The More Things Change...

as i was browsing the news headlines on google, i spotted the name, kurt loder. i thought what? kurt loder? and then he was writing for mtv.com. and i thought, wait, what is going on? first the kids in the bell bottoms and the drop-waist dresses and the mohawks and now kurt loder is on mtv? am i stuck in time? but then why do my knees feel so old.

for those of you who are thinking - kurt who? i shall clarify. kurt did mtv news BAAAACK in the day. by the time we go to the nineties he was already old for mtv. folk wondered when he was going to leave this network for the youths? how could he remain relevant. and south park portrayed him as a haggard grandpa. in the nineties. now he must look like the keeper of the crypt. i should try watching an episode of south park.

and who has worked at mtv for as long as kurt? i can't think of anyone. i'm sure he's been there since "video killed the radio star." maybe he's their good luck mascot, their rabbit's foot or four-leaf clover, so to speak. maybe in the morning when people get to work, they walk by kurt loder and rub his tummy for luck. what fun. is he ticklish? does he giggle uncontrollably, like the pilsbury doughboy, as people walk in and rub away? and then that puts a smile on everyone's face and mtv is then a brighter, more fun place to be. yep. that must be it.

Bad Medicine

my current default magazine is new york magazine. i like that the articles can be long, but not too long. i love that it tells me a lot about what is going on in new york. and it's great because i can sit on the train, get through it, and sound all finger on the pulsy about issues and, just like great icing, there's a crossword puzzle on the back page.

so a couple of weeks ago the mag does a piece on suicide tourism - it seems more people than normal (however normal is calculated) travel to new york to kill themselves. hmmm... interesting, but not as facsinating as the documentary film "the bridge" that kept me awake for two weeks. but then, continuing with the morbid subject matter, the next week there was a piece about death on the subway tracks.

58 people died on the subway tracks. 58!!! thats like more than one a week. and i heard about like maybe 4 of them. and i'm just saying that so i sound like i heard about something but, beyond the subway hero (who didn't die) i can't think of any adventures on the tracks i read about. i am already paranoid about those tracks. i watched those breakdance movies in the '80s and i don't know how people can tell which track is electrified, because i sure as heck can't. and what if something goes awry and the wrong track gets the current? i just have an image of a youth being zapped seared into my memory. apparently most of those deaths are suicides (no numbers given).

some were homeless or drunk people who wandered onto the tracks. those are some brave wanderers. have they not seen those tracks? the rats are as big as blooming cats! massive. and the tracks are vile, soggy dark places. i don't know how anyone went down there to breakdance or grafitti. brave.

others fell onto the tracks while urinating between cars or surfing on top of cars. and then a final lot fell or were pushed onto the tracks. and you see, that last category could be me. and so it's like new york magazine looked into a receded corner of my mind and pulled out a fear, told me it was completely rational and ran with it. and then made me work in places with narrow, crowded platforms.

so, if you are on that platform and you see someone clinging to the wall behind them for dear life or taking that extra step back when a train is approaching, just say hi pandave and wag a finger at the new york magazine. what happened to the "best places to eat" stories???

Darkness

you know what really gets my goat? i know, i know, you're thinking, "pandave, shall we bring sandwiches to this picnic, it's probably going to take a while." so let me whittle it down a bit. you know what gets my goat today? oh, no still too long a list. okay, right now. what gets my goat right now?

ELECTRICITY. nigeria's electricity to be precise.

my dear friend kai has been in nigeria for years now and, if i quoted her every time she said the lights were out, i would have a tome to challenge war and peace. but let me tell you what gets me riled up. first of all, when obasanjo came into power he was all giddy with the excitement of his win that he made all kinds of promises - one of them being "uninterrupted power" for Lagos. two terms later, the one thing i could guarantee with kai was that the lights would go out while we were chatting online. and that she would be spending a substantial amount of time queuing for petrol to power the generator (and don't get me started on why folk in the 6th largest oil producer in opec has people queuing for overpriced petrol). and one thing she could be sure of was a monthly electric bill that never took into account the atrocious service the power supplier was giving. instead people were just expected to shake their heads and resignedly sigh "ah, NEPA (National Electricity Power Authority)". of course obasanjo never went a day in the dark. he never had to figure out how to sleep in the heat of summer with no air conditioner. he never had to wonder what he was going to do about all the stuff rotting in his fridge.

we now have had a new president and still no power. and now kai goes for days, no weeks, on end with no power. she now has two generators and tries not to think about how much money she could save if she didn't have to spend it all on petrol for the generator.

and so now i read on the bbc that obasanjo has written a letter trying to defend his lack of progress. he refused to attend said meeting, he said, because the person who signed the invitation was too lowly for his attention. not because he should be too ashamed to try to defend the $16 billion that have been spent with no improvement in power supply. not because he would be hard pressed to the payment of millions to 34 companies that never existed. because maybe someone at the meeting might ask him what happened to the promises that he made. instead, he implored the investigation panel to stop looking into what is going on because this would scare off private investors - as they don't want to feel "criminalised". oh yes panel, you stop your probe because the previous probeless years resulted in such gains... financially... for the investors who just had to sit around and wait for the hook up.

yeah, let's just keep on lining up for fuel for our generators and sitting in stifling darkness so that billions more can be spent making private partners feel good. as long as the presidential palace has uninterrupted power, that is what matters. the rest of you can just eat cake batter.

Anger Management Classes

the other day i read about a 16 year-old boy who was shot in an argument. he and another youth were at a subway station. the other youth left and came back with a gun. i read this and was fascinated by how easy it seems to get a guy, especially since new york city has some of the strictest gun laws in the country. i know, i know, this is the nation of 2nd amendment rights and so strictest gun laws may mean nothing, but i don't know anyone with a gun, if that counts.

anyhoo, i thought and i realised that i really cannot afford to get too angry. first of all, if i left in a huff, to go home and pick up a handy weapon to express said anger, i would be thinking, 'how angry am i really? am i prepared to stomp up the four flights to my apartment?'
even if i decided that i was that angry, by time i got up there, i probably would have huffed and puffed my anger away. i would need to sit down, take a deep breath and have a glass of water. after all that, who could still be upset?

well, say i was still angry. then i would need to hunt around for a weapon which, in my home would come down to my always-not-sharp-enough kitchen knives or my super-heavy, DIY work hammer. both large and inconvenient. i doubt i would get far too far down the street before someone tackled me to the ground.

makes more sense to smile and brush it off, huh?