A Very Unexciting Blog Entry About Music
...and a little aside about a big protest

I have been tagged by La to fill out this music survey on this, my blog. I hope you enjoy it.

1. What is the total amount of music files on your computer?

I do not know, but it isn't much. I was late leaving the cozy nest of the cassette tapes (with my collection now lining the edges of my apartment), and still therefore insist on having a stereo set-up in my car that has radio, CD and tape deck. I have had to replace it or componants of it damaged or stolen about four or five times, but I can't do without my tape collection. I recently bought some damn new-fangled "personal jukebox" MP3 player from iRiver for too much money and it annoys me almost as much as I enjoy it. I have nearly thrown it in my beloved Lake Merritt numerous times, accidently pushing "record" or "off" (sometimes first one and then the other, and then the 30 second shut-down and 30 second restart...) while trying to switch between radio and MP3 modes. Stupid stupid stupid interface.

2. The CD you last bought is:

I just re-bought Fiona Apple "When the Pawn" - one of my favorite driving-around albums, stolen in my most recent car burglary.

Can I just say that the new Battlestar Gallactica is reminding me of Twin Peaks? A sci-fi Twin Peaks. With a more traditional doom-laden soundtrack. And a few hottie girls with guns. The blonde hottie fighter pilot is like the log lady, with a cigar.

3. What is the song you last listened to before reading this message?

Something in the car... what was it... I was listening to Bedouin music from an album called "Apocalypse Across the Sky," and then switched to a different CD in the changer... Tori Amos? Kate Bush? Ah, yes. Paula Cole. I was just listening to "Where Have All the Cowboys Gone" by Paula Cole.

4. Write down 5 songs you often listen to or that mean a lot to you:

I've had "Down to the River" sung by Alison Krauss stuck in my head a lot lately.

I hit some button on my iRiver thing that put the damn thing on "repeat track" (probably hitting "record," and then "off" and then "play" again -- the record button is the way to change a lot of settings, depending on how long you hold it down, including the "shuffle" and "repeat" settings), and I did it with O Brother Where Art Thou's "You Are My Sunshine" playing. So THAT got stuck in my head for a while. Alison K's song is the one on after that one, and my head naturally goes to the next song, so they've both been stuck in my head a lot lately.

So that's two. I absolutely love this CD some bellydancing teacher mixed from vinyl that's full of Turkish Roma (Gypsy) dance songs. I'm not sure where it is, but when I find it, I will burn it and listen to it all the time on my iRiver. It's all 7/8 or 9/8. There is a song on it with an unknown artist and unknown album called "Lady Yelling." I love most everything on that CD so I'll just leave that as number three. There's another dance CD that I listen to ALL the time: "Gypsy Caravan" from the Putomayo series. I did a solo at the Rakkasah bellydance festival last year to the first track: Divi Divi, So Kerdjan. I may do that solo again at a couple venues next month, I liked it so much. I don't do songs twice. That is four.

OK, for number five... I love Patty Griffin- especially her first two albums. But I can't really pick a song. I've been listening a lot to the one album of Sweet 75, the little-known project of Yva Los Vegas and Nirvana's Krist Novoselic. But another candidate for number five is the song by Wild Colonials that I've been repeating (the hard way, since when I want to I can't figure out how to INTENTIONALLY set the iRiver on repeat) their song "Charm," which is fabulous. Soaring rock violin, and that lead singer Angela McCluskey's huge alto rock voice... But for number five let's do "Elenke" by Charming Hostess-- the old ChoHo, not the new ChoHo, with that hot violinist Carla Kihlstedt. I miss the old ChoHo. They only did that one fabulous album, "Eat."

Now, in retrospect, I have a regret. I wish I'd made number five the sad "Winter Song" by the Crash Test Dummies. That song reminds me of many good times gone by, and sad times that I don't miss. Listening to that song I'm again standing at a window looking at a deep, frozen woods, in the house of a dear friend who is no longer a friend, watching the pale winter sun steal away. There's a lot of silence, and space, and room to forgive in the long distances of the place where I'm from. That song seems to hold that thought.

5. Who are you going to pass this stick to? (3 persons) and why?

I don't do "chains" for anything. I long ago let go of the fear of karmic retaliation for not sending friends chain-questionnaires or political e-petitions or what-have-you. When I get them, I usually respond, but the one or two friends who send them to me are the only ones I would send such things to, and I don't think you're supposed to just send them back whence they came.

That said, these past few days and the next little while I'm very absorbed in building this website that documents the happenings around a big ongoing oil company protest by indigenous people on the Russian island of Sakhalin. They are very hearty souls, blocking trucks with picket lines and bonfires in 30 below CELSIUS (with windchill) conditions.

Sensitive New Age Cuttlefish

Heterotransvestism among the kin of Cthulu.

The God of Pants

I belong to a women witches' discussion list, and after some recent discussion I am in a quandry about magical ethics and "jailin' pants," or, as one put it "the low-riding gangstah leaning pants you either want to pull up or pull off" - the style that came from having your belt confiscated in jail. I'm not sure if anyone else is in this quandry, I get the list in digest format and kind of scan it, so I might be mixing up two threads. Well, I think it's a valid quandry anyway.

The basis for the quandry is this: one is not supposed to wish anything on anybody without that person's consent. As in, I will ask a friend with a broken arm if she wants me to do my mojo to ask for her quick healing. Usually the broken armed people say yes, but some people aren't comfortable with any kind of mojo being thrown at them, so the ethical thing to do is ask first, mojo later.

But one can't help it, can one, if one prays (as someone put it) to the God of Pants to make a passerby's droopy drawers stay up? Is this inflicting mojo on an unconsenting subject immoral? Or is it for the greater good?

And, just who is this God of Pants that we all know about but don't talk about?

All I know is that I am pleased with my new courdoroy stiped greenish-orangeish bell bottoms, and I hope the God of Pants is pleased too, and will grant me many years of stay-uppage-ness.

The Fuzzy Cute Pictures Continue

Still trying to wash out the post-tsunami image I unwittingly clicked on the other day, I am treating myself to a little internet stalking of the sugar glider.

I just found out, to my joy, that I know someone who has a 9-year-old sugar glider. She is scared of heights. The glider, I mean, not my friend. I wonder if catnip works on sugar gliders? I bet she'd fly then. I would if I were a stoned sugar glider, that's for sure.

Images from Hell and Tequila

I have been thinking about a quote I read somewhere recently about how everything today is about commodifying sex and horror. I love a little bit of the thrill of the hunt for the gritty, so I do my share of clicking around the images of war and death. My voyeurism around news coverage of the tsunami wreckage has until now yielded rather chaste images of high aerial shots or home videos of the white line of the advancing wave on the horizon. 160,000 dead in a few minutes just doesn't make sense to me yet, so I keep clicking, but I just keep getting those extreme close-ups of faces of survivors or the geography-lesson images. I therefore wasn't hesitant to click on a coworker's attached images of "local photoes of tsunami's impact." He is a Chinese environmentalist working in China- China didn't have that direct an impact. I assumed it would be more nice aerial shots of beaches created where once there were none. The first and last image I opened was of a sunny scene of a dumpster filled with stiff, misshapen, brown bodies. Faces weren't visible. Legs were.

I immediately felt sick, and then did what my good friend La sometimes does-- inundates herself with images of cuteness. I went to Google image search and typed in "cute." THIS turned up among polar bear cubs and frogs and kittens. I am now officially traumatized.

I will now spend some time clicking around the more wholesome www.sashy.com/etc/cute in the hopes of purging these images.

This cat in a lime helmet helps.

1. This is Too Depressing

From an anti-corruption mailing list:

Report received from contact in Aceh [Dec. 29]:

Until today not a single grain of rice, not a drop of water from outside have reached Acheh, all stopped in Medan by the military who insist that the aid must be given to them to be distributed by them.

This link to an article by journalist Phelim Kyne about corruption in the hardest-hit Indonesian province is a Yahoo link, so it will expire; for more info on the graft of aid money in Aceh, try the coverage bythe news portal Laksamana.net.

2. This Cheers Me Up

Geocaching.

Life is a Drop...

Life is a drop of dew balanced on a blade of grass.
- Buddhist saying requoted in the CNN eyewitness accounts from the 26 December earthquake and tsunamis.

There really are no words for it... a 500 mph instant muder-by-water of tens of thousands... one-third children... And it is even stranger to encounter this news from a place of 8 degrees Fahrenheit and an infinite unbroken mantle of snow here in Northern New York.

In my dream last night

I was in a ship with some group I was traveling with for work, i.e. Russian environmentalists, but we were in harbor. I remember enjoying using the word "harbor" in Russian (gaven') which declines rather beautifully on the tongue. It is featured in a lovely song "Arivaderci" by Zemfira (see above link under my obsessions), and after learning it in that song I rarely have a chance to use it. Anyhoo, that's how I know my trip was work-related. I also knew we weren't in Russia. Not because of the fact that it was a warm-water port, but because all the ships had "Ljubljana" scrawled on their sterns as their port of call. It was only this morning recounting the dream to a co-worker I realized that Ljubljana couldn't be any ship's port-of-call, since it is inland. So I think we were in port at Portoroz, or more probably Piran, a place that I think is magical and would like to go back to.

Anyway, the ship was huge. I remember enjoying a shower in a large bathroom while the ship rocked on the waves. I was running down the hall to the gym (in the hold of the ship, somehow) and was feeling really exhilerated about the upcoming trip out to sea.

I think that's a lovely way to enter the new season.

Other Ways to Stalk My Hometown

I keep going back to look at that stubborn snow at the Old Forge covered bridge, wondering if we have snow like that in my hometown. So, I did some stalking. This guy's bird-feedercam looking out at Route 11 (or so it appears) about three miles north of my parents' house seems to confirm it.

I mentioned in my Old Forge blog the other day how beautiful the Tug Hill is. Here is a cam to prove it (a site with a mission also to prove the existence of sun dogs, a phenomenon I have been known to point out to people).

This "Adirondack" cam is, I think, right outside Paul Smith (the culinary institute in the woods)- so it has the snow, being the high ground that the flurries from the Great Lakes are aiming for when they swoop down from Canada. Keep in mind that the Adirondack Park is hyoooge. The south-east corner that most people know (Lake George, etc.) is populous and built-up compared to the poverty-stricken, wind-blown and undeveloped north-west section, nearest my home. The wind has done such a number on the Tug Hill side of the park that there is almost no soil on Tug Hill. You have to pour concrete to put in a fencepost. People in the city take concrete for granted. Where I am from, you take enough-soil-for-a-fencepost-hole for granted.

My Poignant Moment of the Week

So, there's lots of things I've been meaning to blog about: my ongoing observation of the heron at my end of Lake Merritt, the preview I went to for A Series of Unfortunate Events (quickly: lesbian movie standard is met, Monty is the gay character, Klaus is the Jesus character), Dolly Parton, and Geocaching. However, this morning in a meeting a colleague who works in Paris told me to check out the great US apology page (for our recent election), and the World's apology-accepted page.

I know you all have probably known about those two pages for a while, since they have been up for a month now, which is 6 years in internet time. But I just discovered them, and it has me choked me up. The eyes peering out from the computer, sorry. Everyone, sorry. Everyone trying to find a place of acceptance of the reality of things, but where we can still hold our heads up and look eachother in the eye. It's heartening.

Old Forge Betrays its Fan Base

You've changed, man!

Your old webcam shot of the canoe put-in spot at the Moose River was so faaayn, I used to visit it and get all mellow. But now you've left it for the covered bridge shot. I can live, but I just wanted you to know, you used to be cool. Ducks, children playing, sunsets on the water... you don't share that with me now. Just that damned covered bridge.

Old Forge is 70 miles south (yes, south) east from the place where I lived from age 0 to 18. I monitor the webcam to see when it's getting dark, when the snow comes, when the ducks leave. My most vivid memory of Old Forge is at age 17 driving there with Pam, a girl I shared classes with from age 9 on. She was a slutty, smart-ass softball pitcher, and we took her Gremlin to see her horrible boyfriend. Their pet name for his penis was Snuffalupagus. We stopped in some gift shop and I shoplifted some pine-resin incense that I still like-- I burn it when I'm homesick. We stopped on the way home for strawberries some farm family was selling on the roadside. The tug hill was all blue on the horizon behind us. Summers at home are heavenly.

Why Am I in This Suitcase and Where are You Taking Me?

From a letter posted by Michael Moore on his website, making the entire US public into a victim of domestic abuse at the hands of GWB's government:

[Y]ou tell him to go to hell... then you walk out the door, taking the kids and gays and minorities with you...

Are we packed separately, or we all in one handbasket?

A Sedate New Permutation of the Lesbian Avengers?

My Bay Area Sappho list (for LGBT women living in the Bay Area) had an announcement today of the revival of a group I never even knew about the first time-- the Artemis Volunteers. It sounds like the partially-assimilated post-entry-level Lesbian Avengers! In our heyday, the Avengers did some of its best work in San Francisco as part of a coalition, essentially putting our "hands to trouble" as it were, being warm bodies in an action or in support work which ultimately served all of those who are marginalized in society, not just women or lesbians.

Not that I need one more thing to do, but I see this as a positive response to the November elections. Gotta applaud them when you find 'em.

A Near Brush With Obscurity

I don't know why, but today I was suddenly convinced my website was a) hosted by Geocities and b) that it had been deleted. By "my website" I mean my private personal collection of things that I don't subject you, my gentle blog reader, to.

Anyway, this confusion was resolved when (after I dried my tears) I Googled "yahoo + geocities + sucks" and found a page of links to Anti-Geocities and Anti-Yahoo sites --- hosted on * Angelfire *. Whereupon I remembered that I use Angelfire, too.

That tells you how often I update my site. Well, anyhoo, it lives. I am glad. Yay.

So, Slovenia Looks Good. Or Canada...

...until the Slovenians give me a work visa.

Read more about the noble Canadian effort to rescue liberals from our grim fate.

I was just in Alaska for ten days-- I can handle any weather the Canadians throw at me.

The Blended One

Eskimo fish ice cream!

Akutaq is "the blended one" in Eskimo Yu'pik language. They put up a sign at the Alaskan Federation of Natives conference-- across the street from the convention center-- some senate candidate's stump-- AKUTAQ 11:30-- the swarm could have stopped traffic (if there was traffic). People walked away with armloads of boxes of cups of the pink frothy yumminess. It is, actually, yummy, if made with whipped cream and not seal lard.

September 15, 2001, Barbara's Vote of Conscience

One of the reasons I still can love this country, that I am represented by Barbara Lee, the solitary vote in Congress against the Iraq war. I found a Mother Jones interview with her about her solitary vote... dated September 20th, 2001. How much has changed since.

I was in DC lobbying with a group of Russian Far East ecological activists and we got a tour of the Congress by a young assistant from Rep. Lee's office. He seemed totally paranoid that we would say something in a tone of Bush-bashing within earshot of a guard. He rather struck fear into our hearts. He used the words "right wing coup" without erring from his deadpan Californian blase'-ness.

He was very excited about the underground mini-metro between the house and the senate. He wasn't a cynical man. And he believes we have undergone a coup.

News from the Lakeside Baptist Church, My Neighbors

Well, the church with which I essentially share a wall has undergone some changes. My apartment building, which previously gave homes to nuns, is full of queers, immigrants, crazy old women and young men fresh out of jail. The church has become noisy with remodeling lately, and it started to look- from the odd groups coming and going helping with the hauling and painting and pounding- that something akin to what happened in the nuns' residence had happened. Well the Berkeley "Regeneration" church that has taken over now that the many "ethnic ministries" housed there have found their own churches.

The Regeneration church is the reason why I thought a rock band was rehearsing in the church on Sunday nights. The guys working in the alley right now told me- with a little embarassment- "yeah, we get pretty loud- does it bother you?" Those are the kinds of neighbors I can deal with. The old saws from the Methodist Hymnal being rehearsed off-key at 9 am-- that was making me hate Christianity all over again. A shame after all those years of detante.

I wonder if their minister will be moving out of his coffee shop office. His book is "The Relevant Church." I can respect that in a title.

P.S. Barry the Heron is avoiding me. I saw his large sweeping wings flapping in silhouette- flying away- as I walked by his post the other night. Figures.

The Heron and the George W. Bush Effigy

Walking home from work yesterday, I stopped to look at the Great Blue Heron that has been fishing at my end of Lake Merritt since the onset of fall. We usually eyeball eachother for a few minutes, taking stock. I'm not a fish, he's not a metaphor. But we get a certain something out of this relationship.

Coming to the conclusion that this was a relationship, I decided to name him, and was in the process of saying names loud (to test their musicality) "Bob the Heron, Bill the Heron," and was probably about to come up with a really clever name when this lit-up musical effigy of George W. Bush rolled into my path on Lakeshore.

I guess the Pants On Fire Mobile is en route between Eugene and Reno. I highly recommend trying to catch a glimpse, if you are in Reno this weekend.

By the way, I have decided to name my bird friend Barry the Heron. May he always fish 1000.

Big Cats Make Me So Happy I Can Forget About Baseball

I am trying to forget about baseball for the time being, since the season ended on such bad footing for the local teams I love, and so I'm spending time perusing this website for hot photos of big pussies, big speckled and striped Russian and Chinese pussies (tigers and leopards).

I think I love the big cats because I have a tabby-stripey girlcat who loves to hunt, especially small objects indoors, though sometimes she likes to hunt big game--pouncing on me, claws extended, when I'm in bed. I don't think she does it to wake me up-- it's just a hit-and-run game. Anyway, I like to know her whereabouts when I'm in bed.

So, I was retelling a great story I heard while I was in Vladivostok this past month about a tiger who ripped off a guy's leg at the knee. I was in bed with my girlfriend. I paused in the story and suddenly noticed... unmoving... two stripey ears perked up over the edge of the bed.

I chased her off, but I don't think I'll be telling the one about the maneating tiger again, not even if she asks really sweetly. My own private predator... the bears are smart, but it's true, the man-eaters are smarter.

My First View of the Pacific From the Left

It is pretty big. I flew longer than I've ever flown in one stretch- 13 hours. Then I flew another two hours here, to Vladivostok. The bay makes the air moist and fresh, when the diesel isn't suffocating you. The air is warm, even though the sky doesn't get light until after 7:30 am. They say the swimming is great.

I have seen Korean graffiti here, and in English "I hate this faking world." I've seen ads for Gold Bond brand tea and Maxim brand coffee.

In the lift you are forbidden to use "fiery things" or to try to "libirate yourself" in case you get stuck. Aside from those restrictions, it's a pretty nice budget hotel.

That is all.

Stalking Vladivostok

Here is Vladik's very useful Virtual Tourist site for people looking at Vladik like a tourist destination, which I am not. It is where I will be working for the next two weeks, at environmental conferences.

Here is Vladik's very own lesbian chat site, where apparently the lezzie club 'Drive' is getting reviewed, and you need to have your own car to get there! I hate that. Here you have to dance until you sober up enough to drive, there you probably have to dance and drink until you have the courage to face the Russian roads.

I've only found one reference to a bellydancing place - a Chinese restaurant, of all places. Russia is one of those places you find out "Asian" means everything from Istanbul to Vladivostok, from Baikal to Sri Lanka. Half the world.

Welcome to the lesbian web-portal of Vladivostok.

I have four more days before I leave for Vladik (as it is called) for two weeks of environmentalist conferences. I have to get going with my social card.

Cash Inspires Anti-RNC Action

Behold the photos of the Johnny-Cash-themed Man In Black protest group in NYC this past week at www.defendjohnnycash.org.

My Old Boss, Discovered as a New Species

Ananova reports on a furry frog-like shark discovered in a German aquarium.

I thought [P. E.] was still living in New York.

New Feature: George's Best Ringlish This Week

Several points of my coworker George's weekly report were outstandingly cobbled-together. Including one point that he, for some reason, included, but censored. You don't need to know the context of his work to enjoy his Ringlish, and his lack of a sense of appropriate use of the weekly report format. I do not get his use of quotes at all, from a Russian or English perspective. But I can still enjoy those. His ability to brag about his computer skills remains intact, despite all his lack of language skills, or good sense in general (he "penetrated"? a board?). Is he trying to predict an invasion of Russia by the US there in the end? It's like reading Nostradamus, isn't it?

- "Penetrated" the TRN board. Felt sorry for Solveig, the coordinator of TRN conference.

- Fully reloaded my computer (which is a useful thing to do at least once a
year)

- CENSORED

- Thought about those three terrorist acts in Russia last week (two airplane crashes and a bomb blow at a buss stop in Moscow) and about Russian perspectives. Adepts of Euro-Asian exceptionality say that Russia's fight against terrorism has nothing in common with the American one. Adepts of Anglo-Saxon Supremacy support the idea strongly. Russian society instability increases. Russia moves simultaneously in four opposite directions [It is not spreading, but shrinking in four separate spills, the size of each will determine Russia's future.]:
(1) building open democratic society,
(2) restoring imperial dictatorial ambitions,
(3) Africanization, when raw materials are the only source of revenue, and
(4) planning to improve living standards.

This physics law violation (simultaneous movement in the conflicting directions) is possible in Russia due to overrating of administrative governing and people's failure to speak out. We need to communicate more and convince further about world-wide problems. Russians are open for our communication yet and we should wrap it in a good way. Though this "Country of Unpredictable Future" owns the world second WMD arsenal and has the next after Saudis oil reserve volume, I hope the policy of preventive strike will not prevail. [We have a "wounded ant" in Iraq. We do not want to deal with a "wounded bear."] We have many common problems to resolve together with Russia.

Useless Fact for the Day

Old news, I know, but I can't resist. Available on about a million useless fact web pages.

Until 1965, driving was done on the left-hand side on roads in Sweden. The conversion to right-hand was done on a week day at 5 pm. All traffic stopped as people switched sides. This time and day were chosen to prevent accidents where drivers would have gotten up in the morning and been too sleepy to realize this was the day of the changeover.

As a part-Swede I can see myself thinking that this was a good plan.

The Fish Are Losing Their Affect

I know it is bad blogging ettiquette to quote a whole article from a news source, but I cannot for the life of me find this on the Washington Post website at the moment, so here you go. Fish on Antideps.

Drugs Found in Fish Samples
Science Notes
Washington Post
August 30, 2004

Antidepressants, birth control drugs and other medications are surfacing in fish tissue and are in some cases causing neurological, biochemical and physiological changes, according to Baylor University researchers.

Bryan Brooks, assistant professor of environmental studies at Baylor University's Center for Reservoir and Aquatic Systems Research, said his findings mark the first time researchers have documented drugs building up in organisms that reside in streams that receive large amounts of wastewater from municipal sources.

Brooks focused on effluent-dominated streams and rivers in Texas, where he and his researchers performed forensic tests on fish and invertebrates. In Waco alone, he said in a statement, about 12 million gallons of treated water a day are pumped into the Brazos River, which pours into the Gulf of Mexico.

"When male fish are exposed to critical levels of estrogen, they can be feminized and their secondary sexual characteristics become suppressed," he said. "We're also seeing antidepressants building up in fish tissue at high enough levels that may trigger behavioral changes" in the fish.

But he cautioned that more study is needed to determine whether the fish are suffering adverse consequences.

A buildup of antidepressants can modulate neurotransmitters such as serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine in fish, Brooks said.

No Environmental Protection Agency regulations govern the level of pharmaceuticals in discharged water.

Meet Blame India Watch

Every once in a while I go check on what my blog-mother Laura is up to. She got me blogging, so I should read her site more, you know, call home sometimes, send flowers. I could at LEAST link to her. But I am too lazy.

Meanwhile. Her old primary site Interesting Monstah has been chilling out for a while, I find, because she's got a hot new site Blame India Watch about the move to blame outsourcing for labor abuses and shortages at home, rather than bad economic policy or foreign policy. Clickez vous and enjoy.

My Favorite Champion of Ringlish Speaks

He emerges from the tundra woods swinging a scaly worm above his head and ululating... an elaborate Mongolian warrior cry echoing among San Francisco's three or four skyscrapers...

This is my coworker Georgii-- or "George" to me. Sort of to spite him when I'm writing in Russian I transliterate it "Djordj." I'm more comfortable (and quite frankly more clear about what we're talking about) if we're both speaking Russian, but he insists on cramping along in English when we speak.

Here below, for your entertainment, is the final bullet point from his most recent weekly report. This is not a snippet of one of his classic-- nay, epic-- missteps, or even his most muscular floridity-- I just think you can hear some of the poetry of Russian still clinging to his words like cheap cigar smoke on a threadbare polyester pantsuit:

Has killed the Sasser Worm in my home computer. Though, it does not
relate directly to the work, it was joyful fun. The worm practically blackmails; it commands to download an update from Internet (pretending to be your computer's system), otherwise it shuts down your computer in 60 seconds (and does so). Any reasonable person should show a finger to the worm's commands and Microsoft's webpage provides arms to kill the worm successfully.

This is a special-ity of George's, the flamboyant destruction of a technological foe. Now that we're doing these weekly reports I hope I can offer you spectacular feats of Ringlish as a regular feature. Here's hoping.

Woo Hoo - I now know someone who's been reviewed on Lesbi.ru!

Here's to my friend Sonja Franeta's book "Pink* Flamingos" getting reviewed on Lesbi.ru! "Pink" is a slang term for lesbian (a little old-school, but still understood). The first Russian-speaking dyke group I was ever in was called "the Pinks," in Seattle.

I raise a virtual shot glass of vodka and say-- here's to non-Russian Russian-speaking lesbians and their Russophilic creative produce!

Sonja interviewed a range of Siberian queers over a period of time, capturing the interviews on film and tape. They are finally put together in this book, taking you to a world that has been little known, even to Russian LGBT activists, even those living in Siberia.

I think it interesting that it took a 2nd-generation Croat-American to complete this project. Having hung out a certain amount with Croatians in Croatia, they barely consider Russia or Russians relevant to any discussion of their own history or language. It's like they are some distant cousin, something like how the Mongolians might discuss the Navajo-- as though they were disconnected in pre-history.

As much as I love researching my own US/Swedish/Welsh/British culture, and Sonja loves Croatia, Sonja and I both find Russia- for whatever crazy reason- a country more compelling than the ones our families came from. I hope we are better at documenting without idealizing or proselytizing.

In another funny permutation of people working for not their own, this last time I was in Russia there was a funny moment with a straight US Irish-Catholic guy, myself (as aformentioned a US-mutt, and a queer Pagan), and a Ukrainian Christian lesbian were sitting around in the hip cafe "The Idiot" in St. Petersburg trying to figure out the funding for a new Jewish queer group that we thought should exist. We were very stoked about our new idea, picking up steam through a bottle of Georgian white wine. It remains to be seen if our Jewish queer friends are interested in putting themselves that much in the public bullseye for ridicule and abuse.

That said, I think the Siberian queers will be very grateful to have Sonja's book, available here for only $4.91, or the reasonable price of 142 roubles.

I love him because...

Last Night Jon Stewart Used the Word "Sylph"

...to describe the Statue of Liberty. I.E. "America's Favorite Sylph."

So. I dragged out the dictionary from under the light coating of tabby cat hair and dust.

According to this on-line medical dictionary it is an ornithological term as well as entomological.

But what interests me the most is that according to my own dictionary its original meaning was from Paracelsus, meaning a specifically mortal, soulless spirit of the air, a blend of nymph and sylva (forest).

Wikipedia adds a Pope and Milton gloss for the term.

So the Statue of Libery stands high in the air, as though she commands the element. Very graceful, Jon, my favorite midnight bard-of-truth.

Aha, All is Explained

Why the Phonecian's Religious Affiliation Matters to Some People

My new favorite math site's author was punished with religion at a formative age, and came out of it a math scholar, with a strong personal wariness about Judeo-Christian beliefs. But yet, she gives them the knowledge of Pi. She is a bigger man than I.

Cubits and Handbreadths and Charismatic Megafauna, Oh My

Down With Charismatic Megafaunism!

I have been in student mode lately, learning a new job, and learning (relearning) elementary algebra.

My favorite new term I learned this past week in my job is "Charismatic Megafauna," commonly referring to the WWF panda and its ilk (lions, tigers, bears, baby seals, oracas, and sometimes whales), being the means by which most people find a way to give a hoot about the expiration of the planet.

As in, "we could have saved that watershed if it had any charismatic megafauna, but all it had was salmon."

There is a great deal of sublimated hostility toward the charismatic-megafaunistic approach to environmental protection. In someone's office here I once saw the crossbar & circle "no" symbol photoshopped over a WWF panda logo.

In my spare time when I'm not protecting the petulant microfauna, I'm currently trying to get a comfortable grip on linear equations.

It's about time someone took the Phonecians' side.

Looking for some on-line assistance with the order of operations in solving linear equations, I found this neat little corner of the math world evaluating the Phonecian understanding of Pi, as expressed in cubits and handbreadths.

I'm not sure why the author is so sensitive about finding some mathematical truth in the Bible, or why s/he thinks (or s/he thinks someone thinks) it's so awful to connect the Phonecians with the Jews, but clearly s/he's writing in defense of the Phonecians. With some passion, I might add. It's about time...?

Make Goals Not War

From the Global Development Briefing this week:

LAST WEEK, we noted that a most unusual soccer game is set to take place in Haiti. Brazil, which deployed 1,200 peacekeeping troops in the troubled Caribbean island nation in June to replace outgoing U.S. troops, has already handed out 1,000 free footballs. Next month, the Brazilian national team is scheduled to play a "friendly" against Haiti. We asked what the price of admission to the football match will be and what Brazil hopes to achieve. Answer: the price of admission is handing over a weapon and Brazil hopes to help disarm rival Haitian militas, relieve tension and ultimately help prepare the country for elections by 2005. As reader Jim Anderson notes, Haitian interim Prime Minister Latortue has said that a few Brazilian soccer stars could do more to disarm warring militias than thousands of peacekeeping troops.

This has got to be one of the most creative solutions I've ever heard to the problem of gun proliferation.

Here's some more information on the upcoming match from Sports Illustrated.

Don't you think they could do something like this to disarm Oakland with a "friendly" between the Raiders and 49ers?

Going Back to Bukhara

The poor young journalist/ government critic - Ruslan Sharipov - for whom I used to professionally advocate - on Friday went to his mother's home town Bukhara to do "community service" and relinquish 25% of his nonexistent salary. This is in exchange for his freedom from serving a 4 year sentence on false charges under the Uzbekistan anti-sodomy laws.

He should have been unconditionally released from all charges, since they have no evidence, and he has refugee status and intends to leave the country as soon as he can. They want to get him to stop organizing people in Uzbekistan-- they should just let him go! He sent his mother away (she sold her apartment in Bukhara and packed up her one son remaining at home and moved to Sacramento, California this past December) because he feared for her life. The government threatened to kill her, and tortured him. So I don't think he wants to stay.

I can only imagine what their vision of "community service" might be.

Here
is the Reporters Without Borders press release that just came out today announcing his "community service" sentence.

Here is a June 15th "Advocate" article based on a phone interview with Ruslan from his most recent prison in Tashkent.

If anyone wants to write letters for him you can find addresses here.

Still Stalking

I'm sorry, stalkettes, for being so slack on my stalking of late. Since January I have been robbed twice, and since April I've gone to Russia (where I got robbed a third time, btw), got laid off (losing my health insurance), got my identity stolen, had my adopted grandmother die and *her* property stolen, got a new job, and since I got notice I didn't make it into grad school, I've gotten myself into an algebra course to try and prepare for another stab at the GRE. I am still bellydancing (and performing), managing a spoken-word production series, and learning Latin with a tutor. I'm also stalking the Giants and the A's, and trying to take part in the "Pride" festivities that come swinging at your head ever year in June. If that wasn't enough, I have a girlfriend, and a tabbycat, and they both demand time. So, you see, stalking for your sake, dear reader, has been limited. The goslings have gone neglected too, so don't feel singled-out for neglect.

The good news is that I now have ANOTHER job which accommodates stalking, i.e. has DSL and research opportunities. I'm managing two websites: ECA Watch, keeping track of Export Credit Agencies and their nefarious deeds and (I just found out yesterday) also the Bering Sea Forum. It is nice to finally learn how to spell "Bering."

I'm also working on stalking corporate puppets who use ill-gotten credit from places like ECAs to fund nasssssty projects like Sakhalin 2, a natural gas and oil plant that is still being built, but which is already causing a long litany of woes for the locals (a 22-point list, written by someone who used to support the plant, which I translated last week).

The new manager of the plant is someone who was *just* hired, and who has now had this waaay over-budget (by 30%) mess of a project, with overtones of illegality, dumped in his ickle British lap. The he sits, on a cold, Russian island-- a dark, isolated, fragile, seismically active, cold Russian island-- with the salmon choking in the debris from underwater drilling, the whales running for their lives, the locals blockading roads...

Anyhoo, I'm supposed to try to get a high seed for the web page describing him and his messy project on Google searches for "Ian Craig." I forget what this is called. It's got a name.

Well, I need to do it to this poor Ian Craig guy, formerly of Shell Oil Malaysia, formerly of Shell Oil UK, where he formerly worked for Enterprise Oil, a friendly little offshore oil corporation that got bought up by big bully Shell... and so he, with the face of a constipated croquet player, was led down the dark path to Sakhalin Energy.

So, if you want to help push the page with Ian's list of crimes up on the Google search results, please click here ("Ian Craig") or paste this URL:

http://www.eca-watch.org/problems/russia/iancraig.html

...into a link somewhere on your own web page.

Thanks for helping incite the sedition. You know -- as your mother use to say-- it's not going to incite itself!

In Memorium: Valentina Mikhailovna Dezelin (neé Stakhova)

b. February 23, 1899, the Crimea under the Empire of Russia
d. May 24, 2004, California under the United States

She lived four lifetimes by the standards of her time. She lived on three continents. She lost three husbands. She changed nationality three times. She survived at least four wars. She spoke at least four languages. She never left the church (Russian Orthodox or Eastern Orthodox), but the church often left her, including during the years a crooked, charming priest took her power of attorney and what money he could get from her, and nobody stopped him. The church also abandoned her when she went in a nursing home, never sending help, visitors, or comforting cards; most hurtful to me, after her death, a long-absent acquaintance from her most recent church scheduled her memorial and burial without consulting with me or waiting for me, her adopted great-granddaughter, and the person most and longest involved in her ongoing care. I returned from Russia on Thursday, and she was buried on Friday morning. I found out about the burial through constant phone calling, and made it to the church in time to place a kiss on her cheek before they closed the coffin, screwed the box into the hearse, and then lowered her into a Serbian Orthodox Cemetary hole while a nearby cement truck engine chugged an unrepentant proletarian drumroll.

Here's a memorial to you, and your namesake, Martyr Valentina.

You will always be remembered, you classy, tough, smart, amazing old lady.

Privet from Sir Novgorod the Great-- Russia

Pobloguju... I'm writing a little blog entry from Novgorod, Russia - Velikii Novgorod now. I have just reviewed with my good friend Sergei two years of his finds on the local WW2 battlefields with his friends, shovels, and GPS. Of late he's been researching the wartime aerodromes and airplane wrecks through interviews and photography around the area in the small ... I mean extinct... little villages around the battlefields. It is just amazing what he's found... including a German pilot, complete with rosary and glasses. The stories of the non-heroic behavior by Soviet soldiers, and the crazy methods they used to operate in the battlefields, as retold by old men who were 12 years old, hiding in the bushes around the aerodromes. He's been researching and digging up tanks and things since 1989, and boy does he have a collection...

Anyway, the jet lag and ongoing marathon of chai and blinni and vino and balzam and on top of that catching up with everyone has gotten me hollow-eyed and slightly dizzy with overwhelm. I haven't even made it to the local kremlin, for the full nostalgaic effect. My English is also slipping, but never mind, I had a double degree, I don't need that English degree... the Russian degree is serving me very well.

What's amazing besides what changes in 10 years since I lived here is what doesn't change. Someone puts on a little weight, but the personality stays the same. Someone else breaks his leg and turns into a person with a handicap (an "invalid" here) but he still has the same old drinking problem. Another gets uterine cancer and lives with a colostomy bag but she still works through all my grammatical errors and makes sure I understand why I need to correct that accent...

And the konjushnja, the horse stable where I rode here, has moved so that it is right next to where I'm staying... and the young people there are still jumping huge fences on huge gorgeous horses...

Don't worry, those of you who still read this and wonder where I am and if I'm coming home, I still have a return ticket and I intend to use it. I'm just very, very, very far away from San Francisco.

Poka,
SS

Good God Goslings!

The lake by my house -- the unique brackish urban estuary of Lake Merritt -- is presently gosling-rich.

There are three families of two adults with goslings in the number of 5, 9 (the eldest clan, almost showing adult feather color in their tails), and the youngest clan-- 19. 19-uplets. Today the 19 formed the shape of the shadow of an elegant old lantern-style streetlight that is at the southern edge of the lake. It was very hot. They were squished so compactly into the shape of the shadow that if the sun had gone behind a cloud (yeah, I know, California-- what cloud?!) there would have been an Installation of Streetlight-Shaped Pile of Goslings there on the beach.

I stood there staring trying to wrap my brain around this cuteness like a mushu pancake around a pile of filling when someone thought it was a good idea to run to the lake to drink a little brackish afternoon tea. The entire flock of 19 flapped its useless sets of wings and ran after the first thirsty one and then the installation was destroyed, and everyone was standing in the water a little stunned to be in the sun again. The parent geese didn't say a WORD. They were tired. They were hot. They walked aimlessly around at some several yards distance, watching me. If the kids wanted to run in a panic into the lake, that was fine with them. If I wanted to chase them in, so much the better.

Now, for some gosling research. I want to know how long they are little flightless balls of grey cuteness.

Here is where my stalking will begin: Coalition to Prevent the Destruction of Canada Geese

Ah, how the fall migration of geese will hurt this year...

Back in the Saddle and Stalking Again: Paul Reps' Arabic Name

I am finally recovering from the shock(s) of being laid off, having my car vandalized and burgled, and my checkbook used for $2300 worth of fraud. I'm revving the engines to go back to school, work, and Russia.

And Tassajara Monestary, for another workshop with Jane Hirshfield. She asks the participants to read a poem aloud to the group every day, and last time (two years ago) I read from the Zen poet I adore, Paul Reps. She thanked me for bringing Reps back to Tassajara. This time I want to bring some new, maybe rare Reps books so as to impress her even more.

Well, my e-bay stalking has produced a rare find: a 1938 text by him that is * in * sane * -- he is analyzing the meaning of names based on their * sounds *. It is new age before the start of the new age. He was 42 when he wrote it. What was he smoking in California in 1938? Had they invented stoner lifestyle yet?

So, he signed it "Saladin Reps" - and I assumed it was not him, but maybe a child of his or something. No, it was him. He wrote under the name Saladin Reps as well as Paul Reps. I have a whole new frontier of stalking! Unfortunately the only book I've found so far by Saladin Reps is $250.

Googling this mysterious name this is what I found:

Art and Buddhism: the Paul Reps Papers -- held in Los Angeles, where he died in 1990, at the age of 95.

Shine on you crazy Saladin...

Drowning My Sorrows in Light Beer and Baseball

The baseball season is arriving to seize me like the lifeguard in the breach. I've been floundering with my lost job and therefore lost financial security (two days ago), lost personal security due to repeated car break-ins (most recently a month ago, the third within four months), and a professional criminal contacting me in the guise of a police officer to confirm my personal information, and then taking my checkbook out on the town for fun and --apparently-- health foods and beauty supplies (Whole Foods and Sally's Beauty two recent targets of victims she's been defrauding for over two weeks now).

So, thank the gods for schmaltzy old movies about baseball. Especially "A League of Their Own." Here's a cool page with some of the real facts behind the movie:
Rockford Peaches - A League of Their Own

Their link to the baseball players charm school handbook is broken-- I'll go stalk it now.

Here it is... ...on the AAGPBL website!

I'm SO Moving to Slovenia Someday

Some early news from Geneva, where the UN Commission on Human Rights delegates are meeting March 15 to April 23 to discuss the world's human rights, including a proposal by the Brazil delegation to condemn discrimination based on sexual orientation.

Statement by His Excellency Dr. Dimitrij Rupel, Slovenia's Minister of Foreign Affairs, addressing the UN Commission on Human Rights, 16 March 2004

"One of the core human rights principles is equal treatment of individuals and prohibition of discrimination of any kind. It is through this principle that members of specific groups, which often find themselves in a precarious situation, enjoy protection of their rights. In every day situations, it is precisely those individual who need most help. The scope of specific groups comprises migrants, children, women, disabled persons, asylum seekers, refugees, ethnic and religious groups, individuals with different sexual orientation, conscientious objectors, people infected with diseases such as HIV/AIDS and many others. It is of the utmost importance to remedy their situation so that they do not suffer consequences due to their distinct status. The competent authorities should establish fair procedures, which would impede abusive and stigmatic treatment of any kind, and adopt measures which would protect their human dignity."

Now pardon me while I look around at the Slovenian Foreign Ministry's website looking for ways to improve my country...

Lifestyles of the People Among Whom I Was Raised
-- or, when "talking about their marriage" went terribly wrong.

This is a choice article clipped from the Watertown Daily Times this past summer by my parents and sent to me as part of a pre-Easter care package which included striped bunny socks that say "Make the stupid people shut up." As far as local Crime News clippings go, my parents specialize in husband-beatings, 25-cent petit larcenies, and "refused to stop yelling outside" charges.

Woman Faces Charge of Hitting Her Husband

DEXTER* [i.e. Northern New York, see my note] -- A woman who allegedly backhanded her husband in the chest was charged July 8 by the Jefferson County Sheriff's Department with second-degree harassment.

Deputies said Deborah J. Gross, 41, of 21018 Stone Road**, struck her husband, Allen L., 44, while at home at about 6:30 p.m. July 8.

Two days earlier, Mr. Gross accused his wife of trying to threaten him with a hammer and beating him with a pair of jeans. He said the two were talking about their marriage when she grabbed a hammer. He said he "lovingly" took the hammer away from her.

He told deputies that she then grabbed a pair of jeans and hit him about the head and arms with them.

* These touching events took place in Dexter, New York, about an hour's drive north of "Upstate," -- and
** at an address
10 minutes' drive west of where I'm from, which I affectionately call North Nosebleed

...Per City-data.com: the Dexter area is significantly lower than the state average in percent of people with more than a high school diploma, and even that is only 80%. As I sit here waiting anxiously to find out if I got into UC Berkeley's public policy institute, I'm enjoying a rousing/ vertiginous look back (down) at whence I've come. (Russians ask "otkuda ty?" -- "whence you?" -- and I say "neotkuda" -- "no-whence.")

Pretty much keeping out of jail puts me on par with some of our highest achievers. Like our journalists.

You gotta love 'em, they give the perp's full name and address. I mean, look at the place on the yahoo-maps link! It's got to be the only house for miles. I'm surprised they don't add the house color and significant lawn ornaments you might recognize. "Oh yeah, that's that pig-silhouette house!"

An Update: Resolution 137 Cancelled, Iraqi Women Breathe a Sigh of Relief

According to the Women Living Under Muslim Laws International Solidarity Network (WLUML), the introduction of the anti-woman Sharia (Islamic law) into the new Iraqi constitution was halted on February 27th by the Iraqi Governing Council (IGC, formed by the Paul Bremer-led Coalition Provisional Authority [CPA]).

Here is part of the March 3rd WLUML announcement's text:

A proposal to the IGC was submitted by Ms. Raja al Khazaai, an IGC member which demanded the cancellation of the resolution. Mr. Adnan Pachachi led the issue to a vote. The meeting was attended by 20 out of 25 of the IGC members. 15 voted to cancel resolution 137 and 5 members voted against, including one woman. Four members angrily left the meeting and went to discuss the matter with Mr Bremer.

It is important to note that the resolution never came into effect because
it had not been ratified by Bremer.

Ms. Raja al Khazaai, had submitted the proposal to the IGC following the
recommendation of the founding conference of the association that she had established called 'The National Council for Iraqi Women'. The IGC did not consider the second part of the conference recommendation that demanded that '40% of the seats in all institutions such as the Parliament,
government, etc. be held by women'

They go on to say that these details are not available in English-language press as of yet, so the WLUML site can only cite links to Arabic-language information sources like Aman, the Arab Regional Resource Centre on Violence Against Women.

Some Early Signs of the Apocalypse, and / or Signs of the Hopefulness of Humanity
...depending on your state of mind.

I think that the fact that Holiday Inn hasn't bulldozed this place and rebuilt something that doesn't make you want to roll around on the ground moaning is a sign of something... probably some high-level manager's denial of the end of the 1970's. But perhaps also someone's love for the ugly, dedication to preserving the flawed architectural choices of our forebears, someone with a quirky sense of humor... ... and keep in mind that the photo depicts its FLATTERING angle. Its BACKSIDE. The view from the street-- the main entrance-- the facade, if you will, is a huge one-story slab of corrugated aluminum with a big orange swoopy "girl-handwriting" style HOLIDAY INN bolted to it.

Another sign of something: the postal worker who sold me stamps this morning had taped to the top of her scale-- with numerous swaths of clear packing tape-- a small Valentine chocolate heart still partially in its purple foil "smiley faced heart" wrapper. It is hermetically sealed to her metal scale. A future generation will be able to dig up that scale from the earthquake rubble and eat that chocolate with no fear of spoilage.

It is my guess that one of her children gave it to her. I wonder about her relationship with her children, and if it's a good one. So, I consider this heart affixation as a sign of parental hope. That if she keeps that chocolate heart from being eaten, her children's hearts will be good, and available to her, even through the "but I'll DIE if you cancel HBO" years.

The last sign of something that I'd like everyone to consider is this: a very old woman about to get a pedicure with an extreme expression of delight on her face. This was seen in one of those typical manicure/ pedicure places that REEKS of chemicals. The workers in these places, all seemingly tiny seemingly Chinese women, usually wear white dust filtration masks. But no, not these workers! And their place is always full of customers, so they must get a LOT of exposure to chemicals. But this elderly white lady was not thinking about the chemicals. She was rubbing her bare feet together in plain view of the world, sitting right inside the plate glass window in the storefront. She looked right at me.. or was it through me? She was like a mannikin from a Twilight Zone episode, come to life and not yet fully clothed, plotting her next move as she waited for the chemically-resistant Chinese women to apply their Pedicure-from-Beyond. There was something renewing and yet oddly off-putting about this big white woman's wide anticipatory smile.

OK, back to the daily grind of waiting for the organization where I work to finally die.

My New Favorite Weirdness From The Land of the Rising Sun

I was shopping for a Hello Kitty tampon sorter (pencil cup, that is) as is my wont when I find myself in Chinatown-- this time in Oakland, where "China-town" is mostly Vietnamese and Korean people with plenty of Chinese and Japanese plastic oddities for sale, and what before my wondering eyes should appear but the merchandise promoting...

Pucca the tomboy and her eternal love Garu.

Of course I mistook Garu (the boyish one) for Pucca and assumed it was the story of a little butch dyke pursuing a little femme dyke. I swear you could not have convinced me that "Garu" was a "ninja." Or that the little girlie girl "Pucca" was a "tomboy."

Oh well, the sensation is over, but I still like the idea of the merchandising of a dyke-romance/ stalking situation. I mean every piece of Pucca/ Garu product says "A Funny Lovestory." What's funnier than a little cartoon butch carrying a sword stalking a little cartoon femme bathing herself in a jacuzzi (as is shown on one of the two tampon sorters-- uh, pencil cups-- that I bought for $2.75 each)?

Does Anyone Else Know That Iraq Passed an ERA and Ratified CEDAW? I Mean, Before the US Has?

I knew there was a reason I stopped listening to Laura Flanders' show on KALW in the morning--- it gets me all riled up before I'm even at my computer.

Today the amazing Ms. Flanders covered the issue of women's rights in Iraq.

I learned that years ago Iraq surpassed the US for supporting women's equal rights, at least on paper. In 1959 they passed a family law (Personal Status Law) considered one of the most progressive in the Middle East. It...

...protected women, favoring the woman as children's guardian in divorce cases. It also conditioned polygamy on the agreement of the first wife.

(according to Truthout.org.)

In other reading I see that it also protected the women from being divorced simply by the husband announcing three times that they were divorced. Also, women, if divorced, could stay in the house where they were living, and the husband would have to leave.


And now the US is helping them build a new constitution... and sift out the rights of women their old constitution protected. Women currently comprise 65% of the population (no doubt partly as a result of Hussein's external wars and internal security campaigns, expending the lives of more men than women). And while the two women appointed (by US officials) to the new Iraqi Interim Governing Council were out of the room, the council passed Resolution 137, a resolution which puts the slippery Islamic code of laws Sharia into force in place of previous family law, and so a resolution which...

...could give self-appointed religious clerics the authority to inflict grave human rights violations on Iraqi women, including denial of the rights to education, employment, freedom of movement and travel, property inheritance and custody of their children. Forced early marriage, polygamy, compulsory religious dress, wife beating, execution by stoning as punishment for female adultery and public flogging of women for disobeying religious rules could all be sanctioned if the Resolution is upheld.

...So says the NGO Madre in their statement opposing Resolution 137.

One of the people interviewed on the show was Yanar Mohammed, the founder of the Organization for Women’s Freedom in Iraq, who is currently receiving death threats for her public opposition to Resolution 137.

For some reason I can't find the Madre call for letters demanding her protection on the Madre website-- get the address for the US administrator in Iraq Paul Bremer and a sample letter here at the Occupation Watch website. You can also sign petitions in support of Yanar and against Resolution 137 here at the Iraqi Women's Rights Coalition website.

Now what is CEDAW and what does it mean that Iraq ratified CEDAW and the US didn't (and probably won't)? Iraq ratified CEDAW-- the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women, also called the International Treaty for the Rights of Women-- in 1986. They were one of the first countries to ratify it. The US has not and does not intend to ratify it. There are currently 175 ratifying states. CEDAW is not a panacea, but the fact that the US doesn't even want to show INTENTION of supporting global equal rights for women is truly shameful. We are the control freaks of the world, unwilling to sign any treaty or convention that might allow our citizens any rights above those supposedly guaranteed in our own national constitution. Now, it's not like Iraq was some haven of lavender-tinted feminist perfection, but according to Human Rights Watch, historically, Iraqi women and girls have enjoyed relatively more rights than many of their counterparts in the Middle East. And more rights, constitutionally, than women in the US! HRW continues-- "The Iraqi Provisional Constitution (drafted in 1970) formally guaranteed equal rights to women..."

Now where did we put our Equal Rights Amendment...? I remember seeing it around here somewhere...

The Equal Rights Amendment, first proposed in 1923, is still not part of the U.S. Constitution. 

(...says equalrightsamendment.org.)

Ah, yes, that's where we left it.

OK, So I Was Wrong--- There Wasn't Anything In There About Giving Up Your First-Born to Gavin Newsom

Here they are, in their officially scripted glory:

San Francisco City and County Marriage Vows
February 12, 2004

We are gathered herein the presence of witnesses for the purpose of uniting in
matrimony___________ and ________________

The contract of marriage is most solemn and is not to be entered into lightly, but thoughtfully and seriously with a deep realization of its obligations and responsibilities.

Please remember that love, loyalty and understanding are the foundations of a happy and enduring home.

No other human ties are more tender and no other vows more important than those you are about to pledge.

Please face each other and join hands.

Do you_____, take____________, to be your spouse for life?

Do you promise to love and comfort each other, honor and keep each other in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, for better or for worse and to be faithful to each as long as you both shall live?

Ring Ceremony

Place the ring on his/her finger and repeat after me to him/her.

I give you this ring in token and pledge of my constant faith and abiding love.

With this ring, I Thee wed (repeat)

Now that you have joined yourselves in matrimony, may you strive all your lives to meet this commitment with the same love and devotion that you now possess.

By virtue of the authority vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you,
spouses for life.

In All the Confusion...

A newlywed just posted this to a queer women's mailing list:

Was anyone on this list a deputy marriage commissioner at City Hall this past weekend, or does anyone know anyone who might have the text of the vows that were read during the ceremonies in City Hall? As we recapped this weekend, we realized that we can't remember them and we're wondering exactly what we agreed to!!

I suppose you didn't catch that part about giving the city your firstborn child, did you?

If You Want to Marry Your Dog, Please Keep It on the QT

I have made more notes on the big marriage fandango happening here in SF, but I can't remember where I put them at the moment... so I'll just share one thing: the stupidest anti-same-sex-marriage sign I have seen.

It was a photo on Yahoo News, a guy hiding his face behind the sign "I Want to Marry My Dog." (Oops-- they moved the photo.) First of all, who doesn't? And second of all, why are you telling us? Isn't that a little personal to share with the class?

In 1975 when a Boulder county clerk Clela Rorex issued a month's worth of marriage licenses to same-sex couples, someone else had the same overdisclosing impulse:

One outraged man came into town with his mare, Dolly, and asked Rorex to marry them. Her answer was no - at 8 years old, the horse was under age, she said.

That's from a nice interview with Clela in the SF Chronicle, by Suzanne Herel (Feb. 14, 2004).

Again, I say, who doesn't want to marry their horse-- honest, faithful, quiet, uncomplicated-- but really, people, it is oversharing to take your horse to the county clerk's office in hopes of a license.

Meanwhile, one of the weekend's best photographic depictions of gay newlywed joy: a bouncy butch on the city hall steps (Oops-- they moved the photo.).

And a few other stray thoughts while perusing the pictures of married people
If monogamous is being involved with only one woman, and you theoretically are in a negotiated/ open involvement, are you monogaflexible?

Good god in heaven, someone has devised a Tampon Angel Pattern.

I'm not sure what the effects of long-term unemployment might be on the craft-oriented individual: but for the grace of the gods, there may go I... to the feminine hygiene stash to get craft ideas...

The Funnest Civil Disobedience Ever

These are some scattered notes I made after returning from presiding over my friends' wedding (real wedding, legal, married, the whole 9) down at San Francisco city hall today.

---

Friday. I wear to work the velour leisure suit and plaid shirt: the mayor legalized marriage yesterday, why is THIS the day they call me to help preside over their (second) ceremony-- and their white and silver dresses make them a focus for the press-- I carry the train to cover my outfit

the injunction is denied across the street says the radio news reporter

lines of people like at the queer film festival-- cruising the line for friends-- down a long hall, through the rotunda area, over into the cafeteria, almost to the the back door into Civic Center-- red velvet rope-lined crowds of the merrily civil-disobedient

young and old, children in strollers

two men, 60-somethings, grey-haired & blurry-eyed, looked like they survived a lot / not expecting to survive to see this, no preparation, just "I do" and "I do" with a grey-bearded judge in black robes asking them to love and protect eachother as long as they both shall live, pronouncing them spouses for life under the top of the rotunda of city hall, hardly any witnesses, but everyone who saw in tears

the mayor throwing a reception for the whole city full of newlyweds. An enterprising chocolatier is handing out boxes of chocolate to the newlyweds as they came down the stairs, little red taffeta bags of chocolate to the attendings-- "you probably didn't have time to get a cake"

standing in line at the registrar's office -- someone jokes "what are you here for?" to the two women in matching white wedding dresses carrying bouquets-- I replied "where are the tax forms?"

Molly -- my old sexkitten acquaintance from the Coco Club/ Fairy Butch early days-- now a lawyer and marriage rights activist-- finally got to wear her dress for something other than a protest or a "domestic partnership" ceremony-- she and her little formal butch partner all over the front pages of every local paper (Phyl and Del not the most photogenic after 51 years together)

the Japanese mother on one knee adjusting her daughter's train, gilt on white, breathtakingly ornate, like an outtake of a scene in the Japanese Tea Garden under pink cherry blossoms, but instead in a swirl of people in city hall-- a heteronormative moment-- finally sensing within myself that "this is normal." I find myself cruising dress fashion and hairstyles.

a straight woman attending got on her cell to her mother-in-law, a dyke, to get down there and get married (they are open tomorrow for Valentine's Day)

the white 30-something short-haired woman hurrying barefoot across the shiny floor in a simple, short brown silk dress, carrying a bouquet of red rose buds, a child running behind her carrying a pair of high-heeled open-toed shoes

I see the butch bride standing for pictures is the drummer from the punk band "Frozen Chicken Patty," one of their attendings is a famous dominatrix... a dyke community moment on the steps of city hall, amidst reporters interviewing kids whose parents finally could get married

------ Other Unrelated Thoughts As I Perused the Gay Married People----
If heteroflexible are people not always just sleeping with other straight people, then are:
homoflexible- people not always sleeping with other homosexuals, and
biflexible- people not always sleeping with other bisexuals, and
transflexible- people not always identifying as other than their doctor-assigned-at-birth-gender?

My Latest Scheme for Self-Employment

Introducing:

Slam-o-Grams
"...for those not lucky enough to be dating a poet." (-- my girlfriend's idea, that slogan. Har har.)

Featuring...

Sinister performance poetry brought to your door to make your loved one's special day unforgettable.

Optional Features include...

A silent film in the background (i.e. a war documentary, or a Charlie Chaplin movie)

A conga drummer

Freestyling on the topic of your choice from our menu:
-- homelessness
-- methamphetamine addiction
-- public transport
-- codependency
-- sexual exploitation
-- high school reunions

    Have a Slam-o-riffic Day!

Please don't confuse my services with the valuable but VERY DIFFERENT Giantess Adrena's Slam-o-grams...

...where she wrestles the birthday boy (or girl) to the ground. [Says Adrena,] “I’m all dressed up in my wrestling suit. I turn my music on, grab the guy and belly bop him and I stuff his face in my boobs and I slam him with my pelvic pile-driver and knocker locker and then I put him on the floor and slam him. The finale is that I put them on the ground and sit on them and I spank their butt. I sit on their face, forwards or backwards. Then I put them in a headlock and hand the whip to their significant other.”

OK, There Wasn't Supposed to Be a Bra Under That Breast-Cup Thing

Teatgate takes another convoluted twist...

A Groovy Close-up of the Janet Jackson Panel of Shame

And Our Superbowl Champion is... Wait, it's a Photo Finish! It's Janet Jackson, By a Nipple!

No, really, it was a good game. I was so angry last year when I finally had a home team (the Raiders) going to the Superbowl and they acted like... well... I'm speechless, it was so shameful. It's like their mothers had all yelled at them that morning. Their hearts weren't in it. They handed the ball to Tampa Bay and curled up in the fetal position. But this year, the teams really struggled, and even the losers had oodles of fabulous (record-setting!) plays, like those super-hero-esque vertical leaps-- once even floating into a gazelle-like run/ touchdown. The teams were humble, they were earnest, they were playing good football.

The entire opening ceremony, and half-time show, however, were sickening stews of rancid Americana, with only one shining-- like a sun!-- moment. The tasteless cameo of Janet Jackson's fantastic nipple piercing. And then the commentators straining to not comment on it, since it was illegal for us to have seen what we so most certainly did see.

Boy do I prefer European TV... they don't pretend like the human female breast is all that. They have totally inured the poplace to the effect, grinding boobies into your face in the middle of morning yoga programs. They would rather shock you with the newest news about the US government breaking with UN protocol and then toppling other governments for breaking with UN protocol. That's the stuff Europeans think should be illegal.

OK, So Why This Reaction to the Word 'Velour,' People?

First of all, I don't know much about the word, or (ahem) how to spell it, apparently. But now my laserbeam of curiosity has been drawn to it. I have to know why all these negative semantics have been glued to the hapless word 'velour.'

Yes, it is a cheap knock-off of velvet. But so is velveteen, and you don't see people screwing up their faces when you say you've bought a velveteen leisure suit, now do you?

Just because I'm 46 work days away from a date with my green comfy chair and a navy blue velour leisure suit doesn't mean I'm going to turn into Archie Bunker.

(An aside: you want to know what Google spit up as one of the top-seeded hits for the search "archie bunker" + velour? "Jesus?: The Only 2000 Year Old Whore", a lovely little page by Thefucksociety.com.)

I notice that "velour leisure suit" is noted as a "funky trend" by a seller on eBay. It is a trend being accessorized by some of the most tasteful designers in the biz, too. Check out this hat, described by its creator-- "No leisure suit would be complete without this soft and funky lid."

So maybe it's not the word "velour" that sets people's teeth on edge. Maybe it's the combination of the cognitively-dissonant words "leisure" and "suit." Velour just tops it off, like the word "secret" in the phrase "secret army intelligence."

Speaking of army intelligence, I can't believe the genius that is Jon Stewart (of the Daily Show on Comedy Central). Last night he had Richard Pearle, a Gulf War II apologist (author of "How to Win the War on Terror"), on the show, and when he asked him if he thought we'd have gone to war even if we hadn't had faulty intelligence of WMD, Mr. Pearle said that we would have, since Hussein was operating in direct violation of UN directives. Jon LAUGHED OUT LOUD in HIS FACE. I have never seen him do that. Poor Pearle was so taken off guard that he started chuckling too, which was really creepy, like he was in on it that the excuse was a farce and wasn't it kind of funny. Jon laughed into the rhetorical question "*WHO* was in violation of UN directives? It's like saying we had to violate the UN's laws to protect it from the guy who violated its laws!" (my faulty memory's paraphrasing... but he said nearly exactly that) -- and then he started off in another direction of inquiry before the guy could get his footing. Wow, what a kung fu talk show moment. He had Richard Pearle KO'd in under four minutes. He stood and almost bolted off the set as soon as the music came up to end his interview.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm a little giddy about Jon Stewart today: my girlfriend, who refers to Jon as "my boyfriend," last night just gave me a pillowcase with Jon's face (downloaded from the graphic on his Comedy Central website) ironed-on to it (thanks to some eBay wingnut who sells custom iron-ons). Then I dreamt that he had me over to he and his wife's house and we bonded over having happy childhoods. It was a good night all around, in other words.

Now for you other Jon Stewart fans, here's a Daily Show commentary blog-- it's a safe space just for you and me.

How I'm Preparing for Unemployment

1. Building my meditation endurance up from 3 minutes-- for time-killing on those days when looking for a new job consists of watching the interminable construction going on in the alley I can see from my armchair to see if they need any help. And building the cat's endurance for future all-day laser-pointer marathons.

2. Stocking up on the staples: soup, aspirin, catnip.

3. Assessing the value of personal items for future sale on eBay.

4. Scheduling future volunteer time at a local kids' tutoring center (so I can get free access to DSL, a fax and photocopier).

5. Shopping for new radical hair color(s) at local slacker coffee shops.

6. Conditioning my cat to wake me up AFTER 9 am.

7. Stealing office supplies from my future ex-employer. (I mean more than usual.)

8. Renewing relations with sex worker friends who sometimes have interesting day-laborer opportunities.

9. Mapping out a daytime TV schedule of MASH, Law and Order and ER reruns.

10. Finally getting my first valour leisure suit. (Yes!)

Wait, I think this is a spoof...

But it did take me a minute to realize this isn't the blog of the Prime Minister of Australia.

This was the tip off:

Australia is like the place to be seen now. Like, not only is the President of the world George Bush coming here, so is the President of China, Hu Jintao. They have heaps in common, like they're both Presidents and neither were actually elected. So I rang up George to tell him, and I'm all, "Dude, Hu is coming here!" And he's all, "I give up, who's comin'?" And I'm all, "No, HU is coming!" and he goes, "I said I don't know, who's comin'?" And I go "Hu!" And he goes, "Yeah, I said I don't know, who?" And I go, "Hu's coming!" And he goes, "What? Who is coming? Ya'll gonna tell me?" And I go, "Hu Jintao, the President of China!" And he goes, "Who?"

George is such a kidder. Smart AND a sense of humor. He's so dreamy.

Lord of the Rings Fans Take Heed

I've been slacking on my blog lately due to Real Life Stress, but I always have time for LoTR Gay Slash Art, and LoTR characters' Very Secret Diaries, including that of Ringwraith Number 5, who saeth therein:

Day 1,001,107

V. close to nabbing Ringbearer tonight, but head Nazgul suffered attack of giggles while observing excessive cuddliness of Ringbearer and his three “companions.”

The Global Development Briefing Summary on Bam

IRAN: The oil-rich Gulf states Dec. 29 earmarked $400 million in aid for victims of Iran's earthquake, hours after the United Nations appealed for more money as it began assessing the damage. In Riyadh, Kuwaiti Finance Minister Mahmud Abdel Khaleq al-Nuri said the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states had agreed to send the aid. Meanwhile, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran's supreme leader, has pledged to rebuild the historic city of Bam, devastated by an earthquake Dec. 26, reports BBC online. The ayatollah visited the Silk Route city to tell people the Iranian leadership shared their sorrow at the deaths of some 22,000 people. Iranian authorities say tens of thousands of people are desperately in need of food, water and shelter after the most lethal quake in more than a decade. Up to 40,000 people may have been killed, 30,000 injured and 100,000 left homeless, according to a preliminary assessment. Up to 90 percent of all buildings in the city were significantly or totally damaged, a joint U.N. assessment team in Bam on Dec. 27 reported. With temperatures in the area falling below freezing at night, donations of tents and blankets were seen as essential to provide immediate relief.

Click here for the gritty details on the relief efforts from the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs.

The Iranian Red Crescent Society (IRCS) is the place to send your donations. E-mail bamdonate@rcs.ir for more information on donating to the work of the IRCS in Bam.

Stalking (and Swilling) Absinthe

I'm typing with some difficulty because of cuts on my fingers from driving my car after the driver's side windows had been broken in (the second break-in within as many months)-- glass and the perp's blood were all over the inside of the car, ew-- but also I'm typing with trouble because of...

Absinthe Distillee "Un Emile" from Pontarlier, France
68% alc. by vol., plus distilled wormwood and green anise.

Here are the descriptions from Absinthe Online:

Plain "Emile 68"-- "Emile Pernot 68 is a premium 68% abv absinthe traditionally made to a 19th century recipe by steeping Grand wormwood (Artemisia absinthium), green anise, fennel and other plants in alcohol and distilling the macerated charge in an absinthe still. "

Sapin-- (slightly greener/ more opaque than the plain) "As with Un Emile 68, this absinthe is made traditionally by steeping Grand wormwood (Artemisia absinthium), green anise, fennel and other plants in alcohol and distilling the macerated charge in an absinthe still. The colour is achieved naturally by soaking plants in the distillate. No oils or artificial colouring have been used and no star anise has been used to enhance the louche."

La Blanche-- "Un Emile 68 'La Blanche' is a clear absinthe made in the style of a Swiss La Bleue. La Bleue is highly sought after and is produced in clandestine stills throughout the Neuchatel region of Switzerland. Unfortunately, because of the illicit nature of the product, the quality and consistency cannot be guaranteed. Un Emile 68 'La Blanche' is the first la Bleue to be made commercially available."

Read "Drinkboy's" article on absinthe, with a link to an article on the history of the drink.

Your Agony

I know this is probably a really well-intentioned person-- and by the looks of his links list probably a refugee from the Islamic World working on getting sexual orientation-based asylum in Canada-- but you just can't imagine the restraint it is taking not to submit some wise-ass question on his "agony form."

Please go here and click on the link to YOUR AGONY (and the ever-lovin' graphic he attached to that thought). Let's see how YOUR self-restraint holds up.

He also has a "Gay & lesbian form" which I'm restraining myself from using.

On a Lighter Note

Reading Dave Barry's blog has many rewards, including a bad poetry conspiracy he launched before his 2003 summer vacation:

the Freemont poetry scheme begins, and


Poetry.com responds.

Bam, Gone

I am grateful to the earthquake that took 20,000 lives and 70,000 homeless only for this: my dear friend M. had already left Bam, two and a half weeks ago. He told me that the place he stayed when he visited Bam was highly recommended on Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree message board, because the proprieter Akbar always took people into his guest house as though they were part of his family.

His guest house was destroyed, he lost his son, and reportedly 18 other members of his family. One British tourist died in the guest house. The Bam citadel, carefully restored over the last thirty years, whose tourists were the basis of the local economy, is gone. This rural city, the first inside the border with Pakistan in a wide expanse of desert, has to rebuild from the dust.

Here is Lonely Planet's "The Thorn Tree" news about Akbar in Bam.

The Slacker Stalker Review of "Cowboy Bebop" (2003 theater release)

Well, my late night hours watching Adult Swim and the advice of a slacker friend has led to the renting of "Cowboy Bebop: The Movie" on DVD. Here are my thoughts:

Subtitles versus Overdub
I was advised-- on good authority-- to watch it with the English subtitles. At one point in the movie two characters tell the same story in two different conversations, alternating. In overdubbing, the one guy telling the story has a Middle Eastern accent. This is completely lost with the two (to me monotone and almost identical) Japanese voices telling the story, and the subtitles do not convey this artistic device at all-- they totally lost me. There are other places where the subtitles are sketchy, and even one place where I'm convinced they made a mistake, mixing up the names of two characters (Vincent for Spike, i.e. the antagonist and protagonist, a little confusing, yes?). So I'm forced to endorse the low-brow alternative to subtitles: the overdubbing not only gives you more plot information, but the jokes are culturally fine-tuned to actually be a little bit funny. And they deleted the villain's hokey Shakespeare misquote ("to die perchance to dream"), thank god.

Now, the usual breakdown:

The Lesbian Movie Standard (LMS)
Well, sadly, Electra and Faye, the sexy babes in the movie, don't have a scene together. They don't actually even MEET. But the wonderful androgyne hacker girl Edward has a few scenes with Faye where they are discussing (well, as much as Edward can "discuss" in her insane chirp-sing-talk) the facts of the case. This movie exceeds the minimum for the LMS: at least one conversation between two female characters about something other than a man-- a minimum that most US blockbuster movies (ahem, Lord of the Rings, ahem) don't even come close to meeting. This movie is definitely lesbian-friendly. And this lesbionic type can't stop wondering what the hell is holding up Faye's short-shorts-- are those suspenders? And if so, what are they attached to on top? Her nipples?

The Jesus Figure
Of course, Spike Spiegel, the protagonist. But interestingly, also our chaotic ex-army girl Electra! Spike has his near-death experience in the river and some confusing non-plot-promoting pseudo-Native-American weirdness is clearly supposed to be a spiritual enlightenment redemption thingy, making him want to live to be a better person or something. He then seems to "owe a favor" to the antagonist (he repays that favor... by trying to kill him later--?). So that's our one Jesus. But at the climax, Electra is prepared to sacrifice her life to save the world from the dastardliness that is the anti-hero Vincent, and he spares her. She is redeemed. He remembers loving her and says that their time together was the only time he was alive. We have our two Jesuses.

The moral of the story is revealed by Vincent: reality is subjective, and only love makes life real, really really real. Wasn't this the moral of The Matrix too? Oh well, at least the characters are original. OK, Edward is original. Ein, the intelligent (but thankfully NON-TALKING) Welsh Corgi is also original. I love Ein.

OK, this leads us to... (drumroll)...

The Gay Figure
The winner is: Jet! The big-burly-partly-synthetic henchman type who lives in the Bebop, makes sure everyone is fed, and tries to impart wifely/motherly wisdom to Spike (whom he clearly loves - um- like Samwise loves Frodo, if you know what I mean). He is so gay. Gay gay gay. His only action scene (after the opening convenience store heist) is when he yells at Ein for moving a chess piece. Ein whines a little and lowers his head: Jet pets him gently, showing deep remorse for scaring his cute little dog. Gay! The scenes with Jet and Ein and Edward are my favorites.

Except for that neat little bondage sequence with Faye... while she rolls around I could almost see whence those suspenders and what they suspend... but the movie has an R rating and not an NC-17 rating-- the tiny yellow shirt miraculously clings like butter where it touches her skin, and not one suspender button is revealed.

Oh, and a special mention for the opening credits sequence of cityscapes: that could be its own movie, it is so exquisitely rendered and set to music.


Read more about "Cowboy Bebop: The Movie" at Metacritic.

More from Dave Barry's Blog

I can't believe this is real, it is so fabulous.

"Barbie would ... be tired of Microsoft's licensing bullshit."

A Light at the End of the Tunnel: Dave Barry Has a Blog

And you can read it HERE. He is also a Blogspot/ Blogger patron, like me.

I am finding this a comfort after a couple of difficult weeks, being continuously sick with a cold I picked up at the end of November, and now treating myself to a $4 Marie Callender's turkey/ cranberry frozen dinner, only to discover that it really is "cranberry," as in ONE CRANBERRY, sliced into thirds, with a lot of instant potatoes and some turkey.

I look forward to taking out my aggressions on wrapping presents tonight.

Haven't You Ever Wondered Who Invented Clumping Cat Litter?

I have. I thought to myself: "this invention has improved my and my cat's life immeasurably, and I think it has been invented in my lifetime!" And I was right, since it was invented in 1976.

So who invented it? William Mallow, about whom I found the following tidbit:

2002 Honorary Unsubscribe Recipients: "4 August 2002's honorary unsubscribe went to William A. Mallow. A polymer chemist at the Southwest Research Institute, Mallow enjoyed working on practical problems. He showed M&M-Mars how to keep peanut butter from gunking up the molds at M&M candy factories. He helped Bette Nesmith Graham (mother of 'The Monkees' guitarist Michael Nesmith) perfect the formula for her invention, 'Liquid Paper'. He consulted on projects from Space Shuttle protective tiles to fake dinosaur skin -- and invented clumping cat litter. Mallow retired from SwRI in 1998, but continued to dabble in materials: most recently, he worked on the 'Mobility Denial System' -- a slippery spray that could be used to disable enemy troops without injuries or deaths. He died July 30 in San Antonio from leukemia. He was 72. "

I, for one, would love to see the videotapes of the practice sessions with the "Mobility Denial System."

According to the CBS News obit the "Mobility Denial" gel spray was due for introduction into use by the US military this year. Why don't we see this kind of footage on CNN? Is the enemy laughing too hard in those shots, as US tanks spin out on their own anti-mobility gel?

All This And Newsom Too

Well, I am almost back to health, and my cat is starting to express her affection in a less clingy way. That's the good news. The bad news is that Gavin Newsom is now mayor of San Francisco, the organization where I work is falling apart (3 people left of the 15 or so we had a year ago), I'm still horribly jetlagged from the two week gallop through the Balkans, I've had about $1500 in unexpected expenses on my car in the last few weeks (a parking ticket, a break-in, a brake & CV joint job), the vacuum cleaner's motor belt broke, and did I mention that Gavin Newsom won the mayorship of the city where I spend most of my time? San Francisco is in for a doozy of a time. That slick, two-faced Republocrat is going to make Willie Brown look like a regular mayor-of-by-for-the-people.

Meanwhile, I have read that the Greeks have the opinion that Macedonians are "violent, boorish, and great drinkers." I had SUCH a bad time with the Greeks, who were at LEAST boorish, while the Macedonians I met were all perfectly reasonable. They have a very, very wrecked economy, and everyone apparently carries guns because the country is so unsafe, but I *STILL* felt Macedonia was more friendly than Greece, to me. Something happened to the Greeks. I think it was the Turks.