A Christmas Gift for You: Sweet Videos Edition

Hopefully by the time you read this, you'll be well on your way to celebrating the birth of the Eight Pound, Six Ounce, Newborn Baby Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant, so cuddly, but still omnipotent. Its another year down, and I hope you're enjoying it with friends or family, or whatever else you choose.

Like the landmark Phil Spector album, "A Christmas Gift for You," gave you the greatest collection of Christmas music put on one record (and which is not the Charlie Brown Christmas Special Soundtrack), I've tried to assemble some fine Christmas videos to enhance your morning. Enjoy!

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The King knows a little something about Christmas tuneage:




Not exactly sure who was more messed up when they filmed this one, Bing or the Thin White Duke. Totally surreal.



Dean and Frank together. Look out ladies, its a Swingin' Christmas. I used to watch the Dean Martin Show with Mom. She liked Dino; I liked the Golddiggers.



Miss Piggy sure knows how to get down at Christmas time



Oh its Christmas at the Playhouse, and we're gonna have a lot of fun!



Don't forget our Jewish friends this Christmas. True, they may have whacked our Saviour, but let's let bygones be bygones.




And don't forget all your friends in Hell either.



What Christmas is all about.



Its about dancing at the Christmas rave!



The greatest song on A Christmas Gift For You-"Baby Please Come Home" Ooohhhh Baby!




With my last sweet video I wanted to say something personal. I posted this last year, but really, this pretty much sums up everything I feel about Christmas. Hope everyone has a beautiful Christmas.

Travelin' Man

I will not make any deals with you. I've resigned. I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own.

--The Prisoner

After all the highways, and the trains, and the appointments, and the years, you end up worth more dead than alive.

--Willy Loman, Death of a Salesman


Big ups to Arthur Miller for being a total literary geek but still managing to pull the then-“Most Beautiful Woman in the World” (this just in Art, Joe DiMaggio’s dead but he still hates you for coming up on Marilyn like that. Almost as much as he hates the Kennedys for having her whacked). But how about not giving away the entire story in the title of your play? Why even go? You know what’s going to happen. Some salesman will die. When Willy comes on stage at the beginning of Act I, you pretty much know he’s toast. So like the guy next to you in Vietnam (or any Dallas Cowboys coach), there’s no point in getting close to him because you know he’s not going to be there very long. You’re not supposed to give away the whole story, either in the trailer or the titles. What if they’d called it “Rhett Leaves Scarlett,” or “Darth is Luke’s Father,” or “Iceman Can Be My Wingman Anytime”? Why even go to the show? Those kinds of titles are a lot like the literal Japanese or Hindi or other Asian language translations of American movies whose titles don’t translate so they just describe what happens in the movie. Like “Rebellious Catholic Woman Who Makes Happy Happy Song With Sailor and Children.” Or “Children of Honorable Father Make Revenge Against Unworthy Families.” Or “Ninja Sorcerer In Curtain Yells to Child-Girl and Dog.” Or “Flame Head Woman Gives Businessman Lotus Esprit Trip and Rub of Delight.” ($50 and an autographed copy of my law review article to the first person who can identify all these movies. And by that, I mean I'll buy you a drink).

Well once again I’ve gotten off to a bad start. In this season of travel, I want to talk about traveling in the 21st Century after 9/11. Admittedly, I dip my toe into the Alex Jones Crazy Pool, but please indulge me a bit.

Responding to hundreds of “imprisonment on the tarmac” instances, the Department of Transportation just issued new rules fining airlines $27,500/passenger for any flight that departs the gate and does not take off within three hours (subject to certain exceptions). The rules also require the airlines to provide food and water to all passengers after two hours, and to keep the restrooms functioning. Everyone’s heard the horror stories about people being trapped on planes for hours, without food and water but with failing restrooms and with passengers being unable to make calls, with the airline refusing to at least bring the plane back to the gate so that passengers can at least enjoy a little bit of convenience while waiting. According to the DOT, 613 flights were delayed and sitting on the tarmac more than three hours in the first six months of 2009. The airlines fought the regulations, citing an increase in flight cancellations if required to comply. They cite things out of their control such as congested and ineffective air traffic controls, and urge that travelers might be forced to endure flight cancellations and overnight stays as a consequence.

Remember when it was fun to fly? You’d dress up because it was a special event. The airport was a sparkling building that ran efficiently and effectively. The airline employees were especially helpful, and you’d get all kinds of freebies as part of your experience. Especially on Southwest Airlines or Braniff Airlines, smokin’ hot babe stewardesses, not today's matronly flight attendants with drill instructor charm, would cater to your requests. Seats were comfortable, waiting times slight, direct flights were plentiful, and food was served (even if not exactly haute cuisine, you still got something to eat). In short, it was a civilized experience.

Those were the days. Have you noticed the weekday crowds in major American airports lately? You’ll notice the crowds of beaten, weary, broken, humbled and abused travelers. Garbed in rumpled clothes, laden like pack mules with too-expensive-to-check luggage, and with that fine facial sheen that comes from being trapped like veal in recirculated air for the last three hours (Kimberly calls that condition "bus face"), your fellow travelers look like the undead wandering through the ethereal plane, desperate for sweet death. Its like being at a Coldplay concert.

The airlines, FAA, TSA, and local governments (which operate airports) have created a system that couldn’t be more suited to humiliating and breaking the people whom it theoretically serves. Travelers must present themselves, quietly and passively, for inspection. Must go where they’re told. Questioning is harshly punished. Travelers must please the workers and apologize for imposing on their time. Prices on everything are inflated, and everything beyond obtaining the smallest conceivable chair on the plane requires additional payment. Flights are delayed and cancelled with no notice, and travelers are largely left to fend for themselves. People are shunted about like cattle in a holding pen. You have to get to the airport early so you won’t miss getting to sit through the inevitable delays. Restaurant options (which became necessary in the 1980s when airlines phased out direct flights and made “hub” airports the newest form of waiting rooms, and which thrive as a consequence of interminable flight delays), bring familiar homogenized American chain-style blandness to travelers in scaled down form (“Chili’s To Go”). Can there please be one airport in America where its possible to get a Diet Coke and not just Diet Pepsi? When you finally get on board, you must assume the fetal position in a medium sized-box area space (seat back upright) like you’re traveling in steerage on the Titanic. You must remain in that seat the entire flight, risking federal prosecution to use the bathroom because the captain never turns off the “seat belt” sign (as the air waitresses parade up and down the aisle like they’re walking through a Nordstrom’s shoe sale-the guys, that is). The whole flight experience is a lot like prison. Or mass. Actually, the parallels between the penitentiary and Roman Catholicism are extensive, but on Christmas Eve, I’ll tip my cap to White Jesus and let that one go (“Black Jesus,” of course, being Vince Young, signed, Austin sports radio talk show caller).

I’m a little surprised the free market hasn’t bit into some of this. One would think that a “comfort airline” could make a go of it. I’d pay more to fly an airline that didn’t treat me like bananas on a steamer leaving Manila FOB Long Beach. In a sense, Southwest Airlines is about as close as it gets, in not charging the bogus baggage charges ostensibly imposed to recover increased fuel costs when gasoline prices ran up above $4.20/gallon last year, but which have not given way now that fuel costs have dropped by half. Southwest’s employees are still relatively approachable, and it appears to respond somewhat to consumer demand trends. Otherwise, the airlines, ever dependent on federal bailout money, continue their trend to parse and re-price their services at the most granular level. Charging for blankets and pillows? What’s next, charging to use the seat pocket? The market actually has responded, but in a way that has the airlines charging premium prices for things like blankets or telephone access to human beings that used to be provided as part of your ticket price. Premium pricing options have become the rage, with upgrades to first class, quick security screening, immediate access to actual customer service employees, membership in the airline’s “club” where one can wait in an environment not reminiscent of Lagos International Airport. But there’s still an insurmountable problem reminiscent of the old blonde joke-its still the same crappy plane going to the same place as all the human cargo that didn’t pay extra to get there. That means you’re subject to the same forced march exercise and threat of sitting on the tarmac for hours that everyone who didn’t pay extra has to endure.

This all takes a toll on people forced to endure it day after day, year after year. The business traveler gives up years off his life in this slow death march. The odd thing is that technology has made most of these trips unnecessary. Technology should have eliminated them, with video conferencing, web-based document sharing, texting, e-mails, and other means to review documents and see your meeting participants’ physical reactions to the discussion. That travel continues to such a great extent defies the corporate cutback culture that has left us all scheming for ways to steal paper clips and note pads from our co-workers (now that Accounting won’t authorize new purchases).

Meeting by phone or video does lose a lot of the critical physical cues and body language communication gained from in-person meetings. Being in the same room provides context, and allows a certain type of intimacy that no video link could ever provide. This could be just about anything-handshakes, showing pictures of your kids, seeing someone’s surroundings (pictures, knick-knacks) and getting a better understanding of their personality. Personally, I avoid meetings at all costs. The prospect of having to spend an hour or more staring across the room at a bunch of engineers or lawyers, each of whom sporting a walrus-like paunch and wearing that pre-seizure look of foreboding while being riveted on the figures in column 5 or deciding where the comma should go. I’ll tell you where the comma should go.

Instead of technology freeing the business traveler, he’s instead wrestled it to the ground and made it do his bidding. Ever-shrinking laptops designed to fit ever-shrinking “tray table” space, blackberries, wireless cards, USB pin drives, texts. All allow the business traveler of 2009 to be self-contained small mobile offices. It’s the ultimate extension of Al Franken’s old SNL one-man mobile news crew. So the salesmen shuffles along like lemmings to the cliff at airports around the country, each day giving themselves up to the TSA cattle prods, occasionally becoming incarcerated on the tarmac while it rains (or Bill Clinton gets a haircut).

This is all about control, you know. They want everyone under their control. From the airlines to TSA to the airport authorities, they all want to know everything about you, force you into docility and shake you down at every turn. Its far easier to transport cabbages than thinking human beings questioning why the hundreds and often thousands of dollars they’re paying to travel gets them service that every 7-11 clerk ever born thinks is subpar. No one can complain about their treatment, and even questioning runs the risk of TSA or FBI inquisition. Its like the airline industry has used 9/11 as a pretext to remodel itself along the 1970s Aeroflot business model. Obey or be taken out.

This mirrors our society in general. Government interferes in virtually all your choices. You want to pay an extremely low amount for housing? Too bad. For your own good, you must pay for housing that complies with building codes designed for your safety. Want to buy “unhealthy” food because its all you can afford? Too bad. Cities are banning the sales of certain unworthy foods. Want to buy a car as cheaply as possible? Too bad. Your car has to have meet all the latest engineering and safety specifications, for your safety. Want to select your own doctors or decide whether to purchase health insurance? Not anymore. The Government has made that choice for you. Government protects your safety, whether you can afford it or not. In so doing, it sets boundaries on what you can have and what you may not. Not sure Thomas Jefferson had this in mind.

Control comes in the form of tracking too. Cross a toll bridge and use a toll tag, and it creates a record of your travel. Use a cell phone, send a text message, receive a fax, visit a web site, make a purchase with a credit card…you’re creating a trail about your life which prosecutors and other government officials frequently try to obtain to put you away or levy penalties. Government uses all these millions of bits of data to track our comings and goings, and “protect” us against threats they never quite get around to defining when asked to explain. “I've miles and miles of files, pretty files of your forefather's fruit, and now to suit our great computer, You're magnetic ink.” The problem is that the control ethos has permeated corporate culture as well, with companies buying and selling this kind of data, to shape advertising, product development, and target specific consumers. Corporate consolidation, egged on by increasing regulatory burdens, have promoted uniformity, stagnation, and mediocrity. Every now and then a startup breaks through and remakes an industry. Usually the regulators are several steps behind, complaining that the new company (like Apple, Microsoft, Intel, or the like) must be stopped or it will “ruin competition.” Some incentive for innovation.

Ultimately, this is all about freedom. It’s hard to truly be free when you can make any choice you want, but the menu of choices is curtailed, and when someone somewhere knows every move you make. If you wanted to drop out and run away, you couldn’t do it. You must present appropriate identity to board any public conveyance. Charge cards, cell phones, toll tags, and banking records would create a record that can be used to track your every move. And yet, they still can't find Bin Laden. Maybe if he bounced a check....

However (or as Stephen A. Smith would say, HOWEVAH), having created such a quagmire through its own interventions, one really cannot legitimately object in this instance to these new rules. Ordinarily its right to object to the Government rushing in to regulate to protect us from making our own choices. But when an industry like the airlines have gone so far into the federal bailout money trough, it can hardly complain when the Government insists that it live by certain conditions. It seems only fair not to give the airlines millions to keep them from going bankrupt (largely due to their own ineptitude) and ask that in return they not hold passengers captive on the tarmac. Companies actually welcome most regulation of the sort imposed on airlines because it tends to keep out competitors that can’t endure start up costs and comply with copious regulations while getting off the ground (no pun intended). The airlines largely benefit from extensive FAA and DOT regulation, so, again, they can hardly complain about Government regulating to set certain minimum service conditions, or intruding on a free market that the regulation they desire artificially distorts the market and keeps out competition that might force them to making changes that would benefit consumers.

Where does that leave us? The DOT is stepping in to protect us from a problem it helped foster, with regulations that make it difficult for new carriers to enter the market, subsidies to inefficient airline companies, and to inefficient and ineffective air traffic controls. Willy Loman thanks you kindly.

Next-A Christmas Gift For You

New Photos

Just wanted to let you know I've added some more photos on my flickr site. The first batch is from a fun trip to San Antonio a couple of weekends ago to meet Cici and her family and go see the Riverwalk Christmas lights. You may recall I did this last year too. Its becoming something of an annual tradition. Little Nina was especially cute this year, just like every year. We took in the lights from a river barge, so I didn't get to photograph many of the lights themselves (we were moving, the photos were blurry). But there's still some fun shots.

The second batch is from around town. Austin always bursts in colors in the spring when the wildflowers bloom, but apparently the drought, followed by early September rain, has brought us some amazing color in the late fall. Pear trees, plum trees, and various others that I don't recognize, have turned into brilliant shades of red and gold. All over town we can see these vivid colors.

Finally, there's some photos of this year's scaled down Austin Trail of Lights. The city nixed the gargantuan trail that has taken over Zilker Park the last few years in favor of this more modest version. They kept the famous Zilker Christmas Tree, pictured above, and a few of the exhibits from the old trail of lights. Had I never seen the old trail, I'd have thought this was just fine. My photos turned out a lot better this year (i.e. not as blurry) as years past.

Hope you enjoy! Also hope everyone has a great Christmas!

The Don and Birdie Reeder Global Emergency Fund: First Year Report

As we head into this special time of paying attention to our tax issues, errr, helping the less fortunate, I thought it was time to report on the one project in which I’ve been able to help people just a teeny tiny bit (I know, you’d think that being the Fonzie of the electric utility legal practice and dropping well-placed “that’s what she said” remarks would be enough. Sadly, we live in a world where that’s just not enough).

Many of you may recall that the Don and Birdie Reeder Global Emergency Fund began helping children throughout the world last year. Administered by Children’s Emergency Relief International, based in Kingwood, this fund’s primary goal is to provide resources to children and adolescents with emergency and imminent needs. Many of you were kind enough to contribute in memory of my mother. In cooperation with our former pastor, Dr. Dearing Garner, we hoped through this fund to continue the work of my Mom and Dad, who for many years went on mission trips throughout the world focused on helping children. In the time since her passing, I’ve realized that Mom’s main purpose in life was to be a beacon to children, giving them love and teaching them respect. Dr. Garner led those mission trips and knew my mother since 1978. He’s in charge of every penny spent from the fund, and as he told me the other day, he always asks “what would Birdie want” whenever making these decisions. I could not ask for a better steward for the Fund or shepherd for its recipients.

As it has developed, the Fund addresses conditions that make children in many parts of the world vulnerable to trafficking. This includes not only for sexual purposes but for labor as well. The practice is particularly intense in eastern Europe, Asia, and South Africa, and in any place afflicted with poverty or large numbers of uncared for orphans. Many governments have signed treaties banning trafficking, but this evil practice continues to flourish for many reasons.

CERI participates with many local-based child welfare and assistance organizations throughout the world, to work in partnership with these organizations to help children, particularly orphaned or abandoned children. Especially in places like Moldova, governments often are content to warehouse children then turn them loose on the street at 14 or so where they become vulnerable to traffickers.

CERI has made available resources from the Reeder Fund in a fairly targeted way. It has initiated programs to help children transitioning out of orphanages into homes or other facilities, such that they can live and grow into adulthood while continuing their education or acquiring work skills. The alternatives are often bleak-begging or going off with strangers promising to take care of them (which often turns out to be child traffickers). CERI and its partners have started “transitional living programs” for these youth, helping to ease them out of orphanages, then ultimately into mainstream society.

The Reeder Fund has been used in support of this program. CERI has used the fund to provide for emergencies or immediate needs for many of this program’s participants. Funds have been spent in Moldova, a former Soviet republic, and Nigeria, as well as on a water project in Sri Lanka.

On both the plus and minus side, there’s a surprising amount of money remaining in the fund. I had feared that they’d blow through the fund fairly quickly. However, it’s been a bit of a challenge to get the local directors to ask for the money. They’ve had something of a resistance to leaning too heavily on outside resources. We are working to make them more aware of the Fund and encourage them to request resources from it. I’m meeting again with Dr. Garner before the end of the year, and I think we may also liberalize some of the restrictions on the Fund, such that the “emergency” need not be so immediate. This would allow us to spend the money more freely on children in need.

The Fund’s first year has been a huge success in the way that Miss Birdie would have appreciated. More great things are on the horizon throughout the world, and this money will further work that will make a positive and dramatic difference in children's lives. That’s exactly what my Mom would have wanted.

For more information about the work of this Fund or CERI, you can visit http://www.cerikids.org/ceri/. Or just click that link.

Thanks so much to all of you who donated. Hopefully this lets you know your gift has helped.

Eatin' Food at a Trailer and Livin' the High Life

My proudest moment here wasn't when I increased profits by 17%, or cut expenditure without losing a single member of staff. No no no. It was a young Guatemalan guy, first job in the country, barely spoke a word of English, but he came to me and said "Mr. Scott, will you be the godfather to my child?" Didn't work out in the end. We had to let him go. He sucked.

--Michael Scott, “The Office”

Business demands utter ruthlessness, just like what Michael Scott brings to the table every day. Unfortunately, its only by everyone acting in their own self-interest can a capitalistic system perform the task of rationally allocating goods and services. This is what the government (whichever party's in power) forgets in its zeal to keep every major employer from failing, and simultaneously as it loads up taxes and regulations on small businesses.

Here at Daily Affirmations, we see the major “problem” with things like health care costs, energy costs, failing education and other deteriorating public services, not so much as a problem of market failure, but political failure. This idea that we have unfettered free market health care, or insurance, or energy simply ignores the extensive and pervasive regulatory control imposed on these major industries in the name of protecting the public from itself. Parentalism has shackled the free market from self-correcting abuses that will naturally occur in any economy, whether a Soviet-style command and control economy, or a Texas-style capitalist economy. Texas probably has the least pervasive governmental intrusion into the economy. The recession also has affected Texas less than most other states. Not exactly a one-to-one causal relationship, but Texas businesses were better poised to adapt and survive than elsewhere because, quite frankly, we didn’t have to get as many permits. Energy costs are outrageously high? The market, without blundering bureaucratic intrusion to “protect” the public, solves that problem by the high prices stimulating suppliers to expand their output and expand refining and transportation capacity, and stimulating consumers to adjust their behavior. Bureaucrats try to solve that problem with rationing, investigations, price controls, and other measures that impress unions and MoveOn.org, but suppress the market forces that otherwise would correct the problem. Same thing with health insurance costs. Normally if something costs “too much,” new companies enter the market and undercut the market price. But because states so heavily regulate insurance, companies cannot easily enter the insurance market and offer competitive rates and terms. The existing insurers then spend millions to curry favor with politicians and regulators to protect their near-monopoly status, reaping non-competitive profits and failing to meet consumer expectations. Drugs too expensive? Unreasonably long patent protections, far more lengthy than needed for firms to recover their costs, make it difficult for competitors to drive down prices. The same story can be told across the board.

But people seem to have made up their minds about whether the government can help us.

Nonetheless, consider three fascinating examples from right here in Travis County, Texas, in the very heart of the People’s Republic of Austin, of how capitalism isn’t a bunch of white guys in Armani suits and $500 haircuts riding around in limos and defrauding the stockholders. These are three of millions of examples that capitalism is millions of individuals and partnerships having a great idea that would help people, and going into business to make a living filling that need.

Trailer food. Its not just a Robert Earl Keen song anymore. Who knew that you could just get yourself a trailer, park it wherever you could find an empty space, and make money selling awesome food right out of the window? Like fire ants, food trailers have invaded Austin, popping up all over town. They first clustered in empty lots on hipster chic South Congress Avenue, selling everything from designer cupcakes to cheesecake to hamburgers to tacos. Then they began to spread to South 1st and South Lamar (how yuppie is 78704 all of a sudden? Bubba moved north to Burnet Road about the time Truck City moved to Buda, replaced by a bunch of boutiques and organic food stores. Stevie Ray used to live in 78704, not far from my house; as he once sang, the sky is crying). But think of it. Pull over to various otherwise empty lots, and you can get yourself a deluxe, fresh cooked burger, or sandwich, or cupcake, or donut, or pizza slice, or any other of a million different offerings. The trailers usually have a little eating area, are clustered near other popular destinations, and are easily accessed. They provide a use for otherwise unused property. Because their owners do not incur the overhead expense of a “storefront,” they can be cost competitive with other established “brick and mortar” establishments. And because they generally are located near some other popular destination, they afford people with an eating option convenient to something else they’re doing. The donut trailer close to my house on South Lamar, Gourdough’s, is an illustrative example. These guys were living in New York, thought they’d enjoy living in Austin and knew how to make really cool donuts one at a time, so they headed down, put together some money, and now they’re running a thriving business. No banks, no construction, no promotional campaign, just tasty eatin’.

Pedicabs. Ever been to one of the bigger Austin events, like Fourth of July fireworks or ACL festival, or gone to see the bats on Congress Avenue? Have you noticed those freaks riding bicycles with a couple of seats in the back, ferrying people back and forth like a bunch of rickshaws outside the old Caravelle Hotel in Saigon. Usually its some quasi-musician or graduate philosophy student trying to earn extra money. To avoid costly city regulations as “taxicabs,” which are in part meant to deter entry and thereby artificially restrict taxicab competition, the drivers will not charge a fare but they do ask for tips, which does not subject them to the regulations. The pedicabs obviously do not have a great range, but they take very short trips that the taxicabs will not, such as between a parking lot and a downtown destination. This might be too great a distance to walk for some (especially for an event where one is nicely dressed), but too short a distance to hail a cab. We know that the city legally requires taxis to take any paying fare, but it simply does not enforce this rule. So these pedicabs fill a definite need that the market has not otherwise met and which government regulations exacerbate.

Time exchange. This isn’t necessarily an Austin-specific phenomenon, but Austin is leading the way in the electronic barter economy. These people are also freaks, but I guess that’s what they said about Thomas Edison. Time exchanges allow people to trade goods and services without using currency (and, presumably, without having to report income to taxing authorities). The rules of the Austin Time Exchange are that they have a “skills bank,” which lists various goods and services that the members offer to others within the network. When one performs a service, it creates an “exchange share” that one may later redeem for another service. Or, one can bank the share indefinitely. Now, I still can’t figure out whether this currency-less transaction medium has any real advantages or not, but if the people making these exchanges think they do, then they do. In short, this is another innovative way for making transactions developed in response to unfilled needs within the existing markets.

These three examples, and countless others one observes on a daily basis, all represent the work of private individuals looking out for their own self-interests, trying to make a buck. No government program subsidizes any of these market innovations. There’s no glorified “public-private partnership” behind any of these. Rick Perry and John Cornyn didn’t have to play the Phil Gramm card and charter a plane at taxpayer expense to fly somewhere and make a “major state announcement” taking credit for them. Kirk Watson didn't have to invite himself to get between various governmental factions to "make the deal happen." These people just had a good idea, scraped together some money and did it. Kind of like how Apple Computers got started in Steve Jobs’ basement.

Small business is still the engine of our economy. As we focus these days on trillion dollar government bailout plans geared toward the largest corporate monoliths, let’s try to remember not to make it impossible for the average Joe or Jane with a good idea to start up a business and see it take off, in the process giving consumers additional choices, creating more jobs, and providing people with a living.

The Origin of the Oklahoma Sooners' White Helmets

A friend of mine on a "social networking site" (as does Robie Childers, we'll call it "My Face"), pondered last Saturday whether paint had made it to Oklahoma by the time of the throwback helmets the Sooners were wearing while flopping like beached jellyfish against the Texas Tech Sand Aggies. Seeing the sarcasm equivalent of single coverage on Andre Johnson fall into my lap, I went for the quick six. It helped that I was sitting in a completely boring continuing legal education class and needed some way to stay awake. Normally I'd consider it a breach of the Daily Affirmations rules to post something that I wrote elsehere, but I do feel that you folks need some schooling on Oklahoma Sooner traditions. So here goes:

Other than war paint and whitewash, the first recorded use of paint in Oklahoma was 1978, when a truck carrying a shipment of Glidden flat red oveturned and stained several nearby covered wagons. The locals were mesmerized, chanting "oombagay" which means "that reminds me of the hill behind my meth lab" in the native Oklahoman. A citizen posse was formed to petition the Bootlegger's Boy (B. Switzer) to add this color to the Sooners' traditional headdress. The Oklahoma Museum of Natural History stages re-enactments of this event on alternate Thursdays, or when that day's quota of cousins have finished their weddings.

Let me know if I can answer any other questions you may have.

Next-free market capitalism solves nearly all of life's problems, aka, "trailer food"

Running With the Devil; Welcome to the San Antonio Half Marathon. Also, check out PlacidAthlete.com

The 2009 San Antonio Marathon. I ran the Half. Holy Schnikees! Was that a marathon or a patrol on the Ho Chi Minh Trail? Instead of the 34 degree day they had last year, it was in the lower 70s and humid. Perfect conditions for a flame-out, and that's just what happened to me at Mile 7. Still, I managed to finish the race and ran the entire route, probably more depleted and exhausted than I've ever been. Nonetheless, there was one silver lining: unlike my run in the Austin Half Marathon two years ago, I felt no unusual soreness. No knee or hip pain. The structure did fine. I ran out of fuel and hydration.

This was a shame. The marathon and half marathon course was really nice. It was mostly flat or even downhill. Just a few little hills from time to time, such as around the King William district. The course also had some really nice scenery, winding past the old Pearl Brewery, the Alamo, King William, downtown, and the south part of downtown (which I'd never visited but seemed really cool). The course was also well supported. In the 13.1 mile half marathon, they had at least eight water/cytomax stops. Additionally, they had volunteers passing out Gu gel (for refueling) at the 11 mile mark and spraying us with water at around the 9 mile mark. I was shocked at how many people participated, as runners, volunteers or spectators. Approximately 30,000 entered the race (many walkers participated). But there appeared to be a small army of volunteers at the water stops, start and finish lines, and all along the course. Medical personnel were stationed all along the course. Even more impressively, spectators completely lined the route. I was running very slow, but it definitely made a big difference in my motivation that there were so many people cheering all along the route. At one point downtown, there were so many spectators cheering so loudly it was possible, for just a fleeting moment, to imagine I was among the leaders fighting hard to win the race. Reality quickly set back in of course, but there was a really great atmosphere all along the course. They all had signs. The best one of the day said "I thought it was 1.31 miles." (A half marathon is 13.1 miles).

The start and finish lines, however, were a bit of a different story. They started the race north of downtown near a park with no parking (ironically), so everyone was shuttle bussed in. Unfortunately, the last shuttle arrived at 6 a.m., but with the "wave start" I didn't cross the starting line until 8 a.m. That's two full hours of sitting around, followed by standing around in the "corral" waiting for my section to start the race.

Perhaps against my personality, I visited with some of the other contestants. There was a couple in their 60s from Kerrville, who had run several full marathons (including Boston), but were running in the half today so they could focus on another full marathon later in the year. Another woman from Houston visited with us. She left her husband and kids back home (just for the weekend, of course) while she came to run the half. I asked her how she trained for hills and she said she did the stairmaster. While waiting in the porta-potty line, I somehow situated myself in the middle of about eight ladies appearing to be in their mid-50s, all eagerly discussing the wedding that one of their sons was to have soon. Apparently their greatest consternation was deciding what to wear. Specifically, the mother of the groom was in a quandry about her attire. We joked a bit about how men never have this problem. "Wear a blue suit and a red tie and you're good anywhere" I remarked. She said if you're the mother of the groom, you have three jobs: "Show up, shut up, and wear beige." Still another lady, perhaps in her mid-60s, ran the entire marathon in bare feet. We and others around us had a long talk about this as we were waiting for the start. She's run several marathons in bare feet, and as I saw her later on the course, she appeared to have no problems. Apparently there's something of a movement centered on this now, having to do with modern running shoes unnaturally forcing the foot to land heel first rather than its biomechanically intended spot of landing mid-sole. We talked about how Ethiopian Abebe Bikila won the 1960 Olympic Marathon in Rome in his bare feet. Finally, I spotted a young woman wearing a pink baseball cap with the "TAB" logo on it. She said she bought it in Las Vegas. My dad, as most of you know, is a rabid TAB drinker. I think he keeps the brand alive singlehandedly. The finish line was outside the Alamodome and that was fairly chaotic too. Huge crowds thronged around the finish and around the "recovery area."

My hotel, the Sheraton Gunter, was great but unfortunately it was on the other side of downtown from the stadium, much closer to the Main Plaza than to the Alamodome. So after running 2 hours and 18 minutes, I had to slog through a 30 minute walk past the crowds back to the hotel. By that time it was around 11, one hour before check-out. I had to hustle to take a cold shower (shown lately to reduce inflammation and swelling), finish packing, and get out of the room.

I'd hoped to have lunch with my good friends Sean, Cici and little Nina Collard, but they had the crud that's going around. So instead I planted my butt on a barstool at a sports bar in La Cantera, had an enormous plate of shrimp jambalaya (with brown rice), and watched all the NFL games on the NFL Sunday Ticket. I then walked around the shops for awhile, just so I wouldn't get too sore from sitting around, then drove home in time to watch a great Patriots-Colts game (complete with Generalissimo Belicheck's now-infamous fourth down meltdown).

Although it was the most physically taxing thing I've ever done, I'm glad I ran the race. I got to see some parts of San Antonio that the tourists don't generally see, which were in their own way quite attractive. Looking forward to doing it again next year, to measure my training and conditioning during the coming year. As I've explained to my family, every year that goes by since my heart surgery seems like my "second chance" time; its an opportunity to reclaim the gift of physical activity that seemed likely to disappear from my life until my January 2005 procedure. I went from being unable to run a mile without extreme discomfort and chest pain to finishing a 13.1 mile race (for a second time). That really is a gift, and during this season its one for which I'm deeply thankful.

*********

One final thought, which you'll read more about soon. My good friend and colleague Suzanne Bertin, who has these past few years plunged deeply into the world of triathlons and is obtaining her certification as a triathlon coach, is starting a fitness blog entitled "Placid Athlete." Go to http://www.placidathlete.com, and check out her thoughts and advice on "serenity and life/work balance through physical fitness, emotional fitness, and good nutrition." Suzanne also has a site at www.twitter.com/placidathlete which I know you'll enjoy.

Whither Gay Marriage: Not That There's Anything Wrong With That

JOE: Hi, Jerry. Everything under control?
JERRY: Have I got things to tell you!
JOE: What happened?
JERRY: I'm engaged.
JOE: Congratulations. Who's the lucky girl?
JERRY: I am.
JOE: WHAT?
JERRY: Osgood proposed to me. We're planning a June wedding.
JOE: What are you talking about? You can't marry Osgood.
JERRY: You think he's too old for me?
JOE: Jerry! You can't be serious!
JERRY: Why not? He keeps marrying girls all the time!
JOE: But you're not a girl. You're a guy! And why would a guy want to marry a guy?
JERRY: Security.
JOE: Jerry, you'd better lie down. You're not doing well.
JERRY: Look, stop treating me like a child. I'm not stupid. I know there's a problem.
JOE: I'll say there is!
JERRY: His mother - we need her approval. But I'm not worried - because I don't smoke.
JOE: Jerry - there's another problem.
JERRY: Like what?
JOE: Like what are you going to do on your honeymoon?
JERRY: We've been discussing that. He wants to go to the Riviera - but I sort of lean toward Niagara Falls.
JOE :You're out of your mind! How can you get away with this?
JERRY: Oh, I don't expect it to last. I'll tell him the truth when the time comes.
JOE: Like when?
JERRY: Like right after the ceremony.
JOE Oh.
JERRY: Then we'll get a quick annulment - he'll make a nice settlement on me - I'll have those alimony checks coming in every month -
JOE: Jerry, listen to me - there are laws -conventions - it's just not being done!
JERRY: But Joe - this may be my last chance to marry a millionaire!
JOE: Look, Jerry - take my advice – forget the whole thing - just keep telling yourself you're a boy!
JERRY: I'm a boy - I'm a boy - I wish I were dead - I'm a boy - I'm a boy –

-- Some Like It Hot

Pretty ironic casting Tony Curtis as the paragon of heterosexual marriage. That guy jumped on anything that moved. Fish wouldn’t move in the tank when Tony Curtis visited.

I’ve been meaning to write about gay marriage since I was in New York during June, which coincided with the 40th anniversary of the “Stonewall Riots,” which as it turns out really was just a bunch of frustrated bar patrons throwing rocks at New York cops trying to shut down a Mafia-run gay bar that wasn't paying liquor taxes and was blackmailing Wall Street patrons.

What began as an incendiary political movement has apparently devolved into what can only charitably be called a totally jacked up annual Gay Pride Parade and freak show down 5th Avenue from near the Plaza all the way down Midtown, ironically in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, to the Village. At least one United States Senator marched in the parade, and it seemed like all of Manhattan was either in the parade or lining the routes. Everyone seemed to have a good time, especially the tourists checking out the interestingly clad men in the parade. Boss Tweed, however, was heard rolling rapidly in his grave.

It struck me that despite humorless Gay Protester Guy, public attitudes towards homosexuality have changed in this country with almost lightning speed (for such things). As recently as the 1970s, homosexuality was not publicly tolerated, and mere whispers that one was a homosexual could ruin one’s reputation and career. When Elton John acknowledged his “bisexuality” in 1975, his career immediately tanked. Up to the 1980s, most states still criminalized homosexual conduct, and while few prosecutions occurred then, its remarkable that less than 30 years and one Supreme Court case later, homosexuality is not only legal, but is so well accepted (or at least tolerated) publicly as to move many states towards legalizing gay marriage. If one thinks about how long it took this country to end slavery, enfranchise women and minorities, stop routinely tossing the mentally ill into prisons, or establish free public schools, the march of gay rights has been extraordinarily swift. In 1969, Easy Rider showed Louisiana rednecks killing two motorcycle riders because they had long hair. Now gay boys can swish around shirtless in the French Quarter in body paint and glitter, completely free from official retribution. Of course, the Quarter was always something of a sanctuary for at least intellectual homosexuals-Tennessee Williams comes most famously to mind.

Part of this rapid change stems from the fact that public attitudes toward homosexuality were never quite as vicious as they might have seemed. Homosexuals were tacitly tolerated “among us” to the extent they had the good taste not to flaunt or openly acknowledge their predilections. "We" felt license to laugh at them, and often along with them, feeling free to enjoy a Paul Lynde or Charles Nelson Reilley vamping it up, despite pretty much knowing which side they buttered their bread on. Americans idolized a number of stars whose manner and appearance should have left little doubt about their sexual preference-Sal Mineo, Montgomery Clift, Farley Granger, and most famously, Rock Hudson. Many, many others at least dabbled-Garbo, Katherine Hepburn, Joan Crawford, Olivier, even Brando. Liberace could be as soft as wet Charmin, but because he was generally liked, the public was content to not ask if he would not tell. The other was the AIDS epidemic. Ronald Reagan admitted that at first, he and his advisers actually giggled a bit when the subject came up. That was not necessarily a minority reaction. But then Magic Johnson, virile male basketball star, contracted the disease and at that point it seemed that mainstream America finally got it that this was a modern plague. That realization, and the fact that so many heterosexuals began contracting the disease, seemed to bridge whatever chasm existed between a lot of straight and gay Americans.

On and near the coasts, homosexuality is largely accepted. Many of these states and cities have passed “civil union” statutes or otherwise conferred certain civil benefits on homosexual partnerships. Attacks on homosexuals in many instances are classified as “hate crimes” garnering increased criminal sentences. In the heartland, or what Manhattanites call “campground,” attitudes are somewhat less accepting. While I was in New York, the news reported about a gay couple being detained outside the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake. Talk about the lion’s den. One even occasionally hears about physical attacks, although notably, such instances generally make the headlines, an occurrence that would not have been thinkable in recent decades. Still, although more rejection occurs in these areas, it lacks the sort of moral outrage and hostility exhibited as recently as the 20 year ago time frame. But, as Joan Rivers once put it, these are largely places where women wear high heels and socks, so most self-respecting gays wouldn’t be caught dead there anyway. If they could avoid it.

By and large, the march of history and public sentiment clearly is moving towards universal acceptance of homosexuality, and along with it, gay marriage. I estimate its about 10 years behind acceptance of inter-racial marriage or so. People in their 20s grew up watching Will and Grace, Boy George, Madonna kissing Britney and Christina, celebrating Elton John and Martina Navratilova, and seeing anti-gay celebrities condemned for intolerance. The gay social agenda, such that one exists, continues to advance. Gay themed shows populate television programming and mainstream movies. Gay movie stars, musicians, even politicians abound. Gay issues are openly and thoroughly discussed in major media outlets. About the only places where it seems to be absolutely prohibited would be in the military (soon to end with President Obama’s expressed intent to lift the ban) and in major sports. Though even as to the latter, the NFL’s recent suspension of Larry Johnson for using gay slurs, and his rather meek acceptance thereof, does mark something of a watershed event in the traditionally anti-gay world of professional athletics. That athletes should be so virulently anti-gay is somewhat ironic. What other profession, outside of male prostitution I suppose, entails so much exposure to male nudity?

Now, the centerpiece of the gay rights agenda (again, to the extent such an agenda could be said to exist), gay marriage, has not completely gone over. Liberal California and Washington have recently rejected gay marriage by referendums. The very recent close vote in even more liberal Maine (it may have two Republican senators, but they are RINOs and those seats are going Democrat when the incumbents move on) shows that trepidations about gay marriage exist even in the most “progressive” regions. About the only places where gay marriage has become legal have been in states where the courts have found a constitutional right. How interesting is it that these judges have suddenly found rights existing in constitutions that have lain dormant, in secret, under the bushes no doubt, for more than a hundred years, waiting for these judicial heroes to discover them. But despite this recent stall, have no doubts. Gay marriage will become the law of the land within the next 10-15 years. While polls continue to show that a majority of Americans oppose gay marriage, it is a relatively slim majority and younger Americans are far more approving. This shouldn’t surprise anyone. The pro-gay view has completely won the culture wars. By a far broader margin than older Americans, young people view homosexuality as completely normal and lacking any sort of moral deficiency, and support gay marriage. So as this younger generation and ones following it occupy a greater percentage of the electorate, gay marriage inevitably and universally will become legal. That’s not a trend that going to reverse either. Witness the denunciation and demonizing of Miss California for expressing opposition to gay marriage. On the one hand I was shocked she had an opinion on something other than world peace (for it) and saving children (for that too). On the other hand, I don’t like her filling that pretty little head with complicated thoughts (which cause wrinkles). The momentum clearly favors gay marriage, and only heavy-handed judicial intervention will forestall that (such as what happened when the Supreme Court’s blundering into Roe v. Wade disrupted a pronounced national trend favoring abortion rights and sparked a conservative backlash that still has steam).

The more significant question is, having won all legal battles and overturning all laws banning homosexuality, what’s the big deal about obtaining the right to marry someone of the same sex? Divorce rates remain very high. If marriage is so bad, why are gays clamoring for it? Clearly one reason rests in symbolism. Legalizing gay marriage would demonstrate that society values homosexual unions as the equal of heterosexual partnerships. That’s clear, and that reasoning makes sense.

The other reason can only be to obtain the goodies that marriage bestows. Its easier for heterosexual couples to adopt children, I mean, other than little Chinese girls. The tax code still favors married couples over single people. Married people also have better insurance rates and coverage, inheritance and estate rights, and marrying a non-citizen can allow one to emigrate to the United States.

This begs the question why does the state and society effectively subsidize marriage to such an extent? These privileges and benefits, much like other tax code provisions, originated based on social policies strongly favoring marriage and family development. Our forefathers actually tried to drive singleness out of our midst. Pennsylvania even enacted taxes against single men. But even granting the social benefits of marriage (e.g. fostering a better environment for raising children or resulting in more stable lifestyles), wouldn’t people get married even without these benefits? Who gets married for access to insurance, or to lower their taxes, or to inherit their spouse’s estate (ok, Anna Nicole, but who else)? The evidence suggests that even as such distinctions have become reduced, people are still getting married at about the same rates (albeit at slightly later age). And don’t homosexual couples at least try to adopt children, thereby depriving such subsidies of their “family promotion” justification?

What then, exactly, is the reason for continuing to subsidize marriage? Ultimately none. Subsidies should only exist where desirable social actions or conditions do not result from the functioning of the free market (or through social norms). People do get married and stay married without these incentives, so they are unnecessary. The rise in illegitimate births disproves the necessity of marriage for forming and maintaining families. The divorce rate rebuts any notion that promoting marriage through easing its financial burden through tax and other policies represents an effective policy. And while the social benefits of the family structure obviously benefit our society, would we see fewer families without these subsidies? Marriage, as presently constituted, represents a wealth transfer from single individuals to married without demonstrable benefit. “Pound for pound,” singles have greater expenses than marrieds, and these policies do nothing to help. Ironically, legalizing gay marriage will aggravate that schism, as a good proportion of single people will become reclassified as married. On the other hand, it will impose legal restrictions on existing homosexual unions, and arguably introduce them to the same stresses on marriages that heterosexual married couples experience.

To quote Mr. Spock (from that episode where he goes nuts in his once every seven years mating ritual and hijacks the Enterprise back to Vulcan where he fights Kirk for his wife), “After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting.”

Next-my adventures at the San Antonio Half Marathon

Let's Go To the Mall

I was going to talk about gay marriage next, but an unexpected experience in Washington has edged gay marriage out for the next posting. That and Larry Johnson.

No, plastic consumer-oriented reader, I don't mean we should go to the mall down the street. I know how you all like to get your corn dog on, and eat all the samples at the food court, and get your free mall makeovers, and see what's on sale at Banana Republic, and check out the cougars hitting the shoe sales. Theoretically.

I mean America's Mall. The Mall in Washington. You know, by the Washington Monument and the Smithsonian and the Lincoln Memorial. With the reflecting pool. Where Martin Luther King Jr. gave his "I Have a Dream" speech, where World War I vets camped to protest Depression-era policies, and where Vietnam War protestors staged their 1969 Moratorium protests. You know, L'Enfant's Grand Avenue. This has been described as the third most-visited place in America, behind the Las Vegas strip and Times Square.

Last Sunday, I had to go to Washington on business. My attitude about Washington is pretty dismal. L'Enfant planned it as a sparkling world capital. Now successive Marion Barrys and decades of Congressional neglect have turned it into Murderville. I could make a case that on balance, since the enactment of the 1964 Civil Rights Act, Washington has produced more harm than good. So other than the Smithsonian, Washington's really never held any special appeal for me.

I arrived Sunday afternoon so I could meet my friends Carrie and Jeremy for dinner, and had enough time to go for a run before we were to meet. I had just enough daylight to go for a run on the Mall. It was so inspirational I had to post about it for all of you to consider.

Most notably, so many of the trees on the mall are bursting into radiant shades of gold, orange and red. These include American elms, maples, aspens, and cherries. The park is awash in brilliant colors now, magnified by the streaming sunset. I first headed west towards the sun and Arlington, passing first the Washington Monument then the Lincoln Memorial on the left, and a parade of Greek revival agency offices on my right. Constitution Avenue was somewhat bland, although the trees again added some color. When making the turn behind the Lincoln Memorial though, I saw the sun setting behind Arlington National Cemetery. It was gleaming over the Lee House, and across the Potomac the bright red trees bathed the entire area with a soft fall color.

Before heading back east along the Mall towards the Capitol, I stopped first at the Lincoln Memorial and then at the nearby Korean War Memorial. Hordes of tourists were streaming in and around the Lincoln Memorial. I saw people of all nationalities, wearing turbans, saris, and other non-American garb. All seemed transfixed at the Lincoln statue, while many stood on the steps and gazed out over the reflecting pool towards the Washington Monument. I thought of the words they could have read at the site and taken home. From Lincoln's Second Inaugural, "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations." Or from the Gettysburg Address: "that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." Quite a far cry from the fourth-grade level bickering that now passes for public discourse in this town.

To the memorial's left lies the new Korean War Memorial. This new memorial packs an emotional punch. It consists of a platoon of cloaked GI's in statue, walking a patrol against a granite wall. At the wall's end to which the soldiers are marching is inscribed the phrase "Freedom is Not Free." This eternal patrol by the gray soldiers leaves a haunting impression.

Further along the Mall heading east, I came first to the new World War II Memorial located at the opposite end of the reflecting pool, then the Washington Monument. On the way, the reflecting pool was on my left, while in the distance I could see the Jefferson Memorial on my right against the Tidal Basin. The World War II Memorial is an oval shaped granite row of linked columns or pillars surrounding a huge fountain. Though impressive, I think both the Korean and Vietnam War memorials eclipse it. I moved on past it to the Washington Monument, which by this hour was splashed with sunlight. Surrounded by American flags, it made for a uniquely patriotic sight.

Moving further east past the Washington Monument, I passed the Smithsonian Castle, birthplace of the Smithsonian Museum. Then I moved on and passed the Hirschorn Museum and Air and Space Museum (where they keep the Wright Brothers plane and Apollo 11). Though the sun was sinking and cold air was setting in, crowds still walked along the Mall, playing frisbee and soccer, or just going for a Sunday evening walk.

As I continued east I faced the Capitol building, also bathed in the setting sun. I recalled how while in Buenos Aires, I saw the Presidential Palace (La Casa Rosada or Pink Palace) at the same hour of day, also lit up by the setting sun, and thought how much more magnificent our own Capitol shines in the sun. I also thought of all the statesmen who have shaped the course of world affairs for more than 200 years. We may be living through the end of Pax Americana and our government institutions may be turning into little more than a wealth transfer mechanism designed to buy votes, but the roll call of accomplished Americans who have served in that building dwarfs the losers currently occupying those seats. Clay, Webster, Houston, Bryan, Taft, LaFollette, and Johnson in the Senate. Rayburn, Jordan, Cannon and countless others in the House. The great moments occurring in and outside the Capitol also inspire. FDR's "date which will live in infamy" speech. MacArthur's "old soldiers just fade away" speech. Churchill's address during World War II. Kennedy's, Roosevelt's, and Lincoln's inaugurals. Mandela speaking to a joint session after his release from prison. These are men and women who made the modern world, and this occurred in that building. Hard to think about those moments and those people without then immediately thinking about the partisan wrangling over largesse that now dominates Congressional discourse, all while national literacy and health declines, the middle class shrinks, and manufacturing leaves the country.

That the Mall could have such an impact is even more astonishing because local news stories have complained about the Mall's disrepair and neglect Congress has shown in maintaining it. The place is so stunning that even in a shambles it can inspire.

Next-gay marriage. Really.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Or Didn't You Know?

Has it been almost a month? Sorry about that. Strange how even though I don't have much of a life, two weeks away from headquarters causes turmoil and overload for about a month after. Still, it hasn't all been work-caused insanity. The Daily Affirmations Summer Tour 2009 has taken me to Atlanta for a wedding (no need to panic ladies, it wasn't my own), to Houston twice, and soon to Washington, D.C. But while I'm still living on the edge, its slowed down just a bit, enough to get back to the blogstone.

So while its still Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I thought I'd ease back in by discussing that. Did you know that its National Breast Cancer Awareness Month? Probably you didn't because its such a subtle message. What with professional football teams wearing pink shoes, baseball teams using pink bats, half the products on the grocery store shelves promising to donate part of your purchase price (an extremely small part mind you) to a suitable breast cancer charity, the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure ads, opportunities to contribute at your grocery store check-out counter, and so on, its really no surprise that very few people know anything about breast cancer.

Or not. Jerry's Kids think breast cancer gets a lot of publicity.

On the surface, this would ordinarily be something I'd rail about. But when looking past the surface, its one of those rare instances in which the do-gooders actually have a very valid motive.

Simply put, breast cancer is a scourge. Its the second-most common form of cancer in America, after skin cancer. Its the seventh highest cause of death in women. The National Cancer Institute projects that 12 % of all women born today will be diagnosed with breast cancer at some time in their lives. By the way, men can get breast cancer too. Today, most of those diagnosed with breast cancer are betwen the ages of 45 and 64. However, both the incidence and mortality rate from breast cancer has been declining in the last 10 years.

Aside from the statistics, it seems like everyone knows someone or has a friend or family member that's had breast cancer. In my own family, I've had two aunts with breast cancer, and one more who had pre-cancerous cells. My own mother had some pre-cancerous cells and needed radiation treatment. Breast cancer has greatly affected my family.

With such widespread incidence, its no wonder that a breast cancer awareness and fund-raising industry has sprung up, as well as the inevitable backlash. Newsweek recently published an article that, while not exactly criticizing such activity, came close. The article basically gave a platform to those criticizing the attention given to funding a cure, rather than programs to support those with the disease or to basic research about breast cancer. It also quoted criticism of accepting money from companies that market products that may cause or increase the risk of breast cancer (such as cosmetics or auto companies).

Killjoys. Scum. Slime. Menace to the golfing industry. So what? So what if the cancer-causers are funding research? Should they not fund it at all? Just like politicians, beggars can't be choosers. If every charity adopted some sort of moral high ground to evaluate the worthiness of their contributers, they'd soon find themselves penniless. And as for paying for the cure and not supporting victims, lets focus on job one. Curing this disease is vital, and money spent on that will ultimately help far more women in the long run. Plus, no one is preventing anybody from funding victim's programs. Finally, its about time that a dreadful disease gets some major run. AIDS is about the only disease that has, back in the late 1980s, mainly because the right celebrities were afflicted and the right celebrities climbed on the bandwagon. Let's face it, if it had been A.C. Green that had AIDS instead of Magic, it may have played out a lot differently. Of course, if that virgin had gotten AIDS, it really would have been a story. Or if Edye Gorme had been the lead fundraiser instead of Elizabeth Taylor. Breast cancer is a bit different. There's no lead celebrity associated with the disease, although plenty have had it. Christina Applegate comes to mind. As do Sheryl Crow and Elizabeth Edwards. But the surge in breast cancer awareness and fundraising clearly isn't driven from the top down. Its a grass roots, from the bottom operation, that's taken hold because its so widespread, and has afflicted women whom we all care about. And its had a real impact. One cannot pretend the drop in breast cancer rates has nothing to do with this activism and increased awareness about early detection.

So, I'll see you at the Race For the Cure. Maybe. Its 7:30 in the morning after Halloween night and its north of US 183 and therefore outside my allowed operating area. I also have to go to Ashley's Halloween party and wear my Bad Company t-shirt and ratty jeans and boots (I'll be going as "white trash"). She's going to dress up as me for Halloween so I figure I should go as someone from Stratford High School. Oh, snap! By the way, any man over the age of 10 wearing a Halloween costume needs to take a good long look at himself in the mirror and ask, "where did it all go wrong?" You're a man. Drop the costume and help pass out candy to the kids.

Next-I will explain the completely unprovocative and non-controversial subject of gay marriage.

Vacation 2009, Day Fifteen: The End of the Line

Today was mainly a travel day and my last real vacation day. I only had to return to Terry’s and Kimberly’s house in time to watch the Texas vs. Texas Tech game. Although Point Reyes isn’t far from Pinole as the crow flies, it could very well be in a different world. Speaking of which, I decided to visit Muir Woods on the way back to Pinole.

Today was the first day the fog didn’t lift around 9, so it was a bit of a cloudy, cool day all throughout the area. Apparently someone’s having a wedding in Olema and the Lodge is full of white people. Oy! I haven’t seen so much LL Bean, comb overs, and cotton sweaters in one place since I stayed at the Adolphus Hotel in Dallas (and saw Burt Bacharach in the elevator). Aunts, cousins, nephews, and frat buddies. It reeked of Elaine Robinson’s wedding to Carl Smith, makeout king of his fraternity, in The Graduate.

After packing and checking out, I first visited the Point Reyes Farmer’s Market, held weekly at Toby’s. This was, to put it mildly, a freak show. Guys playing bongos and tambourines, women dancing with scarves, the local NPR station broadcasting live. What is going on here? On the other hand, the various sellers were interesting. There were five or six excellent purveyors of outstanding looking produce. Also representing were companies or farmers selling oysters, honey, milk, eggs, cheese, tea, other kinds of shellfish, and yarn. One of the chefs at a local restaurant was giving a lesson on shellfish cooking, though when I walked by he was meticulously making toast. As I walked over to the little Point Reyes Community Garden, a hippyish, yet attractive, young mother gently spoke to her daughter, who was at that moment pounding a little boy mercilessly with her fists, saying “gentle, Clementine, gentle.” Right. Madam, you, quite frankly, don’t have a clue. I thought at that moment that Miss Birdie would absolutely have handled her business in that situation. The pounding would quickly have stopped. No “cajoling” or “persuasion” would have occurred.

After leaving, I leisurely headed south past Point Reyes to Muir Woods. Basically, you take Route 1 (the Pacific Coast Highway) further south, then take Muir Woods Road just after the PCH turns east right after Muir Beach. This stretch of road was even windier and twistier than the sections I encountered last Tuesday. To make it worse, fog was battling to take over the sky the entire drive. Sometimes it would push far inland and envelope the entire area. Keep driving another 10 minutes, however, and you leave all trace of fog behind and its clear blue sky. Fog kept coming and going all day long. You could even see it moving across the sky, like some cloud-like creature bent on destruction in Star Trek. On top of that, hordes of suited up bicyclists insisted on riding in the outside lane, which has no bicycle lane (as do many other Northern California streets). If you didn’t pass them, you’d have to go incredibly slow, particularly on uphill segments. If you did, you had to worry about oncoming cars and trucks at turns. These factors made an already drive much more treacherous.

As I approach Muir Woods, I can tell from a couple of miles away its packed. Cars were parked far outside of the entrance gates, with families of all shapes and sizes walking to and away from the park. This has me dumbfounded. I’d have thought that San Franciscans have incredibly interesting things to do during the day other than drive out to Marin County and hug trees. You know, a busy San Francisco life, filled with animal sacrifices, watching snuff films, sniffing paint fumes, badmouthing America, and leading that week’s Gay Pride parade. On the other hand, at least these parents aren’t taking their kids to Chuck E. Cheese or the mall, so I can’t be too upset about it.

When I arrived, it was still kind of gloomy, clammy weather, which is perfect for visiting Muir Woods. But throughout the couple of hours I was there, it cleared up, got cloudy again, cleared up, got foggy, then cleared up. Pretty typical. Muir Woods essentially is a small (295 acres) old-growth redwoods forest valley on the side of Mount Tamalpais, a really scenic point in Marin County, with other trails and attractions. Its original owners purchased it initially to preserve it from logging, and when a local water utility was prepared to condemn it to build a dam, the owners convinced the federal government to accept the land as a gift to protect it from further threats. It’s a really special place. Something about the light and the air give it a time stands still sort of feeling. I’ve been there before when salmon have been swimming in Redwood Creek, which runs through the middle of the park. Being at the park in person really makes you understand why Hitchcock filmed some of the Carlotta Valdes scenes for Vertigo here. Muir Woods, with its two thousand year old redwoods, perfectly complemented someone who supposedly had come back from the dead. The place has long been a favorite, but I have to admit that after having spent so much time in a much larger old-growth redwood forest up the coast, Muir Woods has lost a little of its oomph. Don’t get me wrong, its still maple syrup wrapped in chocolate and covered in hugs, but maybe now it doesn’t have candy sprinkles like before. Muir Woods is a little tidier, a little more orderly, and a little more accessible to the tourist hordes than the redwood forests to the north. But it still retained much of its wonder, particularly when the clouds rolled back and sunlight streamed through these magnificent trees.

After finishing at Muir Woods, I tried to head to Pinole via the city so that I could pull off at the Marin Headlands and get a great photo of the Golden Gate Bridge and the city. First I went through Mill Valley, perhaps the whitest of the white liberal, hot tubber areas of Marin County. But they were having their Fall Arts Festival and the town was absolutely packed. So I decided to head on to the city. Very oddly, however, fog had completely socked in the entire city even though Mill Valley, just a few miles up the road, was very clear. One could not even see the bridge from just a few hundred feet away on the 101. Yet, right up to that point, it was still a clear, bright shining day in Marin County. So I decided to head into Sausalito and look around for a bit. Sausalito is sort of a weekend getaway destination for Bay Area residents. It has numerous shops and restaurants right along the main street facing the Bay. Today, however, it was so completely packed I didn’t even try to park, but just drove straight on through to loop around the city and hit the 101 headed back to the north, where I’d take the 580 East through Richmond, garden spot of the universe, and loop into Pinole where Terry and Taffy were waiting on me right as kickoff began.

Next-coming home and vacation highlights.

Vacation 2009, Day Fourteen: Hangin' with the Locals

Having blown it out hiking more than 20 miles the last two days, today I decided to spend my last full day in Point Reyes as a tourist and see the local sights, but from my convertible. The highlight was the famous Point Reyes Lighthouse.

Today was a bit warmer than the last few days, so I was glad not to be taking another hike. Late in the day the lady who owns a shop where I bought a shirt was complaining that today had been a scorcher (the official high for Point Reyes Station was 77). Yeah. 106 degrees in Austin thinks you people are a bunch of pansies. I decided to have a proper breakfast this morning, so I drove into Point Reyes Station to the Pine Cone Diner for a cheese and mushroom omelet, and chicken apple sausage. Sidebar: this whole state is crazy with chicken apple sausage. Its almost like getting chips and hot sauce in Texas its so plentiful. Fortunately, most places its really good and healthier than normal sausage. Anyway, the Pine Cone Diner isn’t quite the real thing, but it’s a pretty good substitute given that I’m in Marin County. Plenty of diner kitsch, including chrome and formica tables, vinyl covered booths, and a genuine diner counter. The menu, however, was “diner-esque” but with a more upscale twist. You get your has browns alright, using organic potatoes and cooked with sparing trans fat free oil. Though there were a few other customers, everyone by and large was content to be quiet and peaceful on this Friday morning-no guys in suits texting or talking on the cell phones. Ah, to be in the country. All in all it was a really good breakfast experience.

Part of the breakfast experience is reading the paper, and in this case that means the San Francisco Examiner, purchased for $1.00. As if that fact alone isn’t appalling (paying $1.00 in this day and age for already stale news), I notice that even in an age of thinning newspapers, the Examiner is extremely paltry. I guess that what with budget crises, health care, the Giants in the pennant race and the like there’s not much news to report. Its one thing to jack up the price, its another to give people less for that increased price. The airlines think newspapers aren’t giving people their money’s worth. And what was on the front page of the San Francisco Examiner? Mayor considers imposing “soda tax.” This is yet another measure to protect the public from itself, by making cokes more expensive (you see, the money raised will go to combat youth obesity, and there’s no way it’ll ever be diverted to other programs. What, you don’t believe that? What about all those anti-smoking ads you saw after the government got all those settlements with the tobacco companies? Oh, right.). Great. Still more nanny state legislation. Will politicians allow us to make any of our own choices? What’s next on the tax or prohibition list? Taxing people who wear white after Labor Day? Who chew gum and forget to bring enough for everyone? Inadequately publicized coming out parties? Misspelled banners at football games? And don’t get all smug Texas Republicans. You people are just as bad as the Democrats. Here’s a thought. Try letting adults make up their own minds about some things. Not everything. Just some things. Just a few things. And let us spend our own money instead of deciding how to spend it for us.

Back to this day. First on the agenda was to make the 45 minute drive to the Point Reyes shoreline and visit the Point Reyes Lighthouse. The Lighthouse Service, later absorbed by the Coast Guard, built this lighthouse in the late 1800s. Point Reyes was one of the most treacherous points on any American coast, with an incredibly high number of shipwrecks. The combination of fog that can suddenly appear, as well as currents and the deceptive nature of the Point Reyes coast have turned Drake’s Bay into what the Park Service’s official literature calls a “ship graveyard.” But building and maintaining a lighthouse here was difficult due to the rocky terrain and steep cliff right at the point. The lighthouse itself has been automated for some time, blasting a fog sound every 30 seconds or so. The old lighthouse is still functional. Most impressive is the massive magnifying glass used to reflect light out to sea. When I visited this place a few years ago you could get up to that level, but they have it blocked off today. Other buildings include the generation station, a cistern for catching rainwater, and the lighthouse keeper’s residence. The lighthouse has incredible views of the ocean and Drake’s Bay, of Point Reyes South Beach, and of the nearby bluffs. You could hear seals barking below (but not see them as the cliff was too steep). A baby elk was also apparently marooned on a ledge near the top of the stairs, but it didn’t seem like anyone else noticed. It was a clear day and a lot of visitors were roaming around the area enjoying the sights. Its about 320 steps from the parking lot down to the lighthouse, and a sign at the outset advertises this as the equivalent of a 30 story building. Just like the line from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, going down the mountain is not the problem. The problem is coming back up. Having gained some “hiking legs” over the past two weeks, I was able to make the climb without stopping. I mention that not to point out that I’m an incredible stud (that’s a given…was there some doubt), but I continue to marvel over the things I can do after my heart surgery. So I notice things like this a lot more than I used to. The drive itself was pretty nice, passing several dairy farms, a lagoon, and “Drake’s Estero,” a relatively large inlet leading into the Bay.

After making it back to Point Reyes Station, I looked around the town and in the few shops. Point Reyes Station basically is a three block section of a three street town, but it’s the largest community in the area. Most of this area is agricultural, so a lot of the people live on farms. Highlights include Cowgirl Creamery, an excellent local cheese-making business that makes cheese right in the store that you can watch (and gives out plenty of tasty samples). I bought a wheel of “Pierce Point,” a light, mild, firm white cheese (which I devoured about half of later that night). Toby’s, a sort of Marin version of a general store, is another interesting place around town; a combination produce and sundry foods store and local interest store. I had lunch at an excellent (and apparently new) restaurant named Stellina. This place has an Italian flavor, but uses only organically grown foods and specializes in dishes with Marin County ingredients. I had a truly outstanding saffron stew, with shrimp, mussels, clams, chicken apple sausage, fingerling potatoes, chicken broth, olive oil, red chili flakes, garlic and saffron. It reminded me of yet another movie line, from Big Night, which is “to eat good food is to be close to God.” That is so true. They were playing Al Green’s Greatest Hits on the speaker, and the room had lots of windows with great light and street front views. A really fine experience.

After dropping off the cheese back at the hotel, in the cooler that Kimberly had allowed me to borrow, I headed out to the park for a brief walk on the Earthquake Trail. The San Andreas Fault runs right along Route 1 and just inside the park as it heads southeast towards San Francisco. The Earthquake Trail runs right alongside the fault line. Although you can’t actually see anything on the land itself, you can see an old fence from 1906, that the Great San Francisco Earthquake split in two and moved one section about 16 feet north. Apparently during that quake, the whole Point Reyes peninsula moved about 16 feet. They also have markers showing the fault line and various interpretative signs explaining various facts about the fault and earthquakes generally. It runs past a nice little creek, and right on the fault line I saw the second snake of the vacation. There were no snakes in Lake Tahoe or Redwoods, but already I’ve seen two in Point Reyes. I couldn’t tell what kind of snake it was, but I did put a photo of it on flickr.

After doing an in-room workout, I got changed and went back to the Station House for dinner, this time steak. Also got to catch most of the second half of the Boise State-Fresno State game on the TV at the bar. Final score Boise State 51, Fresno State 34. Was that a college football game or a 1966 AFL game? I half expected to see Joe Namath or Daryle Lamonica throwing passes to Don Maynard or Fred Biletnikoff. Hey non-BCS schools, there’s this new thing, its called defense. That’s where you get in the way of the offensive team’s player holding the ball. Same could be said for you too, Texas Tech Red Raiders. Try stopping even one kickoff or punt return for less than 10 yards.

Next—the Point Reyes Farmer’s Market and Muir Woods