Where C-SPAN is the local TV news
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| The Washington Canard Where C-SPAN is the local TV news |
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Thursday, July 29, 2004
THE CONTENTS OF MY MAILBOX Is there anything more mundane to blog about? Well, at the risk of imitating the (wildly popular) dullest blog in the world, here's what I got this afternoon:  SO I called the number, talked to a nice-sounding young woman who wanted to verify my name, age and address. Apparently I'd made some purchase recently -- possibly the Maxim subscription (yes, Maxim -- it came discounted with ESPN if all the pretty ladies wasn't a good enough reason) that still hasn't arrived -- that precipitated this sending. Am I over 20? Yes. Do I have a credit card? No. To get this four-hour adult video, plus subscriptions to Hustler and other magazines I have never heard of but don't sound quite my speed, will I pay just $4.95? Uh... no. "Okay, thanks." Click.
 THIS one's easy: Last weekend I gave a brief lecture at a publications school for college students, one I myself had attended a few years ago as an undergraduate magazine editor. I mostly shared anecdotes about stirring up trouble around campus under the guise of "earned media" -- i.e. free publicity. Apparently I did a good job, though the only question asked of me was by a UW student about what's up with Oregon basketball next year. (No more Lukes, but at least a Malik for a couple years. Even if we do have to stand the scrutiny extending from flying him in and out of Eugene on a private jet, we mid-level schools have to do things like that. Thanks, Phil!)
 I'VE never been to an IKEA, though I hear creepy things about their stores -- apparently you walk in line through the store, past every product, sort of like the "It's A Small World" ride at Disneyland, but without all the singing and dancing. (Of course -- IKEA is well-known for discouraging anthropomorphism.) But hey -- $5 wire wastebaskets! $59 lacquered banana-leaf rocking chairs! $129 corduroy swivel armchairs (with footstool)! Plenty of funny Swedish words with umlauts and less familiar diacritics! I do need furniture -- my television and stereo are still sitting on the boxes I moved in here with. I'll keep this one around.
So I guess it was a good mail day, and this turned nothing out like the aforementioned "dullest blog". (Actually, I'd nominate this as the real dullest blog.) Tomorrow there will probably be a few bills for me to throw in my desk drawer and forget about until my Internet mysteriously stops working next week. Monday, July 26, 2004
STEAL THIS POST Ana Marie Cox is getting drunk in Boston right now, and it seems she's turned over the reins to BoiFromTroy for the week. This is a big move for her, as he's fairly conservative. But he's also gay, so perhaps that evens it out. He also brings new credibility to Wonkette's ongoing (and likely affected) infatuation with "assfucking," although he's kept things fairly tame thus far. Anyway, I'd like to help pick up a bit of the slack. Teresa Heinz Kerry was on a special edition of Chris Matthews' "Hardball" last night, for an interview that included this exchange:
THK: "I won't let you." MATTHEWS: "What turns him on?" Saturday, July 24, 2004
FREAKY DEAKY Did you know I was a wrestler at the University of Oregon in 1984? That's what the Associated Press says. Now, I do recall having been a student journalist at that university about a decade and a half later. And I also remember reading about some Charles Whitman wannabe who shot up Autzen Stadium way back then. But this is just perplexing:
Brave Wrestler, World-Class Sprinter Shot Kent Walz, Associated Press EUGENE, Ore. University of Oregon wrestler Rick O'Shea thought the man wearing military fatigues and carrying rifles was joking when he barged into the weight room at Autzen Stadium and said he wanted to use the telephone. O'Shea said he and nine others in the room started taking the man more seriously when he ordered them to move to the room's upper level "or else I'll blow you away right here." The man turned and went out to the stadium, beginning a shooting spree that ended with former Olympic sprinter Chris S. Brathwaite shot to death, O'Shea, 22, wounded, and the gunman -- identified by police as Michael E. Feher, 19 -- dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. "The gun was real freaky," said wrestler Bill Beutler, one of those working out in the weight room. "It had a little laser beam on the end and the little light was jumping from person to person. He told everybody to get back. It was just business." "He had a straight, cold face," Beutler said. "The guy said, 'If I pull this trigger, it will tear you apart.' He looked like a shark or something. There was no emotion showing at all on his face." P.S. For those with the access, Nexising yourself can be just as fun as Googling oneself. Friday, July 23, 2004
THE FIRST TWINS  I'm afraid my pageviews will remain infinitessimal as long as I admit that I haven't seen Jenna and/or Barbara Bush around town. But when not riding Air Force One from swing state to swing state, they are here, usually in bars around Georgetown. And though I hit G-Town bars often enough, they probably aren't the same ones. (I stick closer to the Metro-accessible waterfront and avoid the ones with an invitation list.) But being roughly the same age as the presidential offspring, I take some interest in their coverage. Can I imagine being followed as closely as they are? Yes, and I bet the novelty wears off but fast.
This week TNR's Michael Crowley has a pretty good piece at Slate -- which didja hear? Microsoft is trying to unload -- about them. Before I start agreeing, I should note one bit I object to. After evaluating their known contrasts -- mainly their choice of universities -- Crowley writes:
It's a fun read, less about politics than culture -- and I'm one who thinks culture is one of Slate's strengths these days. Comparing them to presidential offspring, they seem to be doing better than most -- better probably at this point than their father and certainly better than Amy Carter, who had to drop out of Brown. No point here really, except to defend their "binge drinking," as Crowley carelessly calls it. (Trust me, I know binge drinking.) But if I do run into one or both of the notorious sistren around town, a "Famous for DC III" post won't be far behind. P.S. The timing of this post is fortuitous -- I almost forgot that the twins did an online chat at the Bush-Cheney campaign website this afternoon. The transcript is here. Based on what I've heard of their sporadic comments on politics and issues of the day, it's impossible to believe they wrote some of what was posted. I know they're campaigning for their dad on account of filial duty, and I would do the same, but some of this just can't be taken seriously. P.P.S. But don't get me wrong, it wasn't all scripted. Note their stated affinity for "Modest Mouse, The Strokes and Postal Service." These girls are all right in my book. Thursday, July 22, 2004
HISTORY IN THE MAKING In Virginia, the site of the first North American settlements by Europeans, history is being made every day. Or rather, remade. This past weekend, as I predicted last weekend, I and my mother and my sisters aged nine and five headed south first on Route 1 -- aka Jefferson Davis highway -- to see George Washington's plantation at Mount Vernon and then down I-95 to visit Colonial Williamsburg. Despite the presence of two mostly bored, nagging and unimpressed youngsters, I really did appreciate both stops. Herewith, a bullet-pointed recap of both visits:  Mount Vernon would be an awesome place to live -- okay, I would like electricity and an indoor toilet, but we're talking theoretical here. He was one, and they informed him that the hemp grown there had a very low THC count. You'd probably have to smoke a joint the size of a telephone pole to get high off his stash. Or maybe the size of one of the tree species Washington created. And those are all over the property. interest in was the tomb of George and Martha Washington. But her instincts were right -- the Washington family crypt is set against a low rising hill, hidden from the surrounds by short trees and manicured brush that damn well looked like the kind of place where I'd like to be buried.
Next up was Colonial Williamsburg, a few hundred miles down the road and for us a night's stay at the local Holiday Inn in between:  see out in the main village. It also bills itself as the "longest-running motion picture in history," or makes some such claim, though I somehow doubt Box Office Mojo bothers to count the take at Williamsburg.
 armory sense; a courthouse -- with both stocks and pillory for your S&M-influenced amusement; a jail, for the same; and a big town hall type place that originally burnt to the ground a century or two ago. Most of the buildings I mentioned are original, though. the one at right -- I'm pretty sure that's the guy who drove ours -- costs $80 bucks. My mother paid for it anyway; my sisters wouldn't shut up until she agreed to it. But after two days of endless walking all around DC with some walking about NoVA and southern Virgina (SoVA?), I could use the respite. I have the blisters to prove it.Look, I'm holding back a lot from my experiences at from both places. It's impossible to fully do them justice when I have to be at work at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning. But I hope you enjoyed. NOT A NEW BLOG! I tells ya, it took me too danged long to deduce the author of Lemming Meringue Pie. One day a few months back the link appeared without fanfare in FLOG™'s blogroll... uh, flogroll. Some early posts referred to Roger Daltrey -- was this Blog incognito? Others, to cooking recipes -- Phooeyhoo in disguise, perhaps? Here and there were posts about pets, something FLOG™ himself is wont to do. Then again, only I'm crazy enough to maintain multiple blogs plus a semi-daily news site. (Or maybe not.) My fourth guess was correct -- eventually the posts became less cryptic, and the truth became apparent. And, uh... yeah. Blogroll has been updated accordingly at right. Tuesday, July 20, 2004
GREAT SPAMS OF THE INTERNET Actually, file this under "not so great." Or even under "blasphemous":
To: [Me, obviously] Subject: Eliminate your bills the Christian way Today millions of Americans have more than $10,000 debt... and it's getting worse. Our network of Christian debt professionals at Christian Debt Removers will help you combine your bills into one low monthly payment (minimum $5,000 debt please). Let us help you live your life easier! We use sound debt elimination principles to help you: - Save up to 70% of your debt - Reduce or entirely eliminate interest rates & late fees - Eliminate creditor phone calls.. Monday, July 19, 2004
NEW BLOG! Sho, sometimes of the OC and sometimes of Wazeth, has a new site: Cuponoodles. Sho is Asian, you see -- Japanese in fact. What makes this delicious -- even more than the noodles -- is that my Nihongo is better than his! Or at least was. Mine has faded some in the two years since I left school (though I can still explain the difference between wa and ga!) and I haven't asked what studying he's done lately. But check out the site. Plenty of Sho-like goofiness and links to awesome music and video game related stuff sure to follow. P.S. Over at my other blog I noted the arrival of another recent blog, and I think I should do the same here: It's the Stumptown Lampoon. The author is Ted, and my Japanese is waaaaaay better than his. Over there, plenty of ruminations on horror flicks and war to keep you satisfied. Sunday, July 18, 2004
FAMOUS FOR DC II  I know I said no more posts for a few days. Well, a free moment availed itself. Call me a liar if you wish, but read this anyway:
On the way down to the White House on Saturday morning, myself and half of my immediate family passed by the St. Regis Hotel on 16th between H and I. (Also spelled "Eye" sometimes. No J street, you know -- I should explain that at some point). On the sidewalk near the main entrance stood a gaggle of people next to a waiting bus. As it was, trying to make your way down a city street with a nine-year-old and a five-year-old both trying to hold your hand with both having erratic and exceptionally un-useful ideas about which way to go at any given moment, was hard enough. But now to negotiate this crowd. We threaded our way through well enough for a moment until, confirming my worst fears, we were stopped in our tracks by a blank-faced Joe Klein, who had his arms spread wide as if imitating the famous Michael Jordan "Wings" poster, but with palms turned away from us. I stared back at him. Almost challenging him to move. We made eye contact: nothing there at all. I moved left -- no room. Right -- no room. Remaining devoid of any detectable human emotion, he finally shifted, raising his left arm and lowering his right in unison, just enough for us to keep going. And as we passed I finally understood Klein's expressionlessness: he was in the process of being meticulously wanded by a security professional for firearms or explosives. Now really, this is Joe freaking Klein, apotheosis of "famous for DC." A liberal one, too -- fat chance he'd be packing. Once a reporter for Newsweek, now a columnist for Time, a regular talking head on CNN as well as Chris Matthews' Sunday morning panel, just who is he going to kill when he gets on this bus or goes into this hotel? I would say his non-terrorist credentials are well-established. Oh sure, he might Anonymous-ly pen a satirical roman a clef about your campaign -- just ask Bill Clinton -- but he won't use that same writing instrument to gut you from stem to stern. So we ducked under Mr. Klein's sartorially exquisite left arm and continued the next block up to Lafayette Park and to "where the President lives!" (as one sister exclaimed) and off to other points around the District and Potomac River Basin, about which more later. Saturday, July 17, 2004
HI, ALL!  Could it get any slower around here? Yes, probably it could. And though this post breaks up this week's impressive string of non-posting, I can say with near certainty there will be no posts until early next week. My mother and two of my sisters are in the District for the weekend to see yours truly and some of the sights as well, while they're at it. The itinerary includes a trip to historic Williamsburg and possibly a stop at the home of our first President George, the equally historic Mount Vernon.
Meanwhile, at the risk of never following through, upcoming posts to this website -- maybe next week, maybe later (even much later) -- I will announce two upcoming topics I will address:
P.S. Certainty? Ha! This shows how reliable I am. But of course, regular readers -- are there any? -- already know this. Monday, July 12, 2004
I KNEW IT! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it:
Any idea that has gained such wide acceptance must have pretty deep scientific roots. Right? Wrong. Dr. Heinz Valtin, a Dartmouth University kidney specialist and authority on water balance, did what may be the most exhaustive study on the 8-by-8 [oz.] rule in 2003. It found no scientific basis for recommending 8 glasses of water a day. The rule did not emerge from any scientific research or any established knowledge about human water needs. There's no scientific proof that humans need 8 glasses of water each day. Nobody even knows for sure who cooked up the 8-by-8 rule. Believe it or not, I've tried to get into this habit more than once. Yet the primary obstacle is not being unale to stomach that much water -- I quite like a tall glass of cold agua -- it's that the water out here is terrible. So bad, I'm told that straight tap water will kill your houseplants. If I'm going to drink that much at home, I must be refilling my filtered Brita pitcher on a regular basis. Even at the office downtown, where the water seems to be filtered, it still has a funny aftertaste. Many people here buy bottled water by the SUV-load. With no SUV and no money to buy that much water, this is truly great news. Sunday, July 11, 2004
KWAME BROWN FOR CITY COUNCIL?! It's true: Kwame Brown is running for the Metro city council's At-Large seat. How does the 21-year-old Washington Wizards forward/center have time for local politics? Who knew he was interested in civic affairs at all? Am I being disingenuous? Yes, yes I am. This Kwame Brown is a businessman and DC native whose campaign website appears totally oblivious to the altogether disappointing former #1 draft pick who shares his name. Considering Kwame-the-baller's dismal-if-improving game, perhaps Kwame-the-pol is simply hoping no one will put two and two together? Good luck! Sunday, July 04, 2004
LIVE FROM THE WAR ZONE  Okay, well strike the previous hyperbole and get ready for something very different. The T-storms are gone and the weather is a bit more clement, so there will indeed be an Independence Day in Washington this year -- and it's all unfolding before me right now.
The neighborhood looks and sounds like a war zone. I am surrounded by smoke and that nitrate-y smell as people are setting off fountains, roman candles, bottle rockets, piccolo petes, old school M-80s and virtually anything combustible save for sparklers. The crowd is easily a thousand strong. Indeed if you let your eyes go out of focus, you'd think the streets were afire and the locals encamped as refugees on the hillside above town. Deployed as a peacekeeping force is the Metro PD; I count a dozen or so officers redirecting traffic and keeping watch. A small fleet of police cruisers block off the streets, and with their sirens silent and lights on the lowest setting, are ready to ferry exploding hand victims to the hospital.  And this is all before the official display on the Mall begins. It gets underway, and of course it's impressive, though one can now see there is one cloud hovering over downtown blocking about half of each spherical blast. I hesitate to downplay the sanctioned violence, because it sure does look cool. But the real action is in the streets.
Half a block to my left a well-armed cabal is competing for attention, flinging bursts of sparks perhaps 50 or 100 feet into the air at irregular intervals. Another brigade down in Dupont Circle appears to be doing the same. Some of these bursts are indistinguishable from images of tracers over Baghdad that CNN gave to us in early 1991. Adding to the martial scene, two marine helicopters pass above the crowd, doing what I'm not sure. Surveying the damage perhaps, but I would imagine they're just getting the best view possible. The battle rages on all sides.  When major combat operations over the Mall cease, the crowd dwindles to perhaps just a few hundred. A procession of cop cars -- I lost count near a dozen -- motor past my building, coming from where I'm not certain and going to where I have no clue. Those parked here earlier remain for the time being.
Meanwhile the unaffiliated teenage militias actually pick up their pace, no longer distracted by the more orderly presentation just ended. Boom! BOOM! Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-BOOM! We're still under siege here in Northwest Washington, and I'm in no hurry for the chaos to end. 
It's easy to joke about celebrating your country by blowing up a small part of it, especially when your previous settings for firework displays are tree-lined suburban neighborhoods. And of course, joke I do. But when you can see rockets propelled in Tomahawk trajectories and bursts of flame alighting above rooftops over this still-somewhat classical city, it's much easier to remember that a war which might have looked a lot like this one -- albeit lacking these purple, green and blue hues, not to mention the laughter and clapping -- is what this day is all about. Let's give it up for America, the Boom-iful. NOTE: If you can't make out any of the images included with this post, well, I've said before that my cell phone camera is all but useless. THERE WILL BE NO FOURTH OF JULY THIS YEAR Well, how about that: Thunder, lighting, rain, all together, in pairs and solo -- all afternoon. Some official events downtown were canceled. The rain has subsided in the past half hour, but I just heard another thunder clap roll across the sky, and tonight's forecast calls for more T-storms. The annual fireworks display on the mall is now highly tentative, and I'm not sure what's happening with the rooftop party I'd been planning on. But I think I can probably guess. Blog thinks he's having a crappy Independence Day because he's stuck at work. At this rate, I might as well be. P.S. From the web-only Washington Post story linked above:
UPDATE: The local Fox affiliate is reporting fireworks shows in College Park and somewhere else have been canceled or postponed. Doesn't sound good for D.C. UPDATE 2: The Washington Post seems to have moved the pictures off its servers later here in the evening, but apparently water was ankle-deep down on Constitution this afternoon. Like we need another reminder that this town was built on a swamp. Aren't the awful smell and partisan ugliness enough? RECALL MAYOR WILLIAMS That's the rallying cry of a campaign currently underway in the District right now. But since March it seems the extent of that campaign has been a number of signs posted around the U Street area, not to mention a website appropriately named recallmayorwilliams.com. For what transgressions should the bow-tied Tony Williams be booted from office? The website offers:
Also of note: The campaign's other tag line is "Save Our City." Who knew Jim Morrison had such a following here in the hometown of Duke Ellington and Dave Grohl? P.S. But for Washingtonians like me who enjoy corrupt politicians for all the bad press they generate and still rue the day Jim Traficant got hauled off to jail, there is a light at the end of the tunnel: Barry is running for a seat on the city council. The original meaning of that "tunnel" metaphor, which had the light being an oncoming train, does seem especially salient right about now... CONSIDERATE D.C. From a cardboard sign taped to the cyclone fence surrounding Cardozo High, about half a block down the hill from my apartment: YOU FORGOT TO TAKE THE REMOTE CONTROL [REMOTE CONTROL HELD IN PLACE WITH DUCT TAPE] [BIG SMILEY FACE] Have a nice day! So this is Washington, huh? Considerate Washington! ... to paraphrase a cranky punk rocker's complaint about my home state from nearly 20 years back. I saw this hours ago, so consider the reproduction above also possibly paraphrased. If it's still there tomorrow I may grab my cell phone and go take a low-res shot to post. Anyway, what's a car stereo need a remote for? Since talking on a cell phone while driving is now illegal in the District, what about remote controls? Maybe they're for backseat drivers who want to fight with those in the front over what CD to play? Friday, July 02, 2004
BOOOOO!!! This is the kind of thing that makes me think I should just give up blogging. At least until I manage to ditch my integrity. Oh, and become a chick. (I know how that's done, I just don't have the money. (Nor would I really be inclined to do so even if I did. (And even then, my chances for a book deal would still be pretty slim.))) Whatever. ADDENDUM TO YESTERDAY'S POST  It's almost exactly 24 hours since my last post, and right now one block over in the opposite direction who-knows-whom is/are firing off mortars. That is, the kind that produce small traditional flowery bursts (see left, but scale it back a bit) unless they turn out to be duds. (This is maybe 75% of the time.) According to this page, these fireworks are illegal in the District. But it's a Friday night, they're quieter than the ones I mentioned last night, and a hell of a lot cooler to look at. I'm certainly not calling the cops on this, and since they've been going on for almost half an hour now, it doesn't seem like anyone else will either. And this is in a neighborhood where the Metro PD patrol constantly. Call this an egregious case of lookism (even hearism), but you'll get no complaints from me. That is, unless one of those things misfires wildly and I get Moe Green-ed.
UPDATE: A bit more than an hour later and the fireworks have picked back up, maybe even stronger than before. And it's coming from all sides. Plus, one just did misfire a few minutes ago, crashing into a white sedan about a half-block away, exploding in pretty purple sparkles all over the roof. Can't tell any damage from here, but if I end up getting seriously hammered and stomp over to the 24-hour convenience mart in that direction for some late-night/early-morning fried chicken (a frequent trek) I'll post another update. Thursday, July 01, 2004
I AM OFFICIALLY LAME It won't be the Fourth of July for another 48 hours, but that hasn't stopped local miscreants from setting off incredibly loud fireworks in the neighborhood going on the last two weeks. Right now there's a grip of kids sitting outside one of the side doors of the high school across the street, unleashing pop!-POP!-pop!-POPP!-pop!-POPPP!! firecrackers. It's already past my advisable bedtime -- remember, wake-up for me is just before 5 o'clock in the a.m. I won't do it, but I admit the thought of calling the police crossed my mind. Maybe if they're still going strong in another hour or so. The sad thing is, less than two years ago I myself was just as inconsiderate and obnoxious as these kids are. Then again, two years ago I was living in a college town where I'd been even more obnoxious and inconsiderate a few years before that (those of you remembering the first edition of the Oregon Daily Emerald in November 1997 know exactly what I'm talking about). But if the subject line of this post wasn't true already then it sure is now. |
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