Saturday, September 20, 2008
Senate Resolution 636: McCain's Cynical Trickery
There are new ads out urging voters to call and urge Sen. Barack Obama to stand up and support Senate resolution 636. What a crock of shit. This cynical piece of fluff is the brainchild of Sen. Joe "I'm In The Closet, Don't Bother Me" Lieberman and Sen. John "You Can't Question Me, I'm a Former P.O.W.!" McCain. And what does this landmark waste of time accomplish? It "acknowledges" the "success" of the almighty SURGE (that's an energy drink, isn't it?). Oh, yeah, and, um, while we're at it, let's add in a very special "thanks to the troops." The whole thing is a cynical, disgusting ploy to try and force Sen. Obama to "admit" that the surge has worked--which is only true in John McCain's head. Sure, the surge accomplished some military points, as even Obama admits; however, the purpose, or "goal" of the surge was to effect political stability and resolution between the various Iraqi factions. Mission not accomplished. McCain, who hasn't bothered to show up for work the last several months and has missed at least one truly important vote on alternative energy (it literally lost by one vote), had someone who can still actually function mentally--albeit in an evil fashion--come up with this idiocy as yet another unfair attack on Barack Obama. The Republican/Repugnant 527 group "Vets for Freedom" group are responsible for this horse shit. (How any intelligent vet could vote for a man who has done nothing but work against veterans is a never ending mystery to me. But these aren't intelligent vets, these are "Vets for Freedom." Yeah. Right.) How does it work? Well, if Obama doesn't vote for it or doesn't show up for the vote McCain and Dumbfuck, er, I mean Lieberman, will start howling that Obama hates the troops, doesn't appreciate the troops, is unpatriotic, and doesn't believe we should thank the troops for their service. How do these evil douche bags get away with this shit? It pisses me off to no end.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Oracle By Bike
I decided to turn a recent training ride into more of a mini-tour; I took photos, checked out the sights, did some geocaching, and had a generally good time. I was surprised by how many roadside "memorials" there are out there. This is essentially a 30 mile stretch of road, and as you can see, there are quite a few. There are also a couple of photos of a dead coyote with his tongue hanging out. You never saw that in The Roadrunner, did you? The other thing is the coyote gourds. I used to see all kinds of them along the way here. This time around I was surprised to only find one little patch with three ruined gourds in it. I did find a pretty nice patch on the other side of the road coming back, though. I grabbed four nice ones. The idea is to dry them out and then decorate them. I have brought them home before for the same purpose but Joan keeps throwing them away on me! Here are my pics from my "tour":
Thursday, September 4, 2008
WE Campaign Ad, "Free US" / Electric Cars
The folks over at We can solve it, the people who run the "We" campaign (of which I am a member) have a new ad out. [You can view it here]. It's called Free US. It kind of bugs me, though. It basically asks the government to act as a methadone clinic and do it all for us. It fails to really put the onus on us. Sure, it says "we demand," but we're not petulant children. Come on. If we really want change we have to actually start taking the steps. Conserve. Use alternative forms of transportation (public transit, walking, biking, etc.). Put our money where our mouths are and buy the most efficient vehicles available. Etc., etc. We can't just whine for the government to take responsibility for us and make everything A-OK. It just isn't going to happen. It hasn't yet. We've known this day was coming and we did nothing. We went blissfully along our way expecting the government to take care of it for us. Well, that doesn't happen. Washington has proven that over and over again. Their idea is to drill, drill, drill--supposedly in addition to developing the alternative energy sources they claim aren't yet ready for prime time. But all they will do if we allow this path is drill, drill, drill until there isn't anything left. And then they'll think about developing those alternatives they've been paying lip service to.
A good example is the electric car. According to Washington and Detroit, the technology isn't there yet. The batteries don't work. So on and so forth. Never mind that we had them once and they worked great. That doesn't count. All the people who drove them and loved them? Delusional. Mistaken. Washington, under the Bush administration, has been funneling money into Detroit for "research and development." Only problem is, there were no strings attached. They didn't actually have to produce anything beyond vaporware (i.e., Chevy Dolt...er...I mean Volt). Never mind that a company like Phoenix Motor Cars is already producing electric cars that are currently available and rated at over one hundred miles on a charge (two and a half what Chevy is promising from the I'llbelieveitwhenIseeit Volt). They go from 0-60 in 10 seconds, too. These aren't little tin cans, either. They're nice cars.
So what's Detroit's problem? I don't suppose it's something that rhymes with effin OIL. Hell, they can't even get their heads around higher CAFE standards, how do we expect them to actually do something good for America? There was a time, back before America stopped holding itself up to a higher standard, when this wouldn't have happened. At one point Detroit would have freaked if they knew foreign auto makers were producing better cars with higher mileage. They would have put out a car that outdid all of them. But those days are gone. Now they just whine and ask the government to increase import tariffs on foreign automakers and they cling to big trucks and SUVs because they can still be competitive there.
Why doesn't someone go into Detroit and say, "Look, people, fuck the Big Three. You have plenty of empty factories. You have plenty of unemployed auto workers. You have the skills and the know-how. Here's what we can do for you. Let's build some cars." Couple that with a government that's more inclined to support real alternatives rather than the status quo of the Big Three and Big Oil and it could be one hell of a revolution.
Vote accordingly.
A good example is the electric car. According to Washington and Detroit, the technology isn't there yet. The batteries don't work. So on and so forth. Never mind that we had them once and they worked great. That doesn't count. All the people who drove them and loved them? Delusional. Mistaken. Washington, under the Bush administration, has been funneling money into Detroit for "research and development." Only problem is, there were no strings attached. They didn't actually have to produce anything beyond vaporware (i.e., Chevy Dolt...er...I mean Volt). Never mind that a company like Phoenix Motor Cars is already producing electric cars that are currently available and rated at over one hundred miles on a charge (two and a half what Chevy is promising from the I'llbelieveitwhenIseeit Volt). They go from 0-60 in 10 seconds, too. These aren't little tin cans, either. They're nice cars.
So what's Detroit's problem? I don't suppose it's something that rhymes with effin OIL. Hell, they can't even get their heads around higher CAFE standards, how do we expect them to actually do something good for America? There was a time, back before America stopped holding itself up to a higher standard, when this wouldn't have happened. At one point Detroit would have freaked if they knew foreign auto makers were producing better cars with higher mileage. They would have put out a car that outdid all of them. But those days are gone. Now they just whine and ask the government to increase import tariffs on foreign automakers and they cling to big trucks and SUVs because they can still be competitive there.
Why doesn't someone go into Detroit and say, "Look, people, fuck the Big Three. You have plenty of empty factories. You have plenty of unemployed auto workers. You have the skills and the know-how. Here's what we can do for you. Let's build some cars." Couple that with a government that's more inclined to support real alternatives rather than the status quo of the Big Three and Big Oil and it could be one hell of a revolution.
Vote accordingly.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
More Culinary Adventures
Before I left on vacation we cleaned out the pantry and came across a lifetime supply of rice paper spring roll wrappers. Well, again, on the plane, I had a brainstorm. Peanut butter and jelly spring rolls! Well, I came home and decided I should give them a whirl.I mixed my Laura Scudder's natural crunchy peanut butter with some homemade plum jam (courtesy my friend Ken!) and dropped it into the moistened wrappers, folded them up, and voila! Peanut butter and jelly spring rolls.
And they were delicious.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Contemporary Modern Art
Part One, Defined.
I just spent a few days in La Jolla, California. While wandering the streets of La Jolla with my wife, we ventured into a handful of galleries. Many of these galleries proclaim themselves to be purveyors of fine Contemporary Modern Art. I started wondering exactly what this moniker actually meant. In the process I've decided on a sure fire way to identify if a piece of "art" is contemporary modern art or not. This method may not guarantee you will identify all art that is professionally labeled as "modern," but it will guarantee you that any art you personally identify as "modern" is, in fact, truly contemporary modern art.
If you are looking at a piece of "art" and the first thought in your head, the first words from your lips, are: What the F? You, my friend, are gazing upon Contemporary Modern Art of the highest order!
Since I just took off in a jet, I had the thought, in much the same way, most airplane crashes--for the passengers aboard anyway--almost always qualify as Contemporary Modern Art. Given the right situations we can go through life finding Contemporary Modern Art almost anywhere. Keep your eyes open for examples of this fine "found art" form. Anytime you catch yourself saying, or even thinking, "What the F?" just remember that you are in the presence of art.
Part Two, Nothing.
There's a big expanse of nothing. Lots of them, actually. Expanses. Of nothing. We never notice them, though, so we don't even realize they are there--be it in the comfort of our climate-controlled automobiles or sitting and sipping a cocktail in the pressurized cabin of a jet. Our every need is met and there is no challenge or hardship in travel. Maybe there should be. There certainly used to be. All of those homesteaders, miners, and pioneers could not stop off at the nearest exit, pull in to the Fast Foodplex Plus and grab a Starbucks and a triple cheeseburger with fries. Many of them never even made it due to disease, lack of water, even starvation or predation by other people. Imagine how much more we would appreciate our San Diego beach adventures if first we had to run a gauntlet of danger and duress, making our way of our own accord across hundreds of miles of open desert and rugged mountainous passes.
Looking down from 30,000 feet, club soda in hand and a book propped on my drop-down tray table, I see an odd strip of farmland. There in the deserts of western Arizona, large green circles spread out along the landscape in a swath of controlled lushness. Crops are grown in round fields to accomodate rotational sprinklers that pump water and turn in slow, lazy circles, creating unnaturally green dots across the desert. Some of these big green alien pies have a piece cut out, be it a sprinkler arm that goes back and forth in a three-hundred and forty degree arc, just short of a full circle, or some other unknown reason. Without irrigation nothing of use could grow here. Each lush green circle is an artifice. And that's the odd thing.
These "farms" stretch out for many, many miles in a narrow line that follows, presumeably, the Central Arizona Project (CAP), the water supply system that snakes over three-hundred miles across the state delivering Colorado river water to the farms and ever-growing cities of Arizona. You see these circles of varying shades of green and reddish tones, some brilliant green, some dull and nearly earthtone, stretching out. It's vastly long. But it's not wide.
As I said, this strip of farming circles goes for what seems hundreds of miles--it's so hard to judge distance from 30,000 feet in the air--but it can't be more than a quarter of a mile wide. I'd be surprised if it's that wide. And at the edges, this artificial greenery simply melts away and dissolves into rocky, rugged desert. The edges are literally fuzzy and indistinct. You look down upon this thing, this snaking spine of circular farmland; you see the narrowness of it, the crumbling edges being nibbled away by the voracious appetite of the awaiting desert; you look down and you say to yourself, "What the F?" Arizona's version of Contemporary Modern Art.
I just spent a few days in La Jolla, California. While wandering the streets of La Jolla with my wife, we ventured into a handful of galleries. Many of these galleries proclaim themselves to be purveyors of fine Contemporary Modern Art. I started wondering exactly what this moniker actually meant. In the process I've decided on a sure fire way to identify if a piece of "art" is contemporary modern art or not. This method may not guarantee you will identify all art that is professionally labeled as "modern," but it will guarantee you that any art you personally identify as "modern" is, in fact, truly contemporary modern art.If you are looking at a piece of "art" and the first thought in your head, the first words from your lips, are: What the F? You, my friend, are gazing upon Contemporary Modern Art of the highest order!
Since I just took off in a jet, I had the thought, in much the same way, most airplane crashes--for the passengers aboard anyway--almost always qualify as Contemporary Modern Art. Given the right situations we can go through life finding Contemporary Modern Art almost anywhere. Keep your eyes open for examples of this fine "found art" form. Anytime you catch yourself saying, or even thinking, "What the F?" just remember that you are in the presence of art.
Part Two, Nothing.
There's a big expanse of nothing. Lots of them, actually. Expanses. Of nothing. We never notice them, though, so we don't even realize they are there--be it in the comfort of our climate-controlled automobiles or sitting and sipping a cocktail in the pressurized cabin of a jet. Our every need is met and there is no challenge or hardship in travel. Maybe there should be. There certainly used to be. All of those homesteaders, miners, and pioneers could not stop off at the nearest exit, pull in to the Fast Foodplex Plus and grab a Starbucks and a triple cheeseburger with fries. Many of them never even made it due to disease, lack of water, even starvation or predation by other people. Imagine how much more we would appreciate our San Diego beach adventures if first we had to run a gauntlet of danger and duress, making our way of our own accord across hundreds of miles of open desert and rugged mountainous passes.Looking down from 30,000 feet, club soda in hand and a book propped on my drop-down tray table, I see an odd strip of farmland. There in the deserts of western Arizona, large green circles spread out along the landscape in a swath of controlled lushness. Crops are grown in round fields to accomodate rotational sprinklers that pump water and turn in slow, lazy circles, creating unnaturally green dots across the desert. Some of these big green alien pies have a piece cut out, be it a sprinkler arm that goes back and forth in a three-hundred and forty degree arc, just short of a full circle, or some other unknown reason. Without irrigation nothing of use could grow here. Each lush green circle is an artifice. And that's the odd thing.
These "farms" stretch out for many, many miles in a narrow line that follows, presumeably, the Central Arizona Project (CAP), the water supply system that snakes over three-hundred miles across the state delivering Colorado river water to the farms and ever-growing cities of Arizona. You see these circles of varying shades of green and reddish tones, some brilliant green, some dull and nearly earthtone, stretching out. It's vastly long. But it's not wide.
As I said, this strip of farming circles goes for what seems hundreds of miles--it's so hard to judge distance from 30,000 feet in the air--but it can't be more than a quarter of a mile wide. I'd be surprised if it's that wide. And at the edges, this artificial greenery simply melts away and dissolves into rocky, rugged desert. The edges are literally fuzzy and indistinct. You look down upon this thing, this snaking spine of circular farmland; you see the narrowness of it, the crumbling edges being nibbled away by the voracious appetite of the awaiting desert; you look down and you say to yourself, "What the F?" Arizona's version of Contemporary Modern Art.
Agua en El Aeropuerto
Airport water is never all that good. I don't really have all that much to say about it, just that it's, as I've said, never all that good. You can buy bottled water. That all tastes the same. Or, rather, doesn't taste the same, if you get my drift. But I steer clear of bottled water. If my life was at stake, sure, give me an effin Fiji Aquafina, Poland Springs, Arrowhead Springs, I don't care. Just give me some water. But I've yet to be in that situation so I try not to buy bottled water.
What I do is bring an empty water bottle through security. I have yet to have anyone even bat an eye at this (though I was blocked from bringing an empty, see through, open water bottle into a minor league ball park--but that's another story). I then fill the bottle up at the drinking fountain before boarding the plan. This works very well and it's a lot better than buying bottled water. Cheaper, too.
But, no matter how different water supplies may be, airport water generally tastes the same--bad. Like old well water. I don't know if well water actually changes flavor as it sits and ages, but I have to say that this is the only way I can imagine describing the taste of airport water. But I still drink it. It gives me one more thing to look forward to as I travel--the taste of water home-filtered and ready to be drunk by a thirsty guy like me.
What I do is bring an empty water bottle through security. I have yet to have anyone even bat an eye at this (though I was blocked from bringing an empty, see through, open water bottle into a minor league ball park--but that's another story). I then fill the bottle up at the drinking fountain before boarding the plan. This works very well and it's a lot better than buying bottled water. Cheaper, too.
But, no matter how different water supplies may be, airport water generally tastes the same--bad. Like old well water. I don't know if well water actually changes flavor as it sits and ages, but I have to say that this is the only way I can imagine describing the taste of airport water. But I still drink it. It gives me one more thing to look forward to as I travel--the taste of water home-filtered and ready to be drunk by a thirsty guy like me.
Petco Park, San Diego
We went to Petco Park last night to watch the Arizona Diamondbacks play the San Diego Padres. Unfortunately, the Friars managed to break their streak and beat us--but that's almost to be expected because we were at the game!
That said, it's a really nice park. An outdoor stadium near the water, right at the "foot" of the Gaslamp District, the park is well-situated and very nicely arranged. It is supposedly set up with the seating in "neighborhoods."
They have even incorporated a warehouse into the design--whether or not this was an actual warehouse at one time or simply a design feature (which I suspect it is), it makes for a nice look. It hearkens back to the old stadiums which always seemed to be tucked into industrial warehouse districts.
Like most modern ball parks, Petco has an excellent concession system. You can get everything from a $6 slice of pizza (yes, slice of pizza, no more than 5" wide) to a $9 beer. I'm not kidding. This is a standard cheap disposable plastic cup of beer--what? 12 ounces? Miller Genuine Draft. You can practically buy a twelve pack for that kind of money. I actually ended up with a bargain, sort of. I grabbed a veggie burger--a veggie burger! At a ball park!--for $6. It didn't come with fries or anything but it was a decent burger of decent size and quality at a, surprise! surprise!, decent price.But, all in all, Petco is a really nice park and a great place to watch a game. You can't beat the weather, the location, any of it. Sure, it would have been great if the DBacks won the game while we were there, but we hardly expect them to win when we're at a game. Yes, they were three games in the lead in the NL West. Yes, they had just trounced San Diego when they played them at home. Yes, San Diego had been on a bit of a losing streak. You'd think the DBacks would win as a matter of course. Ha! All bets are off when we're in the house.
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