RESURRECT DEAD ON PLANET JUPiTER

Jesus Fucking Christ. The elephant in the room of the whole Reverend Wright thing is that aside from his whole “white man made AIDS” spiel, he’s not so far off base.

Don’t think racism is still endemic in the United States? Troll the Northeast section of Phillyblog for about 10 seconds. Or read the comments on the story of the South Philly guy who died after an altercation with some North Philly kids on Wednesday. Here’s a selection. Reverend Wright has NOTHING on the people of Philadelphia:

If the government would just supply free iPods for the poor, these kids wouldn’t have to steal them and no one would get hurt… It’s all Bush’s fault.

All right. Haha. Very funny jab at the liberals.

We need harsh penalties! You steal, then you get a finger cut off. You rape then you can get you genitals cut-off. I guarantee crime would drop drastically.

Crime in Iraq wasn’t a problem under Saddam Hussein and penalties along the lines of that one are exactly why.

This is a hate crime against whites by blacks. As a 35 year old white male, I will not sit back and let this happen anymore. Enough is enough.

Sometimes the anonymity of the internet can be a lot like wearing a white sheet.

Why would a school for kids like that have a Jewish name? As a Jew, I want them to change it to Cecil B. Moore or Tubman High.

As a (half) Jew, Fuck you.

I assume my earlier comment is being censored - typical. Septa is having a boon year - how bout more officers on the platforms/trains, or placing security cameras on entry/exit locations?

That seems… sensible. And now on to:

why do we keep electing a mayor who is a loser? no one learned their lesson with Street?

This never would have happened with a white guy in City Hall!

Wow! And everyone was so angry because Rev. Wright exspressed himself, to what people said were imflamtory and racial remarks. Now look at all the imflamtory and racila remarks coming from the mouths of good wholesome hard working americans.

Although a little rough around the grammar, seems sensible.

I went to simon gratz and proud of it..these children need guidance..

So do you think this is the kind of person who Obama was talking about when he said:

“That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table.”

Years ago I used to go for late night walks around center city Philadelphia. Sometimes my walks would take me to the whole historic area. It being the United States, I always took some pride in the chance to stoop sit at the front door of Independence Hall.

I’d sit in quiet contemplation and look out over three centuries of growth. If it was late enough, I’d be the only person in sight. I felt lucky to have the opportunity. Being a pessimist, I figured that 1 good terrorist attack would lock the Mall down and put an end to my stoop sitting. Even then, it felt a little strange that I was allowed to be there. At the same time, I was confident in my right to be there.

Unfortunately I was right about the whole terrorist thing. Now you can’t get anywhere near the stoop without being screened for weapons and bombs first. Once in the hall, there’s not much room for sitting around. Tours are strictly timed and monitored by armed guards.

Which brings me to last Saturday’s daytime walk through center city. I ended up down on the Mall for the first time in a long time. There I saw the new “People’s Plaza;” a small area of stone tile about 50 yards from anything, that’s been put aside for the use of first amendment lovers. Here’s a picture of me standing on the edge of the new free speech zone:

All in all, the zone wasn’t too inspiring. Now if I were more of an organizer type, I’d encourage everyone out there to go to the official Free Speech Area and do something interesting. Stage a performance. Shout at tourists. Protest the Free Speech Zone. Use it as home base for a game of tag, or strip naked, cover yourself in pigs blood and defecate on a burning flag. After all, it’s your space, people.

Last night I had a dream about an American Kestrel. It was a beautiful, colorful bird and it stared intelligently at me from its perch a few feet from my window. A few minutes later some asshole knocked on my door with the Kestrel in his mouth. He had killed it and thought it would be funny to spit its mangled body on my doorstep. He thought I’d think it was funny, but I didn’t. The whole dream left me a little perturbed.

That’s why coming into my office this morning, looking out the window and seeing 2 beautiful American Kestrels perched on a tree outside my window was so odd and inspiring. I watched them until they flew off together. That’s also why today – March 25th – is heretofore American Kestrel Day.

So what is an American Kestrel? It’s a small falcon. A falcon is a bird of prey. Contrary to popular belief a falcon is not a hawk.

American Kestrels are small (Robin or Pigeon size) common and colorful. Their home range is basically the entire North American continent. They eat bugs, songbirds, lizards and rodents. They’re sometimes eaten by larger birds. They generally mate for life and share egg incubation responsibilities between the sexes. They make their homes on ledges, crevices and in human provided nest boxes. They live short lives (5-10 years) but seem to enjoy themselves well enough. They sound like this.

And that’s all for Kestrel Day.

On Saturday I was out on Market Street when I noticed a crowd of about 70 people at the corner of 11th. I could hear a street drummer and a horn player, but I couldn’t tell what else was going on. As I walked up, I saw that it was a team of performers.

For a street show, the production was tight. There was music, breakdancing and circus sideshow style stunts. The guy leading the whole thing had a huge crowd presence and kept everyone thoroughly entertained between acts.

The grand finale involved a spectacular jump/flip over a bunch of randomly selected audience members. (There were 7 at one point, but I think he sent a couple back.)

I had my camera, but failed to get a decent shot of the pre-finale jump. (over the heads of 2 small children) I hit the shutter a split second too soon and got a shot of the performer’s airborne back.

As they were gearing up for the finale, one of the performers saw me and my big camera and assumed I worked somewhere important. He designated me the official photographer and made sure I had an unobstructed space to shoot from.

This was all well and good, but suddenly I had to get the shot. There would be 1 chance. I increased the ISO (800) and chose a fairly wide aperture (3.5) to ensure a fast shutter speed (1/1000th of a second). I shut off autofocus and picked a mid-jump point to set the camera to. He ran, he jumped, I waited a split second and hit the shutter.

A few months ago, I noticed a box put out to trash on my neighbor’s curb. I don’t pick through the garbage as much as I used to, but this box was full of books and I couldn’t resist. It was mostly college texts and crappy novels, but mixed in with them I found a high school yearbook.

Its front cover was embossed with the owner’s name. The inside pages were filled with messages from her acquaintances. While I don’t find much good in excessive attachment to the past – especially the high school past – I still had a hard time understanding why someone would throw away their yearbook. Even an embittered sentiment-less bastard keeps their yearbook stashed somewhere in the back of their closet. Even if you never look at it, open it, read it or think about it, you keep it.

I could only think of 2 reasons to throw it away, death or a willful attempt to forget. Since I like mysteries, I stuffed it in my bag and took it home for review.

When I got home and opened it up to investigate, the yearbook felt vaguely familiar. It was exactly as old as my own and from the same general place. The students were all my age. They had the same hairstyles and listened to the same crappy 90’s bands that my own classmates listened to.

What I found out about the owner was remarkable only in its banality. There was nothing extraordinary or particularly interesting about it or her. She had immigrated to the United States at some point during childhood. Judging by her name, I decided that she was born in a Scandinavian country to a locally born mother and British or American father. By the time she was in high school, they’d moved to the Philadelphia suburbs.

The messages were dull, even by high school yearbook standards. People called her brave for moving to the United States and most of them repeated things like “even though you were so quiet” or “we didn’t get to know each other too well, but…” The only unusual thing was the dearth of male signatures. It was a co-ed school, but only girls signed her yearbook. There were no exceptions.

Was her time in high school lonely? She had no apparent close friends and she had no boy, friends or boyfriends at all. Was there nothing in her memory valuable enough to keep the yearbook packed away in some box?

Or did no boys sign because she didn’t like them to begin with? Was high school a time spent locked up in some self-imposed shell? Had her life since high school blossomed into something that made those years expendable? Did she look back on them as wasted or worthless time unworthy of a place on her bookshelf?

Had something happened in her life that made her want to abandon her old life completely? Was she moving on with a clean slate? Was this book in the trash part of some much larger purge?

Or maybe it wasn’t her yearbook at all. Maybe it belonged to an old roommate, who moved out in a rush or on bad terms. Maybe it just got lost in the shuffle and eventually, tossed out completely.

In the end, I actually don’t actually care. Mostly I like telling stories and imagining scenarios.

Dear Alix,

While I can’t say that I’m glad that you’ve found happiness – because you haven’t – I can say honestly and without malice that I’m happy that you’re finally getting the help that you need. As I’m sure you’re aware, admitting your addictions, dysfunctions and fears is the first step towards recovery.

With a little hard work, focused determination, a change in diet, plenty of exercise, weekly therapy, a few plants, a cat, the support of friends, a temporary leave of absence, a hobby or two, installation of Chromalux lights, a conservative regimen of pharmaceuticals and a little luck, you might pull yourself out of this depression.

You might want to consider volunteering your time at a homeless shelter. There’s nothing wrong with finding your center this way. You’re not a starving child in Africa, so don’t feel bad about throwing away your leftovers! Go see a movie. There’s no shame in going alone. Spring is right around the corner. Get out and enjoy life.

On a personal note, I’m deeply sorry that your book hasn’t been published. To be completely honest – and this is something you need to hear – the editors are right. You’re not a good writer. Your characters fail to develop in any meaningful or interesting way, the writing is clumsy beyond repair and it’s clear that you’re reaching far beyond your base of experience. I don’t mean to completely discourage you because it’s not all bad. The plot is structured well and obviously has a lot of thought invested in it. In capable hands, who knows how effectively it could be developed?

But anyway, I hope this note finds you well. Things with me are busy, but good. To be honest, sometimes I envy you. Travel is tiring and the tedium of 80-hour weeks is excruciating. You know how I hate the bullshit and small talk that goes along with stroking every dick attached to a name. If you never have to swallow the crap of some asshole with your life in his hands, you’re better off. My life is like a political campaign, except that I’m always running and there’s never an election. It can be an exhilarating ride, but I’m not sure you’re cut out for it. Sometimes I don’t even know if I am. Just believe me that you’re better off.

It’s getting late and I should wrap this up. I hope you’re glad to hear from me, I’d just been thinking that I should reconnect. Deb told me about your brother and about the rehab and I realized how long it’s been. I can’t believe that Terminal Unrest was 6 months ago. What an awful night. I’m sorry I never called.

May success never find you.

Quinn

When I was just a wee child, City Hall was the tallest building in Philadelphia. Being a kid, I judged it to be about as tall as the Empire State Building. I was also under the flawed understanding that the Society Hill Towers were generally the same size as the World Trade Center. As I got older, I realized that my sense of space and proportion had been a little bit off.

But anyway, during the 20th century, while downtown centers bloomed and economies exploded in places like New York and Chicago, Philadelphia reacted a little differently. Instead of embracing urban growth, the city treated it like some kind of danger, stifling it before it could sink the dangerous teeth of success and prosperity into the hearts of ordinary Philadelphians.

And so for more than 8 decades developers agreed not to build anything taller than William Penn’s hat. With limited downtown real estate, the only place you can build is up. In Philadelphia you couldn’t do that. For decades, the city’s downtown sat around like a stagnant larvae infested puddle.

That’s why yesterday’s HUGE announcement of the American Commerce Center is so un-fucking-believable. While Philadelphia broke the City Hall gentleman’s agreement in the mid-80’s, we still shy away from thinking and acting really, really big.

But ACC is really, god damn big. Take the newly completed Comcast Center and put City Hall on top of it. Give or take a foot or 2… it’s that big. As a matter of perspective it’s taller than the Empire State Building, it’s taller than the WTC (RIP) it’s taller than the Sears Tower. If it appeared today, it would be the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere. By the time of its hypothetical completion, it will be the 3rd tallest.

What does this mean? Actually it means quite a bit. One 1500’ tower would do a lot to change how people view the city. Perception brings money. So do 1500’ towers. The building would become an icon. People would want to locate to it, work in it, spend money in it, live near it. It’s more an investment than a skyscraper.

And recession, depression or whatever, it actually might happen. As the Philadelphia Business Journal noted today:

Walnut Street Capital, a Philadelphia development company, and a pension fund from Washington state are allying to develop the project. The pension fund, which has $6.18 billion in assets, is financing the project, Miller said. This enables the project to skirt around the current credit crunch that is starting to put a damper on commercial projects.

Finally I can’t end this without mentioning that this story broke on phillyskyline.com. Brad Maule scooped absolutely everyone in getting word out on this yesterday. If and when this building does get built, you heard it from him first. Although a few blocks to the northwest of its proposed location here’s an approximate view of the new tower from Brad’s house:

Thanks to Drew Mathes at the skyscraper page forum for the rendering and Brad for the original photo.

On my way to work, I spotted former Mayor John Street out for an early morning stroll along the Schuylkill River trail. While some might say this is tantamount to seeing Lynne Abraham buying frozen cod at Trader Joe’s, or catching Hurricane Schwartz browsing porn at TLA, spotting the elusive Mr. Street is a rare and thrilling experience.

Like a mountain lion or an Ivory Billed Woodpecker, the retired mayor keeps a low profile, rarely appearing in public. I actually wouldn’t have ID’d him today if it weren’t for the noisy swish, swish sound of his read windbreaker. Why?

Mr. Street was in disguise. He wore his hooded windbreaker over a hooded sweatshirt. Both hoods were up, obscuring his trademark hair. On top of this, he wore a pair of sunglasses. To the untrained eye, he might have gone unnoticed enjoying an anonymous morning walk. Instead he suffered the invasion of privacy that comes with someone seeing you and thinking to themselves, “Hey that was John Street. Does he think he’s Tom Cruise or something?”

But faults aside, I was having warm thoughts of the Street administration while on the Schuylkill River Trail earlier this very week. I saw a plaque affixed to the Walnut Street bridge with his name on it. Street was Mayor when the trail was built. I’m a big fan of the trail. Sometimes you can only see the good after the relationship is over.

Imagine a skyline of farms:

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To learn more about this and other urban farm solutions, go here, or to CCP next Monday (Screw the drunken mobs) at 6:30 to hear a lecture by Columbia University’s Dr. Dickson Despommier. Personally I’d like to know if a farmscraper makes economic sense. If so, my suggested location is 2nd and Girard.

LA’s got them. So does New York, Las Vegas and San Francisco. What are they? Wood cutouts of birds, painted, tethered and slung over wires. It’s the same concept of throwing up old sneakers… only its birds. (or as the artist calls them, berds) While the artist won’t disclose their deep and significant meaning, I’d say that they’re cute and even a little bit whimsical. They’ll put a smile on your face and brighten your day.

And street art savvy town as it is, it was only a matter of time before they started to appear in Philly. Only here they’re guns. And here they frighten people. They even inspired a particularly street ignorant Daily News commentator to call the police and ask if they were related to “gang activity.” Way to go Philly!

There are many ways I can judge Vetri. Half a month’s rent is one. Gas costs for a 7,000 mile drive in a Prius is another. (mainly highway) But these things are unimportant. Vetri has been called one of the best Italian restaurants in North America by publications like Bon Appetit and Gourmet Magazine and by chefs like Mario Batali. Even if I can only justify a trip every 4 or 5 years, it’s worth every penny.

I go with just one rule. When you go, you’ve got to go all the way. Failing this rule will leave you with a good, but incomplete experience. Going all the way means the 5 (or if you live by Batali’s motto “excess is just barely enough” the 7) course tasting menu paired with wines chosen by the restaurant. No restrictions either. If they want to feed you foie gras stuffed sweetbreads wrapped in a pork kidney and served over braised baby goat, then let them.

Last Thursday I went with my girlfriend. (we split the bill) Here’s my assessment:

As we walked in the door, the restaurant already had a big strike against it. I’d hyped the dinner up so thoroughly and for so long, that it would be nearly impossible for it to live up to my lofty praises.

Then came a huge miss. Whether it was due to a pacing problem in the kitchen or because of a room full of unusually slow diners, Vetri was backed up. We arrived within 5 minutes of our reservation, but our table was just getting desert. Co-owner Jeff Benjamin looked angry. He paced around for a while before disappearing into a vestibule door. We didn’t see him for the rest of the night. As we waited, more parties arrived only to find their tables still occupied.

More than half an hour later, we sat down. Seconds after that came a platter of complimentary cured meats. With one taste, my annoyance melted away like the lardo on my tongue. In all, there were 2 pieces each of 9 or so varieties of pancetta, prosciutto, sausage and various other things I’d never seen or tasted before. Like most everything at Vetri, all was produced on site.

Amazingly, the deficit dug by the hype and the wait were nearly obliterated with just a few small pieces of pork. Then came the official 5 course tasting menu… + an extra pasta dish, + an extra entrée, + a desert course, + a second desert plate… In the end, we could hardly walk home, but:

It all started light. Light wine, light dish. As the courses kept coming, the food and wine grew heavier and more complex. The pairings were perfect and the momentum of the menu carried it along brilliantly. As our 5 course-tasting menu was expanded to 7-8 courses and 6 glasses of wine, early problems worked to our advantage.

Here’s a basic run-down:

1. Cured Meats paired with local, roasted vegetables. Discussed above. (beautiful)

2. Crudo del giorno: Antipasti plate of raw fish (forget what kind) microgreens, sweet onion, blood orange. (excellent)

3. Seared Nantucket bay scallops over a celery root salad. (brilliant)

4. Split appetizer course:

- For her: Brown onion crepe, white truffle inside. (****!)

- For me: Cauliflower flan, egg yolk and black truffle inside, topped with crispy pancetta. (****!)

5. Split pasta course:

- For her: Spinach gnocchi, one of Vetri’s signature dishes.

- For me: I have no idea what type of pasta I ate, but it was the best pasta I’ve ever had. Words fail to describe.

- A plate of beet ravioli to share.
(all pasta was transcendental)

6. And then the entrée. Here’s what the New York Times said about the guinea hen late last year:

I couldn’t work my way through as much of the menu as I do when I review a New York restaurant and visit more frequently. But most of what I ate was wonderful, suggesting to me that Vetri ranks with the very best Italian restaurants in New York… And of that guinea hen, so incredibly tender, and stuffed with not only prosciutto but also foie gras and a mixture including ground thigh meat, innards, nutmeg and pistachio.

- We both got the guinea hen, but a small third plate of rabbit and snail spiedino with parsnip brown butter crema was put in the middle of the table for us to share.

7. And then after the grapefruit sorbetto was desert.

- For her: Chocolate soufflé with some kind of gelato… I think.

- For me: Walnut Tart with olive oil gelato. (Amazing)

- After desert, they brought us a tray of bite size sweets.

With each course, wine was paired perfectly. All was Italian and I don’t remember enough about each one to try to talk about them here.

At the end of the night came the bill. Few places are so completely worth it.

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* one other thing that I’d like to say. When we sat down, the couple next to us was Italian. So was the family sitting next to them. When the couple next to us left another Italian woman sat down with her boyfriend. When I say Italian, I mean that one or all of the people at the table spoke Italian. In an Italian restaurant, I take that as a good sign.

** one other thing. The dining room is comfortable and intimate. As long as the place isn’t overtly unpleasant I don’t care much about the whole ambiance dimension. Vetri isn’t a Stephen Starr restaurant and all I can say is thank god for that.

I’m a big fan of them. For example, did you know that Michael Nutter keeps his public schedule on one, or that Beer Week has one of its own? Getting drunk and stalking the mayor has never been so easy.

Tonight I go to Vetri. It will be my second trip in 4 years. When you think about it, it’s still cheaper than going to Italy.

Don’t ask me why, but last night my TV was tuned into the Fox 29 10:00 news. It was mostly background noise until a story came on about a rape in “South Philadelphia.” From the visual, I saw that they were talking about last week’s fucked up story about the girl who jumped out of her window at 3rd and South. She did it to avoid an attacker.

Horrible story aside, South Street has been in Center City for at least 30 years. South Philadelphia it isn’t.

Local news is notorious for misrepresenting neighborhoods, especially when something good or bad happens. Rash of muggings on Penn Campus? Call it West Philadelphia. New brewpub at 50th and Baltimore? Call it University City. Rape on South Street? Suddenly it’s South Philadelphia.

This is common. It’s flawed, damaging, dangerous and acts like a cancer in the minds of an already deeply divided and distrustful Philadelphia population, but we’re all pretty much used to it. Everyone knows and expects the news to carve up neighborhoods by race and class rather than anything crazy like physical geography. It annoys us when it happens in our own neighborhood, but mostly we ignore it…

…Unless that misrepresentation is so glaring that you’re inspired to write about it and point it out to people over the internet. Like this:

On February 25th, some students at a highly esteemed public school are attacked in front of that school at 17th and Spring Garden. The Daily News’ Mensah Dean writes an article including the quote:

Green, who teaches at another city school, Kensington Culinary Arts High School, said he wanted a greater show of city police around the Center City school, starting today.

“What I want the city to do is protect these kids, coming and going to and from school,” Green said while standing in front of the school, which in November was ranked the nation’s 53rd best public high school by U.S. News and World Report magazine.

One week later, the Daily News’ Mensah Dean writes a follow-up, this time profiling one of the kids arrested in the attack. He attended Benjamin Franklin High at Broad and Spring Garden. Just as in the first article, she interviewed and quoted an employee at a neighboring school.

“It’s typical of what occurs in Philadelphia schools,” said Veronica Joyner, chief administrative officer of the Mathematics, Civics and Sciences Charter School, at Broad and Hamilton Streets, in North Philadelphia. “Administrators don’t report incidents because they don’t want to look bad.”

“They continue to groom criminals. When they stop grooming them, that’s when we’ll stop having them,” she said.

Let’s review then. Two articles written by the same journalist and reporting on the same incident. The articles are separated by one week. In article one, Masterman is in Center City. In article two, the MCSC Charter School (and by inference nearby Ben Franklin High) are in North Philadelphia.

Just in case you’re unfamiliar with the geography, Masterman is exactly as far north as Ben Franklin High. The schools are on the same east/west street, less than 3 blocks apart. The MCSC Charter school is about a block and a half south of both of them. Worst of all, MCSC is directly adjacent to the Daily News offices at Broad and Callowhill.

Mensah Dean could have gotten her North Philly quote by leaning out her Center City office window… or vice versa. No matter if she wrote in the neighborhood name herself, or an editor changed it to better reflect the stereotypes and fears of the DN readership, it’s still flat out wrong to describe Masterman as Center City and Ben Franklin as North Philly.

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Just to end, I understand that neighborhood names are a matter of perspective. Any random citizen on the street might call the area, Fairmount, Art Museum Area, North Philly, Spring Garden, Center City, The Loft District or Chinatown North. A Masterman student might say they go to school in Center City and a Ben Franklin kid might say they go to school in North Philly.

Neighborhood boundaries – especially in Philadelphia – aren’t set in stone. With that said, although this story played out in a neighborhood with many potential names, it did play out in one of those neighborhoods. The names reported carry very different connotations. In this case, word choice can only be described as bias. Theoretically, bias is something newspapers attempt to avoid.

Yes, it’s that time of the month! As always, I’ve spent the last month monitoring the search terms that led people to dovate.com and picked the best for the monthly round-up:

33. skull surrounded in shadow
32. a real picture of saturn?
31. homemade turkey sandwich
30. gay spring
29. mastrubating my pussy in public
28. apes mastrubating
27. mastrubating among animals pictures
26. amish girl balled
25. there was a young man from stamboul who soliloquized
24. tiny garden gnome
23. latest invention
22. hades the place
21. philadelhia baltimore inferiority complex
20. fierce white tigers
19. double vagina
18. craigslist hyperdimensional resonator
17. and incommensurable orders of being is a mental act of human intellects and it is a disputable one present day medical and psychological
16. homemade bird repellent
15. walker evans bathroom in the dog run photo
14. indian penis color
13. snorting tramacet
12. eating nuts and alcohol breathalizer
11. leg stocking bitch
10. verjan girl fuking
9. who’s that clown at my desk?
8. eagle vulture
7. dead bodies found in wissahickon valley pa
6. is fucking a dog safe
5. how many yugo convertibles were sold in the uk
4. picture of japanese fighter pilot on meth
3. history of ape human
2. jewish things
1. what would be a reason why a female could not bust a nut