I am Legend: Driving thru NYC on Xmas

I want to throw a shout out to baby Jesus for creating a holiday in which there’s less traffic than downtown Provo on Fat Tuesday. On Christmas Day, my GF, mutt and I managed to travel from Boston to Richmond in less than 10 hours, including lots of potty stops and snack runs. While driving across the GW bridge from the Bronx in no traffic – and the Big Apple looming in the background - I felt like Will Smith in “I Am Legend” driving on the big screen sans humanity. I even had the dog. If I had a time machine and could to it again, I would have blasted “Gettin' Jiggy with it” to complete the experience.

I’m getting to the point… Upon arriving back in the Fan, we were greeted by street cleaning parking prohibitions for Thursday and Friday….DURING THE BIGGEST TRAVEL WEEK OF THE YEAR. These hadn’t been posted when we left the previous Friday. Congrats to the City of Richmond for taking advantage of VCU students and young professionals who left their car curbside in Richmond while they celebrated the holidays hundreds of miles away, only to come back to no car and a steep towing recovery fine. If Will Smith was mayor, this wouldn’t stand.

“Alex, I’ll take Potpourri for $100.”

When you don’t update your blog for a month, you're lazy. You’re also bound to create a mish mash of scrambled observations and takes so random that reading it’s akin to watching a “Family Guy” montage with a hangover. Here we go...

• Thank god for Harry Hagar…..Richmond hasn’t been in “US Weekly” since someone stole Cher’s wig from backstage at the Landmark Theater back in 2003.
  
• The best thing about the writers’ strike? Jay Leno’s lawn finally gets the attention it deserves. The worst thing? Billy Bush is the freshest thing out there…it’s like only being able to choose a mate from the cast of “Golden Girls.”
  
• Most likely place in the River City to inhale asbestos while watching “Fred Claus?” The West Tower movie theater on West Broad Street, of course!
  
• Best place in Richmond to feel like you’re not in Richmond? The new tapas bar Si in the Fan. It makes Europa look and taste like a South Side Applebee’s.

What about Kucinich?

As faux conservative late show host Stephen Colbert starts to attract some ridiculous poll numbers – I’m not saying this is a bad thing – Democratic candidate Dennis Kucinich is again hanging out at the back of the pack with a measly 1 percent.

Kucinich admits to having seen a UFO. His wife is a F.L.I.L.F. (coined by the “Daily Show”). And when Kucinich was the mayor of Cleveland back in the ‘70s, the local mob put a hit on him. In other words, the guy is F---ING CRAZY.

It seems we had an Electoral College jester in Kucinich before Colbert came around, and one with some political moxy to boot. But straight-shooting, crazy uncle candidates like Kucinich and Mike Gravel somehow can’t lasso the counter culture momentum despite their viral YouTube viral campaign videos and addictive idiosyncrasies a plenty.

The moral? I dunno. If you’re not gonna vote, you might as well vote for one of these daffy bastards. At least they’re fun to watch.

‘Desperate’ Newsmen

Why was this column written in the Richmond Times-Dispatch? Seriously. Why draw attention to this ridiculous situation… (Damn, that’s what I’m doing right now.)

Didn’t the whole Imus affair teach us that no apology is better than a gutless, insincere one. Actually, the radio jock’s nappy-headed rant and this recent, benign poke at Philippine medical schools shouldn’t even be included in the same lame, poorly read blog entry. (Yes, I’m referring to mine.) One line was uttered by a media savvy professional…the other was uttered by the woman who helped 13-year-old boys get through puberty in “The Cool Surface” – Teri Hatcher. (I won’t even mention “The Adventures of Lois and Clark” – damn it, too late.)

Doesn’t Michael Paul Williams have anything else to write about? What about an essay on the recent rash of violence aimed at the River City’s ice cream servers – is there a vanilla connection? Something slamming hockey as racist? Maybe he should be at the Folk Festival counting how many white dudes are dressed up like John Popper from Blues Traveler.

In the meantime, tune in to “Desperate Housewives” next week, when Eva Longoria disparages drag queen brunches by ordering sausage patties, and not links.

That MySpace hooker has her own show?

You know it’s bad when the most accurate description of someone is a “poor woman’s Cindy Margolis.”

But that’s just exactly who MySpace super-skank Tia Tequila is. Actually, the Web 2.0 diva is much less.

Filthy belly button ring? Check. Ambiguous possibly Asian, possibly South American ethnicity? Check. (She’s from Vietnam.) And oh yeah, bad tattoos? You bet.

And she has a dirty little secret for you and her parents….she’s bi-sexual. Oh snap! With men and women vying for her overflowing flirtations and a chance of a possible mention on “Access Hollywood,” anything can happen….anything that involves a third grade vocabulary and whipped cream. Even Brett Michaels is blushing.

There’s nothing better than scripted reality TV starring social networking whores. Who am I kidding? We’ll all watch it on MTV.

The freaks comes out at night (and day) at the State Fair

Sure, the Virginia State Fair boasts music that would be popular at a Wheeling, West Virginia roller rink, pumpkins so big they’d make Charlie Brown cry, and a veritable Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade of southern stereotypes, but that’s all part of its charm.

However, as a journalist, the worst things to cover are annual events in which the only things that change are the fried snack foods de jour and the most popular NASCAR fanny pouch (Hint: it’s not Juan Pablo Montoya). Each year, you find yourself recycling stories and trying to find some way to avoid patronizing on paper whoever groomed the prize-winning sheep.

The best time I had at the fair was back in 2001, when on my third consecutive day of features coverage, I told my editor I was going to do a piece on carney freaks - literal (sort of) freaks, not metaphorical. And just as he said, “You’re doing what?!?!?!” I faked some phone static, hung up and started hunting for the world’s smallest woman.

That day I spent with Myrna the Mermaid, Angel the Snake Girl and Tiny Tasha was an all-timer. Read about it here…

The IRS sent me $37,970.50!? Ooops!

(The following letter is accompanying a voided IRS refund check sent to me in error. Yes, maybe I should have just cashed it and hoped for the best, but I've already lost a thumb war to the Department of the Treasury before..and I'm scared of them.)

Michael Ward Taxpayer, citizen, “America lover”
Richmond, VA 23220

To whom it may concern,

I recently received a tax refund check for $37,970.50. I quickly realized a mistake must have occurred and called the IRS 1-800 phone number to report it. I realize other disonest taxpayers might have deposited the check, grown a mustache and flown to Buenos Ares, or purchased a used Geo Metro and cruise for chicks, but not this responsible citizen.

The check has been voided and is accompanying this very letter. However, I would like to reimbursed for a few things:

• The stamp to mail this letter (39 cents)
• The cell phone air time I used to listen to “The Nutcracker” while waiting on hold to clear up your error. ($2.30)
• And since I wrote this letter on company time, I would like the several minutes worth of my salary reimbursed, so I can forward this to my employer. That’s $5.55.

That totals $8.24. I’ll accept payment by check, Canadian coin, Confederate bonds or New York Mets tickets.

I did want to thank you for the slight feeling of adventure that your accounting error gave me. The thoughts of no longer driving an awful car without A/C, of not buying boxer shorts from Target and of no longer having to use coupons at Shoney’s sent a temporary bolt of electricity through my life.

Instead, I’m left $8.24 in the hole, and with the knowledge that the once infallible Uncle Sam has Huey, Dewey and Luey babysitting his swimming pool of gold. (Please excuse the “Duck Tales” reference.)

With pomp and circumstance,
Michael “Appleseed” Ward