We Are All Rush Limbaugh…Unless

When any of us remain silent as people like Rush Limbaugh vent hatred and hypocrisy and are paid to do it by manufacturers whose products we may buy then we are doubly complicit in the evil that may follow. If it were just this one revolting example we might be forgiven for not acting, but sadly his voice is only one of a large choir of misogynistic, homophobic and, dare I say, deranged men and a few women. Yes, there is free speech, and we should use it to counter these dark and foul voices. The pathetic and inadequate ‘apologies’ from Boehner and others should echo loudly later this year. Call your congressman, call your senator, your pastor, call anyone and ask, “What are you going to do about this?”

We are all Rush Limbaugh…unless.

Downton Mania & Thomas Paine

I do not share the current mania for Downton Abbey. Wonderfully produced and acted it yet remains as much an upper class soap opera as its predecessor, Upstairs Downstairs. And further for me it represents the world of unearned privilege into which my parents were born. A twisted and deplorable world of class distinction and snobbery only exceeded in evil effects by the Indian caste system. It took the lives of many and another World War to consign it to the work of playwrights and documentarians.

Sadly for America that world shows signs of ressurection here in the so called Land of the Free. The wealth of this country is held by an increasingly small number of families. The similarities between late 19th Century and early 20th Century Europe and America now are plain to see. Neither political party seem ready to change this state of affairs. The G.O.P. in particular seems to care less than nothing for the fate of the average person. They sink ever lower in my opinion, which was terribly low in the first place.

So much for Thomas Paine?

Embedded Poetry

Ben Motal is the webmaster behind my partner Anne-Louise’s web-site. Today he showed me how to embed a video into a wordpress page; not just a link! So here I am reading one of my poems; My Personal Fruit Fly…

Insulting the Pacific

In what appears to be a seasonal rite the Pacific Ocean once again is responding to insults hurled at its salty and bountiful self in the previous months by folk who annually forget that the Pacific has a long and vengeful memory. The Pacific takes its revenge on all of us unilaterally without regard for the relative or complete innocence of some who must suffer with the guilty. It is easy for the Pacific to hurl small parts of its volume into Oregon at any interval and any velocity it prefers, to flood, harass and generally disrupt the smooth flow of life. To which insults irresponsibly delivered by which individual we shall never know. Perhaps we should blame TV meteorologists, whose daft, hyperbolic and fearful response to a two millimeter change in barometric pressure five hundred miles to the west of our coast may have caught the attention of our neighboring giant.  Or, perhaps those noisy and rude young men in their F-Whatever fighter planes roaring up and down the coastline at and above the speed of sound before returning for lunch at the Air National Guard base at Portland Airport should be more careful. But more likely it is ourselves in our daily groans and gripes, our poorly educated response to nature and the reality of our slender tenure on this land, our arrogance and assumptions that we control anything that might just irritate the ocean upon which we utterly depend for our lives.

So we should take care to regulate our impudence. We should take care not to enrage our ocean any more than is necessary for life to survive in the Pacific NW.  We should take its angry aqueous caress in our stride, on a glistening metaphorical chin, less we become as unlucky as an earlier civilization that once flourished far to the south of us. A civilization that did not take heed, insulted its ocean daily, fervently, and perforce paid the price of becoming the minuscule population of a once fertile land, now called the Atacama Desert. Yes, finally the ocean returned the accumulated insults completely, and ignored that land entirely and forever, and yet laps its coast mockingly.

Best a Capella Female Ensemble in Portland, Plus Me!

I am reading the poetry and stories that intersect the songs in this January’s performance by ViVoce, the a capella women’s ensemble of the Portland Revels. I love this group and really enjoy reading for them.

Best a Capella Voices in Portland

Parking Is Dangerous

Here is a little piece I wrote about two or three years ago on the chances we take in crowded parking lots.

Parking is Dangerous!

It was in the warm afterglow of a workshop I had just given on the marketing and selling of artwork my wife and the organizers had been chatting about how gentle NW pacific folk were compared to those lost souls forced to pace the grubby sidewalks of eastern cities. And this generous benign ambience followed us all the way to the Fred Meyer parking lot on Interstate Ave.There is a Panda express there and we planned to get a quick lunch and continue on our way.

How soon we were forced to reappraise our geographic sociological conclusions? Real soon!

It turns out that Saturday lunchtime at the Freddie’s on Interstate is a bit of a zoo parking wise and so tends to test that gentle nature we had so recently been praising. We had cruised around looking for the spot that we knew would open up. A few minutes of this suggested that I let my wife out at the Panda Express and I would circle like a fruit fly searching for the best spot on a rotting banana.

And lo, way up at the end of the aisle a car was backing out. I eased carefully up to the zone, but left plenty of room for a sloppy withdrawal. And sure enough I scooted into that precious asphalt yardage with the warm glow one feels upon receiving a completely unearned blessing.

I knew something was amiss as soon as I heard a rapid tap tap on my window. Sure enough I had usurped, gazumped, seized, stolen, bagged, hijacked someone else’s presumed spot! At least someone else’s spot under a set of rules that I do not altogether understand.

Noting that the lady who stood fuming at my window was not holding a gun or any other weapon and was probably half my weight, I rolled it down and was met with the full force of her invective. “You ass hole!” were amongst her eloquent opening lines. “I watched that guy walk all the way from the door to his car, and waited for this spot!” She continued at high volume. “I am sorry”, I said, “I did not see you”. “You did, I was waving at you!” “I am sorry” I repeated, “I really did not see you”. “You must have, you are an ass hole!” At this she turned and went back to her vehicle a monster late model silver Pontiac or Dodge SUV.

At this moment I was thinking, well, even if I did snatch the spot for which she may have waited should I give it to someone whose first instinct was to call me an asshole? If someone had approached me assuming that I would do the right thing and asked me politely to do so, then I probably would have apologized, backed out, waved them in, and found another spot for myself.

It was then that I recalled the cozy conversation I had enjoyed barely thirty minutes before. Was I experiencing the real personality of a NW Pacific citizen, or the deformed behavior of an unhealed out of state transplant? Or was I witnessing the erosion of manners under the weight of our failing economy and national model? I made a pardonable mistake, but was instantly judged without defense and found guilty.

If you were the driver that I upset, I want you to know that I was genuinely sorry to have made you that way, and I ask you to think about how things could have turned out so much better for each of us if you had chosen different words.

Heron and Hawk

In the pale radiation that passed for sunlight that day I was walking across the lumpy field behind the DPW toward the Willamette River and a Blue Heron crossed my path on it’s way downriver. In almost the same moment a Hawk took flight from a tree behind me and screeched a warning as it spiraled directly over me. I felt a primitive urge to cry out to them and ask what would be next?

Another Quarter Million Miles for Celina Blue Subaru

In the small section of good news today I am able to announce that Celina our 1995 Blue Subaru Legacy Station Wagon that we bought in 1997 with 54,000 miles on the clock, has now traveled 250,000 miles. She did this on November 7th at 2 PM just west of Sandy, Oregon on Route 26.

Celina's Binnacle at 0.25 Million

There have been some repair landmarks along the way, her upholstery is getting threadbare and some interesting lumps have appeared in the drivers seat, but none so devastating or expensive as to prompt us to be rid of our dear Celina Blue Subaru. I could rabbit on about the significant moments our family has enjoyed or endured in the grey cloth interior but will not. I will, however, mention that although Celina was almost certainly designed by Japanese engineers in Tokyo she was assembled in Lafayette, Indiana, by union workers.

And we are not presently thinking over cashing her in for another newer vehicle. Despite a cranky entry into third gear from second and a marked decline in punch; like me; I think we will push onwards with Celina for a while.

Celina Blue Subaru at 250,000

For Thanksgiving, Lassagna di Cavolini di Bruxelles

Thanksgiving approaches and we will be forced to eat that least appealing of fowls, The Turkey. Boring and soporific; The Turkey. Accompanied by bland and over sweetened vegetables and followed by another foul (sic) dish, the Pumpkin Pie. For me, the meal is a gustatory disaster.

To the rescue comes the Brussels Sprout. The Brussels Sprout. Sulfurous, underestimated, less well-loved but amazingly nutritious, offends many by tasting too much. It refuses to be bland, and thereby gain the admiration of milquetoast diners everywhere. Nevertheless it won’t go away. Personally I like mine straight. Boiled in bouillon with salt and pepper. But for the masses here is just one recipe that is sure to please:-

Lassagna di Cavolini di Bruxelles

Prepare sprouts by removing loose leaves and cutting in half
Parboil for five minutes in chicken stock
Microwave some bacon until limp only
In a Lasagna dish layer the parboiled sprouts with the bacon and good mozzarella
Bake 20 minutes in the oven at 400Deg. Note: Times vary depending on the type of bacon and mozzarella used, and the depth of the dish.
Sprinkle the top with a layer of freshly shaved Parmesan cheese
Bake a further 5 minutes until browned

 Variation include:- 

• the addition of a few cloves, or thyme, or nutmeg
• thinly sliced mushrooms placed on the top before the Parmesan is sprinkled
• instead of layering, the sprouts and bacon go alongside each other and are covered with a blanket of mozzarella
• the addition of small slivers of garlic next to the bacon

Small servings of this are typical amongst medically sensitive and health conscious folk. But on a feast day and when faced with Turkey and Pumpkin, I say gorge yourself.

Boarding Time

The NY Times today published an article about the efforts
airlines are making to get planes boarded in less time.

Certainly boarding a plane is one of the most stressful
parts of an already fraught experience. You have already gotten up at a
ridiculous hour, driven in lousy traffic to the airport, lined up for parking,
lined up for the shuttle bus, lined up for check in, lined up to be scanned and
groped (to no purpose, we know) lined up for overpriced coffee, and now let’s
all line up again to get on the wretched flying cattle truck.

One of the most obvious things about this moment in mass
transport is the lack of clear and timely information. The confused folk
milling around the gate do not know what they are expected to do. The gate
crews are forced to use the really old fashioned and ineffective loudspeaker
system to announce what is going on, with predicable results. “What did she
say?” is the most common overheard phrase, followed by “Who is boarding now?”

The attempts by some airlines to use display
screens to show who is actually boarding now and who is next have been next to
useless because one would have to stand within six feet of the tiny screens and
on someone’s shoulders to actually read and understand the messages.

The solution is to have large, easily legible
screens that have genuine and instant information. Add the audible
announcements using a speaker system that really works and you may have a more
efficient gate control procedure.

Quite a few airports around the country have spent millions
of dollars upgrading their parking lots, their concourses, their shopping
malls, their bathrooms, everything but the feature that would increase
efficiency, wider and double jetways.
Sure they are expensive, but so were all the other features that do
nothing for efficiency. Of course it would not matter how many jetways could be
latched onto a jetliner it won’t reduce the number of occasions when the ground
crew seem taken aback by our arrival. You were expecting us, right? Or did our Captain
forget to call ahead?

Once on the plane the problem is of course the daft design
of these aerial aluminium anxiety chambers. These machines are not designed for
people. They are designed for airline profit. Without going into the hideously
uncomfortable seats, and the toilets meant for midget contortionists, I will
point out that the aisles are far too narrow, and far too long. What chumps
decided that you only need one aisle and one boarding door for a plane as long
as a Boeing 767? Not even the buses in India have this dopey layout. The
overhead bins are not too small, but people’s idea of a carryon is a
revelation. Just enforce the size rule. Why is that so hard?

The solutions are easily identified. The passengers will end
up paying for them. How can this be done whilst increasing the salaries and bonuses
of the top executives of the company is the only thing that will actually get
discussed.