Hipster Union

I just finished reading God Is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens.  No matter what he says, Mr. Hitchens is, to a certain extent, just as irrational as one who believes in a god.  After all, the existence of a god, being based in faith, is unprovable.  The same applies to the non-existence of god.  There is a fundamental difference between “I don’t believe in god” (agnosticism) and “I believe in no god” (atheism).  The difference is that the latter involves active belief in the nonexistence of god, which is, in and of itself, a belief in god.Nevertheless, he raises some good points and the book is worth a reading.  Below is the Christopher Hitchens-brand “atheism” list of Why Bad Things Happen To Good People (i.e. You): (more…)

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I’m watching my Sunday morning news programmes which naturally are all discussing the 2008 Presidential election. And the best political quip (at least in terms of funniness) comes from Mayor Bloomberg, who does not wear a sash. When asked whether he will announce his candidacy for President, he responded with this brutally honest, almost Allenesque response:

How likely is a 5′7″Jew from New York billionaire who’s divorced and running as an independent to become president of the United States?

Well, I’m pulling for Michael Bloomberg. He’s pragmatic. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have run on the GOP ticket in 2002. Not only that, he’s pro-choice, pro-gun control, and anti-Iraq War. His position on congestion pricing shows he’s willing to do something about the environment even if it means pissing off voters.But most importantly, if he can be elected President, he will give hope to thousands of “short, stocky, slow-witted, bald men.” (more…)

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I guess nothing happened this weekend because the New York Times had an article about why Miss USA was booed at the Miss Universe pageant. Then again, looking at her (she’s second from right - neatly labeled “USA”), I’d probably boo her too. Her head is the same size as her waist. She’s a lollipop with boobs.  Uh-oh.  Now I made her cry.  It’s okay, honey. They weren’t saying “boo”; They were saying “Boo-urns.”

Miss Venezuela looks pretty hot. Mmmm…. Communist hotness. Who am I kidding?! A good stiff breeze would probably knock all five of them down. Mmmm…. beauty pageant contestant dogpile.  The New York Times correctly notes that Miss USA does not hold any official position in the government.

“She has no authority to declare war. She does not build border walls or round up undocumented immigrants. Those things are left to others, none of whom wear a sash.”

What?! Hold the phone. If I was President, I’d totally wear a sash.  Or a crown.  Or those fancy shoulder necklaces like Darth Vader Mustafa the Lion James Earl Jones wore in Coming to America.  Even if I was only mayor, I would still walk around all the freakin’ time with a sash that said the name of the office I held. Just like Mayor “Diamond” Joe Quimby or Mayor “Hypercholestolemia” McCheese.

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The Woman and I saw “28 Weeks Later” this weekend. What lesson can we learn from this movie? Quarantine procedures exist for your protection. Seriously, that is the moral of the story.

The Infection did not spread outside of Britain in the first movie, what with England being an island. Turns out that the quarantine was fiercely enforced to make sure that no Infected made it to the Continent. The US military has set up base in London and, as the Infection has subsided, refugees are slowly being allowed into a Green Zone set up. Of course, everything goes to pot.

The cast is fine, although two great actors are utterly wasted.   Robert Carlisle (”Begbie” from “Trainspotting”) plays the father of the first two children to be let back into London. He had a lapse of courage and escapes a horde of Infected instead of jumping into the fray to try to save his wife, which would mean certain death for the both of them. For some reason, Begbie gets horror-movie comeuppance for what is (at least to me) an acceptable human reaction in a time of great crisis. He panics, very understandably, and is traumatized by the event.

As it turns out, his wife has a natural immunity to the virus, making her a carrier. She’s a Typhoid Mary for the 21st Century. Ultimately, an outbreak ensues, the US Army screws up royally, and, at the end, civilization collapses, setting up a third movie which will undoubtedly be called “28 Months Later” which will depict a worldwide outbreak two years in.

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So I find myself back at the New York Public Library. If I come here again tomorrow, I’ll check out the Russia exhibit they have. I might make a museum day tomorrow. The interview went fine. It looks like I’ll be gainfully employed on Monday, making more money than before, hopefully with less pressure. In the meantime, I’ve got odds ‘n’ ends to finish around the house such as tacking down the speaker wire.

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For those of you who haven’t heard, I didn’t make it past my probationary period. For the first time in my life, I’ve been let go. It wasn’t overly traumatic. Nevertheless, I could have lived without the trauma. So now I’m registering with temp agencies to do document review which leaves me with a whole helluva lot of time on my hands.

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