Two different trains I took this morning were delayed due to sick passengers. I like to think it was the same guy both times. At Marcy Ave, he was all like "Whoa I'm not gonna make it," but when the EMS guys arrived, he was all like, "You know what, I'm fine, I'll be okay." He switched to a 4 train just before I got to City Hall, and just when he seemed about to recover, he felt the icy grip of death upon him, causing my train to jerk to a stop and make the standees all pile into each other.

Aside from sudden cardiac arrest, what other ailments could a person suffer in which they were well enough to get on the damn train in the first place, only to be stricken en transit. The other day there was a guy on the train who was dabbing a rotation of napkins against a large bloody wound on the side of his head (head wounds bleed a lot). If this guy could make it uptown without interrupting train service, what the hell are these other wimps complaining about?

Labels: Health, Mass Transit

You remember that Kurt Vonnegut story, "Harrison Bergeron"? It's the overly-pointed tale of life in the not-too-distant-future when the government makes every equal, not just legally but physically. So everybody has actual devices implanted on their bodies to reign in their innate abilities so everyone is no better than the weakest link in the chain. In this case, it's the mom character, who has no devices at all. Anyway the story is like junior high-grade pedantry about how conformity is bad and how we shouldn't let our leaders legislate too much of our lives, yahyah yah.

I bring this story up because of the father character, he has a little radio embedded in his brain that sends out a piercing tone every so often, "to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains." The noise is just distracting enough to make him lose his train of thought. You see, for the past few weeks they have been demolishing the building next door to our office. There is much drilling, much hammering, some exploding. I'm supposed to be working on Important Business Work here, but the constant pounding is making it hard to think straight.

So I'm thinking of the dad in the story, how he can't remember what he's thinking out after a few minutes; that's what it's like in here. I am frustrated and antsy, but have no idea what to do about it. The simplest tasks are hard to bring to fruition, and I find myself looking forward to the lunch hour, if only to have a reason to get outside the building for a few minutes.

Yet I also feel oddly elated. Outside of the annoyance of the noise, nothing phases me too much. I can't remember the things that are supposed to be worrying me for more than a minute at a time, so consequently I don't feel burdened by them. I am dimly aware that this is an artificial state and that once away from the sound of the piledrivers all my daily worries will come home to roost (most likely as I try to fall asleep). But for the moment I take comfort in the fact that all this noise is dumbing me down enough to feel rather happy.

I think I might get another credit card!

Labels: Funny to Me, Job, Office

Damn. I knew they'd catch up with us sooner or later. For years, New York State has tried to get us to pony up nonexistent sales tax for stuff we buy online. There's a line in the tax return that asks you to estimate the total amount of "unpaid" sales tax for anything and everything you've bought out of state that you have in your possession here. From the first year they put this in the tax form, I momentarily fretted over it, before chuckling and ignoring it, which I've done every year since. Chuckling to oneself is good for you!

So now comes the news that the State has passed a law forcing online retailers to charge sales tax on every NY-based purchase, even if they don't have a physical presence here. This totally defeats the purpose of buying stuff online, except for the fact that stuff gets delivered right to your house/office. The whole driving factor behind mail-order has always been getting the best possible price. At a certain price break, it's usually worth it to buy online, even if you pay for shipping.

Anyway, the Times says that only 2 of the most popular retailers have not already registered in New York to charge this "use tax" (WTF?) One is Amazon.com, as we all know they don't have any brick and mortar stores here. Duh. Although some of their Marketplace sellers probably do. Whatever, I guess it's back to the used book store for me.

More disturbing for me is the news that the only other unregistered retailer in the Top 10 is Newegg.com. This is a fine electronics vendor from which I have purchased pretty much every computer-related tool in the past few years. Part of their appeal is that they have very good customer reviews/ratings of every product. Also their prices were routinely the lowest around. Best of all, they're based in Jersey, so I would get stuff in like a day.

Now everything will suck. Buying from Amazon or Newegg will be like buying stuff in a regular store, but with shipping costs on top. Yay. Something about this whole thing strikes me as unjust. Why should New York state get to benefit from these sales? I don't know much about interstate commerce, but I'm not fully confident in New York's sovereignty in this arena. They can't even get the damn subways to run right fer chrissakes!

Oh well, I just hope the Calypso Discount Store down the street from me has a good price on USB flash drives.

Labels: Bad Stuff, Politics, Taxes, The City, The State

The J train has turned out to be one of the better lines in the city, but don't tell anybody. I'd rather that stay our little secret. Let the people go on fulling up petition after petition to improve the G train in the hopes that the MTA will ever give a hoot. The fewer people riding the J train, the better. Trains run so on-time they often arrive a minute early, and when was the last time anybody talked about a train running on its intended schedule? The J cleaves close to its official schedules, at least around rush hour when I take it most often. Trains can be crowded in the mornings but it's rarely as packed as the poor 4/5 trains. Part of the reason we moved to Bushwick is from learning what a good train the J is. But recently the J train has besmirched its reputation.

Take the above screen as an example. This has been happening a lot lately: track work means the trains skip stations in one or both directions. It's just a few stations but it's especially cruel this weekend as we will be having people over. It's hard to enough to lure people unfamiliar with our neighborhood to get on the J train in the first place. We live a block and a half from the station and people get lost; how will we pitch this service advisory, which basically means people will have to go down to Broadway Junction and get on a Manhattan-bound J for two stops to get to our house?

It would almost be better if there were NO trains running, as they'd have to run shuttle buses then, which would more or less stop at every station (though they do this a block away on Bushwick Ave for some reason). I'm hoping that they end up dropping the whole thing and run things normally, they've totally done this before. But you won't know until you get to the Myrtle Ave station.

Perhaps this is the MTA's way of stemming the flood of gentrification of the area: just when the post-collegiate crowd was really taking an interest to the neighborhood, they start messing with the trains so that if people don't get off the trains before Myrtle, they end up in East New York! God forbid.

I guess I could also say there was some kind of antisemitic thing going on since it's Passover this weekend, but then I scheduled a party on this same night, so I (as a fallen Red Sea Pedestrian) don't have much room to complain. And yet, I suspect I'll continue to find a way.

Labels: Bushwick, Gentrification, Holidays, Mass Transit

UPDATE: So I come home last night in anticipation of taking in these 3 cats only to find Baliff's room empty and a big hole in the window screen. I had opened the window to diffuse the scent of cat spray and the damn cat poked a hole in the screen and bolted! What an ingrate. I put the trap back out but he didn't go for it. As soon as I find him, I'm a neuter him myself!

- - - - - -

I took a break from the TNR work for a while, but in the last couple of weeks a new batch revealed itself unto us, and we were again moved to strike. Also we met some like-minded individuals who live a couple blocks away, and have been providing them with hardware and advice, leading to the incarceration of 3 cats. Meanwhile we captured 3 of our own, although this group differs from the usuals. While one seems to be a real feral, the other two appear to be tame housecat types, though somewhat worse for the wear being on the streets.

The latter are Baliff and Bishop, two black cats who look like brothers and may be related to the little black female I caught a little while ago (they all seemed to show up around the same time). In a fit of optimism I brought in these guys and stored them in adjoining rooms of the house. They immediately sprayed all over the place, rendering the house a vile and inhospitable place. Thanks, guys!

But it's all in a day's work, I thought. Then I remembered, I've got a big damn cage in the back yard that could have held at least one of them. Oh well, I have a gallon of Nature's Miracle, whose motto is, I believe, "60% of the time, it works ALL the time." Lucky for me, my allergies have been acting up so I can't smell anything anyway. But it's making the other cats act funny. And speaking of the other cats, here's who's left to adopt out:

As you may know, we've taken Merc inside since he's proven himself to be friendly. We've been calling him "Truffle" mostly because we just watched 2 entire seasons of Top Chef and apparently adding truffle oil to anything makes it better. And so it goes with this guy, he's a hoot. He'll be ready for adoption any day now, just hoping to get him a little less skittish. And get him to stop chewing on my fingers (???)

And then there's Annabelle, the sad-eyed Decatur clone. She has really come out of her shell, but she has yet to make that real transition into lapcatdom. I think she has it in her, she chases me down to get petted, she's just very flinchy. Hmm, "Flinchy," that's a good cat name!

Finally, Marbles seems to enjoy pounding on the other cats. She will sit at the bottom of the stairs and bop them each on the head as they run down. I bought a clicker at Petco and per the Salon article about The Cat Whisperer, I've been giving her treats and clicking when she does something good, which already has had an amazing effect. She's been docile and limiting her quarreling with the other cats! It's probably too soon to tell, but this training crap might actually work!

Labels: Adoption, Cat Fixin', Cats, Feral

I'm hard-pressed to think of anything to write about that's not cat-related, it's really the only interesting aspect of my life these days. I could tell you that the reason I've been so distracted of late is due to the Amazingly Important Web Strategy piece I'm supposed to be working on for my job. I have been tasked with coming up with the Vision and Mission of a thoroughly new site, which will no doubt change forever the face of our industry. Oh yes.

Of course, like everything we do around here, we'll start off strong, with everybody excited about whatever new concepts get brought up. But slowly, enthusiasm will die, and the field will empty once they realize that somebody will have to maintain and work on it over time. Everybody wants a piece of it but nobody wants to work for it. My business is the corporate equivalent of the guy who stealthily goes to the bathroom when the dinner check comes to be split up. Dick move, pal.

Anyway I just completed a brilliant outline (!!! haven't made one of these since like high school), and I'm now translating it to PowerPoint, or The Place Where Creativity Goes to Die. We call these files 'decks' for some reason. What does that mean? It's not a backyard patio platform and it's certainly not deck in the way British douchebags say it. Is it a deck of cards? No, but I assume that's the closest definition, considering the application's insistence of calling the individual screens "slides," as though any PowerPoint presentation could be as fascinating as your family's vacation to the Grand Canyon. I wish they would use terminology from filmstrip technology; each new frame could be preceded by a loud beep!

Labels: Job, Tedium

Last night we had a guy come over to look at adopting Valentine. He has a Siamese cat and wanted her to have a pal. Valentine is part Siamese so it seemed like it could be a good match. She put on a good show, being cuddly and playful and all that crap people like cats for, but the longer he observed her, the less he was sure she would work out. That's when his attention shifted ... to Baby Bones.

There may have been a touch of black market feel to the encounter: he asked about the cat and I basically said, "Nah, he's just for show, this one's not for sale" which no doubt piqued his interest. In reality, we never thought anyone would want to adopt Baby Bones.

One of 3 kittens born to Gladys that we took in way back in September, Baby Bones was named for his resemblance to another roly-poly cat of legend. His brothers were all adopted out, and we kept waiting for him to come around, to get used to humans and become a regular house cat. All his brothers had more or less made this transition and moved on; Baby Bones still ran under the chair when you tried to pet him.

Days stretched into months as we tried many methods to get him to like people. We tried toys, treats, exciting cardboard boxes. He loved them all, but rarely let us touch him. But he loved the other cats. He was so into cats that he became our ambassador for new arrivals.

Whenever a new cat was introduced into the household, he would be first in line to meet them, hoping to find a new playmate or at least somebody to sleep on. We think he really helped speed the process of socialization for several of the cats, who had been used to cats on the outside but not humans as much. His presence took the edge off while they got used to the idea. Unlike him though, they all eventually 'got it,' and now enjoy a good human or two. He was the feline equivalent of one of those companion animals they get to keep race horses calm.

So by March, Baby Bones (whom we tried to rename "Dreidel" or "Dray'dell" but it didn't really stick) seemed a lost cause. We still tried to get him to sweeten up, but nothing much worked. We assumed we'd have to keep him forever, and that was okay. The other cats liked him and he put up with a lot of abuse from them. It didn't even cross our minds anybody would want him.

Then this guy shows up and realizes that what he most wants a cat for is not himself, but his own cat. His cat used to have cat roommates who moved out and was now very lonely for feline attention. Getting Baby Bones would be like giving a cat its own cat as a pet. So we grabbed him and put him in the carrier and off he went.

And to think, we were thinking of dumping him at Jeannie's sister's place to fight it out with her crabby calico. At one point we seriously considered adopting him out to the guys at the Silent Barn, the semi-legal show warehouse on the other side of the neighborhood. There were dark moments when one of us was heard to utter "Let's just put him out back with the feral cats," but I'm sure that was in frustration after hours of trying to get him to understand that petting is a good thing.

We are totally floored that the guy would want to take him after all we've been through. But he knows his way around a cat. He got Lucy to fetch a toy mouse without even trying (this is after we said she was probably autistic because she seems unaware of her surroundings). So if anybody can make him come around, it'll be him. Good luck, Baby Bones!

Labels: Adoption, Cats