The Military, Part II

It's taken over a month, but here's some more thoughts on the military, following up on the first one I wrote back on September 13.

I would be lying if I said the US military has been well-used over the past few decades. I would be lying if I said I agreed with our troop deployments since the Reagan years. From Beirut and Grenada to Yemen and Libya, with the possible exception of Kuwait in the first Gulf War, American policy-makers have, by and large, treated the finest military in the world as a useful toy rather than the projection of American power as a way of intimidating our potential foes. The misuse of our military over the past decade has been extravagant, leaving it overstretched, taxing its mental and physical and financial resources, mocking the willingness of tens of thousands of Americans willingly to set aside their own safety and peace of mind in service to the defense of their country. When military leaders are asked to give their assessments of threats, folks across the political spectrum usually howl at what follows: the right carried on when global warming was called the most significant long-term military challenge the US will face; any mention of terrorism makes the Left upset because too often, that word has been used as a code for anti-Muslim sentiment (a situation made worse by recent revelations that the Justice Department has been using anti-Muslim propaganda in seminars).

Then, of course, there are the various criminal acts in which members of the military have engaged. Abu Ghraib. The murder of Iraqi civilians. These haven't helped the image of our troops among those predisposed to think ill of them, here and abroad. Yet, that is not who, nor is it what, our military is.

At its most basic, the military is an instrument of policy. The long history of uniformed deference to civilian control, while certainly staving off any possibility of the dread of a military threat to civilian rule, also leads the military to follow orders one could easily guess the military would not follow, given its druthers. At the same time, when ordered, say, to invade Iraq, or bomb Libya, or send Marines to Beirut (for what reason I'm still trying to figure out; memory is ill-served and the historical record doesn't make a whole lot of sense), the military is ordered to figure out how to do so efficiently and effectively. When the uniformed leaders bring their plans to their civilian leaders - like Donald Rumsfeld - and those plans for troop deployment are cut in half - as happened in the invasion of Iraq - and the military plans included policing after the collapse of local political leadership are completely deleted - as happened with the Iraqi invasion - for some reason, it is the military that takes the brunt of the complaint.

Then, of course, there are the folks who don't quite get that criticizing American foreign or military policy is not a criticism of the military per se, let alone criticism of "the troops". Criticizing DoD budget bloat is not code for being anti-military. It is what it is - criticism of budgetary bloat, a political process that deforms what should be a fiduciary responsibility of the highest priority. In recent years economies have been sought in odd places by the Congressional purse-holders. Pay for troops. Health care for troops and veterans. Physical plant for veterans' hospitals. Body armor and armored troop transports for forces in combat. I could go on.

I have said it several times, and will repeat it, just in case you missed it. We have the finest military in the world. Dedicated, professional, thoughtful, most of all willing to sacrifice the comforts of civilian life for the hazards inherent in uniformed service, we owe them a debt of gratitude that extends far beyond the simple platitudes we too often hear repeated for the services they have rendered in the past decade of wars. We owe them a demand that they be better used by their civilian leaders. We owe them the virtue of being listened to when asked their opinions on matters that relate directly to their mission. We owe them restructuring how we fund them, how we equip them, how we set up their force-structure so they can more effectively do their jobs. No more destructive wars of choice, fought on the cheap, ignoring basic realities such as the chaos that comes from the collapse of indigenous government institutions and the potential for civil and religious strife once a heavy hand is lifted.

Reality Gives The Best Ass-Kicking

As per my long-standing policy, I will not entertain comments that question the reality of global warming. While the idea, most recently made plain in an op-ed by Katrina VandenHeuvel in The Washington Post, that near-unanimous acceptance of a theory makes it true, is no way to talk about science, with each and every published scientific study, we find the evidence mounting that (a) the planet is warming at an increasing rate: (b) the reasons for that trend is the burning of fossil fuels, releasing carbon dioxide to the atmosphere that traps heat; (c) absent action about a decade ago, the upward trend of global temperatures and the concomitant climate catastrophes will increase.

A simple graph makes the first point clear enough, even for the scientifically challenged:

Temperatures trending upward over the past 130 years mean . . . c'mon people . . . the planet is getting warmer.

One would think this would be enough to silence people who repeat Sen. James Inhofe's (R-OK) mantra that global warming is a scam. Alas, one would be wrong.

Last week, a team led by physicist Richard Muller released the first fruits of research on global warming. As Kevin Drum noted, Muller was a bit of a darling among climate skeptics. A physicist who insisted that global warming deniers had some good points, he did what scientists do. He went around and gathered money from rich philanthropists, some of whom are climate change troglodytes, and created the Berkeley Earth Surface Temperature (BEST) project. An aside - this is what real scientists do; they actually do research and study stuff, rather than make comments about the size of Al Gore's house. Anyway, BEST used completely different sets of analytical methods, including different statistical methods and modeling and they discovered . . . well, I'll just let Muller tell you what they found:

In the press release announcing the results, Muller said, "Our biggest surprise was that the new results agreed so closely with the warming values published previously by other teams in the US and the UK." In other words, climate scientists know what they're doing after all.

So, first we have the simplest of scientific techniques - a graph that shows temperatures going up. Then, we have a physicist who expressed wariness over climate change models who did his own research and discovered . . . climate change models were right! That's even better than counting the number of published articles!

Yesterday, Charlie Pierce noted another little fun fact:

Of all the Alerts for which I have subcontracted with the firm of Google and Sons, the ones regarding Shishmaref are the ones I open automatically. Shishmaref is a barrier island in arctic Alaska where I spent a week a couple of years ago. Shishmaref is being devoured by the Chukchi Sea. This is because the sea does not freeze as early as it used to freeze, nor does it stay frozen as long as it used to. This is also because Shishmaref has lost most of its permafrost in the ground. Both of these conditions are due to the changes in the global climate that have been wrought by human activity and, of course, have been exaggerated by scientists desperate to suck up that sweet, sweet grant money. Sometime in the next couple of decades, the people of Shishmaref will be the first environmental exiles in North America.

What follows is not addressed to folks like Inhofe whom, I would guess, knows that when he denies global warming he is doing so at the behest of his paymasters in the oil and gas industry. I always follow Chomsky's advice, viz., speaking truth to power is useless because the powerful already know the truth. Rather, it is important to speak the truth to folks who feel overwhelmed by information, claims and counter-claims.

The planet is getting warmer. The evidence, and scientific study of that evidence, shows that each and every day. This isn't written to scare anyone. I don't hate capitalism (well, I'm not a big fan of it, either . . .), or America, or technology. I don't want to reverse the marvels of the technological revolution so much as continue to create more marvels that are safer for the planet as a whole.

Incidentally, my guess is the couple trolls who occasionally stop by here and insist they do not accept global warming neither know nor care all that much about the issue; as with so much else in Trollistan, my guess is they only see an opportunity to act like a douchebag, and grab hold with both hands. So, yeah, I'm gonna delete your comments as best as I can, if you decide to put some on here.

For folks who genuinely aren't sure, only because of information overload, rest assured - there is good solid information out there. Use some common sense, do some digging (Google can be a friend), and you, too, can come to understand what's going on.

When the Days Get Shorter And The Nights Get Long

For some reason, hearing British bands puts me in mind of autumn. Not all British bands. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones don't do it for me. The Who, very English, don't. Traffic is more a summer-music band. I try not to think of Led Zeppelin too much at all, any season.

Pink Floyd, though? Man, I hear "Time" or "Dogs" or "Welcome to the Machine", and I can picture myself on some narrow country lane, the spire of a country parish just a couple miles off, the cool, damp English breeze scuttering clouds across the sky.

Another quintessentially British artist that makes me wax autumnal is Kate Bush. Her The Sensual World, which featured David Gilmour on a couple tracks, is among my favorite late-80's albums. She just has that Englishness about her that makes me think fondly of naked trees against a cloudy sky, a crisp wind billowing leaves about.

Sometimes Music Can Fill The Hole In Your Heart

Ending a relationship with someone, from whichever direction - yours or the other person's - is never easy. It is, in fact, much akin to death. The void in one's life is one that, years later, can still be felt. You never replace those to whom one has said goodbye, voluntarily or not. At best, you learn to live, and smile, and laugh again. You never replace them.

I remember hearing a comedian talking about how, during a breakup, every song on the radio seems to speak to you. Even "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer"; "She had a nose just like that . . ." It's true. And the best breakup songs, well, they give shape to feelings that, in the midst of the pain and emptiness, we are too afraid to look at too closely.

The early to mid-1970's was a time in music when the lessons from Motown were spreading. While Motown itself was expanding beyond pop sensibilities, the void it left opened up space for soul groups to fill with radio-friendly songs and groups that combined the musical sophistication of Motown with the live presence of acts like The Four Tops, The Temptations, and The Supremes. One of these groups, The Manhattans, has a great song about breaking up that tells the story from the point of view of the one ending the relationship. In the transition from the opening narration by the bass singer to the tenor lead, you get a shift from speech to the kind of grief-stricken weeping that is part of the set-piece of a breakup.

Heard It In A Love Song So It Can't Be Wrong

For all he was an irascible person (which is a nice way of saying he could be a real dick), Miles Davis' musical persona was one of warmth, vulnerability, passion, and romance. Few musicians were better at creating great backdrops for classy assignations. Music from his Kind of Blue and Sketches of Spain LPs, to be sure, were both popular (by jazz standards) and certainly offered a marvelous musical tapestry if a young man wanted to impress a young woman with his taste, class, and style enough to get her in to bed.

When he wanted to, though, Miles could just do a love song. Period. His release Some Day My Prince Will Come, featuring his beautiful young wife on the cover (after a previous album had featured a leggy blonde, Miles had pitched a fit because, if had shown up anywhere in the country on the arm of that same model, he would have been in a whole lot of trouble), was aided by a special appearance on the title track by tenor saxophonist John Coltrane. 'Trane had been in Miles' band a few years before, but Miles had kicked him out because of 'Trane's growing addiction to heroin. In the intervening years, Coltrane had gotten off drugs and started a quartet of his own. There are various stories about how Coltrane ended up playing on the record, but whatever the case may be, he's there.

In this live recording, from The Blackhawk in San Francisco, April, 1961, Hank Mobley does a great job not so much covering Coltrane as making the song his own.

The Soundtrack Of Your Life

Hands down, my favorite movie soundtrack is for the Guy Ritchie film Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels. The problem comes trying to pick out a song! James Brown, Junior Murvin, Robbie Williams, even an old British pop chestnut from the mid-1960's is on offer. So, let's just go with Pete Wingfield's "18 With a Bullet".

So Many Songs I Wish I Had Written

There are so many songs I'd wish I'd written. Most of them should be obvious by now.

So, rather than obvious, let's go with a surprise.

When I heard the next song, in the depths of the 1980's, I thought it was really good. Each time I heard it, it got better. Even though the band's release after the LP that contained this song was even bigger, had more radio-friendly songs on it, this song stands out as something special. It's simple, got a driving beat you can either dance to or nod your head to. The lyrics are simple and direct. It's the kind of thing you can hear in a club or in an arena and, if the band is cooking and the vibe is right, should work to get people pumped up. So, without further ado . . .

Dedicated II - Some People Don't Quite Get Some Songs

I always chuckle when people request Eric Clapton's chestnut, "Wonderful Tonight", at wedding receptions. I didn't need to hear an interview with him to know the song was about a guy who's so tired of his woman's nagging, her neediness, that he drinks himself to oblivion and repeats empty compliments just to shut her up. Yet, yeah - folks want to hear it, thinking it's a song about how much someone loves someone else.

"Every Breath You Take" is even worse in this regard. A song of dangerous obsession, I don't know who in my family coined the phrase (it might have been my youngest sister, the cleverest of us by far), I call it "The Stalker's Anthem". Getting requests for that song just creeps me out.

Richmond had a pretty good commercial "alternative" station back in the mid-1990's, when we first moved down there. They even, on occasion, took requests, something most commercial stations just don't do. I was shocked when a woman not only requested, but dedicated "Possession" by Sarah MacLachlan to someone. In . . . love.

The lyrics are taken from letters Ms. MacLachlan received from a "fan" against whom she took out a TRO. There isn't an ounce of love in this song. I called the station and chatted with the on-air personality (I refuse to call him a DJ because, well, he sits in front of a microphone while a tech guy presses a button on a computer to cue up songs) and we both agreed it was kind of sick. The next night he played it again, with my dedication to the people who weren't bright enough to get the song was sick. It's the one and only time, and the last time, I've had a request and dedication on commercial radio - to all the people who think, "I'll kiss you so hard/I'll take your breath away/And after I wipe away the tears/Just close your eyes, dear" is romantic, rather than a threat of physical violence.

Dedicated I - Cheesy 80's Metal Edition

Alfred University had a great radio station once upon a time. WALF - 89.5 on your FM dial; 200 watts of stereo power that almost reached outside campus - was the kind of place people imagined college radio was, once upon a time. It had no format, allowing the DJs the opportunity to play whatever they wanted, FCC regulations permitting. Or not, on occasion.

My friend Jim had one of the most eclectic shows on their schedule. When we were juniors, someone - maybe it was him, I don't really remember - found some recordings of old radio serials, and Jim decided to play them during one show. His opening was a mash-up borrowed from, among other things, the opening of that chestnut, the TV Theme Songs LP that was such a huge hit in the mid-1980's. He could play jazz one second, something obscure by Aztec Camera (a truly underrated band) the next.

His good friend Phil had the heavy metal show. Phil found gems amidst the dreck that was heavy metal in the decade that made it popular. When we were seniors, he discovered Auburn, NY's favorite sons, Manowar. They had released an album called Fighting The World whose virtues included a direct rip-off of the cover of KISS's classic Destroyer LP. Don't believe me?

All their songs have a "sword-and-sorcery" theme, as if they hadn't quite escaped the clutches of Robert E. Howard. The cheese factor is extremely high; a bunch of kids from Auburn writing about fighting the world, sharpening their swords, killing the evil hordes is a recipe for hilarity. The opening song, "Defender", was something special. The band had finagled Orson Welles to "narrate" the opening of the song, adding a level of faux-gravitas to their over-the-top songs. This concert clip is pretty cool only because the bass player does a fantastic job on the intro, playing his eight string for all its worth.

Cleaning House

When the Rev. Mrs. and I clean the house together, we enjoy pretty much anything by Pat Metheny (except for his noise record, Zero Tolerance For Silence). Even though he's doing acoustic covers of The Association and insisting in interviews that The Carpenters are both cool and musically sophisticated, he has also produced some truly marvelous music over the decades. With long-time collaborator Lyle Mays, and in this video clip with bassist Mark Egan doing a fair-to-middlin' imitation of the late great Jaco Pastorius, Pat created a sound and style that is recognizable the moment you hear it.



I don't get the urge to dust and vacuum when I hear this, but I don't get the urge not to, either.

You're Never Too Old To Have A Crush On Someone Famous

My favorite line from WKRP in Cincinatti has always been, "Hey Venus, let's go look at some Carly Simon album covers." See, my oldest sister had a couple old Carly Simon records, so I knew instantly what Johnny Fever was talking about.

When I was a teenager, there was only one female performer who impressed me . . . umm . . . that way. Grace Slick. Man . . .

I entered adulthood free from the kinds of juvenile attachments to celebrities that are the domain of youth.

Then, I saw Cassandra Wilson perform.



The voice and the person go together to create this aura of transcendent beauty. She is one of the few people who, if I managed to actually meet, I would be at a complete loss as to what to say. She's probably smack me to get my eyes back in their sockets.

Willing To Be Convinced

My knee-jerk reaction to Friday's announcement that around 100 American military personnel were being sent to several African nations - Uganda, Sudan, the Central African Republic - to aid locals in their fight against the Lord's Resistance Army and search for the leader, Joseph Kony was negative.

After some time to think, I am still wary. All the same, I am willing to be convinced. I doubt I would ever be completely happy with a project like this. We are still bogged down in Afghanistan; we have 47,000 troops in Iraq (although the Obama Administration has signaled they will meet the end-of-the-year deadline to bring the bulk of them home); our participation in the Libyan Civil War, in the midst of these other military endeavors, certainly presented strains on logistics, intelligence, supply, and other matters.

Add to that 100 troops, even if highly-trained special forces - Army Rangers, Marines, who knows what - hardly seems large enough to make a serious contribution to the struggle against what amounts to nihilistic terrorist organization. The brief, as it has been explained, is the troops are there to assist. They are to engage in defensive combat only, although the Canadian National Post is correct that any meeting would result in combat. Before American troops entered Afghanistan in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, a small spec-ops force made it as far as the building housing the ruling Taliban, and were wiped out. Too small a force, far from any conceivable supply line is not a recipe for an easy time.

On the other hand, the LRA is despicable. Seeming to enjoy violence for the sake of violence, kidnapping and inducting child-soldiers, using girls as sex slaves, whole-sale slaughter the rule rather than the exception, the LRA has no indigenous support, relying on threats of violence and terrorizing locals to keep them in line.

A larger force, with the potential for future systematic military deployment - creating a future base, in other words - would certainly be more worrying. The area of Africa in question, like much of the continent, is resource rich; the Chinese, in particular, have been investing heavily in creating sustaining extraction infrastructure in various areas of the continent. In some ways, the US sending a small force without creating the infrastructure necessary for long-term occupation does seem to contradict the usual neo-colonial criticisms of such actions. If any country would be aided by the eradication of the LRA, it would be China.

I'm still not convinced this is either wise or good policy. It has much to recommend it. It also has much going against it. Pres. Obama does seem to grasp that, rather than massed armies with tanks, artillery, and air cover, for right now the best military force is small, highly-trained, and mobile. He has used special forces against Somali pirates, Osama Bin Laden, and probably so many others of which we shall never hear. Dispatching such forces may signal a decision on how he envisions future American military force structure (along with the explosion in the use of UAVs by the Air Force). If successful, it may well succeed in multiple ways.

Call me wary, but willing to be convinced that this is good policy. On simple humanitarian grounds, it seems wise. Nation-states aren't in the humanitarian business, in particular their militaries. So, convince me, one way or another.

A New 30 Days

In the fall of 1983, Roberta Flack performed at Alfred University with the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra. Her touring band was with her, but the full orchestra was behind them. Gymnasiums aren't the best sonic environment - two years later, drummer Buddy Rich would mutter, "Fucking gyms" during a break at a gig at AU - but I had great seats in the balcony just above stage left. This was the last gasp, in some ways, of a style of performing like this. One of her collaborators, the great Donny Hathaway, had died. Later that winter, Marvin Gaye would be murdered by his senile father. Michael Jackson's Thriller was rushing out record shop doors faster than most could get it in.

But so were recordings by Sugar Hill Gang and Grand Master Flash. The next year, three guys from Hollis in Brooklyn who called themselves Run D.M.C. would release their first full length album, King of Rock. The musical landscape was about to change.

All the same, the show was phenomenal. Some performers are just must-sees.

The Last Day

This month-long exercise in attempting photography has been an eye-opener for me. Specifically, while I appreciate great photography, I cannot do it.

That being said, here's the many sides of me.

Tomorrow, I start a different thirty-day challenge, because I need structure.

Lisa is the 99%. Randall is become death, and it is sad.


Facebook has a lot of stupid stuff, which I devoutly ignore. They did a "30 Day Song Challenge" a few months back, and it was fun. There have been several improvements, deviations, variations, and the one I like best, which I start tomorrow, follows:

DAY 1: A song you've seen performed live
DAY 2: A song by an artist you have a crush on
DAY 3: A song you listen to when cleaning
DAY 4: A song that's been dedicated to you
DAY 5: A song you've requested on the radio
DAY 6: A song you wish you wrote
DAY 7: A song from your favourite soundtrack
DAY 8: A love song
DAY 9: A break up song
DAY 10: A song that reminds you of Autumn
DAY 11: A song that reminds you of Winter
DAY 12: A song that reminds you of Spring
DAY 13: A song that reminds you of Summer
DAY 14: A song you've played on a jukebox
DAY 15: A song from the first album you purchased
DAY 16: A song that describes your home town
DAY 17: A song you misheard the lyrics to
DAY 18: A song from the first group you saw live
DAY 19: A song you loved as a child
DAY 20: A song you listen to when you're in a bad mood
DAY 21: Your favourite music video
DAY 22: A song that describes your world view
DAY 23: A song you listen to in transit
DAY 24: A song you have performed in public
DAY 25: A song from a local band
DAY 26: Your favourite TV theme song
DAY 27: A song you listen to on the weekend
DAY 28: A song that motivates you
DAY 29: A song that's always stuck in your head
DAY 30: A song from the year you were born

The 99 Percent And A Restatement Of Principles

The other day, I saw the following comment on a post at The Daily Howler. I linked to it on Facebook. It reads in part:

The problem with our rank and file is that they get off on being what they regard as morally and intellectually superior to THOSE OTHER PEOPLE--a superiority which they demonstrate by demeaning mainstream Americans, especially white men, while screaming about how THOSE OTHER PEOPLE are bigots. It's insane, but that's what they're doing.

Today, Somerby wrote the following. He links to two different Hullabaloo posts, one by David Adkins, the other by Digby, then writes the following:

Who on earth would ever have thought that “the entire 99 percent” was ever going to “rise up against the rest?” Who would have thought that the Occupy movement “is going to sweep the country without any substantial opposition from average Americans?” Using Atkins’ silly construction, who would have pictured “an agreement on rational, sensible policy on which we can all come to consensus?” Who would have thought that this movement’s new math amounted to such a prediction?

In her post, Digby was playing the set-upon victim, as she increasingly likes to do; she pretended it wasn’t “fashionable” to make her statement, which was in fact simply fatuous. Politics is never about getting everyone to agree, and the Occupy movement’s insightful new math doesn’t mean that we are trying to win 99 percent agreement. It means that blue tribal members might approach reds with a broader perspective—might even help some reds come to see that they're part of the 99 too.

--snip--

Poor Digby! She is subjected to so much static for her daring posts. It isn’t just the billionaires who will resist—average Americans will resist too! For ourselves, we have no idea who would have doubted this obvious fact; of course, many average Americans will choose to stay with the reds. The question as one builds a movement is of course different from that.

No one tries to win everyone over. The real question turns on "how many."

How many people in the red tribe might end up seeing themselves as of the 99 percent? There’s no way to know until you approach them—and that’s what tribal tribunes, all through history, have always inveighed against. As she continued, Digby noted that the Tea Party Express was dissing the Occupy folk—and Tea Party Nation was dissing them too! We have no idea why that would be a surprise to any sentient person.

--snip--

Digby’s favorite word is “they.” It’s a word which denies that even one of “those people” could have the human qualities which define our own wonderful tribe. Yes, we know—she doesn't say “all.” But as as you read, where is the emphasis?

Projection is also a mark of such tribals. Those people “have a deep need to see themselves as better than somebody. It’s just who they are,” Digby explains. But that’s pretty much the feeling we get from the headstrong strivers at Hullabaloo, who tell us, in sweeping terms, that those people are “morally repulsive,” “disgusting and shameful,” unable to “feel basic empathy” on the basis of the fact that they saw they've seen a lot of kids squandering student loan money.

As always, the haters have been Where the Wild Things Are. On the basis of their travels, they want you to know that “those people” won't be on your side!

All of which leads to a simple observation - the biggest hurdle the the OWS folks face isn't ignorance, or ridicule from the mainstream press, or detractors on the right. It's potential ideological allies who will dismiss, deride, and defame potential allies for one simple reason - they don't think like "us"! The Hullabaloo posts make that pretty clear.

I've been blogging for five years, and have yet to make clear I am not the least bit interested in arguing. With anyone. Nor do I make any claim to superior insight, or wisdom, or understanding. I will most certainly call out blatant bigotry when it rears its ugly head; as my policy regarding Holocaust deniers, creationists, and global-warming deniers should make clear, I don't waste time dealing with nonsense, either. Factual error is just that, and I have no real need or inclination to waste time or space with folks who insist on the rough equivalent that 2+2=5.

I am interested, and have always been interested, in how folks view the world. How those views effect the way they live their lives. Even if the choices are such that I could never make them. That was the reason I first attempted, so many years ago, to converse with Neil Simpson. I couldn't care less that he believes I am some kind of non-Christian; I am interested in what he believes and why. He couldn't seem to understand that. It was far more important to him to criticize what I was saying than to take the time to actually read and understand it.

Political, religious, and other differences are important. They are not personal. I have disagreed with folks I respect a great deal, and here's the thing - I still respect them! As I wrote on Facebook, I have friends who are supporting Newt Gingrich for President. I have friends who are Marxists. I have friends who are clergy. I have friends who are atheists. And I think it's wonderful! I read their links and posts and marvel at the differences, and celebrate it.

The Occupy Wall Street movement, with its chant of "We Are The 99%" is an opening to really talk about the real problems we all face. Some of the folks I've seen interviewed sound an awful lot like libertarians. Others sound like, and probably are, various shades of socialists, communists, and anarchists. Rather than label them, or set up some ridiculous notion that even a majority of people will identify with the movement, it might be wise to shut up, listen, and think about the message. Even if we differ in how we understand how we got here, and what to do about it, it might be nice to sit and talk, together, about the simple reality that we all seem to share something in common - we're all, equally - red state and blue state, conservative and liberal, Republican and Democrat - screwed.

30 Day Photo Challenge, Day 29

I was scanning some old photos this summer and discovered, much to my chagrin, that several of them had scanned black and white. Then, I found that there's a button on our three-in-one scanner/copier/printer that, when pushed, rendered the pictures in b&w. I went back and looked and some of them actually turned out . . . interesting.

Gretchen was particularly photogenic in b&w, being a Harlequin.

This photo of Lisa with then-presiding Bishop Joe Sprague burning the mortgage on the parsonage for Community UMC in LaMoille, IL looks like a newspaper photo. Actually, I took it on a disposable camera. Such is what happens when pictures are rendered b&w.

Lisa and her mother, the day Lisa graduated from Wesley Theological Seminary.

In the category of real b&w photos, at my the recent party celebrating my father's 90th birthday, my cousin put together a small memory book. In it was something I, nearing 46 years old, had never seen - a wedding photo of my parents. March 31, 1954.

Hint: For the last day, expect the unexpected.

Lisa makes hay while the sun shines. Randall captures Cleveland's cheery side.

30 Day Photo Challenge, Day 28

From Genesis' "Supper's Ready" (I'm not sure which member of the band wrote the lyrics:

How Dare I Be So Beautiful?

Wandering in the chaos the battle has left,
We climb up the mountain of human flesh,
To a plateau of green grass, and green trees full of life.
A young figure sits still by a pool,
He's been stamped "Human Bacon" by some butchery tool.
(He is you)
Social Security took care of this lad.
We watch in reverence, as Narcissus is turned to a flower.
A flower?

Late summer flowers are no less beautiful than those that burst forth in spring, you know, Lisa. Sometimes, the pictures are so beautiful you just want the world to stop.

There's Always Something New Under The Sun, Even If It's A Bad Copy

Sometimes ramming around YouTube, randomly clicking this or that leads to the most interesting finds. For example, I had never heard of a band called Rishloo, and almost immediately I discovered a band taking Tool's approach to tonality, songwriting, arranging. They don't really add much to that general way of creating music, but it does have its moments.



Another Tool-like band is Isis. I think the sonic resemblance is pretty clear here.



Then there is Antithesis. Not sure what to call this other than melodic . . . what? Not quite metal, harder than hard rock, though. Lead singer sounds like a cross between Russell Allen of Symphony X and Steve Walsh of Kansas.

Also, too, I got a release by the unknown band Under the Sun. If the lead singer had sung instead of talked the lyrics, it would vastly improve the record. Maybe a bit more keyboard in the mix, too - it's there, just muffled, not quite muddy, but not clear, either. Mr. Record Reviewer, that's me!

Sargasso Sea - Scale the Summit
Manhunt - Shadow Gallery
Gonna Get Ya - Pete Townshend
ETI: Extra Terrestrial Intelligence - Blue Oyster Cult
Sex Sleep Eat Drink Dream - King Crimson
Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion) - The Dead, Allstate Arena, May 5, 2009
Wish You Were Here (Live) - Pink Floyd
Day Eight: School - Ayreon
The Joke's On You - Porcupine Tree
Duke's Travels (Live, Archive #2) - Genesis

Because they are too often over-looked these days, or thought of as a band that just did weird, hard-rock novelty songs, it Blue Oyster Cult showing the world how it's done.

30 Day Photo Challenge, Day 27

In May, 1994, Lisa and I spent a week in the Bay Area of California. We traveled down to Monterrey and Carmel-By-The-Sea. We went to a state park, driving up a mile-high mountain and wandering amongst the tarantula holes. We went to Berkeley, where we drove by People's Park. We also spent a day in the People's Republic of San Francisco. At the Marina, one jetty at Pier 19 have been taken over by California Sea Lions. This being San Francisco, it was turned over to them. From a distance folks stood around, snapping pictures, and wished they had the life of those sea lions.

We went to Alcatraz, and while we waited for the ferry, I took a picture of the island with a really hot foreground image.

It is only from Alcatraz that you get an idea of just how beautiful the city of San Francisco really is. The next shot tried to capture it, failed pretty miserably because I didn't bully my way through all the people, but you can see the city, hazy in the distance.

Lisa tries and fails to distance herself from our madness. It's the image that's lonely, not the photographer.

30 Day Photo Challenge, Day 26

Close-up, you say?

An SEM photo of a stack of silicon about one angstrom tall. It's dust from an etching process that just happened to stack up that way, according to the website where I found the photo.

And you were expecting . . . what? A picture of my finger?

Lisa is all buggy. A picture is worth a run-on sentence, I think.