Rowhouse Logic - Breathtaking Inanity

Sometime Thursday morning, the Philadelphia Gas Works shut off the gas to my apartment. This wasn’t due to non payment on my part, but rather, by PGW’s own admission, an error. Somebody moved out of an apartment in my building and cancelled their gas. Rather than shutting off the gas to the proper unit, PGW shut off the gas in mine.

My wife spent a few long hours on Friday afternoon standing in line at the PGW billing center at 11th and Chestnut, trying to get the gas turned on. Apparently these things can’t be done over the phone if you get the wrong call center operator (your results may vary). She was quite successful on paper. PGW Agreed to send a technician out on Saturday to do what needed to be done, and he did indeed arrive. Sadly, the meter number on his work order didn’t match the only meter in the building that was shut off and he refused to turn on the gas until he could get it sorted out. Unfortunately, the people with the power to sort these things out don’t work on Saturdays. Nobody works on Sunday, but he promised to get somebody out on Monday. A little over half an hour ago, Monday ended. Needless to say, nobody arrived.

Naturally, the last few days have been some of the coldest of this fairly warm winter. Just now, the temperature outside is in the mid-twenties and Sunday night the temperature dipped into the teens. My wife and I are young, healthy and employed, so this isn’t really much more than a pain in the ass. We have an electric heater and a fireplace and have managed to keep the temperature in the apartment hovering in the upper fifties. If worse came to worse and this situation lasts, we can get a hotel room.

Most people who lose their heat mid-winter are not in my situation; it’s much more dangerous than just a pain in the ass. When it first became clear that this was going to be more than a few hour event, my wife wondered what would happen to a couple with an infant who don’t have the means to get out and get somewhere warm. A good question. Other questions naturally involve what happens to the elderly and others who’s immune systems are not so robust when faced with a similar situation. Nothing good, I’d imagine. It is now perfectly legal for utilities to cut service mid-winter in Pennsylvania, so some very dead answers to these questions are likely available, or will be soon.

Anyway, I’ll be busy for a bit so have a nice Tuesday.

Update: A fairly unpleasant gentleman at the PGW call center promised me, on Tuesday morning, that a technician would be sent out Tuesday night to turn on the gas. Tuesday is gone and nobody ever arrived. We’re probably moving in November, and at this point I’m almost inclinded to give up on ever getting service in my appartment. Our water heater and stove are both electric, so it’s not really a huge deal. Just a bit chilly is all.

I wonder how many posts I’ve lost to Firefox’s Ctrl + W shortcut, which closes the active tab. My guess is about 5, including the one that should be sitting at the top of the page right now. I know better than to type straight into the browser, but I’m also a fool. It was pure drivel, so no loss. Anyway, I’m crazy busy at the moment, but I hope to be with you shortly. Have a nice Monday.

This is just awful. An aesthetic nightmare of the first order. I hope to provide you with something even worse tomorrow.

I’m not a cruel person, but I’ve found myself, over the last month or so, looking forward with glee towards the moment when every Blackberry in America goes black. I can’t put my finger on why I feel such animosity, but just to be safe, I’ll blame The Swarmy Fucking Note.

Howard has a nice take on recent questions raised by two congressional Republicans with regards to Citgo’s program to provide heating oil to low income individuals in several US cities, including Philadelphia. He writes:

Only in our great land could you reasonably push the notion that it’s wrong to help the poor. And I do mean only here.

Stop and think about it for just a second. When you first heard that Hugo Chavez was providing discounted heating oil to low income Americans, was there ever any question in your mind that some Republican politician or pundit would object? It’s really ugly what passes for normal on a day to day basis.

Last night I wrote that I wasn’t going to post Fran-Dance from Miles Davis in Stockholm 1960 with John Coltrane unless somebody requested it. Somebody did, so here it is. Enjoy!

I’ve got nothing. Have a nice afternoon and don’t forget to call your endocrinologist.

Update: Just to be clear, there is no problem with the chihuahua’s endocrine system, so don’t go around feeling sad.

Sleep well. May all of your dreams be wiretapped for the good of the nation. Or is it for the good of the party? I’m always getting this wrong. Shit! Anyway, somebody wants to blow something up somewhere. Be scared or be square.

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Here’s an explanation of why this keeps getting posted.

One of the unsettling things about having a very middle class family income and renting in Center City Philadelphia in 2006, is that you can see and feel yourself being priced out of your lifestyle. Each new condo conversion and each new high rise erected, feels like another nail in the coffin of the slightly skanky, but very cheap and fun lifestyle that Center City has given so many us for years. Curse the New Yorkers and empty nesters if you like, but it’s like cursing the rising tide. There’s nothing you can do about it. Maybe not today, but one day soon, your landlord is going to realize that he can sell off your apartment to some empty nesters for a half million dollars and you’re gone.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that the city is doing well and that people want to be here. This is really an odd time in this city’s recent history, in which people are actually voluntarily moving into town from far away and exotic locations like Queens and New Jersey. This is new and exciting. We’re used to seeing people leave. Nearly every friend I had growing up, as well as both of my siblings, left the area the very first chance they got, and they aren’t coming back…Bleh, this is getting stupid.

Anyway, I really just meant to point to this Philadelphia Weekly interview with Inquirer architecture critic Inga Saffron, which covers quite a lot of ground with regards to the building boom. Lot’s of good stuff, so have a look.

I always love a documentary that leaves me feeling a little freaked out when it’s over. This movie is a little over an hour long, but worth a look if you have some time on your hands. If you don’t care for graphic material, don’t watch it. Also, it’s always good to be skeptical of everything, not that you didn’t already know that.

(Via No More Apples)

I barely ever listen to Walkin’ from Miles Davis in Stockholm 1960 with John Coltrane because it’s on a different disk than the rest of the cuts that feature John Coltrane. The majority of the four disk set features Sonny Stitt on Saxophone which is fine, but it’s not Coltrane. Coltrane, as per his unusual, tears the blues to pieces, making this track well worth a listen. One thing I find interesting is that some of his lines foreshadow some of what he what he will play on Africa Brass about a year later. See if you can hear it.

This post is going to pretty much round what I’ve got to offer from Miles Davis in Stockholm 1960 with John Coltrane. I’m leaving out Fran-Dance and the Coltrane radio interview, though I’ll be happy to post them if anybody wants me to. You can find the rest of the tracks scattered throughout the site’s music category.

Some of you may recall that I wrote a few posts a while back with Cat Shit Coffee as their titles (here and here). I gave an explanation for that in another post altogether (which also contains a baby panda picture). As I’m sure you suspected, it all revoves around Bob Casey.

Much to my surprise, Cat Shit Coffee is a real beverage. Its real name is Kopi Luak and it comes from Indonesia. The raw coffee beans are consumed by a small cat-like creature named the luak. The beans pass through the animal’s digestive tract and are excreted a few hours later. Plantation workers gather up the beans to be roasted and packed. One pound of these excreted beans costs around $100, which seems just about right for a pound of cat shit.

Now you know.

I spoke briefly with Larry Farnese last night. Larry is running against Babette Josephs in the Democratic primary to be the state representative for 182nd district, which is where I live. He seemed like a decent guy, and his positions seem to be solid. He’s definitely worth considering if you live in the 182nd.

Sir Oolius, from She Flies With Her Own Wings, is urging local bloggers to link to Larry Farnese’s campaign website to help get his name associated with his site on Google. Since I love a good old fashioned Google bomb, I couldn’t resist.

I’ve got nothing. Have a nice afternoon.

Alex leaves a rather dire warning for me and my misguided Casey bashing cohorts in a comment on Young Philly Politics:

Casey haters beware- you will be made to look like the whiney little brats you are after the primary is over!

Yikes! We will be Made to look like the whiney little brats we are! Well that’s pretty harsh. I haven’t been made to do anything since I was a little kid, so this sounds like it’s going to be an extraordinary event in my life. I can only assume I’ll come out the other side a quivering, submissive shadow of my former self, ready to serve Bob Casey in all of his endeavors.

What I wonder about are the methods. How exactly will I be made to feel like a whiney little brat? Will it be a triumphant blog post scolding me for not supporting a candidate in the primary who I disagree with on nearly every issue? Perhaps, but will an electronic missive on my failed beliefs really make me look enough like a whiney little brat to satisfy the masses? Maybe, but somehow I doubt it. I mean, I am something of a lazy person, so I may not even read said missive. In that case, I won’t even know what a whiney little brat I’ve been made to look like. What good is that? Where’s the fun? What then? Will it be a wedgie, or a noogie, or a double dog dare to stick my tongue to a frozen pole, or a tongue lashing, or a rude comment behind my back? Will it be something a little more violent than all of that? You will be made to look like whiney little brats. That does evoke something a little nasty, now doesn’t it? Hmm.

Whatever the case may be, I look forward to my impending reeducation and hope to come out a better and taller man. Nowhere to go but up.

I’ve just finished reading Will Bunch’s American Prospect article on how Rick Santorum likes to get his ethical lapse groove on. Will did a great job, so be sure to have a look. Rick’s groove is just about as deadly dull as you might expect. Little Rick seems to have a thing for Arby’s and Burger King and can’t seem to find a way to pay for his fast food without an ethical lapse. It’s really a little pathetic that the man who launched a million man on dog jokes, may well be taken down, in part, by something as mundane as his penchant for roast beef sandwiches from a lousy fast food place. The stuff about the house is obviously going to get most of the attention, as it should, but something about unethical fast food purchases seems perfectly suited to Rick Santorum somehow.

Can you say “Rick Santorum accepts improper gifts?” Sure you can.

The only reasonable way of stopping a handful of assholes with box cutters is to undermine the rights of 300 million people. Nothing else will do.

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Here’s an explanation of why this keeps getting posted.

The second set of Miles Davis in Stockholm 1960 with John Coltrane gets a little less attention than the first, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pay attention to it. So What is the only repeat from the first set and the tune receives a much more compact and concise treatment than it did in the first set (you can check the other version out here). This stands out as the only cut from the evening that features nearly as much Miles Davis as it does John Coltrane. Enjoy.

Sometime around 2:30 or 3:00 Saturday, just as I was finishing off my last beer and fiddling around with the computer, I hear a loud scream just outside my appartment door, followed by the sound of a somthing large tumbling down the stairs. This, in and of itself, isn’t all that unusual for a Friday night in my building, as many of my neighbors lead what I’ll describe as active lives. There was something different about this though. Quite clearly something bad had just happened.

I made my way slowly out the appartment door and down the stairs, being cautious just in case the sounds I’d heard were the sounds of a physical altercation. They weren’t. Two flights down I found my neighbor’s body twisted like a pretzel - legs crushed against an appartment door and what appeared to be a badly dislocated sholder. I was fairly certain he was dead as he didn’t seem to be breathing at first, but then I heard him moan, followed by iregular, but heavy, breathing. Now the obvious concern was a spinal cord injury. I rushed back up to my appartment and called 911. While I was on the phone my neighbor started calling for help, which seemed a good sign. My wife had woken up when she heard me on the phone, so I asked her to go out front to flag down the ambulence when it arrived.

The next few minutes were awful. I stayed with my neighbor to make sure he wouldn’t try to move and he just kept repeating over and over again that he didn’t want to die. I’ve never been in that situation so I can’t even begin to imagine what he was going through. Fortunately the fire truck and paramedics arrived in short order. The paramedics tested him out, got him in a brace and determined that he was pretty much ok. I was shocked, as was the paramedic who first saw my neighbor and later mentioned that he was fairly certain my neighbors days of walking were over. After a great deal of screaming and general lunacy (he thought he was being arrested), my neighbor was walked out to the ambulence and taken away. The funny thing is, I bet he’ll probabably be pissed at me for calling 911 at all. What fun!