Damn. The hospital called, and needed Harp to come into work. Bad for me, worse for her, good for you. I guess. So while I'm sitting here, munching Edamame, and searching for a free sound recording program, I figure I can rewrite my post that went ka-plooey.
I was the typical kid with a chip on his shoulder. The cool kids, the popular kids, the football players, and their braindead ilk, shunned me, and so I shunned them right the fuck back. In junior high, I was way into creative endeavors. ( Always had been. Even as a kid, I was submitting poetry and drawings to Highlights. ) But by the time I was in 8th grade or so, I had wised up to the fact that this wasn't going to win me any friends, or get me that first kiss. In fact, if anything, it was just going to earn me even more scorn and derision from the aforementioned "let's go throw a ball around, bump into each other a bunch, and then take a shower together before we throw a party and don't invite kids that aren't also on the football team or old Alabama money," crowd. I didn't know what to do. I was an awkward kid, and had no self confidence whatsoever. And to top it all off, I had the sneaking suspicion that daddy never understood.
And so, I did what most kids like me that age do, I turned to drug use, indie rock, and juvenile delinquency. What fun. Bashing mailboxes on warm southern nights. Riding in the back of a pickup truck, cranking the pixies, and hucking eggs at the cars parked at a party we weren't invited to attend. Urinating in the jocks' gatorade in the locker room, and then sticking around to watch them drink it after practice. Joyriding in cars. Breaking windows. Sneaking onto the golf course at night, tearing up the greens, joyriding the carts into ponds, and shitting in the holes. And Halloween. Oh. Halloween. What fun. What fun. Smashing Pumpkins, even if they were a country band, I'd love them for their name, and the memories it invokes. What fun.
There were more serious things too. There were fights and beatings and drug deals and driving around Montgomery at seventeen on six hits of acid, watching the Christmas lights turn the streets into a carnival, oblivious to the threat I posed to other drivers and pedestrians. But for the most part, my fun was harmless to anyone other than myself and my poor mother. I was just wild. (And thank God. Otherwise I'd probably be one of those pathetic souls acting out my childhood well into adulthood. Everyone needs wild days.) I was just always the guy who never wanted to be chicken. I was just down for whatever. I was just a dumb ass. (And it took trips to the hospital and jail for me, and rehabs, prison, and mental homes for friends before I realized how stupid I was.)
And then there was Kmart.
I was never much of a thief. I had problems with stealing. I was against it. Although, I certainly didn't mind sharing in the fruits of others' theft. I'm sure I sipped a thousand swallows of purloined vodka before I ever hit 16. But.
A bunch of my friends took to stealing CDs from Kmart. After several weeks of watching my friends' music collections swell, with no consequences, I got greedy. I wanted in. "Besides," I reasoned, "Kmart is a giant chain store, they have tons of money, it's not like I'm stealing from a local merchant." And so. And so I did. The five finger discount. Hoo-ray.
And one Sunday when I was sixteen, I was in Kmart with my friends Mike and Lawson. We were busy slicing the bottom of longboxes (remember CD longboxes?) with razors and cramming them into our clothes when I noticed a woman staring at us. We figured we were slick, so we decided not to worry. But I worried. Something was up. There was a bad vibe in the store. And so as we left, I hung back in the Valentine's Day specialty aisle, and there, amid the heart-shaped boxes, greeting cards and candy, I stashed my purloined CDs. It's important to note I did this first. I headed out, and as I did,. I saw Mike walking out the front door. Lawson had already split. Then I heard a voice over the intercom calling for a ladder at the front of the store, and three men bolted out the front door.
I was no dummy. I knew what was up. So I strolled to the counter, bought a pack of cigarettes (As I always did when I was stealing stuff. I never stole things and left. I figured it would look suspicious. I always lingered around, bought something, and then left.) and split. Outside, I saw Lawson lying on the ground with a guy on top of him. I think he must ave tried to run. Mike was standing closer to the door, watching. There was a guy standing next to him, with Mike's arm in his left hand, and a stack of CDs in his right. Fuck.
And they had the whole thing on tape. They had everything on tape. They had tapes of several weeks of sullen teenages in army clothes sulking into their store and lingering around the CD section. And they had a suspiciously empty metal section, even though metal wasn't really well in the Rome, Georgia Kmart. And on closer inspection they saw the kids stashing CDs. And they knew we'd be back, so they waited, and got us. And because they were incredibly cool, they didn't arrest us, they only made us return the CDs. I say us because Mike and Lawson told them who I was, not that I blame them. And then they told us that we weren't allowed back into Kmart. Ever.
And so, I've been thinking about that a lot the past few days. And I have to say, I'm sorry Kmart.
Harper just got back into town. And IE crashed when I wrote a long, and I dare say entertaining, post chronicling my adventures as a shoplifitng youth. So I'm very sorry. but you shant be seeing many updates here today. If any, after this. But I will return tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow.
From the Nation: The people bilked in Enron's sudden implosion were not only the 12,000 employees whose 401(k) savings disappeared while Enron insiders were smartly cashing out more than $1 billion of their own shares. The other losers are working people across America. Enron was effectively owned by them. On June 30, before the CEO abruptly resigned and the stock price began its terminal decline, 64 percent of Enron's 744 million shares were owned by institutional investors, mainly pension funds but also mutual funds in which families have individual accounts. At midyear, the company was valued at $36.5 billion, having fallen from $70 billion in less than six months. The share price is now close to zero. Either way you figure it, ordinary Americans--the beneficial owners of pension funds--lost $25-$50 billion because they were told lies by the people and firms they trusted to protect their interests. (via mefi)
Seriously, what do you expect? I'm about to try and do some major site overhauls, and although this space is for me, I want to know why you're here. I mean, I know that you're probably killing time at work, but what exactly does this site have that others don't. If anything? Aside from an unemployed webflunkie that is.
What do you like best, posts like a) this, b) this or c) this? Or is it the mix? Comments appreciated.
If you're having trouble with Blogger today (I wasn't but Ezra and Helen Jane were) Ev says to sign out and then back in again. FYI: that usually solves the majority of my blgger problems.
I wrote a long screed in response to Richard Poe's attack on pigdog. But then, Pigdog put up its own defense. And, quite honestly, Poe freaks me out, what with the defense of hate crimes, and guns, and Robert E Lee. so I checkened out and pulled it. Why? Because,um. Because, er. Because I'm chickenshit.
Bravo. My biggest beef with Ayn Rand isn't that she became the poster woman for right wing, "fuck the poor," let the markets regulate themselves, Republican party reptiles everywhere. It's that her books are boring as hell. Bore. Ring.
I created several gifs that I'm going to rotate into the top right corner. The beautiful thing about them is that you can download them, put them on your page, and link to my site. Were you so inclined. Which I'm not saying you are. But it'd be pretty nice.
This, I can't believe. MLK's famous "I have a dream" speech was given, to some extent at least, off of the cuff. This is just amazing to me, that one of the greatest (if not the? It's certainly up there) oratorical achievements of the 20th century wasn't completely scripted.
But then again, the great ones always write their own speeches. Right, Dubya? (via mefi)
Rob Morse has strong words for Ken Lay. And I completely agree. If Ken Lay doesn't serve hard time, after the catastrophe he caused for his workers, his investors, and the economy as a whole (while pocketing millions), something is seriously fucked up with the American justice system.
The California vs. Texas grudge match contiunues, this time with a federal prosecutor from San Francisco overseeing the investigation of Enron. I'd just like to point out that while Texas might have the money, oil, and president on their side, we have truth, justice, and incredibly strong ganja.
They don’t have septic tanks. What they do have are long pieces of narrow plastic pipe stretching from their trailers to ditches they’ve dug to serve as catch basins. Once water and human waste drop from the pipe into the ditches, it flows toward a makeshift lagoon about 100 yards from McMeans’ trailer. 'The judge has told me either to get a septic tank, move or go to jail,' said McMeans, who said he injured his back in 1989. He said his monthly disability check is 'about $600, and my trailer costs $300.'" Poverty in Alabama.
The Christmas Tree is coming down today. It's gonna be today for a few reasons. 1) I'm pretty sure Sunset Scavenger picks them up on Mondays. 2) Harp's out of town. This sort of thing upsets her. Best if it just disappears while she's away and then I'll tell her it went to live with another family, a nice one that lives in Des Moines and has a big yard with lots of other trees and a small boy named Frederick who will water it every day and take it on long walks around the neighborhood. 3) Steve's coming for a visit, which means I won't have to drag it out alone. It's not his brute physical strength I need (thank God! I'd be in deep shit were that the case), it's his moral support and confirmation that none of the neighbors are looking. 4) There's no way in hell this tree is still going to be here in February.
As noted earlier, I've switched hosts. I've already noticed a faster load time. I'll be able to run scripts that I couldn't before. Plus, I'm pretty psyched to be doing business with Michal.
I love found photos and found objects. So naturally, I *love* Found magazine, which is all that and a platter of audio. And, lucky day, it comes in dead tree form also.
I put up a Presidio Pet Cemetery mini-site on my shiny new host. This is a temporary address. Eventually, (as soon as the transfer goes through with Network Solutions. Goodbye, NovaHosting, Hello, Cornerhost) the address will be at http://www.honan.net/PetCem/index.html. But for now... it is what it is.
This is the thing. If someone knocks on your door, you either know that person or you do not. If you know that person, who better, than you, to judge the appropriateness of answering the door naked? And if you don't know them, if it is a solicitor or a summoner or some other annoyance, what better way to drive them off than by introducing them to The Royal Philharmonic, so to speak.
And i've got to ask, is this really a problem? Just because one guy likes to be naked, apparnatly in the privacy of his own home, you want ban answering the door naked alltogether?
Preposterous. This is lifestyle legislation at its worst, and apprantly, the good Rep. Pelote has already realized it as she is backpeddling like mad, away from what she said and into the realm of what she "meant."
Oh come on now. That's just naive. If you're name was Hitler, and you made pants, you wouldn't call them Hitler Pants, now would you? Sorry, pal, but sometimes, you just have an unfortunate name.
We all have to go, sometime, somehow. Death is, as they say, a part of life. Despite your regimen at 24 hour fitness, despite all the fiber, despite the good cholesterol and lowfat diet. You're going to die. Yep. We all are. Deal with it.
Mark Morford is, by far, my favorite columnist writing today. I don't think anyone else, anyone, is a consistently funnier writer. I can't even remember how long I've subscribed to The Morning Fix, now. But however long it's been, Morford has transformed, over time, from a columnist to a familiar friend. Sort of. In a non-creepy sort of way, I mean. One who chats me up in the mornings, saying witty and outrageous things, just as I'm getting good and caffeinated. Morford is funny because his hyperbole stems from honesty.
Sure, that "we respond to your email" crap is chumpsville. And there are a lot of times I disagree with him. Or just don't understand what the hell his point is. Or he's a bit too touchy feely. But day in and day out, I enjoy his stuff. I was depressed and outraged when he was suspended last year, and half-afraid that he might not be back. (well, depressed may be stretching it a bit. but certainly disspirited.) Because every once in a while, his columns grab me. Sometimes because they're sincere, sometimes because they're scathinglyfunny.
I don't post deeply personal things. That's not something I want to do. And besides, the last thing the world needs is another navelgazing white boy from the burbs blithering about his feelings. Getting all Chicken Soup for the Soul on your ass makes me feel petty.
So, obviously, with a lead-in like that, I've got some soup to sell you. There. You've been forewarned.
Harper left this morning to go visit her parents for a week. Not only is she the coolest woman I've ever met, the thing that I love most in this world, and the source of all my happiness (trust me, I used to be a grumpy fucker), but she's also my very best friend. The best friend I've ever had.
And so when she left this morning, it was really hard for me. Which was odd, because usually I look at a week as chump change. "What do you mean you're going to miss me? It's only a year." That's always been my attitude.
But not with Harper.
I just... I can't stand to be apart from her. At all. I enjoy her so incredibly much, and she makes me so very happy. And this morning, before she left, I started to cry. Because I already missed her, and I just didn't want to see her go. Even for a day.
I'm not a get tough on crime kind of guy. Nor do I tend to rally round the flag. Patriotism, in fact, makes me a little uncomfortable. I've lived in Islamic countries, twice. Once in a nation bordering Afghanistan. Furthermore, I now live in JWL's backyard. Or, rather, he lived in mine. I belong to the ACLU. I vigorously (and always have) oppose the death penalty. Above all else, politically and socially, I believe in human rights.
But I also believe in responsibility. You have to be responsible for your actions. JWL actively engaged in human rights violations. He has to pay the piper for doing that. Have we forgotten what thugs the Taliban were?
And before you sing me a song of the Northern Alliance. Or Chevron's misconduct. I agree with you. Completely.
But the guilt of many doesn't exonerate the guilt of one. JWL has to pay for his sins.
I've been trying to come up with something clever to leave on jish's voice mail. But since I can't, I think I'll just stick to the familiar and go with something stupid.
In overturning an impaired driving conviction, the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled Monday that a loophole in Idaho law means marijuana users can drive legally as long as they don't drive erratically and can pass a field sobriety test.
The Presidio has a unique challence among national parks: self sufficeincy. It's unique in other ways too. It's an urban park. People live in the park. It used to be a naval base. Thus, the Presidio Trust has been established to please a variety of interests, make the land mixed use, and, yes, make money.
I'd feel a lot better about the Presidio Trust if the Fisher family wasn't involved. They've got a track record of brutalizing the environment. I hope for the best, for the Presidio, but I fear the worst.
Jay Freni is one of my oldest and dearest friends. I also consider his mother and brother to be good friends as well. Andrew, his younger brother, has been playing drums since I met him, probably since he was in junior high school.
A few weeks ago, I was talking to Jay on the phone, and he told me that Andrew was moving to England to work on his band, adom. Today, Jay sent me a great writeup on Adom from Creative Loafing. The businessman angle is bizarre to me. Yet it's also a tres interesting concept. Good luck Andrew.
I'm posting this with a request that if you do follow this link, you'll show Jeff some respect, and not flame him. In fact, I'd hope that you'll respect him for a) expressing his opinions and b) sticking by them in the face of criticism. I, for one, respect him for that. I ran this by him before posting it. I'd also like to point out that "beakdip's banter" is really only intended for a small circle of friends and family. It doesn't have the traffic my site, or Ezra's, does.
Jeff's Thursday post really bothered me. And I made comments to reflect that. Since then, I've been criticized for speaking up as I did by more than one person. Not, I should note, by Jeff. (Nor am I mad at Jeff, upset with Jeff, or offended by Jeff. I just disagree with him. Tremendously so. This is no way means that I don't love him dearly.)
Was I wrong? Did I handle this badly? To me, after all, the comments section is your own little "letters to the editor" page. People have disagreed with my posts on my comments section, and I've (usually) stuck to my guns, though in one or two cases they've moved me to change my mind (As Mac did over the weekend).
Blogs are publications, in my opinion. Sure, they're personal. But if you're presenting an opinion, particularly one that you know might be controversial anyway, should you expect flak in the comments?
I don't know, quite honestly... My opinion is that you should be prepared to accept the consequences of what you say in the same forum that you express them in. Matthew made the case to me over the weekend, however, that Jeff is just trying to express himself, and I came along and crapped all over him. Which I did. But was doing so wrong?
If you can go to jail for graffiti, you should go to jail for spoiling and poisoning our public land. And as an avid cyclist and nature lover, I've got to say, I'm psyched about the mountain bikers getting fined for trail cutting. If everyone cut trails (particularly here, it isn't like the GGNRA is in the boonies, for crying out loud. It's in a major metroplolitan area), the GGNRA would soon be a mud flat. Fair's fair.
By now, you've doubtlessly heard that Stephen Ambrose has been accused of, well, liberating texts from other authors. Here's a side-by-side look at some of the texts in question.
I took a lot of (in my opinion) great pictures this weekend. Particularly in the presidio. I'm going to put several batched up over the next few days. But here's one set, on photographica, of hippie hill in Golden Gate Park.
magullo says: I am an idealist. I'd like the government to represent its constituents, not to enrich itself and friends. I'd like a president who doesn't hide a DUI conviction (or a friend's massive business troubles) until it explodes at the last minute. I like people who are upfront about what they do, even when they've made a mistake. Specially when they've made a mistake. I'd like the government to act as it asks the rest of us to act. I'd like to see some decency in American politics. I am, as I said, an idealist.
If Clinton had been involved in the Enron debacle and associated scandal, Rush and company would have been agititating for his arrest and prosecution by now. Also, I've always thought that "the big 5" were utterly useless. Now, however, I see that they can be quite useful for covering up criminal activity.
I've answered this a few times, but just on email. So for the record, it's: Alan Ginsberg, Bill Hicks, Che Guevara, d. boon, John Lennon, Kurt Cobain, and Leon Trotsky.
look up at the bar across the top of the page if this leaves you clueless
I don't really have a pithy rejoinder for that one. I mean, the headline contains the phrase "Bodily Functions." Okay okay, I do have a pithy rejoinder. That headline is like when you say Budweiser. (and if you're too young to get that joke, or you've never been to a Georgia Tech home game, I guess an explanation is in order.) Bad Mat, bad.
Oh my... I just filled out an online form for some part time freelance work. I submitted it and copied myself. When the copy came into Eudora, I noticed that I had typed "I have worked at an aditor at several...." Yeah. Go Mat. I'm definitely not getting that job.
The only lesson I've learned form San Mateo is what too many Bobos can do to perfectly good farmland. Sure, San Mateo doesn't have a homeless problem. But I've got a news flash for you Mark Simon, it doesn't have anything else either! I mean sure, it has McMansions and chain stores, but it doesn't have an urban area. Guess what Mark: San Mateo wouldn't have a homeless problem no matter what kind of program it has in place. Even if it didn't have a program. Why? Because it's the suburbs, you nitwit!
I love how this is presented as a throwaway line: Yes, San Francisco's problems are different -- the city has an estimated 7, 300 homeless individuals to San Mateo County's 800.
Yeah Mark. Minor difference. I know you try to cover your ass in the last two grafs, but you don't. Suburban solutions won't serve city problems.
What the hell is with this anyway? I mean, nobody had ever even heard of El Nino before the late 90s, and now he's back again? Is he bringing La Nina with him again? Fuck this. I'm moving to the desert.
The South has changed. In my lifetime, particularly the 80s and 90s, it has undergone a radical transformation. No longer an economic and cultural wasteland, it's chock full of industry and bustling cities. Charlotte, Atlanta, Dallas, Nashville, New Orleans, cities on the make all. It's become overwhelmingly suburban, and has shifted dramatically from a Democratic stronghold to a Republican one.
And something else has happened as well. It's inherited the problems once associated with the Northeast. If you live in Georgia, Alabama, Tennessee, South Carolina, North Carolina, or Kentucky, you're breathing some of the filthiest air in the country. You're breathing air with more particulate matter (mostly sulfate and nitrates which cause lung damage) than anywhere else in the nation. More that New York, more than New Jersey, more than Pennsylvania, West Virginia, New England, California or Ohio. And guess what? You've got a different kind of pollution too. The pollution that comes from automobile emissions. Atlanta, Birmingham, Houston, Dallas, Charlotte, and Chattanooga sport some of the highest low-level ozone pollution on the planet. And to topit all off, the heat makes it worse. Meaning if global warming does exist, things are going to get exponentially worse. Cheers.
So here's the rich part of the story. Here's the part of the story where you think to yourself, "hmmmm. perhaps the White House really doesn't have my best interests at heart. perhaps there is something more important than empty promises about taxes and $300 checks in the mail." The Bush administration wants to remove the teeth from the the Clean Air Act. It also wants to scrap programs that would make cars more fuel efficient right away in favor of long term pipe dreams. In other words, between industry and auto-overloaded suburbs, the air you breath in the South is about to get dirtier. Much dirtier.
Todd Gitlin's piece on MoJo very much captures how I feel about the post 09/11 political environment. The right won't admit America can do anything wrong, the left won't admit it can do anything right.
To quote Gitlin:
Insofar as we who criticize U.S. policy seriously want Americans to wake up to the world—to overcome what essayist Anne Taylor Fleming has called our serial innocence, ever renewed, ever absurd—we must speak to, not at, Americans, in recognition of our common perplexity and vulnerability. We must abstain from the fairy-tale pleasures of oversimplification. We must propose what is practical—the stakes are too great for the luxury of any fundamentalism. We must not content ourselves with seeing what Washington says and rejecting that. We must forgo the luxury of assuming that we are not obligated to imagine ourselves in the seats of power.
i've sworn not to link to the new york times because they've got such obnoxious ads. and i've violated that oath repeatedly since making it. i feel bad for it. but as long as i'm at it, zin. yes. couldn't agree more. i'll take a zin over a merlot or pinot any day. and over a cab on most.
I've gotten a lot of positive reposnses to my blog4me post. More than I expected, to be honest. I appreciate everyone who has written, and I promise I'll make a decision soon, I'm being really indecisive this morning, and, quite frankly, I'm a lazy cat. But now I'm thinking of letting multiple people have access, or giving several different dayss of the week to different people.
A friend of mine (and Jeff's) killed himself on Friday. I haven't spoken to him in several years, and I don't know what his situation was. But he was a good friend, and I thought the world of him. I knew his family, and they were all good people too. He left behind a wife and three children. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
I'm going to Baja in a few weeks, and rather than letting my site fester, I'm trying to work out a web log exchange. Here's how it works: you blog for me while I'm in Mexico, and then when it's time for you to take a break, I blog for you. Hell, this could be a whole new movement. A new era. The dawning of a new day and a new, um... something fancy. Whatever. Just follow the link if you think you might be interested.
I hate linking to the nytimes sitre because it's just a big ad ho-rama. But it's 1:43 in the morening, I can'st find this tory anywhere else, and it's outrageous. As in:
Top federal regulators have recommended informally that the White House relax one of the nation's most contentious air pollution regulations, a provision that requires power plants to upgrade pollution control equipment when they upgrade their operations.
Such a move has long been pushed by energy and industry groups — many of whom have been big supporters of President Bush — who say that current rules impose billions of dollars in extra costs that unfairly block utilities from modernizing to make plants more energy efficient.
Environmental groups have been equally vehement in their support of the current regulations, saying that any relaxation would amount to the biggest rollback of the Clean Air Act since its passage 30 years ago.
I found this helen jane photo site via comments on Ezra's site. This is similar to what I'd like to do with my (forthcoming. one day. I swear.) redesign. Alas, I have no skills. Kerns? Hook me up willya?
Actually.. I just got a copy of next week's "Time" Magazine... it has the new innovation on the front cover... and you're right... it's a new IMac with a Flat screen. The CPU looks kind of like a mushroom cap... about the size of a ballcap... and then a "lamp" arm (moveable in all directions) connected to a flat screen monitor. All-in-one jobby... the benefit being that it does all the things you want... DVD, CD Burner, connects with the IPod, and has built-in video editing software. Looks pretty cool.
Actually, Apple presented that, dumbass. It presented it at Macworld. and the Cube, despite being overpriced and too hard to expand, remains the coolest damn computer to come out since oh, I don't know... the iMac?
Going hiking at cataract falls today. It's a redundant name, and always seems a bit silly to me. It's like "waterfall falls." For some reason, most people I mention that to don't seem to be aware of that definition of cataract.
New Year's Eve was amazing. It was great hanging out with lots of friends and listening to some amazing music. As expected, Jason Knight put up an amazing set. But Queen Agnes B (who is part of that Sister SF collective I posted about a few weeks ago) was mindblowing. Incredibly hard. But don't take my word on it, have a listen. (thanks Tim and Ezra!)
I'm not quite sure what this whole social network explorer thing on blogdex is all about. But in any case, I'm quite happy to be in the same company as boingboing.net
Cool! My old boss and Electronet celebrity Brooke Biggs has a blog (and surprise surprise, it's infinitely better written than my own): the bitter shack of resentment. Check it out.
In my former hometown of Montgomery Alabama, it's snowing. This is not an oft-experienced phenomena for most Southerners, particularly Alabamans. The entire time I grew up in Montgomery, I think I remember it snowing (and sticking) twice. Thus, i'm proud to present "Winter Driving Tips for Southern Drivers" (via Fark)
On second thought, please don't. Please. Really. No, really, please do not bring it on. I was just kidding. I was only joshing. I've got so much left to live for. I've heard stories, and witnessed your cruelty firsthand. Or at least over the electronet. I couldn't help it! El Destino made me do it! I ran out of gas! I had a flat tire! I didn't have enough money for cab fare! My tux didn't come back from the cleaners! An old friend came in from out of town! Someone stole my car! There was an earthquake! A terrible flood! Locusts! It wasn't my fault, I swear to God!
Neil McAllister speculates on a Palm, Apple, and Be merger. It's a nice idea, but it's not happening. Sure, Palm is loaded down with old Apple executives, and yes, Be and Apple are nice and snuggley. But if Jobs wants a PDA, he's going to build one, not buy it. In the Newton, he still has the most advanced handheld operating system on the planet--even if it was discontinued. Nothing, and I mean nothing, touches Newton's handwriting recogniton engine to this day.
If Apple rolls out a PDA, it will be something similar to Kevin Fox's speculative iPad, something closer to a tablet than a handheld. It won't be a Palm bastard either, it'll be a machine all its own.
I haven't been updating much lately, but I promise to get things underway again now that the holidays and new year have passed. There were all kinds of things I wanted to post, but didn't. Most notably: our trip to Muir Woods.
I've been to Muir Woods a few times before, always with visitors from out of town, but I'd never gone during the winter. To my pleasant surprise, it turns out that Muir Woods is Coho country, and it just happens to be spawning season. In fact, Redwood Creek is the last (the last!) wild salmon run in California. Tragic. I had my camera with me, and I shot a couple of slips of the Coho making their way upstream. I'd never seen salmon spawning in the wild before, and it's a positively amazing sight. It looks hard on TV (or the electronet, in this case), but that's nothing compared to how difficult it looks IRL. In other words, the videos don't do the fish justice.
These are large files, and I didn;t take the time to embed them. So to download them, I'd suggest that you Control-Click (or right click if you have a pc, or multi-button Mac Mouse) on the link below and save the files directly to your hard drive. Otherwise, you'll have to wait for a while as they download.
This captures my sentiments pretty well. I do not, and cannot, believe that any President of the United States--even an illegitimate one who came into office via election fraud and cronyism--could have any foreknowledge of such a devastating attack. However, several months ago, in running down an urban myth sent to me via email, I found it peculiar that when I did a lexis search for bin Laden, the first references I found were to: 1) A 1987 San Antonio Business Journal article about a pilot for the Bushes and other elite Texans who made his connections with them after ferrying Sheik Salom bin Laden around Europe for several years. 2) A 1990 Washington Post article on US arms trade with Saudi, and the bin Laden family's connection. 3) A 1992 Houston Chronicle article on a Federal investigation into James R. Bath, who represented the bin Laden family in the United States, and owned a five percent interest in Arbusto, Dubya's oil bidness.
Now, I don't for a second think that Dubya is connected to September 11. And I think that conspiracy theories to the contrary are reckless and irresponsible. But I do think he has, in a very direct matter yet probably unwittingly (as if he were capable of wittingly accomplishing anything), assisted in financing terrorism. the two families are too close, and there are entirely too many financial connections, for Bush to not have indirectly sent money to OBL.