The Pantheon Outcast

The answer, to those who have been asking, is YES, I am alive. And well. Too well, actually. And when Valannin has nothing to bitch about, Valannin doesn't feel much like writing. In fact, you might go as so far as to say I'm relatively happy. It's true; I haven't had a drop of Scotch in months! Wine, beer, Vodka, Tequila and a little crack, but no Scotch. Partly because I'm all out, but mostly because a lot of the reasons behind the drinking of the scotch have somewhat vanished. Give it a few months; I'll be back on the sauce. Optimism abounds. Don't worry, I haven't lost my edge. I still think someone should stuff Al Gore and Michael Moore into a burlap sack, shove them into the back of a Ford Thunderbird and drive it into the Hudson river. Live Earth, what a joke. Millionaire rockstars who took their private jets to the venue and then plugged in 50 or so 100 watt amplifiers to play overprocessed corporate rock under 1100 spotlights are going to tell m

Occasionally, when I’m not actively engaged in my daily responsibilities of whiskey-drinking, cigarette-smoking and guitar-playing, I like to do a little pro-bono work for the American public. When people, or groups of people, begin to make astronomically stupid claims that they are “owed” something from the rest of the population, I step in and make sure that there is some merit to their arguments. Here is the transcript of one such mediation: All rise. The honorable Judge Valannin now presiding over the case of Pure Logic vs. The People of the Incorporated Village of Hempstead, New York . This case will determine whether the people have any justifiable claim in their demand for a taxpayer-funded hospital facility in their vicinity. Ok, folks, you can take your seats. Before we get started, I need to know who will be speaking for the defendants. Your honor, I am Dr. Aubrey Lewis, I’m a Cardiologist from Merrick, Long Island. I’ll be speaking on behalf of the 65,000 people who live in

I know I'm a month late, but I finally made a New Year’s resolution: I’m going to stop being tolerant of things I cannot possibly tolerate. Quite frankly, I’m getting sick of the word and the abstract, often syntactically incorrect usage foisted upon us by the Thought Police of the American media and the educational system. You can’t watch a news program, or pick up a textbook without the word being flung at you from every corner, more often than not accompanied by a sense of shameful obligation. Religious tolerance, cultural tolerance; I’ve actually heard the phrase “gender tolerance” spoken more than once while at University. Because those in the aforementioned fields are typically of a one-sided, fanatical ambition – namely to strip the individual of the thought processes which makes one individual – journalists and educators co-opt words for their own purposes and reshape them to suit their own will and agenda. Incorrectly using the word “tolerance” to be a synonym for “accepta

Welcome back to another fun-filled hour of “Are You Fucking Kidding Me?!” - the game show that makes you want to sell all your worldly possessions, hop on a plane to Rarotonga and spend the rest of your life cultivating taro with the locals in utter silent reflection that America is completely and unconditionally lost. Here’s how it works, sports fans. First, read this article from the NY Daily News. Ok? Done? Great. Now, count the statements which made you want nothing more than to claw your own eyes out with rusty, pitted gynecological tools. Did you get six? No? Well then, you’re either an ultra-liberal, bleeding heart or a complete and utter moron. Sorry, you lose; get back there in the pits with the rest of the blind, mindless automatons. For those of you playing the home version of the game, here’s the correct answers: 1) The Federal Government, you know, the group to which you pay upwards of 30% of your salary every year, is giving half a million dollars to the MTA,

In my neverending quest to make myself miserable, I decided this past Saturday to go shopping. I’m not a consumer whore, and don’t need every latest bleeping gadget; in fact, I wasn’t even looking to purchase anything for myself. The DVD player we use at school was broken (yes, we have ONE fucking DVD player. The NYC Board of Ed spent more money last year on photocopies than on supplying the teachers. But that’s a story for another day), and I wanted to pick up an inexpensive machine. Plus, I needed a copy of the movie Lord of the Flies as we had just finished reading the novel in class, and what better way to kill two hours than with a little cinema. Lastly, I figured I’d get a set of headphones for my bass amplifier to redirect the slap, pop, thump my neighbors have been hearing for the past two weeks. Don’t say I’m not a considerate guy. As I have mentioned before , I consider myself to be a rather efficient shopper: I know what I want, speed myself directly to the store most like

So as I was getting ready for work this morning, I had the television on in the background, as I am wont to do. Usually, I just try to get a few soundbites of news, weather, traffic, that sort of thing -- arming myself with snippets of knowledge before heading out into the world. This morning, while lacing up my footwear (triple-ply leather, steel-toed, Croatian army surplus tanker boots. I work in the Bronx; form follows function), I managed to catch something that made me want to crawl right back into bed and pull the covers over my head. Toyota has some new gadget they’re trying to push in their line of cars that are apparently named after children from the inner city (Yaris, Corolla, Tercel, etc) – just another useless toy that can only serve to further distract a driver who already is swerving into my lane so he can call friends on his flashy cell phone and tell them all about his new iPod dash charger / coffee warmer / anal vibrator. Toyota’s particular gizmo apparently offers bo

It is never too late to begin rebuilding, Though all into ruins your life seems hurled; For see! how the light of the New Year is gilding The wan, worn face of the bruised old world . ---Ella Wheeler Wilcox Modo liceat vivere, est spes... ---Cicero