Sunday, September 11, 2005

saturdy of buddy don: fire dept fund fer katrina releaf

yesterdy mornin miz bd gut together a sack of grossries that we woodnt never be able to eat on a counta me havin migraines whenever i eat sartin thangs, witch msg mite could be the wurst. we had us sum cans of bahrs landin soups, witch they wuz yummy but dangerus n sum other thangs we could git more of ifn we needed to. she also went scroungin fer rolls of quarters, witch she found a slew of em i never even knew we had.

reason fer all that gathern wuz sos we could go down to the hoboken firemans museeum n give it to em fer heppin out them folks that gut lef or chose to stay behind in the hurricane n flood.

fer days we had bin a'readin stories bout katrina n who is to blame n wundrin how kin we say were reddy? tiz obveeus we aint n tiz hard to tell ifn thays a nuff money fer gittin reddy.

today thays a grate articull in the dc post bout how we cum to be unreddy fer katrina, step by step eggsplainayshun of how it happend ... or dint happen. taint over neethur. with all them folks a'moovin lack thar a'doon, minny places is a'gone change.

me ni miz bd wuz reddy fer a change frum all that news, so we up n lef sos we could at lease do sum lil sumthin.

whenever we gut thar them firemen wuz happy to see us n tole us whar to putt our grossries n money. we ast could we take sum pitchers, witch they seemed rite proud that we wood wonta. we tuck a few pitchers of all the piles of stuff -- twuz jes 10 am, but they wuz alreddy runnin outta room.

i ast em could i git sum pitchers inside n that shore pleased this one feller name of joseph t kennedy to whar he invited us in. furst thang we seen wuz this ole fashun fire injun ...

joseph t kennedy tuck us upstairs to see the hall whar them firefiters, retired or awurkin, meets. joseph t. kennedy wuz retired after 32 years. his daddy wuz on the job fer 33 years, witch this heres a pitcher of a pitcher of his daddy ...

he gut to talkin to miz bd bout bein a fireman n bein part of the romeo club, witch romeo means Retired Ole Men Eatin Out. he tole er bout taps. thar mascot fer 18 years n whut a dog he wuz n how sad everbidy wuz whenever he passd. i wanderd round takin pitchers. this here pitcher of marty sinatra n his son wuz a wee sprize ...

after that me n miz bd went over to man hattan, whar i tuck a slew of good pitchers over in washington square park on our way over to astor place to revue sum whisky stocks. we coulndt pass up sum laphroaig 10 year fer $32.99.

later on we went out into the frunt yard of our bilden, witch now that we herd them morgidge folks had 'plugged all our numbers in' n sussed out how we wuz 'in the green' n we could maybe even 'go to close' within 30 days, now that we dun herd all that, the frunt of the bilden seems kindly lack our frunt yard. we wonted to try takin sum pitchers of the moon agin. heres bout as good as we kin do with whut we know so far ...

we wuz bout to go back upstairs whenever miz bd noticed sum huge lites in the sky. turnt out to be part of the 9/11 memoryall, twin beams, thick blue beams of lite, shinin whar them towers used to stand, with folks watchin em n havin em a weddin party in the dark (ye kin barely see em ifn ye look at the pitcher close), out on the pier with the ferry flashin by ...

tiz four years now since we wuz attackd by osama bin laden. we dint git im. not whenever he wuz in tora bora, witch furst the gummint lied bout it (habit its gut) even tho twuz true n we really did lose im jes lack john kerry sed in that deebate on a counta outsourcin the job.

now osama is moren a man ... hes dun a caws with ideology. ifn ye wonta take a look at whut were really up agin, read this here articull name of Taking Stock of the Forever War by mark danner in the new york times magazine. taint purty, but tiz a damn site bettern mos innythang else thats dun been writ on the global war on terror.

taint over by a long shot. the signs is everwhar. so what ye a'gone do?

how bout we donate a lil time or money to the red cross? or give away sum grossries n whutever money we kin spare?

or maybe watch them lites out on the pier?

on a counta how life goes on.

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