Walking on a Winter Evening

It is between 4:30 and 5 pm. Just ten days after the winter solstice the sun has set but it is still light. The sun was bright today and melted a lot of the snow. Now as evening is coming on the cold is rising fast. I am walking Rocinante down a lane lined with white pines.

It has been an eventful Christmas season. Altisdora graduated from MU. Cardenio visited from Tempe and we have just returned from a Christmas trip to Barataria to see family.

It is good to be back home. I realize now why I had grown not to like winter. There was not enough snow. This year with several nice snowstorms passing through it is like the winters that I remember. White and cold. When the weather clears the air is piercingly clean.

I would like to leave you with a link to my favorite Robert Frost poem. I wish everyone a Happy New Year.

Autumn Weather v1.0

It may not be autumn by the calendar but it is now beautiful fall weather. It has just turned the last two days, turned from a summer of heat and unbearable humidity with little rain to sunshine crisp days in the upper seventies and the fifties at night. The trees are still green and the grass is brown from lack of rain. But yesterday we turned off the air conditioner, hopefully for the year and opened windows. Although we had to sleep in the north bedroom, a cool breeze blew in all night.
The city had repaired the sidewalk on the east side of the house earlier in the summer; they finally returned and planted grass seed which we have to water each day. The catch basin that collects the run-off from our subdivision is very low, at most only a few feet deep. The algae laden surface has given way to tall aquatic weeds that are blooming. The banks are growing up with willows and tall grasses. It actually looks natural. Probably as soon as the homeowners association sees it looking so nice they will insist on ripping it out and lay more concrete.
Now that fall is almost upon us, this short interval between the heat of summer and the barren cold of winter will give me a little respite to do some late season boating, camping and bicycling.

First Friday Review

Why First Friday Sucks
And
Is Destined to Die


INDEX KEY
BEFORE: The many times I have visited the crossroads on a First Friday promotion night.
AFTER: September, 8, 2007

Before: Lots of exotically weirdo people on the street. Men in prom dresses, women with pancake makeup and pinafores... What I call the artsy fartsy crowd. It was people worth associating with.
After: They all look like they just drove in from Johnson County, Kansas.


Before: The weirdest, most bizarre “art” I have ever seen. Who could even think of this?
After: Sofa paintings.

Before: A leisure martini at the City Tavern bar, followed by oyster stew, a dozen raw oysters on the half shell and a bottle of good red wine.
After: Can’t serve “food” at the bar on first Fridays.

Note: Go fuck yourself. The same little ferret of a bartender that has served me for years and gladly taken my big tips: take this last tip and stuff it up your ass.

Addendum Note to Whom Runs City Tavern:
You need to get fresher fish. In fact you need fresh everything. Getting the fish off Price Choppers frozen shelf just isn’t a fresh catch. I could have opened a can of Campbell’s fresher than the chowder you served me.

The End of Summer

Summer is ending and it is time to get back to school.

I have returned after a summer of total debauchery in which I completely over indulged in hedonism and failed to accomplish any of the professional goals that I had set for myself. Now back to the rat race again.

However I am glad to be back even though I hate to see the summer end and I didn’t reach any of my goals that I set for myself. It always feels good to begin a new year. I like beginnings. The goals ahead for this term are the usual to do the best at my professional job and outside of my job to lead a more active and positive life to explore the world.

Blogging wise I will try to hone my writing skills. Posting more often hopefully with more authenticity and interest. Something someone may want to read?

And photography has always been a hobby of mine and I would like to get more involved.

Here is to a great year!

NFL to Add Sensitivity Training during Half-time Huddles

“It is only fitting that the NFL suspend itself”, said Wayne Pacelle, president and CEO of The Humane Society of the United States. "They are now a role model for something terrible, and it's not appropriate that anyone suit up in an NFL uniform."

According to the latest figures from the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia 120 human-beings died last season from direct football activities and over 11,000 sustained life threatening injuries resulting in permanent disability.” If you consider the violence surrounding the barbaric game of football”, the Human Statistics for Reality “estimates that over 1.2 million people are involved in a violent act directly related to football each year.”

It is reported that major sponsors, such as Nike, Red Bull, Cocaine, Plasma is You and The Orthopedic Surgeons of America have dropped sponsorship of the blood sport.

When Commissioner Roger Goodell was asked about the violence surrounding professional football he responded, “We are now justifiably facing consequences for the decisions we made and the conduct in which we engaged. Our careers, freedom and public standing are now in the most serious jeopardy," Goodell said. "I hope that we will be able to learn from this difficult experience and emerge from it better prepared to act responsibly and to make the kinds of choices that are expected of conscientious and law abiding citizens."

Also contacted was former Atlanta quarterback Michael Vick who recently accepted a plea bargain for being associated with fighting dogs. He said, “Damn, if I’d only put a helmet on’m and a jersey with numbers I could’a been the next commissioner of the DFL.”

Preliminary Report

Minnesota Bridge Problems Uncovered in 1990
By SHARON COHEN and BRIAN BAKST, Associated Press Writers. With additional support and embellishments by EL QUIJOTE; Jimmy Crack Corn Press Syndicate.

Questions about the cause of the collapse and whether it could have been prevented arose Thursday as authorities shifted from rescue efforts to a grim recover operation, searching for bodies that may be hidden beneath the river’s swirling currents.

In 1990, the federal government gave the I-35W Bridge a rating of "structurally deficient" citing significant corrosion in its bearings. The bridge is one of 77,000 bridges in that category nationwide, 1,160 in Minnesota alone.

White House press secretary Tony Snow said while the inspection didn't indicate the bridge was at risk of failing, "If an inspection report identifies deficiencies, the state is responsible for taking corrective actions."

When Snow was pressed further about the recent funding cuts for maintenance of the Federal Interstate Highway System as mandated by President Bush’s recent, “Operation: We Need Another Bomb for Iraq” program. Snow reminded reporters in his daily briefing (mostly for Fox Network, the only journalists other than Helen Thomas that are still allowed to attend White House briefings) that it is “a new world since 9-11”. He put forth the idea that even if 77,000 bridges collapsed, with an average loss of life of five as reported in Minneapolis, it would still be a pittance to the several thousand that were incinerated in the Iraqi attack on the World Trade Center.

Gov. Tim Pawlenty responded Thursday and said the state was never warned that the bridge needed to be closed or immediately repaired. He therefore ordered all bridges in the state with similar designs to be closed. This was closely followed by most other Governors in the Midwest also ordering similar bridges to be closed for safety reasons until extensive inspections could be completed.

Republican Governor Matt Blunt of Missouri decided not to close any bridges in his state due to how it may affect the needs of interstate transportation. Missouri has an exceptionally high number of Federal Interstate Highway System miles, including Interstates 70, 44, 29 and 35 which transact Missouri east to west and north to south. There are also a large number of bridges similar to the Minnesota design, as both the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers are boundaries of the state.

Governor Blunt, when pressed about the possible dangers to the public, declined to answer referring all questions to the Head of State Highway Transportation, Jimmy Hoffa.

However, after the Governors of Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, Nebraska, Oklahoma and Arkansas all closed bridges to Missouri that could be accessed from their states. Gov Blunt delivered a letter to the Springfield (MO) Daily Republican newspaper stating, “My daddy is the Minority Whip in the House of Representatives, Congressman Roy Blunt, Jr., and he called me and told me it would look really bad on President Bush if I did anything as irrational as closing down the Federal Highway Interstate System just because of very tiny public safety concerns".

Governor Blunt also stated that Vice President Richard B. Cheney called him shortly after the
Governor's telephone conversation with his his father and stated, "I have a contingency plan to move in Halliburton contractors on a no-bid contract basis that would be very beneficial to the taxpayers of Missouri. I can have those mother-fucking bridges up and running in days".

When Gov. Blunt expressed concern about the national implications of so rapid a recovery, Vice President Cheney (popularly known as “The Dick”) felt that he could fool President Bush into signing executive orders tonight for rapid repair of all interstate bridges. Cheney said, “All I have to mention is 9-11, God and money in the same sentence; the idiot can't even balance his own check book, much less grasp the financial aspects of a whole country.”

Part Two: Back in Town

The summer weeks are passing fast. Last weekend Dulcinea and I did Zona Rosa on Thursday night. We went for Mexican food at Abuelo’s Mexican Food Embassy. There isn’t a lot that can be done with Tex-Mex unless you hit the mom and pop places. It is essentially the battle of the chains. Abuelo’s is good Mexican chain food.

Late Friday night I was craving Kansas City bar-b-que, some good blues and cold beer. So we headed out to one of the best roadhouses in Kansas City, BB’s Lawnside BBQ. Yes, there is better bar-b-que, bb’s always seems a little overcooked and the sauce could be improved. But you can’t find a better place that blends the essence of Kansas City. Try the Abita Amber, a New Orleans beer that lets you feel the soul of the south. Gary “Alaska” Sloan (from Arkansas) did a great job of bringing down the house with his harmonica, singing and theatrical joy.

Saturday I had to work on finishing an article. But I took off early for dinner at Milano in Crown Center. It had changed since my last visit, with a much smaller menu which seems for the best. I recommend Ravioli Alla Creama Di Trartufo. I’m not one for white sauces, but this sweet, salty dish with a touch of truffles was excellent. The wine list is also limited but if you like reds I recommend the Banfi Col Di Sasso Sangiovese, Toscana. It is a great taste for a small price. Sangiovese is the same grape that is used in Chianti but it doesn’t have that alum taste.

We finished off the night at The American Heartland Theater with Bunk-Bed Brothers. It was closing night.

Sunday was sleep in time.

The Lady is Back in Town

Dulcinea arrived back in Kansas City after her summer sojourn to Minnesota. I picked her up at the airport on Thursday evening and we turned the weekend into a mucho dinero burning goodtime.

On the way from the airport we checked out the Zona Rosa. The first time for me. Yeah, it's okay, but a bit too sterile and pre-fab, sort of like Johnson County. I prefer the diversity and spontaneity that I find in the City.

It reminded me of a visit to the Homer Dome in Minneapolis years ago, before the advent of the Homer hanky and excitement in Minnesota Twins baseball. It felt as if I was at a tea party; polite applause was the emotion of the afternoon. The stadium was clean, air conditioned, most of the fans looked of Swedish or Norwegian ancestry. The concession stand employees were the same type of geriatrics you see at Wal-Mart as greeters and bussing tables at McDonalds.

Later that summer I went to a Cardinals day game in St. Louis. It was hot and humid. People were black and white. Rabid fans were hysterically cheering for favorite players and applauding even mediocre plays. And there was that sometimes embarrassing silence or even booing of the opposition. There were big, sweaty Budweiser concessionaire’s working the stands humping along huge drums of iced-down beer yelling out in their almost musical way, “Get your Bud here, ice cold Bud here!” Sometimes you can still hear them in the background of a radio game. Now that was a ballgame.

Who is Ugly Betty?

Who is Ugly Betty? What is Ugly Betty? Where can I get more? I know I’m showing my age but I feel like a caveman that just woke up in a new world. Only yesterday the chic answer to, “do you watch TV?” was, “I wouldn’t be caught dead”.

Now the webpockets are aglow with reviews of what happened when, where, on what channel, at what time. Real or guerilla advertising. Who is to know? Whom? Is Britney wearing underwear? Near riots over the cancellation of Veronica Mars?

Should I realign myself with my Grandpa that sat glued to the TV every Sunday night as not to miss “The Ed Sullivan Show”?

The worse are the “reality” shows. Okay, I did watch the first season of Survivor, but it was my first season in Kansas City. I knew no one. I was a shy kid from the neither lands. I got a life, why can’t they?

However, if I could make a living out of watching TV (or internet video) and writing about it would I love Ugly Betty too? Major newspapers and blogs devote themselves to celebrative culture. (See Slate, Salon, Comcast). To think what great hope we had for the internet. Now corporate America, and us, is turning it into a cesspool of voyeurism of want-to-be people.

Please let me know the results of Paris Hilton’s tantrums. I am waiting breathlessly.

34th Annual Hospital Hill Run

As usual I’m a week late in taking this blog to press.

Last Saturday morning, June 2nd, I ran…err...okay…mostly walked in my first ever Hospital Run. I did the 5k. I had first thought about doing it when I received an email at school asking if I wanted to get on their training schedule. I said yes and then talked Dapple and a friend from Columbia into competing with me.

Of course I never got around to training, I just read the emails. So my goal was to finish within the time that you had to do to get a participation medal. Yes, I wanted that medal.

The week before the race Dapple pulled up lame while training on a six mile run. So she decided just to do the walk/run with me. I am happy to report that her training mate finished in the top twenty and Dapple and I both finished in time to get those medals. In fact, I had so much reserve that once I topped the last uphill stretch and it was all downhill I could have went faster. But we were enjoying the event so much that we had already decided to make it an annual thing. Our goal would be to beat our previous year’s time. So I decided to keep on pace as to not to get next years goal to high. How is that for a slackers reasoning.

If you have never ran the Hospital Run I highly recommend it. It was a very festive atmosphere. They even fed us pancakes after the race. As with most endeavors it has its own atmosphere, its own type of crowd, which was great fun to watch. It was definitely a healthier crowd than with I normally hang-out. More energy bars and bottled water and less bar-b-que sandwiches and bottles of beer

The highlight of the morning was seeing an Iraqi vet, Sergeant Bruce Dunlap, finish the race. He had ran the race five previous times, and was wounded this winter in Iraq. After being released from Walter Reed on Friday he came to Kansas City to compete in a wheelchair on Saturday. His courage and bravery was overwhelming and had nothing to do with politics other than to magnify the false bravado of our President’s ridiculous decision to invade Iraq.

An Odd Way to Make a Charitable Contribution

As previously posted, last Saturday Dulcinea and I thought we would take in a film at the Tivoli Theater in Westport. We had a late lunch/early supper at La Fonda El Taquito on Southwest Blvd. One of my favorite Westside eateries. You can’t fail with the fresh tamale or the chorizo and potato enchilada.

When we arrived at Westport in the early evening, we spotted groups of people in various colored t-shirts. Every person in the group had the same color and each group had a different color. We couldn’t read what the shirts said from our car because the script used was very flowery (they should have used Helvetica).

The street in front of the Tivoli was closed off so we had to park a few blocks away. As we walked through the crowd we discovered the t-shirts said “Crawl for Cancer”. 20 Pitchers, 10 People, 5 Bars, 1 Perfect Day. It seems we were in the middle of a charitable event.

Most of the donors looked very young and many were very drunk. It is sometimes difficult to appreciate the humor of drunks when you yourself are not inebriated. Such as the two women behind us who were pissed-off and yelling about the shabby treatment they received on the plaza when they were not allowed to come in off the street to use the restaurant restroom. Actually, pissing in the street seemed to be a popular past time. Some couples seemed about to fornicate, while others were very angry and bitching at each other. There were several crying drunks, and a few humorous characters. Emotions were running high.

All in all, getting drunk out of your mind seems to be a strange way to make a charitable contribution to curing cancer. However, Fidel’s, the cigar store in Westport seemed to take it all in stride. This is the sign they had out in front of their store.

On The Way Back

On the way back from the Ozarks last weekend I decided to take an indirect route back to Kansas City through Columbia and visit a few old friends still at Mizzou. I also stopped off in Jefferson City at the Capitol Building to get a good view of the Muddy Missouri in flood stage.When I arrived in Columbia at mid-afternoon I had forgotten it was graduation weekend and the campus was packed with new graduates, spouses and parents. I made my way over to the MU Bookstore at Brady Commons because I knew they would be having some end-of-the-year discounts. I can’t walk into a bookstore without buying an armful of books, and when there is a sale on I have to lock my credit card in the car. I was so proud of myself, I only bought three books. One on German settlements in Missouri and two travel books.

While I was in the travel section a student walked in and was looking for the Lonely Planet travel guide that covers Mexico and Central America. The clerk said they did not have it but could order it for him. However, he was leaving the country the next day.

As I have traveled in Central America, I struck up a conversation. He and a friend were planning to tour for the three month summer hiatus. They were flying to Mexico and after exploring some of the Yucatan they were going on to Cuba for a month. After that they had no definite plans except visiting friends in Guatemala. He wanted to go on to Belize and was thinking about Ambergris Caye. Was I ever envious; I wish I had the time, the money and the chutzpah to do that.

It was a hot, sunny afternoon and I had not eaten all day. I met my friends at Booches bar/pool hall for a cheeseburger and ice cold Michelob Light draught beer. When in Columbia make it a goal to have a cheeseburger from Booches, considered by many to be on the world’s best. A perfect ending to a perfect lazy day, only the two hour drive back to Kansas City remained.

A Short Visit

Last week was the break between the end of spring semester clinic and the beginning of summer clinic. Saturday May 5th was graduation and the faculty and students all got to put on their caps and gowns and act like we actually know something about life.

Afterwards I took a few days to visit my father in southern Missouri. I’ve written about him before. He is very old and still lives by himself on twenty acres just outside of a small town in the Ozarks. I hesitate finding the time to go visit, I don’t know why because I always come away invigorated and feeling much better about life in general.

We get up early and drink coffee while watching the menagerie of song birds, retiles and small animals that keep him entertained out his backdoor. I also find myself catching up on world happenings. He takes the daily paper and reads it front to back. He catches the early local news, the national news and then “The News Hour with Jim Lehrer”.

Mid-afternoon we waited out a sudden spring thunderstorm at the local VFW drinking a couple of cold draft beers. That evening for supper we cooked up a few fish that I had caught that morning in the pond, along with grilled pork chops and baked potatoes. After listening to the St. Louis Cardinals game on the radio (he NEVER misses a game) we called it a night.

The next morning I had to return to Kansas City.

Two Recommendations

I have been thinking philosophically about my life of late and have been enjoying it more. It started when I read the novel Water for Elephants written by Sara Gruen. If it is not already a bestseller it soon will be.

If you are a mystery lover that needs high-caliber excitement with surprise endings, you won’t care for this book. If you need deep intellectual obtuse writing, you won’t like this book. If you like books that are extremely well written, have an entertaining story that is hard to put down, and the author uses wonderful technique, then this may be the book for you. Without ruining anything about the story I can tell you it is about an old man in a nursing home that keeps remembering back to his youth, during the depression, when he ran away with the circus. That may sound boring, but I promise you there is more life in this book than anything I have read in a long time.

Just after finishing the book Water for Elephants Dulcinea and I went to the Tivoli Theater Saturday night to watch the film, The Namesake. We almost went down to the plaza to see one of the “blockbusters” playing at the local theater chain. But as I couldn’t remember much about the first Spiderman and never saw the second Spiderman I didn’t feel like doing Spidy III. And I’m so glad we went back to Westport.

The Namesake is a simple, beautifully told story about a family. A love story if you will, between husband and wife, parents and children. A love story between cultures and between countries. I recommend this film.

I think perhaps I was a little too busy last semester and became a little lost. I lost sight of what I wanted out of life, misplaced some of my priorities and made myself a bit too alone. After a few weeks off, relaxing, being around friends and family, reading the book and seeing the film I recommend above I now feel better balanced.

I find it strange and wonderful that just when I needed balance it came to me. I don’t know why it happened, perhaps because I was seeking without acknowledging that I had a need. But it did come, in the least expected forms, and I won’t complain about that.

Helvetica (the film): A Review

Do you know what font you are using right now? If you are on a Mac the default is Helvetica. Microsoft uses a clone called Arial. (Isn’t that typical of MS to take a classic and fuck it up just enough to call it their own?)

I went to a documentary film several weeks ago about a famous typeface (a font to computer users) called Helvetica. I promised several friends that I would tell them about the film, being the procrastinator that I am I way ahead of schedule.

The typeface Helvetica was created in Switzerland fifty years ago as the ultimate modern type and survives today on many corporate logos, street signs, and most any where that needs easy to read, clean instructions. And now, in the hands of several young avant-garde graphic designers it is being reborn all over again.

How boring can an hour and a half film be about something we see everyday and to which we never pay attention? (Or so we think.) Damn interesting, thanks to the skills of the veteran documentary producer and director Gary Hustwit. And where else, except the Tivoli would you expect to see a lot of techno-nerds buying popcorn and coke to see a documentary film?

Who comes to see a movie about a typeface? There were old people, one had silver-blue hair, and another even had an oxygen bottle. The majority were late twenty, early thirty somethings. A lot of the guys had the spiked Ty Bennington look alike hair.
Women were more business like. Lots of horn-rimmed glasses. Many of the crowd came as groups of employees of graphic design firms. The pre-reality art crowd (aka KCAI) that you see on First Fridays was mercifully missing.

It was a tech savvy crowd. Before the film began the dim light of the theater was aglow with the light of cell phone screens. Almost like a den of fireflies. Of course everyone was multi-tasking on their phone while talking to the person next to them.

As to the film? It was a documentary. So please don’t look for a climatic ending. It had an “in your face cinematography” (overheard on the way out; “I can’t believe how yellow their teeth were.”). Seriously, the film allowed the top graphic designers of the last fifty years to tell us how they have used, abandoned and re-used the type Helvetica. For many there is a love/hate relationship with this typeface.

That is what makes Helvetica a good film. In unscripted interviews we get to see the raw personalities of people that have, unknown to many of us (at least to me), dominated our visual culture for years. Some of the graphic artist are hilarious, some primadonas, most egotists, and once in a while a nice person. Meet the people that have been influencing (and will continue to) our lives with a tool called print. And for the last 50 years many times that print has been Helvetica.

Post Script.
How do you pronounce Helvetica? I was totally surprised to find that Americans use a soft a, as Hell vat a ca. The Europeans use hard vowels, Hell ve te ca.

Post Post Script.
Did you know that the American Airlines logo, still in use today was one of the first corporate logos to be designed using Helvetica? And it was the first to merge words…. AmericanAirlines.

An especial thank you to: memyi

Hallelujah!!

Finals are over!
And you that have to take them think you have it tough? Just try to give one. Do you know how difficult it is to write a good test question? A question that doesn’t have half the class down of you after the exam whining, “You didn’t talk about that in lecture.” and then crying, “That wasn’t fair. Kill the bastard!” I wish I had an unlisted email.

I would like to say:
No, I didn’t lecture on it, but yeah, it was in the readings. So read the fucking reading assignments next time! I can’t believe your audacity. You are in professional school you little spoiled shit. What do you want? A pud exam that all of you can make an A on? And then bitch because you are so much better than him but you still got the same grade. Grow up, take the fucking iPod out of your ears and listen to the world.

Thank you for listening. I just had to blow off a bit of steam. The students of today are the best I have ever taught. They are brilliant, diverse, and have wonderful personalities. But they are so fucking demanding.

And they say the new “millennials “are even worse.

Oh well, thank you for letting me vent. Bring them on!

(Sorry about all the explanation points!)

The MisAdventures of El Quijote

or
The Quest of One Member of the Sub-Prime Generation to Restore Himself to Health, Wealth and Intellectual Curiosity

I know none of you asked for this but here it is anyway. The latest info on my quest to do something besides work, eat and sleep.

Sunday
This morning was a true spring day, warm and sunny with a delightful breeze. I decided to begin my goal of eventually biking the Katy Trail by riding a bit of Kansas City’s Little Blue Trace. Dulcinea wanted to go, and as she had been out of commission with a broken foot since late winter, we decided to try only six miles. We made it. It was beautiful.

Species recognized: Wild phlox, cow pasley, red-wing blackbird, Canada geese, and soft-shell turtles (sunning themselves).

Saturday night I kicked off the intelligentsia portion of my quest by seeing Jean Renoir’s 1939 film masterpiece, “The Rules of the Game”. There I sat in the Tivoli watching a black and white French film with English sub-titles. I loved it; I left the theater more satisfied than I have from many recent films. And it did stimulate the evening’s conversation. The only downside was the woman behind me that had a difficult time recognizing the mood of the film. She kept laughing even when the film turned from comic to tragic. But then again, maybe she understood the French language and was picking up nuances I wasn’t. However, I don’t think so.

A Modern Day Variant

A Modern Day Variant

Sung to: Give Peace a Chance
By John Lennon and Paul McCartney

Two, one, two, three four
Everybody’s talking about
Baghdad, Gonzales, Al Sadar
Seung-Hui Cho, Virginia Tech
This-ism that-ism, ism, ism, ism
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance.

C’mon
Everybody’s talking about
That creepy, blank-eyed loner
Writing so psychotic that students
Discussed when he would shoot up the school.
Make believe-ism, for TV-ism, I wish I could remember-ism.
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance.

Let me tell you now,
An angry parent said.
“My God, if someone shoots somebody there should be an immediate lockdown of the campus. They totally blew it, the President blew it, and campus police blew it." He said about his first year daughter who was not on campus at the time.
Regulation, Interrogation,
Flagellation, Masturbation, United Nations,
All we are saying in give peace a chance.
All we are saying in give peace a chance.

Let’s show the whole world
Our suffering and grief
It is to intense to keep inside
Let’s have a bonfire, prep rally for the dead.
The somber event surprised everyone by ending exuberantly when poet Nikki Giovanni yelled out, "We are Virginia Tech!" and thousands in attendance began clapping and chanting, "Let's Go, Hokies!"
Why not-ism… we have a hell of a football team-ism.

Into the sewer
A gun-rights advocate said yesterday that if Virginia Tech students and employees had been armed they would have been able to defend themselves against the rampaging kill.
Has he been to war-ism, ever saw a dead person-ism
Listenin’ to too much talk radio-ism
Anne Coulter and Sean Hannity-ism
All we are saying in give peace a chance.
All we are saying in give peace a chance

The End

And now we must become human again. .
“He has made the world weep. We are living a nightmare,"
said Seung-Hui Cho’s sister.

“We pray for their families and loved ones who are experiencing so much excruciating grief. Each of these people had so much love, talent and gifts to offer, and their lives were cut short by a horrible and senseless act." Sun-Kyung Cho

Please proceed to.

Imagine
“Imagine all the people
Living life in peace.”
John Lennon

Cleaning out the Attic v2.0

While cleaning out the dark recesses of my computer in a futile effort to increase the speed of downloading I came across bits and pieces of various things I had written. Even though most are out of date I just couldn’t part with some without giving them the light of day.

Decompression
At the end of each work week I hurry home to do all the things I need to do (mow the lawn, wash dishes, finish the taxes, etc.) so I will have time to do the things I think I want to do (bicycling, boating, hiking) and end up doing the things I usually do (sleeping in, visiting the local pub, organizing).

And example of what I really do.
I had a doctor’s appointment this morning at 8am. I had to fast because they were taking blood. I called it changing my oil, but the nurse didn’t even laugh. It sort of sucks when the patient is happier than the staff. However, if I don’t get my blood pressure and the “bad” triglycerides down she is going to load me with medications to do it for me. So I begged off for three more months. I promised to exercise, lose weigh, and eat healthy…. and write a novel, be awarded the Nobel Prize, and win the lottery.

After my appointment I stopped by McDonald’s to get coffee ….okay. And I loaded up on a sausage with egg biscuit.

Now that I am back home, according to my new atomic clock that always tells the correct time, it is now afternoon. So I just pop the top on a Cerveza del Pacifica as I cook the bacon for my BLT.

This leads into a previous piece.

Procrastination
How many ways can I procrastinate. Let me count the ways.
I am always late. Give me a minute and I will take two.
An early assignment and I will save it until the very last moment.
A test? I always wait until the night before to cram.
Check the oil. I’d rather let it run dry.
Paint my house. Not until I see dry rot.

How long can a procrastinator procrastinate? As long as possible.
I once read that people that are always late are trying to draw attention to themselves. I don’t believe that at all. I think I’m just trying to avoid being seen. (Update: 20% of the
American population is chronically late)

Now that I’m responsible for others I have been trying very hard to be on time. But I have found that having such a terrible history of being late is still ingrained in me. Even when I am on time, even ahead of time, I still get that late feeling. Maybe I’m addicted to the adrenaline rush I needed all along just to get things done.

Cleaning out the Attic v1.0

While cleaning out the dark recesses of my computer in a futile effort to increase the speed of downloading I came across bits and pieces of various things I had written. Even though most are out of date I just couldn’t part with some without giving them the light of day.


Cuban Baseball vs. Right to Free Expression

A few years ago while visiting Florida I read in the Miami Herald about an incident that was straining international relations. Cuba was playing the Netherlands in the World Baseball Classic at San Juan, Puerto Rico. The game was being broadcast live back to Cuba.

It seems a Cuban exile was sitting in the stands behind home plate and flashing derogatory signs about Fidel Castro that would be picked up by the television cameras. The Cubans complained about it but when nothing was done the top Cuban official at the game confronted the sign waver.

He was arrested by Puerto Rican police and taken to a nearby police station where they lectured him about free speech.

“We explained to him that here the constitutional right to
free expression exists and that it is not a crime.” Said police
Col. Adalberto Mercado.

When I arrived back in Kansas City according to Pitch Magazine there was a big brouhaha going on about the President of the United States speaking at a Lee’s Summit High School. It was just prior to his campaign for a second term in office. It seems that students wearing anti-Bush or Democratic slogans were not allowed to enter their own high school football stadium were the speech was being given. The Secret Service was also preventing the press from entering.

Where is Col Adalberto Mercado when you need him?


The Demise of the Iced Tea Spoon

Just this evening I was mixing a mojito and I had to resort to a chop stick to mix it all together. The experience made me think back to the last time I have enjoyed the convenience and pleasure of an iced tea spoon.

Of course, being from the south, iced tea only comes one way, sweet, so there is no need for a spoon. But as you creep north you begin to get ambivalence: Captain D’s, a chain originating in Tennessee, at least asks you, “Sweet or Bitter”. When you end up in the fast food eateries of the north you are lucky to get a straw to mix sugar into your iced tea.

In quality restaurants should your place setting include an iced tea spoon? Should I judge my host by the presence or lack thereof an iced tea spoon? My southern etiquette tells me if a salad fork is appropriate then an iced tea spoon would be mandatory.

However, I don’t have to wash the tableware either.

My Semi-Annual Journey

Twice a year I go south to Springfield, Missouri to take care of some family business, visit a few old friends and see how things have changed. I am from the Ozark Mountains but not Springfield. However, I did go to school at Drury College in Springfield. Yes, I was a Panther for four years.

Opps. It is called Drury University now. Also known as DU. That was a joke when I went to school there. Q: Do you know why Drury will never be called a university. A: Du. Okay it was funny, maybe you had to be there.

I don’t understand why every school wants to be a university. Think of brilliant schools like Grinnell College, Colorado College and Carleton College. They have no need to inflate their egos with a U.

My first appointment was at 9am so I left Kansas City very early. I was not happy to get up at 4:30 am on my first day of vacation. Yes, I have vacation all next week. I didn’t want to, but UMKC now limits the amount of vacation that we can take during the Summer Term and if we don’t take our vacation we lose it. We can’t accumulate vacations days. So it is a case of use it or lose it. Of course the forecast is for snow tonight.

I arrived early in Springfield so I swung by the old forty acres (Drury). Students were just hustling their butts off to 8 am classes. It was about 40 degrees and cold rain, but some guy was going to class clad in track shorts and a sweatshirt. Did we dress that stupid in college? Yes.

Students were hurrying across “the lane” burdened with big backpacks and even larger vessels of coffee. They can drink in class now. We couldn’t have drinks or food in class, so we would meet afterward in the old commons and drink hot coffee and have deep conversations about the meaning of life and the latest gossip on campus. Things change, for better or worse and still remain the same.

On the way out of town I couldn’t resist stopping off at the National Headquarters of Bass Pro Shops just to look. And of course I walked out with a new fedora, sunglasses and fly rod.

Why I Passed on Blue Man Group at Kemper Arena

Many, many moons ago, when I was just a whipper-snapper I was invited to a weekend esthetics workshop at NYU. The workshop was Friday and Saturday and each evening our hosts had planned a special night out on the town in Manhattan.

The first night we attended an art gallery opening in the Village and then had dinner with a group of cosmetic dentists, plastic surgeons, fashion photographers and models somewhere in Soho. The highlight of the night for me was when it came time to leave; I had to hail a cab back to the hotel. I had taken a cab before, but I had always called for one or caught them at the hotel. But just to step into the street, raise your hand and have a cabbie stop, felt very much like being in a movie.

The next evening we attended an unusual show called Blue Man Group. A few years before, they had moved out of the experimental stage and into a small downstairs theater in the East Village. They had been playing to full houses every night.

I remember being entranced and feeling very avant-garde. The theater was small and the show was very audience interactive. It was an experience I will always remember vividly.

So, it was with interest that I read in the internet version of the Kansas City Star Preview Extra that Blue Man Group was coming to Kemper Arena March 31st. My first thought was how, after all these years, could they still perform with the energy I saw that night in New York? Second was how such an intimate, personal interactive show could be produced in a big barn like Kemper?

I followed the link to the Blue Man website and was surprised to find that Blue Man is now a Company, almost like a franchise. There are over forty bluemen and they play through out the world. They have altered the show to be a spectacular so they can play in large arenas. The Kansas City show was a rock concert, part of their How To Be A Megastar 2.0 Tour.

At that point I decided I would take a pass on Blue Man Group (2007 version). Don’t get me wrong I’m sure they have a fascinating show. But I think I will just keep my memory of a unique experience I had in a basement theater somewhere in New York City too many years ago.

New Orleans ala carte

Following are a few impressionable moments I had this week while visiting the Crescent City; the city that care forgot.


Some people’s attitude toward something different or new never fails to amaze me. Some of the best and freshest food in the world is available in New Orleans: fresh oysters, shrimp right off the dock, jambalaya, red beans and rice, crawfish etouffee, andouille sausage, Cajun and Creole and la nouvelle orleans cuisine. Yet a few of my friends ordered chicken everywhere we went.



Famous restaurants Antoine’s, and Galatoire’s, local favorite Upperline, deliciously wicked holes in the wall like the Acme Oyster House and Uglesich’s (no longer in business) make New Orleans a gastronomic heaven. Yet several of our group refused to venture outside of the hotel restaurants and if they did, they wanted to eat at a national chain that is the same in every city. Okay, I can understand not liking a particular food, but imagine coming to Kansas City and not eating bar-b-que, turning down a chance to eat at legends like Arthur Bryant’s or local favorites such as Bluestem or 40 Sardines. What a boring world it would be.

I’ll never forget this. Walking down Bourbon Street, with a female colleague that is a conservative Muslim. She covers her hair, wears very loose, long, simple dresses. As she walked her head turned neither to the left or the right. Her vision fixed straight ahead. But she wanted to see it and was a great sport about it all.

Drinking my first absinthe. It is legal now, but the little ritual that goes along with it seems so illicit. Lighting the sugar cube, the tube of chilled water, it all felt so decadent, especially in the haunts of Tennessee Williams and William Faulkner.

Home Sweet Home

I’m back in Kansas City after an exhilarating, informative, productive and exhausting trip to New Orleans. And just in time for Spring Break week, how much more difficult can life get!

My last evening in New Orleans, after all the meetings and conferences were over I finally got time to get away from the hotel and get around a bit, to “press the flesh” as the politicians say. I did the obligatory walk down Bourbon street, visited the Acme Oyster House for a dozen fresh Louisiana oysters, a PeaceMaker Po’boy, and several Abita’s. I then wandered down Royal Street. I wanted to go all the way to Frenchman where some of the better music clubs are, but being on foot and alone I decided to stay close.

On my way back to the hotel I walked through Jackson Square. There is a little amphitheater next to the Café Du Monde where years ago you could hear some good street jazz. Last time I was in town the place had been taken over by Goths. This time it was hip-hop. I watched for awhile and then realized all that was really happening was some great music, recorded, and some poor-ass dancing. Mainly just begging for money. I noticed this quite a bit. The few street performers I saw were of poor quality and money hungry. However, I did hear one older guy on the Riverwalk the first afternoon I was in the city. He was just sitting on the curb in the warm sunshine playing the blues on a old acoustic guitar and filling in with a harmonica. Sunday night I ran across a group of about ten black kids, all playing different brass: trombones, tuba, coronet. They seemed to putting their heart and soul into it.

I couldn’t end my last night in town without walking down Pirate’s Alley, where William Faulkner once lived and wrote some of his early work. It was just getting dark, the courtyards were closed and the artists, merchants and street people were leaving for the night. On the corner I noticed a very small bar; dark, mysterious and empty. I entered to find a redheaded bartender and a nice little drinking establishment in which I stayed far to long.

As the night wore on the little bohemian café became rather crowded. I discovered the bar had two types of customers. Several of the night tours, ghost and voodoo, met there, and there where always a few locals, usually on their way home who dropped in for an absinthe or other refreshment. It made for a nice mix. I drank too much, but had some great conversations and heard a few far fetched stories.

After work...

Our Dean was gracious enough to take a group of UMKC professors out to dinner tonight. We all walked down to the French Quarter and had delicious gumbo and other creole and cajun food. A few of the professors kicked in for some bottles of Fess Parker wine and it was a merry night. After desserts of pecan pie, bread pudding and praline sundaes we walked back to the hotel via Bourbon Street; which seemed to be a shock to some of the more fragile among us.

After two days here I‘m beginning to get a feel for the place. During our time off we offered $35 for an under worked taxi to take us for a personal tour of the Ninth Ward. Later some of us drove east along the river to Slidell. Yes, it is as bad and worse than we had expected. It is a wonder the people of New Orleans are coming back at all, with so much destruction and so much bureaucratic red tape delaying everything.

Years ago I use to visit New Orleans once a year. It has always been one of my favorite cities. The food, the music, the life, the people. It is still an exciting place to me. But something is missing. However the people that are here are doing a damn fine job of bringing it back to life.

A Mornin' in New Orleans

Sunday, 5:00am
New Orleans

Good morning, I’ve been up since 3am. I just couldn’t sleep; my mind is full of ideas. I suppose that is why the school sends people to conferences. The problem is they usually meet in great places, like New Orleans. Then they cram your day full of meetings and symposia which doesn’t leave enough room for fun.

Early yesterday morning when I left Kansas City it was “spitting” snow. As I was getting on the bus to the terminal there was a family getting off. They had waited all day yesterday for a flight to Houston and their carrier had just cancelled the flights for Saturday. All the planes were grounded in Newark due to the snowstorms.

I had forgotten that this would be Spring Break week for many. My flight was late leaving Kansas City. As we got close to Dallas the attendant began to give out gates for connecting flights. He began with Cancun, then destinations such as Honolulu and Miami. One woman on the plane was lamenting that they she was going to miss her connection to Ft. Lauderdale and she was scheduled to leave on a cruise at 4 pm. Good luck!

Okay, it is suppose to be sunny and in the 70’s here today, so I’m not going to complain. It’s almost daylight. I think I’ll take the Riverfront streetcar (It seems to be the only one now running.) to the French Quarter and the Café Du Monde for café aulaite and beignets. And I’ll still have time to make my first meeting.

It Has Been Just One of Those Days...

When the alarm clock went off early this morning I did not feel well. I tried several times to get up and get going. Each time I ended back in bed exhausted. Finally I gave in and called in sick to work. When I don’t feel well the best thing for me to do is sleep. And I did, I slept for hours, almost all day.

Finally late this afternoon I awoke and tried to eat some of nature’s greatest healing food, Campbell’s Chicken Noodle soup. Well, actually I was out of soup but the chicken favored ramen noodles did almost as well. Followed by a few sips of very cold iced tea and I’m almost good as new. Now my goal is to walk the dog, I’m going to try to make one whole block. This time of year it is usually dark by the time I get home from the city and we walk in the blackness. She won’t know what to do, walking in the sunshine. Maybe I should fit her with a pair of doggy sunglasses.

Later in the evening…

I can’t be sick any longer. Most of my friends are leaving for Austin and SXSW this weekend. I have to stay behind because the next weekend I leave for a professional meeting in New Orleans that will take most of the week.

It is with trepidation that I look forward to seeing the Crescent City once again. It has always been one of my favorite places to visit. I revel in the spirit, love the food, and find the diversity of human existence inspiring. But I have not been back since before Katrina.

A few friends that have returned to visit or to help say it’s not the same. The French Quarter is okay, many restaurants have reopened, but lots of the people have not returned. Most street performers have not returned; you hear very little live music. Most of the noise is recorded bands. I’ll give a full report when I return next week.

Out of Hibernation

The amount of daylight is increasing every day. As the temperature slowly climbed above freezing the snow melted. Can spring be far behind? Hmmm, maybe? Here in Missouri we can still expect anything from a late winter blizzard to a riot of daffodils blooming tomorrow.

It is March and I should come out of hibernation. I haven't done a lot of anything since the winter weather arrived in early December. The problem with being inactive all winter is how much you get behind. I have so much to catch up on. I have to finish my income taxes, so I can fill out my FAFSA which was due March 1st. The VW license is overdue. The university wants my Faculty Accomplishment System (FAS) post haste.

What I would prefer to do is to take a long bicycle ride on the Little Blue Trace in a warm morning’s dazzling sunlight. I did go to the YMCA yesterday for a late afternoon swim. I've paid dues all winter and that was the first time I'd set foot in the door.

Speaking of a foot. Dulcinea broke a small bone in her left foot. We were just about to leave for Mizzou to see Cassiopeia’s acting debut in a production of “The Vagina Monologues” when she slipped off the last step and torqued off the head of the fifth metatarsal. Instead of seeing a play at Mizzou we spent the evening in St. Mary’s emergency room.

According to last Tuesday’s NPR Morning Edition, it is the bicentennial of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s birthday. You know the guy who wrote Paul Revere’s Ride and Hiawatha. Because Longfellow had such a wonderful ability to put nature in the context of the human soul the director in charge of the 200th celebration wants weathermen to use “The Longfellow Poetry Forecast”, quotations of some of Longfellow’s poetry while giving weather forecasts. She said, “Maybe he wasn’t writing a forecast, but he used this wonderful imagery as a segue in to his state of thought. It often matched the state of the weather.”

I thought this was a good one for Kansas City on most any winter occasion.

“The day is cold and dark and dreary
It rains and the wind is never weary.”

Or the Longfellow weather quote I prefer:

“Oh perfect day
Whereon shall no man work, but play
Whereon it is enough for me
Not to be doing, but to be.”

Happy soon to be spring!

Blog Readings

I have been catching up on some of my favorite blogs after being away over the holidays.

It was nice to read that me, my life & infrastructure had a successful first semester in grad school and aced her stat class. I wonder if it was as difficult for her to get back to school as it was for me.

I should read Living in the Scoot Utopia more often. He is always doing something interesting. I like his walking tours about Kansas City; which I have tried to do with much less success. The bar tour across Iowa to Minnesota was great. Living in Blue Springs, his blog on the gangsta pants at the Independence Mall rang so true.

I have been particularly interested with the posts on his karaoke experiences at Winslow’s BBQ in the City Market. I have always wanted to sing. Having no ability to tell one tone from another I have so far refrained.

Last Thursday I just had to check it out. It was a small crowd, but certainly dedicated to the art of karaoke (I’m trying to be kind). The barmaid and someone did a great job with the song “Houston”. As I had to give an early lecture the next morning I couldn’t drink enough to get the false courage to try it myself. As we were leaving the crowd was just building. Next time I’m going to do it! Maybe.

Happy New Year!

The holiday break went all to fast. One day I was languidly dreaming of how to fill all the open time and then it seemed as if the next day I was back at school. However, I was able to enjoy a few days of sleeping in late and taking afternoon naps.

I had a delightful Christmas. I drove down to Dallas to visit family and friends again this year. The Dallas Museum of Art had an excellent Van Gogh exhibition. It had less major works than the Impressionist exhibit in St. Louis a few years ago, but it was much better done. We did the traditional Christmas Day hot tub and then the polar bear dip into the icy pool. I also treated a group of friends to my favorite Texas eatery; Babes Fried Chicken. They only serve fried chicken, green beans, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, and biscuits; all family style. The building may look like it’s falling down but it is truly comfort food; which is so dear to my heart.

Dulcinea went on to El Paso to watch the Mizzou Tigers lose a heart breaker to Oregon State in the Sun Bowl. On the way back she got delayed in New Mexico in a snow storm and almost missed New Year’s Eve back in Missouri; which we spent rather quietly at the Trouser Mouse in Blue Springs. The blues band was good; we drank too much and greeted the New Year with a bottle champagne.

I’m thinking about going to SXSW in Austin this spring. If anyone out there has advice on how to best enjoy the week, please let me know.