My car was recently towed for being illegally parked. Of course, this was aggravating, but even more so because I had parked it in a place where I had legally parked for decades. Unbeknownst to me, a new sign had gone up making the spot a no parking zone. I went to retrieve my car from the forthrightly named Brooklyn Tow Pound. This being New York, I had to pay a lot of money to retrieve the vehicle, but I was surprised that in addition to the $185 “Total Tow Pound Fees,” which does not cover the parking ticket, I also had to pay a “Convenience Fee: Non Refundable” of $3.70. First, if any of the rest of the money I paid is refundable, please tell me how I claim it. Second, while the people at the pound were efficient and pleasant, how can anyone label a fee in retrieving a towed car a “convenience?”
The pro in a tennis clinic said that a point in doubles should last less than ten seconds. Manny, a co-participant in the clinic looked thoughtful and said, “That sounds like my early love life.”
As it looked as if Dorian would slam into Florida, a Miami official said during a TV interview that southern Florida had adopted new building codes since Hurricane Andrew went through in 1992 the, at least in this case, ironically named Sunshine State. New construction would now weather the rain and winds better than in the past. I thought, “Oh, building codes. Those are a set of regulations.” Then I thought, “Oh, regulations are effective in protecting property and people.” And then I thought, “Regulations are just another way of saying protections.”
Walking with Samuel Beckett one fine spring morning, a friend of his asked, “Doesn’t a day like this make you glad to be alive?” “I wouldn’t go as far as that,” Beckett replied. Sigrid Nunez, The Friend.
On the radio, I heard the prime minister of the United Kingdom described as “a racist, a homophobe, a misogynist, and a sexist.” Do these traits invariably come as a set? For example, are there racists who are also militant feminists?
I was ten and helping set up a meeting room in the church basement with two men parishioners. One asked me to get him an extension cord from a storage closet. When I brought it to him, he told me to hand him the female end of the cord. I was mystified and he said, “The part the prongs go into.” I asked, “Why is it called female?” He stopped and shot a nervous glance to the other man. He looked so uncomfortable that I thought that he was blushing. He mumbled something that was too soft for me to hear and quickly turned his back and started moving some tables. That was the end of the inquiry. I had to learn more about male and female plugs, as I did on related topics, from the streets and playgrounds.
I am Trump, Donald J.
I do not apologize.
I claim “fake news” and bray
Bigger self-serving lies.
“Without clear language, there is no standard of truth.” John LeCarré.