Author: mitchellsthoughtsphotosetc

Anat showered for nearly an hour. She made sure to wash her long black hair. She got out and put on a clean pair of sweats and a Stanford sweatshirt. She never had a mani or pedi. And knew the nail salons were closed. So she looked at videos on YouTube and went to Duane Reade and bought some nail polish. She did her best. she bought some inexpensive makeup, too. When Sephora reopens she will buy more.

She got home and put on some blush. She cranked the Cure. Her music tastes were just as dark as Alana’s. The two of them probably would have been friends if they met under different circumstances. Not that Anat ever had one friend. She never tried. She kept to her books and misery.

She looked at her ratty boots. She loves them so. But went to Timberlands’ website and ordered a brand new pair. Next was Bloomingdale’s website. She bought some new dresses. She was hoping she’d get to wear them soon. Eventually, her office would reopen. And rather than her usual telecommute she might sit at her old desk.

She felt better than she’s felt in years. She was considering volunteering to pick up groceries and deliver to the elderly.

She couldn’t wait to get outside. But one thing was still in her mind. Was she ready for a complete transformation? Or would people not even recognize her and would she be able to create more terror?

Marc and Alana probably shouldn’t have locked lips after defeating Anat in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park. They weren’t thinking. But they were two of the only three people in the park. And we know the third person was on the ground dying. Or was she?

Marc and Alana walked right home after the fight. They showered and watched the YES Network’s broadcast of Righetti’s no-hitter v. Boston on July 4, 1983. Billy Martin was managing the game, Yogi was coaching and the Scooter was in the booth. It was 94 degrees that day. Marc remembered watching the game at his grandma’s house. A few weeks later the famous George Brett Pine Tar game happened. Not so royal.

The two cranked the Ramones and dreamed of partying with Sheena at Rockaway Beach. They were mighty proud of their handiwork. But knew it likely wasn’t over. They fell asleep in each other’s arms while Joy Division’s “Love will tear us apart” was cranking.

The next morning Anat woke up on the pavement of the park. She was confused. She felt dizzy and was in pain. She took her almost dead iPhone and took a selfie of her face.She pulled up her shirt and saw bruises on her chest and abdomen. She nearly fainted when she saw her headshot.

Her eyes were black and blue and she had cuts on her pretty face. Yes, she does have a pretty face. If she washed up she’d be hot.  She tried to stand up. She fell right down. She put her hands on her head and broke out in a hysterical cry. She knew she did this to herself. Most of her misery had been self-inflicted. Okay, she could never change her parents’ lack of love and affection. But she did have her grandma’s love and she did well academically. She did better than most. She never did drugs. She didn’t drink that much. Once in a while, she would have a glass of wine or a beer. But she carried so much angst. She needed to drop it.

She finally got up in the desolate park. She walked out and got an Uber to take her back to her apartment in the city. The whole ride she kept her head down and cried.

She walked into her apartment. Surprisingly she kept it immaculate. She stripped out of her torn clothes and walked toward the shower.

Marc and Alana know even in these trying times, Anat is out wreaking havoc. She has no respect.

They know they need to end her madness. But how?

They read their old comics and saw what the Hulk, Sith, and Jedi would do. Marc grew up loving the Hulk, Emperor, Vader, and Yoda. But generally leaned dark.

They got out of their pajamas and put on hazmat suits and went out. They knew they had many places to investigate. Anat was known to stir trouble all over the city.

They started in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park. It is a beautiful but usually filthy park with no drainage. Alana and Anat have fought each other there.

They marched in and hiked toward the World’s Fair Globe. The park was deader than dead. They walked toward the zoo. They didn’t see her. Nor did they smell her.

They kept walking. They didn’t want to jump on the trains or ferry to head to Central Park, Wolfe’s Pond Park or her other haunts.

They kept their heads up and kept patrolling. They headed toward the building that houses the swimming pool. All of a sudden an apricot nailed Alana in the back of her head. She fell back. Marc grabbed her.

They looked everywhere and didn’t see their nemesis. They walked a few feet and more dried fruit was falling. Marc looked up at and saw her Anat at the top of a tree. She looked like something out of a B level horror flick.

Alana ran for the tree and scaled it like a reptile. She pulled her mask off and started shooting wine. Grapes were hitting her. She laughed. I’m being shot with what my wine is made of. She knew she had to fight harder.

From the ground, Marc launched pomegranates at Anat, who was still at the top of the tree.

Alana climbed higher and grabbed Anat by the neck. Anat started to wobble. She started to fall. In her flight to the ground, she grabbed Alana’s ankles. Alana kicked her ground and kicked Anat. She kept flying.

All of a sudden she landed on her stomach. She let out a scream like a dying animal. An animal she was. But she wasn’t dying. She was injured. But ready to fight. But she couldn’t move.

Marc stood over her and drowned her in honey. Alana jumped from the tree and landed with her feet into Anat’s face. Anat’s legs kicked up as Alana landed. Alana rolled to the ground and got up.

Anat was withering in pain. But trying her best to rise. Alana looked at Marc. Their lips locked.

 

Marc and his mom were supposed to go to the Holy Land. But instead, Marc and Alana have been locked in Alana’s shire for days cause of the Coronavirus.
The two strange lovebirds listened to Morrissey’s new album, “I’m not a dog on a chain” many times. They also listened to some blues and off course lots of Bauhaus. They discussed life. At least their view of it. Occasionally, they texted their families and friends.

Marc did services with his friend’s shul in Rockville, Md. But they would never go there on a bus…. A little R.E.M. for you.

They stayed off social media. It was made up of too many uneducated people who are now infectious disease experts. Most of the loudest mouths never even graduated accredited schools. The two of them read their Kindles and just stared at the walls.

Jen and Tzipora responded to their texts. They were just as bored. Then there was Anat. She was out and about. Naturally, she ignored the wash your hand’s edict. She was as gross as ever. But she was feeling happier. It was as if she was pleased with the world being torn apart. She figured people finally knew how she felt. She plastered shuttered businesses with dried fruit. Occasionally she shot one of the lone passersby with it.

She hit some stray animals and just laughed. Remember she’s a Stanford grad with a great job. But warped. Very warped. If she only cleaned up she’d be pretty and guys would go after her. But she refused.

NY 1 was out patrolling the empty streets of a once-bustling city and reported on Anat’s handiwork. They didn’t know who did it. Multiple reporters just said they noticed dried fruit stuck the windows and gates on many shuttered stores. And an awful odor in the streets.

Marc and Alana saw the report. They looked at each other. They knew they had to act.

Anat was feeling more depressed than usual. Certainly not for the lack of trying, she just can’t seem to give a final knock out to Marc and Alana. She spent the next few hours trying to come up with a plan.

She just had to wait for the right moment. She prayed with all of her might that it would come. She went running and hoped she’d run into her adversaries. She saw plenty of couples hanging out as she ran the Battery Park City Esplanade. Pissed her off. She knew she’d never been with anyone. She ran harder. She so wanted to pelt everyone with raisins. But she held back.

She was waiting for Marc and Alana.

And waited she did. Her neck twitched when she saw Jen pushing her kid’s stroller. Her mind raced. Her shoulders tensed. She was so upset. She wondered why Jen should have a husband and beautiful kid and she can’t.

She scrunched her face and starting wailing raisins and apricots at the wheels on the stroller. Jen lost control as they got caught in the wheels and she started crying and shaking. She raced after the stroller. Anat was still fighting hard.

All of a sudden someone grabbed the stroller and pulled it out of the way. Jen couldn’t see what happened as her eyes were blocked by raisins. She fell down. All of a sudden wine started showering Anat. Figs and apples hit her in the head. She just looked at Alana who was holding the stroller with her right hand and unleashing her weapons with the left. She turned away in despair.

Jen got up and saw Alana. She hugged her. Alana smiled and walked away.

I love spending time in parks. In 2015, I was fortunate enough to spend about two weeks in Iceland. All of its parks are magnificent. I hiked on the icy ground around glaciers, waterfalls and volcanoes. I got soaked. And loved every second of it. I’d go back in a heartbeat.

New York City has magnificent parks, too. Some are quite famous, i.e. Central and Prospect Parks. However, Iceland’s parks stand out over NYC’s and most other parks. What makes them stand out? No, it is not the beautiful location and the breathtaking mountains of ice. It is the cleanliness.

A few days after I returned from Iceland, I picnicked on the Great Lawn in Central Park. It should be called the “trash-filled great lawn.”   Now, I grew up in NYC and have been to dozens of our parks. The parks have ball fields and hoops to shoot. Some have pools or lakes. Unfortunately, all the parks have one thing in common, garbage everywhere. Way too much of it.

One morning in Iceland, I was walking to a convenience store to buy candy. There was a Coke can on the street nearby. Probably dropped by a tourist. I saw a man walk down his driveway and pick up the can and place it in a trash can. How often do you see that in the USA? Especially NYC. Rarely.

I’ve been stewing on this for a long time. But finally collected my thoughts and photos. Not so long ago, I was with my nephew and brother-in-law walking their miniature schnauzer, Zoe. We were in a Siedenberg Park, Great Kills. It had water, lovely trees, and trash. It was named for a firefighter that fell in 1994. We worked together in a teen job.

Then I went to Bryant Park. We all know the “lion library” is there. It has the giant field where we watch movies or Broadway performers and what else, trash. Too much trash. Flushing Meadows Corona, Yellowstone, and Gerald MacDonald Parks share the same story. Or any park in NYC. Coney Island’s boardwalk and beach where the famous polar bears swim is not any different than our parks. I know the Polar Bear Swim Club tries its hardest to keep its beach and medicinal waters clean.

The question is why is there a plate on the floor of the park only a few feet away from a garbage can? Or a poor turtle swimming in Meadow Lake surrounded by a paper cup, plastic, and aluminum foil. I doubt it is good for the turtle’s health.

I looked up at a tree and saw what I first thought was a kite stuck in it. I looked around for Charlie Brown. I took a photo. When I zoomed in on it in Photoshop, it was garbage that blew into the tree. I found a tire, bottles of spirits, and water. And holes dug by contractors loaded with you guessed it garbage. And of course, I found cigarettes. Lots of them. That awful habit is not even permitted in NYC’s parks. Some were still burning. The Eagle Scout in me stomped them out and also picked up some of the garbage and placed it in the receptacle.

So what should we do? I’ve done beach cleanings and park cleanings in the scouts and when I worked in politics. We did our good turn. We had fun and ate pizza while we worked. But why should we do this? Let’s keep our parks clean.

Marc has not seen his sister, Miriam in ages. He decided it was time. Now Marc is a decent religious guy. But he runs from it at times. But usually, he comes back.  Alana is in this boat, too.  On the other hand, his sister is hard-core orthodox.

Marc and Alana packed a valise and hopped on the train to Riverdale for Shabbos. They needed the rest and Miriam cooked really well. She was able to make the stuff Marc’s grandmother made.

They bought toys for her children. There are many.

Marc loved going to the Bronx. But everyone knows he prefers the Stadium.  The two got off the train and walked to his sister’s place. Marc and Miriam’s husband, Mordechai along with her older boys went to the synagogue.  The ladies lit candles.

Shabbos dinner was splendid. Great wine was poured. Alana was pleased.  Right now, she, Marc’s and Anat’s exploits have been kept quiet.  It happened and things moved on.  Miriam and Mordechai lived in their own religious cocoon. So even the small amount of news about their antics passed them by. They were solely devoted to Torah study and doing mitzvot.

Alana and Marc retired to separate bedrooms.  His sibling sort of knew about their relationship. But chose to ignore it.

Anat strongly recovered from her last incident with Marc and was waiting to make her move.

Everyone woke up and headed to pray.  Marc was hoping for an aliyah. He wanted the Haftorah.

Alana and Miriam walked over a little slower.  They’ve known each other forever.  Miriam was pushing the stroller holding Sarah, the youngest.  Miriam wasn’t always orthodox. She was observant but got more religious later in life.

The two ladies were enjoying each other’s company. The weather was perfect. The men were entering the temple.  As the ladies got closer apricots and raisins pelted the stroller and nailed Miriam, nearly knocking off her head covering.  She lost her grip on the stroller.  Alana grabbed it but tripped. She screamed for Marc at the top of her lungs. He raced away from the door and grabbed his niece. Alana jumped up and started drowning the area in wine. She didn’t want to give Anat a leg to stand on. Marc placed Sarah back in the stroller and helped his sister.  He got them into the building.

Marc watched Alana flood the area. But the problem was they had no idea where Anat was.  At least the wine was kosher.

Anat came flying down from the top of a tree.  Thankfully this was going on in a religious community and everyone was inside praying.  As she exited the last branch Marc belted her with a barrage of pomegranates.  She fell face down into a pool of wine. Her eyes blurred.  But she stumbled up and fired away dozens of raisins. She was met with figs and barley. Some honey was splattered at her, too.

Alana charged Anat with a solid punch in the face. That caught her nemesis by surprise.

Marc saw the two ladies go at it and walked into the temple and opened a prayer book.

At this point, Marc was still hoping for maftir. But was a little dirty to be called to the Torah.

By Mitchell Slepian

Today, far too many places use low flush toilets to conserve water. Well, these toilets wastewater.

Let’s explore how.

Years ago, a dearly departed friend went to Israel. I was going shortly after. He told me its bathrooms had two buttons on the bowl for flushing.  One small. One large. I am sure you can guess what body waste corresponds to which button.

No surprise that the world’s holiest place would come up with ways to conserve water. Its lack of water stories and methods it developed to have it are well known.  My office has traditional urinals and bowls.  The bowls are low flush.

Now I’m all for conserving water. But sometimes one makes a big defecation — Be it diarrhea, a log, several nuggets or even a few twigs, often requires extra toilet paper.  Many times when you flush plenty of poop and paper is still floating around the bowl. Or even worse, it gets stuck to the bottom of the bowl. This means you have to keep flushing.  What a waste of water.

Is there a solution? Yes. What is it?  A five-seater tip pan latrine saves water and brings much-needed togetherness.  A 10-seater would work even better.  But I have only experienced 5-seaters.  Sadly, the larger ones were gone way before my time.

An old tip pan latrine literally and figuratively is the only way to go. These precious buildings known as Willys or Larrys have a urinal next to the holes. The willy roll rod was right behind the seats, affixed to the wall.  On the other side were a shower and sink.

When you do your business, your waste goes into the willy hole.  It doesn’t flush. So no water is wasted.  You see a tip pan willy worked on a simple, yet ingenious principle. When people went, washed up and showered, the wastewater ran into a large tip-pan, which collected this water. The pan was on a fulcrum, like a seesaw. Once enough water filled the pan, it would tip forward and release the water into a large pit that was below the seats. The waste products were washed down into a small four-inch pipe, which went down to the cesspool (which was close to the bend in the road, about 1/4 mile away). With the pipe being so small, anything that fell down into the pit had the potential to block the flow.

In my experience using this type of bathroom, I got to witness a variety of things go down the willy hole that should not have. This included a full willy roll, a handheld video game and a pair of glasses. So while you’re sitting there be careful. Only what needs to go into the hole should go. Or someone has to go down into the willy to fetch the alien object out.

Since it doesn’t flush that explains the water conservation. But how does it bring togetherness?  Five or 10 people can be sitting together while doing their business.  They can have stimulating chats while attending to their needs.  Some of the chats I attended discussed buffaloes and gardening.

When I used to use one regularly, we had a camper who sat on his seat all day. He used to say, “Mitch, Mitch, come sit with me. We’ll s**t together.”  Many campers’ first memory of camp was relieving himself with him.

So in a day when we have people working to save our environment and bring people together, this is the perfect way to do so.

Saturday morning Marc woke up and went to shul. He’s been skipping it lately. Not thrilled with the congregation. But he walked in and all was well.  All the usuals were there.  In some ways when Ringling Brothers closed the circus, they moved it to his congregation.  Actually, they were there long before the circus closed.  Alana sat in the women’s section in her black skirt.

Marc was deep into his siddur.  He was thinking about the last few weeks.  They were not great.  The battles with Anat were getting to him. But he knew he had to keep people safe from her wrath.

The Torah reading completed. Marc got the third aliyah and made the appropriate donation.  Services concluded. He went downstairs to hear kiddish and quickly departed. Alana hung around.

He went home, ate and went to the park with his Star Wars and Incredible Hulk comics and Foreign Affairs.

Kids were running through the sprinkler. All was well.  Then he heard screams.  He figured a kid fell off the slidin’ pond.  He didn’t even take his eyes away from his book. The screams got louder and were from multiple voices.

He looked around. Much to his dismay, he saw flying raisins, apricots, and prunes.  Why? He muttered to himself.  He knew Anat would strike again. But why attack innocent people enjoying a quiet Saturday afternoon.

Marc put his books in his Yankees tote bag and made a mad dash from his table.  He saw his nemesis out of the corner of his eye.  He reached back and pomegranates started to fly and take out the dried fruit.  At first, Anat didn’t notice him. She just seemed bewildered when the raisins missed the targets. Then a huge piece of barely coated in honey slapped her right in the face.

She went nuts.  She saw Marc and charged after him.  Marc was on his own. Alana was nowhere to be found. But he wasn’t worried. The two volleyed back and forth with their weapons. Then Marc jumped over a bench and kicked her in the stomach. She went down. He unloaded honey all over her.  He refused to let up. He was screaming at her. He said he understood if she went after him, Alana and Jennifer. But why couldn’t she leave everyone else alone?  She laid on the ground in deafening silence.

 

Anat was left for the dead. She spent the night sprawled out on the curb where Marc and Alana left her. Her body ached. She was dehydrated. She had scrapes on her legs. She forced herself up. She hobbled over to a street vendor and purchased several bottles of water.

She fished into her pocket for her iPhone. At least she still had that. The battery was dead and her charger was home. She got herself to the train. The whole time she was in tears. She wasn’t sure if she was crying due to being beaten, her pain, her misery and the need to stop it.

She hopped onto the 5 and got off at 86 Street and walked to her apartment. As she walked in she was doused in wine and pomegranates. She fired back. However, the surprise caught her off guard.

For over twenty minutes they fought like cats and dogs.

Anat was panicking. She never does that. Alana and Marc were in rare form. Attacking a Morrissey show can create that.

Anat started firing back with raisins and apricots. But she kept missing and was destroying her walls.

Tears almost fell from her eyes.