My fellow Americans
Current mood: pirate
Category: News and Politics

My friends,

I have something important to tell you.

America is in serious dire straits. Wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are getting worse, people around the world are continuing to hate us, terrorists are lurking around every corner, our economy is going downhill, our gasoline is skyrocketing, our jobs are being outsourced, our homes are forever foreclosing, our banks are being robbed, our celebrities are getting arrested for DUI, and this whole world is standing on its last legs as hurricanes, tornados, earthquakes, and droughts plague the land.

Worst yet, Obama and Clinton – the presidential candidates in my own Democratic party – have been bickering so much that frankly, I am embarrassed. I am frustrated. And most of all, I am tired. So after weeks of some serious soul-searching, I have decided that CHANGE IS NOT THE ANSWER.

Friends, America is in a vulnerable state right now, and she is NOT READY for a black president. She is NOT READY for a female president. She is even NOT READY for an old white male president. No, what we really need is an average Joe Six-Pack, like a American cowboy, a faithful Christian, maybe even a Harvard graduate … but someone not too smart. God knows we don’t need a leader who can think for himself.

So on this day – April 1 – I am jumping ship, joining the Republican Party, and launching a new radical campaign to RE-ELECT GEORGE W. BUSH FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. I believe in these troubled times, Bush is doing a heck of a job and must continue to do so. And as he said many times before: Why change streams in mid-horses. Or something like that.

Re-elect George W. Bush for President – He may be a FOOL, but he’s our FOOL.

Hugs and kisses

Rhubarb

(the biggest fool on this April Fools day)

Currently reading : Kids Are Americans Too By Bill O'reilly Release date: 16 October, 2007

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Eddie, we hardly knew ye
Current mood: sad
Category: Life

Today I am in mourning, for my cat, which I had for 15 years (or should I say, she had me), had a stroke on Sunday and passed away Monday night. Eddie Vedder -- yes that was her name -- was 20 years old, though she never acted her age. She was a curmudgeon with a young kid's heart.

Those who had encountered Eddie know that she had only two sides – stoical (if you were lucky) and ornery (if you were not). I couldn't tell if Eddie really loved me, but she tolerated me, which was good enough for me.

I have so many stories of this cat, but there is one story I would like to share: To figure out why Eddie was such a misanthrope, my brother Jeff decided that she should see a cat psychic. Yes, my friends, there are people out there who talk to cats, and no, they don't communicate in "meows." Come on now, that would be absurd! No, these psychics communicate with cats telepathically ... which made sense, or at least enough sense to fork over $50. Besides I really wanted to see what made this cat tick (like a timebomb) and if it means having some wacko converse with her through silent waves, so be it.

So the cat psychic came into the room and immediately started "talking" to Eddie. The psychic later transcribed their dialogue to me. Okay, sure their conversations weren't like Socrates and Pluto's, but they did give some insight on Eddie's way of thinking.

I actually had the transcript, but alas I cannot find it now. But I do remember a couple of things from their conversation:

- The psychic asked Eddie why she was so mean to visitors. Eddie replied that she didn't like people entering her home. The psychic reminded the cat that the place wasn't "her home," but was actually "Mark's home." Eddie paused and said, "Hm, I never thought of it that way."

- The psychic asked Eddie what she thought about my parents. Eddie replied that she liked visiting their house because it was so spacious and had lots of sunlight. Eddie also said that there was a dog that lived there, but "she's not there anymore." Funny, Eddie did see my parents' dog when I took her to their house one Christmas break, and the dog did die a few months after our visit. Now how Eddie knew that the mutt passed away, I'll never know. I guess animals understand each other more so than we understand them ... or ourselves.

When I moved to Los Angeles earlier this year, I had to give Eddie to my parents. I hated to depart with that cat, but my friend Erin told me that Eddie was lucky to live in such a large place like my parents' house. And she's right. Eddie really enjoyed her new life there and even began to be nicer to visitors. I'm glad she was there during her final days.

So rest in peace, Eddie Vedder. You were a lovely cat, no matter what anyone said.

Currently reading : I Am a Cat: Three Volumes in One By Soseki Natsume Release date: March, 2002

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Santa Ana winds
Current mood: hot
Category: Life

I don't know what the news is like in other parts of the world, but around here in Los Angeles, we are in the middle of a ring of firestorms, blazing from Simi Valley down to the border of Mexico. More than 700 homes have been burned down and over 350,000 people are on the run.

All of these firestorms are caused by Santa Ana winds -- these hot, dry winds that roll throughout So. Calif. during the autumn and winter times. Now I've never experienced Santa Ana winds before, but lately I've been missing the foggy days of San Francisco.

Raymond Chandler said it best in "Red Wind": "Those hot dry winds that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen."

Stay safe, fellow Angelenos, and fer god's sake, now's the time to hide those knives.

Currently reading : Raymond Chandler: Collected Stories (Everyman’s Library) By Raymond Chandler Release date: 15 October, 2002

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:-), you turned 25!
Current mood: happy

Currently listening : SMiLE By Brian Wilson Release date: 28 September, 2004

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President Cheney
Current mood: sick

Well, it looks like starting tomorrow Dick Cheney is going to be president, temporary (isn't presidency a temp job anyway?), since King George is going in for brain surgery, I mean, a colonoscopy proceedure ... same thing, right?

So let the betting begin: Who thinks the big Dick is gonna start a war with Iran tomorrow?

Currently watching : Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (Two-Disc Special Edition) Release date: 02 November, 2004

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...yes I said yes I will Yes
Current mood: ReJoyce

   "I want to give a picture of Dublin so complete that if the city one day suddenly disappeared from the earth it could be reconstructed out of my book."

-- James Joyce

   Yes, I said, yes. It's June 16 and you know what that means. Happy Bloomsday, you fearful Jesuits. Bloomsday is a celebration the life and works of Irish writer James Joyce ... well, actually one work (the dude only wrote a handful of novels, one play and some bad poetry). "Ulysses" centers on Leopold Bloom, a wandering Jew walking in the streets of Dublin from morn to night on June 16, 1904, knowing that at his home his wife is having an affair. During his journey, he meets a variety of odd characters, including a racist Cyclops, several prostitutes, a flirtatious handicap, talking cats, newspaper reporters, the ghost of his dead son, and of course, Stephen Dedalus, the young poet who can't seem to get over his mother's death (oh, how Hamlet).

   Since 1954, Dubliners annually commemorate the book on June 16 by recreating the same path ol' Bloom takes throughout the city's streets. In other parts of the world, people hold open readings of Joyce's opus in Irish pubs and theaters, which actually takes about as long as it does walking those same streets.

   It's a tough read, that "Ulysses," so the best way to celebrate Bloomsday is to pick your own day, walk outside your home -- wherever you may be -- and wander.

"He rests. He has traveled.

"With?

"Sinbad the Sailor and Tinbad the Tailor and Jinbad the Jailer and Whinbad the Whaler and Ninbad the Nailr and Finbad tne Failer and Binbad the Bailer and Pinbad the Pailer and Minbad the Mailer and Hinbad the Hailer and Rinbad the Railer and Dinbad the Kailer and Vinbad the Quailer and Linbad the Yailer and Xinbad the Phthailer.

"When?

"Going to a dark bed there was a square round Sinbad the Sailor rock's auk's egg in the night of the bed of all the auks of the rocs of Darkinbad the Brightdayler.

"Where?

."

Currently reading : Ulysses By James Joyce Release date: 16 June, 1990

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Goodbye Blue Monday
Current mood: sad
Category: Writing and Poetry

It's been almost a week and I still cannot believe that author Kurt Vonnegut is gone. I was sure the world would end before he did. Such sad news. Mr. Vonnegut was one of the reasons why I wanted to be a writer.

I've been rummaging around this flat, trying to find his books, but I think I gave them all away. It's been so long since I read any of his work, but I do remember a couple of images:

From Breakfast of Champions, Mr. Vonnegut actually enters his novel and tells his alter ego Kilgore Trout that he was letting him and all the other characters go. And Trout replies, "Make me young!"

And from Slaughterhouse Five, there is a drawing of a locket hanging on Montana's neck, in between her naked breasts. The locket reads, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom always to tell the difference."

 So it goes.

Currently reading : Breakfast of Champions By Kurt Vonnegut Release date: 11 May, 1999

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Charles Burnett's "Killer of Sheep": $10,000 well spent
Current mood: jubilant
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities

Last weekend I went to the Nuart Theatre in Los Angeles and witnessed a miracle: the restoration of Charles Burnett's comedy-drama "Killer of Sheep." The film probably doesn't mean much to a lot of people, but it sure means a hellavu lot to filmbuffs, the ethnic community and some group called the Library of Congress.

The film was actually Burnett's student thesis at UCLA back in 1977. He shot it in and around Watts on the weekends with a 16mm camera and a budget of only $10,000. From then on, it was lost in the shuffle, only shown in college classes and a few film festivals; it was never shown in major theaters or made available on video, due to the expense of music rights.

But time has been good to "Killer of Sheep." It was voted as one of the "100 Essential Films" of all time by the National Society of Film Critics and was picked to be one of the first 50 films on the National Film Registry in 1990. Finally after 30 years later, it is getting a national release, thanks to Milestone Film and Video, who paid over $100,000 for the terrific soundtrack.

The film centers life in Watts during in the mid-1970s, as seen through the eyes of Stan, an underpaid worker of a slaughterhouse. Surrounded by financial problems at home and crime at every corner, he would dream of a better life if only he can sleep – for Sam, it is easier to kill sheep than to count them.

But there are some moments of joy that help pull him through if only briefly, like the warmth of a coffee cup against his cheek or slow dancing with his wife in a dark living room.

And there are other moments too – Stan's little girl running around the neighborhood, wearing a basset hound mask; four beer-guzzlers sitting in a broken-down car, listening to Little Walter; kids throwing dirt-clods at each other and jumping from building to building.

Sure there are little acts of unruliness in this town, and kids do fall down and cry, but like Sam and everyone in this community, they just picks themselves up, wipe themselves off and carry on. And it doesn't hurt to have Dinah Washington, Louie Armstrong, Earth, Wind & Fire, and Paul Roebson singing your blues away.

"This bitter earth," as Ms. Washington sings, "may not be so bitter after all." Got that right.

"Killer of Sheep" is playing in Los Angeles for only a week and will have a very limited run throughout the nation, including showings at the Castro in San Francisco and Shattuck in Berkeley in May. Find it and buy a ticket. You won't regret it.

Currently listening : Songs of Free Men/ A Paul Robeson Recital By Anonymous Release date: 09 December, 1997

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The End of 'Star Time'
Current mood: sad
Category: Music

"There was a time
Sometime I danced ...
Sometimes I clown
But you can bet you
Haven't seen nothing yet
Until you see me do
The James Brown!"

James Brown, "There Was a Time"
 
James Brown — the Godfather of Soul, "Butane" James, the Hardest Working Man in Show Business, Mr. Dynamite, the Amazing Mr. "Please Please Please" himself, Soul Brother "Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7" as Van Morrison once described him on stage in San Jose — died early Christmas morn in an Atlanta hospital at the age of 73.
Those who know me have heard this story already, but I want to tell you about the time I've met the Godfather of Soul.
Seven years ago on a September day, I was getting over this horrible flu. I spent the whole morning sleeping and finally crawled out of bed around 1 p.m. Needed to get out and get some fresh air. I walked to the bus stop, jumped on the California 1 and let fate tell me where to go.
The bus dropped me off near the Grace Cathedral up on Nob Hill. I've never been in the cathedral before so I decided to see what she's all about. Saw the stained glass windows. Walked the labyrinth. Meditated in front of the Keith Haring's "The Life of Christ."
As I was walking out of the cathedral, I needed to use their bathroom, but the facilities were all locked up. So I walked across the park to the Fairmont Hotel. I walked through the hotel's lobby and entered the men's room.
As I was standing in front of the urinal, I caught a bit of the conversation of the two fellow pissers behind me. They were talking about dancing. I figured one is a dancer and the other was interested in dancing.
As the two pissers walked over the sink to wash their hands, I finished my business, flushed the toilet, zipped up my fly and turned to the sink to see a 50ish, bald white guy talking to the one and only James Brown. You can easily tell it was Butane James — the nicely pressed suit, the helmet black hair, a face as black as midnight, and that big Cheshire Cat smile.
I spoke out loud, "OH MY GOD, IT'S JAMES BROWN!"
The Godfather turned to me, smiled, nodded and winked. He finished up his conversation with Baldy and took off.
Still stunned, I turned to the bald man and asked, "Oh my god, was that James Brown?"
Baldy said, "Yeah. You know, I was pissing here and he came in and pissed next to me. When I spotted him, I said, 'Hey, I like your dance moves. How can you do that at your age?' And he said, 'How can I dance at my age? I'll tell you how. It's because I never played sports in school. No football, no baseball, no nothing. That's how come I can dance at my age. So if you want to dance like James Brown, don't play any sports.'"
After I heard that, I jetted out of the bathroom, hoping to catch the Godfather and see if he could pass on some words of wisdom to me. I didn't see him, so I walked down the lobby hall and there he was in the gift shop, flirting with two young cashier clerks. I smiled, whispered "screw it" to myself, and walked away.
Now, I've seen Sharon Stone down on Fillmore Street (she looks like every other blonde on Fillmore), Robin Williams in Green Apple Bookstore, and the great poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti in North Beach (hell, he owns the whole place). But I've never met anyone like James Brown.
If I encounter all the kings and queens in the whole world, even if God came down to earth, I would probably muster out an unenthusiastic "hi" or something. But with James Brown, I was near speechless. Like a bumbling idiot.
Why?
Just listen to the double-timed "Think" from his first "Live at the Apollo" (the best live document of any performer ever) or the 9-minute call-and-response version of "There Was a Time" from his "Live at the Apollo, Vol. 2" and see if your hips don't move. I swear, the second the drumstick hits the snare, you'll be dancing as if you never played sports in your life.
"You gotta live for yourself, yourself and nobody else!" he had sung. Words of wisdom.
Rest in peace, Godfather. We'll see you when we get there.

Currently listening : Live at the Apollo By James Brown Release date: 23 March, 2004

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Why shit happens
Current mood: pensive
Category: Religion and Philosophy

Cleaning out my closet, I came upon this old philosophy paper which I kept since college. I wasn't the author, but it still rings true ... sometimes.

"Why Shit Happens"

Taoism: Shit happens

Catholicism: Shit happens to you because you are BAD.

Judaism: Why does this shit always happen?

Zen: What is the sound of shit happening?

Confucianism: Confucius says, "Shit happens."

Hedonism: There is nothing like a good shit happening.

Hinduism: This shit happened before.

Islam: It is the will the Allah that shit happens.

Buddhism: If shit happens, it really isn't shit.

Seventh Day Adventist: No shit on Saturdays.

Mormonism: This shit is going to happen again.

Protestantism: Let this shit happen to someone else.

Hare Krishna: Shit happen rama rama.

Zoroastrianism: Shit happens half the time.

Christian Science: Shit is in your mind.

Agnosticism: No shit?

Atheism: You're full of shit.

Calvinism: Shit happens because you don't work hard enough.

Moonies: Only happy shit really happens.

Stoicism: This shit is good for me.

Existentialism: What is shit?

Americanism: Who gives a shit?

Rastafarianism: Let's smoke this shit!

Computer: Why won't this shit work?

Analism: I want to see where shit come from.

Deism: Something, somewhere, created all this shit.

Egocentrism: I made all this shit.

Pessimism: There will be more shit.

Optimism: This shit too will pass.

Scientology: Do you believe this shit?!?

Communism: Everyone's shit is everyone else's shit.

Capitalism: The more you work, the more you don't have to take shit.

Realism: Life is shit.

Idealism: I can handle this shit.

Positive thinkingism: Shit is what you make it.

Predictionism: The shit is going to hit the fan.

Patriotism: My shit, right or wrong.

Materialism: Whoever dies with the most shit wins.

Descartes-ism: I think, therefore I shit.

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