Baptizing the Bike Lane

Dr. Barbara Friedes died two years ago.

Two years and still no effective protection on the Pine-Spruce bike lanes. The memorial was at 8:30 a.m. on Sunday, July 19, at the spot where Barbara was killed, at 18th and Spruce, in front of the Beth Zion Beth Israel synagogue. And there was a special guest, a miniature plastic jersey barrier. These plastic jersey barriers (normally much bigger) are very popular around construction sites. They are light and easy to move around, until you fill them with water. And then when you're done with them, there's a valve that lets you empty the water out.

Anyway, everybody was asked to bring a full water bottle and, after the speeches, empty their water bottles into the little jersey barrier. 

Just so everyone understands, the plan to protect the Pine and Spruce bike lanes does not involve jersey barriers. It involves low pieces of concrete that remind me of throat lozenges. These are installed not head to toe, but with gaps between them. At least that's my understanding.

Before we got to this little piece of theater - I must say, I did it and I felt good afterward - we had a number of very good speeches, including one from City Council President Kenyatta Johnson, who, at the appropriate time, also poured water into the little jersey barrier.

City Council President Kenyatta Johnson

Philly Bike Action was the main sponsor of this event, and a PBA member offered a very good summary of the history and our present situation. We also heard from Barbara's husband, mother, and sister, and a colleague from Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, locally known as CHOP. 

We can, at another time, discuss the insanity of not protecting these bike lanes, and also what we can do about that. There is a lawsuit, and I think the plaintiffs think they have us pinned. But I'm not so sure. 

All that, though, is for another day. This day was for Barbara, and her family, and her friends and colleagues. And, frankly, all of us. A bad thing happened that should not have happened. And those of us who are alive have to deal with that. And I felt there was some healing on this day, along with a firm resolve to make things better.

Barbara Friedes died on July 17, 2024, at the age of 30. It turns out her favorite flower was the sunflower. 

See also The Vigil for Dr. Friedes, Loading Zones Are the Key, Mayor Parker Signs No Stopping Bill, A Scheme of Chaos, On the Art Museum Steps, Somotomo.

Trump as Dracula

How do I make this funny?

Okay, let's face it. Trump is not funny. Ridiculous, yes. Fart jokes abound, and then there are the various forms of actual incontinence. But I find myself feeling slimy.

I really like the idea of Trump sucking blood out of the neck of the American people. Good visual image - two puncture points, etc. - but frankly it's not funny.

There's also the Nosferatu angle. In the 1922 movie, Count Orlok (the vampire in this version of the story) shows up in a coastal town in northern Germany and brings with him the plague. Lines up with the saying that everything Trump touches dies. 

I could go on. The cabinet members who all have two little puncture marks on their neck, and are also busy sucking all the blood from the American people, who, at the end, all look very white.

But it's not funny.

Then I found the little guy at the top of this story. I've never seen him in person, but he sits on a low wall next to a castle in Budapest, and he's perhaps 18 inches tall. He's actually a bit famous. He's not just Dracula, he's also Bela Lugosi, the Hungarian actor who played the vampire in the 1931 movie Dracula. (The sculptor, Mykhailo Kolodko, has developed a specialty of making small statues which often have a humorous side. They're all over Budapest. For more, click here.) 

I find it hard to get scared of a vampire who's not much bigger than a bat. And it's clear that he's only thirsty for knowledge. 

What is he reading in that enormous book? Perhaps he's reading about a fellow called Vlad the Impaler, who may or may not be a distant relative. Or he may be reading the collected works of Calvin and Hobbes, possibly with appendices summarizing the works of Locke and Luther.

For comparison, here's a picture of Donald Trump holding up what's reliably said to be a bible. If you're into semiotics or iconography, you may notice that the book is not open, and he is not reading it. Instead he is brandishing it as a weapon. That's about Donald's speed - and this is back then, before he completely lost his marbles.  

So I finally found a way to see Dracula as funny. However, I failed in my larger quest. Donald Trump is simply not funny. Ridiculous, pathetic, and - let's face it - frequently terrifying. But he will never provide the cathartic release of humor. And I think that is possibly his greatest failing. In the end, I don't think you can win in this country if your team is composed entirely of sour, dead-end haters. There aren't enough of them.

Many strongmen have ruled countries and empires by terror for very long reigns. Just look at Joe Stalin. But, in America today, I don't think that flies. People used to refer to Reagan's act as fascism with a smile. And I think that was his competitive advantage.

Some may argue for the cathartic release of tragedy, but Trump is no Hamlet, or even Macbeth. His shtick lacks moral gravity, and provides no resolution. 

On to the dung heap of history, Donald. You'll be happy there, surrounded by excrement, straw, dead mice, and the pervasive odor of corruption.

Bonus item: Here's a picture of Frank Rizzo's face being erased. The mural was located in Philadelphia's Italian Market. People who didn't like Rizzo kept defacing it, and eventually the people responsible for maintaining it gave up. I've often called Rizzo Philadelphia's first fascist mayor. He still has many admirers in Philadelphia, but his mural is no more.

News flash: Facebook reports that someone has stolen the little Dracula/Bela Lugosi statue in Budapest. Why would anyone want to do that? You certainly wouldn't want this little creature flitting around your bedroom in the night. I hope all turns out well, and there are no puncture holes in the felons' necks. (Now there are reports that the artist may have removed the statue for maintenance.) 

One very final thought: “You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.” According to Time magazine, Abraham Lincoln probably never said this. And the current occupants of the White House have clearly never given any thought to the idea that there were limits to the effectiveness of their mendacity. But the statement strikes me as a core truth about the American people, to be ignored at your peril.

See also Unleashing the Oligarchs, The Face of Fascism, Little Karl, Somotomo, The 800-Pound Gorilla in the Oval Office, Is Elon Musk a Vampire?

Red Baiting Comes Back

Why I think it won't work

Near Flatbush Ave., Brooklyn, 2024.

Quick answer: the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, and most people now alive in America barely know what a bomb shelter is.  

Donald Trump is trying to launch yet another American Red Scare. We had a big one after World War I and the Russian Revolution, and another big one after World War II - the commies took over eastern Europe, we "lost" China to the ChiComs, Joe McCarthy has a little list.

Both of these Red Scares worked big-time. They scared the patootie out of ordinary Americans, who thought the commies were coming, and would knock on the door of their new house in a brand-new suburb, and demand the keys to the family car, and drive away. Bye-bye car. How do you live in a suburb without a car?

Nowadays we're still scaring the patootie out of small school children by making them hide under their desks or in a closet. But the threat now comes from the Second Amendment, and that of course is as American as apple pie, and so, if you're not dead, just pick up your trauma and march on.

The world has moved on from Red Scares. People don't think commies are coming for their cars. There is no boogie-man like Joe Stalin in the Kremlin. In fact, Donald Trump, our president, just loves Vladimir Putin, the current occupant of the Kremlin. 

I don't see how you can bring back the Red Scare. Stephen Miller will try,  because he's running out of bullets. But this one looks like a dud.

Near Ft. Greene Park, Brooklyn, 2025.

See also There's Got to Be a Better Way, A Shortage of Serviceable Ducks, Slingshot.

The Golden Shower Returns

Maybe he's enjoying it (again).

I'm not sure the typical American will be able to read this picture easily. So I'm going to help out. The prime minister of Italy, Giorgia Meloni, is standing at a second-floor balcony in a charming little Italian hill town. She is pouring a piss pot full of pee on the head of the president of the United States, Donald Trump. Trump is holding some sticks in his hands. These may be highly symbolic in Italian culture, but frankly I have no idea what they mean.

Long and short, this is sort of the anti-Romeo and Juliet balcony scene, where Juliet says, "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Juliet is making an attempt to bridge the gap between her family, the Capulets, and Romeo's family, the Montagues. 

Instead, Meloni is telling Trump to buzz off.

By the way, emptying pee pots from an upper window was a very old European tradition. It's fairly clear that it dates back at least to the Romans, although they often set up large vessels by the front door of their apartment buildings where people were encouraged to dump their pee pots. The urine collected could be used in tanning hides.

There's a remote possibility that the British English term for bathroom - the loo - derives from an old Parisian custom. Parisians would empty their chamber pots from upper floor windows, but being considerate of their neighbors who might be passing below, they would call out "Garde l'eau," which means "Watch out for the water." 

But anyway, if you want to get rid of an unwanted suitor, this was, for many years, an available tactic. And I think it pretty accurately describes the hosing that Giorgia Meloni just gave to Donald Trump. Our president, you know.

See also Scavengers and Scow Trimmers, I Found a Picture on a Wall.

World Cup Watch Party

Mexico v. South Korea 6/18/26

The game is at Estadio Guadalajara in Zapopan, Mexico. The watch party is at 18th and Lombard in Philadelphia. Kickoff 9 p.m. Philadelphia time.

Waiting to get in.

The last time I shot this patch of asphalt I was covering a car crash. See Mayhem on my Corner. I prefer watch parties.

The Man Who Would Be King

Be Careful What You Ask For

I was looking at this picture of Donald Trump attending a luncheon at this week's G7 meeting, and it caused me to revise my thinking about him. I have believed for some time that he had only recently figured out that he was going to die. And it appeared that this prospect not only surprised him but terrified him.

And from this it seemed there flowed an inexhaustible supply of manic behavior. Attacking, always attacking, as Roy Cohn had so sedulously counseled him. 

I had expected a later phase, still focused on the fear of death, but where the attacks would go away and the mind would turn to an inner focus on beating the reaper.

I think we may have skipped over that phase, or it may have happened so quickly that it never left any public trace.

I now think Trump has gone to the phase where he accepts imminent death and perhaps even longs for it. 

I expect to see recurrence of the violent attacks against the outer world and fate. He does have a large staff dedicated to keeping him alive and in the fight, particularly online, but I don't think his heart is in the battle anymore. The picture above is the real Trump of today - exhausted, and knowing he is beaten. The rest is really just a bunch of hangers-on hoping to prolong the gravy train and maybe stay out of jail, at least until they can get safely out of the country.

Trump is ready to die.

"The Man Who Would Be King" is an 1888 short story by Rudyard Kipling and a 1975 movie starring Sean Connery and Michael Caine. Things go great at the beginning, then not so much. It is Afghanistan, after all. 

See also Circling the Drain, Just Another Picture.

Can You Sense the Drift?

Trump Is Dead in the Water

Deal Lake Drive, Asbury Park, 2022.

It's not good being a sitting duck. If he's a boat, at least he can send up some colorful flares, and maybe even some anti-aircraft fire with lots of tracers. If he's a duck he can flap his wings on the water and quack a lot.

But let's face it. All any of this really does is draw attention to the fact that he can't move.

The next metaphor is shooting fish in a barrel. This is generally considered unsporting, but I hope we all understand by now that we are not playing a game. Certainly the Iranians understand this.

If you're standing next to him, move away. 

"It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing."

Deal Lake Drive, Asbury Park, 2024.

See also 86 47; Somotomo; Anticipate Quagmire, and Much Noise; Just Another Picture; Circling the Drain; Is It Shock and Awe, or Is It a Flash in the Pan?