Busy Sunday

1. Sunday service at Shiloh Baptist Church on 131st St in Harlem. We heard a rousing sermon about o-ppor-tu-ni-tay, heard the good young people's choir and enjoyed the leisurely pace of the proceedings and the enthusiastic raptures of some of the congregants. Then...
2. Fried Chicken at Charles' Southern Kitchen. Amen.
Then...
3. Caught the second half of the European Cup final between Germany and Spain. Tried to get into La Nacional on 14th St but it was worse than a steam bath in there. So we watched the game in air conditioned luxury at the Irish bar down the block. Everybody was rooting for Spain.
As I said yesterday, the good thing about the Germans is that no one likes them. Spain won, playing spiritedly and youthfully, 1-0. An amazing goal by Torres, who runs like he's the Energizer Bunny, like he's on crack. The Spanish team members seem on average 10 years younger than their European counterparts and they play accordingly. They are tireless and they have a great goalie, Casillas.
Good for them. Although I must say this soccer fever is a bit too much. It's only a game, señores.
3. Gay Pride Parade happening as soccer game was happening as Florent's last day celebration was happening. In NYC there is room for that and more, which is why I love this town to bits.
We didn't go to Florent because after Gospel, Chicken and Soccer, we were engentadas; that is, overtaxed with humanity.
Took a nap and then watched Pascale Ferran's lovely version of D.H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterley, all spring meadows and earthy sex.
Saw the fireworks for Gay Pride reflected on the windows of the building in front of us.
Who knew Sundays could be so eventful?

The Eliasson cascades in NYC

Photo by the New York Times.

They look very beautiful at night.

Film withdrawal symptoms

I think I'm cranky because I haven't been to the movies in almost three weeks.

$600 Bush dollars

I just got my "economic stimulus" little check from the federal government. Until yesterday's horrendous slide of the stock market, I was thinking of donating them in full to Obama's campaign.
I was thinking of donating this evil money to whatever would hurt Bush and the Republicans the most.
You are welcome to contribute ideas.
Until yesterday's beginning of a love fest between Hil and Barack, I was thinking of giving the money to him, so he can be our President. I just don't want him to use the money to pay back her debt. What is that about? How dare they talk about unity NOW? Why didn't they think about freaking unity when they were tearing each other to shreds (or rather one of them was trying to tear the other one to shreds). How soon they forget! Assholes.
Now I'm wondering if I should not hold on to it for when the shit really hits the fan, which promises to be rather soon.
Perhaps the Republicans knew they were destroying the economy all along and they knew that the best way for us not to use that money against them is to just crush the economy of this country, so we hold on to the $600 to buy groceries. As if this is going to help us out of the shithole they've sunk us in. Motherfuckers.
As you can see, I'm upset.

Let the love fest begin

How long did we think it would take until the two Democratic Presidential candidates would start air kissing each other? I'm surprised it took this long. It's named politics, and it reeks.
Why does anybody who is not Hillary Clinton have to pay Hillary Clinton's campaign debt?
Why does Barack Obama feel the need to donate funds to pay for her mismanaged campaign?
You want to bet who is going to be his VP?
Guácala, as we say in Spanish.

Robert Mugabe is a criminal

And he should be judged for crimes against humanity in an international court.
Or someone should put him out of the misery he has unleashed in his country. Problem is, if that happens, his army of thugs will continue terrorizing the population.
I was looking for the photo that appeared on the cover of the NYT in which a baby's legs had been broken by Mugabe loyalists who were looking for his father, a supporter of the other side.
A baby's legs.
What can be done?

Look out for the hail of bullets...

...coming your way, courtesy of the SCOTUS. We won't have to wait long to hear about children murdered accidentally while playing at home and all other sorts of scary mayhem.
Owning guns is not a freedom nor a right. Law abiding citizens don't need guns. The police and the army need guns to fight crime. But arms makers are going to make a killing, and stupid Americans will keep the gun somewhere where it could hurt someone. Chances are it's not going to be a criminal.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Adios, George Carlin

He was funny.

The Leopard Ladies

Being a neophyte at this Cannes thing, of course my attention was directed at the mother-daughter tandem team of whores who prowled the Gutter Bar and the festival at all hours of the day and night, wearing an ensemble of leopard print lingerie which they did not change out of for 10 days in a row.
So many questions to ask about these two dames:
1. Did they have several similar outfits or did they indeed use the same sweaty clothes for the duration?
2. What exactly is the role of the mother? For those of you who have never seen these two, they are aesthetically challenged, to say the least. The daughter must be in her late forties and as whores go, I assume she could potentially pass muster if you are either very drunk or very desperate or both. Yet the mother looks like a hardened munchkin and there is just no way to imagine any kind of menage of any sort with her in the picture. Unless, of course, you are the king of kink and you get off by just thinking of the possibility of a mother watching her own daughter prostitute herself for your pleasure. This is France, the place that gave the world, among other things, the Marquis de Sade, so it is not farfetched.
Some Venezuelan guys we met were so flummoxed by the pair that they thought the city of Cannes paid them to stroll around in their ratty garments. But why would the city of Cannes, a retirement community of wealthy people where a beer costs 17 bucks, want to promote sideshow freak whores for the benefit of tourism is beyond me.
There were many other working ladies parked in cars or at the Gutter Bar, who looked of a slightly different caliber, but the Leopard ladies rule. The night of the award ceremony the daughter was taking video of everybody coming down the red carpet. Then they hoofed their way towards the Martinez with the rest of us, the mother slapping her cheap platform slippers on the sidewalk with considerable effort.
Our friend Bob told us he had heard that the third generation is making her debut soon.
Can't wait.

2 Grand Prix for the price of one

It's a tie. Two pieces that could not be more different from each other.
My favorite, the Gorilla spot for Milka from Juan Cabral, is a beautiful piece of advertising. I don't even know why I like it so much. The first time I saw it, I was exhilarated by the surprise of it, the weirdness of it, the rightness of it. At following viewings it grows more endearing, because you wait for his moment with the drumming gorilla. It is just delightful. As it promises, it is sheer joy, but it an unexpected, fresh way. It works in many levels because the song is cheesy (the kind of cheesy we might once have liked, though we wouldn't admit it in public), because what is a gorilla doing with a drum set, because it is iconic and ineffable and cool as hell. I love it.
The Halo campaign seems to me to appeal only to male geeks, which are legion. It is undoubtedly a beautiful commercial, with a wondrous use of music, but it's for a video game, for crying out loud.
There is something that deeply bothers me about the fact that the advertising cloaks the product in a mantle of righteousness that I find appalling. IT'S A VIOLENT VIDEO GAME. I think jurors were swayed by the wow factor, by the intricacy of the production. I don't hate the commercial, but I hate that it won.
If I had my druthers, I would have strongly considered the HBO campaign (TV only), instead. It is a brilliant idea, magnificently executed. It is the living, breathing embodiment of the brand. Seen on the big screen at the awards ceremony, it gave me goosebumps.