Hi everyone. This is just a quick little note to tell you that we have in fact been posting lately, just not on this site. Do yourselves a favor and click on The Dapper Lad over at the top of the list on the right hand side. And prepare to get blown.
Away.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Dude, Where's My Cynicism?
Hello everyone. We know, we missed our self imposed Wednesday deadline, but we swear it will, in all likelyhood, never fail to happen again.
This week was exciting in the neighborhood just slightly to the West of Hollywood, which we'll hereafter refer to as East Beverly Hills. On Tuesday we woke up raring to get to some serious votin'. Our new polling place is conveniently located right across the street from the house, and after a very brief walk over and some polite chatting with the senior citizens working there, we're happy to report that, though we have never officially joined any political party, we participated in the Democratic primary and proudly cast a ballot for one Barack Obama.
And why, you are asking, were we proud? That's the thing, we're not entirely sure. Now, here at The Pinyon, we pride ourselves on our steadfast reluctance to believe in ANYTHING. Be it UFO's, The Tooth Fairy, God, or that NASCAR is our country's most popular sport, whatever it is that you're selling, you'll have to go someplace else, cause we're just not buying it, and besides, even if we were, our credit is shot.
But something has happened to us, and we're not entirely sure that we like it. We've become something that for lack of a better word can only be called inspired. And here's the thing, we'd prefer not to be inspired right now, thank you very much, as we've got some boring everyday tasks to complete. The hallway is not going to Swiffer itself.
But for some reason, this man, who by all accounts is just a politician, has managed to awaken something in us that we not only thought was long dead, but actually had been surgically removed with our wisdom teeth when we were 19. But apparently not.
We have been listening to all of the candidates speak in recent weeks. We like some of the things that crazy little gnome Ron Paul says, despite the objections of our friend Dr. Siano, and we have respect for Dennis Kucinich's ability to land a super hot wife, but we haven't really cared one way or the other who won which debate, because as far as we're concerned, anything would be an improvement over the barely trained chimpanzee that we have in the White House now. But Obama is different.
He's different because he doesn't take money from lobbyists. He's different because he doesn't resort to partisan bickering at the drop of a hat. He's different because he didn't vote for the war in Iraq. He's different for this, the most embarrassing of our reasons, because we believe in him. We believe what he says and we believe what he stands for. And as scary as that is to write, it's even more unnerving to realize it's true. Because what happens if you believe in someone and then he loses? We don't know, as this is our maiden voyage into the waters of belief, but we're willing to bet it's not good.
The California Primary is over. Hillary Clinton won. But the race goes on, because millions of other people in other places also believe. He won 13 states on Tuesday, just not ours. And you know something, before this thing is over, he's going to win even more. And at the risk of sounding incredibly silly and naive, we just hope that it's enough.
And that's the problem, isn't it? That's the fear that keeps people comfortably insulated in their shells of apathy. No one wants to look silly. No one wants to be laughed at. No one wants to be fooled.
Well, folks, we've decided to throw in with the people who are taking that chance. We're quite used to being laughed at, and we can take it. So feel free to mock and ridicule if you wish, but do us a favor, and after you're done laughing, listen for a second. Listen to what he says. And then think. Think about the difference it would make if that man were our leader. Think about not being entrenched in an illegal and undeclared war. Think about living in a country where everyone you know could see a doctor if they got sick. Think about what it would be like to be respected as a nation like the legendary United States of America that we've all read about in the history books.
And then ask yourself if you can afford not to believe.
Hello everyone. We know, we missed our self imposed Wednesday deadline, but we swear it will, in all likelyhood, never fail to happen again.
This week was exciting in the neighborhood just slightly to the West of Hollywood, which we'll hereafter refer to as East Beverly Hills. On Tuesday we woke up raring to get to some serious votin'. Our new polling place is conveniently located right across the street from the house, and after a very brief walk over and some polite chatting with the senior citizens working there, we're happy to report that, though we have never officially joined any political party, we participated in the Democratic primary and proudly cast a ballot for one Barack Obama.
And why, you are asking, were we proud? That's the thing, we're not entirely sure. Now, here at The Pinyon, we pride ourselves on our steadfast reluctance to believe in ANYTHING. Be it UFO's, The Tooth Fairy, God, or that NASCAR is our country's most popular sport, whatever it is that you're selling, you'll have to go someplace else, cause we're just not buying it, and besides, even if we were, our credit is shot.
But something has happened to us, and we're not entirely sure that we like it. We've become something that for lack of a better word can only be called inspired. And here's the thing, we'd prefer not to be inspired right now, thank you very much, as we've got some boring everyday tasks to complete. The hallway is not going to Swiffer itself.
But for some reason, this man, who by all accounts is just a politician, has managed to awaken something in us that we not only thought was long dead, but actually had been surgically removed with our wisdom teeth when we were 19. But apparently not.
We have been listening to all of the candidates speak in recent weeks. We like some of the things that crazy little gnome Ron Paul says, despite the objections of our friend Dr. Siano, and we have respect for Dennis Kucinich's ability to land a super hot wife, but we haven't really cared one way or the other who won which debate, because as far as we're concerned, anything would be an improvement over the barely trained chimpanzee that we have in the White House now. But Obama is different.
He's different because he doesn't take money from lobbyists. He's different because he doesn't resort to partisan bickering at the drop of a hat. He's different because he didn't vote for the war in Iraq. He's different for this, the most embarrassing of our reasons, because we believe in him. We believe what he says and we believe what he stands for. And as scary as that is to write, it's even more unnerving to realize it's true. Because what happens if you believe in someone and then he loses? We don't know, as this is our maiden voyage into the waters of belief, but we're willing to bet it's not good.
The California Primary is over. Hillary Clinton won. But the race goes on, because millions of other people in other places also believe. He won 13 states on Tuesday, just not ours. And you know something, before this thing is over, he's going to win even more. And at the risk of sounding incredibly silly and naive, we just hope that it's enough.
And that's the problem, isn't it? That's the fear that keeps people comfortably insulated in their shells of apathy. No one wants to look silly. No one wants to be laughed at. No one wants to be fooled.
Well, folks, we've decided to throw in with the people who are taking that chance. We're quite used to being laughed at, and we can take it. So feel free to mock and ridicule if you wish, but do us a favor, and after you're done laughing, listen for a second. Listen to what he says. And then think. Think about the difference it would make if that man were our leader. Think about not being entrenched in an illegal and undeclared war. Think about living in a country where everyone you know could see a doctor if they got sick. Think about what it would be like to be respected as a nation like the legendary United States of America that we've all read about in the history books.
And then ask yourself if you can afford not to believe.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Today is Wednesday everyone, and you know what that means!
Oh wait, you don't because I haven't told you yet. From here on out, Wednesday will be the day that I write the newest weekly entry on this here infernal machine. I have received a lot of constructive criticism regarding my somewhat infrequent posting habits, and to those people I usually respond, "I got nothing to write."
Yes, my grammar is atrocious. But seriously, I've always been hesitant to blog about nothing, lest my loyal readership begin to think less of me, but I've decided to put those fears in the past and start anew. So from here on out, no matter how interesting it is or isn't, I'll be posting every Wednesday about the events of the preceding week, taking a cue from one of my favorite columns in The Stranger, Last Days.
So enough chit chat already, you've been warned, let's get on with it.
Today is Wednesday everyone, and you know what that means! Time for the week in review. This is what happened in my world in the last 7 days. Also, we're back to the Editorial We, starting with this sentence.
Wednesday January 16th- Today we woke up with a severe Las Vegas hangover and went through all the photos that were taken over the 3 days we spent in Sin City with 4 other members of the formerly mildly funny comedy group known as The Habit. Here is a sample.
Wow.
THURSDAY JANUARY 17th - This day gets the all caps treatment and bolded because it happened to be our 31st birthday. Upon waking, we treated ourselves to some coffee and pastries at our local coffee shop, before walking back home and joining our good friend Guacamoatmeal (pictured above) for a lovely morning of simulated violence. Next was lunch, where we dined with our good friend and neighbor Crystal at the famed Los Angeles mexican eatery, El Compadre. We had a burrito and a Cadillac Margarita, the perfect birthday lunch. Afterwards, we casually strolled up Sunset Blvd. to a nearby store and purchased our birthday gift to ourselves, a brand new electric guitar. We're not going to lie to you, we're horrible at it, but we've got lessons in our near future and pretty soon with any luck we'll just be pretty bad.
Friday January 18th brought our return to the working world. Yay. Not much else to report, played guitar during the day, worked at night. Ta daa.
Saturday January 19 - On this day we took the opportunity to check out the park across the street from our new house in West Hollywood, and more specifically, the basketball court. It's a nice enough setting, with a good surface, glass backboards, cloth nets, and palm trees to either side. The level of play was somewhat uneven and we happened to be on a team with someone who was absolutely convinced that he was Michael Jordan reincarnated, despite the fact that, last time we checked, Mr. Jordan was not deceased. At night, we worked.
Sunday January 20th - This day brought yet even more basketball playing, with a much cooler crowd, and the a pair of NFL Conference Championship games. We watched The Patriots beat the Chargers and won 10 bucks from our roommate Ed when San Diego covered the spread, and then watched a fantastic game between The New York Giants and The Green Bay Packers. We were rooting for our boy Brett Favre, but he lost the thing in overtime and the rest is history.
Monday Janua
OK. Enough. This is my life I'm writing about and even I'm not interested. You see everyone, this is why I don't write more, because I can't imagine anyone I know wanting to read about me watching football. In fact, I would normally just not post this, but I want you all to see that I've been trying here.
Maybe I'll get through the whole week next Wednesday. See you then.
Oh wait, you don't because I haven't told you yet. From here on out, Wednesday will be the day that I write the newest weekly entry on this here infernal machine. I have received a lot of constructive criticism regarding my somewhat infrequent posting habits, and to those people I usually respond, "I got nothing to write."
Yes, my grammar is atrocious. But seriously, I've always been hesitant to blog about nothing, lest my loyal readership begin to think less of me, but I've decided to put those fears in the past and start anew. So from here on out, no matter how interesting it is or isn't, I'll be posting every Wednesday about the events of the preceding week, taking a cue from one of my favorite columns in The Stranger, Last Days.
So enough chit chat already, you've been warned, let's get on with it.
Today is Wednesday everyone, and you know what that means! Time for the week in review. This is what happened in my world in the last 7 days. Also, we're back to the Editorial We, starting with this sentence.
Wednesday January 16th- Today we woke up with a severe Las Vegas hangover and went through all the photos that were taken over the 3 days we spent in Sin City with 4 other members of the formerly mildly funny comedy group known as The Habit. Here is a sample.
Wow.
THURSDAY JANUARY 17th - This day gets the all caps treatment and bolded because it happened to be our 31st birthday. Upon waking, we treated ourselves to some coffee and pastries at our local coffee shop, before walking back home and joining our good friend Guacamoatmeal (pictured above) for a lovely morning of simulated violence. Next was lunch, where we dined with our good friend and neighbor Crystal at the famed Los Angeles mexican eatery, El Compadre. We had a burrito and a Cadillac Margarita, the perfect birthday lunch. Afterwards, we casually strolled up Sunset Blvd. to a nearby store and purchased our birthday gift to ourselves, a brand new electric guitar. We're not going to lie to you, we're horrible at it, but we've got lessons in our near future and pretty soon with any luck we'll just be pretty bad.
Friday January 18th brought our return to the working world. Yay. Not much else to report, played guitar during the day, worked at night. Ta daa.
Saturday January 19 - On this day we took the opportunity to check out the park across the street from our new house in West Hollywood, and more specifically, the basketball court. It's a nice enough setting, with a good surface, glass backboards, cloth nets, and palm trees to either side. The level of play was somewhat uneven and we happened to be on a team with someone who was absolutely convinced that he was Michael Jordan reincarnated, despite the fact that, last time we checked, Mr. Jordan was not deceased. At night, we worked.
Sunday January 20th - This day brought yet even more basketball playing, with a much cooler crowd, and the a pair of NFL Conference Championship games. We watched The Patriots beat the Chargers and won 10 bucks from our roommate Ed when San Diego covered the spread, and then watched a fantastic game between The New York Giants and The Green Bay Packers. We were rooting for our boy Brett Favre, but he lost the thing in overtime and the rest is history.
Monday Janua
OK. Enough. This is my life I'm writing about and even I'm not interested. You see everyone, this is why I don't write more, because I can't imagine anyone I know wanting to read about me watching football. In fact, I would normally just not post this, but I want you all to see that I've been trying here.
Maybe I'll get through the whole week next Wednesday. See you then.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
LAST PUBLISHED ON MAY 23RD
Those were the words that looked me in the face when I finally decided to dust this puppy off and play a game of fetch in the park with it. Now what the infernal blogging contraption said to me was a simple statement of fact, but I frankly didn't care for it's tone. F you, blog machine.
So welcome back to all 5 or maybe 10 of the readers I have left, I've missed you. The others were weak, but you stayed. You had faith. You knew I would return. Or you're just bored on the computer. Either way you're here and we might as well make a thing of it.
I wondered the other day about what will happen to all of these blogs a hundred years from now. Will my nephew's children be able to read these words that I'm typing now, looking for some insight into what a distant relative was like?
If so, stay in school kids, for as long as you can. Don't you roll your eyes at me, punk, this is your great uncle talking to you from beyond the grave, so show some fucking respect. Sheesh, The Living.
The past few months have been somewhat eventful for the old Ry-Ry, (no one calls me that kids) I was just in The New York City to film a movie called Gumshoe Licked, look for it at Sundance, and before that I was in a few shorts that were written by my good friend Terry Scannell, of the Philadelphia Scannells. These shorts were turned into commercials for some imitation Sprite flavored beverage and can be found on Youtube, right here.
As you know, I went to Orlando Florida in May to do a show with my good buddy Mark Siano. Boy it was "fun". After that we hooked up in Seattle in July to try out our idea for a show about people telling stories. That was actual fun. People seemed to dig it, and hopefully the next time I'm up there we can put on another one. Here's a picture.
He's a big dumb animal, isn't he folks.
So now that we're caught up, let's try and do this more often. I miss us. Go out and live your lives, dear readers, make yourselves happy, but come back soon and I promise this place won't look the same for months on end again. In case it does though, don't blame me, blame Halo 3.
Peace in The NFC East.
Those were the words that looked me in the face when I finally decided to dust this puppy off and play a game of fetch in the park with it. Now what the infernal blogging contraption said to me was a simple statement of fact, but I frankly didn't care for it's tone. F you, blog machine.
So welcome back to all 5 or maybe 10 of the readers I have left, I've missed you. The others were weak, but you stayed. You had faith. You knew I would return. Or you're just bored on the computer. Either way you're here and we might as well make a thing of it.
I wondered the other day about what will happen to all of these blogs a hundred years from now. Will my nephew's children be able to read these words that I'm typing now, looking for some insight into what a distant relative was like?
If so, stay in school kids, for as long as you can. Don't you roll your eyes at me, punk, this is your great uncle talking to you from beyond the grave, so show some fucking respect. Sheesh, The Living.
The past few months have been somewhat eventful for the old Ry-Ry, (no one calls me that kids) I was just in The New York City to film a movie called Gumshoe Licked, look for it at Sundance, and before that I was in a few shorts that were written by my good friend Terry Scannell, of the Philadelphia Scannells. These shorts were turned into commercials for some imitation Sprite flavored beverage and can be found on Youtube, right here.
As you know, I went to Orlando Florida in May to do a show with my good buddy Mark Siano. Boy it was "fun". After that we hooked up in Seattle in July to try out our idea for a show about people telling stories. That was actual fun. People seemed to dig it, and hopefully the next time I'm up there we can put on another one. Here's a picture.
He's a big dumb animal, isn't he folks.
So now that we're caught up, let's try and do this more often. I miss us. Go out and live your lives, dear readers, make yourselves happy, but come back soon and I promise this place won't look the same for months on end again. In case it does though, don't blame me, blame Halo 3.
Peace in The NFC East.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
15 Days in Orlando
We've recently arrived in Orlando, Florida with our good friend Dr. Mark Siano to do two things, kick some ass and put on some shows. And we're almost out of shows. More on that later. For now, here's a couple shots of our favorite nephew Maverick in the park with some jerkbag. And yes, that is The Bird. What can we say folks, he is awesome. Hope all is well with everyone.
We've recently arrived in Orlando, Florida with our good friend Dr. Mark Siano to do two things, kick some ass and put on some shows. And we're almost out of shows. More on that later. For now, here's a couple shots of our favorite nephew Maverick in the park with some jerkbag. And yes, that is The Bird. What can we say folks, he is awesome. Hope all is well with everyone.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Hey everyone! Hard at work here in sunny Los Angeles. Mark Siano and I have a show in Orlando, Florida that's starts in a couple weeks, so it's time we got crackin'. He arrives tomorrow, but in the meantime we've been entertaining a house guest from the Big Apple. He's kind of a big deal. You may have heard of him, his name's Tom.
Friday, April 20, 2007
TIME TO GET REAL
I'm starting to think this movie star thing might not work out as fast as I'd hoped. There. I've admitted it. Now can we all just move on? I know I have.
For instance, I've recently decided that perhaps I need to consider the fact that I may no longer want the glamorous highly sought after job of Los Angeles Restaurant Server. Oh sure, to a few of you that sentence sounds downright blasphemous, but hear me out. I don't want to wait tables for the rest of my life. Happy now?
And since we've already established that I'm not going to be in Spiderman 5 or Ocean's Seventeen any time soon, I needed to find a different career path where I could still be somewhat creative and also financially prosperous at the same time. So I harkened back to the dreams of my youth and carefully reevaluated all of the things that I was interested in being before I caught the acting bug.
Cowboy? Nope. Too hard. Plus, not gay.
Astronaut? See above.
Teacher? Yeah right. Have you seen my grammar lately?
Dolphin Trainer? Wait. That was my Mom's dream job! How dare she try to live an amazing life through me.
And then I remembered my second favorite class in school after Drama. No it wasn't journalism (sorry Miss Simeone), it was (drum roll please)
Photography.
I used to spend hours and hours in the dark room, sometimes even developing pictures that other people had taken, often times without their knowledge or permission. I loved taking real photographs, not just snapshots that you took to those photo developing booths in parking lots (remember those?), but the kind where you had a say in how the image actually turned out, for better or worse.
OK, I hear what you're saying. Enough with the boring details, we get it, you're going to be photographer. Fine, go do it.
OK, I will. I'll show you. I'll show everybody. In fact, I've already purchased a fantastically expensive camera and have been hard at work shooting people. Wait. That sounded weird. I shoot animals too. And things! I shoot everything! Oh well, moving on. I've just submitted some work to a little publication I like to call Cat Fancy Magazine and while you may scoff and snicker at the subject matter, consider the fact that each picture brings in $500.
I'm sorry, it's too late, I already called dibs on being a photographer, you have to stick to your own crummy job. But if you ever decide to quit it and move to LA to be a movie star, I'll wish you the best of luck, and only charge you half price for your headshots. No refunds.
The previous post contains some of my early work. Crude yes, but I'm only getting started. I'll be posting pictures more soon and regularly from now on, so feel free to comment on the ones you like or hate. And if you're interested in prints, just call me at home, Mom.
I'm starting to think this movie star thing might not work out as fast as I'd hoped. There. I've admitted it. Now can we all just move on? I know I have.
For instance, I've recently decided that perhaps I need to consider the fact that I may no longer want the glamorous highly sought after job of Los Angeles Restaurant Server. Oh sure, to a few of you that sentence sounds downright blasphemous, but hear me out. I don't want to wait tables for the rest of my life. Happy now?
And since we've already established that I'm not going to be in Spiderman 5 or Ocean's Seventeen any time soon, I needed to find a different career path where I could still be somewhat creative and also financially prosperous at the same time. So I harkened back to the dreams of my youth and carefully reevaluated all of the things that I was interested in being before I caught the acting bug.
Cowboy? Nope. Too hard. Plus, not gay.
Astronaut? See above.
Teacher? Yeah right. Have you seen my grammar lately?
Dolphin Trainer? Wait. That was my Mom's dream job! How dare she try to live an amazing life through me.
And then I remembered my second favorite class in school after Drama. No it wasn't journalism (sorry Miss Simeone), it was (drum roll please)
Photography.
I used to spend hours and hours in the dark room, sometimes even developing pictures that other people had taken, often times without their knowledge or permission. I loved taking real photographs, not just snapshots that you took to those photo developing booths in parking lots (remember those?), but the kind where you had a say in how the image actually turned out, for better or worse.
OK, I hear what you're saying. Enough with the boring details, we get it, you're going to be photographer. Fine, go do it.
OK, I will. I'll show you. I'll show everybody. In fact, I've already purchased a fantastically expensive camera and have been hard at work shooting people. Wait. That sounded weird. I shoot animals too. And things! I shoot everything! Oh well, moving on. I've just submitted some work to a little publication I like to call Cat Fancy Magazine and while you may scoff and snicker at the subject matter, consider the fact that each picture brings in $500.
I'm sorry, it's too late, I already called dibs on being a photographer, you have to stick to your own crummy job. But if you ever decide to quit it and move to LA to be a movie star, I'll wish you the best of luck, and only charge you half price for your headshots. No refunds.
The previous post contains some of my early work. Crude yes, but I'm only getting started. I'll be posting pictures more soon and regularly from now on, so feel free to comment on the ones you like or hate. And if you're interested in prints, just call me at home, Mom.
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