So kind!
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parts
Tuesday, September 13, 2022
Thank you
Lying Lindsey
“All of us in the conservative world have believed that there’s nothing in the Constitution giving the federal government the right to regulate abortion.” Sen. Lindsey Graham - June, 2022
Does the federal government have the right or doesn't it, Lindsey? Make up your mind.
Graham is the most shameless liar. Today he proposed a national "late term" abortion ban after 15 weeks of pregnancy. This is also semantical gamesmanship as this is a term normally reserved for abortions later than the second trimester, or far past 20 weeks of a forty week pregnancy. If his ban were enacted it would strip progressive states' laws that allow abortions during this period. So much for state's rights.
“15 weeks is not ‘late term,’ particularly given the significant challenges to access around the country,” Christina Reynolds, vice president of communications at Emily’s List, wrote in a tweet.
While most people undergo abortions earlier in pregnancy, 15-week and 20-week abortion bans disproportionately affect patients with fetal anomalies, which are often detected at a 20-week anatomy scan, along with those who take longer to realize they are pregnant. These kinds of bans will also affect more people in a post-Roe America as abortion clinics struggle to accommodate a swell of patients from states where abortion is now banned.
Who once told Jeffrey Goldberg in an Atlantic interview "If an opening comes in the last year of President Trump's term, and the primary process has started, we'll wait till the next election."
And then promptly and conveniently decided that the rules had somehow changed when the political wind shifted.
I wouldn't vote for this prevaricating scum for dogcatcher.
No wonder people can't stand politicians. You can't believe a word that comes out of their mouths. Miss Lindsey thinks that this will blunt the national anger over the Dobbs decision. I honestly believe that it will have the opposite effect and merely showcase his parties lack of ethics and credibility regarding this issue. One party believes in personal choice and it is not the GOP.
Forked tongue asslicker.
Monday, September 12, 2022
Nine eleven is for the birds
I haven't been shooting birds in months and was anxious to get back to my nature reserve and see what was up. I knew that it would be dry there but there is really never a bad day, always something to find and explore.
I got up at 5:30 and drove up to Costco to gas up when they opened at 6:30. No lines. The full moon shined in the early sky.
I saw several falcons in the darkness.
It was dark but with my fast 400mm ƒ2.8 I was still able to get usable shots.
The roads were good, after our little rain, I think they want to take special care of the bird hunters out there, Birders not so much.
In fact there is a big push pull over the entire SJWA preserve, with warehouse developers angling for land and hunters and birders at possible cross purposes.
Beth sent me this video which explains the underlying dynamics.
The thought of losing this resource is very scary to me. We will see what ultimately transpires.
There were a lot of people out there, at least five cars. I prefer to go on a weekday but still managed to get my solitude and have a good time. Put the smaller lens on and took a hike, I had forgotten my strap and my tripod. Mosquitos were in full bloom after the rain.
Yesterday was an extraordinary day for ibis. I estimate I saw a thousand ibis in a single flock. I have never seen such a group in my life.
The place truly rejuvenates my soul.
It felt good to be out again and to be shooting pics again after the long layoff.
Saw a lot of different hawks, red tailed, harrier and red shouldered. Did not have a lot of luck capturing them for posterity.
The coolest bird I saw all day was this kite.
You can tell from the eye color that the bird is a juvenile, it has not turned red yet.
I will try again another day. Wonderful to be back out there, even though they are no longer filling the ponds like they used to. Hopefully the rain will come and the birds will once again thrive.
Kevin Boner has passed.
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He was a straight up guy. I saw the obit in the U.T. yesterday. Hard man to follow. Your thoughts?
Sunday, September 11, 2022
The Mexico Cafe
I had heard about the new Mexico Cafe in Temecula for several months. Reviews were good but somewhat mixed, as usual. I would have to decide for myself. The Cafe is part of a small family chain that opened in San Bernardino way back in 1951.
We went with our friends Bill and Jean last week for a midday Sunday brunch. And we were not disappointed, in fact we loved it!
This is not your normal Mexican restaurant!
I was particularly impressed with the chicken and spinach enchiladas with cream sauce. The link sausage may have been apple chicken, it was also scrumptious.
There are various stations in a couple different rooms, a crepe station, omelette, a bar to get posole, menudo and birria, dessert, fruit, enchiladas, so much delicious food.
The quality of the food is high.
No one leaves this place hungry, I had three plates and there was plenty still that I would have to wait to try.
Fresh tortillas, good coffee, brunch will set you back about $25.00 a head but it is totally worth it.
The restaurant is loud and festive, a flamenco guitar player strode from table to table. I really have no complaints except the fact that there were so many godawful tattoos, but that is Temecula and honestly, I have never seen so many women in their eighties with nose piercings and Ferdinand the bull nose rings or whatever you call them.
But far be it for me to be judgmental, I am not sure what the whole trend represents but I am confident that it is not my clan, whose numbers may be in the minority at this point. My nurse at Mercy for my biopsy said about 60% of her patients are now fully inked and adorned, obviously we "plain skins" will soon be as extinct as the dodo bird.
44500 Pechanga Pkwy Temecula, CA 92592
(951) 365-0808
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Thai Thai has sold in Fallbrook. There is a new cook. While it is still good, it is not quite as good and I hope they can get better soon. It was exceptional before. I won't give up on them but someone has to tell them to get it together.
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Restaurant week is approaching! Have a reservation already at my favorite, Pampelmousse. Yum!
Blue Heron Gallery turns 25 on September 17th.
I sent this letter out today...
It is hard to believe that the gallery has been open for this many years. Opened my doors, in the original shop located in the old narrow building by the Mission Theater, way back in September of 1997. It took a lot of sweat, luck and hard work to survive but we managed to, thanks to some incredible clients.
I am proud to have sold some wonderful and important works in that time, including paintings by John Singer Sargent, Maynard Dixon, Granville Redmond, Edgar Payne, Ed Ruscha, Wayne Thiebaud and Sir Joshua Reynolds. Seems like it was only yesterday. And we threw some dynamite parties in the gallery back in the day as well. Managed to buy the beautiful building, with the equally lovely cape chestnut tree located out front, sometime along the way. I am proud to have sold good works from every design period, from old masters to modern abstraction.
I have tried hard to both teach and to treat people fairly. I have been rewarded on every level, personally, emotionally and financially. Not always easy to survive but we are still here. I believe only Jamie and Kathie have been open longer downtown, along with perhaps the vacuum shop.
Love my job, even though I have been strictly by appointment for the last ten years. Not stopping anytime soon... Thanks to all of my friends and clients who have made my dream a reality and have been there for Leslie and I during the ride.
Love,
Robert Sommers
Blue Heron Gallery
113 N. Main Ave.
Fallbrook, CA 92028
760-731-9355
Saturday, September 10, 2022
Friday, September 9, 2022
Not Boss
I was listening to Meg Griffith discuss the price of $pringsteen tickets on the radio the other day. I guess that with the wonderful new "dynamic pricing" concept at Ticketmaster, some seats were running more than five thousand bucks a pop. More on the subject here. Springsteen's manager tried to deflect.
“In pricing tickets for this tour, we looked carefully at what our peers have been doing,” his manager, Jon Landau, said in a statement. “We chose prices that are lower than some and on par with others.
“Regardless of the commentary about a modest number of tickets costing $1,000 or more, our true average ticket price has been in the mid-$200 range,” he continued. “I believe that in today’s environment, that is a fair price to see someone universally regarded as among the very greatest artists of his generation.”
Bruce sounds like a great capitalist, god bless him. Greatest artists of his generation? Debatable. I find him to be a bit of a bore, honestly. Will listen to Southside Johnny if I absolutely need the Jersey thing.
Just heard that you can hear Bruce talk about his great career on a podcast with Jann Wenner too, that is if you are willing to fork over another sixty bucks for the privilege. Beautiful. Should really help his kids's college fund. Maybe Bruce is feeling a little tapped?
No thanks.
Some will rob you with a six gun, some will rob you with a pen and some will rob you with an acoustic Takamine, apparently. Hey, I guess he's not putting a gun to anybody's head.
I wouldn't dream of paying that kind of gelt for a concert ticket. I paid $400 for a Bowie ticket once and have been guilt ridden ever since. I don't know where people get the money and also don't know what they are thinking. How can you enjoy yourself enriching some millionaire musician and paying this sort of dough? Honestly, is there anybody out there worth paying this sort of money?
Leslie and I flew to New York to see the Cream reunion and didn't pay a quarter of that, airline and hotel included.
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$6.50 per ticket.
$5.00
Well, $5.25 if you add the tax.Throw in a tab of orange sunshine, whole thing would run you twenty bucks tops. And I guarantee there was a lot more shaking going on than you would ever experience at a Springsteen show.
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Now I don't want to sound like old rocking grandpa telling you to get off my lawn, but damn, the music was daresay better and music was still affordable in my day. By the way, a lot of shows cost far less than this. Tickets used to be three bucks.
We weren't paying off the Scottish salmon farms and French chalets for these precious rockers back then. Or expensive rehab in the Caribbean. Maybe they weren't quite so full of themselves, back then, these great artistes.
Of course there are a lot of things I won't pay for nowadays. Don't know how you people do it.
Legoland admission starts at $89.00 and it goes up from there. That is for young kids. Sea World - $99.99, although they will apparently discount. Single day San Diego Zoo ticket is now $65.00. Disneyland - starts at $104. And hey, when is it ever just one ticket?
Honest to god, I couldn't have a good time spending this kind of money trying to have fun, I would be guilt ridden at the very thought. I really don't know how you people do it. I think I would rather go hiking or read a book.
I guess baby, I wasn't really born to run. Wouldn't fork over five grand if Jesus was playing.
Thursday, September 8, 2022
Phoenix Rising
One of the questions I get asked from people is what kind of art is in my home? What do art dealers bring home? Truthfully, Leslie and I are not very passionate collectors. Most of the work in our house was painted or made by friends, although there are some exceptions.
I don't know how to describe our aesthetic, I guess colorful, hippie, tribal, with some art nouveau and ethnographic mixed in.
The artist's name is Lolli Hough and she lived in Harmony Grove and was a part of a wonderful group of friends at the time.
She was an amazing artisan, haven't heard from her in decades. She not only made brilliant stained glass, she learned to dye in Africa and did beautiful fabric creations.
Our clan was very psychedelic, other members made regular sojourns down to Monte Alban in Oaxaca for hongo sessions with the Zapotecs.
The parties we had in these years were very high and resonating. Beautiful, loving, group. Smart, well educated.
I guess I should have pulled the blinds so you could get a better look but I think you get the idea. Visually the window is very rich.
Been a part of my life's fabric for almost fifty years.
Still love it!
Get Back
This is the last photograph I took with my camera and good lens. May 27th, 2022 at 7:17 in the morning. The red tailed hawklet in the nest. Now it is nothing special but it does draw a line for me. Because I have not gone shooting in over three months, or even had a real weekday day off for that matter. That is a long stretch for a slacker like me.
With all the uncertainty on my horizon line, with the medical tsuris, I have basically lost myself in 24/7 work, with the exception of some down time in Chicago of course. Constant grind. It has honestly been good for me, I have got a lot accomplished and showed myself that I could still focus and prioritize when I had to.
I look forward to taking some time off soon and smelling the cactus. Reacquainting myself with my camera and getting out by myself in nature.
Rostrata sunrise
Look how parched the earth is, this is the worst time of the year for plants around here.
The aloes are sunbeaten and blanched, the oranges crying out for moisture.
We do water, what we can afford to water anyway, but it is hard for anything to look good in September, especially with this insufferable heat.
Won't even show you my picture.
If the hurricane stays on course we might see some rain tomorrow or Saturday but I am not counting on it.
After over four decades in the hood I know that seasons eventually change and we will all survive, the resilient garden will look beautiful once again in the spring.
In my neck of the woods, things have to endure. High desert tough or perish. That is our secret, magic superpower.
The plant in the foreground is my yucca rostrata, also known as a beaked yucca.
The species is native to Texas, Chihuahua and Coahuila. From the area around El Paso del norte, where I spent a lot of my own youth.
Do you notice the interesting geometric shape of its leaves, a circle bisected at an angle by a burst of fresh foliage?
I wondered what would happen? Would it get a double beak, as occasionally occurs, or would it revert back to the round, original shape?
Or would it mutate into something altogether different?
It appears that it is going to get round again. Eventually. It has taken over a year to get this far.
Is this tendency to revert back to the mean another function of apical dominance?
I am not sure, out of my pay grade. I do know that this is one of the loveliest of yuccas.
To endurance... lift a cup.
Wednesday, September 7, 2022
Mort's
I had to drive to Los Angeles yesterday to drop off a few paintings that I sold to a private museum and to show a small collection of paintings to prospective clients in the valley. Things went fairly seamlessly but I had some time between the two appointments and was starving.
I called my friend Alyssa and she said that I was only a few blocks from her house in Encino but that she was not home. I told her I was craving deli and she directed me to Mort's.
Mort's is on Reseda and Ventura in Tarzana. It is a small place but you could tell it was full of regulars. Very tribal. There is a nice bakery next door. Sort of reminded me of Blumer's but not in their league although honestly nothing is. Place has been around since 1968, owner was working the floor yesterday. It is the kind of place you become a regular real quick. A little dingy but the vibe is good.
The pastrami was amazing, the other meat, pretty good. The tongue had no texture, not what I am used to. I like it bumpy. Rye bread was good. I will probably be back. I hear the kreplach is pretty good.
18452 Clark St
Tarzana, CA 91356
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He replied,"Ashkenaz Deli was my favorite when I was in high school. They loved me there. Always offered free food if I would cut my hair but gave me massive sandwiches anyway."
Guess that is why we keep coming back. If only I could find a decent kaiser, crescent or salt stick these days. Been decades...
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“We’re calling it the modern delicatessen. It’s certainly not kosher — we have bacon on the menu. So it’s not like your traditional deli, which I’m not sure exists today in most places.” The Gold Finch space, which will be designed to be light and airy with stone and wood accents, will feature a glass facade, a floor-to-ceiling glass door, and outdoor patio.Borkum says she is excited about a concept — and menu — that evokes her own memories of growing up in London’s Jewish neighborhoods. She’s especially enthused about the banana fritters and halvah ice cream dessert that was inspired by her recollection of her grandmother making banana fritters.A menu item that is more in keeping with Sephardic cuisine, Borkum said, is a shakshuka, prepared with a poached egg in a green tomatillo sauce with spinach and za’atar. Among the offerings sure to whet the appetite of deli devotees are challah French toast, matzo ball soup, berbere spice fried artichoke with sumac aioli, and a chocolate babka bun with orange cream and streusel.
Hope I am wrong. I usually love her food but this one sounds a little weird to me. Food a bit too precious. But she honestly might have me with the bacon, or pink chicken as it was called in my family.
Cooling out
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| The Human Drama - Spain Rodriguez |
I have had quite a few brushes with mortality in my life.
When I was fifteen, having gone through three consecutive reoccurring years and bouts with chronic active non a, non b hepatitis, I actually started dying.
I was living with my mother in Oxnard and my doctor, Mark Friedenberg, said that I had three days to live at most.
He told me that I had the liver damage of an eighty year old alcoholic.
My feet started itching (did you know that was a symptom of necrosis?) my pancreas emptied out and I was throwing up bile. This is what happens to your body when you die. I was a goner.
Fortunately for me, the worst prognostications did not come through, I was succored back to life by the constant and loving intervention of my mother, who honestly saved my life that week.
Cancer entered the equation with about ten surgeries including a kidney removal starting in 1985.
In 2007 we heard similar dire news after complications from open heart surgery. "Go home and say goodbye to the people you love."
I had an infection around my heart muscle that would not culture and the infectious disease doctor told Leslie and I that I would not make it two more weeks.
Thankfully, he was mistaken. I survived. But I was plainly shook and did as he told me, figuring all my chips were about to cash. It is a sobering experience saying goodby.
Three years ago we heard the same thing from the Iraqi urologist at Scripps. "Stage 4 invasive tumors in your liver and remaining kidney, ditto your bladder wall, nothing you can do, Sayonara." He stepped back into his shiny McLaren and zoomed off into the sunset. Fortunately, I found a better doctor and refused to give up hope. Here I am.
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Forgetting the medical stuff, I have had several other experiences in my life that brought me close to the end. I have been at the wrong end of a katyusha rocket attack, actually burnt my hand on the shrapnel after it came through the wall of my small home on the Israel/ Lebanon border.
And I have been through more Scud missile attacks than 99.99999% of the human population in the Desert Storm conflict. I wrote about the experience in a book that I started thirty years ago and have yet to finish. Maybe someday.
But forgetting the medical and the war stuff, the closest I have ever come to cashing it in, were two experiences in boarding school in 1971 in Idyllwild, I believe that I have written about them before. The first was a class hike gone wrong that turned into a thirty hour trek down a mountain and through the desert to Indio with no water in grueling summer heat. From the dolomite mines in Pinyon Flats.
I was having biblical hallucinations the moonless night about sojourning the valley of the shadow of death, somewhat akin to Jeremiah. A classmate, Ann, Joe Beauchamp, my biology teacher, and I finally made it into a farmer's orange grove at 4:30 in the morning and helicopters were sent in to rescue the others, now facing hypothermia and all sorts of other issues. None of us thought we would survive and the moment to moment minutiae of the experience is still vivid. It was sheer terror. Sliding down impossibly steep grades and grabbing thorny cactus to break our fall. Imagine...
When I think of the closest I have ever come it was that night and one other, being caught in a torrential Tahquitz storm with lightning falling trees within yards of me up in Skunk Cabbage on San Jacinto. Managed to make it out but not without hours of sliding down slickened trails and just making it out in one piece. I tried to impart to people what I had just gone through and I saw their eyes cloud over, there is no way to convey the sheer terror of almost buying the farm.
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I was talking to a friend at coffee who was caught in a nasty storm and haboob with his family in Lake Havasu this weekend. Suffered significant damage to the boat, you could tell that it was a terrifying experience.
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My point in dredging all this up is that you can tell people what you have undergone in experiences like I had or my friend had but you can never convey the dread, they never get just how emotionally wrenching it is or how scary it is. You have to be there, facing it yourself in order to get a sense of the existential fear, it can not be shared.
The totality of your exit or near exit story can never be fully understood.
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| The call of death, 1937 - Kathe Kollwitz (1867-1945) |
I just went through another wringer with the latest biopsy. My worst fears were not realized, turns out this tumor is manageable. But it did sap me for all my energy. I am pretty wasted right now, you expect the worse or prepare for it anyway or at least I do. Because I have had more practice at this sort of thing than most. Plan for the worst outcome and then get hopefully surprised beats you got nothing to worry about, god is going to take care of it and then suddenly you are worm food on the wrong side of the dirt.
So I am coming down right now, not big on sharing, don't have a lot to say, sort of traumatized actually. The everyday seems sort of banal and vapid. Mundane. Too much nervous adrenaline still in my system. It is going to take a few weeks after this one, never really gets easier, perhaps you will understand what I am talking about one day, if you don't already.
Surreal simian
A raincoat wearing chimp on a unicycle, juggling bananas with one hand and eating a tunafish sandwich with the other, all while reciting Proust, now that would have been something.
But this is still pretty cool.
Monday, September 5, 2022
Beware those lacking empathy and emotions...
Neuroscience News: People Who Lack Compassion for the Environment Are Also Less Emotional in General
Sunday, September 4, 2022
Flightline
This is a special horse, won the Pacific Classic by 19 & 1/4 lengths yesterday and was held up by Prat the last hundred yards.
His final time of 1:59.28 was only 17 one-hundredths of a second slower than the track record set by Candy Ride in the 2003 running of the mile and one-quarter contest. If the jockey hadn't turned back to look in his rear view mirror, the record would definitely have been broken. I have watched all his races and Flavien is yet to go to his whip. Horse has incredible heart and an obvious drive to win.
His average margin of victory in his five race undefeated streak is 12 & 1/2 lengths. Should be interesting to watch in the Breeders Cup. This horse, a four year old son of Tapit, just might be the Secretariat of this generation.
He is a descendant of equine royalty, tracing back to both Big Red and Man O' War.
Tapit is by Pulpit, who stood at Claiborne Farm. Pulpit is by A.P. Indy, the 1992 Horse of the Year and an outstanding sire. A.P. Indy is by Triple Crown winner Seattle Slew, and out of Weekend Surprise by Secretariat. Pulpit's female family traces back to one of Claiborne's foundation mares, Knight's Daughter, the dam of Round Table.
Tapit's dam is Tap Your Heels, a stakes-winning mare by Unbridled. Her dam, Ruby Slippers, also produced champion sprinter Rubiano, and is the third dam of champion Summer Bird. Tapit's third dam, Moon Glitter, was a stakes-winning full sister to important sire Relaunch. Tap Your Heels is inbred to In Reality, a descendant of Man o' War.
What a tremendous horse!
Saturday, September 3, 2022
Cactus
How about a hot summer hard rocker? I was listening to this the other day and thought that it was really an admirable effort. This is from Cactus debut album from 1969, the band being former members of the under rated Vanilla Fudge (bassist Tim Bogert and drummer Carmen Appice) as well as guitarists Rusty Day (Amboy Dukes) and singer Jim McCarty (Mitch Ryder.)
I think this thing smokes, almost jazzy in a way and shows off their considerable musicianship. Interesting that vocally the Parchman prisoner doesn't shoot his wife in this version, he merely pulls his knife...
True Collector
Millard received this letter regarding a painting he is selling this morning, I find it rather amusing:
Hello,Lovely painting.I'd love to buy it, but I'm 80 years old, suffer from Alzheimer's, suffer from orthostatic hypertension, live in an assisted living facility, and live on social security.I apologize for having to ask, but how much would you be willing to take?Thank you.Sincerely,D---- H------kP.s. being poor is nothing to be ashamed of, but it is damned inconvenient.
Friday, September 2, 2022
Live to play another day...
"A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays."
The doctor called moments after my second text; with good news.
All the cancer is low level and non invasive. What a relief! I was sweating because you really never know. I have been doing this twisted dance with cancer for about 38 years now but you never want to get too cocky and you never want to declare complete victory, especially with my history.
My doctor mentioned a new research drug on the horizon, a new study that might take care of the cancers in my bladder diverticuli in a more complete manner. Was I interested?
I told her that I was in.
Thanks for all of your good wishes and prayers. I feel both fortunate and grateful. Kid is back.
Thursday, September 1, 2022
Black Cherry nightmare
I used to stop at a certain convenience store on the way home and buy a cone a couple times a week.
Stuff is clean and delicious, I have written about it before. But I haven't eaten any in about a year. I was cured.
Why? Well, let me tell you why. I stopped eating the stuff when I looked behind the counter and saw the dirty bucket the ice cream scoop was in. Absolutely revolting. For some reason I had never glanced at it before.
It was fetid and disgusting, looked like sewer bilge. I had no idea when the last time it was cleaned but this was not the remains of the chocolate scoop, this was just gross dishwater.
Then and there I said, enough. I am finished. Haven't been back since.
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I was at the gas station the other day when I recognized a girl who once worked at the store. She remembered me too and I told her my story about the gross container. "That is nothing," she said. She told me that the manager let her dog drink out of the same container and never cleaned it. Whoa. Share a little ice cream with Fido.
If I get a hankering for it again, I will go to Rite Aid from now on, the convenience store is definitely out for ever.
Sidewalk companions
This is Taylor and her service dog Daisy. I had never met them before.
Taylor has a warm and wonderful smile.
What a nice pair!
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