I cut my finger on Monday, defrosting the refrigerator. Today I took off the Band-Aid. I’m in a hotel in Philadelphia. In a sentimental mood, I walked down Chestnut Street to independence hall, in order to gaze fondly upon the Liberty Bell. Which I have always loved. Moments after I entered the Liberty Bell pavilion, I was aware that blood was gushing from my finger. It was like a Monty Python sketch. Just a fountain of pulsing plasma. Fortunately, as ever, the park service was on the case. And I was hauled off into some sort of secret back room where I was administered with Band-Aids and antiseptic gauze pads. But I was aware that there were big drops of my blood leading from the entrance of the Liberty Bell pavilion to the door to the secret chamber. It would have been funny if it were not quite so grotesque. “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of transsexuals. “ -Thomas Jefferson