typically dumbmonkey behavior 'round these parts...       5.30.05
had yourstruly a bit upset w/hisowndamnedself, appears we had deleted from immediate reach most of the recent material posted hereabouts. Thank goodness for cached copies. Just when we thought we gettin' a real handle on this webloggin' thing, too. Hey! don't be like that Binky, we just began experimental permalinky kinda thing, one step at a time, alright? It was earlier this morning when the missing month of May material was noticed, and we'd gotten a couple of paras into something we'd been contemplating of late; met up with our screw-up regarding archived stuff, had a wee hissy fit and just got away from this thing and outta doors. Obviously we've regained a bit of our composure, picked up the pieces and decided to move on (even tho' we not entirely sure we still not missing a piece of the may dumbmonkey- c'est la vie, non?
So instead of all the mealymouthed B.S. we'd originally intended to insult you with, perhaps we'll just get right to the point. There are plenty of things buggin' the crap outta el chango tonto these days: the continued stupidities of the Bush cad-ministration, that mutherfukkin' War on Terror, and (even tho' l'Marquis is not likely to live long enough to see it get REALLY bad...) global warming/reliance on petrochemicals/dire consequences for the environment, just to name a few of the many ills hereby we define our troubled times. BUT, the real point we feel is necessary to make is that so many of the really horrible things that beset us appear a result of the predominance of Really Stupid People out in the world. Proof? hmmmmmmmm... maybe let's examine this issue of Intelligent Design, for starters; the emergence of the NASCAR Nation (in seeming collusion with right minded Christian folk throughout this debatably great nation, whether they be evangelical or otherwise...); those desperado types crusing the border & protecting us from the horde of undocumented types willing to do all our dirty work for us, willin' enough to risk dying in the fukkin' searing hot desert. Article in last weeks NY Time's Sunday mag re R. Santorum, no doubt a man secure in his catholic faith, secure enough to victimize members of his constituency as well as some of the rest of the country because he believes these things So Very Fundamentally. Sorry, mis amigos, what few of ye are left, but this boy is sick to death of the Christian Right, of nearly any variety of religious group-think.
Don't ye dare proselytize to me, you goddamn unquestioning moron, because i will bite your fucking nose off.
s'cuse me, nurse says it's time for my meds, be right back...
alright, feeling a little better now, thank you. It cooled off, by the way, local temperature-wise, even rained upon us on Friday, a bit less on Saturday, still a bit more humid than usual so the swamp coolers not working at their highest efficiency, but 89 degrees a lot more endurable than 101-105. Oh, yah, something else we had something of a gripe about. You know that new animated film in theatres presently, the one that starts with the letter M? No, his royal heinieness has not sat through it, and it ain't bloody likely he will, but is l'Marquis the only one who perceives a possiblity that some elements in modeling the animal characters in the film might be inspired (particular the lion character) by some of Creature Comforts's zoo-bound beasties. And what is Nick Park and Aardman Animations up to these days? Not saying anybody's ripping anybody off, just something 'bout that lion's jaw seems awfully reminiscent of our jungle cat friend who,
like so many of the rest of us, just wants leetl' more esspace...

s'at a burrito in your pocket or...      5.26.05
are you glad to see me. Reminds me of news story some pal sent me heads-up about some weeks ago, poor kid (I think it was in New Mexico somewhere) caused a stir at school when he brought gigantic homemade (and sounded pretty yummy too) burrito to school, somebody suffering from bad case of modern-day-paranoia mistook the large wrapped item for a firearm or something, anyway, what you see alongside is from EPTx eatery known as Rafa's, the original out in the Lower Valley somewhere, Rafa's II is on Montana, one block west of Cotton, pretty darn cheap, that monster there cost $3.50 and can easily feed two adults, possibly 3 or 4 children. Prices range btwn $3.25 and $3.50 for the burritos, tortas also available, was too intimidated by the size of this burrito to try ordering one of those. The pollo asado was pretty good, tender and flavorful; the carnitas were not so hot, dry and kind of overdone; the carne asada was better than the carnitas, but way salty (least for our taste). They come in HUMONGOUS tortilla, kinda loosely wrapped, a smear of refried beans plus some avocado and lettuce partners up with whatever filling you choose, something like 15-20 options. Good deal in terms of dollars/ounces of food ratio, but on that previously utilized scale of 5 estrellas, easily two and a half with the occasional tres (the pollo asado on this trip)estrellas obtainable, t'was our first visit, and as we've yet to visit the original Rafa's way out east, is possible we being a wee bit critical. Alright, we wrap this up pronto quickly but before we go, want to take this opportunity to shout out birthday greetings to the ever fabulous Craig Jensen of BookNotes notoriety, and those Happy B.Day wishes are sent alongside our congrats for the anniversary he and Ann are celebrating soon. Making a toast in your honor today, amigo CJ!

just put it up to yourstruly being...      5.24.05
prickly, curmudgeonly, and, well, let's not mince words (yesssss, you prickly asshole, Let's!) just wearing our crankypants nearly alla'time now, particularly that Deadwood (likely the only thing we have seen on the tube that we considered worthwhile viewing of late...) has reached its season's conclusion. T'was a l o n g time ago, in what now appears to have been an alternate universe far, far away, l'Marquis was a married chap, lovely spouse Ginger and faithful poochster Likker drove into the City Across the Bay from our Oaktown home one evening, heading to the Coronet Theatre to see Star Wars. Gin's brother Ricardo was along for the trip, in our old Chevy Impala, faithful poochster accustomed to waiting for us in the car whilst we dithered hither and yon (and yesssss, Binky, we kept windows open...). Ahhhhhh, what a night, seeing those at-that-time spectacular scenes, like the opening with the rebel ship flying across the screen being followed by - OH SHIT! What is that? - the gigantic star cruiser; the scene amongst the many creatures in the Tatooine Bar; the demolishing of a planet by the Death Star; that first jump into hyperspace. Oh, and did we mention all of us ('cept the poochster) on a head full of fine acid. Oh, man, and that drive home afterwards, the traces left by all the taillights on the bay bridge back into Oak-town. Memories, man oh man. Anyway, seems like yourstruly lost interest after the third installment of the initial trilogy, we've yet to view any of George's second trilogy, just seems to be so much sturm and drang, signifying very little, damn, we used to think of Mr. Lucas as one hella filmmaker too. Anthony Lane's New Yorker review pretty much captures much of our own feelings regarding everything that came after The Empire Strikes Back, and sure, go ahead and make that very valid criticism that we know not what we speak of until we invested the cash and time to see the damned things for ourself, but we really not interested and feel (very genuinely) that at this time we'd much rather spend our money and time in other endeavors. Some folks (a, b, and c, for example) liked it fine, cool, s'far as we're concerned. Maybe it's just everything that has happened to yourstruly ever since those days of '76-'77, maybe it's the overdose of commercials and crap with Star Wars-Revenge of the Sith tie-ins, maybe it's just those tight fitting cranky pants, quien sabe? Maybe one day we'll tell you about our phone conversation with Princess Leia, yeah, datz right, Binky, we so taken by that otherworldly hairdo in Star Wars we had to ring the girl up and gush unashamedly and unabashedly about how much fun we had watching. Oh, but that was then, and you know the rest of that trite little homily, don't ye, Binky?

"You don't want to go into the desert..."       5.23.05
hola, leetle preeety ones, como estan? That quote above from a film scripted & directed by a certain D. Mamet entitled Spartan and we utilizing it to mark the occasion of local temps reaching the 100 degree mark over the last three days. As far as movie references goes, we mention something 'bout movies and one in particular a little later on in the course of today's dispatch, yet a primero, a wee travelouge. Yourstruly made a trip across the border the other day, jessferdahalibut, via the Santa Fe Street bridge (you can walk across to J-town from downtown EPTx). Brought the Momz along for the trip but all along had the vibe that she'd much rather be on her own side of the bridge. Coulda been worse, wethinks, had we brought her along en la noche, when things be much livelier than the mid-morning hours we visited. Enjoyed, leastways yourstruly did, a lengthy promenade, next week we put something together with additional pictures to share and include some from recent visit to Las Cruces checking out some places we hadn't included in any of our previous visits there. simplest way across the border these days is either via stroll from downtown location, to keep the distance on the U.S. side as short as possible there are plenty of parking lots in the Santa Fe St. vicinity near the bridge ramp, average fee remains $3, then it's something like 20 minutes up and across the bridge (there's an awning over the pedestrian ramp on the Mexican side, a nice touch on a warm and sunny day, guess the gringos are too cheap to manage something similiar. Anyone having crossed the bridge previously knows that what you are walking over is a very large concrete ditch. There was some water down there, but nothing that you could actually describe as a river. Juarez Avenue is the street you'll find yourself on once across, and yesssssss Binky, been a while since l'Marquis has set foot hereabouts, much unrecognizeable to him after the many moons of his absence from la frontera, as he expected.
Alright, so the Momz and ourowndamnedself are traipsing 'bout hither & yon, taking a few pics of this & that, as one could discern the Momz discomfort, we didn't pause anywhere for a meal, looks like l'Marquis' gonna have to make that trip solo sometime soon. Later this week, if we don't end up prostrate & heat-stroken on the back patio, we'll put together page of pictures from this J-town outing, plus some from that recent Las Cruces trip. We'll mention here and now tho', very decent cuppa can be had at the Milagro Cafe, just a hop, skip and jump off Hwy 25 at the University Ave. exit. As far as a decent meal, cheap & otherwise, there's a mere handful of places we've had the opportunity to check out when in L.C., one pretty dependable joint we'd recommend to ye is Dick's Cafe (you'll find brief mention of Dick's here, alongside a few other L.C. eateries, we looking forward to checking out Nellie's on our next visit...). Now the burgers are pretty decent, and as prickly as yourstruly is we not putting them in the Excellent category. They do serve up a very yummy red chile, comes as a side with most of the menu items or you can order just a chile plate (red or green, haven't tried the green yet but if the red is any indication of their way with chile it got to be yummy, too...) that comes with rice and beans and a pair of tortillas. Cheap steaks, too, although we've not yet tried any of 'em. Got to keep Crakhed Johan from accompanying us on our trips to L.C., seems he's developing a crush on one of the waitresses at Dick's and just won't countenance eating any place else, damn him. So, okay, maybe next time we have the pics from our Juarez Promenade ready alongside the visit to Peddler's Pavilion and BigDamnFleaMarketPlace in L.C., maybe add a pic of Dick's as we know we gonna be back there sometime soon. We did begin with movie mention, a Mamet film we kinda like, and while Val Kilmer's not one of our favorites, there is a film he did that we don't mind recommending, The Salton Sea, wherein Mr. Kilmer acquits hisowndamnedself admirably, but in which Vincent D'Onofrio wins the scenery chewing contest hands down! There is one film seen recently (at home, on DVD) we want to recommend to ye, sort of hybrid road movie/buddy movie (buddies in this one are two women, and for the gents in the audience, well, they both are awfully easy on the ol' eyeballs...). Matter of fact, you get a little border flavour in the very beginning of this film, some of it shot in Juarez, where one of the women begins her part of the journey, that journey they both share taking them south thru Mexico on the way to the Yucatan. In Spanish w/subtitles (and a pretty fine soundtrack!) seek out Sin Dejar Huella (Without a Trace) from your local (or more likely On-Line) video emporium. Directed by Maria Novaro, who, by the way, also directed another wonderful film we happily recommend to thee, Danzon.
alright then, suppose that's gonna do it for now. Going to leave you with a little bit from Tim Cahill,
a collection of his work published under the title of Pecked to Death by Ducks (Random House, '93),
this from "The Game of Living Things":

           The desert is hateful.
           There are those who can make you love it. Edward Abbey, Joseph Wood Krutch,
even Zane Grey. But you love it from a chair.
           In the desert, at high noon, there are no shadows, and the sun weighs on you with the weight of centuries. The land seems dead or dying, and the desert is like an aging movie star, under merciless light. Oh God, look at those dry washes, that eroded landscape.
           Try walking through any major desert in the season of its fury, and you can learn to hate the land. it is not the heat, the great convection oven of desert valleys, that kills so much as the ground temperature. Like a sidewalk under the midsummer sun, the ground collects heat, radiates it. In Death Valley ground temperatures as high as 200 degrees have been recorded. Don't fall here. Don't faint. A few hours lying on unshaded ground can kill very easily. It can literally bake the brain inside the skull.

horale, gatos y gatitas...       5.17.05
due to overwhelming (yahhhh, right...) popular demand, it's Tantalizing Taco Tuesday! Whoooo Hoooo! alright, gimme a moment to calm down, then let ourowndamnedself explain that for reasons of national security, we had to keep our selection close to home today, so we didn't venture very far from la casa de Esther on the N.E. part of EP town. Now, we be the first to admit there seldom be ANY reason for ANYbody visiting EPTx to venture out into the southwestern desert hinterlands of N.E. EPTx, but, well, maybe you happened to be passing thru, and for some reason ended up taking the Trans-Mountain Road (aka Hwy 375) exit off of Interstate 10 as the opportunity to commune with nature in the high desert wilderness of the Franklin Mountains State Park (which is accessable via Trans-Mtn Rd as well as McKelligon Canyon Rd...) became an overwhelming impulse, and, okay, so then you check out the view at the western overlook then ride thru the mountains and check out the sights at the eastern overlook and BOOM!, all of a sudden you can't think of anything you'd rather do right then and there but EAT SOME TACOS! Hey, why the hell not. SO- you get back on the road heading downhill & continuing east and you'll pass underneath the Highway 54 (aka the Patriot Freeway) overpass, continuing on till you reach the intersection of Woodrow Bean/Trans-Mtn (one of the world's ugliest spots, without a doubt), make a right on Dyer and head south for a mile or so, be ready to make a U-turn (at least this way you'll be heading back to W.Bean/TxMtn so you can get back the way you came) and keep a weather eye peeled for The Burrito House (9844 Dyer St, single story building painted white, signage on the roadside but can be easy to miss in the awfulness of small biz and assorted commerce you'll find on outer Dyer St.). Pretty damned good food here, very reasonable prices, very popular lunchtime spot and busy, busy, busy on Sunday mornings. Yourstuly stopped by to pick up simple order of tacos, one of picadillo and another of chicken, six bucks and change for them both (we passed on the rice and beans alongside). Yummy they were, very much so, crisp and thin tortilla shell chock full of filling, the usual lettuce w/wee bits of tomato and monterey jack garnishing the order. A container of green chile salsa accompanied each other, that was good too, in our estimation 'tis always good to avoid that scorched-earth salsa experience, this salsa left nicely satisfying tingle on the lips after ingesting yummy taco. Alright, maybe a taco rating system of some kind ought to be in order, for the moment we give the nicely spiced picadillo 3 & 1/2 stars, and while los tacos de pollo were certainly muy sabroso, they got just a wee bit soggy, that juicy & flavorful stewed chicken they were chock full of soaked into that crisp, thin tortilla, one had to take care while munching one's taco that it didn't come apart and end up decorating one's lap (or, as has happened to someone we know, falling in between their cleavage...), so we be rating them a 3, but a Pretty Damned Good three.

the unfortunate reality facing us...      
well, we'll get back to that in just a moment, what l'Marquis primarily wishes to accomplish here and now is share with you something he picked up in our local (one of the more positive experiences we've had of late is our discovery of very well equipped public library here in N.E. EPTx...) library. The book is entitled Imperial Hubris (googled here; the following an excerpt from Chap. 6, titled "Blinding Hubris Abounding: Inflicting Defeat on Ourselves - Non-Wars, Leaks, and Missionary Democracy", chapter subheading this excerpt comes from is Democracy: America's Least Exportable Commodity:

           The U.S. approach to Afghanistan must be judged one that is suffused with arrogance. Knowing nothing of what we were getting into, we staged a mighty air attack followed by a dainty ground war that limited U.S. casualties but allowed most of the enemy to go home with their guns. We next installed a regime in Kabul with no credible members from the largest Afghan ethnic group -- from which Afghan rulers historically come -- and assigned it the task of pushing a Westernized political agenda unacceptable to the Afghans' tribal traditions and offensive to Islam. (This will sound familiar to those watching developments in Iraq.) In sum, our policies and actions in Afghanistan have marginally reduced the mobility there of al Qaeda and the Taleban, have reinvigorated a broad, popular, and predictable xenophobia toward foreign occupation - even among the late Masood's men, the bulk of Karzai's military, who will not trade Russian for U.S. masters - and have ensured the United States must soon decide whether to exponentially increase its military presence and wage a destructive nationwide war, or tuck its tail and skedaddle for home a la Viet Nam and Somalia. As matters stand, bin Laden, Mullah Omar, and their Gulf benefactors need expend only patience and the modest costs of insurgency to make America pay the extraordinarily high price that, sadly, is the merited wages of arrogance and willful ignorance.
           Arrogance is not the worst of it for America as she charges forward in the cause of instant democracy. That honor falls to the category of hubris, buttressed by ignorance. Since World War II, it seems, we have bred political, media, military, academic, and social elites who lead the country in a manner that shows little knowledge of, or respect for, American history. These ill-informed, mostly male leaders have made the United States into what the historian Niall Ferguson has described as a "colossus with an attention deficiency disorder." When U.S. leaders speak blithely and ad nauseam of building a democracy like our own saying that it can be done speedily and on the cheap, they betray ignorance of foreign lands, cultures, and histories as well as the creeds and bloody struggles and dearly bought accomplishments of American history. As I said above, this double-strength ignorance is likely to put us on the road to self-inflicted disaster. In August 2003, the historian Joshua Mitchell pointedly warned his countrymen about believing their leaders' glib assurances that democracy could be easily built abroad. Although few have listened to Mitchell, his brilliant appeal and prognosis deserve repetition, particularly because our failures as democracy builders become more apparent as each day passes.
           Nearly 250 years later(after U.S. independence), American foreign policy in Afghanistan and Iraq is driven by an idea so inscribed in the American psyche that it amounts to a syndrome: Cast off the tyrannical leaders, then citizens and leaders alike will band together to bring about that freedom a tyrant's presence precluded. It happened in America; surely it will happen elsewhere. Thus our war of liberation, to free Iraq of its King George III....
           In both Afghanistan and Iraq we have won the war, but we stand in danger of losing what we won because our foreign policy suffers from the King George Syndrome. Freedom is neither a spontaneous nor a universal aspiration. Other goods captivate the minds of other people from other lands, order, honor, and tribal loyalties being the most obvious. And because these other goods orient these peoples no less powerfully than freedom orients us, we are apt to be sorely surprised when people who are liberated turn to new tyrants who can assume order; to terrorists who die for the honor of their country or Islam; and to tribal warlords whose winner-take-all mentality is corrosive to the pluralism and toleration that are the very hallmarks of modern democracy....
           Our wars of liberation will breed illiberal aspirations, and rather than standing back with incredulity when this happens, we had better give plenty of thought beforehand to the fact that the tyrants we depose will be preferable to the chaos a liberated people will initially endure; that honor is still the currency of value in the Middle East, more so than goods and services; and that affiliations of blood are immensely more important than the sovereignty of the individual citizen.
           The tragedy-producing potential of this arrogance is increased because it is wrapped in American hubris that has forgotten or - given the education our youngest voters have received - never learned the nature and length of the arduous and often bloody struggle Americans have waged to get to their present stage of self-government. American democracy began not in Jamestown in 1608, or at the Continental Congress in 1776 but - to pick a plausible date - in 1215 when the English barons reduced King John's arbitrary powers at Runnymede. From that medieval English glen to the American political system of 2003 is a nearly eight-century journey tracing a gradual but not inevitable advance of personal liberty, guaranteed civil rights, self-government, and independent judiciary, and the separation of church and state. These are unprecedented accomplishments, but the road traversed to attain them has not been smooth; rather, it has been marked by brutal and bloody events and personalities, as well as by civil war, protracted legal struggles, urban riots, noble lives sacrificed, voting fraud, lynchings, ethnic and racial violence, labor-business clashes, and virtually every form of hatred, prejudice, and bigotry. In defeating thse obstacles Americans have been helped - by great good luck or the kindness of Providence, take your pick - by residing on a fertile, temperate, and resource-rich continent tucked away from some of the most devastating events on the road to where we stand today. How lucky we are, for example, to have benefited from but not participated in the Reformation, the Counter-Reformation, and the hundred years of religious wars they engendered, thereby enabling us to become a nation where men have yet to kill each other en masse over matters of faith.

jessferdahalibut...       5.16.05

yourstruly escorted the Momz & gramd-cousin (?) Irma to St. George's Orthodox Church yesterday, where their annual Dinner and Fair was being held, lots of yummy mid-eastern/mediterranean kinds of goodies to eat (drink special: vodka and red bull for $5...), some live music, which we missed as it seems the band was scheduled for later in the day, although we did catch the dance performers you see in picture above. Surprised brother Dan & lovely spouse Janet eating up their plate of yummys in their main hall which along with the two large tents set up adjacently were teeming with folks enjoying theirowndarnedselves. The gals and l'Marquis headed off to east side of town after a couple of hours and enjoyed fine chinese luncheon at the Mom'z fave Peking Garden (on Trawood & Hawkins), which is (so far) the best chinese restaurant l'Marquis has had the pleasure to visit here in the land of eternal sunshine (be sure to inquire about the crab listed in any dish, sometimes fresh, sometimes that ersatz stuff...). Big thunderstorm blew through town later that evening, much thunder and lightning, hail here and there, substantial rain showers, all taking place in little more than two hours then it was almost as it had never happened. Alright then, as we said above, jessferdahalibut, little bit of linky biz, something we oft referred to during our stint on the killing floor of S.F. Kronikle Klassifieds, always worth dropping in and getting a wee history lesson: Your Daily Bleed, with this for today; then a quick visit to pssst, mebbe you'll want to check out The Crimson Room (link available there...).

the Troopers rudely were awoken - - ? ! ?...       5.15.05
egads. Well, perhaps the scribe assigned the story was under deadline. So the wee fish from the wee pond in the desert southwest have met their match (& More) in that more sizeable body of water known as the State Championships. It shouldn't diminish their effort too greatly, though, and as most of these young fellahs be juniors, perhaps, just perhaps, they can look upon this as a learning experience and prepare themselves accordingly, should they be willing to take on that personal challenge and all it entails. Nevertheless, congrats to young Miguelito & his teammates for performing as well as they have, for the successes they have enjoyed.

the social ramble ain't restful...       5.13.05
pretty sure it was Satchel Paige that said that, leastways, something like that. Big family thing in little tiny house yesterday afternoon after the church and graveside services, yourstruly thankful he took along change of clothes as his fellow pallbearers were in much more casual mode than he had expected, a fine thing not to have to wear a necktie. Brief visit here to make mention of young nephew Miguelito and teammates heading to state meet in Austin, he knows he's got plenty of family and friends rooting for him particularly his abuelita Esther, so Andale muchachos, corre, rapido, corre! Corre!

l'Marquis on call for pallbearer duty...       5.12.05
and once again finds himself relying on the kindness of others to get his damned tie properly fashioned, reminding himself that he should be thankful he never had opportunity to have to wear one on a regular every working day basis, as so many other of his contempories have. Yourstruly entrusted the trimming of his locks to sis-in-law Liz, who acquitted herself in exemplary fashion, allaying a major source of concern for his royal heinie-ness, not so evolved that he's unbound himself from the bondage of vanity. Great Auntie of ours Concha, aunt to our Papa-San Vincenzo, died early Tuesday morning, 92 years young and as tough as they come katz und kitteezz, we kid you not. The old gal underwent amputation of her remaining leg (not certain when the first was removed...) just about 7 months ago and many folks didn't think she'd hang in there much longer after that, so all of us impressed by her strength of spirit and will to live, sooner or later though, one does run out of heartbeats. Plenty of relatives on the Pop's side of the family around, many from out of town, so this an occasion to catch up with folks one hasn't seen in decades. Anyway, jessferdahalibut, something to pass along to you that we cadged from visit to Kate Cohen's website, A Painting A Day. Got to hie ourselves out the door, ciao for now...

so late on Tuesday that it's almost Wednesday...       5.10.05
alright, so yourstruly was thinking that the first time he'd run across Penelope Cruz in a film was in Almodovar's All About My Mother, recalling we liked the film so much we must have made mention of it sometime in the first year of the dumbmonkey's blogsistence, A N Y W A Y, 'twas a treat tonight to catch Belle Epoque on the Starz cable channel and to be reminded of having seen it back in the days of our involvement with Palmer's Video in Berkeley Ca, & that this lovely little film provided our initial introduction to Ms. Cruz. Ourowndamnedself will avoid any critical comment of the vagaries of Ms Cruz's career of late, as ourowndamnedself can be awfully prickly sometime. Talking about prickly, enjoyed watching Henry's Film Corner for the first time and cannot describe our unalloyed enjoyment of his review of Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, s'wonderful thing that IFC didn't feel it necessary to rein in Mr. Rollins' plainspokenness, motherfucker! Catch him if you can, wishing one could locate a transcript of tonight's show just to provide thee with his very concise description of el residente, maybe they'll add that segment to the vidclips available online. Oh, and while we on the subject of IFC related material, if you lived in L.A. in the Seventies you might have some fond memories of Z Channel. Yourstruly was in L.A. only now and again, never for very long, during the mid & late seventies, yet was aware of the marvelous thing that the Z Channel was. Fine tribute to Jerry Harvey and the marvel known as Z Channel in a documentary titled Z Channel: A Magnificent Obesssion being aired on IFC, plus a weekend of programming intended to give you a little taste of what Z Channel was about, maybe give that tivo of yours a workout. Oh, and it was Tuesday, wasn't it? Where's that Tantalizing Taco Tuesday you were looking for? well, goshdarnitall, met up with bros Ken and Dave for lunch, WAY the hell out there in Socorro, where Dave treated us to lunch at Sombras Del Pasado. Yesssss, Binky, yourstruly had tacos, in fact, one of the lunch specials of the day were chicken tacos (which we happen to be very partial to, tacos de pollo, not necessarily tacos from S.D.P.). They were not so hot, only two tacos w/rice and beans (los quates -- K & D are twin brothers -- had the mexican plate), chicken was pretty bland, their salsa barely so-so, the soup provided with lunch was nothing special, wish they had been memorable enough to warrant more than this dismissive opinion and we'd be doing ya a disservice if we didn't mention this was our second visit to S.D.P. and, well, l'Marquis is less than impressed. Seems that S.D.P. in Socorro is in this very old edificio, built back in the 1800's, so it possesses some "atmosphere", some folks consider it a romantic and charming kind of place, perhaps that accounts for its popularity. Nice to have lunch with both K & D though, we don't make opportunity often enough to enjoy that manner of get-together. So, if it be okay with you katz und kitteez, and fact being that good, cheap tacos are not that hard to find out here in EPTx, maybe we can search out something one could consider a little more of a challenge, like
"Can one find a good pastrami on rye in El Paso?". Stay tuned...

e c h o e s . . .       5.09.05
once again, an apology for providing soon to be vanished into the ether linkage, courtesy the Sunday NYT: an earlier perusal of some bloggos favoritos allowed us to note that pal Stumpy D of environy had also come across the Emir Kusturica profile in the Sunday Magazine, and we heartily second that emotion, Stumpy, Time of the Gypsies also one of our long time favorite films. We found it odd that it didn't rate mention in the profile, other than the allusion to magical turkeys. Great soundtrack too, would love to hear what the No Smoking Orchestra sounds like on a good night. Now, gurlz and boyz, we offer up our first "echo",
excerpted from the Kusturica profile:
As we drove to dinner in Belgrade this past December, the noise Kusturica was making mostly took the form of a great and serious indignation with the corporatization of the world. From the passenger seat, he was growing increasingly enraged by the billboards in the city. The Serbian capital is only slowly recovering from the effects of war, international sanctions and the NATO bombing it suffered in 1999, but superficially it's well into a headlong rush toward consumer commercialism. ''Here, like in Moscow, even in Petersburg, everywhere,'' he said, gesturing angrily at the advertisements lining the street. ''Everywhere starts to look the same, everything must look the same, everything that was different, it must be covered up by this sameness.'' He was fully caught up in a momentum of sincere outrage when his wife, Maja, a dark-haired beauty with a particularly graceful knack for letting the air out of the international superstar sitting next to her, gently stopped him short.
EMIR: Everything must be sold! Everything must be for sale!
Everyone must buy! Everyone must have a Jeep!
MAJA: Even you.
EMIR: Yes, even me.
MAJA: You have three.;
and then, out of the Book Review (ahh, go ahead, read the bloody thing, will ya?),
'Irresistible Empire': McEurope
next echo experienced when we came across the Editorial Observer piece by Adam Cohen,
The Latest Rumbling in the Blogosphere: Questions About Ethics
followed up with item out of the Biz pages, A Blog Revolution? Get a Grip;
another echo, this one a bit fainter than the first two, & returning to the editorial pages we offer for thy perusal Missing Nuclear Leadership, echoed by Who Scares the Rest? (part of the title you see makes more sense when you see the piece actually laid out on the page, the graphics are a good deal more impressive "in hand" than on screen...). okay, okay, we heard you, enough of that echo stuff, and enough of that channelling Al Swearengen, sorry 'bout that, can't seem to control that impulse these days. One last thing to pass along, also out of the sunday NYT, Week in Review section, The Perfect Storm That Could Drown the Economy. We lied (mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa). Have to mention that Pt 3 of E. Kolbert's The Climate of Man awaits you. Links to parts Uno y Dos are there at end of our Taco Tuesday post of 5.3.

a world that's truly fucked up...      
gonna do this even tho' we aware that in another week or so this link is gonna be worthless, unless you happen to care enough to indulge in paying for the opportunity to read the item, but for here and now, something we caught on the front page of yesterday's NY Times: Drug Makers Reap Benefits of Tax Break. Sometimes, jessferdahalibut ye might say, reading something like that would (oncet upon a time...) inspire us to begin several searches into the ether, dig up some choice chewy chunks of linky goodness that we'd mine in order to create lengthy diatribe re the greed & foolishness of these fucking bastard cocksuckers that so irritated our shiny red baboon ass, ahhhhh, shite, anyway- just try this for starters, well, mebbe after you've had brekkie or lunch, whatever, as it's bound to make you lose your appetite.

happymuddazzdey...       5.08.05
the momz & yourstruly heading out shortly for buffet Momma's Day affair; whilst she spent yesterday in the company of Sister Victoria ourowndarnself took the opportunity to check out film we'd read about in recent New Yorker and glad we did too. Contemplated getting into some kind of lengthy thing regarding how all films are some manner of contrivance, certainly some to a greater degree than others (saw Sahara recently also and there's an example of one hell of a contrived plotline...), & there's something deeply moving about this film, maybe it's Don Cheadle's face at one point in time in the film (if there is anybody doing better work than Cheadle in American cinema right now we'd like to know about 'em...), maybe it was the part with the chicano locksmith's daughter, oh, quien sabe, babeee. Crash is a film we highly recommend you check out, contrivances notwithstanding, might likely be the best film of the year.

it was much, Much Later that same day...       5.03.05
oh yah, Tantalizing Taco Tuesday, perhaps the beginning of a semi-regular feature, perhaps not always featuring tacos, pos quien sabe, eh Binksky?. Okay, so just what comprises Taco-dom? Compared to a flauta or chalupa or variant thereof, and as far as ourowndarnself's concerned, growing up on the border and able to lay claim to Mexican ancestry, Slavic surname notwithstanding, it's always been a corn tortilla, as opposed to one of flour although we've seen 'em made both ways (mostly in Califa, ese...), fried (or dorado more often than not, with various fillings, but grew up being used to seasoned ground beef, occasionally with a bit of papitas (potato) and perhaps chorizo in the mix, and typically accompanied by lettuce, tomato and salsa. So, for simplicity's sake, we'll stick with that criteria, altho' occasionally we'll be sampling tacos de pollo, perhaps de cabrito, sesos, lengua, ohhhh, yah, we gonna have some fun, compadres...
alright kids, first we point ye in the direction of El Paso section of UnknownCity (and we hope some of ye passing thru will jump on in and maybe add a fews suggestions of your own favorite cheap eats), post that caught our eye upon our intial discovery of UC, in re longtime EPTx establishment Chico's Tacos. There's pic of s single order to go over there, rolled tacos that one assumes have meat in them, and sure, you can call l'Marquis a snob, a foodie, whatever, nevertheless not interested enough to investigate too closely, and it wouldn't break his heart if he never had another order of Chico's Tacos in his life, goddamned Cultural Elitist that he is. Really folks, the romance behind Chico's escapes us, there are six of these establishments in EP, all of them doing good business, and one imagines that the primary reason is that it's just so damned cheap. Burger for barely less than a dollar, cheeseburger for about 30 cents more, but don't say we didn't try to clue you in, you might find the experience less than satisfying, tho' certainly memorable, no doubt.
That's a double order of tacos from Ben's there on the left, plain and simple, the only way they come. Ben's is also located in the Second Ward, AKA el Segundo Barrio, where me Mama y Papa spent their early years. When the Momz introduced me to Ben's recently she mentioned she, her hermanas y amigas all used to go there when they went to Bowie High (Go Bears!). Maybe not a neighborhood a lot of you will have the opportunity to get to, but if you're ever in town and want a guide, send an email to el chango tonto and let's see what happens. These little fellas come plain and simple, only lettuce and optional chile as accompaniments, the filling is combo of potato and ground beef (?), heavy on the potato. Not a great taco, to be sure, but something like a little bit of history with every mouthful.
and now, katz und kitteez, we present to thee something more akin to what many of us expect when we ask for some tacos. Yourstruly's first contribution to the UnknownCity was a recommendation for Doña Lupe's Cafe, on Pershing in the Cinco Puntos (Five Points) neighborhood, breakfast and lunch mostly, they choose to close by five even tho' the Italian Kitchen is almost next door and stays open late. There are 3 tacos underneath that heap of Monterey Jack, ground beef and bit of onion, tasty rice with some beans balancing the presentation, on Tuesdays this will set you back $4.95, regular price in the neighborhood of another dollar or so. Excellent caldillo (yipes, another controversy!) to be had here, tambien Compa...
muchas gracias to brother Ken & sis-in-law Liz for accompanying us on our visit to Doña Lupe's, K. partook of el plato mexicano while L. had the taco special, and we all reminisced on those Tuesdays of not so long ago, Taco Tuesdays at La Hacienda restaurant on Paisano Dr., when you could get all the tacos you could eat for a measly $5 per person, pretty good ones they were too; four or five of us at the table, platter or a dozen or so brought out at a time, eating out on the patio, now just a fond memory as the Hacienda has shut down, perhaps awaiting someone with some deep pockets and enough affection for the old place to bring it to life once again. El Chango Tonto working on his next post at UC, more hints on cheap eats, this time concentrating in and around Downtown EP, where many, many, many things have changed, unfortunately not for the better, regardless of intentions. What yourstruly wants to emphasize is the fact that Cheap Eats abound (!!!) in EPTx, much of that having to do with being on the border and how that (in a terribly emphatic fashion) skews the entire local economy. Seriously, what most of us call Mexican Food should always be inexpensive, if you are considering the basic beans, tortillas with occasionally tossing some kind of meat or fowl into the mix. You don't have to go very far across the bridge to find yourself some really great food at astounding prices, considering the value of the peso in comparison to the dollar, but that option's a little too complicated for some folk, traffic on the bridges being part of the equation.
What's that you asking, Binky-poo? What's our favorite in the whole-wide-world taco joint? ahhhhhh, now you gonna make us homesick, what you wanna go and do that for? Bar none, fave cheapo taco joint's less than five minute walk from our casita in Albany, CA, and when we being Really Bad we order two tacos dorados de carnitas, ohhhhh manohmanohman, excuse us a sec while we wipe the saliva offa da keyboard. Gordo's in Albany (we like a few places in the city too, but with Gordo's just up the street, why bother?). Hey, we hoping to make it back for a while next month, meet us at Gordo's, and we can walk back to chez d'Monquis and sit out in the backyard, take our shoes off and enjoy them al fresco...
enough of the taco biz, a couple of items to share: Buy, beg, borrow, or steal the Atlantic and seek out Bernard-Henri Lévy's In the Footsteps of Tocqueville (very brief excerpt from about midway thru Part 1: The Revenge of the Little Man; He can't manage to say "stem cells" without making a mistake. Stumbles over numbers and acronyms. He has in his expression, in his eyes that are too close together, that faint look of panic that dyslexic children have when they think they're going to make a mistake and will be scolded for it, but they can't stop once they've started. Takes on a fake tough-guy look when he broaches the subject of Iraq. When he utters the word "America" or "army" he stops short--or, rather, stiffens, as if at the sound of an invisible bugle. Now, in Detroit, where he has come to speak to the National Urban League, the black civil-rights organization that has invited him, he frowns with concern when he talks about the city's poor neighborhoods. You know who he's describing, doncha Binky? Okayokayokay, una cosa mas. Mentioned late last month and we think it be pretty darned terrific that the New Yorker is making this available on-line; THE CLIMATE OF MAN Pt 1, and Pt 2. Bravo to the New Yorker! Oh Yeah! and have you heard about this kid David McSwane

imagine our surprise & how we laughed...      
late yesterday afternoon, after our labors in the gardens of Chez Ester, enjoying tall, cold glass of iced tea and settling in to watch R. Altman's The Long Goodbye, making mental note to ourself we ought to rent and watch again, as we missed the beginning of film, A N Y W A Y- a young and beautiful Elliot Gould in the role of Philip Marlowe alongside a young and beautiful Nina VanPallandt, the singular Sterling Hayden (oh, Binky, they threw that mold away after that guy was created, datz fo' sure...) avec autres, ahhhh, but what brought big, shit-eating smile to our face was the sight of the Governator hisowndamnself, which you see alongside here, ol' Arnie uncredited in the film, read somewhere it was his second motion picture. Can you imagine those days, boyz und gurlz, the High in Hollywood parties of the Seventies. Take a look at Elliot's wearied, hangdog visage in American History X, ohhhhh, dem changes, babeee...
ourowndarnself will be back later, working on a Tuesday's Tantalizing Tacos post to share with ye and the good folks at UnknownCity

el primero dia del Mayo...       5.01.05
and we find our hero visiting the cashier's desk in big chain bookstore, magazines and sunday NYT in hand, clerk assiting with the purchase scans the mags first, then a local weekly (yea, verily, yourstruly supports El Paso Inc.), when she gets to the sunday times she asks, "New York Times, Huh? I suppose it has something interesting in it..." inducing ourowndarnself to launch into five minute diatribe regarding the worthless local rag, good for little else but lining the bottoms of bird cages (not even worthy of being labelled fishwrap...). Wethinks the middleaged missus handling our transaction was taken abit aback by the flash of our canines (ggggrrrrrrooooowwwwllllll......) and was happy to send us on our way. Nincompoop probably's never read the Times in her life (if Al Swearengen was writing this: Dumb Fucking Cocksucking Bitch wouldn't know a decent fucking newspaper if someone gave her a goddamned hearty assfucking with one!)
alright, the clan Pivarnick was heartened by news of young Michael's success in Lubbock, where he & his teammates triumphed in their 4X440 relay and will be heading to Austin in a couple of weeks to compete against other state finalists. Whoooo Hooo, congrats to young Miguelito, your Abuelita be mighty proud. Oh, yah Binky, to be sure, we'd like nothing better than to link to story about the Eastwood High team's success at regionals in Lubbock, but that aforementioned inept excuse of a newspaper cannot manage a well maintained & updated website either, so mebbe tomorrow, you know what it's like in a border town, ese, mañana, chiquitita, en la mañana pues...
alright, let's see, what else was it that occupied us of late? Oh Yah, l'Marquis headed out into the El Paso night on Friday per suggestion of Person Who Shall Remain Unidentified (except to mention she is still weblogging & currently based out of another city in Texass...) who wrote to advise us some pals of hers were playing at local venue and if we knew what was good for us, we'd get our lazy butt in gear and check 'em out. So, there we were at the T Lounge, first time for everyone, right? so it was for us, and the music got rolling sometime a bit after nine, ahhhh, let's digress un momentito, 'K? el chango tonto was there a bit after eight, expecting for some reason that he'd not be the only one there, but he was, well, 'cept for the bartender and door-person, so off we went to investigate the neighborhood, heading west into downtown, turning 'round and heading east out on Alameda, wasting some time, oh, nearly an hour's worth; parking the car we noticed van pulling up in front of the venue, fellas in the van getting out and unloading gear, so we passed a bit of time in the car listening to fave mix CD, oh 'nother ten minutes or so, some other folks pulling into spots up and down Texas Ave and heading for the club, so we moseyed on over -- we are in Texass mind you and moseying is big 'round these parts -- headed to the bar where, lo & behold, our old compatriot and one-time-minion Crakhed Johan was already well into serious elbowbending, got ourowndamnedself a beer and by the time we were ready for our second the band began to play. Oh, who was they, is that what you be asking, Binky? Well, goshdarnitall, it wuz da Beat Cowboys, gurlfren' (as the ol' Crakhed wud sey...) and man, they were smokin'! Really! Very talented quartet, excellent drummer providing back up vocals, two guitars, one of them singing lead, alongside beefy bassist fellow. Now, certainly, the band had both the Crakhed and myowndamnedself smiling and tapping our tootsies, but l'Marquis'd be amiss if he didn't mention that the
T Lounge is not really that large a place, perhaps oncet upon a time it was a garage, and could hold all of eight, maybe ten cars (if a couple of them were VWs). There's a bar along the one wall opposite the stage, one certainly has the opportunity to get right up close and personal with the boys (mebbe sometimes there's girls too, sure, we know...) in the band; stage takes up a fair amount of space, there's mebbe four or five tables with some chairs 'round them, some room for dancing to be sure, it could be described as intimate, but if you do that, make sure you be practicin' safe... -- ooops, that's another story. T Lounge has a pool table (not sure of the quality of the cues or the table, the Crakhed and yourstuly were holding up the far end of the bar and didn't want to give up our priviledged vantage points -- excellent view of the lovely bartendress at work) and some kind of video game. Ahh, what else? oh, we got to say it, Crakhed noticed too, and if he's taken notice, you best be assured there be some gravitas to the matter. Maybe there is too much sound system for the size of the T Lounge, maybe, just maybe, the band could have been miked a little better, gosh it was difficult to appreciate some of the fine work that lead guitarist was laying on us, and the drums could have, seriously, should have been a little clearer in the mixx, kind of muddy and bass-ey, ya know? Anyway, that was one hell of a good band, and both the Crakhed & l'Marquis are hoping to catch more than one, single solitary set by these boyz sometime soon, so gracias, Reecie, & you stay in touch & keep us apprised of their whereabouts, will ya?
Now, yesssss Binky, chill a minute there will ya? Yourstruly knows it not be entirely fair to criticize some hard working mix console flunky's work on the basis of just one goddamned show, okay? (Al Swearengen again: That fucking cocksocker on the board's so fucking clueless, can't he fucking tell that that the goddamned fucking cocksucking drummer's ride cymbal can't even be heard and that skinny cocksucker singing his goddamned fucking lungs out, jesusfuckingchrist couldn't even hear the words to the goddamned fucking song the cocksucker's trying to fuckin' sing...) so we promise, both the Crakhed and ourowndamnedself will go back, sometime soon. Oh, by the way, we goin' to check out the Three Legged Monkey out on the East Side of EPT sometime REAL SOON.
okay, okay, okay, got to wrap this up and get ready for our evening's entertainment, fried rice dinner and leftovers whilst watching Deadwood at 7 Pm. Maybe this be a good time to mention a couple of things we discovered in our initial perusal of the sunday NYT: we made some derogatory comments re a certain Jack Abramoff some leeetle while back; out of the NYT Sunday Magazine, A Lobbyist in Full, by Michael Crowley; out of the Book Review, and perhaps something that our longtime buddz on that other coast can better appreciate and mebbe take a whack at, We'll Map Manhattan. Keep it quick and dirty as we close out this goddamned cocksucker (sorry, Binky, seems l'Marquis' be channeling the spirit of Al Swearengen), salutes to the First of May via Stumpy D, and M.W.'s Wood s Lot, yah, likely there be many more enjoying their May Day, but we've only oppt'y to visit a few bloggos favoritos so far this day.
hasta lluego, gatos y gattitas!

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