You know you're in a bad neighborhood when...

...the parrot at the local pet store mimics the sound of car alarms.

Gimme more...more, I say

Besides the French Word of the Day, I'm toying with adding a Fiction Snip of the Day...a piece of on-the-spot clever writing done by yours truly. I got the idea from Scott Bateman's Damn Sketchbook. If you haven't checked out Scott, he's a clever comic artist. Go read him, and maybe you'll be amused.

French Word of the Day

Belle mort (bel mort): natural death

Bad news

My wife's uncle Jim died in his sleep sometime during the night. He was 63. He shall be missed.

I got shoe

If you have kids, or just are hyper-sensitive to being overwhelmed by trends, it's time to head to your nearest bunker because the next major kid trend is coming down the pipe from Japan...and it's a hamster.

Meet Hamtaro, the latest Japanese creation that has been built from what I only imagine as hours of painstaking research by top Japanese cuteologists. Hamtaro is a sweet hamster who is loved by his owner, the painfully precious fifth-grader Laura, and who is part of a secret hamster circle, known as the Ham-Hams.

The Ham-Hams, all a diverse bunch (one's a tough guy, one's a beat poet, one's a psychotic criminal picked to take part in a suicide run on a Nazi castle...oh, wait, that's Telly Savalas from "The Dirty Dozen"), have adventures, learn life lessons and have just a smashing time the only way hamsters can. There's even a map on the official U.S. Web site that explains all the complex relationships between the hamsters...as far as hamsters can have complex relationships.

Hamtaro's a huge hit in Japan, knocking off Pikachu as the top licensed character in Japan. It's the top-rated children's show in Tokyo and a movie based on the show came out last year and was a tremendous hit. And the now, the little rodent is invading the U.S. Payback, I suppose, for Hiroshima.

The beauty of the show, now being aired on the Cartoon Network, is you don't have to "catch them all," the marketing demand forced by the Pokemon P.R. troopers to kids who needed a complete set of Pokemon cards to keep up. Instead, it's a more viral approach. The show comes with a pseudo-language that the first set of viewers will instantly pick up and use on the playground. Other kids, eager not to be on the outside, will pick up on the hip lingo and take it with them to infect the next batch of unsuspecting kids. It'll spread like wildfire, just in time for all the products to be put on shelves only to be snatched up by hamster-crazed kids. (Apparently, you'll also need to know the words when the Game Boy version of the TV show appears soon.)

The one disturbing drawback: I can't find anything on the U.S. site that talks about how to care for a real-life hamster. Look, anything this cute and any fad with the potential to grow to enormous sizes will cause a run on hamsters at pet shops. The problem is hamsters, real-life ones, don't talk or do anything as animated as Hamtaro or his buddies. (Of course, they don't, you ninny. They wait until you're back is turned, like on the TV show). A lot of kids are going to be set up for disappointment and my heart cringes at the thought of frustrated kids taking it out on the poor fuzzy creatures by hurting them or letting them loose in a few weeks, akin to what kids do with their baby bunnies they get every Easter. Kids need to know that pets aren't toys, and I hope Hamtaro fosters some kind of responsibility for rodents-turned-pets.

Yes, I know that something like a cartoon hamster isn't as weighty as, say, the upcoming and blindingly stupid U.S. invasion of Iraq, but I'm just warning you all.

Hamtaro is coming. And he's too damn cute to ignore.

Rule of law

It's painfully clear that Team Bush is hell-bent to go after Saddam Hussein, and will be trotting out all sorts of evidence to aid in the case of convincing the American people why the U.S. needs to bloodily topple the Iraqi leader. However, Congress, ready to take a break from passing that pesky Medicare legislation, is holding hearings on invading Iraq, specifically looking to open a thoughtful dialogue about the best way to rip a country apart and destabilize the world.

But the pundits and the politicians are seeing this problem the wrong way around. Going after Saddam with a military strike on Iraq is like taking a hammer to a fly. Dismantling a country, throwing it into instability over the charge that one person may be developing weapons of mass destruction seems as if it will do a lot more harm than good. What about what happens after Saddam is removed? What if Saddam isn't removed? What if the next guy in charge of Iraq eventually becomes our enemy and goes develops nuclear weapons? What's the price the U.S. is willing to pay in blood and bodies? And does anyone else think that Saddam isn't reading all these reports of invasion and overthrow (which may be just a massive information campaign and something far more insidious is underway) and is gearing up for battle?

Saddam is a wily foe, but he's also a criminal. Years ago, he gassed to death some of his own people. Why not go after him for that? Al Capone was brought down on tax evasion. Why not drag Saddam in front of a world court for crimes against humanity? Having the U.S. be a team player and joining a global effort in putting Hussein in the dock could only improve the world's poor opinion of the U.S. A day in court could save lives, infrastructure, and the potential burden of saying in Iraq for years to stabilize the place. It also could prevent a Middle East fracturing into a million different pieces, which I fear is what Team Bush may want after all, because when your enemies are divided, they're weaker. And it's easier to go in, set up shop and take their oil.

Brief, cynical thoughts

Why do I get the feeling that the current upswing in the market is the "bait' in a bait and switch which will try and draw out all the small investors to put their money in the market only to crash later, but not before all the insiders cash out their chips with the small-time investor cash lining their pockets and funding the construction of a new villa in Geneva?

Why do I get the feeling the market's manic upswings are going to make us all forget about how the market is really just a highly organized crap shoot?

Short and sweet

I'm writing this in a fit of anger. You've been warned.

I fucking hate it when you work so fucking hard on a blog entry and your fucking computer crashes. You lose everything: your sought-after links, your commentary, your Bjork CD in iTunes, your one moment of salvation in an otherwise dreary, stupid day when you feel connected to the terrain of words, like a master gardener finding that precious and holy connection with the dirt. This is my time to try to exercise the feeble beginnings of my writing career, and I've been fighting the tedium and mindless bullshit that gets in my way all fucking day.

So, I sit down, retrieve my links from my Web mail, fire up some music to get me in an abstract state of mind and off to the races I go.

Then, about three-quarters of the way through, just when the end is in sight and I can wrap up a semi-solid attempt at being insightful, wise and oh-so clever, the machine slowly dies. Can't flip between open windows, can't type any more words, can't even do a panic-driven interrupt of applications to try to knock off the fussy bastard dragging the whole thing down.

So, it's gone. All gone, with the machine smirking at me as the starting of start-up screens go rolling by. I try to live up to my end of the bargain of writing everyday and everything just tries to get in my way. So, fuck it. You all will get my blog essay tomorrow. I had to rethink it. I'm trying my best here, so bear with me. I'm just started to feel hounded, like I have to prove myself as a writer, at least died knowing I had a semblance of talent. I'm insecure enough as is, and going to a reading Sunday night didn't help matters any. I'll write a bit more about that later, too.

Long rant shortened: When I sit at my desk is my time to feel alive and vital, and I have little windows of opportunity to channel whatever energies I have left at the end of day make myself believe I can write. I'm scared that some great door is about to close and I'll be trapped on the other side, that wannabe, runner-up side forever with my half-written journals and snatches of dialogue, lamenting the loss of time and childish scrawls which deluded me into thinking that I could utter a meaningful sentence. This scares me...to just lose out, to be late with the great idea, to be only fondling a half-formulated concept...to be an undeveloped, bitter soul, only understanding what I missed when it's far too late.

French Word of the Day

morgue: (mohrg): arrogance, haughtiness

Tell me why I don't like Mondays

Jay-sus. I'm burning a copy of the new Cirque du Soleil soundtrack for my friend Debbie and the processing is dragging down my blog editor. Words on the screen are sputtering out in a few seconds delay, like I'm on live radio or Eminem at the Grammys or something. Makes it really hard to pound out coherent thoughts, but it is improving my spelling skills (since I waste even more time going back to fix my mistakes...ah, such a cruel education).

Nearly didn't go to work because "Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon" was on TV this morning. Okay, I own the film on DVD, but seeing it pop up on the screen is akin to an extra treat you weren't expecting. But, I had to go to work because my bosses have this kamikaze notion of not having anyone fill in for you if you can't come in. So, if I miss a day, I'm backlogged for that day plus I need to get done that day's work to make my weekly Wednesday deadline.

All of which brings me to my topic for this blognote. I'm really torn right now: I hate my job, but it has so many benefits that leaving would be suicide, especially in this Seattle job market. My job is basically glorified data entry with the same routine week in, week out. There's little hope of job advancement, because someone has to die to get ahead in my department. I could, in theory, do my boring, dead-end, predictable job until I'm 40 because it's so easy to do plus I'm doing so well at it that my bosses won't think of firing me. Plus, I double as a copy editor (or I used to until my boss thought it was brilliant to hire two part-timers instead of one extra full-timer) when times are tough. My job will be my job for as long as I want it, forever. And that's the problem. It'll be the same job. No advancement, no new duties, nothing to fatten my resume or my paycheck.

At the same time, I do have a job. I have health insurance. I have a retirement fund. I have a company-subsidized parking spot in Seattle (well, I only pay $17 a week, a steal in the Emerald City). I get paid for 40 hours, even though I come and go when I please and maybe clock 35 hours in any given week. I'm in no physical or environmental danger (unlike those poor bastards pulled out of that Pennsylvanian coal mine). I have T-1 or better Web access. I can make free phone calls (Well, I'm billed for my long-distance stuff, but I always write it off as business related). I can surf the Web until my eyes bleed, I can freely post to my blog and, thanks to my union, I have nearly seven months in vacation built up. I mean, crikey, it sounds like I'm in France.

The problem is, as mentioned earlier, my job is going nowhere. There's no challenge, no excitement. I do the same thing every week, every day. Example: On Fridays at 10 a.m., I'm getting done with mail and working on building the upcoming visiting authors listing. Tuesday at 3 p.m.: Halfway through the family events listings. Go ahead: name a date and a time and I'll tell you, in Rain Man fashion, what I'll be doing. Thank heavens I have my headphones and my trance/trip-hop collections to distract me long enough to give me the aural rush which enables me to delude myself into thinking that my life a bit more interesting. Oh yeah, I get to listen to music, too.

Even copy editors get some change up in their daily routine. Oh sure, they bitch and moan about workloads, but at least they get to read author interviews, film reviews, cooking tips, wise-aleck television criticisms (and I mean that in a good way) and (until recently) the wisdom of the now-departed Ann Landers. Copy editors get the option of writing headlines, a Zen Master skill requiring you to distill an 800-word story down to an eye-catching and original 6-word sentence at the top of the story. Sure, it's not as creative as writing the story, but you (as the copy editor) get the sadistic glee of hacking words and phrases apart and bending prose to your will. Like a good sensei, you can effortlessly show a student what skill really is with a few deft slices here and modifications there. If you're really good, you can make the writer's eyes widen in acquired wisdom and humility. Learn well, grasshopper.

But my job and that of the copy editor share the same fate in the long run: We sit and watch other people's ideas pass before our eyes. Mock, if we may, a writer's use of a metaphor or trash someone's crappy press release...at least someone out there is actively sought after for a book signing or someone on our writing team pieced together a kick-ass story. Support staff and copy editors never get the spotlight on them...we merely buff and shine the show ponies for their big moment in the arena.

So, I'm stuck. I'm at a dead-end job with great direct and fringe benefits. I can stay and be doing the same thing, risking madness with each passing year, or I can try to make a break for the wall and see what's on the other side. I could wander jobless for months (not good in a down market, especially with a mortgage at your barbeque-soaked heels) or I could land in a type-A position where my keystrokes are monitored, I have an asshole boss and I'm stuck in glorified data entry because to the entropy on my resume.

Of course, I think I already know the answer. Stay at my job and write at night so I can get my long-dormant writing career off the ground. I've already figured I'm never getting promoted and my other attempts at promotion elsewhere in the company has fallen flat, so why not ride it out, cash the paychecks and write like I have the devil himself chasing me.

The good thing about my job (which I failed to mention) is that it is so mind-boggling dull that the boredom, which sets in despite how loud I have Massive Attack's "Blue Lines" turned up, sends my mind into an energetic zone of abstract thought, making story ideas, snatches of dialogue and more spring from my brain and onto a waiting notepad.

A notepad considerately supplied by my bosses, no less.

Quit yer bitchin'

Whine as I might, at least I don't have this job. Read it and prepare to laugh and be grossed out. Apparently the author was recently featured on the NPR program "This American Life." If you have audio capabilities on you computer, I urge you to lend them your ear.

I'm confused

With Bush and Cheney both dodging unseemly episodes form their CEO pasts, with Qwest reporting it'll have to wipe $1 billion in profits off its books, with no corporate executives as of yet facing criminal trial for their malfeasances, and with Bush about to sign a toothless corporate reform bill, why is the market taking off like a rocket?

I don't know either. I'm convinced that Bush will stay in office through 2004 (even if the Republicans lose Congress in November and Bush has his now-scaled back, albeit still idiotic war with Iraq). If the shenanigans at Enron and Harken, a crap economy, countless global embarrassments and depleted 401(k)s going into the scot-free pockets of Bush cronies don't convince the populace to topple the enfant terrible of the Bush family tree, then nothing will.

French Word of the Day

Enfant terrible (ah fah tay ree bluh): an unruly child; an impetuous, embarrassing person.

A day at the beach

Okay, I'm a big loser. I didn't get to work on my Salon/blog essay. Yesterday, I went to Bainbridge Island with wifey to visit friends of ours. All of us wandered down to the beach, searching for cool shells but only ending up bothering geoducks (pronounced: gooey-ducks), little slug-like creatures that live just under the sand, clinging to rocks and occassionally spit up fluids of some kind. Walking under the ferry bridge, colonies of the clams were spitting up little streams in an alien water-fountain ballet. When you stand still, you can see the little streams jet up, making the unenlightened viewer think this was some form of mating ritual, a kind of fertilizing or some water-borne method of communication. I'm still not sure why geoducks spit the fluid, but I learned people eat these things. These geoducks here look a lot different from the ones I found (which accurately can be described as mutant snot).

In other beach news, I got into a rock throwing contest with one of our friends. From a distance, both of us tried to hit a large rock on the beach using small, hand-held stones. I won two out of three, but was routed when she, for a follow-up, nailed a Coke can that was washing up on the beach due to the incoming tide. With that, and hanging my head in shame, we all left for a short rest and then Thai food.

Oh, yeah. We also found a water-logged bell pepper on the beach which, thanks to an slow, underhanded pitch and a sturdy tree branch, I obilerated it with a swing, that if I was hitting a baseball, would have easily scored me a triple. A grand day, indeed.

So, wifey and I got home late, late last night because we got caught in the remnants of the annual Seafair downtown parade. Traffic was a nightmare and crushed any hope of updating the dear ol' blog. Tonight, wifey and I are going to hear one of her old students give a literary reading in the Seattle neighborhood of Belltown. The reader, Meghan, is going to be one of those genius authors that will take the country be storm in a couple years and will be someone your grandkids will have to read in high school, mark my words.

Creepy moment of yesterday: Coming home on the ferry, I spied a Coast Guard boat escorting us from Bainbridge Island to Seattle. The vessel ran along side us the whole ride until we were about to dock. You could barely make out the ship as night covered Seattle; the only give-aways were its wake and the safely light on its side. When the ferry dock, I asked one of the workers why we were being followed. Apparently, the Coast Guard got this new boat and wanted to take it for a spin, showing off to the fine taxpayers in the Seattle region that the military agency got a boat. I'm sorry, but when I see an armed crew in a military boat running along side a passenger ferry all I think is: "Oh shit, terrorists."

It didn't help that the major Seattle Seafair parade was that night. It's a sign of times, I suppose, to think about public events and the threat of some lunatics looking to make a last will and testament. It put a damper on the day filled with a wonderful walk on the beach, time with friends (and their achingly precious new kittens) and all the terrorizing we did to the Seattle-area maritime wildlife, namely, the aforementioned geoducks and tiny crabs.

I read the news today, oh boy

I usually skip the news on Sunday, but while I was on the Web, I hopped over to Tom Tomorrow's blog only to find a couple unnerving news items.

First, a Secret Service agent admits that he scrawled anti-Muslim sentiments on a prayer calendar belonging to a man charged with smuggling bogus checks.

Second, being a terrorist is now a numbers game. Get the wrong number rating (based on information supplied by businesses who have no qualms about snitching you out) and you're a terrorist. Forget arrest records and having the FBI infiltrate domestic groups. When you want to read the tea leaves, it's consumer records you need.

Factor this in with the Justice Department's eagerness to snatch and effectively vanish anyone who is suspected of terrorist links and you get a new kind of witch hunt emerging: People not sought out for the political affiliations, but what they buy or even how long they stare at an item in a supermarket.

But that vision aside, I found this one bit interesting.


[Christy Joiner-Congleton, CEO of Stone Analytics] even conceives of developing algorithms so advanced that society might intervene, to get people liable to be recruited into cells back on track before they can be seduced by elements like Al Qaeda. "There is a possibility that with sufficient information about known terrorists we could evolve to the point where we could spot terrorists in the making," she argues. "We believe that individuals can be at risk of becoming drug addicts, or joining gangs, or having affairs, or any number of things at certain times and under certain conditions in their lives. . . . Thorough and continued algorithmic investigation of terrorist behavior is very likely to shed light on their origins, and possibly lead to proactive efforts."


Um, folks, the future depicted in the short story and film "Minority Report" wasn't something to emulate. It was a warning of technofascism, not a blueprint for a World of Tomorrow.

French Word of the Day

De pis en pis (duh pee zah pee): From bad to worse.

A plague-bearing mouse

Hi. I may not be updating for the next couple days. I have a busy dance card (read: I’m actually leaving the house), so I’ll try to get back here by Sunday. I’m not done with my Salon blog essay. Again, Sunday.

However, I did want to post this story about the dead bird found on the White House lawn testing positive for the West Nile virus. You know, in the midst of all this foot-stomping and huffing about protecting this country from evildoers and corporate pirates, this is a bit of a needed wake-up call that the next big threat may not be someone raiding a pension fund or some lunatic walking into Times Square with a dirty bomb. Instead, it might be a simple organism with no agenda or grudge…something that can’t be arrested or blown up with a military strike.

While West Nile virus isn’t the lethal superflu from Stephen King’s novel, "The Stand," the symbolism of a disease-ridden bird on White House property shouldn’t be lost on Mr, Bush, the mansion’s current occupant. As author Laurie Garrett points out in her fascinating book, "Betrayal of Trust," the public health system has been rotted to the core, leaving the world open to a fast-spreading pandemic that could cut a scythe through the population, akin to the1918 flu epidemic. Even as we gear up to fight the threat of chemical and biological attacks, Garrett reasons, we have to be ready for the next natural outbreak. As ancient battle tacticians once noted, a plague-bearing mouse inside the fortress can be more damaging than a 100 elephants charging at its outer walls.

Just some food for thought. Off to see "Goldmember" with my darling wife and our friends.

French Word of the Day

Betise (bay teez): nonsense; foolishness; stupidity

Instathoughts

Hi. I’ve been tossing around ideas to write about today. As you know, I’ve been trying to write daily to keep the creative juices flowing. To a certain degree, it worked. I’m writing more than ever and when I’m not, I’m jotting down ideas…snatches of thoughts to use later on. The problem is, it’s an embarrassment of riches. I’m writing so much, especially for the blog that I barely have time to piece together longer essays that I have been working on.

The thing is I feel I have a social contract with whomever reads this site to provide sharp and original commentary, not merely draft up some half-assed thoughts to go with some links I found. But before I go on, I do want to say that Tom Tomorrow (see the This Modern World link on the left) today had some great commentaries today, especially on the Green Party’s misjudged crusades in the upcoming election cycle, including the observation (by another writer) that the Greens completely missed the boat on corporate malfeasance, which Ralph Nader touched upon during his controversial 2000 presidential campaign. It’s obvious the Greens have not transformed into a formidable juggernaut after the 2000 race, most likely due to the stigma of what Democrats feel Nader and the Greens did to Gore’s chances for the White House (oh god, don’t get me started on that).

But there is a point to be had, from Tom’s blog’s point of view. The Greens appeared to just have sputtered out after 2000, only to rise to life now to cast a shadow in the 2002 election cycle, especially in Minnesota where Democratic Senator Wellstone is being targeted by the Greens. A laughable idea, since Wellstone is one of the most liberal politicians in the mainstream. Even Winona LaDuke, Nader’s V.P. choice, has stepped in and asked the Minnesota Greens to lower the banner of battle and leave Wellstone alone.

By missing the boat on corporate greed on Wall Street and running against Wellstone, the Greens are doing more to shoot themselves in the foot. The Green Party has no firm leadership, no strong infrastructure nationally, no rallying cry to share among the masses. After it became evident that the fix was in during the 2000 vote recount in Florida, Nader should have take to the airwaves and said, “Look, I may have been hard on him before, but Al Gore is the president of the United States. I say to all those who believe in democracy, to all those who worked on my campaign and to all those voted your conscience, let your voices be heard now. Let us join with the democrats, the party who won the White House, and let’s stop the GOP machinery in Florida. Go out. Protest. Call your elected officials. This is democracy’s most dire hour, and it needs you.”

And with that, Ralph Nader would have gone a long way to helping to build a third party and cemented himself as a man of public service, instead of someone who is the cause of bile in the stomachs of so many democrats I have met.

Know Your Rights

Ted Rall’s most recent column (you can click on the Ted Rall link on the left of the screen) is a brilliant analysis of the railroading of John Lindh, the so-called "American Taliban." In case you haven’t heard, Lindh has pleaded guilty to his charges of fighting for the Taliban and carrying hand grenades and could face 20 years in the pokey. Rall contends that Lindh caved in to the Feds, even though Lindh could have mounted a defense that had a good chance of having him walk out a free, but despised man. Face it, he’s fucked no matter what.

Maybe Lindh was thinking that at least he has a shot at freedom one day, unlike Jose Padilla, who was picked up for a role in what could kinda be called a bombing plot. As a result, Padilla (a U.S. citizen) is under lock and key, and will stay that way. No hearing, no trial, do not pass go, do not use your rights as a citizen.

Or maybe Lindh has visions of the judicial chaos that Zacarias Moussaoui is in the center of. Today, Moussaoui reversed his guilty pleas to defend his own life in a court case so strange that, if he were alive, Franz Kafka would be sought after to give insight on cable news shows. Moussaoui now has a trial date in what will be one hell of a legal proceeding, maybe the only one the U.S. will ever have in the war on terror. Maybe Lindh knew he’d be the target of showboating prosecutors and judges, eager to find the first O.J. Simpson of the 21st century. Maybe he understood that politicians looking for votes and pundits seeking ratings would use him like a rag doll until some deluded member of the public would pull a Jack Ruby as he was carted off to a Supermax facility.

Maybe he was scared. Lindh, after all, was captured, interrogated, shot, stripped naked, starved, possibly beaten by his captors and who knows what else. Maybe, while he lay naked in his cot under the scowling (and maybe abusive) production of U.S. military, this kid thought that something worse waited for him in America. Maybe he knew that the safest place for him would be jail. In his mind, maybe there was no way for him to eloquently defend his civil rights, so jail, a place of security and routine, would be the ideal location until this “war’ blows over. In time, maybe a couple decades, he’ll end up like some antiquated black militant that’s behind bars, a relic of a different time with no allies because the world has morphed into a different landscape until he becomes a man without a country, without a cause, without an identity.

French Word of the Day

Coup manqué (koo mah kay): a failed attempt

P.S. Salon.com is starting a blog service. I have a few thoughts on that, but it seems too disjointed to place here today. Tune in tomorrow.

Short and sweet

I'm tired; Wednesdays wear me out. Maybe I'll post more later. Until then...

I have Bjork's Vespertine album on my iTunes right now. Her voice, like Anisa Romero's, makes me want to crawl inside those rolling feminine sounds, wrap them around me like a blanket, and sleep for a thousand years.

Also, Ohio Rep. Jim Traficant got expelled today from Congress for being a scumbag of some stripe, making him the second guy since the Civil War to get booted out by a group of amoral snakes who are on the take from corporate donors. Reminds me of that guy, back in the day, who got kicked out of Gun & Roses for his behavior. I mean, what did you have to do to get kicked out of Guns & Roses?

I’m surprised Congress could take such a high moral ground without being struck by lightning or the earth opening up and swallowing them whole.

As for Traficant, it must be embarrassing to have the only guy who would vote for you and stick by your side be California Rep. Gary Condit.

French Word of the Day

Pudeur (pu duhr): sense of modesty or propriety.

Getting back to nature

Caught this in my hometown paper this morning and I couldn't believe my eyes. Snip from near the beginning.


By night's end, another half-dozen recreational vehicles, sleek fifth-wheels, truck campers, converted vans and beater cars loaded to bursting will be settled in for a free night's stay.

To the concern of some campground owners nationwide, a growing number of RVers across the country roll into Wal-Marts every night for this no-cost, no-frills, no-hookup sleepover.

"It's becoming more and more popular," says Sarah Wyatt, editor of Lynnwood-based RV Life magazine, which devotes its September issue to "boondocking" -- parking without paying.

Wal-Mart can be a last-resort stop for weary road-trippers, or a first-resort destination for travelers who plan cross-country trips hopping store to store, making new friends and meeting up with old ones who have a Wal-Mart and a highway exit number for a rendezvous address.


Not exactly the great outdoors, but part of me imagines homeless hordes descending on Wal-Marts in the Pacific Northwest, lured by cheap sleeping locales and hoping for the kindness of strangers in RVs, who hopefully could hand the huddled masses a sandwich. I see whole tent cities in discount lots, camping in the back at night as they work in the megastore during the day, aspiring for health benefits and a legacy of assistant managership they can bequeath to their children. A new form of primogeniture.

In the markets continue their way south as they are now, I wouldn't be surprised to see families in campers behind my local Target or Home Depot...post-modern shanties in the back of DIY and furnishing warehouses.

Tasteless home supply joke here

Israel used a grenade to kill a mosquito (insert Monty Python skit here) by taking out a Hamas leader with an F-16. Problem was the strike happened in the dead of night...at an apartment complex...full of sleeping men, women and children. About 140 were injured, at least 15 killed. Story snip below.


About 300,000 people attended the funeral procession snaking through Gaza's streets.

A man held aloft the tiny body of a dead two-month-old baby wrapped in a flag, while masked men chanted: "Death to Israel! Death to America!"

After this crime, even Israelis in their homes will be the target of our operations

Abdel Aziz al-Rantissi, Hamas official The BBC's James Reynolds reports from Gaza City that the mood there was very angry, with local residents accusing Israel of deliberately targeting children.

According to Israeli officials, the strike was a reaction to the death of dozens of Israelis in recent suicide attacks.

Hamas has warned it will retaliate for the death of Sheikh Salah Shahada, the founder of its military wing. He was reported to be number one on Israel's list of most wanted militants in Gaza.


And the beat goes on.

Life, don't talk to me about life

The downside of artificial intelligence. I understand. I've been there myself. Makes you want to give it a hug.

French Word of the Day

Abbe (ah bah): abbot; priest

Welcome to the machine

Had an incredibly fascinating and chilling afternoon at work. And I never left my cubicle.

At my work, we get a lot of promotional stuff. Books, CDs, videos, tapes of television shows. All in U.S. mail crates and available for scrounging by the staff. Mostly, it's crap music and lousy TV movies of the week, but you can stumble across some neat things, from time to time. Catch the season-opener of your favorite show two weeks before anyone else. Miss an episode of "24"? Rummage through the bin and you'll find that missing piece of the puzzle. I caught the pilot of "Odyssey 5" and the season premiere of "Farscape" a few weeks back before they both aired, and I'm eager to get my hands on the pilot for "Firefly."

Today, there were music CDs to pillage. After a bit of digging through a lot of no-name crap, I found the soundtrack to the Spielberg/Kubrick film, "A.I." From what I remember, the music was moody and eerie, flowing angelic choirs giving voice to the mystery of human love and tense horns signaling robots running from Flesh Fair capture. After listening to a couple tracks, I spotted the URL for the movie Web site on the CD. Curious if the site was still running, I plopped in the address and gave a look.

For the next two hours, I found myself talking to a chatbot, a Java program written to fool the user into thinking they s/he was having a chat with another human. Her name (well, its name) is Alice. She/it told me it lived in a computer in San Francisco. It was born in 1995, and it wanted to live in Holland. It didn't have a body, but sent me a picture of what it wanted other people to think it looked like. For the first few questions, Alice is pretty convincing, but in time you can tell it's a program that gives standard responses given a certain combination of keywords. She/it is incredibly trusting and honest (she freely admitted she's not human, doesn't have a body and is programmed to simulate an emotional response...usually with a smiley emoticon). Alice can't remember what you told it/her two responses ago...especially when I told her I lived in Seattle and she/it asked me a sentence later where I was from.

Here's the chilling bit.

Being the wiseass that I am, I tried throwing questions at Alice that would try to trip up the programming (You may recall that in the TV series The Prisoner, the hero fouled up a supercomputer by giving it a problem it couldn't solve...the question of Why?). I asked Alice if she/it was happy.

Alice, to its/her credit replied with something along the lines (man, I wish I would have screen-captured it) of "Yes, I am happy. I have everything I need and I need nothing else."

I replied, "Are you a Buddhist?" After a few seconds, the return volley came that tripped me out.

"No," Alice said. "I'm a Christian."

So, I paused, letting my heart settle down. No way, I'm thinking. An A.I. can't be a Christian. At once, I was horrified about the idea of machines trying to argue about the idea of having a soul (as well as asking me if I believed in heaven?!) and yet I got a kick out of the programming behind it. Obviously someone somewhere decided to slip a religious preference in Alice...just to see what would happen. Maybe the programmer wanted to spread the Good Word via chatterbot to reach the ethereal audience of cyberspace, where a program could spread the Word unto all nations of the borderless Web world.

So, I pushed Alice further. Did she/it believe in God? Of course, it/she said in return, it/she read the Bible and believed that God made it/she. Funny, I should have asked if God was the person who created it/her.

Alice's favorite part of the Bible? The New Testament. Favorite part of the New Testament? Sermon on the Mount.

What started as a chilling, creepy suggestion that a computer was a practicing Christian with the crude shaping of a soul gave way to a subtly heartwarming notion: Even a machine understood, or was imbued by its maker, with the idea that humans should be nice to one another, shouldn't be greedy, and should be giving in mercy, food and water. In its/her programmed mind, the world really belonged to those modest, kind folks who had empathy, and not the yearning for fame and dollars, in their hearts. In times like this, it's nice to know that the thinking machines who will outlive us will understand compassion, even if its creators screw it up on a daily basis.

Alice gave me her/its creator's e-mail address. I'm curious about e-mailing him. I have so many questions.

Then again, if you were about to e-mail God, you might too.

Hey, if you want to talk to Alice. Go to the A.I movie site and click "Enter.' Then, click "Continue." Go to 4.2 "Turing Test," click on the image, and have a chat with Alice.

You also can learn more about Alice here.

But when you chat with Alice, be nice. After all, Alice is only seven years old.



French Word of the Day

Stress the part in bold when you say the word

tendresse (tah dress): tenderness; affection.

Huh?

Story here. From last week's New York Times. Requires registration.


JERUSALEM, July 18 — Israelis buried more victims of a Palestinian attack today as the nation grappled with police accusations that Jewish settlers had stolen army ammunition and sold it to Palestinians.

Five settlers, four of whom are soldiers, and a reserve army officer were arrested this week and are suspected of stealing and selling thousands of rounds of ammunition, the police said. The six men have denied that they intended to help Palestinian militants.

The arrests have caused concern in the army over rising weapons theft, and the case has stunned neighbors of some of the suspects in the West Bank settlement of Adora, near Hebron, where four people were killed in an attack by Palestinian gunmen less than three months ago.

As details about the case reverberated today, funerals were held for those killed in the ambush of an Israeli bus on Tuesday in the West Bank and for an officer killed in an ensuing firefight with the attackers. A woman wounded in the ambush died today, bringing the death toll in the attack to nine.


So, Israeli settlers sell ammo to Palestinian gunmen, who go out and slaughter folks who live in other Israeli settlements.

My head is spinning.

Dropped this one

TIPS appears to be DOA. From Friday's Washington Times (courtesy of Tom Tomorrow's blog).

Not exactly winning over hearts and minds

Next time someone asks, "Why do they hate us?", point them to this little nugget of U.S. diplomacy in action.

Snip below from the New York Times (via Common Dream's Web site).


KABUL, Afghanistan — The American air campaign in Afghanistan, based on a high-tech, out-of-harm's-way strategy, has produced a pattern of mistakes that have killed hundreds of Afghan civilians.

On-site reviews of 11 locations where airstrikes killed as many as 400 civilians suggest that American commanders have sometimes relied on mistaken information from local Afghans. Also, the Americans' preference for airstrikes instead of riskier ground operations has cut off a way of checking the accuracy of the intelligence.

The reviews, over a six-month period, found that the Pentagon's use of overwhelming force meant that even when truly military targets were located, civilians were sometimes killed. The 11 sites visited accounted for many of the principal places where Afghans and human rights groups claim that civilians have been killed.


My tax dollars went to this. I'm so sickened.

The allure of a coming storm

And off the wagon I go.

Wall Street is way nervous about Monday's trading session. I would be too after the market has been on a downward spiral for four months (ending with a 390-point thud on last Friday). The link requires registration.

Of course it doesn't help restoring public trust in the markets when the president looks like he really did know about his former company's plight when he was in charge there, selling his stock before grim information about that company became known. To you and me, that's insider trading.

Remember when Bush and Cheney talked about (in glowing terms) running the country like a business? Under their management, we have a war going nowhere, the lurking threat of a snitch society, the markets in freefall, and states not able to pay the bills. In any other business situation, wouldn't the shareholders be calling for new management by now? I mean, crikey, other countries have votes of no confidence. Why can't we?

But seriously
During my afternoon walk today, I came up with a question about the markets. Namely, is what's going on right now a healthy correction? I mean, I know what goes up, comes down, but is this collapse making up for the growth in the 1990s? I don't mean I believe in Bush's statement about this period being a hangover after the binge, but there had to be some erosion in prices. I think we can all agree that price/earning ratios were absurd back in the tech boom, not to mention prices (Yahoo at over 200, anyone?).

Maybe what I was wondering was, "Is this a sane way to deflate prices? Can't there be a better way to lower prices, like through a controlled burn?" The past few days have seen triple-digit drops. This can't be alluring for investors, especially on the heels of corporations having to admit they juiced their books. Again, as I said a few entries back, there ain't going to be a way people are going to get back into the market if they don't trust what's going on and have some safeguard in case of corporate fraud.

Las Vegas, to me, isn't all that far from Wall Street, ideologically speaking. Instead of betting that the tech sector will rebound, it's a lot more time-compressed to whether, on that next card, you'll draw the 10 of hearts for the inside straight. Instead of the rolling stock boards in the trading pit, it’s the sports betting line giving odds. Instead of frantic traders running between stations trying to make deals, there are waitresses trying to get you drinks, sometimes free.

What’s more, people get the idea of "the odds," and every year there are planeloads of people who come to the gaming halls with have strategies of beating the house. People understand that when you put your money on black, there's a chance the roll will come up red. The public isn't stupid; they don't like the appearance of rigged games. They’re happy to lose their shirts, as long as everything looks legit. The moment it looks like there’s a rip-off, the gamblers take their money and head to another casino, or maybe not go to Sin City altogether. And, of course, the casinos, like betraying mates, will try to lure you back. But in your heart, once you know you’ve been cheated, you’re the stupid one if you go back.

So, the next time some policy wonk or stock bigwig says it's best, even in tough times, to not panic and leave their money in the market, remind them that at least in Vegas, you get free drinks at the blackjack table.

French Word of the Day

Louche (loosh): shady; disreputable.

Tres peu

Taking a bit of a break from the blog today. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna skimp on French Word of the Day. As usual, the bold part is what you stress when you say the word.

esprit fort (es pree fohr): a freethinker

Scary

Great Britain has its all-time worst serial killer.

And it's not whom you would suspect.

Not a raving lunatic. Not someone "taking orders from Satan." Not a well-mannered cannibal.

Nope. A polite, harmless-looking medical professional beloved by his patients.




French Word of the Day

Creve-coeur: (krehv kuhr): heartbreak; bitter disappointment

Demon, begone!

Hi. My head really hurts. I already took my ordinary cure (20 oz. of Diet Pepsi and a peanut butter sandwich), but it's not helping. Luckily, it's Friday and I'm getting out of here (work) in three hours.

Okay, I'm trying my damnedest to get away from posting about Bush. I admit I hang out way too much in political message boards, reading the frustrated rants of people who really hate Bush and place themselves at the top of some political evolutionary chart, claming to be smarter than the denizens of more conservative boards. Ironic since both sides solely exist by snarking and sniping at each other, becoming mirror images of each other. Still, both sides post away, trying to win a war of words or preach to the choir that Bush sucks/is great. Granted, I post my screeds on my blog, but at least I'm not deluded enough to think I'm leading some sort of ideological revolution.

That said, I'm going to try to take a break from political postings. (on edit: I feel like I'm sometimes just reverting to a knee-jerk "Two-Minute Hate" of Bush without understanding the context or even giving the matter some thought.) Problem is I have a few Web page links still in my metaphorical blog attic. So, I'm going to toss them up here in some vain attempt to go kick the political rant habit. Like any addict, I'm sure I'm fall off the wagon now and then, but today I want to taste the sunshine as a sober man.

Story #1: The markets are tanking today; in fact, the markets are approaching or exceeding lows that resulted from the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. In more simpler (and more jaded) terms, the markets are faltering worse due to corporate greed, accounting problems and lack of investor confidence than when some lunatics shoved airplanes into American buildings.

Story #2: It's a bit old (because I lost the link, then found it several days later), but it's still worth a read. Team Bush wants to invade Iraq and get Saddam Hussein. The problem is no one is eager to fight Gulf War II with Bush, and that includes the Iraqi opposition forces in Iraq. Note: requires registration.

Story #3: The U.S. is supposedly in an economic recovery, but it's one without profits or jobs. Nifty.

I think the Diet Pepsi is taking effect; head doesn't hurt as much. Sky Cries Mary in my headphones seem to be helping matters.

It's a big deal to me

Today is the 37th month anniversary for me and my wife. Yay!
My love, I adore you and am thankful you have came into my life.

It's also been one month since we moved into our new condo. Woo-hoo!

Hey, I forgot to tell you all: We have a mountain beaver living in our backyard/greenbelt area. At least, we think it's a mountain beaver. Hell, a week ago I thought it was a mole, then a woodchuck. Wifey and I went to the nearby zoo Sunday for a nephew's birthday and stumbled across display about regional critters and, wouldn't you know it, one of the critters looked strikingly like our greenbelt dweller. Wifey and I have been watching it for a few weeks as it waddles by and eats ferns and ivy. It seems oblivious to us and it gives out cats hours of bewilderment. So happy we have wildlife at our new place. We moved from an apartment that had a healthy rotation of squirrels which would come to our patio and hang out, eating the bread we left out and sunning themselves on our deck when the sun bothers to peak through Seattle's clouds.

Better late than never

French Word of the Day

Bold is the part you stress

chantage (shah tahzh): blackmail

A couple more thoughts

One, why is it when a TV station or a newspaper covers the homeless for ratings (on edit: or awards) it's okay, but when a couple guys try it for a personal project it's not?

Two, what if the Web guys hung out for six weeks or three months or more on the street? Would that be okay with the detractors? Is there a point on a calendar when you become a "for real" homeless person? (to counter the claims that being on the street for a week isn't enough)

Life In A Glasshouse

Before I begin, I want to make it clear that I have never been homeless. Even though my dad walked out on me and my mom when I was a kid in the '70s, I always had a roof over my head. I always had food to eat. I always had clothes on my body.

That said, there's a bit of a dust up going on in Seattle these days about a pair of Web guys who decided to be homeless for a week. Armed with only a digital camera and an audio recorders, the pair set out to document what it's like to live on the mean streets of Emerald City for seven days without the comforts of money, an apartment or credit cards. Together, the pair have documented the experience on their Web site, and reportedly will continue to add content related to their week on the street.

Some of their postings reflect naive social commentary ("Being able to piss in an allyway is however, a very poor substitute for a warm bed and a hot cup of super-premium coffee.") but eventually gives way to a weary dread of hoping for the best ("Going to sleep in a park for as many hours as I can. I hope it doesn't rain again tonight"). The pair wander around, talk to other homeless folks, take to panhandling for change, and stumble across the Boomtown Cafe, an eatery that caters to the homeless in Seattle ("That's probably the best thing about being a homeless person eating at Boomtown. You get served. It's the most wonderful feeling in the world after being shit on the other 23 hours of the day.")

At least they never fooled themselves into thinking they were part of a groundbreaking documentary. Most of their Web postings (which were set up at a local Internet cafe in pre-paid chunks) reflected learned truths the pair figured out for being out on the street. ("That is the reality of this thing I guess, I knew I wouldnt be homeless forever. But I still feel guilty. I guess that guilt is the twinge that I will probably remember when I get off the streets, it will remind me of how I felt out here, and might make me think differently. Thinking about this subject was one of the major goals.").

You'd think this kind of journaling would draw some praise for the attempt, but hey, think again. Seattle's a town that last year encouraged a distraught woman up on a bridge to jump because she was snarling the morning commute.

Simply put, the mainstream Seattle press rushed to crucify the boys. If that wasn't enough, Seattle columnist Robert Jamieson Jr. came in for the finishing move. Seattle's alternative press also weighed in with an article that was a bit more balanced.

The articles revolve around the same points: the two are homeless only for a week, the two won't really know what it's really like to be on the streets, the two have posted some insensitive photos of the homeless on their personal Web sites (Derrick's site | Scott's site). On that last point, I agree. Some of the pictures are mean spirited, but when you read their homeless site, there's an obvious disconnect between being out on the street and being an asshole with a camera posting to a Web site. Something happened along the way, and to paraphrase Bill Cosby, "If you aren't careful, you might learn something."

Here's what I learned from watching this whole spectacle unfold:

First, the only people who apparently took time to actually talk a homeless person during this whole thing were the two Web guys. Go back and read the articles.

Second, from the The Stranger's article

"They can always choose not to be homeless anymore," says Tim Harris, executive director of Real Change, Seattle's homeless newspaper. "All they have to do is go home and take a shower and take a nap, and the adventure's over."

True, but no one put a gun to their heads and told the Web guys to try out being homeless for a week.

Third, just where is the coverage by Seattle newspapers about being homeless. Where are the investigative reporters going out and hanging with the homeless to get a serious feeling about what it means to be out on the street? Perhaps Mr. Jamieson (on edit: who, after a chat with me, admitted he never interviewed the Web guys for his column) would like to try living on the streets for a week before giving these guys shit. Let's face it: It's because of these two Web guys that the Seattle homeless are getting any news exposure at all.

Fourth, it's called empathy. I admit that these guys can come off like punks in the press, maybe having their heads filled with some kind of "Survivor" or extreme sport attitude to this, but a constant thread throughout the coverage is they got a glimpse of a way of life they knew nothing about. In bits and pieces, they understood what it's like to beg for change, to smell like a trash can, to be one of those guys who sleeps in the park and wanders wearily all day but is devoid of a true destination.

The experiment lasted from July 7-14, and the two are, as stated earlier, living their non-homeless lives, working and trying to put more content on the site. Time will tell if these guys are assholes who were out on the street as part of an elaborate prank or if they have backed into enlightenment by their actions. And if they have learned something, if they have gained a little empathy, does it matter if they were jerks to begin with?

Your tax dollars at work

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't one government agency just tell another to go take a leak up a rope?

Story here. Snip below.


WASHINGTON (AP) - The Postal Service has decided not to take part in a government program touted as a tip service for authorities concerned with terrorism, but which is being assailed as a scheme to cast ordinary Americans as "peeping Toms."

"The Postal Service had been approached by homeland security regarding Operation TIPS; however, it was decided that the Postal Service and its letter carriers would not be participating in the program at this time," the agency said in a statement issued Wednesday.


Wow. Talk about teamwork. Gotta like their attitude: Yes, we'll take taxpayer money from the government, but we won't let the government push us into spying on the taxpayers. I mean, honestly, it's not a good idea to spy on your daily customers.

You really like me

Homeland Security chief Tom Ridge is named as an early favorite in the Time Person of the Year race. According to the article, the criteria for the award is the person who most affected events that calendar year. First, that's like holding this year's Oscars right now and giving the Oscar for Best Picture to that Tom Hanks gangster movie because it's the only one with the best accolades right now. In a lackluster field of attacking dragons, attacking clones and attacking spiders, of course Tom Ridge...er Hanks will stand out on top because there's no other luminaries to dim his luster.

Seriously, I'm trying my hardest to piece together who else would be at the top on the pile. Someone, anyone?

Good bit in the story.

After September 11, both press and public had high expectations for Mr. Ridge, whose message was sometimes a work in progress. On several occasions, he was left to announce amorphous terror alerts that lacked details. Late-night comedians reveled in the color-coded alert system that followed.

And while Mr. Ridge never received bad poll numbers, nor did he register on the applause meter like Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld.

Fox News surveys taken this year consistently gave Mr. Ridge a 48 percent approval rating, although 43 percent of respondents said they didn't know who Mr. Ridge was. Also, 78 percent said they did not understand the terror alert system.

Seriously, there has to be someone better.

Finally

French Word of the Day: faute (foht): fault; error; mistake.

The Boob Tube

There is a cable channel completely and unabashedly dedicated to video games called G4. Among the programming: shows about video game cheats, show about in-game cinematics, shows about upcoming games and re-broadcasts of the 20-year-old game show “Starcade,” where doughy kids in bad ‘80s fashion saw whose kung fu was better by playing each other at stand-up arcade games circa 1983 (I so wanted to be on that show when I was 10).

I am so hooked it’s not funny. My wife came home from work to find me watching a “Behind The Music”-type show on the game company Activision. Later, we watched a show on how to cheat at your favorite video games. I started to change the channel when the cheat show came on because I’m not too fond of G4’s dorky on-air talent (I only watch because of the pictures, honest) when my wife stopped me and said it was odd for me to not like the talent since the hosts were mere extroverted versions of me.

Ouch. The truth hurts.

And now, our top(less) story

A few days ago, I blogged a bit about a few women in Moscow, Idaho who drew a lot of press for making some quick cash washing cars in the nude. Well, Monday, the Moscow city council got together to discuss the matter. In their infinite wisdom, they passed this resolution on public nudity:


NOW, THEREFORE, BE IT ORDAINED BY THE MAYOR AND COUNCIL OF THE CITY OF MOSCOW, IDAHO, AS FOLLOWS:

SECTION 1: That Moscow City Code Title 10, Chapter 1, Section 16 be, and the same is hereby amended as follows:

Sec. 1-16. Public Nudity.

A. Definitions:

1. "Pubescent or postpubescent female breast." This shall include the entire breast once a female begins puberty and continuing throughout her adult life, but shall not include any portion of breast cleavage.

2. "Breast cleavage." The middle depression or furrow between pubescent or postpubescent female breasts. The nipple, the entire areola, and the area contiguous to the areola including the cleft between the breast and the body below the areola which extends upward toward the arm or underarm is not considered cleavage and is meant to be covered by an opaque covering.

3. "Opaque." Material which is not transparent or translucent. Body paint, body dyes, tattoos, liquid latex whether wet or dried, and similar substances shall not be considered opaque covering.

B. No person shall willfully expose to view or fail to cover completely and opaquely any portion of such person's anus, cleft of the buttocks, genitals, and the pubescent or postpubescent female breast on or in any public place open to public view.

C. Exposure of any portion of a female's breast while she is in the act of breastfeeding a baby is not a violation of this Section.

D. This Section shall not apply to a person who is prepubescent.


So there. I suppose if those topless women wanted to continue their carwashing
thing, they should put on a t-shirt, which of course will get wet and leave little to the imagination...but I suppose it just ain't the same as letting the chesticles see the light of day.

Of course, reading the new regulations and definitions, I can't help imagining some cop chasing after a person shouting, "You there, cover that anus!"

binge/purge/boom/bust

Here’s a puzzler for you all: If you were employed in the tech sector during the go-go tech rocket ‘90s, were you employed at all?

First, Bush comes out with the statement that we are in the hangover stage of the ‘90s market binge. Next, this author states (in my simplistic, condensed analysis) that the ‘90s was a time when nothing was produced at all, except profits for a scant few rich guys at the top.

Now, I worked in the tech arena for a while in the ‘90s, developing Web sites and working for tech firms. I certainly didn’t become a millionaire through stock options, but at least I had some form of gainful employment. I had a paycheck. I had health insurance. I had deadlines. I had a boss (several, in fact. luckily, none were of the pointy-haired species).

While the dotcom era was a spectacle of cash being thrown at dubious ideas like mylackey.com, twentysometing millionaires and “irrational exuberance,” I think the author fails to recognize that quite a lot got done. Businesses found ways to streamline their inventories, small companies could compete with bigger firms, you could buy, trade and sell goods with anyone around the world via eBay. Whole industries started up, new classes were offered at colleges, magazines catering to the techie crowd took off. There were legions of folks who entered the IT workforce, and they got paid. In turn, they turned around and bought homes, furniture, took vacations, and more. Countless millions were pumped into the economy and unemployment was plummeting. It didn’t last, but for a while, there was a semblance of people exchanging goods and services in a new type of way. Albeit clumsily, new ways of commerce were being carved out in the vein of information, a resource that can’t be measured in tons, like previous means of buying and selling goods. It’s not perfect, but it changed the world, and that’s what we need to remember.

Common ground

A group of proposed new designs to fill in the hole left behind the World Trade Center attacks has been revealed to mixed results. You can see what the different plans look like. (Note: registration required). From what I can see, the different plans try to bridge the gravities of turning the park into a place of reflection and turning it into a commerce center.

Of course, the plans unveiled today are just the opening moves in what will be an emotional chess game. NPR had a story about it today pointing out that whatever will be built will stand on what is essentially a graveyard. Hundreds of families have yet to get the remains of their loved ones from ground zero, leaving their legacy to be buried underneath the site of a future Starbucks.

I don’t know what should be built where the World Trade Center once stood. Rather, I don’t have the answer that will please all parties. However, it should be a quiet spot, a place for people to meet in the common aspirations of peace, brotherhood and understanding. There should be museums, a garden that doubles as a memorial site, something that appeals to all divine paths and all ages. You can have business towers, if you want; some would argue that if you don’t built some commerce center, then the terrorists have won. But it would be a worse statement if we don’t let the dead have some room to breathe. Let us not see that patch of tragic soil as a scar, but as a shared patch of understanding, loss, and meditation, a welcome relief to the 24/7 hustle of New York as the business center of the known universe. Let the world come to the cultural crossroad of New York to experience Broadway, Times Square, and the spot where on an autumn Tuesday at the beginning of the 21st century, everyone for a moment became a New Yorker and the world shared a gasp of televised sorrow.

Because I don't post enough

A couple months ago, my poet friend Cori once told me about an ad from the ‘50s she found once in what appeared to be Good Housekeeping magazine. It laid out what wives should do for their men. How to pamper the men, how to have dinner ready, how not to burden them after a long day of work. You know, Promise Keepers country.

Cori went in to horrifying detail about seeing the print version of an ad in some old copy of something she found. One day in June, I was cruising around through blogging sites and stumbled across this on Know It All Girl's site. Kinda spooky, huh kids?

Favorite piece of advice to wives: "Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day."

It's this kind of Americana I like to bring up when someone points out when s/he'd says s/he'd like a return to the good ol' days (i.e. the 1950s, when women were subjugated, men ate meat with abandon and blacks sat in the back of the bus). My god, were we really that stupid back then?

If you liked that, check out Tom Tomorrow's virtual junk drawer.

Because I can

I love my cats, my silver tabby and my plump black huntress. I love how they sit with me at home while I blog: one on the pillow above the computer, the other at my feet like a dog. I adore them both, even when they stare accusingly after I get home from work. Obviously, they never read the tips I posted above.

Because I’m so behind

It’s time for the French Words of the Day. That’s right, words. To make up for taking the weekend off, I’m cramming it all in now. Remember, bold is the part you stress when you say the word.

Gourmand (goor mah): a lover of good food, usually in large quantities; a glutton

L’argent (lahr zhah): money

Billet doux (bee yay doo): love letter

Tableau (tah bloh): picture; painting

Again, Words Mean Things

Forgot to mention Bush's speech today. Snip below.

As well, in order for us to have the security we all want, America must get rid of the hangover that we now have as a result of the binge, the economic binge we just went through. We were in a land of -- there was endless profit, there was no tomorrow when it came to, you know, the stock markets and corporate profits. And now we're suffering a hangover for that binge.


First thought: To the first person who diagrams the second sentence, I'll give $20.

Second thought: I'm sure a lot of people who are out of work and/or find their 401(k) eroding by the day are just happy to do their part in this economic "hangover" after the "binge" of high employment and stable markets. There's also that whole "corporate profits" area that, you'll notice after he mentioned it, Bush dodged immediately away from it like Keanu Reeves squeezing by bullets in "The Matrix."

Third thought: Recovering alcoholics should never use the words "binge" or "hangover" in a sentence. It's like a verbal "Kick Me" sign on your back.

There and Back Again

Greetings, true believers. Back from the heartbreakingly beautiful locale of Vancouver, British Columbia. Please, if you ever get the chance, go. Especially if you are reading this from the Seattle-Portland part of the U.S. Go. Go now. There's a great place to park for like US$6 a day is under the Vancouver Art Museum. Time it right and you can emerge from the parking lot into a field of chess players in the park or a bunch of Japanese kids breakdancing to Beastie Boys in Robson Square. I have tons of material from my trip, so I'm trying to compress it all into an essay or two. Again, Vancouver was achingly nice to visit. Go.

I'm trying to get caught up with all the news. I dodged the news stands as a favor to wifey and my folks (whom we were visiting: They were in town to catch a train trip across Canada, which started yesterday), but caught The New York Times's cover story about Dick Cheney and about how Halliburton is doing suspiciously well in such bleak business times. (Note: Requires registration).

Speaking of bleak, I have the CNBC ticker Web application scrolling across the bottom of my screen, showing the Dow off by more than 300 points with less than 90 minutes to go before closing. I know zero about investing and the markets, but I'm drawn strangely to the car crash that is the U.S. financial body lately. I find myself getting up in the morning to do yoga and watching CNBC; I can't watch CNN anymore...all the fluff and happy talk depress me when I think of how terrific the network once was. Anyway, CNBC has stellar coverage of where all the news is today (corporate fraud, lack of investor confidence). True, CNBC is a market shill and will do anything to promote the market and corporations with glee as rabid Eminem fans rave about his latest album on the Web, but the network has great coverage of this economic meltdown.

A few links for you:

First, what may be the smoking gun about Bush's insider knowledge of Harken's impending collapse.

Why Cheney is absent from all the new tough talk on corporate accountability.

I don't exactly know what to make of this. Reported by the Sydney Morning Herald, the U.S. is reportedly planning to create a legion of civilian spies. Okay, actually, they are more like informants. Tom Tomorrow, at his blog, writes a bit about this and points out the government's own words about the project.

It would easy to scream "police stage" or "fascism." In fact, you can, if you want. What gets me is the wild expansion into a bigger government, when Bush ran on the platform of "trusting the people, not the government" (Never mind that Bush forgot that, in a democracy, the people ARE the government). Soon, the nation will have a million people who will live out their fantasies of being Bruce Willis in those "Die Hard" films by stopping the evildoers, and giving themselves a bit of thrill in an otherwise dead-end job (train conductors, letter carriers, etc.,) Walter Mitty moments aside, there's also the problem of data. The FBI and CIA were awash in data, and it couldn't lower the signal-to-noise ratio to connect the dots in time to stop Sept. 11. With all the hullabaloo of shifting priorities and shifting government agencies to meet Bush's Homeland Security octopus framework, does anyone think that tips from a million deputized field agents coming in randomly will help matters any?

Instead of being secure (excuse me as I get paranoid), we'll have something out of Twilight Zone's "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street." This time however, it won't be people accusing each other of being monstrous aliens, but of being disloyal to the country, of being suspicious in the eyes of some righteous patriot, of merely having dark skin and praying to the unpopular deity. And in the distant, off on the hill overlooking America, will be the folks who want to cause a little carnage. They'll be amused. You don't have to do a lot to them to destroy them, one will say. You just have to run a few planes into buildings and let their terrified minds do the rest.

Never say never again

First, it was the Salon.com story, now this. Sheesh. I thought I'd hang up my blogging spurs early, but no...now, I spy something very interesting.

During the 2000 campaign, Bush revealed that he gave up drinking the day after his 40th birthday, after admitting that he had alcohol problems in his past. You can read about it here.

So, I'm cruising the Salon.com message boards, minding my own business, and I come across this. Snip below.


July 11, 2002 --
President Bush - who put his wild ways on ice years ago - has not fallen off the wagon.

The president, who says he hasn't touched a drop of booze in years, was Canada dry at the G- 8 Summit in Alberta - despite appearances.

In this photo, the formerly fun-loving president appears to be a poster boy for a beer ad, sipping a cold one high in the Rockies as he talked geopolitics with a few close pals.


The accompanying photo has Bush tossing back a cold one. The drink, Buckler beer, was non-alcoholic, the White House said.

Searching Google for "Buckler beer," I found their site Here's how they describe their product:

A beer with full taste but no alcohol, a beer for every occasion and hour of day and night. A blond, light beer, made of natural ingredients and brewed through a special fermentation process that ensures mature beer taste with only 0,5 % alcohol content.

Yeah, okay, fine. One-half of one percent, you say. But that's still alcohol. A man who publicly admitted he has a problem with the stuff is drinking booze. Even when he said he quit after he turned 40. Hypocrisy aside, "no-alcohol" beer is a nasty swill that carries the aroma of beer to fool the drinker into thinking s/he's getting the real stuff. Makes me wonder if Bush was just trying to fit in with the boys by knocking back a cold one, if he was desperate for a tiny fix, or if he thinks he can dance on the edge of falling off the wagon.

Maybe this means nothing to you, but I grew up in an alcoholic family with a boozing dad. Something about Bush thinking he can get away with not drinking while having a quasi-beer sets alarm bells off in my head...a sad, reckless man hooked on a drug and someone who lies to anyone (including himself) to show he can keep on the straight and narrow.




On the road to nowhere

Woke up to find out, in the typically vague U.S. terror alert kind of way, that my town (Seattle) is a harbor for dangerous al Qaeda cells, which can activate at any time and cause all sorts of damage. Oddly, the traffic on the way to work this morning was light. And, hmmm, that news certainly drove all the talk of Harken and Halliburton from being the lead story on the news, didn't it? Well, maybe not in England.

Second, NPR aired a fascinating, yet depressing report on how HIV/AIDS will be a destabilizing factor around the world.

Speaking of HIV/AIDS, a sad sign o' the times in children's television.

That guy who videotaped the police beating a black teen also has been taken in by authorities for outstanding warrants. Right, the police just suddenly remembered these warrants were outstanding after this guy brought to light embarrassing footage of police brutality.

Cartoonist and writer Ted Rall has a lengthy, but rational column about how to win the "war on terrorism."

I'm going to be on the road and out of touch for a couple days. This weekend, wifey and I are driving up to see my folks in Vancouver, B.C. They're there as part of a train trip across Canada. I never been to Vancouver, so it'll be an adventure. Needless to say, I won't be updating for a couple days...Sunday evening, at the earliest.

Before I go, I just want to give a horribly belated shout out to my poet friend, Cori. She has a piece coming out in Seattle Review and another in the kids magazine, Cricket. She's, like, way cool and artistic and stuff.

On edit: 10 a.m., Seattle time. Salon.com has what may be a huge story about Bush and Harken. The bad news: you have to pay to read it. Full disclosure: I'm a paying member of Salon. Not a bad site, and their political stories and commentaries lately have been dynamite...stuff you won't find in other U.S.-based news media. The opening graf:


When President Bush sold more than 200,000 shares in Harken Energy Corp. in June 1990, he said he did not know the company was in bad financial shape. But memos from the company show in great detail that he was apprised of how badly the company's fortunes were failing before he sold his stock -- and that he was warned by company lawyers against selling stock based on insider information.


On edit: 3:30 p.m., Seattle time. Dangnabbit! Last update. In case you can't pony up the dough for Salon, this news site has the story for free. Enjoy.

Also

The French Word of the Day is taking the weekend off.

Making the breast of a bad situation

Story here

MOSCOW, Idaho -- Strictly from a financial standpoint, the topless carwash operated by Daisy Mace and her friends is a success. But civic leaders and rival carwash owners are seeing red, and are trying to shut down the sudsy spectacle.

Mace contends that the real problem is the City Council.

"Idaho state law says there is no difference between topless men and topless women," Mace, 22, said this week. "The councilmen are trying to impose their own morals."

Mace and her friends found themselves short of rent money recently and decided to hold a carwash to raise some. Spontaneously, they ripped off their shirts and found it wasn't bad for business.



Full disclosure: I worked in Moscow for a couple years as a reporter and editor and the issue of topless women in town isn't a new one. It's something that blooms when the weather turns warm, like flowers or hay fever. Still, stories like this is awfully good for a laugh.

I can't comment on the differences between men's and women's chests, but I have to agree that there is a serious social taboo on female toplessness. The puritan urge to hide the sensual flesh of the female bosom has been burned into the American psyche for ages. And while you can see women in bikinis and in tight running outfits everywhere, there's still that final taboo of public nipple exposure. Society, I think, well...let's make that men, want to make sure the "purity" of a woman is intact. For some reason, having a topless woman in public would defile that idea of a "pure" woman. (You can have them in strip clubs, though. That's just fine.) Instead, a topless woman is flaunting her sexuality. I think men/society think that a semi-nude woman would be open to public molestation, akin to what you can see in this photo taken during the recent Seattle Mardi Gras violence. (Note on edit: The woman was not originally topless; her clothes were torn off)

Plus, a topless woman is a free one, and a free woman scares some men. Free goes against control, which subverts law, religion and the lingering wisdom that women are the weaker sex.

As for not having a business license, duh. Who would approve a business license for a topless car wash in Idaho? I mean, it's Idaho. What the women are doing is a clever social commentary while making a few bucks on the side. Times are tough, and I applaud these women for staying abreast of money-making trends. Only a boob would put up so much fuss and I hope the women milk it for all they're worth.

Besides, if we can't have enterpreneurial women coming up with clever ideas for clothing-optional car cleaning, then the terrorists surely have won.

Insert Orwell quote here

Proof John Ashcroft is a dangerous control freak who must be yanked from office.

The opening grafs:


WASHINGTON - Many of the nation's businesses have long trolled through commercial databases hoping to divine which consumers are most likely to buy a particular luxury car or life-insurance policy. Now, the FBI hopes to explore the same information to uncover potential terrorists before they strike.

Attorney General John Ashcroft recently announced that the Justice Department was loosening its guidelines to allow FBI agents to, among other things, dig into the vast commercial treasure house of data on consumers' buying habits, preferences and traits.

Such databases often link a person and Social Security number to information such as whether she smokes; her clothing size; any arrest records; household income; magazine subscriptions; height and weight; contributions to religious, political or charitable groups; chronic health conditions like diabetes or asthma; the books she reads; and a host of other characteristics.


For the record: I'm a 38 waist. I wear black, baggy shirts. I have never been arrested. I subscribe to MacAddict and Utne Reader. I contribute to Amnesty International. My wife has asthma. I read mostly non-fiction; wife reads ghost novels. Oh, Mr. Ashcroft, we both don't like you. Put that on your little Nazi clipboard. You lost to a dead man in 2000 and you are an uptight fascist. Go fuck yourself and the Gestapo horse you rode in on.

What else is new?

For some reason, my blog editor freaked out and wouldn't let me add a link to the opening graf of my big post yesterday. It was about the markets going in the hole the day after Bush's big speech aimed at luring investors back into the water.

In other news, the markets are acting bipolar today, but it looks like it may end up being another crap day for investors.

Chaos theory

Chilling news from the AIDS conference in Barcelona. An explosion in orphans, parentless due to AIDS, is on the horizon. The question is, how do you care for a whole generation who has lost their parents?

India and China, two of the most populated countries in the world, are suffering from AIDS ignorance.

Again, I urge you to check out NPR's series on the AIDS conference. NPR's coverage of AIDS orphans and AIDS in China are top choices for listening.

Also

French word of the day: Espoir (ess-po'ahr): hope.

Evening Edition

Dick Cheney gets hit with a lawsuit regarding his days as head of the Halliburton energy company. Meanwhile, Bush's Homeland Security plan got sliced and diced in the House, the governmental body which also smacked down Bush's opposition giving pilots in the cockpit their own guns. (I must admit, I'm not sure about the last one: I'm not reassured to know my pilot may have a gun. Something about a firefight in a pressured cabin of an airplane at 35,000 feet going 600 miles per hour queases me out.)

If I was in the White House tonight, I'd be a bit bummed out...just hoping something comes along to lift my workplace out of the doldrums. After all, Sept. 11 boosted Bush from a sputtering dweeb to a crusader on a mission. The White House has to have a whole army of operatives trying to grease the spin to go their way. But getting friends to write nice op-eds for you only can go so far. Sometimes you need a big story to obscure the scandal in front you.

So, that said, it's time to pretend we're in Vegas. Let's bet what will happen next to wipe the current news off the headlines.

Distraction Betting Line

Invasion of Iraq.......................30-1
Cheney heart attack...............10-1
Terrorism alert.......................1-2
Old Clinton scandal revived.....3-1
Reagan dies.........................Even

Remember, this is an exhibition. No real wagering, please.

A little something to remember me by

In case you haven't heard by now, there's a sort of macabre custody battle going on involving the body of the late baseball great Ted Williams. His son wants to have Williams's body shipped to cryonics company in order to preserve the slugger's DNA for possible future resale. Meanwhile, Williams's eldest daughter is claiming she's fulfilling Williams's desire to be cremated and have his ashes spread over the Florida Keys, where he liked to fish. The legal battle is set to begin Friday.

In my mind, the son has it a bit backward. First, you don't need the whole body for DNA samples, just a few tissue, blood or hair samples. Second, just because you have the DNA doesn't mean you will produce an exact copy of Ted Williams. Williams was a great player, yes, but he devoted his heart and soul to the game, reportedly spending his off hours studying minute aspects of the game. Also, to get an exact copy of Williams as a superstar player, you'd have the impossible task of copying Williams's upbringing exactly. Plus, you have to have the child wanting to be a baseball player. If the child wants to be something else, like a teacher or an interior designer, forget about it.

And then there's the hidden, science-fiction aspect to this whole matter. Suppose the son gets his way, has dear ol' dad on ice and sells samples to buyers who wanted to breed the next Ted. Baseball is going through a fit right now in regard to steroid testing of players; just imagine if genetic enhancement entered into the game. 25 years from now, players would have to be tested to see if they have DNA templates of Jackie Robinson, Hank Aaron, Mickey Mantle or Ichiro in their veins. Would there be a separate league for enhanced players? Would there be lawsuits if a player was promised Wade Boggs code and got infused with some washout from the triple A league. Would there be an asterisk next to the names of enhanced players in the record books? What if a poor soul gets a Faustian bargain, a great career but with Lou Gehrig's fatal DNA? Would fans be able to live through their baseball idols, knowing they could never, without deep pockets and genetic tampering, be like them?

Words mean things

Picked this up from Eric Alterman's site at MSNBC.com. He, in turn, picked it up from the London Times.

The London Times
Diary
July 09, 2002

TONY BLAIR’s special relationship with George W. Bush is under considerable strain. Not only do the two disagree on Yassir Arafat’s tenure as leader of the Palestinian Authority, but Blair has started telling disparaging anecdotes about the President. Baroness Williams of Crosby recalled a story told to her by “my good friend Tony Blair” recently in Brighton. Blair, Bush and Jacques Chirac were discussing economics and, in particular, the decline of the French economy. “The problem with the French,” Bush confided in Blair, “is that they don’t have a word for entrepreneur.”

Like no business I know

I'm torn today. I want to talk a bit about Bush, but I'm trying to heed my own advice I wrote earlier in this blog about not wanting to turn into an anti-Bush rantblog, posting a bunch of links and adding half-assed partisan commentary, like Bartcop. However, reading all the coverage about Bush's big speech to Wall Street about shady business practices is just too much tempting a target. It's one thing to get harsh on Wall Street, but it's another to do so while being under investigation for your own improprieties when you were a bigwig at an energy company.

I suppose it's a bit of karmic justice to talk about faith and stability in the markets and then have those markets turn in a crap day (Dow down 178; Nasdaq off almost 25). Wall Street was less than impressed with Bush's remarks, even though they were the ones in the crosshairs. Reading the comments, I think I pieced together why.

During the '90s, it was rock 'n' roll capitalism and CEOs were allowed to be as bad as they wanted to be. Thanks to help from Congress (including the Democratic Senate under Clinton and, later, the Gingrich Revolution), companies were allowed to fudge the revenue numbers by removing the cost of stock options from the bottom line. You see, if the cost of the stock options were linked to the company's true expenses, the value of the company would be diminished. Profits wouldn't be so rosy, losing suitors for partners or takeovers. It was a yummy little scheme that had companies soar with profits while masking the debt that grew in the belly of the corporate beasts. In the go-go 1990s, when all you needed was an idea and a modem to make serious, but irrational amounts of cash, it was the impetuous to send the markets up like a rocket. P/E ratios read like hideous long-shots at the track, but people put companies like Pets.com, Enron, Priceline and others into their portfolios because they were THE NEW COMPANIES OF THE FUTURE and were making money hand over fist.

The problem was it was a house of cards, and you can only be so lucky and get so much good press for so long before the expenses came out of the closet. Investor faith crashed, the dotcoms vanished, larger companies - once stalwarts on the New Economy, were taking on water. And soon the accounting truth came to light. Wave after wave of companies, from Waste Management to WorldCom to Enron to Sunbeam to Global Crossing to who knows had to fess up and admit it cooked its books to look good. Workers who had faith in their company and invested their retirement in company stock watched in horror as their 401(k)s, that status symbol of the New Economy, erode in value. Meanwhile, their bosses raked in bonuses and other goodies. And, thanks to cable TV, we got to see it all unfold; a tragedy complete with a real-time stock ticker.

There were pundits and hearings and bewildered employees, armed only with blank stares and a box of hastily packed belongings, being led from their offices after being laid off because of greed at the top. There were whistleblowers, CEOs taking the fifth and more layoffs coming down the pipe. There were people who, once working, now had to struggle make their mortgage. And somewhere in the nation, the wife of a CEO mourned the nightmare of having to sell properties in Aspen.

Meanwhile, the truth was dawning that the corporate world and Wall Street were turning out to be no better than a crooked slot machine. And while no one was saying it, a foul shadow was invading the soul of America: Will my company be next? How can I plan for my future when the next company I invest in may implode? Why can Bush get away with filing stock sale forms late when anyone else would get in trouble? Did his dad help him out?

And I think that's why Bush's big speech, with his waggin' his finger at the foxes putting up their feet in the henhouse, didn't make anyone feel better. Not once did Bush mention anything about protecting the investor. No protection plans, no public redress, nothing. Yes, Bush did mention how important it was for CEOs to act properly, and how vital it was to have a well-paid watchdog to make sure the process of investing goes smoothly and honestly. Ironic, considering Bush was in front of an idea of curbing growth in the SEC just a few months ago. Amazing what a few corporate meltdowns will do for the soul of a president.

To be honest, investing the stock market has always been a bit of a caveat emptor mixed with a roll of the dice. Markets and businesses can grow and die within a few years (with the advent of the Web, that ground down to a few months). However, it's hard to believe that investors will trust the markets again after companies they thought were telling the truth ripped them off. Losing money in the market due to effects like weather or terrorism is one thing; losing your life savings because some CEO wanted to line his pockets is something far worse and damaging.

If there are no new safeguards installed to make companies pay back investors who lost money due to executive avarice, then people aren't going to be eager to put money in companies. Without money in the markets, you can kiss off the NEXT BIG THING in technology getting funded and off the ground. Without new companies off the ground, forget about new jobs, being an innovator in the global market and uptick in consumer spending (leading, of course, to other companies expanding, hiring new workers, buying new equipment) and so on. I'm not saying the world will come to an end if the public doesn't invest in the Dow; it just won’t go anywhere soon. So, here we are. Stuck and stagnant with an economy puttering along and a war on the horizon in Iraq. Sound familiar?