Putting a Face on 3,000,000 People

The One Man March

There was a surprising headline ( and subsequent story) in the St. Paul Pioneer Press today: State Could Go to Bush in '04. The second paragraph of the story reads as follows: A new analysis by a prominent political scientist suggests that of all the states that voted for Al Gore in 2000, Minnesota is the most likely to go for Bush next year.

Fair enough. Whether or not one group's analysis (no matter how prominent) for an election that is more than a year away deserves to be on the front page deserves a blog of its own. But I will say two things:

1. This story's headline was above-the-fold and above the story President Keeps Lid on Parts of 9/11 Study. This second story was below-the-fold. The Pioneer-Press endorsed Bush in 2000. Connect those dots however you want to. In all fairness the Minneapolis Star-Tribune (which endorsed Gore in 2000) ran this story 4th from the top on its webpage (the Pioneer-Press ran it 3rd from the top). I did not see a copy of today's Star-Tribune, so I don't where the story was layout-wise.

2. The fact that this story is above-the-fold news speaks volumes about the way journalists gets sucked into covering national current events as a political horse race.

Okay, moving on. Today two parts of Bush's economic team (Treasury Secretary John Snow and Commerce Secretary Don Evans) were in town to pump up the "economic stimulus program" they are so proud of. It has received the appropriate amount of play from the news outlets here. But what hasn't received any coverage is John and his website JobforJohn.com. It's a great site. John just lost his job and is now following Snow and Evans on their tour of the Midwest, trying to talk to them and show anybody who is paying attention the reality of the economy.

Image from JobforJohn.com

It's too bad this guy isn't getting more press. I would have e-mailed his story to MPR and all the local TV and newspaper outlets, but I didn't find out about his site until today. In fact, I found it posted on another web forum. Mark Fiore, who has some of the best animated cartoons on the web also has an outstanding web forum, which posted JobforJohn.com.

Anyway, check-out JobforJohn.com. You'll be glad you did. I hope the guy gets a job. But in the meantime, he's doing a great job putting a face on the Bush tax cuts and economy. Too bad so few people are seeing it. The exchange he has with Snow at the end is particularly well-written; so read all the way to the end!

It's Not Trash and It's Not Art

I love, and am becoming obsessed with what the homepage for Found Magazine has to offer. Go check it out!

I don't know if we're all guilty of this, but I have always been fascinated by anonymous scraps of paper (notes and drawings) and photos I come across in my daily life. I regularly scan the ATM statements that lie cluttered around the machine, from the people that used the ATM before I did. I know, they're just slips of the paper and I'll never see the lives or people attached to these account balances. But I'm always a little giddy when a read an account balance of $8,803.34 (why would anyone have that much money in their checking account?) or when I find one that says $1.54 (I know how that feels).

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It feels like striking gold when I come across a grocery list or to-do list left behind on the bus, parking lot, or street. In college a group of us even found a love letter in the parking lot of the grocery store! Once some pictures of some guys hanging out on their porch, drinking Coors, fell out of a book I was pricing when I worked at a used college text book store.

And now there is a magazine solely devoted to this pursuit! It's funny: at work, when I'm cleaning up the waiting room at the end of the day, I'll come across all sorts of to-do and grocery lists left behind by families. But that's just garbage as far as I'm concerned. I know the author of the list and that somehow removes the magic of the find. There's no gold in the mundane details of the lives of people we know (although the spicier dirt is always interesting).

The fun part in boring to slightly odd details is when there is no context or person behind these facts. Then your imagination gets to build your own person and history behind the list. It's fun to imagine all the different possibilities why someone went to the grocery store to buy "Soft Batch cookies, toy soldiers, razors, and three gallons of ketchup" (I made that list up, by the way).

Anyway, take a look at Found Magazine. It can be guiltlessly addictive, I think, because each found item is a short story in and of itself just waiting to be written (by a more creative and skilled writer than I am). I think it's a great concept. You can even send them your own finds.

By the way, the Minneapolis Star-Tribune (Strib) ran a story about Found Magazune today. The problem is to access their stories, you have to register your e-mail and pertinent information with them. What a pain! If you still want to jump through the Strib's on-line hoops (or already have), click here to access the story.

Red Storm Rising

Today at work my 10 a.m. appointment hadn't arrived on time. The kid I was waiting for is named John, and is mildly obsessed with what I eat for breakfast. So I took advantage of the extra five minutes by filling my water bottle up at the water fountain.

As I'm filling up I hear John and his family coming up the stairs, which are right behind the water fountain. So I turn around to tell say hi to John, his sisters, and babysitter, when all of a sudden his oldest sister decides now is as good a time as any to start throwing up massively. I don't know why it didn't occur to her (or all the other eight year olds in the world) to maybe plan ahead and try to barf outside, ten seconds before she came in. She had to know she wasn't feeling to well. But she risked it, I guess, and hoped the sickness would pass.

She gambled and lost.

I don't know if John is as obsessed with what his sister eats for breakfast as he is with my dining habits. But it's safe to say he didn't have to ask her what she ate for breakfast today. He got to see for himself.

Raspberries. Bright red raspberries. And now there was bright red raspberry vomit all over the steps, walls, and first floor of our office building. Again, and I cannot emphasize this enough: a little foresight from Barfing Sister would have made a lot of people's life a lot easier. So while John and I played Go Fish in my office for half an hour, his babysitter had to mop up raspberry puke. I never knew I'd view playing Go Fish for 23904238th time in my life as a godsend.

Anyway, as Raspberry Shortcake was unloading her breakfast, I really could only think, "Damn that's a lot of red." Beyond the splotches of red, I couldn't process much else. We're talking buckets of red, here, enough to overflow a washing machine.



Many summers ago I went to a Red Sox game and sat in the Fenway bleachers. Beers were enjoyed, so I made my requisite trip to the bathroom in the 6th inning. As I was minding my own business, despite peeing with 30 other crazed Red Sox fans, my peeing neighbor decided to welcome me to the urinal neighborhood. He slapped me on the back and said, "Shiiiiiiiit! How is it that 32 ounces of beer can always make 32 gallons of piss?" When I suggested that perhaps he, like me, had just a bit more than 32 ounces of beer to drink, he said something like "Fuckin' A you got that right!" and put his hand up for a high five, mid-urination. So I took him up on his high-five offer, and felt pretty embrassed afterwards. But you know what alchohol does to people's high five inhibitions; I guess I'm kind of a high-five whore that way.

But I digress. My point is I am reminded of that exchange when I think of this morning's events. How can 32 raspberries lead to a laundry-load of barf?

Da Bears

As I mentioned in the previous post, one of the greatest parts of our honeymoon was the trip to Sand Island. What I didn't mention is that one of the other Apostle Islands we were considering visiting was deemed off-limits due to an infestation of those pesky black bears.

I just assumed that these bears got to these islands by walking across the lake when it was frozen. But it turns out that black bears are really good swimmers.

It just so happens that awhile back a friend of mine (who prefers to remain anonymous, but let's just say we have a first and middle name in common) also visited Bayfield and the Apostle Islands. He also figured that the bears walked across the ice to get the islands. When my friend ("Mike D") asked the park ranger if this was indeed the case, she looked at him like he was an idiot. She treated him like he had just asked her the dumbest question ever. Well, better him than me, because I would have asked the same question!

So the challenege for all you Encyclopedia Browns out there is this: why is "Mike D's" question so ludicrous and the waste of a park ranger's time?

And in the meantime, how about those swimming bears!

Back to the Real World

and all of its humidity. Emily and I had a great time on Madeline Island, for four nights, and then in Bayfield for two.


While on Madeline Island we were in a sort of news and time vaccuum, which was great. We stayed in a private lodge (pictured below) at the Woods Manor, complete with a deck, a porch, and a bear skin on the wall.

Oh yeah, and we also had our own personal hot tub. The cool thing about the hot tub is it was supplied with well water (which happened to smell like sulphur) and the hot water heater in our cabin was good for maybe five minutes of hot water. So after filling up the tub for the requisite twenty minutes, we were left with a tub full of ice cold water that smelled like rotten eggs. Real fucking romatic. Needless to say, save for the five seconds when I dipped my foot in the water and said, "This sucks," the hot tub did not get any use.

But we did have a great time at the Woods Manor and on Madeline Island. I read three books, played a lot of tennis, and of course explored the area. Time really stands still there. Everyone rides bikes or walks everywhere and there isn't even the scent of newsprint, let alone a TV on the island.

But the highlight for me was when we took a boat to Sand Island. The shoreline was beautiful and the lighthouse and all of its history was all an added bonus.




Our honeymoon is also very historic in that it is likely the first honeymoon where the newlyweds slept in separate beds. For the last two nights, while we were in Bayfield (we stayed at The Bayfield Inn), we had a room with two double beds. Seeing as how Emily and I aren't exactly midgets, we knew we wouldn't be comforatable enough to sleep in the same bed. Also, cable TV is a novelty to us, and we hadn't seen or heard any news in days, so I was glued to CNN and SportsCenter (Emily preferred the shows Trading Spaces and some make-over show).

So there we were, on our honeymoon, self-sequestered in separate beds watching the news. It was pretty funny, but I don't know how romantic it was. I consider it practice for when we're a couple of blue hairs. Even so, we loved the Bayfield Inn, with its deck restaurant and views of Lake Superior. And we also liked that we didn't smell like sulphur after taking a shower.


Anyway, this is a sort-of overview of our trip. I'll add more details as time goes on. Now I'm off to help clean up the mess we left behind in the wake of the wedding and all of its awesome gifts. It looks like a tornado of Crate and Barrel boxes hit our house while we were gone. There's certainly worse problems to have.

Gone Fishin'

Wow. I cannot tell you how happy I am right now! Emily and I had a great time at our wedding and can only hope others did as well. So many things went on behind the scenes and there so many people to thanks, starting with our families.

So now our blogs will be taking a week off as Emily and I head for our two-stage honeymoon (we'll be on an island in Lake Superior for a four days and at the cottage for the rest).

I cannot tell you how great it is to be Mike right now. I hope everyone who was a part of our wedding was happy. And if I could change anything out of my control it would be that guys like Zandypants, Julie, Matt the Hatt, and his new wife could have been there. We'll have to send you guys pictures.

MIKE AND EM 4ever!!!!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!

I Am Getting Fucking Married

I really wish I had something profound to say, since in a few days I will be married to (duh) Emily. I'm obviously wicked excited and can't wait to be officially spending the rest of my life with her.

For me, this is as close as I'll come to walking in the moon. How am I supposed to capture all of my excitement and thoughts, and the work and planning we (mostly Emily) have done in one blog. All I can say is

Ohmyfuckinggod how cool is this?!?!?!?!

It's all so overwhelming, in a great way, especially with all the family and friends coming in to visit.





All I can think of is the headline from The Onion's Our Dumb Century, for when man first walked on the moon. Click here to see the full page. And then imagine me in a tuxedo in front of Emily, instead of Neil Armstrong on the moon. And then replace the word "on the moon" with "marrying Emily," and that's exactly how I feel.

Holymotheroffuckinggod this rox!!!!!

Proud to be an American

Happy Birthday USA, you old windbag!!!! It's been so easy to rip on this country for its behaviors over the past two years, okay two hundred years. Sometimes I feel like the two grumpy old guys from the Muppet Show, Statler and Waldorf, the way I criticize the way things are going, from the sidelines, and not getting more involved to make change.


Sure we've done some shitty things in the past (slavery and genocide come to mind) and King George II's policy of bullying and globalization is emabrassing and scary. But as far as empire and world powers go, we traditionally have acutally been a pretty responsible world leader, relative to the likes of Rome, Spain, and England. And best of all, we get to speak out.

And I guess that's one of my favorite about being an American: the right to dissent, protest, vote, and write in an effort to create change, all within the confines of the law. I guess I should take advantage of this luxury more.

And of course, let's not forget all the wealth we have here. As much as the liberal elite (and I am one of them, I assume) bitch about this country, the fact is this is by far the world's wealthiest nation. And no matter how liberal and enlightened you are, you probably take for granted the wealth you enjoy on a daily basis (I know I do). When I was living off of a cook's wages in rural Iowa, I was still probably one of the wealthiest people in the world.

Wealth aside, though, I LOVE the freedom of press in this country. This doesn't mean I accept Michael Powell's and the FCC's actions over the past year or the Republican dominance in the media. It means I don't take for granted the letters to the editor I can freely write or the annual check I give to Minnesota Public Radio. I can also go and visit all the websites I list as links in Blognation.

Speaking of MPR, Midday is by far and away my favorite show. If I could meet one person in journalism, it would the host Garry Eichten. I'd love to take him to Dulano's for a beer or three, get a little tipsy with him, and shoot the shit for an evening.

But I digress (as per usual). The topic of today's Midday was "What it means to be an American." It was neat to hear the perspective of recent immigrants who called in. And (as per usual) I realized what being an American means to me well after the show was over (maybe next year I can call in). So instead of telling Garry and his cult following, I will have to tell you.

To me, being an American is being a citizen. Take advantage of our freedom and wealth. It's so easy to sit on the left and act like Statler and Waldorf, and verbally crap on this country. But what does that accomplish? It's easy to hate this country for its McDonaldsization and foregin policy ( sorry Don--despite what you think, we are in a quagmire). But what is great about our country is, collectively, we have the tools for change. All we need is the motivation.

I think every year I will make a July 4th Resolution--a Citizen Resolution. What does it take to be a citizen? Live the platitude: "Think Globally. Act Locally." Get in touch with not only current events, but this nation's past. See the good and the bad we have done--and all the grey nuances in between. Don't just vote. Get behind the candidate you are going to vote for. These are all things I need to either do more of, or start doing. I'm not sure what my Inaugural Citizen's Resolution will be yet, but I'll have an answer before the weekend is over.

At work, one of my cornerstones of therapy when working with adult stutterers is to quit dwelling on the negative. In short, quit bitching and start acting. Maybe it's time I did the same as a citizen.

Happy Birthday everybody!!!!!!!

Home Improvements

I finally fixed my link to Emily's Reuben Sandwich blog, so you can access it from my site now (on the left, under Blognation). I also added some more links. The top half are blogs or websites of friends. Well, with one exception, I don't know the author of the World's Dullest Blog, ( Matt the Hatt sent me the link), but why does an abridged James Joyce come to mind? The home half of the links are websites I recommend. I really enjoy the Mark Fiore cartoons, but beware, they are very addicitve. More links to follow.

Cooking Microwave Popcorn in a Campfire

There is a Bloggod, and she is vengeful. I talk shit about the weather and BLAM! twelve hours later a lightning bolt takes out our cable for the cable modem. I brag about my immune system and ZAP! I'm sick for an entire week. So no more predictions, lest I bring the wrath of the Bloggod.

So now it's back to the olden days: blogging and surfing with a dial-up modem, heating up left-overs on the stove, Betamax movies, using a pay phone, beating a woman over the head with my club and dragging her into my cave...

I found at least one story worth checking out, even if these pages took 2340234 seconds to load. Salon.com has a pretty interesting article about Howard Dean and the success he's had with blogging and the internet in general. It was a little distressing to see that jackass Joe Liberman leading the Dems field and Dean only getting 6%, but it's early and I'm hopeful. I think once people hear Dean speak they'll be taken by him. He is Mr. Soundbite.

A friend of mine once said the way the common man and the left will take this country back is through the internet. if Dean gives the Kerrys and Liebermans a run for their money, it may happen sooner than we think!

Also check out Sr. Gabe Chavez' most recent blog. He has some great pictures in his post, along with a great story. It's all just so, uh, great.

Well that's it for now. Happy 4th everybody! I got my 1st paycheck today since Bush's tax cuts went through. My take home pay went up $10.00!!! Thanks King George II! I love seeing that gizanillion dollar tax cut trickle down to me $10 at a time! USA! USA! USA!

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?

The Faded Smell of Memory

There's a line from a James McMurtry song that has always stuck in my head since I first processed it. I don't know the name of the song, but it's on "Where'd You Hide the Body." Anyway, he has a line in this song about waking up in a world where everything was "like the streets of a town where I lived when I was too young to drive." Everything is familiar, but nothing has a name. The story of my world is the opposite: the names and facts from my past remain, but the essence is gone.

I am always amazed by people who can relive and bring to life people and episodes from their past (both major and trivial). I am marrying one of those people, and we happen to live four blocks from where she grew up. So for her, the past and her childhood are as real as the streets we walk and drive on. Things are a bit foggier for me.

Odors, more than any other sense, are supposedly the best at rekindling memories and their associated emotion. If I remember my grad school neurology correctly, it's because the olfactory cortex and hippocampus are neighbors. So, in the past month, I got a wiff of a Port-A-Potty and suddenly had the nervous energy I got before running the 5k in a college track meet, some window cleaner at work made me feel like I was in an ex-girlfriend's bathroom, and the smell of fresh leaves on our deck had me re-living my first summer out of college.




The point to all of this: these remote memories are all no more than 11 years old. Where have I stored years 1 through 20 of my life?

I bring this up because I am going to San Francisco this weekend, where I lived for a summer with my dad (when I was somewhere between seven and nine years old). And I have fond, vague memories of the place. But I remember the facts well: going to my first baseball game ever (A's vs. Mariners), The Exploritorium, playing with a dog named Heather, and completing multi-day long games of Monopoly with my grandma. All very specific memories, no doubt, but their essence is gone. Remembering these facts are no different than remembering that John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln or that the Golgi bodies are organelles at the cellular level that prepare enzymes for secretion. They are just facts that I can recall that, as far as I can tell, have no real effect on me. I would like to think that I am more attached to my past than the facts that I remember from 9th grade biology.

I lost close family members and a very close friend since I moved to the Twin Cities. It scares me to think that one day my memories of them will fade away like my lost feelings for my first car, elementary school auditorium, and even my childhood kitchen. Who knows, maybe once I get to the Bay Area, see Fisherman's Wharf and go to the Exploritorium all these memories will come flooding back and suddenly I will be whole again.

Nothing new under the sun

Today Emily and I went for a Memorial Day bike ride with two friends of ours. We rode our bikes on county roads near Afton, MN, which is on the St. Croix river, and borders Wisconsin. I had my bike tuned up last year and, 12 months later, I have finally used it. As we rode out of Afton, I saw alternating "Liberate Iraq" and "NO WAR ON IRAQ" signs, as if I were biking through south Minneapolis (of course in South Minneapolis, the ratio is more 2:1 for Don't Attack vs. Liberate and it is more like 1:1 in Afton).


Anyway, as we were biking out of town there was a dead/dying tree in someone's front yard that had been painted red, white, and blue, at the base, with the upper two thirds of the tree painted to be the Statue of Liberty. One day, I'll get a nice digital camera and take a picture of things like this tree, just like Gabe Chavez does. But for now, you are stuck with my description. Regardless, it is safe to say a dead tree/Statue of Liberty isn't exactly what I would want in my front yard. However, it was a refreshing change from the cookie cutter McHomes that we drove past in Woodbury and Maplewood on I-94 on our way to Afton.


So for the rest of my bike ride, on this Memorial Day, I got to thinking, how many Vets, on a daily basis, see or experience something that makes them say, "I went to war, killed people, and my friends died for my country in (insert country I have never been to here). And my buddies died for this bullshit?!?!?!?!!" My guess is that it actually happens less than I expect. But I have to wonder, what would be most likely to prompt a heroic Vet to think such a thing? Would it be...

a) the cookie-cutter subdivisions of Woodbury

b) the Statue of Liberty tree

or c) Me and my three 20-30 something friends driving 30 miles to bike around some farm land, eat ice cream, and complain about how long it took for me to get my chicken tender sandwich, or talk about how much it sucks that I have to go into work today to get caught up on some report writing. All this on Memorial Day.

I am pretty sure answer might be c).


Safe to say, I am one of many spoiled generations. And if 9/11 wasn't enough to wake us up for more than a few months as to how good we have it, I don't know what will--other than all of us going through a half-decade or more of war. Maybe we need the casualties of war we honor today to be our own classmates, friends, and spouses before Memorial Day really means anything to us. And I don't know if I should feel that, just because I wrote this blog, I now adequately appreciate those who have died in war.


But I did see one other noteworthy scene during our Afton trip. An old man, easily in his late 70s, drove his riding lawn mower down Afton's main street and into the ice cream parlor parking lot. It was like watching the sequal to The Straight Story (great movie by the way). Then he hobbled his way into the parlor and came out with a cup of coffee. He had one of the most labored gaits I have ever seen. He sat on the porch by himself and drank his coffee. I assume he was going to ride his mower back home when he was done. If he's not a Vet himself, I'm sure a lot of guys who are would say, "Now there's an American worth fighting for."