Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Month: September 2008 (Page 2 of 2)

Goody Two Shoes

September 17, 2008 / / 41 Comments

Some of the comments on my last post about a “caring” Twitter account were difficult for me to read.  I hate being thought of as a “nice guy.”

“You’re a good egg!”  someone wrote.  “Such a humanitarian!”

Ugh.  Are you trying to ruin my love life?   All the hot male characters on “All My Children” are the “bad boys”  Ladies, be honest with me — would your rather have a raucous one night love-fest with Mister Rogers or Roger Federer?

I needed help with my image.  Damage Control.  Luckily, my friend Lisa works at a large PR firm in New York and we spent the day brainstorming in her Madison Avenue office overlooking 23rd Street.

“In today’s media environment, it’s all about appearance and branding.” she said.  “Most of us have several levels, but audiences can only focus on one dimension at a time.  There are thousands of informational points vying for attention in today’s multimedia world, and each broadcaster only gets enough time to send out a strong single throughline to the public arena through words, visuals, and actions.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“You need to ask yourself, “Who is Neilochka?” You present yourself as a goody-two shoes and then you complain about never getting laid.  The problem is not YOU.  You have more than one dimension.  The problem is that you project yourself in a singular fashion, like an image on a movie screen.  And that image is goody two shoes.”

“But I’m not really a goody two shoes.”

“Exactly!  That is why I can help you do, as a professional.  I can help you bring forth another facet of your personality, filtering out the static information you don’t want, changing how you are perceived by your readers and followers.”

“I don’t want to lie or create a false impression just to change my image.”

“Of course not.  But I am sure that you aren’t always nice.  Can you think of a situation recently where you were NOT NICE or a goody two shoes?”

“Well, uh, yeah.  I wasn’t that nice to my mother this morning.”

“That’s good.  Now we’re getting somewhere.  Tell me about it.”

“I woke up this morning and my mother was in the kitchen.  I sleep in the living room, so I was easily awaken.  She had some lame-o excuse for waking me up.

“I’m sorry, Neil.  But I wanted to make you a cheese omelet.  I know this is your favorite.”

I scratched my balls and sat at the kitchen table, unshaven.  She placed the cheese omelet in front of me, along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.  I took a bite of the omelet, and I spit it out.

“What the f**k is this?”  I screamed.  “Do you call this a cheese omelet?”

“What’s the matter with it?”

“You used Swiss cheese!  You know I like Munster Cheese in my cheese omelet!”

“They didn’t have any Munster cheese in the supermarket.  A car smashed into the side of the store yesterday so they were only open half a day.”

“I don’t care!  Did you really expect me to eat THIS?”

I tossed the plate like a frisbee, smashing it against the wall, the cheese omelet sticking to the wall like putty.

“I’m not gonna eat this crap!  What kind of mother are you?!  I am so disappointed in you!”

I threw the glass of orange juice against the wall, just for dramatic effect, then stormed out, leaving my mother in tears.”

“That is perfect!” said Lisa, my PR friend.  “You must write a post about this.  You are such a BAD boy in that story!  The girls are gonna be getting wet just thinking about you!”

“Really?”  I cried, enthusiastically.  “Wow, that is terrific.  No more Mr. Goody Two Shoes for me!  And then, at the end of the post, I can tell them that — starting today — I’m going to start writing once a week for a really nice group blog about my attempts to go “green” to help save the planet!”

“Uh, no, bad boy.  Don’t write about that.”

(more tomorrow)

A Twitter Idea

September 14, 2008 / / 75 Comments

Recently, I went on Twitter and mentioned that my uncle passed away.  Some of you sent me such beautiful messages.  One blogger sent a quote from the Bible.  Later that day, I went on Google Reader and noticed that I missed reading about the death of a blogger friend’s mother, a birth of a child, and a woman’s three day stay in the hospital for surgery.  After people were so nice to me, I felt like a jerk — and self-absorbed — for not sending support or congrats to others.  Sometimes I think I follow TOO many people, only giving superficial attention to everyone.

I wrote a post last week where I said that the blogosphere seemed “conservative,” meaning that this virtual world follows the rules of Adam Smith and Milton Friedman.  It is a free market system, each blogger acting out of self-interest and self-promotion, each wanting to network with the more powerful.  If you work hard, Write well, meet the right people, and give away wii-fits, you can have 2000 comments just like an A-list blogger.  It is up to each of us to work harder to “compete.”  The system works well for most of us. 

But can we make the blogosphere a little more “liberal” — meaning trying to lessen the differences between the haves and have nots, a strengthening of the human aspect of community while maintaining the free-market, democratic nature of blogging?  Wouldn’t it be nice if there was more equality in the attention we get from the community during important life events — birth, death, illness, marriage?  It is a sad fact that Dooce’s dog would get more love and attention from readers for getting a splinter in his foot than an unknown blogger electrocuted to death by a faulty laptop (sorry, just made that up, but you know it is true).  It’s just human nature, and our limited attention span.

Every once in a while, a grassroots campaign starts up after a tragedy, such as the Nie Nie Benefit Blog.  But what about the sad events that aren’t so well-publicized.   Do we care only for those when there is sufficient media coverage or the story makes it on Oprah?

I spent this morning trying to think of way to equal the playing field online, not in quality of writing or popularity, but in how we can show more concern to each other, a way to open up the community to helping as many people as possible with a friendly message of hope or congratulations. 

And I thought of Twitter.  Twitter is the ultimate PR tool (look how marketing companies use Twitter) because “social media” spreads information quickly through word of mouth.

I have noticed that news outlets like the AP now use Twitter.  Whenever there is a big news event going on, they broadcast it.  Those on Twitter frequently know about an event before CNN.  Now that is powerful!

Here’s my idea.  Tell me if you think this could work.  We set up some new Twitter account and call it something corny like BloggerCares, BloggerNews, or LifeEvents.   Whenever one of us reads about a blogger with a big event — a death, a birth, a major surgery, a wedding — even if he is someone we don’t know personally — this information could be sent to this account, and then re-tweeted to hundreds of peoples at once, sort of a personal bloggers AP service.   Then each receiver of the tweet could act however they wanted to — sending a message to this blogger acknowledging this happy or sad event, trying to be as personal as they could with someone they don’t really know, posting a comment on the person’s blog, or writing an email showing support.  If it all worked well, we would be closer to a blogosphere where every blogger who needs it — can receive a few nice messages from the community, without any thought to who he is or what religious, color, political entity — or clique – he belongs to, or whether he is A-list or C-list.  

It wouldn’t require much work from anyone.  It is pretty easy to send an “I’m sorry about your loss” or a “congrats on your marriage” in a quick tweet or comment.  I know I certainly appreciated getting those messages about my uncle.

There are still some issues that need to be worked out.  For instance, wouldn’t too many people submit the same information about the identical surgery?   Would it all be too overwhelming to handle?  I’m not sure I could do this by myself.

Is this a dumb idea?  Any suggestions?

Damn You

September 12, 2008 / / 45 Comments

This was a long week in real life.  It was also a long week ON the internet. 

I joined Stumbleupon, then inadvertently sent invites to everyone on my Yahoo email list.  The evil application tricked me with their checked “tell your friends!” box as the default choice, rather then the logical unchecked one.   I sent glowing testimonies to 300 people, including a few top producers in Hollywood who have now banned me from Burbank.  One blogger who I haven’t interacted with in two years sent me an angry note.  A nice woman from Idaho was confused about “why I loved Stumbleupon so much.”  Several of you actually joined Stumbleupon because I asked you to!  I felt like a total ass. 

Damn you, Stumbleupon!

A few days ago, I went on Twitter and talked about some minor personal issue with Sophia.  I figured that it was safe because Sophia never goes on this application.   BUT — I didn’t realize that the new Yahoo Messenger 9 Beta has some “cool” new addition, where unless you shut it off, “broadcasts” other applications — such at Twitter — right onto Yahoo Messenger.   So much for being an early adopter.   As I chatted in Twitter, Sophia was sitting in Redondo Beach reading each of my tweets in real time!   She was not happy.

Damn you, Yahoo!

At 3AM this morning, I posted a poorly written post.  My clever idea was to talk about sex under the guise of writing about “passion” in politics.   Note to self:  Do not write posts at 3AM.   When I woke up, I noticed that the first five comments were all about the election rather the real point of the post –  getting laid! — so I just deleted the creative failure. 

Damn you, libido!

My uncle, Milton, was buried on Wednesday, in the spot in the cemetery next to my father.   When looking at my father’s tombstone, I was reminde that my father also passed away in September, in 2005, not long after I started this blog.   Milton was my father’s younger brother.   He was cremated in SF and brought here on a flight by his longtime female companion and my cousin.   It is unusual for Jews to be cremated, so I had never seen something like this before.   I have to admit, that despite the sadness of the event, there was some macabre humor involving the ashes.

Neil:  “Can I carry something for you?”

Female Companion:  (handing me a small shopping bag with a box inside)  “You can hold your uncle.”

I think my uncle would appreciate the humor.

There are some complicated family stories involving him that I would like to tell some day, but for now, let me just say that he was a cool and loving man.  He was buried with his favorite hat and a copy of Sports Illustrated. 

I also learned that he read my blog, and liked the sexy posts.  I wish I could talk to him more about this. 

Damn you, Time, which waits for no one!

After I deleted my post this morning, I slept (that’s what happens when you write posts at 3AM).  When I woke up, I felt guilty for not publishing anything today.  I took a walk downstairs.  It was raining, but I forgot my umbrella.  I was unshaven, my chin with graying stubble.  There was only one place to go — across the street to McDonald’s.

Yes, THAT McDonald’s.  I was going to end the week the same way I began it – by going to my infamously bad local franchise for a cup of coffee.  For some reasons, I seem to magically come up with blog posts when I visit.  Some have a Greek Goddess as their muse.  I have Ronald McDonald.

I ran across the street in the pouring rain.  I entered the McDonald’s, and stood on line.  When it was my turn to order, I stepped up to the young woman at the counter.

“Can I help ya?” she asked.

“A small coffee, please.”

“With the senior discount?”

“Wha…?”

“Do you want the senior discount?” she asked again.

Now, I’m usually quick-witted, with a ready reply to any comment.  But her question was so unexpected, I just stood there, as silent as a solid as a statue of an aging Adonis, not knowing what to say.  I’ve gone to bars where they have carded me, and I have laughed at the idea of anyone thinking I was twenty-one, knowing that the dude at the front door is just going through the rituals, but WTF — a SENIOR DISCOUNT?!  A senior discount for my cup of coffee?  For me?   Is that what I look like to a seventeen year old girl?  Isn’t this the typical age of the typical bikini girl in Maxim magazine?  I was hoping that this type of girl would be throwing herself on my bed after I publish that best-selling novel?  I never expected that she would SEE ME as a senior citizen visiting from Boca Raton! 

How much is it to color your hair at Supercuts?

Damn you, McDonald’s!   (but at least I got a post out of you again)

When I returned home, I told my mother the story.   She laughed and laughed, combing her white hair back, selfishly enjoying my misery.   But as an woman who has been a member of the AARP for several years, she also had some sage advice:

“Next time someone asks you if you want the senior discount, you say YES!”

Earth, Wind, and Fire

September 10, 2008 / / 28 Comments

Today I will continue my tradition of writing a blog post about my neighborhood without walking a block from my mother’s apartment building. 

I’ve introduced you to the supermarket downstairs with the crashing cars and the religious Jewish guy with the condo fliers.  I’ve told my tales of the worst McDonald’s in the United States and the seventeen year old black kid who is the assistant manager and the elderly Chinese saleswoman selling porno DVDs.  I’ve exposed the evil landlord from Palm Beach, Florida, who is trying to close all the small stores a half a block away to build some sort of Kmart.  Today, I’ll move across the street — to the mini-mall next to McDonald’s. 

In this non-descript Los Angeles-style mini-mall, there is a small deli, a chicken/pizza place, a hair stylist, and a “car service.” Other than using the car service to go to the airport, my mother doesn’t go into any of these stores.  They mostly cater to the Muslim, mostly Pakistani and Afghan community.  Now in my mother’s defense, she doesn’t go into the religious Jewish stores on Main Street either.  These small insular establishments are not very friendly to the outsider.  I’ve tried the pizza at the Muslim pizzeria a few times, and the food was pretty bad.  And for the record — women in burkas don’t like you checking out their asses.  But I have used the “car service” to go to the airport.  The drivers are excellent, despite all of them looking like Bin Laden’s brothers.

Over the car service is a small mosque, built into what seems to be a former dentist’s office.   A crescent moon stands proudly on the make-shift fabric domed roof.  From my mother’s living room, you can look directly into the mosque.  It is Ramadan now, so there are services at night.  I sleep in the living room, because the mattress of the convertible bed my mother put into my bedroom is like sleeping on metal.  While I lay on the couch, I can look inside the mosque window and in the brighness of the room, watch the religious praying, kneeling and facing Mecca. 

Later today, is my uncle’s funeral.  It has been a crazy week since he passed away.  He lived in San Francisco, but he wanted to be buried in New York — near my father, who was his eldest brother.  This opened up some neurotic family discussions, and also a debate over how to get him to New York.  He wanted to be cremated, which could be iffy in some Jewish cemeteries. 

And the big question — “Can you carry an urn with ashes on an American Airlines flight?”

This morning, I woke up to the sound of my mother’s loud dishwasher.  I also heard the sound of prayer.  It was comforting, even if it was coming from another religion – from a religious group that doesn’t usually see eye-to-eye with mine.    I thought about religion in general, and how we are all alike at heart.  All of us trying to make sense of life and death, all having the same hopes and dreams.

And then the whirl of the dishwasher stopped.  And what I thought was prayer was not prayer at all.  There was no one praying at the mosque.  What I imagined as sacred prayer was the janitor’s CD player blasting songs from “Earth, Wind, and Fire” as he worked on his old Toyota out front.

Is the Blogosphere More Democratic or Republican?

September 9, 2008 / / 52 Comments

Note:  From the comments I have already received on this post, I can tell that this post doesn’t really work — at least the way it was intended.  Now I know why people avoid writing boring political posts.  What I was trying for — and didn’t succeed — was to broaden the terms of liberal and conservative into ways that don’t necessarily follow political lines.  So, just because you like Sarah Palin does not automatically make you “conservative” in the way you act in the world on a daily basis.    It just makes you Conservative politically if you have her beliefs on abortion, etc. 

Is the Blogosphere more Democratic or Republican?  Liberal or Conservative?  These are the type of questions I ask myself when I wake up on a Tuesday morning.

I am looking for something more than the party politics of Liberal/Democratic and Conservative/Republican.    I want to think about the core ideologies behind the labels.  I am going to be overly-simplistic here.  Feel free to call me an idiot for trying to make sense out of this topic.

Republican/Conservative: 

Respect for Authority (tradition, family, values)
Personal Responsibility (the free market, small government)

Liberal/Democrat:

Freedom (openness, rights of underdogs, lack of tradition, free speech)
Social Responsibility (social programs, public schools, striving for equality, big government)

Who do I consider a liberal?  My mother.

On Sunday, my mother and I took a walk to the local Catholic Church, which has a flea market each week.  It is a pretty lame flea market.  It is mostly locals selling their crap.  We never buy anything, but it is fun to look at the old toys, albums from the 1970’s, touristy dishes bought on vacation at Niagara Falls, etc.  It reminds me of  the joy of reading blogs, getting a chaotic slice of each person’s life and history.  What did this woman do at Niagara Falls?  Why did she buy this plate?  Was it a gift?  Was the trip an unpleasant one so she is now selling it to overcome the lifelong trauma?

As we were walking to the flea market, we passed a yeshiva for young religious Jewish boys.  We were surprised that they had school on Sunday.  It must have been lunchtime because they were outside in the playground, running around and acting like energetic boys.  If they weren’t wearing yarmulkes, you would have no idea they were Jewish.  The games and rough-housing was the same as in every other school.

My mother noticed that one boy was sitting by himself in the corner.

“How sad.  I feel bad for him.  No one is playing with him.”

I found her statement odd, because she was reading so much into the scenario.

“How do you know this?”  I asked.  “He could be eating his lunch, or tired.  Or maybe he broke his foot last week so he needs to sit.”

“No, he clearly wants to play.  And the others are not nice.  They should ask him to play.  But you know who really is at fault here.  The teacher.”

A young rabbi was standing by the gate, watching all his students.

“He should get the others to play with him.” said my mother.

My mother is a liberal who clearly believes in the government (the teacher) getting involved.  She is registered as an Independent.  She even flirted with voting for McCain because she is worried about Obama’s inexperience.  But in ACTION – and her daily THOUGHT process, she is “LIBERAL.”

Sophia is a registered Republican.  Every once in a while, people email me asking, “How could you MARRY a Republican?”  The truth is she is very LIBERAL in the way she acts towards others. She is not anti-minority or anti-gay or anti-abortion.  She is conservative in her view of personal responsibility, but I have noticed that that has even changed through the years.  After dealing with our crappy and expensive health insurance, I think she is much more in favor of some sort of socialized health plan.

If a conservative is a liberal who has been mugged, a liberal is a conservative who has Pacificare for their medical insurance.

Diane of Of the Princess and the Pea recently had an experience where her young daughter and her friend revealed their political leanings when they met a homeless man.  One girl wanted to help him with a social program.  The other was cynical, thinking he would abuse the system, and not get helped at all. 

LIBERAL and CONSERVATIVE.

In July, right before the BlogHer conference in San Francisco, I read this popular post by Schnozzfest. In the post she addressed all the shy introverts who were attending the conference, trying to motivate them to overcome their wall-flowerness.  Rather than getting angry at the popular girls “ignoring them,” she suggests that they should get some balls and be more friendly.   It was a very well-written post, but I was in a bad mood that day, so I wrote a semi-obnoxious comment:

This was a powerful and well-thought out post. As someone who fights his own insecurities, I’m going to copy this onto my laptop, because – like you say — this is about more than BlogHer.

But…

…I find myself feeling a little uncomfortable with the thesis. I come from a long tradition of bleeding heart liberals, and your message sounds very much like that of a “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” conservative. In any social environment there are going to be hierarchies and social groups. Of course, it is up to the insecure to fight their “high school” fears and speak up. But I would like to hear from the “cool kids” in this imaginary high school. What is their responsibility to others? Do you just talk amongst yourselves, or do you reach out to a newbie? I strongly agree that people should stop acting like victims. This is an excellent message to send to those who are shy and insecure: stand up for yourself! This is something I work on all the time. I just hope that everyone who comments on this post saying, “I wish I said this” will ALSO take the time to reach out, since we are supposedly a “community of bloggers.” While it is the individual’s responsibility to put herself “out there,” there is nothing wrong with going to the wallflower hiding behind the plant and saying hello, especially when we’ve all been in that position before.

Do you see how much I am like my mother?   If you go to Schnozzfest’s site, you can see her reasoned response.

Can we really think about political labels such as liberal and conservative out of the political arena?   Would it add anything to the typical over-heated political discussions we usually have if we acknowledged that some Democrats act more conservatively and some Republicans are more liberal in the way they deal with others?   Some might think Lieberman was a traitor to his party to speak at the DNC, and others as the ultimate “liberal” in his blowing off the authority of the Party and following his beliefs, no matter how unpopular.  

In some ways, the blogosphere is Democratic/Liberal — not only in politics — but in form.  Anyone can start a blog.  There is freedom of speech.  There is lack of censorship.  The “little guy” is given a chance to speak out against the powerful.  There is respect for all races, religions, and beliefs.  There are a great many grassroot communities online where members care about each other and help each other learn and grow.

Of course, most of the blogosphere grew up during the Bush administration, so it isn’t surprising that there is also strong Republican/Conservative bent to this imaginary world – especially in the way it operates.  There is a whole lot of focus on making money, concern for own niche about others, old boy and girl networks, marketing, corporate sponsorship, links, authority, the free market, etc.  The white faces, corporate sponsorship, private parties, and swag of the RNC reminded me of… BlogHer. 

So, if you had to describe the leanings of the blogosphere,  would you say it leans more left or right — to community first or a system of haves and have nots?   Or is everyone a little bit “liberal” and “conservative,” leaving behind the politics of the terms, in the way we live our lives both online and in the real world?

Searching for My Identity in a Queens McDonald’s

September 8, 2008 / / 61 Comments

I’ve written about my local Queens McDonald’s before.  It is across the street from my mother’s apartment building.   It is also the worst run McDonald’s in the country.  The managers are so chintzy here that you have to ask for napkins.  They have removed all the napkin dispensers.   And God help you if you ask for another packet of ketchup.

Every morning, I go downstairs to this McDonald’s.  Why?  Don’t I live in New York City now, the home of hip coffeeshops, where your latte is served by some slender beauty from NYU and all the customers are reading David Sedaris?   Well, remember – I’m living in Flushing.   There is no Starbucks by my home.  There is a Dominican diner and a bagel shop, both terrific, but these are tiny Mom-and-Pop operations that do not want me taking up their space while I read blogs for an hour  — at least not for the price of a cup of coffee.  At McDonald’s, I can buy a cup of coffee and then write on my laptop until the battery runs out.

Sidenote:  I probably could write a haf-decent decent blog and never walk more than half a block from my apartment building.   On Monday and Wednesday I can write about the Pathmark supermarket downstairs where cars smash into things like in a senior citizen NASCAR race.  On Tuesday and Thursday, I can write about the crappy McDonald’s across the street.  On Friday, I can write about my mother.  And on the weekend, I can let my Penis guest post or I can write about blogging or kiss the ass of some popular blogger.  For some odd reason, I think this would be a more successful formula than the one I have now.

OK, back to McDonald’s.  Last week, there was a bit of drama over my ordering the Egg McMuffin without the meat.   Usually, I don’t order breakfast at McDonald’s.  I buy a cup of coffee and do some writing.  But despite my eating my Cheerios on that day, I found myself hungry.  I decided to order an Egg McMuffin.  I am not a fan of those greasy sausage patties, so I asked for a sandwich without the meat.  They charged me the same price.

“Shouldn’t the sandwich be cheaper because I’m not getting the meat?” I asked.

“No, said the bored cashier with that ‘I don’t give a shit attitude’.  “It is the same price.”

This bugged the hell out of me.  Clearly the meat portion is the most expensive part of the sandwich.  Shouldn’t they at least offer me a tomato as a replacement?

I mentioned this experience on Twitter later in the day, thinking I was the first person to ever notice this phenomenon.   I was not.  Vegetarians said this happens all the time.  They always pay the same price as the regular sandwich.

I am a nice, gentle soul.  Normally.  But when I see the “little man” wronged, especially when it is done by a mighty corporation, I MUST take action.  Consider me the Obama of the Blogosphere.  The next day, I strapped on my new belt that I bought at Rite-Aid for five bucks (as I was walking the day earlier, my belt buckle broke, and my pants starting slipping down, so I snuck into the drug store, was surprised that they sold belts, and got myself a nice bargain that looks pretty good), and swaggered down to McDonald’s.  I ordered an Egg McMuffin without meat, was charged the regular price — but before I handed over a penny, I demanded to see the manager.  A seventeen year with a Kanye West cap approached. 

“The manager is out.  I am the ASSISTANT manager.” he said.

I explained my problem.  He said that my cause was hopeless, because this was corporate policy. 

Some people say you can’t fight City Hall.  Maybe they are right.  Oh, by the way, I am still waiting for that phone call about my free flight from Dockers/JCPenney.

Yeah, let’s see how much Obama really “changes things” in Washington.  Hah!

Anyway —

I am in McDonald’s RIGHT NOW.  I usually write while I am here, but today I am mostly reading some blogs ($2.95 for two hours of wi-fi at McDonald’s).

I am also in an introspective mood.  I am thinking about my identity — both online and off.  Who am I?  What am I doing with my life?  Can my life be as “rich, bold, and robust” as they say about the coffee on the McDonald’s cofffee cup? 

Recently, I changed my Facebook network to “New York” from “Los Angeles” and ten people wondered if I had permanently moved.  It means nothing really.  I just did it, in the hope that some blogger that lives in New York might notice and invite me to a wild party with loose women while I am in town.

I am slow to change.  It wasn’t easy changing my network on Facebook.  I still don’t know what I want with Sophia.  Or where to live.  Or which new shows to watch in the new TV season.  If you look on my sidebar, you’ll see that I added some new widgets as an experiment.  This template is so old (2005), that I have to hand code half the gizmos.  I “designed” my header on a rainy afternoon way back March of 2005.  What does it mean?  Who is that kid?  I have no idea who that is, but it has been my “icon” since I began this blog.  Is this how I really want to be “branded?”

Last week, Maggie Dammit got her blog re-designed by the talented Sam of Temporarily Me.   Last night, I must have chatted online for a half an hour with new friend Jennifer from Thursday Drive about how jealous I was of this header because it captured this blogger’s identity so successfully.   My semiotic “blog header” analysis was worthy of Roland Barthes.  Look how much information we we get from this photo.  There is a picture of Maggie.  She is cute and likeable.  She has a quirky expression on her face, so we know that she is approachable, like Meg Ryan.  No on would ever say this person is a “bitch” or she would “stab you in the back.”   Look at all those books she has!   She is not a dummy.  But she is NOT a lonely, bookish hermit.  She is using a MAC!   And she is confident.  She has her arms up, like those women in those Sure deodorant commercials.  She is a hot, but approachable, literary, but trendy, confident, but caring.  Hell, I don’t just want to read her blog.   I want to marry this woman!   Now that is good branding.   She clearly knows who she is. 

Do you know who I am?  I doubt it.  Do I know who I am?

Let me go back to talking about McDonald’s.  Every morning, on schedule, a tiny old Chinese woman enters the store, carrying a plastic supermarket shopping bag.  She comes to every table:

“DVDs?  DVDs?  Good DVDS!”

Her business is pushing bootleg DVDs.  I have never seen a customer buy anything from her, or even look at what she has to offer.  The McDonald’s staff seem to have a “deal” with her.  She is allowed to sell her wares, but only if she gives each table one pass, and then she quickly leaves.

She just made her rounds a few moments ago, just as I was writing this.  She always comes to me first, because she see my laptop, so she figures that I am in the market for bootleg DVDs.

I always say, “Thank you.  No.”

Something changed in me today.  Maybe it was curiosity.  Maybe it was introspective mood, my thinking about my identity.  Maybe I just felt like doing things differently.  I have been changing lately.  Didn’t I almost have email sex with a stranger?  Didn’t I act assertively when I confronted the McDonald’s assistant manager about the unfairness of the no-meat Egg mcMuffin?

“OK, let me see what you have.” I told the Chinese lady.

She immediately sat across from me, grasping her plastic bag, ready for her sell.

“I know you like this –”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a group of DVDs wrapped in two large rubber bands.  They were all macho-type B-movies that I had never heard of, with titles like “The Killing Machine” and “Fists of Blood.” 

“You LIKE these!”  she insisted.

She was wrong.  I thought about Maggie’s header.  It was so clear “who she was.”  I found it amusing that this DVD saleswoman was completely off track.  Who does she see?  She sees “MAN.”  Her first assumption is that I want to watch this mindless violent shit. 

“No, no…” I told the DVD lady.

“Ah, I KNOW what you like,” she said, pulling out another collection of DVDs wrapped in rubber bands.  She was persistent.

This collection of DVDs came closer to my identity.  They were DVDs of Hollywood movies out in theaters RIGHT NOW.  I assumed that these are created by someone shooting a video in the theater as the movie was playing.  You can find stuff like this on chinese YouTube. 

“How much?”  I asked.

“Four dollars.” she said.

I was tempted for a second, just to buy something, but her collection consisted mostly of the most lame-brained comedy and action films out today.  These were movies I wouldn’t even watch for free on Chinese YouTube.  While I might see “Pineapple Express” because it is the only thing playing on a Saurday night, do I really need an illegal DVD of the movie?   Don’t they ever make any bootleg videos of good films or art films, or at least Woody Allen films?  Still, her choice of mainstream Hollywood movies came a lot closer to my true identity.

“I’m sorry,” I told my new friend.  I was wondering if I should buy her a cup of coffee while we sat together.

But she certainly wasn’t leaving… just yet.

“Ah, so this is WHAT YOU LIKE…”

She pulled out a final collection of DVD’s from her bag, wrapped, as usual, in rubber bands.  This was her “special” collection.  She smiled knowingly because she was confident that she had finally figured me out —

The DVD all had buxom, naked women on the covers, some blond and some Asian.  The films had titles such as “In and Out” and “My Favorite Geisha.”

“These you REALLY REALLY LIKE… huh?!”

The saleswoman was clever.  She had come very close to figuring out “who I was.”  But a person’s identity is a complex thing.  It cannot be isolated into just one characteristic.  Like many men, I am interested in naked women who want to be my geisha girl.  But that is not WHO I am.  She did not understand me at all.   If I don’t truly understand me, how can she understand me?  She was so confident in her sales ability, that she could manipulate my inner desires to sell me something, that she completely overlooked a even MORE important aspect of my identity —

— I am way too cheap to spend four bucks buying a porno DVD in McDonald’s!

I am finding out who I am a little more each day.

God Loves this Blog

September 5, 2008 / / 51 Comments

I don’t consider myself an atheist, but politicians talk too much about God.  My main reason for voting Democratic is that there is so much religiosity to the Republicans.  At least the Democrats like sex, even if it is with women other than their wives.   And why is the President sworn in on a Bible?   What do we do when we have a non-believing President?   Will he be sworn in on a copy of “The Lord of the Rings:  The Return of the King?”

If we are going to talk about God, we should talk about God and his relationship with this blog.

God loves “Citizen of the Month.”  How do I know this?   I have concrete evidence.

A month ago, I wasn’t in the mood to blog, so I asked a bunch of bloggers to guest post.  On the first day of my freedom, I stepped out of my apartment building, whistling, relieved of the pressure of having to write something witty or interesting for my non-paying readers.

And then — SMASH!   A car went through the window of the supermarket downstairs.

I immediately took photos and ran upstairs to publish it on the blog.  The photos were too dramatic to not share with the world!  It was as if God needed to do something dramatic to force me to post.

Remember, my God is the God of the Old Testament.  He is wise and caring, but not above causing a bit of mayhem to make “a statement.”

He is the God who said, “Hey, Abraham, why don’t you sacrifice your favorite son just because I say so.”

This is a passive-aggressive God.

Two weeks have passed since the guest-posting.  I never hit my stride again.  I only posted once this week, a sad tale of email sex gone bad.

This morning, I opened up WordPress.  As I began to type, I lost all mojo.

“Screw them,” I said to myself.  “These bunch of whiny losers don’t deserve more than one post a week from me.”

I shut off my computer and decided to take a walk, to get a bagel and coffee.  But as I approached the supermarket downstairs —

— SMASH!

God commanded that I post.

The Sexy Email Exchange

September 3, 2008 / / 56 Comments

Hi, this is Neil’s Talking Penis.  Remember when I used to post ALL the time on “Citizen of the Month?”  You haven’t heard from me in quite a while.   Why?   Well, frankly, there has been nothing to report.  Unlike Neilochka, who likes to hear himself talk, I only speak when I have something to say.

Another reason is that Neilochka has been infringing on my free speech.  He hated all the attention I got back in the good ol’ blogging days, when he was mostly known as “the guy who wrote the Talking Penis blog.”  Now he wants to be more “sophisticated,” like the classy bloggers who get book deals.  He doesn’t realize that the only freakin’ book deal that he’s ever gonna get is a book about ME!

Neurotic Jewish guy from New York — BORING! Seen it, done it, read it — snore!   But — Opinionated hard-on with a knowledge of the Kama Sutra, fine wines, and 80’s music? Now that is a best-seller!

Today, I have returned to the Blogosphere to complain about Neilochka.  He does not deserve to have me.  It is like serving the finest steak to an anorexic vegetarian.  It is like buying shoes for someone with no legs.  It is like writing a comment on Dooce’s blog, expecting one in return.

So, sit back, grab a Diet Coke, and let me tell my tale of how pathetic Neilochka can be:

Last week, Neilochka received an email from a nice, very attractive, intelligent, single girl in her thirties who lived in another part of the country.  She was a blogger who he had only read infrequently.  She knew about his frustrations living away from Sophia.  She also had her own frustrations.  She had recently broken up with her boyfriend.  In a polite manner, she suggested a remedy —

“…how would you like to send “sexy” emails to each other? Believe me, I have never done this before. I hope you are not offended. It would be fine if you said no. I just thought it would both do us some good… and it might be fun.”

Neilochka stared at the monitor for a long, long time.  He had never received an email like this, other than spam trying to sell him Viagra.  Neilochka has emailed and IM-ed with many female bloggers, but usually it about them complaining about their boyfriends and husbands, not wanting virtual sex talk.

Neilochka went to this girl’s blog and read a few posts. She seemed totally normal.

I screamed to Neilochka from inside his pants.

“Do it! Do it! For god’s sake, do it!  It is better than me sitting around her doing nothing but playing Sudoko with myself!”

Neilochka, as expected from a man who never takes action without mulling over it for ever, took forever to take a baby step.  He emailed the girl back.

“Hi, there!  Thanks for the email.  I am very flattered.  And it is very brave of you to be so assertive, especially for a woman.  I think it is really cool…”

And then he blabbed on some more, ass-kissing her and comparing her to what he loved so much about Sophia, exactly the wrong thing to be saying to a horny babe who obviously wants some sex talk.

She emailed back, saying that she loved his blog.  That was very clever on her part, as every guy loves to have his ego stroked.

But Neilochka, still with his head in his ass, emailed back, saying that he’s not sure he is the “right person to be doing this with.”

“I mean even though I’m separated, I’m still technically married, even though I am living apart, but I still…oh, I don’t know…”

After I bit Neilochka on the leg, he quickly changed his mind —

“Why not — let’s give it a shot!”

I did a little happy dance in his pants.

Now from my experience, women like a confident man in the bedroom.  It is like ballroom dancing — there are times where the man should lead.  Every romance novel has a man carrying his woman into the bedroom, sometimes even against her will.

“You brute!”

But then he kisses her, and she changes her mind, as quickly as Joe Lieberman changes political parties.

“Take me now, you hunk of manhood!”

Sadly, Neilochka is not that kind of man.  Ask Sophia.  Wait, forget that. Do NOT ask her.

Neilochka worries too much.  About making everyone happy.  If he was smart he would just worry about satisfying one person — me!

So, instead of Neilochka writing back —

“I am so hot thinking about you, I can’t wait any longer.  I want you.  I am ripping open your blouse – I don’t care how much it cost at Nordstrom — my hands NEED to explore your every curve…”

He wrote back a lame, flaccid message —

“So, what do we do now? Are there some… like… rules?”

You ever hear a Penis sigh like Charlie Brown.  Good Grief.

Neilochka waited for the return email.  She finally wrote back:

“Rules? Well, I am reading over the rulebook now, peering over the top of the book with my librarian glasses.”

Neilochka was impressed.  She used the word “peering” which is a cool word.  And he always had a thing for those sexy librarian types, who pull down their hair.  Neilochka decided he should show the girl that they were relating well —

“We have a lot in common! I wear glasses too!”

WTF?! A minute later, there was an email response.  The mood had changed.

“I just wanted to tell you, so you’re not disappointed later, but I really don’t wear glasses.”

Neilochka appreciated her honesty.

“That’s OK.  You have virtual glasses!  Cheaper that way.  Glasses are so expensive nowadays. Guess how much my glasses cost?”

Her response —

“$300?”

Neilochka’s response — (It was turning into a game show)

“No, almost $600. I have astigmatism so I had to get these superlight lenses from Germany.”

Neilochka and the girl exchanged a few more emails about the eyeglasses.

I was going crazy.

“Forget the optometry talk!  Talk about her tits.  Say you want to stick your face in her p***y!  She wants to get virtually f**ked, not talk about Lenscrafters!”

I tried to remind Neilochka to keep his eye on the prize, and not to let this unique opportunity fall off a loser’s cliff.

And then, IT HAPPENED.

It was 6PM. Neilochka’s mother called from the kitchen.

“Neil? You want dinner?”

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, at this point Neilochka sent this hot and horny girl the ultimate sex-killing email — a statement that should be written on his tombstone as a warning to future generations of men —

“My mother is calling me for dinner. Gotta go!”

“OK. Later!”

Three days passed until Neilochka remembered about the emails.  Three days!  Let me just repeat it to you to show you how pathetic this is — Some intelligent, hot babe WANTS to send horny emails back and forth with a man — even initiates it — and praises his lame-ass blog — and she tells him that HE TURNS HER ON — and he actually FORGETS about it for three days?!

You would think after this utter disaster that Neilochka would say “I’m sorry” TO ME?!  But no!

He thinks about the girl.

“Should I apologize to her?” he asks himself.  “It wasn’t that I wasn’t attracted to her.  Well, actually that WAS the problem.  I wasn’t really attracted to some person I hardly know. Maybe if we IM-ed for a couple of months –”

Oh yeah.  Cool Hand Neilochka.  Maybe if they IM-ed for a couple of months, and then exchanged photos, and then spoke on the phone, and then sent Christmas-Hanukkah cards, and then went to the movies a couple of times, and then watched “Dancing with the Stars” at night, laughing at Susan Lucci, and then kissed under the stars during a fireworks display–

Pathetic.

Yesterday, Neilochka emailed the girl.  They both laughed about the sexy email exchange.  They both thought it was their fault that it was so short-lived.  He did ask if she was wearing a bra, but that was as far as the sex-talk went.  She wasn’t.

And then, of course, Neil asked the most important question of all:

“If I don’t use your name, can I, uh… blog about this?”

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