Selling My Books on the Streets of Brooklyn 11/14

Yesterday I experienced urban delight, finding a parking spot as soon as I rolled up to Bay Parkway. Today it was urban despair, the law of averages catching up with me with a vengeance, as I waited two hours for a space to open up on home turf. I had to even sweat that one out, as it was across the intersection at Avenue Z and East 13th, and I was sure someone would take it before the light turned green, as had occurred with another spot a half hour earlier. Good thing I had cut the engine. Needless to see, I was miffed. As life so often does, I was soon handed a dose of perspective. Steve, the poet laureate of Sheepshead Bay, showed. His mom's house caught fire a few days ago, the source as yet unknown. Fortunately, no one was hurt. She will be living with him at least the next six months, the time repairs are expected to take.
Grandma bought a crime novel in Russian. I have one book left in that language and I've wondered why no one has seemed interested in it and why it has drawn scoffs from some. I asked a couple of women, who said it's about God, and I immediately recalled a cartoon that was in one of my elementary school textbooks at St. Mary's, of a stern teacher lecturing a weeping boy, pointing to a blackboard on which: "There is no God" had been scrawled. It sent chills down my spine. It was the 50's, a time of heavy propaganda, ideological war. A lot of the evil the Soviets were suspected of has since been verified. The cartoon doesn't seem off the mark in retrospect. I wonder if the percentage of atheism is higher in the former Soviet Union, which embraced the ideas of Karl Marx, of which "Religion is the opiate of the people" is one of the most quoted. Who knows? Spasibo, ladies.
Jack purchased Corporate Nation by Charles Derber and Ralph Nader, which he plans to bring to the Occupy Wall Street library. Seems like a perfect fit. Thanks, Jack.
Speaking of OWS, guess whose house this is in Michigan. He also has a luxury pad on Park Avenue in Manhattan.

Filmmaker Michael Moore, who considers himself one of the 99%. I imagine he is sharing the humble abode with those who have been foreclosed and the homeless.
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