Political News of the Wierd

It should be a good night for blogging. Those of us who swore off electoral politics (temporarily) after the 2004 election get a little taste of November with today's primaries. First, the normal news. Lucy Baxley looks close to trouncing Don Seigelman in the AL Democratic primary, and Bob Riley has already been declared the winner of the Republican primary. Their margins of victory are, in the first case, a sign that folks are turned off from politicians of either party who have the stench of scandal about them, and in the second case, a sign that Alabama Republicans want to be free of the stench of Roy Moore. Bob Riley was roundly despised (by Republicans) during his Amendment 1 campaign but they still don't want to be marked as backwater nutjobs. In other good news, Drayton Nabors is beating Tom Parker for Supreme Court Chief Justice. (For updates on AL polls tonight, see here.)

In my county, Phil Angelides is leading Steve Westly for the Dem gov nomination. It's early, but Alameda County has 1 out of every 20 Democratic voters in the state. And Francine Busby is leading Brian Bilbray in the 50th Congressional District. Which rules.

Here's the wierd, or maybe sad, news from today's Alabama primary: Larry Darby is close on the heels of John Tyson for the Democratic nomination for Attorney General. (Troy King has already got the Republican nomination - natch). That's fucked up.

Even more fucked up than Katherine Harris' inexplicable contention that she will use a guide dog in Washington once elected to the Senate, notwithstanding her sightedness. She sounds totally unhinged these days.

Okay, more as the evening unfolds.

The Internets Is Abuzz Today

Anna Nicole Smith has announced that she is pregnant. Let me be the first (or whatever) to congratulate her. My sincerest hope is that she was inseminated with the sperm of her late husband J. Howard Marshall II, Texas oil tycoon*. If so, she is a complete genius. Or her lawyer is. If she were to create a new heir to the Marshall fortune, it would guarantee litigation with her obnoxious "stepson" well into the next century. Notwithstanding evidence to the contrary, I actually have work to do, so I will have to "research" the cases about posthumous insemination a little later in the day.

*I need more reasons to use the word "tycoon" in my life.

This Blog Is Not Sponsored By Spencer's Gifts

It only seems like it is.



For those of you curious about the Puzzle Alarm Clock, which spews puzzle pieces when it goes off and can't be silenced til the puzzle is done, I also recommend the Blowfly Alarm, which buzzes around the room and can only be silenced when it is returned to its cage.

Caution: John Travolta Alert

In case you were hoping that the gross-out stories of the day would be limited to the front page of the paper today, hope no more. The New York Times Style section has an article on how gyms are no longer the dating scene they once were. Great, you think. Except that it includes descriptions such as this:

When men and women first began working out together in the late 70's and early 80's, the atmosphere at many gyms was as sexually charged as a John Travolta-era disco: beefy men and lithe women pumped iron, Jazzercised and gave each other the eye.

And gym bunnies, both male and female, dressed to accentuate their appeal (or so they thought). "Jane Fonda made it O.K. for us to exercise almost naked in public," Ms. Fox said. "There was a whole sexual revealment — a thong leotard with a flesh-colored tight. It was like, butt cheek, hello! When I look back on it now, it looks like an exotic dancer outfit."

Men liked to flaunt their assets, too. In "Perfect," Mr. Travolta wears crotch-hugging short shorts, and he's not afraid of the hip thrust.

Is that necessary?? Also, is revealment a word?

WTF?

Having gotten no satisfaction from my earlier license plate musings, I was pretty annoyed today to see a bumper sticker that said, "I (heart) dogs & I (heart) art & I vote!!" I am not even going to bother researching this stupid bullshit. I will go straight to Dan's conclusion re Thomas Payne: "Actually it makes no effing sense at all, and solves nothing." I may cross-stitch that on my ass if I see another stupid fucking license plate/bumper sticker.

I take that back, since Berkeley is the ninth circle of bumper sticker hell.

My Vigilance is Rewarded

Nelson Marans is dropping some knowledge on y'all over on the Science Times letters page. Don't think I am not watching, Nelson Marans. I am.

What else is going on with me? Not much. I updated Bay Area Hiking Mamas yesterday. I let someone give my child a buzz cut yesterday. No, wait, I actively encouraged it. It's really freaking cute. Our digital camera is broken, so you'll have to take my word for it.

Re-printing Without Editorial Comment

From The Onion
Pregnant Woman Glows With Rage
May 24, 2006 Issue 42•21
BROOKLYN, NY—Developments common to the seventh month of pregnancy have caused mother-to-be Anita Cernicke to glow with the inner light of pure fury, those close to the Cernickes report. "Jesus Christ, my fucking back," Cernicke, incandescent with the wrath of impending motherhood, said repeatedly to her husband during a recent trip to the grocery store. "Ask the manager if I can use the restroom. I'm peeing every 15 minutes, I swear. How long until I can have a god-damned drink?" Family sources said they see no reason why Cernicke's positively livid radiance can't sustain itself to the baby's due date and beyond.

Boo Boo the Chicken

Things to Do in Arkadelphia When You're Dead.

Can you tell that I am having a really hard time focusing on work this afternoon?

Where Are They Now?

Hey former Hache-Pee-Kayers, wonder whatever happened to Benjahmin Evans and his adorable sweetheart Jen Stewart? Look no further. Not sure what this means for Drag King, but the radon sure contributes to the, umm, mystique.

And sorry to my other readers who could not give a shit. Or who wonder why I read Money magazine. (Let me put it this way: I read it for the articles.)

Nothing Makes Sense About This

Anonymous asked for clarification on a license plate cover that said, "My Other Car is a Thomas Payne Novel". My interest was piqued. After searching Amazon and the Oakland Public Library, my curiosity is beyond piqued. What's a word that even means "beyond piqued"? Enzealed?

Here are some books authored by people named Thomas Payne or Tom Payne:

1. Gatitos! by Larry Dane Brimner & Tom Payne - Cats - Juvenile fiction
2. Odd Moments in Baseball - Joel Cohen & Tom Payne - Baseball humor - juvenile
3. The Epiphany: An operetta for children: Matthew 2:1-12 by Edward Thomas Payne
4. Spiritual death and resurrection;: A treatise: on The crucifixion and death of the old man, and The resurrection and spiritual life of the new by Thomas Payne
5. A catalogue of books, to be sold at the prices affixed to each article by Thomas Payne
6. Things I Wish I Had Known Before I Started Sailing by John Vigor and Thomas Payne
7. From the inside out: How to create and survive a culture of change by Thomas Payne
8. File This, Please! by Marjorie Thomas Payne
9. Exploring Language Structure: A Student's Guide by Thomas Payne
10. This Whole Tooth Fairy Things Nothing But A Big Rip Off! by Lois Grambling and Thomas Payne

Need I go on?

Did they owner of this car really mean Thomas Paine (author of the nonfiction Common Sense)? Or is Thomas Payne a code word for vanity-publishing authors? And why do 7 of these 10 examples have an exclamation point in their titles? Is it the law of averages or do exclamation points really draw the reader's eye to the title?

I am reminded of Pee Wee Herman's speech in his basement to his friends when he is describing his search for the bike thief:

The mind plays tricks on you. You play tricks back! It's like you're unraveling a big cable-knit sweater that someone keeps knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting...

Thought I'd Share

Got my law school alumni magazine today. This, from an article about alums who have gone into government jobs:

Marty Boland '96
Assistant General Counsel
Central Intelligence Agency, Office of General Counsel

A professional achievement of which you are particularly proud:

Unfortunately, given the nature of my work, this is difficult to describe with any specificity. In general though, I can say that I am proud, on a daily basis, to be able to contribute to the mission of the CIA by ensuring that its activities are conducted in a lawful manner.

I think he speaks for all of us, really.

Back in the Saddle, At Least for Today

Other than my musings on the Alabama Democratic Party, I have been largely absent from my blogging activities recently. Unlike Article III Groupie (um, pull yourself together please) and T&A Lady, I have no apology to offer. No offense, but I don't pretend like any of you miss me. And plus, I have an excuse. Several, in fact. First of all, there is this:

Second, there is this:

So yeah, there is a lot of non-Internets activity that I am trying to keep a handle on. That doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about y'all. Here are a few things you should know about:

1. A few friends of mine have started blogging, Smashed Bananas and Goodbye to Old Missoula. Check them out.

2. I saw a license plate protector today that said, "I DON'T NEED ANOTHER CAR, I'M A WELLES FILM ENTHUSIAST." What the hell does that mean? Related thought: why do Prius owners go all crazy for vanity plates? Corollary: Mini drivers (as opposed to Minnie Driver), why do you discredit yourselves thus?

3. My heart is gladdened to read this Chicago Tribune story about my homey, my stromey, the Doo Doo Man on WRMS. Peace. Actually, it's about JP Chill on WHPK but I thought someone might like that reference....(and if you're gonna buy it, get it at Dusty Groove).

Party Fluidity in Alabama Politics

If I were going to write a dissertation for a PhD from Troy State University*, it would be about the effect of party fluidity on the decline of the Democratic Party in Alabama. What is that, you say? Basically, people can declare that they are Democrats in any election where the incumbent is a Republican, just so that they can run on a party ticket, regardless of whether they share the politics of the party. This has helped the Democratic Party stay viable in AL, probably, but it is also corrodes their ability to have a cohesive message. That's a theory of mine, at least.

The candidacy of Larry Darby starkly illustrates this problem. He is an atheist-white-power-Holocaust-denier running for attorney general in the Democratic Party primary.

In an interview Friday with The Associated Press, Darby said he believes no more than 140,000 Jewish people died in Europe during World War II, and most of them succumbed to typhus. Historians say about 6 million Jews were slaughtered by the Nazis, but Darby said the figure is a false claim of the "Holocaust industry." Darby said he will speak Saturday near Newark, N.J., at a meeting of National Vanguard, which bills itself as an advocate for the white race. Some of his campaign materials are posted on the group's Internet site.

He sounds like he was invented by the Republicans to discredit Democrats, doesn't he? (And how the hell does he expect to make it alive out of Newark?). The AL Dems are going to launch an investigation into how Darby hitched his wagon to their star.

*Please note that Troy State does not appear to offer any doctorate degrees. Well, a girl can dream.

Freestyle Chin Beards?

You probably didn't even know that there was something other than a chin beard, but this guy won that category at the International German Beard Championships. I wonder whether the Germans have an awards category for "Beards", in THIS sense. That would be awesome.

In unrelated news, the woman in France who had the face transplant can now feel her face (and not just the cigarette she keeps dangling from her lips). Do you remember that there was a flap over whether she was the best person to be the first face recipient, owing to her suicidal tendencies and nasty smoking habit? It occurs to me now: if you are depressed enough to be suicidal, don't you think that you, more than most others, truly need a face??? Like, what's more depressing than not having a FACE? I saw Murderball last night, so I can say with zero authority but reasonable certainty, that its more depressing to be faceless than legless. That's my opinion.

Something I Always Suspected About Finland

Even the subliminal message backlash against Judas Priest (now so many years ago) engendered the kind of navel-gazing that the Finns are doing over the choice of Lordi to represent their country at the Eurovision pop contest. Hello? Hakkapeliittas?

Why am I writing about this? I felt that I must. Please read here.

Luckily, No Gunfire Broke Out

Today's edition of Pregnancy Insanity is proud to feature Sarah and Kris Everson, whose recent announcement of the birth of sextuplets has been revealed to be a scam. Who among us, really, has not thought, Diapers are so f***ing expensive. How can I get the readers of People magazine to give a girl a hand up?

At least there's no body count in this case. I just wonder if ANY babies were born at all.

Two Ways to Make You Feel a Little More Stressed Today

Two items that made me feel more, rather than less, agitated today:

The Bush Countdown Clock: I think this is suppsed to be reassuring but it more seems like the clock of a time bomb. Maybe they should call it Countdown to the Frist Administration or something. It's more Nuclear (err, Nucular) Clock than the coping mechanism its creators intended.

The Sinus Balloon: From the Cure is Worse than the Illness File, I bring you the sinus balloon. Looking at this makes my face hurt, which suggests that I would rather have a sinus infection than this contraption installed in my face:

Unclear on the Concept

Onan the Vegetarian.

I am not even sure what I could add to this. Talk amongst yourselves.

When You're Smiling....

As they say, the whole world smiles with you.

Well, when you're pregnant, the whole world is full of nut jobs. I don't even know which of these stories is better.

The story about the gunfight that broke out at the baby shower?

A baby shower erupted into a fight among guests in which one man was shot and several other people, including the seven-months-pregnant guest of honor, were beaten with a stick, police say.

Three people were arrested after the brawl, described by police as a "baby shower gone bad." Police said the shooting victim, Aristotle Garcia, got into a fight with a man who is dating his ex-girlfriend. The argument, over whether the woman let their 5-year-old daughter drink beer, escalated and drew in two other people — Jazz Rivas and Juan Velazquez, said Police Lt. Cheryl C. Claprood.

When the baby shower's hostess tried to intervene, Rivas began hitting some of the guests, including the 22-year-old mother-to-be, with a large stick, she said.

Or is it the craigslist post about the insaniac new mom on the treadmill?

You - New mom on the elliptical machine at the gym. Me - They guy on the elliptical machine next to you. The other day you were running on the elliptical machine with your baby strapped to your chest. I admire your commitment to get back into the gym and work out even with the challenges of being a parent and having a baby. I also admire your ability to continue running for 20 minutes after your baby had shit their diaper. It didn't matter that the entire gym fucking stunk, it didn't matter that your baby was sitting in a loaf of crap and developing diaper rash, and it didn't matter that I kept giving you the "holy shit lady, that is fucking gross" glance. All that mattered is that you stubbornly finished your workout, ruined the experience for everyone else there, and probably gave your kid a nasty rash. You have the kind of audacity and selfishness that I am seeking in a soul mate.

Is It Funny?

In her comment to the post below, kmlc suggested google image searching oneself as an enjoyable pastime. Is this fun?

Here is the fruit of my search:




Here is what comes up when you put in my maiden name:

That's me with the comb-over.

So the answer is, No, not funny.

Ummm....

Due to the wonders of modern technology, I am able to view a list of searches that bring folks to my website. As a result of this, I believe that Nelson Marans googles himself pretty frequently.

But anyway, today a visitor to my blog came via a search for "child birth, whiskey". I just wanted to tell that reader, if he or she should visit again, that while it sounds like a good idea to combine the two, it probably isn't medically advised. Please seek professional help for either your alcoholism or your pregnancy or both. Thanks.

It's Okay, I Am Screaming For Her

Various news organizations are reporting that Scientologists have been sighted bringing signs into the Cruise-Holmes mansion that remind Katie to keep quiet during labor.

On Monday, huge placards saying, "Be silent and make all physical movements slow and understandable," were carried into the couple's home, to be displayed around the house to remind Holmes to deal with the extreme pain of childbirth quietly.

Usually I leave the TomKat news to T&A Lady, but I really could not let this pass unmentioned. The preposterous basis for these signs is Hubbard's belief that keeping the mother quiet would prevent trauma to the child as it was being born. He must not have ever witnessed a live birth, since what actually happens in the birth canal has got to be a lot more traumatizing than hearing Katie Holmes tell Tom Cruise that he should go fuck himself. In fact, I think the little tyke, like the rest of us, would actually be gratified to hear her say that.

And while we are on the topic of celebrity births, I hope you haven't missed this.

Culture Math

I have a formula for you:

Hustle & Flow - The Commitments = Big Love

And, yes, doubters, I have seen all three of these. I am actually quite certain that the minds behind Big Love ("Polygamy Loves Company") came up with the concept after seeing Hustle and Flow. Essentially, there's a man, with father issues, struggling against the mores of society to keep his hos fed, if not happy. Djay has three hookers to pimp; Bill has three wives. When Shelby shows up at Djay's, Djay actually says something like, "You Mormons have balls." Bill's a Mormon. And at one point when Djay is rhapsodizing in his car about some bullshit*, he says, "You gotta have big love." I could go on but you get my point.

And it may turn out that Bill has A Dream that involves Wilson Pickett coming to town to hear him and his band of ne'er-do-wells sing with their heart and soul, in which case the equation will be Hustle & Flow - black people = Big Love. I probably will not be tuning back in to find out, however. I am just happy to assume that Bill, like Djay, ends up in the Big House for his troubles.

*the theme of which was probably, "It's hard out here for a pimp."

Innovations in Architecture

Sometimes you drive past a strip mall or office park so ugly, you can only hope that the designing architect has been turned out of his bed at night and beaten senseless by his/her cohorts, given a purple nurple and had his/her pencils sharpened to a nub. Or something.

And then something like this comes along, and you have hope for humanity. It's so brilliant. Hermit crab housing, modeled on a Fascist architect's designs, in recognition of the intrusion-into-nature through control that this idea intends. I think that few of us can say that our profession has ever made a contribution like this one to, well, hermit crabs.

For the Three or Four of You Who Care

Only about 3 or 4 of you will care about this, and you already know, but I do feel like some public grief needs to be spilled about the sale of Puffers in Chicago to an alleged "politically connected contractor (and "teetotaler", in the words of one longtime customer) who plans on turning the bar into a country and western-themed establishment with no live music, no cookouts in the beer garden, and no "foreign" beers."

Let's pause for a second and consider the idea of a (1) contractor who is (2) politically connected in (3) Bridgeport* who is also (4) a teetotaller. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ABOUT?

Geez, the White Sox have a good year and now actual Christians** move into the neighborhood and open country-western-themed restaurants?? Is this implausible or what? Or just sadder than any other gentrification effort you have EVER heard of?

Many of my good memories of Bridgeport go back to Puffers. Some bad ones too. Like watching 15 black kids with "Support Lenard Clark"*** signs march up and down Halsted while sitting in Puffers at the front window. But I am glad to say the patrons of Puffers were supportive of those kids, offended that they had neighbors who would bring such infamy to the neighborhood.

Anyway, just my two cents.

*Note for non-Chicagoans: Bridgeport is where Mayor Daley is from. His moms still lives like 3 blocks from Puffers, although since she's 400 years old, I doubt she's ever darkened their door. Plus, the bartender wears chaps, so that probably keeps her away too.

** As opposed to all the non-teetotalling Catholics.

*** Non-Chicagoans: Lenard Clark was a 13-year-old black kid from across the freeway (Robert Taylor Homes) who dared ride his bike over to Bridgeport/Armour Square, where he was jumped and beaten by some white teenagers. Read a little here.

Side Effects of Botox

This story was just brought to my attention:

Woman injected with fake Botox dies

One of at least two women given fake Botox injections died "several weeks ago" and the woman who performed the injections could face possible manslaughter charges, Monterey County Sheriff's Sgt. Terry Kaiser said today.
The victim's name is not being released, Kaiser said.

Martha Vasquez, 39, does not have a license to practice medicine, which is necessary to administer Botox injections. Investigators believe Vasquez administered the injections at the homes of her clients, who lived in the Salinas area.

Tests to determine what the fake Botox actually was are still under way, according to Kaiser.

Vasquez is currently in custody in Monterey County Jail. The sheriff's office is not releasing any further details about the case at this time because the investigation is ongoing. A spokeswoman for the Monterey District Attorney's office said no decision about possible charges against Vasquez had been made as of this morning.

I was also sent this picture, and I am going to pretend that this photo goes with the previous story, because it should, shouldn't it?

The State of Healthcare

As if nurses and patients don't already have enough problems, with overflowing hospital wards and crazy medical bills... This is in today's paper:

Neurosurgery chief arrested in Oakland operating room - Thursday, March 9, 2006
(03-09) 09:40 PST Oakland, Calif. (AP) --
The chief of neurosurgery at Highland Hospital was wrestled to an operating room floor by deputies and arrested after allegedly throwing a drunken fit when a nurse refused to let him operate, authorities said.

Federico Castro-Moure, 45, was arrested Monday night on suspicion of being under the influence of alcohol and interfering with the duty of officers, said Alameda County sheriff's Lt. Jim Knudson.

Castro-Moure became belligerent after insisting on operating on a man who broke his ankles and fractured his spine in a two-story fall, according to the sheriff's department. Two other surgeons had determined the injuries were not life-threatening, but Castro-Moure insisted the man would die if he did not receive immediate attention, the report said.

He "threw a fit" and began yelling and cursing at staff when they told him equipment for the procedure needed to be transferred from another hospital, according to the report. When the surgical instruments arrived, a nurse refused to allow Castro-Moure to operate until they could be sterilized.

Castro-Moure threatened the nurse by punching his fist in his hand. He took a swing at deputies after they were called to intervene. "Do you know that I am a (expletive) doctor, and I'm going to do what I want," he said, according to a witness.

He was booked into Glenn Dyer Detention Facility in Oakland and was released several hours later in lieu of $4,000 bail, a jail official said Thursday morning.

Castro-Moure was placed on leave while the hospital investigates the matter, hospital spokesman David Cone said.

A woman who answered the phone at Castro-Moure's home Thursday morning said the doctor had no comment.

How is This Funny?

Two little shitheads were arrested for the Alabama church fires. Their defense?

A witness quoted Cloyd as saying Moseley did it "as a joke and it got out of hand," according to the affidavit. Moseley also told agents the four church fires in west Alabama were set "as a diversion to throw investigators off," an attempt that "obviously did not work," the affidavit said.

Fucking idiots. Sorry to sound like some sort gold standard advocate or something, but what the hell is wrong with people these days? Whoever thought it would be funny or something to set churches on fire? No one. Not even white supremacists do it for shits and giggles. They do it to propogate terror and evil, not because it's fucking funny.

Message to the AMA

Dear AMA:

Save your freakin' money. At first I thought this news was a misplaced Onion article, but no, it's true, the AMA has found that (drum roll, please) spring break is bad and unhealthy for young women. Read about it here.

Kathleen Fitzgerald, a 21-year-old junior at Illinois State University, said the AMA's effort to raise awareness is a good idea, but probably won't do much to curb drinking during spring break.

"I think a lot of students wouldn't really pay that much attention to it," Fitzgerald said. "They would just be like, `Duh, that's why we do it.'"

Genius.

The only reason that The Onion never wrote this article is because here's how it would have gone in the pitch meeting:

Writer 1: How about an article about a medical study finding that Spring Break is bad for women? You know, all the alcohol and sun and unprotected sex?
Other Writers: (Silence)
Editor: See me in my office after this.

Writer 1 was even lame enough to create dumb graphic to accompany his stupid story.

My Apologies, Gentle Readers

A reader says, "I realize that you're probably busy but could you please post something new on your blog! I'm getting sick of seeing those butts." She later remarks that there is something particularly distressing about the butt/backpack combo. Probably gives her flashbacks to her honeymoon, but I won't explore that any further.

Anyway.

Another reader shares this from Range Life. NoCal folks will appreciate it most, but I think all NPR listeners will find something in this letter that resonates:

Dear KQED:

It's time now to kill "Perspectives."

Every weekday morning at 7:37, whilst Morning Edition fans in other markets are learning important things about the sorry condition of the world, Bay Area listeners are subjected to three minutes of personal stories about the pain of being bi-racial in Berkeley, or about the pain of being a nerdy teenager who doesn't wear Abercrombie, or about the pain of transcending consumerism during Christmastime.

In other words, it's a pointless segment of "I me my me me I my me me me me me," sort of like a LiveJournal site, but one that you're forced to read all the way through while it rubs your nipples with a cheese grater.

Today's edition, however, was such an atrocity against all that is holy and virtuous about public radio that I feel compelled to speak out. Adrienne DeAngelo's "Perspective" this morning consisted entirely of a long advertisement for Bugaboo strollers, a wildly expensive product line that Ms. DeAngelo wants to acquire for her baby. She went so far as to list the models, plus the features and benefits of each.

It would be annoying enough to hear Ms. DeAngelo whine about how much she misses her grandma or how much she hates traffic, like your other insightful "Perspectives" contributors, but to hear her engage in such flagrant shillery left me feeling like I'd been ear-raped by a car dealership.

What was it like in the studio when Ms. DeAngelo recorded this disaster? Did the
engineer and producer shoot each other an awestruck "This is gold!" look and high five? Is Ms. DeAngelo going to be invited back to brag about her new Bose iPod dock, or whine about her husband not buying her a Lexus RX350?

It's time for "Perspectives" to go. In the Internet age, we don't need NPR to encourage ordinary citizens from Rock Ridge and the Castro to add to an uninformed cacophony about how schoolkids need more art classes, or how happy they are they gave up coffee, or how badly new moms should want an $800 stroller. Let them go get blogs like the rest of us fools, so we can ignore them.

Yours truly,
Seamus

It's True

There's a lid for every pot.

I Didn't Want to Be the One to Say It

I thought it didn't need to said outright, but John Roberts sure is flaunting his persuasion these days, if you know what I mean.

May the Circle Be Unbroken

I don't want you to think I was actively cruising the Lebowski Fest website, but I do need you to know that the site features two circle closures for this blog.

First of all, it IS Liam, and someone thought it was funny enough to make one of these dumb fake church signs out of it.

Second, lebowskiites have already participated in at least one documented bed race. A bed race, dude.

I can't promise that I am done with any of these topics, but I will try very very hard.

Mmmm Good.

Once upon a time, there was a tiny little burg called Haggis-In-The-Can-By-The-Sea. It was a lovely place, and quiet, where all the movies were rated PG and folks left perfectly good wood outside for their neighbors to use as firewood. That kind of place. The kind of place you might like to hunker down and watch from a distance as Atlantic City blazes to the ground in The Rapture, knowing full well that you will survive and be assumed whole cloth into Heaven.

Anyway, one day, the good people of Haggis-In-The-Can-By-The-Sea decided that they wanted to share their local delicacy with the greater world. And in their goodness, they knew that they needed to expand their product line to ensure that it was all-inclusive. Thus, Vegetarian-Haggis-In-The-Can was born. I thought I could help them out, spread their message, spread their joy.

In a hopefully related note, Dismas House is soliciting recipes for its Dismas cookbook. Please join Mike Dukakis "Dukakis Clam Chowder", Sister Helen Prejean "New Orleans fried catfish", author of Dead Man Walking, Kay and John Bassett from Clark University, "Meatloaf," and submit a recipe for the Dismas House cookbook. This cookbook will feature Dismas cooks' recipes, inmate creative recipes made on hot pots, "Honey bun and snickers sandwiches," and photos/profiles of people who live in the community and support Dismas!

This is Getting to be Very Awesome

Pork Roll Shunners! Take Heed! Brown Bread Haters! Run! I bring you Cross & Blackwell Hunger Breaks All Day Breakfast. Have you ever been gladder that we won the Revolutionary War?

Here's the breakdown:

Description: All Day Breakfast baked beans in tomato sauce with sausages, button mushrooms, chopped pork and egg nuggets with cereal, and bacon.

Thanks to KMLC for the tip. Your case of All Day Breakfast is in the mail.

Question

Does anyone know whether, in The Big Lebowski, Jesus Quintana's bowling partner is named Liam or Seamus? I could have sworn, rewatching it on Friday night, that it's Liam, but then Dools found the script on-line:


QUINTANA: I see you rolled your way into the semis. Deos mio, man. Seamus and me, we're gonna fuck you up.
DUDE: Yeah well, that's just, ya know, like, your opinion, man.

UPDATE:

Okay, I am vindicated. The correct version of the script reveals that I was, in fact, stone cold sober throughout the entire movie (this time):

Jesus Quintana: You ready to be fucked, man? I see you rolled your way into the semis. Dios mio, man. Liam and me, we're gonna fuck you up. The Dude: Yeah, well, you know, that's just, like, your opinion, man. Jesus Quintana: Let me tell you something, pendejo. You pull any of your crazy shit with us, you flash a piece out on the lanes, I'll take it away from you, stick it up your ass and pull the fucking trigger 'til it goes "click." The Dude: Jesus. Jesus Quintana: You said it, man. Nobody fucks with the Jesus. Walter Sobchak: Eight-year-olds, Dude.

I feel so much better now.

But less better because it turns out there is a major Lebowski subculture filling the Trekkie void. It bums me out a little. It's enough to make a woman dwell on the goofs so that the good parts are somehow . . . less good.

If You Thought Pork Roll Sounded Gross

For those of you who think the regional/state specialty of Taylor Ham is wierd and stomach-turning, then maybe you would enjoy the Massachusetts' classic Bread in a Can. My hubbis recalls this from his youth, and to rival my cravings, has threatened to order it from the internets.

Stay tuned for information about our upcoming pork roll and brown bread party....

Cute Overload

I added a new link over there to the link, to Cute Overload. I stumbled on it while unsuccessfully* trying to vote for Go Fug Yourself to get a Webbie or a Bloggie or whatever. It's basically the opposite of GFY. I am just bringing to your attention because you might be tired of checking this blog unrelentingly for new content that is not, in fact, here yet.

*My unsuccess arose from being distracted by this new website.

Nelson Marans: Chemist, Writer

In an earlier post, I included a letter published in the NY Times and written by Nelson Marans. It was a good letter. I noted in dicta that Mr. Marans seemed to write to the NY Times a lot. I have not found a letter, published in Today's Chemist at Work, wherein Mr. Marans brags that he has written "nearly 6,000 letters"in his retirement. Damn. While I admit I am impressed, I hope that when I retire, I find a more interesting hobby. Or at least one that takes me outdoors more often. But when I look within myself, I realize that, in all likelihood, I too will spend my golden years writing sharp letters to national and trade publications. Sigh.

Oh.My.God.

Thank you SO MUCH, Taylor Hammie, for the Amazon tip. That is exactly what I needed. Not that buying my own slicer is still outside the realm of possibility.

Maybe I should just drop this law gig and start a Jersey deli out here in the O-town. The problem is, there probably aren't mobsters to buy off and then fireman pals to "help" ensure the place is totally incinerated when the lazy-ass boyfriend of my daughter drops his cigarette butt into a trash bin full of dry paper and salami wrapping.*

Probably before I switch careers, I will get some Taylor Ham and make sure I still like it first. Do any other NJians want me to get them some? Dunes? MW? Cuz in LA? It'll be my treat.

*This is all a reference to a job I had in high school. I worked at the deli at the corner until it burned to the ground under the above-described circumstances. The local fire department hastened the demise of the place by breaking in areas of the deli that would draw the fire towards combustibles, e.g. the hundreds of gallons of cooking oil that were inexplicably stowed everywhere. I did not share this theory with the arson detective with whom I spent six hours replaying my last day of work. I did, however, use said arson detective as an excuse for why I was too traumatized to work for the rest of senior year.

This Blog's New Sub-Theme

Taylor Ham. Pork Roll. Some of you know what I am talking about. Most do not. Possibly this is a pregnancy craving. It's certainly not due to a shortage of sodium in my diet. The thought of a pork roll sandwich makes my mouth water. I am not sure if I can find it out here. But I have found some excellent websites about it, which saves me the trouble of starting yet another blog. Thank God.

For the uninitiated, Taylor Ham, aka pork roll, is a regional specialty of New Jersey. I can't even find other East Coasters who eat the stuff. I can't even remember if I really liked it when I still lived in NJ.

You can buy it online at these three places,* but I want to find it locally. One of those places sells Pork Roll ornaments and magnets, just f your i.

*Please, readers, DO NOT get the hot idea that you should order me a 6 lb. pork roll from one of these places. I will get one in the mail, and think, damn, we need a slicer. And we don't have room for a slicer in our apartment. So it will never get eaten and certain people that I live with will make fun of me, and then get annoyed with me that there are like 17 Taylor Ham rolls stashed throughout the house. And my only defense will be, "I like Taylor Ham and I am going to get a slicer next time I have a chance!" which my spouse will not believe, because, come on, Dre, where are we going to put a slicer.

Best Comeback of the Day

The other day, my little family visited a private preschool in Berkeley during an open house. It was a lovely school but the focus of the other parents' questions* was how would the school handle their child's brilliance. "What will you do if a child is more advanced than his age? Can he accelerate through the curriculum?" This drove me nuts.

I have not come up with a way of dealing with it, but I like this NYT letter writer's approach to handling people bragging about their children:

To the Editor:
I would suggest as an appropriate response to over-the-top bragging of parents about their child that one should repeat back to them word for word what was said, with the statement prefaced by a comment about how fortunate one is to know the parents of such a gifted child. A similar, but adult, situation occurred when one of my friends touted the fact that he was a friend of a multimillionaire. My response again was simply that I was proud to be the friend of a man who was the friend of a multimillionaire. The bragging stopped immediately.
If you really want to brag about your children, wait 30 years and point out that your child gave you a car or a house, indicating that your offspring was worthy of praise, in the unlikely event that this occurs.
Nelson Marans** Silver Spring, Md., Jan. 5, 2006

*My hubs asked about how they impart values of social justice. When the teacher got into an explanation involving puppets, he then stood up and rushed out as though our child were in crisis. He was not.

** A search for this name on the NYT website shows that he writes into the paper chronically, getting a letter published on average every two months. This makes me question whether he has actually employed this approach. Whatever. I hope I have the nerve to use it someday.

Just in Time

Phew! I almost started the second trimester of my pregnancy without constructing an Aluminum Foil Deflector Beanie for my tumescent belly. Thankfully a co-worker brought this website to my attention. No need for anyone to make us an AFDB for the new baby. I will be following this warning:

BEWARE OF COMMERCIAL AFDBS: Since you should trust no one, always construct your AFDB yourself to avoid the risk of subversion and mental enslavement. Sometimes, AFDBs will be sold on places like eBay. Do not purchase these pre-made AFDBs, even if the seller seems trustworthy. They may contain backdoors, pinholes, integrated psychotronic circuitry or other methods that actually promote mind control.

It's All So Clear Now

If I had spent just one ounce of energy interrogating my suspicions about JT Leroy, I would have guessed that the whole stinking story was a ruse. No one in the media has out-and-out admitted that they were had, but the NYT comes pretty damn close today. But they can't pull the trigger. Admit it, Gray Lady, JT Leroy is not a woman, JT Leroy is a fraudulent bullshit machine invented by the alleged adoptive shrink parents. Jesus H. Christo on a hockey puck. The Emperor Has No Clothes. The JT Leroy Con is so elaborate that Jayson Blair has transgendered penis envy. What is the wierdest part of story? I think its the way Laura Albert has dragged her family into this lie, making her sister-in-law dress up as the fake JT and then publicly identifying herself (lying) as a transgendered, HIV+, drug addicted prostitute to get a hotel room in France in front of her young son. So messed up....

Busy day in blogging land

Some pretty excellent stuff out there today. First of all, the House GOP have called for the head of Tom DeLay, with one hot shot saying There's no room in the leadership for Tom DeLay. I recognize that this means that they just want someone who is more ideologically pure and awful, but its nice to see DeLay squirm, and, of course, threaten: "And he appreciates that a majority of his colleagues won't give in to what is essentially character assassination by insinuation," sooth the spokesman.

Even better, oh, way way better, is the re-emergence of my long-time crush Subcommandante Marcos. Or should I say, Delegate Zero?

That is, in fact, a picture of Marcos holding a rooster that looks vaguely like a penguin. Thanks to Boli-Nica for this story, which includes this excellent description from Sub.M/Del.Z:

Concerning How the Recurring PS, A.C. of C.V. Unlimited & Co., Continuing To Be Into Informing, Testifies As to the Latest Events Regarding the Alleged Penguin Allegedly Located In Allegedly Zapatista Lands, in the Selva Lacandona, Chiapas (or Some Distance From Antarctica). - Alright, then, I'm informing you that, following a scientific "penguinological" analysis, it has been determined, to an acceptable degree of certainty, that Penguin was a little rooster in his previous life. And so it might be expected that he would exhibit behaviors which might lead to confusing him with a rooster. This has, in fact, already occurred.

The NYT article has an awesome aside about the difficulties of Pinguino's love life.

Can you imagine if George Bush started carrying around a rooster that he called a penguin? It would be (a) not surprising, really, and (b) somehow seem actually crazy, whereas Marcos just seems more awesome because of this. I really need to look into getting me a rooster...

The last bit of news I have for you is the introduction of my newest blog, Bay Area Hiking Mamas. I know that there are some among you who are already annoyed that I am blogging at all. I accept that. Others wonder, Dude, you barely blog on Scobie, why are you spreading yourself so thin? Point taken. I have a small fantasy that after I develop the Hiking Mama blog, I can turn it into a locally published book, which will help part other Bay Area moms from $14.95. Just a thought.

Enjoy.

Happy New Year

The first good thing to happen this year, so far, is that Underneath Their Robes is back on-line. No explanation for the absence (but I guess we'll hear all about it later*). But s/he's reporting the last good thing to happen in 2005**, which is the coverage of our bud Jay Wexler's Green Bag article in the New York Times.

* Probably in a book.
** The NYT article was probably not, in fact, the last good thing to happen in 2005. But for the sake of the the structure of this paragraph, let's just agree that it was. Because it certainly was NOT the ESPN NYE show.

This is the post that helps the later post appear.

I cannot explain it.

When It's Too Icy for a Bed Race. . .

This photo suggest that children in other countries (okay, in Dusseldorf) are forced to race one another, dressed as Santa, in order to obtain gifts on Christmas. Poor children. Of course, if we instituted such a program here, it might be a way to deal with childhood obesity, through a Darwinian "only the fast thin kids get gifts" rationale.


We could even make the adults do it. One guy apparently thought he could substitute his boxing robe for a Santa suit. Don't worry, he'll get ding-ed at the finish line.

It's more likely, of course, that Americans will start to act like the Russians, and dress their pets as Santa. I wonder if we would let guinea pigs run as our proxies in the Great Christmas Dash.

I don't know why I am blaming the Russians for this nonsense (although this is a Russian guinea pig). It was probably the English who invented the pet costume. And they wonder what happened to their empire.....

Downer in Lowndes County

You may recall my earlier post about Teamsters' organizing in AL. I am pasting today's post from The Union Lawyer in its entirety here:

Around our office, we sometimes talk about getting at least one victory a day. I haven't had one yet, but this sure ain't it. Workers at the Daehan Solutions plant in Lowndes County, AL, voted not to be represented by a union yesterday. I had written about this earlier, surprised that the NLRB was moving so quickly on the unfair labor practice charge. Here's an excerpt from the article that I found strange:

"The company has good pay and benefits, and good and safe working conditions, which is probably why the union attempted to sway the voters with inappropriate and offensive appeals to racial prejudice," Debruge said.

What Debruge referred to was a handbill distributed at the plant Tuesday that he called "racially inflammatory." Both sides accused the other of unfair tactics as the election drew nearer.

The handbill stated, "Thirty-seven years ago, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. gave his life fighting for union workers in Memphis, Tenn. Let's keep his dream alive Nov. 30, 2005. Vote 'yes' union."

Teamsters organizers said Wednesday that the handbill didn't come from them.

I guess it is not strange; race is the sine qua non in AL but it can hardly ever be discussed in public or polite company. I would hazard a guess that this flyer was only one side of a "racially inflammatory campaign".

While We Are On the Topic

Of cute baby animals, here's a creature I would not want to pass through my talapoosa, or whatever euphemism you prefer:

Meanwhiles, McSweeney's has this funny piece about how babies are really no big deal. Check it.

Argh! 2

If you can't see the text to the post above or below, drag your cursor over it to highlight the blank areas. This is the freaking scourge of my blog and I have not figured out yet how to fix it.

Weeping for the Lameness of It All

The Church of the Leaking Teabag has pulled this little stunt up there in Sacramento. Why why why are people so gullible?

In an equally obvious, but far more effective, ploy to manipulate public sentiment, the National Zoo let journalists see the new baby giant panda. You MUST watch the video. You'll die of cuteness.

You can also link the video from the NYT article.

For Inspiration

Sometimes, when it's been a few days since I posted, and I can't think of anything to say, I wander over to the Montgomery Advertiser and see what's ripe for the picking. Herewith, your letter du jour:

Look closer at true traitors

Be careful, Mr. Smith. You raised the specter of treason in your letter of Nov. 9, and this may cause people to reflect upon who the real traitors are in the United States. They are those who hate George Bush so much they are willing to destroy this country to bring him down.

They are the "blame America first" crowd, the critics of our troops and the underminers of the war on terrorism. They aid and abet the enemy by vociferously proclaiming the enemy line on TV and in the press. They see this war as another Vietnam and are determined to sabotage and lose it, too. They are the ones who hate God and the Christian religion and would turn us into a secular, socialistic state like much of Europe.

These are the real traitors and it amazes me that they haven't been called to account. Or maybe they have been and will be at the ballot boxes by the "sheeple" you disdain so contemptuously. Carole Wink, Millbrook

And if that doesn't make you squirm, then maybe this will. Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Enjoy.

http://www.oz.net/~bestockp/shanasweb/

Did Anyone Notice?

Condoleeza Rice's wierd man-hand, on the cover of today's New York Times? Gross.

Or maybe Ariel Sharon had his arm around her shoulder, and was reaching up to swipe a wisp of hair away from her sleek sunglasses.

I can't find the picture on the web: so check this scene. What is going on here?!

Is he literally going to peel this other guy's face off, starting at the neck?

This is Wierd

Article III Groupie has been outed as David Lat. Or outed his/her self. Or something. Can you please read this and tell me what the hell it's about?

Obligatory Post

I have to add a post so that you will be able to read the post below. I have no idea why this is so. But here it is, so you don't miss out on a word of my pithy observations.

A Rare Overlap in My Life

Normally, this is the kind of news that I would post over at The Union Lawyer, but I thought my Bama peeps would like to know that the Teamsters are organizing workers at an auto plant outside of Montgomery. The NLRB has just issued a complaint against the employer Daehan Solutions for threatening to close the plant if the workers chose the union in the upcoming election. The election will be held on November 30, and, if the union wins, it would be one of the first union auto plants in the area.

In Lieu of Content

Yes, grandparents, we will post these on Shutterfly toot-sweet.

Why Do I Care?

Tyra Banks is swiftly reaching the point of becoming the subject of an critical theory/gender studies paper with her weird-ass stunts. Like the fat suit. The breast sonogram. And the upcoming live butt endermologie treatment.

Since I'm not in a position to write that paper (Black Bottoms: A Cosmology of the Superficiality of Gender and Size; Or, "Dimpled Butt": Theories of Race and Cosmetological Artifice), I would just like a footnote from the author who wrestles with this topic.

Oh, and while we are on the topic of race, superficiality and culture, a shout-out to LKC for bringing this article, U. of C. Gets Rap for Theme of Party, to my attention. It's an interesting change in tactics for Chicago. They are now getting faux angry about a problem they intend to do nothing about. They used to just ignore problems they intended to do nothing about.

Scuba Man Strike Again

Hide the chocolate, here come's the Scuba Man again:

I Am Feeling A Little Let Down

I was going to leave the Libby indictment post-mort to Poo-Poo Platter, but since the Blossoming Turd (aka Official A) was not indicted, I am going to comment briefly.

I was all ready to rally around the idea that this was just the first indictment of many (Fitzukkah rather than Fitzmas, as has been said), but I've read the indictment and I think that, sadly, Scooter made his own little bed and will have to sleep in it, cold and alone. It wasn't illegal for Cheney and the CIA to tell Scooter that Wilson was in the CIA, and it wasn't illegal for I. to tell Fleischer, Miller, "Counsel to the Vice President", or Cooper that info either. It was just illegal to lie about it. And wow, did he lie about it. What an idiot.

I Kept My Eyes on the Prize

I called it. You can send checks, cash, trophies and gold bullion to me at my PayPal account. You know why. Poor Harriet. Does she really think this news will last past noon EST if Fitzgerald indicts even the cleaning lady?

You Can Feel The Magic

Friends. Chicago Ex-Pats. You are excited about tonight. The Sox!! They've won! How will you celebrate? Oh, probably alone in your big city, missing the stale beery smell of a Southside bar and the companionship of Rob Schrader. Well, search no further, my friends. Here he is, to celebrate the Sox victory with you.



That's him, there at the left, midground. At Puffers. Remember the hot bartender? Yeah him. And her. What the hell were they doing in Bridgeport? Anyway, back to your beer, and your worrying how you will get Shredder home safely in that condition.

Recipe for a Bar Association Dinner - in Haiku

Here's a haiku recipe poem regarding the Bar Association of San Francisco dinner we went to last night:

One Linda Ronstadt
supports pro bono lawyers
with liberal ditties

Then John Edwards speaks
favors Katrina refugees
for re-election

Passable chicken
So many lawyers - head spins
Add in Meredith and Brook

And when I was inspired to write those little gems, I came up about this one about The Boys fellow traveler back from Boston:

Early off the plane
Big Geraldo Rivera
Orange sunglasses

Bad News for Anti-Union Employers

It's a little difficult to post news about one's own personal achievements but I thought it was only fair warning to let the Anti-Union Employers of America (a.k.a. Wal-Mart) know: the partners at my firm voted unanimously to make me a partner this evening, and, I suppose, through my enthusiasm, I have accepted. So, wooo-hooo!!!

Is Harriet Miers a Stall Tactic for Bush?

As you know, I have already predicted that Harriet Miers will withdraw her nomination, probably on the pretense of needing to care for her elderly mother (rather than because she's unqualified). The question now is, when will she announce? Is she stalling to buy time for the President? And if so, what's he waiting for?

One guess: He's waiting for Scooter Libby's indictment on Friday afternoon, and then HM can withdraw her name Monday. That will keep the vultures busy for a few more days. Then Bush can announce her replacement the following Monday, just when folks might start noticing that the House of Cards (or of, err, Andrew Card) is starting to fall.

Any other thoughts on the smoke screen?

BTW: Check out this b***sh** "Ask Harriet Miers" forum posted on the White House webpage. I think I am going to barf up a lung.

Love is a Beautiful Thing

From Craigslist. This is so moving.

juror at your trial - m4w

As fate and a juror summons would have it, you entered my life. I was juror #4 at your 2 day trial for drug possession, assault and battery, and resisting arrest at Circuit Court at 26th & California. Unfortunately, I like "bad girls". I am afflicted with "opposites attract" syndrome in the worst way. The mere mention of "26th & California" or that late night call from a raspy, but lovely voice saying, "Hey baby, I'm in jail" warms my heart and brings back fond memories. I was so captivated by your profile that I could hardly pay attention to what was said; evidence this or that, blah, blah, blah. I love the Snoopy, butterfly, and bunny tattoos on your neck and arms. You had a cute snarl for each witness. As hard as I tried, there was no swaying the verdicts in your favor because lets face it, you were guilty as hell! Give me a shout out in 2 to 4 years...depending on good behavior. I will assume it's the latter based on your tantrum and the sucker punch to your lawyer. I'll look out for your release date!!! Good luck and be good,

Juror#4

What's In Store for Our Little Friend?

Now that Chief Justice Roberts has ascended to his throne, and all the heat is on Harriet Miers, you are probably worried that Jack Roberts will fall out of the news until he is arrested at age 17, or until his wild coming-out while hosting Saturday Night Live in 22 years. Fear not. Master Jack clearly plans to hijack the headlines at every chance he gets. He's a busy little man. Check out this C.V.

1. He may run for the Oregon Supreme Court. Not surprisingly, he will run as a Republican. He probably had to wait until his father was confirmed before making his announcement, to alleviate the political fall-out.
2. He does voice-over work from a private studio in a remote London suburb. Unfortunately, he's non-union. As a Republican Labor Commissioner in OR, however, this is not surprising.
3. He's leading climbing expeditions in Colorado. Which is sort of dangerous for a 4-year old, but his parents have not demonstrated that they have a lot of control over his behavior.
4. He's selling his art. It's not very good, but then of course, he is only 4.
5. He's . . . bartending?! Geez, can the oversight of this child be any more lax?
6. Now this one is really strange. He's trying to cultivate a reputation as a leading champion of the Olsen twins, in the guise of a founder of a group called Teens/Adults Who Love the Olsen Twins. Only a four year old would think that this sounds legitimate. Jack Roberts agrees with me that he, and not those other brats, should have been taken under the Olsen wings to be cultivated for a multibillion dollar synergism.
7. And if all these don't work, the young lad is bright enough to realize that sometimes a good steady engineering job, done with pride and poise, is the best reward in itself.

A Quick Tour Through Montgomery

We got back from our trip to Montgomery last night and there's a lot to tell. But let me start you off with this image:

That's what it looks like near the end of a meal of pulled pork at Sam's BBQ on Atlanta Highway. It turns out that a child can survive on french fries for 4 full days, by the way.

The trip started out with a visit to Jeff and Danielle's, where some rabbit got snuck into the dinner. Mmm, rabbit. When in 'bama, dine on the available roadkill, I guess.

On Saturday, we visited Abraham (my son's entry: "Abraham, pee-pee, potty") and then went to Sam's.

It's true, I think. After lunch, we drove past the former home of Poo Poo Platter, and I can assure you, it was just as he left it. In fact, the rocker on the porch was swaying in a manner that suggested he had just gotten up to yell at his dawg. After a nap and a jump in the pool, Doodle went back to Abraham's, and BD and I headed over to the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, for the Judge's celebration. Congressman Artur Davis (clerk circa 1995) mc'ed; other speakers included Honorable Truman Hobbes, Dean John L. Carroll of Cumberland School of Law, Dr. Joe L. Reed, and Bill Baxley, husband to Lucy Baxley (among other noteworthy accomplishments). Miles was the most moving speaker, but the whole affair was really really nice.

Sunday, we went to visit Ms. Kirkpatrick at her new home. She's 92 and she looked great. She gave L a flag that was on her dresser, saying (imagine a drawl here), "Ah'm so glad to give it to him. Ah didn't have the heart to throw that out." We ran from there to Judge's for a brunch. After the Kid napped, we went to Tina's, where L learned to program a Cray II Supercomputer.

In (one of) Montgomery's (many) misguided attempts of boosterism, the following has recently appeared 2 houses West of the Fitzgerald Museum, which proudly trumpets the fact that Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald lived in Montgomery for 10 weeks:

Say what?

Let Me Be the First

I want to get on record way ahead of everyone and predict that Harriet Miers will withdraw her name for the nomination for Sandra Day O'Connor's Supreme Court seat. I have no information to support that. If I am wrong, then whatever. But if I am right, I will collect untold millions in cash, prizes, bullion and the esteem of my colleagues. A trophy with my name engraved on it will be paraded through the towns. Mark my words.

If Only...

If only the python smoked, maybe he wouldn't have been hungry to eat the alligator.

Just a Couple Can't Miss Items

Thanks to HD for sharing this great story about a chimp in China who has finally quit smoking after 16 years and 2 heartbreaks.

And if you thought the golf disability question was well-settled, both in law and in this blog, you were mistaken. The SF Chronicle reports that disabled golfers are suing for golf carts at 80 Marriott golf courses. Why exactly, now, are golf courses cartless?

Mustache Championship or Union Convention?

You make the call:

What's The Matter With Miers?

I was listening to NPR this morning, and one of the conservative commentators interviewed was lamenting the fact that Harriet Miers has never clerked for a Supreme Court justice, did not go to a prestigious law school, has never had any of her writings published, etc. This sentiment echoes the disappointment of other conservatives, including Article III Groupie, who does not hide her confusion about why Bush would nominate such a plebe.

I don't have an opinion about Harriet Miers (other than I dislike anyone associated with Bush) but it strikes me that the conservative response to her nomination is so unabashedly elitist that I am inclined to like (or not hate her) solely on the basis of the fact that she is not one of the Elite.

But I also note that the conservative response to Mier's nomination perfectly illustrates Tom Frank's point (everywhere, but most compactly) in What's the Matter with Kansas? Conservatives claim to trumpet the values of the common folk, and insist that Bush's entire presidency has been about waiting for This Very Moment, so that a Real Conservative could finally take back the SCOTUS for The People, instead of the Liberal Elite. But when a good old fashioned boot-strapper like Harriet Miers gets nominated, without fancy schoolin' or ass-kissin', they shoot her down as trailer trash. Conservatives don't want a Justice of the People, they want an elite, privileged insider who they can count on to do their bidding. Arguably, Bush's nomination of Harriet Miers may be the first time in Bush's presidency when he has actually done something for his base, unmediated by conservative lobbyists and pundits. And look at the trouble he's in now.

My Son's Blog: Entry 1

Chris nice. Blue vase.

Bama Folks: Who is This Guy?

I am probably the last one to have read this but, Underneath Their Robes is reporting that W. Keith Watkins has been nominated to replace Judge Albritton. Clerks: What's his story?

Grappling with the Hard Issues

A new reader to this blog (and my other blog The Union Lawyer) asked two very good questions:

1. Is it "to wit" or is it "to whit"?

2. Where does the kerfuffle over Flightplan fit in these blogs? Who gets first blogging rights to it?

These are pretty hard hitting questions. The answers:

1. "To wit". In the future, I will be more careful with my idiomatic toss-offs.

2. I think the Flightplan boycott discussion belongs in this blog, if it belongs anywhere. I feel this way for a couple of reasons. It's celebrity news, so unless it concerns Sandra Feldman's passing, then The Union Lawyer probably won't blog about it. And Sandra Feldman, godresthersoul, was not really a celebrity. The other reason is, this boycott is annoying. (Sub-reason: I like Jodie Foster.) People can tell the difference between real flight attendants and fake-ass flight attendants in a movie, and flight attendants should not getting all heroic over nothing, i.e. this movie. This boycott does nothing to illuminate the labor struggles of workers in the airline industry (which are legion) and everything to (a) publicize this movie and (b) make the flight attendants' union look like they are pitching a fit til their next order of bon-bons arrives. Not that I think flight attendants eat bon-bons or anything (although a publicized boycott of this website might get it some actual readers), but you can well picture the scene.

I would just note that labor lawyers did not boycott Enemy of the State, even though Will Smith was a labor lawyer in that movie (okay, so he was the good guy), and his labor lawyer bosses and clients were protrayed as weak or mafioso. I recognize that my point is not well-made by this comparison. But I recommend this tagline from Enemy of the State to the Flight Attendants: "It's not paranoia if they're really after you."

In the case of the Flightplan boycott, I say this: Flight attendants: they are not after you; it's paranoia.

Sorry to Harsh Your Mellow

In case you were feeling all giddy from Tom DeLay's Recent Unpleasantness, here's a few questions from Mike Davis about what the hell happened in New Orleans. Thanks, Dunes. If you are not already familiar with Mike Davis, read Ecology of Fear or City of Quartz. That way you won't have to hear me blather on about him if the topic of Los Angeles ever comes up between us.

This Should Make Your Day!

Ding dong, the Witch has been indicted. Buh-bye, Tom DeLay.



DeLay's indictment has the same pigs-can-fly-in-frozen-hell feel to it as the news that a giant squid has finally been photographed.

My Brain Seeped Out of My Ear

Thank you, Kimi Peck, for your efforts. Now, formerly homeless Chihuahuas can distinguish themselves on the fields of glory, competing for the World's Fastest Chihuahua.

What's your problem, Dre? You are probably wondering. Frankly, I don't have an answer to that question.

From Beyond the Watery Remains

Allen! Greetings from New Orleans. Suze and I have for the most part been enjoying ourselves. We had one glitch the other night getting help up outside this divey 9th ward joint called Vaughn's. The kid couldn't have been more than 13, the gun he was pointing at us looked older. Anyway, it's nothing a few sazeracs won't cure. Southern hospitality does exist, provided you don't get shot first. TaTa Rich

This site, Greetings From New Orleans, is a great fake "found art" project that y'all should check out. Pre-K, this guy made 99 postcards, wrote out stuff on the back (addressed to an address in Ohio), put a stamp on them and "lost" them all over New Orleans. 47 of the cards were helpfully put in mailboxes by their finders, and the artist has put his cards up. Normally Mardi Gras photography is a genre that annoys the living sh*t out of me, but under the present circumstances, these are quite striking. Enjoy.

This is Just Good for a Quick Chuckle

McSweeney's article today on G.W.'s unqualified successes in office so far.

Speaking Truth to Power

Here's one of the more reasonable letters appearing in the Montgomery Advertiser today:

I would like to know how a official in an Arabian horse association was chosen by the administration as the head of FEMA, and if there were any connections with Saudi Arabian oil contacts and the administration governing his obvious political appointment. I think a full investigation is needed to find out why the president approved this selection. John Crookston Montgomery

The rest of the letters are so nonsensical that I can't even summarize their main points. But I do like the Bright Idea that Arabian horses and Saudi oil interests aligned to get "Brownie" his job at FEMA.

More Slow News Day Photos

Like a slow news day on Channel 7, I fill the void with human interest footage. I don't have the video of the squirrel on the waterskis or anything. Instead here are some pix from Fireman Doodle. And I don't know what's up with the blue font. Sorry.

I Finally Figured Out Links

Notice that I managed to navigate the sophisticated underbelly of this program to include links, so if you have one, let me know, and I'll add it.

Can Someone From Montgomery Please Tell Me What's Going On??

I earlier posted that liberals were at the helm at The Montgomery Advertiser during Katrina. But apparently the change is permanent in the cartoon editorial department (assuming such a department exists). Or folks are getting really pissed. I know Bobby Bright is, and not in a good way. He's advocating that folks arm themselves, probably against the evacuees that landed in Mongum'ry.

Tales Too Amazing to Be Fiction

Thanks to Pooplatter, I was steered to this DailyKos bit'o'brilliance. Check it out.

The Truth about Those Roberts' Kids

BlameBush! has this awesome piece about those wacky Roberts' kids. It does stoke my theory that Jack has a bit of the Ron Reagan about him. Since I guess bloggers are supposed to constantly credit one another so that their Blog Shares go up: Thanks, UTR.

Do They Have the Authority to Do This?

Yahoo News! has this headline: Olsen Twins Pick Boy Successors. It's too bad that there aren't two Jack Roberts in this world*. I wondered what they were going to do when they got too old for their little 'tween empire-building. This frees them up to be the next Doublemint twins, fug-style.

By the way, Get Your War On has been replenished. And it's chicken soup for the abandoned, poverty-stricken corpse's soul.

*Who knows, maybe there are. Jack was adopted from Ireland. Maybe there's another wacky tyke out there just like him.

The Jack Roberts Album

This is awesome.




What gang is Jack a member of? (Thanks, pooplatter.)

It's A Start, I Guess

The New York Times has this story on Bosnian peace efforts:

BOSNIA: COMING TOGETHER OVER BRUCE LEE The ethnically divided Bosnian city of Mostar has agreed to erect a new symbol of unity - a statue of the martial arts legend Bruce Lee, left, beloved of the city's Muslims, Serbs and Croats alike. The statue, cast in bronze and showing the star in a fighting pose, will be designed by a local sculptor and put up in Mostar's central square in November. Mr. Lee's widow, Linda, will be invited to attend the ceremony. A civic group in the strife-ridden city developed the idea in 2003, and recently won a $6,250 donation from a German organization to finance the project. Veselin Gatalo, a member of the organizing group, said, "This will be a monument to universal justice that Mostar needs more than any other city I know." (Reuters)

Maybe if we buy them all a Coke, they'll live in harmony.

Jack Roberts Rocks!

There is a picture in the NYT this morning (page A17) that I cannot find on the web, showing Jack Roberts yawning during the confirmation hearing yesterday. It turns out they did not make the kids sit there all day (Roberts himself looked like he could barely stand to be there, and I wonder if his lip will ever recover from all that chewing).

Jack also started the morning with some muscle-flexing for the press, but no one has put the pictures on the web. If someone can find them, send me a link.

All this, combined with his known krumping, makes me think that Jack Roberts may turn out to be a non-lame Ron Reagan.

The Most Senseless and Awful Thing I Have Seen This Week (well, almost)

You must be wondering: What is more senseless and awful than the destruction wrought by Hurricane Katrina (and the willful ignorance of generations of politicians/governments, etc etc)?

Answer: A Burning Man attendee trying to justify why he had fun at the festival, despite Katrina.

Now That's Good People

Thanks to Jen for passing this one along. The Tuscaloosa News reports that one Alabama football fan opened his heart, and his hotel room, to hurricane evacuees/refugees.

Billy Ray Moore has been coming to every University of Alabama football game since he can remember. And for years, this Florence resident has slept at the Hampton Inn on Harper Lee Drive. But the 57-year-old Moore won’t be at Bryant Denny/Stadium on Saturday. He’s staying home so a family that lost everything to Hurricane Katrina can use the room he/sreserved nine months ago.“This thing is catastrophic in so many ways," Moore said. “There is no way I could put even an Alabama football game above that.“I love Alabama football, but I love my fellow man even more."

Wow. I will let you make your own sarcastic, angry remarks.

By the way, lots of folks stuck in New Orleans are expressing anger that many troops and supplies have been mobilized to Iraq. They perceive Iraq as getting services that are needed in New Orleans. While the good people of Baghdad might quibble with that (and I doubt anyone in the Superdome knows about the stampede), this attitude really increases the pressure on Bush and Congress to get their act together and fix this debacle. Probably most folks left in New Orleans were not pro-Bush, pro-war to start with, but the scenes painted by the news, coupled with the reiteration of this anger, could really fuel anti-war sentiment nationally.