Nevada to the Pig

Dear Nevada Smith's,

Sorry it has taken me so long to write this, but I've had a bit of an off week. But anyway, better late than never as some like to say. So, here we go. Remember last Sunday when I stopped in to have a couple of brews with my friends? Well, whether you do or not, I'd like to voice my disapproval and give you a big ol' "fuck you" for throwing me out just because I had a skateboard with me. Was I riding it or swinging it around or even talking about its existence? No to all of the above. It was just leaning against the wall, out of the way. It wasn't dangerous to anyone or anything. This is extra sad as we've had such a long history together. Since I first visited you back in June of 1996 you have been filled with annoying people, but at least you were cool to me personally. But now you've wrecked it. WRECKED IT! I'm sure you'll survive without me, but I thought you should know what happened. Jerks. You suck.

Sincerely,
WJR

PS We went a few blocks away to the more accepting, Blind Pig Bar and Grill. They didn't mind the skateboard or the fact that we liked exchanging money for beer.

Bring On the Heat

I know it's not even the end of April yet, and I know the weather certainly hasn't been hinting at anything other than winter lasting forever, but today I got something that makes me feel a little confident that summer is just around the corner. Strawberries. Feast your eyes on this fat motherfucker and tell me that juicy, red deliciousness doesn't shout "Warm days ahead!"



And it was indeed delicious.

The Cleve

So, this past weekend I went to Cleveland, Ohio. I got to visit with some old friends and made some new ones. Sure the new ones were mostly drunken lunatics, but would I want to meet anyone who's not?

It was my first time in Cleveland. Actually, it was my first time in Ohio. Due to the last second nature of the trip, I got there via automobile instead of by plane. Just in case you are thinking that is a good idea, I could tell you otherwise. While it's not the worst thing in the world, it's certainly not the most fun either. Construction, truckers clogging up both lanes, rain, snow, wind, zero scenery to look at ... it's crappy. Co-worker, Jeff (aka Y.B.) made the trip with me in a rented Hyundai Sonata. I didn't think it was too awesome on first glance, but it was remarkably smooth drivin' and quick. When traffic wasn't messing up our business we hovered around 80mph or above, and the Sonata complained not. Nor did the police. We survived 1,018 miles of driving over a span of about 16 hours (roundtrip, stops included) on a steady diet of sunflower seeds, water, beef jerky, Gatorade, DQ Blizzards and CDs galore (including Huey Lewis and the News -- can someone tell me how they are not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?).

So anyway, despite all that, it turns out that Cleveland was pretty fun. I'm not sure I'm prepared to move there, but as far as a town with some good people, drinkin' options and entertainment, it ain't half bad. We hit an Indians game, had some beers, stole some pizza, yelled at smokers, did a little tour of the town, ate some brunch, went for a jog, ate some dinner, went to a birthday party, drank many drinks, brawled with one of my hosts (the female one), went on a joyride to Denny's and slept very little.

An exciting sidenote, is that I have now been in another state in our great land. That puts me to being in 50% of our great nation (does not include stopping in airports), and spending the night in 39%. I have a ways to go, but I have plenty of time.

Been in 26 states (50%):

create your own visited states map

Slept in 20 states (39%):

create your own visited states map

Woooo! Exciting stuff!

Here are some photos that I think are worthy of showing (hopefully the subjects in them won't mind):

Myself and Kevin doing God knows what. Looking tough. Or maybe just lost. I don't know.

When I was younger, someone making this mistake might get written/drawn on with a Sharpie. Now that we are older, wiser and more mature, they just get fingers of disapproval. Here Alberto gets the abuse.


Here's me with Meg C., 50% of the birthday team that was our motivation for our trip to begin with. I think we may have had a bit to drink at this point in the night. Oooh, yes. I actually have a shot in hand at that very moment. Kudos to me.


Here my trusty roadtrip sidekick/co-pilot, Y.B. [right] demonstrates how we in Jersey City react when B.C. [left] sends us requests/work/anything from Cleveland.

That's all I guess, until my next journey to the state that's Hi in the middle and round on both ends: O-Hi-O ... get it? That never gets old.

Peeped

Last night I went to see Peeping Tom at Irving Plaza. Fucking good.

Before I get to the goodness, a brief side note. According to a sign there, that was the last show at Irving Plaza as the name is changing to The Fillmore. Why? I don't know. Change in ownership I'm guessing, but even so Irving Plaza seemed good to me. Irving Plaza on Irving Place ... it seems like that all makes things easy to recognize and easy to find, but that's just me.

So, in any case, the show was good. Well, I said fucking good in the first line so I guess I should stick with that. The show was fucking good. Mike Patton (although possibly deranged) is a musical and entertainment genius so off to a good start. Along with Patton was Dan the Automator making Synthesizer noise/scratching, a keyboard guy, the Dub Trio (a drummer, bass player & guitar player), a back-up singer, Imani Coppola who added some violin when not singing, and another back-up singer/beatboxer, Butterscotch.

As an added bonus, Jennifer Charles of Elysian Fields and Lovage fame (?) came to (sort of) help out on a tune and Rahzel of The Roots fame came on encore style, to do a little beatboxing and help out on a cover of Bobby Womack's "Across 110th Street." Pretty sweet.

I'll also mention that Patton was wearing a red, button down shirt with a bulletproof vest over it. I guess he was going with the gangsta motif. Anyway, that's all the recap I'm gonna do.

I will also mention this too ... now I'm not one to often get all that excited about famous folk, and even less often do I get a stage or celebrity crushes going, but I think I now have one. It's Butterscotch. The beatboxing was awesome, she sings, she plays instruments, she can dribble a basketball better than me (that might not be too impressive actually), oh and did I mention the cuteness? No? Well, she's cute too. I think big, fat guy when I think beatbox, but not in this case.

There. I said it and it feels good to get it off my chest.

Anywho, here is a pretty cool clip of her on Tom Green Live. Sit through the whole thing. It's worth it:

-fin-

Sneaking Under The Midnight Cutoff

Dear Meg C.,

Happy Birthday, yo!

Sincerely,
Me

Calendar Confusion

Is it just me, or is it odd they are releasing the remake of Halloween on August 31? That's two months before the actual Halloween just in case you couldn't piece that together. It will probably be out of the theaters by the time October even hits. I think that might be beyond just odd. It might actually be dumb. But then again, I'm not a Hollywood bigshot.

If you desire, you can peep the trailer here. I don't know if it will be good, but I think it is safe to say that it will be bloody.

Geographical Genius

So I'm at the post office in good ol' Jersey City on Thursday. I overhear a conversation between a guy in line who has a package going to Canada and the woman behind the counter:

USPS lady: You want airmail?
Guy: Sure. I guess.
USPS lady: OK, that will be seven to ten days.
Guy: OK. How long for the non-airmail option?
USPS lady: Airmail is seven to ten days, the other option is by boat which will take fourteen to twenty days.
Guy: By boat?
USPS lady: Yup.
Guy: By boat?
USPS lady: Yes.
Guy: Um ... Oh ... Kay. Um, I guess I'll go with the airmail.

Boat to Canada? I'm not sure which part of Canada it was going to, but it's odd they wouldn't just drive it or maybe put it on a train. Maybe they go via Erie Canal? Or maybe from Jersey, down through the Panama Canal and back up to Canada? Who's to say? I guess the USPS knows best though.

That Looks Natural

When I was up at the 'rents house a couple of days ago I found a bag of photos in my closet. I haven't looked through all of them yet, but from the looks of things most seem to be from my college years. And that means some real historical gems. Lucky readers you are!

Instead of being patient, looking through them and finding an order or a theme I'm just going to get one from the top of the bag into the blogging mix ASAP.

This is another in the "Man you had some stupid awesome hair!" category. I had had some dumb haircuts before this, but this is my first venture into dye ... well, that is if you ignore the time I soaked my hair in cranberry juice (which seemed to attract a lot of winged insects and not really make my hair reddish) or the time I dunked my head in a bucket of undiluted swimming pool chlorine (which burned my scalp and made my hair feel a bit like straw). So, yeah. Let's just say it's my first hair dye venture. This was my sophomore year of college, so it was 1992 or 1993, making me 19 or 20. My friend Marge helped me with this venture as she is always up for anything that she can laugh at.

Along with the color, there seemed to be a strange part going on. Just to set the record straight, I think this part was created from having it in some sort of weird position, up in a towel while drying. I didn't generally walk around with my hair parted like this:


Either way, it was pretty obnoxious. Mission accomplished.

Stay tuned for the evolution of WJR's hair. Eventually more photos will surface. Guaranteed.

Back To The Grind ... A Slightly Odd Grind

So, Friday was supposed to be my last day at work, but I was asked to stay on for a little while. I had a couple of days off, and went upstate to visit with the 'rents but was back to the grind today. When I walked into work this morning I was the only person here. Really, the only person. So it's just me and my computer and the apple I brought. A little spooky coming in and seeing nobody in an area that in normal times, over the course of the day had forty somethin' people running around, screaming, throwing papers and slamming phones. ... it was actually so quiet today that I could hear water running down from the roof through some sort of drainage pipe in the wall behind me. At least I hope there is a pipe back there. My aloneness ended after an hour and a half or so, but even then it was only a five person posse. Anyway, crisis averted, other than a lot of forest destroyed to fulfil my need of tissues to mop up my tears.

I did get to have some "me time" before anyone got there which involved staring into space and listening to the new Machine Head album. Only eight tracks, although some were long, so we'll let it slide. It's actually pretty good. Some are saying their best ever. I'm not sure if I agree with all that. The music may be more intricate, but intricacy isn't what necessarily brings joy to my ears.

Anyway, work is OK in this new format. Fewer people, fewer phones, less interaction with the outside world all pluses. I thought going back after already having my mind set on being an unemployed slob would be bad, but it's not all that horrible. At least after one day it's not. We'll see if that lasts.

What a disjointed mess that post was!

Still Workin' It Out

So, as I mentioned before, March 30 (today) was my last day at work. Exciting, no? Well, actually no. There was a last minute change of plans. I'm back working again. Just keeping you people on your toes, yo!

Due to some staffing issues in other offices, good ol' work was looking for some people to help out for awhile longer. This was brought up on Thursday which, if you are familiar with calendars you may be able to figure out was just one day before the end. It was at like 3pm the day before the end. Not the best prior planning in the world.

Anyway, some of the helping is for our Dallas office and our San Francisco office. At first I thought this helping out was going to involve going for a little venture to SF, but as it turns out I will just be helping from Jersey City. Not quite as fun or exciting. But nevertheless, I'm still employed. Until the end of May unless I find something new in the meantime or I freak out and quit.

So, that's really all I need to say about that. Just thought I would let you know that I'm not a leech on the neck of society yet.

Yet.

Celebrate With Liver Damage and Murdered Brain Cells

So last night was our last hurrah for work. One more night of boozing before we all go our separate ways. It was enough of a hurrah that my original plan of going out Thursday and Friday was pretty much crapped on. Those of us who worked in the morning were a little too spent to do a second round at 1pm on Friday. Although, I'm sure if we got a beer in hand we would have been off to the races again, the thought of that first one just crushed our motivation. Let's review the evening and the day after went, shall we? It went something like this ...

Work, class, bar, drinking, coloring, drinking, yelling, drinking, hugs, dismantling a trophy, laughing, drinking, posing for photos, drinking, cab ride, bed.

The drinking began around 9pm. The bed was hit at 4am. My alarm goes off at 5:15am. You can probably see how this day was not one of my best.

My alarm was going off forever apparently. Eventually my wife gets up, and wakes me up. I'm late as hell and definitely still drunk. No doubt about it. I take a shower (which mostly involved staring at the floor of the tub with the water falling on me and not making me feel better in the slightest).

After getting dressed, I grab my skateboard and head for the door. I get this from my wife:

You might want to wear some sunglasses today, champ.
Why?
Have you seen yourself?

Off I went sans sunglasses.

I get to work about 50 minutes late. Late, but I still managed to beat a good number of my co-workers ('cause I'm fucking great!)

My lateness prompts some understanding giggles from those who are there. And me too.

A co-worker who was not out with us comes in awhile later. She says:

You look like you had a late night.

I guess I really am looking shitty.

Just to confirm, a few hours later Kevin comes in and as he flies by on the way to his seat spits:

Did WJR even sleep?

Jesus. I'm a mess rockstar.

In a related note to the end of an employment era, my friend Todd throws a little zinger my way. If nothing else, it sounds like some sort of challenge to prove that we still have it. Who's down with a little reputation redemption?

Todd: how's the head
me: Not as bad as it should be. My stomach isn't doing so hot though.
And my brain isn't really working.
Todd: nothing worse than an irritated stomach
was it ever?
what's your plan for the afternoon
me: Nothing planned.
Todd: no 1:00pm drunk fest?
me: I don't think so. Only the morning people are coming in and I don't think anyone is really too excited about booze right now.
Maybe just some couch time instead.
Rest up for tomorrow.
Todd: now i know why they are closing that place down... that PRN crew just ain't what it use to be.

Jump Around

I've had some pretty dumb hair in my 33+ years on this earth. Some might say I still do. In any case, I stumbled across this old photo yesterday and could only wonder what the fuck was possibly going on here (if you click on the photo you can get a closer view of the disaster):
I wasn't even sure if that was my hair until I was able to lighten up the image. I thought maybe a plant was behind me. Nope, it's my hair.

Beyond the hair, what the hell was I doing other than getting really excited about finger guns? Finger guns and jumping in the air with them locked and loaded. Although it seems to have my friend Jay rather frozen with fear, so maybe they looked realistic at the time.

I have no recollection of this particular party or this photo, but I'm presuming it was around this point that things started to get out of control. That poor, poor house. If my parents only knew half of what went on there.

At Least I'll Look Good

Being forever an optimist (yeah right) I'm anticipating a new job (or at least some interviews) so I went out today and bought three suits, three shirts and three ties. Credit card says "thank you" and bank account says "ouch."

Now I better get a fucking job that requires some gettin' fancy or you may find me lookin' fancy for no reason at all. Out at bars, jogging, going to concerts, etc. Or I may very well wind up the best dressed homeless guy you've ever seen, sleeping on a bench in the East River Park.

We'll see.

Head First

I'm not sure if this is a trait that I should be proud of or embarrassed of or at least grown out of, but yesterday I was e-mailing with a friend of mine who now lives in Seattle and I asked her how she was liking it and this is what I get:

I love Seattle. You should come visit! Lots of great dive bars. :)

"Lots of great dive bars." Jesus. Is that what lures me to visit a city? Yes. I guess it actually is.

I'm so easy to please and so fucking predictable. Nobody sells a place to me with "Lots of great clubs" or "Lots of fine eateries" or "Lots of museums." She hit the nail on the head with what entices me -- dive bars. That's what I like to judge places on. Sad or perfectly sensible? I'm not really sure.

I Think We're Beautiful

I love the intro to this video. "You and me in a world that stinks." Classic:

Totally Lacking

I don't really have much to offer, but I've had some complaints about my slacking (some even from me). So in an attempt to please, I guess I'll share the big news on my end which is that I only have one more week or work left. As I mentioned briefly a couple of times, my office is getting packed up and moving. I've opted to not move, so as of right now, I've got five days of work left and then it's into the unfamiliar world of unemployment. Five days!! Slightly scary. Slightly exciting. Either way, the countdown is on.

That said, the tail end of next week has all the ingredients for a good ol' fashioned bender. And who doesn't like that? There are plans for boozing Thursday night (which should feel real nice on my final day of getting up at 5:15am) and there is also talk of a part II on Friday. I have a bachelor party on Saturday and then Sunday (or maybe Monday depending on my liver's status) I'm heading upstate to hang with my 'rents as it is my father's big 75th birthday. I don't know if that part is really part of the bender, but you never know. Maybe my father will be all about kegstands, strippers and robbing banks on his 75th. We'll have to wait and see.

Anyway, that's really all. Hopefully these little calendar bookings will turn into a legitimate post or better yet, maybe I'll have something before then.

Happy weekend, everybody.

McLetdown

One St. Patrick's Day ritual I used to like to enjoy, even before I introduced boozing into my ritualistic was, was the McDonald's Shamrock Shake. A frozen treat with a mysterious green color that has the funky taste of mint and mulched up leprechauns. So festive!

I used to get one every year around this time just for the sake of tradition. I don't think I really even like them to be honest. At some point (and I wish I could remember who turned me on to this) someone taught me a delicious, little trick of mixing a standard chocolate shake with the Shamrock, making a minty, chocolatey mashup. Sometimes the McDonald's server wasn't really down with the mixing, but they were easily swayed. Delicious!

Anyway, at some point in college I went to get a Shamrock Shake from my local Mickey D's and they didn't have any. I went to another. They didn't have any. Worst. St. Patrick's. Ever. I went home, busted out the phone book and started calling McDonald's one by one. Eventually I found one but it required quite a drive. After that year, my ambition wavered a bit, and when I couldn't find a shake at my local option I'd give up.

Well, this year I was craving to get back on the tradition wagon. I figured with all the McDonald's scattered in NYC I should be fine. I checked out a couple with no reward. Then I see this article telling how they just don't exist in the New York Metropolitan area. Bullshit.

Despite this article, I decided to take a chance with the McDonald's on Grove Street in Jersey City. I called ahead since the weather was crappy and it is a decent walk to get there.

Me: Hi. Do you have Shamrock Shakes.
McD's: Yes.
Me: Great.

I'm living large!

I get my jacket on and walk out there. The exchange in person was a little different than it was over the phone.

Me: Could I have a Shamrock Shake?
McD's lady: [Blank stare]
Me: Do you have Shamrock Shakes?
McD's lady: We have shakes.
Me: Yeah, I know that, but do you have Shamrock Shakes?
McD's lady: [Confused look]
Me: They're for St. Patrick's Day? They are green? They taste like mint?
McD's lady: We have banana shakes.
Me: What? Banana? No. That's not right.
McD's lady: We have vanilla, chocolate, strawberry and banana.
Me: Thanks anyway.

Fuckin' A that's annoying! What is the problem!? Get some mint up in this town!

Help Us, Al Gore!

Is it my imagination, or was I outside two days ago wearing jeans and a T-shirt?

68 degrees and sun on Wednesday to 28 degrees and snow on Friday? Seems like a bit much.

Always An Idiot

So, as stated a few posts ago, things have been a little hectic 'round here as of late. Mostly in my head, but I'll give you the rundown of frenzy. It will probably bore you, but that's tough shit.

A few months ago a friend of mine mentioned going on his annual trip to Whistler, British Columbia. The previous year I had been invited, but couldn't go for whatever reason. This year I didn't plan on going either as I was soon to be unemployed and I was also taking a class at NYU. On Saturday, February 24th, in anticipation of some good stories I text my friend to ask if he had been yet.

He texts back: Next week. Getting there on 03/03.
I say: Shit. I should have invited myself. I could use a break from work before it is all over.
He says: Do it.

I think, hmmm, that would be nice, but I'm not convinced I should do it.

I think. I discuss with the wife. I think some more.

I can't get there on Saturday, as they are, because I have already committed to the Vertical Challenge upstate, but I decide I could, at least in theory go up after that if I want to torture myself -- trip upstate, 24 hours straight of snowboarding, back to NYC, sleep, wake up get on plane. Skip work, skip class, run myself ragged ... walking that fine line between brilliance and insanity. Yes!

I then speak with my friend the following day. He confirms that it is cool with the rest of the crew going and even though it is last minute I should check out flights.

That night I get online. I find a flight for a little over $400. I likes.

I do a little more thinking overnight. I sleep on it as they say.

I wake up Monday with a decision to do this thing. I get to work and go to book it. The price of the flight has gone up. A lot. I won't be deterred as I now have vacation on the mind. I find another flight. This one's not direct, but whatever. I'm on a fucking mission. I book my flight -- Monday morning, NYC to Dallas to Vancouver and then the return is Vancouver to Seattle to NYC. Easy fo sheezy. So, I'm thinking all is cool, feeling that happy, "I'm goin' away" feeling.

That night I figure I should dig out some of my shit that is mandatory for this trip. My snowboarding shit, my camera, my passport, my flight information, etc. After some searching I eventually find my passport. I throw it on the table. Then I happen to browse through it, checking out my various stamps from here and there for a little reminiscing and then, the horror! My passport expires on Tuesday -- one day after my arrival in Canada. That's not good. I panic.

I get online. A passport is definitely needed. Fuck.

I start trying to figure out how to get me a passport. Fast. Use someone else's? Alter mine? Walk across the border somewhere in Montana? I've seen Fahrenheit 9/11. I know there is only like one guy that patrols the whole middle of nowhere section of the border. Fuck.

After about a million calls to the passport people. Well, the automated passport people anyway. I get nowhere. I give up that night and decide to call in the morning. (That phone system sucks balls. I'm not even going to get into it, but believe me. It's the worst.)

Early Tuesday morning I finally reach a human. There is an office in NYC that can make a passport on the spot. When's the next time I can get in? March 14. Four days after I return. That's not going to work. There's no talking my way in, no walkup-squeeze-you-in service, no nothin'. I decide I should try the local post office to see if they can do anything.

I get myself a photo, fill out all the paperwork and go to the post office right when the passport window opens on Wednesday on a break from work to see if they knew of any way out of my predicament. The woman at the Jersey City USPS was surprisingly nice. And helpful, or at least understanding. She couldn't really do anything for me, but suggested I try the office in Philly. Good thinking, lady! I tried to get an appointment at the Philly office that does the on the spot passport renewals, figuring if I could get in I would bus down, get my passport and be golden. No luck there either. The earliest day I could get there was March 12. Damn all these last second A-holes!

At this point I decide this passport thing is a loss. Even though I have my photos and my application filled out, I'm not getting myself a new passport in time for this trip.

I do a little more research and find that getting into Canada shouldn't be a problem, but getting back will be (thanks U.S.A.!). I actually called USAirlines to see what they had to say. It went like this:

USAir lady: [Answering formalities]
Me: "Hi. I'm going to be flying with you on Monday to Canada and then I'll be returning the following Sunday. My passport expires on Tuesday. You think that will be an issue?"
USAir lady: "Well you do need a valid passport to return to the U.S."
Me: "Right, but you don't getting into Canada will be a problem?"
USAir lady: "I don't think so."
Me: "And coming back? What happens without a passport? I'm not going to get thrown in prison am I?"
USAir lady: "No ... I don't think you'll wind up in jail. I just think you'll be delayed."
Me: "Well, if there is no jail involved what's to worry about really? I think I should be fine. Thanks."

Although being delayed doesn't sound horrible, I'm not that interested in sitting in the Vancouver airport with nothing to entertain me so I do a little more research. I find that the passport rule only applies to flying. For some reason you can still get across the border with a birth certificate and photo ID if you drive, walk or boat. I guess terrorists only travel by plane?

I get on the horn again and call Orbitz (just for the record it was a very pleasant experience). After some minor financial adjustments I alter my trip. Now it's NYC to Phoenix to Vancouver and on the return it's just Seattle to NYC. And to get to Seattle I find me a bus. Right from the Vancouver airport to the Seattle airport. Thank you, loophole.

I know that was long. And boring. And unnecessary, but you could have skimmed or skipped it or whatever. This is my shit and I'll babble however I like.

So, the trip up was easy (and might I remind you that a previous trip to Canada did not go smoothly at all). The gal at the Canadian border just asked me some basic questions and I was in. Suckers!

Then it was bus up to Whistler. The bus was pleasant. Great scenery outside, a movie inside, and a free Arson sticker which I put on my board. Whistler itself was fucking awesome. Great snow, breathtaking (really, it made me slightly weak feeling) views, Beirut, some stinky BC weed, cold beer (served in "jugs" not pitchers), bacon, jacuzzi, grilling, many laughs and lots of curling on TV. Almost heaven. There are some photos floating around if you care (check out the Flickr thing in the right column).

On the way home, it was pretty smooth sailing too. Big, dumb stretch SUV (or Stretchcalade as we like to call it) down to Vancouver, bus to Seattle and then on home. Once again, no hassle at the border. The border guy didn't say shit about my expired passport. I had my birth certificate at the ready but didn't even need it. Figures. I'm sure if I flew I would have gotten the pinch. But whatever. Mission accomplished.

So, take a deep breath. You made it through the longest post I have ever done or probably will ever do. And all for a really shitty story. If I happen to go again next year I'll be prepared and eliminate the drama and only share meaningful events. Promise.

Look in the Mirror

The other day I was reading about how Sheryl Crow dislikes American Idol. Here's a quote from an interview with Ladies Home Journal (just for the record, I wasn't reading Ladies Home Journal, the quote was in an excerpt in the newspaper): "Let's face it, it undermines art in every way and promotes commercialism. I am sad people love it so."

Really Sheryl? Commercialism like your Revlon commercial or the Subaru commercial that was using "Everyday Is A Winding Road" or your fucking GAP commercial? Or maybe the song you did for the movie Cars or the song you did for Tomorrow Never Dies or your appearances on "The Today Show" or "The Late Show" or any of the other commercial as hell appearances you have made? And those are just the ones I can remember. I can only imagine how many things you have done that have "undermined art" if I actually did some research.

Get over yourself, hypocritical clown.