- What toxic chemicals a particular industrial facility is using
- How much is being released into the environment
- Whether the facility is recycling or treating any of the toxic chemical waste, or burning any of it for energy recovery
- Whether a facility initiated any pollution prevention activities in the most recent calendar year
Tag Archives: E-mail I received
A dolphin that swam into an unlikely spot Friday—Brooklyn’s Gowanus Canal—later died, authorities said.
As onlookers gaped at the surprising sight, the NYPD Harbor and Emergency Service Units and marine-mammal experts from Long Island’s Riverhead Foundation observed the creature for several hours near Union and Nevins streets.
Officials had planned to wait until high tide at 7:10 p.m. to see if the dolphin could free itself or proceed with a rescue when the tide receded Saturday morning. But the dolphin died early Friday evening, said Julika Wocial, the Riverhead Foundation’s rescue program supervisor. Its body will be removed likely on Saturday, and an examination will be performed by the Foundation to determine the cause of death. The creature appeared to be a common dolphin of adult age and about 6 to 7 feet long, Ms. Wocial said.
It was unclear whether the animal had been sick. But Ms. Wocial said the animal had been exhibiting “concerning behavior.”
“Common dolphins are usually seen in larger groups,” Ms. Wocial said. “This animal is by itself, and it is in the area where we normally wouldn’t see them.”
For much of Friday afternoon, the dolphin remained at the western edge of the canal near Bond Street, as officials weighed the risks of taking action, Ms. Wocial said.
Every few seconds, the creature’s head or dorsal fin would poke through the murky waters, creating ripples and drawing murmurs from onlookers, who stood in the cold with cameras.
Once a major transportation route, the canal was designated a Superfund cleanup site in 2010 by the Environmental Protection Agency, which called it “one of the nation’s most extensively contaminated water bodies.”
Some observers lamented that officials hadn’t rescued the animal and were sad about its death.
“It’s not clean water there,” said Linda Mariano, the 69-year-old co-founder of Friends and Residents of Greater Gowanus, a group that supports the area’s Superfund status. “It’s sad….I don’t know why it wasn’t smart enough to get out of there.”
Another creature found its way to the Gowanus Canal back in 2007, also with an unhappy ending. A 12-foot minke whale—nicknamed “Sludgie” because it appeared to be covered in an oily substance—spent two days swimming near the canal’s mouth then but died before rescuers could coax it to safety.
10 years ago the USA had Steve Jobs, Bob Hope and Johnny Cash ….
Now they have no Jobs, no Hope and no Cash
Ladies toilets – so very funny – probably cus it is so true……..
When you have to visit a public toilet, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it’s your turn, you check for feet under the cubicle doors.
Every cubicle is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle. You get in to find the door won’t latch. It doesn’t matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants!
The dispenser for the modern ‘seat covers’ (invented by someone’s Mum, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook, if there was one, so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mum would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!) down with your pants and assume ‘The Stance.’
In this position, your aging, toneless, thigh muscles begin to shake. You’d love to sit down, but having not taken time to wipe the seat or to lay toilet paper on it, you hold ‘The Stance.’
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.
In your mind, you can hear your mother’s voice saying, ‘Dear, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!’ Your thighs shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday – the one that’s still in your bag (the bag around your neck, that now you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do, so you crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It’s still smaller than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn’t work.
The door hits your bag, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest and you and your bag topple backward against the tank of the toilet.
‘Occupied!’ you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, while losing your footing altogether and sliding down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it’s too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper – not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.
You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because you’re certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, ‘You just don’t KNOW what kind of diseases you could get’
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl and spraying a fine mist of water that covers your bum and runs down your legs and into your shoes.
The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force and you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You’re soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You’re exhausted. You try to wipe with a sweet wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You can’t figure out how to operate the taps with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it?)
You yank the paper from your shoe, plonk it in the woman’s hand and tell her warmly, ‘Here, you just might need this.’
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men’s toilet. Annoyed, he asks, ‘What took you so long and why is your bag hanging around your neck?’
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with any public toilets. It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers that other commonly asked question about why women go to the toilets in pairs. It’s so the other girl can hold the door, hang onto your bag and hand you Kleenex under the door.
This HAD to be written by a woman! No one else could describe it so accurately.
Send this to all women that need a good laugh and to the boys to make them understand that being a girl is not all that easy!
A Friend Is Like A Good Bra…
Hard to Find
Always Lifts You Up
Never Lets You Down or Leaves You Hanging
And Is Always Close To Your Heart!!!
Share this with a friend!
I Just Did!