With a week to go, the above is my prediction for the election. I am confident of 46 of these states, less so in the results in FL, IN, MO and NC. It should be noted that this map has the election O: 338, M: 200, which feels like it might be a bit low for Obama, and could turn out much better than that, with even MT potentially turning blue in a landslide.
Short of a major shift in the public's mood, I see no way McCain wins the election.
Most of my "vacation" now over, I'm already preparing to return to Texas. Upon my return, things will have settled so the next spell shouldn't be as demanding (or as lucrative) as the last, where I worked 34 of 35 days, and 46% of all hours since I'd left, including 181 in a two-week period. As rigorous as that spell was, it allowed me to establish a rhythm, though that rhythm was little more than work-eat-sleep-repeat.
More free time in the next month should allow for some exploration, perhaps Austin will live up to it's high billing.
Unrelated, to state here what I've been saying since June, Obama will win, and big. I had been predicting 320+ electoral votes, I now expect him to finish above 340, and possibly as high as 390. My vote is in the mail, I expect this to be the first time I have voted for the Presidential victor.
Finally relieved of the overnight shift, at an Austin bar, I overhear the following from nearby drunkards:
Any time you're in the sack with a girl on a Friday night, who do you compare her to? Every other girl you've been in the sack on a Friday night...She [his best] had the body of a 12 year old gymnast. It was negative and fucked up, but it was amazing at the same time.
Stay classy Austin, stay classy.
Line of the night from random blogs I've found myself on, this from a satirical econ blog, Long or Short Capital:
Three is an interesting age, when you are just getting confident on your feet, forming words and sentences with rapidly increasing complexity, and, if in China and female, celebrating the third year anniversary of your drowning death.
Now David Rees, the writer, is making mini-movie versions, each about 2 minutes, available at 236.com. Even funnier and awesomer than the non-animated version. Indeed there is a lot of great video content on 236.com and they've also started Dickipedia: A Wiki of Dicks. From Sarah Palin's entry:
The only thing Sarah Palin seems to enjoy more than having children is giving those children ridiculous names and inadequate sex education.
More than a week has passed and I've spent little of it outside the office and my hotel. Working the overnight shift, roughly 6 p.m. to 8 a.m., limits my ability to experience all the great things I hear Austin has to offer. These endless nights disorient, leaving me with little sense of time. This deployment seems thus far an eternity, where I've only been working for 18 straight days thus far.
Most of my contact with daylight is resentful, as I strive to darken my hotel room to sleep away the day and ready for another long night. At some point, perhaps this weekend, they'll no longer need to staff the office overnight and I'll resume a more normal, if still demanding schedule until I take a break in mid-October.
At about 3:00 a.m. the calls taper off and I'm left tracking the storm on the weather channel and the various blogs of Texas newspapers.
By 5, I'm exhausted, having slept about 6 hours in the last 48, all I can think of is my hotel room and its bed. Still two hours remain on my shift, so its time for some coffee. The office begins to stir, with staff slowly trickling in. Their energy should bolster me for the duration. Failing that, I'm considering meth.
Alone I sit, the overnight in the news desk. The phone rings, it's a newspaper, a radio station, a TV station. They want information. They don't know what they want. They want everything.
I sit here, alone. I arrived in Austin this morning. I've slept little. I know less.
The phone rings again.
KHITS Radio, the Austin-American Statesman, ABC News in New York. The questions keep coming. What are you doing before the storm? What will you do after? How much damage will there be?
Two pieces of paper to my left are all that I know. It's not enough. It's never enough.
The phone rings again.
From the 26th floor of the Sheraton Philadelphia, I look out over Western Philadelphia, including skyscrapers. One lights in a scrolling marquee which tonight says:
Use less electricity
And after almost three weeks off, tomorrow I return to Philadelphia to help preparations for Tropical Storm Hannah, and potentially Hurricane Ike. Hopefully there will be enough down time for me to post some pictures from the RNC, where never before have I seen so many people trying to completely skirt responsibility for the last eight years of failures in our country.
Checking in on the Republican Convetion, (whom, it should be noted, don't have nearly the quality stream), the connection froze for a while on this viewer, clearly rapt, drawn in by the vision and inspiration of the GOP. Tomorrow I'll likely head down to St. Paul to catch a bit of the convention myself.
Since returning home last week for the longest period since January I have been reveling in ubiquitous vegetables. Indeed, on my way home from the airport, I found myself across the street from the Midtown Farmers' Market. With a house devoid of food, I was an easy mark for the vendors pushing delights in greens and reds and yellows.
Home in the kitchen at last, within hours I had turned this:
into this:
Since my first efforts, I have made use of lost time, soon those outputs should appear here as well, perhaps on Six Pictures.
Flipping idly past Olympic gymnastics coverage last night in my hotel room, I briefly watched what appeared to be pre-teen Chinese girl contort herself in ways both majestic and disgusting. The commentators marveled at her athleticism and flexibility. Moments later they were discussing how Chinese girls are fed into China’s gymnastics machine at age three.
Amidst the occasional discussions of China’s human rights violations during these Olympics, I do not understand how we can celebrate a sport like gymnastics. Children too young to comprehend their fate are enslaved in training camps, spending their formative years in training so rigorous many might consider it inhumane. For the gold medalists, perhaps it is a worthy trade-off, sacrificing a more normal childhood to attain greatness.
But what for those who aren’t on the Chinese Olympic team? What becomes of those children, forced into the same life, but without the profile and rewards of success? Perhaps their suffering is inconsequential compared to that of dissenters, Christians or Tibetans. But the tragedies of that suffering are recognized and condemned, and not glorified before the world, remarked upon as an achievement for a society, and rewarded with gold.
Today, it was easy to rise from bed, to drive to work. Today, small talk with coworkers is easy, not irritating. Today, the television spewing their vile interpretation of news fail to annoy.
Today I'm coming home.
In my job as the Media Analysis expert in West Virginia, I sit in a cube with six televisions. On one TV, CSPAN-2 the U.S. Senate has voted to gut the 4th Amendment to the Constitution in the form of its FISA bill. On two others, CNN and MSNBC are "breaking" "news" about the Jon Benet Ramsey case. The last "breaking" "news" we saw on this case was the false confession of a crazy man, "news" that dominated national headlines for a week until sheepishly it ceased, perhaps out of shame.
Good work "news" organizations, good work.
Tomorrow morning I leave Philadelphia, where I've been for a total of ten weeks, for West Virginia. The same storms responsible for some of the flooding and tornadoes plaguing the Midwest also struck the mountain state. While I'm sure I'll soon lament the lack of culture and cuisine, I am eager to leave the monotony of the Regional Office for the pace of a disaster.
Lamenting the Dutch's loss earlier, I sought consolation and music at Popped!. I arrived at the Drexel campus to see Crystal Castles (pictured above) take the stage. The booming base driving the crowd as the lead singer bleated into the microphone. Full of life and energy, and definitely worth seeing in a more contained environment where their music would even more easily consume the crowd.
Following them, Mates of State, disappointed. Their cute synth-pop, delicate and intricate on their excellent album Re-Arrange Us melded into a blob of noise. At times they brought a cellist on-stage, but she was drowned out and barely audible. The trumpeter suffered similarly. Clearly better suited in-studio, much like the Dutch, their effort lacked rhythm and couldn't deliver at key moments.
More than the music, I was struck by the youth of the crowd, or perhaps by my agedness. Not a surprise that a concert on a college campus would be populated with kids, but it's a scarce occasion that I'm considerably older than 90 percent of a crowd. I fear this will become less and less rare as time continues to pass.
Not only do they provide top class football, the Euros are educational too. European footballers have the option of playing for either the nation in which they were born, or the nation of either parent. Kâzim Richards, an Englishman, decided after not qualifying for England's national side, to join Turkey, where one if his parents was born.
To gain Turkish citizenship, he, as all Turks, had to take a Muslim last name. And so Kâzim Kâzim was born. Good to know that if I suddenly become among the best footballers in the world I could join the Germans, perennial favorites in both Euro and World Cup competitions. I suppose I'd better hit the training grounds.
Today concludes the group stage of Euro 2008. The football tournament, a contest between European national teams, has been thrilling in the preliminary rounds, each days games offering something marvelous. The Dutch, a side close to my heart both because of their open, aggressive style of play and the wonder of their country, have been dominant, scoring brilliantly and with ease. Spain has also impressed, though they will be tested early in the knockout rounds, where they often falter.
With matches daily, keeping up with the tournament has been a challenge, particularly with its matches played during the work day. Fortunately, ESPN has been much better about broadcasting this tournament, and most afternoons, a match greets me upon my return to my hotel.
Perhaps the greatest appeal to international football tournaments like Euro and the World Cup is the ceaseless stream of matches, offering neutral fans little respite. When most matches are of this high quality, played daily, fans can barely recover from the drama of one match before being thrust into another, then another.
The schedule also inhibits the endless post- and pre-game analysis, most of which offers no insight. What’s left is sport of the highest quality and drama, with few distractions. Amazing what happens when commerce isn’t allowed to gut the essence of athletics.
The ceremony, held in the garden outside the Gale Mansion was brief and a bit moving. Behind Andy, I watched Angela looking him from, her gaze brimming with love and joy and elation.
As we sat down to dinner, the skies opened and it began to rain, then hail. Timing everything, an hour earlier and we would all have been scrambling, instead it was a bit of entertainment while the food arrived.
Andy's family was surprised and thrilled my toast wasn't vulgar or inappropriate. It seemed a real and serious concern given how many people made comments to me about it at the groom's dinner the night before. Her dad then stole the show with an emotional speech only a father can give.
Now they're in Europe, married and I'm back in Philadelphia.
Despite an unceasing mist, having already bought my ticket, and under a mild obligation from work, I again visited Citizens Bank Park for a Friday night Phillies game.
Arriving late, the first pitch I saw was hit out of the park by Jason Werth for a three-run home run in the second inning. In the third he approached the plate with the bases loaded. Again he drove the ball into the seats.
Soaked and shivering, I committed to watching Werth's third at bat. He again came through, though this time with the bases empty. My coworkers having disappeared to an in-stadium bar, I abandoned the game, hoping Werth wouldn't continue his home-run binge and set records. Returned to my hotel I learned that he did not continue his success and that that my departure was well timed, there was little scoring and no change to the outcome.
Down to DC for the weekend, the highlight a trip to the new Nationals Park. The stadium is new, clean and modern, but fails to stand out. There are no moments of astonishment, and my inability to identify its best featuer speaks volumes. PNC Park in Pittsburgh is the best ballpark I've visited, in large part because of the wide gap in left-center field that reveals the river below and skyscrapers beyond.
Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia incorporates the concourses into the game, with fans able to stroll above the bullpens, gather above the brick wall in centerfield. That Nationals Park takes all the basic design elements of these parks — wide concourses and better people-moving systems — but fails to add anything remarkable disappoints.
The highlight of every Nationals game is the Presidents Race. Because the Pirates were in town, the Pierogi Racers joined the race, their tastiness too much temptation for Teddy Roosevelt who chased them aimlessly while George and Abe battled to the end with Washington taking the win:
Two weeks in Europe, a week home and it's back to Philadelphia. There, with fewer dinner parties and concerts perhaps I'll finally review trans-Atlantic travels, or just blog more than twice a month. Or perhaps I'll just occasionally check in with a post admonishing myself for my failure to blog.
Last fall's optimism appears to have been well-placed, as upon my return from Holland and its myriad tulips, greeting me were sprouts from the bulbs I planted. In a week, perhaps two, these sprouting leaves still fighting their way through the dirt will bloom, bringing color and life to my garden, if only briefly.
Whether I'll be in Minneapolis to enjoy the bloom remains an open question. Content from the trip forthcoming.
Amsterdam behind us, it's a chilly day in Paris, overcast and gloomy. Tomorrow, we head for Tours, and hopefully warmer weather.
Blogging will be sparse until I return, having left the cord for my laptop at home, probably the most important non-travel document I could have forgotten. Utter failure.
Having just settled home after two months on the road, it has quickly again become time for another jarring shock to my body's clock and my sense of place.
Tonight, as the sun falls over Minneapolis, I board a plane to head east. Stopping to greet the sun in Iceland, I'll continue to arrive in Amsterdam Saturday afternoon. From there a two week jaunt across four countries ensues. Tales forthcoming.
Today the National Archives released Sen. Clinton's schedules while she was first lady. More than 17,000 pages will have journalists combing through the files for days, but it's good to know that major news organizations have their priorities straight, as the first story emerges from the data dump:
Hillary Was in White House on 'Stained Blue Dress' Day:
Hillary Clinton spent the night in the White House on the day her husband had oral sex with Monica Lewinsky, and may have actually been there when it happened, according to records of her schedule released today by the National Archives.
The day after Sen. Obama gives the best political speech of my lifetime, and the media quickly returns to the frivolity of an affair ten years in the past. Pathetic.
The Champions League is the premier club football tournament in Europe, pitting the best teams from leagues throughout the continent against each other. Several years ago, ESPN bought the rights to air Champions League broadcasts in the U.S. Soccer fans hoped this would improve access to the matches, even if on tape delay, and grow the sport here in the U.S.
Instead, ESPN relegates CL matches to ESPN Classic. Fine. They certainly aren’t helping grow the sport, but that isn’t ESPN’s job (apparently that is to ruin all sports and all sports highlights by backing them with Nickleback songs and editing them such that I pass out disoriented before the conclusion of the segment).
Asking the bartender if she could switch to ESPN Classic, she failed, but offered ESPN 2 as an alternative. Unfortunately with sporting events, you are either watching the match or not. CSI: Miami may be a close substitute for CSI: Darfur (those guys have their hands full), but speed billiards are in no way an acceptable substitute for the highest level of European club football.
Clearly, my folly for an interest in the most popular sport in the world.
A brief weekend in DC involved painting my sister's kitchen with her friends. Zack, above, struggled keeping paint out of his hair.
Absent long from my house my dreams and projects lie fallow. To help someone else move theirs along is a strong substitute, and the end result was terrific.
Months before the event, before there is any indication of the scope or nature of protests at the Repbulican National Convention in St. Paul, the police are escalating the conflicts to come:
ST. PAUL -- St. Paul police are about to issue Tasers to all 370 officers on the force. Police say they are a safe way to stop a potential threat, but some people say Tasers are dangerous and sometimes deadly....
Shortly after the new shipment of Tasers arrives in St. Paul, the Republican National Convention will come to town, and with it, protestors who may or may not get violent.
Claims that tasers are safe, non-lethal options for crowd control are false. Between 2001 and 2004, more than 70 people were killed by Tasers. Since, studies have shown that the weapons are not as safe as the manufacturers claim, and long-term effects of tasing have not been well examined.
However more troubling than the lethality of the weapons is the decision to deploy them. Providing police with what they perceive to be a safe, simple option for controlling a non-compliant citizen and they are sure to use it. But don't we want violence by law enforcement — and to be clear, tasers are violent — to be the last resort and not the first?
Offering a supposed non-lethal weapon as an alternative to a gun makes some sense if tasers were used exclusively in situations where officers would otherwise be using a gun. But there are countless anecdotes of police using tasers to subdue subjects to don't comply with an officer but are not violent, examples like the now-famous "don't tase me bro" student.
In a loud, chaotic protest, where the line between passionate expression and dangerous activity may seem blurred, arming police with a more dangerous, deadly tool to control the crowd is ill-advised and could prove catastrophic.
The trees shoot skyward, thin and straight, seemingly defying physics to tower above. Their canopy darkens vast forest, making it intimate, private. Along the banks of the winding rivers the canopy clears, deepening the valley and offering smaller trees a change to tangle themselves into the moss and ferns and dirt.
The water winds its way through the forest, slowly until it finds a drop. Then cascading down it rushes into pools below, coating everything in a damp mist. Moss covers the nearby trees, their branches wrenched in crooked green tendrils.
Trails throughout lead us by several falls, each impressive. Some twist perilously close to a cliff's edge, others bend beneath a ceiling of rock and we stoop to pass.
At the end we brave ever increasing mist to stand underneath and behind the waterfall. The sound of a wall of water rushing by quiets everything, the air is warn and wet and my ears fill with an immense roar. It cascades from above in a torrent, trapping me within as it speeds perilously by.
With a holiday weekend and a free plane ticket, it was again time for a trip across the country to Portland. It remains the my favorite U.S. city, green and , easy to navigate and to wrap my mind around. The city is close to nature of all kinds and full of culture and food and beer.
This trip, perhaps too brief given the hours of air travel necessary, was nonetheless satisfying. Spending time with Scot and Kelly is always terrific and they always entertain. The highlight of my trip was a visit to Silver Falls state park.
Winding paths took us behind waterfalls and through a lush green forest, trees glistening with damp moss. Recent storms had downed huge trees, roots ripped from the ground with alarming ease. While this closed a path, limiting our hike, it also reminded of the ongoing tumult in nature, forests constantly growing and dying, to grow again.
More pictures to come.
People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.
-Rogers Hornsby
Winter’s end nears, and while not yet here, the three words "pitchers and catchers" signal its soon demise. And as those words promise baseball’s arrival, they also tell of longer days, warmer nights and another season to try again.
Hooray.
My second week in Philadelphia I have settled in to a hotel with modest cooking equipment including a two-burner electric stove. Overambitious, I picked up some lamb tips from Trader Joes and returned to my room to make dinner.
Limitations of the provided cookware aside, I question the wisdom of providing cooking facilities in poorly ventilated hotel rooms. Within minutes of applying heat and lamb to the pan, the smoke overwhelmed the pathetic range hood. Realizing this, I tried hastily to abandon my plans, plunging the lamb and pan into the sink, but to no avail, as the smoke alarm began its horrible bleating above.
Hotel staff seemed accustomed to this, swiftly arriving at my room and disabling the siren. Happily the alarm for a little smoke in the room is separate from the evacuation alarm and the sprinklers and the only outcome was some mildly annoyed neighbors. Returning to my soggy lamb, I’ve decided braising to be the best form of cooking available to me, and indeed finished as such the lamb was more than palatable.
Braving sub-zero temperatures, Mollie and I drove to St. Paul to see John Edwards speak at the Carpenters Union Hall. He spoke for about 15 minutes, covering the same themes that have earned my support these past two primary cycles -- poverty and inequality, restoring America's moral authority in the word, and universal health care.
The crowd was enthusiastic, though as Edwards repeatedly assailed a health insurance CEO for an exorbitant salary, I mockingly said, "Let's get him!" This is the difficulty with Edwards populist message. He at times relies on creating an enemy out of wealth rather than a rigged economic system.
I hoped Edwards would stress his electability more, it's his strongest argument at this late stage. But my criticisms of his appearance are largely because I've watched his ralies and speeches on the internet, so the material was too well worn to be truly inspirational. That it was Sen. Edwards' third state, having begun the day in Oklahoma didn't help his performance, which I'd say was average, improved by his natural magnetism and clear passion for his subject.
Certainly I intend to support him in the caucus on Tuesday, though I'd welcome a chance to see Sens. Obama or Clinton as well.
A gentle hum, warm air flowing through my vents and the power has been restored. Credit Xcel with a rapid response, 42 minutes by my count.
The temperature is -10. And moments after arriving home from a John Edwards event in St. Paul, the electricity in my home and throughout my block shut off.
Xcel Energy estimates four hours until power will be restored. But having an excess of technology is valuable in these moments, and surrounded by candles and a decending temperature I blog.
