mellow drama

I love three-day weekends. X is off at work - not required, as in dress-up the office-is-open required - but stuff that needs to be done. I've fed the hordes, made a strawberry/rhubarb pie with fresh stuff from the DuPont Circle Farmers Market, and I have a a couple of loaves of potatoe bread rising. One of those will get turned into small, thin toast bits and used for a tapas competition I've entered at school tomorrow night. Since it's allegedly an actual Spanish tapas competition (I know...), I'm adding a romesco sauce, asparagus tips, Manchego cheese, and a light anchovy-olive oil. I've some experience in Barcelona so I'm sticking to the tried-and-true of Catalan cuisine. Who knows? It's also pizza night so I'll be back in the flour in the not-too-distant future.

The 51 has been about on a strange, cultural weekend. On Saturday afternoon we headed into D.C. to stock up on cards, notes, and paper at Pulp DC and then headed to Shirlington to see Kites (NYTimes review here). I'd read a bit about it, as well as heard some review on NPR, so I was pretty intrigued by a mad mix of Bollywood and Hollywood action films. They did it well: action scenes, the boy-girl romance you'll remember from Slumdog, dance scenes (though they edited out a few for the American release), and a strangely happy ending. Was it great? No. Was it entertaining? Definitely. I would have liked the extra dance scenes. Last night we headed into D.C. for dinner and theatre: Rosa Mexicano and Gruesome Playground Injuries (at Woolly Mammoth), respectively (WaPo review of Gruesome, here). Mixed reviews on everything; Rosa wasn't as standardly good as normal and the waitress was inept, at best. The show, a two-actor play/story about growing up, depending on another, and the tragedy of life. It grew on me as the evening progressed but I still have it rolling around in my head. Maybe you'll get a later critique, maybe not.

The older two only have about a week of school left at the New School; I have no idea what to do with them for the two weeks between end of school and our trip to Stowe. It may involve them sleeping in and doing a whole lot of nothing.

While I took the gang swimming at Ft Myer yesterday, I stopped at the wall that runs throughout the base and took a picture. There are over 300,000 soldiers, sailors, marines, and airman buried at the National Cemetery - a flag for each one on Memorial Day.



t

i've cracked it

Since the summer seems to already be clicking right along, and our Stowe trip is earlier this year, I finally got on the ball and started sorting out a hotel for our mid-drive stop at the end of the month. The halfway point, from here to Dummerston, is near Port Jervis, NY – sitting romantically amidst the tri-state backwoods. Of course, for those that are willing to trust their luck to the I-95 corridor on a holiday weekend I say this – nuts. We always go the back route that takes us a bit west, and then north through Harrisburg, PA, before finally swinging back east and eventually up to Hartford, CT and onto Vermont. I call it the trip along all the I-Eighty numbered roads. I think (per the computer map guy – he knows who he is…) the trip is an hour longer by mileage but with little worry about horrid traffic. I’m in.

Last trip up we stayed at this little-piece-of-Americana place on the border that I thought was perfectly acceptable. X thought not, as relayed to me this morning via the “blah” face and voice, so I was off once again to attempt an overnight bivouac. Also, with one extra 14-year-old on the trip we probably need two rooms so my mission was that much harder. I’ve sorted out a Microtel with uniformly good reviews for the journey up – two rooms, hopefully adjoining – at a good rate: consider it settled. What’s most interesting about reading reviews about hotels, and something that is par for the course – are the crazed reviews that oftentimes proclaim “the filthiest” or “absolutely worst” hotel “I’ve ever encountered”. I have my own divining rod when reading multiple reviews so I’ve a good feeling for whether or not the writer is a crazed whackjob, or not. For instance, a review that downgrades a motel because the guest was snowed-in doesn’t carry much weight with me. It’s like the blast at the USPS delivery system when reviewing a product you bought at Amazon and then giving the actual product one star. Sorry, I’ve wandered. This review caught my eye for a motel that I decided to pass on after reading some not-so-glistening reviews.

This hotel threw away my special shoe horn to my $150.00 dress shoes that [were] purchased 2 weeks ago. They also discarded the special hat filler to use for flying [so] as to not to crush my new hat purchased 4 weeks ago when cleaning the room. They did say they were sorry, but did not take any discount or reimbursement for these items. I would suggest they use a little more care for personal items.

Personal items? Who is this guy, Hercules Poirot? Did they also misplace your Dapper Dan moustache wax? This guy (or gal?) clearly has some issues with maintaining a timeline on purchased items – and clearly they did some shopping at the Olde Englande Shoppe at some point during their last whaling vacation off the Cape. To be fair, if that’s possible at this point, I can understand some type of shoe horn that is extra special – long handle? Solid ivory? Made from the skull of a walrus – but it can’t actually be for a specific pair of shoes, right? They all go on the same way. I think the “…to my $150.00 dress shoes” is suppose to be the ringer here. The shoe horn is just a shoe horn and, new shoes or not, may well have been special. I don’t know what to make of the hat filler. Does anyone travel these days with filler for their derby? “Hold on, let me take of fmy hat, put the filler in, then store it neatly in this hat box I’ve also been toting around. Wait, not done yet, I need to store my cane and monocle, also…”

I know that cleaners at hotels and motels can be a bit nonchalant with your stuff but I might give them a pass on throwing out a little plastic shoe horn (there’s no way they threw out your granddad’s brass-and-cherry wood, 17th century shoehorn), and a pile of butcher paper taped into a ball that you claim as hat filler.

Mental.

rock n' roll youth

Back in my youth, my wild youth, I was the rhythm guitar player in the greatest air guitar band of all time: The Tubes. I know what you're asking yourself, "Aren't The Tubes a real band?" - yes, they were. They were a theatrical rock band of epic proportions led by the great (Omaha native) Fee Waybill. We (Todd, Skip, Jeff, and I - yes, two Todds) were enthralled with The Completion Backward Principle album and ended up translating our Quarters-playing, skirt-chasing, air-guitar rocking ideals into a band that, simply put, rocked. And rocked hard. We did air guitar festivals around the Omaha area, we did entire band sets with props and crew, we scored...plenty. After our first outing, we moved to full-on jumpsuits, punk-slit glasses, necklaces, and killer equipment. Back in 19-and-82 (or so...) you couldn't air guitar with actually equipment - you had to fabricate your gear and rock like a star simply based on your moves and your thrash. As you can see above, when thrashing was required, thrashing happened - that shot was me at the Howard St. Tavern (RIP) in Omaha in about 1983 or 1984 - rock n' roll can be fuzzy. This was no doubt during a rousing version of Talk to Ya Later...lordy, lordy, lordy.

What's brought this all on is a package of stuff that Melissa sent back from Omaha with L.: including, most importantly, three VHS tapes (how to play) of live performances from festivals, Skip's basement, and the environs of his foosball-equipped basement. I do believe that every piece of tape was from our pre-drinking days that were made up nothing by (original) Mt. Dew, foosball, ping-pong, and the original Atari game station.

I. am. old.

t

p.s. I believe on VHS tape includes the band in the guise of The Cars, The Romantics, my stunning turn as Rick Springfield, and a (should be censored) version of Steve Wonder and Paul McCartney doing Ebony and Ivory. Skip and I will NEVER be appointed to the bench with that video.

that'll work

Build Blog has moved along to assessing the qualities of some cardboard forts. I love this stuff.

…“design paralysis”. Grade: F

L. is in Omaha; dropped her off at the security checkpoint at about 6am this morning. Strange to see her wander off unaccompanied. I may have been giving her too many details – as I do – particularly when I yelled “Gate 9!” to her as I walked away and she waved me off. Not a goodbye wave, an “off” wave.

X pointed out this morning that she’s concerned about the lettuce and the fennel. They may need to be switched in the garden plot. I was thinking the same thing.

I’ve added a new word to my list that I don’t want to hear in meetings anymore: efforts.

“During our previous efforts…”
“For this effort…”
“We are looking forward to other efforts…”

I’ll let you leave.

new script from ed wood

Another quick bit from X’s travels to the organic farm last weekend with her troop. As relayed to me, there happened a conversion that passed something like this between Farmer A and my doll:

X: “I’d love to take home some of your nettles.”

Farmer: “Why would you want nettles?”

X: “Well, you know, I love nettle soup.”

Farmer: (strange look)

X: (zips it)

Now, what happens as she telling me this story is a continuing narrative and stage directions about why she suddenly realized the farmer thought she was whack-a-doodle and that it was best, at that moment, to keep the depths of that maze under wraps. As she continues telling me what she really wanted to say, to further the exchange, this is what happened:

X: “What I really meant was watercress soup and I just got confused, sort of…”

Me: (staring blithely at her)

X: “The problem is that watercress soup really is quite common.”

Me: “Really?”

X: “Yes. They served it everyday in the Buttery whilst I was at Cambridge.”

Me: “Ah. Good thing you didn’t continue along your lines of defense for nettle soup while you were gabbing with Farmer Jason. I’m pretty sure your time spent studying Chinese poetry at Cambridge wouldn’t have added anything to his understanding of you.”

I swear.

All the kids will be out-and-about this weekend: L. to Omaha (Th-Su) and the boys to Wisconsin (Sa-Mo). We didn’t really plan it, merely the way of the world.

t

is the word....that you heard...

I was over at the Border’s earlier today – writing out a few recipes, if you must know – and there were a couple of young guys, maybe 24, having what amounted to a job interview. From what I could gather, as if I could help it, was that one was applying for a job, or volunteer, position for a summer day-camp-thing that involved teaching and playing chess for children. They went through the usual, if somewhat stilted, quick array of questions (Where did you go to school? Where have you worked? What are you doing next fall? What do you think of Philadelphia?, etc.) before getting to the meat. “So,” says interviewer, “what’s your chess background?” Now, I’m really interested and a million things go through my mind in that few seconds of dead time. Maybe this kid is a ringer. Maybe he’s never played chess at all and is simply hoping to find work in this economy. Maybe he’s Josh Waitzkin. (Well, he couldn’t be Josh because he’s too young to be him, isn’t he? (he’s not) and he doesn’t look at all like him.) Maybe he’s from India, is a chess master, and he’s simply trying to pass along his wisdom and skill so some Daniel Larusso kid. It turns out the guy lets him know that he plays often enough, online and with his brother. I’m not sure what to make of this chess CV but it doesn’t matter: the interviewer drops the interview bomb: “Well, of course, we should play ten games or so.” Yikes. Out comes a board and I hear pieces being set-up for the interview showdown (“The Borders War!” See how I did that?). What will happen? Is this guy just lying about his skills? After the chess hush falls over the Borders coffee area I hear four or five moves, some deep breathing, and then this, “Well, that’s good enough. You know how to play.” What? What happened? Was application boy all over chess club man’s fortress that quickly? Was there embarrassment on the horizon? I needed answers. I got none. I think it might have come down to this: moved one pawn one space, moved one pawn two spaces, did a diagonally thing, and made the horsey do an L. Done deal. Ten games? What was this? The World Championship?

I forgot to mention from our Eastern Market trip on Saturday that L. pointed out to me how often I open with the phrase, “I’ll tell you what…” when shopping / ordering / involving sellers at outdoor markets, farmers markets, and my cheesaries. I told her she reads too much. That little quip didn’t actually do much…

There was a new lion cub born at the National Zoo this morning and I’m only using that event so I can steal a photo of two of the adult lions that reside there. The lioness in this shot has a lot of Lemon the Slayer in her. Or, vice versa.

just a nick

On my sports front - the Caps have locked up the 23-year-old Nicklas Backstrom to a nice, long, 10-year contract. I couldn't be happier, in a sports way. Well, I could but that involves a Stanley Cup.

t

rock market

The 51 headed down the walk to the Metro and on to the Eastern Market this morning. X and kids were off to save a river in the wilds of Virginia. Apparently, the farmers show up to see just what these Buddists were up to - the farmers trotted off thinking the Buddists with pickaxes and saws were badass. I'll let her pass that along.

A few things to pass along. First, the Slobberbone Web site has suddenly been redesigned which bodes well for the greatest bar band of all time getting back in the studio and on the road. I've brought it up before, and I'll do it again, nobody but nobody in this generation is a better songwriter - and no band is better in a bar - than Brent Best and Slobberbone. Great stuff. Even if it's for only one more turn, that turn will be gold. It's hard to lockdown any really good video of the guys rocking but I can give you some Brent doing one of the greatest songs ever, Robert Cole. The song is loosely based on a piece by the great author, Larry Brown. Kills.



I picked up a few more 1970s cookbooks at Capital Hill Books today. These were a hat trick of the Time Life International series: Middle Eastern, Italy, and Spain and Portugal. What's interesting is that they were $6, $7, and $8; they were all in the same condition so I'm trying to sort out the pricing. What's interesting about a lot of these series' is that we've dumbed down ethnic cuisine over the last 30 years and these books give some solid skills and deep recipes from the old days. You get history, biography, and cooking all in one.

My second push is for Sarah's graduation from her Vet Tech program on the 20th. A much smarter 21-year-old than I ever was. She did her first year at ASU before deciding that it wasn't for her - the college thing. She turned to her first love and then ran through it like nothing. She wants to go on to Vet school after this and she's laid a nice path in that direction; quite admirable. I imagine she'll work for a few years or so and then apply to move along her career path. As with most of my lot, I've not been as close as I should have been over the years but that doesn't dull my pride.

We're doing a belated dinner for Amy tomorrow that will have langistinos, a huge organic leg of lamb, and pie tips. You do what you can do...

t

(My cat on my new chair)

Of course, he’s using the worst-case scenario to prove a point on that end of the spectrum but there’s certainly the converse on the other end: I’ll call them the home flippers and bankers. Don’t worry, the money will never stop flowing…

We had a logic discussion on another puzzle that was presented by G.’s teacher and that the kids may have understood better than she. I reminds me of something pointed out in the article – we aren’t great with probabilities. Here are the basics from G’s class problem:

1. Two players will participate. One player will have all the odd numbers and the other will have the even numbers.

2. The winner will be the player that matches (odd or even) the final total/sum of two rounds of a random number generator.

3. The first round/iteration of the random number generator will be completely random. This result will be seen but does not mean a player has won anything.

4. The second iteration of the generator is programmed to select an even number two of every three ‘spins’.

5. All of these parameters are known by both players prior to the game beginning.

6. The prize is $20.

7. To play you pay $10 for the privilege.

8. There is no option after the first roll – you can’t vacate the game and have your money back.

9. The only question being asked here is this: Is the game a fair, or equally likely to be won, by either player when they pay their $10 to participate prior to the first number?

On the lighter side, I love Steve Nash. Always have. Having played my share of basketball in my youth I understand a few things. First, when you get to a certain level of repetitive play you sort out angles, distances, and power – or thrust, or whatever ratio we need to use – when shooting. We’ve seen it a million times at the NBA level when players show the innate ability to know where they are, spatially, and where the basket is. Second, for players who are pure shooters there are constants on the court and nothing moves: the three-point line, the free throw line, the basket. What I would anecdotally believe is that if you blindfolded a scorer after putting him at his chosen point along the three-point arc, that he would probably hit the rim 3 or 4 times out of 5 simply because the muscle memory when shooting from point x is pretty much hardwired into his system. But, if you give that guy only one eye – or, take one away – the lack of translation from the optics to your muscles will override what your muscles already know to be true. I don’t know how many shots these guys took during the shoot but, rest assured, NBA players probably only throw up an air ball, when unguarded on a gym floor, once in every 5,000 shots.


Lastly, for the week: they’ve decided to implement a Barnes Dance crosswalk at 7th and H St. NW in D.C. beginning this week. If you hop over and read the story and watch the videos, I’ll give you a bit of visual reconnaissance. In the first video, the Verizon Center – home of the Caps, the Wizards, the Mystics, and endless concerts, is located along the two-block span to the left of the screen. Crossing diagonally from where the camera is, are two blocks of restaurants and bars: hence, the endless pedestrian traffic in the area – all day and all night (there is also a Metro stop underneath the Verizon Center). I have only ever seen the diagonal crossing once in my life and it was in Denver way back in the late 70s; some of the comments to the story imply that it’s happening everywhere but it’s been a rare sight for me. I’m cool with it because I hate that intersection for all the reasons they used to justify the dance; bets on what happens once the traffic cops walk away after on week of keeping it safe?

T

cat five-0

Maybe ‘Outlaw’ would be a better title but I’m going to stick with undercover operations – of a sort.

Sometime last week Pumpkin was jumped near our porch by another cat – which isn’t a new neighborhood arrival as far as I can tell – and ever since he’s been timid at the door. For me, he’ll still go out even if I have to give him a push on occasion; for X, she has to step out onto the porch so he can see that she’s not slain by some bully cat awaiting a good pounce opportunity. The end result is that Pumpkin has now added, and rightly so in this case, to his plethora of ‘issues’.

Right. You may ask yourself, “Where’s Lemon in all of this?”, and you’d be well to ask. Most of the time the Slayer appears to be napping and unawares on our bed’s comforter; blind to the happenings around her kingdom. In her mind, she’s already laid down the law of the land and any cat would be mad to consider either patrolling her block or, gasp, coming onto the porch. Until yesterday I wasn’t too sure if she’d be more bothered by the invasion of her suzerainty, or the fact that her pal was getting bullied. Who knows what a cat thinks? As I was heading out to class yesterday she was sitting near the front door and I asked (as it were) her if she wanted to head outside; she responded negatively, and indicated such, by walking a few feet to the den and hopping up on my desk so she could peer out the front (porch) window. As I stepped out, I noticed that Pumpkin was crouched on the front corner of the porch and that my sweet, little killer was keeping a close eye on the situation. Now, I don’t claim to understand what logical happenings or communication methods that may or may not exist in the brains of Felis Domesticus, but I’m certain that we have either a bait-and-beat situation, or a good friend merely keeping an eye upon the other. Whatever the genesis of the stakeout, there will be some misery if old bully shows up any time soon. And don’t think for a second that if an intruder approaches that Lemon can’t be from the desk, through the hall, out the cat door, and in full flight-upon-thee in less then three seconds. We’ll know when the issue has been settled by a few scratches and whatnot on Lemon’s ears; we may not hear it but we’ll know it. As for that other cat, you’re walking through the valley of death, not the shadow, the valley.

My two nights of American Cuisine this week involve the great dishes of the Great Plains. I asked if I could have a pass, being a native and all, but my chef said no. I then asked if I could just make some meat loaf, green bean casserole with Durkee’s fried onions, and a baked potato, and he said no. I think he doubts my cred.

We did get back to quiz night this week and did well – somewhere around 7^th for the evening. My contribution was managing to provide the Holy Trinity of Cajun cooking (onion, celery, green pepper in a mirepoix). I guess all this time and money has finally paid off…

t

smoking? pot? what?

“Again, understand that walking away is a kind of communication, too. Sometimes "better communication" is "less communication." You can't argue everything. And you can't argue the things you pick ad infinitum.”

This is an input in a conversation thread at Ta-Nehisi Coates' blog after a long comment thread blew up last week on one of his entries. Within the confines of the discussion it's pretty hard to process and when pulled out of the context it makes lots of confused sense to me. I don’t even know if that makes sense, check that. I think the heart of the sentence is that we, as political and social creatures, tend to think we have the back story of an issue when we really don’t; that story comes from the experiences of our lives and no one else’s. We don’t understand the position of another person whose life is so varied from ours and sometimes positing, and then forcefully debating that issue, isn’t going to necessarily come to something positive. As much as I want to believe in my opinion on gay rights, women’s rights, civil rights, being black, or growing up poor, the facts are the facts and I’ll never know regardless of my good intentions; sometimes that’s hard to accept. Sometimes you do your level best and then walk away.

We managed our way through L.’s birthday dinner, and a bit of an ode to the mothers at the table, last night. She requested salmon (I smoked it), magic potatoes, and tzatziki. She also picked out a chocolate cake from the Great Baking Book and we made that together in the afternoon. Nothing says lots of dirty pots and dishes like a made-from-scratch cake – I actually ran out of stuff to use.

Our trip to Eastern Market yesterday was a smash. The crepe guy was there and with our early arrival we were able to beat most of the line and at least keep warm with crepes for The 61. I went savory and the two girls went sweet. We gathered up the King of Chairs that we purchased last week (see below), X picked up some pearls, and I pulled some cheese from the Market’s cheese seller, some S.C. strawberries, and a pound of fresh S. Virginia asparagus. We also stumbled upon a gentleman who runs a great stand that stocks used cookbooks and used cast iron and enameled cast iron cookware. He gathers high quality used Le Crueset, Capco, and other marks and then sells them for a fraction of what you’d pay at Williams or elsewhere. The Copco stuff he had was about $35-$40 per piece and quite nice but couldn’t match the three pieces that X scored at Goodwill for $10, total, a few months back. He was happy we had some at home and didn’t rue the fact that we’d managed product for so little. (Copco is now making the Batali stuff so if you’ve seen that newer line then you have a general idea of the classic line.) He also had five or six volumes of the late 1970s set of Time Life cookbooks that are popular among all chefs – most of my instructors have a least a portion of the nearly 30-volume set. I grabbed four of those and disappeared into the morning sun.

I’m registered for classes next quarter (begins after the 4th of July holiday) and have Garde Manger, Intro to Baking , and Intro to Pastry. I sense loads of sweets and breads early in the week.

t

dreams

I can't believe it's been 14 years since Big Night came out; it was my favorite movie then, it's my favorite movie now. Only a handful of times has a film been this good, at least in my book. I stumbled across the feast scene earlier today and decided it would be best for everyone to see exactly what I'd like cooking and a restaurant to be - I'm still trying to get these reactions in my house. I also added in the final scene: the morning after the big fight between the brothers. A simple egg dish for breakfast and life goes on. As for the Feast scene, you can skip the volume until the credit bit is over - the scene is great, the guy's additions aren't so great.





You fucking guys!

vegetables. people.

I wanted to throw in a bit on knife cuts (for culinary students) and triage. What we get at mid-terms and finals is some variant of the eight primary cuts and a couple of other, specialized cuts. Last night we were give 2 oz. each of large, medium, and small dice; batonnet, julienne, and fine julienne; brunoise and fine brunoise; some rondelles and four tourne potatoes. Aside from the potatoes, all the other cuts were from carrots. We were only given 15 minutes, including peeling, to get product on the table for grading. A few things have to happen if you’re going to make it. First, you need a plan for the order of cuts – don’t get into your medium dice before doing your julienne and smaller cuts. Second, you will have to sacrifice the 2 oz. portion of the outline if you’re going to have any chance of getting ten cuts on display. As long as you get a goodly stack of each on your tray – even if not 2 oz, particularly when you aren’t in a fundamentals class – you’ll be fine. You have to know your chef instructor and know that he’s simply going to finger through the piles briefly and give you a grade. Once you have everything in line, start rolling, don’t panic, get product out. Lots of students in my class don’t work the triage idea and either don’t do the planning, or are too focused on absolutely perfect fine brunoise; these are 1/16” squares cut from the carrots. (Tallying 2 full ounces of fine brunoise alone, in 15 minutes, is nearly impossible). One student spent so much time measuring her stack of julienne carrots that she only ended up with two cuts on the board – not a great score. I got all ten with my tourne potatoes ripped out in the final two minutes; I always hold them for last. She got 2/10, I got 9.5/10. Lots of others didn’t get through the cuts and that’s always a problem because the planning and managing of your is pretty important. Maybe they’ll learn. Maybe I just recognize it better because that type of prioritization comes fairly naturally to me.

t

no girls allowed

And for something a little more light-hearted: this is a great entry on couch/house forts and on the grades for the quality of each.

We went to Eastern Market last Sunday, a last-minute diverge from the DuPont Farmers Market, and managed to feed kids, order a pearl necklace, and buy me a big, new (used) living room chair. With the four kids and two adults we couldn’t fit the chair n the car so we’ll be back down on Sunday morning to get both the pearls and the chair. The first thing that L. asked me was if she could have my corner of the couch. I bequeathed it to her but was sort of overridden by X and her dah-di-dah. Of course, X has a wholly self-created daybed/coach/snug off in another corner with her computer so I don’t think it’ll matter in the end.

And, to follow-up on a NYTimes piece about PowerPoint that made our rounds last week, and to which I agreed, know this: this is more my position on that program and I think Farhad is stealing from my brain. See my bit on clipart from whenever.

I just wrapped up my mid-terms for the quarter. Knife cuts...again. My fine julienne is exceptional.

Love to all

t

from a to b and back to a. not without a fight.

Here’s the short version. Read beyond the line if you want to read more rabble about Douthet’s NYTimes bit.

The original text of the Arizona law said this:

B. For any lawful contact made by a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of this state or a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of a county, city, town or other political subdivision of this state where reasonable suspicion exists that the person is an alien who and is unlawfully present in the United States, a reasonable attempt shall be made, when practicable, to determine the immigration status of the person, except if the determination may hinder or obstruct an investigation.

The text changes, and law change, made by the Arizona house a week later say this:

B. For any lawful stop, detention or arrest made by a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of this state or a law enforcement official or a law enforcement agency of a county, city, town or other political subdivision of this state in the enforcement of any other law or ordinance of a county, city or town or this state where reasonable suspicion exists that the person is an alien who and is unlawfully present in the United States, a reasonable attempt shall be made, when practicable, to determine the immigration status of the person, except if the determination may hinder or obstruct an investigation.

A few things, of course. The first attempt, where a very loosely defined ‘contact’ is outlined and that ‘contact’ is based on ‘reasonable suspicion’ that a person is here illegally, is comical. Really? Let me ask you this one, simple question: how might you suspect a person is here illegally when they are walking down the street? I think you know have the answer to why the law met the racial profiling gate.

The new text actually falls in line with Federal code and simply states that if you are involved in a law enforcement issue during a “lawful stop, detention, or arrest” then you must show your identification.

This law, when first passed, was not a law that simply required immigrants to carry their papers, as always. It had nothing to do with that because having your papers, or not, wasn’t the issue,;it was the suspicion that someone doing nothing but being here was strong enough to allow that query. There really was no argument in support of the original bill.

It’s been rewritten to follow the Federal law and I’m fine with that. Wonder why it was rewritten? I’ll just let you think about it.

_____________________________________________

Douthat has an op-ed this morning that addresses – from his right perch – the Arizona immigration law and the issue as a whole. The opening to his third paragraph is enlightening:

“Just because this is the wrong way to enforce America’s immigration laws, however, doesn’t mean they don’t need to be enforced.”

Well, that about covers it, Ross, doesn’t it? That is the rub of this law as it was originally written – it was racial profiling and not just enforcing a law. As he rightly points out, federal law requires the carrying of documentation for immigrants but it doesn’t imply, by any stretch, that they must be produced on demand if they’re walking down the street: and that’s what the law said. The original text of the passed bill stated that any ‘lawful contact’ was all that was needed for a paper query. The rewrite that the house put in place last week changed that to “…any lawful stop, detention, or arrest” and included “in the enforcement of any other law or ordinance of a county, city or town or this state.” Right. Fair enough on the change, but all that does is actually replicate the federal statute (8 USC 1304) and so nothing is new…now Anyone that read the initial law would come to a reasonable conclusion that “contact” not in the “enforcement of any crime or law” in order to check papers is a bit militaristic. How would law enforcement determine which people they were suspicious of being here illegally? How? I wonder. There is no argument that can support the passing of the initial law. (You can see the full texts above.)

When Douthat jumps the shark is in two areas. First with this, “But there’s no compelling reason that we should decide which immigrants to welcome based on their proximity to our border, and their ability to slip across.” Secondly with this, “Curbing the demand for illegal workers requires stiff workplace enforcement, stringent penalties for hiring undocumented workers, and shared sacrifice from Americans accustomed to benefiting from cheap labor.”

The proximity argument is presented as to ensure that someone from Central Africa has the same opportunity to immigrate to America as someone from North or South America. That idea is well-and-good but it isn’t really feasible, is it? Would we suggest that someone from Hong Kong would have the same opportunity to immigrate to France as someone from Algeria? Of course not; proximity during any type of immigration is going to an overriding factor and to intimate anything else is disingenuous.

The call for ‘curbing the demand’ sounds just like the idea behind the War on Drugs and how well did that go? We are well aware that curbing the demand (through employers, stringent penalties, etc.) won’t work any better – are we willing to lock up business owners after immigration raids? They don’t do that now because all they do is haul off the workers. The stopping of demand won’t work because demand it too high by Americans. The phrase that cuts both ways to me, is this, “they are doing jobs that Americans won’t do.” That, of course, is complete and utter bullshit. If I’m for more immigration (legal) then I’ll tell you that if a garlic farmer in Gilroy advertises for 150 harvesters at minimum wage he won’t have a line of white Americans who are unemployed lining up for work. At the same time, the jobs that unemployed Americans want – high pay, good hours, health insurance – aren’t the jobs that immigrants, legal or illegal, are taking. We need to get over that patriotic American, job-hunting bullshit and move along.. Does Douthat know why American business owners hire illegal immigrants? They work for cheap and that helps the great free enterprise and capitalism numbers that the Republicans support against all comers. Ironic, isn’t it? Even when President Bush tried twice of overhaul the immigration system the Republicans blocked any movement on it – wouldn’t even bring it to the floor for discussion. If Douthat is so serious about enforcement of laws, and he really, really thinks that cutting the demand is the best solution, then how about getting up and a tub and thumping away at hauling off every business owner and homeowner who employs a single illegal immigrant, just one time. Haul them off, Ross, mister man of laws. But he won’t.

As far as the courts are concerned we have some precedent on suspicion and profiling. They tried setting up police roadblocks in the D.C. neighborhood of Trinidad in the summer of 2008 during a summer of unbelievable violence and the roadblocks were intended to curb that violence. The police, under Cathy Lanier, didn’t want to actually police the city they just wanted to stop people – how random? – going in and out of the neighborhood whenever they felt the need. Funny, it didn’t stop the violence; it was merely a form of profiling of a neighborhood and the courts struck it down. The original Arizona law was equally as bad. The changes simply realign the Arizona law with Federal code – it was changed because of the outcry.

The immigration system is a big problem and needs overhaul. When there’s work and people who want to do it yet we are unable to process them in any reasonable method then we’ll have problems. Better life, better work, better opportunity but no way to let people come here and do the work and live that life. I’m pretty sure that if allowed to immigrate to the U.S. with documents then people would; no one wants to live their life in a shadow. There are options that include temporary worker statues (which we use now), allowing more in for season work, etc. As Douthet points out, 54% of immigrants here from Mexico are here legally. If more than half of come here legally then clearly the preponderance of evidence shows they follow a procedure if it’s available. And 40% of those here illegally came here legally but have out-stayed there welcome – illegally. I get it so spare me the ‘enforce the law’ crap and actually try to do something to fix the problem instead of hailing Sheriff Joe Arpaio as anything other than the complete moronic, racist, jackass that he is.

Thanks