Pakistan has lost what was arguably its best chance for a peaceful transition from the military dictatorship of Pervez Musharraf to a civilian government when a yet-to-be-identified gunman fired on Benazir Bhutto's car and then blew himself up, causing the former Prime Minister to suffer a mortal skull fracture as she was knocked back against the inside of her car. Unsurprisingly, Musharraf's government has laid the blame for this attack on Al Qaeda, but while it remains to be seen whether the fault lies with the militants who assassinated her or with the security forces that seemed unconcerned with actually protecting her, it would not be a surprise to learn that AQ actually had a hand in this.
On September 9, 2001, AQ in Afghanistan blew up another promising figure: Ahmed Shah Masood, the Lion of Panjshir. Like Bhutto, Masood was viewed by many as the sort of character who could bring stability to a country in the grip of great turmoil. Unlike Bhutto, Masood would almost certainly have done so through military force against the then-dominant Taliban, but this is only fitting considering that his background was as a military leader, and hers was as a civil leader.
It is important, at this juncture, for us to remember why the Taliban is unlikely to take over the entire country of Pakistan, no matter how many Pakistani leaders they attempt to assassinate: unlike in Afghanistan, where a divided and fractious Northern Alliance provided the only opposition to the Taliban (and their allies, AQ), Pakistan has, for better or worse, a military wholly united behind one leader, also conveniently, the current President and dictator. So while the Taliban may (correctly) claim to control (or at least operate with impunity within) certain large chunks of the Pakistan-Afghanistan border, they have little to no hope of expanding their area of influence. It is also important to remember that even if, by some strange feat of populism, Islamic extremists managed to win elections in Pakistan, the Pakistani military would be loathe to surrender to such a regime the country's nuclear secrets; I expect that contingency plans are in place to shut down these resources should the (unthinkable) scenario above come to pass.
This is still little reason for us to view Musharraf's government with anything but contempt. The man is a dictator in the South American mold; in fact, he's managed to out-do even the lamentably autocratic Chavez in this regard, since Chavez at least did not suspend the Constitution when his bid to become Pres. for Life was voted down by the electorate. The best that can be said for Musharraf is that he is no Nawaz Sharif, but this is damning with faint praise. Sadly, this leaves us agreeing with fellows like Imran Khan, the former cricketer turned politico who's been calling, loudly, for Musharraf's resignation; one is reminded that the enemies of our enemies are still not our friends.
In Pakistan, now, it's hard to tell if we have any friends at all.
12.28.2007
12.21.2007
Longest Night
Once upon a time, our ancestors watched with dread as the days grew shorter and shorter until one night, longer than any previous, convinced them that the Things That Go Bump in the Dark had finally won the battle and eaten the sun, and that morning would never, ever come. Our ancestors huddled in their caves, huddled to keep warm, and, if they had the materials, they lit fires and kept them burning with whatever they had at hand in the desperate hope that the sun, encouraged by the symbolic connection of fire to fire, would burst its bonds and bring morning and light back to the world.
And in most cases, it did.
The alternative, already pointed out, is still worth considering.
Keep the fires burning.
And in most cases, it did.
The alternative, already pointed out, is still worth considering.
Keep the fires burning.
Medical Myths Addressed
The British Medical Journal has a nifty report debunking some key medical myths (including my nemesis from childhood, that reading in dim light will ruin your eyes). I fully expect my faithful readers to take note of these, as I will not hesitate to beat you with this article if I catch you propagating any of these without at least acknowledging evidence to the contrary.
12.15.2007
Cirque du Soleil: Kooza
Saw Kooza in San Francisco tonight: Awesome.
The last circus I saw was Archaos: the Chainsaw Circus in Islington, North London, so understand that I'm not a fan of your usual Ringling Bros. fare. I want stories, I want spectacle, and I want a lot of danger (or at least the perception thereof). Kooza had all three. The guys in the spinning cages alone were worth the price of admission.
Practical notes: we sat on the far, far left as you face the stage (door 7), and we still got to see just about everything; Yoko would have liked to sit closer to center so as to get a front-on view of the guys in the spinning cages. The seats were a bit small and uncomfortable, and I had to hunch to avoid blocking the view of the little old lady behind me, but the show moves along nicely enough that I didn't get too cramped. Parking was $20, but we showed up just before the show (damn you, Bay Bridge!) and still got a great spot that had us out of there in no time.
The last circus I saw was Archaos: the Chainsaw Circus in Islington, North London, so understand that I'm not a fan of your usual Ringling Bros. fare. I want stories, I want spectacle, and I want a lot of danger (or at least the perception thereof). Kooza had all three. The guys in the spinning cages alone were worth the price of admission.
Practical notes: we sat on the far, far left as you face the stage (door 7), and we still got to see just about everything; Yoko would have liked to sit closer to center so as to get a front-on view of the guys in the spinning cages. The seats were a bit small and uncomfortable, and I had to hunch to avoid blocking the view of the little old lady behind me, but the show moves along nicely enough that I didn't get too cramped. Parking was $20, but we showed up just before the show (damn you, Bay Bridge!) and still got a great spot that had us out of there in no time.
12.12.2007
Geography!
The clever folks at TravelPod.com have put together a fascinating little Flash game that tests your ability to place locations on a world map. Fun, fun, fun! Be warned, the game takes a little time to do.
I got to level 11 and 440,086 points. How did you do?
I got to level 11 and 440,086 points. How did you do?
Terry Pratchett: Sad News
Terry Pratchett announces that he has early-onset Alzheimer's.
Hang in there, Terry.
[Update: A fan makes an impassioned plea here.]
Hang in there, Terry.
[Update: A fan makes an impassioned plea here.]
11.26.2007
Future's So Bright
Slashdot and Gizmodo are carrying a Santa Fe Reporter article on a compact self-stabilizing nuclear power source and Hyperion Power Generation, the New Mexico company formed to manufacture it. This is a fine time to point out why nuclear power is not the bogeyman; it's not nuclear power itself we need to worry about, it's shoddy worksmanship, lax regulation, and sacrificing safety for the bottom line that we need to worry about.
The idea of burying possibly dangerous power sources is not entirely new; I read an article in Wired a while back about turbine generators that proposed sealing a honking huge turbine in concrete and burying it 20' down so that if (or rather, when) it broke up, the shards of screaming metal would only bury themselves deeper in the ground. Now, if Dr. Peterson can build a device that would, AT WORST, permanently seal itself up so that we can dig it up later and dispose of it, then I say, sure, no problem, plug that sucker in (though, um, not near my aquifer, please). The danger, of course, is, well... let's just just hope it doesn't come to that.
The idea of burying possibly dangerous power sources is not entirely new; I read an article in Wired a while back about turbine generators that proposed sealing a honking huge turbine in concrete and burying it 20' down so that if (or rather, when) it broke up, the shards of screaming metal would only bury themselves deeper in the ground. Now, if Dr. Peterson can build a device that would, AT WORST, permanently seal itself up so that we can dig it up later and dispose of it, then I say, sure, no problem, plug that sucker in (though, um, not near my aquifer, please). The danger, of course, is, well... let's just just hope it doesn't come to that.
11.23.2007
One-Two Combination
I was already planning to check out The Physics of Superheroes by James Kakalios when I passed on this lovely Dresden Codak strip to my brother Darth, the librarian. He let me know about a sort of graphic novel about the life and work of Nils Bohr (Suspended in Language, by Jim Ottaviani), so I checked that out as well.
They turned out to be perfect books to read in a row.
The Physics of Superheroes begins as a physics primer for comic book fans who have little actual understanding of physics. The first topic is an exploration of how much force Golden Age Superman must generate in order to leap a tall building in a single bound, and from f=ma, well, it's all downhill, innit. Around midway through the book, Kakalios gets to Quantum Mechanics, and then the fun really starts. He finishes up with Kitty Pryde walking through walls, which, it turns out, is pretty much where Suspended in Language picks up.
Understand that Suspended in Language is pretty unabashedly pro-Bohr, so if you're looking for a hard-hitting expose on the Danish bedstefar (gudfar?) of modern physics, this isn't it. However, if you're interested in getting started learning about the folks who eventually brought us the atomic bomb and quantum entanglement (spooky action at a distance), well, this is a fine place to start.
They turned out to be perfect books to read in a row.
The Physics of Superheroes begins as a physics primer for comic book fans who have little actual understanding of physics. The first topic is an exploration of how much force Golden Age Superman must generate in order to leap a tall building in a single bound, and from f=ma, well, it's all downhill, innit. Around midway through the book, Kakalios gets to Quantum Mechanics, and then the fun really starts. He finishes up with Kitty Pryde walking through walls, which, it turns out, is pretty much where Suspended in Language picks up.
Understand that Suspended in Language is pretty unabashedly pro-Bohr, so if you're looking for a hard-hitting expose on the Danish bedstefar (gudfar?) of modern physics, this isn't it. However, if you're interested in getting started learning about the folks who eventually brought us the atomic bomb and quantum entanglement (spooky action at a distance), well, this is a fine place to start.
11.18.2007
FIDO (Non-spoiler Review)
Full disclosure: Look, folks, I'm here to admit it: zombies scare the hell out of me. Now I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill dead people brought back to life by Voodoo (or the necromantic act of marking one's targets with a cursed hand; inside joke); I'm talking about the shambling dead, biting on and infecting the rest of us. They combine my two worst fears-- viral outbreak and rabid mindlessness. So why do I love zombie movies?
Frankly, I don't. Sure, the modern remake of Dawn of the Dead or the godawful Resident Evil is good for some laughs, but really, if the only thing you're bringing to the table is a bunch of infectious walking dead, count me out. I've got better things to watch. But if you're willing to go one step further and bring in some humor (Shaun of the Dead, Black Sheep) or some really biting social commentary (or even some art, a la 28 Days Later), well, now, keep talking, and I'll consider putting down the shotgun.
And thus Fido, a Canadian production that marries Lassie and Night of the Living Dead with deadpan performances from Carrie Ann Moss (whom I'd pretty much let eat my brains any day of the week) and Billy Connolly (who makes me laugh so hard, I'd drop my shotgun anyway). Yoko and I were literally in tears, we were laughing so hard (though you can expect to pause the movie a couple of times to explain classic Lassie moments to viewers not familiar with the milieu). It's not perfect, but it hits the numbers, and it might just make our Best of 2007 list (short, short list this year).
If you can handle gore with your laughs, hunker down and check it out.
Frankly, I don't. Sure, the modern remake of Dawn of the Dead or the godawful Resident Evil is good for some laughs, but really, if the only thing you're bringing to the table is a bunch of infectious walking dead, count me out. I've got better things to watch. But if you're willing to go one step further and bring in some humor (Shaun of the Dead, Black Sheep) or some really biting social commentary (or even some art, a la 28 Days Later), well, now, keep talking, and I'll consider putting down the shotgun.
And thus Fido, a Canadian production that marries Lassie and Night of the Living Dead with deadpan performances from Carrie Ann Moss (whom I'd pretty much let eat my brains any day of the week) and Billy Connolly (who makes me laugh so hard, I'd drop my shotgun anyway). Yoko and I were literally in tears, we were laughing so hard (though you can expect to pause the movie a couple of times to explain classic Lassie moments to viewers not familiar with the milieu). It's not perfect, but it hits the numbers, and it might just make our Best of 2007 list (short, short list this year).
If you can handle gore with your laughs, hunker down and check it out.
Attn: Andre Agassi
My wife would totally kick your ass at Nintendo Wii Tennis. Current score: 2001. Oh, yeah!
11.04.2007
Can you guess the policy?
Below are descriptions of several world leaders. Can you guess the leader and the current US Administration's policy toward the country in question? (Note that I have painstakingly left out words like "privatization," "nationalization," "terrorist," "junta," "regime," and "dictator" so as not to give the whole thing away.)
1) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region. Our economy is so mismanaged that we were once considered a failed state. I was not elected President at first, and the actual elected leader of our country is currently under arrest. My recent election as President is under judicial review, so I suspended the Constitution and had the Judiciary locked up. You may have also seen my country in the news recently when I had my police use force to disperse demonstrators and arrest members of the opposition. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes."
2) "Hi, I'm the Prime Minister of a Republic with moderate influence in our region but a lot of natural resources that our neighbors want to trade for, so they generally leave us alone. My party was not elected, and the actual elected leader of our country is currently under arrest. You may have also seen my country in the news recently when I had my police use force to disperse demonstrators and arrest members of the opposition."
3) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region and throughout the world. Our economy is based on natural resources that all of our neighbors want to trade for, so they're happy not to interfere as long as I keep the resources flowing. I was elected President in a free and fair election, and I recently made the legislature change the constitution to allow me to run again, even though I'm past the term limits. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes."
4) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region and throughout the world. Our economy is based on natural resources that all of our neighbors want to trade for, so they're happy not to interfere as long as I keep the resources flowing. I was elected President in a free and fair election, and I although I haven't made any moves to change the constitution to allow me to run again, I may attempt to become Prime Minister in the next election, and I'll be eligible to run for President again in the following election. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes."
5) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region. However, our economy lacks a lot of natural resources, and we are dependent on other nations to help make up the lack. I was never elected president, and we haven't ever held elections."
6) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region. We have a thriving economy, and I was elected in a free and fair election. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes. Since I've been President, we've had several peaceful protests against my government, but we haven't used force to disperse them. We do have a problem with vigilantes, though."
(Answers behind the cut.)
1. Pervez Musharraf, Pakistan; supported via aid and arms
2. Lt. Gen Thein Sein, Burma; sanctions imposed on certain members of the military junta
3. Hugo Chavez, Venezuela; backed an abortive coup to take over the country
4. Vladimir Putin, Russia; ally and member of the coalition of the willing
5. Fidel Castro, Cuba; sanctions firmly in place
6. Mahmoud Ahmadi-nejad, Iran; sanctions imposed, designated Axis of Evil member
And yes, I really, really don't get #1 there.
1) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region. Our economy is so mismanaged that we were once considered a failed state. I was not elected President at first, and the actual elected leader of our country is currently under arrest. My recent election as President is under judicial review, so I suspended the Constitution and had the Judiciary locked up. You may have also seen my country in the news recently when I had my police use force to disperse demonstrators and arrest members of the opposition. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes."
2) "Hi, I'm the Prime Minister of a Republic with moderate influence in our region but a lot of natural resources that our neighbors want to trade for, so they generally leave us alone. My party was not elected, and the actual elected leader of our country is currently under arrest. You may have also seen my country in the news recently when I had my police use force to disperse demonstrators and arrest members of the opposition."
3) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region and throughout the world. Our economy is based on natural resources that all of our neighbors want to trade for, so they're happy not to interfere as long as I keep the resources flowing. I was elected President in a free and fair election, and I recently made the legislature change the constitution to allow me to run again, even though I'm past the term limits. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes."
4) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region and throughout the world. Our economy is based on natural resources that all of our neighbors want to trade for, so they're happy not to interfere as long as I keep the resources flowing. I was elected President in a free and fair election, and I although I haven't made any moves to change the constitution to allow me to run again, I may attempt to become Prime Minister in the next election, and I'll be eligible to run for President again in the following election. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes."
5) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region. However, our economy lacks a lot of natural resources, and we are dependent on other nations to help make up the lack. I was never elected president, and we haven't ever held elections."
6) "Hi, I'm the President of a Republic with a lot of influence in our region. We have a thriving economy, and I was elected in a free and fair election. I've got a track record of supporting forces the current US administration opposes. Since I've been President, we've had several peaceful protests against my government, but we haven't used force to disperse them. We do have a problem with vigilantes, though."
(Answers behind the cut.)
1. Pervez Musharraf, Pakistan; supported via aid and arms
2. Lt. Gen Thein Sein, Burma; sanctions imposed on certain members of the military junta
3. Hugo Chavez, Venezuela; backed an abortive coup to take over the country
4. Vladimir Putin, Russia; ally and member of the coalition of the willing
5. Fidel Castro, Cuba; sanctions firmly in place
6. Mahmoud Ahmadi-nejad, Iran; sanctions imposed, designated Axis of Evil member
And yes, I really, really don't get #1 there.
11.03.2007
Oakland's New Economic Experiment
Somewhere around July, Oakland City Council ok'd an amendment to Title 10 of the Oakland Municipal Code, adding Pay and Display Meters to our city's method of controlling parking and collecting revenue therefrom. Pay and Display is not a completely new method of paying for parking; Seattle's had an adhesive form of the receipts out for quite some time. In Oakland, the way it works is, you park in an empty spot designated as part of the Pay and Display zone, you pay at an electronic pay station, you get a receipt, and you place the receipt on your dashboard (not sure how this works for motorcycles). You can pay with coins, bills, or credit/debit cards, and the receipt looks like this:
Two hypothetical situations occurred to me the other day:
First, say I found myself parking in one location (Piedmont Ave.) and finishing my business with fifteen minutes left on my receipt. Let's say I zip on over to another location (Grand Ave., in front of the Safeway), and instead of putting money in the meter, I just leave the receipt on the dash and hurry through my shopping. I'm a fast shopper, so I'm out in ten minutes, just before my receipt is set to expire.
Second, say I found myself again finishing my business while I still had time on the receipt (five minutes this time). I notice that the guy parked next to me is sitting in his car waiting for someone to finish shopping; he does not have a Pay and Display receipt. I hand him mine, and I drive away.
In the first case, what I've done may be against the Pay and Display ordinance (10.36.050.A):
In the second case, what I've done is an extension of the old "random acts of kindness" deed where do-gooders would pop nickels in dimes in expired meters as the parking patrol was driving up. The ordinance does not ban the transfer of receipts, although it does stipulate that the parker is supposed to go and get the receipt him or herself (i.e., by putting her or his own funds in the machine). I suppose that if the officer saw you do it, she could cite the other driver... or cite you for not having your own receipt any more. Of course, since the ordinance also excepts:
More realistically, however, it's unlikely that your average parking enforcer or police officer is going to do much more than check the numbers for the time on displayed receipts. After all, there are a lot of parking spots out there and a limited number of officers to inspect them-- and most people are just going to either forget to pay and display or are going to misjudge their time.
It strikes me that what we've inadvertently created here is a new and odd sort of economy. According to the Oakland City Parking Meters webpage, parking in a metered spot costs $1 to $1.25 per hour. Obviously, if you intend to park for an entire day (10 hours), you're probably better off parking in a pay lot or hunting for one of those rare free parking spots, but if you're "just going to be a minute" here and there, it might be worth your while to buy up two hours and take your act on the road. Of course, under no circumstance would it be worth your while to get a scanner, a special printer, and GIMP and make up your own receipts; that would be illegal, and no one would do that.
Right?
Two hypothetical situations occurred to me the other day:
First, say I found myself parking in one location (Piedmont Ave.) and finishing my business with fifteen minutes left on my receipt. Let's say I zip on over to another location (Grand Ave., in front of the Safeway), and instead of putting money in the meter, I just leave the receipt on the dash and hurry through my shopping. I'm a fast shopper, so I'm out in ten minutes, just before my receipt is set to expire.
Second, say I found myself again finishing my business while I still had time on the receipt (five minutes this time). I notice that the guy parked next to me is sitting in his car waiting for someone to finish shopping; he does not have a Pay and Display receipt. I hand him mine, and I drive away.
In the first case, what I've done may be against the Pay and Display ordinance (10.36.050.A):
It is unlawful for any person to park or leave standing any vehicle in any pay-and-display space on any street for a period of time in excess of parking time limits designated on the receipt issued from the pay-and-display meter controlling the space.Apparently, each pay-and-display meter has a set number of meters assigned to it, and if you use a receipt from another machine, you're in violation. I leave it as an exercise for future enterprising readers to work out which number on the receipt references the zone. Also, it's sometimes hard to tell where one zone ends and another begins.
In the second case, what I've done is an extension of the old "random acts of kindness" deed where do-gooders would pop nickels in dimes in expired meters as the parking patrol was driving up. The ordinance does not ban the transfer of receipts, although it does stipulate that the parker is supposed to go and get the receipt him or herself (i.e., by putting her or his own funds in the machine). I suppose that if the officer saw you do it, she could cite the other driver... or cite you for not having your own receipt any more. Of course, since the ordinance also excepts:
the time necessary to deposit United States coins in said parking meter so as to show, indicate, register, display, or permit legal parkingI suppose you could always argue that you haven't been there long enough to satisfy the foregoing.
More realistically, however, it's unlikely that your average parking enforcer or police officer is going to do much more than check the numbers for the time on displayed receipts. After all, there are a lot of parking spots out there and a limited number of officers to inspect them-- and most people are just going to either forget to pay and display or are going to misjudge their time.
It strikes me that what we've inadvertently created here is a new and odd sort of economy. According to the Oakland City Parking Meters webpage, parking in a metered spot costs $1 to $1.25 per hour. Obviously, if you intend to park for an entire day (10 hours), you're probably better off parking in a pay lot or hunting for one of those rare free parking spots, but if you're "just going to be a minute" here and there, it might be worth your while to buy up two hours and take your act on the road. Of course, under no circumstance would it be worth your while to get a scanner, a special printer, and GIMP and make up your own receipts; that would be illegal, and no one would do that.
Right?
10.27.2007
Review: Eastern Promises (No Spoilers)
David Cronenberg's new feature, Eastern Promises, is an excellent and tight little crime drama, filled with intriguing characters, superbly understated performances, and brutal, desperate violence. For you Aragorn fan-girls out there, this is going to be a kind of dilemma: there's a full-frontal shot of Viggo Mortensen, but it takes place in one of the least sexiest scenes in recent memory. Be forewarned: this movie is violent. However, it's also beautiful and well-made.
Two thumbs up.
Two thumbs up.
10.26.2007
Odd Reflections?
So I'm looking out my window here at work, and I notice an airplane zipping West. That's hardly unusual, but what's tripping me out is that I can see a shadow of the contrail on the cloud layer above the contrail. Help me, Internet! What am I seeing here?
Image One
Image Two
Image Three
Image One
Image Two
Image Three
10.24.2007
Scary-Go-Round
Scary-Go-Round is a web comic in much the same way that truffles are food.
Today's strip is proof: Old Jumbly: The Ghost of the Elephant Man riding a Ghost Elephant.
Hang up the Internet, for it has been won.
Today's strip is proof: Old Jumbly: The Ghost of the Elephant Man riding a Ghost Elephant.
Hang up the Internet, for it has been won.
Not Burning
My parents live in San Diego, but they're not in danger of burning, at least not just yet.
We were in San Diego and Northern Mexico over the weekend on a wine-tasting bus tour. The wineries, located in the Guadalupe Valley, were lovely. We visited the Doña Lupe Winery, a small, mostly organic winery, and the much larger L.A. Cetto Winery; we drank a bottle of Merlot from Doña Lupe last night, and it was spicy, flavorful, and a lot of fun. Went down a treat with some light meat-sauce spaghetti.
Anyway, on our way back on Sunday, the Santa Ana winds were kicking up a lot of dust, so at first we thought it was just usual smog and dirt. By the time we got to Tijuana, it was pretty clear that there was more going on. There was ash coming down like a light snow, and the air outside the bus was full of particulates. It seemed to clear up as we got to San Diego airport, but as you can see from the maps, that was mostly a false lull.
Schools throughout San Diego were closed Monday and Tuesday, and the authorities told people who work in Escondido (like my Mom) to stay home. My aunt and uncle, who live in Fallbrook, packed their stuff and moved in with my parents. So far, their house appears to still be standing. Keep those fingers crossed.
We were in San Diego and Northern Mexico over the weekend on a wine-tasting bus tour. The wineries, located in the Guadalupe Valley, were lovely. We visited the Doña Lupe Winery, a small, mostly organic winery, and the much larger L.A. Cetto Winery; we drank a bottle of Merlot from Doña Lupe last night, and it was spicy, flavorful, and a lot of fun. Went down a treat with some light meat-sauce spaghetti.
Anyway, on our way back on Sunday, the Santa Ana winds were kicking up a lot of dust, so at first we thought it was just usual smog and dirt. By the time we got to Tijuana, it was pretty clear that there was more going on. There was ash coming down like a light snow, and the air outside the bus was full of particulates. It seemed to clear up as we got to San Diego airport, but as you can see from the maps, that was mostly a false lull.
Schools throughout San Diego were closed Monday and Tuesday, and the authorities told people who work in Escondido (like my Mom) to stay home. My aunt and uncle, who live in Fallbrook, packed their stuff and moved in with my parents. So far, their house appears to still be standing. Keep those fingers crossed.
10.17.2007
Good Resource
If you have a library card for the San Francisco Public Library, it turns out that you also have online access to the Oxford English Dictionary, Rosetta Stone (Online language learning), among other incredible online resources.
The best part of all: all residents of California are eligible for SFPL cards. The only downside is that you actually have to show up in person.
The best part of all: all residents of California are eligible for SFPL cards. The only downside is that you actually have to show up in person.
10.14.2007
And Then It Clicked
So I'm sitting there watching The Next Iron Chef (TNIC), and it suddenly occurs to me why I dislike this format.
Let's back up. The original Iron Chef (OIC) program, in Japan, certainly had its own roster replacements, which is how Iron Chef America's (ICA) Masaharu Morimoto got his start on the show. When OIC needed new Iron Chefs, however, they went about it through the Old Boy network: the producers either asked chefs they knew (this is how Sakai became IC French) or they asked the retiring chefs to make recommendations (this is how Koumei Nakamura became IC Japan). There was no competition for the role, and if there had been, it wouldn't have been show on TV. This was strictly professionals at work; even getting invited as a Challenger meant that you'd already been vetted by the profession at large.
Of course, we Americans loathe the OB network (unless we went to Harvard, and then we don't understand why everyone distrusts the Skull & Bones Society or the Bohemian Grove), and we love competitions. Even if we find Survivor and American Idol distasteful on an aesthetic, moral, and ethical level, hey, we still understand the drive to crown winners. And so, at its root, we dig competitive shows in fields we like, like food.
At the bottom of the food chain we have Fox's Hell's Kitchen, where the crass and talentless battle for the grudging respect of abusive father-figure Gordon Ramsay. A huge step of dignity above that we have Food Network's Next Food Network Star, where people who actually know how to cook get to compete for a spot in Prime Time (while wondering how the hell plastic Stepford Wives like Sandra Lee and Ingrid Hoffman somehow managed to avoid any screening process whatsoever). A giant leap of talent above that we find Bravo's Top Chef, where some really talented people (who seem to have somehow weaseled enough time off from their top jobs to jet off to wherever the show is being filmed for, what, six weeks?) compete for prestige and money. And then supposedly at around the same level (though theoretically a touch higher), we have The Next Iron Chef, where (again, in theory) America's top chefs compete to show that they have what it takes to be the next Iron Chef America.
And here's the thing: they're all graded the same. In each show, there's usually some sort of challenge, some kind of prize (or immunity from elimination), and then another challenge, following which a panel of judges (or Ramsay, in the first show) lauds some of the competitors and lambastes the others. And inevitably, during the dress-down, somebody says, "We think we could be seeing more out of you."
Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? In Hell's Kitchen, this makes sense but if you, the producers, have already gathered a crack team of professionals to compete with each other for the creme de la creme spot, why the hell are your judges criticizing them like they're teenagers on pep squad? If I were a chef on such a show (and I know that I am not), I'd be tempted to tell them to shove my potential where the sun don't shine.
You know whom the judges on TNIC could take a page from? The actual judges on ICA. I don't always agree with them, but at least their comments are (usually) on target for the show: the flavor didn't come out, this didn't work, it was too salty, or my god, what made you think this would work as ice cream?
And this, I understand, is why I am not the target demographic.
Let's back up. The original Iron Chef (OIC) program, in Japan, certainly had its own roster replacements, which is how Iron Chef America's (ICA) Masaharu Morimoto got his start on the show. When OIC needed new Iron Chefs, however, they went about it through the Old Boy network: the producers either asked chefs they knew (this is how Sakai became IC French) or they asked the retiring chefs to make recommendations (this is how Koumei Nakamura became IC Japan). There was no competition for the role, and if there had been, it wouldn't have been show on TV. This was strictly professionals at work; even getting invited as a Challenger meant that you'd already been vetted by the profession at large.
Of course, we Americans loathe the OB network (unless we went to Harvard, and then we don't understand why everyone distrusts the Skull & Bones Society or the Bohemian Grove), and we love competitions. Even if we find Survivor and American Idol distasteful on an aesthetic, moral, and ethical level, hey, we still understand the drive to crown winners. And so, at its root, we dig competitive shows in fields we like, like food.
At the bottom of the food chain we have Fox's Hell's Kitchen, where the crass and talentless battle for the grudging respect of abusive father-figure Gordon Ramsay. A huge step of dignity above that we have Food Network's Next Food Network Star, where people who actually know how to cook get to compete for a spot in Prime Time (while wondering how the hell plastic Stepford Wives like Sandra Lee and Ingrid Hoffman somehow managed to avoid any screening process whatsoever). A giant leap of talent above that we find Bravo's Top Chef, where some really talented people (who seem to have somehow weaseled enough time off from their top jobs to jet off to wherever the show is being filmed for, what, six weeks?) compete for prestige and money. And then supposedly at around the same level (though theoretically a touch higher), we have The Next Iron Chef, where (again, in theory) America's top chefs compete to show that they have what it takes to be the next Iron Chef America.
And here's the thing: they're all graded the same. In each show, there's usually some sort of challenge, some kind of prize (or immunity from elimination), and then another challenge, following which a panel of judges (or Ramsay, in the first show) lauds some of the competitors and lambastes the others. And inevitably, during the dress-down, somebody says, "We think we could be seeing more out of you."
Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? In Hell's Kitchen, this makes sense but if you, the producers, have already gathered a crack team of professionals to compete with each other for the creme de la creme spot, why the hell are your judges criticizing them like they're teenagers on pep squad? If I were a chef on such a show (and I know that I am not), I'd be tempted to tell them to shove my potential where the sun don't shine.
You know whom the judges on TNIC could take a page from? The actual judges on ICA. I don't always agree with them, but at least their comments are (usually) on target for the show: the flavor didn't come out, this didn't work, it was too salty, or my god, what made you think this would work as ice cream?
And this, I understand, is why I am not the target demographic.
Short Review: Black Sheep (No Spoilers)
You can count on one hand the kinds of horror movies worth watching. There are horror movies that are genuinely scary (John Carpenter's The Thing), horror movies that are so unintentionally bad that they're great (Resident Evil), and horror movies that set out from the beginning to be bad and succeed in thoughtful, intelligent ways (Feast, Shaun of the Dead, Planet Terror). New Zealand, by way of that schlock auteur Peter Jackson, has a mighty reputation for producing oodles of the third kind, so it takes a certain kind of chutzpah, nay, testicular fortitude of ram-like proportions to attempt to take up the challenge of continuing the hirsute master's tradition.
Black Sheep does not disappoint.
The only caveat I extend here is that there is a lot of gore in this film. A lot of gore. More explicit gore than a half-hour of The Inconvenient Truth. Gore on top of gore and then some. Did I mention the gore? Can't see how I couldn't. Oh, yes, and gore.
That said, and now that you know not to eat a nice veal parmesan on a bed of tomato sauce pasta before seeing this, two hooves up.
Black Sheep does not disappoint.
The only caveat I extend here is that there is a lot of gore in this film. A lot of gore. More explicit gore than a half-hour of The Inconvenient Truth. Gore on top of gore and then some. Did I mention the gore? Can't see how I couldn't. Oh, yes, and gore.
That said, and now that you know not to eat a nice veal parmesan on a bed of tomato sauce pasta before seeing this, two hooves up.
10.07.2007
Blue Angels
One of the joys of working in a tall, recognizable building away from where the rest of the tall, recognizable buildings are clustered in San Francisco is that the Blue Angels use our building as marker when they're practicing their aerobatics for Fleet Week. So, after work, a bunch of us went up on the roof and watched them cavort. Clicking the on images will open bigger versions where you can just about make out the dots/airplanes.
I also took some vids (all in .mov format, 300-500kb each):
Just as we were coming out of the door onto the roof, the Blue Angels flew by really close (well, in the greater scheme of things, sorta close), and the noise was so sudden and so loud that I reflexively crouched and covered my head. Two things: first, pretty quick for a 37 year old desk jockey(!); and second, if that's what it's like when you _know_ they're friendly, I'd hate to ever encounter them if they were hostile.
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I also took some vids (all in .mov format, 300-500kb each):
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Just as we were coming out of the door onto the roof, the Blue Angels flew by really close (well, in the greater scheme of things, sorta close), and the noise was so sudden and so loud that I reflexively crouched and covered my head. Two things: first, pretty quick for a 37 year old desk jockey(!); and second, if that's what it's like when you _know_ they're friendly, I'd hate to ever encounter them if they were hostile.
Whole Foods: Dirty Tricks
Whole Foods has finally come through on their promise to open a branch in Oakland (in an oddly convenient spot on Bay Place, that odd little curve where 27th St. leaves Harrison on its way to meet Grand Ave), and it is glorious in its scope and selection. We picked up five different kinds of sausages (one sausage each, an ingenious way to sell the buggers so that you don't end up with four of the same kind and realize that you hate the taste after the first), four kinds of wine we'd not tried, two new kinds of beer (well, one, really, a new Hitachino, but finding Ruination IPA in six-pack bottles is a new revelation).
On the way back to the car (parked on the roof parking, a lot of spaces and yet still full; these problems follow WF), we noticed their secret weapon:
That's a vent pumping air from the store outside. The intake, it turns out, is conveniently close to the take-away section, where they're selling Everett & Jones BBQ.
Welcome to air-saturation marketing.
On the way back to the car (parked on the roof parking, a lot of spaces and yet still full; these problems follow WF), we noticed their secret weapon:
That's a vent pumping air from the store outside. The intake, it turns out, is conveniently close to the take-away section, where they're selling Everett & Jones BBQ.
Welcome to air-saturation marketing.
10.04.2007
The Dark Has, er, Rose
I became a Susan Cooper fan rather later in life than most people, and I think this was a good thing as I was therefore better equipped to appreciate the pagan and Celtic references throughout her The Dark Is Rising series. I really enjoyed the series, and I recommend it to people looking for a more serious look at a magickal world than Madame Rowling's offerings.
In the wake of the success of LOTR, Harry Potter, and Eragon, of course, it seemed inevitable that some studio would dust off the 30-year old series and take a crack at it. Well, the reviews have begun trickling in, and this one (2.4mb mp3) from TripleJ's Film Guide podcast is not favorable. Ah, well.
In the wake of the success of LOTR, Harry Potter, and Eragon, of course, it seemed inevitable that some studio would dust off the 30-year old series and take a crack at it. Well, the reviews have begun trickling in, and this one (2.4mb mp3) from TripleJ's Film Guide podcast is not favorable. Ah, well.
10.03.2007
Burma: Continuing Tragedy
Although the protests appear to be over, the news continues to be bad. First, it's hard to believe that the military junta's statement that it intends to move over 4,000 monks to prisons in the north (BBC) doesn't actually mean that it intends to move the monks north so it can murder them and bury them in mass graves out from under the watchful eyes of the Western media; let's be clear, these people have committed mass murders in the past, and 4,000 monks is less than a blip on their radar. Second, when the UN sent an envoy to talk to the leaders of the junta, they first made him attend "a seminar in the far northern Shan state on EU relations with Southeast Asia" (NPR). Third, the junta has begun abducting people (including UN staff) at night (NY Times); while some have been released, that's no guarantee of safety for anyone else.
The thing is, no one in the neighborhood seems to be concerned with doing anything about it, and the US has tied itself down in Iraq too deep to be of any real consequence. For those of you who think it might do some good, here's a link to the US Campaign for Burma website; I don't know that threatening to boycot the Beijing Olympics is going to have the effect they think it's going to have, but I understand their passion and their desire to do something about the situation.
Just please, please keep Burma in your thoughts.
The thing is, no one in the neighborhood seems to be concerned with doing anything about it, and the US has tied itself down in Iraq too deep to be of any real consequence. For those of you who think it might do some good, here's a link to the US Campaign for Burma website; I don't know that threatening to boycot the Beijing Olympics is going to have the effect they think it's going to have, but I understand their passion and their desire to do something about the situation.
Just please, please keep Burma in your thoughts.
10.02.2007
The Bet, and Exceptions
World-class Internet superstars ![[info]](http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
tongodeon and rwx have a bet on whether the Furry subculture will shed its "sub" culture and become mainstream by 2009. As proof of the bet being lost or not, both of these worthies occasionally post Furriies-in-the-media-related material.
As a former resident of Japan, I would argue that people in animal suits in commercial promotions no more constitute the mainstreaming of furries than, say, the use of corporate mascots to sell fast food encourages people to dress like Jack-in-the-Box and the Burger King in their bedrooms (and yes, you're welcome for that horrible, horrible image). That said, this particular commercial is cute (and features people dressed up in animal costumes).
tongodeon and rwx have a bet on whether the Furry subculture will shed its "sub" culture and become mainstream by 2009. As proof of the bet being lost or not, both of these worthies occasionally post Furriies-in-the-media-related material.As a former resident of Japan, I would argue that people in animal suits in commercial promotions no more constitute the mainstreaming of furries than, say, the use of corporate mascots to sell fast food encourages people to dress like Jack-in-the-Box and the Burger King in their bedrooms (and yes, you're welcome for that horrible, horrible image). That said, this particular commercial is cute (and features people dressed up in animal costumes).
9.28.2007
Burma: Continued
With almost shockingly depressing predictability, the Burmese government has not reacted calmly or with restraint to the protests. In addition to the nine Burmese whom the government admit killing, police have apparently shot and killed Japanese journalist Kenji Nagai on camera. Mr. Nagai was 50 years old and "armed" only with a camera.
<rant>It's great that Bush has called for freezing assets of some of the military leaders, but this is only a small step. The PRC and Russia very much do not want intervention in or even actual, binding sanctions against Burma because of fears that this would set a precedent for interfering with the PRC's own conflicts in Tibet, the northwest, and its fallacious claim of sovereignty over Taiwan, or Russia's claims against Chechnya (and possible aggression against Georgia). If Bush wants to show his resolute support for democracy (and after all, that's why we're in Iraq, innit?), unilateral sanctions might not be enough. Trade sanctions on nations that do business with the military junta in Burma, however, might. The PRC is not just a market of a billion customers; it's also an economy pumping out a lot of product to unload in Wal*Mart, and if we would just take a stand and smack them in the wallets, we might actually get something accomplished.</rant>
What we're not going to get accomplished, however, is the resurrection of Kenji Nagai or the nine Burmese the government admits to killing so far. However, we can aim to get them some justice.
The Larkin Express deli, on Larkin, across from the Federal building in SF, was taken over by a very nice Burmese family about a year ago or so. I spoke briefly with the owner this afternoon, and he says it's incredibly hard to get any news right now; hopefully, the recent reinstatement of the Internet connection to Burma will help with that. He also passes on a rumor that one of the generals in charge of the security forces in Rangoon resigned when it became apparent that the junta planned to crack down violently on the protesters; he points out that any crack in the military is a good sign. I hope he's right. In the meantime, keep Burma in your thoughts.
<rant>It's great that Bush has called for freezing assets of some of the military leaders, but this is only a small step. The PRC and Russia very much do not want intervention in or even actual, binding sanctions against Burma because of fears that this would set a precedent for interfering with the PRC's own conflicts in Tibet, the northwest, and its fallacious claim of sovereignty over Taiwan, or Russia's claims against Chechnya (and possible aggression against Georgia). If Bush wants to show his resolute support for democracy (and after all, that's why we're in Iraq, innit?), unilateral sanctions might not be enough. Trade sanctions on nations that do business with the military junta in Burma, however, might. The PRC is not just a market of a billion customers; it's also an economy pumping out a lot of product to unload in Wal*Mart, and if we would just take a stand and smack them in the wallets, we might actually get something accomplished.</rant>
What we're not going to get accomplished, however, is the resurrection of Kenji Nagai or the nine Burmese the government admits to killing so far. However, we can aim to get them some justice.
The Larkin Express deli, on Larkin, across from the Federal building in SF, was taken over by a very nice Burmese family about a year ago or so. I spoke briefly with the owner this afternoon, and he says it's incredibly hard to get any news right now; hopefully, the recent reinstatement of the Internet connection to Burma will help with that. He also passes on a rumor that one of the generals in charge of the security forces in Rangoon resigned when it became apparent that the junta planned to crack down violently on the protesters; he points out that any crack in the military is a good sign. I hope he's right. In the meantime, keep Burma in your thoughts.
9.23.2007
Burma, Shaved
Attn: people interested in Political Science: fix your eyes on Burma/Myanmar, where an astounding march of around 20,000 Buddhist monks (and nuns) met to pray with the democratically elected leader, Suu Kyi, at the house where she's been under house arrest since 2003. So far, the military junta has not taken any drastic measure to curb the monks, which might be viewed as either a sign of lack of resolve or a willingness to consider the end of military rule (don't hold your breath for the latter).
The situation in Burma/Myanmar is made all the more interesting in light of the recent indictment in Cambodia of Nuon Chea, sometimes called Brother Number Two, on charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity. The leaders of Burma's military junta must be wondering which way things will go if they surrender power to the civilians: will it be the Reconciliation of South Africa or the trials of Cambodia? There is no doubt that the junta has done terrible things to stay in power; dare they risk returning power at this point? Ever? Do they have a choice?
The situation in Burma/Myanmar is made all the more interesting in light of the recent indictment in Cambodia of Nuon Chea, sometimes called Brother Number Two, on charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity. The leaders of Burma's military junta must be wondering which way things will go if they surrender power to the civilians: will it be the Reconciliation of South Africa or the trials of Cambodia? There is no doubt that the junta has done terrible things to stay in power; dare they risk returning power at this point? Ever? Do they have a choice?
9.17.2007
Roman Meshon, 1971-2007
On Monday, September 17, late in the afternoon, Japan time, my friend of 14 years died in a surfing accident. Roman was 36, recently re-married, and, after a series of adventures and misadventures, was running a rather successful English school in a rural part of Kochi, Japan.
I caught up with him near the beginning of my last trip back, during Yosakoi, a local festival. He told me he had volunteered to follow these beautiful dancers around and pick up the various pins and tchotchkes that fell out of their hair while they danced; it was classic Roman, one part generosity, one part lecherous con, and the girls loved him for it. We'd meant to get together again later in the trip, but, alas, he had to go get married in Hawaii. What are you gonna do?
Roman came to Kochi in July, 1994. He was already amazing at Japanese (he'd actually studied at Kansai GaiDai, the same school Yoko got her B.A. in English from), and it just kept getting better. Although his first year didn't work out that well, he came back the next year and got a job working for a local education office in Noichi. It was in Noichi that he discovered his two lifelong passions: the accordion and Chindon. Roman was so in love with Chindon that he often talked his friends (including me) into dressing up in clown costumes and drag and parading around in Chindon competitions across Shikoku, and he was quite often upset when our innovative performances lost out to more traditional (yet doubtlessly less talented) troupes. He was so infamous for tricking people into doing Chindon that his sales pitch ("We're having a party, it'll be great, everyone will be there, you'll love it!") became a sort of question/response chorus whenever any of the rest of us threw a party.
In 1998, Roman, along with our buddy Michael Kahn, organized a trip across the American Southwest for a bunch of farmers from Kagami Town (where Ro was living at the time) and Kagami Village (where Michael Kahn still lives), and he asked me to help chaperone ("It'll be great (true), everyone will be there (mostly farmers' wives in their 60s), you'll love it (true)!"). He was right; we had a blast, even when one old fellow (a farmer and former agronomist who had studied in Cuba for a couple of years in the late 60s) decided he didn't like the tour guide and decided to hike home... in the middle of Monument Valley... in August. It was on that same trip that I got to meet Steve and Nancy Meshon, Roman's parents, two lovely people.
I spoke to Steve this morning, when I found out, and he's taking the news about as well as anyone can take the news of the death of one's son.
It's too close. This has been hugely therapeutic, but it's still too close.
We miss you already, Roman. I'm listening to Polkacide as I write this, Ro, as I know you'd want me to, and then I'll play the Gogol Bordello you quoted in your last email to me, two weeks ago. And then I'll miss you some more.
I caught up with him near the beginning of my last trip back, during Yosakoi, a local festival. He told me he had volunteered to follow these beautiful dancers around and pick up the various pins and tchotchkes that fell out of their hair while they danced; it was classic Roman, one part generosity, one part lecherous con, and the girls loved him for it. We'd meant to get together again later in the trip, but, alas, he had to go get married in Hawaii. What are you gonna do?
Roman came to Kochi in July, 1994. He was already amazing at Japanese (he'd actually studied at Kansai GaiDai, the same school Yoko got her B.A. in English from), and it just kept getting better. Although his first year didn't work out that well, he came back the next year and got a job working for a local education office in Noichi. It was in Noichi that he discovered his two lifelong passions: the accordion and Chindon. Roman was so in love with Chindon that he often talked his friends (including me) into dressing up in clown costumes and drag and parading around in Chindon competitions across Shikoku, and he was quite often upset when our innovative performances lost out to more traditional (yet doubtlessly less talented) troupes. He was so infamous for tricking people into doing Chindon that his sales pitch ("We're having a party, it'll be great, everyone will be there, you'll love it!") became a sort of question/response chorus whenever any of the rest of us threw a party.
In 1998, Roman, along with our buddy Michael Kahn, organized a trip across the American Southwest for a bunch of farmers from Kagami Town (where Ro was living at the time) and Kagami Village (where Michael Kahn still lives), and he asked me to help chaperone ("It'll be great (true), everyone will be there (mostly farmers' wives in their 60s), you'll love it (true)!"). He was right; we had a blast, even when one old fellow (a farmer and former agronomist who had studied in Cuba for a couple of years in the late 60s) decided he didn't like the tour guide and decided to hike home... in the middle of Monument Valley... in August. It was on that same trip that I got to meet Steve and Nancy Meshon, Roman's parents, two lovely people.
I spoke to Steve this morning, when I found out, and he's taking the news about as well as anyone can take the news of the death of one's son.
It's too close. This has been hugely therapeutic, but it's still too close.
We miss you already, Roman. I'm listening to Polkacide as I write this, Ro, as I know you'd want me to, and then I'll play the Gogol Bordello you quoted in your last email to me, two weeks ago. And then I'll miss you some more.
8.28.2007
You Know, I've Met This One, I Think
And so have you.
Just heard Soko singing "I'll Kill Her" (.mp3) on TripleJ.
Representative lyrics:
You know, it's times like these I really don't miss the dating scene.
Just heard Soko singing "I'll Kill Her" (.mp3) on TripleJ.
Representative lyrics:
I thought it was a love story,
But you don’t want to get involved
I thought it was a love story,
But you’re not ready for that,
Me neither. I’ll kill her,
She stole my future, she broke my dream,
I’ll kill her, I’ll kill her,
She stole my future when she took you away
You know, it's times like these I really don't miss the dating scene.
8.23.2007
Guzen/Serendipity
A lot of my better experiences in Kochi have been more the result of happy accident than careful planning. Last night, Tuesday, was a case in point. After dinner in town, Yoko and her mom and sister were ready to go home and crash. I was not, so I bid them farewell and took off down a random drinking street. I had a plan, originally, but I just couldn't muster the enthusiasm for it, so I kept on walking. After a number of random turns, I decided to look up one of my old haunts, a tiny hole-in-the-wall called WipeOut. I found it, and yet, for some reason, I just couldn't go in; the mood just wasn't there for me. So I turned around and surveyed the other options on the street. Let's see: classic Izakaya, chain Izakaya, Snack, Snack, Snack, and... an unattractive doorway leading to stairs heading down into, well, something. Posted next to the doorway were three over-photocopied posters advertising either Death Metal or an S&M club. Just then, a dozen punks clad in black streamed out of the place to smoke. Hell, why not, I thought, and I headed down the stairs.
Downstairs was a tiny record store-cum-club. They'd literally rolled the racks of merchandise out of the way so as to make room for the bands. I was about to grab a beer when a tall, thin Japanese punk with streaked hair grabbed my shoulder. "Erikku!" he shouted, and I recognized him as Hiroshi, a guy I used to hang out with ten years ago. We exchanged greetings, recent history, quick talk, then he ran outside to smoke. Hiroshi was in a Hardcore band with my buddies Doi and Soichi back in the day; their band, Insane Youth, played the kind of Thrash/Noise Metal that split eardrums and induced seizures. If Hiroshi was here, I knew I was in for a treat. I went to the back of the room (you know, about ten feet from the stage, if that) and leaned against a merch storage cabinet. After a bit, who popped up on stage but Hiroshi and a new band. They ran through the sound checks, then it was "Hey! Heeey!" and the music kicked off.
I only stuck around for Hiroshi's 3 or 4 song set (it gets hard to tell when they've switched songs), and then I moved off into the night. On my way out, I got this picture with a random German dude whose Hardcore band was touring the rest of urban Japan and somehow ended up in Kochi:
I wandered on to a place called:
American Casual Bar
BOSTON CAFE
I'd never been in before, but it seemed like the night for it. Inside, the space is small; there's a bar and just enough room left over for a couple of tables. Let's face it, if the Red Sox came to party, there wouldn't be enough room left over for the Yankees to join them, and that's okay, because the owner is a huge Red Sox fan and not inclined to let the Yankees in anyway. Boston Cafe embodies the difference between a Kochi bar and a Tokyo bar: the former is a single human being's dream brought to life in wood and booze and held together through good times and bad by a stubborn refusal to accept that as a business, bars are not a good bet; the latter usually starts out as the same expression of a dream but fails when the owner fails to muster the kind of stubbornness that Kochi praises as a homegrown virtue. I asked the owner if he'd ever been to Boston or a Red Sox game, and he sighed and said, No, but I want to.
Let me repeat that: he's never even been to one of their games, but he built a bar based on his love for them.
I had a drink and chatted some more, and then a rather obnoxious old fart and his young girlfriend came in, and I knew it was time to move on. I wandered toward home and stopped in at one more bar along the way: Fancy Labo Ring, owned and run since 1995 by a guy I've been buying drinks from since the first week I was in Kochi (in 1993), Hiroshi Taniai. Hiroshi's a jolly little rotund fellow with a heart bigger than a house and a love for jazz that's only matched by his love of the drinking business. He told me that August is slow for live gigs, but he packs them in from September on. It's a big place, and the beers are cold. What more do you want, really?
Downstairs was a tiny record store-cum-club. They'd literally rolled the racks of merchandise out of the way so as to make room for the bands. I was about to grab a beer when a tall, thin Japanese punk with streaked hair grabbed my shoulder. "Erikku!" he shouted, and I recognized him as Hiroshi, a guy I used to hang out with ten years ago. We exchanged greetings, recent history, quick talk, then he ran outside to smoke. Hiroshi was in a Hardcore band with my buddies Doi and Soichi back in the day; their band, Insane Youth, played the kind of Thrash/Noise Metal that split eardrums and induced seizures. If Hiroshi was here, I knew I was in for a treat. I went to the back of the room (you know, about ten feet from the stage, if that) and leaned against a merch storage cabinet. After a bit, who popped up on stage but Hiroshi and a new band. They ran through the sound checks, then it was "Hey! Heeey!" and the music kicked off.
 |  |
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 (.3gp video, 1.7mb, no sound) |
I only stuck around for Hiroshi's 3 or 4 song set (it gets hard to tell when they've switched songs), and then I moved off into the night. On my way out, I got this picture with a random German dude whose Hardcore band was touring the rest of urban Japan and somehow ended up in Kochi:
 |
I wandered on to a place called:
American Casual Bar
BOSTON CAFE
 |  |  |  |
I'd never been in before, but it seemed like the night for it. Inside, the space is small; there's a bar and just enough room left over for a couple of tables. Let's face it, if the Red Sox came to party, there wouldn't be enough room left over for the Yankees to join them, and that's okay, because the owner is a huge Red Sox fan and not inclined to let the Yankees in anyway. Boston Cafe embodies the difference between a Kochi bar and a Tokyo bar: the former is a single human being's dream brought to life in wood and booze and held together through good times and bad by a stubborn refusal to accept that as a business, bars are not a good bet; the latter usually starts out as the same expression of a dream but fails when the owner fails to muster the kind of stubbornness that Kochi praises as a homegrown virtue. I asked the owner if he'd ever been to Boston or a Red Sox game, and he sighed and said, No, but I want to.
Let me repeat that: he's never even been to one of their games, but he built a bar based on his love for them.
I had a drink and chatted some more, and then a rather obnoxious old fart and his young girlfriend came in, and I knew it was time to move on. I wandered toward home and stopped in at one more bar along the way: Fancy Labo Ring, owned and run since 1995 by a guy I've been buying drinks from since the first week I was in Kochi (in 1993), Hiroshi Taniai. Hiroshi's a jolly little rotund fellow with a heart bigger than a house and a love for jazz that's only matched by his love of the drinking business. He told me that August is slow for live gigs, but he packs them in from September on. It's a big place, and the beers are cold. What more do you want, really?
 |  |  |
8.20.2007
Ego
Came to Japan on 8/5 and stopped shaving soon after.
(Yes, I'm wearing the same shirt in all four of those pictures. I've done laundry, really.)
Tomorrow, I have an appointment with the venerable Mr. Yasmashita, Sr. Yamashita-san runs a barber shop in Kami-machi, 1-chome, and while he's not averse to using scissors, his specialty is the straight razor. The man is amazing and hugely experienced, and it's an honor to be able to sit down in his chair and put my throat (and life) in his hands. I've been visiting Mr. Yamashita since 1995; I would have used him for my wedding haircut, but he was out of town at the time.
There's a certain comfort in being able to visit a place years later and recognize people (and have them recognize me). I think a lot of people take this sort of thing for granted: in fact, for many people, that sense of familiarity can be a little suffocating, which is why so many people visit their hometowns only occasionally. I grew up moving around, however, so Kochi is as close to a hometown as I have; perhaps my fondness is greater for this place because I established my roots here as an adult.
Or perhaps I'm just waxing melodramatic because it's hot outside. Regardless, I've got a good haircut and shave on my horizon.
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(Yes, I'm wearing the same shirt in all four of those pictures. I've done laundry, really.)
Tomorrow, I have an appointment with the venerable Mr. Yasmashita, Sr. Yamashita-san runs a barber shop in Kami-machi, 1-chome, and while he's not averse to using scissors, his specialty is the straight razor. The man is amazing and hugely experienced, and it's an honor to be able to sit down in his chair and put my throat (and life) in his hands. I've been visiting Mr. Yamashita since 1995; I would have used him for my wedding haircut, but he was out of town at the time.
There's a certain comfort in being able to visit a place years later and recognize people (and have them recognize me). I think a lot of people take this sort of thing for granted: in fact, for many people, that sense of familiarity can be a little suffocating, which is why so many people visit their hometowns only occasionally. I grew up moving around, however, so Kochi is as close to a hometown as I have; perhaps my fondness is greater for this place because I established my roots here as an adult.
Or perhaps I'm just waxing melodramatic because it's hot outside. Regardless, I've got a good haircut and shave on my horizon.
8.19.2007
A Hot Day
There's hot, and then there's Kochi hot: 1:30 in the afternoon, stuck in the sun, 37 degrees C, humidity in the ridiculous numbers. But of course, there's a story in that, and, like many stories, it begins before the fun.
A lot of my faithful readers will already be familiar with so-called "wasei-eigo," or Engrish, particularly those forms of the art having to do with t-shirts or the spontaneous poetry that adorns drink containers and candy boxes. So it will come as no surprise that at least one of my friends requested a t-shirt with such on it as omiyage. Easily done, I thought, but I was wrong, see, because I failed to take into account that truly fashionable young Japanese folks would much rather have authentic t-shirts from America than designs from J-corporations trying to cash in on a trend. As a result, the anti-fashion fashionable street of Kochi is a mecca of recycled t-shirts from the States. Ever wonder where your Junior High School softball team's excess shirts ended up? Try CHAOS, a veritable storehouse of yesteryear's promotional t-shirts. Want an authentic Red Hot Chili Peppers or Harley Davidson t-shirt? Can't swing a dead hipster on Obi-san Road without hitting at least one store stocked to the brim.
This in the same town where I once saw, prominently displayed in place of pride in a store's window, a t-shirt that read, "Have you ever seen a grown man naked?" You can now truly appreciate my surprise.
Despairing, I turned to a friend (over sake and cigars whose origins I'm not at liberty to disclose) and asked, where's a man to find his ridiculous misuses of English these days? He nodded sagely and told me to get me hence to Aoyama, a men's fashion boutique (and chain store) out on the Tosa Doro (a kind of main artery for traffic avoiding downtown).
And so, on Friday, I set off on a borrowed mama-chari (a grandma-style bicycle with a basket on the front) for Aoyama on Tosa Doro. Along the way, it being hotter than I really care to repeat, I stopped in at a supermarket to buy a bottle of water. Turns out they were selling cases of the stuff (six bottles to a case) as a bargain, so I put six liters of water in the basket and rode my way down the road. I was over a bridge and coming down on Tosa Doro rather quickly when I realized that my back tire was flat. Well, now, Aoyama was just around the corner, so I pushed the bicycle on.
Thing is, I couldn't see an Aoyama. I did, however, see a store called Ookii Size (Big Size); it seemed a promising substitute, so I went in. Turns out, it really is a store for the plus-sized Japanese man, which means that nothing there is smaller than the equivalent of an American XL (in Japanese: 3L). As a seven-footer with a 40-inch waist, I assure you, if this store had been around when I was in Kochi, I'd've bought everything there. As it was, I saw some great "wasei-eigo" samples, but the person I was shopping for is, at best, an L, not a 3L. No luck.
Back out into the heat. Apart from being a place of questionable fashions, the other distinguishing characteristic of Japan is that you usually can't spit without hitting a bicycle repair shop. This is understandable, since the lowly bicycle is the single most popular form of mechanical transport in Japan. And so I had great hopes that I'd be a mere five minutes in the sun before finding somewhere to fill my tire and move on. Within three, I found a scooter shop, that oddball cousin of the bicycle shop. The propietor had a hand pump he was more than happy to lend me, but he pointed out that the entire tire was old, cracked, and probably not suitable for its original intended use any further. He also helpfully pointed out that there was a bicycle shop a kilometer down the road.
And so I pushed that bicycle, and the still-heavy six liters of water, down the road, around the corner, and always, always under the beating, merciless sun. I paused to get a bottle of Pocarri Sweat (look, this isn't the time to ask), and you may be able to appreciate that I had to take pictures of the following to make sure I wasn't hallucinating:
Back in the sun, I pushed on, until I came to the entrance to a temple. Hot, sweaty, tired, I told myself I'd be back to take pictures, but excuses like that don't sit well when you're honest with yourself, and I knew then that if I didn't go in, I'd not come back. So I parked the useless bicycle on the side of the road, the box of bottles of water still in the basket, and I went on in. I didn't even bother to lock the bicycle; no need, and no real point.
I left the temple grounds much cooler and much more centered, and my bicycle was just where I left it. I pushed on a little more, and sure enough, there was the bicycle repair shop. I negotiated a fee for replacing the tire entirely, then sat down with my box of water bottles by the edge of the river, in the shade, and watched the parade of life ride by, including this fellow:
Will you forgive me, dear readers, for humming the theme from CHiPs as he went by?
A lot of my faithful readers will already be familiar with so-called "wasei-eigo," or Engrish, particularly those forms of the art having to do with t-shirts or the spontaneous poetry that adorns drink containers and candy boxes. So it will come as no surprise that at least one of my friends requested a t-shirt with such on it as omiyage. Easily done, I thought, but I was wrong, see, because I failed to take into account that truly fashionable young Japanese folks would much rather have authentic t-shirts from America than designs from J-corporations trying to cash in on a trend. As a result, the anti-fashion fashionable street of Kochi is a mecca of recycled t-shirts from the States. Ever wonder where your Junior High School softball team's excess shirts ended up? Try CHAOS, a veritable storehouse of yesteryear's promotional t-shirts. Want an authentic Red Hot Chili Peppers or Harley Davidson t-shirt? Can't swing a dead hipster on Obi-san Road without hitting at least one store stocked to the brim.
This in the same town where I once saw, prominently displayed in place of pride in a store's window, a t-shirt that read, "Have you ever seen a grown man naked?" You can now truly appreciate my surprise.
Despairing, I turned to a friend (over sake and cigars whose origins I'm not at liberty to disclose) and asked, where's a man to find his ridiculous misuses of English these days? He nodded sagely and told me to get me hence to Aoyama, a men's fashion boutique (and chain store) out on the Tosa Doro (a kind of main artery for traffic avoiding downtown).
And so, on Friday, I set off on a borrowed mama-chari (a grandma-style bicycle with a basket on the front) for Aoyama on Tosa Doro. Along the way, it being hotter than I really care to repeat, I stopped in at a supermarket to buy a bottle of water. Turns out they were selling cases of the stuff (six bottles to a case) as a bargain, so I put six liters of water in the basket and rode my way down the road. I was over a bridge and coming down on Tosa Doro rather quickly when I realized that my back tire was flat. Well, now, Aoyama was just around the corner, so I pushed the bicycle on.
Thing is, I couldn't see an Aoyama. I did, however, see a store called Ookii Size (Big Size); it seemed a promising substitute, so I went in. Turns out, it really is a store for the plus-sized Japanese man, which means that nothing there is smaller than the equivalent of an American XL (in Japanese: 3L). As a seven-footer with a 40-inch waist, I assure you, if this store had been around when I was in Kochi, I'd've bought everything there. As it was, I saw some great "wasei-eigo" samples, but the person I was shopping for is, at best, an L, not a 3L. No luck.
Back out into the heat. Apart from being a place of questionable fashions, the other distinguishing characteristic of Japan is that you usually can't spit without hitting a bicycle repair shop. This is understandable, since the lowly bicycle is the single most popular form of mechanical transport in Japan. And so I had great hopes that I'd be a mere five minutes in the sun before finding somewhere to fill my tire and move on. Within three, I found a scooter shop, that oddball cousin of the bicycle shop. The propietor had a hand pump he was more than happy to lend me, but he pointed out that the entire tire was old, cracked, and probably not suitable for its original intended use any further. He also helpfully pointed out that there was a bicycle shop a kilometer down the road.
And so I pushed that bicycle, and the still-heavy six liters of water, down the road, around the corner, and always, always under the beating, merciless sun. I paused to get a bottle of Pocarri Sweat (look, this isn't the time to ask), and you may be able to appreciate that I had to take pictures of the following to make sure I wasn't hallucinating:
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Back in the sun, I pushed on, until I came to the entrance to a temple. Hot, sweaty, tired, I told myself I'd be back to take pictures, but excuses like that don't sit well when you're honest with yourself, and I knew then that if I didn't go in, I'd not come back. So I parked the useless bicycle on the side of the road, the box of bottles of water still in the basket, and I went on in. I didn't even bother to lock the bicycle; no need, and no real point.
 |  |  |  |
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I left the temple grounds much cooler and much more centered, and my bicycle was just where I left it. I pushed on a little more, and sure enough, there was the bicycle repair shop. I negotiated a fee for replacing the tire entirely, then sat down with my box of water bottles by the edge of the river, in the shade, and watched the parade of life ride by, including this fellow:
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Will you forgive me, dear readers, for humming the theme from CHiPs as he went by?
8.15.2007
And Another Thing
It's Thursday, now, which means that my vacation is nearly halfway over. What luxury, to have three weeks off, three glorious weeks to reacquaint myself with my home-away-from-home.
What I'm discovering mostly is just how small a world Kochi really encompasses. While at a tiny and remote beach yesterday, it turned out that the other party sharing the beach with us included a woman who went to Primary School with Yoko. I hadn't seen her in two years (and certainly not in a bathing suit), so it took me an embarassingly long time to recognize her. These things, it turns out, happen.
Let's see now, the water report:
So: eleven days in country (more like ten, really, when you consider that we arrived at 8 p.m. on Monday), and I've spent six of those days swimming. As vacations go, I think we can call this one a success. Keep your fingers crossed, though; there's still a chance that typhoon in Taiwan could jump north.
And here's a series of pictures of shopping in a mall in Japan:
What I'm discovering mostly is just how small a world Kochi really encompasses. While at a tiny and remote beach yesterday, it turned out that the other party sharing the beach with us included a woman who went to Primary School with Yoko. I hadn't seen her in two years (and certainly not in a bathing suit), so it took me an embarassingly long time to recognize her. These things, it turns out, happen.
Let's see now, the water report:
| Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday | Saturday |
| (Arr. Kochi) | (Arr. Nakamura) | Shimanto River | (Arr. Kochi) | Kagami River | Kagami River | |
| Niyodo River | (Heavy Rain) | Usa Beach | Usa Beach | (Writing this) |
So: eleven days in country (more like ten, really, when you consider that we arrived at 8 p.m. on Monday), and I've spent six of those days swimming. As vacations go, I think we can call this one a success. Keep your fingers crossed, though; there's still a chance that typhoon in Taiwan could jump north.
And here's a series of pictures of shopping in a mall in Japan:
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8.12.2007
A Dry Day
Today is Monday here in Japan, and in the week that I have been here, I have swum in rivers on more days than I have not. We arrived on Monday evening of last week, and I travelled down to my old stomping grounds in Nakamura on Tuesday, arriving around dinner time. On Wednesday, I went canoeing on the Shimanto. Thursday was another waterless day, and then on Friday I swam in the Kagami. On Saturday, I swam at another location on the Kagami, and yesterday I swam at an astoundingly clear point on the Niyodo. My arms ache, my legs ache from riding a bicycle too small for me, and my shoulders are just burnt enough to remind me to wear more sunscreen next time. Fortunately, it rained fit to drown a frog this morning, so I got to plead out of swimming again today.
We shall see what tomorrow brings.
It is hot and muggy here now, but still a little cooler and more bearable than Tokyo was. Mind you, it's still hot enough that riding a bicycle at noon is an exercise in dehydration, and, as if that were not enough warning, my wife's nephew's old schoolmate died of heastroke while practicing soccer last Monday. He was only 20, and no one really knows what to make of it, least of all Taka, my nephew.
In the midst of all this heat, it's also Yosakoi season. Yosakoi is an artificial tradition made up by merchants who sought to stir up businessness 150 years or so ago. They co-opted another made-up tradition about a fictional bridge in the heart of the city where a fictional monk gave a fictional hair-comb to a fictional geisha. After a hundred and fifty years of pushing this on people, however, it's become a tradition in its own right. Who's to say when the new-fangled gimmick becomes a classic, really?
We shall see what tomorrow brings.
It is hot and muggy here now, but still a little cooler and more bearable than Tokyo was. Mind you, it's still hot enough that riding a bicycle at noon is an exercise in dehydration, and, as if that were not enough warning, my wife's nephew's old schoolmate died of heastroke while practicing soccer last Monday. He was only 20, and no one really knows what to make of it, least of all Taka, my nephew.
In the midst of all this heat, it's also Yosakoi season. Yosakoi is an artificial tradition made up by merchants who sought to stir up businessness 150 years or so ago. They co-opted another made-up tradition about a fictional bridge in the heart of the city where a fictional monk gave a fictional hair-comb to a fictional geisha. After a hundred and fifty years of pushing this on people, however, it's become a tradition in its own right. Who's to say when the new-fangled gimmick becomes a classic, really?
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