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anti-press ezine 2000 08 27
ANTI-PRESS EZINE #16
"We're Positive About The Negative"
An August E-dition
(C) Copyright 2000 Anti-Press All Rights Reserved
Unless indicated otherwise, all articles by Anti-Press. Articles
submitted by others do not necessarily express or reflect the opinions
or beliefs of Anti-Press.
See the footer below for info on email, subscriptions, submissions, etc.
Anti-Press Ezine radiates from our Precision Reality Center. We're
presently entrapped in the alleged city of Plattsburgh, northeastern New
York State, USA. (For your own good: STAY THE FUG AWAY!)
*** THIS E-DITION: PRECISE REALITY/ TITANIC TASTELESSNESS/ WEEDY
PHILOSOPHY/ DISCRIMINATORY LANGUAGE ***
=============================================================
ANTI-PRESS EZINE LAUNCHES ITS
PRECISION REALITY CENTER
Whatever the Plattsburgh TeeVee station can do, we can do it one better.
A while back the local TeeVee news station announced that not only that
its meteorologists were certified (or certifiable?) but that their
studio now had a Storm Center where major elemental events could be
tracked and studied.
Of course, the "Storm Center" was a corner in the studio with a couple
of computer monitors sitting on a folding table, banners across the wall
proclaiming the spot to be a STORM CENTER. Wow. So we saw that and
then decided that this corner of our shoebox "office" would be the
"Reality Center".
Well, the Plattsburgh TeeVee station had to ratchet their weather
forecasting up another big notch. It now features "Precision Weather".
How precise is it? Well, back in the springtime the weatherman
predicted rain for the next day. We got rain all right-- twelve inches
of it fell as snow here in the city, up to twenty-one inches of the
white stuff in the Greater Plattsburgh area. Yep. That's precise.
We think of the ever-smiling TeeVee weatherman as being good for one
thing: he can tell you which way the wind is blowing. He sticks one of
his bare appendages out a window and from that he can tell the direction
of a gust, even a light breeze. That's why we call him the Weathercock.
Only good for letting you know if the air flow is coming down from the
north out of Canada, the source of all bad weather for us.
Anyway, if they can put up signs in a spare corner of their studio and
call it a Storm Center, if they can promote their best guesses as
Precision Weather-- well, we're announcing that we're now officially
housed in the Precision Reality Center, a spot where we know the
difference between rain, snow, and shit.
* * *
PLATTSBURGH PROMOTES TRAGEDY AS FAMILY FUN
The inflatable Titanic.
We didn't think about it too much; just another item on the list of
attractions during Mayor's Cup Week in downtown Plattsburgh. Probably
some sort of display of what the doomed passenger vessel looked like
before it sank into the freezing waters as the result of an
iceberg-induced wound.
The Titanic did tie in with the nautical theme for Mayor's Cup. Every
year Plattsburgh sponsors a sailboat race to give the bored capitalists
in the area something to do-- mainly the opportunity to flaunt their
excess wealth. Us, we wander around with some change in our pocket,
debating whether or not we should splurge it on a hotdog or an icecream
cone.
At least most of the events were free: outdoor concerts, fireworks, the
usual family fare. Also the movie "Titanic" was shown at a city park
one evening, free of charge, on a giant rear projection screen. Despite
the hype when it was originally released, the film did reflect the
horrific conditions faced by the passengers as they struggled until help
arrived.
And then there was the inflatable Titanic. A street was blocked off one
day so that the display could expand to its full size, over one story
high. But this display wasn't intended for historical purposes. When
we spotted it we noticed that the scale was off; it was only a bloated
simulacrum of the actual vessel. The black smokestacks were there but a
ladder ran along one side, built into the deck. Slanted at a steep
angle, the bow not in view, it depicted the final moment before the
Titanic slid into the water. Kids could climb the deck ladder of this
rubberized monstrosity and then glide down the other side.
It was a water slide.
Wheeee! What fun.
Tragedy reduced to a tacky amusement park ride.
We wouldn't mind if this display did something to remind all the kids
and their parents what it was actually like to be a doomed passenger on
the Titanic. A couple of changes were in order. Each participant
should slide down into a deep pool of ice water and be forced to stay
there for at least an hour, gasping for air, turning blue, fighting off
hypothermia. Randomly-floating dead bodies would add the right touch.
We're sick? Are we sick compared to the gleeful fun of the Titanic
water slide? We wonder how survivors of that tragedy would react to
this.
What is Plattsburgh going to sponsor next? How about the inflatable
Hindenburg at the next air show?
And if the city is so desperate to make money, they should bring back
the Titanic water slide next year. But this time make sure to set up a
booth next to it to sell saltwater taffy...
* * *
AN ODE TO THE WEED
(AND OTHER DEFIANT PLANTS)
A daily ritual: we walk by the abandoned laundromat on main street,
noting how much more the plants have consumed that forgotten building.
You can't open the front door; it's blocked by a sapling quickly
expanding into a tree. A wall of weeds grow in a long crack in the front
parking lot. By late fall the laundromat's facade could be masked in
green.
But it doesn't have to be an army of plants reclaiming the land to
impress us. Even one little plant-- the simplest weed-- can catch our
attention. A couple of years ago we noticed a small tree growing in a
church chimney, easily spotted from the main steps of the public
library. There it was, high in the sky, a pole flying its leafy flag.
But it's no longer there, snipped and ripped away when the church roof
was refurbished.
Just down the street from the library there's a newsstand housed on the
corner of an old brick building. One summer a small rose was growing
out of a crack near the front door. Unfortunately someone else thought
it was just another weed and he plucked out the plucky flower.
But like a chlorophyllian Hydra, snip one plant and two more will sprout
up elsewhere. Despite all the landscaping, lawn-mowing, tree trimming
and weed-whacking, plants find chinks in the armor, weak spots, and push
their way back into the sunlight.
Walking around, alone, on the outside, the most reassuring sight to us
is a bastard weed squeezing up from a sea of pavement, refusing to be
drowned by the tarmac blackness.
* * *
WAR OF WORDS
*We don't like being treated like a nig--*
"You can't say that!"
*Why not? That's the way the guy acted towards us.*
"But that's an awful word."
*Right. A hateful word.*
"But you can't use it!"
*It can apply to us.*
"No, it can't. That word is only used against certain people of a
particular skin color."
*It can be used against anyone.*
"No, that awful word is only used against certain people."
*Really. Look it up in a dictionary. One definition of that word is
slang for 'a second-class citizen'.*
"That's a dictionary. Dictionaries aren't the real world."
*Indeed. So dictionaries were created to show how words aren't used by
people at large."
"You can't use that word to describe yourself in that manner."
*Hmmmm. Isn't that discrimination on your part?"
"Huh?"
*Forget it. We gotta go. We're going to spend our time in a more
profitable manner.*
"Doing what?"
*We're going to converse with a weed sticking up in the middle of the
parking lot...*
* * *
THE WRAP UP
This e-dition is running a little short because we're running out of
time. We're getting ready to vacate this place, take a long overdue
vacation. It's been about a year since we've traveled beyond a 300
radius of this anus of existence. We need a break before we break.
Anyway, after a change of scenery, seeing some old friends, resting up
for a while, we should come back in a much better mood.
But that good mood won't last that long. Then we'll sit down and put
out another e-dition of this electronic rant-rag.
So don't worry. We'll be back. In spades. Calling a spade a spade.
"Hey! You can't use that word..."
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