Tea Time

Here's a delicious slice of stupid from our conservative friends who are, presumably with a straight face, claim that referring to the Tea Party people as "tea-baggers" is the equivalent of using the "n" word.

Don't believe me? It's right here, dude.

It's a very short article and it's rich. You've got to read it. I can only speak for myself, but I refuse to call this current movement of ignorance the Tea Party because, uh, there was already one of those. It'd be like starting a new Major League Baseball franchise called the Kalamazoo Yankees. And so I say to the teabaggers: get a new name, assholes, and don't insult our forefathers by likening yourselves to the people who boldly began the process which created this sovereign nation.

I'll tell ya, the shit these wackadoodles come up with... Ironically, in almost six years living in Seattle, the only time I've ever heard the "n" word is when I heard it about 50 times while driving through the two-block length of a Tea Party rally last year. That's also when I saw a bunch of awesome home made signs depicting the president as a monkey, my favorite being a mock-up National Geographic with the Obamas on the cover... Naturally, when I describe the teabag party as a thinly-veiled, shameless and unsuccessful mask for the inner racist among the Republican party's lowest common denominator, my conservative friends become very angry and tell me they "just want [their] country back." In response, the often snarky and sometimes funny Bill Maher responded to that notion with, "I want my country forward." Good times.

Lastly, if you're wondering if the massive BP oil spill in the Gulf could have been avoided.. Why yes, it could have. If only George W. Bush's Dept. of Justice didn't give them a pass a few years ago, validating the corner-cutting and lack of safety and oversight that essentially caused the current situation. Want to learn more?
click here.

Final thought of the morning. As I argued pretty intensely with some conservative friends over the Arizona immigration law, I realized something quite simple to explain why I think it's a bullshit law which gives law enforcement the green light to be as racist and unfair as they wish. I love the U.S.A., just without all the pomp and circumstance of the flag-waving and trite expressions ("these colors don't run" and so forth). Given that, however, I consider myself a human being first and an American second. Anyway, as we began with mention of the "n" word I figured I'd leave you with some Patti Smith. If the song offends you, all you need to do is start listening.

Down By the River

Jessica and I enjoyed a great weekend in Boston. We flew direct each way, stayed in a nice hotel, attended a Sox-Yankees game at Fenway and spent lots of time with my oldest, best friends at night over dinner and drinks and on Mother's Day with their lovely wives and beautiful children. I don't have a typically long-winded chunk of prose in the tank at the moment, so instead this will be a kind of photo essay, which I hope will illustrate this as the marvelous weekend which we'd only change by extending. Enjoy!














From the Citgo sign to the Pesky Pole with the Hancock and Dunkin Donuts signs in between... Welcome ta Fenway Pahk!



Jeter and Youkilis chatting at first base with Buchholz on the mound.


'07 Cy Young winner C.C. Sabathia on the hill, '07 World Series MVP Mike Lowell at the dish


The rain REALLY came down at Fenway during the bottom of the 5th.


Rain over, tarp removal, and I don't know how they got rid of all that water.


I'm no Yankee fan, but while examining the "zoomability" of the camera's b&w side, got this cool shot of Derek Jeter. Sure, I'm a dyed-in-the-wool Sox fan. But as a baseball fan, especially in the 21st century, if you don't LOVE Jeter you just might be with the terrorists.


Love this shot, taken from the park during the rain delay. Summation.


Ominous, indeed. We left after seven. It was 8-3. Arrived at the hotel, 2 miles away, and it was 14-3.


Boston's Finest peruse a guy wearing a (deflated) plastic f**k doll, with a sausage stand looming.




On our last day, I had breakfast with a high school friend whose life has been simply remarkable. Dave has made a couple critically acclaimed indie films (he wrote Southie and wrote and directed On Broadway), he's done some theater and currently he leads a groundbreaking initiative which facilitates the public and private sectors working in concert. Boston World Partnership
I can't even describe how enjoyable it was to spend a couple hours with Dave.

My friends are impressive. Pete is a doctor. Jake heads up PRX. Jason is a CIO at Nellymoser. Mike owns and operates his successful Fiske & Company.

While Dave and I had oatmeal (Dave: with fruit) and an omelette (me: ham & cheese), Jessica wandered around and found King's Chapel:

Cocoon of Ignorance and RSD Reflection

Record Store Day Reflection
In my Record Store Day hangover, the next morning I hit Everyday Music and picked up some more booty. A 45 by the Fall, Jimi Hendrix Live at Clark University, and Sonic Youth's debut. I am duly reminded that I like the idea of enjoying Sonic Youth's music far more than the reality of listening to it. I learned this the first time when seeing them live about seven years ago. It's just a bunch of feedback and noise, which they do quite artfully and there is clearly a niche audience for that. But I'm a song guy. Alas, I've read a lot of music fans online bitching about Record Store Day because it's only true objective is to drive commerce (duh!) and that RSD exclusive titles produced in limited quantities caters to the collectors which curbs the true fans' ability to get the music, the implication being that in today's high democratized landscape of Internet music consumption, exclusive titles aren't fair. People are also unhappy about the escalating price of vinyl. Now THAT I can get behind.

The escalating price of vinyl is a real issue. I hate that a new album costs 3-4 times more than it did when vinyl was last the prevailing medium. Granted, that was nearly 25 years ago, but I can't think of (m)any other products whose retail price has tripled or quadrupled during that same time. Since 1985 (for reference), movie tickets have tripled, postage stamps have doubled, gas has tripled, and compact discs have doubled.

I like Record Store Day. Sure, it'd be cool for an artist to make everything equally accessible. But an exclusive here and there is also cool, it inspires the biggest fans to remain consistently and actively involved with what the artist is doing and exclusives create some excitement. And as widely promoted as RSD is, a fan knows about it and unless you live in BFE or have to work that Saturday morning and can't get the day off (or just a half day for the morning), I can't imagine that RSD is not physically accessible to about 99% of the fans. I live in Seattle, where 24 locations in the city participated this year. And if it isn't accessible to you, ask a friend to grab that title for you and then pay the man.

Ted Leo, whose exclusive 45 I picked up on RSD, weighs in and I think he's on the money. From tedleo.com:

YOU KNOW WHAT’S LAME?
People buying a limited edition Record Store Day 7″ and trying to flip it on eBay immediately for $15.00.
You know what’s also lame? Complaining about Record Store Day. Of course it’s token, placebo, guilt-reduction therapy for everyone who helped drive record stores into the ground to begin with, but can’t you just let ‘em have this one day to try and drum up awareness and business and do something fun with it? Of course it should be “RECORD STORE DAY EVERY DAY!” But it’s not, and it’s probably never going to be again. So why not complain about the forces that conspired to create a situation in which poor record stores feel they NEED to HAVE Record Store Day, or the forces that have conspired to create the need to have National Poetry Month, Black History Month, etc., etc., etc.?
If one is inclined to hate on something, lord knows there’re plenty of truly deserving places toward which one can direct that hate…

Now on to some of my standard piss and vinegar fare:

Cocoon of Ignorance:
Really, Arizona? All you faux rednecks down there in the Valley of the Sun seem to feel like Americans of the [sarcasm] best [/sarcasm] kind, passing a law that empowers the police to stop anyone who "appears Mexican" and require they produce positive government-issued ID and a birth certificate to prove their citizenship. And to think that I used to get salty every time I was pulled over in Cheeseland just for having Illinois plates. Or for banging an illegal U-ey outside that Green Bay nudie bar. But hey, we're not talking about me here, we're talking about the sun-baked rocket surgeons and brain scientists in Arizona. Now, my conservative friends argue that we're just trying to enforce the law. However, you don't get pulled over and asked for your ID and birth certificate when you're driving within the speed limit and staying between the lines. But if you have darker skin, you will. At least in Arizona. Last week, a Fresno-born trucker was arrested at an Arizona weigh station and when he produced his drivers license and Social Security number, he was asked for his birth certificate - who the hell carries that around? - and when he couldn't produce it, he was cuffed, stuffed, and held at an immigration detention center. Eventually, his wife collected his Fresno County birth certificate, showed it to immigration and the guy was freed. An immigration official said the guy being detained had nothing to do with Arizona's new immigration law. Mroight.

Who the hell needs Arizona, anyway? I mean, besides the iced tea which ain't that good in the first place, I say let 'em secede and let ignorance prevail as bliss in their own special little racist cocoon of bigotry. Raising Arizona is a pretty awesome movie, though.

When arguing with a Republican, note that "I love your passion" is another way of saying, "I listen to conservative AM talk radio and this is what I say instead of f**k you, you f**king idiot."

The racist veil behind which most conservatives hide becomes thinner and more transparent all the time. Maybe having a black president has shone a light on this reality. It's ugly, but at least the crap is finally floating to the top of the bowl. I was going to end this post with a suggestion that the GOP rename itself to the GOMLP, or Get Off My Lawn Party. But I think the FP, or Floater Party has a nice ring to it.