Blogger sucks less

Weell, so much for our test drive of Greatest Journal. When I read about it, I got the impression it was a serious blogging tool. In reality, it's a cross between a teen "Are You Hot?" and "My So-Called Life." Not that there's anything wrong with that (kiss my fat Irish arse, Jerry). Looks like I will be using Blogger as my primary blog until something better comes along, with Greatest Journal as backup. Blogger is the best looking, followed by Tripod. Greatest Journal, like most open source projects, looks slapped together compared to Blogger. Blogger has more opportunities to monetize this little community of readers (Google AdSense, PayPal). The problem with Blogger that Greatest Journal doesn't have is that it is slow to impossible to load at times. It's hard to tell whether this is a problem with the VCU network, the Internet, or Blogger. With Greatest Journal, it's relatively easy to get photos added to posts whereas Blogger involves intermediate programs which don't always work.

You're My Better Half - Keith Urban

Car door slams, it's been a long day at work
I'm out on the freeway and I'm wondering if it's all worth
The price that I pay, sometimes it doesn't seem fair
I pull into the drive and you're standing there
And you look at me
And give me that come-here-baby smile
It's all gonna be alright
You take my hand
You pull me close and you hold me tight

[Chorus:]
It's the sweet love that you give to me
That makes me believe we can make it through anything
'Cause when it all comes down
And I'm feeling like I'll never last
I just lean on you 'cause baby
You're my better half

They say behind every man is a good woman
But I think that's a lie
'Cause when it comes to you I'd rather have you by my side
You don't know how much I count you to help me
When I've given everything I got and I just feel like giving in
And you look at me
And give me that come-here-baby smile
It's all gonna be alright
You take my hand
Yeah you pull me close and you me tight

[REPEAT CHORUS]

Well, you take my hand
Yeah you pull me close and I understand

It's the sweet love that you give to me
That makes me believe that we can make it through anything

Oh baby, it's the sweet love that you give to me
That makes me believe we can make it through anything
'Cause when it all comes down
And I'm feeling like I'll never last
I just lean on you 'cause baby
You're my better half

Oh, oh baby you're my better half
Ooh, hey baby you're my better half

That girl - Stevie Wonder

PICT0525
Originally uploaded by Stunted Growth.
That girl thinks that she’s so fine
That soon she’ll have my mind
That girl thinks that she’s so smart
That soon she’ll have my heart
She thinks in no time flat
That she’ll be free and clear to start
With her emotional rescue of love that you’ll leave torn apart

That girl thinks that she’s so bad
She’ll change my tears from joy to sad
She says she keeps the upper hand
’cause she can please her man
She doesn’t use her love to make him weak
She uses love to keep him strong
And inside me there’s no room for doubt
That it won’t be too long

Before I tell her that I love her
That I want her
That my mind, soul and body needs her
Tell her that I’d love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love

I’ve been hurting for a long time
And you’ve been playing for a long time
You know it’s true
I’ve been holding for a long time
And you’ve been running for a long time
It’s time to do what we have to do
That girl, that girl

That girl knows every single man
Would ask her for her hand
But she says her love is much too deep
For them to understand
She says her love has been crying out
But her lover hasn’t heard
But what she doesn’t realize is that I’ve listened to every word

That’s why I know I’ll tell that I love her
That I want her
That my mind, soul and body needs her
Tell her that I’d love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love

Tell her I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that I’d love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her love

That I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that I’d love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to...

Tell her that I love her
That I want her
That my mind and soul and body needs her
Tell her that I’d love to, that I want to
That I need to do all that I have to
To be in her...

That girl, that girl, that girl,
Oh, that girl, that girl, that girl, that girl...

My imaginary financee, Janeane Garofalo

Sunday's are usually slow, so it seems like a good time to introduce a web site about my imaginary friend, Harvey, er, imaginary fiancee, Janeane Garofalo at http://mediastupor.squarespace.com. Janeane is one dumb bitch who can't make up her mind whether she wants to commit political suicide (by making dumb-ass comments) or actual suicide (by smoking). Do both, my dear - it will be more fun for all of us. Meanwhile, I plan to buy and have a brick inscribed with your name along a pathway linking the entire Virginia Commonwealth University campus. Of course, according to the US Army Community Service, "Never... expose the sole of one's shoes or bottoms of feet to an Arab. It is regarded as an insult."

PICT0570
Originally uploaded by Stunted Growth.

Did you know...

Mood: sad
The average server in Richmond makes $2.13 an hour? Think that'll put food on HER table? Support you local waitstaff - tip always.

PICT0556
Originally uploaded by Stunted Growth.

Trey Anastasio at the Landmark Tuesday, March 2

PICT0581
Originally uploaded by Stunted Growth.

Trey Anastasio phishing alone at the Landmark

Sticker in downtown Richmond, VA

Cabell Library goes 24/5 on trial basis

PICT0597
Originally uploaded by Stunted Growth.

In response to student requests, the James Branch Cabell Library on the Monroe Park Campus will be open 24 hours a day, 5 days a week for the last three weeks of the semester.

"From April 24 through May 13, we will open our doors at 11:00 a.m. each Sunday and remain open until our regular Friday evening closing time. Saturday hours during Library Lite All Nite will remain unchanged," according to the news release.

"We are offering these overnight hours on a trial basis only. Most of our library and building services will follow their normal operating schedules during these 3 weeks, but the Cabell Library's circulation staff and VCU Police security staff will be on hand all night to ensure a safe study environment for library users with valid VCU identification.

"Library computers, including access to the VCU Libraries catalog and databases, the Internet, and Open Office productivity applications, will be available throughout the night with brief interruptions to accommodate routine backup and update procedures."

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Here comes the bride

June is just around the corner.

Jewelry

Premarital counseling

Wedding planning, reception, and service

Bridal apparel

Flowers

Gifts and stationery

Shoe display in Carytown
Originally uploaded by Stunted Growth.

Deja vu all over again

I hate remakes.

Jon Astley - Jane's Getting Serious (written by Jon Astley) from the album "Everyone Loves The Pilot (Except The Crew)"

I like get up
With my partner in crime
We love to dress up
And have ourselves a good time
We have an understanding
She can never be mine

We get on so well
There's no pressure on us
It's a relationship
Based entirely on trust
No complications
You will never see me focus

Come around eleven
And it's time to go home
I'm going her way
But I can't leave her alone
But she's looking at me
As If I'm something she owns
Oh

CHORUS
Jane's getting serious (Jane)
Jane's getting serious
Jane's getting serious (Jane)
And I could get serious too

She introduces me
To all her friends around town
She gets approval
I say I can't stick around
The writing's on the wall

So come around eleven
And we're on our way home
I can't leave her here
But I should leave well alone
Cause she is looking at me
Like I am something she owns
Oh

CHORUS

So I'm pretending I'm not
Caught in between
The devil and the deep blue sea
And I cannot believe
That I would ever admit
That I could take Jane seriously

Come around eleven
We're still on our way home
All dressed up
And nowhere to go
But all along
I should have really known
That

CHORUS X 2

Jane's getting serious...
(Fade)

The decisive moment vs. Richmond's legal system

Mood: blue
Henri Cartier-Bresson may have been the master of the decisive moment on the streets of Paris, but he might have been flummoxed on the streets of Richmond. The problem with photographing people in public here is that so many of them are entangled in the legal system and they don't want their picture taken. Many have outstanding warrants:
[Main Entry: ca·pi·as ad re·spon·den·dum
Pronunciation: 'kA-pE-&s-ad-"rE-spän-'den-d&m, 'kä-pE-"äs-äd-"rA-spon-'den-dum
Variant: or capias
Function: noun
Etymology: Medieval Latin, you may seize (the person) to (make him/her) answer the charge
: a writ or process commanding an officer to place a person under civil arrest in order to answer a charge]
because they were too stupid or lazy to appear in court on the original charge (which also more than likely involved acts of stupidity or laziness such trespassing, domestic violence, or public drunkeness.) The result is a clogged-up, scerlotic court system, which demands reform, if only so photographers can take candid photos once again.

Al Franken can kiss my ass

Mood: cheeky
My Hebrew National All Beef with Al Franken of Minnesota and Air America Radio: he's always carrying on about Paul Wellstone of Minnesota as one of his heroes. And he's always talking about Wellstone's funeral, blah, blah, blah. Well, get over it, the man's dead. I'm not going to disparage Wellstone, but obviously he could have done a better job of picking his charter flights.

What really cheeses me off is that he never mentions Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota, the only Democrat who had the guts to stand up to Lyndon Johnson's escalation of the Vietnam War, and stop LBJ cold in his tracks. "Clean for Gene": Eugene McCarthy and the Presidential Election of 1968 Nobody else was willing to do this, not Bobby Kennedy, not Hubert Humphrey, not any other of those liberal icons of the time.

You would think Franken would feel some sort of gratitude towards McCarthy, since Franken avoided the war, although now Al's on some sort of weirdo guilt trip because he did. Apparently not. McCarthy is my hero because he stood up to the system and lived to tell about it. The streets were on fire in a real death waltz, and this poet made an honest stand, even though he wound up wounded and not even dead, down in "Jungleland" I'll take a live hero from Minnesota over a dead one, any day.

OJ forensic consultant to speak at VCU

Mood: accident prone
Now Playing: "I shot the sheriff" by Bob Marley
Noted forensic scientist Henry C. Lee, who consulted on the O.J. Simpson, Jon Benet Ramsey and Laci Peterson homicide cases, will speak Monday, April 25, at a Virginia Commonwealth University lecture.

Lee, who in the past 40 years has helped solve more than 6,000 cases, will speak on "High-Profile Cases Revisited" at 7:30 p.m. at the Stuart C. Siegel Center. In addition, he will be available to meet with the media following a student lecture from 10:30 a.m. to 12 p.m. in the Commonwealth Ballroom of the VCU Student Commons, 907 Floyd Ave.

Lee has worked with law enforcement agencies throughout the United States and other countries, including England, Colombia, Bosnia, China and Brunei. He currently serves as chief emeritus of the Connecticut Division of Scientific Services and as a professor of forensic science at the University of New Haven.

Lee's lecture, which is free and open to the public, is sponsored by VCU's College of Humanities and Sciences, the L. Douglas Wilder School of Government and Public Affairs and the Forensic Science Program.

The Pope is a dope...

Mood: cheeky
Now Playing: "Church of the Poisoned Mind" by Culture Club
...and that's all I have to say on the subject.

Get ripped at a Richmond gym instead of a Richmond bar for a change

Now Playing: "The Weight" by The Band
Yahoo CitySearch Guide to health clubs and gymns

Surfing for seafood in Richmond

Now Playing: "Rock Lobster" by the B-52s
Yahoo CitySearch Guide to seafood restaurants

Flickr'ing images of Richmond

More of Stunted Growth's photos...

www.flickr.com

Love cats

Mood: amorous

Yank me, crank me. -Ted Nugent

My thoughts drift back to erect nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming F--k Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of sh-t... yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.
- Full Metal Jacket

Hey, I saw Ms. Giraffe's crotch for the first time. I feel like Moses looking into the Promised Land.

This one's for you, Ms. Giraffe

Mood: amorous
Now Playing: "Jane says" by Jane's Addiction
Yahoo CitySearch Guide to hip thrift shop threads

Pass that bottle to me

Mood: celebratory
Down in New Orleans where everything's fine all them cats is drinkin' that wine
Drinkin' that mess is their delight when they get drunk start singin' all night
Drinkin' wine spo-dee-o-dee drinkin' wine wine spo-dee-o-dee drinkin' wine
Wine spo-dee-o-dee drinkin' wine pass that bottle to me
"Drinkin' wine spo-dee-o-dee"

Taking a break from blogging, getting buzzed drinking 32-ounce cups of ice (50 cents from the Evergreen Chinese restaurant in the 600 block of West Grace - coincidentally where Today's Bus leaves for NYC) and Australian Chardonnay dumpster-dived by Harry in the shadow of the Prestwould, Richmond's most prestigious condominium address. Harry is a paranoid-schizophrenic on the run from Florida to avoid taking his medication. He doesn't like the side effects. He is currently engaged in what the medical profession dryly calls self-medicating. He's a former carnie games worker who says you have better odds of winning at a carnival than you do in Vegas. The prizes are crap, though. He's seen people spend $800 to win a prize that cost $8 wholesale, which is one reason he quit. As we drink, Harry calls out from the shadows, "Hello, lay-dees," to the coeds walking by. I ask him if that ever works. He says, "Once in a blue moon."


Harry once claimed to have the night sleeping in the garage at the Richmond Police Department HQ. The cookies he gave me helped sustain me when I ran out of money in NYC. If it weren't bad enough that he's a paranoid-schizophrenic missing his front teeth, Harry doesn't know what he wants: whether to stay in Richmond or go back to Florida. One side effect of not taking his medication is that the voices in his head have returned, the most prominent and evil being Mr. Williams. Harry says he ran over and killed Mr. Williams with a car, but Mr. Williams is coming back to kill him May 9. I guess a friend (or enemy) of the devil is a friend (or enemy) of mine.

Here I am, on the road again

Mood: a-ok
Here I am, on the road again - Bob Seger
I originally thought I would continue working on Stunted Growth, which was about politics and pop culture, after I started this blog. But there are only so many ways I can say Bush is a dope. If you agree, you're not going to change your mind at this point. Ditto if you disagree.

This blog is different in that it's about experiencing two cities - a tale of two cities - places to go, people to see, experiences to enjoy (or not), lessons to learn, and possessions to enjoy (or not). I'm going to write more about New York City in the future, 1) because to compare and contrast Richmond and NYC is instructive, and 2) Both metropolises can learn from each other. New York has a superiority complex; Richmond has an inferiority complex. Neither is justified.

Fight the power

Mood: loud
The Momentum Project is organizing to fight a double standard in Monroe Park, where the homeless are harassed and students frolic with bongs, er, water pipes the size of the Stanley Cup. The meeting will be held 9:00 a.m. Saturday, April 23 at the Legal Aid building, 101 West Broad Street, Richmond, VA.
Map

Show me the money

Mood: vegas lucky
I've always been fairly lackadaisical about trying to convert efforts like this into cash because I've had other sources of income. Fred Argoff, a NYC subway conductor who probably knows as much about Brooklyn and the subways as anyone, once told me that was the fastest way to turn something he enjoyed into work. I see his point, but I also thought it had something to do with Fred's own safety zone, from which he didn't feel comfortable venturing. However, my life circumstances have changed. For example, I'm looking to raise between $5,000-$1,000 for an engagement ring, and this seems as good a place as any to start.

I'm going to start asking people who read and enjoy this blog to think about throwing something into the pot. Other blogs do this so it's not like I'm the greedy one. I've set up a PayPal account so people can donate. This means I will be running the occasional commercial for contributions. You're certainly welcome to ignore such pleas, but to do so when you continue to read this means you sacrifice the right to be indignant when someone else, for example, me, freeloads or games the system.

I'd like to believe the information offered here is fairly unique, insightful, useful, or entertaining, and what that's worth I'll leave up to you.

Think of this blog as a mash-up between "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous," "Down and Out in London and Paris," "Truth or Dare," and "Jackass." While I rarely engage in physically dangerous stunts, I do things most people would at least think twice about, like show a couple of NYPD officers at the checkpoint to the entrance to NYPD HQ my "New York F--kin City" t-shirt and tell them that's what I think of their toddlin' town. Hey, they were a lot mellower about it than Federal Reserve Bank security. As the slogan says on NYC police cars, "Courtesy, professionalism, respect." Well, two out of three ain't bad...

Your contribution allows you to come along for the ride without the possible side effects and wear and tear on your nervous system of being there in person. For example, vicariously get involved with one of Hollywood's foremost drama queens (and that's just in her personal life) without acquiring scorch marks.

It would be nice if I could write these posts out of my you-know-what, but they all require a certain amount of preparation, research, and planning, not to mention interesting life experiences, and as the cliche goes, time is money.

As I always say, you can pay from the top or you can pay from the bottom. You can pay off the front end or you can pay off the back end. Your choice. But you always gotta pay the piper.

Bombs away

Now Playing: "Holiday" by Green Day
"The representative from California has the floor"
Zieg Heil to the president Gasman
Bombs away is your punishment
Pulverize the Eiffel towers
Who criticize your government
- Green Day, "Holiday"

Hey, Food Not Bombs girl, aren't you being a tad obvious sitting next to me in Cabell library? Don't drool on my leg and call it disinterest. Lose the feminism, the idealism, the belly roll, the glasses, and take a bath, and I'll give you your fair share of abuse.

Fock off

Mood: cheeky
Here's my take on the success of "Meet the Fockers." I have no doubt that I could find someone who would pay me a bunch of money to take a dump in front of City Hall on Broad Street at high noon. But I would hope I would have the good sense and taste not to do so. Hey, if you're reading this, Ms. Giraffe, I want to fock you.

Al Franken, under assistant west coast self-promo man

Mood: bright
Well I'm waiting at the bus stop in downtown L.A.
Well I'm waiting at the bus stop in downtown L.A.
But I'd much rather be on a boardwalk on Broadway

Well I'm sitting here thinkin' just how sharp I am
Well I'm sitting here thinkin' just how sharp I am
I'm an under assistant west coast promo man

Well I promo groups when they come into town
Well I promo groups when they come into town
Well they laugh at my toupee, they're sure to put me down

Well I'm sitting here thinking just how sharp I am
Yeah I'm sitting here thinking just how sharp I am
I'm a necessary talent behind every rock and roll band

Yeah, I'm sharp
I'm really, really sharp
I sure do earn my pay
Sitting on the beach every day, yeah
I'm real real sharp, yes I am
I got a Corvette and a seersucker suit
Yes I have

Here comes the bus, uh oh
I thought I had a dime
Where's my dime
I know I have a dime somewhere
I'm pretty sure........

[Extra lyrics which were removed]

....I have two clerks
I break my ass every day
Here comes the bus
I know I have a dime somewhere
I'm so sharp
You won't believe how sharp I am
Don't laugh at me
- The Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man

When you can be both the Amos and Andy of American Jewish comedy, that's talent. I don't see how Katherine Lanpher puts up with his passive-aggressive s--t. Any normal human being would have beat him to a pulp by now. She either must have the patience of a freaking saint or a drawer full of Xanax.

Baby you can drive my bus

Mood: energetic
The beautiful Chinese-American woman behind the counter at the Hip Cup Cafe in New York City's Chinatown got testy when told her I wanted to visit a restaurant where the Triads hung out as in "Year of the Dragon". The Triads were wiped out years ago, she said. "John Lone is an actor." D'oh. This suggests Chinese-Americans like Italian-Americans still need to develop a thicker skin when it comes to the Soprano-like activities in their communities. ("When the film came out, it was protested against by the Chinese American community for presenting an inaccurate and stereotyped image of Chinatown." - IMDB Trivia) Then again, as Private Joker would say, I think she was f--king with me. In any case, she softened and suggested I visit Canal Street if I was looking for a contemporary version of the same atmosphere featured in the movie.

More than a decade ago, the owner of the Kokopelli Cafe on Broad Street near VCU suggested out of the blue that if I was ever in NYC, I should visit a certain restaurant in Chinatown the Triads frequented. One of those "huh?" moments - I didn't have a clue then as to why the Triads and I would want to get together. I do now, but as my mother used to tell me, I don't want to leave my fight in the gym. Probably for the same reason Ms. Giraffe wanted me to see "The Transporter".

Without getting too Jungian, there are lessons to be learned, themes that run through our lives like deep water currents, and if we ignore them out of convention, conformity, moralism, or idealism, they continue to return again and again. [Reading this paragraph over again, this sounds like so much cosmic slop, but I'm leaving it for educational reasons.]

The Kokopeli Cafe was a cool place but it was the victim along with several other businesses of a mysterious fire in the same building. The owner, who was also a real estate developer, was prescient man. He foresaw the gentification and development of the area surrounding VCU coming long before it happened.

The Hip Cup Cafe at 225 Park Row was the place to get breakfast after a long night's bus journey into day from Richmond that ended under the Manhattan Bridge. The cafe is just above NYPD headquarters and a short walk to Fulton Fish Market and South Street Seaport Museum.

I found it overgrown, supersized (in the MacDonald's bad way), if not metastasized. It looks simply too big to live in, let alone manage. I stayed in Boston for a couple of months while I was in the Shenandoah Valley and found it a city that still had a human scale and was livable, albeit some of the people had that NY drop-dead attitude.

My own theory about "Seinfeld" is that the reason the characters are so neurotic is that they are stressed out by the overcrowding and the sheer effort it takes to make it there. A couple of days of breathing the bad air was enough to develop what I call my pre-asthmatic cough.

While I was there, one of NYC's pre-eminent boho newspapers ran an article about the cheapest place in the city to get shots and beer, all the better to get shit-faced and fall in bed with whomever is around when the tipping point is reached. So much for NYC's life of the mind. I went to the South Street Seaport Museum and found it a tourist trap. There were high school bands from all over the country playing there. In other words, you can travel all the way to NYC and see the same thing you can see in any small town football stadium on Friday night. They had a jazz saxaphone player outside the building. At least he wasn't animatronic. So much for culture. There was a mall inside the building, but frankly, once you've seen a Gap, you've pretty much seen every Gap. I suppose if you're into buying Yankee or Met gear, that's cool, but otherwise, ho-hum.

I always wondered why people commented about how clean Richmond is until I got to NYC. The streets are filled with garbage and the whole place pretty filthy. There's a lot of run-down, excuse me, historic buildings in the city. I used to think that Richmond had a lot of cops, but NYC is crawling with them. I don't want to think about what kind of crime rate it takes to sustain that number of uniforms. As S.J. Perelman observed, "Thinking about New York City brings a lump to the throat, which upon further examination turns out to be a .38 caliber bullet."

Don't get me wrong. I did find a lot of friendly, helpful people and it was cool to lie on the deck chairs on the decks outside the South Street Mall and watch the ships go by. But overall, I think that Richmond has an inferiority complex which is undeserved - at least compared to NYC - and NYC has a superiority complex which is also undeserved, at least compared to Richmond.

Men seldom makes passes at women who wear glasses

Mood: party time!
If his fiancee continues to insist on uglifying herself, Mr. Outside may encourage her to keep smoking and take up drinking again. If you're going to be an aesthetic nightmare, why be half-assed about it? See "Barfly" To know her is to loathe her. Focusing on her inner beauty rather than externals would make sense if there were any inner beauty to focus on. Instead, there's a thin veneer of pseudo-Rilkean Snow Patrol lyrics covering a seething and inchoate mass of malice, jealousy, greediness, neediness, insecurity, insensitivity, and self-absorption AND self-loathing. What passes for empathy is really a desire to manipulate people and make them scurry about doing her bidding like an eight-year-old with a stick and anthill. I almost feel sorry for the woman because she doesn't know how to love anyone, even herself.

Having sat with people who died of lung cancer and liver cirrhosis, I'm already looking forward to witnessing her slow and painful death from either (or both, please God please), not mention inheriting her estate and using the proceeds to buy a meatpacking plant that exploits animals and immigrants, and burying her in a J. Crew outfit with George Bush buttons (Jr. and Sr.) pinned to it.

Snow Patrol, "Run":
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

If I can't hear your voice, it's all rather pointless, ennit? Yes, you'll be right beside me, dear, along with Harvey the rabbit, and making snide and hateful comments, no doubt. In any case, she's never there.

Again, "Snow Patrol":
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads.

There is an easier way, my dear, a time-tested way, and the sooner you return to it, the better: "The Bottle".

Sometimes I get the weird feeling that on some level Ms. Giraffe is convinced that we are already
married so what I see as invasions of privacy are to her merely the normal perks, privileges, and rights associated with marital intimacy.

Bussed a move

Mood: accident prone
Now Playing: "Magic Bus" by the Who
Latest changes in the First National Bank of the Street product line-up: we no longer carry GRTC tickets. We'll loan you $1 and then you're on you own. In fact, FNBS is conducting a boycott of the GRTC until 1) its bus drivers stop for white people and 2) they refrain from trying to kill same. From now on, FNBS will be powered by foot or taxi. And since the CEO is a cheap bastard and can still pinch an inch, that means 90 percent of the time by foot.

I hope you learned a valuable lesson or lessons

Mood: sad
The lessons being 1) Don't steal from me or hang around people who do, or imply that you have through circumstances. That one person's innocent jape is another person's pain in the ass, that in the cold light of the next day could be interpreted as piling on, that thieving doesn't necessarily get people to come back, but to simply stay away, that I have reset my tolerance for thieving to the same level as major retails outlets, i.e. zero. That stealing from me could be your least-favorite mistake of a lifetime.

2) Don't expect me to stay in a venue that plays music at levels that damage human hearing. 3) That there's a fine line between self-decoration and self-mutilation, and unfortunately, I'm the one who decides. My preferences are simply preferences, but they exist, and that's a fact, Jack. 4) I don't like sports. Read the fine print. It's not in the fine print, but it will be soon. Along other such SF literary luminaries such as Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury, I no longer fly in airplanes. What do we know that you don't?

Excuse me while I kiss the plastic

Mood: irritated
Today has been a perfect sh-tstorm of aggro, and I am in a foul mood. I only got about three hours sleep, the rest of the night spent wandering the streets of Bakersfield, er, Richmond. It's raining. It's cold. My head is is a miniature version of the heat death of universe because I shaved it. Memo to self: what a dumb, dumb idea. I'm not shaving anything for another 3.5-four years.

Memo to another: if you like bald British bad actors, why don't you get your balls out of your purse, pick up the telephone, and ask Ben Kingsley, Jason Statham, or Jean-Luc Picard out instead of trying to gin-up an ersatz version through hinting? When you make every effort in the world to make yourself look hideously ugly, why should I accomodate your esthetic preferences? What happened to that total package BS you were pushing? Does that only work one way - your way? There are rocks that have a better sense of fashion than you.

No one can look that bad by accident. You must spend 45 minutes a day to get that bottom-of-the-laundry hamper, thrift-store look the way some women spend 45 minutes a day trying to look good. What is that on your head in that photo of you with Molly Malloy? An alien parasite or a hat knitted out of worn-out welcome mats?

Your glasses make you look like a Tennessee preacher's wife who wanted Scopes burned at the stake or Lily Tomlin's Ernestine on a bad hair day.

Better yet, why don't you shave your head and stroll the streets of Richmond in the cold and rain and see how you like it? Or even better, move to London permanently where you can buy your precious Guardian on every street corner. You'll fit right in because they also love animals more than people.

Also, my Kangol got lost or stolen and the duckbill cap just isn't doing the job of keeping my head warm. The cherry on top of the sundae is that my sinuses has gone crazy due to air pollution, spring pollen, and the cloud of cigarette smoke that hovers over this town. I am dripping like a sink in an SRO hotel. Everyone in this freaking city must have a death wish. Is there anybody here who doesn't smoke? I'm beginning to believe there's an argument to be made for assisted suicide.

Green Grass and High Tides

Now if I let you see this place
Where stories all ring true
Will you let me past your face
To see what's really you?
- The Outlaws

Donna: So, er, thanks for dinner. It was great.
George: Yeah. We should do this again.
Donna: Would you like to come upstairs for some coffee?
George: Oh, no, thanks. I can't drink coffee late at night, it keeps me up.
Donna: (Looks disappointed) So, um, OK.
George: OK.
Donna: Goodnight.
George: Yeah, take it easy.
(Donna leaves car. George realizes what he has done and bashes his forehead in disgust)
- Seinfeld

Oops, I just realized I may have met my second wife last night. I didn't even realize it, and it wasn't at the Fourth Street Cafe. In playing back the conversation in my head later, I had one of those Costanza plain-as-the-nose-on-your-face moments. As Robert Palmer sang:

Let us put man and woman together
And see which one is smarter
Some say men but I say no
The women got the men like a puppet show

Ain’t me, it’s the people they say
The men are leading the women astray
But I say, it’s the women today
Are smarter than the men in every way
- Man Smart/Woman Smarter

As they say, life is what happens while you're making other plans. Go figure, and what a figger. I never would have expected to meet her where I did, nor would I have ever considered that I might hook up with a future jet pilot, particularly since I'm not a big fan of flying. Fortunately, she has other talents and interests. I guess you could call her a renaissance woman, which is not surprising since you need renaissance women to have a renaissance. Fortunately, she has other talents and interests which are more appealing than flying a jet. And she would look good in a uniform.

Space is the place

Mood: spacey
Now Playing: "Telstar" by the Ventures
I had a request for blanket today. Well, the usual blanket won't fit in a bookbag but a space blanket would, not to mention weighing only two ounces. We've been having below average temperatures lately, so a request for a blanket makes sense. Space blankets seem to have fallen out of vogue, but are still a compact solution to staying warm.

Faster, pussycats and dogs

Mood: lyrical
Now Playing: "Love Rescue" by Replicant
Pick up the pace, people. A message for the people of Richmond and Virginia, brought you by the future Mr. and Ms. Transporter

It's a jungle out there

Mood: caffeinated
Mr. Outside is trying to be Mr. Brightside, but there's no hiding the fact that the First National Bank of the Street is on the ropes. It's day two and the natives are getting restless: nobody's gotten rich yet. Mr. Brightside tries to put on a happy face by listening to "Song Two" by Blur with its perky line, "It's not my problem" while high on a large coffee from Marie's.

Nevertheless, Mr. Brightside decides to jumpstart business by offering a free lighter or a backpack lock to the first two customers. You need a backpack lock, as Mr. Outside discovered when his cellphone was stolen on his first day on the street. No honor among thieves, and the downtrodden too. Additional mods: condoms in fun flavors and colors are now free because a rising tide of STDs sinks all little men in boats, or something like that. First National hasn't opened its own clinic yet but is now offering aspirin to those who are not only downtrodden but hungover.

Torn from the Tres Heures dictionary

Mood: don't ask
Now Playing: "Holiday" by Green Day
Camp'ing: derisive term for bougies roughing it outdoors, cops shirking work, churches moving to the suburbs, and computer gamers hoping to win by avoiding losing.

Victorian Kwoloon's Secret

Mood: amorous
Now Playing: "Brick House" by the Commodores
As for the evening waitress at the Fourth Street Diner er Cafe, forget brick - more like titani-yum. Losing sleep - exciting night life of China.

Monroe Park sounds like sixties Monrovia

Mood: energetic
Now Playing: "Back in the high life again" by Steve Winwood
A shout-out to the Little Drummer Boyz below Monroe Park for their excellent peformance yesterday evening. Mr. Outside gave $2 in line with his role as a patron of the arts.

Screaming Baby Express goes public

Mood: don't ask
Now Playing: "Baby, let's play house" by Elvis
It used to be that the paranoid-schizos terrorized other patrons using the computer labs at the Richmond Public Library. As the Beatles sang, it's getting better all the time because now colicky babies rule. David Letterman used to refer to the red-eye to California ss the "screaming baby express." He's stopped doing that, perhaps because he now has his own screaming baby or because the express has moved to the lab at the main library.

In the pipe, five by five

Now Playing: "Down to the waterline" by Dire Straits
It occurs to me that almost everything in life can be reduced to flow control.

Where to satisfy a sushi craving

Now Playing: "Turning Japanese"
Yahoo CitySearch

Top notch Mexican spots

Mood: energetic
Now Playing: Anything by Los Lonely Boys
Yahoo CitySearch

The monster mash-up

Mood: cheeky
Now Playing: "The Monster Mash" by Bobby "Boris" Pickett
If you're tired of my use of the word "mash-up," please let me know.

You can bank on it

Mood: mischievious
Now Playing: "Money" by Pink Floyd
Opening tomorrow is the First National Bank of the Street, specializing in micro-loans - all the essentials of life - cigarettes, bus tickets, quarters, $1 bills, condoms (the life you save may be your own), scratchers, $1 prepaid phone cards (call anywhere until midnight EST), and Mott's 100% apple juide boxes. Limit one per customer of everything, and that means you. No wheedling - I've heard them all.

To get around onerous State Corporation Commission and IRS regulations, the bank will "give" these items away - wink, wink. As a public service, also dispensing free info for the homeless, REACH Homeward cards and Brush-Ups. This bank will be virtual, with the location and opening times fluctuating from day-to-day. We pass the savings on to you. How low can we go? Lower than Janeane Garofalo, and that's pretty damn low. First National Bank of the Street will go beyond A.P. Giannini's vision of lending to the "little fellows" and will lend to Ralph Ellison's "Invisible Man." The goal is to surpass Giannini's impact on the American economy.

No credit checks required - just your street cred. Repay me when ya see me. Interest: pretend that you have an interesting life, or however much you want.

The Ghost in the Machine

Mood: on fire
The evangelist from the Richmond Outreach Center in Monroe Park today was "on fire for Jesus." But to me, he looked like a ghost from the sixties. With his black leather jacket, white t-shirt, and pomp, he reminded me of Nick, the only other member of Students for a Democratic Society at my college. Nick was on fire to save America from a Moloch that was devouring its children and the children of other countries. He was a recognizable archetype in SDS, a working class hero from a working class neighborhood in Chicago - "don't mourn, organize."

When I say the only other member, you have to know that 1) it was a small school, and 2) to be a member of SDS by 1968 was to have a target painted on your back. Even worse, we discovered that the SDS we thought we had joined no longer existed. Nevertheless, we hung on for two more years until the organization reached late-stage dementia and disintegrated. Like the ROC, the SDS of the early sixties and even into the middle was a non-denominational group: anarchists, libertarians, progressives, Maoists, Communists, Trotskyites, Democrats, democrats, liberals, pacifists, and labor, peace, anti-war, anti-draft, and civil rights organizers, etc., all united under the vision of a more humane and just country.

Under external and internal pressures, it became a Marxist chowderhead marching and debating society. Words can't express the rage and disdain I feel for the leadership, Bernadine Dohrn, Jeff Jones, et al, for inflicting their hydrophobia on the rest of us. These dung-flinging primates deserve a circle of Hell all their own where they will be suspended up to their necks in their own ordure for a thousand years. In the end, although they were men and women without a country, they were more American than they ever realized. They managed to take something good and turn it into crap.

Fountain of Youth: the power of three

Mood: cool
Power trio Fountain of Youth had its audience moving and grooving at the MinuteMaid Race Festival in Monroe Park today with a combination of original music and rock and roll standards. Imagine a mash-up of Cream and ZZ Top and a lead singer laidback like Jimmy Buffett and suave like Robert Palmer. These people are generous: they were selling CDs for $3 and even took the time during the break to teach some young dogs some old tricks, er, riffs. They have an original and inventive web site. Almost everything is interactive. It would be nice if you clicked on the individual musician and that called up their names and bios.

How to become a star in Richmond - not

Mood: chatty
Occasionally this Tres Riches guy runs into someone who wants TRG to get them into show biz. This is because they suspect that TRG knows someone in show biz, and they believe that who you know will get you into show biz. First of all, the only reality-based connection to show biz that Mr. TRG has is this: a hairstylist in the building I used to live in claimed he was a friend of Clint Eastwood.

Everything else is rhetorical arm candy, speculation, and hearsay, followed by a truckload of plausible deniability that would keep the CIA supplied into the next century. Hugh Thomas in "The Spanish Civil War" discovered that much of what George Orwell wrote in "Homage to Catalonia" while figuratively true, wasn't literally true - it was compressed or confabulation. There are people who believe every word Hunter Thompson or Carlos Castenada put down on paper was transcribed directly from reality. They probably also believe that Paul Bunyan had a blue ox and that Daniel Boone wrestled a bear.

Even so, let's suppose I did know somebody in show bidness. Suppose I even knew someone who knows Mr. Show. It is also entirely possible this person is attracted to me precisely because I have nothing to do with show biz. And the minute that I start shopping actors, scripts, and projects to them that other people ask me to, I become less attractive. At this point the feral part of my brain kicks in and snarls, "Smeagol don't want to lose his precious. Smeagol says screw other people."

So like George Bush in Iraq, let's move on to plan B. If you want to become an big-time actor, comedian, musician, writer, artist, or model, do what so many other people have done, from Marlon Brando to Dustin Hoffman, from William Styron to Tom Wolfe: move to New York City. Conveniently enough, there is a bus that leaves from 106 West Broad Street for NYC every day of the week at 1 a.m. If you're the bridge-burning risk-taker I suspect you are, a one-way ticket is only $40. Good luck.

Whenever I hear the word culture, I pull out my Cristall

Mood: celebratory
Be sure and check out the screen prints of Carlie Collier in the second floor lobby of the Richmond Public Library. She has a BFA and an MFA from VCU. She is a professional artist, photographer, and educator, and exhibits, teaches, and lectures throughout the nation. Only $450 per print and cheap at the price. Buy now while they're still that way. Your time is now. Her time is coming.

Bling-bling that sings

Mood: amorous
"Talk to me, Harry Winston, tell me all about it!" Or if you're in Richmond, Donald Dransfield, conveniently located a gemstone's throw from the Berkeley Hotel, will tell you all about it. Years ago, Don fixed a watch for me for free - to tell the truth, it was a trade - which only goes to show he's a gentleman as well as a craftsman. Not to mention an artist, and his chosen medium is jewelry. Hey, Ms. Movie Star, Don's good looking enough to be a movie star, along the lines of Peter Coyote. He longer fixes watches, but he's still at the same location at 1308 E. Cary Street in historic Shockoe Slip. Custom jewelry ranging from $60 to the sky's the limit.

"The finest jewelry is still created by hand... one piece at a time. Each of our exquisite pieces is superbly crafted to your wishes, fitting your lifestyle and dreams. A creative approach to fine jewelry - unique - precious - timeless.

"Three in-house designer goldsmiths: Don Dransfield, a jewelry maker since 1973, blends his passion for gemstones and precious metals to create jewelry ou will love to call your own.

"Kristen Powers combines a background in painting with her skills as a goldsmith and designer to create special one-of-a-kind jewelery.

"Daniel Eaves is a master jeweler who uses his knowledge of jewelry styles and techniques to create new heirlooms for you to treasure."

Members of:
*Jewelers of America
*Society of North American Goldsmiths
*Virginia Jewelers Association
*Retail Merchants Association of Greater Richmond
*Greater Richmond Chamber of Commerce.

www.dranfieldjewelers.com
(804) 643-0171
Free validated parking at Standard Parking, 14th and Cary streets.

I hope you learn a valuable lesson from all this, you know

(I saw you...)
Hey, hey baby, how ya doin'? Come on in here.
(Walking in the rain...)
Got some hot chocolate on the stove waiting for you.
Listen, first things first. Let me hang up that coat.
(You were holding hands and I'll...)
Yeah. How was your day today?
Did you miss me?
(Never be the same...) [repeats in background]
Oh, you did? Yeah? I missed you too.
I missed you so much I followed you today.
That's right. Now close your mouth, 'cause you cold busted!
That's right, now sit down here; sit down here.
I'm so upset with you I don't know what to do.
You know my first impulse was to run up on you and do a Rambo.
I was about to jam you and flat blast both of you.
But I didn't wanna mess up this thirty-seven-hundred-dollar lynx coat.
So instead, I chilled -- that's right, chilled.

I went to the bank and took out every dime.
Then I went and cancelled all those credit cards... yeah!
All your charge accounts... yeah!
I stuck you up for every piece of jewelery I ever bought you!
Yeah, that's right! Everything!
Everything.
No, don't go lookin' in that closet, 'cause you ain't got nothin' in there.
Everything you came here with is packed up and waiting for you in the guest room. That's right.
What was you thinking about? Huh? What are you trying to prove?
You was with the Juice!
I gave you silk suits, blue diamonds, Gucci handbags...
I gave you things you couldn't even pronounce!
But now I can't give you nothing but advice.
'Cause you still young. That's right, you still young.
I hope you learn a valuable lesson from all this, you know.
You're gonna find somebody like me one of these days.
Until then, you know what you gotta do?
You gotta get on outta here with that alley-cat-coat-wearing,
Hush Puppy-shoe-wearing crumb cake I saw you with! 'Cause you dismissed!
That's right. Silly rabbit, tricks are made for kids, don't you know that?!?
You without me is like corn flakes without the milk!!!
It's my world; you're just a squirrel trying to get a nut!!!
Now get on outta here. Scat!!!
- Oran, "The Rain"

State employees who should get a gold watch

Mood: irritated
Nicholas C. Kyrus, deputy commissioner for the Bureau of Financial Institutions, State Corporation Commission. Nick the Greek should receive early retirement as a reward for making banking safe for rich people, which is the way it should be, damnit, and the Hell with A.P. Giannini. (BTW, can't we get any government employees that sprechen zee Anglais? Judging from a recent visit to a Social Security office, the credo "of, by, and for the people" has been replaced "by and for immigrants.")

To Eugene Trani, high poohbah of VCU, the thanks of a grateful Richmond for violating just about every principle taught by William H. Whyte on creating livable, human-centered cities while at the architecture school at that other white meat, er school, UVA. Make like a bee and buzz off, Genie, before I turn VCU into a frog, er, small community college in western Virginia. Hey, RPI didn't last forever in Richmond. Why should VCU?

Nathan's for custom tailoring

Tres Riches Heures recommends Nathan's at 828 E. Main Street for custom tailoring, including shirts. I buy all my ties at Nathan's. If memory serves me, Mrs. Nathan was a member of Students for a Democratic Society at Columbia and participated in the 1968 student revolt there that shook the world.

Weasels ripped my flesh

Mood: irritated
Now Playing: Ditto by Frank Zappa
That's about what it would take for this hardened cynic, after a decade of being a barnacle on the ass of VCU, to admit to what his senses, or his sensei, tell him. Virginia Commonwealth University is on its way to becoming a world-class university and a university of/to the world. Now if they only had a football team... You really can't be a real university unless you have a football team with cheerleaders driven by blonde ambition and a honking big stadium that you have to destroy most of downtown to build. And you think I'm joking...

How to solve (some of) Richmond's problems

Mood: incredulous
I have a t-shirt I got from Target that I wear all the time. It says: “Let me drop everything and work on your problems.” Because Dr. Tres Heures is a nice guy, I’m going to do that today. First of all, problem solving doesn’t work. For more on this, see Robert Fritz. Many of the ideas you will see here come from his books. For the purpose of this discussion, I realize that many people believe that problem-solving does work, because it’s the prevailing approach in our society. I will address problem-solving in a manner similar to that of Steve Martin in his King Tut period, when he had a joke that went like this: I’m going to tell you how to earn a million dollars and not pay any taxes. First, get your hands on a million dollars. Next, when the IRS comes around and asks why you didn’t pay any taxes, say, “I forgot.”

Many problems are problems only because we say they are problems. Public drunkenness is a major problem in Richmond, and “fixing” this problem is a major industry for law enforcement and social services. In Japan, public drunkenness is not a problem. It exists, but it is not defined as a problem. End of problem. Ditto, in Richmond and America, boinking 16-year-old girls is another problem that law enforcement and social services spend a lot of time on. In reality, it is not a problem, but the consequence of millions of years of evolution. Oh, I forgot, we don’t believe in evolution. In Europe, schtupping 16-year-old girls is not a problem. It is a magazine (actually, several). End of problem.

In bourgeois Canada, Australia, and Holland, prostitution is a career choice/business. In bourgeois America, it's a problem. In the U.S., welfare is a problem. In the U.K., the dole is a subsidy to artists, writers, musicians, freethinkers, eccentrics, cranks, and cause-mongers. See UB-40.

In 1865 America, you were a if you had a beard. In the 2005 Middle East, you are still a righteous dude. Let's hear it for tradition. In 2005 America, beards are a problem. If you have one, you are a bum, boho, Arab, terrorist, academic, or working man - all of which are held in equal contempt by the American public.

Domestic violence and divorce are defined as problems. They are not problems, but symptoms of a fact of life. Get close. Get closer. Let me whisper this in your ear: SOME PEOPLE JUST CAN’T GET ALONG WITH EACH OTHER. Let me repeat that in case it didn’t penetrate your thick skull or the wax in your ears. SOME PEOPLE JUST CAN’T GET ALONG WITH EACH OTHER. Once again, for people who don’t like shouting: Some people just can’t get along with each other.

The fact that you can't drink arsenic, sleep in a rattlesnake den, or fly when you jump off a cliff are not problems. They are facts of life (and death). Once you accept this simple fact of life, that some people just can't get along with each other, then life becomes simple. You need to get away from people you can’t get along with, stay away from them, and find other people with whom you can get along. How can you tell if you can’t along with your significant other? Calling the cops is a major indicator that the two of you just can’t get along with each other.

It also helps if you realize another fact of life: Both people in a relationship have to want to be in the relationship for it to work. If one of them doesn’t want to be in the relationship any more, then the relationship is over. You are now in a former relationship. Accept that reality, move on, and find someone else who does want to be in a relationship with you.

At this point, many people whine to Dr. Tres Heures that their former sweetie is so beautiful/rich/famous/smart/successful/talented/creative/handy to have around the house that they don’t want to move on and are willing to accept the resultant grief involved in hanging on, clinging to the other person’s leg as they try to get out the door. You mean you can’t find someone else who has those qualities or more of them in a country of 300 million people? What you are really saying is that you are lazy.

Homelessness: if you sleep outside when you’re middle class and up, that’s called camping. That’s not a problem, but an industry. If you aren’t affluent, sleeping outside is a problem. You can stop defining homelessness as a problem. You can accept that some people live on the streets because 1) They really like living outdoors or they enjoy the challenge, i.e. they are campers; 2) they’re mentally ill, drug-addled, or have such low IQs that they don’t know any better; 3) They’re the working poor and they don’t make enough money from their jobs to afford a home; 4) They suffer from character deficiencies: they’re criminals, lazy, or drug-addled; and 5) They were in the wrong place at the wrong time (laid off, burned out, or turned out by their former significant other with whom they simply couldn’t get along – see above).

At that point, you can decide which groups you want to help, how you separate them out, and how much you want to help each of them. There are very efficient ways to house people without homes - they're called barracks by the armed forces - and storage facilities. For an example of a storage business that could very easily adapted to "solve" the homeless problem, see GE's units near the intersection of West Broad and Willow Lawn Drive. For mobile methods of storage that could rejiggered for people, take a look at the SmartBox and PODS.Why these methods aren't being used to house the homeless is beyond the scope of this essay, but I would attribute this to squeamishness or a failure of will or imagination by the community.

One reason society makes it hard to be homeless is that if it were easier, more people would simply walk away from a structure that is inefficient and anti-human. If enough people did so, as was the case with the Mayans, then that civilization would collapse

Scarce resources: The founder of the Japanese electronics firm, Panasonic, observed a bum drinking water from a spigot in a neighborhood after World War II. No one was upset by this because water was plentiful. He envisioned a world in which consumer electronics were almost as easily available as water. (more to come)

Let's go (international) surfing

Mood: bright
I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills
With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills
Man came by to hook up my cable TV
We settled in for the night my baby and me
We switched 'round and 'round 'til half-past dawn
There was fifty-seven channels and nothin' on.
- Bruce Springsteen

That was 1992 and you're way past that if you've got digital cable. But what if you've maxed out at Trio, or you're a homesick international traveler and your hotel offers nothing but basic cable - and there's still nothin' on? Well, you can "come on down" to the first floor of the James Branch Cabell Library, 901 Park Avenue, in the heart of Virginia Commonwealth University. View over 60 television channels (more than 57, my friend) from around the world. Turn on, tune in, jack in (the headphones), and drop in on the rest of the planet's living rooms. Watch a Thai or Malay (?) infomercial for the LeSasha, a portable gizmo that apparently melts away cellulite - more fun than "What's Up, Tiger Lily?". Check out Arabic soap operas, Bollywood music videos, and, of course, the international news. The International Newsroom is a service of the VCU office of International Education, open to the public the same hours as Cabell library. Perk up for the drive home with a cup of Joe from Java 901, also on the first floor, which sells Starbucks coffee. Purchases made there help the VCU libraries buy books.