A potential hiatus

I may be unable to post to this blog for a while. I'm not sure that I'll have internet access while staying with my family in Alamosa. I will have stories to tell following my trip to Alamosa, and my drive to Seattle. And photos. Stories and photos. Hooray!

All your wildest dreams will come true....

So I just saw Napoleon Dynamite. I'm still digesting it. Some of the funniest lines I've ever seen in a movie. It's nearly indescribable. One of the characters looks like a dead ringer for Herbert Kornfeld from The Onion. I caught you a delicious bass. Ask Phil James about it.

Three Facts About the Convention

Two facts that are sad, and one that's just preposterous.
(according to Mark and Brian)
FACT ONE:
The Montana delegation slept in dorms at Northeastern. It's unclear* if this was because they had no money, or thought they'd be killed by marauding bears in advance of the event, or what. But they slept in dorm rooms. That's sad. You'd figure that some of the uber celebrities might have pitched in, or even better the Boston delegation could have taken some in (there couldn't have been too many...it's Montana). That would have then been a great story, Democrats sharing with strangers.

FACT TWO:
Michael Dukakis was giving walking tours of Boston. The former Democratic nominee, and Governor of the state was giving tours of the North End to random delegates. How shameful that the DNC didn't give him a cart or a bike or something. Also, the convention basically allowed the bloated (though less than when he was in Iowa) and bloviated Ted Kennedy dominate...and denigrated Mike D. Not even a few bars of Neil Diamond's "Coming to America." Today!

FACT THREE:
According to Brian there were 90 Kennedy's in attendance. That's 6 times as many Kennedys as American Samoans (who I'm sure unlike the Montanans had accomodations). 90. Iowa (home to the self congratulatory Democratic party)sends only 56. Ninety, as in one more than 89 and just one less than 91. 90. That's ridiculous. They were like a Super Tuesday state, but of Kennedys.

*after googling Montana+delegation+dorm I learned that: '"We're a small delegation. We're from the West. We're used to camping out," said Bob Ream, the chairman of the Montana Democratic Party, which requested the dorms for economic reasons. "In fact, I thought I'd pitch a tent on the Boston Common."' I wish now that they'd camped on the Common, and rigged up the swan boats as their transportation.

"Please, Hamid, Don't Hurt 'Em"

Low Culture has an "article" on the cooperation between MTV Choose or Lose and the GOP. And included are some proposed slogans for the GOP Convention

My favorites:
"GOP 2004: Get All Up in this Peace"
"Off the Hizzy, GOPizzy"
"Please, Hamid, Don't Hurt 'Em"
"The Roof, The Roof is on Fire! And the Fire Department's Underfunded!"
"Don't Believe tha Hype... Actually, Believe It. Please."
"If I Ruled The World, Actually, I do, so go Fuck Yourself"

The Stand Up and Holla program for the Republican Convention promises to be a fair and academic approach to hip hop culture. You know in a Spike Lee, or Cornell West kinda way...not in the billionaires wearing Kangol hats for a photo op sorta way.

The Speech

So last night, with growler of MGD in hand I sat in my lazy boy to watch the Kerry speech. I didn't realize until afterwards that I was behaving (creating a caricature) as the voter to whom the speech was addressed. And yet, somehow to me it fell a bit short. There were sections that were great. But overall it had the feeling of a speech written by committee. There is a political joke that a camel is a horse created by committee. I think this speech was similar.

Sections I liked: Family values flipped to valuing families. Well done, great section. John Kerry reporting for duty, good--but should have been built to. Didn't help the momentum of the speech. Abraham Lincoln quote, was brilliant. Whoever came up with that on the Kerry staff should get a gold star (or hell, they can have Kerry's silver star or was that a bronze star).

The speech felt too cobbled together for me to really like it, and he looked really sweaty. I know the second is a silly complaint, but he did look sorta sweaty and pasty. Overall he delivered a speech that worked, and that laid out a lot of the programs he wants to push forward. And he began to reclaim terms like hope, values, faith etc, and I cannot help but like that.

David Not So Welna

David Welna just asked Mary Landrieu the following: "Louisiana has voted Republican, for President, for as long as I can remember, do you think it'll turn blue this time?"

Her response: "We voted for Bill Clinton not once, but twice..."

This suggests a fairly limited memory for NPR's chief political reporter.

Spinderalla, Tommy or Cock Fighting

Kerry's speech tonight is supposed to be surprising. I have been trying to think of things he could to do surprise me (with some help from Jen). Here's the thing...the first rule of surprise is you do not talk about the surprise (like Fight Club that way). He should be playing down expectations to the point where if he shows up with mismatched socks, white belt and a lobster bib we still think he's the second coming of Martin Luther King Jr.

A partial list, of ways he could surprise me:

Reveal himself as a tranny. that'd be more than just a little shocking.
He challenges Bush to a cock fight.
He announces that he's deferring to the ticket of Ali G and Mick Foley (Mankind)
He begins to sing The Who's Tommy (the entire album, especially a scary rendition of Wicked Uncle Ernie)
He brings Spinderella up on stage and does a faithful rendition of Push It.
He challenges Bush to a race around the world.
He channels the spirit of Jim Henson and with his hand up the ass of a muppet delivers his entire speech in frog-falsetto.
He mentions Vietnam less than 3 times.
He professes a love of Hunt's Catsup.
He publicly outs every member of the Skull and Bones in the audience.
He moves from the wings to the podium by kick worming

Jerks

A campaign worker for President Bush said on Thursday American workers unhappy with low-quality jobs should find new ones -- or pop a Prozac to make themselves feel better. "Why don't they get new jobs if they're unhappy -- or go on Prozac?" said Susan Sheybani, an assistant to Bush campaign spokesman Terry Holt.

Compassionate. I assume this will be part of the platform in New York.

Cue the Indiana Jones Travel Montage

I wish I could create a nifty little car (white, beat up saturn) graphic that would track my progress across the country in the next few weeks--sort of an homage to the Indiana Jones travel montage.

So, here is the rough set of plans.

Saturday (31st)
Pack and move all my stuff in my unfaithful car (really, this car is broken so often, it's like me during ultimate season) down to Alamosa, Colorado. My uncle and aunt live there and have been kind enough to take me in for the next few days.
August 5th
Dad and Katie arrive in Colorado Springs. I'll drive up and meet them in Colo Springs. We'll pal around there for a few days, and then return to Alamosa.

August 11th (absurdly early in the morning)
Dad and Katie leave for Colo. Springs to fly home and I begin my very long drive to the great state of Washington.
August 11th (evening)I'll probably stop in Twin Falls. (I promise to sing a few verses of the Built to Spill song to celebrate).
August 12th crazy early
I leave Twin Falls Idaho
August 12th fairly late
I arrive in Seattle.


According to mapquest it's a 24 hour drive, and I'll cover something like 1440 miles. Plus, I add Idaho to the list of states I've visited. Hooray!

Q. Is it worth that much driving?
A. I'll be with Jen.

Text of Obama Speech As Prepared

On behalf of the great state of Illinois, crossroads of a nation, land of Lincoln, let me express my deep gratitude for the privilege of addressing this convention. Tonight is a particular honor for me because, let's face it, my presence on this stage is pretty unlikely. My father was a foreign student, born and raised in a small village in Kenya. He grew up herding goats, went to school in a tin-roof shack. His father, my grandfather, was a cook, a domestic servant.

But my grandfather had larger dreams for his son. Through hard work and perseverance my father got a scholarship to study in a magical place: America, which stood as a beacon of freedom and opportunity to so many who had come before. While studying here, my father met my mother. She was born in a town on the other side of the world, in Kansas. Her father worked on oil rigs and farms through most of the Depression. The day after Pearl Harbor he signed up for duty, joined Patton's army and marched across Europe. Back home, my grandmother raised their baby and went to work on a bomber assembly line. After the war, they studied on the GI Bill, bought a house through FHA, and moved west in search of opportunity.

And they, too, had big dreams for their daughter, a common dream, born of two continents. My parents shared not only an improbable love; they shared an abiding faith in the possibilities of this nation. They would give me an African name, Barack, or "blessed," believing that in a tolerant America your name is no barrier to success. They imagined me going to the best schools in the land, even though they weren't rich, because in a generous America you don't have to be rich to achieve your potential. They are both passed away now. Yet, I know that, on this night, they look down on me with pride.

I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my heritage, aware that my parents' dreams live on in my precious daughters. I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that, in no other country on earth, is my story even possible. Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our nation, not because of the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of our economy. Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago, "We hold these truths to he self-evident, that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights. That among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

That is the true genius of America, a faith in the simple dreams of its people, the insistence on small miracles. That we can tuck in our children at night and know they are fed and clothed and safe from harm. That we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door. That we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe or hiring somebody's son. That we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our votes will he counted — or at least, most of the time.

This year, in this election, we are called to reaffirm our values and commitments, to hold them against a hard reality and see how we are measuring up, to the legacy of our forbearers, and the promise of future generations. And fellow Americans — Democrats, Republicans, Independents — I say to you tonight: we have more work to do. More to do for the workers I met in Galesburg, Illinois, who are losing their union jobs at the Maytag plant that's moving to Mexico, and now are having to compete with their own children for jobs that pay seven bucks an hour. More to do for the father I met who was losing his job and choking back tears, wondering how he would pay $4,500 a month for the drugs his son needs without the health benefits he counted on. More to do for the young woman in East St. Louis, and thousands more like her, who has the grades, has the drive, has the will, but doesn't have the money to go to college.

Don't get me wrong. The people I meet in small towns and big cities, in diners and office parks, they don't expect government to solve all their problems. They know they have to work hard to get ahead and they want to. Go into the collar counties around Chicago, and people will tell you they don't want their tax money wasted by a welfare agency or the Pentagon. Go into any inner city neighborhood, and folks will tell you that government alone can't teach kids to learn. They know that parents have to parent, that children can't achieve unless we raise their expectations and turn off the television sets and eradicate the slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white. No, people don't expect government to solve all their problems. But they sense, deep in their bones, that with just a change in priorities, we can make sure that every child in America has a decent shot at life, and that the doors of opportunity remain open to all. They know we can do better. And they want that choice.

In this election, we offer that choice. Our party has chosen a man to lead us who embodies the best this country has to offer. That man is John Kerry. John Kerry understands the ideals of community, faith, and sacrifice, because they've defined his life. From his heroic service in Vietnam to his years as prosecutor and lieutenant governor, through two decades in the United States Senate, he has devoted himself to this country. Again and again, we've seen him make tough choices when easier ones were available. His values and his record affirm what is best in us.

John Kerry believes in an America where hard work is rewarded. So instead of offering tax breaks to companies shipping jobs overseas, he'll offer them to companies creating jobs here at home. John Kerry believes in an America where all Americans can afford the same health coverage our politicians in Washington have for themselves. John Kerry believes in energy independence, so we aren't held hostage to the profits of oil companies or the sabotage of foreign oil fields. John Kerry believes in the constitutional freedoms that have made our country the envy of the world, and he will never sacrifice our basic liberties nor use faith as a wedge to divide us. And John Kerry believes that in a dangerous world, war must be an option, but it should never he the first option.

A while back, I met a young man named Shamus at the VFW Hall in East Moline, Illinois. He was a good-looking kid, six-two or six-three, clear-eyed, with an easy smile. He told me he'd joined the Marines and was heading to Iraq the following week. As I listened to him explain why he'd enlisted, his absolute faith in our country and its leaders, his devotion to duty and service, I thought this young man was all any of us might hope for in a child. But then I asked myself: Are we serving Shamus as well as he was serving us? I thought of more than 900 service men and women, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and neighbors, who will not be returning to their hometowns. I thought of families I had met who were struggling to get by without a loved one's full income, or whose loved ones had returned with a limb missing or with nerves shattered, but who still lacked long-term health benefits because they were reservists. When we send our young men and women into harm's way, we have a solemn obligation not to fudge the numbers or shade the truth about why they're going, to care for their families while they're gone, to tend to the soldiers upon their return, and to never ever go to war without enough troops to win the war, secure the peace, and earn the respect of the world.

Now let me be clear. We have real enemies in the world. These enemies must be found. They must be pursued and they must be defeated. John Kerry knows this. And just as Lieutenant Kerry did not hesitate to risk his life to protect the men who served with him in Vietnam, President Kerry will not hesitate one moment to use our military might to keep America safe and secure. John Kerry believes in America. And he knows it's not enough for just some of us to prosper. For alongside our famous individualism, there's another ingredient in the American saga.

A belief that we are connected as one people. If there's a child on the south side of Chicago who can't read, that matters to me, even if it's not my child. If there's a senior citizen somewhere who can't pay for her prescription and has to choose between medicine and the rent, that makes my life poorer, even if it's not my grandmother. If there's an Arab American family being rounded up without benefit of an attorney or due process, that threatens my civil liberties. It's that fundamental belief — I am my brother's keeper, I am my sister's keeper — that makes this country work. It's what allows us to pursue our individual dreams, yet still come together as a single American family. "E pluribus unum." Out of many, one.

Yet even as we speak, there are those who are preparing to divide us, the spin masters and negative ad peddlers who embrace the politics of anything goes. Well, I say to them tonight, there's not a liberal America and a conservative America — there's the United States of America. There's not a black America and white America and Latino America and Asian America; there's the United States of America. The pundits like to slice-and-dice our country into Red States and Blue States; Red States for Republicans, Blue States for Democrats. But I've got news for them, too. We worship an awesome God in the Blue States, and we don't like federal agents poking around our libraries in the Red States. We coach Little League in the Blue States and have gay friends in the Red States. There are patriots who opposed the war in Iraq and patriots who supported it. We are one people, all of us pledging allegiance to the stars and stripes, all of us defending the United States of America.

In the end, that's what this election is about. Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope? John Kerry calls on us to hope. John Edwards calls on us to hope. I'm not talking about blind optimism here — the almost willful ignorance that thinks unemployment will go away if we just don't talk about it, or the health care crisis will solve itself if we just ignore it. No, I'm talking about something more substantial. It's the hope of slaves sitting around a fire singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting out for distant shores; the hope of a young naval lieutenant bravely patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworker's son who dares to defy the odds; the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too. The audacity of hope!

In the end, that is God's greatest gift to us, the bedrock of this nation; the belief in things not seen; the belief that there are better days ahead. I believe we can give our middle class relief and provide working families with a road to opportunity. I believe we can provide jobs to the jobless, homes to the homeless, and reclaim young people in cities across America from violence and despair. I believe that as we stand on the crossroads of history, we can make the right choices, and meet the challenges that face us. America!

Tonight, if you feel the same energy I do, the same urgency I do, the same passion I do, the same hopefulness I do — if we do what we must do, then I have no doubt that all across the country, from Florida to Oregon, from Washington to Maine, the people will rise up in November, and John Kerry will be sworn in as president, and John Edwards will be sworn in as vice president, and this country will reclaim its promise, and out of this long political darkness a brighter day will come. Thank you and God bless you.

Obama for Anything

I will be fighting and scrapping and pulling any and all strings to work on behalf of Barack Obama in '08, 2012, whenever he next runs.

The speech he just delivered at the DNC Convention was one of the three great speeches I've read or heard in the past 20 years. Mario Cuomo's 1984 DNC Address, Tom Harkin's memorial speech for Paul and Obama's DNC speech are inspirational, bringing me (each) to tears.

I stand in awe. I am inspired, again.

Swetsville Zoo

Just outside of Fort Collins is a zoo/ranch where a conservative curmudgeonly old coot has created sculptures out of farm equipment. This guy is my favorite, I call him smiley joe.



This preying mantis is pretty cool as well:

(everything looks more important and epic in greyscale).

More photos over at Extra vaganza.

Howard Dean Convention Speech Drinking Game

Howard Dean Convention Speech Drinking Game

1 shot
Any mention of the word idear
Any mention of strong, strength, stronger
Any bad joke about the Red Sox
Any mention of Kerry with the word hero
Any time he says “In Vermont.”
Any time he sounds like the man you really wish were speaking on Thursday
Any mention of Bush and one-way bus back to Crawford Texas.
Any mention of healthcare coupled with a long list of countries.

2 shots
If anything “turns out not to be true”
If he talks about the “end of the civil rights movement”, or MLK, Jr
If any great lies are told by people like him to people like us
If he tells any story that you remember from the blog
If any fun is had at the President's expense (from Phil James)
If we are reminded of the great loss to our sense of community
If we are informed that WE have the power (extra shots if we are reminded more than once)
If you cry

3 shots
If he mentions Fahrenheit 9-11
If he does the double arms out finger point
If Dean accidentally slips up and says, “What I wanna know..”
If he makes a reference to Ralph Nader
Any mention of Ken Lay and the Boys (also from Phil James)
If we are thanked very much, more than twice (extra shot each “thank you very much” above two)

5 shots
Any mention of Costa Ricans
If he says he represents the Democratic Wing of the Democratic Party
If he makes fun of Gerry McEntee
If he calls Bush a miserable failure
If he mentions there being more than one America, perhaps two.
If he references any sort of bat
Any jokes about a scream
If he gives a shout out to Nicco. 

AYFKM

Unbelievable. MSNBC has an online poll asking whom viewers think will likely give the best speech at the convention
Who will give the best speech at the Democratic convention?

Ted Kennedy
Teresa Heinz
John Kerry
John Edwards
Max Cleland
Jimmy Carter
Bill Clinton
Al Gore
Hillary Clinton
Bill Richardson
Jane Napolitano
Jim Rassman
Elizabeth Edwards
Christie Vilsack

Alright, what on earth is this list. Barack Obama is speaking...not on the list. If Christie Vilsack is a better speaker than Obama I'll eat a house. She's not supposed to be great...it's not her job. Same thing--Elizabeth Edwards, but no Howard Dean. GHD is going to bring his A-game. I wish, and know it won't happen, that he'd bring the What I Wanna Know speech. I'm guessing he won't.

In Honor of the Start of the Convention

Yup, that's Howard Dean.

And I still wish I were working for him.

That's it. Nothing else, no Kerry bashing. Just that I sure do miss working for GHD.

King of the Road

While on a drive around Horsetooth Reservoir I came upon a herd of cows wandering in the road. Made me smile. They were willing to move to one lane or the other to accomodate passing traffic, but primarily they hung to the middle. (The car on the left was there first so they are crossing over to allow it to pass first...they seemed to have an inate sense of traffic justice. But maybe I'm anthopomorphizing just a bit).

I slowly followed them for a while before they took a sharp left turn and headed up the road toward the farmhouse where presumably they are fed and or milked.
Yeah cows!

Good Old Chauvanism

I'm tired. I was up at 6:00. Hiking by 8:00. Biking at 1:00. Driving from 2-8:45. and frankly I'm tired. There will be longer posts on the trip. It was quite something. First off I think I encountered 1 trillion Germans at the two national parks. Two fun games arose from this fact. The first was surly American or bashful European. This game is played by Aaron eagerly wishing everyone on the trail a good day, or a hello and hand wave. Just trying to be cheerful. So when someone fails to wave back or say hello is it: a) because they are surly Americans or b) Europeans (non-Brits). It was hard to tell. Usually the Americans would talk about me as I passed. That was a big clue. Also the Europeans wore clothing that made them look like they were cool kids from Des Moines. Strike that. It just made them look like they were from Des Moines. The other great game was German friends or American gays. This was a more rare game, but there were at least two sets of ripped, good looking guys, walking with their shirts off (and frosted blonde hair). I think in both cases they were German, but you can see the untold National Park games that could be invented. It was good fun. There were a few moments of patriotic, chauvanistic pride---there is something powerful about people flocking to see giant holes in American soil, giant, awe inspiring absences. I'm sure there are amazing sights in other countries, but these parks were pretty outstanding. And I've never even been to the Grand Canyon. Which I would have to imagine is mind boggling in a way that Canyonlands cannot approximate.

Other fun things: a radio commercial for storage sheds, a gas station called: Gay Johnsons, a plethora of rented RVs. It reminded me of driving McFun to see all these RVs. Made me sad, and yet deeply grateful that I didn't have to take McFun up a mountain.

More to come, and photos to be posted on extra vaganza

Whom Do You Know in Seattle?

For the first time, really, since I was graduating from Oberlin--I know where I want to move. Oddly, it's for nearly the same reasons--to see a new city, and be with the person I care about. Of course this time is a little more intense (okay, it's the most intense feeling I've felt, to date, but still).

So that said, I'm asking for your help. My father, who has reason to know as he counsels students on finding a job, suggests that the best way to find a job is to let as many people know about your search. Well, I don't know how many folks read this, but it's a start. I'm hoping to find something semi-permanent in Seattle (ie, ideally not another campaign). Writing would be nice, research would be keen, logisitics/event coordination would be peachy, depending on the cause--development could be outta sight. Lots of things would be great. As y'all no doubt know I'd want something progressive--so Knights of Columbus would be less ideal than ACLU.

My humbled and sincere thanks for any help. you can send contacts/leads/thoughts/supportive limericks(see below)/haikus to
aaronleavy at gmail.com

There once was a young man from Oberlin
Whose feelings for Jen took over him
just recently released
and with that at peace
he realized Seattle could be home for them

Moab

I'm off to Moab and Arches National Park tomorrow. I really like the sound of Moab. Makes me think of the cooler brother of Ahab. It's a 6 hour drive from here in Steamboat. I'm visiting Buffy. It's a quaint little town, but I was bored in the evening I spent there---I'm guessing Buffy must be going crazy. Hopefully I'll get to Arches in time to take some photos tomorrow and then I'll either sleep in my car or get a hotel (probably a hotel). Then hike some the next day...and then back to Steamboat that evening. Who knows.

Rufus The Prairie Dog

I went out earlier today (well, yesterday, since it's now 3:30am....I haven't been sleeping too well the past two nights...wonder what two events that might coincide with...) and decided to mix my newfound biking with my old love taking not terribly impressive photos. I biked over the the Nature Preserve where I used to go running before it was taken over by mountain lions and took photos of the cute little prairie dogs that litter the area. If you've never been near a prairie dog colony (or whatever an assemblage of p-dogs is called) it's quite amazing. They stand up on their hind legs and calls out to each other and scurry to these little holes. Apparently the ones calling and standing up form a perimeter around the threat--ie, me. The holes nearest me were silent, and bereft of little standing dogs. But those outside my range of harm were up and screeching. Thanks to my camera's rather prodigous zoom (8x optical) I was able to get some shots of these little guys.

The one pictured here is just about to descend into the hole. I've named him Rufus.


I present--Rufus.

Now this post seems perfectly reasonable at 3:48am. I'll have to see how it reads in the morning.

The Greatest Clock of All Time

JKD posted about this...but this truly is the greatest clock of all time

GO HERE FOR ALL THE JOY YOU CAN ENDURE

Happy Birthday Paul!

Sixty years ago today, a little baby boy (Paul) was born to Leon & Minnie Danishevsky Wexelstein near Washington, DC.

Rough days like the last few are the ones when I think most about Paul Wellstone. Reminds me of why I do the work I do (well, did...but will do again).

"Politics is what we create by what we do, what we hope for and what we dare to imagine." Paul David Wellstone.

Wyoming: Why Not

Yesterday afternoon, following a fairly unpleasant morning (see next post) was just wonderful. Jen and I were sitting around, I was calling people to let them know I'd been fired and just to let them know I was fine, and seek counsel, and Jen was reading the NY Times. I finished with a call, turned to her and said, "Do you want to go to Wyoming?" I further clarified, it's only about an hour north (that turned out not to be true, as GHD would say...it's actually like 1.3 hours). Jen said yes, and insisted that we bring a frisbee so I could teach her to throw.

So we headed north on 287 towards Laramie. Laramie is a fairly depressing place. Low slung buildings, rusted out trucks, dive bars with French names (Cafe Jacques). I was driving, and we continued north and west. Finally after about 15 minutes past Laramie (searching for a park or green space where we could toss a disc) I asked her to get out the map and see where we were heading. Turns out we were only 20 miles from Como Bluff Famous Dinosaur Graveyard. Hard to pass up a dinosaur graveyard.

There are no signs. It's just a small building with a sign that says, 175 million years ago this building walked.


The building (museum, they'd like to argue) is made of dinosaur bones. Instead of say, a building material like, cement, wood, stucco, concrete, bamboo...nope this is made of dinosaur bones. Creepy right. It's also for sale. So I think maybe if I cannot find a job Jen and I will buy the museum, and the associated house (a fixer upper) and live near Medicine Bow Wyoming.

Como Bluff House, Museum, and Property: The Como Bluff complex is situated seven miles east of Medicine Bow, Wyoming, on U.S. Highway 30/287. The property consists of a two bedroom house, one bath, living room, dining room, and kitchen with an unfinished basement; the Fossil Cabin Museum Building (approx. 12 X 24) and a series of outbuildings and corrals. The total acreage is 160 acres, and approximately 23 acres are on the South side of U.S. 30. The house is livable but needs to be updated (paint, fixtures, etc.). It is constructed of stone (see pix) and is weatherproof and stable. It does not have a water supply, so water must be periodically hauled from Medicine Bow and the storage tank (500 gallons) will require cleaning or replacement. A smaller storage tank is on the premises and useable on a short term basis. The Fossil Cabin is constructed entirely of dinosaur bones and is the only building of its type in the world. Como Bluff is placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Several outbuildings are present, including small storage, barn, corrals and other buildings formerly used in raising horses. Como Bluff is not an agricultural opportunity. 160 acres is not sufficient land to raise livestock in this area of Wyoming. Asking Price: $350,000. The owner is flexible upon terms and would consider any reasonable offer for the property. Contact: Ms. Jody Fultz, P.O. Box 173, Medicine Bow, WY 82329, (307) 379-2323. Fax (307) 379-4444 See also Como Bluff Fossil Cabin Page

We later played frisbee on the driveway/parking lot of this museum. And more than just a few errant throws floated into the middle of the desolate Wyoming highway. It was a great afternoon. Surreal, but wonderful all the same.

So I got fired

So... I had a meeting today, during which I was told that I was being released. Released makes me think of an aging baseball player whom the team no longer needs. The right word is fired, or maybe terminated. For a fairly long time now I'd been feeling unmotivated (not a normal feeling for me) and like I wasn't doing as good a job as I could be. Bob is a great guy, but we were not clicking. When it's just the two of us talking and sharing stories it's wonderful, but we had fundamentally different views of my role and the way that one should run a campaign. Apparently *the* reason I was fired was an inability to play well with others--specifically the party regulars and officials. I was told that 80% of politics is building relationships and an ability to pander to people to keep them happy. As I'd always felt fairly competent at this, it was mildly hurtful to hear otherwise. I was further informed that Senate leadership, and others within the campaign (who is that...we were a staff of one) and outside the campaign felt I was not doing a good job and that I was failing in establishing mutually beneficial relationships. A friend suggested that the knock down drag out verbal fight I had a week ago in the bar in Denver where I defended Dean and those who worked for him might have been part of the problem. The primary person with whom I'd argued is a prominent player and is not my boss but close. So maybe I should have shut up and been nice. But truth be told I think it was more than that, and if it was for that reason that I was fired--then I am glad I was.

So what comes next? Should I move to Seattle to be with the love of my life Jen (who is through luck and grace here right now, and has made this day passable if not oddly wonderful...she is currently and constantly changing everything I've come to know about what a partner can/should be...I'm thrilled at the most mundane of things, grocery shopping, renting a bike, making dinner). Should I move to DC and try to do that for 4 months. Should I go home? Should I become a sherpa for wealthy dowagers trying to climb small mountains in Colorado?

I don't know what comes next. I'm hurt right now, I feel like a failure...

Aaron and Jen at Rocky Mountain

It was cloudy.  Jen brought some of Seattle with her.  A very good trade.
 

Sittin' on top of a mountain, ain't that somethin'

Who Would You Be

I've said it before, but it came up over on Susan's blog...but if I could be any man currently living (ie, I'd look like him, and be as cool as he appears) it'd be Peter Krause.  Sportsnight, Six Feet Under.  He's all good looking and smooth.  But not horrifyingly so. 
 
If we include dead guys...it's Cary Grant.  He's witty (in the movies), charming, sexy as hell, and generally just seems to move through life as though it were choreographed around him.
 
So dear readers (all 6 of you) whom would you be if you were able?
 

Labor of Love

I talked yesterday just as I was about to leave the office with the business manager for Pipefitters 208 (not, as some astute readers might suggest, plumbers and pipefitters...I know, I was shocked too).  He's a 50 yr old Hispanic guy.  And I remembered yet again why I love labor.  I love people who value community, who see social change as the outgrowth of cooperation and solidarity.  Hell, I love the terms and the language of labor. 
 
I was again given the fire and the energy I need to fight this fight.  When I work with, or for the working men and women of this country (especially the unionized folks) I remember Paul. I think of the value of honest work.  Mine is a strange business.  So no deeper insight, just a great conversation with a tough guy--who sees the movement as progressing and as integral to progress.

Ooooh...Democrats

A woman just asked a friend of mine here (who is going to the convention) to get her a piece of toilet paper from the convention so she can rub it on her face and say "oooohh...Democrats."
 
Yup...we're crazy.
 
In other news.  I just bought a replacement for my beloved digital camera.  It arrives tomorrow.  Also beloved and arriving tomorrow--Jen.  Tomorrow promises to be a great day.
 
In even more other news...I think I can now make colors of text appear on my blog....SEE WHAT I MEAN.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Cheney, time to face the Change...

According to the Times rumors abound regarding Cheney being dropped from the ticket. Seems like a Bush thing to do....it's bold, it's fluff, it's symbolic, and Fox News can explain in detail just how heroic and brave and god-like really, the president is for this decision.

Hello Denver!

I just received confirmation. Jen will be joining me in Colorado this weekend. For those of you that don't have calendars in front of you...this weekend is much sooner than September 3rd. So I'm thrilled. Life is good, and somewhere I must have banked a lot of good karma to be in this relationship.

So I fell in love Part II...

As many if not most of you know this past month+ has been an amazing one for me personally. In that time I fully realized just how much I cared for Jen, how impressed I was by her intellect, how stupefied I was by her wit, how amazed I was by her generosity and hope, how deeply grateful I was for her kindness and friendship, and how astonished I was at the role she was beginning to play in my life, my thoughts, and my sense of the person I wanted to become. I spent good portions of June talking with many of you about those thoughts, about my hopes that they were shared, and wondering what would happen in Seattle (June 25th-28th).

So Seattle was wonderful. As I said, I fell in love with the city. But that's not all. I arrived and upon seeing Jen, I knew things were better than I'd hoped. Easy conversation followed. Later that night I basically explained what I was thinking and had been feeling for almost a month---she'd been in the same place. Finally each of us knew that our affection was requitted. I woke up the next morning and went into her room and we talked for 6 straight hours, pouring over subjects from math games as a child, to familty history, to political views, to weather (as long as it's talking with you....). It was as it should be.

So the rest of the weekend is too full of amazing moments to give them justice in this form.

Leaving Seattle was physically painful, though some of that may have been due to the 4:30am drive to the airport on an empty stomach --which also left my tummy (I love that word) in knots. It was a feeling (as are many that have been associated with this budding relationship) that was qualitatively and categorically different from any I'd ever felt. I've been in two relationships of longer than 2 years. Each of which had some great moments. I was lucky have found those two women, they are each talented and amazing and I'm glad. But this, this feels different. It is effortless, and seems to replenish the energy I invest in it. Any time I spend talking to Jen seems an investment not a gift. I never feel as though I've lost that time or energy, rather that I've spent it as wisely as I am able.

Got back to Denver. Had a flat tire in my long-term parked car. Not the rose petal strewn welcoming I'd hoped for, but what can you do. So I got all greasy and nearly ruined my nice purple shirt (JKD helped pick that one out...during our straight eye for the hopelessly unfashionable guy) On the drive home I called and talked with Mark. I gushed. Words were coming out double wide and triple stacked. I was trying to explain, express, and impress upon him just how deeply I felt for Jen. He got it. Apparently I didn't have to try so hard, it was clear from my voice alone.

The past few weeks since I've returned have been phenomenal and hard. We talk daily. We write (she's better about this) daily. We IM. Etc. And just a week ago we were confident enough to say to one another what we'd indepently known for much longer---that we loved one another. I'm profoundly grateful for these feelings and this relationship, and eager to see what comes next. So, to recap, Aaron's doing quite well.

Pure Heroin(e)

I would have never guessed this as a rationale against gay marriage/rights/sex....but apparently some Conservatives believe it must be stopped because it's better than straight sex. I find this to be a silly argument (even if it were provably true, or false).

...If you isolate sexuality as something solely for one's own personal amusement, and all you want is the most satisfying orgasm you can get- and that is what homosexuality seems to be-then homosexuality seems too powerful to resist. The evidence is that men do a better job on men and women on women...

So powerful is the allure of gays, Cameron believes, that if society approves that gay people, more and more heterosexuals will be inexorably drawn into homosexuality. "I'm convinced that lesbians are particularly good seducers," says Cameron. "People in homosexuality are incredibly evangelical," he adds, sounding evangelical himself. "It's pure sexuality. It's almost like pure heroin."

Dr. Paul Cameron, founder of the Family Research Institute and ISIS, the institute for the Scientific Investigation of Sexuality

Easy Rider

I bought a speedometer today. $19.99 at RecycledCycles. A little sensor mounted on my spokes and a corresponding reader on the fork of the bike. It makes all this bike riding very mathematical, quantifiable. It's good stuff. I went today, for a longer that usual ride. 17.5 miles. A little over an hour--including a five minute stop to buy water along the highway. I sorta feel like I might almost be getting close to the point where I'm nearly fit. Maybe.

Top speed reached: 32 miles per hour. And at the end of the ride I even climbed a hill (moderate incline, really) going 20 miles per hour...as a final demonstration of manly ability...and foolhardy waste of energy. But we'll see if I can walk tomorrow. The path that I'm riding lately takes me past the Poudre River. Each of the past two days I've seen people swimming in the river. Seems nice. I think next time I'll bike up there in swim trunks and maybe reward myself with a quick dip.

A little analysis
If I went at 16 miles per hour (about right, minus the water break) I was moving at:
4.29158×104 cm/min centimeter per minute
715.264 cm/s centimeter per second
8.448×104 ft/h, fph foot per hour
1408 ft/min, fpm foot per minute
23.4667 ft/s, fps foot per second
4.30081×104 furlong/fortnight furlong per fortnight
281.6 in/s, ips inch per second
25.7495 km/h kilometer per hour
13.9036 kn, knot knot (noeud)
715.264 cm/s kyne
429.158 m/min meter per minute
7.15264 m/s meter per second
8.8927×1012 mpy mil per year
13.9036 knot mile (naut.) per hour (knot, noeud)
0.266667 mi/min mile (stat.) per minute
4.29158×105 mm/min millimeter per minute
7152.64 mm/s millimeter per second
2.38586×10-8 speed of light

I found a nifty little site that does these conversions.

UPDATE:
In the interest of full disclosure and honesty...I found out today (Monday) that my little speedometer stops timing when I stop riding. So my previous estimate of 16 mph is innaccurate probably closer to 15...don't want to claim biking progress/prowess/ability I don't yet posses. (Though I went for a 40 minute ride today and went just over 10.3 miles...which suggests I'm getting close to that 16 mph mark)

Oy Vey: New York

In what has become a strange but distinct pattern, I've come to see that people in Colorado see New York (and residence there) as a proxy for being Jewish. I was at a fundraiser a week ago and someone came up to me and saw my name tag. (Aaron Leavy...for those of you who are confused). It's a Jewish sounding name. He says, adopting a faux Yiddish accent, "funny you don't look Jewish." Which I think is probably not only not true, but very strange. I was a bit taken aback. It's usually the other way...Aaron Leavy...oh you're a Jew, and then I have to explain that I'm not. He sensed this and said, "don't worry, I grew up in the Bronx." First off I wasn't worried. And second I'm going to guess that John Maclean is not a Jewish kid's name. Could be wrong. Who knows, but being from the Bronx doesn't make you a Jew. It's not, as far as I can tell a communicable thing...you cannot get a contact buzz. If you're in a room with lots of Jews you don't get second hand-Jew.

Second event reinforcing this notion. July 4th. I was talking with a woman about her neighborhood association. She explained that they had tried to get voter turnout to increase in her precinct. I said that talking about it and making people feel guilty if they didn't vote sounded like a really effective approach. This woman's name is Maloney. Her response was, "I'm from New York I know about guilt." Strange. Not offensive just really odd.

I'm from Ohio. For what does that serve as proxy?

Pursuit of Trivia

Went last night to a local trivia "event." Said event consists of filling a decent bar with lots of people and then asking them (in teams) questions. I went about 4 weeks ago. It was appaling. The questions were really annoying, and some of them I think were just wrong (what is the first skyscraper in NYC---flatiron....come now.) Tonight I was doing better, and our team was in good form. Fattiest fruit-- Avocado, Wood used to make baseball bats Ash, Real name for Northern Lights Aurora Boreallis. And so on. What I didn't know and maybe smart blog readers will....what was George Lucas' first film (presumably first film he made, not the first film he watched). I put American Graffiti, not so. THX 1138. I thought that was VCR head cleaning solution, apparently it's not. Oh well. So $3 for 32oz of beer, and free trivia, and adequate conversation...not a bad evening.


*The ding noise is misleading, because the questions are asked and then you write your answer after conferring with your teamates...but the ding reminds me of In The Know)

Feeling Hot Hot Hot.

I've been riding my bike the past few days. It's been really nice. Though I need some more fleshy padding or some more padding on my bike seat....my little tush is very sore. I'm sure few if any of you were wondering...and yet there it is an update on my ass. Strange thing these blogs.

Today while canvassing I realized that no matter how dry it is, 97 degrees is warm. And that walking for 2 hours straight without water, again, no matter how dry, is very tiring and makes you weak. Today, we have been winning. Fortune is beaming down...or maybe that's the sun, but either way things are a-ok. Learned from Brian's blog that there will be a book about/based on Neutral Milk Hotel's "In the Aeroplane over the Sea." Wonderful album. Among the best. Haven't listened to it in a while. It's intense. I miss it. Though not as much as I miss Jen. It's surprising really. It's not unlike the ache from exercise, it's omni present, but some things/thoughts really expose just how sore/full of longing you are. It's a good feeling though, because I cannot imagine, the alternative. Just for the record, I smile a lot these days, this goofy, goonish broad smile that looks like those clowns at the putt-putt courses. Yeah, big and broad and lingering well past the normal ceasation point. So like I said today (recently)I've been winning. Oh, and my next two netflix selections (Simpson's Season 4 Volume 2, 3) arrived. Everything's coming up Milhous.

New Lyrics for Life

Earlier, maybe 3 weeks ago, maybe longer I posted something about how Old Man (Neil Young) felt appropriate (24 and there's so much more...live alone in a paradise that makes me think of two). Well I've been listening to Blood on the Tracks a bunch recently.

So my new soundtrack is Simple Twist of Fate, and moreover Shelter from the Storm. This campaign is turning out to be a challenge, emotionally and otherwise. But I feel buffeted, and secure...and I think I'll be alright...I'll make it through this challenge.

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

It's a nice song. It's a nice feeling. I'm so tired right now, weary from top to bottom. But that's alright.

Aaron Leavy--Bike Owner!

I bought my bike, u-lock and helmet today. Grand total 219. The bike is Specialized...which makes me think it's a bike for people on a short bus...but since I've heard of it before I assume it's a leading manufacturer of bikes. Mongoose is the other name I know.

The bike is blue. It's got those funky little steel bars that look like a flourish you might see on a Viking war ship. It has quick release everything. I've already (by necessity) learned how to unclip the wheel, and then fix the brakes. My helmet is this preposterous thing, aerodynamic, visor, blue, etc. I'm one sexy looking athlete. I was informed by the bike guy that this was a good purchase. I believe him. It's pretty spiffy. The bike shop guy knew about Oberlin, as he grew up in Vermillion. Small world.

UPDATE:
Aaron Leavy, bike rider. I just rode my new "special" bike (it's called a Hardrock...presumably not named for the restaurant) about 6 miles. (it's easy to measure distances here...everything is on a one mile grid). It took around 20 minutes. Estimated speed something nearing 18mph. Verdict--Aaron is a very tired man, and not-at-present a very good bike rider. Whew.

Aaron Leavy: Bike Owner?

So I think that by COB (a fun acronym for politicos out there....close of business) I will have bought and maybe even ridden a bike. If purchased it will be the 3rd bike I've ever owned.

Bike One:

Red, and black. With that great velco-ed padding on the cross bar. As with so many things, I learned in a strange fashion. I tried and tried and tried to learn to ride a bike. Nothing. Then one day...it made sense. I was riding a lot. Later that weekend I was doing tricks. That bike lasted till I was maybe 10. Then enter bike 2.

Bike Two:
Black and silver mountain bike. Maybe 10 or 12 speeds (none of which I used correctly or frequently) all of which seemed to slip and stutter. Surely not the best bike around, but it served me well. It has since been moved to a better place...or more likely a junk heap. Why is it that so often that trite expression is used as code for...we killed or dishonorably dispatched of...some item, be it pet, or bike. Anyway. Bike two was fine for its time, and would invariably get ridden a lot on the days after the last leg of the Tour De France, when I, like so many other young boys decided that biking was a sport I'd be good at. Hell I could bike...how hard could it be. Then 20 minutes later...I'd stop. This pattern also reared its head after Breakfast at Wimbledon. (though, not with the bike, but rather a racquette. sp)

So why bike 3? I live in and around a community of bikers. People bike all the damn time. Just goes with the mandate that everyone here be fit and tan, and outdoorsy. Another factor is I'd like more exercise. I fantasize about returning to normal elevation and dominating at frisbee. But in my fantasy I'm actually training at elevation. In reality, I'm typing to Jen in front of a desk deocrated with empty coke cans while eating bagels. This is not the kind of training I imagine in these heroic dreams of mine. But I think I could like biking. Also, a tertiary reason, but maybe the prime one is that Jen bikes a lot. and I'm guessing, pretty solid reason to believe this assertion, that if I spend any serious time in Seattle...I'll want to join her on these bike rides. There is something appealing about that image. But....the image ceases to be appealing if I carry it forward and think of me walking my bike up a hill while Jen pedal on by. So training is the key. Plus, and this is a good one...when you bike you get to feel morally superior to those people "working for their car." So a bike it is. I've found that you can get those little hanger dealies for the back of the car fairly cheaply, and they will support my oh-so fine new bike (probably a cheap used one).

Futher updates as events warrant.

Sigh...

Thanks Aaron, your contribution of $10 has been approved.
Thank you very much for your generous contribution to the campaign. Your support helps the campaign build our team against the powerful special interests of George Bush. Together, we can build a stronger America.

While I am certain you are asked to give to many causes, your commitment to my campaign and to the larger political process is humbling and much appreciated.

======

So I saw F9/11 last night. And today I gave to K-E. It's not an easy 10 bucks. It's a smart one.
. I decided that it's the political equivalent of a prostate exam...unpleasant but certainly demonstrably better than the alternative.

TGING

Thank God It's Not Gephardt.*

So it's Edwards. Phil J, owes Jen a coffee (or coffee related product worth 5 dollars) and the country breathes a sigh of relief knowing that Dick G is not going to strap himself to another campaign and jump off the cliff.

*line comes from Brian.

Monkey Balls and Goose Bumps

I arrived yesterday at the Larimer County Democratic Party tent/booth around 10:00am. The event was supposed to start at about that time. Truth be told there were few vendors/participants at 10, let alone anyone to whom we could preach, reach or speak. What was there was a Thai Restaurant selling Monkey Balls. Yes, monkey balls. Later in the day I tried some. They were three very sizeable, maybe three inch diameter breaded balls...on a stick. They were, I came to find out after taking a far to large bite, very meaty, and very very warm. Turns out they are pork. And really, not that good. But some times you just have to satisfy your curiosity. The much better portion of the day was talking to our booth neighbor. The man seated (he wore a knee brace, and standing for 7 hours would, I'm sure, have aggrivated it further) next to us was selling Blue Stars. In WWI and II, a blue star in the window indicated that a member of your family was serving in the military. A gold star meant they'd been killed. This guy, whose name I don't know, was, upon the advice of his wife, bringing back that tradition. He had, and thankfully still has two sons serving in the armed forces. His son Aaron is currently stationed in forward recon, just north of Baghdad. The day before (July 3rd) he (Aaron) was manning a guard post when a 5 ton truck filled with explosives tried to break through the barricade. Aaron shot the Iraqi dead. His father recounted this story as though it were not the horrifying tale that he obviously knew it was. He was quiet and thoughtful. This man, himself a Chief Petty Office in the Guard, and scheduled to deploy to Iraq in November was patient with my questions, considerate with his answers and loving and proud of his sons. It gave me chills.

He talked about how his son (again, Aaron) was driving through Baghdad and saw sections of 40 inch diameter sewer piping laying out. He salvaged it, cut it into 3 foot tall sections and winched it up on to the top of a Humvee to enclose the area where the machine gunner sits. Apparently our 87 billion dollars never covered the cost of securing the gunner for the omnipresent Humvees. A few days after Aaron did this a gunner's life was saved when they were ambushed and an IED bounced off the steel of the impromptu-turret...as did several rounds of machine gun fire.

It was amazing to stand next to this guy. He was proud of his country, and I was/am as well. I mentioned, just to see what he thought, that I'd known some folks who took their liberalism to mean that they were justified in disliking soldiers. I figured he'd rail against them, instead he said, well it's important to have your opinions. And it's easy to get along with people who think like you do. But everyone is entitled to their thoughts. I'm glad I ended up next to this guy. Reminded me of why I think highly of the United States, even when I think little of its leadership.

A Pox on the Sox and Yanks

The back and forth on the Sox and Yankees has been fun. It may be to the point where it's gone as far as it can without becoming mutually annoying. Mark has rebutted Brian and asked that I post it on my blog. I went one better and made him his own...it's Green....like his wife's maiden name. It only has his one post. Maybe he'll never use it, maybe he'll like it. Who knows. But his views are now posted and linked from my blog. All is fair.

Incidently, both Brian and I agree Mark would make a stellar blogger, if he wanted to. But who knows if he'll decide to take up that role.

VP Wager and other candidates

So Phil James IMed me about a wager. I've never been a huge fan of betting, primarily because I like to win, and never seem to.

The bet, 5 dollars to Phil if SACK is the VP, and 5 dollars to Jen (in coffee) if Edwards is the VP. It's unsaid, but I'm assuming it's drink until you blackout(for each of us) if it's Gephardt.

Other never-mentioned possiblities:

1. Nick Lachey--married man, attractive, from a swing state (Ohio)
2. Randy Johnson--Tall, tall people seem good at politics
3. Cher--married to a politician before he was one, has a military record--you know that video, if I could turn back time...
4. That guy who plays Gollum--primarily because the debates would be funny
5. Estelle Getty--she could do PSAs for Miami voters about how to vote.
6. Mark Mothersbaugh from a swing state, innovator, Kerry would look good in those Devo hats.
7. David Lynch--creepy seemed to work for Bush with Cheney...if the American people want creepy, we'd have the A-bomb of creepy. Plus the commercials could be all trippy with Kerry doing drugs and having his head turn into the head of Howard Dean, plus some crazy ass lawnmower guy. So there's my pick. Kerry Lynch.

UPDATE:
I thought that the movie with the guy driving the lawn tractor across the country was Lynch. Maybe not. I am now less convinved than ever before that I know who the VP will be. I heard great arguments for The SACK, including that he will appear with Kerry in Pittsburg and that the SACK was born in Pittsburg. So who knows. All I know is that it's looking more and more like I own Phil money.

Guard Llamas

The farm that is attached to the museum where Jen's mom works has sheep. It also has llamas. Why you may ask does museum have llamas. To protect the sheep. Apparently in metro Boston (metro Boston!) there are predatory coyotes that prey upon the museum bound sheep. And Jen informs me that the museum received grant money to pay for a guard llama. That's right a guard llama. Then she found me an article from Iowa State that argues for llamas as effective guard animals. The world is a miraculous place.

"Guard llamas offer a viable, non-lethal alternative for reducing predation, while requiring little specialized training and care."
...
Before producers obtained their guard llamas, they had been losing an average of 26 sheep per year to
predation, or about 11 percent of their flocks. After obtaining their llamas, the producers’ losses dropped significantly to an average of 8 head per year, or about 1 percent; more than half of the producers had their losses reduced to zero. In their judgement, 80 percent of the producers rate their guard llama’s ability to reduce predation losses of their sheep as “very effective” or “effective.”

http://www.extension.iastate.edu/Publications/PM1527.pdf

Wonderful, wonderful llamas.

Don't Mess With Mondale

I was reading MyDD today. I'd never read it before. It's good, except this article which does a fine job of explaining why Dick Gephardt shouldn't be the VP (or in my mind the manager of an Arby's).

Relevant quotes:

can be argued Kerry owes his January victory in Iowa to Gephardt's suicide attack of Dean. But so what, all that showed, was that Gephardt was good at taking others down with him while he's busy losing. I'm trying to think of an equivalent scenario in the past, if Kerry were to choose Gephardt for VP. Probably the most recent that I'd choose would be the MN DFL choosing Former VP Walter Mondale over Alan Page, for the open Wellstone seat.

It was really good right up until he felt the need to go after Mondale. See, why do people have to fuck with Walter Mondale. I don't get it. So many people think they get it. Makes me livid. So my comment to them was as follows:

As a staffer for the Wellstone campaign, I just thought I'd shed some light on your finishing analogy: Walter Mondale was one of Paul Wellstone's political heroes. In his first term Paul bucked the Senate protocol of having the Senior Senator escort the Junior down the aisle the first time...instead Paul chose Walter Mondale. Also, Mondale was an author of Medicare, a sponsor of the voting rights act. Dick Gephardt has felt bad and looked morose, but has never once delivered a measure of any real consequence (at least to compare him to Mondale). Paul's sons picked Walter Mondale. Let it alone.
Otherwise, fantastic post. Dick Gephardt is a charmless man whom I believe is good hearted but himself failure in his chosen endeavor...ie, not getting our ass kicked up one side and down the other

To recap---Walter Mondale, good guy, liberal lion, beloved by Paul, amazing man. Seemingly all outside commentators ill informed, eager to seem liberal, denigrating the wishes of Paul's sons, oh...and just pissing me off.

Last recap. I now, with the addition of further information from good sources, believe that it will be Edwards. Yes, I'm just as bad as Dan Rather election night.

Seattle is great...for any number of reasons

Aaron and Jen

Seattle was amazing. It was a great trip. I spent nearly every waking moment either with Jen or Rachel (or getting lost on the way). Jen reads this blog, but it's nothing she doesn't already know: We had an incredible time, and I've never felt as comfortable with someone as I did with her. I felt at ease, and those who read this know that that's a rare feeling for me. I was, for nearly 4 days largely without worry. Sidenote: her apartment is really sunny, and the mountains were out, and she's silly, and seems to honestly value my view of things. All of which are very powerful worthwhile things that you can't see in this photo but are most assuredly part of the reason for my smile.

It's made coming back to work here in Fort Collins really hard. Somedays (like today) I am fighting with myself. I am fighting to stay focused, to feel useful, to keep at bay the demons of self doubt and self loathing that come from this line of work and specifically from the aching loneliness of being at the tip of the spear by your self. I'm used to big races with big staffs. This is neither. I call Buffy every day. She's the only Coloradoan who knows what I'm going through. She is going through the same thing. Isolation. Fatigue. Decidedly too little kool-aid.

But *then*, there is that photo above. It's cheerful (lots of primary colors and Ikea furniture) and I figure I can probably push through to November 2nd with a little help from my friends.

Tomorrow will be better, Mark Udall is coming. But today, and moreover tonight, I'm trying to fight with all my instincts which say why bother. Melodramatic, probably, but I am giving myself some license, I need it.

Should this make me feel strange?

I just got off the phone with my friend Amanda. She did our pro-choice organizing for Wellstone. She went to Carleton, but never played frisbee there. Rare. But I helped teach her to play, and she's become quite good. (which is neither here nor there, but it's simply background).

Amanda was nominally a Dean person when I was nominally in charge or partially in charge of the Dean group in Minnesota. The (cue the imperial march) she called me to say she was heading to Wisconsin to serve as a volunteer communications person for Kerry. I blurted out, "your boss (meaning Bill Burton) is a fucking asshole." I meant it. I don't know if I'd say that now, but nerves were raw. Etc. So we didn't talk a ton while we were both in Wisconsin. Since then we've traded messages. Today we talked. She's now heading down to Des Moines to work in Kerry's Iowa press staff. She's working out of the chicken coop, near the FOG. I don't know how I feel about this. That's a lie, I don't really like that at all. I am curious to see if the DEANVANCE carpet effect is still there.

But the really horrific news is this: The Minnesota for Kerry Campaign is based out of the old Wellstone for Senate office. I about drove off the road when I heard. Is that wrong? Is that silly? I've had ex girlfriends and they've each moved on, and yeah, I don't really like thinking of them with another guy (even though I don't wanna be their boyfriend), but this is far more of a violation of respect or something. Just makes me feel strange. I'll ask y'all....is that silly?

Who would have known.

To follow up on the exchange in the comments from my last post.

I've done some investigation and found this research article: Fecal Odor of New England Sports Fans

To summarize: Studies done by researchers at UMASS Boston have found, to the consertanation and bewilderment of scientists, old-wives, cliche writers and Yankees fans that excrement from those championing the local athletic teams of this small but clannish region (defined as MA, RI, VT, NH) fails to emit a recognizable odor.* The methodology was the really ingenious part. Researchers bravely ventured into the rest rooms at Red Sox Yankees games and with the doors closed measured the odor emitted from the stall. Then upon the occupant leaving the stall, they were asked their fan affiliation. While not quite a double blind, the survey seems to have some measure of accuracy. To allay any concerns about skew in the numbers from gender odor patterns, both male and female bathroom occupants were "tested." A concern which I have is whether over the stall the distinctive lilt and dignity of the Boston dialect may have prejudiced the researchers. For instance were "wicked good crap(s)" a tell tale sign of the affinity of the occupant. But even with that noise in the model the value of the study is amazing. Just think of all the bar bets that could be won, all the threaded message boards to which the term "Yankees Suck" might now be followed by "And their shit DOES stink."

Science, truly nature's greatest invention.

*Anthropological studies of the role of the culture of victimization and its effects on the odor of fecal matter are forthcoming. Similarly audiologists and psychologists will soon undertake an investigation as to the role that hearing "1918" chanted tunelessly for decades plays on the hearers bowels.