OK, I’m frankly not a big fan of “cute” things; puppy dogs, baby dolls, anything that makes people scrunch up their face and go “awwwwww”—gag me.  But I know that some of you have that whole “sentimentality” defect going on.  So with that in mind, I bring you this saccharine-coated story—don’t let it be said that I don’t have a heart.  Or at least pretend to have one when it gets me play.

Yesterday morning, at approximately 10:50 AM, the Binghamton Fire Department rescued a dog from the Susqehanna River.  The dog’s owner had been walking him when he decided to follow a flock of seagulls into the water–the dog, not the owner.  (BTW, I’m a much bigger fan of cats.  A cat would NOT have followed a flock of seagulls into an icy river.  Cats are smarter.  And bitchier.  Which I DEFINITELY like.)

The Binghamton Fire Department sprung into action, using a special “ice-rescue suit” to pull the dog out of the water.  OK, that part is cool.  I like that the fire department has a whole special suit just dedicated to ice rescues.  Now I know that it’s safe to go kayaking in the middle of January.

(PS, BingPop.com will not be held responsible if you get killed trying to kayak in the middle of January.  It’s called satire, putz; look it up.)

Anyway, there you are.  It’s BingPop’s “Feel Good Story of the Year”.  Hope you can wait another 365.

BTW, a few weeks ago, we heard through the grapevine that the Dept declined to rescue a cat from a tree out of concerns for the safety of its firefighters.  I actually think that’s pretty darn smart.  But because stirring the pot is just more fun than just acknowledging good policy, I asked the city’s Community Relations Director, Andrew Block, why…

“It’s Fire Department protocol to carry out practices for which it trains, and river rescues – including from frigid waters – constitute one of these practices; coincidentally, the Dept. conducted river rescue last training just a week ago. Therefore, it was within their protocol to conduct [yesterday’s] dog rescue.

By contrast, it is outside and counter to protocol to attempt dangerous practices for which the department does not train or have the necessary equipment, and tree rescues constitute just such a practice. Hence, the Department refrained from attempting to take the cat from the tree a few weeks back.

In sum, safety is our top priority, and our protocols reflect the best level of safety we are able to provide to the community.”

That’s all fine and well, but not very scandalous.  When I tell the story at cocktail parties, my version will be that Andrew Block hates cats.

Anybody who says there’s not a place to “see and be seen in Binghamton” has never been to the Wells Laing Gallery on the west side of the city.

I didn’t know what to expect when I was invited to an art opening there by a friend of mine two weeks ago.  She made sure to tell me that I had to dress well; and then she told me again.  And then she told me again.  Apparently, my normal “Seacrest-esque” jeans, graphic tee, and sports coat would not suffice.  And she dreaded that I’d ignore her warning and show up underdressed—thereby making us the pariahs of the art opening.

OK, fine.  I stuffed myself into a pair of pinstripe pants that I’d bought 6 months and 5 pounds ago.  And then hoped that nobody would notice.

When I showed up at the address on the gallery’s business card, I did a double take.  I was at a factory.  Yes, a factory.  Like remember the first Tim Burton Batman movie where the Joker fell into a vat of acid and had his face scorched off, thereby making him the bitter enemy of Bruce Wayne forever?  Yeah, that kind of factory.  Then I noticed a soft purple-blue glow from some enormous windows high above the parking lot.  And I figured that that’s where I was going.

My friend and I met up, entered through the loading dock, headed upwards in a freight elevator operated by a man that was dressed far too well to be operating a freight elevator, and emerged into what can best be described as another world.

The colors were the same I had seen—but the room was packed with people—a who’s who of Binghamton; all dressed, of course, much better than me.  The lighting was gorgeous, the liquor expensive (but not for the guests), and the design very carefully executed.  And then I learned that I wasn’t in the gallery at all.

I was in a hallway.

Yes, you see, Laing and Wells have a bit of a flair for the theatric.  And they do it very, very, very well.  The gallery wasn’t yet open, and we were all in a sort of boozy cocktail-chatter holding pattern—waiting for the dramatic tension to build.

And then came the bugs.  The show—displaying the work of Marc Dennis, a part time naturalist—was all about spring: insects, birds, and so forth—all painted with photographic precision.  And so what else would you serve as hors d’oeuvres at the opening but grasshoppers and silkworms?

I was just grateful the cater waiters weren’t carrying around broiled parakeets.

I wasn’t going to eat a grasshopper; I certainly had no interest in the taste; and I wasn’t trying to impress anybody.  But I can’t resist a good headline for the blog, so I grabbed an extra glass of champagne, held my breath, and chowed down.  Yum.  Crunchy.  Actually didn’t have much taste beyond the chutney it was soaked in.  Artist Marc Dennis later asked me if I’d had one of the “highland or lowland” grasshoppers.  Concerned that he might ask me to try the other one, I changed the subject.

Dennis, it turned out—beyond being a fantastic painter, a lecturer on Holocaust art, and a pretty charming cocktail party host—was a big advocate for insect-eating.  He quickly explained to me between conversations with the other guests that eating beef can be horrible for the environment.  Another man pulled me aside to tell me about a time he and Dennis were enjoying wine and cigars on his patio, when Dennis got up to identify every spider he could find in the vicinity.  I was hoping that the story ended with Dennis suddenly lapping one of the insects off the railing, and was disappointed when it didn’t.

After the doors to the gallery opened, we all streamed in, hungry to see the work.  The pieces themselves were quite beautiful, full of color, warmth, and an appreciation for nature—made me yearn for those occasional 50 degree days we’ve been having.  And the good news is, you can check out the show too.  The Wells Laing Gallery is open mainly by appointment.  BUT, it is open to the public on March 7th, 14th, and the 21st from 12 to 4.  As far as I know, Wells and Laing will NOT be serving insects on those dates—but who knows, maybe if you call ahead, a special treat could be waiting…

Ask for extra chutney.

UPDATE
Marc Dennis e-mailed me with a full description of… what I ate:  “The grasshoppers were steamed with lapsang suchong tea leaves, then removed from the water and seasoned with coriander, powdered ginger, and adobo. Then they were roasted for twenty minutes to crisp them and dry out their insides. Once removed from the oven they were further flavored with a pinch of salt and powdered garlic. I then sliced a cucumber into 1/4 inch thick round pieces, placed a piece of pickled ginger on top of the cucumber and then a tiny dollop of mango chutney. Each grasshopper was placed on top of the mango chutney and then covered a bit more in mango chutney. Then each of them were powdered with edible gold dust.”