Vegas Honeymoon

Lisa and I did many memorable things during our honeymoon, most of which I can't publish on this blog. There are some images that are burned on my retina. When I die, I know that the photo of I have of Lisa in a grove of apple trees will flash before my eyes.

Another iconic moment in the visual data bank would be Lisa holding up a cardboard funnel at the Penn & Teller show at the Rio Hotel in Las Vegas. Teller put a silk scarf in the funnel, glitter exploded out of the funnel, and the silk scarf had disappeared. Lisa looked more beautiful than a Vegas showgirl holding that prop with her hand on her hip.

We had front row (row AA, seats one and two) tickets to the Penn & Teller show. I've been to hockey games, baseball games, and football game, but I've never caught a puck, baseball, or football. This was the first time I'd ever gone to an event and managed to get a really cool souvenir - one of the wadded up balls of aluminum they used in their cup and ball trick.

No matter how many times you've seen Penn juggle broken glass bottles on television, there is nothing quite like seeing the trick performed live. Lisa thought Penn's monologue about juggling broken glass went on a little too long, but in his heart, I suspect Penn really wants to be a comedian, and the monologue showed an excellent grasp of the shaggy dog story. Plus, it meant less time having to actually juggle broken glass, which would reduce the risk of personal injury to Penn.

Teller is...well, he is funny, but he is a magician, first and foremost. The disappearing gold fish and coins was the most impressive trick (after the bullet catch) performed that evening.

Penn & Teller hung around the lobby to sign autgraphs after the show. I now have three signed books (two of them first editions!) to add to my growing library. I also have photographic proof that I am, in fact, taller than Penn.

Not only did Lisa get us the best seats in the house for the Penn & Teller show, she even planned the perfect finish to our little Vegas getaway. Gameworks, the Coca-Cola Store, the fountain at the Bellagio, a cup of hot chocolate, and the volcano at the Mirage ended our trip with a bang!

Silly Rabbit, Tits Are For Kids!

Charlie Wilson's War. Directed by Mike Nichols. Starring Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

Even if it didn't have any tits and ass, Charlie Wilson's War would still be a great film. It was well plotted, and the characters were interesting. I chuckled at Charlie Wilson's (played by Tom Hanks) ostentatious dress - the aviator frames, the loud cuff links, the suspenders on pants clearly meant to be worn only with a belt. Gust Avrakotos (played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman) was an even bigger fashion disaster, with his plastic frames, ties that hung half way down to his chest, and his ill fitting suits.

Once I got past their appearances though, I found myself strangely moved. Here were all these oddballs, misfits, and geeks, and they did what nobody thought could be done: they brought down the USSR. I didn't miss the subtext (yesterday's allies are now today's enemies) but since the script was written by Aaron Sorkin that came as no surprise.

However, if there are still Wilsons, Gusts, and Herrings running around the U.S.A., I'm sure the war on terror will eventually be won. If Niall Ferguson and Victor Davis Hanson have taught me anything, it's that cash, teamwork, and individual initiative invariably trump ideological fervor.

But enough about fashion and politics. What I really want to talk about is tits. Although they aren't really integral to the plot, I thought it was a nice retro touch, giving the film an even greater aura of authenticity.

On a subtextual level, all the nudity, cleavage, and scantily clad women showed just how much heart the film had. Not only did Mike Nichols direct an interesting story about fascinating people, he also threw in some hot naked chicks. What more could a guy ask for in a movie?

Just Say No To Popery

Christopher Buckley's bad days are better than other writer's good days. I finally ordered a copy of Campion, a play Buckley wrote with James MacGuire. Buckley has carved out a comfortable niche for himself as a comic novelist, but if this play is anything to go by, he has what it takes to be a dramatist.

There was something odd about the play, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I remembered that Buckley and MacGuire wrote in their introduction to Campion that they really liked A Man For All Seasons.

That's when it hit me. Sir Thomas More and Edmund Campion are used in both of these plays to celebrate the individuals freedom of conscience and religion, but ironically belong to an institution that has never really stood for either of these values.

It doesn't diminish my appreciation of either work, but it does seem odd, now that I think of it, that this paradox is never really dealt with in either Campion or the film adaptation of A Man For All Seasons.

The French Drop

The French Drop is the easiest disappearing coin trick to learn. The mechanics of it are simple, but making the movements look natural is difficult.

I demonstrated this trick to my little nephew while we were waiting for lunch. I used a sugar packet instead of a coin. I was able to hold his attention while I performed the trick, but I don't think he understood what was going on. My sister was a little more impressed with my magical ability, or was at least kind enough to fake it.

Fuck law school honey - I want to be a street magician!

The Holy Grail

Well, it isn't quite as cool as the signed letter (he spelled my name wrong) or the two signed first editions, but I did manage to add something cool to my little P.J. O'Rourke library: the uncorrected proof of On The Wealth of Nations.

There are some collectors who consider an uncorrected proof the real "first edition" of a book. To tell you the truth, I don't really care about that. I'd come across uncorrected proofs when I was working as an editor and freelancer, and it's just nice to own one that is by one of my favorite authors.

Pearls Before Swine

What makes oPtion$:the secret life of steve jobs by fake steve jobs (aka Daniel Lyons) such a funny novel? Well, the humor is counterintuitive, and it's hard to predict which target Lyons is going to go for next. It's the funniest novel I've read since Anonymous Lawyer. Basically, if you thought Team America was funny, you'll probably enjoy this novel.

The novel did get me thinking. The character of "fake steve jobs" is always going on about how he likes to make beautiful objects, which is certainly true about the consumer electronics that Apple makes. However, most of the die hard Apple users I've known in my life are some of the least stylish people I've ever met.

The one person I know who is infintely more stylish and hip than the iBook owner ideal, and admires the iBook's design (from a professional point of view) would rather buy a PC than an Apple laptop.

It seems so strange to spend so much money on design when most of your hardcore afficiandos will never wear a suit and tie, much less put on a pair of clean khakis and loafers for their own wedding.

Car! Part Deux

Last week I was crushed when the draft league street hockey scrimmage was cancelled. As a former Canadian resident, I thought it was odd the game was called on account of snow, but Raue's Pond quickly becomes a wading pool when it gets wet.

This week, the weather was a balmy 52 degrees faranheit, and the concrete was dry as a bone. I managed to stay onside most of the game, but need to be more aggressive when the other team has control of the ball. I can't wait for next weeks game.

Bend Over, I'll Drive

The last time I drove a motor vehicle I was twenty three years old. I'm thirty three years old now, and I just passed the test for my learners permit. People really do get smarter as they get older. When I was seventeen, I had to take the learners permit test three times. I only had to take it twice this time.

Eventually I'll get my U.S. citizenship, and that's what will make me officially American. However, a social security number and a drivers license are really what open up all the doors for a person in this country. The social security number allows you to earn a living. Unless you live in New York, a drivers license, and the mobility that comes with it, is what really allows you to live free or die. I'd rather vote with my gas pedal than a ballot.

An Open Letter to the Pretentious Ass Clown I Spotted on the Washington Metro

There is nothing wrong with being a peacock. I like to let my freak flag fly as high as possible with loud sports jackets and skinny knit ties. A little bit of eccentricity never hurt anyone - I like to clump around in a pair of Doc Martens when I'm wearing a suit.

You were really well turned out. The striped shirt you wore with the grey suit, really made your ensemble "pop", and your necktie (from Brooks Brothers) really "tied the ensemble together", to paraphrase the Dude. The shoes made you look rather dapper, and were buffed, polished, and shined to perfection.

However, your choice of accessory struck me as profoundly silly. You were strutting around with a cane. Why do I think that particular touch was so stupid? Well, your nice striped shirt had a button down collar. It undermined everything you were striving for. Button down collars scream casual, and it undermined all the values you were trying to emulate. An elegant dandy? I think not, my friend. Your little sartorial display marks you as an expensively dressed tool.

Always Be Closing If You Want The Knife Set

The first time I'd ever laid eyes on a piece of art by Takashi Murakami was in Seoul, South Korea. I couldn't read Korean, so I didn't know his name at the time. They had Hiropon, My Lonesome Cowboy, and some of the DOB balloons on display. It was the first time I'd liked an artist without some history textbook telling me it was okay to enjoy his or her work.

I snapped up a bunch of the plastic figurines Murakami sold in convienence stores while I was in Japan. Unfortunately, my Hiropon model got smashed to bits when I shipped it from Osaka to Winnipeg.

Thanks to ebay, I might be able to replace that...statuesque statue. In order to create more leverage for any Murakami figurines that pop up in the future, I've started selling off a bunch of first edition books and hardcovers.

I went from being the guy with his nose pressed up against the store's plate glass window to a small (really, really, small) time wheeler and dealer: capitalism is groovy, baby. Thank you Mr. Murakami and ebay!