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Monthly Archives: May 2003


ROSEN. blaaaaaattt….

You can’t deny it —

Donald Rumsfeld. Sam the Eagle.

Comics To Buy

Shill, shill, shill.

Blood Hunger And Haiku

I just had this line I wanted to write, is all.

Boulevards of Death

That’s a kind of silly title, isn’t it? I mean, HIGHWAY of DEATH sounds imposing, but “boulevard?”

Adventures in Communication: Bulleted Lists

Men who won’t get off the elevator, subway riders with monster balls, public officials with marbles in their mouths and doctors with REALLY BAD HANDWRITING.

Detritus: Physical Attributes of Queens, etc.

Baby birds, the end of the universe, the beginning of graduate school, and weak men.

Memory-Limited, or, From the Hip

Went running today. My dad, an inveterate marathoner, used to encourage us to note whether we were leg-limited or lung-limited during a given run; it’s only recently that this kind of take on a body has to me seemed limited. In dance class, I am frequently space-limited, back-limited, or arm-limited. Running must be about something […]

You’re From Coney Island, And Little Coney Island Is Famous For You

Because you eat fire and shake your tits on stage. The song doesn’t mention that part. That’s my job.

The Dancing Sausage Comeback Special

DSWJ not dead; television’s inflated self-importance, while little Coney Island is famous for YOU; premenstrual dysphoria disorder in the arms of the pharmaceuticlappers.