Lowell Fulson - Gloria Jones

Sakineh Mohammadie Ashtiani and other news from the caliphate.

Article 102 - men will be buried up to their waists and women up to their breasts for the purpose of execution by stoning. The stones used should "not be large enough to kill the person by one or two strikes; nor should they be so small that they could not be defined as stones". 


The purpose of the stoning is to inflict pain in a process leading to slow death. Victims must not be killed instantly.


Sakineh Mohammadie Ashtiani is about to be stoned to death in Iran. This is despite the fact that she was acquitted on charges of murdering her husband and has already suffered a punishment of 99 lashes. The judge used his "judge's knowledge" loophole that allows for subjective judicial rulings where no conclusive evidence is present. This sealed Ashtiani's fate.


Never mind that she only speaks Turkish and that the trial was held in the Farsi language. Forget that the 42 year old mother of two has already been incarcerated for five years.

"they'll stone you just like they said they would..." Bobby D.

***


Human Rights Watch released a new report on forced female circumcision in Iraqi Kurdistan. Girls as young as three years old are forced to have their clitoris and other genitalia removed. The Association for Crisis Assistance and Development Cooperation (WADI) reports the incidence rate in February 2010: 72.7% of the 1,408 women interviewed across the region reported they had been subjected to genital cutting. In some districts, the average was more than 80%.


This is a common practice in Yemen, in Egypt and in communities throughout the middle east and africa. Women's sexuality is repressed and they are forever denied sexual pleasure.


**


Afshan Azad, one of the stars of the Harry Potter movies, has been threatened and reputedly attacked by her father and brother for having the temerity to date a Hindu man. Azad, who played Padma Patil in the popular movies, is a British Muslim of Bangladeshi origin.


A link to a report on honor killings in the Muslim world. According to Phyllis Chesler : In Europe 96 percent of honor killings in the last 20 years were Muslim-on-Muslim. The average age of European women who were honor-murdered was 21; 66 percent were honor-murdered by their family of origin; 44 percent were murdered by multiple perpetrators; 68 percent were gruesomely tortured. Nearly half of these women lived in England.


Another website dealing with the gruesome subject of honor killings, which are rife throughout the middle east, Palestine and India. Unfortunately, our islamic guests have imported this custom to the USA, Canada and all of their other gracious "host countries." Read this story about a poor turkish girl buried alive for talking to boys.


***


Norwegians are the targets of a new Al Qaeda attack plan.  Scandinavia has been most open and accepting in allowing immigration from the Islamic countries and their tolerance is now being repaid with terror. This scenario repeats itself in the United States, Denmark, France, England, Holland and pretty much anywhere else in the world.


**


CNN has fired longtime Mideast Editor Octavia Nasr after her sympathetic tweet following the death of Hezbollah cleric  Sayyed Mohammed Hussein Fadlallah a man designated by the U.S. Department of Treasury as a "specially designated terrorist, [who] disseminated numerous fatwa' supporting terrorist operations and was a vocal supporter of terrorism against Israeli targets." She later said that she saw him as a champion of women's rights and praised his non dogmatic approach.


***


There has been the normal gruesome run of bombings in Baghdad this week. Over 70 deaths in the last three days, mostly taking out Shiite pilgrims. The civil war is just waiting to happen, let's get the hell out and see where the chips fall. It's not worth risking American lives for these people who will never grow out of their hatred for each other.


**


The friendly folks in Iran are having a modesty and veils festival on July 12th, which will include a new catalogue of government approved hairstyles. The always popular Iranian pompadour is out as are ponytails, shaped eyebrows, mullets and spikes. 


The "Islamic" haircuts were unveiled at the Hijab and Chastity Festival, a fashion event designed to show how the country's youth can be stylish yet not run afoul of the fashion police. "Hair styles have been designed based on the shape of the neck, beard, the size of the chin and provincial cultures," said Jaleh Khodayar, the secretary of the festival.


Beards are no longer required. Presumably there will be fashionistas on hand supplying tips on getting that swarthy, oily, three day bearded suicide bomber look that everybody is striving for these days.


Iranian women are also feeling the heat of the fashion police. Police this summer, for the first time, are now equipped with cameras to film 'immodestly-attired' women, with the footage to be used as irrefutable evidence in court. This can include showing a bit of ankle or pushing your veil back too far.  There are also new rules instituted to ban the keeping of dogs, an unclean practice that tries to imitate the corrupt western world. Although you can still eat them in many of these countries.

You would not believe how many hits the Blast gets from the sexually repressed muslim world looking for porn. Well, the muslim world and South Carolina.


***


The Muslim world is also not real keen on gays. Here is a fatwa/statement released regarding the gay Islamic group Al Fatiha - 


"The very existence of Al-Fatiha is illegitimate and the members of this organisation are apostates. Never will such an organisation be tolerated in Islam and never will the disease that it calls for be affiliated with a true Islamic society or individual. The Islamic ruling for such acts is death. It is a duty of the Muslims to prevent such evil conceptions being voiced in the public or private arena."


**


I am tempted to blame the zionists for all of this perfidy and intolerance in the arab world, the widespread killing of innocents, but my innate cynicism gives me suspicion that the islamic creed itself bears at least a scintilla of responsibility in the matter. Although I am assured that Islam is a religion of peace. I read recently that British women are converting to Islam in record numbers, in fact conversion is skyrocketing all over the world. Lets hope that our islamic friends can decide on a sect to run the show before the global caliphate is installed. It will be much less messy that way.

It's only make believe.

Can you name me a contemporary singer who packs this kind of power and conviction in his song? A very underrated voice and performer, the late Conway Twitty. Slight dollop of cheese. Totally unhip and thrown by the wayside by the younger generation, this country crooner definitely paid his dues. Watch him tear it up.

Stan's Book

New York Stan has a new book out. Congratulations Stan, to a wonderful guy with a keen eye. Check out this link on Blurb. Blurb is a self publishing platform that I was not familiar with and my first cursory look seems promising. I wonder what kind of control a photographer has with his imagery? My Apple calendars have been disastrous on certain shots, and you have no editorial control of how things will actually print. If Stan's looks good (and I just ordered it) I may go this route myself. Onward into the new millennia.

The book is called Subway Stories. Stan Schnier rode the New York rails for four years with a vintage Widelux panoramic camera. This book sheds light on that journey. A voyage to the far off lands of the IND and the BMT. Check it out in preview mode.

Tonight the bottle let me down.

Valentino

One of the great treats of our vacation was eating at the wonderful Valentino. This was our third or fourth time at Pierre Selvaggio's fantastic restaurant and it is always a delight.

We walked through the Venetian Hotel, sister hotel to the Palazzo, where we spent the holiday and arrived at Valentino. You have a choice between eating at the less expensive Grill at Valentino or the namesake  restaurant, that has alternate locations in both Santa Monica and Houston.

I think that by now that you know that I am serious about food. I may not know how to cook it, or allow myself to be seduced by some of the avante garde culinary crazes, but I know what I like. When I tell you that we had one of the better meals of our life last night, please understand that it is not mere hyperbole.

We were seated in a pretty barren dining room and quickly met our outstanding server, Andy. Andy was a Detroiter with a very pleasant attitude and an apparent zest for both life and good wine. Quickly we were served cold water and three types of bread, a raisin nut, ciabotta and a crusty wheat with warm pats of butter.

My meal began with a caprese salad made with an aged basalmic vinegar, fine olive oil, beautiful buffalo mozzarella and heirloom tomatoes. A bit slim on the basil but the taste was terrific, the tomatoes exceptional. It was served with a hawaiian red sea salt, but not quite enough. They gladly brought us a whole dish of the salt for the night when we requested it.

Leslie ordered the wine paired Chef's Extravaganza. It started with the Crudo bar with fresh lobster with ossetra, scottish salmon, topped with micro greens.  That appetizer was served with a Louis de Sacy, Brut Rose champagne. As Leslie says, "Oh, those delicious tiny bubbles..."

I started on my first hearty dish, a wild boar ragout over garganelli pasta, a square pasta that is rolled into a tube. It was delicious and filling but half way through I had the scary thought that I was pretty much stuffed and my entree hadn't even arrived.

Leslie got a piping hot ramekin of quail with fava beans and cannellini. This was a confit wrapped in bacon and was thick, rich and sublime. Leslie said that it melted in her mouth it was so succulent. We were doing some serious bite trading at this point.

I was drinking a Super Tuscan from Insoglio, Campo di Chingali. Thick and flavorful, a satisfying wine with a nice finish. Leslie was now paired with the Row 11 Pinot Noir which was light and delicious. Valentino has one of the greatest wine lists in America and they had two of our favorite Pinots on the list,  DuNah and Papapietro. There were bottles on the list for 28 thousand dollars, freaking insane but who asked me?

Leslie had her next course served, a mint pappardelle with heirloom tomato sauce. She said that it was really refreshing, a perfect summer pasta. This was served with a Dr. Loosen Mosel Riesling, Leslie's favorite wine of the night.

A few years ago, a couple we know asked for a Las Vegas recommendation and we offered Valentino. For some reason, they hated it. They didn't think it was nearly as good as the Santa Monica location. Now it is totally subjective and I may not have the most educated palette in the world but I still think they must have been there on a very rare bad night. In my way of thinking it rivals some of the great New York restaurants we have been lucky enough to visit and is head and shoulders above the Batali, Keller, Lutece, Emeril and other dining establishments we have tried at the Venetian. We loved it.

The food came in waves all night and my entree came rolling to the table like Hannibal marching through the Alps, a twelve ounce roasted veal chop with a truffle demiglaze and accompanying porcini mushroom and arugula salad. The shaved parmasan was cut so thin it was actually transparent. I had the chop cooked a little rarer than they recommended. I think I  prefer it grilled. I missed some of the caramelization I favor that you get from grilling. But it was still outstanding. At this point I was about to burst. I had forgotten that the last time we were there we got ridiculously stuffed on the tasting menu and this occasion was no different. Should have skipped the bread and not had two yang winter entrees. I ended up taking a good portion of the chop back to my hotel room for breakfast.

Leslie had started on her wagyu flatiron steak with spicy polenta, sauteed mustard greens and portobello mushrooms. The spicy polenta packed a flavor punch! Her steak was outstanding. She had a Mt. Veeder cab, which I thought was the worst wine of the night having a dull chalky midrange and no start and finish.

We finished the night with a hand selected cheese course of San Simon, a smoked cows milk cheese from Galicia, the Pecorino fresco, a sheep's milk from Tuscany and a Carciotta truffiata, another sheeps milk cheese from tuscany filled with truffles. Leslie quaffed two more wine selections, a Tenuta Guido Alberto and a Pal Sun, a strong port like essence from Valpolicella.

Dessert was a chocolate layered Bailey's cream cake with coffee gelato and spun sugar. Wow. The bill was not exactly cheap but now that we get one or two holidays a year together, you need to let it go once in a while and enjoy life. Leslie and Robert, going for the gusto together since 1991.

I made a pile at the tables at the end of the meal, not going to bed until 2, and then proceeded to give it all back this morning. But the great meal and the mind blowing performance of Cirque du Soleil's La Reve made the weekend a fantastic success. And I even managed to finish reading my book relaxing by the pool. Hope that you all had a nice holiday as well.

7.5.10

Independence Day saw the Sommers family pile into the family wagon, with a couple days provisions and apologies to the cat, and head for Las Vegas. Trip was relatively uneventful, a bit hot. The author started thinking about a new things I despise list:




Yellow cars (with apologies to Bill's Dino, which passes, but would look better in blue.)


Non dairy creamer.


Pee on toilet seats in public restrooms.


People who build their houses on picturesque mountain ridge lines, and ruin the views of everyone else with their big cut slopes, because they want to play king of the mountain.


People who talk loudly in libraries.


The cost of razor blades. 


18% added gratuities are not really gratuities, are they?


Seventies bands like Foreigner, Journey, Triumph, Ambrosia, etc.

We made it to the Palazzo around 5, waiting in the ridiculous check in line for about an hour. Of course, the hotel psy -ops placed a platinum line with no wait next to the peons check in, something my wife explained was designed to guilt you out for not being rich. A way for the hotel to thank the really big losers.

When we finally reached the suite, after a march across miles of tasteful chinese carpet to the furthest reaches from the elevator, we discovered the room had a picturesque view of the roof of the covered parking lot. If you lifted the potato chips off the electric mini bar for over 30 seconds, you would be charged a cool eight bucks.

We were both getting testy and the evening never recovered. We went to get my phone charger from the car and I realized that I have forgotten it, so I will be out of commish for a couple days. Also see that the back tail light assemblage on the van had been taken out by some nascar style valet. We had to go through the hotel security/risk management pony show and will need to find red tape tomorrow. We need more red tape. Dropped a few sheckels on the table that further depressed me. I was worried about coming into the equation playing scared, never a good proposition. Plus an absolute idiot sat down and started splitting twenties and doing really crazy shit, which all worked, upsetting the cosmic harmony of the board and leaving me depressed.


They dropped us off in front of Paris to see the fireworks, which were at Caesars' this year and the mobs of people on the street made ambulation impossible. Wheelchairs, mamas, babies, everyone was trapped in a horrible human bottleneck that took ages to extricate from. Blisteringly hot to boot.

We finally crawled back to the Venetian where we had an unremarkable dinner, after an interminable wait that we were giving one more minute. Today is another day.

***

My friend Shawn has been climbing mountains in Sumatra and sends this missive, a Sun Bear indeed! The claws that clatch...

Have 5 minutes at an internet cafe and back on the road! Flying out
tomorrow from Padang to KL, wanted to go to Genting highlands but anxious
to get home??? absolutely incredible trip with 1800+ pictures...so far. A
giant raffleasia is opening today outside Buggitingi so will race there to
see it in the morning and then straight to the airport. Pack is a disaster
area and no time to do laundry or sort it out. Should get to a hotel with
hot water by midnight and have to leave by 5:30 am...amazing adventures,
encounter with a sun bear while crossing a stream yesterday on the trail to
lake Tudjah, fortunately I was able to yell loud enough to scare it into
flight or we would have had a disaster on the trail. Managed to rig up a
trimaran out of three tiny canoes on lake Tudjah and avoid capsizing but
our climb to the top of the mountain meant that we didn't even return to
the boats until 30 minutes before dark so we were paddling until 9 pm as
the winds came up and had only 1-2" of freeboard in an ice cold, 2,000 foot
deep lake! More adventure travel! But other than our kamikaze bus driver on
terrible roads I wouldn't trade a bit. 

Okay, I'll hope to talk to you soon, if we survive the roads tonight!
Love,
Shawn

My life is actually quite pedestrian compared to my expat friend's. In other news on the fourth, Kobayashi is in the slam, horrible horse stomping in Iowa, many of the women in Vegas dress like total prostitute sluts and I think it's time we start looking for a new planet. Ciao!

Hellzone

I had seen him before, many times in fact, at the gym. When you work out at the crack of dawn, people tend to their own business at the gym. Usually a polite nod or at most some idle chatter about the previous night's ball game. Most of us preferred to be in our own private zones and stay focussed on our individual workouts and we generally kept interpersonal dialogue to a minimum. He was a guy who never said much, some interest in sports.

For the first several years at the gym, he was always accompanied by this quite lovely girl, I thought that she was his wife. Later I got word that they were finished, she had apparently married one of the trainers who used to be at the gym, a likeable guy I hadn't seen in years. She was beautiful in a regal way, like an aztec princess, with her royal bearing and rigid, aquiline beak.

Maybe that was what set him off, I don't know? The break up and all. It had probably been a year or two since I had last seen him. He was sitting in front of the new coffee shop, the one that specialized in the geriatrics and the hot rod guys in the morning, who gave way to the young moms and the bible studiers at precisely 8:45 with the pass of the baton. My coffee shop.

The seats outside serviced a different breed of cat, the smokers and more than a couple nut cases, and  a few people who simply had no other place to perch. Recently someone had put up a "no crazies sign."

He was just there one day, now with a hoodie and a shaved head, but the same strong physique I remembered honed through many years of diligent work at the gym. I remember him as a quiet guy actually. Now he was loud and obtuse and just a little bit off, pointedly trying to fit into private conversations held by me and my compatriots who warily viewed the newcomer with suspicion. Trying to hard and missing the mark. We basically ignored him and eventually his boat found its way to some other shore, I suppose.

Word got around that he was sick, crazy and acting in a bizarre fashion. The rumors were that he was maybe on meth or off some necessary psychotic medication. That he was now living with his mother, and behaving very strangely. I wonder now if the last time I saw him at coffee was one of his last lucid and rational moments.

He walked into my store the other day with a large crazed smile and stopped in front of a showcase of silver and native american items, baskets and pottery.

"I know that you stole all of this from my ancestors. I am a warrior. I could kill you with a hundred weapons in this store," he said robotically. I looked at him clinically and watched as his eyes sort of rolled back in their sockets, displaying large globes of white. He was clearly not operating on any human wavelength that I was familiar with. He started muttering some very paranoid and mostly unintelligible words. Like many paranoid schizophrenics, he seemed acutely aware of my own thoughts regarding him.

"F," I said gently, calling him by his given name and trying to make some real contact with the man that I once barely knew.

"My name is Z-D. Zed," he answered, slightly bitterly as he quickly propelled himself out the door, spinning into some hypersonic orbit in a galaxy I had no knowledge of. I called a police lieutenant I knew who sent a deputy over. He wasn't aware of this one but assured me that there were more schizophrenics around than I realized and that they frequently had to pick them up off the street. I wanted to see if this one was on their radar and he said not yet. He asked me to call if I noted any more threats or strange behavior.

Later I learned that he had been beaten up recently at the Irish Pub and thrown out of at least one other establishment in town. The last I saw him he was walking in front of the bank having a loud and animated conversation with an invisible enemy and swatting his hand madly at the bare sky with a tortured gesture. Internal demon or extraterrestrial foe, who knows?

I know that sanity can be a knife edge proposition for some and I think I realize how fast we can be reduced to its mirror image after significant trauma. There but for the grace of god... Still, the extent of this man's plunge was shocking to me. I hope that he can find his bearings again and once again return to our dimension. This poor fellow now stranded on a strange and hostile planet.

Catch a buzz

My brother Buzz called me from the hospital a few minutes ago. He sounds cogent and fairly normal although he is still in considerable pain, which I can relate to, having been through the same drill, admittedly with much less drama and theatrics. Like splitting a chicken breast, he will be feeling his wishbone breaking for about six months. 

I am glad that he has turned the corner and want to thank all of the well wishers, who were hoping and praying for his recovery. I hope to see him soon. I am so glad that he is out of the woods.

Feets, don't fail me now.

Last night Leslie and I had a fantastic evening with our friends Renee and Arnold. They had never met, Arnold living a bit north of us and not getting down to our area that often.

Arnold is a tall fellow who grew up with a lot of great Los Angeles musicians, including Arthur Lee and Paul Barrere. Very nice man, good player and a lot of fun. I enclose a picture of Arnold and Arthur together from 1964.

Paul is the ace long time guitar player for Little Feat. Arnold invited us to go with him to see Little Feat last night at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano. His treat, both tickets and backstage passes. Drinks apparently on the house.

Little Feat is one of the quintessential American bands, still one of the tightest groups in the known universe and we said sure without a moment's hesitation.

We all piled in my van, which I actually had washed for the occasion and drove the hour plus distance up to the show, accompanied by my Quicksilver Messenger Service CD which everyone knew all the words to.  Sing along time in the blue van.

Got close and started looking for food near the venue. Years ago, the McNalley's, fellow antique mavens from Rancho Santa Fe, introduced me to a restaurant called El Maguey near the mission. Very funky, but excellent food, if memory still served.

We drove by the gorgeous mission and found that the restaurant was in fact still there and had not succumbed to the up scale right wing yuppie virus that is Orange County. We walked into the place, which actually has two entrances, a take out and a sit down and you stare at the backdated place in wonder. The bric brac on the top shelf stood proudly, like it had been there for fifty years and counting with an occasional dusting. No pretension, just honest mexican food with some items that you won't find at the usual taco stand or gringo joint.

The food last night was good to almost great, but not necessarily superlative and not La Cabanita good, the alpha and omega of all mexican restaurants. Of course La Cabanita is Chile Nogada style chilango food, more refined District Federale fare and this is more Oaxacan or Sonoran real people's food. But there is a place for each and generally the items were most delicious. Leslie thought the chips were kind of stale but I think that was just the taste they were aiming for and we kept our minds free of critical thoughts.

I

We ordered drinks and my wife sparred with the server, who might actually be the owner, about the absence of onions on her plates. He gave as well as he got but could tell we were serious. I started off with the gorgeous posole which was served with a tray of limes, onion and cabbage. He brought us additional cilantro and we all shared the mouthwatering stew. Large chunks of tender pork floating in a red broth of hominy. Leslie thought it was as good as our friend J.'s, who sets the posole gold standard.

I ordered the deep fried whole tilapia with heavily garliced shrimp, which was similar to dishes I have had served in Oaxaca, except no black beans at El Maguey. A huge plate nicely garnished with all the trimmings. Fish was a bit overcooked and a little bit of work. I left a few of the more difficult parts on my plate. My table companions and I quickly polished off the shrimp, which were killer. Leslie had a wet burrito, similar to what she grew up with in Michigan. Renee had chile rellenos, which she said were great and Arnold a monstrous taquito plate.

You could tell that the server was really into food and after we started chatting, he ran out and brought us pictures of the prosciutto that he was making, in two different styles, one a parma. This stuff won't be for sale, just personal stash, but I was drooling. He said it will take about a year. I recommend this place with its extensive menu to the mexican food lover who wants to try authentic cuisine.

We finally hightailed it to the nearby club, after getting lost and turning around once or twice and the band quickly went into their set. I have seen Little Feat many times and this was one of the best sets I have heard them play. I loved Lowell and saw him often, perhaps even his last show before his death, when I was at a conference in Washington D.C. in the seventies. Although memory fades and it may have been the Bottom Line? He was wearing a camo outfit and looked terrible. But that was a long time ago... Anyway, this band stands on its own and weaves into some sonic places where few others dare to tread. Unfortunately the acoustics of the place are dreadful, the ceiling swallowing up most of the ambient highs.

The band played a lot of their old chestnuts, and the crowd ate it up like spanish hams. The cajun spiced polyrhythm was so dazzling, the drums and bass so on the spot, we were quickly whisked away into some luscious psychedelic groove. These guys have played together so long, Bill, Fred and Paul and yet never on top of each other, always sacrificing individual pyrotechnics for the music. It was a treat. Especially liked when they played Long Black Veil and the Weight. The crowd, who were all older folks like us, was in serious sing along mode all night.

Had a nice encore with some very soulful keyboard playing by the remarkable Bill Payne. Afterwards we went backstage and met Paul, who was beyond gracious and even remembered our names. Leslie drove us home (seemingly in half the time it took for me to get up there)  and we didn't turn into pumpkins, soon tucked safely back in our beds. On a scale of 1 to 10 this thursday night was faboo.

Lee Michaels

Scattergun Tuesday

My mom just called me to tell me that Furthur, the latest incarnation of what's left of the Grateful Dead, is playing in her back yard in eastern Pennsylvania. She lives in the Poconos near Bushkill Falls, in Hawley. She said everyone in line for tickets was over fifty and had a tie die and a fat belly and that I would have fit right in. She never liked the Dead that much or she would be there.

The last time I saw them, it was really bleak and I don't think I would take the plunge again but what the hell - maybe for old times sake. It's not the same without a little interplanetary travel and I am afraid those days are long over. Now all the idioms are worn out and the tunnels a bit dusty and I will pass, thank you.

***

I have never lived in PA but I went to fifth grade camp in the Poconos, near La anna. Incredibly beautiful area with native red salamanders called red efts. Bears and deer and a fabulous indoor food market in Allentown for native fare and cured meats.

***

My brother had a heart attack in Toronto last week and received a four way bypass. It was not a good time, as he is dealing with a host of other problems including diabetes, FSGS- a rare kidney disorder and apnea. He has been having post op problems breathing and they were afraid they were going to have to reinsert the breathing tube. Also a problem with sugar levels. His kidneys are not functioning properly and he had to undergo hemo dialysis today. I love him like no other and I have been a basket case all week. Just blew the whistle and let my mom know, so now all hell is about to break loose. I am planning to fly out at the first opportunity.

***

Leslie's back just went into the same paralytic funk mine has been in the last three weeks. Renee was gracious enough to let us use her jacuzzi and sauna yesterday. A little relief, but we are a pair to draw to.
Friend Gary had a carotid aneurysm this week. We are dropping like flies, ladies and gentlemen.

***

Finished the two books by Reverte and starting Carlos Ruiz Zafon's The Angel's Game. I love Spanish fiction, don't know why, must be a past life thing.

***

Going to see Little Feat thursday. My friend Arnold is taking me. We are old, and I hope we don't stay up too late. Yes and Frampton in a few weeks. Vegas soon.

***

Business is lousy and the streets are deserted. Two new galleries on the street, I wish them well. Krugman wrote a depressing editorial this morning on the next depression. If you want to find it, you will. My back hurts.

Blue Monday

Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy, Junior Wells

Sonny Boy Williamson and Otis Spann

Robert Boyle - English Chemist and Visionary

My wife Leslie pointed out an interesting article in the paper at dinner last night about Robert Boyle, the 17th century founder of Britain's Royal Society.

Boyle had an uncanny knack for auguring the future.

He envisioned submarines, airplanes, psychedelic drugs, organ transplants, kevlar armor, scratch and sniff paper, antidepressants, sleeping pills, genetically modified crops and a host of other predictions that have come true over the span of time.

Boyle, whose papers have just gone on display for the first time, had a wish list of 24 predictions, the majority of which have been fulfilled or discovered in the last 350 years.

Boyle was a writer, alchemist, physicist, theologian, inventor and scientist best known for Boyle's Law of Gases. Boyle's law describes the inversely proportional relationship between the absolute pressure and volume of a gas, if the temperature is kept constant within a closed system.

One of his prognostications was the ability to diagnose and practice medicine from afar. We are on the advent of such technology, in fact Paul Jacobs, CEO of Qualcomm announced this week that the cell phone is the perfect medium for medical diagnostics and they have a bunch of cool new gadgets planned. Of course, Dr. McCoy from Star Trek was all over this years ago, or from now, depending on your perspective.

Boyle founded the "Invisible College" at Oxford University and then the Royal Society of London for the Improvement of Natural Knowledge in 1660. The society's motto was Nullus In Verba – Take Nobody's Word For It. An interesting visionary, worth celebrating.

Annual Sex Survey

The Blue Heron Blast has just performed a very thorough and comprehensive survey on pornography on the internet. Don't look so shocked. It is everywhere.

You could be looking for a few honest figures on the yearly paper consumption in Surinam or the current stickiness quotient of wickets and be suddenly plunged into a carnal cyber abyss at any time.

I would wager that more people are using Al Gore's invention these days for self gratification than Quickbooks or checking the price of beets. Just a few keystrokes away, as they say.

In any case, as a public service to Blast readership, we have waded deep into Satan's trenches to assay the state of cyber porn and have some pithy comments to offer on the whole megillah.

You people have gotten really weird.

Grandma is apparently not just for baking cookies anymore. When and why did this happen?

Men are now shaving their pubic hair. Ok, why? Does anything look so stupid? Is this like those new hi-tech bathing suits now outlawed in international competition? Is the loss of friction and drag worth the resultant itch?

Speaking of pubic hair, vaginas are being trimmed, shaved, ringed, beaded and bangled at an alarming clip. Don't go to an orgy au natural unless you want to get laughed out of the joint and deemed a prudish puritanical throwback by your swinging peers.

And while on the topic of swingers, you would never want to have intimate relations with 95% of them unless suitably ensconced in several layers of industrial grade visqueen, and with a signed affidavit that said partner had all of the requisite shots, including tetanus and typhoid. This is admittedly judgmental, but the vast majority of the swingers I have met put the ug in ugly. And could be a host to a wide range of virus's and parasites that could ultimately curtail any hopes that you may have for any possible lovemaking endeavors in the future.

I must couch this, being an R rated blog at worst, and not wishing to unduly offend. The back door is now the front door, in some circles, the front door being relegated for very special occasions. Sort of like those chairs in the formal living room that mom kept the slip covers on. I don't think that some of the denizens of the new layout and procedure are as keen on the whole thing as they are letting on.

With so much sordid crap littering the netwaves, don't bother teaching the kids about sex education. They will TEACH you, offering tips on the finer points of reverse cowboy, multiple partners, gagging, spitting and a host of other ridiculous notions that have suddenly become standard issue in the sex biz. Some of what passes for lovemaking these days is really quite brutal and disgusting, but who asked me?

If the kids want to babysit for the neighbors, say no, trust me...

It also puzzles me that women will trade visible boob scars for a shapely and comely breast. I have had more stitches than Mama Cass's hemline and no one has ever suggested that they have any aphrodisiac quality.

Venue is now important, we tend to copulate anywhere and everywhere, glory holes, elevators, rest stops, truck stops, kitchen tables, classrooms, trains, planes, automobiles. Seemingly everywhere, except of course in beds, a twentieth century anachronistic contraption that I thought was conceived for just such a purpose. Now Trés outre.

I won't belabor this. With all of this free porn floating around, I don't see how any of the filth purveyors are making any money, or how the magazine or movie trade continues to flourish. They have done away with most of the plot lines, beelining straight to the entrees, but what the hell can you do these days that hasn't been done a million times in the past, and probably with better form and execution?

And on the subject of sex, did any of you catch the recent local lawsuit between lifesize, anatomically correct blow up doll companies? People are paying a fortune for a latex companion that doesn't ever talk back. But can they cook?

I could go on, but I think I need a squeegee and a shower. Bottom's up.

Raising Arizona.

I don't care if you are a rabid teabagger or a marxist rabblerouser (we all know that there is no longer a middle ground), when the bullshit rises to a certain level, it is incumbent on you to yell bullshit. This week the Arizona Governor made the totally unsupportable statement that the majority of undocumented workers entering this country are carrying drugs.

"We all know that the majority of the people that are coming to Arizona and trespassing are now  drug mules," Gov. Jan Brewer told the Arizona Republic Friday. "They're coming across our borders in huge numbers. The drug cartels have taken control of the immigration." "They're coming here, and they're bringing drugs." Illegal immigrants looking for work are being "accosted" by drug cartels, she said.

I have lived in a farm community near the mexican border for the last thirty years and have met plenty of undocumented workers. They tend to be extremely focused and hard working individuals that keep their nose clean. I signed green card papers over two decades ago for a family of guatemaleños that came back to work in my avocado grove year after year. I have never known a single undocumented worker that had anything to do with drugs.

Ms. Brewer panders to the most virulently bigoted segments of her community. Unfortunately a large portion of the nation's population will believe her. No matter that the head of the Border Patrol Union finds her allegations unsubstantiated. This governor clearly loves to be in front of a camera. Which is courageous considering, (see picture at left).

"The majority of people continue to come across in search of work, not to smuggle drugs," Border Patrol Spokesman T.J. Bonner said. Brewer's comments, Bonner said, don't "comport with reality -- that's the nicest way to put it."

According to a recent Rasmussen poll, 61% support Brewer in her race to win the Republican nomination for Governor. Further bolstering Brewer, 89% of GOP voters support the immigration law.

***

I was discussing the Prescott Mural situation last night with a friend who moved to the Arizona community several years ago. If you are unfamiliar, the townspeople got irate about a school mural celebrating diversity, egged on by a city councilman. The mural artists were subjected to a continual stream of foul epithets and were eventually forced to lighten the shade of the dark children's faces.

City Councilman Blair mistakenly complained that the most prominent child in the painting is African-American (he was hispanic), saying: "To depict the biggest picture on the building as a Black person, I would have to ask the question: Why?""You have changed the ambience of that building to excite some kind of diversity power struggle that doesn't exist in Prescott, Arizona. And I'm ashamed of that."


Psychiatrists would have a field day with this one. Rather than seeing a bunch of multihued children playing together in harmony, the white residents of town frame it as a diversity power struggle.
So the enlightened residents of our neighbor to the east have a problem if the white child isn't the biggest face on the mural. I see. I asked my friend about this. I was a bit shocked at his response.

"Hey, it would have been one thing to have an Indian or Mexican kid on the wall but we got Kunta Kinte instead."

Do you think this could have anything to do with us having a black president?

**

Of course, not to be outdone, Rep. Sue Myrick, R-N.C. is really smoking the crack. She wants Homeland Security honcho Janet Napolitano to investigate the hordes of Hezbollah militia members massing on our southern flank, in league with the drug cartels. Of course, she has no real evidence of this, but it might just manage to inflame the looneys that inhabit the kindred red sister states. How's this for fear mongering:

"Former intelligence officials have pointed to the terrain that makes up our border, especially in the San Diego border sector, as a reason why drug cartels have been partnering with Hezbollah. This terrain is very much like the areas around Israel's borders. As we well know, Hezbollah is extremely skilled in the construction of tunnels,"said Myrick. "Likewise, these intelligence officials say that the drug cartels, in an effort to dig larger and more effective tunnels, are employing the expertise of Hezbollah. For their expertise, Hezbollah could be receiving a cut of the drug money or even be helping put cash up front to assist in the overall drug operations."

Yes, Iran has made inroads in Venezuela and possibly Paraguay. In 2006 Mahmoud Youssef Kourani, the brother of a Hezbollah member, illegally came through the Mexican border on his way to live in Detroit.

But I would doubt that a nexus can be established placing a vanguard of islamic invaders at our back porch.

Nothing has to make sense any more or be rooted in the slightest tether to what actually exists in the real world. A bullshit soundbite creates its own existential reality. And who really has the time to figure out the difference?

Eskimo Blue Day

Snow called water going violent
Damn the end of the stream
Too much cold in one place breaks
That's why you might know what I mean
Consider how small you are
Compared to your scream
The human dream
Doesn't mean shit to a tree

Arctic Blast

The good folks at John D'amato's Crooks and Liars were kind enough to pick up my blast "War on Poor" and run with it today. I appreciate the ink from them, this is probably the fourth or fifth time they have given me the courtesy and it always exposes hundreds if not thousands of folks to my rants and writing. My feedjit widget is currently wheeling around like a drunken slot machine.

It also allowed me to reach my first denizen in the North Pole, if the widget can be believed. I don't usually indulge in too much self congratulatory back slapping but this milestone must be dutifully recognized. Also got a hit from some forgotten mountain in Indonesia where Shawn from Thailand is currently tooling around. And a hit from the cold barrens of Yellowknife.

So the Blast's slow crawl towards global domination continues to inch forward, finding it's way to the planet's loneliest nooks and crannies. Still can't get much traction in Africa, which either speaks to their good taste or possibly the lack of adequate bandwidth. But let me just say to my african brethren, the birthplace of our biped species, hakuna matata, I come in peace.

Thank you Crooks and Liars. And thank you, my faithful readers, no matter where you hail from.

Not the Incredible String Band

The Blue Heron Blast's own New York Stan has a gig in Scotland in August. Stan is a commercial photographer and teacher in New York but used to play in the String Band. He also was Muddy Waters and Janis Ian's road manager and worked at the Fillmore East and had a million other musical gigs. Stan is quite a guy and lives in New York City with his beloved pooch and his lap steel guitar. He was temporarily bodysnatched by aliens but is back and now quite comfortable in his corporeal flesh.

Stan is getting back together this summer with some of his old mates for some european gigs. If you are across the pond you might want to have a taste. Good luck, Stan old bean.
http://www.nottheisb.com
www.stanschnier.com

New Toy, Rock and Roll Nigger, Opposite World

Patti Smith

Greasy Fingers

So let me get this straight. The District Judge in Louisiana, Martin Feldman, a Reagan appointee, has now twice struck down a six month temporary oil drilling moratorium in the gulf. He cites irreparable economic harm to the gulf states.

Judge Feldman said the moratorium, intended to give time for improvements in rig safety measures, was “blanket, generic, indeed punitive,” Judge Feldman said on Thursday that the Interior Department now had 30 days to comply with his June 22 decision, a longer time than the 21 days he originally specified in his ruling. The government’s appeal of the ruling will be heard by the 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.

The Obama Administration had wanted the timeout to reassess the safety and management of offshore oil drilling, a modest request, in my eyes.

Anybody who has studied the BP Deepwater Horizon disaster with their eyes open should know a couple things by now. The Interior Department, specifically the Minerals and Management Services, has been a total whore for the oil industry and has shirked its responsibility to the American people. We have taken a look behind the curtain, and it ain't pretty. Yet we are now asked to shed disbelief and trust these very same companies to suddenly act responsibly.

We have been sold a bill of goods regarding the safety of these platforms and drilling practices, whose technology is inherently risky and unproven. Another spill, possibly of equal or greater proportions, is bound to occur. It is merely a matter of time and location. The industry is either blaming BP, the company that used to be the industry darling or calling the oil spill a perfect storm scenario that will probably never repeat itself.

Feldman, a Judge with huge investments in the oil business, including one of the major players in this fiasco, Transocean, should have recused himself from this case. The conservative right loves to pick on so called "activist" judges. What could be more activist than inserting the judiciary into a Department of Interior decision to right its ship and start watching the hen house again. To start testing the ram shears and inspecting equipment, to start mandating emergency plans that will work in the real world.

The Fifth Circuit is filled with judges that have major ties to big oil, I will not be surprised if the quash holds up. Then, god forbid some thing of this nature occurs again, the blood will be on the judges hands. The devastated marine life, the fisherman's livelihood. These judges are hamstringing our President and his ability to make sound rational decisions to keep our environment clean, our oceans safe, the kind of decisions some of us elected him for. All in the name of the almighty dollar. And from now on, environmental policy in this country will be conducted by paid off, fat cat, federal judges. Judge sez just keep doing what we're a doing. I feel better.

New Additions

Yesterday we discovered that the alleycat that hangs out in back of the shop has a young litter of four kittens. They are living in the small narrow 6"space between my building and the adjoining one to the north and hanging out in some old pots and buckets.

Our house cat Nigel was a back alley refugee as well. I don't want to really bring any more home to upset the balance as he is rather special and spoiled but they are awfully damn cute. I am sure that Leslie will line up homes. She fed them at 12:45 last night on her way back from the Psychedelic Furs concert in Solana Beach.

Three of the four kittens are friendly and accessible, the fourth is a shy dark kitten that likes to hide, sometimes in the drainage pipe. Stop by for a look.

Andy Griffith on Due Process and the Right to Privacy.

Parallel Universe

It has been most interesting to watch the primary election of Nikki Haley in South Carolina this week. It is readily apparent that South Carolina has earned its designation as the newfound eastern capitol of the Red States.

Congratulations to Haley, the second Indian American (red dot type, not native) candidate for a United States governorship. She had been dogged but not scarred by multiple accusations of infidelity, seemingly a prerequisite for elected office in South Carolina these days.

What was most fascinating, at least to me, was the unseemly litmus test that she had to undergo amongst the constituency in order to get elected. An adult convert to christianity from her native sikhism, she had to  deny being a buddhist! Can we acknowledge that Guatama may have originated in India, but that his followers there are few. One would have to surmise that they are not too up on those foreign type religions in the deep south.

Not so, says Haley on her website. “My faith in Christ has a profound impact on my daily life and I look to Him for guidance with every decision I make.  God has blessed my family in so many ways and my faith in the Lord gives me great strength on a daily basis.  Being a Christian is not about words, but about living for Christ every day.”

Haley has been hammered by constituents regarding her religious tenets. And rather than disavow the witchhunt and tell people that her religious views are her own business, she panders to her fundamentalist vote base and assures them that she has forsaken her family's religious roots and heritage for the Mediterranean son king. Her answer, "Absolutely not. I'm a Christian." One of the tenets of judaism, the mother religion of christianity, believe it or not, is that you should honor your parents. I am all for a spiritual conversion and god forbid that I judge, but be gracious and honor your family. Her apparent willingness to flee her native belief system, when faced with a big date in the power seat seems a little distasteful to me somehow. Maybe I'm wrong. I wonder if the non christian indians will be cheering for her?

A local group called the Palmetto Patriots also quizzed her on her confederate bona fides. The Palmetto Patriots are a bunch of good old boys that certify that candidates are in "conservative compliance.""What caused the civil war," she was asked? Any mention of the words slavery sure to kill her chances at a nomination, she stuck with the safe answer. "You had one side of the Civil War that was fighting for tradition, and I think you had another side of the Civil War that was fighting for change," she said. Them dad gum yankees trying to upset states right's and tradition and all.


The candidate has pledged to keep the beloved Confederate stars and bars flying in front of the State House.

The locals were still a tad apprehensive about a non cracker in the top seat. Phillip Bowers, the GOP chairman in Pickens County sent a message to GOP members suggesting that Mrs. Haley had been less than truthful about her religious conversion. "Mrs. Haley can't seem to make up her mind about her faith."

When the pastor Robert Slimp, a Columbia, S.C. reverend who was a member of the interrogation team was asked why none of Haley's rivals were subjected to the same inquisition he said the group did not ask her rivals about the war, because "all of them are Southerners whose families go back to beyond the war between the states, back to antebellum times, and they would have a deeper appreciation of Southern thinking and mentality." Even though she grew up in the state she obviously lacks the generational street cred.


I come away from this glad that I do not live in the bible belt. I am on record as to how I feel about the wretched vinegar based carolina barbeque. Glad that the south has elected a minority but sad that the minority in question had to undergo a convenient and well timed white wash to prove tolerable to the local palette.

Broken English

The beautiful quality of her voice reminds me of another great british singer, the Fine Young Cannibals' Roland Gift.

War on Poor

Destitute peapickers in California; a 32 year old mother. February 1936. Dorothea Lange

The current national conundrum is breaking down along some interesting demarcation lines. Poor people and the unemployed are now cast as lazy sinners who want to sponge off the fortunate few lucky enough to still have jobs.

Republican Orrin Hatch wants to test the unemployed for drug use.

Republican Michelle Bachmann is worried that BP is going to get fleeced and turned into "chumps" by the american taxpayer.

Republican Tea Bag candidate Rand Paul thinks that it is time for a little "tough love" for the unemployed.  “As bad as it sounds, ultimately we do have to sometimes accept a wage that’s less than we had at our previous job in order to get back to work and allow the economy to get started again. Nobody likes that, but it may be one of the tough-love things that has to happen.”

Ditto GOP teabagger Sharron Angle, running for the senate in recession wracked Nevada with its 14% unemployment thinks that Nevadans are just, well, spoiled. “You can make more money on unemployment than you can going down and getting one of those jobs that is an honest job, but it doesn’t pay as much… we really have spoiled our citizenry.”

Count Iowa Republican Rep. Steve King as another who thinks that the shiftless poor are getting over. King, says "We shouldn't turn the 'safety net' into a hammock. It should actually be a 'safety net'." Fair enough.

Nevada Republican Rep. Dean Heller thinks that we are about to see an upsurge in hoboing. Heller said the current economic downturn and policies may bring back the hobos of the Great Depression, people who wandered the country taking odd jobs. He said a study found that people who are out of work longer than two years have only a 50 percent chance of getting back into the workforce. “I believe there should be a federal safety net,” Heller said, but he questioned the wisdom of extending unemployment benefits yet again to a total of 24 months, which Congress is doing. “Is the government now creating hobos?” he asked.

Millions of Americans are out of work because the bailouts never trickled down farther than the steps of AIG and Goldman Sachs. Responsible people that have held jobs for decades are now finding themselves homeless and out of work. I have a friend who is a pentecostal minister who tells me that he has 12 new homeless families in his church, and none of them are psychotic, or drug users or alcoholics.

Yet the Republican Party chooses to carry water for their big business buddies and characterize the unemployed as shiftless, lazy parasites intent on gaming the system. Their compassion speaks volumes about how they feel about the American worker, some of whom have spent months and years looking for a job, not a handout. And notwithstanding the fact that current unemployment benefits are barely enough to get by for most individuals. We are back to social darwinism at its finest, with a wistful look back at Hobos and Hoovertowns. If you can't make it in the economic downturn, Jesus Christ probably just doesn't love you enough.

Looks like the good old class war is back in bidness. We have been through this before as a nation, and we will get by. Yeah I know, there will always be winners and losers. But just maybe some of the haves will taste a little instant karma and get to ride a few rails themselves. Here's hoping it instills a little empathy and tempers their free market idealism a smidge.