To all the middle-class Americans trying to get away from it all this weekend:
Guess what: you’ve just set your siesta up in what is essentially my yard. I live here. So when a sunburn’s the only memory you have of your drunken flame-broiled adventure, I’ll still be here, dealing with the aftereffects of your douchebaggery.
You may think your precious Pekinese only poops petunias, exempting you from carrying those annoying little plastic bags, but I’m here to tell you that even the tiniest dog turd stinks up the place when attached to my shoe. Plus, my own dogs think it’s a tasty treat from heaven, making the whole experience that much more gross.
And it’s great that your kids can take a few days to ride their bikes and run around like nature intended, but just because my home’s a camper doesn’t mean I don’t have standards too. Would you allow the same insanity at home?
Wait, don’t answer that: I’m fearful of what the truth might be. Because my brother and I never ran amok in other peoples’ campsites. And we never, ever ran up and tried to pet strange dogs. Just because they’re cute doesn’t mean they don’t have teeth. From now on I’m gonna’ start carrying waivers for you to sign as your tiny hands reach — in my dogs’ minds — menacingly toward the top of their heads.
And then I’ll sit tight, hiding until you finally pack your obscene amounts of foods and — really? — golf carts — so you don’t have to actually ambulate of your own accord — into your financed to the nines RV and go back to your own home.
At which point I’ll breathe a sigh of relief, sit outside in peace with my coffee, surrounded by nothing but nature, and prepare for next weekend’s assault.
Checked out an article posted on FB by my friend Cheryl — In a nutshell, it’s about the fact that a healthy diet can reverse all sorts of ailments. No shit.
The HuffPo article talks about a severely diabetic woman who literally turned her health around through a plant-based diet.
According to author John Robbins, the great whole foods guru:
The physicians she was seeing for her diabetes took a look at her numbers, were amazed, and wanted to know how she did it. “I told them I had adopted a completely plant-based diet. They didn’t seem surprised at all, and told me that plant-based diets were helping to reverse diabetes. When I asked why they had not suggested it, they told me because it isn’t practical.”
Aghast, she asked her doctor, “Do you think it’s practical to be 30 years old and lose a leg?”
She walked out of that doctor’s office and never went back. “Everything changed from that moment,” she recalls. “I slowly decreased all the other diabetes medicines I was on. I lowered my blood cholesterol without drugs. I lowered my blood pressure without drugs. I corrected my hormonal problems without drugs. Many diabetics go blind, but I reversed the nerve damage in my eyes. And that infection in my leg? It completely healed. The arthritis in my feet? It went away.”
Ironically, this sort-of ties into an absolute rage-fest I had last week. Read More
It apparently snowed last night. You wouldn’t know it – it’s just wet and rainy now. Sort of feels like summer in San Francisco! I think I spent six months soaking wet, riding through puddles halfway up the bike rims. It was El Ninõ, and being a messenger in that kind of stuff makes you feel invincible, but soggy.
Of course, that was before unionization, so you had to ride or you had no money, no matter what got in your way. I got hit by six cars, and each and every time I got back up and kept delivering somebody’s divorce papers, or contracts, or whatever was so important it had to be there a.s.a.p.
I remember riding in an elevator with a woman, probably a few years older than me, maybe the same age, who can tell? Most of the suits ignored us, moved as far away as possible so as not to get the city streets and sweat on their thousand-dollar suits.
“I used to be like you,” she said, turning to talk to me.
“Really?” I asked, curious.
“Yeah, I was a messenger for a while, but now…” she looked down. You could tell she’d rather be huffing fumes up and down Market than sitting in some cush office.
“It’s the best job in the world,” I said, and I meant it. Of course, the unsaid sentiment was that it was also the worst, like living a manic-depressive episode ten hours a day. Read More
The cockpit of Pan Am flight 103, found across the street from Tundergarth church in Scotland
On December 21, 1988, 259 souls were torn from the cold night and thrown six miles to the terra firma of Lockerbie, Scotland, as the 747 they were in was blasted to pieces. Part of the fuselage with 60 passengers inside landed between houses, a jet engine crashed to earth on the other side of town, while a wing vaporized three houses and its 11 occupants after bursting into a fireball, leaving nothing but a crater.
In Lockerbie, they’ll describe that night as hell on earth, a nuclear-seeming holocaust. One woman nearly vomits at the smell of leather – she was a child, and her mother carried her, screaming, through the flames and raining fuel while wearing a leather jacket.
Bodies, body parts, contents and pieces of the plane, luggage, presents, teddy bears and jet fuel rained down, covering an area of more than 800 square miles. Rescuers describe dead found clutching handfuls of grass, others with arms wrapped tight around each other.
According to Libyan ex-justice minister Mustafa Abdel-Jalil, Libyan dictator Moammar Gadhafi gave the direct orders to bomb Pan Am 103 from the sky, according to the Associated Press. Read More
What the hell is going on in Wisconsin, huh?
"Mubarak of the Midwest" is the name Rage Against the Machine guitarist Tom Morello - who will play as part of a concert for the protestors - has given Wisconsin Gov. Walker.
Democratic Senators fleeing the state en masse, 40,000 people, as of Friday, taking to the streets to protest, and the tea party shipping in good conservative souls from all points to counter.
It almost sounds like the Middle East, with one glaring exception: we have the constitutional right to gather and make our voices heard without repercussions.
Apparently some of the protestors have signs decreeing non-violence. Let’s hope it sticks.
Because the fact is, these public employees have a just cause that goes well beyond the land of cheddar.
Straight and simple, the budget cuts the state is trying to vote on, which would cut health and pension benefits, are not the core issue.
Included in the vote is something that is very important to anyone currently holding, or hoping someday to again hold, a job. Let’s cut the bullshit and call it what it is:
Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker is union busting.
Like tsunamis and pyrotechnics-related club fires, being trampled to death is generally not a fate you consider while lying awake at 4 a.m., your brain buzzing with all the horrors you manage to push back during the day with coffee, the computer, work, family and all the other things that make you forget that, like everyone else swarming across the globe, life can be gone in an instant.
But seriously, who on Long Island would ever consider being trampled to death a viable ending, especially when the great American pastime, shopping, is involved?
WalMart security guard Jdimytai Damour probably didn’t. But I bet he’s watching his family put him to rest up in heaven, or whatever afterlife he personally believed in. And I bet he’s pissed. Read More
Do not be afraid. I’ve relocated the blog. It will be okay… Soon I’ll be back posting on an at least semi-regular basis, making the world just a little bit brighter with my tales of life in and around the land of the soft pretzel.
I call it progress!