Good Joke / Bad Joke

Good Joke

Two guys at a bar:

Guy One: Don’t you hate it when you make a Freudian slip?

Guy Two: What’s that?

Guy One: Well, just the other day, I was at the airport buying a plane ticket, and the woman behind the counter had the most beautiful breasts. I meant to ask for two tickets to Pittsburgh, but instead I said I wanted two pickets to Titsburg.

Guy Two: Oh, yeah, that has happened to me. Why just the other day at breakfast with my wife, I meant to say “Dear, could you pass me some more coffee,” but instead I said “You stupid bitch, you’ve ruined my life!!!”‘

Bad Joke

Q. Why do chicken coops have two doors?

A. Because if they had four, they’d be chicken sedans.

|  
April 7, 2002

ruined for life

Admittedly, I’ve always been a bit of an audiophile. I listen to a lot of music, and with so many years of playing myself, I’m fairly particular about accuracy of sound. Still, about a week ago, I worried I might have gone completely over the the deep end when I found myself dropping $300 for a pair of Etymotic Research earphones. Since they arrived this morning, however, I’m convinced this could be some of the best money I’ve spent.

Mainly, Etymotic makes very high end hearing aids, and their earphones are an extension of that technology. Tiny flanged earbuds, they fit more like earplugs than traditional in-the-ear headphones, sitting deep in the ear canal and sealing out background noise (25db isolation). But what sets them apart is their sound – without a doubt, the most richly detailed, deliberately accurate that I’ve ever heard reproduced. Better, in fact, than speaker systems I’ve used which sell for nearly 50 times the price. In the words of a colleague who gave the Etymotics a whirl: “holy shit!” Or, further: “it sounds like the music is happening inside my head. You’ve ruined me for life. Now I’ll have to buy a pair of these and I’ll never again be able to listen to my Sony’s.”

Come on, you know you want a pair. Sure they’re ridiculously priced. But, after all, it’s only money.

|  
April 5, 2002

the sultan of swing

Inebriated but happy I return home, having been permanently offered the jazz trumpet chair of the big band I gigged with this evening. Like, dig.

|  

liquor – swing’s secret ingredient

Apropos the last post, a quick story on liquor and big band jazz:

The year is 1938, and a young Doc Cheatham (trumpet) and Chu Berry (tenor) are on tour with Cab Calloway. Each night they get rip roaring drunk, play a swinging show until the early hours of the morning, and then pass out on the train until they wake up in the next city on the tour and repeat the cycle. After nearly a year, the two decide it just isn’t healthy for them to drink like this, so they make a pact to quit. While the rest of the band is boozing it up that evening, they stick to water. They play the show, and afterwards, Cab calls them backstage. “I see you boys played the show sober for a change,” says Cab. “Yes sir,” they tell him. Cab pauses for a moment, then says: “Well never do that shit again. Or you’re fired.” The next evening, they drink like fishes.

|   
April 4, 2002

harlem nocturne

I’m headed way uptown to play a big-band gig this evening. Mostly Thad Jones / Mel Lewis charts, with a touch of Ellington and Basie for good measure. I haven’t played with a large jazz group for nearly eight months, so it could be a little rough. Time to drink.

|  

fortune smiles

Or, an example of my semi-charmed life, wherein I essentially Ferris Bueller my way through and it all somehow works out in my favor.

Setting: A Duane Reade drug store in Midtown. I am at the counter, ready to purchase a can of shaving cream and a roll of paper towels. It is 7:08pm; the drugstore supposedly closed at 7:00pm.

Girl frantically runs up to the counter, sun tan lotion in hand.

Woman behind the counter: We’re closed.

Girl: But I leave on vacation tomorrow morning – couldn’t you ring in just one more thing?

Woman behind the counter: I said, we’re closed. [Gesturing towards me] He’s the last one.

Me: She can take my spot.

Woman behind the counter: [Momentarily stunned by the sight of a New Yorker acting kindly] Well…

Girl: [Profusely] Thank you!

Me: [Noticing girl is extremely attractive] Really, it’s not a problem.

Woman behind the counter: [Having regained composure] I guess I could check out both of you.

Me: [To hot girl, feebly attempting humor] We’re lucky; normally they turn into pumpkins at the stroke of seven.

Woman behind the counter: [Saving me from making further stupid Cinderella jokes] Hey, you two make a cute couple. I think it’s fate you both ended up here at the same time. [To me] You should ask her out.

Me: [Embarrassed laughter]

Hot Girl: [Expectant look]

Me: [Suddenly even more awkward] Actually, I would love to take you out for drinks…

Hot Girl: Absolutely! [Jotting down her phone number on a blank prescription form found discarded at the next register]

Me: [Still somewhat shocked by this turn of events] By the way, I’m Joshua…

[Girl and I converse further as we leave the Duane Reade and walk for a couple of blocks in the same direction. We have established a date for next week by the time our paths diverge. I spend the rest of the evening smiling like an idiot and walking on clouds.]

Fin.

|  
April 2, 2002

here to pump… you up

I spend a fair amount of my time traveling, and like many have remarked the world’s increasing homogenization. Around each corner now stands a McDonalds, a Starbucks, a Gap. And, increasingly, a GNC. That’s right – while the Gap empire consists of nearly 4,000 stores worldwide, General Nutrition Centers trumps the khaki king with a whopping 5,000 stores. And, unlike the vast majority of the US-headquartered retail behemoths, GNC is actually entirely owned by Dutch conglomerate Royal Numico.

Indeed, wherever its point of origin, GNC seems well poised to take over the world, at least vitaminically. Which is odd, as the stores seem to fly under our collective cultural radar. Most people, I suspect, would be more than a bit shocked to discover GNC overshadows the Gap in terms of presence. But once you first notice GNC’s proliferation, as I did about a year back, you can’t help but see those big red letters literally everywhere you turn.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be overly surprising, considering Body for Life’s multi-year stint on the bestseller lists, MetRx’s heavy sports arena advertising, and society’s increasing fascination with six-packed abs and pumped pecs. In fact, I myself venture into the GNC around the corner every few months to pick up a box of Balance Bars, which I keep in my desk for mid-day or late-night snacking.

Each time I head into a GNC, however, I’m caught a bit off guard. First, the employees themselves never strike me as particularly fit or robust. “This WeightGain 8000 has worked wonders for me,” I’ll hear a marathon-runner type intone. And I have to wonder, if the guy looks that emaciated now, how exactly did he look before he started ‘bulking up’? Worse, though, are the customers, who by and large look downright sickly. They whip out their GNC Gold Cards, plunk down a few hundred dollars for several tubs of scientifically named powders (‘tri-oxy-methyl-antipaunch’) and plod wheezingly out the door, apparently out of breath from the exertion of standing upright.

|  

i pity the foo’

“The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days a year.”
— Mark Twain

A note for dull readers confused by the prior post: No, I’m not actually going to become a secret agent. That was an April Fools joke. In truth, I’m going to become Batman.

|  
April 1, 2002

a small job change

Most of my friends know I have a long-standing fascination with James Bond films. Many are also aware that, while at Yale, I interviewed for and was offered internships at the CIA and NSA. At the time, as I was running my own company, I was unable to take either job. However, during this first year out of college, I’ve been doing some serious soul-searching, and have realized that my interest in the field of diplomatic intelligence is still quite strong.

Because of that, about three months back, I contacted the CIA’s CST division-head here in New York. He was tremendously helpful in setting up interviews and the battery of tests required, and provided a lot of guidance as to the reality of working in intelligence. Two weeks ago, the time invested paid off, as I was offered the job of Operations Officer, Technology Specialty. On the one hand, I was thrilled, as a field agent job was exactly what I had hoped to qualify for; on the other, I wasn’t entirely sure that I was ready to put my tech and film careers on hold, if even temporarily. Additionally, I’ve really enjoyed living here in New York, and as an Operations Officer I would have to relocate to Washington, D.C., with likely extended periods of stay in foreign countries as well.

After careful consideration and discussion with several of my mentors, I’ve decided to accept the job. While I’ve lost a lot of sleep in the decision, I’m confident that it’s the right choice for me at this point in my life. Most likely, I’ll only be doing it for a two to three year period, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, and I figure now is the best possible time, before I sink my roots too deeply in any location.

In any case, I’ll continue working in my current jobs through the end of July, with an August 15th start date at the CIA. I’ll be posting additional details over the next few weeks, but look forward to discussing this with friends, family, and any interested online readers in the meantime.

|