So I haven't posted in a while. But I mean, when you spend your whole day writing ... it's like that early Friends episode where Rachel's interested in the gynecologist, but he doesn't reciprocate. She asks him why, and the gynecologist asks her what she does for a living. When Rachel says she works at a coffee shop, he asks, "Do you ever have those days where you say, 'If I have to see one more cup of coffee...'?" So that's one issue here.

Another reason is, I live in the fucking desert - not exactly a lot to report, outside of work. (Tomorrow's Coachella Music and Arts festival isn't a bad start)

Hey, Goodfellas has been on HBO at least 642 times this week and I can now recite the entire movie more accurately than Swingers, which says something since Goodfellas is about an hour longer.

In that spirit, Let's give out honorary Bill Simmons-esque Goodfellas Awards this week. Let's get right to it:



"Paulie may have moved slow, but it was only because Paulie didn't have to move for anybody."

To Phil Jackson, stoically sitting courtside as the Lakers stunningly pull together as a team unit and put the Suns on the ropes. Who knows how far this team goes in the playoffs this year. Maybe they win it all, maybe they don't.

But with every "W" Phil sure makes Red Auerbach look more and more like a sad, bitter, poor-sport of an old fart.



"In this day and age, what the fuck is this world coming to? I can't believe this, prejudice against - a Jew broad - prejudice against Italians."

To the "undocumented workers" if you're a supporter, or the "illegal aliens" if you're a hater, and the upcoming boycott on May 1. BTW, any time a writer covers immigration, they always get the requisite email from at least one reader who's pissed at how you referred to the immigrants. "Undocumented/Illegal/Worker/Immigrant/Alien" ... it's a touchy subject, and we're really backed against a corner. You should see some of the mail people send - this situation's really gonna come to a head, and it's not gonna be pretty.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go play Paul Revere and cover my Minuteman night shift...


"Who the hell do you think you are? Frankie Valley or some kinda big shot??"

To Kanye West, who delighted all of us Coachella-goers by joining the lineup in the 11th hour. Unfortunately, he picked the same goddamn time slot as My Morning Jacket. Who the hell do you think you are, Kanye? Before this debacle, there were no excruciating schedule conflicts. I can't believe our entertainment reporter didn't include this in his article.


"..."

"..."

"Now go home and get your fucking shine box."

After the bang-up job we did with Iraq, somehow I'm not optimistic about our diplomatic efforts with Iran and their nuclear ambitions. I think Tommy's attempts to make nice with Billy Batts will prove more successful than Condi friggin Rice talking to Mahmood Ahmadinejad. I just don't like where this is heading, at all...


"When they found Carbone in the meat truck, he was frozen so stiff it took them three days to thaw him out for the autopsy."

To my apartment manager, who still hasn't turned on the building's goddamned AC. I swear, with the mercury rising out here, some nights you watch Carbone all chilled and frosted in that meat truck and you find yourself envying a guy hanging from a meathook...


"Can't even get decent food. Right after I got here I ordered some spaghetti with marinara sauce and I got egg noodles and ketchup."

To the Italian place from the other night.


"Yeah, you were always fuckin' late, you'd be late for your own fuckin' funeral."

and

"And Jimmy Two-Times, who got that nickname because he said everything twice, like - 'I'm gonna go get the papers get the papers.'"

To print media. I actually drafted a post on this but then decided not to pull the trigger, after a recent editorial meeting at work, where we sat through a presentation on "the next 100 years" of the company and new media. 'Kind of reminded me of the various J-school discussions we used to have about the future of newspapers, and the discussions that presently float on our alumni listerv. If we're smart and keep up with the technology, then the decline of physical newsprint doesn't necessarily equal the decline of newspapers. I look forward to multi-media ... but there's still an important role for newspapers in journalism, sort of how the NY Times is "The Newspaper of Record."

Multi-media - Web updates, emails, RSS feeds, podcasts - there's so much potential for media "fragmentation" with these new platforms. Consumers have so much more control over the flow of information, which is a double-edged sword. Witout newsprint, they're not forced to encounter headlines and articles they otherwise would read. We lose a lot of the shared community - we're not speaking the same language through the same newspapers, and we only retreat further into our predisposed ideologies and political leanings. Anyways...


"Is this the superintendent? Yes, sir, I would like you to know that you have a whore living in 2-R! Rossi, Janice Rossi!"

I don't think my morning newspaper delivery guy's name is Janice Rossi, but he sure is a whore. I come home the other night and there's a note on the building's front door, complete with a security cam picture of the guy carrying a framed picture down the hallway. The note reads, "This is The [God's Country East] Sun delivery man stealing a hallway portrait. We have changed the door code, and the new code is under your door."

As someone who writes for said paper, I felt strangely embarrassed, and even a little pissed - did the apartment manager really have to mention the paper by name? Couldn't he have just been "generic delivery guy"? In any case, I don't think he's gonna be part of the company's next 100 years.


"To us, those goody goody people who worked shitty jobs for bum paychecks and took the subway to work everyday, worried about their bills were dead. They were suckers - they had no balls."

To you, fair reader. Yeah that's right, you heard me. you wanna piece of me, huh? huh? You tawking to me?

...Whoops, wrong flick.



"I said, 'what are you still doing here? I thought I told you to go fuck your mother.' BEENG-POW!"

To Kobe and Steve Nash, the most unlikely pair of trash-talkers since Heather Locklear and Denise Richards.


"Alright so he got shot in the foot. What is it, a big fucking deal?"

To my ingrown toenail this week. Especially after shooting hoops Thursday - you can hardly tell I'm limping!


"I got enough to worry about getting whacked on the street! I gotta come home for this?! I should fucking kill you!"

To George W. Bush, appointing Tony Snowe as Scott McClellan's replacement for Press Secretary. Now, this should be the nail on the coffin for Fox News, officially blowing the lid off the "fair and balanced" "no-spin" zone. That aside, I'm still in shock the administration hired someone who's actually had the audacity to lob criticism at the President. Not much, but still... For these guys, that's incredible - someone who hasn't consistently been in lock step with their policies. Press secretary? I can't wait to see how Snowe stacks up to Ari Fleisher's bully and McClellan's bullshit. If nothing else, it'll be entertaining.


"There's something quite unreasonable going on here: Jimmy's being an unconscionable ball-breaker. ... I didn't agree to three points above the big. What am I, fucking nuts? C'mon!"

To my grad school loans, which are fast pproaching. ...You mean they seriously expect me to pay it all back? Really? Quick, I gotta find the equivalent to burning down the Tikki Lounge before they actually hold me to all this goddamn debt. For all I know Northwestern's gonna sell my debt to Jimmy Conway.



"What do you do?"

"I'm in Construction ... I'm a union delegate."

To Bill Walton, calling Laker games for ESPN and doing the worst, most piss-poor job of hiding his personal loyalties in the history of sports-casting. During the recent Shaq/Kobe glory days, Walton used to call against the Lakers. But now there's his son Luke in royal purple and gold, dishing passes and blowing layups, and there's Bill going out of his way to criticize Luke's every move on national TV, telling the audience "YES HE'S MY SON BUT YOU JUST WATCH - I WILL NOT SHOW HIM ANY FAVORABLE TREATMENT." Me thinks the queen doth protest too much.

But then? Bill turns around and praises the Lakers' brilliant play - even when they're down three points. Thank god I'm not a Suns fan - by now I would've suffered a stroke and a heart attack, simultaneously. I would be drooling out of the paralyzed left side of my mouth.

It's always good when you're rooting for the Lakers, baby. Anyhow, I'm off to Coachella manana. 'Should be good times.