Everything counts in large amounts.

Much is being said about the specific failings of the Republican candidate for Vice President. However what's really at issue is not the parentage of her alleged offspring, or the offspring of her offspring, or her documented abuses of power (which pale in comparison to the abuses wrought by the Bush administration).

And it's not her lack of experience; recent history has seen many dubiously qualified Vice Presidents and Vice Presidential nominees.

No, the real issue is the sheer, unmitigated hypocrisy being revealed in this nation's governing elite. And while the traditional media continues to be unable to effectively process and expose this hypocrisy, that doesn't stop America's most capable, most talented political commentator:

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Sarah Palin Gender Card
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Reform

Unfortunately I can only legitimately get that clip in a non-standards-based (though admittedly common) format, so if you're reading this on an iPhone or iPod touch, let me break it down for you:

• On 29 August 2008, Karl Rove cited Sarah Palin's experience as mayor of a town of about 9,000 souls and governor of a state with a population of less than 700,000 as strong examples of her executive experience and by extension her ability to be Vice President.


• However on 10 August 2008, Karl Rove dismissed possible Democratic VP candidate Tim Kaine as not being capable to possibly lead this nation since he's merely the governor of Virginia (population 7.6 million) and former mayor of the town of Richmond (population 200,000).


• On 2 September 2008, sycophantic TV commentator Bill O'Reilly said that the pregnancy of Sarah Palin's 17-year-old unmarried daughter should be a "personal matter" and shouldn't be part of political commentary.


• However on 19 December 2007, Bill O'Reilly indignantly cited the pregnancy of 16-year-old unmarried Jamie Lynn Spears as primarily the fault of "the parents of the girl, who obviously have little control over her." He went on to call them "pinheads."


• On 2 September 2008, Republican operative Dick Morris said a male candidate would never have to endure the, at that point, 72 hours of scrutiny that Palin had faced, saying it was indicative of the "deep sexism that runs through our society."


• However on 5 November 2007, Dick Morris was talking about Hillary Clinton's campaign when he said "when a woman wants to be President, she shouldn't complain based on gender." He went on to say that Clinton continuously "retreats behind the apron strings" whenever she faces scrutiny of her policies and positions.


• On 5 November 2007, McCain advisor Nancy Pfotenhauer said that people who think they're helping Clinton by playing "this gender card" were in fact hurting her, and that it would be "a terrible mistake for her [Clinton] to try to play this victimology or victimization card because it's just not what we want in a President."


• However on 3 September 2008, Pfotenhauer marched dutifully in front of the TV cameras to say that the nature of the commentary about Palin and her family was "disrespectful to her as a woman," that she was concerned the media should know better than to "belittle the accomplishments of women," and that questions about Palin's ability to balance one of the world's most intense jobs with the needs of her young children to be "one of the most outrageous double standards" she'd ever seen.


• And finally, in March 2008, Republican VP candidate Sarah Palin said of Hillary Clinton: "when I hear a statement like that, coming from a woman candidate, with any kind of perceived whine about that excess criticism or maybe a sharper microscope put on her, I think, man, that doesn't do us any good. ... I mean, work harder, prove yourself to an even greater degree that you're capable, that your going to be the best candidate."

And these people wonder why so much of the nation has turned against them. As Andrew Sullivan posted today:

They are a religious and cultural identity party, primed to rally to anything their leaders say and question nothing. That's why they're so dangerous.

They can do anything and defend it — invade a country on false pretenses, grind the military into extreme danger, trash the Geneva Conventions, expand government at a record pace, threaten war with Iran and Russia — and still say with a straight face that they are the party of national security, fiscal restraint, foreign policy wisdom and military pride. It doesn't matter what they do; these people believe in this cause because it is about God and America and their own identity. And when you have a major political party constructed like that, they can do anything. And they have."

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"Everything counts in large amounts."	Lyric from the song Everything Counts by Depeche Mode

Really Saying Something (He Was Really Sayin' Somethin')

Yes, it's too long to be a sound bite, but this exchange between Barack Obama and a Democratic party operative in Albuquerque is worthy of greater exposure because it demonstrates the evaluation and nuance that should go into positions regarding our Middle East conflicts, and it's a great example of acknowledging the views and concerns of our base while setting expectations on how to meet those concerns while effectively governing.



We won't all be in lock-step, but that doesn't mean we can't all follow a worthy leader.

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Really Saying Something (He Was Really Sayin' Somethin')	Song by Bananarama with Fun Boy Three

Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves

Looks like sea creatures have determined they can't count on human assistance. In New Zealand, two pygmy sperm whales were stranded despite hours of assistance from humans, reports AP via CNN. The mother whale and her calf had been coaxed off the beach by rescuers but were then repeatedly stranded on a nearby sandbar, despite all human intervention.

But then to the rescue came Moko, a female bottlenose dolphin. Much like how a middle-aged woman in a store deftly helps mind a stranger's child as the harried young mother fumbles with purse and coupons, Moko glided in and immediately calmed the whales, then smoothly guided them back out to sea.

"They had arched their backs and were calling to one another, but as soon as the dolphin turned up they submerged into the water and followed her," AP quotes Conservation Department worker Malcolm Smith.

Personally, I'm glad to see aquatics starting to police themselves. After all, once they...er...stand up, then we can stand down.

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Sisters are Doin' It for Themselves	Song by Eurythmics with Aretha Franklin

Sorry I'm not home right now, I'm walking into spiderwebs.

Photographic evidence of my lax housekeeping skills; here's what was on my living room table this afternoon, right next to the preamp remote that I'd been using all day and the stack of mail from the week.

I've been getting home so late for the last couple of weeks there's no way of knowing how long the web had been there.

Guess I need to start a weekend routine of some basic cleaning lest Nature completely reclaim my house.

And yes, after taking the picture I crushed the spider and removed the web. I've no leniency for squatters in my house.

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"Sorry I'm not home right now, I'm walking into spiderwebs."	Lyrics from the song Spiderwebs by No Doubt

Check items off, let nothing be missed, sing I to myself and my 100 lists.

Despite having access to some way-cool, still under development, task-management software, and even though I'd set aside the whole morning, I'm still dragging my feet when it comes to listing and prioritizing all the things I need to do.

So as part of my procrastinating, I started pondering why I was procrastinating. Yep, it's that bad. And while the answer is probably blindingly obvious to, well, anyone, it took me a half-hour of cogitation to realize that once I list the tasks I need to complete, I'll then have to actually complete them.

Thus, I'm not just procrastinating, I'm metaprocrastinating.

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"Check items off, let nothing be missed, sing I to myself and my 100 lists."	Lyrics from the song Girl of 100 Lists by The Go-Go's

Left for Dead

Had a beach picnic on the Fourth and the fridge is filled with leftovers that are going to go bad if I don't use them soon. There's half a red onion, half a lime, and some vegetable stock all left for dead unless I do something.

So, let's make some bean soup! I start by simmering the chopped red onion in olive oil until it begins to caramelize. I salt and pepper the onions generously, both to bring out the water and to bolster the flavor of this simple, thick soup.

Next I add two cans of cannellini beans, liquid and all. I heat the beans for a couple of minutes then add vegetable stock to cover them, mix everything together and bring it to a boil.

Once boiling, I lower the heat and simmer the soup until the aroma moves from the sharp tang of stock to the pillowy heartiness of stewed beans (at least 20 minutes). To finish the soup I squeeze in the juice from the half a lime then mash the beans with a potato masher until most of them are pureed and the soup is nice and thick.

It goes great with a couple slices of good wheat bread and the spicy fruit of a Stryker 2002 Syrah (Estate Alexander Valley).

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Left for Dead	Song by Voodoo Glow Skulls

A Good Year for the Roses

This was one of those slow Santa Cruz days; the overcast didn't burn off until almost three in the afternoon. For some reason, as long as it's overcast out I'm fine just puttering around the house, picking up stuff and doing laundry. But once the sun comes out I start feeling guilty about staying at home. It's like the marine layer keeps my thoughts trapped at home, but once it evaporates I remember the many things I could be doing out in the world.

But I've much to do around the house so I figured a nice glass of sangria would be a fitting way to celebrate the sun's arrival, tardy as it may be.

So in a pitcher went two sliced oranges, one blood and one Valencia, and two chopped apples, one Fuji and one Granny Smith, along with two cinnamon sticks. Then in went a tablespoon of powdered sugar and three tablespoons each of Grand Marnier and brandy, stirred to coat the fruit. That mixture then sat for an hour to draw out the juices from the fruit.

Finally I added a cup of orange juice and a bottle of red wine. My selection was a 2005 Ruchè di Castagnole Monferrato (imported by Bonny Doon Vineyard). The striking, almost overwhelming, bouquet of roses on this Ruchè blends nicely with the fruit in the sangria.

Once everything blends for a while and is served over ice, the result is a fine, tasty sangria. But be careful, it's quite potent regardless of how easy it is to drink. (Something I always forget until about halfway through the glass.)

The sangria recipe is from Martha Stewart, though she calls for a cup of grapes in hers. I don't think the grapes add much to the overall result so I usually don't bother.

Oh, and speaking of not bothering, the overcast was back by four-twenty. Cozy.

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A Good Year for the Roses	Song covered by Elvis Costello & The Attractions, originally by George Jones

Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather.

A month ago I potted some plants, including cilantro. Normally I don't do well with plants, but I've been making an effort to keep these watered.

Well tonight I made a batch of salsa and thus had occasion to harvest some of my flourishing herb. I'm amazed at how much the cilantro has grown in just a month; here's a shot of the plant after I cut about a half-a-bunch's worth off the bottom. It's already two feet tall, and showing no signs of slowing down.

The cilantro was the perfect touch in a batch of restaurant-style salsa, giving it a fresh snap of flavor. The salsa's easy to make and the secret, taught to me years ago by my buddy, Tony, is to parboil the tomatoes and jalapeños before blending. This keeps them from turning rancid in a couple of days, and keeps the salsa from becoming too watery.

Tonight, for instance, I parboiled two roma tomatoes and three jalapeño peppers. (Use roma tomatoes as they have less pulp, once again helping avoid watery salsa.) Don't let the water come to an actual boil, and stop when the tomato skins peal. For an added depth of flavor, I add a handful of peppercorns to the water.

While the produce was parboiling, I stripped the leaves off the half-bunch of cilantro and put them in the food processor. Then I pulled the tomatoes and jalapeños out of the peppered hot water and put them in the processor. Next I poured in a 15-ounce can of "fire-roasted" crushed tomatoes — yep, that's why there were only two fresh tomatoes. I like to use a mix of fresh and canned, and the roasted ones have a nice smoky note. Finally I added about a quarter-teaspoon of chopped garlic (just used the stuff in a jar if you have it) and some salt and pepper.

Pulse until it looks like what you want: not too chunky and not soup. This particular ratio turned out great, with a bit of heat but not too much. I mushed up an avocado and added three spoonfuls of salsa for a quick-and-dirty guacamole, which made a fine dinner accompanied by blue-corn chips and paired with a 2005 Beaujolais Villages.

Oh, and not that I wanted to turn this blog into some sort of HGTV special, but since I mentioned my recent gardening efforts, I figured an update on the poppies is in order. As shown in the picture, the California poppies I potted a month ago are now in glorious bloom! Each pot is thriving and they seem to take turns bursting forth with flowers. Which reminds me...they're probably due for some water...

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"Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather."	Lyric from the song Scarborough Fair/Canticle by Simon and Garfunkel

The talking trees are silent in a noisy way.

We got our trees today!

A week ago I noticed that squares had been spray-painted on the sidewalk in front of the parking lot next to my house. Inside the squares was the notation "tree." I was quite excited by the notion we might be getting some new trees on our block; sure enough, this morning three trees arrived on a flat-bed truck, along with a crane to lift them into place.

A crew cut away the concrete sidewalk, dug a hole, and put the young trees in place. They placed three trees along the face of the lot, one at each end and one in the middle. (The trees were placed on the Center Street side of the lot; the Cedar Street side has trees already.)

The foreman says the trees won't grow too tall and hit the power lines, but rather should fill out nicely. They will definitely add some beauty to a dull stretch of block. And give Jake something new to anoint.

It's cool the city had budget for this.

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"The talking trees are silent in a noisy way."	Lyric from the song The Singing Sea by Tulivu-Donna Cumberbatch

Let Our Garden Grow

Potted the remaining California Poppy plant today. I also picked up some cilantro and rosemary that were on sale and potted those, too. I'm hoping they all will be easy to grow, given my indifference to rigorous gardening methods (read: inability to water regularly).

I put the pots up on the back steps so they will get more sun. I'm hoping this placement also makes it difficult for Jake to pee on them.

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Let Our Garden Grow	Song by The Bad Plus

As Far As Thieves Go

I've always admired our state flower, the California Poppy. I like the golden orange color and the way it suddenly appears in Spring, all bright and proud. It's hardy, as a good wildflower should be, and since it's a native it tolerates poor soils and sparse water.

Early Spanish settlers called this plant Dormidera, or the drowsy one, because the petals curl up at night.

When I bought my house it had two stained glass windows that depicted (or so I believe) California Poppies as they greet the day, curled tight and ready to unfurl. During my remodel I salvaged these windows and had them remounted in the dining room, with exterior lights set above for a striking evening illumination.

And to continue the poppy theme in the remodeled house I chose a new front door with leaded glass depicting a trio of poppy flowers. This, too, is eye-catching at night when the porch light shines through.

So clearly I'm predisposed to these flowers, and I've been intending to plant some around the house. On Saturday I went to the local garden center to get some liquid fertilizer and a sprayer; the front lawn's been looking a bit peaked ever since it was mowed a couple of weeks ago and I find spritzing it with some "fortified water" helps it come around. While there I came across the last, lonely California Poppy plant available, a fine, flowering specimen from the good folks at Annie's Annuals. Naturally I bought it.

As I walked home I thought about where to put the poppy, and decided it would do best in a pot on the front porch. That spot gets lots of afternoon sun and the bright flowers will look good against my beige walls. But Saturday was a busy day and I didn't have time to pot the plant. Instead I set it on the porch, its new "home," to be dealt with on Sunday.

I wake this morning, make a big pot of coffee, and head out front to get the Sunday paper. And the plant is gone. Some miserable, selfish, evil person has stolen my California Poppy right off my front porch. Immediately I'm angry. Not because of money lost; the plant was only $5. But because this theft was so unjustified. The plant won't provide anyone food or shelter, this wasn't a theft of necessity. Rather it was one of convenience, an item taken because it was easily reached.

I spend some time moping around, thinking I'll need to put up a front fence before I can even enjoy the sight of some flowers on my porch. Then I get angry again: there's no reason why I can't have a pot of flowers, and I'd be damned if some miscreant is going to keep me from adding a little color to my home. So I decide to get some more poppies and plant them in my largest, heaviest terra cotta pot and put them right on the porch.

Off I go to a different local garden center. I get three poppy plants, big and bushy but unfortunately not in bloom as their abducted cousin was, and some more potting soil. Back home I clean up the two biggest matching pots I have and get to work.

Unfortunately I've misjudged how much potting soil I need for these large pots; I can only fill one and the garden center has closed early for Easter. But no matter. I get one pot filled and placed proudly on the porch. It's my house, my yard, and I will have California Poppies on the porch.

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As Far As Thieves Go	Song by Blind Spot

I'm romancin' in my thirty dollar suit.

The blog has a new look, as I've moved it to the spiffy TicTac theme from Dan Cederholm (of SimpleBits fame). It's a very nice template available to all on Blogger.

Most importantly, this new design clearly separates the posts from the sidebar, so the site should be easier to navigate.

Thanks for the great template, Dan!

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"I'm romancin' in my thirty dollar suit."	Lyric from the song $30 Suit by Monkey

Sea Cruise

One of my best friends in Santa Cruz is about to take a gig aboard a cruise ship (the Grand Princess) as part of the orchestra. As I hadn't seen Rob for a long time I wanted to be sure we got together before he shipped out, so I invited him and his boyfriend Stuart over for dinner. Plus, I've been eager to make some real food in my new kitchen.

We had quite the feast: Caesar Salad with Baked Tofu, Whole-Wheat Penne and Roasted Asparagus with Blood Orange Gremolata, and Rosemary Foccacia. All of it organic, of course, and the asparagus was from a nearby farm in Hollister.

For dessert I made a Strawberry-Red Pear Tart with Coconut-Lavender Anglaise Sauce, based on recipes from my all-time favorite restaurant, Millennium.

The tart recipe calls for rhubarb, but I couldn't find any locally since it's early in the season. So I substituted some large red anjou pears and they worked beautifully. The crust is a fantastic pastry dough with toasted walnuts; it's very forgiving and thus easy to work with, and it's so flavorful versus a plain crust. I filled a 10" tart pan so there was plenty left over after we each had a generous slice.

For parings, we started with Bonny Doon's 2005 "Il Giocoliere" Moscato d'Asti as an apertif then moved to their 2005 Vin Gris de Cigare with the salad. With the pasta we had a La Loggia 2002 Barolo.

Everyone enjoyed dinner, and it was good to catch up with Rob and Stuart.

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Sea Cruise	Song by Rico

The Telephone Always Rings

My telephone is on TV! Well, a cousin of my telephone is on TV, featured in the new iPhone ad. The ad starts with a ringing telephone circa the mid-40s; I've a refurbished model of the same phone in my bedroom.

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The Telephone Always Rings	Song by Fun Boy Three

U-g-l-y, you ain't got no alibi, you're just ugly.

The new iPods? Fantastic! The new features in iTunes? Stupendous.

But WTF is up with the interface in iTunes v7? Seriously, the non-standard scroll bars, the atypical checkboxes, the abnormally dark selection bars...fugly. Just f-ing ugly.

For why hath these abominations been wrought upon us? What's wrong with the scroll bars in Mac OS X? Or the checkboxes? Nothing. Use them.

The new Cover Flow view is superb. (I like the similar UI in Omni Dazzle, too.) The reorganized Sources section? Genius. (I want that kind of categorization in Mail.) And iPod management within the application, instead of through Preferences? I wanna kiss someone.

But please, please, please, stop with the hideous scroll bars and lame checkboxes. They're just ugly.

And it appears I'm not the only one who thinks so.

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"U-g-l-y, you ain't got no alibi, you're just ugly."	Lyrics from Ugly by Fishbone

At Last

So now 54% of Americans think things in the United States are going either "pretty badly" or "very badly," according to a CNN poll conducted the last week of August 2006.

It's taken this long for a majority of Americans to realize things are going badly? Well, at least they've finally started paying attention.

The good news, though, is that they understand how to turn things around. According to the CNN report, that same poll found "[a] majority — 55 percent — said they are more likely to back a challenger in races on this year's ballot. Such anti-incumbent sentiment is higher than the 48 percent recorded as 'pro-challenger' in a similar survey in 1994, when the GOP took control of both houses of Congress."

So what's this mean for the Democrats? Again from the CNN report on 4 September 2006:

Democrats lead Republicans by a 10-point margin, 53 to 43 percent, among likely voters asked which party's congressional candidate they would support in November, and Democrats held a 56-40 lead on the same question among registered voters."

So perhaps the light at the end of the tunnel isn't a train after all.

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At Last	Song by Etta James

Rip. Mix. Burning bush.

Even iTunes is prodding me into action, at least judging by how Party Shuffle put these two songs together.

With Gwen urging me on and Terry assuring me it's not "what" but "how," it certainly felt like a message. Guess one can find messages anywhere, should one look.

Five Months, Two Weeks, Two Days

Wow. It's been a long time since I've posted here. If I thought there were any regular readers, I'd apologize.

I've been distracted remodeling my house, which is weird since I'm not doing any of the work.

But while I've been without TV (as I didn't bother to try moving the satellite dish to the apartment in which I'm staying) I've been reading more, and getting more fired up about the many things going wrong these days. So I'm going to start ranting here instead of at the dog, on the off chance it would do more good. We'll see.

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Five Months, Two Weeks, Two Days	Song by Louis Prima

The Universe is a Spheroid Region 705 Meters in Diameter.

While I have been miserable at my current job for almost three years now, I have made faint effort to pursue other opportunities. A half-dozen inquiries about various positions, three actual interviews, but certainly not the significant effort you'd expect from someone so dispirited and bereft.

Similarly I'm not satisfied with several aspects of my personal life, including but not limited to, my fitness level, my housing stock, and various interpersonal relationships. Despite the obvious avenues of change for each of these elements, the last six years have seen little improvement. Not coincidentally, six years ago I started my current job, or (as I now realize) began ignoring my conscience and bartering my soul for money, stock options, and a 401(k).

In trying to figure out why I'm so slow to change, I've realized I am far too comfortable with facets of my current existence. The trappings of my job, free time in the evenings, the color of my walls...I've grown accustomed to these things. I've settled into a nice little world of familiarity.

I am the poster child for inertia.

But my growing distaste for some of the core elements of my little world is upsetting the balance in this control volume. So I'm developing a plan, starting with remodeling the house. Once that's done and I've assessed the financial impact, I can start looking seriously at a line of work that could provide some measure of personal reward, though likely less remuneration than my current soul-sucking career.

Yep, it's time to git 'er done.

Woo-hoo!

As of 00:01 this morning, I've officially broken my streak. That's right, for the entire month of March I did not receive a moving violation! Since November of last year I have received a moving violation each month, every month. A ticket a month for four months running, but March ended the madness.

However with the California Highway Patrol clearly now a revenue generation program for the state, I'm certainly not out of danger.

Unfortunately, despite the traffic in every urban area of California, the CHP seem unwilling or unable to enforce those parts of the Vehicle Code like §21654 (best summarized by the sign on every California highway: Slower Traffic Keep Right) that would help mitigate congestion. Instead they only pursue drivers who are attempting to alleviate traffic and free available highway capacity by quickly and efficiently proceeding to their destination. Not surprisingly, the fines for violation of speed-related sections like §22349 are significantly greater than those for violating other sections, such as the long-ignored §21654.

(Three guesses about who just recently completed eight hours of traffic school.)

Instead of using the current laws on the books to help clear traffic, the state can only suggest new, larger highways. But anyone who has even a glancing familiarity with computer networking knows that increased bandwidth isn't the only answer. More effective use of the throughput available can also result in greater capacity.

Look, right now most everyone accessing the Internet at home is doing so over copper wires. Many of us use the same copper wires that deliver our phone service. There was a time when those copper wires delivered data at 14.4 kilobits per second (Kbps). Right at this moment I'm getting 1.62 megabits per second (Mbps) over those same old, precariously hanging copper wires.

Remember, Kbps is a thousand bits per second while Mbps is a million bits per second. Without any new wiring to my house (no new highway, no greater bandwidth) I'm getting 112.5% more capacity. How? Better data transmission devices, better compression algorithms, more efficient data packet standards, in short: doing more with what we've got.

Applied to traffic, there are immediate corollaries. Where networking has seen better modems, travelers have available better cars, with faster acceleration, improved handling, and enhanced brakes. (At least for those motorists smart enough not to drive some clunky SUV.)

These modern vehicles allow us to motor more effectively, yet most people still drive as if they were behind the wheel of a 70s land yacht: leaving far too much space in front of them, reacting much too languidly to changes in traffic momentum, and braking much more often than required. So instead of driving efficiencies that correlate to better compression, we have inefficiencies that lead to congestion.

And while computer networks now rely on intelligent, optimized data packets that know their origin and destination and do nothing but strive to get from "A" to "B" in as little time as possible, highways are filled with drivers who are un-optimized, un-focused, and seemingly unwilling to make the effort to proceed.

In short, if we want to stop wasting time and money sitting in traffic, we should look to models of efficiency like computer networking and emulate those models as much as possible. We should stop penalizing those who are trying to optimize driving and start penalizing those who aren't.

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"Woo-hoo!"	Lyric from the song Song 2 by Blur

And blood did come forth out of the wine-press...

So now I've a new reason to hate Southwest Airlines.

Sure there's the usual litany: their steadfast refusal to assign seats, the cattle-drive loading process, a haphazard approach to cabin cleaning, the constant rough landings (which I've christened "The Southwest Slam"), et cetera, et cetera.

But on yesterday's flight I clearly saw their rabid anti-vegan streak. It starts with the seats, unnecessarily clad in leather. Then my three-hour flight came with a snack box: three items, each containing animal-based ingredients. And the topper, when I went to the restroom to wash the cabin filth off my hands, I'm confronted with lanolin in the soap. It's bad enough that I have to sit on dried bovine skin, and go hungry because Southwest can't bother to offer food without components of sentient beings in it, but now I can't even adequately clean my hands without soiling my karma.

What other gratuitous use of animal products can they find? Perhaps they'll start crushing puppies in the galley. You know, to add a little kick to the tomato juice.

Do Just Enough Evil.

As always a bit behind, I've been working on resolutions for 2006. First you need a theme for the year, then the resolutions follow. Thanks, then, to the folks at Google for helping me find the theme for 2006!

The company that says their motto is "do no evil" has found a way to support the wanton repression of the Chinese government. Leave it to the Googleplex geniuses to figure out how to attenuate evil.

“We actually did an evil scale and decided not to serve at all was worse evil,” said Google Inc. CEO Eric Schmidt.

Worse evil. Next they'll be working on a way to be a little pregnant. (Another innovation in service to the Chinese government, perhaps?)

So is 2006 to be the year of just enough evil? Will that be how I finally get the remodel started? Perhaps. Will it be the Democrats' secret weapon to recover in the midterm elections? Not sure if just enough evil can prevail in the face of overwhelming evil. (Yes, modifying absolutes is addictive.)

Let's just hope this theme for the Year of the Dog doesn't bite us in the ass.

Faith is Not Commerce.

Deliberately misguided by reactionary political organizations, some Christians are demanding retailers post and sell signs proclaiming "Merry Christmas" and compel their staff to offer the same salutation, or suffer economic retaliation in the form of a boycott.

I say to you such demands are blasphemous based on the recorded tenets of the Christian religion. Christians, recall the actions of your savior as he drove the money changers from the temple (John 2:13-16). Read his exhortations against materialism (Mark 10:17-27, Luke 18:22). Clearly he defined faith to be removed from commercialism.

Don't let false teachings misguide you. Purchasing symbols or mouthing platitudes are not affirmations of faith. Simply believe in your own heart, and live your own life based on those beliefs. Do not sully your faith by associating it with commercial concerns, or allow it to be exploited by the craven political aims of others.

Well I Appreciate the Effort, Anyway.

As a vegan, naturally I've found there are some food items I've had to willfully shun. But there are many, many more that I have been able to reject without much of a second thought. As a hardcore fan of rich, dark chocolate, I can't say I've ever really missed milk chocolate since becoming vegan.

Last time I was at Trader Joe's, however, I noticed a new product: a vegan "milk" chocolate bar (or "chocolaty bar" as they call it, no doubt to comply with U.S. food label laws) made with rice milk. It's imported from Switzerland, a country that's known for some good chocolate, so I figured I'd give it a try. I've noticed TJ's has been aggressively labeling their non-animal-product items as vegan, including this chocolate bar, and I like to show my appreciation by buying said items. After all, they are a for-profit organization so I figure financial encouragement goes further than just standing in the middle of the store thinking good thoughts then putting items back on the shelf. Plus the bar was touted as a good source of calcium (achieved by adding calcium chloride to it), and adequate calcium intake is something about which all vegans should be mindful.

So I bought one, brought it home, and had at it.

It's not bad. It certainly has more of the creamy flavor of milk chocolate, but it's no Hershey bar. I'm probably not the best judge, though, given my fondness for dark chocolate. Can't say I'd buy it again. The chocolate flavor is nowhere near as strong as I'd like, the texture is too waxy, and the rice milk flavor is stronger than I thought it would be.

That said, if you're one of those unfathomable freaks who actually prefers milk chocolate over dark, yet are forgoing dairy for some reason, you might want to check out this product.

Oh, I suppose it's possible this bar might blend more easily into a liquid, say for making a vegan hot chocolate drink. Perhaps I'll try that with the remainder. But for chocolate indulgence, I'll be sticking with the sublime beauty that is the Scharffen Berger 60%, also available at Trader Joe's.

Doddering Shuffle.

Driving home from work last night I was listening to my iPod shuffle. Jake was sleeping; despite all his attributes he's rather indifferent to music it seems.

The shuffle is currently holding 280 ska songs. I leave it set on shuffle mode and let it wander through the range of first-, second-, and third-wave ska on-board. Sometimes it plays successive songs from the same artist or group, but last night it did something odd: it played the same song twice in a row.

First it played "Meat Dance" by Slow Gherkin off the split CD Invisible Tank. This caught my attention because it's a more up-tempo cut of the song, released in 1998, that I hadn't heard recently.

That was immediately followed by the original cut of "Meat Dance" off the 1995 comp This is Raj...and This is Ska. Weird. Out of 280 songs, what are the odds the shuffle would play two version of the same song, one right after the other.

Even stranger is that I randomly Autofill my shuffle from my ska library, currently holding 681 songs. (Raise your hand if you didn't thing there were that many ska tracks in the world. Now put your hand down; you look like a fool sitting in front of a computer with your hand raised.)

So out of the random Autofill where only a third of the songs will be selected, these two tracks made it into the shuffle, then while being played randomly, they end up back-to-back. (Well, technically back-to-front, but that's not the expression.)

If I didn't know better, I'd say the Universe is trying to tell me something.

Smoked Spicy Fruit.

If you're at Trader Joe's or New Leaf and you see the Santa Cruz Mountain Vineyard's 2000 Syrah, get a bottle. You won't regret it.

Made from Livermore Valley grapes, this isn't one of the more popular or well-known products of SCMV. They seem to prefer promoting their wines made from grapes grown within our Santa Cruz Mountains appellation, and I can't blame them, but the 2000 Livermore Valley Syrah is a fantastic wine nonetheless.

There's smoke and spice — pepper, anise — followed by jam-like blackberry and raspberry flavors.

And I'm certainly no expert, but it seems to me this wine could cellar for at least five more years and just keep getting better and better.

Warning: this wine throws sediment.

A Fine Summertime Snack.

So, I arrive home from work feeling a bit peckish. The house is hot and stuffy from being closed up all day in the Summer heat.

First, open up the windows to let in the breeze; the fog will roll in shortly and cool down the place. Next, pour a nice cold glass of Big House Pink. Finally, tuck into my newest favorite snack: organic baby carrots generously slathered in Miya's Green Goddess tofu spread and dip.

This sumptuous spread is loaded with fresh herbs and the tang of lemon; it's low in fat and low in carbs, but loaded with flavor. I get it at New Leaf Community Market, in the deli section next to the hummus and salsas. Unless you have the taste buds of a cat, you will love it, too.

Made in China.

The house rebelled recently.

I came home after a not-so-great day at work, and while I was changing I noticed the sound of running water in the bathroom, which was odd as I don't normally just leave water running all day. Investigating revealed the toilet was no longer shutting off when the tank filled, and the excess water was pouring out the overflow valve. The shut-off mechanism appeared to have simply failed at some point while I was at work.

Wanting more light to inspect the innards of the toilet tank, I pulled (in retrospect perhaps a bit too vigorously) on the chain of the ancient wall-mounted light fixture in the bathroom. The light snapped on with a fascinating new sound which, it turns out, indicated it will never turn off again. So now my bathroom featured never-ending water and light. Great.

I cut the water to the toilet and, with the aid of a potholder, removed the light bulb from the fixture. At least things were stable until I could get parts. I went into the kitchen to make dinner and enjoy some Big House Pink. It was a complex recipe: open can, pour soup into Pirex, cover with cling wrap, poke holes in wrap, put in microwave. The oven light came on, but that was the only normal thing it did. The soup wasn't rotating in the chamber, and the oven made an ominous low rumble and grind. I quickly pressed Stop, then tried again. Same ominous low rumble, and by now I could feel the radiation pouring out of the appliance and metastasizing every abnormality in my body.

That was it. Clearly I needed to wander the house, shouting obscenities at everything that wasn't working. Oddly enough, that didn't fix anything, but it did convince Jake to go hide on the bed until I was done.

Thus it was I headed to Crapitola the following weekend to get what I needed to put the household back in reasonable working order. First stop was OSH, where I learned the part I needed for the toilet has the rather improbable name of "ballcock." (I assume it was an old plumber's joke gone wrong.) Then I searched for new bathroom wall fixtures, but couldn't find any suitable. So I tracked down a pull chain switch so I could attempt to fix the existing fixture. It was about then I noticed that both the ballcock and pull chain switch, along with every light fixture I'd looked at, were made in China. Curious, I wandered OSH and found a surprising number of items for sale were also made in China.

Then it was across the street to Sears for a microwave oven. They had a nice, basic, little oven on sale for $49. Sure enough, made in China. As was every other microwave oven they offered.

My friend Mark had tried, several years ago, to avoid buying anything made in China based on his concern over their apparent disregard for human rights. But he'd eventually given up because, it seemed, some things were just no longer made outside of China. Judging from my experience shopping the other weekend, nowadays most things aren't made outside of China.

Now I've never been a protectionist, but I'm starting to wonder about just what, in fact, America does for a living. And I'm not the only one. Even globalization fanboy Thomas Friedman is noticing a disturbing imbalance in U.S.-China trade, as he said in his column of 20 July:

"So many U.S. dollars and jobs are flowing to China, it is becoming politically and economically unsustainable for the Bush team."

For a man who thinks unfettered global trade is the bee's knees, he's certainly worried about one specific trade deficit. Beyond the sheer financial implications, Mr. Friedman acknowledges a point that many have been making lately, and that I tried to make to my friend Todd just last week:

"While we have been focused on 9/11 and Iraq, China and America have become, in economic terms, Siamese twins."

But why would this be an issue? Why would the current regime be waiving their Iraq hand in our faces while their China hand is up a sleeve, out of sight? The August issue of The Progressive postulates an answer in their editorial 'The Bush Plunge:'

"[Bush] and Cheney and Rumsfeld understand that the world economy runs on oil, that Saudi Arabia's supplies are peaking, that the House of Saud is unstable, and so Iraq, with the second largest oil reserves in the world, is 'vital.' By controlling Iraq's oil, the United States also can have more leverage over the Pentagon's enemy on the horizon, China, which now desperately needs to import oil to keep its economy chugging."

While it's tempting to dismiss this idea as liberal folderol, do note how similar it is to the "Tiananmen-Texas Bargain" Mr. Friedman attributes to Steven Weber of the Institute of International Studies in Berkeley, to wit: China offered their middle class steady economic growth in exchange for voting rights, growth fueled by the U.S. trade imbalance that allows China to underwrite vast amounts of our debt.

So, what can save the United States, besides a dubious and costly war in the Middle East? Lately many talking heads, including Mr. Friedman, have opined that China needs to revalue their currency, the yuan. And that's exactly what they did last Thursday. No longer pegged at a fixed rate against the U.S. dollar, the yuan will now "float against a basket of currencies," as the BBC said in their indubitably British way.

So now it's all good? Everything's going to be OK? Well let's not forget the concerns about human rights that had my buddy Mark checking labels a few years back. And the fears of environmental damage spurred by China's breakneck industrial growth. However, recent events in China suggest the very large and ever-more-informed populace is deciding they won't be sacrificed to their government's economic dreams. Riots are said to be sweeping the nation as the Chinese seem to be less willing to tolerate government indifference and corruption.

But where are we on buying Chinese goods? Listen, if I had all the answers, I wouldn't be penning a blog, Lone Gunmen-style, at almost Midnight on a work night. Besides, I need to fix my toilet.

No Wonder the Market's Irrationally Exuberant!

Listening to Bloomberg TV this morning, I heard some talking head say Treasury yields are at four-twenty. And that he expected them to be higher. No doubt. Sounds like a classic case of Chronic Underachievement to me.

In Praise of Warm Vans.

Watered the plants this morning. The tomato plants need daily watering; I guess I used too small a pot. I pulled on the pair of worn, black, classic Vans that were sitting on the back step so I could traverse the patch of overgrown grass and dog poop to get to the spigot.

The insteps of the shoes had long ago conformed to my feet, the foam rubber compressed by pressure at ball and heel, the canvas atop the foam scrunched forward by my unique gait. The hard rubber half-moon that holds the shape of the back of the shoe has long since broken down, as happens with old Vans. You learn to turn the shoe upside-down and shake to dislodge the latest bits of rubber that have come loose, as well as any creepy crawlers who've decided my Vans are an available backyard condo.

The shoes were lying in the morning light, the black canvas body absorbing the heat, so when I pulled them on they were the perfect warmth for my bare feet. Supple from the sun, the Vans settled right on me as if they were an extension of my own body, delighted to be back in their proper place. As I tied each one the canvas top embraced my foot, my pinkie toe coming to rest in the crook that forms where the shoe front flexes. (I've never been able to decide if the hole that invariably forms in the canvas at that point is caused by the flexing or the toe.)

At that moment, there was no more perfect feeling than the warm Vans on my feet.

The shoes are at the peak of comfort; as time goes on the instep covers will become too loose and bunch in the arch, the back heels will degrade and spew ever larger chunks of rubber, and the holes at the front will grow so large my pinkie toe will pop out when walking.

But right now those Vans have the perfect level of decay, or experience if you prefer. And they wait patiently on the back step for my half-hearted yard maintenance. As I thought about the delight they brought me this morning, I realized I should hold onto that happiness and carry it as far forward into the day as I can.