For the second time in my life, external circumstances have brought me to find religion. I wish I could say that I am in need of a holy revelation, or even better, that I saw the Virgin Mary in a tortilla, but no. My learned readers, you probably know that I became a UU so that I could get my Eagle award from the Boy Scouts. Now I am to become a preacher so that I can wed my brother and his girlfriend.

To answer your first question, my brother has yet to pop the question. That is not what this posting is about. You should hear from my brother before you hear from me that he is getting hitched and such. We’ll reflect upon that topic some other day. Maybe I’ll have my brother guest blog and have him tell you all about it.

Today’s rumination is about this new title of mine. Colin, the Pronouncer. Shall I become a Padre, Reverend, Vicar, Cleric or just mr. vaguely enlightened? I feel that I have to have some sort of spiritual quest before my googling monkeys get back to me with all the necessary paperwork to be ordained in the state of Arizona.

So begins my spiritual quest. I wonder if there are any trains in Grand Central that go to the desert. Or perhaps since I am in a port town -- lest you forget -- maybe it would be more apropos to search for a whale. Maybe this is a good time to finish my paint by numbers Jesus.

No epiphanies yet, but I will keep you posted.

Posted by Colin J Allen at 1:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I think that the Gates are pretty cool. Am I allowed to say that in an art critique? Probably not, so let me explain a bit more. I first saw the gates two weekends ago on a dreary rainy day. There they were, huge pieces of bright saffron fabric, hanging at a touchable height, against a dreary gray sky. It was quite moving, as if the park was going through the motions of autumn, but this time in reverse. Wouldn’t that be great if trees turned orange before they burst into green? For that concept alone, the Gates are an astounding success.

I must also give credit for art -- abstract art at that -- that both New Yorkers and the world’s tourists have come out to see. Usually you get either one (Times Square) or the other (Chelsea). People who would not step foot in a museum came out to see the Gates, but so did the President’s wife (I would hope that she has been in a museum at some point in her life). We all like it. Maybe there is some innate human desire to want to see expansive displays of pretty colors. Maybe we all love the color orange. I know I do.

I do not know if the Gates have profoundly changed my life, but I think it is a pretty darn good idea. And heck, if it had not been there, the Gates-watchers would have not been able to save those two stupid dogs. Perhaps that rescue will help counter the lives lost from Cristof's previous works of art.

Posted by Colin J Allen at 4:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

He, he. This is funny. LINK

I'm sorry. I'll get some coffee and see if I can come up with something.

Posted by Colin J Allen at 2:45 PM | Permalink

I don't get it. It snowed this weekend, leaving a beautiful blanket of snow over the city. Of course, the majority of this was quickly swept away by the City's ruthlessly efficient snow removal apparatus. But the parks, ah the beautiful parks, were still covered in white goodness. I spent all of Presidents Day out in the park playing in the snow. Maybe my friend Henry and I were the only ones who got the holiday off, but there was a distinct lack of grownups enjoying the snow-covered park.

Not that I mind going down the hill in my atomic snow saucer with a bunch of screaming three-foot younglings; sledding is a great childhood experience. But what's up with this lack of adults playing in the snow? Maybe all the adults were gawking at the Saffron in Central Park, but I think that they were just not out playing. Is there some age limit on having fun when it snows? If you don't play in it, what is the good of snow? All hassle and no fun. You don't have to go sledding, but even a walk in the white stuff can be a good time.

At least I don't have it as bad as my brother. He lives in Colorado where neither the adults nor the kids play in the snow. His theory is an overabundance of Playstations. I think he may have something there.

Posted by Colin J Allen at 2:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

NEW YORK -- A ploy to accumulate postal addresses through a postcard contest has become too successful. The contest, which rewards all contests with a postcard if they supply their postal address, may bring an undue burden on the organizer of the event, Colin Allen. He is concerned that the volume of mail he now must send will take away too much of his time.

"Man, that was too easy," Allen said, "I have my address book filled up again, but now I have to actually start writing the damn things. Do they think that I am some kind of writer?"

Allen, who currently works as a journalist for a major insurance firm, began the contest as a way to restore his address book that was lost when his computer’s hard drive malfunctioned. In less than a day, nearly 30 applicants submitted their names. All must now receive a postcard, as the contest rules stipulate.

"Does it look like I have a bunch of monkeys ready to do my bidding?" Colin asked. He plans to write the postcards during his commute, which he admits is plenty long enough for him to produce the postcards.

Posted by Colin J Allen at 1:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Hello one and all. I have had an electronic altercation with my computer over the last month. Now that the dust is settled, I now have a new external hard drive that works, yet my data has gone through some inadvertent housecleaning.

Like a sloppy housecleaner, the guy who rescued my photos, music and stories from the grasp of collapsing building that was my old drive gathered my e-goods randomly to say the least. My fonts are fine, but Stevie Wonder (pre-electronica) didn’t find his way out. I have my photos, but no bookmarks.

Worst of all, I lost all my addresses.

Instead of turning this into a reminder to backup your data, which you would probably ignore anyway, I wanted to start up a contest. Here is how it goes:

Win a Postcard Today!

You are eligible to receive for FREE a custom-designed, hand-written postcard, delivered to your very own household address. All contestants can be winners simply by sending their postal address via an electronic communication. NO postage necessary. Your changes of winning are 100 in 100. Guaranteed delivery -- if you have a New York address, I promise to send you another correspondence one if/when your postcard gets lost/stolen by your mailman/neighbor.

Winners are already streaming in. Join in the print revolution today!

Posted by Colin J Allen at 11:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What is this, a Super Bowl that you watch for the game and not the ads? Is this what we have come to? Is this all because of one nipple? Come on now people of Madison Avenue. I expect more from you. This was your big day. This was your one chance to prove yourself worthy of interrupting my shows for the rest of the year.

You, like, so failed.

Come on people of Budweiser. You know all I really want to see is another Bud Bowl. And what do you do? You pull out a patriotism ad. Come on guys, why must you do this to me? Thinking about solders makes me want to drink but more in commiseration not celebration. And from that you go on to replacing a Clydesdale with a pig? Have you no shame? Isn't the whole point of the horses is that they are timeless? Iconic? Just give me another Bud Bowl.

Pepsi. I hate you all the more now. Really, I do. Musical cans, lame Pepsi trucks with monster wheels. Ugh.

And my website's host, godaddy.com, let us never speak of that ad again.

The funniest ad wasn't even that funny. Tossing Mc Hammer back over the neighbor's fence was funny, but I have to admit that was a little cold.

Sigh. At least the football is getting better.

Posted by Colin J Allen at 5:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)