So ClearChannel booted Howard Stern over having to pay a fine for his indecency. The indecency charges stemmed from a listener who was offended, and complained. Now there's a brouhaha about decency in the media.
Back when the RLA and I were living in Scorched Earth Hell, New Mexico (also known as Clovis), a bunch of righteous-minded folks got MTV banned from the cable, because they thought Madonna was indecent, and they didn't want their kids exposed to such things.

Well, for them, and for the listener who started this whole Howard Stern flap, let me suggest a little outrageous something: turn off the radio, or the tv. I'm not going to tie you down and force you to watch Deadwood, so why must you force your choice on me?

That's all this is, people: a frelling choice, you know? I mean, unless you were living under a rock for the past ten or fifteen years, you weren't tuning in to Howard for intellectual stimulation. The man has strippers on the radio, for dog's sake. Radio: by definition, a non-visual medium.

This whole thing reminds me of the scene in Casablanca, where Captain Renault is "shocked, shocked" to learn that there is gambling in Rick's, as he pockets his own winnings. What did you expect to find on Stern's show except sex, sex, and a little profanity? So don't bitch about it. Just turn it off.

That's what I do every time I see those smug bastards in the Bush administration on tv. I turn it off, and then I double check my calendar to make sure we still have a democratic election coming up so that I can turn them off for good.

Turn it off, or change the channel. If you don't want your kids to watch something, try watching them. But that is another rant entirely. A rant about accountability and taking responsibility. Wait. Maybe it's the same rant that I was heading towards regarding the asshats in Washington.

I believe Howard when he says this is just a vendetta by the Bush administration, anyway. After all, even if nobody remembers the fact, Michael Powell (FCC) is the son of Colin Powell (White House running dog lackey). And Howard, despite early enthusiasm for the war in Iraq, has lately come to the conclusion that (I'm shocked, shocked) the call to war was built on lies, more lies, bogus intelligence, and a need to go shoot things. Since he can, he does, talk about that and about where he thinks the blame for American deaths lies: squarely in the White House, and who ever is in charge there.

But enough about that. I have something much more important to talk about today. And I know that this is going to be big news for my Jewish readers: you can make a perfectly good pie crust for Passover using matzoh cake flour and a regular old Crisco pie crust recipe. I did just that on Saturday with RJ, who came by for a kitchen play date. We picked mulberries and gave the crust a try. It's a little too crumbly to roll out, you have to pat it into the pie plate, but it tastes like pie crust, and it looks like pie crust and it acts like a pie crust. For the top crust, we merely made a sort of strussel out of the left over bits, and cut in sugar, cinnamon, ginger and cardomom.

After 50 years of no pie during Passover, we have solved the problem. And it was good. Photos will follow.

Finally, thank you to the folks who made donations to my AIDS Walk fundraising. For the rest of you, it isn't too late to help. The walk is on Saturday, the 18th.

Actually, what I really mean is, give me the money.

I'm going to do something I never, ever do on this site: I'm going to show you my face.
show me

That was me and my film school buddy Nick. I've written about him before. The photo was taken in New York City in 1985. Six years later, Nick would be dead of AIDS. He never told me he was sick. In October of 1991 I received an invitation to a "celebration of his life", which I thought odd, since his birthday was in January. Slow, but not dumb, I figured it out.

Later this month I will be participating in the 2004 Miami AIDS Walk. I do it for Nick. And Shel. And Scotty. And John. Among others. I always repeat those names, but this year I thought I'd show you a face. Let you know, like I do, that they were real and vital and important to me.

If you lost someone, or if you didn't, if you can find it in your wallet, this close to tax deadlines, then please, help me raise money for the cause.

Thanks. I mean it.

awaken lawn banish buzzsaw
rink it knoxville fieldwork
mouthpiece bootstrapping bacterium fermi quote
millinery coplanar clergyman foolhardy
alpenstock condominium hades rode
poignant affine earphone
sci posit albert

lovely. as always.

and by request, the Pale Green Salad, with annotations

The recipe came from FabulousFoods.com which in turn, has this credit:

"This recipe was given to us by Joan Kekst, author of the fabulous book Passover Cookery. Whether you are new to preparing a Seder or an exeprienced cook, this is best, most well organized guide we have seen.

Pale Green Salad:
2 tart green apples, core and thinly slice (and since I didn't have any, I used Bartlett pears)
juice of 2 limes
grated zest of one lime
2 cans artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
6 scallions, sliced
2 large cucumbers, sliced lengthwise, peel, seed and cut crosswise
2 stalks celery hearts, thinly sliced
8 pitted green olives, sliced (pimento stuffing removed)
salt and freshly ground white pepper (The mill was filled with a blend of white, green, pink and black)
1 teaspoon horseradish grated
2 tablespoons light olive oil (don't use light, only use extra virgin, first press)
4 tablespoons cilantro or parsley, minced (I always use cilantro, for contrast, taste-wise)
2 peeled avocados, sliced (and mine, once I cut them open, were bad, so I added one can of hearts of palm, drained and sliced thin)
1 cup seedless green grapes

Lime Vinaigrette:
2 tablespoons water
1/4 cup lime juice
1/2 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar (right. I didn't have white, red worked just fine, thanks)
salt and white pepper to taste
1 small garlic clove, minced
1 tablespoon minced scallions


Serves 8 (and there were 11 at the table, we had a small amount of left overs, even after seconds)

For dressing, combine all ingredients in a jar, mix well, use on salad.

For salad, coat sliced apples in a large bowl with lime juice to prevent discoloring. Add next 8 ingredients. Coat well with olive oil, cover and chill 1 hour.

To serve, coat avocado slices with lemon or lime juice or the lime vinaigrette. Arrange over salad with the grapes and sprinkle with cilantro. Pass dressing. (We tossed the dressing over the salad in the serving bowl.)

Leg of Lamb

Take a whole head of garlic. Separate the cloves, peel and slice into matchstick sized slivers. Take the leg of lamb, bone in or boned (cook's preference. mine is bone in) and make small incisions over the entire surface in a 1-2 inch grid. Insert garlic sliver into each incision. (I do it one at a time, since the little nub of garlic sticking out makes it easier to see the grid.)

Set a rack in the bottom of a shallow roasting pan, large enough to hold the leg of lamb. Cover the rack with fresh thyme and rosemary, reserving some to spread over the lamb leg. Place the leg on the rack, fatter side up. Grind a generous amount of pepper and salt onto the lamb. I had a lavender/herb salt at hand, and used it. Strew surface with more rosemary and thyme.

Roast as preferred until done as preferred.

Little Red Potatoes

You need the smallest, freshest little potatoes you can find, in a quantity sufficient to feed your guests (please note, however, that what ever you think is sufficient, it won't be -- these are that good)

Peel the potatoes, or peel just a strip from the middle, or don't peel them at all. Half or quarter them, depending on how small they are.

Pour a quantity of EVOO in a roasting pan, large enough for the potatoes to fit in one layer

Roll the potatoes around in the oil, until they are well coated. If you want to live wild, add a little garlic powder.

Grind fresh pepper and salt to taste. I used pink sea salt this time.

Place in a moderately hot oven (375?) and roast, undisturbed until they are golden and slightly crisped. Stand back as the hordes descend like locusts on these.

This concludes today's cooking lesson.

Wahoooooooooooooo, Werewolves of London.

OK. Now I'm cranked. I have a leg of lamb bigger than the Jack Russell. I have three heads of garlic, two clumps of thyme and another of rosemary. There's a couple pounds of the tiniest little red potatoes I could find, and they are sitting, patiently waiting to have a slender strip of their skins peeled off their middles and be rolled in the finest olive oil, have pink salt ground onto them and be shoved into a really hot oven to roast. There are huevos haminados sitting in a blue bowl in the refrigerator. I have my pale green salad recipe printed out and ready to roll. Pears, olives, artichoke hearts, lime juice and cilantro, a little heart of palm and a vinaigrette dressing.

Having gotten my heart going with about 4 cups of coffee, I am now ready to take on the task of inserting slivers of garlic in a lovely grid over the entire leg of lamb. It will then be nestled into a bed of rosemary and thyme and roasted until pink in the middle. Call that rare, call it medium, call it whatever you like, but it'll be rich and redolent of garlic and still juicy.

There are two bunches of asparagus, fresh from the fields of somewhere: Guatemala? California? Peru? that will be steamed until tender. We will throw ping pong balls at each other for the plague of hail. There will be little plastic flies strewn across the table for the plague of the same name. We will don sunglasses for darkness. We will drink, and laugh, and repeat that until the sponge cake makes its appearance at the end of the night.

I am ready to celebrate.

Because this is the first Passover where my father will not be attending a seder. Even when he was in the Philippines in WWII, there was a seder. He won't go tonight because he says he can't focus on the haggadah. He doesn't feel up to the reading. He knows the food will be good, and it would be good to be with family, but he just won't go.
I remember sitting in Pumpernick's on the beach (63rd and Collins) one year when I was in college. My folks brought me back to school after spring break. I got a car my senior year, so this had to be earlier, maybe '74. The waitress brought the usual basket of rolls and dishes of pickles and cole slaw. It was the seventh day of Passover. We looked at the salt sticks with caraway seeds. We eyed the pumpernickel onion buns. We looked at each other. My mother said something to the effect that it was close enough for government work and took a roll.

Daddy and I sat frozen. Passover wasn't over, yet. How could we possibly eat a roll? My father said he had never, ever broken the bread rule early. I looked at him. He looked at me. My mother continued to butter her challah. He took the pumpernickel onion. I took the salt stick. The guilt we both felt overwhelmed the deliciousness of the rolls.

And tonight, he insists he will nuke a little frozen Tabachnik's matzoh ball soup, and have a little Manischewitz. When I tried to talk him into at least going to the local deli for fresh, he yelled at me.

I can't even bring myself to make soup today, and yet I am home for that express purpose. To prepare my own family's seder. We will use the RLA's grandmother's silver. My grandmother's depression glass dishes. The silver platters were wedding gifts to my parents. The matzoh cover was made by hand and embroidered by my father's mother, and when my Auntie gave it to me, Daddy reminisced about using it when he was a child in Newport. Elijah's cup is the kiddush cup my husband received on his Bar Mitzvah. We will be comforted by ritual and surrounded by physical memories.

The youngest children will be in Disney World this year, on spring break with their mother. The oldest will be at Hillel at her college. To supplement the holes in our numbers, number two daughter will bring some friends.

Last year, my parents came to my seder. It was the last time my mother was able to follow along, sort of. The RLA's mother died just after Passover almost 20 years ago. She insisted on lasting long enough to have a seder with her family.

And all of this change and death just sucks, because Passover has always been my favorite holiday. I feel the continuum of Judaism across time and space. I can feel my ancestors in the rituals. I know that, where ever they are, my Jewish friends are doing the same thing I am. We are all connected on this night, in ways that are for me, more meaningful and real than when I sit in shul for the High Holy Days.

This is religion and ritual on a personal level. Like the haggadah says, on this night, G-d brought ME out of Egypt. On this night I need to let go of what ever is enslaving me. I need to be aware of those who are with me on this night, both in my home and in my heart.

Why is this night different? Because on this night, all is right with the world.

In what is probably a huge violation of copyright law, I present you with this article from Salon, in its entirety, because if even a dozen people read it here, who don't have access to it there, I have done good for the world.

Creepier than Nixon
The man who brought down Richard Nixon says Bush and "co-president" Cheney are an even greater threat to the country.

By David Talbot

March 31, 2004 | As Richard Nixon's White House counsel during the Watergate scandal, John Dean famously warned his boss that there was "a cancer on the presidency" that would bring down the administration unless Nixon came clean. In his new book, "Worse Than Watergate: The Secret Presidency of George W. Bush," Dean warns the country that the Bush administration is even more secretive and authoritarian than Nixon's -- in fact, he writes, it's "the most secretive presidency of my lifetime."

"To say that the [Bush-Cheney] secret presidency is undemocratic is an understatement," he adds. "I'm anything but skittish about government, but I must say this administration is truly scary and, given the times we live in, frighteningly dangerous."

Dean's new book is being published, appropriately, as the country is being treated to another spectacle of Nixonian smearing and stonewalling by the Bush White House. Rather than come clean about its pre-9/11 security policies, the administration has engaged in a frenzied counterattack on its whistle-blowing former terrorism chief, Richard Clarke, while refusing to let National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice testify before the bipartisan panel investigating the terror attack until the political pressure became overwhelming.

Dean conversed with Salon by e-mail from his Los Angeles home.

How is the Bush-Cheney administration more secretive than Nixon's?

A few examples make the point. Nixon became a secretive president, as his presidency proceeded, while Bush and Cheney were secretive from the outset. Nixon actually tried to reduce the excessive national security classification of documents (through a panel headed by the man who is now chief justice of the United States), while Bush and Cheney have tried to increase classification (and 9/11 does not hold up as the reason for much of it). Nixon only abused executive privilege (the power of a president to withhold information from his constitutional co-equals) after Watergate, while Bush and Cheney have sought to abuse the privilege from the outset. Nixon was never taken to court by the General Accounting Office for refusing to provide information about executive activities, while Bush and Cheney forced GAO to go to court (where GAO lost under a recently appointed Bush judge). Nixon believed presidential papers should be available for historians, but Bush has undermined the laws to make such records available to the public.

While Nixon's presidency gave currency to the term "stonewalling," Bush and Cheney have made stonewalling their standard procedure, far in excess of Nixon. In short, in every area one looks, Bush and Cheney are more secretive than Nixon ever imagined being. I have mentioned but a few.

Why have Congress and the press allowed Dick Cheney to get away with his stonewalling tactics on the energy task force, Halliburton, duck hunting with Justice Scalia, and other questionable aspects of his vice presidency?

I would add to the list Cheney's outrageous stonewalling about his health, which we know is bad, notwithstanding his effort to keep the details secret. The Congress lets Cheney do anything he wants because Republicans control it, and Cheney is their heavy in the White House for getting things done. Cheney, so long as Republicans control, will not have to answer, but should we return to divided government in 2004 or 2006 and Cheney is still in the White House, that will end.

There has never been a vice president -- ever (and even including Spiro Agnew who was Nixon's) -- who needed to be investigated more than Cheney. Nor has there ever been such a secretive vice president. Dick Cheney is the power behind the Bush throne. Frankly, I am baffled why the mainstream news media has given Cheney (not to mention Bush) a free ride. I don't know if it is generational, or corporate ownership, or political bias, but it is clear that Cheney has been given a pass by the major news organizations.

Do you feel the vice president has, after more than three years of secretive governing from an undisclosed location, become a political liability to the president? How likely is it that Bush will drop him from the ticket this year?

Dick Cheney is a political disaster awaiting recognition. In the book, I set forth a relatively long list of inchoate scandals, not to mention problems worse than scandals. They all involve Cheney in varying degrees. Bush can't dump Cheney, for it is Cheney, not Rove, who is Bush's backroom brain. He is actually a co-president. Bush doesn't enjoy studying and devising policy. Cheney does. While Cheney has tutored Bush for almost four years, and Bush is better prepared today than when he entered the job, Cheney is quietly guiding this administration. Cheney knows how to play Bush so that Cheney is absolutely no threat to him, makes him feel he is president, but Bush can't function without a script, or without Cheney. Bush is head of state; Cheney is head of government.

If, say, the Securities and Exchange Commission's current investigation of Halliburton's accounting also discovers that Cheney engaged in insider trading when he left Halliburton (which the facts suggest is highly likely), and this matter erupts before the Republican convention, then Cheney might be forced to step aside. Cheney always has his bad-health excuse anytime he wants to take it -- because it is a fact. He has a certain immunity as vice president, but if he were to be dropped from the ticket (or he and Bush lose), I believe Cheney would have serious problems which he would no longer be able to deflect. Thus, he will stay and fight like hell to win.

I quote Cheney from his time in the Ford White House when he said, "Principle is okay up to a certain point, but principle doesn't do any good if you lose." I think this statement sums up Cheney's thinking nicely.

You write that Bush and Cheney have not leveled with America about their true agenda. What is it?

Because of their secrecy, it takes a lot of work to connect the dots. I've not connected them all, but enough of them to know that the only agenda they had during the first term was to get a second term -- which meant secretly taking care of their major contributors. Should they get a second term, we know their secret agenda, for they have quietly stated it: They intend to make sure the Republicans control the federal government (all three branches) indefinitely, if possible. In short, the Bush-Cheney agenda is about perpetuating Republican rule by taking particularly good care of major contributors who share their views of the world.

Karl Rove also plays a unique role in the Bush administration. One close observer says in your book that he's "Haldeman and Ehrlichman all in one." Explain.

Rove's unique role is that he is a political guy making policy decisions for political reasons. Decisions in the Bush White House are made not based on what is best for the public interest, rather what will get the president the most mileage with his base, and best political advantage. Not since Nixon's so-called responsiveness program -- which was uncovered during the Watergate investigation -- have we had such overt political decision-making.

The reference to Haldeman and Ehrlichman as explaining Rove was a quip from a friend of mine from the Nixon White House who has had dealings with Rove. Since Rove is a revengeful fellow, my friend will remain nameless. But my friend was telegraphing a lot of information about Rove with this bit of shorthand -- for anyone who has any knowledge of the Nixon White House and Watergate, they know Haldeman and Ehrlichman were the heavies. First, it is a compliment in that both Haldeman and Ehrlichman were very smart, and highly efficient. But what it tells us is that Rove is ruthless, for both Haldeman and Ehrlichman were that too.

Both Haldeman and Ehrlichman saw the world through a political lens, and what was most likely to help Richard Nixon get reelected. So does Rove. Haldeman was involved with procedure (broadly speaking, I mean who was doing what at the White House, arranging the presidential travel and appearances for maximum political benefit, and constantly mindful of the president's image and making him look good), and Ehrlichman was the substance guy (who developed domestic policies, but accounting for the political impact). Rove controls both.

Had Haldeman and Ehrlichman not received the longest sentences of any of those involved in Watergate, Rove would probably be pleased by the comparison.

Karl Rove first came to your attention during Watergate. In what ways is he the reincarnation of Nixon dirty tricksters like Charles Colson and Donald Segretti?

He is way beyond anything Nixon had at his disposal. He is closer to a behind-the-scenes Nixon operator named Murray Chotiner, who could cut off an opponent at the knees so quickly the person did not immediately realize he had been crippled. As I note in the book, the first time I heard the name Karl Rove was when I was asked if I knew anything about him by one of the Watergate special prosecutors who was investigating campaign dirty tricks. I didn't have any knowledge. But I recalled that question when working on this book, and located a memorandum in the files of the Watergate prosecutor's office that indicates they were asking others as well about Rove. Based on my review of the files, it appears the Watergate prosecutors were interested in Rove's activities in 1972, but because they had bigger fish to fry they did not aggressively investigate him.

Colson was brutal, cruel and vicious before he found God (during Watergate). While he once famously said he would run over his grandmother to get Nixon reelected, today I suspect he'd run over his grandmother to convert a few heathens to Christ. Segretti did not engage in the kind of dirty politics that Colson liked to play. Segretti was a political prankster, who only by accident got associated with Watergate. Nothing that Segretti did, that I know of, could be called sinister. Colson, on the other hand, was as nasty a political operative as could be found. Indeed, to this day we don't know the full extent of Colson's activities. He even refused to tell Nixon some of the things he had done (while boasting to Nixon he had done things he didn't want to tell the president). Colson walked out of the White House with any of his papers and records that might cause him a problem. Karl Rove, from what I've seen, makes Colson look like a novice.

Bush has managed to stay above the ugly tactics used against opponents like John McCain and now John Kerry. Does he privately give them his blessing?

Of course. All candidates control their campaigns, and if they don't want such activity, it doesn't occur. As I discovered in talking to people about Bush, he is a highly sophisticated political operator. I've noted in the book that Rove gets the credit for being Bush's political brain. It's an arrangement both men like, because it raises Rove's importance as a political operator, and lowers Bush's exposure. In truth, Bush is probably more politically savvy than Rove. Both men learned their politics from Lee Atwater, who ran Bush senior's 1988 campaign. Atwater made dirty politics into an art form, by which I mean he provided those for whom dirty deeds were done deniability while Atwater's people tore up an opponent's pea-patch and everything else. I expect the 2004 presidential campaign to make Richard Nixon look like a high-road campaigner.

At least until recently, the Bush administration has successfully used the public's fear of terrorism to advance its agenda. You go so far as to agree with Gen. Tommy Franks' dark prediction that another major terror attack on U.S. citizens will drive the country to suspend the Constitution. Why do you fear that?

As I state in the book, I agree for reasons that probably differ from those of Gen. Franks. The short summary of what is really a thread that runs through the book is that when you have a presidency that has no regard for human life, that develops and implements all (not just national security) policy in secrecy, and is driven by political motives and a radical philosophy, it is impossible not to conclude that they will overreact -- and at the expense of our constitutional safeguards. Bush and Cheney enjoy using power to make and wield swords, not ploughs. They prefer to rule by fear. We've had three years to take the measure of these men. I've done so and reported what I found in a book I never planned to write, but because others were not talking about these issues, I believed they needed to be placed on the table.

Bush and Cheney have exploited terrorism ever since 9/11. Now they are exploiting it to get reelected. Should there be an even more serious threat, they have found that when Americans are frightened they can be governed like sheep, which suits Bush and Cheney perfectly. Rather than taking the terror out of terrorism by educating and informing Americans, they have sought to make terrorism as frightening as possible -- using terrorism to launch a war of aggression that is breeding a new generation of terrorists and getting the Congress to pass the most repressive new laws imaginable and calling it an act of patriotism.

Do you think Bush has an enemies list? Are you on it?

I don't believe that Bush, Cheney or Rove are foolish enough to actually maintain such a list -- as was foolishly done in the Nixon White House. But I believe they have long memories. As to how they feel about me, I could care less. As I explain in the book, I used many of my sources on background because this is a White House that takes revenge, and its supporters and surrogates play as dirty as they can get away with. The truth for this White House is not very pleasant, and my writing about it will not be appreciated. I didn't write this book for those who believe that Bush and Cheney have got it right, and don't want to hear otherwise. Rather I wrote it because a lot of people suspect that they've gotten it wrong, and needed someone who knows the workings of the White House to explain what is going on and why.

If the Bush-Cheney scandals are "worse than Watergate," why hasn't this administration produced a whistle-blowing John Dean?

First, I make very clear in the book that while the underlying conduct is worse than Watergate, it has not -- yet -- erupted into a scandal like Watergate. Like anyone at the White House, yours truly included, you first try to work within the system -- to right things you know are wrong. Take former terrorism czar Richard Clarke. He certainly tried to get the Bush administration to address the problems of terrorism sooner rather than later, but failed. After leaving government he remained troubled about the Bush administration's failures to deal with terrorism, for he knows better than most that the war in Iraq only added to the problems. So he testified truthfully before the 9/11 commission -- which is all I did. Or take former Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill. He tried to work within the system. However, he was fired for telling the truth and expressing his well-founded concern about Bush's excessive tax cuts for the upper incomes. This is a presidency that does not like the truth told about their activities.

If, as I believe to be the case, things are going to get rough for Bush and Cheney given the potential scandals they face, others like Clarke and O'Neill may fill the role I found myself having to fulfill. But the stakes are higher now. No one died because of the abuses of power known as Watergate. Too many have died (and more in the future may) because of the abuses of power by this presidency. That's why their abuses are worse than Watergate.

salon.com

About the writer
David Talbot is Salon's founder and editor in chief.

This is a letter that was sent to me several years ago (1996) by a dear friend and baseball junkie who was, at that time, living in Japan. He's back in the States now, and currently not speaking to me because he feels I've gone to the dark side re my thoughts on the Free Trade protesters in Miami. But I still love him, and once the season starts, I'm sure we'll be taunting each other over the standings of the Giants and the Marlins.
"Dear LARedd,

as you might have gathered, Hideo Nomo can't do anything without 120 million of his countrymen and women (& me) knowing about it, least of which is striking out 17 Marlins -- a game they showed here twice (ugh!). Seeing the Marlins, however, kick-started thoughts of you, and as cherry blossom petals snow down along the basepaths, I thought I'd say hello and describe baseball Nihon-style.

No national anthem, for starters. Teams, as you may already know, carry names of corporate sponsors rather than cities, with the exception of the Yokohama Bay Stars (to be fair, there are 3 teams with city and corporate names: Fukuoka Daiei Hawks -- Fukuoka is in Southern Japan, Daiei is a department stor; Hiroshima Toyo Carp (Toyo as in Toyota); Ciba Lotte Marines (Tokyo suburb and food manufacturer).

The home team here is the Seibu (railroad/department store/land developer) Lions, whose motto is, in English, "Winning with irresistable force," but at the moment it is false advertising -- they're 2-5. Two leagues: Central & Pacific, with the Pacific employing the (gag!) DH. Anyway, with the lack of a national anthem, the home team takes the field not as a group, but individually as a lengthy intro is given for each player. Pitchers work fast here. Managers have an annoying obsession with bunting runners over -- yes, even the clean up hitter is expected to bunt when asked to.

Opening day was against the Kintetsu Buffalos (Kintetsu Railway's own -- bearers of the world's ugliest baseball uniform) and the Lions and their irresistable force jumped out to a 7-0 lead. Two innings later, however, with a cold wind blowing in from right, the Buffaloes tie it up. Hey, cold wind? Home team blowing a 7 run lead? Gee, I feel right at home. The stadium is divided into home and road sections for good reason: each team has thousand of rabid, albeit well behaved ( i.e., no hooligans), fans who chant non-stop while their team is at bat. There is also a definite caste system at work: folks in the box seats (i.e., me on opening day), at ?2,500 (about $25) are subdued -- the fun takes place out by the foul poles (where I intend to sit next time). At a critical point in the game, a Lion named Kiyohara gets a double and, thrilled at the prospect of a lead-taking run, I yell "Yeah! Kiyohara, you're the man!" Which causes everyone to turn around and stare at the crazy gaijin (foreigner, i.e., me), and causes a beer vendor to come up to me and ask which kind of beer I would like.

No seventh inning stretch -- I get up in the middle of the 7th and Kyoko says "Are you going somewhere?," while the guy in the seat behind repeatedly pokes me in the back, saying "sumimasen": (Excuse me). They do, however, sing the Lions song in the middle of the seventh. The ushers have whistles, and it wasn't until a foul ball came our way -- tweet -- that I knew why. An American, I am proud to say, came through to win it for the Lions: Scott Cooper, or su-ko-to Ku-pa, who played 3rd for the Red Sox last year, hit a two-out RBI double to break a 10-10 tie in the bottom of the 9th. There are a few other yanks here: Darrin Jackson (Lions), Darnell Coles (Cunichi-newspaper-Dragons), Shane Mack (Yomiuri-newspaper-Giants), Tom O'Malley (Yakult-health food-Swallows), Glenn Braggs, (Yakult) and more. The Japanese are getting smart and are poking around the Dominican Republic and have two guys who are outstanding: Yomiuri has a pitcher named Galvez and Nippon Ham (food processors) Fighters have a guy named Brito whose homers are measured in kilometers.

Oh yeah, Pete Rose's son plays for Yokahama, and who can blame him? If my dad was as big a scumbag as Pete Rose (and he has his moments...), I'd play as far away from the US as I possibly could. We just finished Koshien, the semi-annual high school baseball tournement, televised nationally (oh, and I should mention, baseball is on tv every day here - is this a great country or what?). At koshien, each school brings their student body to the game, including their band. The student body does a cheer, like "Kawashima, he's our man, if he can't do it, Soto can,: after which the band breaks into "I'm Popeye the Sailor Man." This is the standard for all 3 schools -- chant and "Popeye" theme (although one school's band played the theme from "Raiders of the Lost Ark").

Look for a guide for American baseball fans visiting Japan called (in Japanese) "Take Me Out to The Ballgame," currently being penned by moi. Also, read "You gotta have Wa" by Robert Whiting.

Your pal,

Larry"

Psalm 2004

Bush is my shepherd, I shall be in want.
He leadeth me beside the still factories,
He maketh me to lie down on park benches,
He restoreth my doubts about the Republican party,
He guideth me onto the paths of unemployment for the party's sake.
I do fear the evildoers, for thou talkst about them constantly.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy deficit spending
They do discomfort me.
Thou anointeth me with never-ending debt,
And my savings and assets shall soon be gone.
Surely poverty and hard living shall follow me all the days of my life,
And my jobless children shall dwell in my basement forever.
And from this side of the pond, a little satire, sung to the tune of "The Beverly Hillbillies"

The Ballad of the Texas Hillbillies

Come and listen to my story 'bout a boy name Bush
His IQ was zero and his head was up his tush
He drank like a fish while he drove all about
But it didn't really matter 'cuz his daddy bailed him out
DUI, that is. Criminal record. Cover-up

Well, the first thing you know little Georgie goes to Yale
He can't spell his name but they never let him fail
He spends all his time hangin' out with student folk
And that's when he learns how to snort a line of coke
Blow, that is. White gold. Nose candy

The next thing you know there's a war in Vietnam
Kin folks say, "George, stay at home with Mom"
Let the common people go to get maimed and scarred
We'll buy you a spot in the Texas Air Guard
Cushy, that is. Country clubs. Nose candy

Twenty years later George gets a little bored
He trades in the booze, says that Jesus is his Lord
He says, "Now the White House is where I oughta be"
So he calls his daddy's friends and they call the GOP
Gun owners, that is. Falwell. Jesse Helms

Come November 7, the elections runnin' late
Kin folks say, "Jeb, give the boy your state!"
"Don't let those colored folks get into the polls"
So they put up barricades so they couldn't punch their holes
Chads, that is. Duval County. Miami-Dade

Before the votes are counted five Supremes step on in
They tell all the voters "Hey, we want George to win"
"Stop counting votes!" is their solemn invocation
And that's how George finally goes and gets his coronation
Rigged, that is. Illegitimate. No moral authority

Y'all come back to vote now. Ya hear?

On Friday, as the RLA and I were coming home, we missed getting T-boned by a teenager who was racing out of a cul-de-sac without paying attention to the stop sign. We didn't even see him in our rear view mirror, but our neighbor, who thought he was about to witness death and mayhem in his front yard, followed us home to tell us how lucky we were.

On Saturday, as we were parked in a lot behind the comic book store in South Miami, some asshat in a white vehicle parked next to us. Or, more accurately, parked in us. We didn't notice getting into the car, but getting out, at home, we found a deeply creased left front side panel on the PT Cruiser. We know that the asshat was in a white vehicle, because the crease and accompanying scrape on the running board was filled with white paint. A dent that bad should have made itself known with a metal shriek. I'm sure it did.

But this is the Naughts, where it's only what's in it for oneself, and putting a good grand of damage on a stranger's car is inconvenient to acknowledge. So one doesn't. And we, the RLA and myself, were happy and chatting and not paying any attention when we got in the car, and so didn't notice if the car parked next to us was the one that creased us or just an innocent bystander.

So the question is this: Coincidence? Fate? Was the damage to the car inevitable, and we had to make a sacrifice to the gods who protected us the day before? The truth is, if we had been mowed down by a reckless teen, the car has airbags and good side column impact resistance, so we would probably have escaped with minimal damage. But the dog, who rides free in the back cargo area, would have been killed.

The RLA says that kind of thinking is superstitious. Whatever. The universe will unfold as the universe will unfold. We dodged a bullet of one kind on Friday and took a hit, albeit very minor, on the next.

It was a crap day all around, anyway. It was rainy and windy. There were no bargains or fabulous styles at the shoe store, for either me or the RLA, and we left without making a purchase. The stretcher strips were all warped, at the art supply store. They had a sale on colored pencils, and I was able to find all the colors I wanted (I had had a dream about the luminous water in Biscayne Bay and wanted to work with the colors I'd seen) but then, they only had one clerk at the register, and she kept wandering off to check prices for the person three ahead of us in line, and there seemed to be no end in sight to her wandering, so we left there, too, without making a purchase.

But today the sky is clear, and there are farmer's markets to visit, and other art supply stores.

Spam, wonderful spam....

squishy nebulae
itinerant shrink
minuend arsine floyd
hydrology fallout competent midwinter
gadgetry gilt bradley quadruple feminism
estes doubleday juno gregory contiguous
client frail frizzle indochinese

And yet, despite the wonderful alliteration of some of those subject lines, the mystery they promise, the cosmic quandaries they profess to ponder, all of them are selling the same thing: male sexual enhancement drugs.

To which I can only yawn.

In honor of it being the birthday of my ex-husband (the Antichrist), I'd like to present you all with some excellent examples of the Lying Sacks of Shit that we have in power today. But I'd like to begin with what I've been assured is a quote from the lovely and admirable James Carville:

"Back in 2000 a Republican friend warned me that if I voted for Al Gore and he won, the stock market would tank, we'd lose millions of jobs, and our military would be totally overstretched. You know what? I did vote for Gore, he did win, and I'll be damned if all those things didn't come true!"

I gave up on trying to format the rest of this post, which was up for the past day or so, and looking like shit. Suffice to say, it was a loverly screed against the lying sacks of shit in office, and came to you courtesy of MoveOn.org.

If you really want to read it, try the archives, or just go here.

Take it as a given that I want to keep my job. So how do I solve this problem? I can't do my job at the level of quality that I want, because other people have a say in what I do and how I do it. My boss asks for my advice, then either disregards it entirely, or just screws it up randomly. My battles with the PR department have been documented on this site, and every time I think I'm getting out from under their control, they fuck me in the ear with no oil.
I have a new VP, who has promised to "go to the wall" for us if we have a valid idea about how to do our work, who will defend us to the end for our vision of best practices. On the two occasions that I've had to test that resolve, he's caved, with the comment that one has to pick one's battles. So the result is that I don't believe in him or trust him and he's only been here for less than six months.

If asked for my opinion, what do I do? Do I give my best and honest answer, and wait for it to be ignored or gotten wrong? Do I give something less than the best answer, knowing that when PR gets wind of my point of view, they'll demand the polar opposite be done? Do I just smile politely and explain to my boss, that, well, he's the boss and he'll have to make those decisions? That I just couldn't (or won't) say?

That looks like (and is) passive aggression at its best, and a practice that is held in high esteem in this institution. While it works for damn near every incompetent I've had to deal with here, I suspect that I won't be allowed to get away with it. After all, the rules are different for me. Just look at the example of my office and the way I had to bend the rules into an origami crane just to get the furniture configured the way I wanted it, whereas the rest of the team, and the other team all got to bully their ways into what they wanted with no discussion from above.

Working here is like working in a particularly nasty whore house. Nobody wants to marry you when you quit. After a certain number of years working here, nobody wants to hire you when you leave. You've been ruined for real work.

And I have passed that point long ago. By the same token, I have lasted so long here that I am firmly held in place by the golden handcuffs. Offer me a job at the same salary, with the same benefits, and with a marginally more competent group and I would jump like a flea off a dead rat.

When I talk to other employees, we are all in the same place: held together with anti-depressants, cigarettes and alcohol.

So. Today was my first day back in my office. Or would have been, had I not been locked out. First, the outer door had the combination changed. Once in the hall, I discovered that during my absence someone had shut my door. The self-locking door to which no one has a key. Not one person. Not security, not the building managers, not the key shop. While I was at lunch (what? what else was I supposed to do? Sit in the hallway, on the floor? I tried that. It annoyed me more than anyone else.) someone managed to move a ceiling tile, and drop a hook over the inside door handle.
Also high on the incompetence-in-my-life list is American Airlines, which managed to somehow send my suitcase to Chicago, while I was flying home to Florida. It arrived a mere 23 hours later than I did. My husband had to pick me up, but the suitcase got a limo to my door.

Such is life. Once I had a suitcase go to Bogota while I was on a puddle jumper to Tallahassee. The baggage handlers told me I should take my old tags off of my suitcase before traveling. I had never been further south than Jamaica, and couldn't figure that out at all. Not six months later the same airline's baggage handlers were indicted (and later convicted) of smuggling cocaine. In people's luggage. People like me, whose suitcases disappeared and then reappeared. Nothing stolen, so no report filed. Missing luggage, so went straight on through customs, not searched. Clever, but not clever enough.

I always said that my teddy bear came back from that trip with a new scar and a knowing smile.

A few seasons ago on the Sopranos, when Chris was shot and had a near-death experience he described his vision of hell to the rest of the boys. "Hell," he said, "is an Irish bar where it is always St. Patrick's Day."

Don't start sending me hate mail, but I think he's right.
Another reason to love this little town is that it is 99.99% Danish. Guess what? None of that kiss me I'm Irish for today crap. No wearin' o' the green by people who have no relationship to Ireland other than that they think Kathy was a pretty hot model in her day. No hostile glares for wearing orange. No green beer, no green bagels, or green cream cheese or green rivers. No nada. And I couldn't be happier.

And my cousin, who I have never met, but who lives just up the coast, is going to come down tomorrow after my training session ends to get together. Has this been a great trip or what?

Yellow poppies, pink azaleas, little purple Johnny jump ups. There are trees in bloom, and little white clouds, swallows diving around in the sky. My god, this is one beautiful piece of earth. The air is mild, and not too moist. Again, if it weren't for the natural and unnatural disasters and the cost of living, I'd move out here in a New York minute.
Well, that and I hate being the only Jew in a one Jew town. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and the scars. Won't be doing it again voluntarily in this lifetime.

In my wandering around yesterday, I spotted a second quilt store and a third needlework store. Today we went to lunch by ourselves, and not with the class. They were all going up the valley to some Nouvelle Cuisine joint. The boy wonder and I went to a Mexican restaurant just across the street from our hotel. Yowzah! It was just heaven on a soft tortilla.

We still have another two days of training, and then it's back to the grind. I have decided that converting the hospital site will take me a good six months. At least.