Soup Plantation

It's a funny name for a place.  The word "plantation" is so antebellum.  It conjures up images of large, black women named "Mammy" manning the salad bar.  Mind you, there were large, black women there, but they were on the other side of the salad bar, grazing.  I ended up at Soup Plantation because after mentioning that I was trying to watch what I eat and would like a salad, my frequent lunch date, Tim, suggested it.  (Our friend Kimi refers to our lunches as "Man-Dates."   It sounds kind of gay.   I don't tell Kimi things anymore.)  Deciding on where to go is often the toughest part of my day.  I pretty much say "yes" to anything that isn't ramen.  Not that I don't like it, I just have to be in the mood to eat a two gallon bowl of noodles and broth.  Although I tend to fear buffets, not so much for unhygienic people tasting cream based soups heated over a low flame with their fingers, but more for my lack of self-control.  I had some trepidation about going to a buffet, but I did a few affirmations in my rearview mirror and felt strong enough to go.  Upon entering the Plantation, I was immediately greeted by Caroline.  She was a large older woman with white hair and black sweats.  She greeted everyone by saying, "Welcome to Soup Plantation."  I've only recently appreciated the word "welcome."  There's something really warm about it.  I've tried to incorporate it during my less populated happy hours but it just doesn't suit me.  I usually go to my fall back, "Beverage?"  I'm still waiting for the customer who responds, "No, thank you.  I'm here because I've heard about your pristine and luxurious restrooms."  Speaking of which, why don't more bars have bidets?  Lunch was actually pretty good.  I went through the salad bar twice.  Both times I got pretty much the same thing.  I had to visit the pasta bar only because they had macaroni and cheese.  There are certain things I feel compelled to order when they're on the menu.  Mac n' Cheese is one.  It sucked.  Tim warned me.  I refused to listen.  I found it pretty interesting what people would have on their tray.  Being a buffet, I don't understand why anyone would have more than one plate, as some did.  One woman had two bowls of soup and a salad.  I believe that all you can eat is lost on them.  Returning for my fourth dish of Mac n' Cheese I realized that I would come back to Soup Plantation, but, next time I would have to limit myself to the salad bar.

Ellen and Nozawa

It was an evening of chaos and control.  Chaos may be a strong word for the Ellen Show, but compared to Nozawa, it's not strong enough.  My dear friend Mary created and produces the Ellen Show.  Although I've been invited many times to see James Taylor, Paul McCartney, and Elton John to name a few, it took four years and two words to get me to go.  Def Leppard.  (Funny my spell check doesn't even recognize these as words.)  The real reason I went is because Helen Hunt was interviewed for her new film, Then She Found Me.  Actually, it's my friend Julie's film, Helen just wrote, directed, and starred in it.  The show was a hoot.  I was so excited to watch Mary oversee what seemed like a thousand moving parts.  The audience was crazy go insane.  It's truly amazing what bright lights, a dj, and a Def Leppard CD give away will do to some people.  When Ellen came out, you'd think these people had never seen a lesbian before.  She was my third; although, I suspect my UPS driver with the short spiky hair and Indigo Girls tattoos might be one, too.  After the Ellen show we went to the original, sushi Nazi, Nozawa.  It's a place that I've always revered.  Any time I was in the Valley, I would try and go.  It's been a while.  The sushi is still terrific, but the atmosphere lacks I don't know... atmosphere.  I've sat shiva that's had more laughs.  In any case, it was still delicious, but I'd much rather go to Echigo or a funeral for that matter.

Baby Mama

The funniest film I've seen since Knocked Up.  Maybe it was because my expectations weren't huge, but I'm gonna see it again.  I'll let you know.  Also, I'm going to watch the taping of the Ellen Show today.  It was broadcast tomorrow in case you want to see if I'm on it.  

Torrance

It's rare that I actually have something scheduled, but yesterday I had a real estate investment seminar at 6 p.m. in Torrance.  Any time I have a great journey, say 10 miles, during rush hour, I get together a pack and some supplies and make a day of it.  This usually involves seeing a film that's not on the 3rd street promenade.  I was set to see "Horton Hears a Who" at 2:45 in the Del Amo Fashion Center.  I normally don't go in for feature animation, but a couple of friends said that the film was great and they were right.  The Del Amo Fashion Center is pretty nice.  I chomped on a cookie, grabbed a coffee from Starbucks, and laid out on one of a dozen wooden, chaise lounges.  Life was sweet.  When I was sufficiently high enough to leave the sunshine for darkness, I got my ticket and headed in.  My first stop was the restroom.  Not much grosses me out, but while I was peeing, I looked down and saw my left shoe lace was untied.  Normally, I don't care where my shoelaces lie but a public restroom floor isn't exactly my favorite.  I allayed my fears by telling myself that people don't pee on the floor.  I looked up from my shoe to see that actually I was peeing on the floor, so much for allaying fears.  The good thing about pot is that you forget things quickly.  Not two steps out of the restroom and I was ready to tie my shoes.  I had completely forgotten where my lace had been until I grabbed it and felt way too much moisture.  I got my seat in the theater.  I was alone and thought this is it.  This would be the first time I would be the only person in the theater.  Alas, some dude who looked creepier than I sat down a couple of rows behind me.  The film is about an elephant who hears life on a speck of dust and goes on a mission to save them from certain doom in the jungle.  I highly recommend it.  Had some amazing ramen for dinner at a place called Mitsuwa Market.  They have a food court and there's one on Centinela and Venice.  The seminar was interesting.  I was ten minutes early.  The rest of the people were about forty minutes late.  Hey, that's how I roll.  I learned quite a bit.  I'll let you know if I buy anything.

MMMMMMMMMozza!

A dear friend of mine is in town from Houston.  She and her girlfriends come out once a year and live the Entourage lifestyle.  For those who don't watch the show, these ladies go out to places with a one word name: Koi, Hyde, Prey; although, occasionally, they'll branch out to two word places, like Nobu Malibu.  I was lucky enough to be treated to a two name restaurant, Osteria Mozza.   Now believe it or not, but prior to dinner, we consumed some medical marijuana.   I know, I know, my prescription is for insomnia; but, once in a blue moon I like to have a toke prior to eating so I can consume an extra pound of say, burrata.  Now weed can definitely increase your appetite, but it does so at the expense of other abilities, like motor skills and communication.  This was an issue when upon entering the restaurant, there was an immediate assault of humanity.   We countered this by blankly staring at the noisy expanse of the room.  After turning our vacant stare to the people at the host stand for what seemed like an eternity, my friend spoke up and we were exiled to the bar area. I strode across the dining room, but stopped suddenly, when I saw a waiter holding a tray with coffee blocking my narrow path.  Fearing I would knock him across the room in my elevated state, I chose to stand and look uncomfortable.  Eventually, my friend macheted our way to safety.  After twenty minutes or so, we were led to a tiny table in the corner.  We accepted this table gracefully, muttering, "This is bullshit!" after the hostess left.  We over ordered and over ate.  It was all amazing; although, we could've lived without the octopus.  I know you're wondering how can I eat so much and still stay so heavy.  I forgot to mention that I smoked half a joint between the appetizers and the primi.  Thank god for insomnia.  I'm dying to go back and try Pizzeria Mozza next door.  Let me know if anyone wants to join.

Clean Air Olympics

Reports from Beijing that China only has a 12 day reserve of coal, down from 15 the month before. (Link here.)  If the pace picks up, they could have no reserves by August.  Since China derives 70% of its power from coal, by the time the games begin, there could be nothing but blue skies smiling at Beijing.  Unfortunately, any night time competition may take place by candle light, which I find sexy.

Young @ Heart

An amazing documentary about the making of a concert whose emotional core is about aging and mortality.  It is funny and moving.  There were moments when I felt like I was watching a Monty Python film or Waiting for Guffman; and, just like that, I would be moved to tears.  I can't recommend this film enough.  It is truly inspiring.

You Down With O.C.D.?!

Yeah, you know me.  We all have our quirks.  I tend to have more than others.  For instance, every 9 months or so I get an itch on my foot that I scratch til it bleeds.  It's not normal but, it's my foot and I'll scratch it as hard as I like.  I bring up my obsessive compulsive disorder because, starting in June, my gym will have internet sign up for spinning.  Normally, on Tuesdays, I get to the gym an hour or so before class starts, so I am sure that I will get my bike.  You see I'm happy to spend an hour reading the paper just so that I'm sitting on my bike for 45 minutes.  It's been this way since I started spinning 12 years ago.  I used to wait outside for my old studio to open up.  One day I showed up late and someone was on my bike.  I knew I wasn't hallucinating because she said, "I'm on your bike."  Many came up later to console me.  After that incident I stopped going there for months.  I'm not saying it's normal, but I will say I have matured since then.  Some people have recognized my nuttiness and asked me to sign them up.  No problem. This morning we were discussing the change in policy and one of my friends described my early arrival as "psychotic."  Two things: 1) I prefer neurotic, and 2) my psychotic/neurotic behavior ensured that you got a bike.  In any case, not much changes in Los Angeles and I really like that.  Some people leave and ask what's new and, except for the fact that everyone I know is having or had a kid, not a whole lot.  Come June 1st, change will be afoot.  It begs the question, "You down with O.C.D.?!"  Yeah you know me.

Apologies to Naughty by Nature.

Drinking in L.A.

As I was riding my bike down to the dreaded Baja Cantina for a friend's birthday, I could hear Bran Van 3000's refrain, "What the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 27?" playing over in my head.  (Now if I could only jump in my time machine and go back 11 years so that can actually be the soundtrack to my day.)  I arrived at the Baja at 4.   It wasn't quite the 40 year-old spring break/cougar camp that it'll turn into in a couple of months, but it's still not my scene.  Surrounded by ladies, who aren't old enough for "Drinking in L.A." to be their soundtrack, I ordered a shot and a beer.  It was 4:15 and I wanted to wait the extra five minutes, 4:20, to break open the bag of cookies I had brought, but I wanted to get high so I passed them around.  After about an hour everyone was good and baked.  I was so trashed that ordering, which includes: reading, analyzing, and the dreaded choosing, was not in the cards.  Good times were had by all then the check came.  True to form, everyone pored over the bill; and, lo and behold, we came up short.  The birthday girl sat with her ATM card in hand as if anyone was going to let her pay.  My theory on this situation is to put in too much.  This way the birthday girl is covered and so is the server.  That's why I put in 70 bucks for my 4 or 5 beers and a shot.  We headed up to Hinano, home of beer, pool and their famous burger.  Now the last few burgers that I've had have not been very good.  I ordered a cheeseburger and a pitcher.  I hung out with my young female friends.  When my burger arrived, time stood still.  I ate the shit out of that burger.  It was good, not great.  With the sun setting, I decided to hop on my bike and head home.  I stopped off at my place of employ to use the restroom.  After vacuating several cubic liters of beer, I figured it was time for a cocktail.  My drink of the week is Absolut Pears and seven.  A colleague commented that it tastes like shampoo.  "Bullshit!" I cried.  Then the next day I walked by someone at the gym who obviously washes their hair in Absolut Pears and seven.  After my second cocktail, I hopped on my bike.  Nearing home I felt that I should counteract my cocktails with another burger.  This time I stopped at Fatburger.  I locked up my bike and approached the closed looking store front.  My colon of steel almost jumped out of my ass with glee.  Luckily, they were still open.  I consumed my second burger in as many hours.  It was delicious, far superior to the Hinano burger.  As I passed out on my hand me down burgundy couch, listening to the soothing sounds of Paul Giamatti fulminating on Federalism, all I could think of was what the hell am I doing drinking in L.A. at 38?

"He Said, She Said"

I watched the debates with a friend last night, who believes I don't like Hillary because she's a woman.  I actually felt that Hillary did a good job last night.  (Now those moderators made me yearn for Tim Russert.)  But something about Hillary rubs me the wrong way.  Occasionally, someone else hits the nail on the head.  Here's a piece from Talking Points Memo by Theda Skocpol.

"What is Art?"

It turns out my previous post, "What is Art?" was based on a hoax; therefore, I have deleted it. 

Reality TV

After judging a friend for her love of the reality show, "The Real Housewives of New York City," while letting her episodes of "In Treatment" pile up on her DVR (come on, it's HBO,) I decided to check out the last three episodes.  It only took a few minutes to see the appeal.  One can watch a show like this and feel better about themselves as people, parents, even as dog owners.  What makes this ethnography so engaging is that one gets to watch other people and all their foibles.  On the topic of reality TV, tonight we have another democratic debate.  (Old number 21 should crown the true victor of the democratic party.  Or not.)  Like "Real Housewives," watch the debate for how the candidates conduct themselves. During the last debate, I found that while Obama is considered a great orator, he had trouble creating a constant flow of ideas.  The answers seemed to be more staccato than I expected.  But, no matter what happened, he was unflappable.  On the other hand, Clinton's passion can overwhelm her at times.  She reminds me of Ramona from "Real Housewives."  No matter the price of victory, even if it means losing the war, Hillary seems hell bent on getting the democratic top spot.  Tonight's debate should be revealing not for the policy issues but for how the candidates behave.  I only hope that by the end I don't feel better about myself, as a person, parent, or dog owner.

Bra Boys and Smart People

Bra Boys is a decent documentary about a surfing tribe, who the authorities call a "gang," located outside of Sydney.  Some of the surfing footage is terrific but the story gets bogged down when it focuses on the legal troubles of two brothers who are founding members of the Bra Boys.  

Smart People is an abomination.  I could talk about the uninspired script, characters that no one cares about, or the occasional laugh, but it's not worth anyone's time.  

I don't recommend either film; although, Smart People has been compared to the far superior, Squid and the Whale, which I highly recommend.

A Clinton Presidency

I'm a big fan of Carl Bernstein's view of a Hillary Clinton Presidency.

Hillary the Republican

A few months ago, I was having dinner with my father and his friend, who both happen to be staunch liberals.  When I asked my dad's friend who he was supporting in the presidential race, I figured since he's liberal and African-American, he would vote for Barack Obama.  Because, personally, had Gore been elected in 2000, I would've popped a cap in his ass just to get a Jew, Lieberman, in the oval office.  Well, it turns out that my dad's friend is a Hillary Clinton supporter; he explained that if Barack gets the democratic nomination the republican attack machine will destroy him.  Well it turns out the republicans can relax, Hillary's on the case.  Last week, Obama got sociological at a fund raiser in San Francisco and said about people in economically depressed, small towns,  "It's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to  people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."  Now, what he said wasn't all that ground breaking.  Historically, we can find people reaching out to some wacky things in times of economic hardship.  For instance, the Treaty of Versailles after World War I left Germany destitute giving rise to the Nazi party.  In any case, Obama spoke on a subject that only gives an opponent ammunition.  Clinton chose to label Barack an "elitist."  Wow!  That's a strong statement from someone whose combined income, with Bill, is over $100,000,000, so far this decade.  Now, I don't begrudge the Clintons for making money, but "elitist" is a republican term to show that the democratic party is out of touch with the general public.  Does anyone remember John Kerry windsurfing off Nantucket?  There are two things that I believe.  The first is that George W. Bush is the president we deserve.  Second, if the democrats can't win this year, then there is no hope for them.  If Hillary continues to bash Barack, in a manner befitting the Grand Old Party, she may get a victory; but, unfortunately, it will be Pyrrhic.

Bar Etiquette - HAVE YOUR MONEY READY!

There's this bumper sticker which reads, "Bartenders: Helping Ugly People Get Laid."  I guess that's one of the incidental effects of my work.  There are many fruits of my labor (depression, violence, alcoholism,) but these can only be achieved if customers work with me.  I know this falls on deaf ears, because my three loyal readers would never violate the sacrosanct rules of the bar.  As we all know, the business model of the bar is to exchange money for legal/regulated drugs, booze, (and occasionally food, but that's so more legal/regulated drugs can be consumed.)  There are alternate exchanges.  For instance, women revealing their areolae can obtain a beverage.  But this discussion will be strictly limited to money.  When you get to the bar and order a drink(s) and I return with said drink(s), HAVE YOUR MONEY READY!  Women, unfortunately, I'm talking to you, because you tend to be the worst violators.  Last night a woman ordered her second vodka tonic from me.  She knew the price of the cocktail, but it wasn't until I told her again that she searched through the dark chasm of her purse.  After what seemed like an eternity, she finally found her wallet and that's when she started peeling off singles, only to find that she didn't have enough.  In a busy bar the goal is to serve as many customers as possible.  So every time I have to look around for you, yell to get your attention, or wait while you rifle through the black hole which is your bag, fewer people will be served; and, in turn, fewer ugly people will get laid.  Now we can't have that, can we?

A Death in the Emerald City

Colonel Stephen Scott was killed in Baghdad.  He is the ninth colonel and the highest ranking soldier to die in Iraq.  Know how he died?  In a mortar attack while jogging on the treadmill.  Yes, you read that correctly.  The highest ranking officer, in the present conflict, was killed while jogging on a treadmill.  I mean neither to dismiss the service which Colonel Scott gave to our country, nor to dismiss the life he lived with his family and friends.  I feel that Colonel Scott's death is symptomatic of the surreal life some live in Baghdad.  The "Emerald City" which I refer is the green zone, so named in the title of the superior book by Rajiv Chandrasekaran, "Imperial Life in the Emerald City."  The book discusses the beginning of the Iraq war and the life created behind the barricades in the green zone.  I can't recommend this book enough.  Surreal life aside, if mortars can be lobbed in the safest place in Baghdad, then how safe is Baghdad?  General Petraeus recently testified before congress that the security gains in Iraq are "fragile and reversible."  It sounds like an antiseptic way of describing an affair that isn't long for this world.  "Yeah, I tapped that ass, but this hook up is 'fragile and reversible.'"  See, I used it in a sentence.  The next time General Petraeus testifies on the hill Clinton and McCain will be there to grill him, but I suggest President Obama work on an exit strategy because this house of cards could fall in a bad way.

21 - The Movie

Ugh!  Bad film.  Don't bother.  Unless the story of cheating at cards, which leads to winning, unless you're too emotional to cheat well, is up your alley.  It's like Ocean's 13 without the humor, intellect, or charm.

I Want a Job at Starbucks

Well, not really.  But I just read a terrific book by Michael Gates Gill called, "How Starbucks Saved My Life: A Son of Privilege Learns to Live Like Everyone Else."  In short, the book is about Michael Gill, who had given his life to his job, was fired by someone, he had hired, at a breakfast meeting where he was left with the bill.  Ten years later and broke, Michael wanders into a Starbucks and is offered a job, which he accepts.  I was truly surprised how moved I was by this story about a man who finds his humanity slinging coffee. The book made me reflect on my job history.  I've worked at a handful of places, but only had two jobs.  During my twenties and almost half my thirties, I "worked" at M.G.M.  (The quotation marks were invented by a friend to differentiate the daily challenges I faced and what everyone else did, i.e. work.)  I remember the time, not long into my decade of service, I told my sister, with tremendous pride, how I had taken apart a box, laid it on the linoleum of my office, and fashioned a quasi-futon where I could nap.  She cracked up, patted me on the shoulder, and said, "Great, Dave."  (Although she laughed in my face, I could tell she was proud.)  As for my second job, if you told me when I graduated high school that in twenty years I'd be bartending for a living, I would have laughed in your face.  Even fifteen years ago, I was planning to go to law school, because being an attorney has status and pays well.  It never dawned on me that I hadn't met that many lawyers who love their jobs.  And, seriously, how many lawyers bang their clients after a shift?  (Do lawyers work shifts?  Fine, after a case.)  I love my job.  Don't get me wrong.  I get the occasional douche bag, but they only come in on Friday and Saturday, unless I'm working other days when they come in Saturday through Friday.  In any case, I don't know how much longer my body will be able to take bartending ten hours at a time.  But judging from the last adventure in employment, soon I'll be taking apart a box, laying it on the linoleum and fashioning a quasi-futon...

"Seven Soldiers 'killed by same gun'"

That's the headline I saw on breitbart.com.  (Link here.)  The article discussed how seven different British soldiers were killed over a period of months by the same gun.  Maybe I'm crazy but how does this rate as news?  Do the papers in Baghdad have headlines, "One Hundred Shia 'killed by same car bomb'"?  Oh, yeah, I guess they do.  They have those headlines here, too.  I guess what I'm curious about is what the interest is in seven soldiers being killed by the same gun or different guns or even a knife.  Is this CSI: Basra?  Are they going to catch the guy with said gun and try him for the seven murders?  Even better, the article ends with, "Coroner Andrew Tweddle recorded a verdict of unlawful killing."  I'm no lawyer but if a soldier from another country showed up in my town carrying a gun and I shot him, is that really "unlawful"? 

Tax the Rich! Part II

Mayor Michael Bloomberg couldn't get a congestion tax passed, but it appears that the folks in Albany and I are on the same page.  Check out the link.

The Leader of the Enslaved World

I hear people say it, and I'm guilty of it, too; the president of the United States of America is the leader of the free world.  I'm not sure why the president of a country, where you can't smoke a joint in public, ride a motorcycle without a helmet, or smoke a cigarette in your car in Calabasas without rolling up all your windows, lest you get a ticket, gets top billing as the foreman of freedom; but, none the less, that is not what this post is about.  It got me thinking about who the leader of the enslaved world is.  Is it Kim Jong-il, a man who starves his people to feed his nuclear ambitions?  Nah, his country will collapse on itself.  Maybe it's Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, a man who could some day hold the world hostage with his nuclear weapons?  His power extends only as far as the Mullahs beards.  Is it Wen Jiabao, the leader of a country whose Olympic games will be the most protested in history?  They're only a military threat to Taiwan.  I'm saying the real leader of the enslaved world is the guy whose got the leader of the free world by the balls, Muqtada al-Sadr.  Muqtada al-Sadr is the guy, who can make sure civil war breaks out in Iraq, John McCain has no chance of being elected,  and guarantee the troops will be brought home.  You see Iraq, as of late, has seen a relatively peaceful period.  (I said, "relatively.")  Part of this peace is because of the "Surge," which began in 2007.  Now the "Surge" isn't just the addition of 30,000 troops.  The "Surge" is, also, a payment system to Sunnis in Iraq in order to keep the peace.  Last year, the U.S. budgeted $150,000,000 to keep Sunni insurgents from taking up arms. (Link here.)  That takes care of 15 percent of the Iraqis, but it's Muqtada who has a huge influence over the Shiites, 65 percent of the population.  Muqtada called for a cease fire of his Mahdi army seven months ago, but it seems this may come to an end.  Recently, Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki launched a crackdown on Shiite militias in Basra which caused a backlash by militias across Iraq, including the Mahdi army.   (One telling sign will be the state of Muqtada al-Sadr's million man march scheduled for April 9th, the five-year anniversary of the U.S. capturing Baghdad.)  The fragile peace in Iraq, which hasn't looked very peaceful in the last week, can be shattered at any minute.  If Muqtada al-Sadr ends the cease fire he's declared for the Mahdi army this year, watch what happens to the leader of the free world.

Grab That Torch

There's a fun, new game.  It was played in London, called short in Paris, and will be coming to San Francisco.  It's called "Grab That Torch."  During the Olympic Torch relay, which will conclude in Beijing in 122 days, protesters of all things Chinese, namely: human rights, Tibet, environmental destruction, lead in children's toys, treatment of Falun Gong, take your pick, are trying to snuff out the Olympic Torch.  As mentioned, the next round of this riotous fun will take place in San Francisco where the route has been curtailed to six miles.  (None of which will enter Chinatown, which I find ironic.)  Torch aside, Hillary Clinton has called on President Bush to boycott the opening games.  I appreciate Hillary's half-hearted attempt to shame China, but skipping the opening ceremonies isn't the way to go.  Our American athletes will be part of those ceremonies and we should support those who have worked years for the opportunity to compete in the smog filled games.  If an individual really wants to protest China, tackling a torch holder or not showing up on the first night of the Olympics is not the way to go.  The only solution is to hit China where it hurts: their economy.  By attempting the impossible and not purchasing anything whose label says, "Made in China," will protesters actually affect Chinese policy.  I say "impossible" because most everything is made in China.  (In fact, one family spent 2005 not purchasing anything with the "Made in China" label and wrote a book about it.)  I'm surprised that neither of the democratic nominees have mentioned this tactic.  They are both pandering to the working class, manufacturing based states of Ohio, Michigan, and Pennsylvania, bellwethers of the electorate.  Threatening to rescind free trade agreements and not sign new ones, both Hillary and Barack seem to be playing to blue collar fears that manufacturing jobs are moving overseas never to return.  News flash: They are and there's nothing we can do about it.  Putting up barriers to trade isn't the answer.  I've never been to a Wal-Mart, but I understand they are quite popular.  Their popularity is based on one thing: price.  Americans seem to be keen on getting products as cheaply as possible, even if it means: manufacturing jobs leaving the U.S., environmental destruction in China, lead in Chinese toys, or repression of Chinese workers to keep wages low.  Playing "Grab That Torch" is a whole lot of fun, but it won't provide solutions to any of the problems that the players want solved.

Tax the Rich!

The U.S. economy lost 80,000 jobs in March, which made it the third straight month of rising unemployment.  The Bush administration's solution to the slow down in the economy was to lower taxes, mostly for the rich.  (The rest of us will soon get $600 dollar checks, which we'll be taxed on.)  As the economy barrels into a recession (actually through one), the only thing that cutting taxes on the rich accomplished was launching us into a new Gilded Age.  (For those who doubt we're living in a Gilded Age go get a $1000 pizza at Nino's Bellissima in New York.)  Last August the worst American bridge collapse occurred in Minneapolis, the 9th ward in New Orleans looks like a suburb of Fallouja, and applications for food stamps are at an all time high.  The American Society of Civil Engineers estimates that we need to spend $1.6 trillion over 5 years to bring out countries infrastructure to "good condition." (Link here.) I have an idea.  Let's tax the rich.  Is it such an awful idea?  I know it's politically reckless to talk about raising taxes but aren't we beyond the pale.  With inflation rising at levels not seen in decades, causing the poor and middle class to spend a higher percentage of their income (those who have it) on day to day living expenses, let those who have received the biggest break during the last 7 years to foot the bill.  My solution in a nutshell: raise taxes on the rich and rebuild America, employing the jobless along the way.  If that doesn't get the us out of a recession, then I don't know what will.  But if it does work, we can thank the rich for paying their fair share and rebuilding the country that has allowed them to amass a greater concentration of wealth than at any time in our brief history.

21 - Not The Movie

Thank God!  Another democratic debate will take place.  This time in North Carolina.  I always felt that 20 debates weren't enough.  21 should be the lucky number.  Now we will know who should be the democratic candidate.  Debates aside, Obama out raised Clinton 2 to 1 for the month of March.  Money shouldn't be the determining factor in a primary but doesn't raising 40,000,000 dollars count for something.  If Hillary does somehow get the nom, maybe she could bum a couple of million from Barack for her campaign.  

Missile Defense

The Wall Street Journal reported today that NATO countries have endorsed a U.S. missile defense system.  (Link here.)  I only have one question: Why?  Let's think about this.  There are nine countries with nuclear stockpiles: U.S., Russia, U.K., France, China, India, Pakistan, North Korea, and Israel.  Out of these countries I could only imagine Pakistan possibly launching a missile in Europe's direction and that would only occur if radical elements got a hold of the launch key.  So NATO'S fears are founded on one country who hasn't been admitted to the club.  You guessed it, Iran.  According to President Bush, Iran has a missile which has a 1200 mile range, which  turns out is just enough to reach Romania.  Now we've all seen news reports of the crazy Shia in Tehran shouting, "Death to Romania.  Nuke Romania"  Oh, wait, we haven't.  In any case, do you believe that Iran would send a missile?  News flash: radar can now detect where missiles come from.  You  know what that means, if Iran launches a missile then we make Iran go bye bye.  Now instead of a system that knocks down missiles that will never be launched, how about spending the money focusing on European points of entry that are harder to detect a device's origin, say ports.  I'm no terrorist, but if I were, I wouldn't launch a missile from my country, I'd sneak a bomb in that would be harder to detect.  Now let's hope that doesn't happen.

3 A.M.

I just watched a Hillary Clinton TV spot.  As the proud owner of a DVR, I rarely see commercials except during sporting events and those times when I'm too high to realize the program I was watching went to a commercial.  I happened to catch this on a drudge report link.    This is one of those spots that talks about events happening at 3 A.M., in this case, our national economic crisis.  Now I know that our economy isn't in great shape.  Prices for food and fuel are skyrocketing while the housing market is in the shitter.  But who is going to call the President of the United States at 3 A.M. to tell them this?   Isn't this news that could have been relayed hours ago or waited until morning?  And why 3 A.M.?  Is this the new witching hour?  As a bartender in Los Angeles, the city that always sleeps, I can tell you not much goes on at that specified time.  Even the Northridge Quake last millennium (was it that long ago) didn't happen until 4:30 in the morning.  I find it ironic that the candidate who is being asked to drop out of the race is staying in and putting out dopey spots like this.  As if some steel worker in Altoona is gonna watch this ad and say, "I was gonna vote for the colored guy but I don't know if he can fix the economy at 3 A.M."  There you go, Hillary, keep plugging along.  It's 3 A.M. do you know what your chances of being nominated are?