SECTION FOURTEEN
EMAIL PAGE ONE
sm
COLUMN
SIXTY-EIGHT, FEBRUARY 1, 2002
(Copyright © 2002 Al Aronowitz)
LONG LETTER HOME
Subject:
Long Letter Home
Date: Mon, 26 Nov 2001 06:45:03 -0800 (PST)
From: danny finley <dannyfinley@yahoo.com>
To: info@blacklistedjournalist.com
SOULFUL
TRIP REVIEWED: A LONG LETTER HOME
Nashville, December 17, 2000 - -
Got up last Friday to find a note from Carole Record at The Kaffeeklatsch in
Huntsville, AL, saying she's had a cancellation and could I come down.
Now
comes a very strange ritual: these guys ALL start ejecting their clips and
comparing the relative merits of the rounds therein. That is, this one will go through but leave a very large exit
hole, this one because of its relatively low muzzle velocity will go in and
start tumbling around various internal organs, whereas this other one, being not
only a hollow point but also scored on the outside will produce a very effective
shrapnel resulting in a fine, pink mist where there used to be a miscreant.
These fellows are very jolly about it all.
I decide not to make any sudden moves as I don't want a big hole or
scrambled organs, and the idea of being a fine, pink mist holds no appeal at
all.
I
can't believe that the lack of a felony conviction is the only prerequisite to
owning a cannon. D'ja ever notice
how Hell's Angels taken singly are just
But
I did get to observe one mama, delightfully tarted, every feature that could be
remotely interesting highlighted. Big
hair, ruby lips and rougy cheeks and, my especial weakness lately, exquisitely
applied eyeliner. A woman friend of
mine who's into that shamanistic stuff once had a book that I thumbed through
called Women Who Run With the Wolves. This
busstop cafeteria babe looked like a promo for Women Who Run With the Raccoons.
She was reading a copy of the new Cosmopolitan.
The title of the article was "Men Unzipped". I been thinking
about Cosmo for about a year or so now, ever since I saw a cover touting an
article about "Your Orgasm Face."
And I gotta say I'm not sure that this is what Helen Gurley Brown had in
mind when she assumed the helm, despite her middle name.
I have been a strong advocate of women's rights blahblah for a long time. But it seems to me that the basic function of Cosmo these
days is to serve as an instruction manual for How to Be a Better Object.
And of course I'm a red-blooded dude an all that, like my pussy as well
as the next guy does I guess, and...refer to the part about a weakness for
eyeliner...am a total sucker for and great booster of the Feminine Mystique.
But I'd really much rather not be aware that I'm being played here. Keep my illusions an all that. I think at this point it might
be proper to mention that while this Personification of the Promise of Pussy was
reading Cosmo, the old lecher at the next table, that is to say, me, was reading
An Autobiography of Frank Lloyd Wright...turgid stuff, and if this Cosmo had
been devoted to Your Orgasm Face rather than Men Unzipped, I might have asked to
borrow it. I can see a Man Unzipped
any time I want. Orgasm
Faces...well. ##
* * *
TERRORISM IN JERUSALEM
Subject:
FW: What I saw last night in Jerusalem
Date: Sun, 2 Dec 2001 20:34:46 -0500
From: "Julian Tepper" <jutepper@erols.com>
To: <jutepper@erols.com>
Here
is a message from my son, Greg, whom many of you know. Greg recently completed
activity duty with the Israeli infantry. He has been managing an internet bar in
Jerusalem, and will be in the US soon to complete his final two years of
undergraduate work. He will be home on December 19, for about a week, along with
his brother Rob, a budding actor in Los Angeles. Their older brother John
resides in Jerusalem. Taylor and Callie are most proud of their brothers, as are
Deb and I. Words do not exist to allow me adequately to express the nature and
extent of my happiness to have Greg and Rob home, even if just for a short while:
I
was at work, managing the bar, chatting with customers outside.
I work in the Russian Compound, about four or five blocks from where the
attacks were last night.
I
was outside and heard a boom, followed seconds later by another.
I knew what it was (a car bomb went off around the corner from the bar
this past summer).
Within
a few seconds people came running up the street. There were two soldiers outside the bar (they're there every
weekend for security). The soldiers and I tried to figure out where it had
happened. I asked people running by
and all they were saying was "around the corner."
I
thought it may have happened at Mike's Place, a bar around the corner where
Once
the bar was closed and secured I ran to Mike's Place, fearing that my friends
may be hurt and hoping to help. All
this transpired in a matter of about 40 seconds to a minute.
I saw right away that Mike's was not hit, and from there saw commotion at
Yoffo St. I ran to help.
It may have not been wise, but my instincts or army training kicked in
and I ran.
There
were police and ambulances, people running and generally confused.
I was at Kikar Tzion (Zion Square).
I went towards the wounded. I
immediately saw a man with blood coming down his face, broken glass and blood on
the ground near him. I, with one or
two others, helped him a few yards away to where another injured man was
sitting. Someone was trying to get MADA (Magen David Adam---the
emergency medical services).
A
young kid was being helped towards us. He
was having trouble walking so I grabbed an arm and leg with someone else and we
carried him to where the other wounded were.
He was worried about his cell phone.
He was in shock.
I
continued down that street and took a right, heading up Hillel Street, which is
right behind Kikar Tzion and runs perpendicular to the Underground, a dance
club. I ran up Hillel and took a
right towards Ben Yehuda, the main pedestrian mall.
There were two police and a five or six people there.
The police were trying to keep them back.
I assume the five or six people wanted to help or to look for friends.
I was right across from a popular ice cream stand, where youngsters sit
out all night. I've eaten there
before, with friends or family.
The
five or six men ran past the police, and as they did I did as well.
I thought I saw a friend on the ground.
There were five or six people there, lying on the ground.
Some were getting CPR. Some
with legs or arms twisted or gone. There
was blood everywhere. At this point
I wasn't running, but moving quickly. I
saw a piece of a body, I didn't recognize what part.
There was a bone sticking out of it and bits of flesh everywhere. I moved around the wounded, checking that I did not know any
of them.
A
police office was yelling, "Does anyone have a pen!" over and over.
I didn't have one. I think
they needed it for a tracheotomy. There
was nothing I could do there and so I went back the way I had come.
I
saw a few people helping a kid, probably 16 or 17.
He was in shock, had blood on him, but I don't know where it had come
from. I tried to help him to where
the other wounded were, along with some other people. He kept saying he didn't want to go anywhere, was asking for
his mother. I don't know if she was
there. When I tried to put his arm
around my shoulder he screamed. He
was hurt somehow. Others took him
into a cafe to sit down.
I
went back again the way I had come, towards Kikar Tzion. I told a soldier who had a wound on his head that there were
wounded that needed treatment.
I
got to the the square and the police started yelling for everyone to get away,
that there could be another terrorist. I
went back towards Mike's Place. On
the way I saw some kids I know from the bar and told them to get away.
I got to Mike's, had some water, and went back to my bar.
The other workers were there (the owner had reopened so they could come
inside). A few people were shaken
up and we had them sit down and drink some water.
I didn't hear the car bomb, I was inside.
After
a few minutes the police came and told us to go home. The walk home was crowded, the streets full with people
trying to get home or not knowing where to go.
Thank G-d I'm ok, and my friends are ok.
It wasn't till an hour later that I saw blood on my pants. Jewish blood, shed by terrorists. These people are no different than the ones that hit America. I am very angry. No one should see what I saw. No one should deal with what the wounded and the families of those children killed now have to deal with. I pray that we should all have peace. ##
CLICK HERE TO GET TO INDEX OF COLUMN SIXTY-EIGHT
CLICK HERE TO GET TO INDEX
OF COLUMNS
The
Blacklisted Journalist can be contacted at P.O.Box 964, Elizabeth, NJ 07208-0964
The Blacklisted Journalist's E-Mail Address:
info@blacklistedjournalist.com
THE BLACKLISTED JOURNALIST IS A SERVICE MARK OF AL ARONOWITZ