Water Lilly Alley

Letter To Jesse

Dear Rev Jesse Jackson.

There are some things, not many, that really bite ass with me and you just happen to be one of them. So don’t take this personal, just take it. I mean where in the hell do you get off with saying that Barack Obama is not black enough to head this country? First of all George W, Bush of this posting has not proved to be smart enough to assert the position of president and yet he is. But dumb is dumb and nothing says ignorant more than “one is not being black enough’ or as you so well put it in regards to the six black juveniles’ arrested on attempted-murder charges in Jena, La. that Mr. Obama is “acting like he’s white.”

 

Then you had the gall to say ““Jena is a defining moment, just like Selma was a defining moment,”

 

Now hold on a minute Mr. I marched with Martin Luther King and held him in my arms as he lay dying. (I did my research and YOU were there but you were not the one holding him as he lay dying.) But, let’s not split hairs instead let’s review a simple fact, just one fact, not two, five or seven, just one:

 

Selma vs. Jena.

 

Prior and up to the mid 60’s African-Americans were mistreated, beaten and more than not, lynched just because they were black. That my friend, must I remind you, was a way of life for many black people that stepped up and tried to make something of their lives not to mention the countless others that were just there being.

 

Yes, it was the civil rights movement that changed all that – and that movement was black and white, brown and yellow, red and just about every other shade in between. It wasn’t just a matter of people being black enough. I think you are losing sight of what really was. Does the concept of compassion come into play for you at any place in your brave new world? If so then how in the hell can you come off saying that Senator Obama “is acting white” because he is taking on issues of heath care, the elderly and the war in Iraq instead of a high school skirmish. True, this high school braw have been a little overwhelming for the city counsel but we have a war going on, kids starving, adults starving, we have the homeless, we have people dying from diseases that could be easily taken care of with proper available medication. We have a nation in need of a real leader.

I agree with you that suspension of the white kids from school is not as severe as the black juveniles going to jail, but they did commit a crime of assault which happens to warrant a charge in itself. If anything the whites should have been charged with a hate crime for running up the nooses on the school tree and yet that may still may come about, but that is not the same as Selma in the 60’s.

 

A friend of mine once said as I was pissing in an alley after an Iron Butterfly concert back in ’69: “In my country we have a saying that when you have a bucket of crabs you never have to put a top on the bucket because they will never get out. As one crawls about all the crap and seaweed and shit to get out and as he’s near the rim of the bucket, the other crabs will reach up as they are trying to get out too and they end up pulling the one nearing the top back in.

 

I have no idea what that had to do with me urinating in an alley but it stuck with me.

 

So with that said, I know it’s been tough on you going though life looking like a pit bull on PMS but come on Jesse don’t drag one of our hopefuls down just because he doesn’t run around yelling “Man, dats whack what’dey be doin in Jena. Not only is that reverse racist-speak in its own right but it’s downright poor grammar.

Sincerely Mr. WLA

Photo borrowed from Associated Press.

Doll Edema

Doll Edema (say: dal eh-dee-mah) aka DE is swelling or puffiness of parts of a doll's body. It is caused by low grade plastic that gets trapped in the tissues of the doll’s appendages. Edema usually happens in the feet, ankles and legs. It also can affect the face and hands. Barbies and older Cabbage Patch Kids are usually immune to this disease, but it can happen to just about any doll manufactured after 1936.

Many things can cause doll edema. Sometimes gravity pulls the plastic down into the legs and feet. However, placing a doll body in the rear window of an automobile can bring on DE in just a matter of hours. The rear window of the 1974 American Motors Pacer was notorious for causing DE in over 1 gazillion dolls alone.

The other leading cause of DE is The Little Brother, most younger brothers have been known to use dolls to try and retrieve a Whamo Frisbee from roofs of garages and other urban structures. After two or three attempts to retrieve the Frisbee the doll usually ends up right next to the flying disk on the roof to suffer the wrath of the sun.

As of this report we have no idea whatsoever as to how many dolls have been lost to Rooftop DE. But we think it is more than twenty.

Doll Edema cannot be cured. The only way to treat doll edema is to treat the condition that is causing it. The following are some things you can do to keep the swelling plastic down:

•Put a pillow over the doll’s face and press gently, this works well while watching any Joan Crawford film.

•Wrap the doll’s legs in duct tape, which you can buy at most hardware stores. Duct tape puts pressure on the doll’s legs and keeps plastic from collecting in legs and ankles. Dolls can then be accessorized with G.I. Joe leftovers while your younger brother is recovering from someone placing copious amounts of poison ivy in his sleepover sleeping bag.

•Follow your doctor's orders about limiting how much playtime with Barney and Sponge Bob Square Pants you doll is allowed to have. (The above aforementioned play date partners are seriously not recommended by The Association of Preventative Measures of Doll Edema for any of your dolls that do NOT already suffer from DE.)

Your doctor might want you to take a medicine called a mojito (say: mo-HEE-toe), while your doll is recovering.

You can purchase purple DE wrist bracelets to show your support in finding a cure of this crippling disease buy contacting the person(s) responsible for this Public Service Announcement.

In The Tray's Honor.

These news items never seem to go away. This one I found today, yet it was dated the first of this year. Personally I don’t know how I missed it. I must be getting old. However, just for the sake of humoring me let’s let review, let’s take a closer… look.

Virgin Mary appears on pizza pan
Monday, February 26, 2007

Devout churchgoers have begun worshipping a pizza pan - after claiming the Virgin Mary has appeared amid the melted cheese, tomato and pepperoni.

Now I’m not splitting hairs here but does this line ring a bell? "You shall not make for yourself an idol." Yup, kids, you hit it right on the head - Deuteronomy 5:6-5:21 The Big Ten. Apparently there is a loophole that I have hastly overlooked that allows pizza pans in the mix for idolizing. But let’s move on. 

Dinner ladies at a school in Texas discovered what they took to be Mary's image on the base of a cooking tray.  But after fevered scrubbing failed to shift it, rumor spread of a divine apparition and now pilgrims have been flocking to a makeshift shrine in the tray's honor.

That my friends would be the acid test - scrubbing.  And not just regular scrubbing but a fevered scrubbing with a S.O.S. Tuffy Nylon Scouring Pad - part number (98130CLX) We’re talking a down right knuckle scrapping, sweat producing, lip biting scrub down. And let me tell you, after dating a few dinner ladies in my time I can assure you they are a no nonsense lot.

So you know the V-Mary’s image must be real.

One woman came to the school in Houston seeking healing for her disabled grandson.

Ok, I have the most respect as anyone for the disabled but just how out of action must one be that when a group of cafeteria ladies comes to them with a dirty pizza pan and assures them that healing will commence that the disabled cat perks up and prepares to lace a never before worn pair of Nike’s 

School canteen worker Guadalupe Rodriguez, who first spotted the mark on Ash Wednesday, said: 'On the third rinse I started watching it, trying to discover what it was. 'It showed to me like it is the Virgin Mary.' Pupil Anel Villareal said: 'They said, "The Virgin is in the cafeteria" and I ran over there to see. 'My God, it was the Virgin. I cried when I see her with my own eyes.'

Well, damn that must have been a sight to behold. I mean, having the Virgin Mary in the house and all. I can remember one time at band camp, I was having a cup of coco in the commissary and someone had left a smashed cookie on one of the serving trays and from where I was sitting, I noticed that if I were to scrunch my eyes and sort of tilt my head to left of the cookie it sort of looked like Bob Dylan… No shit.

So what I’m sayin’ here is that we need to keep an open mind.  I know that in the past I have had that not so fresh feeling when it comes to personal faith but it sort of scares me that maybe one day I will be having a dish of clam fettuccini and BAMN, right in the middle of the clam sauce will be an image of Satan himself. That could happen, ya’know. I mean you don’t hear about it a lot but if heaven’s big hitters can show up on a whim and can endure several hours of scrubbing, then what about the dark lords. 

In the past, the Virgin Mary has been said to appear on a toasted cheese sandwich in Florida, a Chicago underpass and a blob of dried chocolate at a Californian factory.

See, that is what I’m talking about…

Truth and Honor

Why do they say that the two respectful top hitters for dying are Truth and Honor? Personally I really don’t think it matters a whole hell of a lot what you die for because in a nutshell you are DEAD. And anything after dying just doesn’t hold a whole lot of water in my book. Well, not for the dead person anyway…

I mean wouldn’t it be a whole lot more beneficial if one were to just get slightly messed up for Truth and Honor instead? Perhaps just a really bad sprained ankle or something. That way at least everyone could stand around the hospital bed and say things like:

-Wow dude that was really close and most honorable.
or
-I sure wish I could be as courageous.
or
-Man you picked up some mean air on that one.
or
-Wow, dude, Truth is rocking on.

But dying for truth and honor… well then all you have afterwards is a funeral and do you really, really in a hundred years think that after the fat lady sings someone is going to say. “At least he died honorably.”

I think not, for to die for Truth and Honor is something they say when someone wants you to fight someone else in the name of something abstract.

Rather silly if you ask me.

I've been stumbling on my feet...

One of coal mining’s earliest systems for warning of the presence
of methane gas, the canary in the coal mine, though low-tech, was
extremely effective and rather easy to read: if the bird died,
miners had to get out of the shaft.

I must say this worked rather well for the miners and yet was somewhat slanted for the canary. Yet, miners knew when to get out. And thanks to countless brave canaries – the ones that died, thousands of miners lived full and fruitful lives.

Now wouldn’t that be wonderful if in relationships we were to have a bright, colorful and perky little creature to let us know when a relationship was about to go tits up. The creature wouldn’t even have to be very high on the food chain. A game hen would do. It’s only real duty in life would be to warn us of pending danger. And in return, we wouldn’t eat them. A damn good partnership mind you.

My point being that most couples don’t have a clue when it comes to love. Well, to be completely honest women have always nudged themselves just a bit further up the evolutionary scale of love only because they talk to one another. Hell, guys, if they do talk, it’s about sports, cars, sex, sports and…. Oh yeah sex. We never really venture very far out into the pool of emotional compatibility lest we make eye contact with one another and really screw things up.

Basically, we don’t have a clue. Hell, unless a woman comes up to me, unbuttons her blouse, and sets the twins free, I would not have the slightest clue that she was interested in me. I’m not kidding. And I’m not alone. Clueless, I tell you. Anyway… it’s amazing that so many couples are together when so many haven’t a inkling as to how do deal when a disaster presents itself time and time again.

And I think it would be safe to say that most guys really don’t put a lot of effort into dropping themselves into a relationship and yet like fruit cocktail in the middle of a bowl of Jell-O, there they are – relationship-ed.

Now here is my dilemma. If a guy doesn’t have the slightest idea as how he got into a long term affiliation with his -*cough-cough* soul mate - then how in the hell is he to know when to get out – if that is a viable option? Of course there will be the dish throwing, the screaming, the door slamming, the broken CDs, his clothes tossed into the dumpster. But what is this telling him? Well from a guy’s perspective let me answer that for you. In a nutshell – he sees it as, she pissed, again.

Now, it’s the ‘again’ that gets me. Some people will spend countless years in a nest of agains.

How many ‘agains’ does it take? 

That is where The Relationship Early Warning Creature would come in handy. Instead of a dog or falcon for a pet, every guy stepping into a relationship would be issued a hedgehog. You see… Hedgehogs are easily distinguished by their spines, which are hollow hairs made stiff with keratin. Their spines are not poisonous or barbed and, unlike the quills of a porcupine, cannot easily be removed from the animal.

And every morning before going to work, a guy could check for loose hedgehog spines, if there are none… things are good. It’s when he begins finding one here, one there, a few in the closet, in the bathroom, the foyer, that he really should be thinking about what has gone afoot in the relationship. With this early warning system in place he would have plenty of time to make things right with his *soul mate* and save the relationship before it goes Krakatoa on him. HE WOULD HAVE A CLUE.

However, if he were to wake and find a bald hedgehog, well, no need to wait to dig clothes out of the dumpster. May as well pack and get out while the getting is good. This would save years of grief and besides… his new roommate Hedgy could teach him thing or two about growing a new spine.

I’m just sayin…

Why I don't Write About My Life.

Ya’know… I hardly write anything about myself or my personal life. Why? Well I’m glad you asked. I think mostly because my real life is so damn boring and when I do have something of interest to say it sort of degenerates into nothingness.

Case in point…

A friend of mine and I were chatting on yahoo yesterday and she had some great news about becoming a grandparent in the next few years. Well, sure that is wonderful news and I’m happy for her. But you couldn’t tell from the following conversation that took place. She really does put up with a lot from our chats.

It went like this…

Paulineee: I can't believe my baby is going to get engaged

Paulineee: I can't believe someone actually wants to take him on

Alvin: perish the thought... maybe he will come to his senses.

Alvin: Fuck, that is scary.

Paulineee: He is high maintenance.

Alvin: He is way too young.

Paulineee: He's 8 years older than you were when you first got married.

Alvin: Well best to get that first divorce under your belt before 30

Alvin: I mean congratulations.

Paulineee: Heh.

Alvin: Hey if they have a kid can you name him Kyle.

Paulineee: From South Park?

Alvin: Yeah.

Paulineee: Sheesh.

Paulineee: Since when do I get to name their kid?

Alvin: Kyle is the smartest of the group.

Paulineee: I thought Stan was smartest.

Paulineee: Kyle is the most Jewish.

Paulineee: I'm not crazy about the name Kyle.

Paulineee: Go name your own grandchildren!

Paulineee: I can name mine perfectly well thank you.

Alvin: I tried.

Paulineee: Heh, yeah I bet!

Paulineee: Yep... well who knows, maybe I'll be a granny

Alvin: Yeah...

Alvin: I can see that.

Alvin: Oh Nana.

Paulineee: Heh.

Paulineee: Hope it's a girl.

Paulineee: I can totally see having a granddaughter.

Alvin: Yeah you're about due for a girl in your family.

Alvin: On my list of things to do before I die is to paint Olivia’s name on a water tower.

Paulineee: Why?

Alvin: It's on my list.

Paulineee: Ok.

Paulineee: Why just hers?

Alvin: Because she is my first granddaughter. 

Alvin: And everyone that comes into that particular town will think they are entering the town of  Olivia. I mean I haven’t done anything else with my life, so why not.

Paulineee: Well what about your grandson? Not enough paint?

Alvin: Well just for her name alone I will need about 4 gallons of red paint and then I have to climb the damn thing.

Alvin: Besides he received bridge spit training when he was four. I did the training. Water towers are reserved for girls

Paulineee: Oh ok.

Paulineee: As long as he has something.

Alvin: Well yeah... men need to know how to spit.

Paulineee: It doesn't come natural?

Alvin: Hell no... there is the distant spit... then there is the slow drip spit for accuracy, mostly from bridges or rooftops. Then there is the ever famous Lugi... that is the most dangerous and the most difficult to learn.

Paulineee: Lugi?

Alvin: Yeah that is where you hack up stuff to go with the spit.

Paulineee: Oh.

Alvin: So that when it sticks to something it really sticks.

Paulineee: Y'okay.

Paulineee: That's enuf info.

Alvin: This works really well for when a kid grows up he can use it in defense of the guy that parked his car too close to the driver’s side door so that he can't get in.

Paulineee: And so the Lugi

Alvin: Well it's a fucking art form. You make it sound disgusting?

Paulineee: I'm sure... especially if you don't happen to smoke or have bronchitis at the time

Alvin: The next time you see a kid spit and then it just sort of runs down his chin... NO spit training.

Paulineee: Well.

Paulineee: if I have grandsons you can come in and teach them

Alvin: cool.

------------------------------------

Permission granted by Pauline to use the above conversation in this post.

Photo taken of unknown subject in Santa Monica September 1st 2007

Rocket Ships

And before you know it                     
rocket ships will give way
to broken hearts.

Flying horses will become
missed appointments

and

Crayolas become the
new dishes that ease
the divorce…

The tooth fairy
puts on a suit and
collects

Taxes.

Death replaces
the ice cream truck.

And yet

You will dream of
rocket ships.

-A. Valles