One figure who shows up on a regular basis every Christmas holiday season is of course Santa Claus.
This jolly rotund character with his bag of goodies is much beloved by small children but also detested by others, and not by just financially challenged parents.
Santa as we know him today took his latest iteration back in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Thomas Nast drew several images of Santa helping out the Union cause as a morale booster. His rendition of the old figure of Saint Nicholas was quickly seized upon by businesses booming from the Industrial Revolution, eager to sell their mass produced wares to a growing middle class which could afford them. Santa Claus as gift bringer was seemingly tailor made just for them. They’ve been running with it ever since.
But Santa Claus is based on a much older figure.
He went by a variety of different names: Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, depending on which country you look at. He was usually dressed in long green or red robes (though the picture above shows him in white) and in some countries was dressed as a bishop with miter and staff. He personified the spirit of Christmas with peace, revelry, good food and yes, gift giving though not to the demented level we see now.
The actual Saint Nicholas was a Greek Christian bishop of the 4th century, noted for his generosity to the poor. He was so highly venerated legends quickly attached to him after his death and his remains drew enough pilgrims so that during the Middle Ages rapacious Italian merchants filched his remains and built their own church in Bari Italy for housing them. The mania during that time for relics of any kind led to poor Saint Nicholas undergoing the indignity of having his bones divided up between several churches each determined to have a piece of the guy. His legend rapidly expanded, becoming very popular throughout Europe. In each country his stories were blended with fragments of older pagan beliefs and resulted in some peculiar iterations of the venerable Christian saint.
In parts of Europe, particularly Germany, Saint Nick would make visits distributing good cheer and small gifts. But he didn’t come alone. Accompanying him was a very sinister looking figure known as Krampus.
Krampus is the antithesis of Saint Nicholas. His focus is on naughty children. Nowadays youngsters are told if they are bad, they will either not get any presents or be gifted a nasty lump of coal. That’s actually a pretty wimpy threat. Krampus goes way further than that. If you were a naughty child, you could expect a visit from Krampus who would grab you, stuff you into his sack and haul you off to a ghastly fate, never to be seen again. Parents were evidently okay with their kids being traumatized with fear if it meant they would behave.
The Krampus figure can be found in various forms around Europe usually in association with mid-winter festivals clustered around the solstice. He usually follows Saint Nicholas about as he makes his rounds, though on occasion he appears on his own. Santa rewards the good little children while Krampus disposes of the bad ones. Krampus is often portrayed looking like a demon with horns, leering face and definitely bad teeth, as befits his role.
Perchten are sometimes very similar and are thought to be derived from the worship of Frau Perchta, a witch-like goddess, again making an appearance during the dark months of the year. They’re not usually associated with Santa Claus, having their own celebrations. Rather than being totally sinister like Krampus, these beings seem instead to be divided between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ perchten, perhaps representing the conflict between the light and dark portions of the year. Performers dressing up as perchtan wore a wild variety of costumes ranging from fantastically enormous headdresses to the more familiar masked demons.
In recent years there has been a surge of interest in both Krampus and Perchten, with the two often being confused because of their similarities. Clearly any attempts made by religious authorities, both Catholic and Protestant, to suppress any pagan remnants in European culture over the centuries were in vain as their modern manifestations are showing up alive and well, more and more in different celebrations attracting both tourists and locals. I can’t see the Covid epidemic suppressing this for very long. Along with the novelty of it all, there seems to be a hunger to turn away from empty consumerism and towards the revival of old pathways encapsulating both the brightness and the darkness of the season. Does this mean a decline any time soon in the mad, glitzy consumerism afflicting our times and a return to a simpler and more spiritual form of Santa and his companions embodying the Christmas season? Hard to say but I think once the worst is past, Krampus and his kin will likely resume trailing Saint Nicholas on his rounds for some time to come.
The first day of autumn landed on this past Tuesday at 9:30 AM just a few days after my 66th birthday. Usually the seasons seem to pass quite uneventfully from one to the next with only minor irritating glitches, soon forgotten. This past year though has definitely been a doozy.
It began of course with the advent of COVID-19. The reaction in the press was comparable to a nuke being dropped. The television news services tend to go over the top anyway, especially in recent years, but this has really been unprecedented. With so much information and mis-information flying around, it’s been hard to make sense of it all. But peering past all the hype and hysteria, it is possible to glean a few useful insights. COVID has a fairly low mortality rate overall but by the same token, it’s not something to take lightly. As a sixty-plus year old individual I am definitely taking precautions though I refuse to get into a lather about it. But how does the current epidemic stack up overall with pandemics of earlier years?
Looking back into the past, smallpox mortality rate was 30%, diphtheria 10% (though in young children it could be as much as 20%). Ebola runs very roughly about 50% and bubonic plague much the same. COVID seems to be just below 5% though statistics are still a little conflicting. Seasonal flu usually runs about .1%. What to do? Well, basically what they have been recommending: wear face masks in public areas, practice social distancing, do a lot of hand washing and recognize that epidemics, even the worst ones, will eventually run their course.
Then there were the ‘murder hornets’ arriving on our shores. These ghastly creatures are nearly two inches long with a stinger they can use over and over, unlike a honeybee which can only sting once. One victim likened it to being slugged in the jaw by Mike Tyson. It’s a pretty brutal critter. Given previous attempts to rid ourselves of invasive insects such as gypsy moths, Asian tiger mosquitoes, emerald ash borers, marmolated stink bugs, Formosan termites, fire ants and African bees, thing don’t look too promising. One can only hope that because of its size this in-your-face invader will be a little easier to track down and at least keep under control.
Then there’s the drought. While we’ve been able to avoid wildfires of the sort they’ve been having out west, still we are at risk. This past summer in New Hampshire has been the driest in several years. While southern New Hampshire has been the worst hit, here in the northern part of the state, it has been well over a month since any measurable rain has fallen.
A number of towns, including where I live, have begun ordering restricted water usage meaning no car washing, no lawn or garden watering, etc. Since it’s the end of the growing season here that’s not a big deal. The weather report promises a chance of rain next week but it likely will not put much of a dent in the deficit. If anybody knows how to do a rain dance, please step up to the plate and help out!
Now that a few frosts have hit, leaves are beginning to change color. It’s hard to say if the drought will affect the quality of the color. It’s still a bit spotty right now but will likely increase and peak in just a few short weeks. Then we will know better.
Autumn is usually a pretty decent time of year. The weather is not so torrid as during the summer. Mosquitoes have been squashed by the fall chill. If I time my morning walk right, I am likely to see some flocks of geese going overhead on their way south. While trick-or-treating will likely be canceled due to the COVID epidemic, ghoulish lawn decorations will no doubt go up to mark the arrival of Halloween.
But we’re not quite out of the woods yet. Unfortunately there will still be one final catastrophe to face before Thanksgiving. Yes, I mean the national election. Obviously the less said about that the better.
I very rarely watch the news these days as it’s too depressing. Old issues thought resolved have resurfaced demanding resolution. New issues are being created out of whole cloth at times apparently just for the sake of having something to scream about. This will all run its course as human events do. One of the reactions to the turmoil of current events is to turn to comfort food. Wikepedia defines comfort food as “food that provides a nostalgic or sentimental value … and may be characterized by its high caloric nature, high carbohydrate level, or simple preparation.”
What comfort food you favor often depends on where you lived and what you ate growing up. Pizza seems to loom large in many minds. Also burgers, mac and cheese, ice cream, chocolate and hot dogs are frequent choices among Americans. Around the world, comfort food takes the form of such dishes as rice puddings, herbed flatbread, moussaka and pierogies.
It seems to be something deeply embedded in us that prompts us to seek out food of this nature during times of stress. A scientist was being interviewed in a documentary by Nova about the violent eruption of Mount Pinatubo while he was at Clark’s Air Base. He described the harrowing situation as the volcano grew more and more violent. Noticing one of his fellow scientists had made up a batch of popcorn and was avidly devouring it, he expressed astonishment asking him why he was eating popcorn. “I always eat popcorn at this part of the movie.” was the response.
Popcorn is definitely one of the go-to foods when things seem to be getting out of hand whether it’s the result of an irritated volcano or rioting humans. My own personal favorite is of course ice cream. Fudge ripple, plain and simple, frequently shows up in my freezer in spite of its negative affect on my waistline. Popcorn sits up in the cupboard waiting for an appropriate moment to pull out the kettle, add ghee, pop it up and slather the results with butter and salt.
During the winter, the old stock pot will often come out and whatever chicken, turkey or beef bones I saved up in the freezer get hauled out and turned into broth.
Along with veggies I also add pasta, particularly when it’s poultry. The shapes vary according to my mood; spirals, bowties or alphabet. While not essential for good soup, they add a little extra something transforming it into excellent winter comfort food. Add a few saltine crackers and absolute perfection is achieved.
Pasta itself often serves as comfort food. Once in a while I will purchase large egg noodles, boil them up, add butter and salt and sit back with a large bowl. They get cooked the same way my late mother used to cook pasta, which is to say twice as long as the box calls for. I grew up eating pasta like this, thinking nothing of it and so got a bit of a shock the first time I ate it ‘al dente’. (Gah! They didn’t cook this enough!!)
An old family favorite is spaghetti goulash. According to my mother, when she originally began making this as a quick dish when my two older brothers were very small she used a canned tomato sauce for the base (either Franco-American or Chef Boyardee, I forget which). It went over well but she ran into a curious problem. Often, though not every time, one of my brothers would get sick to his stomach afterwards. Never both together and sometimes not at all. After this happened more than a few times she began to suspect the tomato sauce was to blame. So she switched to Campbell’s Tomato condensed soup with a few tablespoons of ketchup added. The issue vanished, so apparently the commercial sauce was a bit too spicy for my brothers delicate stomachs.
The recipe is as basic as it gets. Spaghetti gets boiled up (yes, twice the time the package of Prince spaghetti calls for), then three quarters pound of ground chuck gets fried up. I don’t add any butter or oil. The pan is heated medium high and the ground chuck gets stirred constantly until fully cooked. Then the tomato sauce with ketchup gets mixed in. Finally last but not least the cooked spaghetti is added. Nothing else gets put in and that includes any spices, much to the horror of an Italian girlfriend one of my brothers brought one time to dinner. ( No basil?? Gasp! No oregano??? Arghh!!). She disappeared after a while. Oh well.
The household I grew up in was largely spice and onion free as my father was adamantly opposed to them. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that the source of America’s eternal struggle with dyspepsia was those infernal spices. Onions were his bete noire (or so he claimed). So he refused to tolerate them. My mother would sneak in some onion when she made up beef stew, maybe a pinch of thyme in the turkey soup but that was about it. Nowadays, I am an avid onion user and generously toss in thyme and parsley into my chicken soup.
So whatever your favorite source of culinary comfort is, whip up a batch and sit back while eating. It will make the maddening crowd seem far away.
Unless you’ve been marooned for the
past three or four months on a deserted island, you’re no doubt quite
aware of the COVID-19 pandemic. Here in New Hampshire, the state
governor has issued a stay-at-home order where all non-essential
businesses such as retail stores, movie theaters, hair salons and
tattoo parlors (c’mon, folks. You can live without a new tat.) The
order will be in effect until May 4th, when presumably
this thing will have peaked and started to subside.
Many places have already voluntarily shut down. For the first time I have no problem finding a parking space on Main Street. Of course there’s no place to shop for non-essential goodies. While on-line shopping is still possible, I did get an email yesterday from Herrschners, an online store I occasionally buy cross-stitch material and jigsaw puzzles from, indicating new orders would not be shipped out until further notice. The state of Wisconsin, where they are located has issued a directive. Apparently someone thinks coronavirus can be shipped through the mail. (Sigh…) At least I’m all stocked up with projects.
The local churches have suspended services until further notice.
Someone thoughtfully put a little votive candle in a glass jar with a sign saying ‘Pray for USA.’
Now the title of this post is ‘The
Toilet Paper Crisis’ for good reason. Does anyone know where the
stuff went? I know people were panic buying, purchasing mass
quantities of the stuff (because it’s all about your needs, right? To
hell with everybody else.) I stocked up before hand after reading
warnings about possible panic buying and I’m glad I did. But I
suspect I will probably run out by mid-April. As long as a new supply
comes into the stores, that’s okay but so far I don’t see any sign of
that. Have the paper mills all shut down? Did all our toilet paper
come from overseas? Apparently no one has a clue what’s really going
on.
So until this mess starts to get
straightened out, what do we do in the meantime? What do we use
instead of toilet paper? Well, there are a variety of options, not
all of them for the germaphobic.
One solution is a bidet which looks a little like a cross between a toilet and a sink. You use it to wash your private parts after you use the toilet, though you will still need to dry yourself. Some bidets come with air dryers but that can run into some money. There are low tech choices, often used in third world nations, such as the tabo and the iota. If you are the frugal type, there are inexpensive mini-bidets for use when traveling which will accomplish the same purpose for less money. Adventurous types might want to try re-purposing items already in the home.
Reusable fabric wipes are available for
drying yourself once you’ve used any of the above. They just need to
be laundered afterwards. Those who are old enough to recall reusable
diapers no doubt remember the routine. While baby wipes are still
available, it is strongly advised to leave those for mothers who need
them. Also do not flush wipes down the toilet as they will clog up
sewage pipes.
Newsprint will work in a pinch as well
as sponges as long as you use the sponges for only this purpose and
clean them afterwards. Plant leaves can be used if nothing else is
available. Just don’t pick something you might be allergic to!
This crisis will pass as all
emergencies do but life being what it is, more may loom on the
horizon down the road. Learning alternatives to business as usual
will leave us better prepared for the next one.
Take care, all.
…………………………………………………………
A special note. I have sold another
short story to the magazineInto The Ruins, the
spring 2020 issue.
As mentioned in a posting earlier this summer, I am writing a magical realism novel, The Age Of Dionysus.The first rough draft is largely complete. Now comes the part of revision, adjusting plot lines, developing (or eliminating) characters. As the first draft has gotten rather long, I have started a process of diagramming the various plot threads to ensure continuity; making sure for example that plot development C happens after A and B, not before, making sure characters don’t make an appearance after they have been bumped off, or suddenly pop out of nowhere before they have been properly introduced. Plot inconsistencies can disrupt the narrative for readers, so diagramming is really essential in keeping track of everything.
The premise in the book is that gods and other supernatural beings are real. One god in particular, Dionysus drives the plot. He is convinced that theAge Of Iron is coming to a close and a new Golden Age is about to dawn. With that in mind, He intends to put Himself in a position where He will be the top divinity. However as often happens, the best laid plans of gods and men don’t always work out as intended. The novel details the effects His actions have on people and the world at large.
Below is an excerpt from early in the book which takes place in Manhattan. The character Jillian West is a young fashion model. Charles Belliers is a talent scout for the agency employing her. Belliers is also a sexual predator, who routinely harasses the models in the agency, secure in the knowledge that he won’t get fired because of ‘people he knows’. Belliers attempts to sexually assault Jillian but she is rescued when Dionysus (posing as a mortal) unexpectedly shows up. The excerpt picks up where Dionysus and Jillian leave.
Note: The wine Charles finds is
Maenad wine. In the novel, there are three levels of this wine which
are all highly intoxicating as they are laced with narcotics. Level
Three is the heavy duty stuff. Only highly trained Maenads are
supposed to touch this stuff. If you are not an initiate and drink
this…well….
Note: All characters are strictly
fictional and not based on real people. In other words if you think
Charles is based on you, please get psychiatric help. If you think
you are Dionysus, definitely get help!
Note: Text is rated ‘R’ for nudity and potty language.
“I’ll get you a
cab.” Said Dionysus as He and Jillian went back downstairs. “Do
you think you’ll be all right?”
“Only if that pig
doesn’t come after me. I don’t know how you knew I was in trouble but
thank you! Thank you!”
“Charles will be
having other problems before too long. He’s his own worst enemy in
the end. But I can promise you, you won’t need to worry about him
coming after you.”
“I hope you’re
right. That was no idle threat he made, you know. I don’t know if I
could file charges against him. It’s my word against his. I’d have to
fight the whole way and even then the case would probably get
dismissed.” She wiped angry tears from her face. “ Guys like him
always seem to get away with stuff and nobody does anything about
it.”
Now outside,
Dionysus flagged down a cab, paid the driver for her, then handed a
small business card to her.
“That’s my phone
number. If you have any problems, and somehow I don’t think you will,
just call me.”
“Thank you.”
She looked hesitantly up at him. “Will I be seeing you again
tomorrow?”
The smile on
Dionysus’s face was glorious, washing away all the terror she had
felt earlier.
“I can guarantee it.”
………………………..
Upstairs,Charles fumed as he zipped up his pants. This evening was a bust for sure. Would that bitch file charges? Sometime they did, sometime they didn’t. And how did that Greek prick get in here anyway? He was sure he had locked the door from the inside. Maybe he hadn’t fully latched it somehow. Looking at his hands he realized they were shaking not with rage but with terror. Dionysus had held him up like he was a kitten and hadn’t even broken into a sweat. How strong was that guy anyway?
More as a way to
distract himself than out of a sense of tidiness, he began picking up
the clothes rack. As he did so, he noticed a bottle of uncorked wine
with a gleaming wine glass beside it sitting on the table where
Jillian had stuck her drink. Where did that come from? He hadn’t
noticed Dionysus carrying anything. Had he put it there? Charles
could smell the wine tantalizing his nose. Going over, he poured half
a glassful and looked at it.
The strangely alluring wine was dark garnet. He sniffed at it. It smelled like wine and yet it didn’t. Against his better judgment he took a swallow. And almost immediately regretted it. He coughed and spluttered. What the hell was this shit? He looked at the label. The lettering was in Greek and the picture on the label showed a mosaic image of a naked guy riding a lion or something. Some local artisan brew maybe? He licked his lips and after a moment took another sip.
To his amazement, the second swallow was better. It still tasted like something burped out of the Okefenokee Swamp but it really wasn’t that bad. A fine patina of sweat began forming on his skin. He drank the rest of the glass trying to analyze the flavor. He fancied himself a wine connoisseur but this tasted like nothing he had ever drunk before. After a moment, he poured a second glass all the way to the top. By the time he finished it, he had forgotten about Dionysus. The third glass made him forget about Jillian. After the fourth, he tossed the wineglass and began drinking directly from the bottle.
By the time he polished off the last drop, a blinding insight came to him. What the hell were clothes for? All this high fashion stuff was pure shit. Why was he even wasting a moment of his time with this? After chucking the empty bottle into a waste basket,he began peeling off his clothes and was amazed at how much better he felt totally naked. He should have done this a long time ago! He started walking toward the door but the floor seemed to have acquired an annoying tilt. Staggering he grabbed at a mannequin but its arm came off and he nearly fell. Righting himself he stared at the mannequin’s arm for a moment. On impulse he used it to scratch first his back then his groin. He began giggling like a village idiot. This was fun! He was going to take it home with him.
Something about the locked door bothered him but he couldn’t remember what it was. But he finally got it open and padded out into the hall. Getting off the studio carpeting and onto the linoleum in the hall chilled his feet but he made up his mind not to whine about it. Isn’t that what you got calluses for? It was probably a nice evening and his apartment in New Jersey wasn’t that far so he decided to walk home.
Nathan Jackson sat in the security office reading a girlie magazine. He had seen Dionysus and Jillian leave on the security cameras. The sight made him sigh. There he goes again, this time with a hot redhead. All the girls were buzzing about this guy and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Some people had all the luck, he thought with gloomy envy, this Greek guy was a major chick magnet and he couldn’t even get the waitress at the restaurant to look twice at him. He buried his face deeper into the magazine. Two of the security cameras were out again, he’d have to do something about that. Engrossed in the centerfold he failed to notice the functional camera showing the talent agent strolling down the stairs. But the security office door was open so Nathan spotted Charles’ s naked ass out of the corner of his eye just as Belliers exited the building.
“Shit!” swore Nathan tossing down the magazine and sprinting out the door after him.
“Sir! Sir!” He
caught up with Belliers starting to make a right turn. Charles had a
mannequin’s arm propped on his shoulder. “It’s kind of chilly out
here. Don’t you think you better put a coat on?”
“What the hell
for?” Belliers glared at him affronted. The wine fumes he exhaled
made Nathan’s eyes water. “It’s a nice night. I’m walking home.”
The temperature
read 55 degrees Fahrenheit the last time Nathan looked at the
thermometer. This guy was definitely not feeling anything. The weird
thing was, he seemed to be sweating a lot.
“I really think
you should put something on, sir.” He took hold of Belliers’ arm,
trying to steer him back into the building. “You left your coat in
the cloak room. At least put that on.” There was a glazed mad look
in Belliers’ eyes that reminded Nathan of a YouTube video he had seen
showing a rabid raccoon.
Belliers ignored
him. Instead he began staring in fascination at the marquee canopy
shielding the entrance. He shook off Nathan’s hand.
“Hey! Look at the fucking trampoline!” He screeched like a kid. Before Nathan could stop him, he tossed the mannequin’s arm into Nathan’s face and began clambering up the side of the building, grasping the concrete facade indentations with his fingers and toes like a squirrel. Throwing aside the arm, Nathan lunged at him but although Belliers was in his fifties and overweight, he was shockingly nimble, evading the security guard’s attempts to grab his ankles.
It was at this critical juncture that the squad car containing Officers Joseph Burrows and Jacob Armstrong came cruising by. It was rookie Jacob’s first evening on the job. His field training officer Joseph had driven him around showing him the basics. They ticketed a few speeders but otherwise it had been quiet so Joseph spent most of the time telling Jacob his personal war stories. It was nearing the end of their shift.
“I think tomorrow
I’ll let you do the driving. Do you have any questions?”
“Um, yeah.”
Said Jacob looking out the car window at the fashion agency they were
driving by. “Why is that naked guy climbing up the building?”
“Aw shit.”
groaned Joseph. “Ok, here’s where it gets interesting.” He pulled
the squad car over to the curb. “Make sure your gun is tucked out
of sight. He’s probably drunk or high. The last thing we want is for
him to get hold of a gun, especially if he’s combative.”
“Right.” After
putting in a call to the dispatcher, they exited the car and
approached cautiously. By now Charles was balanced precariously on
the edge of the door canopy gauging how far to jump. The guy trying
to coax him down was building security. He noted Joseph and Jacob
nearing with obvious relief.
“He’s blotto and I can’t get him to come down. I’m calling 911, if that’s ok.”
“Fine.” said Officer Joseph, not taking his eyes off the nude guy who looked like he was getting ready to jump onto the canopy. “Hey, friend, you may not want to do that. I don’t think it’ll hold you.”
Belliers was in too
exalted a state to pay any attention to the annoying people shouting
at him from the sidewalk. The canopy seemed to ripple an invitation
to jump on it. With a joyous shriek he launched himself and landed
spreadeagled on the canvas. While it didn’t rip, it abruptly folded
around him and the entire canopy frame collapsed. The two officers
used the opportunity to jump on him and hold him down.
It turned out to be
more difficult than they thought. Belliers fought like a demon to
extricate himself from the canopy, swearing a blue streak the whole
time. Jacob and Joseph tried to use the canvas to hold the drunken
man in place but Charles had little trouble ripping through the
material. With regret, Joseph pulled out his taser and tried subduing
him. Belliers jerked a little from the zaps but otherwise seemed
unaffected. He didn’t even grunt but his flailing grew wilder.
By now two foot
patrol cops had shown up and added their muscle to the struggle. The
security guard joined in. Jacob’s jaw took a painful clip from the
drunk’s fist. There were five guys holding onto him but Belliers
still kept trying to get up. The wine fumes added a rank smell to the
air but the rookie began suspecting the subject was intoxicated on
more than just booze. The swearing was giving way to an incoherent
babbling that sounded like the glossolalia Jacob used to hear as a
kid at the evangelical meetings his parents attended.
“Shit! Watch it!” yelled one of the cops. “He’s pissing a bucket!”
A stream of urine soared into the air, spraying back and forth like a lawn sprinkler as Belliers continued struggling.
The ambulance
finally pulled up. Fortunately whatever alcoholic dynamo was powering
Charles began winding down and they were able to finally load him
onto the stretcher where the EMT’s firmly strapped him in place. As
the ambulance drove off, Jacob and Joseph looked mournfully down at
their urine soaked uniforms.
“He hosed us
pretty good, didn’t he?” Said Jacob.
“That he did,
little buddy.” replied Joseph shaking his head. “Good thing our
shift is just about over.”
“I wish ours
was.” said one of the street cops. Their uniforms were wet as well.
On the way back to
headquarters, they had to lower the windows to air out as much of the
remarkably pungent urine smell as they could.
“Well, that was
interesting.” remarked Jacob laconically putting on some nitrile
gloves they had in the car.
“That it was.” Replied Joseph, who then laughed. “Never a dull moment in the Big Apple, kid! Never a dull moment.”
