Friday, May 7, 2010

Multiple M Weekend

Lots of exciting stuff happening this weekend. First, if you're a mom, you get props for popping a kiddle out - thanks, Mom! And if you're a geek, summer movie season starts with the second Iron Man flick. F1 comes to Spain after a few weeks off, which is exciting, and even without my Kings in the playoffs, there's still lots of action. But most prominent is MAGNA!

After many delays, the band is getting back into the studio, and it will close a very important chapter - the end of drum tracking! Technically, all the parts are already done, but our first pass at "
Vladimir Guerrero" before we really started this recording cycle was done without a click track, which for all the rest of the tunes has made them a little tighter. And once everything else was made that much better, we couldn't let an epic track not get it's due. After we kill the recording , we'll start to put the drums together for guitar and bass overdubs, and get album #2 closer to completion.



But before that happens, we're doing an encore at Rose City Rocks on May 21st. Like last year's festivities, we're playing at the Old Towne Pub hidden in Pasadena. Scartoe was swell enough to
give the exact coordinates so there won't be any trouble finding this gig (or you can look for 66 N. Fair Oaks Blvd on your own)! If you didn't get to Cannibal Flower, here's your chance to get some MAGNA. And as a bonus, I'll spill a big detail - the set is completely filled with songs from the upcoming record.

Best of the week: I'm fascinated with the behind-the-scenes aspects of Disneyland...it's like learning how a magician does a trick. The LA Times had this article about the night crews who spruce up the park and make sure it stays ageless:

When the last Jungle Cruise boat docks for the night and lights fade to black on Sleeping Beauty's Castle, the real work begins. At lush Pixie Hollow, gardeners don miner's headlamps as they begin uprooting stubborn weeds. On Main Street, custodians scrape chewing gum off the sidewalk. And over at Mickey's Toontown, painters sand and recoat chipped handrails. Few see it happen, except perhaps for the dozens of feral cats that emerge from their hiding places to prowl the park after hours, stalking rodents. Welcome to the dark side of Disneyland.

Gone are Mickey and his friends. In their place are about 600 custodians, painters, gardeners and decorators, working to ensure that the 85-acre park meets the squeaky-clean ideals that Walt Disney himself extolled even before he launched the park 55 years ago. During a recent overnight shift, Disneyland provided a rare glimpse into the work that goes into maintaining the world's second-most-popular theme park. Though park officials wouldn't divulge how much money is spent on Disneyland's overall upkeep, they said most is spent on the night shift. And although most guests will never witness the after-hours work, theme park experts credit the park's continued success to its cleanliness and tidy conditions.

"Disney and many other parks recognize that keeping it clean and refreshed, with all of those little details that you don't notice until they are missing, are important to the park's success," said Gene Jeffers, executive director of the Themed Entertainment Assn., a nonprofit organization of designers and builders of theme parks and attractions. It's one of the many reasons attendance at Disneyland jumped 8% last year despite the economic downturn, while the crowd numbers dropped at Southern California competitors like Universal Studios Hollywood, Six Flags Magic Mountain and Knott's Berry Farm, according to a recent estimate.

To keep the park in good order, it takes a crew that works 365 nights a year, toiling under portable floodlights. "It's a city that never sleeps," said David Caranci, the manager of resort enhancement and decorating. "There is something always happening." And for nearly every nighttime task, there is a specific worker. Three workers are responsible solely for repairing and replacing the 800 umbrellas, 25,000 chairs and about 7,000 tables in the restaurants and snack bars in Disneyland and neighboring California Adventure Park. Four certified divers collect submerged trash and make repairs on water attractions like Finding Nemo and the Jungle Cruise.

The work can often be tedious and occasionally bizarre. At the Enchanted Tiki Room, a 17-minute musical show features 225 robotic birds, plants and singing tikis. Patrick Pendleton, the show's primary mechanic, has seen it more times than he can count. To make sure the characters work properly, he plays the show repeatedly, watching each closely. "It's hard to catch everything in one show," he said. Sometimes, the jobs require ingenuity, even for some of the more distasteful chores. For example, the Indiana Jones Adventure ride relies on nearly 1,000 black lights that shine on painted mesh screens to create floating ghost images. But the effect is marred when guests sometimes spit at the ghosts, and the saliva ends up on the screens where it glows under black lights. Because typical cleaning products bleach the screens, David Graefen, the ride's service manager, said his crew created a special saliva-cleaning solution.

Park workers have also found a resourceful way to remove other unwanted guests — rodents. Years ago — no one seems to know when — feral cats began to sneak into the park, living among the park's trees and shrubs during the day. At night, they venture out, and an estimated 200 cats now prowl through Disneyland and neighboring California Adventure Park. But instead of evicting the cats, Disneyland's animal wranglers work to control the feline population by spaying and neutering the adult cats and finding homes for all kittens born in the resort. The cats eat at five permanent feeding stations installed throughout the two parks. "We are not trying to get rid of them," said Gina Mayberry, manager of Disneyland's Circle D ranch, where the park's animals are housed. "They keep the rodent population down."

Other nighttime visitors are not so welcome. Before maintenance crews take over, security workers sweep through the park to find guests hoping to spend the night. (Don't even try hiding on Tom Sawyer's Island — park security knows all the hiding places.) "If someone tried to hide, they would not stay hidden for long," said Disneyland spokeswoman Suzi Brown. The primary goal of the after-hours crew is to pursue Disney's vision of an immaculate land, free of the litter and grime of the outside world.

Walt Disney himself led early efforts, insisting that attractions, gates and benches be repainted on schedule, even if a touch-up would suffice. He made sure light bulbs were replaced even before they burned out and trash cans were emptied before they were full. "When I started on Disneyland, my wife used to say, ‘But why do you want to build an amusement park? They're so dirty.' I told her that was just the point; mine wouldn't be," the founder said at the time. Longtime park fans say Disneyland hasn't always sparkled. In the mid-1990s, they say, park managers turned away from Disney's emphasis on cleanliness to save on maintenance costs. "For 10 years or so, it was horrible," said Al Lutz, founder of MiceAge, a fan website. "That wasn't Disneyland." But with the 50th anniversary of the park approaching in 2005, Disneyland officials renewed the push to operate a spotless park. And they turned, of course, to the night crew to make it happen.

Beginning after midnight, about 300 gardeners work to give the park its trademark manicured look. Spotting tiny pests like aphids and spider mites can be difficult for nighttime gardeners. But Disneyland horticulturalist Steve Fox said his biggest fear was tripping or falling in the dark. "We try not to hurry and try to do the work that is needed as best we can," he said. Meanwhile, the paint crews search for gates, fences, benches or buildings that have become faded, chipped or scratched. But they must use special paint that will dry before guests enter the park in the morning. Some areas such as Mickey's Toontown require special attention. To reverse the effects of thousands of climbing, scampering children, the crews run through gallons of paint a year on the brightly painted cartoonish village. "It's a pretty tough location," Caranci said.

Other overnight workers specialize on repairing damage caused by vandalism. Recently, park decorator Frank Franco worked for several hours at the Indiana Jones Adventure replacing rope that someone had pulled free from the ride's scenery. On a regular basis, Franco said, he finds that visitors have stolen or damaged fake skulls, lengths of bamboo, rope, nets and other props that create the ride's jungle ambiance. Armed with epoxy glue and screws, Franco tries to ensure that the props stay in place. "Every day is something different," he said.

As dawn breaks near Disneyland's Main Street, two custodians complete the final job of the night: scraping dried chewing gum from the pavement with metal blades attached to long poles. Gum is not sold in the park, but the sticky leftovers often end up on sidewalks, benches and tables. Nearby, a crowd has gathered at the park's entrance, waiting to pass through the turnstiles. Park greeter Bob Daisey stands just inside the park and raises his arms to get the visitors' attention. "We are about to open the original and most famous theme park in the world," he calls out, igniting cheers from throngs of fidgeting children. Meanwhile, night custodian Steve Tomatis cleans up the last of the chewing gum on Main Street. It's dirty work, but he knows it's essential to preserving Walt Disney's ideals. "We take care of this when everything else is done," he says. "It's a constant, ongoing problem, but it has to be done."

Plus: Most organs that are removed from bodies for transplants can last only four to eight hours before they become useless. But Harvard researchers have developed what they call “Somah” — a chemical mix that can preserve organs. This video shows a pig heart being revived using this process a day after it was removed from the pig. I'm guessing the rest of it may have ended up bacon.

The researchers harvested hearts from female pigs, stored them in one of the two solutions, then biopsied them at several points over the next four hours. They observed the function of the cardiomyocyte and endothelial cells–both of which must be preserved in order for the transplanted heart to survive over the long term. By measuring key proteins, they determined that the rate of cell death was significantly slower in the Somah-preserved hearts than it was in those stored with Celsior. Their experiments in pigs suggest that Somah keeps hearts and livers viable for at least 10 days. By contrast, solutions such as Celsior can only be counted on to preserve hearts and livers for about four and 12 hours, respectively.

So does this mean your next organ transplant may have a little Somah soaked in? Better than than pig juice.

Also: This is from Puck Daddy, and though it is about our divisional foes, it's still a very interesting read:

Game 2 of the San Jose Sharks' Western Conference semifinal series against the Detroit Red Wings featured one of the most peculiar hockey celebrations in years: a shark with an octopus stitched into its mouth, thrown on the HP Pavilion ice after Joe Pavelski's first-period goal in what was a 4-3 Sharks victory.

That game was played on Sunday, May 2. Back on May 2, 2007, a shark also hit the ice during a San Jose/Detroit playoff game, as a response to the Wings fans' long-standing tradition of throwing octopi on the ice for their team. The same men behind that defiant celebration returned to the Shark Tank to do it again three years later. How did they pull it off then? How did they pull it off now? It's a tale that is equal parts heist movie and sports comedy, from security shakedowns to toxic fish to carefully orchestrated smuggling maneuvers to a large dead shark in a sporting arena. And now it's the stuff of hockey legend.


"Alfonso Bedoya," 63, was the man who tossed the shark. (He requested we go with the pseudonym here, although the posse was exposed in coverage of their 2007 exploits.) He has been playing hockey all his life. His father, an Edmonton native, helped get youth hockey going in the Bay Area. They attended California Golden Seals games together with their Charlie Finley ownership whimsy (green and gold skates) and allegedly served as the cradle of "The Wave." Alfonso said that's where his affinity for hockey absurdity began.

"My dad is 94. He was watching [Game 2] and he's calling me and asking if we're going to [throw the shark]," he said. In 1994, goalie Arturs Irbe helped the
San Jose Sharks upset the Detroit Red Wings in a No. 1 vs. No. 8 series; "ecstasy" for hockey fans in the Bay Area, Alfonso said. The following season took it from ecstasy to tragedy: The Red Wings swept the Sharks, and Alfonso focused his frustrations on the octopi Wings fans would toss on the ice. "It just bugged me," said Alfonso. "And then we didn't play them again for quite a while [in the playoffs]. When we finally did, I called up my cousin and told him we have to respond to the octopus. "We need to throw a shark on the ice. He said, 'I'm in.'"

The 2007 Shark Toss
The 2007 shark toss had its problems and its triumphs. "That wasn't very well-organized. And the shark was too big. It was horrendous," said Alfonso. The conspirators ducked under a freeway overpass and strapped the fish to Alfonso. The shark, stuffed in a garbage bag, was literally tied to his back under a huge down coat. The weight of the thing necessitated a second rope be used to secure it, wrapped around its tail and tied to Alfonso's belt. Alfonso, his nephew and his cousin all had tickets and went to the gate
for Game 4 of the Sharks' series against Detroit. His cousin asked a question of the ticket taker, offering a moment of distraction so Alfonso could slip by with nary a query about the gigantic jacket he was wearing on an 85-degree day.

The first shark toss back in 2007 occurred in the middle of the first period. After it, Alfonso had left for an icy adult beverage when arena security personnel showed up at their seats, where his cousin and his nephew were sitting. Security kept telling those in the section that it was an informational investigation: No one was getting kicked out of the playoff game; they just wanted to know what protocols were breached to allow an adult shark through the turnstiles. His cousin, hearing their intentions, admitted he was part of the operation. They ejected him. They lied to him," said Alfonso. "Then they asked him how he got the shark in, and he said 'You're kicking me out and you think I'm gonna tell ya?' They also told him they had to bring in the hazmat team. He's like, 'IT'S A FISH.'"

Fifteen minutes later, another arena security detail sat next to Alfonso and began asking informal questions about how the shark was smuggled into the game. Alfonso, knowing what any admission of guilt would portend, told him the shark had been "growing under the ice" all that time. Ten minutes after that, Alfonso's cell phone rang and a voice told him to look across the ice at the luxury boxes. It was his cousin, waving at him. A random Sharks fan had to leave in an emergency and bumped into him after he was ejected. Informed that this was the shark-tossing guy, he gave him a pass to the suite. Karma rules.

Lessons Learned
The reaction to the shark toss was positive, as fans buzzed about it in the arena and around the Web afterward. But it wasn't all positive: Some fans didn't understand why they'd throw a dead version of the team's mascot on the ice. Was it symbolic of playoff fate or something, considering the Sharks lost that game in 2007? "This year, we decided to put an octopus in the shark's mouth. People will get that," said Alfonso, who located several mollusks at a Chinese market in San Francisco.

The 2007 experience gave them a base of knowledge heading into their 2010 attempt. For example, finding the shark proved difficult three years ago, so Alfonso and gang got on that task earlier this round: By calling a biological supply company in North Carolina, ordering three sharks that would have been used for dissection and medical examination. When they arrived, the top fins were sliced off, as were the tails. "And there were six pages of Hazmat [expletive] about the formaldehyde stuff," he said, acknowledging that this option wasn't a workable one.

They frantically called all the fish shops in the Bay Area with little luck, as it isn't shark-fishing season. So they went to the docks again and started handing out a cell phone number to fishermen, offering $50 for a shark. About 3:30 p.m. on Saturday, they got the call: There was a 3-foot Leopard shark waiting for them, freshly caught. They had three tickets to the game, all in the upper deck, so they purchased two downstairs, on the blue line, for a large price tag online. Got the tickets. Got the shark, with the previously frozen octopus literally sewn into its jaws by using a large carpet needle. The shark was then stuffed into a garbage bag. Now, how did they get it inside?

The 2010 Shark Toss
The coat thing wasn't going to work, as Sunday was even warmer than that fateful day in 2007. So they used Foster, a lanky 6-foot-3 lacrosse player, as their smuggler: Rubber-banding the shark to his leg, securing it with duct tape and then having him wear a large, baggy pair of sweatpants over it. He shuffled along through security, which once again were distracted by the co-conspirators.

When was the shark released from the leg? During introductions, when the arena goes black and -- oh, the delicious symmetry -- a humungous shark head descends from the rafters as the players skate out. By the end of the introductions, the shark was under the seats, folded neatly in its bag and ready for launch. Because it was freshly caught, there was no odor, no fishy smell at all. They decided they would throw the shark after the first San Jose goal of the night. Did they ever consider that Wings goalie Jimmy Howard might pitch a shutout in Game 2? "Yeah," Alfonso said, "and we would have been [expletive]."

At 9:01 of the first period, with Detroit up 1-0, Joe Pavelski scored on the power play for San Jose. This was it. Foster, the lacrosse guy, reached down and handed Alfonso the shark. (The octopus, at this point, was literally dripping out of its mouth.) He left his seats and ran down through several rows of euphoric fans, stopping just about even at the top of the glass so he wouldn't have to put too much arc on the toss. "As soon as people saw it, as I was carrying it, they were like 'YEAH!'" he recalled. And then he chucked it onto the ice, watching it slide out across the blue line, where Pavelski nearly turned it into sushi with his skate blade. By that time, Alfonso was already headed back up the stairs.

He arrived at the seats and took off his teal shirt and black hat, giving them to another conspirator a few rows away. He donned a grey T-shirt, fading into the menagerie of fans, and then left for the bathroom, high-fiving an usher on the way. How did they avoid another investigation like in 2007? Thought of that one, too: Alfonso switched tickets with one of the upper deckers, who sat down in the lower-bowl seats formerly occupied by Alfonso and the shark with an octopus in its mouth. The arena officials visited between periods, but couldn't develop any leads on the shark-hurler.

Postgame
After the Sharks' victory, the conspirators met to share a laugh and congratulate each other, like the scene at the Bellagio fountains at the end "Ocean's 11," only in a hockey arena parking lot. And with no fountains. Or Brad Pitt. Alfonso began to see and hear the reaction to the exploit in the next 24 hours. He was surprised, for example, that no television cameras caught the shark -- surprised and suspicious, actually, that perhaps it was an intentional omission. Will there be another chance to film a flying shark eating an octopus in Game 5 (if necessary)? "We're retired," he said, with a laugh. "The plan went great, we didn't get thrown out, it went on the ice, it had the octopus, and nobody got caught." Did he hope the success of this plan would inspire others? "That was certainly our hope the first time," he said. "I'd love for it to be a real tradition. But it's damn hard to do."

And: A New Jersey family that lost one daughter rock-climbing four years ago lost a second daughter last week to a vacation tragedy.

Art student Lauren Failla (25) was attacked and killed by a crocodile on April 29 while snorkeling at a tropical island resort in India, authorities said. Failla was was swimming with a friend in the waters off Radhanagar Beach on Havelock Island in Andaman when the croc suddenly struck, according to reports. Her companion reportedly videotaped the attack as the crocodile clamped the victim in its jaws and pulled her to her death. Her body was found on a nearby beach the next day.

Her older sister, Emily, a 24-year-old teacher, fell to her death while rock-climbing in Washington state in July 2006. It's too bad for the family, but if they'd had lower impact hobbies I'm guessing they'd still be alive. The only people to die from stamp collecting were in relation to boredom.

Best picture of the week:

you finally made it big in Hollywood!

Best bonus links:

Christian Right Leader George Rekers Takes Vacation With Rent Boy - Everybody should have the balls to say their gay tryst is just a hired porter because you have a bad back.

The LA Mulholland - These shoes are gorgeous. Big John Fluevog fan, even over the ladies footwear.

Congress, Where 44% Are Millionaires, Freezes Pay - Screw those 56% of losers who don't make the cut. The rich are going to keep them down!

US Capital Okays Medical Marijuana - I okay it too, and I don't even live in D.C. Famous sister is my proxy.

Make Your Own Homemade Pop Tarts - Very helpful if you live in D.C.

Grenada Man Hauls Bucket Of Human Heads To Police - That's not going to start a trend. Next time, bring your firearms to the Guns For Toys exchange.

Health: "We Are Water" - Eric Wareheim makes another oddball video, complete with bloody genitals.

The Greatest, Nerdiest We're Expecting Announcement You Will See All Day - You need to watch if for no other reason then to see something launched into an exhaust port "baby hole".

Musicians Lose Millions In Gear In Nashville Flood - Brad Paisley, Keith Urban, Vince Gill, LeAnn Rimes and others can't make music now. Hooray!

Saw II Director Explains How He Lied His Way Into Hollywood - There's nothing better than someone beating the system

Bedbound By Boobs - This week's automatic entry. I wish I could be bedbound by boobs. Like half a dozen pairs.

Politician Outed By Opponent ... As Straight - Though that picture is compelling evidence to the contrary.

Robert Rodriguez' Illegal Machete Trailer Message To Arizona On Cinco De Mayo - That header is almost as long as the trailer itself. Nevertheless, they still messed with the wrong Mexican.

If You Expect To See Well, You Will - Suck it, optometry! And I'll spare you the carrot story where I ate so many I turned orange.

Sex Degrees Of Charlie Sheen - Me and three other people are the only ones not to have slept with him.

The Dead Fly Artwork Of Magnus Muhr - Not as controversial as his dead kitten phase, but way less mainstream resistance.

Hey, Race Cars Aren’t Supposed To Fly - But sometimes, they can! And it's magical!

Worst of the week: A Brazilian archbishop said adolescents are "spontaneously homosexual" and in need of guidance, while society at large is pedophile. And that's winner of this week's "The Catholic Church is full of crazy idiots" segment!

Archbishop Dadeus Grings — a (quite) conservative priest, took a few momwnts out of a Brazilian bishops conference to say that society's woes are being reflected in the sex abuse scandal enveloping the Roman Catholic Church. "Society today is pedophile, that is the problem. So, people easily fall into it. And the fact it is denounced is a good sign". It's not the priest's at fault for molesting kids - society did it!

That interesting considering that's not exactly in line with Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, the No. 2 official at the Vatican, who said that the sex scandals were linked to homosexuality and not celibacy among priests. Perhaps it's a clever tactic to defect attention. There have been several cases of priests allegedly abusing children that have surfaced in Brazil in recent months. Naturally, Grings denounced the abuse within the church, but he said internal punishment of priests guilty of abuse was sufficient and that police should not be involved. Right - so that the secret stays hidden for another generation.

The archbishop also said it was important to help children avoid homosexuality. "We know that the adolescent is spontaneously homosexual. Boys play with boys, girls play with girls," he said. "If there is no proper guidance, this sticks. The question is — how are we going to educate our children to use a sexuality that is human and suitable?" Grings also said the acceptance of homosexuality in society could pave the way for the acceptance of pedophilia. "When sexuality is trivialized, it's clear that this is going to affect all cases. Homosexuality is such a case. Before, the homosexual wasn't spoken of. He was discriminated against. When we begin to say they have rights, rights to demonstrate publicly, pretty soon, we'll find the rights of pedophiles," he said. The only pedophiles and homosexuals in this equation are on the Church side, so what kind of case are you making exactly?

The archbishop has made stupid, controversial comments in the past. In 2003, he argued that only 1 million Jews died in the Holocaust, though a few years later he recanted. Last year, he outraged Jewish groups in Brazil by telling a magazine that "more Catholics than Jews died in the Holocaust, but this isn't known because the Jews control the world's media."

For pennance, say one"fuck the Church" and three "shut your goddamn lying mouth".

Plus: This is video of a SWAT raid on a family in Missouri. The officers found a small amount of cannabis, and so they arrested the parents on a charge of child endangerment. But did it require the overkill as seen in the clip?

Poster Radly Balko (that's your name? really?)said, "It's horrifying, but I'd urge you to watch it, and to send it to the drug warriors in your life. This is the blunt-end result of all the war imagery and militaristic rhetoric politicians have been spewing for the last 30 years -- cops dressed like soldiers, barreling through the front door middle of the night, slaughtering the family pets, filling the house with bullets in the presence of children, then having the audacity to charge the parents with endangering their own kid. There are 100-150 of these raids every day in America, the vast, vast majority like this one, to serve a warrant for a consensual crime."

Okay hippie, take it easy. We get the point though - it's not cool to live in a police state.

Also: A Los Angeles County Superior Court commissioner has ordered Dodgers owner Frank McCourt to pay his estranged wife, Jamie, $637,159 a month in temporary spousal support, plus lawyers' fees pending their divorce. Thanks, commissioner dickbag!

The amount falls short of the $988,845 that Jamie McCourt requested, and more than half that requested amount ($568,829), her lawyers said, is needed to pay the costs, including mortgages, of seven homes and an eighth piece of property in Mexico that are listed in her name. And who's to say eight houses in this economy is too many? Her lawyers argued that spousal support should include those costs since her estranged husband used to contribute funds to the housing. The commissioner specified that $412,159 of the monthly total should go to payment of costs associated with the properties, but ordered the property in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, to be sold. No, not the beach house!

In the months since she made her ridiculous request, Jamie McCourt has been vilified in the court of public opinion and in the courtroom -- where her husband's attorney likened her to Marie Antoinette. I don't know what they said, but if there's anything related to cutting her head off then I agree. Both sides concur in court that the couple has lived lavishly but they have bitterly disagreed over how Jamie McCourt should sustain that lifestyle during the divorce proceedings.

Her lawyers argued that Frank McCourt has access to $18 million annually and should not withhold from his wife the funds she needs to maintain the lifestyle that they created together. I live on less than 1/100th of that just fine, so put that begging hand away, lady. "They were their houses and the title was just in her name," her civil attorney said of the properties. "Jamie didn't go out and buy two houses in Holmby Hills and two houses in Malibu.... They bought two houses in Holmby Hills and two houses in Malibu." So then she didn't buy them and isn't entitled to them.

The court filings on spousal support has also invited curiousity, from the descriptions of their houses and their stays in the finest hotels to the personal hairstylists for both husband and wife. But the spousal support fight is just a small part of the couple's disagreement. The bigger source of conflict -- which could have major consequences outside their marriage -- is over ownership of the Dodgers. Frank McCourt argues that he alone owns the baseball team. Jamie McCourt says they share ownership. The trial on that issue is scheduled to begin in late August.

And: A chef has died after an eel was put up his ass. No, this didn't happen in West Hollywood.

Shocked doctors in Sichuan, China, found the sea creature in the 59-year-old man's rectum after his death. The Asian swamp eel was allegedly inserted into the unnamed man's bottom, after he passed out drunk, by pals playing a prank on him. Medics said the eel had devoured his bowels. Pranks are fun, but let's look at some of the facts here:

1) somebody had to not only come up with the idea of shoving an eel up this guy's ass, but also had to say that out - "hey, let's shove an eel up his ass"

2) everybody else agreed it was a good idea to shove an eel up a guy's ass

3) one of them located an eel, with the express purpose of shoving it up a guy's ass

4) somebody pulled this guy's pants down and exposed his ass so that an eel could be shoved in it

5) at least one person had to shove an eel in a guy's ass

6) after shoving the eel up a guy's ass, none of them reconsidered if shoving an eel up a guy's ass was a bad idea

So I guess it was a pretty good prank after all.

Worst picture of the week:

when Assy Pig Tank met 12 Year Old Lesbian

Worst bonus links:

'Bones' Star David Boreanaz Admits To Infidelity - I knew Hollywood was full of douches who can't keep their dicks in their pants, but this clown was married to a former Playboy playmate. Dude, if you're not good tagging playmate ass, just fuck off.

World's Oldest Person Dies A Week Short Of 115th Birthday - Bummer you're not going to get to see Iron Man 2. They've got an extra scene at the end of the movie!

Spanish Face Transplant Patient Goes Public - Too soon! Too soon! The pictures all look like the before, not the after.

Leno’s Crappy Jokes Were Recycled - Doing a cherry gig for the president, and you can't even get fresh material. Lazy chin.

Sully Could Have Made it Back to the Airport - Not such a hero now, are you captain? Serves you right for making a split second decision that doesn't jibe with the hindsight of tested flight simulators!

Massachusetts Woman With No Arms Preparing For Black Belt - We can all be thrilled for having indomitable spirit, but this is just a joke, right? I'm pretty sure I could kick her armless ass, and all the training I ever had was being a sparring dummy for Herr Doctor in 9th grade. this is wht worst thing to happen to martial arts since the black Karate Kid remake.

L.A. Orders 439 Medical Marijuana Dispensaries To Close - I order them to wait until I finish placing my order!

Post-Boob Job Kate Hudson Feels Like a Princess - Her boobs feel like a princess? She's the only actress to get fake tits who doesn't look like they got implants at all.

Duh, TV Makes Kids Fat and Stupid - Um, well...duh!

Off-Duty LAPD Officer Was Legally Drunk When She Died In Car Crash - Looks like some of the uniforms need to pay more attention to the D.A.R.E. training.

23-Year-Old Wins $1M Playing Baseball Video Game - He's probably not going to mind when he only gets $3 selling it back to GameStop. But that is too much money to win for playing any video game. Ever.

The Drug Cartel's Diamond-Studded Gun Cache - What happened to the good old days where too much moeny in the drug trade meant imported sports cars, exotic prostitutes, and lots of drugs?

Study: Older, Unmarried, Educated Moms On Rise - If you are older and unmarried with a child, 'educated' must be used fairly loosely.

One Chinese Baby Born With Syphilis Every Hour - Finally, they found a way to harm the children faster than using their toxic food, toys, and medicine!

World's Biggest Beaver Dam Discovered In Northern Canada - It would have made the other link group until I realized what they were talking about. And did somebody really measure it and compare it to the previous record holder?

Adriana Lima: It Was Easy Losing My Baby Weight - That's not a very PC way to discuss having an abortion, you boastful bitch.

Naked Scanner Reveals Airport Screener's Tiny Penis, Sparks Fist Fight With Fellow Officers - That's our TSA...harrassing each either over tiny dicks when they should be focused on bigger dicks trying to blow up our planes.

American Able (Or, Not Quite American "Amateurs")

What if American Apparel and their well known butt contests, pubic hair ads, and porn star models, just, well...weren't?

To help you envision it is disabled model is Jes Sachse and photographer / creator of the project is Holly Norris. The series, called American Able, was done by the Canadian women’s studies student "because of the company’s claim that its models are girls next door, when, in fact, the American Apparel model standard of beauty adheres to pretty traditional standards of beauty, at least by American standards." Yep, that sounds like a Canadian women's studies major to me.

So Norris replaced Sasha "Throat: A Cautionary Tale" Grey with Sachse, to put disabled women in places “where women with disabilities are typically excluded.” Read: such as American Apparel ads. “Too often, the pervasive influence of imagery in mass media goes unexamined, consumed en masse by the public,” Norris writes. “However, this imagery has real, oppressive effects on people who are continuously ‘othered’ by society.”

Wait, you think that the ridiculous, hypersexualized American Apparel ads are "unexamined" and simple consumed by the public? Do you not have interweb in Canada, because I can think of several blogs that routinely take aim at the ads: Copyranter, Jezebel (312 tabbed posts!), Gawker (477 tabbed posts!) and even on occasion, this site. A Google search will turn up thousands of different online versions of newspaper and blog articles on them - and we'll only talk about that because this is the web realm; there's plenty of other media that do their analysis. By the way, Sasha Grey's sweet ass is something I want to see in boyshorts because I find it attractive. Physically deformed asses in revealing clothes - not at all. And that's preference based on taste, not socieo-feministic handicapped discriminatory rhetoric, so let's not even waste time on that front.

And as for oppressing the "othered", how is it that you've singled them out in all of advertising and media? Is it more pervasive or influential than Vogue or Cosmopolitan or In Style or People? the answer is no. And why is it American Apparel's responsibility featured the disabled? Uh, it's not. According to this research, there's almost 1 in 5 that are classified as disabled, though they point out that:

While many people automatically think of physical limitations such as being in a wheelchair when they think of disabilities, more than 16 million of those with disabilities were classified as having difficulty
with mental functioning, emotional functioning and cognitive functioning. This group of disabled people included those who are severely anxious or depressed, and those who have issues concentrating, dealing with stress, and functioning in social situations.

Chairs, humps, limps or not, there's clearly too many disabled people out there to ever call them "othered" by a society they make up a fair portion of. And if there is disdain for the lack of representation, then where is the outcry from those groups and people? It really doesn't exist. Much like Sarah Palin's uninvited and unnecessary defense of the handicapped, is this just another able bodied person making a point that doesn't need to be made because it's completely wrong, and therefore doesn't matter?

Sure, supposing Harmony Korine started doing apparel ads, this would be mildly interesting, but I don't think it really qualifies as any statement, and certainly not even noteworthy on the women's studies / disabled front. You can sex up a disabled person in satire of pop culture, but anything beyond that is more exploitation than exultation.

Hang Down Slang, Or The Dirty Half-Dozen

The always excellent Susannah Breslin (aka The Reverse Cowgirl) brought this turd gem to my attention:




A brand new dance craze is sweeping the nation — or at least YouTube. It’s got a dirty name, all the young folks are doing it, and if you’re a girl, you can’t do it. Now, the kinky move is kicking up a controversy. So, what is it, and what’s all the fuss about?

It’s called the Dick Slang, and it made its sensation-generating internet debut last week, it seems, when a group of young African-American men uploaded a two-minute, eight-second clip of themselves demonstrating how the Dick Slang is done.

For those who remain unclear on the Dick Slang concept, the move isn’t complicated. The young man plants his feet, swivels his hips, looks down, and, well, watches his dick slang — or “swing.” The effect is impressive. Several of the video’s half-dozen Dick Slangers are either frighteningly well-endowed or have stuffed their pants for an enhanced on-camera performance. When it comes to competitive Dick Slanging, the bigger the package, the mightier the move.

Since, the video has been watched by over 280,000 viewers and climbing, generated scores of shocked, outraged, and impressed comments, and prompted impassioned response videos mostly criticizing the Dick Slang phenomenon and its Slangers. “Fire your damn choreographer,”
counsels BiggaBX, who deems Dick Slanging “Gayyyy!!” Meanwhile, TheOneofakind17 posted a reaction video of himself watching the Dick Slang video for the first time, and he is not amused.

“You straight dudes never cease to amaze me,” he concludes, shaking his head. Perhaps most savvily, one YouTuber, Wa2tv, created a montage homage: “
Moments in Modern Day Minstrel (#Dick Slang).” The titles read: “Makes me wanna bleach my skin … what about you?” Soon enough, the Dick Slang will hit MTV, young white kids will start doing it on dance floors across the nation, and parents will have something new to wail about — the dance that dare not speak its name.

It was either make this video or take a practice college prep, and I think they made the decision that suited them best.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Supreme Fucking Court

In a decisive and vulgar 7-2 ruling, the U.S. Supreme Court once again upheld the constitution's First Amendment this week, calling the freedom of expression among the most "inalienable and important rights that a motherfucker can have."

"It is the opinion of this court that the right to speak without censorship or fear of intimidation is fundamental to a healthy democracy," Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg wrote for the majority. "Furthermore, the court finds that the right to say whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want, is not only a founding tenet, but remains essential to the continued success of this nation."

Added Ginsburg, "In short, freedom of speech means the freedom of fucking speech, you ignorant cocksuckers."

The decision came Monday in response to the case of a Charleston, WV theater troupe that had been sued by city officials for staging a sexually explicit play with public funds. Reversing the 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals' decision, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the theater, an outcome free-speech advocates are calling a victory and Justice Ginsburg called "a bitch-slap in the face of all those uptight limp-dicks."

The ruling in City of Charleston v. The Kanawha Players marks the first time in 220 years that the nation's highest court has taken such a fiercely profane stance.

During oral arguments, Charleston's chief counsel Dan Roy said his clients could restrict any public speech they deemed offensive, an argument quickly dismissed by Justice John Paul Stevens, 90, who turned to his colleagues and made a repeated up-and-down hand motion intended to simulate masturbation.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you really understand what 'abridging the freedom of speech' means at all," said Stevens, a 34-year veteran of the court known for his often-nuanced interpretations of the First Amendment. "I'm also wondering whether you and your fat-faced plaintiffs over there need to have some respect for constitutionally protected expression fucked into your empty hick skulls."

Justice Clarence Thomas, who voted with the majority, wrote a concurring opinion in which he made little mention of established court precedents but emphasized that he himself had viewed materials "way, way nastier than this stupid play."

"I don't know what kind of bullshit passes for jurisprudence down in the 4th Circuit these days," Thomas wrote. "But those pricks can take their arguments about speech that 'appeals only to prurient interests' and go suck a dog's asshole."

Added Thomas, "Just suck it. Get in there and seriously suck it."

Writing in dissent, however, Justice Antonin Scalia contemplated the limits of the constitutional guarantee of free speech.

"The court has an interest in protecting meaningful human communication, which is jeopardized when every other word out of someone's mouth is 'F this' or 'F that,'" Scalia wrote. "In practice, such an expansion of free expression becomes far too unwieldy and large to accommodate."

To which Justice Ginsberg immediately replied, "Yeah, that's what his mom said."

Conservative constitutional scholars have criticized the Supreme Court's decision, calling it not only a license to provoke, but also an act of provocation in itself, one that saw several justices repeatedly refer to the plaintiffs as "fuckwits," "asshats," and "cumsacks" before informing them that with their appeals exhausted, their only remaining legal recourse would be to "piss up a rope or take two fists in the mommy slot."

More than 18 months after the suit was first brought against the theater group, defense lawyers said the road to the Supreme Court was "hard as shit," but well worth it.

"This is a historic victory for free speech, and I wouldn't be surprised if, a hundred years from now, the hallowed walls of this court bear an inscription taken from the eloquent decision handed down today," lead defense attorney Carl Huddleston said. "Particularly the phrase 'That which erodes human rights serves to erode humanity, fuckface.'"


(The Onion, FTMFW)

American "Amateurs"

Jezebel also shares my loathing of American Apparel's ad campaigns, which are equal parts softcore porn and a Chris Hansen. And not all that genuine.

The story that American Apparel tells about its models — that they are, to a (half-naked) woman, employees, friends of Dov Charney, "real people" and never professional models — is one much cherished by the company. It's also a lie.

It might have been the case in 2004, when Jane reporter Claudine Ko — in front of whom company founder Charney masturbated repeatedly while she was reporting her story — wrote that most of the brand's models are girls Charney street-casts. Back then, American Apparel was a relatively small company, and girls with non-modelish looks made it onto its billboards regularly. It may even have still been true in 2006, when the Financial Times reported that the company "works exclusively with non-professional models."

It was definitely not true in 2008, when the company said, "Unlike almost everyone in the fashion industry, American Apparel doesn't use professional models and agencies. Our models are mostly people who work here at the factory." (And also: "We don't objectify.") It was demonstrably false by the time Fox quoted the company last month as saying its ads "are evocative because they feature real people instead of professional models done up with makeup artists or Photoshop. American Apparel's website is filled with photos of friends, employees and fans of the company who volunteered or even collaborated by submitting self-portraits." It's a silly falsehood that's been repeated by the Guardian, Newsweek, the Independent, the Times of London, and the New York Times, among others. This should stop.

American Apparel's gaggle of utterly conventionally beautiful and slender women are not "factory workers." They may be "friends of Dov," but many of them do not work for the company he founded. You will not bump into an American Apparel model working the register at the store nearest you. For many, despite the fact that the disingenuous little bios that sometimes still run in American Apparel ads often claim them as employees, the only paycheck they've ever cashed is for the time they spent modeling for the brand. Some may be "real people," and the company may in fact not use Photoshop during its post-production process — although all we have standing behind that claim is Charney's word. But some of them are definitely models. Professional models. Represented by agencies.

'American

If you've ever looked at an American Apparel ad and wondered how the tall, beautiful woman in it could possibly not be a professional model, your instincts are correct. I've personally known several models who've moonlighted for American Apparel for a quick buck, though I won't out any of them here. I don't have to: just this week, 5'11" Australian model Zanita Whittington, pictured, who has a photo blog and is represented by the agencies Models 1 in London and Priscillas in Sydney, was confirmed as a face of the company; she's flying to L.A. to shoot the campaign. While it's possible that the company is interested in Whittington at least partly as a blogger — Whittington's site already carries American Apparel ads — the fact that she's an international model can't hurt.

'American

The American Apparel model the company identifies as Mele is in fact Mele Vazquez, a 23-year-old and, yes, a professional model. (She seems to be represented by Elite.) In this interview, she says she's worked as a model for eight years. Vazquez told Platform magazine, "I started modeling when I was 16. I got discovered at this super cheesy model search that my mom entered me in. Since then I've traveled the world, Australia, New Zealand, all over Europe. I'm still modeling full time here in LA." When Dov Charney "discovered" her, Vazquez had in fact already been a professional model for seven years. Another non-factory-worker American Apparel model is Alanna Drasin. She goes to Brandeis and although she doesn't appear to be represented by any agency, it's a stretch to call anyone who's modeled since she was 17, and can rattle off a list of clients to match, an "amateur."

'American

It's true that American Apparel does not work within the traditional agency system — it doesn't call agencies and request girls for castings, for instance, and the models whom it books don't have to pay their agents a cut. But the number of professionals who end up in American Apparel ads regardless indicates that this policy is largely one of financial convenience rather than any search for a "real" aesthetic. Agencies would certainly negotiate better rates on their models' behalf.

'American

And of course, the company also has models who are not shopgirls, but porn stars. Charlotte Stokely, who originally was identified by American Apparel as an "employee" named "Britney", and Faye Reagan, whom American Apparel called an "employee" named "Jillian" have been appearing in ads since 2008; so have adult stars Avy Lee Roth and Sasha Grey. We've mentioned this before; it's not news.

So why do people keep repeating the lie that all American Apparel models are amateurs, "real people," and not, you know, 5'10" girls with agencies and books full of tears, or women who spend their days making porn in the valley rather than making t-shirts at the factory? The fiction that American Apparel ads are populated by company employees and their friends, and that this circle just happens to be entirely comprised of statuesque, high-cheekboned übermensch who have something against pants, is a very generative construct for the brand. The seductive/reductive concept is, as ever, "Buy this and look and you will look and feel like she does." The ads certainly carry the illusion of the "real," in the sense that they don't seem overproduced or overly thought out — that white space! that font! it's so simple!

But advertising is all lies. Louis Vuitton's ads are lies; your $500 wallet is not being lovingly hand-made by photogenic leatherworkers, it is in fact stitched on a machine in a factory. We should no more believe that "Charlene" is "a cashier at the Los Altos store" and a "part-time makeup artist" than we should believe that the caveman on the insurance ads is an actual Neanderthal. And the cynical news media ought to have learned by now that American Apparel is not a company worthy of anyone's credulity.

If American Apparel actually shot its ads on "real" people, and not professional models, it might be interesting. It might look something like this. It will never happen, but can we at least retire the bullshit idea that American Apparel eschews professional models in search of a more "realistic" feminine ideal?

Dancing Frankly



And there's still two more parts yet to make it to the interweb...

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Why Not Just Write Some Shitty, Manic Poetry Instead

Depressed over a breakup? British advice columnist Danny Dyer says the solution is to "cut your ex's face, and then no one will want her." That'll let her know you're not the bitter one that can't get over it.

A lovelorn 23-year-old wrote to Dyer saying he "broke up with my missus a few months ago and can't seem to get over her." Dyer's response:

You've got nothing to worry about, son. I'd suggest going out on a rampage with the boys, getting on the booze and smashing anything that moves. Then, when some bird falls for you, you can turn the tables and break her heart. Of course, the other option is to cut your ex's face, and then no one will want her...

Not surprisingly, the "Ask Danny" column runs in ZOO magazine, one of the last remaining lad mags still in circulation. And like all other PG boy wank publications, they are not known for having a progressive attitude toward women. But outcry over Dyer's apparent advocacy of domestic violence has embarrassed even ZOO, who don't bat an eye when publishing things like "Topless World Cup Countdown!" and "Babe Election!".

A spokesperson for ZOO publisher Bauer Media told the Guardian that the column was the result of a "regrettable production error." Error? Like letting things go to press without an editor? The same explanation was posted on ZOO's website. And Dyer himself says:

This is totally out of order, I am totally devastated. I have been completely misquoted. This is not the advice I would give any member of the public I do not condone violence against women.

"Misquoted" in your own column? Or do you not write your own copy? Maybe somebody typoed, when it should have said "slit that bitch's throat".

City Peepers

The New York authorities instruct: If You See Something, Say Something. That's how they found the weekend car bomb! Of course, this is hardly practical, since you see something pretty much every day in if you live in the Big Crapple. So when exactly should you say something? GAWKER has a guide:

If you see: Vehicles parked haphazardly in Times Square with smoke emanating from them, say something.
If you see: Vehicles parked haphazardly in a non-tourist area with smoke emanating from them, make sure you're not parked next to them.

If you see: A Muslim man with a long beard standing on a street corner screaming "Death to America," and that man is in fact Osama bin Laden, say something.
If you see: Any other Muslim man with a long beard standing on a street corner screaming "Death to America," it's just those crazy shouty dudes.

If you see: An angry person pull out a knife and stab a fellow subway passenger, say something.
If you see: An angry person pull out a knife and nobody has been stabbed just yet, run.

If you see: A sweaty, suspicious, nervous character on the subway reaching into his backpack, which contains a homemade bomb, say something.
If you see: A sweaty, suspicious, nervous character on the subway reaching into his backpack, that's me coming home from work, GOD why are all you people TOUCHING me?

If you see: An unattended bag left in a crowded area, and when you peek inside that bag it is full of shrapnel and a timer and lots of wires and shit, say something.
If you see: An unattended bag left somewhere, do you know how many bags there are in this fucking city?

If you see: A plane flying alarmingly low over Manhattan, say something.
If you see: A plane flying alarmingly low over Queens, you live in Queens.

If you see: Several men piling machine guns into the trunk of a car while loudly discussing how they are about to use those machine guns to carry out a deadly attack on a crowded civilian target in New York City, say something.
If you see: Several men piling machine guns into the trunk of a car, that's gangsta.

Living In The Limelight

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Pencil Versus Camera

At the start of his series, Benjamin Heine first overlayed his own simplified pencil sketches on top the real settings from which they were drawn. Eventually, he took the liberty of layering other subjects onto the original settings.



Hey Man Nice Shot

A British sniper set a world sharpshooting record by taking out two Taliban soldiers in Afghanistan from more than a mile and a half away -- a distance so great, experts say the terrorists wouldn't have even heard the shots. But they sure felt them.

Craig Harrison killed the two insurgents from the incredible distance of 8,120 feet (1.54 miles) in the Helmand Province last November, using his Accuracy International L11583 long-range rifle, which lived up to it's name. The shots were roughly equal to the distance between the Statue of Liberty and Battery Park (for you New Yorkers, in case those numbers were too hard to compute). The first round hit a machine-gunner in the stomach and killed him outright. The second insurgent grabbed his weapon and turned as Harrison's shot hit him in the side, taking him down.

The shots, measured via GPS, surpassed the previous record held by Canadian Army Cpl. Rob Furlong, who killed an al Qaeda gunman from 7,972 feet in 2002. Experts called Harrison's sharp shooting as perfect as it gets. "When you are shooting that far, if you miss by a hair, you miss by a mile," said John Plaster, a retired US Army sharp-shooting instructor. "That is about as precise as any marksmen on the planet could shoot." Harrison's targets likely never knew what was coming. "At a distance like that they cannot even see anyone and they would not even hear the muzzle report."

Harrison, who fired the bullets while his colleagues were under fire, said perfect weather helped him nail the perfect shot. "[There was] no wind, mild weather, clear visibility." He learned of his record nine days ago, when he returned to England to recuperate from a minor gunshot wound and broken arms sustained when his vehicle hit a roadside bomb. The insurgents found out instantly.

Cup-Boom

Monday, May 3, 2010

Star Wars Lotería

Chepo Peña and his trilogy-related tribute to the images from the Mexican Lotería card-game.















The Ubiquitous Legacy Of Laszlo Büch

The New York Times seems the appropriate organ to take this story from:

It was for decades the most enduring piece of ephemera in New York City and is still among the most recognizable. Trim, blue and white, it fits neatly in the hand, sized so its contents can be downed in a New York minute. It is as vivid an emblem of the city as the Statue of Liberty, beloved of property masters who need to evoke Gotham at a glance in films and on television.

It is, of course, the Anthora, the cardboard cup of Grecian design that has held New Yorkers’ coffee securely for nearly half a century. Introduced in the 1960s, the Anthora was long made by the hundreds of millions annually, nearly every cup destined for the New York area.

A pop-cultural totem, the Anthora has been enshrined in museums; its likeness has adorned tourist memorabilia like T-shirts and ceramic mugs. Like many once-celebrated artifacts, though, the cup may now be endangered, the victim of urban gentrification.

The Anthora seems to have been here forever, as if bestowed by the gods at the city’s creation. But in fact, it was created by man — one man in particular, a refugee from Nazi Europe named Leslie Buck.

Mr. Buck, a retired paper-cup company executive, died on Monday, at 87, at his home on Long Island, in Glen Cove. The cause was complications of Parkinson’s disease, his son Robert said. Mr. Buck, previously a longtime resident of Syosset, N.Y., also had a home in Delray Beach, Fla.

The Anthora has spawned a flock of imitations by competitors over the years, but it was first designed by Mr. Buck for the Sherri Cup Company in Kensington, Conn.

Mr. Buck’s cup was blue, with a white meander ringing the top and bottom; down each side was a drawing of the Greek vase known as an amphora. (“Anthora” comes from “amphora,” as filtered through Mr. Buck’s Eastern European accent, his son said.) Some later imitators depict fluted white columns; others show a discus thrower.

On front and back, Mr. Buck emblazoned the Anthora with three steaming golden coffee cups. Above them, in lettering that suggests a Classical inscription, was the Anthora’s very soul — the motto. It has appeared in many variant texts since then; Mr. Buck’s original, with its welcome intimations of tenderness, succor and humility, was simply this:

We Are Happy

To Serve You.

Though the Anthora no longer dominates the urban landscape as it once did, it can still be found at diners, delis and food carts citywide, a squat, stalwart island in a sea of tall, grande and venti. On the street, it warms the harried hands of pedestrians. Without the Anthora, “Law & Order” could scarcely exist.

Laszlo Büch was born on Sept. 20, 1922, to a Jewish family in Khust, then in Czechoslovakia. (It is today in Ukraine.) His parents were killed by the Nazis during World War II; Laszlo himself survived Auschwitz and Buchenwald.

After the war, Mr. Buck made his way to New York, where he Americanized his name and ran an import-export business with his brother, Eugene, who had also survived the camps. In the late 1950s or thereabouts, the brothers started Premier Cup, a paper-cup manufacturer in Mount Vernon, N.Y.

Leslie Buck joined Sherri Cup, then a startup, in the mid-’60s. Originally the company’s sales manager (for a time, he was its entire sales force), he later became its director of marketing.

Sherri was keen to crack New York’s hot-cup market. Since many of the city’s diners were owned by Greeks, Mr. Buck hit on the idea of a Classical cup in the colors of the Greek flag. Though he had no formal training in art, he executed the design himself. It was an instant success.

Mr. Buck made no royalties from the cup, but he did so well in sales commissions that it hardly mattered, his son said. On his retirement from Sherri in 1992, the company presented Mr. Buck with 10,000 specially made Anthoras, printed with a testimonial inscription.

Besides his son, Robert, and brother, Eugene, Mr. Buck is survived by his wife, the former Ella Farkas, whom he married in 1949; two daughters, Beverly Eisenoff and Linda Rush; and four grandchildren.

In recent years, with the gentrification of the city and its brew, demand for the humble Anthora has waned. In 1994, Sherri sold 500 million of the cups, as The New York Times reported afterward. In 2005, the Solo Cup Company, into which Sherri had been absorbed, was selling about 200 million cups a year, The Times reported.

Today, Solo no longer carries the Anthora as a stock item, making it only on request. Other companies still turn out versions of the cup, though not in the quantities of its 20th-century heyday.

But given the tenacious traditionalism of many locals (“Avenue of the Americas,” anyone?), it is safe to assume that the Anthora and its heirs will endure, at least for a while, in the city’s steadfast precincts. For some time to come, on any given day, somewhere a New Yorker will be cradling the cup, with its crisp design and snug white lid, the stuff of life inside.

Not For The Claustrophobic