INSITEVIEW- - tom shugart's weblog

2009-10-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

Serendipity From Larry Chase

I'm starting a feasibility analysis for a new marketing project and going through the usual gyrations about the best place to begin. With serendipitous timing, Larry Chase's newsletter shows up in my in-box today. Subject matter: "Competitive Intelligence Gathering." Perfect. Off we go.

2007-06-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

Thank You Ralph

Here's a Wisconsin item that our normally reliable Dairyland correspondent, Frank Paynter, let slip by. We have to cut him a bit of slack, however. He was probably caught up in the excitement of being appointed an Honorary Fellow at the University of Wisconsin.

Ralph Stayer, founder and creator of the divine Johnsonville Brats, passed away the other day. Five years ago, when I was just getting my feet wet as a blogger, I blogged about my love for the Wisconsin brat, inspired by a piece by the late, great journalist, R.W. Apple.

Apple declared the Johnsonville the best of breed, and Paynter chimed in with his agreement.

RIP, Mr. Stayer. What I didn't realize about you was that, not only did you make the best brat of the lot ( a rhyme in case you don't know the correct pronunciation of this special concoction), you were responsible for bringing the brat into the American consciousness. Apparently, before you came along, the quality of sausage in this country was abominable.

Writing this post is making me drool. I am fantasizing about sitting on the deck of some brat joint along the shoreline of the pleasant lakeside town of Sheboygan, Johnsonville's home; then a drive through the bucolic countryside over to Frank's farm to watch him do his tractor jockey routine; then into Madison for seconds at the patio of State Street Brats.

(Follow the above Johnsonville link, btw, for some mouth-watering photos and great recipes).

2007-06-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

A Luxury of Age

In my last post, some twelve days ago, I said the blog would be dark for the weekend while I attended my nephew's graduation from UCLA--and some family schmoozing afterward. The weekend turned in to nearly a fortnight as I decided on a whim to take some extra time off.

This is what you younger folks have to look forward to--the luxury of being able to make spontaneous choices like this. Ronni Bennett's great blog sports the tagline "what it's really like to get older." In my view, it's not so different from the other stages of life--in the sense that it has its own unique set of advantages and disadvantages.

So far, I'd say that getting older has a lot going for it, provided one can put one's anxiety aside about what the body's decline may portend in the not too distant future, and just enjoy the advantages that one's current situation is presenting.

Isn't it much the same dynamic as when you're young? There are plenty of things to be anxious about: what kind of career am I going to have? Will I find a mate? Will I be able to meet my financial needs? What will become of my social life as my friends scatter to the four corners of the earth? Etc, etc. You could get lost in the fear, or you could take advantage of all the wonderful things that youth enables.

So, if you'll excuse the philosophical digression, I'm back and hopefully will begin posting again on a regular basis. I'm trying hard not to fall into my previous lapses of extended silence.

2007-06-15T17:43:00.000-07:00

Til Monday

I'm rushing off to the UCLA commencement for yet another family graduation (nephew Jason).
My laptop's in the shop, so Insiteview is dark until Monday. Enjoy your weekend!

2007-06-14T18:42:00.001-07:00

Remembering Venice

Many thanks to Renee Blodgett for her warm account today of a recent stop in Venice Beach. Of course, Renee's a pro and knows how to paint a picture. She also provides some actual pics as well. Good stuff. Her positive reactions to this wacky scene tell me she's an enlightened person. Not that we really needed any further evidence.

I sent Renee a comment of appreciation because she stirred up some fond memories for this grizzled blogger. As chance would have it, I actually discovered Venice Beach way back before it was discovered. We’re talking 1958—my god!—I was fresh out of the Army and wanted to spend some time as a misfit before heading off to college.

Back then, Venice was just a beach slum with cheap rents. The primary inhabitants were body-builders; homosexuals who needed an obscure place to hide out (this was way before Gay Pride); impoverished and elderly Old Country Jews wanting to end their days by the sea and this being the only affordable place to do so; plus a scattering of wannabee beatniks like myself. Then, gradually, the real beatniks discovered the place, and then the press discovered the beats, and then all hell broke loose—reporters, TV cameras, druggies, hangers-on, you name it.

But as her post so eloquently illustrates, the place managed to leverage its new visibility and land on its feet. It became better than it was—which almost never happens in the case of discovered places. The only down note is that nobody can afford to live there anymore.

2007-06-14T17:11:00.000-07:00

Joy In Jackson - - June 14, 2003

Nobody's reading my "Anniversary Archives." Maybe the problem is the repetition of the title. I get too much enjoyment from re-publishing some of my posts from back in the early days, so I'm not going to give it up. I'll try just using the title--and date--of the original post.

So, to continue with my road saga, here's my post from exactly four years ago:

What a change Jackson was from the poverty by which we were surrounded just the day before. If you’re not a millionaire, forget it, Jack. Actually, they have a saying here: “The billionaires are driving out the millionaires.” My old Buddy, Ed, and his wife, Harriet, are two among a small and hardy group of non-millionaires who manage to squeak out an existence in this playground of the rich.

Not five minutes after we arrived, Ed, with the extra-keen observant sense of the pilot and writer that he sometimes is, pipes up with, I’ll bet you guys are in the mood for some good food.” Man, you go that right.

We piled into their SUV (naturally, everyone has one here) and drove north up the Hole for about fifteen minutes, straight toward the Grand Teton. We pulled up to a joint called Dornan’s and walked inside. There, curving behind the large L-shaped bar was an eight-foot high picture window with a backdrop so overwhelming that it almost made you faint when you entered the room. We were nearly at the base of the immense mountain, and the back-bar window perfectly framed it in its entirety. I could imagine becoming an alcoholic just by sitting at this bar and watching the color and light changes of the mountain throughout the span of entire days.

Oddly, only two people were at the bar. The reason soon became clear. The weather was pleasant and there was a large deck on the roof of the place with lots of tables. I’ve never had a lunch in a more spectacular setting. And to add to my pleasure, they must have flown in fresh romaine and other high-quality salad greens from California. I ordered a huge salad and vacuumed it up like a refugee from a concentration camp.

As day grew into evening, we gathered ‘round Ed’s dining room table for some barbecued lamb. Ed and I were tossing down vodka martinis and feeling no pain. Ed and Harriet’s son joined us and Ed uncorked some old Zinfandels that he’d been holding onto for just such an occasion. “No locals get this stuff,” he proclaimed. “Only my old drinking buddies.”

Needless to say, we were soon in our cups. Our respective sons got quite an earful as they listened to their glassy-eyed dads trading stories about the early days of drugs, rock, protest, etc. Then, feeling no pain themselves, they began to pitch in with stories of their own. It was a great bonding moment. When my sons were infants, I used to fantasize about someday being able to knock back some booze together and trade stories. Now it was actually happening and it was better than the fantasies.

Of course, we couldn’t look a drink in the face the next day and instead, rented North by Northwest. Jon had never seen it and we had just been to Mt, Rushmore, so it was the perfect choice. I’ve seen this flick at least six times and it holds up beautifully each time.

We got a good night’s sleep, bid a fond goodbye to our wonderful hosts, and set out for the final leg of our journey. In forty-eight hours, we would be eating California food again, sleeping in our own beds, and, in my case, enjoying the embraces of my dear and sorely missed wife.

On the Road—Postscript

I would be remiss if I closed out my road diaries without acknowledging my son Jonathan—my trusty shotgun rider, relief driver, and most importantly, disc jockey. Like most young people, Jon has one of those zippered binder CD holders that’s about as thick as five Sears catalogues. It was right under his feet throughout the entire trip. I revealed my out-of-it-ness by asking how he could afford so many CDs.

The dismissive reply was predictable: “Dad, nobody buys CDs anymore. Haven’t you heard of file-sharing and downloading?”

“Of course I have. I just haven’t spent any time thinking about it. I thought it was illegal or something.”

A shake of the young head and rolling of the eyes. End of conversation.

Happily, that was the only sour note. The lad’s collection was a revelation as well as another arena of filial bonding. It included the complete discography of The Doors, Led Zeppelin, and Credence Clearwater Revival, plus many of my favorites from The Rolling Stones, Dire Straits, and others. The father’s heart was gladdened by the son’s appreciation of formative rock and roll.

I’ve referred in earlier posts to the absence of a current generation gap in comparison to anything like the way it was in the Sixties. I’m sure that anyone of my generation will nod in recognition when I say that, when we were young, the notion of parent and child enjoying the same pop groups would have been about as likely as the two of them sharing a joint or hit of acid.

In addition, Jon introduced me to some really cool present-day stuff—e.g., Beck. Beck is well known, of course, and I’ve certainly heard of him. I even have a single of his on a Hank Williams tribute album. But I’ve never listened to his wider work. Like many deserving contemporary artists, he gets scant airplay in today’s corporatized, homogenized radio universe. Oldsters like me are thus left in the dark. How true it is that having kids helps keep you young!

Another introduction from Jon’s collection that I particularly enjoyed was Portishead. There were others—very hip DJ mixes, for example, about which I was completely ignorant. But the hipness and the intoxicating beats were a pleasant counterpoint to the many hours of highway boredom.

What really blew me away was when Jon whipped out both his Miles Davis collection and The Modern Jazz Quartet. I had no idea his eclecticism had expanded to this level! There’s nothing like the feeling of parental pride. I never proselytized my kids about my musical tastes. Jon came to Miles and MJQ on his own, and I was duly impressed.

So kudos to Jonathan. He made a long trip eminently enjoyable.

2007-06-12T17:07:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - June 12, 2003

Jonathan and I continue westward . . . .

Wandering Onward

Leaving the dreary plains behind, Jon and I headed south out of Rapid City for the half-hour drive to the famed Mount Rushmore. It was worth the side trip. Much more imposing than the photos. I particularly enjoyed the fact that the high-ceilinged, glass-walled restaurant looking out onto the monument that was the scene of the fake shooting of Cary Grant by Eva Marie Saint in the Hitchcock classic, North by Northwest, was still intact. Jon had never seen the movie and I delighted in recounting the scene to him.

As I looked out onto the carved faces of the four prezes, I couldn’t help but see visions of Cary Grant attempting to rescue the divine Ms.Saint, and being pursued by bad guys as he scampers over the forbidding rocks in his Gucci loafers, dapper as ever, every hair in place, suit and tie perfectly pressed.

As we left the Black Hills, we descended into the utterly boring central plain of the immense and sparsely populated state of Wyoming. Wyoming has some of the world’s most gorgeous scenery, but in the middle of it are these huge, ugly flats, scarred by all sorts of excavations from things being ripped out from the underbelly—coal, lead, uranium, oil, gas, you name it. The poor buggers who do the dirty work are, of course, much poorer than the dirt they excavate. They drive forlorn, beat-up trucks and live in ramshackle towns that look almost like “third-world” countries.

We can be sure, though, that the folks for whom they’re doing the digging are making out just fine. One of these would be Dick Cheney. As we drove through Casper, the Veep’s hometown, we passed The Casper Petroleum Club, and I thought to myself, “that sonovabitch was a big oil guy from the beginning.”

At day’s end, we reached Indian country—the Wind River Valley, home of the Shoshone and Arapaho—and bedded down for the night. Unlike some of the Indian country of New Mexico, there was no haute cuisine here, to be sure. Just a lot of grinding poverty.

Next morning, we headed up the valley toward Jackson Hole—one of the most spectacular drives to be found anywhere. As you leave the sandstone bluffs of the valley and climb into the mountains, you gradually rise to nearly ten thousand feet. Even though it was now June, the snow was thick, the alpine air unbelievably refreshing, and the views eye-popping.

Then--descending on the western side of the pass, the moment we were waiting for. The great valley floor of Jackson Hole came into view, with the mighty Grand Tetons thrusting skyward on the far side of the Hole, rising abruptly, thousands of feet straight up from the valley with no foothills to impede the view. What a sight! Surely one of the geographical wonders of the world.

We were on our way to the resort town of Jackson to spend a couple of days with my old college buddy, Ed Minczeski. Good food, drink, vibes, and story telling, in the midst of majestic scenery, were about to be ours. . . . (to be continued)

2007-06-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - June 11, 2003

OK, time for the next installment of my '03 road trip with son Jonathan.

Before inserting the re-publish, however, I have to add my two cents about last night's ending of The Sopranos. Opinions are all over the lot--which is probably just as David Chase intended it. Once again, he proved himself to be the master of multi-texturism.

David Weinberger asks: "Am I the only person who liked it?" Definitely not, David. I thought it was ingenious. I'll leave it to critics Tim Goodman and Alessandra Stanley to convey what I felt. I'm in complete synch with their observations, and I heartily recommend reading them.

Now, let's get back on the road, four years ago:

The Fat of the Land

Before setting out across six hundred miles of tedious prairie, Jon and I decided to settle in for the night in the old meatpacking town of Austin, Minn—the birthplace of the real Spam, the home of Hormel and one of the bitterest, most notorious strikes in American history.

Next morning, over a truly crappy breakfast in a restaurant in which we were the only non-obese people in the entire place, we realized that, not only did we have hours and hours of boring, treeless, windswept landscape ahead of us, we were also not likely to see a good meal again until we crossed into California (with the exception of Jackson Hole about which more later). Nor were we likely to see many bodies of normal size.

Each time I find myself back in the heartland, it seems to get worse. The food seems to get more and more tasteless and toxic, and the inhabitants more and more rotund. How can the food be so bad—and so bad for you, I wonder, in the middle of one of the richest agricultural areas in the world?

It is said that the reason France has the best cuisine in the world is because the country is blessed with prime agricultural riches. Why doesn’t the same logic hold true here? Why is the food so unappealing, so unhealthy, so fat-producing?

Not trusting the accuracy of my memory, I double-checked with someone of my own age. “When we were kids,” I inquired, “weren’t the folks from the farmlands the ones who were hearty and lean? Wasn’t the food fresh and wonderful? Or am I just fantasizing?”

“No, no,” he replied. “Your memory is just fine. That’s exactly how it used to be.”

The culprit, obviously, is the corporatization of agriculture, food processing, and food service, plus the inability of today’s families to find the time to prepare good meals and sit down together for a healthy meal. Yes, the same time constraints exist in the large cities of the two coasts, but people have the discretionary income—plus the influence of foreign cultures—to buy and demand good food in their groceries and restaurants. Most of today’s farm families have to have a job in town to make ends meet. They may be growing food for others, but they only have the time and money for fast food crapola.

Each time we stopped somewhere during our prairie crossing, it made me sad to look at the people and recall the way they used to look out here when I was a lad. The richest country in the world, and our people are going to pot physically.

I needed to get my mind off of this sadness. Fortunately, as the sun drooped closer to the western horizon, the welcome sight of hills began to appear. We were getting near prairie’s end and close to a complete change of scenery—the gorgeous Black Hills.

The culture and appearance of the towns had changed from Midwestern to Western. We checked in for the night in Rapid City to rest up for the next morning’s jaunt into Mount Rushmore and a refreshing new landscape. The good food, however, would have to wait for a while longer …. (to be continued)

2007-06-10T12:35:00.000-07:00

The Agony of Anticipation

It's downright agonizing waiting for tonight's final episode of the greatest dramatic series in the history of television, i.e., The Sopranos. There's the agony of the suspense about how David Chase decides to bring this to an end. Will it be memorable? A legendary hour in and of itself? A letdown? A whimper? A bang? What will be resolved? Or will all be left unresolved? Chase is fully capable of leaving it all up in the air.

Then there's the agony of knowing that it ends forever. I'll probably be dead before anything this good comes along again. Well, in a couple of years, I'll get the DVD's, and start from the beginning, one episode per week, and re-live the pleasure all over again.

Of course, speculation about tonight's finale has been flying all over every form of media. My favorite comes from the blogosphere's own David Weinberger.

2007-06-10T10:30:00.000-07:00

Up, Then Down

The first thing greeting me on my blog feeds today was the return of alembic, Maria Benet's superb blog. I've been missing her voice. But the thrill was soon dashed upon reading what she had to say.

There's a lot of mean, crass commercialism going on in today's blog scene, and I've been bitching about it in my crude way for some time. But Maria's abilities at word-smithing far eclipse mine. In her usual poetic fashion she expresses the melancholy that I feel but haven't been able to articulate.

I've been trying to combat the melancholy by my attempts, however feeble, to revive this blog and keep it going. Whether I can manage to keep it up, it's too early to say. Blogging's not nearly so much fun, at least for me, when you've lost most of your audience.

On the one hand, there's the view of people like Frank and Syaffolee who say, "So what? Writing's what it's about, and writing has always been a solitary activity." Then there's the view, expressed to me in person by Dervala, "Just keep putting it out there. People will find you."

Well, they used to. But the atmosphere is so different now, I'm not so sure. Yes, the buzzards will find you, as they've found Maria, apparently. She's disgusted, disheartened. Says she may take down the whole thing, domain, archives, the lot.

Say it ain't so, Maria.

2007-06-09T15:19:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - June 9, 2002

It's that time of year when baseball starts to creep into the consciousness and cast it's dreamy summer spell. So it's appropriate to insert this piece from five years ago in between the road trip dispatches which I began re-publishing yesterday.

I tend to lose my non-sporting fan audience (which, somehow, seems to be the majority) when I lapse into these kinds of posts, but so be it. Well, maybe long-suffering Yankees fan, Dean Landsman, will enjoy it since it has a connection to the storied Yankee past.

Speaking of Dean, btw, I want to correct something I forgot to do--i.e., thank him for the great post about the fortieth anniversary of the release of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Band. If you were around at the time, I'll bet that you remember exactly where you were and what you were doing the first time you heard it.

It had that kind of impact, which is probably difficult for younger people to relate to after being subjected for so many years to rip-off albums--the one or two-hit wonders which are now going the way of the typewriter. Who gives a rat's ass anymore about an album release? We can just put our own mixes together, thanks to technology.

But back in '67, and for a few years thereafter, some albums were put together with integrity, as works of art in themselves--and Sgt. Pepper broke the ground. I totally agree with Dean on some of the other albums he mentioned that fall in that category, although I think there are two that he left out: Deja Vu, by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young; and The Band.

So here's my piece from this day in 2002:

Forty Years To Yankee Stadium

The San Francisco Giants are in Yankee Stadium this weekend. It's taken forty years to make the trip. The last time they were there was the memorable World Series of 1962.

It's a nostalgic turn for me. 1962--forty years ago this month I picked up my degree, bid a fond farewell to my beloved Indiana U, packed up my '55 two-tone green-and-cream Chevy Bel Air, and headed west to the city by the Bay.

It was a magical season for the Giants. Come October, they were fighting it out tooth-and-nail with the fearsome Yankees. What a Series it was! A plethora of future Hall-of -Famers--Mays, Mantle, McCovey, Cepeda, Marichal, Ford, Maris, Berra. Every game a close battle.

The city was having one of its wettest Octobers on record. Play was suspended for three or four days in a row as the skies emptied. The Yanks were forced to cool their heels in their hotel.

But Mantle and Ford, notorious carousers, with time on their hands in a fun-loving, hard-drinking town were in their element. No hanging around the hotel for them. The newspapers had a field day reporting their bar-room exploits.

We thought we'd win the Series because these two super-stars would be too messed up from boozing and whoring. Well, they don't call'em super-stars for nothing. Their bodies and hearts are a size or two stronger than mere mortals, and their play didn't suffer a bit. When the skies finally dried up, the Yanks went on to beat us by a fingernail on the last play of the last inning of the seventh game.

The current meeting going on in NY is worthy of the tradition. Close, exciting, superbly played games with capacity crowds on hand. Let's hope when October rolls around, we'll see a rematch of 1962.

2007-06-08T12:42:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - June 8, 2003

Four years ago today, I began a cross-country trip with my youngest son, Jonathan. This is the first installment in a series of five dispatches from that road trip. Makes me want to go jump in the car right now and head out to the open spaces. . . . .

Farewell Wisconsin

I owe Frank Paynter—and fellow Madisonite, Dorothea Salo—my regrets as I was actually in their fair burg but made no contact with them. Apologies, guys, but I was in and out in less than 24 hours, and was bustling about the whole time.

It’s too bad, because Frank, after breakfasting in Madison with me this winter, had suggested a spring or summertime visit to his farm for a barbecue. We’ll have to take a rain check, Frank. Keep the briquettes glowing and I’ll keep the brewskis iced, although I guess that’ll be for my lonesome as you don’t imbibe anymore. And maybe we can drag Dorothea and David out there. Have you guys gotten around to meeting yet? If not, too bad. Seems to me that you would have a lot in common—techie-talk, all-around smarts, sharp wit, writing talent, and disdain for the establishment.

Anyway, I was in Madison to help my son, Jonathan, pack up and bid goodbye to the beer halls and cannabis pads of this venerable college town. He had had no luck in finding someone to share the trip west, so I decided to inject myself as the co-traveler. The lad was duly appreciative, I’m happy to say.

The timing was right. I had been ready to unload our second car—an aging sedan—and buy a small hatchback. I also hadn’t taken a cross-country auto trip in many years, and that was something that I wanted to experience again.

When good ol’ Southwest Airlines came up with an irresistibly low fare to Chicago on one of their periodic 24-hour-take-it-or-lose-it specials, I decided to roll the dice, buy the ticket, and see if I could make an attractive car purchase over the Internet in the Chicago or Wisconsin area. Then, if the plan worked, I would pick up the car, get Jon, and head west.

My gamble worked out just fine. I got a great deal on a Matrix—a sporty new mini-wagon from Toyota. It’s on a Corolla frame, gets great mileage, yet has lots of cargo space—plus a very jazzy interior. I couldn’t be more pleased.

I purchased the car from CarMax, a giant super-store operation with a large and active Internet division—featuring extra-low prices with no-haggle pricing. What a great way to buy a car compared to the bad old days of grinding it out with obnoxious salesmen and layers of sales managers and F & I (finance and insurance) hucksters.

Everything is done by Net, phone and fax. When you show up, a friendly, no-pressure guy or gal in pleasing polo shirt is there to run you through the car’s operation, give you the keys, and send you on your way. About a fifteen-minute proposition. It’s no wonder that the old-line, Neanderthals of the motor trade are falling by the wayside. They will not be missed.

Since the car needed to be broken in at lower speeds and varied RPMs, we decided to cross the state on two-lane roads. We followed the bucolic Wisconsin River Valley to its mouth-the bluffs where the first white man, Father Jacques Marquette, laid eyes on the Mighty Mississippi in 1673—at Prairie du Chien. Then we went up alongside the great river for a couple of hours to La Crosse, where we enjoyed a final Wisconsin microbrew and pleasant dinner before bidding a fond goodbye to the Badger State.

The drive along the great river was something I had always wanted to do, but never had. I wasn’t disappointed. If we hadn’t had a schedule to keep, I would have been content to have ambled up one side of the river and down the other for days, enjoying the majestic vistas, staying in the quaint river towns, sipping brews in the old waterfront taverns, watching the river traffic float by, and fantasizing about all the history that’s gone up and down this great waterway.

But, alas, it was time to point the car westward. We crossed the wide, wide waters and ventured into southern Minnesota. After a thirty-mile belt of lovely, forested river bluffs, the endless prairie was about to begin. . . . (to be continued)

2007-06-07T18:56:00.000-07:00

More Around and About

As I struggle to get hip to the new Social Web phenomenon, today's column in the NYTimes by Michelle Slatalla, one my favorite voices of irony, strikes a special chord--and a few funny bones to boot.

The good stuff never stops pouring out of Ronni Bennett's Time Goes By. Today, she points us to a delightful road trip blog from her old friend, Kent McKamy.

As I commented to Ronni, being introduced to kentsusdrive is personally serendipitous because tomorrow, in my Anniversary Archives, I will be re-publishing the first of a five-part account of my own cross-country jaunt with my son back in '03.

2007-06-06T16:02:00.000-07:00

Around and About

If you want to get an inside view of the recently concluded D5 Conference, Rennee Blodgett's blog is the place to go. Of course, you could read D5's official blog, but it's a lot more fun--and revealing--to be given a virtual seat at the table. Nice job, Renee! Thanks for sharing your vantage point with us.

David Weinberger interviews Craig Newmark. Worth a listen. The saga of craigslist continues to amaze.

2007-06-05T19:13:00.000-07:00

Catching Up

After my recent long absence from the blogosphere, I've been starting to re-visit some old favorites--one of which is Syaffolee.

Sya ( a pseudonym) is both a budding scientist and a blogger who fits the parameters about real bloggers being writers (as expressed by Frank Paynter and expanded upon by Ronni Bennett).

She's one of those rare right brain-left brain combos, a trait that always amazes me. (Shelley Powers and Maria Benet are two other examples who spring to mind). (btw, where are you, Maria? Is it hypocritical to ask given all my own disappearances)?

I'm glad that, despite the rigors and abuses of graduate school, Sya has managed to keep on blogging, and hasn't lost that wonderful, understated, sardonic humor that so often floats through her posts. Actually, come to think of it, it's probably what keeps her going.

Take, for instance, yesterday's post in which she remarks on the strictures about something as impractical as writing in the culture of her family of origin: "And writing! Even science has more cachet than writing. When I told my Mom that I sold two short stories, her response was, 'Don't abandon your studies.' "

2007-06-02T15:49:00.000-07:00

Lunch With Hillary

If you want a little more perspective on politicians than you'll find in the usual media gloss-overs, read a blogger--a really good one, that is, like Glennia Campbell of the Silent I.

Glennia managed to come by an invite to Hillary's luncheon speech over in Palo Alto the other day, and gives an informative and insightful, first-hand and up-close account. Definitely worth a visit.

I've been sensing that Hillary may be picking up some steam. Maybe it's more a case of Obama beginning to sound a bit more ordinary. In any event, Glennia, like me, has been harboring her doubts about the former First Lady, and sheds some interesting light on why our well-traveled blogger could eventually be changing her mind.

2007-06-02T15:38:00.000-07:00

Who's Left?

It seems that even the right is going south on Georgie Boy. Thanks to Sheila Lennon for the pointer to Peggy Noonan's comments in the Wall Street Journal, a portion of which I repeat here:

The president has taken to suggesting that opponents of his immigration bill are unpatriotic--they "don't want to do what's right for America."

Opponents of the Iraq war have been slammed as unpatriotic and dismissed, too -- and that's a majority of Americans.

With the left gone, and the right going, who's left?

2007-05-30T11:50:00.000-07:00

A Peacock Moment

Well, I'm puffed out a bit with pride today as Ronni Bennett has added one of my stories to her terrific new blog, The Elder Storytelling Place.

It's actually a post from by blog written back in the spring of '03, when I had just returned from meeting super-blogger Denise Howell for the first time. Ronni and I were exchanging emails in which one of the topics was about how forging blogging connections provided an effective tonic for the loneliness of retirement--or isolation in general, for that matter.

As an illustration of the positive experience of meeting someone whose blogging you admired, and with whom you had struck on online connection, I pointed Ronni to that old post. Ronni said it would make a good addition to the series of stories she's been posting, so here we are.

Thanks again, Ronni, for putting this new site together. You're a trooper!

2007-05-29T23:10:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - May 29, 2002

Having just posted about Elaine's possible departure from the blogosphere, it's serendipitous that what popped up in my archives for today's date was a pointer to Frank Paynter's interview of Elaine--one of the first in his wonderful series of exchanges from that period with bloggers of note.

The Interviews link on Frank's blog unfortunately shows only a handful of these. They're gems. I wonder why he never put up the complete list? (Disclaimer: it's a selfish wish on my part since I have the honor of being one of the interviewees).

Anyway, here's the link again to Frank's interview of Elaine. Highly recommended.

2007-05-27T11:21:00.000-07:00

Another Exodus?

I just caught Elaine's post of a couple of days ago announcing the possibility that her blog may be coming to an end. This will be a great loss if it happens. But I, of all people, certainly understand it.

I've been quitting, then coming back , tentatively, for the past couple of years. Some of us grow weary of looking for things to write about. It stops being fun, so we decide to drop out. If you're a blogger who blogs because you have an inner need to write, as Elaine most certainly does, you discover a big empty hole in your life when you stop writing.

Your inner demons begin driving you back to the keyboard. If Elaine, leaves, I wouldn't be surprised to see her back in due course.

Of course, there's always pen and paper, or that artifact of the past, the typewriter. But how can you top the medium of the Internet? The brilliant invention of the web log, its simplicity and ego-satisfaction of instant publishing are irresistible lures.

There is another problem, however, and Elaine's announcement--or rather, its aftermath--highlights it. The old community spirit isn't what it used to be. Blogging seems to have become a more isolated activity. This is highly ironic given the rise of the so-called "social web," or Web 2.0, or whatever in the hell you want to call it.

Yes, there's more connectability, but the connections seem to be more superfluous.

Time was when an announcement like this from Elaine would have generated a flurry of comments, postings, pleadings, protestations, and hand-wringing statements of concern. Now, barely a ripple. It's amazing to me, considering someone of Elaine's quality of writing and longevity in the blogosphere.

Well, whatever Elaine decides to do, I'm sure that I'm not alone in treasuring what she's given us. And, of course, our hearts are with her as she continues her amazing efforts to care for her mother.

2007-05-23T19:23:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Cornucopia

Back in August of last year, I started a feature called "Anniversary Archives," wherein I re-published posts from earlier years that originally appeared on that date. It was an interesting exercise, but I only got three of them up before I went on vacation.

Then I pulled one of my disappearing acts, publishing only a bare handful of posts in the ensuing months. The Anniversary Archives idea was completely forgotten.

But now that I'm trying to make another return, I'd like to resurrect the feature. I was scouring around through old stuff, and somehow--I have no idea how--I landed on this page from Jeneane's archives.

It has no relevance to today's date, but I find it to be a gem. So I've decided to use it as my first piece in the re-opening of my Anniversary Archives feature. While not related to today's date, it's about a whole host of blog anniversaries--a compilation of opening posts from a number of exemplary blogs. Very much worth republishing, imho.

Many thanks to Jeneane for these great links.Read and enjoy!

This is by no means a complete list of my classmates/inspirations/co-conspirators, and yet, when I started snooping around, I did find enough "first posts" to warrant a celebratory yeeehaw! We've come a long way, baby....

Fishrush's Hello World: September 25, 1952 (ROTFL)

xian's Breathing Room: October 30, 1997

Lisa Williams' Cadence 90: May 31, 2000

Chris Locke's All Noise: August 5, 2000

Marek J's Soapbox: August 5, 2000

Brooke's Rivervision: November 7, 2000

Dean Landsman's DeanLand: December 17, 2000

Deb Gussman's Distracted: February 27, 2001

Michael O'Connor Clarke: March 1, 2001

Shelley Powers' BurningBird: [[April 5, 2001, after lurking for a year. Shelley's first post was on a Userland Manila site and has since disappeared. Conspiracy? TAHDW? You be the judge. Shelley has special dispensation because she is my idol. She's the only first post I'll include without a link.]]

Marc's Nexistepas: October 8, 2001

Gonzo Engaged: October 14, 2001

George Sessum's Musick: October 23, 2001

Jeneane Sessum's Allied: November 4, 2001

Gaspar Torriero: November 7, 2001

Kevin Marks Epeus' epigone: November 7, 2001

Gary Turner's* MLOD: November 14, 2001 (Gary Turner's "Inturnernet News" blog dates back to 1999.)

David Weinberger's JOHO: November 15, 2001*. (*JOHO was started in 1999, and after a two-year hiatus, re-emerged.)

Denise Howell's Bag n Baggage: November 28, 2001

Elaine's Kalilily: November 29, 2001

Jennifer Balderama's Nonsense Verse: December 7, 2001

Frank Paynter's Sandhill Trek: January 5, 2002

Halley's Commentsans: January 10, 2002

Mike Golby: Jan 11, 2002

AKMA: January 23, 2002

Tom Shugart's Insiteview: Feburary 21, 2002

Doug's The Dynamic Drivel: March 28, 2002

Jonathon Mays' Stretching Thought: April 16, 2002

Liz Lawley's Mamamusings October 22, 2002 (happy first birthday, Liz!)

2007-05-21T17:35:00.000-07:00

Story Time

Kudos to Ronni Bennett for the creation of her new adjunct to her main blog. It's called The Elder Storytelling Place, and it's a fabulous idea. She already has quite a few entries. Good stuff! I'm definitely inspired to make some submissions. Ronni's already accepted one, I'm happy to say, and it should be appearing in the near future.

Whenever I would lapse into storytelling in this blog, I would feel like I was being self-centered and boring. But over time, input from readers, combined with my enjoyment of reading pieces of nostalgia and remeberance put up by other bloggers, caused me to change my mind. I came to realize that stories--at least well articulated ones--were among the most important contributions the older blogger has to offer.

I remember once replying to Dervala's lament that my generation seems to have "disappointingly little to teach us," to which I responded:

"Everything changes so fast now! What the hell do we have
to tell you except our own stories, as honestly as we can. "

I also remember how much I enjoyed my mother's stories despite having an unpleasant, mostly contentious relationship with her. It would be the one situation in which I would feel a bond of warmth with her and a pleasure in being offered something, a sense of receiving something of value, rather than the usual neediness.

Many thanks, Ronni, for this offering. I'm sure it's going to be a hit.

2007-05-18T12:10:00.001-07:00

Recalling the Impressario

I've been enjoying the string of comments that Frank Paynter's recent post, "Entheogens," has inspired. Frank's posting of an early Grateful Dead video has stimulated some nostalgia and memory-searching from some of us old enough and lucky enough to have been there.

Frank describes Bill Graham as "running around as self important as Dave Winer." I haven't had the distinction of seeing Winer in action, but I did indeed have occasion to see Graham doing the running around number (in small venues, that is, before the days of arena concerts).

However, my take wasn't so much "self-importance." What I saw was a guy fantastically committed to perfection--in a frenzy to get it right--for the fans and for the musicians, both of whom he dearly loved, underneath that gruff, foreboding, getouttamyface, boss-man presentation.

Yeah, Graham may haved seemed self-important, but Frank's commenter, Hannah (she doesn't provide a link to a website) has got it right, imho. His contribution to popular culture is historic--and crucial--because, as Hannah says, a lot of it might very well not have happened without him.

I rank him as a true pop visionary, right up there with Sam Phillips, Barry Gordy, and Jann Wenner.

2007-05-16T10:46:00.000-07:00

Commencin' and Tripppin'

OK. I’m returned from a short jaunt back to the Midwest to attend the graduation of my niece from the University of Illinois—and to get in some family schmoozing time.

Commencement addresses are usually rather boring affairs, but this one had something different--a guy under 30 giving the address. How does a lad of 28 land such an honor? By being a co-developer of PayPal and co-founder of YouTube, and having a billion bucks or so, some of which you can bet has the University scheming for future endowments.

Which is to take nothing away from the accomplishments of Illinois alum, Jawed Karim, who received the outstanding achievement award for alumni under 40. (no duh!) and was invited to give the address. It was a pleasant surprise, and Karim, to his credit, gave a fairly good speech.

Christine Hurt, a U of I Law Prof, provides this account, saving me the trouble:

Karim's speech was great. It was short, it was funny, and it had video clips. He advised students to always be open to opportunity and to take risks while you can (like leaving college while still young to try something brand new). He apologized for ruining their gpa's by inventing YouTube! He was self-deprecating when reminding students that things don't work right away. In 1997, Karim's application to the University of Illinois' computer science department was rejected. He wrote a letter asking them to reconsider, which they did. (I would like to see a copy of this letter. I've seen letters from law school candidates asking for their admissions decisions to be reconsidered, and they generally only confirm initial judgments!) He also talked about how lame YouTube was in the beginning until users started uploading their own videos -- a concept that the founders had not envisioned.

The funniest line of the speech came when Karim explained that YouTube was launched on February 14, 2005. I am paraphrasing, but he said something akin to: 'One of the best things about being a computer science major is that Valentine's Day is just like any other day.'

(Thanks to Kevin O'Keefe of LexBlog for the pointer. Kevin's lengthy blogroll, btw, has Denise Howell way down near the bottom. Hey, Kev, she practically started the whole law blog thing. Doesn't she belong at the top?)

I started reading David Weinberger's latest book, "Everything is Miscellaneous," on the trip. As you might imagine, very insightful, provocative, original, and humorous--the usual Weinbergian cocktail. I doubt that I'll put up a review. It's a bit out of my league, which is not to say it's dense--not at all. It's just that my ventures into the art of criticism have not gone beyond the realm of popular culture (I've made a few contributions to BlogCritics Magazine). I'm probably wise to leave it that way--although maybe I could submit something along the lines of "Why 'Everything Is Miscellaneous' Matters to Average Joe." But does anyone care?

Anyway, getting my butt out to the Weinberger book signing and informal talk was a shot in the arm. I wish my ol' bloggin' buddy Frank could have been there. He would have loved it. (Speaking of Paynter the Prolific, do catch his current post with the early Grateful Dead video).

Thanks to Ronni Bennet for chiming in with a supportive comment. And thanks also to Jeneane for the encouragement. Good to hear from both of you guys!

2007-05-11T13:21:00.000-07:00

I'm rushing off to the Midwest for a niece's graduation and don't have the time to report as fully as would have liked on the blogger meetup with David Weinberger--but, fortunately, you can read his own account of the affair.

An added plus was getting to meet one of my all-time favorite bloggers--Dervala Hanley. It's hard to believe she's actually ended up right here in our area after all the changes she's been through and all the miles she's logged since she began her wonderful blog. Thanks so much, Dervala for sharing your adventures with us--and doing so with all the grace, wit, insight, and poetry that is your unique voice.

It was a stimulating evening, and per my hopes and intentions, it helped re-ignite my interest in getting back to some blogging.

See you after I get back from Illinois.

2007-05-09T12:24:00.000-07:00

Moving Forward

My strategy for getting some motivation for jumping back into the blogging scene seems to be moving along nicely. Weinberger himself sends word that he looks forward to my presence (provided I don't look him in the eye). Dervala likewise announces her intention to cross my path there.

This is great! Takes me back to the time of my very first blogger meetup (before the days of organized meetups).

2007-05-07T18:36:00.000-07:00

Unexpected Opportunity

Having promised Frank Paynter—and then the world at large in my previous post—that I would fulfill my obligations to get something up on this neglected blog at least once every quarter, my time is more than up.

Tax season is over. No more excuses, not even spring yard work, branch clearing, and all that other horticultural horseshit (how’s that for alliteration?) that would be oh so convenient to justify continued avoidance of my blogging commitments.

I’ve parked myself in front of the keyboard nearly every day for the past couple of weeks, trying in vain to compose something. I’ve been perusing many of my favorite blogs for inspiration. Shockingly, not even the splendid examples of these estimable people have been able to re-ignite the writing engine.

Something unpleasant seems to have happened. I’ve completely lost touch with the community that I used to value so much (although one could argue that there isn’t that much of a community spirit anymore. Frank, though, bless his heart, keeps trying to fan the flame).

Some formerly prolific writers—Maria Benet and Dervala Hanley being two excellent examples who spring to mind—appear to be cutting back on their posting. Unlike me, however, they don’t seem to wring their hands about it. They just put up another great post when they get around to it.

Using their example for inspiration, I’ll calm the agitated hands by applying them to the keyboard---and just go with whatever happens to come out. I really do want to get my writing chops back. How else am I gonna do it? It reminds me of the opening of my very first blog post (Feb 21, 2002):

“There's no way to start it except to start it. So here I go. After all, David Weinberger, who's probably my biggest source of inspiration for this undertaking, has as the motto for his blog, "let's just see how it goes,"

Which leads me to what’s behind the title of today’s post. The one and only Dr.W is appearing in San Francisco in a couple of nights to promote his new book, “Everything Is Miscellaneaous.” The affair is described as a blogger meetup and is taking place at the digs of Yahoo’s new venture, The Brickhouse.

Whathehell? I could jump on a train, walk four blocks, and be there in about an hour from my door. I rarely go out on weeknights anymore, but why not? Weinberger, after all, is the godfather of this blog. (Jeneane Sessum’s the godmother, btw, in case you were wondering).

To hell with my age. I’m not ashamed to be starstruck. And the Brickhouse is a stone’s throw from Dervala’s neighborhood. What if she happened to be there? God knows what other luminaries might be there, but W and D would be enough to make the trek worth it.

OTOH, most of these people, Dr. W excepted, are going to be young enough to be my children. The crowd at the Brickhouse will no doubt be uber-hip. Even though I’m no square, I’m clueless about Web 2.0 and all the other up-to-the minute goodies they’ll no doubt be talking about. And even though I was once a fair-to-middlin,’ almost daily blogger with a respectable audience, I’ve been out of the loop for a long time now.

Am I going to feel like an idiot if I show up at this affair? It looms as a distinct possibility. Then again, why not simply claim my space as a been-around-the-bend elder who knows that, in the blogosphere at least, words trump technology and always will, no matter how exotic the evolution of the tech stuff.

Well, I think I’m willing to risk it, because what I’ve really been trying to say in this post is that I’m looking for some way to get my spirit back. I don’t know what happened or where it went (I have a few theories but what do they matter?). I just know I want it to return.

As Paynter responded a while back in reply to his own question, “Why do we blog?. . . “Because we’re writers.” My blog’s motto, after all, is borrowed from a quote from Dr W--“We are writing ourselves into existence.”

I haven’t been writing. Ergo, I haven’t been existing. Small wonder I’ve been dispirited these recent months. Maybe putting my fears and embarrassment aside and hitting the Brickhouse will be the jolt in the ass I need.

If I end up feeling terribly out of place and convinced that time has passed me by, that I had my run with the blogosphere, etc., etc. and now it’s time to just go home and tend to the yard, so be it.

I’ll never know if I don’t go.

2007-04-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

Stay Tuned

Frank Paynter has issued his quarterly needle about my lack of updates. One does not ignore wrist-slappings from the Listics-man. Hopefully, he'll be gracious enough to allow me to complete my taxes and get them filed.

After that, there wil be no argument. Update forthcoming.

2006-12-16T16:32:00.000-08:00

Frank and Al and Denise and Candle Number One

What, you might ask (the "you" being the mythical reader that might somehow stumble across the remnants of this once active blog), is the connection between the seemingly unrelated elements of the above headline?

Well, they've come together to provide some long-absent stimulus for me to post an insertion into this dustbin.

First, there's the ever reliable Frank Paynter. I can always count on him for a periodic needling if I stay away from here too long. He posts a comment in his customary puckish manner, wryly suggesting that it might be time for a "quarterly update."

Actually, Frank, it's been 2.5 months, not three--so there.

Frank's been touting his tenth blogging anniversary. Ten years? Jayzeus! I tend to refer to myself as a blogger from the old days ( as distinct from an old blogger, which I indisputably am). But Frank puts me to shame. I'm just a Johnny-come-lately.

Kudos to Mr. FP! Unfortunately, on the day of the marathon celebration that Frank is planning to throw, I'll be cramped inside one of today's ubiquitous sardine-can airliners, returning home from an obligatory trip I didn't want to go on in the first place. Admittedly a shitty way to be spending the last day of the year, but it couldn't be helped, for reasons I won't bother to bore anyone with.

My next headline element is "Al," as in Al Shugart, who passed on the other day. His passing was definitely an event that gave me the urge to post. While the world remembers Al as a tech industry pioneer, his significance for me was that he transformed my name from the obscure to the instantly recognizable, a fact which has required me with predictable regularity to respond to many of those to whom I am introduced, "no, no relation." Sometimes, especially at industry functions, I felt like wearing a sign.

I posted a humorous incident about this state of affairs back in my early blogging days. It was right after Paynter was just getting started with his well-known series of blogger interviews. I had the honor of being his first male subject. The immediate aftermath was a rash of "are you related?" emails. So I put up a post to set the record straight.

Anyway, Al Shugart was my kind of guy--brilliant, creative, irreverent, fun-loving, and dismissive of the establishment. This guy was wearing Hawaiian shirts to work decades before it became a hip way to show that you or your organization were leading-edge.

Al, who started out as an IBMer, was able to get away with thumbing his nose at the rigid IBM dress code of the fifties and sixties. That may not mean much to Gen-X or Yers, but if you were around in those days, as I was, and remember how quasi-militaristic things tended to be in the big business sector, including high-tech, you have to be impressed with Shugart's chutzpah. I'm proud to bear his name. Rest well, Al.

As for the last two elements of my headline, candle number one refers to the first day of Hannukah--a day when my family typically sits down to open the holiday greeting cards. To my surprise and delight, there was one from my old blogging friend and inspiration--the one, the only, Denise Howell, the esteemed pioneer of law blogging. To no one's surprise, the card featured adorable photos of her knockout son, Tyler. Equally without surprise, given the lad's lineage, is his pleasingness to the eye.

This has been a big year for Denise. Because of my absence from the blogosphere, I've missed out on most of it, as I have with most other bloggers of whom I'm fond. One of the things I'd like to do during the holidays is go through some of Denise's postings and perhaps offer some very belated reactions to what seems unfathomable, her severance from her former, supposedly astute law firm.

So--many thanks to Denise for remembering Jill and me, especially given my rather embarassing lack of attention to all the good folks like her in this space who have been so supportive in the past. Hopefully, you'll be seeing more of me in '07.

And, in the meantime, very best wishes for the holidays to anybody still out there.

2006-09-07T14:34:00.000-07:00

Attention Matters, or Does It?

Enjoyed lunch with Maria Benet a couple of days ago. It was great to re-connect and share impressions of the state of the blogosphere and our relationhip to it. It seems that we're both experiencing some difficulty in generating the kind of momentum we had in the old days--although I have to say that she's doing a better job of it than I am.

I'm thinking of putting a book together, plus I have my wife's business to promote. Maria has her own projects and wish lists. Without the buzz and energy and cross-talk of the earlier period, it's hard to get very involved with this medium any more.

Or so it seems. Maybe I'm just kvetching and need to get off it. E.g., there's the comment from Jeneane last month, telling me not to worry about my recent absence from the blogosphere: "it's not like the old days. no one pays attention anyway anymore (HEE!) Well, cept frank. ;-)"

It doesn't seem to bother her one bit. She just keeps cranking it out, as always (you're a phenom, Jeneane!) Me, I'm not so sanguine about the new atmosphere.

OTOH, Frank, Tamar, and Winston had a little exchange about it around a month ago, and they all were pleasantly surprised to find that people actually were paying attention. So maybe I'm just being a closet misanthrope. I can hardly bitch about lack of notice if I'm only posting a couple of times a month.

2006-08-26T15:19:00.000-07:00

A Feast of Rivers

We're back from a wonderful trip through Oregon, a paradise for lovers, like me, of swift-flowing, picturesqe rivers. You can hardly drive five miles without encountering another gorgeous stream.

Some crystal clear, offering abstract tableaux for the camera lens.

Others find their descent squeezed into the narrows of lava rock and roar mightily through their constricted passages.

Still others come tumbling down over dramatic precipices.

Waterfalls abound.

As if these gems of nature weren't enough,

Oregon offers up another pearl of an entirely

different order--

the wonderful city of Portland--

an approachable metropolis of ideal scale with just the right blend of urbanity, laid-backness, hipness, and unpretentiousness.

My kind of place.

The state's abundance of sustainable, organic agriculture makes for some mighty good eating.

Two standouts worthy of mention: the sublime yet reasonably-priced Andina; and for the best, most inventive organic food I've ever tasted, The Blossoming Lotus.

I wanted to try Lucy's Table, but befell the same fate as Frank Paynter. The joint was closed.

Another favorite was the Chinese Garden, an oasis of quietude and contemplative beauty plunked down in the middle of a commercial district.

I could go on and on, but I'm not a travel writer, and this isn't a travel blog. Suffice it to say, if you want to enjoy a nice vacation in the western US, you won't go wrong with Oregon.

I Was hoping to have a chance to meet up with Elaine's son, the OneTrueB!x--a unique, original, and talented blog voice of long standing. I think he helped Elaine get started in this medium--in which case we owe him a vote of thanks.

Unhappily, like the doddering idiot I tend to be when attempting to multi-task during stress-inducing periods like last-minute trip prepartation, I misplaced Elaine's instructions, or forgot them altogether.

When I got to Portland I tried to wing it. Elaine told me he worked at a bookstore and I intuited that it was probably in the hip Northwest District. So when I found myself in the neighborhood, I scoured around, but to no avail.

Upon arriving back home, I discovered that my intuition was erroneous. He works in a completely different area. Oh well, next time, B!x. A libation of your choice and a hug per instructions from your mother.

2006-08-12T10:27:00.000-07:00

Ten Day Hiatus

I've only been back here in this space for ten days, and now I'm splitting for another ten. We're headed north for a much-needed vacation. Decided to save some money this year and avoid flying and car renting. With all the shit coming down in the airports now, it was a prescient decision. The extra gas costs are a small price to pay.

We're going to be touring through the Cascade Mountain range up in Oregon, with a brief stay in Portland sandwiched in the middle. We'll be touching base there with Jill's cousin, Chuck Tauman, about whom I blogged back in'02 when he was nominated for Trial Lawyer of the Year for his work in a landmark anti-tobacco case. Chuck's now working on a case that's going all the way to the US Supreme Court, so it will be interesting to hear about that.

I notice that Frank Paynter was just up there himself. I'll check out his posts for any good tips.

Before departing, I'll put up another Anniversary Archive (see below). What I like about doing this is the opportunity to go back and re-visit some of the great bloggers.

See ya in a week-and-a-half!

2006-08-12T09:49:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - August 13, 2003

Blogout?

Gary Turner is toying with the idea of quitting blogging. Hopefully, AKMA , in his upcoming visit, will talk him out of it.

Among other reasons, Gary cites running out of ideas. I know how he feels. It’s becoming more and more difficult to think of things to write about that I feel are worth the effort.

I used to blog about anything—just to get a post up, just to make sure the blog was active and current. That’s lost its allure. I’ve grown tired of evaluating everything I’m doing in the context of its potential fodder for a blog post.

Last night, I was watching a fabulous baseball game—The A’s vs. the Red Sox in a crucial series now taking place in Oakland. Tim Hudson vs. Pedro Martinez. A real duel. Two of the very best. They lived up to their reputations. It was baseball as it was meant to be.

I was going to blog about it, and would have a year ago. But then I thought to myself, “who gives a rat’s pituitary about my reaction to a baseball game?” If someone wants to read a good account of an athletic contest there are plenty of professional sports writers who will give them a far better read than I could. The same holds true for other kinds of events, entertainment and/or political (in California, of course, there’s no distinction).

The well–regarded internet marketing authority and visionary, Sean Carton recently did a column on some of his predictions, “Eleven Things That Will Happen,” with regard to the direction of the Internet. (This is a guy, by the way, of whom Chris Locke has said, “Carton's indefatigable web journalism and analysis keep his radar tuned to an uncommon sensitivity. If anybody knows what to expect next, I'd bet on this guy to call it").

Here’s what Carton has to say about blogging:

“As bloggers know, maintaining a blog is a lot of work. Paying people to keep on blogging can cost lots of money. Eventually, many private bloggers will move on to other things. Corporate bloggers will become too busy (or bored) to blog. As someone who ran a proto-blog for six years, 364 days a year, I know first-hand that at some point, you just run out of steam. Blogs are wonderful innovations. They emphasize the powers of the Net, personality, and instant publishing. Just don't count on them remaining the phenomenon they've been over the past year or so.”

However, as I was leaving a comment to Turner’s post about his possible departure, expressing my desire that he not do so, I had a realization--which I shared in the comment:

“when you write straight from the heart, as you have in this post, you don't need any ideas. With a writer of your talent, the stuff from the heart is always more powerful than the cleverness of one's ideas.

Of course, the heart may not have something to post every day. No matter. If you can only manage occasional posts, we'll happily take what we can get.”

I need to apply that observation to myself, i.e. stop stressing myself out over “what the hell can I write about today?” and wait instead until the heart has something to say. Oh, and the occasional reminiscence. When you’ve reached my age, you’re entitled. Sometimes people even seem to enjoy them. This will mean fewer posts. If that means a drop in hits, so be it. This is the only frame of reference that’s going to keep me from quitting.

2006-08-10T19:42:00.000-07:00

Anniversaries of Note

Big congratulations are in order for two esteemed bloggers celebrating anniversaries--albeit of different orders of magnitude.

Starting with the biggie--it's the twentieth wedding anniversary of Jeneane Sessum and hubby George (or it was yesterday. I'm a day late). Way to go you two!!!

On a more modest scale, but certainly of significance to an admiring blogging community, Maria Benet began her blog, Alembic, four years ago today.

You've given us much pleasure, Maria, and on many occasions, rich food for thought.

2006-08-09T13:54:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - August 9, 2003

I think I'll keep going with this feature. I'm having fun with it. Today's anniversary post from 2003 recalls one of my all-time favorite bloggers, Jonathon Delacour, who has disappeared from the scene. He's done it before and then, like me, come back for more. However Jonathon's current absence is becoming rather extended--some sixteen months now.

Let's hope the hiatus is nearing its end, but who knows? He wouldn't be the first esteemed blogger of the early days to vacate the space altogether.

This post also demonstrates the dogged persistence of Frank Paynter--of which I've been the target myself more than once. Wonder if Frank might unsheath the electric prod for another go at Delacour? Sure would be nice to have him back.

This post also reminded me that I need to restore all the links I stupidly lost when I switched Blogger formats. Since Paynter interviews are the subject here, I'm inspired to make my first restoration--one of my most prized links--the "I've Been Paynted" button. BTW, Frank, why not have all of your interviews linked on that page? You've done so many good ones, why not give your readers the chance to see'em all?

I tried to link to Frank's August '03 post referred to in my archive below, but his archives from that period don't seem to be accessible. The "Frank Paynter" link takes you--not to the piece about Delacour, but to his 2006 Sandhill Trek pages. Am I doing something wrong, Frank?

August 9, 2003

The Paynter Press

Lots of expressions of delight at the return of Jonathon Delacour to blogging. I’ll add my voice to the chorus. Frank Paynter has decided to greet the return with a press for some divulgence of more personal info from the esteemed Aussie blogger. Seems that Frank regards him as something of a mystery man and would like to discover more of the man behind the blog.

This should be interesting. I can’t quite tell whether Frank is trying to get Jonathon to be the next subject of one his famous interviews. If he isn’t, I’m suggesting that he give it a try. Frank is nothing if not persuasive and persistent (notice I didn’t say “pest”). Surely, Jonathon would be a most worthy addition to the “I’ve Been Paynted” club.

2006-08-08T13:10:00.000-07:00

Four Years

My latest return to blogging is producing mixed emotions. On the positive side, I'm looking forward to re-connecting with those special blogger friends of yore. And it's a great pleasure to bring the writing chops out of the dust-bin and give them another go.

As for the negative, it's very sad to see the absence of the old community spirit that existed back in the pioneering days of '02. Elaine's post the other day really brought it home to me. She takes us back to her August posts of that year.

We had so much cross-blogging going on then. It was such a blast.

Time moves on. As Elaine says, in response to my comment, "everyone -- including me, I guess -- is just into his/her own thing. It's really not a community anymore. Too big. Too institutionalized."

So things are different. Well, duh, what did I expect? What the hell isn't different after four years? Am I going to be just another crotchety old dude bitching about how "it ain't what it usta be?"

I can get on board with the new reality or I can decide that coming back to the blogosphere wasn't worth it and drop out. I wouldn't be the first.

I'm going to start experimenting with a new feature--Anniversary Archives (see next post). This particular post is an uncomfortable but eye-opening example of how much things can change in four years.

2006-08-08T13:03:00.000-07:00

Anniversary Archives - - August 8, 2002

Like A Feather In the Wind

Guess I have to blog Shelley Powers on Iraq one more time before I can get away from the subject for a while.

My critics will say I have no conviction--that I'm as spineless as a feather in the wind. My supporters will say I have an open mind. The simple truth is that I haven't figured out where I come down on this issue. Lately, I've been teetering ever closer to saying, "OK, Georgie, if you can make the case and get the U.N. in your corner, then go ahead and rid us of the Bully of Baghdad." But I haven't stepped over that line as yet.

Today, Shelley, aka Burningbird, makes the best case I've read yet for staying out. What I like about her piece is that it's blessedly free of the peace-at-any-price line--and of the kvetching and whining that disallows the proposition that anybody in Washington might actually be trying, with great difficulty, to be doing the right thing.

She makes a strong argument based on the rule of law--not on sentimentality--and I must say, I'm swayed by her words. Then, a couple of hours later, on the tube, along come two of the leading members of the Iraqi Opposition-In-Exile, saying that U.S, intervention will lead to a joyous overthrow of the dictatorship and the implementation of a free and pluralistic, democratic society--and I'm saying to myself, "Man, what if these guys are right? It would be worth the cost. It would be the greatest American foreign policy achievement since the restoration of a democratic Germany and Japan."

As I said in my post yesterday, it's really important that this kind of conversation is going on because I have no doubt there are a lot of floating feathers like myself out there. We need to be informed.

By the time the conversation on Vietnam got to this level, it was way too late. The boys were already coming home in boxes, and the villages were already being burned to the ground in the name of saving the inhabitants from Uncle Ho. Let us never again be done in by that level of misinformation and unquestioned assumptions. Let us never again get to that point before the debate begins.

2006-08-06T11:02:00.000-07:00

Middle Muddle

As I make my way back into the blogosphere, bit by bit, I'm starting to get back to some of my old reading habits. That would definitely include Doc Searls, my fellow occupant of the middle of the political road (I can already see Paynter's eyes rolling).

Doc points to Britt Blaser's shot across the bow of left--vs.--right--politics--as--usual. Very intriguing--as is the case with most of Doc's pointers.

Much as I admire Blaser's sentiments, some of his conclusions are, unfortunately, quaint, to put it politely.

The problem with the middle, of course, is that we have no organization and no spleen--no duke-it-out-in-the-streets mentality. As Blaser points out, we "value our common sense and decency more than we value our rage."

But, Blaser maintains, "We're finally motivated to do the intervention we've been avoiding."

His prescripition for the intervention? "It's time to impose overwhelming reasonableness."

Well, wouldn't that be nice? And wouldn't it be peachy if we could go back to those civilized centrist contests between Adlai and Ike? And and Republicans and the Democrats sitting down together in the Capitol back rooms for some bourbon and branch water after a day's work on the floors of Congress?

I'm in a muddle. I don't know what the answer is. Blaser is absolutely correct when he asserts, "If we want to do revenge politics, we'd just have to hire the consultants again and start the same old karmic spiral. The political consultants would like nothing better. We have to take the other path."

Some visionary is going to have to show up who can chart "the other path" that weaves its way somehow between 50's soda-pop nostalgia and present-day vitriol and vindictiveness.

I'm not very optimistic. Cokie Roberts, who knows a thing or two about the Democratic Party, has observed that Joe Lieberman's likely defeat next week portends big trouble for the party. It will precipitate a frantic scramble to the left, she predicts, and a suicidal push toward the repeat of the 1972 disaster.

For those of you who weren't around, the period of 1968-72 has some parallels to today. The fury against Humphrey, the Lieberman of his day, and against the Vietnam war, led to a leftist takeover of the Democrats that cost the party its status as the majority party--a situation which has grown steadily worse, despite the brief hiatus of Bill Clinton.

Don't get me wrong. If I were a Connecticut voter, I would gleefully cast my vote against Boot Lickin' Joe. It's the over-reaction to the result that I fear, plus the big vacuum in the middle. And puleeeze--Hillary ain't the one to fill it.

2006-08-04T16:24:00.000-07:00

Body Parts

Leaving a comment to my previous post, Jeneane offers the possibility of blogging about Paynter's ass. Hmmm. Well, I don't think so, but just to keep things within the Yuck Zone, how about a more proactive body part--los cojones?

Frank gives them an entertaining and brave flex by including one of the reigning legends of the blogosphere as an object of his wrong-side-of-the-bed screed.

After reeling off the easy targets--basically everything related to Bush and the Middle East--plus business, art, academia, technologists, ownership, even hapless victims of skiing accidents, he turns on Halley.

Poor gal had her night out in North Beach derided as "Tony Bennet bullshit." Perfect! I laughed "halfway to the stars" with that one!

Way to go , Frank! It's so refreshing to see a nice guy turn mean.

On a more serious note, this gets me to thinking about the changes in the blog scene. Having been absent much of the past two years, I'm wondering about how things have evolved.

Some are quite obvious--the frantic search for monetization--blogs as hucksterism--seepage into the mainstream (nobody looks at you with that blank stare anymore when you say "blog")--a sort of pseudo-industry (which is probably heresy to suggest).

I wonder if in some way the arc of Halley's career and blogging might be an instructive representation of the blogospheric evolution?

Just a thought. Jeneane says no one's paying attention any more, and Maria Benet has suggested we might do lunch and share thoughts on the subject. (Yes to that, Maria).

Despite all the changes, what matters, no doubt, is that the central factor holds: blogging remains a convenient, effective medium for enabling conversation between people who find value in communicating with each other.

As for the rest of it--the agenda pushing, poseuring, name-dropping and money-grubbing, let me join Frank in his screw-fest. Screw the whole peripheral blog scene.

2006-08-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

The Outhouse of Plans

As has become almost routine since my blogging began to thin out around two summers ago--and at times evaporate altogether --Frank Paynter throws out a hook and reels me back in, even if for just a post or two.

The steady scribe of Listics nee Sandhill has done it again. He must have known that I would be irresistably touched when, right there in the middle of blogging about being with all those brilliant babes of Bloggerland--i.e., the recently concluded BlogHer conference--he tosses out a mention that he's thinking about what may have become of me!

One presumes he was there to provide a male perspective on the proceedings--and I don't mean that in the lecherous sense. He had the good sense to have his wife with him, after all. Which may be how he managed to get in there in the first place--unless they actually invited him--just kidding--they did let guys in and there were in fact other guys there, although a distinct minority.

I've always had a bit of fun kidding around with Frank, even arguing sometimes, but I'll not begrudge him his accolades. He's one helluva prodigious blogger, and I'm honored to be the recipient of his attention from time to time.

I owe my readers a big apology for disappearing right on the heels of announcing my return six months ago. I was very excited about getting back, having just pulled off a neat little end run around the Grim Reaper. I was full of plans and good ideas. Twenty-two awesome bloggers left encouraging comments. Others emailed. It was an experience to savor.

I thought the Author-In-Chief was going to cut me some slack after my heart scare. Ha! My Year-of-Job was just warming up. What's the old saying--if you want to hear God laugh, make a plan? I joined Rumsfeld, Bremer, Wolfowitz et al in the outhouse of plans-gone-south.

No sooner did I return from a round of business consultations, all fired up and ready to get moving again, than I was struck by an even more painful experience than the preceding one--a devastating situation of turmoil and upheaval in my family (nothing to do with my marriage, which is just fine, thank you very much).

It would have been very helpful if I could have blogged my heart out about it. However, I've been honor-bound to to remain silent about the details of this in the public arena in order to protect the privacy rights of people who are very special to me.

My sincere regrets for having to be in mystery on this, but that's just the way it is. Period. Nothing I can do about it. I wouldn't even bring it up except that the irreducible foundation of personal blogging, IMO, is honesty and transparency.

Without this foundation, I have no reason to blog. This standard requires, therefore, that I explain, to the extent possible, why I suddenly stopped blogging right on the heels of trumpeting my return.

During this tumultous period, which has been full of fear, despair, and uncertainty, the happy memories of blogging proved too painful for me to deal with. That may sound nuts. You would think that it would provide a nice respite. But, it just hasn't seemed to work that way for me.

It's not that I want to grovel in my shit. It's more that blogging has seemed so insignificant in the face of all this--the lack of its former electricity for me has been an unpleasant source of sadness--and I've been assiduously avoiding all sources of sadness over which I have any control.

Things are improving, so Frank's timing is propitious. I just might be ready to give it a go again. No promises, mind you, but I'll do my best to give it another shot.

Six months is a stupidly long time to wait to say this--but a belated Thank You, nonetheless, to all you wonderful bloggers who reached out to me back in January.

2006-01-29T20:30:00.000-08:00

Back From the Almost Dead

When one has been absent from the blogosphere as long as I have, readers usually start to wonder, “Is he all right? I hope nothing’s happened, etc.” Eventually, someone will send an email of inquiry and concern, and express a wish that I get my butt back in here.

This time was different. First of all, I’ve had so many extended absences by now that, when I disappear, people have stopped wondering—not to mention the fact that there aren’t many left that would care anyway, given my many lengthy departures from this space (with the welcome exception of the intrepid Frank Paynter, who has just dropped an email, bless his heart).

A ho-hum factor inevitably begins to take hold.

Secondly, THIS time, I wasn’t all right. A scary brush with the Reaper and all that. I’m not going to bore people with the details except to say that one of my main arteries to the heart showed up 95% blocked. A scary ride that I hope will never repeat itself. But who knows?

The cardiologist blithely threw out the observation, “Wow! This one’s usually fatal. You’re a lucky sonuvagun." Wow, indeed.

I’ve been blessed with a youthful appearance and attitude. But the interior organs and pipes, and the family genes, are not fooled. They are beginning to do what they tend to do after seven decades--and in my family, usually before then.

I’ve eaten healthy, low-fat foods for over twenty years, stopped smoking thirty-five years ago, walked vigorously for over a mile every day, or nearly so, but the genes and the passage of time are what they are.

The life-saving (at least for the time being) repairs have been made and I’m now feeling fine. But the new reality is that I’ll spend the rest of my life with a bottle of nitro tablets within reach at all times—always with the hope that the other shoe doesn’t drop, but being forced to accept the fact that it could at any moment.

Hard to believe, given my devotion to living a healthy life style. But this IS what is—and I learned a long time ago that what is is, and what isn’t isn’t, and that’s pretty much all you need to know to keep your mental balance. To take a Rabbi Hillel quotation out of context, "everything else is just commentary."

One is supposed to have life-changing epiphanies after such brushes with oblivion—new insights on what you’re going to do with the rest of your life; new realizations about your life’s purpose, and so on.

None of that has happened to me to any dramatic extent. The skies have not opened up.

A few things, though, have surfaced. For starters, I’d like to give the blog another shot—even though the blogosphere is so different now—and I mean that in the negative sense--from when I first started out back in early ’02.

I’m not sure it’s worth the bother any more. But the isolation’s no fun either, so I’ll see what I can do with this baby. If nobody comes back to it, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of having not quit prematurely.

I scoot over to Paynter's blog and right there at the top is a quote from Dervala about her recent absence from blogging that puts my little whine about the same subject to shame. God, can that gal write! Another one of my lost conncetions that I used to enjoy in my fertile earlier blogging period. Thanks, Frank, for the re-connect.

Another desire has come through clear as a bell: to give my wife, Jill, whatever assistance I can in expanding her business. She’s a tremendous resource for parents—and for people in troubled relationships. Her skills deserve a wider audience, and there’s an audience out there—if they can be reached--that would welcome her skills.

The power of the internet and teleconferencing could help her broaden that reach. I intend to help her get there.

First step was to set up a web site—albeit rudimentary, it’s a start. Next step is to attend a Business Development Intensive with Super-Coach Melanie Benson Strick. Jill and I have signed up as a partnership so that we can function as a team and get aligned on a vision and a plan of action -- transforming this whole thing from wish list and good idea to concrete reality.

As for the blog, I’m starting by switching to what I hope is a more visually appealing format. Unfortunately, I completely overlooked the fact that when I switched templates, I would lose my blogroll and other links. Ouch! How unconscious can you be? But--in my defense--I have been distracted, no?

Anyway, to all those great bloggers to whom I was linked, I haven’t forgotten you. Your links will be back up in due course.

Maybe I’ll join the 21^st Century and start posting the occasional photograph, now that Blogger has enabled it. And to get me back in touch with the blogger I once was, I think I’ll borrow a page from what I’ve observed some other bloggers doing—anniversary posts—e.g.,“on this day last year, two years ago, three years, etc”.—not every old post, but maybe some of the better ones.

My long absence resulted in the inevitable comment spam that befalls neglected blogs. I should have known better. I’ve tried to clean out some of the crap, but the good ones are gone forever.

It’s a sad loss to no longer have all the wonderful comments that people have posted here over the years. To my mind, it was at least two-thirds of what made the blog worthwhile. I can never adequately express how thrilled I was to get the number of quality comments that I received from a whole variety of fabulous bloggers.

For the time being, I'll have to settle for Blogger's comments. Later this week. I'll see if I can get Haloscan back. I much preferred it.

It’s good to be back, and especially good to feel the warm breath still coming out of this old mouth, and the still-nimble fingers tapping the keyboard.

2005-08-12T14:11:00.000-07:00

Three Cheers To Eric Olsen On His Third

Happy Third Anniversary to Blog Critics!

Eric Olsen has done a fabulous job bringing this effort along. They celebrated the arrival of their ten millionth visitor last week. Ten Million? Boggles the mind.

I used to follow Eric back when he was doing the Tres Producers blog--a very hip, insightful review of popular music and of the emerging blogosphere. When I responded with a personal reminiscence -- inspired by his great post about the anniversary of the killing of the student protestors at the Kent State campus, Eric invited me to be a contributor to a venture he was going to be trying out.

That "venture," of course, turned out to be none other than Blog Critics. Unfortunately, I've been a meager contributor, but the site's wonderful success and Eric's anniversary and upcoming celebration (if you're anywhere around Ohio, it should be a blast) may inspire me to crank out some more contributions in the near future.

Way to go, Eric! You definitely deserve to be the Big Time Presence on the web that you now are.

2005-07-28T12:43:00.000-07:00

Belated Sympathies

My latest bout of blog-avoidance has caused me to be unaware of some difficult passages being endured by two of my favorite bloggers. That would be Elaine of Kalilily and Jordon Cooper.

Coop’s been ill and, according to his wife, Wendy, suffering a lot of discomfort. Elaine is struggling with moving both herself and her declining, 89 year-old mother, to a new home.

These are two extra-strong individuals and their considerable inner wherewithal will, I’m sure, get them through this. But they are both in pain, nonetheless.

I’ve sent my belated sympathies. If you admire Elaine and Jordon as much as I do, and have forgotten to get in touch with them—or, like me—were previously unaware, please let them know that you care.

2005-07-28T12:31:00.000-07:00

Local Loons

Former resident Frank Paynter requests some Berkeley updates. “How are things going in the Peoples Republic?” he asks.

No need to wonder, Frank. The looniness is alive and well. The latest exercise in more-politically-correct-than-thou finds a passionate movement afoot to change the name of Jefferson Elementary School. After all, Ol’Tom was a slave owner and its time we got his name off the building, etc. etc.

In heated school board meetings, less important matters like graffiti on the walls, trash on the grounds, and, oh, budgeting, got tabled so that this dire situation could be addressed.

Some poor contrarian soul had the temerity to stand up at one of these simmering meetings and observe that since we have a school named after Malcolm X, recognizing that his greatness is more important than the unsavory parts of his life, why couldn’t we accord Ol’Tom the same?

Well, as you can imagine, this hapless soul was practically hounded out of the hall. He may have even needed a bit of police protection in this presumably peace-loving burg.

The board, bless their hearts, was brave enough to vote down this nonsense, three to two, and the air is thick with outrage. A recall movement will likely be the next chapter, further deflecting attention from matters that count.

How often have these kinds of scenarios been played out around here? It’s like a broken record. If you want to see a municipal government that truly doesn’t work, just come to Berkeley.

The other piece of current insanity around here is the narrowing of Marin Avenue—a street which I’m sure Frank remembers. It’s the primary artery of North Berkeley, a crucial commuter route for thousands of residents making their way to and from work every day.

Under the appellation of the euphemism to end all euphemisms, “The Traffic Calming Project” (I’m not kidding), Marin’s already packed four lanes are being reduced to two. One can only imagine the chaos that is going to ensue.

In the Berkeley mindset, the hidden agenda behind all this is that if you can make driving unpleasant enough, you will get people out of their cars and they will start bicycling to work. Yeah, right.

It might be worth a try if they all worked in Berkeley, but those already-stressed guys and gals tooling down Marin Ave. toward the freeway ain’t working around here, that’s for sure. Thank you, thank you, thank you, dear lord, for letting me be semi-retired and working out of my home.

If it wasn’t for the physical beauty of this area, the climate, the great food, the cultural amenities, and my wife’s reasonably thriving local practice, I’d be very tempted to get the hell away from this madness.

2005-07-25T11:45:00.000-07:00

Bloggerhood/Age/Family Pride

Time to get back to the old blog again. I won’t go through any convoluted explanations or rationales about my most recent absence from the blogosphere--as I used to do after previous protracted silences.

I mean, what the hell? Lots of bloggers that I enjoy go through silent periods and then return—without explanation. It’s no big deal to them, so why should it be for me?

Well, actually, I do know why--at least in part. It’s because I start falling into a thought pattern that concludes that no one reads this blog anymore, so why take the time to keep it up? Well, as I’ve said in the past, blogging, among other things, is a commitment to communicate. Lose the commitment and lose the right to wear the moniker, “blogger.” And, I might add, become more isolated.

Maybe the real test of one’s “bloggerhood” is one’s willingness to go back at it after losing most of one’s readers—or fearing that they’re lost.

So here we go again. My return has been prompted by a couple of factors. Frank Paynter sent an email the other day to let me know about his nice write-up in a wonderful blog heretofore unknown to me. (Shameless self-promotion allowed in your case, Frank).

I’m referring to Ronni Bennet’s “Time Goes By.” Her tagline is “what it’s like to get older.” Well, that sure got my attention. I haven’t actually written that much about the experience in this blog, but, goddam, I am indeed right there in the middle of it!

I couldn’t agree more with what seems to be her general perspective on being in this stage of life—i.e., that it’s an un-heralded, under-appreciated, wonderful time—not without its downsides—but what stage of life isn’t?

Ronni’s writings are inspiring me to go through my archives to see what I’ve had to say about the subject, and maybe putting the relevant posts in a category link over on the sidebar.

There was one more factor that encouraged me to get the blog going again. It’s the emergence of my nephew, Jason, as a blogger. He’s been chronicling his semester abroad in New Zealand with some exceedingly good reads. Jason is hands down the best writer in the family. I’m thrilled to see him working his chops in the blogosphere. Way to go, J-O!

2005-05-13T11:16:00.000-07:00

Tending the Spirit

Ken McCarthy’s annual System Seminar was definitely worth attending—a needed shot in the arm for yours truly. The technical info was very helpful, as always, but that isn’t what really mattered. I don’t have to fly half-way across the country and shell out for hotel and food to get technical info.

What made the difference was the quality of the attendees and the great atmosphere that Ken puts together to attract such a stimulating audience. Ken assiduously avoids the pitch-fests that so often characterize such events. You know the drill: the presenters are there to pitch their books and tapes. Not at Ken’s events. Not only does this make for a far better experience, it creates the trust which draws the quality audience.

It was just great to meet and hang out with some really sharp people from all across the country—and the planet, for that matter. All sorts of interesting folks doing all sorts of interesting things. Internet marketing is still such a new, dynamic, learn-as-you-go kind of endeavor that being around some of its more effective practitioners makes for a truly stimulating atmosphere.

So it’s the people, far more than the presentations where the true value exists. Actually, the same could be said of the blogosphere. It isn’t so much what’s being said as it is the spirit that exists within and around the whole endeavor. It’s what makes it worth the effort.

I discovered that fact last year, somewhat painfully, when I dropped out of blogging for about nine months. A dry rot of isolation began to eat away at me—even though I was benefiting from the freed-up extra time. In the end, the extra time simply wasn’t worth it.

I’ve been known to make some snide remarks about the “circle jerk-ism” of all these blogging conferences to which some people are always running off—examining such who-gives-a-shit questions a “is blogging journalism?”

After my experience at my conference this past week, I realize that these blogging affairs—while the themes may be of manufactured consequence—serve a legitimate purpose for the attendees—providing community and a bolstering of the spirits in a new and uncharted territory where isolation and doubt are frequent enemies.

So, I’ll retract my previous smart-ass put-downs of these affairs—which is not to say that I won’t continue to savor the roastings that Jeneane and others dish out from time to time.

2005-05-12T15:38:00.000-07:00

In 'n Out

I'm back from Chicago. The conference was absolutely great. More about that tomorrow.

It was nice of AKMA to offer to keep his eyes open for me, but it wouldn't have done much good. I was in and out of Evanston in a flash--just long enough for a coffee (Peet's) and dinner (Wolfgang Puck's).

Next time I'm there, it would be great if I could arrange my schedule to include attendance at one of AKMA's sermons.

Having married into a Jewish family, and enthusiastically supported my kids being raised in that tradition, your humble blogger has not been inside a church in years--except for weddings and funerals. However, I would gladly make an exception for the opportunity to hear the good Reverend do his stuff. Ditto Jordon Cooper, by the way.

How much better would the world be if the preponderance of clergy of all faiths possessed the openess of mind and heart of these two worthies?

2005-05-04T12:44:00.000-07:00

From Our Fearless Reporter

You can always count on Sheila Lennon to dig up the good stuff. How about a Cream reunion concert at Royal Albert Hall?

Wow! I would have almost been willing to pay for a hop on the Concorde (if they were still flying) to get to that one. But then, imagine trying to get a ticket. You'd have a better chance of getting a private audience with the queen (not that you'd particularly want one).

Will they produce a video--pretty please?

Anyway, catch Sheila's account. Plenty of good links--as always in her case.

2005-05-04T12:05:00.000-07:00

In Rememberence of the Kent State Four

Thanks to Frank Paynter for reading the roll of our four murdered comrades.

Here's a link to an account of the event.

On this day three years ago, Eric Olsen, a native Ohioan, later to become the founding editor of Blog Critics, wrote this very interesting perspective in remembering the tragedy.

"I am of the opinion that May 4, 1970 was the day Youth Culture completed its ascendancy to dominance in the United States. The process had begun fifteen years earlier in movie theaters across the country as the electrifying downbeat of Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock” opened The Blackboard Jungle, a shocking film for its time, and ignited the rock ‘n’ roll explosion."

Eric's sharp insight inspired me to post a related personal experience--which remains one of my favorites from my archives. (Wish I coud blog like that every day).

2005-05-04T11:40:00.000-07:00

Expounding on Ratzo the Reactionary

Yule Heibel has responded to my request for some perspective about Ratzinger and the Hitler Youth issue. In doing so, she provides a backdrop of information and context that is truly enlightening. Her opinions, as aways, are extremely well-informed. She contributes a take on the new Pope and his past that I was looking for.

See the comments to my "Bavarian Muddle" post of May 2 directly below.

Many thanks to an extraordinary blogger!

2005-05-03T20:32:00.000-07:00

Peter the Great

86th birthday greetings to one of the greatest Americans of the second half of the twentieth century--and still going strong in the new century. That would be the mighty Pete Seeger.

Many thanks to wood s lot for an excellent birthday piece.

2005-05-03T13:23:00.000-07:00

Still Growing

The latest stats on blogs as reported by ClickZ.

2005-05-02T17:18:00.000-07:00

A Bavarian Muddle?

Thanks to Yule Heibel for the link to Billmon of Whisky Bar regarding the issue of choice, and Ratzinger's service in the Hitler Youth. He provides an excellent rundown of related stories.

I'll take Yule's word for it that Billmon has it right. However, if Jewish leaders aren't much concerned about Ratz's Hitler Youth episode, or his being drafted, are we making too much of it?

Admittedly, Ratz (or "Ratzo" as Frank Paynter deliciously refers to him) is an abysmal selection for Pope, but as for his youthful timidity (or ass-kissing) vis-a-vis the possibility of resisting, I have to believe that it must have required a bravery possessed by a rare few to have been able to take a stand in Bavaria, of all places.

I will glady be proven wrong on this. But isn't citing the example, as Billmon does, of the White Rose movement, however moving and however striking, ultimately a simplification?

I remember vividly what a complex and convoluted issue it was in the U.S. in the Sixties about whether to serve or not serve in the military. (Thank God I completed my service before Vietnam!!) A lot of people were just plain terrified to go against the established authority. That didn't make them bad people, in my view, even though many of radical bent were quick to condemn the average Joes who donned the uniform.

I assume it must have been more complicated than that, and certainly more terrifying in the Bavaria of 1941.

I could be off base on this one. My lack of clarity may well earn some rebuke. But I remember from the post-Vietnam era how easy it is to point fingers, and it 's something I try to avoid unless it's thoroughly unambigous, e.g., detesting Bush's invasion of Iraq.

Any clarification from Yule or others is most welcome.

2005-04-29T13:21:00.000-07:00

Returning to the Fold

It’s past time to get back into action here. I’ve been completely pre-occupied with an exhausting round of house renovation, and now I’m preparing to leave for an Internet marketing conference in Chicago. I’ve always been a terrible multi-tasker, and my advancing age makes me even more so. So the blogging has just gone down the tubes lately.

However, I got the blogging juices revived yesterday by having lunch with a terrific blogger that I've been wanting to meet for a long time, Maria Benet. I wasn't able to attend her recent reading and book signing marking the debut of her newly published book of poems, "Mapmaker of Absences," so I emailed her and suggested a lunch date so that I could get a signed copy of her book (not to mention the opportunity to enjoy the considerable pleasure of her company).

The slim, attractively designed book is, for me, a small treasure and I was thrilled to get her inscription. If you've done any reading at all of Maria's blog, you know what a hell of a writer she is and probably won't be surprised to learn that her poetry is great too--even better. I can't recommend this book too highly. Do yourself a favor and order a copy.

This was the fourth time I've met and spent a little hang time with a blogger from my blogroll. Although the four individuals are all quite different(Frank, Dorothea, and Denise are the others), the experience is always the same in many respects: the sense of already knowing each other; lively and stimulating interchange; having discussions about other bloggers almost as if they were members our own famililes; trying to dissect what it is about blogging that makes it special, and never quite being able to express it adequately, but nonetheless knowing exactly what the experience is that the other person is trying to express; and probably seeming wierd and esoteric to those within earshot. It's a unique and special bond.

The other thing I've noticed in each case is that the blogger is the measure of the blog. That is, the qualities that make the blog special are personified in the real-world person. What you read is what you get. I think it may be quite likely that the community of serious bloggers is one of the least phony groups of people you could find anywhere.

It certainly holds true in Maria's case. Totally unaffected and down-to-earth despite considerable smarts and artistic talents--oh, and she's technically adept as well. She started blogging with her own personally developed software before blogging software programs came on the market.

I'm in awe of people who can carry the tech mind and the artist mind in the same brain. Maria demurs, saying she's no Shelley Powers. Maybe not. After all, who is? But I'm still mightily impressed.

OK. I hope there's another blogger in the wings who will grace my path one of these days. It could be a great hobby.

2005-04-05T19:41:00.000-07:00

Ode to Oregon

We’re back home after a gorgeous trip to Oregon, whose praises I shall sing. Too bad I don’t have any Oregon readers—at least none that I know of (maybe b!x, the outstanding Portland blogger, who used to drop by every once in a while. But that was way back in the first flush of the early blogdays--before he converted his blog from personal to a communique on civic affairs).

Anyway, Oregon is not only beautiful but mellow—the way Northern California used to be before the age of the Yuppies.

Up until around fifteen years ago, there was a whole crop of outlying towns around here that had been populated by former city-dwellers whose agenda was living the laid-back life and escaping consumerism. It was great fun to visit these places because one could relax and enjoy a sense of freedom from the acquisitive pressures and poseur-ism of the urban scene.

Nowadays, except for prettier surroundings, these places, in terms of life-style, are nearly indistinguishable from the city. Materialism and competitiveness rule. The same SUV’s, glitzy boutiques, celebrity chefs, ten-dollar martinis, unaffordable art, wine snobs, and show-offs sully the scene.

Some call it progress. Rural towns going cute-sy is not my idea of progress.

But, lo and behold, Oregon has retained its soul. The towns are wonderful, real, down-to earth, but with enough of a hip element to make them interesting. As in the old days in California, the primary driving force among the urban transplants is definitely non-materialistic. How refreshing!

This made for a great vacation. I’ll be back.

Of particular note, I might add, is the town of Ashland. A gem! The perfect combination of great scenery; culture mixed with down-home people; hip-ness with small-town mellowness; the way things used to be co-existing with the way they are now—minus the phoniness.

2005-03-27T09:10:00.000-08:00

Break Time

Spring Break is here. We're outta here for some R & R up in the beautiful state of Oregon. 'Til I return, Happy Spring, everyone!

2005-03-21T15:39:00.000-08:00

Knee-Jerkism is Alive and Well

Once again, I’m going to riff off of a comment from Maria Benet. (Keep those comments a-comin’ Maria! You save me from trying to find material for a post).

Thanking me for the link to Jonathon Delacour’s post, she comments:

“Funny thing is that two nights ago, at dinner with old friends, we were discussing much the same issues that came up in relation to Bertolucci and Paris in 1968 (the way Jonathon mentions it)”

It sounds like Maria has more stimulating dinner companions than Jill and I have been having lately. Yes, I know, this is Berkeley, but there's a hell of a lot of closed-mindedness in the guise of intellectualism around here that can make dinners as stifling as an obligatory feed at Grandma's back in the redneck area where I grew up.

For example, our most recent dinner guests -- advanced degrees and all -- when the subject of Scorsese's "The Aviator" came up--raised their noses and proclaimed that they wouldn't set foot in any theatre showing this flick because Hughes was a fascist creep and Leo DiCaprio is just a vapid Hollywood smart-ass airhead, or something like that..

They’re probably right about Hughes, but it took some real effort to transcend the loosening effects of the dinner wine and refrain from guffawing at their learned opinion of a performance they hadn’t actually seen. The distinction eluded them, however, when I brought it up with as much politeness as I could muster.

My discretionary remark elicited a swift rejoinder: “You don’t have to actually GO SEE DiCaprio to know he’s terrible,” or something like that.

So much for advanced education. We should have discussed Bertolucci. I presume he would have been safe.

2005-03-20T20:26:00.000-08:00

Blog Fatigue

It's been only about a month since I returned to blogging, but I'm already noticing something different about the experience. Something seems to be amiss in the blogosphere. There's an air of fatigue that I sense out there. And worse.

Jonathon Delacour, one of the truly elegant voices of this medium, has put his finger on this uneasiness in his own special way. His post today, "Before the Revolution," recaps a bit of the history of Talleyrand and the French Revolution, and employs it as a compelling run-up to a simple but profound conclusion:

"Those who did not blog in the years before the revolution cannot know what the sweetness of blogging was. "

There's a hell of a lot of context surrounding this brief assertion to which I cannot do justice. Go read Jonathon's post instead. I suspect some interesting threads will get generated out of this--at least I hope they will. Robust discussions help keep some of the fatigue at bay.

2005-03-17T18:00:00.000-08:00

Hello Madness

What's not to like about March? There's my birthday, Frank Paynter's puppy's birthday, St. Patrick's Day, green beer, daffodils, the end of winter, and best of all, March Madness--i.e., my very favorite sporting event, the NCAA basketball tournament.

There's a purity to college hoops that doesn't exist in the NBA. By that I mean good playmaking, team discipline, putting the team before the self, and indomitable spirit. And, unlike football, where only a handful of elite college teams are skillful enough to be worth watching, the level of play in college hoops is excellent throughout the whole tournament lineup of sixty-four teams.

There's a gathering dark side, unfortunately. More and more players, especially African-Americans, are not graduating. At some of the top basketball schools, take Georgia Tech and Oklahoma State as two examples, the graduation rates are bordering on the scandalous (around 20%).

Fortunately, the NCAA is finally deciding to address this unfortunate turn of events and will adopt policies next year which punish schools who fail to reach a 50% graduation rate. I have to say, though, that even 50% seems ridiculous to me.

When I was at Indiana, a basketball powerhouse (although not so much since the much-maligned Bob Knight got forced out), they were very serious about the players being able to cut it as students. Say what you will about Knight's tirades, he had one of the best graduation rates in the country, not to mention a Hall of Fame record.

I spent one summer working as a remedial writing tutor to the freshman players who were having trouble. They would not allow these guys, no matter how talented, to put on the uniform the next year if they couldn't get a passing grade in Freshman English. And it also didn't matter how rabidly insistent the fan base was about having top teams, the school would not let you on the court if you couldn't meet the same standard required of every other student.

Some of these guys were truly woeful when it came to tackling basic writing skills. Products of forlorn ghettos in rust-belt industrial towns, there was many a day when one of my charges would storm out in frustration, yelling, "Fuck it! I can't take this shit."

Next day, coach would have them sheepishly returning for the next session. Coach would say, "You can fuck the mother-tongue, or you can play for one of the top programs in the country. It's up to you."

Indiana's teams were noted for their disciplined team play, attention to fundamentals, and understanding of the game. Of course, that was the coach's doing, but I like to think that our rigorous tutoring sessions may have contributed a smidgeon.

After all, every experience that the brain has alters the neural paths in some way. Maybe our repeated bashings of these guys' heads with a structured approach to language had some small effect.

Well, I can't root for the Hoosiers this year. They didn't even make it to the tourney, for heaven's sake. How the mighty have fallen. But I'm a Big Ten guy so my money's on Illinois. Besides, my niece is a student there. That's as good a reason as any. As a birthday gift, my son has paid my entrance fee into a big betting pool. Go Illini!

2005-03-16T01:50:00.000-08:00

Taking Poetry Past the Parlor

Many thanks to Maria Benet for her comment to my post on marketing and authenticity. She writes, in reference to dealing with the publishers that are putting out her forthcoming book of poetry:

"I have often tried to brainstorm a few fun ideas to promote books and the press, but at the core, most members are too serious still to recognize the creativity involved in taking poetry past the parlor...."

"Taking poetry past the parlor." I love that! That Maria sure knows how to turn a phrase. It could be the title of a marketing seminar for artists and intellectuals. If I ever put something like that together I would gladly pay her a royalty for the title.

It's so gratifying to hear some recognition of the more "poetic" aspects of the marketing process from someone in the arts.

The most difficult and exasperating consulting assignment I ever had was doing some work for an art museum. The poor chap who hired me, the assistant director, shared the kind of understanding that Maria expresses, and tried to use me as an ally in changing the culture of the curatorial staff with respect to marketing.

Fat chance. Besides, I don’t do culture changing—especially with a bunch of intellectuals. Their position was very simple: put together the right exhibition. That IS the marketing, period—i.e.,”build it and they will come.” If there’s a more positional group than art museum curators, I’ve yet to meet them. I was very relieved when the board told the assistant director to can the project.

In a way, it reminds me of the time when I was soliciting some business from a young chiropractor. “Marketing?” she asked, somewhat incredulously. “I’m a professional who does excellent work. My patients say good things about me. Why would I need any marketing? I don’t even believe in it, unless you’re selling soap or something.”

I thanked her for her time and complimented her on the suit she was wearing, observing that it projected a very crisp, professional look.

"Well, I hope so,” she replied.

“But I thought you didn’t believe in marketing?” I shot back over my shoulder as I walked out the door.

I don’t usually do smart-ass stuff like that, but I simply couldn’t resist that one.

Actually, it isn’t just artists, intellectuals, and professionals. It’s often the same story with engineering or manufacturing people versus the marketers—the “build it and they will come” mentality.

Anyway, good luck to Maria in dealing with her serious-minded publishers.

2005-03-15T20:25:00.000-08:00

The Threadlighter

Interesting discussion going on at Burningbird on blogrolling, popularity indexes, and related matters. Shelley does such a great job of getting good threads ignited.

2005-03-15T13:43:00.000-08:00

A New Finger Opportunity

It takes me so damned long to catch on to cool Web stuff. Today, I finally discovered bugmenot.com -- a nifty little site that lets you bypass the annoying requirement of having to enter tons of personal info in order to access a site's content. How many hours have I wasted doing that?

Seeing as how newspapers are among the worst practitioners of this irritation, it's amazing that I gleaned this info right off the pages of the NY Times--on a front page story, no less. They already have my registration info, so in their case, bugmenot.com isn't going to make any difference. But there will be many others in the future for which I will now be able to give the finger when I want to view some of their content. It almost makes me giddy.

All you have to do is go to bugmenot and enter the URL of the content site you want to enter. Bugmenot returns a user name and password and, bingo, you're in!

2005-03-14T22:47:00.000-08:00

Authentically Eric

Great post today by Eric Norlin on authenticity in marketing. A simple but profound message: good marketing is being yourself. And another component, he suggests, quite correctly, is marketers and techies putting in some good hang time together (or, I would add, in the case of agencies, account people and creatives doing the same).

Although Eric never appeared to be on a traditional marketing career path, it just seems so natural, if you've followed his writing over the years as I have, that he's ended up thriving as a marketing exec. He imparts a nice sense of that in his piece today.

2005-03-11T14:13:00.000-08:00

Piscean Party

Birthday Greetings to all my fellow March bloggers. The ones I know about are JordonCooper, Elaine of Kallilly, Anita Bora, Denise Howell, and Richard Cody.

Wow! What a group. Fountains all of perceptive insight--as befits the Piscean clan.

If you're a March blogger that didn't get cited above please drop a comment or email so that you can be properly acknowledged.

2005-03-10T13:06:00.002-08:00

Ghosts and Gadgets of Antedotcom

Hooray! Dervala’s Divine Dispatches are now emanating from my own territory—just across the Bay in San Francisco. (Sorry—I realize that alliterations are amateurish, but freed from clients and editors, I can’t help myself. I love playing with’em) Anyway, a big fat Welcome!

In yesterday’s post, describing her office move, she wrote a line that brought me up short:

“Yesterday we moved to new offices, just down the street on Brannan and Fourth, where the dotcom ghosts walk.”

Ghosts walking Fourth and Brannan? Egads! I'm one of 'em--that's right where I worked--and nearly expired—HOWEVER, it was the PRE-dotcom bust.

Yes, kids, there was a big bad bust before there was a dotcom--when the only gadgets I toted were a spare beer-opener in the backpack and a tape casette player (black headphones).

Of course, there was the rage of the day--the old, original Mac--which had its own special bag--heavier than shit, but with which you could demonstrate your cutting-edgeness if you were willing to lug it around. But I don't think you could call it a gadget.

Well, that dear old Mac ushered in a helluva wave of new business activity. Suddenly people were freed from the constraints of large-scale IT centers (called DP in those days)--and from the tyranny of complex keyboard commands. You could go off on your own and publish all manner of stuff. You could be little and look big.

The original Macworld Magazine was founded just down the hall from our offices. It wasn't long before they took over the entire floor below us. They were swimming in money. Hip little restaurants began to sprout up all around, and you could wear anything as long as it was black.

Then, after years of Reagan's balooning deficits (sound familiar?) and a stock market crash, it all ended, painfully and quickly (sound familiar?). Fourth and Brannan was an overnight ghost town. That's when I started free-lancing. It was tough—really, really tough, but I scraped through.

Then, half a decade later, it all sprang back to life--and then some. It made our little boom look like child’s play. After a lifetime of pounding doors and begging for business, desperate emails started flooding the in-boxes—“can you pu-leeeze help us get our start-up off the ground?” Craziness. Reality turned upside down

And, then, half a decade later, it all collapsed again. One thing about aging--it sure gives you some perspective.

Anyway, my heart is gladdened that the capable and likable likes of Dervala Hanley are now walking the streets of my old turf--injecting some fresh life into a much-buffeted area.

Whatever new up-and-down currents lie ahead, I'm sure the likes of her will ride'em out with verve and class, albeit overly laden with all the gadgetry that I'm glad I don't have to screw with (cell and laptop excepted).

2005-03-09T20:06:00.000-08:00

Crew Days

I always enjoy Maria Benet’s posts about her sons’ crew races. They bring back a lot of memories. My younger son, Jonathan, did crew in high school and went to all the same venues that Maria writes about.

Getting into crew was the best decision the kid ever made. He got recruited by the University of Wisconsin, a grand school with a grand crew program. His high school boat mates have formed a bond that still holds tight. In fact, Jon and one of his boat mates are trekking to Israel together in a couple of months.

Maria describes her experience of listening to Dr. Dre while schlepping the kids in the car. :

" On the drive home, the car was filled with exhausted teens whose idea of a rest before going back to the boathouse to unload the boats from the trailer and rig them was to play Dr. Dre full blast. The ride lasted an interesting 45 minutes or so, during which I asked myself why don't more Social Studies teachers, or, heaven forbid, even literature teachers, present the work of Dr. Dre or Eminem in class. I, for one, got quite an education form listening with the boys. I wish more parents could hear what their children have to say about the music that moves them and brings them into their own world, a world that seems like such a threat in its distance to so many of those parents."

I’m intrigued and would enjoy perusing some of the lyrics if Maria would identify the Dre tunes worth checking out.

When I did car pooling duties for the lads a decade ago, it was a quite different experience. Being Berkeleyans, and therefore contrarians, these kids were having none of Nirvana, Pearl Jam, REM, or other big groups of the day. To my utter astonishment, the music they chose to blast through the car’s speakers could have come right out of my own collection.

Their tastes ran to Creedence Clearwater, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Jimi Hendrix, and the Doors. You could have blown me over with a feather. Instead of the car pooling being an annoying obligation, it was thoroughly enjoyable bonding experience.

Maria, you should be so lucky.

2005-03-08T14:35:00.000-08:00

A Favorite Recalled

Not only has my preceding post, relating as it does to the hoi polloi, mass medium of television, attracted no comments, it sank my page-views right into the toilet. It’s not surprising. A great many of my readers have mentioned on occasion that they do not watch television.

Rather than put them down as snobs, I chalk it up to their high level of intellectualism—and I allow myself to feel complimented by the fact that a number of people of their intellect are willing to stop by this humble page from time to time.

I wrote the post for BlogCritics, and should probably have just left it at that. But what the hell? I must have a few TV-watching readers out there somewhere.

Speaking of BlogCritics, I’m thrilled that editor Eric Olsen, one of the Cool Dudes of the blogosphere, has re-invited me to be a contributor. As with my blog, I had let my contributions to Eric’s Excellent Enterprise fall by the wayside.

I originally discovered Eric before he launched BlogCritics. He was then putting out TresProducers, a very hip compendium of pop music news and reviews.

And how did I discover TresProducers? Like countless other things in this medium—through the great Doctor Searls. Doc says he dislikes awards, but, at the very least, you gotta give him one for “Best Goddam Resource in the Known Blogosphere.”

Doc’s pointer to Eric inspired a post from me—and if I were asked to choose my favorite piece from my own archives, this would be it. Eric graciously wrote back and ultimately asked me to join BlogCritics when he got that going a short time later.

So, sorry non-TV watchers. You may have to put up with these TV posts from time to time.

2005-03-04T17:28:00.000-08:00

Wolf vs. Bruckheimer

In the ongoing battle between TV production giants Dick Wolf and Jerry Bruckheimer, Wolf has raised the ante with his newest permutation of the Law and Order format, “Law and Order: Trial by Jury.”

Premiering Thursday night, Wolf’s latest effort once again displayed the kind of tight scripting that has built the franchise into such a solid force. In the production wars, Bruckheimer, creator of the CSI franchise, may win for snazzy production-value, but Wolf takes the scripting prize hands down.

I’ve heard that Wolf’s group of writers is the only writing team in Hollywood whose average age is over 40. It shows, and I mean that in the good sense. Of course, my opinion on this is immediately suspect, seeing as how I’m well north of forty.

But, discounting my bias, there’s something to be said for writing that’s forged out of some longevity of life experience. The perpetually clueless television executives, who lust after the coveted youth audience (because these are the people whose buying habits are still in a state of flux), have all concluded (Wolf excepted) that they have to employ writers who aren’t dry behind the ears in order to be relevant to the desired audience.

Suffering one flop after another, they’ve now figured out that they can dispense with the writers altogether by going for the “reality” format.

Despite Wolf's capabilites, I do have a couple of minor quibbles with the new show: what is a guy with a slow southern drawl (Fred Thompson) doing as the New York District Attorney? Everybody knows that real-life NY DA’s are rapid-tongued Italians or Jews, spitting out words at the rate of an AK-47.

And, as always with all the Law and Orders, the assistant (Amy Carlson) to the assistant DA (nicely played by the talented Bebe Neuwirth ) is eye candy. Not to disparage Carlson’s abilities (the jury is out on that—pardon the pun), but can’t they come up with a normal-looking person? The men aren’t hunks. So why do the women always have to be so fetching?

I’m stupid for asking, you would retort—and you would be right. Next you would ask, “why would I mind?” You got me there. If the woman can act--then what the hell—bring on the eye goodies.

Anyway, Bruckheimer and Wolf are certainly ruling the roost for the time being (in standard broadcast TV, that is. I’m not including HBO greats like Brad Grey and Alan Ball. It may be TV, but it’s hardly the same medium).

Alas, nothing is permanent in TVLand. Despite their current domination, the force of these two whirlwinds will at some point begin to fade and pass on, just as it did with the previous king of the producers, David Kelley. Here’s hoping that the next big producer phenom will possess the ability to combine both the slick production-value acumen of Jerry Bruckheimer and the scripting chops of Dick Wolf.

Most likely, he/she will have to be extra-talented in both areas in order to compete with the Reality-TV juggernaut that threatens to take over the airwaves.

2005-03-02T15:06:00.000-08:00

A Good Thing

There's been a lot of enthusiastic talk lately both in the press and the blogosphere about podcasting--now that Noah Glass and Ev Williams are joining forces to make it a popular medium. The enthusiasm is well-founded--especially for bloggers because podcasting promises to be an audio version of blogging, among other things.

Some observers suggest that the new medium will need the support of advertising. Yes, most sophisticated, high-budget forms of podcasting will have to have it, but beyond that, I disagree totally. And I say that as an ex ad-guy.

Fortunately, I don't have to bother with writing a defense of my position because Denise Howell has done it with her usual succinct, well-reasoned, razor-sharp voice:

"The simplicity of "producing" a quickie, relatively low-tech podcast means an exponential increase in access to and distribution of specialized information. I feel exactly the same way about weblogs. Just getting the material out there is extraordinarily powerful. I don't need to have the Becker-Posner blog, for example, bear a stronger resemblance to something that is commercially supported; in fact, it's much better as far as I'm concerned if it does not. I'd feel the same way about any podcast its authors might choose to put out. Easy, cheap tools = low barrier to entry, huge numbers can do it at some baseline level of quality. This is a Good Thing, as is finding the occasional respite from the advertising that saturates our existence. (I mean, c'mon: building elevators?)"

Right on, Denise!

2005-02-28T11:09:00.000-08:00

Spontaneity Takes a Powder

Much to my amazement, every winner last night of the major Oscar award categories was exactly the person or film for which I would have voted were I a member of the Academy. I don't think that's ever happened before. Either I'm becoming clairvoyant, or the Academy is becoming more discerning and astute in its selections.

Hilary Swank for Empress of Everything!

I do have a complaint, however. The ceremonies keep becoming more tightly managed. Real spontaneity is a thing of the past. They're just not that much fun anymore. Host Chris Rock's comment was apropos:

"Next year, we'll give out the awards in the parking lot. We'll have a drive-thru lane where you can pick up your statue, whisked through by a traffic cop who keeps the line moving."

This leads me to a reminiscence, and that leads me to a side observation: it seems that in nearly all my posts these days, I dovetail into a reminiscence about something. If that's not a sign of age, I don't know what is.

Still, one of the things you try to do as a blogger is to contribute something personal and unique that only you could deliver. If you've been an adult since the late fifties, as I have, then you've got more stories to tell than current goings-on to recount.

Personal accounts of the past can, of course, be interesting, but it's tricky territory. We've all been put to sleep by some older relative droning on about "how it used to be."

But I'll take the risk. Recollections are harmless fun as long as you don't become preoccupied with them at the expense of keeping a forward-looking perspective--which is the essence of staying young in spirit.

There's also a certain built-in privilege that comes with the territory. After fifty years of adult living, while you lose some big things like sexiness and earning power, there are two big ones you gain: a measure of wisdom and many stories to tell.

Whether or not you can tell them in a way that has any relevance is another matter. But if you worry too much about that, you'll never get around to sharing anything.

Having said all this, I realize that the recollection to which I was going to digress is lightweight in the extreme. It was simply meant to underscore my point about how dull the Oscars have become.

Anyway, I remember watching the Oscars when they first started being televised (1953). There were no controls, it was just three or four cameras pointed at the proceedings, with a slight time-delay to bleep out any obscenities. There was no script. It was like telecasting a sporting event-whatever happens, happens.

There was no time limit on the speeches. You would get the occasional drunk, lots of good repartee, and much free-flowing high spirits. It was great fun, even if most of the acting awards were based on sentimental favorites rather than artistic merit.

It's ironic, isn't it, that in the age of "reality" television, with its alarming reduction in scripted shows, a real event like the Oscars becomes so scripted.

2005-02-26T13:50:00.000-08:00

The Loose Morality of the Aged

Despite ceaseless entreaties by mail, I've never been interested in joining the AARP--especially since their support last year of the Medicare reform bill which legalized a shameful cave-in to the all-powerful drug lobby.

This bill, to refresh your memory, while purporting to give seniors more affordable prescriptions, and thus a campaign talking point for Bush and Gang, actually forbids the government from negotiating with the drug industry on drug pricing. In other words, we got hosed, and once again, the evil genius, Karl Rove, managed to shield his puppet George from taking fatal heat on it. He also contrived somehow to convince the AARP in the bargain. (Would the Dems please steal some of this guy's fairy dust?)

So my attitude towards the AARP has been very simple: Up Yours, and you ain't gettin' any dues from me. However, now that they're fighting Bush on Social Security, they're starting to look human again. And they've attracted the ire of right wing wackos like the Swift Boat group and others who are mounting a campaign to accuse Their Graynesses of supporting a "shameful liberal agenda," in particular, same sex marriage and opposition to the troops in Iraq.

Yeah right. Those old fogies really love gay marriage. Those WWII and Korean vets really hate soldiers.

One would like to think that the wackos have shot themselves in the foot this time, but Paul Krugman, the astute observer of the NY Times, sounds a depressing and cautionary note.

Krugman is not willing to count these fools out:

"It's tempting to dismiss this as an exceptional case in which right-wingers, unable to come up with a real cultural grievance to exploit, fabricated one out of thin air. But such fabrications are the rule, not the exception. " . . . .

. . . So it doesn't matter that Social Security is a pro-family program that was created by and for America's greatest generation - and that it is especially crucial in poor but conservative states like Alabama and Arkansas, where it's the only thing keeping a majority of seniors above the poverty line. Right-wingers will still find ways to claim that anyone who opposes privatization supports terrorists and hates family values.

Their first attack may have missed the mark, but it's the shape of smears to come. "

Well, maybe I'll stop tossing the junk mail pieces from AARP. Could a membership be next?

2005-02-22T16:17:00.000-08:00

Old and New; Fake and Real

Well, I managed to get myself back to the blogopshere just in time for my blog's third anniversary. Feb 21, 2002 was launch day for these humble pages. I had no idea what to expect. Urged on by the likes of Jeneane Sessum, inspired by the likes of David Weinberger, I dipped my toes into the water--despite harboring suspicions that this blog business was just the latest fad, destined to give way as bloggers moved on with their lives, as they inevitably would. As it turns out, some of that is actually happening, but more about that later in the post.

Little did I realize in early '02 that those of us engaging in this medium were actually a relatively small vanguard of a tidal wave that was yet to come. Yes, it's great that everyone is blogging these days, but I have some sympathy for those starting out in the current environment if they're at all interested in reaching an audience of any size. It must be much more difficult now than back in '02.

So many of the newer blogs are just fronts for promotions of whatever the "blogger" is hoping to profit from--employing whatever clever search engine optimizing techniques he or she can devise.

In this insincere, self-serving atmosphere, I think it's incumbent upon us (scratch "incumbent." I forgot. There are no rules in blogging) ---Re-stated: It would be desirable if we made some effort to seek and point out new bloggers who are the genuine article.

Oh, screw it. This is sounding elitist. What I'm trying to say is that I'm going to begin to make some effort to find newer blogs that I like and give'em a mention. I hope many of my readers will do the same. Many already do. It just seems to me that the new guys may need more of a boost than we did when we started out.

Speaking of early bloggers, it's hard to think of one who's been at the game longer than Justin Hall--ten years at least. The term "blog" didn't even exist when he got underway. Justin, the San Francisco Chronicle reports in a front page article, has called it quits.

I find it a bit weird to be coming back just when Hall and others are splitsville, and exits seem to be the dominant story of the day. Sheila Lennon emails me, "I hope you're reversing a trend." Well, Sheila, could be. Blog notable Rebecca Blood, quoted in the same article, observes:

" 'You know, the struggle to maintain relationships when you are heavily involved in a project isn't specific to Justin or to other bloggers. Ninety-nine percent of everything that goes on in the Internet happens in the real world. History is filled with examples of people's passions conflicting with work. When you throw yourself into something, it can be difficult to maintain relationships.'

Throwing yourself in relationships, though, can be as unsustainable as focusing all your energy on work, which is why Blood and others think that Hall will return.

'The trend I think we're going to see more and more in the future is people leaving and coming back,' Blood said."

As for profiting from one's blogging, to quote Jerry Seinfeld, "not that there's anything wrong with that." Chris Locke has been doing it from day one--although given his recent difficulties, He might well take issue with the term "profit," but you get my drift.

Dervala Hanley got a recent job offer from some people who discovered her blog and were astute enough to recognize what a prize catch she would be.

And, as I recently observed to Jeneane Sessum, if I were still in my agency days, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot some biz her way--just on the strength of her blog. I wouldn’t even have to see her portfolio.

These examples, of course, are a far cry from the search engine hucksters trying to hijack this medium. Meanwhile, lend a hand to those new guys--the good ones, that is. And if you know any lapsed bloggers, see if they're open to being nudged back in. Frank Paynter and Jeneane took the trouble to do that with me and, guess what, it worked.

Post Script: To celebrate my anniversary. I finally got around to getting a site feed. I may be slow as molasses, but I do catch up eventually. Anyway, if you want to subscribe to the feed, just click my shiny new Bloglines button at the bottom of my links.

2005-02-21T13:08:00.000-08:00

Adieu Dr. T

A sad farewell to the original Gonzo. Was there ever any doubt that when Hunter Thompson's time came, this is how it would end? How many drunken, hallucinatory nights could the man survive without eventually saying, "Fuck it," and reaching for one of his ever-ready firearms? The man was not one for screwing around.

I first discovered the mad Dr. Thompson in Rolling Stone Magazine in 1972. He had been hired to cover the Democratic primary contest of that year. (It was later developed into a book: "Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72' ")

I remember his article beginning with an account of his conversation with George McGovern while the two men were taking leaks in adjoining urinals in a hotel men's room somewhere in the frozen precincts of New Hampshire. This is the ultimate inside reporting, no?

To digress, I find--in my lifelong study of public men's rooms--that on many occasions, the urinaters will attempt to carry on a little banter with the chap at the next urinal--usually on subjects demonstrating their wholesome proclivities (e.g., "Man, how about that Jennifer Lopez?" or "Did you catch the Daytona 500?" etc.). This chitchat not only establishes a zone of saftey, it allows the gents to make eye contact and thereby protect themselves from any inadvertent downward glances in the other guy's direction).

Back to the subject at hand, 1972 was one of the most fascinating primaries in my memory, and perhaps one of the most fateful. Ed Muskie was the odds on favorite--the establishment figure--the one most feared by the paranoid Nixon and the target of his dirty tricks squads. This was the alleged birth of such tactics, which are by now a depressingly familiar feature of all campaigns.

McGovern was the leftie and the victory of his wing of the party was often said to be the beginning of the end for the modern Democratic Party. Yet four years later, the Dems were back in power. Things always change in politics. Sweeping statements about future directions are always sabotaged by the flow of unpredictable events.

I keep reminding myself of this when I get overly depressed about what is happening to our country.

Post script: Sheila Lennon's got a great piece on HST. Check it out.

2005-02-19T13:39:00.000-08:00

Mayor Hip

One thing that hasn't changed in my absence from the blogosphere is the amazing amount of web-related info that pours out of Doc Searls blog. You would think that the man must have a staff of researchers. I'm sure he doesn't. He's just blessed with a brain that works at twice the speed as the rest of us.

Doc's post a few days ago pointed to the new blog set up by Jerry Brown, the with-it mayor of my neighboring city of Oakland. Way to go, Jerry! A superb looking TypePad layout, by the way. I wish I had the chops to put something like that together.

There's been a lot of speculation about blogs being the wave of the future in public as well as private communication. Mr. Mayor's new efforts in this sphere may provide a bit of insight into the potential of our medium to transform public dialogue.

I'm not convinced yet. While brand-spanking new, nonetheless Brown's blog has the feel and smell of some plain old-fashioned PR in hip clothing. But kudos to Jerry for giving it a whirl. May my skepticism be proven wrong.

2005-02-18T10:41:00.000-08:00

Re-Entry Cont’d

Now that I've declared my re-entry into the blog world, I'm actually going to have to sit down and create some posts from time to time. That's the catch.

One of the things that got me away from blogging was that I grew tired of always having my consciousness wrapped around the question of what I was going to come up with for the next post. It became a job. As many bloggers have vowed, if it ever gets to that point, they'll quit or severely scale back.

So I have to come up with a new way to be a blogger without being obsessed by it. All suggestions welcome. All I know is that it really didn't work to stay away. The loss of community was very painful, although it took a while for it to register.

There were competing factors that obscured that sense of loss--a fabulous trip to Europe and all the preparations which that entailed; and an unbearable disgust with the election season and an accompanying desire to avoid all the angst and false hopes that would most likely be whipped around the blogosphere with predictable ferocity.

The new angst du jour is what can the Democrats do to become a winning party again. I'll just let that one pass. The question irritates me no end but I won't let it keep me out of this space. The Dems will be back when a critical mass of the electorate decides they've been had. It may take a generation. Meantime, quit trying to be fake crackers and belated finders of religion. Ain't gonna work.

Anyway, it was really gratifying to see all the visitors who stopped by since my re-entry post. Of course, it didn't hurt to have plugs from such luminaries as Mark Woods and Jeneane Sessum.

Well, I've got a hell of lot of catching up to do on all those great blogs out there. I wonder if anyone else has given up the ghost? Shelley’s down temporarily, but she always comes back. I’ve been de-listed from some of my favorites—quite understandable. No hard feelings. I accept that and know that I have to earn my way back. If anyone chooses to reinstate me I’ll be thrilled, of course.

I see that one of my de-listers is Maria Benet, author of the wonderful Alembic, and just a bridge trip across SF Bay from me. A quick check of her blog informs that she finally got her book out, and, praise be, a book party has been arranged to launch it. As soon as I sign off here, I’m jumping on the email to see if I can wrangle an invite. I think you can get her book through her site. Check it out.

A final note---look for me to finally get with it and start putting up some photos in this boring-looking space. In my absence, Blogger has come up with some nice looking templates. If I can figure out how to switch without losing customized code, maybe this dinosaur format will get a new look.

2005-02-16T15:06:00.000-08:00

Crawling Towards Third

OK. Decision time. Is Insiteview going to be just one more in a growing scrap heap of abandoned blogs, riddled with comment spam like maggots on a rotting carcass?

Or is it going to reach for the tendrils of resuscitation and crawl back to some semblance of life—even at the risk of being a pale shadow of its former incarnation?

I launched this blog three years ago next week. I made a commitment to myself to keep it going for one year, no matter how discouraged I might become. A piece of cake, as it turned out. That first year was a blast.

I watched in wonder as the readership kept growing. I was blown away by the quality of the blogs that began linking to me. I was amazed to see my Google listings expand to over twenty pages.

The second year continued to be solid—for a while. Eventually, things began to slip. The blog was becoming a struggle as other priorities intervened.

As the second anniversary arrived last February, I found myself unwilling to make any more commitments. By May, after an ever-growing infrequency, the posts just stopped coming—not out of any conscious decision—just apathy, inertia, competing foci, and a stupid inner voice that kept insisting I had nothing left to say.

After all, when Insiteview got underway I was in the first flush of retirement, suddenly awash with unaccustomed buckets of spare time. Surfing blogs and writing one of my own filled them perfectly.

As the end of the second blog-year approached, however, it became depressingly clear that I couldn’t afford the time-luxury any longer. I had made some serious miscalculations, financially and emotionally, about my ability to manage this strange world called “retirement.”

It seemed, I told myself, that I needed to get back into the world and that blogging was in the way. What a gross misjudgment!

My absence from the blogosphere (I haven’t even been reading blogs, let alone writing one) has turned out to give me a more stinging experience of isolation than my departure from the workplace.

During the recent blog hiatus, I entered my seventh decade. Mathematical purists will point out that it’s actually the eighth, but screw that. When I say “seven,” people know what I mean. Who needs technicalities?

In the funk of my self-enforced isolation, I rationalized that I probably wasn’t “relevant” anymore, anyway. As a sexagenarian I could joke about getting older, but still, like Elaine, feel a strong connection to the mostly younger universe of fellow bloggers.

But the age thing doesn’t seem like much of a joke anymore—even though, thanks to my mother’s genes (at 70 she could pass for 55), and to a younger wife and children still in their twenties who keep alive my unreconstructed spirit of rebellion—I suppose I actually have no reason to consider myself a has-been, despite the inner mind-chatter that suggests otherwise.

Perhaps my exile from the bloghood is reinforcing this chatter. Perhaps a re-engagement would shift the conversation to, “Hey, Stupid, you’re still in the game.”

My wife, Jill, who has zero patience with my lamentations over my alleged future irrelevance to the blogosphere blasts me with a straightforward retort: “Too old, my ass! You should consider yourself a trailblazer. These younger people want to know what you have to say.”

More ominously, superblogger Jeanene Sessum, who shepherded my entry into blogging, admonishes, in a socially-incorrect all-caps email, “DON'T GIMME NO LIP, NOW, JUS GET YOURSELF BACK ONLINE TO THAT BLOG AND I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ONE LITTLE WORD ABOUT IT. DON'T TELL MAMA YOU BUSY, DON'T TELL MAMA YOU GOT BETTER THANGS TO DO. . .”

Well, that settles it, doesn’t it? Choice is no longer a factor.

Post Script:
Comment spam has wiped out all the wonderful comments that people have left here over the course of my blogging life. I’ve erased all the offenders—at the expense of several hours—and we’ll see what happens. I’ll stick with Haloscan for the time being. It’s been a good service, but if I can’t contain the spam and people’s comments get over-ridden again, I’ll try Blogger comments. Any advice welcome. If you want to comment, please give it a whirl.
Post Script Two: I can’t end this post without an acknowledgement of Frank Paynter—who has been gently nudging my butt from time to time and letting me know that my writing is missed. Without Frank’s contacts and expressions of caring, I might not have

2004-05-01T12:21:00.000-07:00

Offspring Exposed

A check of Technorati informs me that one of my son’s college buddies has put me on his blogroll. That would be one Ed Lo, author of Leftover Chinese, a nicely designed, entertaining blog chronicling the adventures of a recent grad as he navigates his post-college entry into adult life in the big city.

I’m always flattered when a talented twenty-something blogger puts me on his or her blogroll. And Ed, I’m pleased to return the favor, even if you are a Brewers and a Packers fan. If my son could put those negatives aside, so can I.

Ed has a nice photo gallery that includes my sons—taken mostly in settings involving alcohol. Lord knows where they learned to entertain themselves in such a fashion.

Anyway, if you want to catch a glimpse of both of my handsome offspring, Ed has links to some pics taken during the celebration of son Jonathan’s recent graduation from the University of Wisconsin. Jill and I had pooped out of this party well before it got steamy, but yours truly did manage to get a few more down the hatch than I normally do.

I had a breakfast date with Frank Paynter at 7:00 the following morning, and if you want to see your humble writer in morning-after pallor, Frank affords you the privilege with this photo.

Here’s one of the proud graduate (Jonathan—the one in glasses) holding forth during a post-ceremony, intellectual round-table discussion. His older brother, Aaron, can be seen directly across the table, in paternal emulation with reassuringly firm grasp on beer glass.

Another photo shows Aaron a few hours later, by now three sheets to the wind, in conspiratorial mode with his cousin—my drop-dead gorgeous niece, Kelly (sorry, guys, she has a fiancé, so don’t bug me for the email address)—plotting the corruption of my under-age nephew and niece on the right side of the photo.

2004-04-29T13:41:00.000-07:00

Kerry Karma

I forgot to report on a Kerry fundraiser I recently attended. I’m still somewhat in a state of shock at the amount that Jill and I became emboldened to fork over (several C-notes).

Oh well, what the hell? I’ve been bitching and moaning about Bush being the most dangerous president of all time. Time to put my money where my mouth is. My tax bill came up a few thousand short of what I was anticipating. So why not take a chunk of my proceeds from the disastrous tax cut and throw it back in the face of these weasels?

In the spirit of the Laws of Karma, Jill’s name was picked out of the hat for the Grand Prize in the drawing that concluded the affair. We’re getting a free dinner at one of San Francisco’s hottest new restaurants—Town Hall. The critics have been raving about it. Wow! Never won anything before. Hope it’s a harbinger for the election.

The host of this affair has given fundraisers for many years. He has an exquisite home up the hill from us and likes to use it for good purposes. He said that the take from this year’s event was more than DOUBLE his highest take ever.

An encouraging sign—especially given the fact that, this being Berkeley, there was a large sprinkling of Nader-leaning Kerry skeptics circling about.

So, despite their whining and smart-ass, more-politically-correct-than-thou attitude, they were curious enough and concerned enough to come listen to the Kerry surrogate. That wouldn’t have happened four years ago. They wouldn’t have been caught dead at a Gore fund-raiser.

And their presence most certainly did not dampen the enthusiasm nor inhibit the deep reach into the pockets of many folks like myself.

May our humble neighborhood event be a microcosm of broader trends everywhere!

2004-04-22T14:01:00.000-07:00

The New Nirvana

Here’s an item that hasn’t made it to the DaypopTop 40, but deserves a spot right up there. The current issue of a local rag, The East Bay Express, fearless reporter of all things weird in our divine California culture, has a lead article, cleverly titled “The Wonk of Wank,” about Joseph Kramer, the High Priest of—get this--Masturbation Education.

I'm not making this up. Not only did Kramer found, and subsequently license, circle-jerk workshops for men on how to improve their masturbation, he got his coursework licensed by the State. You can now get a license to teach this stuff!

No wonder California has the reputation it does.

Kramer’s defenders will no doubt accuse me of simplifying something profound and missing the point--that the purpose of the training is not how to jerk off, but rather, how to attain higher states of consciousness through the application of the right auto-erotic techniques.

OK. I plead guilty.

Gee, to think I’ve wasted all these years seeking Nirvana with art, music, poetry, philosophy, meaningful conversation, sexual congress with someone you love, psychedelics, pharmaceuticals, hiking, golf, and baseball—when all the while it was within my hand and a closed door.

Well blow me down and gag me with a spoon!

If this were the route to enlightenment, all males would be Ascended Masters. I can’t think of any area less in need of instruction than male masturbation. Yes, there may be more than one way to skin a cat, but this is out of the spigot and over the top.

Wrong metaphors, but you get my meaning.

2004-04-20T15:19:00.000-07:00

The Silence of Gadgets

An interesting string of comments to Yule Heibel's post of April 18 in which, among other things, she reflects on the way things are different for today's youth with respect to the way they may be processing the psycho-social-sexual dynamics of the offline world while living in a now-ubiquitous virtual one.

Commenting on others' comments, Yule says,

"I don't know, maybe teens and 20-somethings generally walk around, in between rushes of pure physicality, in a hormone-induced stupor akin to a batch of bad dope. I know I did, and it took me a while to really get a hold of my body: it was the roller-coaster thing -- "I'm alive!! I'm dead... I'm alive!! I'm dead...." But at the same time, I didn't have to deal with all the GADGETS and their mediation of my life. I could get stoned or drunk, I could go dancing, I could listen to music, read, or make art, or write, but I couldn't plug my brain into a computer. I didn't have a relationship with an online community or an anime or an avatar. I don't know how that really changes things. . . . . . . . . Things have changed for kids, in relation to the stuff we put in front of them and subsequently in terms of their peer experiences, and it's really not completely the same for them, today, as it was for us, back then."

Last week we were celebrating my youngest son's twenty-fifth birthday at an Italian joint over pasta and martinis, and something in the conversation--I don't remember what--probably Iraq--inspired Jon to say,

"I have to admit, most of my peers don't seem to give much of a crap about anything, or if they do, they don't do much to express it."

His older brother agreed: "They don't seem to have the passion you guys had. Why is that?"

Very perceptive of the lads. I reminded them that I've noticed, over their teen years and beyond, that whenever I saw them get together socially with their peers, or discussing plans for it, the main event of the evening was usually watching a flick on the VCR or DVD, followed by participation in video games and/or fantasy sports leagues on the Internet.

I contrasted that with the social get-togethers in my youth:

"There was no renting a flick, playing a video game, and certainly no Internet. You TALKED. If you were sufficiently lubricated, you might join in song. Or someone might get up the nerve to whip out a notebook and interject, "here's a poem I've been working on. Tell me what you think." Or someone might grab a book off the shelf and read aloud from something."

All those activities--the talking, the singing, the reading aloud--the stuff I don't see happening much in the social life of my son's peers--are most likely healthy contributors to building the kind of passion whose lack is being noticed by my sons, and whose presence helped lead their counterparts of an earlier world into not just vociferous protest, but wild exuberance over rock stars and folk musicians, and, yes, even poets (see my previous post).

I'm not trying to ascribe any superiority here to one generation over another. Just speculating, along with Yule, on what the effects might be of a world that's inexorably
changed.

I'm reminded of something I once posted to my blog:

"I wonder--had the internet been available in the '60's--would the power of the protest have been deflected by people taking out their outrage in a flurry of blogposts? Would they have had the illusion--and only the illusion--of empowering themselves and changing history through the act of cross-blogging, when, in actuality, the only force that could have changed anything was the years of dogged determination, blood in the streets and campuses, defections to Canada, banishments from the family, willingness to spend time in the slammer?"

2004-04-12T13:58:00.000-07:00

Howling Recollections

An interesting piece of nostalgia in today's San Francisco Chronicle, occasioned by the sale of a local storefront--now a rug emporium, but a half century ago, an art gallery which was the scene of a seminal moment in American cultural history.

The year was 1955, and a motley collection of avant-garde poets of the day had gathered at the site, then known as The Six Gallery. The group included such future luminaries as : Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Philip Lamantia, Philip Whalen, Michael McClure, Kenneth Rexroth, and Jack Kerouac. Whew!

To quote Kerouac's description: "I followed the whole gang of howling poets to the reading at Gallery Six that night, which was, among other important things the birth of the San Francisco Poetry Renaissance. Everyone was there. It was a mad night.''

It was the occasion of the first public reading of Ginsberg's at-the-time, earth-shattering "Howl."

As The Chronicle describes it,

"The crowds that stood under the big redwood pillars of the place and lined the black painted walls were stiff at first. Some of them even wore ties. But soon they warmed up. They were high on cheap red wine (Kerouac had taken up a collection and bought several jugs) and on the poetry . . . . Kerouac yelled 'Go! Go! Go!' Old poets wept and the room rocked with the power of the language.

Dennis McNally, Kerouac's biographer, quotes Lamantia as saying it was 'like bringing two ends of an electric wire together.'

Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who owned City Lights, was there, too, and sent Ginsberg a telegram that famously quoted Emerson: 'I greet you at the beginning of a great career. When do we get the manuscript?'

McClure wrote years later, the night and Ginsberg's performance 'left us standing in wonder ...but knowing at the deepest level that a barrier had been broken, that a human voice had been hurled against the harsh world of America and its supporting armies and navies academies and institutions and ownership systems and power support bases.'

'A point of no return,' McClure called it."

I wonder if a single poem could have that kind of power and reaction in today's world. I doubt it.

I think that the darkness of the 50's--subsequently purveyed to the younger generation as a time of happiness and simplicity--was one of those situations where you had to be there to fully grasp what a disheartening time it actually was. Artistic souls were among the few people of the time who were able to see the myopia and dishonesty that permeated our public and social life.

Consider the despair of today over Iraq and the rest of the Bush horrors, and magnify that by ten. There were no organized voices of protest, no tradition of protest, no possibility of protest. If you thought that the state of society was dangerous to the soul, you kept it to yourself and a handful of like-minded others--if you were fortunate enough to have any.

The make-believe facade of happy times was crushing and nearly impenetrable. I think it was that kind of atmosphere that made "Howl " such a breathtaking event. And let us not forget that Ferlinghetti was busted for publishing it.

Today's article from The Chron has prompted me to recall how I got into blogging.

Back in January 2001, I was exchanging some emails with Jeneane Sessum, exploring the possibility of getting into blogging. In her group blog, GonzoEngaged, which was very active at the time, and crackling with daily give-and-take from some of the best bloggers in the game, Jeneane graciously introduced me and quoted from something I had written her. Thanks to her pushing me into the scene and giving me a favorable reaction, I was then emboldened to start my blog.

Here's what Jeneane quoted from one of my emails (I can't remember why I was writing about this, but anyway, here it is):

"Suddenly, it's 1958. I'm sitting in my college pad in the attic of a cheesy rooming house. My on-top-of-everything buddy, Jack, hands me a book of poetry and says, 'fasten your seatbelt.' It's Allen Ginsberg's 'Howl' It's one of those moments you never forget. I'm practically leaping out of my chair. I know, instinctively, that somehow, somewhere, the revolution we didn't know we were hungering for has begun.

It was ten years before the streets spilled over, but, believe me, there were plenty of discussion groups going on in the interim--perhaps not so different from GonzoEngaged--people not wanting to live The Lie any longer--ferment and urgent inquiry simmering beneath the surface of the bullshit gentility of the time."

2004-04-07T20:20:00.000-07:00

130 Years and Disengagement

I won’t apologize for my infrequent blogging of late. It’s just the way the ball is bouncing at this current stage. I’ve been preoccupied and not only not writing, but not surfing other blogs.

I figured that I better try to crank something out now because it’s only going to get worse in the coming days. Procrastinator that I am, I’m going to be completely sunk in the swamp of tax preparation for the next week or so—a task even more overwhelming this year due to re-opening my business after a retirement with a lifespan rivaling that of the fruit fly.

To those tempted to say, “Get an accountant,” forget it. I’m a cheapskate.

Immediately following this tempest, comes a more pleasant, but very time-consuming task—nailing down itineraries and accommodations for our European vacation this summer. Jill and I have just completed our decade-turning birthdays (60 and 70), and we decided to celebrate 130 years of combined existence with our first-ever joint European trip.

So, best to get in a post now, before the deluge hits.

There’s been another wrinkle getting in the way of my blogging—admittedly a bit esoteric, but perhaps a dynamic worth mentioning.

Reaching this milestone birthday has been something of an emotional challenge. A change of perspective is needed. One’s usual linear and physical way of looking at the world will only make you depressed when you contemplate the amount of time you’ve been hanging around, vis-à-vis how little is left.

I refuse to spend that remaining time in a state of depression. It ain’t gonna happen. So, the spiritual orientation becomes doubly important at this stage. I don’t mean New-Agey magical thinking horseshit. I mean a change in the way one regards the “self.”--elevating the consciousness to a level where one is operating from a broader perspective than just that of the body/mind mechanism.

I’ve found that one of the best tools for facilitating this shift is an exercise recommended by Florinda Donner, the former sidekick to Carlos Castaneda and one of the sorcerer’s apprentices to the late don Juan Matus.

She suggests writing a journal every day in which you do not allow yourself to refer to yourself in the first person. Your journal ends up sounding something like this: “Tom mulls over the notion that_________.” “Tom concludes that___________, yet he is concerned that____________.” Ultimately he decides to_____________.” “He notices that he’s feeling________,” and so on.

It’s very stilted, of course, but when I practice this exercise, I notice that the self, or ego-consciousness, does seem to recede somewhat. Feared burdens begin feeling lighter, possibilities greater, daily events more enjoyable. This is a space I want to occupy more often. It’s an excellent antidote to worrying about your freakin’ age.

Blogging, on the other hand, is all I, I, and more I—which is fine. It’s what we want from reading a blog—to experience the I writing the blog. It’s the heart and soul of good blogging. But, as I attempt to disengage from ego-consciousness, I wonder if the first-person requirement of blog writing will complicate my efforts.

Well, I won’t find out without trying.

2004-03-20T15:24:00.000-08:00

Blogrolls of Distinction

My latest perusal of Technorati reveals the fact that I’m on the blogroll—along with a number of blogs of distinction, I’m proud to add--of a new blog with the discreetly subtle title of “DickCheneyIsABitch.”

If you want to get your anti-Cheney rocks off, this is a good place to visit--a focused niche blog that stays tightly on purpose. The author goes by the nom-de-blog of “Amitaba.” I looked it up, and it seems that Amitaba is one of the five transcendental Buddhas, specifically the Symbol of Self-Realization.

OK. Gracias, Amitaba! My humble blog is now simultaneously associated with Cheney-trashing and Self-Realization. I proudly accept the linkage.

2004-03-19T18:50:00.000-08:00

Hero In the Family

Can this blog be revived? It’s an open and unresolved question. But when a dear relative gets labeled a “folk hero” in the local press, that will jolt anyone possessing a drop of blogger’s blood to get back on the keyboard and crank out a post.

Brother-in-law Bob Blackman, a family treasure and Holiday Supplier of untold quantities of quality gift music over the years, is celebrating the twentieth anniversary of his folk-music show on Michigan Public Radio.

The Lansing State Journal has a nice article about it and honors him with the folk hero label in its headline.

Bob knows everything there is to know about the subject, and it’s great to see him get the recognition he deserves with a special concert being given tonight in his honor.

Wish I could be there, bro! It’s an honor to have you in the family.

2004-02-26T16:18:00.000-08:00

Minimum Conversational Requirement

Frank Paynter, responding to my comment, writes the following:

"Dennis... he's hanging in there with good intentions. Too bad Dean and Clark turned out to be quitters. We need the rich conversation of a multi-candidate selection on the left."

Frank makes a good point. I agree that it's good that Dennis is still in there--and don't forget the good Reverend--there's your multi-candidate conversation right there--and they're a hell of a lot better at it than Dean or Clark. Two's enough.

I quite disagree with Frank about Dean and Clark. Do we really need them around anymore?

They failed as candidates, period. Many point the finger at the media, but imho, that's a copout. These two simply didn't have what it takes to play on the national stage and demonstrate confidence-inspiring ability for mounting viable opposition to the considerable force of Rove/Bush.

Dennis and Al, however, are out there as gadflies, and, indeed, great gadflies they are. They are doing a terrific job of providing needed contrarian perspectives.

Dean and Clark, on the other hand, were only providing embarrassment the longer they went on (which is not to deny, btw, that Dean's contribution--before the primaries actually got underway--was gigantic).

2004-02-25T20:30:00.000-08:00

No Equal

When George W strode to the lectern to make his announcement in support of banning same-sex marriage through a constitutional amendment, he did so in that revolting, fuck-you swagger of his. I turned away from the tube and observed to my wife:

“You know, honey, I can’t think of any American politician who’s ever filled me with the kind of revulsion I feel for this joker.”

There have been plenty of politicians of both parties to dislike over the span of my adult life, but none of them has come close to the total disgust I feel for this man.

“Not even Nixon or LBJ?” Jill asked.

No, actually not. These reviled prosecutors of the Vietnam War were outsize actors on the scene—Shakespearian types, if you will—fatally flawed—carrying around the heavy baggage of personal demons. Much as you hated what they were doing, you had to grudgingly respect their considerable intelligence—the quality that made them all the more tragic.

Georgie has none of this going for him—no redeeming qualities whatever except for having a nice wife on whom—unlike his predecessor—he doesn’t fuck around. Sorry, that’s not enough.

There are hopeful signs that the revulsion I feel is shared by increasing numbers of voters. Maybe the gay Republicans that Bush is losing will compensate for what that idiot Ralph Nader is going to drain away.

Unfortunately, with W’s $150 million war chest about to be unleashed, he’s going to have John Kerry looking like Leon Trotsky before it’s all over. Pray for a miracle.

2004-02-24T17:00:00.000-08:00

Two Years!

The weekend came and went without my even noticing that it was the second anniversary of the birth of this here blog!

Just goes to show the diminished state of my blogging consciousness these days. On my first anniversary last year, it was a big deal and I had tons of well-wishers. This year, I hardly have any readers left.

Well, there's nobody to blame but myself. When people have told you, after a half-dozen or so extended absences that it's good to have you back, they eventually give up when you disappear yet again.

I do really enjoy writing these blog posts--even though they don't get the response they used to--so I'm not ready to give it up just yet. I'll try to keep plugging along. Many thanks to those who still drop by. And to those who used to but don't anymore, it was very flattering to have you here for whatever period you chose to be here. It's been a special part of my life.

Year three, here I come!

2004-02-24T16:45:00.000-08:00

A Blogger Returns

Stanton Finley has settled into his new digs and new job to the point where he feels he can begin blogging again--after far too long an absence. It's good to have him back.

With spring just around the corner, Stan, we'll be expecting a new round of those exquisite floral pics, not to mention some poetry too.

2004-02-23T19:11:00.000-08:00

The Gospel According To Ebert and Roeper

Ebert and Roeper are almost gospel to me when it comes to film criticism. I find myself in agreement with them about 95% of the time. So it was with the utmost interest that I listened carefully to their review last night of the much-argued Mel Gibson flick, "The Passion of the Christ."

With my wife's Judaism together with my Unitarian-like leanings and long, long-ago lapsed Christian beliefs, Gibson's coming movie is a hot-potato subject around here.

Everybody's been putting the flick down before the movie has even appeared. This makes me somewhat uncomfortable, even though I fully accept the Jewish anger and mistrust surrounding this event.

Anyway, Roger and Richard gave the flick two thumbs "way up." They said it was a brilliant and powerful piece of cinema. They also were quite clear in stating that the anti-Semitic rap is completely undeserved. I won't bother to go into their argument. It's rather lengthy and complex. You can catch it at their website.

I am now, much to my surprise, somewhat tempted to go see it. I'd like to judge it for myself and be able to form my own opinion.

Jill says, "I don't care how good it is, or how non-anti-Semitic it is. I won't go. I won't support anything that fundamentalist asshole Gibson does."

She never liked Gibson in the first place. "Braveheart," for example, was one of our major disagreements on a film. I thought it was brilliant., but Gibson just gives her the willies. This new film, for her, is just throwing fuel on the fire.

Still, I may not go. Gibson's in-your-face evangelicalism does indeed give me pause. But it also gives me pause to rule out any artistic endeavor simply because I happen not to like the views of the artist. Such knee-jerk rejectionism can be a slippery slope. I'm truly conflicted about whether or not to be a paying customer to this movie.

On reflection, I think I know what's really bothering me. Because I so detest the way that evangelicals have injected their religious fanaticism into our political life, I'm leery of this flick because I have the fear that it's just going to inflame the righteousness of these people--during a crucial election year.

That's what's actually giving me the willies--not Mel Gibson--who happens to be an excellent filmmaker--whatever his beliefs. I'm going to have to sleep on this for a while.

2004-02-23T16:48:00.000-08:00

To Sex With Love

I’m probably the umpteen-millionth blogger to bid his or her farewell to Sex and The City. In case you’ve been sequestered in a spider-hole lately, and just emerged, I’ll inform you that last night was the long-dreaded finale of this spectacular comedy series.

As it turned out, there was nothing to dread. The show was beautifully done and ended on just the right notes: love, commitment, optimism. Isn’t it interesting that this series, whose female leads scandalized many upright citizens with their risqué, male-sounding, locker-room conversations about sex, gradually transmuted from multiple-partner sexcapades to love, family, and commitment? Of course, the holier-than-thou folks will likely have missed out on that.

It was all accomplished without a whiff of sentimentality or the slightest loss of its comedic edge. Huzzahs to the writers and cast. They enriched our Sunday nights for six memorable years.

If you don’t have HBO, I gotta tell ya, it’s totally worth the extra fifteen or sixteen bucks on your cable bill. That’s a bit under four bucks per Sunday--for drama and comedy that surpasses most anything you’re likely to catch at the theatre for a helluva lot more money.

Go on—get a hookup. There will be plenty of reruns.

2004-02-19T20:32:00.000-08:00

Trust The White Voter?

Dave Rogers and Syaffolee have taken some exception to my observations about the election. Dave points out that the voters in the early primary states of Iowa and New Hampshire are not representative of the nation as a whole. Sya reminds us that voters can "behave in lemming-like fashion," and that perhaps I shouldn't be so quick to trust them.

Well, both make a good point, but I still say that the primaries in these small states serve an important function. The candidates are subject to up-close scrutiny that isn't possible elsewhere.

Democrats are looking for the guy they think can best stand up to Bush. That means much more to them this year than all other considerations. It cuts across all demographics. Kerry has gone on to bigger, more diverse states and showed the same ability to inspire confidence as he did in the smaller states--even though, admittedly, the bandwagon effect does play a role to some extent.

But what's wrong with that? One of the most important things a campaign is about is building momentum. It's one of the fundamental abilities you have to be able to demonstrate. Do we want somebody who's mediocre at building momentum going up against the Bush juggernaut?

I still say we can trust the folks in the early primaries--even though some of them, as Sya asserts, vote for mindless reasons--and even though most of them, as Dave points out, were white. The blacks in South Carolina, Virginia, and Tennessee turned out in respectable numbers for Kerry. I really doubt that they're all lemmings.

Like their white brethren, they like what they see-- a tough, stand-up guy who isn't going to take any shit from our soon-to-be-retired President.

2004-02-18T22:15:00.000-08:00

The System Worked

I note that in my blog post of January 16, written just before the Iowa primaries, I opined that only three people had a chance of beating Bush: Dean, Edwards, or Clark. So much for my prognosticating abilities. Having lived through other sudden shifts in political fortune over the years, I should have known that such predictions are foolhardy.

Anyway, I hope the young folks that Dean brought into political activism don't get too discouraged and abandon their involvement. My fear is that they're going to blame the system instead of the reality of politics.

The system actually worked the way it's supposed to. The presidential election process starts in the small states of Iowa and New Hampshire for a very good reason: it tests the candidates by putting them in a situation where they have to get up close to the voters--thus giving the voters their chance to take an informed measure of the candidate.

Dean may have had a brilliant internet campaign and raised millions of dollars, but when the true test came, i.e., getting up in front of actual voters, he didn't show them what they wanted to see--someone they could feel confident about--someone they could count on to withstand the Bush onslaught that we all know is going to be unleashed in terrifying force.

The Deaniacs are blaming the media for being too hard on their guy, but the media punching that Dean had to face in these contests was nothing compared to what's ahead. If he couldn't withstand the initial blast, how in the hell could we count on him to not get crushed in the real slugfest come this fall?

The voters of Iowa and New Hampshire were clearly asking themselves the same question. I trust these good folks. They are salt-of-the-earth types. They have spoken, and I have no reason whatsoever to question their judgment. Now, Let's get on with the job of getting our country back.

2004-02-18T20:24:00.000-08:00

Blogging For Change

Thanks to Jordon Cooper for the pointer to the new blog, Change For America, from Joe Trippi, chief architect of the Dean campaign. I'm so glad Joe didn't just slip away quietly and sulk somewhere after being squeezed out of Dean's sinking ship. I'm so glad he isn't nursing any sour grapes and is going to continue to be an important voice in the crucial--and now hopeful--effort to rid our nation of the terrible scourge of the Bushies.

Check it out.

2004-02-16T17:51:00.000-08:00

The Curse Lives!

Condolences to Halley and all Red Sox fans everywhere. The curse of the Bambino continues to haunt. I'm referring to the the shocking and sudden news that the hated Yankees have managed to acquire Alex Rodriguez. The Red Sox could have had him, but blew it. This must hurt like hell, but I guess the Bostonians are used to it.

The lack of a salary cap is ruining the once-great game of baseball. It's outrageous that the fat-cat Yankees can just go out and, at will, buy up the best talent in baseball. Who would have thought that we'd see A-Rod and Jeter both in pinstripes? And they've picked up Gary Sheffield to boot. That means that eight of their nine starters are now current or former All Stars. This is absurd.

The only hope is that the Yankees' pitching collapses, and that that travesty-of-a-Commissioner Bud Selig returns to selling cars where he belongs.

2004-02-15T22:55:00.000-08:00

Transitional Meditation

Once again, I’ve pulled a month without posting—although this time it was unintentional. I could go on at length about the reasons for it—my latest round of struggles with blogging, as it were. But one of my New Years’ resolutions (remember them?) was to quit blogging about blogging. .

I’ve been preoccupied with other priorities, and I’m the type of person who has a hard time focusing on more than one project at a time. End of story.

What’s not end-of-story are my aches and pains. They seem to have taken a turn for the worse since the start of the new year, and to have become more omnipresent. I’m on the cusp of leaving my sixth decade behind (mathematical purists will point out that it’s actually seven--but never mind—when I say six, people know what I mean). The point is that I’m in danger of starting to buy into the numbers story by entertaining unhelpful, dark thoughts about what’s happening to my body, and what the next decade portends.

Ordinarily, when you start a new decade, you expect to be, do, and have more when it ends than when it began. But that’s only in effect up to a certain point. I’ve now reached that point in life where, for the first time, I’m facing the prospect of this customary ten-year expectation having expired. This is a frame of reference that I need to put into abeyance. It’s a daily wrestling match—one that threatens to bring my spirit crashing down if I don’t manage to create some new mindset in which to contain it.

One of the most vital lessons I’ve learned over these many years is that inspiration can come from truly anomalous, unexpected sources—if you keep yourself open to the possibility. A couple of days ago it was, of all things, an infomercial—some horseshit health product or other.

Per usual, I lunge for the remote to switch the channel when, at the last second, a testimonial begins which freezes my finger in mid-arc. Here’s this 80-year old surfer gliding onto the beach, nonchalantly throwing his surfboard over his shoulder, and striding triumphantly up to the camera. Probably an actor, but never mind, the words he begins uttering come straight into my space-of-listening like those old Bible cartoon books where the commands of the Almighty boom forth from the sky directly to the shaken, earth-bound figures below.

“I have a new outlook and it works!” he proclaims. “I don’t let myself worry anymore about my aches and pains and what they might signify. I just look at what I would enjoy doing and go out and do it. It’s like being a kid again except there’s no Mom saying no, or Dad saying it can’t be done.”

Of course, he attributes said new outlook to said horseshit health product, so now my finger completes its arc to the remote button. But the message of his words, carefully scripted, no doubt, lingers with me. It becomes a source of quasi-meditation that leads me to realize—and to accept, hopefully—that aches and pains are just the way it is, baby.

Welcome, Tom, to the new landscape. Get on with the business of living, or feel sorry for yourself. I’m beginning to learn that if my attention is on what I want to be doing instead of the aches and pains, guess what?--the object of focus is what predominates. I can have my aches and pains—and they don’t have to mean anything, or stand in the way of most things.

Not exactly the most profound of realizations, but it’s the kind of stuff about which you have to be hit on the side of the head from time to time. To close, I’ll allow myself one indulgence in blogging about blogging: blogging helps me make sense of my experience. That’s reason enough to not let myself quit.

2004-01-16T16:33:00.000-08:00

January Ramble

Time to get back into the blogging mindset—provided I can manage to jerk myself out of the blahs. Mid-January typically finds me functioning in a somewhat somnambulant state. In addition, I’ve yet to master the art of combining blogging with other pressing projects—of which several are staring me in the face.

Normally, I wait for some sort of inspiration to hit me. When there is none, like now, there comes a point when the only remedy is simply to put myself at the keyboard and start rambling until, hopefully, my blogging mojo eventually emerges from the scraps.

The tube is on in the background, and I hear a reporter who’s covering John Edwards say that Edwards’ theme song when he makes his stage entrances is John Mellencamp’s “Small Town.” Excellent choice. One more reason to like Edwards. This is a song that will definitely get you off your ass.

I take the cue and whip out my Mellencamp CD. A surge of energy—a stranger these January days--courses through the body, and here I am, fingers at the ready.

Speaking of John Edwards, I think he’s proven to be a terrific candidate. Assuming he won’t get the nomination, however, I hope to hell he’s offered and will accept the number two spot on the ticket.

I have only one yardstick for my choice to win the nomination—whoever can beat Bush. That’s it. I don't care what their policies are. Just get out there and do a good job of educating the American people about what a dangerous gang is running our country. Scare the hell out of them about giving these bastards another four years.

It’s looking to me like there are only three who stand a remote chance of accomplishing this: Dean, Clark, and Edwards. Dean scares me somewhat because, while he’s done a good job of arousing passion, his appeal may be limited to the 30% or so of the electorate like me who are rabidly anti-Bush. 45% are solid for Bush. That leaves 25% who could be persuaded one way or the other—and Clark or Edwards may be able to do a better job with this group.

In any case, I hope that two of these three guys end up on the ticket for the general election. If I were an Iowan right now, I frankly don’t know which one I’d cast my vote for. Those folks have a tough and important job ahead of them.

2004-01-16T16:24:00.000-08:00

More Ramble

A couple of interesting tidbits from my life this week. First, my wife was interviewed on the satellite radio network, Sirius, by Dr. Mike Riera on his show, "Family Talk". If you're curious and would like to hear Jill do her stuff, Riera's page has a link to the audio (right-had column--Tue.1-13). If you have school-age children, I recommend it. Jill's message is helping a lot of parents--especially those consumed with anxiety over their perceived inability to be "good enough" parents.

The producer spotted one of our ads and, interest piqued, issued an invitation. I say "our ad" with a touch of pride since I'm the one doing the marketing. Feedback from the show was gratifyingly positive. I'm becoming more confident that when we get this thing rolled out on CD (her seminar), it's going to go over very well. That would sure ease a lot of the budgetary strain that's been building up around here.

I'm sure many bloggers have experienced the phenomenon of someone from their distant past discovering their blog and initiating contact with them after an absence of many years. It's clearly one of the pleasures of maintaining a blog. This past week, an old college buddy sent me one of these missives, and it was a most welcome surprise.

It did have one downside, however. I Googled the guy's name to see if I could find anything on what he'd been up to. The results that were served suggested that he had become a prominent tax law guru. This came as a surprise because he had been a marketing guy when I last saw him.

"No," he writes back, "that's my son, Fred, Junior. He was on Capitol Hill for several years and than served in the first Bush Administration."

The first Bush Administration? Clunk. C'mon, for crissake--even given the fact that Fred, Senior is maybe a couple of years older than me, how could I possibly have a peer with a kid that was in the first Bush White House?

Totally out of my reality. All of my friends and I have only been empty-nesters for a mere handful of years. As I've noted in previous posts, I'm married to a Boomer and hang with a Boomer crowd. But sometimes my true age gets tossed unexpectedly in my face. I must confess, though, that general aches and pains are becoming more frequent--and unwelcome--reminders.

Finally, one other pleasant event during the week. Saw one hell of a good movie--"Gloomy Sunday"--a small German flick with little publicity. It was playing at that gem of a cinema house--the Rafael Film Center over in Marin County--a formerly and typically defunct downtown movie theatre that was artfully restored with a lot of financial help from George Lucas and other saviors.

The film takes place in Budapest in the 30's and 40's. Since the theatre is located in Maria Benet's neck of the woods, and since I think she's a former resident of Budapest, I would have liked to have invited her to join us, but we decided at the very last minute on the spur of the moment. Well, maybe next time, Maria.

Ok. End of ramble. Maybe now it won't take so long to get my next post up.

2004-01-07T19:03:00.000-08:00

Back To The Grind

Struggling to get back into the groove after the holidays. I’ve always found it to be a daunting period of adjustment. I’m so far behind on my favorite blogs, I think I’ll just have to forgo catching up.

I do want to thank those folks who commented to my previous post—written before Jill and I took off for a little vacation to celebrate our thirtieth anniversary. I appreciated your sentiments very much.

We had a great trip up until the last day. As we hit the highway to head home and began our ascent up the Eastern slope of the Sierra, there was what appeared to be a nice break in the weather. We considered ourselves particularly fortunate since there had been a howling storm the day before. But in the High Sierra, things can change in a flash.

We stopped for a bite to eat, and when we got back into the car, a brisk snowfall came out of nowhere. It quickly turned into a near-blizzard condition. It took us an hour and a half to go two miles. Fifty miles of mountain wilderness lay ahead.

“Screw this,” I proclaimed, and swung my car around, barely making it through the drifts in the center of the road. We decided to find a room, if we could, before they were all gone. We had to settle for a cheesy, drafty, thin-walled place that soaked us for a hundred bucks. I would have paid double that to get out of that storm and have a place to wait for it to blow over.

We were quite lucky on two other counts. It was impossible to walk anywhere, and we could have been screwed as far as being able to eat. But, miraculously, there was a Thai restaurant directly across the highway. Not a restaurant that would have a prayer of surviving in the Bay Area, mind you, but you can’t really screw up Thai food that badly. A crappy Thai meal beats a greasy spoon or fast food any day. The diversity of California culture and the ubiquity of its many ethnic groups does indeed have its blessings.

Our other stroke of fortune was that, despite the sleaziness of the motel, they had HBO on the tube. Amazing! And HBO was running an entire evening of back-to-back episodes of Larry David’s “Curb Your Enthusiasm” as a prelude to the beginning of its new season.

This made up for everything. There’s nobody like Larry David to make you forget your troubles. When we awoke early the next morning, the sun was shining. It took about twenty minutes to dig the car out and get underway, and we had to get chains. The speed limit for the long mountain run was 25 mph, but seven hours later, we got home in one piece--and in time to keep a dinner date at a great restaurant with two of our favorite friends—a fitting end to a good holiday.

2003-12-29T20:10:00.000-08:00

Thirty Great Years!

Tomorrow we head out to the mountains where a fresh pack of deep snow has just fallen. Then on to Nevada to ring in the New Year with our very special friend, Barbara.

Tomorrow marks our thirtieth year of marital togetherness. Thirty great years—thanks in large part to my wife’s infinite patience, her outsize spirit and sense of humor, and her strong bond of partnership and camaraderie. And, of course, her smarts. What a lucky guy I am!

We’ll spend the night in the Sierra foothills in the picturesque Gold Rush-era town of Nevada City. There are a number of beautiful old Victorian mansions there that have been converted into B & B’s. We’re splurging on a big room in one of them—four-poster, the whole bit. A perfect place to snuggle up on a wintry mountain night and sip a toast to our fortuitous bond.

For those of you who missed my post last year about our wedding day in 1973, here’s a link. I think you’ll get a kick out of it.

See you after New Year’s. Here’s wishing you all a great year—one that will include the end of the current terrorist regime in Washington!

2003-12-29T19:45:00.000-08:00

Viva Peter Jackson!

Went to Return of the King yesterday. We were going to go on Christmas Day, but due to the enormous length of the movie, it was logistically impossible to do it then. We got to the theater 45 minutes ahead of time, and the line was already half way around the block.

Well, good! This movie deserves a record-smashing box-office. If it doesn’t receive best picture and best director Oscars this year, then Hollywood should be burned to the ground.

Peter Jackson did an amazing job of putting this monumental movie together. He kept the many pieces moving seamlessly from one scene to the next. The staging, of course, was spectacular. The three and a half hour length seemed like a mere hour.

It’s not often you can call a movie breathtaking, but this one makes the grade.