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Post Lite August 31, 2004 ~ 4:44 pm

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Okay, you finally get to see the view from the top of Brooklyn. Out in New York Harbor, over the statue’s right shoulder, is the Statue of Liberty. They’re hailing each other, which I love. And all credit for this photo goes to Rick, who took it. Blame him for me not having more happy pictures of Brooklyn to post, since I’m going to his house tonight and won’t have access to my laptop to upload. You’re gonna have to wait to see those.

So, happy post. Post lite. Non-political post. Almost. Mom gets to meet Teresa Heinz Kerry through her work, and I’m extremely jealous. I want to meet THK. Mom is also working a phone bank for John Kerry. I should also do that.

Other than politics. It’s tax-free week here in NYC (wonder why they picked this week? hmmm.) on clothing and shoes, so Lori and I are hitting the Skechers store and Gap tomorrow. Might as well take advantage of Mayor Mike’s generosity and take care of some of the winter wardrobe. My only question: how come I can’t get tax-free office and pet supplies? Is that asking too much? A tax-free visit to Target would make my year.

What else? I had a dream last night which I remember very clearly. Not an unusual occurrence. What was unusual was that it was a Def Leppard dream. Yeah, baby. Steph was there, and we found out that not only were the Leps having a concert on September 18, we were getting rewarded with a new Lep recording. Some old stuff, some new stuff, all rocking. And how did we find this out, you may ask? By meeting Phil Collen in Central Park (I don’t know, don’t ask), who told us and then got us backstage passes for the show. Joe Elliott was there, but he was an ass to us. Par for the course, eh, Steph? Overall, a very good dream. Much better than the dream I had Saturday night about going to a Liberace concert. I blame that on the Mexican we had for dinner.

Tomorrow…my thoughts on the Governator’s speech, a possible rant about NYC busses that serve two high schools and a college, making me wonder why I don’t find a better means of transport, and maybe a mini-post. If the tide of students isn’t as bad as today.

Moment of Zen: seen in the campus newspaper today: “The Writing Intensive course will finally answer the age old question of possessive comas: Do they belong before of after the ’s’?” Taken verbatim, folks. Not only the writer but his editor should obviously take the writing intensive course so they will know that possessives are indicated by apostrophes, not commas, and that “comas” are not a part of English grammar. Or shouldn’t be, at any rate.

The “Let’s Re-Write the Constitution as We See Fit” Party August 31, 2004 ~ 12:30 pm

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I know, I know. I said I wasn’t going to talk politics today. But I’m finally making my way through The New York Times today - work is insane, keeping me from the news and blogging - and reading the description of the Republican Party Platform. Things I disagree with:

Let me tell you a little story about Social Security under the Republicans. My father died when I was a little under two years old. He was 59, and had served as an Army Air Corpsman in World War II. As his child, I was entitled to Social Security benefits to help my mom support me. I got them until I was 18. Might seem like a nice long time. However, pre-Reagan, surviving children had Social Security benefits through college. Those benefits helped to pay for the child’s college education. Reagan got rid of that. As a result, I have $50,000 in college loans that I’ll be repaying till my kids are old enough to go to college. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have taken out loans to afford college. I’m not that naive. But my debt would have been lower.

/end rant. I’m not mad at all Republicans. I even like some people who are Republicans. (Hi, Rhonda!) I just disagree with these ideas that the GOP is using to frame their party with this year. They’re nothing short of discrimination. And I had hoped that we, as a people, had outgrown this. Guess not. But what can we expect from the people who have boycotted Heinz ketchup at their Convention. Grow up. This isn’t grade school. But I hope you’re enjoying the crappy Hunt’s ketchup. ;)

Twelve times August 30, 2004 ~ 11:31 pm

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That’s how many times Rudy Giuliani said “September 11″. It’s not counting all the times he just mentioned Ground Zero, or the families of the victims, or any of the days after September 11. Still, pretty impressive in a forty minute speech, no?

Still more impressive: the giant sign projected above the three women speaking about family members they had lost on 9/11 reading simply “September 11, 2001.” Because the Republicans were obviously afraid we’d forget what they were talking about. I think that was the most tasteless part of the whole proceeding, at least to me. If these women felt that the RNC was the place to talk about their loss, so be it. They have every right to do so. But could the producers be any more crass than to stick them under a huge 9/11 sign? I don’t think so.

Back to Giuliani. There were moments when I liked his speech. Really, there were. He was funny at points. He was right at points, like when he said that no party has all the answers, or is right all the time or wrong all the time. But then he pissed me off with his prolonged attempt at stand-up comedy with five millions slams at Kerry. If he shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes one more time (was he trying to find a trademark gesture, or what?), I was gonna hop on a train and track him down. Also, for future reference, Rudy, it’s not wise to stand on a stage in the Arena of the town that gave you all the political power you have, and say you “finally feel at home” because you’re surrounded by Republicans. You never felt at home here before? So sorry. Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you, as the Jerry Springer saying goes.

The thought I will leave you with (other than John McCain’s slam on Michael Moore, who good-naturedly sat back and flashed the peace sign, laughing) is this: How are we safer than we were on September 11th? Give me some examples. Yeah, Saddam’s out of power, but there are tons more terrorists popping up everyday. We still haven’t caught Osama. New York City hasn’t been below a Code Orange since 9/11. I still live in a city under siege, where I see National Guardsmen with rifles on the subway every day. I occasionally still find myself looking up at a plane that I think is flying too low over the Manhattan skyline, waiting for the crash. If the Bush “ship of state” was focused solely on defense prior to 9/11, as Rudy said, why were we such an easy target? If that same “ship of state” is now focused on defense, why are all the little reminders of insecurity that I just mentioned still there? Riddle me that, BushMan.

Tomorrow, a return to happy pictures of my environs. And I’ll even unfocus on politics long enough for a rant on public transportation, just for Sloth. And maybe tell you of my iPod woes. I promise.

On a lighter note August 30, 2004 ~ 4:03 pm

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Another quiz, dammit. Cos I wanted to take one. Swiped this from KCFla’s blog… Oh, and Rick’s softball team won their championship today. I think this is the fifth year in a row. To celebrate, he walked home from Central Park yelling “Impeach Bush” at the top of his lungs. I love this man, I think I’ll keep him. Onto the quiz:

365
You’re Elemant is Wind. You’re light-hearted,
care-free, kind, sensative, and mysterious. You
have friends and most absolutely love you. You
can be calm and soothing one minute and ragging
in anger the next so no one wants to get on
your bad side. You’re beauty is inspiring and
magical.

What’s Your Element(girls)? (PICTURES)
brought to you by

Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right… August 30, 2004 ~ 10:43 am

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Just heard that song on the radio and it seemed so accurate I had to use it for a title.

Well, the heat didn’t keep the protesters from filling the streets yesterday. I didn’t do the march since we were opening the Youngest’s birthday presents at her mother’s place (and for those of you that know me, that means yes, I finally met the Ex. But that’s another story.) My friend Jordana and her husband went, though, and they said the streets were filled. The route was from 14th Street up to 34th Street, a dogleg over a couple of blocks, and then back down to 14th. The New York Times today said that as the first protesters made their way back to 14th Street, the last groups of them had not even left the starting point yet. And yet the media is denying that there were 500,000 in the streets yesterday. Hell, even a police officer present at the march said there were 500,000 people. Just report that 500,000 people who have problems with the Bush agenda took to the streets and participated in a peaceful march already! But no, we don’t want to admit that there’s such opposition to El Presidente. This downplaying of facts is becoming habit for those reporting rallies in New York. It’s really maddening to know what’s going on and then not seeing it accurately portrayed for the rest of the country. I’m sure everyone who protested is being viewed as rabid anarchist, including John Kerry’s sister, who marched for reproductive rights this weekend. You go, girl.

Rick and I did make it to the rally in Central Park yesterday evening. Despite not having a permit, a few thousand people made their way to the Great Lawn for an impromptu gathering. Very peaceful, very quiet aside from the klezmer band that was playing. Tons of cops around, but they were just keeping an eye on things and not hassling anyone. Over all, a very mellow experience, although I was glad to see that the Lawyer’s Guild had marked observers out. It was nice to know that if anything did happen, someone was watching out for our rights.

My camera spazzed on me, saying my memory card is locked, but if I figure out how to unlock the stupid thing, I’ll take pictures of the streets. It was nearly deserted in Manhattan this weekend, and kind of reminded me of right after 9/11. Helicopters in the sky all weekend, cops and firefighters everywhere, and a creepy kind of quiet. Even the traffic on the streets was strangely subdued. We’ll see if this holds out.

And speaking of 9/11, I get the feeling that no holds will be barred tonight as the Republicans take the stage in Madison Square Garden. Rudy Guiliani is supposed to speak, and while I have great admiration for the way Rudy led this city in the hours, days, and weeks following 9/11, I don’t approve of him using that tragedy to win votes. Yeah, Bush went to war because of those attacks, and the whole platform is about how Dubya has “kept us safe” through his war on terrorism, but you know what I remember thinking the afternoon of September 11? And the next day? I was thinking “Thank God Rudy’s taking care of us, because Dubya is anywhere but here. What the hell is he doing?”

I understand that the President must be kept safe, but in the hours that followed the attacks, when all there was to do was sit in front of the TV with my neighbors, inhaling the pervasive stench of burnt buildings, planes, office supplies, and lives, watching the count of the missing rise, all I could think was “Where’s the leader of my country?” I felt abandoned. And tonight the Republicans are going to capitalize on that day. And I’ll spend tonight watching those speeches and remembering what it was like on my end.

Friday! August 27, 2004 ~ 1:08 pm

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Picture above is the monument to the Revolutionary War at Greenwood Cemetery. It marks the highest point in Brooklyn, and the site was part of the Battle of Brooklyn, the first major battle of the Revolutionary War, which lasted from August 22-28, 1776. The Americans got their collective asses kicked. Oh, and the guy in the background is Rick.

It’s Friday and gorgeous here. I’m going to go out and sit by the campus lily pond for my lunch break in a few. Places like that make it hard to believe I’m in the middle of the city. Of course, Brooklyn isn’t like being in Manhattan…you just have to walk through my neighborhood to know that. And after work, I’ll walk home through Prospect Park, which was also battleground during the Battle of Brooklyn.

This weekend is up in the air for me. Protesters here all weekend, I have to decide which ones I’m throwing in with. Fortunately, Time Out New York did a feature on the whole RNC, how to avoid it, and how to get involved this week. Thank you, TONY!

Also, the youngest turns 9 on Sunday, and I don’t know yet if I’m going to see her. I’d like to, but I understand if her mom wants to make it just a family day. If that happens, I’ll give her presents and card to her the next time I see her.

So, I may come back with additional posts over the next couple of days, or I may not. If that’s the case, you all have to wait with baited breath (what exactly is “baited breath”?) until Monday when I’ll show you the view of New York Harbor from the Revolutionary War monument. See, now you’re anxious, aren’t you?

Major Tater Irkin’, right here August 26, 2004 ~ 4:30 pm

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That bird again, on a grave marker. The more I look at him, the more I think maybe he’s a hawk.

Contributing to my not-so-great frame of mind today:

However, in the midst of all of this whining, I was sobered last night by watching Rescue Me. One of the firefighters went to a support group for those with post-traumatic stress from 9/11. Everyone was sitting around crying, and he asked where they were on that day. He got answers like “The Upper East Side,” “Paris,” and “Jersey, but I saw the smoke.” He was the only one who had been directly involved, and before leaving called them all “pussies” because they hadn’t been directly affected - they were just crybabies about it.

It sounds kind of harsh in black and white, but as I watched it, I thought to myself “You know, he’s right. I’ve been acting like I went through it when I had no direct connection to the disaster.” I had a couple of friends who were not immediately located, but we eventually found them. All of my friends and family came through it unscathed. I have nothing to whine about, because I didn’t lose anything that day, except maybe my innocence. And how can you really quantify that? So this September 11, a little bit early, I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Suck it up, Julz, because you’ve got nothing to cry about.

Fruit Bat August 25, 2004 ~ 10:18 pm

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Detail from a crypt in the cemetery.

I got my first dog when I was 11. I think. I might have been 12. I’ve been allergic to most things most of my life, but I seemed to have finally outgrown my animal allergies at that point, and my mom found a golden retriever that had just been rescued from her owners. These people had beaten her, and left her in the woods for days on end when she broke out of their back yard and her chain got tangled in the underbrush. The kind of people who shouldn’t be allowed to own plants, let alone anything sentient.

Long story short, I got a golden retriever. Her name was Brandy (oh, so original), and they said she was 2 years old, although we later figured she was more like 4 or 5. My mom was similar in body type to the woman who had abused Brandy, so she avoided my mom at first. I was the only other one in the house, and I instantly acquired a shadow. Brandy walked around with her tail between her legs for the first six months we had her because of what her previous owners had done, and she never really got used to my mom’s cane. Our guess was that she’d been beaten with one.

But after months of working with her to show her she had nothing to fear from us, after months of chewed up shoes, clothes, and pads (yeah, that was nasty), she finally seemed to understand that our place was her new home and no one was going to hurt her there. She was the most sweet and loving animal I have ever known, albeit one of the stupidest. The only “tricks” she ever learned were “wag the tail,” “ears up,” and “play paw” (her version of shake). I did manage to teach her to flip jerky treats off her nose into her mouth, but that took weeks. She thought whatever you called her was her name, and so responded at various times to “happy ass,” “Fruit Bat,” and “Guppy,” although the latter two were her favorites. She never really stopped chewing things when she was pissed at us. Once I came into the dining room to see that she had blue foam around her mouth. Turned out she had been eating a Brillo pad. Tasty. Another time, at Christmas, she ate the baby Jesus out of the nativity set. He was plastic and I guess tasted like some of her toys. It was just as well, the cat had been using Baby Jesus as a puck for his personal game of floor hockey.

I have a lot of memories of Brandy, all of them good except for one. As she got older, her hips bothered her, making it hard for her to get up stairs. Even the three stairs up from the backyard were a struggle some nights. However, if she didn’t go outside, we were guaranteed to have Lake Brandy-Piss in the house by morning, so go out she must. One night she went out and decided to keep all the neighbors up by barking instead of going to the bathroom.. I finally let her in, completely frustrated and angry, and gave her a whack on the butt as she came in. She wasn’t expecting it and her legs collapsed under her. She lay there for a few seconds looking at me, totally uncomprehending about what had just happened, and then picked herself up and started wagging her tail at me as if nothing had happened. Hitting that poor defenseless dog was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I can’t think of it to this day without breaking down in tears. Brandy forgave me for it, but I can’t forgive myself.

Brandy died on July 4, 2000. My mom and I were in Florida visiting some great-aunts who were sick, so we weren’t around when she went. We got the news when we made it back to Brooklyn. She was boarded with a woman who raised goldens, and Brandy loved it there, but I still feel bad about not being there for her. Four years later, I still miss her. She was my best friend.

109345692381805636 August 25, 2004 ~ 1:50 pm

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Here’s one of the birds we saw at the cemetery, pausing from a tasty meal of squirrel. I’m thinking Peregrine Falcon, but I could be wrong. I welcome expert opinions from birders.

I’ve really got nothing to post about, but I figured I would anyway, just so you all know I’m alive. Have to work till 7:30 tonight because of new Graduate Student Orientation. Can you feel the excitement?

Oh, and Mike (I call you this to differentiate you from my other blogging buddy Michael), there will be a post about the dog who thought she was a Fruit Bat. However, it won’t happen while I’m at work, because I get distracted too easily here. So look for that in the next couple of days. :)
Alright, back to the grind. Comment at will.

Even the dead couldn’t help the BoSox August 23, 2004 ~ 9:48 pm

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Okay, the first of the cemetery pics.

This is the grave of the “Father of Baseball”, someone named Chadwick. I particularly liked the little base path around the grave. I think I want one when I die. Or maybe a minature hockey rink. Oooh, no, I know. I want a football gridiron! My waist can be the 50 yard line! I am so twisted…

Notice that on the side of the column are crossed bats and a catcher’s mitt. On the other side were the same bats with a catcher’s mask. I thought these were nice touches. but we’ve already established what my taste is like.

Rick decided he wanted to reach up and touch the baseball to see what it felt like (this is why I love this man…if I was tall enough, I would have done the same damn thing. Ask my mom about the time I went to the British Museum and touched the Rosetta Stone). As he’s gripping the top of the column, he says “What the hell is this?” I give you “this”:

I don’t know if you can make it out, but “it” was a hand painted stone, apparently a plea from a Red Sox fan this past year for a World Series win. I loved it. They left him an offering because they couldn’t get to the Babe’s grave. Fantastic. We photographed the rock, put it back, and went on our merry way. Well, maybe not merry. It was a cemetery, after all.

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