maybe i don't feel the same way about death as a lot of people. i don't know. i'm not going to explain anything that i think is original or brilliant, i know. indulge me.

i think that the best we can hope for as human beings is to live a long life. duh. we are ALL going to die. so all that is left is to look at HOW we've lived, what we've given. and in the rare instances where a man or woman has given so much, added something so extraordinary to the universe, maybe mourning is not as appropriate as honoring, maybe even celebrating the life of this person.

it says in the paper that jack mulhall "ran shelters for addicted people." to be fair, it says a little bit more than that. but not nearly enough. not nearly enough.

jack (though not all by himself) founded and was the driving force behind the keating centers in cleveland. here's how i describe the keating center: you're a drunk or junkie, and you're at rock bottom. you show up at their door and say "i need help." you got it. you have a bed, food, clothing, and help. for free. the people who work at keating are all in recovery and work there to help drunks and junkies get and stay clean and sober. they are all angels. they -- and jack -- love you. they teach you how to love yourself again. it's not easy. jack wasn't easy. he was a tough, crusty old bird.

but -- oh man -- what he did. he scraped and begged for anything and everything keating needed to stay afloat. and they did.

i asked him once if he was related to someone that i knew from my childhood. he said, "yes, he was my brother. he died." i told him i was sorry, that i, as a child, had admired his brother. jack told me that his brother was one of the reasons why he kept on. that his brother told him to as he was dying, that it was good work that he was doing.

jackson was sent to keating by the probation officer in his case back in 2007. he fricking hated it. it was more work than he was ready for. he knew it. everybody at keating knew it. so when jackson bolted in the middle of the night, jack wouldn't let him back in. it would have been a waste of a spot. it was right.

jack generated a whole lot of controversy. he was not easy. but you can NEVER take away from him what he did. i can't even guess at the number of people he helped get and stay sober. the lives he saved and enriched.

he did good. thank you, jack.

***and you can do good, too: send a check to PO Box 770108, Lakewood, OH 44107.

test posting from my iPhone. don't hate me cuz I have the coolest phone EVER.

i thought i might be done with my political ranting -- at least for a bit, but noooooo -- here it comes again.

america, as the republicans have long tried to define us, does not exist. as it turns out, providing health care for all americans is a pretty unpopular idea. as the democrats fight the charges that we will all be forced to have the plan proposed to those who need a choice, the republicans can yell louder. and (seriously, i have no clue why this surprises me), fools believe the lies. fools.

americans are fools. we scream that it's political for a president to address our children to try to encourage them to aspire to higher things. we can't allow our children to hear that. fools. ohmygod. they might try to be better than US. fat chance of that, morons.

compassionate choices for healthcare is political.

education is political.

we're just idiots. the rest of the world knows it.

we can't just be a nation of flag-waving, "pious," pledge-reciting cub scouts to prove to the world that we are "special." we have to put our money where our mouth is. literally. nobody, NOBODY believes that such a shift (ohmygod -- EVERYBODY GETS HEALTH CARE????!!!!) will be easy. there will be adjustments. do we have the balls to deal with them for such a goal? obviously not. and my asking the question shows what a fool i am -- that i would assume for a second that people think it's not ok that everybody doesn't have access to health care is a monumental error.

i'm ashamed.

crazy fuck.

this guy is so freaking lucky he didn't run into a parent like me.

i have been having a hard time putting into words my feelings about drugs and alcohol in a way that makes sense. this post has been a work in progress for quite a while.

i AM NOT CARRIE NATION. i do NOT believe that alcohol -- and even many drugs* -- are evil and should be banned. i don't. i do believe that many drugs are useful medically (duh), but should NOT be used recreationally. further, i believe some drugs should not be used under ANY circumstances.

i do believe that we in america have developed our own weird cultural attitude about alcohol. we have a pathological relationship with it. also, i do NOT believe we are alone in the world in this. i DO believe that as we move farther and farther from the traditional european attitude wherein alcohol is considered a "food," (as opposed to the american view of alcohol as a "toy"), we become increasingly sick. i had a conversation with a friend recently who said that it became clearer and clearer to him on a recent trip to europe that the only drunks in the pubs, restaurants, etc., were tourists -- mostly americans.

i do NOT believe that alcohol and drugs are a toy. and let me be clear about this part: i do NOT see any difference between alcohol and marijuana. alcohol users can get all self-righteous about this point if they want because marijuana is (horrors!) illegal. perspective, people. time and space. that's a whole research paper devoted to the arbitrary and capricious nature of laws as a reflection of cultural mores. not goin' there. nope.

as an adjunct to the legal "thing," i actually DO believe that the "war on drugs" has been ineffective and an amazing waste of time and money. shocker ahead: i do believe in the decriminalization of marijuana* and maybe some other drugs. wow. breathe. you can do it. take your time. i'm still here.

we've demonized drug users to the point where we've actually made it HARDER for addicts to seek treatment and recovery. "how's that workin' for you, america?"

i do believe that we as a culture have some growing up to do as a culture (and the hard work that goes along with it) to change our childish and slavish devotion to alcohol as a necessary adjunct to "grown-up" playtime. the more we "try" to pretend we're grown up (as opposed to actually growing up), the more ridiculous we look. and EVERYBODY is paying the price for that.

*marijuana, peyote, etc. although i think that the marijuana of today is NOT the mostly safe marijuana of our childhood. notwithstanding the gateway-drug argument, of course. just like alcohol.

When we moved to the building, we got a rug for in front of our door.

Here's the rug:

Somebody stole the rug. I suspected the two gentlemen who lived down the hall. They believed that all parties they held should start at 3:30 a.m. during the week -- and they acted accordingly. I think they thought that I complained about them. I know that's not proof, but who else would have done it?

We replaced it with --

-- the same kind of rug.

That rug was stolen. Fuckers. Of course, the argument goes that I asked for it.

So, I got this rug:

Fuckers. Of course, they took my rug. Apparently, they didn't get the message.

I got a new rug:

I figure that maybe they 'll get the message.

And I know. I hear you saying, "You idiot. They're going to take your new rug." That might be true, but I have technology on my side, now.

You will recall that back in August, 2008, Stacey's companion of 8 1/2 years, Freddie, passed away unexpectedly. He had survived several moves and a number of traumatic falls. Well, here's the rest of the story.

Now, it turns out that Freddie wasn't a benign companion, giving and accepting unconditional love, as frogs often do. How many times did women kiss Freddie, expecting him to turn into a handsome prince, who would then slay all of their dragons. There were many, of that I'm sure -- every woman who came into our home fawned over Freddie, wanting to pet him and kiss him. It must have been his personality -- swimming to see who the lady caller might be, those large eyes blinking alluringly.

As the story is now revealed, he was quite the Lothario, actually a cross between Lothario and Typhoid Mary, spreading Salmonella to the unsuspecting women seeking their handsome prince.

Interestingly enough, there are other dangers lurking here, which I hate to report. Of course, I am of the opinion that statistics can be used to prove any thing or all things, depending upon how they are manipulated. What the heck is a "standard deviation" anyway? But I digress and will get back to the topic at hand.

Dogs. You may be aware that I walk three of them, two Boxers and a Beagle, every day at least twice a day, most times, three, and sometimes, four. Most nights, the older Boxer, Sheba, looks at me as if I'm crazy when I ask if they want to go out. It is, after all, dark; and the creatures of the night are lurking in full force, the vampires and, once a month, werewolves. The other Boxer, Bella, and the Beagle, Scout, never refuse; so, I have two dogs on those nights, two dogs willing to protect their master. Or so I thought.

It was just over four years ago that Scout tripped me -- she just stopped right when and where I was striding, and I ended up with a skinned, bloody elbow and a severely bruised ego. The Beagle seemed to be unhurt, but she hasn't gotten me in that predicament since then; so, maybe I did cause her some pain.

We had just moved to the City. The dogs were accustomed to running free on our suburban acre plot surrounded by an invisible fence, chasing moles and birds and rabbits without any constraints like a six-foot long leash attached to a human. In retrospect, I now submit that Scout did it on purpose -- made me fall, that is -- to send me a message that she didn't appreciate the loss of freedom, the loss of her right to run down small animals, her pleasure in howling at children passing by, and her daily opportunity to stay outside for hours.

Why do I think that might be true -- that she did it on purpose, made me fall, that is? Less than a year ago, the Centers for Disease Control estimated that injuries from falls caused by dogs that were serious enough to require emergency room treatment averaged about 77,000 per year in this country from 2001 to 2006. That's a lot of ... accidents.

I didn't go to the emergency room. My injury wasn't counted. Others probably went to doctor's offices and weren't counted. Still others went to the morgue and weren't counted.

I take no pleasure in pointing this out, but that is far too many injuries and deaths to be "accidental."

This is not a post in which I preach about the dangers of drinking and driving. Or drinking and living.

There are charts and informational materials describing the effects of imbibing, and most of them say that at a blood alcohol concentration (BAC) of .30% (that's the reading on the breath testing machine in most places), most people will be unconscious or on the edge of unconsciousness. And a BAC of .40% leads a lot of people to wonder why the individual is alive.

The Rapid City Journal reported that Marguerite Engle was found unconscious behind the wheel of a truck parked on the side of Interstate 90. Ms. Engle's BAC was .708%.

I guess that is legally intoxicated in South Dakota.

The police stopped to check on the truck because it was reported stolen. More interesting is that police found her a second time in a ditch in a stolen car allegedly intoxicated less tha a month later.

In general, Minnesotans that were polled are quite pleased that the one-person crime wave moved to South Dakota.

Now, a lying, conniving, scumbagwell-paid lawyer could interpose the defenses that:

(1) she wasn't driving (vehemently arguing, "How could she drive? Obviously, she was way too intoxicated to even get into the vehicles. The guy she was with must have left her there passed out in the vehicles when he couldn't have his way with her."), and

(2) she didn't steal anything (vehemently arguing, "How could she steal anything? Obviously, the guy she was with must have stolen the vehicles while she was unconscious, dragged her into the vehicles, and then left her there passed out in the vehicles when he couldn't have his way with her.").

Don't laugh. It's been done.

But if she had been in Montana, where the definition of drunk driving as a .08% BAC is considered extreme federal government interference in local affairs, the police would have taken her home because she wasn't really driving.

You are what you pretend to be, so be careful about what you pretend to be. -- Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Mother Night

Happy New Year!

Or, more formally: Haben Sie ein glückliches neues Jahr.

I think that's right. It's been a while since I studied German -- long before the turn of the century.

Today, the City's Public Square lights up with about 100,000 people, bands, speakers, fireworks, Christmas lights, the huge tree, and displays because this is, after all, the day following Thanksgiving when all the citizenry pours into downtown to shop at all the major department stores and see Santa Claus at Higbee's and Mr. Jingeling on Halle's Seventh Floor, Santa's associate and his elves at May Company, and the tall, ornate Christmas tree at Sterling Lindner.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! No-no-no-no! It's not the day after Thanksgiving, it's Saturday. I saw the sign!

Halle's? Closed. May Company? Closed. Higbee's? Closed. Sterling Lindner? Closed. And the Cleveland Winterfest is now held on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Shop in the suburban malls on Friday, come downtown Saturday.

But someone in our household didn't know that. Sterling-Lindner closed in 1968. Halle Brothers closed in 1982. May Company closed in 1993. Higbee Company was sold to Dillard's and closed its downtown doors in 2002. But she invited a few people over for dinner and a tour of the lighted, decorated Public Square -- last night!

25 people -- and no lighted, decorated Public Square.

The food was great.

So, early this morning, as the rest of the City slept, city workers and others were out on Public Square building stages, putting up huge TV screens, barricading streets, working on the fireworks display, and telling a guy walking his dogs to stay out of that area because of the danger to the public.

Someone in the police department put up a few of these "no parking" signs:

Because this doesn't happen on November 28 in these parts --

and --

Oh, the party last night -- it wasn't a total loss because a few weeks ago, there was a test burn of the lights. A preview ... on my iPhone!

Wait 'til next year!

Tonight, we will not be present for the lighting of Public Square. We will be seeing a different kind of fireworks: