I love you, Richmond
But you continue to not be either Portland or Seattle or anywhere between, and I am not sure how much longer I can handle that.
Lindley Park standoff (by GreensboroNR)
From my BFF’s ‘hood. (Makes me feel better about ours, in which an incident involving a redneck drunk driving his lawnmower through the stop sign near my kid’s bus stop is as dramatic an event I have, in recent years, actually witnessed.)
But when your neighbor makes HuffPo with an article describing a “naked standoff,” I’m pretty sure you should win… something:
The incident began when a neighbor called the cops on Jimmy Albert Burleson, 41, who allegedly sat “naked on his porch with a gun while calling out to God.”
I MEAN SERIOUSLY. Could you have effective therapy if your shrink was this guy’s Doppelganger?
[: tangent to this.]
When Googling local psychiatrists, does this qualify as a bad omen? (Consider, if you will, that my most recent two psychiatrists are both dead, and how I had to quit seeing the one before that, because his eerie resemblance to then-Homeland Security secretary Michael Chertoff canceled out any progress I could ever have made in the treatment of my PTSD.)
Anyway…
WHO WANTS TO BE MY SHRINK?! I am now, once again, scheduling auditions. Please do not be suicidal, involved in a some inscrutable research funds/FDA scandal, bear a spooky resemblance to anyone associated with the most recent Bush administration, and/or have a name that Google associates with with a past operator of an enterprise responsible for the ritualized torture and murder of dogs, if that is not asking too much.
Zoe, the woman who wrote the above-linked post (daughter of the late Don Finkel, one of my first - not to mention best - teachers at Evergreen) is whip-smart in her own right. Her modest, spare, occasionally updated blog is one of few I manage, these daze, to keep up with, and I suspect she has a brilliant future ahead.
(Shorter V.: ‘Hey! This was an enjoyable post.’)
Geary, the official Republican candidate, refused to abandon his campaign, despite a public request that he do so by the Henrico County Republican Committee.
The political battle reached a peak weeks before the election when Geary called Republican leader and county Sheriff Mike Wade a liar at a Republican breakfast in front of Cantor and other Republican leaders.
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Matthew Geary found dead in apparent suicide | Richmond Times-Dispatch
Normally I’m glad to see local Republicans going at each other, but this row got especially brutal, and today, a man is dead, leaving behind a shattered family, and so many talking heads mouthing inevitable mantras of ‘thoughts and prayers’ going out to them.
I began this book in the spring of 1987 in the belief that America was passing through a period that increasingly resembled the moral slackness of the spendthrift twenties, a new Gilded Age, and one that, like then, would extract a price for its excesses. That belief has been borne out, but there the comparison ends. Unlike the twenties, the eighties were not a romantic period, and it’s doubtful that the characters who gave it special flavor will be remembered with nostalgic affection. Oliver North and Ronald Reagan, Michael Milken and Ivan Boesky, Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, Arthur Laffer and his curve, the yuppies and the LBO kings, the hustlers and quick-buck promoters—all typified a self-indulgent and imitative age when entertainers became public leaders and when celebrities, not pioneers, scientists, or artists, became cultural heroes.
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Haynes Johnson, in epilogue to Sleepwalking Through History, America In The Reagan Years.
[Excruciating personal subtext: My mother’s mother was the campaign manager for her county during Oliver North’s Senate run. Yes really.]
But you continue to not be either Portland or Seattle or anywhere between, and I am not sure how much longer I can handle that.
Reblogged because I am an uncompensated whore for Powell’s Books.
No coupon code. No minimum purchase. Just free shipping, all weekend, because we like you.
__
* One might even say she is “doggedly” determined.†
† I am sorry.‡
‡ Now I’m just being a dick.
Inevitable albeit belated reblog on behalf of our homies. (Sweet bonuses: My husband’s name in the liner notes; hearing him squeal with happiness on playing one of the tracks and saying “I remember when this was just a little riff!’ - Because he spent countless evenings over at Mark’s while all this was in development.)
“But it’s available online for free.” So is this ass kicking! Let me know where to deliver it!
Also: To the one of you who is married to me and is more likely to read this on his goddamn phone in the next room than pop his head back here to see if I was still hoping to hold him to that hours-ago promise of dinner: I love you, now please feed me.
Can’t say as I recall what I was looking for when I ended up on this website, but I can say this unexpected image freaked me right the fuck out.
(via I’ve Got My Mind On My Money And My Money On My Mind | Tosh.0 Blog)
It is not only our commode which weeps; we all weep when my husband makes bean soup (although the soup is, itself, delicious, in spite of its consequences that inevitably follow).
I look at the wall see the roll there that’s cringing, while my commode gently weeps. I leave the bathroom and the fan is still blowing, still my commode gently weeps.
Middle Of The Road
The Pretenders
Decades after the fact, I realize Chrissie Hynde was not, in this Pretenders track, singing “I’m standing in the middle of life with my pants behind me” (because, really, who among us hasn’t done that?) and, while ‘plans,’ in this context, makes lots more sense, it must be said, I’m a bit disappointed.
Should we feel weird about the computers and phones we use, all the clothes that we wear that are made in faraway factories in Asia under harsh working conditions? …the mainstream view that you would hear from lots of economists would be no, you shouldn’t feel weird. The famously liberal Paul Krugman, winner of the Nobel Prize for economics and New York Times columnist, has argued that in places like Indonesia, terrible factories, far, far worse than anything you’ve heard about here today, they raised the economy. They made everybody better off… [says] Krugman:
‘It is the indirect and unintended results of the actions of soulless multinationals and rapacious local entrepreneurs. It is not an edifying spectacle, but no matter how base the motives of those involved, the result has been to move hundreds of millions of people from abject poverty to something still awful, but nonetheless significantly better.’
- Ira Glass, citing and quoting Paul Krugman, This American Life (Ep. 454: Mr. Daisey and the Apple Factory).