Well, I didn‘t succumb to alcohol poisoning, I didn’t try to impregnate anyone and I didn’t wake up in a jail cell. So, by my less than lofty standards, the 17th annual block party was a rip-roaring success. It really was. It was well-attended. We had more than enough cover under the assorted tents as the scattered showers sauntered on by. Piles of food and barrel after barrel of beer. In fact, this years’ event was by far the most ethnically diverse party we’ve ever thrown. Can’t we all just get along? Sure we can! And then some.
The white trash down on the corner got themselves fooled. We closed the street by noon which was allowable by way of the permit we secured from the city. But, the escapees from Deliverance Township came and went all afternoon. They would move the city-supplied barriers, pull on in and then smile and wave at the street folk who were busily setting up the party. We mostly stared back at them without incident, although, I did point down there where I pee from once or thrice. You know, the time-tested classic: “Eat me.“ Scumbags all!
So, they giddily came and went all afternoon as if gasoline was cheaper than imported rubber dog sh*t. I think they were just driving around the block all day long because nobody has that many frickin’ errands to run unless they’re dealing illegal drugs. (Hmmm) They giggled, they waved, they smiled up a storm and they even displayed a few middle fingers. All the while, we watched but continued to toil away. Then, at 6 o’clock, an off-duty member of Wilkes-Barre’s police department parked a cruiser across the end of our street trapping the lot of them. They had words with him to no avail, called police headquarters and claimed he was rude to them, and an entire block party smiled, waved and threw a few middle fingers right back at them. And one idiot…er, me, even tossed a few eggs at their trapped vehicles. Anyway, that alone was worth the miniscule price of admission. Go back…back…back to the doublewides!!!
And get this. They tell me we got a hometown guy--Quentin Harris--roaming the grass for the New York Football Giants. He’s a Meyers high graduate and his Dad works for the City of Wilkes-Barre. Although I’ve never met Quentin Harris or seen him play at any level, so long as he’s wearing Giant’s blue, he’s on my NYG wall of fame. Cool.
We didn’t get much press this year. We usually do, but the local media outlets seem all agog over the Pittston Tomato Festival. I mean, I don’t care if we get any press or not. I just don’t understand the attraction of the big tomato party. They eat, drink, play some tunes and then sacrifice small children on the altar of the tomato gods or some such thing. And then they get drunk and throw tomatoes at each other? Why, if we did that, we’d likely get busted and hauled away. I guess we’ll have to change the name of the block party to the Thompson Street Eggplant Festival and wage eggplant fights all night long. You want some of this? Huh? Huh? Or, perhaps, the Thompson Street Rutabaga Festival. Those suckers would hurt if heaved with enough velocity. Maybe turnips. A newspaper photographer was on hand, did take some pictures and names, but I didn’t see anything in either paper. Oh well.
As far as big wigs are concerned, I saw four members of council and Mayor Tom Leighton showed up later on only to be met with a Beach Boys medley and myself introducing him as “the man who brought the Beach Boys to Wilkes-Barre--Mayor Tom Lehighton.” Sorry. I really don’t know what comes over me sometimes and no, I was not drunk. At least, not at that juncture. I’m just crazy. Darn, the twitching and tremors are starting agaaiang. Actually, I didn’t bug any of them. The way I see it, they came here to party and need not hear from me on how to best run the city. Although, I did point out to one of them that she had forgotten to bring some Bugels. Dammit.
The kid’s games went off without a hitch, but what’s with so many of the adults cheating at various games at a freaking block party? Cheating at egg tossing? Water balloons? Like, we’re not handing out all expenses paid trips to Nirvana or anything? Jeez!
As to that ethic mix I made mention of, we had people here from New York City, Belize, a former Soviet territory and then the homegrown types. So if any loudmouth like Kevin Lynn tells you we, as an area, are not receptive to “outsiders,” tell them to go pound sand. I already told you the gig. I can live next to and party with just about anyone so long as they don’t touch any of stuff. And nobody did. Seriously, we had us a lot of good people on hand, just as we always do. And as far as the newest of the neighbors are concerned, they all seem to be acclimating to the Thompson Street routine very nicely. You watch our back and we’ll watch yours. And don’t touch my stuff.
So we spun eight hours worth of tunes, ate mass quantities, swilled some swill (lots), played some games and made plenty of new friends. All of this in a city that is supposedly too utterly dangerous to even live in. (?) You tell me, man. I don’t care what anyone says, I like it here. It is what you make of it, both physically as well as in your mind.
Anyway, it was a great party and seemed to be enjoyed by all who attended. Nobody got arrested and everyone who had to made it to work in the morning. Poor bastards. So, put it on your planner now. The 18th annual Thompson Street Block Party is already set for the second Saturday of August from here on out. Sounds like a plan to me.
‘Til next time.
Now let‘s cover some annoying stuff. A temp agency opens directly across the street from Coughlin High School? Are we serious? An idiot magnet there? How did this thing get an approval from the zoning folks? The wall in front of the gym is covered from one end to the other with...ahem, sitting people chain-smoking away and school is set to begin any day now? I’m amazed.
Then there‘s this. Wifey makes her awesome American Pierogi for the block party every year, so Friday afternoon I headed on over to Oh Yes to purchase the ingredients and suchlike. By the time I got all of that stuff carried home my arms were two inches longer, but that’s a whole other story.
Anywho, while I was walking home, a contractor’s van parked in front of me and the driver jumped out, banged on a rear door and took a seat in the rear yard but few away from me. Out of the house came a young Mexican guy and then the two of them haggled about how many hours were worked the week before and how much money was owed. And out of the van driver’s left pocket came a gigantic wad of cash.
The last time I checked, that’s called working under the table and it is highly illegal. Nobody is paying any taxes on the earnings, obviously no benefits are involved, and the rapidly growing underground economy lowers the govmint’s coffers, adds to the cost of social services and puts Americans out of work. And don’t give me any more ridiculous bullspit about Mexicans coming here to do the jobs Americans won’t do. That’s claptrap the likes of which Kevin Lynn repeats incessantly, so you already knew it was complete bullsh*t! Right? Construction jobs used to be highly sought after by young American males. But sadly, young American males no longer do much construction or roofing as many contractors have taken to breaking the law in pursuit of higher profits. Young American males are being discriminated against by shady contractors. And the Fedrule Govmint is condoning it by not enforcing our borders and by not aggressively persuing and deporting all illegal aliens.
And the company name painted on the side of that van?
Wyoming Valley Roofing.
An irreputable business by any standards.
Well then. France is sending how many troops to enforce the “peace” in Lebanon? What’s the latest? There are sending what, all of 29 soldiers? Gee, that sounds like a plan doomed to failure. Thank goodness we got the international community involved. Wouldn’t want to do anything unilaterally, would we?
Hezbollah’s final hours might be upon them very soon.
If I keep scratching my head over this one, I’m going to create my own case of dandruff.
“The issue here is the people voted. The voices of the people should be heard,” Griffith said. “Quite honestly, if the voices of the people can’t be heard, what is the purpose of having a vote? We might as well go back to communism in this country.”--Walter Griffith
Um, did I miss something important, or was this guy continually dozing off during his American history courses? We might as well go back to communism in this country???
You wanna put that guy in charge?
So Carl Romanelli‘s efforts at getting himself elected got some roiled Democrats and some riled up Greens to beating up on each other. Outstanding, man! The ultimate pillars of democracy and tolerance all got to throwing punches in lieu of votes. I thought the Republicans were supposed to be the big bad meanies.
I’m gonna buy Carl a freaking beer when I see him next. That’s just too funny. Hyperventilating, apoplectic lunatics all!
I want video.
Needlesss to say, I'm pooped.