January 06, 2004

And now: something I find peculiarly annoying.

It's been awhile since I regularly partook of the delights of the New York Subway system. I moved from the city over a year ago, and these days I don't really leave the immediate vicinity of my downtown office building.

Recently I've had to travel to Queens every other week, using the familiar R line, and I have experienced anew the ever-changing parade of advertisement posters that line the station walls. And I have become fascinated and irritated by the monkey-like idiocy of Luis Jimenez and Moonshadow.

Here: let's look closer, shall we? This meager image doesn't do the whole 5x4 foot poster justice, but it will have to suffice.

I'm not a part of LA MEGA!!!!'s demographic (and you must shout LA MEGA!!!! in a Spanish accent every time you read it), so maybe I'm missing something here. Clearly, LA MEGA!!!! 97.9 FM is one of those stations that gives you piles of cash if you can work your primate fingers fast enough to dial in to the station at just the right time.

But what they hell is up with these people? Jimenez looks like he's having an orgasm as he is subsumed beneath piles of LA MEGA!!!! cash. Moonshadow also looks like he's having one in the background there, although he seems to be a bit farther along in the process. And...Moonshadow? What the hell kind of radio moniker is that? Moonshadow. Does he look like a "Moonshadow" to you? Moonshadow is a name for Cat Stevens songs, New Age Boutiques, and Wiccan wanna-be witches, not graying morning-show sidekicks trying to be hip in the burgeoning Spanish-language radio market with their curved baseball cap-brims and their scruffy goatees that make them look fat.

Every time I see this poster--and it's everywhere--I just want to boot each of them in the face. I am very pleased that they have been repeatedly humiliated via appropriately placed graffiti-penises.

For some reason, these two are even more annoying the the endless parade of genetically engineered blowjob dwarfs that Butch Belair has designed to sell Steve Madden's shoes. Those things are downright creepy...little malformed fuckpixies, all looking so lost and waify and Take Me Home, but after you get them home and use them once or twice and toss them in the closet you wake up one night tied to the bed while they slice your skin off with a straight razor and eat it. Blech! Get away. Honest to god, if I'm ever in some freaky Twilight Zone episode where print advertisements start to come alive one by one, I'm going after these malnourished distorted hellspawn with a shotgun before they ever get a chance to puff up and peel off the wall.

Goddamn freaky mutant shoe-selling demon elves...everywhere! Everywhere! EVERYWH--

My goodness.

Terribly sorry. Uh...anyway, those radio guys, they're sure dumb-looking.

I have to go and find my medication.