The Trumpocalypse is upon us. Inauguration Day is less than 48 hours away, Connecticut’s senators Dick Blumenthal and Chris Murphy are planning to attend (a questionable decision but as long as they resist when it matter, we’ll let it slide), and we’re still hoping Trump will suffer a panic attack before taking the oath and run screaming from the stage.
On inauguration day I hope to completely ignore the entire affair. It happens to be The Farmer’s birthday (he spent his 30th birthday at Obama’s first inauguration–this year isn’t looking quite as bright) so we’ll be pretending the inauguration isn’t happening. We’ll be doing the New England in January version of this:
(For the record, that entails hot toddies, a parka that fits just right, and a bonfire.)
I hope that you’ll help crush Trump’s ego, turn off the TV, and make sure his ratings are abysmal, but more than that I hope you’ll consider joining the rally in Hartford on Saturday. Get involved!
Many years ago I was rushing from a friend’s Hartford apartment to the car on a cold winter night. I tripped a little, and assumed I’d hit a bump in the sidewalk with the toe of my shoe. But my friend, who was walking behind me, yelled, “Oh my God. A rat!” Yes, dear readers, a rat had run between my feet as I was jogging to the car, and I’d unwittingly kicked the little guy. At this point I screeched, broke out into a full out run, and started scratching at the car door! I had to get out of there, and go home and shower for hours.
Then I spent years in New York City where rats are like furtive little squirrels. You see them hanging out on the train tracks, and they scare the bejesus out of you when you’re sitting in the park and you see one scurry into a tree grate out of the corner of your eye. This is all to say, I thought I was used to rats.
This summer proved me wrong. I was digging around in a friend’s West End basement looking for painting supplies. Just as she finished saying the words, “My neighbor says there’s been a rat down here…” we heard the tell tale squeak of a frightened rat. I turned on a dime and sprang up the basement stairs, and then up another flight of stairs to her apartment. Somewhere in there I hit my hand on something and scratched it all to hell. It’s a miracle I’m not dead. (more…)
I’m not sure what the height of stupidity is. Donald Trump will figure it out soon. But I’m pretty sure what I did this morning ranks pretty high (or is it low?) on the Scale of Dumb Shit. And I did it all for the Gilmore Girls.
If you’re on social media, you probably heard that Netflix–in all of its sheer marketing genius–decided to celebrate the “anniversary” of Gilmore Girls by turning coffee shops across America into Luke’s Diner on October 5. And if you showed up early, you got free coffee! (more…)
Have you driven North out of Hartford on 91 lately? Have you noticed the Long View RV jumbotron sign? Well, I have, and it’s really sticking in my craw.
As late as Thursday morning the electronic sign outside the RV dealer, and directly on the side of 91 North, said “All Lives Matter” and something like “Bring America Together.” I actually had to check my rear view mirror to see if I had misread the sign because, Why would a RV dealer be weighing in on politics and the news of the day on a billboard? It makes about as much sense as a failed businessman and trashy reality star running for President of the United States. (more…)
You may have heard that the state (and the city of Hartford) are in dire financial straits. That’s meant a lot of layoffs, including two Animal Control Officers. If you follow our Facebook page you’ve probably noticed that we post a lot of dogs from the Hartford pound–most of whom make it out alive thanks to Sherry DeGenova and her work with local rescues and social networking.
I understand the city has to make some hard choices, but ACOs are incredibly important in cities–mostly because people are irresponsible jerkwads who refuse to spay and neuter their pets, and don’t someone had to clean up after them. So, if you want to be able to go to the XL Center for a Bruce Springsteen concert without being attacked by a stray pack of Chihuahuas, you should probably help support Hartford’s hardworking ACOs.
A deer crashed through the window of a nail salon on Whitney Street in Hartford, ruining any number of manicures.(Watch the video on WFSB 3 Connecticut.) Your first reaction might be to wonder what a deer was doing in the busy West End of Hartford, but for me the real question is what did that poor deer see that made it want to jump through a sheet of plate glass? Here are the choices as I see them:
A man with a luxurious mustache carrying his banjo to a front porch jamboree
A couple of weeks ago I braved the cold February winds to see 2016’s Art Sled Derby at Elizabeth Park. I was joined by The Farmer, and one of his friends so we decided to get lunch in Hartford afterward. We drove over to Vaughan’s and circled the block a couple of times looking for parking. All of the “open” spots we saw had hoods over the meters, and so we eventually caved and pulled into the Asylum Street Parking Lot.
The Farmer and his friend are from Western Mass. When we go out for the day or night up there, it’s usually in Northampton. More often than not, we end up in the E.J. Gare parking garage and it never costs more than a few dollars to park for the day/night. Why? Because the first hour is free and every hour after that is 50 cents. So, imagine our surprise when, after just 2 hours and 5 minutes at our lunch, we were charged $15 to get out of the parking lot.