As on most, or at least some, Fridays, here’s a look, irregular as it might be, of some of the unusual searches that brought recent visitors to The Rittenhouse Review. Lots of fun crap this week.

Brooklyn Heights Peggy Noonan
Hasn’t anyone smashed that damned window yet?

Sean Hannity Seldin
If you went to high school with me, and you probably didn’t, you would understand why the combination of these three words is too disturbing to contemplate.

Daniel Suhr 9/11 tapes
Yes, Dan Suhr of the New York Fire Department, whom I knew in college and who was killed by a jumper at the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, and whose brother I knew before that, was in the news again recently, most notably in the New York Times, in “Vast Archive Yields New View of 9/11,” by Jim Dwyer et al.

Christopher Hitchens owe the de
“Owe the de?” The “de”? Surely you mean The Tab. Likely a very large one, they tell me.

massage parlor reviews King of Prussia
Wow, you are so in the wrong place, even if, as I assume, your reference to King of Prussia is to the Philadelphia suburb, or shopping center, and not to some syphilitic former German monarch.

Swarthmore College faculty member Lyndon LaRouche
Someone please tell me this is not true, that there is no connection nor relationship whatsoever between Swarthmore and LaRouche.

Jeep Wrangler roll over statistics
Hold on there, buddy. You’re talking about my first car ever. (By the way, the second car ever can be seen here.) Never rolled over on me. Don’t dis’ it on me, or at least in front of me.

Jessica Pressler and Koch
Oh, please, Jessica, tell me it’s not true.

how much does a manicurist make
Gee whiz, I don’t know. Why not ask pretend economist Virginia Postrel?

pill counting machine
I believe this is what, in these days and times, is called a pharmacist.

Mark Wahlberg Rittenhouse
Look, I won’t say whether or not there’s something there, as I’m not the type to kiss and tell, but I’ll admit I was happy to hear Marky Mark Mr. Wahlberg is in town filming Invincible.

has Ann Coulter ever been nominated for Pulitzer Prize?
Oh please. Grow up, would you?

Twizzlers expiration code dates
And here I thought my stash of Twizzlers could survive a nuclear holocaust.

Mallo Cup museum
Chocolate, creamy marshmallow, a touch of roasted cocoanut. Delicious. I’m into it; I love `em. But a museum?

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[It’s been a long day, including a trip out of town, so allow me to post at least something today, even if I have to borrow from my other blog, TRR: The Lighter Side of Rittenhouse, to do so.]

Overheard this morning at Robin’s Bookstore, an independent bookseller on South 13th Street in Center City Philadelphia, part of a conversation between two employees:

Employee No. 1: “In the e-mail he was telling me all about Bangladesh. Sounded awful.”

Employee No. 2: “Bangladesh isn’t so bad.”

Employee No. 1: “Well I told him not to go to Turkey.”

Employee No. 2: “Bangladesh and Turkey aren’t the same thing.”

Employee No. 1: “They’re not?”

Mr. McNally, please call your office. Mr. McNally.

Enough, though, with Bangladesh. How about we talk about Thailand?

I ask because it’s not only nearby, nearby Bangladesh I mean, but also because the New York Times today has an interesting piece, “An Exquisite Path to an Elusive Past,” by Holland Carter (Bonus points for the cool name, Holland!), about a new and apparently fascinating exhibit at the Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, Mass., “The Kingdom of Siam: The Art of Central Thailand, 1350-1800” (through October 16), that I wish I could see.

[Post-publication addendum: Oh, okay, how about one more from over there today? “Are You Plussed or Nonplussed?”]

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Useless Knowledge Mag has a brief item up today, “Pharmacists, The FDA And The Morning After Pill” (Warning: Irritating flashing ads.), by Jane Hill, in which is written: “And what if the pharmacist is a Christian Scientist? Can he [sic] refuse to prescribe antibiotics or other chemicals not sanctioned by his/her [sic] faith?”

What an odd and ill-informed remark, not even clever by half.

There simply is no such thing as a Christian Scientist pharmacist. It is an impossibility, a contradiction in terms, as the two attributes, for lack of a better word, are wholly and self-evidently incompatible.

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I'm talking to you, New Yorkers: Stay right where you are. Don't even think about it.

Jessica Pressler, the best reason to read PW, the alternative paper formerly known as Philadelphia Weekly, writes in today's New York Times ("Philadelphia Story: The Next Borough," and I know she didn't write that lame headline) about an emerging phenomenon -- New Yorkers picking up and relocating here -- and draws attention to a web site that by its very name scares the hell out of me: Move to Philly Dot Com:

Attracted by a thriving arts and music scene here and a cost of living that is 37 percent lower than New York's, according to city figures, a significant number of youngish artists, musicians, restaurateurs[,] and designers are leaving New York City and heading down the turnpike for the same reasons they once moved to Brooklyn from Manhattan.

I'm all for growth in Philadelphia, expanding the tax base, and sprucing things up a bit. But welcoming New Yorkers? Particularly those of the "trendy" and "hip" sorts? Promoting the already disturbing New-York-ification of this city? That's taking things too far.

"Wait a minute," you say. "Didn't you move to Philadelphia from New York?"

Well, yeah, but that's different. Somehow. Mostly because I'm neither trendy nor hip.

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Here's a tip: If you're the kind of person, like me, who doesn't like to draw attention to himself in public (at least in person, in the flesh), don't read Jennifer Weiner's piece in today's Philadelphia Inquirer, "Winning Nanna Over," while sitting in your neighborhood Starbucks.

Excerpt:

"Jen?" she said, lowering her voice to a confidential whisper, as if there were spies from Us magazine hiding in her closet. "They're making a movie out of your book!"

Yes, I said. They mentioned that to me. Then I unveiled my secret weapon, the move guaranteed to vault me to the top of the pecking order. "Would you like to be an extra?" I asked.

Nanna demurred. "Well, I'm not much of an actress."

While I was surprised that she'd already given herself a speaking part, I didn't let on. "No, you don't have to say anything. You just have to be there. Like part of the background."

"Hmm," said Nanna. "I'll think about it."

Now you can bet that if this was one of my cousin's books being made into a movie, she wouldn't have been doing any thinking. But I told her that was fine, and the next morning she called me back and said, "I'll do it!"

At which point, I was screwed.

Plenty of laugh-out-loud bits in this one.

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It’s not an age-old question, but it is an interesting query that many have posed, including, just today, Philadelphia Inquirer reporter and newbie blogger (Blinq), Daniel Rubin:

Why are there so many bloggers in Philadelphia, particularly liberal bloggers?

I don’t know the answer, even though I’m part of the process or endeavor that spawns the very question. There’s nothing unusual in the air or the water here, at least not that I’m aware of, though it’s true that great and profound political events happen here, or have happened here in the past.

Perhaps it has to do with this city’s location between the inordinately self-absorbed power centers of New York and Washington: near enough to be aware of what’s going on in both (and to assemble Rolodexes with contacts in each), but far enough not to fear offending anyone in either.

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Barbara Bel Geddes, Northeast Harbor, Maine: stage, film, and television actress, 1922-2005.

I don’t know if there is, or ever was, a Bel Geddes Fan Club, but if there were, and if I were the type to do such a thing, I just might become a member.

There was something about her, or about her portrayal of various roles -- particularly her sublime performance as Marjorie ‘Midge’ Wood in Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo -- that called to mind several of the women, past and present, I’ve long admired in my own family.

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Ernesta Drinker Ballard, Philadelphia: socialite, debutante, horticulturalist, author, teacher, preservationist, businesswoman, skateboarding advocate, mother, wife, feminist, 1920-2005.

Some obituaries really are worth reading. In addition to the link already provided (for “‘One of the great citizens’ of Philadelphia,” by Rusty Pray, Philadelphia Inquirer, August 12), see “Ernesta Ballard, a 'Treasure,’ Dies,” by John F. Morrison, and “A Philadelphia Icon Passes,” both in the Philadelphia Daily News.

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They're arresting Pinochets again. No, not the former dictator (and friend of Kissinger), Augusto Pinochet, and not in Great Britain. This time it's his wife, Lucía Hiriart de Pinochet, and their son, Marco Antonio Pinochet. The pair were arrested in Santiago and charged with helping poppy Pinochet illegally funnel millions of dollars of uncertain origin to bank accounts outside of Chile. Larry Rohter of the New York Times reports ("Pinochet's Wife and Son Charged in Tax Fraud Case"), "In recognition of her fragile health, Mrs. Pinochet, 82, was being held in the Military Hospital in the Chilean capital."

Predictably, Pinochet the Lesser whined about his family being inconvenienced: "This is like a bullet in the head. What do they want? There is no respect for anything or anyone on our side."

Ever stop to wonder why, pobrecito?

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Interesting, I think, and for me gratifying and a pleasure, that the too-long-delayed return of regular publishing at The Rittenhouse Review should come in a post from a guest blogger, my friend and fellow Philadelphian, writer Gloria Hayes. Please join me in welcoming Ms. Hayes to the Review, with this, her first contribution to the weblog.

“If combat means living in a ditch, females have biological problems staying in a ditch for thirty days because they get infections and they don’t have upper body strength. I mean, some do, but they're relatively rare. On the other hand, men are basically little piglets, you drop them in the ditch, they roll around in it, doesn’t matter, you know.” -- Former Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich

Conservatives of Newt Gingrich’s ilk, hawks who opted not to serve during Vietnam, in the past have expressed curious and implausible opinions about women and their effectiveness in combat. Of course, few who planned the ill-fated 2003 invasion and occupation of Iraq actually ever served in combat, so their hypotheses on the lack of fortitude of women in ditches, unsupported by experience or evidence, may well turn out to be as thoroughly discredited as the delusional images of throngs of grateful Iraqis greeting invading American troops bearing chocolate and rose petals.

But there are ditches and there are ditches, and since Saturday, August 6, Cindy Sheehan has been relegated to a ditch on a dusty road outside President George Bush’s Crawford, Texas, home. It is in Crawford, at the getaway widely referred to as a “ranch,” where the president recently began a five-week vacation that will distinguish his presidency as setting the record for time spent off the clock only months into his second term.

Of course, in light of disturbingly mounting casualties in Iraq, a grand jury investigation into the White House spy-leaking scandal, a controversial recess appointment, and plummeting approval ratings, some part of the respite may theoretically include a session or two in damage control and rebranding the War on Terror.

Nobody, least of all those who have lost family members in the war on Iraq, said this latest respite would be without controversy. Sheehan, whose son Casey Sheehan died in Iraq in April 2004, has vowed to remain at her post -- the ditch -- until President Bush answers her questions about the “noble cause” that has claimed the life of more than 1,800 servicemen and women, and his insistence that staying the course is the only way to honor the fallen. Purported biological frailties notwithstanding, Sheehan’s vigil will last every bit as long as the president’s lengthy vacation.

The immovable object of President Bush’s resolve is about to be met by the irresistible force of a grieving mother who wants real answers to her questions -- far more than the mere platitudes so readily accepted by the media. In response to her patient determination, the soft-spoken Sheehan says she has been told by authorities that she poses a security risk and will be arrested on Thursday when Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld and Condoleezza Rice make a scheduled visit to the Bush vacationstead. The nature of the risk Sheehan poses has not been explained, and whether the threatened arrest will occur remains to be seen.

Meanwhile, Camp Casey is becoming a focal point for growing public restiveness with President Bush’s handling of the increasingly violent deadly Iraq resistance and his apparent lack of a contingency plan or perceived need for one. Activists from several organizations have pledged their support for Cindy Sheehan and the swelling ranks of supporters are sure to draw even more media attention.

The visibility of the Peaceful Occupation, and the sympathetic protagonist at the center of it, should be a matter of concern for the Bush administration, which is renowned for shaping the message in its favor. The right-wing smear machine is kicking into gear and it remains to be seen who will be the victor in the battle for the hearts and minds -– a gold-star mother whose son has made the ultimate sacrifice in service to his country, or the perpetually vacationing commander-in-chief who last year didn’t trouble himself to meet her nor even bother to learn her departed son’s name.

Gloria Hayes lives and writes in Philadelphia.

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