PHILADELPHIA UNDER SIEGE!

Prologue: This was written in the year 2000 during the Republican National Convention. My knowledge and concern of social issues has changed greatly since then. I do, however, believe this prose to speak of the unfortunate disconnect that existed between those groups who were fighting for social change against the well organized neo-con death cult that has now seized our country and the world. Today I would more tip my hat in gratitude toward those brave enough to speak loudly for what is right than view them through the eyes of the tired office worker I was in 2000. Now on to: PHILADELPHIA UNDER SIEGE: The Great Show at City Hall At last they arrive, charging in upon many a mighty steed, with hoisted banners and raised fists they march on to "stir the shit storm" and create general pandemonium and havoc during the Republican National Convention. I refer to the protesters, rabble-rousers and assortment of other mountebanks that have set up temporary camp around City Hall in Philadelphia. These charlatans are the queerest of individuals I have ever witnessed. There was the anti-abortion group, replete with images upon posters of aborted fetuses, which seemed to offend PETA and other animal rights activists because of their close resemblance to red meat. Another group went about wearing costumes constructed of cardboard that appeared as bastardized versions of deer or moose. A convertible Mustang was driving around and within it was a bizarre trio of foppish persons. They managed to meander through the cadre of protesters, with two people, sitting upon the top of the back seat, wearing what appeared to be Teletubbies regalia, or maybe they were pink rabbits. In the air was a dreadful cacophony as provided by a variety of brusque, pear shaped women, excuse me, womyn, shouting their grievances with the benefit of megaphones. Co-existing was the generous competition of sound provided by the police vehicles circling this "encampment". The Philadelphia police provided many prison buses to help "motivate" the crowd to be peaceful. What the presence of the buses and vans did accomplish, however, was the abhorrent frustration of vehicular and pedestrian traffic. The odors in the air were most unpleasant. There was the no-so-subtle combination of body odor provided by many protesters and assembled vagrants; the carbon monoxide being spewed from the aforementioned vehicles; the sewers boiling over in the summer heat; and, as if to add spice to my olfactory barrage, the fecal matter of the dozens of horses of the mounted police. This gathering, not being enough to satisfy the city's desire to create a quandary of a business day, were greeted by Wawa foods. They were kind enough to be offering pieces of a free hoagie that was baking in the sun - this was yet another odor to contend with. I cannot imaging anything more appalling than the thought of warm mayonnaise on a multi-foot long sandwich with the benefit of solar heating. The pigs were definitely at the trough, however, grasping every tiny morsel of the fetid, grotesque amalgam of fatty, sodium-rich meats; condiments, and bread. The vendor was kind enough to provide many employees to serve their sordid fare. The employees became a bit impatient, or perhaps frightened, and began casting bags of chips and soft pretzels into the crowd. Fortunately they had the sense to not cast about mustard packs. Although I do believe that some of the PETA folks absconded with the ketchup supply to throw upon anyone partaking of the hoagie, or worse, wearing an animal product. I am seated in a cab during this grand scene. My cab has been motionless for several minutes and my fare keeps rising. The police have now decided to drive their vehicles around the crowd in a circular formation, as if vultures seeking their prey. This display of vehicular prowess and police enforcement has caused and even great traffic snarl, which I fear shall not end upon my departure from Philadelphia this evening. Finally, in frustration, I present the driver his fare, plus a modest tip, and decide to alight immediately and continue my journey on foot. I regretted this decision since the humidity and traffic were unbearable. I nevertheless made it back to the office with my sanity intact. I am back at the office now. The man who delivers the FedEx packages has just deposited his cartage and is telling me about the protesters' migration south along Broad Street. They are marching, still with their fists and banners held high on their way to the First Union Center, where the Republicans have been engaged in their political machinations. One can only imagine the outcome of the events today. Thousands of tired, forlorn protectors off all that is politically correct will be home, or unfortunately incarcerated, feeling a sense of accomplishment. While back in the city, the haughty and well-fed Republicans settle down for an after dinner cognac and a cigar. The peace is again restored and Philadelphia can rest for another evening. Then, there's always tomorrow.

Confessions of a Wholesale Club (Food) Junkie

    "I stand alone, I am the cheese." This is my muse as I stand in BJ's Wholesale Club sizing up the two-pound smoked Gouda and one-and-a-half-pound block of feta with basil and sun-dried tomato while I toss them into the large, red, plastic shopping cart alongside the three-pound bleu cheese; a ten-pound bag of Cat Chow and a twenty-pound tub of kitty litter. 

    There is at home just my partner, my cat, and I, yet I find it impossible to resist the lure of shopping in bulk. In my freezer at home are two five-pound whole chickens, a nine-pound duck, and several multi-pound hunks of porcine flesh from my previous trip here just five days hence.

    I think to myself, while placing the thirty-six-roll pack of toilet tissue in the cart, that I should stock up on some bacon and maybe a leg of lamb. En route to the meat section of this mammoth shopping Mecca, I pass and collect several eight-pack cartons of various canned vegetables and soups, several three-pack sets of my favorite pasta sauces, and eight pounds of pasta. This is naturally followed by a twenty-ounce container of olive oil. The three-pound bag of "Hint of Lime" tortilla chips wouldn't be complete without the twenty-four-ounce jars of both salsa and queso dip.

    I have no plans for any of these purchases, but find it hard, nay impossible, to resist such temptation. Maybe, I think to myself, I may decide to have a party and make a mental note to stop at the nearby wine shop for a few cases of wine. 

    I arrive at the meat section, my overloaded cart straining against the one uncooperative wheel that drags aggressively along the linoleum floor. I take note of the aisles I've passed along the way for other things I may need. Standing among the shrink-wrapped carnage I gaze with wonder and gluttonous admiration at the carnivorous splendor that lies before me. Like a ravenous jackal, and with little thought to unpaid bills at home, I toss a twelve-pound pack of assorted cuts of beef into the cart along with a five-pound leg of lamb, six pounds of bacon, and a seven-pound goose I think I'd like to prepare someday. 

    I've now left my earthly body and am envisioning the great fete I will prepare for my friends. My abode will be well decorated with all the gourmet accouterments, and a fine collection of classical music will set the mood. I shall prepare a complete brunch, with champagne (I add this to my liquor store list). I'll need assorted mustards and crackers; fruits and bread; pate and so much more that I add to the list. Fortunately, I can procure these, en masse, right here at BJ's along with the two-pound sharp aged Wisconsin cheddar and one-pound wedge of Stilton I meant to pick up earlier. A two-pound container of mixed nuts and also some pistachios will be well received. They find their home next to the eight-pack of imported mustard already in the cart. 

    I see myself raising my glass in a toast to my good friends, for their long life, good health, and, most of all, hearty appetites. I urge all my attendees to enjoy the bountiful feast that has been prepared in their honor. Truthfully, I'm not certain when I'll have such a soiree as most of my friends are on the busiest of schedules, and I have a lengthy commute to and from work, which affords me little time to prepare the things I love so much to buy, but I just know I shall, someday. 

    In the end, I present my goods upon the black, sticky, rubber conveyor belt and pay the three hundred plus dollars to the cashier. Struggling with my provisions to my car, I stuff the trunk and back seat with my bounty, being careful to leave room for the spirits that I shall purchase on the way home. 

    Upon arrival at my abode, my partner spends several minutes shaking his head in disbelief. I, in turn, spend the next thirty minutes rearranging the refrigerator and kitchen cabinets to accommodate the edible newcomers. Reluctantly, I must discard my last journey's supply of uneaten veggie chips, some freezer-burned Italian sausage, an assortment of soggy herbs and vegetables; and some various cheese products which have come to resemble a medical testing laboratory. 

    My freezer is packed to capacity as I separate my meat purchases into smaller freezer storage bags, I wonder how it will all fit. Knowing I cannot possibly pack all my purchases in the proper kitchen receptacles, I phone a friend and offer him some of my food bounties, informing him I shall stop by his place for a visit after I'm finished unpacking. He tells me he needs to go to Target and then Home Depot and I agree to drive us there. I am looking forward to it since I need to pick up a few things. TRUE STORY