I’ve switched to a new web hosting company for this site. Several things got broken in the move, but I think I’ve fixed all of them. If you run across something that doesn’t work, though, please let me know.
January 31st, 2008 § Comments off § permalink
January 9th, 2008 § Comments off § permalink
This is, like, another one of my half-baked philosophies. The first duty of everybody in life is to realize that they’re a piece of shit. They’re selfish, they’re self-centered, they’re not very good. And that you’re willing to sacrifice 20,000 people in another country just so that you can go to a Wings concert. [to the director:] You’ll sacrifice the lives of 100,000 Chinese female babies just so you can rent this fucking camera and do your stupid art project.
No problem! You’re a piece of shit. Once you realize you’re a piece of shit, it’s not so hard to take. Because then you don’t have this feeling that you’re a good person all the time. And lemme tell you something: Feeling that you’re a good person all the time is like having a brand-new car with no scratches on it. It’s a real responsibility which is almost impossible to live up to. Being a piece of shit and then occasionally doing something that’s good and true—it’s a much easier place to be.
I think that’s really important, and I always tried to raise my kids to understand that they’re not that terrific. And that not being that terrific—that’s okay, ’cause most people who say they are terrific—Bill Clinton, Cardinal Egan—anybody you want to talk about, they’re not so terrific. Martha Stewart! They’re not so fuckin’ terrific either, and there’s nothing wrong with being not so terrific, you know. In fact, it’s what the whole ballgame is about, is about being not so terrific and accepting it.
Brace yourself, Internet, for I’m about to reveal a deep, dark secret.
For the past few years, several of my friends and I have periodically assembled, both in the light of day and the gloom of night, at various fancy pizza places. With gleams in our eyes and growling in our bellies, we gaze eagerly upon their menus, searching for the perfect marriage of crust and topping—one that will set our limbic systems alight with bliss.
Our name is Team Pizza. And our quest is neverending.
Last night, Team Pizza journeyed to the wilds of Glen Park, in San Francisco, to visit Gialina. People: It was excellent. I’d say it’s one of the top five pizzerias in the Bay Area. We ordered four different pizzas, and they were all great. Don’t miss the Atomica, which has possibly the best tomato sauce I’ve ever had on a pizza. I also recommend any of the pizzas that include various pork-related products.
To the Bay Area’s other upscale pizza-oriented restaurants, I say this: Ready your ovens. Proof your dough. You cannot know when Team Pizza will strike, but rest assured that we will. If your pizza is inferior, our scorn will be merciless. But if you delight us with a superior meal, you may be semi-coherently praised by one man with a seldom-updated weblog.
January 3rd, 2008 § Comments off § permalink
Hey, everyone: Go read this fascinating article about boredom.