“I thought the speech was partisan, uninformative, disingenuous and not likely to encourage those who have honest disagreements with him to be able to work towards some kind of common solution,” Senator Jon Kyl of Arizona, the No. 2 Republican, said.
[...]
“I don’t think he solved a thing in terms of votes,” Representative Charles B. Rangel, Democrat of New York, said of Mr. Obama’s speech. “I think he did a lot in changing the atmosphere.”
[...]
“He was talking to the American people, particularly to independents,” said Senator Charles E. Schumer, Democrat of New York. “I don’t think anyone thought after hearing the speech 12 Republican senators would get up and say, ‘I’m for you, Mr. President.’ But when they go back to their constituencies who did hear the speech, they may feel differently in terms of how to approach this.”
I enjoy Facebook a lot. When I initially signed on I had an infatuation with it which lasted several weeks and then died down. Then for a long while I was rather indifferent to it until recently when I realized how great it is as a closely-knit community forum. I especially like that I can get to know people a lot better -- people I consider friends but most of whom I've never actually met.
It's also an interesting study in human behavior, especially the rationale for friending someone. Or unfriending.
“If someone with more than 1,000 friends unfriends me, I get offended,” said Greg Atwan, an author of “The Facebook Book,” a satirical guide. “But if someone only has 100 friends, you understand they’re trying to limit it to their intimates.”
Mr. Atwan, a recent graduate of Harvard (where Facebook got its start), recommends culling your friend list once a year to remove total strangers and other hangers-on. Keeping your numbers down gives you more leeway to be selective about whom you approve in the first place, he said.
All of my friend requests recently have come from people I know personally, or know via blogging. Earlier I had a few from people I don't know at all. One of two are active in the local Austin music scene who apparently were friending anyone who appeared to have a taste for music. And there are a couple who did the same for anyone with a taste for blogging, even though I have no idea how they found me.... probably from my comments at large blogs.
I don't recall if I have ever unfriended anyone. Because I believe Facebook is not only a source of entertainment and keeping track of people you know, it's also a networking tool, and you never know when some obscure person in your list of friends might someday have a useful bit of advice, or share a piece of useful information, etc.
And yet, at the same time, I find myself somewhat annoyed when I see a "friend's" icon in my list and say to myself, "I don't have a clue why that person friended me."
Interestingly enough, there was a time when I really wanted my Facebook friends to be people I only knew through blogging, not people with whom I grew up, went to school, worked, or just met in life. Putting yourself "out there" on Facebook inevitably results in people finding you whether you want them or not. Once in awhile I get a request from someone I personally know or have known, and my gut instinct is to just start another Facebook page under the name konagod, and shut mine down completely! But I add them. Usually after an initial flurry of the inevitable hiya doin's, they drift on quietly, leaving behind an icon to mark their spot.
All of this is leading up to a very simple Question of the Day:
Have you ever unfriended anyone, and what was your rationale? And also if you just never accepted a friend request from someone for whatever reason.
I'll have to live vicariously through Michael Corcoran's review at statesman.com today:
You paid to get Lo-retty and you got Lo-retty; in a blue sequined gown with her hair piled high, she was still the “Blue Kentucky Girl” from Appalachia whose favorite adjective is dadgum. “Whatever you want to hear, Just holler it out,” she said between songs, though you can be fairly certain the set list, including an ironic pairing of “One’s On the Way” and “The Pill,” was carved on a stone tablet. (I could be mistaken because I disliked the record and never played it again, but she didn’t do a single number from the Jack White-produced “Van Lear Rose.”)
Honestly, that would have been something of a let-down for me. I loved "Van Lear Rose." And like it or not, the least the reviewer could have done is listen to it 2 or 3 times before making such a rash judgment. But there's nothing wrong with a night of old classics, that's for sure.
Drawing more of her audience from the gay pride rally-ers in town than all the bikers (who combined to make Austin the leather chaps capital of the universe this weekend), Lynn’s show had more padding than a drag show.
It's been a long while since I've had the turntable set up and functional. I totally forgot how amazing it reproduces what's hidden in those little grooves. And this is only with a pair of Yamaha headphones I've had since college which makes them at least 25 years old.
So I grabbed an album off the shelf and am giving it a spin as I write this. Only took about 5 seconds before I got chills. MP3 can't compete.
True change begins when we can reshape the horrendous attitudes possessed by some of our youth, and of course that's a direct reflection of the parents in most cases.
I caught a few minutes of Bridge to Terabithia tonight and I can honestly say it reminded me of the attitudes of many Americans, especially voters.
In other words, one particular kid in the classroom annoyed the hell out of me.
Leslie Burke: What if you don't have a TV?
All: [laughing]
Leslie Burke: My dad says that TV destroys brain cells.
Scott Hoager: Your dad doesn't know anything. We watch TV like every day!
Leslie Burke: I rest my case.
Mrs. Myers: Well then Leslie, you could write a report on something else.
Scott Hoager: Yeah, like how to live in a cave!
Some people just never grow up after adolescence. That was but one example. There was another annoying little red-headed brat that needed a good thumping.
txrad and I started talking about school and he mentioned that study hall in his school was a reward you had to earn. Wow. What a contrast to the pathetic little all-white Christian academy I attended.
Study Hall: It's what you do to the kids when you don't have time or resources to teach them.
Then I brought up university life. Not all colleges are equal; that's for certain. I spent a bit of time bouncing back and forth between the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville and Little Rock trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with myself. College was a bit of a jolt for me. With each campus having well over 10,000 students, life was different. The adolescent behavior which was present throughout high school did not exist here. (Well, not in the classroom; dorm life and frat houses were another matter!) Suddenly I bore responsibility for my life. Everyone, including myself, had to make new friends.
What I really wanted was to experience some life outside of Arkansas for a change. So one semester I had applied and was accepted at the University of Denver. What a colossal mistake. I'm not saying it's a bad school but dorm life was a big contrast to my previous experience. My roommate was this New Yorker, the son of a cop if I recall, and he had a bad-ass attitude. And he smoked pot.
If you are wondering why I'm complaining about that, keep in mind that I was still emerging from a very conservative upbringing and I was still trying to make of myself what I thought other people expected of me. I had no clear directives and felt adrift. I realize now what I was looking for was less responsibility; I wanted to be guided and I wanted a strict environment that would not allow me to deviate. I had also dragged along some conservative emotional baggage from home and I wrongly assumed that since the University of Denver was affiliated with the Methodist Church, it would be a place far from home yet familiar.
Not only was I unpleasantly surprised by my first impression of the students I met upon my arrival, but the cafeteria food sucked. And that was the last straw. I called my parents and told them I had to leave, and I painted a rather unflattering portrait of the school in an effort to diminish any resistance I might face from my parents. I can't imagine how many thousands of dollars they had to scrape together to get me enrolled.
I packed my stuff, got in the car and headed back to southeast Arkansas. I will never forget the sense of relief I felt as the Denver skyline faded from my rear view mirror, and later, the front range of the Rockies would fade, leaving me in the barren rolling plains of eastern Colorado and a whole lot of Kansas ahead of me.
When I arrived back at home with my parents I felt lost and faced a lot of uncertainty. It was late in the first week of January and the prospect of a wasted semester fueled my anxiety. As luck would have it, and I use the word luck very loosely here, the University of Arkansas at Monticello wasn't starting their spring semester until the following week and getting admitted there was pretty easy. Best of all, the campus was only 30 miles from where I lived with my parents, so I could commute each day and save money on housing costs.
I was not thrilled with this outcome because this was not a large school -- probably about 2,000 students -- and the majors offered were very limited. But since I was still a sophomore and taking only basic required classes, it didn't matter.
My first week of classes was an eye-opener. Talk about a contrast! If what I wanted to find was the familiarity of high school, I hit the jackpot. The students here all seemed to know each other and many of them didn't seem that serious about college. The professors were also noticeably more like the high school teachers I'd known.
It became clear to me that one semester of this was going to be quite enough, and in the summer or fall I'd return to either Little Rock or Fayetteville and try to get serious again. I don't remember which campus I went to first, but as before, I bounced between the two of them before finally getting the easiest possible degree in Liberal Arts, with the least amount of effort, and after nine years of being in and out of colleges. My parents must have been proud of me after squandering so much money on a degree which was worth about as much as the parchment on which it was printed. (It's in a drawer around here somewhere.)
To cut a long story short, all of this was flashing through my brain last night after catching a few minutes of the aforementioned film which, ironically, we shut off in order to watch another high-school themed film, Rocket Science.
It was just last week that I mentioned having seen The History Boys and loved it. In the comments, Minstrel Boy recommended Rocket Science.
There's nothing like the feeling of seeing a film and immediately looking forward to a 2nd viewing. As one who was definitely an outsider in both high school and college, I could relate to this film on so many levels.
It's also just quirky and offbeat enough to score valuable bonus points which will rank it pretty high in my list of memorable independent films. And the use of music was brilliant. If you have seen the film, I'm sure you'll understand why I selected the title of this post, even if it took me a while to get to the point.
Not very economical but enjoyable nonetheless. On Wednesday and Thursday night we watched two films which have been sitting in our living room since July 21, 2007 from netflix.
Last night's selection was C.R.A.Z.Y. -- a gay coming-of-age story with a focus on the boy's relationship with his father. Great acting and a good film. I've had the film so long I totally forget it was a Canadian film, not that it would matter, except it was French with English subtitles which we have to read. Again, no big deal unless you're a bit cross-eyed from tequila consumption. We were, but we got through it.
The film on Thursday night was better though: Brick, with Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Lukas Hass, started off with a bit of violence -- nothing extreme, just a good ass-kicking which was repeated again and again throughout the film. I wasn't sure I was in the right frame of mind for that but the film was amazing. Good writing, good directing, good cinematography, GREAT acting.
This unconventional film noir -- set in the halls of a modern-day high school -- marks a promising debut for writer-director Rian Johnson. Teenage loner Brendan Fry is forced to navigate his school's social network when a secret crush turns up dead and the murderer is anyone's guess. Through intense interactions with thespians, band geeks and druggies (including a grown-up Lucas Haas), Brendan works to crack the cliques -- and the case.
I could easily sit through this one a 2nd time, but not right away. Besides, I'm ready to get these two flicks sent back so we can get two more -- and hopefully not sit on those for 7 months.
Oh, and the 3rd film we have? Pedro Almodovar's "Bad Education." That was has been here since March 25. I'll get it watched and sent back before the 1st annivarsary. Promise.
Blog about the black man on the keyboard in the 1920s banging on the black and whites smoking a joint, and the daughter saying something like, "put that out dad, it's not like it's medicine or nuthin." And the mother rounding up her unruly daughter to pacify the times.
I managed to embark on my trip without forgetting anything. Almost. Less than a mile from home I realized I forgot to bring along several CDs for those long stretches of highway where the airwaves are filled with religion, top 40 country and top 40 rock. Being a Taurus with a stern mindset, I was not about to turn around to go fetch something so inconsequential. I would just have to deal with it.
Things were not so bad in Waco with a station referred to as "the Bear" at 102.5 on the dial. It was listenable and at times enjoyable. And once that signal faded, I was in range of most Dallas stations. Dallas has not been one of my top radio markets for at least two--maybe three--decades. Media consolidation has basically destroyed any decent variety and diversity from the airwaves in all but a few cities. It's about the almighty dollar, not the music.
That being said, I did find a rather pleasant surprise in Dallas with "Lone Star 92.5" which seems to be trying to carve a niche with a playlist that sounds like Texas -- whatever Texas is supposed to sound like, even though many of the artists played were not Texans. For at least 100 miles coming into and leaving Dallas I listened to this station on Sunday and I did not recall hearing one commercial other than their own station promos. This is a technique used by some new stations --- or stations with major format changes --- to lure in listeners and establish some decent ratings prior to selling ad time.
I thoroughly enjoyed their format which is hard to categorize. It was definitely rock. It was definitely not your typical "adult album alternative" which is my favorite category. I think I would call it early 70s progressive (in the Texas sense) album rock for old accidental hippies who faintly smell of motor oil and still pop the occasional qualude. I'm not sure if that is going to be a successful niche even in a metro area of more than 5 million people, but it certainly entertained me.
And while their playlist is diverse and features artists like Eric Clapton, ZZ Top, Susan Tedeschi, the Rolling Stones, Canned Heat and even Melissa Etheridge, they seem to frequently select less-played songs from the bands, all of which have a common gritty feel like a west Texas dust storm. I found it refreshing despite (or perhaps because of) the presence of bands like Molly Hatchet and Grand Funk Railroad which obviously don't get much airplay these days.
Unfortunately, this station is owned by Clear Channel. While they are based in Texas, we'll see just how fond they are of this sounds-like-Texas format if the station doesn't meet their expectations.
By the way, as I was returning through Dallas on Wednesday, there were a few commercial interruptions and more DJ involvement than I recalled on Sunday, but it was far less abrasive than the norm and I did notice that much off the advertising was read by the DJ and seamlessly incorporated into the schtick rather than the typical 2 or 3 minute breakaway into annoying jingleland crap. I really hope they successfully make this work.
Little Rock is in a lackluster phase at the moment without any clear standouts on the radio dial. I found myself preferring silence over the all-too-common top 40, oldies and worn-out classic rock formats featuring songs which have literally been played to death. Honestly, who really wants to Stairway to Heaven or Kashmir just one more time?
Faced with those format choices and an alternative rock format I'll typically go with the latter. In Little Rock that happens to be 100.3 the Edge. It has an edge and boy, does it tend to grate after awhile! Granted, it is an improvement over the format which was found at that frequency back in the 70s when my dad considered it his favorite station. And while I do actually enjoy alternative rock as long as it is good, I found the playlist to be so narrowly focused on bands which all sound similar it quickly lost my interest.
Either I am getting old or my ear hasn't kept up to date on the subtle nuances of today's thrashing grunge. There's more to alternative than the sinister bass-laden sounds of dark metal. And while they do have some songs and artists I enjoy on their playlist, it wasn't worth the effort for the few and far between appearances of them.
And there's something rather distasteful about a station whose web site features a tab called "Red Light District" with photo galleries featuring "dirty chix," a "Babe of the Day," a "Thong of the Day," and "Wet on the Net."
Hmmm, music used to be about... music. What happened? It didn't take me long to figure out their demographic and thankfully I don't fit it.
Craig Crawford of CQ Politics reminds me of Eugene Levy doing a character. I can't help but laugh.
Is it just me or is this shit funny? Oh, I forgot, you have to play them both at the same time while Craig and Eugene are speaking. Keep trying, you'll get it.
On January 1, 2008 I started a Facebook page, primarily because Pam Spaulding had been promoting hers at Pam's House Blend and I was curious to check it out.
After creating an account and filling out the profile info and then seeing my first page I really wondered what the big deal was. It seemed overly simplistic and rather boring. Pam accepted my friend request and then I was able to view her page. That was my wow moment. This really appeals to my inner geek in a major way.
Oddly enough, not long after I created a page, I had a friend request which I accepted. I didn't recognize the name, but since so many people I know via blogging use screen names, I didn't think much of it. I visited this person's page and had no idea who it was. I finally removed this person as a friend when I started getting accepted invitations from other bloggers and friends I actually know. And it was pretty obvious after checking out that guy's page that he was simply amassing a collection of friends he found attractive based on a thumbnail photo. Creepy! Can we have a few non-sexual conversations before you pin me up on your bedroom wall?
One exciting aspect of this is finding new widgets to put on my page. I don't think I've viewed one friend's page in which I didn't fine some new add-on that I loved!
Now the weird part. Someone just invited me to be their friend. The beauty of Facebook is that you can view their page before you accept, and Facebook tells you how many friends you have in common. In this case, it was zero. I'm just going to leave that one. Obviously I have no problems with gay guys, but if I don't know you, and virtually all your friends are gay guys, some of whom are posing in their profile pic either shirtless or naked, then I'm going to make the rational assumption that I'm not being invited to be your friend because of the size of my record collection, my political views, or because you read my blog.
When I created my page, I had no idea what I planned to do with it aside from just figure out what it's all about. And if it hadn't been of any interest to me at all, I would have just deleted the account. Now that I have it, I like it, and I can see the value in being able to keep up with friends, and it's entertaining. But I really don't think I want to fill it up with "friends" I don't even know. Some people do, I suppose. I'm sure it has something to do with a few of the LGBT groups I added, but if I was going to send an invite to someone I didn't know, I think I'd at least include a comment with the reason, such as shared musical interest, or whatever. And no, a shared attraction to men --exclusively-- doesn't cut it for my Facebook site.
It should be pretty obvious from my page that I'm not on there to swap porn, talk about my sexual habits or my fantasies. Hell, I can do that on my blog! But seriously, therein lies the problem with Facebook: people can't actually see your page until they're you're friend, nor would you want them to because there's often personal information on the page you really wouldn't want to share with a total stranger. So it's a bit of a catch-22 situation.
I'm just curious to know if other people reading my blog have a Facebook page and if you get many requests from people you don't know, and what your philosophy is regarding this phenomenon.
And by the way, if you do have a Facebook page, and I know you from this blog, I'd be happy to be your friend. Just send me an invite!
I brought up my Rick Flair noises tonight after I did a tequila shot. txrad went into an educational exercise about how wrestlers would tape razor blades to themselves so they could inflict a wound and draw blood, making it appear as if their opponent had wounded them and thus insuring drama in the match.
I said that was deceitful. I cited my own preferences for blood-drawing such as Iggy Pop cutting himself with razor blades while on stage.
txrad said there's no difference. It's all entertainment.
I said there's a world of difference. One is deceitful and one is flagrantly self-mutilation.
Apples and oranges.
txrad still disagrees.
So, you decide.
I'm only putting this post up because I'm having major issues with Firefox to be addressed later. (See comments in my post 48 Hours several posts below.)
What could a man who grew up on a farm in southeast Arkansas, and a man of Norwegian ancestry who grew up branding cattle (among other things) in western North Dakota possibly have in common with a woman who is a Croatian refugee and a man from Holland who is a software/mechanical engineer?
Read on. This may be of interest to no one but myself, by the way.
One of the aspects of life which fascinates me so much are the strange little twists and turns and the discoveries that perhaps none of us are really so very different. We all have our life experiences and when they entwine with those experiences of others, it's a joy, if nothing else.
I don't remember how I discovered Nicole's photo blog, or what endeared me to it. But I've had her on my blogroll for at least a year. Perhaps it was because she was living in Amsterdam, a city I love, and I enjoyed her photographs of her daily life, the street scenes, and the cafes. Plus I have a fascination with the Dutch culture and language.
When I lived in Denver in the late 80s, prior to moving to California, I had a job at a university bookstore. The university had a lot of students from Holland, and it seemed as if most of the employees in the bookstore were Dutch. Being a language buff, and having studied a bit of Dutch on my own, I began to make friends with many of my co-workers. While they spoke fluent English, they would often converse among themselves in their native language. I began refreshing myself on the language and while I was never able to speak more than a few sentences, I think my friends were impressed that an American was taking the effort, particularly since it wasn't necessary. I was better at reading and writing in Dutch.
After I moved to California, I kept in touch with a few of them for about a year, and I still have a postcard and a letter written to me in Dutch after a couple of them had returned to Holland.
This of course is not the reason I was fond of Nicole's blog because she didn't post in Dutch; it's just a small part of the connection. Perhaps it's my attraction to Virgos. Before I met txrad I knew the love of my life would be a Virgo. So I wasn't surprised that he was one. I tend to get along with most Virgos pretty well. And Nicole is a Virgo. Vincent, her partner, is also a Virgo. Virgos all around! And Vincent is a native of Holland and therefore speaks and writes Dutch. Rather fluently I would assume.
A few months back, Nicole announced that they would be immigrating to Australia. My first thought was that I'd really miss the pictures of life in Amsterdam. Later I was quite excited to learn that they were moving to Adelaide, one of two cities in Australia for which I have always had a strange fascination (the other being Perth) which is odd considering I know nothing about either place, and have never been to Australia. Oh well. Life is full of oddities. But I was certainly looking forward to pictures. (By the way, shortly after moving, Nicole and Vincent flew to Perth to visit friends, so I got to see some pictures there as well, and it did nothing to diminish my intrigue.)
Upon arriving in Australia, I noticed that Vincent had started up his own photo blog, and around the same time, I had been inspired to dedicate my Black Soap blog to personal issues and photography after having enjoyed Nicole's for so long. I began reading their blogs more regularly and leaving more comments, and vice-versa -- in short, getting to know them a bit better.
One interesting fact I learned is that Adelaide and Austin are sister cities. The coincidence is that txrad and I had been together 7 years when we moved to Austin, and Nicole and Vincent had been together 7 years when they moved to Adelaide. Ahhh, you've got to love the numerology! Seven is probably my favorite number.
Nicole also worked for an advertising agency in Amsterdam. I work for an advertising agency in Austin. Surprise! Another coincidence. Now that we are all blogging back and forth, I learned that Vincent has a map fetish. So do I. I also learned that Nicole likes to meander slower through the supermarket. So does txrad. I'd rather wait outside. So does Vincent. But let's get to the larger coincidence.
Carlos Vamos and Andy Salvanos are a couple of musicians. Carlos is a musician they knew from Amsterdam. Andy is a musician they recently saw performing on the street in Adelaide. Here's the coincidence directly from Nicole:
So we tell Andy how much he reminds us of Carlos and Andy actually knew who Carlos was! And then by freak coincidence Andy found my blog and wrote a message that Carlos flew in from Amsterdam and is playing here in Adelaide for about three weeks!
And this reminded me of a coincidence of my own involving street musicians. (Hey, I never said this post was going to be short!)
When I was living in Little Rock prior to moving to Denver, I lived in the central part of the city -- a bit more eclectic than the suburbs. One of my favorite sights was the guy who lived near me, and rode around on his bicycle carrying a guitar and wearing a sombrero. His name was Elton White.
He hooked up with another local eccentric named Betty White (coincidentally; she didn't take his name I guess!) and they married and started performing together. Fast forward a few years to Los Angeles after txrad and I had moved there from San Diego. I'd been gone from Little Rock for 2-3 years and had no idea Elton and Betty had moved on to some fame.
txrad and I were were walking down the street in our Hollywood neighborhood when we spotted a couple who would tend to catch your attention. It was Elton and Betty! I rushed up to them, introduced myself and txrad, and told them how I knew them from Little Rock. They had moved to LA to pursue fame and fortune and were performing regularly on Venice Beach.
They also were starting to attract some media attention as well. The fact that they briefly ran for political office while in Arkansas might have encouraged the attention. Elton ran for a seat in Congress. Betty ran against Bill Clinton in an Arkansas gubernatorial race. Her one and only issue was to lower the age of consent to 14. She lost, obviously.
I hadn't thought too much about Elton and Betty after we moved from LA 10 years ago. After reading Nicole's post, and realizing the vast wealth of knowledge on the internet I decided to take a look and see if I could get caught up on the dazzling duo. And I succeeded.
Betty White died in 2004. That makes me sad. BoingBoing actually had a post about them in May of this year. So did Honky-Tonk Dragon.
In the early 1980's, Betty was a more or less normal, married secretary in her late 50's/early 60's at a Little Rock law firm (allegedly working with Hillary Clinton) with a slight psychiatric problem for which she took medication. At some point, though, she stopped taking her medication and experienced a psychic and sexual renaissance of grandiose proportions: out with the husband and respectable job, in with the matching hot pink hair-do and spandex pants.
Elton, meanwhile, was a much younger (30 years younger, to be exact!) man renowned in Little Rock for his phenomenal basketball skills until the day he claims someone "put something in his drink." Elton met Betty in a homeless shelter, and it was love at first sight. The two were married and became notable Little Rock eccentrics, playing music all around town while sometimes delivering newspapers on the side.
Part of me wonders if Carlos Vamos or Andy Salvanos ever crossed paths with Elton and Betty. That would be too much of a coincidence. I'm just glad that Nicole's coincidence and subsequent post about it reminded me of my own, and that I am able to share a little more kona magical moments.
Rest in peace, Betty.
I'm happy I got to meet you once upon a time in Hollywood.
The New Frontier Hotel-Casino in Las Vegas will have its last moment as a major source of entertainment later tonight. The last remnant of what I remember as Vegas will be gone.
Thousands of onlookers are expected to crowd along the Las Vegas Strip at 2 a.m. Tuesday to watch as the Loizeauxes set off a chain reaction of explosions that will force a storied but tired property to collapse upon itself. A fireworks show is planned, too, but the main attraction is clearly the destruction of the New Frontier to make way for a splashier edifice.
I'm not sure why I'd even care considering I lost about three grand there playing slots at a time in my life when I was unemployed and living on borrowed money.
