you know those times the phone rings... 12.30
and say that perhaps the world around you's still quiet, some time around dark thirty, that phone rings, and you just know...
ourowndarnself winging our way to the desert southwest this morn, certain the new year has some suprises in store for nosotros. Wish us Buona Fortuna, will ya lads & lasses, as we gonna need it in a Big Way.
in case you missed it... 12.29 greetings & a holiday wish for peace from Yoko;
from Stumpy D & the environy crew, Bush in 30 Seconds LIVE. yourstruly's beginning to think he livin' on the wrong coast, then again, sitting in the audience at the Freight & Salvage last night enjoying the melodic wonderfulness of the David Grisman Bluegrass Experience, well, life don't get much better than that, OH, and by the way, they'll be at the Sweetwater tonight...
don't know 'bout youse guys... 12.26
but ourowndarnself be Mighty Glad that the holiday's now behind us.
okay, linkage related to local environs, courtesy the NYT: 36 Hours in Oakland CA; egads! if datz ALL they could find to do in Oaktown in 36 hours, their big mistake was not contacting El Chango Tonto hisowndarnself for guided tour and datz da truut, Rooth...
we sorry to hear that the folks behind Oaktown Underground are ceasing operations in the New Year, but longtime web-logger Peter Merholz's group effort Beast Blog will do in a pinch. Great big chunk of linky goodness there right now, that live cam atop the L.H.S. site in the Berkeley Hills...
by the way, respondent numero quatro has the right idea: How Do You Relieve Holiday Stress?
what l'Marquis really wants for Xmas... 12.25
won't be arriving until November of 2004, and he's gonna have to be A Very Good Boy until then, but for now we settle for the fact of knowing those dearest to us are presently en famille, sharing the warmth, sharing their joy, sharing the home cooking (what ourowndarnself misses the most) within the walls of la casita de mi Mama y Papa. Feliz Navidad a todos ustedes! special holiday greeting for you here, some patience is required, let that wav load or click image for the mp.3 and woofwoofwoof along with your own furry companion...
just a leeeetle heads up... 12.24
Chinese New Year coming January 22nd,
and 2004 be the Year of the Monkey;
ourowndarnself's lunar sign be that of the Dragon,
you can find out what yours is by visiting here...
ooo--OOOO---ooohhhh...
from the New Yorker on-line: The Film File;
nice bunch of reviews out of the pages of the New Yorker,
for those times you're sitting at home and wondering what it is you ought to be picking up the next time you visit your fave video emporium;
some related linky goodness, from the Village Voice,
the Voice Film Critics Best of 2003.
unenlightened management practices...
have a pretty sizeable contingent of advertising professsionals on board here today, whereas they could have held a lottery to choose the lucky individuals to get some additional time off and away to enjoy (is that the right word Binky? Hah! don' thin' so Lucy...) the madness afoot at this time of year, but alas, No, and yessssss, we are seeking out your sympathy, thank ya vurry much...
okay, in the spirit of the day & courtesy of the fine mind behind the scenes at Milov.nl, memetree (link this page), also fine monkey-kine linky goodness: monkeyradio.org; what the heeeeyyy... it not be TOO Late for some anti-Xmas sentiment, far as ourowndarnself's concerned: Anti-Xmas Cards which are a nice alternative to those we linked to earlier this month,
here again by popular (oh Yah!) demand, Apoplectic Press' Anti Christmas Cards... anti Xmas linkage is our attempt to provide a Fair & Balanced holiday outlook, Bah Humbugg...
on a (much) more thoughtful note...
we point you in the direction of Harly Sorenson's column,
and if you overlooked the link to Dr. Bezruchka's lecture,
it be right here...
not exactly an exercise in futility...
and no, not referring to our online presence hereabouts, although we've become aware that easily in excess of 60-70% of our visitors these days come from the good Dr. Menlo's S.L.A., no doubt many of them are disheartened to discover the usual mishmash of folly & frivolity here rather than more exotic attractions...
in particular though, our mention of futility above has to do with a recommendation we are about to pass along to you, something we viewed in the comfort of chez d'Monquis on DVD, part of a series of releases described "Celebration of Chinese Cinema"; the film viewed is Red River Valley, and oh dear, yesssss, we are quite aware of how difficult it usually is to find fare like this available in most folk's local video emporia, although some of you might try your luck with Green Cine, or, if you happen to have the $$ to spare and the inclination to collect interesting things to watch and share with your friends and family, you could visit Facets Multimedia, a company yourstruly did much business with years ago when employed as video store manager
(look for their foreign film section and then select the Asian Cinema category). Beautifully shot, set in Tibet, the story is based on Peter Fleming book Bayonets to Lhasa; in brief, a wonderful romantic tale wrapped around an adventure story/historical epic and while it likely an instrument of Mainland China propaganda, nevertheless is an enjoyable diversion, a really grand tale and so thrilling to be taken to another world, another time, subtitles a minor price to pay.
Saw a few other things over the weekend as well, and as this be the holiday season, and many of you entertaining relatives and visitors, seeking diversion and entertainment, perhaps we'll return now & again to mention some other options, you know, beyond those major studio blockbusters just waiting for you at your local multi-plex, but for now, adieu, katz & kitteeezzz...
tonight, on most PBS stations... 12.19 Now with Bill Moyers, Walmart and the World; Tivo it, Tape it, maybe stay home with someone you love
and watch the damned thing, oh yah, we know,
"but it's Friday Night monkeydude, time to paaarrr-rrrrty!"
okay, then, before you run off into hedonistic indulgence, Jon Carroll's column from today's fishwrap,
and the bright light that is Molly Ivins;
otra cosa mas, jessferdahalibut,
from the New Yorker on-line, Nicholas Lehmann's Jan '01 piece, Letter from Washington: The Iraq Factor
merci, merci boucoup...
to G. Armstrong for her reminder of the thing
beyond all of the hubbub, noise & commercialism... and yea, verily, we know precisely the sort
of bookstore she's describing in that initial paragraph...
an interesting weekend... 12.16
to say the least, nothing hugely notable, just a couple of things that have come along and put ourowndarnself in a more contemplative frame of mind. One thing, the obvious one more likely, is that news from Iraq about you-know-who and a "spider hole" or some such. l'Marquis has had a few inquiries sent his way, folks curious about our take on the whole business, and at the moment, we'll be merciful and leave off our own opinions, but we will point you in the direction of Joan Ryan's column in the S.F. Chronicle, much of which we concur with wholeheartedly. The other thing we want to share here and now is an item we found on-line, from some years ago, McNeil Lehrer Report (now the PBS Newshour), an interview w/N. Chomsky and James Woolsey. Some other interesting things have been passed along to us lately, many of which we'll likely share with you here later...
Peace on Earth & Goodwill Towards All Mankind?
oh yaahhh, let me have some of what you been smokin' Binky, okay?
some of us are less than enamored of all this joyeaux noel kind of stuff,
and we apologize for getting this out to you so late, nevertheless,
from the fine & slightly deranged minds at Apoplectic Press, some holiday greeting cards unlike the typical...
l'Marquis likes to write letters... 12.11
although these days, most of that impulse is addressed via e-mail, but in days of yore, oh, yourstruly was a formidable correspondent, yea, verily...
so what's that got to do with anything? oh, not sure, but we did fire off an e-mail the other morning re our disappointment at not seeing any mention of Father Bill O'Donnell's death in "The Voice of the West", the local fishwrap known as the San Francisco Chronicle. Please keep in mind we not saying it was our letter did the trick, likely several others fired off in their direction, but today we want to say "Muchas Gracias" to Stephanie Salter (who should still be writing a regular column in the fishwrap, thank you very much) for her laudable effort published in today's obituaries, Bill O'Donnell, social activist, Catholic priest. When we mentioned his passing earlier this week, we also linked to a google search for Father O'Donnell, here we decided to add a couple of choice items we discovered via that search: A Truly Turbulent Priest from the Independent.co.uk; ...activist priest prepares for longest incarceration from the School of the Americas Watch; also by Stephanie Salter, from Common Dreams, And Those Who Trespass. That's
enough, you all know how to find more, right? Una cosa mas, for those locals who would like to celebrate the man's life,
this next item courtesy Flashpoints, announcement of memorial services and funeral mass for Father Bill O'Donnell.
This is then the revolutionary situation: to be revolutionary is to judge the world by its present state, by actual facts, in the name of a truth which does not yet exist (but which is coming) - and it is to do so, because we believe this truth to be more genuine and more real than the reality which surrounds us.
from The Presence of the Kingdom, by Jacques Ellul, 1948
okay, so after a few early morn wakeups...
in conjunction w/late night hi-jinks, yourstruly was comfortably ensconsced upon the living room sofa, watching PBS Newshour (well, it was the last thing we remembered watching) then next thing we know, we wake up and it's after 11, and maybe it was the sound of the rain falling outside, one of our favorite sounds, that allowed us to slumber so deeply, who knows, so, what the heck, off with the lights, off with the box and off to bed, where dreams manifested via well rested slumber began appearing, one in particular had ourowndarnself amidst large group of family members and friends of our Popz, including Killer, Roger, Bert, McAdoo and other members of his Mexican Mafia; we are all in line to buy tickets for admission to Carlsbad Caverns
with the ever responsible l'Marquis at the head of the line, uniformed Ranger asks "How many tickets, Sir?" and while trying to get a count, the rowdies in the the group of family & friends offering up different numbers, ourowndamnself trying to count spouses and children and all the others, oh, it be loud and raucous so after a few minutes of this the Ranger announces he's had enough and we are banned from the park as "we don't allow no rowdy Mexicans in the park", my Pop's pal Killer pipes up "Who you calling a Mexican you Asshole, I'm an American Citizen" oh and then all hell broke loose, but nothing compared to the next phase of the dream when we were all in line at Noah's Bagels...
l'Marquis would prefer to avoid becoming... 12.10
a One Note Johnny today, but it ain't bloody likely;
from the Village Voice, The Bodies Come Home. but hey, didn't he look great serving up that turkey dinner?
and do not miss the opportunity to pull up a stool at Whisky Bar,
get the lowdown on the Good News on the Economy!; find out why we Musn't Let Them Have the Precious!; ask yourself Is Osama Winning?; learn about the voodoo that is Arnoldnomics and More! Damn,
good and good for you and won't cost anything but a little of your time...
ourowndamnself's dangerously close to...
goin' all pottymouthed here, oh wotdahell---
more fucking unbelievable cad-ministration bullshit... sorry, Father Bill, but we'd wager you'd feel the same way;
thanks to the wizard behind the curtains at dubya for the heads up...
oh, and more ugly news from Afghanistan; oh, goddess have mercy, divert me from the dark path...
l'Marquis happens to be a lapsed Catholic...
oh yah, WAY lapsed, okay, and none too sentimental about the ol' church and its ways (or those of many other organized religions either) ahhh, but we digress there, momentarily, as what we want to make note of here is the passing of a good man, someone with the strength of conviction to lay himself on the line, time and time again.
Ourowndamnself bows deeply, tippin' da ol' red fez to Father Bill O'Donnell.
brief aside here: okay, nearly four years ago we saw the braying jackass hi-jack the ship of state and proceed to run it upon the shoals of avarice and un-enlightened self interest; here recently the citizens of Kalifa have chosen to elect an untalented muscle head to conduct business as their governor, and mind you, this is a man who can barely manage to avoid mangling the english language, spends weeks learning a single page of script, and has a documented penchant for less than gentlemanly behavior (a LOT less). Now, the empty suit (but extremely deep pocketed empty suit) known as G. Newsom assumes the mantle of Mayor of the City of San Francisco. Need we any more proof that if it is not the Apocalypse upon us, we be getting awfully close to welcoming its arrival with open arms...
might be time to spend some serious elbow bending efforts at our local tavern, Really Soon...
She took the ironed clothes on hangers upstairs, then put the ironing board and basket of waiting clothes in the wash room. I got the ball game on the radio and sat at the kitchen table with the Boston Globe while she looked for ther big pot and found it and put it on the stove. I skimmed the news stories I couldn't believe while I told her Hank had written only a page, he had quit smoking, we had had a good run, drunk some beer, and he had loaned me forty dollars. She was happy about the money, but she said very seriously we must be sure to pay him back, ten dollars a payday till it was done. All this time I was following the ball game and getting through the news about Nixon and the war, getting to those stories I could believe: a man winning a tobacco spitting contest; a woman and her son drowning, taken into the sea by waves on the coast of Maine; the baseball news. I could also believe all stories about evil. I was accustomed to lies from the government and the press, and I never believed them when they spoke with hope or comfort. So I believed all stories of lies, atrocity, and corruption, for they seemed to be the truth that I was rarely told and that I was waiting for. I knew that my vision was as distorted as the vision of those who lied, but I saw no way out. When I finished the paper, I started to tell Terry about the fish man, but with the first word already shaping my lips I stopped.
In a marriage there are all sorts of lies whose malignancy slowly kills everything, and that day I was running the gamut from the outright lie of adultery to the careful selectivity which comes when there are things that two people can no longer talk about. It is hard to say which kills faster but I would guess selectivity, because it is a surrender: you avoid touching wounds and therefore avoid touching the heart. If I told her the story, she would see it as a devious way of getting at her: the man's cooking would be the part of me she smothered; Hank's buying the seafood platter would be my rebellion. And she would be right. So I treated our disease with aspirins, I weaved my conversation around us, and all the time I knew with a taste of despair that I was stuck forever with this easy, lying pose; that with the decay of years I had slipped gradually into it, as into death, and that now at the end of those years and the beginning of all the years to come I had lost all dedication to honesty between us. Yet sometimes when I was alone and away from the house, always for this to happen I had to be away from the house, driving perhaps on a day of sunlight and green trees and rolling meadows, I would hear a song from another time and I could weep (but did not) for the time when I loved her every day and came up the walk in the afternoons happy to see her, days when I never had to think before I spoke. As we ate lobsters and drank wine we listened to the ball game.
last night yourstruly had the opportunity to watch Alison Krause and Union Station on a country music channel available on our local cable service. Such a fine bunch of musicians, and Jerry Douglas, oh man, a dobro player without peer. This morning on the way into the city, yourstruly was reading story from a collection entitled Separate Flights, authored by Andre Dubus, published years ago, copyright date is 1975. In reading the story we were reminded of something we've been intending to address for some little while, something having to do with mastery of a form, of a skill, how sometimes reading a particular phrase, perhaps from a novel or short story, perhaps a verse in a poem, how sometimes you find yourself immediately moved, perhaps only slightly choked up, maybe discovering your eyes welling with tears. Remembered watching J. Douglas last night, that talent on display, so confidently in command of his instrument, leaving very little doubt of his mastery. We've mentioned A. Dubus on this little effort of ours before, in our not so humble opinion someone with a mastery of the short story form, and not just the weaving of a story, but someone whose perceptions grace his tale with something that resonates fundamentally with his knowledge of human nature & caprice, our joys and sorrows, our righteous behaviors, our embaressing ones. Any of you unfamiliar with Mr. Dubus might seek out his Selected Stories, and please forgive us our pomposity when we say we think your life might be richer for it...
ourowndamnself has to wonder... 12.8 Transvestite Potter Wins Turner Prize in Art;
okay, fine, but what does his being a tranvestite have to do with anything? Way to go Claire!
great lovely moon in last night's sky...
the air so magnificently clear, ourself awake in the wee hours, had to step outside and appreciate the sight of our moonlit neighborhood, despite the chill in the air...
okay, Arigato to the fine mind at shikencho;
cruelty, thy name is monobrow...
okay, this be a minor pet peeve, these Weblog Award kind of affairs, and, ohhh... granted, we haven't spent very much time in a careful perusal of the selections made there, but in that one category of "Best Overall Blog" including both Kottke AND Megnut, uhhhhh... sorry, l'Marquis must disagree, my goodness, there is no mention of wood s lot, or the wonderfulness that is Plep, and Ethel's not even included in Best Liberal Blog (sorry Esteban, putting you in same basket we largely consider ourowndamnself in) nor is there mention of K. Murphy's GITM; oh well, enough said, we like to think folks still make up their own minds about this kind of thing, regardless... everybody here deserves award far as we be concerned, & there'd be a heckuvalot more of 'em, if the minions would get to work and update the damn page...
"well, i'll be dumbmonkey's uncle..." 12.7
wait a minnit! We izza dumbmonkey's uncle, several of 'em...
oh, nevermind... here we are on a sunday Am, had ourselves nice conversation with gal pal on the other coast, she busy in her studio creating glass bead goodness but not too busy to offer up a few words of cheer for her bud on the left coast, then we attending to catching up on some of the correspondence the minions left in the in box for yourstruly to deal with; some reference in one of those letters re what was that musing-about-relationships thing in an earlier post this month had us going back to re-read what we had said (nothing of import, as usual) and then, while checking out linkage on the post immediately previous we discover that Cody's has updated their website, and we not foolish (Oh, yessss we are!) enough to think that the letter we wrote them on the day of L. Garchik's item had anything to do with it, it very likely they got many letter saying "HEY, etc. etc.", anyway, there it is boyz und gurlz, we cannot think of a better stocking stuffer to give to those woefully ignorant and bothersome relatives on your holiday shoppping list than personal aside to those of you who are familiar with my intense dislike and lack of respect for the braying jackass currently residing in the white house; No, yourstuly doesn't want to see him in a box, not yet, not before he has had some opportunity to appreciate being reviled and uniformly despised, we just want to see him OUT OF THE WHITE HOUSE...
oh, Oh, OH, looky here, pics from the Further tour/Pranksters event
at Cody's we wuz pissin' & moanin' 'bout missing recently...
whilst mining the riches that abound...
in the outermost reaches of autreblog, we found this:
Go to Google,
type in:
“miserable failure”
and hit:
"I’m feeling lucky!"
Since neither ‘miserable’ or ‘failure’ appear anywhere on the page or in the source, I think someone at Google must be having a good laugh on ol' Curious George's nickel... & someone please toss a life ring out to the m a n o v e r b o a r d, will ya...
& by the way,
you don't even have to use the I'm Feeling Lucky option...
there's a movie out about this guy... 12.5
yesssireee, a very Bad Santa, Ho Ho Holy Shit!;
in a similiar holiday spirit, from last year,
(tho' a bit later in that year) Does Santa Claus Exist?
for somebody who grew up in the...
West Texass desert, rain is a welcome thing, and seldom the kind of thing that would affect our equilibrium in a negative fashion. Stopping by here yesterday you'd have noticed our minor surprise at the rainy day we encountered,
so we had to laugh when we finally settled down late in the day to read the paper and noticed somebody else hadn't been counting on rain either; rained thruout the night and yourstruly sleeping so soundly we found ourself in minor state of shock when waking to discover it be fifteen minutes before we usually leave chez d'monquis to head into the city & the j-o-b. "Sacre Bleu!" we cried, showered quickly, downed yesterday's leftover microwaved coffee and got our butt out the door toute suite...
from the current New Yorker (issue of 12.8),
the Rev. Al Green returns, and ourself being a longtime fan,
we be mightily greatful for the magic that is Number Nine
wasn't really expecting rain... 12.4
on our day off, but whatdahey...
instead of miscellaneous chores & working in the yard, ourowndarnself slept in, spent time in one of our fave bookstores, picked up delish (Yum!) pizza from nearby Cheeseboard Collective pizza outlet, retrieved the mail (thanks for the postcard S.J.G., young fella indeed!) and
now, whilst stopping briefly to check some news, share these items that caught l'Marquis' eye,
both from the L.A. Times: more not so usual holiday shopping suggestions; repercussions of this accident might be much worse if the sponsor had been Viagra...
oh, making new friends is so much fun... y muchas gracias a mi amiga Euphorbita para esta cosa muy suave! Si quieres hacer uno vaya a esta lugar aqui;
now we'll leave off our little experiment in bilingualism as l'Marquis has nearly exhausted his vocabulario español (well, unless we found ourselves in a cantina somewhere seeking liquid refreshment and a bowl of frijoles)...
a minor caveat: the text window on some of the image options is a little misleading as to the number of characters allowed...
we have only one question for you, Binky... 12.3
first, take a long look at these staggering numbers:
Total U.S. military spending the Bush Administration projects
it will have spent by the end of 2008: $3,200,000,000,000;
Total U.S. military spending between 1941 and 1948: $3,100,000,000,000.
and now, knowing that, do you feel any safer, Binky? w/a tip o' da'ol red fez to Mark of wood s lot for providing the heads up to that Harper's link.
only twenty-one more shopping days left... 12.3
Whoa!
sorry, don't know what got into us...
from the fine retail shopping minds at Scientific American,
their suggested Top Sci/Tech Gifts for 2003.
plus extra value added linky goodness bonus: fine foto courtesy APOD
"Worry less. But worry still."
from the Village Voice, Attention, Wal-Mart Voters;
oh, how yourstruly wants to get his hopes up, yet dares not,
having had hope dashed far too often already...
when it comes to relationships...
yourstruly has been thinking of settling down lately - -
HAH! and monkeys might fly out of my butt!
no, truly, ourowndarnself been awfully fond of doin' that brief fling thing now & again, with the occasional joyous re-union for fling #2 or #3, definitely not an evolutionary strategy that pans out in the long run, but what the hell, s'fun while it lasts. so what in the hell is he goin' on about now, Clarabelle? Oh, well, we think we know where we might be classified in terms of these specific categories, yet allow us to reassure you, to know l'Marquis is to love l'Marquis... Dr. Kruger's Univ. of Michigan site
& from that site: Dads & Cads: Alternative Mating Strategies...
outta the pages of our beloved fishwrap... Leah Garchik provides info re fine gift item available for the book lovers on your holiday shopping list. Visiting Cody's web site, we unable to locate anything specific re ordering or purchasing this item for you folks (see how l'Marquis always thinking of other less fortunate folks?) unable to visit our lovely East Bay environs, but a search for Bush In A Box turns up an item that might make a pretty cool gift itsowndarnself.
Now, while still on the ugliest page in newspaperdom, Big Bad Jon Carroll weighs in on Men Who Love Their Trucks...
Go Big Jon, Go...
three cheers for the blogosphere...
uhhhh, right, we not crazy 'bout that term either,
what we are getting at is our appreciation of hard working blog-folk who manage to keep ourowndarnself aware & attentive, for example, we read a story in the New Yorker last week, thought to ourselves "is it linked on the N.Y.'er site or ?", and we discover, thanks to rc3.org, that can be answered in the affirmative, so here for you,
a must read: Letter from Baghdad: War After the War by George Packer. While we being this appreciative of other folks efforts we want to remind you that you ought to make regular visits to truthout.org and Ethel the Blog for chewy nuggets of linky goodness like this from Molly Ivins, and this from Ethel (who it turns out discovered item via truthout - - and the circle goes round & round, don't it?) personal note to the wizard behind the curtain at Ethel, Holy Jeebus, Esteban...; pass along our sympathies to the U.C.C.
how about a $300 fine... 12.1
for driving while using a cell phone? Maybe one
way to provide some additional dollars during these lean & hungry times for California.
Interesting to see how our cousins across the pond will handle this
hi there...
so, most of you undoubtedly aware it's Decembre,
time flies if you having fun, and we havin' fun, aren't we?
from the wonderfulness that is Jessamyn, viewed during recent visit
to the S.F. Bay environs, Bookplate Collection from SF. Public Library.
in fond memory of Robert Filomeno, the first friend we made when we came to the S.F. Bay area, we must point you in the direction of Stop Global Aids.
the fight against all things unholy that was described as November
y muchas gracias a mi amiga Euphorbita![[Optimized for PinealWeb]](http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~tilt/pinealweb/pineal.gif)