Airport, Subway Gripes

(a)  NYC’s transportation system is an absolute mess — bottom of the barrel, laughing stock of the world.  The worst, the slowest, most worn down, the smelliest. Everyone on the Manhattan-bound A train just got kicked off at Rockaway Blvd. Thanks!  The follow-up train is a.c.-ed but — what else? — packed to the gills.  Standing room only.  Loathing, contempt.

(b I love women who buy big fat suitcases & load up with 150 or 200 lbs. of stuff, but can’t lift the bag off the carousel. Alpha males to the rescue! Don’t own a big fat suitcase if you can’t handle the weight, Peggy Sue.

(c)   Most people shuffle through airports at the pace of a typical 86 year-old in a madras robe & slippers on his/her way to the fridge.  What is life without purposeful strides?  Not much.  I stride and don’t shuffle,  and therefore I am.

(d)  I hate older alpha male types who hold out their hand and gently urge fellow elevator passengers to exit first. Who are you, my daddy? I’m on to your bullshit, gramps.  In fact, just for spite, YOU go first. I’m the daddy of this elevator. Me, not you.

Don’t Bitchslap Mummy Unless You Really Mean It

Now that The Mummy has played in U.S. theatres for three nights, it’s time for the HE community to either (a) admit that the majority of critics were correct in calling this Kurtzman-Cruise flick a piece of shit or (b) stand up to those snooty know-it-alls and say “no, not fair, you were too cruel and crabby,” etc.