josh ritter

I generally don’t care much for music videos anymore but I think I’ll give artists and directors a go over the next month. This is a 1st of June shot of Josh Ritter doing Girl in the War. Ritter is a great songwriter that's true to his work. If you hear him live you’ll know just how much he loves what he does; and just how amazed he is by his success.


The Eleven is in the midst of planning and re-planning travel details for this week. We're off to Hamilton, Ontario via Buffalo on Tuesday morning and will be dropping H. off at another Southwest gate so he can head up to Mass. We'll be seeing Leonard Cohen and heading back to the States, and D.C., on Wednesday morning. We've got to figure how to get G. to school that day: I think maybe we should kick him of the train at the station and send him on down the road.

no higher than the crown

"My momma taught me to play by the rules and respect those rules. My mother taught me, and I'm sure your mother taught you, that when you decide change the rules, middle of the game, end of the game, that is referred to as cheatin'," - Donna Brazile.

That has more meaning than just politics - 'specially around here.

t

one more wave

Harold Ickes and Roger Stone. Discuss.

There's a unbelievably good piece on Stone in this week's New Yorker. Ickes is at the forefront of the Clinton / Florida / Michigan debate and a former Clinton Administration employee. I'll do some more research but I think I'd lean more towards a blowhard, stone-cold political operative like Stone than I would a complete pinhead like Ickes. Ickes must hate that...

I guess it's my kick ass and take names belief that's slipping out. I wouldn't trust either of the motherfuckers with my groceries but at least I'd see it coming with a killer like Stone.

My french.

t.

p.s. photo via the New Yorker.

a farewell to arms

It's the 31st of May and I'm sticking to the promise I made, to myself, about staying away from current events for the whole of June. As the month comes to an end we've got the DNC meeting here in D.C. to decide the fates of Florida and Michigan. It appears they'll seat everyone and give them each half-a-vote. It the only truly compromised solution they could land upon. The facts are, they shouldn't have seated any of them. End of story. In order to appease Clinton they've done the best they can without actually affecting the race.

The lessons learned are pretty clear: Obama was naive to imagine that everyone would play by agreed-to rules. This will be something he'll carry with him through the remainder of his career. As for Clinton, she's now violating her word and there isn't anything worse you can do in politics. (Case in point: I don't actually care that Bill Clinton got involved with Monica; he pissed me off when he lied.) I fear she's forever damaging her place in the Senate and any future political leadership position. It's unfortunate because I really believe she is one of few in the Senate that could influence the chamber over the next twenty years. She may well lose any good will she's established in her eight years. 

Whatever the outcome, and I'm sure I'll catch it as I walk by newspaper machines, I'll vote for whomever the Democrats nominate.

The Cubs came back from 9-1 yesterday to win 10-9. They won their sixth straight today and are on a six-game streak. Those two sentences make me so much more relaxed than politics.

Expect tales from the Hilltop, sports, music, and crazy yarns of mass transit.

changing the method

I'm old enough to have vivid memories of The Carol Burnett Show. It was pure joy to watch Tim Conway, Vicki Lawrence, Harvey Korman, and Carol make each other lose the ability to function. I remember her monologues and the ear tug, I remember Mrs. (ah) Wiggins, I remember innumerable skits where Conway got Korman laughing so hard that he couldn’t remember any lines. I think Korman’s death is the first that affects my childhood viewing of TV. Those shows were so goddamn funny – RIP Harvey.

Along more serious lines; I’ve decided that I’ll read no news throughout June. Ripping my attention from the debates and politics of the day is unfathomable yet I decided while standing at the bus stop today that I simply can’t read the heinous poison pervading everything. From American politics to foreign relations – it’s too much. I need a serious f&^king break. Maybe I’ll tone down my rants; maybe I’ll be able to accept the commentary by everyday people that includes language I find incredibly offensive. My bookmarks and podcasts will be limited to sports, literature, etc. My mind is about to explode. Come July I’ll get back in, touch my toe to the pool, and decide whether or not I need to ruin another summer month of my life.

For the month I’ll use the Cubs to track my progress. I’ll use my music to throw out ideas; I’ll talk to everyone much more – I know, you’ve been traded into my life as the player to be named later.

I find looking at the sky, sitting on my porch, and kissing my baby to be much more important.

t

see june, see bill

The other day while I was cleaning up the kitchen after some creation, X looks over the counter at me and says, “Where does the June Cleaver in you come from?” If she’s wondering about my wipe down, tidy up, and try to keep the kitchen in order, then it’s probably my mother. I found the above picture, The June Cleaver dress from Instant Vintage, as my sexy update on the style. What a look.

The Cubs and be infuriating. They’re hanging around the best record in baseball and then go into Pittsburgh and lose the last two games of the series in the same manner: giving up a run in the bottom of the ninth and then losing in extras. They beat the Dodgers at Wrigley today.

I’ve read a lot of Bill Kristol’s op-eds since he joined the NYTimes and I’ve watched him often as a talking head. The problem I have with him is that he’s of the debate theory that if I open with the “all due respect” pre-debate then all’s well. I read his piece today and it’s a prime example of exactly what some people skate right over.

(Warning: bad language, pissy politics, and heinous opinions are coming from me. Consider the above the funny and joke-like part of today’s entry.)

Feel free to call me on taking it out of context because I’m giving you the three consecutive paragraphs I’ve chosen from his entire op-ed. If you want to read the whole thing, here you go.

“This doesn’t mean Americans are indifferent to the sacrifices of our men and women in uniform. In fact, I suspect that many of us feel so much in debt to our servicemen and women, and so much in awe of the ultimate sacrifice some of them have made and all of them are willing to make, that we worry any effort to honor them wouldn’t be commensurate with their deeds.”

“One retired general I know urges civilians to go out of their way to say thank you to servicemen and women they happen to encounter. At first I thought such a gesture might be intrusive, or awkward, or unwelcome. I was wrong. When civilians walk over to express appreciation to men and women in uniform, in airports or restaurants or the like, the recipients seem a little embarrassed — but grateful. So perhaps we all should be less shy about thanking our troops for their service.”

“The men and women in the military know their fellow citizens are grateful to them. Many of them say, though, that they’re not confident their countrymen are aware of what they’re accomplishing.”

That first paragraph is bullshit. We are totally indifferent to those sacrifices; I’m indifferent, either by choice or by shear misery – I’m not sure which. I was in the military and I have some background. Believe me, if I’m indifferent than anyone who doesn’t have a loved one or very close friend involved is way beyond indifferent. I’m as guilty as the next. The faded, junky, hollow yellow ribbon magnet on the back of your car counts for shit. The idea that “we worry any effort to honor them wouldn’t be commensurate with their deeds” makes me steam. This coming from one of the greatest supporters of this Administration; a President that refuses to either show, attend, or recognize a single returning dead military member. Not one. He hasn’t showed those that make that sacrifice any more respect than he shown any tree on his Crawford ranch. There is not an ounce of honor in either Kristol or Bush’s recognition of the dead.

The second paragraph? Nice, Kristol. I’m glad to see that you’re too goddamn shallow to think that any military member would be embarrassed to get any props from you. I smile every time anyone says thanks when I’m passing through the airport and they look at my retired AF ID card. Kristol’s thought process about the war – that it’s over there, that I’ll finally write something on Memorial Day, that maybe a little thanks and honor through my backhanded effort could be worthwhile is a questionable joke.

The third paragraph is the ultimate example of how the military is twisted into a tool for this political mission. The military doesn’t wonder “…how the public views their accomplishments” – what they aren’t sure of is if the public could even understand what they’re going through while doing the yeoman’s work in Iraq and Afghanistan. As I’ve said before; completing that mission, whether they agree with the political premise, is what they do: Nothing more, nothing less.

I'm done.

staring into the weekend

A few bits-and-bobs to wrap up the week before we kick-off the big Memorial Day holiday weekend.

I remember buying Jeff Buckley’s Grace CD back in the mid-90’s, I don’t remember if it was before or after his death, and hearing him sing Hallelujah. At the time, I didn’t know jack about Leonard Cohen and wasn’t brought into the fold until X and I discussed some question about what singer/artist we couldn’t live without. My answer was Steve Earle; hers was the great Cohen – then I learned. I bring this up because Andrew Sullivan linked to a Later with Jools Holland clip of k.d. lang singing the grand tune on the Beeb. It’s a great song and she can certainly handle it. I’ve often tried to find links to performmances on Later only to be shot down by the BBC Web site – I guess I should try the youtubes. Enjoy.



Here’s a link to a story at The American Conservative that is somehow both admiring of Jim Webb’s work on the Hill and then slaps at service in the military. You should read the whole article but it’s the opening of the fifth paragraph that should scream, F&*^ off. I’m pretty sure I’m onboard with anyone serving under fire, voluntarily for three years, and getting to then attend college on my dime. Can anyone be serious when bitching about, and comparing, the odds of dying in combat and attending college? Based on the length of WWII, which is the basis for the Webb bill, those three years are perfectly acceptable. I won’t need to do any work against McCain in the autumn because he didn’t support this bill and it's just another mark against. I also like that it had a veto-proof majority.

My final bob is this cover article from this week’s Washington City Paper. It's the best story I’ve read from a very good source. I’ll keep my analogy to my little old self.

Have a lovely weekend.

Hugs to all,

t.

my cents

I went to the Web site 270towin and took a look at the electoral results from the last few Presidential elections. What’s important to me isn’t the endless popular vote statistics that either Clinton or Obama are using to support their case – primaries don’t translate to the general: either candidate will carry California or New York so telling me otherwise is a weak argument. You’re just mangling numbers to make you feel better about your candidate. What I remember so well from 2000 was yelling at the talking heads that it was just Florida that was the downfall – it was any single ‘safe’ state that Gore ignored. If he had carried any state that he lost – any state from Alaska to Nevada – he would have won. Every state is worth at least three electoral votes and he lost by five. Using that election as a basis since only three states changed in 2004 (Kerry lost N.M and Iowa, but picked-up N.H.) it’s pretty clear to see what needs to be done. (P.S. Hey Al, if you can’t carry your home state then it’s pretty tough to blame anyone else for that loss.) Of the states that could have swung in 2000, we needed any one of the following:

+ 40,000 of 2.2. million cast in Missouri
+ 11,000 of 600,000 cast in Nevada
+ 3,500 of 550,000 cast in New Hampshire
+ 40,000 of 2 million cast in Tennessee

It wasn’t just Florida. If we get back to picking up the states that Democrats carried in 2000 then it’s one step to a victory – without Florida or Ohio. The states that are hanging, according to the Web site, include seven states the Dems carried in 2000: N.M., Minnesota, Wisconsin, Iowa, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. All seven of those states have been predominantly Democrat over the last four Presidential election cycles, and at least half of the last ten cycles. There are five states in play from the Republican pull in 2000: Nevada, Colorado, Missouri, North Carolina, and Virginia. Nevada and Missouri have split over the last four elections, and New Mexico has gone Dem three of the last four. The other four states have been strongly Republican over the last ten cycles. I happen to think Virginia is going to become very important even if its run Republican forever – more power to the massive population growth in Arlington, Alexandria, and Fairfax counties that has brought in two Democratic governors, Senator Jim Webb, and a second Senate seat on the horizon with Democrat Mark Warner.

I think that pulling Nevada, Missouri, and New Mexico means the end of the campaign. Who knows what the hell the Granite State folks will do in the end – can someone pop over to Keene and help them out. It’s almost impossible to imagine a surge in Republican support across the hardcore Democratic states whether our nominee is Clinton or Obama – the numbers won’t change even if Virginia doesn’t come through – and the Dems cover 276 – 262.

My point in this ramble is this: the Democrats need to bring out the numbers we’ve seen during the primary season for the general election. The candidate needs to hit the fringe states hard and use them to leverage off states like Florida and Ohio. Simple mistakes like not carrying your home state or giving away the smaller states that are in play can’t be allowed.

I’ve made my case.

Feel free to take that nap now.

pump my gas

A few years ago while living out in Nevada I remember checking the Internets to see if there’d been a Web site established that provided current gas prices in my local area. What’s strange to remember was this was the summer of 2005 when gas prices were heaving up towards $2.25 - $2.50 a gallon. I came across gasbuddy.com, updated by locals, and would occasionally check it before heading into Reno just to see if there was some mystery station with crazy Eddie pricing. (More on that in a second.) I’ve now joined gusbuddy for no other purpose than to increase my demented old-man hobby repertoire. Since I don’t drive to and from work in the morning I can now pull out my little pad and jot down gas prices at the four or five stations planted along the main artery towards my work. The immediate fear of addiction is clear: I can see myself trying to write down the price of every gas station The Eleven passes as we motor about NoVa in search of craigslist treasures or groceries. “What was that? I think it was a Shell, no, an ESSO? Crap. 385 397 411 and 452 for diesel. Was it 452 for diesel or 462? Slow down, I can’t read the numbers. Turn around, I need that station. Hey, that place is only 399 for premium; pull-in and top off…I don’t care if we only need a half gallon.” You get the idea. Of course, the search for cheap gas prices is an almost comical mission. Unless you’re deciding between $3.99 and $4.25 per gallon it’s a complete waste of time – that’s where a Web site might help if there’s some indie, rebel-like, socialist station in the neighborhood. If I'm saving two bits per gallon when filling up a 17-gallon Golden Mercedes (as if you’d have one), for a grand total of $4.25 in savings per tank, I think that we can chuckle the next time I use that to buy another grande mocha down at the local. If we’re digging around to save a nickel per gallon – a glistening $.90 per fill up – we’ve lost our minds. There was clearly a point where we crossed over to financial difficulties related to gas and its direct relation on all consumer goods. In fact, I think we can look back at the $2 per gallon mark as the quake point. It was pretty clear even back then that when gas prices doubled we’d have economic issues. The question now is how high do they go? Is there another double left in the system? I think $5 a gallon wouldn’t have a much worse effect than we have right now; I think our personal recovery process to get through this round will hold us through that number. Six bucks a gallon will trigger a new crisis.

Speaking of gas, the Summer Gas Tax Holiday very quickly became the stupidest economic idea of the decade – almost immediately setting a new record after the Administration’s economic stimulus package stood top of the hill. The federal gas tax is $.18 per gallon which leads to similar math as above. Let’s pretend you are driving The Ring and filling up once a week: a net savings of $12.14 per week, $48.42 per month, $145.26 for the summer. If my mortgage is resetting upwards and I'm struggling with food prices, that $140 over three months isn’t helping – it’s pandering. And at the expense of billions and billions of tax dollars used for infrastructure. I'll let you read economic reports and figure out the exact details.

I’ve also learned that the gas station/company Total is really pronounce /toe-tahl/, as in the first two syllable of totalitarian. Something good has come…


I just heard a story on NPR about how The Gap (Gap, Old Navy, Banana Rep) is struggling to survive: the reporter indicated that they're losing the hip market share to Urban Outfitters and J. Crew. That’s kind of like saying that N*Sync is losing market share to the Backstreet Boys. What I want to see a cross-mall, customer showdown between kids kitted-out in Old Navy and the newer, hipper kids wearing Urban Outfitters. They can begin their battle from across the atrium, Ride of the Valkyries playing gently from the mall speakers, stream passed the Barnes & Noble and Williams-Sonoma, skirt the Apple store, jump over the information desk - and as the soundtrack of war suddenly changes to Lily Allen or Natasha Bedingfield - throw half-empty cans of Red Bull across the battle lines.

Must be a Friday before a long holiday weekend.

t

of letters

Speaking of people of letters, while walking home from the Metro this afternoon I was viewing and judging the homes along Haycock Road when I came across one of those genius families that put their address above the garage using black cursive, wrought-iron letters. I'd never thought much about it but I'm now convinced that crappy lettering in lieu of bright brass or lit actual numbers is horribly frustrating. I'm sure I've driven around any number of unfamiliar neighborhoods looking for addresses and coming across some house with Garamond italic phrases proclaiming, in the dusk of evening, that this home is indeed seventy-five thirty-nine Jumbalaya Lane.

The Eleven has been all over craigslist for the last three or four weeks filling some of the needs for the new place. Suddenly we notice a certain type of post-er / photog that feels the need to display furniture just so; like this or this. The first thing that comes to a man's mind runs along these lines. "Honey, take the chaise outside for the picture...not there, over there...not on the grass, on the sidewalk. Don't step on the dahlias!...maybe a little closer to the driveway...watch out for the minivan...that looks good. Wait...what about the backlighting..." In our little minds we're thinking our original plan of tossing the damn thing in a dumpster - or eating it - would be preferable to this jackassery. I love the table in this ad because apparently it would make a great "computer desk" out near the forest in our backyard. "Hey honey, why don't you take your computer out back - I'll run you a power cord."

Maybe I'm jaded.

t.

law and order

X graduated from law school on Sunday; the weather forced the ceremony, diploma giving, and reception indoors, so attendees were limited to two for each graduate. Her mother and I were lucky enough to join her and the other JD and LLM kids in the old Georgetown gym on the main campus. It was a very nice ceremony but it’s the more than three years of academia that impresses me most – pomp and circumstance be damned. What you see from the professors that attend in their myriad of robes is the same look – a look that parents give when their children have moved onto sixth grade. She, along with two of her cohorts in crime, graduated with Honors and all of the Owls (Older Wiser Law Students) so move into the real-world of employment delays and business casual dress. I’m very proud of her. (Once we locate the camera disc loader thingy from the moving boxes I’ll post the photog of the lovely and her pals…)

Corey and Wondertwin2 took her (and me by default…free dinner, no studying) to dinner last night at a fancy joint down in Alexandria to celebrate her mean feat. What none of us could figure out was why we didn’t just have dinner at home since Corey decided he could make everything; a bit of mystery. I’m wholly unable to make anything that looks remotely gourmet or Food Network-y since my limits are set at the “mess of food” level. This is probably an answer to the issue of why he can bake and I can’t.

Two things for you to ponder before I next type: first, what do we think about the Aussie double-amputee sprinter trying to qualify for the Olympics; second, how ‘bout those Cubs.

Love to all.

T.

push and pull

I remember reading about train stuffers in Japan; here they are.



I’m torn because I often think it’d be a great idea (I may even beg) to have pushers at the busiest DC Metro stations – primarily to stop tourists and lunatics from impeding my progress – but if it’s really this crowded then I think I’ll just back off. I guess you won’t be reading your newspaper on this line.

I got an e-mail from a friend who I knew well from my time in England and elsewhere. He was long ago been dubbed “Euro” by our good friend and has stayed to true to an idea he told me about years ago. I think he planned much better than I for his first foray after retirement:

"Hey man...I'm retired as well, as of 1 January. I'm married, living
in Omaha with my wife who is still in [the Air Force] for another 2 years. I'm in Cork, Ireland at week 5 of a 12-week cookery course...Ballymaloe Cookery School. I've decided to become a cook and work my way towards being a Head Chef, concentrating on local/seasonal products, etc...yeah, much different life than the one I left. What are you up to in D.C.? Well, I'm off to do some filing and ordering of work for tomorrow morning's cooking...take good care, Bryce."

Son of a bitch. He’s just the kind of character to pull this stunt on me, “Hey look, cooking school.” I’ve already looked my GI Bill to see if they’ll pay tuition – I’ll save for three years and maybe in the Summer of 2011 give it a go.

T.

lumbergh

I cut our swatch of Everest today. When you come and see the house – stay if you like, we’ve got rooms and futons – you’ll understand the yard thing. Luckily, I’ve got some yard and groundskeeping skills. If I can claim only one manly trait then it’d be my ability to work any two-stroke and 3.5hp (or lower) apparatus. What I normally do is this – cut horizontally one week, vertically the next, and on the diag’ the third. It makes for a lovely lawn…and I don’t much like lawns. This joint only allows for one cut, horizontal – it’s way too steep and crazy to imagine any other geometry. Of course, I’m just crazy enough with the Jac’ to consider my options.

The immediate rundown of folks on the block shows that we’ve got kids galore around these parts. From what we’ve seen, there are four next door and three more two doors down. Lots of others walking dogs, and themselves, every night; a very friendly neighborhood. G. pontificated on his shyness when we first moved here but he wandered about tonight and came home with a half dozen kids in tow. I told him I thought he could establish his own tribe of kids who’d follow his every move since he’s the oldest. He relayed that they are horrible at catching anything, namely him, so he didn’t think they’d be of any use. Ah, I said, that’s exactly what you want – troops to train and worship you. Upon the arrival of Henry the Elder this week, you’ll already have your kingdom of warriors. I got little more than a sideways glance.

Here’s my deal with work. The small company is struggling a bit and there’ve been some layoffs over the last three or four days. I worry about that, but I must say I worry more about why it is that my division and group leaders aren’t talking. What I hate more than anything else are folks in charge who don’t just sit down and tell people what’s what. I have no illusion that times change, companies need to make moves, and that the world isn’t perfect – just don’t hide in your office and f*&king pretend it isn’t happening. In the end, if I (or we) know there are issues then we at least have a chance to make changes and look around for other opportunities before you kick me in teeth and head back to your office. I hate cowards. In fact, we’ve had two or three ‘get togethers’ where the bigs spout the same crap I heard from military commanders – and I hated them for that because I knew the truth. As it is, I’m safe until the end of summer; beyond that (and my completion of their contract), I’ll place no bets. Man up.

The Current is playing through my speakers and I’m happy. I’m happy about that as an aside to everything else; these are the best days of my life.

T.

genius: fish and home

I’m reading a history of whaling in America, Leviathan, which the author makes clear is a purely on topic history and not a trial on whether or not whaling is, or was, a good idea. With that you know what you’re getting. Aside from the great yarns woven by the whaling world and its great influence on colonial commerce for a hundred years, the book has little asides from history that jump up and make me wonder about just where it was that I learned some of my history. I know I should be able to provide a basic window of opportunity for when the Mayflower landed in America but somehow its arrival has been blended in somewhere near (within 20 years?) the Santa Maria, the Pińta, and that other ship. I’ve fallen into the trap of American Elementary History that meshes the pilgrims with, or near, Columbus’ ‘discovery’ or our continent. I picture a bunch of Brits sitting in caravans about the piers of Southampton awaiting word of the discovery before they set sail, en masse, to the Americas. I’m generally embarrassed. I asked X when the Mayflower came to America and she used the establishment of Harvard as her guide and backtracked from there; she’s so strange – I can almost hear another answer, “well yes, I imagine that the death of Oliver Cromwell must have been around the time of the Baroque period because the great Dutch painter and engraver Adriaen van Nieulandt the Younger was born late in the the 16th century in Antwerp but he must have been in Amsterdam by then because he was a student of Pieter Isaacsz and Frans Badens. I’d guess about 1655 or so for Cromwell’s death.” One other item that begat a laughing fit was this, “No one was more surprised at the failure of England’s whaling industry than the English.” I’m never surprised by my failures, fully expected.

There was an unassisted triple play last night, only the 14th in history, and I can’t quite figure out how there have be so many fewer of those than no-hitters. The numbers are staggering: there have been 255 no-hitters. I’m sure the statistics and probability gurus could point out the real issues and data involved but it seems to me that having men on first and second with no outs happens at least as often as pitchers taking the mound every day. Let’s see, there’s a max of twelve or so games per day in baseball so we’ve got 24 pitchers with a shot at a no-hitter – I’d guess that the first/second/no out situation happens at least 24 times through the 216 top and bottom of innings that day so we’re on level pegging there. Of course, dude at bat needs to drill one right at the second baseman who’s probably moving to cover some kind of double steal, etc. etc. Still, I’d think the numbers would be closer than 18-to-1. Pitching a no-hitter requires an unbelievable number of contributing factors: no seeing-eye singles, no bloopers, no bunts, hometown scoring on possible errors, and on and on. The pitcher is probably throwing 100 pitches and not one of those can be put into play and make its way through some slight infield gap manned by a chunky shortstop with a weak glove who can’t move to his right.

The Eleven secured a 20-year old Jacobsen lawnmower from a classic 1970s Americana painting over in Vienna last night. This house was a dead ringer for all the ‘60s-built suburban places across the country that have the single garage under the bedrooms and the split-level flipside with living room window facing the street and an avocado or yellow kitchen hidden around the back side. I’m not sure if it had a basement, but if it did it certainly had some old decrepit ping pong table and/or mini air hockey table that’s sat idle since the kids left for college. The husband gave me the lawn mower basics: two-stroke engine, gas, oil, used to be self-propelled, spark plug history, and storage background. I tuned out at two-stroke engine because I know nothing about engines and I was daydreaming about my mother reminding me to sweep the driveway after mowing and trimming our yard in Omaha. Don’t forget to sweep. We gave it a start, it cranked on the third pull (as he predicted), exchanged the fifteen bucks, and headed back to our less suburban home.

News of the World…

t.

stars baby, stars

I was running to and fro the market this afternoon and tuned The Ring’s radio to an oldies station I’ve taken to of late. By oldies I mean the Journey, Whitney Houston, Billy Joel oldies, not the Frankie Valli and Fats Domino that served as oldies in my youngies. The voice I hear at the first song break is that of the one and only Kasey Kasem – doing the countdown on a rainy Sunday. It used to be a three or four-hour process of Kasey rocking through the Top 40 those long ago Sunday nights on AM radio in Omaha. He gave you flashbacks, nuggets of trivia, and the ever-popular long-distance dedication. What he does now is something called the AT10, which must stand for American Top 10 (genius, I know) that appears to take about two hours based on how quickly he was actually spinning the ‘hits’. What I heard were two songs back-to-back as flashbacks to previous AT10 charts: Whitney Houston doing Greatest Love of All, and Extreme rocking More Than Words from 1991. Wow! Kasey added in the little nugget that Gary Cherone was, for a short time, the lead singer of Van Halen after Sammy Hagar’s departure. That’s not trivia, that’s merely propping up ol’ Kasey with something to say. Eventually I heard Alicia Keys singing her newest hit that must blasting at all the local roller rinks. The Top 40 was an amazing thing back in the 70s when singles were actually sold for $.99 a pop at Westroads Mall. I’d take them home and organize them in a little hard case with handle that held about 60 or 70 discs. I kept them in order (as one would expect), I learned the b-sides, and I stacked them on that .45 tirejack device that spit down a new pop hit ever three minutes. Man, you could stack about a dozen on the portable turntable. Those were the days. I used to tape the Kasey’s Top 40 onto a quality Radio Shack cassette by a microphone laid up against the speaker on the nearest radio; I remember spending eight or nine hours every New Year’s Eve writing down every song that made the year-end Top 100. Kasey still has the pipes and could probably make me tear up if he played David Soul (aka Hutch) singing some dedication to a love lost across all the miles. “Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.” You know it baby.



The President’s daughter had a lovely wedding dress. Don’t say I’m partisan, I can reach across the aisle.

Hey to people.

T

our buddy

I’ll get off politics for a few days until we stumble into either conclusion or the West Virginia primary.

No Depression magazine is involved in two brilliant events this week: first, they are marking the end of their 13-year run as what I think of as the best music magazine. You might think that the end wouldn’t be a cause for celebration, but the mere fact that they lasted so long and stayed dead-on true to a theory of music, musicians, and the business says a great deal for the founders.

Second, and more amazingly, they’ve named Buddy Miller as their artist of the decade. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Buddy gracing the cover of the final issue. (They named Alejandro Escovedo as their first artist of the 90s.) I’ve long ago covered my love of Buddy Miller’s music – dubbing him the last savior of true country – so there’s no need to rehash it all in this entry. Feel free to search the blog, you might find at least one video.

If you didn’t happen to notice yesterday, the Cubs gave up seven home runs and somehow didn’t manage to win.

The house is about 12.8% put together but it still seems huge compared to the old place, even with boxes and crap everywhere.

I can feel the summer heat arriving.

carolina blue

You can say it's easier to be magnanimous when you're leading in states, votes, delegates, and (closing in) on superdelegates. Obama was fantastic in Raleigh tonight - he reached out to both his and Sen. Clinton's supporters. There is no way we can allow the left and the liberals to split and spend the late summer hating each other because of a very harsh campaign. But...what we are seeing now is a party bleeding out slowly and getting weaker each and every week this continues. I don't think I've ever voiced a desire for Clinton to quit - it's her job to fight on and look for every opportunity to win, and she's welcome to it. Have no doubt that I'll support her if she's the nominee. What the party needs to do is shit or get off the pot. Those superdelegates that can make the difference need to make the difference, now. Their decision needs to be made this week and the party needs to support that decision - the rules are in-place for them to influence the drive toward either candidate because those are the rules that were agreed upon. The fact that they are hiding, en masse, in order to save their own asses is appalling. They were established in the early '80s for the expressed purpose of providing guidance from within the system yet they seem to be sitting at home watching American Idol. In fact, a prime example of a superdelegate wasting our time is the President of the College Democrats who seems to be waiting for...for...pint night? A defining letter from Chad at ASU? Anything? I've never heard a more inane interview than I heard with her on NPR last weekend; and she's a law student! I had to look her up...Lauren Wolfe. What Ms. Wolfe doesn't understand is that her decision isn't based on anything other than her own processes - go figure, Prez of College Dems playing politics. I don't care who she supports; I care that she makes a decision.

The Supers need to end it.

And while I'm at it; I stopped the van today, rolled down the window, and kindly asked the woman in her car on Haycock Road to use her lovely turn signal...that thing on the stick. I beg and I plead.

ride a wave

To start, send out good wishes to little Ms. X who is right now, as I type, taking her last-ever Law School exam.

I should be better at putting together evidence when it’s sitting right before me. My story is this; with the move completed I’ve gathered a new mass transit lineup that includes buses, Metro, and some walking on either end. What I realized this morning while standing at the 401 bus stop shelter at Dunn Loring (something I won’t be doing so much of in the future) was that the reason for crowded buses over the last few months probably has something to do with gas prices. In my time at the club I’ve noted the usual number of commuters and those that come-and-go over weeks and months: folks with broken vehicles, new residents to the area, and those that mysteriously show for only a day or two and disappear - they’re a strange lot. Basically, my scheduled bus carries the same crew of malcontents on a daily basis. There are always days where some of the crew is AWOL but they’re usually back after a few days on the run. Over the last month there’ve been a lot of interlopers on both the AM and PM buses and, quite frankly, the space is getting more limited. While listening to the a debate on the gas tax holiday on the iPod this morning I finally realized that this surge in ridership isn’t purely based on cycles or weather – it’s gas prices. My analytical training sometimes takes a little longer to kick in when I’m listening to podcasts or rock n’ roll. I’m a genius. That’s the word from the man on the street.

Christopher Hitchens has another interesting commentary on the Obamas and Rev. Wright. The paragraph that struck me most was the following and I found it a bit too broad in assuming what happened at the time of the immediately before and after the Philadelphia speech.

“Nettled at last by the way in which this has upset his campaign, Sen. Obama last week cut the ties that bound him to his crackpot mentor. Well, high time. But those who profess relief at this should perhaps revisit what they thought (and wrote) about the earlier Philadelphia speech in which Obama was held to have achieved the same result with less trouble. If he was right last week, then the Philly speech was a failure on every level, and if it was a failure on every level, and thus left Obama hideously vulnerable to the very next speech made by his foaming pastor, then that must raise questions of eligibility for the highest office.”

I don’t think it’s a matter of whether the Philly speech completed the circle; I think Obama’s position as it related to both his reverend and race relations was spot on. What it represented was his interpretation of the issues that rage across race lines in our country and how those can be woven from some of the more inflammatory language of Rev. Wright. I didn’t see him supporting Wright’s assertions as made nor fully distancing himself from the narrative that led to Wright’s commentaries. The idea that certain words must be uttered by a candidate in order to make something go away is a horribly shallow desire by the public and press. It’s a no-win scenario for Obama yet what he’s done is to try to move through it in a manner that’s much more human than most expect from politicos. If he’d simply stated two months ago that Wright was “crackpot” and then chucked him on the slag heap he would have be blasted for simply brushing the bad news under the carpet and denying further explanation of his actions. He didn’t do that and now he’s still dealing with the fallout. What this shouldn’t be is an endless process that just resets and begins anew. Wright has decided to continue down his path of rage and Obama has now taken the final step and extinguished any hope of diplomacy between the two. His words and actions last week didn’t refute any of the injustice felt by African Americans but merely closed the door on someone he may have thought could change, or refocus, his anger. It was a decision necessitated by Wright, not Obama. What Hitchens does here is follow his tendency to latch onto a single thread and hold it incessantly without sometimes seeing the nuisance; the war and Obama’s reverend being two examples. He was for the war and against the reverend from the get-go and what generally follows are snippets that run support for either pillar on which he stands. There are some valid points and targets within the Hitchens commentary but I happen to think he’s reaching when attempting to sort some kind of math that aligns the Philly speech and what happened last week.

That’s my political pennies for the week. I’m hoping that today’s primaries bring us a little closer to the end of the Democratic nomination process. I can almost comprehend the frustration on both sides of the Democratic fight. I cannot possibly understand polls that say that up to 54% of Dems would either vote Republican or not vote at all if their candidate doesn’t get the nomination. I’m starting to believe they are the real problem in the party – petty, selfless, and mindless voters.

Hey to all.

T

moving across the plains

The new digs are just fine; full of boxes and miscellany but great nonetheless. The Eleven was pondering the amount of stuff we’ve moved and I’m shocked that it all fit in the old small two bedroom place. As X pointed out, it was packed like a ship at sea with everything strapped to the walls and locked into place in case we encountered heavy chop; we used to strap the boys in at the table. I think, using her term to describe my shock, the apartment was like a tube of toothpaste: we got everything out but there’s no way we could ever get all of it back inside. Ever. Speaking of the olden two-bedroom place: three years and four people mean a whole lot of scrubbing and elbow grease to get in order to finish out the deposit dance. X spent two-and-a-half hours last night just removing all the shelves, bolts, hooks, curtain rods, and trapezes she’d installed over the years. But, we’ve woken up the last two mornings looking lovingly at the jungle that canopies over the new back garden.

I had an entry about two years ago that flippantly threw out the name of a girl I’d attended elementary school with for three or four years in Omaha. Her name back then was pretty distinctive so it wouldn’t be much of surprise if she googled herself while sitting around the house one evening. I didn’t even think of that when I was typing away; seems so obvious now, don’t ever say I’m not on top of things. Anway, she found the entry and sent me a very funny e-mail proclaiming her fifth-grade love for another boy; we all knew about that back in ’75 but it was curious just how quickly it came up – we remember so much about when we were that age and trundling through our little kid lives. I reminds me of just how strong emotions are when you’re young and how much of an imprint childhood events hold even decades later. I try to remember this when I’m fighting laughter as one of the girls tells me about the distress of the days, not real distress, but elementary school distress. In fact, G. has a ‘girlfriend’ in his fourth-grade class who’s completely entranced by everything he does and is certain she’ll someday marry him. He pretends to hold her in disgust but he’s really in love with her: I’m certain that come 2041 he’ll remember everything about her.

I don’t know if I mentioned that the driveway at the new place is set at about a 45-degree climb, seriously. Once you hit the “up” bit you’ll be staring at sky and clouds, trusting the engine and grip, and hoping you’ve lined up The Ring (the new golden car) before you kicked down hard and activate the thrusters. Trust that you’ll eventually come level and feel the G-suit release as you land your craft on the terra firma of the flatlands.

I’ve sort our new mass transit options for Falls Church. I know, I know…

t.