broken axl

Back in May of 1992 I spent a long Saturday standing on the field at (the old) Wembley Stadium for the Guns n’ Roses show. The openers that day were Skid Row and Nine Inch Nails – nothing like some Seb Bach and Trent Reznor to put someone to sleep whilst trying to remain standing. I think this must have been Reznor’s early days and his portion of the show was horrid. Of course, even when NIN hit their heyday I didn’t much care for the music. That weekend was a few short days before the release of Use Your Illusion I and II – two albums that would have been a better single issue.

What brings this all up today is Chuck Klosterman’s review of Chinese Democracy in this week’s Onion. Chinese Democracy? Really? Let’s see if I can put together a short history of how we got here. After Use Your Illusion was released the band ran a long World Tour and then basically imploded. It’s hard not to completely blame lead singer / songwriter Axl Rose for the dissolution of the band; he’s a huge pain-in-the-ass, always has been, always will be. The rumor of the great Chinese Democracy album must have started sometime in 1993 and its ‘sightings’ floated in and out of the media over the next five or six years as Rose tried to corral band members, songs, mixing, labels, his screwed-up personality, and anything else you could possibly imagine. The hushed rumors continued until the early 2000’s as Rose occasionally showed up in public and sang a few songs; a mix of old and new. His lead guitarist is/was a guy named Buckethead who’s allegedly a damn good player even if he chooses to wear a KFC-like chicken bucket on his head. (I had thoughts of thrashing him for the bucket-on-head wardrobe when I suddenly realized that Slash pretty much wore a bucket on his head all those years…even it was actually a hat.) The last I thought about Chinese Democracy or Axl Rose was sometime back in 2003 when he showed up on TV looking like a cross between Bo Derek, George Hamilton, and Joe Piscapo (in the muscle days). And yet, I open up the Onion today and find Klosterman reviewing Democracy? (He gives it an A-.) It can’t be. What the hell is this thing going to sound like if Rose has finally mastered the perfection he was chasing when he started the project 15 years ago? Maybe I’ll go home tonight and crank up some G n’ R and see if those albums from so long ago still hold up today. I suspect they will. I’ll also presume that even though we’ve heard nothing like them over the airwaves in 15 years there will be a number of strong cuts. Will I buy it? Nope. Do I want to hear it? Sure.

Back in ’92 we waited an extra two-plus hours for Axl to get his shit together and start the show. We knew his personality quite well by then and the delay was expected – I’m sure he must have been doing one part spiritual stuff and two parts drinking and/or irritating me. But when they did finally crank it up, they were incredible. Aside from the original drummer who’d been gone for quite awhile, this was the greatest line-up they ever had. If I put together a 15-song compilation of the best the band had to offer it’d be a screamer. Do we think I can get away with blasting some G n’R from the Merc as I drive around suburban Virginia? I’ll let you know.

Man, I was still in my late-20s when this all started…just a kid. I’m in my early 40s, I’ve been married and divorced (again), I’ve retired from the military (I still had 13 years to go when I saw that show), I’m living in Virginia (what?), and we have a black man as President. That’s some change. And all Mr. Rose has given us is one album?

t

mezzo review

I’ve got a few under my belt and I can make a broad assessment: a lot of time passes while little happens. You could wrap up the events of an opera in a 15-minute infomercial if your feet were to the fire. The six-word version of what happens in any opera is this – they met, they loved, and death. I defy you to find an opera that doesn’t follow that storyline; feel free to fill in the middle bits with whatever you find interesting. While you’re building your masterpiece you need to remember that at the stroke of death…the curtain drops, no carrying on allowed. As X pointed out, this isn’t like Hamlet where there’s death overflow until no one’s left standing: Polonius, Ophelia, Claudius, Queen Gertrude, Laertes, and Hamlet. That play drags on and on – there’s no single DeathCurtain moment. The opera doesn’t play that game and I fear that about a hundred years ago all the ideas had been mined:

(imagine a street outside a cigarette factory)

Bizet: Ciao, Giacomo. I’ve written another opera.
Puccini: Georges! Fantastico! Tell me of it.
Bizet: Ah, yes. A guy meets a girl in the opening scene. Let’s call her something diminutive like…Carmencita.
Puccini: Bellisima! Tell me more!
Bizet: They fight all the time. Every single scene. Long, drawn out arguments that devolve into much declaring of love and hatred. Ah, amour!
Puccini: Buono! What happens next?
Bizet: Well, they’ll be forced, or maybe they’ll choose, to live in exile on an island, or in the mountains, or maybe in a cold artists’ studio in a European city.
Puccini: Scintillante! How does it end?
Bizet: Maybe he dies. Maybe she dies. Curtains!
Puccini: Brillante! You should add some lengthy songs in French. Maybe songs that reflect such indecisions as love, fear, warmth, or death.
Bizet: Extraordinaire!

I haven’t misled anyone, right? I enjoy the opera. I enjoy all live performance because it’s become something so foreign to people. There’s either a lack of availability in some areas, the cost is prohibitive, or the cable box / dish owns the entertainment attention. Last night’s show was pretty good but not stunning. As so often happens, there were secondary male and female characters or actors, Escamillo and Micaela in this case, that outperformed the leads. Being that we didn’t have Denyce Graves playing Carmen it’s hard to judge the outcome of the real Carmen v. Micaela duel. If nothing else, Bizet managed to write some famous and memorable diddies for this opera. There must have been at least five pieces I recognized but didn’t know came from a single opera. I bet all the other opera writers thought his stuff was too poppy sounding. Maybe they considered him a sellout – his stuff would have been used in Ford and Apple commercials back in the day.

Our next outing will be Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross at the beloved Keegan Theatre. I thought of watching the movie again before seeing the stage rendition but I don’t want to dull the drama of competing for a Cadillac, steak knives, or your job.

58

It looks like that’s the number for today; Alaska Senator Ted “No!” Stevens has apparently lost his bid for reelection. This leaves only two undecided Senate races from Election Day: Minnesota and Georgia. Georgia law provides for a rerun if neither candidate earns 50% of the vote and it will take place on December 2nd. The Obama campaign has contributed a portion of its Presidential ground game in Georgia to support the election of Jim Martin. Minnesota began the recount today in a race between Sen. Norm Coleman and Al Franken: it starts with a 215 vote difference among the 2.9 million votes cast. These two races could provide a filibuster-proof 60-member caucus now that the Democrats have decided not to seriously crackdown on crazy Joe Lieberman. Even though Lieberman certainly wasn’t helpful during the campaign, the fact remains that we have a short memory: the Democratic Party abandoned him and installed a Democratic challenger as their selection for his seat in 2006 (ironically enough, as punishment for his support of the Iraq War and President Bush). Lieberman kicked them in the shins and ran as an independent and secured his seat as an outsider. I don’t much like Lieberman but the caucus needs him and they already welcomed him back, once, back in January 2007. I think they made the right choice in not stripping him of his chairmanship because it would have seemed petty when measured against what Obama is trying to push in Washington. I don’t think Lieberman has any illusion that he’ll spend the rest of his term on double-secret probation.

I’m more interested in the Eric Holder nomination as our new Attorney General than I am the Hillary Clinton move at State. Until the Clinton offer becomes more certain, I’m withholding my thoughts. I like Holder on first look. What is interesting to me is the conservative gnashing of teeth at Holder’s ‘nomination’ because he’s a “Clintonista”. It’s a built-in, knee-jerk reaction from the ‘refuse to scratch the surface’ crowd. Holder was appointed to the D.C. Superior Court by Ronald Reagan, he served as Acting Attorney General of the U.S. under Bush 41 prior to Ashcroft’s confirmation, and then served as the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia and Deputy Attorney General under Clinton. He’s been in private practice since 2001 and now appears to be our next Attorney General. I’m onboard.

As the incoming Administration is being built and vetted I keep looking to the title of a new CD that I’m digging. Why it runs parallel to the happenings in D.C. is because I remember Obama’s reply to an interview question about being elected President as the house of cards is falling around our collective feet – how he probably never thought winning an election would immediately insert him into the middle of an extremely difficult time in history. He smiled and told the interlocutor that it was the hard times that you ask for when you want to prove yourself – a time to be tested and a time to succeed. Isn’t that when you want to be President? Anyway, the title of Atmosphere’s new CD should be our new motto:

When life gives you lemons, you paint that shit gold.

Maybe some opera review later.

t

kick in the teeth

Do you know what I love? Meetings. Meetings that are allegedly scheduled for a given time that start late and then devolve into an unmoderated, heaping pile of junk. It happens all the time: 90% of the meetings held in the business casual environment are completely unnecessary. And, if you’re going to ‘hold’ a ‘meeting’ you need to have an ‘agenda’ published ahead of time. “Hey guys, let’s get together and blindly say words and communicate via incomplete sentences concerning fragmented thoughts while staring at poorly constructed PowerPoint slides. It’ll be great!” Today I’ll be hostage to a telephone conference / meeting. Nice.

I’m back from my week out West and have settled into some cooking, a comfortable bed, and the cool weather of the greater Metro area.

The Eleven is off to the Opera tonight to see Carmen. The mezzo-soprano, Denyce Graves, is apparently the “greatest Carmen of our time” but we won’t see her – the understudy is doing two shows and one of them is tonight. We have horrible luck with these opera gals – Angela Gheorgiou (La Boheme) ditched us on closing night at the Met in NYC last Spring, and now this. We’ll be riding the Metro and then the Kennedy Center shuttle after learning last outing that parking is $17. At those kinds of prices they could charge $700 for occlusal guards.

Speaking of occlusal guards, my dentist came up with a cost of $719 for a pair. I went in yesterday for the taking of molds – imagining that plastic teeth guards that prevent grinding – and thinking it would run me something like $200. As they are in the middle of doing my uppers the office manager comes in to “let me know” how much it’ll cost and whether or not I want to have the guards fabricated. Apparently, the cost to them is about 15 minutes of time because they send the molds off to be made for $570. There’s also a mysterious $150 lab fee that isn’t covered at all by my insurance. She tells me the lab fee is for some type of special molding-canoodling that makes the guards more comfortable to wear at night. What? They are made for nighttime wear…shouldn’t that be standard. “Anyway, we can give you these night guards but they’re made of wood splinters. If you want them to actually be comfortable we’ll be needing some extra money.” I called back this morning and cancelled the whole thing. I’ll put a bullet between my teeth at night and call it good. Of course, I fell for the same old dentist junk: always ask and agree on cost before Dr. Doolittle gets you in the chair. Unfortunately, most that I’ve come across in the last two years are some shady financial characters.

I’m thinking of putting in for some government bailout money. Has anyone found the application forms online?

T

what is this magic transmission?

I’m off to the great Northwest tomorrow morning and will fly back to the D.C. area on Friday. X is very concerned about a number of things: who will feed her, who will pet Lemon every night, who will keep her warm through the dark nights of Autumn. I left a few canned goods, I had a little talk with the cat, and I added a blanket to the bed. Deed done.

The Eleven took in the Caps v. Rangers game last night – her first hockey game – and I had to quell her “I think the Rangers are better, more organized, and I love their goalie” commentary. Of course, I couldn’t take seriously her organization argument because the first thing she threw out before the game was, “I don’t think the Zamboni drivers have a plan,” as if she’d know a Zamboni from a goat.

A few weeks ago she sent off for some digital TV converter boxes after trying to sort out the over-the-air / broadcast TV signal. We grabbed one at Target a week ago – using our socialist $40 coupon – and hooked that baby up yesterday. We suddenly have about 12 channels and another 20 sub-digital channels and are perfectly happy. I’m watching football in passing. We’re bona fide.

It’s turned cold here on the Hilltop and we’ve got the fire burning. Stop by if you’re in the neighborhood.

t.

frittering while it burns

All the tired seems to finally be wearing off and I’m almost recovered from a very long Tuesday – a twenty-hour day takes much more out of you at 43 then at 29. It also takes much more out of you when you’re massively out of shape. I’ll begin to remedy that very soon.

My old pal Buzz came to town last night and we plopped ourselves down in the front row of the club section at the Verizon Center for the Capitals v. Hurricanes game – he’s a ‘Canes fan; not much can be done about that. No talk of politics, just a hockey game and an exciting finish with the home team winning on a great goal with ten seconds remaining. When Alexander Semin scored the winner the place erupted and I sensed that all of D.C., so intense and divided over the last two years, was plenty happy to just cheer for a home team and not worry about anything for a few hours. It was quite nice.

Now, about baseball. I’ve made little secret of my lack of respect for the performance of Bud Selig as commissioner of baseball. Unfortunately, my calls have not been heeded and Sire Bud is still sitting in the commish’s office in NYC. Is my blog not powerful enough to bring down anyone? What we’re dealing with now is the endless ‘for sale’ sign hanging off the façade of my beloved Wrigley Field. It’s no surprise that the politburo of baseball owners would feel threatened by Mark Cuban’s ownership of the Cubs. Why? Because there’s not a single one of them that has any idea how to market the game, bring back the fans, or kick Bud Selig in the shins. Did anyone watch the World Series? Would I want to hang out with Cuban at the house on a Friday night? Nope. Would I want him to own the Cubs and re-energize MLB? Damn right. Under whatever rules exist (or were written by the oligarchy in charge) in baseball, there is a requirement for two-thirds owner approval before a team can be sold; Selig and his Great Lakes boys, who took over the game in the early 90s, can certainly hold off any real chance of Cuban winning the bidding war. Don’t think for a single minute that Selig isn’t the driving force behind keeping Cuban out of the club. David Stern can handle Cuban in the NBA after years of butting heads with him; Stern is a very smart man and could easily see that he’d have to find middle ground with the Mavericks owner. Selig isn’t smart enough to do that and he’d rather not have to use his limited skills in dealing with an aggressive and very successful owner. I don’t know what’ll happen in the end – maybe Chicago’s own Jerry Colangelo will win the beauty contest – but the Cubs and baseball will be worse off for not having Cuban in the league. Of course, Selig’s modus operandi is to do everything he can to ruin the game while making money. Nothing new. I’ll miss not seeing Baby Steinbrenner yapping at Cuban during some Winter meeting and getting smacked down for being a fool…I can dream, can’t I?

In the mass of birthdays (WonderTwin2 and G.), elections, traveling readiness for the boys, I neglected to mention that my lovely was notified on Monday night that she successfully passed the Massachusetts Bar. Much like the excitement shown by Pinnochio upon realizing he was real, I think she took a look at herself and realized she was finally, and in fact of letter, a real lawyer. And not a minute too soon as her partner in the firm had already dubbed her impertinent.

t

and finally...

A wrap from the Hilltop the afternoon after that beautiful moment just after 11pm when the election was decided, once and for all time.

Tuesday seemed to go on forever, particularly after the 6-10am flood of voters in my precinct. We maxed out at a wait of about 1 hour and 15 minutes during that time and it receded to no line for the remainder of the day. When looking at the absentee / early voter list, which included about 15% of my precinct's voters, we realized that by 10am the deed was done – there was no massive pile of voters left to descent upon us later in the day. I’d say that 99% of the voters were in grand spirits and happy enough to get to the booths in a fairly reasonable amount of time. There were dozens of get out the vote, freedom of vote, and voting rights members outside the polling place and everyone got along swimmingly. The new building manager at my polling center was fabulous – he supplied coffee and water to voters all day long, got us fans and A/C units when it got hot, and welcomed voters with balloons and kind words throughout the long day. The entire day was much more exciting and different from the normal Election Day drag, and that’s always a good thing.

The result? The Eleven was on the couch and watching PBS reporting on the returns and speeches into the late hours. We heard about Ohio coming in as we drove home from the elections office – soon followed by Pennsylvania and then Virginia (!!!) being declared after we made it home. Shortly after 11pm EST, California was called and it was over…finally. Florida came home later with Iowa and Nevada in tow. The scenes in Grant Park as our elected President arrived on the stage were stunning. His speech couldn’t have been better, more generous, more humble, or more welcoming to all of America. I sensed that he felt a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders – it was over. Deep down I think even he was amazed that after two years of campaigning, and four years since he burst on the scene, he was finally standing before 100,000 people as President of the United States. I had tears in my eyes. As the camera panned the crowd we caught glimpses of Jesse Jackson; I could almost feel, seeing his stoic face during the speech, that maybe he felt as if he was watching what he believed was his calling and that it had passed unfulfilled. Maybe some envy. By the end, as the Obama and Biden families took the stage, we had a last glance at Jackson. Regardless of your feelings about Jesse Jackson’s politics, successes and failures, that picture – of Jackson with tears streaming down his face – was the symbolic moment of the night. He laid a lot of the groundwork for Obama’s rise and there he stood, in his city, finally seeing the fulfillment of a dream he’s carried for over forty years.

I disagree with a lot of the pundits when they put forth the idea that it was the economic crises of the last two months that put Obama over the top. The reason I’ve been so passionate about him is simple: he’s a leader. Beyond that, everything else falls away. He inherits a morally bankrupt country: not people, country. We’ve allow ourselves to stand idly on the sideline while our Constitution, civil liberties, and dreams have been crushed by an Administration that is guilty of violating American law, International law, and committing war crimes. The remedy to that misery is the ideal that we are so much better than what we’ve allowed to happen over the last eight years. Christine and I decided – driven by fear of standing by on the sidelines – that we needed to get out and walk the streets to do our part in bringing about that change and leadership. If you've follow Obama at all then you know that as he delves into the morass left behind he’ll inquire, study, assess, and then decide upon a course of action that serves as many as possible. None of us will agree with everything he pushes to the Congress. But what we do know is that we now have a thoughtful, inquisitive, curious, stable, and dedicated leader. Those are characteristics that went extinct over the last eight years. Obama is our next President because people craved leadership that defines us, not leaders that desert us.

And so it is.

todd

Yes.

Beyond the personal aspects of my life, it's the greatest moment I'll ever know.

(photo: Justin Hankins @ justinhankins.com)

Yes. We. Can.

Vote.

you kids be quiet!

Our cats either decided to lay down the law over the weekend or other cats on the Hilltop determined it was time to test the newest neighbors. I don’t remember if this was mentioned before but there’s a biggish black cat that decided a few weeks ago to hang around inside our house during the night. We ran him off two mornings in a row and he hadn’t been back since. At about 3am Sunday morning a massive cat fight started in our living room. It sounded like some ultimate fighting (I know, I’m supposed to call it MMA…) under card that startled us awake. As I leapt from the bed in the dark of night and bolted for the bedroom door with cat-like quickness, I realized I can’t actually see anything without my glasses – nor in the dark. In my role of Mr. Magoo I was left to give X a quick “baby, I can’t see crap and the cats are dying” call for help. I managed to find my specs as she kicked down the door and let out the worldwide recognizable cat-fight-stopping call of “Shooo! Get out!” which managed to shuttle the intruder and our larger, de-clawed (we didn’t do it) cat out the chute and into the dark of night. The smaller, clawed version – better known as my girlfriend, Lemon – eventually came out from the front of the house with a puffy tail and her fighting twitch on display. Neither cat seemed worse for the wear after round 1 but round 2 took place last night around 11pm when I think Lemon once again engaged the enemy in our backyard. Christine again deployed the “Shooo! Get out! Knock if off!” technique successfully from the dark of the back deck. Lemon showed up a bit later with another damaged ear, a well-scratched and swollen eye, and a very dirty coat. She seemed a little better this morning when we left for work but I suspect there’s at least one more round before everything gets sorted. Unfortunately, Pumpkin has the size and strength to fight but has been sentenced to only being able to scare the other cats away until such a time as they realize he has no claws. Now, if we called “no scratching” to the rest of the cats, he could do some damage.

I see that Starbucks is giving away free brewed coffee to anyone who votes tomorrow. What this immediately begs is this: why not simply have everyone vote at Starbucks? There are more Starbucks than there are polling place – walk through, place your order and vote, pick up your coffee. Deed done. “Yes, I’ll have the double decaf skim latte and a vote for Obama.”

Another 36 hours or so and it’ll be over.

t

chalk talk

Roland Martin has a column at CNN.com on the Howard Dean 50 State Plan that’s been driven home during the Obama campaign. I was talking with my gal the other week about the how the plan was getting some blowback after Obama decided to close down operations in a few states that were clearly unturnable. They made a decision, maybe based on a timeline, that resources that were poised to pounce, if needed, could be used elsewhere. Had there been a need to defend, he could have done it. Everyone got on with yelling and screaming that Obama never intended to run in all 50 states and it was just blah blah blah blah. I think it’s important to remember that Obama wasn’t the candidate – let alone the leading candidate or nominee – back in 2006 when Howard Dean put this plan into play. The idea behind it was to have a ground presence in all 50 states so that as the campaign revved up the Democratic nominee would have the ability to ramp up pre-existing operations into something that could attempt to win a state or defend it, if necessary. As this General Election has unfolded, what Dean imagined has come full circle as Obama is attacking and turning states that voted Republican in 2000 and 2004 while still having volunteers on the ground in the Democratic states he needed to hold. As the new battleground states have begun to turn (Virginia, N.M., Colorado, Nevada, Indiana, Missouri, etc.) the McCain campaign has been forced to play nothing but defense with no organization in-place to defend that territory. The idea, back in ’06, that Virginia might be in play this year probably seemed so distant to the GOP that they put forth little or no effort to establish any foothold in the Commonwealth. By the time McCain realized there was trouble brewing he opened up the "GOP bag of good planning” and saw it was nothing but air and dust. As of July this year Obama already had 20 offices in Virginia while McCain had just opened his third. By August, Obama had 33 offices in Virginia while McCain was waiting to open up some offices around Labor Day. The same thing is happening in the other states where the GOP is struggling to find a ground game while everything crumbles around them. I don’t know that Howard Dean is a genius as much as he’s observant of the state of affairs: what political mind wouldn’t have looked at the electoral maps from 2000 and 2004 and realized that in order to succeed in such a perfectly divided environment you’d need to move hard into the dozen or so states perched right in the middle? What the plan enacted was a methodical course that took states like Ohio and Florida out of the mix because a combination of Virginia (already turning with Dem governors and Senators), N.M., Minnesota, Iowa, and Indiana would secure a victory without relying on the big states in a winner-take-all-but-only-one-state counts result. If you look at whatever consolidated tracking map you rely on, you’ll see that as of today Florida, Nevada, North Carolina, Missouri, Indiana, Colorado, Ohio, and Virginia are all in the leaning Obama column. That’s 109 electoral votes that Bush carried in 2000 and 2004 (and doesn’t include the now Obama-blue Iowa that Bush carried). Not one single Kerry state from 2004 is anywhere near the McCain column. As it stands right now, by counting only the solid states (defined as a lead greater than double digits) for both candidates, Obama is covered for 259 of the 270 needed to win and McCain for 127 of the 270 needed. What this plan has given us is a chance to win in so many states that seemed unreachable by old-time political (read: GOP) standards that all I want is Virginia to go blue and the rest (Florida, Nevada, North Carolina, Missouri, Indiana, Colorado, and Ohio) can go to McCain and it won’t matter one bit. What this plan has brought about is a new type of campaigning that will carry forward over the next decade. Think about the Republican lead in Texas dropping by 10% in this cycle: Kansas down 13%, Alaska down 10%, Mississippi down 10%, Montana down almost 20%. Those states are now on the table for 2010, 2012, and beyond. Even though the ground game isn’t strong there any longer – it was, and it put a huge dent in some GOP luxury states.

For those that harp on the Obama campaign as being some sort of crazy group of kids, all you need to do is walk into an Obama office and see the huge breadth of people volunteering to beat the pavement, make calls, and support in any way possible. It’s an amazingly positive and powerful cross-section of the American population. A good portion of this process would have occurred whether Clinton or Obama were the nominee and that’s as important for the party as winning this election. I certainly would have spent the same amount of time on the streets in support of Clinton as the nominee as I have for Obama. That’s what this represents, at its core: the fact that a huge majority of the people are tired of the hate and misery of the GOP. Fortunately, we had people with the foresight to get the wheels rolling well in advance of the day – it’s been brilliant.

I can almost see the Sun rising....

hey to all.

t

gardening at night

It’s the actual gardening / science part that I don’t get. I like the herbs, flowers, plants, and trees that result from all the work – work that I don’t mind doing – but the science blinds me. I saw this article at Slate this morning and thought two things: I’ll give it a go and I need to forward it to X. This is the kind of stuff she ponders. And, as she often relays to me the importance of growing zones, turning soil, composting, and tales of gardenology, my eyes begin to glaze over in a “she doesn’t know I’m not listening but I’ll nod, stare with interest, and blink at appropriate times” type of sheen. This article, which I quit reading after three or four paragraphs, has confirmed to me for all time that it’s the subject matter and not her. If our roles were to be reversed and the subject matter altered then her cross to bear would be me explaining the other night how I’d looked up the D.C. ward system and city council configuration. I pointed out, rather interestingly, how there are 13 members of the council: one from each of the eight wards, four at-large members (voted city wide), and one chairman (voted city wide for that specific seat). Hold on…I know you’re excited. The four at-large seats are staggered so two are on the ballot every two years and each D.C. voter can vote for up to two candidates. When the votes are tallied the leading vote getter gets the first seat and the second seat is given to the next leading vote getter not from the same party. Since a Democrat always wins in D.C. that means that the first Republican or Independent or Party of Todd nominee on the vote tally gets the second seat. The D.C. Council now has 11 Democrats, 1 Republican, and 1 Independent. As I was trying to finish this intriguing tale of trivia the other night she merely looked over and gave me either a “stop telling me inane facts” look, or said something like “stop telling me inane facts”. Same either way, right?

t

cold and loose

We have a chance of snow flurries overnight; the seasons have finally turned. If that’s on tap for us then I don’t suspect they’ll be able to squeeze in the finish of Game 5 of the World Series today. If I’m a Phillies fan, and sitting nine outs from a possible World Championship, I’d be absolutely crazed today.

I have issues with our pets. At some point this morning our sole remaining rat, Biscuit, was found prancing in and about our kitchen – just on the floor along the floorboard, not in and amongst stuff. There appears to have been some sort of cage transfer issue and he found himself on the loose. Our two cats were napping/relaxing/sleeping on their respective thrones in the living room as Biscuit roamed. Since you don’t know it yet I’ll pass along that this whole portion of the house if basically one big room so one might expect a high probability of cat-on-rat carnage when this situation arose. Luckily, Biscuit was spotted (quickly?) by a non-rodent slaughtering mammal (me) and secured in his cage in the back of H’s room. My questions are these: what was the rat doing wandering around the house? He’s fully aware there are two cats living in the house because they occasionally manage to get near his cage and harass him (read: purring “I’m going to eat you” through the bars) which leads to terror-driven wheel running on his part. If I’m that rat, and I find my cage ajar in the AM, I’m finding the highest, darkest, safest place available; I’m not exploring the open ranges of the house with two killer cats lurking about the place. Second, our ‘killer’ cats are for crap. Don’t get me wrong here – the last thing I want is anything to happen to ratty-rat – but at least they could have shown some ability to sense or recognize there was a meal wandering nearby. What? They can show interest in the piece of string that G wiggles on the floor but an actual rodent does nothing for them? Useless, each and every one of them.

X is being a lawyer suddenly. (I just checked the Mass Bar Web site and they say results should be available by November 7th – not sure how – and mailed by November 15th. We await…) She gets dolled-up every morning and heads in to the Golden Triangle to swish around with the other attorneys. My prime responsibility in the house has once again returned: creating a breakfast sandwich and lunch options for little Ms. Sandra Day. I think she’s finally completed all of her paperwork that will eventually lead to real paychecks, quizzical health insurance, and taxes. She’s all grown up.

I’ll be spending some time over the next few days imagining how I’m going to configure my voting precinct so I can manage to get everyone through in a reasonable amount of time. Believe it or not, my goal is to keep the wait for everyone to no longer than 45 minutes – and that’ll be a drive through for many places. Herding people – it’s what I do.

t

the people

Richard Trumka of the AFL-CIO addressing the United Steel Workers Union. I have never seen such elitists. Cake eaters…



T

steady diet

I'll let you know up front that you'll be reading and listening to a steady diet of Obama for the next 12 days. It's my blog and it's very important to me - feel free to come back after November 4th, I'm not getting paid by the visitor. This is the difference between the idea of hate and division, and a life of hope and dreams. Let it ring, if you will.

Love to all.

t

a plea?

The Eleven hit the (early) absentee-in-person voting place this afternoon. As far as our county is concerned she qualifies because she works in the District and traffic, the two hours of transit throughout the day, means she can vote early. I can vote early because I’ll be working in another county as an Elections Officer on Election Day. We’re done - our man leads 2 to 0. No one will be visiting us now that the database shows us as having voted. I’ll give you this as a representation of how important this election is to many people. Obviously, the reasons you may have for voting for anyone is a wholly personal decision: taxes, the economy, immigration, marriage, foreign policy, etc., but there’s no doubt that the immense emotion involved this year is staggering. I, for one, firmly believe that we aren’t playing on a level playing field in America – in whatever area you might imagine – and what comes as pure emotion can be stunning.

T

hello. how my i be of assistance?

Yesterday morning I discovered that our Verizon internet connection had gone, in the military vernacular, tits up. I didn’t have time to rassle with it in the morning so I waited until the afternoon to take it by the scruff of the neck and shake the life from it.

(As a side story about scruffs and necks: a big, black, tomcat has decided over the last few nights that it likes our house. We’ve discovered him on and under the table the last two mornings and we’re not quite sure how to keep the little freeloader out of the house. The cats have a cat door and he apparently considers it an open invitation to join our little family.)

We’ve had internet issues before but they were initiated by running and stomping children screaming through the wood-floored den where the connection and cables reside. Since the wall jack is behind some bookshelves there was a tendency for the slamming toes and heels to shimmy the connection loose. So, I pulled out the bookshelves after first staring moronically at the lights on the thingamajig and gave everything the old on/off/in/out/powercyle/reset once over; this analytical thinking and action amounted to a total of zero internet. Right, I’ll give Verizon a call. Funny you should ask about that. We have no phone books and I have no bills because my entire Verizon life is online. I realized I’d have to go old school and call information on the phone in order to get a number that’d get me started on the road back to the World Wide Web. On my second call to information I finally get an 800 number that must bode well for my mission. As I stumble through the first automated menu (which is hell bent on me entering the Verizon phone number I’m calling about, even though I don’t have Verizon phone service) I finally arrive at Blockhead #1’s headset. I explain to her that I only have Verizon Internet – no phone, no 200 channels of hypnotic cable, nothing – and it’s stopped working and I just need to figure out what’s happened. She sends me to the Tech Support line where I come across the only person who knows anything. He’s able to find my account via some tech support alchemy and tells me that there was a disconnection notice that morning for my account and that’s why I have no Internet. He lets me know that I need to talk to billing to sort it out. Right-o. He transfers me to billing but instead I end up at sales. To best summarize the next two hours of my life I’ll tell you this: something happened with my auto-payment/billing and my Internet has been disconnected. What I want to do is find out what happened, how I can give them money, check the billing details, and turn my Internet back on. The offices I end up speaking with amongst the two hours of being on hold are these: wireless, landline, wireless, tech support, sales, billing, landline, collections, billing, wireless, and collections. I’m not kidding. I finally snap at the collections lady who tells me I need to make a payment via the computerized payment line – it’s $40! – and then call her back with the confirmation number. FINE!!! I make the payment and call her number back only to be spit into the same automated menu/queue for the 15th time. Shit. When I finally get to Blockhead #16 she’s the worse of the lot. I relay what I’ve done and she decides it would be best to transfer me to the number I just dialed that brought me to her. She tells me I need sales since I need to open a new account. The next sentences out of my mouth aren’t fit for my docile readers and you know I’m not much for holding back the profanity. I slam down my phone – or close the cell as we do these days – and look about for anyone to slay. Fortunately, no one is nearby. As a corollary to what’s happening, I’ve had three calls come in from the WonderTwins and their mother. Now, they’ve nothing to do with any of this, I’m not mad at any of them, but I couldn’t answer because I wasn’t going to lose my place in the phone hold-line of hell. After slamming the phone closed I start to call around to see of the World has collapsed and everyone’s decided to call me as a first option. The World didn’t collapse I find out but my lovely is waiting for me to pick her up at the Metro; her sister and mother were merely calling during this same time in order to leave voice mails and whatnot. I get in the car and drive the mile to West Falls to fetch my lawyer gal. Bear in mind, I am probably more angry at that moment than at any time in my life. We're talking…angry. The word doesn’t do me justice. On our way back I give X a rundown of my Verizon drama – it also included every possible profanity known to man – and she took it quite well…for one sitting next to a very angry and agitated bear. I told her we’d have Internet back when I damn well said we’d have Internet back. I think I apologized for all the ranting in her general area, but if I didn’t then I might need to buy her a new dress.

That’s that. Yet, there’s more.

After getting back to the house and unseething, I called back and decided to just be as calm and patient as possible. I explained to the first person, in dulcet, story-reading tones, the story of my day. She takes my confirmation number and enters the payment to my account. She reiterates that I’ll need to open a new contract since it was deactivated and that she’s sending me to someone who can do that for me. Thanks, I say. For the next 45 minutes I go through the entire process as if I were a new customer even though the lovely lady understands what’s led me to this point. As she’s trying to enter a new “connection” date into my new account it keeps telling her the 27th – no sooner. Of course, she recognizes that the central location merely needs to click on my account with a mouse tap and I’ll be back up but she can’t override the system. (There is actually a technician scheduled to come to the Hilltop…for lord knows what.) As she finishing up my account she gets a tech on another line who says he can probably sort it out sometime this evening. We finish our account configurations, say good evening, and go our separate ways. Less then five minutes later my green Internet light illuminates and we’re back in the connected World. How hard could it have been?

Two lessons to pass along and then I’ll let you go:

First, people who work customer service at any company larger than 20 people are going to be clueless, mindless, confused, and uninterested in service about 98% of the time. It’s the nature of the beast.

Second, and I’m generally applying this lesson as a side-light to Barack Obama’s behavior, it’s so hard to not just cut loose on people when they demonstrate incompetence, hatred, stupidity, or any other behavioral defect which hangs so heavily upon them. I was merely trying to get my Internet working and I ended up stark-raving mad at the process. The ability to not lose your marbles is something that graces the very few. To be out there every day for two years while being called a terrorist, a Muslim (!), a socialist, an elitist, unpatriotic, and any other bigoted comment – and to not just breakdown and smack people – is something I’ll never be able to comprehend. It’s truly amazing to watch.

Of course, I didn’t intend this to be an Obama closing but it really was the behavior that flashed before me before I got back on the phone and sorted out my anger and my Internet.

Feel free to leave.

t

can you spare $5?

This whole economic mess involving mortgages, from the point of view of the homeowners, the banks that bought the chicken parts or the original financing companies, became much clearer while I was sitting on the couch last night catching up on the NY Times. I read the paper, I watch debates, I follow what’s what online, I’m pretty well informed – but very few articles have been able to condense any of the issues into such a well-defined set of paragraphs. As the bailout package sits on the back porch doing jack-all we have yet to hear anyone inside the Beltway explain what happened within the markets; what brought about the problems we have and/or why it spun out of control. I’ll worry about the solution on another day. Here’s the NY Times staff editorial that made me call out “what the hell is up with tranching and CMOs?” I didn’t actually think or say that but I did some layman’s research on how this crap works and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist – or economic wonk – to see how fiendishly the system was manipulated. Let’s simplify. I’ve got some money that I want to lend. Not only am I gagging to dole it out but I’ve found some folk over in the District who will are willing to buy these loans after I’ve done the legwork – and it’s for enough money that I’ll turn a profit and be done with worrying about deadbeat loan takers while they get to lap up even more money. I gather up my some of my pals – a few are good with money, a few are bad – and I hook them up with some loans: money here, money there. Let’s say I end up loaning money to ten friend, five of which are the type that either never pay back my money, never buy a round at the bar, or simply don’t have the means to ever pay me back. In fact, in my normal day-to-day relationship with them I’d never expect the money to come back, I’d think it a gift. I give them each $1,000 at interest that would return me something like $1,216 from each of them over four years (that’s 4% compounded over 48 months). This little package of gold would be worth, if every one pays me back, about $12,150 in the end. Of course, I know that the chances of my five loser friends paying me back are nil so the profit isn’t really going to be that $2,150. Fortunately, I have a plan. Remember those big money investors in the district? I’m going to sell all $10,000 worth of loans to them for $11,000 and they get to keep that extra $1,250 that will (no doubt!) come flooding in when the loans are paid back. I take my $1,000 for doing the work and head to Verizon Center for a Caps game and a few beers. The next day, I find ten more folks to play my game…ten more the next day….ten more the next day. I’m working five days a week handing out $1,000 loans to any one who can sign their name and I’m making $20,000 month with no risk because I don’t care about collecting these loans – I just sell them on to my sugar daddies in the District who are making (at least on the books or in their minds) about 25% more than I. Free fucking money all around! Yes! Of course, my five loser friends from my Monday transactions aren’t going to pay back the money they owe…ever. The first five good friends pay back their money – about $6,000 – and the other chuckleheads each manage about $500 ($2,500 total) before moving to California and starting medical marijuana farms. My pals in D.C. now have $8,500 on the table to cover the $11,000 they paid me for this “bundle” of loans. I’m going to guess that a 23% loss on that 11K investment isn’t going to go over too well in the boardroom. If they were losing that much on my Monday transaction just wait until my Wednesday crew’s payments dry up. How about six months from now when I’m just signing up folks standing on the platform at Ballston station. Shoot, six months into this escapade I’ve made about $120,000 by just selling all this bad paper to the folks in the golden city who think they’ll make $250,000 on my work. The problem is that I’ll be keeping my money because I won’t be standing near the inferno when the match is lit and the loans go up in a blaze of glory. The loans they paid $120K for will be worth something less than $100K and their little operation goes under.

There’s some math in there but there isn’t much economic instruction required. Is it a very simple example of how the mortgage crisis went to crap? Yes. Is that what was happening? Yup. No one ever imagined that the house of cards would collapse – it’s the Black Swan syndrome. When we look at it now it seems comical that the “smartest guys in the room” would continue to operate while jumping up and down for joy on what was clearly a shallow mooring. But you know what? What I really hate, and what the Times editorial made salient, it this: the ones giving out the loans knew those loans would probably never be paid back. They didn’t care because once they sold them along to another “investor” they were clear of the problem. They were deliberately deceiving both sides in an unregulated market; not only screwing the home buyers, who aren’t totally innocent in this debacle, they were screwing the investors (also not innocents). Picture someone walking into a bar and sucker punching two dudes in the face and then walking away while they mistakenly fight each other. What a fucking bastard.

And so ends Todd’s economic firestorm.

Have a nice day.

for the love of...

I did my door-to-door work today and came across a few folks who are still undecided. No problem, I say, here's some literature for you to review. There's a short pause before they say this...every time, "We've had three or four folks come by this week...we just don't know." Right. The reason canvassers come by - from either party - with a clipboard and lists is to write down where you stand on the election. We take notes. If you say you're undecided, we'll come back - that's how it works. The easiest way to avoid someone knocking on your door is to make a decision. Of course, what this reminded me of as I walked down the driveway was The Daily Show skit from Thursday: pitch perfect.



Off to watch the Capitals in D.C.

t

sticks around

I must be getting lazy.

The weekend is upon us and once again the plans seem a bit too busy for my taste. I’ll be canvassing tomorrow morning and then to the Capitals game tomorrow night; X and the boys, and some of H.’s schoolmates, are going to the Maryland Renaissance Festival all day for grog, jousting, and horns o’plenty. I’m working at the USO on Sunday and they’ll all be lying around doing squat. Actually, X will probably be getting her duds ready for her first day’s work as an esquire on Monday. I don’t think there’s anything of great import on the agenda tonight. I think we’ll relax and watch and episode of Foyle’s War.

I have a whiny friend coming to town next month and he’s conveniently timed his visit to align a Capitals game against his favorite team. I’ve been digging around for good seats – I have a single season ticket in the upper level – because he wants to “feel” the action. If he wants to feel the action in D.C. he better be a high-ranking politico to get seats in VIP row A up against the glass. Do we know and high-ranking politicos? Anyway, I’ve located some very nice club-level seats from which we can enjoy the action as the Caps demolish his team. Why spend more money than you have to in order to see your team lose? I’ll be perfectly happy.

In case you’re wondering, I’m getting a little tired of being harassed for being the most favorite human in our new little cat’s world. I didn’t ask for it.

hey

t

almost a doppelganger

The Eleven ran a full Sunday of endless activity. Both boys had group piano lessons, G. had a birthday party to attend followed by playing at a friend’s house, I was out canvassing, X went shopping, and Wondertwin 2 and family came over for dinner about 5pm. Between us, we managed to get everything cooked and ready in about 45 minutes. It was so busy that around 6:45pm X called out to G. who hadn’t been in the house since about 2pm. She’d forgotten to pick him up at his friend’s place an hour earlier and my calling back to her that there was no one of that name in the house tripped the trigger. She let out a combination scream/laugh as we ran out the door to gather up the missing progeny.

I was able to walk home from my canvass turf yesterday and was coming up the street to the Hilltop when I noticed two young folks standing on my porch waiting for anyone to answer the door (the place was empty at that point). As I got to the bottom of the steps I comically (I thought it was comically) yelled at them to get off my damn porch. They turned and down the stairs with little idea what to do about this person yelling at them. I held up my big envelope of Obama turf canvassing material and they immediately relaxed and took a deep breath. The girl looked and me and said that I probably didn’t need the literature they’d left at the door; nope, I think I’ve got my very own pile right here. Considering that I’d ended up at another volunteer’s house earlier in the day it wasn’t really much of surprise. The size and dedication of the volunteer group allows us to cover every street and neighborhood multiple times while following up on previous contacts and undecided voters. The next three weeks will be centered mostly on the Get out the Vote process that’ll make sure everyone knows where to vote and any other requirements for November 4th. The last thing I want to see is people not voting because the numbers look so good right now and maybe they feel as if every vote in Virginia isn’t so important anymore. I’ve got a few weekends left to knock on the doors of northern Virginia.

I'm off to the Caps game in D.C. this evening while the rest of the crowd wanders to some Kung Fu lessons. I'll try to sneak in the house later tonight and avoid any ninja attacks.

t

go, baby, go

Here’s my Sarah Palin entry for this campaign.

Since I made up my mind that I don’t think she’ll be the vice president I’ve been wondering just what her future holds. There are lots of supporters who opine that she’s the future of the Republican Party, in politics, and that in another four years she’ll be around to run for President. I don’t quite see it that way but I think she’ll be hugely popular, regardless. First for the politics part. Before anyone knew her name – or anyone in Alaska knew much about their governor – her approval ratings in Alaska were up around 80%. Since her nomination, those approval ratings in Alaska have fallen to about 65%, depending on the polling source: the big math picture is that approval of her work in Alaska is down nearly 20% (not raw points but as a lost percentage…never mind). I don’t think that she’d win re-election as governor in 2010; in fact, I don’t think she can ever win another state-wide election so the U.S. Senate or House aren’t options – Alaska only has one representative so it’s also a state-wide election. Where does that leave her in two years’ time? I’ll put out a betting line that the perfect landing site for her combination of politics, “betchas”, looks, and blind allegiance will be as host to millions on her own show at Fox News. What’s wrong with lots of money and oodles of loyal followers supporting a Sarah Palin-led nightly gabfest on the fair-and-balanced network? They could very easily tie her show to O’Reilly’s and run a back-to-back programming gauntlet, a la The Daily Show and Colbert: Palin pops in via picture-in-picture towards the end of O’Reilly’s show and gives us a preview of what’s on tap for her thirty minutes of airtime. I’d even offer up the possibility of “The Drill with Sarah Palin” as a working title. Buy stock now.

t

check the box

I think all my loyal readers are already registered to vote. I should have pushed out a voter registration deadline warning (Monday, October 6th in most states) just to make sure we were all good to go. If you aren’t registered to vote then I’ll take some of the blame for not alerting you to deadlines. As a public service announcement for those going to the polls on November 4th I’ll offer up some generic advice since I can’t specifically cover every state’s laws: make sure you know the requirements to vote on Election Day. Do you need a picture ID? Your voter registration card? Both? If you’ve moved, and I’m looking at you college students whose addresses may have changed, is your information current on the voter rolls? Most states require that you show identification (varying by states) and give them your current address – not what’s on your license or photo ID but your actual current address. In most cases, if you’re address has changed from what’s on the rolls, yet you are living in the same precinct, you should be allowed to vote and will then be asked to complete a change of address form. If you’ve moved to another precinct you may be directed to that precinct to vote. Those working the polls may or may not repeat the information aloud for the party monitors present – don’t panic either way, those are just the rules. If you aren’t sure about what you need to vote, or if you’re uncertain about whether your address is correct, here’s a link to every state election office. Hit the Web for a few minutes and make sure everything’s cool. If you have questions or need to validate something then call your State or County election board and ask them – it’s their job to answer your questions no matter how busy they are these days.

It is mind boggling that we are still reading articles like this on October 9th of an election year. If you have issues and don’t know what to do then give me a shout and I’ll do whatever research I can for your state or county and help you out.

Lastly, the polls are going to be swamped on Election Day. I know I’ll be getting my polling station set-up at 5am and won’t leave until my workers and I have the precinct results confirmed and reported to the county – that’ll be sometime between 9pm and 9:30pm. We don’t get paid a lot for a 17-hour day but most are doing it because we like to give every one the voting rights they deserve. Please be patient as you’re standing in line. Most states allow certain things in line to keep your sanity: iPods, newspapers, books, etc. The basic rule seems to be that you can’t be doing anything that is noisy: most will not allow you to talk on a phone though some allow texting. Very few allow political shirts, buttons, stickers, hats, or banners inside 50-feet of a polling entrance.

I know it’s not much, but if you have friends who have moved or aren't sure about voting procedures...pass it along. If you know someone that needs a ride to the polls then offer up some help.

T.

happy meal

I considered a long diatribe on the differences and spectrum variances of liberalism, conservatism, socialism, and communism that would summarize what the Eleven babbled about between the end of the debate and bed last night. I know you’re yelling at your monitor in disgust that I haven’t produced this stirring piece – consider yourselves lucky. I decided to do food instead.

Early on in this kibbutz experiment – way back in the N. Park Dr. days – I was put off by the fact that the boys would mostly sniff-sniff, or lick-lick with a lizard-like tongue at dinner food no matter what I produced. It bothered me quite a bit because my personal issues back then were two-fold: first, I’m not making two separate dinners, and secondly, the question in my mind that asked why they were such little heathens. The heathens question was answered after more than too many encounters with the “I’m not hungry. Can I have a bowl of cereal?” dinner conversation. The most important aspect to the solution was that they, and most kids of that age (including my daughters), don’t care for dishes that are too complex: they want to be able to visually identify what’s going into their precious little gobs. Fair enough. What I’ve managed over the last six-to-twelve months is the building of a limited number of foods they’re willing eat. That small food pyramid is based partly on their likes and dislikes, and partly on how easy the food is to concoct while I’m cooking real dinner for the adults. Our dinner table last night was what brought this all to mind: wild rice stuffed squash for us (a stuffing of onions, garlic, carrots, celery, sweet red peppers, oregano, thyme, sliced almonds, and gruyere), and pan-grilled salmon fillets and homemade mashed potatoes for them. It went swimmingly. Of course, if I give them the mashed every night they’d probably eat just about anything else chucked in front of them. On occasion they’ll eat big people food – on Monday night we had a woodsman’s rigatoni that they managed to gobble up with little fanfare. It’s a work in progress.

Monday night was an interesting story at the dinner table – beyond the aforementioned rigatoni. The boys had a friend over who apparently eats nothing but take-out Chinese, Taco Bell, and Pollo Loco. How or why his eating habits have come to this isn’t as frightening as what it’s done to any idea he has of real food or a meal. We set him a place at the table and dished up pasta and a very basic salad but his ability to even consider it as food was nil. He looked at it and literally said something along the lines of “that’s disgusting”, said he wasn’t hungry, and got up and walked away. Again, I’m not so much bothered by the disgusting/not hungry/walking away checklist as I am by the fact that here’s a 12-year old kid whose eating habits are so numbed that there’s not even an inkling in his mind to ask what had been served, what’s in it, or that he might even give it a try. It was a pretty uncomfortable situation.

We’re doing asparagus and caramelized leek soup with fresh bread tonight.

I’d like to give a shout out to Rockbrook Elementary School in Omaha *wink*

t

knock knock

There's clearly someone ready for this troop to walk in after his year in Iraq. Before we sit through another hour of name calling we should just watch how happy dogs can be.



See? I can do feel good.

t

nevermind. i'll stay on this island

It’s taken some long, sideways glances and deep thoughts to sort out what it is about boys and doing stuff. This thesis is not merely an indictment of my two test subjects on the Hilltop; they are merely the most visible and easiest to study on a daily basis. Not only are they not the only brace of daft children currently plying this trade – they merely represent what was no doubt true for a great many children of the past, myself excluded, of course...

The battle that must rage in their head whenever a choice is presented that offers two things: first, something they would like to have or do; second, actual physical movement required to either have or do that thing. Here’s an example:

X: “H, would you like to go to the video store and pick out a DVD?”
H: “Cool! I want to get see the new Miyazaki movie! Yes.”
X: “All right. Let’s head out.”
H: “Hmm. Do I have to put on my shoes?”
X: “Yes. You’ll have to go in the store to find a DVD. You’ll need shoes.”
H: “Hmm. Are we going to drive there?”
X: “Yes. Why?”
H: “How long will it take?”
X: “I don’t know, ten minutes or so…”
H: “How long to get back?”
Todd: “You’re laying on the couch staring at the ceiling!”
H: “What?”
X: “We’ll be gone for a total of thirty minutes.”
H: “Nevermind, I don’t want a movie”
X: “Fine. We’ll be back in a bit.”
H: (calling from beyond) “Can you find me a movie while you’re there?”

The problem is quiet riveting and the human nature appalling. What we’re asking ourselves – and I’m now including most men in this generalization – is this: is the caloric output of putting on my underwear really worth the embarrassment of getting caught walking to the kitchen buck naked for a glass of juice? From that the decision one no doubt falls towards not spending critical life energy bending over and putting on the underwear. It’s merely a skip to the point where we decide we’ll just have to survive while actually dying of thirst in the warm bed. And with that, an actual conversation from yesterday afternoon that began as we stopped to talk to H. while he was walking home from the Metro and we were driving to the grocery store.

X: (rolling down window) “We’re going to the store. We’ll be back shortly.”
H: “I want to ride along.” (climbs in the backseat) “I’m DYING of thirst!”
X: “We don’t have any water, why didn’t you just walk home?”
H: “I thought this was a better option for water.”
X: “Sorry, pickle.”
(Galactica cruises to the Balducci’s parking lot.)
H: (looks up from a book) “Where are we?”
X: “At the store. Do you want to come in?”
H: “Is there water in there?”
X: “There might be a drinking fountain.”
H: “Hmm.” (wheels turning, calories considered….)
X: “Henry? Are you coming in? I thought you were dying of thirst.”
H: “Hmm. I think I’ll just stay here.”
X: “Fine.”
H: (calling from beyond) “Can you bring me some water?”

The prosecution rests.

t

cutting the wire

I know I’m way behind the curve on The Wire since I rely on DVDs and not TV. I’ve put on some Pogues to write this after hearing The Body of an American at McNulty’s ‘wake’. It’ll keep the mood.

Halfway through the final double-episode I felt it all slipping away. David Simon created an entire series based on the most flawed cast of characters in TV history. I really felt that as it was wrapping up – concocted murders, illegal taps, complete misbehavior – that we should have just watched each of them trotted off to jail, with the exception of Daniels who should have stood his ground and fucked everyone. That would be my preference. In that sole respect, I think he wanted an end that was too much of refined finish upon the grime of the series. Consider that picking nits. What I did reaffirm during the final season was that the creation of State Senator Clay Davis (played brilliantly by Isiah Whitlock Jr.) was one of TV’s greatest moments, ever. I’ll also never get over Omar getting done by a 10-year old, in a convenience store, just as you felt he was about to off Marlo. As I looked back on Omar’s end I realized it was really the only conclusion, wasn’t it? But, I still hated it.

Even though HBO has taken some hits lately it’s cool think that between the Sopranos, The Wire, Deadwood, and Six Feet Under, they redefined good TV. It seems like every basic cable channel has followed the lead. Putting the bolts to crappy broadcast TV feels pretty good.

I’d seem like a horrible loser if I didn’t at least give a kick at the Cubs. I don’t think they could have gagged worse than they have in the first two games. I, like Harry Carey, always think there’s hope against all hope. Maybe a sneaky win tonight in LA will start a roll, but, the odds are so long. I’ll be watching.

t.

dressing on the side

                                                       (Woodward/Newman 1958)
I like the moving pictures. I liked Paul Newman. For some reason, my exposure to him was limited to a few instances pretty early in life: seeing The Sting when I was young – maybe 8, and not at all getting “the sting”, as it was; Butch Cassidy (“You think you put enough dynamite in there Butch?”); and charity. It wasn’t until well on in life that I learned more about him and listened to, and read, interviews with him. He always seemed to be a headstrong kind of guy that never gave two shits what anyone thought of him; you began to think he had both “rebel” and “liberal” tattooed across his back. I also always appreciated the amazing amount of time he spent before the world’s glare while being able to maintain a perfect sense of dignity. He and Joanne Woodward were probably the grandest Hollywood couple of the last half-century. It’s hard to say that it wasn’t a full life, or that we’ll miss him, because we’ll always have him on film and that’s all we ever really knew, wasn’t it? I think I’ll go back and check out some of the films of his that I’ve never seen. I don’t know that X will watch with me; I don’t think she's quite as enamored of him as I was...she's enamored of me, silly girl. That is one good-looking guy.

t

looking forward

It's like looking back at my elementary school picture, isn't it? I'll be short. Those fine, upstanding gentlemen are the 1908 Chicago Cubs. The last in a line of three consecutive championship teams. Tonight begins the homestretch toward what I can only hope will be the first championship in a century. I shouldn't complain so much, really, because my Cubs' consciousness only runs back about 30 years and my greatest crushing blow was losing the 1984 NLCS to the San Diego Padres. There's been only one other, 2003, that came as close to breaking my heart. Shoot, my parents, both Chicagoland natives were 9 and 11 when the Cubbies last appeared in the World Series. My dearest aunt should be here to see this if it happens - an Old Style in one hand, a Salem in the other, and WGN radio turned up; she hated Harry Carey all those years and refused to listen to his 'lovable' babbling. The radio broadcast was on for the 1st - 3rd innings and 6th - 9th; Harry used to go over to radio for the middle innings and she's just reverse the process and listen for an hour to the TV announcers. She was a Northside original. 

It's a longer post-season than it used to be and they've got to hold it together for 11 wins over the next month - 11 out of 19 to be called champions again. This is certainly the best team they've had in my lifetime but I'll be holding my breath every night they're going at it. There's little that will get an American boy going like watching his baseball team try to win the World Series - it doesn't happen often, the chances rare.

Maybe I should walk out Melrose, turn right on Broadway, and walk up to Addison like I used to do in the Summer. 

Hope.

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calling a shovel a spade

X headed down to G’s elementary school last night to volunteer as a gardening troop. If there’s a way to entice her anywhere you’ll want to bring up some digging, some dirt, plants, and any available horde of weeds. After the kids were in bed last night she told me about another little boy who was gardening right near her; an H clone. As she was talking with him, and rending weeds, she learned that he was half-English on his mother’s side; which, of course, answered for her the nagging question about the spade he had brought from home. With his father nearby she idly commented that his being part-English explained why he had an English spade. I got the impression that the father was quite curious as to why this loon knew the dif between an English spade and a shovel…or vice versa. As she’s telling me this little yarn I cannot keep myself from laughing – another perfect story of her “phone a friend” knowledge. At that point she reached across the sofa and gave me the “shut up and quit making fun of me” whack. Chuckles all around. And then, she starts in on how English spades are flat and square while shovels, “which are different, you know,” are round with more depth. She can’t stop herself.

The cats have decided the place is all right now that they have the freedom to come and go as they wish. Maybe happy isn’t the right turn of phrase; they now look at us as if we were peasants merely here to support the crown. Cats can be cold.

I got a new iPod touch in the mail today. I’ll push my older Nano into my ever-growing iPod museum – someday I’ll charge admission for the public to paw all of my originals. The fact that I can now sit on the couch and check e-mail, sports, etc. with the WiFi-capable jewel simply amazes me. Of course, I’m dumbstruck by the whole photo negative thing.

Nevermind.

Hey to all.

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detour. turn left.

I'm giving all of you some free advice. I'm also putting pressure on new blogger Bryce. You might remember my mumblings from months gone by about his adventures in life: cooking school in Ireland, wanderings about the isles, 'internship' in a lovely London restaurant. I still damn him but at least he's decided to blog about cooking now that he's back and settled in Omaha. He's very euro: beware. I've already gathered up my needs for the yoghurt recipe so there'll be a review in the near term. Here's his new blog. Bookmark it. Enjoy. I'm sure the three people that read my blog will kick up his visitor counter.

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nothing but demanding

Does it mean you’re old if you zoom or enlarge a Word document as you’re typing? It sort of feels like putting on the big Coke-bottle glasses when the damn kids come to the door selling all their goddamn school stuff. Oops…that slipped out.

As mentioned at some point during the week, we have two cats who've become lodgers (or squatters) here on the Hilltop. X found them on craigslist after a failed attempt to get a kitten from some freak show out in West Virginia. Apparently, there’s a mystery man who gathers up kittens from this ‘person’ in WVa. and offers them to the families at H.’s new hippies-through-the-backdoor school. After that fell through we somehow ended up with these two chuckleheads – I think they’ve been officially named Pumpkin and Lemon but I refer to them simply as cat and cat. Cat the Younger (and smarter) is sitting on my desk as I type and checking out the happenings beyond our front porch. I finally got her to settle onto her little pillow after she harassed me for about thirty minutes of non-stop petting. Kids and pets; you’ll never be rid of them.

I got a call from my last military supervisor last night. She retired earlier in the year and was calling to touch base and offer me work. She calls it work, I call it a kick in my shins. It would work out to a huge chunk of money, thirty-sevens days off a year (I now get 14), and a small, hip company. Unfortunately, the work is in Austin, Texas and relocating isn’t in our plans. What’s good to know from someone who hires and manages contracts is just how much more money is floating around the government contracting business. I’ll keep that bit of fluff in my hip pocket.

This morning’s Farmers Market is leading me to some Spanish eggplant, heirloom tomato, and feta dish over couscous. We’ll manage.

Cubs v. Dodgers this week!

I give you this in parting:

"And today President Bush met with John McCain and Barack Obama. He did take a moment to show them the best place in the Oval Office to hide porn. But McCain showed up without his running mate, Sarah Palin, which is a shame because she has a lot of experience with banking and financial matters. You know, she lives right next to a bank." --Jimmy Kimmel

Love to all.

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'conductor'

There are two new CDs coming out shortly and I’m in the mood to push both for similar reasons: girls gone rock. Based on what I’ve heard from both the new Lucinda Williams and Jolie Holland CDs they’re both shaking off some doom-and-gloom, at least musically, and turning up the tempo and volume. Lucinda, who’s suddenly blasting through releases, sounds much happier in the rock n’ roll place than the grinding corner she’s stood on for any number of years. It sounds like the CD might actually fly by while I’m cooking instead of requiring a deeper and darker venue to listen. Jolie Holland must have been hanging around Lu when she worked on her new song – off the noir and up on the volume. Holland, who we saw a few years ago, was one of the original Be Good Tanyas but moved onto a solo career after at least a portion of the first Tanyas album was complete. I think it’s her voice on the CD versions of “Littlest Birds” and "Lakes of Ponchatrain”. She also gets due reward for being a part of my collection of redheaded singing angels which includes Patty Griffin and Neko Case. That’s the music for you. Leave me be.

The Eleven hit the Kennedy Center for the opera last night. The Pearl Fishers by Bizet was on the agenda and our reviews married up well with something like a B or B+ as the final result. Of course, I’ve got such a limited range of opera viewing and technical understanding that I might as well be trying to identify whether a fossil came from the late Triassic, late Cretaceous, or late Maastrichtian period. “Oh, right. I think that B flat sung by the tenor in the fifth stanza was a bit off. It also seemed like the harpist was a bit too adagietto in support.” That’s the kind of like the junk I say when I’m trying to impress people with my knowledge of engines or other machinery. Here, you can read the WaPo review. I just like to watch any performance as long as it doesn’t put me to sleep.

I’ll be watching the debate online tonight with a generally hopeful demeanor and a bottle of Maker’s Mark.

It’s Friday.

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matt

I thought that in the interest of some light-hearted hopes I'd simply post this little video created by Matt. I don't think anything, outside of my family and chick, has made me smile so much in a very, very long time.


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