Soodhalter’s Informagoriam

I am not sure what is going on, but there is a big commotion outside on Broad Street, where I live in South Philly. It may be some sort of riot. Everybody seems cheerful, but that is how these things always start. I took some pictures and videos just to confirm that this commotion was taking place. People in Philadelphia just seem to constantly want to make a ruckus for no good reason. Here are the pics and video. I will document this phenomenon further and discover its cause:

Unexplained Commotion of Broad on the 29th of October 2008

Here’s a little tidbit of information I picked up today from a reliable source. Apparently, there are some odd statutes governing chicken ownership in Seattle, WA. Apparently, one can own no more than 37 chickens in West Seattle. If one lives in the eastern part of the city, he or she can own up to 54 without a permit. With a a permit in the eastern part of the city, one can own up to 146 chickens.

The laws governing chicken ownership in Seattle are quite outdated. The original legal codes were laid out by Seattle’s two founders, Borden Calwood and Jeremiah Fancybottom. Apparently, a rift developed between them over their differing interpretations of a line of scripture regarding chicken ownership. As a result, the settled land was split in two. Calwood took the west, and Fancybottom took the east. Thus, chicken ownership laws have developed differently on each side of the city, and each governs residents’ ability to keep chickens in their homes in its own way.

What I find even more fascinating is how much of Seatle’s municipal politics is still colored by the disagreements of its two founders. City politicians generally do not align with either of the major national parties. Locally, however, most politicians identify as either as Calwoodians or Fancybottomites. The Calwoodians believe that city government should be able to strictly limit the number of chickens a city resident might own while Fancybottomites believe the government should be slightly less strict in its chicken ownership statutes.

What is interesting to me is that most citizens who self-identify as Fancybottomites do not own 146 (or even 54) chickens. Most own no more than one or two chickens, if they own any at all. They neither have the means nor the time to properly care for so many poultry animals. Most self-identifying Fancybottomites simply want to allow for the possibility that they may one day have the means to own 146 chickens. They do not want the city government to be slightly more restrictive of their theoretical rights to chicken ownership.

My conclusion after learning this information is that I do not think I could live in Seattle. I would get too caught up in city politics. I have firm views on the powers of government as it relates to poultry, and the political environment would be toxic for someone like me.

My site laid mostly dormant for a couple of months as I prepared for and took some exams. The good news is, I have no more exams. That is a relief because I just do not think I can spend any more time studying for such things. Since then, I have been working hard, with little time to take care of this business. However, it is time I take control. I have many observations to unload onto the internet. Here are some things I have observed as I walk around this wonderful city.

Xanax for Nerve Problems

During the summer, I paid a visit to my neighborhood bank. I needed forty-two nickels, and the bank is the most logical place to get such change. Afterward, I asked the teller if the bank happened to sell stamps. I needed a stamp to mail the nickels to Obama; he is the change candidate. The bank did not sell stamps, but the teller pointed me to a small pharmacy across the street, explaining that the pharmacist sells stamps. It is a family owned establishment, something one doesn’t see that often any more. I crossed the street and as I stepped onto the sidewalk, a man on a Vespa almost mowed me down as he rode up on the sidewalk. He stopped abruptly and appeared to be in a big hurry. Still, he took the time to lock up his Vespa as I walked into the pharmacy. The pharmacy is owned by a Vietnamese man, the pharmacist. His daughter also works behind the counter. She was the one who helped me. I asked for a stamp and at first she said the pharmacy does not sell stamps, but her father corrected her. At the same time, the Vespa rider entered and got the attention of the pharmacist. I was just trying to get rung up for my stamp so I could mail my change, but I could not help but overhear their conversation. The Vespa rider was pleading with the pharmacist for some Xanax (a common anti-anxiety medication). The man was clearly not a regular customer of the pharmacy. He just was popping in to make an unusual request. Of course, the pharmacist rebuffed him immediately. However, the Vespa rider had a plan. He explained to the pharmacist that he had sustained a deep gash on his left leg. This gash was quite painful, the Vespa rider explained. I think the pharmacist was bemused at this point. The gash in the leg did not warrant distribution of Xanax. The Vespa rider was also talking quite fast and English was not the pharmacist’s first language, so I think this also made the conversation more difficult. The Vespa rider would not be deterred. In his mind, the pharmacist simply did not believe that there was a leg gash. So, the Vespa rider came around to where I was standing at the register and lifted his pant leg to show the nasty gash. He explained it was quite painful. The pharmacist responded, “but, Xanax for your nerve!” The Vespa rider responded, “but the nerves in my leg are why the gash is painful!” At that point my transaction was completed, and I left before the situation could escalate further.

The Secret Lives of Contractors

I like to ride my bike around the city. As bikeable as the city is, I always have to watch for careless drivers who pass quite close to me so I do not get clipped by a rear view mirror. The other day, I was on eleventh street heading south when a couple of contractor-types buzzed past me in order to get to the red traffic light before I did. I was upset, but their windows were open, and they seemed to be the types who might respond to my vitriolic complaints by getting out of the truck and distributing beatings about my body. So, I kept quiet and pulled up to the side of the bed of their truck. Since their windows were open, I could hear their conversation. This is what I heard:

Driver: Hey man. I’ve been wonderin’. Do fleas fly?
Passenger: No man. Fleas don’t fly; they jump.
Driver: Oh okay. What flies then?
Passenger: Horseflies fly.
Driver: Thanks. I’ve been wonderin’ about that for a while now.

I guess his gears were turning; they just were not that productive. It was worth almost getting hit by that truck just to hear the snippet of conversation .

DVDs DVDs DVDs

I moved to South Philly a couple of months ago, and I am loving it. Not only is rent cheaper, but the area is just teeming with interesting characters. Every day, when I walk on Broad Street, I pass a Dunkin’ Donuts. The front of the store seems to have become a hangout for local ne’er-do-wells. They stand around or sit on their requisitioned milk crates. Always present is a dirty, disheveled, bald man selling bootleg DVDs that he keeps in a satchel. Now, I don’t know how the bootleg DVD market operates. I did see that episode of Seinfeld, though. I imagine that in New York City, it is out in the open. This Dunkin’ Donuts DVD man, however, is running a covert operation. He paces around, somewhat erratically, on the sidewalk mumbling, “DVDs DVDs DVDs.” He always trails off by the third one so as not to draw attention to himself. It is almost as if he is working for somebody in a thankless job and does not really care if anyone hears him because he gets paid even if he does not sell anything. Once, I stopped in the Dunkin Donuts, and while I was waiting in line, the DVD man came in for some coffee. I noticed that as he waited in line, he kept mumbling his advertisement for DVDs, almost as if it was some sort of tic. Another time, I actually got to see him roping in a customer. He opened his satchel to display his library. For a bag full of bootleg DVDs, his selection was atrocious. I have never heard of any of his movies. I saw one called Fist and another called Flagrant Fowl: The True Story of Big Bird…(Okay, I made that second movie up, but I hope one day it does exist). This guy is doing a half-assed job of selling second tier bootleg DVDs. I do not foresee him ever moving his way up in the organization.

Stay tuned for more…