Blame Game Winner: The Guns

A state panel is trying to lay blame on school officials for the extent of the Virginia Tech massacre. If school officials had issued a school wide warning sooner, if they had kicked Cho out of school, on and on, none of this would have happened.

I applaud the president of Virginia Tech defending his position amidst calls to resign.

What is it in our character that makes us have to have someone to go after? The guilty party is dead, but someone's head has to roll. Don't blame the school officials, blame the guns.

In the recent Newark schoolyard shooting, people are trying to blame illegal immigrants.

Don't blame the immigrants, blame the guns. Its simple.

Helmsley Heirs on a Short Leash

Even as an animal lover, I was horrified that the Queen of Mean left $12 million to Trouble, a white Maltese who lives up to his name.

But do the math --Mrs. Helmsley's estate is worth from $4 billion to $8 billion. Her gift to Trouble is at most .003% of her estate. That's 1/3 of one percent. If I left my little A. that percentage of my net worth, she would be begging for Kibble on a New York street corner. And Helmsley left all but $50 million to charity.

See? Its all relative.

Speaking of, Ms. Helmsley's human relatives fare worse. Two of four grandchildren get nothing, and "they know why", Helmsley states smugly in her will. The other two get less than Trouble, but the gift has sticky strings. They must visit their father's grave every year or be cut off immediately.

Shouldn't Helmsley want the grandkids to visit because they care? A forced visit is tainted. Even if they would have paid annual respects without prodding, each visit will reported by the New York Post, positioned as a homage to greed.

They remain under her thumb.

Was Helmsley afraid to stipulate they visit her own grave instead of her son's? Since Harry, Leona and son are all housed in the same mausoleum, a visit to the son equals a visit to Leona.

Ah, but even if the grandkids hit financial skids, they can always move in with Trouble.

Bill Maher Rules on Crocs

On Real Time with Bill Maher, Bill used his New Rules segment to take a bite out of Crocs.
Why does everyone feel superior and smug when it comes to these simple shoes?

Ladies and Germs

Are you paranoid about germs? No? Read "Talking Dirty" in today's London Times. Now are you paranoid?

The real question: are you paranoid enough?

The article tells you in chilling detail exactly how dirty everything is. Even a relatively easygoing person will find a few good tidbits to dwell on in this article. My favorite fun fact: the filthiest place is the ground floor button in an elevator. Don't ask "can you hit 1 for me please?" in the elevator anymore.

The article claims that women's bathrooms are dirtier than men's. I am skeptical; I have seen men's bathrooms. But I quote: "Women’s toilets were significantly more contaminated than men’s, with the middle cubicle usually the most contaminated of all. Airport toilets were the germiest of all."

"Researchers found that 64 per cent of the time the floor in front of the toilet in a public convenience was contaminated with faecal (English spelling) bacteria." How about 100 milligrams of poop per square inch on the bottom of your purse?

Like a Noodle in Crowded Cup

Riding the train from Baltimore to New York is miserable if its crowded as it often is on Sundays. I try hard to get a window seat so I can tune everyone else out. Last weekend, I ended up in the cafe car, a hit-or-miss proposition. This ride is a big miss; I just can't tune this one guy out.

Its like he just got released from a concentration camp, eating like a beast, pouring apple juice down his throat in fast gulps. First, he pours the juice from the bottle into a cup of ice then washes it down like its whiskey. Maybe it is.

The smell of beef makes me turn away, but he eats his sandwich fast in furious bites. He pulls out a quart of blueberry yogurt from his Au Bon Pain bag. I turn away. In seconds, I hear his spoon scraping the bottom of the empty plastic container.

He gets up and walks to the end of the cafe car. Those pants can't be his; they are several sizes too large. The excess fabric bunches at his waist. He paces to the other end of the car and returns with a coffee and a Cup O' Noodles.

Maybe he is cheating on a diet in the privacy of an Amtrak car, alone in the crowd. Maybe he figures yogurt and Cup O' Noodles are not that caloric. They are in those sizes, buddy. The "coffee" turns out to be hot water to bring the dried noodles to life. Eww, I can smell them.

He seems to have some attention deficit, pacing, eating re-situating his laptop. Now he's reading sheet music, muttering and waving his hand as the notes go through his head. I hate his caged animal energy and now that we've passed Trenton and passengers have departed, I wish he would move to one of the empty tables.

I would move myself, but I wedged my bag under the table and I'm worried I will struggle to spring the suitcase. But what goes in must come out, right? Including this guy's meal. Eww again.

Finish your Cup O Noodles already!

Walking on Circus Peanuts

I now own Crocs and I didn't have to buy them myself.

My dad bought me an orange pair, original formula. If I wear them with flared jeans, the donald-duckiness is diminished and they look funky, not freaky.

Why bother? Because they are beyond comfortable. The nubs in the inside are like the nubs on a plastic soap dish. The bottoms of my feet feel tingly and the tops of my feet capture the summer breeze.

I wore the Crocs to walk the dog, a little self-consciously. In the building elevator, I scanned the faces of the other passengers to see if they were looking at my feet. My dog Aimee stood further from me than usual.

Ol' Milwaukee Journal

I took this photo of Lake Michigan from inside Milwaukee's art museum. The museum, opened in 2001, was designed by famed architect Santiago Calatrava.

Plug "milwaukee art museum" into google images and see how different this building looks in various lights and at various angles. The photos of the "wings" opening make the museum itself look like a large white bird taking off.

See, Milwaukee has a lot more to offer than just beer and bratwurst. But the beer and bratwurst ain't bad either.

Check out my Milwaukee vacation journal.

Are Redheads as Good as Deadheads?

Redheads could be extinct by the year 2100, according to The Seattle Times. The article cites research by the Oxford Hair Foundation. The Seattle Times calls the foundation an "independent institution," but my internet searches tell me that OHF, independent as it may be, is the research arm of Proctor & Gamble.

Could P&G be hoping for a run on red hair dye products?

CBS also covers mentions the possible extinction in an article on redhead discrimination, but without any alarm.

Only four per cent of the population carries the gene for red hair. With the odds that a red hair gene carrier will marry a non-carrier and since the ginger gene is recessive, we redheads could really become extinct.

My husband (let's call him "Gene") and I both carry the gene, so we certainly would have had redheaded babies.

Did we do humanity a disservice in choosing not to have children? I doubt it.

Welcome to the Doghouse

Most shelter animals are a victims of circumstance rather than abuse. That is the point of the new ad campaign of Animal Care and Control of New York City.

Go to their adoption page, but I warn you, it'll break your heart.

Giving up the Bottle

I have decided to stop buying bottled water.

I don't drink it at home; tap water tastes fine. I don't order it in restaurants--seems pretentious. But I am unusually afraid of being thirsty and lacking access to water. Lack of water in my hands makes me nervous.

I have bottled water (usually Poland Springs) in the car on a road trip. I have a bottle at my desk (but I refill the bottle from the filtered water in the kitchen). I often buy a bottle on my way home from work to drink on the subway. Often. Very often. Almost every day.

I used to feel okay about this, even good about it. I am getting the mandatory eight daily glasses for sure, though I don't count them. Now its not okay, and I get it.

I will dig out a refillable plastic cup/lid with a scratched-up logo from an old beach bag, something I can put in my purse. Its not the branded water I care about; I care about portability. I can deal with a little less convenience, I think.

Tomorrow is Day 1. Let's see how I do.

Sienna Miller: "I Hate Being a Ginger!"

This shocking quote comes from the mouth of pretty little Sienna Miller. She had to dye her hair strawberry blonde to film a Dylan Thomas biopic. (How she suffers for her art!)

I only learned this June that the UK has a deep-seated hatred (fear?) of "gingers". (See my previous redhead posts.) Weird, I go through life and never noticing this prejudice and then, there it is, smacking you in the face.

Its not like you're a natural blonde, Sienna. (See roots in photo.) "Sienna" itself is a rather unattractive brown clay pigment.

The more ubiquitous "Burnt Sienna" (always my favorite crayon, ranked number 44 by Crayola) is a ginger color. Ironic, hey, Sienna? "Burnt"?

Oh, Sienna, you have a little carrot in your teeth there, honey.

Always an Usher, Never a Groom

I am only writing about the Usher wedding to use the above headline.

I have not seen any play on the "always a bridesmaid" adage in any of the accounts I read about Usher's "its-off!" , "no-its-done" wedding. Maybe the wordplay is too obvious, even for the rags that always use the obvious pun. (I'd better check the New York Post before I post.)

But since I mentioned the Usher wedding, I'll mention the other obvious point: the deck is stacked against them. If they're flip-flopping on the eve of their wedding when a couple should be the most in love, they don't stand a chance of success.

I hate to be so negative, but which "D" will be first? Delivery? or Divorce?

Mavis Takes You There

Mavis Staples played an hour-long free show at Rockefeller Park in Battery Park City tonight, a beautiful night, gingham all around.

Looking and sounding a bit huskier than in her glory days, she still possesses a voice that packs a soulful punch. Mavis started with some gospel numbers including "This Little Light of Mine", a song I remember from Vacation Bible School. She performed "The Weight" by The Band, crediting each member of The Band by name and Buffalo Springfield's "For What Its Worth".

Mavis talked to the audience about her family's long friendship with Dr. Martin Luther King and sang a long version of "Why? (Am I Treated So Bad)", inspired by the school integration in Little Rock. That song was Dr. King's favorite, Mavis said.

She ended with the classic 70's Staple Singers' hits, "I'll Take You There" and "Respect Yourself".