Grapes of Wrath Pt. II (The Pinot Noir Edition)
"Jim. Hey Jim, over here."
"Who's that? Why...why...why I'll be damned. If it ain't Tom. Tom, how 'ere ya'?"
"Ok, I guess. What are you doing out here Jim? Shouldn't you be in church, it being a Sunday and all."
"Nah, I ain't a preacher no more. Nope. I don't need no saviour no more. Ain't got no use for one no how. How 'bout you Tom. Are you...you know, out? You didn't do run away, did ya'?"
"Nah, I didn't run. They paroled me early. Gave me twenty dollars and a bus ticket and sent me back home. Say Jim, you seen my ma and pa? The house looks kind of deserted."
"They're over at the neighbors I reckon. Anyways, this ain't their house no more. Bank took it last week."
"The Bank? What fer?"
"Same reason they took all these houses 'round here. No jobs, no money, no way to pay the mortgage. It's the same all over California."
"Well if that don't beat all."
"It's the heat that done it. Turned the whole state into a desert."
"Sure feels like a desert alright. Look Jim, I'm gonna go over to the neighbors. It's been a long time since I saw ma and pa. You wanna come with me?"
"Alright. Sure. But just remember I ain't no preacher no more. Ok?"
"Don't make no difference to me. Seems kind of funny though, seein' how you was always preaching at us when we was little kids. But suit yourself."
(Tom and Jim walk to the neighbors and catch up with Tom's family)
"Hi Ma."
"Ma? Who's that calling me...Tom? Is that you? Oh Tom. I can't hardly believe it. Is that really you?"
"It's me alright. Great to see ya' Ma. Let's have a look at ya'."
"But what are you doin' here Tom? Shouldn't you be in...? Oh, you didn't run away did you? You promised me you wasn't gonna do that."
"No Ma, they let me out early. You see, I got the papers right here. They give me a parole and twenty dollars, just 'cause I never gave 'em no trouble."
"A parole? Oh Tom...I've got to tell Pa. Pa, come out here. Come look who's here. Pa, where are ya?"
(Tom's father comes out of the house)
"I'm right here. What are you yellin' about?"
"Look who's here."
"Henry Fonda?"
"No, it's Tom. Don't you even recognize your own son."
"Tom, but I thought you was in...When did you get out?"
(Tom turns to talk to his father)
"Couple of days ago. I went to the house but all I found was the preacher."
"I told you I ain't no preacher."
"What happened to the house Pa?"
"Bank took it. That note we signed, you know the one I told you about. That 40 year adjustable reverse amortization interest only prepayment penalty balloon mortgage we used to buy the house. Well, seems the interest rate went up and the bank told me I had to come up with 2 million dollars or they'd foreclose. "
"2 million dollars for a $400,000 house? That don't seem right."
"We'd a been ok if the interest rates hadn't gone up. But where were we gonna come up with 2 million dollars? What with this 10 year heat wave we've been havin' and no electricity on account of all the power plants bein' broken, and no jobs on account of there ain't no electricity. This whole state is just turnin' into one big dustbowl, Tom. That's all it is. Just a big bowl of dust. I told the man we didn't have the money and so he come back a few months later with a piece of paper saying the house was his now and told us we had to vacate the premises."
(Pa's neighbor Muley walks up and joins the conversation)
"Piece of paper? Piece of paper? It ain't a piece of paper that make it your'n. It's eatin' in it, and spillin' food on the carpet in it, and watchin' TV in your underwear in it that makes it your'n, and not no piece of paper."
(Muley walks away, having had his dramatic moment. Pa turns to Ma and speaks)
"Well, if you ain't got the paper then it ain't yours. That's what the law says anyways. Ain't that right Ma?"
"Don't worry Pa. We'll find some other place to live. What about them flyer's that feller was handin' out?"
(Tom interrupts)
"What flyers?"
"Show him Pa."
"Here Tom, take a look. It says that up in Canada there's plenty of work."
"Canada? But ain't it kind of cold up there?"
"No, not since the global warming. It's all different now. This feller with the flyers said that up around Hudson's Bay it's all beach resorts and condominiums. Says there's plenty of work building houses and hotels and shopping malls. What'd he call it Ma? Oh, that's right. Called it the new Riviera."
"Well gee Pa, how ya' gonna get up to Canada."
"We'll buy a car and drive, I guess. You know can buy them old SUV's real cheap now that gas is up around $50 a gallon."
"Well how much would one of them SUV's cost?"
"There's a feller in town selling his ol' Lincoln Navigator for fifteen bucks. Reckon we oughta be able to come up with 15 bucks, don't ya' think?"
"They gave me 20 dollars when they paroled me out of jail. I guess we could use that. But what are we gonna do for gas?"
"Just have to sell off our things along the way. Besides, we still got our credit cards. They can take our house but by God no one's gonna take our credit cards. Ain't that right Ma?"
"That's right Pa. We're Californians Tom, don't you ever forget that."
(So the family piles into the SUV and heads north up to Canada. Just outside of Calgary they stop into a fillin' station)
"Where you folks headed? You ain't headed up to Hudson's Bay I hope."
"Well yeah, that's what we was plannin' on. Gonna get jobs."
"Uh-huh. Got one of 'em flyers too, I'll bet."
"You mean like this one right here?"
"Yeah, that's the one. Heh, I must've seen a million of those by now. Look folks, you look like nice people. Do yourselves a favor and go home. There ain't no work up in Hudson's Bay. They been handin' out them flyers all over California just so could they could drive down the wages. You know, find someone desparate enough to do the work for less than the other fella' is making. Believe me, you'd be better off if you just went home."
"Whaddya mean there ain't no work? The feller told us..."
"I know what he told ya' and I'm tellin' ya' there ain't no work. Go back home, before you get hurt."
"Can't go home. Ain't got no home to go back to."
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
(The family continues on to Hudson's Bay. Soon the road is crowded with broken down SUV's, all with California plates. Outside the towns angry mobs carrying clubs and waving signs tell them to keep moving or else. Finally they find a work camp just outside of Churchill)
"You folk's looking for work."
"Yeah."
"How many of you are there?"
"Five of us, if you count my ma and my sister. My sister's pregnant though, so she can't do any heavy lifting."
"There's a construction site about ten miles from up the road. Pay is 15 cents an hour. Be ready to go at 5:00 am sharp or we'll give your spots to someone else."
"Fifteen cents an hour? Why, a fella can't even live on that."
"Take it or leave it. 5:00 am sharp, you hear."
"Yeah, we hear ya'. Geez Ma. Fifteen cents an hour. That won't even pay the rent on the cabin."
"Don't worry Tom. We'll take this job for now until something better turns up. It'll be ok, you'll see."
"I hope you're right. We come an awful long way for fifteen cents an hour."
(Later that night Tom hears footsteps. He steps outside and sees deputies armed with billy clubs walking through the camp)
"Can I help you officer?"
"Who are you?"
"Name's Tom. "
"Tom huh. You one of those troublemakers we been hearing aboat? "
"No, I ain't making no trouble. I'm just here to work that's all."
"What're you doing outside your cabin Tom?"
"Thought I'd stretch my legs a little before I turn in, that's all. Is there a problem?"
"Yeah, Tom. You're a problem. You and all these other Californians. Who invited you up here anyways?"
"No one invited us. We just thought that..."
"You just thought what? That you could come up here and cause trouble? C'mon boys, let's take him in."
"Hey wait a minute. I ain't done nuthin' to..."
(Tom feels something crack across his skull. At the taste of his own blood he flies into a rage and kills one of the deputies. In the confusion that follows he slips off into the night. Later he makes his way back to his cabin where Ma is waiting for him)
"What happened Tom? What'd they do to you?"
"They tried to take me to jail, Ma, but I wouldn't go."
"What'd you do? Something terrible I'm guessin'."
"I had no choice. They was gonna arrest me so I..."
"Shhh, Tom. I know you wouldn't have done it 'cepting you had no choice. What are we gonna do now?"
"We gotta get out of here. Right now. They're searching the entire camp."
"Ok, I'll wake everyone up and tell 'em we're leaving. But Tom, don't you say a word 'bout what happened tonight. Ok?"
"Sure Ma, I won't say anything."
(They hide Tom in the SUV and make for the front gate. They tell the guard they've found jobs at another work camp and the guard, although skeptical, let's them pass. Further down they road they come upon a government camp. It is well-kept and clean and the family gets their own cabin. Behind the camp walls the police can't touch them and soon they get good jobs for good wages and have even managed to put a little money aside for the future. The family feels like real people again. One night, however, vigilantes from a nearby town who are angry about immigrants stealing their jobs begin marching on the camp. Tom runs into one of the vigilantes under a bridge and kills him. He sneaks back to the camp and says one last farewell to his Ma)
"I gotta go now Ma."
"But where, Tom. Where are you gonna go? You know they're out there looking for you."
"Let 'em find me, I ain't afraid. Besides, I never gave no one no trouble less'n they give it to me first. You know that Ma."
"I know Tom, but I'm worried about you. Where'll you go, what'll you do?"
"I'll go someplace where people are treated like people, not like dogs. Where a man can live decent. Where he can sit in his hot tub and sip his chardonnay and it's nobody's business if he does."
"Like we did back in California. We was people then, wasn't we? Before the global warmin' came that is."
"Yeah, we had stock options and home equity back then, but now we're nothin'."
"But Tom, how will I know what's happened to you. Won't I ever see you again?"
"You'll see me, Ma. Everytime you see a man so swollen with thirst that he can't open his lips to drink his frappucino, I'll be there. Everytime you see a man so bankrupt that he can't afford the electricty to charge his Ipod, I'll be there. Everytime you see someone so destitute that he can't even afford to cruise to the beach in his SUV, ..."
"While talking on his cellphone?"
"Yeah ma, while a talking on his cellphone, I'll be there. I'll be there 'cause I'm the people. Maybe Jim was right. A person ain't got a soul of his own, only a piece of a bigger one."
"I'm worried about you Tom."
"Don't worry Ma. I'll be alright. Don't worry about a thing."
(Tom leaves and his mother begins to weep. Pa comes out and stands beside her)
"I miss the ol' place Ma. I miss California and my barbecue and my big screen TV. Don't you miss them things too?"
"No Pa, I think I like it fine right here. I think I'm gonna like Hudson's Bay. Rose of Sharon's gonna have her baby and we'll get a new start up here where the air and the water is clean and it ain't 105 degrees inside the house everyday. Yep. I think I'm gonna like it here just fine."
(And so they leave their California home behind, settle in the promised land, and live like people. The End)
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Joy, Fun, Seasons in the (blistering) Sun
Keeping in mind songwriter Steve Goodman's admonition that "It ain't hard to live with somebody else's troubles", let me just say that it's been hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, HOT around here. Yeah, I know nobody cares and besides, it's been hot everywhere this summer, but this is my blog and I'll whine about the weather if I want to.
Truth is, when it's this crazy hot all you can think about is the heat. War, famine, economic collapse -- geez, those things can wait. Right now all I care about is a cool breeze. Unfortunately it's been about 2 weeks since we've had one of those, and the way I see it at this point only one of two things is going to happen. Either this heat wave is going to break or the sun is going to run out of hydrogen, and since this heat wave seems intent on staying put I'm placing my money on the sun.
So how hot is it I hear the blogosphere asking. Well, today we finally got a bit of a cooldown here in San Jose as the temperature dropped below the triple digits, that's how hot it is. Of course people are talking about global warming and I don't know if that has anything to do with it. I always thought global warming was about the glaciers melting and sea levels rising and all that sort of thing. I don't recall them mentioning that the famous Bay Area fog bank was going to go away or that California was going to become Arizona. And you know what? When you get right down to it I don't want to live in Phoenix, and I resent not having a say in the matter. But that's what's happened. Looks like Mohammad wouldn't go to the mountain so the mountain...well, you know the rest.
Anyways, what else is going on. Let's see. Seems Israel and Lebannon...aw forget about it. It's too hot to blog. On the weather report last night they showed satellite photos of a big bank of fog just sitting there off the coast of California and poised for an inland push that would bring cool relief to the millions of sweltering but appreciative Bay Areans. And there it is, all that fog, just SITTING THERE! NOT MOVING!!! It's cruel, like showing a glass of water to thirsty man and then dangling it just outside his reach. Not even nature can be that cruel, can it? No, of course not. The fog should get here before too long and even tonight, as I sit outside and tap away on my computer, I can feel just the faintest hint of breeze push over my arms and along the back of my neck. Oh, if only I could fall asleep and wake to a cold fog streaming through the Golden Gate, putting a nasty chill into my bones.
(sigh)
Maybe by this weekend. Until then we bake, and if this is that global warming thing that everyone is talking about then I just wish that Al Gore or whoever is responsible would stop it. I got to get some sleep, man.
Oh, and about all this stuff happening in the Middle East. I think what we need to do to get this situation solved is send over Sharron Angle. Who's she? ? Well, she's running for Congress over in Nevada and I happened to catch one of her TV ads when I was up at Lake Tahoe. It wasn't really much of an ad until the very end where she promised that if elected she will "Stop the terrorists." Yeah, that's her campaign promise. She even put it up on the screen so everyone could see it. Elect Sharron Angle and she'll stop the terrorists.
Whew. I'm glad that problem's solved.
Keeping in mind songwriter Steve Goodman's admonition that "It ain't hard to live with somebody else's troubles", let me just say that it's been hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, HOT around here. Yeah, I know nobody cares and besides, it's been hot everywhere this summer, but this is my blog and I'll whine about the weather if I want to.
Truth is, when it's this crazy hot all you can think about is the heat. War, famine, economic collapse -- geez, those things can wait. Right now all I care about is a cool breeze. Unfortunately it's been about 2 weeks since we've had one of those, and the way I see it at this point only one of two things is going to happen. Either this heat wave is going to break or the sun is going to run out of hydrogen, and since this heat wave seems intent on staying put I'm placing my money on the sun.
So how hot is it I hear the blogosphere asking. Well, today we finally got a bit of a cooldown here in San Jose as the temperature dropped below the triple digits, that's how hot it is. Of course people are talking about global warming and I don't know if that has anything to do with it. I always thought global warming was about the glaciers melting and sea levels rising and all that sort of thing. I don't recall them mentioning that the famous Bay Area fog bank was going to go away or that California was going to become Arizona. And you know what? When you get right down to it I don't want to live in Phoenix, and I resent not having a say in the matter. But that's what's happened. Looks like Mohammad wouldn't go to the mountain so the mountain...well, you know the rest.
Anyways, what else is going on. Let's see. Seems Israel and Lebannon...aw forget about it. It's too hot to blog. On the weather report last night they showed satellite photos of a big bank of fog just sitting there off the coast of California and poised for an inland push that would bring cool relief to the millions of sweltering but appreciative Bay Areans. And there it is, all that fog, just SITTING THERE! NOT MOVING!!! It's cruel, like showing a glass of water to thirsty man and then dangling it just outside his reach. Not even nature can be that cruel, can it? No, of course not. The fog should get here before too long and even tonight, as I sit outside and tap away on my computer, I can feel just the faintest hint of breeze push over my arms and along the back of my neck. Oh, if only I could fall asleep and wake to a cold fog streaming through the Golden Gate, putting a nasty chill into my bones.
(sigh)
Maybe by this weekend. Until then we bake, and if this is that global warming thing that everyone is talking about then I just wish that Al Gore or whoever is responsible would stop it. I got to get some sleep, man.
Oh, and about all this stuff happening in the Middle East. I think what we need to do to get this situation solved is send over Sharron Angle. Who's she? ? Well, she's running for Congress over in Nevada and I happened to catch one of her TV ads when I was up at Lake Tahoe. It wasn't really much of an ad until the very end where she promised that if elected she will "Stop the terrorists." Yeah, that's her campaign promise. She even put it up on the screen so everyone could see it. Elect Sharron Angle and she'll stop the terrorists.
Whew. I'm glad that problem's solved.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Dead Cat Searches the Want Ads
"Good afternoon."
"Hello. Uh, good afternoon."
"May I help you?"
"Yes. I'd like to be a terrorist."
"A what?"
"A terrorist. I heard you were looking for new recruits and I'd like to be a terrorist."
"I think maybe you have the wrong office."
"No, no. This is the place. A friend told me to come here."
"And this friend. He is CIA?"
"No. Not at all"
"I think maybe you are CIA?"
"No. Honest. I want to be a terrorist."
"MI-6?"
"Are you looking for terrorists or not? Because if you aren't I'm sure there's someone else down the street who'll want me."
"We are a highly secretive organization. Do you think we can't just let anyone walk in off the street and become a terrorist? Surely you can understand?"
"I want to wear high explosives and blow myself up."
"Yes, yes, of course you do. I understand, believe me. (sigh) Ok, I don't believe you are not CIA. And you are eager. Maybe I can be of some help. You say you want to be a terrorist. What are your qualifications? Do you have any references or prior experience?"
"References? No one told me I'd need references."
"Well, would you characterize yourself as ruthless? Sadistic? Brutally indifferent?"
"I don't know. I..."
"Intolerant? Fanatical? A slave to ideology?"
"I...uh...I..."
"Do you like to read Ann Coulter?"
"Why no."
"Too bad. Perhaps you are not the right type of person to be a terrorist."
"But..."
"Why do you want to be a terrorist anyways? What is your motivation?"
"To bring death to the infidels?"
"Yes, yes, but besides that. Why do you come here today? Is it power you seek?"
"No. I don't think so. "
"Is it fame? Your picture on TV?"
"No. Well, yeah, sure, that would be nice. I guess..."
"Is it martyrdom? Is that what you're after?"
"Yeah, that's it. Martyrdom. I want to be a martyr, you know."
"What do you know about martyrdom? Tell me."
"Well, it's like my friend was telling me. You blow yourself up and you get to be like a hero. And everyone praises you, and..."
"Yes."
"Well, my friend said that you get to sleep with 70 virgins."
"Uh-huh. The virgins. I thought so."
"Is it true? Do they really let you sleep with 70 virgins if you, you know, become a martyr."
"Well, not exactly. If you die a martyr then God will give you 70 virgins and 70 wives and everlasting happiness."
"You mean in heaven?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Oh, my friend didn't tell me that. You mean you gotta die first before they let you sleep with the virgins?"
"What did you think? You must die a martyr and then God will give you 70 virgins and everlasting happiness."
"Well that's a bunch of crap. Isn't there anyway I can sleep with the 70 virgins before I blow myself up?"
"No. How is this possible?"
"A loan, maybe. You know, like sleep with the virgins now and pay later. Can you do that? Can you get the virgins on credit?"
"You must die a martyr and then you will get the virgins. That is how it is written, that is how it must be."
"I see. Well that kind of puts a damper on things. So tell me. How can I be sure I'll get the virgins once I'm a martyred? I mean, is there a guarantee? Can I have it in writing?"
"It is God's word. That is enough."
"Yeah, right, well that's that I guess. How about this? Can I sleep with one virgin before I blow myself up? Just to see if I like it. "
"No. To do such a thing would be a sin against God. The Imam forbids it. We would have to cut off your head if such a thing were to happen."
"Alright, alright. Doesn't hurt to ask."
"A martyr's rewards will come to him. It is God's word."
"Ok, let's say I do decide to become a terrorist. What then?"
"We will train you and tie a bomb around your belly and send you somplace to blow yourself up."
"Like where. Where will you send me?"
"I don't know. London, Paris, America perhaps."
"America?"
"Yes, America."
"Ok, now I know you're BS'ing me. "
"What are you talking about?"
"You're going to send me to America, to be a martyr, so I can sleep with 70 virgins. Dude, where are you going to find 70 virgins in America?"
"The virgins will be in heaven, you stupid...Look, maybe you wouldn't make such a good terrorist after all. Please don't take offense but perhaps this is not a job for someone like you. "
"You got that right. I admit it sounded like fun at first, but geez, you didn't tell me I'd have to find 70 American virgins. Man, by the time I do that I'll be to old to be a terrorist. Listen, whatever you're name is, let me ask you something. What are you trying to accomplish with all these suicide attacks anyways?"
"Accomplish? Hah. Don't you see? The people tremble in terror and fear our wrath. The world will have to answer to our holy cause or suffer the consequences."
"Funny thing about that. See, I don't think the world is trembling in terror. I think right now the world is drinking a beer and watching football. Sure, you make the evening news but after the news is over the world just keeps getting fatter and richer while you hide out in bunkers and safe houses scared to death that someone's going to recognize you and drop a bomb on you. Seems to me like you're the ones living in fear, not them."
"This is jihad. We will not rest until the world gives us justice and surrenders to us all it's wealth and power."
"And you seriously think that's going to happen."
"Even if it takes one thousand years."
"And in the meantime you're just gonna keep blowing yourselves up."
"Yes, this is a holy cause."
"So is peace. So are mercy, tolerance and forgiveness."
"You do not understand. Please, do me a favor."
"Yes?"
"Read Ann Coulter."
"Good afternoon."
"Hello. Uh, good afternoon."
"May I help you?"
"Yes. I'd like to be a terrorist."
"A what?"
"A terrorist. I heard you were looking for new recruits and I'd like to be a terrorist."
"I think maybe you have the wrong office."
"No, no. This is the place. A friend told me to come here."
"And this friend. He is CIA?"
"No. Not at all"
"I think maybe you are CIA?"
"No. Honest. I want to be a terrorist."
"MI-6?"
"Are you looking for terrorists or not? Because if you aren't I'm sure there's someone else down the street who'll want me."
"We are a highly secretive organization. Do you think we can't just let anyone walk in off the street and become a terrorist? Surely you can understand?"
"I want to wear high explosives and blow myself up."
"Yes, yes, of course you do. I understand, believe me. (sigh) Ok, I don't believe you are not CIA. And you are eager. Maybe I can be of some help. You say you want to be a terrorist. What are your qualifications? Do you have any references or prior experience?"
"References? No one told me I'd need references."
"Well, would you characterize yourself as ruthless? Sadistic? Brutally indifferent?"
"I don't know. I..."
"Intolerant? Fanatical? A slave to ideology?"
"I...uh...I..."
"Do you like to read Ann Coulter?"
"Why no."
"Too bad. Perhaps you are not the right type of person to be a terrorist."
"But..."
"Why do you want to be a terrorist anyways? What is your motivation?"
"To bring death to the infidels?"
"Yes, yes, but besides that. Why do you come here today? Is it power you seek?"
"No. I don't think so. "
"Is it fame? Your picture on TV?"
"No. Well, yeah, sure, that would be nice. I guess..."
"Is it martyrdom? Is that what you're after?"
"Yeah, that's it. Martyrdom. I want to be a martyr, you know."
"What do you know about martyrdom? Tell me."
"Well, it's like my friend was telling me. You blow yourself up and you get to be like a hero. And everyone praises you, and..."
"Yes."
"Well, my friend said that you get to sleep with 70 virgins."
"Uh-huh. The virgins. I thought so."
"Is it true? Do they really let you sleep with 70 virgins if you, you know, become a martyr."
"Well, not exactly. If you die a martyr then God will give you 70 virgins and 70 wives and everlasting happiness."
"You mean in heaven?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Oh, my friend didn't tell me that. You mean you gotta die first before they let you sleep with the virgins?"
"What did you think? You must die a martyr and then God will give you 70 virgins and everlasting happiness."
"Well that's a bunch of crap. Isn't there anyway I can sleep with the 70 virgins before I blow myself up?"
"No. How is this possible?"
"A loan, maybe. You know, like sleep with the virgins now and pay later. Can you do that? Can you get the virgins on credit?"
"You must die a martyr and then you will get the virgins. That is how it is written, that is how it must be."
"I see. Well that kind of puts a damper on things. So tell me. How can I be sure I'll get the virgins once I'm a martyred? I mean, is there a guarantee? Can I have it in writing?"
"It is God's word. That is enough."
"Yeah, right, well that's that I guess. How about this? Can I sleep with one virgin before I blow myself up? Just to see if I like it. "
"No. To do such a thing would be a sin against God. The Imam forbids it. We would have to cut off your head if such a thing were to happen."
"Alright, alright. Doesn't hurt to ask."
"A martyr's rewards will come to him. It is God's word."
"Ok, let's say I do decide to become a terrorist. What then?"
"We will train you and tie a bomb around your belly and send you somplace to blow yourself up."
"Like where. Where will you send me?"
"I don't know. London, Paris, America perhaps."
"America?"
"Yes, America."
"Ok, now I know you're BS'ing me. "
"What are you talking about?"
"You're going to send me to America, to be a martyr, so I can sleep with 70 virgins. Dude, where are you going to find 70 virgins in America?"
"The virgins will be in heaven, you stupid...Look, maybe you wouldn't make such a good terrorist after all. Please don't take offense but perhaps this is not a job for someone like you. "
"You got that right. I admit it sounded like fun at first, but geez, you didn't tell me I'd have to find 70 American virgins. Man, by the time I do that I'll be to old to be a terrorist. Listen, whatever you're name is, let me ask you something. What are you trying to accomplish with all these suicide attacks anyways?"
"Accomplish? Hah. Don't you see? The people tremble in terror and fear our wrath. The world will have to answer to our holy cause or suffer the consequences."
"Funny thing about that. See, I don't think the world is trembling in terror. I think right now the world is drinking a beer and watching football. Sure, you make the evening news but after the news is over the world just keeps getting fatter and richer while you hide out in bunkers and safe houses scared to death that someone's going to recognize you and drop a bomb on you. Seems to me like you're the ones living in fear, not them."
"This is jihad. We will not rest until the world gives us justice and surrenders to us all it's wealth and power."
"And you seriously think that's going to happen."
"Even if it takes one thousand years."
"And in the meantime you're just gonna keep blowing yourselves up."
"Yes, this is a holy cause."
"So is peace. So are mercy, tolerance and forgiveness."
"You do not understand. Please, do me a favor."
"Yes?"
"Read Ann Coulter."
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
I Love You California
Greetings from California, where once again it's an election year and the governor is on the comeback trail. As you might recall this blog pronounced Arnold's candidacy "dead in the water" a few months back, but as so often happens circumstances have changed and the Governator is lengthing his lead in the polls and it appears I may have been a bit premature in my judgement. So what's behind this remarkable change?
Well the governor did manage to get a budget passed reasonably close to the deadline. He also named Susan Kennedy, a leading democrat in the state, to be his new Chief of Staff. He's given some speeches on the environment and proposed some pro-environmental legislation. He's found money for the schools, and colleges, and state parks, etc... He's made nice with the unions, shaken some hands, kissed a few babies and generally stopped frightening the pants off of the state's middle-of-the-road voters. The Democrats still don't like him, of course, and more than a few Republicans are beginning to wonder where his loyalties lay, but all in all most average folk who don't have a particular bone to pick are beginning to cut him a little slack. However, that said, if I had to point to one thing, one single factor that could account for Arnold's recent surge in the polls it would be this:
Phil "the Pill" Angelides.
Yep. You gotta love those Democrats, and on behalf of the governor I'd personally like to thank them for making this excellent choice. Not that Phil "the Pill" can't win, mind you. Arnold is a wounded politician in this state. Even so you've gotta be more than a little awed and amazed that the Democrats still managed to select probably the only politician in the entire state of California who could lose to him. Let's face it guys, Phil Angelides is to charisma what Dick Cheney is to sensitivity and warmth.
As if that weren't enough, Angelides further enhanced his chances of victory by announcing that if elected he will raise between $5 billion and $10 billion in new taxes. This only confirmed the belief already engrained in many voters minds that the Democrats never met any problem that the government couldn't solve by taking a bigger percentage of their paychecks. Combine that with the impression of Angelides standing at the podium surrounded by the state's most powerful union leaders, their hands outstretched and and their mouths speaking the words to which Angelides moved his lips, and you complete the picture of the big spending, big government Democrat.
Sensing trouble, the dems recently flew in Hilary Rodham Clinton to inject a little energy into the Angelides campaign. That was quite a scene too - maybe you saw it. An animated Rodham Clinton exhorting the troops while Phil "the Pill" stood there looking like he was waiting for a bus. I could only imagine what must have been going through the governator's mind as he watched it. "Yes! I own this guy! Ha, ha, ha."
But, like I said, Arnold doesn't have this thing wrapped up quite yet. We Californians must never forget the man's uncanny ability to walk in the sun in newly shined oxfords and step right into a pile of fresh dog poo. It's only July and there are still 4 more months for Arnold to say something stupid and send his poll numbers sinking into the gutter.
Stay tuned folks. It's gonna be a long, hot summer.
Greetings from California, where once again it's an election year and the governor is on the comeback trail. As you might recall this blog pronounced Arnold's candidacy "dead in the water" a few months back, but as so often happens circumstances have changed and the Governator is lengthing his lead in the polls and it appears I may have been a bit premature in my judgement. So what's behind this remarkable change?
Well the governor did manage to get a budget passed reasonably close to the deadline. He also named Susan Kennedy, a leading democrat in the state, to be his new Chief of Staff. He's given some speeches on the environment and proposed some pro-environmental legislation. He's found money for the schools, and colleges, and state parks, etc... He's made nice with the unions, shaken some hands, kissed a few babies and generally stopped frightening the pants off of the state's middle-of-the-road voters. The Democrats still don't like him, of course, and more than a few Republicans are beginning to wonder where his loyalties lay, but all in all most average folk who don't have a particular bone to pick are beginning to cut him a little slack. However, that said, if I had to point to one thing, one single factor that could account for Arnold's recent surge in the polls it would be this:
Phil "the Pill" Angelides.
Yep. You gotta love those Democrats, and on behalf of the governor I'd personally like to thank them for making this excellent choice. Not that Phil "the Pill" can't win, mind you. Arnold is a wounded politician in this state. Even so you've gotta be more than a little awed and amazed that the Democrats still managed to select probably the only politician in the entire state of California who could lose to him. Let's face it guys, Phil Angelides is to charisma what Dick Cheney is to sensitivity and warmth.
As if that weren't enough, Angelides further enhanced his chances of victory by announcing that if elected he will raise between $5 billion and $10 billion in new taxes. This only confirmed the belief already engrained in many voters minds that the Democrats never met any problem that the government couldn't solve by taking a bigger percentage of their paychecks. Combine that with the impression of Angelides standing at the podium surrounded by the state's most powerful union leaders, their hands outstretched and and their mouths speaking the words to which Angelides moved his lips, and you complete the picture of the big spending, big government Democrat.
Sensing trouble, the dems recently flew in Hilary Rodham Clinton to inject a little energy into the Angelides campaign. That was quite a scene too - maybe you saw it. An animated Rodham Clinton exhorting the troops while Phil "the Pill" stood there looking like he was waiting for a bus. I could only imagine what must have been going through the governator's mind as he watched it. "Yes! I own this guy! Ha, ha, ha."
But, like I said, Arnold doesn't have this thing wrapped up quite yet. We Californians must never forget the man's uncanny ability to walk in the sun in newly shined oxfords and step right into a pile of fresh dog poo. It's only July and there are still 4 more months for Arnold to say something stupid and send his poll numbers sinking into the gutter.
Stay tuned folks. It's gonna be a long, hot summer.
Monday, July 10, 2006
A Blank Page, An Empty Mind, and This is What You Get
Greetings again from California, where the big news this week is a big wad of high pressure that has parked itself over the Great Basin and is now smothering the state under a blanket of hot, dusty, smoggy, smelly air. That's not a big deal if you live in L.A. or the Central Valley or anyplace where people have had the foresight and good sense to equip themselves with air conditioning, but here in the Bay Area where we forego artifical air conditioning and count instead on cool banks of Pacific fog to roll in each night and bring us relief, things have been pretty miserable. Particularly here in the South Bay where natural air currents push the noxious fumes produced up north into the bowl of the Santa Clara Valley, collecting themselves into a thick, smoggy goo.
Which brings me to this one, somewhat related question. Why is it , I ask, that out of all the people on the local newscast, only the weatherperson is allowed to hedge and lie? The reporters and anchors aren't allowed to lie. They can't get up there and say that a building's on fire or the mayor held a news conference without at least some pictures to back them up. The sports person can't get up there and say the score was around 7 to 5 or that the A's might be in first place. They've got have the numbers. They've got to know the score. But the weatherperson...
The weatherperson can get up there and lie through his or her teeth and no one says anything about it. And they do it all the time.
"The temperature today in San Jose was 95 degrees."
Bull! I don't know what thermometer he's looking at but mine is reading closer to 101.
"Expect highs in the low 90's".
Are you kidding me? It was already 80 degrees when I walked out of the house this morning. Are you talking 90 degrees Fahrenheit or Celsius?
These weatherpeople, I tell ya'. They give these five day forecasts like they're wizards or sorcerers or something, and then they can't even get the temperatures right. And everybody just plays along like that's the way it's supposed to be. "Don't blame me, I'm only the messenger", they say. "I just report the weather, I don't make it." Oh yeah, well I think you're lying. How do I know you don't make the weather? I mean, I just have to take your word for it, don't I? For all I know this whole weather thing could be part of big conspiracy. Part of the War on Terror or something. First they're telling you that Iraq has all these WMD's, and then they're telling you they can't do anything about the weather. Hmmph, that's what I say.
Whatever happened to the good ol' days? Remember that? Remember when you could trust the weather report? Remember way back when the weatherperson used to stand up next to a big piece of plexiglass or something like that and draw the weather for the audience with a big grease pen. Remember that? They used to draw those funny looking lines with little pennants hanging from 'em and tell you all about the high pressure and the low pressure, and even though you couldn't make heads or tails of any of it and all the little strings of flags looked more like something you'd see at a used car lot than the weather, the weatherperson had more credibility back then. He seemed so scientific, and you just knew that he had to go to college in order to understand all those squiggly lines and pennants.
Now days, of course, everything is different. Computer graphics have arrived in the newsroom and now we get to look at satellite photos and radar images and cute little pictures that highly paid weather professionals working on $10,000 computer workstations spend countless billable hours putting together. Let's see, there's that picture of the cloud with all the little drops of rain falling down. That means it's going to rain. And there's that cute one of the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. That means partly cloudy. Oh, and there's that bright orange and red picture of the sun with the word "HOT" drawn in big yellow letters that means that it's gonna be another scorcher tomorrow. I guess it's an improvement over the squiggly lines. It's clearer anyways, but do you think they've gone too far? Do they really need to talk to us like we're a bunch of kindergartners? Personally, I'd rather get my weather from some whacko weather scientist than from Captain Kangaroo. "Hey Mr. Green Jeans, c'mon over here and tell the kids what's on tap for their holiday weekend."
Oh, I'm just kidding. We love our weatherpeople, but I do have one more question. We all know that when you fill a balloon with hot air the balloon becomes lighter and it rises. So how come when the air in the atmosphere heats up it sinks into heavy high pressure ridges? You know what I'm saying. Hot air in a balloon rises, but in a high pressure area the air gets hot and sinks. Doesn't that seem backwards?
Hah! Didn't think of that did you Mr. Weatherperson.
Greetings again from California, where the big news this week is a big wad of high pressure that has parked itself over the Great Basin and is now smothering the state under a blanket of hot, dusty, smoggy, smelly air. That's not a big deal if you live in L.A. or the Central Valley or anyplace where people have had the foresight and good sense to equip themselves with air conditioning, but here in the Bay Area where we forego artifical air conditioning and count instead on cool banks of Pacific fog to roll in each night and bring us relief, things have been pretty miserable. Particularly here in the South Bay where natural air currents push the noxious fumes produced up north into the bowl of the Santa Clara Valley, collecting themselves into a thick, smoggy goo.
Which brings me to this one, somewhat related question. Why is it , I ask, that out of all the people on the local newscast, only the weatherperson is allowed to hedge and lie? The reporters and anchors aren't allowed to lie. They can't get up there and say that a building's on fire or the mayor held a news conference without at least some pictures to back them up. The sports person can't get up there and say the score was around 7 to 5 or that the A's might be in first place. They've got have the numbers. They've got to know the score. But the weatherperson...
The weatherperson can get up there and lie through his or her teeth and no one says anything about it. And they do it all the time.
"The temperature today in San Jose was 95 degrees."
Bull! I don't know what thermometer he's looking at but mine is reading closer to 101.
"Expect highs in the low 90's".
Are you kidding me? It was already 80 degrees when I walked out of the house this morning. Are you talking 90 degrees Fahrenheit or Celsius?
These weatherpeople, I tell ya'. They give these five day forecasts like they're wizards or sorcerers or something, and then they can't even get the temperatures right. And everybody just plays along like that's the way it's supposed to be. "Don't blame me, I'm only the messenger", they say. "I just report the weather, I don't make it." Oh yeah, well I think you're lying. How do I know you don't make the weather? I mean, I just have to take your word for it, don't I? For all I know this whole weather thing could be part of big conspiracy. Part of the War on Terror or something. First they're telling you that Iraq has all these WMD's, and then they're telling you they can't do anything about the weather. Hmmph, that's what I say.
Whatever happened to the good ol' days? Remember that? Remember when you could trust the weather report? Remember way back when the weatherperson used to stand up next to a big piece of plexiglass or something like that and draw the weather for the audience with a big grease pen. Remember that? They used to draw those funny looking lines with little pennants hanging from 'em and tell you all about the high pressure and the low pressure, and even though you couldn't make heads or tails of any of it and all the little strings of flags looked more like something you'd see at a used car lot than the weather, the weatherperson had more credibility back then. He seemed so scientific, and you just knew that he had to go to college in order to understand all those squiggly lines and pennants.
Now days, of course, everything is different. Computer graphics have arrived in the newsroom and now we get to look at satellite photos and radar images and cute little pictures that highly paid weather professionals working on $10,000 computer workstations spend countless billable hours putting together. Let's see, there's that picture of the cloud with all the little drops of rain falling down. That means it's going to rain. And there's that cute one of the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. That means partly cloudy. Oh, and there's that bright orange and red picture of the sun with the word "HOT" drawn in big yellow letters that means that it's gonna be another scorcher tomorrow. I guess it's an improvement over the squiggly lines. It's clearer anyways, but do you think they've gone too far? Do they really need to talk to us like we're a bunch of kindergartners? Personally, I'd rather get my weather from some whacko weather scientist than from Captain Kangaroo. "Hey Mr. Green Jeans, c'mon over here and tell the kids what's on tap for their holiday weekend."
Oh, I'm just kidding. We love our weatherpeople, but I do have one more question. We all know that when you fill a balloon with hot air the balloon becomes lighter and it rises. So how come when the air in the atmosphere heats up it sinks into heavy high pressure ridges? You know what I'm saying. Hot air in a balloon rises, but in a high pressure area the air gets hot and sinks. Doesn't that seem backwards?
Hah! Didn't think of that did you Mr. Weatherperson.
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