Posted 10:06 PM by Angie Schultz

Molly Ivins, RIP

Molly Ivins has died.

Just Saturday the Chronicle carried an article saying that her cancer was "back with a vengeance". Apparently this was her third round with the disease. Man.

I forget what first brought her to my attention. I hear her speak at our campus when I was in grad school, and afterwards stood in line to have her sign my copy of her first book, Molly Ivins Can't Say That, Can She? Later, here in Houston, I saw her at the Brazos Bookstore -- where, I note for the record, she was wearing the most hideous olive green velvet dress -- and got her to sign Nothin' but Good Times Ahead. I also have You Got to Dance with Them What Brung You, and Shrub: The Short but Happy Political Life of George W. Bush. Lest you wonder at the title of that last one, it was published in 2000. The shortness of Bush's political life, it seems, was greatly exaggerated.


Molly Ivins Can't Say That, Can She? was witty yet serious, full of sharp but affectionate portraits of Texas problems and the politicians who cause them. (I particularly commend her pocket bio of John Henry Faulk, "One Lone Man", as an example of How It's Done.) Nothin' but Good Times Ahead was less so. It seemed she'd spent most of her best stories -- and her good humor -- on the first book. Instead of amusing titles like "Practicing Nuance Down at Luby's", we got things like "GOP SEEMS TO VALUE UGLY BUT TRADITIONAL TACTIC OF US VS THEM", complete with HUMORLESS ALL-CAPS TO SHOW OUR SERIOUS INDIGNATION. I realize the book designer is responsible for that sort of thing, but it does sort of reflect the tone of the book.

I didn't even consider voting for Bush in 2000, but even I thought Shrub was a bit overblown. Sure, she revealed some things which, if accurate, you'd rather not have in a President, but they were hardly shocking exposes of souls in bondage, either.

I've been ignoring Molly lately, which is kind of sad. She'd grown less and less funny and more and more shrill, until finally she was writing incoherent drivel like that described here.

So rest in peace, Molly, with the emphasis on rest and peace. Give it a month or two before you unionize the lesser angels, or petition for a pardon for Lucifer.

Posted 4:34 PM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: Astronomical Ambitions

For reasons that are on double secret probation, this is a good time to post this picture. I dedicate it to Moira, who was at last fullfilled in her astronomical ambitions.

May we all be so lucky.

Haleakala Observatories, Maui, Sep. 2003

Labels: Foto Friday, Hawaii

Posted 9:03 AM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: The Next Voice You Hear

Sunset in Houston, Texas, Summer 2006

When I was about ten or so, my parents went to bed one night and let my little sister and me stay up and watch TV by ourselves. We saw The Next Voice You Hear, a 1950 B-picture in which God takes over the radio waves.

I remember that there was a great deal of build-up and tension in the movie, with some people expecting a hoax, and others sure that Judgment Day had arrived. Unfortunately, I forget how it ends.

Anyhow, that night we went to bed a little spooked. We looked out the window to see a mysterious red glow in the eastern sky. It was far too early to be sunrise. Was it some kind of Sign?? What could it mean??

The next morning we told our parents all about it, and they were mightily unimpressed -- until they opened up the newspaper and found that there'd been a refinery fire in Illinois, on the other side of the river. Whew! No Sign, then.

Back to the photo: I don't know exactly when this was taken. I had a roll of film developed, and on it there were a few pictures that I know were taken on May 18, and some that were taken December 10, and in between there were around half a dozen of this sunset. I have a notebook for writing these things down, but I usually forget to do it. I vaguely remember that it came at the end of a day of storm, so it was probably summer instead of fall. Since summer lasts from about the end of April until the beginning of November here, the point is kind of moot.

[This week we're trying something new: Winter! An interesting experience. I'd blame Al Gore, but he's nowhere in sight.]

In the original of this picture there are some annoying bright lights which spoil the aesthetics. I've removed them, and darkened the front of the church, but I've done it with the "burn" tool (in accordance with ancient and accepted photography practice), rather than crude level-twiddling or cloning. That's for any photo purists out there who might inexplicably be reading this.

Labels: Foto Friday, Texas

Posted 10:30 AM by Angie Schultz

Chicken Mother! (or, The 28th Amendment)

You've heard of the nonsensical chickenhawk "argument" -- only those who've served in the military have the right to advocate war.[1] One counter-argument is that this effectively silences many women. After all, if only actual combat veterans have the Absolute Moral Authority to opine on war, then you're leaving out a lot of women, because historically they've not been allowed in combat.

But now Barbara Boxer has shot down (um, har, I guess) that response: us dames let our wombs do our fightin' for us! (The Fighting Wombs -- that might be a good name for a sports team at a women's college.)

Boxer reached down deep for squishiest, goopiest, most feminine "logic" she could find, and asserted that Condi Rice had no moral authority to advocate military action, because she has nothing to lose. She has no baaaaybeeees to be ground up by the Bush War Machine.

Now, this has raised a great hue and of course cry in certain segments of the blogosphere, charging Boxer with being a traitor to feminism. (Note that these aren't the feminist segments of the blogosphere.) I think that's a bit overblown; after all, Boxer admitted that the fruit of her womb[2] are not of an age to be in the military either. (Enjoy Boxer's "truth to power" defense. Because, you know, she's just a Senator of the majority party from the humble state of California.)

In other words, it's a lame argument, but it's an equal-opportunity lame argument. However it does allow me to disclose my cunning plan.

Last year, Rep. Charlie Rangel tried again to get the draft re-instated. Like John Kerry, Charlie thinks that "Right now the only people being asked to sacrifice in any way are those men and women who with limited options chose military service..."

Charlie, like Babs, thinks that only the parents of soldiers -- which generally does not include Congress -- have the Absolute Moral Authority to send people to war.

I've decided Rangel's right. So I propose a new amendment to the Constitution: no one can be a member of Congress, President, or Vice-President, unless they offspring serving in the military. Past service -- their own or their kids' -- does not count. Only those with offspring currently serving in the military may serve in Congress.

I'm flexible on how this rule is to be implemented: can only those with serving offspring be eligible to run? Or do we just draft whatever offspring they already have when they take office? Either is fine by me.

This will eliminate all sorts of tedious debate about whether those who haven't served in the military, or those who don't have children, or those who don't have children who are serving in the military, are fit to hold office. And it will leave everybody else in the country alone.

[1]Shallow thinkers like Glenn Reynolds seem to think that this works in reverse, too -- that only those who served in the military[3] can advocate against war too. What they fail to understand is that, while war has consequences (e.g., people die), peace has none. Wherever did you see a headline screaming: "Peace Breaks Out! Germany Invades Denmark!"? Nowhere, of course. Therefore advocating peace requires no particular moral authority.

[2]I'd wonder if Boxer had her Fruit-of-the-Womb briefs on, but somebody at Hot Air beat me to it. Still, if a joke's worth making, it's worth stealing.

[3]Or, ideally, their children. What the hell is with the Democrats' sudden child fixation? First Pelosi puts the Speaker's gavel in the grubby, jelly-smeared hands of America's children, and now they're claiming some sort of reproduction test for officeholders.

Posted 2:07 PM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: Painting with Photons

Mt. Rainier, Washington, Sep. 2005

This photo looks like an oil painting, especially the bare mountainsides, and most especially the smaller peak on the right. It could be an illustration of a remote fortress in a novel about a lost civilization.

When we started out for Mt. Rainier it was beautiful, but clouded up as the day went on. Then it cleared again towards sunset. Clouds can be so cruel.

Labels: Foto Friday, Washington

Posted 9:04 PM by Angie Schultz

The Yellow Skies of Texas

Lord knows I love giant fruits of all kinds. peaches,[1] pineapples, artichokes[2] (which, er, technically aren't fruit, but it's the same spirit). And I was disappointed that when I lived in Australia, I never got up to Coffs Harbour to see the Big Banana.

However, even I draw the line at giant foreign foodstuffs roaming unrestrained through American skies. That is the plan of an Argentinian-Canadian "artist", who wants to float a 1000-foot long banana over Texas.

César Saëz wants to build a giant bamboo and paper banana which will be launched from Mexico and float twenty miles above Texas. At that altitude, the banana will be as long as the width of the full moon (although much thinner, and hard to see). While the article (and the project's web site, Geostationary Banana Over Texas) refers only to Texas, at twenty miles altitude the banana will be seen over an area more than twice as large as Texas.

Note also that, despite the name, the banana would not be geostationary. It would be if it were going to be tethered to the earth, but it isn't. I guess they thought "geostationary" sounded cool.

The Canada Council for the Arts has already given Saëz $15,000[3] for his banana balloon. Now, I think we can all agree that Canadians who give Argentinians money to launch bananas at the US from Mexico must be up to no good. Why, they might be smuggling in illegal aliens. Or, given the altitude, extraterrestrial aliens. It could also be a weapons platform.

Seriously, though[4] the banana is supposed to stay up for a month "until it disintegrates", according to the Chronicle article. "Disintegrates" is a nice term -- makes it sounds like the giant banana will simply vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving behind only the fresh scent of pine. Er, banana.

But in reality, when all the helium leaks out, the superstructure is going to be heading back down to earth. And the heavier bits (e.g. the bamboo) are not going to so much float as plummet. And unlike the Columbia, the banana will not burn up in the atmosphere. It's going to come down as is.

Can we declare war on Canada for supplying money to this banana-bin Laden?

Frankly, I'm of the opinion that the "art" project in this case is not visual but performance arts. That is, this clown claims to have this nutty art idea, and the actual art is the outraged (or enthusiastic) reactions it garners. (There was a "performance art" piece in London like that a couple years ago: a showing of some sort was announced, and when the public rolled up at the appointed place and time, the venue was closed. The "art", in that case, consisted of the bewildered, milling crowd. Unfortunately I can't remember enough details for a Google search to be fruitful.)

My opinion is strengthened by this quote from the artist: "It's an artistic statement and a spectacle. One thing I love is the issue of truth or hoax, and I love the ambiguity,"

Oh, and there's this bit from the "On the Concept" part of the web site:

It is in Texas because it has oil,
and a lot of Walmarts, Exxons and
Halliburtons. (and the Ranch)

It is a buffoon act, trying to impress...
Texan dominant Aerospace,
and all the Gun Clubs.

(Well, the artist has succeeded in giving the impression that he's a buffoon. On the "Collaborate" section of the site they say they need translators. They should try to find some English speakers, too.)

Art? Or hoax? If you think it's art you're a gullible cretin. If you think it's a hoax you're a knuckle-dragging Philistine. And the artist gets thousands to insult you, either way. No wonder he loves it.

Governor Goodhair opted for the non-comittal comment:

"If it works, people will probably go ape over it. We have to be careful, though, because putting bananas in orbit could create a slippery situation," [Perry spokesman] Robert Black said.

In any case, I think we can all agree on one thing: Geostationary Bananas Over Texas will inevitably be the name of a rock band.

[1]I have actually been to the Big Peach. We used to get sometimes get fruit there when I was a kid.

[2]I've been to the Big Artichoke, too. OK, I drove past it on my way to Monterey. I wish I'd stopped.

[3]While the $15K may have been for the banana, the Council has showered money on him in general:
1998: two separate grants of $15000 and $2000
1999: two separate grants of $18000 and $2000
2000: $1500
2001: $750
2002: $16,000
2004: $15,000
2005: two separate grants of $2000 and $1500

Of course, that's all in Canadian dollars, so I'm guessing it's about $50, American.

When you do the search, you must stick in the funny furrin accents and umlauts, or you'll come up dry.

[4] Actually, I am serious.

Posted 1:27 PM by Angie Schultz

Foto Friday: Paris When It Drizzles

I've been to Paris twice now, both times in January when the skies are leaden and it's not very photogenic.

In the daytime, anyway:

Eiffel Tower, Jan. 1995

To get this picture I used my little collapsible table-top tripod -- about the size of my hand -- and lay on the ground at the base of the statue of Marshal Joffre, which is at the far end of the Champ de Mars, across from the Ecole Militaire.

I hurriedly snapped a few photos, because I was afraid a gendarme would come along any minute and ask me what I was doing down there, and I don't have enough French to give a good account of myself.

For a while there, I thought the internet was going to fail me. I couldn't find anything that told me what statue that was. But then I found a map that identified the Place Joffre, which is that little bit at the end of the Champ de Mars, and another that identified the statue in the Place Joffre as that of [duh] Joffre.

Whoever he was. That takes you to the French Wikipedia link. The amusing English translation tells us that Joffre was "wire of wet cooper" -- the translation of fils de tonnelier. A tonnelier is a wet cooper. A cooper of course is a barrel maker, but I never knew they were divided into wet and dry. Section C of this site gives us the vital differences between your wet and dry coopers.

The translation also helpfully offers links to works by and about the Evil Joffre. Whether there was a Good Joffre is unknown. (I gather "Mal" is an abbreviation for "Marechal".)

But, can I be sure it was that statue? I mean, Paris is lousy with statues. Fortunately, the internet comes through again. It's the thing just to the upper left of the blue bus. If you look close you can see a tourist sprawled at the base.

Labels: Foto Friday, France

Posted 9:50 AM by Angie Schultz

Sangria Math

That must have been what I was using when I calculated that twelve days of petits fours images would get us all the way from Christmas to Epiphany. (Also when I calculated that twelve days of petits fours anagrams would be fun.) I guess the point is that the Twelve Days of Christmas starts the day after Christmas. Perhaps it was going to be the Thirteen Days of Christmas but that was just too scary.

I photographed a few more anagrams, but they're even less funny than the ones I posted. So I'm quitting with twelve, even though Epiphany isn't until tomorrow.

I did, however, save the best one for last:


Too Much Information.

I'd like to thank, or possibly curse, the Swiss Colony for making talking petits fours in the first place. We had a choice of these "Happy Holidays!" petits fours, or petits fours that spelled out Merry Christmas or Let It Snow. The "Merry Christmas" petits fours were mini petits fours, which Niles objected to, and the "Let It Snow" petits fours were strawberry only, which didn't interest me. Although that can be used to spell out "We Lit Snot", so maybe next year. ("Merry Christmas" contains several phrases employing the word "shit", but we are far too decorous to ruin the Christmas spirit in that way. Probably.)

Most of the anagrams were discovered through the use of the Internet Anagram Server. You didn't think I'd waste my time with this silliness, did you?

If you liked this series -- thank you, but you're kind of odd. You might want to check with your doctor. If you hated it -- it was all Niles's idea, and he stole it from Fawlty Towers.

The actual petits fours are gone now, long gone. But they live on in our hearts. And our waists, hips, and thighs.

Start here to view the whole sordid affair.

Posted 3:26 PM by Angie Schultz

Quitting Plastic Turkey

It's harder than you might think.

Tim Blair received a plaintive cry for help from a fellow who'd always believed that the "plastic turkey" story was real. Hit the link for a round-up of sources useful in fending off those plastic turkey junkies.

The question nobody asks is: so what if it was? That is, what if the turkey were plastic?

For those of you who came in late, on Thanksgiving of 2003, President Bush made a secret trip to Iraq to spend a (very) little time with the troops. He was photographed hoisting a beautiful roasted turkey on a platter.

The Washington Post noted that “A contractor had roasted and primped the turkey to adorn the buffet line..." (that link, stolen from Tim, also has a photo of Bush holding the bird). In other words, it was a real turkey, but it was not meant for eating. It was probably inedible, having been undercooked and sprayed with gunk to make it shiny and brown. Because it was a display, you see. For show. Not for eating. A prop.

So what is the material difference, in this context, between a plastic turkey and a real but inedible turkey? I can't see any.

But that's OK, because in order for the plastic turkey story to have drumsticks, you'd have to think that someone believed that Bush alone was bringing the troops their turkey.

Here's the scenario:

It's Thanksgiving Day, and the troops in Iraq are sad because they can't be home eating turkey with their loved ones. To add insult to injury, they are called to the chow hall anyway, and made to sit and listen to some brass gas away for a few minutes. But then a miracle occurs! President Bush walks in, and he has a turkey with him! They will have Thanksgiving dinner after all! Hurray for Bush!

So they cheer him, and he says a few words, and has many pictures taken of himself, hoisting the bird. The soldiers gather 'round in gratitude.

But, then -- uh oh! --Bush leaves, and they discover the turkey was only plastic! And as they stand in consternation and dismay, the brass announces that they'll be eating their usual ration of stale bread and water today.

Poor fools! If only they weren't drawn mainly from the ranks of the poor stupid minorities, they might've asked themselves:

1. Are there ovens that big on Air Force One?
   
2. Or was that turkey cooked in Washington?
   
3. Hours ago?
   
4. Was it refrigerated? Do they have refrigerators that big on Air Force One?
   
5. Why'd he only bring one turkey for 600 of us?
   
6. Will there be mashed potatoes? Cranberries? Stuffing? Pumpkin pie?
   

Well, no, of course it didn't go like that. I saw the film on TV, and Bush did not stride into the hall bearing a turkey. He picked that turkey up from its resting place, hoisted it, and made some sort of joke. After talking to the troops for a few minutes, he got behind the steam table and dished out food.

I remember this, because he was serving up sweet potatoes, which I hate. I asked myself, if I were in line, and the President of the United States offered me a sweet potato, would I take it? On the one hand, it comes from the Spoon of the President; on the other hand, it's a stinkin' sweet potato.

And, for those who can't quit the plastic turkey cold turkey, we will stipulate that he did not stay there slinging up hash until the last man was fed. That was indeed a photo op; before dinner was over he turned the sweet potato-infliction duties over to some Halliburton employee and went to do something else.

Many people who have been in the military have noted that real-but-prop turkeys adorn Thanksgiving buffets on American bases all over the world. This, to my mind, is a shocking waste of food. After all, they could always use a plastic turkey.

Perhaps our lefty friends would like to focus on that outrage instead.

Posted 7:52 AM by Angie Schultz

"Hi, Ma!" Sang Art

Listen up, yo! Here's my idea for a phresh holiday movie:

It's Christmas,and hot hip hop deejay N. Torious Thugg has decided to turn over a new leaf, based on some heartwarming crap I'll have to dream up later. He's quitting his drug-n-thug lifestyle and going back to his birth name of Homer Wimple.

But Thugg/Wimple didn't get where he is all by himself. He had the backing of some very Badd Boyz, and they're not down with his new plans. So on Christmas Eve, Thugg's car plunges into the ocean in a spectacular fiery crash[1]. His body is never found.

Fast forward one year. It's Christmas Eve again, and the cream of hip-hop society is invited to a party at a secluded [ahem] haunt owned by a wealthy, eccentric record producer. Music! Weed! Coke! Smack! Hors d'oeuvres! But when the guests roll up, they find that the producer is as mystified as they are. It's not his party; he got a cryptic invitation as well.

But they party down anyway, and before too long the wine is flowing like water, and the blood is flowing like wine. Sundry killings and apparitions occur, and it soon becomes clear that they have something to do with Thugg's death. The victims try to flee, but they're trapped in the house by a mudslide (or a blizzard or volcano or sumpin).

Is Thugg's ghost behind the killings? Do ghosts arrange for party trays? Perhaps it's really the work of Thugg's friend, the record producer. Or maybe Thugg is still alive.

I see Eddie Murphy in the role.

See the shocking conclusion to this holiday slay ride, opening approximately the same time Hell freezes over.

You know, petits fours overdose has been known to induce hallucinations, and that results in creativity. Get your fix beginning here.

[1]You may think that "ocean" and "fiery" are incompatible. That's because you have not seen the 1979 Hal Needham specrapular Death Car on the Freeway, in which the eponymous Death Car crashes through a flimsy barrier, bursts into flames, and then slams into the ground. Why waste perfectly good flames on dirt? Have you ever seen a flaming car sail through the air? It's coooool!

Posted 12:15 PM by Angie Schultz

Agar Has Mint

Generally, only if they're Chordata. Members of other phyla tend to not have incomes.

Begin the search for knowledge here.

Posted 10:36 AM by Angie Schultz

The Sleeper Wakes

"Hibernating" blogger Scott Burgess has awakened from his long winter's nap. Go give the grumpy old bear grief for his absence, and see who he's gnawing on today.

Posted 8:58 AM by Angie Schultz

Stag Hair Man

Well, there is supposed to be some sort of moonbat gathering in D.C. this week. The petits fours have predicted this.

The petits fours see all. The petits fours know all. What do the petits fours have to say about THE FUTURE? Begin here to find out.

The petits fours know the question in your mind. And the answer is, "Just until Epiphany."

Posted 10:24 AM by Angie Schultz

Everything Changes on New Year's Day

But not as much as I'd hoped.

Waikiki Beach, Jan. 1, 2002

I love this photo. The man in the yellow trunks absolutely makes the picture, and of course at the time I wished he would go the hell away or sit the hell down and quit spoiling my photo.

I love the pastel candy colors. This is what the print looks like. But when I scanned the negative, I got something perfectly nice and crisp, but not quite the same. A little color-level diddling recovered the candy colors. So when you read about photographers being fired or having awards rescinded for tweaking the photos (see the links in this post), remember that what comes off the CCD chip is not the final word on the picture. (I also edited out a power line that hung across the top of the frame.)

This would make a great postcard. You look at it and know that the world is perfect and everyone in it is having the time of their lives.

Unless, of course, you took the picture and you know that the photographer is a dumpy woman who does not get into a bathing suit in public and is feeling like a damn fool standing on the beach in black jeans and is worrying about the money the trip is costing her because it was a business trip and she had to pay it out of her own pocket and the now-concluded business part didn't go very well and why did she get into this stupid business in the first place and now she's going to Molokai and that's going to cost even more money and why did she let her boyfriend talk her into this expensive trip rather than staying alone in her apartment in Sydney, sulking, which was her plan for New Year's.

The moral of the story is that the enjoyment of an event is largely in the recall, rather than in its unfolding. That's what I've always found, anyway. Which is why you should always take lots and lots of pictures. Maybe one will turn out like this and fool you into thinking you were having a good time.

What did change that day is that immediately after (or before; I forget) taking this picture, my telephoto lens just came apart in my hands. It was an old, cheapy lens -- a much-appreciated gift at the time, but never very good. I managed to put it back together, but it didn't really work right. I wasn't able to get a new one until the next year.

At the time, I was trying to get a picture of the pink building in the center of the photo, the Royal Hawaiian Hotel:


That's just an enlargement from the scan above. This beautiful, romantic old place was built in 1927. One of the large modern buildings in the background (maybe the one with the pink trim) is also a part of the hotel. The way it usually goes with these old places is that the dull modern block has the best rooms, while the rooms in the lovely old hotel are cramped and short on amenities. From the outside (er, but not from here), you can see that the lanais in the old building are barely big enough to stand on, and may be just decorative. I was going to say that you probably can't even get the internet in the old hotel, but the web site says you can.

Naturally, I've never been able to afford to stay there -- cheapest room is $420!

UPDATE: Almost forgot -- Happy New Year!

Posted 10:16 AM by Angie Schultz

Ha, Grim Santa

Not this year. Got a lump of coal instead.

Probably because of this series, which starts here.