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Posts Tagged ‘BLVD’

If you are like me and still have a latent attachment to Yahoo! Mail for Facebook notifications or the occasional email from your mother, you may come across the prominently featured dating advice articles that inhabit the front page. In Yahoo’s lifestyle section one finds articles extolling the virtues of letting your partner flirt with other men and women, advice on how to make long distance relationships work, and never ending updates on how members of the opposite sex (sorry LBGTQ folk!) can communicate with and understand each other. Today’s Yahoo! feature focuses on the “11 Things Women Don’t Know About Men.” Written by Evan Marc Katz, the article embarks on a thorough and deep analysis of the fragile male psyche that has yet to be apprehended by women everywhere. Since Evan realizes the truth is likely to be either too enraging or complicated for women to handle, he thankfully includes this headshot of himself at the beginning of his piece to engender empathy among his readers.

Typically it is acceptable to judge a book by it’s cover, but we should be charitable with Evan’s plunging neckline as it indicates his willingness to get to the heart of the very matters that have divided men from women for so long. Here are a few excerpts from his 1.5 page manifesto:

1. Getting angry at us for not reading your mind is like getting angry at yourself for not being able to fly. It’s not just futile, it’s physically impossible.

Mel Gibson aside, I think Evan is spot on here. Women are entirely too upset about their inability to fly commercial aircraft. At least be content that you have a disproportionate amount of flight attendant jobs.

8. There should a statute of limitations on stupid things that we said that can come back to haunt us. I propose 24 hours.

Although one might think this is a pathetic cry for a woman’s charity, the Bible advises that adopting Evan’s proposal is an endeavor in self preservation:

“Mat 6:14-15 (NIV) “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But, if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.”*

12. Your nice guy friends are the most reliable source for telling you if your new boyfriend’s a jerk. And he probably is. (By the way, you might want to consider marrying that nice guy who’s giving you advice about the jerk.)

I thought there were only 11 of these, but this one is arguably the most insightful. As 90% of sexual assault is perpetrated by persons known to the victim, it is more than likely that a woman’s “nice guy friends” will know how to identify their partners in crime…

*Note that the gendered language of this passage does not require reciprocity. Tough luck, broads.

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I have already expressed my ceaseless, violent anger at the terms “Daddy Party” and “Mommy Party,” but now political gendering has gone a step further. Salon.com posted an article last week called “Hillary is from Mars, Obama is from Venus,” which basically argued that Obama is a bigger girl than Hillary Clinton, despite the fact that she has ovaries. Admittedly, Brooklyn Skeptic is guilty of regularly reinforcing gender stereotypes, but we’re just trying to be cute. The rest of the world is not cute.

Michael Scherer writes for Salon.com,

Throughout history, American presidents have been men’s men who puff their out chests against evil. Think Teddy Roosevelt on safari, Jack Kennedy in PT-109, Ronald Reagan on his horse, or George W. Bush with a chain saw clearing brush. If leaders show any slackening of testosterone, especially in wartime, they are quickly derided as wimps (George H.W. Bush), a Frenchman (John Kerry) or weaklings (Jimmy Carter). But on the Democratic campaign trail these days, where the first woman in U.S. history is making a serious run at the White House, gender roles are being swapped.

He cites Clinton’s tough-as-nails demeanor and Obama’s exultation to dream together as evidence of their misplaced genders.

I think we’re all just missing the boat here and being lazy with our lexicon. A person who believes he or she should rightfully be the president of the United States is going to have a particular set of personality traits that are not necessarily common in all people. These traits, I suppose, would be a dominant personality, with some delusions of grandeur, egoism, ambition and obstinance. One could also rightly suspect that the candidate would be uncommonly intelligent, personable, charismatic, and good looking. However, these second-ranked traits are not required to be president, and are easier to fake with the right staff.

As our political arena becomes ever-so-slightly more accessible to non-white-and-male Americans each year, we are beginning to see that these traits are exclusive neither to one gender nor to one racial background. Politicians, like members of every other profession that I can think of, can be basically anyone, assuming they have the above mentioned personality traits. So when Scherer talks about the flipped gender roles of the leading democratic candidates, Obama and Clinton, he, too, is being lazy. Scherer quotes Clinton saying that she is “not running because [she is] a woman. [She is] running because [she thinks she is] the best qualified and experienced person to hit the ground running in January 2009.” While Scherer interprets this as another masculine move, downplaying her femininity and underscoring her ambition (so unladylike), I see this as just another example of the presidential power trait (patent pending, jerk). Clinton believes she knows a better way and she thinks she should lead the county there.

Scherer shows Obama

[Singing] an empowerment ballad on the stump that would make most lady folk singers proud. “The decision to go to war is not a sport,” he tells crowds, rejecting the male metaphor. “We can discover the better part of ourselves as a nation,” he says. “We can dream big dreams.”

Sadly, under all of this inflammatory gender comparison (singing vs. sports), what is ignored is the actual power behind his words. While he isn’t clearing brush or womanizing, he’s calling for revolution of our political system. I don’t know if that’s “feminine,” but it certainly betrays his presidential power trait. He also knows a better way. He thinks he should be the one to lead the U.S. out of this shitshow we’re in. There’s no way that any of this is masculine or feminine. This is nothing but total politician. We need a third gender when we’re talking about politicians. Maybe it’s the presence of two assholes instead of typical male or female genitals.

So what? So maybe we should start listening to the actual ideas and strategies and stop trying to put every fucking thing into these circumscribed categories of acceptable gender behavior. No Mommy Party and Daddy Party. No bitch. No man’s man. No brush clearing. No Indigo Girls.

**Update: Scherer responds to readers tearing him a new one…

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I think we can agree that a man hitting on a female bartender is basically going to be a fruitless pursuit. Yes, we’ve all heard the urban legends of incredibly dashing gentlemen who somehow cracked the chastity armor of an adorable bartendress. But the fact of the matter is that lady bartenders are the target of far too much drunken flirting/sexual harassment. They’re going to be nice to everyone, but you have to remember that it’s their job.

As an example of an experience that would make such a phenomenon exist: On Sunday, several Skeptics went to P.J. Hanley’s on Court Street for some al fresco drinking. This is generally a super-douchey bar, but one we often patronize because of its enormous outdoor seating area. But anyway, at another table were two drunk douchebags who were falling over a lot and breaking a seemingly endless number of glasses. At one point, one of the douches gets up to leave and walks to his motorcycle to drive away. The bartendress, a lovely young lady, follows him down the street to suggest he not drive while so fucking inebriated and to ask him if he’d like her to call a cab for him. She even offered to hold the motorcycle inside the bar overnight. His response was something along the lines of “unless you’re coming home with me, get the fuck away from me.” Superlative gentleman. Really.

But of course there are a thousand other reasons why it’s just a bad idea for men to hit on women ‘tenders. This brings me to my real question: What do we think about women hitting on male bartenders, and more specifically, women giving male bartenders their numbers?

One of the lady Skeptics may or may not have left her number for a bartender last night, scrawled in hastened script on a beer coaster. It may or may not have been done with all the care of ripping a band-aid off. It may or may not have been incredibly scary and possibly inappropriate.

So I open this debate to the Brooklyn Skeptic panel of experts – ladies gettin’ all up on the jock of a local bartender: yay or nay?

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This is part 2 in the Mets Update for Girls series. You can relive the magic of part 1 here.

Note: Regarding the title of this invaluable series, BrooklynSkeptic is not wedded (ha ha) to traditional gender roles. But there they are, nonetheless.

I love inspirational sports movies. LOVE them. It is my favorite genre after epic fantasyRudy, The Karate KidVarsity Blues, Bad News Bears, Cool Runnings, Hoosiers, Remember the Titans, Miracle, Mighty Ducks, D2, D3, et cetera. Please feel free to add your own fave inspirational sports movie.

Anyway, what makes watching Dawson Leary sweat and yell and scream his team into victory so much more exciting than Michael Turner tossing around the ole pigskin?

The answer is…..

Backstory! In a movie, you get to see their trials and tribulations as the new kid in school who just can’t fit in, or the hard luck coach who just can’t get it together, or the Jamaican bobsled team who’s never seen snow before!

At this point you may be saying to yourself yes yes I’m totally with you, but what does this have to do with the Mets?

The answer is that the Mets are the only pro sports team that I would want to see in a feature-length movie. And guess what? They wouldn’t even need to cast FPJ as the All-American wonder boy or SLJ as the wisened coach. The Mets has those positions, and more, already filled by the most charming and lovable and photogenic men around!

Adorable 2006 Mets

Look at those precious poonums!

It’s not only me that thinks so. The Metropolitan Men have been getting a lot of press lately, filled with references to how much more charming and lovable they are than the Yankees.

See first the Village Voice article on Jose Reyes, “the most exciting and most handsome player in baseball”! (note: items in italics added by editor)

He is kind and adorable and loves reggaeton. Also, when you go to the games at Shea right around the 3rd Inning if you direct your attention to the jumbo-tron you will get the best Spanish lesson of your life from Profesor Reyes. Learn to say dedos or la puerta and he will melt your corazon.

 See second the NY Mag article on David Wright, who is young and handsome and corn-fed. The article explores whether David Wright is possibly too perfect. The answer? No, not really.

Here they are together:

reyeswright.jpg

There are many other talented and charming players on the team, and I encourage them to keep your eyes out for them, as I will.

So, in conclusion, when you think of the Mets in terms of inspirational sports movies it opens up a world of possibilities! When is the scene where Emilio Estevez drives out on the ice? How will we know when Rudy has finally gotten into Notre Dame? What about when, um, Kurt Russell, um, uh, uses his hatred of communism to win a hockey match? Yeah, what about that?!?

The answer is, of course, that you should to watch the Amazin’s and find out for yourself! And once you find that sweet spot, when Reyes’ every steal of a base steals your heart right along with it, then you’ve arrived and like Miss Joey Potter, you may be ready to move past that boy from the creek.

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Hi Everyone. Would you like to hear my detailed account of last Friday’s Brooklyn Beer tasting? Yeah? Good.

I’m not sure what you could gather from the “Cold Beer, Heated Discussion” entry, but if you’re at all literate, I’m sure you picked up on the fact that I, Johnbaptisedme, was not in top form the evening of the Brooklyn Beer tasting. I blame it on the two shots of Svedka (vodka) I took right before attending the drinking social. The two shots of Svedka I took by myself. In my apartment. About 3 minutes after waking up from a nap. It’s fine, I mean, “liquor before beer, you’re in the clear,” right? Right. No wait, wrong. So very wrong. I don’t know if you knew this already, but naps are incredibly dangerous. They can really impair a person’s judgment, causing he or she to do crazy things, crazy things like drink hard liquor by themselves and watch 1.2 episodes of “Everybody Loves Raymond” before realizing “Everybody Loves Raymond” is their most hated tv show. In any case, shortly after the party shots that I took with no one else, I strolled on over to Recklesley’s apartment. By the time I got there, R’ley was putting together some vegetarian oinkers in a quilt (that’s a silly way of saying pigs in a blanket–get it?), and we talked a short while about how she made them: cut hot dogs into 1/3’s and wrap each portion with a Pillsbury crescent roll. It’s pretty easy, especially if you’ve ever lived on earth. But I must say, unless you’re actually vegetarian, I suggest using actual meat when making p.i.a.b. Or not. Do whatever you want. I couldn’t care less.

Moving forward, while the tofu pups were baking we decided to watch a movie. A little movie called, “Mulan.” Great, great movie. Then we took some lovely pictures. It was fun.

Shortly after our “Mulan” screening, the Brooklyn Beer tasting began. Here are my actual thoughts on the biers:

Brooklyn Lager– I very much enjoy B. Lager. It’s bitter, yes. But so am I. So, we’re a very good match.

East India Pale Ale– “Tastes like Colonialism.” This was a statement made by a fellow taster that evening. I agree with whoever he or she was. I remember this beer being “perfumey and divine,” with just a hint of Judy Davis (“Passage to India” reference– it’s an obscure one, yes. But if you got it, we should be best friends).

Pennant Ale– This is good. Drink lots of it.

Pilsner– I believe this was the beer that turned me off (both physically and mentally) for the rest of the evening. “Not a fan,” is all I wrote for my notes. And you know what? I’m not a fan. Even through my vodka-beer goggles I was able to recognize this beer for what it really is. A not great beer.

Brown Ale– Yum. This is the good stuff. I don’t remember how I felt about it the evening of the BB tasting, but I’ve had it before. It’s brown, and ale-y. Drink it.

Black Chocolate Stout– Again, I don’t remember much about this beer, just that at this point in the evening, I could only handle a shot’s worth of it. I had to reduce my beer intake (from a small glass to a shot glass) shortly after the tasting began. I am very hardcore. Beer shots. But anyway, with something like 10.whatever% of alc, this is the drink of choice for anyone who wants to get “wasted” and likes chocolate. And, I think that might be most people.

Monster Ale– This tasting is long-lost somewhere in my memory. I, at this point, was probably trying to analyze the gender politics represented in “Mulan,” and sitting by myself in a corner. But I trust it’s good.

So, there you have it. My Brooklyn Beer opinions. Do what you will with it.

Bye.

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nyccondom1.jpgAlarmed that some people didn’t know about this, I decided it is essential I throw down a little FYI for the good people of New York City.

NYC is distributing a projected 18 million free, NYC-branded condoms, available all over the place. Right now, the locations look a little Manhattan-heavy, but the other boroughs are well represented. I found some at Welcome to the Johnsons. My roommate found some at those crazy Manhattan clubs.

So, as the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene says, “Get Some.” You know you want New York City all up on your gear.

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Why do people go to Manhattan clubs? They’re crowded, expensive, and the polar opposite of fun. Not fun. They’re pretty much all awful. Each and every one. But I think the worst might be BLVD. Pronounced “boulevard.” It’s tricky, I know. BLVD is located on Bowery between Spring St. and Hell. But it’s closer to Hell. You’ll see it. It has its minions standing guard outside. They’re not too noticeable at first, looking like typical Manhattan bouncers, however once they speak to you it’s impossible to ignore their satan inspired attitude, and asshole-like faces. Also, try not to look them straight in the eye. You might turn into stone. Or vomit. So best to try to avoid that.

Another reason to hate BLVD is for its dresscode; men are required to wear button up shirts and loafers of some kind. No sneakers. However, the bouncers/doormen are allowed to look as though they spent the early afternoon hours punching their faces in with their own fists, and wear clothes that resemble outfits that could be found at a Mordor tag sale. Justice, where is the justice? And most annoying, BLVD enforces a “no cutting” policy, even if, let’s say, a certain someone (me, perhaps?) was in line with friends but then left to (very quickly) use the bathroom at the Chinese restaurant next door.  Once returning to her original spot, this certain someone would be forced to move to the back of the line.  (That was a true story.) Total bullshit. It’s fine though, Medusa (bouncer’s nickname, by me) received a nice long reprimand afterwards. It went really well. He seemed to really care. Moving along, once inside BLVD’s sneaker-free club, one can enjoy the extremely reasonably priced $8 coat check, $15 drinks, $50 minimum credit card tab, and $25 cover. It’s like heaven on earth.

So, if you’re looking to get into an argument with a bouncer and spend a chunk of your weekly earnings on watered down drinks, well then BLVD is the place to go. And if what you’re searching for is the opposite of that? Well, I say spend your weekends in Brooklyn. Sweet, sweet Brooklyn.

*Note: Author left the BLVD scene shortly after battling it out with Medusa. However, all prices have been confirmed by some friends who decided to stay.

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