Things Can Get Dirty

I don't generally make political comments about Russia, but this story appeared in my hometown paper.

I saw OMOH heavies (the Russian SWAT equivalents) hanging out in a square on Saturday when I walked Skittles to her cooking class. They were mostly smoking cigarettes and taking pictures of each other. They make me smile, ever so slightly, because I am told that the Spanish gays, among others, covet their uniforms and regalia because it is all emblazoned with the acronym OMOH, which looks like HOMO backwards. The H is really an N, but never mind. Anyhow, they arrested 90 on Sunday.

The gay pride people routinely can't get a permit from the mayor's office to have a parade because they are dangerous, but the Movement Against Illegal Immigration was allowed to hold a demonstration on Friday. Then there are stories like this.

Yeah, I know. New York isn't a great place to be Ecuadorean either.

Walking into the Metro yesterday, the rush of air in the doorway blew my hat (not my fur hat) off my head and out the two sets of doors where it was stopped by a kind passerby. It wasn't until I was on the train and had traveled several stops that I looked at my hat and saw how dirty it was. I was cold the rest of the day because I just could not put it back on my head without washing it. Teach me to leave my big fur hat at home on a cold day.