Imma Gonna Riot

I live a bit west of Baltimore - about 75 miles.  There's a mountain ridge between the Socialist State of MD and I.  That's deliberate, both because I prefer to live in mountains and because the US hasn't learned anything and cities like D.C. (also close) and Baltimore are very vulnerable to major terrorist attack.  Also because I got tired of the bubble of liberal stupid that those areas are encased in and I had to leave or lose what little mind I had left.

But I still visit.  Baltimore has enough to offer to make day trips worth while.  Like the annual Kinetic Sculpture Race, scheduled for this coming Saturday.  Said race is always followed by my spending money in the city.  A lot of people spending money in the city.

No Race on Saturday, though, because the city has been afflicted with Stupid.

So dangerous that the Baltimore Orioles played to an empty stadium - the game was closed to the public.  They won (they'll undo that by the end of the season), but a whole lot of income was lost.  The vendors there don't live on wins, they live on filled seats.

I did gain a new hero, at least.

You go, momma!  And why weren't there a whole bunch of other parents out there doing the same thing?

After the idiocy of St. Swisher, I gotta tell you that I am disinclined to believe that there was wrong-doing on the part of the police officers involved.  If there was, then appropriate measures should be taken.  But you know what?  It helps you to avoid injury by police if you aren't prone to committing crimes. Really.  Give it a try.

Nearly 100 police officers injured because initially they were ordered not to put on riot gear.  Millions of dollars in damage.  The mayor of Baltimore, Rawlings-Blake?  "Let them loot, it's just property."  Dear Ms. Rawlings-Blake:  Let's move them all to your front yard and turn them loose on YOUR property and see how you feel.  Like your car?  Aw, too bad.  It's in flames.  But, after all, it's just property.

Yeah, yeah.  I get it.  The US is a racist country.  So racist that a black president has been elected twice.  So racist that we've had a black Secretary of State, a black National Security Adviser.  So racist that states have or have had black governors and major cities have or have had black mayors.  Rawlings-Blake being one of those black mayors.  So racist that we have dumped trillions of tax dollars into the black community in the last 50 years only to see conditions worsen as we fed an entitlement mentality that destroyed black families in a way that would make slavers proud and Martin Luther King weep.

OK, I'll give you that last one.  The Great Society was and still is racist.  Dear whites who support it: you may have missed the memo but treating a whole group of people as if they are incapable of doing anything without government help is VERY racist.  Dear blacks who support it: here's a link to the definition of "useful idiot."

Bet most people don't know, though, that while rioters concentrated downtown were demanding justice for their latest criminal martyr, some of their fellow travelers were also busy in the Baltimore suburb of Dundalk.    Richard Fletcher, 61, is recovering from the beating he received from a group of teens and adults.  You can read the story here.

Let's see, black criminals get riots, groveling, positive or flamingly stupid media coverage (See Cuomo and Salon. But IDIOT ALERT) and the promise of more money being thrown down the bottomless hole of the race-baiting industry.  White non-criminals get medical bills and largely ignored by the major media.

Obviously, I've been doing things wrong.  SOMEBODY (that would be you, dear taxpayer) needs to start buying me STUFF.  Or maybe I should just go over to the local Walmart, break some things up, set a couple fires, and walk out with a new TV.  After all, I was born into a poor family - I deserve it.  So imma gonna riot.  Seems to work for a bunch of people these days.

Interlude - Vacation 2012

Well, first it took a while for my sister to get the pictures to me, and then it took forever for me to get them downloaded so I could blog it. It's only a month and a half late, but here goes.

First, I lied.  I said it was a stay-cation, but it wasn't.  I just didn't think it was a good idea to broadcast all over the web that my house was going to be empty for a week.  And it was ALMOST a stay-cation:  my sister and I spent the week in Baltimore doggy sitting while my daughter went to Myrtle Beach.  So we were sort of local.

Vacationing in Baltimore probably seems like a strange idea to many, but the city does have much to offer other than crime.  Granted, you have to have a certain trash tolerance, but it has its own special charm (yes, charm) mixed in with grit and ghetto.  Not to mention museums, top notch restaurants, and easy access to Maryland's Eastern Shore.

Peggy arrived on the Amtrak on Friday afternoon, we headed to Baltimore on Saturday.  We've started making vacation "to do" lists, and first on the list is always the Whetsell-Felton Reunion, which I blogged about last year.  There was an added joy this year:  on the Thursday before some cousins in Wheeling happened to stumble on my blog from the year before and thought "Why don't we go?"  JFelton is over on my followers list, and he probably has gotten tired of waiting for me to blog about it.  Sorry, cuz, no excuse but laziness about a long blog.  Hope you are still there.  I don't remember JFelton's dad, although as a small child I'm sure I knew him because I knew his brothers Jim and Wayne, both first cousins of my Dad.

There was some sorrow this year - Aunt Jean had died shortly before, and that leaves a big hole.  She wasn't an aunt by blood, but she and Uncle Walter were so close when we were kids that we never stopped calling them that.  Uncle Walter is bent from back problems, nearing 90, and more frail, but he still is so much the same in many ways.  Doesn't drive but still gets out on the tractor on the farm.

That would be my "kissin' cousin" Cindy, his daughter, laughing in the background.

Bud brought his friend Franklin with him this year:

And Franklin, on a leash and pulling his cart, led the Chicken Dance, much to everyone's merriment:

There were some folks looking disturbingly frail this year.  They are pushing or beyond 90, and while I know they will one day not be there just as so many others no longer are, I dread the day their faces are missing from the gathering.  Like Aunt Jean, their loss will be a loss of a piece of my childhood.

But the nice thing is that many young people are coming back, and there are a couple generations carrying it on.

A trip over to the old Felton farm, piling into a pickup truck and laughing uproariously as we bounced up the trail to the family graveyard, introducing a whole new generation to their ancestors laying under the headstones.

And then a quieter, exhausted trip back to Baltimore. Dogs to let out and feed, collapse into bed.

Monday was closer to home - Fort McHenry.  The War of 1812 has always been a bit of a puzzle to me.  In my mind it goes:  We declare war on Britain because they won't abide by the treaty boundaries in the north and they keep impressing our sailors into service on their ships.  Britain kicks us all over the place except at Baltimore because we are in no way prepared for a war with anybody.  Britain gets tired and goes home and eventually says "bag it" and signs another treaty with us and the war ends.  Except in New Orleans where Jackson wipes the floor with the Brits because they didn't know the war was over.  And even there if the British general had been given time to exploit a weakness in Jackson's flank it could have gone another way.  But he received orders to quit, so he withdrew after having his butt handed to him by the Yanks. I know that a famous battle cry came out of it, but "Remember the Raisin!" just doesn't do much for me.

I suppose everyone knows that Fort McHenry withstood massive bombardment during the war, and the flag flying over it as the sun came up and the mist cleared was the Star Spangled Banner we sing of.  There is also a museum at Flag House, the home of the woman who made the flag.  The big flagpole is now standing where it was during the battle - the underground supporting timbers of the original were found just a few years ago.

 They had bigger guns than I do.

And a bit more gunpowder in the house than I do.

They also didn't store their ammunition under the bed like I do.

Then it was off to explore the old sea port of Fells Point.

I don't like driving in the city and the GPS didn't know about blocked streets.  But I knew that if I kept the harbor immediately on my right and just followed roads around it to the east I'd get to where I wanted to be.  And then I discovered the trick I used for the rest of the week - US 83 becomes President Street, follow south until the Katyn Monument fountain circle, duck into a parking garage and walk everywhere from there.

The garages are expensive, but saved me a nervous breakdown.  And, really, downtown Baltimore doesn't cover that much area, so it's very walkable as long as you pay attention to staying out of the ghetto. 

Harbor sights are both iconic and gritty:

And sometimes you stand and wonder how anything could be so industrial and beautiful at the same time.

Fells Point was founded in 1730, and in addition to the old buildings, it hosts 120 pubs.  We've only just started working on that.

And restaurants, oh does Fells Point have restaurants!  We ate in the area twice, at Kali's Mezza and at Roy's , both of which I can highly recommend.

With the weather so good, a bike ride was in order, so one day we loaded up and went over to Blackwater Wildlife Refuge to bike and eagle spot.  There was a hitch at the beginning - we stopped to replace my broken bike chain and when we went to leave the store my battery made sad sounds.  I had been told that I'd need a new one by winter.  Well, thank goodness for AutoZone a block away, because the battery decided that that was the day it would give up the ghost completely.  Only a hitch, replaced it, and went on.  Nice day, nice ride, several eagles, plenty of other wildlife.

Then dinner on a porch in old Annapolis, a tradition after a Blackwater ride.

Closer by, a day in Ellicott City. Having been "born" in 1772 it's a little younger than Fells Point and Annapolis, but full of history and antique shops, both fascinating. 

Back on the road and over to St. Michael's for a day, where we barely scratched the "to do" list with a little walking, a river tour, and a lot of steamed crabs, shrimp, and beer on the deck at the Crab Claw.

We happened to be there the evening of the blue moon, and watched it rise as we ate.

Another day was spent back in the harbor area exploring the Civil War side of Baltimore, and then it was over.  Peggy back to NC, and me back to WV.  It took me 3 days to get over the physical exhaustion because we never stopped moving, but it was a great vacation.  And there is still a lot on the "to do" list that we have to do.

The hill, you say!

Yeah, hills, with the bike not shifting smoothly.  But fun anyway.

My orders were to arrive at my daughter's house by 11:30 on Saturday.  And bring something decent to wear.  Well, OK.  She knows me - "something decent" means "clean and unstained and not a t-shirt".   Done, and turns out surprise is a matinee at the Hippodrome in Baltimore.  We're addicted to this place - for those who have never been, it's a spectacularly renovated vaudeville theater originally built in 1914:

For more pics go to this a renovation blog

The show - "South Pacific", splendidly done.  As a reviewer wrote, the music from this show is virtually coded into our DNA, but it is just as fresh in this revival as when it was first heard.

The show was followed by a spectacular dinner at Alchemy, where I had the duck breast special.

The reason behind matinee rather than evening show was the need for being in Canton by the harbor early for Tour du Port 2011.

Riders select from a variety of ride lengths along marked routes through historic Baltimore:  Fells Point, Canton, Dundalk, all those neat little communities that the core of Baltimore is made up of.  Being Baltimore, there are sections where one prefers to pedal a bit faster and stay with a pack, but part of what makes the city so facinating is how fast you go from gritty slum to gentrified, rust belt to upscale. 

The city has so many icons in the harbor area:

The Domino's factory -

Natty Bo on Brewery Hill -

The onion domes of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church -

I admit - I stole most of those pics.  We opted for the 25 mile route, and having done the ride before I knew that I didn't want to carry a my camera, which isn't an itty bitty.  Baltimore's streets are a challenge to bike on - often decayed, potholed and uneven.  And that doesn't include the cobbled streets.  And hills.  People think that because it's by the water the topography is flat.  That would be a "No."  And turns out my gears need adjusting - not such a problem going down hill when I could coast and fiddle but a bugger on the long hauls up Federal Hill and up to Patterson Park. 

All went well for about 24 1/2 miles.  Then, within sight of the end, my daughter misjudged a curb and took a dandy tumble, taking a chunk out of the end of her bike seat as well as several out of herself.

So we limped back together, found the first aid table and cleaned as much of Baltimore city grit out as we could.  It was too beautiful to go home, though, so the afternoon was spent poking around Fells Point, having another excellent meal (seated outside - I could barely stand sitting beside stinky, sweaty self let alone ask a restaurant patron to do so), this time at Mezza, a tapas place.

Baltimore has a lot of problems, serious ones.  But it is a city full of character and history, art museums and parks, theater venues, and restaurants worthy of the foodie culture.  Whether it's Honfest, the Kinetic Sculpture Race, or a music concert going on in some church basement, there's always something going on, and I love to visit with my daughter and wander it with her.  But she won't let me drive - she says I scare her.