Violence: electrical, taxable, and mercury-laden
Today I was on my way to the Osco and BOOM! a transformer exploded and caught on fire right outside. Full of sound and fury. I went in anyway and got all the way back to the pharmacy before the power went out. I wonder why it took so long? Now the power is out all the way from there to my neighbors across the street. I guess I got lucky.
Not so lucky was my interesting (READ: BORING AS HELL) discovery that even if your employer is withholding cash by the fistful, the IRS can still decide to clobber you with late penalties for not filing quarterly taxes.
Beware!
Jeremy provided me with his own Baltimore faves list, which he said wouldn't fit in the comments spot:
-The old man bar in Hampden that would occasionally metamorphize into a teenage discotheque around 9 pm.
-The World's Biggest Slice, also in Hampden.
-The fact that I only made $6,500 in 1997 and still had more disposable income than I do now.
-The Bar called, "Bar," where they would let you bring in records to play on their turntable on Thursday nights. [Ed.: That place smelled like a dirty sponge.]
-The Jolly Roger on Eastern Ave, where I once watched the Academy Awards with a bar full of obese, toothless women, who had much to say about everyone's outfits and had plenty of Crock Pot food to share.
-Samos restaurant - pre makeover.
-Some pizza place that I used to risk my life to walk to when I'd work late at the downtown's Kinko's...
-The view of the city at night when you pulled off I-395 coming from the south, where Baltimore looks like a huge metropolis.
-The
castle-prison.
-The quasi-kitchen supply store on Broadway that sold decades-old-brand-new gold lame oven mits and matching aprons.
-The feeling of security once you were inside your apartment which can only be truly felt when utter terror is only a few flights below you, out in the street.
-Video Americain, where I always carried an exorbitant late fee, even though it was in our apartment building.
-The Block. [Ed.: This is a pitiful red-light "district" consisting of one block of strip clubs next to the police HQ.]
-Going to OPEN SUNDAYS LIQUORS on Greenmount on Sundays to buy booze, with someone keeping the car running.
Now, on to the catfish. I called my friend
M up and she mentioned that when she spent last summer in Michigan, her social life took a turn for the worse so she and her brother would hunt catfish. Did you know people could hunt catfish? I sure as hell didn't. But she said the lake's all polluted and there's no oxygen in the water so they all hang around near the top. They're chock full of mercury, too. She said, "If you ever get bored in Chicago you should drive up there and try shooting some catfish!" I explained that Chicago city residents aren't allowed to own guns. She said, "That's OK, you just need an air gun for catfish." Like I know what that means. Where I'm from, the target of a gun is rarely even an animal, so I wouldn't know from air guns.
Chicago has had a gun ban since 1982. Chicago also has the nation's highest murder rate, beating out NYC, LA, and even good old
Baltimore. I'm all for controlling guns, but you've gotta wonder.
