January 20, 2009, marked a day which will forever be etched in the minds of those who had the privilege of witnessing it. A significant part of American history transpired: Barack Obama became the first half-black man to be sworn in as President of the United States since Warren G. Harding. As a privileged, Jewish Yale graduate who grew up as a dirt-poor black boy, I was very excited for this momentous occasion.
Greetings from Tromaville!
I don't get it, I just don't get it. I'm stunned, shocked, staggered. For the first time in my highly-celebrated and sexy 40-year career, I'm flabbergasted! Where to begin? Where to start? Well, let's rewind to three weeks from last Friday. I was visiting the local movie theatre in hopes of writing a 2-page spread on High School Musical 3 for Tiger Beat Magazine. Thirty minutes into the Zach Efron tour-de-force, I was thrown out after learning that you can't sing along to movie musicals in a public place…wearing nothing but a top hat. Live and learn, I guess. But, after wandering around the hollow halls of the chain theatre for the better part of an hour, I found myself sitting in on a screening of the latest instalment of the Saw films. Which leads me to the subject of this very blog: I do not understand what's with these films whose plot (and I use the term "plot" generously) seem to involve nothing more than some person being dismembered limb by sawed-off limb. And what's even more confounding is that the audience is made up of date-goers who, I would assume, are deriving some sort of entertainment from what's being projected onscreen. I mean, this was the fifth film in a highly-lucrative franchise!
I recently attended the highly-popular and critically-acclaimed Toxic Avenger Musical in the always radiant town of New Brunswick, New Jersey. On the ride home from the George Street Playhouse, I decided to stop at the local 7-11 and pick up my favorite after-hashish treat, the Hostess Snowball! I could barely control my drool at the check-out line as I waited to purchase my coconut-mallow-covered chocolate cakes. After returning to my car, I slowly peeled away the wrapper, revealing the soft, bosom-shaped treats with their hidden, cream-filled surprise (don't ask, don't tell). I licked my lips and bit into what I thought was going to be heaven on earth. What happened next is both unspeakable and unfathomable: the Hostess Snowball tasted like sawdust! Shit-dipped sawdust! For a moment, I was shocked, but on the ride home I realized that more and more of our delicious snack foods are being changed for the worse.
Halloween is my favorite holiday, and the only one that hasn't been fully ruined yet by the corporate elite. You don't have to buy your friends a bunch of presents or cards, or take your sweetheart out for a pricey meal. All you have to do is wear a costume and eat candy. My favorite spooky activity is going to Haunted Houses. They always are a good, frightening time, and they really help get me into the Halloween spirit. Here, for your enjoyment, is my list of the scariest Haunted Houses.
