William Saletan Goes Off

William Saletan blasts the Republicans. Last night the GOP fell all over itself calling Bush a hero and some sort of Churchillian leader that they forgot--he is a photo op loving coward.

"Watching the attacks on Kerry and the glorification of Bush reminds me of something Dole said in his speech to the Republican convention eight years ago. It was "demeaning to the nation," Dole argued, to be governed by people "who never grew up, never did anything real, never sacrificed, never suffered and never learned."

64 Degrees of Separation

From Mark, originally sent to Kos...but I got a copy so I'm posting first...

"I'm a long time reader, and have an amusing (or sad, depending on how you look at it) story for you to use. My wife and I are former Ohioans. I'm from Columbus and she's from Northwest Ohio near Lima. She just got off the phone with her family and has a juicy tale about Bush's Saturday speech at Lima Senior High School. Word has it that Bush demanded that the building temperature be 64 degrees for the entirety of his visit. He said that he only likes to give his speeches wearing jackets. Maybe that's why we haven't seen him in a flight jacket lately, as the room temp can't be turned down enough to compensate! Anyway, because of this demand, the high school's air conditioning system broke down. Now hundreds of students will have to melt for awhile in the steamy Ohio summer because of the Primadonna-and-Chief."

I think it's funny that they have a specific temperature. Do you think there was a study commissioned about how much the President sweats when it's 64 vs 65? His advance people are the best in the business--but this is preposterous.

Yup.

The Return of LFABT

When I was in high school, together with several friends of mine, I talked of starting a PAC (Political Action Committee). Dr. Peet (my HS gov't teacher) got us all fired up about politics, and for some reason I fixated on the idea of starting one of these widely hated groups. I went to the library and found the address for Bill Bradley's Senate office. Mark suggested that he (Sen Bradley) would be a good person to ask for advice on the matter. I'm not sure why, but it seemed like solid advice to me. So I wrote to him of our (Mark, and myself...and maybe a few others') desire to form (and prepare to mock me): LFABT...which was the horrible ackronym for Liberals for a Better Tomorrow. Catchy right. Well Senator Bradley, or an obliging intern responded within a week or so with a "personal note" and some basic information on starting a PAC, etc. Suffice to say, I never followed through.

But today, I was realizing that while running a PAC isn't easy, it's certainly something I could do. I'd need to find good staffers, and seed money, but it's no longer something lightyears beyond my abilities. Most of it seems to be the irrational moxie that leads a 17 year old to write to a random Senator demanding information on how to form a stupidly titled PAC. There is a familiarity to those actions in my work here. The bumblebee shouldn't fly, but, as the saying goes, no one told the bumblebee.

Perspective

So it's 8:41 here in Seattle. I'm still at work. That makes this a 13 hour day. I'm tired, and a bit frustrated (most coworkers left at 5pm). But it puts into perspective the sickening hours of the Dean campaign. I would still have another 2-3 hours of work left if I were in Iowa and it were say...December. My piddly little 13 hour day would be easy, like a partial vacation day. I lived like that. I shared that lifestyle with many other people, most of whom I'd call sane. How is that?

And what is more, how is it that I miss that. People have started to stay later here. I don't expect people to want the long hours like I do. But if in the end I get another 1-2 hours worth of work done a day, I cannot help but imagine that that will mean more dollars in the door. And unlike campaigns, more hours of work here might then mean more reward to our candidates...and maybe to the rest of us.

I'm Wearing JKD's Shirt

Woke up this morning and searched out a dress shirt. Found one, a tan shirt, button down. Put it on, seemed slightly short in the sleeves, but I have a lot of dress shirts that are slightly short in the sleeves...my shoulders have broadened since I was 22. Never loved this tan shirt. But it went fairly well with the cordurouy pants. Rolled up the sleeves, in classic Aaron/Howard Dean fashion and off I went.

Sat down at work, and noticed a little tag on the shirt tail. Flipped it over.

"KRAMER-DUFFIELD"

Apparently I am wearing another man's shirt. Fits fairly well, though.

Day 2 at DAPAC, Slugs, REI, and Poker

So today is my second day here at DAPAC (pronounced like DAY Pac, not like Da Bears, though how I wish it were). Getting paid to write. It's a nice deal. I'm writing fundraising letters, and stuff like that. It's not the great American novel, or a Theodore Sorenson speech, but I like it and try to do well. We shall see. The better we do at raising money the better we can do for our candidates--all demonstrably progressive candidates in fairly close districts. It's a challenge, but one that I hope my skills allow me to surmount.

The weekend was good. Jen and I went hiking on the site of an old anti-aircraft battery, and former Nike missile site. (Nike missile, made by American defense contractors and not Malaysian children--just to clarify). While hiking I was treated to the sight of several of the varieties of slugs that make their home here in moist Seattle. Big slugs. Slugs that fear no salt. Slugs that are the length of a long cigar.

I found an apartment. I am living at The Republican Apartments. Isn't it ironic. Way more so than if I had rain on my wedding day. Or any variety of free ride. I will soon reside at 1819 E. Republican (206). Should be good. It's a nice place, and it's across the street from Jen. You know what they say: Location, location, location. Things are coming together here. I went to REI last weekend. It's amazing. The REI here in Seattle is daunting and wonderful, it is to outdoorsy folks what the Mall of America is to an upper midwest housewife with a puffy christmas tree sweater---mecca. A home, a place that embodies your every commercial, acquisitive fantasy. I even think I saw a climber from Montana bowing, and weeping from joy at the sight of the building. Then he circled it. Or maybe I thought I saw that. Strange.

So stay tuned for more updates, and more on the work here. Right now I'm trying to get people with money and good ideals to give it to other people with no money but similar ideals.

Oh, and I'm going to be joining Jen's male friends for poker soon. Someone sent me directions on how to play. It was like reading braille with mittens on...suffice to say I don't know what I'm doing. Here's hoping I don't lose either all my money or what little dignity I pretend to have. Dave Karpf--I call on you to offer suggestions, so that I may take money from the Microsofties...or at least defend my own money.

(Oh, and Jen would probably put this in the comments if I didn't mention it here...but "Poker, I hardly even know her."

What a difference a month makes

One month ago yesterday I was being fired. Yesterday I was hired as the communications director for DAPAC. I start on Monday. A month ago I was trying to pack my old place. Today I'll probably decide between one of three apartments and move in soon thereafter. A month ago, I was in the Mountain time zone, living alone in Fort Collins. Now I'm in the crazy, wacky PDT living with the love of my life in Seattle.

In other news, I biked around Green Lake a few times today. It's a 3 mile loop. There are two lanes. One for walkers the other for rollerbladers and bikers. This is apparently far to complex for a great many people. I want to carry a ball peen hammer and smack people in the noggin. There was a couple that I called to three times to let them know I was on their left. They occupied the entire bike lane and slowed down. Hmmm. Also if there is a dividing line why would you spend your entire time walking on the fucking line...especially if genetics has bestowed upon you a bow legged wobbly walk and very large grith so that you (and god may smite me for this) resemble a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Balloon being escorted down the path swaying and tilting in the slightest breeze. Just wondering. I might bike elsewhere in the future, if only because of my blood pressure. I love Seattle. But it has some problems in common with all cities (things I sorta liked not having to deal with in Fort Collins). Crowds and parking shortages. Oh well. It's nice to be able to complain about silly small things instead of joblessness...or being away from Jen. It's been really nice to be with Jen and to get used to what it means to live with someone you really love. The balance etc. It's very rewarding. She's just as wonderful up close.

There's No Frontin' In Frisbee

In A League of Their Own, Tom Hanks turns to Betty Spaghetti and says, "There's no crying in baseball." Great line. True for baseball. But my rule for frisbee is "There's no frontin' in frisbee." Especially in pickup. Don't be a dick. Just don't.

I went out and played last night. Did alright. Threw for a few nice scores. Some decent defense. A few nice hammers. Not too bad. But the people I played with were all so concerned with "looking stoic, and cool." You play frisbee. Men wear skirts, and people like JKD are accepted. Come now. You cannot be a dick. It's just not right.

Take this point for example. (again, I'm not that good, I just play hard and congratulate everyone when they play well). A teamate of mine gets beat deep. I pinch over from my man come over the top of both my teamate and the offender and outjump them taking the disc away. Hit the ground hard. Bounce up, dump the disc to a handler, and sprint up the line. Get the disc back, though I layout backwards to get it. Swing the disc to the center and cut upfield. Again I get the disc back. I put up an ill advised but gorgeous big bending forehand that curves over the head of this 30 something guy. My teamate reads it and catches it for the score. I walk to the line and the guy I tooled says, "You should never throw that again." My first thought was to turn and say, "why, because it reinforced in your mind just how long it's been since you were good?" but I just smiled. Jerk.

Lemonade and Goose Livers

Steve, a very nice friend of Jen's, invited a mess of people (and me, see told you he was nice) to a going away party at this restaurant The Chapel. It's posh and fancy. I am many things. Not those.
I perused the menu at The Chapel...
Foie Gras { 15. }
Chilled torchon of foie gras with fruit compote and sesame baguette.

What you may well ask is a torchon?
Pronunciation: 'tor-"shän
Function: noun
Etymology: French, duster, from Old French, bundle of twisted straw, from torche
: a coarse bobbin or machine-made lace made with fan-shaped designs
forming a scalloped edge

that's right it's chilled goose liver formed into a machine made lace
with a scalloped edge. Spiffy, no? If I'm going to eat the part of the goose that removes toxins from goose blood...it damn well better be lacy.

In other news--my interview went very well (DAPAC). Not beyond the realm of possiblity that I'll be their communications director. Plus I may have found an apartment across the street from Jen's. Life is handing me lemonade. Thanks life, you're the greatest.

[Ed note: According to Jen the term torchon refers to rolled, sliced liver. Well don't that beat all.]

The ABJ's Alarm Clock Memorial Cartoon

Idiots!

No, not a post about Napoleon Dynamite. Though, I'll hope to share that film with Jen in the next few days.

Two stupid things from the past few days.

1. My replacement in Colorado fired a volunteer. A guy that I'd had doing volunteer recruitment (Mike) was fired. They decided that there wasn't enough work for him to be doing. Which, is as you well know, complete steaming bullshit. Mike was fired, I bet, for being one of the folks upon whom I most relied. I don't doubt that this hurt his chances of remaining involved. Because my replacement, I'm guessing is a traditional establishment guy meaning he feels like he needs to clean house. Also this suggests he is a moron. There is no one (even the Loon) who cannot contribute. Oh, and Mike is friends with the son or nephew (not sure which) of the Political Director for CEA. Good move Replacement.

2. Jenny who was staying with Jen when I arrived was ticketed for jaywalking in Seattle. Cops pulled her over, such as they are able in this case, and she was given a ticket for "failing to heed a don't walk sign." That's stupid. I want to know if they asked her, "Do you know why I've walked up next to you and asked you to stop walking?"

Lame Man in the Land of Hipsters

Seattle is an amazing city. It's first off full of great neighborhoods. I'm living (staying) on Capitol Hill. It feels like a great hybrid of the Wedge and Uptown in Minneapolis mixed with the Short North from Columbus. Gay, progressive, street culture, shops, eateries, funky...but without being opressively cool. I don't feel like I'm breaking some moral code by not wearing a too tight green t-shirt, and worn wide wail cords. Meeting Jen's friends was reassuring. They aren't scenesters. They are big, overeducated dorks. Microsofties ('softies, in my personal vernacular), non-profity folks, Amherst grads, Yalies. Rock climbers and bree eaters, but neither to the exclusion of mainly just being fun folks. I spent Friday night watching the sun set behind the Cascade Mountains while sitting on a beach with great conversation, and a bit of frisbee. Life is good. The frisbee did result in me laying out into a large pile of drift wood. I'm nothing if not consistent. Namely any opportunity to injure myself in pursuit of a disc, I'll take. On Thursday we were at the same beach, Golden Gardens (which I swear sounds like a crappy Chinese Buffet) and played beach volley ball. The previously un-defeating (winless...in english) Fuzzy Marmots of Doom were able to win. I pretended to be Tony, an absent male teammate. We won three games. This was 3 more than they'd ever won. Tony! Tony! TONY! Indeed.

I have an interview with DAPAC on Tuesday. Not sure what kind of an interview it'll be. Should be interesting. The head is a fan of Wellstone. That always helps.

Oh, and Jen and I are doing well. Saturday was harder than any day prior. But we talked, and figured out what was bothering each of us. It was just as it should be. And then Sunday was wonderful. It's so strange, and so rewarding. Maybe it's strange because of just how rewarding it is.

Out of Thin Air

I'm sitting in a Seattle coffee shop. Across the way from me is a young rabbi with a Kerry shirt helping this couple plan their wedding. (The guy in the wedding is nerdy and anxious, clearly eager, but trying to show how smart he is. I cannot imagine being a nerdy anxious guy trying to demonstrate how smart I am...) Hmmmmm.

In other news, as per the 1st sentence I'm in Seattle.

The air is heavy here. It's full of oxygen and water. It's not rainy, it's just fucking heavy. Photos of the trip will follow. But a quick recap (maybe more recaps later).

Total miles driven 1440+
Stops (including to sleep) 7 (6 stops for gas, and one at Motel 6 in Boise).
Hours Spent listening to Krakauer's "Into Thin Air" 6
States: 5
Days:2
Meals: 1

At a market in Grand Junction I saw a sign that read: "Employees: If someone needs help with slaughtering transfer the call to Ron in the meat department. If Ron isn't here contact the manager." Apparently this is a concern...slaughtering. Yikes. More observations to follow...as I get some rest. I'm beat.

As I Walk in the Shadow of the Valley of the Sangre De Christos

After a brief visit to Colorado Springs where my dad had a GIS conference (90% excuse to see me in Colorado 10% chance to learn about GIS). I am back in Alamosa. Colo Springs was nice, if horrendously conservative. There will later be some photos from the experience (but I cannot download photos here). We went to Garden of the Gods. The story behind the name is great. Settlers crested the hill and looked out on the fins (geological feature) and the sandstone arches, and one of them declared this is a great place for a beer garden. Another stated that this was a place for the Gods. Garden of the Gods. No beer is sold there, in fact that's part of the contract that allowed the land to become publicly owned (no intoxicating liquors).

Also in Colo Springs, is Mount Cheyenne. Which looked for most of the trip like a mountain with radio towers on it. Then on the final day I found out that inside the mountain is NORAD. Pretty badass stuff. I am a fairly large, if only partially well versed-fan of NORAD. The idea of being able to run most of the country from inside a mountain seems cool. Colorado College students on September 11th were afraid that hijackers would try and fly planes into NORAD. Their prof reassured them that flying a plane into a MOUNTAIN was not likely to be very effective. Ahhh panic, eroder of logic.

In other news, I'm going horse back riding today. Should be fun. I'm not much of a horseman, or horsecow, or horsefly, etc. Essentially I like horses in the abstract and like riding them, but franly the overwhelming allure that grasps my sisters imagination never got to mine. Speaking of which (sister) I've started my sister on her own blog. I may post about it later, but for now I'm going to offer her some annonymity.

This time on Wednesday I will be 3 hours+ into my trip to Seattle. Man, I'm dying to see Jen again.



Oh, I almost forgot. I went back to the Sand Dunes last night with my family (father and sister, uncle, and aunt) and saw a 5 person (down from their normal 8) barbershop quartet (I realize that quartet means 4 and not 8 or 5...but cut them some slack). They were eager. They tried very hard. Their voices were not the best. There were moments of forced notes, and disharmony (though in their defense it was terribly windy, and the pieces were arranged for 8 not 5) And they told corny jokes--a la a cappella groups the world over, it was familiar and reassuring. They didn't do Obertones-esque skits, but that may be on the horizon. But it was a great evening all the same. Good photos. Great setting. And middle aged men trying their best.

hINTERNETlands II

The computer I'm using doesn't allow Javascript, so going back in blogger and editing the previous posts is impossible. Meaning I have to tack on this to the last post.

Basic updates: I was good at parts of go-carting...namely figuring out the line of travel that allowed maximum speed (in this case hugging the curves meant your car shifted sideways a bit and you lost power). I was bad at picking the fastest car. I won the first race. And lost the second, because I was forced off the road into a pile of tires. No fiery, Earnhardt jr-esque crash. Just me sitting there shaking my fist at my cousin by marriage.

I should explain that (the CBM). Since I was not planning on being fired, I was not planning on coming down to Alamosa at this time. Neither were my aunt and uncle. however, I was, and I have. My aunt's brother, sister-in-law and their 4 children did plan on visiting. So it's been a time to blend families. It's been fun for the most part. The Millers (them) are generally pleasant and I love children so that's been great. I was refered to by the 7 year old (while out of sight, and he thought earshot) as Mr. Big Guy. This was said fondly...or so I tell myself. Sunday was fishing. Flyfishing skills came back (I guess those years of casting on my front lawn, while people mocked me came in handy)in a hurry. Caught two fish (both rainbow trout). A 12 incher and a 10 inch fish. My skills at removing the fish are quite a bit more suspect. Touching fish, sorta bothers me. Makes me look like a skittish little pansy---which in this case is wholly accurate. So I need to get over that fear, awkwardness...whatever. Because, I'm planning on resuming fly fishing (in some limited capacity) when I move to Seattle. They have lots of fish there, and lots of places to stand in pretty flowing water and cast a line...and then catch nothing. Which frankly, is my real talent. I can cast really well...and I rarely catch anything. So long as that becomes a prime portion of the goal--I'm golden.

After fishing---there was dinner. After the 2nd fishing excursion of the evening, there were s'mores. After s'mores there was night time hide-and-go-seek.

Day Two of the Blended Family Jamboree.
Breakfast. Driving into Creede. (not, suprisingly enough, named for the crappy Pearl Jam wanna be band). Creede is a small little town (though mineral county, where Creede is the county seat only has 872 residents) where mining was the big industry. But not that big. They now have an underground mining museum. It was fairly nice. Certainly very cool (57 degrees or so). I learned that most of mining is a process called mucking. The audio tour used the word muck in nearly every sentence and several times several times in a sentence. After the U.M.M. we went for a picnic. Turkey sandwich. Then more fishing, this time in the Rio Grande. I was skunked (fishing jargon...it's coming back, for not catching anything). But was the only fisherperson to see a fish, and get a strike (when the fish takes the fly, sometimes, as in my case it "spits the fly" --and you do not hook the fish).

Yesterday was a trip to the Great Sand Dunes National Monument. Volcanic sand from the San Juan mountain range (a long way off) was blown and concentrated between two mountain passes...and ends up pushed into a curve in the Sangre De Christo mountains (near Alamosa). Home to the largest sand dunes in the US, the park is a great sight if nothing else. Several dunes are well over 600 feet tall, with Star Dune at 750. Climbing is so fricking hard. You gain 400 feet and then go down, then gain another 300 feet and go down. So climbing up a 500+ dune (as we did) takes the better part of forever. Sand storms, etc. It was a great time though. Last time I was there was as a 13 year old kid. I hiked off by myself without water, and climbed a very tall dune, and for my efforts and stupidity earned a mighty headache and some dehydration for good measure. I brought water this time. 12 years and more than a few headaches from dehydration later--I've learned at least that.

Fun on the dunes was followed by the Colorado Gators. A fish farm in the area (stocking tillapia) uses a natural aquifer that produces water that's 87 degrees. In the 70s they wanted an efficient way to gather and dispose of the many dead fish that such an operation yields (They are shipping 2,000 lbs of fish to Denver a day). The answer was alligators. So they bought hundreds of alligators and now have this dual operation (or dueling operation). The "attraction" is hot and dusty and honestly not that pleasant. There are lots of alligators, and snakes, and turtles and lizards and millions of flies. At 12 and 4 a 14 year old kid (son of the owner) goes out and feeds some of the smaller gators (8-10 feet long..so smaller is relative). He invites people to join him in the pen to toss fish to the gators. Then he lassoes one of the gators drags it, very much against its will, to the shore and then sits on it and wraps its jaw with duct tape. It's a violent and unpleasant process to watch. Finally after the gator is wrapped and subdued (with some force) children are allowed to sit on the gator and get a digital photo taken. The basic message seems to be--even our children can dominate nature...if we cheat. It turned my stomach. It was rounded out by the fact that every child sitting on the alligator was from a Church Group (or the Millers one of whom was wearing a shirt from her church youth group). I turned to the youth group leader, a too cool for school adult, and said, "sort of a depressing attempt at showing our dominion over nature." Blank stare. Again, too cool, or wildly confused.

After that home, then came go carting.

So that's my past few days. Should be some photos to document, but mainly I've left my camera in the car--don't want to ruin it with sand, water, gators, go-carts, etc.

My sister and father arrive in Colorado Springs tomorrow. I'll drive up to meet them there. Who knows what we'll do. But should be great to see them. And then a week from today--I will be driving to Seattle.

hINTERNETlands

I'm here in southern colorado. It's beautiful. I'm doing well. But the internet, well it's novel and fairly sporadic. My access is limited, and that's just fine.

I've gone fishing (two trout, thank you very much--10 and 12 inches respectively).

I'm being called to go go-carting with cousins by marriage...long story, one that'll get told later.

for now I'm going to drive low to the ground, and dangerously.