discarded lies: monday, march 27, 2017 1:36 pm zst
people in glass houses sink ships
daily archive: 03/13/2006
guest author: Franco CBI in Discarded Lies - Hyperlinkopotamus:
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guest author: Franco CBI in Discarded Lies - Hyperlinkopotamus:
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zorkmidden in Discarded Lies:
The way of the Balkans
Another European butcher is dead. After starting a blood bath that lasted ten years and left hundreds of thousands dead and millions homeless, Slobodan Milosevic died in his prison cell, quietly, of a heart attack. How did he obtain the antibiotics that killed him? I don't really care. I do regret that he didn't live to hear a guilty verdict but at least he didn't have a hero's death, he died in jail and his name will forever be associated with Srebrenica and massacres and mass graves. And for what? Bosnia is now a divided country run by five presidents, two prime ministers and a host of international agencies. Unless people think it's a good thing to have ethnically segregated neighborhoods, schools and police forces.

His family wants a state funeral but I doubt that will happen. He'll still be honored, I'm sure; for many Serbians, Milosevic is a hero who defended his country from outsiders trying to break it apart, a warrior who stood up to America.

All I can say is I hope men like Slobo and his gang of murderers never come around again but I don't believe that they won't. This is the Balkans after all.
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guest author: marine momma in Discarded Lies - Hyperlinkopotamus:
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zorkmidden in Discarded Lies:
The art of the gas chamber
Santiago Sierra is a Spanish artist who wants to give people "a sense of the Holocaust". Mr Sierra held an art exhibit/gassing session on Sunday, in Cologne, Germany, where he pumped hoses from the exhaust pipes of six parked cars into a synagogue and visitors were let in with gas masks. Two hundred people lined up for the experience.

Holocaust Remembrance: Artist Turns Synagogue Into Gas Chamber. The words tasteless and degrading don't even begin to describe this "art".
The Central Council of Jews in Germany called the project a scandal and said it was hurting efforts to keep younger German generations aware of the crimes of the Nazis. Its general secretary Stephan J. Kramer said: "Anyone who thinks it's art to simulate a 'gas chamber' via highly toxic car exhaust fumes, and in a former synagogue at that, in an attempt to convey supposed authenticity, is hurting not just the dignity of the victims but also that of the Jewish community. This has absolutely nothing to do with a culture of remembrance."

Pulheim, which uses the synagogue as an occasional exhibition center, commissioned Sierra to undertake an art project of his choice there and defended his work on Monday.

City official Angelika Schallenberg said she had been impressed by Sierra's treatment of difficult issues in the past. "You can't impose compromise on art," she told SPIEGEL ONLINE, adding that the project would be continued despite the criticism. "The artist is making a statement, not I. He must be allowed to make a statement and convey it without any distortion. I don't engage in censorship. The artist thinks what he thinks," she said.
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evariste in Discarded Lies:
China's people, murdered in the womb
More appalling state crimes against individual reproductive freedom in China:
Through the year, more than 7,000 people were forcibly sterilised in Shandong province. The sterilisations were denounced by a blind activist, Chen Guangcheng, who was placed under house arrest after he charged the local authorities with carrying out the inhumane practice.

Li Juan, a 24-year-old peasant, who lives near Linyi, said last week that she had been forced to abort her second child, a girl, in February, just two days before the baby was due.
Imagine that; 7,000 people forcibly sterilized. Not because they might pass on bad genes, but because Communism hates human life. A baby girl, murdered in her mother's womb two days before she could be born. Argh!

The reward of the blind activist who exposed the 7,000 forced sterilizations? Months of house arrest, followed by a police beating and being arrested.
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guest author: papijoe in Discarded Lies:
Part XVII: Psyche's Tale
"When I found you at the hospital you were already delirious and talking...sometimes shouting. You mentioned different people by name, some of the names were rather odd. And you talked about the Hoshen. I knew I had to get you out of there.

It took a while for the arrangements to be made, so I got you a private room and I tried to keep contact with the staff to a minimum. And I have to admit, I was fascinated by the story that emerged from your, uh, ramblings.

Just before you left for the retreat I sent Arcy PGP encrypted email telling her what the situation was and asking for advice. She seemed a little confused, I don't think she knew all of the details herself, but she said she would talk to her people and get back to me as soon as possible. In half an hour your phone rang. It was Arcy and there was another nice British gentleman on the line who apologized for introducing himself only as a friend of yours. They asked me lots of questions and were very concerned about you. It seems like at the end of the conversation they were satisfied that you were in good hands.

What I didn't discuss with them was my growing resolve to find the Hoshen stone if it was still in Salonika. Maybe the reason I've always enjoyed puzzles and problem solving games is that they gave me the artificial sense that something in this life can be figured out. History, especially for someone from Salonika, is a frustrating enigma. The Greeks have had their labyrinths and the Turks their Oriental tales of treasure troves revealed by secret words. I never thought the Jews had any similar mysteries, but that was all about to change.

I'll spare you the detailed explanation of my research, but I found myself going as far back as the Spanish and Portuguese Sephardic communities before the expulsion of 1492. There was a recurring reference to "Etz Chaim" or the Tree of Life. It was a popular name for Sephardic synagogues and there was later a Jewish relief organization by that name. I soon suspected that there was also a connection to what is known as Kabbalah. The word itself means "tradition" or "that which is received", and seems to refer to the oral transmitting of a school of Jewish mysticism that may go back to the Biblical patriarchs. In Kabbalah, the "Tree of Life" is a model of the supra-sensible universe, the Ten Sephirot. They are considered the spiritual foundation of the physical world. I was sure that some of the historical references had other esoteric meanings, so I began to read everything I could find on the Kabbalah. I got bogged down in the Zohar but I made better progress reading about the lives of the famous Kabbalists, like Moses Cordovero, Joseph Caro, and Isaac Luria. Through their histories and writings the concept of the Sephirot or Divine Attributes became clearer. The mystical practice of manipulating the Hebrew letters from Scripture or "tzeruf" had a lot of appeal for me and I promised myself I'd look into it further once all this was over.

By this point I was sure that references to Etz Chaim were significant. After the apostasy of Shabbetai Zevi, there was both a Talmudic backlash against Kabbalists, and a greater degree of secrecy and clannishness among the Kabbalists themselves. Soon a reference to Pardes Rimmonin or the Pomegranate Orchard began to crop up with greater frequency. This is a common Kabbalistic allegory, but it was almost certainly being used as a code word for something. Over the centuries there seemed to be a lineage of Kabbalist rabbis that whispered of a secret garden. But in the same span of time the Jews in Salonika prospered and among the old Sephardic families there arose an aristocracy. My Beneveniste ancestors were included, but first among equals were the Allatinis. Their flour mills were the source of their fortune. The family seems to have come to a historic crossroads after the 1876 war with Russia that had so many disastrous consequences for the Ottoman empire. Salonika was flooded with Jewish refugees. The "Etz Chaim" society in conjunction with the Sephardic congregations raised funds to support the refugees. But the bulk of the relief came from some of the new secular Jewish organizations like Il Avenir and most prominently the Alliance Israelite committee. Dr Moise Allatini was the President. But other description of the title sound positively Masonic: "the minister and vizier, master cavalier Dr. Moshe Allatini"

This group seemed to initially have excellent relations with the religious community. I came across a letter of a Rabbi Kovo, praising Dr Allatini and the Alliance in terms that, if I wasn't sure were veiled Kabbalist credentials, would be absurdly sycophantic. He also goes on to mention the society reaching out to the "tree of life", meaning the religious relief organization. Most of the prominent rabbis were supporters of the Alliance including Chief Rabbi Avraham Gatinio. But when Rabbi Gatinio died, Rabbi Shmu'el Arditi was appointed. He become embroiled in a power struggle, with the Alliance and Dr Allatini, over a more democratic administration of the community. As this would greatly reduce the power of the rabbis, the Chief Rabbi opposed it bitterly. Allatini's progressive faction managed to get the Chief Rabbi fired, despite his popularity with the poor traditional Jews. The rabbis then appealed to rabbinical and imperial officials Constantinople who then got Rabbi Arditi re-instated. After more Machiavellian maneuvering on Allatini's part, Rabbi Arditi had to settle for keeping his post, but conceding everything else to Allatini's progressives. This caused a deep schism in the Jewish community between the wealthy progressive Jews, many of which, like Allatini were considered foreigners, and the poorer traditional Sephardic community. And it was the among these representatives of an older Salonika that believed that a higher authority was invoked in this dispute. For there had long been a traditional belief that whenever a wealthy man offended a rabbi, he would die within twelve months time. And before a year had passed, Dr Moishe Allatini, as well as fellow prominent progressives Dr Becher Frances and Shu'al Modiano had passed away. And while any record of the funeral arrangements would have been destroyed in the great Salonika fire years later, oral tradition says all three were eulogized quite movingly by Chief Rabbi Shmu'el Arditi.

This power struggle wouldn't have been important to my research if I didn't think that sometime in the honeymoon period between the more religious "Etz Chaim" group and the progressives, the Hoshen stone was transferred to the custody of Dr Allatini. During this time of warm relations the case wouldn't have been hard to make. The city was chaotic and often subject to the brigandry of first the janissaries and later Albanian irregulars, not to mention prone to apocalyptic fires. On the other hand the Allatini estate, with footman armed with both pistols and daggers, was considered so safe that when Pasha Hamid was deposed, he sought refuge there outside the city walls.

There is also the apparent lack of any references to the stone after Dr Allatini's death. This could be explained by the departure of the remaining Allatini's for Italy in 1911 and the great fire, but I could find nothing to suggest that Moise's descendants had inherited it, or that it had been returned to the rabbinical community. It just seems to have disappeared.

So I was left with nothing more than a hunch, and dove back into the Kabbala to look for a fresh clue to the jewel's whereabouts. Don't think that while all this was going on I had forgotten about you. Usually I'd visit at lunch and early evening. I even tried doing my research by your bedside, hoping that your delirious rambling would reveal some clue. But your subconscious was concerned with many other subjects, more than a few quite amusing if at times embarrassing. And no, I won't tell you what you said. In any case I gave up on those study sessions.

I knew I had a small window of opportunity to solve the puzzle. Your friends allowed me to use your phone to consult with Arcy and give them updates on your recovery. I went back to the old texts again to find the key that would unlock the secrets of Etz Chaim and the Alliance Israelite. I became like a Kabbalist scholar myself in my study habits. I alternated between the Kabbalistic works and the historical texts for the next break in the story.

It came from an unexpected source. A marginally related Google search turned up previously unpublished article from a little known French occultist named Guy Chabon. He had been a high degree Mason that followed some better known figures into a renegade lodge which emphasized the craft's roots in the mysteries of Hermes Trismigethus, the alchemy of Paracelsus, the ecstatic meditation of the Melevi dervishes and of course the Kabbala. He had apparently finagled his way into a ceremony held at the lavish estate of the Allatinis. Having studied the blueprints and visited the areas accessible to the public, I was fairly certain it was held in the room reserved for worship on the Sabbath. But in Chabon's description, the interior was entirely covered by gold leaf and the entrance was flanked by two brass columns. Chabon gave these an Masonic significance, but it was clearly first and foremost a replica of Solomon's temple. Both the columns and the gold have long since been removed.

The rest of the article was more Masonic propaganda that centered around further descriptions of the room. Not being a Hebrew speaker, he seemed to miss the the significance of the ceremony itself. But if his claim of the presence of a Bektashi sheik and an elderly monk from Athos among others is to be believed, then this would suggest it wasn't an ordinary Shabbos service. That's when I began to make arrangements, on the pretext of an imaginary grant proposal, to get unlimited access to the Villa Allatini.

But I still had no idea what I was looking for. At one particularly low point I was trying to grasp some of the practices around the Hebrew language. I was beating myself up for the thousandth time for not having a better working knowledge of Hebrew. I was studying a shivviti, which was a graphic chart of designs composed of Hebrew writing that Kabbalah acolytes meditated on. At a few points I had a sense that I was on the verge of a breakthrough. A glimmer of understanding would surface and then the thought process would collapse under a burden of fatigue and frustration. Finally I just stared at the letters on the page until my eyes stung. I closed them and the large characters floated before my mind's eye, now searing white instead of black, shimmering like flame.

As I saw the burning letters it was like being suddenly confronted with a living thing. Although at that point I seemed to be free of my body and gravity, there was a sense of coursing power and something like the sound of wind.

Abruptly that all changed and I was enveloped in a memory. It was my school trip to the Villa Allatini. Although I've been there several times since, it was apparently the first and last time I really paid attention to the surroundings. We were in the garden outside I had been looking at a statue of a chariot that Mr Polymeris had explained was Apollo's. Here my awareness bifurcated. As I child I received and believed the information my principal was giving me, but in the present I had the realization that it was actually a representation of the Merkaba, or the chariot of fire that Ezekiel saw and Kabbalists meditated on. Then Kostas Liacopolis started teasing me about something silly I had said in class the day before and I started crying. Mr Polymeris yelled at him and told me to never mind. To distract me he led me by the hand to another part of the garden. Under a tree was a bronze plaque with a scene from the Garden of Eden. My older self noticed that the tree was a pomegranate. Mr Polymeris started quizzing me on the story of Genesis, which I was never taught at home and never paid much attention to the few times I had been to church. Consequently I answered almost none of his questions, but he didn't get cross. My older self found the figure of Adam strange. He stood somewhat stiffly within a vaguely defined circle, a bit like the famous Da Vinci picture but with the arms lowered and slightly extended away from the body. In contrast, Eve was in a much more natural if dramatic pose. The memory faded and I was again staring at the black letters on the page.

I went home for a quick nap, shower and cup of Turkish coffee to brace me for the appointment I had been dreading. After an excruciating meeting with the Prefect Governor punctuated with promises of political benefits I could never deliver on, he sent me to his Operations department to sign out a set of keys.

I went to my office to nap for the rest of the day on the old couch. There was a nagging sense that I was operating on instincts that I couldn't comprehend. Part of my rational mind was in a panic at the way I seemed to sleepwalk to the Villa and demanded to be briefed on the operational plans but there didn't seem to be any.

I checked in with the security guard inside who was quite upset at being distracted from his crossword puzzle, sports section, or whatever he was reading. I told him I would be out in the garden. The plaque wasn't hard to find, despite the fact that everything looked smaller and more compact than I remembered. I ran my hands over the patina crusted surface, trying to conceive of what I was supposed to do. I studied every detail hoping some clue would come to mind. I even tried remembering all the details of the Creation story, the exoteric version Mr Polymeris tried to teach me and the Kabbalistic exigences that I read recently. Suddenly I wanted to cry. Here I was in the same damn garden, being tormented, a helpless member of a tour I didn't understand. Why me? It was then I noticed that the expression of Eve seemed to reflect my agony. I saw that the reason she gave the impression of being aloof from the figure of Adam was both her expression of longing and frustration and her gaze that was directed at a small pomegranate that hung from a tree behind Adam. She was inclined to it but frozen in the beginning of a posture of reaching up. Reflexively I touched the tiny protuberance. With a grating pop the figure of Adam sprung out from the plaque, spraying out small chips of copper oxide. My heart was pounding and as I tugged desperately on it I became aware that I was crying in earnest. It wouldn't move! I tried to calm myself and tried turning it counter-clockwise to see if it would unscrew. I was rewarded with a click and ringing echo as it moved. Above Adam's head three Hebrew letters that spelled Keter were illuminated. I couldn't tell if they reflected light or somehow shone from within. I turned it again and the four letters for Hokmah appeared. I tried turning it back and this time I succeeded at moving it counter clockwise. Turning the figure revealed the names of all ten of the Sephirot in a particular order of descent and right to left with Malkut last and a neutral position at the top.

I stared at the device for a while trying to grasp what was at least at first like a combination lock. Clearly starting from the neutral position, I could ascend or descend depending one whether one choose to go clockwise or counterclockwise. And it was probably safe to say that returning to the neutral point was like a reset.

The first question you have to ask is how much a puzzle wants to be solved. Certainly there are cyphers that try to forbid all that don't know the code, locks that resist those who don't have the key. But these have inherent weaknesses that can actually make a puzzle comparatively more difficult to overcome, if only because of its ability to confound the hopeful with the promise of a solution. I can't really describe completely the approach I took, because it wasn't a linear process, but a series of them occurring in parallel. This faculty had operated before in both my studies and in my particular hobbies, but the study of Kabbala and particularly the experience of "tzeruf" or the permutation of the letters amplified this. I started with, in no specific order, a sense of awe at the design of the device and the mystery it represented, a growing panicked feeling that I was losing a race with time, and my familiar insatiable craving for the solution.

I choose to ascend based on the hint provided by the setting. The first of the Sephirot in ascending order was Shekinah but its symbol was often the Orchard or Garden. Picturing the Tree of Life the next step was a freebie, the only route was to Yesod. Yet that transition itself as a precursor to the next undecided move already opened two channels of thought. First how to determine choice of direction from the fixed circular sequence of the Sephirot. The Tree of Life allows a number of routes in the climb, but it wasn't apparent how to select a path using the device. Simultaneously there was an inner opening up and out and I had an awareness of transition from one interior state to another.

Here any attempt at narrative fails and the mind can't follow. I experienced what the Kabbala mystics described as their travels from one cosmic sphere of the Sephirot to another, and also the *mastin* or "witholders" that guarded each realm with terror distraction and a host of other weapons. Yet when vanquished, they offered clues to the direction of the ascent. It may be possible to produce the epic that would describe my ascent, but I came away with the firm conviction that to do so wouldn't be wise. And the goal of the ascent, the indescribable prize made the release of the device an shabby anticlimax.

Yet I didn't lose site of the temporal task, it was intimately connected with the metaphysical journey. Here my Greek legacy of grounded abstraction served well. The device was easily extracted. I had suspected that the jewel itself wasn't in the plaque, but that the whole locking assembly would now serve as a key. I wrapped it in a silk scarf to protect the complex array of rods and levers that were now exposed in the back of the device and hid it in my backpack. I hurried to the villa.

After startling the guard again I made my way to the temple room in the basement. I had also bought a small but powerful halogen worklight which I set up as close as the cord would allow to where I believed the tabernacle to have been. Again, I was working on a hunch, but my instincts were becoming increasingly more accurate. I soon found a circular feature that corresponded to the rough size of the device. It seemed to be capped electrical or gas fixture at about the level of my shoulders about the tabernacle that had been painted over. I scoured around its circumference with a small utility knife then tried prying it away with a screwdriver. After taking the skin off a few of my knuckles I finally realized that the bump in the center was the head of a fastening bolt, which I was able to remove after more hacking chipping and donating of epidermis. When it finally fell away it revealed a surprising clean interface for the device, which I wasted no time in inserting. It seated itself with a satisfying click and part of the face of the device inside his stance retracted to reveal something like a grating. Here all inspiration and intuition failed me. I found to my further dismay that the device didn't turn as it had previously done.

In my frustration I was muttering to myself that I was sure the first stage in the descent would start with Binah, or understanding for a number of reasons when the letters for that attribute began to show not steadily as it did before, but flashing on and off. I then tried pronouncing Hokmah to test if it was triggered by sound, but the flickering continued. After much trial and error I realized I was stuck and began to ponder what need to happen before I could move on. And I did discover the means for moving on. I'll say that it did involve the spoken word and the practice of "tzeruf" but knowing what I know now, the rest isn't knowledge to be divulged lightly, so I'll leave it at that. I will say that once the proper recitation was completed for each level, the letters for that level would shine steadily andthe next in the sequence began to flash, so there was no need to guess at the next step. The challenge occurred within the each Sephirot and everytime it was a great and unique labor. And each had a *mastin* but their aspect in descent was different from the ascent.

When the final syllable of the recitation of Shekinah was uttered, a panel sprung from the wall and with a shriek of metal and cracking of paint. That's when the man with the gun stood up from his hiding place."
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evariste in Discarded Lies:
The UK: A Rapist's Paradise
“Take it easy on rapists”, UK judges told

The UK's sentencing guidelines council is recommending that the one in a thousand rapists that gets caught and convicted be sentenced to 15% less jail time. Possible circumstances that could lead to lenient sentences include "sexual familiarity". In other words, date rapists get off scot-free.

In fact, most convicted UK rapists already only spend half their average 7-year, four-month sentence in prison, and are then paroled. That's 44 months, or only 1,320 days of imprisonment per convicted rapist; they now suggest cutting it by 15%, to 1122 days.

To update the previous entry's terrible calculus: whenever 715 women are raped in the UK, only one rapist is punished, with an average time spent in jail of only 1,320 days.

The total penalty per rape is 44 hours and 18 minutes in jail. They now want to reduce this to 36 hours and 40 minutes. When women are guaranteed to be unarmed (gun ownership is illegal in the UK) and you only have a 1-in-715 chance of ever going to jail for it, why not rape?

Conclusion: the UK is a rapist's paradise.
Controversially, the council will also set out grounds where 'mitigating circumstances' will be taken into account. They are expected to include cases involving 'sexual familiarity' between rapist and victim before the attack.That could mean a woman and a man becoming intimate with the woman later refusing full sex, only to be overpowered. Such 'date rapes', where victims know their attacker, are the most common form of rape.
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joem in Bloggie Beit Midrash:
תענית אסתר / פורים
The day before Purim is a fast day, called Ta'anit Esther (The Fast of Esther). This is to commemorate the fast imposed (and undertaken) by Queen Esther, as it says לך כנוס את כל היהודים הנמצאים בשושן וצומו עלי וכו׳ - lech k'nos et kol ha-Yehudim ha-nimtz'im b'Shushan v'tzumu alai .., "Go, gather together all the Jews to be found in Shushan and fast for me ..". 1
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guest author: M-Max in Discarded Lies:
Max's New Jersey - The Amusement Parks
Amusement and theme parks have played a big role in the popular culture of New Jersey for the past 100 years. This was because they served as getaways (for the day or for the week, in summer) for not one, but two metropolitan areas – New York and Philadelphia. Even today, people from all over the state and the Northeast Corridor come to Six Flags Great Adventure, which is conveniently located midway between the two big cities. However, in the interest of not taking up too much of Bloggie’s valuable space, Max will reminisce about three of the amusement parks about which more folklore and popular culture was generated, both past and present. Then I will briefly mention list some other major ones - for which, I might add, I get no renumeration from the NJ State Department of Tourism… :-(

Come On Over! – Sitting just over the George Washington Bridge from New York City, Palisades Amusement Park was a staple of recreation for New Jerseyans and New Yorkers for 70 years.

palisades.png


Over that time, the park had almost 60 different roller coasters, as it was for a long time owned by Europeans who used the park to test new rides from Europe to see their compatibility for the tastes of the American market. It also claimed to have the world’s largest saltwater pool, and starting in 1961, the “Little Miss America” pageant, for girls between the ages of 5 and 10.

Palisades Amusement Park actually almost died in the early 1960s, but was given new life by, of all things, a commercial jingle. Sung by a gentleman named Steve Clayton and titled Come On Over!, the commercial with the jingle was frequently heard on New York television for 6 years, and is still one of the most memorable jingles in the history of advertising.

Even before that, though, the park was immortalized in a 1962 novelty song, a top 10 billboard hit in the USA, sung by Freddy “Boom-Boom” Cannon, and written by none other than Chuck “The Gong Show” Barris, simply called Palisades Park.

The park closed in September 1971, as larger theme parks, especially in Florida, seemed to make the old fashioned ones obsolete, and the towns on which the park sat – Fort Lee and Cliffside Park – saw greater tax revenue in building condominiums, and thus rezoned the land.

Those Wildwood Days! – Located near New Jersey’s southern tip (to answer the famous NJ question – Exit 4 of the Garden State Parkway), Wildwood, with it’s 2.5 miles of boardwalks, piers and amusement parks (operated by a company called Morey's Piers ), not only is the stuff of nostalgia, but lives on today bigger and better than ever, with 3.5 million visitors per year, and a new convention center, designed to compete with Atlantic City’s.

balloonrace.png


Whereas New Yorkers and North Jerseyans would vacation farther north along the Jersey Shore, such as Asbury Park, Seaside Heights, and Atlantic Highlands, Wildwood was a magnet for working and middle-class people from Philadelphia, especially Italian-Americans. As opposed to the more chi-chi resorts located at Cape May, this was and is the resort with mostly motels instead of hotels, and a lot of diners and pancake houses. Fine dining here is, not surprisingly heavy on the Italian. In the late ‘50s and early ‘60s, the teen pop idols who came out of Philadelphia, such as Bobby Rydell (who sings the song “Those Wildwood Days” when you click the above links), and Fabian (the teen idol singer, not the Socialists), found that it was a must to play the clubs here.

And as many Canadians will tell you, it was (and still is) a summer playground for French Canadians. Many of the restaurants have menus in both French and English, and more than a few young French and French Canadians put their linguistic skills to work during the summer, acting as bellhops and waiters.


Seaside Heights – located in Ocean County, the boardwalk here, about one mile long, and home to two large amusement parks and a water park, are the weekend hangout for many Northern New Jersey families, for whom it is about a 1-1/2 hour drive to get here (yeah, if you leave at 4 AM!). The boardwalk is not as long as Wildwood’s, being about one mile in length, nor has there been any pop song written about it.

loopcoaster.png


Above is the Loop Coaster at Funtown Pier.

However, since most of NJ’s population lives in the North and Central parts of the state, this is the one that all the people will tell you they either go to for the day, or for the week when they have their summer rental.

Now, this is not the exhaustive list, so let me give you the websites of some other amusement parks, in case you find yourself in New Jersey with your kids (or trying to be a kid):

Keansburg Amusement Park – located in Keansburg, a working class Monmouth County shore town, this is only about 30 minutes from Staten Island and perhaps an hour from Brooklyn.

Six Flags Great Adventure – Now Six Flags is a big chain, and they really don’t need my publicity, but this is the biggest amusement park in the State. And perhaps Ed Abu has a story about his visit here. (Because my visit here was completely uneventful.)

Steel Pier, Atlantic City – where you can go after you lose enough money gambling.

Gillian's Amusement Pier, Ocean City – That is, of course, OUR Ocean City, not the more famous one in Maryland…..Ocean City was where both Philadelphians and New Yorkers went….which makes for some interesting times in summer when the Phillies are playing the Mets.

So, do you have an interesting story about your trips to these places? Did you go to these growing up?
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