I'm looking at the teevee commercials for the new iTunes Motorola phone on Cingular and I'm wondering: am I the only person left on the planet who values quiet, contemplative walks out amongst my fellow man? With the sounds of the street, or pleasant happenstance interactions with real people? Surely, there are others, right? Who'd rather hear... oh, say, a bus bearing down on them than the latest Lifehouse angst-paen?
Honestly, even the idea of a cell-phone is getting on my nerves these days. I think they exist to ride in your pocket. Put 'em away people. Your pathetic little lives were never meant to be broadcast, let alone screamed into my ear as I quietly shop for beading supplies with my wife at Michael's arts and crafts. I'm gonna start confiscating shit and smashin' em up.
On a side note, I've been travelling a lot more lately, and my patience for asshat airport-loafers is completely gone. STAND RIGHT, WALK LEFT fools! I've taken to (loudly) proclaiming 'Passing on the left!' about 3 seconds before I bowl them over. It's fun to watch 'em scramble.
I've spent a fair amount of time at DIA lately, but I've yet to notice any of this weird shit. Next time I travel there, I'll have to take a more careful look:
An African woman in colorful native garb; a Native American woman who's heritage the airport's art supposedly celebrates; a blonde girl with cupid bow lips, a Star of David on her chest and a bible in her hands. Each lay dead in open coffins for your viewing pleasure. A burning city, children sleeping on piles of bricks, a line of mourning women in rags with dead babies, limp in their arms. A huge, looming military figure in a gas mask brandishes a sword and machine gun. Part of an actual note written by a child interred in a Nazi death camp. Strange words embedded in the floor with no explanation about what they mean. Welcome to Denver International Airport!
Oh gawd this cracks me up. It's a dog defending a piece of meat against a Sony AIBO robot dog (with comical little tufts of hair stuck all over it.) Listen for the warning growls.. and the woman's scream at the end. It's timeless. (In fact, if you substitute a Frosty Paws treat for the cut of meat, and an actual small dog for the AIBO, we played out a very similar scenario with our two brats a couple weeks back.
I had lunch today with Mark Kusek at an old favorite, Restaurant Japan. Right down the street, at the Kenny & Henderson intersection, they were gutting a White Castle. You just don't see this every day, so I figured I'd document it. And given the digestive joyrides that the 'castle has taken me on through the years? Don't think I'm not smiling to see this once-proud lady with her back broken...