greetings, fine friends, from Occupied New York! brevity is the soul of escaping from internet cafes with one's pants and spare change intact, so don't expect much from me. i'm thisclose to having a connection at home, i promise - direct paycheck-sending vibes at The Man if you would like this to happen quickly.
a lot of the city is Famous People Broken, as were the elevators in my office building when mrs. kerry paid a visit to the execs a few months ago. ninth avenue in particular is quite soupy, as everyone's motorcades like to rocket down the street with bowel-loosening mufflerless police bikes. i was on the 1/9 yesterday afternoon with four very young people in solid grey fatigues; they seemed very annoyed when someone struck up conversation and they were forced to admit that they were secret service. i, for one, would have believed they were plumbers or DEVO.
republicans are easy to spot: they really are tall, swaggering, fat and cowboy hatted. they also have high decibel conversations about how asinine it is to tax the rich. we would like to tell them to go home or maybe throw fries in their direction, but at the end of the day we don't really like the look of those special plastic handcuffs that everyone seems to be carrying.
thinking about attending the 'save johnny cash' protest on the upper east side this afternoon. the details are fuzzy - damn the cafe and my inability to do in-depth research - but it seems to be about my speed. still kicking myself for missing the anti-bush-slogan wet t-shirt contest, even after being told that you're not allowed to wear a bra for that sort of thing. i can confront my fears in the name of freedom, really. hand me your fries.
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