He's Watching You










By now, every New Yorker has seen this ad. It's all over the subways. Now, I'm all for organ donating. Let me be the first to say, when I die, ladies and gentlemen, you may grab at every last morsel and sinew off my cold, dead body. Please, dig in. But would I really want my face plastered all over the city alongside an advertisement that tells exactly which parts of my body were extracted? I don't know. Ask me when I die. But there's a bigger question: who has Jerry Orbach's eyes? Does the person who has his eyes know? Did the surgeon who put them in tell the recipient to be extra careful because he was getting a celebrity's eyes? I thought this whole business was anonymous. I thought that organs were taken, put in a little anonymous bin, and doled out accordingly. Like I said, my body is an open buffet once I die, but it would be terrible if you, dear reader, had to read on a subway advertisement one day: "That guy who was always vindicated gave his heart and soul to being vindicated, but the greatest gift he gave was that of his hearty ball sac to one lucky New Yorker." I'd much rather just be vindicated.

Rats Found in NYC Fast Food Restaurant

By now, you must have heard about the horde of rats that overtook a KFC-Taco Bell in New York City's Greenwich Village the other day. Is anyone really surprised? For most New Yorkers dealing with rats is just another part of daily existence. They're all over the subway stations, and late at night, you can't walk down a quiet street without seeing a rat scurry away. Rats are just as big a part of New York City as the Empire State Building and halal food. If you live there, you deal with rats. They come in all sizes, and they're no less sanitary than pigeons. And they won't crap on your head. Did you know that a rat's tongue is actually cleaner than your own? It's true because I read that in a book somewhere. That said, who the hell still eats at KFC-Taco Bell anyway? I stopped eating there right after puberty. When I was 14 and needed to shove as much shit into my stomach as possible, you could shove a bag full of uncooked lentils in front of me, and I'd scarf it down. But we're adults now. We know these fast food machines will kill us. Would you be surprised to find a horde of rats running around a dog food cannery or even a glue factory? (Rats will eat glue, you know.) I didn't think so. Don't be so shocked. I say, let them have the colonel and all his tacos. If we're running late and need a quick bite on the run, we'll just go to where the food is pumped full of so many chemicals that even rats won't touch it. Like McDonald's. Vindicated.

This Is the Last Time I'll Ever Step Foot in Your House


By now, it's gotten to the point where I can't even look at you anymore. For the love of God, what have you become? You think this is funny? There are people starving in Brooklyn, and you go out and accessorize your toilet paper roll. How many more slots is your iPod going to fill? I'm stunned, truly stunned. It was fine when you bought a TiVo for every single TV in your house, even the ones in your kids' rooms. Excessive, sure, but you work hard, you deserve it. And that new Bose stereo system you had installed, with speakers in every room in the house - this on top of the intercom system that serves the same effect but has a slightly worse sound quality. I thought, "Okay, guy likes music." But you only listen to talk radio, Gary! You put on the same Super Tramp album at every Goddamn party. I'm so sick of it. And now you pull this. Look, I'm going to give it to you straight: I expected to be invited to vacation at you beach house more than once. You asked me that first year, but I had that job interview in Milan. And then you never asked again. I thought it would become a regular thing, but it hasn't. And now this. I feel like a whore. Don't ever talk to me again. Vindicated.

Hey Ladies, Mr. Lotto Is Here: Scratch On!

By now, your dad must have warmed up to your boyfriend. Oh, he hasn't? You guys broke up? Well, shoot. Hey, you want me to set you up with someone? Let me tell you about an old friend of mine. Stephen Allensworth has been writing about the lottery since 1983, and is one of the few recognized experts on lottery. During all this time, he has strictly maintained his independence and tried to be objective about all lottery matters, and he has never worked for a lottery or a lottery vendor. "I consider myself a player advocate, not a lottery advocate," he says. "I try to report fairly on all lottery games, and give you the good and bad." He currently writes a weekly column for the New York Daily News. He is also the publisher of New York's "Lotto News" and "3&4 Digit Lotto Stats." Both of these biweekly publications are sold at most lottery agents.
You must be thinking: why does this guy need a friend to set him up on a date? And I honestly don't have a very good answer for you. I figure, here's a harmless-looking guy; he's got a passion for numbers, and he's got a soft, smooth scalp, plus the knowledge that could win you millions! This guy shouldn't be able to walk into a 7-Eleven without at least a couple of hunnies removing their bras. I asked him recently why he couldn't get a date when other rich guys with beards find dates all the time. He told me that he's not actually rich. He's never even won a single mega-million. He's never been interested in "winning" the lottery; he just loves making other people believe they can. And apparently, if you want to compare lottery experts to other number-crunching professionals such as accounts or bankers, even bookies, lottery experts are actually the lowest rung of that totem pole. You see, I-bankers are to lottery experts what doctors are to the guys who take out the hazardous waste materials and steal syringes to sell to drug addicts. I was shocked. Well, ladies, let me tell you, if you want a nice man who loves numbers and loves picking them at random and also writing about it, but a man who is also gentle enough to not use his awesome powers for material gain, then please contact my friend right now. Isn't it about time Mr. Lotto got lucky? Vindicated.

Pigs on Parade All Year Long, or 農曆新年

By now, everyone knows that the Chinese have a strange custom of only eating one type of animal for an entire year. In 2005 they only ate roosters; last year they only ate dogs; and this year they're only going to eat pigs. It's a peculiar custom, indeed, but for most of my life I hocked it up as just another crazy tradition dating back to the Xia Dynasty that I'll never understand. I knew the myth, of course, and hence, the cause for parades and picnics and a vast reshuffling of the largest population on earth as they visit every last nut and peony on their family tree. But what's with the animals? The myth goes: Once upon an ancient time, a man-eating mountain beast (年) preyed on the tiny Chinese people. He had the ability to silently infiltrate their houses and devour them at night, no matter how tightly they bound the bamboo poles of their huts together. This guy was like five Draculas in one. Long story short, the villagers eventually discovered not only how to beat him, but also that his Kryptonite was two-fold. This blood-thirsty mountaineer could be defeated by two things and two things only: loud noises and the color red. Loud noises and the color red. A horrible monster who could only be defeated by loud noises (the screams of his victims?) and the color red (their gushing blood?). Common sense aside, the villagers began to shoot off fireworks and wear a lot of red, and this little story - lacking even a child's logic - is the root of the New Year's celebrations that continue to this day. But why just one animal for every year? For this answer I went to Dr. Wong Park-Woo at Cal-Tech. He was only able to speak to me in passing, but he told me that Chinese people don't actually only eat one animal per year as you, dear reader, had thought, but instead each year is represented by an animal that stands for different things. The pig, for instance, stands for virility and fertility, and happiness and honesty, and this year's menu is not exclusive to pig , but he who eats the most pig this year will be the most virile and happy, and thus, more able to defend his village from the blood-thirsty yet color-phobic mountain beast. Vindicated.