He Says He's On Fire

Re: THE BUDWEISER STORY

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 07:36:09 GMT

You've probably gotten an email at least once in the past 8 years entitled "The Budweiser Story". As has become her habit in the past couple years, my grandmother forwarded it to me yesterday after having received it from another of her friends, pretty much without having read it beforehand. As I do with most of the things she forwards to me, I deleted it without reading it. However, my sister later replied to grandma, indicating that she didn't like the content of the story.

So I went ahead and read it, and afterward decided to send the following message to everyone I could see in the thread who had forwarded it down the line (only 9 people) -- none of whom I know personally. I considered sending it to everyone to whom it had been forwarded, but I'd like to think of them as innocent bystanders in the whole mess.

I'm interested to see what kind of responses I get.

---

Greetings,

You probably don't know me, and have never even heard my name. I'm no one especially noteworthy, famous or even a public figure. I received the email below from one of the many people to whom you (and everyone previous to you) forwarded it. Normally when an email like this arrives in my inbox, I dismiss it outright and send it straight to my trash folder. However, this being the eve of September 11th (when I began writing this), I feel compelled to respond to the content -- and apparent intent -- of the story with an account of my own, concerning Arabic-speaking people with whom I was familiar at the time.

On September 11th, 2001, I arrived at my office in San Francisco having already heard the horrible news about the airplane crashes in New York and Washington, DC. While the details about the identities and origins of the hijackers had not yet been confirmed, it was already clear that these were deliberate attacks. The suggestion that they had been carried out by Middle Easterners (or Muslims) was widely inferred and conjectured, but hadn't yet been positively determined.

A friend and coworker of mine, who was a resident alien from Morocco (he has since become a citizen of the United States), told me he had a bad feeling about how anyone who looked and sounded similar to him would be treated following the day's events. As he walked home that very afternoon, a man yelled at him from across the street, calling him a terrorist. In the weeks and months that followed, he described to me some of the subsequent harassment to which he was subjected, as well as the long periods of unprovoked questioning by the FBI that friends of his in our local Middle Eastern and North African communities were put through.

Within a week of the attacks, a customer of ours -- a naturalized US citizen who had immigrated from the Middle East many years before -- not only had anti-Muslim graffiti sprayed on the outside of his popular Mission District cafe, but was also the victim of a brick thrown through his business' front window. His cafe was later the location of a mayoral meeting and press conference calling for tolerance towards the Middle Eastern and North African communities. Other customers of ours -- some of whom weren't from the regions in question but were from India, Indonesia or had even been born in the United States -- also reported harassment anddefacement of property.

Note that snopes.com -- a trusted website dedicated to the verification of internet and email stories such as this one -- provides proof that the incident didn't happen:

http://www.snopes.com/rumors/budweiser.asp

Over and above proving the falsehood of "The Budweiser Story", the article indicates that the original tale has been further embellished in the years since its original circulation. There is also a reference to other, similar stories that have circulated in the intervening years:

http://www.snopes.com/rumors/dunkin.asp

A simple web search on Google, Yahoo! or other search engines, using key words such as "September 11th", "Sikh", "Muslim", "beaten", "harassed", etc. points to dozens, perhaps hundreds or thousands, of similar, verifiable incidents in which people -- often American citizens -- were falsely and unjustly attacked simply because they looked or sounded "funny".

Think about it: Have you ever personally seen a donut shop employee burn the American Flag? Did you personally hear a convenience store owner joke and laugh about the events of September 11th? Have you personally seen or heard anything like that at all? Now think about whether you personally have ever heard slurs about Muslims, Indians, Asians or anyone else for that matter.

You may say that your right to free speech makes it okay to disseminate information like this email. I'm a veteran of the United States Army and the Desert Storm campaign, and have therefore defended -- and will ever continue to defend -- your right to say or write whatever you want (barring libel or slander). But as you surely would in all other things, I ask that you temper your participation in spreading stories like this one with moral, ethical consideration for the potential consequences of your actions.

Thanks for your attention.

Why I love the Wife: Reason Number 291

Thu, 25 Jun 2009 03:11:04 GMT

I posted my review of Alan Moore's "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier" a few weeks ago, over on Facebook. (For those of you unfamiliar with Moore, he's the extremely talented comic writer who is famous for hating or ignoring every film adaptation of his comics -- "Watchmen" & "From Hell" among them.) My comment was that he had gone completely off the rails; it appeared to me that before writing it he had simply randomly chosen locations from the "Dictionary of Imaginary Places" soon after attending a polyamory seminar.

So the Wife just finished reading it, and here's what she had to say: "I'm working on a theory that Alan Moore's fans have sucked all his common sense out through his dick."

RIP, funny lady.

Sat, 25 Apr 2009 23:16:12 GMT

We should have gone to the Seder

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 05:16:54 GMT

This was my review on meetup.com of the "Easter Eggstravaganza!" event we attended on Saturday, which was advertised as having 1/4-million easter eggs.

"Wow. Overcrowded, poorly organized, with ridiculously unmarked and unsupervised parking. I suppose I should have expected it from a free event, but the lines for ANYTHING and EVERYTHING were amusement-park long with very little in the way of satisfactory payoff. The toddler egg hunts were fine, but the older kid ones were essentially rude, sanctioned stampedes where children and adults trampled each other mercilessly. Maybe my standards are too high, but I saw very little in the way of polite or charitable behavior from anyone of any age, including the organizers and volunteers."

Here's where I think they went wrong: brand-new bicycles as raffle prizes. And the raffles were free! Sorry, but if you need a mountain bike as a bribe in order to spread the Word, you're doing something wrong.

My movie review of "Repo: The Genetic Musical"

Tue, 31 Mar 2009 13:20:16 GMT

It blows.

That is all.

My movie review of "Twilight"

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 16:57:19 GMT

It blows.

That is all.

Big Deal

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 04:20:19 GMT

The Daughter is in town. This is a big deal because the last time she was here I essentially kicked her out of my house. That's not the whole story obviously, and there were extenuating circumstances, but that's what I feel like I did, and that's what it felt like to her.

Anyway, she wouldn't be here right now if not for the sad circumstance of my grandmother's passing last Friday. So in an odd way I have to thank grandma for kicking the bucket and giving us another chance to try and be father and daughter instead of long-distance ... whatever.

*sigh*

Sometimes I hate being The Man, because I'd really rather be Atticus Finch. Fictional characters have answers for everything.

WORST BIRTHDAY EVER

Sat, 21 Mar 2009 07:17:57 GMT

BIRTHDAY CHECKLIST

~~Neglect to make certain son took ADHD meds before school~~
~~Eat bacon & cheddar potato wedges for breakfast~~
Nap
~~Forget to notify email host about credit card cancellation~~
~~Go swimming~~
Watch series finale of BSG
~~Watch grandma die~~

That's 0 for 2

Wed, 18 Mar 2009 03:29:17 GMT

The Man: Thanks, stupid livejournal!

The Wife: Why?

The Man: Because it just sent me an email telling me themanabides' birthday's coming up on Friday.

The Wife [to the Younger Son]: What should we get themanabides for his birthday, son? Say "pussy".

The Younger Son: No, I don't like those.

The Wife: [spit take]

Why, yes, as a matter of fact I do have too much time on my hands. Why do you ask?

Sat, 28 Feb 2009 04:43:02 GMT

I really, really enjoyed this one. Enough that I did it twice.

1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random”
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to "Random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 - Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.

5 - Post it with this text and tag the other LJ users you want to join in. Or just leave it up to whomever stumbles across it to do one if they so desire.

Here are mine:

The Heterosexual Survey

Fri, 27 Feb 2009 04:51:17 GMT

Got this from a blog by my Renaissance Faire sister, Artemis Rich. Pay attention.

---

This is a fun survey, but also an activist survey. Please repost this to your email list, blog it or use it in a group setting. Have fun with it but also let the point be made.

1. What do you think caused your heterosexuality?

My mother walked into a doorknob while pregnant with me. Either that, or all the Tab cola she drank.

2. When and where did you decide you were a heterosexual?

In the locker room at high school. Guys just smell ... wrong.

3. Is it possible this is just a phase and you will out grow it?

No, not really. I find boobs just a bit too much fun.

4. Is it possible that your sexual orientation has stemmed from a neurotic fear of others of the same sex?

Quite possibly. NASCAR and Coors have always intimidated me.

5. Do your parents know you are straight? Do your friends know- how did they react?

Well, near as I can tell, one of my parents would be insanely happy if I were queer. My friends -- they reacted in the usual way: shock, dismay, attraction.

6. If you have never slept with a person of the same sex, is it just possible that all you need is a good gay lover?

So THAT'S the problem. All my gay lovers have been BAD.

7. Why do you insist on flaunting your heterosexuality... can’t you just be who you are and keep it quiet?

No, dammit! I'm here, I drink beer, get used to it!

8. Why do heterosexuals place so much emphasis on sex?

We're trying to drown out all the violence on TV.

9. Why do heterosexuals try to recruit others into this lifestyle?

Because most of the lesbians I know are really hot.

10. A disproportionate majority of child molesters are heterosexual... Do you consider it safe to expose children to heterosexual teachers?

Why do you think I'm not a school teacher?

11. Just what do men and women do in bed together? How can they truly know how to please each other, being so anatomically different?

I have a mental list that I go through every single time I have sex, ticking each item off as I complete it. I got it out of an issue of Cosmo I surreptitiously stole from a Supercuts.

12. With all the societal support marriage receives, the divorce rate is spiraling. Why are there so few stable relationships among heterosexuals?

I think it's because we get all our sexual advice from Cosmo.

13. How can you become a whole person if you limit yourself to compulsive, exclusive heterosexuality?

Thank you for asking this question. It is a very good question. I have thought long and hard on the answer to this question.

14. Considering the menace of overpopulation how could the human race survive if everyone were heterosexual?

I'm hoping that a virulent pandemic will wipe out Australia. Then we can move there.

15. Could you trust a heterosexual therapist to be objective? Don't you feel that he or she might be inclined to influence you in the direction of his or her leanings?

I think it would depend on the environment in which the therapist treated patients. TV's Dr. Phil might be a good choice, although I kind of doubt anyone who appears as a guest on Oprah could be called straight.

16. There seem to very few happy heterosexuals. Techniques have been developed that might enable you to change if you really want to.

Would these involve some kind of Bacchanalian orgy? If so, I'm open.

17. Have you considered trying aversion therapy?

I consider all the porn I look at to be a form of this. I'll get back to you if it works.

- Martin Rochlin, Ph.D., 1972

---

ADDENDUM:
a. In case it didn't come across, this is satire, based on the types of invasive questions homosexuals have often been asked -- and occasionally forced to answer -- for years and years.
b. I'm sure the purpose of the original survey wasn't to provide answers. Just thought I'd put my own spin on it.

Golden State merely dross

Thu, 29 Jan 2009 03:05:17 GMT

Wonderful. Not just my county, but specifically my city, was mentioned in this segment:

NPR: Home Prices Hit California County's Tax Base

The selfish Californians of 30 years ago have my continuing thanks for Proposition 13, which fucked my educational funding, fucked my children's education funding, and is now fucking my county's prospects of serving the underprivileged for the next several years.

Not yet bulletproof

Tue, 27 Jan 2009 06:12:59 GMT

While messaging with a Friend of mine tonight, I came to a realization -- yet another in the long list classified as "You're Not Immortal". Let me take you back ...

---

A couple years ago, my neighbors on the corner were the victims of what would have been a drive-by shooting had the shooter not gotten out of the car, walked down and across the street, fired at the house, and waited for the car to pick him up again before speeding away. It just so happens that I had stepped out onto the front porch a few moments before, and by the dim glow of the streetlamps saw a dark, shapeless mass glide quietly from corner to corner before hearing the shots. I immediately went back inside and called the police, so did not see the car.

I don't know to this day if anyone was ever arrested, much less charged in the crime. My neighbors were all okay. We had been very careful to buy a house on what was thought of as the "right side of the highway" in an attempt to avoid situations like this.

---

Perhaps three years before that, the apartment building two lots down from our previous house was fired at in a genuine drive-by. I never found out if they were actually aiming for the apartment that my son's playmate lived in, but that's the one that ended up with two holes in its wall. When I heard the shots, I immediately told my wife to get down on the floor, and called the police.

This was not a bad neighborhood, situated as it was just a block south of Piedmont, a small, upscale town bordering Oakland.

---

One night in 1995, my buddy Dan and I walked out of the Sound Factory, a club in San Francisco that catered to hip-hop and alternative crowds. Three guys had just been thrown out of the place for fighting, and after making several threats were walking across the street ahead of us, talking in menacing tones. We watched them get into a pickup truck parked at the gas station across the street, and noted the fact that the rear license plate had been painted or taped over so it couldn't be read. On a hunch, I decided to try and memorize the truck's description, and Dan and I continued down the block toward his car.

Something told me to hold my hand out and stop Dan, and I turned my head to listen in the direction of the club. I heard screeching tires, and a moment later several distinct shots. We looked at each other and ran back up the block. There was total chaos when we got there, with several people on the ground, looking in all directions, screaming. I ran down Harrison St. and watched the pickup speed away, blowing red lights as it fled.

Dan and I stuck around for a good long time, giving our statements to the police, trading information with the bouncers. Somehow I later ended up on the club's VIP mailing list, which I only capitalized on once. I didn't feel it appropriate to take further advantage of the situation that had cost a model her career when she took a bullet in the leg, fortunately the only casualty of the night.

---

I'm never certain where a blog like this will lead when I begin it. Perhaps I relate all of this to say I'm lucky; to contrast my few experiences with the sometimes weekly -- perhaps nightly -- horrors of people who live in our country's gang territory. Maybe I'm giving some of you the opportunity for a "There, but for the grace of God" moment.

One thing is certain: it did not occur to me until literally an hour ago -- as I was writing to this friend of mine -- that had Dan and I left the club just 3 or 4 minutes later that night in 1995, we might have been victims rather than witnesses. Again, one of those mortality moments.

Too many of those these days.

My camel is in serious need of a back surgeon

Tue, 20 Jan 2009 06:40:39 GMT

About three or four years ago, we got a free couch from a co-worker's dad. Our previous hand-me-down had become lopsided from a relentlessly bouncy child -- not to mention an overweight Man -- so the timing of the availability of said new[er] couch couldn't have been more serendipitous. Actually getting the thing into our house was a journey of Odyssean proportions that involved borrowing a pickup truck, hundreds of miles of driving, threats of stormy weather and the complete removal of the front windows from our living room.

But, oh, such a couch! Soft and cushiony, with a fold-down center console that contained not only cup holders, but a speaker phone as well. Each end reclined AND had built-in massaging vibrations. So what if the brownish-gray, faux leather upholstery was a bit worn? This was the King of Couches! As it turns out, we never did take advantage of the phone or massagers. The couch was too far away from a phone jack, and the vibrations were more annoying than pleasurable or relaxing. It sure was nice, though, to put our feet up on a lazy Friday night for a movie or the Sci-Fi Channel lineup, laying back comfortably as the Wife knitted and I drank a beer.

(If you are reading this and are a parent or a pet owner, by now you've already heard the other shoe drop.)

Unfortunately, within about a year the couch had begun to show significant signs of wear, such as screws occasionally, inexplicably falling out of the undersides of the foot rests. By this evening, it was in an extremely sorry state. Large areas of the upholstery were worn down to the underweave, many of the seams torn and resewn with my heavy-handed stitches. Because of its construction, things that had fallen down under the seating required a Cirque du Soleil-level contortionist's skills to retrieve -- or just declaring them lost. Stains from countless spills, colored markers and crayons made the original color impossible to recall. And just this morning a 3-inch rip appeared out of nowhere near the center of the seating area.

The last straw to which this story's title alludes was at about 8:30 tonight, when the Younger Son spilled (or purposefully poured?) an entire bottle of Power Ade (never mind where he got it) onto -- and into -- one end of the couch. We spent about 5 minutes fooling ourselves into thinking we could salvage this sinking ship, but finally resigned ourselves to a Craig's List search after I lifted it up and disgusting blue electrolytes poured down and out of the other end. Considering (a) how difficult life has become recently and (b) the fact that the couch had always taken up a huge amount of floor space, I decided that tomorrow's big project while watching the inauguration will be to dismantle the monstrosity and get it the hell out of our lives. I will likely take pictures.

Problem. Solution. That is all.

Proof that Klansmen don't wear sweaters

Fri, 16 Jan 2009 00:11:01 GMT

Watching CNN while at the gym earlier, I was amused by the crappy closed-captioning. The story in question was about murdered civil rights activist Medgar Evers, and the anchor had said at the beginning of the piece that it contained "language that may be offensive to some viewers."

As a woman quoted harrassing remarks that included the notorious N-word, here's what the captioning said:

"You knitters move on, now."

Writer's Block: Shops Gone By

Thu, 15 Jan 2009 16:57:46 GMT

Woolworths shut its doors in the U.K. last week, sending many into a frenzy of nostalgia and bargain shopping. What now-closed store or chain do you wish was still open?

View 500 Answers

The old Banana Republic. The real Banana Republic. You know, the one that made travel and safari clothing you could count on to last forever? You know, the one I got shoes from in 1986 that still fit and haven't fallen apart?

You know, the one that didn't suck?

Messin' around with Babel Fish

Thu, 15 Jan 2009 16:43:13 GMT

I'm sure this is a long-dead meme from before the Big Bang, but as I've only recently converted from blogging Luddite, I'll pretend that I made it up.

My phrase in English: "I am the mayor of Cranky Town."
Translated into Spanish: "Soy el alcalde de la ciudad irritable."
Translated into French: "Je suis le maire de la ville irritable."
Translated into Greek: "Είμαι ο δήμαρχος της οξύθυμης πόλης."
Translated into English: "I am the mayor of [oxythymis] city."

Hooray for Telephone 2.0!

wankest of the wankety wank wank wank

Sun, 04 Jan 2009 09:48:56 GMT

I was a truly crap student from 7th through 10th grade. Bored out of my mind, probably with low-level, undiagnosed ADD, I was a clown, procrastinator and chronic masturbator (though not in class, thank goodness). I cut 2 or 3 straight weeks of school during 7th grade and still managed to pass, but the crowning glory, my lowest of the low, came during my 8th grade social science class.

My final report was called "Life of the Apache", and it was the worst piece of teenage-produced academic trash I've ever seen (with the possible exception of the Koala Report -- the Sister can post a link). We were required to include various key pieces of information about our chosen Native American tribe, such as Weapons, Food, Homes, etc. Although the overall report is impressive for 15 pages thrown together the day before it was due, the Religion and Conclusion sections are really where I proved just how much of a wienie asshat I was. I have left the spelling and grammar exactly as they were, but added italics for emphasis of true brilliance:

"There is no real name for the religion of the Apaches and, through research, I have come to the conclusion that it is to complex to include in my report. Though I will tell you that some Apaches took christianity as their religion."

When I read that passage out loud to the Wife tonight after having found the report in my garage scrapbox, she looked at me incredulously. Here's the part that made her tell me she wanted to hit me:

"I think I have learned a lot about the Apaches but I am disappointed at myself. If I had started my research sooner, I could have done a much better report. But as it is, this is my report, and it's not the best. If you, the reader, ever has to read one of my reports again, I will try to make it better."

I should have been a fucking journalist, man. That certainly could have passed muster at any of our local community weeklies. Or USA Today.

A few pics from last night and today.

Fri, 02 Jan 2009 04:20:00 GMT

Starting with the sad hilarity first, spied in my neighborhood. Talk about turning the other cheek:

I particularly like the drawing of the inflatable snowglobe that comprised the stolen display:

The boys got these for Christmas, and we "grew" them yesterday:

My favorite of our ornaments:

The delicious gorditas my neighbor's mom sent me home with:

The equally delicious tequilas they plied me with:

That is all.

The Barrel: A United Nations Memory

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 11:36:10 GMT

Given the current crisis between Israel and Gaza, I thought this might be a good time to post the story below. I've been meaning to for some time, not only because it's an interesting tale, but also because it gives an insider's perspective on "neutral observers." Although it has nothing to do with Gaza itself, it does reveal some historical context that may be welcome to those interested in international law and politics.

My grandfather (really my stepfather's dad) joined the UN on New Years Day 1948 (61 years ago today), and retired in 1978 from his final positions as Director of the General Legal Division and Deputy to the Legal Counsel (positions which, today, are on the Under Secretary level). He saw many things during his tenure, and contributed greatly to the establishment of many treaties and resolutions. In 2005, he published a limited run (essentially for family and friends) of a short book entitled "United Nations Memories," which included among other things a two page "name dropping" section of people he'd met and worked with (George H.W. Bush, Roy Cohn, Jimmy Carter, etc.). It also included the following story.

(NOTE: Having spent several hours transcribing everything below from one of my copies of Grandpa's book, I now realize that I should simply have scanned the pages themselves, and saved myself the aching wrists.)

---

THE BARREL STORY

I start these memories of the United Nations with the Barrel Story. Although it is chronologically out of place, it is perhaps the most interesting single incident and certainly one that had wide ranging repercussions for good and ill throughout my thirty year career with the United Nations and thereafter.

To understand the story one must first provide its geographical and historical setting. First geography -- we start with the Walled City of Jerusalem as a point of reference. From 1949 to 1967 the Walled City was entirely within Jordanian (or Transjordanian) control in accordance with the Armistice Agreement between Israel and Jordan. The Armistice Demarcation Line (ADL) ran along the west side of the Walled City behind the King David Hotel. To the south it crossed the Valley of Kidron (or Gehenna?) to the hill on which Government House, Headquarters of the United Nations Truce Supervision Organization (UNTSO) and residence of the Chief of Staff, was located. The hill was high enough that from the balcony of the Chief of Staff one had a good view of the Dead Sea. To the north the ADL continued to Mandelbaum Gate which was the crossing point between the "New City" under Israel control and the "Old City" under Jordanian control. Both Israel and Jordan maintained checkpoints with a "No Man's Land" in between. The headquarters of the Mixed Armistice Commission (MAC) was located at the Mandelbaum Gate, actually on the Israeli side of the ADL but with access from the Area Between the Lines. To the east of the Walled City lies the Garden of Gethsemane, and above and beyond, the Mount of Olives. To the north of the Mount of Olives a high ridge known as Mt. Scopus extended, overlooking the City. On this promontory were the buildings of Hebrew University and Hadassah Hospital (see map).

The immediately relevant history can be briefly stated. During the fighting in and around Jerusalem in the summer of 1948 the Transjordanian forces (the Arab Legion) occupied the area completely surrounding Mt. Scopus, which was held by Israeli forces. From that vantage point the Israelis threatened to shell the Temple Mount holding the Dome of the Rock and Al Aksa Mosque (sacred to Islam) if Mt. Scopus were attacked. UN officials succeeded in securing an agreement signed on 7 July 1948 providing that Mt. Scopus would be demilitarized and placed under UN supervision and protection. All military personnel would be withdrawn but armed police and custodial personnel would be allowed to take care of the buildings. Every two weeks a convoy under UN and Arab Legion protection was permitted to go up Mt. Scopus from Israel through Jordanian controlled territory to take necessary supplies and a change of guard. Under the armistice agreement concluded between Israel and Jordan in 1949 and the map attached, Mt. Scopus was included in Jordanian controlled territory. The only mention of Mt. Scopus in the agreement was in relation to a Special Committee established for the purpose of formulating plans and arrangements to enlarge the scope of the agreement. Among the subjects to be dealt with was the "resumption of the normal functioning of the cultural and humanitarian institutions on Mount Scopus and free access thereto." Nothing, however, had been accomplished in this regard. While the Armistice Agreement was subsequent to the Mt. Scopus Agreement, the latter was considered to continue in effect. The UN responsibility for Mt. Scopus was not placed under the Mixed Armistice Commission (MAC) but under a Special Representative of the Chief of Staff for Mt. Scopus.

The day of the barrel (4 June 1952) opened peacefully enough. [Grandma] and I had been invited by Commander Hutchison (USN), an UNTSO observer attached to the Israel-Jordan MAC, to accompany him on a visit to the Latrun Monastery. North of Jerusalem the ADL bent to the west and the Monastery lay on the Armistice Line several miles west of Jersualem. At this point the area between the lines was fairly wide and Palestinian farmers cut off from their lands by the ADL attempted to continue farming in the No Man's Land. Israel did not interfere with the planting, but would open fire during harvesting. Although harmless and unarmed, the farmers were "infiltrators" and consequently fair game for Israeli snipers. Usually after a few had been killed or wounded, the UN observers would succeed in arranging for the harvest to proceed on the condition that it would be shared with Israel.

On the day that we visited Latrun all was quiet along the ADL, and the only unusual sight was of goats which had climbed into an olive tree to forage on the leaves. [Grandma] recalls that when we reached the Monastery around noon, Arab children were lined up with their bowls waiting to be fed by the monks. [Grandma] also recalls that the monks were permitted to farm some of the area between the lines adjacent to the Monastery and thinks this may have been the source of the food provided to the neighboring Palestinians.

After being admitted to the Monastery and shown some of the building, we were served what [Grandma] recalls as a most delicious vegetarian meal and with respect to which I remember the wines and cheeses for which the monks were renowned.

On returning to Jerusalem toward the middle of the afternoon, I found a message waiting for me urgently summoning me to the Mandelbaum Gate. On arriving I found an agitated group of UN officials and Israeli and Jordanian officers clustered around and oil drum that was resting on end in the middle of the Mandelbaum Gate area between the armistice demarcation lines. The situation was quickly explained to me.

This was one of the two days in the month on which a convoy was to take supplies to Mt. Scopus. The convoy had arrived during the morning, come through the Israeli checkpoint and entered the area between the lines where it was to be inspected. The Jordanian Observers had appeared particularly alert and followed the inspection intently. I leanred afterwards that a few days earlier one of the Israeli custodians on Mt. Scopus had "gone over the hill" literally and figuratively and apparently had talked at considerable length to the Jordanians. In conducting the routine inspection a stick was run along a row of oil barrels on one of the trucks. One of the barrels when struck sounded different from the others and this was immediately noticed by the Jordanians. Commandant Delseries, a French Officer who was the UN Representative for Mt. Scopus responsible for the inspection removed the cap from the barrel and poked a dip stick into it. The stick struck a hard object and would only go in about six inches until turned to the side when it would reach to within a few inches of the bottom. Commandant Delseries then decided that it would be necessary to open the barrel to see what it contained.

At this point the Israeli official in charge said that if there was some problem with that barrel they would not insist on it going up to Mt. Scopus and would take it back to Israel. The Jordanians objected and asked that the inspection continue. They said they would not allow the convoy to proceed through their territory until it was determined what was in the barrel. The Israelis said the barrel was their property and the UN had no right to open it. Eventually it was agreed to remove the barrel from the barrel and leave it in the no man's land between the lines until they could get my legal opinion on whether the UN had a right to open the barrel. Meanwhile the rest of the convoy would be allowed to go up to Mt. Scopus.

Commandant Delseries had a copy of the Mt. Scopus Agreement. After rereading it, I gave the opinion that the United Nations Representative in charge had the right to determine how an inspection should be conducted. Under the agreement certain things could go up in the convoy and others could not. The UN had the responsibility to oversee compliance with the agreement and could only do so effectively if it was able to conduct a thorough inspection. It would be ridiculous to argue to a customs official who suspected a certain item of baggage that it might be withdrawn to prevent its inspection.

Having received this opinion, Commandant Delseries declared his opinion to proceed with the inspection by opening the barrel. Before he could begin, however, Colonel Ramati, the Senior Israel Officer present, ordered a squad of Israeli soldiers into the area between the lines. They tipped the barrel over and started to roll it toward the Israeli side. At the time I was standing immediately in front of the barrel and I had three alternatives: (1) I could rather ignominiously jump out of the way, (2) I could let them roll it over my feet or (3) I could do what I did -- put my foot up on the barrel and tell them to stop. I can still see the surprised look on the face of one of the Israeli soldiers as he looked up at me. There were three soldiers pushing on the barrel but it didn't move, not I believe so much from the weight of my foot as from the presence of a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) in the hands of an Arab Legionnaire on the Jordanian side of the line about ten feet behind them. You could hear rifles clicking on both sides. Commandant Delseries joined me with his foot on the barrel but was quickly called away by the Jordanian commander (it was either Major Itzaq or Lt. Daoud) who told him "get [Grandpa] out of the way -- if the barrel moves a centimeter" they would open fire. Meanwhile Lt. Col. McAninch replaced Commandant Delseries beside me with his foot also on the barrel.

(Col. McAninch later told his version of the events so often that Commander Hutchison in his book "Violent Truce, p. 24, reported it as follows: "Lt. Colonel McAninch USA, Military Assistant to the Chief of Staff UNTSO, planted his foot against the barrel. By doing this he more than likely saved a dozen lives that day. Even Col. Ramati who screamed out with indignation couldn't hide the fact that he was most relieved by this most timely act." Ramati might well be relived because if the Jordanians had opened fire most of the bullets would have been aimed at him, but a few strays could have hit other people. Among the civilians in the would-be line of fire were a group of "pilgrims" waiting to cross from Israel controlled to Jordanian controlled territory. I wrote a letter to Commander Hutchison reminding him of the actual sequence and that Col. McAninch was only the third person to put his foot on the barrel. When we visited Hutch in Cairo in 1960 he said he would correct the account in a new edition. He said he had heard Col. McAninch tell the story so often he had forgotten the facts. Commander Hutchison died of a heart attack while swimming in the Red Sea and so far as I know no second edition was published.)

Major General de Ridder (Belgium), the Chairman of the Israel-Jordan Mixed Armistice Commission, relieved the situation by suggesting that the barrel be placed in the MAC House (in fact it was put in his bathroom under lock) and the matter would be submitted to Lt. General William Riley, USMC, the Chief of Staff of UNTSO, who was then in New York, for determination whether to proceed with the inspection or return the barrel to Israel unopened.

A report was prepared and the question of the barrel was cabled to Gen. Riley in New York. Almost immediately a reply came back that since the barrel had never left Israeli territory they should be allowed to take it. If I had known what was to transpire I should have accepted Riley's decision and let the wrath of the Jordanians fall on us, but it seemed so palpably wrong that we -- Col. McAninch, Sturge Shields (CAO) and myself -- replied, pointing out (1) that his decision was based on misinformation since the barrel had left Israeli controlled territory and been taken into the no man's land between the armistice lines for inspection, (2) that his Representative on the spot had determined that the barrel should be inspected and to overrule him would impair his authority and (3) to give the barrel back without determining what was in it would seriously damage the UN's reputation as far as Jordan and the other Arab states were concerned.

General Riley replied that we should endeavor to persuade Jordan that the barrel should be returned to Israel but, if we were unable to do so and considered it necessary to save the situation, we could open the barrel. We arranged a meeting with the Minister of Defense of Jordan and proceeded to Amman to try to convince him that it would be best for all concerned to return the barrel to Israel. I can't recall what arguments we used except a personal appeal from General Riley and at this late date can not think of any that would have been persuasive. The most interesting thing that I do remember is that Lt. General Sir John Glubb (Glubb Pasha), British Commander of the Jordanian Arab Legion, was present at the meeting. He had little to say but made it clear he thought there was only one honorable course for the UN to follow. At the end of the meeting the minister said it was for the UN to decide and Jordan would base its attitude toward the UN and Mt. Scopus on the action which was taken. It was clear that they did not agree that the barrel be returned without a full inspection of its contents.

We then decided that "in order to save the situation" it was necessary to proceed with the inspection and gave notice to the parties of the time and place. The Jordanians sent observers. The Israelis sent an army which occupied the MAC house and were prepared forcibly to remove the barrel. General de Ridder, reacting quickly, called in the Consuls General in Jerusalem to witness what was going on and the Israelis stopped their efforts to break the lock and remove the barrel. They however added their own lock and posted guard outside the door of the room containing the barrel. Captain Scofield (US), a UN observer attached to the MAC, who incidentally did photographic articles for National Geographic, took pictures of the Israeli soldiers occupying the MAC house and may have said he was going to give them to the press. This particularly incensed the Israelis who asked for the recall of those involved in the picture taking. I said I needed the pictures to report the violation of the UN premises to Headquarters and that the officers involved were not to be held responsible.

We attempted urgently to arrange a meeting with the Israeli Foreign Ministry to protest the occupation of the MAC house in violation of its immunity but since the following day was the Jewish Sabbath (Shabat) the earliest we could meet was Sunday morning. Early Sunday we went down to the Foreign Ministry Offices on the outskirts of Tel Aviv. ..ting our protest we were accused of acting contrary to General Riley's instructions to return the barrel to Israel. They said they were acting to prevent our violation of instructions. They were clearly aware of Riley's first cable which confirmed my belief that it had been prepared in consultation with the Israeli delegation in New York and that the misinformation concerning the barrel never having left Israeli territory had come from that delegation. I rather undiplomatically explained that the original cable had been based on misinformation from the Israeli Delegation and that when the correct facts were presented, General Riley had changed his instructions and authorized us to proceed with the inspection. I was then charged with having said their delegation was lying. They refused to remove their soldiers from the MAC house but said they would maintain the status quo until General Riley returned to the area and dealt with the situation.

The day that General Riley returned to Jerusalem we went to the airfield near Ramallah to meet him with great expectations that he would deal firmly with the Israelis. We thought he would be angry that they had occupied the MAC. He was angry all right, but his ire was directed at me. It was aggravated by the fact that his UN airplane had been held up for two hours in Beirut because landing fees had not been paid.

(Constantine Stavropoulos, UN Legal Counsel & Under Secretary General for Legal Affairs 1952-1977, had made a trip to Beirut a few months earlier and among other things asserted the UN's immunity from such fees. Pending settlement of the dispute we had withheld payment. Riley said of course they should be paid and was livid over the delay.)

Instead of objecting to the Israeli occupation of the MAC house, he denied that it was UN Premises entitled to inviolability. He denied its UN status because, while entrance was from no man's land, the building itself was on the Israeli side of the ADL. This, of course, was irrelevant but its irrelevancy was not apparent to the General. As a result of the Israeli occupation and Riley's failure to follow through on our protest the Jordanians insisted on moving the MAC headquarters to a building located entirely within the area between the lines.

So far as The Barrel was concerned, Riley told me in no uncertain terms that I was to have nothing more to do with the matter. He would handle it himself. To do this he set up a meeting with Walter Eytan, Secretary General of the Israeli Foreign Ministry. I saw Eytan arriving at Government House one evening as I was departing. The next morning my "spies" showed me a note containing a time table for an inspection. I do not remember the exact time and details but the main points went something like this:

(1) 9:45 - Soldiers removed from MAC house

(2) 10:00 - General Riley arrives at MAC house to carry out inspection by dipping stick into barrel

(3) 10:10 - Lorry arrives, barrel is removed and returned to Israel

I remember particularly the word "lorry" because it seemed a term more likely to be used by the Israelis than the General.

I was dismayed at the projected plan and burst into the General's office in contravention to his instructions. I asked him what he planned to do and tried to tell him without revealing what I knew that he would be making a terrible mistake if he merely repeated the type of inspection that Commandant Delseries had already made at the outset of the incident. I told him he would never be able to speak to the Arabs again if he went through with a travesty of that kind. His reaction was to threaten to throw me out of the office.

I was not present at the "inspection" but understand it was an even worse blunder than I had feared. While the Israelis were fully aware of the scenario, the UN Military Observers who were arranging for the inspection had not been informed. According to Commander Hutchison they were prepared with crowbars, chisel, metal saw and sledge hammers. General Riley waved these aside and asked for a dip rod. When one had been located, he inserted the stick into the barrel and when it immediately touched an obstacle he turned it quickly to one side and, as it had for Commandant Delseries, it went down to almost six inches of the bottom but would not go further. The General then withdrew the rod dramatically and announced that since there seemed to be extraneous matter in the bottom of the barrel it could not go up to Mt. Scopus and the Israelis would be required to take it back. By that time the "lorry " had arrived and the Israelis removed the barrel in accordance with the prepared time table.

The repetition of an inspection already made was not only stupid but patently dishonest, since it had avoided revealing what was already known to the UN Observers and to the Jordanians -- that there was an object concealed in the center of the barrel. The turning of the dip stick to avoid striking that object could not have been missed by the Jordanian observers.

My predictions were more than realized. There was a fire storm in the Jordanian and Lebanese press -- I don't know about other Arab countries. The UN and General Riley were denounced for the "perfidious" handling of the barrel. Riley was ostracized officially and socially. He was not invited to the National Day party given by the Jordanian Minister of Defense in Jerusalem and was snubbed by the Syrians at a party given for him by Col. Taxis (USMC), Chairman of the Israeli-Syrian MAC in Damascus. Col. Jadid, Syrian Representative on the MAC who had on another occasion shown his falcon to [Grandma] and me, did come under orders to pay respect to Col. Taxis but lefy immediately while conspicuously ignoring the "guest of honor."

My own position was very uncomfortable since Riley would no longer listen to my advice ([Grandma] also suffered from being shunned by the Shields and others although Sturge Shields had been involved in all our decisions prior to Riley's return.) Riley asked me to request headquarters to take me back to New York for "personal reasons." When I declined he asked New York to recall me saying he no longer needed a legal or political adviser. Their reply was not only to leave me in place but to send out a senior political adviser. They also instructed Riley that I was to handle negotiations with Lebanon on the airport landing fees in accordance with UN worldwide policy, i.e. insisting on the UN's exemption. They also emphasized the inviolability of the MAC house. I do not know exactly what they said about The Barrel but it so incensed Riley that he offered to resign. This offer was put in the drawer for six months or so and then taken out and accepted.

(Riley's successor, General Bennike of Denmark endeavored to carry out a thorough inspection Mt. Scopus but his efforts were frustrated by the Israelis. After Israel occupied the area in 1967 they boasted of the various arms and other prohibited equipment they had successfully taken up to Mt. Scopus.)

Two other points: Riley insisted that the pictured taken of the Israeli soldiers occupying the MAC house be turned over to him to be destroyed or handed to the Israelis. I gave him the negatives and all the copies in my possession ([Grandma] however had a set). Riley also demanded that I apologize for my remark about misinformation from the Israeli Delegation. Eventually I signed a letter expressing my regret for a misunderstanding and saying I intended no aspersions on the Delegation for whom I had the highest respect. I left off the statement that I understood that they could only pass on the information that they received.

Some months later when the head of the Legal Office, Abraham Feller, jumped out of a forty story window, Stavropoulos, who succeeded him, asked for me to return to Headquarters.

The Barrel Incident had a number of lasting effects on my career. It established my reputation among the higher and influential echelons of the Secretariat including Under Secretaries-General Bunch, Cordier and Protitch as well as Malania et al. As a result I received a number of assignments as a "trouble shooter" including being put in charge of the investigation of Secretary General Hammerskjöld's fatal crash. The story was not to be forgotten.

On the other hand Israel used it as an excuse when they preferred not to deal with me on a particular subject. While they were displeased with some of my actions, they did not at the time suggest that I was "persona non grata." I continued to work on both sides of the line and in fact returned to the Middle East as Legal Adviser to UNEF in 1957 and dealt with both the Israelis and the Egyptians attending at least one meeting in Tel Aviv. Later, however, they raised the point of "persona non grata" on several occasions. Two of these may be noted.

In 1967 at the time of the so called "Six Day War" both Jordan and Israel violated the grounds of Government House. The Jordanians knocked on the door and told the Chief of Staff they had orders to occupy the building. The Chief of Staff told them to get lost and they left. The Israelis did not bother to knock -- they blasted the door open with a bazooka and forced the evacuation of the building at gun point over the vigorous protest of the Chief of Staff. Long negotiations followed in an endeavor to restore Government House and Grounds to the United Nations Truce Supervision Organization. At one point Dr. Bunche had negotiated a draft agreement under which UNTSO would be allowed to return to the building but ownership would be registered in the name of the Israeli Government. I was acting head of the Legal Office at the time and objected to an agreement which would recognize Israeli ownership. Dr. Bunche who was more interested in the practical side -- getting back into the building which was needed for operations -- than in the principle was annoyed and said if I didn't like his proposal I could take over negotiations. I had two meetings with Shabtai Rosenne, then legal adviser to the Israeli Mission to the UN. I had met Rosenne and been on friendly terms with him since 1952 when we met in Jerusalem while he was Legal Adviser to the Foreign Ministry. I do not remember how our negotiations proceeded. I think I probably suggested returning the building immediately as UNTSO badly needed a base of operations and that the legal issues be arbitrated or submitted to the International Court of Justice in accordance with the Convention on Privileges and Immunities of the United Nations. After not hearing from Ambassador Rosenne for a few days, I telephoned him to set up another meeting. He seemed embarrassed and suggested I should talk with the Secretary General, U Thant.

When I saw the Secretary General he said that Israel had raised the persona non grata question and refused to negotiate with me further. It was obvious they did not wish to discuss arbitration or judicial settlement.

(On another occasion when the Legal Office had suggested arbitration, they had said they considered that an unfriendly act. They had also declined an Egyptian proposal to submit the Gulf of Aqaba question to the International Court of Justice.)

The second incident took place after I had left the UN. In 1983 I was retained as a consultant by the UN Legal Office to write a report requested by the General Assembly on "Permanent Sovereignty over Natural Resources in the Occupied Arab Territories." The study which I prepared was submitted to the General Assembly under my name and was commended by the Assembly in Resolution 38/144 of 19 December 1983. The Assembly asked for a follow up report and the Legal Office again asked me to prepare it. I had begun work with a research assistant but had not yet signed the contract when I was asked by the Office to withdraw. Shabtai Rosenne, again appearing embarrassed, had come in to see the Legal Counsel (Carl-August Fleischauer, later a judge on the International Court of Justice) and had said since I was persona non grata to the Israeli Government they objected to my writing the report. Fleischauer told him the Legal Office was satisfied with my work and intended to proceed. Then Ambassador Blum, the Permanent Representative of Israel to the UN, came to see the Secretary General and told him that if I was allowed to write the report Fleischauer would be attacked in the press as anti-Semitic and a Nazi. As Fleischauer is German he was particularly vulnerable to even fantastic charges such as these. Consequently they requested me to withdraw. I agreed but asked that my research assistant be paid for the time he had already put in on the project. This was accepted and I have a Xerox copy of the check.

(Recalling this incident at the time of Bobby Inman's withdrawal as nominee for Secretary of Defense, I wonder what may have been suggested by those who did not consider him sufficiently pro-Israel for the post.)

The Israelis were not always so successful in their objections. In 1983 following my submission of the Study on Natural Resources in the Occupied Territories, the UN Special Political Affairs office approached me concerning a mission to the Middle East on the Israeli plan to dig a canal from the Mediterranean to the Dead Sea. Jordan had objected since it would flood Jordanian agricultural land and their Potash plant, their major industry. The Natural Resources branch of the Technical Assistance Office was in touch with Israel concerning the Mission and proposed a distinguished water law professor from one of our Western State Universities. However before a decision was made Israel had stated that it would not receive the Mission. The Secretary General, acting through the Political Affairs office, decided that since Israel was not going to receive the Mission regardless of its composition, I should be appointed. My UN and international law experience, they concluded, rendered me best qualified for the task. I was able to pick up a knowledge of international water law very quickly by studying the International Law Commission (ILC) Rapporteur's reports on the subject. After returning from Jordan I made the careless remark that I had become an instant expert on International Water Law which led to my teaching American Water Law at the Pace Law School even though there was little connection between international water law and the course to be taught.

... was his name-o

Sun, 28 Dec 2008 05:18:19 GMT

Hey! Look at my ass!

Sun, 28 Dec 2008 01:48:57 GMT

I'm not even going to pretend to understand this one. I've seen the shorts and pants with slogans on them, and I get that they're supposed to be cute and even sometimes vaguely suggestive. But what parent in his/her right mind allows a teenage girl to walk around Costco wearing a tight pair of jeans that has the words "Apple Bottom" embroidered across the back pockets?

FUCK!

Christmas with a bang

Fri, 26 Dec 2008 17:08:09 GMT

We had twelve people (including ourselves) at the house for Christmas dinner. Usually in our family, holiday meals are potluck affairs, with two or three dishes being prepared by the host and the rest brought by guests. But I cooked more food yesterday than ever before in a single day -- with the possible exception of my brief stint as a short-order cook at the base NCO club. We also used more dishes, pots, pans and other cooking implements than ever before. I can't even begin to describe the exhaustion I felt at the end of the day.

In attendance:

The Man
The Wife
The Elder Son
The Younger Son
The Sister
The Mother
The Stepfather
The Stepmother
The Maternal Grandmother
The Uncle
The Cousin
The Stepcousin

With recipes and inspiration from:

Top Chef
Sunset Magazine
SFGate.com
Chez Panisse
Fix It & Forget It Lightly
AllenCanning.com

What I cooked:

Turkey, brined and roasted
Mashed potatoes with pureed cauliflower, shallots and garlic
Butternut squash and apples with raisins and syrup
Candied sweet potatoes with pecans
Sourdough stuffing
Jubilee rice
Pumpkin streusel pie

What they brought:

Brussels sprouts with bacon and walnuts
Green salad with peppers, tomatoes and cucumber
Apricot pie
Apple pie

Special thanks to:

The Wife for keeping me sane, wrangling the Boys and cooking the gravy
The Mother and Stepfather for paying for the ingredients
The Stepmother for loaning crockpots, chairs and silverware
The Sister for coming over early and providing a hand wherever needed
EVERYONE ELSE - all my friends and family, in person or online, who have lent me support and encouragement throughout this difficult year.

Addictive behavior of the canine variety

Wed, 17 Dec 2008 17:32:34 GMT

The Sister took a 10-day trip to New York earlier this month, and left her dog, Sisko, with us. The first morning I drove the Wife to the bus stop and returned to find that he had eaten all the poop off of the Younger Son's diapers from the bathroom pail. Not surprising, considering he regularly did the same with the Elder Son's diapers way back when we lived with the Sister.

I cursed, cleaned things up, and got the Elder Son ready for school. Returning from dropping him off, I once again found the diapers all over the floor. Grumbling about how stupid I was, I cleaned things up again, and resolved to keep both bathroom doors closed for the remainder of Sisko's stay.

I came home from grocery shopping later to find the kitchen trash all over the floor.

On the ninth day of his visit with us, the day before the Sister's return, I fixed banana-pumpkin bread with peanut butter for the Sons' breakfast. The Wife was already on her way to work. Neither of the Sons finished their meals, and then we all left to drop off the Elder Son at school. The Younger Son and I ended up staying out for a while, on what I call a "driving adventure" -- we pick a direction and drive that way until we find something interesting.

When we got back home, I let the Younger Son push the front door open. Sisko immediately bolted out of the house past him (unusual behavior), but I managed to grab his collar and yank him inside, whereupon he skulked over to his blanket, tail between his legs, to await what he knew was about to come. "SIS-KO!"

Indulge, if you will, my attempt to imagine what went through the lovable mutt's mind after we had left the house that morning:

Dang, they left without me again. Hmph.

Hey, what's that smell? Is it ... ? No, it couldn't be ...

It is! They left peanut butter out on the table! I guess they won't mind of I clean this up for them.

{munch munch munch}

Oh, no, what have I done? I'm not supposed to eat off the table! I'm going to get in troub-- wait ... did they really ...?

They did! They left the bathroom doors open! Oh, hooray, a lovely poop smorgasbord just for me! Mmm, yes, there are some ripe ones in here!

{lick lick lick}

Oh, god, what's wrong with me? I can't believe I just did that! The diapers are everywhere-- I shouldn't have done-- But they were so delicious!

What am I gonna do? WhatamIgonnado whatamIgonnado whatamIgonnado!?

I know! I'll go eat the kitchen trash!

{dig dig dig, munch munch munch}

AAAAGGHHH! WHAT AM I DOING!? WHATAMIDOING WHATAMIDOING!? WHAT ELSE CAN I EAT!? Okay, no, that's wrong.

{pace pace pace}

Get ahold of yourself, man! Think ... think.

{pace pace pace}

Okay, maybe they won't notice. No, stupid! I know ... I'll run away! Yeah, that's it! I'll join the circus! I'll become a firehouse dog! I'll join the merchant marines! And I won't ever be bad again!

I'll just wait by the door until they come home ...

So anyway ... yeah.

A very long night of vivid dreams

Wed, 17 Dec 2008 14:52:04 GMT

The highlights:

... I drove from Monterrey, Mexico to Vallejo, California while totally unconscious ...

... I participated as a colonial American in a historical reenactment game on the grounds of the old Northern California Rennaisance Faire, which had not yet been completely built over with condos and a golf course ...

... The Wife left the Younger Son in our car for a day and half, where he read books and drank water without complaint; I yelled at her about it as she drove us down a mountain road ...

... I befriended an Indian family who owned and operated connected food businesses; one was a cafeteria-style Indian buffet, the other sold ice cream and waffles with powdered sugar ...

... because quarters were now shaped like rounded triangles, they were impossible to fit into parking meters; I collected several that were stuck as I walked down the street ...

... Dr. Who (10) and I helped a young man with a "blond detector" find his older brother, who had accidentally stumbled upon a locked room containing a doorway to another dimension in his family's mansion ...

... I introduced the older brother to the teenage daughter of the Indian family, and they married ...

Weird night.