The Great Wal-Mart of China

My spiel to the local rag about Wal-Mart fucking up the neighborhood...

Ah, Wal-Mart (or as my brother likes to call it the “Made in China Store”)! You just can’t get that many Chinese imports outside of a, well, I guess a Wal-Mart in China. More than 70 percent of the products sold in Wal-Mart are made in China. Now, I don’t have any problem with free trade between the nations of the world; I’ve always considered my self an internationalist. But I do favor my own country first. I think you always have to take care of your own backyard before you mow the neighbors.

One of my problems with Wal-Mart is their seemingly pro-american, thumbs-up-working-class aura that cremates all the working-class competition by suckering the working-class into thinking they have the best prices just because they sell staple items like diapers cheaper but set typical department store prices for other items. Sure, they sell music CDs for under $10, but who cares when all they seem to stock is such uninteresting tripe as “Blue Collar Comedy Tour” and any number of soulless carbon-copied mediocre neo-country pin-ups that’d set Hank Williams spinning in his grave like a centrifuge (which would be fitting since the prototype for that device, a whirling arm apparatus, was utilized to determine drag, which is the state of existence into which I’m immediately thrust when subjected to the aforementioned songs).

One time, in a moment of abysmal ignorance, I purchased a $10 pair of pants at Wal-Mart. By the time I reached the parking lot, they had a hole in them!

Nah, nah, I’m only joking. I would never buy a pair of Rustler Jeans. I’m just saying that, in my unscientific opinion, I think they sell junk. And plenty of it, as I perceive things.

And let us not fail to consider the scenario wherein after the decimation of all surrounding competition, Wal-Mart someday packs up and skips town. What then will Beaverton be left with?

So go ahead, build the Wal-Mart in Cedar Mill. Conjure for us the zenith of all gridlock catastrophes! Smother any remaining essence and character from the ever-dwindling numbers of charming small towns. Go ahead and employ our neighbors at what you consider “livable wages” – I’m sure your gargantuan organization is offering as much as you can afford. Why not build up China’s economy at the expense of America’s most precious commodity, its citizenry? All for a $5 tube top!

Maybe I’m wrong. After all, the Vice President of the United States of America thinks Wal-Mart’s doing great things for the economy.

Or maybe I’m right. And Wal-Mart is a gluttonous vortex of ravenous greed and venomous disdain for the working class, wrapped in a nylon, colorfast fabric American flag. On sale now for $19.86!

I’ll take one! And drape it over a Wal-Mart shopping cart – a casket for the ideals of small business.

He's Only Hurting Himself

Bush's reason for vetoing federal funding of stem cell research:

"This bill would support the taking of innocent human life in the hope of finding medical benefits for others," Bush said after rejecting calls that he change his policy. "It crosses a moral boundary that our decent society needs to respect."

(Pause)

To reiterate, he's a selfish, murderous traitor to democracy.

Here's the obligatory pic of Bush looking like a douche bag.

Croc of Shit

I'm listening to Guided By Voices at work. Doesn't everyone? There's a line in "Quality of Armor" off the Propeller lp that sums up my notion of large-headed talking head Sean Hannity, whose show I had the displeasure of sampling last night as he whined at his college professor for giving him a bad final grade (he claimed he recieved the low score because he extolled the virtues of Reagan -- too bad Hannity wasn't a Central American farmer -- to his socialist instructor).

"Waah, I face discrimination for being a Republican... "

Douche bag. I suspect, as his college professor tried to explain over Hannity's interruptive whining and mugging, that he recieved the grade because that was the best his school work could generate. (The professor said he wished he could have given him a lower grade.)

How does a guy with such a big head and a pathetic nostomania of the dreadful 80s ever get laid? (This is not a reference to Psaur)

Even more pathetic than Hannity's show and notions, is the fact that anyone (me) even acknowledges him. He is a dinosaur, indeed. But still walking the earth. More like the alligator, ancestor of the saurians. With that gargantuan reptilian head.

A disgrace to Irishmen everywhere!

Absolute bollix!

Oh yeah, that GBV line. It's:

"The best defense is belligerence." The armor of the ignorant.

Did I Mention The Feebs?

No, but Seattle Weekly did in their announcement of the opening film of the STIFF Film Festival on June 2. The film, One Night in Portland, features the music of The Feebs, and received the "Most Kickass" award in the festival.

And be sure to visit The Feebs on My Space now! Report to Paneltown, you jackanapes!

The Fall of Troy

Watch the Trojan Nuclear Plant Cooling Tower Implosion in slow-motion here. Located on the Columbia River in Ranier, OR, the tower, owned by Portland General Electric, was part of the first and only nuclear power plant in Oregon. After closing in 1993, it has slowly been decommissioned. Complete decommission is expected by 2024. I'd seen the iconic tower a bunch of times driving on 84. Now I'll see more of the sky.

Anyway, they blowed it up real good yesterday.

Ich Bein Ein Theatergoer!

I saw this play last week (in fact I'm seeing it again tomorrow night). It was as brilliant as the review below explains. Compelling and dignified. Modest but certain in its revelations. Well cast, with an appropriately spartan stage design.

The lighting was indeed "ambitious and sophisticated in execution."

Plus, I've got a thing for the Assistant Stage Manager...

Storytelling, cast excel in play about the Lindbergh trial

by Ron Cowan
Statesman Journal
May 15, 2006

By now, cases such as the Lindbergh kidnapping trial of the 1930s seem quite familiar: media overkill, celebrities galore, a lackluster judiciary and expert witnesses by the truckload.

But the subject of John Logan's "Hauptmann," now at Salem Repertory Theatre, still takes on mythic proportions, pitting the anguish of an iconic American family against the fate of a befuddled German immigrant.

Logan, better known for writing films such as "Gladiator" and "The Last Samurai," throws in some allusions to the contrary but pretty much comes down on the side of the defendant, Bruno Richard Hauptmann (Jason Haines). Hauptmann virtually was defenseless against the world of Charles and Anne Morrow Lindbergh and a $1 million prosecution case.

Tautly directed by David Janoviak, with a flair for the dramatic, this is nonetheless involving entertainment, rich with the tapestry of a different era and an almost mythic mix of characters and events.

Did he or didn't he do it? It's never quite certain, though Hauptmann was found in possession of $14,000 of the $50,000 ransom for the baby and later found dead, and the prosecution had both compelling and improbable evidence.

What is more intriguing here is the touching of two distinctly different worlds, the wealth and celebrity of the Lindberghs and the impoverished, troubled life of the immigrant, automatically doubted when questions of guilt and innocence are raised.

Tormented by the police and without adequate legal support (having only an overwhelmed lawyer and $4,000 to mount a case), Hauptmann is little more than an observer hoping for the best and proclaiming his innocence to the end.

One of this play's strengths is its unconventional format, opening just before Hauptmann's execution in 1936 and flashing back to tell the story of the characters and the kidnapping, setting the scene, and then progressing through the drama of the trial.

Other than Haines, cast members play several roles, stepping in and out of characters as the play goes back and forth in time.

Haines is a profoundly affecting figure as Hauptmann, a bewildered and sympathetic man played with a German accent. He addresses the audience directly and participates in the action, letting us know he is telling his story so it can't happen again.

Another strong performer is Thomas Nabhan, particularly in the role of the determined prosecutor in the trial sequence, relentlessly berating poor Hauptmann and guiding his sometimes suspicious experts.

Peter Armetta, who plays a variety of expert witnesses and the odd Dr. John Condon, who inserted himself into the case as a go-between with the kidnappers, is particularly versatile at changing characters.

The excellent cast includes Susan Coromel, Josiah Bania, Tim Jaeger and Dawnie Drebin, all of whom elicit telling details in a variety of characters.

The set by Scott Grim, a gray courtroom/jail setting, does a lot with a little, and his lighting, using an expanded lighting grid, is ambitious and sophisticated in execution. Rebecca Turk's costumes suggest the era, without overdoing the nostalgia.

"Hauptmann" is not lighthearted fare, which has given SRT its greatest success so far, but it is the measure of a professional company that is willing to challenge and reward an audience with edgy and uncompromising theater.

MUSIC TO LISTEN TO WHILE DRIVING IN A HYUNDAI ON A SUNNY SUMMER DAY

I wrote this about three years ago for my local newspaper's "Summer Fun" section. The title says it all. Maybe I should have stopped with the title, but I decided to write the whole article anyway. Earlier this month I committed the list to CD -- I think it reads better than it plays (I forgot "Blue Train" clocked in at almost 11 minutes)!


MY TOP TEN SUMMER SONGS:

1. “California Girls” by The Beach Boys
2. “Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison
3. “Dancing in the Streets” by Martha and the…

(Snore…) Splash! Oh, sorry, I think I dozed off into my mimosa! Can you imagine another boring list of the same sorry, played-out summer songs? I wouldn’t do that to you. Well, maybe I would if I needed some quick cash. But I wouldn’t do it to myself.

So I’ve decided to compile a list of songs with the word “summer” in the title.


MY TOP TEN “SUMMER” SONGS:

1. “Summer in the City” by The Lovin’ Spoonful
2. “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley
3. “Summer Wind” by Frank Sinatra…

No, no, I’m joking. Anyone with access to the Internet could dredge up an equally banal roster. If I were to seriously write a list of this nature, I’d introduce songs perhaps mildly unfamiliar to the general populace:


MY REAL TOP TEN “SUMMER” SONGS:

1. “That Summer Feeling” by Jonathan Richman
2. “The Other Side of Summer” by Elvis Costello
3. “Shadowy Summer” by The Frustrations
4. “Summer in Siam” by The Pogues
5. “Long Hot Summer” by The Style Council
…and five other super cool hits for those hot summer nights!

OK, maybe that wasn’t all that exciting either. Which is why my Top Ten Summer Songs will instead exhibit those tunes I prefer to listen to in the summer. More to the point, while driving with the window down as my wintry pale hand bangs out an accompanying beat against the unwashed door of my car. Some songs, you will find, indeed have nothing to do with summer in content; a few, I imagine, you will be unfamiliar with (both song and artist); one or two you may never need to hear again. For example, Song #1: Like a Rolling Stone, which plays from 5 to 8 times a day on any given “classic” rock station. (Startlingly, when discussing my list with a contemporary, she queried, “’Like a Rolling Stone?’ How does that go?” My mimosa shot out of my incredulous fingers. “How does that go?” To me, that’s like a third-grade school teacher saying, “The Pledge of what?” Of course, I’m a bit of a “rock snob”, as they say. Oh yeah, and an incredible nerd. On with the list!)


MY TOP TEN SUMMER DAY DRIVING SONGS (with Author’s Commentary):

1. “Like a Rolling Stone” by Bob Dylan
This song has always signaled the unmuzzling of the dog days of summer for me. “How does it feel?” Liberating!

2. “Even a Dog Can Shake Hands” by Warren Zevon
Bang! The ramp light goes green. Let’s see how this baby does on the open road. Fueled by the acerbic wit of Zevon’s delivery and former R.E.M. drummer Bill Berry’s driving bellowing backbeat, the song propels me beyond the mph capacity of Black Bolt (the moniker of my sweet ride). I keep it at 55, but my mind is going, like, I don’t know, 65-70.

3. “Desiree” by Laura Nyro and Labelle
After Zevon gets me off the ground, Nyro holds me there with this ethereal gem polished by vibes and unpronounced piano and clocking in at a perfect 1:52. A summer breeze captured on analog.

4. “Sweet Thing” by The Waterboys
From their masterpiece Fisherman’s Blues, this brilliant reworking of Van Morrison’s original taps my eardrums like a twister, throwing sunlight and dark clouds in my path as I drive on deep into the day.

5. “Motor Away” by Guided By Voices
Dayton, Ohio’s Godfathers of Lo-Fi Rock blow out the windows for you with this paean to the dark American desire to get away, thus sparing you the time-consuming effort of rolling them down yourself, especially when you’ve forfeited power windows for a lower sticker price.

6. “Blue Train” by John Coltrane
Yeah, I know, almost every earnest yet unschooled fan of jazz quickly bulks up their heretofore rock-heavy music library with collections by Miles, Monk, Mingus and Coltrane. I was no exception. “Blue Train”, from his only formal collection of songs for the venerable jazz label, Blue Note, showed me the ability of an instrumental to conjure up such vivid imagery. Maybe I like it too because the main lick reminds me of the horn part in “Vehicle” by The Ides of March. Do do do do doo…

7. “Brandy” by Looking Glass
…though I thought King Harvest sang this, but their song is “Dancing in the Moonlight”, which I thought was sung by Sugarloaf, but they sang…oh, forget it. I sound like Sunday morning radio. Anyway, “My life, my love and my lady…” may not be the sea, but I’m quickly approaching the coast.

8. “Does This Bus Stop at 82nd Street?” by Bruce Springsteen
The wild poetry of his debut album finds its surest footing on this exhaust-filled noisy drive through a hot summer day. “Senorita, Spanish Rose, wipes her eyes and blows her nose…” Honk, honk!

9. “Trouble’s Braids” by Tom Waits
Closer to the ocean we drive. A voice like wet gravel under the rain-heavy eaves. African talking drum, parade bass drum and acoustic bass bouncing in my ears. Through farm and forest, past llama and Labrador. How did this quiet summer drive become a mad dash to the edge of America? I only went out for a smoothie!

What will be the 10th song? Are you anxious to know? Are you even reading this anymore? No one would blame you. You’re probably down by the pool sipping on a peach iced tea and partially tanning in the lukewarm Oregon sun. For anyone still interested, here’s the last song:

10. “Summer in the City” by The Lovin’ Spoonful
Look at me. Some kinda hypocrite, right! I practically mocked anyone who would put this song on a list. So, what do I care? I love it! Those menacing yet hopeful opening chords exploding into the hot concrete noon of New York City. The thirst for open fire hydrants through the thick sheets of humidity until…SALVATION! The fresh air and cool blue lakes of the country; the shade and shadow only found in the city at night.

I have driven down the wide urban streets and rolled over the dusty backroads. Where is summer? I see the ocean before me. I see my home in the rear view mirror. In the expanse lives summer. I see it in the hills and the backyards. I smell it in the cut grass and barbecues. I hear it in this music. I hear it in your voice.

Gimme a Minute to Think of Something...

For the love of god! Nikki Sudden died a few weeks ago! One of my all-time favorites and I had to hear about it from Rolling F-ing Stone!

Also, my mind has been lost in fairer thoughts...

Plus I'm finally reading The Davinci Code. I'm hooked. And I don't care that the writing's not f-ing Faulkner -- it's goddamn compelling!

And that completes the telling of the story of Passover.

Shaboo Shabat!

Boil the silverware! It's Pesach! Let's do a Partial Hallel -- my wine glass is empty! Then we'll all point at the roasted shank bone!

Watch and enjoy this while I look for the afikoman!

Over Their Pointy Heads

I'm getting tired of getting frustrated and angry with the government for their alternating bouts of impotence then malice towards their citizens. The ideals of government service never seem to be exhibited out of a grade school classroom. The Federal Government is the valhalla of vicious opportunists. And that's it!

I said that's it! Those motherfuckers...

Ah, but that was the old me. The dope. The rube. We can't find justice in this world or peace in our time through the obstructions of world governments.

The People must reach out to the People. Nation to nation. Citizen to citizen. Worker to worker.

There's talk of a war with Iran. Jesus fucking Christ! Nobody needs that. It sure as shit won't solve any bullshit problems the governments have been dreaming up.

It'll just kill us all.

Iran, the country (not their government, it would appear) is on the verge of becoming a hip place. The youth of Iran, I hear, are interested in what's been dubbed "western culture" (that's not cowboys and indians, but rather, the world you and I live in). The embrace of western ideals in no way means the death of eastern principles. "Western culture" I consider (despite my bias) the culture of progress, of foresight, of perhaps even world peace, through the opportunities of open and highly-accessible communication.

I mean, if we all start blogging, for instance (although god forbid), that doesn't disallow the practice of Islam or Buddhism or Hinduism. Most of the "western world" practices Christianity, which is just as archaic as others religions, but it doesn't stop anyone from texting a frowny face to a bored co-worker.

I don't know. I just think we should ignore our governments when they try to oppress us with false fears and when they try to fool us or terrorize us into hating the rest of the world.

Because there is no "rest of the world" anymore. There's "the world." And we're all on it. And the governments' answer to disagreements and misunderstandings is to blow the shit out of "them."

And since their "them" is us, we're all "them." So we're all "us." (Try not to follow my "logic" too closely -- you know what I fucking mean!)

What I'm trying to say is that the whole world should just get together to talk about last night's episode of "The Office."

This world needs a common watercooler. And shit.

And no, I'm not drunk!