Briefs Archives
Heard on the radio: “When you’re at the store, pick up a shamrock and support muscular distrophy.”
Uh, no, that’s OK. I don’t think MD really needs to be supported, you know? I’ve always kinda been against it, myself …
OK, I want whoever pissed off the weather gods to apologize right now.
A few days ago it seemed like spring was on its way: the sun was shining, the breeze was warm, I even heard birds chirping.
Now some unholy form of precipitation is being crapped down upon our heads. Sure, through a window it looks so picturesque — gentle little flakes, floating out of the night sky, refracting the street lights in pleasing patterns. It’s a lie. The stuff pouring down actually is comprised of malicious ice fragments, propelled by an angry wind deep into the epidermis of folks just trying to get home for the evening.
And what’s the deal with umbrellas? I haven’t seen this anywhere else, but in New York, people pull out umbrellas whenever anything starts falling on them. Maybe that’s why people get killed when chunks of buildings start raining down; they pull out umbrellas and think that will do something.
Really, you know, they’re just about as effective with snow as they are with building blocks.
Maybe that’s why the weather turned bad. The gods aren’t upset; they just enjoy watching the poor mortals try to cope.
Continuing the tiger theme:
I think I’ve written some good ledes in my time, but I’ve never been able to come up with the stark simplicity found here: “A young Chinese tiger keeper has been mauled to death after apparently trying to defecate on one of his big cats.”
Beautiful.
Crouching tiger, hidden … eh … tabby?
Now remind me again: what happens if the groundhog goes nuts from all the attention, breaks away from its keepers and goes on a drug-and-violence-filled crime spree through the streets of Manhattan? Does that mean I can pack away my earmuffs sooner?
Dang it, I didn’t get any invitations.
I noticed the date last night before going to bed and realized that it was the anniversary both of the day Rome made peace with the Vandals and of the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia. (OK, I actually only knew it was the first one; I found out the second when I checked one of those day in history sites. It also, by the by, was the day that Charles I, in 1628, called his third Parliament, and then, in 1647, was deposed and, in 1649, beheaded.)
Anyway, I expected there to be parties — to be singing and dancing. Why wasn’t I invited?
That was my head!
While entering the final commercial on last night’s Daily Show, a camera swung over the audience — and if you look really, really closely (I recommend a VCR with a slow-motion function) you can see, for a second or two, the top of my head sitting in the audience. (Well, all of me was sitting in the audience — it’s not like I gave the top of my head the night off or anything. That’s just the only thing you can see.)
That was the first time I’ve been to a live taping of, well, pretty much anything, and it was a blast. The studio is much smaller than I’d expected; the group I was with — a dozen Columbia students — were sitting just a few yards from Jon Stewart’s anchor desk. And Stewart was even funnier in his interaction with the audience than he is on the show.
Now, all I have to figure out is this: should I put “featured on Comedy Central’s Daily Show” under education or employment on my resume?
So I’m sitting in a Laundromat yesterday afternoon, idly reading the notices on the wall while waiting for the pen I left in the wash to coat my clothes with ink. Along with the de rigueur notices posted in any warm, sitable place in New York — “Lounge is for customer use only”; “Coin changer for customer use only”; “No loitering” — was a new one: “Television for customer use only.”
Now, is that really necessary? I mean, I can see them not wanting non-customers hanging out; the room is the size of a cramped closet. But the lounge limitations take care of freeloading loiterers, causing me to wonder who the television sign is aimed at. Lip readers walking by? Runny-nosed orphans with their faces pressed to the glass hoping for a glimpse of Must-See TV? Next-door neighbors with their ears glued to the wall praying for the volume to be turned up?
I’m amazed that this is a problem.
Verse 1
Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King!
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!
Joyful, all ye nations, rise,
Join the triumph of the skies;
With the angelic host proclaim
Christ is born in Bethlehem!
Refrain:
Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King!
Verse 2
Christ, by highest heaven adored;
Christ, the everlasting Lord;
Late in time behold him come,
Offspring of the Virgin’s womb.
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;
Hail the incarnate Deity,
Pleased as man with man to dwell;
Jesus, our Emmanuel!
(Refrain)
Verse 3
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Risen with healing in his wings,
Light and life to all he brings,
Hail, the Sun of Righteousness!
Hail, the heaven-born Prince of Peace!
(Refrain)