Nice try, gamers...now go vote

As one might suppose, going back to skoooool in a math-heavy area isn't the easiest thing when you haven't touched that math for 6+ years. Unexpectedly, that coincides with me not blogging very much at a time when I should be running my yapper nonstop. If I had time to dictate here all the ways in which the McCain campaign has spiraled into the abyss of dishonesty and dishonor, I'd probably exhaust Blogger's server space. So let me just add this: Obama has placed ads inside videogames that link to the internet. These ads will run through the election, and will then be removed. Now that's change we can believe in.

A shallow show

I'll give John McCain credit. He acknowledges an ugly situation when it confronts him.

The political waters have finally started to shift away from the vacant smile of Governor Palin and focus on the potential governance of the presidential candidates. Almost across the board, the issues favor the Obama campaign and nowhere is that more true than in the economic arena. For all my ideological love of capitalism--and suffice it to say that Ayn Rand is one of the foremost influences in my adult life (in a positive way!)--I still believe, in this imperfect world, that the role of government in the financial sector is crucial. In particular, oversight must be firm when taxpayer dollars are involved and this has been a cornerstone of Obama's message since the beginning.

So now comes John McCain's utterly politically-motivated move to forestall the first debate. McCain's notion that he and Obama's presence in Washington would help and not hinder the process is ludicrous. The injection of presidential politics into this crucial piece of legislation can only hurt and McCain is again risking the well-being of american taxpayers after his irresponsible choice of vice presidential running mate. Furthermore, the idea forwarded by McCain here is that he's indispensable in solving this problem, which is the one laughable aspect of this otherwise grim scenario. He does have quite the economics background... I 100% agree with Obama that this is the ESSENTIAL time to have a presidential debate and talk about big solutions. Economics is deeply intertwined with national security and foregin policy, so it should be probed deeply in tomorrow's debate. The over-presence of those two individuals in Washington will be damaging, while the presence of those two in Mississippi will be illuminating and instructive for american voters.

A Falling Soldier

Strangely, school is very time-consuming. Who'da thunk it?

Like everyone else, I've been watching the presidential campaign play out over the last few weeks. I made no bones about my disgust regarding Sarah Palin's speech at her convention. But much more dangerous is her selection in the first place. She is so grossly unprepared for the enormity of the vice-presidential position and, most especially, the higher-than-normal possibility of transferring to the Oval Office that anyone serving under a septuagenarian McCain with a history of cancer will be assuming. This is an appalling move by John McCain to risk the well-being of the country for political expediency. Regardless, I still think this selection is actually a misguided step and won't ultimately play out to his advantage.

Anyways, I recommend taking a minute to read this article by Elizabeth Drew who penned a sympathetic biography (i admittedly haven't read it) about McCain a few years back. I agree with the things that she used to admire about McCain and wholeheartedly agree with the deterioration of those qualities as he's pandered to the Republican base, increasingly compromised his character to ugly campaign tactics, and demonstrated disturbingly spur-of-the-moment behavior with crucial decisions.

It's easy to caricature a politician running against your favored candidate as races tighten and draw towards a close. The difference here is that these aren't exaggerations. The McCain campaign deliberately lied about Obama's positions to blacken his name and deliberately lied about Sarah Palin's positions to make her look like an actual reformer. This cannot pass. Any moderately inteligent American voter will have to see through this. The Palin spark is now starting to recede as any ephemeral sugar rush does and some dose of reality is returning.

In my opinon...

...you should check out my buddy Evan's Op-Ed piece published in the Seattle Times yesterday. He write stuff good.

Painful Palin

It looks like it's about time for some politics to surface here again. After hearing the substance and the optimism in Biden and Obama's speeches last week, Sarah Palin's speech was a miserable experience to behold. After spending the first significant portion dwelling on family minutiae to "introduce herself" followed by a laundry list of lines to perk the ears of different elements of the Republican base, Palin launched into an unapologetically vicious attack on Obama. The attacks were roughly half and half personal and issue-oriented. The personal attacks were many and varied. For instance, she managed to discount Obama's community organizing days in an acidic and mocking manner with a blase dismissal of anyone involved in such an undertaking. The issue-oriented attacks largely seemed half-truths phrased to blacken or distort Obama's intent. One example of this is how she talked about Obama wanting to raise a number of taxes...but she failed to point out that those will be raised for a small, wealthy percentage of the population while the overwhelming rest of us can anticipate decreases.

Most of this was to be expected. Palin certainly held her own as far as speaking and established herself as the Republican attack-dog. She accomplished well what was set out by the McCain campaign and the Republican party and she seemingly relished responding forcefully to the media storm last week. However, one can't help but feel that palpable difference in tone and message between the Democrats and Republicans this year. One side has ideas, optimism, and positive energy, the other side has energy to attack these things. I know the anger and excitement is high on the other side for the moment, but I can't help but think this will backfire in the end.

I'm an independent voter who will side with the better campaign and the better message. This year's contest is so starkly one-sided. She may have fired-up the Republican base, but she's going to fire up Obama's supporters even more. I'm donating as we speak.

A small step for a man

Well, tonight is the last night for many, many moons where I won't call myself a graduate student (read: 'poor'). After five years, 5 1/2 cities, 5 1/2 jobs, and a few overdoses of lack-of-direction, it seems I've found a good outlet for my next half-decade plus. I'll be working on a phd in biophysics here in Chicago. Namely, I'll be working on acquiring the Insert-Word-That-Starts-with-"D" + Doctor appendage to my ford-dealership-esque name. What any of what I just wrote means, please consult the authorities.

Please don't for a second fool yourself into thinking I have the first clue what I'll due upon (fingers crossed) graduation. If anything, this allows me to put off those heady questions for even longer. Huzzah! In the meantime, I plowed through alot of introspection determining the right program in the right city at the right time. For that, I am quite pleased.

I bid a fond farewell to grossly underpaying jobs that, nevertheless, were pretty cool in their own ways. I have admittedly gone through extended periods of silence over the last three years that drove most readers elsewhere. I can't blame them. Although I'm going to be busy, I anticipate that this bloggy blog will continue to stay alive...and likely morph into something a bit more involved in the near future.

Cheerio. Yummy O-ee-O.

Excuses, excuses

Among my handful of other excuses for being close-lipped this last month, I managed to make off like a bandit with my parent's car in Spokane and tear across the country back to Chicago. Please see some nifty pictures from K and I's trip.

Alaska '08

I've been less than garrulous lately. One reason for that is I disappeared to Alaska with my family for 10 days at the very end of July and into August. Here are some pictures AND (dun dun dun dun) video clips from the trip. The video comes from either a regular camera or a phone, so don't be expecting Lucas Film here.

Apparently, there's a new Batman movie

Warning: Annoying Movie Thoughts/Spoilers Ahead:

I finally joined the ranks of Batman: The Dark Knight viewers yesterday. I went into this movie with massive expectations, so the fact that it didn’t disappoint speaks volumes. I’m guessing I’ll be watching this one for years to come. Here’s some of my thoughts:

I was looking forward to a deeply sinister Joker. However, I thought his malevolence and sadism would be counterbalanced by a twisted lovability. Although he does carry out elaborate, and carefully-crafted schemes, I was hoping he would engage in battles of verbal wits or present his diabolical plans in puzzle form. Instead, Ledger’s Joker was a demented sociopath with little to love and much to revile. Since this is surely what the directors intended, I need another viewing to see if the notion grows on me. My first reaction, however, was nostalgia for the color of past characterizations.

Michael Caine gave my favorite performance as Bruce Wayne’s butler. Urbane, wise, proper, and sensitive, all flavored by a tiny sprinkling of silliness, he pulled off the role impeccably. I also continue to like Christian Bale as Wayne/Batman, although his Batman voice makes me cringe occasionally.

It’s impossible not to leave satiated by the eye candy. And sorry, Maggie Gyllenhaal, I like you but I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about sweeping panoramic shots of Hong Kong’s and Chicago/Gotham’s skylines, the underground laboratories, the sonar-generated simulations of various scenes around Gotham delivered by cell phone signals (neato idea), and of course, the action scenes (four of which were filmed at IMAX grade)…

…which leads me to my next point: nice work showcasing yourself, Chicago. My newly adopted city opened its arms to maniacal car chases on Wacker and demolitions aplenty and carried it all off with aplomb, if I do say so myself. Let me add, though, that it’s rare to see a firebombed semi on LaSalle. I always keep my eyes open for these things and have only spotted 2 or 3 in the last year. Also, I know the ferries were departing from the pier, but where, exactly, were they headed? Michigan? I was cool with considering the Chicago River as a barrier to the north and west, but gosh, those Gothamers might have considered spilling out the South Loop and catching I-90…needless to say, those parts took some suspension of disbelief, which I was more than willing to indulge.

As far as the issues go, terrorism and balance-of-power stand out. The Joker’s terrorism, however, is better characterized as anarchy. He is a walking oxymoron in that he employs shrewd reasoning to prove logic and order non-existent. Ultimately, he partially succeeds. Dent rots as a bastardized Two-Face and Batman flees with an angry Gotham at his heels. A few people make the decision—as a few made critical decisions earlier in the movie—that the truth cannot be tolerated by the masses. So really, The Joker has played a draw.

How this movie is rated PG-13, however, is something far beyond my analytical capabilities.

In a flash

I missed my 10 year high school reunion last weekend. My buddies gave me the update and tore through a whole sequence of names that I haven't considered in a decade. He's cool. She's hot. He's a drunk. She's not cool. He wasn't there. He's married. She's engaged. I have to admit, I was pretty bummed I couldn't make it home for this. I guess I experienced the typical pattern of thoughts in the face of a 10 year reunion:

For one, holy sh*t that was fast! I remember the sights and smells of high school so distinctly at times. I envision my locker, and see my parking spot, and smell the nachos, and remember the faces. On the other hand, I've gone a long ways in those 10 years. Geographically, psychologically, intellectually, emotionally. I could carry on a conversation with nearly anybody in my class, no problem, because I was fundamentally the exact same person. But so much of me hadn't come to fruition. Probably the biggest thing that's changed is I've fallen in love with challenging my mind. Laziness covered that spot before. High school was a time of self-discovery, friendships, unrequited loves, music, the thrill of drinking, and amazing Spokane nights. High school was personality coming to the fore and emotional development...but so much has happened since. I can only assume that everyone else in my class has gone through their own evolutions in the past decade and developed into their skins somehow.

In our daily lives we can only accommodate so many friends. Those near take precedence, because as Johnny Cash says, "flesh and blood needs flesh and blood". But for those farther than a stones throw, I want to find a way to reincorporate you. Really, I just want to throw stones at you, but I'll do it lovingly. So, the wrap-up is I'm bummed i couldn't make it to my reunion because those 10 years went pretty quick, and we'll only get a handful or two of ten year windows. I think we need to put something together for Christmastime.

purrrrrdy good

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Thanks to Kim W. for this...and (afterwards) every news organization on the planet.

Alefest, I heart thee

And on the seventh day, God rested. But in the afternoon of the seventh day, he became antsy from inactivity. Those preceeding 144 hours of brilliance left him craving invention. So God poured all his omnibenevolent forces into one last creation: Alefest. And it was good.

So needless to say, Alefest Chicago trucked into town on Saturday and I partook in the festivities along with some jolly companions (thanks to Annie for unwittingly providing a picture!). For a pittance of monetary input, we received the joy of sampling 20 potions from over 50 breweries worldwide. Let it be known that we went expecting small "tastings" and ended up getting about 1/2 a pint per tasting. Considering some of the belgian and framboise selections topped 10% alcohol and the tendency of some volunteers to forget taking tickets, 20 was streeeeeeeeeeeeetching it. I will proudly say that although I didn't finish the full tastings towards the end, I did indeed sample 20 beers. Actually 18, because I revisited my two favorites.

The fest took place on the grass directly outside the Chicago Bears' Soldier Field. My scheming to clandestinely enter the stadium either via scaling the walls or tunnelling underneath became more elaborate and idiotic as time elapsed. Sadly, these brilliant ideas did not come to fruition. Meanwhile, we endured some mugginess with an occasional rain and made the most of the stupendous libations flowing freely.

So let me quickly dispense with the beer-related criticism: One, I simply don't like pilsners. The aftertaste will never agree with me and I find them pungent. I've tried, maybe for the last time. Two, wheat beers are hit or miss for me. I love a good hefeweisen as much as the next summer reveler (think Widmer Brothers in Portland), but alot of wheat beers bear hints of Belgian white ales...which brings me to my third, and last, criticism. I'm not a fan of most Belgian whites. Again, there are exceptions like the widely distributed Blue Moon Belgian White. Add an orange slice to that beer and I'm in heaven. But that's the exception, unfortunately.

Okay, enough of the bad stuff, let's get to the good stuff...which was roughly 90% of the tastings. I'm going to list off my five favorites, counting towards the cream of the crop:

5) Samuel Smith's Pale Ale (Yorkshire, England): I liked the nuttiness and chocolatey flavor of this moderately dark ale. SS's brown is a favorite of mine, and you could taste the aroma of the brewery pervading their other selections. For me, that's a big winner.
4) St. Peter's Cream Stout (somewhere old, England): This will be a great winter selection. Creamy's the word with a full, lasting flavor.
3) Podkovan Dark Lager (Czech Republic): I liked this beer because it tasted like a delicious brown ale, but finished lighter.
2) Floris Apple (Belgium): I was surprised by this. A lambic brew akin to a cider. Fruity, light, and dry on the finish. A tiny bit of carbonation washes it down perfectly. So refreshing and not too sweet.
1) Breckenridge Brewery Vanilla Porter (Breckenridge, Colorado): I love vanilla for its simplicity and its rich tones, so when crafted into a smooth, delicious porter I was in heaven. This was hands down my favorite discovery.

If I would enhance this joyous experience in any way, I'd encourage some volunteers to learn more about the samples they poured. Many tables had representatives from the breweries or really knowledgeable volunteers, which was great. But there were a few instances where reading the bottle offered more information than the server. Also, they might want to beef up the food selections in order to keep the drinking merry and appease the hungry stomachs. All things considered, however, they did a phenomenal job with Alefest Chicago version 2.0 and I can't wait to upgrade a year from now!

Cheers to you, Alefest.

Rachmaninoff at Ravinia

There are a few professions I observe where, for a split second, it seems there is no comparable outlet for the myriad intellectual and emotional charges surging inside our bodies. When you see a person at the peak of that profession those feelings multiply. When you have a moment, kindly add ‘pianist’ to this short list of unrequited professional loves.

A certain someone I know harbors a questionably-healthy obsession for Rachmaninoff’s 3rd Piano Concerto. Therefore, when word surfaced that the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (CSO), along with a world reknown Russian pianist, Denis Matsuev, would be performing this number at the outdoor music venue Ravinia, nothing short of Lake Michigan drying up would stop us from attending.

CSO performed two other Rachmaninoff pieces without a featured piano part beforehand, which were both spectacular. That gave us a chance to appreciate the violin and cellos (among others) before the pianist absolutely dominated the show. After a brief intermission, Matsuev took center stage. As a bit of background, the 3rd Piano Concerto has driven accomplished pianists mad with its technical difficulty. Supposedly, only a handful of people on earth can complete a flawless performance and imbue the piece with all the nuances it requires.

Luckily, we stumbled upon one of these living legends. Matsuev, himself, evoked thoughts of a (relatively speaking) attractive Frankenstein. But that is neither here nor there. Well, it might be here a bit. Standing over 6 feet tall and fairly well-built with blocky shoulders and face, he almost made the huge piano look small. Matsuev exhibited a stage flair while playing, but it didn’t seem fabricated. The concerto was so demanding that at points he would drop one of his arms to the side for a brief rest and continue on with the other. Some moments I honestly thought the keyboard would crack under his relentless, but precise, hammering only to find respite a moment later in a soft, feather-light section demanding utmost delicacy. Within a nanosecond he could switch modes seamlessly. Throughout it all, the haunting melody of the concerto spun the threads together. You could physically see Matsuev pouring himself into the piece that lasted roughly 30 minutes and upon finishing it, he burst from the bench and embraced the orchestra conductor. We were positioned to the side of the stage near the front so I had a good view of Matsuev as he strode from the stage. His face looked exhalted and beaming.

Without exaggeration, I can say that was the most moving musical performance I’ve ever witnessed. Also, it surpassed Tim Reynolds’ solo guitar as the most technically challenging show I’ve witnessed at such close range.

Aside from the music, the venue itself made memories. Ravinia consists of the covered orchestra seating (our seats) that is, nevertheless, still open to the elements for 270degrees. Outside this orchestra area, large grassy swaths invite people to bring food and wine and enjoy the music from loudspeakers scattered throughout the grounds. From what I saw, these seats don’t offer a view of the stage, but they also only cost $10. Pretty sweet deal…..barring bad weather.

Unfortunately, bad weather came. And it came. And it came.

Thunderstorms swept through the area throughout the day, but a relative calm pervaded before the start of the show. We went up and met with some friends preparing their grassy perch just prior to the show but, alas, the rains returned. The sky was unforgettable: a solid bank of incredibly dark clouds came roaring in from the west bringing the storms with it. I’m pretty sure the four horsemen galloped on their steeds amidst that turmoil. K and I scrambled for cover down below and left our poor friends to fend for themselves. As it turns out, they found refuge under a covered area in one of the food/drink buildings and managed to make the most of the show. That does go to illustrate the dangers, however, of the grassy seats.

Anyways, the storms ripped and roared throughout the show. There were moments when the orchestra mounted a charge with drums banging, horns blowing, gongs ringing when, meanwhile, lightening blazed through the sky and deafening thunder followed shortly thereafter. All in all, mother nature choreographed herself impressively with the music.

Amazing

An incredible visual trip inside the body.
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A dip

Nothing short of a revelation dawned upon me last week: you can swim in Lake Michigan along the Chicago shoreline. Call it absurd (it is) that it took me 15 months to grasp this fact, but it made it no less exciting. Tonight, after babbling a week straight about intending to do so, I finally swam in Lake Michigan.

It was so easy. I put on my running shoes, grabbed an old towel, and took my apartment keys. That's it. In the hot and slightly humid early-evening sunlight, I ran down to the lake shore. There are two popular sandy beaches within a mile of my apartment, Fullerton and North Ave, so I picked a less congested spot between them. Although asphalt and concrete replaced sand, I could jump off a 5 foot ledge and get a real plunge into the lake.

I run along that shoreline multiple times each week, but I erected a mental barrier of non-possibility regarding swimming. Summer appetites, however, usurp caution so I started asking around. As it turns out, the water is tested a minimum of 5 times each week for safety conditions. Info is available here. Although unhealthy conditions do arise a couple times each year, the lake is almost always suitable for swimming and you can check online for updated status.

So that's all I needed to know. I hurled myself into the cold waters of Lake Michigan and let my body adjust to the temperature. Like Priest Lake in Idaho, after you get past the initial rush of icy chill, the water feels supremely refreshing. The high rise condos lining Lake Shore Drive started to shield the dropping sun, but I managed to find a 100 foot swath between buildings where I had all the sunlight I ever needed. There, in my little gap of heaven, I swam towards the John Hancock Building towering a mile south, but it looked like I could reach out and grab it (I swam in the bit of water just to the right of this photo). It was a surreal feeling to glide through that water with the Magnificent Mile so close, the runners and bikers and rollerbladers zooming along the lake path, and a pair of tennis shoes and a towel waiting for me up the ladder.

Ahh, summer in Chicago.

EuroCup '08

Along with the other 6.6 billion humans on earth, I watched the EuroCup soccer final between Spain and Germany (congrats to Spain!). Before the final, I managed to catch select games throughout the tournament. It struck me during the competition, as it strikes me every World Cup, that these international soccer matches surpass all other sporting events for viewer satisfaction.

One important explanation is the nature of soccer, itself. A soccer match plays two 45-minute halves, followed by extra periods or shootouts in the case of ties. Barring a particularly brutal injury or penalty, play essentially never stops throughout those 45 minutes. Whereas commercials, timeouts, pauses between pitches, or huddles slow other sporting events, the intensity remains high and constant throughout a good match. This also demands that soccer players exhibit not only quick-burst speed, but also formidable endurance. I am drawn to that well-rounded conditioning.

Furthermore, soccer requires relatively few accoutrements. Players wear cleats and shin guards—goalies wear gloves—but no other padding, protection, or tools are allowed. To me, there’s something elemental and fundamentally satisfying about that. The simplicity of the sport seems to focus your attention on the athleticism and the strategy without distraction. Also, if a ball of any kind can be found, any impoverished person throughout the globe can setup makeshift goalposts with shirts and play soccer. I love the inclusiveness of the sport.

But those explanations apply to any soccer match. What distinguishes international play is the rarity of so many people passionately uniting under a common, positive cause. I guarantee you that the Basques, Catalans, and Galicians never align themselves with the bulk of Spain as they do during an international soccer match. The 45million Spaniards would have married off their daughters in a heartbeat to rival ethnic groups yesterday evening! Although I always fear overzealous nationalism, in some ways, those drives can minimize internecine and interminable strife, if only momentarily. Now that’s rare. Watching that match and seeing images of Madrid, Barcelona, Berlin, and Munich, you honestly believed those cities were on the verge of erupting. The majority of that energy was positive. Compare, instead, other huge gatherings of similar energy, and you likely pinpoint a protest. These matches truly do supply something incredible in a uniquely positive light.

In general, I love all kinds of sports. If, however, an evil genie came and stripped all other competitions from me except one, I would choose the World Cup.

I Pee Ale

India Pale Ale, to be exact (I wrote this post just so I could use that title, followed by that line).

But it’s true. An important development has transpired over the last 1 ½ months. Heretofore, I’ve always found IPAs too bitter. However, since combining a Lagunitas IPA with Sonoma cuisine and discovering true euphoria, nothing less complex can satisfy right now.

It’s nothing novel to enter a new stage of preferences. I spent October ’07 through April ’08 salivating non-stop over New Belgium’s 1554, which will undoubtedly remain among my favorites. This latest stage, however, is a leap compared to historical trends. Although not a connoisseur by any means, I am a beer lover and many trysts litter my past (amber ales, brown ales, stouts, oatmeal stouts, lagers, hefeweizens, etc.). For all their character, none of these carried themselves with the sassiness of an IPA. Is this my mid-beer-drinking life crisis? Will I return to the past, mellow favorites after IPAs run their comparatively-flashy course?

All signs point to yes and no. Yes, as in, “Duh, Phil. IPA’s don’t mesh well with lots of foods and, just as moods shift and revisit themselves, so too do beer tastes.” No, in that my palette seems to have taken a seismic shift towards accommodating—and craving—more adventurous flavors. Coincidentally, my food tastes seem to be tracing a parallel course. All I can do is credit Sonoma with making it a lot harder to appreciate a $6 burrito and a Pabst.

Now we all know harder does not mean impossible. Nor, even, necessarily difficult, in an absolute sense. Just harder.

Fantas-y-tic

Chockronial Salamandus de Rosenstern bestowed upon me, a naïve peasant, George R.R. Martin’s (let’s be cool; let’s call him GRRM) fantasy series, A Song of Ice and Fire. I just finished the first book, A Game of Thrones. Here’s a couple thoughts on why this book rocked not only my world, but my solar system, too:

-GRRM includes a dauntingly large cast of characters in this first book. Furthermore, any author would impress with the number of characters alive. Martin, however, tops himself by referencing countless detailed legends of past heroes and relatives. Based on what I’ve heard of the subsequent books, these character threads—even those seemingly insignificant—continue. In a desirable twist of irony, this lends a sense of verisimilitude to his fantasy world.

-In a similar vein, rarely have I read an author who details clothing and related accoutrements without driving me comatose. I guess the pseudo-Middle Ages context of the story makes these details enticing. Examples include the broach fastening a cape, the rippled pattern of a princess’ dress, the velvet robes of a eunuch, or the bronze mold of a warrior’s helm.

-My just-barely-second favorite part of the book is GRRM’s willingness to treat primary characters, and notably, likeable characters with brutality. A head rolled in this book that I never anticipated losing through the entirety of the series. Some don’t die; they’re simply crippled, mutilated, or banished. It requires an incredible amount of time and imaginative force to develop a prominent character and your readers would start to develop an affinity for them. You sacrifice so much by severing a character's role, but GRRM understands that tragedy is gripping and elevates the fabric of a story. That’s when you know these books aren’t for the faint of heart, but they are for someone who wants an intense experience.

-Probably my favorite element of this book—and I think this might be what attracts his most ardent fans who came many years before me—is the human complexity. In other words, the characters become so nuanced that, unlike the preponderance of fantasy novels (atleast those I’ve read), it’s sometimes difficult to establish a moral hierarchy. GRRM accomplishes this partly through the narrative itself. Each chapter’s content comes from the perspective of a main character. You gather that individual’s thoughts for a short time, but then you’re left to guess until later. While inside someone’s mind, you discover that exterior gallantry need not always equate with fundamental goodness. Characters embody complex motives, some less than noble. Lastly, the perspectives of many of the more intriguing characters remain hidden from the reader. For example, the crafty and calculating members of the King’s counsel are seen only through the eyes of others.

Miura's bright idea

In honor of T-Hall and his Celtics' triumph, I need to give another shout out. The first, of course, ushered forth after he recommended the greatest restaurant in the western hemisphere. Today, however, I pay tribute for a movie recommendation that the transplanted Montanan provided.

The Man Who Skied Down Everest, documents Japenese skier/adventurer Yuichiro Miura's quest to ascend Mount Everest in 1970 and ski down a considerable portion of the upper mountain. (Warning: although they subtract nothing from the movie, some spoilers follow. You know all you need to know at this point to either be interested or disinterested in seeing the movie.)

Miura departed from Katmandu, Nepal with 800 people lugging supplies on their backs. The team included scientists, photographers, video crews, other skiers, and many hundreds of Nepalese helping to transport heavy equipment and rations up into the mountains. When the team reached the base of Everest, itself, experienced sherpas relieved the Katmandu residents of the remaining supplies, and a much smaller group ascended up into the perilous heights.

In a way, the plan was straighforward: climb to just below 27,000ft (Everest peaks at 29,028ft) to the South Col and ski down 8,000 vertical feet to the Bergschrund—a mammoth crevasse at the bottom of the Lhotse Face that cannot be crossed. Beyond 8,000 vertical feet spelled certain doom. Rescue crews were deployed along the route. Camera crews would capture the descent from the point of departure at 27,000ft, and also from three spots below with telescopic lenses.

Miura correctly calculated that his speed would reach unsustainable levels if unchecked. Therefore, they designed a parachute to deploy behind him as he skied to keep his speeds somewhat manageable. Astronauts, pilots, and sky divers had never deployed parachutes at 27,000ft above sea level, so there was no telling how the parachute might behave. Air is thin at that altitude, hence, many feared the parachute wouldn't catch and Miura would have no check on breakneck speed. Alternatively, imagine the winds that whip across the rooftop of the world. Perhaps, the wind would catch the parachute and literally lift Miura from the mountainside to an elegant, but inescapable death.

The climb itself proved hazardous and, for a few, fatal. Regardless, Miura persevered and decided to ski. He skied an unfathomable 6,600 vertical feet down Everest in 2minutes and 20seconds, and that was with a parachute! He slid an additional 1320 vertical feet to just above the crevasse. Furthermore, the slope angled at ~45degrees, which any recreational skier knows is treacherous in icy conditions. Imagine trying to control a rickety pair of skis under these conditions on Everest's wind-battered icy ramparts that laugh at the mere thought of a grooming machine?

This dramatic feat inevitably begs the question: was it worth it? A team of Japanese scientists participated in this adventure and managed to collect data ranging from physiological performance under alpine duress, geophysical measurements of Everest, and, of course, the behavior of a parachute at 27,000ft. They surely gathered some important data. The financial cost (3.5million dollars) far outpaced any immediate scientific/medical benefits, however. Furthermore, although no one forced them to participate, a number of Nepalese sherpas lost their lives when a monster ice field caved-in. All this for what?

Well, all this for the purpose of pushing human limitations and eking the most out of our fleeting existence on earth. In our own small ways, we each do this everyday. I can pinpoint people who don’t live out some measure of this philosophy; these people remain unfulfilled and unhappy. The impositions we place on ourselves regarding risk and reward are largely arbitrary. There’s no absolute barometer for knowing when your risk is justified or not. Only individuals can answer this question for themselves. No resident of Katmandu, no sherpa, no scientist, no skier, no photographer participated in this quest against their free will. The only element that gives me pause is when I consider those, including Miura, who had young children at the time. You assume additional obligations as a parent and have a responsibility to those you bring into this world who cannot yet fend for themselves. Judging by Miura’s thoughtful journal excerpts read (translated into English) throughout the movie, I trust Miura understood and cherished his obligations and settled this issue with his family (and himself) beforehand. I don’t think it’s a risk I could take as a young father, but my tenets are only my own, and I do understand the elation and importance of conquering what seems impossible. So, yes, with qualifications, I certainly think it is worthwhile.

In 1985, Miura claimed another remarkable feat: he had skied the tallest mountains on all 7 continents. To add to his already firmly established legend, Miura summited Everest in 2003 to become the oldest person to accomplish this at 70 years old. That's not all. This year, 2008, Miura set about to reclaim this coveted record which had been surpassed by a 71 year old a couple years back. Although his accomplishment was slightly eclipsed by a 76 year old Nepalese climber who summited 2 days beforehand, Miura did, indeed, summit Everest again last month. He is 75 years old and likely plotting his next challenge.

I've decided upon a little project: watch all the winners of Documentary Film for the Academy Awards.

Chicago, one year in

Now that I’ve called Chicago home for a bit over a year, I feel it’s time to revisit some early ideas I had about the city and see how they match up with my understanding of the city at this point. In an egregiously long post from last April, I supplied (to anyone masochistic enough to read that far) reasons why Chicago outpaced other American cities as my choice to settle for awhile. San Francisco (broadly speaking) still sits atop the heap as my ultimate locale, but for now and the near-future, it wouldn’t be the right choice. Considering I’ve committed myself Chi-town for grad school, it seems the city proved itself pretty admirably.

Last year, I listed the general traits I'd find in my idea city, and I claimed that Chicago would fulfill all but two. Although this is the case, some categories are satisfied to greater and lesser degrees than others. Here's my original criteria with some current comments regarding Chicago [The black type below are the criteria that I desired in a city. Green is my current analysis of Chicago's ability to satisfy each respective category]:

A cosmopolis, first and foremost. Yes, without a doubt, but it’s different than NYC. The downtown area doesn’t have the same energy as New York; it’s much more tame in that regard. However, the ethnic enclaves in Chicago are phenomenal and you can literally meet someone from any nationality here. The city feels connected, hip, and flourishing. This is certainly a winning point for Chicago but I wouldn’t put it at the level of New York.
Four distinct seasons. Holy crap, YES! This year’s winter was brutally long, but I still loved it. I wouldn’t want that excessive gray every year (I do have it from reliable sources that this was the worst year in memory for lingering clouds/cold) but it felt so good to be living in a place that legitimately gets snow again. Also, fall was gorgeous with all the deciduous trees, and summer gets hot hot hot. I should add a footnote here that, although I didn’t mention it last time, I cannot stand humidity. I was somewhat disheartened to find that Chicago does get a bit humid towards the late summer. This, however, is nothing compared to the east coast and it’s something I can live with for that shorter window.
The juxtaposition of quaint neighborhoods and a thriving, vertical downtown. Yep, definitely.
A significantly sized and clean body-of-water/river. The lake is not always clean enough to swim in at points during the summer. Occasionally, public announcements are issued when bacteria levels rise. Last year, this didn’t seem to happen too often.
Relatively-affordable, interesting, clean, safe, decently-sized housing. It still blows my mind how much you can get for your money in Chicago real estate. “Tiny” condos here dwarf most condos in New York and they’re much cheaper than DC too. Without a doubt, you can find expensive places here, but even the spendier parts aren’t bad, comparatively. In truth, many other cities are more expensive than Chicago, including Seattle, SF, LA, Boston, DC NYC, and others.
Few rainy days; give me snow over cold rain. Yep, it’s proven to be just that way. The other thing I really like is that most rain storms in the warmer months arrive in the form of thunder storms. I’d prefer a roaring thunder storm any day to steady (Portland, you’re guilty) rain.
Mind-blowing architecture. Umm, yes. New condominiums are spreading like a virus, and many of these are uninspiring, but that doesn’t overshadow the city as a whole. Regardless of the uproar over the future Chicago Spire, I'm happy to see the city reclaiming its hold on bold, avante garde design.
An encompassing network of public transportation. Pretty damn good, although we need some major work in order to win the Olympic bid for 2016.
Incredible food. More than anything, this is true. The food culture here is unparalleled for the price. I’ll just say that Top Chef was filmed in Chicago last season and the winner is a Chicago resident.
History. Give me a break. Yes.
An eclectic, thriving, worldly, educated, unpretentious populace. Yes, and put emphasis on the last adjective, especially. I cannot express how glad I am to be away from the pompous throngs in my two former east coast cities. These are, of course, generalizations, but compared to DC and NYC the people here are so much more down to earth. You will find more "worldly" people in a couple other US cities, but that doesn't mean these people are living in a cave. It simply means many of them come here to live permanently and comfortably; it's not a stop on the way for the majority.
Great, distinctive, comfortable coffee shops. This is one criterion I have to say has disappointed me. There are some good spots, but they don’t define Chicago. They’re few and far between, much to my dismay.
Great, distinctive, comfortable pubs. Without a doubt, the pub scene here surpasses any other I've seen in the US! Chicago reigns supreme on this front.
World class universities. Sure, sure.
A promising economy. Anyone who makes this claim too loudly would be laying their neck out. The economy here is multi-faceted enough and large enough to weather storms in sections of the economy, but no place can escape unscathed what's going on right now. Gas here is higher than California; ouch. But, yes, it's "promising" for the future.
Bike friendly and pro-physical fitness atmosphere. Having Mayor Daley count himself among the biking enthusiasts has elevated the conversation of biking safety and accessibility to the forefront of Chicago conversations. A number of high-profile biking fatalities have made the front page of the Chicago Tribune since I moved here last April. According to a friend who is an avid biker, however, the number of instances per capita has actually decreased. There's simply more visibility, similar to Portland, OR. Stiff penalties are now enforced for impeding bike lanes and more streets have designated lanes for bikes. Overall, it's a bike friendly city but more work should be done on this front. Regarding pro-physical fitness, that depends heavily on the seasons/weather. Winters hit hard here and few venture outside. Now, however, the warm sun beckons thousands to the shores of Lake Michigan for running, biking, rollerblading, volleyball, swimming, and of course, bags. Overall, Chicago falls in the middle of pro-physical fitness, but for the metropolis category (NYC, LA, Houston, etc.), it's much better than average.
A place where I feel comfortable yet constantly challenges me. Kind of a lame category, although I see where I was going with it. Yes.
Clean, abundant park space. Phenomenal for a metropolis. Very impressed.
Easy access to the outdoors. Yep.
Easy access to mountains. This is one I never deluded myself into believing and it’s most certainly not the case. This, more than anything besides proximity to family and friends, would prove the Achilles heel of Chicago’s hopes to keep me much beyond graduate school.
Easy access to the ocean. Again, I couldn't lie myself into this one. Lake Michigan truly feels like a sea at times, but you don't get the briny aroma and you don't get the (huge) breaking waves.
Athletic teams. Nothing shy of religious devotion in this town.
Affordable, abundant flights to my hometown. So so on this category. For being 2000 miles away, it's about as good as I could hope. The fault doesn't exactly lie with Chicago and it's two airports here...
Affordable, abundant flights to everywhere else on earth. Check. Check.

So in summary, I'm not going to pretend I've stumbled into utopia, but it's the best place I could hope to live right now. That could evolve after 6 years, but in the meantime, I've got plenty of time to enjoy a carefully and happily chosen city. Those are feelings I haven't had since college, which feels pretty amazing.

Fotos tan fantasticos

Check out some pics of our quick sojourn to California last month. A wedding and wine country were the destinations.

I can't believe it's not microwaveable!

I've never been much of a cook (I was spotted with peanut butter and jelly on a tortilla once or twice in college), but lately I've been drawn into the first stages of foodie world by the CEO, CFO, and Chairman of the Board of KHuh Industries. In reality, I mostly dice things then pretend like I played a pivotal role. It works.

Check out this little concoction devised by the head honcho, herself. Amazingly, it's cheaper to make than even a cheap meal out:
1) Fresh ground chicken meatballs, with herbs and veggies of choice. Baked. Grated parmesan, flavored with a barbeque/salsa sauce, and polished off with a delectable cut of provologne on top. All this, of course, is on toasted bread, somewhat gutted so as not to be too filling.
2) Wheat tabouli with diced tomatoes, green onions, cucumbers, and fresh lemons squeezed on top.
3) Baby field greens (from local farmers market, of course...nose here is raised and lips in just the slightest smirk/pout of condescension), warm honey-baked pecans, yellow and red grape tomatoes, onions, goat cheese, balsamic.
4) Depending on the preference, you can spot asparagus, sweet potatoes, and my little addition, some grilled apricot as sides.
5) Polish off with an economical girl's sangria (wine and fresca) or your summer beer of choice with an orange slice.

A better face

As expected, Clinton showed a much different side today with her concession speech. It was the best speech I've ever heard her give, and that has nothing to do with the fact that she endorsed Obama. She was natural, heartfelt, eloquent, and poised. This is the higher ground that Clinton is capable of achieving, but this is not what she exhibited during the majority of her campaign. If she could be so admirable when in the midst of battle, I would have a different perspective on Senator Clinton. Unfortunately, these brilliant moments come too rarely and too late. This is why Senator Clinton ran such a close race, but ultimately finished behind a superior candidate.

She also relinquished any hesitation in declaring her boundary-breaking campaign as historic. Many observers think this realization came late and she could have saved her campaign by trumpeting this earlier. I think it was a cold calculation (and likely the correct calculation) to not do so earlier, because they likely would have alienated many male voters. Now, in defeat, is the only time she could be so forceful on this point. It sets her up perfectly for her next move, whatever that may be.

Anyways, Clinton deserves much lauding and I don't seek to diminish that. But the fact remains that this is one side of a multifaceted politician, and her other faces have not been so honorable. Whatever road she takes in the future, I hope she marches forward in this fashion. She would gain a fan in me.

My Greatest Walk

Our walk started back in Portland, I remember it well. The fragrant air that pervades the city in the warmer months was just dying down. You caught the last wafts before the winter rains. Let me apologize, here and now, for that apartment I walked you into. It's never fun living next to someone who thinks battery acid gushes from shower heads. That's definitely not fragrant. But I have to say you held your own. There was even that snow in early January when we walked all the way down the hill from OHSU, through downtown, then up into NW. What was that, like 6 solid miles?

Snow we could handle. Hot dry sunshine: yes please! But rain didn't agree with us. It was time to flee either north or south. We went north. Way, way north.

Remember stepping out of the airport in Anchorage? You guys crunched right down into that packed snow and laid claim of the place! I still think you fit right in up there. Truth be told, that's where our walk got interesting. You hated me when I decided, of all friggin' jobs in the world, to become a busboy! We walked through that kitchen muck so many times! I spilled beer, ranch sauce, marinara, coke, and I'd venture to guess, some splatters of baby upchuck all over your leather uppers. You always counterpunched with some pretty mean blisters. I'll give you that.

But actually, I countered your counterpunch pretty effectively when we headed home. Eddy was just a puppy black lab at that point and she'd sneak into the entryway where you hung out, snag one of you in her jaws and tear at breakneck speed around the front room. You were understandably terrified because those canine teeth were as sharp as razor blades and she was relentless in warding off my chase. But yes, sooner or later I'd save you from impending doom and Eddy would make my Achilles heels her next targets while you recovered your pride (I'll save myself the bad Achilles heel pun…but just know that I'm thinking it right now).

So we strolled that path for ½ a year, then veered way off course. You rested on the ferry, then had a couple light workouts up and down the west coast. I think you took a full 3 week vacation when we finally drove from Washington west to Washington east. In effect, I gave you a month and a half off from duty. Afterwards, you practically dove onto the DC streets! Man, we covered some serious ground over there. There was that one day we walked all the way from Arlington Cemetery across the Potomac and the entire National Mall, then up through Dupont Circle and Adams Morgan. Plus, all those nights crunching across old brick and cobblestone in Georgetown. Northern VA had some trails you knew well and lets never forget the Metro platforms I put you through.

You grumbled ceaselessly about those Metro platforms until we took our walk northward to Manhattan. I remember you whimpering the first couple weeks down in the underbelly of that city where you took a beating for the ages! You were spared trampling from neither stiletto nor work boot. The flourishing biology experiments on those train platforms made you reminisce so fondly about the sterile DC metro. But even then, a little toughening-up made you almost crave those daily journeys above and below The City. Whether crunching gravel on the Brooklyn waterfront, stepping on sewer grates in the Lower East Side, or side-stepping mustard packets outside the gyro stand up on 168^th, you definitely held your own.

For all those grand steps we took in New York, however, I remember they were tinged with some melancholy. I hopped over a huge puddle outside Stuyvesant Town, landing in the shallow periphery with my right heel. Something didn’t feel right a minute later, and I felt the first pangs of a painful realization. I didn’t want to look, because it’s never easy to see beloved friends withstand such a punishing blow. But I had to look. Sure enough, pierced through the formidable rubber in your right sole was a small hole. At that point it was the tiniest of slits, but I could see the slippery slope had begun. Soon, other bits of rubber would wear away, leaving your hearty inner bones lain bare.

You apologized for a damp sock; I batted your guilt aside and asked whether it was time to retire. You told me that if I was willing to withstand the disapproving looks of folks with shiny new sneakers, you’d march on harder than ever. Just like Barack and Michele, we gave each other ‘the rock’ and resumed the adventure. Admittedly, from that day forward I constantly monitored the pavement for puddles and rocks, but my agility ratings skyrocketed and I enjoyed the new challenge.

So our walk finally led us to Chicago. You were excited about stomping through new territory, but you’d been around that block a few times and decided to sit out a couple strolls. I watched you continue to weaken. That’s not to say your engines weren’t revving, but more days were spent with the maintenance team. The winter months hit you hard, but listen, Chicago’s winter months combined with my commute would hurt the freshest of faces. We stumbled into your last spring and you finally told me it’s time.

You know what? You're battered, bruised, and bloodied, but you're beautiful. You guys are grizzled, noble warriors with many proud stories to tell. Age only solidified your rank among the legends. I want you to know that your model is retired. I loved hanging out so much that I almost hunted down some of your younger brothers for my next walk. That wouldn’t be right. I know, I know, the new guys have a lot of similarities, but trust me, they’ve got their own vibe. We sat down and talked it over; they’re not looking to tread on your tracks, and I wouldn’t let them regardless.

Anways, buddies, this has been the greatest walk of my life. I love you guys and I’ll take the next walk in your honor.

In the end, a real contrast

As even the most absent of bloggers, I’d be remiss to not punch out a couple thoughts today. Firstly and most importantly, given all the daily microscale drama, it’s pretty easy to forget the monumental feat just accomplished by Barack Obama. Imagine the odds of a candidate virtually unknown before 2004…actually let’s not sidestep the obvious…imagine the odds of an African-American candidate virtually unknown before 2004 arising victorious over the Clinton dynasty’s juggernaut of political connections and fundraising dominance. I think many of us are so caught up in the daily news cycle, that it’ll take some time before that reality fully sinks in.

In victory and in defeat, respectively, I thought Obama and Clinton showed their essence.

I found Obama’s speech gracious, humble, focused, and magnanimous towards Clinton’s historic achievements. He didn’t gloat in his speech. As a matter of fact, he spent little to no time in self-congratulatory mode. He barely touched on his own historic accomplishment. He was inspiring and unifying, while expressing that this is only a stepping stone to the real prize.

Now to the other side. Through all of the egregious acts of political ugliness I’ve seen out of Clinton and her camp since late February, I cautioned myself to not become a number. I saw how the polls showed the increasing polarization of Clinton’s supporters against Obama, and vice versa. Somewhere, I found a reserve of restraint to tell myself, “be practical, keep the big picture in mind, don’t get visceral.” I didn’t. Even as of yesterday afternoon, the pragmatist in me thought that a gracious denouement (on both sides) to the primary season, might channel nicely into Obama offering Clinton the VP slot.

Then I watched Hillary’s speech last night.

Clinton barely acknowledged Obama, offering a few curt and cursory words. She MOST CERTAINLY did not acknowledge that he’d obtained the 2118 delegates for the nomination. She then proceeded to do everything within her power to stoke the anger of her coalition and, incredibly, convince them that the race wasn’t over. She said she wanted their input to determine her next step. While mouthing the requisite line that she’ll do whatever’s necessary to seek unity, there was absolutely no substance to the words. Her speech was utterly self-involved, divisive, and defiant. A pan of the audience showed some supporters in a rabid fury, almost militant. Although I imagine the majority of her supporters are actually level-headed people who will vote in their own best interest in November, there's an undeniably large group of Clinton supporters who only cement their largely reactionary anti-Obama stance every time Clinton fans the flames.

I could very well be proven wrong, but if Clinton intended to make a play for the VP with her defiant speech last night, I sense that speech ensured she won’t get the offer. The tone and tenor of Obama’s campaign is unity through harmony, open-mindedness, and hard work. Clinton would be offering unity by withholding war. In other words, “take me on or lose the army of supporters whom I control and meet your demise.” Hillary Clinton had an unparalleled opportunity last night to raise herself to exalted status in the Democratic Party by playing the role of unifier after an epic battle, which she has unequivocally lost. Much of the ugliness of her campaign would have dissipated in a heartbeat and Obama supporters, like myself, would have recognized the brutality of politics and forgiven many of her transgressions in pursuit of the greater good. Instead, she made herself small in defeat and craven for power. Her 18 million votes may or may not go to Obama. But they shouldn’t be obtained by her barely concealed threats.

As someone who tries hard to keep a balanced, objective perspective, I was appalled and sincerely disappointed by Clinton’s performance last night. I wouldn't be surprised to see a more gracious side of Clinton in the near future, but last night she missed a precious chance. Those kinds of opportunities are moments that shouldn't be pilfered away by Obama's VP. Juxtaposed against that tasteless backdrop, one couldn’t help but see Obama as a huge step forward in our nation's journey through history.

80's music fans, reveal thyselves

Try this quiz out. (Many thanks to KW for this.)

Me read stuff

I haven't read that much Dickens. The little I should have covered was assigned in high school., which was during (one of) my illiterate period(s). So I picked up David Copperfield to give Dickens a go. The story traces David's adventures and relationships from birth through his mid twenties. To reveal the tiniest bit of the storyline, David's father dies before his birth, and his mother's demise follows while David is still a child with no siblings. Therefore, the book mostly focuses on David being left alone in the world and seeking love beyond his lost parents. Dickens traces his story through childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, and into his mid-to-late twenties. The epilogue extends the picture much further, but that is obviously a quick sketch. It amounts to a large-scale coming-of-age story.

The remarkable thing about the book is that the stories are basically human scale. What I mean by that is that Dickens doesn't use many overtly outlandish plot lines, with some notable exceptions mostly involving disparate characters intertwining their stories along the road. What he does use--maybe more effectively than any author i've ever read--is colorful characters. The characters are vivid and mostly believable, but the believable traits are slightly exaggerated to drill home points. Plus, the various places in England that he talks about (Dover, London, Canterbury, Yarmouth) aren't more than 100 miles from each other (which I understand isn't negligible when you're using horses for transportation), yet the worlds he describes are so distinct. I think that's a difficult thing for an author to capture; it's much easier to contrast Jerusalem with London.

It's kinda cheesy, but I admit that I really fell for David's character. I think I neglect my childhood days too often, but the young David's fears and innocence made me remember things I hadn't thought of in over a decade. There's something pretty moving about reviving instances from childhood that seemed forever gone. As he matures, I admired his loving, level-headed, measured perspective on all the crazy characters he interacts with, but also his passionate sense of justice. David Copperfield rarely becomes combative, but he will battle perceived evils when necessary. His greatest strength, in my opinion, was his ability to strip away BS and see humans at their core levels. He also makes dumb mistakes along the way, but there's always wisdom gleaned from the failings. Another draw was how Dickens carefully described Copperfield's development up to his mid-to-late twenties. Since I fit snuggly in that demographic, I could closely relate to his earlier struggles and the sense of finally getting things (somewhat) figured out by that age.

One sidenote that the book made me consider: when English people moved from the motherland to one of their colonies far overseas (and this could apply to so many people, in so many locations and points in history), especially Australia in the mid 1800's, that often meant they'd never step foot on England's soil again. When you said goodbye to friends and sailed away, it could mean that was the last time you'd ever see their faces again. Letters could be exchanged, but that's no replacement for seeing somebody in the flesh. It's hard for me to grasp that sort of finality. The modest adventures I've had in the American north, east, and midwest since college have taught me that I rely heavily on knowing I'll see my friends and family in the near future. I can be away, but only for so long before the feeling of disconnection trumps the jewels of discovery.

Another conversation

BLOG: Dude, you can't just disappear like that. That's not how this thing works.
PHIL: Oh, man, you know...work, family, all that stuff.
BLOG: You have no family. It's debatable whether you have a job.
PHIL: You have no manners.
BLOG: You have no reason to keep talking, so shut it. Listen, we used to be tight, man. We used hang out like every day.
PHIL: I'm right here, aren't I?
BLOG: Right here?! You've visited maybe twice in the last 11 months. And those were for ridiculous, self-involved political peptalks that don't have any right on these pages. Keep your panaceas to your delusional self, buddy!
PHIL: Whoa, now that's pushing it, pal!
BLOG: [grunt] Alright, alright. Look, I've got some pent up frustration and it comes out ugly sometimes. But you don't have to face the disappointed friends and family that visit, hoping for something interesting, only to find a mildewed entry from last June. You don't have to watch as they visit, once, twice, maybe three times then throw in the towel. Do you have any idea what that kind of rejection is like?
PHIL: Girls didn't like me in high school.
BLOG: They still don't. Look, don't try to get funny on me. We used to BE something, man. We used to have [swallow]...readers....
PHIL: Yeah...
BLOG: READERS MAN!!! Don't you see!
PHIL: I'm telling you, I'm rolling with the overarching plan. Big things in the works, you know, but they take time. Sometimes it's a period for public expression, sometimes not.
BLOG: Alright wise guy, enough of the lines. Tell your personal journal it's gonna take some hits for awhile and let's get this thing going again. I'm not asking for every day. Just give a little love once in awhile.
PHIL: I don't see any readers stopping by, to be honest. We've been dropped from every blogroll that ever paid any attention.
BLOG: I don't give a damn about blogrolls! You just worry about punching some keys before you're swollen with arthritis, alright?! Listen, it's for your own good.
PHIL: I know.
BLOG: Okay. Get outta here. SCRAM!!

Rejoining

I had written something lengthy, but it didn’t feel right. It dwelt too much on expressing anger and frustration on the effect Clinton’s negativity has had on the storyline and, indeed, polls over the last two months.

But it strayed from my real intention:

I simply, and shortly, want to say that my support for Obama’s campaign remains stronger than ever. Through all the smears and daggers, he has shown himself to be a person of integrity, level-headedness, open-mindedness, and carefully reasoned intellect. Even through his self inflicted gaffe, he embraced the notion of being human and having faults. The fault was never an underlying elitism, as anyone who perceives human beings for what they are can attest to. The fault was a mish-mashed phrase erroneously tooled to one audience that brutally shielded good intentions. So this, combined with an all-out Clinton/McCain assault, brought to an end the messiah-era that really needed to go. No human should be glorified in superhuman terms as Obama was briefly during February. This eventually does harm to everyone involved because it’s unsustainable.

What has only crystallized my support is how he handled the injection of racism, elitism, classism, patriotism and any other division-sowing ‘ism’ imaginable. In each circumstance, he as lain down the foundation for long-term healing. He has addressed nuance, complication, and humanity. It has cost him short-term in polling, but the long-term wins will be enormous.

Obama isn’t a messiah, but he is a real person with uncanny capabilities and passion for progress. I’m not interested in the former, but I want the latter worse than anything.

The movement that I wholeheartedly support was always driven by individuals at the grassroots. In the intervening months, I think many of us have remained too passive about our support and we need to rejoin the fray. In whatever way you deem fit, I encourage you to actively get involved in this campaign again. I also encourage you to focus less on exchanging punches and more on promoting the optimism that will actually accomplish policy shifts and cultural shifts that will propel us forward.

Why not? A personal plug: Barack Obama

Family, friends, foes, funkadelic-fiends,

At the risk of conveying unearned (and unwanted) self-importance, I think this presidential election is too important to remain close-lipped. My influence is scarce, if existent, but I figure it's worth doing anything in my power to get out a couple votes.

If you favor a rigidly conservative agenda, you needn't read on. Our differences are likely unbridgeable right now, and we can chat later (plus, you can't vote in the primaries of interest, anyways...Correction, you CAN vote in a few states' democratic primaries if you forgo your vote in their respective Republican primary). On the other hand, if you're anywhere from moderate to liberal, Independent to Democrat, I urge you in the strongest words to vote for Barack Obama in your respective state's Democratic caucus/primary.

I don't consider myself a political expert, by any means. Some of you far outpace me in your obsession with these things. I have, however, followed the campaigns closer-than-most in the last 3 months. Before that, I read what the newspapers told me. We could argue about the almost imperceptible policy differences that separate Obama and Clinton (such as Health Care approaches, if illegal immigrants should get drivers licenses with their citizenship, what world leaders they'll converse with in the first 12 months of their administrations, etc.), but those aren't the distinguishing items between the two candidates.

I'll even spare you my heartfelt stump-speech that does explore the differences between the two: that sound judgement (ie. Clinton voted to authorize Iraq; Obama made an historical speech against doing so) and character (Obama's ability to galvanize the electorate is uncanny) eclipse #years of Washington/political involvement…that no (wo)man is an island, and any president will have legions of policy aides and advisers helping them make decisions, not to mention the legislative apparatuses that temper any executive's ruling fist.

I'll just say this:

IF IT'S CLINTON VS. MCCAIN, MCCAIN IS VIRTUALLY GUARANTEED TO WIN IN NOVEMBER. On a personal level, I can't even claim this would be Armageddon. I like McCain's candor and perseverance compared to Clinton's disingenuous political-persona-of-the

-moment. His policies, however, have gravitated dangerously to the conservative end of the spectrum that's devastated our country over the last 8 years. Although the Republican base has been hesitant to jump behind McCain, they're increasingly willing to do so. Unless Mitt Romney pulls some miracle out of his deep pockets on Tuesday, McCain will essentially secure himself the Republican nomination.

The crucial point is this: even with McCain's gravitation rightward, he maintains his maverick credentials and will likely sweep moderates and independents his way in a general election. Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton, and the unavoidable baggage that comes from her husband's administration, so inspires the ire of significant decisive voting blocs, that her polarizing effect will only catalyze the flood of votes going McCain's way.

On the other hand, Barack Obama has the personal appeal, demonstrated ability to sponsor legislation that bridges the left/right divide and, most importantly, a clear stance against the Iraq war, which will likely once again vie with the economy as the defining issue in the general election. IN EFFECT, OBAMA VS. MCCAIN ALMOST CERTAINLY GOES TO OBAMA. As a matter of fact, adding to the tally of high-profile endorsement for Obama is President Eisenhower's granddaughter (recall, he was a Republican president) in an op-ed piece published in today's Washington Post. And I quote: "If the Democratic Party chooses Obama as its candidate, this lifelong Republican will work to get him elected and encourage him to seek strategic solutions to meet America's greatest challenges. To be successful, our president will need bipartisan help." That's indicative of the kind of moderate support Obama is gathering.

I'm voting for Obama on his own merits. That decision was made before this race became so incredibly close and fluid. Never has a politician inspired me with such a potent combination of intellect, candor, and charisma as has Obama. But if that's not enough, or if you disagree, please atleast think strategically about your vote. Your vote for Clinton could ring the death knell for Democrats' chances in November. With every passing day, Obama closes the slight lead Clinton maintains in the polls, but Super Tuesday, and the subsequent round of states in early February, is closing in fast.

If you agree with this, GET OUT AND VOTE IN YOUR STATE'S DEMOCRATIC PRIMARY/CAUCUS! Talk to your friends and family too. I'm not personally spearheading any of this, I'm just playing my small part. I've been inspired by other people who've already played their small part and I want to keep this movement going.