I can palm a wrecking ball

Here's a picture of my brother-in-law's hand on top of a grizzly bear's pawprint in Alaska. Jeff proceeded to hunt down the animal and inflict mortal wounds with a boomerang.

See, writers can talk

Here's some thoughts Hendrik Hertzberg shared at his talk yesterday. He’s the New Yorker journalist that I mentioned earlier in the week.

• Hertzberg sees the US form of democracy (the oldest surviving democracy on the planet) as an innovative, cutting-edge design for 1789, but something that needs to evolve for the 21st century. The Constitution itself, in his opinion, lives and breathes and shouldn’t be treated as sacred scripture. Those who drafted the original would be aghast to see it treated as such. He believes a more ideal political construction would incorporate more elements of a parliamentary system. He seems to think that an executive branch dependent upon the legislative branch makes more sense than two completely independent, self-serving branches. The checks and balances would come from the voters at election time, rather than from the other branches of government. Right now, the typical voter doesn’t believe he/she holds any power to determine the political course of the country. Even if they elect a candidate, it’s not guaranteed that the candidate’s proposed programs will come to fruition (think Universal Healthcare, Clinton administration). Instead, we should vote for a candidate and give them much freer reign to implement their programs. A referendum will come 4 years later when the populace decides if they like it or not.
• Using the essence of his own language, if DC was to turn into the modern Pompeii, those excavating the entombed remains of our city would characterize this society as Ancestor Worshippers. Think bearded dudes on huge chairs and 19-foot statues surrounded by rotundas.
• Elections (which he thinks we have way too many of, and nobody can keep up with them all) should follow a new model. There can be multiple candidates from multiple parties. The bottom one or two after the first vote get knocked off. Then we vote again. Knock off a couple more. Eventually we will have an election where one candidate gets a clear majority. Obviously there’s logistics that need to be addressed, most of which he didn’t have time to explore. According to Hertzberg, this model would allow multiple parties to participate, yet those with similar philosophies won’t destroy each other(think Bush/Gore/Nader ’00). Also, the person who does finally get elected will have a better idea from where his/her support comes from and might govern accordingly (if a libertarian candidate gets ousted in the second to last vote, it will be obvious in the next round where most of those libertarians votes go. Their votes might be enough to bring a certain candidate’s total over 50%. That candidate will have to keep in mind that without the libertarian block, he/she wouldn’t be in office).
• He has serious doubts about whether Hilary can overcome the electorate’s need for a candidate with a ‘macho’ image (gotta put a smack down on that terrorism, yo!) in ’05. He also thinks the irony of her standing as a feminist icon, yet having relied so heavily on the position of her husband to attain public prominence might prove troublesome.
• He doesn’t know much about CAFTA, but he supports globalization and free-trade
• His forty year career studying and working in politics has convinced him that most politicians have good intentions. The problem lies more with the system and less with the people.
• He thinks Jimmy Carter’s political benevolence surpassed that of other politicians by 10%, but his political adeptness lagged by 10%. He has Pres. Carter’s email address. He doesn’t use it very often. When he does, Carter responds within minutes.

So that’s a whole bunch of regurgitation and not much analysis. I’d be happy to share my opinions on his opinions anytime, but I gotta catch a really cheap bus to New York.

Also, I saw the Thievery Corporation last night. Quickly: their most recent album includes guest vocals on a number of the tracks, many of whom are too busyto tour with TC. Beyond that loss, the lead vocalist for their best-known hit "Lebanese Blonde" committed suicide. Finally, their music is diffucult in many ways to translate to a live-show, stage forum. Even dealing with all these impediments, I think they managed to pull off an overall spectacular show. But now i really have to go, so I’m going to trust that my buddy Jake and I had similar thoughts and let his review in DCist do the job.

rant, rant...rave, rave

I have issues with this article in the 'Style' section of the Post today. In a nutshell the article praises shade as the glorious alternative to summer's blistering sun. Stylistically, it weaves its message in a semi-poetical, semi-philosophical, semi-I'm-writing-an-essay-for-my-CreativeWriting101-class sort of way. All that is well and good.

Two things:

1)They use the following quote:

"Shade is a big-time thing these days," says Michael Jones, a federal government
worker, mopping sweat from his brow in Lafayette Park yesterday afternoon. He
watches a game of blitz chess at one of the concrete tables set up around the
park's walkways, standing about three feet out of the sunlight. "There are days,
over in Dupont, where we'll actually pay one of the homeless guys to move from a
chess table in the shade."

Are you F'ing kidding me! First of all, nobody should ever think that, let alone say it. Secondly, the Post printed it! If you can convince me the editor/author was making a subtle point about the arrogant demeanor of that man, and maybe by extension the typical DC professional in relation to 'homeless guys', perhaps i'd support it. But reading through the rest of the article doesn't leave that sort of impression. Instead, I think they printed it simply to try and relay the degree of sweltering summer heat in DC. It's not right to print that line in this context. It focuses on him saying 'it's hot' and ignores the fact that he's an ignorant, arrogant bastard. I don't want his quote representing me or anybody else melting in our swamp.

2)They make it sound like the shade actually does offer respite from the heat! That's the worst part of summer here: There is no escaping the heat. You can run for shade all you want, it's not going to do much. The humid heat literally swallows and suffocates you. I went running at 11 PM last night, after a thunderstorm came and supposedly booted out the evil heat spell we've been slowly rotting under. Granted it was cooler. Ten minutes into my run, however, i was dripping in sweat and overheating like a furnace. You just can't get away from it, ever. I strongly recommend that anyone who doesn't have towering political ambitions-or a return flight-avoid DC like the plague during summer months...even N. Virginia offers a pleasant escape.

Ronny Turiaf's Girlfriend a Candidate for Sainthood

As reported in my hometown Spokesman-Review, Ronny Turiaf, the West Coast Conference Men’s Basketball Player-of-the-Year and Second-round draft pick to the Los Angeles Lakers who underwent open-heart surgery yesterday, was touched by an angel at Stanford University Medical Center when his girlfriend “paid for her own flight from the Seattle area to be present while the surgery was being performed”.

“The altruism defies words,” said Rev. Joseph Hingle, Ms. Thomas’ pastor in Washington. “The community gathered together and managed to raise the $278 to support her blessed pilgrimage, but Tracy sprinkled us with holy water and pressed 'Purchase' before we could stop her. You know what else, she paid twenty dollars extra to arrive an hour earlier. Today, we have truly seen the work of the Lord.”

Rev. Hingle’s thoughts were echoed by the masses gathered outside the hospital in Palo Alto to welcome Ms. Thomas.

When asked whether they were aware of the situation surrounding her abrupt arrival, most spectators struggled to answer. “Her brother was injured in Pamplona a couple weeks ago,” said one confused fan. “But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that Tracy’s here and she’s gonna be okay.”

Ms. Thomas’ trading cards will be available later this week at the CatholicStore, and it was rumored they were valued at a higher price than her boyfriend’s Upper Deck Rookie Card.

**On a slightly more serious note, it looks like the surgery was successful without having to completely replace the heart valve. Perhaps Ronny and his wobbly ankles will be dropping 15 foot jumpers in the big leagues after all.

Diversions, great and small

I went and saw March of the Penguins last night. It’s one of those movies that’s so endearing it’s almost nauseating at times. The movie traces the breeding ritual of Emperor Penguins in the inhospitable ice-world of Antarctica. Among the wacky things of note are a treacherous march to the interior ice fields, riotous mating dances, the absurdity of monogamous breeding, penguin chicks sticking their little beaks up their parents’ throats to ingest regurgitated food and the single-minded obsession with protecting a fragile life in -80F temperatures with winds topping 100mph. It’s almost impossible to keep anthropomorphic projections out of your psyche and remember that your watching birds. Some don’t make it, and you feel human emotions course through in response. It’s crazy. The thing is that anybody can tell you about this, but it only really hits home when you take in the visual feast yourself. If nothing else, the alien Antarctic landscape and the thought of filming under such punishing circumstances should be enough to captivate your attention for 90 minutes. I highly recommend anyone with a pulsating heart and the ability to imagine the unlikelihood of a polar bird’s existence to see this movie.

Also, I checked out Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last week. Stop reading if you don’t want to hear what I have to say. Okay, for those still on board. I was disappointed with the movie. I fully expected Tim Burton to take his usual artistic liberties and play with the original, but I expected him to do it successfully. He didn’t, in my opinion. The imagery that captivated in the original was still there, but in many cases it was almost exactly reproduced, not very developed or evolved. What irked me most, though, was Burton’s treatment of Willy Wonka himself. I find it hard to imagine a character more befitting of Tim Burton’s treatment than Willy Wonka. The complexity, depth, and idiosyncrasy of Wonka (brilliantly played by Gene Wilder in the original) practically begs for Burton to let his fingers dance with those puppet strings and create something beautifully weird. In truth, Burton could have cut the strings and let Johnny Depp take over. Unfortunately, Depp didn’t even get a chance because the script wouldn’t allow it. Instead, Wonka hardly even materialized as a multi-dimensional character and emanated disturbing hints of Michael Jackson in a purple suit. I’m far from ideologically opposed to remakes, especially when the new breath has a touch of mischief/ bizarreness. Burton’s Wonka, however, doesn’t even come close to the original that included an epic score, a much better ending, and an unforgettable Wonka.

personal value underscored by internet survey

Here's the current results of an internet study trying to determine the most popular generic names for soft drinks in different parts of the US. You can represent your county by voting in this highly sophisticated, scientific study of great import. Please pay special attention to the "Conclusion" section that masterfully summarizes the fruits of this critical research. Two questions: Why can't the south understand that calling all soft drinks "coke" is comparable to calling all cars "buicks"? And secondly, regarding those wacky green people in parts of Virginia, North Carolina, New Mexico, etc., what do they actually call soft drinks?

Extra: My buddy John gave me the heads-up on Hendrik Hertzberg's talk this Thursday at the Barnes and Nobles in Georgetown. Hertzberg's work in the New Yorker has always struck me as incisive, witty journalism and it doesn't surprise me that he became the Editorial Director recently. Newsweek and The New Republic harvested his talents before this. Aside from all that useless journalism crap, he served as White House staff throughout the Carter administration, including chief speechwriter from '79-'81. All this with a BA. The Harvard Magazine's deputy editor lauded one of his own in this exhaustive, and exhausting, article about Hertzberg that i haven't finished yet because boondoggling can only persist so long.

words

The specter passed in raven hue
From sun to set, yet seen by few

It whispered wisdom silently
That calmed the churning, violent sea

“This is the dawn, this is the day”
While footsteps danced across the bay

And silken gypsies wove a spell
That babes in carriage grew to tell

The amber glow of warm mystique
Massaged dried vocal chords to speak

Accordion thrust, violin
Resonant sync above the din.

Beneath majestic oaken tree
Enveloped in dark cavity

Lay a nymph in troubled dream
Spiraling vortex, balance beam

Awoke she did to crystal light
Clarity washing demon night

Jasmine wafts from emerald lee
Graced her ear with a distant plea

“This is the dawn, this is the day,
With words to say and songs to play.”

Hopefully 'Informer' is next

I love Snow. Maybe you’ve heard of this anomaly: Paul Anka, the legendary 50’s teenage idol and prolific singer/song-writer, has released an album entitled Rock Swings that features classic 80’s rock songs remade with a big-band sound and lounge vocals. Check out short clips of each of the following masterpieces (click on the colorful voodoo circles next to the songs, for those technologically challenged readers):

1. It’s My Life (Bon Jovi)
2. True (Spandau Ballet)
3. Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)
4. Everybody Hurts (REM)
5. Wonderwall (Oasis)
6. Blackhole Sun (Soundgarden)
7. It’s a Sin (Pet Shop Boys)
8. Jump (Van Halen)
9. Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana)
10. Hello (Lionel Richie)
11. Eyes Without a Face (Billy Idol)
12. Lovecats (The Cure)
13. The Way You Make Me Feel (Michael Jackson)
14. Tears In Heaven (Eric Clapton)

The man who composed the original ‘Tonight Show’ theme and 'My Way' (Sinatra mega-hit) has produced what I think is an innovative, artistic, and simply cool album. I’m sure there’s no shortage of people that feel otherwise and i fully anticipate hearing annoying, supercilious tirades from the more vociferous members of this faction. Normally, I too would loath anything of this sort but I think he infused enough raw talent and ingenuity into these songs to make you focus less on their cultural import and more on their pure musical value (yes, that does include “Eye of the Tiger”). If that sparks your interest, check out this interview with the man himself.

I still don't like 'em

There's people out there doing crazy things. I read an article in this week's New Yorker (article not yet available electronically) that delved into the esoteric world of leech research. Some highlights follow:

• Leeches have 3 jaws arranged in a Y-shaped pattern, each of which contains about 100 teeth. After latching onto the flesh-o-the-day (actually, they feed much less frequently…some leeches can live up to a year between meals), they penetrate skin by sawing through with their miniscule teeth.
• There are 4 commercial leech farms in the world, one in each of the following countries: England, France, Germany, and Russia.
• In 2004, the FDA authorized leeches for use as medical devices. Leeches can play a crucial role in microsurgery, such as helping to reattach severed limbs. The only other FDA-approved application of live animals as medicinal instruments is maggots: they feed only on necrotic flesh, hence, when applied to wounds, they will consume infected tissue while leaving healthy tissue untouched.
• Speaking of bloodletting, I learned why those red and white striped poles always adorn barbershops. During the nineteenth century, ‘barber-surgeons’ not only cut hair, but also bled patients (common-knowledge?).
• Contrary to popular belief, leeches reside in a wide variety of climates. Some of the more outrageous cases mentioned in the article include a species in the Sahara that resides in the nose of camels, one than attacks the armpits of turtles, and another that loves nothing more than a hippopotamus anus.
• Medicinal leeching traces its roots back millennia, including mentions in both ancient Sanskrit and Greek writings, and reached a zenith in the early-mid 19th century (the latter can largely be accounted for by the influence of Francois Joseph Victor Broussais, a surgeon for the Napoleonic armies, who believed all diseases traced their roots to inflammation of the gastrointestinal tract. Starvation and bloodletting were the commonly prescribed cures).
• Leeches are hermaphrodites.
• The giant leech is real! These other-worldly slugs patrol the waters of the Amazon basin, grow to rival the size of a man’s forearm, and feed by inserting a six-inch long needlelike proboscis (think skinny, mutated elephant trunk) into its host. Attack of the Giant Leeches and The Leech Woman were documentaries, didn’t you know that.
• Leeches operate with a more sophisticated technique than simply sucking blood. Upon penetrating through the skin, they release an anesthetic from tiny ducts in-between their teeth. You might feel a quick prick, but probably won’t pay too much attention since the pain subsides quickly. Once the leech opens its treasure chest of blood, it capitalizes on its opportunity. First of all, leeches spit out anti-coagulant to ensure the flood keeps flowing. Next, they inject a vasodilator into their luscious concoction to open up blood vessels. As if that wasn’t enough, leeches complete their recipe by including a spreading factor, which moves the chemicals quickly to remote tissues, encouraging these cowering tissues to relinquish their prized blood.

So that’s cool. Now I want to figure out more about those damn centipedes that dart around DC and give me the willies. Oh, my brutal trench-warfare battle-of-attrition with Dell and Ebay finally came to a victorious end. I now have a functioning laptop. It might still be a concrete Dell, I might still be stuck with Windows, but atleast I can check The Onion whenever I want.

The thin, oxygen-deprived air in mountainous Kenya has required that lungs adjust to cope with this deficiency. As a result, Kenyans can process sparse amounts of oxygen into energy at an abnormally high rate. This means that when you and i are busy writing our wills in a 10K, they're collecting trophies. NPR ran an interesting story this morning describing how many of those prominent distance runners in Kenya are defecting to other countries in pursuit of lucrative training stipends. When i say 'lucrative', of course, i mean they make enough money to live (one representative runner has been offered $1000/month for the remainder of his life from Qatar, compared to the $1000 that many runners subsist on over an entire year in Kenya). Although the United States, Denmark, Finland and other wealthy, western countries have certainly gathered their share of these incredible athletes, a sizeable majority have jumped across the Red Sea to oil wealthy Gulf states such as Qatar and Bahrain. I'm guessing both money and locality contribute here.

The influx of international athletes into the US and other countries is nothing new. The NBA alone has a slew of players from other countries: Manu Ginobli (Argentina), Yao Ming (China), and let us not forget Manute Bol (Sudan...who apparently tried to start a DC area night club with some of his funds and failed miserably...and also only weighed 185 lbs upon entering the NBA...the guy was 7'7 for the love of god!). [Bonus: here's a list of international athletes taken in the 2005 NBA draft.] The difference with Kenya's defecting runners is that most of the athletes must change their citizenship in order to collect funds from their adopted nations. What does this mean for the Olympics? Does it mean that countries can essentially 'buy' teams?

We're heading towards a day when races essentially disappear as international travel and opened-mindedness (hopefully) accelerate and augment miscegenation throughout the world. Given long enough, the underlying racial component inherent in the Olympics will largely become a thing of the past. If one race or group of people has a genetic predisposition to excel at a particular sport, their seeds will someday spread across the globe. Therefore, although i don't like the idea of poor countries losing their most valuable assets, I think this is just the beginning of a much larger movement that, mostly, bears great promise for equal opportunity and remuneration.

this comes from someone whose idealistic bent sees more trouble than triumph in nationalism and, governance issues aside, would like to see an eraser wipe away those arbitrary divisions on geo-political maps. Imagine (sorry, had to). Every fourth August I spend hours staring at a television trying to keep up on all the juicy competitions (minus baseball and softball in London). The Olympics are incredible and i can't wait for Turin and Beijing, but I can't help but think that the nation-oriented structure of the games will need revision at some point in the future. At the very least, i think we'll have to focus less on the country and more on the individuals themselves in order to really understand how the best became the best. Athletes should have free-reign, just as any other human being, to improve their lives by defecting to another country. whether or not they support the development of their homeland afterwards, where their families and history remain, is another question they'll have to face themselves. I can only hope they'd answer in a certain way.

a whole bunch of little colored squares

Check out some other photos from my Massachusetts rally. Also, the next time I sneaze, i'm going to try really hard to say Massa...aaa....aaahhhhh....CHOOOO....setts!

Seeing as how it's friday night, i'm in New Orleans, and i'm sitting in my hotel room, I thought I should write about ridiculous things for this ridiculous situation (you can only spend so much time wandering bourbon street on your own before you descend into a sordid spiral of filth; as cool as a bunch of statisticians, economists, and fisheries scientists can be...and they can...they certainly aren't cool at late hours).

So here goes:
It seems there was a chicken that got it's head cut off in the forties and lived without this usually vital appendage for 18 months. The creative folks in Colorado christened him Mike the Headless Chicken. After a change of heart, his owner decided that feasting on Mike after slaughtering him with an axe was a mean-spirited idea, so he dedicated himself to feeding and watering him with a syringe, allowing him to triple his weight and then some. Hmmmm, maybe a bit sketchy? Maybe not. The axe blade missed his jugular vein, and a blood clot ensured that the rooster retained enough blood to survive. Also, the axe landed high in his neck which left most of the brain stem intact. Mike received his due praise when Life and Time magazines both wrote stories about the phenom, and Guinness World Records later honored him as the "Longest Surving Headless Chicken". I mean, if Guinness says so...

Side note, i'm an idiot and didn't know that a rooster was an adult male chicken. Is this common knowledge? probably.

Also, it does rain more on weekends, atleast in the northeastern United States. Yet another reason to stop driving gas guzzling SUV's. Then again, I'm sure people are just doing it to temper the hurricanes.

Something good

After the brutal yet ,sadly, unsurprising attacks in London yesterday, it's a natural next step to search for uplifting signs. The tired black-and-white Bushian rhetoric, even Tony Blair's eloquent and oft impassioned messages, didn't do much to offer inspiration. Instead, I found the stories from the ground to be most moving. USA Today ran this article detailing how droves of bloggers recounted their personal experiences and used the blog as a vehicle to relay their status to friends and family. Again, i find myself exhilerated to see how so many different people have both access and motivation to voice their stories. I think this is just on more telling example of how powerful this medium, and others like it, can be.

On another note, a sense of anxiety hung over much of New Orleans today. They just released the public announcement at 4 pm today that the city will not be evacuated yet. if the storm takes a last minute western veer, we might be hangin' out in cajun' country another day or two. Luckily happy hour has arrived the quelm those fears and propel sensible people to nonsensical calm. Judging by the latest forecast, NO rests well to the west of the eye and should only experience peripheral effects. I talked to a few people at our meeting today who live on the islands along the Florida and Alabama gulf coast. They're still struggling to piece their lives together from Ivan last year and now look down the throat of another major hurricane that threatens to annhialate their communities once again. i feel bad for these people and really hope the trip over the Gulf doesn't allow enough time for the storm to maintain high 4 or even category 5 potential.

I'm off to be nonsensical in that work-related-dinner-yet-still-hanging-out-in-new-orleans type way.

the scariest thing is the grandfather clock in the lobby

i know everybody out there has been worried sick about my safety and security down here in the Big Easy, so let me just assure everyone it's okay. i cannot bear to hear another heart wrenching tale of friends gathered in commemoration, holding hands and singing gentle odes to my memory. i cannot stomach the thought of sobbing, lonely bodies...broken and battered as they sob with their heads hung dejectedly in between shaking knees. let the trumpets blow and the choirs of angels rejoice, and.....
....okay, i'll stop.
anyways, new orleans is completely fine. according to the cab driver, they received a little rain and a battering by the wind yesterday, but the tropical storm was long gone by the time we arrived. what's funny is that dc will probably get the remnants while I sip dollar brews on bourbon (ha, ha). the real worry is denis in the gulf. should be interesting.

also, my girlfriend, kristy, is famous because she was at the district court in dc taking care of the paperwork for this huge acquisition before rushing back to the justice department to help with press releases (although never trust her drink recommendations...mint juleps should be banished from the planet)

sevenslashfourslashzerofive

A warzone of sorts on the National Mall where hordes braved security checkpoints to scope the show. The ever-lurking nastiness of DC's summer abated momentarily this weekend, allowing for a bunch of people crammed together like sardines in a tiny tin box (thank you, mr. yorke) to remain relatively unexasperated.



The Washington monument weathered a deluge of fireworks exploding in its midst. A cacophony of echoing explosions off the federal buildings to the north redoubled the relentless, deafening blasts. I have to admit, the show was pretty impressive from the Mall. Plus, I felt relieved to discover that I wasn't the only one making wise cracks about the phallic symbol's failure to use protection. C'mon, it was way too easy.

Tropical Storm, Tropical Shmorm...

"I've got an idea, let's fly to New Orleans!"
"Great idea, Phil. Tell you what, you fly first and we'll be right behind you [snicker, snicker...snort, snort]."
"That's cool, guys. I'll fly tomorrow and just meet you down there."
[Aside] "Oh my god. The idiot bought it. Let's get outta here." [To nimrod Long] "Uhhh, right on man. See you there."[Sounds of disappearing running shoes on gravel]