So my home state is currently witnessing a four-way race for governor:

a.) The incumbent Republican, Rick Perry.  AKA “Governor Goodhair.”  A man best known for being either (a) entirely incapable of wresting any kind of educational reform out of the state legislature, or (b) deftly manipulating the legislature into a knot of inaction so that pre-Robin Hood status quo pertains by default.  As you may or may not know, Robin Hood is the school finance system apparently “broken” and in need of “reform” because redistributing money from rich school districts to poor ones — which is arguably Ann Richards’ best-known legislative achievement — “doesn’t work.”  You know what’s great about living in the land without irony?  The conservatives don’t even bother with providing reasons for why the system “doesn’t work.”  They just state it as fact, and then proceed to dismantle it by hook or by crook.  Oh, he’s also known for (c) signing the bill putting the ban on gay-marriage up for a referendum in a church.  Oh, and (d) signing the hate-crimes bill only after either (i) James Byrd was dragged to his martyrdom or (ii) someone outside his inner circle found out about the time his wife caught him in flagrante delicto with an un-named male state official bent over his desk.  Intriguingly, and for reasons I don’t entirely understand, a lot of Democratic mayors down in the Rio Grande Valley have endorsed him.  In case this needs spelling out, that means that he’s getting support from Hispanic municipal officials.

b.) The Democratic candidate, Chris Bell.  A former congressman from Houston and best known for… well, shit, I have no idea.  All I remember from the convention is his wife’s touching story of her battle with breast cancer.  I’m sure he has a platform.  And a record.  Somewhere.

c.) Independent Challenger #1, Richard Friedman.  AKA “Kinky,” the front man for Kinky Friedman and the West Texas Jewboys.  A man professedly standing in the august tradition of Jesse “the Body” Ventura – he hired the latter’s campaign manager, after all.  His record consists of, well, records.  His platform consists of nothing much that I can see, other than a generalized Naderite ”plague on both your houses.”

d.) Independent Challenger #2, Carol Keeton Strayhorn.  AKA “one angry Grandma.”  AKA Scottie “Screaming Bottom” McClellen’s mother.  A woman best known for being formerly a Democrat (a crowd that includes both Perry and Delay.  Nearly every white person in Texas, it would appear, used to be a Democrat, if you get them drunk enough so that they drop the public lie that their family “were always” Republicans.  Except Dick Whittington, the man Dick Cheney shot in the face.  He was always an RPF, as we say in my family).  Precisely what she is angry about is not entirely clear, though it evidently includes doing something about education, in addition to attempting to deny tax-exempt status to the Unitarians for “not really being a church” (she later graciously granted them non-profit privileges, perhaps after having had it explained to her that her criticisms of the Unitarians as “not having a belief system” might arguably apply to at least two other Protestant denominations, the United Church of Christ and the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).  This combination suggests that she intends to run as an economic moderate (e.g., fully fund public ed.) but as a social conservative (screw the liberals).  This strategy would be essentially costless, as the chances of getting anything passed through the TX leg. on the economic side are virtually nil, and since we already have a ban on gay marriage, what more does one need to do except wave the bloody shirt?  Perhaps pass a ban on gay adoptions, but again this has few downsides for Ms. Strayhorn, since (a) Scottie lives in DC, and (b) fag-bashing is always a winner here in the lone-star state.  This strategy has the added benefit of appealing to at least some Democrats, specifically African-Americans and lower-income whites. 

So let’s review the options, shall we? 

a.) Perry wins, and proceeds to start appointing Hispanics en masse to the state administration.

b.) Strayhorn wins, and proceeds to start appointing Blacks en masse to the state bureaucracy.

c.) Bell somehow squeaks through, at which point the 7th seal is opened and Armageddon arrives. 

d.) Friedman somehow squeaks through, at which point precisely nothing changes in this state, through a combination of Friedman’s fecklessness, Republican rage, and Democratic ineptitude.

Whatever the problems of the two-party system, I shall confess I find the alternatives quite a bit more frightening in practice (even if they’re good in theory).

People ask me, sometimes, “don’t you think Texas is trending blue, what with the demographics?”  Aside from a knee-jerk hostility to any question that begins with the phrase “don’t you think” I’d say the answer is no.  The Republicans — even when they run as independents — are doing everything they can to woo brown and black voters.  And as far as I can, the Dems ain’t doin’ shit about that.

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Now, I’m as big a fan of grassroots politics as the next man.  But there are times when I just want to shake people by the scruff of their fat necks and say “dammit, when will you people learn?”   And by “learn,” I mean:

a.) mail in the goddamn voter reg forms already.  More than once I’ve walked precincts for a local candidate, and registered a couple voters, only to find out that the campaign for which I was walking fecking dropped the ball and didn’t bother to mail the damn form in on time.  All I’ve got to say to that is, if you’re going to leave votes lying on the table, you aren’t smart enough to be in this game. 

b.) if you’re walking in areas with a high concentration of Hispanic voters, you know what might be a smart idea?  Send in walkers who can actually speak Spanish.  Just, you know, a thought.  Some of us were too-smart-by-half and took a less useful language in high school (like French, or German).  I suggest you be smarter than we were and don’t bother sending us someplace where we won’t do any good.  It wastes everyone’s time.

c.) By the same token, if you’re walking in Hispanic neighborhoods, make sure you’ve got all your materials in both languages.  This should be a no-brainer.

d.) When I’m phone-banking, I pride myself on being better-than-average at pronouncing names.  It’s one of the things I think growing up in California is good for: knowing a Nguyen from a Jaramillo from a Krueger.  But in order for me to pronounce someone’s name right, you’ve got to spell it right.  If you can’t put together a decent phone list, you’re going to (i) demoralize me, your volunteer, and (ii) piss off your potential supporters.

e.) When a walker, or a phone-banker, writes down that a person with whom they spoke would like a personal call from the candidate, don’t give them a goddamn robocall.  You’ve made a liar out of your volunteer, and you’ve taken your constituent for a chump.

f.) If you’re running for office and you (i) don’t have a campaign office, (ii) don’t have a campaign phone number, (iii) don’t have a campaign manager, and (iv) run your campaign out of a goddamned Taco Cabana, that’s not “touching,” it’s a disaster. 

The fact that I came up with five suggestions from one weekend’s worth of volunteering should be a bad, bad sign for the state of Democratic politics in this state.

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Like any other red-blooded geek of a certain age, I play Morrowind.

Yes, I know I’m like a decade behind on the video games.  But there was that whole “gotta get through grad school” thing that delayed me.

One tiny little suggestion for future game programmers: since you so thoughtfully include some romance sub-quests at several points, let me suggest that you (a) include at least one romantic option for female characters (since ESIII is androcentric in that respect), and (b) eliminate the whole “get together with the nearly-nude-Nord to beat up the witch” thing.  I won’t even go so far as to ask for an LGB romance plot — I entirely understand that we’re too tiny a niche market to worry about being catered to in this area — but surely there are enough women gamers out there to warrent not stooping to base misogyny?

Anywho, back to regular political snark.

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So now we’re sending troops into Lebanon?

Can we pause for just a cotton-pickin’ minute and assess the Bush administration’s neoconservative vision?  You know the one I mean — the prediction that toppling Saddam would lead to a glorious wave of democratization in the Middle East? 

Is this the fruit of that poisonous tree?  Because if it is, I really don’t want to taste of this apple compote, thank you very much.  However, since it’s being shoved down my throat whether I will or no (does that qualify as sin?  What would Milton say?), I shall try to digest this knowledge, seeing as I was prevented from purging by the results of the 2004 election.

I’m really at a loss here to understand what’s going on.  As far as I can tell, either:

a.) the neocons were totally right, and we just need to give their vision time to work itself out.  To paraphrase our Secretary of Defense, freedom is messy.   So perhaps this is just a bump in the road.

b.) the necons were right in theory, but wrong on the execution.  This then leads to two sub-points:

i.) Things are still salvageable, but we need to re-double our efforts. So, if we put in more troops, and more money, we’ll be able to pull the whole thing off.

ii. Things are not still salvageable, because certain mistakes are too grave to repair. We are now dealing with the results of the flawed execution of a noble vision.  The bombe has collapsed, and we must figure out what to do with this injust dessert.

c.) the neocons were wrong in theory, and so it basically doesn’t matter if the execution of their vision was well or poorly done, until and unless they realize their philosophical mistakes.

d.) the neocon vision was always a lie, and a convenient cover for something else.  That “something else” could be:

i. the “securing” (plundering?) of Iraq’s oil reserves, as at least a chunk of the secular left here in the US believe, or

ii. the establishment of a series of “crusader states” to act as buffers for the creation and preservation of an American empire-by-proxy in the Middle East.  This, at least, is what I think many Islamist theocrats believe.

So, to summarize: was Bush right, mostly right, wrong, or a liar?  In other words, is righteousness ugly, or is his administration incompetant, stupid, or mendacious?

In my saner moments, moments where I imagine I have the leisure to consider rationally what has happened to this nation and this world (these moments do not happen often here in SDOE, though when I am in California I can usually recover this frame of mind), I  prefer option (c) — that the necons were wrong.  This perserves the possibility of believing that if we just get the right administration into office in ‘08, we can perhaps repair some of the damage wrought by bad thinking.  Of course, this also condemns much of the US electorate as actively supporting bad policy, since they re-elected the man. 

In my less sane moments, moments when I am more Texan, more vicious, hateful and mean, I believe in option (d), suboption (i).  To paraphrase a graffitist from my college days: no oil in Darfur, no oil in North Korea, oil in Iraq.  This condemns the U.S. electorate to ignorance rather than foolishness. 

Which world would you rather live in?  A world in which U.S. democracy “works” and reproduces the will of the electorate, as instantiated in the current administration?  Or a world in which U.S. democracy is a sham, and the greatest state on earth has been hijacked by a pack of loons, plutocrats, and/or religious fanatics?

UPDATE: Apparently at least one person at the Chron also prefers option (c).

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Good stuff, but then I am most definitely part of the choir to which he was preaching.

I had one question, on a matter close to home. He had that neat little graphic showing how much of Oakland will be swallowed up by the sea when West Antararctica and/or Greenland fall apart.  It was disturbing, and not just because we all love Jack London Square. 

This was disturbing because it caused me to wonder: how much does Sacramento have to worry? 

Downtown sits at “about” 20 feet (I’ve had some trouble getting precise figures: Executive Airport is at 20, and SMF is at 25, according to the National Weather Service.  The American River at Howe Avenue is currently running at 18 feet, while the channel bottom is at 16.5, according to the Sacto Co. Dept. of Water Resources).

Twenty feet is, apparently, what will happen when either West Antarctica or Greenland goes away. 

Will Sacramento be the new Amsterdam?  Or the new Atlantis?  Either way, I wouldn’t recommend buying property in Stockton.

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Another part of the successful wedding weekend:

Hot Doug’s, the Sausage Superstore and Encased Meat Emporium

Ate there, had the foie-gras and sancerre stroke-of-genius.  Go before you die.

Oh, and make sure to listen to the theme song.  I recommend the techno mix.

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I’m sure someone has commented on this before, but…

It occured to me while I was in Chicago for a friend’s wedding (a fabulous event, more on which later) that the true sign of being a shameless yuppie/disgusting guppie/feckless buppie/all-around hopeless member of the upper-middle-class is not, in fact, having a cell phone (which, if it ever was such a symbol, was surely eclipsed the minute the Matrix came out). 

No, the real sign of being a member of the tribe is having a cell phone that carries an area code extension different from that in which you currently reside.  It almost doesn’t matter what the “marker” area code is, although of course by election it is almost certainly one of the following:  415/510/650, 617, 312, 212/646/917, 213/310/323/818 or (possibly) 202.

To be sure, to some extent this is a product of the fact that UMC people tend to grow up in one of those places (Bay Area, Boston, Chicago, Manhattan, LA, and DC) and end up working in another, and “it’s just easier to keep the old number, since everyone already has it.”  Or, they grow up in quite some other place (Rochester, or Cleveland, Sacramento, say, or Minneapolis) and end up going to school in UMC-land and it is at that point that they pick up a cell-phone.  And they then keep the number either for reason #1, or for sentimental “old-school ties.”  Or, I suppose, it’s possible that (by chance, or sheer bloody-mindedness) they move someplace slightly outside the orbit of the elect (Atlanta, say, or Philadelphia.  Phoenix, Portland or, God forbid, Dallas).  At which point they might still keep the number for reasons #1 or #2, or (and this gets slightly darker) as a hidden badge that they’re not “really” provincials, and seek eventually to move back to UMC-land.

But really, I think this is all a sign of the fundamental rootlessness of the upper-middle class.  A symbol, if you will, that if we live anywhere, it’s five or six places at once, in a kind of circulating flow: raised in LA, undergraduate in the Bay Area, law school in Boston, internship in DC, and phase 1 of career in Manhattan (mix-and-match to suit the circumstances of biography — the order of the cities doesn’t matter).  Exchanged, like kula-rings, or perhaps more precisely like the district officers of the British Empire, between the various centers of intellect, power, and commerce.   And having an area-code extension for someplace else (Boston, when you currently reside in Palo Alto; or Manhattan, when you’re presently working at a firm in Los Angeles) is a sign not so much that we wish we lived someplace else — we can live anywhere there are loft apartments and gentrifying neighborhoods and restaurants with nouveau cuisine — but rather a sign that we don’t really live anywhere at all.

There are a number of conclusions to be drawn from this argument, but instead I shall leave the reader to ponder a line from a poem I can’t at the moment put my hands on (eternal gratitude if you can find the full poem): “the doors of my father’s house are open Hilton-wide…” 

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