Even worse, former Riverside resident and Antiques Road Show hostess whatshername was spotted fighting it out over a commode at an antique show in Milford.
Monthly Archives: July 2010
A dozen dead fish float up in Bruce Park pond. The reporter claims that ‘[i]t was unclear Saturday night what had killed the fish, and it couldn’t be determined what kind of fish they were.”
I can’t blame the reporter for not knowing his fish – very few GT reporters seems to know much about anything – but I sure can blame him or her for sheer laziness. Pick one up and take it down to Sportsman’s Den on River Road, for heaven’s sake, or call a fisherman – any fisherman. There aren’t that many fish types in this area of the sound and identification should be pretty simple.
To my eye, judging from the pictures, it looks like a bunker die-off, which happens every time this year, when oxygen is depleted. Do you remember when, back in the early 80s (?) we had them die by the hundreds of thousands? The stench was horrendous and local residents demanded the town bring in heavy earth moving equipment to remove them. Then- First Selectman John Margenot refused to incur the expense, saying something to the effect that “God put them there, God will take them away”. In the event, God sent sea gulls and crabs to do His work for Him, but it was one of the few acts of our Selectman that I highly approved of.
Here’s what four months of duplicity and bullshit eventually produces. Mind you, the acerbic tone comes from a writer who trusted this particular agent as a friend and warded off warnings from a real estate lawyer that the agent was a fraud and a crook and so ended up looking like a fool to his own client.
Dear XXX – thank you for your offer to “discuss the status of negotiations”, but you apparently don’t understand the status of this deal: it’s binary: 0/1, yes/no. Mr. XXX is, if possible, even more disgusted and embittered from being jerked around by you than I am and he’s made his last, final, non-negotiable offer. Accept it, and retrieve a sale, or he walks, period. Neither of us is interested in “status reports”, and there will be no further negotiations. Period. If I can make this any clearer, please advise. Otherwise, a yes or no on Monday is imperative.
No, not because of anything they’ve done to me, but my mother has expressed fear that, if she needed assistance, they might not come because of what I’ve said about them. That is absolutely ludicrous – the GPD is the least corrupt, most professional police force I have ever encountered, and there is zero – absolute zero chance that they would hesitate for one second if she called for help (maybe two seconds if I called, but still, they’d come : ) ).
But my Mom will soon be 86, and if my blogging about cops makes her nervous, then I won’t do it. Bill Clark, perhaps you can take over the task for now.
UPDATE: For that matter, were I to see a Greenwich cop in trouble, you can bet that I would charge to his assistance. It’s what honorable people do.
Maxine Waters, acknowledged by all Washington observers to be the dumbest, most ignorant representative presently serving in Congress, is being investigated for trying to get the federales to save her husband’s crooked bank. Does she scoot, like Charlie Rangel or will she be a whacked as an example that, by golly, Pelosi is going to drain the swamp? I’m betting on the latter but then, I’m a bit cynical.
From Old Coot, on Charlie Rangel getting a pass:
Where’s Last Liberal Standing on this? I’m guessing he must be waiting for his talking points from Kos.
As I’ve confessed here before, LLS, I respect your opinions, much as I disagree with them. But I am curious – what do you think should have been done with Rangel? And no, this isn’t a challenge – I’m quite sincere in my respect for you, which is all the more reason to ask what an intelligent liberal (and I, for one, do not necessarily consider that an oxymoron) thinks should have been done – forget his party – if need be, assume he’s a Republican. Any thoughts?
One of my more humorous encounters with police (I did tell you of discussing philosophy with a Pennsylvania state trooper who, searching my backpack when I was a 16-year-old hitchhiker , discovered a volume of “The Collected Works of Bertrand Russell”?) was a late night run through Wiscasset, past midnight, heading with a friend to his house near Round Pond. I was probably doing 80 – hey, no one else (besides the unseen trooper) was on the road – but I was nailed dead to rights. I found my registration right away and handed it over but, fumbling through my wallet I couldn’t immediately find my driver’s license but did come across my Greenwich Clam Warden id, so I gave him that to entertain him while I continued the search for my license. I did find it, eventually, but by then the cop had examined the Clam Warden card and he handed it back to me and said, “okay, you can go, but slow down, would you?”.
Gotta love seafaring towns and police discretion.