But certainly not forgotten.

They have subleased.

To their fellow kind.

The French girls are gone!

I have made this film addressing some of the issues that arose, during their stay here on Broome St.

I will now tell you five things you don't know about me:

Me and McDonalds.

1. Out of love for sentient creatures, I was a vegetarian for about seven years. With blithe resolve, and a somewhat misaligned sense of compensation, I ended my vegetarianism - after an episode of road rage in Oklahoma. I pulled off the next exit, drove right up to McDonalds, ordered a Quarter Pounder w/ cheese...

(I've yet to blink, even once.)


2. When I was eight, and being driven to school one day, my dear Dad (he's dead, of course) told me to get out of the car and go stand in the drive-through line. He had to go to the motor lodge to call in his bets (of course). Now - I was a sharp kid, and that morning I remember struggling with what, I must assume, was one of my first intuitive dilemmas. While I was certain there would be no time wasted by going INSIDE the establishment to order, and I had a pressing hunch that the drive-through was strictly for driving through... I loved my Dad very, very much and I sensed that he would be humiliated to learn, from his GIRL+CHILD, that his directive was inane. So, I assumed my position behind a Chevy, and in front of a Buick. I waited for my turn at the speaker, approached...and began to order.

With vigor.

And with the tiniest seed of hope that, both:

A. my Dad really was an all-knowing ace


and

B. that we just might achieve breakfast in this unseemly manner.

The woman in the Buick obliterated my hope, for both, after some minutes:

"GIRL! GIRL> GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRL! You gotta have the weight of a CAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHR to activate that machine now! Let's go! Get on now!"

Yet, because I LOVED my Dad so much, I chose to stand by his command. (AKA: It was this morning that I first considered the possible benefits of "playing dumb" for the love of a man.)

Stout-heartedly, I did not go inside.

We didn't eat breakfast that morning.

But!

I'm sure my Dad never questioned how much I loved him.
(Especially when I took up smoking so we could have more in common.)


3. When I was in college, I would set my alarm clock for 10:27 AM -
JUST so I could call in to *my* neighborhood McDonalds and ask them to save me two egg and cheese biscuits.

Every morning.

Even when I spent years abroad.

(I am their favorite customer!)


4. I do not endorse the movie "Supersize Me". Back in '99, I lived on nothing but McDonalds, three times a day, for well over three months. I never felt better in my life. Granted - I did not practice supersizing...(Edit to admit: and eating two egg and cheese biscuits every day really is not a good idea ---> nor is eating a bulbous pile of buckwheat every morning for that most imperative matter...)
But. I do feel that, if you are metabolically sound, one serving of the "regular" portion meals will MOST efficiently keep you full and fueled for many hours.

Pure subsistent elegance!

(That's what I say.)


5. I haven't read "Fast Food Nation".

(And - I refuse to blink about that either.)




* This post is for a "Tag" game. I think I'm supposed to tag five other bloggers or... the world explodes. (Like with chain letters?)
**My blogging loop, of two or three, has already been set to task! So, my sweet, sweet Jen (THE GREAT) - I definitely apologize for any mass chaos caused by my lack of friends and/or email addresses.

YouTube lineup for Nana!

This is what Nana and I would watch on Sunday nights, back in the day.

A fine morning!

That's what we had!

I learn so much from Loretta.

I've always wanted to be just like her.

JUST.


LYNN: Once in a while, I get inspired and finish my act with the hillbilly hoedown.

SRONCE: Works for you. For Ashlee Simpson, not so much. Did you see her do that on SNL a couple of years ago?

Just like her.

You may recall, so did Ronee Blakley:


LYNN: I've had chest surgery and blood poisoning and, sometimes, I pass out on stage from migraine headaches.


So did, Oscar winner, Sissy Spacek:


LYNN: I never knew any Jews until I got into show business. I've found them to be real smart and good workers.

SRONCE: Hmmm. Hey! Look what I just pulled up! Here, let's watch! Can you hear it okay?




I could look at country all day long...


GO!

Чебурашка

Здравствуйте!

Россия,
Я пропускаю вас. 10 лет, слишком длиной. Я планирую отключение на Востоке курьерском на лето. Iий длиной, котор нужно увидеть вас и поплавать в вашем Volga. С всем leashed обезьяны!
Здесь к 2007 и many more успешно полетам в космос!


Любовь,
А. Рэндалл Сронс

P.S. The song featured in Cheburashka is the Russian "Birthday Song"... which I absolutely love. For this reason, I dedicate this post to Ivan Ivanov. Ivan was my taxi driver to the Greenpoint impound lot, where my car was being held earlier this week by some men and several cats. Ivan insisted on taking the BQE at around 4:30 post meridiem. As such was the case, I asked him to please tell me all about the Baltic Sea and to sing the "Birthday Song".
(He did both of these things many times over and eventually dropped me off, feeling most justified in driving off with an $18.00 tip.)

Come on down! Pick your Jesus!

I love Jesus!

Afterall, I AM from the mountains of the North Carolina/Georgia/Hennessy border!

Of COURSE I love Jesus!!


While White Jesus is my least favorite,


(friggin' martyr)

I'm a HUGE fan of Black Jesus.


Naturally.

But.

My favorite Jesus is:


Seagull Jesus.

I love this movie.

And, yes, it's pretty much about Jesus... But, only if you INSIST.

Big whoop.

It's beautiful.

(Especially when read in Spanish!)

My mother always used to say that Neil Diamond secluded himself on a desert island for many, many months to write the soundtrack.

(I have no idea whether this is true, or not.)

Now. If you are a bit squeemish about Jesus, or God...in order to enjoy this perfectly lovely film - I suggest you pretend Jonathan is talking to Barbara Walters the entire time.

You know...

"Dear Barbara, we dream! WE DREAM!"



I love seagulls.

Weren't we just talking about this?

It's on Showtime right now.

America!

I'm still not sick of this:

Does Bill Cosby have a glass eye?

That one.

Does anyone know?

Is it horrible for me to wonder?*

I have for years.





* Someone got REALLY mad at me once for asking.

A Three Day Review:

I couldn't have enjoyed anything more than this:


THE HARLEM HERO!



Except for, maybe, this:



One would think that might have been MORE than enough fanciful joy to cram into a midweek.

But.

No.

I am so greedy.

Dammit.

On my way home tonight, I dropped in to see Pan's Labyrinth:


Edited to simplify: What a horrible film.

I blame Spain - FOREVER.

My life is ruined.

An Open Letter:

January 4, 2007

Dearest **Edward*James*Olmos**,

Forgive me for reaching you “out of the blue” like this. However, I could not restrain myself from taking plume to parchment. This urgency is no doubt provoked by the turn of the New Year, and my approaching age of “electability”. (Though certainly, not FAST approaching…)

No doubt, you remember, as well as I do, that night in Chapel Hill, North Carolina – back in ‘97. You had given a rousing speech on the need for the inspired education and inclusion of minorities in America with, I recall, much emphasis on the need for similar improvements in Mexico. I wish I could remember more from your speech. But, you see, I can only really remember ONE thing you said that night. And it was to me, Ashley Shompke. (Actually, to you - Ashley SCHRONCH! Ashley SPROCKEY! Ashley SCROPOCE!)

When we parted ways, you cried out a prophecy that once inspired me to no fathomed end. Now, ten years later, I hate to reveal, it does nothing so much more as haunt and torment me. The certainty with which you declared that I, “Ashley SPROCKEY”, would become the “first female President”, lifted me on snow white wings... for a couple of years.

But, something happened.

As a matter of fact, a series of endless “somethings” have happened with such forcefulness - that I find I am barely capable of explaining to you how frightfully unfit I am, for the position of “First Female President of The United States of America “. There is a chance that I could pull my act together by the time I’m 35. Afterall, that is very, very, very far from now. But, unlike you, I have no faith in prophecy. That is not to say that I do not believe in God, in a very certain and adorable way. (So. I am not unsuitable in all regards.)

However, my belief in Church is as frightfully low as my belief in State. How did this happen? There are not, as some insist,
and I'm sure you follow, just the two roads to journey. The one traveled and the one not... the one fueled by faith and delusion and the one by industry…

There was a detritic cone pile in Russia I traveled, while being chased by four Rottweilers and one - Cocker Spaniel. There was that cravass ridden Khumbu Icefall, that required leaping over…There may, or may not, have been a witchdoctor guiding me towards a light in Timor...There was certainly a trip with a swamp rabbit...There was Crow Pass, part of the old Iditarod trail, to bear call through…The flooded Rios: Futeleufu, Youghiogheny, and Kosi to drown in…Pastoral, mock fox hunting runs to - absolutely nowhere… I too made a very loud donkey noise - during a very quiet jazz set on the Upper West Side... There were guided strolls through Ngorongoro Crater…Somewhere in there, I choked on a pretzel and sold my Purple Heart on ebay... There was a cow path my companion and I traveled in India for three days that lead to many untapped revelations. There was also much Bhang Lassi. These were completely legal and delightful to consume in Varanassi (while contributing to only a few tourist poisonings); but this could not possibly translate well, on my application for employment as Commander in Chief.

Edward, it is now that I must be completely honest with your kind and hopeful heart. While parts of the marijuana plant may very well be legal for intake in India, and some corners of Alaska…and even as it grows like the common dandelion in Russia…

Never one to enjoy not being the bringer of my own bad news, I should also be the first to inform you : Once, after following your call to help improve education for minorities in America, while I was teaching Special Ed (...and, oh, how we know what a “disability” it is to speak E as a SL!) I accidentally “gave” a cigarette to a six foot tall, three hundred pound, Samoan girl. (In my defense, she seemed MUCH older than 13, and it was clear that she was going to get that cigarette - no matter what.)

I guess it’s a wash at this point. This is just one area where I fall below expectation. I am perfectly qualified in every other capacity. Yet, my potted head is solemnly hung. My deathbed thoughts will be drunk with the regret of having disappointed you so gravely.

I don’t want you to worry about me though! As I described above, there are many roads! Be comforted!

I will soon find much success and renown as : an inventor!

Of : a dog leash!

In closing, I am forced to request, and with complete humility, that you please revoke my potential nomination, for the sake of the world ---- and your very own good name!

With infinite respect and admiration,
A.R. Schprokey

I would have something stunning to say about this:

...had I not slept through it.

The IFC Center is, perhaps, a little too comfortable.

Well, I know it was really good. I think it uses some of the very first special effects.

And, the Beast is hot.

Did you catch this New Year's message?

For some reason, my reaction to this is: "Like, uhmmm, yeah. We know, Stephen. You may need to get out more."

BBC >> Tetris - From Russia With Love

"A hard to find documentary about Tetris and its creator Alexey Pajitnov. Also covers the rivalaries between Nintendo and Atari and the absurdities of buying copyrights for software from a country that doesn't believe in property, much less intellectual property. Ultimately, a great documentary about a very important game."

REAL ESTATE INVESTMENT REPORT: The Importance of Your Credit Score

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