Of monkeys and coeds

Maybe we should thank the cartoonist at The Post for the distraction of the stupidity he decided to create.

It sure took my mind off of what a horrible turn our country has taken lately.

Who knows if all the people who showed up in front of The Post building in NY were people out of work, who needed somewhere to go, and something to focus on other than the ache that their lives have become. Who knows?

Or if the kids who barricaded themselves at that college in NY were also escaping from the ordinary-ness of being college coeds, and wanted instead to be youtube fodder. Did any of them understand what it means to protest? They called themselves "Take Back NYU." From what?


Everyone who is a part of these altruistic causes should be in and of themselves ex halted for their ability to remind us that people in numbers can still make a difference. That we still live in that great land where you can stand in front of a tall brick building and express through frozen lips to a TV reporter about how important it is that you are standing there in front of that building. Or where a young woman can be shown fighting back against the security guards who want her and the others to go back to being ordinary, and quiet, and that we can feel one with her frustrations and want her to illicit change.

Or we can just let it be what it really is...a temporary distraction from how bad things are, and are getting.

Starting from Scratch

I have no idea if this web-log (which is what the word blog was created from) will become anything viable, but it's sort of neat to make one--like a macaroni-covered box that your teacher would spray with golden spray paint.

Somehow, the extra glitter made whatever was inside that much more important.

I think that's how people see the web...as a box they put something ordinary into and cover with pizzazz, thereby raising the level of importance of the content probably to one much higher than it might have had, say, if it was said during a drunken stupor at a party. Or put out at a garage sale. Or taken out of a fortune cookie and left on the restaurant table as insignificant, and inappropriate.

My family