back in the left coast's East Bay environs... 9.29.05
that is to say, S.F. Bay area's East Bay (not sure that there's any other left coast locale familiarly referred to as the East Bay, but yourstruly remains a largely ignorant fool, hence that dumbmonkey label...) and oh boy oh boy, wasn't it fun getting into town during the rush hour, jeeezuzzz-on-a-stick, and the sun setting in the west, which meant right in front of us most of the damn time. Oh, darling young ones, but it was cool, referring to temperatures, much cooler than that goshdarned west texass desert we've been hiding out in, much cooler than the Mojave we drove thru, much cooler than that metropolis in process that is the greater Tucson/Phoenix area, oh, it's getting ugly there kidz. Pleasant drive thru some pretty country here and there, at an unhurried pace, and we've intentions to dawdle more often & in a much more pronouncedly leisurely fashion now that we've succeded in meeting a deadline that was looking us in the eye. The marvel of technology that is the monkeemobile performed flawlessly, well, mebbe not exactly, the fan (you know, the one that ye use when ye use the heater or defroster, maybe want to cool the car off FAST when using the AC) succumbed, likely had more than it had ever dreamed it'd have to deal with after spending most of the last year in a hot, Hot, HOT desert environment. Presently the m-mobile's in Steve's Garage, getting some minor servicing done, make sure it is gonna be up to whatever's next in store.
Oh, and isn't it nice to see that goddamned Tom Delay meet up with some serious comeuppance? This is huge reward for those many hours l'Marquis has spent dancing his naked-shaman dances in the moonlit high desert night and certainly has him intending to dance his flabby tuchus off (s'great exercise, just gotta be careful 'bout those neighbors catching a glance of his imperial self starkers...) just to see if we can finagle the powers of the goddess to fling some seriously sticky shit upon Mssrs Rove, Rumseld, Cheney & the big stinky cheese hisowndamnedself (and let's not forget lil' Ms Condoleeeezzzza whilst we're at it...). Ye and ourowndamnedself know that there's plenty of ugly reality awaiting us in the course of the hurricane/s post-mortem, please continue reminding yourselves and those you know where that buck stops, my pretties, as that simple-minded, simpering, smirking moron-in-chief is long overdue as far as his own comeuppance is concerned.
Alright, l'Marquis' making major attempt to indulge himself whilst in Northern California, getting some taste of the many, many things he's been jonesing for whilst remaining mindful of his somewhat delicate condition (referrin' mainly to things comestible, putting off that surgery decision as long as possible...), getting back in touch with some amigos, tryin' to have some fun while maintaining an even strain, paying as little heed as primately possible to what's been whittled down to some 2 or 3 dozen kinds of anxiety. Definitely happy to see that if we wuz inclined to, we in town just in time for the Hardly, Strictly Bluegrass Fest (and we thank the goddess every time we dance that naked shaman dance for truly generous fools like Warren Hellman) at the Great Meadow in Golden Gate Park (truly the main 'ting might keep yourstruly from attending is our cripplin' aversion to crowds), and then, goshdarnitall, see what we been missin'! Our beloved Albany-ville's given themselves a free music in the park series (Veteran's Park is one block away from the d'Monquis estate) in September and we happen to be here in time for the last concert of the month (brief aside here as it didn't escape l'Marquis' notice that concert series sponsor happens to be Target, yah we mean that retailer that bought up all the ad space in a recent issue of the New Yorker, and more to the point now, we wuz in the nearly brand spanking new Tarjhaay edifice in Albany la otra noche - making our initial foray into the world of cel-phone purchasing - and man, we thought to ourself, this is a... a... mmmmm... well, it's a goddamn nice place, even if it is a Target store, check out the word from S.F. Gate's cultureblog yerowndarnedself...) but we MIGHT instead have to head into the city and see David Cronenberg's A History of Violence currently only available at the headache known as the Metreon, oh, but tomorrow's Friday and mebbe, just mebbe, it possible it'll open at a local (as in East Bay) location. Now as ourowndamnedself has essentially just got here, we realize we only dimly aware of the surfeit of wonderful things that await our attention, for now tho' we thinks we hear some Cheese Board pizza calling to us, "Yo! Big Ape Fellah! Nice tan, by the way and Hey, ya put on a few pounds haven't ya, big guy? Come on and getcha a slice, maybe two!" How we gonna resist, Binky, and is it even primately possible?
P.S. picked up copy of most recent Film Comment magazine, caught news that the most excellent Winter Soldier has been re-released. If you are one of the lucky few, you ought not miss the opportunity to see one of the finest Viet Nam war era docs ever made, so please (!) check out the list of screenings linked on the page.
gettin' ourselves out on the road for a bit... 9.26.05
a day later than intended but the delay had excellent reasons behind it, brother Dan's birthday (los quates David & Kenneth celebrated theirs earlier in the month) for one thing. While we at it, l'Marquis wants to pass along his congrats & best wishes for Janet & Bro Dan's anniversary (there's a bottle of champagne waiting for you guys at the Momz house...). There are just some things you can't get over, ya know? You might be one of the very fortunate few who are better equipped in terms of emotional resiliency, perhaps in possession of more finely adapted coping mechanisms, but for others of us, seems to take a lot longer to "scab over". Not at all sure that one's emotional equilibrium can ever be the same after a singularly fundamental emotional upheaval, but speaking for ourowndamnedself, our decision to take shelter closer to the family out here in the west texass desert had much to do with an inablity to regain some balance whilst being primarily a solo act out on the left coast. A measure of self-protection, this re-location, and despite the drawbacks of life in the hinterlands here along the southwestern border, there's been some healing that has taken place, but yourstruly isn't about to kid himself, 'cause we feeling about 6 dozen different kinds of anxiety on the threshold of this road trip. In re to that opening sentence 'bout never getting past some things, came across article by Joan Didion in the Sunday NY Times magazine, After Life; ah yah, ye can imagine much of what she writes about therein resonates deeply within our own psyche, and it just one of those very odd little co-inky-dinky kinds of things, that date of December 30, '03 also the day our papa Vincenzo departed this vale of tears.
alright, wrap this up with some bits of linky goodness, apologies if you've already come upon yourself. Credit to C. Jensen's BookNotes for pointing us in the direction of "you're an asshole"; thanks to Stumpy D's environy for the Dylan (& Johnny L.) Chord pages, and jessferdahalibut we gonna share the Richard Thompson Guitar Tab Archive, the C S N song collection website; any Neil Young fans out dere? well then, if you don't already know this one, the HyperRust song archive (don't miss visiting HyperRust, and sorry, boyz und gurlz, cannot recall where we saw link to NPR site re Neil's latest album, maybe ye find it outhere yourowndarnedself.
Ok, got to get this done and hit the road, maybe make to Silver City before the sun goes down; maybe handy for some of ye, Dropload; always happy to see others as disgusted with that great waste of space known as G. W. Bush, depresident.com; in a similiar vein, The Lefty Directory, and then, we bid thee adieu with the Progressive Blog Alliance HQ, and don't forget to check in on the bright minds you'll find at l'alliance. Alright now, wishing ourself "bon voyage", be seein' ya!
be a pal and pass along this information... 9.21.05
& let's all support the fine folk mobilized as Code Pink and their One Million Reasons. Sure, it remains quite bloody unlikely that the dunderheads in WashDC will realize the error of their ways, but that should not deter ye from speaking up and encouraging those you know to do the same. Muchas Gracias to T.L. out there in Kalifa Norte for the heads up...
gave the ol' thumb a workout on the remote... 9.19.05
last night, avoiding most of the tedium that was the emmy award telecast yet fortunate enough to catch the edgy & topical piece featuring Jon Stewart (whose Daily Show won an emmy, and that's a step in the right direction, second year in a row, wethinks...). Hey, remember that tune we wuz talkin' 'bout yesterday? Okay, we hopin' the link works, courtesy of bro K (and if it ain't working, let us know; Huey "Piano" Brown & the Clowns, Don't You Just Know It, Rock On, Huey!
Enjoyed visit from Ken & Ken Jr yesterday afternoon, Brother Dave and young scion Matteo showed up, eventually Elizabeth (mrs. Ken), Leala & Rebecca dropped by, take-out pizza served up, a pleasant afternoon shared en famille. Got hold of the sunday NY Times, again, much good stuff in there, where to begin with assignment of reading material? hmmmm, maybe we start with this worrisome business, Here Is Your New Federal Credit Card. Here Is Your New Purchase Limit and if that don't rock your boat, howzabout Poor Planning and Corruption Hobble Reconstruction of Iraq (yah, we hear that chorus of "Tell Us Something We Don't ALREADY Know!"); couple of Op-Ed voices next; running neck and neck w/Jon Carroll as l'Marquis' columnisto favorito, Frank Rich and this week's Message: I Care About Black Folks (and if you're not inclined to read any of these, you really ought to peruse that one, at the very least...); then N.D. Kristof's A Wimp On Genocide. Lots of good stuff to read in the magazine too, fans of U2/Bono might want to check out The Statesman. Don't forget that ye can eliminate those pesky registration issues via the fine tool that is BugMeNot. We wish all of ye a good week, Ciao!
another stupid headline on the front page... 9.18.05
of the elpasotimes: EP ready for disaster. Humourless & unappreciative wags like ourowndarnself might quip sumptink like "EP IS a disaster", that's a topic for another time and place, likely another weblog, perhaps the very fine elpasosucksworsethanswollenhemmorroids.pitas.com, ANYWAY-
there's a radio station on the AM band we've occasion to listen to now and then, surprisingly good Oldies format out of J-town (Juarez), Mexico, 1110 on that oft forgotten AM band. Not sure how it happened, but one day a month or so ago, yourstruly was rumbling around the house having recalled this old tune, singing to ourselves that nonsense chorus "ahh ah ah ah... (ha ha ha ha...) Hey- Eyyy- Yo... (Hey- Eyyy- Yo...) Kooba Kooba Kooba KOOBA... (Kooba Kooba Kooba KOOBA...) ahh ah ah ah... (ha ha ha ha...) AHH ah ah ah (ha ha ha ha...), HEY_EYY Yo! Then t'was next day or so drivin' around in the monkeymobile wit de Momz alongside, listening to aforementioned 1110 AM, lo and behold, it's Huey "Piano" Smith and the Clowns singing dat same song! Karmik Koincidence? Oftentimes these days the radio in the birdroom (what was once our Popz 'office/den/playpen', where the caged birds cheep all day long) is tuned to 1110, particularly if l'Marquis happens to be in there checking out some o'his bloggos favoritos, and man, does it cheer us up (and isn't it nice to find something that comes along and cheers one up that doesn't cost you any money?)when the DJ dusts off that ol' classic and we hear Huey, Bobby & the gang again, oh and yesssss Binky, you can bet ye bottom peso that we be dancin' & singin' along. Mebbe we be really lucky and find that tune out there to share with ye, likely have to ask after de assistance o'bruddah ken, cuz he got de fatpipe dese deys, though we did come across these two interesting bits of linky goodness re Mr. Smith & the Clowns: Huey Smith - The Comeback that Wasn't; Excerpt from Louisiana Chapter of Music USA, The 1950's: The Heyday of New Orleans R & B. Man oh man, if this tune doesn't put a smile on that ol' soured up kisser of yours, sweetcheeks, mebbe you a coldhearted KissAssRove/DickheadCheney kind of republican at heart...
big props to some of the usual suspects, like the esteemed C.J. over at BookNotes, we appreciate your due diligence, amigo estimado! We appreciates the occasional heads up from Renee Elise (who also happens to be hangin' out in Texass these days, altho' in a much more humid and redder-necked part of the state...) providing gentle reminder to look in on MFTIU/GYWO more often than has been our habit of late. OH! meant to include link to dumbfoundry in that last wee batch of chunks o'linky goodness appended to the end of that last post of ours, and now we feelin' all kinds of bettah now that we've remedied that omission. We'll try to be back with more later...
watch out for the 92 year old drivin' a '79 Buick... 9.14.05
longtime family friend and the Momz' walkin' buddy, Arthur E., had hisowndamnedself a little fender bender the other day. The collision dazed him enough that he neglected to get any information at all from the guy who ran into him (who, likely being an uninsured motorist -- their numbers are rampant here on the borderland -- was happy to say 'hey, nuttin' wrong with my car, be seein' ya Dude!'), and when some concerned citizens in the neighborhood of the accident came out of their house and asked him if he would like to call the police, he said no. Momz gets a call an hour or so later after he's home, asking for some assistance on what to do next, he asks after jp hisowndamnedshaggyself as well. Advised him to count his blessings what with minor damage to his old car (insurance co. would likely write off the buggy as totalled...), minor abrasion to his left arm and being able to walk away from it and drive himself home, ugly fact of the matter was that without any info on the other driver and no police report the uninsured motorist provision on his insurance is likely not going to apply, and goshdarnitall, ol' Arthur isn't carryiing collision coverage in his policy. Sorry, ol' buddy, gonna have to be EXTRA careful when you on the way home from the VFW.
Dear friends, looks like it is football season once again, and around here there is no way to avoid that ugly reality. Sundays are going to be some major kind of drag, particularly when some of the family drop over and plant themselves in front of the box. Already bad enough that some of them have acquired those awful cell phone manners, you know what we mean, in this case, we talking 'bout coming over to see their Gramz, maybe they do that once a week, maybe a couple of weeks go by before they spend a few hours in her company, seems no matter what else be going on, family conversation, hanging out with the Gramz in the kitchen, whatever, if their damned cellphone goes off, shite, it's like they working for the FBI and terrorists have attached or some shit -- GOTTA GET THIS CALL! 'scuse me if I disappear for a half hour or so. Mind your Pz & Qz young ones (you know who we be talkin' to, even some of the bruddahs be guilty of this bad behavior!) the Momz (Gramz to some of ye), she deserves better. Anyway, what wuz we talkin' about. oh yah, football. Such a drag, this national obsessions with big beefy dudes bashing upon one another, those ex-jocks who couldn't find a career for themselves elsewhere filling the airwaves with nincompoop-isms and stupidities, all that post-game analysis, egads. Yourstruly watched some badminton the other day, unable to stomach the monday-day-after-all-the-sunday-game analyzing that was going on during Around the Horn and Pardon the Interruption, so instead we caught the world championship badminton match between U.S. and Indonesia. Damn-O-Lay! we never (!!!) knew that shuttlecock thingie could be coming at ye at speeds in excess of 140 miles per hour, shite, talk about lightning reflexes. It was fun to watch tho', certainly a lot more entertaining than those steroid-stuffed behemoths in helmets and pads bashing upon one another. Will wager that incompetent fool (oh dear, looked like it pained him something terrible to spit out that half-assed admission of responsibility the other day...) living in the white house is a bigtime football fan, and l'Marquis will wager further, he's a fan of the Houston Texans, more than likely... oh, and let us avoid casting aspersions upon l'Marquis' manly-primatehood in light of his aversion to football, and we quote "yo! i got your manhood hangin'..."
Hmmmmm, what else did we forget to mention that other night we wuz visitin' here, Oh Yeah!. Homemade enchiladas cooked up by yourstruly on Sunday were Pretty Damned Good. Chicken, they were, in green enchi sauce (sauce was canned, katz und kitteez, we not ready yet for the labor intensivity of making chile sauce from scatch, not yet anyway...), make 'em for you sometime, if you lucky...
George W. Bush is a Fucking Idiot. (!!!) 9.12.05 So... no time like the present, after all, one wearies of one's own procrastinatory impulses after a bit, and we really want to get in here and get something/some things off that non-hirsute, manly chest of ours.
okay then, a couple of anniversaries have passed and we have made little mention of either of them, but most significant to yourstruly was the death of wee beastie and dear pal-of-ours the Cam-dogg, and then, of course, was that singular event of the decade to date, that anniversary passing just the other day. T'was interesting to go back and revisit ourowndamnselves in Sept. of '01 (actually part of our very tedious attending to cleaning up dead and inaccurate linky bits after the fidpac/Gunnels server debacle of the other month). Don't know about ye, Binky, and particularly now in light of our lovely government's response to that horrific hurricane in the Gulf, got to say we not feeling any safer than we did four years ago, no matter how often we take off our shoes & belt whenever we happen to be flying these days.
Most of ye are likely already aware as yourstruly is, some of ye undoubtedly even more so, all that bullshit re Mr. Brown & his recent resignation (we can imagine that phone call he received shortly after his recall to Washington, "oh, and by the way, Brownie, I'd sure like to see that letter on my desk first thing Monday morning") What a legacy this bumbling, braying jackass is going to leave behind, cannot imagine how much more angry and resentful ourowndamnself would feel in realizing that my children (don't have 'em, don't want 'em) and their children are the ones destined to shoulder the burden of that bloodstained legacy. Four years down the road, many thousands dead & injured in Iraq & Afghanistan and whither that wily ol' bastard Bin Ladin, and that shameless note from anonymous minion - that wonky link has been corrected and we want ye to know that this related NY Times magazine piece is also worthy of a lengthy and studied perusal...
shitheel no doubt keeps to his regularly scheduled bedtime and sleeps the unsullied slumber of one without conscience, incapable as he is of the self-realization of his immense culpability in fostering one of the most idiotic political agendas in the history of humankind. Borrowing a line from Easy Rider, "this used to be one hell of a fine country", which is, of course, a sentiment more likely to hold water if you weren't amongst the disenfranchised at whatever point in our history it happened to be when giving voice to such a sentiment. Entropy? is that our fate, Binky?
It was our pleasant surprise to discover that one local post office had been constructed with an installation of photovoltaic panels on the roof, photo of panel in the lobby to your left there provides some information as to the amount of power the installation provides alongside numbers indicating amount used from the "grid". Unfortunately the folks behind the counter could provide no further information re the size of the installation, nor clear up precisely what the figures displayed on the information panel actually translate to in terms of dollars. l'Marquis would like to think he is going to follow up on this; maybe local electric company or some office in the local post office management hierarchy will be able to provide some real data, maybe even give a chance to get up on the roof to take a look at the installation. Happy little co-inkydinky bit of linky goodness out of the Sunday NY Times as well, from the business section, Suddenly, Those Solar Panels Don't Look So 1970's. Considering that conundrum we face re energy and our collective addiction to oil, wouldn't it behoove the powers that be to invest a good deal more $$$ in furthering the development of these alternatives? Here in the west texass desert, as well as in many other places thruout the desert southwest (Phoenix, Tucson, Las Cruces, Las Vegas, just to name a few of the better known cities...) it seems such a no-brainer, especially when you run across stories like this from the S.F. Chronicle or this one from Mother Jones. Don't mind giving away how long in the tooth yourstuly is getting to be, but we can recall the gasoline crisis of '73, suppose it's just another example of that old saw about those that forget history are destined to re-live it. Personally, as far as the price of gas these days is concerned, we wish most of that was going into taxes to help rebulid some decrepit hational infrastracture, maybe some kind of national healthcare policy (whoooboyOboy, you must be hallucinating big time JohnnyBoy...) rather than another round of record oil-industry profits.
fuck it, really, it's so goddamned frustrating knowing full well the tremendous amount of ignorance and apathy we are all immersed in. Maybe time to change the subject, for the here and now anyway. Ahhhhh, okay, so let's talk romance, or the reason Johnny Can't Love Just One Woman Is Because He Loves Them All. Nope, that ain't quite right, maybe it's more like that there are so many that he does love, that he could never be true to just one. Hah! Got your attention now, don't we Binky-poo? It's a pleasure to see that one of those many women we love has published a new novel, we speaking about Louise Erdrich's The Painted Drum, and Oh! could we ever wax rhapsodic 'bout our admiration of Ms. Erdrich but that's something you'll only find on our other fine weblog product (paid subscription only), themanylovesofl'marquisd'monquis.pitas.com. For those of ye who are unfamiliar with Ms. Erdrich & her work, l'Marquis would suggest perhaps you begin with, ahh, let's see, how about Tales of Burning Love, then write us, let us know what ye think...
Okay, wrapping it up pronto quickly now, but afore we depart, seen a couple of movies lately, again happy to recommend A Constant Gardener which is currently in your local cinema; very happy to re-view The Princess and the Warrior (directed by Tom Twyker, whose Run, Lola, Run also happens to be worthy of recommending) AKA Der Krieger und Die Kaiserin; Crash is now available on DVD & vid cassette (can you say "another obsolete technology? sure, we knew you could...), definitely one of the best things we have seen this year. Another pleasant surprise we didn't get opportunity to see locally (that's the trouble with the hinterlands, you have to work SO much harder to keep up with things, avoid falling into the chasm of ignorance, provincial small-mindedness) is Layer Cake and we'll just let you discover what that one is about all on your very own, but we will mention ye better pay close attention or you'll be wondering wha' da fuggg? and we wouldn't want that, would we Binky?
ambling along in leisurely perusal of websites favoritos... 9.8.05
and leisurely is the only way to do it, relying on a dial-up, and yessssss, yourstruly might be accused of husbanding his resources. We'd jump all over DSL hereabouts, but it is not available in this part of N.E. EPT, damn-o-lay, and we not willing to commit to cable connection, not just yet anyway...
Okay, we begin today with a reading assignment, from the 9.5 issue of the New Yorker briefly mentioned yesterday (the foodie issue), H. Hertzberg's Comment, War and Antiwar; and then, there's a bunch of timely stuff in the current Village Voice, again, nice that it remains available to cheapskates like yourstruly (anybody out there remember the wonderful food column in the Voice years ago by Vladimir Estragon???), you could begin with James Ridgeway's Pumping Us Dry, then maybe check out Anya Kamenetz's My Flood of Tears. The esteemed Craig Jensen is providing us with lots of linky goodness over at his BookNotes (Hooray for Mr Jensen! Hooray for BookNotes!), big hurrahs for Mark W.'s wood s lot too, always worth a lengthy perusal. While we be at, got to mention the latest Ralph is awaiting your enjoyment, and now, well, gee-gosh-oh-whillikers, we gotzta go, katz und kitteez, be seeing ya!
briefly now, posted early in the morn whilst the mood allows...
once again, left coast pal, the fair Euphorbita, passes along some timely linky goodness: via the fine minds responsible for gofugyourself (advice l'Marquis would love opportunity to pass along to el residente incompetento, dickie cheney, donnie rumsfeld, condiwondi rice, karlito rove and the rest of that pack of, ahhhhhh, well, we'd actually be disparagiing hyenas and jackals, who cannot help but live up to their beastly natures, but ye likely recognize the sentiment, don't ye Binky?), lots of links to folks accepting contributions to assist our fellow primates on the gulf coast...
thunder and lightning and some substantial rainfall... 9.7.05
all started around five o'clock last evening, went on for a number of hours, still raining and thundery by the time we decided to retire for the evening, quite nice it was, although the Chula dogg would disagree, as she seems to be particularly discomfited by the thunderous rumblings of the heavens; what's a wee doggy to think, besides "Let Me In The House, Bastardo Humans!!!" btw, Chula & companion Patches have a fine, roomy & dry doggycondo for shelter...
okay, today's homework assignment begins with reading material from Sunday NYT magazine: Political Science by Daniel Smith. Most of ye have no doubt run across mention of the Anne Rice essay out of the NYT, this comes from same Sunday issue's Style section, What It Means To Miss New Orleans. Then there's the usual stuff oft mentioned here, Frank Rich's column para exemplo, but those of ye interested enough to seek it out have likely already done so yourowndarnselves, and Remember, Boyz Und Gurlz, you can banish those pesky registration issues by using the excellent BugMeNot. Came across the Metroblogging folks a few days ago (damn, this ol' apefellah just cannot keep up wit' de young folks dese days, no mattah how hard he try...) so we point ye in the direction of Metroblogging New Orleans. Visiting the various metroblogging sites reminds yourstruly that we've not been keeping up our end over at UnknownCity.com but we did notice they sporting a slight redesign thereabouts. Hooray UnknownCity folk! Hooray Austin, Tx!
ahhhhh, let's see now, what else was it we wanted to be sure to mention. Oh yah, something out of the ordinary for ye movie fans, certainly a step or two above the usual crapola feisted upon us by the majors these days. If you happened to see City of God (which by the way is now available on many cable TV outlets, we caught it again on Starz recently) you've been introduced to Fernando Meirelles'
craftsmanship. The Constant Gardener is his first venture outside of Brazil and a worthy effort it is. Those of ye with a soft spot for the lovely features of Rachel Weisz will be happy to pony up for their admission and we'll not give anything away plotwise (but if you're fans of J. LeCarre, you likely already know the story), we'll leave it all up to ye to discover for yourselves.
The latest issue of the New Yorker (that of 9.5) that arrived in our mailbox is devoted to food & folks (like ourowndamnself) who enjoy yummy victuals (oh we made the best meatballs and marinara on Monday, all from scratch -- well, we did use some canned tomatoes alongside the fresh ones -- mmmmm mmmmm mmmmuy bueno, muy sabroso!), but whilst checking New Yorker on-line we noticed much that is likely in the issue yet to grace our mailbox, you can check it out yourselves here. Since we closing out this morning's activity here with Katrina related mention, gonna include just a couple of other items that have been passed along our way, first from pal Euphorbita out on the left coast (who's always kind enough to keep yourstruly aware of many things that might have gone unnoticed by us otherwise), and in light of the current cad-minstration's stance on things that don't go along with their agenda, Planned Parenthood needs our help. Over this very busy recent weekend we had occasion to attend one of the invitational races held locally for high school cross-country athletes, our young nephew & high-school senior Miguelito's rated as the #1 cross-country runner locally & he finished a good 30-40 seconds ahead of his closest competitor in the Canutillo High Invitational held Saturday. The season is just beginning and we'll all be out there in support of him as often as we can, but (jeeeezus, dude, just get to the point, willya!?), another bit of linky goodness sent our way by aforementioned pal Euphorbita has to do with young folks like our nephew Mike and protecting them from those who would recruit them as cannon fodder, Leave My Child Alone. Another pal of ours included this next link in a post on her owndarnedweblogthingie some months ago (she ought to be posting more often, but we know she be busy making beady-arty kinds of things), and we think it is kinda kool too, check out maramushi.com's newsmap. Alright now, we wrap it up with some words from Molly Ivins, courtesy TruthOut, and Jon Carroll laboring mightily for the S.F. Chron/SFgate. Ciao, bella! and from the overflowing d'monkey mailbox, we present Stenchfinger...
later that same day... 9.2.05
good stuff, Maynard (and ye can take that to the bank, Binky):
from the wizard behind the curtain at BookNotes, Could this clown of a president be any more lame?
(the quick & dirty answer is, of course, no...)
alongside friendly reminder to stop by & visit El Espanto en la Machina,
astute, acerbic & attentive as ever, that young buck K.M. did any of ye see that photo of the braying jackass hisowndamnself with geeetar in hand?
we feel badly for our fellow primates whenever we see a caricature of el residente resembling a chimpanzee, gives our great ape brethren a bad name in our estimation...
quickly now, vite, vite... Katrina Help Wiki, pointed out to us at MeFi;
from the eternal wonder that is wood s lot (from his 9.1 post), We need to hold the President's feet to the fire right now. Doing political photo ops while a major U.S. city floods is despicable. Doing photo ops while the destruction and loss of life in Mississippi and Louisiana was still unkown is simply unforgiveable. (And now he's got a fake relief photo on the White House web site banner.)
If, as initial reports have it, FEMA has been weakened and rolled into Homeland Security...we need to demand accountability. FEMA is a good program. It works. The citizens of Louisiana and Mississippi need FEMA right now, and will need the kind of support FEMA provides in the weeks and months to come. If it's been rolled into Homeland Security....then exactly WHO is the point person here? Where is the aid coming from? The response at this point seems to be ad hoc...ie. they're making it up as they go.... more from Kid Oakland;
Mark credits the fine mind behind Medley for the linky goodness.
mebbe mo' from us later on, Binky...
here there be monsters... 9.1.05
Yes, out there in the margins, hidden in those dark shadows, where we seldom visit as even the merest of glimpses is too unsettling, too fearsome, lie horrors and unspeakable things. How does it happen that our prolonged ignorance, our practiced inattention of the denizens lurking in those places where the darkest of shadows are found allows us to acquire some sense of immunity, of being insulated and safe from any scarring or bleeding resulting from coming face to face with one of the indisputably horrible realities awaiting us there in the shadows. Living in the Bay Area for most of the last thirty years of the life of yourstruly, experiencing the tumultuous unbalancing that beset us during the Loma Prieta earthquake, know ye that we assiduously avoided glimpsing very long into those dim and dark shadowy places where all manner of horrors might manifest themselves when contemplating one of nature's fearsome and mightiest realignments.
Watch closely and pay attention, ye pretty little things, ye will have to pay attention very closely, to discover some of the truths underlying the disaster that has befallen the southern coast. Yes, that hurricane was nature at its most impressive, terrific in the truest sense of the word, but what will ye wager that somewhere underlying this disaster is some dumbass humankind lack of planning, maybe some budget cuts where there ought not to have been, some shoddy work done by some shadyass contractors, that sleazy kind of one hand washing the other that you see in a lot of government biz. l'Marquis has long had opportunity to ponder his good fortune, despite how bleak many hundreds of hours of his life have seemed of late, here in the early years of the new millenium, oh but he's a grateful lad, a truly thankful ape fellah, that he's happened to live the life that kept him west of the mighty Mississippi, largely a left coast life, that he didn't transplant himself to that rich and overly fertile soil of the Delta, where, oh, who knows, really, perhaps he might've been some guitarist in a second rate blues band entertaining tourists visiting the French Quarter, volunteering at the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, enjoying a few beignets & chicory laced coffee at Cafe du Monde most mornings, occasionally glancing at the river traffic steaming past, now and again marveling at the hubris and chutzpah necessary to believe that levee'd never break, those pumps would take care of the flood if one did, that all was fine and well in Crescent City, Laissez Le Bon Temps Roulet, BabyKakes...
Some improvements have returned, you'll once again see the occasional graphic hereabouts, have begun the long process of restoring files, recreating much of what has transpired hereabouts over the last five years. Think of us as a troublesome carbuncle, one that you cannot quite rid yourself of, no matter how regular your application of topical ointments, or, for that matter, taking things in your own hands, pinching & squeezing, frustrated because you just cannot rid yourself of that irritatingly tiresome swelling. Learn to love it, Binky, accept and cherish it, just another manifestation of god's love for his lil' chirren, like earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, droughts, epidemics, lying politicians, unfaithful lovers, inflamed gallbladders, gosh, this list could go on and on, No?
we'll be back sooner than later, consider yourselves forewarned, keep in mind that after our experience with a certain Steve Gunnels of Houston, Tx. and his companies (Fidpac, super.nu, etc.), they are Not To Be Trusted. His actions (along with the subsequent lack of apology and explanation to the many whom he has not only inconvienienced but also very likely -- there is some evidence to back these things up Binky -- perhaps defrauded and dishonestly taken money from) speak louder than words, folks here can testify to that. Neighbors look out for one another, no? Wouldn't the world we share truly be a much better place if we all took that to heart? Goddammit, what a fuckin' mess we've made of things... Chuck Taggart's Looka! has long been a fine source of New Orleans related linky goodness...
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battling evil entities and scurrulious characters whilst obtaining the occasional glimpse of one's mortality, yea, verily, all t'was august...
