black hats, pt.3: still interested?

personally I identify as human first, jew second. while I appreciate the perks of living in a super-insulated socialist urban colony, I don’t think they’d be into my rule bending antics. so this isn’t the community for me, probably not you either I’m guessing. but it does bring up important issues.

what does it mean to be part of the ad community? do these folks care about us personally, or are they just casual acquaintances? connections? it makes me nervous to think about. all the back stabbing, shit talking, shady behavior in this industry. what if we all took care of each other? that’s my plan. look out for people along the path that feel the same way. otherwise life gets very lonely, and very scary. us adcenter kids get a head start on the game. whether by luck or by design we have a 100 kids who care about each other, and 100 more on the way. something worth thinking about next time you feel alone.

god bless adcenter.
and god bless the good ol' USofA!

black hats, pt.2: what's in it for me?

when it comes to rules, I’m torn.
I see the benefit: by creating a box to play in we allow ourselves new freedoms. example, we can drive 55 mph on a two lane highway with other cars speeding at us only feet away. because of the line in the road its a completely comfortable experience. on the other hand, I quite enjoy breaking rules; crossing over the line into someone else’s safe-zone to pass at 100+ mph.

rules help define community. they set expectations. they shape our reality. orthodox jews live in an alternate reality. they will never go hungry, be lonely, or lose direction. the community is always there. need a job? someone knows someone. need a couch? there’s a basement where people drop furniture they don’t need so others can use it. having trouble making ends meet? anonymous free grocery service.

and then there’s shabbat. everyone walks to synagogue so everyone lives around each other. this makes for a pleasant saturday afternoon. families are out moseying to and from the park en mass. it’s quite a nice sight. everyone knows each other, says hello. you get invited in for lemonade. kids chase each other. parents catch up on the weeks gossip. just how you’d imagine a real neighborhood being.

black hats, pt.1: the dark side

so you think you can hack it in the wild wild world of orthodox jewery? well you may find a few unexpected surprises. living the frum life may be all the rage, but there are a few hidden regulations down in the fine print that may work to cramp your steez. ahem.

for starters, dress modestly. get yourself a hat. cover up them locks, men and women alike. and cover up those sleeves and legs. skin is sexy, and sexy is a no no. if you wanna' go wild, get yourself some crocs for the weekend, black only please. do make babies. lots of them. so many that giant people-mover vans will litter the streets. make the babies with your spouse. don't have one? no worries, these things can be arranged. in the kitchen, keep two sets of everything. dishes, sinks, microwaves color coded blue for milk, red for meat. then wait at least 3 hours between eating one or the other.

friday evening through saturday evening is a whole other bag of tricks (shabbat). make sure to turn lights on before sundown, pre-tear piles of toilet paper, cook food. because as soon as that sun drops friday evening no working, no carrying, no playing, no. you can have guests over, but single guys are not allowed around single gals, unless they're officially courting. and you must pray. after every meal, when you get up, when you go to bed, when something good happens and something bad, on shabbat you walk to the synagogue and pray with other people (men and women separated of course) and then every other week there's another holiday to pray about. you get really good at praying.

why do perfectly sane people subject themselves to these torturous circumstances? is it a gang? once in, in for life? is it too late to change my mind? stay tunned for black hats pt.2: what's in it for me?

lil'bastard

today is a slow day at the strawb. this is a picture of a tazmanian devil.
it's what comes up when you goog josh kobrin. you should goog yourself, let me know what sort of cheeky pics come up. wicked awesome.
updates:

eb davis and jill lin

rock that casbah

lookin' for a good ol' timey war flick? one of those history repeats itself types? well try the battle of algiers (1965) on for size. especially if you think french people are stinky. 'cause they are. all of them.

it strikes me as eerie foreshadowing of every colonial v. gorilla conflict to happen since then, iraq part 2 included. it's brutal. it's honest. it doesn't spend much time on sissy subplots or sexy co-stars. just reel to reel wet hot revolutionary mayhem. my kinda' flick.

what? you have a car in NYC?!! not for long you crazy fool.

not a car. a race car. duh. one of the hidden benefits of having an hour long train commute to the straawb every morning is having a place to park my bucket at night. and I gotta' tell you, driving in the city, well, it's da'bomb. a sea of yellow mercenaries paid to move people from one place to the next. and some cops. and me. all fighting to squeeze at high speed into small spaces, advance position, beat the lights.

well all was fun and games.

did you know it's illegal in the state of new york to hold a cell phone whilst operating a motor vehicle? NYPD knows. and now I know. I was on the telly with ms. jillian (sorry I had to hang up) and a cop told me to pull over. I considered my options, and not pulling over made the patty a wee bit nervous. he sent a gaggle of beat cops after me. who, at the next red light, politely demanded I pull the vehicle over. but I was in a hurry! "I don't really have the time," I told the officer who's mouth was foaming at my window. I guess he meant business?

welp, no insurance, the car isn't registered, nor titled. hell, it's a racecar! I was wearing my safetybelt, and that must have bode heavily on the hearts of the jr. swat patrol. rather than confiscate my wheels or tie my shoelaces together they were proper gentlemen; sent me on my way with a handful of yellow confetti (cough*tickets*cough) and a smile.
I <3 N Y.

big can o'bullshit.

be enormous. you should. shouldn't you? whatever, as long as we're authentic to our target, the 'pack male.' but what does it mean to be enormous? is it Crock Dundee? that guy was pretty bigtime. or is it that kid that cut his own arm off with a pocket knife when it was trapped under a boulder? pretty f'n enormous. or is it Ferris Buler? that guy lives enormous for sure. no, it's none of the above, and at the same time all of the above. regardless, our task is to encourage the packmale to be more enormous, and even give him the resources to do so. but not really. we actually just want to poke fun at being enormous. because we've decided there's something funny about being enormous. but we also want to encourage enormosity. whatever. good luck asshole.
being enormous.