Free To Be Nowhere

Let’s – grrrrrr! – talk.

Forgive me now and beat the Yom Kippur rush: I’m in a mood even a fresh coif and a new pair of biodegradable Vera Wang platform flip flops wouldn’t fix. Not to worry, Poor Impulsives, we can blame this on a low pressure system rushing in from out west, where the deer and the antelope play canasta. As you know, I’m not much of a joiner where no solder is to be found, so you’ll be as shocked as I was to learn that the local committee ladies who are fully committed to having committees and have never met me have asked me to join them in their eco-friendly bloodless conquest of the tiny town’s miserably stocked ExtortionMart, by which I mean a meeting on Monday with the store’s new manager. Apparently, I drove away the last manager with my insistence that recycled paper products were a perfectly rational idea. Anyway, my sister Anya, who shall hereafter be refered to as “Co-defendant,” will arm me with sock puppets and a can of Spam, which in vegetarian means: “Them’s fightin’ words.”

While I ponder this turn of events and that twist of sinus medication, feel free to ponder a lovely, wonderful song by Khadja Nin called Sina Mali, Sina Deni, a translated cover of a Stevie Wonder song in a language you don’t speak, and none of that should put you off. Please press play.

I Could Get So Serious

A watchful Topaz

The weekend wore me out, I admit. This morning, I dreamed of my grandmother’s apartment. In it, I found people I knew setting up a promising business. One of them was Morgan. Another was a friend who is now in the diplomatic service. Two women were friends of a friend. The decor my grandmother painstakingly put into place more than twenty years ago was starting to fall apart. In the dream, I knew this was not possible. I sat on the floor with them and made pointed remarks. When I woke up, I was sure I’d written something on the blog I had to correct, but it wasn’t true.

Defenseless toy.

Over the weekend, we stopped at a pet store and bought new cat toys. The living room floor is littered with sticks inexplicably glued to feathers, which contraptions are irresistible to our cat friends. A week ago, the cats, Pete and I made a traumatic trip to the veterinarian. Topaz got antibiotics, Drusy got an anti-emetic shot to stop her from yakking. Pete got an eye-opening education about stuffing cats into boxes. I came away with scratches up and down both arms. a split lip and my confidence shaken.

Drusy, demanding I quit loafing and play with her.

So we were mostly okay until yesterday, when Drusy once again tossed her waffles twice. This morning, when I called the vet I expected bad news. I was prepared for bad news. The thing is: Drusy and Topaz were chasing each other from one end of the apartment to the other, back and forth, at top speed. While it was a little annoying to wake up to, it was an utter revelation. I mentioned this to the vet. “She’s playing and tumbling and her eyes are bright.” He seemed startled. He said I should keep track of when she throws up again, but unless it’s more than a few times a week, I shouldn’t worry. She might still be sick, but we can’t know. I am still trying to calm down. My job here is scribe, not prognosticator.

You’d think I’d know that by now.

See How the Glass Is Raised

This weekend, Pete and I pushed really hard to get the kitchen painted. This morning, Pete hung the black grids I had leftover from a play I did in 1996 and he took some pictures. The green is an intense color that matches a bottle he brought back from the Virgin Islands years ago. The silver radiator is a visually exciting retro touch, and the black shelves and grids provide a lot of storage. The ultra white trim reminds us of sun-drenched beaches. I have pictures from South Beach where the water was this green and the sand this white. The rest of the kitchen is lined with neutral pine cabinets, most of which I can’t reach, so the hooks for pots and pans are a big help.

For the past week, Drusy has been throwing up, so I’m back in the position of chasing a sick pussycat with a bowl of food, asking the pussycat to take a bite. The vet thinks our beautiful, long-legged debutante has a heart condition. I don’t even know what to say. I’m giving myself until tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. to develop a plan we can all live with.

Pain And Truth Were Things That Really Mattered

Via Raw Story:

TALLAHASSEE – A black Republican group has put up billboards in Florida and South Carolina saying the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was a Republican, a claim that black leaders say is ridiculous.

The National Black Republican Association has paid for billboards showing an image of the civil rights leader and the words “Martin Luther King Jr. was REPUBLICAN.” Told about the billboards, the Rev. Joseph Lowery let out a soft chuckle that grew stronger as he began to think more about the idea.

“These guys never give up, do they?” said Lowery, who co-founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference with King. “Lord have mercy.”

Seven billboards have gone up in six Florida counties, and another in Orangeburg, S.C., said Frances Rice, the Republican group’s chairwoman. Part of its mission is to highlight what she said is the Democratic Party’s racist past.

“I knew the King family well. We were all Republicans,” said Rice, 64.

Oh, the hilarity of our racist present! Perhaps Ms. Rice was talking about this King Family. I bet they voted Republican.

Melanin challenged Mormon entertainment juggernaut.

Perhaps with mention of those bland holiday specials my age is showing. In other news: Jesse Helms no longer shows his. Good riddance to bad trash:

[T]he man ABC News now describes as a “conservative icon” (8/22/01) in 1993 sang “Dixie” in an elevator to Carol Moseley-Braun, the first African-American woman elected to the Senate, bragging, “I’m going to make her cry. I’m going to sing Dixie until she cries.” (Chicago Sun-Times, 8/5/93)

It’s a telling incident in the life of a vicious bigot whose lengthy political career harmed millions of people. There’s no excusing or mitigating a moment of it. If there’s any justice in the universe, that God Helms goes to meet is black, gay, female and cracking her knuckles. Black Republicans should observe: anyone stupid enough to believe that astonishing sign is probably too stupid to register and vote.

Friday Cat Blogging: Another Life Now Edition

Monday, Darla emailed that Edgar had been killed by a fox or an owl.









These pictures were once in chronological order, but even that didn’t tell the story of a sweet, sweet cat friend who would have been eleven years old next month.

Edgar loved to drink Darla’s tea, sit cozily in boxes and cuddle up to Darla.

Edgar was very vocal.

If he was outside, he’d tell you he wanted in, and if in, he wanted out.

When Dad was sick, Edgar’s mild complaints irritated Dad, which meant I ran around after Edgar for weeks on end.

Even so, it would have been very difficult to hold a grudge against the giant orange pussycat who wanted nothing more than to be near his persons, though mostly near Darla.

This spring, Edgar often climbed trees, then found himself in the very uncatlike position of being unable to get back down.

Darla said the first thing every morning, Edgar put his head under her hand for scritches.

It comforts her now that the other cats curl up to her morning and night.

We say goodbye now to this little one. He was a lovely companion and a charming catfriend.

And Dream Of Sheep

If this is the best our government and the airline business can do to simply function in their jobs, perhaps both deserve to fail.

It was at this precise moment I lost sympathy for the struggling airline industry.

I don’t mean workers like flight attendants, mechanics and pilots, for whom I have the utmost respect. No, I mean the policymakers who are so goddamn stupid they won’t back down from red alert over baby bottles and shampoo, which could never have exploded in the first place. As a method of detonation it cannot work. And yet, in February, I was hassled about a cup of coffee. It’s nostalgic to say this in 2008, but does anyone remember probable cause and the presumption of innocence?

There’s so much wrong with this breathlessly stupid, alarmist, invasive scenario I can’t begin to speak rationally about it. I leave the nouns and verbs to others using them far better, but I can say this: a big fucking flashing neon sign of precisely how completely and totally wrong this procedure is is that it’s (more or less) introduced to the American public by everyone’s pal Matt Lauer. Matt wouldn’t steer us wrong, would he? And he sounds so reassuring, we won’t even miss our rights protecting us against unreasonable search and seizure! Or will we? Via Jill:

The Justice Department is considering letting the FBI investigate Americans without any evidence of wrongdoing, relying instead on a terrorist profile that could single out Muslims, Arabs or other racial and ethnic groups.

Law enforcement officials say the proposed policy would help them do exactly what Congress demanded after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks: root out terrorists before they strike.

Although President Bush has disavowed targeting suspects based on their race or ethnicity, the new rules would allow the FBI to consider those factors among a number of traits that could trigger a national security investigation.

Currently, FBI agents need specific reasons — like evidence or allegations that a law probably has been violated — to investigate U.S. citizens and legal residents. The new policy, law enforcement officials told The Associated Press, would let agents open preliminary terrorism investigations after mining public records and intelligence to build a profile of traits that, taken together, were deemed suspicious.

Among the factors that could make someone subject of an investigation is travel to regions of the world known for terrorist activity, access to weapons or military training, along with the person’s race or ethnicity.

Got that? Your RACE makes you suspicious. Your ETHNICITY makes you a suspect. Whatever you do, don’t stand in line at the airport being brown and eating baba ghanoush!

If you read that article carefully, the verbs change. Justice isn’t considering turning the FBI loose on innocent Americans. Justice will turn the FBI loose on innocent Americans in September, and it’s just too bad Matt Lauer didn’t introduce the press conference. He’s so reassuring, you know.

Johnny, our Southwest Bureau Chief, reports:

I’m reading about cognitive psychology and gestalt and heuristics and behaviorism and I came across the idea of causation, which posits a necessary relationship between an event and its causative agent. I don’t know what any of that means, but causation seems to be the folk wisdom that everything happens for a reason. People only invoke that myth when something bad happens, to talk themselves out of the obvious truth that bad things happen to good people for no reason at all. When I was a younger man, I wanted to talk people out of their religious beliefs. I was young. What do I care what gods people worship? Still, for some reason, this really galls me. According to this dipshit philosophy, I got rear ended all those times and have tortured vertebrae in my neck for a reason. I have epilepsy for a reason. Every misfortune that’s ever befallen my family and all my friends was, what, dictated by some cosmic intelligence? For what? To teach us a lesson? To make us appreciate the good times more? I swear to Christ, the next person who tries to comfort me with that foul stinking old chestnut gets a punch in the fucking head.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. That misguided, compassionate person is probably being x-rayed into a stupor by Justice as we speak. Just offer him or her some baba ghanoush!

Disco Hotspots Hold No Charm For You

Sunday, Pete was in the kitchen, spraypainting the radiator silver, while I re-tied the beans. Beans grow like you wouldn’t believe unless you’ve grown beans and even then they can surprise you. So there I was: folded in half and playing with string.

I straightened my back for a stretch and noticed a neighbor launching himself down his back steps with a box containing a brand new push mower and headphones. The lawns on Pete’s block could be trimmed with an erratic weed whacker so I was excited to see this display of common sense. Then I went back to tying up the beans. A short while later, a song echoed through the breezy backyards.

IT WAS THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT –

It does one’s sinuses no good whatsoever to stifle a guffaw while upside down.

TELLING ME WHAT YOUR HEART MEANT –

Pete stepped out onto his porch, where he could see the neighbor warbling unsteadily at the tops of his lungs. Pete stared, obviously very happy.

THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT SHOWED IN YOUR EYES!

After a few minutes, Pete decided to go caulk Rhode Island or something. I was weeding and tying up more beans. Fortunately, we have a lot of beans because I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

YOU’RE LEAVING NOW THERE’S NO DISGUISING IT –

Okay, so maybe I could have worked a little faster.

IT REALLY COMES AS NO SURPRISE TO FIND THAT YOU PLANNED IT ALL ALONG!

Every so often, the neighbor’s young, pregnant wife steps out onto her porch, rolls her eyes and goes back inside. I am positively trembling with joy. Finally, she shouts over the locally unheard The Very Best of Asia, “IT SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING’S DYING OUT HERE.”

In my own defense, I stood up to keep from falling down, but in doing so, made myself visible from the other side of the garden. Then I howled. She said, “THEY’RE LAUGHING AT YOU,” and went back inside in a huff. After a minute, I went back to what I was doing, but I wasn’t the only one.

SOLE SURVIVOR! SOLE SURVIVOR! SOLITARY FIGHTER!

I love that guy.

Nothing To Say I Ain’t Said Before

I stand with you, General.

In other news: stop talking about “electing a commander-in-chief.” We don’t elect a commander-in-chief. We elect a president, and when diplomacy fails, the president assumes these powers. This title, as it is now tossed about, should be a badge of shame and failure. Don’t use these words, and don’t participate in the fetishistic rightwing framing.

Radio Silence Observe Radio Silence

I avoid using phones if at all possible. It’s not that I have some tinfoil hat theory or think they’re giving me cancer. Nope: on the phone, I might be just plain stupid. Pete, who spends more time with me than anyone I didn’t gestate myself has, calls me every day at my desk.

Pete: I just called to hear the sound of your voice!
Tata: [Insert sound of post-pre-verbal stage person trying to remember what words are.]

I’m pretty useless on the phone; so much so that when the internet phone service message center became suddenly and explosively incompatible with my laptop, I didn’t even miss much. I can see who called but can’t hear the messages, which is fine by me because I don’t check them for many, many weeks and can’t muster the strength to hold grudges.

You’d think then a person who returns calls on a more or less monthly basis wouldn’t have a fishnetted leg to stand on where return phone calls were at issue but no. Everyone knows I’m either sitting at my desk or sitting on my couch or haunting a grocery store or weeding my garden or gift-wrapping for the populace. My whereabouts are seldom mysterious, and when I want to talk I want to talk RIGHT NOW. I’m waiting for a woman to email me back. She checks her email every two or three days. What’s the matter with her? Doesn’t she know I’m waiting?

The Sun Shine In

Via Firedoglake, we see the New York Times couldn’t be more ambivalent about the Bureau of Land Management’s two-year freeze and study of – get this – the environmental impact of large-scale solar power projects on public land. Look at the distancing language not at all in action here:

DENVER — Faced with a surge in the number of proposed solar power plants, the federal government has placed a moratorium on new solar projects on public land until it studies their environmental impact, which is expected to take about two years.

The Bureau of Land Management says an extensive environmental study is needed to determine how large solar plants might affect millions of acres it oversees in six Western states — Arizona, California, Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico and Utah.

But the decision to freeze new solar proposals temporarily, reached late last month, has caused widespread concern in the alternative-energy industry, as fledgling solar companies must wait to see if they can realize their hopes of harnessing power from swaths of sun-baked public land, just as the demand for viable alternative energy is accelerating.

Flying Spaghetti Monster, does this make sense?

“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Holly Gordon, vice president for legislative and regulatory affairs for Ausra, a solar thermal energy company in Palo Alto, Calif. “The Bureau of Land Management land has some of the best solar resources in the world. This could completely stunt the growth of the industry.”

Hey, did you know our executive branch is full of oil men? You do now!

Much of the 119 million surface acres of federally administered land in the West is ideal for solar energy, particularly in Arizona, Nevada and Southern California, where sunlight drenches vast, flat desert tracts.

The Bureau owns vast swaths of sun-drenched desert it could lease to fledgling solar power companies, which would make money for the taxpayers, but it would prefer to wait. And study. And wait. Study what? you ask. Good question.

The manager of the Bureau of Land Management’s environmental impact study, Linda Resseguie, said that many factors must be considered when deciding whether to allow solar projects on the scale being proposed, among them the impact of construction and transmission lines on native vegetation and wildlife. In California, for example, solar developers often hire environmental experts to assess the effects of construction on the desert tortoise and Mojave ground squirrel.

Water use can be a factor as well, especially in the parched areas where virtually all of the proposed plants would be built. Concentrating solar plants may require water to condense the steam used to power the turbine.

“Reclamation is another big issue,” Ms. Resseguie said. “These plants potentially have a 20- to 30-year life span. How to restore that land is a big question for us.”

Because after the sun burns out, we’ll have to go back to coal.

Another benefit of the study will be a single set of environmental criteria to weigh future solar proposals, which will ultimately speed the application process, said the assistant Interior Department secretary for land and minerals management, C. Stephen Allred. The land agency’s manager of energy policy, Ray Brady, said the moratorium on new applications was necessary to “ensure that we are doing an adequate level of analysis of the impacts.”

Studying water in the desert, and studying their ability to study! Studying after those studious do-gooder capitalists pay professional studiers. That, friends, is truly the doublespeak of a public relations master. My gardening hat is off to Misters Allred and Brady. Nothing abashed about those uses of language! FDL:

Cameron Scott, a blogger for the San Francisco Chronicle, writes that he appreciates the government’s caution, noting that such ecological prudence would have been useful before the country jumped into the ethanol business, but that he sees something of a double standard:

[T]he government rarely proceeds with caution when it comes to public lands. In the last couple years, the Bush administration has proposed allowing commerce, roads, off-road vehicles, and concealed weapons on public lands, and has eagerly embraced drilling for oil and natural gas. If fossil fuels warrant endangering these lands, then surely solar power does, too.

Is the Bush administration really so set against decreasing our dependence on fossil fuels that it would fabricate concern for the environment in order to block alternative energy projects? It would appear so.

The Economist notes that the solar industry is now facing a double-whammy, thanks to Congress’s failure to renew a solar tax-credit:

Congress has been dithering over extending a valuable investment tax credit for solar-energy projects, which solar advocates say is critical to the future of their industry but which is due to expire at the end of the year. The latest attempt failed in the Senate earlier this month: prospects for a deal before November’s presidential and congressional elections now look dim. Uncertainty has led some investors to delay or abandon projects in the past few months. Rhone Resch, the president of the Solar Energy Industries Association, said if the tax credits are allowed to expire at the end of the year, “it will result in the loss of billions of dollars in new investments in solar.”

At this rate, I’m SO going to be on a “Morning, Sam” “Morning, Ralph”-basis with my Congresspersons. Feel free to contact yours.

Broken link correction courtesy of Politics.Answers.com Thanks for contacting me, Stuart Hultgren. I have no connection to this service.