You Released It

Please tell me you have thought about what happens to the things you crap out of your intestines or release out of your bladder? This is no shy subject. People shit. You should be letting go of that stuff at least once a day, at least. Of course urination should happen a bit more frequently than that right? Yes. Give a good count every time you flush. What the hell, take note of what you flush too and how many gallons of potable water you just fouled? Look at that toilet of yours, what a pal! It deals with all this stuff. Really though, your toilet is like a messenger. It takes your “message” and delivers it to your home or apartment’s lateral line. This lateral line leads to the public sewer pipe. Sewer pipes can run on average from 12inches to 72inches in diameter. As more and more of these sewer lines meet up they can reach a size that would allow an elephant to walk through or better yet two lanes of traffic of small to average size cars.

Where are these pipes all heading with you and yours flushes? They’re heading down hill to take advantage of gravity to the Sewer Treatment Plant. This fine city of ours has 3 Water Pollution Control Plants. All of your stuff ends up at one of these 3 plants. Now, if you’re thinking “Wow I can’t believe my log made it to South Philly!” You are only partly correct. Really that log blew to bits long ago probably not far from you house. 90% of the sewage in the pipes is water. That is because these pipes collect all the waste from your toilet, sinks, showers, dishwashers, washing machine, and in some areas the neighborhoods stormwater too. That is a lot of water. Plus, the medium of your urine is water too. Water is in your stool even.

Okay, now I have got you thinking about what you just did and where it just went. The plants that it is sent to are manned plants, meaning someone deals with the operating and maintenance of the poo factory. Three to ten hours later, your dispersed corn-laden excretion arrives with that of your neighbors. Here it is going to be treated.

Next Installment: how your crap is treated, and Eli’s favorite—treasures one finds at the poo plant.

Philadelph-eli on Vacation!

Saddly, I didn't actually get to go anywhere, but my drawings did. I'm not sure how many of you have ever heard of the lovely town of Saugatuck. It sits on the western coast of Lake Michigan on Kalamazoo Lake. During the winter it's a sleepy little art town. Everyone knows everyone else and they eat at places like the Calico Kitchen where there really are frilly waitress uniforms and checked tableclothes and it's not meant to be ironic. During the summer, however, it blows up. People come up from Chicago and park their boats in the harbor. It also hosts a "Family Week for queer folks and their family making it sort of the Provincetown of the Mid-West.

My parents belong to an art collective their where they sell their jewelry and woodturned bowls. In an effort to maybe make a little money off this art degree I turned my sights to some Saugatuck landmarks and sent the drawings to the collective. If you're in the area check them out!

A brief note about Philly Politics, however late it may be...

I wouldn't as a general rule publish the same post on both this blog and my other blog body in progress but seeing as this applied to both gender and PA politics it seemed appropriate. Sorry if it also seems like over kill.

From "The Onion"

Grandmother Proud To Have Lived Long Enough To See First Viable Female Candidate Torn

PEORIA, IL—Seventy-six-year-old grandmother Anita Graney told reporters Monday that she was "overwhelmed with pride" for having lived to see the first viable female presidential candidate in the nation's history so successfully run into the ground by vicious media attacks and hubristic, arrogant miscalculations. "Hillary [Clinton] showed America that a woman can be politically destroyed just as completely and heartbreakingly as any man," said Graney, a lifelong feminist. "What an amazing example for today's young women who aspire to fail spectacularly at the highest levels." Graney expressed hope that one of her granddaughters might someday be the first woman to get utterly eviscerated in a nationwide general election.

The Primaries are finally over. They have been over in Pennsylvania for some months. Certainly, most are thrilled that it’s over, but I can’t help but feel disappointed at the outcome. This has nothing to do with the potential abilities of Senator Obama. In fact, during the Pennsylvania Primary I’ll be the first to admit that I found his advertisements a bit intoxicating. I found his speeches inspiring when often times I found Clinton’s speeches would somehow make me cringe. Cringe because she sounds annoying, cringe because she sounds petty, cringe because I know she didn’t really mean it that way. She’s like a really old, dear friend that you try to introduce to your new “cool” group of friends and you keep feeling the need to apologize for her.

Still, in spite of all this cringing I still believe that she is the better candidate. I’ve long believed that the best presidents are also probably the worst campaigners. By this same token, some of the best campaigners make really awful presidents. George W. is a prime example of this. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am completely confident that Obama will perform better than W., but I’m also confident that most anyone could perform better than W.

I’ve discussed this campaign a lot with my mom, a strong, smart second wave feminist, and found that we both share this somewhat surprising intense feeling of sadness. What I fail to understand is how she got pegged as “the Washington machine” and he became this voice of inspiration. I remember listening to the Slate Political Gabfest and hearing them talk about the Super Delegates. This was just before the PA primaries and everyone was talking about how maybe, just maybe, if Hillary won by a big enough margin then maybe, just maybe the Super Delegates would decide she was the better candidate and give her the push she needed to get the nomination. As this conversation wore on Emily Bazelon (who always sounded to me like she really liked Hillary, but was embarrassed to say so) said that she just thought it would be a very bad political move for these Super Delegates to essentially take the nomination away from “the first viable African American candidate” and give it to Clinton.

Maybe I was sleeping for a few years, but when have we ever had a viable female candidate? When did the first woman president become less important than the first black male president? Clinton may have been involved in politics for a very long time, but I happen to think that can be a good thing. She spent her entire campaign on the defensive and the press counted her a looser before she even had a chance to play. All her supporters seemed to melt away as she no longer looked like the “cool” candidate, with only Tom Brokaw coming to her defense. Even just the fact that she is referred to by her first name and Obama by his last seems to imply some subtle underlying sexism.

Hillary Clinton came to Pennsylvania. She sent her daughter to Woody’s (a local gay bar) while Obama called the most famous lesbian he knew (Melissa Etheridge) and had her call in. Clinton may not always connect with the people, but at least she tried to do it in person. Obama settles for flashy TV adds and had Shepard Fairy make inspiring posters, allowing the "cool kids" to make his case with him. I know I sound angry, and I am. I don’t mean to digress. I get it. She lost. Obama won. I know I’ll vote for him come November considering the alternative, but I just can’t wrap my heart around being an Obama supporter just yet. As a final thought I just want you to ask yourself why being against Barak Obama or even simply for Hillary Clinton made you a secret racist or working class stoop while everyone could freely rail on Hillary Clinton’s every move and no one was accused of being a raging sexist. From The Chicago Tribune’s June 25 article Devil in a pantsuit or the demonization of Hillary Clinton

When the doctor checks to see if the patient is still breathing, it's disgust, not compassion, that leaks out between his syllables: "You couldn't kill her with an ax," he sneers.That patient—the wide-hipped, unwieldy woman at the heart of Dorothy Parker's 1929 short story "Big Blonde"—is a familiar image in books, films, songs, comic books, TV series, video games and, now, politics: The woman as monster. The over-large, over-ambitious, overbearing creature who irritates everybody, the death-defying witch who just won't go away—and who therefore must be destroyed.She's a vampire, a zombie, an alien, a werewolf, a psychopath, a serial killer. She's Alex, the Glenn Close character in "Fatal Attraction" (1987), who ... keeps ... on ... coming. She's the looming, clutching, stifling mother or wife or girlfriend in a Philip Roth novel. (Which novel? Take your pick.) She's the eerie, outlandish creature in the Sylvia Plath poem "Lady Lazarus" (1965), who proclaims, "Out of the ash / I rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air." She's the vengeful giantess in the 1958 film "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman."

It’s the acceptability of this rage that makes me the saddest. The complacence when Chris Matthews refers to Clinton as a she devil makes me furious. Perhaps the underlying rage has the same source for us both. You see, Clinton, to me, does not seem like a she-devil. She seems like a smart, compassionate, caring, assertive woman. She reminds me of my Mom.

The New Post...

I don't know how many of you ever made it to my dearly beloved and now departed gay bar The Post. It was a little dungeon of drunken iniquity in a dark alleyway just off Rittenhouse Square. You felt like you needed a password to get in, but once you were inside you were greeted by the nicest, most friendly bartender in the world--Jimmy, known in some circles as Mr. Northeast Leather. This man loved Anna and I from the minuted we entered. He even bought me dinner the night Anna left me to go visit her mom. It was the first time we'd been apart. We celebrated our 6month-aversary there. We celebrated birthdays there. I had an entire shrimp platter spilled on me one New Years Eve. It was an unlikely venue for me to feel so at home, but if you have ever gone to Sisters you will know exactly why I loved the Post. It was everything Sisters wasn't. The rafters were decorated with stuffed teddy bears sucking each other off, there were Drawing 101 gesture drawings of naked men on the wall, and in the back a second bar with the most disinterested male strippers I'd ever seen swaying back and forth to gay dance music. Still, i loved it. Then the owner was caught with a pile of Meth in the back room and The Post was no more.

Flash back to another dream of mine--to open a lesbian bar that doesn't suck. It would be just like The Post but without the strippers. It would have better beer on tap, a small dance floor and Patsy Cline in the jukebox and ladies could slow dance with their butches. I was really into Stone Butch Blues at the time. Well, it seems two lovely ladies have stolen my idea, not that i can really claim it that much. I'm sure it was a popular thought (again, visit Sisters and you'll know why) but still, it never seemed like it was going to happen, until now. Stir has just opened inside the former Post. It doesn't look at all like what i had envisioned for my lovely lesbian bar. In fact, from the pictures it's hard to tell that it was ever The Post. Still, I'm thrilled to know that the space is being used in a queer way and that there will at least be lesbians slow dancing somewhere in the building. Check it out. 1705 Chancellor St. (a dark ally just south of Walnut Street)

Music for the week

It is hot as sin this week. It's gym sweat hot just walking the dog. Welcome to what will hopefully be a weekly music posting.

I need Satisfaction.

I don't care for the Rolling Stones.

Below is a list of preferred Satisfaction tracks:

I Can't Get No Satisfaction, Thank God*- The Softies (from It's Love)
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction- Cat Power (from the Covers Record)
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction- Devo (from Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!)
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction- Otis Redding (from The Definitive Collection)
Satisfaction*- Eve (from Eve-Olution)

*aren't versions of the classic song but reference directly.

A band I never thought I'd care about post highschool: Rage Against the Machine.

This is especially after the roof party that neighbors threw a few years ago when we lived in West Philly. It was on the roof of our apartment building. They had a D.J. and a Rage cover band. The party went on til at least 3 am and I called the police at least 3 times. A hot Memorial day weekend and the a.c. was broken. We laid in bed forced to listen to Bulls on Parade and screaming party goers running up and down the fire escape across the court yard from our bedroom window.

Even so, I started listening to their first album again a few months back (one of the few benefits of Ipod shuffle and my absurd need to digitally catalog every album I own, even if never to listen). Their self titled debut holds up- day and night 100% better then the bullshit bands they unfortunately inspired, Limp Biscuit or Korn or Linkin Park, etc.

The lyrics leave a bizarre sense of history repeating. The music doesn't let you go from beginning to end. It's kinda great and I'm shocked- only based on the way distance can make one's taste red faced.

Two sentence show review: M.I.A at the Armory, June 5th, Philadelphia

M.I.A. was high energy- a great performer and entertainer. The sound at the Armory was awful- seriously the worst sound I've heard at a show and I've been to some shitty basement/garage/backyard shows in my day.

Current favorite Mountain Goats song: From TG&Y.

"...hang on to your dreams 'til someone beats them out of you."

(full lyrics here)

Until next week y'all.

-R.J.

Baked Goodness, or why i missed the bus twice this morning

I know I've blogged about Potito's (1614 Ritner Street) and how amazing they are, but it stands to be repeated. Upon missing the first #2 bus this morning I decided a danish would make me feel much better. I walked south on 16th and before I even rounded the corner onto Ritner I could smell the baked lovliness. I got two danishes--cheese and cherry. The cherry was better, but what I really wanted was a danish with both cherry and cheese. I think I need to become more of a regular however before I can begin making suggestions.

I then looked down 16th again and saw that no bus was coming so I decided to purchase something for lunch as well. I went over to Caccia's Bakery for a spinach stromboli. The bread is fresh and the fillings are amazing. Quite honestly, it's the best bread in the city and I don't take that lightly. Another fabulous option I considered is a mixed pizza. For about $10 you can pick from a variety of pizza types and create your own pizza. You get 12 slices in all and they all will be delicous.

I left just in time to see the bus headed up the block. I considered going into the italian specialty store that's right on the corner of 16th and Ritner, but I didn't want to push my luck.