You are going to look like such an ass when (if) this story comes out. The full story, minus your pro-Jewish-mafia redactions.
"At approximately 3:00PM, an NYPD Traffic Agent was writing tickets on 13th Avenue near 53rd Street, and people felt that certain summonses were unjustified. A crowd gathered around the agent, and unfortunately, a Boro Park Shomrim unit was detained by the police. He was taken by a patrol car to the 66th PCT, where various Askonim arrived to offer their assistance."
People felt the summonses were unjustified, a crowd gathered, and "unfortunately" the Shomrim thug just happened to be escorted to the station, huh? Maybe because he attacked a police officer or was found to be obstructing justice? Whatever the case, I doubt the detention was "accidental". Usually these thing happen because you are misbehaving. Own up and obey the law. Shomrim.
Really, this sounds exactly like when I used to fight with my little brother.
Brother: (crying)
Mother: Teddy, what happened here?
Me: Well, he was teasing me and I told him to stop and then he kept doing it and now he started crying.
Mother: What did you do after you told him to stop that made him start crying?
Mr. Shomrim guy, what did you do that made the cops arrest you?
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Have We Delivered Up the Youth on the Altar of Education?
I wasn't going to write this article, nor do I necessarily believe that the answer is Yes, or even that this is a sacrifice we should not indeed be making. However, when I searched for the term on Google I found that the terminology of "sacrifice" on the "altar of education" was not even in the vernacular of debate. I thought it was language worth reviewing.
Many young people currently facing the end of Spring Break see their lives as coming to an effective halt, as if someone pressed the Pause button on their existence and sent their "true" selves into another long hibernation until summer. I am the first to recognize the value of education, but I can't help but wonder if there isn't some way to alleviate the real burden these children face. Can the experience be improved? Is accepting the necessity of schooling equal to accepting the necessity of a sacrifice of the value of freedom?
Many young people currently facing the end of Spring Break see their lives as coming to an effective halt, as if someone pressed the Pause button on their existence and sent their "true" selves into another long hibernation until summer. I am the first to recognize the value of education, but I can't help but wonder if there isn't some way to alleviate the real burden these children face. Can the experience be improved? Is accepting the necessity of schooling equal to accepting the necessity of a sacrifice of the value of freedom?
The Biofuels Debacle
"In order for you to put biofuel in your Prius and feel good about yourself for no reason, real actual people in faraway places have to starve to death." ~Mark Steyn on worldwide food shortages in The New York Sun, April 28, 2008.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Side by Side, Issue 3
"I swear—by my life and my love of it—that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine."
~Rand, A. (1957). Atlas Shrugged.
"Naked to the waist, his body a little green, like that of a dead man, the bachelor was lying on an unmade bed. The disorder of sheets and blankets attested to a long death agony. I smiled, thinking about M. Fasquelle. But he wasn't alone; his daughter was taking care of him. On the canvas, the maid, his mistress, her features marked by vice, had already opened a bureau drawer and was counting the money. An open door disclosed a man in a cap, a cigarette stuck to his lower lip, waiting in the shadows. Near the wall a cat lapped milk indifferently. This man had lived only for himself. By a harsh and well-deserved punishment, no one had come to his bedside to close his eyes."
~Sartre, J. (1938; 1st published in U.S., 1959). Nausea.
~Rand, A. (1957). Atlas Shrugged.
"Naked to the waist, his body a little green, like that of a dead man, the bachelor was lying on an unmade bed. The disorder of sheets and blankets attested to a long death agony. I smiled, thinking about M. Fasquelle. But he wasn't alone; his daughter was taking care of him. On the canvas, the maid, his mistress, her features marked by vice, had already opened a bureau drawer and was counting the money. An open door disclosed a man in a cap, a cigarette stuck to his lower lip, waiting in the shadows. Near the wall a cat lapped milk indifferently. This man had lived only for himself. By a harsh and well-deserved punishment, no one had come to his bedside to close his eyes."
~Sartre, J. (1938; 1st published in U.S., 1959). Nausea.
Out of Context, Issue 8
And it was true, I had always realized it; I hadn't the right to exist. I had appeared by chance, I existed like a stone, a plant or a microbe. My life put out feelers toward small pleasures in every direction. Sometimes it sent out vague signals, at other times I felt nothing more than a harmless buzzing.
Nausea. Sartre, Jean-Paul. New Directions Publishing.
Nausea. Sartre, Jean-Paul. New Directions Publishing.
NRA's Newest Recruit
I've never had much interest in guns. Kinda supported gun control. Though I'm distrustful of Big Government controls on personal freedom, I do approve of some measure of restriction in the interest of safety. When Barack Obama said the bitter poor cling to God and guns, I didn't see myself as being within his line of criticism.
Then I held a gun in my hands. Felt the weight of the cold metal, the power. Aimed and fired, heard the pop, felt the recoil and the pure speed of the bullet, watched the shot hit the target, and was changed forever. Guns and knives are beautiful. I tried the rifles and handguns, admired the AK-47 and the M-16, the Barrettas and the Smith & Wessons and Uzis and Glocks. Took note of the differences in aiming and kickback, thought about which would serve best on the battlefield or on the street. I can't really condone illegalizing this form of innocent pleasure. We have to get out of the mindset of, "I don't like it so you can't either."
My freckles are coming out. Not that that's a bad thing. It's cute. But my face just looks dirty from all the hair from not shaving during sefira. And my instructor at the firing range, this Marine, was a major cutie. Maybe that even had something to do with this change of opinion on the gun issue. Yup, just like how my bf convinced me that we have a moral responsibility to go green. Lol. My so-called beliefs are so wishy-washy. Show me a sexy guy and I'm putty. Should I be ashamed of that? I could say I'm just being open-minded and willing to hear new evidence. I'll think about this and get back to you.
Then I held a gun in my hands. Felt the weight of the cold metal, the power. Aimed and fired, heard the pop, felt the recoil and the pure speed of the bullet, watched the shot hit the target, and was changed forever. Guns and knives are beautiful. I tried the rifles and handguns, admired the AK-47 and the M-16, the Barrettas and the Smith & Wessons and Uzis and Glocks. Took note of the differences in aiming and kickback, thought about which would serve best on the battlefield or on the street. I can't really condone illegalizing this form of innocent pleasure. We have to get out of the mindset of, "I don't like it so you can't either."
My freckles are coming out. Not that that's a bad thing. It's cute. But my face just looks dirty from all the hair from not shaving during sefira. And my instructor at the firing range, this Marine, was a major cutie. Maybe that even had something to do with this change of opinion on the gun issue. Yup, just like how my bf convinced me that we have a moral responsibility to go green. Lol. My so-called beliefs are so wishy-washy. Show me a sexy guy and I'm putty. Should I be ashamed of that? I could say I'm just being open-minded and willing to hear new evidence. I'll think about this and get back to you.
Mandala
What can I say? It is insignificant in the great scope of the cosmos, yet there is nothing sublime as the creative act. Fashioning for a thought, a moment, sustainable form, the artist grants permanence to the tenuous, endurance to the ethereal state of the smallest mind.
Is the poet's purpose to entertain? To provoke? To honor? To learn? To preserve?
What if art, too, where unattainable as reality? A creation, that yields no created. A work that, should one attempt to digest it, simply ceases to be. The food of the starving. The food of the sated. The ultimate rendering of that which cannot be rendered, lest it be rendered a rendition.
In other words, art conveys a message of some sort, the conception of which took place in this world of corporeal reality. However, by giving the message form in some artistic medium the artist necessarily dilutes the message by confusing it with its vessel. To truly represent the idea, you would have to reduce it to what it was before it was represented. Whatever that is.
Of course, this very difficulty suggests the richness of art and its power. Accuracy of depiction falls thoroughly silent beside preservation and dissemination of the very soul of Man.
I don't think I was the first one to discuss these ideas. Please tell me if you know who said it.
A word about this post. I've been almost silent lately. My soul has been dormant. Life has been beautiful. Light workload, hot boyfriend, lots of fun and enjoyment. We've even had a spate of gorgeous weather. Living it up, travel, leisure. There is no push to produce; passionate creativity is born of adversity.
My shrink has 45 minute sessions. I asked why he chose that length and if he ever considered the differential effectiveness of alternative session lengths. He said he hadn't, but we could discuss it during our regular therapy session - on the clock. Does this seem right? It seemed funny to me that to address a question of best practices, a question of whether provision of services is being geared toward maximum effectiveness should be billed as therapy. What do you think, maybe I'm wrong.
Why are my sentences so full of ridiculously big words? Why is my writing so cluttered? Talk to me...
Is the poet's purpose to entertain? To provoke? To honor? To learn? To preserve?
What if art, too, where unattainable as reality? A creation, that yields no created. A work that, should one attempt to digest it, simply ceases to be. The food of the starving. The food of the sated. The ultimate rendering of that which cannot be rendered, lest it be rendered a rendition.
In other words, art conveys a message of some sort, the conception of which took place in this world of corporeal reality. However, by giving the message form in some artistic medium the artist necessarily dilutes the message by confusing it with its vessel. To truly represent the idea, you would have to reduce it to what it was before it was represented. Whatever that is.
Of course, this very difficulty suggests the richness of art and its power. Accuracy of depiction falls thoroughly silent beside preservation and dissemination of the very soul of Man.
I don't think I was the first one to discuss these ideas. Please tell me if you know who said it.
A word about this post. I've been almost silent lately. My soul has been dormant. Life has been beautiful. Light workload, hot boyfriend, lots of fun and enjoyment. We've even had a spate of gorgeous weather. Living it up, travel, leisure. There is no push to produce; passionate creativity is born of adversity.
My shrink has 45 minute sessions. I asked why he chose that length and if he ever considered the differential effectiveness of alternative session lengths. He said he hadn't, but we could discuss it during our regular therapy session - on the clock. Does this seem right? It seemed funny to me that to address a question of best practices, a question of whether provision of services is being geared toward maximum effectiveness should be billed as therapy. What do you think, maybe I'm wrong.
Why are my sentences so full of ridiculously big words? Why is my writing so cluttered? Talk to me...
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Happy Passover
Come November, it looks like I may find myself voting write-in. I've just lost faith in all of the candidates. Here's the latest blow: these guys are debating who's the biggest loser and who's more bitter instead of talking about the issues.
Passover? Fattening as usual. Back to the gym tomorrow. La Fille was pretty good. Natalie Dessay was spectacular as usual. The "humor" was for the most part not funny and just served to incite the people behind me to laugh too loudly. Juan Diego Florez was delicious, though his voice seemed a bit underpowered for the huge Met stage. The round guy playing Sulpice was annoying, but I guess there are those who would find his character humorous and affecting. The production was grand and the story moved quickly to its joyous Salut a la France. And the Duke of Krakenthorp is an Olympic Bobsledder. Get it? HAhaha. That was supposed to be funny. Why aren't you laughing? Bobsledder, get it? Well, neither do I. But I love you anyway.
Passover? Fattening as usual. Back to the gym tomorrow. La Fille was pretty good. Natalie Dessay was spectacular as usual. The "humor" was for the most part not funny and just served to incite the people behind me to laugh too loudly. Juan Diego Florez was delicious, though his voice seemed a bit underpowered for the huge Met stage. The round guy playing Sulpice was annoying, but I guess there are those who would find his character humorous and affecting. The production was grand and the story moved quickly to its joyous Salut a la France. And the Duke of Krakenthorp is an Olympic Bobsledder. Get it? HAhaha. That was supposed to be funny. Why aren't you laughing? Bobsledder, get it? Well, neither do I. But I love you anyway.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
JK Rowling is an ass to her fans
JK sues her biggest fan for loving her books, vows to waste her time screwing up a good series.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Overheard in New York
Girl 1, on bus: Someone bought dishwashing soap for the apartment. It made me so happy, we had been using hand soap on the dishes.
Girl 2: Ewww gross.
Girl 1: Oh, the hand soap wasn't a problem, it just doesn't cut grease as well as dish soap...
Girl 2: Ewww gross.
Girl 1: Oh, the hand soap wasn't a problem, it just doesn't cut grease as well as dish soap...
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Bush Makes 'Free Trade' National Security Issue, Clinton Lays off Another
I'm becoming uncomfortable with Hillary Clinton. Her reaction (she essentially fired him) to former strategist Mark Penn's meetings with Colombian government officials was unfortunate. In fact, her reaction to any controversial move by any of her staff seems to lead to a high profile firing (i.e. Geraldine Ferraro). Such an attitude fosters a group-think environment which is a proven recipe for poor decision-making (a la the Bay of Pigs invasion).
This is all besides the fact that Mrs. Clinton's stand on the issue at stake in the Penn debacle is incorrect. No, free trade is not a matter of opinion. To oppose free trade is to oppose progress and a dynamic economy. For once, Bush is right. Bush is funny, though. Describing the plan, he said, "While we will continue to work closely with Congress, the need for this agreement is too urgent, the stakes for our national security are too high, to allow this year to end without a vote (Reuters)." Since when did free trade become a national security issue? (Bush Makes 'Free Trade' National Security Issue)
And congestion pricing fails. Go, go, go, go Silver. Why is the usually cool and composed Mayor Bloomberg throwing such a hissy fit over this thing, anyway?
This is all besides the fact that Mrs. Clinton's stand on the issue at stake in the Penn debacle is incorrect. No, free trade is not a matter of opinion. To oppose free trade is to oppose progress and a dynamic economy. For once, Bush is right. Bush is funny, though. Describing the plan, he said, "While we will continue to work closely with Congress, the need for this agreement is too urgent, the stakes for our national security are too high, to allow this year to end without a vote (Reuters)." Since when did free trade become a national security issue? (Bush Makes 'Free Trade' National Security Issue)
And congestion pricing fails. Go, go, go, go Silver. Why is the usually cool and composed Mayor Bloomberg throwing such a hissy fit over this thing, anyway?
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Yeah, more of the same
Why oh why was I condemned to this? So stupid. I didn't go out last night because I thought I could get some sleep after a little while on the internet, but no. No privacy for a minute ALL NIGHT. And no sleep. Should've just gone out. I give up on this stupid house. People coming and going constantly.
Continued
I think I'm having a heart attack. Well, good. I didn't need this fuck-up of a life anyway. Was my dad just waiting for my bros to come back before he leaves?! Why can't they all just get the hell away! I know I sound silly ranting like this.What can I do?
I'm Going to Bore You
Somebody commiserate with me. My life is being destroyed in real time. All I want is a few hours to myself and all I get is backache from sitting and waiting while people keep walking around like this is a train station.
More of My Rant
Oh when will I fucking just give up! I keep getting moments when they'll leave me alone and then someone comes back around and I just have enough time to pull my pants up - or not. It makes my blood pressure go up so high, I'm really in danger.
Idiot Me
DAMN I'm fucking jumping out of my skin!! At 6:00, my brothers finalllly left the house and just five minutes later, my dad comes downstairs again! Not a bleeeping moment of privacy! And I gave up a whole night of sleep for it, too. I give my days to all you people. Keep the days, but at least gie me the nights. Aww, he's so sweet, to. I can't stay mad at my dad. He's going to the bagel store, he just offered to pick me up what I want. He doesn't mean any harm. Brrr.
The City that Never Sleeps? You bet!
It's 1:15am when my dad begins to think about going to bed, but two bros have about another hour of energy left. Then things quiet down about 2:30, but another bro walks in just after 4:00am with five friends in no way ready to sleep. My mom usually wakes up at 5:00, so it's kinda happening non-stop round the clock. Although it's pretty cool sometimes, it often pains me - not because I'm kept up - but because I like the quiet times when I can be alone. God, I can't believe what's going on now. 6 spring breakers stumble in for a pit stop on their way to the the airport for their flight to LA.
P.S. I enjoyed hulu for a couple of days before the evil internet filter began to block it. As it was with Joost before it.
P.S. I enjoyed hulu for a couple of days before the evil internet filter began to block it. As it was with Joost before it.
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