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This guy ain't red, he's chicken!

This so-called foray into the Red and Blue America has been making the rounds lately, noted here, somewhat impugned here, and very rightly mocked over yonder.

Well, count me in on Bryan's mockery, which is first worth just quoting:

Actually going into the heart of Red Country would have meant going to certain regions of Texas, or plenty of other states, where I'm certain he'd have risked being pulled over on a back road and been made to feel a lot less comfortable than he did after being halfheartedly called an asshole by some vegan in a coffee shop. Trust me on this one. Or rent Easy Rider.

Exactly. The hack at the helm of this piece clearly couldn't be bothered to venture outside his Southern California cocoon, and the two places he bothered to poke his lil nose into strike me as downright moderate:

My journey to Red America carries me to the antipodes of today's Republicanism.

Antipodes? In California? You gotta be kidding me. Let's see what they are.

I first visit Newport Beach, Orange County's last bastion of wealthy white country-club Republicans (population, 70,032; 94 percent white; 61.6 percent registered Republican; median household income $111,166).

Pull over. Yes, this may be the last bastion of wealthy Republicans in Orange County. Yes, 61.6% affiliation with the G.O.P. is something like double the national average.

But let's see how Newport Beach stacks up against some real Red Country. And party registration is cheap. Money talks. So let's talk money. Among the four-odd Newport Beach zip codes, individual donations to George Bush's campaign this year have totaled $511,575 (73%). (Source: Color of Money; look up 92657, -660, -661, and -662.) That is a fair drubbing of the Dem's fundraising there -- $190,300 (27%). {Note: in all zip codes I looked at, 3rd party candidate contributions were too small to factor in.}

But this disparity looks downright modest in comparison to the sort of numbers you see in actual Red Country. Take, e.g., the breakdown of political donations in a single zip code in central Houston, Texas: Individual donations to Bush total $816,556 (86%), to the Dems' measly $133,636 (14%). The numbers get even more red when you hit hoity-toit suburbs like the Woodlands (zips 77382 & -384), where Bush beat the Dems $47,235 (91%) to $4,900 (9%). That, my little Angeleno, is a bastion of wealthy Republicans. But onward; our intrepid reporter has another nearby "antipode" to explore.

I then travel to Bakersfield, the heart of California's agricultural Central Valley two hours northeast of Los Angeles (population 247,057; 69 percent white and 29.4 percent Hispanic; 49.2 percent registered Republican; median household income $39,468). To give you a sense of the lion's den I was entering: In 2000, Bakersfield voted 60.8 percent Republican versus 41 percent statewide.

My, that's some lion's den. I hope you're packing heat and have the ACLU on speed dial, you miserable little creep -- they may well throw you in the hoosegow while they rustle up a lynchin' mob! For the love of God, at least get out of Southern California. Ever heard of the State of Jefferson? It's not perfect Red Country, but in a pinch it's at least better than Bakersfield.

But if you really want to impress me, keep heading north east until you find yourself in the Oregon outback. Does a 60% showing for Bush really blow your little Venice Beach mind? Check out Malheur County, which went 73% for Bush in 2000, 22% for Gore. Try Harney: 75% to 21%. Wander over to Lake: 76% to 19%.

And finish up your tour, if you make it that far, in charming little Grant County, where 3,078 of the 3,846 hardbitten ranchin' folk cast their vote for Bush, a mere 589 for Gore. 80% to 15%. That, you lazy, craven doofus, is Red Country.

Also FLOGged at the OC.

{He leans back, spent, and wonders why he spent so much time on that post? That article musta really pissed him off. That, and he's simply fed up with the Uniform Commercial Code. Oh, for the days of illusory promises and Pareto efficiencies. The devil of boredom is in the details.}

Will the Real Roger Ebert please stand up?

My parent company, Phooeyhoo, recently raised questions about Roger Ebert's new, turtle-like appearance in a promotional image for the Ebert & Roeper show.

While I was clicking about this morning, I found another promotional image, this one for ebert.com, and the difference is striking, as you can see from this juxtaposition:

Now, the one for ebert.com can't be all that old, but it's clear the man has gone for an image makeover in the intervening time -- he's traded in his old owl-like glasses for a sleaker set of specs, and switched from a laid-back blouse-and-pullover outfit to more of a black-tie, button-down scene.

But most striking is the severe narrowing of the man's face. I'm sorry, but the best diet in the world will not alter the width of your cranium. And, as Porntato! pointed out, he would have to eat his own chin skin to tighten up the neck like that. Something very wrong and probably illegal has been done to this man. All credit goes to Phooeyhoo for directing our attention to it, and I thought this little comparison would help bring out just how serious it is.

America cannot take four more years of this! Think of the Ebert!

Things you can learn from 24 year old smut

As explained here, I recently came into an issue of Playboy from October of 1980.

(Syntax automatically double-entendred for your convenience!)

Now, I'm a sucker for old periodicals. Born to be a historian as much as an attorney. (What's that, professor? You want me to read every line of a week's worth of the New York Times from 1861, for no better reason than to help you gather raw data for your next book? Fuck yes, I say!)

So I grabbed this Playboy for reasons beyond mere boobings. I wanted to delve into the not too distant past.

Here are a few things I gleaned from this dispatch from the era between the shooting of J.R. and the revelation of who shot him:

How to Convince a Girl You're a Real Sex Machine, 1980 Style:

"A sequence of Mount St. Helens' eruption might look good on the walls of your bedroom."

Some Things Never Change:

1. Ted Nugent is still foretelling the apocalypse:

"PLAYBOY: Do you think things are getting worse?

"NUGENT: On earth? Unquestionably. Absolutely, and the ultimate result is that Mother Nature is going to kick our ass real good with storms, floods, tornadoes and basic land openings that will engulf all these saps."

(I've got about a year of geology under my belt, but I'm stymied: what the hell is a "basic land opening"?)

2. Hollywood has apparently been at this "remake" thing for awhile:

"Hollywood, in its desperate search for new material, is once again reviving an old classic -- the Lone Ranger saga. Set for a Christmas 1980 release, The Legend of the Lone Ranger . . . stars two relative unknowns -- Klinton Spilsbury as the masked man and Michael Horse as his faithful side-kick, Tonto."

(Hmm. They are still relative unknowns, and I've never heard of that movie. Must not have been quite the "box office smash" the producers were crowing about.}

Other Things Change a Lot

1. Apparently, Sir Bocephus was an innovative artist in 1980:

"On Habits Old and New, Hank Williams, Jr., continues to spice the traditional country-and-western song forms with ironic new meanings as he puts down discos and the white-collar set."

2. Schnapps and beer? Wha?

"Leroux & Brew.

Smooth and easy partners. Leroux Perppermint Schnapps and crisp chilled beer. The glow of the schnapps chased by the icy cold of the brew is smooth all the way, uniquely delicious. Discover the drink that's sweeping the country."

(Swept through and gone, I fear.)

Finally, The "Well, Surely That's The End Of That" Award Nominees:

"Let us now lay to rest the myth so widely promulgated by the so-called Right-to-Lifers that abortion was legalized in 1973 at the whim of some godless Supreme Court Justices, contrary to the moral beliefs of most Americans. At last the issue has been put to a vote. In Toledo, a proposed anti-abortion ordinance was . . . defeated by an impressive two-to-one margin, 40,000 to 20,000."

* * * * * *

"The Army may not discharge a soldier solely because he or she is homosexual, a U.S. district court has ruled . . . The federal judge declared that that violates the First, Fifth and Ninth amendments."

* * * * * *

"Mick says that the Stones will probably tour the U.S. this fall and play smaller places before Bill Wyman finally makes good on his plans to retire."

And so abortion, gays in the military, and the Rolling Stones were consigned to history's landfill, forever.

Fun, huh? Well, coming soon (maybe), FLOG will delve into "Things you can learn from 24 year old smut, Visual Edition™"

The truth about Germany

One thing I learned while I was in Germany is that it is not actually run by human beings. (This may explain its staggering efficiency.) At the end of the last War, we Allies decided that the German people could not be trusted to govern themselves, and so we put the country in the care of a brotherhood of omniscient, omnipotent lumps of basalt.

I ran across Germany's benevolent stone rulers during their annual swing through the foothill town of Fussen, in Bavaria. Here's a portrait, which you can click on for a closer look.

(They spew water to signal their disapproval of the local populace's behavior. It's a sign of serious opprobrium.)

Don't believe me? Look, it's not often spoken of, but it's the truth. Go below the fold for further evidence.

Here one of the stone rulers is in prominent attendance at a meeting between Harry S. Truman and General George C. Marshall, architect of the rebuilding of Europe after WWII.

Another ruler stone poses with the legendary German technopop act Kraftwerk, circa 1977.

Here a stone presides over the completion of Christo's wrapping of the Reichstag in 1995.

German Chancellor Gerhard Shroeder holds a press conference with one of the ruling stones. You missed this one? Jesus.

Finally, the stones here give their endorsement to German metal band Iced Earth, a group with a persistent following among German adolescents, as exemplified by this youth. With benevolent geologic forms in their corner, Iced Earth can only be bracing for a North American invasion any day now. Hold tight, and remember: the invasion could've been worse.

It's fizzin' to get autumnal up in herre

This was taken Wednesday on Mount Pisgah. Every damned spider web was filled with dew and glowing. Some of them looked like this:

This is also noteworthy; top of Mount Pisgah looking southeast.

The last time I saw this view was January 1998 during an orienteering test for Wilderness Survival 101. It was about 33 degrees, freezer wind and rain like needles. I was muddy as hell, covered with poison oak, and soaked to the bone.

Our instructor, Edward Abbey on methamphetamines, assembled the entire class on the summit to deliver a sermon on the mount. There is, you see, a small and rather appealing bronze sculpture on top, put there by Ken Kesey as a memorial to his deceased son. To our instructor, it was an absolute affront to nature's dignity.

"For the sake of his own ego," he railed, "a certain local author saw fit to trash and defile this wonder of nature with this lump of metal!" With ice rain pounding at my eyeballs, I failed to see what he was so worked up about. Nature didn't seem too wonderful and I thought Kesey's lump looked like a nice bit of shelter.

But enough about that. It was nice on Wednesday.

I am an artist!

Livid Torpidity #5

This piece is about the frustrated reification of the primal soul against the mercantilist strictures of the modern world. Don't believe me? Click on it and look closer! See?

Eine kliene trop LIT's thoughts

You know, when you step back and think about it, the Postal Service is really fucking amazing. So comprehensive, yet so efficient. A massive & bloated yet effective bureaucracy. All those parcels whooshing to and fro. Whooooooosh! Whoooooooooooooooooosh!

UPS is cooler, though. Brown power, mang. I can't help thinking that one reason the USPS does so well as a gov't bureaucracy is that it has competition.

* * *

There is simply no good reason why this should be the 10th result when I run a Google image search for "otter sex." Still, check the old man's chest fur.

What? Why am I searching for images of otter sex? Who said I was?

Well, never mind that, because this was the 19th result. Seriously, check that one out. Scroll around the grounds until you feel at home. And then rethink everything you ever thought about the Swedes.

* * *

Well, best to call this one in. But first, these facts:

WHOA, didn't see that coming

Now what's he up to? It just doesn't make a lick of sense

Blog, you are a bad father

Look what your little pumpkin's been up to while you're off at work.

(Okay, so I'm stuck manning this Fun Run signup all afternoon and I'm bored. Probably more to come.)

Excuses, stopgaps, and announcements

So lately I've been getting feedback like this:

BOR-ING! What this blog needs is 33 CCs of new posts, stat!

And this:

Why am I reading a blog that hasn't changed for more than a week instead of writing my lit review?

Well, folks, all apologies, but I've been quite consumed by school, influenza, the debates, dogs needing neutering, and the desire to pursue aimless recreation with FLOGette: hiking, book reading, and other nonproductive shitheadering. If you are really troubled by my semi-silence, I've been relatively prolific over at the Commentator, if you don't go there much but you love my sexy voice anyway:

9/22: Criticizing the local newspaper
9/23: Pickin' on Rolling Stone
9/30: Mocking minor political parties
10/5: Covering campus legal issues
10/7: Giving demagogues free publicity
10/13: Facilitating discussion?

But despair not for FLOG™! I just recieved by mail, from SPC. Mike, the icing on the cake of Seven Days in Deutschland, and I have set to work on committing it to internettyness.

Here's a preview!

The first picture is the only one I've ever taken in Luxembourg.

The second one Mike apparently took a little after I left Germany.

Somehow, I don't know, they just work together.

Political Volcanism

For a while there I thought this Mt. St. Helens thing was just good, clean, innocent geological fun. But now my eyes are open to the Bush Administration's swing-state skullduggery.

First they raise the "threat level" from 2 to 3, the highest level, triggering public fears of an "imminent eruption".

Then they fly in Bushie Interior Secretary Gale Norton and trot her out with Oregon Republican congressman Greg Walden to assure us that Washington and Oregon will be safe from volcanism under Bush's watch.

I gotta admit, it's been effective. The Bush USGS has done well so far: they called the first eruption, and they showed great prudence in evacuating Johnston Ridge today after observing "harmonic tremor." It's been a hell of an intelligence coup. Would a Kerry USGS do as well? As far as I know, Kerry doesn't even have a position on volcanism. Good luck pinning down where he stands on harmonic tremor.

UPDATE: I got to thinking about it, and realized St. Helens has been in the Republicans' corner all along. It blew its top early on May 18, 1980, catching the Carter USGS with its pants half down and killing 57 people. Yet another election year straw on the Camel of Carter's Effectiveness. We now know Reagan made a deal with the Iranian terrorists to release their hostages after he was elected; is it possible he cut a deal with Mt. St. Helens, too?

(And a Harry Truman died in the eruption -- a ready symbol for Reagan's New Deal rollback? This thing runs deep, folks!)