It's official

So lets party. I'm waiting for the speech. I missed talking with you today, but something happened at my place. One more little kink in the ever evolving thing that is the blog. I haven't been paying close attention to my email since I was glued to the tube. We can only talk like this because the moment I hear a cheer go up and Keith shut up, I'm dropping you like yesterdays apple pie. I made it. I'm not very good at making one of my favorite of foods. This is a failing I'm determined to overcome soon.

Brother Can You Spare a Dime

From one of my Republican friends

I can hear you saying, "She doesn't have any friends does she? But even if she did, would she have a Republican friend? Well, yes and no. We used to work together. He is a voice talent, and I was an actor, occasional voice talent, and make-up artist, and we had the same agent. We don't see each other anymore since I no longer work. But he knows I blog, claims he reads me, and this morning in my inbox was this gem.

Wasting Money in Utah

I don't understand the strategy or tactic of spending money on campaign ads in a State that is the safest bet for McCain in the nation. McCain is in more trouble in Arizona. And yet, night after night I see the Reverend Wright ad over and over. I have been robo called. And if pissing off mormon soccer moms is what your going for, then by all means interrupt dinner with a recorded political message. And if you're not aware of the Reverend Wright flap from the primary, and you are hearing about it now, you are a very low info citizen if you're a voter at all. And if you are that low an information voter, you will probably vote for the guy who doesn't make you feel stupid, and I'm guessing that would be the old man running with the hot babe who looks like Tina Fey. What's their names? Oh yea, it's the "not Obama" spot on the ballot where it says President.

The polls have now opened in some tiny town in New Hampshire called Dixville Notch. All the eligible voters have trooped into the only polling place in town several seconds past midnight, voted, had their votes counted, and Obama won this first round, and in traditionally Republican New Hampshire. It took all of twenty minutes, if that. I thought they loved McCain in New Hampshire? Oh dear. Well, we might not be up all night tomorrow. Wouldn't that be novel? The percentage of the win in the tiny town in New Hampshire that just voted hasn't been seen since the '60's. Or else I've started hallucinating. It might be time to call it a night, but I want to watch The Daily Show and Colbert. These are the really tough decisions.

Oh and by the way, Palin bombed on the SNL Election Eve Special. It was not a pretty picture. I heard the audience gasp.

Sweeney Among the Nightengales

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). Poems. 1920.

12. Sweeney among the Nightingales

APENECK SWEENEY spreads his knees Letting his arms hang down to laugh, The zebra stripes along his jaw Swelling to maculate giraffe. The circles of the stormy moon 5 Slide westward toward the River Plate, Death and the Raven drift above And Sweeney guards the hornèd gate. Gloomy Orion and the Dog Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas; 10 The person in the Spanish cape Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees Slips and pulls the table cloth Overturns a coffee-cup, Reorganised upon the floor 15 She yawns and draws a stocking up; The silent man in mocha brown Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes; The waiter brings in oranges Bananas figs and hothouse grapes; 20 The silent vertebrate in brown Contracts and concentrates, withdraws; Rachel née Rabinovitch Tears at the grapes with murderous paws; She and the lady in the cape 25 Are suspect, thought to be in league; Therefore the man with heavy eyes Declines the gambit, shows fatigue, Leaves the room and reappears Outside the window, leaning in, 30 Branches of wistaria Circumscribe a golden grin; The host with someone indistinct Converses at the door apart, The nightingales are singing near 35 The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the bloody wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid siftings fall To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud. 40

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Drill Baby Drill

My dear friend Rachel who lives in New York sent this to me in an email. This is especially disturbing to anyone who lives near Canyon Lands. And should be of concern to all of you because it's one more way Dubya can help his buddies in the oil industry and fuck over the rest of us before he leaves office. He must be stopped. He isn't done screwing the American people yet.

Drill Baby Drill

It Rests In Your Hands

I am uneasy this election season because it matters more than ever in my lifetime, and because it rests in the hands of young and first time voters. It rests in the hands of the generation that can't be polled. The generation that has grown up always owning a cell phone. And I hope you know that it's your future we're talking about if you are of that generation. We are at a tipping point. Maybe we have passed it, I'm not sure. I grew up knowing that the first time I voted I was really an adult. It was a right of passage. It was a responsibility. I took it seriously. But I grew up in a family that talked about politics. It was a topic of conversation at the dinner table. So was religion, and the right to question, the obligation to be skeptical, and need to learn. I learned these lessons and when I encountered compromise on questions of political principle I was indignant. I was a fierce critic of my father's having taken a loyalty oath in order to keep his teaching job. This oath grew out of the McCarthy era and in order to teach one had to vow on a bible that one had never been a member of the communist party so help you God. There are two things wrong with that. It stomps on two constitutionally guaranteed rights. This is also what is so horribly wrong with the hysteria concerning gay marriage. In the land of liberty we want to say that certain of our citizens are not guaranteed the same rights as every other citizen? This is UNCONSTITUTIONAL! Those of you under thirty are probably the least racist and homophobic demographic in our culture. We're counting on you. Vote. It's important.

Nerve Wracking.

I'm finally exhausted. I have turned off the tube and I'm listening to music. Nick and I spoke on the phone about an hour ago and made movie plans for next week. We talked about the exhaustion we both feel. Yes we are old, but this is not that sort of exhaustion. This is the result of caring so passionately about the outcome of this election. We have been paying close attention for a couple of years now, or close to it. I started blogging last January, and have written about little else. Now I'm posting You Tube clips of music or poetry. The savage beast that is my political passion needs calming. So, unless something really news worthy happens between now and Tuesday, you will probably be facing a music clip.

I have finally tackled cleaning the house, and I'm looking forward to baking something tonight. Maybe an apple pie. Something to make the room warm and smell good. Something to feed my need for comfort. And between now and then, I'll be dusting.

If you want to vent or rant of flirt or whine, now's the time to let it out. Often I find the comments to a second rate post the most interesting thing happening anywhere. I can hear you saying, "Get a life!" Well, children, I had a life so exciting and full of thrills that I am now happy to keep the excitement to a minimum. My biggest thrill now, is a comment from one of you. You know who you are.

Some Other Time

Anita turned me onto the this very new Female Jazz vocalist, Jane Monheit. Thank you Anita. She's wonderful.

Poetry Sunday for Anita

The Ageless Hippie Chick Knows a Thing or Two About Jazz

Linda Sama suggested that I give Patricia Barber a listen. She's absolutely right. This woman has some vocal chops.

For my Pianist Friend

Dear Unconventional Conventionist, this clip's for you. By the way, would you leave that ring to me in your will? I know, I'm getting a little overconfident in my odds for longevity, but it doesn't hurt to hope. I know how you loves the jazz, but I really do think your going to like this. You are so much cuter than this guy and probably a better pianist, but he does your thing. He sits on the bench and plays with gusto and talent, control and passion. Here is Brubeck's Blue Rondo A La Turk.

Paula West: Like a Rolling Stone

Thanks for the tip. I know feel less like a dinosaur, and more like a woman with friends with great taste. This clip works for me on two or three levels. Maybe more. She's new to me, and she doesn't sing like a woman who should be new to me. Her back up is superb. Love the bass player. And as an old hippy I like this cover of a Dylan classic, Like a Rolling Stone.

Thank you Phillip

I would not be blogging were it not for my wonderfully generous Administrator, the wizard, my guru, and the blogger known as Sitenoise, and my friend Phillip. He has taught me everything I know about the "intertubes" (thank you Ted Stevens for that tube explanation for the internet). But more importantly he's the handyman I've always dreamed of. I always thought if a man can't fix it (whatever "it" is) he's not worth knowing. I know this is chauvinist, but I'm old and came of age in the moments before the modern women's movement got going. I can do a lot of things, but I can't fix my plumbing, rewire anything, or wield a chainsaw. Yet--I have hopes that before I die I will be able to wield a chainsaw, and better yet, own my own. Neither can I find my photos when my Iphoto application tells me that yes, seconds ago I had over 800 photos, but now I have none.

Shock of almost any sort makes my brain go whaky. Kind of like Sarah Palin has become "a whack job" to aids in the McInsane/Impailin campaign, my brain became a whack job yesterday when all my photos disappeared in an instant. I figured Phillip was probably having a lovely Friday evening, and so, when I composed my email to him, I tried to keep the panic and desperation out of my voice. I am trying to learn not to scream at men in my email, as I have alienated one good friend and come close to it with Phillip. Swearing in all caps, bold and italics, does not endear me to my men friends--all three of them. So, as the evening wore on, my brain got slower and slower heading for complete shut-down. By 11:00 I was so stupid I was trying to watch a Bond movie on On Demand. It was droning on--explosions and car chases, and lovely damsels in distress was all I could discern and it was oddly unexciting. It was probably during this portion of the evening when Phillip tried to contact me. I couldn't hear anything but the cottony crash and bang of the movie, so missed him last night. But even if I had heard the ring of the voice chat thingy, I wouldn't have been able to talk coherently. That is what the sudden onset of depression does to me. It's almost as if I can hear the circuits fizzing out and the whole mechanism slowly grinding to a halt with a dull and fuzzy sound that ends in nothing.

This morning, around noon, after I'd had one cup of coffee, Phillip called. I didn't time him, but within a few minutes he had restored my photos. Then he restored my flock application and with that taught me how to put my favorite, daily reads on RSS feed. What a man. So, thank you Phillip. It's so nice to know a handy man. I owe you cookies darling--chocolate chip or peanut butter?

Accepted Political Wisdom

How did we get to be so stupid? How is it possible that people earning less that $40,000. a year think that tax breaks for the very rich are in their best interest? And what made us so stupid? Reality TV is part of my guess at an answer to that. But seriously, folks, my friends, when did poor people start thinking of themselves as the citizens who would benefit from cuts to Capital Gains taxes. And how is it possible that we buy the notion that millionaires have taxable earned income? When did the Estate Tax become the Death Tax, and how stupid are we that we think Estate Taxes will have any effect on us with our one small house mortgaged up to the chimney? We must be just about the dumbest bunch of idiots on the planet.

"(Rich Republican "experts") will tell us", as McCain has repeatedly warned in his speeches, that "spreading the money around" is a bad idea that has been tried, as he put it, by the "far-left liberals." They will whine and moan about "tax and spend" and offer predictions of doom at every percentage increase in marginal rates on the very rich.

Unless Americans understand how the economy has worked -- and how this country was built in the past century -- it is entirely possible that those false prophets will once again block changes that the nation has needed for decades. That understanding should include a review of some very recent history, too.

Will anyone besides the pundits remember what happened then and why it is still relevant now? Not unless Obama himself educates the public -- as he alone now seems able to do. The country is undergoing a teachable moment that is certain to last for many painful months -- and if the new president doesn't seize that opportunity, then his adversaries surely will.

What Obama needs to explain, over and over again, is that Democratic economic programs have succeeded in promoting growth precisely because they distribute national wealth more widely than the Republican tradition of trickle-down. The numbers have told the story for decades -- and the statistics detailing the Clinton administration's success and the Bush administration's failure have only reinforced the narrative.

Consider the cumulative performance of the stock market. Until this year, the best data available showed that on average, equities increased in value by more than 12 percent during Democratic administrations, and by around 8 percent when Republicans were in power. The largest gains in the past 80 years occurred under FDR, Truman, Johnson and Clinton -- and when the awful declines of the past few months are factored in, the Democratic record will look even better.

For the moment, scaring voters is no longer so easy. The Republican administration is nationalizing financial institutions and Republican economists are demanding big federal spending initiatives. But if Obama wants to avoid the defeats of Clinton's first two years, he must consistently remind Americans what has succeeded and who has failed -- and why.

And Especially for Susan

Brubeck as you've never heard him played before.

For Tengrain and Susan

I have a bottle of Bourbon and something nice to smoke. So I invite my two jazz loving friends, Tengrain and Susan, to spend a late Halloween evening with me listening to a great jazz vocalist play one of my favorite songs in Paris. What could be nicer. The embed has been disabled on this one some you will just have to click this link.

Real Life

There's a storm blowing in. All the leaves are finally off the big green ash tree. Melea has raked and bagged most of them. We worked together on my little third of the property together. She seems to see me as elderly now, and is a bit overly solicitous. And I'm a bit overly motherly. So in the end she does most of the work, and I sit in a chair, smoke and sip my latte, and warn her to be careful. If she stays, the property will be hers. If not, she'll get a goodly chunk of change. As it is, the big house and grounds are her responsibility. If something goes seriously wrong, she tells me, I arrange for someone to fix it, and I pay for it. But the tasks of upkeep and cleaning are hers. And she does a lovely job. We look quite respectable.

But today, with rain coming, I needed to do some final outside chores and she's gone. I now feel sore and tired and plan to soak in the tub before I retire for the evening to watch news non-stop.

I took pictures of the bare limbs of the green ash tree, uploaded them to my files and while trying to post one, deleted all my photos. Yes, that's right. ALL MY PHOTOS! Happy Halloween fuckers. If this is a cosmic trick without a treat, I'm not amused.

I gave my 1986 Jetta to a friend today. When I went to the DMV to get my new old car registered and get plates for it, I discovered that my old bank had a lean on my old old car. I thought I might just drive over there and park it in their lot, take the keys to them and tell them they have just repossessed a filthy 1986 Jetta. Congratulations Big Bank, it's all yours. But it was easy breezy to get them to sign off on the title. No money changed hands. I like that kind of transaction.

The Kitty Caucus

Diva Jood this one's for you. Happy Birthday. And for Dcup, whose Pussies for Peace are working hard to help us claw our way to the White House.

If I Were President