Maybe all parking meter systems work like this and I’ve been oblivious to it. But, those stats just blew my mind.
Richmonders are putting almost $700,000 a year into parking meters but are paying $3.9 million a year in meter fines. I thought we had a parking meter system with fines when we really have a parking fines system with meters.
Given how constricted parking is downtown during the business day, this feels a bit predatory. And, given the amount of money being generated by fines, it makes you wonder if the City of Richmond actually wants and even needs people to commit meter space violations.
you know those moments you have when something seems like a good idea at the time?
Like… when you throw a lovely cashmere sweater into the washer when a figment of a small voice is furtively whispering, “don’t throw that in the washer, don’t throw that in the washer…”
And then, when you take it out of the washer, and it looks a little smaller than when it went in, but it seems like a good idea to throw it in the dryer, even though the same telltale voice can be faintly, yet fiercely heard admonishing, “surely, you don’t want to throw that in the dryer…”
It all seems like a good idea at the time.
The whole civil war was ridiculous if you ask Me. Are you? Either way, I’m sure you realize by now that you’ll get My opinion.
If you want the brutal truth, though, you must realize there’s a price. Really. But it’s convenient. All payments can be conveniently deposited through Pay Pal.
Neither here nor there.
There were points during the civil war where either side could have captured the other’s capital. Washington D.C. and Richmond are only a 100 or so miles away from each other.
At times northern and southern troops were literally so close to each other on the battlefield they could hear each other snore while they slept at night. Playwright and Richmond native, Clay McLeod Chapman, did a brilliant job of providing a glimpse into this part of history in his play, “Lee’s Miserables,” which made its world premiere at the truly delightful Sycamore Rouge theatre/cabaret a little ways yonder of Richmond in Petersburg, Virginia.
By Sunday, April 2, 1865, General Lee’s lines surrounding Richmond proper had been breached by northern troops. That morning Confederate President Davis was at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, which still stands downtown at the corner of Grace and Ninth streets across from the Capitol Square.
A message from General Lee arrived for Davis at the parish stating that Richmond must be abandoned. Like all good bureaucrats in our history, Davis left immediately to the Capitol where he started burning confederate documents.
And, then, the good ideas started rolling in…
The burning of all alcohol was also ordered, as was the burning of the tobacco warehouses. Can you imagine what sort of mayhem alcohol set free in city streets would cause as well as the rapid storm a set of unchecked fires can set loose?
Over 900 buildings, including homes, churches and businesses, beyond the initial spark were incinerated. Finally, the seeming moment of pure genius among this catastrophic confederate catharsis was to scuttle the iron clad confederate ships bearing thousands of shells, which then proceeded to rain down on the city like a deranged fireworks display.
When Abraham Lincoln walked the Richmond streets only two days later, it signaled the fall of the great southern civilization to the outside world. Defeated and on his way home, General Lee rode through the city ten days later on “Traveler.”
Like all of the grandest ideas that travel through our heads – they stay firmly rooted in a hallowed past that never goes away.
“you disappoint Me with your hesitation, slave,” I said, slapping his face.
Listen up, fuckface, or whatever self-hating name you might choose to torture yourself with – I don’t fuck around with expectations.
Yes, I give my girlfriends credit. It is true. If you have no expectations going in to a relationship, you will not be disappointed. I don’t play that way, bitch.
I don’t play at all. I decide that you’re not a complete waste of My time and in return, you get the uniquely charming quote/unquote pleasure of My company.
Playful, yes. Play, no.
you cry like a pathetic little baby and I kick you to your crib.
I agree with Seth Godin in his concept of the paradox of expectations. High expectations, he says, will inevitably lead to disappointment.
That’s right. I expect the best.
Although, Seth’s road to inevitable disappointment is caused by the constant raising of expectations. Is that the snake that eats its own tail?
The road to hell is paved with what?
In Richmond, Virginia, it’s an endless string of spontaneously erupting potholes that never seem to disappear. Yes, I expect the best from the municipal street repair powers that be: fix the potholes or go to …
When you come into My life, in whatever capacity, know this: I expect the best.
My disappointment around what I expect in any relationship is relative to the number of festering potholes you refuse to fix.
It’s a good thing, kiddos, to venture out into the world with the expectation of safe travels. Why do you think so many dummies hurl themselves from planes?
Nobody expects to go splat into a million little pieces.
Nobody expects to be sucked into a pothole. But it’s mighty fucking inconvenient and unnecessary wear-and-tear on my luxury vehicle. It’s really impolite to slap Me in the ass with the bump of My best expectations of the best possible pavement for My fine-ass vehicle going bump over a big fucking hole.
Whether you’re foolish enough to jump out of a perfectly good airplane or foolhardy enough to enter into my life – you best be bringin’ your best bring.
I expect there will be potholes. Inevitably.
I do not hesitate to expect the best from you.
As a matter of fact –
in My world –
I claim it.
“you will learn to serve your Goddess properly,” with another slap across his face.
“Now, tell Me again,” I said, locking eyes with him as I pulled out a length of duct tape that sounded like it was an unholy band-aid being ripped off of naked skin, “how honored you are to be in My presence.”
“Yes, Goddess, i am not worthy to receive Your attention. i know that i must prove myself. Please. i beg for Your patience, Goddess. i tremble in Your presence.” And he did.
Let’s see you shake, kiddos. Shake your little asses so ferociously in expectation, you shake off the hesitation. Don’t be afraid to disappoint.
Slaps and Kisses.
…my local bank branch too… gotta love this freaky little city
The best part is that this is my local bank branch.
I like my men like I like my roses … by the dozen.
- Barbara La Marr, American movie star
* She was one of the first Californians to become rich in the motion picture industry; she was also probably the first to become an actress after being a scenario writer first. MGM chief Louis B. Mayer chose Hedy Lamarr’s name in honor of Barbara La Marr.
* Arrested at age 14 for underage burlesque dancing.
* Although her foster family maintained she was born in North Yakima, Washington, she always listed Richmond, Virginia as her place of birth on all official documents, including marriage certificates.
Local Richmond, Virginia artist, Keithley Pierce is the creative genius behind ”Bad Girl Art .”
She describes her company overview as, “being irreverent, having fun, laughing at life,” and adds to the description: “Just general badness or maybe badassness.”
You can find on her on facebook here - Bad Girl Art.
Or, you can email her at: email@example.com
If you’ve ever been introduced to Me, you know that I am an unashamed, unabashed Capitalist with a capital “C.” (See the first book.)
As an astute Businesswoman, one of my favorite (business) books is “Sun Tzu Was a Sissy: Conquer Your Enemies, Promote Your Friends, and Wage the Real Art of War,” by Stanley Bing.
(There’s also my quirky fascination at the front with otherwise vicious successes bearing otherwise unfuckable-sounding names. Hello. “Elliott Smellalot.” C’mon already, folks, see the first book. Ahem – Rule #8: In the balance between sociopath and smart boy, don’t take chances with nerds.)
“Finally,” says Stan (the Man – in My (No, not humble) esteemed opinion), “Sun Tzu talks a lot about Tao and other spiritual kinds of material like that, which frankly, I find kind of offensive in a discussion about war, and killing, and fighting. As far as I’m concerned, let’s have the good taste to leave Tao out of it, huh? Blood? Guts? Raw, animal hatred? Sure. But Tao? Come on.”
I said, “The extent that I care anything at all about who you are or where you’re coming from or whatever your psychological motivation, spiritual orientation, physical compulsion might be in coming to call on Me is bound up in My own professional standard of excellence.” (It’s right there in print in your very first introduction to Me. Duh. I will not repeat myself a third time. you know where to go to look it up.)
Excellence, girls and boys. Have it.
Don’t sit back and pray about it. Be it.
At the end of every Warrior’s day – you are it.
Be ruthless. Being a sissy in whatever battles you choose to engage in (and choose well, My darlings) will get you nowhere except to the bottom of my dungeon.
Where, I will unashamedly make you pay for your squeamishness. Literally and figuratively. (Pay Pal preferred.)
When that earthquake rode through Richmond, Virginia recently, I didn’t feel a thing. People were amazed. I think it’s because I’m used to having the earth tremble beneath my feet.
Choose your best Warrior’s pose and stand your fucking ground, kiddos.
“Richmond Varietease, a local burlesque performing group, has been forbidden to perform at the Canal Club because of a law that prevents striptease performances in specific types of clubs that served mixed alcoholic beverages.”
Click the title above for the full newspiece.
See? I told you in the first book — there’s a real live on-the-books law around here against keeping a “bawdy place.” And folks who ain’t from ‘round these here parts actually wonder…as do the ones that are very Richmond … buncha closet freaks … Really? (Yep.)
Those who know Me (and even some who don’t, still) know that:
(Here’s a little secret: I’m a history buff with my own particular, sometimes slightly compulsive, obsessions. sissy boy j. had no idea what he was really doing when he took Me for a drive down Monument Avenue one Sunday evening in the fall.) See GOOD PART #1 in the first book.
I love that Richmond, Virginia is surrounded by historical artifacts (otherwise freakish, otherwise perverted). This past Monday, as a matter of fact, marked the 149th anniversary of the Battle of Gaines’s Mill.
Even though they eventually lost in the American version of civil war, Confederates won this battle, said to be the most intense fighting of the whole entire war. It’s what lead one Union soldier to say that “Hell itself seemed to break loose.”
All sorts of clever freakishness and natural perversions broke out of this battle. Go here for full battle details.
When Union General George B. McClellan sailed his Army of the Potomac down the Chesapeake Bay and started slowly marching it across the Peninsula, he had one main objective: take Richmond (the Capital of the Confederacy) down. Just the previous day, on June 26, 1862, his Union soldiers had successfully beaten back General Robert E. Lee’s Confederate soldiers at the Battle of Mechanicsville, on the outskirts of Richmond, in the county of Hanover.
Even though Lee was still holding, the last thing he expected was a retreat by the Union. McClellan, however, knew that “Stonewall” Jackson’s troops had just arrived as victorious Confederate reinforcements. Further feeding into McClellan’s fear was an elaborate ruse directed by theater enthusiast and Confederate General John B. Magruder involving a hot air balloon flying overhead along with much noise and movement along Confederate lines. (Clever boys.)
Note here: aerial reconnaissance as we know it in the United States today began with hot air balloons during the civil war.
Richmond’s elite, including the Confederate president himself, Jefferson Davis, (again, see GOOD PART #1 for a “first date” outing with “My little southern capital boy.”) gathered as witnesses safely behind Confederate lines. Freakishly – they could hear no sounds of the fighting that they could see even though the battle was taking place only a few miles away, due to a phenomenon called “acoustic shadow” created by pockets of dense moist air.
Interesting momentary statement by nature: being able to see, but not to hear. Occasionally I’ve been known to (otherwise obsessively) explore (otherwise classic) American films. It makes me think of the film, “Blindness,” the adaptation of the novel with the same name by Nobel Prize-winning Portuguese author José Saramago.
A mass epidemic of blindness where victims succumb to an expanse of dazzling white as if they were “swimming in milk” strikes an unnamed society. Everything degenerates fairly quickly into dehumanization; violence, killing, and brutality. Then one day the blindness lifts.
When Hell itself seems to break loose, boys and girls, here’s to maintaining clear sight.
Flo said it first. And, not the Flo that hangs out pimping car insurance – the original Flo – the Badass redheaded hash-slinger from Mel’s Diner:
KISS MY GRITS.
When I’m in a certain mood – like the one I’m gearing up for this Saturday evening right here in the River City of Richmond, Virginia, I have one (comparable) thing to say:
LICK MY ASS.
I’m expecting a superb rim job from those little boys from Butler.
I’m not from here nor did I attend VCU (Virginia Commonwealth University).
And – even though I’ve now officially maintained a P.O. box and, gulp, an actual residence, here in Richmond for more than half a decade now, I still find myself feeling somewhat ambivalent. Nice. Ambivalent about my own (somewhat) ambivalence.
I mention in the first book that Richmond, Virginia suits me at this point. “And, Richmond itself remains the ever undying capital of The Confederate States of America, (you know the guys who lost in the American version of civil war).”
Obsessed with the undead? (I also confess my “secret” history buff nature in the first book.) Looking for undying history (and/or other special freakishness)? Come visit Richmond.
Call me sentimental in the course of My Dominatrix profession – but nothing thrills me more than losers who exhibit undying (historical) potential. I love the challenge of the losers who challenge Me by refusing to roll over and play dead. I love losers who become Winners.
So here we are. And, here I am. It’s Saturday evening in this freakish little town of Richmond, Virginia that calls itself a city about to witness a history-making job at the rim. The VCU Rams, those sexy (almost statutory) ballers are rolling into the Final Four.
Be afraid, Butler, be very afraid.
KISS OUR GRITS and LICK OUR ASSES!
A light display on the Dominion building in downtown Richmond, VA says “VCU GO RAMS!” (Photo contributed by Ms. Esra Kazanoglu)
I said: “Take off all your clothes.”
I’m the one that needs to tell you that now is the time to take off all your clothes?
On this first day of the year 2011 - which according to what’s batted around about the Mayan calendar, could quite possibly be the first day of the rest of our existence on this planet - here’s to the luscious young buck that didn’t have to be told to get (almost) naked a few days ago at Richmond International Airport.
Really. He is a cutie pie - just my barely legal cup of tea. Check him out here.
Aaron B. Tobey, 21 (hot damn for the age of consent) and from Charlottesville, (it’s no Richmond, but it’s still Virginia), was “absent of pants and shirt in full public view, exposing language regarding the Fourth Amendment,” according to Richmond airport spokesman, Troy M. Bell.
In case you don’t know, bitches, the naked hunk of the message is: “The right of the people to be secure against unreasonable searches and seizures shall not be violated.” The good-looking hunk was subsequently cited for disorderly conduct.
Come over here, hunky-hunk, I’ll give you some of my own disorderly conduct.
It does take an older experienced woman to lead a young man into a proper lesson though. Props to Tammy Banovac, gorgeous gun-toting Playboy bunny surgeon AKA “Badass Bitch” who took off all her clothes to teach civil liberties intruders a lesson first in Oklahoma City a month prior to our gorgeous young buck’s fourth amendment frolic.
Oh yeah, look at her face - that bitch don’t play.
(Oh yeah, and tell CBS News online, they need to offer a tumblr link option.)
So again, bitches, if you can afford the luxury, I’ll bitch-slap you myself. You’re obviously willing to give up your civil liberties for the price of an airline ticket.
Now. Take off all your clothes.