McDonald's Man

He is bearded and thin with black skin and droopy eyes. I think he’s homeless.

He has been sitting in the rear of a Union Square McDonald’s for over an hour. That’s only because I’ve been here for over an hour. I’m sure he’s been here much longer. It’s 9 degrees outdside.

A Persian-looking woman walked into the restaurant five minutes ago and said hello to the man, then made eye contact with me and said, “Thank you.” I did not understand.

She left the restaurant just a minute ago. Before leaving, she stopped by the homeless man’s table and dropped off a cup of soup for him and what looked like a large bill. His reactions seem a bit lethargic - he took in the gift, widened his face, then turned towards the departing woman. He slurred out a hearty “God bless you, maam. God bless you.” She turned an smiled before re-entering the icy weather.

I’ve been sitting here, feeling miserable and alone and ineffective and fat, but that little touch of humanity got me to start writing. Charity is infectious. Like art. It reminds us of the hope that lies beyond the reality of the moment.

The man’s face looks enlivened. He’s slurping and chewing the soup with relish. Now each person that passes him on their way out the door is receiving a “God bless you.” He’s not asking for change or charity. He’s only giving his blessing.

Rapid Temperature Drops

I think our current, erratic weather should be explained within the framework of a global climate system. This is mostly assumption - so sift it with a grain of sand - but I think we're experiencing a new pattern of volitile weather spasms, sparking up throughout the globe.

The world has heated up from a rolling simmer to a rapid-fire boil, with each new molecule asserting its right to exist.
It's a crowded field of independantly evolving systems.

This must be due to an arising field of climate conditions, which rapidly mingle to produce climatic boiling points.

I mean to say: all the details of weather (the heat, dryness, chill, moisture, wind, humidity, pressure) are swirling together into a series of perfect storms.

Today, in five hours, the temperature dropped 25 degrees. On January 6, 2007, the mercury hit 72 degrees. Those are surges of heat, pushing into and out of the northeast at wanton speed.

Between Auditions

I was walking across town on 42nd Street, from east to west. I'm sure some people must know this route.

So I walked past Bryant Park, crossed Sixth Avenue and ran into Queen Logorrhea. It's this women who tucks herself in between a Verizon store and a subway entrance and coos and coos about how we're all sinners. She speaks into a microphone, has a folding table piled with damning pamphlets, and uses horrific photos to illustrate her points. Her most consistent visual aid is a blow-up photo of an aborted fetus. But it's more than that. It's a friggin' DECAPITATED aborted fetus. And it is there every day.

People pour of their offices for lunch, mill around, look for a tasty sandwich and chips and then - Oh, it's a dead baby with no head! Better get a smoothie.

Yesterday's diatribe went like this: "These days people curse all the time. You hear them, every other word is a curse word. They could be high school dropouts or college graduates. It doesn't matter. They can't control their mouths. And why? Because they have dirty minds."

I glanced down at her photo and walked on.

Cantaloupe Autocracy

Today I walked into a Banana Republic. I shop for clothing once a year. Usually, it's the two months following Christmas - a holiday packed with gift certificates.

Anyway, I used a gift card today - one of my two annual shopping days - for some shirts and a sweater. Figured I'd get some stiching that'll keep me warm. Gotta stay warm.

I brought my items to the register.

A man at another register was raising his voice in complaint. I don't know what it was about. He looked upset. Kept saying, "Well I've been here for a HALF HOUR already!" A HALF HOUR!" He knew his fractions.

So I brought my items to the friendly cashier. She was filled with surprises. First, she folded my new clothes at a manic speed. Second, she informed me that I'd been randomly selected to earn 10% off my next Banana Republic purchase. (I asked her how random. She said, "like one out of twenty-five or something." Wow. That's just luck.) Third, she handed me my receipt with a breezy, "Have a great day! Enjoy your shirts!"

Enjoy your shirts? I was only planning to wear them.

(But it made me laugh. Ain't that worth it?)
(Aww shucks! I shucked it up again!)

"The Author of Liberty"

Who is the "author of liberty"? Could it be God? Is it the Statue of Liberty? If so, I didn't know she could write. That's pretty great for a statue.

At another point in Bush's "Please, Please Fight With Me" speech, he mentioned that American is a nation of "freedom and moderation." What's moderate in the US? Okay, there are Goo Goo Dolls, but they hardly tour these days. Obviously, Bush's writer opened up his Roget's Antitheses book and found "moderation" under "extremism." Cause, yeah, this country ain't made of Mennonites, if you know what I mean. (You don't. You might. Well, even if you do, it's not worth the joke). We've got Wal-Marts!

By the way, anybody hear that in Southeastern Pennsylvania, a local Wal-Mart was put out of business by Super Wal-Mart? Yeah, it's a shame. The town's just lost all it's character.

Scraps From A Bush Basket

"I feel that the pigeons of New York City should be armed with tiny missles. This is an age of insidious, covert terror and we should apply all cheap, natural resources to ensure a secure world for our future."

"The Israelis have inherited the right to fight. The Jews are a noble, fighting race."

"We are set to deploy a new army of sentient cyborgs for peackeeping procedures in Iraq."