The post-party party

“I'm pretty tired of this guy (Ciaverella) and Conahan.”--David Yonki

Fear not, Dave. According to source who spoke on condition of anonymity, both of our disgraced former judges are expected to be sentenced and incarcerated before the 2016 presidential election.

Hang in there.

Tomorrow, July 30, 2009, is my marriage anniversary. I call it a marriage anniversary because we did not have a wedding when first we were joined at the hip. Our “wedding” amounted to a visit to the local justice of the peace after much coercion by my grandmother. If she actually owned a shotgun, I’m sure it would have made the short trip along with us.

Anyway, tomorrow’s anniversary will be of the milestone category, since it will be our 30th anniversary. 30 freaking years. Can you imagine? In this day and age? Plus, we started dating before I owned my own razor, so this is more accurately put…our 35th anniversary.

If we were operating like the rest of society seems to have been operating during those 30 years, I suppose I’d be having trouble remembering the maiden name of my first wife, since I’d had so many other ex-wives in between the first marriage and the latest. Perhaps I’d even have separate sets of kids from different failed marriages. Maybe I’d have snuffed it a long time ago, and happily so. Or been snuffed out without my expressed permission by some conniving black widow of a girl just out of the marital revolving door.

But, as things still stand, I’ve got but one Wifey, one set of three kids, a growing gaggle of grandkids and, other than when Wifey cracked my Fabulous Poodles LP with an oil lamp, no complaints.

I think the things I lacked the most during the turbulent formative years were stability and predictability of any sort. But those two things are probably the hallmarks of what can only be called an enduring love. After all these many long years, she’s still stuck with the likes of me.

Proof that she’s tougher than she looks.

I plucked this belated comment from the electronic heap:

Gort has left a new comment on your post "Stuff":

I stopped listening to WILK (except for Sue on occasion) months ago so when you started your usual diatribe I tuned out of this post when you published it. I reread it tonight 07/28 and I'm shocked the block party is a no go. I thought you had the ear of the Mayor and could overcome such bullshit.

Sorry to have bored you. But much like many local bloggers make a habit of snatching idiocy from the pages of the local newspapers, I snatch idiocy from the local radio airwaves.

And as I have said before, that came about when it became obvious that two of the local talk show hosts, Lynn and Corbett, would rather hang up on me rather than engage me in a spirited, sometimes heated discourse. And as I have taunted them with before, they cannot hang up on me in this forum. They can misconstrue and misrepresent the facts over there, and I can have back at them over here.

Unlike the vast majority of my fellow Americans, I do not tune out what I do not wholeheartedly agree with. And I think the wide disparity of opinion on one hot subject displayed on WILK as the day progresses is fairly interesting to follow. Whatever the issue at hand may be, the morning hosts and regular callers see it one way. Sue’s regular callers read it another way. And then Corbett’s regular callers are apt to spin it a whole other way.

As a longtime blogger, I can understand why any of us would lean towards boycotting the morning and afternoon hosts, since they have gone well out of their way to denigrate our electronic efforts over the years. And their on-air treatment of local bloggers has been nothing short of openly hostile with the lone exception being when former radio people turned bloggers call in.

Sill though, here in NEPA, only on WILK can a new $24 million riverfront amenity spark early morning apprehension, mid-morning contentment and then late afternoon rage. It can be fascinating. Likewise, it can be thoroughly annoying. But as I mentioned before, it beats predictably programmed rock classics. And it sure as hell beats listening to sports talk radio all day long.

Funny that you mentioned the block party when you did. Last night I was summoned to a sparsely attended “block party” meeting. This would be the first and last such meeting. During the preceding years, this would have been the third or fourth planning meeting held at this late of a date. And planning meetings have always been parties unto themselves, replete with alcohol, foodstuffs and lots of people in attendance.

But last night, it was four “party elders” all staring at me and reading me the riot act…No…Block…Party. And the reasons were the same, too hard, too much work, we’re too old, not enough support--bunk that I feel could be overcome with the unrelenting drafting of the newer, younger neighbors, the next generation if you will.

But no. None of that will be done. And I am alone in my belief that the show should go on. And I even asked one of the “elders” why she was barking at me. What? Did I do something wrong by offering doable alternatives? Should I be shouted down because I alone am not running out of steam just yet?
The thing is, to my dismay, there will be no Thompson Street Block Party this year. And to be painfully honest, I’m still not sure why it has to be that way. I’m still certain that whatever is afoot is not being plainly stated for public consumption.

And the mayor has absolutely nothing to do with this. I want to make that perfectly clear. Whether I have his ear or not, his involvement with the block party typically begins when the party begins. Although, our current mayor did make it a habit to donate prizes for the affair. Not city property, mind you. He donated out of his own pocket.
The city grants our permit request, cleans the street, and provides steel garbage barrels, traffic barriers and large garbage backs. And that’s about it. Our party was always our creation, our show, ours to do with as we wished within reason.

Only during the 2002 event did we have any problem with the city after it/he denied our permit request for completely political reasons, i.e., me and my blogging exploits which were garnering a lot of attention at the time. But we held the party anyway, publicly dared the then mayor to raid it, many city employees dropped by to express their support and the press rushed on up here to see what would happen.

I’ll never forget that day. It was 3:59, and with the flip of a fader, up comes the Rolling Stones and the Times Leader’s Jolyn Resnick looking for an interview with none other than Wilkes-Barre‘s biggest political troublemaker, one Mark Cour. Oh, boyNeedless to say, that party did not go exactly as planned. But what it did demonstrate was the unbreakable spirit on this street at that time. The mayor said “no party” and we said party on! And party we did.

Anywho, I’m not angry about the long-running institution coming to an end. All things must pass, correct? But I was, and still am annoyed about how it was (wasn’t) handled. I’m still not grasping the gist of the problem. And I’m still confused as to why I was being treated as some sort of militant simply because I disagreed with the basic premise that it’s time had come.

As I said, my entire family and some friends will be here on the second Saturday in August, as mandated by tradition. Despite recent events, we’ll still have plenty of hot and cold foods, a barrel of beer on ice, a music library at our disposal, games for the kids, a Piñata. the pool and I strongly suspect, some late night Texas hold ‘em poker (or whatever the heck they call it) going down.

So, if I don’t manage to bore you people to death before then, feel free to make an appearance free-of-charge other than a mandatory carry-in foodstuff or munchies. (Hint: Bugles.)

You know, like, RSVP.

And with that, I’m off to do some more pre-draft scouting for the fast-approaching fantasy football season. For the first time ever, I have the first pick in the upcoming draft. Decisions, decisions.

Later