Todd Levin

A conversation I just had at the elevator bank in my office building:

MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN
Is it Friday yet?

ME
No.

I am a very big fan of my nephews, Oliver and Avery. Because they are only 6 and 4 years old, respectively, I must confess that they fail me in certain ways—e.g. giving me a lift home from the airport, lending money, selecting wine—but, overall, I do like them. More importantly, I really, desperately want them to like me.

I’m not sure why I crave the approval of a couple of toddlers, but why should they be different than anyone else? The only problem is, we don’t have much in common. Sure, we think the same things are funny (farts) but outside of that I am pretty out of touch with their culture. I always find myself making very obvious and shallow attempts to relate, by awkwardly discussing the same two or three subjects. I talk to them about music, about video games, and about their sneakers. Then, when I’ve run out of things to say about any of those subjects, and the silence between has grown deafeningly uncomfortable, I hold up my hand and yell, “OK! High-FIVE!” That’s pretty much how it goes at every visit.

In thinking about this, it has finally occurred to me that the self-consciousness and desperate need for validation with which I relate to my nephews is nearly identical to the way most white people act around black guys for the first time. And there’s not a lot of love flowing both ways there, either.

Tonight, How to Kick People will function as book release party for Bob Powers’ Happy Cruelty Day!

Happy Cruelty Day! Book Party
Thursday, January 25th, at 7:30pm
Mo Pitkin’s House of Satisfaction

The show will feature readings from the book, giveaways, trivia contests, songs, the ceremonial lighting of the Happy Cruelty tree, and performances from some old H2KP friends, including:

Mike Albo – author of The Underminer
Chris Regan – Emmy Award-winning former writer for The Daily Show, and creator of Mythstory
Dan Kennedy – author of Loser Goes First
Andres du Bouchet – comedian and former host of Giant Tuesday Night
Amanda Melson – comedian and writer for Comedy Central’s Stand-Up Nation with Greg Giraldo

The show is also FREE, which is nice. And if you can’t make it, or get squished out, there will also be drinks and signing immediately following, at 9pm.

For more details, visit www.howtokickpeople.com

to Eddie Murphy on his “Best Supporting Actor” Oscar® Nomination:

Sometimes things are funnier when they’ve been decontextualized. Just saying, is all.

The New York City transit system is loaded with advertisements promoting season 2 of the Food Network show, Ace of Cakes, which follows the everyday foibles of kick-ass, no-holds-barred pastry chef, Duff Goldman.

I realize it’s pretty difficult to simultaneously communicate “bad ass motherfucker” and “bald guy who bakes special occasion cakes shaped like stuff that isn’t cake.” That made it so much more refreshing to discover that the creative team responsible for creating the ads rose to the challenge and decided the best way to telegraph Duff Goldman’s cool factor was through the liberal use of the blackletter “Motorhead” typeface, and dressing Duff Goldman in a leather jacket and sunglasses. Cool people wear sunglasses ALL! THE! TIME!

If I worked for Duff Goldman and saw him walking around the bakery in sunglasses I suppose I’d have the same impulse I have whenever I see any sighted person wearing sunglasses indoors. I would want to walk up to him and, with a voice dripping with earnest concern, say, “Hey, I think you forgot to take your sunglasses off.” This always seemed like a good approach to me—much preferable to saying, “excuse me, sir, but I think you forgot to stop acting like a complete nutsack”—because 99% of the time that person will pretend that, yes, he did forget to take off his sunglasses and then remove them, even if it does crush his heart just a little bit. The other 1% will get angry and threaten me with violence-by-fist-and-foot, which—let’s face it—is totally cool.

I haven’t seen ACE OF CAKES yet, but I think I can pretty much sum up its charm this way. You see, most pastry chefs are all, “La la la. I like marzipan, and I can make a cake shaped like a circle or a rectangle or some shit because I’m a FAIRY.” But Duff Goldman (definitely his real name) is like, “Whatever, dude. You want a cake shaped like one of our show’s corporate sponsors? No probs. Let’s LIGHT IT UP MOTHERFUCK!!” And that’s just what Duff Goldman does. He drives his motorcycle right up on the pastry workspace and revs his engine to mix the batter. Then he cakes it up hard and drives off to do some cool shit like drink an American beer or do a graffiti or maybe get a tattoo of a pastry tube squirting blood or some shit, you know? And then at the end, when he’s all finished, instead of being like most pastry chefs and acting all, “well, I think we have outdone ourselves with this confection!” Duff is just like, “BOO-YA! LET’S ROLL 9/11!!!” And then he delivers the cake to Shaquille O’Neal in his motorcycle sidecar and Shaq eats the whole cake in one bite and is psyched! Cut to: Duff celebrating his latest cake by doing a guitar solo with his blues-funk band, The Master Bakers, while his employees are forced to watch and smile and stuff when they’d rather go home and play Nintendo. The end.

Today, at The Morning News, I have commandeered the “Non-Expert” Q&A column, where I help the helpless select fancy wines like a total fucking pro. Maybe the article will help you, too.

On exiting the coffee shop today, balancing my backpack, gym bag, headphones, and a small, steamy latte, I sort of knew something was going to bail. My body couldn’t handle all that cargo. Sure enough, my latte tumbled right out of my hands, performing a dramatic 720+Kickflip+Shove-it+Benihana+Nosebone+McTwist before a spectacular wipeout against the inside of the café’s front door. Another patron was about to enter the café and got to witness the entire flameout behind the safety of glass. I watched him watching it, which was an interesting out-of-body experience and judging by the expression on his face my latte accident was the most awesome thing he’s ever seen. And it probably was.

I haven’t had a head-turning spill like that in a long time and it was sort of nice to discover that the particular sadness it made me feel was really a really familiar constant in my life. It felt exactly like being a child, standing outdoors, and watching a helium balloon slip out of my hands. Shock, then longing, then loneliness. Then a little bit horny.

If you missed the premiere of VH-1′s “I Love New York,” a spin-off of VH-1′s “Flava of Love,” this is what it sounded like when New York finally gathered her gentleman callers around and announced which of them would be staying for the next episode, and which ones would be sent home in a cloud of Arctic Jizz Blast Axe Body Spray and disappointment.

NEW YORK:
“There are 20 of y’all, but only 15 of you are good enough for New York. Now, I have consulted with my crazy-ass mother and my flamboyantly gay Puerto Rican manservant, Chamo, and I’m prepared to make my picks. The following men will stay: Romance, T-Bone, Partytime, Whiteboy, Moneybags, Harvard, Dead Leg, Jingle Bells, Ms. Pac-Man, Beard of Bees, Cold Sore, Stomach On The Outside, Razzmataz, Dr. Dracula, and The People’s Republic of Pantystank. You all have much love for New York, and we can marinate together a little longer.

“And I’m going to have to say goodbye to the rest of you: Asian Ray Romano, French Onion Dip, Sir Chomps-a-Lot, Involuntary Rectal Exam, and Cancerdick. Seeya, and wouldn’t want to be ya.”

Headline: WOULD-BE NY SUBWAY BOMBER GETS 30 YEARS

	“Such stunning beauty. Wow. Truly stunning.”
	“HEY BABY HOW AOBUT A SMILE LOL!!!”
	“You have been found guilty of giving me a pants-tent, and I’m sentencing you to 30 years of maximum security…in my arms. Holla back.”