It's Beautiful

Birds chirp and squirrels rummage through garbage but more importantly, people are having sexual intercourse. Everywhere!

In homes, cheap hotels, and abandoned vehicles, as well as in the park and in the alleyway by my front door.

I love warm weather. And all of this makes me extremely happy-that my alley is “a safe place” where two people can come together in the physical manifestation of what is, no doubt, a meaningful relationship. My alleyway is the perfect, tucked away locale for such a sublime outdoor experience on a peaceful summer's eve. It also makes me happy that these people are, apparently, using protection. My alley is littered with condoms and condom wrappers. Mostly Lifestyles.

This knowledge, a negligible PGW bill, and the opportunity to wear shorts, all make me happy. I realize how much I love Philadelphia and the fact that I live in such a loving community, even if the unions at my front door are often between two males and usually anal in nature.

It makes me “less happy” that, more often than not, one of the people having sex in my alley is a crack whore. Making me unhappier still, is the pile of human shit left on my sidewalk in the morning.

But I don’t complain. It’s beautiful outside.

Hey!

You and I don't get along that well.

In fact, I have trouble looking at you out of fear that I might be tempted to relate to you or otherwise engage in your world of deception, evil and catty bullshit. On occasion I have forced myself to make small talk with you-out of some silly, self-imposed obligation to seem professional. These conversations were extremely difficult for a number of reasons, the most significant of which is the fact that you probably you don’t understand anything about me.

And I why should I expect you to understand me?
You suck and I do not; therefore, we have nothing in common.

For your clarification, here are a few important things about me that may aid you in understanding where I stand in relation to you. Use them as a roadmap; not for further conversation, but rather, to help you to not suck so much.

-I can, and sometimes do, read.

-That sound that follows me wherever I go: It’s the sound of most other people laughing at the joke that you don’t think is funny.

-I don’t know anything about horse racing.

-My laughter is sincere. My smile is not.

- Its okay for me to make fun of myself. It is not okay for you to make fun of me.

-The only time I ever went to a country club, I was wearing a tux and handing out meat cubes.

-I believe in the value of the work I do- even if I get paid in jellybeans and have to wear a foam octopus on my head.

On a positive note, I want to thank you for sucking so deeply and truly. Your fervent sucking underscores how awesome I am in comparison and makes the boring, yet inoffensive individuals in my life seem that much more agreeable.

Best,

Olga

Rocky

The August 3rd Inquirer article concerning the relocation of Rocky to art museum steps suggested that the Art Commission was staunchly opposed to the idea of moving the statue so close to the art museum for a number of reasons. Penny Balkin Bach, director of the Fairmount Park Art Association was quoted saying, "There's not a public swell to have it there" and local artist, Moe Brooker, even indicated that the Rocky statue isn't art.

Nevertheless, the interest in the debate, on the streets, in print and online reflects that the public is paying attention. So far, Philadelphians are in overwhemlingly in favor of moving the statue to the museum, regardless of bluenose critics who point to a deficit in the artistic integrity of the whole affair.

To argue as to whether or not Rocky is art, is to delve back into the outdated postulations from early 20 th Century art criticism. Ironically, Duchamp's "Fountain," a porcelain urinal signed "R.Mutt" sits in a gallery just on the other side of the art museum walls as a testament to how the opinions of art critics are less than enduring.

Rocky, whether we like it or not, is an icon from popular urban mythology in Philadelphia . If the she-wolf and her cubs deserve a place in Rome, Rocky deserves a place close to this city's heart. It's from a movie. But I'd point out that Philadelphia is still a young city compared to its European counterparts. Hence, our urban myths and heritage are derived from stories ingrained in the consciousness of the 21st Century public audience, stories from popular culture, from various fictional accounts, and even from movies...

The public loves Rocky because he embodies the spirit of the Philadelphia . He is an underdog who made it to the top, or at least to the top of the art museum steps. In the year 2006, Rocky is our Romulus. 100 years from now, when movies are obsolete, maybe those critical members of the arts community will come down from their pedestal of pretension and snobbery to join Rocky and the rest of Philadelphia at the base of the art museum steps. Until then, we can be grateful to live in a city where the public engages in a debate that affects the urban landscape for future generations.

All the Bitches Wanna Get With Me

The Rap Video

4 out of 5 construction workers, men in unhappy marriages and my former therapist agree: I have sex appeal.

In my rap video, I proclaim that “all the bitches wanna get with me” as I am surrounded by a team of muscular and horny backup dancers who nod in sync with the base beat so as to confirm this obvious truth. Men rush to my aid as I approach an intersection, throwing their expensively hand-tailored blazers into rancid street-side puddles to prevent me from soiling my sneakers. My sex appeal means I never open a door for myself, I’ve never spent a dime of my own money and I am never subjected to the smell of raw sewage. As I traverse the subway vent on a beautiful afternoon, a cool breeze blows my white dress up from around my calves and every man in a three mile radius whistles in synchronous melody.

Or not.

Regardless of all the wife-beaters, forty ounces and cheap jewelry in my life, my rap video is suspiciously devoid of bitches.

The rap video, being the definitive indicator of both sex appeal and social health, is a facet of everyday life I take pretty seriously. I don’t allow just any bitch to make an appearance on the back of my Ducati- only to be spotted next week in Lil Kim’s video, licking Courvoisier off her fat toes.

There is a relatively simple formula I recommend using to determine which bitches to be in your rap video. I divide my bitches into two basic camps.

1. Bitches who want to play motorcycles
2. Bitches who do not want to play motorcycles


Bitches who want to play motorcycles will call whether or not you’ve made plans. They will do anything to play motorcycles, including, but not limited to, plowing you with alcohol and making bogus claims to clean your carburetor.

On the other hand, bitches who do not want to play motorcycles can be more difficult to identify. They do not make requests to play motorcycles. They may not notice you, they avoid eye contact and are not prompt to return phone calls. They may even seem blatantly uninterested in motorcycles and red-heads. Bitches who do not want to play motorcycles are basically self-obsessed, narcissistic homosexuals.

Nevertheless, either type of bitch qualifies to at least audidion for the video. I find that bitches who want to play motorcycles are more likely to provide consistent, dependable back-up footage. Meanwhile, those in the latter group, uninterested in playing motorcylces, are probably already cast as lead bitch in someone else’s rap video or are otherwise too busy jerking off in the mirror to be bothered.

More on bitches and rap videos to come...