Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Ticker(tape) Shock

I've been watching the NY Giants' tickertape parade up Broadway while waiting to go out and vote this afternoon, and I've been struck by a few things.

Mostly, how classy and nice the Giants organization seems by comparison to other NY sports organizations the Skankees oops did I say that out loud well it's no secret.

For one thing, the footballers didn't take their victory for granted the way the Wankees do: the fetid orcs from the Bronx and their Dark Lord Sauronbrenner are sore winners, and you can't even IMAGINE what they're like when they lose. And Boston too was arrogant and self-entitled, and hence deserved to get flattened.

Today, in the parade, Giants were jumping off their floats as they sailed up Broadway and mingling with the delirious fans alongside, slapping high fives, then jogging blocks to jump back aboard the float, everybody just tickled pink. Or blue.

Fans would fling them T-shirts and caps, like Mardi Gras in reverse, and the players would sign happily and toss them back. Sometimes the cops walking alongside the floats would actually hand-deliver the shirts and caps, and once signed, bring them back to the owners. (I do believe one Giant was even tossing Mardi Gras beads to the crowd, and plenty of footballs went flying too. Awesome.)

It was a pleasure to watch, and all the commentators said they'd never seen anything like it. Of course, had my Mets won the 2000 Subway Series, or indeed any other since, I like to think they would have been as into it and having as much fun with it as the Giants.

Oh, and all the family stories: the team owners, the Manning boys. Really charming.

And a pleasant change from the baseball ick now going on in Washington.

I'm not a bandwagoner, and I really do loathe football, except for those two or three amazing moments per game when stuff actually happens, so I won't be a fan of the game anytime soon. But the boys in blue have made New Yorkers very happy, and I'm nothing if not a New Yorker.

Order has been restored to the universe: New York rules. Suck on THAT, Boston!


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