We went to the 24 hour grocery store Saturday night and it was CLOSED — like completely empty and Oh noes! But there was a sign directing us to the new location. We’d forgotten they’d been working on a big fancy Market District store, so I guess my preferred G’iggle was no longer needed. I was skeptical! What had they done? Was this going to be a nightmare? Change! Differentness! Good things usually, but not when it comes to chores that are already tedious and typically annoying, and I was not in the mood for a scavenger hunt. AND And and … lots of breathless statements of indignation!

It was surprisingly crowded for it being near-midnight on a Saturday, and as D commented, everyone looked so irritated that other people were there. Like we’d all invented Late Night Weekend Grocery Shopping and owned that shit and how dare these assholes ruin our shopping experience with their breathing and their pushing of carts! Indeed.

The store is so ridiculously huge that this grumpitude is total BS, and we all ought to be ashamed of ourselves. We were in a magical wonderland of CHEESE AND BEER. The carts have cup holders. It is fucking magical. I can’t even tell you!

So right, I started to get bummed because in true My Relationship With Pittsburgh style, just as I’m leaving, cool new things start popping up and going on. Like I make a few new friends or find a fun new local band or suddenly there is a place where one can easily procure the integral parts of one’s favorite noodle dish and –it’s a month before I’m outta the joint. And THEN I remembered that I’m going back HOME where delicious things have always been available and you can even get a god damned salad without having to specify that you do NOT want french fries in it.¹ What am I bummed about? I’ve been paddling upstream on Styx with Cerebus snapping from the shore for what seems like forever and finally there is a light ahead. It’s a neon sign that reads “Reading Terminal Market.” Are you kidding me? Snap out of it, lady.

For my friends who are at peace with pretend salads and doughy white bread cut extra thick for maximum tastelessness and are here for the long haul², here is the most important, relevant link: The Market District Beer List. Also their handy Cheese Pairing list.

Does that not make you hungry for fancy crap and feel sort of posh and something like a grown-up, or what?

1. I will never ever understand the Pittsburgh french fry salad thing. It’s supposed to be a salad. You are missing the whole concept of salad when you dump a fryer basket of greasy fries over it. Don’t act like I’m the one who doesn’t know what a salad is. I’ve got the rest of the world with me on this one, and you are a wee tiny baby of a city; a fussy toddler who won’t eat his vegetables unless swamped in ranch dressing.
2. I think you should move too. There, I said it. I just feel very strongly that you’re being deprived of essentials like general deliciousness.

At some point this year you have a post-head-trauma epiphany and decide to open a 70s theme donut shop in Pittsburgh’s Strip District and call it Peace Love & Tiny Donuts with the slogan “Feed Your Inner Hippie.” See, your plan is to profit off the “dilusional [sic], uneducated and morally bankrupt” liberals who think they’re supporting a cool, fun, small business run by nice folks. And you know what? That’s a plan. Perhaps not the most ethical, but it would totally work.

Except you blogged about it on your public blog.

Then when people called you out on your weirdo marketing lies, you posted the following:

Thursday, October 1, 2009
It has come to my attention…

A young woman came into my shop today and shared with me that some people have read my blog and now are busy doing what they can to damage me and my family by telling others that I am a horrible person. Apparently, my viewpoint and opinions have been interpreted as not endorsing their lifestyle choices or their political views. Although I don’t look to offend anyone, I find it ironic that many people who stand under the banner of “acceptance”, are in their own nature, unwilling to accept anyone who disagrees with them. Does anyone else find that ironic?

I make the best donuts I know how, and people have gone to Urbanspoon and given our product a negative rating because they are unhappy with my opinion. One person said that I should keep my opinion to myself so that nobody would know what I thought! Yet these same people who cry out for legitimacy, attack anyone who doesn’t agree with their positions and choices. That to me is the epitome of hypocrisy. I’m not ashamed of who I am, although I admit I am a work in progress. I will not couch my faith or my person-hood for any reason, especially not to sell a donut.

I have been kind and respectful to everyone that has come into my shop. Not just to sell them something, but I try to be the best version of myself that I can be. I take being generous seriously, along with all of God’s commandments. I try to love people and hate sin. Most of what I write about is the struggle to do that without a ton of human debris in my wake. Everyone wants love and peace. The problem is with SIN. I didn’t invent sin (although my wife might joke that I am trying to perfect it), nor did I define sin. I just happen to believe like most people, that there is a better life to be lived if we avoid sin. That requires a knowledge of what IS sin, and my source for that is the Bible. If that makes me the scorn of people and hated… then I say what Martin Luther said… I can not recant the truth. I would welcome the chance to defend my ideas or my faith but only two people have asked me to explain my writings. Others are taking some paragraphs and sending them to others in an attempt to amplify one of my musings. I have a saying for people who try to demonize others by focusing on one attribute or expression… “you have to walk over mile of balance and reason to have that opinion”.
Posted by Ron Razete at 6:37 AM 0 comments

And then delete the whole thing. (Formerly located at ronrazete.blogspot.com, but in the spirit of Martin Luther I will keep it un-recanted here.)

Well, you’re a cowardly liar, and you really can’t be shocked when folks catch on to you. What is your next move? My hypothesis: blame the meanie liberals for not buying your bullshit instead of your poor judgment, lack of business savvy, and bizarre need to politicize donuts.

* * *

You know what, Ron? My unwillingness to tolerate your intolerance doesn’t make me intolerant.

I accept that there are people like you in the world, and your right to be as horrible as you can within the bounds of our laws. But just like you can have issues with the sexiness-levels of movies, and feel the Christian college you pulled your daughter out of was not Christian enough because they let GLBT students enroll –I, and others, have the ability to not support your dishonest endeavors.

Why market to “hippie leftists” and not let your business reflect your true self? Especially since you insist you will not couch your faith or your person-hood for any reason.  I don’t think you should keep your opinions to yourself, or lie about them to make a buck. Let’s see if your intolerance is profitable.

This is part of an ad campaign for a marriage education program (that received a grant from the federal Healthy Families Initiative) found all over local billboards and in PAT buses. Does it instill confidence in their interpersonal relationship guidance skills?

More at Pittsburgh’s City Paper.

Saturday we went to the Pittsburgh Zoo & Aquarium. It was … disappointing. There are no giant anteaters or fruit bats or ring-tailed lemurs. And the leopard doesn’t have anything to climb on except for a wee hut that is so low to the ground it wouldn’t take much effort to step on. The penguins seem crowded and stand facing the walls of their enclosure, sort of rocking back and forth a bit — not unlike the inmates at Arkham Asylum. There’s a transparent tunnel you walk through in the aquarium where you are surrounded by sharks — which is cool for you but I imagine is fairly frustrating for them. Here look at all these tasty toddlers that you can’t eat, guys. Seems kinda jerky, to me.

I don’t remember feeling particularly bummed by the Philadelphia Zoo as a child. I hated that the peacocks were not protected from horrible people who wanted to steal their tail feathers — but I don’t really recall being overwhelmed with sadness looking at the animals, and yet, I feel like I was much more sympathetic as a child. I don’t really have the best memory though, so maybe it’s always like this in a zoo.

It’s not like I don’t feel like zoos are important. I just feel like there ought to be enclosures that make sense for the animals that are stuck in them.

The new polar bear enclosure is pretty fancy. You can walk underneath the tank and see them swimming above you if you catch them when they’re in a swimming mood. This lady up above is one of the new pair of female polar bears acquired this year. They were smaller than I thought they’d be, but I think I read that they’re still fairly young. Or not as old as the fellas, at least.

This is stately lady was trying to get a little privacy so she could powder her nose, but having no other choice, she let lose an epic piss which excited the assembled crowd of phenomenally stupid children and parents. To be honest the children might’ve let out a chorus of Eeeewwwwwws but a lot of the parents were acting offended — like the elephant was being rude. One lady pulled her son away from the viewing area, and he wasn’t even looking at her. “Mom what’s wrong? Where are we going? Did you see the baby elephant running? His ears were all flapping. Can I see him for a minute?” Jeez.

I really didn’t get many photos because the children and over sized stroller mommies kept swarming and jostling us away. Well, mostly just me because I’m not tall like D. At one point I felt like unleashing s stream of f-bombs just to get the mommies to yank their kids away from me. I was good though.

Speaking of dumb jerks at the zoo — there was a guy wearing a Michael Vick jersey. At The Zoo. He had a gaggle of obnoxious tween boys with him and every single one of them needed to be pushed into the piranha tank. Only in Pittsburgh, folks, y’know?

Eventually we tired of getting hit with doublewide strollers filled with babies too young to know where they were or what was going on, and we got out of there. I stopped at the gift shop to pick up a shot glass for one of the Bleiman bros, had a wtf moment staring at a display of stuffed hot pink penguins and lime green elephants, found a sweet elephant t-shirt for D and then we fled in search of food that wasn’t an odd combination of gross and overpriced. (I wanted very badly to take a photo of the ice cream place across from the zoo, but there wasn’t time before the light changed. It’s called Ice Cream Station Zebra. No lie.)

After a delicious meal at Taco Loco we went to a show D’s friend put together; a band out of Chicago called The Atomica Project. Not really my thing (I’ve never been into Portishead) but the singer had a great voice, and the first few songs were lovely. Maybe I was just super tired from wandering around all day, but I was psyched to go home and fall asleep with my own big cats (and one very small cat.)

Sunday involved pancakes and Watchmen. There was an elderly couple sitting next to me and each time there was some full frontal Dr. Manhattan on screen the little old lady would gasp — every single time and it never got old for me. I loved her. When it was over, I heard her say to her fella, “Oh my!”

If you’re a Pittsburgh or near-Pittsburgh reader, you should come to our local Drinking Skeptically this month. It’s on the 20th and I promise there won’t be any arrow wielding flying babies. And the onion rings will knock your socks off. Except I hope not really because I can’t deal with feet.

I’ve been busy at work and also feel like complete crap this week. It’s like head cold meets touch-of-flu, and no sir, I do not like it. This has made for a great deal of movie viewing though. Expect a smallish essay on Freund’s 1935 Mad Love just in time for Valentines Day. And I have something to say about horror scientists and doctors but haven’t had the time or energy to say it. Spent it all Photoshopping that bit up there for DS. Was it worth it? I don’t know. Children, your dear Auntie Lizzie is feelin’ puny. Run along and fetch her some of that “special cough syrup”, won’t you?

“You are invited to my house for dinner. It starts an hour before sunset three days after my eldest cat’s birthday.”

or

“This report is due the first weekday starting with a T following the full moon.”

I’m just not feeling the joy of the local team’s game-winningness this time around. Last time, I’d just made my third move back to Pittsburgh and I watched nearly every game with my excited friends. Just being around their intense emotional reactions to the games was in its own way engaging and I had a really good time. (Plus it often involved Sunday brunch at Piper’s! Salmon boxty and a pint! Guaranteed good time, right there.) When the team won that year that was as exciting as it could get, and having been part of that season’s spirit I guess I just haven’t felt the need to do it again. Onward and upward, you know? There’s so much else to experience, and the games just take such a huge chunk of time. I don’t have that kind of time.

One thing is certain though, I am stoked for my friends who are fans and I hope the outcome increases their fun and excitement threefold.

Anyway, unrelated, seven minutes after my fourth application of lip balm the day before today I was pleased to discover that I’ve still got it.

See? Isn’t that awful? I promise I will stop doing it after as long as it takes the ice to melt + the estimated wait time at an inexplicably popular chain restaurant.

Oh shit. I can’t even help myself.

This guy was hanging out behind a bus stop where I was waiting last night. I have no idea how long it has been there, and bet a lot of people walk by without noticing, thinking it’s just more construction equipment lying around. Very Pittsburgh.

His response?

“I didn’t like the painting… I’m sorry.”

The Post-Gazette reports:

According to the police affidavit, the painting was damaged on May 16, leaving a “large vertical gouge” down its middle.

Ellen Baxter, the museum’s chief conservator, told police that the art piece was a “total loss.”

There has got to be more to this story and I would like to see the security video of this gouging. Art criticism could not be the motive here. I don’t buy it.

And then there’s the city having healthy 100 year old oak trees in Schenley Park cut down to make the 9th hole in the golf course a clearer shot. No really. The Post-Gazette gives an overview of several other instances of the city’s shady (unshady?) dealings with trees all over town. Uh-oh; trees are the new billboards!

The polling place weirds me out a bit. It’s at the old folks’ home and they were so surprised to see me when I was there last, that it made me feel bad. When the volunteers shook my hand vigorously and thanked me multiple times for “being a good citizen” I asked if the turnout had been bad. Another volunteer said it was just unusual to see young people there, and another said he thought it was more that the younger people in the neighborhood are mostly students not registered locally. “I hope that’s all it is,” we said together.

I’m not entirely convinced. My neighborhood is an odd mix. We’re the bar district — more bars per block than anywhere else in the city, and at least a few years ago, the East Coast, iirc. The residential portion of the area is mostly elderly couples who’ve lived here with their families since the days the abundance of bars were serving factories instead of a vibrant nightlife. They’re angry about pretty much everything. Our police district has been stretched to cover several other communities, and so there aren’t as many beat officers keeping the drunks from peeing on their steps and yards. I don’t think there are more drunks than usual, honestly. This is to be expected when you have less police presence. They’ve only recently started talking about that though, which is very strange to me. The local rag, The South Side Reporter, is always going on about “the student problem” and there’s even a form you can fill out on their website if you’d like to complain about your student neighbors. Recently during a community meeting to yell at a developer replacing an abandoned police station/squat¹ with some condos, the developer was asked what he planned to do about keeping parents from renting/buying his units for their student children. They wanted it written into the contract that this was not allowed. (Who can even afford that luxury?) Keep students out, they insist. It’s mind boggling, to me, how anyone could think that they have a right to pick and choose their neighbors. That’s what gated communities are for, not urban communities. Perhaps they really shouldn’t be so surprised that more young people aren’t voting (or staying²) in Pittsburgh.

—-
¹ Probably the coolest building around, that I wish had been preserved and repurposed instead of torn down. Anything done to it would be an improvement and make it safer, though, and should be welcomed.
² We have the youngest mayor in the country, and I really wish he was working on this. Make this city desirable and the other problems will be solved along the way. He surely must’ve played SimCity growing up! This is basic stuff.