Brad The Scribe (and Snoop)

Bigfoot - Truth vs. Reality in the Pacific Northwest

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 15:01:00 +0000

An article published in The Source Weekly in Oregon, this is the result of my bigfoot expedition.

The Devil of Deschutes – Tracking Bigfoot in Our Backwoods

by Brad Lockwood

The hum of 97 fades as the lichen spreads, forest thickens, trees spray-painted for clearing and empty beer cans sparse now; lava rocks, caves, outcroppings and manzanita brush limiting sight to a few hundred feet. Here Kelly finds a hunk of vertebrae measuring around seven inches, other remains scattered elsewhere and nowhere to be found. So too are we, it’s easy to get lost here, northwest of Lava Butte, where cousins heard – and felt – something stalking them a few years back, just out of sight but blatant, territorial, hair along necks standing at attention until they fled.

Up ahead, Bob, a Newfoundland with a penchant for biting before befriending, halts and looks off into the distance, towards Green Mountain. He senses it too. His owner Kelly saw something when she was young, driving through northern California over a bridge – a big hairy creature beside the stream below. It was decades ago and only a split second, but she remembers it vividly. Mentioning it to her younger brother recently though, his memory has a homeless person in a heavy jacket. Still she knows what she saw.

We leave soon after, Bob strangely eager to get back into the car; he’s always up for a hike but not here, no thanks. Maybe with the light snowfall we can make it up to the epicenter of sightings in Deschutes County, a place where Bob definitely won’t go – To Todd Lake and the aptly named neighbors Devils Lake and Devils Hill. Devil is a Native designation for an inhospitable place, inhabited by “a race of beings of a different species, who are cannibals, and whom they hold in great dread.” as told by Paul Kane. Mentioned as an aside in his collection of sketches of and conversations with Native Americans, Kane (1810-1871) “the wandering artist” made Marco Polo look lazy, traveling and painting Natives from the Niagara to the Columbia, and even capturing St. Helens during an active period in 1840. In Washington State alone, where a giant, hairy species has been sighted most often in America, there are no less than ten lakes and hills named Devil.

Deschutes County also has distinction in the search for Sasquatch (meaning “wild man” in Coast Salish Indian, and just one of over 60 terms for the creature) or Bigfoot (the over-simplified American calling, based on big feet found in Northern California). At Todd Lake in 1942, and Three Sisters Wilderness in the 1950s, two of the most important sightings of Sasquatch occurred – One of the earliest and most credible, as well as yet another dubious snapshot and story that continues to confound any serious study of the elusive creature.

As told, in 1942 Don Hunter and his wife were driving past Todd Lake when they saw a “tall figure” in a meadow. When they got out of the car, the figure walked away into the woods on two legs. Not a bear and not so remarkable, other than the fact that Hunter was believable, as the head of the University of Oregon’s Audio Visual Department. Both Hunters saw the figure walk on two legs, and both spoke out; Don later teamed-up with Rene Dahinden to write a book, Sasquatch/Bigfoot: The Hunt for North America’s Incredible Creature, published in 1973 then reissued in 1993.

What Zack Hamilton saw – and captured on film – only miles away in the Three Sisters Wilderness, is another matter entirely. He was supposedly stalked by a creature for a while, took a compelling picture of it, then dropped off the film to be developed – But never returned to pick it up. As the story goes, the photo developer saw the picture of Sasquatch first then shared it with others, which sparked speculation. Yet the question must be asked: If you were stalked by a giant creature and managed to take a picture of it – and survived! Wouldn’t you at least make sure you picked up the developed film?

One of the earliest credible sightings combined with another less so, Deschutes County continues to be a hotspot for Sasquatch sightings; only exceeded Clackamas and Josephine Counties, northwest and southwest. Mostly focused on Todd Lake (with Devils Lake and Hill nearby), Three Sisters, Lava Butte and Paulina Peak, east of La Pine, the frequency of sightings is rather remarkable – 1996 had three different (documented) sightings in these areas. Given the discomfort in coming forward, especially regarding an unknown creature and being associated with a rather frenetic breed of believers, innumerable other sightings go unreported. Meanwhile the most recent was in Warm Springs in 2005, with tracks and hairs found, which were later tested and shown to be bear.

Don’t expect any sightings in downtown Bend: For Sasquatch one must look west, north and south. Sightings decline in-line with the drop in rainfall, making the high desert unsuitable and the Cascades ideal. One-third of all Sasquatch sightings in America come from three states: California, Oregon and Washington – Once plotted on a map, they draw a straight line, north to south. A distinct path from British Columbia, through Washington’s Gifford Pinchot National Forest (and Skamania County – the only county in America to declare killing a Sasquatch a felony), over the Columbia River into the Mount Hood and Willamette National Forests, spreading throughout Mounts Jefferson and Washington and Three Sisters Wildernesses. The Deschutes National Forest is over 1.6 million acres, add to that Mt. Hood (1.067 million acres), Willamette (1.686), Umatilla (1.094) and Wallowa-Whitman National Forest (2.261), there are nearly eight million interconnected acres. Only the random road or trail to avoid, the Cascades offer a super-highway for the any creature, human or unknown.

One other natural anomaly makes our region ideal for the elusive: lava caves. Ever since Yeti sightings and stories emerged from the Himalayas, believers and pursuers have posited that the creature prefers mountaintops. However, such speculation hinders basic sustenance; what would a giant creature eat? In America at least, the answer may be huckleberries and the occasional animal for protein. Foraging for food and living in lava caves, the Cascades both sustain and hide myriad species.

Not for long, though. Sprawling developments and exurbs are trespassing on fragile ecosystems. Even in Skamania County, Washington, where the most Sasquatch sightings in America have been reported – tantalizingly grouped near Big Lava Bed, surrounded by Big and Little Huckleberry Mountains, and extending to Mounts Adams and St. Helens. General Moly Inc. has applied to commence mining operations twelve miles (as the crow flies) northeast of the Mount St. Helens crater, encompassing 900 acres running from the southern face of Goat Mountain to the headwaters of the Green River. Speculative and controversial, instead of the pursuing a standard prospecting agreement General Moly Inc. is seeking instead to lease the land and its contents for up to 20 years. If approved, the operation will be limited to core samples and drafting more definite proposals, which will have to again be approved by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) before any ore may be removed or new agreement reached.

“They’ve done their homework.” afforded Eric Hoffman, whose job at BLM in Portland is to accumulate and analyze the current public comment phase of the process. “In these neck of the woods we see very few hard-rock applications. From what we know about the deposit, it’s a result of hydro-thermal water activity from the crust and mantle – Basically the deposit is a big donut on the south face of Goat Mountain.”

When asked if the ongoing public comment period has raised any concerns about protecting the “big hairy creatures that may inhabit that area” (my words) Hoffman laughed, “Sasquatch? No, none. The majority of comments are about protecting the headwaters of the Green River.”

Interestingly, in addition to Zack Hamilton’s peculiar photo and story from Three Sisters, Mount St. Helens offers one of the earliest hoaxes. In 1924, near the lava tubes along the southeast side of Mount St. Helens, miners were attacked by “giant hairy apes” flinging rocks, forcing them to flee. Involving multiple witnesses, the story drew a firestorm of speculation and is often retold, giving the area the nickname “Ape Canyon” and making St. Helens a hotbed for sightings since. What is rarely retold is that several youths confessed to the attack a half-century later.

Sadly, second-hand stories, poorly translated/remembered Native lore, conspiracy theories, hoaxes and ancillary events (UFO sightings and abductions especially) make believing in Bigfoot akin to marrying into an inbred clan. The baggage is heavy - peers versus possible relations or competitors suspect - further complicated by the most famous Bigfoot hoax.

Not to waste more ink on this particular scam, but Roger Patterson’s supposed filming of a big, dark creature near Eureka in Northern California in 1967 was the spark that Bigfoot sightings needed. Similar to the spike in UFO sightings after the Roswell, New Mexico, incident, Americans suddenly knew what to look for – Or at least report. Multiple confessions (one deathbed) later, we now know who wore the (stolen) ape costume. Still, Bigfoot believers continue to point to Patterson’s few seconds of footage (shot on a stolen camera – see a trend?) as proof. For “the inside story” one need only skim "The Making of Bigfoot" by Greg Long to learn how malevolent (and profitable) Patterson’s hoax truly was.

Maybe more vexing is the reality that prior to Patterson’s footage there were hardly 200 documented sightings of a large, hairy creature in North America – with 120 of those in British Columbia – according to John A. Keel. Keel has made a career of documenting mysterious beings and events, typified by his best-selling book The Mothman Prophecies, which was recently made into a film starring Richard Gere. Predictably, since Patterson’s footage appeared the number of Sasquatch sightings has skyrocketed, with Anthropology Professor at Washington State University Grover Krantz estimating a quarter of a million “events.”

An AOL poll of a quarter-million Americans in 2005 found 60% believe in Bigfoot, which is just shy of a Gallup Poll showing three-quarters of Americans believing in some form of the paranormal, which is just shy of a Harris Poll showing 79% believe in God. To his credit, Krantz (who recently died) put his academic credentials and reputation on the line for science, positing that Sasquatch is actually a known animal, the great ape Gigantopithecus that went extinct in Asia some 300,000 years ago. No skeletons of Gigantopithecus have ever been found in the Americas, yet this lack of any evidence doesn’t deter believers.

Or Krantz; still, the professor’s devotion didn’t necessarily extend to fully believing in his fellow believers. In his book Big Footprints, Krantz categorized those who pursue the creature as follows: Hardcore Hunters; Novices; Tranquilizers; Recorders; Professionals. Five distinct groups, among which Krantz didn’t include himself as a scientist and scholar, perhaps because his academic standing took a thrashing due to his outspokenness on the subject. And, because scientists avoid Sasquatch, virtually anyone can become an “expert” – But, in addition to professors, the ones with the most to lose in pursuing Sasquatch are the professionals.

Consider this: The day a Bigfoot/Sasquatch/Giant Biped/Primate/Hominoid is trapped/shot/tranquilized/hit by a car or remains stumbled upon, the “professional” pursuer is out of business. It’s a lucrative business too; while hardcore hunters, novices, tranquilizers and recorders usually use their own money – or beg from others to fund their next expedition – professionals have made the unknown into an industry. Interestingly, of those quarter-million Americans polled by AOL (with 60% believing in Bigfoot) 88% thought Bigfoot scholars “should be fired.” Grover Krantz included, perhaps professionals deserve disrespect.

So what about those who experience sightings? “I have no reason to disbelieve her.” offered one local woman I met who shared a friend’s sighting story. A schoolbus driver in Medford, her friend slammed on the brakes one afternoon to avoid hitting a giant, hairy creature standing in the middle of the road. Hustling the kids back on the bus, she’ll never forget the experience – Yet told select few. Same with my friend Kelly; I trust her – and her dog Bob’s instincts – especially because she remembers the northern California sighting clearly but doesn’t jump into rants about Sasquatch and UFOs. She merely saw something she couldn’t fully explain.

Nor can I: The explosion in sightings or the Sasquatch industry that has emerged in tandem. Over the course of two weeks I’ve covered hundreds of miles and dozens of documented sightings, from Portland to La Pine, and I still don’t know what to think. Interestingly, after a bar patron told the story of a Bigfoot trying to break into his aunt’s house near Benton, I conferred with a friend and realized that I’d heard him simply retelling the tale but my friend heard him being dismissive. It didn’t help that the only eyewitness (as opposed to the standard second-hand) story we heard was from a stripper near Scappoose, who recalled her experience on stage, leaning over and fondling herself, saying, “It was north of Orlando --- I saw a UFO in ’96!”

I want to believe but knowledge always gets in the way. I recently completed my next book about mankind’s belief in giants over time, finding that overzealous humans invariably undermine serious study, and regularly destroy the very evidence that may prove their point. Native lore often hurts as much as it helps: Sasquatch is a paranormal being, capable of hypnotizing animals and humans (perhaps explaining why many with rifles aimed and ready can’t pull the trigger), disappearing when in danger and often stealing women for sex. Curiously, British Columbia Natives also tell of Dzonoqua (one of many names) the “wild woman” who steals babies. Whether warning tales to keep a family close or something else, it is critical that, unlike Europeans, Natives had no memory of primates. To them, Sasquatch isn’t a “giant ape” but rather a “wild man” – and depicted as such in drawings and stories.

Memories are strange like that. Kelly saw Sasquatch while her brother saw a homeless man in a heavy jacket; I heard a convincing tale while my friend heard a dismissive one. Add to that the tendency to blanket Sasquatch with idealized attributes – compassion, peacefulness, solitary survival – and you have a rather enviable entity. Yet few exhibit or add another attribute maybe more elusive than Sasquatch itself: Patience.

If you were a creature that has existed in parallel with man for hundreds of millennia, witnessing the devastation and war wrought by human hubris, wouldn’t you avoid us as well? Seeing your habitations slashed and burned for strip-malls and McMansions, pristine forests littered with beer cans and waste, wouldn’t you wait it out? Homo Sapiens have dominated Earth for only a few thousand years, hardly a second in the sweeping hand of time, yet murdering one another and razing the environment necessary for survival. Wouldn’t your best defense be patience? Eventually they’ll kill themselves off, leaving the Earth to those who remain, creatures large and small, known and unknown.

One Year After Losing Norman Mailer, Coffee with John Buffalo

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 17:41:00 +0000

Appearing this week in The Brooklyn Daily Eagle is my meeting with John Buffalo Mailer.

John Buffalo Mailer: A Brooklyn Jew with Cowboys in Arkansas
by Brad Lockwood (edit@brooklyneagle.net), published online 11-14-2008
www.brooklyneagle.com/categories/category.php?category_id=27&id=24556

By Brad Lockwood
It’s always an unnerving moment: Waiting to meet someone for the first time, wondering if you’ll recognize each other, or annoy a complete stranger. But John Buffalo Mailer is unmistakable, crossing Court Street and offering a handshake outside Le Petit Cafe in Carroll Gardens. He needs a coffee; his girlfriend, Peri Lyons, performed her cabaret-style show “Famous in France” last night and it was a late one. So we take a seat inside and are soon talking like old friends.

Intentionally, my first question is about his one-year stint as editor of High Times magazine. “What I remember of it…” he replies with a laugh. And then the prodigious Mailer mind emerges, with that serious stare. “It’s an important brand name. When it started in ‘74, it was time for another revolutionary paper.”

Offering the unique history of High Times, John says how one of its founders, Richard Stratton, was arrested and federal officials made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: “Give us [Hunter S.] Thompson and [Norman] Mailer and you can walk...” Stratton did refuse, was sentenced to 25 years, and won parole after eight. In 2004, Stratton asked John Buffalo Mailer to serve as executive editor of High Times. The impact was immediate—the old stoner magazine took on a fresh new look and was attracting excellent writers. “When we took the helm it had become mostly a grower’s magazine, which is okay. But we wanted to bring it back to being a place where Pulitzer Prize-winning journalists could write the stories they wanted to with no corporate media restrictions.”

A Mailer leading the required reading for marijuana aficionados was both a publicity coup and controversial, and John is reflective of his experience. “My theory on why marijuana is still illegal is that it would make production of industrial hemp in the U.S. a certainty, and hemp is a direct competitor to timber, cotton and oil. You can run a diesel car on hemp oil.

It has always been those particular industries that have been the biggest advocates for keeping it down.” With a wry grin, he adds, “There was a perverse pleasure in knowing the Feds had a subscription, and that somewhere, each month, one or two agents were most likely earning their pay while reading our rag, keeping a loose eye out for un-American material.”

Of his father’s infamous early drug use, John gives rare insight into Norman Mailer, and why he later quit: “When your brain is so finely tuned, drugs effect you differently. One puff wasn’t worth losing three days of work to him.”

It has been a year since Norman Mailer died, and John Buffalo is his youngest child. His mother, Norris Church Mailer, generously opened her Brooklyn Heights home to us recently, and the extraordinary literary history of this one family continues despite the loss of the patriarch. Norris is an acclaimed novelist, now completing a memoir, and most of the Mailer children are involved in the arts. John Buffalo’s résumé includes acting, directing, editing, producing and, of course, writing.

“I got published when I was a senior in college in a humble but classy publication called The Reading Room. But it was huge to me,” he remembers, while also addressing how his famous surname has affected his career.

“I try to focus on the work and not think about that any more than is psychologically necessary for my balance of mind. I’m incredibly proud of the legacy I come from—he’s half of me and there is no one in the world I would trade fathers with. No one. But being Norman Mailer’s son also forces you to step it up if you want to try to make a career in the arts. Aside from raised expectations, some justified, others not, one is left with the feeling that to publish or perform a piece that is not at a certain level of artistic integrity would be doing a disservice to the legacy. My hope is that I am never placed in a position of having to put work out there that I do not believe is up to that level. So, in that way, it keeps you honest.”

Perhaps the greatest praise John received was from his father. “The first time he said I was good enough, I believed him. This was of course after he had ripped me a new one on several stories I had shown him leading up to this first one he liked.”

Over a half-century between father and son, John describes their time together as “almost a grandfather relationship, where I could talk to him about anything. There was no ego battle between us, as there often is between fathers and sons of closer generations. The only drawback was I didn’t have him around long enough. I was aware of his mortality from a young age. But truly, no matter how long he lived, none of us could ever have gotten enough of him.”

Norman and John Buffalo Mailer co-authored the novel The Big Empty, released in 2005, and the response from critics was predictable. Anything written by Norman Mailer receives either critical praise or scorn, but some critics seemed to hope for a falling out between the father and son—speculation that John found rather surreal. “With The Big Empty people were looking for a fight that just wasn’t there. That book was my attempt to make his thoughts accessible to our generation. I like to think that, at least in some places, we managed to pull that off.”

Noting the strange mix of characters his father surrounded himself with, growing up around literary elites and convicted criminals, John is equally at ease with his father’s New York and his mother’s rural roots. John Buffalo Mailer exudes a wise modesty well beyond his thirty years. “I know people in all places. I’m a Brooklyn Jew with cowboy roots in Arkansas. I take a decent amount of pride in the feeling that there is not a bar in this country that I couldn’t feel comfortable in.”

Him mentioning Arkansas is to honor the influence of his mother, especially when speaking of growing up as a Mailer. “It was pretty groovy. I had a utopian childhood. My dad was 55 when I was born and ready to settle down—settling down for Norman Mailer, at least. I had eight older brothers and sisters, and I’d say we’re probably the closest family I know. And the credit goes entirely to my mom.”

On the subject of Brooklyn now being touted as the Mecca for writers, he nods approvingly and says, “Brooklyn, there’s an extraordinary tradition for writers here. A certain ‘Fuggetaboutit!’ attitude that allows us to write tough, ballsy stuff while maintaining a certain level of sweetness and understanding. A lot of the writers who come from Brooklyn are sensitive tough guys.”

Former editor of High Times, and presently a contributing editor for Stop Smiling magazine, as well as the newly launched Tar magazine—in addition to being a playwright, actor, producer and screenwriter—John Buffalo Mailer’s range may be his hallmark. “I love screenwriting. It’s the easiest form of writing. I love the mode, but to get a movie made with something to say isn’t automatic these days… I feel like movies are the last venue where you can still hold an audience’s attention for two hours.”

He’s well grounded yet experimental, and recalls his father’s foundation in literature yet fickle interest in Hollywood and other arts. “He hit it at 25 and was looking for ways to be anything but a writer. He would say he had a guardian angel watching over him, to make sure whatever else he did failed, to remind him, ‘Look, dummy, you’re here to write novels!’”

In addition to his screenplay, and wanting to “write a play that my buddies from Coney Island and top theatre critics can enjoy together,” John also has an article in the latest edition of Playboy. “New Orleans through the eyes of strippers” is how he describes it, and an attempt to take a different look at the city.

“It’s a favorable portrait; the city is 80 percent back—the media has given a very negative view, as if you step off the plane and are greeted with gun shots. It’s just not like that.” When asked why he’s focusing on strippers for his article, John explains, “Well, it is Playboy for one. And, when I was down there, I found the girls and other people in the service industry were the ones who understood the hurting and trying to rebuild they’re the real residents. It’s a fascinating lens: How are the locals doing? I use the term ‘strippers’ loosely; it’s the bartenders and service workers. New Orleans, if we let that city die, I’m really concerned for the soul of our country.”

Of his many titles, there’s one that he doesn’t mention—and why our waitress has been so attentive. In 2002 People Magazine named John Buffalo Mailer one of the “Sexiest Men Alive.” He blushed a bit when I brought it up, then described his reaction: “When it was coming out I was 24 and drove across the country to cash in on it.” He was heading to Hollywood, suddenly one of the “Sexiest Men Alive” with several acting auditions scheduled.

And then tragedy almost struck. A truck driver fell asleep, a car swerved to avoid him, a frantic moment behind the wheel, and John was spinning around the road narrowly dodging each of the oncoming cars as his vehicle skidded to the other side of the highway. As he describes it, “miraculously, a 15-car pile up didn’t happen that morning, and I don’t use that word lightly.” Shaken, he nearly turned back, but decided to continue. “I was in the middle of the country and friends were calling me on the east and west coasts telling me their reactions to seeing my picture in People—But I hadn’t seen it yet! I finally got to Needles, Calif., and bought three copies. As the cashier was ringing me up, she asked me, ‘Who do you know in here?’ Then her son, who was bagging my groceries, opened the magazine, looked at me, then read out loud, ‘John Buffalo Mailer.’ And I thought to myself, ‘Sh*t, man! I made it!’”

With a light laugh, he then admits those initial Hollywood auditions didn’t work out. When his mother was diagnosed with her second round of cancer, he took the job at High Times, and moved back to Brooklyn.

Somewhere, a guardian angel is watching as John Buffalo Mailer and I leave each other, as he heads home, back to work, to write.

Live From the Scene of the Crime

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 17:26:00 +0000

The bodies cover sidewalks; skulls crushed like post-Halloween pumpkins on concrete. The carnage is complete. Brooks Brothers suits soiled, orphaned Gucci loafers lay beside splayed feet – one sock has a hole at the heel, a sight as disturbing as today’s Dow Jones ticker.

We don’t know if they are Wall Street traders or Republicans, later autopsies and DNA testing for coke and STDs will confirm that much, but the mass suicides in New York this week have made distraught souls falling forty stories commonplace.

“Look. There’s another...” I said to the bum beside me, too numb by now to raise my voice.

“That’s Al from Derivatives.” the bum replied, “Yep, I know those triple-chins...”

Informing that he’s a former Lehman Brothers accountant the bum rifled pockets, “Al loved pastrami. See the mustard stains on his shirt?” I snatched his wallet, an AMEX and teens, no pictures of any wife. “I wonder if they’ve found his kiddie-porn yet...”

The economy of New York City is failing so rapidly that novelist Candace Bushnell may have to create a new character: Impoverished Panache. A sequel to “Sex in the City” has been announced yet its creator is suddenly speaking to her servants, asking pedestrians where this “subway-thingy” may be found.

“East Coast Elite” are frantically trying to make under $250K, to spare ourselves the taxes Obama promises. It isn’t easy; if you know anyone who needs money, please send them to New York. It’s a helluva deal: Rent at least a grand per hundred square feet, and the “recession special” at Gray’s Papaya for two hotdogs and a juice drink recently raised to $4.45. A pack of smokes is $9.67 and a movie $11.50; the steep expense of this city surely ensures everyone vast riches. Get here quick!

It’s so bad that Mayor Michael Bloomberg decreed a third term essential for our shared survival. Ignoring the fact that two separate voter referendums made two terms the limit (even “America’s Mayor” Rudy G. didn’t get an extension after 9-11) billionaire Bloomberg and the City Council have ensured themselves employment throughout this recession. “Freedom of choice” was their mantra while selling what Russia’s Vladimir Putin didn’t dare attempt.

I love New York. The way tourists stop in the middle of the sidewalk and gape upward, blocking busy locals, encouraging muggings and murder. Bodega cashiers charge for cigarettes and booze based on mood. The fall foliage and smell of urine mix and make us sentimental, wondering where else we can see a B-list star then step over a corpse on the same block. Lindsay Lohan and her butch are regularly seen on the 4-train. Uma Thurman lives across from me in Greenwich Village. But don’t approach her or even look too long; she had a stalker so her entourage includes five bodyguards – Three for her and two to keep her ex Ethan Hawke away. We are all grateful.

Gun sales are up 40% in 2008 nationwide but illegal in Gotham. So we’re sharpening sticks and carrying stones in case of attack from despondent Republicans and unemployed lobbyists. Red Bull and a half-cup of extra virgin olive oil make a fine ad hoc incendiary. Understanding that "small town America" has few minorities (because they are now the minority), this is how a conversation between different races goes in New York:

“I’m African-American.”

“No you aren’t. Fool! You’re from Jersey and late for a bar mitzvah.”

“So! Obama’s African-American!”

“True. His mother was from Kansas. His daddy hit that Jayhawk yum-yum, saw he made a son, said ‘See ya! I’ll be in Kenya...’”

“Don’t talk about our president-elect like that!”

“Sorry. Have fun at the bar mitzvah...”

“Shalom.”

David Foster Wallace (1962-2008)

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 13:16:00 +0000

an awful loss. self-inflicted, again, another writer too smart to not do such a thing... an ode to the man, the writer, the teacher.

"Foster Wallace"

by Brad Lockwood

He’s a very prolific author of undeniable
lexicon a scribe unemcumbered by punc-
tuation of average infinite context a writer
chaotic frenetic sporadic diatribes of life and
highly prolific hideous authors’ medals and awards and1

As if we haven’t waited long enough waiting
standing in line like authors2authors like a
Hewlett Packard inkjet on continuous feed
paper falls like his thoughts flow broom an
estuary of babble2

My head hurts, heart too, knees more so
like this 78lbs girl beside me
sliding a picturesque landscape postcard of
a rural rocky path down down pages flashing
lobster eyes lower still3

Some literate dork behind us keeps saying
we’re here to see Clay Aiken to guys
then the truth to women
We’re all sick of it and him but glad there’s
sound to ease the stillness4

1 What is unknown
2 Biblical reference noted
3 How low we may never know
4 You can relate.

Nice to be back again

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 13:53:00 +0000

After an 11 month sojourn in Oregon, it's lovely to set foot in my beloved Brooklyn again. Another novel completed and so many feature articles published in the past year (a few of which have been added to this site, with links to the originals - many thanks to the staff at The Source Weekly in Bend, Oregon, including Eric Flowers, Aaron the Publisher, and many more) 2008 is shaping up to be a remarkable year; including the Republic of Georgia being invaded by Putin, Karl Rove still unindicted, and the Obama/McCain match-up more focused on flag lapels and fearmongering than the issues.

Anyway, I'll try to keep this updated but can't promise anything; another book is the works so we'll see... The audio version of my first novel "Sellout" is doing ridiculously well at www.podiobooks.com/title/sellout Download a chapter and listen for yourself!

Oh, if you're as interested in other writers as me, visit www.brooklyneagle.com and search me - over 50 of Brooklyn's best writers have been documented and/or interviewed. It's a helluva town, let's just hope it doesn't devour me whole.

Obama's Oregon

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 13:44:00 +0000

Easily the most intense and interesting assignment over the past year was covering Barack Obama's swing through Oregon in May 2008. I mentioned RFK's last visit to the state, just prior to the tragedy in L.A., and many were outraged - And then, last week, a Florida man was arrested for having plans of his own...

The original story and images may be found at:

www.tsweekly.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=2822&Itemid=2

It’s 9am and the local press is anxious. It’s been 40 years since the last presidential candidate, Robert F. Kennedy, visited Central Oregon and Barack Obama will be here any minute. Gulping organic coffee and checking lenses, “Change We Can Believe In” badges pinned to our chests, the bran muffins go ignored.

Across the lot, PV Powered employees huddle together, a brisk wind keeping jackets zipped, overtime conversation close. They’re the first for Secret Service, electronic devices aside as the magic wand swipes over bodies. They enter, but we aren’t allowed: “Thank you, now stand over there – Again.”

And then the bus arrives – not Barack’s black world-tour barge but the traveling press. Reuters and NBC, bloggers, months into this morass and better equipped, CNN and ABC bring small stepladders, wear laminated badges reading “Fired Up! Ready to go!” and “Camp Pain 2008.” They sprint for the caffeine. The bran muffins still go untouched.

To my right is Jessica Slider, staring off at the three towers of the Old Mill, the Stars and Stripes swaying on high. Doing video stills and new media for the campaign since February 2007 and promoted to the plane only recently, “I feel good.” she replies when asked. Grateful that she’ll be home tomorrow, in Chicago for a well-deserved Mother’s Day off, she then she looks about nervously – as if her personal welfare isn’t approved for release. “I really shouldn’t be on the record.” she apologizes then disappears.

Moments later, I get the expected pat on the back, “Hi! Don’t I know you?”

“No.” Seeing the short, energetic man-child all too eager to know me. It’s Nick Shapiro, Oregon communications director for the Obama campaign. Jessica did the requisite handoff; Nick wants to be on the record.

“The Clinton campaign said that North Carolina would be a game-changer, and it was...” offers he, rapid-firing the official line, “After that this game has moved to Oregon – We’re 33 pledged delegates away. This is a race of change: The Future versus the Past. What you need to know, not what you want to hear.” Nick’s solid, I’m scribbling like it’s the Ten Commandments.

There’s a sudden excitement. “He’s five minutes out…” says someone and the Secret Service does final checks on the building, opening doors, closing them, one last walk around PV Powered. Bomb- and/or bong-sniffing German Shepherd panting in the shade. The black bus at last arrives.

Wait for it... Him: Don’t blink, in a flash Barack Obama is whisked inside.

Cameras click as CEO Gregg Patterson and President Glenn Harris welcome the Illinois Senator to PV Powered. Light blue and white striped shirt with dark slacks, Obama is remarkably at ease. Interested in solar inverters, PV Powered’s product line – A question, too distant to be heard, curiosity, then an explanation, demonstration, as select employees assemble and others peer through a sliding window into the main factory. His back to us, disregarding clicking cameras and digital recorders, he is here for them. One hand on a worker’s shoulder, the other gives a firm shake, “Thanks for the good work. I hope you vote for me.”

We’re merely snooping. Racing between bay doors as the hands-on tour inside continues, the talk among the traveling press is replete with rumor. That Hillary left a bunch of kids outside at an earlier Oregon event, cold and shivering during the photo-op. That the tone has changed, Obama is now focused on McCain but won’t dismiss Clinton. A loan to settle her campaign’s staggering $20 million debt (including over $11 million she has loaned herself) may be in the works. Maybe her as vice president, but Bill Richardson is being a good ally... Anything to soothe supporters and unify against McCain in November.

Reporters are a gossipy bunch, hearing the same speeches, real scoops rare, and Athena Jones is perhaps the most jaded. “Make sure you call it beautiful Bend!” she recommends, partly in jest, as another reporter sighs, “What else will he say? Solar power is bad?” A blogger for NBC, Athena left the Clinton campaign two weeks ago to join the Obama junket; her Blackberry screen is cracked and she recalls Brooklyn as home.

“It’s more relaxed.” is her perceived difference between the two campaigns. “There’s less spin here.”

We’re all tired of spin. Of one candidate being called unelectable when neither can close the deal. Deniable whispers about Obama being Muslim, even after his (Christian) Reverend’s uproar. Hillary’s “white supporters” unwilling to vote for the biracial Barack. Friday’s news that another of McCain’s lobbyist pals/staffers has been linked to another dubious land deal. Voters at the whim of the cycle, leaks, important issues usurped by ten-second clips... The message – why we should vote for or against this person – is too easily lost.

Then Barack Obama exits the building and steps to the podium. After thanking the managers and employees of PV Powered, and noting that “our microphone today is partially-powered by solar energy...” the Senator lauds that this “is truly a workshop of the future. Places like this are part of the reason that Oregon is such a leader on clean energy. And this is an election where we have a chance to finally have a President that shows that same kind of leadership.”

The door has been kicked open and an attack follows: On Cheney’s energy policy, two meetings with environmental groups and forty with energy companies and lobbyists, failed leadership over eight years, an unending war. Obama speaks for only a few minutes but his strategy through November is obvious:

A vote for McCain is a vote for another four years of Bush.

Any questions? The traveling press gets the first nod, and each tries to corner the candidate, hoping for a gaffe on an absurd question: Did Hamas endorse him? Is McCain’s connection to the Keating Five fair game? Who’s more patriotic? Will he attend church tomorrow? But Obama won’t bite; he instead focuses on the future, beating McCain foremost.

“I think it’s going to have to do with who has a plan to provide relief to people when it comes to their gas prices. Who has a real plan to make sure that everyone has health insurance? Who has a real plan to deal with college affordability? Who can help American families live out their dreams? And so, rather than an abstract set of questions about is he too liberal? Is he too conservative? How do voters handle an African-American, et cetera... I think this is going to be a very concrete contest around very specific plans for how we improve the lives of Americans and our vision for the future. And that’s the debate I’m going to welcome.”

Oregon’s ballot initiative process and medical marijuana get their due. “If we’re going to prescribe medical marijuana for patients, it should done by doctors and not something people casually say, ‘Hey, here, this might help...’ But I have no interest in seeing our Justice Department spend its limited time and resources challenging state laws the people of Oregon have thought through and ratified, rather than hunting terrorists or cracking down on those who are doing wrong to our fellow U.S. citizens.”

Counting the delegates of Florida and Michigan, Clinton’s candidacy, are still open questions. And then came mine: Given soaring gas and food prices, and projections that the corn harvest will be 7% lower than last year, at what point would he suspend the use of ethanol?

“I have been a champion of ethanol over the past. I come from a corn-growing state. And I’ve said before, and I continue to believe, that we must develop alternatives to fossil fuels.”

His answer isn’t surprising – Obama and all candidates cater to farmers, especially with Iowa the first caucus – but it was his stare that struck me, both as an alternative reporter and independent voter.

“What I’ve also said is that corn-based ethanol I see as a transitional technology. We have to shift to cellulosic ethanol using non-food sources to develop energy sources. I’ve proposed in my energy plan to significantly increase the investment in other strategies for alternative fuel: switch grass, wood chips and so forth.”

Eyes directly on mine, not looking away, engaging while answering; no subtle twitch, hand to face nor side to reveal any discomfort in his position.

“It is not clear to me that – and I don’t think it’s been definitely shown – that the use of ethanol is the biggest contributor to rising food prices. But the one thing I will say is if, at some point, we have to choose between making sure millions of people get adequate nutrition and energy policy, that I always want to make sure that people have enough to eat. And I think that’s both a moral and a strategic imperative for the United States.”

A fair answer. Yet unnerving delivery: The person running for the most important office in the world held my gaze throughout, intent, believing every word, whole and heartfelt. After eight years of George W. Bush playing the fool while his administration undermines the environment and basic human rights, injects religion and partisanship into inherently secular institutions, slights science, invades Iraq, squanders trillions of national treasure and international goodwill... Instead of making a joke or offering another fall guy (Libby, Tenet, Gonzales et al) Obama looks you in the eye.

It was then that the psychological damage of the past eight years became all too clear. Thoreau said it best: “I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face?”

Is Obama awake? He certainly believes what he says, and the message he has for America isn’t all rosy; there is work to be done, tax cuts and corporate gifts bygone. Even Obama later acknowledged that his $150 billion alternative energy initiative, touted as paying for itself through the selling of emission credits to polluters, may cost Americans more, as energy companies pass investment into cleaner technologies onto us. Still, when’s the last time a candidate asked for our help? Forty years or longer? Look what happened to them – How far will the establishment go to silence someone looking you in the eye and speaking the truth?

As the press conference ended and the candidate kneeled to pose with PV Powered’s employees for a picture, I still struggled with perception versus this person. Has he changed or have we? Obama was a rockstar months only ago, the fresh face that tens of thousands packed stadiums to see, the icon of the most people-powered campaign in history, with over 1.3 million individual donors and 45% of them giving $200 or less. In total, he’s raised around $240 million through March 2008, three times the amount raised by John McCain.

Still, several defeats later and momentum slowed by his “bitter” and other remarks by his Reverend coming home to roost, Obama stands at the precipice. Virtually tied with Hillary for superdelegates and around 150 total delegates away from the nomination after West Virginia, he’s been vetted and tested, toughened. Hillary still believes she has a chance. Though anyone running the tables by winning 75% of the total remaining votes (Oregon’s included) is a long shot. Barring catastrophe – caught shooting sea lions or kissing Louis Farrakhan – Barack Obama will be the Democratic nominee for president. And only then will the true toll of this extended race become clear.

Summit High School was the last stop for the Obama campaign’s latest swing through Oregon. “Living in America” by James Brown blasted in a gymnasium packed with Bendittes eager to see the candidate for the first time.

And so Obama entered to a standing ovation – the first of six. Shaking hands and seeming to float across the gym floor to the podium, grabbing the microphone and saying how nice it is “To be east of the mountains. You have some pretty real estate out here. I wanna stick around – Who’s gonna teach me fishing?”

The standing-room-only crowd ate it up. Skewering McCain as another four years of Bush within seconds and not mentioning his sole competitor for the Democratic nomination until the 11th minute, Obama spoke for 29 total before declaring:

“I can promise you this. If you give me the opportunity, when I’m president I will tell you what I think...I will always be honest with you about the challenges that we face. I will always listen to you, even when we disagree – Even Michelle and I disagree...”

Confidently striding around the stage, catching the eyes of hundreds – He’s here for them – Obama simply couldn’t help himself:

“But most importantly, I’m going to spend every single day in that White House waking up and thinking, ‘How can I make the lives of people in Bend, Oregon a little better?’”

When Clinton and McCain talk gas-tax holidays it’s pandering, when Obama says such things he’s being playful. A roar, another ovation, Bend is Obama’s to lose. He’s already out-raised Hillary 5-1 locally, and Democrats are outpacing Republicans in fundraising throughout Central Oregon.

The questions from the audience were standard, as were his answers. One on nuclear power, answered: “We don’t know how to store the waste, and safety concerns – terrorist attacks. Show me a way and I’ll consider it.” Another about counting Florida’s delegates, followed by why the United Nations is ineffective in addressing situations like Darfur – “Iraq has given U.S. intervention a bad name.” He then contrasted the cost of not working with others, given $20 billion for the First Gulf War and the second topping $600 billion.

A question about student loans was framed by the Obama couple’s $100,000-plus in loans after they graduated law school, offering Barack a chance to explain his proposal for $4,000 per student per year as a voucher, with community or Peace Corps service afterward as a condition. Ovation! The final question on free trade agreements was answered with the campaign adage “They’re good for Wall Street, but not so good for Main Street.” And, then, it was over.And, then, it was over.

“Signed, Sealed, Delivered,” boomed as Obama exited, shaking hands, signing his books, holding and kissing a newborn, taking a wide circle to ensure that everyone got a chance to see him. And he, them. Out the door with one last wave and off to the airport, back home for Mother’s Day, the reformer from Chicago, the Democratic Party’s presumptive nominee for President – Barring a backroom deal. Or catastrophe, like Bobby two weeks after he left Central Oregon 40 years ago.

"Armed In Oregon"

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 13:44:00 +0000

Originally appearing in The Source Weekly in Bend, Oregon, "Armed in Oregon" (aka "Pistol Whipped") received heated attention and many moans from the NRA.

To view the myriad comments, visit the original story at:

www.tsweekly.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3006&Itemid=66

You’ve just arrived at work, interested in coffee more than conversation, and a coworker enters, setting her purse down - BOOM! A gun explodes, bullet flies, nearly hitting you – Where are you? The sheriff’s office, where everyone is armed? A rural factory where busting-off a few rounds after work isn’t uncommon? No, you’re a nurse at St. Charles Medical Center and this actually happened a little over one month ago. No one was injured and the incident went unpublicized, but the nurse with the concealed handgun is no longer employed at the hospital. Everyone knows why.

She brought a ballistic umbrella in case of rain.
Others are doing the same and, at the Deschutes County Sheriff’s office, dozens of citizens are attending classes to exercise their 2nd Amendment Right. There’s another right that’s not being talked about, at least not in concealed carry classes, and that is the public’s right to know if your coworkers and neighbors are carrying a gun under their coat or in their handbag. It’s a pretty well-established right in other places where law enforcement folks acknowledge that information isn’t covered by exemptions to public records laws. But not in Oregon. Here sheriffs, including our own, are testing their right to withhold that information while at the same time dolling out permits by the dozen.

“What is the purpose of seeking a Concealed Handgun License?” asks Sergeant Dan Bilyeu, 50 years old, solidly built with short dark hair and friendly blue eyes; a handgun rests comfortably at his side. A few hands come up among the 35 or so attending the Concealed Handgun License (CHL) class Sergeant Bilyeu is leading.

“For myself, for personal protection,” answers a man in his late twenties. He is clean cut, wearing a blue polo and intense expression. “When I go camping with my family I want to take my gun along and not worry about always having it in view.”

The woman sitting down the table from me has platinum blonde hair, red acrylic nails and bracelets that jangle on her wrists as she offers, “I go riding in the mountains a lot, alone.”

A couple in their early-30s sits together in the front row; the male half speaks first, “To keep myself out of trouble.” He is wearing a thick plaid coat and a baseball hat that shields his eyes from where I sit, but his smile is unmistakable as he adds, “I carry my gun in my pickup and sometimes forget to have it in the open.” The female half of the couple nods then tenders, “Personal protection for me, I would rather be proactive than reactive, and I’ve been in situations where I felt threatened.” She is thin and strawberry blonde, wearing a turquoise top. As the class continues, three hours locked in the Deschutes County Sheriff’s office, these two will come to dominate the audience participation portion.

Skipping through several frames of his PowerPoint presentation, Sergeant Bilyeu comes to the “Exemptions” page. Clearly addressing the main demographic in the room – two long rows of Caucasian males in the rear – he makes it clear that a valid hunting or fishing license allows you to carry a concealed handgun as long as you are on your way to or from a sporting event. Pausing, he then jokes, “There’s a smell test associated with this exemption.”

Other exemptions include recreational vehicles (which are considered residences) and horses (as long as the handgun is in the saddlebag, not readily accessible) but a horse is not considered a vehicle. Also, hiding a handgun to avoid theft is not illegal. Subjectivity reigns, as reinforced by Sergeant Bilyeu: There is a dichotomy between the spirit and intent of the law. However subjective, Sergeant Bilyeu urges the class to comply with any reasonable requests that an officer may make.

This much is clear: Even if you have a CHL, you can’t carry a weapon into a Federal building, court, or post office. CHLs are state-issued, and Federal law trumps Oregon. “Concealed handgun licenses are flagged on your driver’s license,” Sergeant Bilyeu states, then stresses, “Does everyone understand this?”

In my mind, this is the turning point of the class. We are about to move from a factual presentation, conceal and carry law and exemptions, to a presentation of licensee rights. Reminiscent of 2nd Amendment entitlements, the one thing lacking is a reality check: Simply because one signed up and attended this class, is he or she proficient and responsible with his or her firearm? We’ll never know; three hours of class for $25, then $65 to apply for a CHL – but no written or shooting range test, hands-on demonstrations, nor real-life scenarios other than oral. $90 in total fees, a PowerPoint presentation, then a thorough criminal history check – That’s what is required to obtain a CHL in Deschutes County, Oregon.

“We’re not worried about the people that went through the formal training and jumped through the hoops. It’s the people that didn’t,” Sergeant Paul Garrison will tell me later.

Oregon is one of 36 “shall-issue” states, meaning that a CHL will be issued to an individual without discretion if this class is attended, fees paid, and prior felonies and other red flags (recent restraining orders etc.) aren’t found during the criminal background check. Among the majority of states, Oregon’s “shall-issue” status is at odds with nine other “may-issue” states that use discretion on a case-by-case basis before issuing a CHL. Only Wisconsin and Illinois don’t have any form of concealed-carry licensing, though Wisconsin allows “open carry” in most situations and Illinois in rural areas. The 2nd Amendment right to have a firearm is now being reaffirmed in our nation’s capital, with Washington D.C.’s 30-year ban overturned by the Supreme Court last week in a 5-4 decision. Meanwhile, Vermont is the most lax when it comes to carrying a gun, allowing residents and visitors to conceal whenever, wherever, for whatever reason. Yet Vermont is also consistently rated as one of the “safest sates” in the U.S, explaining why it is the poster-child for proponents of CHLs.

Chad Ramsey, Senior Associate Director of State Legislation and Politics for The Brady Campaign, told me over the phone, “Oregon has a long way to go in enacting sensible gun laws. Oregon simply doesn’t do a good enough job in making sure people who shouldn’t have guns don’t get them.”

Once a debate over Federal vs. State laws and regulations, gun ownership is an individual’s right, as underscored by the Supreme Court decision overturning of the ban on firearms in Washington D.C. State controls over CHLs are minimal, limited to background checks and flagging of drivers’ licenses; Deschutes County Sheriff Larry Blanton may offer whatever programs he wants – including forgoing an actual shooting test. He also gets to decide whether you can find out if your neighbor, your coworker or the guy sitting next to you in traffic is carrying a gun under his jacket.

The Source filed a State Public Records request to obtain this information and received a letter from Sheriff Blanton in response, which states that the “exact number of permits currently issued in Deschutes County is 6,671. There have been 84 concealed handgun license permits denied or revoked in 2006/2007.” Adding that “Deschutes County Sheriff’s Office declines to disclose to you the names and addresses of concealed handgun licensees pursuant to the State Public records law.” We then turned to the Oregon State Police, who were much more forthcoming.

Congratulations, Deschutes County! We are the most pistol-packing county in Oregon! 2.7% of Oregonians have CHLs (101,642 total statewide) while 4.1% of Deschutes County residents do. Multnomah County has the most CHLs, 10,590, but per capita, only 1.8% of its residents have CHLs. Sherman County exceeds Deschutes County in CHLs per capita, 4.7% vs. 4.1%, but Sherman County’s 1,855 total residents with 89 CHLs couldn’t hold us off for long. Another interesting discovery while digging into CHLs are discrepancies between state vs. county records – The Oregon State Police showed 6,156 CHLs issued in Deschutes County as of Thursday, June 26, 2008, while Sheriff Blanton’s letter, dated June 24, 2008, shows 6,671. Since 84 CHLs have been “denied or revoked” in 2006/2007, the discrepancy of 515 CHLs is rather difficult to explain.

If Deschutes County has 515 CHLs issued that the State Police are unaware of, for whatever reason, and Sheriff Blanton won’t release the names and addresses of those with CHLs, how do we know? Will we only know when too late? Road rage, a domestic dispute, don’t we have the right to know who’s packing? Our Sheriff “declines to disclose” this public information, so we’ll just have to wait, hope. Until a gun goes off…

Sheriff Blanton has other reasons for not disclosing the names, despite the law and our official Public Records request. Reached by phone, Sheriff Blanton explained his rationale for refusal, citing concerns such as the possibility of home invasion and identity theft, saying, “I don’t see any good that would come from releasing names and addresses of CHL holders.”

But, when asked about the 6,671 CHL holders in Deschutes County, Sheriff Blanton prefaced his answer with “Knock on wood,” then afforded, “We haven’t had any issue with anyone trying to affect an arrest as a CHL holder.”

Sheriff Blanton couldn’t fully explain the discrepancy between his number of CHLs and the Oregon State Police’s, saying only that Deschutes County takes 30-40 applications a month and time time to get the information to the state. Also, the number changes routinely, due to revocations after arrests, etc. Still this doesn’t explain Sheriff Blanton’s office reporting 515 more CHLs for Deschutes County than the State Police are aware of – Given 30-40 applications and a total of 84 revoked or denied CHLs since 2006, it would take nearly two years for the Sheriff’s and State Police’s numbers to synch.

Nonetheless, Sheriff Blanton supports the CHL training. “People are going to own handguns anyway, and the class is a good way for us to tell people about the law and gun safety.”

Image
If our Sheriff’s reasons to refuse to release CHL information and differing statistics behind CHLs confuse, maybe outrage, so too do indiscriminate policies. “Local control” may have cost Oregon 2 points on The Brady Campaign’s scorecard, but it remains a hotbutton issue in the bigger battle over gun rights and CHLs.

Consider the case of Shirley Katz, a teacher at South Medford High School with a CHL, who made national headlines last fall when she insisted on bringing her Glock 9mm handgun to school. Her ex-husband, Gerry Katz, has denied acting violently towards her and says he isn’t a threat to her or students, but Shirley got a restraining order and continues to insist that she needs her Glock. The school district has a policy against concealed firearms, though, and Ms. Katz was notified of possible disciplinary actions or termination of her employment as a teacher if she continued carrying. So she sued; the case hit the press and created a firestorm around the right to carry a concealed handgun in schools. Debating whether the district’s banning of concealed firearms in schools was mere “policy” (thus overridden by Oregon CHL laws) or an actual “ordinance,” Jackson County Circuit Court Judge G. Phillip Arnold denied Katz’s preliminary injunction against the Medford School District on November 9, 2007.

In deciding and arguing as such, Judge Arnold sidestepped the bigger debate over CHLs. State vs. Federal, 2nd Amendment rights of individuals vs. overall public safety. Ms. Katz is appealing the decision, as is Sheriff Mike Winters, who lost his attempt to refuse to release the names of CHL holders in Jackson County to The Mail Trubune. Still Katz cites that he restraining order against her ex-husband has lapsed and hints at a much larger argument for her appeal: Forget school policy vs. state law and the definition of “ordinance.” Instead focus on fear. Calls to Ms. Katz weren’t returned as of press-time, but she framed her new argument in an interview with the Associated Press in March 2008: “Since my case first emerged, we’ve seen six or seven more cases where students were either wounded or injured or killed. It hasn’t stopped. It’s not going to stop until security at school becomes a priority.”

Where Ms. Katz got her statistics from remains in question, but she has made powerful new allies. Ms. Katz at least went through classes (in a Sheriff’s office no less, hardly the preferred meeting place for serial killers and violent persons intent on a rampage) paid the fees and had a criminal background check before being issued a CHL. Her appeal won’t be heard for months but, given the Supreme Court’s new precedent for gun ownership in Washington D.C., she will probably be packing by the fall.

If I had brought my umbrella today it wouldn’t have rained.

That’s the argument being made by proponents of CHLs and less gun control. Essentially, in order to stop another Columbine or Virginia Tech shooting rampage, we need a well-armed populace: If one citizen with a gun was there, they argue, that other citizen with a gun would have been stopped. Hypothetical at best, such arguments are, quite frankly, as silly as others pro-gun groups try to make.

“Fact Sheet: Guns Save Lives” on www.gunowners.com offers a cacophony of arguments against gun control. “A citizen in the Sunshine State is far more likely to be attacked by an alligator than to be assaulted by a concealed carry holder.” and “Armed citizens kill more crooks than do police.” Using stats both dated and deceptive, far-right pro-gun groups depend on the abstract. And fear. Rape is a calling cry, as well as “anti-gun Clinton researchers concede that guns are used 1.5 million times for self-defense.”

But there are facts that these groups fail to mention. Like how violent crime has been falling for a decade, with minor, recent blips, and another 1.4% decrease in 2007, according the FBI report released on June 9, 2008. Nor do they mention Mark Wilson of Tyler, Texas, a citizen with a CHL, who ended up dead after trying to stop a shooter outside a courthouse. The battle over gun rights may be more local, individual, but pro-gun groups are now going international. Earlier this year a gunman attacked students at Jerusalem’s Mercaz Harav Seminary and an enrollee with a licensed handgun, Yitzhak Dadon, shot the assailant, ending the melee and a possible bloodbath.

“Yitzhak Dadon is a hero,” offered Alan Gottlieb in a press release as chairman of the Citizens Committee for the Right to Keep and Bear Arms (CCRKBA), followed by the rather ridiculous, “What a pity someone like Mr. Dadon was not in class last April at Virginia Tech. What a tragedy that anti-gun extremism would keep him from attending class at Northern Illinois University. He would never be allowed to teach at Columbine High School, hold a job at Trolley Square in Salt Lake City, or go shopping at Omaha’s Westroads Mall.”

Yes, you heard Mr. Gottleid right: One student in Jerusalem shot a gunman so five rampages could have been stopped in America – if not for “anti-gun extremism.”

Back in Bend, discharging a firearm is banned. This dates back decades but the original, rigid language “No person other than an authorized peace officer shall fire or discharge any gun or other weapon...” has been relaxed over the years. In 1990 the ordinance was amended to include two new caveats: “It shall be a defense to a prosecution... that the person was acting in defense of life or property...” and that “the person was test firing or discharging the weapon, as a necessary part of the person’s lawful business operations, at a firing range...” Essentially, it’s a Class A misdemeanor to discharge a weapon, unless defending your life or property, or discharging a weapon...

CHLs make holders exempt from such city ordinances state-wide, however ambiguous. And it is the proof of training element – fulfilled by the three-hour class with Sergeant Bilyeu – which makes this possible. This exemption also extends to policies that prohibit firearms in public buildings and schools. Except South Medford High School, it seems. Our CHL class being held in a county building only adds to the ambiguity – Though there is a clear sign upon entering stating that the possession of firearms is prohibited, it isn't enforceable to those with CHLs.

“I trust you guys with this information,” Sergeant Bilyeu says to us in summation, offering advice on transporting a concealed weapon once we are licensed to do so. He urges us to buy a holster with a secure clip, and discourages fanny packs or purses that can be easily forgotten on the back of a chair at a restaurant or movie theatre. There is liability and responsibility that comes with the CHL, that’s the closing message.

And it’s over, a CHL commencement of sorts. All 35 of us can now pay $65 and apply for a CHL, be legally carrying a concealed firearm in a month or so, assuming we pass the criminal background check. So we left, into the quiet night, somewhat ready to carry an umbrella in case of rain.

In Oregon, efforts to keep criminals and other dangerous people from “easily obtaining guns” continue to disappoint. The Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence does an annual scorecard of states’ performance based on five categories. Of the total 100 points available Oregon earned only 18: 0 points for the “Child Safety” category (requiring locks, preventing juvenile purchases etc.) and 0 points for “Ban Military Style Assault Weapons.” Without a ballot initiative to close the gun show loophole in 2000 (wildly approved by voters 62%-38%) Oregon would have fared far worse. The 5 out of 35 points Oregon earned for the “Curb Firearm Trafficking” category highlights how far the state still has to go. The one highpoint is the 6 of 10 available points earned in the “Guns in Public Places and Local Control” category – being a “shall-issue” CHL state, Oregon automatically loses 2 points, while “local control over firearm regulations allowed” also cost another 2 points. However dour, Oregon ranks in the middle of the pack: Kentucky and Oklahoma are the worst, tied with 2 of 100 total possible points; Utah earned 4 points, Idaho 6, and Washington State tied Oregon with 18. Tying or exceeding our neighboring states in preventing gun violence may seem comforting until we look south: California scored the most points of any state with 79 out of 100.

Ghost Town Tour of Central Oregon

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 13:38:00 +0000

Originally appearing in The Source Weekly, an alternative weekly in Bend, Oregon, "What Remains" is my ode to old barns and decrepit downtowns.

The original story with illustrations may be found at:

www.tsweekly.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=2489&Itemid=2

Towns die for innumerable reasons. Whether changes in transit, the advent of the automobile, railroads or highways rerouted, or natural disasters, floods and fires. Chaos is another cause: Narrows, Oregon, was nearly eaten whole by jackrabbits until a bounty was placed on their ears; early Paisley never quite recovered from a failed payroll robbery that left one dead and the locals shaken. Swallowed by neighboring towns or cursed by events, others cede by choice, communal suicide, with residents agreeing to move on instead of further toil.

Maybe sadder are towns that don’t realize they’re dead, yet. Youth leaving for better opportunities elsewhere, generations erode until only old-timers sitting on sun-bleached porches remain. More abundant than ghost towns, dying towns receive few tourists; no one wants to view the terminal patient but the wake.

Central Oregon is an inhospitable landscape, making early migrant settlers some of the most stout in American memory. But the arid climate also preserves much of what they left behind – What Remains – on the high desert, hillsides and grasslands. Oregon is speckled with dozens of failed mining and/or forgotten towns, leaving us to wonder why a decrepit barn is so beautiful; have we learned from their mistakes?

Leaving Bend at pre-dawn before a mighty winter storm hits there are tumbleweeds blowing across Highway 97. How cliché – Going on a ghost town tour and Hollywood’s symbol of desolation is raking before our headlights. Our goal is to see such places not in spring or summer but winter, when settlers felt the full wrath of Central Oregon. A 100-mile northeastern swoop, weather permitting, we pass the silent Madras stock auction yards at first light.
Shaniko

This-ain't-tombstone...-The-shaniko-hotel-is-as-genuine-as-the-40-mph-winds.-Meanwhile,-a-portland-Doctor-has-bought-most-of-the-town.
Marked on maps as a “tourist ghost town” Shaniko is a shell of its former self, ravaged by fire and recently salvaged and partially preserved by a wealthy Portland doctor. Surrounded by windswept grasslands, the first signs that Shaniko is near are a placard for the 45th Parallel – the equidistant point between the North Pole and the equator – and fences for the R2 Ranch lining 97 north. Dr. Robert Pamplin, Jr., inheritor of a family denim manufacturing fortune, owns the R2 Ranch and the Portland Tribune newspaper. Self-described businessman, philanthropist, preservationist, farmer, minister and author, Dr. Pamplin started making investments in Shaniko a decade ago and now owns several of the town’s remaining buildings, most notably the wool barn.

Wool is what put Shaniko on the map. Established in 1900 with a population of 172 at the terminus of the Columbia Southern Railway, Shaniko became the center of the “Wool Capital of the World” (Central Oregon at least) with sales exceeding $3 million in 1903 and $5 million by 1905. Within a decade, however, Bend played a part in the demise of Shaniko, when the competing Oregon Trunk railroad was completed along the Deschutes River. Shaniko was the end of the line by 1911, and a fire that same year consumed most of the downtown. World War I opened inexpensive wool imports from Australia, and Shaniko was mostly silent by 1942. You will find no cemetery because the ground is too hard, which is fitting because Shaniko’s founders wouldn’t recognize the town today.

Reminiscent of Lago, the town Clint Eastwood exorcised in the movie High Plains Drifter, Shaniko has been revived as a tourist destination by Dr. Pamplin. False clapboard fronts and annual events (“Shaniko Days” are held every August) bring tourist dollars to town. One business owner who refused to be named estimated the population at 25, “except when the grandkids are visiting.” A decade ago his wife and sister were driving through, saw an old building needing fixing, so they stayed. Asked why people like to come to these towns, he groaned, “Beats the hell out of me.”

Me too, on a miserably chilly day with 40 mph winds and no other tourists in sight.

Yet this town’s former importance is obvious, and its structures impressive. And expensive – to maintain at least. When compared to pictures from Lambert Florin’s 1973 book Ghost Towns of the West, Shaniko gets more love than most. The Shaniko School was built in 1902 and its unusual octagonal steeple stands proud with a fresh coat of paint; the Shaniko Hotel is truly authentic while the Shaniko Wedding Chapel awaits an eloping couple.

Taking 218 towards Antelope it all became clear. Shaniko is in fact misnamed – it should have been Schernechau – and has been bought before. The tourist ghost town behind us actually brought the end to the once thriving stagecoach town before us.

Cross Hollows

A half-mile south of Shaniko stands two structures: A double-cupola barn and a single-room shack whose sole occupant is a rusty mattress. This is where Shaniko started, at the intersection of two gullies where people boarded stagecoaches to The Dalles and beyond. Cross Hollows was a prosperous community with a post office built by John and Elizabeth Ward, who were then bought out by German immigrant August Schernechau in 1874. The local Indians are said to have liked August but mispronounced his surname as “Shaniko.” With the departure of the postmaster in 1887, arrival of the railroad terminus and, ever essential, the discovery of water to the north, Cross Hollows was abandoned in favor of Shaniko.

Cross Hollows is an actual ghost town, population zero, exempting the dead badger someone slouched over a roadside stump. Other structures have crumbled, leaving only aged poplars as signs that more once stood here. Migrants often brought seeds to plant – lilacs and poplars – making circles of trees the sole evidence that this was once known as home.

Antelope

The dozen-mile stretch to Antelope on 218 is like Lombard Street in San Francisco: S-curves as it descends through Big Pine Hollow, along Sore Foot Creek, into the valley named in 1862 after the antelope that once grazed there. Here too is another town killed by Shaniko – Antelope had one of the earliest post offices in Central Oregon in 1871, supplying ranchers and writing regional religious and murderous history for well over a century. The sign outside town reads “Welcome to Historic Antelope, Pop. 37” but the 2000 census shows a population boom of 59 total residents (we saw only one).

Similar to Shaniko, the structures of Antelope are period and well maintained. The little church recalls the town’s early affluence, and recent upkeep, compared to photographs in Philip Varney’s 2005 book Ghost Towns of the Pacific Northwest. Meanwhile the decrepit jailhouse murmurs of murder. In 1885, Ed Gleason shot his business partner, Benjamin Pratt, dead, all due to rumors that Pratt had a crush on his wife. Gleason spent time in the jailhouse, and was later found justified of the killing.

A devastating fire in 1898 claimed most of the business district, and the establishment of Shaniko was fatal to Antelope. Still people were drawn here, including the founder of The Bend Bulletin, Max Luddemann, who married a local gal after building a chain of weekly newspapers, including the Madras Pioneer and the Ashwood Pioneer (based in another ghost town southeast of Antelope, of which little remains). Antelope's remoteness was only exacerbated when the state re-routed Hwy. 97 in 1917. But Antelope would be resurrected - rather divisively.

Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh arrived with thousands of devoted followers clad in red in 1981, and a cult-like commune was established outside Antelope. Their town soon renamed Rajneesh, Antelope looked more like Jonestown over the next four years, with charges ranging from food poisoning to embezzlement and immigration fraud. Rajneesh was ultimately deported. Facing an uncertain future, residents unincorporated the town and reverted to the original name of “Antelope” to avoid similar episodes. A plaque in town reads: “Dedicated to those of this community who throughout the Rajneesh invasion and occupation of 1981-1985 remained, resisted and remember...”

Curiously, Antelope’s future is again entrusted to a religious group; Rajneesh’s compound is now the Young Life church camp known as “Wild Horse Canyon.”

Onto Fossil

Route 218 passes padlocked grange halls and corporate ranches, revealing a political, commercial past and present. Crossing John Day River at Clarno offers optimism but barns stripped of sun-dried boards are all that eager eyes can see. Entering a fertile valley of crushed velvet green peaks and ancient fossils, seasonal recreational seekers seem the sole sign of life.

For $3 anyone may dig behind the Wheeler High School in Fossil. The only public fossil field in the United States, Fossil is selling itself. As it must: Established in 1876 as a post office and made the county seat of Wheeler County in 1899, Fossil is now drawing tourists with annual rodeos and a fledgling bluegrass festival. Locals only seem to smoke Marlboros and Kent menthols here: “We stock what people buy...” said the woman at the market. She’d just said a mouthful. Still supplied by the gravity water system installed in 1899, the 500 or so residents of Fossil seem resigned to remote relegation.

The weather has held out but dark clouds and winds are growing in the distance. To the east are other ghost towns, Lonerock and Hardman, but we must make our way back to Bend so we don’t find ourselves freezing overnight in structures proven deficient and abandoned long ago.

Richmond

School-anyone?--The-1874-Waldron-Schol-off-207-is-one-of-our-best-preserved-early-structures.
Like Antelope, Richmond was built to supply the surrounding ranchers in 1890. Located an eighth of a mile off route 207, equipped with a community center, school, church and several residences, Richmond sits in a serene valley that still invites. Yet the only visible resident was the loneliest black lab in the world. He followed us everywhere, attacking playfully, shooting mud with each assault and wag. There are newer homes, one a pseudo-rustic log cabin and another a redneck compound with a shotgun shack to the rear. Mercifully, only the dog welcomed us.

The church and school are both fenced, no trespassing allowed, perhaps because the pews of the church were removed and are now in the Fossil Museum; Richmond has suffered enough indignity. The community center is crumbling. A sampling of automobiles decomposes nearby. For such a splendid location – Iron Mountain in the distance – Richmond whispers a melancholy refrain. Century old echoes of a time when 450 people filled this little hamlet for the gathering of the Wheeler County Pioneers.

Now there’s only a lonely dog and posted structures. So we drove away like all the rest. The automobile undermined Richmond; young people refused to stay – the school that once taught 40 students closed in 1952 with one teacher for one student. Four miles south of Richmond on 207 is the 1874 Waldron School, easily the best-preserved structure so far on our journey, yet another school lacking students.

Mitchell and the Ochocos

207 to 26 and Mitchell: A town dying faster than Fossil. The 170 or so residents surely sense this, having suffered multiple floods (1904 and 1960) and fires (1896 and 1899) along Bridge Creek. Sometimes you must accept that you simply aren’t wanted.

A seasonal fishing and hunting town, Mitchell is for sale – A gray, frail building with a second-floor porch downtown is available for $69,000 “Price Reduced!” Leaving Mitchell, and only then seeing that town has crawled up the slope and wisely relocated at higher elevations to avoid flooding, we are heading for home, into the Ochocos and the face of the storm.

Our Remains

Oh, the Ochocos! Cabins and barns, in use or abandoned; route 26 is the only road to follow after eight hours and over two hundred miles of touring ghost towns. Wondering why we’re attracted to ghost towns, others’ failures, I now realize that we’ve missed the point.

They’re everywhere – Wherever we go, Americans especially, we leave messes. Buildings soon to be abandoned, we are conspicuous constructors: Our failed mines and forgotten structures are evidence of our itinerant earnestness.

Yet, only in ghost towns is this so vivid because of the void. Of people: At one time, in each of these empty places, it was admitted that all is lost. They left so now we return, to wander, to wonder. What if Cross Hollows had said no to Shaniko? Antelope become atheist? Richmond ignored the automobile and invited the Amish? Are Starbucks our new Grange Halls?

In this age of pre-assembled structures and planned obsolescence, what will remain? Are we as sturdy as those before? Or will we leave only ruins – piles of aluminum siding, sinkholes from septic tanks, toxic earth beneath engine blocks? Cracked concrete, our contribution, our legacy. What remains is who we are.

-30-

Sidebar:

“Who Shot Paulina?”

Image
The semi-permanent trailer that serves as the post office hardly inspires confidence in Antelope’s future, nor does it do justice to one of Central Oregon’s most famous figures – And killings.

By April of 1867, Howard Maupin was enraged by the persistent theft of livestock. So Maupin, who ran a stagecoach line, rode out with rancher James Clark to Trout Creek. Finding stolen cattle, they shoot at several Indians. One was wounded in the hip and didn’t return fire. Accounts vary on whose shot found the mark, Maupin’s or Clark’s; neither knew the significance at the time. Still they scalped the indian and left the body where it lay. Unbeknownst to Maupin or Clark they had killed Chief Paulina. Howard Maupin would get the credit and was later named postmaster of Antelope. Streets and a town named in his honor memorialized the deed. Meanwhile, lakes, valleys and peaks throughout Central Oregon eulogize Chief Paulina.

Living Art: On the street with Bend's best unsung artist

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 13:30:00 +0000

An ode to my good friend Francisco Christich, this was the most personal piece I've ever been assigned. He's talented, intelligent, and forced to clean bathrooms of a bar...

For the original illustrated story visit:

www.tsweekly.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=3112&Itemid=2

We met at the Westside Tavern last December, a stool between us and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off on the TV. Pointing to the screen he sighed, “The downturn of society...” I, however, considered John Travolta a sign of the Apocalypse, underscored by his contribution to Hairspray. Two beers and all of Francisco’s money later, now seated side by side, we both agreed that the tipping point of America was Ronald Reagan.

Francisco Christich: the name of a friar or cult leader. Or an artist, nine-ball guru, father and friend. Francisco, the most modest human being I met in my nine months in Central Oregon. A song; the antidote to gloating galleries and braggart collectors, trust-fund artist managers – We both knew we’d spend much time together after that night at the Westside. Yet neither could have guessed how rotten it would end.

His entry to Bend was apt. It was a choice between here or Sante Fe; “When the car broke down that kind of made the solution clear.” That was 30 years ago. Francisco will be 62 in September and shows every second on this Earth. A scar under his gray hay hair from a car crash 20 years since (of windshields he offers, “They’re hard – they win, you lose.”), ashy marks like cuffs around his wrists (“Some pigmentosis...” he explains, then jokes, “Actually I got those storming the cliffs of Normandy.”) and a silky white beard Santa would wear if evicted from the North Pole. An American mutt, Francisco’s father was Mexican and Slavic while his mother was Native American and French, “As far as I know.” Raised in East LA, it was his mother who sat him down at an easel when he was four and told him to paint.

Fifteen hundred works later, Francisco Christich is a famously unknown artist. Some of his paintings hang on private walls (mine included, bearing his sublime “Cosmic Junkyard”), 500 are in storage while the other 1,000 “just slipped away.” Of the three total murals in Taos, New Mexico, he painted two. In Bend his works are scattered across town, the most recent being outside the Wall Street Bar – three panels depicting a ghost town along Smith Rock, Klondike Kate, and a tall two-section piece showing the flow of the Deschutes. The images are striking, more so because Francisco hardly had any paint, “Green, blue, had to steal some red – It was fun, challenging to use exactly what I had.”

He’s being charitable today. The last time I saw Francisco he wasn’t so merry, rather bitter. A room for rent has made all the difference. Francisco’s been homeless for the past few months, hopping between couches and empty buildings. “You can only stay in a place so long, you gotta keep moving...” Nearly arrested on the westside for squatting weeks ago, he overheard a conversation between the building’s owner and leaser and knew then the jig was up. Onto another place, this is nothing new; “I lived on the street in the ‘90s.”

To know Francisco, look into his eyes. Talk to him. Buy him a beer for the effort; honor. The miracle of this man is his undeniable aura, however dire the situation or dour his spirit. For an artist to watch the rise of Bend as an artistic city, and to be ignored throughout, he has every right to feel slighted. But it runs deeper, and why Francisco deserves recognition – Because he seeks none. Instead of jealousy or angst he takes a long-view, ever the outsider, “I saw in the local arts magazine all the people at Art Walk smiling, drinking wine. That looks like fun.”

Francisco doesn’t do shows. He had one in Tacoma and describes it as “a lesson in futility.” He’s shy at first then affable and gregarious after proving you’re a “real human being” – I had a ping pong party in January and, of the nearly 20 contestants, Francisco was the only one who didn’t play. But he was the one person everyone remembered, with some offering him a room if he’s ever in Portland.

I was renting Val and Tyler Winterholler’s home in Tumalo at the time. Val’s an artist too, a painter with a sense for scratching a seemingly finished piece to reveal its true soul. Inexplicably she started painting pods nearly two years ago, until realizing she was pregnant with a daughter, Tessa – a subliminal if not eerie signal. Alas, their house was soon for sale so I moved an alley away, into an overpriced shack with bad vibes. I couldn’t create, winter wouldn’t go away, and I wasn’t the only one struggling.

Francisco had lost his studio apartment in the Broadway Courts, unable to afford $450 a month, and his landlords refusing to take art in lieu of rent. “Nice people, sorry I lost it.” Back to hopping couches, again, and his constitution worsening – wheezing and tearing, allergic to the dog in the house. It’s hard to bitch when bumming a bed, but Francisco obviously needed help. So I took him in, offering a spare bedroom with visions of an artistic commune: Me writing, him painting, quitting late afternoon to molt minds.

Gentle, passive, introspective, Francisco is a flower child with caveats. Speaking of his generation he gets sentimental, “We’ve been through peaks and valleys, and now we’re in a valley... The Sixties were quite energetic, dynamic, the age of assassinations, LSD. There are two hippie generations, one on TV and the other real. I think that story’s never been told, the revolution. We bought a bag of goods, a picture of a picture of a picture.”

It’s such introspection and modesty – Francisco’s inability and/or unwillingness to go out and sell himself – that has limited his success, as he readily admits, “I’m always open to offers but offers are few and far between... If you don’t compete it’s a little tougher.”

Instead of competing and promoting, Francisco creates. He paints, incessantly, two or three projects at a time. Early inspirations being Gauguin, Cezanne, Dali, Picasso (“The beginning of the end of art – The traditionalists hated those guys”) now his art emerges from his mind, “I suppose dreams, and Native America, to keep it alive.”

Francisco slowly recovered but was ever sensitive to my smoke (cigarette at least), buying us groceries with his food stamps, seeking inspiration. It lasted hardly three weeks. That house is cursed and I simply had to leave, find another spot. Our farewell was in the form of a yell, “See ya, Francisco!” mopping the floors of our failed commune as he pushed his bike with a busted front rim away.

I found a house with a dog to sit but he wasn’t so lucky. That’s when Francisco became homeless, again, mostly my fault but the misguided guilt trip that ensued was equally shared. We saw each other but seldom spoke. For a time I considered contacting his son Eli, a writer and graphic artist in Portland, or daughter Hesper Moon, the mother of Francisco’s two grandchildren, and asking them to come and fetch their father. He was in bad shape, mentally and physically. But I know Francisco; his character refutes aid – Even when totally broke I never saw him beg. Subtle nods and blank stares became our greetings and goodbyes. Both bitter, our brief moment of bliss ending so badly, I set to writing as Francisco sought a spot to sleep that night.

Exacerbating the silent tension was the lack of any response from my literary agent. I’d set myself up, see, and dragged Francisco along, dreams and dreads included. “A Strange September Song” is the novel Francisco wrote years ago in a single month. “Like a gift dictated to me. 99.5% the way it was,” is the way he describes the story, the process. About a reckoning between pool hustlers, “A Strange September Song” is based on Francisco’s past life as a nine-ball player.

Not a hustler or shark, rather an itinerant pro since graduating Palo Alto High School in 1964, Francisco’s fame-claim is beating the #9 player in the world when he took Billy Johnson for $35 in San Diego. His “biggest score” was here, pocketing $3,500 total in Bend in the early 1980s, playing $700 a game. And then there’s that Boise bar full of farmers betting. He entered and decided, “It’s not a good idea to hustle a farmer. So I announced myself...” Later, each farmer shook his hand as Francisco left with $500 in winnings. The circuit can be unkind, though, hustlers wear out their welcome quickly: A good friend of Francisco’s, Jesse James (his actual name), took a girlfriend down south, through Oklahoma, “and he never made it out.” Only the girlfriend returned, and wouldn’t speak of what happened to Jesse James.

Francisco doesn’t play much pool anymore. He wins when he does, but fading eyesight and lackluster local competition make it a tedious task. Having been around the best for decades he says of Bend, “It’s like watching Tiger Woods, then going and playing miniature golf.”

“A Strange September Song” is a damn good read if you ask me. But my agent wouldn’t know – I sent her the first few chapters and there’s been no response, yet. This irked Francisco, more so when on the street with no address to receive even a rejection letter. It irked me too, but for other reasons. I had a novel of my own to finish and at last living in a fertile house – If my agent can’t be bothered to read a novel from a friend, will she bother to sell mine? This is when Francisco gets prickly, bringing up the topic of his novel and my agent’s unresponsiveness – Blunt as it may be, I couldn’t be bothered; I’d given Francisco a place to stay, however briefly, and now I had bigger worries.

The bitterness only grew. Especially when I told Francisco I was house- and dog-sitting for Midda and David Kinker on Delaware. Midda is a gem, the nurse I’ll need someday soon, while David is an artist. And competition for Francisco, a fellow muralist, despite the fact he refuses to compete. David is his opposite. A working artist, well-known and in demand, not shy to offer his services for pay, trade (receiving enough coffee for an Army from Strictly Organic to paint an ivy pergola above the self-service area) and at times gratis at public events – “Balloons Over Bend” and the Country Fair.

However inverse, when asked which local artists he respects, Francisco affords, “There’s a lady in Sisters, and I like most of David Kinker’s work.”

And then there’s the new breed, the “corporate muralists” – those who offer to do work for “free” while including product- and logo-placement in pieces. “Undermining the art world,” groans Francisco, “One comes by and offers to do it for free, while a working artist should be charging $20,000.”

Having lived with three artists by now – Val Winterholler, Francisco, and now David Kinker – I’d seen the full spectrum of arts in Bend. But not Francisco for a time, weeks without a glimpse; only by visiting the Wall Street Bar at dawn is that assured.

For money Francisco cleans the Wall Street every morning, his latest mural on the wall outside as he mops and readies the lavatories for another ruckus. “It’s amazing the amount of shit that’s left at the Wall Street – I found a joker’s hat last week, and a used extra large [maxi-pad] lying on the floor... That was nice. It’s amazing what people will do under the influence of alcohol. The nicest people too, absolutely Jekyll and Hyde, but also lots of Hydes and Hydes, it just makes it worse.”

Our final meeting meant closure for both of us. I was on a plane the next week back to New York and he’d just found a room to rent. The bitterness had faded, helped by his new home and several beers. And our conversation, the interview for this article requested by the publisher of The Source (the most consistent patron of Francisco’s work over the years), offered us an excuse to reunite. Never enemies – even as our relationship became strained under the weight of expectation and disappointment – perhaps it’s our shared experience that makes us true friends. Since first meeting at the Westside last December and agreeing that Reagan was the “downturn of society,” living and failing together, then meeting again in mid-July, it’s good to be with an old friend.

To see Francisco smile... To hear him mention “A Matter of Urgency” – his next book which, despite its title, “will take me 35 years to write. It’s a commitment to write and I become obsessive about projects.”

To be graced by his aura: artist, author, nine-ball guru, father and friend.

Survivor: “I have a love-hate relationship with Bend. There is a thriving culture in Bend. Socially it seems only bars; we sold the nightlife but they’ll get out of it. Businesses coming and going. Cookie cutter restaurants in a kit.”

Take a swig my dear friend.

“Buddhists say life is suffering. But it is grand. The universe is a trip, this endless sky.”

Smile.

He sketched me after the interview. Made me appear leaner, more serious, better than I ever could be. So we shook hands and parted ways, no more words needed.

All Apologies

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 16:43:00 +0000

To the many who have noticed, I'm very sorry that this blog has been more stagnant than the Democrat's mighty aims upon taking office.

Rove left; Gonzales gone and awaiting subpoenas; dear Lord, all I've missed ---- And not.

I've been very busy. Checkout www.brooklyneagle.com for my weekly "Borough of Writers" column, as well as www.podiobooks.com for the serial podcast of my novel "Sellout" - Oh, and good news, my "On Giants" book is now complete and with a publisher.

I thought I'd cut my own throat and create a blog.

Alas, life got in the way.

Stay tuned for more strange developments...

During "Fleet Week" NYC Suddenly Less Energy Efficient

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Tue, 29 May 2007 15:34:00 +0000

The sound stirs the loins. Hearts racing, heads turn to the skies...

And four fighters jets zoom above, sonics shaking windows, hands involuntarily raising to chests.

"Fleet Week" is upon New York City, with thousands of sailors wandering about, enjoying a brief reprieve from duty. We thank them, appreciate their tourist dollars, but not the waste they symbolize.

The Air Force uses one-half of all gasoline used by the U.S. Government. Classified, of course, but recent GAO and Pentagon reports show that the Air Force and Navy jets are only adding the energy inefficiency of America. As reported by the Dayton Daily News: "The Air Force's annual fuel consumption bill has gone from $2.8 billion in 2004 to $6.2 billion now, Maj. Gen. John Folkerts said. Over three years, the Department of Defense's standard price for a gallon of JP-8 jet fuel went from $1.10 to $2.87, before the recent run-up in fuel prices, he said."

So, as Americans are balking at pump prices, so too is the Air Force. And New York? Well, most of us don't drive, which makes such usage rather ugly - especially when booming overhead. With our mayor releasing the most bold energy efficiency plans in the nation (planning for 2030 instead of 2050 like other leaders - even environmentalists) our city is beset with the military - an unquenchable gas hog.

Herein lies the irony of America's energy policy: As reported today in the New York Times, coal lobbyists are vying for their own, personal trough: Among other bills being manuevered and manipulated in the House and Senate committees, one part is "permission for the Air Force to sign 25-year contracts for almost a billion gallons a year of coal-based jet fuel."

Permission? Coal-based jet fuel?

How about cutting a billion gallons of fuel?

Never mind, we're at war. We can't question the Pentagon or its lobbyists, uh, I mean, Generals and advisors. Instead of flying missions over a city that has been on the highest threat level since nine-one-one, please tell us where billions of Iraqi oil have disappeared to? (search last month's reports on your own, the excuses are too absurb to print here) The Pentagon says total reserves may have been over-estimated, but it is a wonder that we invaded such an oil-rich country only to undermine its production and, believe it or not, use that oil to for our own means. Oil companies are blaming refinery shortages for high prices - but didn't we hear that excuse last year; Katrina can't be blamed any longer - Just tell us the truth or bring full accountability to the fourth branch of government: The Pentagon.

Most "predator" drones now running on solar, yet we're still advancing military policies which will have lifespans of decades and are purposely intended to NOT curb fossil fuel usage and waste.

It's sad that New York City must be Ground Zero for such displays of irony. We're the most energy efficient city in America (albeit mostly by default, because we're stacked on top of one another) and welcoming and entertaining our soldiers is part of our tradition. We support our troops.

But it's getting harder and harder to support their leaders and the machine behind them. Bush/Cheney don't dare use Ground Zero for photo-ops anymore, because they already know the welcome they'll get, and New Jersey is fighting to close the bombing range that - OOPS - set a massive forest fire when a fighter jet dropped a flare on dry ground. We've had enough, and we're now taking the lead.

One can only wish that some of those soldiers, young faces filled with pride, will do the same some day. Instead of flying jets over a city already beseiged, please honor us all by staying grounded and saving what little gas remains.

Bloomberg '08 - Why and How

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Mon, 14 May 2007 13:44:00 +0000

This should have been so easy... The GOP is a mess and Dem-control of Congress remarkably effective, initially and compared to the corrupt prior, so you'd think that a Dem '08 Presidency was all but a given.

And, after watching multiple GOP prez candidates raise their hands to show their disbelief in evolution (me, I don't believe in aging) it seemed assured (however unnerving). But, weeks before, watching multiple Dem prez candidates stumble all over each other about Iraq - and Hillary now trying to cast a new vote on the war that she initially and zealously supported - it has become abundantly clear that a 3rd party is necessary.

Our country is split - not akin to the Civil War but close - and divisive issues like abortion and those fabulous unions of same-sex individuals simply aren't bringing adequate outrage from the masses (Karl Rove is obviously too busy deleting emails while the dozens of Rovian clones in the Dem ranks too busy raising money from the next Jack Abramoff) while the war is the hangover we're all trying to treat even as Bush et al keep offering us more shots.

They will split - the GOP and Dems - and a scant 37% showing by a third-party could take the presidency. So who will do so?

Michael Bloomberg, current mayor of NYC, the most brave leader in America and least beholden politician since Teddy Roosevelt. $5 billion in the bank, Mike is taking on guns - with the backing of 200+ other mayors around the country - and yet another GOP heretic who favors choice and actually believes in evolution.

He took on the Pope (the man who faced a run-off vote at the Vatican to be God's voice on earth) by giving away condoms to stem AIDS; he's released what is perhaps the only long-term plan for development and environmental controls in the country; oh, and he's a Rudy-killer - Bloomberg rebuilt NYC after 9-11, not Guiliani.

But he's got ghosts, thanks to the GOP - The RNC (Republican National Convention) in 2004 was a nightmare - thousands arrested and held without charges for the duration, as well as a highly dubious pre-conventional snooping on innocent groups. This is also his strength - He can disown the GOP in one fell swoop by saying it all to protect us. Sound familiar? When in doubt, cite protection and terrorists - Bloomberg publicly balked at Homeland Security cuts for NYC and has continually demanded screening of shipping containers - Oh, and he seems to understand the economic importance of immigrants, illegal or pending...

Pluses and minuses, Bloomberg is easily the best candidate. Will he run? Why would he bother saying yet? With states pushing-up their primaries to, well, tomorrow, we'll know by early '08. By then Hillary will have the nod from the Dems, however closely followed by Obama, and either Mitt or Rudy will be leading the GOP. Sadly, McCain is now a Shakespearian tragedy.

Bloomberg/Bill Richardson may be the most experienced and proven ticket in decades.

Gore/Bloomberg? Doubt it - both would want to lead but a mixed ticket would be the salve we all need right now.

Bloomberg/Obama? If Obama has the guts we all hope for but have yet to hear, could he too disown the party that won't pick him? Obama needs experience - Bloomberg needs no one.

Will America elect a Jew? Will you?

Post 9-11 we all looked to NYC - and the Bush/Cheney Admin used it to invade. Now, post-Bush/Cheney, look to NYC again. There's a short smart guy riding the subway to work; he's got billions and long-term plans.

Me, I like Mike.

Rush, Bees, CIA, KGB and other liars

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 14:08:00 +0000

Let us pause...

There, feel better? Had enough Virginia Tech coverage and NRA denials? Not yet - Rush Limbaugh, the sensitive addict, said that the shooter "must be a liberal." In a rambling diatribe, the shooter (who will go nameless like all fame-seeking souls should) supposedly hated the rich - thus he's a liberal. Take a (or another) pill, Rush. Imus was fired for less, you bald tub of crap (which will soon replace Imus's slur as that favored by all non-honkies) "Yo' bald tub'o crap..."

Onto other, more important matters...

Our bees are disappearing. Is anyone surprised that a species we have subjugated for our survival would say, "Oh, to hell with them..." I'm not. Some say it's those fine insecticides, others cellphone signals. I say it's our fate: Our politicians deemed ethanol to be the best bio-fuel (despite very low efficiency and vast oil usage during growth) and, now, the bees needed to pollinate our crops are disappearing. Another Exxon-Mobil conspiracy? Where are they hiding our bees so we can't make bio-fuels? Those evil bastards...

Speaking of evil bastards, has anyone noticed that there are far too many former-agents now running the world? Wasn't this predictable? The first George Bush headed-up the CIA, Russia's Putin was KGB, our current Defense Secretary was CIA... At least Russia is poisoning their former agents, ours' get promoted. Even MacBeth couldn't wash his hands clean: How can we have our government run by those who underminded others for decades?

Yet another week in "The Surge": The Pentagon recently retired the term "long war" while, at the same time, 9 troops killed and 20+ more were injured in another suicide bombing. Good thing we're surging. Pity our poor troops, support them but, please, don't threaten to cut funding for our war machine...

Better yet, pity the poor neocons who should be cons. Richard Perle needs an orange jumpsuit; Alberto "Don't Call Me Speedy" Gonzales needs more room for the nose that can't stop growing.

Next time a sexual predator is on trial and they use his/her old emails to convict, ask why the National Republican Committee's old emails can somehow disappear? Why did Rove have a special application installed on servers to delete his emails via Blackberry?

Can anyone say Abramoff? Oh, sorry, Gonzales was only concerned with voter fraud (i.e. too many minorities voting) while Hillary is running for her life from Obama. McCain needs a mirror; we need a 3rd party.

Another Pentagon Report Entitled "Ooops..."

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Fri, 06 Apr 2007 14:02:00 +0000

Dear Ike,

You were right; we didn't listen and now we're overrun by the military industrial complex... Ooops, our bad.

Pat Tillman.

Prisoner abuse.

Hussein-Qaeda Link 'Inappropriate' - Wait, what? A new report, yet another investigation of the Pentagon done by the Pentagon itself (which always inspires confidence) states that analysts reporting to Douglas Feith - flowing up to Stephen Hadley, convicted felon "Scooter" Libby and Anti-Christ (oops, sorry, Vice President) Cheney - showed "fundamental problems with how the intelligence community is assessing information."

What? Oh, right, that intelligence that Feith's (thus Cheney's) special Pentagon policy offices used to invade Iraq... Over 3,200 Americans dead, God knows how many Iraqis, and hundreds of billions wasted (oops, invested) into Pentagon budgets, the Pentagon at last admitted a big "Ooops..."

Yet another investigation that should inspire equal confidence in the war machine that sucks the largest portion of our nation's budget: ITT, the contractor who develops and provides night vision equipment to the Pentagon, was fined ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS in March for illegally exporting (outsourcing) this strategic technology to Asia and other potential future hot spots for the Pentagon's fearmongering...

In addition to these penalties, ITT was also slapped with the most horrid of all penalities: ITT is to develop the next generation of night vision equipment... Wow, that hurts - Let's hope ITT has learned a lesson - give our important technology, paid for by taxpayers to keep our soldiers safe, to our potential enemies and you'll not only have to pay fines with the tax-dollars we give you, but you'll get more tax-dollars to develop more technology... Kind of like punishing a rapist by putting him in a room full of cheerleaders...

Nice work, Pentagon. We're all eager to support our troops (and contractors and lobbyists and investigators and coup d'etats and prosthetic manufacturers) as long as you need. Good thing we don't have other concerns - like reinventing our economy for global warming, underwriting retiring Baby Boomers and restoring our dignity.

Newton Disproved: Shit Suddenly Flowing Uphill

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Tue, 27 Mar 2007 16:42:00 +0000

In an ironic twist for an administration that refutes scientific evidence in favor of pure faith, recent developments are showing the Bush Administration is now victim to a sudden change in the Laws of Gravity.

Sir Isaac Newton, creator/inventor of the Laws of Gravity, could not be reached for comment but he's surely doing back-flips in his grave with the recent news that Monica Goodling, the Justice Department's White House liaison, will take the 5th Amendment to protect hers against self-incrimination in the growing investigation into the Bush Administration's firing of U.S. Attorneys - coupled with the publication of the "official" Pentagon report on the friendly-fired death of former-NFL star Pat Tillman - showing signs that shit is suddenly flowing uphill.

A direct contradiction of the Laws of Gravity, as well as previous stances and court victories by the Bush Admin, the notion of accountability (i.e. "shit") has been effectively avoided until recently, with most bad news (aka "shit") flowing downhill, and dozens of privates and other NCOs receiving prison terms for detainee abuse and other war crimes. Any connection to Pentagon and Bush Admin officials actually encouraging such illicit behavior by underlings has been scant; but, while the Tillman investigation found no criminal wrongdoing in his shooting, it was especially critical of Lt. Gen. Philip R. Kensinger, who headed the Army Special Operations Command when Corporate Tillman was killed - and may be disciplined (probably retired) for withholding notification from Tillman's family and, essentially, creating a hero from a tragedy.

Even more damning is Goodling's position: By taking the 5th, the liaison between the White House and Justice Department is signaling that she may be called during criminal cases. Will she testify against Alberto Gonzales? Rove? Chirp birdy, sing...

Prediction: The investigation will, as my previous post said, focus on votes and the actions of the U.S. Attorneys. Bear in mind it will not be those fired but those who remained in their positions - choosing to carry the Bush Admin's banner into an apolitical post - that will offer the most outrage. Democratic phone banks were blocked in New Hampshire and any charges against GOP operatives stalled until after the elections; what about investigations into Diebold and other electronically-flawed machines?

The iceberg approaches. Bush won't be impeached, he'll have to resign. I give him 6 months... Just hope Cheney's replacement is ready: Rudy is already rewriting his stance on firearms and abortion, raising the question: Where's Kerik?

Votes and Oil - The Cause and Cure

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Wed, 21 Mar 2007 13:28:00 +0000

In viewing the uproar about the Justice Department (most certainly in tandem with the White House) firing 8 U.S. Attorneys, as well as the somber 4th Anniversary of the invasion of Iraq (thank God we were welcomed as liberators) it is time to take a long look at the causes and cures to what ails our sick nation.

Votes and Oil: The Cause and Cure for both...

As committees investigate the firings of U.S. Attorneys, it will become clear that it wasn't performance or immigration that were the reason, but votes. Especially in the case of David C. Iglesias, former U.S. Attorney for New Mexico, voter fraud and his unwillingness to prosecute cases against local Democrats, will become the theme. Understand that when the GOP mentions voter fraud it means "Dems are trying to sign-up more voters" while Dems see the GOP are suppressing voter turnout... Iglesias refused to prosecute suspected voter fraud (one Dem volunteer signing-up many errant or outright illegal new voters) so he was fired.

The sheer numbers of Dems investigated by politically-appointed U.S. Attorneys (who are politically-appointed but somehow expected to be apolitical once appointed) under the Bush Admininstration validates all claims that the position has been abused by Bush operatives, Rove included. But, what's new about that? What is new is the focus on specific districts for overall victory in elections - and this is where investigators should look. What really happened in 2004? Many still wonder about Ohio; why are we now looking elsewhere?

Our vote is our sole means of being heard. If U.S. Attorneys are being used to smear candidates with baseless investigations before elections, then the results put under a shroud of uncertainly after, what rights do We the People actually have?

Just look Iraq to see our future...

The oil industry in Iraq has been "denationalized" - meaning that Exxon-Mobil and others are already hard at work bolstering their spreadsheets. The 3rd largest reserves of oil in the world are now public - and an orgy is already underway. The Kurds have been strangely left alone over the past 4 years of carnage - Why? Because the vast majority of Iraq's reserves lie to the north - under the Kurds' feet... We can destroy Baghdad but dare not disturb the real reason for our invasion.

It all comes down to people. From the ignorant suicide bomber making a statement to the equally ignorant American voter agreeing to the full party line, we are not at the mercy of faceless organizations and conspiracies. We are actually in charge - Just as long as our votes still count - And it is time to retake control of the government we select/elect other people to run every few years. More so, we must retake control of our actions...

Australia recently decided to "tax" (meaning actually charge for) plastic grocery bags - you know, the bags you can't buy an apple without getting at least 2 to take home with you - Amazingly, by charging for these petroleum-based products, consumption fell by over 80%. Human behavior was altered by a modest fee.

How will human behavior alter once it is revealed that our votes don't count? We already know that African-Americans and immigrants don't vote when suppression techniques are utilized at the polls.

Look to Iraq to see how human beings react to being invaded for their sole resource...

Shame on us all for not acting. Shame on the same Senators who confirmed Alberto Gonzales as Attorney General, the same Senators who are now crying foul because he is what he always was - another Bush buddy, crony...

And shame on all who were surprised that Hillary confirmed what we all know. Deep-down, to the bone, we all know we can't fail in Iraq. Hillary said just that: She'll leave troops in Iraq. Desertion is not an option. Admit it: We don't care about freedom or, really, Iraqis and their rights, we only care about securing the last bit of oil in the world before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. All those holier than thou are as delusional as Cheney is evil.

Take a good look; the next time you lug a bag of groceries home, three-bags thick for safety, or when you see Prez candidates raising record amounts for the 2008 run - Ask yourself why - Aren't We The People? Is this our country? Look to Iraq and see the truth: This is us, in our name. We the people.

The NSA Administration

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Tue, 13 Mar 2007 15:17:00 +0000

Warning to readers - this post contains sexual references that most may find too close for comfort...

In dating there are three categories of lovers: Long-Term (LT), Friends With Benefits (FWB) and No Strings Attached (NSA). Monogamous, trysts, or straight sex, the compassionate and morally superior Bush Administration has proven itself to be all about fucking people without consequences...

A few cases in point:

This weekend, while fleeing North America and his sorry approval ratings (and FBI/Gonzales uproar) President Bush put it plainly, saying that funding for the Iraq War should come with "no strings attached." He said it, dead-on. Whether funding, caring for soldiers injured by his decisions, or mounting Laura in the dark, George is all about flings without repercussions. Who needs coke when you're Commander in Chief?

Scooter Libby learned firsthand that he was a gloryhole for his boss and the admin; the "fall guy" will be going to prison (failing a pardon) forever wondering why he is destined to be the bottom for endless NSA affairs behind bars.

Cheney and Halliburton have shown similar penchants for unprotected, undevoted soirees: Cheney let Libby fall on his sword, however limp, while Halliburton announced that it was taking its war profits to Dubia - moving its headquarters from Houston to another country less eager to ask questions.

And now there's the Gonzales/FBI/Federal Attorney fiasco: Who says the Justice Department must be independent? Firing 8 federal attorneys who failed to investigate mostly Dem pols, the Attorney General is the bootie call that no one wants - even his own party's appointees. Alberto "Don't Call Me Speedy" Gonzales had better learn quick that this administration is loyal to no one, even itself, and he too will slowly forced to his knees, mouth agape in awe, awaiting what so many others have experienced.

On a comforting note, it's nice to see that the Bush Admin. likes its sugar daddies - hedge funds should be left to their own greedy devices (insider trading first and foremost) while defense contractors are posting fine profits, and the Pentagon is firing Generals faster than the BBC is covering Blair's pale behind. Congratulations, fellas, the skimpy skirt Bush wore during elections keeps raising for you...

For the rest of us, we can only hope for sloppy seconds - like Hillary.

Libby Guilty; Cheney clots; Rove plots; Dems bicker

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Tue, 06 Mar 2007 20:44:00 +0000

After a week of deliberation, a jury found VP Dick Cheney's former Chief of Staff I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby guilty of 4 of 5 total perjury counts. Scooter now faces up to 25 years in prison, his lawyers seek another trial, and one sympathetic and exhausted juror said pointedly that Libby was a "fall guy."

Meanwhile, VP Cheney has a blood clot in his leg - probably from his impromptu Middle East trip last week and long flights - forcing everyone to gauge what pity may be conjured for the man: 4 heart attacks, innumerable human rights trampled and invasions later, is there a better time for the VP to step down? Not to be rude, but isn't Beelzebub ready to take him home yet? Or doesn't the devil want Cheney around either?

There is doubt that replacing Cheney - perhaps positioning an heir to Bush in 2008 - will do little good. Evangelist Brownback? Jaded Rudy? Who would want the VP post in this failed administration? More indictments are likely, despite Libby's prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald calling his investigation "idle" - But who other than the Attorney General can indict the Attorney General Gonzales? How much longer must we await impeachment hearings?

Don't wait on the Dems. Hillary is too busy shadowing Obama, Bill ever in tow and attack dogs ready like, well, Selma some 40 years ago... They're already attacking Gore's mansion's energy usage (a sign of how wary they are of the former VP and Oscar winner) and spending money like campaign finance reform wasn't passed just a few years ago...

This is a sorry state of the Union. It now appears that the Dems retaking the Senate and House only a few months ago has been a moot cause - All eyes on are 2008 with too few looking around and asking the obvious: Do we have that long?

36 Blessed Hours

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 17:32:00 +0000

From midnight Sunday to Tuesday morning, the world has experienced astonishing peace, justice, revelation, and irony.

Midnight Sunday: Martin Scorsese redeemed
The finest working director (sorry Clint) Martin Scorsese received the Oscar for "The Departed" - a veiled apology for years of insults (including Kevin Costner and "Gangs of New York") - next up: Leo...

Afternoon Monday: Christ discovered, un-reincarnated
James Cameron, yes another director, announced with dubious glee that a tomb has been found in Jerusalem with the remains of Jesus and his family. What? Wait... Isn't Christ at the right-hand of the Father? Hey, um, oh... Next thing they'll say is that the Pope is human, highly fallible and a former Nazi youth... Stupid Hollywood directors, how dare they?

Morning Tuesday: Cheney almost blown up
Dick "Last Throes" Cheney was nearly detonated by a suicide bomber at Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan - the LAST time he leaves his secret undisclosed bunker... Interestingly, and though a mile away, this is the closest Cheney has come to combat in over 4 decades of "service" - including four tours of Vietnam avoided, Sec. of Defense under Ford, and CEO of Halliburton... Sadly, at least a dozen others weren't so lucky, including another U.S. soldier, murdered by the suicide bomber today, as Cheney cowered inside, checked his pacemaker, then grunted a vulgarity and continued with his mission to cut-up Iraq's oil reserves for his pals.

Next Up: The Scooter Libby jury will be formally disbanded, deemed "Classified" then secretly renditioned off to one of our Allies for heated questioning...

Good, Bad and Inept - A Day of Presidents

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Mon, 19 Feb 2007 15:48:00 +0000

On Presidents Day, let us take a look at those we celebrate by lumping them into generalized areas: Whether they were Good, Bad or simply Inept...

GOOD

Washington (made America)
Jefferson (the Louisiana Purchase overshadows constant cat-fights with peers)
Lincoln (divided America by being elected, never served a "whole" nation, then killed when finally united)
Teddy Roosevelt (fought for the little guy - Antitrust - then flexed military muscle but mistakenly refused another term - thanks, Teddy, you Bull Moose)
FDR (despite suspending civil rights and ignoring Congress, he cured the Depression and won WWII)
IKE (military muscle with a conscience - warned us of what we suffer under today - that Military Industrial Complex...)

sadly, that's about it, six great presidents out of 42, and thank God Washington and Jefferson held office so close to each other (note - Grover Cleveland gets counted twice but was by no means "good"

BAD

Fillmore (sorry again Buffalo, but Millard's fence-straddling led to the Civil War)
Jackson and Johnson (Cherokees and Reconstruction...)
Grant (again, Reconstruction)
Garfield, Harrison and McKinkley etc etc - sorry guys, you died quickly but your deeds hardly inspired confidence - tariffs aren't economic policy either

of course there are many more, like Hoover and Carter, but let's move on for sanity's sake...

INEPT

note - "Inept" also means corrupt

JFK (Why do we still care about this guy? Assasinations offer a false sheen - What did he do? Bay of Pigs? Near nuclear war? Didn't we like Jackie O. more than this philandering goof? Oh, selecting his brother as Attorney General is all too suspect...)
Nixon (Without Watergate, tricky Dick may be "Good" but he's so bad he's Inept)
Reagan (Iran/Contra anyone? Sorry, Ronny didn't fell a single stone of the Berlin Wall and his policies still haunt us...)
Clinton (Sorry folks, history won't serve him well... High tech made the economy hum but Slick Willy ignored Aids and co-opted GOP platforms... I love to hear him talk too but, really, he's another JFK without the wife)
Bush (the first Bush that is, the CIA head who pardoned Reagan's Iran/Contra perps, please... "a million points" and "no new taxes" - a guy who makes Ford look agile)
Cheney (let's be real, G.W. Bush isn't president - sadly, he's been put on trial via "Scooter" Libby and guilty as Hillary is unelectable)

Now, browse up and see the slow decline of America. Our most inept presidents have served over the past few decades. What happened to us? Will Obama be different? Rudy G. is now running - be scared, very very scared...

Pelosi's Plane, Astronauts' Sex-lives, Russert vs. Scooter - An Ode to the Inane

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 15:54:00 +0000

The "new" Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, wants a bigger jet that can fly her back to California without refueling. Much bigger - seating at least 50 people - and she already has a personal Lear Jet; wow, the first 100 hours are certainly over...

85% of Bush's next budget is War, Welfare and Interest Payments on the debt he's racked-up waging war - Are we done yet?

Really? How much more money does our military need? $2.9 trillion budget released this week, 2,500 pages of text, charts and notes, and all that was necessary was a single page of Northrop Grumman, Boeing, Lockeed, Halliburton and Raytheon logos.
Another $145.2 billion for war, not including another $99.6 billion for, well, war... The Pentagon is getting a 10% raise this year - Are you? Bush is giving those actually fighting the war a 3% raise - Wow, that's compassion.

$300,000,000 per day - That's just one figure - another is 362 TONS of cash shipped to Iraq at the beginning of the war and over $8 billion disappearing just as quick.
What would you do with $8 billion? Perhaps buy a garage to store it - How does that much cash disappear? Republicans are saying that Democratic leaders are nitpicking old issues - BUT REALLY - Where the HELL did over $8 billion go?

Sorry, a tad exasperated this week...

Forget about universal health care, retirement for mom and dad, food for puppies... We're broke, America, busted, bankrupt - financially and morally, after a mere 7 years of George W. Bush.

Tim Russert used crutches to walk all over Scooter Libby, a man who used crutches when his indictment was announced. Strangely, the lies in the run-up to invading Iraq are being heard during a perjury trial. Saddam was hung, Scooter will go to jail, and Cheney will collect a pension.

What can Cheney say without perjuring himself? Even a grunt will indicate guilt...

How much of this year's budget is dedicated (classified, of course) to the Carlyle Group - Bush 41's company?

Exxon-Mobil made nearly $40 BILLION in profits - Halliburton also reported record profits - did you? Prediction: Within the next 6 months, the Iraqi "government" will open its oil fields to private yet noncompetitive contracts...

To that point, how soon until all defense budgets are classified - for our safety, of course...

Have you had enough yet?

The 2 parties running our country can't decide on 2 resolutions in the Senate...

While we laugh at an astronaut in diapers, can't we at least cry for ourselves?

If it helps, we aren't alone - Britain recently closed an investigation into illegal arms sales to the Saudis because the Saudis wanted to buy more weapons...

Nancy Pelosi needs a bigger plane, Bush more money for war, and America, more jails for our politicians. Save those pennies and dimes, we'll soon need every cent.

Senator Inhofe Denies He's Responsible for that Awful Smell

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sat, 03 Feb 2007 19:14:00 +0000

The Most Honorable, compassionate, visionary and incredibly independent Republican Senator from Oklahoma, Jim Inhofe, declared yesterday that the awful smell filling his office did not come from any of his orifices. Though alone in his office during the assumed emission of the putrid stank - and despite his secretary's assurances that she has never smelled anything "Ucky or un-Inhofe" in the air - proof is growing that the smell, a strange mix of sulfur, garlic and toejam, did indeed originate from the Senator.

"Noah's Ark... This smell, and any allegations that it came from me, is the greatest myth perpetuated since Global Warming..." said the Senator, who has represented Oklahoma since the mid-90s, and oftens uses Biblical references to support indefensible positions. "Solomon, Mary and Joseph..." muttered the Senator afterward, repeating that global warming is a "hoax."

Senator Inhofe's bold declaration - again despite unanimous agreement otherwise, with pages, other Senators and secretaries cringing and nearly vomiting when passing by Inhofe's office - received a majority of support from his home-state of Oklahoma. Being nearly 2,500 miles away, Oklahomans simply could not smell the Senator's stank, but one voter summed their near-universal position: "If Jim says so, David and Goliath, then it's so..."

In addition to the hoax of global warming, the Senator's history of fierce declarations that seem to defy scientific and popular proof include saying that no fetuses were killed to make his egg salad sandwich, and that he is fully independent. Being from Oklahoma - a state Inhofe says has no history of oil drilling - the Senator reminded everyone of his kind and compassionate statements after the Oklahoma City bombing, paraphrasing himself: "There were fewer deaths on that day because the workers were, after all, government employees, Joshua fit the battle, and it was only 9am, so they were still getting their coffee..."

At time of this posting, no more smells have come from Senator Inhofe's office - ever since the door has been closed, that is.

Meanwhile, proof that icecaps are melting and polar bears will become extinct remain debateable: "Next thing you'll say is that those beans I ate last night has something to do with this stink-hoax... Genesis, Abraham, David... You people believe everything educated researchers say... Israel, Apocalypse... Fill'er up, too bad this SUV doesn't run on all those dinosaurs you crackpots say once wandered this Earth..."

Best and Worst of the Week

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 14:46:00 +0000

Note - Finding any "best" was rather difficult this week... Resembling a tuna noodle casserole - a strange mix, each ingredient rather unappealing, combining to create something that needs potato chips on top to make it tastier.

#3 The Perp Walk at Scooter's CIA Trial
Who's next? G. Gordon Liddy? "Scooter" Libby's perjury trial has seen so many questionable characters - Ari "Don't listen to me" Fleischer, Judish "Oops, Again" Miller, and David "Don't Quote Me on This" Addington - that is resembled more of a police lineup than trial. Former White House spokesman Fleischer has immunity, former NY Times reporter Miller fears more months in jail, and Cheney's counsel Addington is so secretive that the mere sunlight in the courtroom gave him a tan... This is our government at work, all working for our "Commander in Chief" and "decision-maker" (but more on that as #2)

#2 "The Decider"
Forget the Iraq War, Katrina, Domestic Spying, tax breaks for everyone but who really needs them... George W. Bush reassured all of us he's in charge as "the decider" - 20,000+ more troops for Iraq; $400 billion wasted - - We eager await his next decision YAYYYY

And, drum-roll please...
#1
Tax breaks passed with Minimum Wage Hike Bill
What? Wait... We're we trying to help the most needy? Right? No? Oh, okay... I get it... Cut those taxes - China's underwriting our debt anyway... Immigration? Health Care? Renewable Energy? Baby Boomers retiring? Those damn taxes are still too high - if we're going to give our lowest workers almost a dollar more per hour, we better save business billions....
Our Founding Fathers would be proud.

Pelosi Exhausts Cheney during State of the Union

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Wed, 24 Jan 2007 15:31:00 +0000

No Word on When We Must Stop Supporting Troops

The State of the Union address by President Bush offered many new initiatives - taxing those who actually have health care, reducing America's oil consumption by drilling for more oil, and both support for and fear of Shiites. But none was as obvious as that visually portrayed by new House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, who consistently leapt out of her chair faster than VP Dick Cheney.

As if a tack were on her seat, Pelosi regularly jumped upward, her figure to right side of the screen proving faster and more eager than that of Vice President Cheney. Lacking multiple heart attacks and threats of indictments, Pelosi proved herself up to the task: A speedy House Speaker with strong legs and fast hands, standing and applauding whenever the president mentioned a subject of interest to her.

Meanwhile, Cheney looked very old. Except when any mention of the military or cutting taxes was made, the Vice President was a corpse compared to the vibrant House Speaker sitting at his side.

What all could agree on - both Cheney and Pelosi leaving their posteriors to stand and applaud with equal vigor - was the mention of "our troops." Though none could explain how America can afford unending war - nor why we must pay for the reconstruction of an oil-rich country - everyone in attendance showed blatant support for the military. Mostly due to the fact that few of them have served in the armed forces, and all of the Bush Administration actually avoided service, our elected leaders wildly applauded the fact that the vast majority of taxpayer monies go towards what we cannot - and due to their "classified" nature - will never know.

Things to look for in the future: Threatening of Social Security in order to "save" it; Jim Webb carrying that picture of his father everywhere; Nancy Pelosi in the gym, working her legs for the next State of the Union; and, most of all, more applause for the heroic men and women of the armed forces, who none of our elected leaders are related to, nor care to know, but gladly applaud - then fund companies that make predator drones and space-aged lasers.

Potential Assassin Baffled by Obama and/or Clinton for Prez

noreply@blogger.com (A Scribe Named Brad) — Sun, 21 Jan 2007 17:15:00 +0000

In a rare interview with would-be assassin Joe Scheckler, the possible gunman admitted sudden confusion over the recent announcements by both Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama of their intentions to run for president in 2008.

"Honestly, a few weeks ago, I was much more confident." confided Scheckler, an unemployed woodworker/pizza delivery driver/cock-fighting referee, "I had my sights quite literally set on Obama because, well, you know... But now, with Hillary running, I'm really torn. It has become a real toss-up."

Though described as a "wacko" and "nutjob" by his friends and fellow would-be assassin peers, Scheckler sounds quite serious when saying that he will actually do something this time.

"Lots of people remind me of my failed attempt on Dennis Kucinich," mourns Scheckler, sitting in his studio apartment in a suburb near you, remembering how he actually packed a brown-bag lunch and started his car - apparently ready to attend a speech by the forgotten Democratic presidential candidate in 2004 but lacking a gun because Scheckler is opposed to the NRA and its platform, "But what most don't mention is that I stopped because it would have made him more famous. I mean, really, Dennis Kucinich? What was I thinking? He could have gotten like ten more votes..."

Solely focused on Democratic targets, when Scheckler was asked why he doesn't consider Republicans, his face turned red, "I know, I know... Bush One, Two, Cheney, McCain... I really got lost the past few years. With losing my job delivering pizzas and the lack of woodworking projects as well as cock-fighting venues in the area... But that's all history. Now, if I could just decide which would be better - the woman or half-Kenyan... Something big, as soon as I make up my mind, something big."

However ominous he may sound, the majority of Scheckler's friends (2 of 3 total) said that he will probably again lose interest, instead focusing on another season of "American Idol." As expressed by one associate, who asked to remain anonymous - nor be referred to as a "friend" of would-be assassin Joe Scheckler:

"Joe's a good guy. He's just lacking gumption. If he could do one thing well, that would be a day to remember. Like get a job, wow, what a day - - But he's Joe, so we all listen to his talk of assassinating someone... Isn't that what friends do?"