Tag Archives: neighbors

As A Resident, I Speak

understanding-distance
Understanding Distance
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Date: Tue Feb 12, 2002 2:10:13 PM America/New_York

Hello neighbors—I can't say I rightfully enjoyed the meeting last night, but it was certainly clarifying. Even though I wholly embarrassed myself in that final swing around the circle by continuing to blubber on ineffectively about what I consider the no brainer potential of a comprehensive and interactive web site to what I felt was an otherwise preoccupied audience, I was pleased to note that despite the tendency of nearly every one of us in attendance to speak repeatedly from our own narrow mantra for what we think ails us as a collective in crisis, I did learn something about the general sense of alienation that the CSI management issue is for some owners in the building with regards to what is considered wasteful spending.

That issue of wasteful spending caught me by surprise, and I guess it shouldn't have, being already privy to the "thrift-wise" and "self-serving" spirits that stimulate most of us. But I was impressed that everyone did make several good points, and that there were enough strong reassuring personalities to help check others who unfortunately exchange the realm of idea for the personal attack far too easily to suit the common good.

The luxury condominium thrust versus the cost-conscious community angst dichotomy could very well sum up the problem that I had seen simply as more parliamentarian neglect on the part of the Board as regards to their simply pushing through spending projects that appeal to genuine capital improvement considerations while ignoring the possible hardships that these decisions, especially when coming in rather rapid succession of each other, may place on others given a conceivable variance in financial circumstances among the ownership.

Again I appeal to the Associations' governing documents. An educated owner is also informed by a general consensus found in the larger body of association institute literature as well as the courts and applicable case law of how these governing documents are mandated as the first, usually final, and nearly always, most persuasive tool we have in clearly recognizing and reasonably honoring the fiduciary trust and incumbent responsibilities a board of directors is elected to discharge for the association as a whole.

Consensus building, that is to say, the obligatory pro-active lobbying of the association membership in rousing necessary support for any large spending project long before before the mad rush to levy a special assessment and hire a contractor, to this particular owner, would seem to be the prime directive of any Board of Directors. I would like to think that this consensus building initiative is why the operations committee, among others, has been formed. I applaud the good faith. Now let's just do the work. With all due respect to our appointed leaders, both at the committee and board level, this consensus building initiative is clearly what is meant when volunteers are called to serve their community.

So we do have some tough issues to resolve since, while our building may simply be a single grandiose house in Jean Masson's words, the legal pitfalls and liabilities of 93 or so heads of household sparring over choices great and small, is hardly the same entity and cannot warrant precisely the same modus operandi as a single large structure serving a single Lord of the Manor, who finances all, instructs his dominion in every detail, and demands trust and obedience with no questions asked.
If the operations committee needs a launching point, and I would agree that it does, I humbly suggest, a careful read of these governing documents by every single person who would claim a seat on this committee, whatever our individual pet peeve or talent.

But I will be organizing my thoughts more concisely in the coming days and have challenged myself to publish these for the Board of Directors and interested members of the Association at large at the January 19 Board meeting.

Some of you may experience some difficulty in accessing the 4707 web site this morning as I move the site over to its own domain:

http://www.4707.org

and kill the old location. Registered on Sunday, world wide propagation of the new domain name should be completed by this afternoon. Conflicting password realms and broken databases caused by the move will take me a short while to rectify. Once the site is again fully in place, the original User ID and password will again be operative. Please note that the site is a work-in-progress and is not sanctioned by the Board of Directors (not that we should not seek it), is hardly fleshed out at all, and is being compiled at the full expense and energies of this unit owner as a labor of love and a project of peace given my own needs to communicate clearly in a forum that provides, however briefly this technology has been among us, just such an historical precedent.

Given certain resistance from one or more officers on the Board, I am also preparing in tandem my arguments calling for the Board to acquiesce to a laissez faire stance concerning this web initiative as it relates to free speech and freedom of assembly issues in order to ease my own anxieties about continuing the work. My recent research of precedent within similar community bodies and case law has thus far revealed nothing to deter us from consolidating and assimilating the body of information we have available to us as owners, but rather the evidence is quite convincingly, favorable. But of course, the body politik will always have the last say. Lack of participation during this heated crisis of commitment by the same concerned ownership the site seeks to serve will effectively render this particular skirmish moot, and not worthy of the Board's condemnation, unless personalities again rule over common sense with the iron mask of misplaced power. Meanwhile, we have our occasional meetings.

Shouting matches stretched weeks and months apart where the spectacle of one's own voice is soon mere ineffective vapor is not my cup of tea. I tremble at the prospect of another one of these round-tables that end rather suddenly with little else to show for it but another date and time for a scarlet reunion. And while I put every trust in our chair Bill Tilghman to effectively parse last night's discussion and present us with yet another laundry list of things to shoot for in some vague future, I request that he and others please feel free to pass this note along to any one else in the 4707 community you feel may benefit. Open communications is my aim despite the quarrels of human nature.

Internet communication is not everyone's first choice in aiming to communicate clearly many rather complex issues, complex if for no other reason than that of an individual being uninformed often as to the conflicting approaches to any solution of a problem already on the table. But then again, hemming and hawing over the same tired diversionary topics is a big turn-off for others as well. And there are tried and true ways to record and codify the wealth of information each owner can contribute to this or any discussion.

In closing, I apologize for what may appear to some readers as linguistic grandstanding in an age of quick soundbytes and spectacular noisemakers on the draw, but as last night's debacle showed me once again, I am decidedly less confident in trying to orally plead a case (especially my own case) when I sense an uphill battle than I am in my own ability to articulate more clearly and more comprehensively via the written word.
Nevertheless, I will continue to contribute to any or all calls to action whenever and wherever I believe I can be most effective to the greater good because I was INDEED ENCOURAGED by the insightful quality of most of the commentary last night.

To recap a few observations I heard from Julie and Lisa and Rachel last night, I too cherish the charming elegance of this old building and yearn for a more comprehensive community spirit, but I also know that after hearing the description of how dreadful an environs (perhaps with some exaggeration) it used to be, it is absolutely silly to surmise that it became such a lovely and alluring abode overnight by always thrusting a tightly clenched fist into the air, refusing to spend a nickel in advance of property values and simple maintenance.

So we do have some tough issues to resolve since, while our building may simply be a single grandiose house in Jean Masson's words, the legal pitfalls and liabilities of 93 or so heads of household sparring over choices great and small, is hardly the same entity and cannot warrant precisely the same modus operandi as a single large structure serving a single Lord of the Manor, who finances all, instructs his dominion in every detail, and demands trust and obedience with no questions asked. Again, trust is manifestly earned, not a perk to be cavalierly presumed by anyone or any smaller group within the larger body honored by the guiding principle of—governing by the consent of the governed.

But finally, let it be said there is little if anything unique about the 4707 Connecticut Avenue Condominium Association, by nature or by nurture. Thus, neither our elected body nor the firms or personnel we hire have any special exemption to go their own way, except as prepared by our own governing documents. We have appropriate guidelines we must abide. It is not mere hyperbole to suggest we ignore them at the peril of our own collective peace of mind. Last night we were offered a reminder of what always happens when the cult of personality dominates, rather than heeding the domination by community law. As good measure, we must rediscover the true path we inherit from our governing documents. Until that day, chaos will plague all of our houses, or at least those who dare involve themselves...

And not everybody will.

In closing, I apologize for what may appear to some readers as linguistic grandstanding in an age of quick soundbytes and spectacular noisemakers on the draw, but as last night's debacle showed me once again, I am decidedly less confident in trying to orally plead a case (especially my own case) when I sense an uphill battle than I am in my own ability to articulate more clearly and more comprehensively via the written word. I hope this note suffices as my sincere contribution to the discussion without harming this confidence, or that of others who feel more comfortable expressing themselves in other considerate and neighborly ways.

Just my two cents as a 4707 resident. By whatever means necessary,

Gabriel Thy
Unit 306

Painting The Last Days Of A Merger That Failed In Capitulation Envy

envy
Capitulation Envy
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Date: At 10:08 AM -0500 3/3/00
From: Timothy S. Shipman

My birthday went as I had planned, fairly anonymously! I had the folks take me to the DC Chop House on 7th St NW near the MCI arena, and that was about that. My father, as is his way, made a spectacle of himself by complaining about the prices, both of food and drink.

Being deaf he has a bad tendency to over compensate when others don't hear what he says, so there was a good amount of yelling outbursts. I think that is the last time I'm ever going to go out to a restaurant with him. "Can't take him anywhere!"

Before I all but quit going out into the city farce, I'd gotten that same way at bars and clubs and with myself in general. Life has a tendancy to become too busy and stall out completely, but nevertheless, I sweat beads of kinetic energy in my own special task to become more focussed on the project and determined to stay focussed on the project just so I can face myself with quiet intelligence despite what the world has to say about me, and in keeping to that intelligence, it feels a lot better now that I've identified how I want to live and where I want to live it, have taken a solid gaze at the old trusty game plan I developed as a child, and after having throttled myself with detection bits across a thousand shortcuts and hand-polished voices I like to think I find in books written just for me, music, fleshpots, sweatshops, moving violations, kindly nods to city fathers to endorse, system bugs, and bugged rugs created just for me, and other photosynthetic blankets of doom, parting gloom, private room closed eye well-hung mushroom clouds a=made for me, all fitting for my time, our tenor, these tribulations flitting back and forth like a ceiling cluttered with Blum's chintzy wire mobiles pointing nowhere in particular and everywhere at once, so much so that sometimes life in this old neighborhood just feels in a word, obsolete.

That this has anything to do with Richard Shipman—he would most certainly plead confusion, that would make him correct once again. Everything is too expensive, and he is confused, and no doubt very proud of it. Sometimes, I chagrin to see myself in him. In others, I thank God every day is Judgement Day and that we, he and I, boast not a few spectacular differences that I shouldn't worry about Richard's particular hill of beans, but have enough bean hills of my own to keep me busy sorting out this from that, thank you very much...

I’d have the room that I need to live another ten years without clutter or squalor except that of the street itself, or should we really begin to cash in on ourselves, we could sell out and get into that promised mansion in the sky, mountain or seashore, urban or primal, heaven or hell, wherever the American pursuit leads.
But I see how it is. Take away man's dignity in work, his manhood, his relevance, and he soon becomes unnaturally obsessed about the smallest speck of dust in the universe when it is very obvious that this particular speck of dust is somebody else's job.

It still may be tougher getting from here to North Arlington than I want it to be, and so the quest to annex the property next door continues its haunt and eats up a lot of brainpower better spent elsewhere I suppose, but the whole affair remains a valuable alternative mythology and day to day memory builder for me, such as it is. Greg II and I haven't spoken since just before the holidays. But one thing is for sure, running this small house formerly known as the Dollhouse rather anonymously ain't the end of the line for me, or if it is, it is expressly against my will, especially if it is alongside these new neighbors who simply ain't a part of the GT plan, but you know me, I usually defer to the host of natural configurations to do most of the work, until that driven part of me steps in to straighten out the kinks and assume in kind what's been given to or is in the process of being taken away from me, whatever the spark is called.

The same's been said about this house on many an occasion, but there's noise and clutter, chaos and anger next door. We've also got rain drainage and perhaps a rodent problem in common. I'd like to solve both problems in one swoop. To get serious about rebuilding this neighborhood so that it can be ready to inherit its present beckoning. The Gabriel and Sue merger of 109 and 111 Eighteenth St. is magical in concept and practicality. I'd have the room that I need to live another ten years without clutter or squalor except that of the street itself, or should we really begin to cash in on ourselves, we could sell out and get into that promised mansion in the sky, mountain or seashore, urban or primal, heaven or hell, wherever the American pursuit leads.

GT

Rogue Turkeys, Crippled Pilgrims, Other Fine American Visiting Traditions

norwegian-holiday
Norwegian Holiday
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Date: Mon, 24 Nov 1997 8:19:35
From: Timothy S. Shipman

So it looks as though it's going to be one of those days, at work....slower than death. Did, in fact, receive the message that you called, but got it pretty late, and of course forgot to call you back on Sunday. I imagine it had something to do with the work you had in mind for me.

So did you manage to have a good Thanksgiving?

As for me, I went over and visited with Chris Reed and Lyzbeth for a short time before meeting-up with the folks, to go eat at the White Tiger, a new incarnation in an old restaurant location at 3rd & Mass Av NE. It has been everything from Man In The Green Hat to Cafe Capri, where I used to deliver pizza to Bangcok Orchid to its present moniker...

Tim

TYPE IN A SUBJECT HEADING IF FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN TO SYNCHRONIZE, oops, sorry for the shouting that this ALL CAPS typing infers, but as I was saying, than to synchronize with all the other notes lining the mailboxed and defrocked worlds of chat and the chatted on my hard drive and yourn.

Civilized manhood truly soaks up the free time. It’s a good thing in the long term if I can fake having plenty of it, time that is, not civilized manhood. Maybe I’ve got that mixed up. Depends on which side of the clock you’re standing behind and whose civilization we’re fighting for…
Shared a pretty decent meal and some idle conversation to make Thanksgiving par for a small group of bogeys that we've reluctantly become. Epstein came over (I hadn't seen him since your birthday bash at the IRISH TIMES a few marches ago), and we plus Allie and an old college chum of BB's named Kevin Kelly burst our collective guts next door. I'd churned together a rather nifty pineapple dressing which Bob stuffed into his 12 pound turkey to complement the quite meaty well-received crab casserole I almost finished up for breakfast this morning. To top it all off Blum served pumpkin pie and whipped cream he'd mashed together from scratch, yes, from scratch both the pie and the whip, including a superb flakier than storebought crust. And I don't even like pumpkin pie, but Bob's is the best I can imagine. I think somebody cracked a pilgrim joke. A few Ben Franklin fuck and fart proudly references. Got to love the literate crowd that breeds around Blum. A belch and a rollover. Some beer. Some wine. Some after dinner coffee. It was pure November cosmos, whimper, laugh tracks, and rust. I should have brought over one of my poinsettias to kick the table appeal up a notch, but it wasn't my call, and Blum doesn't take too kindly to suggestion, not mine anyway...

Later Epstein followed me back to the Dollhouse, hijacking my computer for the next couple of hours to web wonk before squeezing directions out of me in dogged pursuit of TRAX for hetero night, the ever evasive holiday lay, and mad rocker life at 29. I then doubled back over to Bob's for another slice of pie and a few purge scenes on the telly before yawning back out the door again, glad the holiday slurf was finally over, done with, and dutifully repackaged as recent past only a couple of crude snapshots can truly bring back to life. I should have insisted on a group fotoplasty, but in weakness of will I didn't.

I snag Sue from the airport tomorrow afternoon, early evening actually. Bob and Allie tie the gordian on December 5, Friday. Bob Dylan at the 9:30 Club later that evening. The following Monday I wobble into jury duty. Civilized manhood truly soaks up the free time. It's a good thing in the long term if I can fake having plenty of it, time that is, not civilized manhood. Maybe I've got that mixed up. Depends on which side of the clock you're standing behind and whose civilization we're fighting for...

GT

There's Nothing Straighter Than True Plumb, Bob

friendship-wars
The Friendship Wars
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Originally published Aug 19, 1997. Italics Steve Taylor, plain text mine.

Damn. I just clicked on an iMote page, and it is all twisted. Wrong graphics in the wrong places, and another graphic skewed. Gotta go investigate. Maybe Bob's right. My life ain't life. Maybe he'll let me join in his weekly WWII strategy board game, or watch his stockpile of Japanese anime videos. Now that's life. I know I'm just being petty here, but it really burns the bone that among friends and neighbors every choice one makes is shit, and Bob has always done that to me. My poetry is bad. My writing makes no sense. My web work is not life. Even after all the GT vs. SET fires belching in the belly, and that most recent flamewar certainly left scars, I can at least say that you have always encouraged me in my struggle to express my loneliness and insights through writing and creative images and with the technical additions of web producing, you've been my only true visitor. I don't know what that says about you, but thanks anyway. And again, congratulations on your new aspirations. You are indeed cock of the walk when it comes to nailing job interviews.

You are quite welcome. And thanks for letting me know. It does mean much to me to have some positive impact out there—and it is nice to keep in contact from here in the PA void. I'm glad that I now have had time to read, write (a bit, anyway), surf, relax...and actually think about what works, what matters, what the hell...I kept busy and manic enough in DC to keep myself from realizing how unhappy I was—AOL caught me on the downside for a while, so I just kept fighting at Howrey, thinking that I could make well-enough work into something great. Hah! Oh well, looking back on the last few jobs I had—ones for which I've been envied by more than one person, I see that I was fooling myself to ever accept them. I had forgotten that I could do more than be a lackey for underskilled, Peter Principle poster children who didn't care about the product but had just chosen a career and insisted on sticking with it without truly caring about what they were doing.

They simply become too easy too soon and don’t allow room for the type of growth and development that we need to keep breathing. iMote and Scenewash (and others projects of past and future) can give you that. I’m hoping that I will end up webmastering Fox Chase Cancer Center, and that the job will have enough challenges to keep me interested, honest, and sane. For now I wait for the call from Philly. Right now, I mow the lawn.
But each time I made the mistake of falling into jobs when I needed the money and was able to rationalize my way into accepting what I knew would wear out soon. Then I was able to add something to the job to make it seemingly great for a while. Then they didn't want a star, just a good team player. Well, I can be a good team player, but when I'm being asked to wash the uniforms and the team truly needs me in another position...enough sports metaphors...As I'm feeling some of that DC-bound bitterness resurfacing, let me bend this back to a less combative reality: I made some terrible judgement calls. But at the time, there weren't any better options I could have seen. I was too blinded by my defense mechanisms. And, even with the confidence I was often able to exude, for a period of time there, I didn't truly believe in myself and my abilities to do anything and do it damned well. I know that I can put together any web site, any magazine, any promotional campaign or technical budget. I just might have to work at it.

And that's what these McTech/McMedia jobs I've had have not given me (and would not give you or anyone else with vision and drive). They simply become too easy too soon and don't allow room for the type of growth and development that we need to keep breathing. iMote and Scenewash (and others projects of past and future) can give you that. I'm hoping that I will end up webmastering Fox Chase Cancer Center, and that the job will have enough challenges to keep me interested, honest, and sane. For now I wait for the call from Philly. Right now, I mow the lawn.

But now, I've gotta attend to those pesky HTML brats. Keep it clean, and the dirt will follow anyway. Busy with beaver and loaded for bear...strange how those epiphrases just jot themselves down along with the mustard and relish of a personality mirage. Lynn has not responded, although I certainly had no idea the phrase was anything but a toss-off. Tell me how it goes. I presume, it's like the "playing it by ear" and "that's my story and I'm stickin' to it" SET tune of the month. I can hear it already reverberating off the whispering pines of friendly Pennsylvanian platitudinal grace. Look forward to the update, but frankly, I think you and I are the only ones who "get" most of our poetic hucksterism. Occasionally Bob in good mood is generous with a Boblike compliment with adjectives like hip, post-modern, whacky, subterranean sprinkled in to authenticate a true Bob true grit compliment, and they certainly have increased over the years, but like Bracken, most often he's just a little quick to dismiss and a little slow to hammer out the dots, plumb the heights, and probe the depths but like all of us, prefers to hear his own voice than those of his neighbors.

GT

Those imps of HTML will need some reintroducing to me—it's been a while since I've actually dug into code. Gotta go back to the basics a bit—save that source, localize those graphics, and start
playing with other folks' designs. Tables, frames, imagemaps, CSS...it'll take me a while, but I'll get back there.

Peace. Love. Digital Neighbors.

SET

Background Check, Please

Light Unto The Nations
Light Unto The Nations
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Originally published on January 31, 1997

And the second phase of literary hiccups...

Yesterday over the telephone, I was drilled by an investigator doing a background check on Bob Blumstein who is some government clearance for a new job he is seeking. I imagine I did a decent enough job deflecting with humor the questions I felt uncomfortable answering for fear my take on truth would hamper Bob's ambitions. The one corner I got backed into concerned Bob's emotional status. I had no choice but to mention his diagnosis and bouts with chronic fatigue syndrome and the medication. I did not mention prozac by name, and the investigator was surprisingly soft on followup in this area. A few one liners I tossed around included:

Question: something along the lines of does Mr. Blumstein strike you as a solid neighbor, easily getting along with others...

GT response: "Well, we've disagreed on things every now and then, but from your own investigative prospective, I don't know whether this reflects poorly on Bob, or me."

Question: something along the lines of has Mr. Blumstein shown any signs of possible emotional breakdown or instability...

GT response: "Well, as I am not a trained psychologist, I certainly am not qualified or comfortable answering such questions with any sort of authoritative voice..."

Question: something along the lines of do I think Mr. Blumstein would be a good security risk...

Answer: "Mmm, again I know nothing about governments clearances except that Bob has occasionally mentioned in passing, of course without specific detail, other accesses and clearances he has won over the years in his job as an Air Force reservist, and I suppose other job hurdles in the past..."

I was asked maybe 40 questions, some overlapping in theme, but only the direct medical liability question led me to a response that I felt could possibly be held against him, although at the end of the interview the investigator apprised me of the Privacy Act of 1983, and how Bob could request a detailed report on this interview and would discover that I had given him favorable marks. But yes, of course this is what the investigator would say to me, so I wonder how much damage my candor and my obvious deflections (as opposed to a drone-like apotheosis) might have done to his chances of winning his clearance, should all Bob's other cronies not play the rat's game.

Overall, I was articulate and calculating, punching through with wordplays and jokes as well as honestly suggesting that Bob is as straight a Joe as I've known. I counted on forthrightness as opposed to monotonic one word responses as a plus. Bob had given Sue the chore of this interview, but she never returned the phonecall after the interviewer came to the house leaving a note I found when checking the mail that day.

I must have slept in flu lethargy straight through the knocking. On the phone, the investigator, after asking for Sue soon turned his attentions to me, and offered a choice of phone or face to face interview. After acknowledging my sickness and joking if he could bear with me, I accepted the challenge, and relieved Sue. She was grateful, and I think Bob would be as well. I believe, despite the one problem area, I executed a more than adequate defense of Bob's integrity.

Question: Have you known Mr. Blumstein to indulge in illicit drugs at any time?

GT response: "Bob has stayed emphatically clear of this sort of indulgence."

Question: Have you known Mr. Blumstein to have a problem with alcohol?

GT response: "Bob is somewhat of a beer connaisseur. He brews his own beer as a devoted hobbyist, but I certainly would not characterize Bob as a problem drinker."

Question: something along the lines of do I think Mr. Blumstein is an honest man, a man of integrity...

GT response: "To tell you the truth sir, Bob is as honest a person as I know, his integrity impeccable. We joke and call ourselves the radical middle, a return to sanity.

And on and on...

Enjoy the rest of the Bracken as biographer commentary. And let me know what you know of these top secret drills. They certainly breed paranoia and intimately define the faith of friendship in terms I know I must address in "the ouster of Tim" affair, so catch ya later...

GT

Any Cracking Due To The Heavy Snows

The Croyden Affair
The Croyden Affair
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Date: Thu Mar 28, 1996 7:24:35 AM America/New_York

"...profane my domain" Har har har! That's rich! Elizabeth started bad-mouthing Big Al over the mic at his bar on Columbia Road. She was ranting while on the portable phone with him, airing her dirty linen over the P.A. system, we heard screams outside, whipped the camcorder around, Big Al had Elizabeth in a choke hold from behind, a bear-hug. The cops came, Elizabeth wants to sue, I just returned from small claims court, my lawsuit is coming along fine. It's like they say at BZT "Sue Thy neighbor!" (registered trademark, BZT Industries, used by permission). —Tom Howell

Hey Bob, our illustrious neighbor, did your walls suffer any cracking due to the heavy snows this year? We sustained minor runs in the bedroom plaster along the partition where the column we installed props up the crossbeam opus the library so proudly rooted inspires, and also in the dining room, a near perfectly spent straight line approximately one and a quarter inch to the right (east) of a wallpaper joint streaks a crack the full height of the wall, splitting open the wallpaper quite nicely as if it were a planned joint. The damage however is merely cosmetic and since our "never mind the bollocks" indoctrination we don't care, we find it only slightly irritating. I suppose in a counting our blessings way we are lucky, very lucky. Some buildings collapsed under the weight of two feet. Of snow.

Ah...spring, seems so oddball, heavenly even, some six months after the impressionistic post-nickeldog renovations, to randomly gaze out into the backyard hubris and spy large tufts of greener than green grass, a few choice flowers, a stray but environmentally harmless cat, and a fence that just won't quit articulating rumors of a vestal nature about the subsequent rise and fall of my character. Go figure. It's a shipwrecked idea, but I enjoy my delusions of mediocrity.

You don't know any of the precious folk save the writer himself, in that forwarded piece (Oh yeah, Big Al, you know Big Al) but I just thought I'd rankle your pieces of mind with a few choice words Tom inspired. Oh yes, there is the Thomas Jeff Howellnyms, whom you know, a fair piece of shoddy workmanship himself, or just another snow job in today's vernacular. Anywaze, have a goody too shoes afternoon. You deserve it, and please, just this one favor, for the glory of expatriate Pennsylvanians everywhere, flash off a quick glance at the wicked little office artchik in your best Aqualung resolve just once for me. Whatever else you undoubtedly launch you should claim as your own.

GT