Neighborhood #15 (N 10th St. or Why We Are Not Christians)

We Heart You Patrick Fitzgerald

BROOKLYN IN THE HOUSE!

Happy Fitzukkah Too

'Twas the night before Fitzmas, and all through the nation
Dems hit "refresh" on their blogs with elation!
On Huffpo! On Juan Cole! On, John Aravosis!
Now must check DailyKos for the Fitzmas prognosis!
Weeks ago Bush proclaimed with a smirk and a nudge
"Why, ah think my lawyer would make a fine judge!"
Alas, all the wingnuts then made him decline her
And now she's got time to wash off her eyeliner.
But don't get your hopes up, because we all know
Although karma declares you should reap what you sow:
And Fitz, Mr. Cheney's got reasons to fear ya
But don't be surprised when we start bombing Syria.

Felonious Junk

Lillet and I are felons. We have been for a long time, really. We've both bought, sold, and used plenty of narcotics. We've both been tax evaders. I've committed grand larceny and Lillet has been to jail as an abettor to prostitution. Scouts we may not be, but I'd never really thought of the two of us as criminals until recently, when we started stealing mail.

We steal mail from our long-suffering, 78 year-old landlord, Mr. Kunde, who lives above us. Until last week we intercepted only two kinds of mail. One kind is junk mail addressed to his wife, who died of a brain tumor a few years ago. We've seen the look on his face when he retrieves the Visa pre-approvals and Cingular come-ons addressed to her, and Lillet and I simply cannot bear to see his mourning churned by mundane crap like this.

The other sort of mail we steal is that sent by the Church of Scientology. Some 20 years ago Mr. Kunde's eldest son was briefly sucked into their orbit. He's had nothing to do with them since, but almost daily through our mail slot come donation requests and science fiction newsletters. Even with two decades passed such mail enrages Mr. Kunde nearly to apoplexy. A 78 year-old widower doesn't need this. And no one needs the junk mail of his that we recycle.

Last week, for the first time, we stole a piece of mail that did not fall into one of these two categories. Mr. Kunde is, we gather, a Republican. He receives lots of political literature from the likes of Alan Keyes, and we've never touched any of this. But on the very day he surrendered himself to the police, a large envelope arrived from Tom DeLay, and we couldn't resist.

What a disappointment: liberals have a stranglehold on our nation's college campuses! We'd been hoping for photographs of Hillary chomping some rug. Something exciting, or at least novel. All I learned from this package is that Mr. DeLay must own a great deal of Georgia Pacific stock, as the letter's 1,200 words are spread out over seven pages.

Was it, we wonder, those darn liberals who expelled young Tom from Baylor University for drinking?

Wedding Album

Views of and from our wedding.

Just Married!

Last night was Trey's and my official wedding.

It was perfect.

Even though or perhaps because our photographer was in the emergency room and we had to find someone else.

Even though or because I got my period the minute before I stepped into my dress.

Even though or because it rained and the car with me and half my family in it was 30 minutes late because the driver was fumbling around residential areas of Brooklyn.

It was perfect.

My sister declared it " the salve for our family's wounds."

My mother and her sister, who works as a butcher and came from Northern California despite her fear of flying, were there.

People who were strangers prior made friends and went out to dinner!

Two of my friends hooked up and went home together!

Everyone danced!

A couple had sex in the bathroom!

My friend Walter shared his Kitty Carlisle obsession with Trey's ex-showgirl grandmother, and now he and his boyfriend have a double date with Trey and I to take her out for serious Chinese food in Flushing!

Long-simmering crushes were confessed!

Long-suppurating tensions were released!

And even the bartender told us he loved the ceremony. The CEREMONY! No one EVER talks about the ceremony. But everyone really sincerely seemed happy and moved by it.

And I danced with and without shoes.

And Trey and I waltzed and didn't fuck up.

And I realized I could think of nothing more valuable, as I spoke with every person there, of just making time to spend time with these people for the rest of my life, and that would be an honorable and beautiful life.

And do you know what was so magical?

Most of our wedding was paid for with cash we put into a coffee can in our kitchen.

Thousands of dollars grew from ten here, a hundred there. And in our crooked little kitchen we put money in a Bustelo can and it turned into the most elegant shimmering party ever, with views of the Manhattan Bridge and dancing and happiness. I kept telling Trey I felt like Cinderella, but when Cinderella is so sad and can't go to the ball and all the forest animals make her a dress. And all our friends helped us out so much. Because they are just genuinely generous and nice!

But the best thing was realizing, as I got made-up and coiffed and fussed over and photographed by my family pre-wedding, that there was one thing I thought the most:

I missed Trey so much and just couldn't wait to see him and talk with him again.

And that makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

Love,

Lillet

The Origin of Specious

Having read some of the ID-iots out there in the blogosphere's accounts of the Dover trial and how the "Darwinists" are supposedly doomed, I decided to take a look at the transcripts myself.

So far, I have to say Dr. Miller is kicking some serious ass. It's worth reading just for his lucid and elegant descriptions of biological processes and what constitutes science. And he hardly exhibits the "vitriol" that Douglas Kern and Jonathan Witt attribute to those who call a neo-creationist spade a neo-creationist spade. But then, there are people out there who thought that Bush did a good job in the debates.

Read the transcripts at the ACLU site!

Wednesday Knitting Blog

You probably are not aware of the thousands of e-mails I receive weekly that go something like this:

Dear Lillet,

We really love your blog entries, especially how you get really mad and use all caps a lot and swear and use exclamation points!

But how come you don't knit like all those cool blogger girls?

Well LOOK OUT BLOGOSPHERE!! because there is a NEW KNITTER in TOWN!!! FUCK YEAH!!

Feast your envious eyes on the Calin-Genou!

I knitted this particular Calin-Genou on some pointy long beige needles with some pink yarn. Ooh la la! Look out, hipster girls!

Ashbloem, let me know if you'd like me to e-mail you the pattern — it's in French!

Unreal!

I am at work, watching the flat panel screen, surfing in order to find and write down all the news channels for the temp who will be filling in for me the week before our wedding.

I come up on channel 60, good old FOX NEWS! But whoa!! Guess what they are covering?

The New York Subway Terror Threat! And guess which subway station they are filming as a primary target?

That's right! Mine! 47-50 Rockefeller Center!

Any minute now my mom is going to forward me a CBS News e-mail about the terror threat. As a helpful tip. As if she's telling me that clear nailpolish stops pantyhose runs. As if I don't worry about it every single day!

And she means well, but I just want to shake her to pieces and scream "YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME AND PROTECT ME BECAUSE YOU ARE MY MOTHER BUT YOU VOTED FOR THAT ASSHOLE TWICE AND THAT PRETTY MUCH VITIATES YOUR CLAIMS OF CARING, NOW DOESN'T IT! IF I DIE IN THE SUBWAY, THE SUBWAY I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO TAKE DUE TO ECONOMIC NECESSITY EVERY SINGLE DAY, I'M GOING TO BLAME YOU!"

Right On!

What galls me most about the whole "Intelligent Design" nonsense is how fundamentally DISHONEST its advocates are, whether they admit it to themselves or not. Especially the way in which they like to hem and haw that "ID isn't Christian Creationism because it doesn't specify a designer.." GIVE ME A BREAK. I do not believe for one second that ANYONE at the Discovery Institute would openly embrace Gaia and Ouranos as the Intelligent Designers, or Vishnu.

This news story made me very happy today. Except for the sad fact that this has been obvious from the beginning, and should not even require comment.

Besides, there's only room for one kind of ID in this pantheist's life!

Neighborhood #13.1 (Change of Season)