ANOTHER REASON TO LOVE NEW YORK

The man in the photo above is Carlos Flores of East Harlem. Yesterday, he jumped onto the subway tracks at a busy 103rd street station to rescue a man who had a seizure and fell off the platform. When asked about saving a man from being crushed to death by the 6 train, he did not babble on about being a good-hearted person. He did not offer up some bullshit about caring for his fellow man. No. According to the New York Daily News he said,

"I was thinking, if he gets hit I can't go to work. It's Sunday. I can't miss out. It's a time-and-a-half day."

Here's to you, Carlos Flores!
You're my kind of hero.

CRUEL CHARITY: A TOYS FOR TOTS HORROR STORY

It's the first official day of the holiday shopping season, so you'll start seeing lots of "Toys For Tots" donation boxes in various places: your office, your gym...and Rupert Murdoch's News Corp Building on 6th avenue. But remember: donate wisely.

Now, the above photo is from about three years ago. I snapped it around this time of year at the News Corp lobby, while waiting for a friend who works at Fox News Channel. Bored and looking for amusement, I peered into the "Toys For Tots" donation area. I was shocked at what I found. As you can see, nestled among the board games, stuffed animals and other treats was a “Talking George W. Bush Doll”. (Click photo to enlarge.) Not only does this doll spout several of Dubya’s catch phrases, but he also comes complete with “Presidential boots”. What more could a needy child want?

I stood there in awe, deciding that only one of three possibilities could explain this situation:

A) Despite Fox News rhetoric, some News Corp employee is waging their personal “War on Christmas”.

B) Some News Corp employee truly hates children, and is grinning like the Grinch at the thought of a soon-to-be disillusioned child who asked Santa for a Barbie but instead finds a talking George W. Bush doll under the tree.

C) Some News Corp employee misread the sign for “Toys for Tots” and thought it said, “Depository for Useless Gag Gifts”

Welcome to the holidays!

SAVE FREDERICA WILSON'S HAT COLLECTION!

This is a call to arms!
Due to some arcane, Daconian rule dating back to the 1800s, newly elected Florida representative Frederica Wilson will have to forsake her glorious hat collection while on the House floor!

This fashionable lawmaker has over 300 hats. In fact, she has a room in her house devoted to them. If these hats are all as sublime as the one pictured here, how can we the American people be deprived of seeing them? Imagine how much more stimulating CSPAN would be with Frederica Wilson's colorful hats; festooned with rhinestones, feathers and sequins. I know I'd be proud to obey any laws passed while Frederica Wilson was wearing one of her divine hats.

Sure, Ms. Wilson will be pressing House Speaker John Boehner to overturn this cruel rule. But we can't afford to sit back and do nothing.

Fellow Americans, stand tall. Write your local Congressman. Demand the right to enjoy Frederica Wilson's hat collection!

THE LAST CELL PHONE HOLD OUT

The last cell phone hold out.
That's me.
Yeah, you heard me. I don't have a cell phone.
I ain't lyin'!
People think I'm completely insane. And, they're right. I'm a loon.
But the reactions I get when I reveal this shocking bit of info are pretty funny. I might as well follow it up by explaining that I get to work each day in a covered wagon.

It's just that I don't want to be so...available. I don't want people thinking they can reach me whenever they want.
While you probably can't imagine not being able to negotiate a night out or call your pals at any given moment, I can't imagine being tethered to a phone. The very notion sends a chill down my spine.

Plus, I like chance encounters. Cell phones tend to ensure more certainty. Happenstance is hard to come by these days, when you know exactly where someone is going to be at any given moment.
Think about it: If Romeo and Juliet had cell phones, nobody would have died.

(Huh. That doesn't really illustrate my point too well, does it? In fact, that could be an ad campaign, now that I think about it. Famous fictional tragedies that could have been avoided with cell phones. Nokia, are you listening?)

But of course I have a landline. And check this out--
With a little help from Pottery Barn, I made a replica of Salvador Dali's Lobster Phone:


And here's the original Dali Lobster phone, created in 1936:


And here's my dad eating lobster in Honolulu, circa 1977:

Yeah, I know.
Not the most coherent post.
But if you came to Peon Confidential for clarity, you're in the wrong place.
The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be...

THE OFFICIAL MAMA D'S ARTS BORDELLO CREED

Behold, the definitive Mama D's Arts Bordello Creed.

I'm laying this creed down...
For anyone who hasn't been to a Mama D's show.
For anyone who has and didn't know what the fuck was going on.
For anyone who wants to ride this artistic revolution with me.

Inside the Arts Bordello and beyond, we hold these tenets to be true.

We believe in the power of gorgeous words and elegant prose.
We believe in savvy bitches and bold motherfuckers.
We believe in the glory of music, film, sexual freedom and dance.
We believe in effortless charm and calculated risks, high quality pens and cheap booze, hustlers, raw talent and rare intelligence, rock n' roll rebellion, painters, sculptors and plumbers.

We believe in God. All Gods. Whichever God you pray to can be found in the Arts Bordello. We believe in the sanctity of the sinner. We believe that the creation of art is a form of prayer.

We believe in the art of selling art; making a profit from your talent is no crime. We do not believe in the false nobility of starving for your art. Without commerce, art has no audience. And art without an audience is just masturbation. We'd rather fuck with an audience than masturbate.

We do not believe in franchise. There is only one Mama D's Arts Bordello. We are a New York institution for the disenfranchised. If you are awkward, strange, weird or broken-welcome to the Arts Bordello. We will find something to love about you.

If you want therapy, call your psychiatrist.
If you want artistic salvation, come to Mama D's Arts Bordello.

THE TUBEROUS BUSHCRICKET HAS SERIOUS COJONES

Fellow Peons, I was not prepared for this news. No, I never thought I'd be penning an ode to the Tuberous Bushcricket. Yet here I am, clacking away. You see, according to the AFP, this little species of bushcricket has the biggest balls of any creature in the whole world!

Now, some of you out there might be thinking, "No fucking way, man. My goolies are way bigger than that little fucker's nutsack."

But you'd be wrong. Dead wrong. Because this Testicle Titan drags around a set of stones that are 13.8 percent of his body mass. That's like your sorry cock nestled in between two tires weighing 22 pounds each.

So today when you're stuck in traffic or an elevator in which Ned from Accounting just unleashed a toxic fart, remember the Tuberous Bushcricket, and realize your troubles are very small in comparison.

ROCK N' ROLL SALVATION: DEBBIE HARRY'S SNEER

I've decided that the next Mama D's Arts Bordello theme is: "Rock n' Roll Salvation".

Description? A lyric from David Bowie, "Until there was rock you only had God."

Thus, today we pay our respects to rock n' roll goddess Debbie Harry.

I have always loved this woman, from the minute I knew what rock n' roll was.
Her icy beauty; frozen between a slap and a kiss is legendary.
Her incredibly marketable voice; sometimes bitchy, sometimes cooing was the bridge between punk and new wave.

And more than anything-that mouth. That gorgeous sneer that says come worship me...but not too close.
It says fuck you if you don't take me seriously.
It says I am an icon, whether you like it or not.

Let's give it up for trailblazer Debbie Harry.
Her glorious mix of punk credo and Hollywood glamour; all wrapped up in a bleached blonde cartoon will never be topped:

BLONDIE: DETROIT 442

P.S. Kudos to Mama D's cohort Mike Ser for putting together the cool split screen for this post.

PREPARE FOR A NEW TREND ABOUT TO SWEEP THE NATION

Get ready fellow Peons!
I'm letting you in on a glorious new fashion accessory...waaaay before anyone else knows about it.

Check it:
It's the one-of-a kind Bun Hole Hat!
Designed by yours truly and knitted by a good pal of mine in Brooklyn, this hat is a delight.
With the Bun Hole Hat, you don't have to choose between wearing your hair in a bun or wearing a hat. No sir! There's a built in hole for your bun. Just pull your hair through, adjust the hat and you're one hot tamale; ready to take on the world!

You'll be the belle of the ball, the cock of the walk, the coolest bitch in town.

That's right ladies and gentlemen--prepare for the conquest of Bun Hole Hat!
Soon to be seen on the heads of stylish motherfuckers everywhere...