A Transgene Special Report (sort of)

Of the myriad characters created to market products to children, perhaps none were so bizarre as those inhabiting McDonaldland, which opened its doors to the world in 1971. From the milkshake-obsessed, walking, talking tumor known as Grimace to the utterly baffling Mayor McCheese (were we supposed to want to eat his head?) the citizens of McDonaldland presented a puzzling, yet tantalizing, view of a world in which McDonald's food products were not only purchased by everyone, but actually became everything in the world itself.

That is, until recently. From Wikipedia,
Late 2007
As the ongoing obesity epidemic in western nations has been increasingly noted by the mainstream media, McDonald's and other fast food chains have been under increasing pressure to revamp their products and advertising with healthier alternatives. As part of this campaigns, McDonald's has agreed to discontinue marketing to children under the age of twelve and the McDonaldland characters will be completely eliminated;[citation needed] Ronald has been recast as a role model for healthier lifestyles.


This news item, while as yet unsubtantiated from other sources, raises an important question: what will become of those characters who filled the ranks of the McDonaldland Army? What's next for this cast of rogues?

To answer these questions, I sat down with perhaps the most beloved of these characters, the Hamburglar, in his hideout in McDonaldand.
TG: So, thanks for meeting.
HB: No problem, robble. Did you bring those hamburgers I asked for?
TG: (handing over a bag of mcdonald's hamburgers)
HB: (quickly eating the hamburgers)
TG: You're still eating McDonald's, even after the news? You aren't angry with the company?
HB: Hey, think about that for a minute, robble. This is the only food I've eaten for the past thirty-six years. Doesn't that seem strange to you? Like there wasn't any other food around? Why'd I keep trying to steal hamburgers? They made me an addict, robble. That's why. Got me hooked. I try to stop the stuff, I get the shakes. Bad.
And hell yes I'm mad at them. Robble. I'm a kleptomaniac who's got a criminal background and a speech impediment, robble robble, and no work experience in the past four decades. What can I possibly do? Ain't nobody going to hire me now. (the Hamburglar begins to sob uncontrollably)

Careful, he'll hypnotize you with treats, and that's when he sneaks in the Judaism

Oh look! Free pie! My favorite kind of thing to find in the kitchen!

And aww, it's from Andrew!



WAIT WAIT WAIT...what's this in small print at the bottom?


Well, I'm sorry Jesus, but that was some excellent pie. Perhaps you'd like to make a delicious counter-offer?

HALLO-WHOA this update is late

Yeah, so as I find myself listening to the Mountain Goats' song "This year" on a daily basis for its resounding chorus of "I am going to make it through this year if it kills me," it appears my blog updates have been absent for some time from my "Oh good lord get this done right now" list. But after a harrowing trip to New Jersey this evening (feel free to go ahead and die, New Jersey) I decided to do some end-of-the-year updating. So here are a whole bunch of pictures from halloween! Sorry they're not getting the treatment they deserve. Also, hooray for mermaid dog!

someone please buy me this right now

I'll have trip updates soon. in the meantime, somebody start bidding because christmas is coming soon!

UGH.

Why do all these people with chronic and persistent mental illness persist in having chronic mental illness? Seriously you guys, feel better soon. Even though you won't see this post.

Let me just say that working in theatre at Fountain House has really made me have to learn how to adapt techniques on the fly and how important it is to plan for people slipping off meds, ending up back in hospitals or homeless, etc. In other news, the recording of several new plays, monologues and songs from people I've been working with is almost done! I will be sending it everywhere and to everyone when it's finished.

No one wants to play Sega with Harrison Ford; Christopher Walken builds a Robot

"Bad Day on the High Sea" is the title of this piece by Brandon Bird, who paints some pretty great things. If you liked Perry Bible Fellowship and can identify Chuck Norris, you'll like these. So you should go here and see them!

(also, RC 40th update coming soon)

This is pretty crazy right here

This is pretty freaky. I see it going clockwise, but I can get it to reverse if I think about it. Bizarre!

Oh man, Teen Wolf!

I love movies. And the more movies I see, the more I appreciate those that really stand out - the ones you keep talking about weeks after you see them, or that you honestly get excited about when you see they're coming on TV.

Just this past week my friend Maria (just back from seeing her family in Italy) and I saw "Cranes are Flying," a remarkably shot film from 1957 which tells the story of a Russian family's involvement in WWII. The director does some pretty impressive things, and his later film, "I am Cuba," has been brought back for circulation by Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorscese. I'll be seeing that this coming weekend.

I also saw the new edition of Blade Runner at the Zigfield Theatre at my brother-in-law's suggestion as part of my eldest sister's birthday celebration (what a convoluted sentence). The new version looks great - the flaws from the old version have been touched up along with the music, and the film's plot holds up surprisingly well.

And tonight, Teen Wolf is on AMC! Teen Wolf!

Oct. 31 is coming!

Is there any good night for a curse? Um...let me check my calendar. How's Thursday for you? Anyways, despite whatever nonsense scheduling advice Castlevania II: Simon's Quest might have to offer, Halloween is coming! I can't wait! I woke up today with the song "this is halloween" stuck in my head, and I downloaded and listened to the Mercury Theater's radio production of Bram Stoker's Dracula, which is available here for free. Now I kind of really want to watch that old cartoon version of Sleepy Hollow. Oh, this is my favorite time of year!

Update: Sometimes I do love the internet. Here are the two best parts of that same cartoon telling of the Headless Horseman, the song which tells the legend and the final chase scene, courtesy of Youtube. You can't reason with a headless man.

The Muse of dance has a birthday party

In my life I have met some very amazing people, and every once in a while someone comes along who is so creative and passionate in their art that they become a sort of Muse to those around them. Anne Koivunen, of whom I've spoken before, is one, and Lindsey Sherline has been inspiring me, and all those around her, for years.

And if Monday night was any indication, that list now has to include my salsa teacher. Monday's usual salsa night at Taj became her birthday party, and the night was a series of singers, dance performers, drummers, and others all marking her birthday. It was so much fun, and it was really something to see how so many creative people from different backgrounds came together to celebrate her.

I have to say, as though it weren't apparent already, that through all of the nonsense that's gone on in the past many months, my work with my salsa teacher has been great therapy and has really helped me make it through. Happy Birthday, Talia!

On the subjects of Freemasonry, salsa dancing, and Die Hard: The Puppet Musical

This past Saturday I attended a rare performance of Die Hard: The Puppet Musical!! If you liked the first Die Hard movie, you really owe it to yourself to see it acted out by puppets. The whole thing is totally, wonderfully, over-the-top ridiculous. The production's kinda sloppy, but in some strange way, that works. Puppets exploding, making friends, committing goofy acts of violence, falling in love, and singing funny songs...do you really need anything more?

On Tuesday, my salsa teacher was on the Today show! She participated in the Today show's version of Dancing with the Stars, which entailed her teaching Tiki Barber how to cha-cha. She did a great job, particularly considering how little time they had to work together. Just another reason I'm so proud to be her student!

And in my most important news, I passed my second degree test and am now a Fellow Craft (2nd degree) Mason. (Only one more degree to go.) Our lodge, being a very old-school lodge, handles the test differently, in a way that is more stressful and asks more of the candidates than other lodges. But I really think I got much more out of the experience because I was held to high expectations. In theory I'll take my third degree test in February.

No cancer for this kitty; International Talk Like a Pirate Day; the GRE is to fun as...?

Hooray! My sister's cat Bast does not have cancer, as was feared! Bast is a tremendously awesome cat who means a lot to my sister and her fiance, and, as you see below, totally comes equipped with an eye patch. Don't let the sweet (and a little dumb) exterior fool you. Piratecat is on to you.



I was going to post about international talk like a pirate day, but I was studying for the GRE and now it's the day after talk like a pirate day. The GRE is a weird thing. My princeton review book says, and I'm inclined to agree,that the GRE only tests your ability to take the GRE and nothing else. Not knowledge, not intelligence, just whether you can figure out what the test-makers were thinking when they wrote that question. That's it. So when the question asks...

Treaty of Ghent is to oxoglutarate dehydrogenase as:
a) badger is to footrace
b) schooner is to Batman
c)-12 is to lunchbox
d) Mischach is to Abednego

you know the answer is clearly (e) you are wasting time and money on a test your prospective neuroscience programs require you to take but don't really care about.

In other news, I don't want to presume anything, but I think this is about me. I even saw this person and everything! ("acrossed?") Man, this whole internet business kinda frightens me.

Except for this guy. He never frightens me.

Shakey Jake (????-2007)

I was in my head, and there only, as I strode down the street. Jaw clenched, more stress than usual - too much work, too little time, and too much juggling of science and theatre and a million other things. Too much in my head, though, to actually get anything done. And then, a tiny man hobbling just as fast in the opposite direction. A big, leopard-print, fur-collared coat. A straw hat. A guitar with only three strings. Large and unmistakable sunglasses. "I got to do my job," he said, happily, addressing me. "Ain't nobody else going to do my job but me!"
He passed by, and I couldn't help but laugh. It was suddenly so clear. He had his job, I had mine. I got back to work.

Shakey Jake passed away on Sunday. His job was, by all accounts, being Shakey Jake. A local icon like no other. Loved by his host city of Ann Arbor, and always happy to bid you a hearty hello or a simple, conspiratorial nod, like he knew what you were up to and he wanted you to know he approved. Did he actually know how to play that guitar? Where did he go when he wasn't on the street? How did he know what I needed to hear? Probably neither I nor the thousands of residents of Ann Arbor with similar stories of Jake will ever know. He was just Shakey Jake, and he did his job. Rest in peace, Jake.

Of particular interest to Luke, or anyone else who likes creepy space skeletons

I saw the band O'Death at a new artists showcase (for which my favorite radio station was kind enough to put me on the guest list) some months ago. They completely tore the place down - do you know how hard it is to get hipsters to dance? These guys were like what you'd get if the Manson family formed a band, and were incredibly fun to listen to. Well, they've finished their first music video, and here it is. (The claymation galley slaves are the best part, methinks.) Go watch it!

I love brooklyn (cont.d), Or, Is that giant snake monster sponsored by beer?

Woo, lord it does take me a long time to keep this thing up to date. My point being, the best event in all of NYC was held, for the 40th year in a row, on labor day a stone's throw from my place of living. And the West Indian Cultural Festival/Parade did not disappoint. They say somewhere between 3 and 4 million people attended! Some of the dance troupes had upwards of 200 members! It's really just amazing, and I know it couldn't happen anywhere else.

Help!

Someone last night left me a voicemail message saying "Hey, it's me," and explaining that their sister has to have surgery to remove pre-cancerous cells, and asking me to call. But they didn't say who they were, and I couldn't tell from the message! There was no record of a missed call, because my phone was off, so...if this was you, PLEASE CALL ME BACK AND LET ME KNOW!

For the millionth time, i LOVE brooklyn

(this is also one of two such posts glorifying my borough of residence that you'll find this weekend, for with monday comes the best event in NYC)

I went to Coney Island last night with a friend for the fireworks. Walking around you'd be hard-pressed not to crack a smile at the surreal joyfulness of it all - the games, the rides, the music, the food. It was a perfect night, weather-wise, for laying on the beach and watching the fireworks. And there, amidst the brightly-colored commotion in the sky and on the ground at Astroland, as we rose from the sand in the shadow of the monolithic parachute jump tower sitting silent nearby, some siren Brooklynite began to really belt out the Fugees' "Killing me Softly," at a Karaoke booth on the boardwalk. And I fell in love with Brooklyn all over again.

Batch update #72 - Laziness on a saturday

I am SO bad about keeping this thing updated! Things pile up and then you get posts like this one.

I flew home recently for a family reunion. It was a really nice time out at my uncle's apple orchard in Romeo, Michigan. He's had a lot of work done on the place since last I was there, and it looks great. Seeing the fam was, as always, re-energizing and calming all at the same time. I also cooked dinner with Hilary (as has become our tradition) and we made Opah.

I also have the pleasure of announcing that Sarah has bought a house with her boy Joey (who will be pictured here when blogger stops being stupid). The house is huge and they are completely renovating it (as if this girl didn't amaze me enough before). The parts that have been redone are like something out of a magazine. I'm so happy for her!

My old tango partner came to town recently, which was great fun. I got to take her out dancing with me at the usual monday night spot, and she really liked it.

Otherwise, things have been good. Work is work, I'm starting to jump through the hoops for my phd applications, and I've been dancing and cooking and running about.

A brush with greatness that could have ended in the Cobra Clutch

After a harrowing ride from a cab driver I'm pretty sure was drunk or on something (he drove backwards down the freeway part of the trip), I arrived at the airport this morning and ran into an old college friend, Marit Dewhurst (who played the receptionist in The American Superhero Applies for a Job). She was on her way to Seattle, and we were catching up as she lined up to board her plane. I happened to notice the person lining up behind her, and I quickly whispered to Marit, "Do you know who that is standing behind you?!" She didn't, so I told her. And she said, loudly, "Sergeant who?"

" Sergeant Slaughter!" I said. I broke my practice of never approaching celebrities, and said hello to him and shook his hand, and told him I was a big fan. The line started to move then, and Marit kept asking, "wait, who is that?" so that was about it. Afterwards, a young couple came up to me to ask if that was the Sarge they'd seen, so I was a little glad I wasn't the only one to be caught up in the nostalgia of simpler days and better pro wrestling!

EDIT: you know, looking at that wikipedia page, I see we share a birthday and a home town. Coincidence?

"Three hundred people living out in West Virginia/have no idea of all these thoughts that lie within you"

She said: "I'm thinking flashbacks. I want to show my past in flashbacks, very romantic and exciting, like a soap opera, with the pink border and everything, so that by comparison people can see how bleak my present is and how I have no future. What do you think?"

To which I replied: "That sounds amazing."

While I was really thinking: "Oh my god. This is some serious you-just-found-out-there's-no-santa-and-your-baby-bunny
-has-to-eat-sand kind of business."

Yep. Beautifully told stories to make you feel terrible and fortunate all at the same time can only mean one thing: another theatre workshop at Fountain House! I've been running these for a while now, but Wednesday's was particularly good. We had some new folks who seemed especially talented and creative - and who brought especially sad stories. It's really weird sometimes to try and match their excitement about telling these things. "Oh, abandoned by your family in an abusive hospital, you say? Forty-some shock treatments? Sure, we can stage that." Still, I am always reminded that their ability to survive all this crap and then be willing to get up and talk about it makes them a lot braver than I think I'd be.

Man, bunnies do not like sand.

This might have been the best weekend ever, Or, I guess this means we're not getting back together? (bwahahaha, i kid, i kid!)

I can't even hope to accurately convey how much fun I had this weekend. Susie Harter got married! Her wedding was an adorable celebration of the pure, hopeful love that can only exist between two such wonderful and caring people, and was set against the backdrop of an idyllic, pastoral setting. I really could not be more happy for Susie and Josh!


The wedding was held at a summer camp/resort in upstate New York, and involved a weekend full of campfires, canoeing, hiking, delicious food, dancing, dancing, and dancing. I got to see some folks from college I hadn't seen in a long time, and I met some great new people, too! And, in keeping with my previous post about my friends, I was very pleased to find the guest list for this incredible couple's wedding included a neuroscience phD candidate, a very laid-back physicist who slows down single atoms in the hopes of creating the world's most accurate atomic clock, a man who not only runs health services outreach to HIV positive ex-cons, but also studies the best method for doing so, a gentleman who councils small businesses on environmental sustainability, and many, many other such inspiring folks - all of whom were, even more importantly, as sweet and sincere as can be.

The reception for the wedding was like none other I have been to. It was a fantastic dance party which culminated, very late in the night, in this hilarious and yet also really cool interpretive contact improv dance to "total eclipse of the heart," involving all of the remaining friends and family. Very strange, very funny. Then on to another campfire!

And, even though I got about an hour's worth of sleep all weekend, I still managed to keep things rolling through a very foggy-minded monday to go salsa dancing that night with the incomparable Margaret Conway (pictured here in resplendent hat)!


Tuesday night I was convinced into going to see Bonnie and Clyde at McCarren Park with some friends, but sooner or later I'm going to need some sleep!

P.S. Even though our fling lasted a very short time back in the day, it's still odd to have another ex who's married. This is what, four or five now? One has a baby, for crying out loud, and another's pregnant. Not too much pressure to move things along.

This is the kind of world I want to live in

Last week there was a crazy huge dance party at the Brooklyn Museum for their First Saturday celebration. I haven't missed one of these in a while, and I'm glad that's the case, because they're always really fun. This week was a Pan-Carribean dance party held under the stars with yours truly and Marie the Swede, together with about 300 brooklynites dancing the night away. Tonight is "bollywood goes to brooklyn," an event which seems to have drawn its creative genesis from Symplex B's Gumnaam remixes.

And as if that wasn't enough joy in the world, behold! A giant LEGO man from the sea!

fun with downtime

The Perry Bible Fellowship


is pretty great.

Like the Supefriends, only more than seven, and no monkey

"Did you murder my father?"

Monica's father was killed in 1982 by poisonous chemicals he was exposed to while working at Hughes Research Laboratories. This is one of only ten or so facts she knew about her father prior to a roadtrip this summer. The destination? Finding out who her father was, and what actually happened to him.

Her tale is presented in "Reading the Water," a one-woman show that ran for only two nights this week at a small theatre space in Manhattan. The story is one of tremendous courage; a willingness to confront the past, and to, as one of her father's coworkers put it, "open up a very dark closet."

Monica's father was a hero, and she is so very much his child. When he wasn't working he was a volunteer search and rescue diver, renown for his ability to find anyone, even in the deepest darkest waters. After he became aware of his poisoning, he fought to protect those with whom he worked and tried to change the health conditions at Hughes. Monica has been a fighter, an unparalleled, whirling dervish of activism, someone who cares tremendously for the well being of others since long before she danced into my life.


I could not be more proud of Monica than I was after seeing her show. To confront all that she did, to ask the questions she asked...a young woman searching for her father:it's both tremendously inspiring and heartbreaking all at the same time. This is an old picture of Monica and I - a picture she titled, "a pair of sad scientists."



I think something that really struck me about her piece was that I realized that there was no doubt in me as to whether or not the Monica I know would take on such a difficult quest. There's a scene where she's boxing with the Hughes corporate goliath, and I realized that this was the Monica that had always been there, even in quiet moments, just under the surface.

This all got me thinking about the rest of my friends. A motley, eclectic, and, at times, degenerate bunch of folks though they may be, they are all insistent on change. None among them is so contented as to be inactive or cower away from the world. Be it to make better, more meaningful art, to change unjust laws or social conditions, to fight corruption or any other from a host of mildly Quixotic charges, my friends do not back down or shy away. Spotted, sure, our relationships have been, but there will always be a communion of passion and restlessness. And I love them for that.

Splendor in the garden of scientific delights, Or, spotshine of the sun-owled which?

I sometimes forget I have this blog, which brings me to the topic of today's post. While doing a literature search at work today I came across an hypothesis that has been kicked around, killed, and reborn several times over the last few decades. Called the "reconsolidation hypothesis," it states that when you recall a memory, there's a window of time wherein that memory becomes susceptible to erasure (either by drug treatment or, it seems, strong enough stimuli). There are even a few scientfic studies wherein the phenomenon is demonstrated. The debate continues about whether this hypothesis holds weight or not, but I find it fascinating to consider.

Take, for example, how important it can be to recall certain memories in times of crisis (for more well-developed examples of this, see Harry Potter books 1-7). These memories can provide great strength or comfort, but what if you could only revisit them once? Would people go around always trying to make new powerful memories to draw on? What if missing your dead wife actually made you forget her? Even now I think people have the power to reshape memories to give them the memory they need or fear most. I am constantly overwhelmed by the power of nostalgia in my recollections. We know so very little about memory!

(as an aside, I also love the mental image of one's memories being susceptible to the band Erasure. "who needs love like that!")

Now if only I could remember where I left my frozen cochlea slides...

Rest in Peace, Pere Rice

Pere Rice was the best teacher I've ever had. And I don't just say that because he spent our entire first day of French class freshman year teaching us to swear. Or because he made us learn the lyrics to the songs of his lady love of music, Edith Piaf, and his favorite poet, Jacques Prevert. No, more importantly Pere Rice was everything I love about old-school Jesuit education: he was tough, ridiculously smart (to the point where odd bits of information would fall out if you got him going in the right direction), witty, irreverant, and supremely dedicated to the idea that with hard work the boys at the University of Detroit Jesuit High School and Academy could become good men. Men for others, to be exact.

Pere Rice must have been in his eighties by the time he was teaching me. He was renowned as the midwest's oldest teaching jesuit, and I attended school with guys whose fathers and grandfathers had been taught by "le Pere."

Something that very few people know is how Pere Rice helped me through the hardest time in my days at The High. My best friend in junior year was also a student of Pere Rice's, and he had a nervous breakdown that led into a prolonged catatonic state, followed up with a terrifying bout of mania. This became a cycle of extremes. Things got especially tough for me when my friend's mother asked me what I thought she should do. Who was I to know? I couldn't understand what was happening to my friend, and I couldn't do anything about it. I went to Pere Rice for help. He told me everything he knew about my friend's condition, which was a great deal, and what I could do. The thing was, though, he said what he did with such a kind sadness in his voice, and I won't ever forget that. It was as though in his tone he was saying he was sorry my friend was going through what he was and sorry I had to deal with it and sorry we couldn't thereafter be the same way boys at that age at the High are supposed to be, just worried about girls and science tests and homework. But he laid it all out for me, didn't pull any punches, and showed me he had faith that I could handle the situation before me.

He knows I thought the world of him, and, I won't ever forget his faith in me. Rest in Peace, Pere.

"Rappelle-toi Barbara
Il pleuvait sans cesse sur Brest ce jour-la...
Quelle connerie la guerre..."

The 4th of July: America's Rooftop Spectacular

yep. everything seems to be in order here.

A Freemason, I.

My computer's been broken about a week (and also I've been busy with things like work and latin dancing 'til 2 a.m.), but I just couldn't put off writing about this any longer. As of last tuesday, I have been initiated in the ancient order of Free and Accepted Masons.

I think my sister Patience put it best when she said, "Part of why I'm so excited for you is that this is basically something you've wanted since you were about 10." And she's right. And what's even better? All of the build-up I've had in my mind about this event was totally correct. In addition to being tremendously moving and inspiring, the ceremony is full of crazy secret stuff: secret codes, handshakes, and everything else you could possibly ask for. I can't give you the details, but suffice it to say if this is any indication of what's in store for me in freemasonry, I couldn't have made a better choice.

Edit, 7/4: Yep, just like this. Only totally different. More than one friend has also admitted to assuming the Stonecutters' episode of the Simpsons has given them an accurate portrayal of the Masons. And on that I cannot comment.

On the subjects of Martin Walsh, the wonders of Canada, and the beginning of the end for my favorite place in NYC

The arb show this year was the Tempest, and while there were some good things and some bad things about this production, what was outstanding was the performance of Prospero by one Martin Walsh. I - and many others - have been waiting for him to take this role for a long time. And it was worth the wait.

While I was home for the arb show, my mom and sister hilary and I took a trip to some of our old haunts in Canada. And while anyone reading this should find the following as no surprise, I LOVE CANADA.

Do you want to see pictures of my childhood? Well, here you go. Most of the images I recall from that time include canada from the backseat of a car, and a few choice locations like the ice cream parlor in Amherstburg, (what's left of) the Copper Kettle, fields upon fields, Duffy's, the barn with the apple, etc. I love Canada. I love the people, the values, the comedy on TV there, everything.















Last but not least, I attended this year's Mermaid Parade. This may or may not be the last one, because, as you may have heard, Coney Island is set to be developed. I don't know what the extent of the demolition/building will be, but things will be different. So while I had the chance, I took in the parade, the freak show, and the beach with some friends.