She said. She liked. The Ocean.
Heading west for Scotty Connorso's wedding, y'all. Back on the First of July.
Have a fun week at work.
Freelance writer. Editor and web-video producer. Former Atlantic City Press and Philadelphia Weekly staff writer, City Paper managing editor/columnist and Dougherty for Senate campaign manager. Comments welcome here or emailed to brianhickey9 [at] hotmail. Now on: Facebook (Brian Hickey, in Philly) Twitter at www.twitter.com/brianhickey Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/people/brianhickey/. Be sure to check out Hickey on Divorce Court: divorcecourting.blogspot.com.
Seems as if NASA is finally doing something worth paying attention to. To wit: The discovery of what may be ice on Mars.
Getting ready to pack up and head out of town, so what better time to play the rest of the tourney out with some Hick's picks. Winners in bold (picks made after Germany's win over Portugal):
Pot-smoking Crossing Guard
So...this is kind of weird. I was walking down 18th by Mt. Vernon, across from the school playground and two women were standing on the corner, smoking a joint. One of them was wearing a crossing guard vest and checking for traffic.
For one thing, I thought that school was out, but there were kids at the playground, so maybe they have a summer program. Secondly, I'm all for legalization, but I have a gigantic problem having a hophead in charge of the safety of children crossing the street.
Any suggestions on the proper channels to report this?
Got a bunch of work to deal with today, so won't be able to do much exploring, but over the next few weeks I'll be playing around with this Redlasso site which enables you to pull clips straight off the TV. Rather cool. Rather likely to be shut down within minutes, but hey, ride the wave, y'know?
Oakland Raiders wide receiver Javon Walker could be released from the hospital Tuesday, a day after he was beaten, robbed and left unconscious on a Las Vegas street after a night of partying, police said.
A large amount of cash and some jewelry were taken from Walker, who suffered "significant injuries," police said.
Police Lt. Clinton Nichols said detectives are retracing Walker's activities in the hours before he was found injured Monday morning on a street off the Las Vegas Strip.
If it's the goal of some writers to be loathed, even after death, by their profession's peers, this is the late William F. Buckley's lucky week. Check out this nugget from the Sunday New York Times Magazine's "Questions For" ... Gore Vidal:
How did you feel when you heard that Buckley died this year? "I thought hell is bound to be a livelier place, as he joins forever those whom he served in life, applauding their prejudices and fanning their hatred."
Even the briefest of surveys of the supporters gracing McCain's events underscores the kind of red-meat appeal he's making. Immediately after his speech in New Orleans, a pair of sweet-looking old ladies put down their McCain signs long enough to fill me in on why they're here. "I tell you," says one, "if Michelle Obama really doesn't like it here in America, I'd be very pleased to raise the money to send her back to Africa."
The diminutive and smiling old lady's friend leans over. "That's going a little too far, dear."
"Too far?" says the first. "Farrakhan is saying they were brought here against their will, and their bodies are still feeding the sharks at the bottom of the sea! I mean, really!"
"OK, sharks still eating bodies," I say, writing it all down. "Could I have your name, ma'am?"
"Janice Berg," says the first old lady. "And lest you think I'm Jewish, the name comes from Norway. Berg is 'mountain' in Norwegian. I'm part German, part French myself."
A few paces away, I catch up with a man named Ron Saucier and a woman who would only identify herself as Mary. Ron says his problem with Obama is the integrity thing. "He exaggerates too much," Ron says. "He's not honest."
"OK," I say. "What does he exaggerate about?"
"Well, like that time he was saying he had a white mother and a white grandmother," he says.
I ask him how this is an exaggeration.
"Well, he was saying . . ." he begins. "As if that qualifies him to . . ."
Despite my repeated prodding, Ron seems unable or unwilling to say aloud exactly what he means. Finally, his friend Mary, a grave-looking blonde with fierce anger lines around her eyes, jumps in, points a finger and blurts out one of the all-time man-on-the-street quotes.
"Look, you either are or you aren't," she says.
"And he aren't," Ron says, nodding with relief.
Rolling Stone: I guess something convinced you finally that you were, in fact, straight.
Chris Martin: Well, I was swayed by boobs. Let's face it. They're fantastic.
As an "appetizer" for last night's Euro 2008 games in Vienna, Austria and Germany fielded women's soccer teams with six on a side.
Austria won, 10-5, over their larger neighbor, but at the end of the game, they had to forego the traditional shirt swap. The reason? Both teams were clad only in thongs.
Judging from the pictures (which men worldwide were poring over last night) the "uniforms" were very tasteful.
The thongs were accompanied by white paint that looked like shorts, and everything above the waist was painted to look like a jersey.
Time's short today, so here's a rapid-fire roundup of interesting nuggets from the weekend papers.
Vinod Khosla created Sun Microsystems with Stanford classmates Scott McNealy and Andy Bechtolsheim, and Bill Joy. He later joined the venture-capital firm Kleiner Perkins Caufield & Byers, one of Silicon Valley’s premier investment shops.
Vinod Khosla: The media people essentially did not think the Internet would be important or disruptive. In 1996, I got together the C.E.O.’s of 9 of the 10 major newspaper companies in America in a single room to propose something called the New Century Network. It was the C.E.O.’s of The Washington Post and The New York Times and Gannett and Times Mirror and Tribune and I forget who else. They couldn’t convince themselves that a Google, a Yahoo, or an eBay would be important, or that eBay could ever replace classified advertising.
His dreams were too big for that place. So why, oh why, did they capture him and take him back.
A spider monkey new to the [Michigan City, Ind.] Washington Park Zoo used a garden hose to scale the walls of a moat and make a break for freedom. Workers were cleaning the moat at the time Wednesday. Zoo Director Johnny Martinez says workers had figured the monkeys would remain inside their enclosure during the cleaning even though the moat was empty of water. However, one monkey made it past the moat, grabbed the hose and jumped onto the roof of a water filtration plant.
The zoo staff recaptured the adventurous monkey at a nearby boat dealership, where they found it perched atop a white and blue speedboat.
The other day, Bride Hickey told me that "quitting time" in my temporary world of leisure isn't until 4 p.m. I hope Bride Hickey doesn't log on today and see this photo, then. (What can I say? It Lee's on now, and Holland/France will be on luego.)
... on orders from Chairman Mao they weren't to pose for photos, exchange flags or initiate conversation with Americans. Indeed, Mao had once said, "Regard a Ping-Pong ball as the head of your capitalist enemy. Hit it with your socialist bat, and you have won the point for the fatherland." As Zhuang says today, "At that time we were still in the Cultural Revolution. Any exchange with Westerners would be [attacked] with vicious labels, such as 'treason' or 'spy.' So when this American guy got on the bus, nobody dared talk to him."
Yet in the awkward space of those moments, Zhuang [Zedong, the three-time world champion] felt himself torn. What of the charge to the team to put "friendship first"? What of the core teaching of Confucianism, in which he'd been raised, which holds nothing more precious than harmony? For all Zhuang knew, this American had boarded the bus to offer a greeting, and as the team's most accomplished player, the Chinese star felt a particular responsibility to reply in graceful kind. "I was thinking, China has been well-known as a country of hospitality for more than 5,000 years," he says. "If everyone ignores that American athlete, it would be ironic. Then I looked at him and thought, He's not involved in issuing policy. He's just an athlete, an ordinary person."
Zhuang stood and started up the aisle toward Cowan. His teammates urged him to stop and one tugged at his shirt to restrain him, but through the interpreter he began a conversation. "Even now," says Zhuang, "I can't forget the naive smile on his face."
About a decade ago Cowan briefly married, but the relationship ended after two months. By then, having discovered paddle tennis, he was hanging out on the courts at Venice Beach, hustling games. He lost his apartment, then spent several years living out of his car and on the streets, Lechtick says. "He'd be at the courts at Venice Beach, begging money. He'd be barefoot and borrow someone's racket and still win. Even when he was homeless, he always had a backpack with that Ping-Pong book he wrote."
Around 2000 Cowan underwent a bypass operation following a heart attack. He died of another heart attack on April 6, 2004, the eve of the 33rd anniversary of China's invitation to the U.S. team. He was 52. "He was like a comet," says Lange, Cowan's former doubles partner. "Flashed through the sky and then gone."
Or as Tannehill puts it, "After China, everything seemed to be useless." Then he poses a rhetorical question that could serve as Cowan's epitaph. "How could you do better than world peace?"
"We will have zero tolerance for this type of activity," [Chief Inspector William Colarulo] said, "and in light of Welcome America approaching, you will see frequent raids of these houses of prostitution that are thinly disguised as massage parlors."
The target of the 1:40 p.m. raid was a nondescript, gray, three-story rowhouse at 1235A Vine St. that houses Rainbow, a business that advertised "body shampoo and total relaxation" this week in the Philadelphia City Paper and Philadelphia Weekly.
Ah, God bless you, leisure time. Just got done watching a nice 2:20 p.m. Cubs/Braves start. Nice, in that the Cubs tied the game 2-2 on a Jim Edmonds HR in the bottom of the ninth. It was 1940s-ish throwback day, so they had graphics as such ...
I think it was either 1995, 1996, or 1997. A fuzzy era, cut me some slack. In any event, I was over in London visiting an old college roommate on spring break. It was about a 20 minute train ride from downtown, going right passed (what I think was) the factory over which a pig flies on Pink Floyd's Animals cover, as best I recall.
On April 11, [45-year-old Lynne] Long-Higham [on right in photo] hosted a coed teen party at her home on South Dove Road, according to the complaint filed against her. About 20 teens attended the party. Six boys - five of them at the time were 15 and one was 14 - stayed the night.
[38-year-old Angela] Honeycutt began a sexually explicit conversation with the boys and "stated something to the effect that 'men have to take control to get something they want,' " court papers said. She then allegedly began kissing one of the boys.
Three of the teens later accompanied her to a bedroom, where she asked, "Who wants to take a shower?" authorities said.
One of the boys got in the shower with her and engaged in sexual intercourse, the court papers said. Long-Higham and two boys listened at the bathroom door, the documents said. One of the teens noted that Honeycutt "could get into trouble for this," and Long-Higham told him "that's why you can't tell anyone," the court documents said.
Later, Honeycutt allegedly engaged in sex acts with a second teen in the bathroom, and she also was accused of exposing herself and doing a dance during the course of the evening that was "sexual in nature."
The fact of the matter is that Obama is black militant muslim, and I just can't trust the office of commander in chief of the United States of America with a BLACK MILITANT MUSLIM.
I think we should impeach Obama as soon as possible.
"My love for you is like a truck, Bear Zur Kuh."
Yesterday, at Central Appliance on Ridge Avenue, White explains to Lefty:
"It wasn't blowing cool air like before." Even after she added two fans to her muggy room, "it wasn't enough. Even if you kept completely still."
To combat the thick heat, White, 32, and her two children have been getting wet in their inflatable pool out back, then going up to the bedroom to huddle in front of the ailing air conditioner.
White watches as Lefty, working with his left hand, bangs and unscrews, then pops the cover off her air conditioner. It's noon and way up in the 90s, and the 57-year-old repairman is wearing a damp rag on his head.
He checks the filter, and brushes out the dust with a small broom, as Teddy Pendergrass growls on the radio.
When it comes to fixing air conditioners, explains Lefty, who's been doing this "too long," sometimes it's just Freon. Sometimes the filter is dirty. Sometimes there's a hole in the line. Sometimes it's the compressor, and once that goes bad, the air conditioner is dead.
"Yesterday, I didn't get to eat lunch until 6 p.m.," Lefty says of the demand for his expertise.
"We have to accept this loss and look ahead to our next two games," Italy coach Roberto Donadoni said. "That's the great thing about this (tournament). We face Romania right away and we need a win to restore our pride. We have to go out onto the field believing we can win."
The Italians may have had billboards saying "Spremuta d'Orange" -- freshly squeezed orange juice -- but it was a Dutch squeezing which left the Azzurri blue in the face.
It was Italy's worst defeat since Oct. 15, 1983, when the team lost to Sweden 3-0 in Naples in a European Championship qualifier. Italy's biggest loss at the final tournament came in the 1988 semifinals when the Soviet Union beat it 2-0.
Four of the hooligans detained in Klagenfurt were still in custody Monday morning but two were released later in the day, local police said. Earlier, Kogler had identified all four as German nationals. About 140 people were detained in the southern city late Sunday for shouting Nazi-like slogans.
Vumilia was like many other Africans with albinism. She had dropped out of school because of severe near-sightedness, a common problem for albinos, whose eyes develop abnormally and who often have to hold things like books or cellphones two inches away to see them. She could not find a job because no one would hire her. She sold peanuts in the market, making $2 a week while her delicate skin was seared by the sun.
When Vumilia’s mother, Jeme, saw the men with knives, she tried to barricade the door of their hut. But the men overpowered her and burst in.
“They cut my daughter quickly,” she said, making hacking motions with her hands.
The men sawed off Vumilia’s legs above the knee and ran away with the stumps. Vumilia died.
So you’re doing the Land of the Lost movie with Will Ferrell right now.
Right now. Literally, right before I got on the phone with you, I was just being chased by an army of Sleestaks. They’re just as scary as you remember ‘em.
As for Mr. Clinton, he boiled with resentment that a candidate with as little experience as Mr. Obama was given what he considered a free pass by the news media. Yet his tone struck some as dismissive. When Mr. Clinton referred publicly to Mr. Obama as a “kid,” Representative James E. Clyburn, Democrat of South Carolina, recalled in an interview that a fellow black congressman said, “I don’t know why he didn’t just call him ‘boy’ and get it over with.”
In private, Mr. Clinton was making matters worse. On the night of the South Carolina primary, Mr. Clinton called and Mr. Clyburn said he told him to tone down his rhetoric against Mr. Obama. Mr. Clinton responded by calling him a rude name that Mr. Clyburn would not repeat in an interview. Mr. Clinton called back a few days later for what Mr. Clyburn called “a much more pleasant conversation,” but the damage was done. “Clinton was using code words that most of us in the South can recognize when we hear that kind of stuff,” Mr. Clyburn said.
Andrews said he had received a call from a high-ranking person in Clinton's campaign shortly after he made some positive comments about Clinton's rival, Barack Obama, just before Pennsylvania's April 22 primary.
The caller told him about a campaign strategy to win Jewish voters by exploiting tensions between Jews and blacks, said Andrews, who declined to name the person who had called him.
"Frankly, I had a private conversation with a high-ranking person in the campaign . . . that used a racial line of argument that I found very disconcerting," he said. "It was extremely disconcerting given the rank of this person. It was very disturbing."
In 1995, Mr. Gallagher was jogging in Avalon, N.J., when he collapsed. "Somebody found me there on the sidewalk," he said in a 2003 Inquirer story. "The next thing I knew, I was being loaded into an ambulance."
Gallagher, then 30, was diagnosed with a brain tumor half the size of a lemon. After surgery, he reassessed his life. He formed a support group for others, and realized he had much to offer newly diagnosed patients.
Mr. Gallagher decided to leave the business world to pursue a career in medicine. Seeking a more peaceful life, he moved to Narberth, where he met his future wife, Lisa Cosentino, and enrolled in the physician-assistant program at Drexel University.
He earned a master of health science certification in 2005 - the year in which he was diagnosed with an aggressive recurrence of his tumor and he married Cosentino.
He continued undaunted. "Jim never gave up," his wife said. "Each time his doctor asked him to rate his quality of life on a scale of one to 10, he always said, '10.' "
A fine, fine nugget in today's Inquirer piece about a hearing (for a defendant in case related to the copter-caught police-beating) turned octagon bout. The Perrine referenced is D. Scott Perrine, defense for Pete Hopkins, 19, Kensington.
Perrine allegedly went to Curran-Fromhold in Northeast Philadelphia on Oct. 24 to see a client. When officers searched his briefcase, authorities say, they found a vial of cocaine.
Court records say Perrine told prison officials that a client had surrendered the cocaine to him and that he forgot it was in his briefcase.
So, a Monday or two back, I was in a cab on MLK Drive heading home from 30th Street after a long weekend in Montreal when me and cabbie's attention were both drawn toward the sky. There was a commercial jet flanked, on both sides, by military fighters. They were cruising toward Center City over the Schuylkill River. Not sure what it was all about since it apparently escaped press attention.
Was your best man not on his best behavior? Post your bachelor party photos on our new wedding section
So, the other night I managed to set a personal record at Run 21
In about three hours, the team will board a plane for Tampa Bay for Game One [of an Eastern Conference Finals series that they'll ultimately lose]. About a day and a half earlier, with 12 minutes and 21 seconds left in overtime against the Toronto Maple Leafs, Jeremy Roenick blasted a series-clinching, overtime wrist shot into the net and danced up the side of the rink.
It was one of those unforgettable plays, yet it wasn't the topic of conversation. Instead, many minds were still replaying what had happened 44 seconds earlier.
Joni Pitkanen passes to Michal Handzus. Handzus fires a wrister that sails over the net and around the boards out toward the blue line. Sami Kapanen darts in to keep the puck in the offensive zone when thwap. Right in front of a rink advertisement reading "Famous Players," Toronto's Darcy Tucker catches Kapanen just wrong.
The impact of the collision leaves Kapanen parallel to the ice before his body falls 5 feet and slams into the playing surface. Blue-jerseyed Leafs fans roar. Kapanen doesn't seem to know where he is, but play continues. He tries to get up, he falls. He tries to get up again, he falls again. Finally regaining some semblance of clarity, he makes his way toward the bench.
Captain Keith Primeau -- who's rapidly approaching that top tier -- reaches out from the bench with a stick to pull his teammate to safety, just seconds before Roenick gets the puck, skates over the ice where Kapanen was just flailing and ends the game. The teams line up for the traditional post-series handshake line; Primeau doesn't join them until heading to the bench to check on his wounded teammate who'd soon recover enough to shake hands with the Leafs' himself. ("He'll leave a lot out on that surface," says an announcer of Kapanen, a 30-year-old Finn in just his second season with the team.)
"With all the desperation and tension, especially on the Leafs' part, it will go down as a hit I'll never forget," says John Buccigross, host of ESPN's NHL 2Night. "Whenever ignorant media types talk of hockey's demise, I'd like to pop in the tape of the Flyers and Leafs overtime and tell them to shut up."
About 36 hours had passed when Hitchcock was asked in Voorhees about Kapanen's condition. Discussing the first time Kapanen was back on the ice since the Tucker shot, Hitchcock responded, "He knew my name, which was a pretty good sign."
Longtime readers of this here blog already know that I hereby decree Kimbo Slice the future of unmitigated brutality. So imagine the pure rage that bubbled up when I got home Saturday night only to have realized that the TiVo cut off two hours into the CBS-aired telecast of MMA brawlin' in Newark. Unlike I do with soccer games, I forgot to pad on an additional hour or so to ensure I catch all the action. (Speaking of which, Euro2008 starts Saturday. Catch it!) In any event, here's round three of Kimbo going all tear-dude-ear off.
The same Huffington Post reporter who broke the Obama “bitter” story got a new scoop yesterday of Bill Clinton lashing out at Vanity Fair’s Todd Purdum and calling him “sleazy,” “dishonest” and “slimy” for his critical magazine article on Clinton. It’s worth noting that the HuffPo reporter didn’t identify herself as a reporter and said she disliked the article when asking for his reaction.
From the piece: “Tightly gripping this reporter's hand and refusing to let go, Clinton heatedly denounced the writer, who is currently married to his former White House Press Secretary, Dee Dee Myers. ‘[He's] sleazy,’ he said referring to Purdum. ‘He's a really dishonest reporter. And one of our guys talked to him… And I haven't read [the article]. There's just five or six blatant lies in there. But he's a real slimy guy,’ the former President said. When I reminded him that Purdum was married to his former press spokesperson Myers, Clinton was undeterred. ’That's all right-- he's still a scumbag,’ Clinton said. ‘Let me tell ya--he's one of the guys -- he's one of the guys that brought out all those lies about Whitewater to Kenneth Starr. He's just a dishonest guy-- can't help it.’”
According to Ms. Lewinsky, she and the President had ten sexual encounters, eight while she worked at the White House and two thereafter.(35) The sexual encounters generally occurred in or near the private study off the Oval Office -- most often in the windowless hallway outside the study.(36) During many of their sexual encounters, the President stood leaning against the doorway of the bathroom across from the study, which, he told Ms. Lewinsky, eased his sore back.(37)
Ms. Lewinsky testified that her physical relationship with the President included oral sex but not sexual intercourse.(38) According to Ms. Lewinsky, she performed oral sex on the President; he never performed oral sex on her.(39) Initially, according to Ms. Lewinsky, the President would not let her perform oral sex to completion. In Ms. Lewinsky's understanding, his refusal was related to "trust and not knowing me well enough."(40) During their last two sexual encounters, both in 1997, he did ejaculate.(41)
According to Ms. Lewinsky, she performed oral sex on the President on nine occasions. On all nine of those occasions, the President fondled and kissed her bare breasts. He touched her genitals, both through her underwear and directly, bringing her to orgasm on two occasions. On one occasion, the President inserted a cigar into her vagina. On another occasion, she and the President had brief genital-to-genital contact.(42)
Whereas the President testified that "what began as a friendship came to include [intimate contact]," Ms. Lewinsky explained that the relationship moved in the opposite direction: "[T]he emotional and friendship aspects . . . developed after the beginning of our sexual relationship."(43)
Many people advise you to eat a heavy meal, with lots of protein and fats, before or while drinking. If you can’t do that, at least drink a glass of milk. In Africa, the same purpose is served by eating peanut butter. The other most frequent before-and-during recommendation is water, lots of it. Proponents of this strategy tell you to ask for a glass of water with every drink you order, and then make yourself chug-a-lug the water before addressing the drink...
When you get home, is there anything you can do before going to bed? Those still able to consider such a question are advised, again, to consume buckets of water, and also to take some Vitamin C. Koreans drink a bowl of water with honey, presumably to head off the hypoglycemia. Among the young, one damage-control measure is the ancient Roman method, induced vomiting. Nic van Oudtshoorn’s “The Hangover Handbook” (1997) thoughtfully provides a recipe for an emetic: mix mustard powder with water. If you have “bed spins,” sleep with one foot on the floor.
Now to the sorrows of the morning. The list-topping recommendation, apart from another go at the water cure, is the greasy-meal cure. (An American philosophy professor: “Have breakfast at Denny’s.” An English teen-ager: “Eat two McDonald’s hamburgers. They have a secret ingredient for hangovers.”) Spicy foods, especially Mexican, are popular, along with eggs, as in the Denny’s breakfast. Another egg-based cure is the prairie oyster, which involves vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, and a raw egg yolk to be consumed whole. Sugar, some say, should be reapplied. A reporter at the Times: “Drink a six-pack of Coke.” Others suggest fruit juice. In Scotland, there is a soft drink called Irn-Bru, described to me by a local as tasting like melted plastic. Irn-Bru is advertised to the Scots as “Your Other National Drink.” Also widely employed are milk-based drinks. Teen-agers recommend milkshakes and smoothies. My contact in Calcutta said buttermilk. “You can also pour it over your head,” he added. “Very soothing.”
Elsewhere on the international front, many people in Asia and the Near East take strong tea. The Italians and the French prefer strong coffee. (Italian informant: add lemon. French informant: add salt. Alcohol researchers: stay away from coffee—it’s a diuretic and will make you more dehydrated.) Germans eat pickled herring; the Japanese turn to pickled plums; the Vietnamese drink a wax-gourd juice. Moroccans say to chew cumin seeds; Andeans, coca leaves. Russians swear by pickle brine. An ex-Soviet ballet dancer told me, “Pickle juice or a shot of vodka or pickle juice with a shot of vodka.”
Many folk cures for hangovers are soups: menudo in Mexico, mondongo in Puerto Rico, işkembe çorbasi in Turkey, patsa in Greece, khashi in Georgia. The fact that all of the above involve tripe may mean something. Hungarians favor a concoction of cabbage and smoked meats, sometimes forthrightly called “hangover soup.” The Russians’ morning-after soup, solyanka, is, of course, made with pickle juice. The Japanese have traditionally relied on miso soup, though a while ago there was a fashion for a vegetable soup invented and marketed by one Kazu Tateishi, who claimed that it cured cancer as well as hangovers.