Flapjacks and Scrapple

Round John Virgin

2008-12-25T13:12:00.000-08:00

I wanted a screamer or a moaner, but I only got a sweater.

Snowpocalypse!!!

2008-12-22T13:41:00.000-08:00

Everybody panic!

Goodbye, Lovely

2008-12-12T13:49:00.000-08:00

Our Little Prodigy

2008-10-11T18:12:00.000-07:00

Here's Sebastian (aka "Sammy," son of Tony, son of Jude) rocking on the drums. Just turned four, this little thumper. Seriously, he's like the Tiger Woods of the drum set. He's been playing since he was a little kid.

Sammy on Drums

KEATING KEATING KEATING KEATING KEATING

2008-10-04T20:35:00.000-07:00

Bold Prediction:

2008-10-02T09:29:00.000-07:00

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Palin drops out of the race --possibly during tonight's debate-- and, to replace her, out walks (wait for it): Hillary Rodham Clinton.

Mark it, Dude. Extra credit if anybody throws a folding chair.

;-) !!!UPDATE!!! ;-)
Didn't happen. YET.

Favorite quote:

"We've let these other countries pollute more than America would even stand for ..."

Surprise!

2008-09-21T08:58:00.000-07:00

Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

I thought the October Surprise would be Osama Bin Laden's head on a stake, or Israel's U.S.-backed invasion of Iran, but that just shows that I allowed myself to be distracted by old battles.

Remember how the Patriot Act and the Iraq invasion were rushed through Congress, each under a grave and gathering threat? Well, now it looks like the entire U.S. economy may be delivered to one single man, Henry Paulson, former CEO of Goldman Sachs.

Al Qaeda and the NeoCons seek the same path, though toward different ends. One is a foreign enemy, the other is domestic. For both, bankrupting the current U.S. system is required to make way for a replacement ideology. Bin Laden's approach is to repeat the fall of the Soviet Union; draw the U.S. into unsustainable military conflict. The NeoCons' route is to infiltrate and destroy from within, or at least reduce the treasury to the point that the government can be drowned in a bathtub. Next step: rationalize that all the New Deal social programs, including Social Security and the "alphabet soup of agencies" the FDIC, SEC, and FHA, plus the highway system and public schools -- all must go (i.e. be privatized) because there's no money to fund them.

It's depressing and debilitating, but I still think it's important to concentrate on electing Obama and unseating as many Republicans as possible, if only on the off chance they'll rally the People to fight for these institutions as they're challenged. And tomorrow morning instead of doing my job, I'm going to call my reps and try to direct their attention to the alternate ideas listed in this WaPo article.

In its present form, the economic "rescue" proposal gives Paulson completely unchecked power to spend unlimited money. (You thought there was a $700B limit? There isn't; it's $700B at a time.) It allows him to buy and sell crummy assets at any price he decides is OK. He can buy them for sixty cents on the dollar and sell them for twenty cents on the dollar. The decisions he makes will be non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion; that's non-reviewable even by any court of law or any administrative agency. No checks and balances. Where have we heard this song before?

So, the October surprise is that the Congress no longer controls the budget, and the presidency is irrelevant. The NeoCons don't need to keep the White House or the Congress because they've heisted the entire economy. To quote Oliver North: "neat idea."

Somebody tell a joke.

Is the Meadow on Fire?

2008-09-13T22:29:00.000-07:00

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I personally believe, Charlie, that U.S. Americans are able to preemptively, uh, some people out there in our nation don't hunt moose and, uh, I believe that our, uh, energy like such as in, uh, Russia and, uh, the Iraq and everywhere like such as, and I believe that we should, uh, 20% of our energy over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., uh, should be able to attack Russia and should attack Iraq and the Asian countries, so we will be able to build up our future. For our children. Charlie.

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Knock Knock

2008-09-11T13:57:00.001-07:00

Who's there?

Nine-Eleven

Nine-Eleven who?

You said you'd never forget!

All Your Bad Debt Are Belong To Us

2008-09-07T15:44:00.000-07:00

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The headlines say the US government "seized" Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac and, if you bother to read the story, you find that We The People have adopted another budget catastrophe whose cost is on par with the US government's seizure of Iraq. It's quite a Fannie we've seized. But the government didn't actually seize the two companies; they're publicly-traded in good times, but only government-seized in bad. As soon as they're profitable again the shareholders will regain control. Maybe Fannie and Freddie will buy a big Thank You ad for the back of next year's Form 1040 Instruction booklet. This temporary seizure relationship is politely called a "conservatorship." It's fear-based socialism, like when your parents pay for your rehab and cover your bills and mow your lawn while you're in recovery because they're afraid you'll stab them in their sleep if they let you move back home.

But, since that story is all about big numbers that nobody can even imagine, let's talk about little missing Caylee's awful mother instead. I heard that she relied on her parents to watch little Caylee while she'd be out drinking and fucking. Can you believe the nerve? Really, I blame the parents.

Goodnight, Gracie!

2008-08-29T13:33:00.000-07:00

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Well that didn't take long. The Republican ticket of Burns and Allen is already in hot water.

Turns out Alaska Governor Palin is under investigation for abuse of power. Oh, and don't worry: it's unseemly!

The story goes, she fired Alaska's Public Safety Commissioner because he refused to fire a State Trooper she wanted axed. What's that? You want to know why she wanted the State Trooper axed? Well, because he was in a bitter child custody battle at the time with the Governor's sister, Molly. Family's gotta come first!

She could even face impeachment over the matter. Who's doing the vetting over there at the McCain campaign?

Oh well, if he has to drop Palin from the ticket he can still go with Harriet Myers.

GEORGE:
Well, well, Gracie, that's pretty shocking! In light of this potential scandal, do you think McCain will keep Palin?

GRACIE:
Why George, if McCain keeps palin' he's likely to disappear altogether!
clapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclapclap

UPDATE 2 SEPTEMBER, 2008

Roister doister, it's been a busy weekend for Governor Palin! I can't keep up, but here's a Digg.com screenshot:

Vulgar Exclamation!

2008-08-28T18:55:00.000-07:00

I'm clicking around during the Convention (nice job, drummer for Will.I.Am and John Legend!) and I see this tag:

McCain's Prickly TIME Interview

It was a weird interview on McCain's (wife's) plane where he behaved really strangely. Couple highlights:

[Your] campaign today is more disciplined, more traditional, more aggressive. From your point of view, why the change?
I will do as much as we possibly can do to provide as much access to the press as possible.

But beyond the press, sir, just in terms of ...
I think we're running a fine campaign, and this is where we are.

Do you miss the old way of doing it?
I don't know what you're talking about.

Really? Come on, Senator.
I'll provide as much access as possible ...

In 2000, after the primaries, you went back to South Carolina to talk about what you felt was a mistake you had made on the Confederate flag. Is there anything so far about this campaign that you wish you could take back or you might revisit when it's over?
[Does not answer.]

Do I know you? [Says with a laugh.]
[Long pause.] I'm very happy with the way our campaign has been conducted, and I am very pleased and humbled to have the nomination of the Republican Party.

You do acknowledge there was a change in the campaign, in the way you had run the campaign?
[Shakes his head.]

You don't acknowledge that? O.K., when your aides came to you and you decided, having been attacked by Barack Obama, to run some of those ads, was there a debate?
The campaign responded as planned.

So OK. Then I find this article from the BBC:

PUTIN BLAMES U.S. FOR GEORGIA ROLE

This is alarming. Take your time -- go read the article. McCain's top, A-number-one foreign policy advisor -- a guy named Randall Scheunemann -- is a paid lobbyist to McCain on behalf of the country of Georgia. You already know that, right? Today, though, check this: Putin is saying that the U.S. worked with Georgia to provoke the Russians into a conflict in order to impact the U.S. election. He's saying the U.S. trained Georgian troops, both in Georgia and in Iraq, then flew the Iraq-based Georgian troops on U.S. planes back to Georgia during the Russian invasion, and provided U.S. boots on the ground to actually participate in the combat. This is a very grave charge and it's got a real ring of truth to it.

Remember during the height of the Russo-Georgian conflict, the Georgian president was calling on John McCain to "move from words to deeds"? I remember wondering why he was calling out McCain instead of Bush. Did he really expect a candidate for president to be able to send troops and, even if he could, why would he want to go to war with Russia just for Georgia? But now I think McCain's man Scheunemann must have promised Georgia that McCain would fly in and make a big deal out of it if/when Russia responded to Georgia's provocation, and Georgia would get South Ossetia back in the process. Georgia would also have an indebted friend in the White House if McCain won the presidency.

Did you read the article? You didn't? OK, at least read this quote from Putin:

"We have serious reasons to believe that American citizens were right at the heart of the military action," Putin said.

If it is true, then

the Republicans, including both McCain and the Bush administration, actually started a war between two sovereign countries solely to manipulate the American electorate. Does it get any more cynical?
yes, it could get more cynical. Because Putin's Russia responded so much more strongly than Georgia (and, allegedly, the U.S. Republicans) expected, Georgia got crushed and McCain didn't have a chance to step in and show American voters his strong yet diplomatic side. Therefore
my grave concern is that those same Rovian Republicans will try again -- this time with something more manageable, like a terrorist attack within the U.S..
if there is an attack in the U.S., it's easy to imagine the Bush administration taking some pretty drastic measures in response to the catastrophic emergency.

Convention Just Got Better Than The Olympics

2008-08-28T08:34:00.000-07:00

I know Bill Clinton reads a lot, but I had no idea he reads my blog. His speech last night did many of the things that Hillary's failed to do. In particular, he referred to Barack Obama the man, not Obama the agenda.

Just an aside: I noticed during Bill's speech that Hillary, Michelle, Jill Biden and even Mama Biden all wore blue dresses last night. And I thought, "Well that's a strong show of support for Bill." It reminded me of my brother's post the other day about how Jackie Robinson's teammates all wore his number as a show of solidarity. Blue dresses for Bill. Funny.

Anyway, he gave a great speech and he wore a very expensive tie that wasn't orange. So. I don't know. I just couldn't help thinking as I listened that Bill's main objective was just to give a better speech than Hillary. But I can't really prove that. Favorite line:

"People the world over have always been more impressed by the power of our example than by the example of our power."

Now, Beau Biden? That was a heartfelt introduction of his Dad. I was crying (I love you, Dad!). Just watch it, that's all.

Joe Biden also did a great job. At one point, though, he told about how his mother made him go back outside and at least bloody the nose of a bully who'd attacked him so he'd be able to walk down the street after that. Great American stuff! Except, I thought, that's probably the same thing the Iraqi insurgents tell one another while they're placing their IEDs along the road, and we're the bully. Anyway, he sold it.

Also, since the Fourth Amendment and Habeus Corpus still haven't been seen or heard from at the Democratic National Convinfomercial, I'll go ahead and mention them here:

Fourth Amendment to the US Constitution
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

Writ of Habeus Corpus
(Latin: [We command] that you have the body) is the name of a legal action, or writ, through which a person can seek relief from unlawful detention of himself or another person. The writ of habeus corpus has historically --since the 12th century-- been an important instrument for the safeguarding of individual freedom against arbitrary state action. Also known as "The Great Writ," it's a summons with the force of a court order addressed to the custodian (such as a prison official) demanding that a prisoner be brought before the court, together with proof of the custodian's authority, so the court can decide whether the prisoner is being legally held or, if not, that the person should be released.

Now, the FIRST Amendment has been seen, but it was bleeding in a gutter trying to wash the pepper spray from its eyes. Here's that old favorite amendment for anybody who'd like to sing along:

First Amendment to the US Constitution
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or of the right of the people to peaceably assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

And for dessert, why not? My personal favorite:

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More Substance Abuse

2008-08-27T11:07:00.000-07:00

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Oh, Fox. Someday your overt propaganda will all be subtle, and we'll so miss these screen shots. This is the kind of thing that explains why somebody stuck a dollar bill in a Faux News vj's bra during a live segment from the DNC. Enjoy:
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Convention Needs More Beach Volleyball.

2008-08-26T18:54:00.000-07:00

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Here are my thoughts on the Hillary speech: I found it tepid.

I thought Hillary should have shown John McCain's "Passed Over" ad claiming that Clinton backers had been betrayed by Obama -- she should have grabbed a stool and a water bottle and watched it on the jumbo-tron with the audience. Then she should have stood back at the podium shaking her head (her signature move) and said, "What a load of crap. Aren't you a little tired of this cheap manipulation? This is like Monica trying to win Bill by telling me he's a cheater." That would have made some headlines. Why don't they listen to me?

Regarding the most substantive issue of the evening, I hated the pant suit (who likes a pant suit?) but I liked the necklace. Hey, how come the women of cable news have stopped wearing necklaces now? Notice that? It's curious. Michelle Obama's beautiful outfits last night and tonight were a striking contrast to Hillary, who seemed to be purposely emphasizing her frumpiness and her ... orangeness. I really cringed at her line about the "sisterhood of the travelling pant suit." What's with all the little insider gal-pal talk? Maggie Thatcher would never have done that. And Obama's not all, "where my niggas at -- what-what?"

She took a couple of pointed but collegial jabs at McCain, but she didn't say anything positive about her candidate's character. She didn't say he's a nice guy or funny or that his kids are cute or that he talks good or anything remotely personal. I thought that was a little bit of cold broth, right there.

Finally, I thought she should have mentioned Ted Kennedy as a hero and promised to emulate him. With that framing, she could have outlined each of her favorite initiatives, followed by "let's make sure over the next four years that President Obama hears plenty from us about getting that one handled."

Oh, and you know what would be really nice? If somebody would step up to the mic and mention torture, civil liberties, even our occupation of Iraq for pete's sake. No, it's been all nice, nice, "We're no threat! We're not leftists! We're just like you. Just good moms and sisters and midwesterners and corporate whores." So far, this convention has been like a birthday party for a retarded princess.

By the way, here's a great video of convention Democrats calling the cops on liberal journalists with full media passes just for asking their names as they walk into a super-secret soiree thrown for them by now-immune AT&T.

Megan Calls the Cops On Our Yard Gnome

2008-08-22T11:37:00.000-07:00

This morning Jude's cell phone rang at about 3:15. It woke me up, but it was in the other room so I ignored it. "If somebody's dead," I thought, "they'll still be dead at sunrise." But then my cell phone rang. I wasn't out of bed quick enough to answer, but that call did get me vertical to go listen to the message. It was Megan, next door.

"I heard a loud bang over there and I can see some guy in your yard," she said.

Bravely, boldly, I peeked through an eensy weensy crack in our living room curtain. I could see a supine body in the yard, its bare feet twitching, and on the porch I could see an ammo belt with about 50 bullets. I thought, "Is this guy shot?" Fortunately I didn't have to learn whether I had enough nerve to go out and check on him myself, because a police cruiser pulled up and shone his spotlight on the guy. I'd say he was about 28, blondish, and dressed to party with some loud Loverboy tunes and a whole lot of Miller High Life.

I went out onto the porch and said, "Officer, there's some ammo up here on the porch."

"I think that's probably Mr. Hardcore's belt," he answered, indicating the splendor on the grass, "since it goes so well with his boots."

The guy was a rocker, still wearing his rocker gear from a night of hard drinking. I'm no CSI officer, but the perp left a pretty clear trail of destruction marking his recent activity. He'd apparently decided to take a little napsky on our porch bench; he'd begun to disrobe there, knocked over Jude's planter and beat a hasty retreat to the yard, where our lush lawn was too inviting to pass up. Off came his black and chrome boots, his badass jean jacket, his badass black bandanna with skull pattern, and down goes Lightweight Larry.

The cop roused him with, "Hey! Hey, do you know where you are?"

"No. Yes. I'm right here. None of your business. I can do whatever."

"Is that why you knocked over this guy's plant pot? Put your hands behind you."

"But not your plant pot. Not yours."

The cop actually apologized to me for my trouble as he loaded Drunky Dan's effects into the trunk. I felt like a real taxpayer. I picked a wallet up from the walkway and handed it to the officer, wishing I had some muffins or something to give him. He opened the wallet and took a look. "He's from out of state. Probably a student -- school's starting." Then, to the guy in the backseat, he said, "Welcome to Oregon! Have you seen our drunk tank?" and off they went. You say no to drugs, kids.

Oh my God!

2008-08-12T11:36:00.000-07:00

This morning at about 05:00 Jude jerked awake, just like in the movies. "I've got to call my Mom," she said.

In her dream, she and her Mom were talking on the phone like they always do and, suddenly, Wilma said, "Oh my God!" and the phone went dead.

"I think she might be in trouble. People laugh at me but I've had this happen before."

I didn't laugh. Even though it's ridiculous.

"It sounded like maybe somebody had broken into her house. It might be happening right now." So, at 05:05, she called Wilma, who answered (which I'm surprised to report considering she doesn't wear her hearing aids to bed). Jude told her the dream and wandered out of the bedroom. I could hear her telling Wilma to check the locks and I could hear Jude checking our locks. They always talk for a long time. I went back to sleep.

Around 06:00, Jude came back in the bedroom and said, "Well, that's figured out!"

"We were talking about dreams in general and how, sometimes, people in your dreams actually represent other people, or a specific feeling or fear. And we were talking about recurring dreams and nightmares and I mentioned that one that I had for about fifteen years. She didn't know what I was talking about. I said, 'Well, I may never have told you because it involves Aunt Maxie and Mike [Jude's brother]. I probably didn't want to upset you.'"

"Tell it to me fast honey, the cell phone's beeping that my battery's dying."

"OK. I'm just a little girl. Mike and Aunt Max are babysitting me and I do something that makes them very angry. It's night time. They put me in the back seat of Mike's big old Ford and we drive out to this corn field. We get out of the car there in the dark and I can see there's a hole in the ground, already dug. They put me down into the hole, and they bury me alive."

"Oh my God!" Wilma said. And then the phone went dead.

Like, Urgent

2008-08-11T22:09:00.000-07:00

We don’t trust the veterinary company where we've been taking Jackson. We signed him up for the annual cat care plan they sell you as if it’s insurance, though they steer well clear of that word. It’s about $300 a year, but oh! what you get. Thousands and thousands of dollars in savings for the tests and tune-ups he simply must have annually, quarterly, monthly; whatever the vets' fiscal calendar requires. The whole clinic is twenty-year-old girls who wear pajamas to work and speak with no punctuation. You pay that money, and they call and leave you messages: “This is Banfield Pet Hospital calling about Jackson it’s time for his physical and dental exam day after tomorrow all day we look forward to seeing Jackson.” So we take him in and, guess what? There’s something wrong with him. Every time. And it’s causing him pain. And we’d better jump right on it. Right now. Today. He’s in pain. Just like real estate agents, vets have a profit motive that is at cross purposes, I feel, strongly, with their oath.

This afternoon, after Jackson had been there a few hours, the receptionist called and she liked Jude that he, like, needed two teeth pulled. Like, right now. $147 (not $150). Jude said we can’t afford it. (We can – don’t worry, Mom.) So fifteen minutes later the actual vet called back and explained that Jackson is likely in great pain. Jude said we’ll get it handled as soon as possible. Then, two hours later, the same vet called again. Bad news. Jackson has diabetes, no doubt about it. He needs a special diet and insulin shots right away.

Like, suffering

So Lucy at work told me we should call her vet and get a second opinion. “Dr. Dillon’s wonderful,” she said. Dr. Dillon returned Jude’s call tonight at about 8:00 and they talked for 45 minutes. The second opinion will cost $200. OK, whatever – we really want to know if he’s at death’s door or not. Jude makes the appointment and they set up a new patient record in the vetabase.

“And what’s your kitty’s name?” Dr. Dillon asks.

“Jackson.”

“And does Jackson have the same last name as you?”

Jude takes the phone from her ear and looks at it, holding it the way Captain Kirk holds his communicator. “His last name is Bon Jovi,” she says into it.

Straight Talk

2008-07-30T11:24:00.000-07:00

Straight up, I denounce this. Please forward the link to everybody you know so they can denounce it too. But they should keep in mind it is true. A bunch of reporters were there when John McCain called his wife a cunt.

It's Funny, But It's Not

2008-07-24T10:10:00.000-07:00

This morning on the news I heard a guy say that the current bank failures we're experiencing are collateral damage from the all the people who’ve defaulted on their home loans.

PREMISE1: The bank lends money to the people, against the value of a house

PREMISE2: The people default on the loan

PREMISE3: Same time, the value of the house drops below the outstanding balance on the defaulted loan

CONCLUSION: The bank's failure is collateral damage

Get it? Get it?!

Call Your Senators About Spying and Retroactive Immunity

2008-07-02T14:35:00.001-07:00

From Glenn Greenwald today:

Blue America has created -- and today unveils -- a superb new tool for contacting key Senators to urge them to vote against the FISA bill and/or to vote for pending amendments to improve the bill (if any of those amendments pass, a key benefit will be that the bill then must return to the House or be reconciled, rather than going straight to the White House for signing):

This first tool allows you to directly contact Senators to tell them to stand up for the rule of law and vote in favor of the Dodd-Feingold-Leahy amendment. (That's S.A.5064 to H.R. 6304 which will come up for a vote on July 8th, 2008.) Not only will this tool help you phone your Senators -- including connecting your call -- but it also gives us the ability to track positions on FISA given your input on what you ascertain during your conversations.

You can read about how to use it here.

The USA Is Not Just a Place

2008-07-02T08:02:00.000-07:00

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Every year around Independence Day I like to re-read the Declaration of Independence. It's pretty good! These last few years the name "George" has kind of jumped off the screen for me, but here's the passage that really grabbed me this time:

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Most of the Declaration of Independence is a list of charges against King George. Jefferson and the other signers knew they had to make the case for independence from England, but I also think they knew they were laying down markers for future citizens. Since then, the geographic boundaries of the United States have expanded and the Constitution has been amended because Things Change. And, granted, from its inception the US has mistreated people and misbehaved. But if I ask you to sum up the United States in one word, what would you choose? Up until the Bush administration, and even now, most people around the world would choose a positive word. That's changing, though, and we'd better right our course or we'll be nothing but a piece of land.

Reading the Declaration of Independence during the Bush administration always causes me to sketch my own list of charges:

Ignoring pre-9/11 warnings;
Unjust, illegal war and occupation with inadequate troop protections and terrible planning;
Spying on Americans without warrants;
Negligence/incompetence;
Cronyism/corruption, including no-bid war contracts to the VP's own company and politicizing the judiciary;
Unprecedented secrecy in a government that should be of, by, and for the People;
Fiscal mayhem;
Tax cuts to the wealthiest during a time of war and record deficits;
US ports remain inadequately protected to this day;
Fascist blurring of Corporate, Religious and Government interests
Use of troops as political backdrops;
Forcing troops to be redeployed over and over rather than drafting the general public;
Blaming troops for institutionalized torture;
oh yeah: Torture;
Hiding prisoners from the Red Cross;
Lying;
Gutting of environmental protections (often by making them voluntary);
Claiming the right to unchecked Executive powers during times of war, combined with a no-exit, no-endgame, endless War on Terror with undefinable parameters.

Why, those bastards!

Anyway, Happy Fourth. Keep your thumbs off those cherry bombs!

Call Your Senators, Call Your Congresspeople

2008-06-26T08:52:00.000-07:00

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If you're not familiar with the FISA issue, this Glenn Greenwald post is a good place to start. It's actually a criticism of Keith Olbermann for failing to denounce Barrack Obama's new, mealy-mouthed position on the bill and, by extension, on the Fourth Amendment. For your convenience, here's the text of that Amendment:

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.

I've been writing every day to Senator "Change We Can Believe In" Obama, and to Senator "Ready to Lead on Day One" Clinton, and to my own reps in the House and Senate. I'm told emails are good, calls are better, letters and faxes (because they occupy physical space in their offices) are best. When I call, I always say:

1. My name and city/state. I'm calling to ask X's position on the heinous new FISA bill. (Remember, it's already passed the House -- the Senate is taking it up on July 8.)

2. I'm concerned that the bill retroactively immunizes telecom companies who may have assisted the Bush administration in illegally spying on me and other Americans.

Usually I'm told that the Senator/Congressperson hasn't reviewed the specifics of the bill because they're still being discussed. I answer: "Regardless of the specifics of the bill, what's her position generally on retroactive immunity? Is she against, generally, warrantless spying? Is she speaking out about it? Will she vote against any bill that contains these?"

Sometimes I'm told that the Senator/Congressperson hasn't released a position yet. So I ask: "Why not?"

And sometimes they'll throw out some distraction like, "I do know the Senator voted in favor of cloture ..." which only means he voted to stop debate; to block a fillibuster. If you follow that, fine -- pursue it. If you don't, go back to your point. "If he wants my vote, and my respect, he should go find a microphone and use his position to protect the Constitution. Where's he at on that?" etc., etc.

Sometimes I'll even ask the person who answers the phone what his/her position is on the matter. They're all policy wonks, so it's wicked hard for them to spit out, "I like illegal spying and retroactive immunity."

Obama said he'll support the heinous FISA bill, but that he'll try to stop the retroactive telecom immunity part of it. The trouble with that is that, at least when he said it last week, it was all for show. The Senate Majority Leader had crafted a doomed amendment just so Obama and others could say they tried to block the immunity. So the bottom line is the same: will the Senator vote against any bill containing retroactive telecom immunity, yes or no?

Here's a July 1 message from Senator Russ Feingold. He's kick-ass. He and Senator Chris Dodd have been leading the opposition to the current FISA bill:

Senator Chris Dodd also has a thing you can sign to become a Citizen Co-Sponsor of the Dodd/Feingold amendment to stop Retroactive Immunity.

75,000 – Sea of People Seeks Sea Change

2008-05-19T08:42:00.000-07:00

CNN's story mentioning Senator Obama's activities in Oregon over the weekend was decidedly understated (see paragraph 18). "Obama made low-key campaign stops this weekend, hitting a street festival in Keizer and stopping for ice cream in Eugene." Oh, and by the way Barack Obama --the black guy shown in the photos below-- also held a quick meet-up with some supporters at Waterfront Park in Portland.

Later CNN, on Campbell Brown's terrible show, used the rally story as a teaser throughout the hour. When they finally covered it, the angle was what a clever bit of stagecraft this was on the part of the Obama campaign. They said the Obama staffers shrewdly created a buzz by getting the word out that this would be the last chance to see the candidate before the Oregon primary (which was vote-by-mail and ended Tuesday, two days after the Sunday rally). Getting the word out -- shrewd. "Then!" said CNN, "Then on Thursday those clever stagecrafters put out the word that Michelle Obama would also be at the rally, potentially capturing some Hillary supporters." -?!? So, according to CNN this wasn't 75,000 people who wanted to show just how committed and excited they were. No, these rubes were being manipulated by a clever bit of Obama staffer stagecraft. Sorry Atlanta, but Keith is right: CNN blows.

Imagine John McCain is having a big, outdoor rally in your town. Would a thousand people go? Two thousand? Actually, it's hard to imagine it would happen at all. When McCain was in Portland a couple of weeks ago there were no free-to-the-public events and a paid ticket would set you back $1,000 to $33,100.

The Portland Obama rally was the largest to-date in the 15-month campaign, dwarfing his previous record crowd of 35,000 (nice try, Philly!). Portland police say we had 60K people inside Waterfront Park plus 15K all around the park perimeter, on the surrounding bridges, and down kayaking in the Willamette River. To Portland's great credit the thing was amazingly well-managed, with waits of about an hour to get in despite the TSA pat-down, and pretty easy traffic. And afterward the place wasn't covered in garbage -- it looked as if it had been vacuumed.

Incidentally, these photos are also useful if you want to picture how many troops we have in Iraq -- just double the size of this crowd. If you want to include the mercenaries, quadruple it.

In other news, I heard that Bill and Chelsea Clinton had breakfast just a few hours before and a half a mile away from the Obama rally at our favorite breakfast spot, Mother's Cafe and Bistro. What a shame the poor man can never order waffles! I hope they had a nice time doing whatever else they did on Sunday.

Let's Play VP Speculation!

2008-05-13T22:14:00.000-07:00

How about Virginia's Jim Webb for Vice POTUS? He was Assistant Secretary of Defense, then Secretary of the Navy under Reagan -- Reagan! He's the Republican-turned-Democrat who squeaked past incumbent Republican Senator George "Macaca" Allen in the 2006 election to switch the Senate majority from the Republicans to the Democrats. So he's a crossover guy who slapped down a racist bully and took his job. To me, he symbolizes the message voters tried to send in 2006.

Secretary of the Navy's not enough military credibility for you? OK: he graduated from the Naval Academy and went straight to Viet Nam as a 2nd Lieutenent Marine, where he earned a Navy Cross, a Silver Star, couple of Bronze Stars and two Purple Hearts. Oh, and his son served with the Marines in the occupation of Iraq.

So he's a badass moderate who's held a Cabinet position with the Department of Defense, switched parties during Bush, and represents the will of voters to move away from racist, codeword, phony cowboy guys. Also, he's technically from the south.

To all you NASCAR Dads: He's clearly not afraid to use -- and he knows how to use -- the military.

To all you Soccer Moms: He's got, very literally, skin in the game.

Downside: he has very little Congressional experience so although his resume is very long he, unlike LBJ or (hate to say it) Cheney, probably isn't a master at making deals and pushing legislation through. Joe Biden's your man for that, or Chris Dodd. Even so, I'm saying:

Obama-Webb 2008.

Get. That. Dirt off your shoulder.

2008-04-18T09:48:00.000-07:00

Do you know that Jay-Z song, "Dirt Off Your Shoulder"?

Well, this was brilliant. Yesterday was the day after the uber-craptacular ABC Clinton v Obama "debate" in Philadelphia where substance reigned a dream and trifling pettiness -- infantile bullshit about nothing, nothing, nothing of any importance -- was trotted out and "debated." Instead of coming out the next day and whining about it, Obama literally brushed it off.

Classy, right? But if you're a member of the 18-35 demographic (or if you're plagued, as I am, with arrested development) you're also likely to recognize this as a distinct nod to your society -- a society you may not have believed anybody knew about outside the shaking windows of your pimped out gangsta Honda CRV. Now, I know that "brush it off" is a well-known turn of phrase, and that's probably why most of the audience responded so well to it. That Jay-Z song, though, turned brushing dirt off your shoulder into a dance move, and anybody who knows the video (and that's a lot of voters) would be tempted to get up and dance with Barack when he did this. You think I'm kidding, don't you. I can tell you think this whole post is about boosting my shtreet cred. Maybe so. But let's take another look at that slo-mo:

To put this in perspective for people my age who actually act like it, Obama's bit of youth pandering was similar to Reagan's failed effort to connect to pop culture by invoking Springsteen's "Born In The USA," except Obama got the context right.

The point of the song is that one should stay cool under pressure. The point of Obama's gesture is that he's smoove like that.

Now, here's another piece of video sponsored by Schoolhouse ROC and the letter O:

Gotcha!

2008-04-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

At Safeway this morning I'm confronted with this little gem: if my cashier fails to ask me for a donation to Easter Seals -- a handout -- then I win **free water**. As if being asked to give money is a customer service. "Don't worry, folks! Our team of checkers will definitely put you in an uncomfortable position during your visit. We guarantee* it."

*Guarantee backed by the planet's most plentiful resource.

So I put my iPod earbuds in as I go through the line and I avoid any eye contact with my cashier. I have my music up so loud that others can hear it bzipping out of the little earbuds. I try to look angry. Sure enough, my cashier fails to ask me for a donation. I pull out the earbuds and I say, "You didn't ask me to donate! I get free water!" She gives me the look I deserve, I suppose, and she hands me a warm bottle of water.

She says, "Would you like to donate to Easter Seals?"

"No," I answer, opening my water bottle.

FlapScrap Makes its Endorsement

2008-02-04T18:33:00.000-08:00

Morning Plagiarism

2008-01-04T14:35:00.000-08:00

Statistics are meaningless. If they were at all true, both shoelaces would break at the same time.

I've got to get these scat photos organized or I'll go crazy

2007-11-09T08:52:00.000-08:00

Ever turned off the "moderate filtering" setting on Google images? It's a time-passer, I'll say. While arguing with my boss about the economy and taxes yesterday, I was looking for a chart showing the national debt since Reagan. I Googled some pretty innocent phrases like "trickle down" and found that pretty much anything you enter returns at least some porn.

In particular, the FX sector of the porn industry (Feces and eXcrement) seems to be exploding. Talk about supply side economics! Talk about your derivatives! Talk about a bubble that's certain to burst! And don't get me started on asset allocation and bell curves!

I know some people who could really get in on the ground floor just providing product to the FX sector of the dirty movie (now, don't get me started!) business.

Anyways. We're Googling away and, splat! "Did you see that? Did -- did you see that?" A naked lady making a doo-doo. What's that about? I mean, I'm not shocked, I'm not delicate, but I have to admit I'm dismayed. I just want to say, "Hey sexyturd.com, why are you so into the scatology? Why so literal? You're so into it that you've got your own website about it and -- I'm sorry to say -- you kind of hit people over the head with it. Over on the left you've got a list of recommended links to other poop sites. Are there any you rejected, or do you just accept whatever comes down the chute?"

Or maybe it's not an obsessive fetish, but just some guy (we know it's a guy, right?) who had a whole pile of photos of poop-covered gals scattered around the den and he just wanted to get them all into a relational table structure or searchable archive. Maybe he just thought, "Well, it's an enormous heap of snapshots. I can't just shit-can them." Hell, I looked twice at them, right? I'm the first to say I took a look. When I happened upon them. Unawares. In hindsight, I'm pleased to say I'm not in the targeted demographic for this material. And that my boss and I pinched off the taxation conversation and turned instead to social conservatism.

Mission Accomplice

2007-10-24T09:17:00.001-07:00

Got so all-fired mad I went and made me a bumper sticker. Beware, tyrants! You shall know the sting of my scorn!

If you're a Halliburton stockholder, you'll be happy to know the value is up – it was under $10/share in November, 2002; today it's just over $40. It seems to me if we could make it a crime for companies contracted for wartime goods & services to make more than, say, a 1% profit on those contracts this whole tent show might pack right up. I wonder what they charge us to FedEx a body from Baghdad back stateside – $5K? $10K? $50K? Whatever it is, the margin must be pretty good for the stock to have quadrupled.

So I channeled my anger over war profiteering into a bumper sticker of dissent.

But now, if you really want to see people honoring the Chicago Seven school of activism, take a look at this Code Pink protester, Desiree Farooz. This was earlier today just as the Secretary of State walked in to testify to the House Foreign Relations Committee that Iran is "perhaps the single greatest challenge to US national security." (Sound familiar?)

This photo is simply iconic (credit Charles Dharapak, AP).

Here, a little later, is White House Press Secretary Dana "Venti Cappuccino" Perino responding to a question about an innocent Canadian whom the US kidnapped and shipped to Syria to be tortured. He was held for a year until Canada was able to get him released. Perino couldn't comment on this particular war crime because – although it was perpetrated 5 years ago – she hadn't seen Secretary Rice's brief, shrugging, mistakes-were-made blow-off of the topic during today's hearing. In place of addressing that question, though, Perino went out of her way to say she thinks, based on "a picture" she saw, that today's Code Pink protest was "despicable." That's a word that means something ought to be despised. Indeed, for shame!

Even at $40/share*, Halliburton stock is probably still a good bet (NYSE: HAL).

*Advertised Halliburton share price does not include the value of your soul.

Monday morning, 08:20

2007-09-17T08:39:00.000-07:00

Why I'm moving the coffee pot out of my office:

“... so I don't know if I pulled it or pinched it. And I was thinking, ‘I hope I don’t have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.’ But anyway. That was. Not an issue ... Are we out of two-percent?”

Free Brochure

2007-09-14T09:35:00.000-07:00

.
A few fans of FlapScrap will sometimes wander to my little sister's little spin-off blog when they're scouring the internet for references to me. There was a dearth of those on her little site this past week or so (a paucity) after I showed her a photo of my friend's kid who is prettier than her little girls.

But yesterday all the lines lit up when, for sweeps week I guess, she dedicated an entire post to a bagel I'd recently discarded. That post inadvertently created a blog buzz when she also mentioned she'd pulled a couple of first-round promo poster proofs out of my trash for the upcoming Flapjack Thundercrack Smack-dab Can't Fail Off-the-Rails Yard Sale™, tentatively scheduled for October 26-28. When you rabid FlapScrapper hordes got an online glimpse of just a corner of that poster you launched a frothy clamor for more. Much, much more!

So, feast your winkers:

It's a first draft, but we usually stop there anyway to preserve spontaneity. Of course this poster is only one component of a major Yard Sale marketing blitz that will include all the conventional channels – print, electronic, direct mail, outdoor, pop-ups, ringtones, skywriting, shoutouts, and doorknob hangers – plus a few product placement surprises in the new season of "Lost." This particular poster is designed to be included in gift bags at the upcoming impeachment hearings.

This Yard Sale has been a dream of ours for a long time now. Some of the merchandise we'll be offering has been boxed up since we decided we couldn't live without it ten years ago in Eugene, before we moved to Richmond, before we moved to San Francisco, before our most recent move to Portland. With all the moving van miles this stuff has traveled it's got a bigger carbon footprint than a NASCAR night race. We're very excited to finally crack open the boxes, find all the bubble-wrapped stuff, carefully unseal and reveal it, and stick a round yellow dot on it: "$1."

I'm also thinking about selling fresh flapjacks and hotdogs on the sidewalk during the event ("Swine in a Sweater^®! PIPE-ing hot!"), but discussions of all the details are ongoing.
.

Angst Addiction

2007-09-11T10:33:00.001-07:00

I'm seriously considering a change in lifestyle -- more reading, more bike riding, less electronic media -- because I find that the more audio-visual stimulation I get, the more I want. It can become a little immoderate.

When I was a kid, my Dad watched the weather report every evening on the TV news. I know what you're thinking: he had to because he was a blimp pilot. But he wasn't a blimp pilot. And I'm the same way except instead of traffic & weather my drug of choice is political news -- and no, I'm not a Prime Minister.

On nine-eleven, when all the mayhem was unfolding, I was in our apartment in San Francisco with Jude watching news and flipping all around the web. Hour after hour after hour, watching that replay video and listening for even the slightest new piece of information. It was like drinking a lot of coffee on an empty stomach.

And I remember that evening we went out and had dinner in a restaurant. We felt a little weird about it, as if our going out for a meal was a violation of the sanctity of the day's events. But, walking around the City, we passed our local firehouse at dusk and noticed flags had been added to the trucks, and we saw candles in a lot of peoples' windows, and we found to our surprise that the restaurant was busy.

As I moved the salt and pepper shakers around, unrolled my silverware, and talked with Jude I realized that I'd spent most of the day preoccupied not with what had happened to all those people, but with what else might happen. I'd wanted an overview of the entire story arc -- how big is this thing? That's natural enough, I guess, considering that if the overall story were large enough it might actually affect my own life, or even death. But we'd actually done nothing all day and were exhausted by evening just from trying to find the beginning and the end of the story, like two ends of a huge, wet, tangled rope. Since the mission of news sites and shows is to find more news and keep you watching, you never find the end.

But walking hand-in-hand to that restaurant, looking at the candles and sitting with all those strangers, I felt for the first time that day that I didn't care at all what might be happening on CNN. I ordered the special, butternut squash ravioli with saffron, and a glass of wine. If San Francisco were to be attacked that evening and the restaurant incinerated, I'd find out soon enough.

Watch This Space

2007-09-09T22:15:00.000-07:00

Nine/Ten is the dark and holy day, fellow believers. Keith Everyman is putting a crease in his stonewashed Oscar DeLaRentas and striding down to face the judge. Head held high! Shackled! Wrongly accused!

What will transpire? Will Keith's machine-gun line of questioning cause Officer VonStrasburg to break down on the stand, mewing like a kitten? Although we can expect the mainstream press to continue to ignore this story, the entire blogosphere is watching this space for the exclusive poop on the matter.

UPDATE: DATELINE 09102007, 1230 hours

Keith showed up for court one hour late and missed his name being called. So he had to wait through all the other miscreants for the judge to re-address him. He scolded Keith for being late and, like me, Keith doesn't respond well to scolding so he made an excuse ("I got here at 9:30 [ed. note: it was 10:00] because I had to go back to my car to leave my briefcase [ed. note: HA!]"). The judge asked if that took 30 minutes. Yada yada, long story short: new court date in two weeks.

And you know what? You may have to follow this story on some other civil rights site because I was really kind of counting on it being over today. I'm already backing the Democrats and the Cubs; I can't take on any more heartbreak.

Flapjack Poetry Slam

2007-09-07T13:14:00.000-07:00

.
A lady from North Carolina
Was referred to a doctor from China.
She wrongly deduced
That he tried to seduce her:
He said she'd acute angina.

The mistaken lady from North Carolina.

.

E X C L U S I V E !

2007-09-06T20:33:00.000-07:00

Just a few short days before his epic trial date, we contacted Keith Everyman to request a sit-down:

Mr. Keith,

Would you be willing to answer a few questions regarding your upcoming day in court?

Adoringly objectively,

Peter Cojones, Newsman

He replied:

Little Peter, I'm a man of few words, and the thought of answering questions for public review is a daunting one. The rationale that helps me find my voice is that the People need to know. I personally believe that our education like such as South Africa and The Iraq everywhere like such as ... and so that we will be able to help build up our future, for our children.

So we put a few questions to him:

Tell me, Keith, how you feel tonight.

Tiny Peter, I ate pasta stuffed with cheese for dinner tonight. The pan of water took a solid 10 minutes to come to a boil. Knowing that a watched pot will ne'er boil, I tried not to look and distracted myself by eating Cheeto's^®, Frosted Flakes^®, and two of those Zingers^® - the red ones. I don't really feel that good.

Do you plan to put up a fight?

I'm hoping the judge and jury are reasonable, right-thinking folks who understand what it means to get their asses kicked.

Do you feel that you've had the breaks?

Well, I will say that I have a wide stance.

What would you say were your big mistakes?

Speeding.

Do you think that you may retire?

There was nothing wrong with the tires.

Did you think you would get much higher?

I don't understand why I let the things I did get so out of hand in the first place. I probably could have managed better if I'd had a plan.

How do you view your coming trial?

I view it on my calendar, between Meet the realtor and Call Jim & follow up.

Have your friends proved at all worth while?

My friends are a pack of scurrilous, indolent, slack-jawed mouth breathers. But I wouldn't trade a single one of them to save my entire family. Throw in a bass boat? Still, no.

Who's prettier, Anjelina Jolie or Sophia Loren?

Either one would have torn out of Strasburg without a ticket.

Care for a doughnut?

Thank you, yes, I might have one.

Returned to the Bossom

2007-09-02T18:14:00.000-07:00

Tony's home!

My company's CEO, Mike Sherman, heard Tony had landed in Washington state but would likely be stuck there over the holiday weekend, so he sprang into action. He uses his plane to do "Angel Flights," a charity where plane owners run medical patients around the region. He told me that on Friday he'd be carrying a couple of patients up to Seattle, and that he'd love to snag Tony in Tacoma and fly him home. Numbers and emails were exchanged and, Friday evening, Tony landed safe and sound in Eugene. Thanks Mike!

Billie'd sent an email which went semi-viral, and so Tony was met on the tarmac by about 40 or 50 friends and family. Ladies cried, men cheered, and children waved brightly-colored flags. Tony made a little speech before we all headed out for pizza, and everybody got their first rock-solid night of sleep in a long while.

Call the Gas Company Before You Dig

2007-08-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

Word on the internets suggests that the US and world economies are bracing for a major blow in September. Sorry to be a “sky is falling” guy – I really don’t know what I’m talking about, but I do read a lot of internet press and there are alarm bells ringing rather loudly.

Here, we see one of many reports suggesting the imminence of an attack on Iran (US, Israeli and possibly UK) “likely to be on a massive multi-front scale but avoiding a ground invasion.” Just skim the bullet points.

And look here this week, under the headline “Video: US Comptroller says America is facing total collapse.” That's on "60 Minutes."

Not mainstream enough for you? Not immediate enough? In the Dow Jones Financial News we see that an anonymous investor last week bet 6.9 billion Euros that European markets will drop by a third (read "crash") by the end of September, 2007. The keyword here appears to be "volatility."

Maybe it’s all just an orchestrated propaganda effort to stimulate the economy – hoping we’ll all go to Home Depot for plywood and concrete to build our shelters, and to Costco for canned goods to stock them.

Or maybe we’re really reaching the end of the new Roman Empire, and the best thing to do is just prepare to adapt. I do like the idea of Cascadia, the new country made up of the region from Vancouver BC south as far as San Francisco. Mexico can have L.A., and half the Midwest is already run by the Taliban.

Sorry to get heavy with you, babies. I see all this stuff, then I look out the window and birds are chirping, the sun is shining, people are saying, "How do you do?" ... just like that beautiful September morning back in 2001.

Politically, with the people of the US so ready now to respond to Big Idea candidates and so interested in local solutions to energy and environmental threats, I find it rather exciting that we may be backing toward the cliff's edge. We seem to do our best work under pressure.

We now return you to that video of Miss South Carolina.

Third base!

2007-08-24T08:21:00.000-07:00

I took the train downtown last night to meet Jude, have a little Thai food, and ride home together in the car she drove to work. Heading home, as we got into the Ford, I tossed my novel in the back seat.

"What's the book you're reading?" she asked, very kindly.

"What is the What," I answered

"What's the book you're reading?" she said.

"What is the What," I answered.

"WHAT. IS. THE. BOOK. YOU'RE. READING."

It's a fictionalized account of the life of a Sudanese refugee turned U.S. immigrant, by Great Writer Dave Eggers. The story is really engaging, and the title is hiiiiiiiilarious.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon

2007-08-22T08:21:00.000-07:00

Jude got a call last night from Tony in Baghdad saying he was getting on a plane and headed, eventually, after a few stops, home to Eugene Oregon. Needless to say, we're very proud of him and very relieved.

On his way out the door he also sent this note to his entire address book:

>From: "Siebers, Anthony R CPT TF 134, Civil Affairs, J9"
>Subject: I'm Coming Home
>Date: Wed, 22 Aug 2007 04:28:44 +0400
>
>Family,
>
>Well my tour has come to an end and what a ride it has been. In a few
>short hours I depart Baghdad for my journey to Ft. Lewis, WA and then
>home to Eugene. I anticipate arriving in Washington State by Monday
>Morning (your time) and expect to touch ground at the Eugene Airport
>some time between Wednesday and Saturday.
>
>I really wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for the support while
>I was over here. From care packages, Christmas gifts, Birthday cards,
>stuff for the troops, support for Billie and the kids and even just the
>emails to say hello, your support helped us through an extremely trying
>and nerve racking time.
>
>Much has changed in my life over the past year and I am not exactly sure
>what that face of change will look like to you all when I return. Above
>all, I hope, and believe, that you find a more humble, confident, proud,
>and thankful man who is determined to spend some quality time with my
>loved ones and use my experience to become a better Husband, Father,
>Son, Servant and Leader.
>
>Thank you again for the love and support! I am anticipating a time in
>the not to distant future in which I will be able to thank you all in
>person.
>
>Very Respectfully,
>
>Tony

Let me add our thanks to his for all the thoughts, wishes and inquiries we've received during his (final, we hope) deployment. Now that he's returning I'm looking forward to crushing him at 8-ball and asking him, repeatedly, "Do you know how I know you're gay?"

By the way, if you're interested in what his assignment has been while in Iraq, Newsweek did an article on it here.

Atlantis

2007-08-21T10:19:00.000-07:00

With hurricane Dean blowing into Mexico about now, I'm reminded that just shy of two years ago we all – or most of us – saw Katrina gathering in the Gulf. (That's the Gulf of Mexico, not the Gulf where we sent the world's best military and a trillion dollars.)

A few days after the storm hit, a co-worker and I wrote a little song about it to the tune of The Who's "Athena." If you don't remember this terrible song and you want to find the groove, you can hear a snippit here.

“Katrina”

Katrina, took my house and made me wait for FEMA
Feels like treadin’ water for a week with emphysema
Just one nudge from her and those levees were long gone
I get my galoshes on
She's just a whirl; Superdome

Katrina, I waded into Wal Mart to get some beans-uh
They chased my black ass out with an M-16-uh
And Dubya told us what the good folks need to understand
He said, "Brownie, you the man."
She's just a whirl; neo-CON. Neo-CON!

Just a whirl, just a whirl
Just a whirl, just a whirl
Just a whirl, just a whirl
She’s just a whirl

Well I seen her, churnin' up the Gulf like an angry 'tweener
With Condi out buyin' shoes and George roastin' wieners
And Dick's got his eye on the oil and all of the petrol gas
Is he a Halliburton psychopath?
She's just a whirl; the new EnRON
She's just a whirl; the new EnRON

Leverage

2007-08-17T10:37:00.000-07:00

.
I've been trying to decide whether to move some of my action out of collateralized debt obligations and into trebuchets. Now, it's a no-brainer.

.

Not a Big Fan, Really

2007-08-08T07:54:00.000-07:00

I heard something about Barry Bonds breaking the all-time home run record, but I don't really know the details. I'd like to be able to chat about this with my co-workers. Can anybody help me out with a little background?

Like, who was the opposing team?

Mark Your Calendar

2007-08-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

When September 11 rolls around this year, would you like something to distract you from the fact that, since that watershed moment, our government has abused the sincere good will of the entire planet and has chosen instead to fear- and war-monger, and edge us ever closer to fascism?

Well I've got just the thing.

There is one man willing to stand up and fight the creeping forces of tyranny. There's a man who won't accept the slow, steady erosion of his rights. This man has a date with the dark side of the law: September 10, 2007. That's the day when our man Keith will go to court to dispute the speeding ticket unfairly administered to him by a pudgy town cop with a Napoleon complex -- I'll call him trooper VonStrasburg. Our young Keith was doing a little driving on a Sunday, helping poor people and heading to our Mother's house for a nice after-church dinner, when he was suddenly confronted with the demand to see his papers.

Keith handled the encounter superbly, asking the officer what type of equipment he had used to clock him, when it had last been calibrated, how fast the cruiser was going at the time. The officer responded with increasing annoyance and high-handedness, calling Keith "brother" while Keith called him "officer" and "sir."

I wanted to volunteer, "His name is Keith, your majesty. Like in Toby Keith?" but I kept my mouth shut and just took this awesome photo. Can't you just see the angry red marks those NASCAR shades must leave on his porcine little face? Oh, you've met this Jasper before. You remember this guy!

Come September 11, 2007 we'll know if justice still breaths in the Strasburg jurisdiction, for mighty Keith Everyman will have told it to the judge. In fact, he has vowed to die rather than pay this fine. At least I'm sure he'd vow that if you asked him, so don't bother asking him. Just watch this space and prepare to be inspired.

An Informed Citizenry

2007-08-02T13:15:00.000-07:00

I was driving down Sandy Blvd yesterday and passed Pirate's Cove, a nekkid lady pub where the building is shaped like a two-story lil' brown jug. Although the place looked the same as it ever has, the reader board sign out front said:

I thought it was kind of funny and also, because I'm an idea man, I thought they should have tied the stripper and pirate themes together with, "YO HO HO" or something about the giant jug.

But anyway, I forgot all about it until this morning on my drive to work when I saw THIS sign next door to the State Motel and the bowling alley on 82nd Ave -- fully three miles and a hard right turn from the Pirate's Cove:

And thus my faith in humanity was once again renewed. Tonight my beer dollar goes to the very funny people at the Red Room.

Ka-blam-o!

2007-07-23T16:09:00.000-07:00

Our week in Virginia with the family was soooo relaxing that, now, writing about it feels like a damn term paper. Fortunately, unlike term papers, blogs allow pitchers.

I did NAME my photo files so you can click on them and see my very brief thoughts, but that's as far as I'm going in terms of writing copy. For several people I didn't get a good photo (Ellen, Diane, me ... and Sue, who couldn't make it -- we missed you, Sue!).

Unscrupulous

2007-07-19T19:05:00.001-07:00

I read an article about an online contest  for the "Most Photoshopped Magazine Image."  Redbook took the prize
with this heavily heavily heavily retouched shot of already-hot-without-Photoshop Faith Hill. You can see they
chipped away at her shoulder, rib cage, face, made a right arm out of the flesh they clipped from her left ... if you
look closely at the better/stronger/faster Faith, you'll see that even her earrings are slimmer.

But nobody even told me there was a contest! Had I known, I'd have submitted the raw negatives in my possession from the cover shoot for this month's issue of Piece magazine, because they make this Redbook scandal look rather quaint:

This sort of photo manipulation only adds to the already-unrealistic expectations and negative body image syndrome (NBIS) suffered by women and girls throughout our culture. I'm just looking out for the children, here.

Impeach

2007-07-04T08:23:00.000-07:00

From Sidney Blumenthal's article in Salon on the Scooter Libby commutation:

Since 1776, on every July Fourth, the Declaration of Independence has been posted in public places, published in newspapers and read aloud. Its bill of particulars contains these two passages defining royal tyranny and justifying revolution:

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.
... For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments.

Happy Fourth.

Bliss

2007-07-03T23:10:00.000-07:00

An Oscar Mayer commercial came on last night where the wienermobile is shown heading down the road on its way to a big spelling bee. Later in the spot we see the contestants spelling BO-LO-G-N-A, but first we get to watch the giant hotdog driving into an underground parking garage.

“There goes the huge wiener into the tunnel,” Jude said, literally nudge-nudging me, then glancing, then repeating, “driving that big hotdog deep into the tunnel.”

“Um-hmm,” I answered.

“I’m gonna stop joking around with you,” she said, arms folded. “You don’t appreciate my stuff. I guess I’m going to need to sharpen up my material before we head off to your big family reunion Banterfest 2007.”

My baby believes in giving jest a rest, that’s true. Instead she’s focused on the world around us, on people, and on every beautiful thing that catches her eye. She has no patience for bad service or bad driving, but she feels genuinely for anybody who’s been harmed or mocked or who's received some good news. And she can spend a great deal of time (believe me) admiring and absorbing a piece of art.

When I’m touched by art, I immediately want to know more about the artist. Jude, though, just wants to know where she can see more of the art. Art is like food for her, while for me it’s like conversation. For Jude, conversation is conversation – talk of joys and troubles – and food, by golly, is one of the fine arts. You should see the food she cooks for us. It’s beautiful. That’s why, for me, having Jude cook us a meal and then sit down to talk over it is the best thing I can imagine.

I fell in love with Jude the first moment I ever saw her. I thought she was grounded (she is) and I thought she was sultry (verily, she is). On one of our first dates she brought a nice pinot noir over and I didn’t have any wine glasses, so we drank it out of the bottle, shyly wiping the lip with our sleeves as we passed it back and forth over our lasagna.

We don't have kids, and I don't think we will unless somebody leaves one on the stoop. But Jude raised Tony and Lacey, and now they both have kids so we're like renters instead of owners; we just have to return them, clean and on time, with the tanks full. They love Jude because her heart is rich with experience and they can sense that she's experiencing them. She makes them feel safe and she comes up with endless arts and crafts projects for them, long after I'd have put them in front of the TV.

Early in our relationship, she talked me into quitting a job I hated, and she moved with me all the way to Virginia, leaving behind everybody she knew in the world. My Dad told me once that a relationship requires submission, and I only came to understand that with Jude (again, verily!). There’s nothing either of us wouldn’t give up for the other’s happiness, understanding instinctively that it’s worth it, that we actually gain from it. On July 4, 1999, she married me and it still amazes me that, every day, I find I love her even more.

Pappa Bear

2007-06-17T19:42:00.000-07:00

Dad and I were talking on the phone a few weeks back. He was telling me about the new dust control system he's installing downstairs in his shop area, and I was saying, "Really? Really?" I had no idea of all the vacuuming stuff you could put in, and I wasn't exaggerating my enthusiasm.

What can I say? I love my Dad.

If you want good ideas, have a lot of ideas

2007-06-01T09:55:00.000-07:00

If you named your kid Reverend Doctor Captain, he could say, "That's Mr. Reverend Doctor Captain to you, sir."

Now what will we do?

2007-05-28T20:16:00.000-07:00

Guess. Who. Died: Charles Nelson Reilly.

Jude and I were at this vegan diner today having some stuff with chili piled on it, and watching all the people. We were saying how pleasant it is that we all like to entertain one another, with our hairdos, costumes, comedy routines and Big Speeches.

So, CNR is gone now. Did you know he won a Tony for "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying?" Me neither -- read it on CNN. I only ever saw him on Hollywood Squares. Anyway, thanks for everything, CNR.

Now, to entertain you, I've gathered some of CNR's classic Hollywood Squares moments here:

What are "dual-purpose cattle" good for that other cattle aren't?
CNR: They give milk... and cookies, but I don't recommend the cookies.

Jackie Gleason recently revealed that he firmly believes in them and has actually seen them on at least two occasions. What are they?
CNR: His feet.

According to Robert Mitchum, one thing has ruined more actors than drinking. What?
CNR: Not drinking.

Was Snow White a brunette or a blonde?
CNR: Only Walt Disney knew for sure.

You've heard of the phrase "A pig in a poke"...what's a "poke"?
CNR: It's when you're not really in love.

According to experts, the worst time for sex is right after...what?
CNR: Surgery.

True or false - a pea can last as long as 5,000 years.
CNR: Boy it sure seems that way sometimes.

Which of your five senses tends to diminish as you get older?
CNR: My sense of decency.

Back in the old days, when Great Grandpa put horseradish on his head, what was he trying to do?
CNR: Get it in his mouth.

Who stays pregnant for a longer period of time, your wife or your elephant?
CNR: Who told you about my elephant?

The Meaning of Life

2007-05-27T17:37:00.000-07:00

A couple of years ago I had a lunch conversation with a friend that still sticks with me. We were eating meatloaf sandwiches at the Airport Café, a few minutes from the shop where we both worked and we were talking about The Hottie, a woman he’d dated for a few weeks now. He didn’t even bother to tell me her name because he assumed she was too good for him and that, when she realized this, her name would disappear anyway, right along with her.

A few months earlier he’d bought a Porsche. He'd found it on craigslist.org and financed it with eLoans.com. They FedEx’ed him a check. He credited that car with winning him his presumed-doomed Hottie relationship, and he was telling me they’d driven it down to Napa for a four-day weekend. He was routinely taking her to $400 dinners, buying $100 wines, $300 Coach bags … swimming pools, movie stars. And I asked him during that lunch whether all of this was sustainable. He said, “I don’t know. I doubt it.” But of course the answer had to be, “No.”

Right away, though, I wondered why I would ask such a stupid question. Was I just trying to knock him down? As somebody who professes to have practiced a little Buddhism, where do I come off asking if something is sustainable? So I apologized for being a killjoy.

He said, “No, I honestly don’t know how far I’m willing to take this thing if she doesn’t hurry up and dump me. I’ve actually thought about borrowing against my house.”

I said, “Jesus, I thought I was a romantic. What ever happened to just jumping off a cliff?”

“That’s after she dumps me.”

I’ve always tried to find meaning in life through relationships with other people and through projects. I don’t believe in God, but I do see value in service and sacrifice, and certainly in love. The connectedness that can come from a good conversation or from rigging up a good system is, for me, where all the poetry is. I’m excited by the idea of Great Things, but I’m also very, very pleased when I see a really good birdhouse. So here was my buddy, eating cold meatloaf, talking about burning through everything he had and calling it a candlelight dinner.

I thought: is it more beautiful to recklessly risk everything for love, or to cultivate wisdom and open-hearted exchange? Or is this like asking whether Spring blossoms are superior to Fall foliage?

On Memorial Day, and knowing only one person directly involved in a war, I think this: for those swallowed up by something so big as war, may they feel that life is rich.

Jude with Isaiah, Kailey, and Sammy,
whose Daddy is in Iraq.

And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

From “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”
T.S. Eliot

Da-Da Mama

2007-05-10T19:26:00.000-07:00

When it comes to joking & joshing, my four siblings and I all tend toward cheap and/or dark and/or salacious material. Back in the day, with all of us vying at the dinner table, we learned early to go in fast and low for the pun, the vicious taunt, the thinly-veiled breast reference. To this day I still like a thinly-veiled breast.

My father's always been a pretty quiet man but, still, he's got to be the one to blame for his children's ricochet, drive-by banter because, Mom?, she's no sardonic wit. She's an absurdist. Whenever my Mom reaches into the clever quiver, you can count on her pulling out the "got your nose!" arrow every time. Why, that's absurd! You don't have my nose, it's just your thumb! And I'm 40 years old, for pete's sake!

Once at dinner I was talking and I paused, saying, "lost my train of thought." Mom said, "Maybe the dog ate it."

Ridiculous, you see? No dog could eat a train of thought. Why would you even think of saying that? ("Maybe it was a gravy train of thought," said Dave, in my head just now.)

My brother Dave, with his "Gadzooks!" and his vaudevillian stage whispering, actually didn't fall too far from the tree, come to think of it. He's been using the same goofy punch lines for a very, very long time (he's a Dad). Brother Keith, while pretty quick with a line, is a master of the single entendre and often leaves you going, "what was that supposed to mean?" Steve keeps his powder dry but then, whammo!, he'll pull the rug right out from under you with some very high comedy. And Lisa's just an unpleasant, humorless woman.

"Piss off."

But Mom, man she loves those non-sequiturs. I'm trying to think of another example. If I could, you'd see right here exactly what I mean. I don't know why I can't think of one. An example would help a lot. That's too bad.

When Mom was the age that I am now, well, that was 1980. She and Dad had five kids, all in high school and junior high, each involved in at least one illegal hobby. But even so, we knew the house rules. We knew to ask permission, and we knew what time dinner was and that we'd damn sure better be there and that we'd eat what we were having and not something else. Mom was pretty strict! But that just made us a bunch of comedians because, let's face it, strict is funny. In addition to her Momming duties, she was a Psych Nurse at the hospital (also funny). And she was a den mother, or whatever they're called, for Lisa's troupe of angry, humorless Brownie scouts (hysterically funny in their little paramilitary getups -- out there every day, fighting the Boy). Through it all, Mom has loved to sing and talk and make those pretty little jokes like she's talking to a retarded child.

If something really gets us all laughing, though, Mom gets serious and steps in on behalf of moderation and sobriety with her best-known catch phrase, "You know, that's funny but it's not." And then goes on to explain how, when the fat lady fell on the ice she may have busted her sacroiliac, which is very painful and requires years of PT. Thanks for all the straight lines, Mom!

It's funny, but it's not.

Without us really even noticing, she kept us all dressed (badly), schooled, unjailed, overfed, and showing up back at the house every night by lights-out. Above all, she kept us feeling safe enough to go out into the world without a fear. That's pretty good. Here I am in 2007 and I can't even remember to feed the damn cat every day. Thanks, Mom. Happy Mother's Day. Thanks for all your really dumb jokes. I love you!

Look out! He's coming to get you! (Just kidding!)

How Lame I Am

2007-04-09T13:51:00.000-07:00

At about 1:00 today I went to the vending machine in the break room and got myself a Snickers bar. There's a mini fridge in my office, so I put it in the freezer right next to the steaks. I set a reminder in Outlook for 4:00 that says "yum." But I don't need the reminder because I haven't stopped thinking about my delicious Snickers bar since I put it in there.

Counting Sheep

2007-04-06T07:42:00.000-07:00

When Jude can't sleep, she puts the TV on either QVC, Home Shopping, or one of the blacklight & semen shows on A&E. She feels strongly about the hosts on the shopping channels and, sitting up in bed all bleary having coffee this morning, she described last night's HSN hostess, Kellie, thusly:

"She's an idiot. And she dresses like a ho-bag. I think she's from Canada, which explains a lot because the French don't care how they look on TV. You watch their news shows and their hair, it's like, 'Did you just put on that poly-blend pullover right before the camera came on?' She looks like a trapeze artist walking home from a one night stand through the bad part of Topeka, with that circus music still clanging in her head. She's like a French Vanna White."

This is a mellow town, right here

2007-04-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

I was on the train after work yesterday and, just after the doors closed at the Lloyd Center platform, the conductor came on the P.A. and said, "We'll be just another minute. I need to check on something."

I read another page or two and then the train began moving again.

The voice came back on the P.A.: "There was a guy sitting on a bench back there. His eyes were wide open but he wasn't moving and he looked very pale. I poked him a little and, believe it or not, he was asleep. With his eyes open." Beat. "I thought you'd want me to tell you that."

He was absolutely right.

Travelogue

2007-02-17T11:28:00.000-08:00

Portland is just a smart town. Its situation at the top end of the Willamette valley, where that river flows northward into the mighty Columbia, set its destiny as a major port city. But that's not what I mean by smart: Back in the '70s, the city's officials set urban growth boundaries (which have been challenged constantly) that aimed to prevent sprawl. Now, 30 years later, our downtown is downright bustling -- I know it's a cliche, shut up. Great restaurants and shops, beatiful views, charming infrastructure -- and it's no fluke that the privately-owned and local Powell's Books is a city landmark. Smart town.

It's the weekend. Jude and I usually spend an hour or two on Friday night or Saturday morning rationalizing the doing of no work on the house and, instead, the going to downtown. Often, the best we can come up with is, "Well, we're gonna need some breakfast." We head through the pantry, full of Grape Nuts and pancake mix, out the back door to the car and downtown to Mother's.

Mother's has the best breakfast I've ever experienced anywhere. As a fan of truck stops, diners, B&Bs, omelet shops, sidewalk crepe stands, and even some microwave gas station cuisine, I'm easy to please -- but the field is that much wider in the competition for absolute best. Mother's wins. They're always busy, with sort of a French countryside decor, but in an early 20th century ironfront structure. They may not know your name when you walk through the door, but when you put it on the list (somehow it's always about a 20 minute wait, no matter how many people are there) all of the staff make an effort to call you by name. It's pleasant, like when they call you darlin' at a truck stop. Go ahead and use an alias if you want, Brad and Angelina. And the food is just unbelievable. We try to order something different each time, but my favorite is the bagels with lox. Sounds common enough, but the bagels are FedEx'd daily from Greenwich Village and the lox are fresh, wild, Alaskan salmon. Cup of coffee and a mimosa. Catch me, Jesus.

After a two-hour most important meal of the day, Jude says, "I need to return item X to store Y." This is to indicate that we're not going shopping, just reversing a transaction; not spending, but recovering money; we're working here, checking an errand off a nonexistent list. She is full of shit, and we were born for each other.

We tra-la through the afternoon, and I get some reading done from the novel I happen to have in my pocket. Around twilight I'm usually the one who mentions a movie review I saw (by the way, go see Pan's Labyrinth) and that seals it -- we are just lazy consumers. We get home around midnight, sleepily determined to get up early and work on the house all day Sunday, no matter what. Jude places a bag from Target by the front door, with a pair of 30-inch waist Levi's inside ...

Protected Habitat

2007-02-11T11:41:00.000-08:00

We took Mason and Maddy to see Happy Feet back in December. The other day we were watching them for Lacey and found that Mason is doing his part to save the penguin habitat. He's growing his own glacier for his pet penguin, Pengo (Lego^®-Penguin). First he froze some water (that's the recipe for ice) in a plastic mug. Then, when he judged the conditions were right, he introduced Pengo into the artificial environment. See the fishsticks on the shelf below? Mason has one fish stick he keeps in the freezer door, and every day he breaks a little off to feed Pengo.

Maddy is focussing her conservation efforts on walking around with ice stuck to her face. "Rook!" she says.

Please Lord, If I Live I'll Blog Every Day! Once a week!

2007-02-10T22:01:00.000-08:00

The following missive was received at FlapScrap Headquarters:

>From: Mom
>To: FlapScrap World Nexus
>Subject: Banned
>Date: Sat, 10 Feb 2007 20:35:07 -0500
>
>You have been banned from the United Bloggers Union of the United States of America for lack of blogging.
>!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It's been a busy week; ineptitude and psychopathology have been crowding my attention, causing me to neglect my distractions. Alas, to describe them further could threaten my funding sources.

Suffice it to say, though: this ban is unjust, and it shall not stand.

--Editor, F&S

From a Fan

2007-02-02T14:47:00.000-08:00

Postscript on the Batman: a fan of the site, NAMBLA666, wrote in to suggest:

Michael Chertoff, as (relatively new character) Black Mask

Very tidy -- thanks, NAMBLA666!

QUESTION FOR YOU KIDS AT HOME: WHO COULD HILLARY PLAY? huh? huuuh?

DC Comics

2007-02-01T14:31:00.000-08:00

I was listening to a radio show called The Young Turks and they were tossing around the idea of Dick Cheney playing the Penguin in the next Batman movie. So I got to thinking:

John Edwards, as millionaire Bruce Wayne
"I'm Batman"

Dennis Kucinich, Robin, the Boy Wonder
"Holy war on Islam, Batman!"

Dick Cheney, The Penguin
"Nyaaaaat. Nyat nyat."

Donald Rumsfeld, ? The Riddler ?
"There are known knowns. These are things that we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, these are things that we know that we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. These are things we don't know we don't know."

Karl Rove, The Joker
"Let's put a dead hooker in there somewhere."

Tony Snow's a good Two-Face ...
"I need to get a more precise definition."
--asked to define civil rights after he said banning gay marriage was a civil rights issue

... but central casting is really pushing Victor Yushenko for that role.
(Two-Face a.k.a. Too-Easy)

Nouri al-Malaki, Commissioner Gordon
"Send up the Bat Signal!"

Al Gore, Alfred

Condi Rice, Catwoman (sorry Halle)

Barack Obama, Mr. Clean
(not actually a Batman character, but it's topical)

George W Bush, King Tut
"I'm Tut! Master of Thieves, King of the Nile. And that's just on Mama's side of the family."

[Ed. note: we chose King Tut because he was a minor villian, but we are also considering casting Mr. Bush as Henchman #2]

and Arnold Schwarztnegger returns, as Mr. Freeze

"We have to make sure everone in California has a great job. A fantastic job!" --on unemployment

"The public doesn't care about figures." --on economics

"Don't worry about that." --on the environment

Balls O'Fire

2007-02-01T13:46:00.000-08:00

Lisa and Jeremiah's roof is leaking.

Got a Date with an Angel

2007-01-31T16:29:00.000-08:00

Jude works a few days a week in a little shop in the Pearl District. The Pearl is the converted warehouse district where lofts are half a million and the streets are paved with latte. It’s a very cool shop that sells antiques, jewelry, art & sculpture from the Thai region and from Central and South America. It’s called The Monkey and the Rat. Some of the images are weird because she was closing and had already shut off most of the lights last night when I took them, but they give you a sense of the place. Jude does all the displays and is constantly rearranging the whole place, and it's pretty big. She's happy as a hobo in a hot tub.

Since she closes at 6:00 and I get off around 5:30, we’ve established a pattern where I drive home and take a short walk over to the Max stop. I bring a book and read for 15 minutes during the ride downtown and I walk in right around 6:15.

The trains are free downtown, so we get back on together and ride over to this little Italian place and we sit in the bar playing Gin or Cribbage and have clams, Caesars, and a pasta dish, all from their cheap cheap happy hour menu.

The Italian place is right across from Border’s, Nordstrom, and Jude’s fave, J. Jill. We sometimes go into one or two of these hotspots “real quick.” Last night we went to Wild Oats after dinner – it’s a gourmet grocery – and we picked up some victuals. Then we went home. Life is good.

Sorry if this post seems scattered. I'm having all kinds of trouble with the software today, and it's screwing up my rhythm. Damn it!

Where was I. Oh yeah, life is good.

Anyway, here’s some of the evidence that we worked all weekend. We emptied the dining room of all non-dining items (everything), and we busted open the 3-year-old boxes containing the table and chairs we bought. The table is perfect for the room because it has curved drop leaves that make it circular if you’ve got a crowd. We’re going to keep the end curves open and the side curves closed, as a rule.

I also installed the lower doors on the built-in china cabinet. Thanks for the chisels, Dad! And thanks, Lisa, for saying the moldings are beautiful. Please look past the missing window bottoms shown here, to my shame. (Also, don't try to open the lower right cabinet door.)

When Tony Comes Marching Home Again

2007-01-30T14:57:00.000-08:00

Holy crap, I'm busy! One piece of news, though: I'll probably be in Virginia on in mid-February. It looks like it's going to be a mid-week meeting so, while I'll probably request a crash pad from Keith, I probably won't get to squeeze a weekend out of it.

On the weekend of the 17th/18th, Jude's son, Tony, is due to come home on leave from Baghdad to see his scheduled-to-have-been-born-by-then son, Isaiah -- my 5th grandchild. Top that, mofos! He only gets to be home for two weeks, then it's back to the trenches (ha ha).

For them's who don't know, Tony is a Captain in the army, commanding about 200 troops trained in chemical attack response and security. Since the WMD finds have been a bit thin, they're over there running a prison just outside of Baghdad and training the Iraqi police. We are very proud of him, and worried about him. Jude and I try not to watch too much CNN, but I must admit to being addicted to news, and I suspect Jude watches alone, too. Here's the family (so far):

Billie, Tony, Kailey, and Sebastian (Sammy).

Billie got trapped in Portland during the ice storm a couple of weeks ago and spent a delightful evening at our house. I took a snapshot.

Last time I talked with Tony, he said the Iraqis he's working with are some very impressive guys. They really care, and they're really dedicated. Most of them have to sleep at the prison and only go home occassionally, and when they do they have to be snuck in and out to avoid exposing their families to violence. He said many of them speak English, and some even went to school in the US. One guy was actually taken prisoner by the US in the first Gulf War, was released, and went on to get his degree in Seattle, then joined the US army, and is now one of Tony's troops. It was Christmas eve day in Iraq (they're 11 hours ahead of Oregon time) when I last got to talk with him. He had organized a Christmas day 5K run for anybody who wanted to (not the prisoners).

OK, the end -- back to work.

Weak-ass Post

2007-01-29T13:28:00.000-08:00

My productivity to blogging ratio for the last few days has heavily favored the productivity side. That means everybody except you lurker surfers is happy with me. And who cares what you think?

The house actually looks like a house. The basement is clean(er), the tools and lumber are all downstairs, the living room is nicely laid out with rugs, some art, and even furniture. [By the way: want to buy a loveseat and a chair-and-a-half w/ottoman?]

You may be wondering, "Why doesn't this post contain any photos?" (Keith, particularly). Well, I left my USB cable in the other car. I guess I'll come back later and update this post with some photos -- photos of the furniture, maybe.

For now, here's one of my favorite pictures of Jude:

Don't Overthink It

2007-01-26T18:54:00.000-08:00

I told you about my boss who wouldn't drive in the snow, but I actually have two bosses -- brothers, Mike and Steve. They inherited the company from their father, and they're accustomed to a wealthier lifestyle than I am. Aside from our money, though, Steve, Mike and I share a common boyishness. We rely on our wives and our heroes to tell us when to pretend manliness, but left on our own we just quote Bill Murray, make poopy jokes, and play Businessman.

At the end of the day yesterday I went to Steve's office where they both were talking and I said, "You know I really have nothing much to do tomorrow. Mind if I take it off?" They told me that it was a bad idea because

a. I shouldn't tell my bosses I have nothing to do, and

b. I shouldn't let my staff see me taking a slow day off because it might cause them to panic, thinking the company is faltering

To be the boss is to be critiqued and analyzed - every decision is an illustration of your own beliefs, fears, hopes. When I'm mercilessly assessing Mike and Steve, I try to remember the seven people I manage are assessing me, too. I mean, I use very unnatural sports metaphors like, "Well, sometimes you gotta play hurt," or I'll make one of them stand there while I show off my amazing spreadsheet skillz. I hope they don't have cruel nicknames for me, but I have one for Mike: Crazy Eye.

If you write a two-paragraph email to Mike, you can be damn sure he didn't read the second; go ahead and fill it with invective or confess to white-collar crimes. He's always advising me to "use my gut" and "don't overthink it." So it surprised me when I first learned he was becoming a pilot. Flying involves maps, coordinates, clear communication, and 3D thinking that I just didn't associate with him. But when he's into something, he really gets it.

So, this afternoon Mike comes to me and says he's going to test-fly a plane he's thinking about buying, and would I like to go. "So long as you're caught up on your work," he says. "Well," I say, "I certainly have a lot to do. A lot. But I think I can carve out 80 to 200 minutes."

We took off from Portland and landed at a small, regional airport, then took off again and landed back at Portland. We had an instructor with us who, at one point, seized control of the aircraft when we were in (alleged) danger of hitting another plane on approach to the small airport. Without warning he put the plane into a hairpin 180 that felt like the right wing had reached the end of its leash. Later Mike explained to me that he wouldn't have hit the other plane, so that's very good.

Here are some shots from the Friday I had to come in to work.

Ice Man

2007-01-24T16:34:00.000-08:00

When we were kids, my twin brother, Keith, and I used to mix it up pretty regularly. We were evenly matched, so the combat was usually confined to body blows until somebody broke us up.

My brother Steve, though … when riled, he would punch me in the face and just saunter away, clearly wound up but with absolutely no bluster. One time he did that and I fell backward into an outside corner, and I pretended that I might have a spinal cord injury. I screamed and screamed so much our Mom – a nurse who’d have spotted the phoniness in a less gifted actor – actually took me to the hospital. But as I was being wheeled out to the car Steve whispered in my ear, “next time I’ll take a finger,” his icy breath on my neck. Not much bothers him, but he has no patience for anything that does.

When he wasn’t attempting murder, Steve was always the fashion-forward kid in the family – still is, really. Check any old family photo and you’ll spot the plaid pants and wire-frame glasses right away. Player! He listened to Journey while we were playing the Who. He reads Italo Calvino, I read Elmore Leonard, Keith can’t even read, and Dave and Lisa are both just totally into truckstop porn novellas. Steve painted an undulating rainbow tri-stripe on an antique white base all the way around the perimeter of his bedroom, and he went out and bought a special, flat toggle light switch -- wired it himself. He’s, like, 11, he does this.

Later he got a degree in Landscape Architecture and now he works in: Landscape Architecture.

Today’s his birthday, and he looks great for 44. He’s beginning to turn into a really nice guy. Recently he even gave me my favorite excuse for calling in sick: “hurt my back fucking.” But he’ll pass 100 before my fingerless nightmares cease.

I Had a Big Lunch

2007-01-23T15:55:00.000-08:00

Jude left some outbound dry-cleaning hanging on the front doorknob this morning, and she gave me a Holiday 6-for-$25 car wash coupon that she noticed contained no expiration date. My lunchtime was teed up.

The Washman is right across the street from Burgerville. If you don’t live in the Pacific Northwest, you don’t know the place: it’s really good fast food. Like, lobster on a stick, free-range chicken filet … me, I like a turkey burger with (wait for it) sweet potato fries. It’s like a lunchpail Thanksgiving. Then I ride through the frikkin' car wash, eating. Great Satchmo's satchel!

As an added bonus, today I get the carwash buttnugget who's going to tell me that they no longer honor the 6-for-$25 deal – that was a holiday offer, you see.

“Where’s the expiration date?”

“Well, see, this is nothing, OK. This is just an ad selling the offer, but we don’t even have this anymore.”

“You don’t have carwash coupons?”

“No – yes, we do.”

“Good, give me 6 for $25.”

“Well, we have the coupons and it’s pretty much the same deal now but you get 5 for $25.”

“But it’s pretty much the same?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, then give me 6 for $25.”

And on like that until they pony up, and all the time I’m enjoying my sweet fries, using the force on this guy.

Then, the dry cleaner, Mrs. Chow. “Oooooh, long time no see!” she says.

“I know, look at me – I’m wet and filthy.” She laughs her ass off; "better get dry clean, then!" she says. My sense of humor is well suited to people for whom English is a second language.

Back in the car I’ve got Al Franken’s whine-saucey show on the radio, and tonight is State of the Union Flyboy Smackdown.

“What do we want?”
“The least bad way out of Iraq!”

“When do we want it?”
“As soon as possible without allowing the situation to further devolve into an utterly chaotic bloodbath!”

Finally, I head back toward work, but I still have about 15 minutes and about 15 fries. I work right near the airport, south of Mt St Helens (I’ll try to get a shot next time the steam spews) and west of Mt Hood. At the airport, we have an Air National Guard base. The F-15s take off and land several times daily, patrolling the spacious skies for suspicious guys. I can park right at the end of the runway and see the jet bellies as they launch. Fries with that, please! Sweet Masters & Johnson!

Today, no jets, but a nice view. See? We’re getting an Ikea, so there will finally be something to do around here.

Forgot to tell you ...

2007-01-22T19:01:00.000-08:00

Maddy came downstairs for dinner the other night with a towel over her head. Lacey said, "What's with the towel, honey?" No answer.

"Honey?"

"I did something."

"What did you do? ... Maddy?"

She pulled the towel off and stood there quiver-lipped for a second. She'd cut her own hair, pretty short, right in the front, right in the middle. Just before she burst into tears, she yelled, "I'm ugly!" and ran into the bathroom. Lacey went through an initial rotation of responses before landing on the one that basically goes, "Well, now what should we do?"

"We could try headbands," Maddy said, clearly having given the matter some thought. So they tried some, and -- long story short -- they didn't help much.

During that bathroom interlude between Maddy and Lacey, Mason had gone upstairs. When he returned, he'd done the same damn thing to his own hair. Lacey said, "Mason! Why did you DO that?"

"I didn't want Maddy to be the only ugly one."

Aaaaawwwww.

Just Outside of Barstow

2007-01-21T17:04:00.000-08:00

It's Monday now and I'm sitting in the Portland airport. My flight to SFO is delayed, so I'm camping in an airport cafe that masquerades as a quirky little local place. I always think of Hunter Thompson during these airport refugee situations, but I never can muster the HST urgency when I’m stuck waiting. I’m OK at hunkering down, so long as I have some notion of the wait duration. This morning, it’s an hour – so this is no mescaline trip. See the crazy look in my eyes? (Photo credit: Negligent Waiter.) It says, look out everybody, you never know what I might do!

I’m not in sales, but I’m going to San Francisco to help my company’s new sales person migrate one of her old clients from her old job to our company. Like that? Migrate? God, I wish I had a laser pointer.

Over the weekend, we found we’ll be having company to the house for dinner in a couple of weeks. As I’ve mentioned, our house has been under construction for five years. We decided we’ll need to assemble the dining room table and chairs we bought about three years ago.

To do that, I’d need to move the pile of lumber currently occupying most of the living room and part of the dining room. To do that, I’d need to get rid of the pile of now-refuse lumber in the basement; this is the old, crappy trimwork some underachiever installed ten years ago that I thought I might be able to reclaim. Nope. To do all of this, we’d need a hearty breakfast. So we went out for breakfast and read the weekly alternative papers.

After breakfast, though, we did get started. After about two hours of maneuvering crap up out of the basement, we wound up with a driveway full on Saturday, and the promise of a trip to the dump with the coming of the rosy-fingered dawn. I love the dump.

Sunday night was Maddy’s sixth birthday – so we all went to Red Robin to celebrate in style. Maddy is Lacey’s daughter. Lacey is Jude’s daughter. Whenever we go out, Lacey’s boy Mason and I are always sitting with the prettiest girls in the place. I have a picture of Jude from the evening, but she’ll hate it and I’m still in dutch over the shot of her making breakfast in her curlers so, sorry world.

Driving Mr. Nancy

2007-01-18T13:40:00.000-08:00

My bossman is – how should I say: smooth of hand. Flocculent. Soft like a breast. When it snowed the other day, he wouldn’t drive. All of his employees drove in – 150 of us, even some who live in unibomber-style hidey shacks up in the hills. But he "worked from home."

Today, now that the ice is melting, he finally saddled up and made it in.

You're looking Tony Robbins good, man!

2007-01-17T16:10:00.000-08:00

My brother’s got it going on. He walked into a dinky office with a card table about 8 years ago and said, “I’m quitting the radio announcing game. What do you do?” and somehow got hired. Now he’s living poolside – nothing but bitches and barbecue. I asked him, “Keith, what’s your secret?” and he said,

“Well, about 9 yar ago,” (that’s how he talks) “I got word that my father was in the hospital, dying.” (I didn’t even know about this.) “And like most great men, I’d never been close to my father. But I collected my cash, got a bus ticket, and rode on out to see him. He looked so frail there in his hospital bed with his jello and, well, it just got to me. We didn’t speak for several moments. Then my distant, dying, diapered old dad raised a shaky hand and said to me,

‘You see this watch? This was your great-great-grandfather’s. He was Josephine’s lover after Napoleon died, and she gave him the watch. It was on his wrist when he met with kings, bedded peasants, shot a giraffe once. It’s solid gold, handmade by Germans. See the little hologram? It’s worth a fortune ... But I want you to have it for $70.’

That old hump died with my last $38 jammed down the waistband of his pajamas. Mmmmmmmm. So take a lesson!”

I’m trying, Keith! I’m trying.

Powie!

2007-01-16T10:16:00.000-08:00

We’ve got an ice storm this morning. In Portland, the temperature doesn’t get too cold so when we have bad weather it’s usually right around 30 degrees. We don’t get a lot of snow, but we do get ice. My brother Dave in Nebraska would probably look at this and say, “Gadzooks, you can’t drive in that?” He really does say “gadzooks” – he sounds like Rumsfeld but without the guile. But Portland is like a hockey rink with hills today.

In other news, yesterday was haircut day for our cat, Action Jackson. He’s part Persian, part Siamese, part Abominable Tumbleweed. When his fur gets long, you can’t even see his legs and he just glides around like a frosted armadillo. He loves to get his lion cut hairdo. Ever had a crew cut? Know how you can’t stop lightly brushing it with the palm of your hand? That’s our boy.

They should have a show about me

2007-01-14T18:24:00.000-08:00

When we first looked at our house, I was skeptical. There was a giant wood stove insert in the living room fireplace, a bank of inset flourescent lights in the kitchen to accentuate the white z-brick walls with black mortar. Just all kind of crazy stuff. The dining room had an accoustic tile ceiling, like the one my dad put up in the basement when we were kids. Our realtor could see I was dubius, so to overcome the objection she said to Jude, "He just doesn't see it."

So, that was four years ago. No wait, FIVE years ago now. And we're still ripping rooms down to the studs and rebuilding.

Anyway, whatever. I told you that to tell you about these shorts I'm sporting. When I went home to Virginia early in December, my Dad gave me a couple pairs of denim shorts (because Mr. Tai Chi has lost weight). I have to say, I just love these crazy shorts. Look at them! Look at all the pockets! I've got about half the hand tools I own in them. You can't see it, but I've even got a two-foot level in the left leg superpocket, right next to the hammer hoop. Bam!

Is there a signal out here? Call Larry Tate.

2007-01-13T11:34:00.000-08:00

Jude took me over to the coast for my birthday last weekend. She got us this cabin with a fireplace and whatnot. It was relaxing.

The little tourist town was almost empty and it rained and blew and stormed. We went in and out of art galleries and little shops.

Sometimes I can't get interested in the shops Jude likes, but I try to carry a book and just park it near an exit. She'd prefer that I shop with her, but sometimes it just makes my arm hurt. There was a shop like that we went into, and I didn't have my book but they'd put a football game on TV and set out some things to fiddle with.

On Sunday morning, we had breakfast. Then we drove south down the coast, but turned back because we came to some flaggers where a 30-foot section of the right lane had slipped down into the embankment, and it reminded us of that family who got stuck down in southern Oregon, and how we'd pointed out the mistakes that led to the man's death. Here we were, driving in our slippers along the liminal edge twixt life and death.

And I thought of a potential Lexus commercial:

husband and wife, or
woman alone pulls over for hitchhiker (sexy subtext), or
man pulls over for injured elk (sensitive!), or whatever.

Show the supple leather interior, windshield wipers busy, and epic aerial shots of the car riding the coast highway in a crazy rain and windstorm. Call Dylan's people. Overdub:

"Not a word was spoke between us,
There was no risk involved.
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a world where it's always safe and warm.
Come in, she said, I'll give you
Shelter from the storm."

fade to logo. MONEY!