Mrs. Wife has had a bee in her bonnet for quite some time about taking the kiddies to the Bronx Zoo. It’s not that far geographically, but it’s a treacherous ride because of the traffic and all the complex twists and turns you need to take once you exit the George Washington Bridge. I successfully evaded the subject for six years but she finally won out and we went on Saturday. Well, I was right, and that doesn’t happen too damn often. We sat in August summer traffic for almost two solid hours. At times we were at a dead-stop. My righteousness filled the car and turned it into a pressure cooker. Yay me.

The Zoo was lovely but the common theme that ran through all the exhibits was how mankind is destroying the animal kingdom. I ended up feeling personally responsible for mutilating the habitats of all the fuzzy animals in the world. I just wanted to look at a stupid giraffe, not be lectured to about how there is a direct link between myself and the extinction of certain species. Outside of the tiger exhibit they set up a “poacher’s truck” so you could see what the tools of the tiger poaching trade look like. Tiger traps, nets, pelts, etc. Mrs. Wife had to explain to 6-Year Old Daughter what poaching was. Fun.

Zoos are no longer a place where animals sit in cold grey cages. They live in areas that replicate their natural habitat as closely as possible. That’s lovely and humane, but the problem is that the animals are able to stay very well hidden. More often than not, you have to settle for a quick peek of a swish of a tail from behind a mound of grass.

We stopped for lunch. I didn’t expect the healthiest cuisine, and I was right. The menu contained a lot of fried junk and sandwiches with melted cheese dripping off the sides. I was walking to our table and thinking that people really should start eat healthier (myself included) and I turned a corner and saw this:

Holy mother of Jesus! Hide the children! Now, ain’t that America? I momentarily felt bad about taking the photo, but I got over it pretty quickly. They should throw her in the lion pen. We’d finally get to see some wildlife and she could certainly use the exercise.

July and August is the dead zone for the theater in Manhattan, which is a bit of a drag for me because it’s something I really enjoy. It sustains me through the long commutes and endless hours spent chained to a desk. There are very few theatrical openings. The fall season won’t begin in earnest for another month. Next up: Jeremy Piven in Mamet’s Speed-The-Plough. How do you like them apples?

For a lark, I got a ticket to a production of Around The World in 80 Days at the Irish Rep. Honestly, the story didn’t interest me at all—I’m not a big Jules Verne fan—but the Irish Rep is sure-fire and I had read a few nice notices. What I hoped would be a pleasant diversion and an excuse to avoid the Friday evening city exodus was actually an amazing display of stamina and dedication. There were only six people in the cast and four of them covered over a dozen roles. They worked their asses off. They made it look easy. And fun. You wouldn’t think that they could do justice to such an expansive story on such a small stage and with only a few meager props but they were pretty amazing. The audience was great. They laughed in all the right places and you could see how the actors fed off of that. I love a good sneak attack.

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Two posts ago I spewed my stupidity all over the Olympics. I bad-mouth China. Said I didn’t care. Well, I caught the opening ceremonies and guess what? I softened my heart a bit. I am still no fan of the oppressive government. I cringed while watching the goose-stepping military regiment and Chinese corporations continue to strip Africa of her natural resources. But the opening ceremony was a breathtaking spectacle. Lord, they have a beautiful culture and people, don’t they?

According to a New York Times Article:

It’s No Boo-Boo: Bandages as Fashion Accessories

WHEN Nicholas James Brown prepares to go out for cocktails at the Tribeca Grand or to a clambake in the Hamptons, he sticks on a few boldly patterned Band-Aids by the Brazilian fashion designer Alexandre Herchcovitch.

… the colorful strips are an important accessory, and he’s careful to coordinate them with his Kris Van Assche sweater or his Balenciaga bag.

Do I need to just lighten up? You can tell me. I won’t be offended. But they seem take this very seriously, which feeds my nausea. Sometimes I wonder why I still live here.

Are you familiar with I Kissed A Girl by Katy Perry? Sure, you are. I liked it enough the first few times I heard it but it has worn out its welcome for me. Do you suppose if it were a guy singing I Kissed A Boy it would have been as big a hit? Of course not. Not a chance. Why is that, I wonder? Why is one image acceptable to the masses and the other not? It shouldn’t make a bit of difference, right? Personally, I’d much rather imagine two girls kissing, but that’s just me. If you’re a guy and you kissed a boy and you liked it, then have at it. There’s plenty where that came from. I hear.

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Do you care that the Olympics are about to start? Not only am I not interested, but I’ve actually developed some antagonistic feelings towards the Olympics. The integrity of the games has been compromised because of all the doping—some countries do it, others don’t—and I don’t think China is an deserving host. There’s a picture in today’s New York Times of the U.S. athletes arriving in the Beijing airport and they’re all wearing surgical masks because, apparently, the air is so foul and polluted they’re concerned it might negatively impact their performance.

The Chinese government has selectively blocked internet access for visiting journalists. Oh yea, and they torment people. I’m happy that New York lost out on an Olympic bid. No, thanks. Lotsa’ luck, London. Hosting the Olympics is the road to both civic glory and fiscal ruin. Get outta’ town, Bob.

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Also in the Times today is a really compelling and harrowing article about the recent deaths on K2. Mountain climbers always seem like a brave and heroic bunch to me until something goes awry. Then you look into what went wrong and they end up looking like a bunch of bumbling idiots. This group tried to ascend the most challenging peak on the planet—more difficult than Everest—using shoddy, second-rate equipment. Jaysus.