consider this a warning

A lot of my friends are turning 40 lately. Crusty, pathetic old jive turkeys, every last one of 'em.

In March, I think 5 more of them turn 40. Embarrassing. Outrageous. Unthinkable.

I need to mark down their birthdays on a calendar so I can cut off our friendships within a few days of them hitting 40. There should be a little transitional period where I explain that we're not going to be friends anymore, and why. Let them get used to it, allow them a little time to ask any questions they might have. Take care of any unfinished friend business that may have been lingering between us.

I don't want to ruin their already shitty 40th birthdays with friendship-ending phone calls at 12:01 a.m. But I won't wait long, because I can't be hanging around a bunch of 40 year-old geezers. At least not until August, when I turn 40. No, you know what? Not even then.

Because once you hit 40, you are totally Donesville. Look at some names of people in their 40's: Roger Clemens. Tom Cruise. Danny Bonaduce. Losers. Lame-os.

Yeah, I know, what about all the cool people in their 40's? Like who? Like Obama? I guess, but he's not really cool in the sense that you'd desperately want to hang out with him even if he was an accountant. He's more impressive, in that middle-aged CEO Successful Dude way, than cool. If he's cool, it's cool as in "Man, you've got a cool dad, I wish my dad was cool like that."

And he'd be much cooler if he was like 34.

Go ahead, name someone in their 40's you think is cool. I'll find some bullshit reason to say they're not. Try me.

Let's face it, if I called you up this Saturday and was all, "Man, I heard about a great party tonight, you wanna come? It's got 6 awesome DJ's, an incredible space, free booze, etc." you might say, "Who's gonna be there?" and if I answered, "A bunch of people in their 40's" you'd be like, "No thank you!" You wouldn't even feel the need to make up an excuse. You'd just say no right to my face. Unless you're like 56 and then you might be like, "Sounds cool! I'm there!" But if you are 56, the truth is I wouldn't be calling you.

People in their 40's don't start anything cool, like say a Music Scene. They're too busy with boring adult stuff like tuition and prostate exams and regret and existential panic.

They don't know hip insider hangouts. They don't run or jump very well. They can't drop everything for an impromptu road trip. They're awful, awful people.

I'm not looking forward to it myself, I won't lie. I occasionally think about people's stupid lists like "40 things to do before you turn 40" and I think, making a list like that is such a crappy idea, it was probably started by somebody in their 40's. If I was forced to create such a list, I would stock it for sure with shit I've already randomly done, like, "See a no-hitter in person" or "Have a sister in a successful rock band." I would just leave a few open spaces at the end, for stuff I'd actually still like to achieve.

Something like this...

38. Become clever. A lot of people might think cleverness is overrated, even annoying. But I wish to hell I was clever. I wish I was the guy in the office who only cracked one joke every two weeks, but each time it left you wondering how that dude got so damn clever.

39. Grow a moustache. I think, actually, I might save this for post-40. The idea of getting old and dying seems more acceptable if I picture myself doing it with a big ol' moustache.

40. Dunk

Feel free to add a few more.

In the meantime, I would like to fill you in on one thing I will definitely be doing on my 40th birthday (that you can try too!): drinking a 40. Maybe 2.

Luckily, I'll already be so old that I won't realize the inherent lameness and desperation in this act.

man among knicks

Saw LeBron trip dub fitty* the Knicks into submission on Wednesday. Here is my report.

Sat in $250 seats with my ex-boss. I won the tickets in a raffle at my daughter's school. Best seats I have sat in for maybe 20 years, although they weren't right on the floor or anything. Just good seats.

Like, that's a good seat, but you'd have to be a millionaire several times over to pay $250 for it 41 times a year. Also, look at the Knicks' starting five: Duhon, Richardson, Lee, Jeffries, and Harrington. There are more than a few teams in the league for which NONE of those guys would start; we start all five of 'em. Gotta credit D'antoni for keeping this team competitive.

Ilgauskas is even more huge and awkward in person.

His skinny legs are the creepiest part. Amazing that you could be 7'3" with a great shooting touch and still not be a dominant player in this league.

Here's Al Trautwig ruining the game for Spike Lee. Trautwig really grosses me out.

You get the feeling that he gropes interns all day long, pausing only to squintily peer at himself in the mirror.

Do the Knicks City Dancers have day jobs? I seriously want to know. That, and what is this vagina-clinging costume made of?

Celeb watch: Spike Lee, Chris Rock, John Legend, Adam Yauch, Jay-Z, Steve Schirripa. Plus more on TV, I'm sure. And I think these two dudes on the right might be the guys from Extreme.

The anthem was handled by R & B star Joe, who I admit I don't know from Adam. He did a great job: straightforward, in key, no BS.

Here's David Lee guarding LeBron too closely. He looks like he's thinking: uh-oh.

Lee had a bad game but he's a nice player. I'm still not sure how he is averaging 16 points a game without a great jump shot or any honest to goodness post moves, but he definitely has a nose for the ball and makes the most out of his opportunities. Here he is thinking about girls while somehow forcing LeBron to shoot a 30 footer.

Here's little Nate taking a shot at LBJ.

Nate had a mediocre night but I am convinced he is a legit NBA player. He would be a good 6th man on a team with an inside presence. He is a fine shooter and an incredible athlete. But he cannot guard LeBron James. Problem is, nobody on the Knicks can.

Here's the surprisingly smooth Wilson Chandler, basically saying, "Please shoot. I don't want to get dunked on."

Here's Quentin Richardson, wondering if it's too late to go back to school and pursue his MBA.

Here's Chandler again, being knocked down, made small, and treated like a rubber ball.

LeBron has an explosive quickness mixed with the kind of strength that makes 240 pound men bounce off him like fleas. Here's Tim Thomas, 20 feet away but about to surrender a crunch time layup. (P.S. click on this picture to blow it up, then find Woody Allen in the crowd.)

Now Al Harrington, same story. Once that left shoulder gets an inch past you, you can grab all you want, he's gone.

Here's LeBron getting right to the basket amongst a sea of inferior men. This is at the end of the game, when everybody knows he's going to drive, and they still couldn't take it away from him.

Impressive. I had a ticket to Jordan's double nickel in 1995, but gave it up to watch the game at home with my man Kissel, who was visiting from Boston. Love Kissel, but that was a mistake. Glad I didn't fuck this one up. LeBron is all he's cracked up to be. Your only hope is to sag off him and hope he misses. Or double team him 30 feet from the basket and force him to give it up.

Despite LeBron's excellence, the Knicks played their asses off and stayed in it until the very end. Here's a late game three by an unconscious Al Harrington, who I must admit I like more than Crawford or Randolph.

John Andariese and Gus Johnson were calling it on the radio about 18 inches behind me and to my left. At the end of the game, I said, "Johnny Hoops!" but he didn't hear me. The guy is about 75 years old. Then he took off his headset and I said it again: "Johnny Hoops!" He acknowledged me, and I told him I had enjoyed his work for years ('I'm familiar with your work'). He shook my hand, thanked me, and said, with a gleam in his eye, "Some game, wasn't it, fellas?"

That it was, Johnny Hoops. And I hope when I'm 75, basketball still reveals new magic to me every night, the way it still does for you. I think it will. God Bless you, Johnny Hoops.

* OK, after a league review, so they took away the triple double on a questionable rebound. The NBA says they review all game tapes to make sure statistics are accurate. In an unrelated story, the NBA announced that John Stockton actually averaged only 4.2 assists for his career.

a quick ten while he's away

1. It's always a good idea to periodically check on recently released movies to see how easily they can be retitled into pornos. For instance (in increasing order of absolute stupidity):

The Curious Cock of Benjamin Button (The Curious Case of Benjamin Butthole?)
Cumdog Millionaire
Gran Whorino
Quantum of Phallus
Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skullfuck
The Spiderdick Chronicles
Pole Models
Rim's Island
Revolution Load
The Breastler
WALL-Eat Me
Marley and Pee

Keep 'em coming.

2. On BJL's recommendation, I took a few online ADD diagnostic tests. To my complete non-surprise, they all came up screamingly positive, as in, dude, go find a mental health professional in the next fifteen minutes. I told my wife about this, who thinks "yeah well maybe but really you just need to learn better habits." I am inclined to agree -- I think 90% of the people I know exhibit strong ADD symptoms. But I don't want to go on Ritalin or anything, so I guess I'll lump it with the rest of you losers.

3. Going to see Knicks v. LeBron on Wed. night with my ex-boss. I hope LeBron goes for Kobe's garden record. And I hope Ray Williams plays within the team concept.

4. I am looking for a signature dish that I can make for my wife/kid. It needs to be:
a) simple
b) not completely without nutritional value
c) kid-friendly
d) easy to make in a big batch and refrigerate/freeze

5. I miss my moped.

6. Super Bowl was great. I kind of just wish they had taken an extra minute to confirm that Warner's arm was not moving forward on that last fumble. I think they got it right, but I really wanted to see one final heave to the endzone with Fitzgerald jumping against the whole Steeler defense.

7. I am still reeling from the choice of Biz Markie for next year's halftime show, but in the end I think it is wise.

8. I think Hugh Jackman will be an affable but totally forgettable Oscar host. Next year, Biz Markie, goddammit.

9. Just a reminder: you're going to die. Sooner than you expect. And the vast majority of your waking hours will be spent doing some douchebag's bidding. By the time you are out from under the douche's command (band name?), your body will be a broken down husk of what it once was, full of mushed-up bones and failing organs, and 75% of life's pleasures will no longer apply to you.

The good news: drinking will still get you all kinds of fucked up.

10. HIATUS countdown: 115 days. Is that too soon to start a countdown.

***BONUS ARCHIVAL MATERIAL: After creating this post, I was feeling vaguely nostalgic for times that never existed, and I decide to take a stroll through the verbungle.com archives to see how far we've come. Here is what I found. What I think is interesting is 1) That I actually seemed to know about this smutlaw, or at least pretended to and 2) That five years ago, I was busy making up bad porno titles, just as I am today. Oh well.

2/4/4: The 60% Solution

No matter what your views on pornography are, it's hard to feel 100% happy about what's happened in Times Square over the last six or seven years. For much of his tenure, Mayor Giuliani crusaded to get rid of the seedy-ass sex shops that helped give the neighborhood its delightful hellish appeal. Eventually, in one of those weird compromises that pleases nobody, adult stores within 500 feet of residences, schools, or churches were only allowed to stay open if 60% of their business was devoted to non-pornographic merchandise. Now that didn't mean that 60% of their revenue had to come from non-smut, just that 60% of their floor space had to be devoted to "legitimate" stuff. A lot of businesses simply had to close down, or move to desolate areas where it would be hard to make ends meet (do you really want to go out to Staten Island just to pick up that fisting video your mother-in-law's been clamoring for?). But porn purveyors are not stupid, as a rule, so what some of them did is load up their shops with 60% of the most ridiculously unbuyable merchandise you'd ever come across, in an effort to meet the requirements. Now it doesn't make a lot of financial sense to own a store that's mostly filled with stuff you don't ever intend to sell, but it starts to add up when coupled with the fact that so many porno shops had to shut down. If you're one of five sex shops within a ten block area, instead of one of fifty, you can do some serious business even while offering a ton of shitty old mainstream movies, schlocky souvenirs and low-end electronics. So you wind up with places like the aptly named "Mixed Emotions," which to anyone who's got a brain is clearly catering to smut shoppers. But to appease some non-existent segment of the population that wants to hide the porn in plain view, they offer up crappy stuff like "Seven Years in Tibet" (not to be confused with "Seven Queers in Tibet" or "Seven Inches into Beth," which are located in different sections). So I guess the anti-porn people consider it a victory because they've considerably sterilized Times Square, and the pro-porn folks are OK because they can still get their hands on the goods, but shouldn't the human race have arrived at a place where we can be honest about who we are and what we want? If anything, the 60% rule has removed some of the stigma of entering a porn shop -- "Oh Hi Ralph, I was just here to pick up one of those hilarious fake Simpsons 'I Love NY' T-shirts. You too, huh?" -- which kind of takes the bite out of the law. You could argue that the rule has created a less seamy neighborhood without really sacrificing our ability to buy "dirty books" and the like (which may indeed be true), but it seems to me that it's up there alongside "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" in that it forces us to pretend to be something we're not, because it's impossible to make us become something we're not. In all these years of struggle, haven't we earned the right to step forward and choose what we want for ourselves without being told what that is? And has Times Square really become any less nauseating, or has it just changed the manner in which it sickens you?

P.S. Before Giuliani left office, he was pushing legislation that would get rid of the 40% rule and make it legal to close down ANY shop that sells pornographic material. Does anyone know what happened with this?

XLIII short thoughts on the Springsteen halftime performance

1. misguided
2. enthusiastic
3. phony
4. hokey
5. embarrassing
6. canned
7. overblown
8. surprisingly athletic!
9. unspontaneous
10. depressing
11. weird
12. just off
13. wide left
14. wrong wrong wrong
15. predictable
16. oh no...gospel choir!
17. caricature
18. OK I guess
19. let me leave the room for a second, OK that's better
20. grinning
21. money grubbing
22. did I just see a referee?
23. self-congratulating
24. bombastic
25. respect-sapping
26. wistful for tom petty-making
27. at least he didn't bring sully onstage
28. rockin'
29. schmaltzy
30. cheesy
31. troubling
32. overgoofy
33. funny
34. sad
35. overlong
36. ultimately forgivable
37. poorly conceived
38. surprisingly lame
39. shameless
40. in need of shame
41. disappointing
42. forgettable
43. generally sucky

gaze upon my exposed navel

You remember Wonder Man from The Avengers? One of his powers was the ability to slow down time, or more accurately the ability to view the world in slow motion. He could react to attacking bad guys at his leisure and just knock the living shit out of everybody.

Sometimes I think I am the Anti-Wonder Man. Things are always happening too fast for me. There's too much chaos in my brain, thoughts are bouncing around and disappearing and deadlines arise out of nowhere. I occasionally have a dream that I am driving a car down an interstate, and even though traffic is not really treacherous in any way, I am barely able to keep my car in its lane. Everything is too damn fast. Cars and fences and signs are whizzing past and I am reacting just in time to avoid a pileup. And it's sort of how I feel in my day to day life too.

I end up doing things too quickly at the last minute and fucking them up. I can't think ahead or plan. If something is looming in the distance, I don't try to get a head start on it. I wait until it is upon me and then I scramble to figure it out. I often fail.

When I was a kid I would buy a brand new Trapper Keeper at the start of every school year, and promise myself that I was going to stay organized this time. Never happened. Mind drifted. Got lazy. Papers everywhere. Desperate late night backpack searches for the one sheet with the critical assignment on it.

This self-manufactured chaos is still all around me. I am always trying to catch up on something, always flailing around for semi-answers and stopgap solutions instead of figuring shit out ahead of time. The worst part is, my life isn't that hard: it's the standard Job-Wife-Kid situation that dudes deal with around the world every day.

Here are some things I fucked up recently:

-Shrunk my daughter's sweater in the laundry. Wasn't supposed to dry it, didn't see it in there, ruined it.

-Didn't RSVP to either of two super bowl parties I was invited to. Still don't know which, if either, I'll attend. I guess I'm a game time decision. Pretty rude.

-Misplaced my wallet for like four hours.

-Didn't take out the bathroom garbage for like 4 days, even though I saw it was full. My wife had to get on my case about it for me to do it, even though garbage removal is one of my assigned tasks.

-Turned in poor work a couple of times at the office, not horrible but I got a lot of revisions from the boss, which always bruises the ego.

-Misplaced my Knicks tickets for like three hours.

-Forgot to give my sympathies when I ran into an acquaintance who just lost her mother.

-Tried to plan a vacation, couldn't find dates that worked.

-Stayed up til 4am watching Dig! on my computer (could not fucking tear myself away from it), forgot to run dishwasher when I finally went to bed.

-Attempted to auction off Barack Obama's vacant Senate seat, got caught.

-about 37 other little things like this

In general, I think maybe I am staying up too late and not sleeping enough. This has gone on for maybe 25 years. I average about 5 hours of sleep a night. I am always kind of tired and doing shit half-assedly and hoping for the best.

I should impose a midnight bedtime for the next two weeks and see if my quality of life improves.

But then when would I blog about meaningless crap?