Was the Peppa Pig themed birthday party worth it, Ms. Mayor?

I'm like a broken record here, but stories about people with their hand in the workplace till NEVER fail to amaze me. Do these folks think they'll pay back what they've embezzled before it gets found out? Do they think that they're going to get away with it, outsmarting the system? (Maybe a lot of them do and that the ones who get caught are in the minority.)

I suppose that many/most embezzlers start small, and once they get away with the initial theft, they just keep upping the ante. 

It just completely shocks me that there are so many people that are willing to grab at easy money only to end up doing time.

Politician thieves are another category altogether, as a lot of times they get caught using government and/or campaign funds to settle illegitimate expenses. After all, politicians being politicians, I'm sure that they can convince themselves that the fancy night out, the spa day, the pricey car, are necessary for them to stay in office. They let themselves stretch the bonds of what faithfully executing their oath of office entails. 

The latest saga to amaze me is that of New Britain, Connecticut's former mayor (in office from 2013 to 2025) Erin Stewart.

Stewart was on the course to get the Republican nomination for governor when details about fraudulent spending came out and she ended her campaign. If she'd gotten her party's nod, it's unlikely that she would have won the gubernatorial race come November. Connecticut is pretty reliably Democratic, and Ned Lamont, the incumbent, is quite popular. (Lamont does have a Democratic challenger, but is likely to be nominated this summer.)

Still, Stewart is young - she's only 39 - and running for statewide office is a credential-builder even if you don't manage to win. Things change over time. Who knows? She might have had a political future. Even reliably blue states have a habit of electing Republicans to state office as long as they temper their fiscal conservatism with social moderation. (C.f., Massachusetts governors Weld and Romney, among others.)

I doubt Stewart has much of a political future now. 

Not after it appears that she spent a lot of dimes on New Britain's account during her mayoral tenure. 

A law firm hired by the city found that Ms. Stewart had racked up $123,018 in expenses from June 2016 to November 2025 that had no supporting documentation to justify them.

The items included clothing, gifts for her husband, diapers, groceries and a membership in a members-only social club in Hartford. The goods were delivered to her home, ordered from Amazon, Instacart, Costco and other retailers, according to investigators, who combed through Ms. Stewart’s social media photos for images of items that she had purchased.

“The findings of this investigation point not to isolated lapses in judgment, but to a pattern of behavior that violated public trust and the standards expected of an elected official entrusted with taxpayer funds for nearly a decade,” said the report, prepared by the Crumbie Law Group in Hartford. (Source: NY Times)

Among the myriad personal expenses Stewart made were party supplies for her daughter's second birthday party, which was "tropical Peppa Pig-themed." State investigators matched these are other dubious expenses to party posts to Stewart's Facebook accounts. Some of her wanton spending had no supporting justification/receipts; some was noted as "office supplies."

An awful lot can fall under the category "office supplies" that would never be found out. But Peppa Pig decorations? Come on, ex-Mayor Stewart. Peppa Pig's cute and all, but please get a little real. 

Stewart also used her government card to buy clothing and jewelry for herself and her family, and baby supplies for her second child. 

All told, the law firm investigation Stewart's spending found over $100K worth of spending with no supporting documentation (and which was pretty much unsupportable, with or without documentation). 

That may not sound like much when, say, compared to the enormity of the multi-billion grift underway by the Trump family, but it's still pretty significant, especially in a blue-collar town like New Britain. And Stewart, although she has said she "will take I will take accountability for any mistakes," and that she "intend(s) to make full and complete restitution to the City of New Britain — my home — for anything that" she ends up owing, she could be in for some non-trivial hurt.

The Connecticut State Police confirmed on Thursday that they had opened an investigation into the matter after the state’s Division of Criminal Justice received a complaint.

I can't imagine that she'll do any time, but she's no doubt out of politics for good. She'll have to come up with the $100K plus payback. And she has to live with the colossal embarrassment.

Sheesh, do people just not think that misdeeds like this may one day catch up with them? Was that Peppa Pig themed birthday party worth it, Ms. Mayor?

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Additional information source: CT Insider

Image Source: Craiyon

Talk about a man-bites-dog story

Every once in a while. Correction. This is loaded-gun-loaded, blood-soaked America we're talking here. With fair regularity, we see a report of a horrific shooting incident in which someone is unintentionally shot and, as often as not, killed.

The two-year-old finds a Glock in their mother's purse and kills her while they're in the cereal aisle at the grocery shopping. The four-year-old takes a loaded Luger out of the bedside table in their parents bedroom and blows their six-year-old sibling's head off. 

Then there are, of course, all the accidental discharges. The gun just "goes off" while someone's cleaning it, and there's one dead spouse on the floor. A gun enthusiast is demonstrating how safe guns are to a gun-shy friend when, BOOM. Too bad they didn't know it was loaded.

Stories like these are so common that they barely make the news. 

Accidental - let alone deliberate - shootings are pretty much yawners these days. If a mass murder only includes four deaths (the FBI definition), it's not that interesting. It's got to be at least a dozen or so to capture our attention.

What we really need are some man-bites-dog stories.

Like this one:

A bizarre incident out of Nebraska is drawing attention after police say a dog accidentally discharged a shotgun inside a truck parked at a convenience store, injuring a woman stopped nearby in traffic.

...At the time of the blast, a woman was reportedly sitting at a nearby traffic light with her arm resting out the window when one pellet struck her in the upper right arm. Authorities said the injury was not believed to be life-threatening, and she was transported to Regional West Medical Center by a family member. (Source: Guessing Headlights)

Talk about an innocent bystander. (Talk about a lawsuit. Does Morgan and Morgan handle dog-shooting suits?)

Fortunately, nobody was killed. And while that almost goes without saying in a situation involving an accidental shotgun blast in public, this really could have ended far worse for everyone involved. 

That's for sure.

But given the weird nature of it, this story got surprisingly little play. Maybe if the woman had died. Maybe if the shot had killed a bus driver who'd driven off the road and all their passengers were killed. Especialy if it were a school bus with kiddos on board. Maybe then the dog-shoots-woman story would have been more widely reported.

But this was just another ho-hummer out of Gunville.

Hope the woman's okay. And hope the dog's okay, too. 

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Image Source: Justin McBrayer

Should've stuck to bubble gum...

When the story was first reported, it looked as if Ipswich school administrators were way over-reacting by suspending from play six members of the lacrosse team for posting pics of themselves, on graduation day, in their gowns and with big (unlit) stogies in their mouths.

The Ipswich Six weren't being allowed to play in the state boys lacrosse semi-finals in their division because they were in violation of state sports regulations that prohibit high school athletes from using alcohol, drugs, or tobacco. In order to participate in sports, the young athletes have to sign this agreement.

But if the cigars were unlit, as douche-y and bro as the pictures of these young men depict them to be, what's the BFD? They may have been cocking a snook at school administration, but what else is new.

And supposedly, the a stogie-pic on graduation day is some grand high school tradition in some quarters. So what if this tradition is obnoxious and noxious? If the 'gars weren't lit, no harm, no foul, right? (If the 'gars weren't lit, you must acquit.)

Well, the admin was quick to point out, there was another picture showing the boys puffing away, wreathed in cigar smoke. Thus, a violation.

Meanwhile, when the notice went out that the six students would not be allowed to play, three other team members said that, out of loyalty to their supposedly wrongly accused teammates, they wouldn't play. The team at that point didn't have enough players to arm with cudgels, so the remaining members voted to forfeit the game to Cohasset. (Coincidentally, Cohasset and Ipswich are both picturesque, affluent, ocean-front communities: Cohasset on Boston's South Shore, Ipswich on the North.)

Some parents went haywire.

So what if their boys posted a picture of themselves with cigars in their mouths? So what, even, if they were found to have smoked them. The cigars, one father claimed, were fake. He, in fact, had taken the real cigars, removed the tobacco, and had stuffed them with a combo of chamomile and English breakfast tea leaves. So there!

Forget for a moment that even an emptied out cigar is still tobacco, as the wrapper is a tobacco leaf. (This is unlike a cigarette, which is tobacco rolled in paper.) So if the cigars were mostly fake, that shows that the kids just wanted to appear to be smoking and weren't deliberately flouting the just-say-no regulation.

The fake cigar-making dad went so far as to submit a store receipt showing that he'd purchased the tea at Shaw's Market. Sure, the time and date stamp were smudged, but proof is proof, no?

Well, not if it's fake proof, as the Ipswich crack administators found out when they went into full Law & Order, CSI, Columbo mode and brought the receipt to Shaw's to check out whether it was legit. Well, Shaw's had a duplicate, and the receipt was legit. But when the time and date weren't smudged out, the time and date showed that the purchase had been made a few minutes after the email went out informing the lacrosse players that there had likely been a rules violation. 

As the Boston Globe put it, "the fake cigar defense appears to be going up in smoke."

The whole sitch turned into a kertuffle, with parents screaming at admins and lawyering up, the father who fakely claimed to have made the fake cigars sticking to his story - “It’s a fake cigar, it’s been proven,” - and the cops being called in. 

“We fully understand the disappointment, frustration, and emotions that have accompanied this outcome,” administrators said. “As educators and school leaders, we are always disappointed when we must make difficult decisions such as this." (Source: Boston Globe)

Yes, it is disappointing to many that the team wasn't allowed to play in the state playoffs. (For the record, Cohasset, the team Ipswich forfeited to in the semi-finals, went on to beat Nantucket for and win the state's Division 4 boys lacrosse championship.)

And the underclassmen on the team, the kids who didn't smoke the cigars, have every right to be disappointed. What the kids who smoked the cigars - violating an agreement that they had signed, and then letting a parent lie about the cigars being fake - shouldn't be disappointed. They should be embarrased. And, if not ashamed of themselves for letting the lie proceed - and, yes, it is hard to stand up to your or someone else's father, even if they're in the wrong - they should be ashamed that they're part of this entirely shameful situation.

If they wanted to have the "traditional" cigar smoking pic, they could have waited until after their playoff game(s). Or they could have poked a bit of fun at the traditional and gone with bubble gum cigars.

Ipswich admin released this statement:

... “One of the most important lessons we teach young people is that choices have consequences, even when those consequences are difficult or painful,” [Principal Jonathan] Mitchell and [School Superintendent Brian] Blake said in their statement. “While this outcome was heartbreaking for the student-athletes, their families, their coaches, and our school community, we remain committed to applying our policies consistently and acting in what we believe to be the best interests of the integrity of our educational and athletic programs.”

Good for standing up for integrity in their "educational and athletic programs." But heartbreak, shmeartbreak. This is high school. I'm guessing that most kids from Ipswich (and all pf the lacrosse players) go on to college. My wish for all of them is that high school, as much as they may have enjoyed it, is not the be all and end all of their existence.  Glory Days, indeed.

As for those conniving, lying, idiotic parents who came up with the fake cigar scheme. Grow the f up!

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Image Source: Etsy

It's not that they're tone deaf. It's that they really don't care

Google. Salesforce. Oracle. Microsoft.

They've all been pinkslipping thousands of workers to help fund the buildout of the AI infrastructure they need to implement in order to get rid of everyone else in their workforce.

Unlike its confreres, Apple supposedly hasn't done any major AI-related layoffs. But I learned that from an AI search overview, which I thought I had disabled. (AI has a pernicious way of sneaking back in. I guess when you  ask Ask Gemini how to turn Ask Gemini off, it just has its inhuman little old self good little laugh.)

By comparison with what some of the other big techs have been doing in terms of the numbers of heads being chopped off, Meta's May announced number of 8,000 seems rather paltry. Unless of course, you're among the riffed.

And unless you were among the 1,400 Seattle-area Meta workers riffed, you may not have been aware that on the very same day in May that the latest round of layoffs was announced - impacting 20% of Seattle's Meta workforce - Mark Zuckerberg's $300M, 387 foot long (or is it $387M, 300 foot long?) superyacht, Launchpad, docked in Seattle's Lake Union. (Lake Union is a "renowned hub for high-end vessel servicing.")

Zuck was elsewhere at the time, but just the thought of Launchpad's presence - apparently right outside the office windows of a number of those who'll be losing their paychecks, perks, and badges come July...What could be more symbolic of the company's attitude towards its workers? Let 'em swab decks on my superyacht instead of Let 'em eat cake.

According to an internal memo obtained by Bloomberg from Meta Chief People Officer Janelle Gale, the aggressive restructuring is part of an ongoing effort to maximize company efficiency and balance the massive costs of new technological investments.

"This is not an easy tradeoff and it will mean letting go of people who have made meaningful contributions to Meta during their time here," Gale wrote. (Source:Fox13 Seattle)

First off, if there were ever a job title that needs to be retired it's Chief People Officer. CPO implies - or a naive worker might infer - that the company actually gives a) a damn; b) a rat's arse; c) a flying fuck; d) all of the above, about the actual humans who work there. Maybe we can ask ChatGPT to come up with a new title. Corporate Personnel Henchman? C-Suite Stooge?

OK, Janelle Gale is probably a perfectly nice person if you meet her IRL. I'm sure she volunteers. I'm sure she sits on boards. She's a PhD psychologist. I'm sure she's empathetic AF.

But at the end of the day, she's working for the man.

And the man, in this case Mark Zuckerberg, is one of the cadre - I almost wrote caldron, which also works - of super-brainiac tech bros enamored of emergent technology (whatever the cost in dollars or human terms), enamored with their own exceptional intelligence, and enamored of the idea of becoming trillionaires. Because billionaire is so, so, so, so very yesterday, and these bros, if nothing else, are forward thinking. For themselves, anyway.

Forget about Emotional Intelligence, which for a while there was a trait that was somewhat valued in the workplace. Exceptional Intelligence - you heard it here - is the new EQ. And that EQ is focused on perfecting the algo, and on grabbing as much power, glory, and money as you can.

And these EQ-ers do not appear in the least troubled by any of what they're doing, any of the human, humane, or environmental implications of AI-ing the world.

If Exceptional Intelligence is the new EQ, then amorality is the new humanity. Caring? Concern? Democracy? Fairness? Sissy-stuff! Real men swan around in superyachts. Real men lay off tens of thousands of workers because they've got to keep their eyes on their prize.

Last month, I was fortunate to get to Bruce Springsteen's brilliant and humane Hope and Dreams concert. On the setlist was "Badlands," with its famous lyrics:

Poor man wanna be rich, rich man wanna be king And a king ain't satisfied till he rules everything.

I read recently that, with AI, American GDP may well continue to grow, and that by using GDP as a measure, the economy will look healthy. But how healthy is an economy going to be with 8-10% (or more) unemployment?

So let's remember the opening lines to "Badlands."

Light's out tonight
Trouble in the heartland

Zuckerberg didn't sail his ship into Lake Union to taunt the laid-off workers. Hell, he probably didn't even know where Launchpad was. He's got plenty of somebodies to see to the details of his lfe. (Maybe someday those somebodies will be AIs.)

But it's not that they're tone deaf. It's that, like Melania Trump, they really don't care. (Do you?)

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This post is a shoutout to my sister Trish, who tomorrow begins her well-earned, well-deserved retirement.

First saw this story referenced by Dom Ervolina on BlueSky, who was referencing Ben Kershner (I think on Insta). Thanks, fellows.

Image Source: Amazon where the jacket goes by "Womens Melania Lady The United State I Really Don’t Care Do U Green Jacket Trump Coat"

See the USA, in your Chevrolet

By Trump administration grifting standards, Sean Duffy's Great American Road Trip, a YouTube series dropping this month, is no big deal. The "reality" show features Duffy and his wife (Fox News host Rachel Campos-Duffy) and a large sampling of their kids (there are nine of them in total) visiting tourist spots across the country. Its supposed purpose is to get Americans to hop in the car with the kids and explore the US of A to celebrate our 250th anniversary. 

Calling the trip a "civic experience," Duffy is urging true red-white-and-blue Americans to “gas up the car, pack up the kids, get behind the wheel and get out and see America.”

Duffy is the telegenic Secretary of Transportation, a former reality star with an equally telegenic wife and kiddos.

Duffy and Campos-Duffy, also a former “Real World” and “Road Rules” cast member, said the program was filmed in “short” production windows like weekends and their childrens’ breaks from school, and that their family would not receive a salary or royalties from the show. (Source: Forbes)

And at NO expense to the taxpayers. Or so they say.

I'd wait until we see some sort of an audit - as if! - but I seem to remember Duffy's boss claiming that he, Trump himself, was picking up the tab for the Big Beautiful Ballroom. Then that generous, patriotic Americans (like Jeff Bezos) who don't want a thing out of Trump - or at least their generous patriotic companies which don't want a thing out of Trump - were paying for it. Until we found out that the cost estimates had grown from $200M to $1B, and that the taxpayers would be footing the bill.

But the claim is that a non-profit is underwriting the show:

The Great American Road Trip says it is a nonprofit 501(c)(4) organization that is “fully funding its own efforts to celebrate and share America’s story.” It lists several major sponsors, including Boeing, Toyota, Shell, Royal Caribbean, United Airlines, Google and Enterprise, but it is unclear how much money these companies have contributed and if those funds were used for the reality show. 

Well, it's not like Boeing, Toyota, Shell, Royal Caribbean, United Airlines, or Enterprise would want anything out of the Department of Transportation. Or that Google doesn't have any interest in what the Federal government does. So even if their contributions are funding the show, it's not as if these generous, patriotic corporations would expect any tit for tat for their organizations. Geez Louise, some folks are so cynical! If nothing else, the Trump Administration has always acted in an ethical, honest, transparent, and above board manner. (/s)

And what's this about encouraging  families to "gas up" and hit the road? I suppose since he's not exactly filling up the old station wagon out of his own pocket, Sean Duffy isn't all that aware about sticker shock at the pump.

Anyway, I watched part of the trailer and I have to say that the idea of a roadtrip does sound like fun. 

The Duffy family got to go fun places and do fun things, including a stop at the former firehouse in my neighborhood that was where Real World: Boston, which Duffy appeared in, was filmed. (This is more famously the place where Spenser lived in the 1980's series Spenser for Hire. And it's where I vote. Just not for Trump, Duffy, and their ilk.) Sorry I missed them when they were in my hood.

But I do kinda-sorta envy someone taking a road trip, even if the Duffy family's was done sporadically and doesn't quite fit my definition of a road trip, which doesn't include flying someplace for a weekend and pretending you drove there.

I'd love to go on a road trip. At least in theory. I'd probably get sick of all those hours in the car, the sketchy restrooms, the worn out motels, the boring diner food. And anyway, I don't need to put taking a road trip on my non-existent bucket list, as way back in the way back, I actually did go on one.

Late summer/early autumn of 1972, my college roommate and I - out of school with nothing in particular lined up to do - saw the USA. Not in a Chevrolet, as the ubiquitous ads of our childhood promoted, but in Joyce's Karmann Ghia.

We took the Northern route cross-country, the Southern route back.

On the first day, we drove through NY State during a near-tropical rainstorm. Destination: Niagara Falls, which we took in from both the US and Canadian sides. (On our way back into the country, US Customs tossed our car, removing every item from our carefully packed trunk looking for illicit drugs. Wrong girls! We were way, way, way, too cautious for that nonsense.)

Our next stop was Chicago, where we visited my grandmother and other family members. My cousin Ellen, who's the same age as Joyce and I, was very pregnant with Kate, her first child. Here was Ellen: all grown up, married, and having a baby, while Joyce and I were sporting around the country in a Karmann Ghia. 

Chicago was the last time we had a roof over our heads for a while, as we spent most of our nights on the road in state, federal, or KOA campgrounds, with an occasional splurge for a hotel (as when we stopped in Las Vegas).

It was a fabulous, and fabulously memorable, trip.

We stayed in many of our breathtakingly-beautiful national parks. Even the ludicrous faces on Mount Rushmore were in the breathtakingly-beautiful Black Hills. 

It was fun playing tourist, taking in the natural beauty of our vast and varied country while also enjoying the roadside attractions (e.g., Wall Drug in SD) and the wonders of the cities. (You try driving a manual shift car in San Francisco. I dare you.)

A full recounting of our road trip will have to wait for another day. So many highlights. Camping in Sequoia National Park when a mother black bear and her cubs decide to explore our campsite and nose around the well of our tent. (We spent the night sleeping inthe car, no small feat in a tiny Karmann Ghia.) The wonders f the San Diego Zoo. The squalor of Tijuana. (We crossed on foot. The one and only time I've set foot in Mexico.)

When we were driving into New Orleans - where we ate Oysters Rockefeller and Pompano en Papillote at Antoine's, another trip splurge  - Arlo Guthrie's City of New Orleans was blasting on the radio. How was that for timing?

So I absolutely understand why folks might want to heed Sean Duffy's call to get on the road. 

It's just that, giving everything that's going on, the timing's a bit off. 

And so is narcissistically using your family to showcase our complex, beautiful, and interesting country. Not to mention doing so at on behalf of the corporations you're supposed to be regulating.

As I said, by Trump standards, the grift is quite tiny. 

Still, when it comes to personally benefiting whenever and by whatever means are available, there's just no stopping this gang, is there?

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Image Source: Amazon, 

This is just very, very sad

On February 27th, in the early morning hours - a bit before 5 a.m. - there was a gruesome accident at the Davis Square MBTA station in Somerville, a Boston exburb. 

Steven McCluskey, a 40-year carpenter from South Boston, fell on the escalator and became trapped at the bottom. His shirt became stuck in the escalator gears and strangled him.

As video of the incident showed, it was nearly a half hour before the escalator was turne off, and a few minutes after that when Transit and Somerville police arrived on the scene. 

MBTA Transit and Somerville police found McCluskey “pinned at the bottom of the escalator,” the report said. He was “unresponsive, bare-chested, and his clothing was tightly lodged within the escalator steps,” the report said. (Source: Boston Globe)

A few minutes later, a crew from the Somerville Fire Department showed up. They gave McCluskey a dose of Narcan, cut his shirt, and adminstered CPR. McCluskey revived by died in the hospital on March 9th.

The video, which is horrifying in a number of different respects, showed not just McCluskey lying at the bottom of the escalator, strangling to death, but also a number of early morning/late shift commuters ignoring him. 

When they saw McCluskey at the foot of the escalator, his fellow travelers chose to take the steps down rather than stepping over what at that point was his still-alive body. A couple of people were shown pulling out there cell phones, presumably calling for help. This didn't occur until Steven McCluskey had been there for over 20 minutes. Prior to that, the admittedly few folks in the station at that hour just chose to walk on by.

Five a.m.? I'm thinking most of those who saw McCluskey assumed he was drunk or drugged out and just chose not to be bothered. I can't imagine anyone, however callous or preoccupied, would ignore someone if they thought he was dying. But that we'll never know.

There's been some criticism that no one bothered to stop the escalator by pressing one of the red buttons located at the top or the foot of the escalator. I've been in that T station, ridden that escalator (and the escalators in plenty of other T stations, dozens of times. And I don't know if I would have realized that there's a stop button, or whether I'd have had the presence of mind to actually use it.

But I like to think that I would have tried to help Steven McClulskey in some way. As an urban dweller, I've had several occasions when I've seen someone just lying there on the sidewalk. I've given someone a kick to see whether they're at all responsive. I've shaken someone's arm. I've called 911 and waited for them to show up. In one case, I called 911 back to cancel the ambulance when a couple of the buddies of the person lying there streamed out of McDonald's and somehow revived their friend. And then proceeded to yell at me for calling the cops. Oh, well. 

Would I have stopped to help Steven McCluskey? I like to think I would have. But that we'll never know.

I'm also a long-term volunteer in a day shelter, where I've witnessed a few of our guests OD-ing or convulsing, and have had to spring into the very small action of getting help - and then generally staying out of the way, as in a shelter there'll be plenty of folks gathering around the person who's down and out. And they need another lookee-lou with no training in anything other than human sympathy like they need a hole in the head. 

So I like to think I would have helped Stevn McCluskey. But that we'll never know.

This situation brought two things to mind. 

One was the Kitty Genovese incident that took place over 60 years ago.

Genovese was a young Queens NYC woman who was raped and murdered outside of her apartment building. The New York Times ran a major article asserting that several dozen neighbors witnessed/overheard the assault and did nothing. It was later shown that the Times article greatly exaggerated the situation, and that several people did call the police back in the day before 911 existed, back when calling the cops involved finding the local precinct number by dialing information or thumbing through the phone book. 

But the Times article went what we would now call viral and was picked up by television and print news throughout the country. Which is how I heard of it, back in the long ago, when I was in high school. The neighbors' (non)-response to the attack on Kitty Genovese came to represent the terrible apathy of not just residents of Kew Gardens in Queens NY, but of Americans in general. Kitty Genovese became a byword, a complete indictment of the national character, of who we are, of what we'd become.

I seldom get all religiousy, but the second thing the horrifying death of Steven McCluskey brought to mind was Christ in Gethsemane. He asked Peter, who'd fallen asleep while staying with his friend and leader while he awaited his fate, "What, could ye not watch with me but one hour?"

It's just so colossally sad that there was no one who could watch with Steven McCluskey while the life was strangled out of him. Was he in agony or had he passed out? He appeared lifeless, but did anyone kick his leg or shake his arm? Even if they didn't know enough to turn off the escalator, wasn't there someone who could shriek their lungs out trying to get help - even if there was little chance of there being much help around at the Davis Square T Station at 5 a.m.? Wasn't there someone who could stay by Steven McCluskey's side, telling him that help was the way? No one who could watch with him but 20 minutes?

Everyone who saw Steven McCluskey lying there will have to live with what they did or didn't do to help this poor man out.

What would I have done? That we'll never know. But it does get me thinking about my next encounter - and there will no doubt be one - with someone in need.

This is just so very, very sad. 

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Image Source - Davis T Station: Wikimedia Commons

Image Source - Kitty Genovese: Wikipedia

But is it art?

Although admittedly I don't go all that often, I do like going to art museums. I probably hit Boston's Museum of Fine Arts and/or the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum once a year. Or so. Throw in another occasion trip to an art museum when I'm traveling. Or just going to Worcester (an excellent small museum) or Salem (the wondrous Peabody Essex). So, yeah, I actually like visiting art museums.

(Confession: I also really, really, really love visiting art museum gift shops. I find the Met in NYC so overwhelming that, when I'm there, I'm happy to check out one or two galleries and then get me to the giftstore. I don't need a damn thing, but there's always room for a pack of notecards.)

When I'm at a museum, I love just strolling around and seeing works that are old friends (At Boston's MFA, one of them is Monet's La Japonaise, which took some flak a while back because the woman wearing the kimono was white; cultural appropriation of something). And I love seeing new things, too. 

As long as they're not too-too.

So I'm glad I was not strolling around the MFA, art appreciating LaJaponaise et al. when the museum hosted "a partially nude performance artist walking through its galleries."

That "partially nude performance artist" was one Xandra Ibarra:

Ibarra is among 12 contemporary artists whose work is featured in the new MFA exhibition, “Take Back the Nude: Subvert, Repair, Reclaim,” a collection of multimedia works that contemplate issues of objectification, exploitation, and erasure in relation to female nudity in Western art history. (Source: Boston Globe)

I have no problem with nudes, partial or otherwise, by the way. It's just that I prefer then carved in marble or hanging on the wall. 

And I really, really, really, really, really don't like performance art. 

I don't know whether I've actually ever seen any art performanced in person, but I've been reading about it - and seeing video glimpses - ever since I stumbled upon Karen Finley, who way back in the way back (1986) had a piece that involved shoving a yam up her butt. 

In 1986, I was donning a menswear wool suit and a floppy bowtie, and working at Wang Labs as a senior product manager. Which I guess in its own way was a bit of performance art. But Ibarra practices true performance art. 

Here's how the MFA's website describes Ibarra's partially-clad piece, "Nude Laughing:"

In this performance, artist Xandra Ibarra uses endurance-based laughter and her nude body to uncover the vexed relation racialized subjects have not only to their own skin, but also to their entanglements with whiteness and white womanhood. As she laughs and fills a nylon cocoon with paradigmatic “white lady accoutrements” including blonde hair, ballet shoes, furs, pearls, and fake breasts, Ibarra visualizes and embodies the skein of race, negotiating the simultaneous joys and pains of subjection, abjection, and personhood. (Source: MFA)

"Endurance-based laughter." Well, I've done plenty of that in my time, but is it any wonder that the show was one-day only? 

Reviews (i.e., comments on social media) were mixed:

“Wtf is this nonsense?” wrote one commenter... “Seriously? So vulgar,” wrote another... “This is absolutely ridiculous!” seethed yet another. “This is not fine art. I may reconsider membership.” Source: Boston Globe)

But to counterbalance those who viewed Ibarra's work as "garbage," there was someone who found it "ah-mazing." Pro-"Nude Laughing" folks looked down their ultra-sophisticated, hip and happening noses, noting that those who have a problem with it are priggish, prudier-than-thou Puritans:

“If your response to a woman’s body is disgust, you’re immature & have some growing to do,” replied one woman on Instagram...“Bostonians, clutching their pearls per usual,” said another.

Well, call me a pearl-clutcher, but I can't be the only one who finds performance art narcissistic, idiotic, and unartful.Even though, as I said earlier, I prefer my nudes in marble or framed on a wall, but it's not the nudity that's bothersome. I am not replused by a nude woman's body. It's the faux-outrageous banality of performance art that gets me.

Yes, I am a provincial old lady, but I have been to plenty of museums - and I even took a class in modern art in college: so there! - and I know art when I see it. I realize that art appreciation is somewhat subjective. (Just not fully. Is there anyone who would argue that Thomas Kincaid is superior to Claude Monet?)

But I know art when I see it, and "Nude Laughing" ain't it.

Glad I wasn't making my annual trek the MFA for this show! 

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Image Source - Monet: Wikipedia
Image Source - Botticelli: Artsy