mere cat

Things That Come In Sheaves

Not long ago I read a piece by Jack Handey in the New Yorker, “The Symbols on My Flag (And What They Mean).” It was the funniest piece I have read by him; I even had to stop reading it on the train until I recovered my composure. Embarrassing.

When I saw this sheaf at the Panera Bread in Millbrae, I knew I had to share the link. You’ll understand the connection if you read it.

George Carlin’s Hair Poem

I was very surprised to hear that George Carlin died. Sure, he had a history of heart trouble, but still. I stopped following his career a while ago, but back in the day, I was a huge fan.

For my George Carlin tribute post I would like to share one of my favorite bits, the “Hair Poem.” I liked it so much I took the trouble to memorize it (I thought it would make me the life of the party or something). I still remembered most of it (Google filled in the gaps).

Hair Poem

I'm aware some stare at my hair.
In fact, to be fair,
Some really despair of my hair.
But I don't care,
’Cause they're not aware,
Nor are they debonair.
In fact, they’re just square.

They see hair down to there,
Say, “Beware” and go off on a tear!
I say, “No fair!”
A head that’s bare is really nowhere.
So be like a bear, be fair with your hair!
Show it you care.
Wear it to there.
Or to there.
Or to there, if you dare!

My wife bought some hair at a fair, to use as a spare.
Did I care?
Au contraire!
Spare hair is fair!
In fact, hair can be rare.
Fred Astaire got no hair,
Nor does a chair,
Nor a chocolate eclair,
And where is the hair on a pear?
Nowhere, mon frère!

So now that I've shared this affair of the hair,
I'm going to repair to my lair and use Nair, do you care?

Nice Shoes, My Man

Those who have seen me in real life know that I do not adorn my body with luxurious fabrics tailored in the latest style. Rather, I dress in the urban camouflage known as “business casual” (think Dockers® and button-down shirts—although I don’t wear actual Dockers®). I think I blend in perfectly with my surroundings, and as long as I keep up with the rest of herd, the lion ain’t gonna get me.

Once a long time ago (probably when I was in my ballroom-dancing phase), I stepped out a little and bought some notice-me shoes. I wear them rarely, because they just aren’t “me.” Monday night, however, I got myself all dolled up to go to Chris’ Jazz Cafe: wool trousers, one of my lobster ties, and these look-at-me shoes. Since I’ve always called these my “jazz” shoes, it seemed appropriate.

As I was walking along 16th Street, I thought I heard someone say, “Nice shoes, my man.” He couldn’t be talking about me, but I slowed down anyway. He repeated the compliment in a tone that unambiguously emphasized his sincerity. I had to laugh because it was so unexpected to receive any kind of compliment on my appearance (there’s a first time for everything, I guess). But you know, they are nice shoes. They really are.

Update: Albert shamed me into posting a picture of said shoes. i think they were better left to the imagination. :-)

Anne d'Harnoncourt Memorial Thursday [nanoblog]

Anne d'Harnoncourt, the director of Philly’s Museum of Art since 1982, died suddenly June 1. The Museum grew tremendously under her leadership, and she will be greatly missed. There will be a tribute this Thursday on the East Terrace featuring musical performances (including a Dixieland band... huh?) and eulogies by Philadelphia luminaries (including Michael Nutter). Admission to the Museum is FREE all day. I’ll bet that was her idea. (via artblog)

The Active Blogger Meetup RIP

<Maurice Chevalier accent>Ah, yes, I remember eet well: my first blogger meetup—in fact, my first meetup of any kind.</Maurice Chevalier accent>

I had been blogging in isolation since early 2002 and, amazing as it seems to me now, only reading a handful of other blogs by the onerous process of visiting each web site one at a time. In March, 2005, I was reading Drunkenbatman’s interview with Brent and Sheila Simmons, who together comprised Ranchero Software (makers of NetNewsWire, the RSS reader I eventually started using). Both were asked what blogs they read, and Sheila answered, “I like Blankbaby - he’s regularly quite funny and gives an interesting slice-of-life from Philadelphia.”

Philadelphia? There are bloggers in Philadelphia?! So I visited this “Blankbaby” person’s site, and the current post at that time invited people to come out to a “blogger meetup.” I joined Meetup.com forthwith and ventured forth on March 16, 2005, to the Independence Brew Pub. The rest, as they say, is history. Scott “Blankbaby” McNulty has been the tireless organizer of the monthly Active Blogger Meetup (there was apparently an earlier meetup that was “inactive”) since that day and has been paying the monthly fee faithfully ever since, never once asking for help.

Attendance has been erratic in the last year, and Scott has decided to resign as organizer. It is doubtful that anyone could ever fill his shoes. Myself, I’m only a 9-1/2 C (way too small), and even though I was a strong believer in the meetups, I was only attending them a few times a year. The purpose of this post is to thank Scott for his generous support to the meetup, which has enabled me to meet so many wonderful people over the years as well as getting me hooked on good beer. I am also pleased to say that Scott and I have enjoyed an asymptotic relationship—growing closer and closer over the years, without ever actually hugging. Thanks, Scott, for doing so much for so long!!!

Pat’s Lunch in Stone Harbor

On a visit to Stone Harbor earlier this year in March, my brother-in-law’s eagle eye spotted a sign advertising “Fresh Lobster on a Roll.” A lobster roll in Stone Harbor??? We swerved into the parking lot of Pat’s Lunch at around 5:00 PM. The restaurant was empty at the time, and the ebullient owner, Pat Tirotta, had a captive audience, so he began by fanning out press clippings about himself and his restaurant on the counter. It’s no wonder that the New York Times wrote a story about him back in 2001. Originally from South Philly, he has had this place since 1966 and is now 88 years old, obviously still going strong. Pat made us taste all his homemade soups, which we ordered. I sampled the lobster roll, of course, and regretted not bringing a camera.

88-year-old Pat Tirotta telling us youngsters a thing or two.

I finally got back to Pat’s last Saturday (a dreary, rainy day) with a camera to get some pictures. The lobster roll is pretty good, but it was quite salty and Pat doesn't grill the hot dog bun. Still, the fact that he even serves a lobster roll endeared him to me. Pat’s roll might not be worth a pilgrimage, but all of Pat’s soups certainly are, especially the she-crab. I bought a quart of it to go. The stories are pretty tasty, too.

The lobster roll at Pat’s Lunch.

I assumed Pat’s served the only lobster roll for miles around until I learned the next day that there’s another lobster roll in Stone Harbor at a new place called Quahog’s Seafood Shack. I’m sure I’ll be trying it sometime this summer. With two places, it looks like Stone Harbor is the lobster-roll capital of New Jersey.

Pat’s Lunch on Stone Harbor Boulevard.