Gabby Johnson: "I wash born here, an I wash raished here, and dad gum it, I am gonna die here, an no sidewindin' bushwackin', hornswagglin' cracker croaker is gonna rouin me bishen cutter."
Olsen Johnson: [after Gabby Johnson's speech] "Now who can argue with that? I think we're all indebt to Gabby Johnson for stating what needed to be said. I am particulary glad that these lovely children are here today to hear that speech. Not only was it authentic frontier gibberish, it expressed the courage little seen in this day and age. "
Quotes from one of my all-time favorite movies, Blazing Saddles.
What was it that turned people away from President Obama? Was it the Tarp, that President Bush and his brethren put into to place, but the President modified so that we got virtually all of it back? Was it the Stimulus that helped prevent a worldwide depression, even though it was weakened by almost half going to ineffective tax cuts that he had to put in in order to mollycoddle Republicans and Blue dogs? Was it the way he cut and run in Afghanistan - wait - I'm sorry - he hasn't done that. Was it bailing out GM, a plan that worked, saving a million plus jobs? Was it that monstrous health care reform, which - how awful - will give millions greater access to the health care market, protect you from being cut off because of job loss or preexisting conditions, extending insurance coverage to your children up to 26 AND cutting at least $138 billion from the deficit?
I believe it wasn't any of these things. I believe it was the Blazing Saddles moment. To wit, please indulge in one more quote from the movie. and be prepared - it will be offensive.
[Gabby Johnson sees the sheriff riding into town] Gabby Johnson: Hey! The sheriff's a nig... [Clock bell chimes] Harriet Johnson: What did he say? Dr. Sam Johnson: He said the sheriff's near. Gabby Johnson: No, gone blame it dang blammit! The sheriff is a nig...
Yes, that's right. The moment that I believe that President Obama descended in the polls, mid to late summer 2009, had nothing to do with public policy. It had to do with independent white voters getting their Blazing Saddles moment, when they suddenly realized that the sheriff riding into town was a ...ni...
They always knew he was African American, but that didn't bother them. After all, one of the most popular figures in the country was Colin Powell. No it was the waking up to what they THOUGHT that meant was what changed things. And that moment was...THE BEER SUMMIT.
At the tail end of a press conference meant to highlight the urgency of passing health care reform, President Obama brought the wrongness in a Cambridge cop losing his cool and arresting a distinguished African American Harvard Professor, Someone President Obama knew and respected. He clearly thought, in what he considered moderate tones, that the policeman over-reacted. And clearly, by all objective measures, he had. But that's not what white America heard. What they heard was....Gabby Johnson.
After that, it didn't matter what President Obama did. A man who had so assiduously avoided racial issues had suddenly, if you'll please forgive, fallen into the Briar patch. And the Beer Summit, instead of patching it up, only highlighted even more to that small but electorally determinative batch of independent white voters.
So, something that I consider a minor incident has now helped determined the fate of the entire world, as the one man who could pull us out of this mess is looked down upon simply for this awakening moment.
Please indulge me in one more quote.
Jim: [consoling Bart] "What did you expect? "Welcome, sonny"? "Make yourself at home"? "Marry my daughter"? You've got to remember that these are just simple farmers. These are people of the land. The common clay of the new West. You know... morons."
Friday, November 19, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Hansel EXPOSED!
Where did the community theatre hamwich you see before you come from? When did the bug bite the shy guy and turn him into a lion onstage? Why does this fever burn within him, the whiffing highs from feeling an audience respond?
It began with Childcraft. I would make the stories I would read from the Children's Encyclopedia of stories and fables come to life. The viney tree in the corner became the centerpiece for Jack in the Beanstalk. The sandbox would be surrounded by a mote. I would search the backyard an a mop handle, galloping to defeat the dragon and rescue the Princess.
When we moved to Bridgeport, Michigan and we got three channels instead of one, my mind exploded with the possibilities. I would perform my own TV schedules around the house. At 4 PM it might be Combat, featuring G.I. Tom's death struggle against the evil Nazi scientist, Baron Von Tom. Then at 4:15, Tarzan and the Jungle Boat Cruise where you dare not let your hand dangle off the sofa lest it get et by a 25 foot crocodile. And on it went, with spies and cowboys and astronauts.
By first grade, it was discovered that I could read very well, and that when I read out loud, it was with emotional inflection and individual characterization. In second grade, this little advantage helped me out in tryouts for our class play. To my amazement, and my parents, I was given the lead, Hansel in Hansel and Gretel.
I don't remember much about the rehearsals, except the costuming was a bear (some kind of weird tights or something), and you had to do a lot of bending to put down bed crumbs. I guess I did okay . I sure don't remember the teacher yelling at me a lot.
The big day came, and the class was filled with parents and spectators. I was so proud. They were all just waiting to see what kind of phenomenal job I could do. My Childcraft plays and TV shows had no audience. Just my Mom interrupting me to do my chores or that it was time for supper. This had to be the biggest moment of my little young life.
The play started . Everyone was into it. I was saying my lines like a pro. Then it came time to put down the breadcrumbs. As I bent down, there was a huge ripping sound. Then thunderous gales of laughter. I got up from bending, I had no idea what was going on. So I bent down again. And felt a breeze. The back of my tights had ripped to shreds. I had been mooning the entire audience.
Some fast stitching was done, the play went on, and I did not bend down again. The play mercifully ended and my petrified mother got me home. School went on. People laughed, but I don't remember being picked on for it. Most kids probably thought it was pretty damn cool.
So after that, why would ever go onstage again? I don't know. I can't fully explain it. Even with everything that went wrong, there was just something about it that made me feel alive. Heck, maybe even the explosion of laughter helped encourage me in some bizarre way. Just making people feel something, sharing emotions, it's something I keep coming back to again and again.
Since then, I have made countless mistakes in the theatre, from breaking furniture to missed exits, from coming out in the wrong costume to forgotten lines. But, somehow, the magic keeps drawing me back. And I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Curtains Up!
It began with Childcraft. I would make the stories I would read from the Children's Encyclopedia of stories and fables come to life. The viney tree in the corner became the centerpiece for Jack in the Beanstalk. The sandbox would be surrounded by a mote. I would search the backyard an a mop handle, galloping to defeat the dragon and rescue the Princess.
When we moved to Bridgeport, Michigan and we got three channels instead of one, my mind exploded with the possibilities. I would perform my own TV schedules around the house. At 4 PM it might be Combat, featuring G.I. Tom's death struggle against the evil Nazi scientist, Baron Von Tom. Then at 4:15, Tarzan and the Jungle Boat Cruise where you dare not let your hand dangle off the sofa lest it get et by a 25 foot crocodile. And on it went, with spies and cowboys and astronauts.
By first grade, it was discovered that I could read very well, and that when I read out loud, it was with emotional inflection and individual characterization. In second grade, this little advantage helped me out in tryouts for our class play. To my amazement, and my parents, I was given the lead, Hansel in Hansel and Gretel.
I don't remember much about the rehearsals, except the costuming was a bear (some kind of weird tights or something), and you had to do a lot of bending to put down bed crumbs. I guess I did okay . I sure don't remember the teacher yelling at me a lot.
The big day came, and the class was filled with parents and spectators. I was so proud. They were all just waiting to see what kind of phenomenal job I could do. My Childcraft plays and TV shows had no audience. Just my Mom interrupting me to do my chores or that it was time for supper. This had to be the biggest moment of my little young life.
The play started . Everyone was into it. I was saying my lines like a pro. Then it came time to put down the breadcrumbs. As I bent down, there was a huge ripping sound. Then thunderous gales of laughter. I got up from bending, I had no idea what was going on. So I bent down again. And felt a breeze. The back of my tights had ripped to shreds. I had been mooning the entire audience.
Some fast stitching was done, the play went on, and I did not bend down again. The play mercifully ended and my petrified mother got me home. School went on. People laughed, but I don't remember being picked on for it. Most kids probably thought it was pretty damn cool.
So after that, why would ever go onstage again? I don't know. I can't fully explain it. Even with everything that went wrong, there was just something about it that made me feel alive. Heck, maybe even the explosion of laughter helped encourage me in some bizarre way. Just making people feel something, sharing emotions, it's something I keep coming back to again and again.
Since then, I have made countless mistakes in the theatre, from breaking furniture to missed exits, from coming out in the wrong costume to forgotten lines. But, somehow, the magic keeps drawing me back. And I wouldn't miss it for the world.
Curtains Up!
Friday, November 5, 2010
Political Prediction Wrapup - The good, the Bad and the Horrible
Well, if you've followed my political prognostications, you may be wondering how I did. Hint: I'm keeping my day job.
First, the Good. I pretty much got spot on the Senate. I predicted a Republican of two to five, and I believe they got six. I also said only one to two of the Tea Party extremists would get through. The only real radical to win was Rand Paul (I guess it pays off to have your staff stomp a woman's head and to kidnap a woman and force her to worship a bong). You could make a case that Marco Rubio (Florida) and Ron Johnson (Wisconsin) are Tea Party candidates. I don't know, I really think they're more Republicans using the Tea Party label, but c'es la vie.
Second, the bad. I predicted the Tea Party, despite losing a great deal, would have their political prowess pumped up beyond their numbers by an over-excited MSM. And that has been exactly the case. CNN has been talking about them as if they were large and in charge, not like they'd lost over 60% of the races they competed for. As for whether or not the TeaParty, once they realized they don't have the clout they thought they would have, will turn to louder, more, shall we say, second amendment remedies, only time will tell.
Third, the horrible. Yes, I messed up the House prediction BIG TIME. My bad. At least my prediction was unique, right. Uniquely wrong, but striving to look at things differently sometimes makes you look like a genius, and sometimes you just look sad and vulnerable. Oh, well. Those few who commented on my prediction (all from facebook - although I'm working hard to make this blog a must-read site - so far it ain't been pretty) though I was indulging in wishful thinking. Well, it's all perspective, I guess, but I don't really see it that way.
My delusion wasn't wishful thinking, my delusion was Mr. Spock. I tried to look at things through cold, rational eyes, and I couldn't find a logical reason why that many districts would turn to the group that caused all the destruction in the first place.
On facebook, a few days before the election, I did revise my projection of losses to up to 33, which is still a puny number compared to the sixty-plus that occurred. I failed to fully realize the impact that a flood of Citizens United freed money would do. A combination of money from rich corporations and wealthy individuals and foreign powers (and yes, also money from TeaParty enthusiasts and social conservatives -but that money doesn't bother me - that's normal politics) overwhelmed the normal political process. And I forgot that most of these districts were gerrymandered by Republicans in 200o to favor Republicans - most of these districts just returned home to their beloved overseer.
I was correct that the districts lost would be overwhelmingly blue dog ConservaDems. Why vote for a fake Republican when you vote for a real one? The Progressive Caucus lost only a a couple of members (I will miss Alan Grayson - however, I must admit his Taliban Dan thing went too far). I also anticipated that the TeaParty would lose a lot.
There were a number of truly horrifying results. Probably the worst to me was Florida electing Rick Scott (involved in the largest Medicare fraud in history) for Governor. I'll discuss more later.
I don't know where Progressives go from here. I'm not really sure what happens to the country. I'm scared to the core. Just the climate change issue alone is making me lose sleep. But, I'll try to go more deeply into those topics in a future post. In the meantime, I would be very happy to see your comments, even from my conservative brethren.
First, the Good. I pretty much got spot on the Senate. I predicted a Republican of two to five, and I believe they got six. I also said only one to two of the Tea Party extremists would get through. The only real radical to win was Rand Paul (I guess it pays off to have your staff stomp a woman's head and to kidnap a woman and force her to worship a bong). You could make a case that Marco Rubio (Florida) and Ron Johnson (Wisconsin) are Tea Party candidates. I don't know, I really think they're more Republicans using the Tea Party label, but c'es la vie.
Second, the bad. I predicted the Tea Party, despite losing a great deal, would have their political prowess pumped up beyond their numbers by an over-excited MSM. And that has been exactly the case. CNN has been talking about them as if they were large and in charge, not like they'd lost over 60% of the races they competed for. As for whether or not the TeaParty, once they realized they don't have the clout they thought they would have, will turn to louder, more, shall we say, second amendment remedies, only time will tell.
Third, the horrible. Yes, I messed up the House prediction BIG TIME. My bad. At least my prediction was unique, right. Uniquely wrong, but striving to look at things differently sometimes makes you look like a genius, and sometimes you just look sad and vulnerable. Oh, well. Those few who commented on my prediction (all from facebook - although I'm working hard to make this blog a must-read site - so far it ain't been pretty) though I was indulging in wishful thinking. Well, it's all perspective, I guess, but I don't really see it that way.
My delusion wasn't wishful thinking, my delusion was Mr. Spock. I tried to look at things through cold, rational eyes, and I couldn't find a logical reason why that many districts would turn to the group that caused all the destruction in the first place.
On facebook, a few days before the election, I did revise my projection of losses to up to 33, which is still a puny number compared to the sixty-plus that occurred. I failed to fully realize the impact that a flood of Citizens United freed money would do. A combination of money from rich corporations and wealthy individuals and foreign powers (and yes, also money from TeaParty enthusiasts and social conservatives -but that money doesn't bother me - that's normal politics) overwhelmed the normal political process. And I forgot that most of these districts were gerrymandered by Republicans in 200o to favor Republicans - most of these districts just returned home to their beloved overseer.
I was correct that the districts lost would be overwhelmingly blue dog ConservaDems. Why vote for a fake Republican when you vote for a real one? The Progressive Caucus lost only a a couple of members (I will miss Alan Grayson - however, I must admit his Taliban Dan thing went too far). I also anticipated that the TeaParty would lose a lot.
There were a number of truly horrifying results. Probably the worst to me was Florida electing Rick Scott (involved in the largest Medicare fraud in history) for Governor. I'll discuss more later.
I don't know where Progressives go from here. I'm not really sure what happens to the country. I'm scared to the core. Just the climate change issue alone is making me lose sleep. But, I'll try to go more deeply into those topics in a future post. In the meantime, I would be very happy to see your comments, even from my conservative brethren.
Friday, October 29, 2010
When Ever I Wake Up
The cupboards were bleeding again. Looking up from the steam of my Randall's Cup-a-Soup, I could see the red drips seeping through the closed cabinet drawer and pooling on the counter top. My heart pounding, I pushed my chair back from the kitchen table and made my way to the cabinet.
Flinging the cabinet open, I saw on top of the white plastic dishes a severed forearm, still bleeding at the elbow. From just outside I heard the shuffling steps and quiet moan. I knew I would soon have a visitor.
The room temperature dropped twenty degrees, and I felt a presence, one that brought tears to my eyes and bile to my throat. And then I saw him, only inches from me, reaching towards me, the ghostly pale figure, the stench of rot almost making me faint.
He reached past me, and grabbed the arm. "Oh," he said, through a loosely hung, only partly flesh clad jaw. "I wondered where I had left that!"
It was then that recognition began to penetrate my hardened soul. It was my brother Andrew. He had died when I was only twelve and he was ten. A failed attempt to cross a bridge with a train behind us. I made it. He didn't. And here he was. But not as a child, but as a fully grown adult. Well, at least the parts that had not rotted off.
"Is that Randall's Cup-A-Soup?," he asked, as he tried to re-attach his arm, using a nearby stapler. "Damn! I even miss that! That's pathetic, ain't that the truth?"
The truth was, this was not the first time I had seen Andrew. Sometimes I was in places where the wall between the real world and the spirit world was considerably weaker than other places. One thing did seem to be almost universally true. Almost everywhere I went, Andrew was dead.
I sat back down, weary, but no longer frightened. "How's it hanging, big bro? You look like crap, half worn out."
"Speak for yourself," I replied, staring at the vacant hole where Andrew's right eye should be. "Yes, after all this time, I still fight going to sleep. But eventually I have to surrender, don't I?"
"Crap. I wish I could sleep. Roaming the earth in a quasi-zombie state ain't all that it's cracked up to be, believe you me."
I sighed. Might as well get to the heart of it. "Well, you see, it's a little different for me. Every time I wake up, everything changes."
"Change?", Andrew asked, as he tried to stuff an intestine back in place. "What do you mean, change?"
"Whenever I wake up, everything is different. One time I have a family and I'm living in Seattle. The nest day that I wake up, I'm a single guy who's a clown in a rodeo. The next day I'm something deadly dull like an accountant."
"Please!," shuddered Andrew, part of an ear falling off. "You're giving me nightmares! So you wake up somebody different each day? Wow! Say, do you ever have a nice set of knockers?"
"No, I'm always me. It's like me, but in an alternate reality. One where choices made by me or others have led to different outcomes. Like you. You died in my original reality when you were ten. If that's true, how are you an adult here? Do ghosts age here?"
"Oh, H to the no! Last year I fell into the path of a commuter train at a subway station."
"Hmmm. You and trains...not a good match!"
"So how long has this been going on?"
"I don't know. Several years, I guess. I lost count at four hundred and ninety eight. It started at my fortieth birthday. I think someone might have put something in my drink."
"Geez, worst Mickey of all time! Well, I guess that's why you were a little surprised at seeing me. You really didn't know this version of me. And if this is your first night here, you may not have anticipated how things work here." Andrew turned and looked out the window almost wistfully. "You haven't seen Sarah yet, have you?"
"Sarah?" She was my wife, the love of my life before the great unmooring took place. I only rarely have seen her since. Often when I do see her, we hadn't married and she doesn't even know me. Sometimes, the heartbreak is more than I can stand. "Sarah's here? And she's connected to me?" Hope filled my spirit.
"Yeah, ya dope. You two were married for twenty years!"
"Were?"
"Oh, cripes! That's right, you don't know. She's...she's like me."
I couldn't take it anymore. I might soon see my dead wife, a rotting corpse. "Andrew, I..I...don't know if I could handle that."
"You might want to start wrapping your brain around it. Because..." And then I heard the steps and moans from outside, creeping closer, ever closer.
Someone was shaking me awake, violently. "Sir! Sir! Wake up! We're at Defcon Four and you're the only one who may be able to talk her out of it!" I rose from the couch I had been apparently sleeping on, blearily confused, looking at the woman standing above me. Where was I this time? Defcon Four? Somebody playing War Games?
She hustled me down the hallway. Historical paintings lined the hall, men wearing suits with firearms in their hands stood in front of a door I was being led to. A person emerged from the door and anxiously came over to me. "Mr. Secretary, please! She already has launched the codes! You only have five minutes to talk her down!"
Oh my God! Have I mentioned that I don't inherit the abilities of whatever alternative me has? There was one time I woke up as pilot and almost crashed a Jumbo Jet! And this was serious, more serious than not knowing how to a do a damn Balance Sheet. "You..you have get to someone else to do this! I...I don't feel like I can do this!"
You have to, Mr. Secretary! You're the only one who can save the world!"
He opened the doors, and there I saw the most frightening thing I have ever seen.
President Palin.
God help us all.
Flinging the cabinet open, I saw on top of the white plastic dishes a severed forearm, still bleeding at the elbow. From just outside I heard the shuffling steps and quiet moan. I knew I would soon have a visitor.
The room temperature dropped twenty degrees, and I felt a presence, one that brought tears to my eyes and bile to my throat. And then I saw him, only inches from me, reaching towards me, the ghostly pale figure, the stench of rot almost making me faint.
He reached past me, and grabbed the arm. "Oh," he said, through a loosely hung, only partly flesh clad jaw. "I wondered where I had left that!"
It was then that recognition began to penetrate my hardened soul. It was my brother Andrew. He had died when I was only twelve and he was ten. A failed attempt to cross a bridge with a train behind us. I made it. He didn't. And here he was. But not as a child, but as a fully grown adult. Well, at least the parts that had not rotted off.
"Is that Randall's Cup-A-Soup?," he asked, as he tried to re-attach his arm, using a nearby stapler. "Damn! I even miss that! That's pathetic, ain't that the truth?"
The truth was, this was not the first time I had seen Andrew. Sometimes I was in places where the wall between the real world and the spirit world was considerably weaker than other places. One thing did seem to be almost universally true. Almost everywhere I went, Andrew was dead.
I sat back down, weary, but no longer frightened. "How's it hanging, big bro? You look like crap, half worn out."
"Speak for yourself," I replied, staring at the vacant hole where Andrew's right eye should be. "Yes, after all this time, I still fight going to sleep. But eventually I have to surrender, don't I?"
"Crap. I wish I could sleep. Roaming the earth in a quasi-zombie state ain't all that it's cracked up to be, believe you me."
I sighed. Might as well get to the heart of it. "Well, you see, it's a little different for me. Every time I wake up, everything changes."
"Change?", Andrew asked, as he tried to stuff an intestine back in place. "What do you mean, change?"
"Whenever I wake up, everything is different. One time I have a family and I'm living in Seattle. The nest day that I wake up, I'm a single guy who's a clown in a rodeo. The next day I'm something deadly dull like an accountant."
"Please!," shuddered Andrew, part of an ear falling off. "You're giving me nightmares! So you wake up somebody different each day? Wow! Say, do you ever have a nice set of knockers?"
"No, I'm always me. It's like me, but in an alternate reality. One where choices made by me or others have led to different outcomes. Like you. You died in my original reality when you were ten. If that's true, how are you an adult here? Do ghosts age here?"
"Oh, H to the no! Last year I fell into the path of a commuter train at a subway station."
"Hmmm. You and trains...not a good match!"
"So how long has this been going on?"
"I don't know. Several years, I guess. I lost count at four hundred and ninety eight. It started at my fortieth birthday. I think someone might have put something in my drink."
"Geez, worst Mickey of all time! Well, I guess that's why you were a little surprised at seeing me. You really didn't know this version of me. And if this is your first night here, you may not have anticipated how things work here." Andrew turned and looked out the window almost wistfully. "You haven't seen Sarah yet, have you?"
"Sarah?" She was my wife, the love of my life before the great unmooring took place. I only rarely have seen her since. Often when I do see her, we hadn't married and she doesn't even know me. Sometimes, the heartbreak is more than I can stand. "Sarah's here? And she's connected to me?" Hope filled my spirit.
"Yeah, ya dope. You two were married for twenty years!"
"Were?"
"Oh, cripes! That's right, you don't know. She's...she's like me."
I couldn't take it anymore. I might soon see my dead wife, a rotting corpse. "Andrew, I..I...don't know if I could handle that."
"You might want to start wrapping your brain around it. Because..." And then I heard the steps and moans from outside, creeping closer, ever closer.
Someone was shaking me awake, violently. "Sir! Sir! Wake up! We're at Defcon Four and you're the only one who may be able to talk her out of it!" I rose from the couch I had been apparently sleeping on, blearily confused, looking at the woman standing above me. Where was I this time? Defcon Four? Somebody playing War Games?
She hustled me down the hallway. Historical paintings lined the hall, men wearing suits with firearms in their hands stood in front of a door I was being led to. A person emerged from the door and anxiously came over to me. "Mr. Secretary, please! She already has launched the codes! You only have five minutes to talk her down!"
Oh my God! Have I mentioned that I don't inherit the abilities of whatever alternative me has? There was one time I woke up as pilot and almost crashed a Jumbo Jet! And this was serious, more serious than not knowing how to a do a damn Balance Sheet. "You..you have get to someone else to do this! I...I don't feel like I can do this!"
You have to, Mr. Secretary! You're the only one who can save the world!"
He opened the doors, and there I saw the most frightening thing I have ever seen.
President Palin.
God help us all.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Witchy Woman!
Christine O'Donnell: I'm not a witch....I'm you!
T. M. Strait: Huh? You're me? How did that happen? When did you possess my soul? And if you can do that, doesn't that make you a witch? Ahhhhhhh.....!
Christine O'Donnell: I'm nothing like they say I am...
T.M. Strait: Well, of course not. Not if you're me now. And if you're me, than who am I? Doses this me I'm you? Ahhhhhhhhhhh......!
Christine: And when I get into the Senate, I'll do what you would do!
T.M.: What I would do? You're serious! Single payer health care, here we come! Greening the economy...infrastructure improvements....education investment...woohooo!
Alison: Hey, hubby! Watchu doing?
T.M.: Can't you see? I'm Christine O'Donnell.
Alison: That's a shame. You're gonna get your ass kicked by Chris Coons.
T.M: Wait a minute. The commercial's over. What happened to my boobs? I'm me again.
Alison: The spell only lasts while the commercial's on. You're you again.
T.M.: She really is a witch!
Alison: No s---, Sherlock!
T. M. Strait: Huh? You're me? How did that happen? When did you possess my soul? And if you can do that, doesn't that make you a witch? Ahhhhhhh.....!
Christine O'Donnell: I'm nothing like they say I am...
T.M. Strait: Well, of course not. Not if you're me now. And if you're me, than who am I? Doses this me I'm you? Ahhhhhhhhhhh......!
Christine: And when I get into the Senate, I'll do what you would do!
T.M.: What I would do? You're serious! Single payer health care, here we come! Greening the economy...infrastructure improvements....education investment...woohooo!
Alison: Hey, hubby! Watchu doing?
T.M.: Can't you see? I'm Christine O'Donnell.
Alison: That's a shame. You're gonna get your ass kicked by Chris Coons.
T.M: Wait a minute. The commercial's over. What happened to my boobs? I'm me again.
Alison: The spell only lasts while the commercial's on. You're you again.
T.M.: She really is a witch!
Alison: No s---, Sherlock!
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
All In A Color for $1.49
I found this neat device online called The Inflation Adjuster. Put in a monetary value, select a year, and it will tell you what that would be in 2009 dollars. So I thought I would try the price of a comic book in 1960. One dime. The answer that came back in 2009 dollars stunned me. Seventy Two big ones! Pennies, that is.
That's right. Comics adjusted for inflation should be about 72 cents. Obviously, they're more than that. About five and a half times more than that (given the $3.99 price the industry has been pushing us towards). Are there reasons for comics to have increased so dramatically above inflation? I'm sure there are, some of them good, some of them not so good. I don't want to get into an argument over that. What's indisputable is the fact that it takes a larger ratio of disposable income to keep up the habit than it did a generation or two ago.
There are many suggestions to assist the long time survival of the comic book industry. Graphic novels and compilations have been fairly successful. They have helped penetrate the bookstore market. Magazine level items like Spider-Man Magazine or Shonen Jump can be found in Wal-Mart and some grocery stores. The Internet is awash with experimentation, some promising, some pretty gruesome.
But, like the melting glaciers are being dwindled by global warming, the mother source is starting to dry up. The comic shop and the weekly/monthly habit is dying. The connection to younger readers is almost non-existent. The last list of sales I saw had zero comics with sales over 100,000.
Maybe there is no hope. Maybe we just let the mothersource die, and pray that what's left is sufficient. Before we all pack it in and consign weekly comic buying to the scrapheap with radio dramas and pulp magazines, I have one last suggestion.
They key is in the habit and the stack. For me, there was nothing like going to a comic store and coming home with a great big stack. In the 70s, ten bucks would buy me as many as twenty new books. Now, ten bucks would get me two, maybe three max. People want to be social, they want to share. all our technology has not eliminated shopping and personal contact. We need them to want to come to the store weekly. We want them to buy a satisfying stack!
So here's my suggestion. One or both of the big two need to start a line of weekly comics, priced no more than $1.99 and maybe even $1.49. They can be smaller than the standard book, 24 pages or even 16. They can contain 10 to 16 pages of story, depending on the cost analysis of the publishers. They should have four to eight weekly titles, with stories that make you want to get the next issue. If they could publish three full-size issues of The Amazing spider-Man every month, I don't see why they couldn't do this in these smaller sizes every week.
DC could have titles that focus on their cities, such as Metropolis starring Superman, or Gotham starring Batman. Marvel's could be organized around teams such as The Avengers and X-Men, or those great titles that they used to have, such as Strange Tales and Tales to Astonish. Some or all should be all ages to help attract younger readers.
On a periodic basis, be it monthly, bi-monthly or even quarterly, these titles could be sold in a magazine or graphic novel as collections. Some readers will want to follow weekly. Other may prefer the periodic collections.
Yes, I know this idea may be met by resistance from those in the know. There may be myriad production problems. I don't know. I'm just a reader who's been in love with comics for a half a century. And I thought I would give my suggestion one shot. Maybe, just maybe, I won't have to take out my comics to my grandchildren and great-grandchildren and say, "Do you see? Do you see what we used to have?"
That's right. Comics adjusted for inflation should be about 72 cents. Obviously, they're more than that. About five and a half times more than that (given the $3.99 price the industry has been pushing us towards). Are there reasons for comics to have increased so dramatically above inflation? I'm sure there are, some of them good, some of them not so good. I don't want to get into an argument over that. What's indisputable is the fact that it takes a larger ratio of disposable income to keep up the habit than it did a generation or two ago.
There are many suggestions to assist the long time survival of the comic book industry. Graphic novels and compilations have been fairly successful. They have helped penetrate the bookstore market. Magazine level items like Spider-Man Magazine or Shonen Jump can be found in Wal-Mart and some grocery stores. The Internet is awash with experimentation, some promising, some pretty gruesome.
But, like the melting glaciers are being dwindled by global warming, the mother source is starting to dry up. The comic shop and the weekly/monthly habit is dying. The connection to younger readers is almost non-existent. The last list of sales I saw had zero comics with sales over 100,000.
Maybe there is no hope. Maybe we just let the mothersource die, and pray that what's left is sufficient. Before we all pack it in and consign weekly comic buying to the scrapheap with radio dramas and pulp magazines, I have one last suggestion.
They key is in the habit and the stack. For me, there was nothing like going to a comic store and coming home with a great big stack. In the 70s, ten bucks would buy me as many as twenty new books. Now, ten bucks would get me two, maybe three max. People want to be social, they want to share. all our technology has not eliminated shopping and personal contact. We need them to want to come to the store weekly. We want them to buy a satisfying stack!
So here's my suggestion. One or both of the big two need to start a line of weekly comics, priced no more than $1.99 and maybe even $1.49. They can be smaller than the standard book, 24 pages or even 16. They can contain 10 to 16 pages of story, depending on the cost analysis of the publishers. They should have four to eight weekly titles, with stories that make you want to get the next issue. If they could publish three full-size issues of The Amazing spider-Man every month, I don't see why they couldn't do this in these smaller sizes every week.
DC could have titles that focus on their cities, such as Metropolis starring Superman, or Gotham starring Batman. Marvel's could be organized around teams such as The Avengers and X-Men, or those great titles that they used to have, such as Strange Tales and Tales to Astonish. Some or all should be all ages to help attract younger readers.
On a periodic basis, be it monthly, bi-monthly or even quarterly, these titles could be sold in a magazine or graphic novel as collections. Some readers will want to follow weekly. Other may prefer the periodic collections.
Yes, I know this idea may be met by resistance from those in the know. There may be myriad production problems. I don't know. I'm just a reader who's been in love with comics for a half a century. And I thought I would give my suggestion one shot. Maybe, just maybe, I won't have to take out my comics to my grandchildren and great-grandchildren and say, "Do you see? Do you see what we used to have?"
Friday, October 15, 2010
Political Prediction Update and Reflections
No, I am not going back on my predictions of a month ago. I am generally satisfied with my overall conclusions, which are as follows: 18 to 23 seat Republican gain in the House, 2 to 5 seat Republican gain in the Senate, the reactionary elements of the Tea Party becoming more bitter and desperate. I did want to briefly consider some of the major trends in the last month.
I am very worried about the large amounts of corporate, foreign and wealthy individual dollars that are being dropped into our election process. This may influence some races that could have fallen to the Democratic candidate. On the other hand, the blatancy of this money has become so apparent that it may have a backlash effect, especially if Democratic politicians are strong enough to keep pointing it out. Citizens Untied has proven to be the most destructive Supreme Court ruling since Bush v. Gore, and definitely in the top five worst rulings of all time. If not changed very quickly, this will be the last shovel full of dirt burying the corpse of democracy.
I have recently heard that there are 70 Tea Party candidates for the House, of which roughly half are leading or contending. Of course what the MSM is not saying is at least half are NOT contending. So let's say 20 to 25 win. What does that mean? I think they will try to steer the Republican house in a more reactionary direction, if that's even possible. It will make compromise with the Democrats even more difficult. They will be a frustrating nuisance, and only have the power that they can gender through fear and intimidation. Tragically, that may be more power than their numbers warrant.
The false equivalency that CNN keeps trying to bring to the table drives me crazy. I don't mind them trying to be the "more journalistic" network in the middle. But journalism means calling it like it is. If all the crazy candidates are one side, it's best just to call it that than to try to gin up something on the other side. The Democratic equivalent of Newt Gingrich is not Lanny Davis.
The house being allowed to burn in Tennessee is a terrifying glimpse into a Tea Party future. If I were a Democratic candidate, I would play this up, over and over. The rescue in Chile is an example of what government can do IF we let it. They took over from day one, they did it methodical and careful, they brought the best resources from around the world, and we all cried for joy. Contrast that with the Gulf Oil disaster. The media, the government. BP - all sniping at each other. Meanwhile, don't kid yourself. just because our A.D.D. press is not covering it, doesn't mean you won't be seeing negative effects in the gulf for generations to come. And guess what? We're back to drill, baby, drill again!
Sorry for the somewhat random nature, but these are my thoughts with the election less than three weeks way. Please feel free to share your thoughts. I welcome the dialogue!
I am very worried about the large amounts of corporate, foreign and wealthy individual dollars that are being dropped into our election process. This may influence some races that could have fallen to the Democratic candidate. On the other hand, the blatancy of this money has become so apparent that it may have a backlash effect, especially if Democratic politicians are strong enough to keep pointing it out. Citizens Untied has proven to be the most destructive Supreme Court ruling since Bush v. Gore, and definitely in the top five worst rulings of all time. If not changed very quickly, this will be the last shovel full of dirt burying the corpse of democracy.
I have recently heard that there are 70 Tea Party candidates for the House, of which roughly half are leading or contending. Of course what the MSM is not saying is at least half are NOT contending. So let's say 20 to 25 win. What does that mean? I think they will try to steer the Republican house in a more reactionary direction, if that's even possible. It will make compromise with the Democrats even more difficult. They will be a frustrating nuisance, and only have the power that they can gender through fear and intimidation. Tragically, that may be more power than their numbers warrant.
The false equivalency that CNN keeps trying to bring to the table drives me crazy. I don't mind them trying to be the "more journalistic" network in the middle. But journalism means calling it like it is. If all the crazy candidates are one side, it's best just to call it that than to try to gin up something on the other side. The Democratic equivalent of Newt Gingrich is not Lanny Davis.
The house being allowed to burn in Tennessee is a terrifying glimpse into a Tea Party future. If I were a Democratic candidate, I would play this up, over and over. The rescue in Chile is an example of what government can do IF we let it. They took over from day one, they did it methodical and careful, they brought the best resources from around the world, and we all cried for joy. Contrast that with the Gulf Oil disaster. The media, the government. BP - all sniping at each other. Meanwhile, don't kid yourself. just because our A.D.D. press is not covering it, doesn't mean you won't be seeing negative effects in the gulf for generations to come. And guess what? We're back to drill, baby, drill again!
Sorry for the somewhat random nature, but these are my thoughts with the election less than three weeks way. Please feel free to share your thoughts. I welcome the dialogue!
Friday, October 1, 2010
Old Pat T and the Great Bathroom War
They had to take her away. The ambulance came and took her away, and we never saw her again. Old Pat T had taught her last class.
We moved from small agricultural Charlotte, Michigan to the blue collar suburb of Bridgeport, Michigan during the summer before I started First grade. If we had stayed in Charlotte, I would have had to repeat Kindergarten. I was a rebellious little kid who didn’t feel like it was important to share with the teacher what you were learning. I defied rules at all turns, was obnoxious, and missed most of the last weeks of school, lying at home, almost dying with severe hard measles.
First grade changed all that. Set in an old school building that only had the first grade in it, there were four classrooms on the main floor and one, one solitary classroom that was set below. Below in the basement. And that was where I was, not alone, but with twenty some other terrified kids. Alone in the basement. Alone in the basement with…Old Pat T.
Old Pat T, whose real name is completely lost to me, was our teacher. She was a Bridgeport institution, having taught First grade for decades – for all we knew, centuries. We were alone down there with her. There were no aides or assistants in those days. Any stuff or nonsense any of us had hanging over from Kindergarten was knocked right out of us.
We had a big walk-in closet down there, where we hung our coats and mittens and all those things you needed to survive in chilly Michigan. And it was used for one other thing. Time out. Oh, not the cute little sit in the corner time out used today. No, this was something else. If you were bad, she would put you in there. With the door shut. And the lights off. I must not have always been good. Because I remember that closet. I remember it all too well.
I remember poor Jimmy Schauman coming in with his pants wet, and Old Pat T humiliating him in front of the whole class for having wet his pants. He tried to tearfully deny it, and wound up in the closet for his troubles.
It was a troubling time for all of us. Our only relief was when we got into the light of day at recess. The only other time out of our dungeon is when we went as a group to the bathrooms upstairs. A fairly routine task. That is, until the Great Bathroom War.
There were only one set of bathrooms in the building. These were on the main floor with the other four classrooms. Every classroom was supposed to have a set time to go, as not to overwhelm the facilities. This was particularly true for us in the basement, and this strict schedule may have helped explain why we boys with wild, untamed bladders might occasionally have accidents. Old Pat T was not going to vary her schedule for anybody.
One fine school day, Old Pat T organized us for our trek upstairs to the bathrooms. But when we got up there, one of the other teachers was starting to line up her kids ahead of us. Well, Old Pat T was livid. This was not right. This was her classroom’s time, not this young upstart’s.
They engaged in verbal battle. We watched, our mouths dropping in amazement. We had never seen two adult teachers going at it like that, saying words to each other that many of us didn’t recognize. The confrontation became physical! Old Pat T slapped the upstart, and the upstart punched Old Pat T in the gut!
Meanwhile, as the fight was going on, we students from both classrooms, we of the full bladder club, came in and used the bathrooms together, operating in unison, without conflict or strife. When we came out, the ambulance was there and Old Pat T was being taken away.
I don’t remember what happened to old Pat T, other than that she never came back. I don’t know what happened to the young upstart who slugged her. I did learn that sometimes, if we don’t let ourselves get confined by authority and fear, we can all just go to the bathroom together.
The remainder of our year was more peaceful, even if we were in the basement. Yes, it helped straighten out a bit of my wildness. But it also left me a little bit terrified of authority figures, an attitude that has continued to this day. It has also left me with the need, wherever I’m working, whatever I’m doing, to make sure that I have quick, easy, and unfettered access to a bathroom.
We moved from small agricultural Charlotte, Michigan to the blue collar suburb of Bridgeport, Michigan during the summer before I started First grade. If we had stayed in Charlotte, I would have had to repeat Kindergarten. I was a rebellious little kid who didn’t feel like it was important to share with the teacher what you were learning. I defied rules at all turns, was obnoxious, and missed most of the last weeks of school, lying at home, almost dying with severe hard measles.
First grade changed all that. Set in an old school building that only had the first grade in it, there were four classrooms on the main floor and one, one solitary classroom that was set below. Below in the basement. And that was where I was, not alone, but with twenty some other terrified kids. Alone in the basement. Alone in the basement with…Old Pat T.
Old Pat T, whose real name is completely lost to me, was our teacher. She was a Bridgeport institution, having taught First grade for decades – for all we knew, centuries. We were alone down there with her. There were no aides or assistants in those days. Any stuff or nonsense any of us had hanging over from Kindergarten was knocked right out of us.
We had a big walk-in closet down there, where we hung our coats and mittens and all those things you needed to survive in chilly Michigan. And it was used for one other thing. Time out. Oh, not the cute little sit in the corner time out used today. No, this was something else. If you were bad, she would put you in there. With the door shut. And the lights off. I must not have always been good. Because I remember that closet. I remember it all too well.
I remember poor Jimmy Schauman coming in with his pants wet, and Old Pat T humiliating him in front of the whole class for having wet his pants. He tried to tearfully deny it, and wound up in the closet for his troubles.
It was a troubling time for all of us. Our only relief was when we got into the light of day at recess. The only other time out of our dungeon is when we went as a group to the bathrooms upstairs. A fairly routine task. That is, until the Great Bathroom War.
There were only one set of bathrooms in the building. These were on the main floor with the other four classrooms. Every classroom was supposed to have a set time to go, as not to overwhelm the facilities. This was particularly true for us in the basement, and this strict schedule may have helped explain why we boys with wild, untamed bladders might occasionally have accidents. Old Pat T was not going to vary her schedule for anybody.
One fine school day, Old Pat T organized us for our trek upstairs to the bathrooms. But when we got up there, one of the other teachers was starting to line up her kids ahead of us. Well, Old Pat T was livid. This was not right. This was her classroom’s time, not this young upstart’s.
They engaged in verbal battle. We watched, our mouths dropping in amazement. We had never seen two adult teachers going at it like that, saying words to each other that many of us didn’t recognize. The confrontation became physical! Old Pat T slapped the upstart, and the upstart punched Old Pat T in the gut!
Meanwhile, as the fight was going on, we students from both classrooms, we of the full bladder club, came in and used the bathrooms together, operating in unison, without conflict or strife. When we came out, the ambulance was there and Old Pat T was being taken away.
I don’t remember what happened to old Pat T, other than that she never came back. I don’t know what happened to the young upstart who slugged her. I did learn that sometimes, if we don’t let ourselves get confined by authority and fear, we can all just go to the bathroom together.
The remainder of our year was more peaceful, even if we were in the basement. Yes, it helped straighten out a bit of my wildness. But it also left me a little bit terrified of authority figures, an attitude that has continued to this day. It has also left me with the need, wherever I’m working, whatever I’m doing, to make sure that I have quick, easy, and unfettered access to a bathroom.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Political Predictions You'll Hear Nowhere Else
And based on my blog's incredible level of visits, followers and comments, you probably won't hear about them here either. But if you've read this far you might as well slog through the rest of it.
The Republicans will gain seats in the house of Representatives! Wow, that's bold! But not in numbers sufficient enough to gain control. I predict that they will gain 18 to 23 seats. Enough to become more obnoxious, but not enough to wrest control from the Democrats and Speaker Pelosi. And since the House is a majority-rule body, we'll just have to listen to Boehner's orange hued, powerless temper tantrums. But won't that make it harder for Pelosi to win votes? NO! Because the losses the Democrats experience will be almost exclusively Blue Dog Democrats who vote most of the time like Republicans anyways. Progressive majority holds in the house, at almost it's current level of strength.
The Republicans will gain seats in the Senate! My prediction is that they will gain two to four seats. The Democrats remain in theoretical control of the Senate, but there, because of filibuster and other arcane rules, the minority will still frustrate the will of the people. At least one or two of the lunatic fringe Tea Party (whatever the hell that really is) candidates will win. That means if progressives really want something, they're going to have to go balls to the wall to fight for it. And I mean US, those in the voting populace, not the Senators. Like FDR said, (paraphrasing), "You want me to do something? Make me!"
You won't here this prediction anywhere else, at least until we get very close to the election. All the mainstream media right now is nattering about the coming Republican Tsunami. I think they're wrong. I think things will still be muddied after the election. It will clear up two things. First, it is possible to go too far nutball right in this country - the fight for the soul of the republican Party will continue into 2012. Second, the Blue Dogs are going down much harder than Democrats in general. Think about it. If you're a conservative (regular style -not extra crunchy lunatic teabag style) and you have a choice between a Democrat who says he's a conservative or a Republican who IS a conservative, who are you gonna pick?
That's the good news. The bad news is that the extremist right is not going away, and will not take defeat well. I fear the most prophetic thing said this election cycle may be from R-Teanut Senate candidate - Nevada, who said that if they don't win the elections they may have to look to second amendment solutions. You see, most of us think the election is about management style, or the size and/or priorities of government. For these people, it's about the very soul of the nation, the last stand against the country being taken over by the "other". I fear that they are not going to go quietly into that good night. There is nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal backed into a corner with nothing left to lose.
God help us all.
The Republicans will gain seats in the house of Representatives! Wow, that's bold! But not in numbers sufficient enough to gain control. I predict that they will gain 18 to 23 seats. Enough to become more obnoxious, but not enough to wrest control from the Democrats and Speaker Pelosi. And since the House is a majority-rule body, we'll just have to listen to Boehner's orange hued, powerless temper tantrums. But won't that make it harder for Pelosi to win votes? NO! Because the losses the Democrats experience will be almost exclusively Blue Dog Democrats who vote most of the time like Republicans anyways. Progressive majority holds in the house, at almost it's current level of strength.
The Republicans will gain seats in the Senate! My prediction is that they will gain two to four seats. The Democrats remain in theoretical control of the Senate, but there, because of filibuster and other arcane rules, the minority will still frustrate the will of the people. At least one or two of the lunatic fringe Tea Party (whatever the hell that really is) candidates will win. That means if progressives really want something, they're going to have to go balls to the wall to fight for it. And I mean US, those in the voting populace, not the Senators. Like FDR said, (paraphrasing), "You want me to do something? Make me!"
You won't here this prediction anywhere else, at least until we get very close to the election. All the mainstream media right now is nattering about the coming Republican Tsunami. I think they're wrong. I think things will still be muddied after the election. It will clear up two things. First, it is possible to go too far nutball right in this country - the fight for the soul of the republican Party will continue into 2012. Second, the Blue Dogs are going down much harder than Democrats in general. Think about it. If you're a conservative (regular style -not extra crunchy lunatic teabag style) and you have a choice between a Democrat who says he's a conservative or a Republican who IS a conservative, who are you gonna pick?
That's the good news. The bad news is that the extremist right is not going away, and will not take defeat well. I fear the most prophetic thing said this election cycle may be from R-Teanut Senate candidate - Nevada, who said that if they don't win the elections they may have to look to second amendment solutions. You see, most of us think the election is about management style, or the size and/or priorities of government. For these people, it's about the very soul of the nation, the last stand against the country being taken over by the "other". I fear that they are not going to go quietly into that good night. There is nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal backed into a corner with nothing left to lose.
God help us all.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
New Coast 2
It’s a fine day in da Big Apple! The Mighty Dyke is holding back, despite the windy day and threatening sky. What can I say? A few floods and all the chickens vamoose. Not me. I’m sticking it out, come hell or high water! Ha! Dat’s funny!
I’m Ernie, by the by. Birth name’s Ernesto, but I like the feel of Ernie better. Makes me feel more American, but I got no problem with Ernesto either, if that’s what youse wants to use. I love this country, and I love Puerto Rico too. Really should be a state, at least what’s left of it, but that’s a whole different scenario, knowhutimean?
So here I am pecking away at this computer, communicatin’ with who the hell knows, for who the frak knows why. I think I’m just trying to reach out, let everybody know not to give up on the NYC yet. Also curious to know how things are going elsewhere. So glad Alfredo let me know about this. Internet sucks on this rock, don’t quite know how this is function-atin’, just grateful that it is.
Yeah, I know, at one time there were millions o’ people in Manhattan. I just want to make sure you knew that even though everyone thinks it’s shut down, there are still people here. Maybe not millions, but there are hundreds of thousands. Okay, I don’t precisely know, but I’m guessing anywheres from 300K to a half a million. But this is, whaddayacallit, an estimate. I don’t think anybody’s doing a census anymore.
First off, I need to emphasize, no matter what else you’ve heard, the Bloomberg Dyke is holding. Yeah, I know, there was the flood in ‘37 during Hurricane Jane, and several incidents in recent times, but I swear to god, would I be living here if I really thought the whole thing could come down? Mankind’s biggest engineering project, gotta give it some respect, knowhutimean?
My job? I’m an exterminator. Great work in a place where the rats outnumber the people about a thousand to one. I’m a freelance contractor, do most of my work for the city, about a quarter for private citizens. Mostly the few richies still here, but I do other work that if I was a lawyer you’d call pro bono. Really, all this makes me a very popular guy. Why would I want to leave?
I live on the 12th floor of a ritzy Park Avenue apartment building. I’ve been told that thirty or forty years ago this apartment rented for like 5,000 a month. I mean, like, what the hell? Who’s got that kind of scratch? Me, I’m also like a squatter. Pay about 250 a month. I got maybe two dozen neighbors in the whole building. Most of the apartments are just turning into crap. So I guess you can see why an exterminator can be so popular, eh?
Can’t really see the water anymore. Y’know, because of the tall dyke walls. We got a few observation decks you can climb if you really got the jones to see the water. Hell, Liberty and Ellis Island ain’t even there anymores. You have to look towards the Jersey shore to see the Statute of Liberty (sad it was when they had to move that).
My family don’t live here anymore. Have to go all the way to frakkin’ Scranton to see Mama, Papa, brothers, sisters. I’m not married now, although I was once. Sweet little Ramona, ran off with some prick musician -aw, I don’t really want to talk about it. We didn’t have no kids. Someday, I think, it would be nice to have a family of my own.I’m a really nice dude, pretty well off, but I’m also kinda short and dumpy. Whatkinido?
I think I’ll check off now. Thanks, Alfredo. It’s good for venting if nothing else. I look forward to hearing from youse people who don’t live surrounded by dykes. Hasta luego!
I’m Ernie, by the by. Birth name’s Ernesto, but I like the feel of Ernie better. Makes me feel more American, but I got no problem with Ernesto either, if that’s what youse wants to use. I love this country, and I love Puerto Rico too. Really should be a state, at least what’s left of it, but that’s a whole different scenario, knowhutimean?
So here I am pecking away at this computer, communicatin’ with who the hell knows, for who the frak knows why. I think I’m just trying to reach out, let everybody know not to give up on the NYC yet. Also curious to know how things are going elsewhere. So glad Alfredo let me know about this. Internet sucks on this rock, don’t quite know how this is function-atin’, just grateful that it is.
Yeah, I know, at one time there were millions o’ people in Manhattan. I just want to make sure you knew that even though everyone thinks it’s shut down, there are still people here. Maybe not millions, but there are hundreds of thousands. Okay, I don’t precisely know, but I’m guessing anywheres from 300K to a half a million. But this is, whaddayacallit, an estimate. I don’t think anybody’s doing a census anymore.
First off, I need to emphasize, no matter what else you’ve heard, the Bloomberg Dyke is holding. Yeah, I know, there was the flood in ‘37 during Hurricane Jane, and several incidents in recent times, but I swear to god, would I be living here if I really thought the whole thing could come down? Mankind’s biggest engineering project, gotta give it some respect, knowhutimean?
My job? I’m an exterminator. Great work in a place where the rats outnumber the people about a thousand to one. I’m a freelance contractor, do most of my work for the city, about a quarter for private citizens. Mostly the few richies still here, but I do other work that if I was a lawyer you’d call pro bono. Really, all this makes me a very popular guy. Why would I want to leave?
I live on the 12th floor of a ritzy Park Avenue apartment building. I’ve been told that thirty or forty years ago this apartment rented for like 5,000 a month. I mean, like, what the hell? Who’s got that kind of scratch? Me, I’m also like a squatter. Pay about 250 a month. I got maybe two dozen neighbors in the whole building. Most of the apartments are just turning into crap. So I guess you can see why an exterminator can be so popular, eh?
Can’t really see the water anymore. Y’know, because of the tall dyke walls. We got a few observation decks you can climb if you really got the jones to see the water. Hell, Liberty and Ellis Island ain’t even there anymores. You have to look towards the Jersey shore to see the Statute of Liberty (sad it was when they had to move that).
My family don’t live here anymore. Have to go all the way to frakkin’ Scranton to see Mama, Papa, brothers, sisters. I’m not married now, although I was once. Sweet little Ramona, ran off with some prick musician -aw, I don’t really want to talk about it. We didn’t have no kids. Someday, I think, it would be nice to have a family of my own.I’m a really nice dude, pretty well off, but I’m also kinda short and dumpy. Whatkinido?
I think I’ll check off now. Thanks, Alfredo. It’s good for venting if nothing else. I look forward to hearing from youse people who don’t live surrounded by dykes. Hasta luego!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Echoes of '59
The closest I ever came to the supernatural was that summer of ’59 in Eugene, Oregon. My dad was a teacher, and he would fill his summer break each year by accepting a National Science Foundation Scholarship. One year it was Stanford University in Palo Alto, California. Another it was Ball State in Muncie, Indiana. That summer it was the University of Oregon.
That summer was weird and wonderful, filled with unexplained events that still mystify me. I was only four, my sister Carol was three, and it was our first real experience away from home, so maybe it was just the exotic newness of the locale. My parents had rented the top floor of a big Victorian house, set spookily on top of a hill (probably not that big of a hill, but impressive enough to a family from Michigan’s flatlands). Male college students occupied the first and second floors.
I remember the piercing introductory music of Perry Mason, my mother’s favorite show. Carol and I would hear it from our beds and shiver. I remember my first pet, a turtle that I took out onto the roof in the mistaken belief that he needed more sun. He required much less attention after that. I remember getting mad at Carol and shoving her down the stairs. In a normal world, she should have been maimed or killed, with me suffering horrendous guilt the rest of my natural born days. Instead she tumbled down like a gymnast doing an Olympic routine, popped up at the end of the stairs, and came flying back up ready to kick some brother butt. But what I remember most was the car we brought back to life.
We were playing in the front driveway when we got bored. So my sister conceived of a tag game where we would chase each other like idiots unless we could touch the safe spot first, which she decided in her infinite toddler wisdom should be a yellow Ford Mustang belonging to one of the college guys. Remembering Perry, the fried turtle, and Elastic Girl tumbling down the stairs, I said, “Are you crazy? That’s not our car! What if we break it or something?”
Carol laughed. “Stupy boy!” which, in her lingo, said it all. And then she proceeded to show me that it was okee-dokie to touch the car. She raced up to it and gave it a little whack on its front hood. I was paralyzed by her effrontery, but we were both horror struck by what happened next. The car started to back out the driveway, then turn into the street, and started to drive away! The college guy whose car it was came bursting out of the house, cursing us as little brats, and went running after his suddenly untamed Mustang.
Selective childhood memories repress what happened after that. Maybe we were spanked, maybe the college guy saddled his car before it wrecked, maybe his car made it to the fields where Mustangs roam free. I don’t know. It wasn’t until years later that it occurred to me that gravity and parking brakes could have played a role. I still prefer to think of it as I did in my youth, as one of those rare times when real magic echoed through our souls.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Now the Islamic Community Center is a Symbol
The political silly season is upon us!
Thanks, Republicans, for restoring what is an August tradition...insanely stupid tangents that play into the cultural fear spots.
We got yer anchor babies right chere! Our strict constitutional constructionists have discovered the need to advocate the repeal of the 14th amendment.
We got yer Ground Zero Mosques right cheer! Forget that it's an Islamic Community Center two blocks from Ground Zero, or that it's a neighborhood with a large Muslim population. It's an affront to all Americans everywhere because...okay, that's where I lose it. WE'RE NOT AT WAR WITH THE MUSLIM RELIGION. Let me repeat that. WE'RE NOT AT WAR WITH THE MUSLIM RELIGION.
To equate this center with putting up a Nazi sign near the Holocaust museum is not just a bad analogy. It shows a wanton misunderstanding of what happened on 9/11. You're equating the second largest religious faith on the planet with Hitler-centric fascism of the Nazis. Is that really what you want to say. A more apt comparison would be if they wanted to put a monument honoring the political movement Al Quada on the site of Ground Zero. Al Quada is a political movement that uses religion to justify itself. This should not be an unfamiliar scenario to those who from the land where Timothy McVeigh and Eric Rudolph warped the Christian faith to fit their needs.
The very core of what being an American is about is now tied into this debate. De we stand for freedom of religion or not? Do we consider all Muslims terrorists or not? Is the site of Ground Zero going to stand for the unity of all peoples of all faiths against the forces of hate and fundamentalism? "Or do we descend into the madness of the silly season?
We have no choice now. We must make the statement of support for American values. We must support the Islamic Center or risk exposure of the dark underbelly of the American culture. The instincts of tolerance and freedom must triumph over the cold hatred bred from intolerance and fear of the OTHER.
Thanks, Republicans, for restoring what is an August tradition...insanely stupid tangents that play into the cultural fear spots.
We got yer anchor babies right chere! Our strict constitutional constructionists have discovered the need to advocate the repeal of the 14th amendment.
We got yer Ground Zero Mosques right cheer! Forget that it's an Islamic Community Center two blocks from Ground Zero, or that it's a neighborhood with a large Muslim population. It's an affront to all Americans everywhere because...okay, that's where I lose it. WE'RE NOT AT WAR WITH THE MUSLIM RELIGION. Let me repeat that. WE'RE NOT AT WAR WITH THE MUSLIM RELIGION.
To equate this center with putting up a Nazi sign near the Holocaust museum is not just a bad analogy. It shows a wanton misunderstanding of what happened on 9/11. You're equating the second largest religious faith on the planet with Hitler-centric fascism of the Nazis. Is that really what you want to say. A more apt comparison would be if they wanted to put a monument honoring the political movement Al Quada on the site of Ground Zero. Al Quada is a political movement that uses religion to justify itself. This should not be an unfamiliar scenario to those who from the land where Timothy McVeigh and Eric Rudolph warped the Christian faith to fit their needs.
The very core of what being an American is about is now tied into this debate. De we stand for freedom of religion or not? Do we consider all Muslims terrorists or not? Is the site of Ground Zero going to stand for the unity of all peoples of all faiths against the forces of hate and fundamentalism? "Or do we descend into the madness of the silly season?
We have no choice now. We must make the statement of support for American values. We must support the Islamic Center or risk exposure of the dark underbelly of the American culture. The instincts of tolerance and freedom must triumph over the cold hatred bred from intolerance and fear of the OTHER.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
My Current Favorite Cartoon Books
This is a comic from my collection, one I recently sold. If you sell on eBay, you have to be prepared to only get about 10 to 20% of their listed value. And be prepared for a myriad of opinions about condition. It would almost be worthwhile to give the ones I don't want to keep to a worthy cause.
At 55, I'm still an avid collector and reader. These are some of my current favorites -
I really like Terry Moore's Echo, about the woman with living metallic armor attached to her. It is a well-crafted gem from the creator of Strangers In Paradise. Alison loves it, too.
We also read Jeff Smith's RASL. I love it's alternate universe travel and it's riff off Tesla. It is published very infrequently and there is a long wait between issues. Jeff Smith and his wife Vijaya are one of the few celebrities Alison have ever met. We helped assist them when they were honored at Pogo Fest, and ate with them, partied with them and other artists, and showed them around the Okefenokee Swamp Park.
I Like two Stephen King mini-series, The Dark Tower and The Stand. I think The Stand is one of the best comics out right now, and certainly one of the best adaptions I've ever seen.
I like the main Batman title, but not much else. I also like Jonah Hex, although the quality varies from issue to issue. And I'm a huge Legion of super-Heroes fan, going back to some of the earliest comics I bought.
In Marvel, I'm primarily into the old mainstays, The Amazing Spider-Man and The Fantastic Four. I really don't like the retro-elimination of Peter and Mary Jane's marriage, but I'm enjoying the thrice-monthly publication, and I have to admit the stories are well written with a great use of supporting cast. I also get The Uncanny X-Men, and am primarily a Shadowcat fan - a smart Jewish girl who's not drawn like an uber-busted bombshell - gotta love it!
I love The Justice Society of America. It is what I call the Thread, with elements of continuity reaching back to the Golden Age. And with Bill Willingham as the writer - hot! hot! hot!
I mostly collect Vertigo comics as graphic novels, although I like to regularly get Fables and Jack of Fables...that darn Willingham again!
But first and foremost I am a Superman fan...Superman, Action comics, Adventure comics, Supergirl, I can't get enough of the never ending battle! I love his sense of decency and sticking up for everyone who needs it. And I'm thrilled with the new storyline of J. Michael Straycynzki called Grounded, where Superman meets and deals with regular, everyday people.
And that's what I'm reading at present. In the future, I hope to discuss the terrible price increases and circulation problems there are plaguing the comics industry.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Inexplicable Musings
Another season of So You Think You Can Dance is wrapping up, and for whatever reason, I have failed to keep up my blog. I really desire to write, but I have so little discipline. I have to make it more of The One Thing.
My thoughts remained scattered over many things. I noticed from the movie Julie & Julia that the blogs that catch have some gimmick that requires repeated viewing. But I don't really want to go through a recipe book. I thought maybe chronologically reading a Superman comic book each day for a year. Somehow I don't think any one would want to make a movie of that.
I remain involved in community theatre. I finished Alice Though the Looking Glass with my son Benjamin. I've started on Barefoot In The Park, playing a part I did in 10th grade. So I may have some pictures and topics on this.
It bothers some people but I'm very interested in politics. I'm fairly progressive in a very, very unprogressive area. I love to vent, but I also don't mind dialogue. I seriously think I'm on the verge of re-conceptualizing our tax system, but I would love feedback while I'm doing it. And, of course, my chief issue is single payer health care. I also am very worried that global warming is being taken less seriously at a time when we're rapidly passing the time we can do anything about it.
i love reading, and would like to comment more on what I'm reading. Right now, I am reading Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Vanity Fair by William Thackeray, The Future of Faith by Harvey Cox, and a Worlds of If Science Fiction magazine from 1952 featuring Let My People Go by Walter Miller, Jr. I also am a lifelong comic book fan and would love to discuss any of that.
I am a fan of storytelling, and yes, that includes television and movies. I loved Lost, Buffy, The Adventures of Briscoe County, Jr and Twin Peaks. Movies are great, especially Mel Brooks movies and anything with imagination and fire. The most recent movie I loved was Inception.
I consider myself part of the Christian left, enjoy the Episcopalian church, and am open to discuss faith in an open and tolerant manner.
I have a great family and love to talk about that, and share pictures.
Finally, I hope to add more chapters to my New Coast story.
I hope I'm back. I hope I carve out time and take advantage of opportunities, and I hope I'm worthy of reading and considering.
Your friend in Blog-O-Land,
T.M. Strait
My thoughts remained scattered over many things. I noticed from the movie Julie & Julia that the blogs that catch have some gimmick that requires repeated viewing. But I don't really want to go through a recipe book. I thought maybe chronologically reading a Superman comic book each day for a year. Somehow I don't think any one would want to make a movie of that.
I remain involved in community theatre. I finished Alice Though the Looking Glass with my son Benjamin. I've started on Barefoot In The Park, playing a part I did in 10th grade. So I may have some pictures and topics on this.
It bothers some people but I'm very interested in politics. I'm fairly progressive in a very, very unprogressive area. I love to vent, but I also don't mind dialogue. I seriously think I'm on the verge of re-conceptualizing our tax system, but I would love feedback while I'm doing it. And, of course, my chief issue is single payer health care. I also am very worried that global warming is being taken less seriously at a time when we're rapidly passing the time we can do anything about it.
i love reading, and would like to comment more on what I'm reading. Right now, I am reading Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Vanity Fair by William Thackeray, The Future of Faith by Harvey Cox, and a Worlds of If Science Fiction magazine from 1952 featuring Let My People Go by Walter Miller, Jr. I also am a lifelong comic book fan and would love to discuss any of that.
I am a fan of storytelling, and yes, that includes television and movies. I loved Lost, Buffy, The Adventures of Briscoe County, Jr and Twin Peaks. Movies are great, especially Mel Brooks movies and anything with imagination and fire. The most recent movie I loved was Inception.
I consider myself part of the Christian left, enjoy the Episcopalian church, and am open to discuss faith in an open and tolerant manner.
I have a great family and love to talk about that, and share pictures.
Finally, I hope to add more chapters to my New Coast story.
I hope I'm back. I hope I carve out time and take advantage of opportunities, and I hope I'm worthy of reading and considering.
Your friend in Blog-O-Land,
T.M. Strait
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Dog Post!
These are pictures of our dogs. They are both Dachshund mixes. The bigger, mostly black one is Cocoa Bear. The cinnnamon one is Ellie Mae. They are both rescue dogs, in the two year old range. They are the sweetest dogs you ever met, and very obedient.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
American Pride
I'm proud to be an American, because in declaring our independence from England, we strived to make a society that valued life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. A society that would break free from the constraints of nobility and class structure and plant the seeds of opportunity for all Americans.
I'm proud to be an American because of our Constitution, not because it advocates any particular political system (democracy, republic) nor economic system (capitalism, communism), but because of the sheer genius of it's checks and balances. Investing power in multiple sources has probably done more to keep this nation free and progressing forward than anything else we've done!
I'm proud to be an American because of the Bill of Rights, the greatest addendum ever made. Not only did it initially codify basic civil liberties, it has grown and expanded as our sense of liberty and equality has become more inclusive.
I'm proud to be an American because of our creative can-do spirit, not just in inventing things but in making things useful for EVERYONE, like we did in mass-producing an affordable car. And in great private/public partnerships, such as canals, the phone and highway systems, and in putting a man on the moon. Much of this has been lost since 1980, but I have faith it will be restored.
I'm proud to be an American because of the abolitionists and others, both North and South, who stood up to slavery, through speeches and actions, Uncle Tom's Cabin and the Underground Railroad.
I'm proud to be an American because of those who stood up to the forces of corruption and corporatism at the dawn of the 20th century, and fought to restore a sense of greater equity to our culture. Thank you, Jane Addams, Upton Sinclair, and so many others, including even trust-bustin' Teddy!
I'm proud to be an American because of those women and men who stood up for women's rights, beginning with just insuring the basic right to vote, but continuing even to the present day with the Lillie Ledbetter act.
I'm proud to be an American for the workers who've stood up to help make this the greatest middle class in the history of the world, primarily through the power of unions.
I'm proud to be an American, because of the Greatest generation, who endured through the Great Depression and then fought so valiantly against the forces of fascism. I'm proud of all our soldiers throughout American history. Even though their leaders weren't always wise in what they got us into, our serviceman always gave it their best.
I'm proud to be an American because of those who strove for greater civil rights. Like Martin Luther King, I have a dream, a dream of equal opportunity and love for all mankind. I'm proud that we never just canonize and freeze our American quest, but that each generation brings us closer to living the dream envisioned by our founding fathers.
I'm proud to be an American right now, so I can continue to fight for the dream of a better America. Right now, we fight for equal rights for gays, lesbians, transgenders and all those continually left out of full participation. Right now, we fight against discriminatory laws that would racially profile Hispanics. Right now, we fight to breathe new life into a democracy that has become moribund with corporate lobbyists and a controlling media. Right now, we fight to move our healthcare system in to the 21st century, where all are covered, healthcare is a right, and no one goes bankrupt trying to take care of loved ones.Right now , we fight to restore our environment from those who would continue to pillage it, and to halt or reverse the devastating effects of climate change caused by global warming.
Finally, I'm proud to be an American because I was born here. Not as romantic reason as the rest, but nonetheless true. Like all people everywhere, I have a xenophobic and jingoistic attachment to my homeland. After all, I'm pretty special, so where I live must be pretty special, too.
I'm proud to be an American because of our Constitution, not because it advocates any particular political system (democracy, republic) nor economic system (capitalism, communism), but because of the sheer genius of it's checks and balances. Investing power in multiple sources has probably done more to keep this nation free and progressing forward than anything else we've done!
I'm proud to be an American because of the Bill of Rights, the greatest addendum ever made. Not only did it initially codify basic civil liberties, it has grown and expanded as our sense of liberty and equality has become more inclusive.
I'm proud to be an American because of our creative can-do spirit, not just in inventing things but in making things useful for EVERYONE, like we did in mass-producing an affordable car. And in great private/public partnerships, such as canals, the phone and highway systems, and in putting a man on the moon. Much of this has been lost since 1980, but I have faith it will be restored.
I'm proud to be an American because of the abolitionists and others, both North and South, who stood up to slavery, through speeches and actions, Uncle Tom's Cabin and the Underground Railroad.
I'm proud to be an American because of those who stood up to the forces of corruption and corporatism at the dawn of the 20th century, and fought to restore a sense of greater equity to our culture. Thank you, Jane Addams, Upton Sinclair, and so many others, including even trust-bustin' Teddy!
I'm proud to be an American because of those women and men who stood up for women's rights, beginning with just insuring the basic right to vote, but continuing even to the present day with the Lillie Ledbetter act.
I'm proud to be an American for the workers who've stood up to help make this the greatest middle class in the history of the world, primarily through the power of unions.
I'm proud to be an American, because of the Greatest generation, who endured through the Great Depression and then fought so valiantly against the forces of fascism. I'm proud of all our soldiers throughout American history. Even though their leaders weren't always wise in what they got us into, our serviceman always gave it their best.
I'm proud to be an American because of those who strove for greater civil rights. Like Martin Luther King, I have a dream, a dream of equal opportunity and love for all mankind. I'm proud that we never just canonize and freeze our American quest, but that each generation brings us closer to living the dream envisioned by our founding fathers.
I'm proud to be an American right now, so I can continue to fight for the dream of a better America. Right now, we fight for equal rights for gays, lesbians, transgenders and all those continually left out of full participation. Right now, we fight against discriminatory laws that would racially profile Hispanics. Right now, we fight to breathe new life into a democracy that has become moribund with corporate lobbyists and a controlling media. Right now, we fight to move our healthcare system in to the 21st century, where all are covered, healthcare is a right, and no one goes bankrupt trying to take care of loved ones.Right now , we fight to restore our environment from those who would continue to pillage it, and to halt or reverse the devastating effects of climate change caused by global warming.
Finally, I'm proud to be an American because I was born here. Not as romantic reason as the rest, but nonetheless true. Like all people everywhere, I have a xenophobic and jingoistic attachment to my homeland. After all, I'm pretty special, so where I live must be pretty special, too.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Forbidden Phrases! The President's Spill Speech
Get out the pitchforks! Even the liberals are turning on the President! I thought, that was a pretty good summation of what we've done, how to handle the spill and it's cleanup, and a reminder of where we need to go. And then Olbermann, Matthews, and Fineman danced it flat and stomped on it.
Anything specific the President would have proposed in energy legislation would have been torn apart in minutes. It would be like the President dangling an idea into the Amazon, only to have the ravenous piranhas of Republicans, Blue dogs and media pundits strip it to the bone. I wish he would have done it, anyways, but that's just not how President Obama works. His legislative and executive accomplishments are massive, but since he does them with the best consensus he can muster, instead of the loud, sloppy, cow boyish screams of a dictator, America hardly notices.
What did bother me was later on the Rachel Maddow show, when it was brought up that he never used the phrases global warming or climate change. Then Ezra Klein (I think that's who it was) said they decided that they didn't use them because they don't poll well. THEY DON"T POLL WELL? We're not gonna tell the American people the truth because IT DOESN'T POLL WELL? WTF?
I'm not blaming the White House per se, but how far does America have it's head in the sand not to want to face up to reality? This whole oil spill crisis amount to nothing if it's just about getting the damn hole plugged (which may be increasingly problematic given the possibility of sea bed cracks).
I could go on and on, but the bottom line is climate change is not going to go away just because we can't face up to looking at it. We need more courageous politicians like Al Gore to come to the forefront and make us look at it, even it's not the politically smart thing to do. They have to do it because it may be the only thing that can save us.
Anything specific the President would have proposed in energy legislation would have been torn apart in minutes. It would be like the President dangling an idea into the Amazon, only to have the ravenous piranhas of Republicans, Blue dogs and media pundits strip it to the bone. I wish he would have done it, anyways, but that's just not how President Obama works. His legislative and executive accomplishments are massive, but since he does them with the best consensus he can muster, instead of the loud, sloppy, cow boyish screams of a dictator, America hardly notices.
What did bother me was later on the Rachel Maddow show, when it was brought up that he never used the phrases global warming or climate change. Then Ezra Klein (I think that's who it was) said they decided that they didn't use them because they don't poll well. THEY DON"T POLL WELL? We're not gonna tell the American people the truth because IT DOESN'T POLL WELL? WTF?
I'm not blaming the White House per se, but how far does America have it's head in the sand not to want to face up to reality? This whole oil spill crisis amount to nothing if it's just about getting the damn hole plugged (which may be increasingly problematic given the possibility of sea bed cracks).
I could go on and on, but the bottom line is climate change is not going to go away just because we can't face up to looking at it. We need more courageous politicians like Al Gore to come to the forefront and make us look at it, even it's not the politically smart thing to do. They have to do it because it may be the only thing that can save us.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
New Coast 1
Surf’s up!
Dig those mandible waves! They’re flying into Sacramento Beach at the speed of wompbelly! I am ready to go crashin ‘n’ slapshin’ as soon as Randy gets here. Then we’ll grab our boards, take off on our badass bikes, and hit the ocean deck! Until then, I thought I’d give this new websyde of Denny’s a whirly twirl. Suppose to be talking to cats all across the fractured states of America. Wella, we’ll see. Supposed to be super secure, no prying eyes and all that. Wella, we’ll see.
Maybe I should state my name, rank and cereal brand. Wella, maybe not. I’ll just say I’m Gene. My Dad calls me Eugene (damn that birth certificate!), and my friends call me Gene-bo. Ain’t that grand! Dad says I’m named after my Great-Grandfather, and I try to listen when he tells me about him, but one ear out the other, y’know? At least I ain’t no freebin’ Junior, I hate that crap-a-mundo.
I live here in Frandor, beautiful fandancy suburb of New L.A. Okay, it’s not that beautiful. It’s closer to a crappin’ lower-middle-class hellhole, but what the sugary drops, at least it’s home! We’re only a few blocks from the Pacific, and those groovy mandible waves. Dad and I are close enough to New Hollywood to get to work (without paying New Hollywood rents).
I got plenty of buds, and once in a while the chickies looka my way. All in all, not too shabby. The worst part? The smell of the ocean is most often drowned out by the huge De Sally plant ten miles up north. I think’s it’s one of the biggest in the world, if what I see on the netter is right. Denny works up there,. Maybe I shoudn’t say that. Oh, wella, it ain’t no freebin’ crime. Anyway, I might be lying about his name. Wella, he’s the smartest guy I know, and if he ain’t right about this websyde, we’re all screwed. Can’t see why they’d care. Wouldn’t know a state secret if it bit me on the beeber.
I work mostly at night, which leaves my days free to roam the beachfront. Thank Krishna my Mom was an Indian chickie, straight from Bollywood to Hollywood, cuz otherwise, if I was as light as Dad and his cracker ass family, I might be one crispy critter.
I was born May 7, 2027, out in North Los Angeles, which is now gone, daddy, gone. No visitin’ the old homestead for me. Love the ocean, but even I can’t hold my breath that long. I ain’t no degree boy. Got enough community college to work at Dad’s place. Learning the new editing equipment takes time, but I got a knack for it. I ain’t as good as Dad, but I ain’t trying to be. I work on some of the best series you may have heard of (assuming you get netter access to that kind of stuff). Some’s even replayed on the old tube. Ever hear of The Three Wiseguys? Yep, I help edit that. I leave out the all the jackass goofups the actors do – jeezie-luigi, all that money going to such utter and complete freebups. You have no idea what I protect you from. I also do The Really Golden Girls , starring Miley Cyrus, Dakota Fanning and Kellyn Manders. Can’t hardly believe how popular those old broads are. And before you get any big ideas. I don’t really get to meet the actors. My Dad had a party once, and Oscar winner Kirsten Dunst was there. Of course, that was before The Big One. Oh, and I forgot. My Mom was in a some movies, including a few leads. When I think of her, though, that’s not what I remember. It doesn’t computize to me that my Mom was a celebrity. She was my Mom.
Enough ‘o’ that. It’s surf’s up time! Randy’ll come soon, we can Schwinn power our way to the beachfront, catch them while the tide is good. Can’t beat the rushy you get from ridin’ atop a bigun. Maybe Miranda ‘n’ Suzi'll be there , wearin’ their seethrus over the sunscreen. Then we can grab a sushi dog, wash it down with De Sally Razzie, walk the beachfront. Then beat the afternoon bakers at a Pod Club, maybe get the shakin’ groove with one of the chickies. Randy’s sticky sweet on Miranda, ‘n’ I like Suzi okay, but I really like field days, if you get get my drifters. Suzi is much more crushy sweet on me than I am on her . I and commitments, we don’t get along too well. I think that’s the way a lot of people are out here. From what Denny says, there used to be a lot more committed people. Wella, I don’t mean crazies, I mean like marriages ‘n’ stuff. Didn’t stop my dad from not tying the knot with my mom. But it also didn’t stop her from loving her with all his heart and soul. I know he still thinks of her ALL the time. He blames himself for her not being on the right side of the divide, and it haunts him. I know. He acts like it doesn’t get to him, ‘n’ everybody thinks of him as so easygoing, but they don’t see him like I do. They don’t see him rolling and muttering in his sleep, they don’t see the way he stares blankly towards the southwest, where most of his old world lies buried.
Oh, Krishna! I got maudlin agin, didn’t I? Don’t know why that keeps a-happenin’. If you were here, you’d know I’m one of the most happy-go-lucky guys on the planet. Not used to writin’ this much stuff. Strange what comes out of you sometimes. So I guess maybe I will pack it ip for now, afore I get too weird.
Wella, I’m looking forward to readin’ stuff from other places. Don’t hear too much from outside of here. I ain’t been nowhere else but here. Not that I’d want to be anywhere else. I’ve always heard that Californy is th’ place ya oughter be. It certainly might not be the best place, if there’s another Big One. Oh wella, live on the edge, what the freeb! I can’t imagine livin’ without those mandible waves! Crashin ‘n’ a slapshin! I’m just curious, is all. Denny says there was a time when we knew more about other parts of the world. Now, people seem more self-absorbed, and the netter ain’t so good now as Denny says it was. Corpies put up barriers, might like keeping people apart. I don’t want to get into that, I trust Denny, but I don’t want to be too moronic. Anyways, leave me a dime talk if you feel like it. Love to hear from the Southland. The Big Easter, the Wild Prairie, even places I don’t know about. And, goshers, Uncle Doug, it would be swelly-good to hear from you. Denny says you may be connected.
I hear Randy Schwinning near! Gotta go! Surf’s up!
Dig those mandible waves! They’re flying into Sacramento Beach at the speed of wompbelly! I am ready to go crashin ‘n’ slapshin’ as soon as Randy gets here. Then we’ll grab our boards, take off on our badass bikes, and hit the ocean deck! Until then, I thought I’d give this new websyde of Denny’s a whirly twirl. Suppose to be talking to cats all across the fractured states of America. Wella, we’ll see. Supposed to be super secure, no prying eyes and all that. Wella, we’ll see.
Maybe I should state my name, rank and cereal brand. Wella, maybe not. I’ll just say I’m Gene. My Dad calls me Eugene (damn that birth certificate!), and my friends call me Gene-bo. Ain’t that grand! Dad says I’m named after my Great-Grandfather, and I try to listen when he tells me about him, but one ear out the other, y’know? At least I ain’t no freebin’ Junior, I hate that crap-a-mundo.
I live here in Frandor, beautiful fandancy suburb of New L.A. Okay, it’s not that beautiful. It’s closer to a crappin’ lower-middle-class hellhole, but what the sugary drops, at least it’s home! We’re only a few blocks from the Pacific, and those groovy mandible waves. Dad and I are close enough to New Hollywood to get to work (without paying New Hollywood rents).
I got plenty of buds, and once in a while the chickies looka my way. All in all, not too shabby. The worst part? The smell of the ocean is most often drowned out by the huge De Sally plant ten miles up north. I think’s it’s one of the biggest in the world, if what I see on the netter is right. Denny works up there,. Maybe I shoudn’t say that. Oh, wella, it ain’t no freebin’ crime. Anyway, I might be lying about his name. Wella, he’s the smartest guy I know, and if he ain’t right about this websyde, we’re all screwed. Can’t see why they’d care. Wouldn’t know a state secret if it bit me on the beeber.
I work mostly at night, which leaves my days free to roam the beachfront. Thank Krishna my Mom was an Indian chickie, straight from Bollywood to Hollywood, cuz otherwise, if I was as light as Dad and his cracker ass family, I might be one crispy critter.
I was born May 7, 2027, out in North Los Angeles, which is now gone, daddy, gone. No visitin’ the old homestead for me. Love the ocean, but even I can’t hold my breath that long. I ain’t no degree boy. Got enough community college to work at Dad’s place. Learning the new editing equipment takes time, but I got a knack for it. I ain’t as good as Dad, but I ain’t trying to be. I work on some of the best series you may have heard of (assuming you get netter access to that kind of stuff). Some’s even replayed on the old tube. Ever hear of The Three Wiseguys? Yep, I help edit that. I leave out the all the jackass goofups the actors do – jeezie-luigi, all that money going to such utter and complete freebups. You have no idea what I protect you from. I also do The Really Golden Girls , starring Miley Cyrus, Dakota Fanning and Kellyn Manders. Can’t hardly believe how popular those old broads are. And before you get any big ideas. I don’t really get to meet the actors. My Dad had a party once, and Oscar winner Kirsten Dunst was there. Of course, that was before The Big One. Oh, and I forgot. My Mom was in a some movies, including a few leads. When I think of her, though, that’s not what I remember. It doesn’t computize to me that my Mom was a celebrity. She was my Mom.
Enough ‘o’ that. It’s surf’s up time! Randy’ll come soon, we can Schwinn power our way to the beachfront, catch them while the tide is good. Can’t beat the rushy you get from ridin’ atop a bigun. Maybe Miranda ‘n’ Suzi'll be there , wearin’ their seethrus over the sunscreen. Then we can grab a sushi dog, wash it down with De Sally Razzie, walk the beachfront. Then beat the afternoon bakers at a Pod Club, maybe get the shakin’ groove with one of the chickies. Randy’s sticky sweet on Miranda, ‘n’ I like Suzi okay, but I really like field days, if you get get my drifters. Suzi is much more crushy sweet on me than I am on her . I and commitments, we don’t get along too well. I think that’s the way a lot of people are out here. From what Denny says, there used to be a lot more committed people. Wella, I don’t mean crazies, I mean like marriages ‘n’ stuff. Didn’t stop my dad from not tying the knot with my mom. But it also didn’t stop her from loving her with all his heart and soul. I know he still thinks of her ALL the time. He blames himself for her not being on the right side of the divide, and it haunts him. I know. He acts like it doesn’t get to him, ‘n’ everybody thinks of him as so easygoing, but they don’t see him like I do. They don’t see him rolling and muttering in his sleep, they don’t see the way he stares blankly towards the southwest, where most of his old world lies buried.
Oh, Krishna! I got maudlin agin, didn’t I? Don’t know why that keeps a-happenin’. If you were here, you’d know I’m one of the most happy-go-lucky guys on the planet. Not used to writin’ this much stuff. Strange what comes out of you sometimes. So I guess maybe I will pack it ip for now, afore I get too weird.
Wella, I’m looking forward to readin’ stuff from other places. Don’t hear too much from outside of here. I ain’t been nowhere else but here. Not that I’d want to be anywhere else. I’ve always heard that Californy is th’ place ya oughter be. It certainly might not be the best place, if there’s another Big One. Oh wella, live on the edge, what the freeb! I can’t imagine livin’ without those mandible waves! Crashin ‘n’ a slapshin! I’m just curious, is all. Denny says there was a time when we knew more about other parts of the world. Now, people seem more self-absorbed, and the netter ain’t so good now as Denny says it was. Corpies put up barriers, might like keeping people apart. I don’t want to get into that, I trust Denny, but I don’t want to be too moronic. Anyways, leave me a dime talk if you feel like it. Love to hear from the Southland. The Big Easter, the Wild Prairie, even places I don’t know about. And, goshers, Uncle Doug, it would be swelly-good to hear from you. Denny says you may be connected.
I hear Randy Schwinning near! Gotta go! Surf’s up!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
American Idol Jumps the Shark
The announcement of Lee Dewyze as the American Idol rang as loudly and true as Fonzie on a pair of skis. A travesty of a decision, it culminated a season of of truly awful moments. When Lilly, among others, were left at the starting gate, failing to make the top 12, the sniff of doom lurked about. In every case, except for perhaps Crystal and Siobhan, the American people chose the blander of the competitors.
Simon slept walked through the season, Randy was dawged out, Kara was uninspiring, and Ellen seemed mostly lost. Unique and clever song choices were few and far between. Product placement dominated and made me feel like I was watching one long commercial.
So why fight or care about this tired, old program? Because there are damn few things that Americans hold in common enough to talk about any more. Our moments of social symmetry are becoming fewer and fewer. It sounds trite, but it's a water cooler show that brings diverse people together to share commentary and common experience. In this day of multi-hundred channel televisions, an Internet with millions of choices, cell phones that in my opinion are actually driving us apart instead of together, it is refreshing to have something that everybody can talk about.
So rather than abandon it altogether, I would like to discuss some possible solutions. If it is at all technologically possible, they need to do what they can to enforce limited voting. It is ridiculous to try to have a fair contest when tweeners are sending their phones into robo-call overdrive. Let's use technology to limit each phone to only a small number of calls. With repeat voting eliminated, we might get a fairer representation of an Idol.
Secondly, let's increase judge input, as they do in Dancing with the Stars. Include mentor(s) each week who specialize in the area of music being highlighted that week. Have the judges and mentors rank each of the contestants, average the ranks, and then blend it in with the public vote.
Thirdly, have only two regular judges, and then rotate in one to three judges. The panel and opinion will look fresh and different every time.
Fourth, cut the product placement crap - you're already making enough money. cut the inside jokes - I don't care what Kara and Ryan might be smirking about.
Fifth, improve the song selection. I don't know if the problem is the list of songs they have to choose from, or if the contestants are trying too much to play it safe. Some songs should be retired, virtually anything by Whitney Houston, for example. I so wished that Shioban would have tooken on Roy Orbison, or done Live and Let die in McCartney week.
So help with other suggestions here. If you have other ideas to help other shows become water cooler shows, let me know those too.
Thanks America, for rewarding Captain Pitchy. May we do better in the future.
Simon slept walked through the season, Randy was dawged out, Kara was uninspiring, and Ellen seemed mostly lost. Unique and clever song choices were few and far between. Product placement dominated and made me feel like I was watching one long commercial.
So why fight or care about this tired, old program? Because there are damn few things that Americans hold in common enough to talk about any more. Our moments of social symmetry are becoming fewer and fewer. It sounds trite, but it's a water cooler show that brings diverse people together to share commentary and common experience. In this day of multi-hundred channel televisions, an Internet with millions of choices, cell phones that in my opinion are actually driving us apart instead of together, it is refreshing to have something that everybody can talk about.
So rather than abandon it altogether, I would like to discuss some possible solutions. If it is at all technologically possible, they need to do what they can to enforce limited voting. It is ridiculous to try to have a fair contest when tweeners are sending their phones into robo-call overdrive. Let's use technology to limit each phone to only a small number of calls. With repeat voting eliminated, we might get a fairer representation of an Idol.
Secondly, let's increase judge input, as they do in Dancing with the Stars. Include mentor(s) each week who specialize in the area of music being highlighted that week. Have the judges and mentors rank each of the contestants, average the ranks, and then blend it in with the public vote.
Thirdly, have only two regular judges, and then rotate in one to three judges. The panel and opinion will look fresh and different every time.
Fourth, cut the product placement crap - you're already making enough money. cut the inside jokes - I don't care what Kara and Ryan might be smirking about.
Fifth, improve the song selection. I don't know if the problem is the list of songs they have to choose from, or if the contestants are trying too much to play it safe. Some songs should be retired, virtually anything by Whitney Houston, for example. I so wished that Shioban would have tooken on Roy Orbison, or done Live and Let die in McCartney week.
So help with other suggestions here. If you have other ideas to help other shows become water cooler shows, let me know those too.
Thanks America, for rewarding Captain Pitchy. May we do better in the future.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Oil's Not Well in the Gulf
How devastating is the oil spill in the Gulf? Will it "magically dissipate" in the vast ocean per Rushy Limbaugh? Will it permanently end the Gulf as we know it, destroying coral reefs, fishing industries and coastlines? I imagine it will end up somewhere in between, although the longer the leak continues, the more it will confirm the worries of the second question.
I'm not an environmental scientist (although my son is). I know there have been other serious spills, in addition to the Exxon Valdez. But this seems particularly onerous to me. I think we'll be seeing effects of this for many years to come. I'm concerned not just for the coastline, but what it is doing to the ecology of the Gulf as a whole, not to mention the compounding effect of the chemical dispersants being used.
Whatever the impact, I think all political sides can agree that this is not a good thing. This is a particularly difficult conundrum for conservatives. You either have to advocate we stop drilling in these spots where such devastation can take place when something goes wrong, or you have to support increased government regulation and oversight to prevent this from ever occurring again. Watching the cartoon style avoidance of responsibility at the recent Congressional hearing should convince even the most stalwart corporatist that regulation is indispensable.
The government has it's share of blame, but that's because of it's inability to regulate, it's caving to corporate donors, it's deferral in the simplest fundamentals of oversight. But make no mistake where the vast majority of responsibility lies. This country was run by two oil executives for eight years. Congress has been rendered ineffective by a combination of Republican extremists and Blue Dog Democrats willing to sell their soul to the highest corporate bidder. Anybody who thinks progressives control our government paid absolutely no attention to the health care debate.
All this fuss for a fungible fuel source that will not help us domestically, goes into a big global pot, increasing the oil supply by the tiniest of fractions. We need to concentrate on the technologies of the future, to help make America independent, proud, and leading the world once again to a brighter tomorrow.
I'm not an environmental scientist (although my son is). I know there have been other serious spills, in addition to the Exxon Valdez. But this seems particularly onerous to me. I think we'll be seeing effects of this for many years to come. I'm concerned not just for the coastline, but what it is doing to the ecology of the Gulf as a whole, not to mention the compounding effect of the chemical dispersants being used.
Whatever the impact, I think all political sides can agree that this is not a good thing. This is a particularly difficult conundrum for conservatives. You either have to advocate we stop drilling in these spots where such devastation can take place when something goes wrong, or you have to support increased government regulation and oversight to prevent this from ever occurring again. Watching the cartoon style avoidance of responsibility at the recent Congressional hearing should convince even the most stalwart corporatist that regulation is indispensable.
The government has it's share of blame, but that's because of it's inability to regulate, it's caving to corporate donors, it's deferral in the simplest fundamentals of oversight. But make no mistake where the vast majority of responsibility lies. This country was run by two oil executives for eight years. Congress has been rendered ineffective by a combination of Republican extremists and Blue Dog Democrats willing to sell their soul to the highest corporate bidder. Anybody who thinks progressives control our government paid absolutely no attention to the health care debate.
All this fuss for a fungible fuel source that will not help us domestically, goes into a big global pot, increasing the oil supply by the tiniest of fractions. We need to concentrate on the technologies of the future, to help make America independent, proud, and leading the world once again to a brighter tomorrow.
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