Genius or Crap? You make the call!

I created an abortion of a mashup from a handful of songs. Click here to give it a listen. Then, after you've finished, let me know what you think. Is it a brilliant creation or a terrible monstrosity?

Also, if you can name one of the four artists used in the mix, post it in a comment and I will award you a wonderful prize (prize yet to be determined).

Strike Update (and some other stuff)

As Sven Golly pointed out, the strike is not happening yet (sort of). But there is a new deadline: 12:01 am Monday night. This could possibly mean a lack of train service on Tuesday morning. In the mean time, the Transit Worker's Union has started out small: boycotting certain bus lines today. Apparently by striking in small increments, they will get their point across better. I'll be sure to update you all if anything significant happens.

On an unrelated topic:
I am sleepy.

Also:
I'm still at work and have nothing that I want to do, but I have to sit here for another half-hour until LG comes and gets me to go to a party in Jersey City. So I need to kill some time...I guess that's what the internet is for.
So far I've found this.

Transit Strike Looming...get your golashes ready!

Well, it seems that the terrible transit strike plague has spread northward from Philadelphia to NYC. The word on the street is that the MTA employees will begin striking at 12:01 am Friday morning (that's Thursday night for those of us who stay up past midnight). The impact of such a strike would be pretty crippling to the city, and would piss me off something awful. While it would be a nice excuse to not go into work, there are things that I need to do at work by the end of December that cannot wait. This being so, I would feel obligated to head into work at least a few days a week even if there is no transportation. I've been offered a car ride from WIlliamsburg, Brooklyn...but that's about an hour walk from my apartment (at least). So the only options left for me would be: walking to work (about a two hour hike in 15 degree weather) or taking the Long Island Railroad and hour east into L.I. and then an hour and a half west back into Manhattan. Pretty much anything I do will be an epic trek. Compared to the nice, leisurely 35 subway ride that I currently have.
All of this complaining is really a non-issue at this point. But it's best to prepare for the possibility by only thinking of the most awful outcomes. Otherwise it wouldn't be whining.

PS- Saddest strike ever:

Bad movies for good people

For any of us who have suffered sitting through terrible films at the behest of our so-called friends (or those that have forced their friends to watch them), this Slate podcast will touch your very soul. While some of our favorite bad films (such as "The Warriors" or "Manos") are not mentioned, the stories are similar. Check out the podcast here.

Any idea?

While I sit here, waiting for work to be delivered to me by a very late outside vendor, I have time to think about things in my life and wonder what I’m doing with myself. All of this time to myself to think about things bothers me, though. There seems to be not too much going on in my head these days. I’ve been tapped out of interesting ideas and stories and haven’t been able to tell a good joke or witty tale. All I have is simple and useless conversational rhetoric.
What does this drying up of my brain signify? Am I losing my ability to create complex things? Have I already used up all of the good ideas that I was born with, oozing them slowly out of me in a mental menstruation? Have I hit cerebral menopause? Or is this merely a slight downturn in my life of writing and storytelling? I do hope that it is the latter.
I do not wholly rely on my writing to validate my existence, but it’s pretty close. Without the writing and the small hope of success that accompanies it, I feel like I have no real purpose on this planet. Seeing as travel to another planet where my laziness and half-hearted enthusiasm for life will bring me riches and respect is probably not going to happen (though I hold out hope), I must be content to float around aimlessly, hoping to rediscover whatever it was that I had. The only problem with this aimless floating is that, in the meanwhile, I feel like I am wasting my time and effort with such uselessness as television, video games, and eating.
As I was sitting in my living room last night, having finished reading both David Sedaris’ “Me Talk Pretty One Day” and C.S. Lewis’ first “Narnia” book, I wondered whether I could write anything as good as either of these things. I decided then and there that I couldn’t. It’s not that I think I am a bad writer; I just have nothing to write about. All of the good ideas have already been taken. And the bad ones as well, I guess. I can’t write a story about a young wizard named Harry without looking like I ripped it off from someone else. And, since I’ve no good ideas of my own at the moment, I cannot write something new and wonderful either.
So where does this leave me? Apparently, all I have left is to spout nonsensical whining on my blog. That is all I could come up with while sitting here waiting for things to be handed to me so that I can make my little red marks and change the world one punctuation mark at a time.

The Happiest Time of Year

It seems unavoidable: Christmas is coming. Every year, a day or two after the Thanksgiving holiday (often before the leftover turkey has been made into one final meal) the wreaths and garland and terrible songs seem to ooze out of every house and business and office building. I try my best to distance myself from these reminders of happy times and human kindness.
Yet, every year, I am confronted with a sad, but obvious truth: there is no ignoring Christmas. From gift-buying to carol-singing to tree-decorating, the holiday pervades every portion of one's life. Walking along 5th Avenue in Brooklyn, I see at least a dozen Christmasy decorations and displays. While at work, the number is even higher.
The worst part of it all, the music, seems to come earlier and earlier every year. I can handle the bows and garish decorations, but the music is just too much to bear. I think it highly unfair to subject perfectly innocent people to Alvin and the Chipmunks singing about their favorite holiday. In the lobby of the building where I work, the music has been going (non-stop) since Monday. I only have to deal with it a few times a day, and that is plenty. I feel terribly sorry for the poor sons of bitches who stand sentry at the guard desk and have to endure the tunes for 8 or 9 hours a day. I think it might drive me to kill. Or at least maim.
This all being said, I do like Christmas and consider it my favorite holiday. It's the month long build-up to the holiday that bothers me and makes my blood boil. But I will persevere, lowering my head and walking swiftly from place to place in order to avoid the constant affront. And when approached with a "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" I will kindly smile, say nothing, and think about the bruised-purple color a person's face turns when strangled with a string of Christmas lights.