As I took this photo of Rex menacing gay Philip Johnson's glass cathedral and plaza in downtown Pittsbugh, a security guard ran up to me and told me NOT to photograph, especially the building tops (guess he never heard of the web). Since 911, he began, we are aware of terrorists."You're not serious?"
I asked.
The guard bristled, 'deed they were. He moved his hand to his gun.
I smiled and moved on, as he watched me head back cross the Allegheny to the safety of the Andy Warhol Factory. Tourists. Terrorists. Those words are pretty similar, you have to admit.
Here we are in the land that used to be free. Each day the Texan appoints more evangelicals from Texas to take away those freedoms we've been taking for granted.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Halls of Justice, indictments are arriving at last. No more delay for Delay. Time to frisk Frist. Scooter is scooting, and Rove will have to rove on over to the Grand Jury for some serious questioning. Bush is looking bushed himself. 2006. 2008. Hope?
As Tammy rains on Atlanta, as John Roberts assails Oregon for letting people die in peace, as I lose my train of thought to Fleetwood Mac and plans for trips to Kalani and Stockholm, the atomic clock ticks on.
Peace.
Jameson
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