i'd rather be stayin' in

headin' out to san francisco
for the labor day weekend show...
and honey i didn't know that i'd be missing you so
come monday, it'll be alright
come monday, i'll be holding you tight

i'm heading out today for a different kind of show. over a different holiday. but i'm heading to san francisco nonetheless.

i'll be there over memorial day, and the boy's birthday, to boot. no, i'm not kidding, and i'm not amused.

true, we had an early birthday celebration for him, and all the spaceneedls were together in a far-flung place last week. so it's not like this is a tragedy.

but there are times when the work-life balance is all effed-up. and it never seems to be in favor of the "life" part.

funny how that works. ha ha. and yet, as previously noted, i am not amused.

desert update

apropos nothing, today the seattle city council voted to boycott arizona.

not me. i'm still not boycotting.

until after this weekend.

gold in the desert

politically, i would prefer to boycott arizona.

instead, we're just a few days from hosting an event in scottsdale.

go figure.

in addition to the wedding we're attending on saturday, all the spaceneedls near and far are gathering sunday for a celebration of my parents' 50th anniversary.

so, on this auspicious occasion we're setting aside the political for the personal and the parental. despite the fact that we'll be behind the lines, amidst a retinue of right-wing relatives.

for this celebration of the half-century, i'm totally prepared not to talk immigration law and ethnic studies and the "we're all arizonans now" gibberish spouted by the unemployed half-term governor from alaska. these opportunities don't come along every day, after all.

i can make this proclamation as long as no one on the far right runs their mouth without engaging their brain. if that happens, no one would blame me for gently inserting a stray fact or two into the mix. verdad?

where was i? oh, yes...setting aside politics. i can totally do that. i can simply bask in my parents' enjoyment, as well as the sunshine forecast for the event. i can turn my face to the sun while turning the other cheek. i can avoid politically charged topics while recharging my solar batteries.

i want to set a good example for the newlyweds, after all. not to mention for the happy couple married almost as long as i've been alive (kidding, mom!). come to think of it, my children will be in attendance, too. that's good examples for three constituencies at least...not that i'm counting.

what could possibly go wrong in that scenario?

my pledge to my parents: in the heat of the desert, i'll leave the heated rhetoric to others. worst case, i'll referee and send everybody to the bar...after which everybody flies back to their respective corners of the country.

after 50 years of parenting, it's the least i can do.

maybe one day my children will do the same for me.

where was junior?

it’s ken griffey junior’s fault.

if he hadn’t been asleep in the clubhouse, the mariners wouldn't be in an unrecoverable tailspin. they wouldn't have lost 10 of their last 12 games.

and the players wouldn't be freezing out a longtime beatwriter who had the nerve to report pesky facts about junior sleeping in the clubhouse during yet another season-killing loss.

we in america demand more from our sports icons.

where was junior when the oil rig blew up? sleeping in the clubhouse.

where was he when the arizona legislature passed its odious racial profiling legislation? snoring on his sofa.

didja know tiger woods pulled out at the players championship? and by that i mean "he walked off the course during the fourth round complaining of a neck injury." where was junior? putting on a sleep apnea clinic.

if the mariners want to pay the guy $5 million to be ichiro's designated tickler, that's their prerogative. if don wakamatsu doesn't think junior's a good pinch-hitting option over a catcher hitting a terrifying .140, hey, he's the manager.

but if junior's gonna be aleep at the switch while the rest the world falls apart around him...

well, he's no role model, that's for sure.

week and weary...

the oldest person in the world died this week.

The world's oldest person, a Japanese woman on the southern island of Okinawa, has died a week before her 115th birthday, a spokeswoman said Wednesday.

Kama Chinen, who witnessed three centuries, was born on May 10, 1895.

i don't think it was "her time to go," necessarily. i think she was just pissed off and wasn't going to take it any more.

after several decades to think about it, she might've been increasingly annoyed that yet another generation of kids was growing up with no respect for tradition. she might have been in high dudgeon that an unruly teenager would run onto the field during a baseball game. even so, surely she was shocked to learn that the penalty for running around the outfield during the all-important phillies-cardinals game is to be hit with a few thousand volts of electricity.

did you know that hundreds of people have died after being tazed? it's true! so it's entirely possible that the penalty for teenage foolishness at a ballgame might've been death. gee, baseball's a tough sport, isn't it?

speaking of capital punishment, sort of, cops in oakland blew away bambi this week.

"...under orders to "dispatch the deer," officers shot it seven times before it died. Animal control officers were also on the scene.

Officials said the deer was gunned down because 'it was acting disoriented in an urban environment.'"

kama chinen might've been disturbed to learn that the penalty for being confused in an urban environment is death. if that's the standard these days, the vast majority of city dwellers will not only not live to be 115---many of them won't last the week.

as someone said, if you were lost in the woods, you might be acting disoriented as well. good thing bambi and his friends aren't packing heat, then, huh?

do you think kama chinen remembered hurricane katrina and FEMA director michael brown? was she cursed, like the rest of us, by an indelible memory of the half-wit president saying, "brownie, you're doing a heck of a job"?

(if by that he meant brownie was doing a heck of a job killing people, as if he were holding their heads underwater himself, then yes, brownie did one hell of a job.)

that memory alone might've been enough to push kama chinen past her breaking point. but no, there was more. brownie wasn't done killing crowds with his laseriffic perspicacity. squinting conspiratorially on fox news this week, he said the obama administration may have welcomed the damage from the river of oil (still) pouring into the gulf of mexico. because...secretly, the administration didn't support the oil companies, and wanted to shut down offshore drilling altogether.

j'accuse!!

brownie, it should be noted, is an incoherent boob whose next intelligent syllable will be his first. the fact that he's expert at arriving on the scene of a bad situation and making it much worse makes him the perfect sort to feature prominently on fox news.

how grateful are the people of nashville that brownie wasn't first on the scene of their current disaster?

Amidst the news of a car bomb attempt in New York City and the oil slick inching towards the Gulf Coast, the flood that has devastated Nashville, TN and the surrounding areas got lost.

National news outlets are reporting the story, but the damage is far, far worse than viewers are hearing.

as bad as it is, it could be worse. the brown reaper could be there wading through the streets, swinging his scythe from the grand ol' opry to dollywood. waving a "mission accomplished" banner as flood-drenched, half-drowned residents flee in panic, leaving the city a shell of its former grandeur, to be replaced by an ersatz, disneyfied replica for the tourists who go home and say, "new orleans has really bounced back, we had a great time there!"

did i say new orleans? i meant nashville. obviously.

the list of the week's pernicious events goes on and on. and on. any of them could've been the last straw for someone frail and diminutive and exhausted by humanity's changeless idiocity. let's face it, when you're 115 years old, it probably doesn't take much to rush you up to the end of the diving board...and just a little bit beyond.

the way things are going, if this week hadn't gotten little kama chinen, the next one shirley would've.

double your money

mrs. spaceneedl has a job.

this is good in that she's been a burden on society these past several weeks. more deleteriously, she's been a burden on herself, because her self is greatly defined by her employment status.

when mama ain't working, mama ain't happy. and when mama ain't happy, run.

when she lost her last job, she was certain it'd be months before she found another. she had visions of calendar pages flying off with no prospects in sight. i thought she was wildly mistaken, and told her so, but she was undeterred. disaster was nigh, the wolf was at the door, and the cavalry was nowhere to be seen.

so far i've resisted the urge to say, "i told you so," but if the right moment comes along, i'm neither above it nor beneath it.

i understand her apprehension--we're built to be a two income family. we can hop along on one leg for short distances, but pretty soon we're face down in the mud.

the fact that 98% of the country is similarly situated comforts us not at all.

anyway, as of last friday the calendar pages are where they belong, the wolf has temporarily retreated (it's always at the door, you know), and our little house of cards is slightly more stable.

for the moment, mama's happy.

that should last at least until the work-related travel begins.

drill this

as the oil washes ashore, there's silence.

not a word is heard from the "drill here, drill now" crowd, petrochemical lapdogs whose teeth drip oil but whose voices have gone quiet.

it wasn't that long ago that they couldn't stop running their mouths...

"offshore oil rigs are perfectly safe and environmentally friendly and if you don't support domestic drilling you're not a real american."

the people spewing big oil lies are predominantly republicans, but even the obama administration recently opened the door to increased drilling off the east coast. that plan has been quietly put on hold.

oil is still pouring into the gulf by the hundreds of thousands of gallons a day. the spill is currently larger than jamaica, and it may be months before the leak is stopped. and yet--somehow--the jackals still insist they should be allowed to keep drilling...

"I would urge that people don't make a long-term policy decision in the midst of an emotional kind of crisis," said Exxon President Lee Raymond.

raymond, it should be noted, is the kind of person who would caution against gun control while the columbine shootings were still going on, and against airport security on 9/11.

are you ready for the images of dead and dying animals covered with oil? the few individuals that will be saved are a sliver of a nanofraction of the number that have already been killed, those that will be killed, and those that will sink beneath the waves and never be seen. and lest we forget, 11 workers were killed when the rig exploded.

the spill is expected to surpass the ecological disaster caused by the exxon valdez. that catastrophe occurred 20 years ago, and it's predicted that it'll be another 10 years before the arctic environment fully recovers.

so, gulf coast, only 30 years to go. yay!

the fishermen whose livelihoods have been wiped out by the spill are now lining up to work for the company whose product is killing the fish and shrimp and crabs in the gulf. is it bad karma to suggest BP's new employees might consider sabotaging the company whenever they get the chance? you know, stealing office supplies, taking long lunch breaks, severing their global communications network?

yes, probably it is. so we'll not suggest it.

instead we'll suggest that exxon and bp and lee raymond and sarah palin and newt gingrich and mary landrieu and all their oil-drenched sycophants go somewhere and drill each other--while the grownups figure out how to undo the damage they're so eager to continue inflicting on the world.

hot fun in the summertime

we're going to a wedding next month.

that's the good news.

the bad news is, it's in arizona.

i hope no one asks to see our papers.

i mean, what if the local constabulary thinks we look like illegal immigrants?

"papers!"

"yes, we read them. which ones do you mean?"

"you're about to experience an arizona saguaro a whole new way, boy. now show me your papers."

"yes, well, see we're not actually carrying any papers. unless you count this copy of the u.s. constitution. perhaps you've heard of it?"

that's not a conversation that would end well for us.

mrs. spaceneedl grew up in arizona. i lived there for three and a half years.

cosmically speaking, we got out just in time. just ahead of the collapse of the rule of law. the principle that says you can only be accosted by law enforcement if there's a reasonable suspicion that you've committed a crime.

a standard slightly above, "you look suspicious, bitch."

the premise that an illegal immigrant just has "a look" about them is a little nebulous, legally. as a source of illegal immigrants, given arizona's proximity to mexico, one might reasonably conclude that most of the offenders would look mexican.

therein lies a problem: in arizona many people look like they might be of latino, hispanic, or other spanish-esque descent. they account for up to a third of the state's population.

will arizona's already-stretched police departments stop and harrass all of them? if not, why not? aside from the fact that state's new "you all look alike to us" law is unenforceable, of course. put another way, if even the anti-immigration loon tom tancredo thinks this measure goes too far, you should conclude it's way, way out there. really.

as an aside, dollar for dollar, no one commits more crime than white folks. the people who threw the global economy into meltdown and liquidated trillions of dollars? overwhelmingly, they were zanetti-suited white boys. why aren't we profiling their ilk? better still, why aren't we putting them to work doing dishes, laying sod and pouring searing-hot tar on the neighbor's roof?

why aren't rednecks carrying signs demanding we raid high-finance workplaces, fence off lower manhattan, or close large bookstore chains?

perhaps arizona doesn't have an illegal immigrant problem. maybe, and i'm just speculating wildly here, arizona (like the rest of the country) has an illegal employer problem. maybe if employers weren't falling over themselves to hire cheap (and desperate) labor, those laborers would stop risking their lives to come here.

but then employers would have to hire americans, and as everyone knows, americans are lazy and don't want to work. so that's out.

arizona's official unemployment rate in march was 9.4% (which means its actual unemployment rate is significantly higher). that's a lot of people who don't want to work. coincidently, houses in the state's major metropolitan areas are so far underwater it may be years before they see sunlight again.

all of which implies that arizona has a lot of problems that have nothing whatsoever to do with illegal immigrants. and yet somehow the state government thought this was an ideal time to make themselves a laughingstock. and to help tourists decide other states might be better destinations for tourism dollars.

it's early yet. the wedding isn't until the end of may. it's possible cooler heads will prevail, and arizonans will decide their new law isn't such a good idea.

if not, we'll still have time to complete crash courses in "anti-constitutional rhetoric for dummies" and "how not to look all illegal-immigranty in arizona".

up in the air

the missus isn't wild about air travel.

she doesn't care much for crowded commercial flights. she breaks into a cold sweat at the mere suggestion of turbulence. and she white-knuckles take-offs and landings.

so you can imagine how she feels about float planes.

(hint: not good.)

but sometimes a gal's just gotta get up and go places. like victoria, bc, for example. and while she would've preferred a leisurely drive as prelude to a soothing ferry ride, circumstances sometimes call for speed.

a day trip for job interview, fer example.

thinking it might help to be able to see what was going on, the nice people at kenmore air let her sit next to the pilot. that turned out to be a mixed blessing. the takeoff was no big deal, but the landing...

heading in, the plane passed low over an outcropping of rocks. from the copilot seat, the rocks reportedly looked really big and really close. hopefully they won't make her pay for the ten indentations in the dashboard.

despite it all, the interview went well.

so well that the company invited her for another round of interviews in raleigh, nc.

she won't be driving to that one, either.

goal oriented

i skipped yoga today.

i planned to make up for it by by going for a run.

right after i put together the portable basketball goal that's been sitting in a box in our garage for, oh, six years.

big mistake.

put it together for the kids, mrs. spaceneedl said. we want them to spend their time outside getting exercise instead of indoors looking at lcd screens, don't we?

well, of course we do. there's no arguing with the perfectly reasonable.

"sure," i said, cheerfully.

big mistake part deux.

my simple plan, so innocent, so unassuming, was stampled by the assemblage of ill-fitting and unrelated parts coiled in that box.

i spent the next four hours reading instructions written by someone to whom english is at best a third language. wrenching together pieces that were lovingly machined by drunken cave sloths on a three-day tequila binge.

"Our presentation in content to the users instruction's is overall and quickly understood. There is reliable and correct that the information is offered in the instruction's and try hard to avoid the artificial error. The mistake that will be found in printing, if causes some careless mistakes, please forgive it."

of course. thanks for the heads-up.

Warning: may contain small parts, which some assembly required. For indoor and outdoor use only.

shut up. seriously.

"Take careful aim at bolts. To start bolt threads, hold bolt firmly in hole and attach after washed nut."

are. you. kiddingme? i just told the missus that i expect to visit the emergency department today.

"Do not have heavy pressure or big striking to such arm bracket."

okay, the arm brackets don't fit, and the holes therein are too small to accommodate the bolts you've provided. i'm literally drilling out the too-small holes with the largest drill bit available at ace hardware.

“Do not subject bolts to over-twisting.”

fuck you. and your stupid twisted bolts.

i skipped yoga. for this.

and the goal is still unachieved. unrealized. unassembled. we're hours away from shooting hoop one. assuming i dedicate half of next weekend to instruction pages 7-12.

generally i like to finish the projects i start. and i wouldn't mind shooting hoops in the spaceneedl driveway.

but right now, sitting here, i'd almost rather put milk and sugar on the remaining pieces and eat them for breakfast. almost.

another glass of wine, and i'll consider it for dessert.

next week: building a 42-foot yacht with MEMS-based solar propulsion. or a small hadron collider. both, if the weather cooperates.

right after yoga.

things to ponder when you're a pretzel

most of the time at yoga class, i'm in the zone.

which is to say, zoning out. concentrating on staying upright. until someone asks a question or exclaims painfully or tips over.

full disclosure: no one tips over more than moi.

i look forward to these classes every sunday because it's about the only time during the week i'm able to get out of my own head and out of my own way for awhile.

when concentration fails me, and i exit the zone, my mind wanders to some odd and distracting places.

{my knee is numb...i wonder if the feeling will ever come back...i have to pee}

sometimes class runs long. or is particularly arduous, degree-of-difficulty-wise. as noted previously, i'm not particularly pliable. nor am i practiced in the finer, philosophical points of yoga. these factors contribute to additional lapses in focus.

{these women are incredibly flexible...i can totally do this pose...if i dislocate something first}

the instructor, and many of the students, have been practicing a long time. they're annoyingly balanced and limber and strong. me, i'm willing to try really hard. and once in awhile the instructor rewards me with a compliment.

"good, michael...you're less awkward than usual today."

no, she's never really said anything unkind. in fact, she's been nothing but encouraging. she thinks that one day i might reach a state of santi, and get some bhoga from class, if i demonstrate some vidya and don't get all tangled up in granthi.

i think she's right.

{i have no idea what she just said...but she's smiling...quick, nod and smile back}

actually, i am better at this than when i started. i practice some of the poses on the rocker board and the bosu trainer during the week. octogenarians at the ymca regularly compliment me on my balance. i think they must feel sorry for me or something.

{maybe he has some kind of debilitating condition...and at such a young age...poor thing.}

i no longer get as sore in the days following class. i don't fall over quite as often. i stay in the zone a little longer each time. it's a restorative way to start a week that invariably takes a turn for the befeebling.

{that's not a real word...yes but it sounds kinda funny...is there any more champagne?}

* * * * *

semi-serious note: not a class goes by that i don't think of my friend kary, who also enjoys yoga. i bet she's pretty good at it, too. she doesn't know it, but she's an inspiration to me, sunday and every other day.

zombie earl eats tiger's brain

"I want to find out what your thinking was. I want to find out what your feelings are. And did you learn anything." -- earl woods

"i want to find out who the skanks were. i want to find out if you caught any communicable diseases. and i want you to hold still so i can bury this nine iron in your skull." -- elin woods

tiger woods is back! isn't that great? he's a famous golfer, you know, but he's been away from the game for awhile.

now, just in time for the masters, he's back with a new lease on life, a new escalade, and a new tv spot selling nike. that's nike the lifestyle, we have to assume, given that no products are mentioned.

isn't it a great spot?! tiger just stands there, looking sullen, as his long-dead father quizzes him about something very important. we're not sure what...maybe it's that young tiger swiped some rum from his parents' liquor cabinet. or maybe he blew off putting practice to go on the mike douglas show. or maybe it's that he had sex with an assortment of porn stars, escorts, and his neighbor's daughter.

it's a great spot! on so many levels, not the least of which is that earl woods allegedly was a huge womanizer. that's why having zombie earl crawl out of the grave to lecture tiger, like jacob marley hectoring ebeneezer scrooge, is such a brilliant, ironic ploy by team nike.

watching this spot, who could resist embracing the remorseful, misunderstood eldrick, and then rushing out to purchase an assortment of nike balls and, um, other equipment?

who could resist gluing their eyeballs to the tv set during a week of tradition like no other -- the masters? particularly when billy payne, chairman of augusta national golf club, also is lecturing tiger about the great golfer's alleged moral inadequacies.

augusta national, you know, is legendary for its upstanding tradition of excluding women, blacks, and other undesirables from its ranks. so payne knows of what he speaks when he says tiger is "a disappointment and a disgrace as a man and a role model."

the drama is palpable! can you feel it? and we haven't even talked about the golf yet! tiger is a really, really good golfer. did we mention that? that's why everything he says and does is so important, and why this commercial is so profound and really, really good.

yay, tiger! yay, nike! yay drama, and the 24-hour coverage thereof!

important safety note: watch out for zombie earl! he's eating brains. yours could be next!

why the unexpected is perfectly predictable...

a pebble falling into a pool of stillness produces rings that spread throughout the entire pool. a butterfly fluttering its wings here can produce a typhoon far away.

do you suppose that equilibrium really is the steady state of the universe?

that for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction, bringing everything back into balance?

for every good thing that happens, is something bad required?

is existence itself is a zero-sum game? it would explain much...but what would it mean?

around here it means when you finally pay off a car loan, the transmission of said car falls apart.

and every time you update your kitchen, the electrician makes a mess of your new kitchen floor. and the refrigerator door. and the pantry. and the basement.

finally getting your finances in order? unemployment will make a shambles of that.

is one child seeing the light at school, reversing a long indifference to academics? not to worry, the other one (the one identified as "academically gifted") will cheerfully raise the red flag of "not adequate progress."

are you seeing the not-so-subtle trend here? the pendulum swings one way, then it swings the other. the universe sees you surfing ahead of the wave, arches a cosmic eyebrow, gives you a small, not-unkind smile, and suddenly you're eating sand and picking seaweed out of your ears.

it's not personal, probably. it's not that the universe is conspiring against anyone in particular. it's just karma keeping things real.

for every yin there's a yang. for every zig there's a zag. for every bit of matter there's a bit of antimatter busily canceling it out.

if you can see the harmony in these relationships, and can appreciate their elegant dance, it might be easier to accept the little ups and downs life throws at you. in fact, if you were really, really smart, you might even be able to develop an algorithm that successfully predicts such events ahead of time.

if you had at your disposal the fastest, most powerful computer ever conceived, along with a program capable of reconciling an infinite number of variables and an infinite number of permutations, well...you could be very popular in vegas.

actually, you could be god.

and as god, you could tell people, hey! guess what? you can't say you're "pro-life" and then deprive the living of healthcare. you can't say you're christ-like and then molest the most vulnerable members of your flock. you can't enable consumption of more fossil fuels and creation of more greenhouse gasses and call yourself an environmentalist.

well, you can, but there will be consequences you don't foresee or intend. and it's quite possible you won't like them. i'm just sayin' is all...

people would ignore you, of course. they have little patience for a god that doesn't worship the free market. this may contribute to ongoing imbalance in their steady state. or some cognitive dissonance, at the very least.

there's no telling what it would take to bring these folks back into cosmic symmetry. we'll stipulate that it wouldn't include denying care to sick children, or spending some quality time in an l.a. bondage club.

it's possible the entire purpose of their existence is to serve as a bad example, to be counteracted by folks with the opposite aesthetic.

equipoise. on balance, it's an interesting theory.

* * * * *

update: for every ruined transmission, there's and equal and opposite auto repair. today, out of the blue, the missus noted a direct deposit into our checking account. it was a bonus from her former company, promised prior to her departure but not delivered. the amount was slightly more than the cost to fix the transmission.

unexpected...apparently we need to update our algorithm.

i think it's supper time...

king crab legs
sauteed bok choy
fettucini primavera (roma tomatoes, arugula, pine nuts, olive oil, salt)
a bottle of very good prosecco

the girlchild and i made the pasta ourselves, from scratch. cranked through a pasta maker the missus and i received as a wedding gift almost 19 years ago. it was still brand new. never used, until now.

pristine cuisine.

maybe it's a laettner thing

i don't like duke.

this is a logical disconnect, because i like mike krzyzewski, and i respect the program he runs.

in fact, i'd love it if the university of colorado ran its basketball team the same way.

that said, every time duke plays, i pull for them to lose. the further they go in the tournament, the better that loss will feel.

sorry coach k.

all are welcome

"we can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when adults are afraid of the light." -- plato

something very, very good happened in america this week.

it feels like the first time in a long time something this good happened. but then you remember, it was less than 18 months ago that barack obama was elected president.

healthcare reform is a goal that generations of americans worked for, but never achieved -- until this week. the bill that passed was not what progressives were hoping for when obama and a democratic congress were elected in 2008. it's not single-payer, and there's no public option. but that's like saying there's no genie granting wishes inside your tiffany lamp.

providing care for 30 million uninsured people, outlawing discrimination for pre-existing conditions, and reducing the deficit is a "win" for everybody -- even the people who would rather get sick, go bankrupt and die early.

speaking of right-wingnuts, why do they take such great joy in trying to ruin a great thing for everybody? currently i'm patiently tolerant of their infantile temper tantrums and their lashing out at those who helped.

but patience, like the healthcare bill, has its limits.

at some point, say when a wingnut follows through on the threats of violence against those who worked for this day, we may have to kick them off the island.

at some point we may have to say, fine, have it your way. no healthcare for you. similarly, if your house is ablaze due to your substandard wiring -- no fire department will respond. if a home-grown terrorist threatens to blow up your local federal building -- no police protection will be available.

while we're at it, no social security when you're ready to retire. and no national security provided by our armed forces. no taxpayer funded services for you at all.

that's what you want, isn't it? no taxes at all? fine, you got it. oh, and keep your cars off our roads. get your feet off our sidewalks.

and if we see one more of you spitting on a congressperson, or calling them faggot or nigger? an all-expense-paid waterboarding, just because you like that kind of thing so much.

fair enough? excellent. glad we could have this little chat.

by the way, we'll still happily provide public education for your children -- we're hoping they don't turn out like you.

on the other hand, if you can calm down, take a deep breath, and act like civilized adults, maybe we can arrive at some sort of accord. maybe we can allow you to live among us.

we're all americans, after all. no matter how hard you try to prove otherwise.

come into the light.

all are welcome.

a death tax we can live with

the washington state legislature is pondering ways to balance the state budget.

this is not an idle exercise, as the governor is required to propose a balanced budget, state law forbids the state to be in the red at the end of a two-year budget cycle, and borrowing money to fill a gap in the operating budget requires a 60 percent vote in both houses of the legislature.

yes, i looked it up.

so, in a pro forma attempt to be fiscally responsible, along with the usual draconian cuts to education, healthcare and other human services, the legislature proposes to raise the tax on cigarettes by a dollar a pack.

the people affected by the cuts have no recourse, of course. not to worry, they're used to getting screwed. the tobacco industry, however, has the unlimited resources and unmitigated gall to fight anything standing between their products and their victims.

to that end, a front group for the death-by-tobacco industry is running ads in washington, using anti-tax teabagger talking points in an attempt to derail the proposal. their radio spot starts out like a straight right-wing anti-tax screed, but quickly shifts into high tobacco-defense mode.

it's so painfully transparent and obvious that it would be funny...if it weren't coming from people who traffic in disease and death on an epic scale.

there are 440,000 tobacco-related deaths a year in the u.s. i'm no mathematician, but i'm pretty sure that's a lot of lung cancer. and pancreatic cancer. and cervical cancer. and stomach cancer.

it's a lot of pain and suffering and since we don't give proper due to such things, it's also a lot of money. direct costs, loss of productivity, loss of tax revenue. funny, nobody ever points at tobacco companies and says, "you cost the economy $100 billion a year, so we're going to tax you enough to make up the difference. is that okay with you bloodsuckers? 'cause if it isn't, we'll just shut you down."

framed that way, the i bet the bloodsuckers would be okay with it.

healthcare is unaffordable or unavailable to tens of millions of americans -- so who could argue with a tax on the world's leading cause of morbidity and mortality? republicans, of course.

in this case the tax would be paid by the customers, which seems a little unfair, since they're paying extra for the privilege of dying a slow, excruciating death. but, whatever...the customer is always right.

what a strange and wonderful country we live in, where the idea of taxing people to pay for government services is an outrage...but allowing a product that kills 440,000people every year to stay on the market is okie-dokie.

it's funny how death is so easily accepted, but taxes?! positively unamerican. no one tops the u.s. in this particular brand of cognitive dissonance and bizarro non-logic.

the washington state budget ain't the only thing unbalanced around here.

the future, gaining

six years ago we returned to seattle, determined never to leave.

we fell in love with the place the first time around, in the late 80s. as it happened, we left anyway, following jobs that we imagined would become careers that would lead us to security if not prosperity. for the next 15 years, even as we moved between a series of cities that were not seattle, we pined and planned to return.

things change. quick.

for example, it wasn't long ago that a hybrid car from, say, toyota was a technological wonder and a bit of a status symbol. now it's a harbinger of "oh my god, it's behind us...get out of the way!"

it wasn't long ago that the washington huskies basketball team couldn't win a road game and had played itself into last place in the pac-10. tonight the dawgs have won 7 straight away from hec-ed pavilion, and won the pac-10 tournament. they're march-madly dancing.

it wasn't long ago that barack obama was elected president. the result of which would be a restoration of the u.s. to a place among respectable nations and bringing balance to the force. that or the implemention of an al qaida hegemony and the end of america as we know it.

the jury's still out on barry's impact on the future of history.

today another earthquake rocked the pacific rim, this time in indonesia. this evening, the spacedogs are acting nervous and unsettled, for no apparent reason. the boychild said, "they're sensing an earthquake is about to happen here." he laughed. we didn't.

today mrs. spaceneedl and i cleaned out the garage and sent a truckload of stuff to goodwill and the dump. meanwhile, the kitchen that would not live or die continued its journey through perdition. you know when the subcontractors are working on the weekend that things continue to skid sideways.

here's a crazy thought: what if we added another city to our personal history? san diego, say, or wilmington, nc. that'd be unexpected, wouldn't it?

things change. quick.

to misquote a wise man, "don't look over your shoulder...a prius may be gaining on you."

food fight

as a dinner guest in someone else's home, i try never to get in an argument with the host.

over politics.

it's such bad form.

and yet, that's exactly what happened this weekend.

i don't know which was more upsetting, the disagreement, or that i broke my own rule.

my transgression is magnified by the fact that our own kitchen is still useless -- we need all the free cooking we can get.

that particular neighbor's kitchen is pretty well closed, i reckon.

p.s. i was right. he was wrong. not to mention stubbornly proud of his wrongness. wear that pie, em-effer. wear it!

spontaneous combustion

the crazy is contagious.

it's the only explanation.

all around me, smart and capable people are turning into snarling, conniving, beast-things.

it's because someone nearby, someone in a position of authority, is afflicted with a bad case of the jumping-up-and-down crazies.

and whether the crazy is airborne or in the water or transmitted psychically, it's going around like plague.

those of us not yet infected ("i'm not infected! i'm not! look, here's a sample of brain tissue!") are still affected in ways many and profound. we flinch in the face of the lunacy, and unsurprisingly it makes us look nuts.

others, fortuitously positioned at a distance, scurry away wild-eyed at our approach.

they know. they've been warned or somehow they've intuited it...

the crazy is contagious.