Today marks one year as editor of Fresh Water for me. Man-o-man, what a ride it has been. Despite the intensity of the job, once in a while, I still get to pen a story. To mark the occasion, here is a roundup of some of my favorites.
—Five old school places that still rock the Rust Belt
—CLE's best oddities
—Are we not men?
—How Cleveland survived the RNC
—100 miles of the Towpath, one step at a time
I've missed this blog and all of you who used to frequent it. As always, you can find me amid the castle of Evil Overlord Facebook or follow me on Twitter.
Still yours in letters,
Your humble hostess has been doing a whole lot of what is depicted in today's photo: walking around with a cup of coffee, trying not to be late and be engaged and animated when I get to where I'm going. All of it has been ahead on an announcement that is long in coming: I am now the managing editor of Fresh Water Cleveland.
If I could summarize the last couple of weeks, it was as if a distant sound grew louder and louder. As the source neared, it revealed itself to be a great clamoring throng with limbs thrashing and voices roaring. Then it scooped me up and put me atop its bucking self, where I have been barely hanging on ever since.
So it remains until I gain better control of it all.
As you may have heard, we here in Cleveland are expecting a large number of elephants later this year and it is a thrilling time indeed to be in the writing scene in this town. Obviously, I will likely be even more scarce amid these pages than I have been in the past year. You'll find I'm most active over here and to a lesser extent over here.
Lastly, to those of you who have followed me over the years, I offer my profound thanks. You were all part of making me what I am today.
Yours in letters and all sweet magical things,
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On January 21 in the year of our Lord 2012, after having concluded that our mattress had reached the lowest dip in the biorythm of its life, the Goat and I concluded a harrowing shopping excursion with the purchase of the unit pictured above (more here).
This was the first new mattress purchase I ever made. Hence, when the set I wanted clocked in at nearly $1,800, I did not care.
"I do not care," I told the Goat as we lay upon the Trumpster's mattress in our winter coats staring at the ceiling in the predictable showroom.
That the mattress we liked best was under the Trump brand was more or less a joke. Who cared? We liked the unit, which was, after all, a Serta - one of those brands we more or less trust.
Here in the year of our Lord 2016, however, a few things have changed. We are no longer in the market for a new bed, but if we were, I daresay the Trump name would deter the purchase. Four years ago, the Donald was a loud-mouthed boor. Today, he's an egomaniac dangerously stoking the flames of fear and bigotry in order to prolong his perverse intoxication. I offered this observation to the Goat during our constitutional yesterday morning.
"No way I would shell out $1,800 for anything with a Trump label on it now," I said.
"So what?" countered the Goat. "His supporters will."
I begged to differ, saying that the average Trump supporter does not look one hell of a lot like the people who have historically supported the luxe Trump brand. Try a swank $420 per night hotel room or a $600,000 NYC one-bedroom condo.
Who knows? Maybe the rich people won't care if their $380 Aquanox Signature Spa Experience is associated with the Trumpster. That said, there's always someone happy to take your $380 who does not publicly call women fat and ugly and does not believe you should be barred from entering the country based on your religion.
But if that same rich person opts to purchase a mattress much like my own, she or he will discover that Serta has since stopped selling mattresses under the Trump name on account of his "disparaging comments about Mexican immigrants."
That's just one. Earlier this month, Politico offered up a telling article on how the Trumpster's luxury brand is nosediving amid the Donald's atrocious rhetoric.
"I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn't lose voters."
While I suppose that may indeed depend on the demographics of the victim, Mr. Trump, it may nonetheless be true. The question is, in the event you wake on January 20, 2017 and find you are not preparing for the inaugural pomp and circumstance, who will be bellying up to support the Trump brand? Your post-political life may no longer include the well-heeled. You'll be left with the angry white middle class to whom you've pandered, which may or may not be able to afford your diamond-encrusted lifestyle.
As my dearly beloved pointed out to me, Trump has reinvented himself time and time again. Perhaps he will do so in the aftermath of his political career as the Politico article points out:
"Then again, (Trump) could move into the part of the consumer market where no real damage has been done. Perhaps a Trump brand of smokes, or maybe canned meat?"
So who's up for a Trumped Potted Meat sammie and a nice cold can of The Donald's Pink Catawba?
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