Uncategorized – Page 9 – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

How fake news ruins national holidays

Staten Island Chuck 2-2-21 Where’s the snow?

We all have heard the term fake news. Probably it has been said too much. To some extent all news is fake and all is true. It depends on the opinion of the outlet producing the news. Opinions differ. News reported via straight facts is of a higher caliber.

I remember sitting in my grad class, “Politics and Public Opinion” at CUNY-Brooklyn College. The professor used several examples, abortion and gun control were his key ones. He went on to discuss how the NRA, the Pro-Choice and Pro-Life groups have the ability to shape public opinion. We had a discussion about what most Americans probably feel about these topics. Then he discussed how these groups use their finances, survey data and other items to shape public opinion. At the same time, I was taking this class, I was taking, “Statistical Concepts.” We learned how surveys are created and how the survey takers choose the audience it polls. That being said, all news can be fake or real.

I will leave you to make your choice on what news to follow and how you will ingest it. Now let’s discuss how fake news or “Hollywood news” ruins a major holiday. About a week ago we had the opportunity to celebrate Groundhog Day, the holiday that sparked a hilarious movie starring Bill Murray, which subsequently was turned into a Broadway play.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been celebrating this grand day for several decades. I grew up on Staten Island, home of Chuck G. Hogg, NYC’s only groundhog and America’s most accurate prognosticator. I love ‘ya Punxsutawney Phil. But you’re second to Chuck.

For years, I went to the Staten Island Zoo to celebrate in person and wait for Chuck to make his prediction. The zoo was quite festive. We had donuts, hot chocolate, bagels, etc. The local news stations came to record the prediction. What could be better? Nothing. Years ago, I moved. Now I watch the prediction on the Zoo’s website.

Sadly, my current borough Queens doesn’t have one. In the 90s former Queens Borough President Claire Schulman said it did. It was a prairie dog. SI BP Guy V. Molinari came out swinging for Chuck. A few cute news stories ran. Chuck garnered more attention.

Chuck has had his share of controversy. One year he bit former Mayor Michael Bloomberg. The next year Hizzoner returned wearing thick gloves. All was well. A few years later, Mayor DeBlasio dropped the groundhog. It passed away shortly after.

This year, we suffered a blizzard the day before. For the first time in years, most of the city was closed due to snow. Now due to COVID-19, the festivities were supposed to be virtual. Meaning zoo officials would wait for Chuck to come out of his slumber and tell us if he saw his shadow.

At 8 a.m. I logged onto the Zoo’s website and was treated to a wonderful display of historical facts about our beloved groundhog and his holiday. The video went on to talk about other attractions at the zoo, which is open. Then did a countdown to going live to the prediction. To me, this was more exciting than the countdown on New Year’s Eve.

The zoo claimed it went live. Anyone watching could tell it was pre-recorded. There was no snow on the ground. We had over a foot the day before. The zookeepers and the sponsor of the event were dressed for spring. They were already holding an early spring sign before Chuck emerged from his burrow.

It was very sad. There were many comments on the Zoo’s social media pages. Several media outlets penned stories. The Zoo declined to comment. How will we ever know what Chuck said?

2-2-21 Snow?

Jerry’s birthday

Anat was planning a small socially distanced party at Central Park. She would order a few pizzas, ice cream and take everyone to the park’s zoo. She figured the small crowd would enjoy seeing the grizzly bears and other animals. She wasn’t a fan of zoos. She’d rather the animals be free. But she knew the kids would be happy. She invited Ben. Which of course, meant Jen would be present. The two were friendly now and their friendship was getting stronger. She was going to see if she could get Spiderman or the Hulk to show. She wondered why when she could easily get Pomegranate Boy, Wine Lady and Dried Fruit Girl. But she knew those superheroes had to remain disguised forever. Or as long as she, Alana and Marc could do so. Dan’s nephew would be there.

Jerry was happy. But disappointed he often wondered about the other kids in the shelter he was forced to live in till Anat rescued him. She rescued him in many ways. Of course, Jerry rescued Anat, too.
Jerry’s young mind wondered if he could free all the kids and find them good places to live. He hasn’t seen anyone since he left. He wanted to. But knew he probably never would.

Jay was now living in Central Park. He camped out not far from Strawberry Fields. He fired glass at people as they strolled the park. He was waiting for the right moment. He wanted his kid back. Diane his wife was released from prison. She went back to the roach-infested dump she shared with Jay. She promised herself to stay clean and find a job. She enrolled in some online classes.

Marc and Alana got the invite to Jerry’s party and planned to show. Alana’s heart melted. Marc’s did, too. But they knew their roles. Alana had a skirmish with some nutjob in the train station. He was acting up and tried to push people. She jumped right in and sprayed him with wine and hit him with so many apples that he fell on the platform. She scurried out, while the NYPD raced down the stairs to cuff him. Alana texted Marc about her incident at the subway station. The two figured they had to be on guard for more craziness.

Pandemic Watch: Shopping before a predicted snowstorm

Writing while watching the snowfall. Coming down heavy it is. For the first time in a while to weather reporters got it right.

Naturally, the supermarkets were quite busy the day before. Maybe you’ve read my piece, “Grocery Shopping during COVID-10. Or anytime.”

Of course, whenever a storm is predicted sound or not sound-minded people go into panic mode. I didn’t I was expecting my FreshDirect delivery. The afternoon of Sun., Jan 31 I received a voicemail from it alerting me that all next day deliveries were canceled due to the pending storm.

It said you could reorder for your next delivery date or choose a new date. That’s not the case. Their normal amazing customer care hit the brakes.

Knowing I wasn’t getting my normal weekly delivery was not the end of the world. I bundled up and walked two or three blocks to Key Food. I often wind up there for the stuff I run out of before my next delivery or forget to order. I didn’t need much. I did need milk. Of course, that’s what people always rush to buy to weather calamities. Some people must have it for their coffee. I need it for my Frosted Flakes. I wondered for a split second if the supermarket would have any left. If it didn’t I could eat the cereal dry or eat Oreos for breakfast. Done it before. Will do it again. The short answer if you don’t have milk during the snow day, you will live.

The supermarket was moderately busy. I walked straight back to the dairy section and saw many containers of milk. I grabbed mine. And picked up a few other items. I wasn’t trying to replicate my FreshDirect order. I just decided to get a few things. Some fruit, corn-on-the-cob, an essential, as today is Ground Hog Day. Staten Island Chuck G Hogg, NYC’s only groundhog and his brethren include corn in their diet.

My order was rather small in comparison to what so many others were placed into their shopping cart.

This does beg the question was Sunday their usual grocery-shopping day or was it panic mode? A mix of both I suspect. Key Food certainly made more money than a usual Sunday.

The one thing that is always humorous is watching people shop during these days. They go aisle by aisle and look at and often grab everything they say. Why? That’s the age-old question. Do they think they will never be able to get apples, juice, onions or pretzels again? Are there families large enough to eat the fresh food right away? Or will they toss out all the fruit and veggies they loaded into their grocery cart?

Just a few months ago people were stockpiling boxes of Ronzoni, canned goods, a bag of snacks and toilet paper. Did they run out? Did they not learn how to create rations?

The line checkout line was rather long. Key Food deserves credit for rapidly getting their customers checked out.

Ultimately, I’m still not sure why the craze is necessary. I’m having a tougher time without being able to attend baseball games, Broadway, concerts and traveling. But am surviving.

Prior posts are here.

Pandemic Watch: Keeping it clean

https://wp.me/p8mDRF-km

Life through a wide-angle lens

Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges, Nikon 10mm-24mm

We are all storytellers. We’ve all heard that line since birth. Some of us spend our lives telling stories, through dance, fiction, non-fiction, song and theater.

Whitehall Street bound Staten Island Ferry, Sigma 150mm-600mm

We’ve heard stories from U2 in “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “Bullet the Blue Sky.” Of course, like Paul Simon, “I got a Nikon camera I love to take a photograph.” We know the story Simon’s telling. Or “I take pictures. Photographic pictures,” Depeche Mode. We know the amazing stories the guys from Basildon have been telling. Stories to live and cry by.

Coney Island Beach with Luna and Deno’s Park, Nikon 10mm-24mm

Many of you have seen my photos. If you haven’t check my Instagram accounts, personal and TMR Scout Museum. Ansel Adams or Robert Mapplethorpe I’m not. But I’ve gotten thousands of likes and views on mine. Yeah, I am sure they’d get more. I will keep trying to reach their level. I’d love to have their subject matter Andy Warhol, Peter Gabriel, Patti Smith and Yosemite National Park.

Flowers by Jackie Kennedy Onasis Reservoir, Nikkor 50mm

Telling a story through photography is amazing. It is how you tell it that makes it fun. Creating the story is challenging.

I once took a photo class where we had to shoot for one week the same way. We had the option of using the same lens, lighting, settings, subject matter, etc. I chose to use the same lens. I picked a Nikkor 50MM F1.4. It is an amazing lens. To continue Simon’s lyrics, “They give us those nice bright colors.”

Thunderbolt at Luna Park, Sigma 150-600mm

And its major benefit is shooting in low light situations. Great for capturing bands in a dive bar. If only we could go back to those. My challenge presented by this lens is framing the shot. I had to be able to properly measure the subject matter from the lens. That’s always been challenging. I chose to take the challenge with a fixed focal length lens. It is tougher to frame your shot this way.

Weird Wolves streaming performance, screen shot Macbook

I didn’t want the option to zoom in and out. Too easy. Those lenses have other challenges. I have two. One is bigger than me. And probably weighs more. On a sunny day, it is fun to stroll parks along the East and Hudson Rivers. Even better a cloudy day on the Coney Island Boardwalk. Or get a great shot of everyone’s favorite cruise boat, the Staten Island Ferry sailing from St. George, Staten Island to Whitehall Street, Manhattan.

Lately, I am finding the best stories come via a wide-angle lens. I love the way it captures the whole story. Outdoor Photography’s website has an amazing YouTube video on the best way to shoot with your wide-angle lens. It is so much fun to hang by the East River and capture the Brooklyn, Manhattan and Williamsburg Bridges. Or just a nice shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. What makes it so special is you get the whole bridge, the river and if you shoot in a certain direction, everyone’s favorite highway the BQE.

You also can capture the medicinal waters at Coney Island, the sandy beach and the Cyclone and Wonder Wheel.

Coney Island beach with the parachute jump & Luna Park, Nikkor 10-24mm

You get the picture. We have the ability to zoom in and out on great moments, capture images in different situations and see how they changed based on lighting, weather and of course the mood of the photographer. That goes into the subject matter, camera settings and photo edits.

Jackie Kennedy Onasis Reservoir, Nikkor 50mm

This is the story of life. No matter whether you choose your camera, pen (maybe keyboard these days), voice or all. Whatever mechanism you use tells your story. Ultimately, your eyes and soul are capturing the story. They are the real camera or script.

Tell it well.

Cruising the highway

Jay was making good time in his stolen truck. Safely he drove and kept within the speed limits. He had no identification. If he got pulled over and fingerprinted his ID would light right up and he’d be back in handcuffs. Of course, he always managed to escape.

Marc was sitting on top of a bus singing “Pulling mussels from the shell.” The bus should be pulling into the Port Authority Bus Terminal any minute now. He would jump off and swipe his MetroCard for the E subway line.

Alana was starting to go crazy. She was slowly starting to worry about her pomegranate boy. She knew she couldn’t be without him. She’d beat him when he walked in. She has no problem with him skipping town for a few days, but she needed to know where he was and when he was coming home.

Anat had a wonderful Tu B’Shevat Seder with Jerry. She cried a little thinking about the ones her grandparents use to conduct. They always gave her extra dried fruit. Jerry loved it, too. But he seems to have developed a special liking to olives. He loved to eat them. He loved dipping his fingers into the oil.
And always smiled when Anat put them into his salads. He was getting bigger and stronger.

Marc exited the E train and was walking down Queens Boulevard. As he approached the door to his residence he was splattered in wine. He was hit square in the head with figs. He saw Alana standing at the open door firing away. He didn’t want to shoot honey at his honey. But he had no choice. He walked in firing away and grabbed her. The two held each and kissed for what seemed like hours. Then Alana screamed at him. He understood. He explained his encounter with the Woodsman. She understood his craziness with following the lore of his leaders. So she just smiled and poured some wine into glasses. The two raised a glass to their continued craziness and love.

Anat took Jerry to Central Park he was running around like a typical little boy. An older kid pushed him. He fell down and cried. Anat ran over and picked him up. She knew kids are kids. She had no plans to fire her weapons on a boy who was about five or six.

Jerry got up and ran over to the kid that pushed him. The kid laughed at him. Jerry smiled. The kid smiled back. Was he trying to make peace?

Socks

There are White Sox. Not a fan. There are Red Sox. Can’t say anything positive about them. They exist for the Bronx Bombers to beat. Then there are white socks. The kind you wear with your sneakers, train in and just wear when strolling about the city. There are black socks that are also designed for this. Then there are business socks. The kind you wear with your dress clothes. They can be black, brown, navy and other colors. The standard is usually black. All socks come in different lengths, whether they be knee-highs or ones that don’t show. Of course, there is the famous old school Boy Scout socks with the garters or with the red band on top of the thick green sock. The new ones are boring. They just say BSA in black at the very top.

Then there are missing socks. The question is where do they go? Thanks to my grandmother who was the Thom McCann Jox Sox queen, over the years, I’ve learned quite a bit about socks and shoes. I have enjoyed some shoes.

Like most people, I do a load or two of laundry each week. Before COVID-19, I always brought my clothes to the cleaners and had them done. Now laundry is entertainment. Sad world we live in. On that note, years ago, I used to be “Laundry Boy” in a prior apartment complex.

Now that I am back doing it, I am reuniting or trying to reunite socks. They always seem to go missing from a load of laundry. I am always happy when I put it away if they all match up. And I mean properly match up. The right size, opening for your foot, store logo, etc. Usually the Gap for me. All too often, I found socks that are similar but not exact.

Sometimes a sock stays in the laundry bag and doesn’t make it to the washing machine. Or never made it to the laundry bag and basket. It winds up on the floor underneath.

Sometimes when transferring from the washer to the dryer it can get dropped on the floor. To combat that I take things one by one from machine to machine. Once things are in the dryer, I leave the laundry room, listen to music and do a variety of things.

I watch the clock. When the dry time concludes I race back to the laundry room to take it upstairs. I fold my apparel and put it away. I pair my socks. But often some socks remain single. They are looking for their mates. Due the lack of real entertainment such as going to ‘Da Bronx to watch the Red Sox get beaten, I’ve tried to reunite socks.

I’ve emptied the sock drawers from by bureau and separated them all. I carefully looked at each one and paired the proper ones together. For some, there were no pairs. They sit on top of the bureau and wait for reunification. Sometimes after doing laundry I reunite a pair.

Last Wednesday, I reunited not one, but two pairs. A glorious morning.

As I was typing this, I was doing laundry. I am happy to report that all laundered socks were paired. None were missing.

Happy socks.

Marc returns

Marc spent the next morning roaming the camp. He went to the bog, Rock Lake, the sawmill, swimming hole and remnants of dining halls and latrines. He spent some time at the dam where he, Alana and Anat had an earlier battle with Jay. The first place where he was arrested.

Marc thought a lot about his encounter with the Woodsman. He had to get back to the city and hang with Alana and his other cronies. He did have a wall to break. That would take time. But break it he will.

Marc hiked out of camp and back to the bus station. He jumped on top of the bus. He rode right into the Port Authority Bus Terminal and jumped on the E subway line to get back to Queens.

Alana was sitting at home. She was getting nervous. She knew Marc was likely fine. She missed him. She went to her parents in Sheepshead Bay. She hasn’t been there in a while. All was well on 13th Street. They grabbed roast beef sandwiches at Brennan and Carr and sat in their sauna-like apartment and argued with each other. But the arguments would be silly. Of course, they’d tell her to wear some other color but black. They’ve been telling her that since the sixth grade. They would tell her to marry Marc. They’ve been saying that for decades. Her parents didn’t understand kids. Funny, Marc and Alana are too old to be kids. But to their parents’ kids they shall be.

Jay also traveled back to the city. He stole a car from a used car lot. It had no plates on it. He found plates on a flatbed truck in the lot. The facility looked dormant. COVID-19 probably kept people away. He figured he could get away with it. He would ditch the car when he got to the city and travel by foot. His long hair and beard should disguise him.

He kept within the speed limit and didn’t drug up before he got behind the wheel. Judas Priest was blasting. Anat was taking Jerry to the park. She wished Broadway would reopen. She wanted to take him to kid’s shows. He loved watching the “Lion King” and other movies on Disney+. He’s still a little young for Broadway. But she remembers the shows her grandparents got her tickets to see. The ones where she got to color and be part of the show. She usually shied away from being part of the show. Most of the kids didn’t want to play with her. She took Jerry to the Guggenheim. He’s a little young for that, too. Sadly due to the virus they didn’t have the children’s art programs going. She wanted him to sit with the other kids and work with an instructor to draw the Monets, Cezzannes and Picassos. She wanted his worldwide open. She still had to test him to see what powers he had.

Right now, he was just a quiet, fun good little boy. The world was waiting for him to break loose.

Marc sees the light or does he?

Jay was continuing to prepare for his re-entry into society. It was going to be grand and deadly.

Meanwhile. Alana was freaking. She still hasn’t heard from Marc. She didn’t tell anyone he was missing. She didn’t even know if he was. Just because he didn’t respond doesn’t mean he’s missing. But she was concerned.

Marc just finished a long hike from the bagel store to the Sullivan Catskills region. He rode the bus for part of it. Marc hates buses. And now with the virus, he’s more worrisome. So he rode on top of the bus. No one noticed. The ride took him to Tusten. He jumped off the bus. And hiked. And hiked.

He wound up in his holy place. His summer camp. He walked up to a picturesque area. It was too grown in. He Sat down on the dry ground and said a prayer. But not one based on his religion. But rather what they said at induction ceremonies while camping.

His phone was still fully powered and overwhelmed with messages from Alana. He was missing her. But he was in no mood to be around anyone. He had to mediate. Nowhere was better than the venue he was now at. He only wished this part was still operational. Sadly the people that run the place are illiterates.
Friday night fell. Marc had nothing for Shabbos. He cared and he didn’t. He built a small fire and sat by it. The hours grew later. The birds were singing. He saw some other animals wander around his makeshift campsite.

He shut his eyes. But didn’t sleep. He heard the birds singing louder. Then he heard the sounds of a herd of buffalo. He was aghast. He knew the Woodsman was lurking. He hadn’t seen him since he, Alana and Anat were in a different section of the camp plotting their takeout of Jay.

Marc braced himself. It was very unheard of to see him more than once a decade. He was very mysterious. He was also very busy. He had to watch over the facility, which was in dire need of dozens of repairs. He had been working on them for decades. But had to tend to his garden.

Marc stood up. The Woodsman placed his hand on his shoulder and looked straight into Marc’s hazel eyes. Marc stood strong. But felt his knees tremble.
The Woodsman backed up and started to feed the fire. Marc watched. The Woodsman pulled out his iPhone. Marc had no service on his. The Woodsman’s was perfect. He pointed to the wi-fi router he installed near the site of an old dining hall, which was torched by the “rocket scientists” that ran the camp. It took the Woodsman about 10 years to install the router.

He played Marc greetings from his rabbi in the Old City in Jerusalem. They were short but monumental. Then the Woodsman offered Marc a bottle of ice-cold Genesee Cream Ale and a box of Freihoffers Chocolate Chip Cookies. They clinked their bottles and sipped. When they finished, standing by the fire, the Woodman addressed Marc.

“Marc. I have only done this type of private meeting once before. Oddly enough, that was many years ago… It was on this site. The young lad I addressed grew into one of the people you admire most of all. I know how much you learned or as some of you like to say “leeeeaaarrned” from him. Think deep. That girl loves you. I know you love her. You two will never marry. Just carry on the way you are. You heard what the man from the Old City said. His words speak true. Stay true to yourself. Don’t worry about the crazies. They are destructive. But mostly to themselves. Stay on the clear path.”

Marc felt relieved. He was very impressed that the Woodsman met with his guide. He wondered where they sat.

Marc disappears

Marc woke up early and noticed some water spilled on the floor of the kitchen. Alana was doing laundry. Perhaps water dripped from the laundry she was carrying up to dry. They didn’t dry much in the dryer. Marc and Alana took turns doing laundry and air-dried as much as possible. They were low on paper towels. A new shipment was FreshDirect was en route.

Marc was about to start morning services when he realized his talit, which he draped over himself would be a perfect towel. He thought about it for a second. He was getting fed up with the phoniness of religion. He feared things. But not a supernal being. He needed proof of its existence. To date, he’d received none.

Alana came upstairs with the clothing that came out of the dryer. She rubbed a towel on Marc’s face. She knew he’d love the warmth. He smiled and said he go pick up bagels.

Marc left and started walking to the store. He was enraged by the people traveling on electric scooters. Some environmental mess people say helps with sustainability. One almost hit him. The driver was too busy texting and was blasting country music out of his earbuds. Marc was normally calm in these situations. However, he fired a battery of pomegranates at the scooter rider. The rider fell right down. Marc laughed and walked to the bagel store.

Meanwhile, Jay was still in Buffalo preparing his return. His beard grew longer. He got dirtier. He was getting higher. In his mind, he thought he was the king of the world. That’s just the drugs talking to him. He had no way to communicate as he left his phone in the police car he escaped from.

Alana was waiting for Marc to come back with the bagels. She took out orange juice and some vodka to pour in. She texted him to pick up a few other things. No response. Quite unusual. He hated being on his iPhone. But always quickly wrote back to those he knew that reached out to him. He did his best to block the spammers.

Marc was still pissed at the scooter rider. He noticed a few others riding onto grass, tossing their cigarette butts onto the ground. He walked up to the front door of the bagel store. He was about to go in. Then he turned around and kept walking. Hours later Alana was freaking. He answered nothing. This was not like him.

Everything is normal, or is it?

Marc just got back from morning prayer services. He had no clue why he still went. But continued to attend. He was hopeful. But at the time discouraged. Alana was toasting bagels to the tunes of Duran Duran. They were trying to find Jay. This was their obsession.
Anat and Jen set up a play date for Jerry and Benjamin. Anat wanted her kid to have friends and be fairly normal in society. Between the background and former situations of the two of them that was going to be tough. But tough Anat is. The ladies and kids showed up by Riverside Park. The two women made casual conversation, while the kids kicked around a soccer ball. Jen was one of the few who knew of Anat’s powers. Of course, she knew of the other two’s. They saved her engagement at Coney Island and with the help of a herd of the mighty buffalo saved her wedding.
The kids were getting along. They ran over to their moms for lunch. The ladies each brought sandwiches. All Jerry wanted were brownies for dessert. Anat searched and searched. She couldn’t find any. She couldn’t even find brownie mix to bake her own. She promised him next time. She did have a thermos full of ice-cold milk for him to drink with his peanut butter and jelly. And of course, she had boxes of raisins. Playtime was nearing an end. The kids and ladies made their goodbyes and went home.
Jay was emerging from his cave in of all places in Buffalo, NY. He was quite hairy. He grew a long beard. He figured he could hide out in Buffalo. The only problem was despite the virus the city would be busier with the upcoming Bills playoff game. He knew there would be extra law enforcement. But he also knew they’d be closer to Bills Stadium in Orchard Park. He was planning to keep moving. Eventually, he’d get back to NYC to take back Jerry. Diane was still imprisoned. Her release date was nearing. He had no interest in going back to his wife. He had no cares about her being released or staying in jail.
He was getting angry when he saw people driving their cars towards the stadium. He began to shoot glass at the tires. But he quickly stopped. He wanted to continue to lay low. He was planning a great emergence and needed time to plan.