Steve Erenberg collects stuff.
“Oddball & scary scientific stuff, globes, industrial masks and helmets, motors, contraptions, electrostatic devices, salesmen’s samples, anatomical models, x-ray tubes and early radio equipment.”
I’d love to see where he lives. Erenberg is a creative director at a NY advertising agency but was trained as an architect. He designed the five-story globe in front of Trump Tower.
“Bed and breakfasts are “honey, let’s go away” punishment detention camps for men who owe their extremely furious wives some stab at romance every few years. It’s a way station for dead marriages trying to get it up one last time before that long deep dive into marriage counseling.” — Halley Suitt
“One bleak day a hoodlum from Anaheim showed up at one of our Christian commune houses dressed in bib overalls and leathers, with a nine millimeter Baretta tucked in his back pocket. He had not bathed in six months and had literally slept in gutters while living as a fugitive from the law. He had not brushed his teeth in two years and, with his neo-barbarian hairstyle, he was a sight to behold. His name was Steve Mays and he was alienated from everybody- from his parents, who had tossed him out of their house years before, to the tough group of outlaw bikers he had been living with. He had been wanted by the FBI for attempted murder and draft dodging. There was also a contract out on his life.”
Merlin thinks he uses “ass” a lot:
1. metric assload (n.) – a lot
2. asshat (n.) – willfully ignorant person
3. assy (adj.) – unacceptably low-quality
4. big-ass (adj.) – large
5. asstacular (adj.) – really bad
According to my Blogger Profile, I’ve written 72,770 words since I started this journal in August, 2001.
As a general rule, you couldn’t get me to a baby shower at gun-point. But I’m thinking Helen’s (at the Kennett’s Jones Park Pavilian) might have been fun. Photo by Special Correspondent Terry McVey.
What –if anything– does it say about you if you can instantly recall the worst day of your life but have to think a while to come up with a few contenders for the best day? One would hope this is because you’ve had a lot more really good days than bad. Or, maybe it’s because it’s easier to peg the misery-meter than to get a good reading on the happyometer. Or, does joy fade quickly while pain lingers like the smell of burned popcorn? What we need is a way to record every day, sort of like the security camera at the convenience store. Just recycle the tapes every few days unless you get one so good (we’re only interested in the good ones) it’s a keeper. I’m still wrestling with whether or not I’d take that little pill that would erase the past 12 or 24 hours. For those that might be wondering, I do have enough empathy and imagination to understand that my Worst Day would be a walk in the park for someone else. Or for some future me. Just a little navel-gazing on a beautiful summer day.
They’re talking about letting people use their cell phones in-flight. Can you even imagine the annoying assholes that will start yacking the minute their fat asses hit the seat and not let up for 3 hours. Times 200. I’d rather sit next to a smoker.
Most of my in-car radio listening is XM these days. But at home I still tune in to a couple of the local stations. And it dawned on me this week that the little transistor radio I listen to is more than 20 years old. We brought it with us when we moved to Jefferson City in 1984. And it could have easily been 10 years old then. I love this little radio (made in Hong Kong for General Electric). On the front it proudly announces “Integrated Circuit” and, on the back, there’s a little plasic clip for attaching to your belt. I’m trying to think of other things in my life that have worked as well or as long as this little transistor (when did we drop that adjective?) radio. I so clearly remember when a small, portable radio like this was the ONLY way to listen to music or news away from your home, car or office.
If/when this one breaks or dies, with what sort of device will I replace it? I’m sure they still make them but for how much longer. Will they become integrated with some kind of mobile device (cell phone)? That doesn’t seem practical. I’m not going anywhere with this. Just a small ode to a long-time companion.
Original Cyber Twin, Allen Hammock, is now married to his soul-mate, Ellen. The stories (his, hers) of how the met are on their website, along with photos (I missed Ellen in this shot of Allen and best-man Dan Arnall).
