Monday, July 25, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
"The first Doo Dah Parade was July 4th (rain date July 3rd) in the year of our Emperor 1984. It was slated to start at one o'clock from Goodale Park - then to meander through the neighborhood, through the drive-thru at White Castle, down High Street and back to the park. The UnOrganizers of the Parade were nervous; it was 12:30 and only a handful of participants had arrived. All that money spent on beer and security and two color posters - all for naught. But wait! Over the crest of the hill, a flash of light reflects off a tiara. A kazoo rings through the still summer air. Huzzah, they have come! Quick, before they change their minds, the parade takes off! Oh, but look at the time! It is only 12:40! Since the parade proves to be only twenty minutes long, those who arrive on time to witness this wondrous event missed it. A fitting start for a homage to the absurd and the silly and puncturer of the pompous and punctual.
Thus, in 1984, a year that also saw the beginnings of the Gallery Hop, the Doo Dah Parade was born. We did not originate the name or the concept, but we did make it our own. And kept it our own. We (actually Andrew Klein, attorney at law and tax preparer 614-299-6139) had the incredible foresight to register the Doo Dah name. So when Upper Arlington, a humorless realm of green front lawns, decided to usurp our fairly stolen concept and name - we sued 'em. Then the Emperor commanded and we obeyed and invaded and conquered 'em just in time for the 6 o'clock news - much to their chagrin and befuddlement.
The Parade has its roots in the deep need of every neighborhood to parade itself. It helps if you own a fire engine, because then you are halfway there already. Do it on the Fourth of July, throw in a few cute kids, their dogs and bikes, make everything red, white and blue and you have got it. Good, but could be better &endash; what about all those people who inhabit the deep dark drinking dens; wouldn't it be a hoot if they were coaxed out into the daylight at high noon, blinking, their pallid skin blindingly white, turning quickly to deepest red (which of course makes them blue). And all those people with an opinion about everything, and all those people who deep down just wantto be noticed, and all those people who like to watch all of the above. And its all free as in freedom, as in come on down and feel free to join in, join up. Past years have treated us to the Beer Belly Brigade, Marching Fidels and Flamingos, men in tights, transvestites, kazoos, a tuba, lawn mowers, golf carts, political satire, bad taste, red, white and blue dogs, weird bicycles, Gandhi on roller skates, the Pope and a potbellied pig, in case you are looking to steal some inspiration."
The National Association for the Advancement of Colorful Old Hippies
Sunday, June 19, 2011
“In the summer following high school I made the ‘let’s-see-how-tough-you-are-kid’ scene at a place called Outward Bound in Oregon.
Tuesday, August 16, 1966: Up at 5:30am to climb mountain on a breakfast of tea and honey. No exultation at reaching peak; if you decide to turn around ten yards short of the top I’d consider it a twenty-yard shortcut and fine with me.”
“No, I have no statement to make at this time, except I’m still on the waiting list in a lot of ways.”
“My friends and I became preoccupied with the common nostalgic assertion that ‘these are the best years of your lives’. We could accept the fact that the college years are exhausting, confusing, boring, troubles, frustrating and meaningless – that we could take in stride; we’d seen hard times before. But that everything subsequent would be worse was a concept difficult to grasp and, once grasped, impossible to accept.”
“I went home to my apartment and my roaches. The roaches are a bit of a problem. We each have our areas. I have my corner, and they have the rest of the apartment. Except they always come into my corner.”
“A university is not a democratic institution,’ Professor Deane began, ‘When decisions begin to be made democratically around here, I will not be here any longer.
Commenting on the importance of student opinion to the administration, Professor Deane declared, ‘Whether students vote ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on an issue is like telling me they like strawberries.’
I like strawberries”
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
After many delays and an uncomfortable traveling experience, I was so happy to find a little stand in the Hokkaido airport that sold containers of sushi. It was an unusual breakfast for me, but to the Japanese much more usual. The fish was very fresh though and with the rice actually made an excellent breakfast the was gentle on the stomach. Cost: $11.30.
The next day, I did some sightseeing in Tokyo. I was not very hungry that morning, so I avoided the big American style buffet in the hotel. Instead, I got a cream puff in the subway. It was warm from the oven with a seriously rich cream filling. I stood in the subway, making a mess of myself from all the powdered sugar and started to really enjoy this trip. Cost: $0.80.
I went to an old section of Tokyo called Asakura. After a few hours of walking around, I was very hungry but a bit unsure where to eat. I strayed a bit from the tourist areas and found a narrow street lined with tiny restaurants. None of them had any signs in English, so eventually I picked one at random and sat down. This place was tiny. They had about ten seats total plus a small bar in front of the kitchen. The kitchen was the smallest restaurant kitchen I have every seen. Everything needed to be coordinated so the three people in the kitchen did not knock each other over. The cook was stationed by a small stove tucked in the corner. A woman washed dishes at a small sink right next to the stove. A steep stairway led upstairs to what likely was storage. A few shelves held bottles of saki. They seemed a bit surprised that a westerner had come to dine with them, but they quickly had a menu in my hands. The menu had a bit of English, combined with limited English spoken by the waitress. I told her to make me something good. A little while later they delivered chicken on skewers with a sweet teriyaki sauce, accompanied by a cold Asaki beer. Cost: $6.00.
The next day, in downtown Tokyo I want to a local noodle shop with my work colleagues for lunch. Noodle shops are great and I wish we had something like it in the US. I ordered a Golden mushroom soup. You sup the broth with a large broad ceramic spoon and eat the noodles with chopsticks. You can see by the picture that it was good. Cost: about $10.
That night I flew to Shanghai, China. I stayed in a small Chinese hotel and I think I was probably the only Westerner there. The front desk staff spoke no English, but the rooms were only $32 a night. In the morning there was a breakfast buffet set up that consisted entirely of Chinese foods. No bacon, eggs, and hash browns. There was no coffee, in fact there were no drinks at all. There were steam dumplings, vegetables, noodles, rice noodles and fruit slices. It was a simple but good breakfast, of course eaten with chopsticks. Cost: Free, included in the price of the hotel.
The next day I had the chance to spend a couple hours in Shanghai, exploring the Yu Garden area. While exploring alleyways a bit outside the tourist area, I stumbled upon a street lined with outdoor food vendors. There were so many choices, but I was drawn to a man making fresh bread turnovers stuffed with turnip greens, onions, and spices. They were cooked over a propane flame in a big covered flat pan. Fresh and steaming, I hope to learn to make these myself. Cost $0.40.
A little while later I stopped by the JR Dumpling shop because I was still a bit hungry. The shop was tucked under a staircase in a little alcove. It was piled high with stacked steaming baskets over boiling water. There were many different varieties, but all the signs were in Japanese. So, I selected at random. Inside was a spiced meat that was tasty. No better than the frozen dumplings I buy in Columbus, but good for the price. Cost $0.80.
Walking from work to the hotel the next day I stopped by a woman cooking potstickers at the side of the road. These dumplings were being made fresh, boiled then fried. A line of people were waiting to be served, which is always a good sign. They came with a sweet soy sauce which made it possible to eat all eight. Cost $0.75
That night was my last night in China and I decided to go to a Chinese restaurant (hah!). I went to a very busy place that had about thirty tables, all full. The menu was all in Mandarin, but there were pictures. I picked out Ma La Tofu and a hot and sour soup. They arrived at my table covered in red spicy peppers. It was so hot I could not eat it. My stomach turned to fire and I started worrying about vomiting. I ate a bit, washed it down with a cold beer and headed for the door. I was worried that I would offend them by eating so little, but they did not care. They were happy that I got up so they could seat the next customer. Cost: $4.35.