I was in Vermont this past week

(written whilst internetless)

We ran into that 'Rambo' guy, he had one tooth and a bushy beard and a very sad story from 'nam - he had been told to stay in the tent that night and not go anywhere, but he disobeyed and went in search of a 'piece of tail'. When he came back - you know what's coming - everyone was gone, they had been attacked and killed (I feel bad for the gut reaction of wanting to go on Snopes to check out his story, but there you have it).

Today he was more interested in reminiscing about the spring day in 1968 when there was a big snow fall, so he ditched school to go snowmobiling. Spring of 1968 - the Prague Spring, the student uprisings in Paris, Vietnam, the White Album, and snowmobiling.

This was followed by a visit to the Vermont Country Store, a delightful place full of penny candy for eight hundred and ninety-five pennies a pound, practical and not so practical clothes, all sorts of gag type gifts (joy buzzer, butterfly that flies out of a book when opened, etc)
, and now a vibrator/kegel exerciser section. That and some great cheese, too. Across the street there's another store, where I bought some 'coffee soda' from a micro-soda-brewery in Vermont. It was kind of odd, I'm not sure I'd do it again. The woman behid the counter gave it a similar review.

I haven't had internet access all day, and haven't given a fuck about it. I guess I'll have to wait to see what sort of cleverness people are coming up with on Twitter and there's a hope in hell I'll read some books instead of RSS feeds. Fuck you Vint Cerf, fuck you Larry Page, fuck you Sergey Brin, and facebook guy, you rate an F and I'm not spending any more energy on you. I'd just as soon not go back. You hear me? I said I'm not going back. To the internet I mean. I wouldn't last a month here in rural Vermont. I have callous-free hands and thirty-seven years of avoiding physical type labor. Too late to kid myself about going 'off the grid'. I'd last a few hours, tops. People think Vermont is all lattes and liberals since that commercial with the old bitter constipated Republicans griping about Howard Dean, but it's not like that at all.

Recommending Free Stuff since we have that Recession going

I am recommending free stuff not only because of the Recession, but also because too much of human interaction (esp. on the internet) is about 'oh hey, I bought this'. 'You bought that? Cool'. 'I'm gonna buy this other thing.' As I type this on my MacBook Pro, I realize I'm as guilty of this as anyone.

The flip side (the Jedi side, the punk rock before 1991 side, the Jesus before Fallwell got into him side) of the Internet is that largely it is about free shit. Not just free music, but free (as in beer and in speech) software, like Linux and all the Gnu stuff and Firefox and this NodeBox thing I've been playing w/ lately, which is Mac-only (ha!). It embeds Python in a self-contained app you can use to experiment w/ generating 2D graphics and perhaps even simple games. Fun for the would be hyperformalists out there. Start with 2d, then make the leap to 3.

Freebie #2 comes to us from Brazil, and it's the Loronix blog. It took a beating at the hands of pranksters/hackers/the RIAA recently, but zecalouro's rebuilding it. It's a good place to hear music outside of the well-known Caetano Veloso/Gilberto Gil/Joao Gilberto/etc circle, as he makes available music that you could otherwise only hear if you know a Brazilian person with a record player and a good record collection.

Item #3 is the Podcast The Sound Of Young America at maximumfun.org. The name is a bit misleading as it's not a Youth Radio type deal where the oldest person involved in the production is still in high school (not that there's anything wrong with that - Youth Radio on WFHB is great), rather it's America's Radio Sweetheart Jesse Thorn interviewing a good mix of people I've heard of (Patton Oswalt, Upright Citizen's Brigade, Steven Wright, Colin Hay aka the singer from Men at Work, 2 guys from The Wire, etc) and people I had never heard of (The hosts of '7 second delay', Dan Deacon, etc) previously, but am glad that I now have. It is consistently good and hopefully Jesse achieves radio domination much like Ira Glass before him.

Items #4 and #5 are Frederator and its retro counterpart, re-Frederator.

Frederator hosts the series 'Meth Minute39' by animator Dan Meth, which has provided the world with such gems as 'Mike Tyson's Brunch-Out!', 'The Wang Warriors', and the classic mixture of real watermelon footage and unbelievably catchy music that is 'Watermelon Nights'. The weekly podcast compiles collections of cartoons by various artists, and is a mixed bag, but worth subscribing to for animation fans. If you are an eggplant, you wouldn't dig it, man.

Re-Frederator also puts out a podcast, this one focusing on very old cartoons, as in cartoons from the 30's and 40's. My daughter and I have bonded over the antics of Ub Iwerks' 'Flip The Frog' and have found that Little Lulu's 'Bargain Counter Attack' still works for 4-year-old girls in 2008, who have been brought up watching the likes of Dora, Bob The Builder, and the Backyardigans (who IMHO are far superior to Dora and Bob).

Re-Frederator doesn't whitewash (ha.) the past, and has featured old cartoons with stereotypes and attitudes from the 30s and 40s, including 'Plane Dumb' and 'Little Black Sambo'. These are interesting to watch now, although with people like Imus and Michael 'He's a N*****! He's a N******!' Richards running around, we probably can't look down on how it was in grandpa or great grandpa's day as much as we'd like. On the other hand, it is true they didn't have the Internet back then, and that really had to suck.

The End!

Be back hopefully in less than several weeks!

Curse you, Harper's Subscription Department, for making me think T.C. Boyle had died

While I like Harper's Magazine for their short readings at the beginning (there really should be whole magazines made up of these. They are like the internet, only if it only consisted of really interesting or bizarre stuff, inverting the real internet's 1/100000 interesting to tedious ratio), the Harper's Index, and the great essays and articles by many of my favorite writers, I do not like their subscription department, not at all. Especially after receiving a letter from them today with this message on the back in large print: "Goodbye: Kurt Vonneget, (somebody really old), (somebody really old), T.C. Boyle, (other stuff).

My first thought was, oh shit, T.C. Boyle died. I liked his books (Friend of the Earth, Tortilla Curtain, and Talk Talk recently). They put him in some weepy dead writer anthology. Then I opened the envelope and realized they were just trying to get me to renew. Shame on you for using these scare tactics, subscription people! What if T.C. Boyle's Mom gets this letter? Did you think about that? Try harder next time.

Effusive Python Fan Love Pt 1 - Some Early Impressions

Just as Morgan Spurlock conducted an experiment where he put his health at risk by eating nothing but McDonald's food for 30 days, in 2005 I started an experiment where I put my career and sanity at risk by taking a job focusing on the use of Microsoft products. As part of that misadventure, I did some scripting with VBScript, a horribly malformed abortion that was at one point the scripting language of choice for ASP, the Microsoft Web Framework before ASP.NET MVC (way to go Microsoft, innovating by putting that MVC thing Xerox PARC came up with in 1978 in a product in 2008), before ASP.NET 3, ASP.NET 2, and ASP.NET aka 'the last web framework you'll ever need to learn'.

VBScript is such an abomination even Microsoft is now posting articles advising the faithful as to how to convert from it to Powershell, but a better option is to choose a proper scripting language, like Python.

Calling Python a 'scripting language' seems wrong, with the negative connotations of dabbling and sloppy (or malicious) code tied to 'scripting'. It's one of the approved languages within Google, who also hired the creator, Guido van Rossum (he works on it 1/2 time). Iceland's CCP games use a variant called Stackless Python well-suited to concurrent programming for their massively-multiplayer online game, Eve Online. It's also used in Civilization IV. So it's not something limited to sysadmin 10-minute throwaway scripts in any way, shape or form.

I learned Python a couple of times (and then went off and did something else, forgetting what I learned) before returning to it recently as part of the big Microsoft backlash (although Microsoft have hired the IronPython guy to work for them, and are wanting to have Python available as a development option for Silverlight Development via their DLR (dynamic language runtime). Until recently, Perl was the go-to scripting language, because writing code in Perl was like talking to the computer and asking it to do something. It was that effortless. It was, yes, fun! I decided to give Python a go in the ongoing interest of staving off senility and general brain rot.

This meshed well with my recent purchase of a MacBook, because Python 2.5.1 is already there. This site appears to be a good resource for Mac Python people, and the author recommends building from the source and going from there, something I may do in the future, but everything seems fine for my needs now.

Editing-wise, I played around with a few different editors before opting to go with Komodo Edit, from ActiveState and free. I have had fewer woes with improper indentation with Komodo Edit than with some other editors I've tried, and it has the nifty auto-completion. Eclipse has a plug-in called pydev, but Java skeeves me out more often than not.

As to fun out-of-the-box things I've noticed with Python, number one for instant gratification is the interactive interpreter. If you're unsure what a snippet of code will do, you just type python and are popped into an interpreter, which you can feed lines of code interactively and see what happens. It is part of the speedy development aspect of Python. Not only is the compile cycle gone, you get instant turn-around for little snippets or ideas.

Another nifty thing is easy_install. A killer feature of Perl is CPAN, a central repository for modules people have created, containing code they've written to solve problems lots of other people will likely need to solve, removing the need for wheel re-invention. While it's not quite at the level of CPAN, the Python Package Index is handy, and easy_install is great, because if for example you read an article about BeautifulSoup, the Python module to parse possibly poorly structured HTML (in other words, 99% of HTML occurring in the wild), you would type:

>easy_install BeautifulSoup

...and away you go.

So far I can report programming with Python IS fun, so apparently I don't hate programming after all, just programming involving the use of Microsoft products or overly cumbersome Java frameworks with xml configuration files from hell. Java pretty much evolved from 'cool new thing' to 'your father's Oldmobile' right before my eyes, and nowadaze so much Java development is outsourced/offshored/rightshored/whateverthefucktheycallitnow anyway I don't recommend it much for Americans, especially young Americans. At any rate I'd rather use a language as a means to an end rather than an end in itself, and Python fits that role nicely.

Predatory Lenders Preying On The Fundies

One of my recent obsessions is information visualization. Working in IT, yes, I'm intimately familiar with the 'an ocean of water, but not a drop to drink' phenomenon - millions of dollars of big iron type servers (or the Fisher-Price Dell variants) capturing gigabytes, terabytes, petabytes of data which can not then be pulled out in any meaningful way (except for the bytes making up employees' music and movie collections). 'Write-only' systems like SAP come to mind (tho we don't use SAP). Apparently nobody cares, long as they get their emails.

Anyhow, I stumbled on this: The Surprising Correlation Between Payday Lenders and Conservative Christians. As with all data, even data rendered in a visualized, ready-for-human-consumption format, this really raises questions and starts the discussion more than it really provides a pat answer.

Does this mean:

• Christians are taking out tons of loans because they believe the Rapture is imminent (in case of Rapture, this loan will go into default)?
• The more extreme, blood-and-fire-and-brimstone forms of Christianity appeal to the poverty-stricken and disenfranchised, the way fundamentalist Islam appeals to the poor in undeveloped countries?
• Fundamentalists, their minds clouded by pseudo-scientific flim-flam and hokum from Answers in Genesis, are prone to make bad financial decisions?
• The secular corporations, working hand-in-hand with the liberal media, are oppressing Fundies and denying them the cushy, high-paying jobs?

The author of the article has his own interpretation:

here's what I suspect may be part of the story: in the 1980s and continuing perhaps even stronger in the 1990s, I think it's fair to say that the Christian right and conservative Christians came to align themselves with conservative Wall Street big-business interests, and that's been effective for pushing a variety of issues that are important to social-values conservatives, such as the abortion debate, some sorts of family questions and perhaps gun rights—those types of things. But consumer protection law and the limits on usurious moneylending have been an inconvenient sticking point in that political alliance, and I think therefore has been put to the side. As that alliance has continued to dominate politics in these areas, the laws that protected people from usurious moneylenders in those states have fallen into atrophy.

Having recently read Thomas Frank's What's The Matter With Kansas, a book exploring the suicidal voting patterns of Kansans, it does seem plausible. Sometimes voting against your own interests means voting for people who want to send your job somewhere else, other times it means voting for something the Bible condemns (usury). Islamic banking regulations prohibit usury, so this is a hypocrisy they seem to have steered clear of better than their fundamentalist Christian counterparts.

I'll talk more about my wonderful MacBook and how it blows away the pitiful Windows alternatives, including that sorry excuse for a computer company, Dell, some other time. As the rave-era bumper sticker cautioned, I need to 'wait 6 months'. Right now after buying my Mac, I am like somebody who's just starting on Ecstasy and am loving the whole world (except Microsoft). So I need to let things level out a bit, so I can be more objective.

With My Purchase of a MacBook I Achieve Compliance with all the White Liberal Stereotypes

I have bitched and moaned here of late about the misfortunes and indignities I have suffered as a PC user and general user of Microsoft products. Raised in the somewhat cryptic and academic UNIX world, I have been looking down at Microsoft the company, their products, and their users for years (but, as a practical type, I've used the products anyway rather than be that insufferable asshole at the office who insists on doing everything his way). A couple of years ago, with XP and a new job involving the use of Microsoft products (SQL Server) and technologies (.NET, Visual Studio, Sharepoint), I decided to give them a chance.

A few years into the experience, I can say that the suspicions I had about the general shakiness of their products and the pain involved with their use were pretty well-founded. Vista was the last nail in the coffin, the straw breaking the camel's back, etc. and so on. Except for Toolio Iglesias at work who's incapable of finding fault with anything Microsoft does, NOBODY I know has good things to say about Vista, aside from vague statements about it being 'pretty'.

My non-Vista experiences confirm the general suckitude. I currently have a Dell laptop as my work machine, and using it is slightly better than a sharp stick in the eye. It is slow. It takes what seems like hours to boot up, and does that thing where it fakes me out and shows the screen after a minute to 'fool' me into thinking it booted quickly. It crashes frequently. It decides not to work when I'm minutes away from giving a presentation in spite of hours spent pre-presentation going through test-runs and trying to anticipate all the ways it will fail. It is big and ugly, like a Trabant. I could go on, but everybody has their gripes on this topic.

Anyhow I tend to be slow to go from deciding to do something to taking action, but I did finally order my MacBook. It was a thing of beauty, and tho it is still awkward at times because I'm not used to the 'Mac Way', I'm happy. It boots quickly, it works fine, it runs the software I need it to run. It's even built upon a Unix foundation, so if I want to go all old school with the command line, I pop up a terminal.

Python is there, Perl is there, Ruby is there. Microsoft has reinvented the scripting wheel with some laughable product called 'PowerShell', which used to be called 'Monad' (of course, Microsoft is always changing the names of things). If I had done a lot of scripting with VBScript (I've done enough to never want to do it again) and I was too fucking stupid to realize Windows versions of Perl and Python have been around for years, I guess I'd be all jazzed about PowerShell. As is, it's just another article to skip when I get one of those free publications from Microsoft. Of course, AppleScript is kind of pointless, too, but it's been around for years, and you don't want to piss off people who've been with you since way back.

Apache is there, SQLite is there for your lightweight database needs. All this, and it's pretty.

I am well on my way to becoming a snotty Mac User. I realized the larger significance of this development today when I stumbled on the blog 'Stuff White People Like'. There it is, #40: Apple Products:

White people also need iPods, iPhones, Apple TV, AirPort Express stations, and anything else that Apple will produce. Because you need to express your uniqueness by purchasing everything that a publicly traded company produces.

Apple products also come with stickers. Some people put them on their computer, some people put them on windows, but to take it to the pinnacle of whiteness, you need to put the Apple sticker in the rear window of your Prius, Jetta, BMW, Subaru 4WD Station Wagon or Audi. You then need to drive to a local coffee shop (Starbucks will do in a pinch) and set up your apple for the world to see. Thankfully, the Apple logo on the back will light up! So even in a dark place, people can see how unique and creative you (and the five other people doing the exact same thing) truly are!

My Prius is on the list (#60)

Some white people decide to pull the ultimate move. Prius, Apple Sticker on the back, iPod rocking, and Democratic Candidate bumper sticker. Unstoppable!

As is Recycling (#66), Japan (#58), Living by the Water (#51), Irony (#50), Whole Foods and Grocery Co-ops (#48), Asian Fusion Food (#45), Public Radio (#44), Sushi (#42), Indie Music (#41), Marathons (#27), Coffee(#1) the list goes on and on. All stuff I like. I feel like a walking stereotype now. I still love my Mac, though.

They were better back when they sucked: my friend the teacher learns to teach

The subject of this story was born to be a teacher. He possesses all the essential character traits of a good teacher - he's extroverted, he's intelligent, he's confident but not arrogant, he's great with kids. By all accounts, today he is a wonderful middle-school science teacher, but it's oddly comforting to remember that his start was not so smooth.

I witnessed (and video-taped) his first ever attempt at teaching. It was actually a rehearsal for a physics lab for elementary education teachers he was to run solo, without a professor in attendance. It was notable because the word 'OK' was used every 3rd word or so. The tape has since been destroyed.

My friend also aspired to inspire the youth outside of the classroom. He taught Sunday School. He taught swimming lessons in the summer, in his big brother's backyard pool. He was a camp counselor. He was, without any question, going to succeed at growing up to be what he wanted to be when he grew up (I would not, but was blissfully ignorant of it).

The two of us lived in a house owned by a Physics professor, along with several other students, all male, all science or math majors, all tall, most blond. All of this was purely coincidental. We could have just as easily been tiny female dance majors. This was a pure fluke, the kind of thing that happens randomly in nature.

Our next door neighbor was a woman in her 70's, and we became friendly with her, or, more accurately, my friend, who loves people in general, became friendly with her, and I became friends with her as a result of tagging along with our mutual friend. She told us stories about her daughter, a wild child who had run away to play the flute with Alice Cooper's touring band. My friend accepted the idea that Alice Cooper would have taken a flautist on tour with him. I was skeptical, but steered clear of confrontation. Wild child got mixed up with some guy and the two of them started a fake religion together out west. Eventually the guy's drug use got out of hand, so she ended up running back to and marrying some sorry schlub who'd been infatuated with her since his teenage years and was now working for an insurance company in the L.A. area. In this case as in every other case I've witnessed, when a nerdy dude gets to marry his infatuation object 20 years after first developing an obsession, it is not a happy ending. It ends up being an unstable situation with a grotesque, unresolvable power asymmetry, as laughable and ugly a compromise as any physics nut who wanted to understand the mysteries of the universe but instead ended up designing bombs that would kill people without damaging property. Nobody's fooling anybody.

One summer wild child visited us, and brought the then 10-year-old spawn of her relationship with the cross between Jim Morrisson and Jim Jones. She represented southern California with all the necessary stereotypical attributes in place: blond hair, vapid California accent, the 'bringing culture to the rubes' condescension, the 'radio station that comes in and out' brain.

My friend saw in wild child's spawn yet another opportunity to practice his chosen craft. A little quick background is necessary: one of my friend's hobbies was buying junk from yard sales and re-selling it to antique stores for profit. This was in the pre-eBay days of the early '90s. We called him 'the Junk Man', but he made a fair amount of extra money at it.

Also around this time, H. Ross Perot's campaign to destroy George Bush I's re-election hopes was getting underway. My friend was enamored of Perot and the mythology around this self-made billionaire. A key story: as a child, Perot sold a pocket knife for several times what he paid for it, and this was how he discovered a love for making deals.

My friend thought it would be fun to give the California kid a knife and take him to an antique store, where he could see if he could get a good price for it. Before the trip, he asked the owner of the shop to play along, and let the kid 'talk him up' to $7.

This went over better than my friend could have ever hoped. The kid loved suckering the store owner out of $7 so much that as soon as he got back to Grandma's, he essentially turned the house upside down looking for things he could sell. He didn't find any Antique's Roadshow-worthy Civil War swords or the legendary 'Depression Glass', but he did stumble on some particularly embarassing poetry written by his mother, presumably on the Alice Cooper tour bus. The opening line of one poem: 'Babies are high all the time'. Having experienced living with a baby since then, I'm not sure I agree.

This was a classic lesson in unforeseen effects for both my friend and all witnesses. The California Kid never became a Perot-esque billionaire, but the skills he learned that summer were ones that would come in handy later in his career as a crackhead, when he'd ransack relatives' belongings for goods that could be exchanged for money.

The Main WTF moment from the Super Bowl for Me

The New York Giants' Super Bowl upset over the (until then, ha ha ha) undefeated New England Patriots had a lot of people saying WTF?!, but for me the WTF moment came after the game, when some dude (Terry Bradshaw?) presented winning QB and MVP Eli Manning with the keys to a HYBRID Escalade. Awesome, a HYBRID Escalade. It caused some cognitive dissonance for me and apparently for Manning, who unlike me, deals with such situations gracefully, said 'Thanks', and moved on.

Later I wondered: why stop at the HYBRID Escalade? Consider the possibilities:

"Congratulations Eli Manning! You've won the Super Bowl! Here are the keys to a HYBRID Escalade!"

Eli Manning: Thanks! I couldn't have done it without my teammates, you know...

"But there's more! Inside that Escalade, it's A YEAR SUPPLY OF KOOL MENTHOLS! KOOL MENTHOLS - the cigarettes with that minty fresh taste!"

Eli Manning: Uh, thanks, you know...

"And on every carton, there's a coupon good for one FREE HOUR at your local GOLD'S GYM!"

Eli Manning: That's great. You know, our fans have really been there....

"Your SuperBowl Fantasy isn't over! Drive your new HYBRID Escalade to your very own METH LAB!"

Eli Manning: What?!?

"It's SOLAR POWERED!"

Eli Manning: You know, we've been working for this all year, this is OUR moment, I question whether this...

"And if that doesn't satisfy your thirst for entrepreneurial adventures, wait till you see THE FACTORY IN INDONESIA WHERE ALL THE WORKERS ARE ORPHANS BELOW THE AGE OF 12"

Eli Manning: What is this? Guys, who's idea was....

"They make CRUELTY-FREE ARTIFICIAL LEATHER SHOES!"

Eli Manning: Security?!

Don't make my job harder - children's books with dubious messages

It's a generally accepted truism that 'reading to your child is a good thing'. It's up there with brushing your teeth, not taking candy from strangers (although even this can be dangerous), and not leaving your kid in the car on a hot day while you do the grocery shopping (or the animation work for Toy Story II (true story!)). The non-parent is likely tempted to draw the conclusion that this parenting thing, millions - actually billions - of people of sub-normal intelligence manage to do it somehow, it isn't rocket science.

The devil is in the details, as they say, and a parent who grabs books at random from the children's section in the library or book store may not be doing their kid any favors. Two books that recently featured as part of the nightly story hour illustrate this quite well.

Miss Honey's Busy Day is part of the 'Busy Day' series by Richard Scarry, who also brought us 'What Do People Do All Day?', something I still often wonder as an adult in the corporate world. While What Do People Do All Day promotes a healthy attitude toward the idea of work and the idea that different people do different jobs and they're all important and necessary, which kind of redeems the sexist attitudes and stereotypes to be found in the book (Mama earned the dress because she keeps the house clean!) it's much harder to recommend Miss Honey's Busy Day.

On the surface the book seems like a day-in-the-life story of one of those everyday heroes (and if, as an adult, you think that word has been drained dry of any meaning, wait till you catch an episode of the children's show 'Higglytown Heroes', where even the local Subway Sandwich Artist is celebrated as a hero), an elementary school teacher.

What's troubling about the book is Miss Honey's co-dependent relationship with Bruno, a slow-witted man-child live-in boyfriend who eats ice cream for EVERY MEAL. Miss Honey chides Bruno at breakfast about this, but he eats ice cream anyway. She calls him at lunchtime and again lectures him after finding out he's had ice cream for lunch. He promises he'll do better tomorrow, but we've seen the After-School specials and heard the Jane's Addiction songs, and we know when addicts talk about doing something tomorrow, it's total bullshit. Miss Honey surely knows this, too, yet she stays with Bruno. Later, she joins the children in the lunchroom and gives them a hypocritical lecture about the importance of choosing foods from different food groups. At the end of the story, Bruno surprises Miss Honey with a rose and dinner at...get this...the Ice Cream Parlor! Har har. Funny like a crack-head couple on The Wire, by which I mean, not funny at all. This book is guaranteed to be followed up with the parent spending easily twice to three times the time it took to read the book having a discussion to un-do the damage the book did. Of course, having honest discussions with your child about important matters is part of being a good parent.

The other book is the well-meaning (which, presumably, can be said of all children's books, except maybe the ones written by celebrities) Honey Bunny Funny Bunny. In this book, the Honey Bunny of the title endures all manner of teasing at the hands of her older brother, P.J., until P.J. goes too far and Mom and Dad finally come down on him. When P.J. stops teasing Honey Bunny, she becomes more and more despondent because, and this is the conclusion she draws, P.J. doesn't love her any more. There is a happy ending, though, as P.J. proves he does love Honey Bunny after all when he plays a big prank on her at the end. It's a happy ending as long as you don't think about the kind of abusive relationships Honey Bunny might end up being drawn into in the future. As a big brother, I was guilty of all manner of teasing in my youth, but can also clearly remember expressing affection in other ways, like hugging my sister or taking an interest in what she was doing, so perhaps I'm as bothered by the unfair and heavy-handed depiction of big brothers as by the questionable message for young girls.

So, in the end, the take away message here is that not all children's books are created equal, and just maybe your snobby friend who never lets their kid watch TV is unknowingly subjecting their youngster(s) to the kind of psychic damage an episode of Dragon Tales could never do.

Lu Pi's Rule

Lu Pi's rule is named after Lu Pi, who worked at the infamously corrupt Enron but cashed out before everything went to hell. At the time the film The Smartest Guys in The Room was made, he was not dead like Cliff Baxter (or, now, Ken Lay) or in jail like Jeff Skilling. He was the second-largest landowner in Colorado. Lu Pi has not cured cancer or come up with a Grand Unified Theory for Physics, or even figured out a way to make software suck less, but it's safe to say he's smarter than the titular Smartest Guys In The Room.

So Lu Pi's rule is: If you're the smartest guy in the room, in all likelihood it's because the smarter people have already left.

Quick Chicago Report, then let's get serious next time

I've been 'tweeting' over at twitter. Twitter's contribution to society is that posts are limited to 140 chars. Unfortunately, some see this as an invitation to post every 10 minutes. 'Leave a trail of genius', as the writing pad at the Marriott O'Hare said. It was perhaps one of the least intellectually stimulating places I have EVER been, but business folks do like the ego stroking.

Anyhow, I was not in Chicago proper, but Rosemont, a secretive suburb famous for the TV nation episode where Michael Moore set up a gate outside a gated neighborhood, so the gated neighborhood dwellers needed his approval to enter the outside world. I spent all my Rosemont time in the hotel or the neighboring office building, HQ of 'a major business intelligence company's Education Division. We were being trained on their product, and learned as much from the other students (m.b.i.c. horror stories) as we did from the instructor, who was a nice guy, even if his ringtone sounded like the theme from 'My Little Pony' (the melody did, I mean - it was some new-agey synthy instrumentation).

We ventured outside Rosemont to go to 'Paradise Pup', a hot-dog/hamburger place featuring '3-layer fries (cheese, spices, and bacon) for lunch one day, to take a $35 each way cab ride for Indian food in Schaumburg another day, and made 2 trips into the city.

One trip involved riding the el's 'Blue Line' to the Damen stop where I met some Bloomington ex-patriates and restaurant entrepreneur friends for a night of book-shopping at Quimby's, falafel at a place whose name I forget now, record shopping at Reckless Records, and cocktails at The Violet Hour. This last stop was research for the soon-to-be-open restaurant, which is going to feature cocktails. It has a speak-easy kind of hidden door, it is not an obvious door but rather a panel in the wall that you open, a good atmosphere inside (dark but you can see, music (Spoon's latest album that night) but you can talk, and amiable bartenders with DJ voices). I had the Winter Sazerac and Egg Nogg, yes Egg Nogg, and they were both very good. Other drinks consumed included the Winter Sidecar, the Chitown Flip (both also involving eggs), and some others whose names I can't remember. No Appletinis!

Reckless Records made me want to buy a functioning turntable, as they had an extensive record collection and I had the feeling I'd find things on vinyl there I would never find on CD. I still made out OK, scoring a Japanese import of the hard-to-find Gilberto Gil 1969 album that got him kicked out of Brazil by the military dictatorship (I have listened to it several times the past week), a Ron Carter (Miles Davis, plus he was on A Tribe Called Quest's 'Low End Theory') solo CD, and the 'Tropicalia' album that featured Os Mutantes, Gilberto Gil, Gal Costa, Tom Ze, and people I'm forgetting.

At Quimby's, I found some early installments of Anders Nilsen's 'Big Questions' series that I've been unable to find at the otherwise great Boxcar Books in Bloomington. This comic series involves a community of finches dealing first with an unexploded bomb, which some think has religious significance, a crashed jet fighter, which all think is a large dead bird, and a developmentally disabled boy wandering about aimlessly after his caretaker grandmother suddenly dies. Lots of laffs.

So all that went well, and the trip on the Blue Line was uneventful.

The other trip into Chicago involved taking the blue and then red line to China Town. We had been told by other Chicagoites to check out Penang there. The transfer to the red line was interesting. We had been warned to avoid the red and green lines, but I didn't listen. For the trip out, it was OK although very crowded and we were the token Indian guy and white guy in the crowd.

Penang was OK but not phenomenal. I had some sort of Malaysian spicy noodles involving shrimp, squid and crab, which I liked, and sashimi, which I also liked. My colleague had insufficiently hot Chili Chicken and stir fried rice. The next stop was the 'Signature Lounge' at the top of the John Hancock building, which we achieved via cab. A 30-second elevator ride got us there, where we enjoyed a spectacular view and drinks that cost more ($12) and were less impressive than the ones at the Violet Hour. However, there was the amazing view, which was essentially what we were paying for. Another cab ride got us back to the red line, now populated by loud individuals reminding me of Tyrone Biggums from the Chapelle Show, and some scary white girl with a completely blank expression running around asking people could she ask them a question. I kind of fumbled with words, eventually coming up with 'I don't know', and she said 'I guess that's no', and hustled somebody else for a couple bucks.

We rode back with I think a crack head couple that whooped it up for the 45 minutes or so the ride took. It was a different experience, but it's good to broaden your perspective a bit. Besides, now I can say that the TSA and the airline industry have made air travel a more annoying pain in the ass than riding the train with crackheads with some authority, because I've had the opportunity to compare; I'm not just exaggerating and making stuff up. Speaking of which, I am very tempted to wear a Speedo the next time I fly, and strip down to that at security just to be a smartass, but it will have to be for a non-work related trip. I will probably be detained for several hours and put on a no-fly list. If not the Speedo, I'll wear the unbearably corny Corona boxers.

The Official God F.A.Q.

No need to waste time reading the hundreds of Left Behind books, or even the Bible. The answers are all right here.

I kid the Left Behinders, yet find myself enjoying economic doomsayers like the Golden Jackass entirely too much (and what's not to love about the 1st generation Nintendo console animated donkey gif?). I understand the appeal of wanting the world to end soon, as apparently most conservative Christians do. If it turns out you don't get to live for all eternity after all, the obvious selfish reflex is to want everybody else in the Universe to die at the exact same time you do. Otherwise somebody might be getting a better deal than you.

Charlie Brown Specials made in the 90s Which Were Never Aired

Every year, the end of October marks the beginning of Charlie Brown special season. Starting with1966's 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown', the networks trot out both the well-known specials like the award-winning 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' and lesser-known specials like 'Lucy must be traded, Charlie Brown' and 'He's A Bully, Charlie Brown', which are used to pad out the one-hour time slots. Specials like the too tied to the 80's 'It's Flashbeagle, Charlie Brown' are no longer shown, for obvious reasons.

There were actually several specials created during the 90s which were never aired, for reasons we'll discuss here. An incomplete list follows.

He's A Troll, Charlie Brown (1994) - When Charlie Brown discovers the newsgroup alt.support.childhood-hairloss, he at first is encouraged to find a community of people who can relate to his problems without being judgemental. Things quickly turn sour with the appearance of a troll on the newsgroup who mocks the 'bald blockheads'.

Why it was shelved: not enough people in focus groups were aware of Usenet at the time. Further, it was feared that the special might encourage people to behave irresponsibly on the new medium of the Internet.

It's A Black Thing, Charlie Brown, You Wouldn't Understand It (1991) - There's a new kid in school, the afrocentric 'Joe Militant' (voice: Professor Griff of Public Enemy). Franklin moves out of his peripheral token role and is the focus of this episode, as his self-esteem is boosted greatly by the study of the history and culture of his people.

Why it was shelved: Although it was considered well-done, apparently nobody involved in the production was aware of Professor Griff's infamous comment that 'Jews are responsible for the majority of the wickedness in the world' until shortly before it was to be aired.

I Did Not Have Sexual Relations With That Woman, Charlie Brown (1998) - Peppermint Patty, who had resigned herself to being a D- student for the rest of her life, suddenly finds both her grades and outlook on life improved when a new teacher takes a special interest in her. But is the teacher interested in more than just her mind?

Why it was shelved: This special was not shelved so much for the subject matter, as several child psychologists who got a chance to see it agreed it dealt with a delicate subject in a careful and appropriate manner, but rather was a victim of bad timing as Bill Clinton uttered the now-famous phrase at the beginning of the Lewinsky scandal.

No Blood For Oil, Charlie Brown (1991) - The Persian Gulf War has everybody in the Peanuts gang taking sides, with Linus and Sally in favor of peace, and Lucy and Violet rallying to 'Support the Troops', but wishy-washy Charlie Brown can't make up his mind as to where he stands.

Why it was shelved: In stark contrast to Gulf War II, Gulf War I was over quickly, and by the time production was completed, America was back to 'Homey Don't Play That' and other frivolous concerns.

It Just Isn't Music, Charlie Brown (1993) - Inspired by Riot Grrrl bands like Bratmobile and Bikini Kill, Lucy, Violet, and the Little Red-Haired Girl (who is never shown, but is the drummer in the group) form their own band, Dog Germs. This sends Schroeder spiraling into depression and bitterness, as Dog Germs becomes very popular, but his hard work and dedication to Beethoven are ignored.

Why it was shelved: It was generally felt that this episode was too dark, even in the angst-and-depression soaked world of Charlie Brown.

You're Worth a Million on Paper, Charlie Brown (1999) - The whole gang gets rich beyond their wildest dreams when they join Lucy's Internet Start-up, coldHardCash.com, a 'cash portal' which nobody really understands or can explain. The fact that nobody knows any programming languages is not a problem, as Linus is very good at getting venture capitalists to put money behind the idea. Meanwhile, Snoopy day-trades his way to such wealth that he is able to afford a doghouse that actually does fly.

Why it was shelved: Nobody really asked Charles Schulz what he thought of this idea until very late in production. It is said that the usually peaceful and patient Schulz broke a hockey stick over Bill Melendez's head on hearing about a special that reduced his creations to 'soul-less, greedy, materialistic twits'.

There were many other specials like this, reminding us that for every fully-realized creative effort, there are thousands of scrapped or failed efforts. So the moral is of this posting is: stay in school.

2007: Favorite Shit and Least Favorite Shit

This is highly unorganized, as fits my current brain state. Has this ever happened to you? 'Brain Age' only for Nintendo DS. Train your brain in minutes a day!

Note, the shit mentioned within may not have been released or created in 2007, but rather was enjoyed or reviled in 2007.

Favorite Shit:

CD: Aesop Rock - None Shall Pass: I slept on Aes for far too long. I admit, I've listened to this a million times and still don't understand some of what he's saying, but he's got a gift for rhyme construction and a delivery that does the rhymes justice. El-P shows up a couple of times, and much as El-P has rhyming skills I'd rather hear him over one of Blockhead's beats (as on this album) than one of his solo gloom and doom beats.

CD: Oh No - Dr. No's Oxperiments: Madlib's little brother puts together instrumental hip-hop using psychadelic music from Turkey, India, and various other non US and UK locales.

CD: Os Mutantes Live at Barbicon 2006: Sergio and Arnaldo and a great band w/ Zelia Duncan filling in for Rita Lee, who apparently now is some sort of Oprah like figure in Brazil. It's nothing like the times I saw the Beach Boys with my parents in the 80s and just felt sad for everyone involved. This album is suffused with joy (except the Lucifer song).

CD: Madlib: Shades of Blue: re-mixes of jazz greats for people with short attention spans like myself. It actually did get me interested in the music of Andrew Hill and Horace Silver. Generally just extremely pleasant to listen too.

Film: No Country for Old Men: Depicts Texas as a bleak washed-out white trash hellhole, just like I always pictured it. The killer in the movie is an unforgettable character, extremely cold, yet someone Stephen Covey would probably
consider a Highly Effective Person

Food: Burritos at Laughing Planet: I hope this place stays around forever

Food: Esan Thai: Soon they'll have a liquor license, too

Food: Limestone Grill: Expensive, but that food is good. Chef Tad has mad skills in the kitchen.

Place: Limerick, Ireland: The IT industry is strong, Ireland is clearly doing well, the people there are great, and the natural beauty of the Cliffs of Moher is in easy driving distance.

Place: Reykjavik, Iceland: It's like no other place in the world. It's like the Moon. The Apollo guys even used it as a fill-in for the Moon. Also apparently the place rates highly for happy people.

Software: SQL Server 2005: The only Microsoft product I like anymore, except maybe Windows Server, which you obviously need to run this.

Software: ActiveState Python: Programming can be fun, without being reduced to some laughable VB-esque toy.

The Graphic Novels of Joe Sacco
The Graphic Novels of Chris Ware
The Graphic Novels of James Sturm
The Graphic Novel Section at the Monroe County Library

The Wonderlab - Aside from an occasional impedance mismatch in terms of what my daughter and I want to do there (for example, I maybe want to spend a lot longer at the table where you can create stop-motion animation than she does), this place is great fun for the youngsters.

Least Favorite Shit:

Dell Laptops - slow as fuck. clunky. stink of corporate genericity.

Dell Computers in General - I just see the logo and want to break something

Windows Technology Reality - a million possibilities for developers, but the admins will never let you roll it out b/c they don't have the staff to support it, or some bullshit like that. Choose LAMP, children! Choose the Amazon EC2 and S3 APIs!

Overhead paging systems - What the fuck is this, M*A*S*H? Only instead of just Radar O'Reilly, every asshole in the building with a voice, fingers, and a malignant sense of self-importance gets to get on the mic.

Arthritis - I really loved running, once.

Next time I remember which books I read this year.

WTF?!

I especially like how he rhymed 'djlfjlkjdslkjirt' with 'Run-DMC shirt'



Still processing this one.

Your One-Stop Shop for Responses to "Atheism is a religion"

I have stolen these from a thread over at Doc Bushwell's:

Atheism is a religion like not collecting stamps is a hobby.

Atheism is a religion the way off is a television channel.

Claiming that atheism is a religion is like claiming that not smoking crack is a form of drug addiction.

Atheism is a religion the way good health is a disease.

Claiming that atheism is a religion is like claiming that an empty glass is a drink.

Atheism is a religion the way not breathing is an alternative lifestyle.

Claiming that atheism is a religion is like claiming that baldness is a hairstyle.

and the best one, of course, is:

Atheism is a religion the way not eating is a kind of sandwich.

I wish all Teddy Bears were named Muhammad

Back in 2006, the world didn't know how to act when a firestorm erupted over some cartoons in a right-wing Danish newspaper. Currently, people are freaking out in Sudan because a teacher allowed her students to name a Teddy Bear Muhammad.



In a show of solidarity w/ Ms. Gibbons (the teacher in question), and because I haven't posted a greasemonkey script for a while, below you will find a greasemonkey script that gives EVERY TEDDY BEAR ON THE WWW the name Muhammed. Above, a screenshot illustrates that there is a big community of TBNM collectors on eBay.



Christians are welcome to use this script to name all teddy bears on the World Wide Web Jesus, Rastafarians may use it to name all teddy bears Jah, and Satanists may use it to name all teddy bears Satan. Jews may use it to name teddy bears Moses or Sandy Koufax, jazz fans can use it to name all teddy bears 'Trane, the possibilities are endless, really.



The script:

// ==UserScript==
// @name TBNM
// @namespace none
// @description gives all teddy bears on the WWW the name 'Mohammed'
// @include *
// @version 1.0
// @homepage redacted
// ==/UserScript==
(function() {
var bad = [], good = [], modifiers = [];
// START CONFIGURATION
populate({
// Terms are listed as comma separated couples of words, in the form
// "Censored Word": "replacement"
// [Place custom word list below]

"teddy bear(s?)(?! named M.hamm.d)":"Teddy Bear$1 Named Muhammad",

// [End of custom word list]
}, "gi");
// END CONFIGURATION (don't touch anything below, unless you know what you're doing...
function populate(replacements, flags) {
var word, modPos, mod;
for(var key in replacements) {
if((modPos = key.indexOf("/")) > -1) {
mod = key.substring(modPos + 1);
word = key.substring(0, modPos);
} else {
mod = "";
word = key;
}
modifiers.push(mod);
bad.push(new RegExp(word, flags));
good.push(replacements[key]);
}
}


// this function does the replacements
function sanitize(s, noContext, notredirect) {

for (var j = 0; j < s =" s.replace(bad[j]," title =" sanitize(document.title," textnodes =" document.evaluate(" i =" 0;" node =" textnodes.snapshotItem(i);" data =" sanitize(node.data,">

More about Greasemonkey

You have to use Firefox for this to work.  Sorry.

Chris Ware delivers more body-blows of depression

I read Jimmy Corrigan, The Smartest Kid on Earth a couple years ago, having seen excerpts in various cities' alternative weeklies. It was a thing of beauty, very well done, dense and deep, but also profoundly sad, being full of parental abandonment and alienation and so on. Somehow I soldiered through. Later I read Quimby The Mouse. What the fuck was going on with the cat's head the mouse wheeled around in the little wagon?

After that I just couldn't bear to read anything by Ware, because it was all so very, very sad. I had also encountered some of his 'doing this is miserable work, I hate it' material in a comic compilation (McSweeney's Issue 13) which put me off. It was not exactly Vince Neil griping about groupies and sub-par craft services table spreads, but still...you don't have to mentally re-live the placing of every slab by slaves to appreciate the pyramids ('they didn't have Alleve then...'). You don't have to almost die from heroin addiction and come back to enjoy the work of Iggy Pop. You don't have to personally get shot to pieces and then drown on Omaha Beach to enjoy a bar-b-q on Memorial Day. It's clear Ware has immense talent, and he's not laying about resting on his laurels, but forgive me for wanting more art and less artist in this case.

Later I encountered an essay he'd written about Frank King (Gasoline Alley) in a Drawn & Quarterly comp, which introduced a collection of King's strips that completely changed my view of what Gasoline Alley was all about (what it had been about was it was one of the old people strips I always skipped on the comics pages). It turns out Grampaw's comics were beautifully illustrated (these were Sunday strips, with the color) aimless celebrations of the world around us as it underwent great changes (the characters also underwent changes, as King allowed them to age, unlike the Family Circle kids who will keep on adorably fucking up the English language until Bil Keane gives up the ghost). Some of the strips were quite inventive and even experimental, as in a strip where the world is inverted and Skeezix lives below the surface of the lake. So, again, if you fall victim to assuming the old comics were all knuckle-dragging Bazooka Joe efforts, well, aren't you ignorant?

I felt I was ready to take on The ACME Novelty Library 'Report To Shareholders' a couple weeks ago, and I picked it up at the Monroe County Public Library, which has a really great graphic novel section. It sat on the table with the pile of books I'm currently not reading. Eventually I dove in.

Some have complained that it's very difficult to read, and it kind of is, as it's full of old style kid comic-book type ads with very small print, featuring headers like 'YOU CAN NOW MAKE MORE MONEY', 'Break into SURGERY', and 'Other Men have Read and Profited from this FREE Book About LUST'. Some pages have 10x the number of words you'd find on the page of a novel, PLUS all of the painstakingly drawn panels (and Ware doesn't miss the opportunity to point out that the comic book artist has to do 10x the work of a novelist, who can describe a scene with a few choice phrases). The thing is, nobody ever read those ads in the old comic books, so nothing's stopping the reader from plowing ahead, picking the eye-catching title here and there. Further, the densest page doesn't come close to some of the printing mayhem to be found in the novel 'House Of Leaves' (or, for that matter, the no-one has read this book, not even the author: 'Only Revolutions').

Jimmy Corrigan is in this book, as is a hapless wage-slave from the future, and Quimby, and the slow-witted and not-at-all-loved-by-Dad 'Big Tex', but the most engaging story line follows toy (mostly action figures) collectors Rusty Brown, his pushover friend Chalky White, who Rusty takes advantage of throughout the book, and the more minor character Putty Grey. Alert readers will spot Ware's 'COLLECTORS: A Guide', which describes general principles and the six basic types of collectors (among them: 'the Reparationist, who is in search of those items long ago thrown away, either by an irate parent or, sometimes, even oneself, in a regretted brusque urge toward speedy maturation').

Such collectors are, too be generous, not so well understood, and to not be generous, are despised as pathological examples of wildly misdirected obsessiveness. It would have been easy to have been repulsed by the characters, but I found myself very much drawn into their story. When Rusty, a middle-aged man living with his mother who mistreats what's probably his only friend discovers his mother threw away his collection of antique cereal boxes, I was surprised to find myself genuinely feeling sad, commiserating with him as he sat on his bed clutching his toy Kermit the Frog (reminding me of my childhood love of the Muppets, and of Jim Henson's death ).

Chalky gravitates toward church and family normalcy, and could easily have become a 2d caricature of the weird fear-driven herd patriotism following 9-11, but then there's his profound love for his daughter, Brittany (Oh my God, they named her Brittany), who's deep in teen angst, and drifting away. A particularly inspired strip shows Chalky writing one of those contemptible Christmas Family Update Letters while, in parallel, Brittany tearfully recounts the year's major developments in her diary. Sad, so very, very sad! (But also kind of funny.)

After reading the ACME Novelty Library, I read 'Pizzeria Kamikaze' by Israeli artists Etgar Keret and Asaf Hanuka. It's about an afterlife for suicides. It felt like light reading somehow, even though it was all black-and-white and about people running around with holes in their heads or, in the case of the suicide bomber bartender, parts of their faces missing. There's even a bit of an upbeat ending. Joy!

I am not sure what graphic novel I will take on next, but it might be a while before I can recover and go back to Ware's work (which I nonetheless recommend and hope he continues to put out, as painful as it is for him).

ChatterBlocker: A Great Idea if this was 1978

I read blogs like Lifehacker and others of their ilk, chock full of their Hints from Heloise, Bottom Line Personal hints for the not-yet-elderly.

I profoundly, deeply, viscerally hate the sound of workplace chatter. In Indianapolis, when I was outside at lunch or the beginning/ends of days, sometimes I'd hear a train braking, and it made an extended whining sound that it seemed would never end, and I'd think 'this is actually much better and more interesting than listening to my cube-neighbor on the phone with a salesweasel'. The biggest laugh from 'Office Space' for me: "CORPorate accounts payable, Nina speaking. JUST a MOment... CORPorate accounts payable, Nina speaking...etc" Workplace chatter may yet drive me to a Kaczynski Kabin in Montana.

So when I heard about ChatterBlocker, I was eager to give it a whirl. The idea behind ChatterBlocker is that it reduces the sound of workplace conversations using various forms of preferred noise: flowing water, chimes, bells, jumbled up voices.

Some companies make white-noise generators which are hardware solutions to the problem. There are also the noise-canceling headphones from Bose. I have a set, and they suck because they DON'T cancel out the sounds of people talking.

I downloaded it, and it sat on my computer for a couple weeks (I fail G'ing T's D). I finally tried it yesterday, first trying a pre-set involving water flowing. Instead of being relaxed, it made me tense, and it was hard to stay in my seat because I felt like a nearby toilet needed to have its handle jiggled.

Other presets featured male or female voices, saying random things. This one was disturbing because I have eavesdropping tendencies, which is part of the reason workplace chatter vexes me so. Hearing this jumbled, sliced and diced chatter, I couldn't help but try to extract meaning from it, only to fail and be frustrated.

Finally, an 'advanced' mode is like ACID: the early 90's ambient edition. The user can choose various soothing instruments and sounds (some plucked string instrument, bells, blocks clacking together, etc) and mix them together in search of the magic recipe for relaxation. It's a lot of work, going through all the permutations. Fortunately, a lot of people have been working on this problem going back at least to 1978, the year Brian Eno released Ambient One: Music for Airports. That airports are still profoundly miserable, noisy places (even the 'Admiral Lounge' areas can get overly crowded to the point where it takes a lot of complementary booze to cancel out a room-full of Junior Achievers on cell phones, and children failing to be entertained by the big-screen TV) is a testimonial to the ambition and audacity Eno must have had to have even taken on the project.

While I was conducting these experiments, my wife was in the other room, and she made some remark along the lines of 'WTF is that noise?'. On hearing what the fuck it was, she agreed that it somehow managed to create rather than relieve tension.

At this point I remembered actually I do have Aphex Twin's 'Selected Ambient Works Vol 2' on my iPod, along with several albums by The Orb (there's a new, 'deluxe' version of U.F. Orb out there now btw). So apparently what I need to do is group these tracks together as a playlist w/ iTunes, then listen to my iPod on the failing-to-cancel noise headphones (earbuds fail blocking out outside noise).

If an iPod and 90's ambient music is not at your disposal, you can always call in sick and work from home when the noise gets to be too much. Maybe a plumber can help you hack your toilet into a nice ambient noise generator. Good luck submitting that expense report.

For Sunday: A reading from the book of Miles Davis

Open your Autobiography of Miles Davis (with Quincy Troupe) to p 380, please, for 'The Dinner at The White House with Ronald Reagan and Ray Charles'.

At the table where I was sitting, a politician's wife said some silly shit about jazz, like 'Are we supporting the art form just because it's from here in this country, and is it art in it's truest form, or are we just being blase and ignoring jazz b/c it comes from here and not from Europe, and it comes from black people?'

This came from out of the blue. I don't like questions like that because they're just questions from someone who's trying to sound intelligent, when in fact they don't give a damn about it. I looked at her and said, 'What is it? Jazz time or something? Why you ask me some shit like that?'

So she said, 'Well, you're a jazz musician, aren't you?'

So I said, 'I'm a musician, that's all'.

'Well then, you're a musician, you play music...'

'Do you really want to knew why jazz music isn't given the credit in this country?'

She said, 'Yes, I do.'

'Jazz is ignored here b/c the white man likes to win everything. White people like to see other white people win just like you do and they can't win when it comes to jazz and the blues b/c black people created this. And so when we play in Europe, white people over there appreciate us b/c they know who did what and they will admit it, but most white Americans won't.'

She looked at me and turned all red and shit, and then she said 'Well, what have you done that's so important in your life? Why are you here?'

Now, I just hate shit like this coming from someone who is ignorant,but who wants to be hip and has forced you into a situation where you're talking to them in this manner. She brought this on herself. So then I said, 'Well, I've changed music 5 or 6 times, so I guess that's what I've done and I guess I don't believe in playing just white compositions.' I looked at her real cold and said, 'Now, tell me what have you done of any importance other than be white, and that ain't important to me, so tell me what your claim to fame is'.

She started to twitch and everything around her mouth. She couldn't even talk she was so mad. There was a silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. Here this woman was supposedly from the hippest echelons of society talking like a fool. Man, it was depressing.

Ray Charles was up there sitting with President Reagan, and the president was looking around to see how to act. I felt sorry for him. Reagan just looked embarassed.

Man, they should have written down something hip for him to say, but they ain't got nobody hip nowhere around him. Just a bunch of sorry motherfuckers with plastic smiles, acting all proper and shit.

A reading from the book of Miles.