people give you your opinion. Don’t just listen to the conspiracy theorists and for that matter don’t just listen to the government. Listen to the science. Listen to the undeniable logic. If you read everything that’s out there and not just the paranoid ranting the facts become clear as day.
On September 11, 2001 the United States was attacked by foreign aggressors. On September 12, 2001 the United States was attacked by foreign and domestic conspiracy fanatics.
According to Time magazine, a Scripps-Howard poll has found that 36% of American adults think it’s possible that the federal government had something to do with the 9/11 terror attacks. That means that over one-third of adults in this country think that a controlled demolition and cruise missile are completely logical explanations for one of the worst days in the nation’s history.
The Internet has been a huge source of these conspiracy theories. The Internet has helped Dylan Avery and Korey Rowe spread their theories in the documentary Loose Change. The movie explores such burning questions as “How did burning jet fuel bring down the WTC when jet fuel doesn’t burn hot enough to melt structural steel?” The fact is that the theorists ask a lot of valid questions and do their homework, just not very well.
The National Institute of Standards and Technology, an independent government-funded research agency, has conducted extensive research into the 9/11 terror attacks and has scientific evidence to dispute almost every claim. According to the NIST, the steel in the WTC didn’t need to melt to cause the building to collapse. The steel was softened by a 1800 degrees Fahrenheit inferno (structural steel melts at 2700 degrees Fahrenheit) to the point where it could no longer hold the floors above the blaze. This is just one example of how an organization of scientists and engineers have disproved the accusations of two twenty-something kids who initially were developing Loose Change as a work of fiction. Sounds like The Blair Witch Project with terrorists.
In his book 9/11: The Big Lie, French author Thierry Meyssan claims that a cruise missile was responsible for the attack on the Pentagon. According to the US State Department, the book has been published in 19 languages and is being translated into four more. The problem with this theory is that the remains of passengers from American Airlines flight 77 were found at the site. Add that to the fact that hundreds of people saw a plane hit the building. Mr. Meyssan also did all of his speculation from Europe and never saw the site or talked to a witness.
So on one hand we have a couple of kids who really wanted to make a fictional film and a French journalist who ignores facts and speculates from thousands of miles away. On the other we have the people we’ve chosen to lead our nation and a group of scientists and engineers. Who seems more qualified?
If you’re one of the 36% percent of Americans who believe the government is involved in this overly elaborate ruse, stop letting other people give you your opinion. Don’t just listen to the conspiracy theorists and for that matter don’t just listen to the government. Listen to the science. Listen to the undeniable logic. If you read everything that’s out there and not just the paranoid ranting the facts become clear as day.
On September 11, 2001 the United States was attacked by foreign aggressors. On September 12, 2001 the United States was attacked by foreign and domestic conspiracy fanatics.
Monday, January 29, 2007
"So You Call This Your Free Country..."
Imagine being able to take a trip to space. You wouldn't have to go throw the rigors of become an astronaut. A bit of training and then you'd be on your way. Companies like Oracle at making this dream a reality for the ridiculously wealthy. In 2005, Oracle held a contest where an average Joe could win a spot on one of these trips. Brian Emmett wound up winning the $138,000 prize and was ecstatic until he learned that he would have to claim the prize on his taxes. Emmett had to give up his dream of seeing space because he didn't have a spare $25,000 to fork over to the IRS.
A dream crushed by the federal government. It's reminiscent of when Oprah gave away a car to everyone in her audience in 2004. Those poor souls' good fortune left them $7,000 in tax debt. The government seems intent on ruining fun where ever they smell it. And if they can make a profit in the meantime, all the better in their eyes. Tax laws turn Uncle Sam from a symbol of freedom and democracy to a mob boss breaking legs until he gets his cut.
For example, take this bit of ridiculousness. A car company buys parts to get build a car, and they have to pay taxes on those parts. The car is then sold to a customer and that person must now pay taxes on the purchase. In a couple of years the buyer decides that he should really get his wife that minivan she's been nagging him for so he sells the car. Whoever buys the car from him must now pay taxes on it again. The new owner drives the car for a few years and then sells it again and taxes are paid again. The next owner drives the car until it does not work and then sells the car to a junkyard which must pay taxes on it. The car is gradually stripped for parts and each time a part is purchased, the customer must pay sales taxes. The point is that even just one car is taxed so many times that it can make your head spin. With the government sucking money out of us at every turn, how is there a multi-trillion dollar deficient?
Even with the government taxing pretty much everything in existence as many times as they can get away with, they still manage to spend more than they will ever have. If you do not have a throbbing headache right now, or are not outraged by this then you are part of the problem.
A dream crushed by the federal government. It's reminiscent of when Oprah gave away a car to everyone in her audience in 2004. Those poor souls' good fortune left them $7,000 in tax debt. The government seems intent on ruining fun where ever they smell it. And if they can make a profit in the meantime, all the better in their eyes. Tax laws turn Uncle Sam from a symbol of freedom and democracy to a mob boss breaking legs until he gets his cut.
For example, take this bit of ridiculousness. A car company buys parts to get build a car, and they have to pay taxes on those parts. The car is then sold to a customer and that person must now pay taxes on the purchase. In a couple of years the buyer decides that he should really get his wife that minivan she's been nagging him for so he sells the car. Whoever buys the car from him must now pay taxes on it again. The new owner drives the car for a few years and then sells it again and taxes are paid again. The next owner drives the car until it does not work and then sells the car to a junkyard which must pay taxes on it. The car is gradually stripped for parts and each time a part is purchased, the customer must pay sales taxes. The point is that even just one car is taxed so many times that it can make your head spin. With the government sucking money out of us at every turn, how is there a multi-trillion dollar deficient?
Even with the government taxing pretty much everything in existence as many times as they can get away with, they still manage to spend more than they will ever have. If you do not have a throbbing headache right now, or are not outraged by this then you are part of the problem.
Friday, January 19, 2007
"TV is twice as quick"
I've never been a huge fan of reading. The vast majority of reading in my life has been done against my will. This was when I was still a captive of the American public school system. One of the biggest problems in this country today is our lackluster educational system. Teachers who are underpaid lecture to overcrowded classes of students who are completely uninterested. The frustration of this position must take its toll on these people very quickly and what spark they once had for teaching dies in all but the most optimistic and driven souls. Parents refuse to accept that their children may not be model students and administrations rarely side with the teachers. Children skate through the system because of their parents' complaints and futility of trying to teach children who are going get handed a diploma without earning one sets in. As a result, what was once a passion becomes a chore for both the teacher and pupil. Of course this is just one of the many factors straining teachers today and hindering the education of today's youth.
Math, science, reading, social studies and every other subject traditionally taught in schools take dedication and interest if someone is ever to excel. The way these teachers force students to study without sparking an interest makes the entire school experience a draining labor for children. Students are forced to read works that are held in high esteem by scholars but are not of any real interest to the average person. This turns many people off to the experience of reading altogether. They proceed to cringe at the thought of picking up a book and retreat into the sensory stimuli of television and video games. Both of which are very fun and entertaining, but are rarely intellectually stimulating.
This is essentially what happened to me. I hated reading. It was work and lord knows I was getting enough of that from school. Why on Earth would I want to pursue a recreational activity that had been the source of so much anxiety and stress over the years? It was so much easier to just stare at the idiot box while it flickered with images of The Simpsons, MST3K and countless other half-hour delights. That and I had my Playstation, Game Boy, and Nintendo 64 to provide me with countless hours of joy. I also had (and still have) a pretty ridiculous comic book habit. Since my junior year of high school I've been getting about ten comics a week. For a while it was about all of the reading I did. I would read a few books here and there, but it was all very sporadic. Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger was the first and best of these sporadic readings. Don't Eat This Book by Morgan Spurlock was another that I really enjoyed.
It wasn't until just last year that I truly became a reader. I picked up American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. I was intrigued because of the film adaptation featuring Christian Bale and found the book to be engrossing and hilarious. From there I ventured into the James Bond novels of Ian Fleming. I've been a fan of the film franchise since my uncle introduced me to the movies when I was a kid and had always been curious about the books that spawned the series. The series is fun, creative, dark and very different from the movies, but in a very good way. Stories about the Cold War and Nazis are highlighted by a very human Bond who is no where near as immortal as his film counterpart.
Recently I let my comic book addiction dictated what I would read and picked up American Gods. I had read Neil Gaiman's work in Marvel 1602, The Eternals, and of course Sandman. Gaiman is one of the very best comic book writers of all time. His peers including the likes Frank Miller and Alan Moore, authors of such prolific works as The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen respectively. Stories that pull at your emotions, play with your mind, and stay with you long after you finish reading.
American Gods is the story of Shadow. A man who is released from prison to find the life he had known ripped to shreds. He then finds himself in a world that exists within our own. Where a war was brewing between the forgotten gods of mankind and the new gods of the electronic age. Shadow is a character that is very easy to empathize with, and through clever storytelling, Gaiman manages to manipulate the reader's opinions of the story and characters in such a way that it seems as if you are feeling exactly what Shadow is feeling at any given time. This book pulls you in. I was stuck in this novel for all of two weeks. A nearly 600 page novel had me so into its story that I finished it in two weeks. Avid readers may laugh at this, but for someone who has never really had any desire to read anything, its impressive. Television? Video games? Paled in comparison. If I had spare time my face was firmly planted within those pages, eagerly awaiting the next plot twist. Humor, terror, sex, intrigue, romance, this book has everything. I cannot even begin to choose a genre for this book. It's kept in the sci-fi/fantasy section at Borders, but it's so much more than that. Truly great stories reflect life. Life is not a horror story, or a comedy, or a romance, or an action-thriller, it is all of these things balanced in different ways for different people. American Gods balances them all perfectly and left me hungry for more.
Math, science, reading, social studies and every other subject traditionally taught in schools take dedication and interest if someone is ever to excel. The way these teachers force students to study without sparking an interest makes the entire school experience a draining labor for children. Students are forced to read works that are held in high esteem by scholars but are not of any real interest to the average person. This turns many people off to the experience of reading altogether. They proceed to cringe at the thought of picking up a book and retreat into the sensory stimuli of television and video games. Both of which are very fun and entertaining, but are rarely intellectually stimulating.
This is essentially what happened to me. I hated reading. It was work and lord knows I was getting enough of that from school. Why on Earth would I want to pursue a recreational activity that had been the source of so much anxiety and stress over the years? It was so much easier to just stare at the idiot box while it flickered with images of The Simpsons, MST3K and countless other half-hour delights. That and I had my Playstation, Game Boy, and Nintendo 64 to provide me with countless hours of joy. I also had (and still have) a pretty ridiculous comic book habit. Since my junior year of high school I've been getting about ten comics a week. For a while it was about all of the reading I did. I would read a few books here and there, but it was all very sporadic. Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger was the first and best of these sporadic readings. Don't Eat This Book by Morgan Spurlock was another that I really enjoyed.
It wasn't until just last year that I truly became a reader. I picked up American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. I was intrigued because of the film adaptation featuring Christian Bale and found the book to be engrossing and hilarious. From there I ventured into the James Bond novels of Ian Fleming. I've been a fan of the film franchise since my uncle introduced me to the movies when I was a kid and had always been curious about the books that spawned the series. The series is fun, creative, dark and very different from the movies, but in a very good way. Stories about the Cold War and Nazis are highlighted by a very human Bond who is no where near as immortal as his film counterpart.
Recently I let my comic book addiction dictated what I would read and picked up American Gods. I had read Neil Gaiman's work in Marvel 1602, The Eternals, and of course Sandman. Gaiman is one of the very best comic book writers of all time. His peers including the likes Frank Miller and Alan Moore, authors of such prolific works as The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen respectively. Stories that pull at your emotions, play with your mind, and stay with you long after you finish reading.
American Gods is the story of Shadow. A man who is released from prison to find the life he had known ripped to shreds. He then finds himself in a world that exists within our own. Where a war was brewing between the forgotten gods of mankind and the new gods of the electronic age. Shadow is a character that is very easy to empathize with, and through clever storytelling, Gaiman manages to manipulate the reader's opinions of the story and characters in such a way that it seems as if you are feeling exactly what Shadow is feeling at any given time. This book pulls you in. I was stuck in this novel for all of two weeks. A nearly 600 page novel had me so into its story that I finished it in two weeks. Avid readers may laugh at this, but for someone who has never really had any desire to read anything, its impressive. Television? Video games? Paled in comparison. If I had spare time my face was firmly planted within those pages, eagerly awaiting the next plot twist. Humor, terror, sex, intrigue, romance, this book has everything. I cannot even begin to choose a genre for this book. It's kept in the sci-fi/fantasy section at Borders, but it's so much more than that. Truly great stories reflect life. Life is not a horror story, or a comedy, or a romance, or an action-thriller, it is all of these things balanced in different ways for different people. American Gods balances them all perfectly and left me hungry for more.
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