queen of sandwich

My darling had a little adventure while walking to the Metro yesterday with her sister. She then spent Tuesday night in the hospital haranguing any variety of medical professionals and being tested for everything under the sun, and eventually strong-arming them into releasing her posthaste in the morning. She is fine - she went to school mere hours after discharge. I was very worried when I finally got word from WonderTwin #2 while working the polls yesterday. (The “finally” applies to me not answering my calls while at the polling place not as a reflection of Kt’s considerate behavior in calling…she was wonderful.) Anyway, no need to get into too much detail about the fainting spell, but it is enlightening, funny, and it makes everything seem a little less worrisome when we take at good, long look at testimony put forth concerning the breakfast sandwich, known as the “sandwich” for the remainder of the entry, that was witness to the event.

Kt had made sandwiches for the WTwins to nosh while walking to the Metro – a job often, but not always, fulfilled by yours truly. As X felt the light-headedness coming on whilst walking, talking, and eating, she decided the best thing to do, not the first thing but the best thing (the first being to start kneeling down), was to hand her sandwich to #2 for safekeeping. Based on what I’ve been able to jigsaw together she said something like “I think I might faint…hold my sandwich.” Two areas require consideration: Twin #1’s mindset and Twin #2’s mindset. What X really wanted was to ensure her sandwich’s safety because she was damn well going to want that sandwich when the situation, fainting, and lying about the pavement was resolved. She didn’t hand Kt the sandwich so she could simply throw it away – for shame. What Kt was thinking was that the sandwich could be thrown to the side of the road as her sister fainted to the pavement – I know what you're thinking and how amazed you are.... a sandwich/faint comparison and importance equation – but in that is how you come to understand the Twins. As things sorted and the EMTs loaded her into the wagon, and after Kt had given loving and superior assistance to her sister, she was immediately accosted by the most obvious statement from the newly revived: Where the hell is my sandwich? I’m hungry.

And there it is.

P.S. All laughter about only the sandwich situation is allowed and approved by sandwich fainter.

a little help

I didn’t quite spend enough time on the High 5 in my last entry so I’ll back up and fill in the story. The High 5 project was “the greatest construction feat” (or something like that) in the history of Dallas. It’s a major interchange where US 75 and I-635 meet and it’s a five-level jobber that streamlinesd traffic through what used to be a pretty jammed-up area.

Here’s a before picture:


Here are a few after shots – believe me, the upper road is impressive when you’re heading over at 120+ feet:





They love their traffic and roads down in DFW.

T.

ma! get outta my room!

My brother down Dallas way reminded me of my desire to cover condom shoppes (old-timey vocabulary) and the proliferation, if you will, throughout the strip (ha ha) malls of the City of Dallas and/or Dallas County. My most recent visit was filled with neon signs calling out for big, medium, and small…condoms. I have never seen a condom store – though I imagine missing areas or cities in Europe that offer this strip mall service. My first thought is that Dallas wants nothing more than to control the usage and application of condoms. As background, and those who’ve been to Dallas can vouch for me, they have the most ludicrous law(s) concerning drinking; and nothing goes with drinking better than condoms. The first is the somewhat rudimentary ‘state liquor’ store jackassery. Iowa does it, Minnesota does it – and I find them to be progressive...if that means anything. You can buy beer and wine in groceries but you don’t dare touch the hard stuff. It’s a completely perverse and tax-laden economy – not only will I take your money because you want a shot of Maker’s Mark (and who doesn’t?) but I’ll hit you up for overtaxation and governmental control. I’d almost think the Democrats and big government were involved. Funny enough, it’s the conservative, save you from yourself, taxing governments that run this sham. And now I’ve got to deal with condoms? Even though I can't find the city code I know in my heart, deep down in my soul, that Tom "*(^%#@" DeLay is behind this teenage mentality. Anyone named DeLay should...nevermind. The second bit of junk is the ‘private club’ mentality – you can’t drink in the City of Dallas (and any number of smaller cities within an hour of the Big D) unless you are a “member” of the club. This entails you paying $1 to fill out a form that signifies you are a 'member' of the ‘club’ that actually covers ALL of Dallas. Think about this. If I pay my $1 once, and carry the crappy little card around with me everywhere I go, then I can drink for a whole year via spymaster use of golden $1 card. NOBODY carries that thing around all year – you throw it in the garbage. The next time out…you pay another dollar. You can laugh at me for not being diligent enough to carry around my dry cleaning receipt but the fact is I’ll just pay the money to shut them up. It’s like "free returns”….nobody uses them. It’s the process that's gunked up – not me.

So…I’ve paid my dollar at TGI Friday’s, I’ve stopped at the State Liquor Store for some Wild Turkey, and now I’m thinking I’ve got my date right where I want her. All I need are a few…condoms. I can’t actually finish the story because it’s too stupid to imagine myself buying some Strawberry-flavored from Tom DeLay.

The other thing you get in the DFW metroplex is road talk. I’ve tested the waters with the MedTech in the Hosptial thusly: Is the High-5 done?

“Dang if it ain’t done!”

I headed to the DFW tourism office and snatched me up a few postcards showing the High-5. Here’s a link to the Flickr photoset of the High-5…it's over 1,100 pictures and I KNOW it isn't some contractor...it's the damn High-5!!!

I got through the damn High-5 in 26 minutes today. I used to be stuck in the pile of pig slop for 67 minutes….”

Here’s a shot at the Superdelegate issue from an insider. Any Super-Ds who jump now – for both sides – should be barred. They're there for a reason. Sorry, that was a politics jump.

Here’s my chant: Nebraska, Louisiana, Washington, Maine, Maryland, D.C., and Virginia…

T.

P.S. I apologize to all the mothers for my condom talk. It's the High-5!

run kick step run

In my desire to give dap to those commuters who go above-and-beyond the call of commuting duty, I submit the following event. It occurred at the Dunn Loring Metro station yesterday morning as I was heading towards the up-and-away elevators. The D.C.-bound train was already fully in the station as a woman was running down the escalator, full of eternal hope. She must have been about half-way down, just out of my view, when I suddenly spy a black, low-heeled, slip-on shoe flying through the atmosphere of Metro platform. It tumbled to a stop about 15 feet beyond the end of the elevator. Fortunately, that area of the platform was nearly empty since the running crowd was already a ways ahead of her. The period of time between the appearance of the flying jutti and the appearance of the shoe-kicker was barely long enough for one to sort out what was happening. She bounded down the trailing third of steps, appearing to hop off three or four sets from the end, skipped towards the shoe, twisted her right foot just so, and slipped the mischievous item back on while still at a full trot. I didn’t turn to see if she made the train, I heard the telltale ding-ding of doors closing, but if all’s right in the World she made it.

Former Governor (former Senator, former Representative) George Allen is on the WAMU Politics Hour this afternoon. Exactly how anyone believed that he could actually be President is frightening. In fact, his spewing of the party line concerning the War on Terror, activist judges, and all the other junk that flows from his portion of his party is comical. I’m sure there are tons like him in the Senate but I’m thankful he’s moronic enough to have dug his own grave last Summer.

If only my neighborhood had nicknames as great the newly indicted Gambino Family…

T.

operatic jungle

Over the weekend the WonderTwins nattered through a color conversation while nibbling on fruit and nuts and swinging about the jungle canopy. Being a jungle bear, I simply rolled my eyes, nudged the other sane animals, and laughed at the unrecognizable language. The folk over in #1 decided to fancy up their dining and living rooms with shelves, fancy paints, and sunshine. The dining room has already been painted and the chatter on Sunday was about color palettes for the living room…oh, baby! WonderTwin #2 opened the auction with a color visual: a scarf. This scarf appeared to us on the jungle floor as something we’d call green. There was much worry between the Twins as to the greenness of said scarf, particularly when that green might be applied to walls. Twin #1 blurted out that the color might be too “sage-y” or “minty” and might appear washed out – maybe a jade would be more appropriate. “Oh, interesting…” intones Twin #2 as she takes another bite of mango and swings off to another vine. Who knew the depths of green, especially in the jungle? I began to ponder my own rods and cones and pictured that maybe a sea green, Islamic green, celadon, or a nice harlequin might explode the design plan to grandness. Instead, I just threw a busted coconut shell up into the branches to scare off the primates and then ran off to the lagoon for a swim.

Super Tuesday seemed to decide little. All the campaigns will rain down on Virginia, Maryland, and D.C. beginning today. I think Obama is stronger in the Potomac/Chesapeake area than Clinton and with an essential deadhead I’m expecting a goodly turnout at the new voting precinct that I’m charged with for the first time next Tuesday. The Virginia primary is open, every voter can choose which ballot they would like (Republican or Democrat) regardless of registered party (Virginia doesn’t register by party) or inclination. That may make a big difference as ‘republicans’ and ‘democrats’ may swap ballots in order to avoid candidates they can’t stomach.

X has booked opera tickets and a hotel in Manhattan for La Boheme in April. I tipped her to the performance of “Angela Gheorghiu, who sings Mimì at the Met…” She loves Ms. Gheorghiu so we’re heading up in mid-April. I’ve never been to NYC so a two-night, one-night tip will be exciting.

Hey to all.

T.

am not.

Yesterday afternoon G.'s grandmother came by with an old high school friend and child who are traveling across the entire North American continent by car (Alaska to Florida). As they were introduced to G. the scenario turned to him running the other child, R., through the kid paces.

G: So, how old are you?
R: 8
G: What grade are you in?
R: Second.
G: Do you know what GameCube is?
R: Yes.
G: What size are your feet?
R: I dunno.
G: Do you have a computer at home?
R: Yes.
G: How many?
R: Two.
G: Do you own one, like, in your room?
R: [a look of huh?]
G: I have one right there in my room...

This very natural, childlike exchange is almost too painful to follow, especially when one kid is on another kid's home court. It's not like they met on the playground and G. didn't have the whole house to flaunt at the visiting team. At a neutral site each kid could at least have the benefit of making up anything and spitting it out while jumping on a slide or swing. It would be very cool if we could have adult interactions along the same line; I know, we kind of do, but it would be much funnier if it turned out like this. Imagine a co-worker brings his 'date' over for dinner. We'll call my date X and his date Y.

X: How old are you?
Y: 29
X: I'm 37 (ish)
Y: Oh.
X: What's your inseam?
Y: 30
X: I'm a 36. Where did you go to school?
Y: University of Virginia.
X: Oh. [damn!] I went to Cambridge and I’m finishing up at Georgetown Law.
Y: Oh yeah? Where did you do your undergrad work?
X: [leaning into kitchen] Hey baby, is dinner almost ready?

[pause]

X: Do you have a big closet at home?
Y: Not too big.
X: I have a big one. It's right in my room. Want to see it?

T.

hey. psst. the answer is c.

In some way the debate story at the end of this article warms my heart. I like Richardson and I think he's got a place in the next administration. There was absolutely no requirement for him to relay this story to the Post and I think it says a lot about how he feels about Obama and the fact that it isn't always about putting a choke hold on your opponent.

Read for yourself.

T.

one....million....dollars! it's all i need

I was perusing CNN.com this morning and decided to sort out my retirement needs by using their handy-dandy retirement calculator. I know that at my age I should be doing more than playing with a retirement calculator on a populist/news Website… maybe saving more money. I typed in a few figures (birth, death, dates, income, percentages, etc.) and hit calculate. I knew something was amiss in my life when the damned thing told me I’d need $18 million dollars by age 60 in order to meet my retirement fantasy. That seemed a little extravagant based on my current lifestyle. But hey, if that’s the number, so be it. Who can argue with math sums? I immediately began to think of ways to cut back on spending: cancel my $14.99 monthly Netflix account, stop giving $10 a month to Minnesota Public Radio, shop more at Wal-mart (see below) and less at Whole Foods, and maybe get another two or three high-paying careers. Why would anyone need $18 million for retirement? I began to think that all this ‘financial planning’ was nothing more than a scam perpetrated on generations of people who merely want movies delivered to our mailboxes, no late fees, and good music. Are we to live like paupers? This is why we’re in the state we’re in…too much worrying about the economy, politics, Democrats v. Republicans, red states/blue states, Iraq, Jessica Simpson and Britney Spears; it’s all going to hell. I decided right then and there to make a change and set out on a new beginning, a new day if you will, and take the righteous path to my $18 million pot of gold. I began jotting down the numbers from the ‘calculator’ onto a clean sheet of a yellow legal pad so I could begin to really crunch my life’s numbers. Oops. It appears that I mistakenly input that I wanted to live at 80% of a $880,000 annual income instead of 80% of a $88,000 income – funny thing about zeroes. Shoot, if I could live (or even earn) at 80% of $880,000 I’d be sitting at home on the couch watching all ten seasons of the Sopranos. The moral of the story? Check you’re math.

There’s a report that Wal-Mart is going to lower prices 10-30% in order to ‘stim-U-late’ the economy. I think the most important tidbits from the press release are these:

Wal-Mart announced Tuesday that it will chop prices between 10 to 30 percent this week on groceries, electronics and other home-related products in an effort to keep its cash-strapped consumers excited about shopping.

And,

Wal-Mart said for $10 or less, its shoppers can bag 4 Pepsi 12-pack cases and 2 DiGiorno 12-inch pizzas.

Let’s parse that first bit. Wal-Mart is making an effort to “keep its cash-strapped consumers excited about shopping.”? Isn’t that the germ of the problem? That’s like a corner drug dealer saying he’s going to throw in an extra 8-ball with every purchase just to keep his addicted consumers ‘excited about addiction’. Okay, maybe I’m being a little harsh, maybe I should read the entire article – oh, look here, you can get (for a sawbuck or less…) 48 cans of Pepsi and two frozen pizzas! This is what they’ve come up with as the selling point – the coup d’grace – for their grand plan: two crappy 12” frozen pizzas and a keg of Pepsi? How about for a tenner or less we can get a dozen eggs, a gallon of milk, two loaves of bread, a bunch of bananas, and a half-dozen tomatoes? How about that?

T.

blinded by the light

G. returned from a long weekend in the Midwest and decided to work his way through the first three Star Wars movies. The first three episodes being IV – VI and not episodes I – III; you know, the 1977 – 1983 movies. Nevermind.

X purchased a new clock a few weeks ago: I dubbed it the Death Star; I think its actual name is the “progression wake up clock”. It’s a strange conflation of happenings because I hadn’t thought of the Death Star for many years, all of a sudden it’s everywhere. The clock illuminates and birds start chirping about twenty minutes before the time of awakening – a gentle, lea-like morning choral event to enhance my hatred of early roustings. Over the last few weeks I’ve spent my mornings trying to discern whether in my dreams I can pinpoint the songs of various British songbirds before awaking and donning my frock: is that a yellow-rumped Warbler? A chestnut-collared Longspur? or, Belinda Evans? Sometimes it’s best to simply look away when the mailman delivers the stock to our door each and every day. Yesterday we got some oil burning wall lanterns delivered. I’m keeping an eye out for a headless horseman jumping the hedges or Pa Ingalls returning from town with the seed.

Back to the Death Star – the real fictional one, not the clock. The nom de guerre seems to lack a certain something. I would think that if commanding officer Grand Moff Tarkin and Palpatine were sitting around working on the Galactic Empire budget and defense spending plan they could have come up with something better than Death Star (I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t even be classified as a star…). Most weapon systems carry titles that either imply power or meekly hide the real idea: Fat Boy, Cobra, Apache, or Fighting Falcon. Maybe Tarkin and Palpatine had their kids visiting the committee room that day ("take your future villain to work day") while all were reviewing the blueprints and one of their third-graders came up with Death Star. I bet if we did a little more research we’d find that one of them might have a cat named Spotty at home. This is all apropos of nothing but an alarm clock. In case your wondering, these are apparently the specs for the Death Star(s) – I have no idea who entered this on Wikipedia but I am amazed at the inane detail, 52,276 gunners?:

The first Death Star has a crew of 265,675, as well as 52,276 gunners, 607,360 troops, 30,984 stormtroopers, 42,782 ship support staff, and 180,216 pilots and support crew.Its hangars contain assault shuttles, blastboats, Strike cruisers, land vehicles, support ships, and 7,293 TIE fighters. It is also protected by 10,000 turbolaser batteries, 2,600 ion cannons, and at least 768 tractor beam projectors. Various sources state the first Death Star has a diameter between 120 and 160 kilometers. There is a broader range of figures for the second Death Star's diameter, ranging from 160 to 900 kilometers.

T.

not yoo again

Here he comes again. I think most of us know by now that being book smart and being regular smart are two different traits. I’m not certain I have a whole lot of either, but…John Yoo is an ass. Yoo, one of the authors to the Bush Administration torture posse, has been sued by Jose Padilla – for $1. Yoo wrote in defense of his actions last week in the Philadelphia Inquirer and proudly makes his case via this stirring type of narrative:

"At the time, I was an official in the Bush administration Justice Department working on the response to the 9/11 attacks. Our lives had taken very different paths. Padilla had turned to drugs and crime in Chicago and was convicted of murder as a juvenile. He became a radical follower of fundamentalist Islam, left for Egypt in 1998 and journeyed in 2000 to Afghanistan, where he trained to become a terrorist at al-Qaeda and Taliban camps.

I had the good fortune to grow up in the Philadelphia area, attend the Episcopal Academy for high school, and go off to Harvard for college and Yale for law school. I studied and eventually taught war powers, a subject that always interested me because of Philadelphia's rich history with the Revolutionary and Civil Wars and my family's origins in South Korea, the scene of one of America's more recent conflicts."

And he trots out the troops (as they are wont to do) as further defense of his actions for both the memos for the Administration and support of his cause:

"Think about what it would mean if Padilla were to win. Government officials and military personnel have to devise better ways to protect the country from more deadly surprise attacks. Padilla and his lawyers want them, from the president down to lowest private, to worry about being sued when they make their decisions. Officials will worry about all of the attorneys' fees they will rack up to defend themselves from groundless lawsuits."

Are we so confused in a time of war that it’s impossible for people to determine right and wrong? Legal and illegal? I would think that the President, whoever he or she might be, and the lowest private in the military should be damned concerned about whether or not what they are doing is legal or not. The idea that Yoo would blatantly drape a flag across his shoulders and put forth a lukewarm defense, of himself, by using wartime and potential legal action as justification for government misdeed is heinous. He seems to believe that when standing at the abyss of decision and consult that the only safe way across is to ensure that we, or they, are provided absolute immunity and free rein – how could they be wrong? And even they are, so what? We’re in charge. How dare!

I don’t think any legal mind would say that the Padilla chronology was a victory for America. Yoo is pretty flippant when he opens a paragraph with “After being sued by convicted terrorist Jose Padilla…” He was certainly convicted of conspiracy to aid terrorists (a conviction that was overturned and then reinstated), but the suit brought against Yoo and others pertains to his being held – in isolation, without charges for years – because he was an ‘enemy combatant’. His enemy combatant status was deserted as the case worked its way to the Supreme Court and he was eventually transferred (by the Bush) to civilian confinement and eventually tried in civilian courts – where the ‘dirty bomb’ charges were not even mentioned. It was the process, and Yoo’s direct influence and ‘lawyering’, that begat the life he’s now got to defend.

T.

return of the king

18 January 2008
Riverwalk, Reno, Nevada

Another trip back in time this week; another chance to see how Northern Nevada is doing in my absence. I'll give the quick rundown on my old river rabbit trail:

La Bussola - they've reopened back downtown after almost a year in a very small space elsewhere. The old landlords quadrupled the rent and they bailed out in 2006. They are now about 50 feet across from the old shop (which is still vacant) and in the same building where they live. Great news for them. They are hosting a 300+ soiree this evening to celebrate the launch of a new gay Website that will be hosted, and specific to, the Reno crowd. I may swing by...
Dharma Books - They're still going strong on the river and have closed the second location. Cheron is suppose to be in Tucson finishing her novel but she's still sitting behind the desk doing books as I type. I love the place.
Bibo Coffee - Still the best brew in town and opening a second location closer to the river.
Pneumatic Diner - Two evening meals this week and still great; still on my 'best of' list.

For those worried about the housing market I've got a little input on the leading indicator market in NNevada: there were 400 homes listed for sale in Fernley during December and 11 sold. It's ugly. The Sacramento median price for homes dropped 20% from December 2006 to December 2007. I thought my earlier predication of 2010 for the nation was frightening but I'll stick with it based on what I'm seeing out here.

Speaking of economics, what's the bruhaha with "immediate relief" to the American people? Remember the days when 'they' said Americans aren't saving money and are failing to plan for the future? 'member? Our spending culture, of which I am a proud member, was setting us up for some Monday when the money would be gone. Now we've got Bernanke and Bush contemplating a $800 to $1600 per family/person package that "gets money in the hands of Americans"....for what? They say it's so they can spend it and get the economy back on track. I'm no economist but I think this might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard - give us money so we can spend it. That's the plan for temporary relief? Yikes.

The Nevada caucus is tomorrow in the AM so candidates and politicos are swarming the city. They all look a little crazed.

I saw an Oregon license plate this morning in the hotel parking lot that was something that states now provide for owners to use as an indicator of person's love or support. This one was "Salmon". Nothing more. Just the word "Salmon" and a subdued picture of a salmon - I don't know if it was a coho or king but it was definitely a salmon. Since there was no other indication of intent - save the salmon, eat the salmon, catch-and-release the salmon - I've no idea of the context. I know that here in Nevada they have "support Nevada Arts", "Keep Tahoe Blue", the standard "University of Nevada", and myriad others, but I've not seen something so ethereal as "Salmon".

I'm thinking of a movie this afternoon - Juno is playing right nearby but There Will Be Blood is also opening here this evening. Any input is appreciated.

I'll be back home tomorrow evening.

Love to all.

t.

"...so I can vote" - Brian, The Breakfast Club

Let’s not confuse voter fraud with election fraud. There have been times in our past, distant and not so distant, where there’s been what I’d call voter fraud – people voting at polling stations while intentionally misrepresenting their identity. Think long-deceased voters in Chicago during the machine days and you’ll have a good picture. Election fraud, a claim often made by both Republicans and Democrats when they lose, is akin to an election on the macro scale being affected by voting procedures, ballot counting, malfunctioning machines, lost votes, no paper trail, and any other grand conspiracy we imagine these days – that’s election fraud. That’s Florida, circa 2000.

The case argued before the Supreme Court today involves an Indiana law requiring registered voters to present a government-issued photo ID (with an expiration date) when they seek to vote on Election Day – this worry and requirement falls under what I’d call the voter fraud category; we’ve got someone showing up at the polling station and either lying about his identity, or voting when they aren’t legally allowed to vote. The partisan arguments are deeply embedded. The Republican, or conservative, argument is that the integrity of the system is at risk. How easy would it be to drive a vanload of ‘voters’ from station to station in order to vote multiple times in any given election? The Democratic, or liberal, stance is that the law will keep voters away from the polls – voting is apparently so hard already that only 60% turned out for the 2004 Presidential general election. The Dems argue that this ID-requirement law, as written, specifically targets minorities, urban dwellers who may not own cars nor have a driver’s license, and lower income families – all of whom are more likely to vote Democrat.

After the attacks of 2001 there was as a drive for a national ID card which was turned away after Congressional hearings that saw uber-Republican Newt Gingrich testify that he "would not institute a national ID card because you do get into civil liberties issues." This was followed in September 2004 when then-DHS Secretary Tom Ridge reiterated, "[t]he legislation that created the Department of Homeland Security was very specific on the question of a national ID card. They said there will be no national ID card." (both quotes come from here. Nobody screams civil liberties from rooftops like Gingrich and Ridge; yet, suddenly we have state legislatures and governors, almost exclusively controlled by Republicans, deciding that if you don’t have a government-issued photo ID than you are disenfranchised. Nice.

While listening to the Diane Rehm show panel discuss this today, it was almost comedic listening to John Fund (of the Wall St. Journal) trot out nothing but confusion cloaked by poor back stories. He put forth at least three or four sets of election results that ended up in court because the losing party, a Democrat in each of his examples (surprise surprise!), claimed election fraud. One prime example he used was a mayoral race that ended up in court due to election fraud claims – no voter ID fraud claims. In fact, according to his cited numbers, 165,000 people voted and there were 32 examples of voters who were turned away due to identification issues in that election. What does that have to do with actual voter ID fraud? I’m pretty sure that the election was not decided by 1/100th of 1 percent of the ballots (that’s the 32 number) nor was the result appeal based on those 32 voters but appealed on pure election fraud: machines, no paper trail, torn paper trail, or any of the conspiracy theories from earlier. He also lamely said that there are reports of machines ‘changing votes’ as voters touched the screen, machines shutting down, power glitches and myriad other issues in closely contested and court-appealed elections. Again, what does this have to do with IDs? He added a brilliant story that involved his crack Wall St. Journal team following a vanload of ‘voters’ driven from polling station to polling station and voting illegally. Great story John. Any thought on pointing this out to election officials? He presented not one instance, beyond his ‘vanload of paid felons and fraudulent voters’, where identification was an issue. If voter identification is such a problem then the Department of Justice must certainly be all over the problem: since 2002 the DoJ has 87 convictions for ballot (voter ID) fraud. As a reference, there were 122 million votes cast in just the 2004 Presidential election. Even if I think the 2004 election results in Ohio were an issue in the final tally, and if I say that all 87 cases were in Ohio, that wouldn’t have changed the outcome. Nor would it have had any effect in Florida in 2000.

If voters are turned away from the polls because of inane voting requirements (must have registered on 80-lb forms, you must have photo ID, be careful – “ICE will be monitoring the station for immigrants”, you don’t speak English, you don’t own and drive a car, etc.) then the election process is being hijacked – and that’s fraud. And that’s where most of the argument lies on my side of the issue. There may be upwards of 20 million citizens and legal voters who don’t have government-issued photo ID in America. This isn’t an issue driven by the integrity of the system: it’s a blatant effort to keep as many voters away from the polls as possible and the ‘keeping away’ targets are almost exclusively votes that lean towards Democrats.

By the way, if I didn’t have a driver’s license I couldn’t vote in Indiana because my DoD-issued military retiree photo ID has ‘indefinite’ listed as an expiration date. That’s simply one more hole in the argument.

up and away.

t

cake or death? toast or die...

About four months ago we bought a four-slice vertical toaster (toaster and nothing but a toaster) to replace our classic toaster oven (toaster and oven toaster). The old unit was only used for your general toasting needs and it was so ssssllllllooooooooowwwww that clearly a major move needed to be undertaken. In steps the Krups four-piece faux chrome and white plastic workerbee. What you need to understand about the newbie toaster is that it’s got rotating levers that allow you to not only lower and activate toasting, but also to eject the toasted item up out of the slots for easier removal. Unfortunately, after a few weeks the right hand lever snapped or broke in some manner that eliminated the toasted goodie ejecting. Since that breakage X would occasionally peer deeply inside the unit, wriggle the lever, hem and haw, and sigh her disgust at the quality of the world’s wares. I, for one, simply used a metal object to commute the sentences of the jailed toast or bagel – no big whoop. This was our life until about 7:30 pm last night. The toaster was taken to the dining room table, call it an operating theatre, and tools were acquired: screwdrivers of various quality, a crappy little hammer, needle-nose pliers, and brute force. Things got done and snapped off, pieces flew, G. shield his eyes, and I stayed out of the way; this isn’t my area of strength. What the scene reminded me of was a NASCAR crew that’s brought in a car that just got loose into the wall and they are madly tearing and ripping at the bodywork attempting (usually in vain) to get the rig back on the road. We had G. and X. over the wall working in the pit stall while I simply sat up on the pit riser and watched the carnage. For about an hour, as other toasters turned more laps and built bigger leads, there was cussing and more ripping of cheap foreign-built parts. Once it became apparent there was no fix in sight the crew gave up the ghost and X. decided that G. could simply destroy the blasted thing. As she headed across the hall, for what only God knows, G. and I proceeded to rend the metal parts, hammer at the levels, pry even harder at the plastic face, and generally have a grand old time - as boys do. The thought crossed my mind that we should take a picture of the destroyed appliance, mangled parts and all, and post it on craigslist as a “fixer upper”. G. wanted to take it to school to show what a hardass his mother can be. Laughs around.

When X comes back from across the hall she chortles are our destruction, pushes and pulls on the now ‘busted’ lever, and…voila! it works. Oh no! Something like this escapes her lips “Oh, I see what the problem was…” To which I reply from on high, “You can see because I’ve further destroyed the metal grating and allowed you see. I am great.” Another few minutes and we’ve ‘reassembled’ the mass of parts and pushed the car back out on the track to turn some more laps and earn us some championship points. It looks a like worse for the wear but it’s running and running clean.

G. still took the mangled part to class; his mom is still a hardass.

T.

The Wire: North Park

I’ve long awaited the CSI spin-off that takes the idea a step too far, CSI: Omaha. With that said, I’ve been watching HBO’s The Wire on DVD over the last month or so – I’m in season three right now – and I’ve got a great idea for a follow-up when the series ends after the current (fifth) season. If you haven’t watched the show then the whole entry is for naught…

One of the boys has been playing a few more video games than allowed by the North Park Dr. Police Department (NPDPD or NPD2). It’s not purely illegal activity but there are limits put forth by the Lieutenant, we’ll call her “X”: number of hours per week, location of play (only at our place), timers, etc. On Saturday night I was inadvertently drawn into criminal activity as G. relayed all kinds of Mario Bros. stunts that occurred during his afternoon out in the 4th St. neighborhood. I paused, like Det. Jimmy McNulty, and then let him know that he’d just incriminated himself to a peace agent. Suddenly there was a hitch in his voice, a sideways glance, a quick admission of guilt coming over his face. I tell him he’ll get another chance; that I’ll let him walk away from the street corner this one time – free and clear, don’t come back here and let me see you loitering. Call it positive policing. I turn my unmarked car around and head off to the west side. Of course, the next morning I feel a little sleazy letting it go and I know that the Lt. may not be happy with my inexperienced move so I knock on her office door, give her the straight dope, and let her do as she sees fit. Not long after this talk she ends up on the line with H. who’s out on undercover assignment in the Midwest. H. is basically given immunity by the state’s attorney so he cooperates and give us our big break. He spills the inner workings on all targets in the game playing scam: most of the adults don’t actually know what’s going on or who’s playing what, sometimes his partner in crime disappears and ‘may be’ working another corner – though it’s only circumstantial, and that if she needs the double truth she’ll need to hook up with someone we’ll call Oscar. Oscar is the Stringer Bell of this operation. He stays clean, he knows everything that happens on the corner, and he’ll answer your questions as a matter of course – you won’t get him on any cover up. When we get home we put every kid’s picture up on a bulletin board, we use yarn to link the organization together, and we add 3 x 5 cards with descriptions. Now we’re just waiting for Lester and Roland to sort the intel.

Unfortunately for the ‘target’ there was a raid yesterday afternoon shortly after the opening of the investigation. During a ‘walk’ by the Lt. and her state’s attorney they happened into the target area (with shouts of "Five Oh!, Five Oh!" echoing off the buildings), and decided to take a look around. No warrant was required as they got consent at the door (Justice would have kicked it down and flashed a badge, if necessary), walked in, and there sits our perp with game controller in hand. It was a quick cuffing after his protest of “it was only one game” was countered by “mucho tiempo” from the residents. He’s currently in holding with a plea deal in the works – it appears it’ll be a one-week sentence with parole pending. The beauty of the operation is that the wire wasn’t even used and still sits in place not even realizing that he’s a part of the sting. That’s good policing.

Bunk just lit a cigar.

gimme a kit kat

I got an e-mail this morning from a member of my online music group that passed along a story of a music copyright case that’s kicking up dust in Arizona. The music industry, led by the RIAA, opened the gates on this Arizona case during a case earlier this year against a Minnesota woman: that bit of argument was that one copy of a song is a violation of copyright and therefore theft. No need to follow-up on the Minnesota woman’s case because she was actually breaking laws yet decided, for some reason, to stand her shaky ground. I’ve long been against massive (free) sharing of music by buyers, users, and downloaders; you can’t just take music wholesale from a peer-to-peer network or someone else’s collection without paying for it. Even though it’s essentially a copyright violation I simply see it as the equivalent of walking into a record shop and stealing CDs; I’ll call this my stealing argument and I have no sympathy for Ms. Thomas. The Arizona case takes a turn that’s a huge concern for any music lover: claims of a copyright violation if I transfer a purchased CD to my computer and then onto my iPod. We’ve finally stumbled upon the case with will finally put the nail in the coffin of the RIAA. If this goes to trial there’s no way they’ll convince a jury that any crime has been committed and, much like the Thomas case the jury, will no doubt be irritated by the inconvenience of the theater and life. (The Thomas jury apparently indicated that the punishment was more punitive because they saw her as akin to a posing martyr trying to hide her misdeeds.) One of the RIAA’s biggest problems is that they represent a group of miserable companies: Virgin, Capitol, Arista, Interscope, Warner, etc. Every one of these dinosaurs is genetically unable to change their methodology of pillaging profit at the expense of musicians and fans – after all, they have held the keys to the castle for forty years. This isn’t really a fight ‘to support their artists’, it’s a fight to support the bottom line of failing companies. They can hide behind the moral high ground of copyright infringement but it’s merely a charade used to hold onto what little clout they still believe they hold. It’s instructive to see that the RIAA isn’t interested in companies or labels like Anti-, Bloodshot, New West, Subpop, Lost Highways, or any of the other blossoming and successful mid-tier labels. It’s laughable to see the bevy of RIAA types grasping as the straws of power in support of the old and wrinkled dictators of music.

On another note, it was a great night in Iowa last night. Obama’s speech to close the evening was wonderful. I already feel better and hope the train keeps rolling…

T.

P.S. The brief filed in the Arizona case includes language that says the defendant copied his CDs and placed them in his Kazaa music sharing folder. I guess they think both must occur in order to break the law but I tend to agree with someone who made the argument that you can't have one without the other: the download to the PC being the necessary first step. I think they put forth the idea that you can't have an accessory to murder without a murder; you can't have sharing without the 'unauthorized' copy. Slippery slope.

Seriously?

While riding the bus this morning I noticed three workers leaf-blowing a rather large pile of leaves down a sidewalk. The treed area was a stretch of sidewalk and grass populated with five or six mid-sized trees; not a ton of leaves but enough to build to a pile that was about three-feet high and ten-feet across. They were walking in a loose line abreast formation blowing the pile, top flying off and followed by the bottom, to a destination any number of feet down the sidewalk. I’ve never owned a leaf blower but there’s little chance that they are more efficient, over a fairly limited area, than a good rake. In fact, I suspect we’ve been hoodwinked into believing motorized operation is supreme to hand operation. What would a blower really be good for? Removing grass stray grass clippings from the driveway or sidewalk after manicuring the lawn seems like an idea; blowing a few leaves from the porch before crazy co-workers come over for the “big game” barbecue might make some sense – although I’d argue that a good broom might work. The more I think about it the more the blower seems completely counterproductive to what we’re actually trying to accomplish. Do we hope for wind while we are normally raking? Probably not. Shouldn’t the motorized thingymajig be a sucking and composting contraption that simply carries all those lightweight leaves in some bag on your back? Blowing leaves? Sometimes I wonder. (update: while looking for a graphic I found this.)

The Eleven swapped cell phone from Cingular to Credo (run by Working Assets subcontracted from Sprint lines.) No changes to phones numbers for either of us or Laurel but I have a much cooler looking phone. I bought a Bluetooth headset a few days ago (comments may remain rhetorical) but can’t manage to get it to link to my phone – maybe its fate…or reverse fate.

I’ve found (belatedly….amazing, really) that there’s an upcoming tour dubbed Three Girls and Their Buddy that’s hitting about a dozen cities. Thankfully, even if it sounds strange, they aren’t hitting the D.C. area but maybe they’ll add more dates later in the spring. The tour is Emmylou Harris, Patti Griffin, Shawn Colvin, and Buddy Miller. For some reason these little get togethers have now caught me of guard twice. About three years ago Emmy, Patti, Buddy, and Gillian Welch did the same sort of show across the west and I was way late on that announcement. I’ll keep my ear to the rail and let those interested know if additional dates bubble up.

It’s caucus day in Iowa; and so we hear the bang from the starting line disappear into the wind and cold of middle America.

T.

to the bank

Wildcard Weekend

Jacksonville at Pittsburgh – Jacksonville is way better than a wildcard team and if they’d managed to win one game against the Colts than this post-season would look much different. Jax beat Pittsburgh in Pittsburgh last month and will do it again – easily.
Jacksonville 31 Pittsburgh 17

Tennessee at San Diego – I’m tempted to say “who cares?” Aside from LaDainian Tomlinson this game is a dog. Tennessee snuck in under the wire, I don’t think they’re any good, and I guess S.D. will finally win a playoff game. Zzzzzzzz….
San Diego 24 Tennessee 10

NY Giants at Tampa Bay – Boring. Eli Manning in a big game on the road? Lovely. I don’t think either team has a snowball’s chance in the grand scheme but someone has to win the game.
Tampa Bay 21 NYGiants 13

Washington at Seattle – This will be a surprise to many but I think the Redskins will destroy Seattle. Line up the blitz package and pummel Matt Hassselbeck; no worry about the running game.
Washington 28 Seattle 14

Divisional Round

Jacksonville at New England – This is the one team that can stop the Patriots. Smash mouth football captained by the very cool Jack Del Rio. The Jaguars, if they get a lead or stay close, will run the ball all game long and keep the Patriots offense off the field. I’m teetering on this one because I don’t think the weather or personnel are a huge factor but the Jags' inexperience is…
New England 28 Jacksonville 27

San Diego at Indianapolis – Go home Chargers and run your mouths like you seem to do after every loss these days.
Indianapolis 24 San Diego 20

Tampa Bay at Green Bay – Favre wins at home and packs his bags for…oh wait.
Green Bay 27 Tampa Bay 21

Washington at Dallas – Dallas should have played the last game against Washington. Momentum is with the Redskins and I don’t think the Cowboys are that great.
Washington 24 Dallas 17

Conference Championships

Indianapolis at New England – Here we go again. The Pats got the scare from Jacksonville, they get the Colts at home, and they won’t let it slip away like last year.
New England 31 Indianapolis 20

Washington at Green Bay – The Redskins run comes to an end, probably due to conservative coaching and some crazy mistake by the staff, and Green Bay returns to the Super Bowl. It’ll be freezing in Green Bay.
Green Bay 24 Washington 21

Super Bowl XXXII
New England v. Green Bay – I think it’s a bridge to far for the Packers but maybe Favre pulls an Elway and wins the game before riding off into the sunset. Unfortunately I think one of the two QBs implodes and has a miserable game. The more likely is Favre as he struggles to keep up with the Patriots’ scoring machine…
New England 41 Green Bay 21

The Greek

give and take (back)

Since I’ve been in the company of many of my blog peeps over the last few weeks the paddle was left alone and allowed to ponder the New Year.

One of the gift ideas I had this season was two books by Derek Robinson – books published in the early 90s that are out-of-print and completely underground in the used market. I was reading the second – A Good Clean Fight – checked out from the library as I wandered the Internet trying to find both books of the brace. I found one and it arrived in time for Christmas but was then damaged during the great tree flood of 2007 (I'll get to that some other day). In order to signify the gift of A Good Clean Fight I wrapped my checked-out library edition and gave it along with the other book. You can only imagine the hilarity of explaining that the gift was due back at the library in three weeks – you can look at it but don’t let that thing be overdue. What a great way to give gifts – from the library. Chuckle chuckle all about the living room; one can only try.

The Eleven had a wonderful trip to Florida over Christmas. There was great weather, good food, and plenty of relaxing to be found around Mt. Dora. We all contributed to the upgrading of Mom’s computer so she can now continue to harangue multi-national online bridge players.

I can’t resist adding in this hilarity from the Catherine Tate show on BBC2 (plus I’ll always have it stored here…) I’m stealing it from an andrewsullivan.com entry which he introduced with “When you're prejudiced against everyone, are you prejudiced against anyone?” Please, let’s keep it politically correct!




We’re off to a dinner out this evening. I’ll let you know how that goes. Back in the saddle.

T.

incompetency

Sometimes your computer skills, point-and-clicking, typing, and general Internet usage, when viewed by a second party, appear unimpressive. In fact, when a computer is in use and there are two people involved with said computer, you don’t want to be either the controller or the backseat driver. I learned long ago that when the IT guy, or in-flight engineers as I knew them on the plane, show up at your computer to fix a problem you’re best served by heading to the coffee bar – or lunch. Do not do either of the following: stay seated and attempt to type, select, or pull-down any menu that the technician (we’ll call him “Dan”) is telling you to do – what he really wants is for you to simply get out of the way; or, stand behind him as he works “the system” and say self-incriminating things along the lines of “I wouldn’t have thought of that would work”, or “I don’t understand what you’re doing.” I know that in either case you can’t see computer guy’s face but trust me when I tell you there’ll be a slowly simmering recipe of frustration, anger, laughter, and incredulity bubbling across his face. Just walk away.



Stay with me. Last night the Eleven was madly searching for an Æbleskiver recipe for the Holidays – I’ve no idea why we seem unable or unwilling to bookmark these tidbits. I think it’s important that you have the lowdown on set-up in the dining room as this fiasco kicked off so you follow along and see the misery unfold in your mind’s eye. I was using her laptop (soon to be my laptop) because the genesis of the task was the sending a shopping list to my mother in Florida for the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day nosh shopping. X is standing about, doing not much of anything as she does, when I mistakenly asked her to play by saying something important, like “how do you spell Æbleskiver?” The good X correctly spells Æbleskiver (well done); the bad X immediately moves around the table so she can lean over my shoulder and “help”. I’ll tell you this, my google skills are impeccable - apparently she feels the same about her google skills. Maybe it’s why we like each other…some kind of narcissism, but not narcissism, concerning Boolean abilities. As my results for Æbleskiver appear before me eyes I get an earful of this: pick there, click here, not that one, this one (touching the screen), “why would you type it in with quotation marks?”, that won’t work, roll up, roll down, stop, there it is, try it with the word ‘recipe’ (to which I think “oh, should I use quotation marks now!”), you misspelled that, backspace, and finally I get this… “your google skills are horrible.” Remember that intro paragraph up above? Sure you do. Ask for help spelling Æbleskiver and then walk away with nary a word as she sidles across the room; go get a cup of coffee in the kitchen…or go to lunch. Nothing good will come from staying nearby and exposing your computer soul to another…absolutely nothing. There are aspects of relationships that shall never be overcome.

X ordered a new fiberglass duvet cover and matching pillows last week. Our cotton, winter standby cover suddenly gave up the ghost and fell to pieces - emergency action was called for and executed. Let me tell you that nothing feels quite as soft on the skin as a scratchy, pokey, uncomfortable pile of linen misery. I’m not quite as princess-y as the princess so I didn’t notice the horrible feel until shortly after she pointed out that the whole new bedding set sucked. Our bedding set-up in the winter, since you asked, is a bottom sheet with just the duvet colligo cover on top – very European. The problem in America, and I accurately pointed this out based on my middle America upbringing – is that in this here country people sleep with a top sheet all the time so the scratchy duvet cover (or bedspread) never actually touches the body. Also, any pillowcase that loads from the middle back isn’t actually a sleeping pillowcase but a decorative case and it’s usually pitched on the floor to expose the actual sleeping pillow. She had no idea what I was on about but she did remedy the situation immediately by changing pillowcases and getting out a top sheet. Comments?

Right. This is my life.

t

my dearest Roisin and Aisling

March is shaping up like something of a something for music. On the 1st we’re off to Baltimore to see Flogging Molly and on the 9th I’ve got (well, I’m hoping to got tomorrow morning) two tickets for the Pogues at the 9:30 Club in D.C. A week later I’ll get an evening of Bob Mould’s music at the 9:30 Club on his tour in support of his new CD. It’ll be a big hunk of Irish and/or punk music.

The Eleven hit the D.C- area Christmas party scene last Saturday night via an appearance at X’s former and future law firm’s shindig. I’d like to say I clean up pretty well but she cleans up much better – of course, she starts off from a much higher level. There was some confusion on whether or not this was an eating party since it didn’t kick-off until 8pm; I’m normally thinking about bed at 8pm. We ate at home around 6:30 (the kiss of death) and then discovered that the party was in fact an eating party. What can you do? Arrived at fancy D.C. hotel just after 8pm for cocktails and mingling before the ballroom doors swung opened for seating at 9pm. The food looked adequate but we mostly sat and gabbed while others ate. (Is this story too long?) This was the first chance I had to meet the high-powered types from her firm. Here’s a shortlist of who I remember meeting: fisheries guy, guy from same high school as X, IT guy, sad guy, tax guy, hedge fund guy, summer associate herding guy, various summer associates – to include X’s Cordelia (Buffy reference), and myriad other eagles. All in all it was a nice evening out of the house with a cute girl.

obama

I’ve signed petitions here in Virginia by all who’ve asked for help in getting their candidate on the primary ballot: Obama, Clinton, Richardson, and Huckabee. I suspect that the very blue northern Virginia area isn’t getting much attention on the Republican side since I’ve seen no one but the 'Huckabees' looking for ballot signatures. Of course, the big three GOP candidates probably have better organization and everything is in order at this late date. I do suspect there to be a Ron Paul push between now and the New Year if he's not already on the ballot.

I standby my earlier post concerning those that can win a general election: Obama, Edwards, and Paul. I know it still sounds crazy since Paul won’t get the nomination but the rest of the GOP field stands little chance in November – although I am enjoying watching the Huckabee surge and discomformt it causes the frontrunners. The election algebra calls for some solution involving those I don’t think can win a general election if they are actually part of a general election: Clinton, Giuliani, Romney, McCain, or Huckabee. We can cross that bridge when, or if, we get there but if it comes to fruition than I’ll vote for Clinton.

I’d have liked Bill Richardson to make a stronger showing over the last six or eight months but he’s struggled to get any coherent message to voters. He seems confused and often stumbles when trying to clarify his issues when pressed for quick and decisive answers. I think he’d be a great cabinet member but his abilities as President are questionable.

There is probably an unfair penalty to be paid for association with what I consider to be 28 years of oligarchic rule in the White House being extended another eight years; I’m including the Bush 41's time as Vice President. I honestly believe that cleaning house – in both branches of elected government – is in overdue. If we could chuck out 90% of Congress at the same time as we swap the White House for new ideas, I’d be the first to sign on. From my view, both leaders in Congress have been horribly inept over the last year and I’d just as soon see Reid and Pelosi step aside and hand the reins to someone who doesn’t have twenty years of Washington stink wafting around their behavior.

My vote in the Virginia primary will be for Obama. I believe this is a rare chance for the American voters to throw the career junk from Washington and make as clean a start as is possible these days. The Obama and Clinton platforms appear nearly identical on the surface, and they are by necessity, but Clinton’s foreign policy mentality scares me to death. I think it’s vital to remember that in the grand political scheme Senator Clinton is beatable by just about any GOP nominee; Obama isn’t beatable by any of them. If I finally have to fall in line with the “Nader cost the Dems the 2000 election” mentality then I will – the Obama v. Clinton debate mirrors that issue. If I don’t believe a candidate can win the White House as the Democratic nominee than I’m not willing to risk losing it all when I vote in my primary.

I guess the die is cast.

T

heroes and gyros

X says she possesses something called “Exam Brain” that she claims is triggered by the desperation of finals. I think it sounds like a superhero of sorts – “Quick, call Exam Brain! A high school junior in Manhattan has overslept for his SAT." Ta Dah! She says it’s not so much a superhero as it is a setting, an on and off thing. As an example she gave me this, and I’m not making it up, “It’s like the bagel setting on the toaster. Have you ever tried to toast a bagel without pushing the bagel button?” Or tried to take and exam without the bagel button? Maybe it was meant as allegory, or irony, or simile, or some other type of grammar I don’t understand but I now think of this highly-evolved brain as something akin to a kitchen appliance add-on.

On my way home Friday I took a picture of the warning sign near the doors on the inside of the Metro car. I know it’s a little out of focus but you can make out the premise: not only should you not block the doors, you shouldn’t do it in superhero fashion.



My rush hour Metro riding is limited to running against the tide and staying out in the safe Virginia suburbs but I’m certain that when the doors do get blocked it’s not like this. Most door blockage is generated by riders scurrying, like rats, into overcrowded cars – some rats doing so more effectively than other rats. One of the only instances I remember hearing concerned some lobbyist, young lawyer, or congressional staffer jamming his arm into the closing doors as if to say, “to hell with forward motion and all progress! I'm getting on this damn train.” The warning sticker model seems much more heroic in the “I will, through brute force of heroism, maintain the open valley of passage for all commuters large and small. I. am. Door Man!” vain.

I took the boys to their final gymnastics’ lesson Saturday morning whilst X took her Evidence final. There are normally three classes flipping about the well-equipped Arlington Aerials training facility/gulag. On Saturday the instructor of the 5-8 year-old bouncing daisies has split them into two, the 12-14 year-old bevy of twisting and rotating girls where there, and there was an additional school of 15 year-old balance beam artists tumbling and rounding off. What I find so disturbing about watching all this crazy activity is that I’ve never been able to do ANY of it. Ever. I can barely summer sault and I’ve got no cart wheeling genes. These pixies spent an inordinate amount of time upside down and hurling themselves through air with a future landing on some appendage (or behind) as an afterthought. Up they bounce as if it’s nothing. It’s strangely peaceful to realize that the six year-old flying five feet in the air will eventually come to a landing on parc ferme. I’ve decided after much thought to use this collective term for the limber, flipping hordes: an inversion of gymnasts.

That’s that, for now.

T.

hey! bud!

One of the grand mistakes to affect MLB was the 1992 appointment of Bud Selig as acting commissioner. The follow-on act of confirming him as commissioner in 1998 – after a six-year search (where the hell were they looking?) – was simply pouring gas on the fire. Selig brought baseball back to Milwaukee 1970 when he purchased the Seattle Pilots and rebranded them as the Brewers and for that he’s considered a baseball hero in that city. The great problem in the appointment of a club owner as commissioner is the inability to separate the business of owning from the business of the game. An owner’s only concern is making money,and making money and on-the-field product go hand-in-hand. At some point during his time as acting commissioner, though it might actually have been at the time he become the permanent commissioner, he ceded control of the Brewers to his daughter in order to deflect any conflict of interest issues. The point here is that I wouldn’t want any owner or former team owner as a commissioner; I wouldn’t want any former player or union representative as commissioner. This type of responsibility requires someone independent of both parties, whose salary is paid by both, and whose decisions are final. There is nothing that Selig has done during his tenure that merits any measure of awe. The two events that seem to draw applause are the wild card playoff teams and interleague play. I’m pretty sure the wildcard would have come to fruition with or without Selig sitting in the office. From a purely marketing model baseball needed the wildcard. As for interleague play? Well, you’ll find only a smidgen of fans who don’t hate interleague play – if anything it’s become something of a joke. How about the bad stuff? The league that wins the All-Star game get home field advantage in the World Series may be the worst idea ever. That’s like having a free throw contest to determine home court advantage in the NBA Finals? He oversaw the players’ strike and cancellation of the World Series in 1994. He banned Marge Schott – wow! That’s impressive. He reinstated George Steinbrenner – does anyone care?

His greatest failure, and it rests on him alone, was his oversight of the drug scandal in baseball. You’d think that after the strike and World Series debacle of 1994 baseball would be in a better state 13 years later. The fact is that baseball is in a worse state now than it was in those dark days. MLB can quote all the profits it wants – that’s what Selig desires – but the game is hollow and lost. Selig knew full well what was going on over the last ten years but he was too weak, mindless, and scared to attack the problem due to the risk of losing money. At least Fay Vincent, as commissioner before Selig, admitted that the owner’s were guilty of collusion and that there were major problems. Peter Ueberroth would have beat this down with a stick. Bart Giamatti would have been handing down dictates from on high and started a ‘suspended player’ queue outside his office. You often hear that the games (baseball, football, basketball, etc.) are greater than the players, and it’s true, but when the game itself is being run by incompetents it can and will be horribly damaged.

Those players named as cheaters will eventually fade from memory because the game is greater than each and every one of them. Baseball will never move forward from this decade of deceit until the ringleader of the circus is removed. It is impossible for me to even think of Selig meting out punishment and pontificating from on high after release of the Mitchell report. If the commissioner had any inclination to exhibit his love for the game then he’d step down and walk away from ashes he’s created. Of course, we’ve never known him to carry that sort of gumption. Selig will never admit nor apologize for his errors.

gonna let it rock...let it rolllllll

I was listening to Diane Rehm interviewing Daniel Schorr on this morning’s show when I popped over to CNN for a quick look at breaking news. Oh look! The Spice Girls are opening the new Virgin Terminal at Heathrow and there’s live video. Yes! They’re my cross to bear.

The newest Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame inductees have been announced and the opening report from the MTV generation of artists has been heard. Obviously, Madonna has been a lock for years but will still generate heaps of criticism from the hordes. Is it coincidence that Madonna and the Spice Girls show up in one entry? Considering the hold MTV had on an entire generation her entry is bonafide – as an entertainer she is of the same mold as Elvis and no one would argue with Elvis. Hey! I didn’t say she was Elvis. Add in a dash of “she’s getting better looking as she gets older” and I’ll support her.


John Mellencamp is another product of MTV, albeit a forgotten one to most. His days as John Cougar and the videos for Hurts So Good, Jack and Diane, and Pink Houses were staples of the network long before he became a more politically and musically driven (?) rock n’ roll figure in later years. I own most of his stuff and am very happy to see him gain entry. Very few of my generation would be unable to sing along with the opening verse of Jack and Diane – and we’d be doing the hand claps while preparing to croon. Here’s the video for everyone’s enjoyment…


Weather moving in for the weekend. We won’t need to dig out around here, it doesn’t get that bad. We’ll be bundled up for the Eastern Market on Saturday afternoon.

Love to all.

T.

map to market

I’m attaching a map of the craziness that is the Northern Virginia street and traffic pattern. I’m only using this as a representative example of jackassery that goes on about here. The reason I can finally put fingers to keys is a visit the Eleven had with a landlord/homeowner a few weeks ago (we were eyeing a bigger place at the time). He’d grown up in the area and commented, after I’d laughed at trying to figure out exactly how to get from A to B, that there is rhyme or reason to the labeling of streets and one of the ‘well known’ items was this…don’t laugh. The word streets go in alphabetical order. That’s not all. When they ran out of letters (years and years ago) they started over with A but then named all the streets with words that have…two syllables! There is an entire alphabet even further west from the river that has three syllables. In my imagination I can see a tree-lined street further west that’s nom d’boulevard is Arugula. I have no five-syllable words to even contemplate.

Here are the maps....enlarge and zoom into the blue areas for a good view; if you're a geek.

Here's the switch from one to two syllable streets:

View Larger Map

Here's the switch from two to three, note how the letters don't actually align - and how some still slip through, and how some crazy streets that are a part of nothing show from the abyss...

View Larger Map

I made my first trip to the Eastern Market this afternoon. Last spring or winter it caught fire and it’s in the process of being rebuild and restored. The actual building is sturdy of brick and I think it’s mostly the inside that needs refurbishing. As it is, they’ve set-up temporary spaces outside on the city blocks and the food market, a separate building across the street, is operating as normal. I asked the boys if they wanted to come along but they decided against – unawares that street and open markets tend to have huge crepe stands with gigantic piles of goodness. Oh well. It was an absolutely gorgeous day in the District and I was in a very holiday mood. I’ve sorted Laurel’s stuff, snagged some jewels, two Swiss peelers (yes!), a few knickknacks, and some stocking stuffers. It was a day well spent. P.S. X was at the Arlington Central Library studying law all day.

I’ve bribed the boys with Pokemon cards in order to get them to clean their room tonight. I know, precedent. I think it’s easier right now to get the room cleaned, and further groundings averted, than it is to consider future “I want something in order to do something” arguments. Their mother will be more at ease…it’s for her, not me! I’m taking them to see the Golden Compass in the morning before I settle in for a day of cleaning and Sunday Times reading.

I know…a rare weekend post. Read this.

gidgit or gadget?

There are two things in this world that I either don’t have, have had and lost, or can’t possibly be found: the perfect spill-proof coffee cup and the perfect over-the-shoulder bag. The reason I’m revisiting these topics is due to an order placed last night for a new Yak Sak. For those who know me intimately you’ll remember my first messenger bag crush was a simple black and gray commuter I bought in S.F. about four years ago. I’m certain that walking alone along the streets of that fine city over many a long weekend, with a bag purchased there, influenced my love of said bag. Since the retirement of Ol’ Baggy I’ve been through a Timberland, the current Timbuk2, a few cheap imitations bought at sundry stores, and at least a couple I probably don’t remember. The Timberland was never more than a one-night stand; the Timbuk2 is closer to just fine than most, but I’m going back to the company that began the evolution. Update to follow. We don’t want to get into the number of ‘spill-proof’ coffee devices I’ve purchased, lost, smashed, kicked, run over, or cussed at…

Speaking of updates. I neglected to mention that I didn’t go the Pats vs. Ravens Monday night game because my ticket seller bailed on me without so much as a peep. He’s basically a huge loser. I do have a ticket set up for the Colts vs. Ravens in Baltimore on Sunday night.

Kitchen gadgets. Here’s a ratio that I put forth as fact: the number of kitchen gadgets is inversely proportional to the amount of real cooking done in your home. As I’ve cooked more over the years I’ve actually gotten rid of more stuff than I’ve bought. When I was wandering through Williams-Sonoma yesterday I recognized this grand theory as I oogled the contraptions like I stare at animals in a zoo: cute but not really functional as pets. I bought two peelers, some kitchen shears, and a cutting board scraper. I have no need for the fancy stuff. As much as anything, contraptions need cleaning.

We had a beautiful snow through yesterday and into the night. The best part was throwing snowballs at Q. while I was outside with him. A totter in a snowball ‘fight’ is like a game of chance at a carnival: he just keeps tottering around and I keep refining my launching technique. Yup, he’s merely a piece of midway machinery to me.

T.

and the winner is...

I know that data basing, opinions, and ratings can be mangled up in a blender and poured into an icy, cold margarita glass. I’ll also admit that I’m not one to worry too much about the chemistry, actual science, and logic behind the process; in fact, when the 20Q handheld game first came out I was somewhat frightened by its ability to figure out that I was thinking of a weasel and not a badger. Most of the “you’ll like this” junk never really works on me – there’s always some system that tell me that Meet the Parents is really, really funny.

I’ve joined Netflix for my second go-round and I’ve joined for the same reasons: I don’t like late fees or worrying about returns, the selection is amazing, the price is just right, and they’ve got all the TV series I want to test view. I’m not actually sure why I let my membership lapse the first time. After you join they’re fairly aggressive in trying to get you to rate a whole bunch of movies you may have watched in your life, they ask you some questions, and then they allegedly build a suggestion list for a given genre. Today’s quizzing was so they could extract my comedy leanings and then suggest films I might like, as if that’s possible. I’m a little weirded out by the eight main suggestions:

High Fidelity
Waiting for Guffman
Manhattan
Ghost World
Fargo
Royal Tennenbaums
Big Lebowski
Secretary

I think that I’ve owned seven of the eight, and Manhattan I did see at some point. I love these films. I know what you’re thinking “Gee, they threw in a couple Coen Brothers movie, a Wes Anderson, and a Christopher Guest…that WAS hard.” But, the Ghost World and Secretary shots are off-the-wall – that ain’t easy. In fact, Ghost World has one of the funniest scenes, and greatest characters, I’ve ever seen in a movie: Doug. You also get early Scarlett Johansson (17?) and Thora Birch. Anyway, the query results fall under the same spell that gets X all lost in iTunes when she slinks in for a song and comes out a $100 later simply because some little bubbles read “if you like this then you might also like…”

I came with a bubble over my head.

t.

back to the roots

On Friday evening the Eleven and kids were driving home from a children’s dental appointment and Balducci’s gourmet market trip (the Balducci’s visit was my filling while the boys had their filling) and we decided to stop at the Eden Center for a little treat. The Eden Center is a shopping area in Falls Church that gives you an idea of what if would be like to get set down smack dab in the middle of a Vietnamese city, or so I guess – markets, restaurants, jewelers, too many people. Anyway, we’d stopped by for a couple of taro root, nee Colocasia esculenta, bubble drinks as our Friday treat. On the way out of the shopping center X turns to me and says “I pretty much love any root vegetable.” Maybe the conversation involved roots, with the taro and all, but it still struck me as a pretty broad proclamation to make in any environment. You can’t just say something like that and not expect to get laughed at. What did I do? I laughed, and then tried to come up with some other freakishly broad generalization which ended up being “I love most aubergine-colored fish.” Case closed.

Sunday morning brought visits to the DuPont farmer’s market and the D.C. fish market. I was in a mood. There are more seasonal changes at farmer’s market as the greens have changed, the gourds dominate, and the flower lady is off to Europe and Asia for the remainder of the winter. She apparently does quite well selling flowers. The pick of the week was a basket of jerusalem artichokes, nee Helianthus tuberosus or sunchoke, that will be deftly turned to a gratin in the immediate future (click here to see that the city of Jerusalem has nothing to do with the name…I know you want it). More roots? Maybe X poisoned my mind with root and tuber thoughts.

The fish market was a whole new experience this trip. I got two 2-lb mullet for dinner but didn’t want, or even know how, to filet them myself. The seller pointed out the blue-and-white stripped ‘building’ at the market that does all the fish cleaning for the vendors. I toted my two mullet to the shack, walk in, and get stand in the midst of an amazing adventure. There are about six workers, a counter, a scale, and work stations ripe with boards, hoses, buckets, slop, knives, scalers, and more slop. It’s $.45 a pound for cleaning so my 4 lbs. of fish is going to run me $1.80. This little cultural nugget is so foreign to me – this isn’t some fish house out in Virginia, or Omaha…this is a fish house. The talk is fast and loose, the NFL pre-game is playing on a crappy 13” TV in the corner, the fish is cleaned and dunked to rinse, and I’m mesmerized for fifteen minutes while I watch the destruction. Unless you have serious issues with fresh fish I’m taking all visitors to the market and fish house.

I’ve scored tickets for tonight’s Patriots v. Ravens game at M&T Bank Stadium up in Baltimore. The weather forecast is for cold and windy so I’ll bundle it up. As one would expect I’m working the light rail transport right to the stadium. Report to follow. If you see me on TV make sure to get a good TiVO.

t.