Weekly Rochester Events #324: Three-by-Three-by-Two-by-Two-by-Three-by-Three
Thursday, March 24, 2005So I'm only in The Rochester Public Market (280 Union St. N.) on Saturday mornings (that, or I'm at A|V Art Sound Space (#8 in the Public Market, off N. Union St., formerly The All-Purpose Room) late at night for some show) but I've been meaning to check out Juan and Maria's Empanada Stop (280 N. Union St., in the Public Market next to the Railroad St. entrance) for some time now. A review from 2Taste says good stuff about it. Thus, this Saturday's lunch — bringing back a short-lived tradition of trying some new place on the last Saturday of each month — will be at Juan and Maria's Empanada Stop (280 N. Union St., in the Public Market next to the Railroad St. entrance). (For those who haven't been regular readers for very long, our usual stop is at O'Bagelo's (165 State Street) but I started mixing it up a few years ago with other Rochester restaurants on the last Saturday of the month.)
But speaking of bringing back old traditions, I found some things to complain about. First off is the news coverage of "skyrocketing" gasoline prices. I started out looking at my own spending habits on automotive fuel (based on the cursed capabilities of Quicken — i.e. I spent over $20,000 on computer hardware in the last 10 years) and found that I have records back as far as December 1992. In successive years starting in 1993 I spent $499, $434, $523, $450, $620, $560, $669, $696, $652, $602, $551, and $234 on gasoline (the last of which I won't count because that's without any commute.) Looking at a snapshot of scanned receipts (see? they really do come in handy) the price I paid for gas ranged from around $1.10 in 2002 to $1.62 in 1997 (the latter peak mostly because I was buying fancy gas; also note that I don't have copies of receipts until 1996.) Despite that fluctuation, I spend right around a $560 median.
But I really just want to put this in perspective. I mean, this is pretty much what I'm paying for RoadRunner ($539 last year), or what I pay to go to concerts ($535 last year.) Hell, I spent $1,162.22 on booze bought in bars last year (by the way, congratulations to Lux Lounge (666 South Ave.) for being the lucky recipient of more 30% of that.) My point is, everything adds up and even a 25% increase in gas prices (i.e. $2.119 per gallon to $2.649) would only amount to an extra $140 a year — barely over $10 each month.
Of course, I'm assuming everyone is driving a vehicle suitable to their needs, and not, say, a Ford Expedition as a single-person commuter vehicle. If so, you're probably fucked — but hey: that's why I make the big bucks.
I thought I had bitched directly about hypocrisy before, but I guess that's only been in person with people [lucky you!] As you may know, I'm not a big fan of hypocrisy in its colloquial form — that of saying one thing and doing another — but I've come to let that one be ... perhaps just as a fact of human nature since people like to idealize themselves; I'm less happy when they're doing it to delude themselves rather than better themselves, but it's not really any business of mine.
However, hypocritical behavior that I can't get a handle on is that which is irrational. Naturally, the only reason I'm bringing it up is in the context of Terri Schiavo and the fight to keep her alive in Florida. (For those who get their news from sources other than American news, Terri Schiavo became severely brain damaged in 1990 — apparently through a rare fluke that caused her heart to stop — and now her husband wishes to have her feeding tube removed to allow her to die.)
See, the thing that irks me is that these people protesting so desperately with their picket signs to keep her alive is that I'm absolutely positive they are also writing their government representatives insisting that welfare be cut. It isn't that they are demonstrating compassion that irks me, it is that they are so inconsistent in their behavior: just what exactly is their internal motivation?
My own take on the situation is mostly that it is not my business to interfere. I do not have enough information to make a decision. It is my understanding that this poor woman is so dysfunctional that she not only can't move, eat, nor even comprehend enough to communicate that she's hungry, but that she can't communicate her wishes whether she wants to live or die. I assume that treatment techniques have been exhausted and, given the 14 years she has had to demonstrate some semblance of recovery, that she has not. Whatever I may speculate, I don't know the whole story [although I'm a hypocrite for believing that I know what the protesters are thinking, right?]
One of the most confusing things is that the Legislative branch of our government have taken it upon themselves to step up and violate their charters to pass a law that specifically keeps her alive (whereas they should be making general laws for all people and allowing judges to interpret those laws as they apply to individual cases.) Heck, the President himself [warning: imminent liberal rant] couldn't be bothered to come back from vacation around August 6, 2001 to further analyze a memo that Al Qaeda terrorists might try hijacking airplanes in the United States, but once a near brain-dead white-woman is going to have her feeding tube, he cuts his vacation short to interfere claiming that it's in the interest of the right of mentally disabled persons to live — you mean like the mentally retarded?
The most egregious example is yet to come, though. Once Terri dies, I guarantee murder charges will be brought against her husband, Michael, and that someone will specifically seek the death penalty. It's this kind of illogical morality — and the related hypocrisy — that troubles me.
Anyway, continuing my theme of returning to old traditions, let me not-segue into what I did last week. On Thursday I got out to George Eastman House (900 East Ave.) to see Clifford Ross discuss "From Hurricanes to Mountains: The Road to the R1 High-Resolution Camera." The guy is meticulous to a fault and it showed in the carefully planned and carefully timed discussion. He talked about his progression from photographing the ocean to photographing film grain (or at least presenting it) to his latest project of photographing large landscapes. If you haven't been to see his photos, go take a look. They really are amazing — about 4 feet high and 8 feet wide, they invite the viewer to look ever closer at the marvel of detail as good as a quality 4x6 print. It's almost like looking at a grid of 200 photos all stitched together.
Friday I started a week of "free-for-all drinking" where I don't impose any arbitrary limits (the latest being 5 drinks a week since the beginning of the year.) Either I'm way overdue for a few extra drinks or I've got some serious issues, because I've been drinking a lot. In the mean time, I did get out to a few things. On Saturday I went to the relatively new artist space Door 7 (439 Central Ave.) and got to check it out. It's quite large ... probably about 2,000 square feet or so, and it's pretty interesting to explore. I thought it was lit too well which revealed all the rough edges, but worse, it took away from the thrill of exploration by taking away any possibility of surprise. Oh, the artwork ... yeah, it was pretty good ... nothing that thrilled me too much, though. Same goes for the bands — although I did like the synth-pop style band The Monkey Space Station.
On Tuesday I spent most of the day updating the website for The Bike With 2 Brains website which I announced last week and didn't really have any content. Now there is, so go ahead and click again. Really. If I fool you again, you could even shame me! Go ahead ... click it!
That night I went to A|V Art Sound Space (#8 in the Public Market, off N. Union St., formerly The All-Purpose Room) to check out the noise band show. I thought Sick Llama was pretty cool with their drone-noise that sounded a bit like listening to amplified steam radiators. The Haunting was good too and they did tormented vocals distorted and mixed with organ and other sounds — kind of like a horror movie soundtrack.
So that pretty much wraps things up for another week ... as you can see from the poll, I am going to hell. At least I won't have to listen to self-righteous assholes (unless that's what my hell would actually be like ... uh oh ... have I mentioned how much cute, sharp-witted women annoy me?)
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On this day ... March 24
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Soulwax "E Talking" - DJ/band Soulwax made a funny video that alphabetically catalogs the drugs of the rave culture.
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Movie links courtesy The Internet Movie Database. Map links courtesy MapsOnUs. Some movie synopses courtesy UpcomingMovies.com
About the title ... With just twos and threes, the number 324 can be calculated by multiplying 3, 3, 2, 2, 3, and 3.
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While I'm on the topic of keywords for search engines, this update includes information for Thursday, March 24, 2005 (Thu, Mar 24, 2005, 3/24/2005, or 3/24/05) Friday, March 25, 2005 (Fri, Mar 25, 2005, 3/25/2005, or 3/25/05) Saturday, March 26, 2005 (Sat, Mar 26, 2005, 3/26/2005, or 3/26/05) Sunday, March 27, 2005 (Sun, Mar 27, 2005, 3/27/2005, or 3/27/05) Monday, March 28, 2005 (Mon, Mar 28, 2005, 3/28/2005, or 3/28/05)
Tuesday, March 29, 2005 (Tue, Mar 29, 2005, 3/29/2005, or 3/29/05) and Wednesday, March 30, 2005 (Wed, Mar 30, 2005, 3/30/2005, or 3/30/05).
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