Shufflin Dance

What desires lurk (and do not lurk) in the hearts of online book shoppers.

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 18:17:00 -0400

I was looking to clear some space on the bookshelves without having to lug a big rippy paper sack over to the Strand and get served 12 pounds of irritated bitchface from some angry M.F.A. recipient who’s only working there to pay the rent at Paragraph or the Writer’s Room (where Shufflin’ Dance spent a few years toiling over ill-advised feature stories about feta cheese tasting menus and tortured/erous short stories about recent ex-boyfriends). So I set up an Amazon.com “store” to try and sell some of the chaff.

Given how many “used, like new” copies of every book imaginable are available out there for $.01 from the likes of “State of Maine-Sized Warehouse of Books,” I was pretty sure that this was a gigantic waste of time. But then, for no apparent reason (I am never the cheapest option, and there is exactly 0% feedback about my status as an honest merchant), someone decided to buy one of my books. And another! And another!

Here’s what five random Amazon shoppers were willing to take a chance on:

-PostSecret by Frank Warren (hardcover). I charged $14.25. This book was fun, but one reading is enough for most people, and it might make its way back to Amazon sooner than the purchaser thinks.

-White Teeth by Zadie Smith (paperback). There were something like 792 copies of this book available used on Amazon, many of them listed for less than the dollar that I charged. I bought it to read on a plane, then chose to sleep instead. Later I brought it on a train trip, then chose to read Joan Didion’s Year of Magical Thinking instead. I knew I would never read this book. I hope the buyer likes it.

-I Was Told There’d Be Cake by Sloane Crosley (paperback). This was a sale made not without trepidation. The author and I are Facebook friends! (I am one of like 900 at least.) She was at my wedding (NOT the one she wrote so nastily about) because she used to date a friend of mine! I only just bought it two months ago, and had special-ordered it from the very sad and getting sadder Shakespeare & Co. on East 23rd Street which now shares space with an art supply store! But then I read about this which made me feel as if I’d never achieved anything in my life, and I decided to get rid of the evidence. I got $7.00 for it.

-Diary by Chuck Palahniuk (paperback). I read this on a beach vacation in Barbados and do not remember a single thing about it except that it was quick and enjoyable. I charged $5.99.

-Bikram’s Beginning Yoga Class, 2nd edition by Bikram Choudhury (paperback). Bought this book while in the grips of a year-long Bikram yoga phase which contributed heavily to my credit card debt—that shit is not cheap. I took the book along with me on a trip to St. Pete Beach, Florida, and tried to do the poses in my dinky motel room with the heat turned up rather than risk humiliation on the beach. My Bikram studio was five blocks from Ground Zero so I stopped going after 9/11 because I was afraid of air pollutants or something. Also I hear that Bikram is kind of a dick. I got $7.00 for this book, which was purchased either by an inmate in a North Carolina prison or someone who works there and prefers to have his mail sent to the office. The idea of an inmate being allowed to do a 90-minute series of 26 yoga poses in a room that’s at least 110 degrees Fahrenheit seems somewhat unlikely, unless they just straight-up don’t have air-conditioning, which seems totally possible.

Here are the titles available in my “store” that I don’t expect to do move quickly or at all:

-Zagat Survey 2000 San Francisco Bay Area Restaurants. Though maybe it’ll be snapped up by some Chowhoundy archivist type who was missing this particular year.
-Fat Bald Jeff by Leslie Stella.
-4% Famous by Deborah Schoeneman: she used to write for Page Six and used to do it with Rocco DiSpirito and then wrote a book about it. It’s not as poorly-written as The Devil Wears Prada, but will probably never be made into a major motion picture starring Meryl Streep (I’m thinking Lifetime Latenight Special starring Amanda Bynes AT BEST), so I don’t expect anyone to buy this mediocre book from me.
-A 1987 paperback edition of The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis. I thought maybe it’d get some points for being an older edition, but now I think that unless it’s got a photo of drunk Jessica Biel double fist-dancing her way to a football team gangbang, no one cares. Also, Shannyn Sossamon named her kid Audioscience, which I think hurt peoples’ interest in this “story.”

I know I’m being lazy, but it’s kind of perfect:...

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 13:42:27 -0400

I know I’m being lazy, but it’s kind of perfect: From the fail blog.

L.E.S. Jewels being arrested in July 2007. Photo from the...

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 18:10:00 -0400

L.E.S. Jewels being arrested in July 2007. Photo from the Villager, by Lorcan Otway.

"“I just don’t want anybody else to get hurt,” Penley said before learning of the arrest. “The way..."

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 17:14:00 -0400

“

“I just don’t want anybody else to get hurt,” Penley said before learning of the arrest. “The way he’s been going, he’s going to hurt himself, or somebody is going to hurt him really bad.”

Rock ’n’ Roll, a regular on the park benches, put it more bluntly: “The way he’s been going, baby, somebody’s gonna tear his a—hole out of its frame.”

”

- “Antics out of hands, L.E.S. Jewels faces hard time,” from the [once in a while truly wonderful in its singular focus] Villager, July 25 - 31 2007. L.E.S. Jewels, aka Joel Pakela, was part of a protest last night outside Bowery Wine Company, which the Village Voice describes as “Atlanta strip mall-inspired.” Bruce Willis is an investor. As previously noted, having this modern-day GG Allin darken his tax shelter’s doorstep surely has not had any impact on Willis, in any way except perhaps to make him chuckle in the way that the very insulated rich do when given to fleeting thoughts of poor people objecting to their right to make and enjoy their money.
UPDATE: Willis ain’t even an investor!

Someday a rain will come and wash inconsiderate dickbags with...

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 14:23:52 -0400

Someday a rain will come and wash inconsiderate dickbags with master’s degrees in film history off my block.

A slight sense of vindication

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 14:14:00 -0400

I am well-aware that just because a restaurant is owned or invested in by a celebrity, that person, 99 times out of 100, has very little to do with the day-to-day running of the operation, as long as they can always host a party for their teenage stepdaughter and pick up a dividend check every few weeks. The only exception I can think of is Jeri Ryan, the hot blonde chick from one of the later Star Trek iterations, who helps out with the front of the house at Ortolan, her husband’s restaurant in L.A. (although I think she had a baby recently, so, not so much anymore, unless she is truly not of the human race.)

ANYWHIZZ, even knowing that actor/entrepreneur Robert DeNiro is hardly gnashing his capped teeth over it, this this colossal takedown of “his” new Manhattan restaurant Ago in today’s New York Times (zero stars, “poor”) gives me a small warm glow that the office ~~snowmaker~~ air-conditioner cannot freeze out of me, at least not today.

You see, last week, some or another asshole film production company, having procured a permit from the city etc etc, took over the block on which Shufflin Dance makes its home. And had a bunch of cars towed. And denied SD (who is pregnant and had to pee and was carrying groceries and expecting dinner guests) access to her home for a good 10 minutes while Mr. DeNiro and his castmates said words and made motions in front of a camera, while in costume. Which, in reality, should have all been fine and well and in keeping with living in a place like New York where films get made and art thrives etc etc, except that said film production company also affixed a very bright light, roughly the size of SD’s kitchen (not an exaggeration), to the outside of the building, DIRECTLY outside of the SD bedroom window. And left it illuminated until 3 am for two nights consecutive. And it was only after Mr. Shuff yelled out the window to ask “Bobby D” to “turn the fucking light off,” presumably ruining a midnight ~~run~~ take and rattling a number of gaffer/key grip/PA/best boy nerves (not sorry!!) that anyone thought to come up to the Shuff apartment and hang some light-blocking black fabric in our windows. Which they then tried to get back from us the next day by RINGING THE BUZZER at 3:30 am, but which we decided was going to be our souvenir/the cost of doing business with the Shuff.

Less egregious but no less infuriating was the asshole member of the crew who, while standing on the street six stories below, while no filming of any kind was happening, instructed Mr. Shuff to stop taking flash photos from the roof of the Shuff building. Oh, and the crew members who paused on their scissor lift at 3 am outside the Shuff bedroom to yell at the electric crew and have a conversation among themselves.

The movie, by the way, is to be called “Everybody’s Fine,” is a remake of an Italian film, and also stars the unencumbered-by-talent Drew Barrymore. Every last person involved with the making of this film should go fuck themselves.

Berkeley students staring down members of the National Guard,...

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 08:24:00 -0400

Berkeley students staring down members of the National Guard, 1969.

A New Report From Our First Parafascist State:

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 08:19:00 -0400

There is a book in the Shufflin’ Dance household, purchased some time ago by the voracious Mr. Shuff, entitled Anti-California: Report From Our First Parafascist State by Kenneth Lamott. First published by Little, Brown in 1963 and reprinted throughout the decade and into the 70s, it addresses the SDS, Berkeley riots, Ronald Reagan, Ho Chi Minh and other things that I’d assumed were “of the past.” The font used on the cover serves as a kind of time-stamp and would appear to have nothing to do with “the way things are today.”

Except that then I read this in today’s Los Angeles Times:

A high school principal in Northern California said he will eliminate the student newspaper after it published a front-page photo of a student burning an American flag.

Shasta High School Principal Milan Woollard said the latest issue of the student-run Volcano was embarrassing.

“The paper’s done,” Woollard told the Record Searchlight newspaper of Redding. “There is not going to be a school newspaper next year.”

From the FAIL blog.

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 17:21:12 -0400

From the FAIL blog.

"London’s Evening Standard newspaper quoted a “sauce” as saying the man is thought..."

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 17:14:05 -0400

“London’s Evening Standard newspaper quoted a “sauce” as saying the man is thought to have spent £4000 ($8170) on learning to cook classic and regional French dishes.”

- “Trainee chef fried with Taser,” from Australia’s Herald Sun, 06/05/08, about a guy who threatened to chiffonade his veins unless allowed to re-take the exams he’d just failed.

From a series called “Smokin’!” on Slate.com

Sat, 31 May 2008 16:24:38 -0400

From a series called “Smokin’!” on Slate.com

In which the born-again Chicago chef gets an hourlong commericial for his restaurant and his book which is in itself a commercial for his other restaurant. It's Top Chef.

Wed, 28 May 2008 23:44:00 -0400

It puts the hydrocolloid gel in the liquid or else it gets the whisk again. Spike, that known master of haberdashery, should be less confused by a USDA-approved hair net, an extra one of which somehow ends up over his mouth. Perhaps this is a shout-out to the knife-and-accessories-packed Andrew, as imagined in a pivotal Silence of the Lambs role? Though honestly I see him as more a Red Dragon kind of guy, what with the gluing to the wheelchair and biting off of the lips. And in case you were wondering, my dear sweet Catholic mom read that book when I was like six years old, and gleefully told me about that scene. And I feel it’s made into who I am today.

The voice-overs are getting so obvious and patchy that it’s as if the fake lady who fake-assists you on a customer service call (as imagined by the brilliant Rachel Dratch) is phoning it in for Padma. “I-I-I think you said, ‘A gigantic hourlong ad for Tramonto’s Suburban Starwood Double Restaurant Deal that will pay for his kid’s Bob Jones University tuition.’ Is that right?”

When making use of her own voice, Padma’s accent skitters from Moon Unit Zappa c. 1982 to present-day Avenue C mami chula to a Ferran Adria/Santi Santamaria cage match on the Catalonian border to her usual affected mouthful of marbles in the span of a single stilted, product-placed sentence.

From one of the actual commercial breaks: things that just do not belong together not matter how much DDB or Ogilvy or whomever strive to make it so:
-Michelob Light and yoga ladies
-Wii Fit and actual human fitness
-The M&M format and dark chocolate
-Tom Colicchio, Kathy Griffin and Jackie Warner from Workout

“Gee Padma, I guess it’s probably not hearts of palm season in Chicago right now.”

Former Top Chef Ilan just ~~stuck~~ jammed his whole hand in his mouth on camera, presumably to get at that last bit of poached egg. None of the previous Top Chef winners dining at Chez National Exposure seem to have invested any of their prize money into a basic table manners class, unless I’m wrong and steak knives are meant to be held at 0-degree angles, parallel to one’s face, for the duration of a meal.

And, I cannot wait to see how Sharkface’s hairdo and general fuckwittery hold up in PR, and whether Padma shows up in doorknocker earrings and a drawn-on mole.

Dude, we sold a shitload of Lime Jello K-hole Coolers last...

Fri, 23 May 2008 19:39:52 -0400

Dude, we sold a shitload of Lime Jello K-hole Coolers last night!

A distasteful connection without a redeeming "teachable moment."

Fri, 23 May 2008 19:37:00 -0400

Those who have not familiarized themselves with sleazy entertainers from the 1920s are doomed to name their Long Island sports bars after them, and behave abhorrently within.

Quick, name something more flat-out fucking revolting than edible gold. Or: "Get back down in that mine, Susu needs her medicine money!"

Tue, 20 May 2008 21:43:00 -0400

NEW YORK (AP) — A Manhattan restaurant is offering a hamburger that costs $175 and is topped with gold. It’s made of Kobe beef. It comes with black truffles, foie gras and Gruyere cheese in addition to gold flakes.

Wall Street Burger Shoppe co-owner Heather Tierney thinks of it as “a work of art.”

Tierney says the item attracts Wall Street types who down a few beers and then fork over $175 to show off to their friends.

Yeah, hey, send a dozen to your buddies from Bear Stearns! Send a case to those Enron families sharing shifts at Quizno’s because they lost their life savings! Airlift a gross of them to fucking Burma and China! You’re an art-world hero, Heather Tierney, and what a surprise that you were a marketing major in college!

Today’s special is a raw nori roll with Sudafed flakes,...

Wed, 14 May 2008 23:33:00 -0400

Today’s special is a raw nori roll with Sudafed flakes, toluene vinaigrette and a little bit of AA battery acid shaved over the top.

Top Chef: in which any grooming is too much grooming and sexy cannot be persuaded to come back, no matter how much you curse at it.

Wed, 14 May 2008 23:32:00 -0400

Funny/sad: the opening credits, or, gallery of losers. Who’s sad Valerie? Cartoonish Erik and his incredible death-metal jumping move? Happy Manuel?

For the love of god would you please. hold. the god. damn. grooming scenes. No thank you to Dale’s stomach. No thank you to Dale applying deodorant. No thank you to Stephanie plucking her brow. No thank you to shirtless Spike. No. No. No.

Aaaand the award for lamest and least-applicable use of the exhausted phrase “sexyback” goes to Padma, Hot Diabetes O’Malley and the salad quickfire. Also, if I knew that finishing close to the top of Top Chef season 2 meant coming back for a cameo wearing ~~Abercrombie’s fall 2004 boy’s line~~ wardrobe that was rejected by the Jonas Brothers as being too much of a suburban mall cliché, I’d have stuck my dick in the mashed potatoes and called it a day, H.D.

They should just re-name this show “With a little bit of,” because every cheftestant uses this phrase every time to describe the last ingredient in every single goddamn dish.

What do we think might be wrong with Spike’s head that he never allows it free and unfettered access to light and air? Bald spot? Tiny horns? Giant Masengil tattoo? Eczema? Psoriasis and its attendant heartbreak? A colony of scabies? A partially resorbed twin? He is Greek, after all.

Meth mouth Andrew says: wasabi helps with tooth decay. Also, what is up with his invoking honor and loyalty ad nauseum? Is this a friggin’ Scout retreat, ~~Hattori Hanso~~ Canteen Boy? Please pack your knives, your crazy, your pseudoephedrine, your ephedrine, your Reynolds wrap, your paper clips, your lighter, your Robitussin, your Sudafed, your Actifed, your acetone, your toluene, your Benadryl, your No-Doz, your tweezers, your fake metal cigarette, your Pyrex glassware, your matches, your forged checkbook, your baking soda and your application for Faces of Meth 2008. And GO.

Nancy Botwin would not approve.

Thu, 08 May 2008 17:45:00 -0400

Nancy Botwin would not approve.

"According to documents filed in the case, Gonzalez, Jones and an unnamed juvenile on March 15 went..."

Thu, 08 May 2008 17:39:00 -0400

“According to documents filed in the case, Gonzalez, Jones and an unnamed juvenile on March 15 went to an Humble cemetery, dug up a man’s grave, left with the head and turned it into a “bong.””

- “3 accused of using corpse head to smoke pot,” Houston Chronicle, May 8, 2008

Rev. Billy versus the unnamed-in-this-video Danny Meyer....

Wed, 07 May 2008 07:56:08 -0400

Rev. Billy versus the unnamed-in-this-video Danny Meyer. Shufflin’ attended Rev. Billy’s Sunday May 4 service, “Publicizing the Privatizing,” at the Highline Ballroom, and was left encouraged by the message and the show of dedication and all that talent—but also slightly troubled by the fact that there were only a few more people in the audience than on the stage. What Would Jesus Buy?, Rev. Billy and the Stop Shopping Gospel Choir’s funny and sad film that documents their Christmastime tour of a country in the vice-like grip of materialism and greed, is available on DVD May 20.