Today is Memorial Day
Today is the day that America marks those who died in military service to the nation. Unfortunately, for many of us who happen to be alive, it's just a day off from work.
Previously, I've posted on the numbers of American soldiers, sailors and airmen, who have died so that we can have this day off, so we can read blogs on the internet, so we can buy that shirt at the mall at 30% off today, etc. But today I'd like to reflect on one battle of one war in which America fought.
On September 17, 1862, Gen. Robert E. Lee attempted to invade the North in Maryland. Twenty-three thousand men died in 11 hours. That's nearly 2,000 men per hour; 33 men every minute. Interestingly, that's 4 times the number of Americans who died in the initial D-Day invasion.
Few people remember this battle, but it remains the single bloodiest day in American history. In many historians' eyes, it cemented the fate of the South, and it directly led to Pres. Lincoln signing the Emancipation Proclamation. It was also the first battlefield ever photographed in America without the casualties having first been removed. The images are grisly even today.
The Roman orator, Cicero, said that to be ignorant of what happend before you were born, is to forever remain a child. Let us never forget, and never cease trying to remember that far braver, stronger, and better men and women have come and died before us so that we can live in peace.
To fallen soldiers let us sing
where no rockets fly nor bullets wing
Our broken brothers let us bring
to the mansions of the Lord
No more bleeding no more fight
No prayers pleading through the night
just divine embrace, eternal light
in the mansions of the Lord
Where no mothers cry and no children weep
We will stand and guard tho the angels sleep
All through the ages safely keep the mansions of the Lord
Hey, how come we haven't heard anything about Pope BD16 recently? I wonder what he's up to.
Fear and Loathing in Gotham
I wonder if the Algonquin Indians, who inhabited what is now known as Manhattan Island, ever thought that their small parcel of land would eventually become the home one of the world’s largest cities. I bet not. Rather, they probably thought that giving up the island for about $430 (2005 dollars) was a good deal. According to one source the median price of an apartment in Manhattan is more than $650,000. Such has been the negotiation success of native peoples in America.
When God was younger and experiencing the pangs of boredom that come along with being omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent, he decided to study human psychology. He put a bunch of humans down in a maze and watched it for a while. But then he got bored and forgot about it, perhaps he slid it under his bed or on top of all the board games in his closet. Either way, when he eventually picked it up again, he found that the humans had put some lights on and called it New York City.
New York seems to make you hard. I was only there two days, and I became rather indifferent to the people walking by. I looked at the homeless man who had defecated on himself, pretending to jump rope (that was only two feet long), and mumbling as a curiosity, not with empathy. Why? Because New York is a city where if you start caring about what you see, you won’t find any respite. It is a city privileged and infected with the best and worst of what America has to offer, and I think you could walk past 1,000 examples on any given block.
Little Italy/Chinatown: Since these two ethnic enclaves are located so close to each other, I figured I’d write about in the same blurb. Don’t go there. I’m kidding. I guess I expected more authentic stuff, and judging from the fish markets we passed by on a side-street, authentic does exist there. But the main portion of Chinatown geared toward tourists who want cheap crap. Little Italy was mainly composed of restaurants.
Museum of Modern Art: Six floors of objects whose artistic value is questionable. But it was worth the price of admission—free after 4pm on Fridays.
Harlem: So two white guys are walking down the street in Harlem. Which one gets accused of being fascinated with African American genitalia first? That’s right, your humble blogger here. As we passed by what seemed to be an amateurish lecture given by an obviously disgruntled black man—the topic of which appeared to be the history of black mutilation at the hands of whites—I was accused of, like my white ancestors, of having a fascination with “the black man’s penis.”
The Bronx: Like Harlem except it seemed to have more people; required you to walk up and down hills; and was more congested. It truly was like I was in a different world. So much activity between the cars on the streets and the people on the sidewalk—much more heightened than on the island for some reason.
Grimaldi’s: A pizzeria located under the Brooklyn bridge. It’s obviously an Italian place, but, interestingly enough, they don’t take credit cards or checks. It’s an all cash business. I’ve heard of these businesses—sham operations to launder money. But the food is good. Do I really care that 10% of my $20 pie went to whack some Soprano?
I’ll try to post more later…
The LSAT is the most mind-numbing test I've ever faced. I suppose it should be a good sign that I'm taking it on June 6, the anniversary of D-Day.
