The Hunky Gynecologist

Posted by jdg | 10:34 AM

Dr. Haddad, you are, without a doubt, a very hunky gynecologist. Between your flowing locks, your penetrating stare, your confident stance, and your ability to wear pink without compromising your rugged manliness, I'd have to say you get my vote as the hunkiest gynecologist in the metro area. None of these things particularly make me want you anywhere in the vicinity of my wife's vagina though, bro.

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Our alma mater. A place where some of the finest young minds in the world come together to grapple with the most challenging legal issues of our day. And, you know, apparently learn how to properly spell the word "judgment."

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Zoom/Wide, Feral New Orleans

Posted by jdg | 10:36 AM

Yeah, I could have gone around New Orleans only looking for all of this kind of stuff. The climate and the lingering legacy of Katrina mean there's plenty of "feral" architecture. But what amazed me about New Orleans (as a Detroiter) is that when you pan back from this sort of thing, it's hard not to include someone working to make the city better. Like here, where a group of workers were rehabbing what they told me was a community center for a non profit:

Riding a bike all around the city, I was so impressed by the sounds of hammers and power saws everywhere I went, even in some of the worst areas, where the sounds of rehabbing buildings mingled with the calls of wild roosters.

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A girl and her bike. . .

Posted by jdg | 12:04 PM

What's the saying, "like a fish to water?" Indeed. She took to that thing like a Portland hipster to his fixie. Within an hour of learning she was riding it all the way around the park. Over the weekend she rode it all the way down to the riverfront (luckily, we have a below-grade, mile-long trail that connects our neighborhood to the river without crossing any streets).

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The Book Mountains

Posted by jdg | 9:47 AM

Of all the pictures I took when I went back into the book depository after three years, I think this is the only one I want to share. For scale, the brown paint on those columns goes up to about six or seven feet. I would estimate that pile of books and paper to be nine feet high in places. There was a stream running through this part of the building while we were there, and I'm not just using that word casually: it actually seemed to be moving towards that door in the distance marked exit. There was almost a sense of what was going on there as a geological process, from the rusting metal to the breakdown of wood and pulp into something else entirely, all because of the water. It struck me, standing here on this spot, that this was like some absurd landscape painting. What were those piles of "dirt"? What would all this look like in ten more years? Digging into that pile of books and paper, it didn't take long to find reams of paper and notebooks that seemed salvageable, even after two decades of neglect. Most of it was blank white paper like you might use in an art class. What a waste.

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Prairie Dog

Posted by jdg | 10:47 AM |

We saw this dog outside one of those infamous Detroit houses alone on its block, in the middle of one of the city's biggest stretches of urban prairie. Although it's a little hard to tell from the photo, he was HUGE, and he was gnawing on some fresh beast that he'd killed himself. Rabbit? Rottweiler? Whatever it was, there wasn't much left.

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