Thanksgiving Dinner, 2006:

A Pint of Keller's Ale; a Makers Mark Manhattan; Iced relish tray; Oysters Rockefeller; a Side Car(!); Brussels Sprouts with Bacon, Haricot Verts, Glazed Carrots, and Mashed Potatoes aside Saddle of Lamb(rare); Pumpkin Pie; Coffee; Port.

Beddie-bye.

The Future

My sixty five year old father has bought himself a computer, purchased online services from the phone company, and started computer classes at the local community college. The computer is set on a simulated oak particle board computer table, which has been placed next to an actual oak roll top desk - the desk where my Great Grandfather Taylor sat to manage his fur trade in black bound ledgers of closely lined pale green paper. My father sits at his new desk vexed by the manuals he doesn't understand - written in "computerese" he says, rather than Standard English. He is becoming increasingly alarmed by what he discovers on the internet.

On a recent visit, we sat in the flickering light of the tiny tube T.V. in my parents' kitchen.

"I don't know which it will be," he stated flatly, "marketing or the internet. But one of them will bring an end to civilization."

"You sound pretty sure about that." I smiled.

"Oh yes. Absolutely. Of course, the worst thing about it all is that I won't be around to say I told you so."

I noted that my desperate need to be right about everything might be at least partly genetic.

We watched the news turn into commercials: "erectile dysfuction" and "acid reflux disease" pills; an American Made car which paradoxically promises to reduce U.S. dependence on foreign oil by burning ethanol blended fuel derived from heavily oil reliant/consuming argribusiness corn; and a fast food chain pushing a "Fourth Meal - between dinner and breakfast!", to Americans who one must suppose are not nearly fat enough.

His eyes followed the quick cuts and undulating graphics washing over the screen. Barely audibly he concluded:

"Then again, maybe I will."

Pink Martini

The author enjoys pre - WOOF! drinks with George, Tom, and Jeff - who also clicked the shutter - making me Pretty in Pink.

Ouch!

Went to the Veterans' Day BLOWOFF Saturday night. PACKED. Lots of military guys. They travel in pairs, it seems. A drunken woman, sitting on the vanity in the mens room, smoking, slurringly told me, "Those are perky titties you have there." Others must have thought so as well; 'cause, boy, are my nipples gonna be sore tomorrow. Oh wait, It is tomorrow.

Ow.

Straight Ticket

I am a registered Republican. Now, before you get all excited and bent out of shape about this, let me explain. I almost never actually vote for a Republican in the general election. In Pennsylvania generally and Philadelphia specifically, elections are largely decided by the two opposing political machines. Democrats control Philadelphia County, Republicans pretty much the rest of the state. In Philadelphia, Democratic primaries are foregone conclusions, the victor decided by trade union representatives and the various ward bosses before the ballots are printed. It's all for show. The Republicans are a more contentious lot. Their primaries have actual influence in selecting the candidate who will oppose the pre-ordained Democrat. In the GOP run off, I have a voice.



I rarely use it. Here in the city, the machine picked Democrat will win most of the time. But if the heir apparent is a total jackass, a pay-to-play patronage bonehead (this happens fairly frequently) and the GOP has a competent moderate in their primary (this happens all too rarely), I'll vote for him. If he makes it, I'll cross my fingers in November. Likewise in Republican dominated state races, if the Democrats have a candidate with a real shot, and the republicans have a stable of fascist hopefuls hoping for their party's nod, I'll vote for the worst of the lot, hope he gets the nomination, and pray that suburban swing voters will go for the moderate Democrat rather than the right winger. It's worked before. I vote issues and record, but won't hesitate to pick the lesser of two evils with an eye on the larger power dynamic. I did not vote for Nader.

For the first time since I began voting two decades ago, I voted the straight Democratic ticket. Tuesday morning in front of the New Caledonia Baptist Church, my polling station for the past six years, my neighbor James D., who lives two houses down the block, jammed the flyer laying out the Democratic Party pics into my hands. He has done this each voting day for the last six years. He is our local Gladys Kravitz and all round nosy busybody. He is also the local Democratic ward leader, and so knows the party affiliations of all our neighbors. He pursed his thin lips and announced that it was surely a waste of both effort and paper, and then tossed his head and laughed at his "joke". He has said this each voting day for the past six years. I'm of course never give him the satisfaction of knowing, but I think James would have been very pleased with the content of my ballot.

Ah memories. Yes...

Here's a picture of me back stage at Live Aid in July 1985(through the largesse of my child molester, who worked in broadcasting at the time). I think I have all of seven hairs on my nuts - but check out that Amish beard! I met and gleaned autographs from Mick Jaeger, Tina Turner and Hall and Oates (eww!) among others... More interesting to me though was The Smiths at the storied Tower Theater a month earlier, on their "Meat is Murder" tour. I was the only asymmetrically coifed youth clever enough to get an autograph out of the wan recluse Morrisy as he was rushed to the safety of his motor coach. I'll prolly get around to writing about both experiences at some point, but If you see me out before then, buy me a beer and I'll tell you all about it...