Tag: interesting facts

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Where’s my flying car?

A Skybridge to Nowhere

Him: What is that?
Me: That’s a skybridge. When I was a kid, people thought that – by 2025 – we’d all have flying cars so they would build these bridges between buildings so people could get around easier if we were all flying around. There are still a few left in NYC.

The kid noticed the below skybridge one late night when we were out with the Firecracker just outside Penn Station.

Now we’re on a quest to visit some of them if we can.

From ScoutingNY

Learned how to speed read around middle school.

I’d already read pretty quickly but I read something once that said that the simplest way to speed read is to read with your finger, but for a peculiar reason.

Take the sentence:

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.

Most people don’t read it like that, they read it like this:

The quick quick brown fox fox jumped jumped over the the lazy dog dog.

They go back at least one word, sometimes two.

You probably do it too. Try it.

Just read a sentence with your finger and force your finger to constantly move forward.

At first, it’s a bit disconcerting but you get used to it after a few weeks.

That alone should increase your reading speed, significantly.

Nowadays, I probably read normally around 650 words a minute with full comprehension and as much as 750 if I really focus.

Now, I’m not telling you this to brag but to say that I was sitting bed one day watching this clip of Bill Barr commenting on meeting flat earthers.

It allowed me to finally answer the question: Where’s my flying car?

By Mr.choppers – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=152037030

See, I assumed that, by now, I’d be flying around in my car. Instead, we got this monstrosity.

What happened?

I think that humans take two steps forward and one step back.

Constantly.

Like we got rid of the measles.

Because most people have no memories of just how horrific the measles were.

Then fucking morons like RFK Jr come along and say that measles aren’t a big deal because they have no fucking clue.

Then a lotta people die.

Then we gotta figure out the measles again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The Arabs were once some of the most brilliant people on the planet, giving us algebra (al-jabr) and the House of Wisdom, among other things.

Then religious zealots took over and burned books and so much knowledge was lost.

Although, to be fair, this happened everywhere: China, England, Nazi Germany, even right here in the good ole US of A.

The US even had one just last year.

That’s why people, particularly the willfully ignorant ones, are such a disappointment to me.

There’s no end to stupid people doing stupid things and other stupid people cheering them on.

Him: Why don’t we have any flying cars, papa?
Me: Because there are so many stupid people in the world, kid. For every two steps forward, we make as a society, we take one step backward.
Him: Awww…a flying car would be cool.
Me: It really would be.

As I was writing this entry, this article just came out about almost all Tesla Cybertrucks needing to be recalled.

You cannot make this stuff up.

Location: The sunny upper west side
Mood: disappointed
Music: Boy, I don’t understand (Spotify)
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On teaching well

Must be a natural

Him: Whoa, you’re really good at that [move].
Me: It only took me 22 years. Must be a natural.

My elbow injury was the first one that I’ve had in a while.

Since I couldn’t go to the gym, I’ve been catching up on work – Scenic Fights and otherwise, as well as watching a few videos.

This fella named John Danaher – whom I used to run into alla time back in my club days – is probably the most well-respected BJJ coach on the planet.

He’s made a lotta the biggest names in the sports.

Anywho, I came across the below video of him explaining his teaching methods and it really made me think.

My very first coach would regularly completely flip out – I mean screaming in the gym like a madman, making grown men cry in front of everyone, physically assaulting his own students – when you didn’t do the move exactly as he did them or any one of a thousand little offenses to him.

Spent (well) over a decade with him with almost nothing to show for the time – a ton of other people had the same experience.

Recently, however, my skill has been expanding by leaps and bounds, precisely because I just started doing things that felt right to me.

Danaher even mentions that the goal isn’t to make robots that fight just like the coach but express themselves their own way – that’s the “art” side of “marital arts.”

That’s what my old coach never seems to have gotten.

Don’t think he realizes just how many people absolutely despise him for how much of their time he wasted.

While he certainly wasted a ton of my time, I don’t hate him.

Quite the opposite. I feel so much pity for him.

He wanted nothing more than to be a great coach but, instead, he’s just become a lightning rod of ridicule at best and full-on animosity at worst.

He’s had some stellar students, to be sure, but I gotta think that’s more a testament to their own innate skill than anything he did.

What a heartbreakingly sad thing: To be so profoundly bad at the one thing you based your entire life upon.

Location: home, with a bad back and elbow
Mood: bleary-eyed
Music: It’s not right, not okay, say the words that you say (Spotify)
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Memory Lane

Not that there’s anything wrong with that

After the Firecracker and I came back from her surprise shower, we then dashed off to our local dive bar – Malachy’s – and met up with my old roomie, Buckley.

We actually lived in the same dorm waaaaaay back in 1991 (!) and kept in touch after I left.

When he moved into the city, he and I became roomies and, after a few years, he and I bought our apartment together.

I remember that my dad had questions.

Dad: You…and Buckley…are buying an apartment? Together?
Me: Yeah, why?
Him: Well…is there anything else you wanna tell me?
Me: (puzzled) No, why? (thinking) OMG! No, we’re just friends. And poor. We’re poor friends. We can’t afford a place alone, so we need to pool our money together.
Him: Oh…
Me: (quickly) Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We’re just poor.

This is us in 1998, right before we bought the place.

I dunno what we were thinking with those sweaters or my goatee.

In any case, we met up at Malachy’s because that and Big Nick’s – which is where the main picture was taken – were the two greasy spoon dives that we always went to.

It’s weird. He looks like him just…older. And I’m the same.

We were literally kids when we met – like 17. And now his son is not that far off from the age when we first met.

Rain Noe, Logan Lo

And I’ve been chatting with Rain a lot these days.

He’s just dealing with some real estate issues and that’s kinda what I do.

That’s a pic of us back in 1998 downtown. I think at a joint called Stingy Lulu‘s (or Yaffa Cafe).

Big Nick’s is long gone – it closed back in 2013 and I wrote about it. I remember chatting with Alison about it.

Stingy Lulu’s has been gone for decades – as has Yaffa Cafe.

The thing about being 51 in 2025 is that I don’t really have any pictures or videos of some of the most seminal moments of my life.

This was a little bit after he moved out and Alison moved in.

Because, back then, cameras were crappy and usually just film or – in my case – crappy digital.

Did you know that your memories aren’t replayed, they’re reconstructed each and every time you remember them?

That means that every time you remember thing, there’s a (high) chance you’ll alter that memory a bit and those alterations keep piling up until you can’t trust your own memories anymore?

And that’s why I wish I had better pictures/videos to remember my possible pasts with.

Luckily, I have my friends to help me remember those memories.

Me: He was a quant at Long Term Capital, right?
Him: No, he was a programmer – he was on his way to being a quant when it imploded.
Me: Gotcha – I didn’t know that.

Unfortunately, I don’t have Alison here to remember the memories that mattered the very most to me.

Ah, fuck…

This is what my room looked like when it was just me and Buckley – two bachelors in the city.
A dragonfly from this entry in 2008. I have questions about that day but no one to ask.

Location: this morning, looking up therapists for various reasons
Mood: messy
Music: saw my life in a strangers face and it was mine (Spotify)
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A Revolutionary Afternoon

Rasputin was a real wizard

Because the Firecracker and I did so much traveling the past two years, we were chatting about getting into the TSA Precheck Program.

To this end, we both met up downtown at the National Museum of the American Indian, which is – oddly – where we had our interview.

The last time I’d been down there was in this entry, 13 years ago.

What a different life I led back then.

In any case, the interview itself was insanely fast; we were both done in less than three minutes.

It’s alla the paperwork that you gotta do ahead time that’s the real time killer.

Afterward, I told her that I’d buy her a drink downtown.

Me: Have you ever been to Fraunces Tavern?
Her: (thinking) That’s like a Revolutionary War place, yes? I don’t think so?
Me: Sweeeet, ok, let’s go.

It’s a place that George Washington supposedly utilized as a headquarters for war planning.

While we were there, I got a really good mead – for the first time, ever – and she just had some wine.

We chatted with the bartender for a bit before walking around downtown.

There were so many cool shops and restaurants downtown that we had difficulties figuring out where to eat.

Ultimately, she decided she wanted a lobster roll so we found a place downtown that had an excellent one.

She was very excited.

It felt luxurious to be out and about in the middle of the day.

This meant that we had time for some important and deep conversations.

Her: Have you ever considered that maybe Rasputin was a real wizard?
Me: OK, where to begin with that statement…?

Afterward, we walked around a bit more downtown…

…before we called it and went home.

Her: This is one of those things I like best about New York City.
Me: What?
Her: There’s just so much to do and see.
Me: (nodding) Yeah. I’ve been here my whole life and still think there’s so much I’ve not seen here yet.

Location: in front of six tacos, wondering if I should have a seventh
Mood: exhausted
Music: Völlig losgelöst von der Erde (Spotify)
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A new daily driver

Nuthin but steel and oil

Steel and the Surgeon, since at least the late 90s, have turned to me for advice on all things tech.

But when it comes to food, I generally speak to Steel first, then Bryson and Pac, although I mainly hit up Bryson for Japanese food tips and Pac for Korean.

Now, when Alison first got sick, one of the first things I did was to toss/donate alla our Teflon cookware and replace it was “safer” ceramic cookware.

It’s dented on one side, but no metal utensil has ever touched it so it’s remarkably slick/non-stick. I’m loathe to toss it.

The above is a “safe” ceramic pan and was the pan I pretty much used daily for just about everything since Alison got sick.

It’s slicker than a greased pig running downhill BUT I still don’t trust it completely, despite it being ceramic.

Now, the last time I was at Steel’s he showed me his daily driver – a seasoned carbon steel pan.

20 years ago, I had an old cast iron pan that I loved and lent to Rain for our Bachelor Cooking series.

That was the last time I ever saw it.

A few years later, I picked up these two enameled cast iron pans and generally use those for steaks and burgers.

They are buttery smooth to cook with – I’m exceedingly proud of the season that I’ve gotten on then.

Look at that black glossy sheen on these pans – they are incredibly non-stick.

But I was intrigued with Steel’s super lightweight carbon steel pan.

Me: How do I use it?
Him: (shrugging) Just like cast-iron. You wash it after every use with salt and hot water, apply some oil, wipe it down, and put it away.

The idea of using a pan that’s naturally non-stick, but doesn’t weigh a ton like my cast-iron, really got me.

I just cooked eggs with it so excuse the messy stove.

To this end, I picked up my own lightweight carbon steel pan and have been using that regularly.

The above is what it looked like day 1 after I cooked once with it and then gave it a quick scrub.

And below is after at least six-seasonings and daily cooking; I’m proud to say that it’s pretty much the same level of non-stick as my original daily driver, above.

Because it’s carbon steel and not cast iron, it’s far less porous than cast iron and I can’t seem to get the seasoning to look even like it does on the cast iron.

But, looks aside, it’s just as non-stick as my old regular cooking pan and I know that there’s nuthin there but steel and oil.

What I love the most about it is that it should last forever and I can give it to the kid someday.

Here’s hoping he’ll be as nerdy about these kinda things as I am.

Her: …guess his name!
Me: I don’t think…
Her: It’s the best name for a chef. Are you ready? His name was…Chef…Bacon!
Me: (amused) That is a good name. The next best name? Chef Cured Meats.
Her: Or Chef Spiral Ham?
Me: We can stop this now.
Her: (claps and rubs hands together) I’m just getting started.

OK, maybe I shouldn’t hope for that.

Location: W 72nd and Broadway, watching the kid cross the street by himself
Mood: super anxious
Music: My sugar’s the sweetest around. (Spotify)
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Another Love Cover

Japanese BBQ in the UWS

The kid had his second recital the other day and played Tom Odell’s Another Love.

This is him playing in his first, if you never saw it.

I’d never heard of the song before and there’s on expletive in the original, but he really wanted to play it and his music teacher felt it was a good choice.

So, I let him do it.

Think it turned out pretty well, actually.

Afterward, we ended up having dinner at the same joint that the Firecracker and I went to a year-and-a-half ago.

And, we ended up going with the same family we went with the last time, except that they also brought a family friend along – who just happened to be Japanese.

Me: (to my friend) You could have mentioned that she was Japanese! That’s like me bringing a Scottish person to McDonalds and calling it Scottish food.
Her: (laughing) It’s fine! Actually, this food is pretty good Japanese food.
Me: You’re being nice, but I’ll take it.

The woman actually spoke perfect English; I woulda thought she was from NYC if she didn’t say that she was originally from Tokyo and lived there still.

We got onto the topic of alla useless facts rattling around in my head.

Her: Like what?
Me: Well, I see you’re wearing a Columbia jacket. That company was founded by this German family that fled the Nazis and left behind their successful clothing company. When they got here, the found someone selling a clothing company, immediately bought it, and renamed it after the Columbia River.
Her: (laughing) How do you know all that?
Me: I have no idea.

This is true.

The vast majority of facts I know are (a) useless and (b) of completely unknown origins.

Somehow, these interesting stories stick around in my brain.

And now, maybe it’ll stick in yours?

Location: Early morning, upstairs, trying to replace a shower door
Mood: groggy
Music: Words, they always win, but I know I’ll lose (Spotify)
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Not everybody

Two good samaratins pulling a guy off the tracks at Times Square the other day.

Joan Murray survived a 14,500 Foot Fall

Last year, I saw a guy fall into the tracks at Times Square.

Two fellas immediately hopped into the tracks to save him, which I thought was pretty admirable.

But whenever I see something like that, I think of an old joke that goes something like this:

A songbird was flying one winter day when it got so cold that he dropped right outta the clear blue sky onto a farm.

The bird lay there helpless and injured until a horse walked by and, not noticing the small bird, dropped a huge steaming pile of hot poop on him.

The poop, however, was warm and made the bird feel much better – so much better, in fact, that he started to sing. But then a cat heard him sing, found him, and dug him out.

The bird was happy to be outta the poop, but the cat didn’t give him a chance to thank him because the cat gobbled him up and went on with his day.

There are three (shitty) morals to his story:

    1. Not everybody who shits on you is your enemy.
    2. Not everybody who digs you outta shit is your friend.
    3. When you’re in deep shit, shut up.
This is a picture of when a bird pooped on the Firecracker – which happens with alarming regularity.

Now, there’s actually a real life version of this joke about a woman named Joan Murray who survived a 14,500 foot fall, which is almost three miles of free fall straight down.

See, she was sky diving and BOTH her parachutes failed.

Normally, this would be just a death sentence, but she ended up crashing into a huge ant hill – but not just any ant hill, a fire ant anthill.

If you don’t know what a fire ant is, it’s a venomous ant that can these intensely painful stings.

Normally, if you fell onto a fire ant hill, that would be at the very least, an incredibly painful experience – most likely you’d end up in the hospital.

In Joan’s case, however, the softness of the mound coupled with the intense pain of the venom kept her alive with the former softening her impact and the latter keeping her heart beating.

She ended up in a coma with shattered bones on the right side of her body and a few lost teeth, which required 20 reconstructive surgeries, 17 blood transfusions, a metal rod into her right leg, and 5-inch spikes grafted onto into her pelvis.

But she survived.

And she survived precisely because these fire ants were trying to kill her.

Joan actually died in 2022, 23 years after her accident, of cancer (unfortunately – fucking cancer…) with nary a parachute nor fire ant in sight.

(c) Unilad

I’m telling you this story because I see how the kid sees the world: In simple terms of black and white.

Children and the stupid see things so simply binary.

It’s difficult for me to figure out how to explain these subtle nuances in the world, especially in light of world events, to him and, well, generally stupid people, who are uncomfortable with grey.

Soupy grey is never appealing, but it’s still more realistic than stark black-and-white.

Him: If Donald Trump lies all the time, how did he become president?
Me: (whistling) Hoo-boy. That’s gonna take a little while to explain. Not now though.

Location: downright balmy 40+ degree NYC
Mood: not completely frozen
Music: it’s your heart, it’s alive, it’s pumping blood (Spotify)
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Sticking, for some reason

The algorithm I came up with

Did you know that Mark Twain was instrumental in the creation of the bra?

Or that Charles Darwin invented the office chair?

Or that Brian May, the guitarist and co-founder of Queen, is also a celebrated astrophysics that helped NASA land a rocket on an asteroid?

People that reach high levels of achievement in disparate fields have always fascinated me, with my personal hero being Hedy Lamarr.

The question is whether this kinda thing can be taught. Like, can a parent teach someone to be successful in many areas?

Long before the kid came into existence, I was trying to figure this out for whatever kid I might eventually have.

The algorithm that I came up with:

Lifetime curiosity + the ability to properly research + discipline = success in various fields

Because, at least for me, I try to keep my childhood curiosity alive.

With the internet and all the tools out there for research, it’s a lot easier than it used to be to find out information – although separating the wheat from the chaff is more difficult than ever what with the sheer amount of information out there.

Have no idea if this is correct, or if it’ll work with everyone, but I believe hope it will.

Suppose only time will tell.

Me: Try it. Nothing beats beets.
Him: I don’t like beets.
Me: Well, if you like candy and cake, you should like beets.
Him: What? Why?
Me: Well, most American sugar comes from beets.
Her: Is that true? How do you know all this stuff?
Me: (shrugging) I always wonder things. So, then I look it up and a shocking amount of it sticks in my head for some reason.

Location: home, trying to make sense of things
Mood: annoyed
Music: suddenly I see why the hell it means so much to me (Spotify)
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Fire and Ice

Bone-chilling

Her: Have you seen my cow slippers? It’s freezing.
Me: Since meeting you, I’ve heard sentences I’ve never heard ever in my life. Which is saying a lot, because I’m over half-a-century old.
Her: You told me I bring joy and light to your life.
Me: I say a lotta things.
Her: (glares)

It’s been bone-chillingly cold out here lately – and not just between the Firecracker and me.

Like, seriously bone-chilling:

But that also meant some snow and sledding out around here, which is a welcome thing for the kids.

Both kids were excited to get their snow on, so we were up insanely early to let them do it.

There was hardly anyone there when we first arrived.

But that was relatively short-lived.

Which is fine because the Firecracker and I were both freezing.

Her: I’m glad we’re leaving. I can’t feel my toes. (starts laughing).
Me: I can’t either. What are you laughing at?
Her: (pointing) That. Every time I come here, I see the remains of sleds that gave up the ghost.

My brother hates the snow and winter, which is why he lives in Pasadena.

But he and Paul have been dealing with the opposite problem of ice and snow, and that’s fire and ash.

Which sounds a lot like what we had to deal with here two years ago.

This is a pic of his backyard…

…usually, those pools are pristine.

Smoke and ash notwithstanding, he knows that he’s among the lucky ones, at least so far.

Paul and one of the Scenic Fights producers had to evacuate and one of them is just a few blocks from my brother’s pad.

Me: Can I post these pics?
Him: Sure, though what’s there is of course trivial compared to the sorts of calamities that befell houses up the way in Altadena. Those pics were from the morning of Tuesday the 8th, I think. The night before there were winds like I’ve only seen/heard maybe once before here in LA, it was nuts.
Me: Man…
Him: You know, I’m not sure I’ve used the word “befell” in a sentence befall.
Me: Are you proud of yourself here?
Him: It’s like Albert Shakespeare said, “Pride is a many-sided mirror.”
Me: (sighing)

Location: my living room, after the kid accidentally dropped his entire spaghetti dinner on the white rug
Mood: blargh
Music: You pulled the rug right out from under my life (Spotify)
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The choices we make

A matter of inches

Me: (seeing a pic of the Firecracker) You were so young back then!
Her: Yup – now look at me. I’m with a very old Chinese man.
Me: Well, I wouldn’t say very old.
Her: Right. Because you’re not doing back exercises eight times a day and buying orthopedic butt supports?
Me: …
Her: Yeah…

The Firecracker was kind enough to surprise me with a back brace the other day for my crap back.

Gone from rolling around and fighting 20-somethings to sitting in cushioned chairs wherever I go and wearing a back brace.

On that note, I’ve also started seeing a chiropractor to add to my stable of doctors, physical therapists, and general clinicians.

Oddly, the first thing I thought of when I got the brace was the presidency and both Trump and JFK.

The assassin that missed Trump missed ending his life by perhaps an inch in several directions.

Between when the gunman pulled the trigger and when the bullet hit, enough time had passed that Trump shifted his head just enough to be merely grazed.

Contrast that with JFK, who was killed on the killer’s second bullet.

This is meaningful because the first bullet shoulda caused JFK to fall forward, as it did his companion John Connally, but it didn’t.

Because JFK was wearing a back brace due to his own major back issues.

A back brace changed the world.

Always find it so interesting that so much of life for the world writ large hinges on these rando choices we all make.

Then again, I should probably think longer about some of the choices I make.

Her: (cleaning and dancing about when I enter the room) How are you feeling?
Me: Eh, ok, I guess. (pausing) What are you doing?
Her: My sexy cleaning dance.
Me: Oh, when’s it gonna start?
Her: God, you’re so rude!

I should probably think longer about some of the choices I make.

Location: home at a hot pot get-together
Mood: ache-y still
Music: Woo hoo just a little bit of c’mon bring that back (Spotify)
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