Let Me be the First to Welcome our new Robot Monkey Overlords

Have we learned nothing from movies like Planet of the Apes, Monkeyshines, I Robot, Terminator and Virus? Today in the news is a story about a monkey that can control a robot arm WITH ITS BRAIN (see the youtube clip here).

I had a conversation about this two years ago with Jay Platt at The Black Sheep Pub. You see, I wanted a helper monkey, but we nixed that plan because monkeys will learn our behavior, evolve, take over the world, and end up enslaving mankind. So then I wanted a robot, then I remembered that robots, despite Asimov's Three Laws, will take over in order to protect us, or decide that we're the enemy or even worse, a virus and will try to kill us all. Then I speculated about a robot helper monkey, but considering the first two arguments, this had to be the worst idea ever.

I now know how the world will end, not with a bang or a whimper, but with monkeys using robot technology to take over the planet, using us for spare parts, and enslaving those they do not kill.

We're all doomed. Thanks again, science.

Ever Wonder What's Inside Your Cellphone?

One of my favorite sites to check out is Geekologie as it nourishes my inner nerd which is where I found the above clip.

Momorial Day

Every Memorial Day weekend for the past three years I climb aboard a Bieber bus at the diesel fumed hell-pit known as Port Authority on 42nd and trek the three hours to my ma's home in Leesport, PA to help her throw a party. I like getting out of the city and living off the grid for a weekend. I shut off my phone and only check messages twice a day, and don't even go online to look at my email. At night, I slip out of the house to commune with the stars while sipping a cold beer and enjoying a smoke. Invariably, I see a shooting star at one point or another over the weekend.

I have become legend in Berks County for my cocktails. When the guests arrived, one commented "Oh God, not you." It seems the martinis I made him last year left a blank spot in his memory when it came to how he got home. This year the drink of choice was The Patio, something I concocted at the Patio Lounge before they got their liquor licence. I mix equal parts Soju (Japanese vodka distilled from Barley) with Framboise (lambic beer fermented with raspberries), add a splash of seltzer, a nice lemon wedge and you have a refreshing summertime drink.

I like this tradition, and time with my mom without my other siblings around. I get to return the favor of all those meals she made for me growing up by letting her relax as I tend the grill, get her guests tipsy, and take care of the bulk of the cleaning so that by midnight, when the last guest leaves full, there's not much left to do but wrap up some food, turn off the lights, and sleep soundly in "der bunker," the sensory deprivation tank of a bedroom in the basement.

Technologically Twitterpated

I admit it, I've become a luddite when it comes to new(er) technology. 7 years ago I tried the IM and found it way too immediate and ended up canceling my Yahoo Chat account after a week of not doing any work at all because my machine wouldn't stop chirping from people wondering where I went and why I didn't reply. Email is way more my speed. Then, last summer I committed Myspace suicide because I wasn't updating enough and everyone was emailing me on that account (which has a horrible email interface) instead of emailing me at my home email account. It got to the point that one friend thought something horrible happened to me because I didn't update my page in 2 months, he didn't have my current email addy (which was posted on the top of my profile) and he inputted my cell phone # into his cell wrong so he reached out to all my friends to get in touch.

Well, here I am now, I've embraced the blogging, the texting, and have now heard that Twitter is all the rage with the kids these days for mini-blogging so I started a twitter site or whatever its called. SO if you like living vicariously through me, sign up and read my occasional updates which I'll probably make on my cell while waiting for someone who's running late.

Earlier today I even made it onto Linked In. Next stop: Facebook.

I guess it could be worse. I met a publisher who has web pages and his emails printed out for him, and dictates his response to an assistant who has to add to the bottom of his corresponances "Dictated but not read."

Fanning the Flames of the Stroller Wars-A Chronology

What was supposed to be only 15 minutes of fame has, as Bill McCue puts it, "more legs than a Caterpillar."

Over three years ago, I got fed up with Park Slope parents bringing their kids into the Patio Lounge when I was working my Sunday night shift. They parked the strollers in the middle of the bar, making it tough to walk around, and let their children run around unsupervised on the concrete floor that had broken glass on it. The straw that broke my back was when four of my regular Sunday night patrons left because one parent didn't have the courtesy to take their crying baby outside the bar and hush it. Well, I had enough so in a drunken rage I penned The Stroller Manifesto and banned babies, and strollers from the bar when I was working. As you can imagine, parents were outraged.

This, set off a chain of events that began with a story in the local Park Slope paper by Smart Mom, which then was picked up by Salon.com, which led to a two page spread in The New York Post, and topped off with me on Fox and Friends talking about why toddlers don't need to be in bars (let's call them tea toddlers). After all the hubbub, I got a day job, and Brooklyn daddys mourned my loss from the fight.

Since that time, I've become known as a Modern Martin Luther in Brooklyn and the website Take Back the Island has named me their Patron Saint, others have not as nice things to say about me (just see the pages of comments on that salon article).

So this year, the Stroller Wars continue. Back in February, my local bar Union Hall attempted to ban babies and strollers to limited effect as reported by the New York Times so I countered by penning "Stroller Wars," the 11 Central Ave radio drama that aired on Chicago Public Radio last month. Last week, Slackjaw's latest article received historical backlash from the stroller set so yesterday I reported on it for Galleycat .

Will this ever go away? Probably not. Especially since I keep bringing it up. But there you have it, the history of a controversy.

Update December 2009. Smartmom at the Brooklyn paper wrote about the decade that changed parenting forever. At number three (with a bullet) is me.

Old Stories from The Weird Crap

Well, you might not know this but I invented a hot sauce called Wasabassco, and just for fun Bill Morton and I wrote the history behind it that you can read here on The Weird Crap.

Morton, now known as Doc Wasabassco, is running one of the best Burlesque shows in town and you can buy the fine wasabi red pepper sauce from him next time you go.

Another Weird Crap story of mine which is truly disturbing, Bacon Becomes Her, horrified some of my friends so much, they suggested that I burn it, delete it, and never let it see the light of day. Better read this one at night.

mmm, bacon. I bet it tastes great with wasabassco on it.