Too bad, as missbhavens said, that $1 info sounds like a good deal.

Now, did I ever mention that I am addicted to the podcasts of Flight Attendant Betty in the Sky with a Suitcase? Click that link for her blog with podcasts, or go to iTunes and subscribe (she’s in there). On a recent round-trip to Europe on her employer’s airline (which shall remain nameless, but loyal readers know), I secretly hoped she’d be on my flight. (Luckily, she has a distinctive voice., so if she offered me a soft drink, I’d know.)

I am not sure if it is Betty’s sparkling personality, or the way she gets fellow crew members, and even passengers, to tell the funniest stories of life in flight or her globe-trotting travels, but I am glued to my headphones. (I have a hunch that I could get into well-made podcasts even on topics I have no interest in, but there’s not enough time in the day to test that out in any systematic way!)

It might also be the fact that the verbal chameleon has a weak connection to the airline industry, having once spent a summer working security in the busiest airport in the U.S. It was there that I met fellow security guard Ibrahim, a Cuban marathon runner, who whiled away our long night shifts regaling me with tales of his three girlfriends (two of whom were otherwise attached, which meant many of the stories were of near-escapes, three steps ahead of potentially life-threatening situations).

It’s also where I met Mazur, the cleaning man who knew no English, but taught me my first words of Polish (note: I still only know a few.) Mazur was always mopping and buffing the walkway in Terminal One at 2:30 in the morning, when I went to “lunch.” This was the walkway where the rainbow neon lights flutter above, and Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue booms out.

In the daytime, filled with people, it doesn’t boom. But at 2:30 a.m., the tune ends slowly in the darkened walkway, barely lit at night except for the decorative rainbow lights above, and the recorded woman’s voice warning “the moving walkways are now ending:”

Boom boom boom
Boom boom
Boom boom boom
Boom boooooom boooooom boooooooom boooooooooooooooooom!

The effect was downright eerie. Mazur was a welcome sight.

When I left at the end of the summer to go to college, Mary and Wally and the other security guards gave me a silver pen and pencil set, engraved with my initials.
I still have it. I used it today.

Cyrille de Lasteyrie (aka Vinvin) is a genius, and I am not in the habit of using such terms loosely. His Bonjour America is the best thing I have ever seen (for free, on the web). I discovered him while trying to catch up with Bicyclemark’s recent blog postings. (It’s a truism that most of my good internet finds come from Bicyclemark.) He’s a Frenchman who has something to say to America. And he is a very funny man. What’s refreshing is that while Vinvin is critical of American culture and foreign policy, his commentary is (from what I have seen) always funny and never facile. He obviously loves us, dislikes Bush, and wants to teach us about cheese.

Go and watch “The Frencheese Project.” As Vinvin says,

You’ll be scared, and then you’ll learn a few things about cheese. Is the french cheese good for the health? This is the big question of this episode!

Or watch “What do we think about America? A big poll,” and find out what the French think about Dick Chenay. (Yes, Dick Chenay.)

Or just enjoy a nice impersonation of Charlie Sheen with a French accent.

What could be better? Well, there is a whole archive worth of vlogs from Bonjour America. So have fun answering that question yourself. And do answer it, please. If I keep posting at the heady rate of once every 5 weeks, I do expect you to try and keep up. In return, I will endeavor always to include a picture, Dear Reader, for your enjoyment.

Last night he saw a commercial for a new reality show following “People who work out in gyms!” No, I am not kidding. Granted, it was on some channel no one watches (FitTV or somesuch.)

And he said, “Why don’t they come out with an interesting reality show.”
And I said, “Like what?”
And he said, “You know, something new, something really good. Like Cannibals!”
And I laughed.
And he said, “Or lepers!”

Seven cannibals, picked to live in a house, and have their lives taped. You know, it does sound interesting. Come on, cable TV producers. You know you want to pluck this man out of his mild-mannered librarian job and put him to work, don’t you?

There was no explanation of who put this there or why. But when I encounter such things in my neighborhood, I always attribute them to the artists.

Another example: the appearance last year of plastic professionally-printed stickers (about 3 x 4 inches) pasted over the “push button for walk signal” button on crosswalk posts. Last February, New Yorkers found out from the NYTimes that those buttons–in the vast majority of cases, I believe it was something like 75% or 80%–do not work. Here’s a link to the article, but it’s no longer free. (Hey, I am an academic, I must compulsively document my vaguely remembered sources.) Anyway, the stickers that some wise folks had posted over the directions now said, “Push Button for Luck.”

They gave me many smiles, and I consider that lucky, don’t you?

The other thing that’s great about living in this neighborhood, with its low population and high percentage of arty folk, is that fashion-wise, anything goes. I am not talking about the dirty old 70’s t-shirts that pass for arty on the less-creative hipsters who stumble off the G-train from Williamsburg, confused and disoriented, looking for that happening party at PS1.

I’m talking women on bicycles with spiked hair, orange workmen’s boiler suits, and combat boots (dirty, not couture) speckled with paint. You can wear anything in this neighborhood and not look strange. And if you’re a woman with no makeup, they assume you’ve got something else going on. (That’s kind of true of true in NYC in general, except that on the big island of Manhattan, the tourists are always there to gawp and point at the more creative locals, like my tripped out transvestite comrade riding the D train, looking like a Chrismahanakwanzakah Tree in full technicolor-patterned skirt and very-much-contrasting blouse, faux fur, and tinsel. He was beautiful.) But here in artist-central, anything goes. It’s heavenly. Perhaps a bit on the mundane side of daring, but it suits me.

By the way, you’ll notice that the new verbal chameleon does not apologize for not posting in a month. The new verbal chameleon is an older, wiser, more economical, less apologetic, shinier, fluffier verbal chameleon. In short, the new verbal chameleon has been busy, but will do her best to keep you informed.

She wishes you all the best for the season. Um, if you’re still there?

Don’t worry about the world coming to an end. It’s already tomorrow in Australia.

What’s funny is that I read those words just after watching a clip of Wolf Blitzer asking Pat Robertson if the latest natural disasters (Katrina, Pakistan Earthquake, etc.) were a sign that the end of days (i.e. Armaggedon) was near. (As the Daily Show said much more eloquently than I will, nice piece of investigative journalism, Wolf.)

I note that the people at Golden Bowl apparently have, if not a handle on the future, a sparkling way with words. Their motto?

Fortune knocks but once . . .
but Golden Bowl Brand Fortune Cookies knocks three times.

I am not sure what it means, but it makes me think.

The same company that makes these cookies, Wonton Foods, was in the news last May when 110 people won Powerball lotteries across the country after playing numbers in their fortune cookie fortunes. According to this article from Reuters, 4-5 winners is typical, so when there were 110, investigators looked around and found out they’d all got their numbers from a fortune. Apparently some folks are really compelled to obey the fortune cookie. And what’s more, they were right.