another reason even people who don't like baseball should like the yankees

Vice President Dick Cheney spent about 20 minutes in Manager Joe Torre's office and in the clubhouse shaking hands with players before the Yankees beat the Boston Red Sox, 11-3, last night at Yankee Stadium.

Cheney studied the photographs inside and outside Torre's office and asked Yogi Berra, the Hall of Fame catcher, why he was playing the outfield in one picture. Cheney started watching the game from the private box of the Yankees' principal owner, George Steinbrenner, switched to a seat beside the Yankees' dugout for a few innings, then returned to Steinbrenner's box.

"I told him before the game I hope he brings us more good luck than he brings them," Torre said. "It's great any time a dignitary like that visits. It slaps you with pride."

No, Joe, it's nice when most dignitaries visit. At least your fans had it right.

During the singing of "God Bless America" in the seventh inning, an image of Cheney was shown on the scoreboard. It was greeted with booing, so the Yankees quickly removed the image.

there is something to be said for half day fridays. so much so that
there's no time here, but let it suffice to say that leaving work
early nearly makes up for having to be there in the first place.

what a dick.

CNN.com - Sources: Cheney curses senator over Halliburton criticism - Jun 24, 2004

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Typically a break from partisan warfare, this year's Senate class photo turned smiles into snarls as Vice President Dick Cheney reportedly used profanity toward one senior Democrat, sources said.

Sen. Patrick Leahy of Vermont, who was on the receiving end of Cheney's ire, confirmed that the vice president used profanity during Tuesday's class photo.

A spokesman for Cheney confirmed there was a "frank exchange of views."

Using profanity on the Senate floor while the Senate is session is against the rules. But the Senate was technically not in session at the time and the normal rules did not apply, a Senate official said.

remember back in history class where that senator beat the shit out of a colleague with a wooden cane? leahy should've done that. 1 dollar to whoever can remind me who that person was.

calverton

The Blog of Death

lots of thinking today...looking for a friend's supposed blog, i came across the blog of death, which sounds creepy, and is, i suppose, but nonetheless led me to this site -- www.findagrave.com. yep, find a grave. so i went there, and was able to find the following:

my grandparents.

John J Cartin
Birth: Sep. 8, 1914
Death: Jan. 17, 1997
SGT, US ARMY

Burial:
Calverton National Cemetery
Calverton
Suffolk County
New York, USA
Plot: 67, 0, 1568

Record added: Feb 25 2000

Catherine M Cartin
Birth: May. 15, 1916
Death: Sep. 25, 1990
TEC 3, US ARMY

Burial:
Calverton National Cemetery
Calverton
Suffolk County
New York, USA
Plot: 67, 0, 1568

Record added: Feb 25 2000

it's amazing what comes flooding back. and amazing to realize that he lived seven years without her. and amazing that i can place myself back there at calverton. few things astound me more than memory.

an evening at the ritz-carlton

it is not without good reason that nights out are typically not talked about on this little blog thing, as there are friends, pets, and personal details to protect, but this merits at least a few words.

last night with kath, i had the good fortune of going to an after work party hosted by a major pharma company - lily? pfizer? those purple pill people? it really doesn't matter. what is of consequence is that the tanqueray was free, and we chatted with some nice mba student types. i both pity them and wish them well. a career in finance? at a drug company? jesus.

from there, we proceeded downtown, where there was a tiny poodle to be walked and drinks [initially one. seriously] to be had at rise, a swanky, but nonetheless decent hotel bar at the ritz-carlton, battery park.

i'd not been there since our gala a few years ago, and it was nice to pretend to be an adult again, minus a tie. the area is fast becoming one of my favorite parts of the city, despite the fact that i could not afford to sleep on a bench in the park there. it's nice that the rich and poor are allowed to comingle, however.

as often happens these days, kath and i got to talking to a some complete strangers -- which are the best kind of strangers to talk to -- and learned that they were both from out of town AND one of them shared my name. how nice. while you might not think that a doctor of pharmacology and a finanical analyst would be the best people for folks like kath and i to hang out with, you would be dead wrong. i had a sinking feeling that they would insist on paying for everything, and as is often the case when i have that feeling, i was right.

be warned - drinks at the ritz come with price tags that make people accustomed to hanging out in beer gardens get into verbal altercations with bartenders. while i was fully prepared to pay my $10 for a glass of merlot, when you ask someone for "a nice chardonay" for your friend because they don't have pinot grigiot,you should not be given something that costs $18.

that's just rude.

that said, there are worse places to get ripped off.

two-and-a-half stars. three if they'd not let my dickie's pants wearing self to enter in the first place. brooklyn riff-raff.

because I'm a billionaire mayor, that's why.

This is why I like Bloomberg sometimes - more often than I'd like to admit, actually. He's about the only person I can think of with the nerve to disinvite a member of Congress to an event, and I think he makes a nice point: Screw NYC, Screw yourself.

from ">Gothamist:
Bloomberg has stuck to his guns of not being happy when federal money is not coming to New York City. Ney had voted against shifting $446 million to NYC and other "high-terror risk" urban areas, and therefore said Ney "wasn't welcome in my house." So then RNCC chairman just cancelled the whole lunch.

familial

a geographically distant but increasingly dear friend of mine recently got to discussing families, and the way we do and don't relate to parents, regardless of how close we are. it put me in the mind of something robert hayden wrote years ago, and something that for anyone who stumbles on these words is here to read now. that means you.

it just kind of teems with with all the frustration, longing and
quiet admiration realized years later.

Those Winter Sundays

Sundays too my father got up early
And put his clothes on in the blueback cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?

the sordid other aspect of my job

this is most definitely not converse and pabst at the gowanus. sadly for the people in these pages, sometimes. i think they'd enjoy getting to know us.

of campaign buses, non-alcoholic beer, and the loyal many

Last night, I was reminded why I'm so fascinated and frustrated by
politics, the media, and the way things work in this country today.

I was watching "Journeys with George", and HBO film by Alexandra
Pelosi, daugther of the house minority leader Nancy Pelosi, one-time
NBC news producer, and a woman with a freakish devotion to the color
purple, in all manner of dress, accessories, and nail polish.

[sidebar: she is not alone in this personal habit, however. next to
me lives the woman referred to by fellow neighbors as "the green
lady", who ups the ante by wearing ONLY green. everything. even her
hair.]

colors aside, pelosi is really shrewd and funny, and her strangely
wonderful documentary about the rise of our current monkey president
is well worth a screening. as a member of the press corps assigned to
the bush primary campaign, and his subsequent battle with gore leading
up to the recount, she basically captures life on the trail -- that of
the candidate, and that of those journalists obliged to follow bush
from diner to bowling alley to stump speech.

all in the film are far more candid and unguarded than you'd think
they ever be capable of [bush eating cheese doodles while talking with
his mouth open? yep. joining the press party to have a buckler's beer?
yep], perhaps because no one at the time thought her little project
would turn into much.

watching it, i was reminded of something that's often easy to forget,
that bush is far more clever and charming than most people would like
to believe. these are qualities that are alluring in the people we
often find ourselves attracted to, and it's clear that he exerts a
kind of magnetism on those around him. they're drawn to something,
even if they don't know what it is. clever, of course, is different
than thoughtful or intellectual.

and that said, he's still a fucking idiot. a dangerous, fucking idiot.

there's a scene near the end of the film, and near the end of the
campaign, where pelosi corners one of bush's advisors, who's just
beaming dury a rally of the party faithful. she asks him why he can't
stop smiling, and he replys that bush makes people happy. and he'll
make the whole country happy. and won't it be so nice to see people
smiling. just imagine people walking down the streets of new york.
smiling. happy.

and my mind fast-forwards, post-election, post-recount, post-9/11.
and i think how firmly convinced they all were then, and are now.. and
i think how nothing could be further from the truth. and i just
shudder.

i go away for 2 weeks and this thing gets really easy to update. that's nice.  now if only i had something to say.