Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Gas Stations

I used to pull into a gas station; and a guy, in response to the ding-ding of rolling over the rubber hose dinger thing, came out of the building with the car repair bays and said he could "Fill 'er up." There are still a couple places like that around here. And it is sometimes cool to drive out of the way to enjoy the service that was ripped from service stations.

Now, it seems, nearly all gas stations are self-serve. The pumps now take my debit card for payment; so, I get out of the car, pop open the gas tank cover with the little lever by the driver's seat, put the card into the reader, remove card quickly, as commanded by the little screen, push the proper button for 87 octane, remove the gas cap, unhitch the nozzle, put the nozzle in the car filler tube, and start pumping gas.

When finished pumping, after returning the nozzle to the pump's cradle, the little screen asks, "Want a receipt?" to which, I answer by pressing the "Yes" button.

The little screen tells me: See attendant for receipt.

I paid at the pump because I didn't want to interact with people, hold the door for someone, respond, "You're welcome," tell the person behind the glass or the counter which pump, reply "No" to the person when asked if I want anything else.

That is something I don't want to endure. I'm more content pumping my gasoline in solitude, wondering if my cell phone will ring and blow me up, making the MSNBC Weird News page.

So, "See attendant for receipt" fucks with my head; and I ask if it really is rocket science to change the little roll of thermal-sensitive paper on which receipts are printed. Maybe so -- it is thermal-sensitive paper, after all. Is there an all-day training seminar: "Re-stocking Receipt Rolls: Attendant's Nightmare?"

I refuse to see the attendant for my receipt. I didn't bargain for that. I chose to pay at the pump. The oil company executives have no fear that the attendant will abscond with my cash. The gas station gets a huge benefit. But if I don't "See attendant for receipt," the evil oil company will change the amount of my purchase, increasing it, usually by $6.66 -- you know how those evil oil companies do things. Why do you think the evil oil companies have made so much in profits? The increased prices? Sure, the profits go up a little. But that's only a small part of the story. Next time you get that message "See attendant for receipt," write down the date, time, gas station identifiers, and the charge on your card. Then, when your account statement arrives, check it out.

You'll see. You'll see.

China Syndrome

Do you realize that former Texas Senator Phil Gramm, the architect of the de-regulated banking/stock/investment/fuck-the-middle-class system we had before the weekend, who is laying very low these days (You notice that he has not consented to any interviews about this financial debacle), is being considered for the position of Secretary of the Treasury should McCain/Palin be elected?

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute -- Phil Gramm in charge of what's left of the $750,000,000,000 bail-out money?

YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!

Surreal, no?

And hey, what about that Supreme Court? McCain wants to continue the trend started by Bush. It will not be "More of the Same," it will be much worse.

Kiss good-bye some personal freedoms that you have enjoyed for several generations, and some since the Constitution was adopted. You think it won't happen? Get your head out of the sand.

But for some reason, that isn't important to a lot of people -- John McCain, friend of the common people, being the foremost.

Surreal? NO! Insanity.

And a lot of you want John McCain to be THE MAN. You have to be kidding me. THE MAN.

John McCain assured us the economy is "fundamentally sound." Three days later, he announced that the financial markets had turned into a "casino." Who the hell is advising him? Phil Gramm.

We all know, in Casino parlance: THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS. Mr. McCain, who is "the house?"

The house is CHINA, with whom this country has been running a tab. A tab to finance the war in Iraq.

And where are we going to get the $750,000,000,000? From Iraq, which McCain said would pay for the war
and the re-building there from oil sales? Or from the house, once again? FROM CHINA?

Geez, the oil companies, big supporters of McCain, have been making tens of billions of dollars a quarter over the past several years; maybe, they can float the USA a loan.

By the way, there has been a recall of the following products. I haven't seen them in my economically-devastated part of the country, but maybe you have seen them on the store shelves in your part of the world:
* Mr. Brown Mandheling Blend Instant Coffee (3-in-1)
* Mr. Brown Arabica Instant Coffee (3-in-1)
* Mr. Brown Blue Mountain Blend Instant Coffee (3-in-1)
* Mr. Brown Caramel Macchiato Instant Coffee (3-in-1)
* Mr. Brown French Vanilla Instant Coffee (3-in-1)
* Mr. Brown Mandheling Blend Instant Coffee (2-in-1)
* Mr. Brown Milk Tea (3-in-1)
and White Rabbit Creamy Candy.

The products were made with Chinese powdered milk containing melamine, which is used in floor tiles, kitchenware, fire retardant fabrics, and commercial filters, among other things. Melamine releases ammonia during the digestive process, which is probably what has sickened and killed babies people, and pets.

Cadbury's just announced this morning that it is withdrawing its chocolate products that were made in Beijing from the market, even though tests show no presence of melamine. Well, after some thought, the Cadbury people thought it would be better to be sure about the negative test results and not risk killing someone.

Nestle has a large chocolate-making operation in Beijing, but is, apparently, confident, at this time, that its food products are safe.

Mathematics!

You all know about
Most of you are familiar with prime
Some of you remember being taught about prime
One or two of you play around with
All of you should be familiar with prime numbers -- you remember, numbers that are divisible only by 1 and themselves, such as 2 and 3 and 5 (come on, you know it's back there somewhere in that mass of goop called your brain, at least, maybe the part that hasn't been cooked by cell phone microwaves) and 11, too.

Anyway, some mathematicians are into prime numbers. At UCLA, Edson Smith (yes, that's his actual name -- he's a fucking math geek, people!), leader of a pack of math geeks, has discovered that largest prime number yet. The number is almost 13 million digits long. If you multiply 2 (you know, 2x2 = 4, 4x2 = 8, etc.) 43,112,609 times and then subtract 1 from that number, you have the answer.

It'll take a while; so, set aside a few centuries.

They are hard at work, looking for the next one.

Bail Out

It's my understanding that when George W. Bush woke up and was told by one of his aides that he needed to have at least $700 billion for a bail out, he said, "Damn, that's a lot of money for bail! What the fuck are the charges? More than a fucking DUI, that's for sure! Heh-heh."

Lipstick on a Pig

I did not watch President Bush's speech on the economy.

Why not?

His lips were moving.

Now, as for Hank Paulson, Secretary of Treasury, I have a hard time accepting what he says because his latest stint from 1999 to 2006, was as Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of Goldman Sachs, one of the firms that will likely get a little help from its friend, if he is given the authority. Hmmmm -- 1999 to 2006. That would be the time when all this flim-flam was being foisted upon the American populace.

I have yet to hear about how this bail-out is going to help the regular people. The doomsayers say: "Depression!" The doomsayers say: "12% unemployment by Monday!"

Gee, could some of the $700,000,000,000 be used to put the unemployed back to work? Public works programs featuring infrastructure repairs that put people back to work? There's a temp agency across the street (two doors down from Adult Mart, for all who care to know). More and more people wanting work have gathered there over the last three years -- yeah, they want to work, and show up at about 5:30 in the morning to register on a first-come, first-served basis.

I'm no financial genius like Henry Paulson, who ran one of those investment firms that are close to the action and close to the edge of disaster. I'm just a regular guy looking around at regular people losing their jobs, losing their homes, and looking at those who have caused all this chaos, pain, and suffering because of greed now wanting hand-outs to the tune of $700 billion. Why don't these companies go after the executives who guided these firms into such financial ruin to return the tens of millions of dollars in bonuses, pay, and other remuneration they received each year -- you know, CEO's just like Henry Paulson.

I'd rather Pat Paulsen be put in charge.

Perhaps, we need to turn to witchcraft.

The Phone Book

Early Saturday morning, when I left the loft with the dogs, I couldn't help but notice that someone had lost a telephone book. It looked like it had been thrown down just to the right of the door, splayed open, covers torn. It was a fairly new phone book -- they had been delivered a couple weeks ago.

Telephone books are throw-backs to the day when there was only one phone company, land lines in every home, and no internet. Governments should assess some kind of tax on the companies that publish them for wasting resources. How many people throw them out? Landfills are probably filled with them.

The phone book has been there ever since.

I apologize. I caved in. I decided to pick it up and give it to one of the maintenance guys in the building.

But then I noticed something.

This was a sign. A warning!

The torn covers, front and back, both visible, were full-page ads for law firms. Someone doesn't like lawyers. Someone doesn't like me!

The person who did this obviously thinks I complained about the party Friday night or Saturday morning spilling out into the hallway way after midnight, prompting security to come up and kick some ass.

It's like the horse's head in The Godfather.

Fuckers.

$700 Billion?

Section 8 of the proposed rich-guy-bail-out bill says, "Decisions by the Secretary [of the Treasury] pursuant to the authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any administrative agency."

Hold on there, pardner!

Bush wants his political appointee to have unfettered access to $700 billion without any accountability whatsoever. The Secretary of the Treasury need only submit reports every six months -- his first report is due three months after he gets this authority and begins doling out our cash for mortgage-related assets.

This is outrageous! I'm hesitant in shelling out this money to prop up companies that have paid executives millions and millions in bonuses, severance packages, and other amenities to take advantage of the American people, to the detriment of the stockholders, many of which are pension funds and other assets of hard-working people.

Tell your Congressional delegation how you feel about giving George Bush $700,000,000,000 without any oversight. E-mail your Congress people by clicking this link.

Morton's

I've never been to Morton's.

This advertisement was on the front desk in the lobby.

I'm taking only one of the dogs. That is a dog bone with "Morton's" printed on it. I don't want to corrupt Bella; so, it's between Scout and Sheba.

Constitution Day

Today is Constitution Day.

The Constitution has been through a lot these past 7 1/2 years. Bush the Lesser has stated to aides that it's just an old piece of paper -- and he has treated it like an old piece of paper instead of the framework for our country and society.

At the court house, a lawyer mentioned to me that it was Constitution Day and that she was going to speak at a school.

"That's nice," I said. She's on the other side in a case, and I was being civil. "Are you going to talk about anything specific?" I asked.

She said that she wasn't supposed to talk about anything that might be politically inflammatory.

"Doesn't leave too much to talk about," I said. "Ask them if they think that it would be a good idea if the president should be an expert on the Constitution. That's a neutral question."

She had a blank look. "Then when they say, 'Yes!," you could point out that one of the candidates for president taught Constitutional law at the prestigious University of Chicago law school."

That would be Obama.

Order in the Court

Contrary to popular belief, I do work.

Sometimes.

For instance, last night, we went to a movie. Body of War documents the struggle of Tomas Young, who joined the Army on September 13, 2001, to fight the evil-doers behind the September 11, 2001 killing of almost 3,000 on our soil, to regain meaning in his life after being wounded in Iraq. Soon after he enlisted, he thought he would be going to Afghanistan, anticipating looking for and finding bin Laden and those responsible; but he ended up in Iraq.

On his fifth day in country, without having fired a round, he was shot just below the level of his collarbone, severing his spinal cord, leaving him paralyzed below his armpits.

Most telling about U.S. policy toward Tomas Young was his meeting with a Vietnam vet with an almost identical wound, who asked Tomas how long he had been hospitalized, to which Tomas stated he had been in Walter Reed Army Hospital 2 1/2 months and then several months in a rehab facility. The Vietnam vet told Tomas he had been "short shrifted" and that the vet had been hospitalized for a year with a year in rehab.

There are thousands more like Tomas Young, who are given short shrift by the government, even though they have sacrificed their bodies and souls at the order of the Commander-in-Chief. The devastation of not only young people's bodies, but their families, and the psyches of each, is unseen by the American public. It's a dirty secret kept by the government -- with the complicity of the mass media.

If you have the opportunity to see the movie, you must do so. Florida Senator Bob Graham, when he saw the movie, said that it should be required viewing for everyone over 18 and should be required viewing on every college campus in the country.

It was disturbing. It was eye-opening. It was moving.

After that heart-wrenching evening, I had to be in court today. The courtroom was quite small with only three rows of seats for spectators and for the participants waiting for their cases to be called. Outside the door, across the narrow hallway, is another courtroom. the proceedings had not started; the door was open.

I had seen the 18-ish-looking kid with the long white t-shirt and sagging designer three-quarter cut jeans just outside of the security checkpoint. His head had a short stubble, which may have been blonde before the scalping. He spent far too much time in the morning shaving so as to leave a 1/4-inch wide attempt-at-a-beard that framed the lower part of his pale face.

He announced to the young lady and younger man, who had apparently accompanied him, that: "Sometimes they switch up courtrooms on me. They do that from time to time."

It was, therefore, not his first time in this particular court house. And it was highly unlikely that this was only his second visit. He was overly familiar with the surroundings and the court house procedures for someone so young.

But he still had not learned how to dress for maximum benefit.

Why Impeachment Is Important

Why is the current investigation of Sarah Palin important? Why should the press delve into McCain's role in the Keating Scandal?

When we neither punish nor reproach evildoers, we are not simply protecting their trivial old age, we are thereby ripping the foundations of justice from beneath new generations …. Young people are acquiring the conviction that foul deeds are never punished on earth, that they always bring prosperity. -- Alexander Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago, 1973.

CAFFEINE THERAPY

ok. i feel better. no more ranting. at least for a couple days.

here's the project that i just finished up.

they're ceramic cups with silicone lids! we bought one at a cool little store on clement in san francisco and ordered a few more on-line when we got home. as if that isn't cool enough, i printed up some rub-on decals with our own little logo and "stuff." i love the way they turned out. i think i must have been a graphic artist in another life (not because i'm necessarily talented -- it's just that i love fooling around with this stuff).

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

i've long held the belief (quietly, for the most part) that there's a certain percentage of republicans for whom their values represent a personality disorder. i know that i'm getting old and crusty; but i'm starting to believe that anybody -- ANYBODY -- who votes for mccain/palin has at LEAST three or four screws loose. i mean it.

if you care about protecting your money (inheritance tax question, privatizing social security, increases in taxes) more than you do about your children/grandchildren/ANYbody's childrens' LIVES (the war in iraq, threatened invasions of several other countries, health care, the fucking EARTH, even), then you're a sick fucker. and you'll vote for mccain. i won't/can't excuse your ignorance.

simply put: money over people = mental illness.

there has always been a certain element of this ethos in the republican party. but there were also some real philosophically valid positions. remember fiscal responsibility? notice mccain/palin haven't even brought that up. palin probably thinks it means something about birth control. and god knows, she must be opposed to that.

did anybody see/hear/read about palin's interview with charlie gibson? is she freaking kidding me that she STILL believes iraq was behind 9/11???? do YOU still believe that? do you read the freaking newspaper? ever? has she? or anybody who's on her staff?

get your heads out of your asses, people! and i'm talking to ANYBODY (i spoke to another person this morning who said she might not even vote at all cuz she's annoyed) who is pissed about hillary not getting the nomination for pres or v. p. (going with mc/p -- are you freaking kidding me? what?)/unhappy about obama's dumbing down (join the club)/disgusted with politics in general and voting to make a statement or not voting at all.

if you allow mc/p to take this election by turning off your brain or because you're annoyed, you are asking for a whole fucking shitload of trouble that we may NEVER be able to dig ourselves out of (of which we may never ... never mind). but you might have your money. it will be pretty much worthless, but you'll have it. bush/cheney are freaking GENIUSES compared to these two clowns.

Books

I visited the bookstore a few weeks back -- before we left for San Francisco -- for some reading material. It's a long plane ride there and back -- plus a two-and-a-half hour layover in Las Vegas on the way there and a three hour layover in Midway (Chicago, not Hawaii) on the way back.

I thought long and hard about what I should bring with me. Fluff fiction for the plane ride isn't a good idea because one never knows who might plop down in the empty seat on the right or left (the composer John Williams, for instance).

I decided to do a little research, considering I was going to California -- not that California's people aren't a friendly sort, they are usually stranger than fiction, from everything I've heard.

I visited Barnes & Noble and had a hard time locating the tome I wanted for the trip; so I stopped a bookish-looking man with a nameplate on his breast pocket, and I asked him, "I'm wondering where I can find The Zombie Survival Guide?

He looked me down, then up, then said, apparently satisfied that I was not undead, "That's in Humor."

I looked to my left because I thought I noticed some movement, then looked back at Kraig K., according to his nameplate (probably had a brother Kristopher and a sister Karoline, and I wonder if they wore glasses, too), and intoned, "I don't see what's funny about it."

And then he replied, obviously knowing that I was serious, "You're right. That title is in the special zombie end-cap at the end of that row."

Read the synopsis if you don't believe me!

Synopsis

The Zombie Survival Guide is your key to survival against the hordes of undead who may be stalking you right now. Fully illustrated and exhaustively comprehensive, this book covers everything you need to know, including how to understand zombie physiology and behavior, the most effective defense tactics and weaponry, ways to outfit your home for a long siege, and how to survive and adapt in any territory or terrain.

* * * (This is the punctuation lawyers use when they don't want the judge to know the stuff in between the first part of the quoted material and the stuff that follows the asterisks because it is usually not helpful to their case and most likely highly damaging, but they have forgotten that judges are also lawyers and know that old lawyer trick.)

Don’t be carefree and foolish with your most precious asset—life. This book is your key to survival against the hordes of undead who may be stalking you right now without your even knowing it. The Zombie Survival Guide offers complete protection through trusted, proven tips for safeguarding yourself and your loved ones against the living dead. It is a book that can save your life.

See? Life-saving.

Well, anyway, we (you know, over there, the woman on the right side of the screen, looking out, that is -- on your left -- amazing how it all depends on one's point of view) flew on Southwest Airlines; and being totally inexperienced party plane people, we were in the "C" group -- C 60 was printed on my boarding pass, actually -- so, we boarded in the last group called -- I think she said something about "suckers," but I'm not really sure because of all the shouting and singing. The party attendant started to close the booby hatch as I, the last passenger, was boarding the plane; so, I got that middle seat, in no man's land, the part of the plane that usually cracks open, spilling all the passengers out into the cornfield, between the extreme-super-unlimited-heavyweight body builder with the yellowish tank top over a 68-inch bumpy chest and glistening arms that violate obscenity laws in some jurisdictions, Cincinnati, for sure, blocking the window, and the 60-something upswept, black-haired woman with the overly plumpified lips, stretch-Lycra-tight skin, and low-cut, glittery t-shirt exhibiting her polished-granite breasts sitting in the aisle seat.

He, monolithic man, quickly fell asleep, leaning -- well, it couldn't really be categorized as leaning against the window because I was unwillingly leaning toward the aisle and the nice lady in the aisle seat. She was asking me where I was staying in Vegas, and how I needed to go to the Bellagio, and I don't want to recall anything else -- and then she was going to reach up and turn on the air nozzle, but stopped because -- well, because I didn't let her because she was too close to me, what with the Incredible Hulk's younger white brother using up most of the middle row with one of his huge fucking forearms. And she said thanks, then she started to reach up to push the button for the light. What, she couldn't ask me to turn on her light, and why did she need the light on? After all, I turned on the air nozzle, and she had nothing in her hands she needed any light to see. I reached up and turned on her light switch, just to avoid problems.

And she said, "Oh, my own personal valet," in a sickeningly sweet, but cigarette-affected, modulated voice, made several notes higher because of the valium she took before boarding. I was guessing that she anticipated some witty reply.

I reached down; and from the outside pocket of my messenger bag, I pulled out The Zombie Survival Guide and said, "Research."

She was quiet the rest of the flight.

See?

IDIOCRACY

i sent an email to a couple people yesterday with a link to a website showcasing mccain videos. of COURSE, the videos showcased mccain contradictions. i received an email back from a relative to whom it was re-forwarded with this:

Thanks for the mail.

Vote McCain/Palin 2008 or habla espanol
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h9SeQ7vbYQU

i clicked on the link -- go ahead. do it.

i love (that's heavy, HEAVY sarcasm) the way people freak out about this stuff. i'm not talking about the veiled racist point of view. i'm going somewhere else here, folks. stay with me.

i LOVE the way americans pretend to be soooo attached to the english language while the majority of americans can't write their way out of a wet paper bag. just put together one freaking sentence, folks. most of you know i'm not talking to you. but i do believe it is a heavy majority of americans who could not write one sentence that's grammatically correct. and i'm not just talking about high school grads.

and let's not get into the argument about "literary license." i'm not talking creative writing, folks. some of us know the difference and can tolerate and even appreciate that. i'm talking ignorance here.

stupidity is when you can't get it. ignorance is when you don't WANT to get it. and, yes, i believe that a huge percentage of americans are ignorant. call me arrogant. as i told you before -- what. ever.

we ALL were taught (oops. i almost said that we all learned. wishful thinking) at least a certain amount of grammar. i would hope that college grads, especially "english" majors, were taught even more (however, there is NO evidence to support that; i'm just sayin'). the problem is that there seems to be no value to holding onto those lessons for many americans. how could there be?

we've all seen the bumper stickers "my kid beat up your honor student" as if that trumps the "my kid is an honor student at..." bumper sticker. sadly, it DOES to many americans. sadly, it does.

if it's too hard to teach your kid to strive for any kind of excellence (any kind at all), just redefine success as raising the best and biggest thug. much easier. and becoming easier all the time.

this mediocrity (heh) is so ingrained in our culture now that foreigners who learn english overseas value the proper use of our language more than we do. americans are just the big, DUMB bullies on the block now.

it's gonna kick our ass, people. and it's gonna hurt. bad.

heaven forbid we elect a smart president. who the hell does he think he is -- thinking he's a smart guy (i'm not talking mccain here, folks. even he makes no bones about his less-than-stellar intellectual capacity)? americans are much more comfortable with putting someone who is PERCEIVED as a regular, AVERAGE guy into the highest office in our country. we don't even care if that's true (how many of us own 7 houses?) this is not your buddy down the street, people (in spite of the way a republican pundit on cnn characterized him -- "a regular guy you can have a beer with married to a hot chick"). the republicans hope you buy into this and support the rich, fat, white man agenda. and americans do! we BELIEVE this shit and hand the whole ball of wax to the rich guys. this is what got us into the mess we're in right now. george bush -- good, old guy.

you're worried about jobs? elect the guy who says we're a bunch of whiners and that the economy is not so bad.

the war? do i even have to say anything here?

gas prices? go ahead. elect the guy who wants to allow gas companies to drill, drill, drill. if you're slow, i'll say it again. we won't be able to harvest one fucking drop of oil from any new rigs for ten to fifteen years. do you think the oil companies are going to lower gas prices as a thank you right now? for the promise of adding MAYBE 2 percent more oil to the world's oil reserves? in ten to fifteen more years? all the while NOT investing time and money into alternative sources of energy. good idea. go ahead. line the pockets of the oil company shareholders. do you have children? do you hope they'll be able to have children? do you care about what kind of earth you'll be handing down to them? if you did, you wouldn't vote for the village idiot, mccain.

you want your religious agenda pushed? obviously, mccain is your man, you fucking asshole.

that it might not be a bad idea or even kind of enriching (oh. my. god. sorry. lost my head there.) for our kids to learn another language? i guess i'm really old -- that used to be called education; and, i forgot, we're not really not so much into that here in the old u.s. of a.

from where i'm sitting, i can see a whole, different (and, i'm sure, unintended) meaning to the song lyrics, "hope i die before i get old." i hope these ideas are reigned in somehow, some way, SOON.

i don't know about you; but i sure as hell don't mind (and would even kind of like it) if my doctor, kid's/grandkid's teachers and professors, future engineers, future physicists, military leaders, and PRESIDENT are regular people, but i sure as HELL don't want them to be average.

note: don't even TRY to point out grammatical flaws. or the literary "license" i've taken in some of my sentences. if you don't get that, it says way more about you than my writing. or the fact that i don't capitalize. i type one handed ("i can out-write you with one hand tied behind my back") because i type one handed. if you've been here before, you know why.

God's Will

"[O]ur national leaders are sending [soldiers to Iraq] on a task that is from God, that’s what we have to make sure we are praying for, that there is a plan, and that plan is God’s plan." Sarah Palin, 2008

"I say to you that God, who implanted this in your breasts, has drawn it forth from you. Let this then be your war-cry in combats, because this word is given to you by God. When an armed attack is made upon the enemy, let this one cry be raised by all the soldiers of God: It is the will of God! It is the will of God!" -- Pope Urban, Speech at the Council of Clermont, 1095, which led to The First Crusade, from the chronicler, Robert the Monk, who was a participant at the Council.

I am frightened by Sarah Palin. I am frightened by John McCain because he selected her.

It's also interesting that now it's known that Palin's daughter is preggers out of wedlock and that abstinence only didn't work (or this is the second immaculate conception, in which case the daughter should be v-p candidate, being more qualified because she has an actual pipeline to God), it's nobody's business. In fact, it's been characterized as a good thing by many a Republican partisan.

For the last 20 years or so, right-winger nut jobs, like Sarah Palin, have been trying to pry their way into everyone's private lives and regulate what happens in the bedroom. They are against birth control education in schools. They are against condoms being distributed to anyone. They are against homosexuality. They are against secularism in government. They are against secularism in schools.

Now, they say, after all this jibber-jabber for the last generation, let's leave family stuff out of this campaign. Let's not talk about Sarah Palin's daughter being pregnant out-of-wedlock. It's a normal, everyday thing. It could happen to anyone.

When the teen pregnancy rate in urban America was skyrocketing, were these God-fearing individuals like Sarah Palin trying to help? Or were they condemning the inner city youth, the inner city fatherless families, and working to cut off government benefits for sex education in school as well as any aid to the out-of-wedlock children of unemployed teenage girls?

Yeah, that's right. It could happen to anyone who doesn't practice abstinence and doesn't use birth control and who hangs out with the hockey team on cold, winter nights.

Newsweek has an interesting story about morality and the abuse of power.

Take a look at this.

Monty McCain's Flying Circus

More required reading: Ryan Lizza's article in The New Yorker.

And required viewing, if you are in the area: Sunday, September 14, 2008, at 7:00 p.m., at Cleveland Institute of Art Cinematheque, BODY OF WAR.

Richie Havens

Richie Havens.

He began with a story of Greenwich Village back in the day when he played 12, 14 sets a night and when musicians shared their works freely -- for free -- "Can you write that out for me?" "Sure."

So, he heard something he liked and asked the artist to write it down. The guy said, "Sure." The next day, Richie Havens asked the fellow if he had done it. "I'll get to it." On day three, the guy approached on the street, but before Richie Havens could say a word, the guy handed him a demo tape, "Here it is." "Thanks."

All Along the Watchtower. He ended the evening with You Are So Beautiful as an encore a capella. And in between was a combination of cuts from his new album, the old classics, and his interpretation of others' songs. It took a few moments for the audience to recognize CSNY's Woodstock, the 3 Days of Love & Music he opened with Handsome Johnny, which he didn't perform last night, and Motherless Child, which he did perform, sounding as vital and fresh as he did almost 40 years ago in the rain.

When I bought the tickets, I didn't realize that the concert was part of a benefit -- or that I was a V.I.P. -- I just wanted the front row seats for Jackal and me; we had V.I.P. tickets. Cool.

Jackal and I arrived at the theater early and discovered the standard dress for the charitable event, at least the "Meet & Greet" we were attending, was not the blue jeans and button-down collar, rolled-up-sleeves-showing-various-tattoos shirt we each wore. Who knew? Stuffed shirts, stiff upper lips, and all were present, eating finger foods and imbibing cocktails -- my, my, my. "You're outta your element, Donnie," Jackal whispered. Since when is laughing a big event? Apparently, here it was. Later, the cop on duty told me that someone asked if we were there to fix the plumbing upstairs.

Richie Havens was escorted into the Allen Theater rotunda from the hall that lead to the State Theater, where he'd be performing. Hell, nobody was talking to him; so, I waved -- more of a salute at belt level than a wave, and he saluted back; so, we sauntered over, introduced ourselves; and I chatted with him about how short a time we'd both been on the planet, music, his music, children as the planet's salvation, and he said that "These next few months -- it's going to be a much better country, a much better world." I wish I could be as certain, and I told him that, "We can't continue on this course."

"It will be better, Bill." We grasped hands and held on for a few moments, much longer than strangers do; he knowing and I hoping. Jackal said a few quiet words to him, to which I was not privy -- musicians' bond, perhaps. His host whisked Richie to the other side of the room to meet some suits and designer apparel, the donors that needed stroking.

Jackal wanted a smoke; I needed some fresh air. The cop came with us, "Too stiff in there," he said, light rain falling; but before we left, Jack said, "Wait," walked to where the receiving line had formed, put a hand on Richie Havens' shoulder, said "Excuse me" to the gentleman posing for a picture, and said, "Good luck, tonight. Thanks for coming back to Cleveland. I'm very happy to have met you."

And Richie said, smiling, "Thank you, Jackson."