We Already Know.

I guess it's not that surprising that my telling of the Hanukkah story involved the phrases 'insurgent forces' and 'guerrilla warfare.'

Fact.

High ceilings and a smoke detector running out of batteries do not make for a good night's sleep.

Bilingual.

Uh, is 'Washroom' Canadian for Restroom?

"It sure is, eh."

Okay, thanks.

The Underground.

The last time I was in a bar that was literally underground, I was in Israel and it was an old bunker where they hadn't even bothered to take down the camouflage netting. Just throw a strobe light in there, play some loud euro-dance and turn on the fog machine. No one will think twice about it. But I suppose when you're 16, you don't need a whole lot more.

Now that I'm back in the region, but in a very different country, the concept of an underground bar holds a different meaning. And while this one was also physically located beneath the earth, the camo nets and artificial fog were replaced with funny stories about camping out in public parks and a quick tour of the trampoline located on the second story rooftop.

I wasn't invited to jump on the trampoline during the evening, but I have a feeling I will invite myself over to do just that soon enough.

Don't Go There.

A bit of fortune cookie advice: Sometimes the road less traveled is less traveled for a reason.

Just Like in the Cartoons.

While back in DC over Thanksgiving, we drove the four hours south and west to Bath County, Virginia. The forests there are beautiful and we were looking forward to a chance to get out and hike a bit. At the Lake Moomaw (actual name) Resevoir we stopped in at the ranger station just to grab a map. The park ranger, actually an Army Corps of Engineers tour guide (long story), asked us if we were going for a hike. We told him that we were and just as I was about to ask for any trail suggestions he cut us off.

"I wouldn't go out hiking. It's the last day of hunting season and it's anything goes today; bucks, does, whatever. They're going to be shooting at pretty much anything out there. You'll be alright if you stick to the parking area, but other than that I wouldn't recommend it."

So, we quickly got back in the car and took a driving tour of the area, which was still quite nice.

And out there in all that natural beauty, the thing that most captivated me? A giant industrial paper factory right along the West Virginia state line. It smelled bad and I'm sure they were dumping all kinds of horrible chemicals into the river that it sat directly on top of; but I do love a good factory when I see one.

High Concept; Low Art.

My concept for a recycling commercial. No one has yet offered any funding.



Quick cuts flashing a variety of stereotypical scenes of counter-culture plotters, not dissimilar to those found in fight club. Dark rooms, dark clothes, stencils of red fists spray painted on the walls. Three figures, their faces obscured by bandanas or masks are shown in these quick cuts. Loud music being played. (Early 90’s rap? 70’s punk? Obscure indie? No satire, this is made to appear sincere. Also, no techno.)

We quickly realize this group of people are making a Molotov cocktail. After the ingredients are put together, they are seen running down a dark alley, crouched down. One of the guys, the leader, quickly runs into the street and in slow motion, throws the bottle. Extra time is spent on the classic pose of the revolutionary in mid throw, back arched, face covered, burning bottle in hand.

The view of street makes it unclear if we are in the US or perhaps Europe. Maybe even in SE Asia or South America. The location should be made to seem as if it is anywhere in a major decaying city. We see a slow motion shot of the bottle tumbling end over end through the air, the wick (a piece of torn cloth) still burning.

Finally the bottle hits the side of what is clearly a police car. But rather than shatter and burst into flames, the bottle harmlessly bounces off the side of the car and into the street. A loud plastic ‘thud’ is heard. Gasoline slowly spills into the street and starts a small, impotent fire.

Cut back to the guys, the leader turns back to his friends. One of them stands up and in a derisive tone says, “Dude! Plastic?”

Voice over – Plastic containers and bottles can be reused for almost anything. Cut to Reduce, Reuse, Recycle logo.

TV Misleads Me Again.

I had to put on a jacket before leaving the house tonight. What country am I in again? I thought this wasn't suppose to happen here.

A Short Drive.

Sometimes the desert is endless sand dunes and camels and palm trees and the occasional oasis. But sometimes the desert is just empty for as far as you can see.

It's in the Mail.

Greg Mottola, you've done it again. From the very first bars of The Replacements over the opening credits to Big Star, Lou Reed, David Bowie, Husker Du, The Jesus and Mary Chain and (just for you Luke) Crowded House; a really nice soundtrack all the way through.

The movie itself was well done, Jesse Eisenberg once again plays awkward well, that one girl from Twilight was in it, Martin Starr can do no wrong and Mottola even got an understated performance out of Ryan Reynolds. Two Guys and Pizza Place what?

The movie was marketed mostly based on Mottola's connection to Superbad, but there is no resemblance between the two movies.

I still find it a bit odd that I get Netflix here, but you won't find me complaining as long It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and good movies like this keep finding their way out to me.

Simple.

My parents are both doctors, so I've spent a lot of time over the years in hospitals and clinics and nursing homes. They don't bother me or remind me of my own mortality or any of that stuff. In fact, when I was offered a tour of one of the private hospitals here, I was pretty curious to see what kind of facility it was.

The tour was nothing special, but I was intrigued by this brochure advertising the hospital's hemorrhoid and rectal surgery services. I don't really know how else one would tastefully demonstrate the relief of having one of these surgeries, but I was greatly amused by just how happy this gentleman is to be sitting in his office chair, in a field.

I guess it's the simple things that make it all worth it.

Busy.

So, I guess you could say they're doing a bit of construction here. All the time, everywhere, non-stop for the past 30 or so years.

Sharing the Road.

I've been knocked off of my bicycle by cars three times over the years. Once by a city bus when I was quite young, and twice in college by different (but very similar) minivans driven by distracted moms talking on cellphones.

All of these were minor incidents that resulted in a few scrapes. And so was last night's fourth bicycle vs. car event. The only difference here is that instead of minivans or buses, I was bumped off the road by a canary yellow Porsche with tinted windows. And instead of the driver stopping to see what happened, I pulled myself off the ground as the finely tuned German engineering accelerated down the street.

Game Night.

This is the other great find at the local toy store, BUSINESS. What's even funnier to me is that the Arabic on the box actually says, MONOPOLY, but it was then re-translated into English as BUSINESS. Aside from being a pretty sweet bootleg copy of Monopoly, the set uses all British real-estate and pounds instead of dollars. Looking to buy Boardwalk for 400 dollars? Sorry, but I can offer you Coventry Street for 260 pounds.

The only disappointment was that, based on the box, I was really hoping that it was indeed a game of Business with Snakes and Ladders. I wanted to play a market based game of buying and selling snakes for ladders until the winner owned all of the ladders.

Sadly, the reality is that the flimsy cardboard playing board is two sided, with a crappy version of chutes and ladders on the back.

Oh well, I guess it's time to get down to BUSINESS.

The Perfect Recipe.

Brazilian bossanova and American Jazz by a Japanese composer at the Swedish Embassy in Saudi Arabia. A really nice evening.