mag
Heeb Issue #9 : Urban KvetchUrban Kvetch
The Dalai Lama, Costa Rica, Bill Murray and more!
The Dalai Lama
That’s right, you smirking little bastard—you were listed as treyf opposite Dolly Parton in our Spring issue. What’s the matter? Not getting as much attention now that the Falun Gong started putting on puppet shows in Union Square? Or are you bummed ‘cause you go through ghostwriters faster than Michael Jackson’s pantry goes through cookies and milk? Oh yeah, and Richard Gere sucks!
YID VICIOUS
Costa Rica
Now, I’ve got nothing against the people or even the land. The problem I have is with people who think they’re doing anything other than paying for the right to say they’re not at Miami Beach. You’re at a fucking Club Med, so drop the Indiana Jones routine. The closest you’re coming to adventure is when you’re staring out the window of your cab en route from the airport to your compound.
JON FEINSTEIN
Bill Murray
Rushmore was 1998—when are you going to stop taking off your shirt and jumping into a pool? It’s enough already. We get it. You’re out of shape. You’re middle-aged. It was funny for awhile. And enough with the tracksuits and the hot chicks. Julie Delpy and Scarlett Johansson wouldn’t give you the time of day no matter how many times you jumped into a pool. Couldn’t you just do a sequel to Quick Change?
THE GRAND CONSPIRATOR
Yellow Rubber Bracelets
A yellow rubber bracelet doesn’t make you a good person. You gave a dollar, not a kidney. If Lance Armstrong asked you to jump off the George Washington Bridge, would you do it? And now they come in orange, blue and magenta for everything from ADHD awareness to “save the spotted owls.” The ribbon pins were bad enough. What’s next, felt anklets?
CATIE LAZARUS
My Last Date
I don’t mind paying, but don’t pretend I have a choice. Motioning oh-so-innocently toward your purse and asking me if you can pay half is not a sincere offer. Rather, it is a dual warning: If I let you pay half, I am a jerk, and when I decline to take your money, you owe me nothing, since you “offered.” Despite the fact that you ordered an appetizer and a dessert along with your main course, I accept your terms. But, you could have at least insisted on leaving the tip.
DAVID KELSEY
“Untitled”
Oh, God, if I have to hear another band introduce a song by saying, “This song is called…‘Untitled.’” Like words cannot convey the depths of your emotions—they may have been good enough for Wordsworth or Tennyson, but not you and your crappy rip-off of Franz Ferdinand. As if the names of your other songs capture something other than the blathering platitudes of someone who got a B- in their poetry class at Sarah Lawrence.
ADAM BARUCHOWITZ
Girls Who Hang Out With Guys Cause Girls Are “Too Jealous”
We’re not jealous. You see, men only sit through your bullshit because they want to insert themselves inside of you. They will listen to you say things like, “I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual” or, “I try to keep a book of all the compliments people give me” or, “In college everyone used to just call me Hottie instead of Holly” and nod their heads as if you’re not a blathering idiot.
RACHEL FEINSTEIN
Staying in the Closet
Enough is enough. You’re thirty-plus and the overcompensating is getting to be a burden on us. I’m not going to set you up with straight chicks anymore. I’m just enabling. Gay life is better. Embrace it. Just think: You could be having a beautiful commitment ceremony in Cambridge this time next year. I know so many guys that would love to meet you. Come out. We’ll still love you.
JAKE ABRAHAM
Paperclipping your Check to your Subscription Card
Cut it out already. You put your check and business reply card together in an envelope and seal it. Period. Now you gotta paperclip them together like a paranoid schizophrenic? It’s a $22 dollar check, for God’s sake, not the cure for polio. You’re the same sick fuck who won’t leave the check at the table without weighing down the cash with the ketchup bottle, aren’t you?
JOSHUA NEUMAN
That’s right, you smirking little bastard—you were listed as treyf opposite Dolly Parton in our Spring issue. What’s the matter? Not getting as much attention now that the Falun Gong started putting on puppet shows in Union Square? Or are you bummed ‘cause you go through ghostwriters faster than Michael Jackson’s pantry goes through cookies and milk? Oh yeah, and Richard Gere sucks!
YID VICIOUS
Costa Rica
Now, I’ve got nothing against the people or even the land. The problem I have is with people who think they’re doing anything other than paying for the right to say they’re not at Miami Beach. You’re at a fucking Club Med, so drop the Indiana Jones routine. The closest you’re coming to adventure is when you’re staring out the window of your cab en route from the airport to your compound.
JON FEINSTEIN
Bill Murray
Rushmore was 1998—when are you going to stop taking off your shirt and jumping into a pool? It’s enough already. We get it. You’re out of shape. You’re middle-aged. It was funny for awhile. And enough with the tracksuits and the hot chicks. Julie Delpy and Scarlett Johansson wouldn’t give you the time of day no matter how many times you jumped into a pool. Couldn’t you just do a sequel to Quick Change?
THE GRAND CONSPIRATOR
Yellow Rubber Bracelets
A yellow rubber bracelet doesn’t make you a good person. You gave a dollar, not a kidney. If Lance Armstrong asked you to jump off the George Washington Bridge, would you do it? And now they come in orange, blue and magenta for everything from ADHD awareness to “save the spotted owls.” The ribbon pins were bad enough. What’s next, felt anklets?
CATIE LAZARUS
My Last Date
I don’t mind paying, but don’t pretend I have a choice. Motioning oh-so-innocently toward your purse and asking me if you can pay half is not a sincere offer. Rather, it is a dual warning: If I let you pay half, I am a jerk, and when I decline to take your money, you owe me nothing, since you “offered.” Despite the fact that you ordered an appetizer and a dessert along with your main course, I accept your terms. But, you could have at least insisted on leaving the tip.
DAVID KELSEY
“Untitled”
Oh, God, if I have to hear another band introduce a song by saying, “This song is called…‘Untitled.’” Like words cannot convey the depths of your emotions—they may have been good enough for Wordsworth or Tennyson, but not you and your crappy rip-off of Franz Ferdinand. As if the names of your other songs capture something other than the blathering platitudes of someone who got a B- in their poetry class at Sarah Lawrence.
ADAM BARUCHOWITZ
Girls Who Hang Out With Guys Cause Girls Are “Too Jealous”
We’re not jealous. You see, men only sit through your bullshit because they want to insert themselves inside of you. They will listen to you say things like, “I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual” or, “I try to keep a book of all the compliments people give me” or, “In college everyone used to just call me Hottie instead of Holly” and nod their heads as if you’re not a blathering idiot.
RACHEL FEINSTEIN
Staying in the Closet
Enough is enough. You’re thirty-plus and the overcompensating is getting to be a burden on us. I’m not going to set you up with straight chicks anymore. I’m just enabling. Gay life is better. Embrace it. Just think: You could be having a beautiful commitment ceremony in Cambridge this time next year. I know so many guys that would love to meet you. Come out. We’ll still love you.
JAKE ABRAHAM
Paperclipping your Check to your Subscription Card
Cut it out already. You put your check and business reply card together in an envelope and seal it. Period. Now you gotta paperclip them together like a paranoid schizophrenic? It’s a $22 dollar check, for God’s sake, not the cure for polio. You’re the same sick fuck who won’t leave the check at the table without weighing down the cash with the ketchup bottle, aren’t you?
JOSHUA NEUMAN
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