Never Too Late

I was thinking yesterday about a "Saturday Night Live" sketch from 1991 or '92. It was about a presidential primary debate, and the joke was that the ultimate outcome of the election was a foregone conclusion, so none of the primary candidates actually wanted to be nominated and incur the fate of facing certain defeat in the general election. It was a very funny sketch, even if one isn't familiar with the people involved.

The merits of the sketch aside, it now mainly serves as a historical curiosity, since it is predicated on beliefs that since proved incorrect. Those primary candidates needn't have been afraid after all, as George H.W. Bush ultimately proved vulnerable and in fact was defeated by Bill Clinton. The week of the show in which the sketch was presented, however, no one could have know that would happen. Bush looked very popular.

Bad Times

As I write this, the shutdown of the US government has entered its second day. By the time you read this, it will probably be in its third day, but I sincerely hope it is somehow over by then. It's obviously a very bad thing, but it is not at all a simple thing (evidenced by the fact that this "shutdown" leaves many of the tangible signs that we have a federal government intact. We are still getting mail and being protected by a standing army, but we do not get to see the pandas at the national zoo, for example).

It seems that the shutdown itself, while not great, is also not itself the absolutely worst thing. We've gotten through shutdowns before. Who on Earth remembers the hardships of the last one, waged between Bill Clinton and Speaker Newt Gingrich? I remember it happening, but I would be hard-pressed to name one thing about it that that made life worse during that time. So far little of what I've read about sounds bad unless you happen to work for the federal government.

Down A Notch

The other day I was in downtown LA. I had finished improv practice, and decided before I went home that I would visit the nearby bookstore as I have before. On the way to that bookstore (where I bought another seven VHS tapes) and on the way from it to the subway station, I saw an awful lot of what looked like protesters. Indeed, I saw more of them even after I'd gotten off the subway back in my own neighborhood of North Hollywood.

They were carrying signs that appeared to signal their dislike of the Monsanto corporation. This is one of those things that I don't understand as well as I ought to, but many people probably do not let that get in the way of taking action. Anyway, I gather that people don't care for the genetic modification of what becomes their food. It seems less simple than that or than these people make it out to be, but I don't say they're wrong. They're probably more right than wrong.

A Talk On Not Talking

With the election done with, we ought to be able to enjoy a subsidence in political debate. The reality is that it will not be much of one, and may not last for long. However long we do manage to talk less about politics, we will probably not accomplish any less with it. We just don't seem to get anywhere in talking about politics. For my part, I try to avoid it, but all too often find myself ensnared in the futility anyway.

Of course I don't bring politics up, which is enough some of the time. If it does come up, I try to find some sort of common ground rather than trying to impose my point of view. I'm just not going to have my way. I've never been good at persuading people of something. What I can do all right is find some figment of something I can agree on so that the conversation is a little less unpleasant so long as it goes on.

The Last Night Before The Next

The election and the campaign leading up to it are finally over, thank God. Somehow there will be no respite, I'm sure. I got through the night watching partly at home and partly at a Mexican restaurant which erupted in cheers at the news that the president had obtained the required 270 electoral votes to secure re-election. That was a pleasant enough way to endure what had been a rather anxious experience.

I had read of election viewing parties, but the idea did not appeal to me. My politics were an open book when I was in college, but I play it closer to the vest every time around. It's not so much that I fear persecution exactly. I don't relish political discussions even among those with whom I agree, and this is so for a number of reason. There are more pleasant things to talk about, and more constructive things as well.

Two Signs

One of the things that I noticed when I went to visit back home was all the political campaign stuff. They love the roadside signs back home. There are crowds of them every place that it is legal to put them, or it at least seems that way. There is relatively little variety to them, and so I am tempted to vote for anyone who makes stylistically bold choices. There was someone who went with orange and mustard yellow as dominant colors several years ago, it seems to me. I liked that.

This time around, I saw something very interesting. It was actually an advertisement by a local sushi restaurant that explicitly endorsed Barack Obama. I thought that was bold, but unquestionably bad business, especially in suburban Phoenix. That had to cost way more prospective customers than it could possibly gain. I wouldn't even have recommended that in nominal college town Tempe. As it turned out, it wasn't what it seemed.

Unrequited Love

I like less and less to get political, but occasionally there's an angle that I like enough to get into it. Every element of life has become tragically politicized, all the way down to the food we eat. Who'd have guessed that chicken would become a battleground for civil rights? Another curious front for the tug-of-war between left and right occurs in the realm of music, and it is rather one-sided. Still, it's a compelling subject to me.

When candidates for elective office campaign, they'll have these big, noisy spectacular events to win the affections of voters. You might think that between the candidate's speeches and the voters there to hear them there'd be enough noise, but they like to have music. Regrettably, it's not live music. Instead, they play recorded music meant to gin up overwrought emotions properly. To their credit, they pick a lot of good music.

A Day

Lately I have had reason to spend a lot of time in downtown LA. That neighborhood, like most in the metro area, is a mixed bag. As it happens, I have found myself in one of the nicer sections of it, and I have relished the opportunity to avail myself of its eateries and cultural highlights (although I have missed more than I have managed to get to). On the whole I have become more acquainted with the erstwhile city center in a positive way.

The timing of my gravitation towards the area coincides with that phenomenon common to a number of the nation's most prominent cities, 'Occupy Wall Street'. I think they must tailor the name to the actual place of the protests in question, or else the title is a misnomer in more cases than it is an apt name. In any case, I have had occasion to see things that I would otherwise not have made the trip downtown to see. It's been quite an experience.

Flagging Professionalism

When I was in Boy Scouts, I had many skills pounded into me. Many of them didn't stick. I am in truth not the best at making fires and tying knots, although I have generally been able to re-teach myself when necessary. I also never cottoned to some of the values espoused, but other I still believe in. One in particular has to do with respect for the flag, and I'm sorry to say that the places which fly it around here are not too fervent about that.

There are a lot of rules, there's no denying that. The flag can't touch the ground. It always has to be lit up, either by the sun or artificial lighting. In the absence of light, it should be taken down, and when it eventually becomes visibly worn out, it must be retired. The proper procedure for retirement is awfully involved. You have to separate out the white strips, the red stripes, the white stars and the blue field behind them, then burn each group individually. It all requires effort.

Come Clean

As I write this, the United States is in economic turmoil of great severity (though God willing it's pulled out of it in the few days it took for this to be published). A deal was made a few days ago to lower the budget deficit and raise the debt ceiling. Much of the deal revolved around cuts to the budget, though consideration was given to the other possibility. Now, I know what I call that other possibility, but I wondered if I were just plain crazy, because throughout the debate no one uttered the word taxes.

Instead what was said over and over by everyone as the counterbalance to budget cuts was increasing revenue, or just 'revenue'. I know what that means to me. It's a general term for all means of income to the nation. Were these people suggesting that we close the budget gap with ATF auctions or a renewed campaign to sell stamps? That would fall under the category of 'revenue', as would selling lemonade and holding bikini carwashes. Alas, I gather they meant no such thing.

I Just Want The Sticker

Election Day came around a few days ago, and perhaps it remains a subject of some interest today. I was thinking about my personal history of voting, which goes back to 2002. As of the historic and controversial election of November 2000, I was some three months too young to vote. In truth, I had yet at that point to develop any severe interested in politics or self-determination. The dramatic events which unfolded in that season were exciting, but had no more bearing on the future in my mind than did a hit TV show. I soon learned to be sorry I had been unable to have my say, and anticipated most eagerly my first opportunity to do so, which was to come two years later. At long last the day came, and I marched off to the polling place with the Arizona Republic's list of endorsements in hand. I followed them more closely than I now wish I had.

In the years since, I have managed to vote in every single election I was aware of except one. It may make me sound spacey to say that I haven't been aware of every single election, but you'd be surprised how many little ones of a single issue slip under the radar with no promotion or analysis whatsoever. Today I use a mail ballot exclusively, as I never am sure whether I will find myself engaged in some activity that doesn't permit me to reach my polling place during its operating hours, but find that I often must go to the polling place anyway after having procrastinated on mailing in my ballot. I missed one major election owing to being away from home and having neglected to take care of my mail ballot. It remains a sore subject with me.

Mark Sanford

I've been following the story of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford's disappearance with interest. For a time, there was no explanation of his whereabouts. Indeed, no one, not even his immediate family knew. We then got a few conflicting reports. The story now is that he has been hiking the Appalachian Trail. Alternately, however, we have been told that he was writing and that he was finishing up projects. Any of these explanations, in the absence of the others, would probably satisfy, but all together, they are suspicious.