The Luna Park Gazette

Who was that masked man? I wanted to smack him upside the head. I had just about forgotten this swine flu business this morning when a guy walked by me on Broadway wearing a mask. This clown was done up like Jesse James, so either he was planning to knock over a bank or he's actually a bigger hypochondriac than I am. This was right outside my office and if it had been a few seconds either way, I wouldn’t have seen guy and would have probably been a little less stressed. But I did and now I’m not. I was tempted to yank the mask clean off his face and yell at him for overreacting, but I didn’t want to catch any of his germs. So off he went, leaving behind paranoia like the Long Ranger dropping off silver bullets. I’ve had a lot of trouble with my health over the years so talk of germs, bugs, infections, outbursts, pandemics, plagues and imminent death tend to make me a little nervous. When I started reading the news about the swine flu, I, of course, hit the panic button with both ha...

This is a week for dark memories. Sunday was the 14th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing and 16th anniversary of the Waco raid, (thanks, Jen) and it was 10 years ago today that the Columbine massacre had us shaking our heads and wondering what the world was coming to. I was a reporter in Pennsylvania when the Waco seige was going on and after the final assault, a TV station in Allentown interviewed some genius who listed all the ways the FBI had done it wrong. It was a waste of videotape, frankly, and it taught me to be careful about the people to whom you give time and newsprint. I did some kind of local angle story myself, but a state trooper I often worked with assured me that no cop would second guess the assault on the record. I was working at the Waterbury Republican-American when we got news of Oklahoma City. The city editor saw it on the AP wire and told everyone in the news room. And I was working at CNN when the Columbine shootings happened. On all three occassions ther...

Say, is it my imagination or are there a lot of Bernie Madoff lookalikes walking around town? It seems like every time I turn around I see a guy who is the spitting image of the man everyone wants to spit on. A guy walked by me on Broadway the other day who looked so much like the Ponzi scumwad that I was afraid people were going to run up and punch him. Granted I work on Wall Street, the barely-beating heart of the financial district, and I live on earth--most of the time--so I probably have Bernie on the brain. And, yes, it doesn't take much to do the Bernie: white hair, colorless skin, beady eyes, and evil to the bone. A lot of people do fit that basic profile, but even so, the numbers seem staggering. This is like cloning, which is far too scary to even think about. Maybe Bernie's has a bunch of doubles running around so he can get out of jail free. Hitler had a double named Gustav Weler, which turned out to be a tough gig, seeing as he was shot in the head by Soviet troops...

"The resurrection gives my life meaning and direction and the opportunity to start over no matter what my circumstances." ~Robert Flatt I can’t believe I’m hearing the words “wind chill factor” on Easter Sunday, but I’m willing to overlook that and think good thoughts on this day on rebirth and renewal. I’m feeling kind of rundown after running around in the rain yesterday to do my Saturday chores. I hope I’m not coming down with anything; but if so, well, this, too will pass. I just watched televangelist Joel Osteen (yes, I did, actually), who spoke about being planted versus being buried. You bury a corpse, he said, but you plant a seed and stand back to watch it grow. I like that, especially given my often (constant?) negative attitudes. I went to my usual weekly service this week at Trinity Church, or as I like to call it, “Sanity Church,” since the people there help keep me from flipping my lid. I wasn’t going to go on this particular day because I was running late for ...

I’ve had a series of dreams recently that were so bizarre they could make you long for insomnia. In the last two weeks, I dreamed I was a gun-toting killer, the victim of a nasty poltergeist, and an extremely reluctant member of a police SWAT team. I like to describe dreams as the funhouse mirror reflection of your mind and these latest gems could easily serve as Exhibits A, B, and C of that theory. The SWAT dream was the most recent, occurring two nights ago. It starts off with me as a cop approaching a traffic jam and telling my fellow officers that I’ll take care of the situation. Only I don’t do such a good job and a female officer asks me sarcastically, “ that was your plan?” I’m not sure what that was, but it clearly doesn’t impress anybody. And it did nothing to clear the traffic. I am about to respond when an armored vehicle roars up and a senior officer shouts, “get in the truck!” I protest, but he was very insistent, so I climb aboard and off we went. I remember thinking th...