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As Dubya attempted to slam John Kerry during a speech today, the Doofus-in-Chief instead (inadvertently, one would assume) gave us two excellent reasons to vote for Kerry:
"When it comes to improving our economy and creating new jobs, results matter," Bush said. "When it comes to better securing our homeland and fighting the forces of terror, results matter."
Exactly. That's why your days on Pennsylvania Avenue are numbered.
Despite having much to say while following this week's Democratic Convention fairly closely in the print and online media, my time has been demanded elsewhere for the better part of the week. In a good way. Still, I'm frustrated by my unfortunately minimal ranting and raving time. And yet I'm undeniably (and hopefully not unrealistically) optimistic about the future of our country after listening to such insightful, inspiring and electrifying words from the mouths of some remarkable individuals. How different the world would be if our president were even half as thoughtful, articulate and respected as some of those working so diligently to oust him.
The Convention has provided a few surprises:
- Al Sharpton, someone I've never had much use for and generally considered the epitome of buffoonery, brought the damn house down. I was moved.
- Teresa Heinz Kerry, richer than Christ and something of a snob, but damn, she's got a fire under her ass that should be a requirement for every First Lady. We've had many intelligent, well-meaning First Ladies but she's more worldly and better educated. Yes, Laura Bush is pleasant and respectable, but what has she done in her years as First Lady besides praise her husband?
- Barack Obama was inspired and inspiring; one of the brightest political voices we've heard from in years. As
- Madeline Albright, the most fiercely intelligent and classiest woman ever to grace the U.S. government, made a thought-provoking speech, summing up the frustration of countless Americans (and people around the world) thus: "I have to tell you, as somebody who's been involved in foreign policy my whole life, this international situation is a mess -- that's a diplomatic term of art -- and it requires new leadership."
There's no better way to put it, is there?
Just returned from another excellent road trip, once again basking in the afterglow of Fahrfegnugen (how the fuck do you spell that, anyway?) and counting myself lucky after a pebble smashing into my windshield at 80mph managed to only crack and not completely decimate the windshield (and possibly, me). Instead it was a rather cool-looking battle scar that unfortunately needed to be replaced with a shiny new windshield.
One thing I've noticed as a frequent road-tripper is that, no matter where you choose to roam, there is simply no escaping two things: Jesus and Twang. Radio preachers manage to spew gospel to drivers traversing even the remotest, least-traveled roads of the nation; country music has nary a square mile of non-coverage (except, thankfully, in NYC). Good thing my trusty MP3 player saved me from both equally torturous forms of radio programming.
A few other things that crossed my mind this week:
1. The Go-Gos' Beauty and the Beat album is nearing 25 years old. As are John Lennon's Double Fantasy, The Police's Ghost in the Machine, Pat Benatar's Crimes of Passion, Depeche Mode's Speak and Spell, Oingo Boingo's Only a Lad, Duran Duran's self-titled debut and a host of other significant albums from my later elementary school days. 25 freakin' years.
2. One should not attempt to fiddle with MP3 player on windy mountain road unless one would prefer to drive off the edge than remain on said road.
3. The deaths of Jeff Buckley and Elliott Smith were both devastating blows to music, in very different ways. Jeff had the kind of voice that ripped your heart right out of your chest, regardless of whether or not his lyrics were meaningful to you. Elliott spoke directly to your heart and mind, gently nudging your emotions with painful lyrics awash in simple melodies. No matter how much time passes, each time I hear either of these incredible talents, I must take a minute to mourn their loss.
4. Bob Marley's "Jammin'" is often heard on classic rock stations. Why is this? Is it because rock DJs feel Marley deserves to be heard despite the lack of stations devoted to reggae? If that's the case, let's add a few disco tunes to the classic rock lineup since there are few disco stations and dammit, we still need our Earth, Wind & Fire!
5. Why do clueless DJs still insist on putting a "The" before "Counting Crows?" Aren't they trained in proper usage of bands' names? Don't they realize adding "the" completely changes the meaning of the name? "The Counting Crows" doesn't even make sense, for fuck's sake! Smashing Pumpkins recognized this as a losing battle, eventually adding "The" to their name, thereby selling themselves out and, in doing so, changing the meaning of their name entirely, saddling themselves with a pitifully less-cool moniker. Future Counting Crows albums should include a memo to brainless DJs: "Yo, morons, do you see a "The" before our name? No! So how about you don't fucking add one?," lest they go the way of Smashing Pumpkins and disband, the inevitable result of clueless people having trouble with your band's name (see Jefferson Airplane/Starship).
How many times a day do you find yourself using the words (either out loud or not) "I need?" I need to to take a shower, I need to buy toilet paper, have my teeth cleaned, do my taxes, remove the sock detritus from between my toes.
Whatever happened to "I want?" How did "I want" get lost in the endless, frustrating parade of "I need?" Needing is obviously more important, but if we really stop to think about the things we need, are they truly more significant than those we want? Or are we simply misusing the language?
I awoke this morning thinking, "You know, self, you really need to spend more time writing." Not here on my silly blog, but on the projects that have manifested themselves as sadly neglected little files stuffed in an eternally half-finished "Works in Progress" folder on my desktop. Are they really works in progress if progress is not being made? Or will I be forced to change the name of the folder to "Works Not Presently Progressing?"
The problem is not that I need to write. It's that I want to write. And, as we get older and different priorities and responsibilities present themselves, our wants naturally defer to our needs. But I'm determined to find ways to recognize my needs are not nearly as urgent as they may seem. There simply must be more room in our lives for our wants.
And so I'm attempting to change my thinking on this. For the next few months, as I settle into the tail-end of this transitionary phase and anticipate the next, I will make an effort to put my wants first. I want to write. I want to be brilliant and finish the projects I think could be brilliant and embrace the extreme satisfaction of finishing something because I want to, not because it needs finishing for an editor, a boss, a professor or anyone but myself.
One particular project I'm struggling with--though far more motivated to finish than others--is a profile of an individual who has recently entered my life and who is infinitely fascinating; the ideal subject of a piece that needs no fictionalizing to make a fantastic story. There is pressure on me for this one, not in the form of a deadline, but in the desire to please the subject with a completed piece. While the remainder of my personal projects have taken far better shape since my move to the quiet redwood coast and the introduction of less stress and more free hours in my day, that will change soon, as I embark on a different, slightly less enjoyable manner of writing--the kind that provides a paycheck. As I've grown highly capable of doing, I'll have to adapt. In this case, adapting to less free time will most likely (ironically enough) mean spending more time writing, since time is exponentially more valuable when we have less of it to ourselves.
Eventually I'd like (see, there's that want again) to post some of my written works on this site, along with some of the myriad photos I've taken of this gorgeous area I now, however temporarily, call my home.
Earlier this week, I had the distinct pleasure of hearing two musical artists I adore, Neil and Tim Finn, performing live on KCRW amidst dates on their first U.S. tour in eight years. Neil, the younger, headed one of my all-time favorite (and, sadly, defunct) bands, Crowded House, after first playing with his brother Tim in their eccentric early band, Split Enz. With their flawless harmonizing, the Finns won me over as a teenager and continue still to write meticulous, brightly melodic pop songs. Their mum must be so proud.
Had the duo made a tour stop here on the north coast, I'd have eaten my big toe to be in the audience, grinning dorkishly, soaking up every last note by their inimitable voices, all the more sweet since they tour together so rarely. As a matter of fact, their last tour together--in support of their 1996 debut as Finn Brothers--was significant for me, being the only time I've attended a concert alone. Just me, myself and I. Lacking a fellow fan to head to Hollywood's John Anson Ford Theatre with me for that particular show would not keep me from the Finns. I happily went solo, enjoyed a drink while chatting with fans around me in the cool air of the outdoor amphitheatre and breathed in a thoroughly magical evening of music that moved me intensely. That was me, leaping out of my seat with thunderous applause when Neil and Tim delved deep into their catalog of Crowded House and Split Enz tunes from waybackwhen.
It wasn't the first time I'd seen Neil and Tim perform together--that was when Tim joined Crowded House for the Woodface tour in 1991. One of the most intoxicating concerts I've ever attended (and not just for witnessing CH's famously zany drummer disrobe entirely and boldly prance across the stage). CH was simply a wonderful group and for me, hearing Neil and Tim sing so beautifully together is one of the true joys in life. As I'm known to declare, it's the little things.
That said, come August 24, I'll do something I rarely do these days: purchase a new CD in a record store. That's when Neil & Tim's latest--Everyone Is Here--is released stateside. The first single is haunting in recorded form and the live radio performance gave me goosebumps, something only music can do.
Much to my dismay, I've been too busy these days to sit down and write a coherent entry. But I couldn't let the day go by without wishing Marney a very happy birthday.
A few months ago, my family lost a lovely, dear friend whose birthday was also today (very fitting a Jewish Frenchman be born on Bastille Day). I hope, wherever he is, he knows we are all thinking about him today.
Many changes afoot in this still new and transitional phase in my life. A new job, new home, school possibilities, more freelance assignments and an exciting new writing project all in the works, all landing in my lap within weeks of each other. When it rains, it most definitely pours.
Speaking of rain, it is presently falling in tiny, rapid drops outside and I must look at the calendar to remind myself it is July. True, we have enjoyed a few gloriously sunny days along the coast, but as I overheard a man in the produce section of our local co-op market say recently, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a June in Humboldt County." 'Tis the truth.
With all the (mostly) positive words being written about John Edwards and what he brings to the formerly lackluster Democratic ticket, I'm beginning to wonder if our chances of taking back the White House would be better with Edwards-Kerry than the converse?
Just a thought.
Borrowing liberally (and rather shamelessly) from Vidiot, I simply must relay the following, which positively infuriates me and makes me absolutely terrified for what will happen to our beloved America if these arrogant, flagrant abusers of power remain in office:
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More on the story of the anti-Bush protesters being handcuffed and removed from a Bush rally:
An article in the Charleston Gazette has several interesting nuggets of info. Among them:
--the rally/visit was held on state property, i.e., the grounds of the West Virginia Capitol;
--Organizers called it a "presidential visit", not a "rally." State and federal funds were used to pay for the visit;
--Bush/Cheney buttons were sold on the Capitol grounds;
--the protesters, Nicole and and Jeff Rank, were arrested and charged with "trespassing";
--Nicole Rank is a federal employee (FEMA, to be exact);
--the Ranks were arrested by Charleston police;
--the Secret Service, as usual, was in charge of security at the event, and coordinated state, local, and parks polices' actions;
--attendees were required to have tickets, which were distributed by a Republican House member and local employers;
--those who applied for tickets were required to give their names, addresses, birthdates, birth places, and Social Security Numbers.
So....attending a presidential visit on state property is "trespassing"? I'd really like to hear more about this "no-trespassing area" that the Ranks were supposedly standing in. Were no pro-Bush people there as well? Presidential "visits" tend to be fairly crowded events. Were the Ranks just standing all by themselves, wearing their anti-Bush T-shirts, in a restricted area?
The Ranks have been given summonses to appear in court. Their hearing should be interesting.
Oh, and just to add to the irony, here's an excerpt from Bush's speech that day:
"On this Fourth of July, we confirm our love of freedom, the freedom for people to speak their minds, the freedom for people to worship as they so choose. Free thought, free expression, that's what we believe."
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Unfuckingbelievable. The hypocrisy rolls off his tongue like beads of sweat off Shaq's forehead at the free-throw line. It truly sickens me.
If Shrub remains in office, reports of incidents like this will invariably increase as he and his baneful cronies proceed with their assault on our civil rights, those rights guaranteed to us by that document the Bush camp has apparently never read, the Constitution.
Oh, and one more thing, Dubya: if you manage to outlaw abortion, you can rest assured, situations like these will present themselves over and over again.
I'm so frightened for America's future if these religious zealots continue to stomp on the Constitution, ignoring the mandate of separation of church and state and thumping us all on the head with their hackneyed Bibles.
But there is reason for optimism: Campaigning today in Florida, reflecting on the bungled recount of 2000, Kerry and Edwards note that no such thievery will transpire during this year's election, promising that "In 2004, not only does every vote in Florida count but every vote is going to be counted."
Hallelujah.
There are many, especially those who have seen Fahrenheit 9/11, who fear BushCo's blatant manipulation of votes could repeat itself. I believe Gore felt he had no option but to walk away in 2000, after only a brief fight. He was smart enough to realize he simply could not win. But I am becoming increasingly confident that an informed American public will not sit quietly and let their White House be stolen a second time.
Keep it up, Kerry and Edwards. May the force be with you.
Ladies and gentlemen, the ticket is complete. Now we enter a period of intense speculation about (and Republican scrutiny of) Edwards and his potential to swing voters uncertain about Kerry's presidential merits. As with Al Gore--who I generally liked but whose flaws were major and obvious--I am not convinced Kerry is the perfect man to lead this nation. But there is not a shred of doubt in my mind he is the far lesser of two evils. Monumentally lesser. Besides, when in our history has there ever been a perfect man for the job? He simply does not exist.
As far as most Americans are concerned, the key word going into this election is change. It is sadly apparent that this country has never been more desperately in need of change and intelligent leadership than now and I strongly believe in the new slogan: Kerry-Edwards. A stronger America.
I, for one, have experienced a rollercoaster ride of wildly mixed emotions since seeing Fahrenheit 9/11: extreme disheartenment regarding the state of our nation coupled with increasing optimism and faith that my fellow Americans won't allow another four years of bullying and deceit.
Let the games begin.
This morning I awoke with the song "Officer Krupke" from West Side Story inexplicably echoing in my head and once I ceased wondering why the fuck such a random, obscure and ridiculous tune would irritatingly repeat in my mind, I began thinking about the lyrics. These lyrics in particular:
Deep inside/The worst of us is good
After that annoying little refrain echoed through my cranium several times, I naturally began to wonder if the reverse is true? If the worst of us is good, does it follow that the best of us is bad? Well, I don't necessarily subscribe to the notion the actual lyric presents. Hell, there are countless people in the world for whom even an ounce of goodness deep down is implausible. However, I do believe the converse is true: even the best of people have a dark streak, a point at which they'd break like a wine glass, a point at which they'd turn, well, bad.
Does this make me a pessimist? Not at all. Like most people, I prefer to believe that the majority of human beings are inherently good, kind, genuine. It's what keeps me from fleeing this dysfunctional planet. I'm simply saying (young gang members in West Side Story exempted) "deep inside, the worst of us"--those truly evil souls that regrettably exist in large numbers--do not, as Bernstein & Sondheim may envisage, possess any goodness. In keeping with current events, I'd promptly slap Joel Steinberg's name on that list. And possibly that of our president, though I believe the brainless are incapable of true evil. Leave that to the brilliant criminal minds surrounding him.
Is it obvious I just saw Fahrenheit 9/11? I won't launch into a typical harangue, but I will say, my reaction surprised me immensely. The film left me less angry and enraged than sad and disheartened. Regardless of your personal politics, your opinion of our government or your disgust for Michael Moore, this is an important film. I learned a great deal from it, even as a consistently well-informed citizen. It also, quite unexpectedly, made me break down in tears, rummaging around in my backpack for a sadly absent absorbency device. When was the last time a film informed, entertained and deeply saddened you all at once? Whatever aversion or disdain people have for Moore's ballsy, arrogant, in-your-face style, it simply cannot be denied that he nailed this one masterfully. Thank you, Michael.
