Sacramento area community musical theater (esp. DMTC in Davis, 2000-2020); Liberal politics; Meteorology; "Breaking Bad," "Better Call Saul," and Albuquerque movie filming locations; New Mexico and California arcana, and general weirdness.
I didn't know Randy except by sight, and in the company of Jori Gonzales. He had a big impact, though, especially at Sac State.
SACRAMENTO, Calif. — Sacramento State is saddened to announce the passing of former Hornet gymnastics coach Randy Solorio following a lengthy battle with cancer. He was 63 years old.
A fixture on the Sacramento State campus for nearly 40 years, Solorio served as an assistant coach, head coach and kinesiology instructor since 1986.
"The man loved Sac State, this was his home, and his family," current head coach Melissa Genovese said. "Randy's impact goes far beyond the gymnastics floor. Some could argue his ballroom dance class was the most popular class on campus. You couldn't go anywhere on campus without someone knowing Randy. His personality and love of life was contagious, and he always looked at the positive side of everything. That outlook and his years of dedication had a profound impact on Sac State gymnastics and every person he met."
Solorio was the head coach of the Hornets from 2016-23. His first season at the helm saw Sacramento State win the Mountain Pacific Sports Federation championship and saw four Hornet gymnasts advance to the NCAA West Regional. That season, the team posted three top 10 overall scores, including the two best scores in school history. His teams went on to add three more top 10 marks and account for over half of the top totals in program history.
...Outside of gymnastics, Solorio taught ballroom dancing and weightlifting classes for the kinesiology department and was also a member of the UEI board. Throughout his life he starred in local theater, musicals and commercials in Sacramento. Solorio regularly showcased his vocal skills by singing the national anthem prior to meets where he was accompanied by his wife, Jori, and daughter Kaycee.
Solorio began his tenure at Sacramento State in 1986 as an assistant coach under Kim Hughes. The duo proved to be a great team, guiding the Hornets to seven conference titles. The Hornets also made their first NCAA regional team appearance during the stretch, advancing to the postseason in 1999, 2006, 2007 and 2008.
...Prior to coaching, Solorio was a decorated gymnast himself, earning All-America honors on vault, high bar and floor exercise while competing for UC Davis from 1980-82. He finished his academic career at Sacramento State where he earned a bachelor of science in exercise science and master's in sports performance.
Randy was active in the early days of Davis Musical Theatre Company (DMTC):
Billy Flynn Chicago Mar-Apr 1986
Johnny Casino Grease Oct-Nov 1987
Carnival Barker and Principal Hornpipe Dancer (Sunday Matinees) Carousel Feb-Mar 1988
Today, I went down to the noontime 50501 demonstration at the California State Capitol.
First thing to do before I headed down was to get some poster board and a magic marker. I needed something pithy to write. I chose "It's Elon, or Us" on one side, and "Resist! (Do not cooperate with them)" on the other. I also brought back the poster I nicked from the protest last week.
Last week, the protestors were a small group - intimate, really. Today's group was much larger - many baby boomers remembering protests of yore, plus entire new generations of protestors. Prior to the protest, messages went out on Reddit and Indivisible discouraging attendance (It might be dangerous! The protest has no formal organizers!), and I think turnout was lower for that.
It's interesting how the news media fails to capture events like this. The general line is that hundreds of people showed up, but that's because the reporters waited until the protest was nearly over before making their appearance. Cowardice, anyone? I got there early, and I estimated the crowd as being between 1,000 and 2,000 - say, 1,500 people.
Lots of clever, original signs at the protest. There were at least two signs I liked with the slogan, "I Drink My Horchata Warm Because FUCK ICE." I handed the sign I got last week to a woman at the protest there (she worried about taking the sign home on the bus and poking bus riders with the poster's corners). There were folks in Mexican regalia, and others with UFW flags. There was a woman with a sign "We Need a Feminomenon" (a nod to Chappel Roan). I complimented a young woman for her sign and she gestured back to my sign, and then had the signs *kiss*. I tried talking with her but then realized she couldn't really reply - she was incapacitated in some way, and mute. Lots of cute dogs at the protest. Many people photographed a little bulldog with an anti-ICE sign on his head.
There was not much organization visible at the protest and there were no speakers. (Protests since the Occupy protests of 2011 greatly-downplay any leadership influence.) The steps on the West Side of the Capitol have four broad levels, and each level had its own flavor. Call-and-response chants rose and fell. There was only one person I'd label as a protest aficionado. Everyone else were people greeting friends they hadn't seen since before the pandemic.
I walked back and forth with my sign. I didn't see anyone I saw last week, but I did see a former coworker, plus a former Zumba compatriot. I saw a politician too (I suppose no surprise there, given the terrain), but I'm unsure who he was. I walked up to the doors of the State Capitol, looked in, and could see schoolchildren on a Capitol tour walking up a staircase.
At future protests I'd like to see speakers. I'd also like to recreate the intimate protest of last week even at events like this. Carve out a little corner at the edge of the crowd and have people speak their own truths. I need a little megaphone. Someone at today's protest had a little battery-powered megaphone, but he wasn't really using it properly.
I recall back in 1979, becoming friends with graduate student Dennis Cohen, part of the curious culture of permanent graduate students found at most large universities. Dennis was studying for a degree in Nuclear Engineering so he could be the most-effective advocate ever against Nuclear Power. His one great moment was getting his picture on the front page of the Denver Post for leading a protest at the University of Wyoming, a protest he was able to control because he controlled the megaphone. I don't know if Dennis ever completely-graduated. Here is a reference from 2010:
This summer he won third place in the screenplay competition of the 2010 Alaska International Film Awards.
...By night he writes and revises his literary pursuits. His screenplay, “Caroline and Johann: A Love Story,” is a fictional retelling of the historical 18th Century affair between the Queen of Denmark Caroline Matilda of Great Britain and the royal court physician.
...His thesis, a study of computer simulations of energy transfer in the atmosphere titled, “Discrete ordinate and Monte Carlo simulations for polarized radiative transfer in a coupled system with non-Rayleigh scattering,” seems worlds away from an ill-fated love affair. But Cohen, who holds master’s degrees in Physics from the University of Wyoming and Nuclear Engineering from the University of New Mexico, says he is simply pursuing his two passions. “My plan was to do physics and to write,” Cohen says, citing other writer-academics like Lewis Carroll (a mathematician) and Charles Percy Snow (a physicist). “It is possible, but it’s not that easy,” Cohen explains.
I've lost the plot a bit. Yes, today's demonstration was good, and bigger than the news media say. And like Dennis, I need a megaphone.
The local media aren't really covering this story. Only Channel 3 has a story, and they arrived quite late.
A darkly-amusing article about how incapable our Democratic Senators are in meeting the challenge of the moment:
How did it come to this? Democrats have built their entire party structure on polite deference, seniority, and chasing bipartisanship as an outcome, as opposed to elevating the most talented and passionate politicians into roles in which they can make impact or articulating, defending, and expanding the role of what government can do to improve the lives of others.
We’ve seen the most dramatic, damaging outgrowths of this approach to Washington politics, in the form of the protracted propping up of the late Dianne Feinstein as senator and Joe Biden as president, not to mention Democratic-appointed Supreme Court justices preferring to die or risk death to being replaced by a Democratic president. But this deference also has poisoned our politics in corrosive ways, with institutional seniority locking in apathy and entitlement among Democratic leaders. The party’s unwillingness to separate themselves from age-old, meaningless decorum that rewards length of tenure as opposed to strength of conviction in its elected officials has meant that the people in charge of Congress’s most important panels are often the oldest, and most out of touch.
I saw "Anora" at the Tower on the evening 1/31. It's billed as a Cinderella movie of sorts, but it's quite a strange story. Russian oligarch trash with lots of flash.
Particularly after "Poor Things" did so well at the Oscars last year, there now seems to be a fast track for Best Actress/Best Picture nominations by doing what amounts to "sex-positive" soft porn. Not everything qualifies, of course. "Sex-negative" or "sex-confused" soft porn will not do. Still, what's good for Emma Stone is good for Mikey Madison, who plays Ani as she struggles for a measure of dignity.
The director is Sean Baker, who also directed "The Florida Project," which I liked a lot.
The first third of the movie establishes the gentlemen's club, the fabulous residence of Ani's beau, Ivan, and the quick trip to Las Vegas for a quick wedding.
The second third of the movie features the alarmed reactions of Ivan's Russian oligarch parents, as expressed through the actions of their hastily-dispatched goons. This is the best part of the movie, where everyone is screaming and fighting and hyperventilating. The physical comedy is the best I've seen in eons, on a par with the short films of the Three Stooges.
The Three Stooges were never nominated for any Oscars as far as I know. Not enough sex-positivity, I presume. One must be careful when walking that tightrope. Hollywood is difficult to please.
Everything wraps up in the final third of the movie. In this section, the excellent acting skills of Yuriy Borisov as Igor are prominent.
I liked the film - I need that soundtrack - but I'd hesitate giving the movie an Oscar. The plot is a little simple. But what do I know? Yuriy Borisov could surprise as Supporting Actor.
Yesterday, I visited my electrophysiologist, the surgeon who did the cardiac ablation procedure on me last July, for a six-month checkup.
9The surgeon's always seemed a little standoffish, like maybe he'd prefer playing video games than talking to patients, but now that he's worked on me, maybe we have a closer relationship. I detailed two recent nights when I thought my heart was acting up.
He said the EKG looked fine, but that if I wanted to do another procedure he's ready.
I wondered; did he mean, like, do some more surgery this weekend? I saw that 2022 David Cronenberg movie, "Crimes of the Future," a dystopian future where people routinely do plastic surgery on each other, or rearrange organs out on the street, like the way some people get tattoos today, just to keep the boredom at bay.
I said, no thanks, that's OK (I got, like, plans; wash the dishes, do taxes, walk the dog, anything but plunging a soldering iron into my heart).
It's a little disconcerting knowing there are people in this world just waiting for some scalpel action to save themselves from another round of Fortnite.
Look, it's very simple, particularly in a military chain-of-command. Bad stuff that happens on your watch is your fault, and you need to fix it. A plane crash that happens on Donald Trump's watch - any U.S. plane crash for sure - is his fault. Period. It's his fault, and the fault of that Texas sidekick of his, Ted Cruz, working overtime to jam more aircraft into DCA for his personal travel convenience. It's especially Donald Trump's fault given his mantra, "I alone can fix it." So, fix it, Donald! It's time these bastards understand that with power comes responsibility. None of this DEI crap, trying to push responsibility onto people who weren't even there. Before you know it they'll start blaming the figure skaters.
Just a quick review before we head into another round of rain.
After a very dry January, Sacramento's rainy season stands at about 80% of normal. The coming rains will affect much of California, but once again, not Southern California, where the rain continues to be needed most.
I went down to the first of what I have no doubt will be many protests in front of the California State Capitol in the coming years regarding the vile Trump Administration. I thought the demonstration was going to be on the photogenic West Steps, but instead it was just off the sidewalk on 10th Street, and at first there were only ten people in attendance. Later, the group grew to about 40 or 50. The reason the West Steps weren’t used is because it takes time to get a permit, and a week since the Trump Administration started isn’t sufficient time.
I’m not entirely sure who organized the event. I saw the protest announcement on Reddit. The Sons of Liberty, a kind of liberal prepper group organized on Discord, had at least one person there.
This protest was not like the big marches eight years ago. The protest was a kind of awkward initiation ceremony for a new generation of protesters. Anyone who wanted to say something could say something, and they did. People stuttered and stumbled, sometimes speaking from the heart and sometimes from half scribbled notes. Natural leaders began to emerge. It was charming and earnest and heartfelt. I loved it all and I’m very encouraged.
Police on foot and mounted on horseback circled the group from a distance on all sides, and posed for photos of their own.
I was tasked with assembling the Rovox R-100 model of the ship RMS "Titanic." This is exciting - the first time I've assembled a ship model since a Viking ship model when I was about ten years old.
Verisimilitude was very important with the Viking ship model. It had to look just like it was Leif Ericksen's own ship. The Titanic model is more conceptual, though; it doesn't really resemble the real ship. Nevertheless, there is great detail in what's present: a stateroom, an ordinary guest room, a salon at the bottom of the grand staircase, and a bridge. It even has a music box that plays a tune that I can't identify. I hope it's "My Heart Will Go On."
Tonight, I completed the external shell of the ship, including the LEDs that light the interiors. The assembly instructions wanted me to put together all the furniture first before getting to the structure of the ship, but I said no. That would involve using my large and stubby fingers to put tiny candles in candleholders, glue together and upholster the furniture, assemble floral arrangements, tack down teacups, and do lots of other fine and tedious tasks first. I said no: give me the ship first.
There have been some mishaps. When I put together the ordinary guest room I failed to remove a couple of plastic strips that I was using for braces. So, these strips are now trapped in the room. They are apparently model surfboards. But why would any travelers on the Titanic have surfboards?
About 12 years ago, I read an article in the Wall Street Journal about the extreme sport of wintertime surfing along the coast of Maine. Surfers pour scalding water into their neoprene suits for maybe ten minutes of totally-tubular frigid fun in the rocking waters of the wintertime Atlantic (before frostbite sets in). I figure these surfboards belonged to a couple of intrepid Hawaiian surfers who, had not the sinking occurred, would have introduced America to this enjoyable extreme sport a century earlier.
Even though the Rovox R-100 is not a scale model, I like to pretend it is. Somehow the Titanic was released from its Belfast berth without a port side. It traveled almost all the way to Newfoundland without a visible means of propulsion. The stateroom lacked a front wall (so one could admire the giant bed), which admitted a constant stiff gale and sometimes rain, which is just what guests love while trying to sleep on transatlantic crossings. No lifeboats, of course. It's enough to make Leif Ericksen shake his head.
Thursday was the last day of business for the Walgreens at 14th and Broadway in Sacramento. I picked up some items, notably pricey eye vitamins, for cheap.
Inner city drug stores, which flourished in the 90s in Sacramento, have weakened as homelessness, shoplifting, and the omnipresent Amazon have pressed in on them in recent years. First, Rite Aid on Alhambra, and now Walgreens. And not just Sacramento- I understand Safeways have closed in San Francisco.
Well, that’s a strange sight; never seen it before. Jasper and I were walking past as traffic stopped for a freight train passing by, heading north in the majestic way they do from the old Southern Pacific rail yard into Midtown Sacramento. Then the train slowly came to a stop. After a short time it reversed, and headed back to the rail yard. It was as if they forgot to take something. Maybe a purse or a laptop, or rail cars full of purses or laptops; maybe a conductor or some oil or piles of lumber. Just a big Oopsie.
The blaming is fast and furious regarding the fires in Southern California. One focus concerns the Los Angeles County Department of Public Works, and whether the water distribution systems could have been better-prepared.
The LA Times article here describes a very-Californian, three-way, Catch-22 that impaired better water distribution:
1.) A number of water projects that might have helped with putting out the fires have been delayed, due to high costs, aggravated by the demands of environmental compliance;
2.) The people of Malibu, Topanga Canyon, and nearby areas have resisted paying higher water rates to fund these water projects because they already pay high water rates. What the local people really want is a slower pace of development, in part, because faster development increases fire dangers.
3.) Poor water distribution gives the locals the leverage they need to slow down development. Thus, there is no pressure from the locals to improve water distribution even as the infrastructure decays with time. Danger slowly creeps upward.
Probably what would help would be an external fund, maybe run by the state, to help accelerate water projects in very-fire-prone areas to completion. I'm sure there are plenty of places where improvements should be made.
Please note, better water distribution helps only at the margins. There is no municipal water system in the world that would suffice to stop or even slow down these Santa-Ana-wind driven fire tsunamis. Still, more water would have helped firemen save houses at the edges of the fire.
I think people need to stop heaping blame on the politicians; particularly state-level politicians like Gavin Newsom. The hard decisions are not made at his level. Try Los Angeles County instead. Assigning blame here is really nuanced - a classic case of systems failure. In some ways, these fires remind me of the sinking of the Titanic. Everywhere you look, you'll find earnest, slightly-blinkered people doing their very best. Just like with the Titanic.
One nice thing about government in California is that the politicians really do listen to the voice of the people, as expressed through their Neighborhood Associations. Sometimes, though, the righteous, self-governed people get things wrong, and that's when the trouble starts:
The lack of water has been a concern at both the city and county levels, and has come under scrutiny since the wildfire broke out Jan. 7. L.A. city officials, for example, have scrambled to explain why the 117-million-gallon Santa Ynez Reservoir was left empty for repairs.
But thousands of pages of state, county and municipal records reviewed by The Times show the disaster was years in the making. Red tape, budget shortfalls and government inaction repeatedly stymied plans for water system improvements in parts of the county like Malibu and Topanga outside the city of L.A. — including some that specifically cited the need to boost firefighting capacity.
...Plans to build tanks that would have provided more than 1 million gallons of additional water storage in fire-ravaged Malibu and Topanga were left on the drawing board.
Replacements of “aging and severely deteriorated” water tanks were postponed, according to county records, along with upgrades to pumping stations and “leak prone” water lines in the two communities, whose water system is run by the county’s Department of Public Works.
A plan to build a new connection to draw water from a neighboring water system during emergencies has also been delayed for years.
...In 2019, the county compiled a new “Priority Project List” that included several action items left over from six years prior. The 13 upgrades would have cost about $59.3 million, and all but one was scheduled to be complete by September 2024.
One of the projects considered most essential, according to city of Malibu records, was a planned connection to the Las Virgenes Municipal Water District that the county estimated in 2019 would cost about $4.1 million.
...The lack of progress on many of the plans has been driven in part by residents’ opposition to potential increases to their water rates, already among the highest in the county. Ensuring compliance with environmental regulations can also take years, according to Pestrella, the county’s public works chief.
Anti-development sentiment has been an especially limiting factor in Malibu, where Pestrella said the city has at times used insufficient water access as an excuse to restrict new construction.
“The community is not demanding it,” he said when asked why so many projects have failed to move forward.
“They’re not pro-development. They’re still utilizing the water system as a way to restrict development in Malibu. That’s the bottom line. That’s why it’s not happening at the pace it could happen at.”
No better way to end this post than with "The Blame," from "Titanic - The Musical."
Existential dread is quite a thing. It's a common reaction to viewing works of Surrealist art. In my case, I was feeling uncomfortable (as I should), rewatching David Lynch's "Rabbits" (2002) on YouTube.
Reading further, I was surprised to learn that existential dread can be treated with Tylenol. Don't let Surrealism make you uncomfortable! Let it float over and past you, like some of the floating headlands in Salvador Dali's Cadaques beach scenes. Remain serene despite the mental challenge! Say meh to David Lynch!:
"Pain extends beyond tissue damage and hurt feelings, and includes the distress and existential angst we feel when we're uncertain or have just experienced something surreal. Regardless of the kind of pain, taking Tylenol seems to inhibit the brain signal that says something is wrong."
Randles and colleagues knew from previous research that when the richness, order, and meaning in life is threatened -- with thoughts of death, for instance -- people tend to reassert their basic values as a coping mechanism.
The researchers also knew that both physical and social pain -- like bumping your head or being ostracized from friends -- can be alleviated with acetaminophen. Randles and colleagues speculated that the existentialist suffering we face with thoughts of death might involve similar brain processes. If so, they asked, would it be possible to reduce that suffering with a simple pain medicine?
Today, I returned to being a substitute teaching assistant, helping supervise school lunch and recess at the Montessori School, Capitol Campus. It was fun to see these kids again after a month’s interruption for the holidays: transitional kindergartners (TK), lower EL (grades 1-3), and upper EL (grades 4-6). Recess and lunch is different in some ways than I remember from my childhood, but some aspects remain timeless.
First up was TK lunch. The kids were brought into the lunchroom in cohorts. Hand sanitizer was provided to clean hands on the go. Many of the lunch food items were sealed in plastic pouches of great durability, and difficult for a young child to open. Some of the kids handed over the pouches for me to open, and I was barely able to do so, resorting to brute force. The kids were amused by my facial expressions. (One advantage older folks have over the youngers is having better faces for making faces.) Conversation ensued. Several kids pointed to pepperoni packets to register their approval of spicy food. One kid used celery sticks to make convincing tusks for a walrus impression. Good times.
Afterwards, the older kids came for lunch – I think upper EL. I was stationed at the tables just outside the lunchroom. There was a girls’ table, with one girl getting her hair braided by her friend. Lots of shifty eyes over there, with kids surreptitiously hitting each other when they thought no one else was looking. At a nearby guys’ table, someone spilled milk, which dribbled down the sock of one of the guys. Suddenly a student raced out of the lunchroom, paused, spit up, and then threw up a bit. “Are you OK? Why did you throw up?” I asked. He looked back to the lunchroom, turned back to me, and said, “It was too loud in there.” I found this explanation to be completely baffling. An inner ear thing? Who knows? He quickly left. I did what I could to clean up the mess. I was glad for the hand sanitizer in the lunchroom.
After my own lunch, it was time for the best part of the day, TK recess. The littles are so imaginative; they are barely tethered to reality. Always a good time with them.
But first, it was necessary to watch a couple of YouTube videos to get into spirit for recess. The kids stood in a circle and mirrored the movements of the dancers in the videos. The first video was the “Gimme That Garbage!” video (see above). Inspired by the music and the street scene in the second half of the video, one of the girls exclaimed “This was the Eighties!” (Ah, the remote past.)
At recess, music poured out of a couple of portable speakers. The kids danced to their favorite tunes. Today, their favorite songs were “Bad Blood” by Taylor Swift, and “Believer” by Imagine Dragons.
I tried hard to watch the kids and foresee accidents before they happened. There were two banged knees today, so I was not completely successful. At one point, I intervened when a girl was screaming for help while sliding backwards down the slide. I was embarrassed: they were playing a melodramatic game where the girl played a daughter-in-distress and another girl played the rescuing mother.
Some of the boys started digging a hole, but were reprimanded for their choice of location, under a couple of basketball hoops. So they started digging elsewhere. I came to inspect their two-inch-deep hole, and asked, “So, are you digging for hidden treasure?” One kid exclaimed, “Yes! We are digging for amethyst! The deeper we dig, the more amethysts will float up out of the hole, until we finally reach (and holding out his arms as if grabbing a watermelon) The Great Amethyst!” Another boy had a different explanation. “We’re trying to reach the Earth’s Core. About a meter down we’ll reach the Earth’s Mantle.” I was impressed: geologists had left me with a different understanding of the mantle’s depth.
Many of the kids were runners. One kid said, “I’m the fastest! Wanna see?” He then ran around the jungle gym. Another girl joined him for a second lap, and she outran him. So, I suppose you don’t have to actually outrun others in order to be the fastest. Another kid exclaimed, “I’m Scottish and I’m running even though my knee is hurt.” He had colorful bandages on his knee for proof, and I saw him zoom past several times. A third kid exclaimed “I’m sonic!” He did his best to be so.
Reality tried to intervene, with a fire not that far from campus, along the American River, but the fire department got a quick handle on it. Then a girl roped me into her play, first as a zombie, and then as a pterodactyl. At first, I was the dinosaur hatchling and she was the mother; then vice versa. But I had to keep my eyes on all the kids; not just her. Time to roam.
Afterwards, it was time for recess for the older kids, and Club M (after-school care until the parents picked up their kids). A lot of time standing around watching kids on the playground, and intervening if necessary. I’m still hampered by not knowing everyone’s names, but that will come with time.
A kid came around who I had talked with last month: the new kid in school, without many friends, maybe a bit doleful. Last month we talked about space travel. Today, he started comparing our heights. I mentioned that I seem to be getting shorter with age; maybe some deterioration in the spine. He replied, “We start to die when we’re twenty-five years old. The number of replacement cells can’t keep up with the number of dying cells.” With that cheerful note he went to go sit down on the swings.
So, a good day, tempered by memories of recesses past, long before the remote Eighties. Maybe someday school experiences like today’s will start to seem tedious, but not yet.
It's all quite confusing about TikTok remaining active. I'm glad; I love TikTok. Still, it's clearly illegal for it remain active. We're entering a new era where authorities make laws, and no one bothers to follow them. Which is good or bad, depending on the issue. But it is certainly strange.
Saturday night, January 18th. I’ve been at the emergency vet with Jasper. The pup somehow snagged a nail and it ripped. The vet removed the nail and bandaged it. The cone is called an “Elizabethan Collar”: I’m disappointed it’s not made of lace.
When I got home, I tried to walk Jasper, but he balked. He had that vacant look of a disoriented animal. Maybe meds; maybe pain. I noticed Jasper showed no interest in the wound dressing, so I removed the collar and gave him food and water. Reenergized, Jasper went on a second walk - still short.
Now, sleep and healing.
[UPDATE: Jasper has been healing well. I removed the dressing Monday evening. Seriously well-done dressing. These emergency vets are expensive.]
