El Regreso del Chupacabra

I thought I escaped the Chupacabra when I came to this country. It apparently decided to swim after me and perished in the waters off Montauk.

The Daily Intelligencer seems convinced that this is not a hoax. Indeed, it lacks the terrorist overtones of the Great Boston Cartoon Bomb Hoax of '07.

If the Montauk Monster (not to be confused with William Joel) is indeed real, then my path in life is clear. My childhood dreams of becoming a Ghostbuster were dashed when it became apparent that ghosts do not exist. Now, however, I can cease the lawyering and become a monsterbuster. Or, better yet, I'll commence working on a script that is a spinoff/ripoff of the 80s movies. I'll call Monsterbusters, it'll be directed by Michael Bay, have a useless cameo by Bill Murray, and star Jack Black and Will Ferrell. It will make millions, and, more importantly, allow me the creative freedom to purse my true artistic, um, pursuit: the Snakes on a Plane sequel, Bears on a Boat.

Of course, the Montauk Monster is not as scary as Groverfield, but still.

Cornell Also Has "Happiest Employee"

On this, the last day of July, Ivygate presents us with an Ivy summary of The Princeton Review's The Best 368 Colleges 2009. While not affiliated with Princeton University, The Princeton Review does give the Tigers the most beautiful campus, the second-best library, third best quality of life, and so on, capping it off with a well-deserved special award for "Athletic Program Every Other Ivy Athlete Hates the Most."

So how did Cornell fare?

Cornell:
#5 Best College Library
#14 Best Career/Job Placement Services
#11 Best Campus Food
#7 Most Connected Campuses
(The guide says: “People just hate, hate, hate the food here.”)

Recognition of the library makes sense, although people don't really actually study there. Going to the library was mostly just to talk to people when it wasn't quite time to talk to people at the bars yet.

What shocks me is the blatant lie that people hated the food there. Food at Cornell is terrific, and graduates really miss it. Although more expensive than oil and sequestered behind lines that gave Soviets flashbacks, Statler Salads were a good excuse to pretend to be healthy. The confluence of brunch at Appel, Mongo's Grill, the Buffalo Chicken sandwiches at the Ivy Room and the selection of food-that-will-kill-you-within-five-years at both Hot Truck and Louie's Lunch, set to the soundtrack of Happy Dave's hip, hip, hip 80's collection, is sorely missed. To the guy who thinks is projecting that people "hate, hate, hate" the food at Cornell, I can only say: you, sir, are a hater.

Dance in your Pants

I have just been spammed, yet again, by BU. Today's event is called,

Exclusive BU Presale for So You Think You Can Dance 2008

in letters that big.

By now I've gotten used to "exclusive" (BU has 30,000 students) offers to go see the High School Musical "stars," Carrie Underwood, and something people call a Hannah Montana.

It seems presumptuous, however, to assume that I think I can dance. I emphatically think know that I can not dance. But BU thinks otherwise. Perhaps because I am Latino. Others have made that mistake and forced me to the dance floor. And let me tell you, there is nothing as crushing as the disappointment that slowly dawns on a girl when she realizes that I was neither kidding nor shy, and "dance" mostly by simulating a maraca motion almost-but-not-quite to the beat.

So I ain't going to this one, I don't think. But anyone up for Carrie Underwood?

p.s. This guy has been watched 94 million times. 94 million!

Death of a Scrabulous

I guess someone should say a few words.

Thanks to lawyers, the most popular device ever to sustain law students lies broken at our feet, letter boxes scattered willy nilly, as if your younger brother had just lost a game, and flung it in his fury.

Only this time, no one will pick up the pieces.

Scrabulous, I never played you. I did, however, watch my classmates take to you with great abandon, at the expense of their understanding of civil procedure. It comforted me to know even classholes were not immune from your charms, and could spend hours trying to make a non-Czech word using only X, Y, and T. You certainly gave us some difficult times. Who can forget the great vowel shortage of '03? Or the B embargo of '06?

I'm glad you died peacefully in your sleep, and not in the middle of class. I can only imagine the riots that would have occurred, as people slowly realized they had to pay attention to Secured Transactions.

May you rest in pieces.

Why a Blog?

Why not?

I enjoy writing. Ostensibly, you enjoy reading. My column, which ran for dozens of years, enjoyed a healthy readership and was at least tolerated by my friends. For several reasons-- foremost among them the fact that my well has run dry-- as well as a necessity to transition into the terrifying netherworld of adult life, I am more than likely to discontinue it. I can't produce 1,000 words a week anymore.

I would do a retirement speech, but, at the risk of turning into the Mexican Brett Favre, I'll refrain.

However, since I enjoy writing and pretending to pay attention in class, I thought a blog could be a good idea. Several ideas, events, and minutiae deserve, if not a thousand words, at least a couple dozen.

So welcome to my thoughts and what is surely to be a chronicle of a failed attempt to reside permanently in this wonderful country. At some point I'll hit my stride. I hope it's soon. The Feds are gaining.

My First Time

Making a first post, I imagine, is much like making the first move on a girl.

All the encouraging signs are there. It's just me and the internets, alone in my apartment. The lights have been darkened, music plays softly and the empowering buzz of liquid courage courses both through my veins and its circuits. The latter is a result of me spilling a bit of my scotch on the keyboard. My computer did not seem to like it. Perhaps the afterbirth is too oaky.

But we can disregard that. Everything is primed and ready. All that remains is the not unsubstantial obstacle that is the first move. But doubt, much like my compatriots, finds a way to sneak in.

Maybe the interweb has a boyfriend already. Across this great nation, millions waste their time on these things, these blogs, arrogantly believing that what they say is something unique that people want to read and optimistically believing that they will keep up this blogger-blogdome relationship until the death of the other does them part.

Maybe I'm misreading the situation and my first move will not be well-received. Maybe my overture will be taken for what it is: a desperate need for attention. Maybe my draping my arm around its shoulders will be met by a wiggle, a trip to the bathroom, and a transparent declaration that it's getting late. Or, perhaps worse, a "what are you doing?"

Maybe this is not a good idea. Maybe we'll wake up tomorrow, hungover, and realize our game of chicken went too far, and one is now stuck with the other. And people will talk, as they are wont to do, and say not so great things, and, within a few years, we'll be relegated to sitting in our living room, glaring at each other in obvious discontent, cursing the other silently for ruining both our lives.

A hundred--well, maybe just several-- reasons exist as to why not to do this. But you know what? Screw it. The information superhighway, despite or because of the scotch, seems to have a "come hither" look. At the very least, it's thinking to itself "why not?" We're both here, on my couch, and who knows, maybe we'll have some good-looking babies.

So here goes nothing.