I can't get Tom Jones's dulcet tones out of my head. I'm always so pscyhed to be at my little polling station in bucolic Belle Meade TN because the turnout has been so good so far. I was there yesterday from 4 - 6pm (closing) and saw babies and 20-something's and even a Down Syndrome voter - yes! I will be there everyday now until it ends on Oct 31. That will give Davidson County Election Officials 5 days to get their shit together for The Big One. I've attached a link above for all of you to find out if you have early voting. If you do PLEASE do it - they can't steal a landslide and early votes have a greater liklihood of being counted accurately (I kid you not).
Early Voting Stats for for Monday, 10/20/08:
1303 total votes cast @ BMCH
65699 total votes* cast in Davidson County (* probably low by 100 or so votes because one polling station was still voting at 6pm due to lines)
There was pretty much a steady line all day of 30 or so except for the first hour and the last.
Issues: I met Marian Ott, my League of Women Voters Organizer, and I also met Lynn Greer, an Election Commission official. I know Marian spoke to Hal, Poll station officer, about better securing the PEBs. I'll be checking on that today.
Colin Powell tries to mitigate his Faustian bargain by endorsing Obama with some of the most thoughtful and intelligent rhetoric so far. And he points to the elephant in the room - racism - and sez: So what if Obama was a Muslim? Check it out at http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/27265490#27265746
20 October 2008
19 October 2008
Days 3 & 4 of Early Voting
On Friday 10/17 I arrived at 10am and stayed until 12:30pm. It was another big day with 1,357 total votes for the day. The day before had clocked 1,306 but I didn't go that day (went to the Jack Daniel's Distillery instead - yee ha!). Despite the line the average waits in line were 12 – 15 minutes and then once they got to the counter it took on average 2 minutes for the clerks to look them up, validate them and print their voter “application”. Hal Sauer, the poll station officer, told me there were about 20 people in line at opening.
A very distressing incident did happen while I was there. A chic African American woman was delayed substantially at the registration check in (at least 15 – 20 minutes) because her signature on her Driver’s License didn’t match how she had signed her voter "application". I heard the poll worker say at one point “I just don’t want your vote to be disqualified.” Hal was called over and the woman did finally get to vote and I spoke to her outside. She said that a) she’s voted here before with no problem and b) she thought the poll worker was “too elderly for the job.A little soft in the head.” Now WTF was that all about? Who is going to be checking signatures once this woman votes. And she's got a valid driver's license with her - with a photo. I mean is it her or isn't it? Signatures change and graphology is a mixed bag at best from a positive ID standpoint. I can't stop fuming over this - it really seems like that insidious, embedded racism that, in my opinion, all whites in authority have to guard against. I didn't see anyone hassling any white people about their signatures matching. I am going to pursue this iwth the Election Commission - just to get it on record.
On Saturday 10/18 I was there for opening. There were 41 people in line and by 8:45 112 votes had been cast. But by 8:23 the rush was over and it was just two’s and three’s coming in with long periods of no one coming to vote. However at 8:43am a 30 - 40 yr old man came in demanding a provisional ballot so that there would be a paper record of his vote. Denied that, he voted on a machine and then made a loud scene about how the second vote request in the program was a possibility for fraud because that confirmation did not show how your votes were being cast. Frankly I agree with him – it is a sloppy system and with no paper record it does seem open to fraud. That said the guy made an unnecessary racket there – it’s the Election Commission not the individual polls that are to blame here.
Also I met Carol Little the Republican poll watcher for this station and she is a genuine pest.Gives anyone that will stand still long enough an earful about whatever is crossing her mind at the moment. In response to my somewhat laissez faire statement that I didn't have a fixed schedule to be at the polls she found it necessary to say "well I guess the Republicans are just more organized than the Democrats" - clearly evidenced by how well the McCain campaign has been going. And I had just met the woman! Her personal raison d’être as a poll watcher is to look for anyone wearing campaign paraphernalia and to try to get them disqualified from voting (especially if it’s an Obama button). She’s there everyday from noon – 2 or from 2 – 4 when the polls are open ‘til 8pm.I'm sure I'll have conference calls during those times.
The down time on Saturday gave me a chance to quiz Hal and some of the other poll workers more carefully. Here’s how they’re running the operation there: the signs outside were put up the first day and will stay up throughout the election season. At the end of the day they close the lids on the voting machines (but do not turn them off) and place the PEBs on the little card table they have set up in the room. On Saturdays they will power down the machines. A note on ADA accessiblity – there have been 3 or 4 wheelchair bound voters that I’ve seen. They are assisted by Hal usually at registration and are then seated at the card table and a poll worker takes one of the voting machines (its just a tablet computer) out of its booth and sets it up on the card table and it seems to work fine.
I'll post results for Saturday on Monday. Y'all get out and VOTE!
A very distressing incident did happen while I was there. A chic African American woman was delayed substantially at the registration check in (at least 15 – 20 minutes) because her signature on her Driver’s License didn’t match how she had signed her voter "application". I heard the poll worker say at one point “I just don’t want your vote to be disqualified.” Hal was called over and the woman did finally get to vote and I spoke to her outside. She said that a) she’s voted here before with no problem and b) she thought the poll worker was “too elderly for the job.A little soft in the head.” Now WTF was that all about? Who is going to be checking signatures once this woman votes. And she's got a valid driver's license with her - with a photo. I mean is it her or isn't it? Signatures change and graphology is a mixed bag at best from a positive ID standpoint. I can't stop fuming over this - it really seems like that insidious, embedded racism that, in my opinion, all whites in authority have to guard against. I didn't see anyone hassling any white people about their signatures matching. I am going to pursue this iwth the Election Commission - just to get it on record.
On Saturday 10/18 I was there for opening. There were 41 people in line and by 8:45 112 votes had been cast. But by 8:23 the rush was over and it was just two’s and three’s coming in with long periods of no one coming to vote. However at 8:43am a 30 - 40 yr old man came in demanding a provisional ballot so that there would be a paper record of his vote. Denied that, he voted on a machine and then made a loud scene about how the second vote request in the program was a possibility for fraud because that confirmation did not show how your votes were being cast. Frankly I agree with him – it is a sloppy system and with no paper record it does seem open to fraud. That said the guy made an unnecessary racket there – it’s the Election Commission not the individual polls that are to blame here.
Also I met Carol Little the Republican poll watcher for this station and she is a genuine pest.Gives anyone that will stand still long enough an earful about whatever is crossing her mind at the moment. In response to my somewhat laissez faire statement that I didn't have a fixed schedule to be at the polls she found it necessary to say "well I guess the Republicans are just more organized than the Democrats" - clearly evidenced by how well the McCain campaign has been going. And I had just met the woman! Her personal raison d’être as a poll watcher is to look for anyone wearing campaign paraphernalia and to try to get them disqualified from voting (especially if it’s an Obama button). She’s there everyday from noon – 2 or from 2 – 4 when the polls are open ‘til 8pm.I'm sure I'll have conference calls during those times.
The down time on Saturday gave me a chance to quiz Hal and some of the other poll workers more carefully. Here’s how they’re running the operation there: the signs outside were put up the first day and will stay up throughout the election season. At the end of the day they close the lids on the voting machines (but do not turn them off) and place the PEBs on the little card table they have set up in the room. On Saturdays they will power down the machines. A note on ADA accessiblity – there have been 3 or 4 wheelchair bound voters that I’ve seen. They are assisted by Hal usually at registration and are then seated at the card table and a poll worker takes one of the voting machines (its just a tablet computer) out of its booth and sets it up on the card table and it seems to work fine.
I'll post results for Saturday on Monday. Y'all get out and VOTE!
18 October 2008
Early Voting - If you have it, Just Do It!
So I've decided to change the name of the blog (but not the address yet) from Val in the 'ville to The Yammering Yank. Nobody but outsiders actually call it the 'ville. In fact natives pronounce it Nashvull. And I find that I talk much faster than most people here and without their overall gentility (though I am by no means a boor, but possibly a bore at times). So Yank fits, I think.
On to today's post - there will be several of these up through election day because I volunteered as a poll-watcher for the League of Women Voters! I guess they're pretty desperate for warm bodies.
In Tennessee I guess they have Early Voting - this is very cool. Any registered voter can go to any Early Voting Poll station (In Davidson County there are 162 regular polling stations but only 12 are early voting locations). Early voting runs for 14 days starting Wednesday October 15th and through Thursday October 30th (but of course not Sundays).
So here's my diary for the first 4 days of early voting for 2008!
Even though Nashville and Davidson County governments have been incorporated together as a single entity since 1964, Belle Meade (which is all that it sounds and very, very red) retains it's own local government for a few services. Hence they have their own city hall. Here are some interesting stats about opening day: There are 13 poll workers there plus the officer. There are six women operating the computers where they look up the voter, check their ID and registration status and, if all good, they print out an "application" which is really an affidavit that you've voted but not a record of how you voted. Then you take that paper to a voting booth worker (there are 10 voting booths at BMCH). They have an electronic key (PEB) that they stick into a voting machine (these flat electronic tables with big LED screens). They activate a ballot for you and then you touch the screen and vote. They had about 5 people waiting at 7am and approximately 30 – 35 when the polls opened at 8am. At 4:58pm there was a lull so I voted and was the 17,699th vote cast in Davidson county.(The total for the day was approximately 18,000. In 2004 on the first day of early elections it was 8,000).
At 5:30 pm 1,215 people had voted atBMCH
IF YOU CAN VOTE EARLY DO SO! VOTE INVALIDATION - PURPOSEFUL OR ACCIDENTAL - IS HARDER TO ACCOMPLISH WITH EARLY VOTING. CHECK OUT THIS 80 MINUTE MOVIE: "UNCOUNTED: THE NEW MATH OF AMERICAN ELECTIONS". IT'S AMAZING! www.uncountedthemovie.com - this sober and well made film shows actual fraud, incompetence and everything in between. Learn how to protect your vote!
Also check out the results of this international poll - note the #'s voting in Australia, Canada, and elsewhere. http://www.iftheworldcouldvote.com/results
On to today's post - there will be several of these up through election day because I volunteered as a poll-watcher for the League of Women Voters! I guess they're pretty desperate for warm bodies.
In Tennessee I guess they have Early Voting - this is very cool. Any registered voter can go to any Early Voting Poll station (In Davidson County there are 162 regular polling stations but only 12 are early voting locations). Early voting runs for 14 days starting Wednesday October 15th and through Thursday October 30th (but of course not Sundays).
So here's my diary for the first 4 days of early voting for 2008!
Even though Nashville and Davidson County governments have been incorporated together as a single entity since 1964, Belle Meade (which is all that it sounds and very, very red) retains it's own local government for a few services. Hence they have their own city hall. Here are some interesting stats about opening day: There are 13 poll workers there plus the officer. There are six women operating the computers where they look up the voter, check their ID and registration status and, if all good, they print out an "application" which is really an affidavit that you've voted but not a record of how you voted. Then you take that paper to a voting booth worker (there are 10 voting booths at BMCH). They have an electronic key (PEB) that they stick into a voting machine (these flat electronic tables with big LED screens). They activate a ballot for you and then you touch the screen and vote. They had about 5 people waiting at 7am and approximately 30 – 35 when the polls opened at 8am. At 4:58pm there was a lull so I voted and was the 17,699th vote cast in Davidson county.(The total for the day was approximately 18,000. In 2004 on the first day of early elections it was 8,000).
At 5:30 pm 1,215 people had voted at
IF YOU CAN VOTE EARLY DO SO! VOTE INVALIDATION - PURPOSEFUL OR ACCIDENTAL - IS HARDER TO ACCOMPLISH WITH EARLY VOTING. CHECK OUT THIS 80 MINUTE MOVIE: "UNCOUNTED: THE NEW MATH OF AMERICAN ELECTIONS". IT'S AMAZING! www.uncountedthemovie.com - this sober and well made film shows actual fraud, incompetence and everything in between. Learn how to protect your vote!
Also check out the results of this international poll - note the #'s voting in Australia, Canada, and elsewhere. http://www.iftheworldcouldvote.com/results
21 September 2008
The Blahhgg is Back! It's a rock! No, it's Sarah Palin's heart! No it's a TURTLE!
I know I know - 2-1/2 months since my last post. Y'all are thinking WTF? What can I say, summer traveling took over: WY; NY - city and mountains; and my beloved Jersey shore. But I'm back now and recommitted to filling your cerebral inbox with the most somnia-inducing stuff to ever hail from Nashvull. Apparently that's how REAL 'villienne's pronouce it. I don't know where I got this 'ville thing but what the heck. That's what I call it!
Of course what did completely overtake me was this general election and the entire Palin pageant of puffery! Just when I thought the general electorate couldn't disappoint me more - when I thought I was really at rock bottom - this PERSON arrives and almost eradicates all the final drips of confidence I had for that swirling tea called humanity. But now that I think of it, this PERSON has given me the opportunity to connect politically with many folks that I've never had the nerve to broach the topic with - and that's a good thing. After all what is democracy but discourse - sometimes discordant yes, but at least we're talking and sometimes listening - which is always, always, always better than shooting.
In my new department below (Plug o' the Post) you'll find some wonderful stuff that this PERSON has inspired. Excellent analysis and commentary and ways to participate - check it out.
But on to the turtle! I was in Townsend's Inlet for a very short stay with my pal Suzy from
SFS
U. TI, as it is known to those in the know, is one of the fabulous, comfy, middle class resorts along the fabulous Jersey shore where I spent summers growing up. The first evening I'm there she's got me paddling away in a double kayak and we're in the fabulous bay-side wetlands that Congressman Williams way back in the '70's took so much heat politically to protect (oh thank you sir! Here's a view of them with a full moon at sunrise).
We turn of the main waterway into the grasses and see this huge gray lump about 200 feet ahead.
At first we can't imagine really what it might be but pretty so
on we realize it's this HUGE DEAD SEA TURTLE! We try to get some decent pix of it but we were fighting a waning battery. Here's the rear->
<-And here's the front of it - you'll notice most of its face is submerged. You can't tell from these pix but it was about 6 ft long (what was showing) and I guessed it must have weighed 500 lbs. It was big and solid! Anyway we looked it up on the Internet and surmised that it is a standard green sea turtle - not a loggerhead or leatherback. It seemed freshly demised because it didn't stink and wasn't really bloating yet. It didn't belong this close to shore, but with Ike and Hannah and Gustav and whoever's next churning up the Carribean, I guess if got swept off course and stuck in the shallows of the Jersey inland waterway. As fascinating as this all was, it was also very distressing. We mourned it and reported it to Fish and Game, Wetlands Rescue, and the Coast Guard all of whom seemed at the most nonplussed and the least downright disinterested. The USCG were conveniently located right near Suzy's family's place and the nice young man there took all our info down and even tried to connect with us via kayak two days later when we went out to check on "our" turtle. But alas! The tide must have taken him out or else he might have sunk into the murky brack - we couldn't find him or the Coast Guardian. Missed opportunities abounding! I've now seen three large sea turtles in as many months: in June I saw two mating turtles off of Palm Beach Florida and now I saw this poor specimen in Jersey. I don't know what turtles symbolize but you can bet I'll be looking them up! The rest of the TI trip was super-fabu-lo-so! Scrabble games and eating breakfast in salt air and bike riding from Deauville in Strathmere all the way through Avalon (and past our old summer house) to the central shopping district of Stone Harbor (I forgot how GREAT end of season shopping is down here). Suzy's dad, Dewey, made his famous DeweyBuster cocktails (the recipe is ultra haute - it changes every night) and her mom, Edna, shared her delish shrimp salad with us (leftover from her "girls" luncheon). And then of course we went to Busch's - a TI landmark this is a rambling white structure with a package goods store, two bars and an enormous dining room specializing in Jersey shore favorites: crab fingers, fried clams, burgers, everything parmagiana, salads of iceberg and Jersey tomatoes. Some yum, some less so. The second night we went they were supposed to have "Larry" doing his lounge act but he called in sick and a guy name Jack Johnson was playing guitar and singing really loudly - he's a session musician I think and was quite good and played all kinds of stuff but nothing danceable. So we each drank two of these tasty vodka gimlets with fresh lime - lip smacking good - and the next morning my head seemed like soggy felt and my tummy tied in a square knot! Nothing like a hangover for my bus ride to NYC - oh, well. Since everyone was calling us "girls" I guess it was okay to act like one.
It was sooo wonderful to return to a place of my childhood and find all the really important things; the white sugar sand, the crisp slapping waves, the hazy blue skies and the green grass of the wetlands (just turning to autumn yellow) all unchanged. Did my skin and soul a world of good.
Plug o' the Post: Okay everyone, please read one or all of these (but especially the first) and then go find a McCain - Palin supporter and just ask "Why"? And keep asking, patiently and calmly, until they can't make a logical answer. And then just look at them. (Thanks to Matty Bloom and Meg Withers)
Of course what did completely overtake me was this general election and the entire Palin pageant of puffery! Just when I thought the general electorate couldn't disappoint me more - when I thought I was really at rock bottom - this PERSON arrives and almost eradicates all the final drips of confidence I had for that swirling tea called humanity. But now that I think of it, this PERSON has given me the opportunity to connect politically with many folks that I've never had the nerve to broach the topic with - and that's a good thing. After all what is democracy but discourse - sometimes discordant yes, but at least we're talking and sometimes listening - which is always, always, always better than shooting.
In my new department below (Plug o' the Post) you'll find some wonderful stuff that this PERSON has inspired. Excellent analysis and commentary and ways to participate - check it out.
But on to the turtle! I was in Townsend's Inlet for a very short stay with my pal Suzy from
SFS
U. TI, as it is known to those in the know, is one of the fabulous, comfy, middle class resorts along the fabulous Jersey shore where I spent summers growing up. The first evening I'm there she's got me paddling away in a double kayak and we're in the fabulous bay-side wetlands that Congressman Williams way back in the '70's took so much heat politically to protect (oh thank you sir! Here's a view of them with a full moon at sunrise).
We turn of the main waterway into the grasses and see this huge gray lump about 200 feet ahead.
At first we can't imagine really what it might be but pretty so
on we realize it's this HUGE DEAD SEA TURTLE! We try to get some decent pix of it but we were fighting a waning battery. Here's the rear->
<-And here's the front of it - you'll notice most of its face is submerged. You can't tell from these pix but it was about 6 ft long (what was showing) and I guessed it must have weighed 500 lbs. It was big and solid! Anyway we looked it up on the Internet and surmised that it is a standard green sea turtle - not a loggerhead or leatherback. It seemed freshly demised because it didn't stink and wasn't really bloating yet. It didn't belong this close to shore, but with Ike and Hannah and Gustav and whoever's next churning up the Carribean, I guess if got swept off course and stuck in the shallows of the Jersey inland waterway. As fascinating as this all was, it was also very distressing. We mourned it and reported it to Fish and Game, Wetlands Rescue, and the Coast Guard all of whom seemed at the most nonplussed and the least downright disinterested. The USCG were conveniently located right near Suzy's family's place and the nice young man there took all our info down and even tried to connect with us via kayak two days later when we went out to check on "our" turtle. But alas! The tide must have taken him out or else he might have sunk into the murky brack - we couldn't find him or the Coast Guardian. Missed opportunities abounding! I've now seen three large sea turtles in as many months: in June I saw two mating turtles off of Palm Beach Florida and now I saw this poor specimen in Jersey. I don't know what turtles symbolize but you can bet I'll be looking them up! The rest of the TI trip was super-fabu-lo-so! Scrabble games and eating breakfast in salt air and bike riding from Deauville in Strathmere all the way through Avalon (and past our old summer house) to the central shopping district of Stone Harbor (I forgot how GREAT end of season shopping is down here). Suzy's dad, Dewey, made his famous DeweyBuster cocktails (the recipe is ultra haute - it changes every night) and her mom, Edna, shared her delish shrimp salad with us (leftover from her "girls" luncheon). And then of course we went to Busch's - a TI landmark this is a rambling white structure with a package goods store, two bars and an enormous dining room specializing in Jersey shore favorites: crab fingers, fried clams, burgers, everything parmagiana, salads of iceberg and Jersey tomatoes. Some yum, some less so. The second night we went they were supposed to have "Larry" doing his lounge act but he called in sick and a guy name Jack Johnson was playing guitar and singing really loudly - he's a session musician I think and was quite good and played all kinds of stuff but nothing danceable. So we each drank two of these tasty vodka gimlets with fresh lime - lip smacking good - and the next morning my head seemed like soggy felt and my tummy tied in a square knot! Nothing like a hangover for my bus ride to NYC - oh, well. Since everyone was calling us "girls" I guess it was okay to act like one. It was sooo wonderful to return to a place of my childhood and find all the really important things; the white sugar sand, the crisp slapping waves, the hazy blue skies and the green grass of the wetlands (just turning to autumn yellow) all unchanged. Did my skin and soul a world of good.
Plug o' the Post: Okay everyone, please read one or all of these (but especially the first) and then go find a McCain - Palin supporter and just ask "Why"? And keep asking, patiently and calmly, until they can't make a logical answer. And then just look at them. (Thanks to Matty Bloom and Meg Withers) #1: This is Your Nation on White Privilege
By Tim Wise
9/13/08
For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who
are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it,
perhaps this list will help.
White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol
Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your
family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you
or your parents, because "every family has challenges," even as black
and Latino families with similar "challenges" are regularly typified as
irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.
White privilege is when you can call yourself a "fuckin' redneck," like
Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes
with you, you'll "kick their fuckin' ass," and talk about how you like
to "shoot shit" for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible,
all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.
White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six
years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of,
then returned to after making up some coursework at a community
college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to
achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as
unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first
place because of affirmative action.
White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller
than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with
about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of
Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people
don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S.
Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means
you're "untested."
White privilege is being able to say that you support the words "under
God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the
founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately
disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was
written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added until
the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and
terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you
used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous
and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals.
White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people
immediately scared of you.
White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an
extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the
Union, and whose motto was "Alaska first," and no one questions your
patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your#2: For women who would like to express your emphatic NO to Sara Palin, please email your thoughts to:womensaynopalin@gmail.com.
spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with
her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's
being disrespectful.
White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and
the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of
women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to
child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you
merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month
governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in
college--you're somehow being mean, or even sexist.
White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even
agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your
running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the
ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them
give your party a "second look."
White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your
political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a
typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and
merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in
Chicago means you must be corrupt.
White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors
say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going
to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who
say the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for
rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good
church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black
pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of
Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign
policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on
black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.
White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a
reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such
a "trick question," while being black and merely refusing to give
one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging
the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.
White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has
anything at all to do with your fitness for being president, while being
black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it
a "light" burden.
And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow
someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush
90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are
losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly
isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren't sure
about that whole "change" thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and
ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very
concrete and certain.
There is a write-up on ABC News regarding this blog: http://blogs.abcnews.com/politicalradar/2008/09/women-against-s.html.
I'm a little confused. Let me see if I have this straight.....
If you grow up in Hawaii , raised by your grandparents, you're "exotic,
different."
Grow up in Alaska eating mooseburgers, a quintessential American story.
If your name is Barack yor're a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.
Name your kids Willow , Trig and Track, and you're a maverick.
Graduate from Harvard law School and you are unstable.
Attend 5 different small colleges before graduating, you're well grounded.
If you spend 3 years as a community organizer, become the first black
President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter registration drive that
registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years as a Constitutional Law
professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator representing a district with
over 750,000 people, become chairman of the state Senate's Health and Human
Services committee, spend 4 years in the United States Senate representing a
state of 13 million people while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the
Foreign Affairs, Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs
committees, you don't have any real leadership experience.
If your resume is: local weather girl, 4 years on the city council and 6
years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000 people, 20 months as the
governor of a state with only 650,000 people, then you're qualified to
become the country's second highest ranking executive.
If you have been married to the same woman for 19 years while raising 2
daughters, all within Protestant churches, you're not a real Christian.
If you cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your
disfigured wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a Christian.
If you teach responsible, age appropriate sex education, including the
proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.
If, while governor, you staunchly advocate abstinence only, with no other
option in sex education in your state's school system while your unwed teen
daughter ends up pregnant, you're very responsible.
If your wife is a Harvard graduate laywer who gave up a position in a
prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city community,
then gave that up to raise a family, your family's values don't represent
America 's.
If your husband is nicknamed "First Dude", with at least one DWI conviction
and no college education, who didn't register to vote until age 25 and once
was a member of a group that advocated the secession of Alaska from the
USA , your family is extremely admirable.
OK, much clearer now.
02 July 2008
More on the 'ville! I've been Eddie-fied!
Oh gosh where to start? This place is really something: bemusing, bewitching and befuddling all for one low price!
The 'ville is all about that delicate ratio of food : booze : music. And my fellow 'villienne's, crafty chemists that they are, have they're sound waves and liquids down! The solids? Not so much.
For example: a couple of weeks ago we saw my dreamboat, the only androgyne for whom I throw my beloved hubby over for: Eddie Izzard. He was at the adorable and intimate Ryman Auditorium and we had great seats that we bought that evening (for a modest surcharge over face. Remember this event sold out two months prior). Anyhoo I left with cheeks aching from laughter and joy in my heart that there are like-minded others who believe in the enduring and entertaining power of language and reason over snake-handling and mean otherness.
Even though the guy went on non-stop for two hours we weren't done. So we wended our way over to this fabulous club: 3rd & Lindsley (website attached) and walked into this local band who does nothing but Greg Allman band tunes (appropriately monikered The Midnight Riders)
OMFG! These guys had 2 drummers both with FULL DRUM KITS onstage and this badass Hammond B-3, two excellent guitarists (the one in the yellow shirt was so completely facile with those rich and wild Allman arrangements is was like he was benchpressing Arnold the Gubernator with his little pinkie). I mean there's not enough hyperbole in a Senate hearing on flag pins to describe how incredibly good and faithful these guys were. AND THE COVER WAS $7! I think drinks were all under $10. Talk about cost-benefit ratios!
My new Nashville pal, Carol, loves the place and said when she returned to the 'ville from her exile in LA she walked into 3 & L and Lucinda Williams was playing: OK? 'nuffathat.
So you can fill your ears with the most unimaginatively excellent and varied stuff around. And you can swill really excellent wines and spirits from all over the planet. Fully compensatory for the less opulent and frequently ill prepared solids? I'll have to do more research on that but in the meantime there are good places: like Neely's...
NEW ITEM! Plug of the Post: this is a new department I've formed in the ever expanding empire of val-in-the-ville. Each post will have at least one unabashedly fawning plug for some product or service. These will mainly come from my new hometown but not always, and since it's a late arrival I've included two: one each from my old and new domiciles.
So Neely's - these brothers and uncles have been in the 'Q business since the late '80's and opened their pits in the 'ville in 2001. Oh joy! This is PERFECT 'Q: not too sweet or gooey; very well cooked and causing that divine sense of yumminess in all parts of the body once consumed. And they had me in mind when they created their 'Q salad: a big romaine salad topped (dare I say smothered) with your choice of 'qued pork, beef or turkey. I had the pork my first time and here's a shot of it half eaten!
They also do this intuitively obvious but new-to-me thing: 'qued spaghetti! Never saw it before either but doesn't that just make sense! Judging from the sizes I think I'll order that the next time I do a triathlon.
Plug of the Post: My beloved and dearly missed SF has a purveyor of hair/face/home stuff called Nancy Boy and Eric, the owner and resident maniac, writes this newsletter that LOL! And his products are really good too! No animal testing, and all natch, natch. I've pasted his latest billet to friends below. Check it out and enjoy a good laugh and some great pomades and pastes!
Next up: wildlife in the 'ville - they're everywhere - day and night, inside and out!
And now a word from Nancy Boy!
"Lucky for you we are off the hook with dope phatness, ready to provide up-to-the-minute reports on the unspeakable subversions of San Francisco where we're going to bed way past 10 pm and not standing during the national anthem and driving past a house where a sex party was held in 1991 and knowing people who smoke Mary Jane openly in the bathroom and the police don't do one solitary thing. Not only that, you heard it here first and sit your ass down because it's a shocker, the gays are getting married. Yes. As my Uncle Horace is wont to remark about the President's ears, "Don't make me no nevermind but how'd they get that way in the first place?"
A domineering mother, an absent father and too many Abercrombie catalogues lying around the house is the consensus view but other questions swirl through my head. Like how do they decide who's the man and who's the lady? Probably by getting the test from the drugstore that turns one color if you're the man and one color if you're the virgin then they know who wears the dress and veil. But I advise doing a few tests to make sure because when the man lifts the veil, if the lady is a man not a virgin all her hair falls out. And I mean ALL. When foreign tourists visit, I love taking picnic lunch to strangers' weddings and blowing our kazoos when the hair stays in—it's a beautiful ritual to share, and our foreign friends are always speechless with an emotion of some kind.
And what about one's hairy legs? Were I to appear in a stunning Members Only® designer gown, for which I might pay as much as $49.99 considering it would be a once or at most five-in-a-lifetime event, I'd want my legs to be smooth and silky, a concern shared with at least three of the women in San Francisco's fine intramural field hockey league.
"Not to worry," as Dick Cheney said before reloading. Our globally renowned shave creams have caught on among a phalanx of she-shavers who use it on their legs and underarms. Makes sense; with that much surface area, they know it's even more important to use the premium cream.
This month we salute our brides-to-be with the gift of true shaving satisfaction, the secret your own mother would have told you about if only we lived in a more open society. The pre-shave oil that virtually eliminates nicks, bumps and razor burn for men performs the same miracle for women. Skeptical? Then try it for free. Just place a July order with an after-discount total of $60 and choose Original Signature scent or Unscented-For-Sensitive-Skin pre-shave oil, a $19 value: http://www.nancyboy.com/home.php?cat=263 Or choose a full-size bottle of mild facial cleanser. Look for a box with these choices to pop up in your shopping cart when you hit the spending threshold. If you don't see the choices then stop pretending you don't need reading glasses and tell us what you want in the Customer Notes box during checkout. And by all means shop we're not doing this for our health: http://www.nancyboy.com/home.php
The 'ville is all about that delicate ratio of food : booze : music. And my fellow 'villienne's, crafty chemists that they are, have they're sound waves and liquids down! The solids? Not so much.
For example: a couple of weeks ago we saw my dreamboat, the only androgyne for whom I throw my beloved hubby over for: Eddie Izzard. He was at the adorable and intimate Ryman Auditorium and we had great seats that we bought that evening (for a modest surcharge over face. Remember this event sold out two months prior). Anyhoo I left with cheeks aching from laughter and joy in my heart that there are like-minded others who believe in the enduring and entertaining power of language and reason over snake-handling and mean otherness.
Even though the guy went on non-stop for two hours we weren't done. So we wended our way over to this fabulous club: 3rd & Lindsley (website attached) and walked into this local band who does nothing but Greg Allman band tunes (appropriately monikered The Midnight Riders)
OMFG! These guys had 2 drummers both with FULL DRUM KITS onstage and this badass Hammond B-3, two excellent guitarists (the one in the yellow shirt was so completely facile with those rich and wild Allman arrangements is was like he was benchpressing Arnold the Gubernator with his little pinkie). I mean there's not enough hyperbole in a Senate hearing on flag pins to describe how incredibly good and faithful these guys were. AND THE COVER WAS $7! I think drinks were all under $10. Talk about cost-benefit ratios!My new Nashville pal, Carol, loves the place and said when she returned to the 'ville from her exile in LA she walked into 3 & L and Lucinda Williams was playing: OK? 'nuffathat.
So you can fill your ears with the most unimaginatively excellent and varied stuff around. And you can swill really excellent wines and spirits from all over the planet. Fully compensatory for the less opulent and frequently ill prepared solids? I'll have to do more research on that but in the meantime there are good places: like Neely's...
NEW ITEM! Plug of the Post: this is a new department I've formed in the ever expanding empire of val-in-the-ville. Each post will have at least one unabashedly fawning plug for some product or service. These will mainly come from my new hometown but not always, and since it's a late arrival I've included two: one each from my old and new domiciles.
So Neely's - these brothers and uncles have been in the 'Q business since the late '80's and opened their pits in the 'ville in 2001. Oh joy! This is PERFECT 'Q: not too sweet or gooey; very well cooked and causing that divine sense of yumminess in all parts of the body once consumed. And they had me in mind when they created their 'Q salad: a big romaine salad topped (dare I say smothered) with your choice of 'qued pork, beef or turkey. I had the pork my first time and here's a shot of it half eaten!
They also do this intuitively obvious but new-to-me thing: 'qued spaghetti! Never saw it before either but doesn't that just make sense! Judging from the sizes I think I'll order that the next time I do a triathlon.
Plug of the Post: My beloved and dearly missed SF has a purveyor of hair/face/home stuff called Nancy Boy and Eric, the owner and resident maniac, writes this newsletter that LOL! And his products are really good too! No animal testing, and all natch, natch. I've pasted his latest billet to friends below. Check it out and enjoy a good laugh and some great pomades and pastes!
Next up: wildlife in the 'ville - they're everywhere - day and night, inside and out!
And now a word from Nancy Boy!
"Lucky for you we are off the hook with dope phatness, ready to provide up-to-the-minute reports on the unspeakable subversions of San Francisco where we're going to bed way past 10 pm and not standing during the national anthem and driving past a house where a sex party was held in 1991 and knowing people who smoke Mary Jane openly in the bathroom and the police don't do one solitary thing. Not only that, you heard it here first and sit your ass down because it's a shocker, the gays are getting married. Yes. As my Uncle Horace is wont to remark about the President's ears, "Don't make me no nevermind but how'd they get that way in the first place?"
A domineering mother, an absent father and too many Abercrombie catalogues lying around the house is the consensus view but other questions swirl through my head. Like how do they decide who's the man and who's the lady? Probably by getting the test from the drugstore that turns one color if you're the man and one color if you're the virgin then they know who wears the dress and veil. But I advise doing a few tests to make sure because when the man lifts the veil, if the lady is a man not a virgin all her hair falls out. And I mean ALL. When foreign tourists visit, I love taking picnic lunch to strangers' weddings and blowing our kazoos when the hair stays in—it's a beautiful ritual to share, and our foreign friends are always speechless with an emotion of some kind.
And what about one's hairy legs? Were I to appear in a stunning Members Only® designer gown, for which I might pay as much as $49.99 considering it would be a once or at most five-in-a-lifetime event, I'd want my legs to be smooth and silky, a concern shared with at least three of the women in San Francisco's fine intramural field hockey league.
"Not to worry," as Dick Cheney said before reloading. Our globally renowned shave creams have caught on among a phalanx of she-shavers who use it on their legs and underarms. Makes sense; with that much surface area, they know it's even more important to use the premium cream.
This month we salute our brides-to-be with the gift of true shaving satisfaction, the secret your own mother would have told you about if only we lived in a more open society. The pre-shave oil that virtually eliminates nicks, bumps and razor burn for men performs the same miracle for women. Skeptical? Then try it for free. Just place a July order with an after-discount total of $60 and choose Original Signature scent or Unscented-For-Sensitive-Skin pre-shave oil, a $19 value: http://www.nancyboy.com/home.php?cat=263 Or choose a full-size bottle of mild facial cleanser. Look for a box with these choices to pop up in your shopping cart when you hit the spending threshold. If you don't see the choices then stop pretending you don't need reading glasses and tell us what you want in the Customer Notes box during checkout. And by all means shop we're not doing this for our health: http://www.nancyboy.com/home.php
21 June 2008
SFSU Graduation Redux
Just want to pop this pix into the record of the big day. Pictured below from the Creative Writing Dept's post grad soiree, that's Michelle Carter, Roy Conboy, Andrea Kuchlewska and Anne Galjour.
These three professors along with three not pictured (Brian Thorstenson, Truong Tran and Larry Eilenberg) are responsible for turning me, a wannabe, into a genuine artist, writer, playwright, poet.
They turned me into a turner of words into heat and light and heft; that hopefully sit in the tummies and brains and ears of others. To create something that someone remembers, recalls with delight (or, even better, revulsioin).
To challenge others to think or feel or consider an idea or scene or concept differently. They all do that and showed me ways to do it myself. And everyday I keep trying to do it.
And a final shot of me with my tassel -> make up and hair by J-Ha who's available for weddings and Valentine's Days!
These three professors along with three not pictured (Brian Thorstenson, Truong Tran and Larry Eilenberg) are responsible for turning me, a wannabe, into a genuine artist, writer, playwright, poet.They turned me into a turner of words into heat and light and heft; that hopefully sit in the tummies and brains and ears of others. To create something that someone remembers, recalls with delight (or, even better, revulsioin).
To challenge others to think or feel or consider an idea or scene or concept differently. They all do that and showed me ways to do it myself. And everyday I keep trying to do it.
ThankyouMichellethankyouRoythankyouLarrythankyouAnnthankyouTruong
andthankyouBrian!
andthankyouBrian!
And a final shot of me with my tassel -> make up and hair by J-Ha who's available for weddings and Valentine's Days!
05 June 2008
Interlude: SFSU Graduation - bigger, better and multikulti!
Four weekends ago I graduated from San Francisco State University with my 
MFA in Creative Writing. That's me standing (with no grad cap on) in the sea of purple & gold Gators! ->
I had not participated in a graduation ceremony since my high school set me loose on the world back in the seventies (the ultimate age of apathy). Graduation ceremonies were hot and boring and long and grandiose. Also it didn't help that I was totally disconnected to my original undergrad and graduate school experiences way back then.
But SFSU was different - I LOVE that place. I LOVE Creative Writing and the profs and the other students and I am so sad to leave but the 'ville was yodeling for me. So I donned the Gator
purple and orange, and walked the walk with my pals Andrea and Chris (both playwrights) ->
<- and Ali (a poet - the one with the "poety" kinda look) and Lindsey (a fiction writer). But before we walked the walk and shook the hand of our dean we heard some GREAT speeches that made me PROUD to be a Gator (I kid you not). I've attached the link above to all the speeches - and definietly read Joseph L. White's speech. He was honored as Alumnus of the Year and is considered the Father of Black Psychology, the precursor to Ethnic Studies. He was GREAT AND FUNNY! He used the old call and response like any great preacher would. He'd say "How long" [do we need to wait for our generation to do soemthing about "your pet ill here"] and we'd scream back "NOT LONG". It was a ruckus and of course caused all the subsequent speakers to be brief! I 
didn't get a snap of Johnson but here are some others: <- Corrigan is the Dean of the whole school, a jowly Saint Bernard of a guy who's also got an activist's heart. He ran that graduation like a well oiled protest march: briskly paced, with a hint that something wild and unexpected could leap out at any moment. 
Isabel Allende was honored and was her perfect self: a delight to the ear and heart. Although I was only 4 rows from the dias her image projected on the big screen behind her seemed compelling.
Our commencement address was given by none other than Gavin Newsom, our famed and media darled mayor. He was treated to rock start screaming and squeals and quite enjoyed himself - his was the longest speech, the least focused (as befits his dyslexic and political states) and was the only person without cap. But he was fun and an excellent sport.
Afterwords the Creative Writing / English Departments held a little soiree in the Humanities building. I've got more snaps and commentary but right now I gotta get out of here.
MFA in Creative Writing. That's me standing (with no grad cap on) in the sea of purple & gold Gators! ->I had not participated in a graduation ceremony since my high school set me loose on the world back in the seventies (the ultimate age of apathy). Graduation ceremonies were hot and boring and long and grandiose. Also it didn't help that I was totally disconnected to my original undergrad and graduate school experiences way back then.
But SFSU was different - I LOVE that place. I LOVE Creative Writing and the profs and the other students and I am so sad to leave but the 'ville was yodeling for me. So I donned the Gator
purple and orange, and walked the walk with my pals Andrea and Chris (both playwrights) ->
<- and Ali (a poet - the one with the "poety" kinda look) and Lindsey (a fiction writer). But before we walked the walk and shook the hand of our dean we heard some GREAT speeches that made me PROUD to be a Gator (I kid you not). I've attached the link above to all the speeches - and definietly read Joseph L. White's speech. He was honored as Alumnus of the Year and is considered the Father of Black Psychology, the precursor to Ethnic Studies. He was GREAT AND FUNNY! He used the old call and response like any great preacher would. He'd say "How long" [do we need to wait for our generation to do soemthing about "your pet ill here"] and we'd scream back "NOT LONG". It was a ruckus and of course caused all the subsequent speakers to be brief! I 
didn't get a snap of Johnson but here are some others: <- Corrigan is the Dean of the whole school, a jowly Saint Bernard of a guy who's also got an activist's heart. He ran that graduation like a well oiled protest march: briskly paced, with a hint that something wild and unexpected could leap out at any moment. 
Isabel Allende was honored and was her perfect self: a delight to the ear and heart. Although I was only 4 rows from the dias her image projected on the big screen behind her seemed compelling.
Our commencement address was given by none other than Gavin Newsom, our famed and media darled mayor. He was treated to rock start screaming and squeals and quite enjoyed himself - his was the longest speech, the least focused (as befits his dyslexic and political states) and was the only person without cap. But he was fun and an excellent sport.Afterwords the Creative Writing / English Departments held a little soiree in the Humanities building. I've got more snaps and commentary but right now I gotta get out of here.
04 June 2008
Blahhgg #9: Q &A on The 'ville...What's it like?
I'm getting this question a lot and the short answer is nice...and not San Francisco.
"Duh" I'm hearing and you're right but no matter how much I nutted up for the move, there are several things I didn't expect:
1. Geography: I forgot how easy it is to live in many other places (and how cheap). The 'ville is pretty small geographically and it's not very densely populated. So almost everything is reasonably close and there's few lines for things and tons of parking which makes getting around much simpler and faster. In fact most people when queried reply "oh that's about 20 minutes from here." And it's true (unless you drive like me and then it's 10 minutes).
2. Beauty: The 'ville is located in what's called Middle Tennessee. It's verdant with rolling hills and very pretty rivers (Cumberland & Harpeth are two big ones right in the metro area). There are beautiful trees and flowers everywhere and lovely old homes (both restored and decrepit). It's the most suburban urban place I've ever lived in, even in the center of downtown: right behind the state capitol building is the farmer's market!
3. No one seems to be in a hurry. It's nice but weird. I find myself rushing off somewhere and I look around and think "What for the rush?" Makes me feel like an alien (the kind with an antenna).
3. Quantity & Quality: I think I might have mentioned this before but they really like drinking spirits, beer and wine. And all the best wine lists in town (and there are a bunch of them that are GREAT - broad and big) have a white Zinfandel by the glass up their next to their Chardonnays and white Bordeaux's. You drink it? They pour it. This attitude pervades the music scene too.
4. Christianity: The 'ville is known as "the buckle of the Bible belt" and that ain't mere braggadocio. There are churches of every stripe everywhere but I think this is actually world HQ for the Baptist Convention. They have a big hospital here and a big publishing house here for all their - stuff.
But the wide reach of this really hit home when Mike and I went to register our car. They must have 150 different kinds of license plates available with many of them financially supporting various non-profit organizations and causes. When you go to the website there are all kinds of plates but I was shocked when I came across this one:
Apparently some portion of the extra fee for this plate is "allocated to New Life Resources and shall be used exclusively for counseling and financial assistance including food, clothing, and medical assistance for pregnant women in Tennessee and will also be used to coordinate statewide awareness campaigns, a toll-free helpline and to reimburse social service providers who prepare adoptions throughout the state for services and programs targeting at-risk women and families."
I couldn't believe it. I looked up New Life Resources and it got worse: they are the "ministry materials distribution center of Campus Crusade for Christ" and right on their website is the invitation: "Darwin or Design: examine the evidence yourself". These guys manage to revolt me in two of the most key parts of my life: a woman's right to choose and the idiotic conflation of religion and science.
Oh well - at least we're not in Kansas.
"Duh" I'm hearing and you're right but no matter how much I nutted up for the move, there are several things I didn't expect:
1. Geography: I forgot how easy it is to live in many other places (and how cheap). The 'ville is pretty small geographically and it's not very densely populated. So almost everything is reasonably close and there's few lines for things and tons of parking which makes getting around much simpler and faster. In fact most people when queried reply "oh that's about 20 minutes from here." And it's true (unless you drive like me and then it's 10 minutes).
2. Beauty: The 'ville is located in what's called Middle Tennessee. It's verdant with rolling hills and very pretty rivers (Cumberland & Harpeth are two big ones right in the metro area). There are beautiful trees and flowers everywhere and lovely old homes (both restored and decrepit). It's the most suburban urban place I've ever lived in, even in the center of downtown: right behind the state capitol building is the farmer's market!
3. No one seems to be in a hurry. It's nice but weird. I find myself rushing off somewhere and I look around and think "What for the rush?" Makes me feel like an alien (the kind with an antenna).
3. Quantity & Quality: I think I might have mentioned this before but they really like drinking spirits, beer and wine. And all the best wine lists in town (and there are a bunch of them that are GREAT - broad and big) have a white Zinfandel by the glass up their next to their Chardonnays and white Bordeaux's. You drink it? They pour it. This attitude pervades the music scene too.
4. Christianity: The 'ville is known as "the buckle of the Bible belt" and that ain't mere braggadocio. There are churches of every stripe everywhere but I think this is actually world HQ for the Baptist Convention. They have a big hospital here and a big publishing house here for all their - stuff.
But the wide reach of this really hit home when Mike and I went to register our car. They must have 150 different kinds of license plates available with many of them financially supporting various non-profit organizations and causes. When you go to the website there are all kinds of plates but I was shocked when I came across this one:
Apparently some portion of the extra fee for this plate is "allocated to New Life Resources and shall be used exclusively for counseling and financial assistance including food, clothing, and medical assistance for pregnant women in Tennessee and will also be used to coordinate statewide awareness campaigns, a toll-free helpline and to reimburse social service providers who prepare adoptions throughout the state for services and programs targeting at-risk women and families."
I couldn't believe it. I looked up New Life Resources and it got worse: they are the "ministry materials distribution center of Campus Crusade for Christ" and right on their website is the invitation: "Darwin or Design: examine the evidence yourself". These guys manage to revolt me in two of the most key parts of my life: a woman's right to choose and the idiotic conflation of religion and science.
Oh well - at least we're not in Kansas.
02 June 2008
Blahhgg #8: Q &A on The 'ville...le chapitre l'un
Pardon my French. It's just the -ville suffix of Nashville, Smallville, Alphaville, etc. is directly from the French for town or village; French being the language of sophistication and taste during the Enlightenment. Nashville was founded in 1779 as Fort Nashborough at a site on the Cumberland River known as French Lick. Precisely when it became Nashville I haven't sussed yet but someone obviously was under the spell of Francophilia - and rightly so. Any day is a good day for le français!So those of you kind enough to actually read this blah, blah, blahhgg before you wrap your Second Life fish in it are asking questions about "how's life/food/your place/the town/the people..." So I'll try to answer those questions over the next several posts and if I can keep my (surprising only to me) loquaciousness down to a mere gush, you may get only a few tangential subjects thrown in as well. Here goes:
Q: How's the food?
A: I don't know if this is a testament to my physique, behavior or my true home of San Francisco - Foodie Heaven - but this is the most FAQ I've gotten so far. Here's the answer: The 'ville is known for its music.
With respect to culination the big claim to fame here is the "meat & three" phenomenon. This is a
designation - used only at dinnertime - for a one-price meal that includes a meat-based entree and three sides (none of which are salads unless you count potato salad). Here's a typical meat & three plate: meatloaf with mashers & gravy, fried okra and crowder peas (more on them later).As a way to advertise a bargain - it's marketing genius. And as a marker for the best canned vegetables one can buy under the sun, you can count it for that as well. All that snidery aside I've had some very enjoyable and even really, really good meals here. But even for Southern cuisine I wouldn't say The 'ville is distinguished. For BBQ Memphis is apparently the place and I've already expounded at great length about my currently fav fish shack: Soul Fish Cafe. But I know there are several purportedly really good fish/chicken shacks in town and local Dee's BBQ is supposed to be great too. I'll report on them after I've recovered from the inevitable food coma.
TODAY'S BLAHHGG BULLSEYE: This is an occasional item which will highlight a local establishment of any ilk - today it's one of The 'ville's "Best Diners": Rotiers.The minute I saw this place I liked it, despite the fact they it is pronounced locally as Row-Tears.
This is an old, gorgeous diner that reminds me of places from my own upbringing. It's got that pre-"gentrification, the whole world's gotta look like Disneyland or the new Times Square" authenticity that I really love. Don'cha love the stone facing and the signage?
The other delightful thing about the palce is it's interior which I didn't have the nerver to shoot. I've linked their website to this post so you can see the booths and paneling - the effect is that warm, cozy, dog-eared feeling of the places your grandfather or uncle or father might have taken you to which none of the women in your family would approve of. They opened in 1945 and Coca Cola sent them a certificate of acknowledgement for serving Cokes there since 1945. They still serve the beverage in those little shapley glass bottles that have not been super-sized!
That said the food is righteous steam table fare: I had the 3-vegie combo selecting the fried okra, turnip greens and the crowder peas. The greens were great - obviously cooked in some porcine effluvia which made them taste fantastic even if they were almost dissolved. The fried okra was a dissapointment and I'm fairly certain that they began their life at Rotiers in a freezer bag. The crowder peas were something altogether different:
The crowder pea is not a pea at all but a true bean (legume) related to the black-eyed pea. I've attached a short description of them and their relations (generally called cowpeas or field peas) below from http://www.victoryseeds.com. Anyway the crowder peas served at Rotier's looked like those small Spanish peanuts. They were cooked soft, with a starchy texture and nutty flavor. They were absolutely yummy mixed with the greens. And of course, they were out of a can, which means that Val can make them too!
Rotier's is "famous" for it's burgers: Mike ordered one and it looked and tasted quite serviceable but overall for me, Rotier's is about the atmosphere and aesthetics of place. That way cool sixties, groovy logo says it all for me.
From Victory Seeds:
There are four types of cowpeas. They are:
-
Field pea - Vigorous, vine-type plants with smaller seeds.
-
Crowder pea - The seeds are crowded into the pods and starchy.
-
Cream pea - Small plants with light colored peas. Examples are 'Texas Cream' and 'Zipper Cream'.
-
"Black-eyed" pea - Intermediate size plants. Examples are 'Blackeye Pea' and 'Pinkeye Purple Hull BVR
31 May 2008
Book Review: four letter words by Truong Tran
Four Letter Words by Truong Tran
My review
rating: 5 of 5 stars
Yowza! Poetry with a vengeance...makes people who don't "like" poetry cry and that's a good thing. Fabulous backstory to this book tho' not a prerequisite for beatific results. Recommended dosage: twice a week or whenever mediocrity overwhelms. Up dosage to daily as November elections approach.
View all my reviews.
30 May 2008
Blahhgg #7: Initial iotas on The 'ville...
So we've been here 3.5 weeks approximately and I must admit it: I like it. I like it much more than many of the relo's I've been through (including Santa Clara). Some first impressions for ya':
The 'ville is a PARTY town but dissimilar from SF Party Town. I remember when I first got to SF I thought "okay so they can't deal with the scat of the homeless on the streets but they can sure throw parties." And especially parties around sex/gender/nudity: Pride, Folsom Street Fair (my very first SF civic event - yowza!), Bay to Breakers (with their perennial running nudists - ick), Exotic Erotic Ball, etc.
The 'ville is all about music/cafe society; all kinds of music and drinks - pre-gig drinks, drinks during gigs, post-gig drinks. Not just alkihall either - this is a big wine town. All the good restaurants have good to great wine lists (and can we tawk about the low prices? Oy!). There are at least two restaurants with 100 wines by the glass! They all have good tequila choices too and, of course, the full selection of brown likker: scotches, whiskies and buhrbun.
The other demonstration of how SERIOUS they are about their cafe society is the hours: last call is 2:45 am. You can get nice dinner in town up until that hour as well. Many places open at 11am and close at 2 or 3am. That's a lifestyle commitment!
In addition to music, something I love about Nashville is the weather. Face it - I was raised in NJ where the humidity bred mosquitoes big enough to go cowtipping at night. I know humidity and mugginess and fireflies and thunderstorms. And those of you who know me well and have stood still long enough have heard my diatribes about how much I miss all that (not the mosquitoes though). So even though in August I'll probably be whining about it like I never left it, right now, I'm enjoying thawing out from the perennial coolness of SF. The spring here has been lovely with very little humiditiy - so I've felt welcomed.
But the thing that has reminded more than anything else of how South we really have moved - more than the blue laws, the Christian scripture quotations at the end of yoga classes, and the lovely soft accents, is that fact that the sun rises about an hour earlier here! That I was not prepared for - 5:30am is broad daylight!
The first two weeks I found it quite disorienting - my bedroom (which has no curtains just yet) flooded with sunlight before 6am even. And it prompted the following scribble:
Daylight drinking makes the cowgirl come out. She hip checks her hipster and sucks
down homey brew. Daylight drinking in moist sun and tender air with you, my newest
darling. I taste your big vowels of cotton. I want to sing all the time. Your wood working ways
turn me shapley spindle despite my brinded hair and netted skin.
Is 50 too old for a new lover?
The 'ville is a PARTY town but dissimilar from SF Party Town. I remember when I first got to SF I thought "okay so they can't deal with the scat of the homeless on the streets but they can sure throw parties." And especially parties around sex/gender/nudity: Pride, Folsom Street Fair (my very first SF civic event - yowza!), Bay to Breakers (with their perennial running nudists - ick), Exotic Erotic Ball, etc.
The 'ville is all about music/cafe society; all kinds of music and drinks - pre-gig drinks, drinks during gigs, post-gig drinks. Not just alkihall either - this is a big wine town. All the good restaurants have good to great wine lists (and can we tawk about the low prices? Oy!). There are at least two restaurants with 100 wines by the glass! They all have good tequila choices too and, of course, the full selection of brown likker: scotches, whiskies and buhrbun.
The other demonstration of how SERIOUS they are about their cafe society is the hours: last call is 2:45 am. You can get nice dinner in town up until that hour as well. Many places open at 11am and close at 2 or 3am. That's a lifestyle commitment!
In addition to music, something I love about Nashville is the weather. Face it - I was raised in NJ where the humidity bred mosquitoes big enough to go cowtipping at night. I know humidity and mugginess and fireflies and thunderstorms. And those of you who know me well and have stood still long enough have heard my diatribes about how much I miss all that (not the mosquitoes though). So even though in August I'll probably be whining about it like I never left it, right now, I'm enjoying thawing out from the perennial coolness of SF. The spring here has been lovely with very little humiditiy - so I've felt welcomed.
But the thing that has reminded more than anything else of how South we really have moved - more than the blue laws, the Christian scripture quotations at the end of yoga classes, and the lovely soft accents, is that fact that the sun rises about an hour earlier here! That I was not prepared for - 5:30am is broad daylight!
The first two weeks I found it quite disorienting - my bedroom (which has no curtains just yet) flooded with sunlight before 6am even. And it prompted the following scribble:
Daylight drinking makes the cowgirl come out. She hip checks her hipster and sucks
down homey brew. Daylight drinking in moist sun and tender air with you, my newest
darling. I taste your big vowels of cotton. I want to sing all the time. Your wood working ways
turn me shapley spindle despite my brinded hair and netted skin.
Is 50 too old for a new lover?
29 May 2008
Blahhgg #6 – I'm now a Villien!
Ah yes - arising in Fort Smith - where else is the Visitor's and Convention Bureau housed in a formerly notorious whorehouse! How true to Fort Smith's recent history as border town to the American west. But everything's tamed now. The only raucousness emanating from bars when yuppie vultures from the big consulting firms (8, 6, 3?) alight to try to cosset some personal merger activity from the local wildlife. We were hit on (!) but having been in their shoes a scant 10 years ago we identified their stale humor immediately!So we hit the road but not before dipping into the local Starbucks which is replete with a yuoung hipster in skinny pants, aviators and WHITE driving loafers. (I guess Vogue is nationally distributed).
Driving along we pass a road sign for Clarksville (as in "The Last Train to..."; penned by Neil Diamond for the fabulous Monkees). The moisture of the place is slowly seeping in - everything feels a little plumper and more vital.
A scene I missed photographing was a row of wind turbine blades laid out ready for installation. These are enormous! When they're mounted on the poles and turning they just don't look as big. Here's a shot cribbed from the Internet to give a sense of how big BIG really is:
Very cool. We also saw lots of trucks carting them around (also huge!). At least someone somewhere is harnessing a renewable energy source that also doesn't seem to require coal or some other such odious fuel for creation.
We pass Toad Suck Park, AR (exit 129) and pretty soon after that we were crossing the BIG river - they Mighty M - right into Memphis and Tennessee - my new home state! Woo hoo!!!
To inaugurate me into proper TN culture we stopped at a fish
shack in Memphis called SoulFish. All I can say is Super Duper Yum!!!! MM got the catfish basket which came with the most 
perfectly fried (see below) catfish I've ever had (4 big pieces) and 3 HUGE hush puppies that were the most delectable things: crisp light hot with whole corn and bits of jalapeno inside. I've never had a hush puppy that good (and most are really awful) but these things were like "more please sir" to the max! I had a salad because I spied coconut cake. They gave me a wedge that was like 1/4 of an entire cake - OMG. Unbelievable. Memphis is 4 hours from The 'ville but we're going back soon babee!We moseyed past high points like the Tennessee River Fresh Water Pearl Musem and Bucknort
but I could hear my honey calling and wasn't stopping for nanythin' else. We rolled into The 'ville at 4:50pm and ta daaa! The end of the Road Trip!The Moral of the Story: Size matters. America is big country and it's just ridiculous (and hence certain) for any of us to make generalizations. But if it's details and particulars that distinguish us, it is the process of living where our shared DNA resides.
[Unsolicited Political Rant: And oh how I do wish the mass media would get that. These recent calls for Obama to demonstrate how he 's a "regular guy" the way W. did - where people said "well I'd like to sit down and have a beer with the guy". Well Chick-O-Ree - just 'cause the moron can drink beer and crack a joke doesn't mean he can effectivley lead Amereica! Guess we know that now (lowest approval rating of ANY incumbent ever). So hello Geo. Stephanopoulos, Geo. Will, David Brooks, etc., etc. Get off that horse already! Obama has a family, eats breakfast and does something at some point to relax.]
Up next: Val in The Ville for real!
28 May 2008
Blahhgg #5: Day Four – of Drop (Dead Delish) Biscuits and Memorials de la Muertes
Okay: I've been in Nashville for 3 1/2 weeks now and I'm still blahgging about the road trip getting there. So I'm going to try to push through the last two days so I can move to the end of the space time continuum that everybody else is operating in (is that good?).Even though it's situated in a dreaded red state territory I was really looking forward to the National Memorial in Oklahoma City - built on the site of the Alfred J. Murrah building which was bombed in 1995 - and the adjacent Museum which occupies the former Journal Record building. The effort to create this memorial/museum has been much written about because it was such unique effort - many different constituencies (survivors, victims families, service personnel, governmental agencies, etc.) were all tapped for input in a open but structured process. And someone evidently had final say because (unlike the 911 site in NYC) they finished the thing.
So we arrive in OKay Citay around noon on Thursday, May 2nd (where else can you just drive up to the front of a national memorial midday and find ample street parking with 2 hour meters). The first thing we saw was a long chain link fence with the personal decorations that people leave at these places (there's now like 60,000 items there). 
You can't see the memorial at this point because there's a big concrete barrier fence behind the chain link. You just proceed through this opening and this is what unfolds in front of you. What you don't realize is that there is a matching portal to the one you see at the end of the pool (you just walked through it). These two gates represent the minute before the bombing (9:01) and the minute after (9:03). It's very monumental and impressive and beautiful and (on the day we were there) quiet.Then to your immediate right is the Field of Empty Chairs.
This is my favorite part of the memorial - 168 chairs, one for each person who died (including 19 children who perished in the Murrah building day care center). The chairs are bronze with translucent glass bases (where the names are etched) and so if you look quickly the bronze parts look like they're floating. There are several set apart from the bulk of them and they commemorate people who were outside the building when they died. The very first chair you reach is for Rebecca Needham Anderson, a nurse who died from injuries she sustained trying to rescue others.
The 9:03 gate (that you're facing when you enter the memorial) is also one of several spots where you can interact directly with the memorial (although you're not prohibited from touching anything or walking anywhere on the grounds). Here's someone trying to make his mark on the gate.
I have tons more pictures that I'll be posting later but I want to get to what's in the museum: they've done a fantastic job of presenting information and relics from the entire history of the building as well as during and after the blast. Organized into "chapters" the topics range from "Chapter 1 - Background on Terrorism" through the explosion itself (you can sit in on a hearing of the Oklahoma Water Resources Board which was being audio recorded and thus hear the blast itself which is really unbelievable) all the way through the investigation and prosecution of the perpetrators. They seemed to have saved tons of rubble and debris from the event which is now very interestingly displayed. The huge bronze seal of the building is displayed - the thing is enormous and the damage it bears demonstrates the power of the blast.The most fascinating thing for me was the recorded interview of some of the survivors; which I think were done several years after the bombing. Ernestine Clark, a librarian at the Journal Record building, gave a long and detailed interview of her experience. She was in shock but did not realize it and spent many hours looking for coworkers and seeking help for those injured. Her intelligent, unemotional and very self-observed remarks of the chaos of the event are some of the most darkly humorous yet chilling things I've ever heard:
* Outside her own building, trying to flag down help: "...the typical kind of logic a person in shock uses, I thought, they [ambulance] can't come here because this is a one-way street."
* On hearing that there was a triage unit set up: "...it seemed[triage] a very dramatic word for anything having to do with Oklahoma City."
* On reflecting on her experience: "But I can tell you a librarian...no matter what,... is not prepared for a bombing or running from the threat of certain death."
We left Oklahoma City reluctantly but had to press on. Here we come to the "lesson" of the road trip: expectations can be horribly wrong so unless you have factual data - keep an open mind (and tummy). Case in point: Fort Smith Arkansas. I never, ever thought I'd ever be in Ft. Smith, so I approached the prospect of overnighting there with real trepidation. What a surprise! This is a jewel of a town: historic, preserved, artsy yet still authentic to Bubba culture (Clinton's home state). I did not take any pictures on the perfect evening we rolled into town but we did find our way to a great restaurant: Doe's Eat Place!
http://www.doeseatplace.com/our_history.htm
Made famous in "Primary Colors" this is a fantastic (if supersized) steak place set in a lovely old stone building. MM and I were reposing on its back porch, a soft breeze (replacing the screedy wind of the west); robins chirping in one ear, good ol' boys jammin' in the other (playing a wide and well executed variety of tunes). We ordered our steak and what did they drop on the table first (which they don't even discuss on their website) but these "drop" biscuits with butter and honey. Dessert first! Yeah!
What they don't tell you about drop biscuits is that they've been baked and then dropped into a deep fat fryer - OMG! These are some of the best things you'll ever put in your mouth! They make regular donuts look like the sickly sweet wannabes that they are and of course they bring like 6 of 'em for two people.
Have I told you I'm starting to like the South?
All for now (so much for finishing). As Ernest says: the sun also rises.
20 May 2008
Blahg #4: It's a beautiful day on the road today...
When we woke up in Needles it was a classic blue hot desert day with a strong wind to cool off
the 75+ degree temperature on our skins. Today in Albikirky it's cold! 50's overcast with a persistent, chill wind. And I feel like my sinuses are full of dirt! What a strange place New Mexico is: alternately blocks, miles, moments of dog-eared sad and wealthy new age. The drive to our next sleeping spot (Amarillo) is a short 500 miles so we bee line into Santa Fe for a nice lunch and some shmieing around. We check out the Plaza and head into the main Albuquerque art museum, surrounded by these brass plates honoring the founding fathers.
After an hour of eye-popping window shopping at Glorianna's, the BEST bead/loose gem shop I've ever been in, we have a restorative lunch at SantaCafe (10 years plus and still delish) and then head out on some two laner to reconnect with 40E.
Here's what I love about NM: It's beautiful. It's SCALE is beautiful. It's untiring wind pushing the puffy cotton clouds is beautiful. It's miles of blue skies are beautiful. It's weather - which you can always see coming - is beautiful. Even the construction in Santa Fe is beautiful:
So we light out of Santa Fe and, lulled by the expiring miles, I keep missing all these great road signs: Endee, Rodeopia, Wildorado (home of The Original Pie Place). And the best (all on one sign): Cuervo, Tucumcari, Amarillo.
We cross into Texas and it almost immediately gets lusher, more populated and agricultural. That's when it hits me: NM is so poor partly because there doesn't seem to be much agriculture (at least in the I40 corridor we just traversed - but I've not hear that Alamogordo and other parts south are big ag either - unless you count UFOs and mushroom clouds as USDA approved products).
Amarillo was the one place I decided to get cute re: our accommodations on this trip and booked the only 5 star hotel (with respect to amenities) about 20 miles south of Amarillo in a fetchingly named place called Palo Duro Canyon. Actually the hotel was not in the canyon per se but in Palo Duro the little town on the other side of the highway from the canyon. (<- See over there?) Anyway we check in - it's very nice, new, clean, etc. - and learn that UT has a campus here in Palo Duro - college towns usually mean good, cheap food so we're psyched. We head over to Fred's Wrong Way Diner for "the best burgers ever" and are greeted by our young waitron with a "can I get y'all ladies a Coke, milk, or water?" Alarm bells!!! "Uh, 'scuse me miss. Is this county dry?", I ask. She hides her overt judgement of our incredible lameness and smiles: "Welcome tot eh 1920's". And of course - it's just the county where Palo Duro is - Amarillo is not dry! So much for cuteness... We experienced another "just how big this country is" moment in Palo Duro: when we first pulled up to the side entrance of our hotel (close to our room) there was also a big black pick-up truck parked there. A man was walking a beautiful black lab outside the truck. The dog was still a big puppy. We got into our room, freshened up and then as we were exiting to eat our burgers and drink our non-alcohol we saw they were still out there and the man seemed to be trying to tie the dog up to the light pole illuminating that part of the parking area. We had heard the dog barking while we were in our room too. Over dinner we worried that the man might try to leave the dog out all night. We thought this incredibly stupid and cruel. When we returned they were still out there and now there was a woman in the truck. My friend Margaret was getting very concerned now for the dog and I was also worried about barking. We discussed various strategies and she decided to head out there and as she did she ran right into the man. They chatted briefly - she had obviously come out there to check on him/the dog - and she was relieved in that it seemed he would be bringing the dog into their room for the night. Just the idea of leaving an animal like that outside all night - a strange place where it could easily be harmed or stolen - really made me think about how different and yet similar we all are: we're the same in the challenges, problems and desires we all have. We seem to differ mostly in our methods of addressing these situations and desires. Or maybe not. Maybe we are all different in what we want, what we need. Particulars are more important I think than many people think - especially when it comes to those with decision making authority for others. And 300 million people spread out over 3,794,066 square miles is a lot of particulars.
the 75+ degree temperature on our skins. Today in Albikirky it's cold! 50's overcast with a persistent, chill wind. And I feel like my sinuses are full of dirt! What a strange place New Mexico is: alternately blocks, miles, moments of dog-eared sad and wealthy new age. The drive to our next sleeping spot (Amarillo) is a short 500 miles so we bee line into Santa Fe for a nice lunch and some shmieing around. We check out the Plaza and head into the main Albuquerque art museum, surrounded by these brass plates honoring the founding fathers.After an hour of eye-popping window shopping at Glorianna's, the BEST bead/loose gem shop I've ever been in, we have a restorative lunch at SantaCafe (10 years plus and still delish) and then head out on some two laner to reconnect with 40E.
Here's what I love about NM: It's beautiful. It's SCALE is beautiful. It's untiring wind pushing the puffy cotton clouds is beautiful. It's miles of blue skies are beautiful. It's weather - which you can always see coming - is beautiful. Even the construction in Santa Fe is beautiful:
So we light out of Santa Fe and, lulled by the expiring miles, I keep missing all these great road signs: Endee, Rodeopia, Wildorado (home of The Original Pie Place). And the best (all on one sign): Cuervo, Tucumcari, Amarillo.We cross into Texas and it almost immediately gets lusher, more populated and agricultural. That's when it hits me: NM is so poor partly because there doesn't seem to be much agriculture (at least in the I40 corridor we just traversed - but I've not hear that Alamogordo and other parts south are big ag either - unless you count UFOs and mushroom clouds as USDA approved products).
Amarillo was the one place I decided to get cute re: our accommodations on this trip and booked the only 5 star hotel (with respect to amenities) about 20 miles south of Amarillo in a fetchingly named place called Palo Duro Canyon. Actually the hotel was not in the canyon per se but in Palo Duro the little town on the other side of the highway from the canyon. (<- See over there?) Anyway we check in - it's very nice, new, clean, etc. - and learn that UT has a campus here in Palo Duro - college towns usually mean good, cheap food so we're psyched. We head over to Fred's Wrong Way Diner for "the best burgers ever" and are greeted by our young waitron with a "can I get y'all ladies a Coke, milk, or water?" Alarm bells!!! "Uh, 'scuse me miss. Is this county dry?", I ask. She hides her overt judgement of our incredible lameness and smiles: "Welcome tot eh 1920's". And of course - it's just the county where Palo Duro is - Amarillo is not dry! So much for cuteness... We experienced another "just how big this country is" moment in Palo Duro: when we first pulled up to the side entrance of our hotel (close to our room) there was also a big black pick-up truck parked there. A man was walking a beautiful black lab outside the truck. The dog was still a big puppy. We got into our room, freshened up and then as we were exiting to eat our burgers and drink our non-alcohol we saw they were still out there and the man seemed to be trying to tie the dog up to the light pole illuminating that part of the parking area. We had heard the dog barking while we were in our room too. Over dinner we worried that the man might try to leave the dog out all night. We thought this incredibly stupid and cruel. When we returned they were still out there and now there was a woman in the truck. My friend Margaret was getting very concerned now for the dog and I was also worried about barking. We discussed various strategies and she decided to head out there and as she did she ran right into the man. They chatted briefly - she had obviously come out there to check on him/the dog - and she was relieved in that it seemed he would be bringing the dog into their room for the night. Just the idea of leaving an animal like that outside all night - a strange place where it could easily be harmed or stolen - really made me think about how different and yet similar we all are: we're the same in the challenges, problems and desires we all have. We seem to differ mostly in our methods of addressing these situations and desires. Or maybe not. Maybe we are all different in what we want, what we need. Particulars are more important I think than many people think - especially when it comes to those with decision making authority for others. And 300 million people spread out over 3,794,066 square miles is a lot of particulars.
18 May 2008
Blahg #3; Day Too Roadtrip
The next day we cross AZ thru this amazing wind – big warnings on the roadside and HUGE clouds of pink dust pittering the car ALL DAY – at one point we were in a literal fog of pink dust which we could see from a distance and just had to drive through. This photo ->
doesn’t really do it justice. It was a true sand storm.
We finally stopped in Winslow.
The Winslow of “well I was standing on the corner of Winslow Arizona…” It was blowinlikehell!
When we finally pulled into Albuquerque that night, before we went to dinner we washed our faces: it looked like thick pink pancake make-up on our white washcloths!
16 May 2008
Blahg #2: Roadtrip – Day Won…
As you cruise along I-5 at whatever speed limit multiple your vehicle allows (the hottie can go pretty fast) when you come up over a rise in the land it’s Ka-Bang! You see this huge blue strip of water and think “is that REAL?” This was not the age of the micro-chip.
and all these cute baby Joshua trees right by the road.
By now we were sick from the crappy fast food Mex we’d chowed but the sounds of Cold Blood from twenty years ago and more current Boz Scaggs soothe us a little 
The bug smears show that we’ve been on the road for awhile now. We’re just trying to make it to Needles for the night. As we come into the border area I realize we’re basically paralleling Route 66 – the first interstate to cross the 
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