Although I proclaimed that I was not attending any Christmas parties, I don't think I violated that edict by dropping in on Edison Farrow's weekly martini night, this week on the roof of Cafeteria. It was 10 PM, 72 degrees, and a balmy wind blew from the north.

Good thing, too; because I brought up all the problems Cafeteria had with The City, it's ruinous delaying of it's opening, and how the superb rooftop seemed under used. Edison told me that The City let them open the roof, erect an elegant setting and then told them they couldn't serve liquor, food, or play music. What were they thinking; a meditation garden?

Once again, the outrage from a city where drinking is not just a God-given right, but a duty, together with ample legal pressure, removed the ban on alcohol but still restricted use of the roof. So I thought it genius that Edison convinced the Gay Mens' Choir to perform, and I was truly impressed. Not only by their talent, but the idea that you can't regulate someone singing just as it is not any government's right to limit dancing. I offered my idea that City Hall be burned to the ground with it's occupants inside (a bit draconian I admit, but an idea who's time had come). Edison, ever the cautious diplomat, smiled.