Date:	2009-07-09 22:29
Subject:	Sunset.
Security:	Public
Mood:	good

Date:	2009-06-24 21:12
Subject:	Love letters in the Sanford.
Security:	Public
Mood:	amused

Say what you will about this whole Mark Sanford business...wait, let me recap briefly for those of you living under rocks:

1. South Carolina Republican Governor Mark Sanford, a man discussed as a rising star in the GOP and thus potential presidential candidate in 2012 (also, quite possibly a closet libertarian), goes missing. Doesn't tell anyone where he's gone, not even the lieutenant governor.
2. Upon hearing that hey, people are looking for him and are a teeny bit concerned, Sanford calls to check in, says he's cutting his "vacation" short, and is "taken aback" by the reaction of South Carolinians.
3. Sanford's staff tells the public, no worries, the Gov was just out chillaxing in the Appalachian wilderness. It ain't easy bein' a governor, you know. Sometimes a dogg just has to up and get away.
3a. Speculation holds that Sanford was taking part in the newly-annual nude hike of the Appalachian Trail.
4. Sanford returns last night, holds a press conference this morning, at which time he informs the public that, oops, he wasn't actually hiking the AT, he was really in Argentina.
4a(and this is the biggie). With his mistress. Ladies and gentlemen, the future of the GOP, Governor Mark Sanford!

I'm starting to wonder if a prerequisite to being considered a rising star in Carolina politics is to have an extramarital affair (see Edwards, John), or if maybe it's an initiation rite for some governors' secret society (see Spitzer, Eliot; McGreevey, James; Paterson, David).

Whatever.

The point is, Mark Sanford writes better love letters than Bill O'Reilly. Check it out:

Sanford, to his Argentinian mistress:

You have a particular grace and calm that I adore. You have a level of sophistication that so fitting with your beauty. I could digress and say that you have the ability to give magnificent gentle kisses, or that I love your tan lines or that I love the curve of your hips, the erotic beauty of you holding yourself (or two magnificent parts of yourself) in the faded glow of the night’s light...

O'Reilly, from his sexual harrassment case brought by a FOX News producer in 2004:

So anyway I'd be rubbing your big boobs and getting your nipples really hard, kinda' kissing your neck from behind...and then I would take the other hand with the falafel thing and I'd just put it on your p***y but you'd have to do it really light, just kind of a tease business...

Mark Sanford FTW.

Date:	2009-05-23 11:14
Subject:	The creeping invasion of commercialism.
Security:	Public
Mood:	angry
Music:	Warm Sound - Zero 7

Has anyone else noticed that LiveJournal seems to have embedded audio advertisements into your friends' page? Every time I load it up, I hear a ridiculous Old Navy ad for flip-flops, and it's making me increasingly irate. There's no link or pop-up that I can close, no way to shut it off.

Thank you for listening to my Saturday morning rant, please drive through.

I'm not sure if this is funny or sad.

Someone has been firing a gun off and on for the past several hours somewhere near or in my neighborhood. It's not unusual to hear the odd rifle shot, as I live on a river and people frequently hunt waterfowl. But it happened at 2230 as well as just now at 0015, and I'm pretty sure the little duckies are asleep. In fact, I'm pretty sure that lots of people are trying to sleep, so I decided I'd check the local municipal laws and find out what constitutes a noise violation.

Fortunately, the town of Westerly has gotten their act together enough to put all of this helpful stuff online.

While looking for the ordinance, I found this, in section 171-5(B) of the town code:

"Yelling or shouting. No person or combination of persons shall, for continued duration, yell, shout, whistle or make other sounds which create a noise disturbance across a real property boundary or any public street or within a noise-sensitive area."

Now, I know that there's a bit of wiggle room on the 1st Amendment, but I'm fairly certain it doesn't extend to shouting on a public street. Ever.

Westerly is also a beach community, and I found this gem, under which authority I think we just annexed about 1/5th of the Earth's surface:

"§ 182-1 Bathing attire.

It shall be unlawful for any person to bathe in the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, Long Island Sound, Narragansett Bay and the tributaries thereto or upon the shores thereof without his body being properly clothed below the waist and her body being properly clothed below and above the waist."

Really? The whole Atlantic Ocean? I hope we're prepared to defend this rather sizable parcel. Perhaps we can enlist my friendly, gun-wielding, noise-happy neighbor.

Justice David Souter is retiring.

I had a feeling this was going to happen eventually. It's no secret that Souter, a New Hampshirean and Yankee at heart, intensely dislikes Washington and has been chafing at the bit to get out of there for at least a decade.

It's just a shame to see him go. I liked Souter, on some weird personal level, not only because of his New England roots, but also because he seemed like a good guy. Liberal but cautious, an avid runner, quiet, guarded, and an excellent jurist.

Also, I'm not very concerned with his replacement, since I implicitly trust President Obama to nominate someone in his mold. Still, despite his relatively low profile, he will be missed on the Supreme Court.

Date:	2009-04-27 20:57
Subject:	Finally, something that makes me feel good about Auto-Tune.
Security:	Public
Mood:	amused
Music:	isn't it obvious?

The Auto-Tune "feature", which, if you're unfamiliar, causes that computerish synthesized effect in a singer's voice, basically removes the need for singers to have anything even approximating good pitch. I hate it. It has ruined music and I can't wait for it to go away.

Thankfully someone has put it to good use.

Date:	2009-04-25 16:24
Subject:	I'm sorry, Dorothy.
Security:	Public
Mood:	shocked
Music:	NFL Draft/Yanks vs. Sox

I've done it again. I've killed a celebrity.

I know, ridiculous, but I swear, every once in awhile the name and face of a random famous person travels through my head, and on at least three occasions, that person has died the same day or the next.

It happened with Bob Hope. It happened with Tony Randall. I'm nearly positive it's happened with others, though I would have to go back in these archives and check.

Now it's happened with Bea Arthur.

See, last night I had a dream, the only detail of which I can remember is that I was talking to Bea Arthur, as Maude, except that Maude had that freaky two-faced personality, as in the Southwest Airlines commercial.

This morning, she died of cancer at age 86.

I should probably be locked up.

On the other hand, I make sure to think about Abe Vigoda all the time, and that guy's died at least twice in the papers.

Anyway, very sad about Bea Arthur, who was an exceptionally funny woman and, for whatever reason, projected this air of dignity in my mind. I absolutely confess to being a Golden Girls junkie when I was a kid.

Epitaph?

"And then there wasn't Maude."

Date:	2009-04-24 01:09
Subject:	The best thing I ever saw on FOX News.
Security:	Public
Mood:	tired

If you haven't seen it, check out what Shepard Smith, anchor at FOX News, said on the air. I'm not sure if I'm more shocked by the words he used, or by the position he so forcefully and clearly staked out.

Date:	2009-04-13 18:45
Subject:	The oddest things happen on a Monday.
Security:	Public
Mood:	exhausted
Music:	The voices in my head.

This has got to be the oddest trio of celebrity news I've ever seen in one day:

1. Phil Spector, former husband to Ronnie Spector and producer of pretty much every great pop, rock, and Motown sensation in the 1960s, found guilty of murder.

2. Mark "The Bird" Fidrych, former All-Star pitcher for the Detroit Tigers, known for talking to baseballs and himself on the mound, dead of an accidental suicide, aged 54.

3. Marilyn Chambers, trailblazing adult film star who, unlike most of today's porn starlets, crossed over into mainstream (albeit B-movie) cinema and had an exceptionally long career, dead of unknown causes, aged 56.

Also, a spot of sympathy to Phillies fans, who lost Harry Kalas today, found unconscious in his broadcast booth just before the Fightin' Phils were to take the field against the Washington Nationals.

Every so often, the realization of what has happened today hits me like a cold wall of water.

It is the most refreshing soaking I have ever gotten.

Mr. Chief Justice, my dear friends, my fellow Americans:

The oath that I have taken is the same oath that was taken by George Washington and by every President under the Constitution. But I assume the Presidency under extraordinary circumstances never before experienced by Americans. This is an hour of history that troubles our minds and hurts our hearts.

My fellow Americans, our long national nightmare is over.

Our Constitution works; our great Republic is a government of laws and not of men. Here the people rule.

( The inauguration of President Barack Obama, with a special guest appearance by Sam Cooke at the end. )

It’s been a long time coming, but I know a change is gonna come.

Claiborne deBorda Pell
November 22, 1918 - January 1, 2009

Date:	2008-12-13 12:51
Subject:	Learned Rob.
Security:	Public
Mood:	tired
Music:	A Child Is Born - Oscar Peterson

From the "Nearly Anonymous Fame Dept.":

Yesterday, the Wall Street Journal's law blog linked to my Facebook tribute page for Judge Learned Hand. This means nothing, other than another instance of the internet version of two ships passing in the night. Still, I feel comfortable saying that I'm now published in the Wall Street Journal.

With Barack Obama's election to the U.S. presidency, the final status hurdle has been leapt over on the way to racial equality. Don't mistake that statement for blind optimism or ignorance. In fact, here is a vignette from my personal life. A few days ago, when my mother was being released from the hospital to home care, my father met with a hospice social worker to determine a nursing schedule. Lots of nurses and caregivers have been and will be coming through our house, and the social worker asked my father, in a low voice, "Is it OK if someone of color comes by?"

My father was aghast.

I was fortunate to grow up in a family that preaches tolerance for all humankind, despite growing up in an incredibly homogeneous small town. Indeed, my father recalls times during his youth when he and my Uncle Pat would head to Birdland in NYC to check out some jazz, and they would be two white faces amongst a near-uniformly black crowd. He remembers going to Florida on vacation during college, and finding that the restrooms in certain places were segregated - WHITES and COLOREDS. And thankfully, he taught me that all men and women are created equal.

To be fair, that social worker wasn't herself racist, but rather was sensitive to clients she'd had in the past, some of whom would not allow black or Hispanic nurses to take care of their loved ones. I should remind everyone that I live in New England, the most liberal corner of the country, and that this is 2008, 40 years after the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and 224 years after the beginning of the end of slavery in Rhode Island.

Abraham Lincoln freed all slaves in 1865 and paid the price with his life. John F. Kennedy and his brother Bobby worked for the passage of the Civil Rights Act and suffered the same fate. Dr. King preached nonviolent protest, spoke of a day when black children and white children could play together in harmony, and he too was slain.

Now comes Barack Hussein Obama; the son of a dark-as-night Kenyan and a white-as-Wonder-Bread Kansan; a skinny kid with a funny, Muslim name; a child of food stamps and no privilege; a young man who briefly lost his way and then found the gates of Columbia and Harvard; a community organizer who fought for those who could not fight for themselves; a public servant who puts commitment to the ideals that made this nation great above the ideals of self; a black man.

And the 44th President of the United States of America.

While so many others are working to set back the cause of equality, using easier-to-swallow rhetoric like "welfare queen" or "you and I" (Sarah Palin, drawing insidious lines between her supporters and those not like them), or redistricting and disenfranchising minorities, President-elect Barack Obama has advanced the founding principle of this country - that all men are created equal - in one massive surge.

He did not get here alone, but rather on the backs of the millions of supporters who donated money, time, sweat, heart, and passion to his campaign. People who believed in three words that remind us so simply yet forcefully the singular call of citizenship in America - Yes We Can.

Now it is up to us to take up this mantle of change and support President Obama as he attempts to remake the United States and lead us back to nobility, greatness, and beneficence. Go out and volunteer your time, be it coaching Little League or serving on civic boards. Let your voices be heard, but let those voices be patient though forceful, rational though passionate, unyielding yet fair to all points of view.

This is our time. Not just the 63 million who voted for the winner, but the 230 million-plus who share the same common thread of living under the 50 stars and 13 stripes of our proud flag. We must not grow complacent again, we must not forget our hopes, we must not fail.

The torch has been passed...the final symbolic hurdle has been cleared, and by an overwhelming margin.

...America wins.

Date:	2008-11-04 22:20
Subject:	Truth.
Security:	Public
Mood:	ecstatic

A few more shots from earlier today in the east village:

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

My small step towards change:

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

I'm waiting in one of two very long lines outside of the Barrier-Free housing complex on 2nd St., after having driven two hours to get to NYC this morning.

I have never waited more than 5 minutes to vote in any election. This is stunning.

And I couldn't be happier about it.

Posted via LiveJournal.app.

Date:	2008-11-03 22:47
Subject:	Your most valuable possession.
Security:	Public
Mood:	hopeful

It would be futile to attempt to describe tomorrow's presidential election without delving into clichéd language. I have seen 7 Election Days in my 29 years; my earliest involvement with the political process was my portrayal of Michael Dukakis in the 4th grade debate and mock election. (Mimicking the real Dukakis, I lost badly. Guess my fellow 9 year-olds didn't appreciate the photo op of me at the top of the slide wearing a helmet.)

I learned about the Great Depression and its aftermath, World War II, from my grandparents, who were slightly younger than I am now at the time. I learned about the message of the 1960s from my parents, and I learned about the 1980s through Max Headroom, MTV, and Doonesbury. To me, tomorrow represents the most critical time in my personal history, a chance for voters to shape the course of the country in an incredibly significant way.

The three of you who occasionally check in on this blog know my preference for Barack Obama, so I won't berate you with the whys of voting for the Senator from Illinois. Though I had great respect for John McCain, dating back to 1996 and my firsthand experience watching him perform in the Senate, I feel that he has tacked too far towards his base and is allowing his principles to be compromised for the purpose of winning an election. Mr. Obama speaks to me, and to many Americans, in a way that has become rare amongst members of the political elite.

However, I do have one very important thing to say about tomorrow's election: vote. It doesn't matter to me whether you vote for Obama or McCain, whether you're a Yellow Dog Democrat, a neoconservative, a member of Focus on the Family, or the head of the Wasilla PTA. I don't care if you vote Nader, Barr, Larouche, Kinky Friedman or Bozo the Clown. It's not important if you're in New York, New Mexico, or Newfoundland. (Well, yeah, if you live in Newfoundland, you're a bit late -- your election was weeks ago, you silly Noofie.) I only ask that you vote, and that you mean it. There is but one thing that this wonderful messed-up experiment we've called "democracy" for 219 years requires, and that is for every eligible citizen to go out and participate. The most motivated among us will donate money, time, energy, and their hearts to campaign for everyone from their favored presidential nominee down to town dogcatcher. But even the laziest of us must go out and cast our vote when duty calls. And its call is loud and clarion this time around. Make yourself heard. Make yourself count. Make your country, yourself.

************
Two more items worth highlighting, on this Election Eve:

Senator Obama, if he wins, unfortunately will be celebrating a victory while mourning the death of his grandmother, Madelyn Dunham, a woman who raised him in his mother's stead and likely informed many of the qualities that I admire in him.

There is another fallen soldier to remember today, a man who served his country with honor, distinction and, quite frankly, the biggest set of cojones in history, highlighted during a particularly grim battle in the Vietnam War. No, I'm not talking about Senator McCain, although I will forever laud him for his service.

I'm talking about John W. Ripley, a Marine above all, who passed away this week at 69 years old. His story is the stuff of legend, and it is required study for any potential Marine, and should be motivation to the rest of us as well. During the Easter Offensive of 1972, Colonel Ripley faced down against the most massive offensive launched by the NVA during the whole of the war (larger still than the more-famous Tet Offensive of 1968), as covan of the Vietnamese Third Marine Battalion. The stats -- NVA: 20,000 soldiers, 200 tanks. Ripley's and Major Le Ba Binh's forces: roughly 700 men. His orders: "hold and die".

Ripley himself described it best: "The idea that I would be able to even finish the job before the enemy got me was ludicrous. When you know you're not gonna make it, a wonderful thing happens: You stop being cluttered by the feeling that you're going to save your butt."

Instead, in a total suicide mission, Col. Ripley, realizing the only way to slow the onslaught of the massive NVA advance was to blow up the Dong Ha bridge, did the unthinkable, the impossible. With help from U.S. Army Major John Smock, he merely made roughly a dozen trips between the southern bank of the river and the underside of the bridge, shuttling 40 pounds of explosives at a time. The operation took over two hours and, in his own words, required swinging "like a trapeze artist in a circus."

"I used my teeth to crimp the detonator and thus pinch it into place on the fuse. I crimped it with my teeth while the detonator was halfway down my throat."

500 pounds of explosives later, he detonated the bridge and thwarted the advance. It seems to me that words and analogies cannot describe accurately just how amazing this feat was.

Ripley made it out of Vietnam, but wasn't done. Among other things, he earned the distinction of "Quad Body" by graduating from four of the toughest military training programs in the world: the Army Rangers, Marine reconnaissance, Army Airborne, and Britain's Royal Marines. He is the only Marine enshrined in the U.S. Army Ranger Hall of Fame.

You can have your action heroes, the Schwarzeneggers and Rambos and Riddicks. I'll take John Ripley hanging from a bridge against 20,000 men and 200 tanks any day.

************
Go out and vote, folks. It does a (national) body good.