Oddly enough, Moses was on the 5:46 to Mount Kisco last night. He left these behind…which, come to think of it, is a transgression of Commandment #4.

1. Thou shalt leave the seat next to thou unadorned with books and bags until the train starts moving, thus making it available for fellow riders. Once the train starts moving, it’s OK to put thou’s crap there.

2. Thou shalt not stare at thou’s mobile device and impede the progress of the group while walking to and from the train.

3. Thou shalt emphasis the “personal” in personal music devices by keeping thou’s iPod volume at a reasonable level. Thou may enjoy Insane Clown Posse. We, however, do not.

4. Thou shalt dispose of thou’s garbage, be it beer cans, coffee cups or newspapers. C’mon, folks, this isn’t Shea Stadium.

5. Thou shalt not engage in personal grooming activities, such as flossing and nose-hair trimming, on the train. Applying makeup is OK, I guess.

6. Thou shalt not place soaking wet umbrellas and raincoats in the overhead rack so that they drip on fellow riders’ heads.

7. Thou shalt not snore. We’ll affix a Breathe-Rite strip to thine nose if we have to. Don’t think we won’t.

8. Thou shalt use thy cellphone only for essential calls, and only then with thou’s inside voice. Thou shalt not pore through thine phone book looking for people to call to kill time. Uh, read or something. There are plenty of free papers out there.

9. Thou shalt have thy ticket ready for the conductor. Imagine thou is the conductor. How frustrated would thou be to have to wait for someone to fish their ticket or pass from their pocket? Thou knows the guy is coming.

10. Thou shalt not let thy leg, shoulder or elbow cross the invisible line in between seats. Unless, of course, thou is particularly large, in which case thou should drive.

[The Commuter’s Ten Commandments originally ran in June.]

[photos: Jesuswalk.com, Ithinked.com, blog61.fc.2.com, geocities.com, alibaba.com]

The minute-by-minute breakdown of how the man across the aisle from me on the 6:59 spent his 33 minutes on the train.

7:01 Makes cellphone call, tells pal “I can get to White Plains in 23 minutes.” Accent hard to place, perhaps French. Pink shirt, blond hair, 45.

7:02 Loses call as the train takes off.

7:03 Stares at phone.

7:04 Takes Blackberry out of worn leather briefcase, stares at it.

7:05 Stares at both devices side by side.

7:05 Takes cash out of pocket, buys ticket.  

7:06 Stares at Blackberry.

7:07 Taps email into Blackberry.

7:08 Stares at cellphone longingly. Desperately wishes for service.

7:08 This is kind of weird. I’d been listing to the album “Pressure Chief” on my iPod. The second track comes on. It’s called, fittingly, “No Phone”.

Sample lyrics:

No phone No phone I just want to be alone today
No phone no phone
Ringing stinging
Jerking like a nervous bird
Rattling up against his cage 

7:08 Has reception, makes call. Tells pal “I left at 6:59, or maybe 6:58, and I’ll be in White Plains at 7:23.”

[Editor’s Note: He’s wrong. He gets in at 7:30.]

7:10 Hangs up phone.

7:11 Dials Blackberry

7:11:30 Stares at Blackberry, places it to ear. Checks voicemail.

7:12 “No Phone” ends.

7:13 Hangs up Blackberry.

7:14 Pulls out cellphone, tells pal, “We left at 6:59. Or 6:58.”

7:15 Checks email on Blackberry while on cell with pal.

7:17 Puts Blackberry in briefcase on seat next to him.

Over/Under on Blackbery staying in briefcase: two minutes.

7:18 Takes Blackberry out. Still on cellphone. 

7:18:30 Puts Blackberry back in briefcase.

Over/Under 1 minute.

7:19 Hangs up cell. Punches in new numbers.

7:20 Hangs up cell again.

7:20:30 Stares at cell, contemplating next move.

7:21 Makes call on cell.

7:21 Blackberry comes out. Left hand holds Blackberry, right hand holds cell.

7:22 Hangs up cell. Calls Blackberry. No answer.

7:23 Sends email on Blackberry.

7:24 Holds Blackberry and cell side by side. Seems to be thinking, if I were trapped on a desert island with only one of you, which would it be? Appears pained by the thought. Cheers visibly after reminding self it was only a hypothetical question.

7:26 Puts Blackberry away

7:27 Puts cellphone away

7:28 Fidgets: Strokes chin, runs fingers through blond hair, using window as a mirror. Straightens tie.

7:30 Takes cellphone out of bag, stares at.

7:31 Stands up, puts coat on, raises collar.

7:32 Exits at White Plains.

Since many find the MTA’s service advisories to be delinquent enough to not even be useful, the Times reports on Clever Commute, a free service with Blackberry updates on delays for New Jersey Transit, Metro-North and the L.I.R.R.

Clever Commute was started by an IT guy named Joshua Crandall in January 2006, who says he simply wanted to meet other commuters (Insert joke about lonely IT guys here.)

Like many citizen-journalism/user-generated content things today, Clever relies on riders to email each other updates, from train delays to someone simply seeing a car with its lights on in the station parking lot.

I just signed up, which took all of about a minute. We’ll see how it works.  

I knew this day was gonna come. The Blackberry–the magic talisman through which I’m able to sit through a 45-minute (or 90-minute, should it rain a little) train ride, shat the bed last night.

 It’d been a late night at work. Work paid for dinner. We got BBQ from Duke’s. The pulled pork was divine.

It was also enormous, so I sealed it off–or so I thought–in its Tupperware container to bring home. I threw the whole shebang in an old Duane Reade bag saved expressly for these purposes, slung my sack over my shoulder, and headed for the train.

Once on board, I went for my Blackberry in the bottom of my bag. Alas, the rich brown barbecue sauce from the Duke’s pulled pork sandwich had leaked out of the Tupperware and through the hapless Duane Reade bag, which featured more holes than a pair of Adam Sandler’s socks.

I had a blank screen.

I tried everything I could think of: Removing and replacing the battery, hitting each and every key, addressing Melchizadek, the patron saint of busted Blackberrys.

Nothing worked.

Eventually, I got the icons back on the home screen, but no keyboard, no wheel thingy.

No nothin’. I feel so early-2007.

ICLOD: \AYE-klodd\ noun: A person who holds up the line on the train platform or staircase because they’re checking emails on their Blackberry or searching for the perfect song on their iPod.

Usage: I would’ve made the 6:52 to Mount Kisco, but this iClod slowed things down just enough on the ramp to Track 23. to make me miss.  

Your guest editor is of a geekier bent than your regular virtual conductor, so here’s my favorite train-related tech tip. Did you know that the MTA’s Web site contains its own version of the Big Board — the Grand Central Terminal departure info displayed on monitors around the station?

Of course you didn’t. That’s because the MTA’s Web site is designed as if its main aim is to hide information about the workings of our transit system from from al Qaeda.

It’s there though. Even better, it updates on its own in real time! Here’s the link:

http://as0.mta.info/mnr/html/bigboard.cfm

OK so that’s all well and good - but here’s the real tip. Take this post and email it to your favorite mobile device. Then click on the link above. If your handheld is cool enough (I know this works on a Treo at least, I don’t see why it shouldn’t work on a Blackberry as well) you’ll have your own personal Big Board that you can consult for track info as you approach the station. (Be sure to bookmark it for future reference.)

With this weapon in your commuting arsenal you’ll no longer need to weave through the the clot of amateurs staring blankly at the monitors as you bust through the terminal doors at 6:17:3o trying to make the 6:18. Instead you can run straight to the beer guy and hope there isn’t a line.

Much has been made of the demise of the newspaper: people get their news from Google and Yahoo, their jobs and used tennis rackets from Craigslist. But Gorgeous Francis of Mamaroneck posits another reason why the paper is going the way of the wine cooler.

While Engine Bob shared what it was like to commute 50 years ago, Francis says commuting on the New Haven line just three years ago was a different experience. The morning ride featured the crackle and twitter of people reading the Times and Wall Street Journal (no, never the Journal News, he says).

But today, the sound is gone. They don’t read the paper anymore. They play with their Blackberrys, reading and sending “important” emails and reaching for record scores in Brickbreaker.

On my beloved (OK, beliked) Harlem line, I see plenty of Blackberrys, but plenty of newspapers too. Even the Journal News.

In my long-weekend giddiness last week, I forgot about this guy. President’s Day weekend had officially begun on Friday’s 5:27. The guy across the aisle–40, non-descript, flashiest thing about him his Burberry scarf–was yapping on his cellphone while quaffing a gigantic coffee from Junior’s in Grand Central. He was pulling off the multi-tasking triathlon: the laptop, the Blackberry, the phone. Into the latter, he spoke:

“We like his resume, but I didn’t know what to baseline him against.”

Two questions. Why would a man drink a gigantic coffee from Junior’s at 5:30 on the eve of a long weekend, and what the f*&% does “baseline” mean? That’s a tennis thing, right?

I knew I should’ve gone to business school.