The Cleveland Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Well, last night was a nice night for museum-ing, so I went to the Cleveland Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It's a big glass pyramid, five stories above ground and one below. The top two floors have a big exhibition on Bruce Springsteen right now, which is unfortunate because I don't care for Springsteen. ;-) But it was neat seeing the evolution of rock music.

The basement is the biggest area, and that's where you start. They have a sort-of-chronology of music, starting with the 1930s and jazz singers like Leadbelly and Jelly Roll Morton, then working their way into the 40s with western swing and people like Les Paul (they have a big collection of Les Paul guitars), then the 50s and the doo-wop groups and Elvis, then the 60s and the folk and acid rock movements, then the 70s, 80s and 90s. The basement is sort of a chronology, but it's a mishmash... they have some computer kiosks where you can search and listen to The 500 Most Important Songs in Rock and Roll History, or review musical geneology by selecting an artist, then seeing who they influenced and who influenced them. Then they have a stretch of walls with big graphics and quotes on them, then they have a whole huge area of floor-to-ceiling glass cases. Some cases feature a collection of items from one artist, like Elvis. Other cases have a whole cornucopia of items from different artists, roughly grouped by decade. Those mishmash cases are hard to make sense of.... it's like a restaurant with all the old farm implements or sporting memorabilia on the walls, only much more cluttered. Things are marked with a small round paper sticker number, and then you need to look at the bottom of the case where they have all the descriptions. I think it would work better if they allowed a little more space for each item, and had the description right next to it. Smashed drumheads, clothing, letters, telegrams, hotel bills, guitars, drumsticks, photos, album covers, handwritten song lyrics... they're all jumbled together from different artists, and it's hard to appreciate them in that setting.

Occasionally they have a car, like a 1970s Lincoln Mark 4 with white leather monogrammed seats, owned by Elvis. Or Janis Joplin's Porsche. They had two whole walls dedicated to Jimi Hendrix... guitars, clothes, lyrics, photos. A wall of Beatles stuff... song lyrics, John's yellow band uniform from the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album, the piano on which John composed the Double Fantasy album with Yoko Ono, John's round government-issue glasses, and so on. A wall of Jim Morrison stuff, including his Cub Scout uniform and a valentine he wrote his mom when he was little. (Very odd... not really relevant for a rock history museum, I think.) They also have a clothing gallery with a whole section of clothes from Madonna (including her pointy-breast corset and other easily-recognizable clothes), Michael Jackson (the sequined Glove, his ripped jacket from the Thriller video, etc.), Queen (some cool vests that Freddie Mercury wore in 1979, made of iridescent plastic that changes color from every angle), ZZ Top (some custom guitars made of welded junk metal, and clothes, and stage props), and lots of others.

The main floor is just the ticket office and the gift shop. The second floor features a huge exhibit on Les Paul and his music and his guitar-making, and an MTV exhibit that features lots of half-disassembled TVs all playing different clips of videos from the 80s and 90s. The video clips go by in such quick snippets, and they're all flickering and changing and playing one tune but showing video from another, that it would cause seizures, even in ADHD children. ;-) But I think that's MTV's core audience, so it's perfect.

The third floor has a movie theatre (which was closed), a cafe and an exhibit lauding a Cleveland radio station, WMMS, 100.7 FM. The fourth floor has another theatre (which was closed) and a huge 3D exhibit of Pink Floyd's The Wall, with a full-size wall made of giant white bricks, and a giant 3D balloon of the evil teacher leaning over the wall and screaming at you silently. Quotes from Roger Waters, in his handwriting, cover parts of the wall, explaining how his love for intimate concerts in small clubs, and being forced to play giant arenas, made him feel distanced from his fans (that's "the wall" he talks about) and so he wrote the album.

The fifth and sixth floors are progressively smaller (you get to the sixth floor up a winding, dizzying white spiral staircase), and they're all filled with Bruce Springsteen memorabilia right now. Lots of guitars, lyric notebook sheets, clothing, pictures, gold and platinum albums, and so on. It was interesting, if you like Springsteen. I enjoyed reading the hand-written song lyrics to "Glory Days" while it was playing on the PA overhead. He has such spiky handwriting. Different than Madonna's, which is typical curly-girly (there is a letter from her to a friend, written while they were both in college.)

The escalators are all built in such a way that they funnel you down to the basement, then straight up to the second floor, then the third and fourth and fifth floors, stairs to the sixth floor and back, then escalator back down to the fifth and fourth floors, then straight back down to the main floor to dump you out. It's an interesting design.

The gift shop is huge. Half of it is just Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame-logo chotchkies. The other half consists of CDs, books and videos of Hall Of Fame inductees.

Some of the exhibits really highlighted the rock and roll lifestyle, and it really made you realize that many of these artists are fairly uneducated, driven at an early age by their creative muse to embark on a disheveled, chaotic, bohemian lifestyle which often ended badly. It was pretty interesting in that regard, but it didn't make me worship them... if anything, it made me pity them. I doubt if that's the effect the museum had intended.

But I learned a lot about the history of music, and it made me want to learn more about the music of the 1930s through the 1950s, because that all happened before I arrived here, and the museum did a good job of presenting that evolution into the 1960s and beyond, when what we call "rock" today really took shape.

Definitely worth seeing, if you're ever in Cleveland.

100 days of idiocy

There, the headline says it all. The New York Post summed it up quite well, as did Conservative Oasis. Obama gets points for disturbing the status quo, for sure, since the status quo wasn't working. And it's not like John McCain would be doing much better at this point. But the Republicans chose a weak candidate, and against the US media's propaganda machine, there wasn't much of a chance. Americans made a choice from two poor choices, and 100 days later, we see the results. One hundred days of bumbling stupidity. Read the lists for yourself.

In Obama's defense, it's difficult to do everything under a microscope, whether you're an idiot or not. I feel for him, as one feels for a lab rat being vivisected. It's a shame, having to operate under such scrutiny. But then, it's the life he wanted. Hopefully he won't lose the launch codes to America's nuclear missiles like Bill Clinton did. Then again, they're probably on Obama's supposedly-hackproof Blackberry, which probably means that the Chinese already have them.

There have been worse presidents, of course, other than George W. Bush and Bill Clinton.

• Vice President John Tyler (1841-1845) became president when William Harrison died of pneumonia after a month in office. Once in office, he abandoned all the principles of his campaign and his Whig party, opposing a national bank and defending the practice of slavery, and his entire cabinet resigned in disgust.
• Millard Fillmore (1850-1853) was not a much better Whig, supporting the passage of the Compromise of 1850 with the Southern states, enabling them to continue practicing slavery and buying a few more years of peace before the Civil War finally broke out.
• And of course James Buchanan (1857-1861) did nothing to stop the Southern states from seceding, did nothing to stop the spread of slavery in new states, and even encouraged the Supreme Court's Dred Scott decision, which allowed slavery to continue on a state-by-state basis.

So, America has done far worse than Barack Hussein Obama. He's a piker, compared to some. But the media continues to revere him, which of course only makes them look even more stupid.

Tonight, a media orgasm is scheduled to allow Obama to congratulate himself on surviving 100 days in office. It would be amusing to watch, but I'm doing something far more interesting and educational - I'm going to visit the Cleveland Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame. I expect it will be empty tonight while Cleveland's impoverished population is home, glued to their televisions, hanging onto their Dear Leader's every platitude. Me, I'll read the Cliff's Notes of tonight's propaganda later.

Immortalized on Google Street View

I was doing something unseemly my front yard the other weekend.

No, not that. Nor that. Really, I'm appalled that you would think such things.

Actually, I was digging a trench for a gray water line from my washing machine. The county would rather make me pay quite a lot of money to put in a drainfield, when I can just dump the water into the ditch in front. It's just soapy water. I paid to put in a culvert pipe last year, so that I no longer have a ditch. It's my culvert to drill into and connect the laundry drainpipe.

Anyway, I was digging the trench and laying the pipe, when a car passed by.

We get very few cars on our street. So this one was unusual for its very existence.

It was also unusual because it had a camera mounted on top, on a pole. It was a Google Street View car, taking pictures of our street. Of me, doing something not quite kosher.

I am immortalized now. Or will be, in a few weeks, when the picture shows up. Thankfully Google blurs faces these days.

How about some perspective on the flu deaths?

1347-1351 AD - The bubonic plague (a bacterium called yersinia pestis) kills roughly 75 million people worldwide, with a 30 to 75 percent mortality rate. It was a vicious infection of the lymph glands, with bulbous swellings of the lymph nodes ("buboes") on the armpits, groin and back, which turned necrotic and began decaying while the victim was still alive. Death was swift, usually occurring within five days of initial infection.

1918-1919 AD - The "Spanish flu" (viral strain Influenza A, subtype H1N1) kills up to 100 million people, with a 2.5 to 5 percent mortality rate. This type affected younger people more, by causing their immune systems to overreact and worsen the symptoms. Half of all the US soldiers who died in Europe during World War 1 died of this flu (about 50,000).

Now - The H1N1 virus is back. In Mexico, where it is worst, about 1995 people are suspected so far of having the illness, with 152 deaths. That's a mortality rate of 7.6 percent so far in Mexico, if the numbers are right. In the US, 64 cases are confirmed as of this moment, and no one has died of it yet.

In Black Death terms, the H1N1 virus is not much to worry about. In countries where health care is of better quality and is more readily available, it will affect very few people.

Still, my darling wife pointed out that if the government is making a big deal about it, then the numbers are far worse than the public knows. Fine, then. Bring it on. Even though I fly regularly, and airplanes are a prime vector for the spread of the disease, I am not concerned. Earthly organisms, other than scarlet fever (Streptococcus pyogenes) rarely affect me. In fact, a widespread pandemic may help society as a whole, by reducing some of the population and helping the remainder refocus on what is important, like food, clothing, shelter, family and friends, rather than being distracted by silliness like iPhones, celebrities and "American Idol."

So far, Obama's low-flying airplane has caused more heart attack deaths in New York City than the H1N1 virus has killed people in the US. Therefore all of the media's wailing about the H1N1 virus is a bit ridiculous.

I am already looking forward to next week's scheduled crisis. I'm tired of this one.

A rousing season finale for "Chuck"

What a fun season finale of "Chuck" THAT was!

• A crazy messed-up church wedding complete with a fire alarm and water downpour
• A riotous rendition of Styx's "Mr. Roboto"
• A SWAT team parachute assault through the skylights of the wedding church
• Steak knives and submachine guns
• A better beach wedding, though it was RUINED by the use of Slow Club's "Christmas TV" as the background (well, foreground) music - completely jangly and inappropriate for a wedding, even though the producers picked it for the lyrics
• The alleged "death" of the annoying pretty-boy Bryce Larkin, who always had that intense Charles Manson look about him
• A fun reference to "The Matrix" at the end, when Chuck says in amazement, "I know kung fu!"

I sure hope NBC doesn't cancel the show. But if they do, they ended it well.

Fight crime. Shoot back.

I was pleased to read that Israeli mercenaries fought off a pirate attack on an Italian cruise liner the other day, by hosing down the attacking speedboat with (gasp) actual gunfire. From pistols, no less.

Good for them, setting the example.

However, there's just no good replacement for a good heavy machine gun. Especially a .50-caliber Browning mounted on the railing, which would have shredded the pirates' speedboat into tiny little splinters. Freighters in the South China Sea have fought off pirates with .50-caliber machineguns in the past few years, with little or no fanfare. (Quad-mount Fifties were used on halftrack trucks in World War 2 Europe, to chop down trees where snipers were hiding. If a Fifty can shred a mature spruce or pine tree, it can vaporize a boat.)

Even a pistol, though, makes silly little gadgets like these just seem . . . well, silly. Why go out of your way NOT to kill pirates? Kill as many of them as you can. Eventually they will run out of pirates before you run out of ammo.

Of course, the insurance companies make a ton of money on piracy, because they charge an extra $40,000 or more on each trip through the Gulf of Aden. Multiply that by 20,000 trips a year, and that's a lot of money. More than enough to offset a few million-dollar ransoms.

The Israelis, I'm sure, pissed off the insurance companies by upsetting the nice little symbiosis the insurers have going with the pirates.

I hope the Israelis inspire others to piss off a lot more people. Especially pirates.

Yes, "Perpetual Change"

This 1971 gem is totally, completely stuck in my head today. In 32-track digital stereo. I don't need an iPod - it's built in.

And it will Not. Shut. Off.

Especially the bit from 5:14 to 6:29. Sigh.

I see the cold mist in the night
And watch the hills roll out of sight.
I watch in ev'ry single way,
Inside out, outside in, ev'ry day.

The sun can warm the coldest dawn
And move the movement on the lawn.
I learn in ev'ry single day,
Inside out, outside in, ev'ry way.

And there you are,
Making it up but you're sure that it is a star,
And boy you'll see
It's an illusion shining down in front of me,
And then you'll say
Even in time we shall control the day,
When what you'll see
Deep inside the day's controlling you and me.

And one peculiar point I see,
As one of many ones of me.
As truth is gathered, I rearrange,
Inside out, outside in, inside out, outside in,
Perpetual change.

And there you are,
Saying we have the moon, so now the stars,
When all you seeIs near disaster gazing down on you and me,
And there you're standing,
Saying we have the whole world in our hands,
When all you'll see,
Deep inside the world's controlling you and me.
You'll see perpetual change.
You'll see perpetual change.

And there you are,
Making it up but you're sure that it is a star,
And boy you'll see
It's an illusion shining down in front of me,
And then you'll say
Even in time we shall control the day,
When what you'll see
Deep inside the day's controlling you and me.
As mist and sun are both the same,
We look on as pawns of their game.
They move to testify the day,
Inside out, outside in, inside out, outside in,
All of the way.

What to wear to the grocery store

The Cleveland neighborhood where I work is fairly rough.

As evidenced by the huge security guard in his uniform, bulletproof vest and Glock .40-caliber pistol, standing at the cash registers with the bag boys, watching all the shoppers like a hawk.

It made me miss my vest and weapon. ;-)

But I got out of there with my groceries and my skin intact.

Thomas Dolby, "Airhead"

I would kill to see Thomas in concert. He still plays various places in the U.S. He founded and ran a software company, Headspace, in 1993, which became Beatnik, now making software synthesizers for cellphones. Then he founded Retro Ringtones in 2002, which manages ringtone portfolios for wireless providers. The polyphonic version of the Nokia ringtone is his fault. I hate that tune.

He also runs a nice website and blog. Thankfully, he's doing music again. He's releasing a new album this year. I will have to buy it.

I always liked this tune from his "Aliens Ate My Buick" album. It has a nice funky beat and funny lyrics.



I buy her all the right clothes
and pretty jewels to wear
my friends say she's a dumb blonde
but they don't know she dyes her hair

she thinks the fighting in Central America's easily solved
but what to wear to Bel-Air premieres
is a problem she could never resolve

she's an airhead
stungun and mace - Kharmann Ghia plates say "Lost in Space"
she's an airhead
thousands in trust - cusp Aquarius - get serious
she's an airhead
tinted contacts don't change the fact that black is black
she's an airhead
and while I'm impressed with the length of those leg
sshe's not an intellectual giant

she'd like to model or maybe act
or start a magazine
before she signs any contracts
I think she better learn to read
but in her dreams she's the queen of the fashion regime
you ask me do I love you...does the pope live in the woods?
quod erat demonstrandum, baby. (ooo you speak French!)

she's an airhead
stungun and mace - Kharmann Ghia plates say "Lost in Space"
she's an airhead
thousands in trust - cusp Aquarius - get serious
she's an airhead
tinted contacts don't change the fact that black is black
she's an airheadand while I'm impressed with the size of her chest
she's not an intellectual giant

sweet and low and oh-so
little Ms. Door Ajar
safe sex and fishnets
and could you walk me to my car (oh, thank you)
she's losing faith in a world that is out of control
she's gonna nix politics, she's taking up volleyball! volleyball! why?

she's an airhead
stungun and mace - Kharmann Ghia plates say "Lost in Space"
she's an airhead
thousands in trust - cusp Aquarius - get serious
she's an airhead
and now the time's come for the end of my song, don't get me wrong
if she's an airhead it has to be said
it was men made her that way
it was us made her that way
it was us made her that way!

A missing link is found!

A 23-million-year-old proto-seal fossil has been found in northern Canada. Scientists named the fossil Puijila darwini. It is the oldest seal ancestor found to date. It could walk on land with its webbed feet, and resembles an otter.

Scientists call it a missing link between land-dwelling and water-dwelling mammals. Charles Darwin had proposed that land-dwelling mammals would naturally evolve into a freshwater-dwelling form on their way to evolving into a saltwater-dwelling form, and the fossil seems to bear out that hypothesis.

I am so relieved. Now I can sleep at night.

I was more out-of-place than usual

I stopped at a fast-food restaurant on the way home from work the other day, in a relatively rough section of town. I had been through the drive-through there before, but I had never gone inside.

That day, I went inside, and immediately realized that I shouldn't have.

I was the only entity of my kind there. All of the other people there were alike, but quite different from me. I felt even more alien than I usually do.

It was quite uncomfortable. Even with the burly restaurant security guard standing at the counter with his gun in his holster (another indicator of the neighborhood's decay), I did not feel safe.

To turn and leave would invite attack. The guard was there to protect the restaurant and its employees, not necessarily me. So I stayed, and waited my turn, and was calm and polite. The lady behind the counter was very kind and smiling, even though the men around me and behind me were resentful, their eyes boring into me.

I had not felt such a prickly atmosphere since I passed through a Blackfoot Indian town in Montana, many years ago. I was alone there as well, and I was not welcome. There, I kept going.

I escaped the restaurant with my food, even though two younger males attempted to get my attention as I walked out the door. I kept walking, and they did not follow.

I could always start bringing a weapon with me when I go out in Cleveland, but it would be simpler just to avoid the rough areas. Unfortunately I am living and working in such an area.

Sigh.

The Thompson Twins, "Hold Me Now"

I miss the Twins. They were such a unique force in 80s synthpop. Nobody else sounded like them. Every album was a trove of musical gems. Well, maybe not their older stuff. ;-)

An interesting idea about culture

I ran across an interesting graphic on another blog today.



I like the skulls. Very pretty. But what I thought was interesting was the statement that "your cultura is everything."

Assuming that "cultura" means "culture" as in "the set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterizes an institution, organization or group," then I would disagree.

Shared attitudes, values, goals and practices is NOT everything. I would argue that in fact, that they are not much of anything. Such identifiers often serve to set one apart from others. They help to segregate people, and can prevent them from learning about other people, assimilating, or cooperating with another group, especially a group that is larger than one's own.

Culture is fine to appreciate, to value privately, to share with one's own cultural group. But to wear it proudly amid other cultural groups, to use it as a shield against others, to let it color your thought process and filter your beliefs of what is acceptable and what is not, only helps to create conflict, I think. Conformity and assimilation is ultimately a better model.

I say this as an observer, as one who has to move among many socioeconomic strata in my work. To flaunt one's own culture in the face of another impedes communication, cooperation, and even imperils your own safety. It's simply rude.

It's fine to remember who you are and where you came from, and it's fine to believe that your own cultural practices or history are better than others. But to let those things define you is ultimately very limiting, and even dangerous.

To achieve one's own individual potential, one must often leave culture behind.

So I think.

Gary Numan, "Fold"

This tune is one of the more memorable ones of Gary's darkwave period (still in progress). I would argue that most of the "Jagged" album consists of variations on two or three themes. This one stands on its own the best.

Reptilian residents in the yard

I was standing next to the garden shed, admiring my darling wife's handiwork, with a large yucca tree brushing up against my head.

Then I stepped back and realized that it wasn't me moving the yucca, it was this guy.

He is a large Cuban tree frog (Osteopilus septentrionalis). He was pretty relaxed in his little hammock. He was the length of a human hand.

This is the burrow of a gopher tortoise (Gopherus polyphemus) who lives on our vacant lot. Gopher tortoises usually require an acre of space each, and they dig multiple burrows and move between them periodically. They suffer from an ongoing loss of habitat, and they are an endangered species. We are fortunate in that we have not one, not two, but three gopher tortoises living on our lot . . . a large old female who must be at least 50 years old, a younger, smaller male in his 20s, and a tiny female who must be less than five years old.

This is the younger male. He was most irritated that I was mowing near him. He came out on the apron of his burrow and stood guard. He glared at me the whole time.

A very convenient suicide

Forty-one-year-old David Kellerman, acting Chief Financial Officer of the Federal Housing Financing Agency (Freddie Mac) was found dead today. Apparently he had hung himself in the basement of his home in Reston, Virginia.

I used to work in Reston, Virginia. But that's not my point.

My point is, Kellerman had some large bonuses due him. He had a big house, a loving family, and everything going for him as CFO of a giant bankrupt quasi-governmental agency that, along with fellow bankrupt agency Fannie Mae, had received $60 billion in government bailout funds.

Yes, his stock in Freddie Mac was nearly worthless, and that would be a motivation for suicide. And he was also not immune from potential lawsuits against Freddie Mac over its massive financial losses. But as a 16-year veteran of Freddie Mac, he also was in a position to know where all the bodies were buried. (Figuratively and perhaps literally.)

More than enough motivation for someone else to help him meet his untimely end.

It's always suspicious when someone at the epicenter of an ongoing financial scandal "commits suicide."

It will be interesting to see if my suspicions are borne out by facts as they come to light. If they ever come to light. ;-)

Ben Harper, "Steal My Kisses"

I like the rolling, easy groove, the laid-back rhythm guitar, and the oddball vocal harmonies in this tune.

Unfortunately, Mr. Harper needs a fashion consultant. And perhaps some lessons in bipedal locomotion, since apparently he's new at it.

Dr. Edgar Mitchell of Apollo 14 reminds you again that aliens exist

Captain-Doctor Edgar Mitchell, lunar module pilot on the Apollo 14 mission in 1971, said again yesterday in a speech at the National Press Club that alien life exists on this planet, and that various governments are concealing that fact.

(wink)

Good for him. It's nice that he cares. Of course, it won't do him any good. The governments that won't discuss alien activity here are the same governments that feel quite threatened when said aliens demonstrate technology and capabilities that far outstrip those of said government.

The US government relies on the conclusion of the US Air Force's Project Blue Book, which terminated in 1969 with the judgment that "no UFO reported, investigated, and evaluated by the Air Force has ever given any indication of threat to our national security." Which, of course, does not say that UFOs or aliens do not exist, but instead says only that they do not threaten "national security."

If you can't beat them, went the reasoning, ignore them.

Well, they can try. ;-)

Twenty Ell Bees?????

Leaping lachrymatories, Denise Zarrella on Channel 19 News referred to a twenty-pound block of marijuana that was mis-mailed to a Cleveland home as "twenty ell bees of marijuana." As in lbs, as in the abbreviation for "pounds."

I hope this was an instance of the local Cleveland dialect, and not a mindless (mis)reading of the script.

(Shudder)

You're damned no matter what you say

Two stories in the news today are related, presenting opposite choices with the same result.

Jackie Chan, the Hong Kong martial arts film star, spoke about cinematic censorship in a panel discussion with Chinese business leaders during the annual Boao Forum in Hainan, China. In his comments, he said, "I'm not sure if it's good to have freedom or not . . . I'm really confused now. If you're too free, you're like the way Hong Kong is now. It's very chaotic. Taiwan is also chaotic . . . I'm gradually beginning to feel that we Chinese need to be controlled. If we're not being controlled, we'll just do what we want."

He's taking heat for those comments from Hong Kong politicians now. But I can understand why he said what he said. Even though he spoke out vehemently against the 1989 Tianamen Square massacre in Beijing, he has grown quiet about China's human rights abuses in recent years, while at the same time his popularity has grown in mainland China. It's not a coincidence. Jackie knows which side his bread is buttered on. He's not going to deliberately antagonize the Chinese leaders who are in a position to make his life harder. He's more likely to say things that make life easier for him.

Carrie Prejean took the opposite tack, speaking her mind. Miss California Prejean was competing in the Miss USA beauty pageant on Sunday, when gossip nitwit Perez Hilton, moonlighting as a judge for the competition, asked Prejean how she felt about gay marriage.

Hilton shouldn't have asked the question if he, or the Miss USA judges or organizers, didn't want to hear the answer on the live television program. But to her credit, Prejean spoke honestly, even daringly, given that Perez Hilton is gay. "I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anybody out there, but that's how I was raised."

That answer was the wrong answer, and it cost her the Miss USA crown, Prejean said later as first-runner-up, but she didn't regret it.

I admire her bravery and her honesty in the face of public opprobrium. However, I think it's perfectly acceptable to tell people whatever they want to hear, if they have the power to grant you or deny you something you want. Jackie Chan chose that route, and he is catching flak from people who decry his knuckling under to the powers-that-be. Prejean chose the other route, and she is catching flak from people who decry her honesty.

You're damned no matter what you say. So whatever you say, you have to be able to look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow and feel good about it. The consequences of what you said are less important.

There's always a loudmouth in every crowd

There's always a loudmouth in every crowd. Today he was on my bus from the airport parking lot. Tall, tanned, boorish, like a gladhanding, golf-playing salesman. Which perhaps he was.

"Anyone here from Denver?" he addressed the bus at large.

No one looked at him.

"I'm going to Denver today. I heard they just got 2 inches of snow in the city, and 61 inches of snow in the foothills."

"Yeah, that's why we live here," muttered a wag in the back of the bus.

"I'm from Naples," Mr. Loudmouth plowed on. "But I moved from Denver in 2007. In 2007, we had three snowstorms in three weeks of 30 inches each."

No one answered him.

I kept silent. I lived in Denver for decades. I have seen my share of snow. That's one reason I moved to the jungle. Another reason was the crime. Too many untermenschen in Denver, shooting each other and the occasional innocent bystander. I was tired of feeling like I had to carry a weapon everywhere I went. (Now I carry one just because I feel like it. It's a totally different mindset.)

I didn't want to bond with Mr. Loudmouth in any way, so I kept silent and thought my thoughts. I'm sure that's what everyone else was doing too.

Mr. Loudmouth got the message, and shut up. Thankfully.

The Kings of Convenience, "I Don't Know What I Can Save You From," Röyksopp Remix

This song, a few years old now, suddenly sprang into my head and will NOT let go today. I like the pulsating beat, the fat bass synthesizer, the gentle guitar and his soft voice.

I'm going to have to listen to some Carpenters, or maybe Megadeth, to dispel it.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends

As I gird myself to do battle yet again with the mighty brush mower, in a vain attempt to subjugate the inimitable forces of nature which do seek to vanquish all of my darling wife's attempts to bring order to chaos in our yard, the timeless words of William Shakespeare drift up from the depths of my crystalline memories...

Henry V, Act III, Scene I:
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon;
let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

Twitter is for losers? Facebook makes you stupid?

Oh yes. USA Today says so. It must be true!

http://www.usatoday.com/life/lifestyle/2009-04-14-twitter-relationships_N.htm


http://www.usatoday.com/tech/hotsites/2009-04-13-facebook-grades_N.htm

Although really, I think it's just a symptom of people letting electronic relationships replace real relationships. They think they're more "connected," but they're not. It's not a substitute of any kind. I like to think that more and more people are figuring that out, but even as droves of people leave electronic life behind, more of them sink into it.

And yes, it IS ironic that I'm writing about this, and you're reading it, and it is STILL not a substitute for a real interpersonal relationship. ;-)

I write because I like to write. Everything else is just icing on the cake.

Nuno Bettencourt of Extreme, "Midnight Express"

The band Extreme sometimes gets written off as one of those forgotten 80s and 90s hair bands. That would be a mistake. They are one of the most talented rock bands, in terms of instrumental prowess, memorable hooks, and cerebral lyrics.

And guitarist Nuno Bettencourt is a big part of their instrumental prowess. Here, Bettencourt romps through his signature guitar instrumental, "Midnight Express," at the Hard Rock Cafe. I chose this recording because of its low-noise stereo and excellent production quality. The first minute is just noodling, I think; the actual song begins at 1:00.



I did not realize they released new material in 2008. I will have to buy it. It might make me forget how horribly misrepresentative of their music their 1990 #1 Billboard hit, "More Than Words," really was. (Shudder.)

My favorite scene from "The Sound of Music"...

...has been irrevocably sullied.


I laughed out loud. The person who posted it is probably palsied, and cut off the last part. The nun on the right says, "Hey, I didn't start this war, but it's on!"

Very amusing.

Giving a bad name to the term "public servant"

Meet James Kauchis, a county employee who's whining that he missed his lunch break while his office was under lockdown as Jiverly Voong killed 13 people down the street in Binghamton, New York a few weeks ago.

I hope they find a reason to can Mr. Kauchis, who is an accounting clerk. I'm sure they can blame it on declining property tax revenues and budget-cutting. I'm sure he'll understand. (evil grin)

The word of the day is "crenellated"

"Crenellated" describes the rectangular upper edge of a castle's wall, where archers can fire arrows through the gaps in the wall, or where soldiers can pour boiling oil down upon the enemy laying siege to the castle.

Oh, for the good old days.

Anyway, "crenellated" also describes large patches of my skin, where I have a scorching case of poison ivy. For decades, I never contracted poison ivy, mainly because I lived in areas of the world where that pernicious, detestable plant does not grow.

Sadly, it proliferates in the jungle, particularly on the empty lot behind our house.

I was trying to mow a clear path down the lot line, to prevent the tangling vines from reaching up into our trees, or at least to slow them down. Some clumps were too big to mow over, so I went around them. I also pulled some of them down which were strangling the pine trees.

And now I am paying the price.

I simply must get a flamethrower.

A plausible cause for the recent shootings?

In the past month or so, there have been a spate of shootings that have been well-publicized by the media.

• January 27: Ervin Lupoe, 40, killed his wife, their five children and himself in Los Angeles, CA. He called a television station and told them he was going to murder his family. Authorities believe he was despondent over he and his wife both losing their jobs as X-ray technicians at Kaiser Permanente.
• March 5: Davon Crawford, 33, killed his wife, his sister-in-law and three of the sister-in-law's young children, and wounded another child in Cleveland, OH before shooting himself to death when police cornered him. He had been convicted and served time for manslaughter and felonious assault, but had stayed clean and off of drugs until the end of his most recent parole in 2008. His motives for the murders are unknown.
• March 10: Michael McLendon, in his 30s, went on a shooting spree through the towns of Kinston, Samson and Geneva, AL, killing five family members, five others, and finally himself at the metal plant where he once worked. Authorities do not know his motives.
• March 20: Robert Stewart, 45, entered a nursing home in Carthage, NC and opened fire, killing 7 residents and a nurse. Stewart was shot and arrested before he could commit suicide. He said he "does not remember anything" about the shooting.
• March 21, 2009: Lovelle Mixon, 26, shot and killed four Oakland, CA, police officers after they stopped him for a traffic violation. Mixon, who had a long criminal record, was wanted on a no-bail parole violation for assault with a deadly weapon, and did not want to go back to jail. SWAT officers killed him shortly afterward.
• March 29, 2009: Devan Kalathat, 42, opened fire on his own family at a housewarming party. He shot and wounded his wife, and killed his two children and three other relatives, then killed himself in an upscale neighbourhood of Santa Clara, California. Authorities do not know why the Yahoo.com software engineer went on his rampage.
• April 3: Jiverly Voong, 41, a Vietnamese immigrant, killed 13 people, wounded 26, and killed himself after a hostage standoff at the American Civic Association in Binghamton, New York. Authorities say he was paranoid and depressed after losing his job at the Shop-Vac plant in Binghamton.
• April 4, 2009: 23 year-old white supremacist Richard Poplawsk fired on several Pittsburgh PA police officers who responded to Poplawsk's mother's domestic disturbance call, killing three of them. He was shot multiple times and arrested after a four-hour standoff. He exhibited signs of paranoia and was upset about losing his job.

Some media outlets blame the bad economy. Others blame the availability of guns in the United States.

An equally plausible explanation would be the deliberate incitement of violence by agents provocateurs in the employ of the federal government.

The Obama administration is wary of antagonizing the majority of Americans who own guns, and therefore has backed off of attempting to pass new anti-gun legislation for the moment.

But what better way to garner public support for new anti-gun measures, than to present the public with a new mass shooting every day? After a few months of giddy news coverage of shooting after shooting (remember, "if it bleeds, it leads" on the news), perhaps the public would become more amenable to such new (if unnecessary) legislation. Or so perhaps the Obama administration is thinking.

It would be interesting to run a trace of credit card activity by government agents, and to identify any patterns that emerge. For example, wouldn't it be interesting if the same agent, or agents, were in the same place at the same time as each of these shootings?

In the 1950s and 1960s, during the heyday of the CIA's MKULTRA program, usually an agent had to be in close proximity to his target, to drug him, hypnotize him, subliminally program him or otherwise coerce him into performing the desired behavior, such as an assassination or a suicide.

I would expect that the methods have improved a lot in the past 50 years. I doubt that it's necessary to even be in the same city with the target now, in order to program him. Perhaps they can do it from a distance, or even from orbit. Delivery mechanisms could range from food additives to aerosols to cellphone transmissions to internet pop-up ads. A simple telephone conversation, coupled with the simultaneous application of the correct ultrasonic or subsonic tonal frequencies, could achieve the required mental state in the target for him to commit his massacre. Or a pop-up ad in a web browser could display a series of subliminal images designed to trigger a killing rage. The possibilities are limitless.

And the targets, in these cases, don't need to be programmed to kill a particular person, as was often the goal for the CIA. The target needs only to kill. A lot.

That's an easily-achieved goal, when the target is already preconditioned through job-related stress, family problems, or run-of-the-mill paranoia.

You're probably thinking, "that couldn't happen here." But it already happens every day in the Middle East, where terrorists program people to commit murder, using slow, clumsy methods like religious inculcation.

One could presume that the United States government would have much more refined, powerful methods at its disposal to create the desired behaviors in certain people, in order to use the results to achieve its own political ends.

I would continue, but a pop-up ad has interrupted my train of thought.

Creepy stories

A friend of mine was telling me about her finger getting swollen. She didn't remember damaging it or being bitten, but after a week (!) she went to the doctor, who cut it open to relieve the swelling... and she swears that half a dozen baby spiders crawled out.

I looked it up on snopes.com, which insists that stories like that about spiders are untrue, while allowing that other insects DO lay their eggs in humans.

If she is telling the truth, then perhaps the animals she saw were not spiders, but something else.

In the same conversation, she mentioned a customer who walked into her workplace with a bandage over his arm. The bandage was not quite big enough to cover the gaping wound he had suffered as a result of flesh-eating bacteria. He apologized for his appearance, she said. She said she could see the bone of his arm. I am not particularly surprised at that story... there are many old people in the jungle, and a significant number of them are surprisingly decrepit, especially those suffering from advanced infections. One wonders how they can even be vertical, in their condition.

Interesting. I am trying to remember how much she had had to drink during this conversation. Not very much, I think. Perhaps she is simply fibbing for fun.

I don't know what to think. But her stories were... um... interesting, to say the least.

The "90 percent of illegal Mexican guns come from the US" myth

Remember a few weeks ago when US Attorney General Eric Holder was arguing for tougher anti-gun laws in the US, because crime is so rampant in Mexico? He was trying to base his argument on a statistic that 90 percent of the guns found at crime scenes in Mexico come from the United States, and therefore the US should restrict the sale of guns within its borders, to reduce arms smuggling to Mexico.

It was a ridiculous argument. It's the same thing as saying that cars stolen in California keep winding up in Mexico, so we should reduce the sale of cars to Californians.

His ridiculous argument was also based on a misreported statistic put out by Assistant Director William Hoover of the US Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (BATFE) in testimony to the US House of Representatives' Foreign Affairs Committee back in February 2008, when he said that 90 to 95 percent of guns found at Mexican crime scenes were traced to the United States. This statistic was repeated by Acting Director Michael Sullivan of the US later last year, as reported by the Associated Press.

That wasn't true, of course, and Hoover's incorrect statement was quickly clarified the next day by a BATFE spokeswoman.

What Hoover meant to say was, ninety percent of the guns recovered at Mexican crime scenes in 2007 and 2008 which were successfully traced came from the US.

29,000 guns were recovered at crime scenes in Mexico in 2007-2007.
11,000 of those guns were submitted for tracing.
Around 5,683 of those guns were successfully traced.
Exactly 5,114 guns out of those 29,000 which were recovered at Mexican crime scenes in 2007-2008 came from the United States.

That's 17.6 percent of all the guns recovered at Mexican crime scenes in 2007-2008, for the mathematically challenged like Attorney General Holder.

(According to CNN's Lou Dobbs, the Mexican government refused to provide serial numbers for the alleged US-sourced weapons, which makes him wonder if the Mexican government is lying about the number of US guns there actually are in Mexico.)

The statistic that Holder used, and which the pliant media eagerly repeated ad nauseam, was 5,114 guns proven to be from the United States, divided by 5,683 successfully traced. THAT is 90 percent.

But the fact remains that 82.4 percent of the guns recovered at Mexican crime scenes in 2007-2008 did NOT come from the United States. They came from Central and South America, and Russia, and China, and other places. Often by the boatload.

That doesn't matter to Attorney General Holder, or to his boss, Barack Obama. They would be happy to reduce or eliminate private gun ownership in the United States.

And they will use whatever arguments they can use to justify it. Even if they are lies.

Of course, now the Obama administration is backing away from gun bans. They say. For now.

(Next - a very plausible reason for the upswing in reported shooting sprees lately. And it has nothing to do with the economy.)

I hope I hate my new phone a bit less

As is my habit when I need to buy something, I studied and researched the current crop of cellphones. As usual, I was annoyed with the poor state of technology in the US market for my carrier. Many phones lack basic Wi-Fi capability. Very few of them offer GSM capability for overseas use. And there are no bulletproof "brick" phones anymore... they are either flip phones or touch-screen, and touch-screens are too fragile and finicky for my purposes. Sigh.

As attracted as I am to Windows Mobile devices, I can't deal with the lousy battery life. And I already have a Windows Mobile device. It just isn't a phone. But that's what I use to watch Tivo programs on the plane and to surf at Wi-Fi hotspots. That's good enough. I bought it for $50 at a garage sale. It does what I need it to do.

As much as it would be nice to get email on my phone, I don't want to be that connected. I work on a computer all day, every day. That's all the email I need. I certainly don't want it to follow me wherever I go. Email is to be ignored when I feel like it.

As much as it would be nice to be able to view documents on my phone, I don't need to do that. If I look, I'd need to edit. And if I edit, I'd need a much better interface than a phone.

I don't need a music player. I have a very nice one that is tiny, runs on a single AA battery for a week straight, and holds 50 CDs of music. That's good enough for me.

I DO need:

• A phone that I can dial with one tentacle.
• A phone that has a speakerphone function. I often need to put it down and talk while I work on something.
• A phone that has a 2.5mm earpiece jack. I don't believe in Bluetooth devices. Everyone I know who has one, always has their earpiece battery go dead at the worst time. Ergo, more batteries equal less functionality. I'll deal with a wire, thank you. And I have a terrific Plantronics wired earpiece already, which sounds better than my existing phone itself.
• A phone that has excellent call quality.
• A phone that runs forever on a single charge.
• A phone that has a low Specific Absorption Rate (SAR rating) for its radiation output.

So I chose the Nokia 6205. Boring, uninspiring, minimalist, and exactly what I need.

Heartbeats

I was watching an episode of "Bones" that I had missed: "The Salt In The Wounds." At the melancholy end, a song played in the background which seemed so familiar, yet I couldn't put my tentacle on it.

It was "Heartbeats," played on the guitar by a man named Jose Gonzalez.

It was beautiful, though it was nearly unrecognizable to me, so different was it from the original. All I had to go on was the lyrics. The melody is the same, to be sure, but the context was completely different - guitar instead of synthesizer; soft male voice instead of tortured female voice.

This is a cover of "Heartbeats" by Jose Gonzalez. Sony used this version in a commercial for the Bravia line of televisions. They filmed the commercial in San Francisco, where they threw 250,000 colorful superballs down a hill. Some of the commercial's scenes are used in this video.


This is the original "Heartbeats" by the Swedish band The Knife.


One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away
Both under influence
We had divine sense
To know what to say
Mind is a razorblade
To call for hands of above to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, no
One night of magic rush
The start - a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief
Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love
To call for hands of above to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, no
To call for hands of above to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, oh
And you, you knew the hand of a devil
And you kept us awake with wolves teeth
Sharing different heartbeats in one night
To call for hands of above to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, no
To call for hands of above to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough for me, oh

Believe in Cleveland!

There is a huge banner on the side of a run-down building on the east side of downtown Cleveland, where I am working. It says:

Believe in Cleveland! Help Cleveland. Help Yourself.

I think it's connected to this website: http://www.believeincleveland.com/.

I applaud the sentiment. But I think it also reflects just how challenged this Rust Belt city is. Cleveland is steadily shrinking, as shown by this graphic from www.cleveland.com/census.

The local economy slumped when heavy industry withered in the 1960s and 1970s. Cleveland has tried valiantly to shift into a service economy, but that has not mitigated the population decline much. As a reminder of all the people who have moved away, the city has a highway system that is well-developed, yet there are relatively few people on those highways. Rush hour is not bad at all, compared to other cities like Chicago or Denver.

Many of the people who are still here in the downtown area seem somewhat lost, aimless, wandering. I see many people walking on the street, and not many cars. I see women standing outside office buildings, taking a smoke break. (I would argue that the number of American women who smoke has been dropping continuously in the past twenty years, but you would not know it here in this city.)

I am used to working in booming cities, or in small rural company towns. It is an unusual experience for me to work in an elderly post-industrial city.

I will have to take pictures.

I don't think his date was going well

I was watching a young couple eating at Chipotle. He was blathering; she was eating and not saying anything... not even looking at him much. I got the sense that it was a first date.

And it wasn't going well.

I watched them leave together. They got into the same car, with her driving.

I revised my initial evaluation. They had been together for awhile, and she was tired of him.

Then again, I was probably completely wrong about the whole thing.

The passing of "E.R."

Much has been written lately about the end of the television series "E.R."

It ran for 15 years, which was probably only a decade longer than would have otherwise been appropriate.

I never watched it, myself. I tend to avoid lawyer dramas and medical dramas. Dreadfully dull genres, in my opinion. I'll watch comedies like "Scrubs" or dramedies like "Boston Legal," but stuff like "E.R." or "Grey's Anatomy" never sully the phosphors on my antique video equipment.

I did see the last five minutes of the final episode of "E.R." though. Everyone stood around and talked about cases... ordered pizza... and then the camera slowly reverse-zoomed away from the hospital entrance to a point across the street.

Yay. It's over.

The one thing I did notice was that Abraham Benrubi was in it. I have not really seen him in anything since "Parker Lewis Can't Lose" back in the early 1990s. I liked him in that role. In "E.R." he was bigger and much grayer. Shockingly gray.

It was interesting to see.

Reunion, "Life Is a Rock"

This song has been stuck in my head for most of the last week.

Oddly enough, there is a television show called "Life On Mars." I ignored it because (seemingly) it was not about life on Mars, but about life as a police officer in 1973. I think. It only ran for seventeen episodes and was canceled, but I caught the last episode last night. And at the beginning of that episode, the protagonist's clock radio awakened him... to this very tune.

It was surreal. As was the episode that I watched. I liked it, sort of, but it was very disjointed and dreamlike, which was the point - the whole series was a jumbled dream, dreamed by an astronaut on his way to Mars in cryosleep. At least the lovely Gretchen Mol was in it. I seldom see her in anything.




B.B. Bumble and the Stingers;Martha Hooper; Ray Charles Singers
Lonnie Mac & Twangin’ Eddie;Here’s my ring: we’re goin’ steady.
Take it easy; take me higher; Liar, liar, house on fire;
Loco-motion; Poco Pashion; Deeper Purple; Satisfaction;
Baby, baby; gotta, gotta; gimme, gimme; gettin’ hotter;
Sammy’s cookin’; Lesley’s Gorey; Ritchie Valens; End of story.
Mahavishnu; Fujiyama;Karma Sutra; Rahma Lama;
Richard Perry; Spector;Barry Righteous; Archies; Nillson, Harry;
Shimmy, shimmy, coco-bop And Fats is back and finger-poppin’;

Life is a rock, but the radio rolled me! Gotta turn it up louder, so my DJ told me! (Whoop! Whoop!)
Life is a rock, but the radio rolled me! (Life is a rock; life is a rock.) At the end of my rainbow lies a golden oldie.

FM/AM; hits are clickin’ While the clock is tock-a-tickin’;
Friends and Romans: salutations; Brenda and the Tabulations;
Carly Simon; I behold her; Rolling Stoning; centerfolder;
Johnny Cash and Johnny Rivers; Can’t stop now - I’ve got the shivers;
Mungo Jerry;Peter-peter, Paul and Paul and Mary-mary;
Dr. John; the nightly tripper;Doris Day and Jack the Ripper;
Gotta go soon; gotta swelter; Leon Russel; Gimme Shelter;
Miracles in smokey places; Slide guitars and Fender basses;
Mushroom omelet; Bonnie Bramlett;Wilson Pickett; Stomp it – kick it;

Life is a rock, but the radio-Life is a rock, but the radio… Whoooo!(Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!)(Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!)

Arthur Janov; Primal Scream;Hawkins, Jay and Dale and Ronnie;
Kookla, Fran, and Norman Okla; Denver, John, and Osmond, Donnie;
JJ Cale and ZZ Top and LL Bean and DD Dinah;
David Bowie, Steely Dan, and Sing me proud; Oh, CC Rider;
Edgar Winter; Joanie Summers; Ides of March and Johnny Thunder;
Eric Clapton; pedal wah-wah; Steven Foster;Do-da, do-da;
Good Vibrations; Help Me Rhonda; Surfer Girl and Little Honda;
Tighter, tighter; Honey, honey; Sugar, Sugar; Yummy, yummy;
CBS and Warner Brothers, RCA and all the others;

Life is a rock, but the radio rolled me!Gotta turn it up louder, so my DJ told me! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
Life is a rock, but the radio rolled me! (Life is a rock.) At the end of my rainbow lies a golden oldie.

Listen! Remember! They’re playin’ our song.

Rocket; socket; Alan Freed me; Murray Kaufman tried to lead me;
Fish and swim and Boston monkey;Make it bad and play it FUNKY!


Freddie King and Albert King and BB King and frolicking…
Get it on; **************** lordy; Yellin’ hearty!
There’s a perfect **********; words of Randy Newman;
One, two, three; so ********** please, I need a breather!
Tito Fuente; *********** Cuba ********;*************************** brass!
Whoooo! California; ******; Atlanta;New York City; Transylvania;*************************;*************** and ***; oh, yea-a-a-a-ah, YEAH!

A very annoying weekend

This weekend was most annoying....

• I was delayed getting home.
• I rented a brush mower, which promptly broke. The technician came to fix it, and it broke again as soon as he left.
• I tried to get a new phone, and after 45 minutes of waiting in the store, I moved up from #5 to #3 on the wait list, and decided I didn't need to waste any more time. So I still don't have a reliable phone.

But, some nice things happened...

• We went for a nice walk on the beach, and saw some huge ghost crabs mating, and my darling wife rescued a "sea hare" (a big sea slug) which had washed up on the shore.
• We got some nice plantation blinds for the house, and I put up most of them.
• I put down some heavy-duty termiticide so our home is super-protected, especially since one of our neighbors has been hit with termites.

I just wish I could get more sleep.

Gary Numan, "A Dream of Siam" featuring Pino Palladino

I think one of the beautiful things about synthesizers is not that they can imitate natural sounds and instruments, but that they can create sounds that don't exist in nature. I like un-natural sounds.

The indomitable bassist Pino Palladino provides the groundwork for this tune. He is playing a fretless bass, which allows him to slide gracefully, dreamily, from one note to the next, without frets to impose a rigid adherence to the 12-tone diatonic scale. This is not an easy bass line to play. I know. I've tried.



You and me are old
You and me are young
You and me have always
Let words go unsung

Nothing left to see
Nothing left to do
Nothing left to talk about

How I intrude
This impossible room
I still believe
That great American smile

Nothing's ever right
Nothing's ever wrong
But nothing's ever quite like
The stories and songs (nothing's ever)

Heroes always bleed
But heroes never cry
Heroes always get the
best girl and then die (nothing's ever)

How I intrude
This impossible dream
I still believe
That great American smile

I'm just not feeling inspired.

[Insert witty post here.]

A scene from "Wild Kingdom" at work, part 2

I like to follow up on things that I talk about, if there are new things to report. That's what a mission log does.

I like to think that it encourages readers to come back and read more. I'm probably wrong.

Earlier, I wrote about M and K fighting, the young cat beating up the old cat.

A Canadian consultant colleague confidentially clarified for me (there's today's dose of alliteration for you) that M is from an Eastern European country, here on a green card visa (Lawful Permanent Resident). That is the reason that M has only worked at this company since she arrived in this country. If she left this employer who is sponsoring her presence in this country, she would lose her visa and have to return home, and re-apply for another visa.

That means that M is relatively trapped in her job. That could be demoralizing over a long period of time, especially if she has learned all she can, or if she has progressed as far as she can go in this company. She is the expert in her little realm, and perhaps there is little room for growth or change. If that is making her unhappy, that could also contribute to her antagonism toward K. It may not be K at all that M is angry with; it may be anger at M's own situation and dissatisfaction with her lot in life.

I don't know. I am certainly not going to invite M's wrath by asking her. But it is an interesting scenario to consider.

It reminds me of why I am a consultant, a traveler. I work here for a little while, and then I go work over there for a little while, and then I'm off to another place soon after. I am always changing locations, changing responsibilities, changing the groups of people with whom I associate. I am always learning new things and growing. It keeps things interesting for me.

It also insulates me from office politics. A client once reprimanded me for asking a question where people could hear, a question which was fraught with danger because it implied that the project schedule was changing (which it was), and that people should know (which some already did). My client berated me for sowing dissension among the ranks. I pointed out that the people who overheard me were the core team, who already knew more than I did about the changing schedule, and I merely wished to have the same information that they already had. She insisted that my question was politically incorrect. Annoyed, I pointed out that when the project was over (or sooner, if she wished it), I would get to leave, and she, an employee, would have to stay [and deal with such stupid bullshit, I failed to add]. But she knew what I meant, and it made her very unhappy. I don't think she has forgiven me, even now. But my sentiment remains the same. I am never in one place long enough for office politics and personalities to matter to me. I come, I perform a task, I may make a friend or two, and I leave. I like it that way.

It also prevents me from staying long enough in one place for people to begin to notice just how alien I am.

Fuck you, USAirways

The first leg of my trip home tonight on USAirways was delayed because the inbound regional jet arrived 45 minutes late. We boarded, and they made us gate-check our bags because there was little overhead bin space on the 50-seat jet. When we arrived in Charlotte, North Carolina, there was only one baggage handler to unload the plane. It took him so long to unload the gate-checked bags that the pilot himself went down the outside stairs of the jetway and began bringing bags up to us. I appreciated his effort.

But it wasn't quick enough. Our connecting flight left without us, stranding several of us, though we sprinted across the airport to get to our gate. USAirways knew that there were several people from our flight trying to make the connection, and they didn't care. It was late in the evening, and I suppose the flight crew didn't want to make their day any longer than they had to. Certainly they didn't need to meet a connecting flight at the other end... they were going to bed after they got there. So they left without us.

Other airlines, like United, often will hold the plane if they know another connecting flight is late. They try to help the customers make their connecting flights.

Not USAirways.

Fuck them, then. I will find another airline. In fact, I will use this time while I am stranded in the Charlotte, North Carolina airport overnight, to book my future flights on ANY other airline except USAirways.

I think I will write a scathing letter to Doug Parker, CEO of USAirways, at 111 W. Rio Salado Parkway, Tempe, AZ 85281, phone 480-693-0800.

I like writing scathing letters. It's such a nice change from writing scathing blogposts.

A scene from "Wild Kingdom" at work

"Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" was one of the first nature series on television, sponsored by the Mutual of Omaha insurance company, and starring zoologist Marlin Perkins and his assistant, Jim Fowler. The show ran from 1962 to 1988. It was often unintentionally amusing, because Fowler would interact with dangerous wildlife, a la the late Steve Irwin, "the Crocodile Hunter," while Perkins narrated from a safe distance off-camera.

A new version of the show has been running on the Animal Planet cable channel since 2002, which I did not know. I don't watch Animal Planet. Shows like "Meerkat Manor" just annoy me. Discovery Military is more my speed.

A scene from "Wild Kingdom" played out at my desk yesterday, when my project manager K solicited input on a Software Requirements Specification document from one of the business analysts, M. They sat down together at my desk, which runs the length of a long wall, so there is enough space for three or four people to sit.

K is older, in her 60s. She has a wealth of experience and certifications as a Project Management Professional (PMP) and is Certified in Production and Inventory Management (CPIM). She is a project manager, but she is relatively new to the company and does not know how to operate the software that the project team is working on. Her experience carries her through, though, and she is responsible for managing the team's efforts on the project. Unfortunately, most of the team's workers, like M, are part-time on the project, borrowed from another manager in the IT department. So the workers like M do not report to K. (This makes it difficult, in my opinion, to manage people. If you do not have the ability to hire or fire them, then inherently they will respect you less.)

M is young, in her late 20s. She has a wealth of experience in the software that the team is working on, and has worked at the company for most of her short career. She is intimately familiar with the systems and the business. She has her PMP certification and she is very smart, but she is also impatient and intolerant. She's bright, she's tall, she's relatively attractive in a geeky way, and she knows it. She is the queen bee of the department, a lone flower among a cadre of techie males and a few older females.

K had scheduled a meeting, asking M for input on K's Software Requirements Specification. M began picking it apart, being (in my opinion) unnecessarily critical. As the two women argued over the document, it became clear to me that M's problem was not just with the document, it was with K herself. M resents K. She resents being forced to work for someone who doesn't know as much as M does about the software or the business. She resents K's experience and certifications. And she resent's K's mere presence, as a young cat resents the presence of an older, physically weaker cat. The young cat bares its fangs, hisses, and attempts to dominate the older cat through force, if it thinks it can get away with it.

K fought back, and their voices became quite loud. It was uncomfortable for me, sitting right next to them without a wall between us.

K managed to blunt M's attack by calling her on her behavior. "Do you WANT me to fail?" she asked. Then K turned conciliatory, asking M to further explain what was wrong with some of the statements in the document which M deemed to be too general or misleading. By alternately pushing back and then appealing to M's vanity, K managed to drag the meeting to an awkward conclusion.

I felt badly for K. And it made me worry that if M could behave in such a bitchy manner to K, a fellow female, even while being sweet and convivial with me, a male, then M's duplicitous fangs and claws easily could be turned against me.

I will have to be wary.

I hate my phone

Against my better judgment, I got an LG flip phone a few years ago. I really wanted an old Nokia "brick" phone, but Verizon does not use Nokia hardware.

Now my LG is dying. First it acted like it has the earpiece plugged in all the time, even when it isn't, so that the microphone and the speaker on the phone are deactivated. Now that behavior has stopped, and instead, the display is flashing on and off randomly, as if I had pushed a button on the phone to make the display light up.

I think it is possessed.

The last time I had a phone that was possessed (a Motorola - I will never, ever have another Motorola. Ever. EVER.), I performed an exorcism on it by driving over it repeatedly with my truck. This did not cause nearly as much damage as I wanted, because the truck's tires were too big and soft. So a sledgehammer finished the job.

I want to get a new phone this weekend, but the current crop of handsets leaves me just as cold as I felt the last time I went shopping for a phone.

I wish humans would evolve more quickly, and develop telepathy, to render cellphones obsolete. Or they could develop artificial telepathy, with transceivers wired into their skulls, injected like little grains of rice, similar to the chips that are being implanted in pets, and in soldiers, for identification.

Then again, perhaps it's best that they haven't. There is enough useless communication going on via cellphones right now. To enable more volume and frequency of messages via telepathy would just be making things worse. ;-)

Yello, "Bimbo"

This is one of my favorite tunes by the Swiss band Yello, consisting of Boris Blank (keyboards) and Dieter Meier (vocals). Dieter has such a goofy way of "singing."