Eye, Eye.

In the wild, with my eyesight, I'd probably be lucky to last a fortnight. Without correction I live in a blurry, fuzzy world of amorphous shapes and colors. I would be sure to end up in some large predator's stomach in a less civilized time.

When I was about seven years old I was first diagnosed with extreme nearsightedness and I remember the doctor fitting me with my first pair of clunky, black horn rimmed glasses. In my bermuda shorts, high black socks and florsheims, I cut quite the large fashion picture in my youth. Throw a little astigmatism in with my nearsightedness and I am nearly blind without my specs.

When I was about a year older at the tender age of eight, living in Las Cruces, New Mexico I got shot in the left eye with a b-b gun by a shot fired by a poor mexican schoolmate, a pellet that just missed a vital area and the doctors said I was very lucky to not get blinded.

I don't remember my four eyes coming into play again until I was about eleven or twelve. I was living in Syosset, New York. My friends and I would sometimes ride our bikes on the weekends on the long trip out to Oyster Bay, past beautiful lakes and tall trees. I made a very stupid mistake going down a particular hill on my english racer, applying pressure to my front brake. The bike pitched me ass over teakettle and I landed on my face. Both lenses on my glasses broke like bullet holes and a sheet of blood covered my head. A passerby took me to a hospital and I remember the doctors digging the shards of glass out of my eye, something that has to unfortunately be done while you are completely awake.

The upshot is that I have always been very cautious and phobic about my eyes. I can't touch them and resist having anyone else touch them. I fight with my ophthalmologist over something as simple as an eye drop. I realized early on that contacts were not even a possibility. My percentage of cornea to retina or iris (or whatever the correct optical physiological element is) is such that the Lasix people said that that procedure was also not in the cards for me although there is a chance PRK might work.

Having glasses your whole life is a bit of the drag. Swimming and surfing are more difficult, bar fights are out of the question. When I fought martial arts, I had to use cumbersome goggles when I was sparring.

I read something once about a study, I believe that it was from UCLA, that surmised that the reason jewish men typically are so near sighted and have such a large percentage of males that wear glasses is that jewish mothers  release an extra shot of the testosterone hormone to their male offspring that results in excessive eyeball growth in the last trimester, hence lots of glasses as well as a few other particular attributes that I don't need to go into now.

Anyway I have always been a very visual person and I rely on my eyes in a major way, first as a young artist and painter and now as a person who sells art and antiques. I relate to the world in a visually dominant way.

I remember also reading once about a study  regarding racial distinctions and sensory perception. Blacks are said to be aurally dominant, depending more on their hearing than caucasians. Black linemen were getting called for offsides violations at a higher rate than their white team mates. It turns out that they were actually hearing the whistles before their pasty colleagues or the mostly white referees. Which may point to a need for some sort of racial equalization device in the future to counter perceptual differences. But I digress.

Several years ago I had heart surgery for a murmur and a bad mitral valve. They cracked my sternum like a chicken breast and fixed my ticker. But at the end of the procedure I had an unfortunate occurrence  Amaurosis Fugax. My heart was sending tiny blood clots to my eyes and I was experiencing temporary blindness in my eyes, with a gray curtain obscuring parts of my visual field like a gray steel door slamming shut. Fugax scared the hell out of me and they kept me hospitalized for about five more days. I got to visit a top neuro ophthalmologist, Frishburg and doctors were very worried, the event being an early indicator of the possibility of a giant stroke. Had the carotid checked and finally the symptoms went away but not before scaring the shit out of me.

I read an article last week about a guitar player Jeff Golub, who just lost his sight, very quickly and unexpectedly, and the difficulty he is now experiencing in his life.

I had been thinking that I was overdue to see my eye doctor. Last time I saw him he said that he noticed a particular lattice that leads him to think that I am a candidate for a detached retina. He said that if I saw flashing lights to get to a hospital immediately as time would be of the essence. He was also amazed to see that my prescription was 20/15 corrected, very high for a visually impaired person. I had been told by the Lasix people that my corrected vision was so good that I would never see as well after an operation as I did with glasses.

Last sunday I was at a friend's home when a large circular shape appeared in my left eye's field of vision, an occluded blurry ring. I called the doctor at home that afternoon and he ascertained that it was not a retinal or Fugax problem but what he called a visual migraine. It lasted for about 45 minutes.

I went in to see him a few days later so that he could make sure all was copacetic and he gave me a clean bill. But when he tested my sight I blew him away again. I now read 20/10, which I think is sort of unheard of. The next step is x-ray vision. He held up the microscopic print and I read from about five feet away, I think a first for the office. Must be my intense nearsightedness or maybe some new superpower that I'm not supposed to talk about.

See you around and take care of your eyes.

I'm One - Pete Townshend

Mille Fleurs

We had company come down from the bay area yesterday and decided to all go out for a nice meal. Our guests were Melissa, our favorite chef, who cooks privately for a lot of very interesting clients up north and her boyfriend, my buddy Gary.

This is the first week of San Diego's Restaurant Week. Restaurant week is the biannual event when a couple hundred of the finest eateries in the area serve meals at extra reasonable prices, with prix fixe dinners at $20 to $40 bucks a head. This gives us folks from the provinces the opportunity to break bread with the tony elite.

Of course, this can sometimes lead to problems. Long time blog readers might remember two years ago when the haughty restauranteur told me that he was dropping the whole deal, because he wasn't going to cater to a bunch of "Joe Sixpacks" twice a year. This of course was after our table ponied up over seven hundred dollars for the privilege of having the more favored guests blow cigar smoke at our table all night. Earlier in the year we had a fabulous meal at Pampelmousse, free from issues and full of gustatory pleasure.

We were lucky enough to get reservations at Mille Fleurs, thought by many of the food loving people I know to be the best restaurant in the whole county. I hadn't been for about fifteen years, and that was a lunch, so I wanted to see if the place indeed lived up to billing.

We met our friends in the beautifully Lillian Rice designed village of Rancho Santa Fe. A covenant laden with eucalyptus planted in the 19th century for railroad ties until somebody figured out that they had a habit of splitting and were unusable. Twenties era spanish revival architecture at its most perfect apogee. It is no wonder so many of the wealthy elite choose to live there. We entered the courtyard and I made my way to the maitre d's station where we were met by the lovely Melissa, the woman I had talked to on the telephone who kept assuring me that there would be no problem with any of my requests. I wanted to make sure that the restaurant week clientele wouldn't be eating from some dressed down menu in the basement with the rest of the serfs. She assured me that that was never the case at Mille Fleurs.

Mille Fleurs is a really lovely and ambient establishment. Very nicely appointed but relaxed. The first thing I was aware of was the large amount of wait staff, like French Laundry but not pompous or pretentious. Handsome french men, at least according to our significant others, I saw one female server. Melissa spends a lot of time in France and wondered how they found so many fun and friendly frenchmen, seemingly with no attitude whatsoever.

We started off with water and then drinks. Vodka all around and throw in an Amstel Light for Gary. The menus were a bit big and cumbersome and one of my companions accidentally jettisoned her drink after knocking into it. They came over and told her not to worry. They brought back half a cocktail which was kind of strange. I think that we would have paid for a full one but I guess that we were dealing with gallic sensibilities here and so she paid a small penalty for her clumsiness.

We had a basket of good bread, then ordered a fois gras appetizer for the table, accompanied by delicious figs. Gary ordered the yellowfin tartare with caviar and creme fraiche. Mini twinkie mounds of tuna, very nice effort. Melissa and I had absolutely superb corn soup with a red bell pepper decoration. It was so rich and the Chino Farms corn was flavorful, intense and powerful. Leslie had the lobster, shrimp and sea scallop boudin, which she adored. I looked around for my buddy Jim's favorite dish at Mille Fleurs, the shadroe cases but didn't see them. The fois gras was good but in my opinion not up to the gold standard for fois gras in the area that is served at Vincents.

Somewhere along the line we ordered a glass of pouilly fuissé and then the bottle. The girls liked it, I wasn't crazy about it. Outvoted on the sancerre.

We received our entrees after a minor wait. Melissa had the freshwater whitefish meuniére which she thought tasted more like sole. Gary had the weinerschnitzel, which was topped with sliced caper berries and a quail egg. Leslie had the three style mixed grill with a slider(?) and I tried the duck breast with huckleberries, with purple potatoes and broccoli.

We all shared each other's dishes of course, as is our habit and my feeling is that the dinner was very good but certainly never approached sublime or great. The schnitzel tasted a bit dry and unadorned to me, mixed grill good but not inspiring, whitefish lacking something. To be fair my dinner companions all loved their entrees, so I am only speaking for myself. My dish was tasty but was a touch under sauced and just didn't meld completely. The huckleberries are a great compliment to the duck. The potatoes were alpo shaped cubes that were both tasteless and unappealing and the two small limp pieces of broccoli accompanying the dish were also quite lacking. But as I said, my companions were happy and said that they were all pleased with the meal. Guess you can't please everybody.

Dessert was crepe suzette and chocolate mousse cake that tried but maybe not hard enough. We got our bill and with all the extras ended up paying about $400.00 including tip. Which now that I look at the website might have been too much, since the website says that a 20% gratuity was already figured in. I swear I never saw a tip added in. Oh well.

I queried my wife about the meal on the drive home. She said 7 or 8 out of 10. I concur. It missed that magic hidden something that elevates the great to the extraordinary. I want to go back and try it on a normal night. They were awfully busy. The staff was charming and professional. Restaurant week is tough. Hard to maintain consistency and your food standards with the great influx of the unwashed like me at your door. While the food was maybe not sublime, the atmosphere was wonderful and it is still a great eating experience. Looking forward to giving it another try.

Martin Simpson - "She Slips Away"

What's the frequency, Kenneth?

Three of my favorite blogophiles stopped by today, the women from Guacamole Gulch and sisters Barbara and Nancy graced my doorstep this afternoon. With my existence now normally confined to cyberspace, meetings on the physical plain seems so neat and well, retro.

They are all very nice, intelligent and creative people and it always a pleasure to both see and read  them.

Helen told me about a dream she had the other night. She was in my home, only it was a very large house. She entered our bedroom and my wife Leslie was in some sort of resplendent outfit propped up on the bed. I was at my desk, banging away feverishly on an old Smith - Corona, hunting and pecking my way through some tale or other. Not exactly kissing my ring, but I did apparently grant her an audience, at least on this somnambulant visit. She said that she looked around and there were hundreds of people waiting for their own audience with yours truly.

All I can say is that I am flattered by my participation in her somnolent exercise and I hope that everyone in line was happy with my keen reasoning and dashing wit. Over here in the world which we operate I'm just another schmo but in dreamland I'll have you know I am just blowing up.

***

Grumpy has, unfortunately, got a bit ticked off with me and is taking his leave again. I love his enthusiasm but I have tried to tell him that maybe the only thing worse than my monologue is a continual online dialogue. I was putting his multiple comments up anonymously and I think that he felt slighted, understandably. I just felt that certain comments were unduly reactive and unnecessary. If I hit a serve down the court, I like an ace now and then without a return. I think that he will be back. We do this now and then.

***

I read somewhere that the greatest rock band in the world, REM, was breaking up. In what universe? Give me a break. Are they still together? Where in the hell have they been for the last 15 or 20 years. Stipe kind of lost me when he opined that they were a better band then the Beatles. Bye Bye REM, take U-2 with you on the way out the door.

***

You probably won't hear about it on Al Jazeera or any of your left wing networks but the first female political prisoner was found murdered in Syria today, mutilated and decapitated. The 18 year old girl was said to have "died in detention."

***

A friend and client from Chile was in the other day and we had a very interesting conversation about the country of his birth. I wanted to know how he had reacted to my article about the alleged Chilean torture ship Esmeralda. He was forthright and gave me his views about the whole Allende (pronounce a-jen-day) coup and CIA complicity.

My friend said that Latin America has traditionally had a pretty rigid class hierarchy of both the very wealthy and the very poor. He mentioned that during the reign of Allende, inflation went up and that in his traditionally resource rich country one could not even find a loaf of bread to eat.

Allende started to nationalize businesses, much like Hugo Chavez has done and similar to what has happened in Zimbabwe under Mugabe. Workers would enter businesses, some owned and run by the same family for two hundred years and simply announce that they were taking over. And of course, they all went to shit.

We discussed the between 3500 and 20,000 political prisoners said to be murdered by our proxy, the bad general. Teachers, union leaders, people with concern for the poor, clergy. He thought it unfortunate but said that in the Chile he remembers at the time, all of these strange communists in battle fatigues from places like Russia and Cuba started showing up. The country pre Pinochet was getting run into the ground. A weak and fairly moderate Allende was caught in a crucible between left and right and Kissinger finished the job.

My Chilean friend regrets the way the coup took place and the misery that occurred. Perhaps if we had let the people of Chile decide that things were so bad that they maybe start their own real revolution and not give in to a junta that threw people out of airplanes.

The reality is that with populism, and I will confine my comments to Latin America for now, the have nots and those living at the marginal status quo will accept about any political system that shits on their rich neighbor and puts food in their own mouths.

***

Rick Santorum thinks that there is no call for a person to announce their sexual orientation in the military and we should go back to DADT. My question is why then should it be permissible to exhibit blatantly heterosexual conduct and let people know that you are straight?

***

Manny sent this interesting tidbit over.

***

I keep thinking of Casablanca. Pakistan is shocked, shocked that the ISI is collaborating with the Haqqani network to attack western targets. (Your winnings, sir.) The double game of all double games, they speak out of the side of their mouths, still smarting over the arrest of Bin Laden right next to their wheelhouse. 3.5 billion american dollars a year, for the biggest criminal backstabbers in the whole region.

Buckets of Rain

It tolls for thee...

© Robert Sommers

Leslie and I visited the Fallbrook School of the Arts Friday night on the occasion of the Artwalk. They were having another bronze pour. The Fallbrook foundry program started so many years ago by Wendell Perry is now enjoying a nifty rebirth and renaissance  under the new and able direction of Brandon Roy.

Roy, 29, studied bronze and casting techniques in Italy at the Florence Academy of Arts for three years under the tutelage of Robert Bodem. He has a quiet competence and skill set that belies his relatively young age.

Friday, he was casting a bell, which we decided to buy. Watching bronze get cast is both mesmerizing and electric.

The bell we purchased is the fifth bell he has made in bronze and is currently a work in progress.

Today I decided to pay my bell in waiting a visit and talk to Brandon a bit about his artistic creations. A very nice, soft spoken guy, he was happy to talk about his work.

First the technical stuff. Brandon showed me how he makes his sand molds and weighs the bronze pieces that he has calculated are necessary to fill his molds. It takes about seven pounds of bronze to make the smaller bell.

He heats his fire up to 2100º fahrenheit and then lets it settle down and pours at a cool 1950º.

The pour is a pretty critical zone, some years ago I watched a pour go afoul and spill all over the place. It is dangerous and you have to be on guard at all times.

The flame coming out of the crucible was glowing with the most beautiful green flame shooting out of the sides of the cylinder. A pyromaniac's wet dream! Nothing went afoul friday, I am happy to report. We watched the artisans don their special suits and then try to coax the molten metal into doing what it was told.

Our friend's the Fish's bought the other bell that was poured. The bells are built  in two sizes and they are really quite affordable. The bells are decorated with lovely historic japanese iconography.

Brandon tells me that he was originally influenced by the Arcosanti bells of Paolo Soleri but delved back even farther and found even more inspiration in the bell casting techniques of the early japanese craftsmen, whose bells tended to have much better tone than Soleri's which seemed more involved with the aesthetic and form than the ultimate function and sonic signature.

He showed me the exterior cylindrical knobs adorning the surface that are integral to his design and which he found that he can modify to alter the ultimate tone of the individual bell.

He fashions the strikers from the spill that is left at the top of the mold and fashions a simple collar that will allow the bell to ultimately hang from a chain.

Today Brandon was grinding excess material off the top of the bell where it had been attached to the trivets in the mold. We talked about the patina I would like to see on my bell and I checked out the sweet gong striker he has devised. He has quite a few hours in each bell, they are an act of artistry and love. I would highly suggest that you get your name on a list while you still can. Will post a picture of my finished bell next week.

Ring my Bell

Mixed Bag

The planet has been a bit dark of late. We had the second familial murder/suicide story in as many weeks hit the local papers yesterday. And a marine corps chopper, the kind that continually flies over my valley, went down the next valley over the other day, on the heels of the Reno disaster and the crash in Russia that iced the beloved Lokomotiv Yaroslavl hockey team.

A good friend confided in me that he has M.S. and is going through a lot of marital drama and processing at home. Several friends have lost their parents in the last week and my father's own state of dementia is weighing heavily on my psyche. Another friend has valley fever and I have a sister who just had major surgery and won't slow down. The House is threatening to shut down government again on September 30th, this time dems who object to their opponents carving out all the disaster funding out of a popular energy program.

I am told that I have been an edgy, irritable grump of late, but what else is new. And no, it wasn't my wife telling me this time. Have been a bit of a pill. Can't find the time to read or write. I hope that we all get a little positive boost and wish all within and beyond blogshot health and happiness.

*

I read something yesterday about the recent grizzly attacks in Yellowstone. It is germane to me because I will be there in a few weeks and do not want either my spouse or myself to end up as some ursine supper. The article said that the late couple provoked the bear by screaming and making noise. You know, a bear starts mauling my extremities, I think I might yell a bit myself, no point coming off as some cool Gary Cooper wannabe with a grizzly's incisors sunk deeply into my gluteus.

*

I had a cheap dime store epiphany on the way to work this morning. I passed a banner at St. Stephen's church that read "Mornings for Mommies." And I had the thought that I would sooner take the grizzly's place and chew my own arm off than hang around a bible study or the like with a bunch of born again mommies.. Everyone is free to believe, and if you want to do it conspicuously it is your choice, it's just not my bag. To each his own.

But if you look at the matter in macro or on a national scale, I think I start see the roots of our problem. We have two fairly fat and equal paradigms trying to inhabit the same limited space and things are getting a little too cozy and squishy. We live in two distinct little worlds, and they manage to function fairly independently, the problems arise when the edges start to overlap. A certain group needs homogeneity and control and the other faction wants to be left alone.

Those with faith want to trumpet that faith and evangelize, and then there are the faithless apostates like me who reject authority in most every guise. And it seems to me that if the believers had a little less faith, it just might be better for all of us in the long run. At least for the environment anyway. (Remember the video I put up last year from the congressman who chairs the environmental committee who said that the good book was infallible and assures us that man can never harm god's creation?) Do a little clean up on old terra firma before you waltz on over to the pearly gates. But then again, as my Stanford ethics professor friend once told me, if we had more people believing in a punitive place called hell, maybe people would be cowed into a more moral behavior. Even if we did have to invent it.

Each side is so sure that they have the moral or intellectual high ground that they have written the other side off as witless or faithless degenerates. And so we have this paralyzing tug of war with no sign of compromise from either quarter. We need a big time out until both sides agree to come back and play nice with each other.

*

Obama is said to be on the hot seat right now because of those old bastards, the jews. Dems lost a safe seat in New York, the Weiner seat if you will, to a conservative Republican. Might resonate on a national level. Some jews evidently got sore when the Prez suggested that the Israeli's move back to pre 1967 borders, a geographical boundary that seems suicidal to many, including by the way, myself.

Now the Obama spin machine is going full tilt to illustrate what a great friend Obama has been to Israel, a country he has never visited and that he tends to treat like the embarrassing drunk uncle at the easter dinner. He did have the PLO over yesterday. Anyway there is a new "Obama jewish outreach" afoot and Debbie Wasserman Schultz even tried the old triangulation move, yesterday intimating that American jews have a lot of common with Obama and care about a lot more things than Israel. She said that "Obama was far better than Republicans on every issue that matters to this community." Which may be true, who knows? But sets american jews at interesting cross purposes with their Israeli brethren.

I think that the whole concept of massive jewish financial and political power will hardly stand up to scrutiny. And it is certainly not a monolithic block.  Jews comprise about 1.7 percent of the country's population or 5.2 million people, hardly a game changer. They tend to be highly educated, cause oriented and they do vote at a higher rate than their fellow americans. But certain other groups possess far more power in our society.

If an American jew says anything positive about Israel, he or she is quickly accused of dual loyalty and sedition. I was looking at a CNN article re: Obama and Israel and took some screen shots of some of the more interesting comments. I will spare you the ones that suggest "Burning the kikes in the ovens", if they have not already been deleted.

I am the son of a jewish man born in Palestine, before the establishment of Israel. I have lived there twice, once for a year and again throughout much of Desert Storm. I am not in lockstep with the present Israeli government, I disagree strongly with the way that they have handled the settler issue, but I can understand the logistics and motives of much of their thinking and the reality on the ground. I hope that people will look at the issues in a more meaningful and understanding way than some americans apparently do.

The reality is that I do think that Obama would screw Israel in a heartbeat. He has backtracked on so many other principles. They are a small country and it would be expedient and easier for him to cut them off, to the glee of many of my fellow citizens. I think that they will find a way to survive with or without his help. Or the whole middle east turns into a parking lot.

Jorma

Somewhere a band is playing.

I found this poem today in a Ray Bradbury book called Now and Forever. I sort of had to piece it together. Sorry, Ray.

Somewhere a band is playing.
Playing the strangest tunes.
Of sunflower seeds and sailors
Who tide with the strangest moons.
Somewhere a drummer simmers
And trembles with times forlorn,
Remembering days of summer
In futures yet unborn.


Futures so far they are ancient
And filled with Egyptian dust,
That smell of the tomb and the lilac,
and seed that is spent from lust,
And peach that is hung from a tree branch
Far out in the sky from one's reach.
There mummies as lovely as lobsters
Remember old futures and teach.


And children sit by on the stone floor
And draw out their lives in the sands.
Remembering deaths that won't happen
In futures unseen in far lands.
Somewhere a band is playing
Where the moon never sets in the sky
And nobody sleeps in the summer
And nobody puts down to die;
And Time then just goes on forever
And hearts then continue to beat
To the sound of the old moon drum-drumming
And the glide of Eternity's feet.


Somewhere the old people wander
And linger themselves into noon
And sleep in the wheat fields yonder
To rise as fresh children with moon.
Somewhere the children, old, maunder
And know what is to be dead
And turn in their weeping to ponder
Oblivious filed 'neath their bed
And sit at the long dining table
Where life makes a banquet of flesh
Where dis-able makes itself able
And spoiled puts on new masks of fresh.
Somewhere a band is playing
Oh listen, oh listen, that tune!
If you learn it you'll dance on forever
In June...
And yet June...
And more...June...
And death will be dumb and not clever
And death will be silent forever
In June and June and more June.
© Ray Bradbury

Hold on it's coming

Repeal our unfunded health mandate? GOP says no way.

When dems don't fund their mandates they are evil socialists, of course the inverse is never true.
From the politics as usual department - Ricardo Alfonso Zaldivar for A.P.:

It's a massive health care entitlement with unfunded future costs over $7 trillion. Many conservatives are still upset at the way it was rammed through Congress. But when the Republican presidential candidates were asked last week asked if they would repeal the Medicare drug benefit, they said no way. After all, Republicans created it. Republicans want to pull the plug on the health care overhaul they call "Obamacare," but the Affordable Care Act is arguably less a deficit driver than the Medicare drug plan they are defending.


Debt and deficit are the focus of the Republican Party as the 2012 presidential campaign moves through the nominating process and looks ahead to the general election. Yet the reluctance of GOP candidates to renounce a costly entitlement program that voters like shows how politics can come into play when critiquing the federal ledger. Passed by a GOP-led Congress in 2003 under President George W. Bush, the prescription program is immensely popular with older people, faithful voters who lately have been trending Republican.


Medicare recipients pay only one-fourth of the cost of the drug benefit. Because there's no dedicated tax to support the program, the other three-fourths comes from the government's general fund. That's the same leaky pot used for defense, law enforcement, education and other priorities. It's regularly refilled with borrowed dollars that balloon the deficit.


Although the health care law costs far more than the drug benefit, it's paid for, at least on paper. It includes unpopular Medicare cuts as well as tax increases on insurers, drug and medical device companies, upper-income people, and even indoor tanning devotees. Asked last week at the Tea Party debate if they would repeal the prescription program, GOP candidates would hear nothing of it. Texas Gov. Rick Perry said he would not, even though he said he's concerned about its cost. Cracking down on waste and fraud might be the answer, he suggested.


"I wouldn't repeal it," said former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney. He said he would restructure Medicare, but not for those now in the program or nearing retirement. The re-engineering supported by House Republicans this year and praised by Romney at the time would give future retirees a voucher-like payment to buy insurance from a range of private plans. Texas Rep. Ron Paul noted that he'd voted against the prescription benefit, but said repeal "sure wouldn't be on my high list. I would find a lot of cuts (in) a lot of other places."
Budget hawks scoff. 


"I'm an equal opportunity critic here," said David Walker, a former head of the congressional watchdog agency. "I think the Republicans were irresponsible for passing the Medicare prescription program in 2003 and I think the Democrats were irresponsible for passing" Obama's health overhaul. As comptroller general of the Government Accountability Office for most of the past decade, Walker used his position to call attention to the nation's long-term budget problems at a time when the debt wasn't front-page news. He now leads the Comeback America Initiative, a nonpartisan group promoting fiscal responsibility.


"There was no attempt to offset the cost of the Medicare prescription bill," Walker said. "It's fair to say that at least there was an attempt to pay" for the health law through a mix of spending cuts and tax increases. How big is the hole left by the prescription program? Over the next 75 years, its $7.5 trillion "unfunded obligation" exceeds the $6.7 trillion gap attributable to Social Security.


"When they were designing the new health care law, the experience of the Medicare prescription bill was very much in their minds," said Robert Bixby, executive director of the Concord Coalition, a nonpartisan group advocating fiscal discipline. "They didn't want to have another unfunded expansion."


Experts can debate whether future Congresses will suspend Obama's Medicare cuts and whether the long-range cost of extending coverage to more than 30 million uninsured will outpace the revenue to pay for it. As the reactions of the GOP candidates at the debate demonstrated, no one is seriously considering repeal of the prescription program. Thanks to taxpayers, about 90 percent of older people now have affordable access to medications that help keep them out of the hospital. Roughly two-thirds of those are enrolled in Medicare's benefit; many others are in former employers' prescription plans.


Ironically, repealing Obama's overhaul would take away the most important improvement to the program since it was created. Obama's law gradually eliminates the dreaded coverage gap known as the doughnut hole. Millions of people will each save thousands of dollars as a result. Republicans like to point out that the cost of the prescription program is well below original estimates. They attribute that to competition among the private insurers providing the benefit.


While competition is part of the story, experts say it's not the only reason. The shift to cheaper generic drugs among people of all ages has been a powerful contributor. That may not last forever. The trustees who oversee Medicare's finances warn in their latest report that spending on drugs will rise more rapidly in the future. Said Walker: "Basically what's happening is we're mortgaging the future of our children and grandchildren, and borrowing the money from China."

Hickory Wind

If I don't get some shelter.

I have to go pay a bill and I don't want to get up. It is so much more fun to while away my time on the internet.

*
Brett loaned me the Keith Richards book. Leslie read it first, I was reading Medium Raw, Anthony Bourdaine's book which was better and a touch less self absorbed than his first book, Kitchen Confidential. As a deadhead I was quite turned off by the gauche Bourdaine when he said that listening to the dead in his kitchen was immediate grounds for dismissal.

In this book he talks about being tripped out at Hot Tuna concerts and redeems himself, at least somewhat partially.

Anyway back to Keef, I have to confess that I could not finish the thing, or even start it properly, for that matter. Everything was about the bitches, or that prick Mick, or sticking a needle in your arm. It nauseated me frankly, the dopey stupidity, the misogyny, the petty smallness of this rock god.

I did like a few things. He unveils the secret of his playing - open G and leave off the top string, a secret he says he was forced to reveal, at near gunpoint, by Ike Turner. An interesting breakdown of Charlie Watts snare to hi-hat relationship, the added half beat creating the signature Stones texture. Neat stories about Graham Parsons, a very condescending tone regarding Brian Jones. He speaks fondly of a New Barbarians tour that was the worst music I have ever heard.

I also learned that if you are in a knife fight, it is always best to cut your opponent across the forehead initially, the sheet of blood causing little harm but will temporarily blind him and put an end to the swordplay.

Keef 

***

I found out last month that my father was down to three words, which he repeats endlessly in the home. Old man, old man, old man, old man, repeated mnemonically over and over like the rain man. And one other word. His wife asked me,"What does schnaim mean? This was easy, hebrew was his first language. It means time. It's time. I need to go see him and be with him. Even if it turns out to be a one way interchange.

***

Many of my friends and family are going through major changes right now, physically, emotionally, medically, financially. A few of you are under enormous burdens. (You hypochondriacs and drama queens forget it, I'm not talking about you. The people I am talking to, know I am talking to them.) I wish you the strength to endure and hope that you will share your burdens with us and those family members that love you, on a scale that everyone can handle and that things get righted soon. Things rarely stay crappy forever.

***

Something to ponder. I was recalling a passage yesterday from the book Tortoise mind that I wrote about a few months ago. They gave you a number sequence - 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, 17___ ... and ask you to fill in the next number. I guessed 19, which is completely in the box, and wrong in this particular instance, I might add, the actual number set in question only having the attribute and parameters of being an ever ascending number. The number I believe he was looking for was 18 or 22 or seventeen to the eleventh power. Coincidences do happen and you can't always assume.

Stephen Wiltshire: The Human Camera

Monday Rapidfire

Great article - Scientific American - Post office kicks FedEx and UPS ass!
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New York State slaps a GPS on worker's private car, spies on him for a month without a warrant.
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Red head  jizz no longer accepted at sperm bank.
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Floyd Mayweather is a cheap shot  punk and I hope that Manny Pacquiao one day punches his face in.
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Obese man sues White Castle because he is too fat to fit in their seats.
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A man goes to the doctor. The doctor says,"You are going to have to stop masturbating." The man asks, "How come?" Doctor says," So that I can finish the examination."
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Hospitalization for dirt eating disorder nearly doubles in last decade.
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Sheriff Joe on Obama's trail.
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Let's cut taxes for the wealthy and raise them for everybody else...
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Yossi Klein Halevi on the blame Israel game - New Republic.
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German "Pirate Party" sees gains - first online political group? - Spiegel.
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United States kisses Red China bootie, shtupps Taiwan in fighter jet deal.
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American Specialty Agriculture act screws U.S. workers too! - SPLC.
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Skeptoid on Fracking.
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Obama White House punts on open government - Secrecy News.
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U.K. scientists battle creationism - Science
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States free to disagree on stupid war on drugs - Reason.
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Wikileaks exposes cuba's ladies in white - Pravda

Mose Allison Quintet 1962 ~ Stop This World

Thanks, Smokey!

Cafe Primo

I would like to give you my two bits about my coffee group. I have been drinking coffee with a core group of friends, practically every morning for the last twenty years or so. We have been together so long that we are now on our fourth or fifth coffee shop, we latch on to a klatch and they go out of business like an espresso machine on its last grounds.

My group has stayed pretty consistent over the years although we have lost a few souls over time. We lose a few and we gain a few, and there is sort of an unspoken initiation rite that weeds out the chaff and the weaklings and keeps the thing on the up and up. We started at Charlies, and then went to Fallbrook Cafe, then Clementines and Chubby Chix and have had a table at Cafe Primo for the past five years or so. Might be one or two that I have forgotten. Woe to those that get there early and sit at our table, those not respecting our early morning authority sure to get a stink eye or two.

The original core group was Bruce the locksmith, Bob the retired plumber turned expert witness, Frank the cop (now deceased), Russ (stopped coming out to play when Frank kicked), Ron the dentist, Mike and me. WildBill figured the thing out really quick and fit right in. He is usually the first to arrive and has the duty of securing our table. Pete sells Nomads, car parts and surfboards. Tony Z occasionally makes the scene. A few others. Mike is the oldest member, but his kids took the keys away and he's a bit oversensitive, he got miffed and left the group about a year ago after somebody pissed him off. I suggested that Little Tony C. sit on a telephone book in his Escalade for a better view and he decided to seek greener pastures. Like caribou trying to survive a cold winter, you just have to step over the fallen comrade and keep moving.

The group is non denominational and probably evenly split politically. We don't talk a lot of politics but everyone is free to say their piece if they want to and nobody ever gets shut down. Some guys got bucks, some of us are poor, we don't know and we don't care. We all have a routine. Bob brings the Los Angeles Times and gives it to me when he is finished reading about his precious Anaheim Angels and I get to bring it home.

The tables sort of radiate out from ours and take their proscribed place in the natural scheme of things. The next table has about 10 to 15 years on us, retired firemen, military men and assorted good guys. The outside chairs are for the hardcore smokers, Brett and Fred, Bobbie, Denise, Krash and a few assorted schizophrenics, although they are usually there later in the day and it depends on who the cops have picked up. There is a guy named drummer boy who is always tapping drumsticks, Frank who talks to invisible demons and Lisa, and I just don't want to know what makes her tick.

We have an ex preacher in the room who drives a maserati and writes books, a woman's weekly book club and just a whole host of characters. A woman with a brain injury, an ex writer, who occasionally busses our table for us. By nine the moms and bible studiers show up and I make myself scarce. Everybody at Primo knows where they sit and knows where they stand. Warren comes by in the afternoon and holds court on the late shift and Lance has been suspiciously hanging around for far too long lately and also likes to bum my newspaper.

There is a real bonding when you drink coffee with a bunch of regular guys after twenty years. As far as I know, nobody at the table drinks any of the sissy drinks, all straight coffee drinkers. The coffee is fair there, we come for the lies, tall tales and companionship. I believe that the bakery goods come out of a package from Costco.

Stories get old but we are cordial enough to bob our heads and pretend that it is the first time again. Or maybe say 57 or number 63 when we sense an old joke or routine, like the old bowery boys did. Mike went on and on about the parking lot for the better of 18 years and we still get stories of Bob's thrilling exploits as a commercial plumber or we will occasionally ply for information on Doc's latest root canal.

Bob has bees in the owl box that he put up that the owl decided to never live in or visit. This morning we told him how to burn burlap in a smoker so that he could remove the queen. Bruce said that they sometimes got two queens. I said that was a problem because two queens would probably want to redecorate. Bill said "Or eventually adopt a black child."

The repartee goes back and forth, but with a nice slow rhythm, we have spent so mornings together that the whole group is sort of like an old married couple. And we have spent almost as much time together as an old married couple.

Maybe stop by one day for a cup.

Partisan Rant #328 or payback's a bitch.

I have been thinking about the sad state of affairs that we find ourselves in here in America and I would like to make a few comments about the Obama presidency. Whether it lasts another year or five more years, I have a sneaking suspicion that we lay dead in our tracks and that nothing can be achieved.

Why, do you ask? Because it is evident that Republicans hate this president more than they love their country. They have done nothing since his election except thwart and obstruct him on every issue and position. I have never seen a more partisan GOP. From the Issa hearings to the Solyndra investigation (a program first vetted by Bush) the clear aim of the Republicans has been to effect maximum pain on our leader at every turn. Even if America goes down the toilet, what most matters to the GOP is returning to power.

They paint him as a marxist over a health care plan that has been the aim of every democratic and progressive agenda for the last 20 years.  He is a closet muslim, a revolutionary, a disciple of Reverend Wright and Bill Ayres, he is responsible for  everything short of performing Black Masses in the Lincoln Bedroom.

The Republicans have been remarkably successful at holding the line of their complete obstruction. So, what have we learned? That if one side has its oars in the water and the other side decides not to paddle we will surely sink. The problem is that this type of spoiled and petulant behavior works both ways. If the Repubs do return the power, can they not expect the same type of resistance and behavior from the democrats? And what does this type of tit for tat behavior mean for the future of our country?

A divided population and a divided electorate means that there is no mandate. If we don't work together, nothing will get done. That means both sides will have to ultimately compromise or we will forever remain in a morass. Let the man elected to lead, lead for once and see if the sky falls in. But a republican party would rather talk about getting rid of social security and medicare and the EPA and letting people without insurance simply die.

You left this President with the nastiest and worse hand possible. You said that the markets would police themselves and the predators like Morgan and Goldman ran wild peddling their worthless paper. But it's Obama's fault because he tried to stimulate the economy you trashed and couldn't clean up your mess. Bush spent like a drunken sailor and Obama has to pay the ticket.

I would hope that Democrats have a long memory of the current brand of GOP intransigence. It will be nice to tell them where to stick it some day and give them the same back of the hand they have shown our president. But Dems are built a bit different and will probably take the fall, with the realization that making things work is more important than bringing down a presidency and exacting punishment and retribution. It is a pity that the radical ideologues on the right don't share the same sense of responsibility.

Johnny Winter - Stray Cat Blues

The naked truth

I guess one of my obsessions is with the round number thing. When I am pumping gas I tend to stop on an even dollar, say thirty five bucks on the nose. My wife takes an opposite tack, she always ends on a number like, say $32.32. She says that it makes it easier for her to check her statement and make sure nobody is monkeying with her credit card. I wonder if my strange o.c.d. with my habit of reaching for a "centiunit" or multiple of 100 is my own little quirk or is one that is shared by you folks or the greater world at large?

The reason I am broaching the subject is that this is my 503rd blog post of the year. Now a look back at the last three years shows that I have written 600 posts the first year, then 625 and finally, 650 of my little gems last year. My pattern or orderly obsession is crying out for if not 700, at least the equally permissible 675 posts for the year 2011. It will take 172 more submissions to hit the storied literary bullseye on the latter figure. If my math is correct, there are 106 days left in the year or an output of about 1.6 posts a day to reach the less lofty goal. Definitely doable but will take a little work.

Now in a normal year I would think that I could hit a watermark like this with my eyes closed and my fingers crossed. Give me a head of steam and a slight tailwind and I can shpiel with the best of them. Unfortunately, this is not a normal year. I have repeatedly hit a writer's block this year, being either disinterested in continually feeding this bloggy beast or frankly sick of my own voice.

Now I managed to suck it up and hit the hundred blog post in July and I hope that you were suitably impressed. The shame of sticking on 98 or 99 propelled me to even greater heights. But due to apathy and travel, August was my cumulative nadir for the year and September is trudging along awfully slowly as well.

So don't be surprised to see a little backsliding this year, I may end on 577 or some other odd figure equally random and un noteworthy. Or else I  rely on hopeful inspiration or hitting you with lots of music. I guess that we will see.

I saw the figure 5 in gold - Charles DeMuth (1883-1935) c. 1928
Oil on Cardboard

Move it on Over

Pinnell Gallery Show

A few people asked me to post the winning entrants that I chose for the Pinnell Gallery small painting show that I judged last week. There was a lot of very nice work and it was hard to make a decision but these paintings are the ones that ultimately made the grade.

The first painting is by William Gullette and took the blue ribbon at the exhibition. It is titled "Out at the point." It did not photograph optimally but is striking in person and notable for its strong and confident brushwork. I really like this talented artist's loose yet descriptive approach.

 My second place winner was "The Dancer" by Carlsbad's Rita Pacheco. All three of her submissions were outstanding and it was hard to make a decision but I felt that this painting was the strongest compositionally. Rita has an excellent sensitivity for values and shows nice brushwork here.

The third place award went to Chick Curtis, an outstanding artist who is what I would call a modern day tonalist. Chick's work always knocks me out. This painting is called "Mooo-ve over."

These are my three honorable mentions, Janie Kent's "Dreamy Afternoon," Brian Bateman's "Spitfire Dawn" and Vicki Gammell's pastel "Waiting to ripen." All three wonderful and competent works.

I had a wonderful time judging and hope that I get a chance to do it again. I would like to thank Rich Stergulz for giving me the opportunity.

How To Play Baseball

Now there's three things you can do in a baseball game: You can win or you can lose or it can rain.
Casey Stengel

Take the Padres, please!

The San Diego Padres have to be the most pitiful team in baseball. The new owner, Jeff Moorad, has taken a team that won 90 games last year, in fact one game from winning the division championship and successfully reversed course, with a current record of 63-87.  Only the Houston Astros have a worse record but they sucked last year as well so we will keep them out of this conversation. The Padres have lost eight of their last ten games and seventeen of their last twenty.

How did Moorad perform this Houdini like trick? He fired a very resourceful General Manager, gunslinger Kevin Towers, a man who has catapulted the lowly Arizona Diamondbacks to the top of the standings, replacing him with a young and wet behind the ears yes man, Jed Hoyer. Jed serves as the beleaguered good cop in the Padres drama this year. He gave up our star player, Adrian Gonzalez, currently hitting .340 for the Red Sox for a bag of poop including the weak hitting pheenom Anthony Rizzo and his .143 batting average. They jettisoned all the gritty, hustling players that worked their ass off last year like Scotty Hairston and loaded up on do-nothing Ryan Ludwick types who couldn't hit in the over spacious park.

They have exactly one hitter over .300, Jesus Guzman, a first baseman with no range at a position that is already crowded. The rest of the active roster is strictly Mendoza. They have the second worse team average in baseball, hitting a collective .238. So much for building the sparkling new stadium.

Hoyer and Moorad have woefully cried out about the state of the Padres minor league system but it is all malarkey. When they have a good farm raised product, e.g. Peavy, Gonzalez or Adams, he gets jettisoned anyway. Closer and fan favorite Heath Bell was recently ignominiously put on waivers. Thanks a lot, Heath, let us kick you in the ass on the way out the door, just like Trevor.

The reality is that the Padres are one of the most profitable teams in baseball, according to Forbes Magazine and that Moorad is another Tom Werner carpetbagger getting rich off of the hapless hopes and dreams of the San Diego Padres fan. Moorad is the same skinflint who cut hometown hero Randy Johnson in Phoenix, even after he offered to take a 50% pay cut.

The Padres had the lowest payroll in baseball last year, at 32 million. They were the 19th most valuable team, valued at over 406 million dollars. They had a reputed revenue of 159 million dollars. Sounds like fat city to me. Moorad has recently served notice that nothing will change, don't look for him to spend any gelt next year either.

The Padres are under the perception that fans don't really care all that much about winning and losing, preferring to savor "the Padres Experience." Give me a break. I feel like a sucker for even casually tuning in to this team of minor league scrubs. If you can't play with the big boys, sell the team to someone who can, skinflint. Petco was built under the perception that San Diego would be fielding a major league team.

If you don't know who Moorad is, he is the ex sports agent partner of Leigh Steinberg, the wunderkind who eventually went on a long binge off the deep end. Moorad has a 12%  piece of the Diamondbacks, which was apparently sufficient until he got his own team to ruin. The owner of the Diamondbacks, Ken Kendrick is apparently not real happy with the whole situation but at least now Moorad can cheer for a winner. The rest of the Padres ownership group, at least as reported in Wikipedia, is former Dallas Cowboys QB Troy Aikman, Rancho Santa Fe businessman Wayne Seltzer, entrepreneur John McAvoy, local home builder Al Baldwin, Phoenix, AZ businessman/real estate developer Jay D.. Stein, NoCal money manager Rick Berry, CEO of Save Mart Supermarkets Bob Piccinini, cell-phone honcho John McEvoy, and Panda Restaurant CEO Tom Davin. A Texas guy, an Arizona guy, a Nocal guy, one dude from Rancho Santa Fe. Maybe a summer home...

I don't go back to Lane Field, but I am a Padres fan all the way back to Westgate Park when they were a Dodgers farm club. I don't know why we always get these lousy, sharpie, big belt buckle, little dick owners. The last guy with any integrity and a pot to piss in was Ray Kroc.

If you fall for this team's brand of b.s. you will eventually get what you deserve. Nothing.

Bettye LaVette