Commie Culpepper

A utility worker on the Gowanus Expressway today resembled what the child of Mick Foley and Santa Claus would look like. His Thermos® was slung on with twine over his bright green shoulders. Takin' it easy. (slow ride)

Death in the garden

A far away noise woke me up three days ago. I shrugged it off as being nothing. Later that day, after eating and such, I decided to head into the backyard to tend to some plants.

I know the sounds of the wild are still present in the city, regardless of the chiding uncles I have. "The city's void of anything even remotely wild, other than the crackies that go scurrying when a Crown Vic rolls, blaring horn, flashing lights. Let's film that and put it on Current TV." Little do they know of the islands that backyards serve. Death and productivity are measured by the carcasses and juveniles (molting young birds). However, the territories of predators must be safeguarded. Protect: stalk, disembowel, move on.


The idea of tragedy is foreign to the feral feline.