Today's Scientific Discovery

       I know it's true because Science told me so

Caps (not) For Sale

Through what I can only imagine was a mistake in the paper-work of the cosmos, I recently convinced a reputable outlet of information to let me write for them. That's right: I'm a staff blogger for Inside New York. As far as it stacks up against other jobs I have had, I can't complain; the pay is ok (nothing), but the perks are high (invitations to events I would never be allowed in otherwise, like free concerts) and the office space is pretty good as well (I get to write from home). But really, it's a good step for me. Last week, they gave me my first assignment - I went downtown to check out an event called New Era Introducing. It turned out that the cosmos had caught up with me, and knew what I was up to. The subway car I took downtown was plastered with ads for the very same New Era hat company.

A hat for people who identify as under-performers with an identity crisis

I had a great time at the event, so thanks to everyone who helped set it up and run it. Here's the review (actual post here)!

“New Era is all about self-expression,” Ben Ewy, the creative director of New Era explained to me.  If you want proof, head to 82 Mercer Street, where New Era is hosting New Era Introducing, showcasing the work of dozens of artists who used New Era’s 59Fifty cap as a canvass. When I arrived at 8:45 Friday night, the spacious venue was comfortably packed with a cool crowd checking out the craziest caps I have ever seen. There was a lively beat from the DJ, and people were wandering around the gallery, helping themselves to tasty hors d’oeuvres  and the open bar (watch out for the New York Mule, a dangerous cocktail that involves vodka, ginger beer and magic, as far as I could tell).

This is the second annual New Era Introducing contest. The artist of the winning cap is awarded $10,000. Marconi Calindas took the honors this year for his cap “A Little Too Late.” An identified LGBT artist from San Francisco, Calindas was inspired by the recent tragedy of Eric James Borges when he came up with the idea for the cap. Don’t let the bright colors fool you – the hat tells a tragic narrative of a victim of bullying driven to suicide. He will be using the prize money to publish a book on the same theme.

Marconi Calindas (left) and "A Little too Late" (right)

I got a chance to speak with Evan Jones, CMO of New Era about New Era Introducing. He loved the and wide range of ideas that had come in, and was obviously enjoying the great vibe at the event. Sporting a plain white New Era cap, he told me, “When you go out, the last thing you put on is your cap. That’s what New Era is all about – finding a way to express yourself, and that’s what these artists have done.”

It’s doubtful that any of these hats will ever get make it onto anyone’s head. I asked around a bunch, and while there were some obvious favorites, there were few people who would think of wearing the pieces of art. I asked fellow hat-appreciator Reggie (sporting an all-black New Era Yankees cap) if he would ever wear one, and he just said, “Nah, man, these hats aren’t for wearing. I’d keep them in my collection.”

 Here are a couple of favorites from the night.

This cap was caught off- I mean made in Bellingham, Washington

This will happen to your cap if you leave it out for too long.

If you travel 88mph while wearing this cap, you travel to a time when people only wore fedoras

This one fell off a pagan god's head

One of the more popular hats, and a favorite of the crowd

I'm pretty sure I saw this guy in an episode of Samurai Jack

Adventures in Dentistry

I had a relatively large adventure (by my standards) last weekend. It all started Sunday after breakfast. I was  generally expressing my satisfaction concerning the existence of bacon and running my tongue over the inside of my mouth, and then I stopped both activities. My tongue had found a large bump on the inside of my lower mouth underneath my teeth. It wasn't a bump I recognized, so I went to a mirror and examined it. My tongue had told the truth - there in my mouth was a large bump that I was previously unaware of.  I won't gross you out with the details (if I haven't already), but it looked unnatural and out of place.

I immediately took the best course of action. Namely, self diagnosing. Two things went through my head.

1) Oh my God, it's gum cancer. A large, painless lump. It has to be. I knew I shouldn't have smoked all* those cigars** during my lifetime! What if I lose all my teeth and have to eat applesauce for the rest of my life? How will I chew on ice cubes ever again?
*like, five.
**well, cigarillos, actually

and...

2) It's an alien. Or a bug. Or an alien bug. Where could it have come from? It must've been all that swimming in lakes out west. It has a bony feel, just like how I always imagined the exoskeleton of an advanced, sentient, parasitic alien bug would feel. I wonder how long I have to think independent thoughts? What if it's already been controlling me this whole time?

So first thing Monday morning, I went to a Doctor to ask some questions. After looking into my mouth, he told me it everything looked fine, but that if I really wanted to get it checked out, I should go to a dentist. This didn't make me feel any more at ease. By this point, I had narrowed my two initial diagnoses down to just one. I eliminated gum cancer, because the Doctor would have recognized that. Also, the fact that everything looked fine seemed to be more evidence that it was an alien bug, because naturally it was in the invader's interest to keep me (the host) healthy as long as possible so it could do whatever it wanted with me.

Despite my reluctance*, I made an appointment with my dentist (whom I normally avoid despite his office's harassing phone calls asking me to confirm appointments I never made) for that morning, and went down to see him.
*which I attributed partially to the alien bug wanting me to avoid the dentist, and partially to my fear of being stabbed in the mouth repeatedly

Sitting nervously in the torture chair, I informed him that there was a terrifying bump (I wasn't calling it an alien bug yet - I wanted him to reach that conclusion for himself) in my mouth, so they took an x-ray. The dentist came back into the room and asked me where the bump was exactly. "This is it," I thought to myself, "he's going to tell me that its fibrous tentacles have worked their way up my jaw and are almost in my brain." I opened my mouth and pointed.

"That?" he asked? "That's normal bone growth, it happens in about 40% of people. You probably had that the last time you came in, it's nothing to worry about. But as long as you're here, why don't we give your teeth a cleaning." And so he sent in his apprentice torturer* who stabbed me in the mouth with sharp objects for the next half hour.
*I'm pretty sure this was her official title

All in all, I have to say, I didn't leave the dentist feeling much better, despite my squeaky clean teeth and the free toothbrush he gave me to make me feel better about having been stabbed in the mouth. I think the reason is I'm not sure I trust him. I still think it's an alien. And I think my dentist has one, too. If it's already taken over his mind, of course he would try to comfort me and tell me it's nothing...

So please, if anyone has had a similar experience and had the alien bug removed, or knows someone who has been completely taken over already, let me know. I want to know what to expect.

The Wit of the Hunt

One of the differences I noticed between the West and New York is that in the west, people really like taking pictures of themselves with dead animals. In particular, with an animal that is dead because the person in the picture killed it. I saw a lot of those photographs in restaurants or rest stops (Restaurants in New York prefer to take pictures of their food, or perhaps of the owner with celebrities they are about to kill with their food, but rarely dead animals). Unless there's only one deer that has modular antlers that everyone passes around and makes slight modifications to for their trophy picture, there's a lot of hunting that goes on out west. I won't judge the hunting; I'm not for it, but I understand some people enjoy it, some people need to do it, and some people can turn live animals into jerky, which is a good thing for everybody but the animal. So, don't worry, people who take pictures of themselves with recently dead animals, I'm not judging you.

What does bother me is when people refer to hunting as matching wits with an animal. I'll judge those people. There's a lot that's wrong with saying that. To begin with, animals don't have a great sense of humor and won't appreciate witty jokes, but most people who attempt to match wits with animals are trying to accomplish their goal by shooting the animal, which no animal finds amusing regardless of whether or not it has a sense of humor.

More importantly, if you really want to match wits with an animal, you need to do something that gives the animal a level playing field. I could suggest a few games. For instance, you could stand by a river next to a bear and try swatting fish out of mid-air. Whoever gets more fish wins (I would also suggest losing, because bears are notorious sore losers). Alternatively, you could hang out with an elk until one of you gets eaten by a wolf (the winner being the one who does not get torn to pieces). Or, you could play Uno with a mountain lion. Whatever you want.

However, hiding behind camouflage structures and shooting at an animal from a half a mile away does not constitute a level playing field. If I hid behind a friend's furniture (being sure to stay downwind of the fan so as not to alert him of my presence by my scent) while he was out and then shot him as he walked into the room, I doubt he would refer to that as "matching wits" with him. "Haha! You jokester you, you out-witted me!" would probably be the last thing I would expect him to say.

So please, in the future, be honest with yourself. You're not matching wits with an animal just because you're hunting it. If you're looking for ways to describe your relationship with the animal, how about stalking? Sure. Spraying bullets at? Ok. Ambushing! All acceptable way to phrase your activity.

And whatever you do, don't get me started on people who feel the need to match wits with fish.

Conversations with the TSA

While my absence in the blogosphere has become a less than startling event, my most recent disappearance has to do with a trip I took for the past three weeks through the Northwest/west. Perhaps some details will follow, perhaps not. Still,  I would like to share the last conversation I had out west.

I ended up in a security line at the airport manned by an underemployed TSA agent with a mission to amuse himself. As every person in the line went up to him, he examined their name, and wondered out loud which of their names they went by. Some were fairly straightforwards, but I could see he was confused when he looked at the boarding pass of a man with three first names, and disappointed when one of the girls on line lacked a middle name (where's the mystery in that?)This whole time, I expected I would breeze through without question or conversation, but that was not the case.

He looked at my pass, and without skipping a beat, said, "Oh man, if I had your name, I would change that H to a C."

"Huh?" I asked, surprised that he had something to discuss about my name.

"Yeah, you could be Brendan Cannon."

Tempting. I thanked him for his input then walked on. I don't think I will change my own name, but upon further reflection, I realized that should I, by some slip up in the galactic paperwork, become a parent, I would like to name my child (regardless of gender) Cannon, so he or she could be "Cannon Hannon." Should I also have a spouse through a similar clerical error, I hope she approves.

Instruction Manual for Bad Decision Making

Unless you're OK not having all of your fingers if you wake up. 

Proper Wishing Protocol

A lot of people say that if they could have one wish from a genie, they'd wish for a bunch of money. That's stupid though. 

If I had one wish from a genie, I'd wish for a lot of money (maybe two million dollars) and an accompanying W-2, because what good is money if you're in prison for tax fraud? No one would believe that you got all that money from a genie! 

Nope, can't fool this guy...