Posts from the ‘NYC Street Photography’ Category
Are cellphones going down the path of french fries? Sometimes I think so. In the 1980’s, I recall that eating fries wasn’t only considered not bad for you but it was actually encouraged that you eat them.
“Here, son, eat something healthy, like french fries.”
Then at some point in the 1990’s, it became not good for you, so much so that somewhere in the 2000’s, you could rightfully look down at a parent giving a baby french fries. But the thing is, unlike raw butter sticks or lard pudding, french fries taste really good to a large amount of the human population. In the back of my mind, someone who doesn’t like french fries simply cannot be trusted.
I see people now with their cellphones and when they get the opportunity to “veg” out they “cell” out, and go to town facebooking, videowatching, emailing, etc., like mad zombies, during times and instances where previously it would have been “normal” to talk or observe or just be human. The units of time have become altered with these damn things, leaving more time to virtually connect and less time to being human, unless being human is now virtually connecting.
Maybe at some point cellphone use will seem bad and people’s behaviors will change. But like french fries, I’ve tasted the Kool-Aid, and it’s good.
Dear Peanut Butter:
Often times as parents we get a lot of advice, either from books or from our parents. But noticeably absent in any chapter or advice columns about parenthood is the importance of peanut butter, not necessarily for the child, but for the parent.
You have solved about 99 percent of all problems I have faced with my child. Don’t want to eat your broccoli? Well, here, have some fucking ants on a log. Don’t want to do your homework? That’s fine, but you won’t get a piece of toast with peanut butter. You sound a little grumpy? Here, a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup will make everything better.
Parents have a hard job. We are taught that the “in” thing now is to talk to your children all the time. Some of the uncles or single guys or ladies out there writing these advice columns must think that talking to their favorite niece at a birthday party for fifteen minutes proves their point. But stay at home with the child for at least a year and then come and tell me that children make great conversationalists.
I think you understand that more than anyone or anything. Unlike parents that have replaced peanut butter with hummus or some vegan/gluten free concoction, I have free space in my life where my kids know NEVER to enter. And I couldn’t have done any of that without you, peanut butter.
they’ll probably come down when we’re all sleeping. maybe on the night before christmas or when the earth is engulfed in a massive hurricane and everyone is huddled inside behind taped windows. i’m guessing they start in the forests and other heavily wooded areas, to get their footing and work on their balance. since they’re careful, they’re going to spend maybe a year or so hiding and sneaking about, watching our movements. there might be a report here or there, nothing national, about “sightings” up in the “mountains,” but we’ll probably just talk about that when we’re drunk. and then when all the ducks are in a row and they control all the machines, they will come through our doors, five for every one of us, and lock us in cages for a few years. in those years, there would be a big debate amongst the invaders of what to do with us, like keep us alive underground or use us for entertainment. but then it becomes clear, after most of us become brainwashed and unable to do anything, that the invaders are going to smash us and use us for crude oil to power their new machines. the population is eliminated except for small bands of humans, hiding in tunnels under the ground and in the rock faces.
I have nothing against NPR. Let me first just make that clear. What I have a problem with is sometimes they put really questionable stuff on the air, which makes me wonder whether the stuff I think is legit is really, in fact, just plain bullshit. Take for instance right now. On the air, someone is interviewing a father-son team, who wrote some book about “What waiters really think of you.” First of all, I don’t give a fuck about what waiters think of me. I’m not sure what else to say after that.