It ain't all pizzas and cream

So what's with all the f*cking earthquakes?

Not to give the sign-waving apocalypse-mongers any fuel  for their Christ-is-coming arguments, but what's with all the fucking earthquakes lately?  The most recent was last night in Guam, preceded by one off the coast of Japan, and before that Washington DC and rural Illinois.  The scientists, from what I can tell, don't seem that worried. But with earthquakes occurring along so many different fault systems (and in Washington DC, where the only faults are above ground), I can't help but think the seismograph-watchers ought to be at least a little nervous. Not that the world is gonna swallow its crust, and us along with it, but with so much underground activity in so many different places across the globe, someone should be looking for patterns. No?

Guess it's time to buy some rubber carpets and nail the furniture to the floor.

Castro deposed

No, not Fidel.
Jason. 

The dreadlocked stoner with the "What, me worry?" smile was finally voted off American Idol last night, after botching the lyrics to Bob Dylan's Mr. Tambourine Man on Tuesday's performance.  Although the result was not unexpected... forgetting the lyrics is pretty much the kiss of death... the program's producers did their best to generate some drama.  And I was surprised to see that, of 50 million votes cast, each of the 4 contestants was separated from the next by less than a million votes. For those doing the math, that's 11, 12, 13, and 14 million votes. Which means that Jason, who always looked to me like the result of a failed eugenics project aimed at fusing the DNA of of Harpo Marx and Bob Marley, got 11 million votes. Doubtless there was multiple voting going on  across the board, and mostly by tween girls, who are already guilty of cellphone abuse. But I've got to say I'm relieved to see him go. He was, after all, olutclassed and outgunned for the past couple of weeks. I'm sure we haven't seen the last of him, however. He'll probably be slightly harder to get rid of than the other Castro.

Tidbits

Well, I'm really glad that the PA Democratic primary is in the history books.  I will not miss the dozen daily automated phone calls urging me to vote for one candidate or another.  Now it's up to the folks in Indiana to help settle this mess. 

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Congrats to the Philadelphia Flyers for advancing in the NHL playoffs.  Remember that last year the Flyers finished the regular season with the worst record for a non-expansion team in the history of the NHL. And tho this year they have not lived up to the Broad Street Bullies or Legion of Doom legacies, they have risen from the ashes to be a formidable (tho sometimes disorganized) opponent. I hope the Caps' Alex Ovechkin enjoys his summer vacation.

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The PA state legislature recently failed to pass a law requiring that gun owners report the loss or theft of a stolen weapon to the police.  One objection cited by lawmakers was that the law would penalize the gun collector who lost, say, 48 guns but only remembered 46 of them on his police report. Why does this make me feel no safer?  The only people I want having that many weapons are the army and the cops. I know I've raised the gun issue here before, and I'm not looking for a fight, but I really don't understand a few things...
1. What is the legitimate civilian use for automatic or assault weapons?
3. Which number is larger:  home invasions annually thwarted by owners of legally purchased and licensed handguns? Or annual accidental deaths resulting from legally purchased and licensed handguns?

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The Maverick ("Ruby", I've decided, wins the name-the-car contest) is back in the shop for what I hope will be the last in a series of repairs and adjustments to her carb. Hope to have her back on the road by the weekend.

Desperation doesn't sell

It's one of those terrible American axioms.  If you want or need something desperately, the way to ensure that you never get it is to look like you want or need it desperately.  Someone should really explain this to Hillary Clinton.  Because lately, her soundbites are starting to seem, well, desperate.  The invisible Bosnian sniper fire. The aw shucks stories about her pappy teaching her to use a squirrel gun.  The bit about God speaking to her on long walks in the woods.  I get better pitches from porn dealers on MySpace..."I'm Hilly and I like shooting muskrats, talking to Jesus, and getting naked with my girlfriends..."

There seemed to be such relief in the Clinton camp this week that Sen. Obama finally said something that was less than gracefully phrased, tho not technically incorrect.   (Safety tip: you should never TELL the bitter gun-toting, Bible-thumping hillbillies that they are bitter, gun-toting, Bible-thumping, hillbillies. It makes them mad.) But it was good news for Clinton, who got to take the high road for a change. But frankly, Obama's comment really isn't bad enough to have much impact, in my opinion.  For that he would have had to call them "crackers." 

Sadly, Hillary is the one who opened the door on the dependability issue with those TV ads asking us whom we'd rather have in the White House when the call comes announcing that the world was like a clown with his pants on fire.   Because when under fire, like this week, Hillary hasn't looked all that steady.  Of course, if the Dems had anything like a reasonable primay process, she wouldn't have any more to fear from Sen. Obama other than what cabinet post to give him.   But, alas, the Dems ...my party right or wrong...have a sorry patchwork of primaries and caucuses where even second place earns a candidate delegates.  And weak or spiteful leadership that has taken two key states (FL and MI) out of the decision-making process altogether.  (I recently send a futile email to the DNC to ask, politely, WTF.  And closed with, "please don't make me vote for McCain." I got, of course, a form email thanking me for my support and asking if I might like to stuff envelopes.)

So where does this all lead?  Well, to me giving Senator Obama another look.  Generally, idealists don't really wow me. Nor do great speeches, unless backed by great ideas.  But I would like to see the looks on the faces of the pharmaceutical and insurance company execs when Barack takes the oath of office.  Guess I'll decide after I pull the curtain shut behind me.

In my Idol moments

Call it a guilty pleasure, or maybe I'm becoming one of those old farts who believes that a prime time talent show is entertainment, but this is my second consecutive season of watching American Idol with a semi-religious devotion.  And for an atheist, that's saying something. 

But I can't resist throwing in a drive-by post about the current state of Idol contestants.

First, recently ejected blue-eyed-soul singer Michael Johns....
It's the ascot, stupid.  Once maybe, but twice?  Seriously, you thought we wouldn't notice.  Also, you're a little too mature to get enough call-in votes from text-abusing tweens.  Not to worry, though.  I suspect a record contract will be forthcoming.  After all Robert Palmer's dead, right?

David Cook...
Possibly the most interesting contestant, in that you do your homework, make careful song choices, and take an active role in your arrangements.  You might buck the general anti-rock trend and take this thing.

David Archuleta
Can't insult you too much, kid, other than to say your dad over-coaches you. When you outgrow the Garanimals, you might turn into something dangerous.   Bet you never guessed you'd have this many girls (s)creaming over you.

Jason Castro
I never had much tolerance for Waspafarians.  Or stoners.  Frankly I don't get the appeal.  But I'll say this. You're not arrogant.  Which helps. But how long can you survive on the "who, me?" approach.

Kristy Lee Cook
You sold your "favorite" horse to get the money to travel to the idol audition. Really? That doesn't make any points with me.  Just makes me think you didn't really care about the horse.  And makes me think you're a bit of a shark. Isn't there some airline with singing flight attendants that could use your services?

Syesha Mercado
Another shark. In it to win it and you don't care who you step over to do it. Unfortunately, the high notes are your downfall.  Try singing for TV ads. 

Brooke White
You're legitimately talented. Perhaps enough to win this thing. Try singing some Sarah McLaughlin or Tori Amos.  Something less sunny, more dark and twisty. And stop apologizing already.

Carly Smithson
You're tattoo'd and Irish. I really should like you.  I should. Really. But I don't.  Maybe it's the weird angry face and the cigar-store-Indian stance.  Or the ridiculous outfits.  Or the shouting.  Yes, that's it.  The shouting. Please go away.
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PS - Rock on, Amanda, wherever you are.

The nerds are in the house

Anyone watch Battlestar Galactica?  I mean the new one. I've only been a part-time fan, but saw something that caught my attention.

I just got done watching the series summary show, peppered with interviews with the show's creative team, Ron Moore and David Eick.  Eick characterized character Gaius Baltar as, "...the show's libido.  He's equal parts Steven Hawking, Jim Morrison, and the backroom side of Bill Clinton." 

Wow. The nerds are in da hizzy. 

Only a couple of nerds would classify a gutless bookworm as "the show's libido" and give him a blonde model as a lover.  These guys clearly spent way too much time whacking off to Victoria's Secret catalogs as teenagers.   

I'm old enough to remember Lost in Space and am having trouble seeing Doctor Smith as  "the show's Hugh Heffner."

Maybe these sci-fi shows should have something analogous to a civilian review board.  Or an armed air marshal.  Say Vin Diesel or Tommy Lee Jones.  Someone to keep the nerds in line.  Just a thought.

Spring has sprung...slowly

Where's that global warming everyone's been wetting their diapers about?  Around here, spring's arrival has been slower than a drunk paying his bar tab. Nonetheless, we headed out with friends to one of our favorite local hikes on Saturday. We didn't bring the backpack carrier for the baby, figuring she'd want to walk. Well, she didn't. Nor did she want to be carried. Mostly, she wanted to sit. And eat. And sit. 

Mommy sported her new pink hair. 

The baby enjoyed the playground far more than the hike.

Looking for precedent? There's no place like Rome.

A recent NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll asked a random sample of pedestrians in New York's Times Square the simple question: "What Religion is Barack Obama?" A surprising 13% answered, "Muslim."

An erroneous email about the candidate has insisted that if elected President, Mr. Obama will be sworn in with his right hand on the Koran rather than the Bible.

Add to these the recently leaked photo of Obama in Somali attire, and one might conclude that there is some kind of conspiracy bent on giving us the impression that, on some level, Mr. Obama is 'not quite American.'

Interestingly, despite this tidal wave of misinformation, the news may not be all bad for Mr. Obama.

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Thanks to my father's love of ancient Rome, I have grown fond of fleshing out the parallels dad frequently sketched out between the rise and fall of the Roman Empire and the rise and (impending) decline of America. 

So many of my childhood dinner conversations centered around the decline of Rome and what my father considered the impending decline of America that I can still hear him warn, “The Barbarians are at the gates!”  Of course, my dad voted for Nixon.  Twice.  So today I take his comments in that context.  But it is nonetheless interesting to note that even Rome had its precedent for an Obama Presidency. 

Emperor Marcus Julius Phillippus (244-249 AD) was Syrian, though his father was Roman.  ‘Philip the Arab,’ as he was known, is best remembered for ending a Teutonic tribal invasion, putting down a rebellion by one of his generals from that campaign, and for his tolerance of Christianity.  So, overall, he was considered a rather successful Emperor, though the Empire itself had begun its long slow slide into oblivion.  It is not beyond imagination that Senator Obama could become America’s Phillippus, and give us at least a few years of stability and prosperity. Tho for now, my money's still on Hillary.

Fear of a Black Cabinet (Pt.2)

So, as Senator Barack Obama gains ever more momentum in his quest for the White House, why are we still unable to address race?

Several members of Mr. Obama’s team recently stood together at a press conference to address Geraldine Ferarro’s recent comments about Obama and race.  Coincidentally or intentionally, all were African American.  It was probably the first time many Americans considered the possibility of an all-Black Cabinet.  Of course, because we cannot discuss race in America, nobody in the media (as far as I’m aware) made mention of it.

Ever since Mr. Obama became a serious contender for the Democratic nomination, what  the talking heads in the media have been asking is whether America is ready for a Black president.  Comedian/commentator Jon Stewart  pointed out in a recent interview with Larry King (and I’m paraphrasing here), ‘when George W. Bush was elected, nobody asked if America was ready for a moron President.’  Mr. Obama is clearly more knowledgeable, more erudite,, more charming, and more open to progressive ideas than is Mr. Bush. So why should his race matter? In that same Larry King interview, Jon Stewart said (again paraphrasing), ‘do people think that Obama will just let Black people do whatever they want? ’  The answer to that, by the way, is no.  But for a more real answer, I think we have to look at that press conference again. Would the idea of Caucasians being a minority in the Presidential Cabinet prove challenging for even the bluiest of Blue Staters to overcome? Time, and the Superdelegates, will tell.  And of course, when the dust settles, we may end up with President McCain, another old White guy telling us what’s what.  Which would not surprise me. Every time there’s a “throw the rascals out” movement in American politics, the incumbents and Conservatives seem nonetheless to pull victory from the jaws of defeat. 

But I think that until we can discuss race openly in America, neither collapsing in shame nor erupting in violence, we will get nowhere in addressing the racism that affects all of us. 

Why Can't Americans Discuss Race (Pt.1)

Everyone in America is a racist. That is, every American over the age of 6 has, at one time or another, made a judgment about someone based primarily on race.  Whether it’s the Korean grocer who checks to be sure his billy-club is within reach when three African-American teens enter his store.  Or the Black man who sees that the timid driver causing the traffic jam ahead of him is Asian and mutters, “that figures,” under his breath. Or the Hispanic day worker who sees the White diner manager approach his table and assumes that he’ll be asked to move to the counter. Or the more conventional Jim Crow type of racism. 

Even the most liberal Caucasian woman whose array of close friends resembles the United Nations will be unlikely to conclude that the four tattooed Hispanic young men in “wife beater” t-shirts approaching her on the street are on their way to a graduate conference on ethics.  And then there’s the bizarre “reverse racism” in which the Black man is presumed to be more ‘cool’ or the Native American more spiritual by virtue of his very race and is thus made into a cartoonish figure of hollow admiration. (I blame Kerouac and his friends for this one).

So, if we’re all racists, why can’t we talk openly about race?  Why is the only socially acceptable standard to pretend that any cultural differences that exist within American society simply aren’t there…even when we make judgments based on these differences daily?

Perhaps part of the answer is that we don’t want to admit how complex the issues of race truly are in America. Or that to face these issues directly would be to admit openly that America at its most fundamental level has been steadfastly untrue to the very ideals it claims so boastfully to espouse.  Like freedom.  And equality.  And justice. 

I once got in a taxi driven by a first-generation African-American.  We’d scarcely left the curb when he asked me (his White passenger) why the Black panhandler on the corner was too lazy to go out and get himself a job.  I was put in the bizarre position of having to explain to a Black man in America why another Black man in America might feel hopeless or defeated.  It was a truly strange conversation.  The best answer that I could muster was that the cabbie had arrived in America a free man, and that the great great great grandfather of the panhandler had arrived in irons.  And that the cabbie grew up in a society that told him he could reap the benefits of hard work, while the panhandler grew up in a society that told him he was worthless, no matter how hard he worked. After that, we talked about the weather. 

But what struck me most about the conversation was that the chasm between these two men was not one of race.  It was one of time. America itself had gotten in the way.  The America of 300 years ago, of 100 years ago, of 50 years ago.  This was the America that had brought the panhandler to his present state.  But the cabbie, living only in the America of today, couldn’t see that.  And so these two men were isolated from each other by the very thing that held them together: America.

(next segment to follow soon)