It took Monday to decompress from my Saturday and Sunday. Not that my weekend wasn't good, it just entailed a lot of running around. I felt as though I was permanently attached to my car at one point...but as long as taking my little guy to the pool and to his first baseball game of the season (not to mention taking li'l ol' me to a Geek Dinner, 'cause if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy) made him a happy camper, it was all worth it.
Since our swine flu stay-at-home time, we've been heading to the swimming pool a great deal. And not just any pool...my son prefers the pool he learned how to swim in for the past few summers, to the point where he refuses to swim in other pools I take him to. Granted, I can understand the pool preference thing, as there are some swimming pools I've seen that have seriously creeped me out, and he is still a novice swimmer, but I hope he gets comfortable swimming in more than one pool, and soon. It gets crazy having to schlep the kid out to Metairie all the time.
Seeing the kid swim, however, makes me realize how spoiled I was when I was learning how to swim. I had access to pools that weren't too shallow or too deep, so I could practice moving about in the water without freaking out about whether or not I could touch the bottom of the pool if I had trouble doggy-paddling. My son is learning in pools with shallow ends at 3 to 3 1/2 feet deep, and he spent a couple of summers hanging out on the steps that bring the kids down to that level, since he was too short to be confident that the water wouldn't be over his head when he tried to stand on the pool floor.
Where does that leave us, then? Picture a bizarre, quasi-comedic ritual of having this child continually jump in the pool not far from those same steps he spent so much time on these past few summers, dog-paddle or kick over to those steps, climb out, and jump in again, yelling things like "Keep your legs straight when you hit the water!" in a British accent, while I repeatedly try to give him tips such as "Paddle with your arms in front of your head, honey, not off to the sides of your body," and am repeatedly ignored on that count. Thankfully, I am not ignored when the kid gets more confident and decides to jump into the pool at a distance further away from the steps but still close to the wall of the pool: "Kiddo, you're getting tired, I can tell. Swim to the wall when you get tired,"I say, and, wonder of wonders, he does what I say and the lifeguard breathes a sigh of relief.
And, in this way, the little guy's swimming slowly improves.
Slowly.
_______________________
So glad to have been able to attend my first Geek Dinner in a long while, and to have dragged lunanola and Net2NO's Jessica Rohloff into the mix over there Saturday night! Just wish I could have stayed longer, but the little guy was tanking from a full day himself, even though he outlasted Dangerblond in her own house, no less. It was good to see Racymind again and see she was doing well, but boy, did I miss Sophmom. Please get well soon, madame!
Also, a hearty mazel tov to Clay and Candice on their engagement (They met at Geek Dinner III - a match made through NOLA blogging circles!), and to Pistolette on the birth of her second child.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Friday, May 08, 2009
A blue moon ago or so, yaller blogger Jeffrey threw up a post that said he might as well shut down his blog, as some of his best posts were comments on another blog.
Well, now I'm hitting one of those stretches, only the place where I've been leaving supposed "gems" behind has been The Gambit's Blog of New Orleans. First it was the swine flu insanity. Currently, it is Nine Lives author Dan Baum's use of Twitter to tell the story of how he was fired from the staff of The New Yorker magazine. From Baum's reply to Kevin Allman's post:
Tweeting this story about my time at the New Yorker is a strange exercise, I’ll grant you that. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t realize the size of the tiger whose tail I was grabbing. I had 25 followers at lunchtime today and watching the number soar is a bit unnerving.
Mr Baum, from one veteran Tweeter Tube wrassler (3,984 tweets to date!) to you, a novice at the use of this medium, I will first tell you that trying to read through your story as it is - from the bottom up and in incomplete sentences - gave me quite a headache. Your tale so far is intriguing, but the format is infuriating.
Having said that, there are ways to turn the limitations of Twitter to your advantage. Consider your sentences and your usage of words much more carefully, and don't shy away from using abbreviations, as it can sometimes be the only way to get things across within a 140 character limit. You're using links to your proposals, which is great. Just keep it all tight so it makes sense without the dyslexic sensation for the readers.
Also, if you are doing this in order to answer the New Yorker questions everybody seems to have for you during interviews and q-&-a's on your book tour, use the interactivity of Twitter to keep the current tweets from having that one-sided conversational feeling. Reach out to your readers a little more, ask them where they might want this tale of yours to go and use it as a guide (possible case in point). Otherwise, take this well-written, highly disjointed story in the making and post it on your website in full.
As for what Baum's motive might be in starting on this Sisyphean endeavor, journalist Nancy Rommelman alerts readers of the Blog of New Orleans post of this post at Bloggasm concerning Baum's ironic use of tweets to tell his story about the business practices of a magazine that has printed "some of the longest articles in the industry." Baum essentially says, over on Bloggasm, that yes, he’s thinking it might sell some books, Rommelman says...and heeeeere's where the fine line between integrity and self-promotion starts to fray.
Motive is always tricky. Motive, when all is said and done, turns an action right back on the person performing it and, depending on the circumstances, can caress or kill.
Baum, again:
It’s a gimmick, yes, and I hope it sells books, sure. But it’s also galled me a bit, as a reporter, that the New Yorker pulls a veil of secrecy over itself to rival the NSA. I mean, it’s a very good magazine, but it’s just a magazine. And as I travel to talk about “Nine Lives,” people express a lot of interest in it. “How does it work over there?” “How do you break in?” “What’s the editing process like?” “Why’d you get fired?” The New Yorker is a national institution, and I have a journalist’s natural urge to inform the public about it.
Without giving too much away, my getting fired was in very large part my own fault, so it’s not a full-on dish by an aggrieved victim. And I hope people will see that I have a lot of good things to say about the place.
So, the motive, according to Baum, is to follow his journalistic impulses, that "natural urge". And that's a good urge, overall. That's an urge that led him to write a great book that hopefully will stand the test of time and stand apart from the unfortunate foot-in-mouth comments he made about the people of New Orleans in the promotion of said book.
What I still question, however, is the use of Twitter for this purpose, which is one hell of a place to try to straddle that fine line between integrity and self-promotion.
Personally, I smell another nonfiction book in all of this on the inner workings of The New Yorker from the perspective of someone who was once an insider of sorts....although there are most certainly even more fine lines to consider when the sad tale of one's firing is in book form, no matter what the circumstances.
Watch your six with this trick, Mr Baum.
Update, 5-9: Another aspect of the tweets that Dana Goldstein picked up on through the use of pronouns:
Reading his tweets, I felt compassion for a fellow magazine journalist, who is obviously heartbroken after being dumped by the magazine he loves. But I also noticed something else: In discussing his work, Baum alternates between use of singular and plural pronouns. “I mailed in the proposal,” he writes about one article pitch. And then, a few minutes later, referring readers to his website: “I’ve posted a lot our successful magazine proposals there.”
A visit to Baum’s personal website illuminates this curiosity. According to the site, “everything that goes out under the byline ‘Dan Baum’ is at least half Margaret’s work.” Margaret is Baum’s wife, Margaret Knox, whom he met in 1986 while both journalists were working at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution...
...there is something troubling to me about the way Dan and Margaret go to pains to portray their working relationship as a partnership of equals…even though Margaret’s name appears nowhere on their work. In the workplace, editors also don’t get byline credit for the work they do, but they do appear on a publication’s masthead, and most importantly, they are paid for their efforts. Margaret Knox’s situation is totally different. Outside of the “Dan Baum” website, her work alongside her husband goes completely unacknowledged by readers. Indeed, the editors of the magazines for which Dan writes undoubtedly consider themselves the most important collaborators on his work, regardless of the labor Margaret puts into Dan’s drafts before he submits them. As an editor myself, I wouldn’t know what to make of a writer who came into the editing process regarding their spouse or significant other as an equal partner in negotiations over a piece. It seems deeply problematic from a professional standpoint.
On a related note, I once heard David Rawlings say that he plays in a two-person band named Gillian Welch.
Anudder update, 5-11: Sasha Frere-Jones on who is on Twitter.
One mo' time, 5-12: Only one way to illustrate the conclusion of Dan Baum's New Yorker saga:
To see why, go read. A sampling:
To me, listening to a man carp about making $90,000 a year by writing for The New Yorker is like listening to an NBA star carp about his measly $15 million contract. It’s unseemly. It’s infuriating. And it’s particularly maddening when that journalist is making his 90K by living among and reporting on folks who have just gone through a major collective tragedy, many of whom have lost everything they ever worked for. (What would’ve been sufficient recompense for Baum’s mandatory 576 words a week, I wonder? $150,000? $500,000? A 5-year contract? A 50-year contract?)
Well, now I'm hitting one of those stretches, only the place where I've been leaving supposed "gems" behind has been The Gambit's Blog of New Orleans. First it was the swine flu insanity. Currently, it is Nine Lives author Dan Baum's use of Twitter to tell the story of how he was fired from the staff of The New Yorker magazine. From Baum's reply to Kevin Allman's post:
Tweeting this story about my time at the New Yorker is a strange exercise, I’ll grant you that. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t realize the size of the tiger whose tail I was grabbing. I had 25 followers at lunchtime today and watching the number soar is a bit unnerving.
Mr Baum, from one veteran Tweeter Tube wrassler (3,984 tweets to date!) to you, a novice at the use of this medium, I will first tell you that trying to read through your story as it is - from the bottom up and in incomplete sentences - gave me quite a headache. Your tale so far is intriguing, but the format is infuriating.
Having said that, there are ways to turn the limitations of Twitter to your advantage. Consider your sentences and your usage of words much more carefully, and don't shy away from using abbreviations, as it can sometimes be the only way to get things across within a 140 character limit. You're using links to your proposals, which is great. Just keep it all tight so it makes sense without the dyslexic sensation for the readers.
Also, if you are doing this in order to answer the New Yorker questions everybody seems to have for you during interviews and q-&-a's on your book tour, use the interactivity of Twitter to keep the current tweets from having that one-sided conversational feeling. Reach out to your readers a little more, ask them where they might want this tale of yours to go and use it as a guide (possible case in point). Otherwise, take this well-written, highly disjointed story in the making and post it on your website in full.
As for what Baum's motive might be in starting on this Sisyphean endeavor, journalist Nancy Rommelman alerts readers of the Blog of New Orleans post of this post at Bloggasm concerning Baum's ironic use of tweets to tell his story about the business practices of a magazine that has printed "some of the longest articles in the industry." Baum essentially says, over on Bloggasm, that yes, he’s thinking it might sell some books, Rommelman says...and heeeeere's where the fine line between integrity and self-promotion starts to fray.
Motive is always tricky. Motive, when all is said and done, turns an action right back on the person performing it and, depending on the circumstances, can caress or kill.
Baum, again:
It’s a gimmick, yes, and I hope it sells books, sure. But it’s also galled me a bit, as a reporter, that the New Yorker pulls a veil of secrecy over itself to rival the NSA. I mean, it’s a very good magazine, but it’s just a magazine. And as I travel to talk about “Nine Lives,” people express a lot of interest in it. “How does it work over there?” “How do you break in?” “What’s the editing process like?” “Why’d you get fired?” The New Yorker is a national institution, and I have a journalist’s natural urge to inform the public about it.
Without giving too much away, my getting fired was in very large part my own fault, so it’s not a full-on dish by an aggrieved victim. And I hope people will see that I have a lot of good things to say about the place.
So, the motive, according to Baum, is to follow his journalistic impulses, that "natural urge". And that's a good urge, overall. That's an urge that led him to write a great book that hopefully will stand the test of time and stand apart from the unfortunate foot-in-mouth comments he made about the people of New Orleans in the promotion of said book.
What I still question, however, is the use of Twitter for this purpose, which is one hell of a place to try to straddle that fine line between integrity and self-promotion.
Personally, I smell another nonfiction book in all of this on the inner workings of The New Yorker from the perspective of someone who was once an insider of sorts....although there are most certainly even more fine lines to consider when the sad tale of one's firing is in book form, no matter what the circumstances.
Watch your six with this trick, Mr Baum.
Update, 5-9: Another aspect of the tweets that Dana Goldstein picked up on through the use of pronouns:
Reading his tweets, I felt compassion for a fellow magazine journalist, who is obviously heartbroken after being dumped by the magazine he loves. But I also noticed something else: In discussing his work, Baum alternates between use of singular and plural pronouns. “I mailed in the proposal,” he writes about one article pitch. And then, a few minutes later, referring readers to his website: “I’ve posted a lot our successful magazine proposals there.”
A visit to Baum’s personal website illuminates this curiosity. According to the site, “everything that goes out under the byline ‘Dan Baum’ is at least half Margaret’s work.” Margaret is Baum’s wife, Margaret Knox, whom he met in 1986 while both journalists were working at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution...
...there is something troubling to me about the way Dan and Margaret go to pains to portray their working relationship as a partnership of equals…even though Margaret’s name appears nowhere on their work. In the workplace, editors also don’t get byline credit for the work they do, but they do appear on a publication’s masthead, and most importantly, they are paid for their efforts. Margaret Knox’s situation is totally different. Outside of the “Dan Baum” website, her work alongside her husband goes completely unacknowledged by readers. Indeed, the editors of the magazines for which Dan writes undoubtedly consider themselves the most important collaborators on his work, regardless of the labor Margaret puts into Dan’s drafts before he submits them. As an editor myself, I wouldn’t know what to make of a writer who came into the editing process regarding their spouse or significant other as an equal partner in negotiations over a piece. It seems deeply problematic from a professional standpoint.
Maybe this rubs me the wrong way, in part, because I’m a journalist with a history of dating other journalists. Such relationships are often collaborative, and yet I can’t imagine subsuming my individual, professional identity to anyone else’s. There's also a hard truth reflected in the Baum-Knox relationship, as pointed out by my own wonderful editor, Ann Friedman: Many wives in dual-journalist couples assume the "editor" role because editing jobs often have better hours, are more stable and flexible, and allow women to take on the lion's share of child rearing responsibilities.
A comment on the Goldstein post:On a related note, I once heard David Rawlings say that he plays in a two-person band named Gillian Welch.
Anudder update, 5-11: Sasha Frere-Jones on who is on Twitter.
One mo' time, 5-12: Only one way to illustrate the conclusion of Dan Baum's New Yorker saga:
To see why, go read. A sampling:To me, listening to a man carp about making $90,000 a year by writing for The New Yorker is like listening to an NBA star carp about his measly $15 million contract. It’s unseemly. It’s infuriating. And it’s particularly maddening when that journalist is making his 90K by living among and reporting on folks who have just gone through a major collective tragedy, many of whom have lost everything they ever worked for. (What would’ve been sufficient recompense for Baum’s mandatory 576 words a week, I wonder? $150,000? $500,000? A 5-year contract? A 50-year contract?)
Thursday, May 07, 2009
End of Days
...no, wait, not THE end of days. Just the end of my son's exile from school due to the Hone None Flua.
...no, wait, not THE end of days. Just the end of my son's exile from school due to the Hone None Flua.
Much as I love the little guy, I also dearly love his teachers who are with him every weekday from 8 AM to 3-ish, 'cause they're the ones who have the teaching materials and the lesson plans. All I had was The Great Muppet Caper (we returned Jungle Book 2, thank God. Even the little guy was asking me when I was going to return it.), a pack of 8 1/2 x 11 paper that we colored on (well, I colored on) and folded into paper airplanes , and, yesterday, an open Children's Museum that he insisted on riding his bike to, which would have been fine except I knew that he wasn't that great on the bike yet so I couldn't ride one of ours to accompany him. At least he knows enough to stop at the street corners and wait for me. An unexpected snag in the whole operation was the fool bike throwing off its chain on the trip to the museum and on the trip back home. Nothing like struggling to get a dirty, greasy bike chain back on under the Pontchartrain Expressway, let me tell you. This time, I truly welcomed the trip to the pool after 4 PM.
I soaked in the pool while the kid did his jumping in and climbing out routine, with his only break coming during the lifeguards' 10 minute break. No wonder he didn't want to get up this morning.
Then again, he never wants to get up on school days. Perhaps if they pushed his school start time to 9:30 AM...wishful thinking, I know.
So today is the first day I've been able to actually check out my morning paper, and the first headline concerning Nagin's Greg Meffert-sponsored trip to Jamaica being "a blur" to him made me want to wring the Walking Id's neck. A trip to a tropical isle in first-class seats, even if I were completely freaked out by the events of 8-29-05, would be a godsend and something to remember for certain. I'd expect my son to say such a thing about our trip to New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island when he was two, because he was so young, I'm sure the week-long jaunt we took was a blur to him. The only thing the kid might be able to recall would be when we walked on the sea floor at the Hopewell Rocks, if anything.
Just saying...there's a reason why I call our mayor the Walking Id: his answers sometimes to queries are no better than the ones my single-digit aged son gives, and, though my little guy is getting more considerate of others as he gets older, there is still some strong inner id motivating some of the things he does. He's a kid, still. Vigilance and constant reinforcement of basic consideration for others in one's actions are still the keys there. From such reinforcement comes moments like the one at the museum yesterday, when the kid held the elevator door open and asked me to wait as our fellow elevator-mates, a mama with a kid in a stroller, exited the elevator first. I mean, wow.
Who maintained such vigilance over the actions of the schmo in the Mayor's Office? Certainly not the man's family. The flood-shocked public has consistently had its butt kicked by many other matters, sadly. Whatever other advisors he's surrounded himself with have simply helped feed whatever delusions he might still be harboring concerning his so-called "legacy", and if, by some insane stretch of the imagination, this man isn't crazy like a fox, but simply crazy, his crime might be at the most a misguided loyalty for these people who tell him what he wants to hear and send him to Hawaii and Jamaica to ease his blurred mind.
In any case, we do deserve better than this schmuck.
But, do we really believe that we deserve better?
'Cause if we do, that belief is gonna go a long way towards selecting someone next year who will actually serve this disgruntled, recovering public.
Update, 2:16 PM: The Gambit wants to know: what's your blur?
Anudder update, 5-11: For other reasons on why the Walking Id's blur is appalling in a public servant, go read.
I soaked in the pool while the kid did his jumping in and climbing out routine, with his only break coming during the lifeguards' 10 minute break. No wonder he didn't want to get up this morning.
Then again, he never wants to get up on school days. Perhaps if they pushed his school start time to 9:30 AM...wishful thinking, I know.
So today is the first day I've been able to actually check out my morning paper, and the first headline concerning Nagin's Greg Meffert-sponsored trip to Jamaica being "a blur" to him made me want to wring the Walking Id's neck. A trip to a tropical isle in first-class seats, even if I were completely freaked out by the events of 8-29-05, would be a godsend and something to remember for certain. I'd expect my son to say such a thing about our trip to New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island when he was two, because he was so young, I'm sure the week-long jaunt we took was a blur to him. The only thing the kid might be able to recall would be when we walked on the sea floor at the Hopewell Rocks, if anything.
Just saying...there's a reason why I call our mayor the Walking Id: his answers sometimes to queries are no better than the ones my single-digit aged son gives, and, though my little guy is getting more considerate of others as he gets older, there is still some strong inner id motivating some of the things he does. He's a kid, still. Vigilance and constant reinforcement of basic consideration for others in one's actions are still the keys there. From such reinforcement comes moments like the one at the museum yesterday, when the kid held the elevator door open and asked me to wait as our fellow elevator-mates, a mama with a kid in a stroller, exited the elevator first. I mean, wow.
Who maintained such vigilance over the actions of the schmo in the Mayor's Office? Certainly not the man's family. The flood-shocked public has consistently had its butt kicked by many other matters, sadly. Whatever other advisors he's surrounded himself with have simply helped feed whatever delusions he might still be harboring concerning his so-called "legacy", and if, by some insane stretch of the imagination, this man isn't crazy like a fox, but simply crazy, his crime might be at the most a misguided loyalty for these people who tell him what he wants to hear and send him to Hawaii and Jamaica to ease his blurred mind.
In any case, we do deserve better than this schmuck.
But, do we really believe that we deserve better?
'Cause if we do, that belief is gonna go a long way towards selecting someone next year who will actually serve this disgruntled, recovering public.
Update, 2:16 PM: The Gambit wants to know: what's your blur?
Anudder update, 5-11: For other reasons on why the Walking Id's blur is appalling in a public servant, go read.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Day Three
(Days One and Two, for reference)
This Note's For You
I forgot that the pool wasn't open until 4 PM. Silly me. We stayed at home counting down the hours until that time, when we could pull on the sandals, tool it on over to the pool, and commence the incessant jumping-in the little guy seems to love to do right now. If he could swim better, I'd sign him up for diving lessons, he's that enthralled with getting out and jumping in. Hey, the swim lessons come first.
We returned to our house to find our tenants on the front porch, one of them strumming a bass guitar. This inspired my son to run upstairs and retrieve the six-string acoustic he got for the holidays that he still can't play - yes, I'm in the market for guitar lessons for him as well. The talk got onto why the tenant's guitar had only four strings and why the strings were so thick and what's with the hole beneath the dials on the bass and why wasn't it plugged in and hey, which hand is your dominant hand? Speculation wandered over to other guitarists and musicians who were lefties and how they worked around the very right-handed world of guitars (Kurt Cobain restrung his Stratocaster and turned it upside-down to play it, as did many others like Hendrix. There are more lefty models of guitars being made, but it's just another thing that makes you realize what a righty-dominated world we live in), and somehow, we got on the subject of Neil Young at JazzFest.
Our bass man reported that friends of his said Young brought more equipment than he'd ever seen before at the Fest, and that the man's guitar was still out of tune, plus, the equipment was mostly junk. A thought popped into my head concerning the antiquity of the stuff.
"He might be saving it for projects like the train set he built that one of his sons who is stricken with severe cerebral palsy could operate. After all, it's got stuff like old vacuum cleaners as part of the scenery."
It's funny how many people know Young for his music, but have no inkling of how much he loves to tinker with toys large and small. Some more searching by me found this Lionel train set he designed. Only 500 of these have been made:Take a ride to Greendale and discover a place where the citizenry believe in personal rights, protection of the environment, and sanctuary from corporate greed. A place that has, as its motto says, “everything you’re looking for.”
Based on the popular “musical novel” by renowned recording artist and Lionel part-owner, Neil Young, the Greendale train set evokes some of the most powerful messages from the story. From the Millennium News Network (MNN) television car and BIG OIL tank car, to the Devil animated gondola and presidential election campaign observation car, the set tells the story of modern day issues that besiege all of us on a daily basis.
It certainly ain't your grandpa's train set. Hey, I don't even know if my dad would get much of a charge out of it, and he's clued into stuff like the misstep that is the Lionel "girl's set".
Well, one of the biggest projects Neil has embarked on as of yet in the tinkering department is the LincVolt, an attempt to take a '59 Lincoln Continental convertible and transform it into an electric car. The object in doing so:
Based on the popular “musical novel” by renowned recording artist and Lionel part-owner, Neil Young, the Greendale train set evokes some of the most powerful messages from the story. From the Millennium News Network (MNN) television car and BIG OIL tank car, to the Devil animated gondola and presidential election campaign observation car, the set tells the story of modern day issues that besiege all of us on a daily basis.
It certainly ain't your grandpa's train set. Hey, I don't even know if my dad would get much of a charge out of it, and he's clued into stuff like the misstep that is the Lionel "girl's set".Well, one of the biggest projects Neil has embarked on as of yet in the tinkering department is the LincVolt, an attempt to take a '59 Lincoln Continental convertible and transform it into an electric car. The object in doing so:
Values
We want to build a zero emissions automobile that eliminates roadside re-fueling entirely, a safe powerful automobile that is comfortable and economic on both long trips and the commute to work, an automobile that can generate power to the home when it is parked, potentially creating an income stream for the owner.
Methods
By working with established technologies in new ways, with the best people and companies available in each field, and creating a film about the innovative re-powering of a 1959 Lincoln Continental convertible and its trip around the USA, we aim to publicize our story of innovation to make a major difference in the knowledge of, creation, and use of clean power in the 21st Century. a 2.5 ton 19.5 foot automobile, making automotive history with an extended range and mpg that has never been attained in a full size vehicle.
Obstacles
Obstacles like resistance to change, the need for economic rebalance created by change, and the limitations of existing infrastructure will be met with education and proof of a clean power technology system that provides economic savings for the owner, helps to save the planet, and enhances the security of the world.
Measures
We will know we have succeeded when we have one or more major companies building automobiles that use our technology or something similar, creating 0 emissions, while saving money for the owner. We will also know we have succeeded when the world's power generating plants start using our clean technology or another clean technology that delivers comparable results.
We want to build a zero emissions automobile that eliminates roadside re-fueling entirely, a safe powerful automobile that is comfortable and economic on both long trips and the commute to work, an automobile that can generate power to the home when it is parked, potentially creating an income stream for the owner.
Methods
By working with established technologies in new ways, with the best people and companies available in each field, and creating a film about the innovative re-powering of a 1959 Lincoln Continental convertible and its trip around the USA, we aim to publicize our story of innovation to make a major difference in the knowledge of, creation, and use of clean power in the 21st Century. a 2.5 ton 19.5 foot automobile, making automotive history with an extended range and mpg that has never been attained in a full size vehicle.
Obstacles
Obstacles like resistance to change, the need for economic rebalance created by change, and the limitations of existing infrastructure will be met with education and proof of a clean power technology system that provides economic savings for the owner, helps to save the planet, and enhances the security of the world.
Measures
We will know we have succeeded when we have one or more major companies building automobiles that use our technology or something similar, creating 0 emissions, while saving money for the owner. We will also know we have succeeded when the world's power generating plants start using our clean technology or another clean technology that delivers comparable results.
Having checked out the LincVolt site, a video made of Young's "Johnny Magic" with him driving the thing (The way the video was shot, it's amazing the Lincoln didn't crash), and Neil Young as blogger: If the Big three cannot agree to make only cars that are fuel efficient enough to get at least 50 MPG by 2011, 75 MPG by 2013 and 100 MPG by 2015, then they should go into bankruptcy and fend for themselves like all the other businesses that are having trouble. The truth is this can be done and innovators know the way to do it. -I am now convinced that the man needs to replace our hapless Setback Czar come June 1st.
And I don't CARE how junky his sound system is. When he wants to lend an operational hand to making it state-of-the-art, he most certainly will.
Oh, and we're out of pickles. None of those for breakfast today.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Day Two
(see Day One)
"Nobody reads those. Do they?"
"Sure they do. They all have families."*
Weird things began to go through my head yesterday. Don't dress the little guy in t-shirts with his school's name on 'em. Don't take him out of the house after 2 pm, lest anyone suspect he's one of those kids from the afflicted school. Yes, thinking about that stuff probably says more about me than about anybody else in this town, but hey, I was at a gathering last Wednesday and the kid waiting in the food line ahead of me would alternate talking to me and hacking away on a bad, wet cough, and all I had in mind at the time was the flu panic the media is doing its best to foment.
So. Yesterday, largely due to the weather in the morning, we stayed home until about two in the afternoon. No venturing out to the swimming pool, even though the weather did clear up not long after we decided to venture out. Our one trip out was to the library, where I settled some fines and got some new movies for the little guy to watch, as The Sword In The Stone grated on me after the third time. So we got The Great Muppet Caper at the little guy's request and The Jungle Book 2, with Baloo voiced by John Goodman and Mowgli voiced by Haley Joel Osment.
"I think I'll read for a while. Uh, I wish I had a book."*
Well, you know you've been indoors for too long watching too many movies when games like the one I played popped into my head. After a small struggle with the bottle top of an Abita Strawberry Lager (they're no longer twist-offs...grrrrrr...), I watched the weird little straight-to-DVD flick that is The Jungle Book 2 and only found out who was voicing the main characters at the end. By then, a whopping headache was developing in my cranium, so I lay down on my bed once my husband came home and started thinking about all the Haley Joel Osment movies in the context of The Jungle Book 2.
Don't try this at home 'less you have a headache:
Today, the requested breakfast was Cheerios with pickles. There's a theme developing.
Plus, the weather's better for swimming. We're gonna sunscreen it and haul out to the pool before 2 PM for a change. Ha!
*The Great Muppet Caper
(see Day One)
"Nobody reads those. Do they?"
"Sure they do. They all have families."*
Weird things began to go through my head yesterday. Don't dress the little guy in t-shirts with his school's name on 'em. Don't take him out of the house after 2 pm, lest anyone suspect he's one of those kids from the afflicted school. Yes, thinking about that stuff probably says more about me than about anybody else in this town, but hey, I was at a gathering last Wednesday and the kid waiting in the food line ahead of me would alternate talking to me and hacking away on a bad, wet cough, and all I had in mind at the time was the flu panic the media is doing its best to foment.
So. Yesterday, largely due to the weather in the morning, we stayed home until about two in the afternoon. No venturing out to the swimming pool, even though the weather did clear up not long after we decided to venture out. Our one trip out was to the library, where I settled some fines and got some new movies for the little guy to watch, as The Sword In The Stone grated on me after the third time. So we got The Great Muppet Caper at the little guy's request and The Jungle Book 2, with Baloo voiced by John Goodman and Mowgli voiced by Haley Joel Osment.
"I think I'll read for a while. Uh, I wish I had a book."*
Well, you know you've been indoors for too long watching too many movies when games like the one I played popped into my head. After a small struggle with the bottle top of an Abita Strawberry Lager (they're no longer twist-offs...grrrrrr...), I watched the weird little straight-to-DVD flick that is The Jungle Book 2 and only found out who was voicing the main characters at the end. By then, a whopping headache was developing in my cranium, so I lay down on my bed once my husband came home and started thinking about all the Haley Joel Osment movies in the context of The Jungle Book 2.
Don't try this at home 'less you have a headache:
Mowgli: If I'm gonna live here, there's gonna be some conditions.
Baloo: conditions?
Mowgli: No more dangerous stuff. No more floating down the rivers. No dancing with monkeys. More vegetables, less bananas squirted out of their peels.
After I find Shere Khan then I can go home. Mommy will love a real boy. Shere Khan will make me into one.
I see jungle animals. Walking around like regular people. They don't see each other. They only see what they want to see. They don't know they're not supposed to talk.
Are you saying you'll flunk us if we don't look for the bare necessities?
Baloo: conditions?
Mowgli: No more dangerous stuff. No more floating down the rivers. No dancing with monkeys. More vegetables, less bananas squirted out of their peels.
After I find Shere Khan then I can go home. Mommy will love a real boy. Shere Khan will make me into one.
I see jungle animals. Walking around like regular people. They don't see each other. They only see what they want to see. They don't know they're not supposed to talk.
Are you saying you'll flunk us if we don't look for the bare necessities?
I wouldn't wish the headache I had on anybody. Really, I wouldn't.
Today, the requested breakfast was Cheerios with pickles. There's a theme developing.
Plus, the weather's better for swimming. We're gonna sunscreen it and haul out to the pool before 2 PM for a change. Ha!
*The Great Muppet Caper
Monday, May 04, 2009
Day One of the Hone None Flua exile:
Crawfish blues
Yes, this is an actual blue crawfish.
Fitting that this is a rainy day on which to begin our three-day exile. No hoo-ha from parents on the CDC's 14-day disinfectant guidelines not being fully enacted in the closing of the little guy's school - seems the CDC and the governor have decided three days is enough because the afflicted child wasn't in school for very long once he/she developed symptoms.
So. We're here. Can't go swimming due to the weather. The Sword In The Stone is rockin' the DVD player. Pancakes with pickles has been the breakfast order of the day.
Nothing to it but to make the most of it. We aren't victims, after all.
Pickled pancakes, comin' up.
Yes, this is an actual blue crawfish.Fitting that this is a rainy day on which to begin our three-day exile. No hoo-ha from parents on the CDC's 14-day disinfectant guidelines not being fully enacted in the closing of the little guy's school - seems the CDC and the governor have decided three days is enough because the afflicted child wasn't in school for very long once he/she developed symptoms.
So. We're here. Can't go swimming due to the weather. The Sword In The Stone is rockin' the DVD player. Pancakes with pickles has been the breakfast order of the day.
Nothing to it but to make the most of it. We aren't victims, after all.
Pickled pancakes, comin' up.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
A little something I saw in The Best American Comics 2007 that I just fell in love with is Dan Zettwoch's Won't Be Licked!: The Great '37 Flood In Louisville. Click on the image to enlarge the excerpt below:
Louisville is still there despite it all. And so are we. Good to get a reminder of that every so often.
Louisville is still there despite it all. And so are we. Good to get a reminder of that every so often.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Let's hear it for whatever-the-heck-this-H1N1-strain-of-flu is called:
Instead of all the little old ladies talking about how "Dottie had a heart condition and she died, but not before giving it to ______", put on the Tom Lehrer. Then we can all celebrate National Brotherhood Week once they have all decided on a name for the damn virus that won't offend anybody here on Earth.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sit down with some jello flu shots 'cause the damn flu was just mentioned on the national news about a bazillion times and drown away the pain I feel from the buckmoth caterpillar sting I got on my heel at the park. Somebody find a cure for the %!*&/?! caterpillar barbs while they're at it.
Anudder update, 5-3: Well, seems the suspected case of Hone None Flua is an actual case. School’s doors are closing for three days. I now have some Abita Strawberry Ale to go with my jello flu shots as I await the fuss that will be made as to why school hasn’t been closed for two weeks so’s the classrooms can be fully disinfected.
Instead of all the little old ladies talking about how "Dottie had a heart condition and she died, but not before giving it to ______", put on the Tom Lehrer. Then we can all celebrate National Brotherhood Week once they have all decided on a name for the damn virus that won't offend anybody here on Earth.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sit down with some jello flu shots 'cause the damn flu was just mentioned on the national news about a bazillion times and drown away the pain I feel from the buckmoth caterpillar sting I got on my heel at the park. Somebody find a cure for the %!*&/?! caterpillar barbs while they're at it.
Update, 11:36 PM - Via email:
Pass me a pigfoot and a bottle of beer, y'all. And I don't care about its political or dietary correctness.Late this evening, the school was notified by the Louisiana Department of Health and Hospitals Office of Public Health, that one of the eight suspected cases of Swine Flu in Louisiana is a student at (my son's) School. This is NOT a confirmed case of Swine Flu, and thus there are no recommendations to close the school, but out of an abundance of caution, we are notifying parents of this development.
Anudder update, 5-3: Well, seems the suspected case of Hone None Flua is an actual case. School’s doors are closing for three days. I now have some Abita Strawberry Ale to go with my jello flu shots as I await the fuss that will be made as to why school hasn’t been closed for two weeks so’s the classrooms can be fully disinfected.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
from Jerry W. Ward's The Katrina Papers: A Journal of Trauma and Recovery:
One of the odd legacies of Katrina is excessive interest in everything and in thinking that all events in the world (including the antics of the rich and vulgar) are interrelated.
E's words from yesterday. An excerpt:
It is a curse. In contrast, memory is the blessing. Memory pertains to the already accomplished, to the future that has a past tense. One does not have to search for yet another folder in the mind in which to store new information and trivia.
So when Dambala asks about the "eerie calmness" that has settled over the NOLA blogpocheh, I must reply to recent events with some more of Ward's words:
I have not exploited this "interest" as fully as I might have under different conditions, because problems with disappearing identity, feelings of isolation, anger, depression and unpredictable moments of deep anxiety, panic and weird physical sensations have priority. One feels condemned to motion on a Moebius strip where progress is ultimately a return to a starting point. Contradiction assumes more significance in one's daily life, and curiosity - well, curiosity kills cats and prompts writers to pay attention. Give attention to details that people less hooked on languages are free to ignore.
We're into our fourth year of post-8-29-05 insanity. Cracks in our everyday armor are still going to appear when we least expect it.
Hell, if we didn't have all the myriad festivals in our calendars down here, we would probably implode. Amazing to think that all that keeps many of us from going postal is some live music and beer, but there you go.
We'll be back on our horses soon enough.
One of the odd legacies of Katrina is excessive interest in everything and in thinking that all events in the world (including the antics of the rich and vulgar) are interrelated.
E's words from yesterday. An excerpt:
...let's take the stimulus bill.Back to Professor Ward's "all events in the world are interconnected":
When you really distill down what has happened, you basically had a bunch of ultra-conservative Southern governors and senators screaming bloody murder because the Obama Administration was giving them money that they could use to improve institutions, infrastructure, and services. While conservatives of course would argue that improved institutions, infrastructure, and services represent larger more intrusive government, the reality is that these are the poorest and least developed states in the country with huge populations of impoverished residents and minorities saddled with the most institutionally dysfunctional justice systems in the industrialized world.
When viewed using this lens, the resurgence of the extremist rump of the GOP has absolutely nothing to do with an ideological opposition to government spending, pork, or the national debt. Instead, it is more indicative of a long-standing ideological refusal by wealthy Southern elites to do anything at all that might address the really messed up dynamics of race and class that are still disproportionately omnipresent throughout the old Confederacy compared to other regions of the country.
The attitude exemplified by Yglesias and Silver reaction to Perry's ridiculous secessionist rhetoric wasn't about bolstering an ongoing meme about how Southern politicians were working against the interests of their own constituents and how to help the residents on the ground that are fighting for reform from within.
Instead, it was about how obstructionist these politicians are and how best to usher their states clean out of the union.
That anything resembling secession would spell doom for the huge population already bearing the disproportionate negative impact of being born in the wrong region of the country didn't seem to cross their minds.
Rather than discussing how the mechanics of secession might work to the Democrats' advantage, I think it would be much more helpful to the majority of people from Texas, the rest of the old Confederacy, and to the nation at-large if progressives instead concentrated on how best to enact policies that will improve conditions in the nation's most at-risk communities and how best to organize for grassroots progressive reform from within.
The whole pervasive good riddance attitude is something that people in the South have become really sensitive to, consciously or not, and it alienates many that otherwise would really benefit from and support progressive public policy.
It is a curse. In contrast, memory is the blessing. Memory pertains to the already accomplished, to the future that has a past tense. One does not have to search for yet another folder in the mind in which to store new information and trivia.
So when Dambala asks about the "eerie calmness" that has settled over the NOLA blogpocheh, I must reply to recent events with some more of Ward's words:
I have not exploited this "interest" as fully as I might have under different conditions, because problems with disappearing identity, feelings of isolation, anger, depression and unpredictable moments of deep anxiety, panic and weird physical sensations have priority. One feels condemned to motion on a Moebius strip where progress is ultimately a return to a starting point. Contradiction assumes more significance in one's daily life, and curiosity - well, curiosity kills cats and prompts writers to pay attention. Give attention to details that people less hooked on languages are free to ignore.
We're into our fourth year of post-8-29-05 insanity. Cracks in our everyday armor are still going to appear when we least expect it.
Hell, if we didn't have all the myriad festivals in our calendars down here, we would probably implode. Amazing to think that all that keeps many of us from going postal is some live music and beer, but there you go.
We'll be back on our horses soon enough.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Got this in the email this morning:
Hornets lose by 58. Did I do that?
Sad, sad day indeed. I mean...WOW.
Hi, liprap (liprap).
Swine Flu (SwineFlu4u) is now following your updates
on Twitter.
Check out Swine Flu's profile here:
http://twitter.com/SwineFlu4u
You may follow Swine Flu as well by clicking on
the "follow" button.
Best,
TwitterForget the fact that I'm afraid to follow it....My favorite tweet from it:Hornets lose by 58. Did I do that?
Sad, sad day indeed. I mean...WOW.
Monday, April 27, 2009
I passed by the students in the next oldest class, saying "Excuse me, folks," as I nudged by.
A few minutes later, their teacher told me one of her students objected to what I said.
"Huh?" I wondered. "All I said was, 'Excuse me, folks'."
"Well, this kid said, 'I'm not a folk! Why'd she call me a folk?' " the teacher replied with a grin.
That short conversation came to mind when I took a look at the Louisiana Folklife exhibits, artists, and demonstrations this past Sunday.
Why is the word "folk" so loaded, so full of connotations hinting at the "Other" that is not white, male, and Christian, that is something less than cosmopolitan, something, well, "folksy"? And why is a kid who hasn't even reached double-digits in years raising a mild fuss over it?
I'm not sure about the answer to the latter question, but as for the former, unless somebody has found a way to market "folk" ways ( i.e., "folk art", "folk tales", that sort of thing), "folk" has come to mean something more than just "family" or "people". In the places that consider themselves more civilized, the meaning of "folk" has been dragged down a little in somewhat undeserved ways: "folk" hints at a subset of society that is backward and ignorant, or is holding back progress and innovation in some way. It's pretty unfair when one considers the following craftspeople and their crafts:
And if anybody questions shoes as art, I give you Ferragamos, Manolo Blahniks, I. Magnins, and many, many other brands for others to put an individual stamp on or to drool over.
So if something is "folksy", don't knock it. Look at it, at the least, as an outlet for those making it. Check out its beauty. Marvel at the steady hands of the people crafting it. Recognize that you could use some of it in your life, whether you are making it, viewing it, or collecting it.
Hell, something in it in these parts most likely keeps us from following through with secession from the rest of the Forty-Nine.
"Secede? In these shoes? No way, Jose!"
Update, 9:42 PM: Then again, pull on the right boots and who knows? One of these days the boots might well walk all over you. Watch out, America.
A few minutes later, their teacher told me one of her students objected to what I said.
"Huh?" I wondered. "All I said was, 'Excuse me, folks'."
"Well, this kid said, 'I'm not a folk! Why'd she call me a folk?' " the teacher replied with a grin.
That short conversation came to mind when I took a look at the Louisiana Folklife exhibits, artists, and demonstrations this past Sunday.
Why is the word "folk" so loaded, so full of connotations hinting at the "Other" that is not white, male, and Christian, that is something less than cosmopolitan, something, well, "folksy"? And why is a kid who hasn't even reached double-digits in years raising a mild fuss over it?
I'm not sure about the answer to the latter question, but as for the former, unless somebody has found a way to market "folk" ways ( i.e., "folk art", "folk tales", that sort of thing), "folk" has come to mean something more than just "family" or "people". In the places that consider themselves more civilized, the meaning of "folk" has been dragged down a little in somewhat undeserved ways: "folk" hints at a subset of society that is backward and ignorant, or is holding back progress and innovation in some way. It's pretty unfair when one considers the following craftspeople and their crafts:
And if anybody questions shoes as art, I give you Ferragamos, Manolo Blahniks, I. Magnins, and many, many other brands for others to put an individual stamp on or to drool over.So if something is "folksy", don't knock it. Look at it, at the least, as an outlet for those making it. Check out its beauty. Marvel at the steady hands of the people crafting it. Recognize that you could use some of it in your life, whether you are making it, viewing it, or collecting it.
Hell, something in it in these parts most likely keeps us from following through with secession from the rest of the Forty-Nine.
"Secede? In these shoes? No way, Jose!"
Update, 9:42 PM: Then again, pull on the right boots and who knows? One of these days the boots might well walk all over you. Watch out, America.
More thoughts coming from me on this year's JazzFest experience.
'Til then, via Twitter, I give you this link and this list:
'Til then, via Twitter, I give you this link and this list:
Top 10 Reasons to Criminalize Homeschooling
In an effort to increase the public drumbeat for criminalizing
homeschooling, a memo has been distributed containing the top 10
reasons why public schooling is better than homeschooling. Here is an
excerpt from that memo:
1. Most parents were educated in the under funded-public school system,
and so are not smart enough to homeschool their own children.
2. Children who receive one-on-one homeschooling will learn more than
others, giving them an unfair advantage in the marketplace. This is
undemocratic.
3. How can children learn to defend themselves unless they have to fight
off bullies on a daily basis?
4. Ridicule from other children is important to the socialization process.
5. Children in public schools can get more practice “Just Saying No” to
drugs, cigarettes and alcohol.
6. Fluorescent lighting may have significant health benefits.
7. Publicly asking permission to go to the bathroom teaches young people
their place in society.
8. The fashion industry depends upon the peer pressure that only public
schools can generate.
9. Public schools foster cultural literacy, passing on important
traditions like the singing of “Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin
laid an egg…”
10. Homeschooled children may not learn important office career skills,
like how to sit still for six hours straight
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