My Crime Spree

I almost did a drive-by on the way home. I spotted a woman wearing a red leather jacket that looked delicious. She was about my size so it seemed like a safe bet it would fit me.

Naturally my thoughts turned to mugging her. I mentioned this splendid idea to Flip, who said it would be worth it to watch me kick the crap out of someone. Guys have no soul. I replied that I would prefer NOT to hurt her, and would only do so if I had no choice.

The jacket looked as if it invented red.

I ogled it some more.

"We can do this the hard way or the easy way," I would say. "Take off the jacket realllll slow and show me the label so I can tell if it's any good."

Red is tricky that way.

Of course if it wasn't up to my standards and I let her keep it, she would never wear it again. What woman would wear something that was rejected by a mugger?

The red leather jacket winked at me as she kept walking. It wanted me bad. The light changed and I gave it one more fervent gander before it waltzed out of my life forever.

That woman will never know how close she came to seeing God today.

A Goiter Man Nowadays Is Hard To Find

Does this make you want to rush out and fill up your car and gas cans RIGHT NOW? Or what?

Miss Demeanor

I flipped my first bird today. I have always eschewed such crudeness and vulgarity, but apparently I have it in me anyway. If I were a Congressman, I might say that I was drunk, but I don't drink. I was just crude and vulgar, and it felt WONDERFUL.

We were in heavy downtown traffic when a guy made a U-turn in his SUV, cutting us off and nearly plowing into two pedestrians seizing the day. We had begun our right turn so he stranded us in the intersection, having spotted a parking space that he couldn't get his behemoth gas guzzler into anyway.

I was a passenger, so I put my right arm out and showed him my middle finger. I flipped it three times. Vehemently. Suddenly that hand had a life of its own. I was so enchanted with my new ability that I did it again.

He raced after us and as he came alongside, he shouted, "Hey! You got something to say to me?"

"I already said it," I replied.

He whined. He actually whined. I hate it when guys do that. "I had the Right of Way because I was making a U-turn."

"That NEVER gives you the right of way," I said. "It isn't even legal." I'm pretty sure this is true even in California.

"Well, you should think twice about insulting people,'" he whimpered. He seemed a bit tearful.

Of all the buttholes in the world, I had to pick a sensitive one to insult.

"And YOU should learn to drive before you kill someone," I said. This brilliant exchange was deteriorating fast.

He blew me a kiss to show his moral superiority. I rolled up my window to retain mine.

I think from now on I'll go around giving everyone the finger. It's an idea whose time has come.

It seems I've turned a corner.

Book Meme

Lex has tagged me for this one. I'm sure I could have given a totally different set of answers, and they would be right, too.

1. ONE BOOK THAT CHANGED YOUR LIFE?

Dictionary. I used to read it for hours at a time when I was a child. I have always loved words.

2. ONE BOOK YOU HAVE READ MORE THAN ONCE?

The Little Prince by Antoine de St.Exupery and The Smile at the Foot of the Ladder by Henry Miller. Both lifelong favorites.

3. ONE BOOK YOU WOULD WANT ON A DESERT ISLAND?

A thick pad of yellow cap and many pens


4. ONE BOOK THAT MADE YOU LAUGH?

Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth


5. ONE BOOK THAT MADE YOU CRY?

The Pearl by John Steinbeck and Black Beauty by Anna Sewell.


6. ONE BOOK YOU WISH HAD BEEN WRITTEN?

Enlightenment For Dummies


7. ONE BOOK YOU WISH HAD NEVER BEEN WRITTEN?

The Roadkill Cookbook


8. ONE BOOK YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING?

The Gentle Order of Girls and Boys by Dao Strom


9. ONE BOOK YOU HAVE BEEN MEANING TO READ?

Teach Yourself Japanese


10. ONE BOOK YOU'RE GLAD YOU OWN?

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston


11. ONE BOOK THAT MUST BE READ ALOUD?
Leo the Late Bloomer by Robert Kraus


I tag d~, Michael C., and Urban Urchin.

Shock & Awe

No bombs were dropped on Alcatraz.

But I got to hold a rocket launcher. A ROCKET LAUNCHER!!! A really cute Marine set me up with it, and Flip snapped a cheesy picture of me looking tough. Not that I don't always look tough. I'm tough, see.

Today was the 25th annual San Francisco Air Show, featuring the Blue Angels, the U.S. Naval Flight Demonstration Squadron which performs formation and solo maneuvers using F/A-18 Hornets. This year marks the 60th anniversary of the Blue Angels, which have been in operation since 1946.

Last year they flew six planes in close formation under the Golden Gate Bridge. This time, cargo ships, pleasure boats and parasails won the right of way, but there were still enough stupendous tricks to make a thousand people hold their breath simultaneously. For about two hours, we hyperventilated with a thousand of our closest friends.

Beach blankets and camp chairs, beer and hot dogs, (mustard purveying buns to this vegetarian) and eardrum-shattering commentaries over the PA system competed with the sounds of warplanes streaking overhead. It was Woodstock with air power.

Even the sea gulls and pelicans seemed unnaturally excited by the event, circling back and forth in their own configurations in imitation of the planes. Don't they realize that the planes are really emulating THEM, that they are the original fliers? They should be proud.

The tight formations reminded this ex-pat New Yorker of the Radio City Rockettes. If those women were airplanes, they would be the Blue Angels.

The promoters set up a virtual wonderland for kids. Everything plastic that could be ridden on, jumped in, or climbed was there. I stalked one charmer with my camera, hoping for a shot of planes zooming by at the precise moment she swung to the top of a jungle gym-like apparatus. It would have been a strong statement: War planes juxtaposed with a beautiful, oblivious child intent on her play. It couldn't be done.

I added it to my mental graveyard of great shots that got away.

When I was in college, I signed up for flying lessons at the Ajax Flying School, the first one in the yellow pages because I was in a hurry. My parents were no slouches either. They canceled all my flights by canceling my allowance, having shrewdly set up my first checking account so canceled checks went to them, not me.

Amelia Earhart got to keep her record.

Watching six planes a mere 18 inches apart fly nearly 1,000 mph through loops and turns and upside down curlicues is such an amazing display that it's easy to forget these pilots are Naval officers. Their planes are designed to drop bombs on our enemies while moving so fast that they're hard to shoot down. A fantastic show, people, but These Are WAR PLANES! Its enough to make anyone patriotic.

I feel so much safer now.

Desperate Actors

The guys with wings in the Angel Soft Toilet Paper commercial should get together with the cloud-dwelling winged women in the Philadelphia Cream Cheese commercial. They could have cream cheese on toilet paper, hold the bagel. Or soar their dog together.

Birthday Boy

Today was the 104th birthday of my dear friend, Adolf. He and his wife, Miriam, were close friends of my parents and I knew them almost from the time I was born.

Adolf loves to tell me that I came into their lives screaming my head off. My older brother pushed me in my stroller around the corner and across a busy street, and I clearly did not want to be there. (He was probably pinching me or something.) I tell Adolf that I'm still screaming.

My reluctance changed before long because Miriam and Adolf were delightful, warm and lovely people. Their only child, Martin, who was several years older than I, was my first, unrequited crush. Martin became an architect, married someone who wasn't me, and had three daughters. Sadly, he died young of kidney disease.

Adolf lives in New York and I have lived in many other places so I haven't seen him since my mother's funeral in 1989, but we speak several times a week. He is my definitive proof that senility is not mandatory. He is totally blind now, but all his other faculties are intact, and work better than those of most people half his age. The world has changed dramatically in the century-plus he's been alive, and Adolf has total recall of all of it.

He intends to tell people he's in his 105th year now because it's so much more impressive than a mere 104. Adolf needs no help being impressive. He was an engineer, for many years the Far Eastern head of Westrex, a division of Western Electric. He lived in Australia and in Bombay, India, and traveled the world meeting with kings and presidents who commissioned him to bring Western technology to their countries. He has been retired for many years and lives alone in a little house near the ocean on Long Island.

This morning, I informed him it was time for us to have a serious talk about the future. He needs to think about what he wants to be when he grows up. He said he'd let me know as soon as he has a plan. Adolf is the only man who has ever called me "darling." Just one more reason I have a real stake in wanting him to live forever.