No matter what side you happen to fall on when it comes to global warming; whether you ascribe to Ian Plimer’s claim:

Over the past 250 years, humans have added just one part of CO2 in 10,000 to the atmosphere. One volcanic cough can do this in a day.

Or whether you ascribe to Open Mind, this is a clever ad that makes me want to swim in search of submerged cities.  They’re down there, at the bottom of lakes and oceans, waiting to be found.

Tags: ::ADVERTISING::, clever ad, environmental art, environmental issues, global warming, green, pic

A superhero.

No, scratch that.  Superhero’s have way too much responsibility.  Spiderman taught me that.

If I could choose any job in the world, it would have to be one with little to no responsibility.  At least that is the way I feel today.  Tomorrow things could change.  Tomorrow I may be willing to take on the responsibilities of a superhero.

But today, if I could choose any job in the world, it would be a marathon runner.  Not just someone who runs marathons, but someone who consistently places high enough to get endorsed and paid.

I could see myself running 26.2 miles multiples times a year.  During the off season, I would run fartleks on the beach mixed with long distance runs, all on my toes since I am a toe striker.

I’d eat well.  I’d sleep well.  I’d be tanned.  I’d have strong lungs, strong heart.

And I’d truly understand the meaning of the mantra:

Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.

Tags: ::SPORTS::, how to run, in search of truth, mantra, marathon, pain is inevitable suffering is optional, running, toe striker

Simon & Garfunkel

::Watch the video while you read the lyrics::

Tags: ::MUSIC:: Videos & Lyrics, benjamin braddock, folk rock, golden god, pop, simon & garfunkel, sounds of silence, swimming pool, symbolism, the graduate, video clip

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched The Graduate.  Oddly enough, it’s not a movie I set out to watch, but rather one that finds me.  Like last night after dinner for example, Benjamin Braddock and Mrs Robinson found me again through no effort of my own.  As if I were fated to watch The Graduate for the umpteenth time.

You’d think not owning a tv and not having the film on DVD would be enough to keep me safe from its 105 minute run time.  But no.  Yesterday I was fated to watch it, and nothing would get in its way.

Simon & Garfunkel would work their acoustic arithmetic.

Mrs Robinson would ask Benjamin, “Would you like me to seduce you?”

Elaine would cry under the stripper’s pendulous propeller breasts.

Benjamin would kiss Elaine and he would swing the crucifix to make their great escape.

Fate.  My fate.

But what would strike me as the lynchpin this time around would be the role of the swimming pool.

Keep it clean.

Tags: ::FILM::, benjamin braddock, crucifix, elaine, golden god, in search of truth, movie review, mrs robinson, simon & garfunkel, swimming pool, symbolism, the graduate

Every morning when I go to work, and every night when I come home, there is something guaranteed to happen on the PATH train that I wish someone would have warned me about. No, it’s not panhandling. I saw much more of that on New York subways. Panhandling is refreshingly rare on the PATH Trains. And no, it’s not crazy people talking to themselves, twitching, or otherwise showing signs of withdrawal. Again, there’s way more of that on the New York subways, and I used to think I was so lucky to be getting away from that until I realized what I got in return: Farting.

I’m not sure if it’s the diet of people in Jersey or the different mix of cultures from what I had seen in New York, but there is way more gas released on the PATH train than on the subway – at least comparing the Newark train to the NYC 1, 2 and 3. I’m not saying it was unheard of on the Upper West Side train (a longer ride, for me), but it’s a bi-daily occurrence on the PATH. Maybe there’s a shift in air pressure as the train goes under the river that causes toxic gases to want to escape. I don’t know; I’ve never timed it. I just know that twice a day I’m going to be on a train when an ass-bomb goes off.

I remember when New York banned boom boxes on the subways. The fact that I remember boom boxes is embarrassing enough, but I also remember the campaign against them. I also remember the campaign against taking up more than one seat. Seriously, people use to put their feet up on an available seat just because they didn’t want someone sitting next to them. So the police started handing out fines. Granted, those fines sometimes reached a pretty ridiculous stage, like fining someone for putting their bag on the seat next to them – on an empty train. Still, these campaigns served a well-intentioned purpose: to create common consideration among subway riders.

I want something similar on the PATH. I want a no-fart rule, a ban on ass-gas, a stop to the stink. I’m not suggestion fines, but at least some signage to let people know that it’s just not acceptable. I often wonder if they know that their shit really does stink.

::CC also writes at Lowbrow Life::

Tags: ::ESSAYS ABOUT REAL LIFE::, ::HUMOR::, commute, new jersey, no farting, nyc, observational humor, path train, port authority trans-hudson