CALL ME SNAKE

One of my jobs before going to bed on Sunday night is to finish reading the Sunday Boston Globe. I looked everywhere but couldn't find the Globe Magazine. I thus went to bed unfulfilled, without completing my mandate. As I slept, I was vaguely aware of something lumpy underneath. But I never figured out what it was until the morning: The Boston Globe Magazine, which my wife had read in bed. I didn't absorb much of the magazine's contents during my sleep but some of the newsprint did rub off on me.

Where else but in Cambridge do you find a book like "Sex As a Heap of Malfunctioning Rubble" at a yard sale? I purchased it on an impulse not because I need a copy (I already own one) but because I was so surprised to see it there that I could not resist. In case you're not familiar with the book, it's a science humor collection (circa 1993) that I contributed to. And, to its credit, it's the only book I know of that's honest enough to issue the following disclaimer: "The entire physical universe, including this book, may one day collapse back into an infinitesimally small space. Should another universe subsequently reemerge, the existence of this book in that universe cannot be guaranteed." I think cosmology now suggests a different fate altogether though I still appreciate the spirit of that disclaimer.

Yesterday, on the way to my regular handball game, I saw a ton of policeman near the Y and a big crowd across the street at Cambridge City Hall. "What's going on?" I asked Pat at the front desk. She told me they were having a wake for an old-time Cambridge pol. "And the pool is closed," she added.

"How come?" I asked.

"He got old and died," she said.

I heard that Joe Biden had been saying some good things this year during the campaign but then I heard absolutely nothing about him for so long that I thought he must have dropped out. He's still in the race but if 2007 fundraising statistics for the town of Cambridge, Mass. are any indication, he is way down. In fact, in this ultraliberal bastion, more money has been donated to the campaigns of Mitt Romney, Rudy Gulliani, Ron Paul, and John McCain than to Biden, which must be rather sobering to partisans of the Delaware senator. The only good news: Biden has raised $2,495 more than perennial candidate Dennis Kucinich.

Year after year, our kids complain about day camp, so next year we're going to try something different: terrorist camp.

My wife told me that she's worried about our seven-year old daughter who said earlier tonight: "There's no heaven. It's just sky up there." I told my wife I wasn't sure we should be worrying about the fact that our daughter is right.

Fortunately, I don't have substance abuse problems. But last night I had a harrowing dream in which I was a drug addict. I work up at 4 in the morning, relieved that it was just a dream. However, I was so shaken up by the experience that I barely got back to sleep. My wife has chided me, at times, for being an exercise addict but after last night I've decided that's not so bad.

My previous post, "I Almost Sprayed a Skunk," seems to have struck a nerve and elicited the following response from one Marco Polo (aka Markus Polus and various other aliases), which stands as today's Celebrity Guest Comment (slightly edited by the author):

That reminds me of a true story as a lad of 18 who'd taken a break from a 'gathering of peers' on the outskirts of our fair town: (the law'd changed the year before, so our "lubrication-of-choice" was now legal). As I submitted to Nature's call, I noticed a small, striped creature waddling thru the underbrush, who must've been surprised at the outbreak of a ... shower on a sunny day. As it cleared some brush, giving us both clear view, the creature looked back to examine the 'source' of the shower and, by it's reaction, was not too impressed!

THE AUTHOR'S REBUTTAL: One night about 10 years ago, when our city had been deluged with more than a foot of rainwater, I had to relieve myself in the back yard--during a downpour--as our basement was flooded and the drain all backed up. Before I'd finished my business, a little skunk wandered by and almost got hit by my spray (which was the first time I almost sprayed a skunk though not the last). The skunk just avoided getting hit and, fortunately, did not try to retaliate.

 P.S. This was accidentally deleted, along with some great comments. Sorry about that.

One of the nice things about blogging (at least for some) is the anonymity. But things are different when you are famous. Today I was at a playground with my 5-year-old and her friend when a dad at the park asked if I wrote a blog about Cambridge.

"Yes, but how could you know that?" I asked. He said he recognized me from the (rather hazy) picture on this blog. And there I was caught redhanded. Outed as it were--the first time it has ever happened, but it only takes once to be outed and then, as they say, you can't put the genie back in the bottle again. So I can no longer walk around, unseen, chronicling the events in this town. I am now known. And apparently being noticed.

I used to go around saying, "I coulda' been somebody." Now that I am somebody, I'd just as soon go back to being coulda'.

My previous post, "I Almost Sprayed a Skunk," seems to have struck a nerve and elicited the following response from one Marco Polo (aka Markus Polus and various other aliases), which stands as today's Celebrity Guest Comment (slightly edited by the author):

That reminds me of a true story as a lad of 18 who'd taken a break from a 'gathering of peers' on the outskirts of our fair town: (the law'd changed the year before, so our "lubrication-of-choice" was now legal). As I submitted to Nature's call, I noticed a small, striped creature waddling thru the underbrush, who must've been surprised at the outbreak of a ... shower on a sunny day. As it cleared some brush, giving us both clear view, the creature looked back to examine the 'source' of the shower and, by it's reaction, was not too impressed!

THE AUTHOR'S REBUTTAL: One night about 10 years ago, when our city had been deluged with more than a foot of rainwater, I had to relieve myself in the back yard--during a downpour--as our basement was flooded and the drain all backed up. Before I'd finished my business, a little skunk wandered by and almost got hit by my spray (which was the first time I almost sprayed a skunk though not the last). The skunk just avoided getting hit and, fortunately, did not try to retaliate.