Quote of the Day: Vanity Fair Hive

Good morning! We hope that all the tryptophan and Beaujolais provided a momentary respite from the reality that the world’s most vital democracy is now being run by a Twitter troll. But here we are!

*nods in agreement*

LOL!

Stay tuned.

Voting, San Francisco Edition

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November 8, 2016

There are many, many problems facing the City of San Francisco.

One of these is not the system of voting.

In this presidential election year, self registered as a resident of the city, for the first time. A thick pamphlet came in the mail shortly after. Self felt like she was preparing for a grad school exam.

On the morning itself, when self turned on her cell, three text messages came up in quick succession:  Your polling place is HERE. VOTE TODAY. HERE IS A MAP.

And lo and behold, she followed the map and stumbled into — serenity. At 11:30 a.m. on Tuesday, Nov. 8, a polling place was the most serene part of the city.

It was soooo quiet! There were no lines! Self pored over her choices! There was an envelope to stick the ballot in! She couldn’t close the envelope, the ballot was five extra-long pages! She took her ballot to a volunteer, the volunteer casually flipped it over and told self, you didn’t fill in the back.

What? There was a back? For each page?

Never mind. Self did the important thing: she voted for President/Vice President, U.S. Senator, U.S. Congressman, Board of Supervisors, and some very important propositions.

After, she had to stick in her sealed ballot into a huge red box. Which was already full.

The next day, a message came in on e-mail, telling her: “There has been a change in the list of your selected representatives.” The e-mail went on to list each and every one of the elected representatives, starting of course with the POTUS. Though that was painful, she saw most of her other choices prevail.

Happiness!

Stay tuned.

More Tiny in San Francisco

San Francisco Museum of Modern Art: Tiny passageway

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San Francisco Museum of Modern Art: Stunning

Art boxes by local artist Carlos Pillado on the Altar of Old Saint Mary’s in Chinatown:

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Old Saint Mary’s, Pine and California, San Francisco

Kitsch in San Francisco Pizzeria:

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Godzilla! Above the Pizza Oven in Uncle Vito’s, Bush and Powell St., San Francisco

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Quote of the Day: Carl Hiaasen

It’s hard to imagine anything more unpatriotic than willfully putting your country — and the world — at such harrowing risk, simply because you dislike the Clintons and all they stand for.

Look at what Trump stands for.

— Carl Hiaasen, Miami Herald, 5 November 2016

 

Transmogrify 3: Picasso, Prada, Botero

To transmogrify is to “change in appearance or form, especially strangely or grotesquely; transform.” (Michelle W., The Daily Post)

Self has three different examples of transmogrification: sculpture by Pablo Picasso and Fernando Botero, and shoes by Prada.

From the Picasso sculpture exhibit last year at the NY MOMA: A harlequin.

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For something a little different:  A (really on fleek!) pair of shoes, seen in the Prada store in Venice, November 2015

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Final picture: A Fernando Botero sculpture can be glimpsed through an open door. Botero’s sculptures were on exhibit in Palo, Italy, November 2015.

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Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

5 a.m.: The Return of the Helpless Screechers

These girls next door never quit!

The laughter comes in waves. The current laughing cycle began at 5:50 a.m. or thereabouts.

Self peers out her apartment window, sees one lighted window in the building next door, and it’s on the side facing hers. She wouldn’t mind so much if, Friday night, the same laugh/screech/laugh cycle hadn’t occurred until the wee hours.

Honestly, there is no room for meaningful discourse in this dialogue. Because there is just one uproarious laugh after another.

See that yellow spot on the carpet? (SCREECHING LAUGHTER)

See what time it is? (SCREECHING LAUGHTER)

Know what my name is? (SCREECHING LAUGHTER)

At first self thought, they’re young and giddy because they’re so excited about being in San Francisco! San Francisco is the Golden Gate, the Dragon’s Gate, the Ferry Building, Golden Gate Park etc. And we’re young! And WE’RE HERE! AND WE’RE SO COOL!

Self is gratified to know that somewhere in the building next door, there are girlfriends who know how to be girlfriends. How to simply LAUGH. It must be such a joyous feeling to have laugh fest with your roommates, at 5:58. To know that, at the drop of a hat, at any hour of the day or night, you will have hilarious interaction with your roomies.

(Self recognizes your individual laughs, girls! She knows the one that goes: gasp/hiccup/HA!/gasp/hiccup; as well as the one that goes HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!)

If self were the mother of teenage daughters, would she have to endure this type of giggly on a daily basis?

BTW, self read somewhere that “giggle” should never be used, in any form of writing. Never. Because, according to advise dispenser, no one but no one giggles.

Self will now hunt for that writing website, so she can tell the author of the article that she lives next door to girls who really know how to giggle. Non-stop. Now, that level of giggle takes commitment.

Stay tuned.

The Raid on the Cabanatuan POW Camp: p. 164 of GHOST SOLDIERS

Much to the chagrin of the commander of the operations, it seemed like the American Rangers’ presence, so close to the POW camp in Cabanatuan, was an open secret to anyone within a day’s walk of the camp — no, to anyone in the entire province of Nueva Ecija.

First, more and more Filipino guerrillas kept appearing, offering their services. Next, the welcoming committee in Platero, the nearest town to the camp, arranged a veritable extravaganza:

The Americans had barely begun the approach to Platero when they were halted by the strains of singing, carried on the evening breeze:

The tune was hard to make out, at first, but then Prince caught it — “God Bless America,” the familiar stanzas rendered in thickly accented English, the melody charmingly curdled stale note. At the entrance to the town, a few dozen teenage girls dressed in white gowns were singing in sad, sweet voices. It was like a hastily arranged beauty pageant. The local school principal had gone door to door recruiting the prettiest young women from Platero and the surrounding countryside. Some of the girls shipped garlands of fresh sampaguita flowers over the Rangers heads and offered welcoming kisses.

Behind the cordon of singers, the village bustled with the sounds of cooking and preparation. The town were planning a feast. People were slaughtering their chickens and cows, building fires, stirring vats of stew. The villagers had prepared a classic Filipino fiesta, with all the gaiety and spare-no-cost lavishness, everyone brimming with a warmth that would almost seem cloying if it wasn’t so obviously sincere.

Self is convinced that everything, everything that happens in the Philippines, gets turned into melodrama at some point. Our history is full of tragi-comic events, and the one self has just finished reading is one of them. It’s the end of three years of occupation, one can say that the Filipinos were not doing too badly if they had enough food to impress the Americans.

The Filipino taste for drama shows them to be skilled comedians (and self remarks on this with a complete absence of irony, you’d better just take self’s word for it), with a comedian’s impeccable sense of timing. If the Japanese had spies in the village, they would have known for sure something was up, especially when the Filipinos de-camped and left the village a virtual ghost town. Self hoots because you know, you’re never sure what the ruse was: the welcoming committee or the fact that everyone took cover, as far from the field of action as possible.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

LOCAL: 14 October 2016 Daily Post Photo Challenge

. . . show us where your heart is.

— Jen H., The Daily Post

Dragon Papa!

Order your own hot (delicious) candy fillings.

752 Grant Street, Chinatown, San Francisco

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Lillian’s son Tien is filling out college applications. To help him through the stress, self took him to Dragon Papa.

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They make the candy, hot and fresh, just for you!

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Only place in the San Francisco Bay Area where you can get your candy fresh! The original Dragon Papa is in Hong Kong.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

H2O: Self’s

This week’s Daily Post Photo Challenge is H20:

  • . . . share a photo that features . . . the element of water. Water comes in many different states and guises. From a foggy morning to your favorite watercolor painting, how will you show H2O in a photograph?

— Lingnum Draco, The Daily Post

For this post, self will focus exclusively on fountains:

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Music Concourse, Golden Gate Park, San Francisco

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Closer View of the Golden Gate Park’s Music Concourse

Different Fountain: Russell Square, London

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Russell Square, London, June 2016

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

The Nostalgia of Others

Of course, nostalgia is something that affects everyone differently. We’d love to know what kinds of experiences you’ve had that stir these emotions for the past in you.

— Jeff Golenski, The Daily Post

Here are some WordPress blogs whose takes on this week’s photo challenge, NOSTALGIA, intrigued self:

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

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