Poetry Break: Goodbye Naughties

We've made it through

To the Other Side

No need to tremble, no need to Hide

We did our best (well, most of us)

We stood the test (uh, ditto)

But no time for rest ... just yet

The naughties are gone, the teens are here

They'll be a challenge too, I'll bet

(Hmm ... think I'll have a beer)

La Fin Du Monde if you please ...

Loose Ends

The New Year is nearly here. Time to make our annual task list of resolutions, of promises to ourselves to do some things better, smarter, or sooner than last year.

For some of us this means we resolve to actually DO these things, as opposed to shoving our list in a drawer, or burying it eight levels deep in computer folders. This Year, we tell ourselves, we will actually fulfill these promises. Really we will.

And for 2010, we all have a lot of work to do.

I plan to finally learn a few words of Spanish. Enough to make myself understood in the vast - and getting vaster - LA economy in which English is not the first language. Or at least enough to know when I'm being kidded (or warned).

I also plan to simplify. Cut loose the extra baggage I've been carting around for decades. Either that, or fulfill another long term goal of appearing on TV - only in an episode of 'Hoarders' rather than CSI.

But my real focus will be on loose ends. You know, those tasks we've left undone, some for so long we barely remember them, but which still cause waves of anxiety and regret when we do.

I figure if I tie up one loose end a month, that would just about do it. Or, if that's too much, I could do one a quarter and I'd be done in three years or so. I could live with that.

Of course, not all loose ends can be tied up neatly in a month, a quarter, or even a year. Some took years in the loosening and will require years to resolve. Unless I resolve to completely forget about them, that is. Which is certainly the easier approach, just ask the Republicans.

Which reminds me of who else needs to focus on loose ends in 2010. That's right, the government. Including the Republicans. Health Care, Energy, Global Warming, the Economy, the Middle East, North Korea, Iran, Al-Qaeda, our military adventures in Afghanistan and Iraq. Tax Reform. All very loose ends indeed.

So - at the conclusion of this last year of the first decade of the new millennium let's resolve - all of us, including our federal, state, and local representatives, to do the right thing and place a few loose ends on our lists of resolutions for 2010. Let's pledge to carry out some of the garbage we've accumulated from the past. Let's clear out the storage space. Let's fix those squeaking doors and beeping low-battery smoke alarms. Let's end those unending wars.

We will need a little intestinal fortitude and a little luck with this. But it's doable and I for one intend to give it a try. It would be embarrassing, after all, if my resolve (or our government's) to clear up loose ends became just another Loose End.

Good Luck and Happy New Year to Us All ...

La Fin Du Monde

J___ pulled back the curtains and gazed out the window of his 19th floor room onto the wintry streets of Montreal.

"Not the best weather for the job" he murmured. He was alone in the room.

Within an hour he was out and walking those streets, searching. Within two he had accomplished his goal, and was back at the hotel enjoying maple-drenched crepes, the chill ebbing, replaced by warmth and the satisfaction of his work.

He knew he would have to go out again. In this city he had been assigned six 'goals' and this morning's accomplishment marked completion of only the second. But it was enough for now. Enough to let him savor his crepes and an uncharacteristic beverage for so early in the day. A new favorite: La Fin Du Monde.

A fitting name, he thought, and smiled as he drank.

A New Christmas Mascot

Forget Reindeer. The most fitting animal totem for Christmas this year would be a sloth. A moss-covered, slow-moving, tree-hanging sloth.

At least that applies to me.

Perhaps the rest of you have celebrated fiercely, then after the briefest of recoveries you've planted that winter garden, renovated the kitchen, or solved the riddle of cold fusion. Big Deal, kudos to you and good luck with the Nobel. However, if any of you happen to have developed the means to remove 10 pounds of Christmas fat and reenergize nearly dead human tissue please contact me. I need your help.

Perhaps the source of my ennui can be found in the news.

After all, a moth-eaten version of Health Care Reform limped out of the Senate, with Republicans promising all-out war to prevent even its holed carcass from becoming law.

And somehow, even with all the TSA bureaucracy, rules, and regulations, some nut-case has managed to bring explosives onto a plane and tried to light them up. Pretty dire, but what does the government do? Figure out how the perp got the stuff on board and stop that gap? Nope - they make a rule preventing any passenger from getting up from their seat for ONE HOUR before landing. I am not sure what good that will do aside from forcing travelers with nervous bladders to line up at the lavatories 65 minutes prior to landing.

So maybe it's the news. Or maybe not. In any case, I can use some energy. So if you have the fat dissolving, tissue reanimating abilities noted above, or merely know how to turn a sloth into a winning greyhound without the use of whips or cattle prods, let me know.

Tis' The Season

Returning from wintry travels to warm(er) Los Angeles and basking in the presence of friends and family, I began to feel the first twinges of Holiday Cheer - a certain warmth peculiar to Christmas which lights us up like ornaments and fills us with goodwill to all.

It didn't last long.

It flickered out when I turned on the TV and looked for something seasonal to fit my mood. I checked out Showtime, since they often have something suitable - at least reruns of 'The Santa Clause', which is a guilty pleasure and cheesy fun. But no, all I found on the Showtime channel was a purported documentary narrated by Ben Stein called, 'Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed'.

The info-blurb for the flick stated it was all about how scientists who dared to write anything positive about intelligent design were kicked out of their jobs, denied tenure, or lost funding. Having once been almost-a-scientist myself, and believing in the free discourse of ideas no matter how crackpot, I thought 'hey, this could be interesting'.

But I was wrong. It wasn't long before the show devolved from a discussion of intellectual exclusion to an outright rant against 'Darwinism' complete with scenes of Stein staring down a marble statue of Darwin and footage of Nazi atrocities and Stalinist marches flitting across the screen.

Even after walking the snowy streets of Montreal - including the 'Rue Saint-Nicholas', I couldn't muster enough jolliness and joy to man a psychic defense against the brutality of that slash and burn 'journalism'. The images were blunt force trauma to my Christmas Spirit.

You see, to Stein (who co-wrote the film) presumably godless Darwinian 'survival of the fittest' doctrine led directly to the extermination of the Holocaust and the mass repression of millions in the following Cold War. Never mind that humans will find a way to do bad things no matter what they believe in - or don't. Stein ignored the Inquisition, the Crusades, and every Catholic Vs Protestant bloodbath for the past 500 years - not to mention the religious fundamentalist-terrorists who've been beheading and bombing about the Middle East (and New York).

In the film's end, Stein addresses an audience (kind of a bored-looking group, actually) about the evils of putting up intellectual walls - with the scene juxtaposed with shots of Ronald Reagan standing near the Berlin Wall and taking about that wall and what it meant. Heavy-handed and overwrought, yes, but the discussion of blocking inquiry and thought has its merits and was what the film should have been about all along. Too bad then, that Stein detoured into pure anti-evolution propaganda, and so nastily, with such flawed and selective logic it would make an excellent negative exhibit for any class on logic and rhetoric. Stein might have had something important to say, but lost his way as surely as that monotonic teacher he portrayed in 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off' ('Darwin? Darwin? ... Darwin?')

And back to my original peeve - it wasn't even seasonal! Unless you believe that knocking evolution is synonymous with promoting religion and therefore meets the criteria of celebrating the season. Well, it doesn't in my book, partner.

So excuse me, but I'm going back to the remote and searching for any version of 'A Christmas Carol' - God help me, I'll even take 'Santa Clause 3' ...

No Go Joe

I had planned this blog as a travel note about wintry, snowy Montreal, where I am currently ensconced. But, no. I heard about Joe Lieberman's about-face on early Medicare buy-in and I changed direction too.

I have begun to suspect that Joe is a double-agent of some sort. A not-so-deep mole for the Republicans. It's possible I am just being paranoid, but how else to explain his change of heart on a subject he lobbied FOR only a couple of short months ago. He actually proposed the early Medicare buy-in he just dashed against a brick wall. That's real statesmanship. Or early onset dementia. (Lucky he has a good health plan)

So now the die has been cast, the cat thrown amongst the pigeons, and (another) cat let out of the bag, can we uncast the die, rebag the cat, and save the pigeons? I don't believe so.

Any health 'reform' plan that mandates everyone have health care coverage, but denies millions the ability to actually afford that coverage, is not only next to useless, is not only useless, it's decidedly un-useful - damaging even.

Sorry to say it - because President Obama has worked hard to get us all some 'hope', through constructive 'change'. Too bad not all the kids want to play, some just threaten to take their toys and go home if they don't get their way.

So Senator Lieberman gets his way and health reform loses its way.

Let's hope the voters remember this next time he runs for anything.

And just tell him, 'No Go Joe!'

Onward The Soldiers

A few days ago, the friends and families of our men and women in the armed forces received the unwelcome news that some 30,000 of their loved ones will be sent into harm's way.

That's 30,000 more lives tossed into the deadly puzzle of Afghanistan. How many will make it home unscathed and how many will pay the ultimate price of war?

I am sure that question haunts the thoughts of President Obama and his advisors. And I am sure he considered the human costs when making his decision.

The situation he faces in the Middle East wasn't a problem of his making. He inherited it, and now has to manage it the best he can, using the soundest advice he can solicit.

But I am disappointed in the outcome. Like many other parents with children old enough to be sucked into this 'war', I am disheartened and frankly terrified by the news this mess will continue at least until 2011. More than enough time for unforeseen developments to swallow the 30,000 and beg for more, more , more.

Many of us remember the horror of Vietnam and what is was like to be young and vulnerable to being drawn into that mess. Some of us remember friends who served and never came back, physically or emotionally. Our soldiers now may be volunteers rather than draftees, but they are still young and vulnerable, and many of them will serve and not come back.

It is sad and sobering to consider we may have learned nothing, after all, from Vietnam, or from the eight long years already spent in the deserts and mountains of Afghanistan.

Black Friday

There's desperation out there, folks. In the lead-up to 'Black Friday' it seemed as if companies were going to just give stuff away.

That's my kind of sale. Especially when I need something 'essential', but ordinarily too expensive to seriously consider. When I hear phrases like '60% Off' on that sort of item, I pay attention, even if doing so denies my own revulsion over the reeking depths of crass consumerism.

So up and out I went on the Day After Thanksgiving. Not at the crack of dawn, but early enough when shaking off the 'Food Flu' and making decisions with money. Like a groggy Neandertal kicked out of his cave to hunt for his morning's Elk sausage, I was tired but primed for the kill.

Alas, the prey did not materialize. No sales worth repeating on any of the expensive but suddenly necessary items on my list. A measly 10% off was the best I could find.

Now, 10% is nothing to sniff at on any normal 'sale', especially for expensive purchases, but on Black Friday? You lure me out of a nurturing and much-needed sleep with promises of 60%, and I all I get is 10?

That's a Crime. Punishable by firmly sticking my wallet back in my pocket and resolving to keep it there except in direst necessity. Or 70% off, whichever comes first.

Poetry Break: Revenge of The Gobblers

On Thanksgiving we Eat Turkeys

By the Ton, I'll bet!

But those birds have a Plan

It's Revenge they're gonna Get ...

Eat Turkey with some stuffing

Eat Turkey with some beets

With mashed potatoes,

cranberries, and sundry other treats

Follow it with pies - In Pumpkin we Trust,

But also Apple, Cherry, Pecan,

Even Mincemeat, if you Must

Wash it down with Wine,

or Cider,

or Tea

Now you're the most stuffed you'll ever be!

Next comes the bloating, the belching up of Gas

Just before the commotion emitting from your Ass

Ah, the Turkey's have their comeback

They've taken their Revenge

But you'll forget it all,

In time for Next Thankgiving's Binge...

Motorcycles: Standards of Nakedness

Wander into any motorcycle-selling establishment during the past ten years (longer, really) and you would likely view a sea of plastic-wrapped machines, with engines mostly or entirely hidden. If you were to ask anyone at these locations what happened to 'standard' bikes, they'd likely point to a Honda VFR Interceptor or something similar and say 'there'. They would do so since the VFR is a bike designed to be both 'sporty' and 'racy', yet comfortable enough to commute and even travel on. An 'all-around', practical bike - hence 'standard' by the terms of the modern ('90s onward) motorcycle salesperson.

Problem is, the VFR engine has been entirely hidden by plastic 'fairings' since the mid-'80s. And for those of us who like the power plant clearly in view, the VFR just doesn't fulfill that important component of our definition of 'standard'.

When met with this resistance, plucky salesfolk might then steer you towards 'naked' bikes, where the engine is at least mostly on show. Better. What you might see would be 'retro' bikes, old designs hotted up a bit by newer technology (but far from cutting edge), or lately you might see 'streetfighters' - minimalist efforts to strip the fairings off sport bikes to show the engine and provide a slightly-less-than-torturous seat and controls arrangement for the rider. Also better, but neither option quite meets the standard of 'standard'. The 'retro' can't compete (on technical or 'ego' grounds) with the best of fully modern designs, and the streetfighters, improved ergonomics and naked viewing aside, are hardly practical devices. Travel far on one? No. Commute? Maybe, but the bike (and you) will complain all the way.

There have been some brave attempts at bridging this gap but most haven't sold well, for various reasons often accompanied by the words 'ugly' or 'dull'. A few have been successful, most of these in a newer category alternately called 'dual purpose' or 'adventure touring'. But these bikes, though mostly 'naked' and not noticeably 'retro', are anything but thrilling to gaze upon, and are often too tall for normal humans. They just don't quite fit the 'standard' bill.

So what should a 'standard' be? To be honest, I know more about what isn't a standard than what would make one today. But for me at least, I'd be looking for near cutting edge power and handling with comfort, practicality, and a good-looking, mechanically impressive engine on full display. If I can afford it, sit on it without a step stool, and carry a few things on it without resort to saddlebags, tank bags, or backpacks, I would be happy.

(For a few of today's bikes some consider 'standard' take a look at this web page at motorcyclist online. See if any meet your criteria...)

Happy Thanksgiving '2' You!

On the second Thanksgiving since starting this blog, I wish you good food, good friends, and a very good day. May it be spent with those you love and cherish. If not, then at least with those you can tolerate as long as they don't stay for the weekend.

If you think more needs to be said about this holiday, then check out last year's slightly more expansive comment. Enjoy the Day!

WAR Vs war

I don't know about you, but I've been bugged for about 8 years now by a misconception perpetuated by the press: it's that we are at WAR.

I know. I know. There's shooting and bombing and all sorts of warlike things happening, but is it a WAR? What is a WAR, anyway? If two groups face off and bombard each other with weaponry, is that enough to call it a WAR? (Or a healthcare reform town meeting?)

Actually, for fighting to become a WAR, I believe the Congress has to declare it one. And that's never happened. The sad vote to allow President Bush to use military action didn't quality as a declaration of WAR, and as far as I can tell no one has actually declared WAR on the US either.

Calling what's happening over in Iraq and Afghanistan not a WAR, must seem utterly nonsensical to those kids fighting and dying in those places. In the midst of combat there would be nothing to help you tell the difference. And it wouldn't really matter anyway - surviving would require the same actions, real WAR or not.

But back here in the US, it makes a difference, legally at least. George Bush knew it. That's why he ignored the Geneva conventions - only countries in a declared war are bound by them. The only problem was he forgot that it's either one or the other - declared WAR and be bound by the Geneva conventions, or undeclared war-like conflict and bound by our national (and some international) civil laws. You can't have it both ways, although Bush believed he could.

We started back in 2001 fighting against Al-Qaeda, a terroristic, extremist, fanatically religious group encompassing minions from several nations. Hard to declare WAR on that. Then we added the Taliban - a theocratic bunch of ruffians that ruled Afghanistan and harbored Al-Qaeda. Them we could declare WAR against, but didn't. Then came Iraq, ruled by a non-religious former ally who also happened to be a despot and once threatened George Bush the Elder's life. Another easy target for a declared WAR, but again we declined.

Even though WAR was not declared against Iraq or Afghanistan, the fighting there took on the traditional shape of WAR, but legally wasn't. Which lead to all sorts of confusion within the Bush administration and plenty of questionable decisions. Fighting Al Qaeda, was not a WAR and not traditional in any sense. Which is probably why the Bush folks dropped emphasis on finding Bin Laden and defeating Al-Qaeda from almost the moment the first bombs fell in Iraq - although we were reminded of them from time to time, when expedient.

When Attorney General Holder was deciding what to do with the 9/11 perps, some aspect of this history must have been in mind. If those murderers were working for an enemy in a declared WAR, then the rules are clear - try them either in a US military court or internationally for WAR crimes. If they are part of a diffuse terrorist organization against which we have not declared WAR then US civilian courts - AND the courts of all countries whose citizens were killed on 9/11 (and that is many), are appropriate.

Which is what Holder and President Obama have decided.

CSI: Where's Ray?

Morpheus must be fuming down in Zion ...

USA Today ran a commentary by Robert Bianco titled Fishburne and 'CSI': The Evidence is weak, which, cute title aside, perfectly summed up the situation faced by the actor and the show. Bianco rightly noted the horribleness of the recent CSI trilogy, which featured Fishburne's character, Ray Langston, but in the worst possible way. The article ended by nicely summing up the problem: Fishburne has lead billing but his character is in a subordinate role. How do you solve that dilemma? Bianco didn't tell us. He lamented the situation and hinted it was time for Fishburne and CSI to part ways.

Nice article, but he's wrong. Fisburne's Langston is a likable character, and the shows (trilogy excepted) have been entertaining. But CSI does need to move Ray up in the ranks and soon, to finish a journey which was obviously planned from his first appearance on the series, but has stalled for some unfathomable reason.

Ray Langston was a doctor. That gives him empathy with the pathologist. He was a professor and author on the behavior of psychopathic serial killers, which qualifies him as a profiler like the folks in Criminal Minds. In short, he has the qualities of a 'super-CSI'. And most of us who understood these strengths expected a rapid rise from learning the ropes to taking over the lead. That hasn't happened, and, as Robert Bianco noted, it makes for an awkward situation on the show.

The conundrum can easily be overcome. The writers need to complete the transformation of Langston from intellectual professor to intellectual CSI leader, and forego attempts to make him 'one of the gang'. Stop attempting to make him warm and fuzzy with the victims too. A 'heart on sleeve' approach won't work for the head of a CSI unit, so drop the attempt to humanize Langston - and soon.

I can foresee an upcoming series of episodes where Dr. Ray rises up to lead the hunt for an 'unsub' ala Grissom's search for the 'Miniature Killer', perhaps doing a guest shot on a Criminal Minds in the process. The hunt will end with Langston a different man - and appointed the leader of the Las Vegas CSI team. Sure, there will be friction, since the other CSI's have been there longer, and in real life they'd be angered. But that can be managed through plot. The other actors might be a tad resistant to the move too, but that can be managed with contracts.

To save the show, Langston must move up, or as Bianco hinted, move out. If the latter, I would suggest an episode that begins with Dr. Ray picking up a phone and dissolving before our eyes, out of the 'Matrix' and back to his 'reality'. The remaining CSI team could lead the search for the missing Langston, but ultimately call for help from the FBI, which arrives just before the credits in the form of Keanu Reeves. (Cue closing music from The Matrix).

Poetry Break: Palinopia

Alaska's minus one,

Sarah's gone

Rogue, Rogue, Rogue

Juneau's loss is, well, perhaps

no loss at all

The rest of us haven't gained a thing

Alaska's Alaska, even if

Sarah's gone

Rogue, Rogue, Rogue

I think I'll take a cruise north,

now that Palinopia's fallen,

and Sarah's on the road

Selling books to would-be Rogues

Babble-On 29

Wherein my faith in the human race waxes and wanes ... (mostly wanes)

Much Ado About Mammograms - Kids, Kids! Can we all settle down and stop shouting? I haven't met the woman yet who likes getting mammograms, who clamors for the right to get them at the earliest possible age. Even so, the announcement from some panel somewhere suggesting that women wait to start regular yearly testing until age 50 drew outrage from numerous interested parties. I say 'parties' since I am guessing most individual women under the age of 50 met the news with a sigh of relief and an easing of dread. But I'll bet the mammography business is concerned about these new guidelines and have the troops mobilized in earnest. Including, surprisingly, Health and Human Services Secretary, Kathleen Sibelius. Does anybody in government talk with each other about these things before they are pronounced to the general public? I can't wait for the memo on colonoscopy.

Fox News Vs The White House - Is there anything the White House can do to get some positive press out of Fox News? Appoint Rupert Murdoch Ambassador to Australia? Wait, he's from there. And even if they did throw something Rupert's way, it wouldn't be enough. Fox seems to truly have it in for the Obama administration, giving a never-ending series of Republican representatives and think-tankers an uncritical platform for sniping. The 'reporting' is most definitely not 'objective', unless by 'objective' you mean some sort of goal or agenda. But Fox may be shooting itself in the foot. What would they do for news if a Republican administration was back in the White House?

Airborne Maneuvers - I've been flying around the country a lot lately, and I must say overall the experience has boosted my attitude about people around this great country. Today though, I witnessed the sleaziest example of petty self-indulgence I've ever seen while traveling. It was almost enough to erase that attitude boost. You know what I'm talking about - you, the woman and her companion traveling from Houston to Austin who scammed your way into the early boarding group by falsely claiming you were accompanying the young minor girl who was in line in front of you. Was it worth trading integrity to board a few minutes earlier? You pulled it off with great aplomb, though. I don't know what you do for a living now, but consider a new career on Fox News. And a colonoscopy ...

Slash, Beware!

While on the road, I like to intersperse bouts of work with bouts of watching TV programs I don't get to watch while at home. The latter includes just about anything on the National Geographic Channel, so I was happy to take a break from critiquing the work of others and tune in 'Expedition Great White'.

The show was about research being conducted at Guadalupe Island, off the coast of Mexico. Which just happens to be where I photographed my buddy 'Slash', whose grin graces this blog. Naturally I was interested.

After closing the laptop and turning to the TV, I settled in with a coffee in hand to watch my friends in action, anticipating them gliding about and generally looking pleased with themselves. The reality of what I saw had me spluttering coffee on my shirt and exclaiming my shock to the hotel room (and several floors above and below).

What I witnessed was a fishing trip, basically. A prolonged struggle in which a shark is hooked and drug about the ocean by a boat for an hour until its life seemed suspended by a slender thread. Then this magnificent animal is pulled onto a platform and hoisted above water, a hose shoved in its mouth pumping water through its gills (much faster and more turbulently than it would naturally). It then gets tagged, sampled, and generally gloated over.

At that point I could watch no more. I assume the shark was shoved back in the water at some point, and a voice over probably said the shark would be no worse for the experience. Don't you believe it. There's no way a struggle like that would leave a shark unharmed. Great Whites have amazing recuperative ability it's true, but it takes time to recover, and one luxury no creature in the great food chain that is the ocean ever has enough of is time to recover from wounds, recover strength to fight rivals (and Great Whites do compete with each other), or recover strength to capture prey.

Instead of beautiful science, I witnessed gross and unnecessary cruelty. I hope true marine scientists and conservationists the world over will voice their concern over this 'research' practice.

The shark I saw when I tuned in had Slash's dappled sides, but I hope that was just a coincidence. I hope Slash was well away from the Island that day and that he and his brothers and sisters can find some peace.

Space: Live from Houston

For some odd reason I don't think of Space when I am in Houston. Even though there's a 1/15th scale Shuttle in Houston Hobby Airport and the phrase 'Houston, we have a problem' is a settled part of the language.

When I think about Houston I think of Oil, Lyle Lovett, and 'Middle Age Crazy'. And strangely I think of Larry Hagman, even though his J.R. Ewing stalked the streets of Dallas. But I guess there's some logic embedded there, since Hagman played an astronaut in 'I Dream of Jeanie'.

Despite my lack of recognition, Houston is all about Space. It is the home of NASA's Johnson Space Center, from which our missions into Space are controlled. Growing up as I did a stone's throw from the Cape in Florida I always wondered why the big control center would be in Houston and not in Florida. The reason, of course, had everything to do with President Lyndon Johnson, a Texan, and not geography. I was proud of Florida and ticked at the perceived slight. But it could have been worse. Johnson could have hailed from Alaska (Nome Space Center?)

All this thinking of Space was conjured up by a headline in the news today of the Space Shuttle Atlantis rocketing off to resupply the International Space Station. And another headline about the Leonid Meteor Shower - supposedly the 'strongest' of the year. North America should see about 30 to 60 meteors and hour and in Asia, 200 to 300. Reading those two together made me think: Is this really a good time to be sending up the Shuttle? I mean, is there a possibility it could get shot-peened, and not in a good way?

Well, maybe those meteors are small, about the size and consistency of dust bunnies, and won't cause any harm. Just in case, though, here's hoping NASA has it's heat resistant tile repair down pat. Or insurance. Do Geckos live in Houston?

Blogoversary the First

October 29, 2009, was the first anniversary of this blog. But there was no time to stop and celebrate, since I was busy traveling for my paying gig.

Turns out that oversight was OK, since the last item posted on this blog was the 200th, which means two milestones to cheer.

When I started this list of rants, I hoped to share a few observations and have a little fun.

I also needed an outlet for the verbal magma building up deep within the volcanic chamber that is my mind. My friends were getting a little tired of eruptions all too frequently interrupting dinner conversation. The digressions, soap box speeches, and stream of consciousness diatribes strained relationships. They had to stop. Hence this blog.

And I am happy to report some progress. Maybe in another year and another 200 I'll have the problem licked.

In the meantime, If this column of sorts provides a little light reading for you out there in the websphere, that's great too. Let me hear from you now and again ...

A Brave Move

In the short time he has resided in the White House, Barack Obama has made some gutsy and controversial moves. None quite match the bravery of his recent decision to put the 9/11 suspects on public trial in New York City, the scene of the crime.

I say 'his' decision, although Attorney General Eric Holder is the man directly responsible for the move. Even though the Attorney General is independent of the Chief Executive, it would be hard to imagine Mr. Holder operating without the President's approval on this matter. So let's give Mr. Obama a big thumbs up on this one. It's a brave move. And it's risky.

First off, all of the juicy information garnered through 'enhanced interrogation techniques' by the minions of the Bush Administration won't be admissible in a civilian court. That leaves the prosecutors only evidence gathered through legal means. Hopefully the Bush team remembered to do enough of that in between waterboarding sessions.

The move is also risky since defense attorneys will have plenty of ammunition to claim forced confessions, inappropriate venue, and all sorts of misconduct, in their efforts to get charges reduced or even dropped. In our country, the defense in criminal cases often gets a bad rap -except in TV shows from the 50s, 60s and 70s, when they were heroes - like Perry Mason. In this case even Perry Mason would be booed on the streets for his efforts. But providing a vigorous defense for even the obviously guilty is the most important component of the foundation of our justice system. Hard to swallow at times, like this time, but true.

My guess is the defense will start their case with a motion to change venue, claiming the defendants won't get an impartial hearing in New York. That's not a difficult claim to support, so the judge will have a tough decision. But where to hold the trial if not New York? I really wouldn't want to be that judge.

Finally, the riskiest aspect of this bold move is the opportunity it may give the defendants to attempt to legitimize the 9/11 attacks. Such an attempt wouldn't change the outcome of the trial, but it could serve as a powerful recruiting tool for anti-US extremists worldwide.

Still, we have to trust the President and his Attorney General on this move. Their motive in doing this is clear - to change this 'War on Terror' into the international, cooperative, civilian police action it should always have been from the beginning. To separate the hunt for Al-Qaeda (and Bin Laden) from military efforts to settle the Bush legacy in Iraq and Afghanistan.

And that's a good thing. And a Brave Move.

Eight Plus Ten

Listening to the radio news the other day, my attention was seized by a commentator's report that some in the US Armed Forces believe we might be in Afghanistan for as long as ten more years.

Pardon me? TEN MORE YEARS ?

If I am not mistaken, we've already been there for nearly eight long and bloody years. Another ten of those can hardly be contemplated.

I recall our leaders back in late '01 and early '02 telling us we would go in there, straighten things out, get the populace (a sturdy and resilient bunch) back into good trim, and then get the hell out. I remember them bristling with indignation when anyone suggested we'd be there for more than a year, let alone three, five, or (unthinkable) eight.

I remember talk of self-reliance. After all, native Afghan militias run by friendly warlords did most of the Taliban butt-kicking, with a little help from US air support. There was no talk of any US troop requirements long term. We were just there to find Bin Laden and cart him off to Gitmo.

But somehow, while we were focused on the morass of Iraq, things changed in Afghanistan. Or, the false reality we were fed was lifted to reveal the truth of the matter. Or, the reality was changed to suit someone's best interest (but not ours). No matter why, things were suddenly different, and instead of the done deal we thought it was, the little country that has thwarted invaders for thousands of years has retaken center stage as our thorniest problem.

Luckily, this problem can be de-thorned and resolved quite quickly. Simply stated, let's get out of there as fast as our planes, trucks, and ships can move us. Say 'Goodbye and Thanks for All the Dust' to that corrupt guy Karzai and pick up our chips and leave the table.

Tough as it is to walk away from all that effort, to leave all that human sacrifice of lives and time unrequited, it is better to do so than suffer through ten more years. We do not want or need another decade of our presence irritating the locals into ever deeper levels of mistrust and hatred, until there's not a US sympathizer left and all hope of a positive US influence on the region has been dashed.

Let's back way and take a different tack. Allow the Afghanis to work out their government as they see fit, and when they do, step in with help and aid in rebuilding their country (or building it in the first place - heck, we have lots of unemployed engineers right now). Or, if we find the government they form distasteful, we can just leave them alone and focus our efforts on helping Pakistan and India (i.e., the guys with the nukes), and, lest we forget, Iraq.

Eight Plus Ten? Fool Us Once, But Not Again ...

Welcome To The Fall

Sitting in Los Angeles you wouldn't know Autumn was upon you. Nights become slightly colder and gradually longer, yet the days stay warm and bright. The End of Summer sneaks up, leaving you blissfully unaware until some event wakes you up to seasonal reality.

For me, in LA, that Event was always Halloween. Hunting for last minute costumes for the kids, gathering with friends, and eating candy, perhaps by the first lit fireplace since March, all get me in the mood for the colder slice of year. All-Hallows tunes me up for the grander Holidays, and girds me against the coming of slightly less warm days and much colder nights.

This year, a business trip took me to the Great Midwest, where the changing color of the trees offered a spoiler to this year's Pumpkin Fest. I was reminded that folks living in many areas of this great country receive earlier (and harsher) cues for the arrival of Fall.

Leaves of red and gold may be beautiful to look at from the warmth of a heated car, or when seen through the window of a cozy house, but I'll pass on the frosty experience of viewing them outdoors. I believe I can live with my usual timing, my unawareness until Halloween taps me on my skull, points to the calendar and says 'Wake Up, It's Fall'.

My Recovery Plan

Everybody should have a personal economic 'Recovery Plan'. Why should the government have all the fun? If bureaucrats can hash together something that sort of works, surely your average citizen can too.

With that goal and spirit in mind, I have set my average citizen's average intelligence to work on the problem. With a focus on ... me. My family, relatives, and friends, though important and much loved, will have to figure it out for themselves. (Consider the following as insurance for better birthday presents. Or at least the presence of presents.)

Here's my intensely personalized plan:

Step 1: Reinvention - Until now, I have pursued roughly three careers: scientist, computer geek, and quality enforcer. While all of these have been rewarding in their way, none have made me securely wealthy. I need a new career to carry me through the rest of my life. One which will finally fetch me that gold ring (why bother with brass) which has been just out of reach. Some options I have considered include doctor (it's never too late), politician (power = money), real estate broker (prices will rise again!), and novelist (the best-selling kind, not the artist). I've had lawyer suggested to me, and that appeals greatly, since lawyers don't appear to work very hard, instead scraping the cream from the top of other people's endeavors (or mistakes), which really appeals to my lazy side. So maybe lawyer. Either that or plumber.

Step 2: Location - Your ability to recover from the recession has a least a little to do with where you live. Why take chances? Move out of the underemployed zone you currently call home and move to where the jobs are. Be sure to update your passport and apply for a visa, though, since where the jobs are is not here in the U.S. of A. I plan to move to American Samoa and become a Samoan lawyer - or plumber. Possibly Minister of Disaster Planning, which could include both skills. (Wait, do I even need a passport for American Samoa?)

and finally,

Step 3: Diversification - Once you have moved to a location conducive to your recovery and achieved that gold ring grabbing job, it's important to think about protecting your assets against any future meltdown. The smart money says you should diversify and spread your money across multiple investments. Then again, 'smart money' thought AIG was nicely diversified. Me, I like honey. Everyone likes honey. And the bees that make it are getting scarce. There's money in bees. There's money in honey. And tires - motorcycle tires specifically. They wear out quickly, and cost a lot. Bees, honey, and tires then.

So that's it for me. A future as a American Samoan lawyer, government minister, and/or plumber, with major investment in bees and honey and a sideline in tires for two-wheelers.

What's YOUR plan?

Waffles?

In following the debate amongst our congressional representatives over health care reform, I am reminded of waffles.

Not warm, tasty waffles, with healthful globs of sugary syrup and the odd strawberry for color, but the dried up frozen kind, overheated in a cranky old toaster. The kind that tend to flip-flop back and forth and wobble wildly when you frisbee them across the room.

I know that politics is compromise. At least, that's what the theorists believe.

I imagine when they view the messy bill that is likely to come out of Congress, they'll see waffles, slightly compromised in some acceptable way, say with butter instead of syrup and minus the strawberry. I'm afraid I'll see just blackened buttery square frisbees that just won't fly.

My 15 Seconds

In Los Angeles, everyone gets onscreen eventually. Just like everyone locks fenders on the 101 eventually. It's a fact of life.

I haven't played bumper pool on the freeway yet (although others in our household have made a contribution to the statistics), but I now have my 15 seconds of 'fame'. I am actually visible in a real Hollywood film.

Granted, it's not a big budget blockbuster. And I don't speak. I mostly sit at a table trying to look as much like a JPL engineer as I can, which is to say I try to look thoughtful, wise, and a touch geeky. Given that persona, I try to react appropriately to what the speaking characters are saying at the table. Luckily, there are no close-ups of me, or else the polymorphous twitching which represented my attempt at reaction might disenchant the critics.

I'm glad nothing I did in my 15 (actually maybe 2?) seconds could possibly effect the critical view of the film, since I'm sure it'll be a good one and deserve a wide viewing. After all, it's based on an engrossing short story called 'Path Lights' and the cast and crew turning it into film are all top notch. The extras (me excepted) aren't bad either. If you click on this link and look at the 11th picture up from the end of the page, you can see me. Well, you can see my left shoulder and part of my head, featuring a stunning left ear and reasonable hair. I am told you can see more of me in the actual film, or you can hold up a thumb and block out my head, your choice.

The film is supposedly being screened at the AFI/Goodson Theater in Los Angeles the last week of October. I don't know for sure since I didn't get an official invitation, and I can't find a link on the web advertising it. No matter really, since I can't make it anyway. I have to work and that means flying to Kansas (Yo, Toto!). But you don't have to miss it. It may be open to the curious public, it may not. Go see if they'll let you in.

Survivor: The Balloon Race

Reality programs have reached an impasse: unplanned real events are more interesting than those currently featured in staged 'reality'. When you can't manipulate 'reality' to make it more interesting than real, random, reality, it's time to punt. Or redefine what's meant by 'reality'.

One possible solution to the conundrum would be to place cameras in the homes of thousands of randomly selected people (or, better yet, right on the people) and have them record a year in their lives. Then edit the mess together for some sort of series. Something interesting is bound to happen right? Truly inspired editing might help.

The result certainly can't be worse than the offerings of 'reality' we have on air now. Hell, the whole 'balloon boy' media event got more attention than the actual televised reality programs. Of course, it's starting to look as if that bit of news was just a staged 'reality' as well, but it did hold interest.

So why not riff on something proven to get attention? Survivor should plan a series where teams take off in homemade balloons. The plot should be which team can go from, say, San Diego, to Paris (to provide an exciting over-the-water stretch) in 13 episodes. Bonus points if the teams can fool local police into believing the flights are accidental runaways containing nuns, small children, or women known to have slept with David Letterman.

I'd watch that. Maybe ...

Emergency Room Downtime

We all lead busy lives. Maybe not doing work, given the economy, but certainly we are busy looking for work. And when not actively working or looking, we spend tons of time engaging in whatever distracting activities we can to forget about how much we dislike working, or being out of work. That's tiring, and some of us need a rest.

So why not go to your nearest large hospital and visit the emergency room? Go there the next time you cut an artery while doing-it-yourself, or botch a suicide attempt. Hell, go there if you just think you've got the plague, or botulism, or end-stage lyme disease. If you have any of those, or feel like you do, you definitely need a rest.

Why go to a busy, chaotic, emergency room to rest? Because you are guaranteed plenty of downtime. Time where you can do nothing else but sit, bleed, and wait, for hours and hours. Time where you have an iron-clad excuse to be off the grid, out of touch, unable to contribute.

While driving around ticking off chores from my 'To Do' list the other day, I heard a blurb on the radio about some hospital somewhere (I wasn't paying close attention at first) that established new 'guidelines' - promises really - for emergency room care. This hospital promised not more than 13 patients would wait not more than 11 hours for care.

I don't know about you, but I could use 11 hours of downtime. Not so sure about that number 13 in an emergency room though ...

Babbleocity 28: Who Can You Trust?

Sometime the answer surprises, others not ...

Karzai - The US has reluctantly accepted Hamid Karzai as President for a second term, even amidst evidence of widespread election rigging that may render as many as 1.5 million votes fraudulent. That's the worst case of it's kind since the US Supreme Court reluctantly (or so I've heard) accepted George W. Bush as President in 2000. Mr. Karzai gained power in Afghanistan with the help of the Bush Administration - maybe they helped him with his campaign strategy too? Trust!

Sinai - You've got cancer. Sorry to hear that. But - you have great insurance and your doctor is sending you to Cedars-Sinai, one of the finest hospitals in the US, maybe the world, where your brain will be scanned ... wait, what did you say? You read in the LA Times they overdosed people with radiation? Over 200 of them, for more than a year? Oh, but it was a problem with the scanning equipment, right? No? You say that Cedars staff changed the settings and forgot to change them back? That's not so good. But, on the other hand, they didn't kill anybody (at least, not right away) - and didn't you hear Cedars was chosen as one of the top hospitals for survivability in the country? Trust!

Banzai - Cruise control is a nice accessory for your car. I can't recall using mine more than a - oh, half dozen times in the last dozen years, but I imagine it can be useful. Engaging that auto throttle control might relax you, relieving the pressure on your right leg so the sciatica won't keep you up all night. The usefulness of that relief, however, is lost immediately if said cruise control engages warp nine and can't be turned off. In fact, it's worse than un-useful, it's lethal, and Toyota is taking the rap for instances of this sort of fatal uselessness happening to their electronically sophisticated cars. So far, Toyota has traced some of the blame to misplaced floormats (high tech system, low tech problem), but investigators are taking a close look at the electronic controls of the cars involved. Apparently they can be difficult to shut off while driving, or at least, the procedure to do so is arcane, and not something easily done while rocketing down the I-5 at 120. Trust!

Be sure to avoid campaign advice from any former Bush or Karzai staffer, always double-check the settings of your brain scanner, and properly adjust (or throw away) your floormats.

And always ask, 'Who Can I Trust?", the answer might surprise you ...

Poetry Break: Jobless Recovery

I'm told we are in recovery

They say life's getting better

But I don't have a steady job

And I hocked my dog's last sweater

I can't pay the bills

or plan a nice vacation

What money I earn provides no frills

And my mortgage doesn't qualify for modification.

I play the lottery but never win it,

so please shut up about this recovery

At least, until I'm in it ...

Babble-On 27: The Airport Discombobulation

Pulling on my Andy Rooney Halloween mask a tad early ...

Most Wanted - Have you ever noticed how protective people are of their place in line? Just the other day I was spending a pleasant half hour waiting at airport security with my fellow lemmings when I noticed another traveler (apparently) walking around the corner purposely with bag in tow. I stepped out of line briefly and for not more than twenty feet - to see where he'd gone. Perhaps he'd found an open line and I could signal my fellow line standers towards freedom. But no, he'd disappeared (where?) and I stepped quickly back into line. From the looks of the others you would have though I was Dillinger - and not the Johnny Depp version.

Delusions of Grandeur fueled by Anonymity - Have you ever noticed how some people, traveling alone in busy airports, can seem oblivious to others around them? I noticed a man of mature age, sitting by himself at the airport gate, finish up a burrito, roll up the wrapping paper, and toss it - exaggerated NBA style - at the nearest trash receptacle. In full view of dozens, perhaps a hundred, people. Have you ever noticed how the veil of anonymity can be ripped away during the long, slow walk to recover an errant 'ball'?

Fuel needed but not desired (aka, the Consumption Conundrum) - Have you ever noticed how hard it is to decide which horrible, overpriced airport food to take with you on the plane? Have you ever paced back and forth between shops and their options like a hungry tiger faced with two plates, neither containing the desired antelope? Have you made a desperate decision, bought something - anything- and felt immediate remorse, and later, indigestion?

I really do love Airports ... but mostly when I'm not in one ...

Big Gov

You have heard it from the righty words of the Right: Mr. Obama is all about Big Government. He is out to establish an ever-widening web of czars and sundry civil servants who will take away our every option for free action and self-determination. Right? Right.

But not so fast. What would the Right do, if they were in power now? What did they do when Bush was in the oval office (he was in the oval office occasionally, wasn't he)?

The Republicans under Bush took big chunks of our personal freedom away ('Patriot' Act) and tried to turn the Iraq War into one giant pension fund for Cheney et al - witness all those no-bid KBR and Halliburton contracts. They told us who could marry who, and fought to ensure women couldn't make decisions about their own bodies. They spent billions on wars that never had to happen, costing thousands of American lives, as means to an end that wasn't even right, wasn't even necessary, and they left us with a global, very costly, mess to clean up (if we even can). They dismissed an entire industry of airport security scanners and replaced them with a bureaucratic agency, the TSA, that does - as far as I can see - exactly what the previous scanners did, only with a lot more people (and I will guess at far greater cost).

Big Government happens with both parties, it's the approach and the goals that differ. Me, I'd prefer a government that gets big trying to help me and my fellow citizens, rather than one that bloats with ways and means of spying on us, and wages big war across the globe.

I'll Take Trigger

Fire up the wayback machine, Sherman, and take me back to a simpler time. A time when TV showed Westerns - including those oddball not-quite-Old-West ones, like 'Sky King', and 'The Roy Rogers Show'.

Ah, Roy Rogers and his horse, Trigger. And faithful dog Bullet. And his sidekick's old jeep, 'Nellie Belle'. Good TV for a dreamy kid back in the day. Who cared if it was in black and white? Trigger was beautiful, and 'triggered' a lengthy but ultimately unfulfilled obsession with Palomino horses that lingers (impotently, but firmly) in my psyche still.

Fast forward to a time not so long ago. Visiting the 'Roy Rogers Museum' in Apple Valley with my own kids, admiring the knick knacks and detritus of Roy's life on display along with his deceased and stuffed companions (just the animals, his sidekick escaped that fate). My kids impressed at all the 'stuff' and I half amused at the tackiness of much of it, but half still a kid in a candy store.

There were a few more good visits to that museum of American Dream nostalgia, but not enough by us or anyone else to keep the place solvent, so the Roger's estate up and moved the whole thing to Branson, Missouri - that showpiece of midwest banality done up as Disneyland Music Hall meets a family-friendly Las Vegas. A logical move I guess, since Branson was targeted at the soft white middle of the great mass of nostalgic boomers and their still-extant parents and kin. Just the folks who might remember and love Roy best. But to yank out the cowboy heart of high desert California and stick it in Missouri? Criminal.

A bit of sadness tinged with resentful glee, then, to hear The Roy Roger's Museum in Branson is closing its doors due to declining attendance and 'the economy'. The news isn't all bad though: the 'memorabilia' and 'artifacts' will be sold, according to a blurb in USA Today (October 7, 2009).

I'll take Trigger. I'll even trade my 1955 Roy Rogers Singing Cowboy guitar for him ...

Flying in a Bad Dream

One of the more disheartening manifestations of this economic 'repression', is the crumbling infrastructure and sinking service of once-mighty airlines. I don't want to name names, but I think most of you who've experienced the airline I have in mind would be united in opinion.

Once a leader of the industry, this airline has reduced it's fleet from over 600 to fewer than 400 jets, and it's workforce from over 100,000 to something shy of 50,000. All of this in less than 5 years. Now that's a plunge steeper and scarier than any landing at San Diego's Lindbergh Field.

So what, I hear you say? A lot of companies have to cut back to save money in the recession, and it makes them more efficient. At least that's how Wall Street views it, rewarding the cost cutters with increased stock prices. Maybe, but it doesn't quite work out for airlines, at least not the one of which I speak.

Fewer planes means fewer backups should one break. That means delays and cancellations. Fewer planes also mean fewer alternative flights for those displaced passengers to 'standby' for. The end result is a horde of pissed off passengers who have either been stranded, or spent twice as long getting where they were going (and arriving without their bags which were lost in all the changes). Not quite the definition one would give to 'efficient'.

I used to fly this airline frequently. I subscribed to their private 'club', so I could sit and nosh on cheap snacks and work away from the noise and hubbub of the terminal. I never had a cancellation and only minor delays - nothing I would call a bad experience. How things have changed.

On a recent trip from LA to the East Coast, my flight out of LAX was delayed, then my alternate bookings were also delayed, until all hope of making connections was lost and I had to be re-routed through another hub. Then THAT flight was delayed enough to miss connections too. A precautionary standby booking finally paid off and I managed to get to the hub only for that flight to be delayed too. By my count that was four delayed flights in a single outbound trip.

Bad Luck not yet satisfied, my return trip was worse. My connecting flight out of the hub was about 40 minutes out when we had to turn around and return with 'mechanical issues'. The pilot tried to sneak back, but some observant passengers noted the turn which forced an announcement. After a semi-tense return trip, we were kept on the plane while the mechanics worked on the problem. Unfortunately, they were busy on some other emergency repairs ahead of ours.

About an hour later, the problem reportedly fixed, we attempted a take off. Just as we were 3rd in line for departure, the pilot announced the problem had returned and the takeoff was aborted. After a slow return to the gate, we were ushered off the plane and to another gate where we commandeered (essentially) the plane that was about to take a bunch of folks to their destination. I thought they behaved quite well given the circumstances, with most restraining their indignation and rage admirably. Angry stares weren't taken personally. We WERE taking THEIR plane, after all. But we weren't about to let sympathy interfere with our getting home.

That commandeered plane got us back to LA. Too late as it turned out for all of the connecting flights - those passengers were trundled off to hotels. I dragged my weary self to the car park and drove another 30 minutes home. I fell quickly asleep, and out of a bad dream.

EPILOGUE: The airline gave every passenger on that problematic return flight a voucher for a compensation of your choice (from a limited list). Fair enough, as damage control goes. I have also been once more on this airline since that experience (not by choice), and it was uneventful. But as I scanned the monitors at the airports, I noticed quite a few delays and cancellations - and not just for the airline in question. The problems are widespread, and they don't disappear because you don't experience them.

No, David!

Joining the already roiling ranks of the publicly humiliated, David Letterman came clean to his audience and the press on Thursday, admitting to having sex with women (note the plural) who worked on his show.

Women who worked on his show. That would make him their boss. And that's considered sexual harassment, as anyone who's had to sit through the corporate training sessions on that subject would No (ah, ... know). Mr. L must have missed that meeting.

Of course, Letterman is the innocent in this scandal. It's really the person (or persons) who attempted to extort blackmail to the tune of 2 million from him who're the real nasties, right? Well, that's how David (and CBS I am sure) would hope we'll feel. After all, he did the right thing and told the authorities, despite it meaning his secret would come out.

Nobody ever said David Letterman wasn't brave. Telling the police rather than coughing up the millions was gutsy - or cheap, possibly. I guess we'll never really know which.

One thing though is sure, David clearly doesn't know boundaries, whether as spouse or boss, much like Bill Clinton, that Sanford guy, and a littany of other prominents who have contributed to our national loss of innocence and trust.

Kissing Healthcare

No, this is not about communicable diseases spread through smooching. It's got nothing to do with love, or sex. It's a commentary on the complexity of healthcare reform.

Now, for those of you still reading this, here it is (and you are probably way ahead of me):

Keep It Simple Stupid

We've all heard the rumors of 1000 page drafts of multiple bills in the House and Senate. Imagine the veritable army of interns spending all night every night reading, writing, and creating synopses for their bosses. The Washington, D.C. pizza delivery industry must be booming.

Now that, my friends, is too complex. And that is what my fellow Democrats are doing. They are the Anti-KISS.

The Republicans? They are taking KISS too far - they aren't doing anything. I'll give them this, that approach is economical of effort and allows them to store up energy for tea parties and disruptive outbursts at presidential speeches. But it's not helping us fix any problems.

Healthcare reform should be kept to it's simplest goals:

Ensure every person gets care that will help and not hurt (physically, emotionally, or financially). The principle should be that nobody will be allowed to stay sick or die in American because they couldn't afford the care. And 'afford' means the ability to pay without sacrificing too much - it will not mean paying for care by not eating or losing your home or not sending your kids to college.

Ensure care is guaranteed to persist through job changes, periods of unemployment, and long illnesses. The care you need will always be available, even when you can't afford to pay the healthcare premiums. (This is critical if you intend to require everyone have coverage). And nobody will be denied because of prior conditions, genetic predisposition, or history of illness.

Ensure care is of high and consistent quality. Sure, the Very Rich may be able to buy new, cutting edge treatment sooner than available to the rest of us - that's free enterprise and somebody needs to be the guinea pigs - but once a procedure or a medicine has been approved as a standard of care, it will be available to everyone that needs it.

Ensure care is cost-effective. The cost of care will not increase unpredictably and any taxpayer money spent will either be recouped or justified by increased benefits. We will never again pay more money for worse care.

That's it. Care should be available, persistent, of consistently high quality, and cost-effective. I hope my fellow Democrats mulling this over in Congress can find these 'Four Ensures' within those thousand-page tomes, and sharpen their focus. I also hope the Republicans will start collaborating on this focus, rather than trying to break it.

It doesn't matter whether these goals are accomplished solely through private enterprise, or joined with a 'public option'. It's time to stop 'wrestling' with Healthcare - and just KISS it.

That's Life!

Like most American TV viewers today, I am a fan of shows with action, and with a capital 'A'.

It must come from a desire to be ripped out of our repetitive, over-scheduled, lives. But for whatever the reason, shows with the requisite action get our attention, and those without it, don't.

I am not including comedies in this discussion, since laughing is its own action - sort of. And comedies are seldom more than half-hour shows, while dramas are usually an hour. An hour without action is bedtime, basically.

Which is all too bad, since several shows that deserve my (and our) attention have slipped away. The one which bothers me most is 'Life', which has gone missing from NBC's lineup after two seasons. I only caught a few episodes of it before it went away, usually when the other shows I watched in its time slot were showing a rerun.

You see, by crime procedural standards, the show had little action. If you were swapping channels and happened upon it, you'd be unlikely to glimpse any car chases, shootings, foot pursuits, breaking glass, or bloody gore to arrest your attention. So, like many of the shows fans, I settled on it for a try only when there was simply-nothing-else I wanted to watch.

But the show was good - even great. By the time the season ended, I'd become caught up in the life of detective Charlie Crews (Damian Lewis). He'd become one of my favorite people. The finale was satisfying, and left me wanting more. The supporting cast was first rate, and, even if the writing was only just acceptable, I eagerly anticipated the next season.

Little did I know the decision had already been made to drop the show. (Thank You, Jay Leno)

Luckily for me, the first two seasons are available for download from iTunes. I've been buying the standard definition versions two at a time to watch during plane rides on my iPod. So I can honestly say I've 'enjoyed Life at 30,000 feet'.

RIP Charlie Crews ...

G-Whiz

Our economy may be recovering - or as some have put it, the recession may be 'technically over'. I'm not sure what that really means, but I'm guessing by-the-book and by-the-numbers, it should be over, but it's not.

At least we aren't suffering from inflation. Although I do remember housing prices, way back in the 80's, received (as Albert Brooks put it in 'Lost in America') a 'ride on the inflation train you wouldn't believe'. That probably wouldn't hurt a few homeowners who've lately taken a ride on the deflation down elevator (maybe 'mine shaft').

One thing which seems to be inflating is financial summit memberships. It wasn't that long ago we had the G-7, then a few years ago it was the G-8. Now it seems we have the G-20.

G-Whiz, why not let everyone in on the party and get a real cacophony going. Muammar Gaddafi can be keynote speaker.

Electromagnetic Rain

It never rains in Southern California - except after a fire, when you least need it. But we here in sunny SoCal are continually and voluminously drenched by rain of another sort. And so are you too, wherever you live. Unless you live in an underground bunker, or more than 100 feet deep in the Ocean (the next hot real estate, you read it here first).

The constant rain I am hinting at is electromagnetic radiation. EM radiation. As I sit here, I am bathed in it. Not really so much rain as a cloud, or swirling ocean current. It's everywhere and touches every part of me not shielded by something substantial - lead shorts, anyone?

This EM is made from all those beautiful waves of information that reach our cell phones, radios, and broadcast television receivers. Microwave communications are a big source, and virtually every household, business, and public space has wireless 'hotspots' now. And don't forget high tension power lines and the electric motors in those nifty, frugal Priuses (Priusi?) All good EM.

The jury is still out on whether this stuff hurts us in the long term. Nobody really wants an answer now anyway - the solution if the answer is 'yes' is too disrupting to contemplate. Imagine the Surgeon General telling us 'Okay, everybody. Starting tomorrow, no more cell phones and back to wired connections for everyone.' Yeah, right - starting tomorrow, no more Surgeon General.

What puzzles me is, bathed in all this delicious EM that I am, I can still manage to find a cellular dead zone. Maybe we should all try to find one and move there.

Of course, not content with this man-made web of potentially harmful 'rain', some people would like to intensify the experience by triggering a nuclear bomb high up over us on the edge of space. Giving us a tsunami of EM ( an EM pulse, or EMP) that will, aside from whatever it might do to our bodies, wipe out all electronics, including power grids. And not just for a few minutes or hours, but months or even years. Instant Stone Age.

Scared? Not me. I am reassured by both the Register and the Huffington Post when they tell me the threat is overstated intentionally by freaky conservatives like Mike Huckabee. I can believe that.

So I will continue to obsess solely about the silent, everywhere-around-me kind of EM. Excuse me while I don my foil suit.

Changing The Scenery

It's a time-tested political ploy and it works: when the going gets tough, change the scenery.

With President Obama up between a rock (conservative republican hucksters - or maybe just Glenn Beck) and a hard place (a cacophony of confused dems), the public has begun to view him and his Presidency as, well, perhaps a tad ineffectual. Only a bit - he's built a lot of deserved goodwill, but the doubts have begun to creep in.

After all, he's a Democratic President working with a Democratic controlled Congress. If he can't get a bill passed - even a very difficult one on health care, then what can he do?

The answer is change the channel, pick another subject, and let the stalemate resolve itself (if possible) out of the public eye. So, the President has turned attention to foreign affairs, something he has so far left to Hillary Clinton - who's been conspicuous by her absence from (at least US) news media.

And he's begun with a big move - scrapping the plans to place missile defenses in Eastern Europe. Removing a big obstacle to joint initiatives with Russia, and relieving pressure from those Eastern EU politicos, most of whom were reluctant to host the defenses.

Not content with that feint, the President is jigging further with a plan from the tried and true democratic presidential playbook: get Israel and the Palestinians talking. He's moving to get Netanyahu and Abbas together, presumably to discuss getting some movement towards a form of peace. Good Luck with that one, Mr. Obama- check how well Mr. Clinton did when Netanyahu was last prime minister.

Of course, if these initiatives run up against a wall, fall into quicksand, or perhaps bang into Glenn Beck, the President can always switch back to health care. And leave Hillary to take the heat. Or take on Glenn Beck - she'd 'Hillarize' him, for sure.

Babbleocity 26

What comes to mind while on the road ...

Overkill - The more right-leaning members of Congress apparently have no concept of measured response. I am still having difficulty understanding the perspective and state of mind of the member who shouted 'You Lie' to President Obama. What form of politics is this? Street gangs manage themselves better (well, maybe not, but I am prone to 'overkill' too).

Buzzkill - If they gave an award for murdering the moment, killing the buzz, then Kanye West would have one on his mantelpiece, sized to fit his ego. His crazed interruption of Taylor Swift's award presentation to give a plug for Beyonce was beyond crass, and likely garnered stares from award management nearly as piercing as those shot by Nancy Pelosi towards Mr. Joe 'You Lie' Wilson. Of course, now that I think about it, although both tactless gentlemen murdered their moments thoroughly, their actions led to countless hours of press and TV commentary, so perhaps they ultimately built more 'buzz' than they killed. (Now that's a Buzzkill ...)

Roadkill - Lines have been drawn in what passes for sand in Washington, and both sides are determined to hold their respective ground on the hot subject of the moment - Health Care Reform. There's furious activity, but not much change of territory. This apparent stalemate can't last however. If the Teddy effect doesn't make a difference soon in rallying the Dems around the President's plans, there's bound to be loss of ground. I like watching political gamesmanship almost as much as someone who cares, however we mustn't forget that on every inch of ground lost the hopes of millions of Americans for decent, assured health care are trampled.

As we move on down the road, let's hope for corpse-free, perfectly modulated, buzzy tarmac ahead ...

Poetry Break: Fired Up!

I hate fire

except to cook with

or to warm by on a cold night

or to dispel darkness when electricity fails

I hate fire

when it takes the forest

when it takes people

when it's started by people

who don't want it to cook, or warm, or give light

The More Things Change ...

You know the rest of that line.

One would have hoped the Change envisioned by the people who voted Mr. Obama into office would have, by now, nudged this government into transforming our country into the more tolerant, cooperative place it might have been without 8 long years of Presidential arrogance courtesy of George W. Bush.

Sad to comment, then, it looks as if we are faced with the same old same old. The Republicans can think of nothing new to say or do, they just lash out with any sort of accusation or smear that seems useful in obfuscating the facts, enraging their pet electorate, and frustrating the Democrats. The Dems, in their turn, just sit there and fester internally from left/center/conservative splits - mired in collective indecision.

Meanwhile, those of us who hoped for more - from both sides, are beginning to lose faith. Our optimism is stretched to the breaking point, and we are not entirely sure who or what to believe.

Like I said, same old same old. But I am not quite ready to shovel the dirt on this administration's grave - there's some life left, as evidenced by the President's speech on the Health Care 'Debate' the other day. You, know, the one where that idiot from the other party called him a 'liar'. But that's not enough.

Here's hoping the President finds his way back to his promises and inspiring vision. And let's hope whatever Chicago-bred political adroitness he may have in reserve can be wielded to forge some sort of alliance with the more reasonable of the Republicans.

He/They /We need to get a lot done. And soon.

Swine Flu Coming to a School Near You?

I've just read about a college near San Francisco that has reported upwards of 2,000 students sick with flu-like symptoms. And this just in the first 10 days of that school's semester.

Good Lord, what will the rest of the year be like?

Luckily - for those students and the rest of us, this particular flu is less fearsome than it's been reputed to be. At least until it mutates into something akin to an Ebola Cold. In that event, we are heading for the outback of Australia. I'd like to see any virus survive there.

This is topical, as I am all set to pack my son off to his college. He seems healthy enough. No coughing or sneezing. No errant fluids pouring from normally dry orifices (that I can see). A happy, robust teenager in all critical aspects.

But, I think to keep him 'safe' I will need to prepare a special 'flu' kit to take to college: Antiseptic hand wash is a must, and quite fashionable these days. Also, a surgical mask to wear just in case his entire freshman engineering class comes down with the bug - only in that dire circumstance would he consider wearing it. And last, but not least, a huge supply of powdered vitamin C concentrate. It may be no more effective than the mouthful of vodka before bed that was my freshman antidote to all disease, but it's bound to cause fewer side effects.

Woodstock Memories

Thoughts after watching 'Woodstock, Then And Now' ...

Proximity - I was far away in California and just a little too young for my parents to allow me the freedom to cross the country without them, but I am not sure I would have gone anyway. If I had heard, as many did, that the roads were packed and it was impossible to get through, I doubt I would have tried. I may have been in that generation, but I didn't share the need to congregate in large numbers. To me that was Lemming, not Communal, behavior. My loss as it turns out, although I've seen enough of the festival on film that I almost feel 'muddy'. As noted in the documentary many who've seen the film actually think they were present on Yasgur's Farm. It's true, my filmic memories are almost real, and that's appropriate for the first generation raised on TV. I still share, though, with most of my brother and sister children of the 60s, that nagging feeling that I should have been there, at the one time that young humans proved in mass they could do something better than their parents, than the 'establishment'.

Genius - It's easy to get carried away as a fan and think your particular musical 'God' is the highest of the high. Time usually rips the rosy scales off eyes and restores critical balance. Not so when it comes to Jimi Hendrix. If anything, the talent shining forth on that last Woodstock day is even more astounding when viewed today. Has anyone ever played a guitar with such integration of hand and wood, of strings and heart?

Age - We are all deniers of death and the growing weight of years. The 'Woodstock' Generation has taken this to great heights, avidly seeking the services of plastic surgeons and fitness gurus to rage against the dying of the light. Interesting then, to see how many of the particulars of the Woodstock saga have faired. Some have aged into a different look entirely, with just a family resemblance to their younger selves. Others look familiar, only ravaged a bit. A few look eerily identical, with just a gray hair here and a jowl there to give away the game. Of course, many have passed on, some early from pursuit of the Aquarian pleasures of the time, most from all the common and tragic ills and risks that beset us. I know that watching the documentary took me back to that Drive-In at which I first saw the original film. To the time I saw Alvin Lee 40 feet high, fingers blazing and singing about 'Goin' Home'. It connected me to my young self, yet reinforced the gulf of time.

Inferno

A Saturday in August would normally be a perfect day for riding a motorcycle in the mountains east of Los Angeles. The summer temps heightening traction if you felt like rolling it on. The cooler heights promising some relief when you got there.

But the temps on Angeles Crest Highway, Big Tujunga Road, and the Angeles Forest Highway were out of control today, all three blocked by raging fires and so much like one of the circles of Hell that Dante himself would be convinced.

Moving along the freeway section of Highway 2, aiming towards La Canada and the mountains, all I could see were towering, billowing clouds of smoke and ash, resembling a volcanic eruption, Mt. St. Helen's style.

Since all of my usual paths were closed, I charted a course out Little Tujunga Road, and on through the northern canyons to the Rock Inn at Lake Hughes. As I made my way along technical and involving Little Tujunga, the fires looked far away. But the smoke grew close at times farther along the ride, getting so thick with angry reds and blacks mixed in the gray that I appeared to be riding toward some outer wall of hell. Each time I got close enough to consider turning around the road would bend and send me off towards clearer skies.

The time at the Rock Inn was as pleasant as ever, only with fewer bikes and riders than a normal Saturday would show. The return ride was fine too - that is, until I returned to Little Tujunga.

In the short time since I'd passed that way, the fires had moved closer and the authorities had closed the road. A friendly CHP cruiser was parked across my chosen path, forcing a detour over to Highway 14. Looking hard in the distance I couldn't see any fires or smoke, but the officer was insistent.

The humdrum freeway detour towards home was filled with sights of burning hillsides and flames visible in broad daylight that must have been 50 feet high. Fire-lines crept visibly closer towards homes and the wind was picking up.

An Inferno. One that wasn't through - that perhaps had only begun.

Air Time

John Denver once sang, 'It's a Long Way from LA to Denver. It's a Long Time to Hang in the Sky' (Starwood in Aspen).

He didn't know the half of it...

Try 14 hours LA to Sydney - and 13 back.

Even for the lucky few ensconced in their luxury first class 'pods', that much time on an airplane is a chore. For those of us in the 'herd' corralled in economy, it's like hanging on the outskirts of purgatory peering at hell.

Or, it would be, if the flight attendants weren't so nice, and if their airline wasn't thoughtful enough to supply sufficient movies, TV, and games to keep you distracted.

At any given moment of the flight, even we peons had plenty to watch and to drink. Eating, though, was more challenging and sporadic outside the two meals served, unless you craved 'cornsticks' and cookies. I managed to stow away a reasonable tonnage of those items, so I remained satisfied, but I saw others contemplating the 'snack rack' and ultimately deciding their long-term health was more important than short-term hunger. Everyone has their priorities.

One new item of amusement I'd never seen before was the 'skycam'. It was a camera perched on the tail of our plane - a relatively new Airbus 380, and it gave an interesting view of takeoff and landing. In the middle of the night, if you needed reassurance that all was well, checking the skycam provided a comforting view of a blinking light in the darkness, each blink like the zap of a pacemaker letting us know the plane (and we) were alive and well.

One familiar item I glanced at - then avoided like the plague - was the 'flight path' map. Knowing I was flying with my fellow passengers over so much uninhabited ocean made me feel vulnerable. I've seen Lost (and didn't like it). Of course, you are just as 'vulnerable' when flying over land, but at a lower gut level the difference was keenly felt.

As our plane lifted off from Sydney, I caught a glimpse of fires burning outside the city. The smoke was white, so I'd like to think they were controlled burns, but you never know, Sydney was windy. We arrived at Los Angeles flying over and through the haze from fires, none controlled, burning in the mountains east of the city. When I got home and checked the news I found that one of the fires was wrecking havoc along one of my favorite motorcycling roads.

I also learned that another 'Goodbye' was in order, for Edward 'Ted' Kennedy.

Sad sights and sadder news to end such a long time in the air ...

News You Can Use (If you pay for it)

Inside the business section of a local Sydney paper I found a tiny article on a big subject: how can newspapers survive the digital age? Homeboy Rupert Murdoch thinks he knows the answer to that angst-inducing query.

Apparently, the mega-mogul is rounding up a consortium of paper media concerns with on-line presence, with the goal of orchestrating a near-simultaneous roll-out of pay-for-view. He wants all on-line 'newspapers' to charge for access to content, and he wants them to do it in lock-step to give the customer no choice but to pony up.

I can see the logic in it. And the panic. Newspapers are losing subscribers faster than the tundra is thawing in Nome. Worse still, advertisers have flown the coup seeking cheaper venues in these recessionary times. Meanwhile, more and more (read: millions) are now getting at least some of their news on-line, and not paying a dime.

So why not make them pay a little for the privilege and convenience?

That's a reasonable question, but it bothers me that Rupert Murdoch is attempting the answer. If there were anyone on this planet I'd rather NOT have leading this charge, it's the Mandarin from Down Under. Having single-handedly reduced the diversity in printed and televised news by buying up damn near everything he could, why should anyone trust Mr. Monopoly with this initiative?

It may be inevitable that internet news be a mix of free and pay-to-view, but that balance will be delicate, and needs an unbiased guide to its fruition. Mr. Murdoch is about as biased as you can get.

Babbleocity 25 (Live From Sydney)

On the road in Sydney, Australia ...

The 'Sybility' of Sydney - I was prepared for something entirely different, but this city has surprised me with it's vigor and variety. The place is positively bustling and seems determined to pack a piece of every interesting city on Earth into it's lovely spaces. If pushed to compare Sydney to anywhere else, I'd reply it was a mix of Seattle and San Francisco, with a seasoning of New York and a touch of Portland, Oregon. Add to that recipe a laid back Southern California feel and you'd just about have it. Of course, although it can be thought of as a city of many personalities, it has its own character - an international hub where vibrant Asian culture meets the best of Australia, the Americas, and Europe.

Two wheels down under - My impression that Sydney was spiritually connected to San Francisco was further heightened by the amount of motorcycles and scooters tooling about the town. Anyone who has visited our 'City By The Bay' has noted how many of its denizens make their way on two wheels. The same is true here. And the connection is even cannier: In San Francisco Ducatis dominate the motorcycle scenery, especially the 'Monster' models. These distinctive machines make up a significant percentage here too. You may or may not love their motorcycles (I do), but you have to give it to the Italians - they know how to spread the love around...

All creatures great and weird - My early years were spent in academic pursuit of biological knowledge. Life and time has taken me in other directions, but I've maintained an interest through hobbies like SCUBA diving, and through the maintenance of a variety of unusual pets over the years. Visiting Australia has reinforced that interest. One of the first sights on arriving was a couple of sulfur-crested cockatoos feeding on a lawn. Not in captivity, but free to fly where they will. Another odd sight was my first live look at a platypus. Actually two of the oddball but engaging creatures were on display at the Sydney Aquarium, along with a saltwater crocodile (Steve Irwin was truly brave and nuts), some nice sharks and rays, and a pair of dugongs, the saltwater versions of manatees. The dugongs truly floored me with their unexpected beauty. Much sleeker and with more dolphin-like tails than manatees, they moved with fluid grace but still had the sad and soulful look of their freshwater cousins. Well worth a long look if you are visiting.