Previous Rants

Summer 1996 thru Fall 1998

The Weather

Now life in Los Angeles is a completely different animal. Fast cars, pretty girls, pretty boys for that matter. Its all here. And I love it. Not having to take a hot, stinkin, jam packed subway is a friggin pleasure. The smog is a breath of fresh aire compared to the bo and perverts of the IRT. Caroline can have her city. Howard Stern gives me the daily dose of NYC I need thank you very much. Stern?? Did I say Howard Stern?? Yeah, im a hardcore sternite and im proud. You either hate him or ya love him.....and I think hes friggin hilarious. Sue me.

Hot Town Summer In The City

With all the time its taken me to update this page, primarily for my own bemusement, Ive decided to change the format. This if so all of my good friends who so often visit this page, can navigate around the stuff youve already read and just catch up on the . Its also so my parents, who have so wisely chosen AOL as there "internet provider", can avoid the adult links page like the plague. So here goes.......

So Much For Summer

Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Another Friggin Dimension

**GODDAMN IT THE YANKEES WON THE WORLD SERIES**

And I was there, wearing everYankeething but a Yankee jock strap. After being down 2-0, everyone including yours truly predicting a humiliating 4-0 sweep, the bastards came back and made me proud. And such a game. Perhaps the best single sporting event I've seen. How cool was it to be on that subway back to midtown packed to capacity with screaming Yankee fans after the game? It was INSANE. Outside the stadium, a sea of blue NY humanity endlessly hi-fiving each other without regard to race, creed, or criminal record. New Yorks finest alongside convicted felons, united in a common appreciation for another chapter in the history of the best city in the world. I believe I saw a tear in the eye of one of the Crips. On my way back to the hotel, I stopped off at Mickey Mantles, a bar and restaurant on Central Park South. Hundreds of shit faced fans were stopping traffic and dancing on the hoods of unsuspecting evening commuters. I love that city. And am THRILLED that I had the opportunity, time, and cash to get my ass back there for the SERIES WINNING GAME!!!!!! (Pats myself on the back) Anyone wanna buy a hat?

Oy Vey, Its Christmas Time Again

Say it aint so. Has a year gone by already? Is it time once again to rummage thru endless catalogues of red and green ribboned overpriced crap trying to figure out what to get for that special someone who has everything just to avoid the sea of pretending to be happy humanity in your local mall? Maybe its time to convert to Jehovahs Witness who dont believe in Christmas, Chanukah, and most importantly, gift giving. Get me Michael Jackson on the phone. No, scratch that. Theres got to be a better representative than MJ for my Jehova friends. How many vats of popcorn, baskets of Mrs. Beasleys,(thats a local referance)and boxes of Sees candies do I have to go thru before I get a free visit coupon from my local dermatologist? How many friggin hours am I gonna have to spend on the treadmill to sweat off the umpteen pounds gained eating this shit? How many boring Christmas parties am I gonna have to go to wearing a fake smile and bearing insincere gifts? What stupid gag gift am I gonna get the pig whose name I picked in the office pool? (God I hope noone from the office reads this) Am I the only one? I think not. The holidays are torture for most of us yet, for some reason, we look forward to it each year. Its gotta be the days off from work, which I guess, is a good enough reason. And I suppose I shouldnt be a grinch. So Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, blah blah blah blah blah. There, thats the spirit.

Superbowl In Lost Wages

Just got back from my fourth consecutive Superbowl in Las Vegas and I gotta tell ya, theres no place to share in the testorone filled joy of Superbowl Sunday like sin city. Combine the adrenalin rush of the game with the availability to wager and the endless flow of free drinks, and you have to wonder why every sports enthusiast on the planet isnt competing for elbow room on the strip. The cabbies and strippers, bartenders and croupiers are all in there glory, confident that the endless succession of visitors (read suckers) are there, ready, willing, and able to leave a stack of there hard earned cash behind. And they do. Whether its the inflated lap dances, the new "minimum" stakes artificially inflated just for the Superbowl crowd, or the lame show youve got to see just because its there, the whole town is set up for the sole purpose of converting your money into there money. Thats the game and nobody plays it better. I myself lost just enough money to be slightly aggravated, but not aggravated enought to swear off of Superbowl in Vegas next year. In fact, you can count on me being back next year, pocket full `o cash, and the same stupid optimistic fantasy about winning the motherload. Its all summed up in the contrast of the plane ride to versus the plane ride home from Vegas. Every unrealistic idiot thinking there going to win a million on the quarter slots is singing and dancing, drinking till they puke from the minute we leave LA to the minute we land. The flight home you can hear a friggin pin drop as everyone calculates how to cover the overdraft in there checking account with the cash advance they're going to take on the Visa card. How much is it to file bankruptcy anyway? Hey, if Willie Nelson can do it.........

Back on the Hamster Wheel

Another New Years come and gone and what does it all really mean? Am I the only one depressed and distressed at the thought of having to start all over, clean slate in hand, with all the ups and downs, joys and pain, yucks and yikes that seem to accompany each year? Add to that the financial responsibilities associated with keeping a roof over your loved ones (be they animal or mineral) pretty little heads and it all adds up to a hot date with my good friend Dr.Valium. On the good side, 1996 was in fact for the most part a good year. It was financially rewarding and, in the end, the positive events outweighed the negative events by a fairly wide margin. Not too many people of significance died, and to compensate, hopefully, a few were born. And if its a review of the best and worst of 1996 your looking for, just go to a newstand and pick up the December issue of Vanity Fair (or its equivalent in your world) and you can read all the news worthy details there. I myself wont indulge in any best of lists. Only the big picture here folks. Ie: Is it all worth it? Would we be better off hiking the mountains of Tibet in our free flowing pink robe, only concerned that we get back to the meditation center in time for the 4pm chanting seminar? The fancy cars, state of the art electronic toys, fabulous restaurants. Is it worth all the stress? I only wish I could figure that one out. And until I do, I guess its just back on the hamster wheel for another year. Hey, theres plenty of room if you wanna join me......

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Spring Has Sprung

I cant begin to express to you the difficulty writing a rant under these circumstances. Temperature in the 70's, sun a shining, flowers a blooming, and scantily clad women in the freezer section of the local supermarket oozing consumer sexuality. Who wants to be in front of the monitor absorbing carcinogenic radiation posioning when they can be deciding amongst a vast array of wolfgang puck frozen pizzas? Not i said the raincoat adorned self confessed net addict. But here i am, reliable rantaholic at your service.

In preparation for the impending summer, its time once again to begin starving ourselves so we can look good the two times this summer that we venture to the beach (if that), and for that annual 4th of july pool party with the bring your own stale chips and lucky brand beer. The crying baby bitten by the rabid dog always adds some excitement and may even divert a bit of the attention off of the 3 fat rolls on your stomach that remain even after youve cut the haagen dazs dark chocolate ice cream bars out of your diet. Heres an alternative suggestion. Have you seen the latest television add with that good looking, large chested, kinda black babeorama who lost all of that weight using slim fast? Did you see the before picture? Now thats friggin magic. Im hauling my ass to the price club tommorrow to get a case of that shit. Theres so much pressure to be thin and beautiful this time of year and the general concensus is that its only the women that feel that way. Wrongo my friends. Guys are just as insecure and self depracating when it comes to our bodies. We just pretend we dont give a shit because god forbid we show any vulnerability, the ruse weve managed to pull off on the other gender all these years could crash and burn in a nanosecond. So when we proudly display our bloated beer bellies at that 4th of july party, just know that were crying inside. We're out of shape pigs who burp and fart and youre just looking so damn luscious in that new bikini drinking your slim fast shake (one for breakfast, one for lunch, and a normal dinner). But dont even think about bringing us a light beer. Save that for the next Ellen coming out episode party you go to.

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Were Off to See the Wizard

So theres this comet, see? I think its called Epstein Barr. And behind it is this spaceship, see? Which is really our spaceship cause its coming to transport us off of this planet into another cosmos, see?.But first we really need to cut off our dick cause its beginning to get in the way of our ability to focus on the spaceship. I really didnt wanna cut off my dick, but Doh!, the boss, said that the dick is only the beginning and that soon we'd be shedding everything around the dick (called the container) and getting on the spaceship and i said wow. Guess thats the price ya gotta pay to get on that ride. It all made sense cause Doh! is the best piano player ive ever seen and all the other fat bald people in this club think hes really smart and agree with everything he says. Plus he got us this fancy house and he knows how to work the computer. So when Doh! says eat your dessert (and i think its apple sauce tonite...yummmm) buddy im gonna do just that. NanuNanu.

Life is Good?

Warning: I am about to enter into a momentary lapse of optimism. Please dont construe this to be representative of how I actually feel about life in any way, shape, or form.

Riddle me this Batman. Is it not conceivable that even I, the prince of darkness, can occasionally fall victim to feeling that the end of the world as we know it is not actually just around the corner? Frightening concept I know, but at the moment of this writing Im for whatever unexplained reason feeling pretty good about life in general. Perhaps its my upcoming "business" (haha) trip to Aspen this week for the Aspen Comedy Festival which is merely an excuse to bilk my partners out of a cleverly disguised ski trip wrapped in a business package. Or maybe its the final departing of the endless California rainy season and the beautiful weather that follows it which is the reason i transplanted my humidified ass from NY in the first place. Im not exactly sure, but Ill take advantage of this upbeat mood for any reason and gladly pass on the dividends to my friends and family no questions asked.

You: "We're thrilled to death that youve figured out a way to scam your hard working partners and that the weathers nice. Now tell us why life is good."

Sheesh. Your a tough crowd. Well I guess I could fall back on the "if you think you've got it bad just look at the guy next to you" theory. Im sick to death hearing people bitch and moan about there inconsequential bullshit problems which are all in there selfcentered amoeba sized minds when people with real problems are dealing with them and not complaining. How about a little appreciation for the good things in life huh?

You: "Is this the same Matt that rants on every month about the trivial things that bother him giving absolutely no thought as to whether we could care less about the subject matter?"

Yeah, well, thats what makes life interesting. Even I'm entitled to occasionally dwell in the positive universe. And thats where I am at the moment. I saw The English Patient last night and loved it. Ditto Secrets and Lies, Shine, and I even hesitate to admit it Gerry McGuire. Now you know I must be in a good space. After the post New Years depression (see Back on the Hamster Wheel below) its a welcome change. So lets just call this lets dwell on the good month. We dont know how long its gonna last and we should embrace the bastard while we can. How's that for enthusiasm?

I'm Out

Inconsiderate Turds

Say you help someone out by giving them a job (because you can) and they, in return, thank you by doing a half assed job which not only embaresses you, but makes your painfully stressful life even more unfuckinbearable. Dont you think a person like this deserves to have electrical diodes attached to there testacles with a wireless remote control in my mentally disturbed possession which enables me to deliver indescribably painful shocks to the ball region whenever I deem it appropriate? It seems only fair. I try and be a nice guy. I really do. Benefits of the doubt are the rule, not the exception. But you can only let so many fuckups fly before you start to wonder if the person is just a complete moron, or really doesn't give a shit and is only in it for themselves. And its at that point that I cease my philanthropic ways and become the asseholiest boss I can be. Sarcasm becomes my primary language and the modus operandi is all about making that inconsiderate turd as miserable as humanly possible. I patiently await the moment that the sad excuse for a cro magnun piece of shit can no longer look me in the eye and all they can think about it is how to get the fuck out while they still retain a microcell of dignity. The various modes of emotional torture are all I have to live for. And the only way out is the day I fire your sorry ass which I look forward to almost as much as that Pam Anderson/Tommy Lee video I have on order. I did say almost didn't I?......It's beginning to smell alot like Christmas.

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Hot Fun In the Summertime

Uh oh. Im getting that funny Austin Powers but retooled for the 70's flashback feeling again. Or maybe its just the dead center of summer hormones in overdrive blues. Take your pick, but at some point every year around this time, Ill be walking down a street, say the Santa Monica Promenade, and that flashback hits me Moulder style like it was only yesterday.

I drove an ice cream truck in Forrest Hills, Queens and it had to be in the top three of my best summers ever. Not as good as the summer I was a camp counselor for nubile 16 year olds at Bronx House Emannuele in upstate New York (Id tell you that story but Id have to kill you afterwards) but definitely a keeper in the old journal of the mind. The ice cream company was called Hood which was essentially a really bad knock off of Good Humor. But it was owned, I believe, by the Tattaglia family and I seem to recall Don Barzini threatening to wack me the day I innocently forgot to turn over the lick-em-aid money. But I digress. What made this the gig of all gigs was the nitetime ice cream truck menu of beer and tuinols sold to the I dont want to know how old kids in the park. Id provide the partying materials (for a reasonable fee) and in return, Im the hero of the park. How they would line up and cheer when I pulled up bells a ringing. It almost brings a tear to my eye. And the babes......oh how they loved there ice cream man. A hero I tell ya.......

Because its 110 fuckin degrees out and my brain is too fried to write a full legnth reasonably entertaining summer rant, I present you with the following excerpts from "BRAINDROPPINGS" by George Carlin.

I have a suggestion that I think would help fight serious crime. Signs. There are lots of signs for minor infractions:No Smoking, Stay Off the Grass, Keep Out, and they seem to work fairly well. I think we should also have signs for major crimes:Murder Strictly Prohibited, No Raping People, Thank You for Not Kidnapping Anyone. I'ts certainly worth a try. I'm convinced Watergate would have never happened it there had just been a sign in the Oval Office that said, Malfeasance of Office Is Strictly Against the Law, or Thank You For Not Undermining the Constitution.

When you drive through an entrance or exit lane that has one of those signs, Do Not Back Up- Severe Tire Damage, and you're going in the correct direction, don't you sort of worry about it anyway? That maybe they got it wrong? Or somebody turned the sign around? Or some guy on drugs installed the spikes? Or maybe you're on drugs, and you think, Am I doing this right? Am i backing up? No, I seem to be going forward. Let's see. Which way are the spikes pointing? Oh, I can't see the spikes anymore. I guess I better back up a little.

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You Dont Know Me

Its one thing to rant about work, the weather, psychotic cults, or even erect nipples in the freezer section of your local supermarket. A bit scarier going into self reflection mode which is why ive avoided it in the past. You dont know me, I dont know that you want to know me or anything about me. All you want is to be entertained and maybe get a laugh and you could give a fuck if I have three heads or like coffee enemas in the morning. But somehow yesterday at the bmw dealership, I had a flashback to my college days involving liquid methadrine and Jesse Colin Young that inspired me to hit the keyboard running, and so i begin.

I clearly recall in college making fun of people that drive bmw's calling them yuppie scum and saying that id never end up like those morons. I then travelled further down memory lane (particularly the drug infested side streets) and much to my chagrin, found that i have in fact become exactly what it was i detested thruout my college career. It wasnt that long ago that a bong before breakfast was the daily routine, all "suits" were pigs (well, most of them still are so maybe im salvageable), and when you drove along side a police car, you tried to appear to be straight even tho you were stoned out of your fuckin mind. Now im drug free (except for the once a year slip), I drive past cop cars and the worst i fear is getting ticketed for not wearing a seat belt, and tho i dont wear suits, i cohabitate with suitted pigs every day. And i hate them all. Back in college, my Yes t-shirt down to its last threads, radicals all around me, mescaline floating innocently thru my brain, I never could've imagined myself working along side suits, or god forbid browsing the color chart at the bmw dealership. But ive fallen and i cant get up. I like driving the yuppie rocket, and i like making money so i can die with the most toys. It would just be nice to make the bucks working in a cool environment like Lucas or Dreamworks or someplace where they have annual retreats in yosemite and treat the employees like human beings. People who work in record companies seem to have it made. T-shirts and jeans and sneakers and expense account dinners and travel and babes and occasionally drugs and they still make a ton of dough. Help wanted? Sign my sellout ass up. Jobs in cool companies are for relatives of people already working in the cool company. People like you and me really have to work for a living. I guess the moral of the story, if there is a moral to this story, is its not necessarily a bad thing to make a decent living. The key is to try and do it at something you actually like to do and hopefully, without destroying too many creatures on the endangered species list. I guess were not going on a retreat in yosemite in this lifetime. I have a dream.....

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Home, James