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An on the ground RNC update--Tony's got some great pictures and blog coverage of the madness in NY.
In another historic protest moment, Sunday's march questions the necessity of the classic formula for obtaining an accurate headcount...actual number=NYPD estimate+organizer estimate/2.
United for Peace and Justice and the unnamed NYPD source BOTH estimate the crowd at 500,000. Agreement? Does this actually mean there were 500,000 people there?
I did not win the CA Super Lotto last night...
I just noticed this is my 51st entry. It'd be much zippier if I had noticed the 50th! or if this was the 1000th. Oh well.
Elaine directed me to a NY Times article detailing the amped up police presence in New York. The NYPD is deploying its full force of 37,000 officers for the week. The Times article notes that the NYPD's budget is larger than all but 19 of the world's standing armies.
Generally, such an oppressive concentration of armed individuals funded by a government in order to "protect the public" would be referred to as a police state. Sadly, these days conceiving of any US space, especially NY as a police state is normalized. People are saying...Police state? Yes! (cue children in NYPD t-shirts waving tiny flags and firefighters in BBQ-ing in the background) New York IS a police state! We LOVE the NYPD! We LIKES the postcards, keychains, ballcaps, ashtrays, t-shirts, shoe horns, g-strings, ice cube trays, all that stuffs w/the NYPD logo emblazoned on it. I'm thankful I don't live in NY, but rather in a state where we have a world dominating, true to form Termininator as Governor.
I'm tired and bitter this week, but I'm not concerned because I'm going to win Super Lotto tonight. I'm busting a Marlon Brando and buying my own island policed by 37,000 of my favorite people and animals. Keep hope alive...
Regnery Publishing is getting a lot of press over Unfit for Command, the book criticizing Kerry's time in Vietnam. I'm sort of out of that particular politcal loop, but I have gotten a number of emails today about another Regnery publication--In Defense of Internment. I won't name the author because I'm spiteful and don't want to give her any more air time, or free publicity, but you can check out her stuff through Tony's blog--link on the sidebar.
I'd offer some insightful radical analyses if I had the energy, but I'm not going to devote any more Lunamania real estate to vent my tired outrage about yet another woman of color being redonkulous. I'm so over those feelings of betrayal. It's so Condoleeza Rice.
I feel like I need to go take a shower, or read (or better yet watch) some Arundhati Roy. I got to hear her speak last week at the American Sociologists Association's annual conference. I'm always struck by how timely her insight is. I suppose that's what one must do as a "public intellectual at-large." Odd title, but accurate I suppose. I can't find a transcript of last week's speech, but here's one of the talk she gave last May at the Riverside Church.
Here are some more random pics from my trip. Every travel log must have...
The art shot.
Nightlife
A Wildlife encounter.
A moment with nature.
A moment where we eat nature.
OK, I cheated. One of those pictures is from a previous trip to Japan, but bet you can't tell which one.
I was looking forward to some quality Olympic viewing this weekend and discovered I don't get NBC?! I'm told that some shady deal between FCC and NBC resulted in a broadcasting tower worthy of your local pirate radio station. So if you live in San Francisco or Oakland, unless you have cable TV you are denied access to NBC. On any other day, this wouldn't bother me. But given that NBC has bought the rights to broadcase the Olympics, I'm being robbed!
It's the unalienable right of every sports fan to spend 2 weeks every 4 yrs immersed in the weirdness of synchronized swimming, cringing at face plants off the parallel bars, learning the requisite points taken for a fall from the high beam, marvelling at the average feet size of Olympic swimmers, dissecting the physics behind the hammer throw, spotting the smallest country represented at the games...All that Olympic fun is happening without me...I'm so sad...
Here's the first of maybe several entries on Japan. Please welcome the addition of pictures to this hack job site.
Two weeks felt way too short. There really is too much to eat, do, and see. Highlights include:
Sukiyaki at Mishima-tei: The beef is so perfectly marbled with fat that two slices filled my tummy and induced serious reflection on coronary well-being.
Gion Matsuri: One of the largest and oldest festivals in Japan takes place in the Shijo district of Kyoto, a.k.a my father’s backyard. We were amongst 450,000 people crammed into an 8 block radius to admire the ginormous hoko. About 1000 yrs ago, the emperor ordered the building of the hoko (which are mobile shrines) as a way to extend divine protection from the plague to specific neighborhoods without established shrines. Each hoko is about 3 stories high and have platforms where local residents play gion music which goes a little sumthin’ sumthin’ like…kon kon chiki chin. Anyway, each year for the last 900 and some years, these divine interventions on wheels have been assembled and dis-assembled--without using a single nail. (That last small, but noteworthy detail is for Alba’s amusement.) The highlight of the weeklong festival is a parade of the hoko along the streets of Kyoto. Seeing that this involves using ropes to pull the equivalent of a large house through the narrow streets of Kyoto in 100 plus degree weather, it’s a tad painful to watch. I much prefer roaming around the festival stalls, catching yo-yo water balloons, eating sugar coated strawberries, and wondering how to make more room in my stomach for some okonomiyaki.
Arashiyama Monkey Park: In addition to the tourist Must-Sees (the Golden Pavillion, the stone gardens of Ryoanji, Ninen zaka, Kiyomizu temple, beautiful gardens, little Boddhisatvas everywhere.) My Monkey travel mate had researched opportunities to see her brethren on the other side of the Pacific. On a random mountain top in the western part of Kyoto lies a monkey refuge populated by what my conservative estimates tell me were five bajillion monkeys. A short hike brought us to spectacular views of Kyoto cradled by dense green mountains, and confinement in a cage where extended monkey families clamor on the grating to gawk at the enclosed humans. It was weird. I noticed that monkeys have fingerprints and nails just like we do. Creepy.
Hotter than New Dheli: Tokyo was on its way to breaking the national record of 37 consecutive days above 30 degrees celsius. (That's roughly 90 farenheit for the celsius challenged.) We had several days that hit 40. We joined 10 million Tokyo-ites in the national past time of planning one's day around air conditioning, shaved ice, and roof top beer gardens.
Sorry for the low blog rate--not that anyone's been banging down the gates of Lunamania.
I will post something about my tasty travels in Japan, but want to have them accompanied by pictures. So, hold your breath and bookmark this site.
In the meantime, I can update about re-acclimating to my post-vacation life and realization that dude, it's AUGUST? Where did the summer go?
My acclimation to this wrong, wrong country was made easier by Elaine's visit--she was here for a writer's conference in Napa Valley. We drove up, and I got to hear Chang-Rae Lee read at the Copia Food Institute. He's one of my favorite authors, and I was dazed. I think it was part being star-struck in the presence of literary genius and part being perplexed about the Copia Food Institute. Copia is famous in gourmet circles for its exploration of "what brings people around the communal table." Apparently, this entails exhibits on the glorious history of the corkscrew, a kitchen named after Julia Child, and readings by Chang-Rae Lee. It's very Napa Valley.
Other adventures...The AIDS Ride Veteran Monkey somehow talked me into going on the Three Bears Bike Trail with her Hill Cyclists Club. I don't know how I ignored all the red flags--beware of any trail called "three bears", question the mental health of people signed on to a cycling club devoted to hills, I haven't been on a real bike ride in 10 yrs, I'm riding a mountain bike, I hates lactic acid build up.
The first leg took us along a beautiful lake and stretches of that incredible California farmland that always makes me think of the Joads in Grapes of Wrath. There were fun nature sightings including, cows who knew better than to be on a bicycle on a hot day, buzzards picking at a run over racoon, bluejays the size of the buzzards, and lizards the size of subway rats. It was all fun and games until we hit the turn onto Bear Creek Road, home of the 3 hills/bears that are this trail's namesake.
The details are too painful to recount. It sucked, but I made it with only one scraped leg. The scrapes were a result of spilling over a curb and executing some Cirque de Soleil worthy feats in order to avoid a nosedive down a gravelly, brambly, thorny ravine. After much grumbling on my part, I was told to bask in knowledge that I completed this terrible ride--on a mountain bike with no training. My consolation prize was a lunch of cheeseburgers and fries.
I must get back to work and then make time for the important task of figuring out my Olympic viewing schedule. Suggestions?