Howard Dean

Took a brief look at Howard Dean's blog. So far, I'm not impressed with Dean - he's a blowhard, and pompous to boot. But his methods are of great interest - actually using the power of the Internet, rather than just talking about it. The future starts here! Others have commented as well. O Brave and Glorious New World!

For The Doubters Among Us, A Sign From God

Hallelujah!

Show Boat

Well we've opened "Show Boat" at DMTC. I'm scared witless through most of the show, because of all the various set changes that can go wrong. No one stepped on Audrey Green during the opening weekend, thank goodness, but Doug Ackermann got an ugly rip in his hand, so there is still plenty of stuff that can derail. Plus, next weekend, we have dread 'second Friday', when the overconfident typically have their lungs ripped out for them. I play nasty Pete Gavin in the first act, and pleasant Jake the piano player in the second act, plus random dancing guy in both acts, and all-around thruster of furniture. It's a nice show - I hope James Stark's photos turn out well - I'll post a few when they are ready!

Looting the Iraqi National Museum

Here is an excellent post by Joe Conason regarding this subject. It's important to kick Andrew Sullivan in the teeth on this subject. Both he and Charles Krauthammer have disgraced themselves by giving credence to pro-Administration spin, spin not based in fact, and thereby currying abject favor with the Pentagon. Kick them, and kick them again hard!

Guns in the Home

An interesting critique of a study regarding the dangers of having guns in the home.

People should judge for themselves if they need a gun. If I ran a convenience market, I would own one, but since I don't, I won't. Even though studies criticized here may be flawed, the conclusion may not necessarily be wrong. A gun in the house increases the odds (as yet undetermined) of gunplay by children, ill-advised stands against drive-by shooters, and impulsive suicides, and if the danger posed by criminals isn't that large, best not to have them at all.

My sister Michelle has guns in the home, but I worry that her son Aaron might fall victim to a gun-related accident. My sister is fully trained and responsible with her guns, keeping them locked up and all, but tragedy is always a possibility. It's hard to balance low-occurrence risks - intruder vs. accident - which is more likely? Seems to depend mostly on an person's circumstances. I think most TV-addled people tend to exaggerate the danger of an intruder, and end up putting themselves in unnecessary danger. Besides, typical, free-lance Bad Guys usually have the advantage of surprise - better to flee, if one can, or fork over the dough, than fumble with the locks and get shot in the process.

Nothing helps assess a risk better than asking questions. How many people actually know:

1.) someone who confronted an intruder in their home?
2.) someone who confronted the intruder with a gun?
3.) what happened then?
4.) someone who had to make a citizen's arrest, or otherwise confront someone in public, with a gun, or other armament?
5.) someone who got shot in their home, as a result of an accident, or suicide attempt, of some kind?
6.) someone who got held up in public, with a gun or other armament?

(I need to invest some time and figure out how to allow commenters to contribute their two cents, like many bloggers do).

My only actual experience is with #6. I started following six strange guys dressed like ninjas in my neighborhood, and behold, they had a gun and held me up. In that case, if I had had a gun, it could have turned out very bad for me. But everyone has their own tales.

Blogging

A fun little comment regarding blogging. Wasn't it Orwell who said that what the world needed wasn't new novels, but rather more almanacs filled with tables of accurate statistics? To me, that is something like the function of blogging - worm's eye views of the world. A way of assessing events large and small, with words and tables, and linking to others with similar interests. I worry that some people will use blogs just to parrot others, and repeat stale ideas (increasingly large chunks of the conservative blogosphere are like that), but that's just a hazard of life - there's always room for creative others, and presumably they will get attention. Only about 10% of anything is any good anyway.

Theater In Our Lives

I've had this idea bubbling in my mind for the last year or so, regarding the most important events of the 20th Century. The 20th Century was the busiest century ever, crammed with a multitude of activities and events. My idea is the most important activity the human race engaged in in the 20th Century was coming to terms with the impact of theater (acting, music, dance) in everyday life, especially (but not limited to) the role of romance, awakening people to the many potentials of life, and power relations (e.g., Hitler, after all, was an artist first). Fantasy became interwoven with daily life to an unprecedented extent (Madame Bovary was a premonition), most importantly through the medium of movies, but also through TV and radio (Argentina DOES cry for you, Evita). Theater was more important than ideology, inherited tradition, and even economic realities. OK....Whew! That's the BIG-THINK idea for today! I'm sure there is a book there - there may already be many books - but at least I burst that particular thought bubble.

Why Are Democrats So Stupid?

The whole issue of WMD is tailor-made for a political attack. I cannot believe the Democrats won't go for it. Arrgghhh! Maybe I should run for office instead of these clowns. Yesterday I had fun thrashing conservatives over WMD......

Showboat

"Showboat" opens at DMTC on June 20th. It should be interesting, but it's such a BIG show that I'm worried we may be too ambitious (well not THAT worried - we'll do OK)......

Embarrassment Of The Week

My dad used to mention that one of his old army buddies from Baker Co., 666th Field Artillery Battalion in WWII, Bert Quint, was the same Bert Quint who handled foreign affairs reporting for CBS News for so many years. I even mentioned the story to Nathaniel Blumberg, who has recently written a book about neighboring Charlie Company, and he got excited too. Well, I E-Mailed famed Bert Quint, and he said - no, that's not him. It appears to be a coincidence of names (which reminds me of something similar that happened in 'Saving Private Ryan'). Another family legend bites the dust!

Trinitite

OK, I like 50's retro stuff. My good friend Deborah has a new 50's retro painting "Kissing the Blue Marble" , and she's going to explore the genre further. Then there was this photo, which came from this popular blog. I remember the classic film short, "The Valley Where the Giant Mushrooms Grow" (can't find a reference for that), which was featured at the 1975 Tech Weatherman Film Festival (if memory serves).

Deborah asked whether I had any Trinitite in my rock collection. Indeed so! I went to Trinity Site once. They used to give tours just once or twice a year (they may still do so). I think it was 1975. They made an announcement: "under no circumstances should you pick up the Trinitite." But I couldn't just ignore it, because what were the odds of me ever returning? So I picked up the Trinitite, slipped it into my socks, felt the pebbles roll under my sole, and thenceforth hobbled around in great pain as I toured the site. Then I noticed that EVERYONE was picking up the Trinitite, military folks too, and putting it in their pockets. So I retrieved the pebbles and put them in my pockets too. Using a Geiger counter, we were later able to compare the radioactivity of the Trinitite with naturally-occurring Columbite ore from a mine we high-graded at the famed Harding Pegmatite in northern NM, near Dixon. The naturally-occurring ore was much more radioactive than the Trinitite. I still have the Trinitite in my basement (I try to keep all radioactive substances out of my socks and pockets these days).

I'm tempted to bring a few pieces on my next visit to Deborah in AZ. I'm wondering how good airport security is, and whether something that is slightly radioactive will be detected. The Columbite has a better chance of getting picked up, because its more robust, but I bet I can get both through.

I would like to have to have been in the tank they sent to ground-zero about an hour after the blast, when the whole ground-surface was covered with a patina of Trinitite (the greenish tint is so mild that you can barely detect it in the pieces I have - you need a lot, like, acres, to really see it - and the patina has long been shattered by hard-charging vehicles and visitors pocketing chunks). I remember (1975) that there was a change in vegetation as one approached the site, changing from grass to sage scrub as one got closer to the site. I was impressed that the vegetation was as robust as it was, after being annihilated 30 years before. The Jornada del Muerto is just about the driest, least habitable part of NM, the bane of the Spaniards, yet growth rates were still large enough to give a good approximation to a natural landscape.

OK, Where Are Those WMD?

Interesting speculation on whether CIA and others 'buckled' to Administration pressure to get the WMD analyses it wanted. Given the crudeness of most hard-charging politicians, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest. Before the war, I thought that if no WMD were present in Iraq (whether they had been destroyed long before or never existed in the first place), and Saddam Hussein was too proud or stupid to announce the fact to the world community, and the U.S. invaded anyway, it would be the greatest joke in the history of the world. It looks alarmingly like this scenario has come to pass. The simple absence of reliable information prior to the start of the war always seemed the biggest hindrance to getting any kind of international consensus, and the predisposition of the Bushies to conceal and spin just makes things worse. We are lucky this time, because the war itself has done a lot of good, but it's a sign of great dangers to come. Together with Bush's tax-cutting obsession, and Saudi-cuddling inclination, it's just another reason to want to bid these guys goodbye. The Democrats are so lame, however, that we may be seriously stuck for another four years - when the first Boomers start to retire and the real chaos in government starts.

My Trip To New Mexico, And Back

My preparations for the trip started slowly, during the week of May 5th, by catching up on some Davis Musical Theater Company (DMTC) money matters (where I'm treasurer), by catching up on sleep after DMTC ended its run of "Grease" (where I played Eugene the Nerd), and by doing some housecleaning. I left Persia Nelson (Katherine Arthur's daughter) in charge of the house, with the task of redecorating, rearranging the furniture, cleaning the place further, and otherwise making it a better place to live.

After Pam Lourentzos' ballet class on Sunday May 11th, I dragged my suitcase and a big painting by the artist Joe Ray to the airport. I bought the painting a year ago, on the Internet, with the assistance of Deborah McMillion-Nering, from MARS Artspace in Phoenix, for my sister Michelle's birthday, or for Christmas, but since I hadn't gone to N.M. lately, I still had the painting. There was only one place on the plane where the painting would fit (behind the very last seats, opposite their dedicated space for art portfolios), but at least there was a space: 32" x 39" is the largest size painting you ever want to take on one of Southwest's 737's. I lugged the painting through the Las Vegas airport, where we changed planes, but succeeded in getting it to Albuquerque intact, where I rented a car, and drove to my Dad's mobile home in the North Valley.

Arising late on Monday morning May 12th, I prepared to leave for Santa Fe to do genealogical research at the N.M. State Archives. I idly read the front-page story of the Albuquerque Journal:

SANTA FE - President Bush will get back to work today by pushing his tax cut and job creation plans at a Bernalillo business after spending a relaxing golf weekend in Santa Fe.

Bush will travel to Bernalillo to give a speech on his tax cut and economic growth plans at MCT Industries Inc. around 9:30 a.m., said Tucker Eskew, a White House spokesman.

I looked at the clock on the wall - it was 9:28 a.m. "Holey Moley, I'm late", I shouted! I quickly drove over to Bernalillo, N.M. (where my grandmother once lived, where numerous cousins live, and where I lived briefly when I was 3 years old), towards Santa Fe, 10 miles north of the Albuquerque city limits, exiting I-25 at the southern exit to Bernalillo around 10 a.m. Immediately, I noticed several Sandia Pueblo police cars blocking off what appeared to be a freeway frontage road, but I drove past, assuming that MCT Industries would be on the south side of town. When I couldn't find the place, I drove back to where the police cars clustered, and hesitated. I was confused, not only by the speech's location, but the unexpected appearance of a new-looking Mormon church where the road to my grandmother's old house should have been located, and by the abrupt appearance of a roadrunner racing across the street. Why did the roadrunner cross the street? Because Acme Industries was on the other side?

Anyway, I got back on the freeway, and went to Bernalillo's north exit from I-25, passing what was obviously MCT Industries, with its big American flag, and throngs of guests. Nevertheless, the formidable appearance of policemen, a few troops, lots of traffic, and a few protesters dissuaded me from turning on the frontage road towards the speech's location. Frustrated, I drove around back to the south side of town, established that the Mormon church had, in fact, not displaced the road to my grandmother's old house, and sneaked up close to MCT Industries, reaching the frontage road where it intersected Richardson Drive, south of the speech's location. I parked, and stood with a few locals from the mobile home park across the street, as well as policemen from Santa Ana Pueblo (every policeman in 20 miles must have been nearby). I guessed that, since Bush was traveling from the north, from Santa Fe, probably towards Albuquerque, to the south, he would have to pass this location. And we waited.

People entertained themselves. A man picked up his close-cropped 3-year-old son by placing his palms on either side of the kid's head and lifting him straight up, dangling the kid's body from the kid's head. Never would work with me! Several police motorcycles raced by in formation: first, a group of two cycles, and then a group of four. One woman smiled and said, "they're going to get a ticket!" I spoiled the joke slightly by stating the obvious: "I don't think so!" One African-American man, a local apparently well-known to the mobile-home-park folks, wandered down the middle of the frontage road, and a motorcycle cop stopped and ordered him off the road. Actually, I was surprised to see any local African-Americans - Bernalillo historically has had very few, but times must be changing.

Then, many cycles approached in formation, bracketing four vehicles - Bush's motorcade! As they drove past, I had trouble figuring out which vehicle was his (apparently the second, in front of the antenna-laden communications SUV). I couldn't see well through the tinted glass, and I was standing too far to the left to clearly see Bush himself, seated, as one should have expected, on the far right. The excited mobile-home folks saw Bush wave at them, though. I was very impressed. Imagine, Bernalillo, N.M., federal-aid-dependent capital of north-central N.M., hosting the President of the U.S.! Won't happen again in a hundred years! I figured he must have owed Senator Pete Domenici a favor, or something. After Bush passed, kids posed for photos with the Santa Ana policemen. Everyone seemed happy. So now, I've come close to seeing a sitting President three times, but not quite succeeded - I shook hands with Jimmy Carter, on October 4th, 1976, in Denver, CO, just before his election, saw a speech by Ronald Reagan at Arizona State University's Sun Devil basketball arena, in July, 1989, shortly after he had left office, and now almost saw George W. Bush.

A few national commentators took note of Bush's speech, which surprised me, given Bernalillo's obscurity. Michael Kinsley, at Slate, had an especially acidic take on MCT Industries. There was also an article concerning press manipulation that made reference to the Bernalillo speech, by Elisabeth Bumiller of the New York Times, reported in the Sacramento Bee on May 18th:

"And on Monday, for remarks the president made promoting his tax cut plan near Albuquerque, N.M., the White House unfurled a backdrop that proclaimed its message of the day, 'Helping Small Business,' over and over. The lettering was too small to be read by most in the audience, but just the right size for television viewers at home."

Afterwards, I drove around Bernalillo, taking note of the many changes that have accumulated over the years. I was surprised by the appearance of a "MTV Lane" in a mobile-home park near my grandmother's old house: just a coincidence, or some sort of honor for the music network?

On Monday and Tuesday, I drove to Santa Fe to do genealogical research at the N.M. State Archives, and on Wednesday I stayed in Albuquerque, at the old Public Library, where genealogical information is also available. By plowing through the data, I discovered that one ancestor, who moved from Mexico to N.M. in 1852, was a candymaker by trade. How strange is that? I now have a million questions about how that would have worked, especially in the very rural Old West. Did he pick the trade up in Mexico as a young man, or did he learn it in Santa Fe? Why did he move to very-rural Los Lunas, south of Albuquerque - it couldn't have been to practice his craft, could it? Was it a family tradition? But there is no one to ask - he's long gone! I also had some success in pushing back my Sena line of ancestors back to around 1800, but I don't know whether that is sufficient to connect my ancestry with that of the prominent Sena family of Santa Fe (that clan is so large anyway), but I hope so.

On a very windy and dusty Thursday May 15th, I travelled with my sister Michelle, to Madrid and Galisteo, N.M., on the high plateaus between Albuquerque and Santa Fe. I bought lots of stuff in the Madrid shops - Guatamalan wear, pretty paper constructions, a kaleidoscope, etc. After passing felons collecting roadside litter (from the nearby N.M. State Penitentiary?), we stopped at the cemetery in Galisteo, looking for Valdezes, but found none. Apparently we were near where Shirley MacClaine and her friends have their various estates, because we passed places like the Nizhoni School for Global Consciousness.

Upon our return, the entire family went to dinner, but afterwards we went to my sister Marra's house when we learned in a frantic call from her husband Ken that the winds had knocked a tree down on their house. The damage was minimal, fortunately.

I travelled again with my sister Michelle, to Santa Fe, on a calm and clear Friday, May 16th. We also stopped in Bernalillo, to see our grandparents' graves, located in the Our Lady of Sorrows Cemetery near the successful, obviously well-connected, and (to my alarm) ever-expanding MCT Industries. In Santa Fe, we visited the Veteran's Memorial Cemetery, where our mom, uncle, and aunt are buried. Drought-ridden Santa Fe water restrictions are making it hard for the Cemetery to keep the grass green, especially near where my mom is buried. We also shopped (I bought a pretty emerald-green aventurine jewelry box), and drove around aimlessly in the pretty hills, with all the beautiful houses.

Friday evening, after eating Mexican food that had apparently begun to go bad, I bid Albuquerque farewell and made a quick trip via a nausea-inducing Southwest 737 to Las Vegas, NV. The Las Vegas weekend was a hectic time, visiting the family of a college friend in the remote northern suburbs, my cousin's family in the somewhat-less-remote eastern suburbs, and with various gambling and discotheque forays on the Strip, which ended up mostly OK.

My first hosts were my UNM (University of New Mexico) college friend, Ira Gershin, and his family, consisting of wife Marci, and daughters Rachel and Beth (ages 11 and 9, respectively), son Daniel (age 7), and German Shepherd dog Midnight (nine months?). Ira and Marci greeted me at the airport, and helped me rent a car, which proved good for the flexible travel I had in mind that weekend. I stayed with them Friday night, even though that meant my paid-for hotel room at the Excalibur hotel on the Strip remained unoccupied that night (room reservations secured through Vegas.com, while reasonable, unfortunately can't be changed much less than a week in advance). Friday night, Ira and I went to the nearby (only five miles away) new Sun Coast casino, to play blackjack, where Ira lost, but I won ($547.50 - $200.00 = $347.50). It was a pleasant escapade for me, even though the Mexican dinner and I had to part company during the evening. After retiring at 3 a.m., I awoke to the early-rising children (around 7 a.m.) They were very curious about me, remembering a previous visit in January 2000, when I brought my dog Sparky, when Rachel still had allergies to dogs, and couldn't play with him as much as she wanted.

Ira and family were fun. Rachel tends toward intellectual pursuits, and she is a little anxious about making the transition to 6th grade. She is going to be having her bat mitzvah on Martin Luther King weekend in 2004. Beth, with her curious but attractive lisping speech, is showing signs of fulfilling a potential for beauty that I noticed as long ago as 2000. Daniel, age 7, is one very active kid. As Ira and Marci painted Beth's bedroom on Saturday morning, Daniel buttonholed me for hours with his Pokemon cards and Donkey Kong on the Nintendo 64.

After visiting Ira and family, I drove back to the Excalibur hotel, showered, and ended up playing blackjack at the neighboring Luxor casino for several hours Saturday afternoon. I won a lot of money ($1093.50 - $140.00 = $953.50, plus the previous $347.50 = $1301.00 total winnings). I left the Luxor at 5 p.m., to make my 6 p.m. dinner appointment with my (now elderly) cousins, Joyce Anton Krebs (also a descendant of the Sena clan) and her husband Ralph, who live on the east side of Las Vegas, way out on Tropicana Blvd., way past Liberace's museum (which, unfortunately, I didn't have time to visit).

I have noticed, in previous blackjack gambling, that prolonged time at the tables kills. Even if the odds are slightly in your favor (which they aren't, they are slightly in the casino's favor), the back-and-forth, win-and-lose nature of gambling will eventually cause you to lose your entire bankroll. The long-time winner is always the party with the biggest bankroll, namely, the casino. But if duration at the tables is limited by hard deadlines (e.g., by Ira's need to return home, or by my dinner appointment with the Krebs), it is still possible to come out ahead, or at least not lose badly, since deadlines impose some badly-needed discipline on the effort. According to the book named 24/7 (Living It Up and Doubling Down in the New Las Vegas), by Andres Martinez, published in 1999, which I was reading during this trip, the fiendish gambler and writer extraordinaire Fyodor Dostoevsky posed the need for detachment and discipline thus in a letter to his wife:

If one is prudent, that is, if one is as though made of marble, cold, and inhumanely cautious, then definitely without any doubt, one can win as much as much as one wishes.

I hadn't seen the Krebs in about five years. I arrived at their new home in a gated community and regaled them with stories of my good luck, plus my determination to buy everyone as big a dinner as they could handle - $1000 worth of pizza if they wanted. Even though Joyce had just worked a 12-hour shift as a security guard, she seemed happy and alert, and gratified to hear something else than a sad story about the casinos. Their son Christopher was also there. Christopher is apparently a refugee of the dot.com collapse in Silicon Valley, and who now commutes often between Las Vegas and Santa Clara, CA, for various property maintenance jobs. I bought them all a sumptuous all-you-can-eat dinner at Sam's Town casino buffet, although I tried to be careful, since memory of the Mexican dinner lingered. Ralph endeavored to help me with the genealogy work - he gave me a copy of his own Krebs masterwork. We also went on what seemed like a fool's errand, looking for an open Kinko's copying place at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night, in order to copy some Sena-related material. But I need not have worried: Las Vegas is THE 24/7 city. After getting lost, and suffering through a traffic jam near the UNLV stadium, where a heavy-metal concert was getting out, we were successful in getting the few pages I needed copied. It was a very pleasant visit!

By now I was anxious. I had a lot of money, and unless I spent it on goods, I was likely to lose it in the casinos. I decided to try, in a rather ineffectual way, to spend a portion of the winnings on goods. Racing back past Liberace's museum (now closed for the evening), I stopped at the Tropicana Blvd. Wal-Mart and went hunting for a new suitcase to carry my loot. I could have bought more items there, like a digital camera, but I was indecisive and not inclined to do product research at the instant. I returned to the Excalibur Hotel with just the suitcase, and went shopping there instead.

There is a Hat Shop at the Excalibur, where I started buying caps, wands, hats, etc. There was a very well-spoken 26-year old Filipino immigrant manning the counter, named Jose Melancio (Jomel) Clarito. He buttonholed me for about an hour in a cabbages-and-kings kind of discussion. He described the travails of being Filipino in these post-September 11th days, when many Filipino immigrants have lost employment because they are not native-born, for example, from the various airport security jobs that used to provide an good entry-level living. Plus casinos have the habit of dismissing entire boatloads of people, immigrants included, like all the pirates just dismissed en masse over at Treasure Island Casino. Jomel reminded me of what my friend Gabe MacAuliffe might have been like if he had been a Filipino immigrant growing up in gang-ridden Covina in the 80's rather than a native-born Californian growing up in Sacramento in the 70's. In any event, it was a pleasant discussion (I notice, in vapid and transient Las Vegas, a real yearning for people to make and hold human connections).

Afterwards, I wanted to see if the Studio 54 discotheque (named after the original New York club) at the MGM Grand Hotel, across the intersection of Tropicana Blvd. and the Las Vegas Strip from the Excalibur, was quite as exotic as I remembered it from my March, 2002 visit. On that night a year ago, I arrived on a Tuesday night, which is EDEN (Exotic Dancers and Entertainers Night), when these strange but beautiful working people can get in without paying cover. What an amazing spectacle! Acres of splendor! Hanging with the supermodels! So, passing by the New York, New York Hotel's loop-da-loop roller coaster (which I badly wanted to ride, but there was no freakin' time), I made my over to the MGM Grand.

Discotheques are a form of theater - personal theater. Live out your bacchanalian fantasies, exposed in perfect anonymity. As expected, there was no way to get in Studio 54 around midnight - it was still too early, and crowded, but there appeared to be a big party in the cavernous lobby outside Studio 54. From a tall platform, about eight women, dressed in platinum-blonde wigs, go-go-boots, and various mini-skirts and thin blouses, sang the 80's hit "I Want Candy" and did exactly the same hand-jive routine we had just done for "Grease" at DMTC (apparently it's been standardized):

I know a girl who's soft and sweet
She's so fine, she can't be beat
Got everything that I desire
Sets the summer sun on fire

I want candy
I want candy

Ought to see her with her hair hung down
Ain't no finer girl in town
Candy's just what the doctor ordered
She's so sweet she makes my mouth water

I want candy
I want candy

Candy on the beach, there's nothing better
But I like candy in slack's and a sweater
Some day soon I'll make you mine
Then I'll have candy all the time

I want candy
I want candy

Hmmm….. The beautiful crowd seemed to be too soused, and too inclined to preen, to give these women their full attention. So, I went off and played more blackjack, but lost this time (maybe because there was no hard deadline: $820.00, plus the previous $1301.00 wins = $481.00 total winnings for the entire trip, a modest overall win). At around 2:30 a.m., I finally entered the packed Studio 54 and danced with the very strange and exotic crowd there. Several go-go dancers, looking much like the platinum blondes outside (maybe they were some of the same ladies, since a DJ had now replaced the ladies outside), elevated themselves above the writhing crowd. They had similar go-go boots to the ladies outside, but wore strange mesh-like leotards, and those ever-popular thongs, of course. They pointed single ostrich feathers at the dancers with a sense of hauteur and command. A bare-chested man with painter pants and great abs, who looked liked he fell right out of a Kylie Minogue video, danced provocatively on another riser. Hordes of people shook and twisted in the dark on metal-mesh platforms suspended over the dance floor. Theatrical lights whipped to and fro in the cacophonous musical din, in a computer-driven frenzy.

I'm sure I stood out in this crowd like a baboon in a flock of birds, being much older and certainly funnier-looking, but I presumed upon their beneficent sense of tolerance, and just flailed around with the best of them. A few people seemed friendly, but it was hard to tell in the noise.

The dancing was not as energetic as I remembered a year ago. Rap/hip-hop music ruled for about 45 minutes, then 30 minutes of high-energy house, then back to rap/hip-hop. Two songs stand out in my memory. First there was Notorious B.I.G.'s enormous hit (featuring rapper Sean Combs, formerly known as Puff Daddy, who has now adopted the nickname Notorious B.I.G. preferred all along, P. Diddy), Going Back To Cali. Not only is the hook line mesmerizing in its chant-like way, but for once, my life, and Notorious B.I.G.'s (who was murdered in 1996), were moving along parallel directions: the early-morning wake-up call for a plane trip to California:

*phone number being dialed*
*phone rings three times*
[Biggie] Yo!
[P. Dad] Yo Big wake up wake up baby
[Biggie] Mmm, yo...
[P. Dad] Yo Big wake yo' ass up c'mon
[Biggie] I'm up! I'm up. *mumbling* I'm up I'm up
[P. Dad] Big, wake up!
[Biggie] I'm up diddy, what the fuck, man? What's up?
[P. Dad] C'mon now it's a quarter to six we got the 7:30 flight
[Biggie] Mmm, *mumbling* yeah
[P. Dad] Yo Big Big, Big
[Biggie] Yeah I hear you dogg, I hear you, alright, 7:30
[P. Dad] Yo take down this information
[Biggie] Ain't no pen
[P. Dad] Tell your girl then to remember it or somethin
[Biggie] Aight honey, yeah write this down
[P. Dad] Aight, ummm, flight five-oh-four
[Biggie] Five-oh-four
[P. Dad] Leaving Kennedy
[Biggie] *mumbling* Kennedy
[P. Dad] On the L-A-X
[Biggie] Oh! Cali??
[P. Dad] No doubt baby, you know we gotta get this paper
[Biggie] Ahh, no doubt, aight
[P. Dad] You aight?
[Biggie] I'm up, I'm up
[P. Dad] Yo Big
[Biggie] I'm UP man
[P. Dad] Flight five-oh-four
[Biggie] Alright 7:30 I'ma meet you at the airport
[P. Dad] California
[Biggie] Yeh
*phone clicks*

etc.

Chorus:

I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali
I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali
I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali
I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali

etc.

(Lyrics available here, or here).

Then there was also the huge summer 2002 House hit by Who Da Funk (featuring Jessica Eve), called Shiny Disco Balls. This song was very popular, especially in U.K. dance clubs, and is practically THE Las Vegas anthem among Clubbers the world over. It gave me the greatest pleasure to hear the tune, at last, in its proper environment, a Las Vegas discotheque….

Drugs...
rock 'n' roll...
bad-ass vegas whores...
late-night booty calls...
shiny disco balls...

I danced till about 4:30 a.m. or so, retired back to the Excalibur, and restlessly twitched in bed until the 6 a.m. wake-up call from the Excalibur automatic attendant:

I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali
I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali
I'm going going, back back, to Cali Cali
I'm going going, back back, to Sacramento

Upon returning to Sacramento, sleepy and barely awake, I was amazed at the progress Persia Nelson had made in improving the house. The room previously known as the pinko-stinko room, partly because of the pink carpet (even before the bunny's litter box was housed there) is now the sharpest room in the house. Vast improvements and Persia's discerning eye at work everywhere! I was even able to make Pam Lourentzos' Sunday ballet class at 11:30 a.m. Then afterwards, a nap, and back to the DMTC routine, with "Show Boat" rehearsal that evening.

End of trip!

Quick Note

Just a note for the interim. Been chugging through genealogical data at the NM Archives in Santa Fe. Found some interesting stuff, but it's still pretty thin gruel so far. Discovered one gentleman, a candymaker by trade, moved from Chihuahua, Mexico to NM in 1852. How odd.... a candymaker! Was it the chronically-weak Mexican economy that sent him north, or some alluring sweet thing? I wonder what else is buried in the archives?

On Monday George W. Bush gave a speech at a factory in Bernalillo, NM. I learned about it in the morning paper and raced out there, and I got to see his motorcade rumble past. A fun tale I will expand upon later.

Later, this weekend, a quick trip to Vegas. Should be fun!

Upcoming Trip To NM

I'll be in Albuquerque and Las Vegas until May 18th. See you later with some fun stories!

No Condemnations For The Excess

I submitted this to Andrew Sullivan's blog, but it didn't get printed (that's why we all have blogs, right?):

The revelation regarding Bill Bennett's excesses, and the failure of conservatives to roundly condemn the sin (if not the sinner), are just another sign that conservatives are sliding comfortably into more and more seats of entitlement, from which they will exercise power without conscience or limit. The excesses for which conservatives once pillioried liberals now bear a right-wing label. Deficit spending is now a conservative privilege, as are foreign adventures. Perhaps it's just part of the cycle of American politics, whereby the Democrats and Republicans covet the other's position, and completely switch positions over time (have you noticed the Red-Blue states of the 2000 election are nearly the mirror image of the 1900 election?) In any event, conservative ascendancy is looking like it's going to be pretty toxic for everyone who doesn't fit into a privileged elite of one stripe or another.

Regarding Bennett, much of the damage he's done is within his own family. Excess wreaths itself in lies, which start in response to very basic questions: "I miss you, everyone's been looking for you, where have you been?"; "where has our money gone?", etc. The damage continues with denials of a problem, assertions that no material harm has been done to the family, and bogus promises to stop gambling, with the entire family acting as accomplices. His excess, evasions, and outright lies form a poor basis from which to expound conservative virtues of sobriety, reserve, and honesty, yet he still has many defenders on the right! Family values indeed!

Here's an interesting link regarding Bill Bennett's problem.

Kathleen O'Reilley Liked This

Kathleen O'Reilley liked this. It's not hard to see why, either.

We Finished "Grease" This Weekend

We finished "Grease" this weekend. Fun was had by all. It was a strange experience to see the cast become more harmonious with time, rather than driven apart by various pressures (apparently several cast members had pre-existing dislikes that were finally reconciled during the show). It was hard at first to do Eugene the Nerd, since the experience took me back to unresolved nerd issues from junior high and high school, but since I'm so much older now, the issues have lost their punch, and I was able to relax and have fun.

On the last Saturday, we had a strange audience that seemed overly reserved, unusual for a Saturday, but I was surprised by a wave of sympathy that rippled through the audience when Eugene gets pushed around at the dance just before the contest, when Miss Lynch, who officiates, says all couples should be boy-girl, and Roger says "Too bad, Eugene!" I had never felt that wave of sympathy before that last Saturday. There was a point in the show every night after the contest, when I ad libbed a line that was not in the script, to comic effect. The moment came when awards are given after the Dance Contest at the High School Hop. When Danny and Cha-Cha are presented with a trophy prepared by "Mrs. Schneider's art class", I shouted a line, sometimes, "Home Room!", or "4th Period!", or something to that effect. My ad lib line that night was "And Special Ed!" After the show, I learned that the audience had a significant number of kids with Down's Syndrome, which simultaneously explains the audience's reserve, and their sympathy for the underdog. Strange moments come when doing theater!

In my show biography, I told the story of Bob Chaney, a good friend from junior high school, high school, and early college years, but a consummate nerd - the best I ever met. Here is the story I related, in a caption below my picture, which was posted along with the rest of the cast's pictures in the lobby of the Varsity Theater in Davis:

I would like to dedicate my performance as Eugene the Nerd to my old junior high/college friend, Bob Chaney, the Prince of Nerds. Bob had all the requisite Nerd gear - checked shirt with pocket protector, thick glasses with tape on the temple, slumped shoulders. But Bob had the attitude down cold - a real inspiration, and what I try to capture with Eugene.

When Bob entered college, his grades fell sharply. Bob wouldn't write essays the way the English teachers wanted - his dream was to come up with the world's best manual for automobile repair, and so he would write - manuals. Confronted with essay demands in History class, he tried a "Comprehensive History of Automobile Repair Manuals since World War II". Bob already knew something the rest of us would learn only with the dot-com boom: there are a lot of really badly-written manuals in the world.

In our freshman year in college (New Mexico Tech - Socorro, NM - 1974), Bob had a dorm room at the east end of West Hall, which was unfortunate, because that was where the Hoovers (guess why they are called that), under the leadership of the infamous Wedge, held drunken air guitar parties all weekend long. Wedge and the Hoovers started calling Bob "Plebney", and began harassing him. Poor Bob slept in his closet, so as to avoid partiers spying through his window. One Saturday night, 'One Drunk Chick' pounded on his door shouting "I want to sleep with Plebney!" Bob opened the door, jabbed her with a pencil, and slammed the door. The Hoovers were angry, and wanting revenge, when someone realized that they themselves were ultimately at fault. Who better than Bob, they reasoned, really represented the Hoover spirit? And so Bob became, after a fashion - the Hoover's mascot! And all lived happily ever after!

The moral of this story is: Each of us has the Hoover spirit deep inside, we just express it in different ways.

In any event, here are some pictures from DMTC's recent version of "Grease" (all photos by James Stark).

"Beauty School Dropout" - Megan O'Laughlin, Lauren Miller, and Stacia Truesdale

"All Choked Up" - Amber Jean Moore (Sandy) foreground; Lauren Miller, Dena Lozano, Lauren deMitchell, and Megan Garcia (The Pink Ladies); background Danette Bell-Vassar, Megan Garcia, Rebekah Shepard, Stacia Truesdale.

"Summer Nights" - Marc Valdez (Eugene), Tommy Callahan (Sonny), Richard Kuykendall (Kenickie), David 'Turtle' Akona (Doody), James Blumer (Roger), Josue Aceves, Brian Turner (Teen Angel)

"High School Hop" - foreground: David Holmes (Danny Zuko) and Claire Lawrence (Cha-Cha deGregorio); background: Mary Young (Miss Lynch) and Arthur Vassar (Vince Fontaine).

William Bennet's Hypocrisy

I have to say that it gives me a sense of pleasure to see William Bennett so discomfited by the revelation of how serious his gambling problem is. He embraces the libertarian argument that his own gambling causes no one else any problems, and thus he should suffer no blame, yet advocates jail for those who embrace the identical argument when they smoke marijuana. It's a form of hypocrisy, and hardly virtuous at all. It's his family, however, who will suffer the most as he descends the slippery slope into lies and deceit that serious addiction inevitably causes.....

Bush The Bully

Bush the bully. Love to hate the guy! His easy, eerie rise to power always seemed a response by Clio, the Muse of History, to a particular dilemma, namely, how do we get rid of Saddam Hussein and his evil regime? Now that that task is accomplished, it's better to move on, and get a more judicious leader in there before we start a premature war on the Korean peninsula that gets everyone in Seoul killed, or before the economy is badly damaged.