I Mess With Texas, Part 7

Yes, sirree bob, this is a bumper crop of a state. Not a few weeks ago they were struggling with the earth-shattering freezing temperature of 24, and now, the place is on fire.

I'm completely sympathetic with the so-far four people who've died. That's a bad way to go, and to lose your home and only be able to rescue photos -- terrifying and horrific. And now I have to worry about my family, because the flames are coming towards Austin.

But you know what? If I ever had any worries that I might be wrong that Texas is somehow a great state, they've long been laid to rest. And why?

From one of the above articles:

Severe drought set the stage for the fires, which authorities believe were started mostly by people shooting off fireworks, tossing cigarettes or burning trash in spite of bans imposed because of the drought. A fallen power line apparently started one Oklahoma blaze.

It's dry as a bone out, hun! Let's entertain ourselves outdoors! With sparks and flames! That sounds like fun! Woooooooo-whee! And that little ciggie you were smoking? Just crush it out underfoot. Or better yet, toss it in that trash bin. Yippie-ki-yay!

And what's the fine for ignoring a burn ban? Most I saw was $500. What a wonderful Republican-led place! With such focused, incisive minds!

If the slogan of this state is currently "it's like a whole other country," then y'know what? I think it's time to cut it free. Issue passports. Institute immigration status. Better yet: Let Mexico have it back again. This place is an embarrassment.

I Mess With Texas, Part 6

When I was in high school, I took an amazing course: History of Religion. For a public high school in a non-Bible belt state, this was pretty revolutionary. But as was pointed out to us by our teacher -- the love-her or hate-her Mrs. Penn -- it wasn't about religion. It was about studying the history of how religion developed.

It was one of the most interesting classes I took. You were required to attend two religious services not your own, so I got to sit in on a Catholic mass and a Quaker meeting (after which I met David Byrne's mother and had some of her banana bread!) and bring in someone to discuss your religion. If they started to preach, though, they'd have to leave. It was brilliant, and spurred my interest in studying the origins of religion -- I minored in it in college. And I'm not a particularly religious person.

That said, this fries my weenies. At what point did Bible Study become an OK elective course? The "National Council on Bible Curriculum in Public Schools"? At what point did that happen? And more importantly, the main text to be studied "promoted creationism and taught that the Constitution was based on Scripture."

Please. Everyone mess with Texas, immediately. Few states have needed such messing around with before.

From the NY Times:

December 22, 2005
Texas District Adopts Disputed Text on Bible Study
By BARBARA NOVOVITCH

Correction Appended

ODESSA, Tex., Dec. 21 -Trustees of the Ector County Independent School District here decided, 4 to 2, on Tuesday night that high school students would use a course published by the National Council on Bible Curriculum in Public Schools for studying the Bible in history and literature.

The council is a religious advocacy group in Greensboro, N.C., and has the backing of the Eagle Forum and Focus on the Family, two conservative organizations.

The vote on the disputed textbook, for an elective Bible study course, has not ended the matter. Critics say the book promotes fundamentalist Protestant Christianity.

The district superintendent, Wendell Sollis, said Wednesday that he had recommended the textbook over a newer one by the Bible Literacy Project, published this year through the Freedom Forum and an ecumenical group of scholars and endorsed by a group of religious organizations.

"I felt like the National Council was a better fit for Odessa, because they're on several campuses here in Texas and because of their longevity," Mr. Sollis said.

David Newman, a professor of English at Odessa College, said he planned to sue the district because the curriculum advocated a fundamentalist Christian point of view.

The school board president, Randy Rives, said of the curriculum, which uses the King James Version of the Bible: "If you're going to teach something, it's better to use the source. I have complete confidence that we can teach this within the parameters of the law."

Professor Newman said, "If the beliefs of others don't match theirs, then the beliefs of others are irrelevant."

Last summer, the Texas Freedom Network, which promotes religious freedoms, asked a biblical scholar at Southern Methodist University, Mark A. Chancey, to examine the council course. Dr. Chancey said it had factual errors, promoted creationism and taught that the Constitution was based on Scripture.

A district trustee here, Carol Gregg, said she favored the Bible Literacy Project because it was "more user friendly toward teachers" and "more respectful of minority and majority" religious views.

Unlike the competing curriculum, it mentions several versions of the Bible.

Correction: Dec. 24, 2005, Saturday:

An article on Thursday about a Texas school district's adopting a course published by the National Council on Bible Curriculum in Public Schools for studying the Bible in history and literature misstated the position of Focus on the Family, a conservative Christian group. Focus on the Family has not endorsed the council or its Bible curriculum.

Happy Hanukkah! Merry Christmas! Happy Solstice!

Ciara wishes everyone, including Lois, Larry, Craig, Kris, Sydney, Julia, Lynda, Rebecca, Valerie, Alexis, Jerry, Joey, Michael, Darron, Alan and all of their attendant family members a very happy spirit of the day. She herself is demonstrating the true spirit of the season with her newfound "friend," Allie the Alligator, who soon will be going to Croc Heaven. That true spirit being....


Rending, tearing, ripping


Dismemberment and gouging of eyes


And sheer, exhaustive joy.

Happy freaking holidays!

Merry Duranmas to all, and to all a good night

One of the better holiday gifts I've gotten so far is here.

Duran Duran wish you a merry holiday -- and let you mix their lyrics.

Deeply cheesy, and that's what it's all about. On first seeing the photo, I thought Robert Palmer had gotten revenge on his former Power Station bandmates by making them -- and their fellow Durans -- dress all alike, a la his music videos, but then I had a different cognitive dissonance moment: They're all holding guitars. Even Roger, who you never seen outside his kit. And who looks like he has a cramp. Even Nick, who here appears to be playing a mandolin of some sort. I wonder if they had to photoshop it, or if they all actually posed. Yes, I think of these things. And then I go mix songs.

Elsewhere, the strike is over! I now get to see what the world is like outside my apartment. The last few days, the time has just sped by in a blend of meals, soaps, staring at the computer, working, interviewing (hey, it's not incidental that I got Chris Noth and Vincent D'Onofrio to call me at my house, heh heh, love the gig), editing, and fighting to get my VOIP to work 24/7. Somewhere, Earthlink seemed to think it was optional. It's much less so when you've got to work from home. So, I don't heart VOIP as much as I once did.

But I digress: The strike is over! Now we all get to reappreciate the joys, the smells, the touches, and the weirdness of the NYC subway, all over again. Yay!

There is power in a union

So, yeah. These were the options today, at least if you live where I do:

1) Get a ride with someone from work. You have to fit 4 people in the car, and the guy says he has to be in the office by 8:30 in the morning and you know it's going to be nightmarish with traffic, and plus if he gets in at 8:30 he probably has to leave by around 4:30 in the afternoon .... etc.

2) Walk about 15 blocks to the commuter train connection. (Commuter trains are running.) Squeeze on. Exit at 34th Street. Walk about 30 blocks south to work. End of day, rinse and repeat.

Neither was particularly savory, and I'm sympathetic with anyone who had to go through it. (There was a sense of camaraderie and novelty to the day, based on what I saw on the news; a group had even set up free coffee on the end of the Brooklyn Bridge for the walkers -- kind of like what happened on 9/11, without the horrific terrorist tragedy element.) Mercifully, I have bosses who are sane and understand there's no point in my going into the office under those conditions -- so I get to work from home. Today, tomorrow and probably until the end of the week, assuming this continues (And I think we should assume in this case.) If it goes into next week, well -- then we'll see. In any case, I got to do my interviews and get email and check email and do pretty much whatever I had to do ... all from the comfort of my home desk. Sweet!

The only downside: Sometime around 8pm, my VOIP went down. Apparently it's a nationwide issue. Earthlink is on the case. Achem. You can find this out for yourself, if you're willing to hang on the phone for a half hour. So anyone trying to call, this is why you can't reach me! Even though I'm home! Sigh.

Woof!

Ciara sends her love.



Though not to the chew toy.



And she wants to know when dinner starts.

I Mess With Texas, Part 5

I forgot one more excellent reason to mess with Texas.

Tom DeLay.

Apparently the House majority leader, currently facing some legal troubles of his own, has engineered some others that the Supremes are now taking into consideration. From this New York Times article:

Supreme Court to Review Texas Redistricting Dispute
By DAVID STOUT

WASHINGTON, Dec. 12 - The United States Supreme Court agreed today to review the constitutionality of the Texas redistricting plan that was engineered by Representative Tom DeLay, the House majority leader until recently, and helped Republicans add to their majority from the Lone Star State.

The justices will consider several lawsuits by Democrats and minority groups challenging the redrawn maps of voting districts pushed through in 2003. The redistricting has been credited with helping Republicans gain five more seats in the Texas delegation to the House of Representatives in 2004, increasing the Republican ranks to 21, compared with 11 Texas Democrats.

Today's announcement by the Supreme Court comes 10 days after the Justice Department acknowledged that some of its top officials had overruled a determination by the agency's civil rights division staff in 2003 that the redistricting plan would dilute the voting strength of minorities in violation of the Civil Rights Act of 1965.

Because after all, once you're in charge the first thing you want to do is solidify that death-grip on the system, so that you can always and forever, amen, keep yourself in charge. Even when you have to know that means calcification, oligarchy, and despotism. Get rid of the challenge, rather than make your constituents better off. Nice work!

**************

Unrelated, though not entirely: Caution to all who decide to re-gift. If you re-gift, oh, say, a large ticket item that includes storage devices, then pass it off as a brand-new present, do erase your old "tests" on the machine first. Because, you see, if you don't, those "tests" have storage dates. And they can be seen once they're downloaded. And then the person you gave the item to, who believed it to be new, will realize it is in fact over a year old and therefore likely something you bought for yourself, didn't care for, and are now pawning off. The gift is generous, the spirit behind it is less so. At the very least, announce it as a re-gift. The basically brand-new nature of the item, plus the large-ticket price, isn't a problem (in my book). Not revealing it as a re-gift, however, is deceitful.

Those who know what I'm talking about will also know the connection to Texas on this one.

Rockinghorse People Eat Marshmallow Pies

Thanks to everyone who came! A marvy, and messy-chocolatey time was had by all. Oh, and there was vodka. My, was there vodka.

I Mess With Texas, Part 4

My brother is in Austin, Texas. According to Mom, he says the house is so big "you could get tired walking from the living room to the front door." My SIL arrived Tuesday with Syd in tow. Mom and Larry get there Sunday.

From a newsgroup today:

"It got below freezing around noon. We've had about a 1/4 of freezing rain/sleet/snow. Big emergency. More than 100 auto accidents. School in the city delayed by two hours in the morning, and more parochial and rural schools are closed. Many staples were stripped from the shelves in the local store by 4 p.m. It might get as cold as 24 F before morning. In Austin this is major winter storm disaster."

24. Degrees. Above zero. Ninnies. Put down some damn salt.

Other version here.

God, it's so obvious, and mean, but I'll say it: Hell does freeze over. And we're supposed to tremble at the greatness of the stateness of Texas?

Snow shark!

More of these wonderful things here.

No, that's not the most preoccupying thought in my head at the moment (that would be Saturday's anxiety-inducing party, with attendant fountain activity), but it'll do for now.

Something I was thinking of recently:

While living in London in the early 1990s, I came across several things which appeared quaint, many which seemed advanced, and some of which were brilliant but utterly unlikely to ever appear in the U.S. These latter included:

1) Galaxy and Cadbury bars (subhead: Those little Christmas-era baskets of samplers, called "Promises" and suchlike)
2) Prepaid phone cards
3) Train notifications in the subway
4) OK! magazine
5) Use of slang like "shite" and "sketchy" and so forth in regular non-Brit conversation

Anyway, so much for my predictor status. All of those are here now. I just find it interesting that Britain was ahead of the technologically-advanced (achem) U.S. in various important (well, OK! Magazine aside) ways.

Boy, I gotta get back over there.

I Heart VOIP

Okay, so they say all good relationships have some push-pull, some arguing, some long phone conversations. I've had all of those with Earthlink and their Voice Over Internet Phone in the past month.

Today, we connected Ethernets and made up. I now have a working, incoming phone again. I can dial by clicking a button on a Web page. I can forward my calls. I can block numbers I don't want to hear from. And I have this, plus more, for $15 per month for 500 minutes.

Now, I just need to figure out how to get my newsgroups back.

Snow Day

This may be the second snowfall of the season (while I was in Maryland I think some may have fallen), but it's the first for me. For some reason I got up early today and was a little startled to see snow (I didn't know it was coming), but pleased. The dog isn't happy, but we went out for our morning (::achem::) constitutional and it was so early everything was still in that half-formed peaceful mode, the quiet and stillness about as complete as you get in this neighborhood on any given day. And it's still coming down, gently.



In unrelated but welcome good news that has no bearing on anything in particular except if you want to make a 411 call for free, here's a new service: 1-800-FREE-411. You might hear a 12-second ad, but it's not painful, apparently. I haven't used it, but Snopes is king of all, and they have this to say about it.

Snow and free calls! Works for me.

I Mess With Texas, Part 3

Or, more accurately, McSweeney's does.

"Socially Awkward Situations In Which It Would Be Acceptable to Mess With Texas"

My favorite:

Texas demonstrates little respect for "personal space."

Hee.

Thanks, Paul!

Testing, Testing, 1 2 3 -- 10!

I don't usually post the results of these things, but I am happy to know that a) I get to continue being a citizen and b) I aced the "test" on the web. Phew. This'll keep the NSA agents away a little longer.

You Passed the US Citizenship Test

Congratulations - you got 10 out of 10 correct!

Could You Pass the US Citizenship Test?

Then and Now

From a school cafeteria in Gaithersburg High School to a Denny's in Montgomery Village, it is nice to know you can still hang out with some of your best girlfriends over pancakes.


May, 1987


November, 2005

Call it Reality and the Suburbs, rather than Sex and the City.

Elsewhere:

This is what happens when you don't bring your digital camera to Halloween -- you don't get everyone else's pictures until Thanksgiving. You can never have too much Sydney, my Jumpy Monkey. At least, I can't.


Credit where it's due: I made this one, but the idea for the cannibalistic pumpkin can be found here.


Taking a gander


As Minnie Mouse. Kinda.

What a turkey

So, the good news is it was just a 12 hour bug, and that it happened the day before Thanksgiving, rather than the day of. I was so sick for those 12 hours, though, that even seeing food on the TV was making me want to retch. So I got on the sofa around noon (having had to leave a hair appointment early; at least she got to finish the trimming, or I would have had a half-cut head of hair) and didn't budge until "Law & Order" shut off. It was a nasty, nasty day, though I'm now well caught up on "MASH" reruns, "General Hospital," VH1 Classic Super 70s videos, and "Bull Durham." Also Oprah, who is giving away homes to 50 Katrina victim families. Say what you will about her personally, but she does things with her money that I'd like to think I would do if I had that kind of dough. Someone in my family groused that she should do it anonymously, but the point is: When Oprah does something, millions of others contribute. She bought the houses, but set up a gift registry on her Web site so people could donate household goods; another $5 million came in that way. She may be a bit self-aggrandizing, but she can have that, if the good she does comes out this way.

OK, a bit more on Oprah there than I meant to contribute.

Anyway, speaking of saintly things, I mainly wanted to point out to the 2.5 regular readers I might have here that "Angels We Have Heard Are High" will be starting up at one of my favorite other blogs, "Going Jesus." Head on over there starting this Sunday; meanwhile, be sure to check out the wonderful kitsch at "The Passion of the Tchotchke" and "Cavalcade of Bad Nativities." Marvelous!

UPDATE: "Angels We Have Heard Are High" will be located here. For those keeping score and all.

Living, in progress

An update: The last house I pictured here of the house I thought mom had bought was, in fact, a model. This is the latest update. They're having theirs built from the ground up. Which explans the apocalyptic landscaping. At least it looks like they're going to have sidewalks. I'm just anti-design which dictates that the garage has to be half the length of the house itself. Can we not just dig an underground basement and park that sucker away where nobody has to think about it?

Another great picture:



Lynda makes the Baltimore Sun! (They're watching the great new Robert Greenwald documentary, "Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price." I sent it to my mom, who couldn't access the link, but apparently realized the article had something to do with Lynda and Wal-Mart. The response? "I thought she hated Wal-Mart!" So much to explain, so little time.

I like the picture because everyone looks like they're pretending so hard not to be aware that they're having their picture taken. Except for the woman on the far left. She's totally goofing on it.

The Towering Inferno

Mom hit the jackpot this year. Best. Birthday present. Ever. (And bonus points for its only semi-practical nature, since you can't just fire up the choco-fountain every day for the hell of it. Well, you could, but if I did I'd just sit on the couch until I was 480 pounds and had to be moved off of it with bits of fiber sticking to me. Eww.)

(No, that's not the exact one she sent, but it's close. And it will be used very shortly at a party. And yes, I'm sure this is to the '00s what cheese fondue was to the '70s, but I don't care. It's chocolate. Melted chocolate. Dippable melted chocolate in an appealing presentation format. OMFG.)

That was a digression. Anyway, mom wins for this year, and for anybody who didn't even send me a bloody email (and you know who you are, people), no chocolate for you.

Pretty in pink

Sydney Renee is two! And J.C. Penney portrait photos have captured three of her most endearing moods:


Trippy Happy


Mildly Terrified (and/or) Embarrassed


Playing With Chapstick

Happy Birthday Beautiful Niece!

Welcome back, Potter

Went to see the new Harry Potter film today, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire."

I enjoy these films; they're usually visually beautiful, they're all full of English people, and I dig that a whole generation of kids are learning great phrases like "taking the mick(ey)" and "brilliant" and "piss off." The anglophile in me rejoices.

I've read the first four books, and tend to read the next in line close to when the film's coming out. I enjoy them. They don't fascinate me and I don't adore them the way some do -- like the screaming teenage (girls, mostly) who were crushing one another outside the Zeigfeld theater tonight (one held a sign saying she'd been there since "six," and since it was 3:30 in the afternoon, that's a bloody long wait) and screaming every time a tinted-window car drove up. When an actor from the film actually emerged, it was near pandemonium. One police fence was nearly bending over under the crush.

So, looking forward to the film, it's fun to see with real fans and kids, and it was nice to watch. I enjoyed it, as I knew I would. The problem with any of the Potter films, of course, is that they'd really be better served by a mini-series, particularly the latter ones. There's so much information in the books, so much plot and goings-on that it'd be nice to actually have one of these films breathe. This one was two-and-a-half hours (!) and still left out a lot. And the woman I sat next to, who co-edits the fan site "The Leaky Cauldron," seemed to agree. That said, I felt a bit like a cheat for just enjoying it while -- towards the end -- audible snifs could be heard around me. I mean, anyone who's read the book (and that's anyone in that theater) knew what was coming, yet -- snifs! Good for them.

All of that said, watching the film reminded me of two other things which routinely annoy me about the whole series.

No. 1: Despite having saved the school multiple times, despite having killed off (well, or so it seemed) the Most Evil Wizard Ever, He Who Shall Not Be Named, despite basically being a self-effacing, slightly geeky, uber-nice guy who would otherwise blend into the tapestries, every single book and movie seems to be populated with a school of people who have no memory of Harry Potter's prior good acts. Or that he always triumphs and is vindicated. Or that he will do something like risk his own life for his friends. Nope: In "Goblet," for example, immediately everyone -- including his best male friend, Ron -- assumes the worst of him when his name comes out of the cup, despite that they know it isn't physically possible. Ron turns on him. The schoolkids wear "Harry Stinks" badges (another Brit word I'm hoping gets picked up here). Snape still accuses him of stealing from the potions cabinet. It's as though all of the accomplishments of the previous books mean nothing, and that's not only frustrating, it feels like bad plotting. We know we're building to a conclusion in just one more book; why aren't the books showing us character development beyond the three main friends?

No. 2: Ths is the one that would probably get me beaned with the Goblet by fans, but the truth is, Harry's not really much of a hero. He has his moments -- the whole saving two people at the risk of his own life, etc. -- but the thing is, Harry doesn't act. He is acted upon. He shows up, and is put upon, pushed around, given advantages or help by friends, and just kind of buffets along. I thought about this again when I flashed by "The Wizard of Oz" on TBS this evening: Dorothy acts. She may get blown not by her own accord into Oz, but she gets up and immediately starts taking action. She has a goal, she wants to get out. She helps people along the way by taking action, and when there's a bucket of water, she flings it. If Harry Potter was blown into Oz, he'd sit around until Glenda led him by the hand to the Scarecrow, and the Scarecrow would urge him to go to the Emerald City, and so on. Harry's remarkably passive (I'm sure there are exceptions, but this is an overall take). Hermione and Ron are the actual heroes here, they do things and think things and get things done and seem to have emotions. Harry is just there.

No. 3: I just thought of my third problem, but this is more of a projection: I'm really, really, really worried this is all going to end up as another "Star Wars" -- namely that Harry will somehow be Voldemort's son. I worry about that, because then I'm really going to feel I wasted my time on this series. Not that it's a bad story turn -- but, you know, done.

Keeping an Eye On Things

For some reason, I'm iffy about camping (though getting better) while I love watching other people in survival situations. And nobody entertains me better than Les Stroud, who I discovered accidentally a few months ago on The Science Channel, with a show called "Survivorman." Who knew The Science Channel even existed? (And no, it's not the same as Sci-Fi Network.)

The setup is this: The guy strands himself in any number of remote locations with minimal equipment (plus his own cameras) and has to survive for a week. Mostly, he'll get picked up as he walks to civilization, but the one I'm in the middle of watching right now where he's stuck in the Costa Rican jungle, he says he's not getting rescued. Oy.

He's not like Mr. Iron Man/Mountain Man. He's a pretty regular looking guy and has no problem pointing out to us where he's not doing so hot (this episode has him with an infected toe from a blister gotten while hiking), and you gotta feel for the guy -- a lot of the time he barely eats for all 7 days, because food is so scarce. But what's really inspiring is to see how he takes care of business, whether that's creating a shelter, making a fire, finding and catching and cooking food, and at last, escaping. I'm fascinated, and I wish the shows weren't only an hour long. Thus far there only appear to be ten of them, but I'm hoping he'll make more. Or put these on DVD. Anyway, I now have a huge investment in, of all things, the Science Channel.

Go Les!

I Mess With Texas, Part 2

Clearly, this is going to be easier than I thought.

3) Neal Pollack is leaving Austin.

Though we only ever shared an email or two (he was whinging on his blog about not getting enough freelance, I contacted to see if we could work something out, he then got a gig -- which apparently is now taking him to LA), having someone with his attitude and smarts and cool factor was always a big plus. I could actually say I "knew" someone there. (Heh.) And now, he's going. In part, he says:

(L)ast night's election had nothing to do with my decision to leave Austin and move to Los Angeles, which was made months ago, but I certainly feel glad about my decision today....

He then notes:

Texas is largely misunderstood by the rest of the country. It's far more cosmpolitan, well-educated, and sophisticated than people might think, given the corrupt religious hypocrites it's sent onto the national stage in recent years. But because of those hypocrites, if anyone is going to fully audition the radical right's loony social agenda, it will be the government of this state. Today, someone said to me, "at least you don't live in Kansas." True enough. But who's to say that in 10 years, when my son is preparing to enter high school, the schools here won't be teaching "intelligent design" as well? I'm not taking that risk with my family.

A-fuckin'-men. My poor niece.

Administrative Alert

Anybody trying to call me at home, I'm not going to have home phone service until November 28.

Don't even ask: The evilness will be explained once I'm calmer.

Anyway, call my work number or send me an email in the interim if you need me.

That is all!

I Mess With Texas, Part 1

So, since the family units are moving there before the end of the year, and when confronted with the alarm that is most people's response to "We're moving to Texas" they seem, well, baffled, I'm going to start compiling a list of reasons why the place sucks. I will, therefore, be messing with Texas.

In no particular order:

1) Voters Reject White Settlement Name Change

1a) The fact that the story's lead (from NBC in Dallas/Fort Worth) is: "Residents held on to their heritage Tuesday night and voted against changing their town name to West Settlement, despite proponents' arguments that the name has racial connotations."

That's right! Heritage above all! I'm all in support for Cracker, Minnesota. And Honkytown, Illinois works, too.

2) Texas Voters Approve Ban on Gay Marriage

Unconstitutional assholes.

Continuing....

Lies, Damn Lies, and Half-Truths I've Heard Recently

1) Back in the 1960s, when she declined to give her seat up to a white man, Rosa Parks infuriated a lot of black people. They were happy as things were and didn't need the civil rights movement.

2) Homeless people want to live on the street. That's why they're there.

3) Because Roe v. Wade hasn't been overturned, free and legal abortion is available to all in the United States.

As they say, denial ain't just a river in Egypt.

For more on No. 3: Go to Salon.

Fall comes to Jackson Heights

Mentioned in today's NY Times Real Estate section and the leaves turned! It's been a good weekend here, even though it won't last. Some images:










These birds were simply pissed at some other bird, which had dived for cover into this bush. In fact, the one looking at camera now still seems pissed.

Being a footnote

Over at Lynda's blog, a discussion has sprung up about the people surrounding the Rosa Parks story. And I'm intrigued. I think there's a whole one-act play in what it was like to be the bus driver who harrassed her, or the white man who wanted her seat. I mean, if you're one of those guys, is that something you want known? Do you tell your kids? And if so, is it with pride? Or is this a secret shame?

Who were those guys?

The driver was James Blake. According to a quote in the Wikipedia entry, he was only following orders. Here's a bit more on how his role in history is interpreted.

I'm left thinking of my all-time favorite Demotivator (pictured above).

Tea throwers = terrorists

And it's funny because it's true: If Fox News had been around throughout history.

It's what's for lunch

I feel like I must be 5 years old again. For lunch today I had soup and jello. Well, either 5 or sick (six? heh) but I'm neither.

That said, no 5 year old would consider slurping on Karen's (local restaurant) squash-and-coconut soup concoction (which is amazingly yummy), so I think that excuses things.

In any case, it was a colorful lunch, in a clashing way: The soup was brownish-squashy, and the jello was ... well, lime. Electric radiation-spill lime.

Yum.

My name is Michael Caine

There are real perks to the gig. Last night's came after running through the remnants of Wilma storming through town, following a decent movie called "The Weather Man," just beyond a lovely dinner eaten while overlooking Columbus Circle as the rain streamed down the great glass wall and made New York look like a Matisse painting: I got to meet Michael Caine. (Sir Michael Caine, if you go in for that sort of thing.) And he was completely lovely. Not only did he get up from his table to stand and talk with me away from the others, not only did he have a nice warm firm handshake, but he actually made and held eye contact.

I told him "The Man Who Would Be King" was an all-time favorite. "It had a good director," he grinned.

Told me about why he had a beard: He's filming a role in London (for "The Prestige") that requires it.

We discussed his role in "The Weather Man," which is supporting. But he's a grandfather whose grandkids call him Pop-pop, which is a name I've never heard any grandparent called except my own, so I was touched. We talked about that.

He talked about doing smaller roles, and why that's just fine: Having to basically self-promote "The Quiet American" a few years back, when Miramax went full-guns for Oscars on "Gangs of New York" rather sapped him, so commanding a picture is a little more than he's up for these days.

And then I asked what he really thought of the remake of "Alfie" (since the director told me Caine had given him approval of it), and in essence he was most diplomatic, and I agreed: Caine said that his version of Alfie in the 1960s was a seducer who was really quite an innocent, and by the end of the picture, his last line is "what's it all about?" meaning that he's questioning the universe now. But -- and he qualified this by saying he quite likes Jude Law, which I also agree with -- he said "when Jude Law shows up on the screen in that first minute, you know he's someone who's seen everything, and who knows everything already." So there's no curve, no arc, and it's a static picture.

And then I shook that warm firm hand again and headed off to dessert, buzzing.

Walking on the moon

It's taken a week for the whole thing to go up online elsewhere, so I've been waiting, but this is what I was up to last Sunday afternoon: The MP3 experiment 2.0, brought to all of us by ImprovEverywhere.

Absolutely surreally incredible. Once alerted to the event, all you had to do was download an mp3, not listen to it, then bring it with you on an iPod or a CD you'd burned to Sheep's Meadow in Central Park. At or near 3pm, a man would walk to the center of the field with a bullhorn and announce "one minute," and then he counted down with a few seconds to go. At that time, you were to start the mp3 and do what it said. And what it said, among other things, was to stand and wave at all your new friends, wave up at the sky at "Steve," walk like a zombie, bust a move, and then everyone was divided into four groups who all followed a new "leader." Our leader was an astronaut, who had us walk on the moon and plant American flags. (That's me in the picture above, in the red jacket. We're moon walking. I look larger than expected, which I suppose is, conversely, expected.) Anyway, then all four groups faced off in a rock-paper-scissors competition (the bees won) and we were all "Graduated" by being given small blowup beach balls, which we triumphantly tossed in the air. In the middle of all of this, anyone in Sheeps Meadow who didn't have the mp3 was wonderfully, baffingly, amused at seeing 200 or so people zombie walk across the grass. I can only imagine what they thought. As we all dispersed to Bethesda Fountain to the tune of "Saturday in the Park" by Chicago, it was impossible to get rid of the totally silly grin on your face. A marvelous effort. And so very, very New York.

Since then I've been a little busy but have encountered: An assumed (but not verified) man on stilts, walking down Broadway around 6pm on Wednesday evening. No circus spotted nearby, no reason for him to be there, yet, voila. Later in the week, a woman all in white danced in a religious frenzy throughout a mostly-empty subway car on the way home. In one direction she didn't say anything; the second time around she was muttering words for Jesus.

This place does keep you hopping.

Addendum: There's another mp3 experiment on October 26. Info here.

Caged heat

One consequence of having an adorable ball of fur which requires regular attention and maintenance is that when you're not there to do it, someone has to take over.

I have a perfectly good kennel I stash Ciara in when I go out of town: Mossland Kennel, which has been around since 1946, is family-owned, and has owners who write things out on 3x5 cards rather than type away on computers. And they're only $16 a night. Of course, there's always a but -- they're in College Point, which is officially a Pain in the Ass to get to. It's either $20 bucks or more each way with a car service, or it's a subway ride to the end of the line and then a bus another 10 minutes or so. I called the Pet Delivery car people; they'll charge $35 each way to pick Ciara up and drop her off. So it's down to me. Since the place is so cheap, I just factor it into the overall cost -- the car service, I mean -- and it's still cheaper than kennelling her anywhere else. Not like there are a lot of options: Queens, for some reason, has tons of dogs and no walkers and almost no kennels. (Compare viz. Brooklyn, where the dogs can come into restaurants.) I digress.

So I'm looking around and I learn that the Queens Animal hospital is within reasonable walking distance (or one stop on the subway) and only charges $20 a night. Around there is where the but begins: I took a quick tour and they're cramped compared to Mossland, plus being noisy, plus you're leaving your dog in an area where sick dogs might be, plus they're just ... a wee ... bit ... flaky. I went to have my tour, which I'd called about ahead of time and really only required about 5 minutes -- and waited about 45. Ok, par for the course, they have patients. I was still willing to give it a shot for the end of this month, when I'll be going home for a couple of days.

So I call: Oh, she'll need to be examined. I hear "ca-ching" and say, "Are you sure, because I spoke with the doctor" -- while I was there the doctor came out from seeing patients and gave me her card -- "and someone else on the phone and nobody ever said she'd need a checkup. She's caught up on her shots and I can have all of that information sent from her regular vet." So, fine, I talk the receptionist down from her high platform and call my doctor and off go the vaccine records, etc. I call back to make sure they've received them, and schedule Ciara to be taken in.

I get a call later. You can't bring her in; she has to be examined officially. Again: "ca-ching." The dog doesn't need an examination; she's well and healthy and up to date and has her own doctor. I feel fleeced, and I feel as though someone should have told me this ahead of time. Like, say, when I first called, or when I visited and sat around for 45 minutes. When I was finally told, it seemed like a policy nobody was really sure of, and that's why the receptionist backed down. All I wanted was for someone to tell me, "Hey, we messed up. Thing is...." and take a little responsibility. Instead, the yahoo who called me got all snippy and started getting into this meta conversation: She insisted the doctor could never have seen me when I came to visit, and furthermore insisted that the doctor would never have said she didn't need a checkup. This was not my issue: I wasn't trying to prove a positive (that the doctor told me she wouldn't need a checkup), I was trying to assert a negative (that I wasn't told about a checkup by anyone who should be in a position to tell me these things). But she kept going on in this very hostile manner, as if I had slandered the doctor, which made me hostile, when all I wanted was to be told that they'd erred. "I have the doctor right here with me and she swears she never met you." (Like, she would remember me how, exactly? From my name alone? I didn't even bring the dog when I came last time.)

I get very worked up sometimes for stupid, stupid reasons, and then have a hard time backing off. Particularly when I feel like I'm dealing with morons. So I finally asked: How much is the stupid checkup? $35. Familiar number. But I was so annoyed I just told them to forget the booking and I hung up. Doing the math, it'll actually cost me $15 more if I do the car service both ways to take Ciara to Mossland but you know what? That's where she's going.

A Place Called Vertigo

Talk about a bookended weekend; Friday night was all about the Who supporting a cause they felt was worthy: Samsung. Tonight, U2 came out to support a different kind of cause -- a gallery opening in Chelsea of photographer Anton Corbijn's work. You'd have to be in a hole not to know Corbijn, at least by his style: High-def, deep-grained (mostly) black and white portraits (and plenty of videos) for, among others, rock's reigning royalty: U2, REM, Depeche Mode. So not only was Corbijn coming to the opening, at the Stellan Holm Gallery on West 24th -- but so were the Edge and Bono.



I got there about a half hour into what was announced as a three hour event (no longer than 8pm, since the band (I think) are playing at Madison Square Garden). Since nothing ever starts on time, and certainly never starts on time when musicians are involved, I figured a half hour would make sense. In a way, I was right -- unlike the others who got there early, I only had to stand around about 15 minutes. (Some people had been there since 4:45. In another way, I was badly off, because the small area around the very small gallery was choked with people, and the bodyguards were getting testy. I asked where the press list was, and learned that the gallery was already too full to allow for more people. Since they were hardly the fire department, I located someone else in the press and asked if they had the PR woman's phone number. She didn't. I said, I did, if she had a cell phone. So we called PR woman and got ushered in. As Ferris might say, so choice.



Unfortunately, the gallery was quite small. There was a wide-ish open lobby area ringed with portraits; half of the room was clogged with the photo pit. Guards wouldn't let the group advance past the narrow hallway opening at the back, which led past offices and into the main gallery room, which was only marginally wider and pretty full. (I walked down the hall at one point looking for the can; I could have sworn I saw Dave Gahan, of DM, in one of the offices thumbing through a book.) I had it in my head (and had been told by the PR woman) that I could chat with the band for some quick quotes, and stayed up front in the photo pit. Hence, the photos I landed -- these are actually mine, mostly taken by holding the camera aloft over the heads of the real paparazzi.



I stood next to a redheaded woman with an MTV microphone, and a reporter from OK! magazine; someone from the competition also arrived (at least, I think she's with the competition, I've seen her before). There was grousing. And then everyone arrived in a flash of bulbs and a thrusting of the photographic pit. Lots of shouts of "Bono! To your right! Anton! Edge! Bono! To your left!" (Not me, by the way.)



In truth, I didn't think there was much point in pursuing the band for interviews; if it happened, great, amazing, fine. I mainly wanted to say hello to Corbijn, whose office I used to work in. When I was doing work-study in England in the early 1990s, my intership was with the music video firm State. That was where I met the Sundays, Ultra Vivid Scene, Inspiral Carpets and even Tina Turner -- worked on all their videos. That was where I also learned just how cliquish the whole thing was and how unlikely it was I would do it for a career. Still, it was fun. I only met Anton once -- he was always off doing scouting for a Depeche Mode video; this was just after his "Enjoy the Silence" clip was getting so much play. He came into the office one day, expansive and adorable, this Dutch whirlwind. He handed everyone a bottle of Champagne. Which I thought was The Coolest Thing Ever. So I wanted to re-introduce myself, thank him for the drink, and then get a few quotes.



That's Anton in the scarf, in case it's not completely obvious. He still has this open, friendly face, just less hair. But it was all not to be. After the band passed through the lobby and into the narrow hallway, word came back: They needed time to chill before interviews, so out to everyone other than interview press. (So I got to stay.) Then, about five minutes later: The band wants to see the exhibit, so everybody out. They'd invite us back in later.



After ten minutes of standing across the street with MTV Girl, nearly getting run down by traffic and Lizzie Grubman-ed out of existence, then watching some Famous Person with Curly Hair dash out of a black sedan to squeals and then into the gallery, I decided I had better things to do, and got cupcakes over at nearby Billy's. All in all, a decent evening.