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.

t

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.

t

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.

t

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.

t

'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.

t

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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spare change?

I remember taking both macro and micro economics during my foray at the University of Iowa: I hated them both, but for different reasons. All you need to know about my micro economics class was that it was in the basement of a very old university building at 7:30am two days a week.

"When we add an additional trillion dollars to the debt, the burden of the taxpayer, sooner or later there's got to be a reckoning," said Sen. Richard Shelby (R-Ala), ranking member on the Senate Banking Committee.

I’m onboard with Sen. Selby – and I think I’ve seen him during various hearings and no doubt laughed at his generally horrible behavior. I’m only letting him participate in this entry because he has said it best. Not only that, remember last month when Freddie and Fannie were in “trouble” and the government passed a bill that only authorized a government takeover “if” it was needed for the two mortgage giants? Everyone pretended that authorizing the use of force was not the same as actually saying you could use force. Wait, wrong fuck up. What they said was it was only an authorization to move further into Freddie and Fannie if needed. No worries they said, it won’t be needed. I could be forgiven for thinking that we were reckoning this out six weeks ago but there’s no way that authorization wasn’t going to be used. Shoot, if they send me a credit card with a $20,000 limit there’s no way I’d actually use it, right?

What we’ve got now is another reckoning. In the most basic economic terms I can sort out, it comes down to a proposed ~$700 billion Treasury buyout of mortgage and mortgage-related failing investments. The breadth of the buyout is limited to Wall St. banks and corporations and not specifically to individual buyers and mortgage holders – call them ‘the people’. Sec. of the Treasury Paulson wants a quick and clean move to get this rolling line of credit up and running. Some in the Congress, on both sides of the aisle, appear to be pushing back against a straight, uninhibited, no oversight, limited control, three-quarter of a trillion dollar check. For differing reasons (the fighting Republicans dismiss it as a bailout; the fighting Democrats want more oversight and more help for ‘the people’) I think it’s probably a solid idea to hold off and take the time to bang more heads together until there’s a much more solid piece of work. I see how desperate everyone on the Hill seems to be but why is it that suddenly, beginning on a Friday afternoon and carrying through Sunday meetings, did everyone decide that we were in a 60-hour time warp where we’d just discovered the problem? Wasn’t it clear over two years ago that the housing and mortgage sector was collapsing? Haven’t I listened to endless talking heads discussing whether or not we were in a recession yet because the official term ‘recession’ can’t be used until two consecutive quarters of a crappy economy have happened? What worries me most about Paulson in particular is what the hell has he been doing since he was appointed? It looks like he’s been sitting in his office playing minesweeper and watering the plants. Imagine someone who actually was taking steps as the problems arose and attempting to sort out solutions in a serial manner. Instead we get everyone running around over a weekend with their hair on fire as if this was all a surprise.

You know what? I don’t have the solution. I know that’s pretty obvious. But…I’m not paid to have the solution. If you want me to kick some ass on PowerPoint, I’m your man. I’m all for the reckoning that’s coming and I know it’s going to hurt…a lot. This is an opportunity while we’re standing in dire straits for someone to come out and say the words I long to hear, “This son of a bitch is going to hurt for a good long time. You might need to lock down that seatbelt and get ready for a rough, rough ride.” And I want them to mean it. I want them to quite blowing smoke up my skirt. We aren’t children.

And the next time a pile of politicians come out for a press junket and stand line abreast like they’re a stern and supportive looking YMCA basketball team, I’m going to kick them all in their shins. Nothing says “we’re so confused and useless” then a flight of unblinking, alleged leaders.

Ah. Monday.

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humdinger

Regardless of your political leanings, I think everyone should go out and canvass for a political campaign. The Eleven spend a beautiful Saturday heading into D.C. to pick up some G’town law students and then driving down to South Fairfax county to canvass for Obama. What the process gives you, and what you’ll realize if you take up the challenge, is a chance to interact and be a part of a process that’s horribly broken and left on the side of the road. We were together for our walk sheet, knocked on doors, and had some great conversations with undecided voters, Obama supporters, and homes with a bit of both McCain and Obama present. We were nervous at the outset as we sorted our goods and got parked to begin: how would we present ourselves? What stories did we have that might convince people to just talk? What would they think of a couple of newly-minted political campaigners? You know what? For the most part, whether they agree or not with your candidate, most are perfectly happy to stand on the porch and talk about what’s important to them – and just as often, what’s important to us. It’s a wholly different view of the process than the yelling and screaming you hear across the rest of the landscape. You know what? There are a lot of people out there that are struggling to decide who they’ll vote for in November. There’re a ton of issues pulling everyone this way and that. There are, hopefully, a few dozen that are happy that someone who cared came knocking on their door on a September Saturday to talk honestly about where we are and where we’re headed. I found that much like every other volunteer activity I’ve added to my life over the last two years, people care that you’re there. Obama has registered over 250,000 new voters in Virginia in 2008. If nothing else, getting everyone to the polls is something no one can argue against.

I headed to the 9:30 Club last night to catch another Old Crow Medicine Show concert. I happened to be first in line and meandered to the best seat in American music: upper level, dead center, with my can on one of the club’s eight or so barstools. I love the Crows but their 2006 show at the 9:30 was very disappointing; both for the sound of the performance and the shitty crowd. Last night was a whole new ballgame – they were on fire and the crowd was so much stronger. They ran about two hours with a 15-minute break and screamed through most of the new CD (out next week, but in my hot, little hands) and a good bit of the back catalog. What they’ve become is a band with enough material to not have to rely on playing everything from every album – they can pick-and-choose what’s to come. In fact, they didn’t play at least six songs that I was expecting to hear yet I didn’t miss any of them. With the exception of a few slow moments, the show was stunning. As I was standing outside before the show, Ketch (singer, writer, harmonica, fiddle player, banjo player, guitar player) was walking to the tour bus with his mother, who was visiting D.C. to see her son and last night’s show. I don’t know if his performance was that much more inspired but he was fantastic. If only I could do any of that stuff. Considering the dip that’d taken after the last outing, last night’s gig put them right back up at the peak of live bands.

Apparently there’s a cat coming to live with us tomorrow morning. I’ll see if I can get to the farmers’ market on a pass before the feline invades my life.



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calling all cars

The D.C. Examiner is one of the two free morning papers handed out at Metro stops all about the D.C. area. It’s the more conservative of the two (the Express being the liberal, WaPo-published rage) and it has some columnists I enjoy reading so I pick it up along with the Express and work through them on the to-and-fro bus rides. One of the indicative traits of any Metro commuter (bus or train) is arriving at work with a copy of either or both papers – it’s some kind of species identification technique. Anyway, I was reading in yesterday’s Examiner about an “incident” at the Columbia Heights Metro station. This link is to a follow-up story at the dcist.com Web site that further explains some details and has a picture. But, here’s the text of the Examiner story that also included a picture of the stunt:

“The Columbia Heights Metro station was closed for nearly two hours Tuesday morning for the D.C. bomb squad to investigate a weird sight: A stuffed polar bear costume leaned up against a garbage can. The arctic reproduction, clothed in worn pants and a threadbare jacket, was posed to appear as if it were digging through the trash, leading to speculation that the display was street art to protest global warming’s destruction of the polar bear’s habitat. Not everybody got the point, and police were alerted around 10 a.m. The Metro station remained closed and trains were not allowed to stop there while authorities cordoned off the area and sent in the bomb squad. Investigators cut open the bear but found nothing dangerous.” (my italics)

Let me tell you a little something: If I’m in need of hiding something suspicious I’m not hiding it in a life-sized polar bear. I can’t even imagine the discussion that took place between the police while they took two hours to sort out what to do. I understand the police have a tough job and I think Greenpeace more often than not goes overboard when demonstrating, but cutting open the suspicious bear to make sure there was nothing dangerous? Brilliant.

hey

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