NEWFLASH! Science Boiling In My Veins

Right now it's raining. Thundering in fact. I was driving home today, listening to the local sports radio station, when the DJ said right before a commercial break, something like, "Just so you know, there is a tornado warning for such and such counties (all of which were peripheral to the Twin Cities), so um, don't go outside if you live in these counties." Pretty sound advice. I get home and on the TV, as I predicted, was every single network affiliate running non-stop coverage about the weather. What the hell? Why does this storm only get a blurb on the radio, but it's freaking Pearl Harbor II on TV? Rhetorical question there, by the way.



My favorite quote occured when the weatherman was going on about some Little League kids out in the sticks who had to take cover in their dugout during the storm, and then added, "But this is nothing out of the ordinary. It's typical precautionary measures." Nothing out of the ordinary, but we'll talk about it for three hours anyway. Minnesotans pride themselves on being so hearty and how they live such a full life in spite of the weather. If this is the case, why is every drop of sunshine, rain, and snow accompanied by ten local newscasters? Sissies. In all fairness, this storm did have one tornado touch down, but this was two hours after I was watching TV.

What has affected me over the past 24 hours isn't so much the swing in climate, but the swing in my health (how's that for a transition?). Yesterday morning I woke up with a sore throat that was easily suppressed with a glass of grapefruit juice. But by noon I was aching and hot and cold at the same time. It had to be well over 80 degrees in my car all the way home, but it felt so good. I spent the evening wimpering and talking nonsense to Emily. I sent out two e-mails and made three phone calls and was completely wiped out. A child's fever in an adult's body is no fun. What was fun, was waking up completely healed this morning, depite needing a mallet-to-the-head last to get me to fall asleep. As of 6:30 a.m this morning, all flu symptoms were gone. I cooked the hell out of that flu in less than 18 hours.




Do I have superhuman powers here? Am I now a DC Superhero who belongs in the Hall of Justice? Maybe I could be Immune System Man! Well, maybe not. It looks like some jackass named Tim beat me to the punch a few months ago. Sneaky bastard. Maybe he can marry Immune System Woman. I can't tell how she looks from the outside, but she looks pretty good on the inside. And isn't what a person is like on the inside all that really counts? Geez, now that I think about it that way, this Immune System Woman is looking hotter and hotter. This weekend is my bachelor party and I've made a strict NO STRIPPERS rule. Thank God. Otherwise I'd probably be shouting "Show us your immune system!!" to the stripper, at which point (if she is clinically-minded and quite literal) she'd spit a loogie in my face. I'd just be getting what I asked for...

How to Boil a Frog

Or should I say how to boil a Freedom Amphibian?

As always, the latest article from The Consortium is definitely worth a read. It may preaching to the choir, for most people who read this blog. But it's extremely well-written and hopefully it will be one more dose of motivation to get us outraged enough to come together and make change. Towards the end there was a paragraph that summed it up best (but you really should read the entire article anyway):

If the American people don’t demand accountability for the lies that led to war, a new political paradigm may be created. Bush may conclude that he is free to make any life-or-death decision and then unleash his conservative allies to manipulate the facts and intimidate the opposition. By inaction, the American people may be sleepwalking down a path that takes them into a land controlled by lies, delusion and fear.

Two weekends ago I did a phone interview for moveon.org. They paired me with a complete stranger. We were given ten or so questions to ask each other and then reported our results to moveon. In the 90 minutes we were talking, this guy (who is far more left-leaning than I am) also summed things up well. He said if you want to boil a frog, you slowly turn up the heat, from room temperature to boiling and the frog won't feel the rising temperature. But if you drop him in boiling water from the start, he'll hop right out. Hopefully, you are brighter than I was two weeks ago and don't need this metaphor explained any further. I feel the heat rising in this country, as does everyone else in my social circles. What about the rest of the country. Will enough people feel the heat before it's too late?

The Civil Rights Movement keeps coming to mind. Will it come to that? I wasn't alive back then, I'm as white as they get, and I come from a pretty sheltered background. So perhaps it's insulting to suggest whatever beefs I have about the Bush Regime are on the same page as slavery and the century of Jim Crow that followed. But what will it take for change to occur? I heard a story on my drive home from work today about the 50th Anniversary of the Baton Rouge Bus Boycott (and if you're like me, you probably never knew Baton Rouge inspired the Montgomery bus boycott). It's a pretty inspirational story. African-Americans who had cars gave free rides (to and from work) for those who didn't have cars during the boycott.

But what struck me was the quote from a boycotter who said, "When we started we didn't start to end segregation on buses. We just started to get seats." Of course their protest had a huge domino effect, even if that was not its initial ambition. So what is on our horizon? Is Election Day 2004 our only hope for change? Or can a more effective domino fall between now and then? It's time to look to our recent past for inspiration! How much hotter does it have to get?

Spurs rule!!!

Okay so the 1999 title will always be the sweetest, and this year's playoff run never had a true climax, like a Memorial Day Miracle to hang our memories on. But Tim Duncan's dominance will be hard to forget anytime soon. And so will David Robinson's last game as a Spur. However, the fact that he wins the title ON FATHER'S DAY for his last game of his career, makes you wonder if the fix is in.

Regardless, Spurs rule once again. I don't know if it's because I'm not 12 or because I don't live in San Antonio (or within 10 miles of anyone who cares about the NBA), but I feel pretty detached from the whole excitement. Malik Rose, Duncan, Parker, Robinson, and Kerr are all guys I really love to cheer for. But it's not the same as when I was a kid and adolescent. This is a good thing, since I don't throw stuff (like hammers and full cups of pop) at the TV anymore.

Obviously, my ability to supress the need to throw objects at the TV is a function of age. But my relative detachment from the title run? That's geography. I can't tell you how happy I am the Spurs won the title, but nearly not as happy as a bunch of San Antonio nuns. And my money says I wouldn't be as nutty as Rolando Garcia, and I wouldn't pray as much as the nuns. Even so, my emotional investment and subsequnt reaction would have been at the level of both the sisters and the esteemed Mr. Garcia. See for yourself and read Championship City (San Antonio Express-News), a story about the city's post-game celebration. Excerpts include:

"I'm going downtown, I'm going to get butt-naked," Rolando Garcia, 18, announced as he emerged from a house and headed for the Riverwalk."

And then later in the story...

At Our Lady of the Lake Convent, there was no fear when the Spurs trailed at the half.

"When we lose the first half, we win the second," said Sister Eileen Klein.

Klein, who wore her Spurs cap backwards, was one of about 17 Sisters of Divine Providence who gathered before the big screen TV for the championship game.

Then, when the Spurs took the lead for the first time in the fourth quarter Sister Alexandrine Gieniec said, "The Carmelites are praying, and Sister Boniface is on it from Heaven."

Sister Mary Boniface O'Neill, known as the Mother Teresa of San Antonio and founder of the Healy-Murphy Center, died in April.

As the Spurs rallied, Sister Jane Ann Slater got up and led cheers, chanting "D-A-V-I-D," and "S-P-U-R-S."

Sister Clair Osborn, whose bedroom looks a bit like a teenager's with a crush on the Spurs, said her dream is to have David Robinson stop by the convent to show off his championship ring.

At the game's close, Sister Clair said she was sure divine providence played a part in the game.

"I just know it was the prayers," she said. "I am happy for David. I wanted him to go out a winner."

Don't Mess With Texas

With all the backwards politics and Bushies, it's easy to forget that Texas has a few things going for it. Let me count the ways:

1. The Spurs. How about David Robinson stealing Kenyon Martin's pass last night and Steve Kerr lighting it up again in the fourth quarter? What a great way for these guys to end their respective careers. I'll miss being able to cheer for them next year. But with or without them, Spurs rule! And this series they've been ruling ugly, but we'll take it.

2. The Ardmore 53. It's not likely the Daughters of the Republic of Texas will turn the Ardmore Holiday Inn or Denny's into a shrine to freedom, like they did to the Alamo. Maybe I'm being to partisan here, but it was nice to see some Democrats stand up to the GOP.

3. The music. I used to be able to listen to KEEP up here in Minnesota, thanks to the internet. Ironically, the only way I could pick it up in San Antonio was on a clear night in a car or truck.

But sadly, the FCC cut back on radio stations that could broadcast over the internet a few years back, and I am no longer able to get Texas Rebel Radio up here anymore. :(

But iTunes now has Gruene With Envy (GWE) as one its internet radio stations we can listen to, which I assume is coming out of Gruene, Texas. I am sure you can listen to GWE on a PC as well, but I don't know how (try their webpage). I've been listening to GWE for about half a week now, and I've heard a lot of Texas musicians: Steve Earle, Townes Van Zandt, Robert Earle Keene, Lyle Lovett, Bob Wills, Willie Nelson, and Dixie Chicks (which is the only top 40 band I've heard to date).


However, GWE is no Texas Rebel Radio. But beggars can't be choosers, so it will have to do. That said, I do have three main complaints. From biggest to smallest they are:
a) There is no DJ and the website doesn't have a "Now Playing" feature so sometimes, when I like a song I've never heard before and don't recognize the artist, I have no way of finding out who I am listening to. It's vey annoying.
b) They are prone to playing a few too many shit-kicker, dime-a-dozen rockabilly songs than I need to hear. Ditto for cheesy country ballads. But for the most part the playlist is solid.
c) GWE has some strange affinity towards covers. Right now I'm listening to Robert Earle Keene cover James McMurtry's "Levelland." It's acoustic and nowhere near as riveting as the original song. I've also heard someone do an acoustic cover (I have no idea who) Son Volt's "Windfall" and someone cover Willie ("Whiskey River"). It's very strange.

Anyway, the emphasis is certainly Texas artists, but they play other bands as well. I've heard Whiskeytown (speaking of Whiskey) and Tom Petty, for example. All in all, it's the best thing to happen to the internet since Emily's blog!!!

The Quarry Then and Now

Is there a Twin Cities equivalent to the Quarry Market? Take a look at the stores they have. It's nothing like the warehouse district.

The Quarry Market is more like Block E and Target in downtown Minneapolis, but even more suburbanesque.

Instead of forcing city people to the suburbs, The Quarry Market has forced the suburbs into the city. I have relatively little problem with the gentrification and/or renewel of warehouse districts and other dead zones in the city. That's capitalism at work and postive urbanization. But the quarry has been paved over, not renovated. And they didn't put in hip housing, theaters, and bars, like they have done in Minneapolis' warehouse districts. Instead there is a premium golf course and a Thomas Kinkade gallery to peruse in the Quarry market.

Thomas fucking Kinkade!!! I used to work with a lady who'd bitch about paying $7 to see action movies because they were run-of-the-mill and unrealistic, but had no problem forking hundreds (thousands?) of dollars for mass produced paintings of STRUCTURALLY IMPOSSIBLE houses. I guess irony wasn't taught in the Burnsville school district.

What is so surpising to me about San Antonio is, missions aside, the lost history. In the Twin Cities this kind of history would be preserved (even if it's not restored). There'd be books, documentaries, and museum exhibits about a site like the quarry and Cementville. But no one has done anything like Twin Cities: Then and Now and Lost Twin Cities in South Texas. Is there a Texan Larry Millet out there? San Antonio is twice as old as Minneapolis but where is the history, besides the Alamo and the missions? Who wants to unearth and bring to life the real stories of San Antonio (the ones I don't know)? Does someone out there want to compare the pictures of today's South Texas to the ones from 100, 50, and 25 years ago?

After reading Justin's comments, I did a web search on the quarry and Cementville. At first I thought this was the first time Google ever let me down. But then I realized, the problem was Google has nothing to find. The web has 1000 pages about how to blanche green beans, but I'll be damned if anyone's posted a site about Cementville. I did learn a Trinity University student made a documentary about the place (may be worth looking into) and a story about one Cementville resident (not to be confused with Cementville, IN). It looks like you could be a primary source, Justin.

Odds and ends...

A few bits and pieces.

1. I know the comment feature on this blog sucks. If you want to leave a long reply (which makes my day), you have to do so over several comments (like Matt did in the last blog). You get what you pay for. I have the free download from Backblog, which means they limit how long each comment can be. When I comment, I write everything out in MS Word and then cut and paste the text into the comment section. It can be infuriating to write a long comment out and then have nothing to show for it.

2. I can't believe I haven't talked about the Spurs yet! I guess the excitement isn't the same as in 1999. First because they hadn't ever won the title before in 1999. But also, the Memorial Day Miracle kind of made that entire playoff run magical. And this Nets/Spurs series has been PAINFUL to watch.

3. To the likes of "L-Dawg" and some other ladies who complain about the dull content and length of my blog: ya'll can kiss my hairy jackassalope!!! Here's a thought, L-Dawg: Why don't you actually do something with your blog, instead of cluttering up the internet and hogging a domain name? What if some poor little 8 year-old kid couldn't wait to start her own blog. It was her life's dream to start her own "Dudes With Perms" blog. But noooooo, some bloghog took the domain name and is doing nothing with it! You're a mean lady. Any of you San Antonio peeps know if Lyndsay is Spanish for "Selfish Child-Dream Stealer Beeeeeeaaaatch"?

Jackassalope Book Review

The inspiration for my bolg-before-last stems in part, from the fact that I was half-way through Places Left Unfinished at the Time of Creation by John Phillip Santos. This book is about three years old. I discovered when I was visting my family back in San Antonio. It was part of a big stack of books my mom was ready to get rid of. I also found, in surfing the web for this entry, that Places Left Unfinished was nominated for the 1999 National Book Award (non-fiction).

The book wasn't really grounded in one time or place, which I thought was fitting. No matter how much we want to appear or believe otherwise, are any of us as grounded as we want to be?

I kind of felt like a ghost drifting through this guy's family history. I really enjoyed it; but it definitely got in my head. It was disconcerting at times. There is this eerie distance between John Santos the author and John Santos the character. Every life event and memory was fodder for poetic prose and postulating, but there was never any room for emotions like sorrow and anger or any confusion. It just made it all so damn foggy and dreamlike. And I was absorbed through it all.

Santos writes a lot about being Mexican-American and what it has done to his famiy history. He also ties it into a shrinking Mexican culture. There is such a depressing contrast between his images of the 1960s San Antonio (and what it meant to be Mexican-American back then) and the San Antonio I grew up in or, even worse, the San Antonio I go to visit today. For me, The Quarry Market is the poster child for paving over the past.



But I grew up on the mighty whitey side of town, and can't even pretend to know what it's like to feel the whitewashing that may be going on throughout the rest of the city. So Places Left Unfinished gave me a perspective I could not have seen on my own.

But what did resonate with me was the search for the essence of people and life in the past. This guy is lamenting he can't retrieve the essence of his family from two generations ago, and I can't bring back two decades ago. Of course, what is richer, and more vital? What is more tragic of a loss? The pulse of a culture and heritage that seems to be slipping and McAmericanized, or my own personal memories of the stretch between Vandiver and Amesbury on the street I grew up on?

I hope everyone gives this book a read, especially those who have a feel for San Antonio. Even if your San Antonio, like mine, is limited to the North side, and the "sheltered enclaves of Olmos Park, whey they got their own police force so you can stay out way past dark" (another James McMurtry quote).

Speaking of quotes, I'll close with a quote I really liked from Places Left Unfinished. There are so many passages like this that have haunted me, even as I go on reading other books and magazines.

"Our vast galaxy is itself in perpetual motion, spiraling further outward into the chill vacuum that creation first exploded into. We have left our past--the journeys, marriages, and deaths along the way, all the bowls of menudo--scattered randomly across those vast arcs and loops, traced through millions of years, spun out across the void. This was our invisible momentum, always carrying us further from the source of our stirring."

Cornering the Political Ice Cream Market

File this one under: So Bizarre You Can't Make It Up. Perhaps it's fitting that I read this story as I was flying to that liberal hotbed of the Left Coast, San Francisco. It turns out there is a new ice cream company that is trying to counter Ben and Jerry's far left ice cream with some good old fashioned GOP ice cream. Their logic being, why should the Left monopolize the gourmet ice cream market?

Half the fun has been trying to come up with their next flavor. It turns out some people have already beaten us to the punch. See for yourself at Star Spangled Ice Cream's website. Are there any other flavors they haven't thought of? How about "I Spent Two Years in Camp X-Raisin Nut Butter (And All I Got Was This Stupid Orange T-Shirt)?" Or "N-R-aisin Nut Butter?" Is Raisin Nut Butter even an ice cream flavor or am I making that up too? How about Chocolate Supreme Court Gave Me the Presidency?" Or Strawberry the First Ammendment?" Have I forgotten any?



Oh yeah, one big advantage Ben and Jerry's has over Star Spangled Ice Cream: $76 for a gallon of ice cream--and that's our only option? Seventy-six freaking dollars??? Aren't Republcans supposed to have better business sense then a couple of burned out hippies from Vermont?