Professional wrestling/theater mash-up

In honor of tonight's Tony Awards, I'll do a theater post, although this play is very, very far removed from what's being shown tonight.

The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity is a hard title to remember but, Jason, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you beg, borrow or steal a ticket to this show. It's a look at professional wrestling. The stage consists of a wrestling ring and you are treated to a match or two. It's a satire on how wrestling is a crash of economics, race, ego and ambition.

It's a comedy and I laughed my ass of from opening until final curtain. A great piece of theater. And don't just take my word for it. The play was a finalist for this year's Pulitzer Prize and lots of folks, myself included, think that the only reason it didn't win was because it was still playing in Chicago when the prize was awarded. New York theater is unfairly favored. It's a fact!

Regarding the fakery and predetermined outcomes of wrestling, a very good point is made. It is, after all is said and done, a performance piece. Aside from the content, is it any different than seeing Hamlet and knowing exactly how it's going to end? Not so much.

The last time I saw a wrestling play was Teaneck Tanzi: The Venus Fly Trap (1983) starring Andy Kaufman and Debbie Harry. Kaufman played the ring referee. Harry played Tanzi, who had a special deadly hold: The Venus Fly Trap. For real.

* * *

Here's a fun article from The Wall Street Journal about a self-described Manners Enforcer. He's a dapper, bow tie-wearing gentleman in his 60s whose mission in life is to get folks to behave in a more civilized manner when in public. His weapon of choice? The cell phone jammer, of course! Here's the photo from the article. It's the exact same model I employ! We are brothers in the same war.

Alfred Giancarli for The Wall Street Journal

Additionally, here's a card that was posted to PostSecret today.


I'm hoping an army of us arises to take back our peace quiet. Simply put, people who abuse their cell phones in public are assholes and deserve to have their service cut off. Sometimes I think that cell phones are a greater threat to Western civilization that Al Qaeda.

Happiness is a warm cell phone jammer

[In a loud voice:] Stop tellin’ me how to live my life ma! I’m 37 years old!...zzzap...No, I ain’t hangin’ up on ya, ma! It’s the recep--...zzzap...I SWEAR I ain’t hangin’ up on ya! Quit yellin’. Don‘t talk to me like tha--...zzzap...It ain’t ME. No, YOU shaddup! It’s this gaddamn CELL PHONE!...zzzap

Happiness is a warm cell phone jammer.
Bang, bang. Shoot, shoot.

* * *

Here's my favorite recent key phrase search hit on my blog:

can i collect unemployment if my job is unbearable?

Yes, I suppose I could qualify as an authority on that. Other, more disturbing search hits include:

disney princess sexy
disney princesses sexuality
hottest disney princess
princesses disney hot image
sexy Disney princess - costumes

and

banished, I have been banished

Me, too, brother.

* * *

Over a two-decade period in New York, I’ve probably visited hundreds of pizza parlors and have eaten thousands of slices in many different variations. But I've never come across this beauty. It’s a breakfast slice! Bacon, fried egg, green and red pepper, onion, tomato and black olives.


Cold pizza in the morning was a staple of my diet during my bachelor days, but this is carrying things a bit too far. I didn’t try a slice but now I kind of wish I had.

* * *

From the New York Times:

A 12-Hour Play, and Endless Bragging Rights

“The Demons,” a 12-hour production of a grim Dostoevsky novel that will be performed only twice, may be the must-see show of the New York theater season.

I disagree in the strongest of terms. I love a good dramatic production, but I’d rather sit through a Green Acres/Petticoat Junction marathon than a 12-hour (“grim”) Dostoevsky play. Seriously, what are they thinking? And who would subject themselves to it just to be able to brag to their friends that they did, as the article insinuated? There are people out here who would do just that! The Times is showing its pretentious jerk-off side. Again.

Cell phone interruptus

No, I’m on the train right now. Did you see the weather report for the pageant? I need to be careful! I don’t want to be a sunburned beauty queen!

ZAP.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Hello? I don’t know it just went dead. I'll DIE if I can't use my ph...

ZAP.

Hello? HELLO?!

She had an iPhone. The service for AT&T is so lousy that they live on the threshold of dropping a call normally. It doesn’t take much to push them over the edge. It's so easy that it takes all the sport out of it. It’s like tripping an old lady who's using a walker.

using my cell phone jammer knowledge for good instead of evil

This gem is from the New York Times:

South Carolina petitioned the Federal Communications Commission on Monday to protect the public safety by blocking signals from contraband cellphones emanating from prisons.

Of course, the scumbag lobbyists jumped into the fray with this line of nonsense:

Lobbyists for telecommunication companies say that any weakening of antijamming legislation could become a slippery slope that eventually could inappropriately limit cellphone use.

Why can't they just come right out and say they're worried that the industry's revenue stream will be compromised? What is "inappropriate?" Washington lobbyists occupy the same rung on the moral ladder as old men who expose themselves on the subway.

Do you suppose I can get a paying gig as a jamming consultant/expert. I've got plenty of field knowledge that I would happily share.

* * *

In the gym locker room this morning I saw a man hold a hair dryer over his shoulder and dry his back hair.

I wretched.

more cell phone jammer mischief

The guy sitting behind me on my train called his bookie and was placing bets on tonight’s baseball games. Loud and clear for all to hear! I’m not making this up! $200 on the Red Sox. $150 on the White Sox.

And that’s as far as he got. I gave him the juice.

I’ve seen people get angry over the inability to make a call but this guy exhibited a deep, primal rage you don’t see in public very often. He was desperate to get these bets in—it was 6:55 and the games start at 7:05—but try as he might he couldn’t get through to his bookie. I pictured one of Tony Soprano's Jersey goombahs on the other end.

He was furious. It was the first time I worried about retribution. Guys with that kind of deep commitment to gambling seem to have a very low threshold for anger. Have you noticed?

* * *

I have become a Zen master gunslinger with my cell phone jammer. I was toying with my prey du jour—yet another yappy sorority chippy—and I needed to send a quick text message. I held my jammer in my left hand underneath a paperback of Truman Capote short stories. My index finger rested gently on the power switch. Economy of movement is key. In my right hand, I tapped out a text message. Then, with one fluid motion, I clicked off the jammer with my left hand and opened a brief window in the cell phone frequencies, hit the send button on the phone in my right hand and quickly activated my jammer again after my message went through. The entire sequence took a matter of seconds.

It's a shame it's not an Olympic event.

* * *

Are you watching True Blood? It’s fantastic! It’s got everything! Graphic sex, well-crafted scripts and story lines, hot sex, superb acting (with some fine American accents being faked), lust! lust! lust!, vampires and gore galore and some pretty raw sex scenes. Plus, best of all, the villains are a bunch of right wing religious nuts. They're the REAL blood suckers!

i givith but my cell phone jammer taketh away

Seated next to me on the train was a 20-something Mexican girl. The conductor informed her that since it was rush hour, she needed to step-up her off-peak ticket an additional $1.50. She didn’t speak English but eventually understood his request.

She reached into her wallet and handed the conductor a $100 bill which, of course, he could not break. It was all the money she had so the conductor pantomimed that she would have to get off at the next stop. She didn’t speak English but by the look on her face I could tell that she clearly understood THAT.

I, hero that I am, handed the conductor the $1.50. She said gracias several times. Then do you know what that ungrateful little bitch did? She popped a Bluetooth in her ear and started loudly yammering away into her cell phone. The volume knob on her voice was set at 8. If there’s a language spoken faster than Spanish, I’m not aware of it (especially if it’s being spoken by a 20-something Mexican girl with a high-pitch, grating voice).

Fortunately for my fellow passengers and I, my cell phone jammer was running on a fresh charge. Of course, I tormented her for several minutes by allowing her to reconnect her call and then knocking out her service. It was delicious fun and she deserved it. I don’t speak Spanish, but I’m pretty sure she was referring to Sprint in derogatory terms.

I can be agreeable but if you cross me I’ll turn on you.

* * *

Latest News story link on CNN homepage that I cannot possibly click on this early in the morning:

Ducklings down drain, mom quacks for help

cell phone jammer: a new low, even for me

I committed my first act of blatant, outright cruelty with my cell phone jammer this morning. I’m afraid I’m becoming drunk with all this power I have over the cell phone frequencies on my train. Perhaps the 60+ hour work weeks are getting to me. I’ve been a bit thin-skinned recently.

Apparently, the chatty young gentleman in front of me parked his car in the train lot but was unable to pay the parking fee because the meter didn’t take dollar bills and he had no coins. He was desperately trying to give his friend directions to where his car was parked so the money could be deposited. The meter police patrol the lot quite frequently, so it was only a matter of time until a summons was issued. It’s hard to convey which spot number your car is in (it was 62, by the way) when your phone keeps cutting out.

I don’t know why I didn’t just let him give out the pertinent information and then cut off his call if he started chatting about who was booted off American Idol. I’ve been working so much over the past few weeks that I’m not getting the proper amount of sleep and I’m a bit bitchy. I miss my family and I resent the amount of hours I’m required to work. I took it out on some poor sap who couldn’t pay the parking meter fee. That wasn’t very nice of me.

What is this strange sensation I’m feeling? It’s like a gnat buzzing around my ear. Is this guilt? A conscience rearing its ugly head? God, I hope not. What an inconvenience that would be!

is that a cell phone jammer in your pocket or are you happy to see me?

I continue to work horribly long hours at my new consultant gig at Gigantic Institutional Investor. There’s a lot I don’t like about working so late. It’s going to be a while until I am able to sit down and have dinner with the family or make an 8:00 curtain. The New York economy is still a wreck so this is how it must be for now. But there are small pleasures to be had from working late for a Big Corporation.

The days of corporate excess are not completely over. They feed us pretty much whatever we want for dinner. For instance, last night I had a BBQ duck burrito with black beans and rice. Dee. Lish. Us. If I work past 9:00 p.m., which is pretty much every night, I don’t have to deal with Penn Station and New Jersey transit to get home. They provide a company car and driver. It’s a nice black sedan. The only people at Penn Station at that hour of the night are the residents. Once, I walked into the men’s room at 10:30 p.m. and saw a man rinsing a sandwich off in the sink. I feel awful for our downtrodden citizens, but it’s not what I need to see after a 13-hour shift.

Last night was a beautiful, warm, night in Manhattan. I sat in the back seat and rolled down the window as we drove south on Park Avenue and then west across Seventh Avenue, through the fashion district, towards the Lincoln Tunnel. People were out walking in droves. Girls in short black dresses. Hot town. Summer in the city.

Once we’re on the Garden State Parkway, my drivers have an annoying habit of chatting on their cell phones while I’m in the back seat trying to read the paper or meditate or bang out a blog entry. You know the remedy for that, don’t you?

Say hello to my little friend. [And that quote is from…? anyone...? anyone...? Bueller?]

They’re professional drivers and if I asked them nicely, they would certainly stop their calls. But where’s the sport in that?! If you thought people on trains were easy marks, you should get a load of these poor guys. Knocking out a cell phone call is easiest when your intended victim is a mere few feet away.

anniversary + more cell phone jammer shenanigans

Today is the 1st Anniversary of this idiot blog. I envy people who are so emotionally evolved that they never look back and have no regrets. Well, that ain't me, pallies. I can think of, quite literally, DOZENS of things over the past 12 months that I wish I had done differently. But I am glad I began this blog. So there's that.

A tip o' the hat to Bobzyeruncle, me blogfather.

* * *

Best rationale ever from a cell phone jamming victim:

I think those Verizon employees who follow me around must have all died because my phone keeps... hello... HELLO?

cell phone jammer: the backlash begins

Someone from San Diego landed on my blog using the following search phrase:

How to get past a cell phone scrambler

Oh, is that so? Is it a war you’re looking for? You want a piece of my jammer? Who are you? Some smarty-pants pencil-pushing desk jockey from Verizon?

I’ll lay odds that if your tech guys invent a way to override my cell phone jammer, my tech guys (whom I’ve never met. They’re someplace in Hong Kong.) will invent a device to override your cell phone jammer override device. Pretty soon my bag will be weighed down with electronic espionage and counter-espionage gadgets.

I don’t mean to get all George W. Bush on you but bring it on, junior. I found out firsthand that when I respectfully ask someone to lower their voice, all I get is a dirty look and a suggestion that I go fuck myself. I didn’t want to get all illegal-Chinese-electronics on your ass but my hand was forced. I will fight for my right to nap on a quiet train.

* * *

Over the weekend I was listening to Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black. I hadn’t heard it in quite a while and I forgot how great it is. It’s a shame she’s such a train wreck because, ladies and gentlemen, that album is the real deal. It’s compelling and listenable from beginning to end. Nowadays, I only ever hear of her when she’s being picked on by the British tabloids. I hope like hell she can pull her shit together one of these days because I’d love to hear more from her. Poor girl.

* * *

I have a vicious bout of the old ennui this afternoon. Maybe it's the relentless gray skies. Perhaps it’s too much Amy Winehouse. Hope it passes real soon.

cell phone jammer damage

Look what's become of my poor cell phone jammer.

These things are so fragile. It's not like I slam it around or anything like that. This is the second unit I've purchased. The three prongs at the top bend out of place very easily. There's an even more powerful unit available (it's a bit more expensive than the $38 I paid for this one), but the prongs on that model look even more frail than this one.

A battle-hardened soldier. I like it. It looks MEAN.

* * *

United States: illegal to operate, manufacture, import, or offer for sale, including advertising (Communications Act of 1934), with fines of up to $11,000 and imprisonment of up to one year.

In the UK, you can own a cell phone jammer, but it's illegal to use it. C'mon, England. Don't be so naive. What do you think these things are for? Decorative wall sculpture?

The good news is that they are completely legal to own and operate in Armenia.

anti-climax (don’t you hate those?)

I answered a subpoena and visited the City of New York District Attorney’s office thinking I was going to testify in front of a Grand Jury.

Unbeknownst to me, the Assistant District Attorney decided she wasn’t ready to present the case to the Grand Jury just yet. There were some loose ends she needed to tie up. Apparently, this is a fairly large grand larceny case and they didn’t want to leave anything to chance. My appearance turned into an interview (interrogation is too strong a word to use) with the ADA, two NYPD Detectives and a DA flunky.

I was amongst about a dozen witnesses who are connected to this case. We sat on hard wooden benches in a small hallway and waited our turn to be interviewed. Small talk was exhausted fairly quickly. I got there at 9:30 a.m. and wasn’t called in to interview until 1:30.

I was finally escorted into the DA’s government-issued office (i.e., no wood paneling or stately views of downtown Manhattan. Just blue/grey painted walls and cheap metal furniture.). When I sat in the hot seat, the ADA said, “This is the guy I’ve been waiting to meet.”

Pour quoi? I wondered.

Apparently, amongst the dozen or so witnesses, I am the only person who is able to identify the one of the thieves on site. I’m the only one who actually caught him in the act and stepped forward. The thieves stole from gym locker rooms and since it’s illegal to have cameras in public locker rooms, there is no video evidence. I’m all they’ve got.

I’ve always wanted to distinguish myself from the commoners, but this isn’t what I had in mind.

I was told that should this case go to trial (a likelihood, at this point) I would be their key witness. I have to let them know if I leave town. I was assured that there is no danger.

* * *

I didn’t bring my cell phone jammer with me because I knew that in order to get inside the New York County District Attorney’s Office I'd have to pass through a metal detector. The District Attorney’s office is the LAST place I wanted to get caught with a potentially illegal device. I had to suffer the cell phone calls of fools on the train back to New Jersey.

Here’s how bad it’s gotten: While waiting for my track number to post, if someone nearby is participating in a particularly loud and noxious cell phone call, I’ll follow him/her onto my train, sit directly behind them and make sure that he/she doesn’t make the ride unpleasant for my fellow passengers. Studies (my studies) have shown that improper cell phone use in the train station ALWAYS translates to improper use once on board the train.

Please don't judge me. My motivations, believe it or not, are completely altruistic.

my cell phone jammer is outed in public

A man walked onto the train, took a seat three rows up from me, popped a Blutooth into his ear and started yammering about market conditions. Do you know how loud you have to talk when using a Blutooth? It was unreal. The woman sitting next to me started to gather her bags to move to another car.

“I have to leave. This guy is going to talk on the phone until we get to New York.”
“No, he’s not. Do you know what this does?”
“No way! Does that really work?”
“Watch.”

It was glorious. I was the hero. It takes a certain kind of person to use a Blutooth on a train. It’s the same kind of person who would actually stamp its foot in anger after his call was dropped for the third time.

After that foot stomp, a passenger sitting in the row in front of us slowly raises his hand above the seat back and gave me a thumbs-up. He overheard my boast and approved.

I shouldn’t be so cavalier. What if the guy sitting in front of me was a Verizon executive? What if the guy using the Bluetooth participates in Extreme Wrestling matches?

* * *

A woman became so frustrated at the number of dropped calls on the train that she got her Verizon bill out of her purse, called customer service and started screaming at them. Do you know what? I let her finish that call.

* * *

I’ve had limited success with my cell phone jammer on city buses but on trains, it can’t be beat! Does anyone else have one of these things? If so, does it work for you on buses?

cell phone jammer: a love story

I was hitting doubles with my cell phone jammer on the train in. With one flick of a switch I was zapping the cell phone calls of both the yappy 19ish year old girl with an urban attitude sitting directly behind me AND the sideways baseball cap-wearing thug sitting in the row behind her. They were both cursing up a blue streak and getting good and angry. I, on the other hand, was feeling much better about the train ride.

They suddenly realized they were each having the same problem. They compared devices and cursed their carriers (his: Verizon, hers: AT&T) for having such wretched service so close to the city. They were drawn together by a common enemy (technology) and by the time we pulled into Newark, they had exchanged phone numbers. For all I know, they're in the process of becoming under-aged parents as I type this! How about that! They put their phones down and made human contact. I’m a regular cupid.

* * *

Also overheard on the same train from a different passenger who was starring out the window, wide-eyed, slack jawed, in utter disbelief:

Look at that! There’s a goddamn cell tower RIGHT THERE! Why can’t I get a decent signal?!

more cell phone jammer shenanigans

I had a live one on the train home. My cell phone jammer was carrying a full charge, so it was causing major disruptions in service when switched on. She didn’t stand a chance, the poor dear. She restarted her Blackberry three times, finally lost her temper and—I’m not making this up—started to bang it against the train window.

“…but I want to talk RIGHT NOW!”

Waaaaaa. Where's my ba-ba? I want my blankee. It was delicious. It was the best one yet. It was better than the guy who held his head near the floor of the train to get better reception.

* * *

Am I the only one on the planet who finds Mozilla Firefox unstable? Am I the freak?

a cold city begets a cold heart

There’s a homeless man who sits on the sidewalk outside of Benevolent Dictators, Inc. He’s there every evening when I leave work. He’s on the west side of 5th Avenue just north of 43rd Street and has a sign that reads, “I’m hungry, homeless,” etc. He has a dog with him. It’s a medium sized dog. Maybe a pit bull or a mutt. Do you know what I think when I walk past them every evening? “That poor dog.” How shitty is that? It’s not as though I lack compassion for the man. I just seem to have more for the dog. I’m a jerk.

When I moved to New York twenty years ago, I use to keep a lot of quarters in my pocket and dole them out to homeless people on the streets and subways. The city was in terrible shape when I first got here and homelessness was rampant. But it got to be too much for me and I did what a lot of urban dwellers did; I hardened my heart and the homeless became invisible to me. You had to. It was a defense mechanism. Otherwise, you became overwhelmed with melancholy. So I don’t think I’ve broken that bad habit yet. I should. I’ll try.

* * *

Last night on the train I was über annoyed because a woman a few rows behind me was talking talking talking talking talking without pausing to take a breath and I thought my cell phone jammer was failing because I couldn’t shut her up. (It doesn’t always work. If someone’s cell phone is using a frequency outside the range of my jammer, they’re unaffected.) Finally, I turned around so see who was running her pie hole and she wasn’t on the phone. She was with someone but was hogging the entire conversation and wouldn’t allow her friend get a word in. It was all about her! They need to invent a jammer that freezes vocal chords.

contortionist

Look, I know everyone is sick to death of hearing about my cell phone jammer escapades. I’ve been told, so you don’t have to deny it. But just this one more and then I’ll shut up.

Last evening a gentleman sitting in front of me on the train home met with some erratic cell phone service (as so many do, who sit in my proximity). He cursed Verizon, his carrier. His seat was the type that could accommodate three people and he had the whole seat to himself. Every time his call was dropped, he would slide to a different part of the seat—first the bulkhead, then the aisle, then the middle—thinking the service was better just a foot or two away and place his call again.

As you can imagine, his service never improved. In a last desperate attempt to carry on his meaningless conversation, he laid down across the seat on his stomach and held his head over the edge of the seat, certain that the strongest signal was to be found near the floor of the train. It was so funny!

I'm know mean. Please forgive me.

Is Charlize Theron the Dumbest Woman on Earth?

How far out of touch with reality can one Hollywood starlet be?

Swiss watchmaker Raymond Weil paid Ms. Theron a reported $20 million to shill be their spokeswoman and wear their watches exclusively.

Here on planet earth, that's an extraordinary amount of money to do nothing. And by "nothing," I’m not speaking in metaphor or allegory. All she had to do was pose for some pictures and wear a stupid wristwatch when she went out at night. What could be easier? Well, guess what? She couldn’t do it. She was photographed at a film festival wearing a Dior wristwatch, was sued, and a judge ordered her to give all that money back. A contract is a contract!

What happened? Did she forget? Not care? How arrogant. How dreary.

* * *

I hit a triple on my train home last night. I knocked out three—count ‘em—three cell phone calls at one time when I activated my cell phone jammer. I’ve hit hundreds of singles, a handful of doubles, but this was my first triple.

It never gets old.

* * *

The U.S. Presidents from 1776 to present.

I Wonder What’ll Happen If I Sneak Up Behind This Bear and Kick Him In The Nuts?

Are you following the mess out in Georgia? Russia might annex part of the country and the whole thing is Georgia’s fault. They provoked Russia by trying to seize control of secessionist South Ossetia, which has a Russian majority. I think everyone agrees that Russia’s response has been a little over the top, but my father-in-law summed the whole thing up very succinctly:

What’d they expect?

* * *

Overheard on the 10:42 p.m. train from a loud, boisterous female cell phone-user. (My jammer was dead. Curses!) All dialog is guaranteed verbatim:

By the South Amboy station? Them mutherfuckers got the best chicken salad in the worl (sic). I lie not. I’m constipated. I can’t take a shit. Gimmie my damn soda (to her young daughter). What’s the name of that place again? The Honeymoon Motel? I’ll punch you right in you gotdamn head. Hey! How you? You alright? Be safe, you mutherfucker!

At Last, My Right Arm Is Complete Again!

My replacement cell phone jammer finally arrived from Hong Kong. Once again, I control the cell phone frequencies on my commuter train. Mrs. Wife said that my mother- and father-in-law think there’s “something wrong” with me and to not mention it around them again. But don’t all of the best gadgets have a whisper of corruption in some small way? Remember, Goldfinger was just 0:07 seconds away from contaminating all of the gold in Ft. Knox by detonating a thermonuclear device. They said there was “something wrong” with him, too. And what was his sin? He supported an unpopular gadget. Just like my cell phone jammer.

No cell phone for you, you yappy Barbie Doll.

* * *

The title of this post is a line from a movie/play. Can you name it?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?