Culture

Interior. The Wooden Spoon restaurant. The décor unsurprisingly features wooden spoons of various sizes affixed to the papered walls. A man sits at a table adorned with small ceramic containers of sweeteners and jellies, a plastic squeeze bottle of maple syrup, and crowded with plates of food; omelets, home fries, and plates stacked with toast. Another man approaches…

As I sat down opposite Steve, I asked, "So, has Glenn gone to walk the earth like Caine?"

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen Lord Nelson from the window of a cab, but as the taxi wheeled through Trafalgar Square Tuesday morning I looked again. More light, boy. More light… Insurance is a tough gig, but I don’t think I’ll wind up having to learn how to sign my name left-handed because of it.

Interior. Young’s Restaurant. The recently redecorated décor is debatably Bauhaus. Two friends sit at a booth that features a metal napkin dispenser, a miniature metal ewer of cream and a miniature metal basket of white, pink and blue packaged sweeteners. The table is covered with large plates covered to the edges with omelets and small plates of sausage links and home fries. The waitress refills their coffee cups and leaves as a third friend approaches their booth…
As I slid into the bench next to Glenn, Steve said, "Where have you been?"

Interior. The Friendly Toast café. The décor is mismatched 50s and 60s kitsch. Blue Oyster Cult’s "Burning for You" is barely audible over the ambient noise of the kitchen, customers and staff. Two friends sit at a booth that features a lamp with a shade that spins around making a waterfall appear as it turns. There are penguin salt and pepper shakers and a ceramic cow holding creamers in its hollow back surrounding a metal napkin dispenser.

Interior. Young’s Restaurant. The décor is 80s Industrial. Two friends sit at a booth that features a metal napkin dispenser, a ceramic bowl of creamers and a matching bowl with white, pink and blue packaged sweeteners. The table is covered with large plates covered to the edges with omelets and small plates of sausage links and home fries. The waitress refills their coffee cups and leaves…"I’m depressed," I said.

"We noticed," Glenn said.

"We did?" Steve asked.

"I was trying to be supportive," Glenn said.

Interior. Young’s Restaurant. The décor is 80s Industrial. Two friends sit at a booth that features a metal napkin dispenser, a ceramic bowl of creamers and a matching bowl with white, pink and blue packaged sweeteners. The table is covered with large plates covered to the edges with omelets and small plates of sausage links and home fries. The waitress refills their coffee cups and leaves…"Where’s Mike been?" Glenn asked.

"Dancin’ for the man," Steve answered.

"Too bad," Glenn said.

Interior. The Friendly Toast café. The décor is mismatched 50s and 60s kitsch. The apocalyptic base line of Soul Coughing’s "Super Bon Bon" is barely audible over the ambient noise of the kitchen, customers and staff. Three friends sit at a booth that features a lamp with a shade that spins around making a waterfall appear as it turns. There are penguin salt and pepper shakers and a ceramic cow holding creamers in its hollow back standing near a metal napkin dispenser.

Would you be worried about the price of creamy, sweet crude oil if you knew the world was going to end December 21, 2012? Would you care if Barry Bonds took steroids?

Interior. The Friendly Toast café. The décor is mismatched 50s and 60s kitsch. Three friends sit at a booth that features a lamp with a shade that spins around making a waterfall appear as it turns. There are penguin salt and pepper shakers and a ceramic cow holding creamers in its hollow back surrounding a metal napkin dispenser. The table is covered with plates of eggs and pancakes and French toast and bacon and home fries.

We like to pat ourselves on the back because we don’t actually burn the TV station down when our religious fundamentalists protest images they find offensive, like NBC’s "The Book of Daniel," a short-lived series in which a troubled minister actually consulted with Jesus in hopes of finding answers to life’s many questions. Those on the religious right found the show to be blasphemous and threatened to boycott companies that sponsored the show, as well as NBC’s other fine programs.

On his syndicated radio program, former Secretary of Education, "Drug Czar," celebrity poker fan and best-selling author of "The Book of Virtues" William Bennett noted that "if you wanted to reduce crime, you could—if that were your sole purpose—you could abort every black baby in this country and your crime rate would go down." Despite Bennett’s surprising pro-abortion stand, Democrats have been quick to criticize the Fox News contributor, describing his comments as "alarming," "insensitive, hurtful and ignorant," and "insane." Bennett says he stands by his comments, refusing to offer even

War, pestilence, death. The 21st Century has it all. Apocalypse, Now! (Okay, the 20th Century is suing for copyright infringement, but our lawyers maintain we can use "Apocalypse, Now" until we receive the injunction.) That’s the way we roll. Aiight?You say there have been hurricanes before? Sure. Not to mention floods, volcanoes and earthquakes. War? Check. In fact, we’ve had conflicts global and continental too numerous to list here. Pestilence? You bet. Everything from medieval plagues to pandemic influenza to AIDS. So, why Apocalypse, Now, you ask?

I admit it. I wasn’t really paying attention. Well, not close attention. It was kind of hard to miss, with the 24x7 coverage on the cable nets. But now that the verdict is in, I guess I’m surprised evangelical neocons in the red states—formerly known as the good people of the heartland—aren’t turning over their combines and setting them on fire to demonstrate their moral outrage. What’s with white people, anyway? We just don’t know how to react to injustice, do we?

Remember when your parents were telling you that if you didn’t stop spending so much time in the bathroom with that SI swimsuit issue you’d go blind? For sensitive young lads like myself with thick, black-framed Buddy Holly glasses, this was hardly good news. We faced enough ridicule for our cartoonishly large eyewear as it was without having them linked to chronic, um, virginity. Of course, we eventually found out the whole you’ll go blind thing was yet another case of parental propaganda no more true than their claim that smoking cigarettes would not make you look cool.

By now, the latest chapter in the Star Wars heptology, "Episode III: Revenge of the Sith," has set every midnight/one day/opening weekend box office record known to Hollywood bean counters. This is hardly a shock given the vast numbers of nerds who for weeks had slept on concrete for one more shared fantasy in the dark with Princess Amidala. Nor were there many surprises in the generally positive reviews that acknowledged the transcendent visuals while grumping over the thin plotline and even thinner characterizations.