Babbleocity 32: Failure and Authority

When authority becomes absurdity, and absurdity is authorized ...

Pre-authorized to fail - Not content to charge high prices for gasoline, someone (credit card issuers, gasoline distributors, or both) decided to reserve a chunk of your change before you pump a drop. If you pay at the pump, the minute you swipe your card you will be charged as much as $100 dollars. Ostensibly added in response to the rapid rise in gas prices, $100 must be someone's best guess about a maximum fill-up amount. However, they didn't consider massive SUVs, older Hummers, motorhomes, or the odd Bugati Veyron. In any event, this charge will be in addition to whatever amount of fuel you actually dispense, and it will remain on your credit balance sheet for up to two business days (possibly more). At some point the transaction is reconciled and the so-called pre-authorization charge is dropped, but until it is it can play havoc with your ability to use that card if you are near the credit limit. So - if you pay at the pump, be sure you have enough room on your card to absorb those unseen charges, and don't use your card for small fill-ups - use cash instead. How silly would it be to swipe a credit card for 2 gallons - say $6 worth, and have it cost you - if just temporarily, $106 ...

Failure of Authority - President Obama staged his open back-room meeting on Health Care Reform with the Republicans, hoping (we can assume) the public exposure of the GOP's foot-dragging and nay-saying ways on the issue would be apparent to voters. Unfortunately, he forgot a salient point, the non-persistent of public memory. At most the American voter will remember that John McCain thinks he's still campaigning and Barack Obama is handy with a comeback. The rest of the exercise just served to remind us how inadequately we are represented in Congress, by both parties, something no politician including the President wants. But we'll forget that reminder too.

Failure Not Authorized (Or Expected) - Remember way back at the end of the Bush presidency, when our government bailed out banks and brokerage firms with so-called Troubled Asset Relief Program (TARP) money? Sure you do. Do you also remember the restrictions on executive pay and bonuses the Obama administration affixed to those funds? Of course you do. Well, those funds were meant to stabilize banks and brokerages so they could continue to operate the nation's financial system - most importantly continue lending money to fuel our credit-driven economy. Sadly, the strings attached made those funds seem more toxic than the troubled assets, with the result the biggest institutions have already paid the money back to gain their freedom. In doing so they used the very funds they were supposed to pour back into the economy. As a result, the intention of TARP seems to have failed miserably. But, even the best laid plans gang aft agley. And, as my junior high science teacher liked to say, those plans were laid, "like my grandmother lays bricks", which is to say, not very well at all.

LA Treasures: Rod Smear

Los Angeles is a sprawling, messy city. It's not easy to see and understand what this place has to offer, except perhaps the weather and a chance to see movie stars (but those are harder to find these days).

But don't be fooled, LA has as much if not more to offer the observant, active resident as any other major city. One sort of treasure LA offers is a wealth of talented musical performers.

Given the hard economic times, these performers are somewhat more difficult to find, but they are here. One of my personal favorites is long-time Los Angeles resident and local performance legend, Rod Smear.

I first saw Rod perform at the now-defunct Highland Grounds (aka HG), at one of that spot's famous open mike nights. I couldn't believe what I was seeing or hearing. Whether I was witnessing a madman or a genius wasn't immediately apparent, but soon became so.

Rod Smear is a genuine genius, just eccentric as most geniuses tend to be. He has a distinct musical style, with percussive guitar under almost sweet vocals, all of it delivered as I imagine a true poet might.

Wit, sarcasm, irony - even a dash or two of anger, mix with uplift and whimsy in his songs.

Over the years I came to base my review of a night at HG on whether Rod performed or not. The nights he played were always the best, especially when he took his performances into unknown territory, taking big chances but always pulling it off to the audience's delight. Luckily for HG, Rod was a fixture and a fundament of the scene.

Of course all good things do come to an end, and Highland Grounds is no more. It's old location is occupied now by a trendy eatery called 'Street'. I've been there and the food's excellent, but there is no live music, and no Rod Smear or his many compatriots that filled those walls with sound and meaning for so many years.

With HG's going, a vibrant scene in LA music disappeared. Hundreds of performers, including dozens of extremely talented ones like Rod, moved on. A very few with commercial potential have gone on to larger fame, most others have simply tried to find new places to play.

Rod Smear can be seen live at Canter's most Sunday evenings. And you can occasionally find performances on the web. He also has a CD of songs called 'Dot' that's been out for years, but is worth tracking down (it's on Amazon). Rod will tell you he's not enamored of it, but that's just because it's a polished effort, and doesn't completely reflect the ragged but captivating vibe of his live performances. His songs on that CD are wonderful, though, and add to his live performances in reflecting the full scope of his talent.

Rod in HG's patio,

pre-performance

Quiet Night

It was raining and J____ wasn't in the mood for work. The fire was beckoning and La Fin Du Monde was chilling in the fridge.

But there was no getting around it. He would have to go out again and complete his assigned goals. The vast sprawl of Los Angeles awaited, and he'd soon be out there in the thick of it, searching.

Lately, since Montreal, he'd thought about questioning his superiors, but no, that just wasn't him. It wasn't his place to make the plans that balanced the world's fate. It was more than enough just to understand and meet his goals, and to enjoy what time was left.

Opening the fridge, he looked glumly at the bottle of beer he'd been saving. He'd found a local (surprise!) vendor and stocked up, but only the one remained.

Perhaps tomorrow there would be time to savour it.

Polistacy

Watching 'Frost/Nixon' on TV this evening, I was struck by the awareness that much of my lifetime has been underscored by the failure of those we count on for leadership.

I was born under Eisenhower, but was first aware of Kennedy. He'd barely begun before it was all over. Then came Johnson who stumbled on Vietnam. Nixon came then, and we all know how well that went.

Ford was a joke, then came Carter, who was heralded almost as much as Obama, but proved to be a inept administrator. Reagan followed, who busted the unions and assaulted the middle class, and may have been viewed as a miserable mess, but was rescued by the computer revolution and the fall of the Soviet Union.

Bush senior followed and began the Iraq conflict, and Junior got us into all kinds of extra trouble. In the middle, Clinton did next to nothing except embarrass us all with his personal issues, giving free reign to the critics.

Obama comes along with hope for reason and intelligence, but one year into it we've no resolution to health care or any other worrying issue.

It's been said we have the leadership we deserve, meaning we are such jerks we shouldn't expect more than we've received so far. I fervently hope this is wrong and we - or at least our kids - get the leadership they need.

Share The Road

As a long-time motorcyclist, I have become accustomed to invisibility. That is, I've grown to expect I am essentially invisible to every other road-going vehicle. (Except Cops, but that's another story.)

No matter how brightly colored are my jacket and helmet; no matter how intense are my headlights (permanently on); no matter how unmistakably beautiful and distinctive is my ride, people always try to park on me as if all 600 plus pounds of man and machine simply weren't there.

Like I said, I've become accustomed to this. I've made the assumption of invisibility the cornerstone of my riding discipline. Most riders who live to be older riders, kneecaps and collarbones (relatively) intact, have made this adjustment.

Surprising then, but hugely pleasant to see, was one of those 'Amber Alert' signs with the message 'Share the Road; Be Aware of Motorcycles' right here in Los Angeles. In fact, I saw multiple such signs.

Maybe this denotes a sea change in local policy, sort of "if we can't beat 'em, protect 'em?" Maybe it's part of an investigation - reportedly taking place right here in LA - of the causes of motorcycle accidents and injuries; an investigation designed to update the famous and incredibly aptly named 'Hurt Report', which was done way back in the 1980s, long before cell phones, GPS light shows, and texting were added to being drunk, stoned, or stupid as reasons for distracted driving.

Maybe, but whatever the reason, it's a good thing to see. Especially on the freeways here in SoCal where it is legal (or at least not illegal) to split traffic on your bike, or 'share lanes' as it is more nicely called. Irritated and distracted car drivers stuck in traffic (thus fully earning the tag 'cagers' given them by bikers), do sometimes act like caged animals, striking out at two-wheelers in fits of road rage as the bikes glide past their slowly creeping cars.

Any program that appears to give official approval to motorcycles sharing the road will help with this. So Thank You, CalTrans, CHP, NHTSA, or whomever is behind those signs. Some of us will owe you our lives (or at least our shins).

Babbleocity 31: Where to Start?

I've tried to write something deep and pithy about current events, but every time I look at goings on in our great nation I don't see much depth - or pith.

The shallow and pithless things I've seen may be worth grousing about, but they are so disheartening I just can't write intelligently about them. So instead I think I'll just complain:

Goodbye Health Care? What the heck - everyone in the administration seems to have given up completely on health care. And just about every other piece of legislation too - at least that's the impression one gets from the news. It doesn't help that Democratic Senator Evan Bayh has decided to call it quits and go home, disillusioned. What's up with that? He served through eight years of Bush and NOW he's depressed? Has President Obama really lost control so badly and so soon? It's almost enough to make you want to run Ralph Nader for President. I said almost ...

Usury, Anyone? If anyone needs reminding credit card issuers do NOT have your best interests at heart, just read the blurb about cards with 79% interest rates as reported by creditcards.com and replayed on yahoo news. Seems that some of us have credit ratings in need of rehabilitation. And it seems that one way of doing this is to get another credit card with a very low borrowing limit and a nosebleed-high interest rate. A perfect recipe to leverage that $79 dollar dinner for two into a balance equivalent to a night out in Rome, airfare included. And it's legal, the article said. No mention of amoral or unethical, conniving or evil, all of which seem to fit. Loan shark-ery supported by law. Incredible ...

Toyota's Apologies Recalled? In an unprecedented move, the NHTSA has launched a recall of all of Toyota Motor Company's public apologies, citing dangerous gassiness and oiliness which may have caused hundreds of their customers to become dizzy, slip, fall, and bruise their shins. Just kidding - but the NHTSA should think about it.

OK - I feel a bit better now. Thanks for listening.

Saving Hearts

Bill Clinton has a dicky heart. We know that because it's been in and out of repair since 2004, most recently just this week.

This latest mission into Bill Clinton's inner workings involved running a wire from his groin through an artery all the way up to very near his heart, at which point the tip of the wire was inflated, balloon-like, to prop open the sagging arterial walls and return normal blood flow. Not an unusual procedure for folks who've previously had a coronary bypass. A sort of tune-up, but somewhat dangerous and assuredly expensive, although the former President most likely did not pay out of pocket.

He probably was covered pretty well even during his earlier (circa 2004), riskier, and decidedly pricier quadruple bypass surgery.

Bill Clinton's heart problems began at an age (59) where he didn't qualify for Medicare. Lucky for him he was covered as a former President. It didn't hurt that he was also well-off financially, possibly enough so to afford insurance or the direct cost of care.

But what if the same series of heart issues beginning at the same age faced an average citizen of modest means? Would Joe Average be walking out of the hospital a day after having his artery ballooned and not be facing crippling bills? Or would he be holding on, popping nitro pills and avoiding exercise, horror films, and American Idol finales until old enough for Medicare to kick in?

Affordable or not, at least some of us can get these heart-saving procedures. And we owe that fact to a series of brave (and very bloody) pioneering surgeons. We owe thanks to their patients too, the earliest of whom failed to see their contributions acknowledged, due to their immediate, gory deaths.

Much of this history is related in the BBC production, 'Blood and Guts: A History of Surgery', and specifically the 'Bleeding Hearts' episode, which aired recently on our local public television channels.

The show portrays an interesting developmental arc, from early hurried attempts to fix jumping, twitching, and bleeding hearts before their owners died from blood loss and shock, to the latest where surgeons calmly operate on patients who are all but clinically dead: brain activity undetectable, hearts stopped, with nearly all blood drained from bodies cooled to temperatures usually seen only in morgues, or during night games at Candlestick.

I am certainly grateful to all these pioneers, doctors and patients alike. Quite a few of my remaining older relatives are still here due to bypass surgery. Genetics and a fondness for foods that could clog a whale's aorta mean I will likely need help too, someday.

I just hope I can hold out until Medicare kicks in ...

Predicting the Unpredictable

Before the storm arrived on scene, the meteorologists predicted no more than moderate amounts of rainfall. Light to moderate, actually.

Certainly, not enough to worry well-prepared residents living near the burned out mountainsides left by LA's Station Fire. After all, they'd survived a punishing series of storms just a few weeks before with far less than the predicted damage. And now they had concrete barriers and walls of sandbags, not to mention large debris basins dug by civil engineers, all intended to capture and channel the flow of mud and rocks safely away from homes.

No reason to worry, then. On the local news, reporters interviewed confident residents and officials. And then moved on to other, more newsworthy things, like predicting (again) the death of the health care bill.

But the rains came. And at first they were gentle, as predicted. But then, as if giving LA LA Land the finger just before leaving, the storm unleashed a fearsome fall of water and wind that send hills sliding and boulders rolling. When the rain eased, the damage was everywhere. No one was injured, but homes were lost and lives changed.

Interviewed after the storm, the Chief of the LA County Fire Department, said, "I think it's imperative that everybody understand the unpredictability of predictions."

Thanks, Chief. I feel slightly more optimistic now about death and taxes, the 'Big One', near-Earth asteriods, and the 2012 elections ...

The Argument Sketch

When watching the interplay between congressional Democrats and Republicans, I can't help but cast the dems in the role of the argument seeker and the repubs as the argument giver in the classic Monty Python 'Argument' sketch.

The match is uncanny. In the Python bit, in which a (possibly bureaucratic) service exists that offers an engrossing argument for pay, the seeker wants an argument that entails discussing alternate, well considered positions on subjects. The paid argument giver just wants to negate everything and call it an argument. British-style hilarity ensues. In Congress, the dems seem willing, if not exactly eager, to discuss opposing viewpoints if they offer a way forward. The repubs, like their Python character, just want to say 'No it isn't', or 'No it doesn't', or just plain 'No'. American-style partisanship ensues. But nobody is laughing.

Who knew that way back during President Nixon's first term, some young British (and one American) comic entertainers would get American politics circa 2010 bang on the money? I think it is high time that Monty Python sketches are carefully studied for their prognostic qualities, a bit like Nostradamus. For instance, does the Lumberjack Sketch have anything to say about 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'?

Professor of Pythonistication, anyone?

Poetry Break: Cats on the Wall

Two fat cats, sitting on a Wall

One tried to scratch himself and took a little Fall

He landed on his feet, but before he could recover

The same little accident, happened to the Other

Two cats howling and rolling on the ground,

Better stop your fighting and take a look around.

Dogs and other Dangers are prowling in plain sight

Better get back on that Wall, and fight some other night ...

Moral: In case the message is too subtle: by Cats I mean Democrats and by Dogs and other Dangers I mean Republicans and Fox News, respectively ... (Just Kidding, lawyers from Fox News, it's just a story about two dumb cats who can't scratch and sit on a wall at the same time. Really, it is.)

Trial and Terror

When stacked up against the toughest people on the Earth, New Yorkers typically come in at or very near the top. You have to be tough - not to mention coordinated and multi-tasking, to dodge cabs while reading a newspaper and eating a bagel. And don't get me started about the weather!

So it's surprising to read that New Yorkers don't want to host the 9/11 trials, at least not in Manhattan. Something about the congestion and disruption to business.

NIMBY in New York. Never would of believed it, but then there it is.

Of course, the conservatives in government and the media have fanned the flames of fear, painting images of Manhattan becoming once again target number 1 for Al-Qaeda, if the trials take place there. Who can blame people for not wanting to go through that again?

But I really thought New Yorkers were made of sterner stuff. Who among them would have taken this stance in the days and weeks after 9/11? I don't see any threats, real or imagined by Fox News, daunting the resolve of New Yorkers in the days following the fall of the towers. So it's disappointing to see them shrinking back now. It's a shame they can't support President Obama's decision to try the attackers in a US criminal court.

Of course, I don't have to live there and experience the commotion and disruption the trials will undoubtedly entail.

I would suggest that Obama move the trials to Washington, but what a circus that would be. Plus I am not so sure the beltway could handle any extra congestion.

So my advice to the President and Attorney General Holder is to move the trials to Lincoln, Nebraska. The people there are fearless as they come, and the local airport has got security nailed. I once was stopped and interrogated because my flip-out VW car key looked like a potentially lethal weapon. Good luck to any terrorists trying to slip past with an exploding suppository up their wazoo.