Obama's Speech: Moral equivalence and white guilt

...click Obama to enlarge...

There is a fascinating editorial in today's Washington Post: "The Speech: A Brilliant Fraud." "His defense rests on two central propositions: (a) moral equivalence and (b) white guilt. " Charles Krauthammer makes a pretty interesting case for Barack Obama being just another politician of expediency.

I felt like it was a great speech. But was my white guilt merely played like a Stradivarius? A great speech may not be noble, but accomplishes what it set out to do. The polls seem to indicate Obama got a bump from the speech in certain sectors, while he lost ground with the independents. I don't think we'll know for a while because it's not over yet.

Was this the first sign of the cynical, manipulative politician that had to emerge sooner or later? And how will all the new young and African-American voters view that? Does Obama, as a singularly historic figure, get to play by a different set of rules?
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Boston Dynamics' Spooky Gas-powered, Concrete Robot, Big Dog...

It's loud, it looks like a gigantic insect scrambling over the hill, and it lives! This is by far the spookiest thing I've seen this year. "Big Dog" is a robot that can carry 350 pounds, walk through brush, bombed out buildings, and even on ice. This was created by Boston Dynamics on a grant from "The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency." We're so screwed!

Earlier this year I read How To Survive a Robot Uprising: Tips on Defending Yourself Against the Coming Rebellion by Daniel H. Wilson. . .Wilson drops robotics history trivia nuggets and descriptions of current robot research into this scary and funny guide to surviving the inevitable robot apocalypse. And seeing Big Dog, it feels like we're just a little bit closer to that Robot-Homo Sapien meet-up.
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Timothy! The best song ever about cannibalism

On a side note, I saw The Buoys 35 years ago at The Satstop River Rock Festival. Also on the bill: Delaney and Bonnie (with the now bandless Eric Clapton), The Youngbloods, Wishbone Ash, Albert Collins, Eric Burdon, Jimmy Witherspoon. All I remember about the Buoys' performance is the notorious Timothy, and an incredible cover of Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.

I was just trying to look up information about the Satsop Festival...and an article on All This Is That is the first hit...when I am looking for real information this is not where I'd start the search for anything!

This infamous 1971 song is about two trapped miners who eat a third one. It is still remembered and written about in rock histories. Here is the song, with atypical You Tube photo montage.


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Happy 1,437th Birthday to the Prophet Muhammad!

Abu l-Qasim Muhammad, Mohammed, Muhammed, Mahomet, whatever you want to call Him, celebrates his 1,437th birthday today.

He is considered by Muslims to be the final messenger and prophet of God a/k/a الله‎ Allāh. Muslims consider him the restorer of the uncorrupted faith ( a/k/a islām) of Adam, Abraham and others. He is the last (and they say greatest) in a line of prophets of Islam. Most of what we know about him comes straight from the Qur'an (a/k/a Koran),

He seems to be a pretty cool guy like Jesus, or Buddha, and like Jesus and Buddha, he took the heat for a lot of zealous followers who went overboard and took it to the extreme.
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Photo: Vicki Lenti on the Staten Island Ferry with Our Lady Of The Harbor A/K/A The Statue Of Liberty In The Distance

Click Victoria Lenti to enlarge

One thing we often did when we lived in New York City was hop on the Staten Island Ferry and go back and forth across the harbor to the forgotten borough. The ferry was especially great on those 95 degree 99% humidity days. In 1979, when this picture was taken [I think], the Staten Island Ferry still cost ten cents, and for that dime, you could ride back and forth all day long.
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The Tally as it stands today: 105 delegates separate Hillary and Barack

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Spitzer's replacement David Paterson admits hot affair and MILF Michelle 'fesses up to being rodgered outside the connubial confines of marriage

By Pablo Fanque

All This Is That National Affairs Editor

03-18-2008 12:00 AM PDT

The very same day he took over for horndog Elliott Spitzer, New York Governor David Paterson, told the Daily News that he and his wife have had extramarital affairs. Both Paterson, 53, and his tasty wife, Michelle, 46, acknowledged in an interview they each had intimate relationships with others several years ago.



Paterson said he had a relationship for two or three years with "a woman other than my wife," beginning in 1999.

Asked if he had stayed with anyone else since 2001 at the same West Side hotel, Paterson said, "From time to time I used to take Michelle to that hotel."

The First Couple agreed to speak publicly about their—what was once called open—marriage after an outbreak of rumors about Paterson's personal life began circulating among the press corps in the last week.

No one can really get up in arms about The Governor sneaking around, or the wronged wife this time. He maintains some sort of cred despite the affair. . .because he was getting it for free, and she was working her own angle. In a curious side-note, Paterson is legally blind, which seems not to preclude an eye for the ladies.



What's the deal these last few years with statehouse sex scandals in New York and New Jersey? It's King Midas In Reverse all over again.
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Wazzup Mr. Cheezle? (video clip)

We all have a Mr. Cheezle somewhere in our lives.


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The Dusty 45's perform at Chop Suey in Seattle

I saw the Dusty 45's again last night at King Cobra, a new (and fantastic) rock club in Seattle. Why these guys didn't explode nationally is a mystery to me. They're skilled, their music is infectious, and they're masters of fusing rock with alt country, rockabilly, pop, and good old fashioned western swing. With a touch of surf music ala The Ventures (other local heroes) and a little bit of that wacky mariachi trumpet. Here is a YouTube vid of their performance at Chop Suey.


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The ides of March: It was 2,052 years ago today that Caesar was assassinated

click to enlarge the scene on the Ides of March

2,052 years ago today, on March 15th, 44 B.C., a plot of 60 conspirators led by Marcus Junius Brutus and Gaius Cassius Longinus, succeeded in killing the Emperor Julius Caesar.

The sixty conspirators came to a meeting in the Forum Romanum with daggers hidden in their togas. They stabbed Caesar at least 23 times as he stood at the base of Pompey's statue.

E tu Brute? - Legend has it that Caesar said in Greek to Brutus, “You, too, my child?” The Senators all fled after the deed, and three slaves carried his body home to Calpurnia hours later.

A bust believed to be of Julius Caesar, uncovered at Thera

The unwitting conspirators had no long-range plan beyond killing Caesar, and, in a major F***-up, they did not also assassinate Mark Antony. Brutus apparently went soft. The assassins had only a small band of gladiators to back them up. Marc Antony (whom we usually call Mark Anthony in English), however, had a whole legion, the keys to the privy purse, and Caesar's will.

Eventually a peace was brokered, and the 60 assassins were let off the hook.

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Blown by the TSA again/Aviophobia once again

The Bombardier 200, the 36 passenger turbo-prop used
on the runs between Seattle and Eugene and Portland, OR

I'm back from two nights, three days, four flights, and five cities (SF, Emeryville, Oakland, Eugene, Portland) on the road. Since I get frisked on every flight, I received the goosing four times this trip. And in San Francisco, I was once again blown by the TSA. They put you in a booth and jets of wind swirl around you for five seconds and stop. Then a red light comes on as the machine analyzes your scent for explosives, and allegedly, drugs, and maybe even the anarchist scent. I particularly resent being blown by the TSA, because it's clearly done by profiling. Being frisked, I am more sanguine about. Yeah, I have a large stainless steel femur and it sets off alarms. Fine. But when they put me in the blowjob booth, it's not because of my prosthetic hip but because I am not apparently a businessman.

I am a Vice President of something or other, but they have no way of knowing that. It doesn't cut any ice if you don't fit the traditional mold. Since I dress in Salvation army couture (aka northwest grunge/boho), have shaggy hair and a beard, and carry a pack instead of one of those tacky rolling suitcases, I get singled out. I resent the blowbooth and everything it stands for. The TSA would tell you they're doing a great job of profiling people, because nary a plane has been hijacked since September 2001. Au Contraire. They've been lucky. At least once I've accidentally carried a very sharp Gerber mini-magnum onto a plane undetected...even though I was singled out at the metal detector and frisked. But leave your computer or a bottle of water in your luggage, and the entire TSA cadre harangues you and points you out as an example to the other hapless security line goobs.

There were about seven or eight girls ahead of me in line, traveling together. I don't think most of them had ever flown before. The TSA was merciless because they hadn't taken their belts off, removed their shoes, placed their gels, liquids in a plastic bag in which none of the liquieds ir gels could exceed 3.4 ounces, removed their laptops and placed them in a bin separate from the bin for their shoes, belt, and liquids. Naturally, they also fluffed the "remove your coat, warm up jacket, sports coat, jacket and any other outer garments" and didn't finesse whether hooded sweatshirts were kosher or trefe. They seemed like sweet kids and it was a comedy of errors that became amusing to watch. They all kept apologizing. I helped the last two sort their gear in accordance with the latest protocols and we finally go through "security."

The flight from Eugene to Portland, although it is only about 30 minutes, was harrowing this time. We encountered King Hell turbulence ten minutes into the trip, just about as we hit 10,000 feet. The plane, probably ten times, dropped 100 feet or so, and at one point both dropped 100 feet and tilted almost sideways. Naturally, they cancelled the Horizon free wine and beer cart immediately--just when you needed it most!
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Poem: The Outlet

The water gathers in a lake
Without flowing out, but always

Finds an outlet when the lake is full,
And so it with us.

We're just like the water
And when we've had it up to here,

We shoot up our former workplace
Or do a slow burn with pills and bottles,

And some of us just resign--
Not ending it,

But re-arranging it
And starting over.
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