Thanks to a municipal staffing foul-up I spent the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of colleg working for the Chemung County sewer plant in Elmira, NY instead of the non-shit-handling highway Dep’t. In retrospect, the screw up was probably better for me, anyhow. The highway workers were a stocky, herculean bunch who din’t mind scalding asphalt and unrelenting, scorching summer sun. The shit plant workers on the other hand, were smaller guys with a e conniving Hobbesian shrewdness. They were good at not working much, pilfering power tools from the city, and listening to George Thorogood on the radio. I think I fit in better with them, even though I think George Thorogood is one of the worst musical acts of all time.  

When I worked at the shit plant, I made $6.25 an hour before taxes. I remember my weekly paychecks being about $120 after Uncle Sam got his paws in my honey pot. Getting up at 5:30 am to go paint digesters, screw pumps, and trickling filters that each smell like one of the 5 different stages that decomposing feces goes through was not in the long-term cards for me. I think I made it about 2 months before I quit. And I only made it that long because my supervisor, Ryan, was one of my buddies from high school.

The point of this whole thing is that as bad as working at the Chemung County Sewer Plant is, it’s a cushy gig compared with what the New York City sewage workers go through. The New York Times ran a story today detailing the unconscionable treatment these guys have endured for the past 30 years. Basically, their wages have been as stagnant as a backed-up frat house toilet, while other municipal employees have ridden waves of raises over the years.

Read the whole story here.

The article also taught me that during the 2003 blackout 30 million gallons of untreated sewage were discharged into the East River. My back yard, basically.

The day the Fresh Direct machine arrived hired guns even came in and did  free tastings of all the repasts; which I completely overindulged in along with former Shallow Divers member K-Tray. For pre-packaged, pre-cooked, reheated food, it actually tasted pretty good.

Then a few days ago, I was short on time and decided to go down and purchase my first Fresh Direct vended treat. Now let me first say that I’m no salt Nazi. But I do usually try to steer clear of canned soups, Mac n Cheese, high-test soy sauce, or any other single meal that can single handedly put me over my daily sodium allowance.

As a precautionary measure, I glassed the nutritional information for each meal posted on the vending machine and Holy NaCl!!! These things had more salt in them than I’ve ever seen on a label of anything. A few of the prime offenders had 80% of your daily allowance of sodium; something on the order of 1,600 mg. 

I didn’t wind up buying a Fresh Direct vending machine meal that day, nor do I intend to ever. Too much salt for this guy.

In fact, they ought to call these blood-pressure jacking machines Freshwich Direct.

Check out this photo of Greg Norman from 1976. Bowl-cut and all, he looks like a throrough badass.

Music Go Music is an ensemble, modern disco outfit  helmed by the husband/wife duo behind the overlooked band Bodies of Water. They’ve created an entire backstory for the project, replete with fake names and a fake 70s TV show called Face Time. Here they are doing one of their songs live on the fake TV show Face Time.

I think they did a damn good job of recreating a sultry 70s vibe. Instrumentally they’re super put together and the guitarist is a total shredder.  I wouldn’t be surprised if you hear a DJ spining this stuff soon, it’s great party music.

Music Go Music “Just Me” from Music Go Music on Vimeo.

And for good measure, here’s some old Hot Boys.

I need a project bitch, a hood rat bitch…             Classic.

This clip is the best one I have ever seen. They fey man doing his routine looks like a truly tortured soul. Sort of the Marat Safin of ski ballet.

Behold.

Only Cuba Gooding junior, aka Cubastank, can capture this kind of winter anticipation:

In the mean time, I’d like to give a shout out to Shaun White–who definitely reads this blog–for completely manhandling the competition, like nothing I’ve ever seen, in the Men’s snowboard half pipe at the Olympics. And I’m glad to report that NBC announcers didn’t refer to Shaun as the “Great White,” like X Games’ Sal Masekela was doing a few weeks ago. I get it, he meant shark, but it’s a little too much grand wizard for my taste.

Here it is. An amazing and also very sad story from the BBC.  It’s sort of long so click below  if you’d like to read it.

The last speaker of an ancient language in India’s Andaman Islands has died at the age of about 85, a leading linguist has told the BBC.

Professor Anvita Abbi said that the death of Boa Sr was highly significant because one of the world’s oldest languages – Bo – had come to an end.

She said that India had lost an irreplaceable part of its heritage.

Languages in the Andamans are thought to originate from Africa. Some may be 70,000 years old.

The islands are often called an “anthropologist’s dream” and are one of the most linguistically diverse areas of the world.

‘Infectious’

Professor Abbi – who runs the Vanishing Voices of the Great Andamanese (Voga) website – explained: “After the death of her parents, Boa was the last Bo speaker for 30 to 40 years.

“She was often very lonely and had to learn an Adamanese version of Hindi in order to communicate with people.

“But throughout her life she had a very good sense of humour and her smile and full-throated laughter were infectious.”

She said that Boa Sr’s death was a loss for intellectuals wanting to study more about the origins of ancient languages, because they had lost “a vital piece of the jigsaw”.

FROM BBC WORLD SERVICE

“It is generally believed that all Andamanese languages might be the last representatives of those languages which go back to pre-Neolithic times,” Professor Abbi said.

“The Andamanese are believed to be among our earliest ancestors.”

Boa Sr’s case has also been highlighted by the Survival International (SI) campaign group.

“The extinction of the Bo language means that a unique part of human society is now just a memory,” SI Director Stephen Corry said.

‘Imported illnesses’

She said that two languages in the Andamans had now died out over the last three months and that this was a major cause for concern.

Professor Abbi and Boa Sr became firm friends

Academics have divided Andamanese tribes into four major groups, the Great Andamanese, the Jarawa, the Onge and the Sentinelese.

Professor Abbi says that all apart from the Sentinelese have come into contact with “mainlanders” from India and have suffered from “imported illnesses”.

She says that the Great Andamanese are about 50 in number – mostly children – and live in Strait Island, near the capital Port Blair.

Boa Sr was part of this community, which is made up of 10 “sub-tribes” speaking at least four different languages.

The Jarawa have about 250 members and live in the thick forests of the Middle Andaman. The Onge community is also believed to number only a few hundred.

“No human contact has been established with the Sentinelese and so far they resist all outside intervention,” Professor Abbi said.

It is the fate of the Great Andamanese which most worries academics, because they depend largely on the Indian government for food and shelter – and abuse of alcohol is rife.

The thing is, I don’t have any right to judge anyone if they choose to watch the same television shows that every third person in the US is also watching.  Because the modicum of reality TV that I do watch (maybe 1 show at a time) is so bad it’s probably the equivalent of watching 20 different shows a week.

Here are a few of the reality shows I’ve regularly watched:

Salt N Pepa Show: Boring, irrelevant, boring.
Ax Men:  Boring, like Deadliest Catch (which is already boring) in a forest.

And now, my latest find is a the little show that could,  Johnny Weir Be Good. The star, Johnny, is the self-proclaimed badboy of figure skating. The show works because contrary to Johnny’s subjective assessment, he’s not the badboy of anything.  In fact, he’s a neurotic, sassy prince with a penchant for sequins and lace gloves who can skate his balls off.

Here’s a preview. In the words of Ferris Beuller, I Highly Recommend It.