Something went wrong. A party split up. Two groups, likely small, went two different ways. Then, time and distance, the wonder-twins of evolution, took their toll and had their way with them.
One group was short and slow, but strong, slope-browed and dim witted. They lived in small tribes in fair climates. They had to kill what they wanted for dinner, often without tools or even language.
These are the Neanderthals, and their record ends 28,000 years ago.
The other group, for whatever reasons, developed intellect, skill, cunning, reason and imagination. They were taller, faster, smarter and more flexible as a species.
These were the Sapiens. Us. Well, early us, but us nonetheless.
About 200,000 years ago, give or take, as the theory goes, we Sapiens moved out of Africa. And inevitably, we ran in to our uglier dumber cousins. Then, about 28,000 years ago, the Neanderthal record dies out.
And that is exactly what scientists have long thought happened to them. Died out, that is. But more recently, other theories have come along. One says that Sapiens moved in and effectively conquered the brutes. Another says that we may have over-competed and thus consumed all of their resources.
Still, another suggests that the two groups, though not genetically identical were somehow able to merge. Effectively stating that early man had a hankering for neanderthal pussy.
Which would really mean one thing, we are not only Sapiens, we are Neanderthals too. Some of us more than others...
And of course, this came up for me on the way back from Idaho last week. Stopping for gas and snacks, pissing at a rest stop or letting the tots run amok at the McDonaldsplayland, I had the opportunity to behold the people. The populace. The neighbors.
I observed the people who will be setting the course for the next four years. These were the shirtless cowboys in pickup trucks, the fat loudmouths, the dirty shirted shoppers. These were the shotgun wielders, the big belt-buckled buffoons and the toothless. These were people who complained about the lack of mayonnaise at McDonalds. These were the folks who bear a striking family resemblance to their spouses.
These were country music fans, rodeo clowns and Walmart patrons. These were church goers, although church likely meant tuning into the Jesus-channel sometime on Sunday after the bad-beer hangover from Saturday ended.
And it worried me somewhat, realizing what was out there and recognizing just how many there were. But now, I seem to see it in a whole new light. Neanderthals. Of course! It all makes so much more sense. There is Neanderthal blood in the Sapien line, and perhaps it is just more pronounced in some than others.
See, there's been a little mishap. A snaffu, if you will.
Remember the Large Hadron Collider thingy we talked about last week? The one that may destroy the planet? Well, see, it's broken. A bunch of magnets got gummed up earlier today, overheated and nearly caught fire.
So, the good news is that the apocalypse-risking experiments will be delayed for at least a week from their scheduled date, pushing the END back to about Halloween.
The bad news is, IT'S FUCKING BROKEN!!! It's SOOO broken that MAGNETS nearly caught fire!!
Now, apart from my children, I don't find much in this craptastic world worth saving. However, on the other hand, it would have to really suck to get slurped into a tiny quantum singularity.
So, maybe they'll just scrap the whole thing altogether. Not likely though, they paid a lot of money for those flame retardant magnets.
If you know me, and I know you do, you know I'm no sports fan. Not a sports fan, in much the same way Hitler wasn't a fan of Yom Kippur...
In the last year, however, I have come to root for a suck-ass local soccer team. Be that as it may, THAT is not what this post is about.
No, this post, shockingly, is about Football. American-style gridiron pigskin college football. The purest form of the game.
OK, stop laughing.
Really! I'm going to write about football.
See, there's a game coming up this Saturday that I think you really should see. I've been reading up on it. Researching my subject, gathering data. I do believe, and fully expect, a bloody bone-rattling brawl. Or, at least, the media wants us to think so.
This Saturday, the holy Sabbath of college sports, the University of Oregon Ducks will play the Boise State Broncos in what amounts to the last non-conference match-up between the two. The Broncos, of course, lead the WAC, while the Ducks are #2 behind the juggernaut known as USC.
The Ducks would desperately love to catch USC, who are not only #1 in the PAC 10, but also #1 nationally. Problem is, the Ducks are badly injured and will rely, unusually, this Saturday on a PAIR of scrappy first-year quarterbacks, who will swap in and out as the need and play arrives.
The Ducks are fast, though, apparently, with some saying they are the fastest team in college football this year.
Boise, on the other hand, is young too, and come to the game with a well-stocked bag of tricks. Anyone who watched the Fiesta Bowl two years ago remembers exactly what I'm talking about.
What's worse, Boise's coach used to be an offensive coach for Oregon. Both coaches know each other very well.
The Ducks are apprehensive. The Broncos are realistic. Both teams seem to be putting particular energy into this game. I'm not really rooting for one over the other, although it can be fun to root for the underdogs...
so, that's what I'll be doing this Saturday at 12:30 pacific time.
I'm sure there are some Broncos fans who might want to say something. Probably some Ducks as well.
The predictable parodies have arrived, as they do every election cycle.
Stewart/Colbert
Admiral Adama
Even Lord Voldemort...
Most go unheeded. Although, a few years back, Howard Stern had to apply the brakes when he started polling 30% in the New York governor's race.
And then there is the blur. Reagan, for instance, became President. Arnold became Governor. Gopher from the Love Boat actually went to Congress. And really, I still can't figure out the Jessy Ventura thing.
Still though, the fictitious candidates do lend themselves to the prospect of speculation. Which fictitious character would you support in a bid for the White House?
If asked, I know Mrs G&T (as well as Dave) would both probably nominate Jed Bartlet.
I, myself, have rolled it around, considering the qualities and characteristics of various characters. Pondering individual gravitas, intelligence and oratory skills. Political acumen. Deference to the Rule of Law.
And really, it comes down to just a few...
Capt. Jean Luc Picard, for instance, holds a surplus of most of these traits, all of them in fact. He would be, I think, perfect President. Problem is, he's French. So, sorry, but Article II Section 1 wouldn't allow that. Capt. Janeway? Nah...
Atticus Finch, of To Kill a Mockingbird fame, also comes to mind, maybe with George Bailey of It's a Wonderful Life as his running mate. These two, however good, however loyal and hard working, may just be too good... Whereas Picard could take on the entire Klingon Empire, Finch and Bailey seemed to have never ending problems with small towns...
Col. Sherman Potter from MASH? No, too much like McCain.
Yoda? Hmmm... size matters not.
Tony Soprano? To much like Dick Cheney...
Agent Dana Scully, X-Files, maybe ... maybe... Smart, tough, independent. Although her close association with her crackpot partner might ruin her chances... That and the whole alien abduction thing.
I dunno. I just dunno.
There needs to be a balance. Virtue in the modern, but also in the classical forms. An intersection between Machiavelli and Plato. Putting the earnest face in front with the remorseless muscle in the background. This leads me, I suppose, to one conclusion...
Sheriff Seth Bullock, historically-inspired sheriff of Deadwood, with Al Swearingen (business owner...) as his running mate. The Cowboy and the Devil. It's worked before...
Did you see the right-wing oil puppets stand up at the lectern last week, one after another, singing the praises of Senator John S. McCain?
-See? There! I just did it too.
The Republican nominee, for as long as he's been in politics, (And he's been a politician for a long time) has always gone by "John McCain."
But now, suddenly, he is John S. McCain. The "S," by the way, stands for Sidney.
It's subtle! Well, sorta. I mean, there isn't another John McCain running for office. So, the sudden use of the middle initial isn't to clarify which candidate we're talking about.
No.
It's meant to be a reminder. A cynical, racist, bigoted reminder, pandering to small-minded yokels, of Obama's middle name.
Now, I had no choice in the selection of my middle name, and I'm certain you didn't either. Well, unless you legally changed it as an adult. My middle name was almost my first name. My son's middle name was also almost his first name. However, the name is never the choice of the name holder.
His name, in fact, was his father's name. He is the second. His father was the first. Apart from the name, and about one month when he was ten, his father had no influence on him.
Yet, the McCain-Palin camp has sunk to the ridiculous low of the subtle reminder. They used it! They chose to use it!
They made the conscious decision to use it, because they believe Americans are stupid and easily manipulated. They believe fear and war mongering can win yet another victory for the oil companies.
And then...
Then!
There is the wicked far-right branch of the Republican party. You know, the one's that have a penchant for inbreeding and snake handling... You know damn well who I'm talking about.
Well, seems there is a current in their little circle, a new tactic. Lacking decency, charity, good teeth, a complete set of 46 chromosomes or the ability to reason, they have taken to calling Mr. Obama: "B. Hussein Obama," which is, in fact, his name, subtlety be damned!
There is nothing wrong with using someone's name. You can call me Mr. G. and Tonic if you'd like. But the purpose, the intent, the goal is to cause fear and derision due to his middle name....
The underlying assumption is that "Hussein" is a bad word, that anyone with that name cannot be a good American because it's MUSLIM!! (Or African...)
And this cynical bigotry troubles me greatly. It has for a while. It makes me very worried about this country and the people in it.
And then there is this. It's a video. It's political. There are no naked women. There is no sex. However, it is far more nauseating and pain inducing than even that wretched two-girls-one-cup video...
Remember, people are buying into this shit. People you work with. People you drink with. Maybe it's your family. Maybe it's your neighbor.
It makes me very sad for this country. Mr. Obama says that we are better than this. Maybe we are not.
In August, 2005, I traveled to New Orleans for depositions. I arrived one day early to see the city. After an extremely long Sunday of gin, jazz, strippers, crayfish, blues, BBQ, humidity and vomiting, I declared that the wretched urine-smelling city needed a bath. I really did.
By the end of the month, it got one.
A BIG one.
Then, just this last May, 3,000 hardcore bikers and I descended upon the Texas filth pot known as Houston. I've already complained at length about that stinking festering shit-hole of a city. I also commented more than once, that as a bayou metropolis near the gulf coast, perhaps the universe could do me a solid and send a Hurricane.
And really, I need to stop doing this.
Apparently, I have a power. An Awesome Word of Power, not unlike Jesus. Only, where he healed the lame and fed the multitudes, I can wipe out entire southern cities with one smart-ass quip.
And I know, as a fact, that my awesome word of power is only limited to Southern destruction, because I have actually declared with full authoritative voice that Portland Oregon should have daily stripper parades and beer should flow from the fountains.
Alas, the best I have been able to achieve is Bikini Coffee...
There is a Negligible possibility that you and every one and everything that you know may blink out of existence on October 21. The risk is small, thank heavens!
Although, that "small" risk has been calculated to be about the same as winning the lottery.
"But wait!" you may ask, "doesn't someone usually win the lottery?"
Well, sadly, yes.
See, this little group of European scientists, called CERN (European Center for Nuclear Research) has built a 27 kilometer-long tunnel 150 meters below the ground. Inside the tunnel is billions and billions of dollars of scary science shit, intended to shoot beams of super-charged atoms toward each other at roughly the speed of light.
Sounds cool, and the whole damn thing went on-line today.
Except, the point is to recreate the conditions and particles that existed within the first few nano-moments after the Big Bang.
Yes, I know what you are thinking. The Big Bang was in fact an infinitely large explosion in which unfathomable energy was converted at once into all of the matter in the known universe.
Yes, and they are attempting to do it again, so to speak, in Switzerland.
Not to worry though, as it seems 8,000 physicists have been consulted on the project, and MOST assume there is only this SMALL risk of a mishap.
What sort of mishap?
Well, there is a very tiny, but very real chance that a quantum singularity could develop there in the tunnel. This is, of course, also known as a Black Hole. An object so dense with such irresistible gravitational force that nothing, not even light can escape.
There is a black hole already at the center of our local galaxy, and it has the strength to hold billions of solar systems, like our own, in orbit. Should a second black hole develop out here in the backwaters of the Milky Way, it would not be warmly welcomed.
First, the Earth, your home, would be ripped inside out and slurped like pudding into a tiny black pinprick where Switzerland used to be. Next, the inner planets, Mars, Mercury, Venus, if they were on this side of the sun, would get sucked in. Then the Sun itself, followed by the outer planets, comets, asteroids and the entire Kyber Belt, all sucked in like soup...
Other bad stuff would then happen, which would not matter because you wouldn't exist anymore.
Apart from the Black Hole, there is also the possibility of particles called "Strangelets" being released, which would instantly turn the Earth into a lifeless chunk of super dense charcoal.
Also, theoretically, there is a risk of the creation and release of anti-matter, which, as its name suggests, doesn't play well with matter, which is what you and I are made of.
The scientists are scheduled to start crashing protons together on October 21.
Still though, MOST of the scientists guarantee us a lottery-odds chance of survival. And THAT allows me to sleep much better.
We ate turkey sandwiches on the sandy lake shore as frigid water rolled in tiny waves up around our ankles. We floated along on a klunky paddle boat and circled a sunken tree trunk spied in the depths through the crystal melted snow. The kids splashed while the grownups sunned. The beer was kept cold by ice in the cooler.
Wind
Slowly, the stars dimmed behind the unfolding sheet of clouds. They blew in from the north along this thin river valley. Creeping along on the breeze, they edged ever closer to the arc light moon.
But at once, all at once, their progress was halted. A burst, a gust, a gale from the southern desert ran headlong into the clouds, and the wind that drove them. The curtain retracted and the stars reappeared, the constellations returning for an encore.
Earth
Billions upon billions of years, strata upon strata of stone, layered, settled or spread, each atop the other. The crust of the earth, ever thickening, always buildings, until what? Some force at once, or incremental over time, cuts deep down through the occult foundations of the planet itself.
The irresistible advance of erosion exposes for all to see the dark rocky underbelly of the ground. A gorge is formed, with rivers, cliffs and rubble. Eventually, a Bridge is built to span the chasm. A dare devil attempts an infamous jump. And someone decides that this mystical wound in the Earth would make a good location for a golf course.
Fire
The night is cool, but not cold. Nearby, sits the tent where I will "camp out" for the first time with my daughter. The pit is, I don't know, maybe iron, a heavy bowl resting upon charging horses, like some long-lost Mongolian throne.
Paper first and small broken twigs. Then, sticks and small branch sections. Then, the small logs and eventually, a big one.
The smoke rises, twisting with the breeze. Sparks pop and embers glow. The girl roasts a marshmallow on the Aspen branch that I sharpened for her. I sip scotch from a tequila glass.
My hair smells of smoke and my face reflects the radiating heat. The night is still, and the girl sits on my lap in the glow of the fire, softly singing me songs. A perfect night, really; impossible to imagine better.
What do you get when you are at 8,000 feet with an anti-light pollution ordinance, a bright moon, a 19 mm wide-angle lens and a 30-second shutter delay?
Why, you get moonlit photos like this, of course...
If you click on them, you can see better copies...
Greetings from the tent. Mrs G&T and I, along with the boy, have driven to Idaho to visit Oosje and Bampa, and to pick up the girl who has been visiting here for the past 3 weeks.
The sky has been blue here in this pristine alpine valley. The weather is perfect, and I have opted to sleep outdoors in the spacious tent next to the meadow.
Fortunately, Oosje's WiFi signal reaches all the way out here!
So, I look forward to peeing behind a tree at 3:00 in the morning, and sleeping in relative silence. With luck, Sasquatch won't get me.
Or the bears...
Or the moose.
Or Steven Spielberg. (his house is just down the road, and I hear he is a vicious sleep walker when he's been drinking....)
I expected a well-read speech, and I admit that she did a fine job reading it. I mean you don't win Miss congeniality with out some communication skill.
I expected a right wing rallying cry, and there was plenty of tough talk to go around.
I was a little surprised by the blatant pander to the oil companies, and was a little put off by the Exxon-Tupperware-girl sideline, but I suppose you can't bite the hand that feeds you.
I expected the "Fuckin Redneck" boyfriend to clean up, and he did.
Anyway...
There was one little surprise that I got from the speech. One little tidbit of knowledge that I was missing.
See, for years now, I've been in search of a political philosophy. I've been hovering around it, but unable to land on it. And often, I haven't cared enough to work it out.
I'm not really a Democrat. I mean sure, for now I'm registered as one, and I will dedicate much of this blog for the next two months to putting Obama in the White House. However, I don't really believe in governmental expansion and I'm not a fan of big taxes.
I was a Republican for about 20 years, but I cannot abide the ignorance of the religious right, the juvenile assholery of the neo-cons nor the filthy corruption of Big Oil. So, now, I'm really not a Republican either.
I thought maybe my personal philosophy lay in the battle of small government over big government, but my sense of law-based justice and appreciation for the stability that comes from a stron civil service would defeat my own arguments in my head.
But then, tonight, during her historic-but-fluffy speech, the Governor of Alaska said one thing. She said this:
"Al Qaeda terrorists still plot to inflict catastrophic harm on America ... he [Obama] is worried that someone won't read them their rights?"
And in that moment, as Mrs G&T and I sat digesting in disbelief what we just heard, my personal political philosophy crystallized.
It became clear to me that whichever party is in power, whichever tax bracket i fall in to, whoever our enemies are, and what ever color or gender our president happens to be, I believe in the constitution.
I believe in it firmly. And if I have faith in anything, I have faith in It.
Parties are secondary. Taxes happen whether your state is blue or red, or whether your president is a D or an R. The pendulum swings to the right and to the left. However, as long as both sides respect the rule of law, and stand by their oaths to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, then everything will work out.
It was Governor Palin's sarcastic aside, however, that helped me see that. Her callous assumption that macho militarism and overreaching police powers were more important, or more desirable, than basic constitutional rights, reminded me that she and McCain and Bush and Cheney have completely disregarded the rule of law.
That is the basis for my never-ending ire with the current administration.
The reason that four years with McCain and Palin are just as dangerous as the last eight with Bush and Cheney, is that they share the same arrogant (and ignorant) lack of respect understanding for the Constitution.
"Country First" is fine, as long as that country of yours firmly follows the precepts of the law.
So, now, I know. I believe in the Constitution, and I oppose those who are a danger to it.
I am really very pleased to provide the very first guest post submitted by our very own elfin dentist, Dr. B.
Number 16
Big corporations sponsor everything. They have lots of money even after paying the dividends to shareholders, operating expenses, salaries, pensions and environmental hazard taxes...
There are always a few bucks left over for slush funds and advertising, and we all know that it’s really all about having a brand name today. It is imperative to get your brand name out there and plaster it everywhere. It’s big business.
Sometimes when you are lucky, and know someone important, corporate waste will fall on your head. I don’t mean the kind that will burn your lungs or melt a retina. I’m talking about perks!
I had the good fortune Sunday to spend a few hours with the President of Unitek, which is a subsidiary of 3M. They are also one of the largest manufacturers of Orthodontic supplies.
Unitek is based in Monrovia, California, but the President lives in La Verne. His name is Paul and he is a nice guy, just your standard white yuppie who migrated from Minnesota. He also drives a shinny BMW.
His company decided to bid on the 3M suite at the Fontana raceway for the Pepsi 500. At the simple price of $50,000.00 you get a nice size suite that comes stocked with food, beer, comfortable seating, flat screens, air conditioning, 2 servers and a view of the race track right before turn 1.
Oh, but it gets better…
Your 30 guests also will get a private tour of the garage area and the million-dollar 3M mobile command center. To top it all off, the driver of the 3M car will come to the suite and sign autographs and chat it up for about 30 min.
This guy was nothing like I expected. He was articulate, informative, comfortable talking to strangers, and was a dead ringer for Steve Carell (the office, 40 year old virgin)
Here is a photo of him speaking to us before the race. (He has the 3M hat. I'm the sexy one with the stylish glasses in back to the left.)
(OK, I added that last comment to Dr. B's post...)
His name is Greg Biffle and he races a Ford for the Roush/Fenway team of Nascar. I got to shake his hand and my encouragement inspired the young lad to come in second.
I drank lots of free beer and enjoyed a really boring race filled with not one good crash and 250 left turns. The poll sitter, Jimmy Johnson, led the entire race and won for the third time in a row at the Pepsi 500. I’m almost positive that I lost 10 I.Q. points for just being there.
Now I know that 99% of you readers don’t give a crap about NASCAR except for maybe Marge. But it made me really think about how money, advertising, sponsorships are what make our culture thrive. It also made me realize that most of us are just whores and consumers. The next time you buy something made by 3M think about Greg and his shiny #16 car. He really needs a few more sets of tires.
So much to get to tonight. So much to cram in. First we must hit all of the Palin goody.
Then, I have a special guest post to post.
So, let's just get to it.
First up, the big news.
Palin's daughter is pregnant. Or is she?? Here, check out this video and decide for yourself.
I guess the extension of the theory is that Bristol was the mother of Trig. Then, Sarah claimed the baby was her own. Then, when the conspiracy gets blown, the family fakes a 5-month pregnancy based on left-over baby weight to cover up the cover up?
Um, Ok, I know what you're thinking. But really, my point is this, McCain made a bad call. Maybe the worst possible call. Either that, or his team was sloppy in the background check, which is, in fact, even worse.
And then, there's the alleged baby's daddy, Levi Johnston. He is 18 and described himself on his Myspace page as a "Fuckin Redneck." He also declared that he "did not want kids," which runs contrary to the happy tale told by the slowly-sinking governor that the wayward kids are getting married.
Not surprisingly, the Myspace page got yanked by the end of the day.
Nice.
And here is a picture of the happy parents. The girl on the left is Bristol, the daughter of the Republican nominee for Vice President of the United States. The gentleman on the right is the aforementioned "fuckin redneck" father.
Which is, of course, reminiscent of other certain presidential offspring.
Oh, and, here are just a few tidbits lifted from the wonderful Wonkette blog:
Bum husband Todd Palin was arrested for drunken driving in 1986.
Sarah Palin has hired a lawyer because this “Troopergate” thing is getting serious. McCain’s people didn’t ask anybody in Alaska about the Palins.
The FBI says no background check was done on Sarah Palin.
Through her friends Ted Stevens and Don Young, Palin got $27 million in federal earmarks for her tiny suburb of 6,700 people. McCain, of course, is 100% against federal earmarks.
And I suppose, I should stop for just a minute here to clarify two things. First, Senator Obama has made it very clear that candidate's families should be off limits. I respect that request. Pregnancies happen. Bristol Palin is not the villain here, and I do not want to suggest otherwise.
Second, while I want to revel in the ridiculous light-weightedness of Palin's resume, I do not want to ridicule or demean her for her gender.
(Which is hard when the Palin family, themselves, release photos like THIS to the Associated Press...)
Therefore, I will thank all of you who have sent the many fabulous photo-shopped photos of the governor is various states of bikinis and undress, but that's not where I want to go with this.
Where I DO want to go, however, is here:
That is a picture of Governor Palin and one of her children next to the bloody caribou carcass that they gleefully slaughtered for sport.
As a gun owner, and a supporter of 2nd Amendment rights, I've always held that guns are meant to kill people, not animals.
Apart from the sheer horror, which images like this (from the LA Times)will cast upon the average sensible soccer mom, who Palin was chosen to appeal to, it also conjures up strong images of another neanderthal-like arch-conservative, gun-wielding Vice President son-of-a-bitch...
The point, I suppose, after all of this is, WHAT THE FUCK WAS MCCAIN THINKING???
Is this anyway to run a national presidential campaign?? Is this the from-the-hip decision making style we can expect from him?? Does anyone on his staff have any access to the Internet??
If he didn't know these things, then there was a serious lapse in the data-gathering and decision making process.
Worse, though, if he did know these things, which he claims he did, then there was a complete and absolute breakdown in logic.
One heart beat away, my friends...
(Special thanks to Dave, Fred and Michelle for their help and submissions)