I got my paczki yesterday, in a distinctly un-Polish bakery down the main drag from my house. They’re as French as ooh-la-la, but if everybody’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day, everybody’s Polish on Paczki Day, at least in Detroit. So I had one raspberry-filled paczek for lunch, and spent a couple of hours riding the sugar high at a reporting assignment, which ended in guffaws with a couple of real-estate agents. You think cops see a lot? Real-estate agents see everything, and what they don’t see, they hear.
“Someone called our office looking for 30 acres up north to grow medical marijuana,” one said.
“I saw an MLS photo once where someone left their artificial penis on the bathroom counter,” replied the other. I wonder if she said “artificial penis” because it sounds better than “dildo,” the way “handyman special” is an improvement on “a real dump.” She reads this blog, so hey, welcome! You know what she said about it? “You have such smart readers.” You bet I do.
I wondered if I could find the MLS photo of the artificial penis. I figure it has to be on a blog somewhere, so I Googled around a bit. Didn’t find it, but I did find this, via this page, which is another one of those places you should avoid if you don’t have about five hours to kill.
And now it’s Wednesday, when the week shifts into another gear. Office hours this week, so I have to get moving in about six minutes. Fortunately, we are bloggage-heavy today:
Ke$ha, the pop star who makes Madonna look like Maria Callas, has an unusual deal with LifeStyles condoms. Well, I wouldn’t touch her without a pair of gloves on.
This story broke yesterday morning and was updated through the day — a woman rushing to the hospital ended up giving birth in a car, pulled over on the shoulder of I-94. When it first appeared, that was about all the detail available, and the racist, vile comments started to pile up so fast the staff couldn’t delete them fast enough — another welfare recipient comes into the world in a rusty Pontiac with the muffler wired on, etc. At one point the story said 50 comments had been made, but you could only read about 10; the new Gannett website is whack and I’m not sure how it works, but I think the other 40 had been deleted, and the counter hadn’t caught up.
Then about noon a fuller story was posted. The woman is married. To a doctor, who wasn’t with her because he’s doing his residency in New Jersey. And she’s Muslim. She had the guts to allow photography, although of course she was fully covered in the usual fashion. Cute baby, proud mother, married parents, what’s the problem? The comments took a turn from welfare and wired-on mufflers to terrorism and cracks about honor killings (“I sure hope the EMS “guys” were all female. Otherwise, this woman is in big trouble.”). If I worked for a newspaper nowadays, I’d find it hard to concentrate on anything other than hating my readers.
But not everyone in the world is awful, and that’s why we close with this wonderful short essay about who helps you when you need it. May I just say, nothing in this story surprised me one bit. “Today you, tomorrow me.” It washes a lot of rancid comments away.
Remember, one day we’ll all be dust. The important part is what we did beforehand.