It's News To Me!

Introducing a new feature on Precogs.net: "It's News To Me!", where I discuss all the hottest stories, links, videos and other controversies that everyone else on the web stopped talking about days ago. It may be old, but It's News To Me!

* President Bush nominates a lawyer with zero years as an actual sitting judge to serve a lifetime appointment on the most important court in the country. It's so refreshing to see that the whole FEMA/Katrina debacle hasn't shaken George from his absolute conviction that a complete lack of qualifications and experience should never be an obstacle to getting a vitally important government job.

* Shining: Perfect in so many ways.

* Even someone as dumb as Brian Nichols probably realizes how ridiculous it is that a crystal meth addict was giving him advice on how to a live a "purpose driven" life. Or he would have realized it, if he wasn't himself a crank-addicted murderer. Boy... irony sucks, huh?

* Wow. Tom DeLay is really a dick, isn't he?

* No offense to Michelle and everyone else who has been going on and on about Friendster this week... but I honestly have no idea what they hell you're all talking about.

* Liz Phair's new albumis out and surprise... Pitchfork doesn't like it. I doubt anyone unwilling to give up the pretensions of a "serious" rock critic will like it and maybe no one in the world will like it except for me, and maybe Grambo. I haven't heard it yet, because I forgot to pre-order. (Read the first 'graph again. I'm never on time.) But I will say this to everyone who is forever down on her, and listen closely: She will never make another Exile In Guyville.No one could. So get over it.

* Oh, and here — a week later, as if anyone cared anymore — is what I said last week at the WYSIWYG Talent Show. The last part requires you to use your imagination a little bit.

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Speaking of being naked… is there a greater feeling in the world than the one you get when you find out that your roommate is going out of town for the weekend, leaving you free to roam around the apartment in the all-together?

Sure, if you live alone, you can walk around in the buff all you want, but where’s the danger? The thrill of the forbidden? The secret joy you get when the roommate returns and innocently asks, “So what did you do this weekend?”

“Oh….. nothing,” you smirk; quietly reflecting on the memory of your bare ass on his favorite chair.

As I was thinking about my past living arrangements in preparation for tonight, I tried to consider some of the good things about living with another person, and the all-nude weekend was pretty much all I could come up with. Sadly, the only good roommate is an absent roommate.

I have had four roommates in my adult life, all of them awful. This does not include my current roomie, who is unquestionably the best housemate ever. She cooks, she cleans, the refrigerator is always filled with food, and she doesn’t even make me pay rent.

That’s right, ladies… I live with my mom.

Now I know that living with a parent in your extremely late twenties sounds really awesome, but some people actually question this lifestyle choice. However, given the housing nightmares of my past, who could blame me for not wanting to leave a spacious brand-new condo for a three-room hovel that smells like incense and spoiled cheese? You think anyone I find on Craigslist is ever going to utter the words, “Hey, I’m doing a load of whites... you want to throw yours in?”

I moved out of my last shared apartment almost six years ago, and I have no intention of ever sharing another one again. It would be an understatement to say that all of my roommates have been less than ideal. Actually, before I go any further, I should make sure none of my former roommates are here tonight. It’s not that I’m afraid of them, it’s just that I don’t want seem insensitive. This isn’t personal, and I don’t like to burn bridges. I want to make it clear that I’m not here to embarrass or insult them in any way.

Are you guys out there? Dan? Drew? Chris? No?

Okay, let me tell you something about these cocksuckers. They were loud, obnoxious petty, cheap, filthy; they had morons for buddies, whores for girlfriends, they couldn’t remember a phone message if it came from Jesus himself, and they were living in my house! Infiltrating my home with the stank of overwhelming sloth. Just thinking about them makes me want to smash their faces into the pavement with my fists until my knuckles are raw with blood and shards of bone…..

But I digress.

Look, I understand the world is full of fools, but why do they all seem to have my address. Why have I been inflicted with so much buffoonery? I have spent a lot of time analyzing it. I thought about what brought us together. What were the common factors that they all shared?

But I realized something. There was only one common factor. One inescapable truth that bound them together. Me. Then it hit home.

I am the world’s worst roommate.

Face it. I’m impossible to live with. I’m too demanding, too sensitive. My standards for cleanliness and noise are impossibly high. The truth is, I am only happy when I’m alone. And this is a revelation that has liberated me.

In fact, I feel should call these gentlemen and thank them. And apologize. “I did not value you, oh wise and gentle sirs, for your wisdom and charity. You had much to teach me, and I, but a poor, humble wretch would not listen." Only now do I realize my error. Why couldn’t I appreciate everything they did for me?

Like the dorm mate, who wouldn’t let me play music while I studied. He knew that it would be an insidious distraction that would negatively affect my grades. His decision to play video games while I read, however, was simply a test of my powers of concentration. He was just looking out for my future.

Just like the freshman year chap who refused to make a graceful exit when I brought the girl I was seeing back to our room to make out. He knew that her slatternly ways would only lead me to ruin and possibly the clap. (Actually, that did work out for the best. She was a tramp.)

Or the off-campus roommate, who got in the habit of leaving all the windows in the apartment open. At night. In January. Sure, I had a throat infection for most of February, but I gained a new found respect for the benefits of fresh air.

But the roommate I was least grateful for was the one I had when I lived here in New York. Chris. See, Chris was an out of work actor. Quite frankly, it was the role he was born to play. A true student of the Method, Chris sunk himself completely into his character, in order to paint the perfect portrait of the unemployed thespian.

Like practicing for his foreign accents workshop by breaking into a Scottish brogue at the most unexpected moments. Staying up late into the evening to construct scenery … in our living room. And as far as I could tell, he resolutely avoided all auditions, on the off chance the he accidentally end up with an actual paying job. Every day he seemed to take the performance to a whole other level. I truly believed that he would never find work on the stage or screen. That takes talent, people.

He also took the time to teach me about the craft of acting. Like the time he returned from watching the Broadway production of The Iceman Cometh. The show starred Kevin Spacey, who was nominated for a Tony Award in the role of Hickey. Chris explained to me how he really focused on the other actors on stage; even when he wasn’t speaking he gave them his full attention, maintaining eye contact and using facial expressions to give the other cast members something to react to and build from.

It wasn’t until later that I realized Chris was not talking about Kevin Spacey; he was talking about himself, in the role of Audience Member #36, a bravura performance that critic Ben Brantley said, “made the rest of the crowd look like masturbators at a 10-cent peep show.” Chris brought so much to the production that had Mr. Spacey actually won the Tony, I’m sure he would have remembered to thank that plucky up-and-comer in the third row, for making it all possible

But the night I remember most, was the night that I was personally treated to a special improv so powerful, that it left me a changed human being.

In the history of the theater, there have been a handful of performances that have become so engraved in the imagination, where the player so perfectly embodies their character, that the two become inseparable and the actor and the role are forever linked in the public’s mind. I’m thinking of Olivier as Hamlet. Gielgud as Richard the II. Brando as Stanley Kowalski.

But all of those pale in comparison to the performance that I alone was witness to. The special one-night only, limited engagement… My Roommate … as God.

Now, I was going explain this to you, but I don’t think that words can do the performance justice, so I brought a clip. Would you like to see it?

[Ed: At this point, I pulled a volunteer from the audience; a young woman named Eden, who I believe is David's sister, but I did not know that at the time. A small table is set up at the side of the stage, with two chairs and the game Axis and Allies set up on the table.. Eden and I sit across from each other as though we are about to play a match.]

Allow me to set the scene for you. Chris came home one night to announce that his manhood had been assaulted. He had been challenged to a game of Axis and Allies.

Now for those of you who don’t know what Axis and Allies is, it’s a board game for people who think Risk is not nerdy enough. The goal is to re-fight World War II, through the magic of dice rolling. A self-proclaimed expert of the game, Chris had set up a one-on-one grudge match against a friend.

He even agreed to play this showdown as the Axis, which I don’t have to tell you is the tougher position to win from. Naturally, he was not afraid, but in order to ensure that he was at the peak of his powers, Chris decided to sneak in a practice session and forced me to participate.

What you are about to see actually happened in my living room, during the game, but please bear in mind, I am not a professional out-of-work actor, so I can’t fully conjure the true greatness of that night. But hopefully, this will give you a flavor of the master at work…..

Eden will be playing the part of me and I will be Chris-slash-God. So imagine she looks like me, and I look like the lead singer of Train, with an alcohol problem.

[Eden rolls the dice and I am quite pleased with the result.]

“Oooh, it looks like you’re losing ground in the Ukraine. The mighty Soviet Empire appears to be weakening. Perhaps it’s time for French Equatorial Africa to come into the mix…..

[I pick up the dice and prepare to roll. Suddenly, I am struck by a thought]

You know what this is like? This is like we’re God. It’s 1942 and these countries are battling for control of the planet. And we get to determine their fate. It’s like we’re deciding the future of the world.

[I pause. I close my eyes for a moment and allow myself to get into character. When I open them, I have assumed the role of God.]

“Hmmm…. Let’s see. What’s going on in my world today. Oh, it looks Germany and Britain are still fighting. How should I settle this? I don’t think I’m going to let Britain win this battle. Yes, I’m going to let Germany continue to control Europe. For now… HAHAHA…… TAKE THAT POLAND!!!”

[I toss the dice at the board, scattering pieces. Exuent!]

[As Dashiell again]: I just realized that I never did get my security deposit back. I’ll just chalk it up as the worst Ticketmaster surcharge… ever.

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