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listen.

The next one to go.

The news about Kaye Cowher’s death started circulating among my Pittsburgh friends Friday night. I might have missed it then, but I heard it loud and clear this morning — it was skin cancer that ended her life at age 54.

I hate that.

I hate it because I’ve had skin cancer tumors removed already, on my arm, on my shoulder, and I’ve had a pre-cancerous lesion taken off my forehead. I hate it because I have two more spots on my arms that I need to be taken off as well.

And, as I’ve said before, I hate it because it’s preventable. And because we — yes, including me, the one who’s had tumors removed and will likely have to do so for the rest of his life — still don’t take it seriously.

Guys? Wear sunscreen. Put on a hat. If you can, stay out of the sun in the late morning and early afternoon. It’s really that easy.

And. If you notice a spot on your skin that you haven’t noticed before. If you have a little sore that doesn’t want to heal. If a mole or a birthmark you’ve grown up with starts to change size or color. Please — the next time you see your doctor, point it out. Make sure your doc sees it. Ask if it’s something that a dermatologist should check.

Because that little spot can kill you.

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26. almost-end-of-the-month bullets.

  • WordPress says I’ve put up 25 posts — this would be the 26th — so far in June. The calendar says its June 27. I need a couple days of double posts to make sure I’m sort of NaBloPoMo compliant.
  • I’m still not certain exactly what entails “NaBloPoMo compliance.” I may let you guys decide that on the last day of the month.
  • We have officially begun Grateful Dead week, which culminates with Friday’s Furthur show at the LC Pavilion in Columbus. Bobby, Phil, et al., have been kicking ass so far on their summer tour, which got underway last week. I’m confident that momentum will keep up until Friday night.
  • Y’all know I’m a serious fireworks freak, right? The bonus for Friday’s show — pointed out to me by my friend Hilary at our Blossom Phish show a couple weeks ago — is that the big Columbus fireworks display, called Red White and Boom, will light up probably about halfway through the Furthur show. LC Pavilion is just a short distance north from Downtown, so we should have a pretty good view. I cannot wait.
  • As I’ve mentioned before, next weekend is also my 25th high school reunion. To commemorate this auspicious occasion — and to honor the suggestion of my high-school friend Beth, who suggested we do this on our Faceboook profiles — I have pulled a scan of my senior picture and posted it here, in all its feathery-haired glory.
  • As I’ve also mentioned before, I’m not going to the main event so that I can attend the show with Mrs. Crappy, Juan, HP, Hilary (who was actually two years behind me at UA)  and, I hope, Fred (also not in our high school class, as he is about 27 years older than we are…).
  • I do, however, have a short week so that I can attend the classmates-only happy hour — which turned into several hours five years ago — on Thursday night. Hilarity will undoubtedly ensue.
  • Have I written enough that this counts as an actual post? I really want to complete the NaBloPoMo thing this month.
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deduction.

I can’t be sure, but I have a suspicion that this:

has a lot to do with this:

Crap.

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let the fun begin.

There have been plenty of jokes about hippies this week; I’ve let a couple go myself. Sure, they’re funny, and it’s easy — like of like picking on that kid who looked so different in grade school.

But there seems to be a lot of genuine anger towards the protesters here for the G-20 Summit as well. I’ve seen people call them scumbags, dirtballs and worse. That’s disappointing, at least to me.

The protesters have a right to be here, and the points they support aren’t off base. Centralized power, in government, in business — or in both, as we’ll see here this week — is rarely a good idea. The 20 nations that will be represented in large part determine policy and practice for the entire planet, including an awful lot of people who have no voice in those decisions. I’m a relatively intelligent guy, and I have no illusions about why things work the way they do; I don’t think, however, we should be a problem with a group trying to focus attention on those who have no power whatsoever.

A bunch of folks from Greenpeace were just removed from the West End Bridge this morning after they hung a banner calling for reduced carbon dioxide emissions. Sure, they picked a pretty dramatic way to make their point, but really — who thinks trying to cut greenhouse gasses is a bad idea?

Dissent is good. Dissent is why this country exists. Dissent, for example, is why conservatives have been hosting their Tea Party tax protests since Obama took office. And dissent is why most of the protesters are in town this week.

* * *

There is another side to this, though. The protesters visiting town have a responsibility, too.

You’ve all seen the list by now — targets for “actions” on Friday, pretty much all over the city. The cynical side of me thinks we can probably get by with one or two fewer Starbucks in Pittsburgh, but that’s still not the right way to go. If you damage a Starbucks store to the point where it has to close, you’ve hurt the corporation, which, I assume, is your goal. But you’ve also hurt the people working there, right? Students who need that minimum wage job to stay in school? Retirees supplementing their monthly checks? Aren’t these the people you’re supposed to be speaking for?

And what if this goes further? The main “action” of the week is supposed to be a march that starts Thursday at Arsenal Park in Lawrenceville and heads down Penn Avenue to the convention center. That route takes them right through the Strip, which isn’t exactly a corporate playground. Those are family-owned local businesses, many of which have been there for decades. If one of those is put out of business, we’re losing more than a store — a family will lose its livelihood; dozens of people — who don’t have anything to do with any of those corporations that have been targeted — will lose their jobs.

Most of the protesters aren’t about breaking windows or setting fires. They want to draw attention to themselves and their cause, as the Greenpeace folks did this morning. At worst, these people will cause a temporary inconvenience.

But just as the folks who attend the Tea Parties try to distance themselves from the assholes who show up to have their overt racism on display, there will be some people who come to town wanting to more than just tie up traffic. The responsibility of the protesters is to respect our town and its people. They need to understand that the few who showed up to break and burn stuff can’t be permitted to do so. They’re smart enough to know that most of us think of all the protesters as one homogenous mass, and if one window gets broken or if one business has to close, those who came to Pittsburgh with honorable intentions will have all their work undone in an instant.

I know I’m in a serious minority here, but I’ll support their right to be here, to march and even to disrupt traffic along the way. If they live up to their responsibilities, I’d even welcome them back.

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aw, rats.

440634859_73f4ddb299

Monday started great. After not getting enough sleep, Mrs. Crappy abruptly charged into the bedroom, told me to wake up, put on my glasses and check on the birdbath we had been using as a bird feeder for a few weeks.

And I stumbled over to one of the back windows just in time to see a rat jump up into the feeder to help itself to breakfast.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mrs. Crappy asked. Suddenly awake, I responded that it was.

OK. I’m willing to make some concessions to urban living (or, as urban as Brighton Heights can be, I guess). Seeing a rat here or there shouldn’t be unexpected and isn’t the end the world. I’d rather not see them in my backyard, but this is a problem we can deal with.

Mrs. Crappy decided this is a problem she would deal with RIGHT NOW; she took the day off, bagged and hauled our little brush pile to one of the city dumps, disassembled and re-assembled the stone wall along the back side of the yard, bought poison and placed it along our back fence and in the overgrown backyard of our squirrely next-door neighbor, whose “shrubs” seem to be the home of the infestation (She did this after he left for work Monday afternoon, after spotting a few more in his yard while talking to him. He seemed to be aware that there might be rats living in his jungle; he didn’t seem to be overly concerned. So don’t tell.). And, to the chagrin of the 18,000 sparrows that visited the feeder each evening, we have suspended the birdseed buffet until further notice.

We’re not slobs. We don’t have garbage lying around. And I don’t expect this to become a serious problem; between the poison and the elimination of an easy food source — and especially if we can convince our neighbor to take a machete to his backyard jungle — I’m thinking the rats will simply move on.

This is a part of city life I could have done without experiencing. We had mice in our Butler apartment two different winters (Miles LOVED watching them but never seemed to consider doing anything besides watching them scurry across the kitchen floor); a couple traps and some steel wool in a hole behind the stove seemed to solve those problems.

I’m not sure why, but rats seem worse. So while we’re sorry that the birds are going to have to find a new place for dinner, we’re not going to be feeding any of the other neighborhood critters at the same time.

- – -

Flickr photo: Rats!!!! by Matthiew :: giik.net/blog.

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perks.

police_lights_night1

Sunday wasn’t the best of nights. I would have been dragging anyway, thanks to the Philly trip, but I was feeling crappy all weekend, and feeling worse at work.

We also had the newsroom’s first random power outage of the spring; we were down for only 90 minutes or so, but that was enough to set me up for what happened later.

Which was this: just after 11, we heard a call about a bad accident in the northern reaches of our coverage area. On a normal Sunday, I wouldn’t probably wouldn’t chase a call that late, because we’d be too close to deadline.

But with the delay from the power outage, I had time to hustle up to the scene, spend a couple minutes collecting whatever information I could and get back in time to write something.

So I went. I found one of my favorite cops who was willing to help me out, and I sped back to the office.

Literally.

I was moving quickly enough that I didn’t notice the cop who was watching traffic around the corner from our office. In fact, I didn’t see him until he was behind me, lights on, pulling me over in front of our building.

He asked for the license and the rest; as I was digging that stuff out of the glovebox, I did something I’ve never done before: I asked him for a break.

Every single time I’ve been pulled over for speeding — including this one — I’ve deserved it. And I’ve always felt that arguing about a ticket was A) a little pointless and B) liable to piss off someone who could make my life very difficult. So I’ve never done it.

I didn’t do it Sunday, either; I did ask the guy if I could have 10 minutes or so to get my story done. I said the copy desk was holding the paper for me, and I had to get my story filed; I even offered to let him come inside while I wrote.

The cop, a guy I recognized but don’t know, smiled just a tiny bit. “You know why I pulled you over, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I was flying.”

“Yes, you were,” he said. “Take it easy, OK?”

My Sunday to that point had pretty much sucked. After that, though, I had no room

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