The Mayor’s Freen Fair

 

There are barriers on the street corners waiting to be dragged out to block off the streets. At 9:30 the bags are already over the parking meters proclaiming that anyone there after 2 p.m. will be towed. It must be another stupid downtown event!

The politicians and organizers whose self-aggrandizement is served by these shindigs will tell you they are good for downtown businesses. The people who actually own the business will testify to the opposite. Think about it – you block off the major downtown arteries, you do away with all street parking – how can that be helpful? Sure, there are people downtown, but they are milling around IN THE STREET looking at the old cars, or watching the runners or whatever lame thing is being presented to their dull gaze, rather than going into any stores.

One of the dumbest of these events was last night. I think it’s called the Mayor’s Green Fair, or something like that. It’s supposed to be sort of about being green or ecology but, like many things in Ann Arbor, it’s more about advertizing the participants’ virtue and helping them feel good about themselves than actually accomplishing anything. There are some booths about composting or electric cars, but nothing that you couldn’t find on the internet in a second.

And there are a lot of bicycles. Liberty is a major east to west artery here, but last night it was blocked off, only inhabited by a line of orange traffic cones running down the middle. One guy on a tandem with his kid was tentatively weaving his way around them with noone watching as I passed. Great use of space, guys!

Sad to say nature was none too kind to her green friends last night, unleashing a rain storm during the first part of it. It let up by the time I left work, but still there were only about a hundred of people strolling around, no more than you’d get on a usual Friday night. The main attraction seemed to be a circular seven-seat bicycle that was careening around narrowly missing people to scattered applause. But despite that there was prominent and glowing Ann Arbor News coverage of a bustling and well attended event of the same name that must have taken place in a parallel universe. At the same time the Kerrytown Bookfest which draws about two hundred times more people and is actually fun, informative and good business doesn’t merit a mention.

The kicker is that yesterday we also learned that there’s going to be a pro-am bicycle race circling downtown on Sunday, September 7th, the same day as the Bookfest. Unlike some of the brain trust, I don’t think it’s that catastrophic, but it isn’t going to help general traffic and congestion problems, and you can bet it’s going to drain every ounce of publicity. You know, you think that when you get out of school that the athletic crowd won’t elbow everybody else aside any more, and generally these days the Bill Gates types of set the priorities, but still every so often we’re all supposed to step aside and make way for the sweat soaked super beings. Hey, I’ll yield to a Super Bowl parade or any of the other incredible athletes of the pro sports world, but when it comes to weekend mini-marathon runners or pro am cyclists I feel like they’re in my way.

Bicycle people are funny – they really think they are morally superior to the rest of us, which gives them the right to ride on the sidewalk, street or wherever else they want and always have the right of way, their green rectitude enabling them to blow through stop signs or barrel over pedestrians at will. It really burns me when I hear one of those handlebar bells informing me that I’d better flatten myself against the nearest store front so the sacred bike can have a clear path. In my book children ride on the sidewalk and grown-ups ride in the street, and in fact when I lived in Minneapolis adult bikers weren’t allowed on the sidewalk. I remember this biography I read where the subject, a Rhodes scholar, was mortified because a Life photographer posed him in his cap and gown riding his bike to class in Cambridge on the sidewalk, because over there it just wasn’t done. But that doesn’t stop the domestic version from trying to commit vehicular homicide on me. The ironic part is that I walk to work everyday, so in fact on the green scale I’m morally superior to them, not being responsible for using the resources necessary to manufacture a hideously expensive bike.

I’m not against bikes at all. If you’re going a certain distance it is much more responsible to bike than to drive and kudos to anyone who uses that form of transportation. And, let’s face it, bike riding is fun. But somehow, in our benighted times, fun isn’t fun anymore. You have to be deadly serious about it. You can’t just get on a bike and go for a ride, you have to put on a array of ridiculous gear, fill a bottle with an approved beverage, grit your teeth, and go out to do some serious distance. Even people who walk now do it with swinging arms, a determined expression and a maniacal pace.

Bicycle types aren’t really jocks. In high school they were more like wanna be jocks, who one day when they were older finally found a sport where you could define yourself by what you bought. Get a clownish jersey, some of those laugh out loud padded butt shorts, a pair of shoes you can’t walk in, goofy ass gloves, a dorky helmet and sit on a car priced bike and noone will know you’re really a wimp, the way they did when you struck out in Little League. There’s no coach, no competition, just you and your credit card, and if you lay down enough you can convince yourself that you’re Lance Armstrong. Like too many things in contemporary society identity seems to have come down to the consumer choices made rather than who you are or the actions you perform. Kind of like the Mayor’s Green Fair.

 

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Crime Beat: But Were They Ypsipanties?

Panty thief strikes at 2 mobile homes

A panty thief struck at two homes in the same manufactured home community in Pittsfield Township on consecutive days, police said.

A woman reported her underwear was stolen sometime during the day Tuesday at her home in Arbor Meadows on the 5200 block of West Michigan Avenue, Detective Lt. Steve Heller said.

There were no signs of forced entry, and nothing else in the home was missing or appeared out of place.

A woman living in a nearby home reported a pair of her underwear and rings were missing from her residence when she returned shortly after 6 p.m. Wednesday.

She found the panties outside, but the rings are still missing.

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Solov’ev on Art

For art has a triple task, Solov’ev asserts: the direct objectification of the internal qualities of the living idea, the spiritualization of natural beauty, and the immortalization of nature’s individual phenomena.

– Steven Cassedy

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L.A.M.F.: Resurrected and Ready to Kick Ass

 

I remember that when L.A.M.F. by the Heartbreakers came out I was very hot to get it – earlier that summer in my overeagerness I’d even picked up the first Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers album by accident. Being a big New York Dolls and Johnny Thunders fan, it was with great anticipation that I slit the shrinkwrap, slid out the platter and laid it on my crummy turntable

But, boy, was I disappointed – you could sort of hear that there were some good songs and killer riffs (Chinese Rocks and Pirate Love are two that come to mind) that punched through the obscuring mix, muddled by too many hands and too many drugs, but basically it just sounded like crap. The Live at Max’s Kansas City LP came out soon after and made the case for the Heartbreakers’ genius much more forcefully, mostly because you could actually hear the songs clearly. I dug that all the time, which in turn led me back to L.A.M.F. Now that I knew what the music was supposed to sound like I started appreciating it more, to extract the subtleties and raw power of the song writing and playing from the muck.

Not that many people made the effort though, and with so much interesting new music coming out, even the quickly dismissive afficionados were disinclined to give it a second chance, and the bad mix managed to blow the Heartbreakers’ chance for success in the emerging New Wave scene.

I know there are plenty of vinyl purists out there, but there are also a lot of reasons to appreciate CD’s, one of which is that the format gives record companies the excuse to resurrect and enhance lost gems of the past. I could point to the amazing King Oliver: Off the Record collection, or, more to the point L.A.M.F.: The Lost ‘77 Mixes. In a labor of love Johnny Thunders fanatics painstakingly went over the original tapes, found the best performances, and re-mastered and re-mixed them, revealing the record as the work of genius it really is. Now you can hear Johnny’s yelp’s, Walter’s voice, and the incredible guitar interplay between them and Jerry’s absolutely brilliant drumming and Billy’s bitchin’ bass. The material is fascinating too, the product of the uniquely potent musical scene that was exploding, with the influences of The New York Dolls, Richard Hell, The Ramones and all the fertile craziness of Punk-era New York and London.

I guess the version I got, the ENHANCED/EXTRA TRACKS/IMPORT/LIMITED EDITION from Jungle records came out on CD about five years ago. I missed it, and I’m guessing it didn’t get much attention in the contemporary American Idol "music" scene, but I’m so grateful it finally came into my hands. I got it new from Amazon just a couple of days ago, but maybe I got the last one, because as far as I can tell it’s only available used now. But if you want to discover another great coulda been on Johnny Thunders’s star crossed resume or just a kick ass rock record, I suggest you find a copy.

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Cambridge Poppies

canoe

Cambridge Poppies

The woman in

The bottom of

The canoe shakes

The wet branches

And for a moment

All beauty seems to

Die in her awakening

And yet she still wants

To see this instant

The lovely mixed up sight

Brick streets and bald professors

All pouring down into Green pond

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Crime Beat: They Found Jesus (In a bush between two trees)

ACROSS THE REGION

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Stolen Jesus statue found in alley

Someone tried to sell it back to church

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                  DETROIT

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          By Naomi R. Patton

         Free Press Staff Writer

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They will now have to answer to Jesus.

An 8-foot statue of Jesus that was stolen from the cross at the Church of the Messiah on Detroit’s east side was found in a alley near the church.

The Rev. Barry Randolph and Patricia Bower, a woman who lives in the neighborhood, decided to take a shortcut home and found Jesus "in a bush, between two trees" Wednesday night.

Randolph and a church member went to pick up Jesus and found the green-hewed [sic], weather-beaten statue with only a hand missing.

"We are truly grateful," Randolph said Thursday.

But in a twist, someone advertised the statue for sale on the classified ad Web site Craigslist on Wednesday. Then, presumably the same person called the church to try to sell it back to the congregation for $1,000. Randolph said he declined. The statue had been found by then.

The statue is made of a strong plaster, but a thief or thieves may have mistaken it for copper. A parishioner called church staff Tuesday morning and told them the statue was missing from the 107-year-old Episcopal church at 231 E. Grand Blvd. The cross on the side of the building was badly damaged.

"We got calls from all over the world," Randolph said of how fast the news spread.

The church will have the statue and cross repaired and will host a "resurrection celebration" when it is put in place. Randolph said the church will post a sign next to it: "Jesus is not copper. Do not take him off the cross."

Somebody give that statue a hand!

 

 

 

 

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Peace, Bro, Later, Dude

 

Man, I just found out that one of the guys that runs the barber shop down the street got killed in a motorcycle accident. His brother did the honors last week, but he’s cut my hair as well as my son’s many times and was an extremely righteous dude…here’s to your memory, a great barber and a great person, Steve Bigelow. Peace, bro.

I guess a 27 year old guy getting cut down like that will bring perspective to the week’s other shocking news, which was the long awaited wave of firings at the Titanic of the book world, Borders Inc. They showed good judgement in sparing my remaining friends, but Joe Gable the legendary manager of the State Street store was finally shown the door. True, his attitude has sucked for decades, but he was there from the very beginning, and is as responsible for the store’s success (remember that?) as anybody. There was a rumor that the Borders brothers made his continued employment a condition of sale, but the once proud company has been sullied by several hands since then. Joe always reminded me of the titular Joseph Conrad character Nostromo (and not just because they are both Italian), who did all the work but was denied the riches. The now ubiquitous set up for the super-book store was really Joe’s idea, and he made it work. Like Nostromo Joe’s ego ultimately messed him up, and, unlike Nostromo, he never had the guts to float away with the silver barge, but it’s a historic day one way or the other when he leaves the building. Later, dude.

 

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Quote Bag: Picking Flowers

 

Do not all the achievements of a poet’s predecessors and contemporaries rightfully belong to him? Why should he shrink from picking flowers where he finds them? Only by making the riches of others our own do we bring anything great into being.

– Goethe

 

Give us the teachings of his majesty, we don’t want no devil philosophy.

– Bob Marley

 

A revelation, faster than thought and too fast for him to grasp it properly, flashed through his mind, leaving in its wake a dull sense, rapidly fading, that ‘time’ is nothing more than a fiendish comedy, which an all powerful, invisible enemy conjures up in the human brain.

– Gustav Meyrink

 

America’s enormous technology is marvelously adept at making the tool, and is incompetent at providing the purpose.

– Loren Baritz

 

All state education is a sort of dynamo machine for polarizing the popular mind, for turning and holding its lines of force in the direction supposed to be most effective for state purposes.

– Henry Adams

 

When they were no longer able to make poetry, they devised rules for it.

– Heinrich von Kleist

 

It is dangerous to desire to be virtuous in a corrupt century.

– De Sade

 

The falsification of everything has been shown to be one of the characteristic features of our period.

– Rene Guenon

 

If someone calls you an artist that’s a compliment. If you call yourself an artist you’re in trouble.

– Waylon Jennings

 

Faith is to the thoughtless, doubt to the thinker.

– Melville

 

Although I have never understood it, her decision was understandable.

– Suzanne Berne

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The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher by Kate Summerscale

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective, Kate Summerscale, Walker, $24.95.

From the very beginning real and fictive crime have had an inseparable relationship. Novels have influenced the way people think about crime almost as much as actual crimes have influenced novels. Obviously detective fiction couldn’t have started before there were detectives, but once it did, the public perception of what detectives are and what they do was very much determined by mystery books.

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher is a fascinating work, not only for its vivid portrayal of an intriguing true crime in 1860’s England, but also for its deft examination of the parallels between the emerging real life detectives of the time and their literary doppelgangers. When three year old Saville Kent, the son of a prominent local functionary, is taken from his nursery and later found brutally murdered, it seems like the perfect set up for a classic English country house mystery.

Though there are several inconclusive clues, the local police are baffled and, just like in the books, are forced to appeal to a famous detective from Scotland Yard. Soon Detective-Inspector Jonathan Whicher, a well respected sleuth with powers of detection and observation bordering on the miraculous, arrives, and, after a meticulous examination of the scene of the crime and the various suspects, renders his unshakable opinion as to the identity of the guilty party.

But here’s where reality and fiction part ways – although the Victorians glorified the concept of the brilliant detective, in practice their rigid social codes and maniacal demand for the appearance of propriety wouldn’t allow them to accept the sordid facts revealed when the streetwise Whicher peeled back the facade of the Kent household. The press and public simply couldn’t handle the truth, especially when, given the primitive state of forensic science and the fact that the suspect was spared rigorous interrogation, there was no conclusive proof.

But just when the reader becomes apprehensive that Summerscale’s narrative will limp to a rather deflating conclusion, further twists and turns emerge, including a denouement that any fiction writer would envy. The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher is an absorbing, expertly written and constructed book, one which provides not only an exciting real life murder mystery, but also a heady immersion into the Victorian milieu and a unique portrayal of the emergence of the modern detective in both fact and fiction.

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Crime Beat: Naked and Wet

 

POLICE BEAT

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_________________________________

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Naked man accused of towers break-in

A naked Ann Arbor man is accused of breaking into a 10th floor downtown apartment from the high rise balcony this morning – but police don’t know how or why he got up there.

A resident of Huron Towers Apartments called police at 1:30 a.m. to report a man breaking through their sliding glass balcony door, said Detective Sgt. Richard Kinsey.

The intruder was naked and wet. He ran out of the apartment through the front door and did not confront the residents.

Officers arrested the 42-year-old man in the parking lot and referred him to the University of Michigan Medical Center’s psychiatric ward for evaluation.

Kinsey said investigators learned the man previously lived in the building, but could not explain why he was there and how he managed to reach the 10th floor from the outside.

"We can’t figure out how he got there or what the intent was," Kinsey said.

 

And here’s the event of the week for all you little dolls…

 

Clinton

Dolls can catch the 10:30 train

The Ann Arbor Doll Collectors will hold a presentation about dolls and their history on Saturday, June 7, at the Southern Michigan Railroad Society Railway History Museum in Clinton.

Residents can bring a special doll to "Take Your Dolly for a Train Ride" on the 10:30 a.m. train from Clinton. The train will pick up Tecumseh passengers at noon, so all riders can view the dolls on display between 12:50 to 1:50 p.m. at the Clinton museum. The train departs at 2 p.m.

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