The Sound of Rain

I have to admit, I can’t get enough of pictures of cats with funny captions on them. These are also known, of course, as LOLcats.

I’m not ashamed of this, though I am a little embarrassed to add that I have devoted hours of my all-too-brief and precious lifetime, to making my way steadily through the archives at http://icanhascheezburger.com/.

Time spent laughing is time well spent. And in honor of that, here are some of my favorite LOLs.

That’s enough for now. More later.

"Some fumes which are not poisonous would be a welcome change." - S. Holmes

Astute reader J. suggests that it’s more than just coincidence, that they solved the mystery of the maple syrup aroma mere days after I mentioned it here. He may be right.

The Gothamist isn’t buying it, either. In fact, according to the crack journalists over there, this may not be the end of the mystery at all. Frutarom itself, one of the factories accused of producing the aroma, expressed surprise at the accusation.

But the real money quote is this one: “Some health experts believe that it is highly unlikely that a food-based emission from a small plant like this could be so strongly detected three or four miles away,” said North Bergen spokesman Phil Swibinski. It has been smelled as far away as the Bronx and Queens.

Yet the Health Department is able to “confirm” that the odor is perfectly safe.

And, dear readers, when I first smelled it, it was 11:30 at night and, as I recall, quite still.

I think they’re afraid I was about to blow the cover right off their operation, so they came up with these factories in New Jersey to explain it – knowing that nobody from New York would ever go and check it out. I mean, it’s  New Jersey. And anyway, we’re used to funny smells coming from that direction, right?

This whole thing stinks.

(I did enjoy the visual of all the inspectors running around with little cannisters, trying to catch a smell.)

Aren't they just a little bit bored?

Recently I found out that between the two halves of the seventh inning of a baseball game, everything stops, and the whole crowd gets up and stretches, and they play “Take me out to the ball game” and other traditional songs.

I know you already knew this, because apparently just about everyone but me does. I had heard of the seventh inning stretch, but I honestly thought it was called that because that’s about the time when everyone started to get bored, so it seemed like it went on forever. The seventh inning stretch.

I somehow managed to miss learning this information despite having lived half a lifetime in the country whose national pastime baseball, supposedly, is. Okay, so I’m not into team sports, and my friends tend to be readers, not sports fans.

Still, though. I’m educated, well read, and (I thought) pretty well informed. How does that happen?

And what else don’t I know?

Guilty?

The city’s Department of Environmental Protection (did you know we had one of those?) claims to have discovered the source of that weird maple syrup smell that periodically wafts over the city: a factory in New Jersey that develops and makes flavors. According to them, the smell comes from a reaction that occurs during the processing of fenugreek seeds.

I still prefer my explanation, which is that the city is testing spreading patterns of gases to help with response planning in the event of a gas attack. If it’s Frutorom instead… I guess that means they’re not testing to see how gases spread through the city?

That’s just swell.

I’m trying to look on the bright side: maybe they’re lying.

During President Barack Obama’s inauguration speech, I sobbed. It wasn’t just a tear or two, rolling down my cheek. I positively bawled.

Listening to him speak, reading what he has said or written, or even just looking at photos of him, always makes me cry. It’s a little frustrating. I know he’s just a man, and he’s not perfect. I just wish I could listen to him speak without needing a tissue.

Mostly these are tears of joy. He’s a Democrat, he’s a good man, the election was uncontested. He makes sense when he speaks, and he doesn’t talk down to us. He’s inspiring, calm, and visionary.

They’re also tears of exultation, that the racial barrier has been broken in my lifetime.

And they are tears of simple relief, that we finally have a president who respects science, the environment, human rights, and other countries’ sovereignty. We have a long way to go, but finally, we have hope. That feels good, but somehow, it hurts, too.

Because partly, these are tears of grief. It’s been a long eight years, and a long time since I felt proud of my country and my president.

George W. Bush did a lot of damage, within this country and around the world. I don’t want to go into a litany of everything he’s done wrong. It would take too long, and better minds have done it. Bush himself believes history will exonerate him; I think history will damn him.

And I know there are people out there who want President Obama to fail, so they can be right. That makes me cry, too. I never wanted Bush to fail. To be arrested, maybe. But why would I want the leader of my country to fail? His failures hurt all of us, as we’ve seen these last eight years.

We have all suffered for so long. And now we have a president who is a true leader and a true uniter, and who believes in the Constitution, and in the ideals this country was founded on.

I don’t know what to call this emotion, but it’s bigger than I am. It makes me cry.

Have you ever smelled maple syrup in the air, in New York city? I have. According to Gothamist, it’s back.

Gothamist has been tracking it, which is awesome; their map has Mrs. Butterworth as the icon, showing how wide the cloud of syrupy aroma has spread, and they’ve documented each date, as well. I first smelled it just before Halloween, 2005.

It’s not an unpleasant smell, to me, though some people don’t like it. The problem is, it’s not one of our usual smells. There’s no maple syrup factory in the five boroughs, as far as I know, no reason why we should all suddenly smell a pancake breakfast.  It’s not like oh, sometimes when the wind is right, you can smell Vermont…

The first time I smelled it, I swear, I ran home and put the news on, sure that some factory or fleet of trucks had had some enormous, comical accident. Nothing.

Nothing from the police, nothing from the mayor. Not  a word on what this thing might be.

Naturally, I have a theory. I think that it’s some government agency, testing to see how gases travel in the city. You  know, you release a harmless gas, with a distinctive odor, at Grand Central, and see how far that thing travels. You can’t tell anyone what you’re up to, because people might object to being experimented on, and it also lets “the terrorists” know that we’re, I don’t know… trying to be prepared? There must be some important, government-agency-type reason why we can’t know what they’re up to.

I’m not too concerned about it, though I’m usually fairly paranoid about these things. Maybe because it’s maple syrup. I worry much more when I smell something nasty. Somehow I don’t think anyone would bother to scent, say, sarin gas with a pleasant aroma. Apparently sarin is odorless. So if you don’t smell anything right now… maybe you should be worried.

Meanwhile, report all non-pancake-induced scentings of maple syrup to gothamist.com.

Here’s hoping that, whatever it is, it’s harmless. *chink*

One of the most common arguments against gay marriage is the notion that allowing same-sex couples to marry means “redefining” what marriage is: a sacred contract between one man and one woman.

My favorite irony is that the Bible is full of polygamy, and incest to boot. Defining marriage as the union of one man and one woman who are not closer than second cousins is a very different definition of marriage from what is in the Bible. And there are lots of other rules in there that don’t make sense any more, like the ones against eating shellfish and wearing clothing with mixed fibers. Not to mention the fact that not everyone believes the Bible is law.

One good thing about all this controversy is that a whole new crop of people gets an opportunity to understand that it’s about their own personal distaste for something that doesn’t actually warrant it. Just like people used to loathe the idea of a racially mixed marriage. They made up all kinds of reasons why it was “wrong,” reasons which sound just like what some people are saying about gay marriage. Really, what it came down to was a prejudice which they had been taught.

I think I was about ten years old when I was watching “The Jeffersons” on tv one day. On the show, Tom and Helen Willis, the interracial couple from upstairs, were sitting on the couch in George and Weezy’s apartment, and at one point, they turned and kissed each other on the lips. For no reason I can pinpoint – just a personal tipping point – all of a sudden I noticed that I was looking at them with distaste. That’s just wrong, I was thinking. And for the first time, it occurred to me to ask, Why? I had been taught to hate and fear black people, certainly, but in mostly subtle ways. And, I had been taught that racism was wrong. These two ideas collided in my head and what came out was, What the heck? Why was I thinking that? There is no reason!

This is happening all the time, right now. With the race thing, the gay thing, with all kinds of things. Maybe some 10 year old is watching a “Will & Grace” rerun right now, having the same experience. This is one of those things that’s getting better all the time, and my brothers and sisters… I know it’s hard to wait. But it’s coming. The times they are a-changin’, constantly.

I can barely look at this

We had a cockroach incident in the kitchen this evening. I’m still recovering, having a beer while washing every pot and pan I have, before I can proceed with making dinner.

In New York City, cockroaches are everywhere. It doesn’t matter who you are or how much money you have, there are cockroaches in your building and in the restaurants where you eat. They’re scuttling around on the streets, and infesting the subways.

I found a dead one in my dishwasher when I first moved to the city. It took me six hours to muster up the courage to pick that thing up (with many layers of plaster bags) and dump it down the trash chute. I’m a little more sanguine now. I deal with them, even the live ones, immediately. I just curse a lot, loudly.

Thank god for winter. I know that with the constant heat and moisture in other, more jungly parts of the world, these monsters get really big. But they get pretty big here, too. Big enough to fly. Did you know cockroaches could fly?

You might call them by another name when they get that big. You might call them “water bugs” or “palmetto bugs.” Do not be fooled. I did the research. That is not a different species you’re looking at, that is a big ol’ cockroach flying straight at your head. I always say, if I ever get a cockroach caught in my hair, I have to set myself on fire. There’s no living after a thing like that.

I came home from work one steaming hot summer midnight to find a great, big, disgusting, horrible, flying cockroach in my bedroom. I swear, I almost moved out on the spot. Instead, after I mustered my courage, my cat and I stalked it around the apartment until I could finally corner it long enough to napalm the thing to death. If I had to do that often, I think I might actually leave the city. For somewhere very, very cold.

That’s the only flying one I’ve had so far (touch wood). But I’ve had lots of the regular, running-creepily-fast kind. I used to get one gigantic cockroach every season. Four times a year, I can handle that. But I think now my landlord is cheaping out on the exterminator. A few months ago I had four in three days. There was one earlier this week. And now this one tonight.

It’s stressful. They’re enormous, and they’re tough. You drown them with Raid^TM, and they just keep struggling. Usually at some point they come right at me. I feel like Jack London and some freakin’ bear. Part of me feels sorry for them, I mean they’re obviously in some distress. And part of me wants a flamethrower.

A friend in Shanghai told me he had a cockroach in his apartment that was so enormous, it was trapped in his apartment. He couldn’t get at it to kill it. Regular poisons (Chinese poisons!) had no effect. It was so big, he said, he could see its intelligence. I don’t remember what he did to finally get rid of it; I think I blacked out when he described having to listen to it scuttling around at night.

I make a conscious effort in my life not to hate any living thing. I even made a vow, not to kill. But all of that goes away when I have a cockroach in my apartment. It turns into the Lord of the Flies over here. And I will use anything to kill the beast. Any concern for the environment goes straight out the window.

I justify it to myself, by saying well, killing an insect isn’t like killing an animal that has an autonomous existence. An individual cockroach is like one of the cells in your body. I’m not killing the whole hive. Or whatever you call them. (shudder)

Although… given the chance? Hand me that flamethrower.

Holiday sales were down, for the first time since 9/11. The auto industry continues to implode. Real estate has tanked. The banking industry is in shambles. The stock market is wobbling. Consumer confidence has bottomed out. Unemployment rates are the highest they’ve been in 30 years, and more layoffs are planned in the new year. The specter of the first Great Depression looms large for all of us in the US. Manufacturing is in the worst slowdown since that time.

The conflict in Israel is heating up again. A suicide bomber in Iraq just killed a group of people who had gathered to discuss reconciliation. In Afghanistan recently, men on motorcycles threw acid on girls for attending school.

Honey bees are disappearing around the world. Factory farm methods are promoting desertification. With three quarters of the world’s food coming from only eight different plant species, the world is more vulnerable to catastrophic famine than ever before.

Solar activity is rising. The Yellowstone supervolcano is in “high-threat” for a massive eruption. The earth’s magnetic field is fractured, and may be preparing for reversal.

Arctic sea ice is at a record low. The Wilkins Ice Shelf in Antarctica is eroding rapidly.

Our species is long overdue for a devastating flu pandemic.

I’m learning how to make bread.