I saw on one of those find-someone web-sites that two women are looking for me. That's OK, unless one or more is schlepping along someone who calls me Daddy.
The one who's from Westlake HS is obviously Nancy V., from Thousand Oaks, CA, though she now lives in London. Another, A., is from Luton, the dumpy London suburban ring town where her husband lives.
What confuses me is who is in their 50s and from Asheville, NC, and who is also in their 50s and from Gaithersburg (I have an idea about this).
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The North Shall Rise Again
I stand corrected. Detroit and Chicago are playing each other in a real Central division line-up. This is about all the city can root for at this point. On the bright side, the "Carolin" Hurricanes are being destroyed by Pittsburgh, thus keeping hockey a northern sport as its supposed to be.
IN b-ball, the Lakers, a bunch of pansy-ass celebrities, will probably defeat Denver. In closely watched contests, both Cleveland and Orlando (die, die) have won one apiece in closely fought contests.
Remember, root for real cities. The other places are just locations for McMansions.
IN b-ball, the Lakers, a bunch of pansy-ass celebrities, will probably defeat Denver. In closely watched contests, both Cleveland and Orlando (die, die) have won one apiece in closely fought contests.
Remember, root for real cities. The other places are just locations for McMansions.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Cat's in the Cradle
Should playing "Cat's in the Cradle," willingly, be grounds for justifiable homicide? Someone corrected me when I said it was by Jim Croce, not Harry Chapin. Thanks.
"American Pie," on the other hand, should be destroyed by whomever touches it. Best thing about it were the movies it inspired.
The roofers and painters are gone now, so hopefully I'll never have to hear either one of these wretched sing-a-longs ever again.
"American Pie," on the other hand, should be destroyed by whomever touches it. Best thing about it were the movies it inspired.
The roofers and painters are gone now, so hopefully I'll never have to hear either one of these wretched sing-a-longs ever again.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Cities that should never have championship teams
Somebody correct me. The Detroit Red Wings are playing the Pittsburgh Penguins in some kind of hockey semi-final. So too, God help Me, are the Anaheim Mighty Ducks.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that nobody in Southern California cares about hockey. Unfortunately, with the expansion of the league teams like the Mighty Ducks (I'm told that the name comes from a movie: how Southern Cal apropos) now have enough baksheesh to purchase expensive foreign players and win.
Any hockey team that competes with surfing for attention shouldn't win. It is an act of God against God.
Who should win? Some kind of wretched place like Ottowa. Failing that, a real working class place like Detroit or Pittsburgh. These are cities that have almost no in-migration for jobs for years, and are made up of people who have been there for generations. They actually care about Hockey!
Last year was almost perfect in that it shut out trashy nouveu-rich Sunbelt "cities" like God help me Orlando (even more spread out than Atlanta). Detroit won in Hockey, and Boston in basketball. LA looks like they're going to win in b-ball, but that's OK, since LA has now become a real city through two of the most destructive riots in the nation's history.
Its joke-ass "places" like Carolina that should properly be hated. The football team and I guess basketball team (the Hurricanes?) should whither and die, because of this: since when is "Carolina" a place? North or South? East or West? They play in Charlotte, which bizarrely hopes to be the next Atlanta, which to me connotes that they mean to capture the ugly and worthless crown among the nation's cities.
So let's hear it for the places that care, for the places that generation on generation root for the same team: Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit, Milwaukee, and of course tiny Green Bay.
NOTE:
The non-performance of the Washington Nationals is of serious consequence. If another baseball team leaves the DC area it will be said, stupidly, that DC is "not a baseball town." But even with the new stadium, the team constantly ranks as (often) the worst team in baseball. The old saying was "Washington; first in war, first in peace, and last in the American League East."
But we're talking about a place that went from just over two million people when the Senators left in 1971 to a market of over five million now. That's right, the DC area is over twice the size it was then. It's the eighth largest media market in the nation. It's also, by some estimates, the wealthiest metro area in the nation: will area residents again have to make the pilgrimage to much smaller but protalitarian Baltimore for baseball?
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that nobody in Southern California cares about hockey. Unfortunately, with the expansion of the league teams like the Mighty Ducks (I'm told that the name comes from a movie: how Southern Cal apropos) now have enough baksheesh to purchase expensive foreign players and win.
Any hockey team that competes with surfing for attention shouldn't win. It is an act of God against God.
Who should win? Some kind of wretched place like Ottowa. Failing that, a real working class place like Detroit or Pittsburgh. These are cities that have almost no in-migration for jobs for years, and are made up of people who have been there for generations. They actually care about Hockey!
Last year was almost perfect in that it shut out trashy nouveu-rich Sunbelt "cities" like God help me Orlando (even more spread out than Atlanta). Detroit won in Hockey, and Boston in basketball. LA looks like they're going to win in b-ball, but that's OK, since LA has now become a real city through two of the most destructive riots in the nation's history.
Its joke-ass "places" like Carolina that should properly be hated. The football team and I guess basketball team (the Hurricanes?) should whither and die, because of this: since when is "Carolina" a place? North or South? East or West? They play in Charlotte, which bizarrely hopes to be the next Atlanta, which to me connotes that they mean to capture the ugly and worthless crown among the nation's cities.
So let's hear it for the places that care, for the places that generation on generation root for the same team: Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit, Milwaukee, and of course tiny Green Bay.
NOTE:
The non-performance of the Washington Nationals is of serious consequence. If another baseball team leaves the DC area it will be said, stupidly, that DC is "not a baseball town." But even with the new stadium, the team constantly ranks as (often) the worst team in baseball. The old saying was "Washington; first in war, first in peace, and last in the American League East."
But we're talking about a place that went from just over two million people when the Senators left in 1971 to a market of over five million now. That's right, the DC area is over twice the size it was then. It's the eighth largest media market in the nation. It's also, by some estimates, the wealthiest metro area in the nation: will area residents again have to make the pilgrimage to much smaller but protalitarian Baltimore for baseball?
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Philly History 102
The director of Philadelphia's tourism agency wants all guides to pass a basic proficiency exam (have I written on this before?).
As the Tourguide, I have taken and passed in a breeze the tests in New York and Washington. The questions are on the order of: what borough is Manhattan a part of?
In NY, the bureaucrat came out and said I'd scored about a 98 percent. So what? Its pass-fail. I didn't command any higher a salary than the guy who scored 71 percent.
The tourism director in Philly wrote down the real howlers that he heard. My favorite was that George Washington and Abraham Lincoln used to dine together at City Tavern.
First of all, that would have made Washington about 160 years old. Secondly, the circa 1773 tavern had been destroyed, only to be rebuilt as a tourist attraction about 100 years later.
All I can say is that it's a shame that the guide didn't note that Julius Caesar and Marcus Antonius broke bread there as well. What an orgy followed.
As the Tourguide, I have taken and passed in a breeze the tests in New York and Washington. The questions are on the order of: what borough is Manhattan a part of?
In NY, the bureaucrat came out and said I'd scored about a 98 percent. So what? Its pass-fail. I didn't command any higher a salary than the guy who scored 71 percent.
The tourism director in Philly wrote down the real howlers that he heard. My favorite was that George Washington and Abraham Lincoln used to dine together at City Tavern.
First of all, that would have made Washington about 160 years old. Secondly, the circa 1773 tavern had been destroyed, only to be rebuilt as a tourist attraction about 100 years later.
All I can say is that it's a shame that the guide didn't note that Julius Caesar and Marcus Antonius broke bread there as well. What an orgy followed.
Squirrly
A squirrel who would not leave the third floor bathroom. When approached, it would make a sound as much as possible like a dog growling.
Finally pushed it out with a broom. It kept squirrel-growling even outside. It guess it's flight-or-fight. What an entrenched behavior.
Finally pushed it out with a broom. It kept squirrel-growling even outside. It guess it's flight-or-fight. What an entrenched behavior.
Eight Miles High
Item in the NYT today (?) on how Anise (absinthe) is making a comback, since it is now legal again, despite the mildly hallucinogenic worm inside it.
I first had it in a dumpy, small Manhattan tenement apartment that nonetheless had access to a backyard on (about) E. 40th between 2nd and 3rd.
Some substance had to be burned through a sugar cube and a spoon with holes in it, then drank. It was also 70 proof.
I went out to the backyard, which was ringed by 40-story apartment buildings. They were massive, like redwoods. Pretty soon I found myself drifting upwards outside their balconies.
I must be a lightweight, because I felt pretty out of body. But it can't be that good if they are now selling it legally. And the high was over pretty damn quick.
Any experiences/recommendations out there in blogland?
I first had it in a dumpy, small Manhattan tenement apartment that nonetheless had access to a backyard on (about) E. 40th between 2nd and 3rd.
Some substance had to be burned through a sugar cube and a spoon with holes in it, then drank. It was also 70 proof.
I went out to the backyard, which was ringed by 40-story apartment buildings. They were massive, like redwoods. Pretty soon I found myself drifting upwards outside their balconies.
I must be a lightweight, because I felt pretty out of body. But it can't be that good if they are now selling it legally. And the high was over pretty damn quick.
Any experiences/recommendations out there in blogland?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
schlock-o-rama
Help! I'm being surrounded by bad songs from thirty years ago. The house painters have a boom-box from which issues: the Bee Gees, Don Henley, bad Rod Stewart, and various and sundry awful songs of all stripes. It is like when I listened to WABC 77 New York when growing up.
Only a few more days. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the songs, as long as they're schlock. Today or from 30 years ago. They are different from each other only in their titles and year of issue: they have in common one thing; they suck. A lot.
On the other hand, there are songs which you thought you'd never hear again, and don't mind hearing since you haven't heard them in years: Summer of 69, Boys of Summer, Forever Jung (I mean young).
On the other hand, there are tunes which should be banned by the Geneva Convention on torture, like the one playing now. Jim Croce's mind-bendingly awful "Cat's in the Cradle." If I hear American Pie I'm going to start pulling down their ladders.
The unifying characteristic of all the tunes is this: you've heard it before, over and over again. A new tune is greeted like the Black Death.
"She Drives Me Crazy" (me too), then a (comparitively) new song! "you found me" (I don't know the band, weird that it's semi-new though cornballish). Have to admire the guy's work ethic, since last week was so rainy, it's now 6:45 eastern time.
The painter's truck is parked right in our front yard, so he can get the lift up to the third floor. Give me Sanctuary!
I guess the whole idea is to sing along to music you've heard so many times before. NTT snob David Brooks says that one difference between the middle and upper-middle class is that the latter is always looking for new experience, whereas the former is looking for what is familiar.
"I can dream about you (if I can't hold you tonight)" is playing. Please help me from jumping off the third floor balcony.
Only a few more days. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the songs, as long as they're schlock. Today or from 30 years ago. They are different from each other only in their titles and year of issue: they have in common one thing; they suck. A lot.
On the other hand, there are songs which you thought you'd never hear again, and don't mind hearing since you haven't heard them in years: Summer of 69, Boys of Summer, Forever Jung (I mean young).
On the other hand, there are tunes which should be banned by the Geneva Convention on torture, like the one playing now. Jim Croce's mind-bendingly awful "Cat's in the Cradle." If I hear American Pie I'm going to start pulling down their ladders.
The unifying characteristic of all the tunes is this: you've heard it before, over and over again. A new tune is greeted like the Black Death.
"She Drives Me Crazy" (me too), then a (comparitively) new song! "you found me" (I don't know the band, weird that it's semi-new though cornballish). Have to admire the guy's work ethic, since last week was so rainy, it's now 6:45 eastern time.
The painter's truck is parked right in our front yard, so he can get the lift up to the third floor. Give me Sanctuary!
I guess the whole idea is to sing along to music you've heard so many times before. NTT snob David Brooks says that one difference between the middle and upper-middle class is that the latter is always looking for new experience, whereas the former is looking for what is familiar.
"I can dream about you (if I can't hold you tonight)" is playing. Please help me from jumping off the third floor balcony.
Monday, May 11, 2009
A Dissedent is Here
The USA is the greatest country in the world. Why? Because we tolerate dissent in the pursuit of a democratic society.
You don't have to be Borat to poke holes in everything written above. So far, we are a chickenshit society in two ways: limiting big money in Washington, and curtailing manifestly stupid peoples' idea that freedom translates into shooting everyone around them.
Family friend Fred Werthemier devoted his entire professional life to limiting the influence of big money on Washington. Werthemier edited "Common Cause" for years trying to restrict big bux in DC. Unfortunately, he and the rest of us failed (by not coming to see how important the issue is) in a supposedly representative democracy.
I write fairly often of my Alma Mater in this space, and some might think it strange or weird to harp on the University of Wisconsin's role in the anti-Vietnam war movement. But the reason is this: students at my college helped stop an anti-democratic war that was forced on it by the executive branch. Sound familiar, Iraq vets?
In my time there, in a footnote to history, the largest demonstration occurred after Reagan decided, briefly, to put American troops in Honduras, just outside the Nicaragua border. Two thousand students immediately marched on the state capitol building (a convenient eight blocks from the campus).
There's still the question of what such a government would do if really threatened (say a demonstration that aimed at taking over the White House and Congress). All I know right now is that my grandmother, the 93-year-old Lindy Boggs, would be shot dead if she came out in favor of gun control.
She would be on her best behavior, as always, but some courageous second amendment (second clause) defender would kill her before she said "darlin, I like huntin the same as anyone else, but I don't think you need an AK-47 to do it."
As Bob Herbert said in the (communist) NYT a few weeks ago "this country is both too irresponsible and immature to pass real gun control measures."
Kill him, he might be right.
Do anything to undermine this threat to representative democracy. Lie down in front of their (Fairfax, Va.) Headquarters. Stop traffic in and out. Throw red paint on vehicles coming in and out. Eggs, turds whatever. These people work for an organization that is worse than communist Russia in the Gulag.
It might take a long time (it will) but no matter the repression, no matter who is killed by a decent asshole citizen just tryin to make a livin, block them. I will probably be killed in the process, and so will you.
Defend America, and bring the war to the warmakers. For many Americans, that means you.
You don't have to be Borat to poke holes in everything written above. So far, we are a chickenshit society in two ways: limiting big money in Washington, and curtailing manifestly stupid peoples' idea that freedom translates into shooting everyone around them.
Family friend Fred Werthemier devoted his entire professional life to limiting the influence of big money on Washington. Werthemier edited "Common Cause" for years trying to restrict big bux in DC. Unfortunately, he and the rest of us failed (by not coming to see how important the issue is) in a supposedly representative democracy.
I write fairly often of my Alma Mater in this space, and some might think it strange or weird to harp on the University of Wisconsin's role in the anti-Vietnam war movement. But the reason is this: students at my college helped stop an anti-democratic war that was forced on it by the executive branch. Sound familiar, Iraq vets?
In my time there, in a footnote to history, the largest demonstration occurred after Reagan decided, briefly, to put American troops in Honduras, just outside the Nicaragua border. Two thousand students immediately marched on the state capitol building (a convenient eight blocks from the campus).
There's still the question of what such a government would do if really threatened (say a demonstration that aimed at taking over the White House and Congress). All I know right now is that my grandmother, the 93-year-old Lindy Boggs, would be shot dead if she came out in favor of gun control.
She would be on her best behavior, as always, but some courageous second amendment (second clause) defender would kill her before she said "darlin, I like huntin the same as anyone else, but I don't think you need an AK-47 to do it."
As Bob Herbert said in the (communist) NYT a few weeks ago "this country is both too irresponsible and immature to pass real gun control measures."
Kill him, he might be right.
Do anything to undermine this threat to representative democracy. Lie down in front of their (Fairfax, Va.) Headquarters. Stop traffic in and out. Throw red paint on vehicles coming in and out. Eggs, turds whatever. These people work for an organization that is worse than communist Russia in the Gulag.
It might take a long time (it will) but no matter the repression, no matter who is killed by a decent asshole citizen just tryin to make a livin, block them. I will probably be killed in the process, and so will you.
Defend America, and bring the war to the warmakers. For many Americans, that means you.
Kegsy McKensie
Yeah, yeah I've heard it all: Scott Wilkerson had a great gig Saturday night. Here's the spoiler: I had an even better one.
First of all, I got a full half keg. Then I invited the neighborhood teens to come over. Though I heard them saying my name and using the words "Geek" and "Total Loser," they came anyhow, because they knew I had the goods.
Anyone familiar with my past posts know how the craziness started. I had a couple of dudes lift the keg, then aim a blowtorch through the bottom. After they had blown a hole through the bottom, I did what I do best: I shotgunned the entire half-keg while the teens lifted the container over my mouth.
Let's see Wilkie compared to that. Let's see that wimp take on even a Heineken Pony-Keg. Although maybe five dudes showed up (no chicks, no way) they still worshipped me, even after the five of them took the keg back to their places. Soon I will send out a photo. It's of me and the keg. It says "Dave and Friend." I can't think of a cooler representation, can you?
Yours in kegliness,
Dave
First of all, I got a full half keg. Then I invited the neighborhood teens to come over. Though I heard them saying my name and using the words "Geek" and "Total Loser," they came anyhow, because they knew I had the goods.
Anyone familiar with my past posts know how the craziness started. I had a couple of dudes lift the keg, then aim a blowtorch through the bottom. After they had blown a hole through the bottom, I did what I do best: I shotgunned the entire half-keg while the teens lifted the container over my mouth.
Let's see Wilkie compared to that. Let's see that wimp take on even a Heineken Pony-Keg. Although maybe five dudes showed up (no chicks, no way) they still worshipped me, even after the five of them took the keg back to their places. Soon I will send out a photo. It's of me and the keg. It says "Dave and Friend." I can't think of a cooler representation, can you?
Yours in kegliness,
Dave
Enemy on the Road
If you have every walked along a busy suburban road that has no sidewalk, you'll identify with this post.
I was dropped off by a public bus in the suburban area north of Princeton at a shelter. When I tried to come back the other way, there were no signs for a stop, much less a structure.
Trying to keep yourself as close to the curb as possible, you are acutely aware of the fact that traffic weighing many tons going 50 mph is passing with no obstacle between it and your puny body. Only a white stripe is there, painted as a breakdown lane, which is about eight feet across and can be violated as easily as when a driver swerves trying to change radio stations.
The American suburbs are not only indifferent to pedestrians, they are actively hostile towards them. Many areas have seen immigrants killed while walking along these high-speed routes, as they are guilty of being un-American by being poor and not driving while servicing areas where people are and do neither.
The strange thing is the role-reversal you go through when on the other side of the windshield. Pedestrians do look strange and cast-out in the highway environment. Bicyclists speak of people yelling at them to get off the road.
Put two tons of aluminum and steel around you or get out of the way! A pedestrian, meaning simply a human being, is demonized because it is foreign to the whole landscape. It is too real, too small and too soft in a fake plastic and metal environment. How dare it get in the way of what you have become, which is a heavy and fast machine.
The convenience of cars is unbeatable, but put in sidewalks and bus stops that are not miles between.
I was dropped off by a public bus in the suburban area north of Princeton at a shelter. When I tried to come back the other way, there were no signs for a stop, much less a structure.
Trying to keep yourself as close to the curb as possible, you are acutely aware of the fact that traffic weighing many tons going 50 mph is passing with no obstacle between it and your puny body. Only a white stripe is there, painted as a breakdown lane, which is about eight feet across and can be violated as easily as when a driver swerves trying to change radio stations.
The American suburbs are not only indifferent to pedestrians, they are actively hostile towards them. Many areas have seen immigrants killed while walking along these high-speed routes, as they are guilty of being un-American by being poor and not driving while servicing areas where people are and do neither.
The strange thing is the role-reversal you go through when on the other side of the windshield. Pedestrians do look strange and cast-out in the highway environment. Bicyclists speak of people yelling at them to get off the road.
Put two tons of aluminum and steel around you or get out of the way! A pedestrian, meaning simply a human being, is demonized because it is foreign to the whole landscape. It is too real, too small and too soft in a fake plastic and metal environment. How dare it get in the way of what you have become, which is a heavy and fast machine.
The convenience of cars is unbeatable, but put in sidewalks and bus stops that are not miles between.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
But Everyone Calls Me Psycho
Sad story but a weird twist. A beautiful student at Wesleyan, 20 or 21, is shot to death at a bookstore by campus. The guy, 29, is the son of a prominent businessman and had briefly dated and was totally obsessed with her; a million e-mails, calls etc. A sailor who had served with him said that some people called him, during a hitch in the Navy, "Psycho Steve."
I can't even remember whether I have shared my idea for a great nightmare date for a magazine article, though it might be better in video.
Here's the gist: get a single woman who is perhaps co-workers with friends of yours. Have them tell her that there's a really nice guy they know who's looking to date. Tell the woman only that he's good looking and successful, but is "kind of shy."
Have the woman meet you at a coffee shop or a diner for lunch.
Here's the crucial part: seat her facing out toward the restaurant. Beforehand, you will have told everyone in the diner that you are staging a prank, and that they should act "normal" when you come in.
Well, after she's seated, you come in; wearing a ski mask.
"Hi, you must be Susie; I'm John (or whatever)." Sit down quickly, so she can't immediately escape. For extra points, have the staff greet you familiarly, as in "Hi, John, what's up?" You behave totally normally, as if nothing is remiss.
Here's the question: would most women go out (and stay out) on a date with a guy wearing a ski mask? More extra points if you wrap the mask around your neck with electrical tape.
If not, try one of those swine-flu masks people were wearing in Mexico. It could be the next cool thing.
I can't even remember whether I have shared my idea for a great nightmare date for a magazine article, though it might be better in video.
Here's the gist: get a single woman who is perhaps co-workers with friends of yours. Have them tell her that there's a really nice guy they know who's looking to date. Tell the woman only that he's good looking and successful, but is "kind of shy."
Have the woman meet you at a coffee shop or a diner for lunch.
Here's the crucial part: seat her facing out toward the restaurant. Beforehand, you will have told everyone in the diner that you are staging a prank, and that they should act "normal" when you come in.
Well, after she's seated, you come in; wearing a ski mask.
"Hi, you must be Susie; I'm John (or whatever)." Sit down quickly, so she can't immediately escape. For extra points, have the staff greet you familiarly, as in "Hi, John, what's up?" You behave totally normally, as if nothing is remiss.
Here's the question: would most women go out (and stay out) on a date with a guy wearing a ski mask? More extra points if you wrap the mask around your neck with electrical tape.
If not, try one of those swine-flu masks people were wearing in Mexico. It could be the next cool thing.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Be Careful of What You Wish Fer
I ego-searched myself on Google and came away with one guy on facebook (the lead) in LA. Since I don't belong to that ridiculous high-school popularity contest, that's as far as I got. There is still the indie-filmmaker in Canada, ironically the same guy whom I thought that I thought would make a great film about tracking down and killing (see "Killing my Doppelganger" way back in the past somewhere).
Then again, there was the same-name guy who was run down in a Wal-Mart parking lot in PA. Sorry, pal.
Then again, there was the same-name guy who was run down in a Wal-Mart parking lot in PA. Sorry, pal.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Hidden in a Corner
It's a black iron statue of two figures set in a little-trafficked alcove outside the Princeton University Chapel, which is really a huge cathedral where my mother's funeral service was held: Abraham about to slay a kneeling, bound Isaac, to show his obedience to God by sacrificing his only son. In the Old Testament, an angel stops Abraham at the last moment.
You have to look at the wall on the mighty stone edifice to see why the sculpture is there. It says "In memory of the four students killed at Kent State University on May 4, 1970."
Why it's at Princeton I don't know. Some say it was too controversial for the Ohio campus.
It is supposed to be symbolic of the older generation sacrificing the younger, of the 58,000 mostly very young dead American soldiers in Vietnam. But the national guardsmen who did the shooting were just like those in southeast Asia, young themselves, and scared and confused.
There are those who say that incident proves that the American government is no different from any other state; that when threatened it will react with repression and violence.
It was during this period that my grandfather, House Majority Leader at the time, suspected his phone was being tapped by the FBI. He had been critical of the agency and especially Hoover for infiltrating student and left-wing groups with spies and informants.
Kent State was and is not known for being radical or even liberal, but Nixon had just invaded an area known as "The Parrot's Beak" for the way it sticks into Vietnam only 20 miles or so from Saigon. People thought the war was spreading.
Actually, that area should have been invaded at the beginning of the war, just the way the Ho Chi Mihn Trail should have been cut. I'm sure at any war college, they'd pretty much tell you that allowing an enemy sanctuary 20 miles from your capital is not a good idea militarily, just as allowing them an undisturbed supply line (except for bombing) in Laos was ludicrous (as was the total fallacy that Laos was neutral).
But the question remains: how free is the US government? Would it lash out violently at its citizens if really threatened? Without newspapers, would we be too busy watching "American Idol" to care?
You have to look at the wall on the mighty stone edifice to see why the sculpture is there. It says "In memory of the four students killed at Kent State University on May 4, 1970."
Why it's at Princeton I don't know. Some say it was too controversial for the Ohio campus.
It is supposed to be symbolic of the older generation sacrificing the younger, of the 58,000 mostly very young dead American soldiers in Vietnam. But the national guardsmen who did the shooting were just like those in southeast Asia, young themselves, and scared and confused.
There are those who say that incident proves that the American government is no different from any other state; that when threatened it will react with repression and violence.
It was during this period that my grandfather, House Majority Leader at the time, suspected his phone was being tapped by the FBI. He had been critical of the agency and especially Hoover for infiltrating student and left-wing groups with spies and informants.
Kent State was and is not known for being radical or even liberal, but Nixon had just invaded an area known as "The Parrot's Beak" for the way it sticks into Vietnam only 20 miles or so from Saigon. People thought the war was spreading.
Actually, that area should have been invaded at the beginning of the war, just the way the Ho Chi Mihn Trail should have been cut. I'm sure at any war college, they'd pretty much tell you that allowing an enemy sanctuary 20 miles from your capital is not a good idea militarily, just as allowing them an undisturbed supply line (except for bombing) in Laos was ludicrous (as was the total fallacy that Laos was neutral).
But the question remains: how free is the US government? Would it lash out violently at its citizens if really threatened? Without newspapers, would we be too busy watching "American Idol" to care?
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Splendor in the Sod
Walked by the fenced-off northwest corner of Washington Square Park in NY. Actual deep-green sod planted in the formerly threadbare hard-baked surface. Remembering rolling around laughing my ass off in that needle-and-piss stained earth with Rambler back in college.
The Hoog was questioning us about, uh, self-abuse. Did we do it a lot? Every day, at least. Sometimes out of pure boredom. The Hoog innocent and surprised, though he'd later deny it and say he was joking. Only someone without brothers or a present father (sorry) would be so taken-aback.
The Hoog would later come into his own (sorry again)in sampling the female portions of various nations and ethnicities in Bklyn. He said he was trying to make up for high-school lameness. Rambler would finally tell him "you've made up for all the way back to second-grade."
Here were some of Hoog's status reports: black girls - exactly the same as white ones, no matter what the legends. Hispanics or Latinas - dedicated to your enjoyment, especially in Cuba, which I must credit he visited even though Americans were not supposed to.
As he said at the time "color in another country on the atlas."
I bear him no ill will. I just hope he is making his wife, whom I guess I can say I am acquainted, happy.
The Hoog was questioning us about, uh, self-abuse. Did we do it a lot? Every day, at least. Sometimes out of pure boredom. The Hoog innocent and surprised, though he'd later deny it and say he was joking. Only someone without brothers or a present father (sorry) would be so taken-aback.
The Hoog would later come into his own (sorry again)in sampling the female portions of various nations and ethnicities in Bklyn. He said he was trying to make up for high-school lameness. Rambler would finally tell him "you've made up for all the way back to second-grade."
Here were some of Hoog's status reports: black girls - exactly the same as white ones, no matter what the legends. Hispanics or Latinas - dedicated to your enjoyment, especially in Cuba, which I must credit he visited even though Americans were not supposed to.
As he said at the time "color in another country on the atlas."
I bear him no ill will. I just hope he is making his wife, whom I guess I can say I am acquainted, happy.
Dirt Behind the Daydream
More plotting on how to bring the war to the warmakers. Anyone who's read this space before knows I mean the NRA. What's left to illustrate the carnage that this lobby glorifies as the ultimate democratic freedom; the ability to end someone's life with a gun?
Watching the War at Home documentary for tips in the Vietnam-era protests in Madison, where protesters put a huge coffin on the steps of the Army Math Research Center (later blown up with a huge homemade bomb) and planted a field of fake World War I-style cemetery crosses on the hill in the center of campus to mark the war dead.
How to choke the entrance of the NRA with homemade coffins for all the gun-murders of a certain year? How to make their immaculately manicured grass spring thousands of grave markers? The NRA property is doubtless private, unlike a state university in Wisconsin.
Then the exhibit at the Woodrow Wilson school of public policy at Princeton. Photos of what was claimed to be the 39 percent (!) of the population that has guns in their households. NRA members are only 1.5 percent of the population, so I need to double-check this statistic (it may be 39 percent of households, but that's still a huge number).
What got me were these kind of punk-rock dudes that enjoyed owning and brandishing guns for the camera. Here's a communique to you, assholes. You are not being a rebel by owning a gun in America, you are being the worst kind of conformist jackass.
Right, I get it, when the squares want to crack down on your "lifestyle," you'll be able to respond in kind. You and the middle-aged, pot-bellied Michigan militia. Real hip dudes.
The other thing that struck me was how many people (often women) who got turned on by being brought to a shooting range. It's the feeling of power that surges through you, I know.
The (gay) reporter who sat next to me at the Trenton Times told me he felt like God when he fired a gun at a range. This was a guy that suffered HIV symptoms and was as gentle and funny a soul as you can imagine. Still, even him.
May God strike us down for stealing his fire, just like the ancient Greeks and their Gods. See the ruins of their civilization on top of the Acropolis. Looks just like Capitol Hill.
Watching the War at Home documentary for tips in the Vietnam-era protests in Madison, where protesters put a huge coffin on the steps of the Army Math Research Center (later blown up with a huge homemade bomb) and planted a field of fake World War I-style cemetery crosses on the hill in the center of campus to mark the war dead.
How to choke the entrance of the NRA with homemade coffins for all the gun-murders of a certain year? How to make their immaculately manicured grass spring thousands of grave markers? The NRA property is doubtless private, unlike a state university in Wisconsin.
Then the exhibit at the Woodrow Wilson school of public policy at Princeton. Photos of what was claimed to be the 39 percent (!) of the population that has guns in their households. NRA members are only 1.5 percent of the population, so I need to double-check this statistic (it may be 39 percent of households, but that's still a huge number).
What got me were these kind of punk-rock dudes that enjoyed owning and brandishing guns for the camera. Here's a communique to you, assholes. You are not being a rebel by owning a gun in America, you are being the worst kind of conformist jackass.
Right, I get it, when the squares want to crack down on your "lifestyle," you'll be able to respond in kind. You and the middle-aged, pot-bellied Michigan militia. Real hip dudes.
The other thing that struck me was how many people (often women) who got turned on by being brought to a shooting range. It's the feeling of power that surges through you, I know.
The (gay) reporter who sat next to me at the Trenton Times told me he felt like God when he fired a gun at a range. This was a guy that suffered HIV symptoms and was as gentle and funny a soul as you can imagine. Still, even him.
May God strike us down for stealing his fire, just like the ancient Greeks and their Gods. See the ruins of their civilization on top of the Acropolis. Looks just like Capitol Hill.
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