Baby Turns 1

Happy Birthday to me. Today GA turns 1.

Time flies on the blogosphere and then it doesn't. It seems like yesterday since GA posted this one year ago today:

I wonder how Dr. Frank Romano is doing?  He hopped right out of the coffin over to a post as School Superintendent of Franklin Lakes, New Jersey.  Best wishes to Superintendent Romano.

I started to say a lot's happened to GA since Baby was born but I'm not feeling too retrospective-y at the moment.  I will say that this small, personal blog has gotten a disproportionate amount of attention for what it really is.

In my view, the reason for that attention is a combo of political opportunism, misogyny and the power of images.

The graphics on this site are no more than visual blog-posts. They are no more sarcastic, wry, profane or vitriolic than any of the comments you will read on any other blog.  And fewer pairs of eyeballs find them than the comments on  'bigger' blogs. But these images seem to hit a lot of nerves.

And so a fatwa of sorts hangs on the creator of the content here, and you have the likes of Lane Bajardi  (a.k.a. 'Poop Jihadi') fishing for GA material to fight his proxy war on the mayor at the City Council. Really quite bizarre, if you think about it. These folks surely have better things to do than suppress free speech in America.

Is Hoboken still in America?

Not if this guy can help it.

I touched on political opportunism and the power of images.  The other reason GA's gotten attention is the fact I'm a gal.  Yes, it's true!  A double-X.  Misogyny is, in my view,  the fever that drives the anti-Zimmer fanatics; you can see it in the kind of criticism she gets-- about her looks ( 'Banjo Eyes'  the latest) and her capabilities (she's nothing without her husband).  Women with too much power piss them off.   

But not too much money.

Women with opinions piss them off, too. Betcha a male GA wouldn't get half the shit I do.  Maybe one-quarter.  Okay, a third.

Let's measure.

All that aside... I love doing GA.  I write whatever I feel like.

And I hope it's a fun read- entertaining without hurting your brain but (usually) with an embedded message.  Like morse code.  Minus the morse.

So thank you for supporting this blog.

And if you don't, thanks for stopping by.


  1. C'mon the Horsey gets as much as you do. Stop being sexist!

  2. No, I'm sorry to correct you Scott.

    I've used my Pyrex measuring cup and Horsey gets approx. 1/3 of my portion, though his is carrot juice. And it's true: Perry Belefiore has never called me a "bastard" at the City Council. I suppose I'm jealous of Horsey for that. I only get called a Nazi-lover. I think being a "bastard" is slightly higher on the food-chain.

    Did you know that Perry washes his hair with Fructis by Garnier? His hair is as soft as butter. And fluffy. Kinda like a Greek god. I hear his hair is running in the 5th ward. The only problem is the REST of him is running, too. Do people vote for hair?

  3. I'd have to agree. You're getting an extra splash in the ole pyrex. It's different when you have children, especially the public postings of your personal information. There seem to be people on who actually don't have any posts not aimed at you. And there's Patio, Barracato, recreational character assassination from Mason & her gestap- that is to say, her supporters, NJDC, being called an anti-semite in a televised meeting and no one on our side arguing otherwise. And then there's Bajardi, our toilet televangelist, going from meeting to meeting with a picture of a turd and shouting about Satan and the decline of public discourse (while waving a picture of a turd on TV - God, if he had a sense of humor he'd be brilliant). And now we have Mr. 4AM predator.

    You're a better man than I am, sister. The baby deserves a big kiss from everyone, especially me.

  4. Well I for one think your disparagers are on your case maybe partly because of your gender but much more because they're jealous! They don't have the right equipment to bring to a battle of wits, so instead they turn up wildly brandish a shit attitude and an expensive 'machine' gun set to "overkill".

    Anyway birthday baby, we'll aren't you aging gracefully? Your doesn't look a day over 11 months and two weeks. Well okay, maybe three weeks to the outside. But definitely less than a year. A non-leap year.

    Remember, we're not getting older, we're, um, okay, let's face it, we are just freakin' getting older. But you're very good at it! A final bit of advice, please be careful what you wish for when you blow out that candle, you just might get it.

    A final thought, I salute you for making the world a little safer for free speech. Especially the kind they don't want to hear.

    In closing, I've got two words for you, and this time they are indeed "Happy Birthday". And I'd still say that if you were a man. I think. Well you tell me.

  5. Thanks, ply.

    Please, trust me when I say I'm on no anti-male jihad nor have an estrogen-fueled persecution complex.

    But the facts is the facts.

    Yes, for sure you'd say "Happy Birthday" were I a man, woman or newt. But I shouldn't ever put words in your mouth!


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