Colin Sad

I think it is good to get all cathartic once in a while, shed baggage and, well, point fingers. Colin Powell (former nicest person in what a made-for-TV-movie will one day call George Dubya, The First Years) has started to stretch his wings:

  • The Houston Chronicle says: “Former Secretary of State Colin Powell said in a television interview to be broadcast today that his 2003 speech to the United Nations, in which he gave a detailed description of Iraqi weapons programs that turned out not to exist, was ‘painful’ for him personally and would be a permanent ‘blot’ on his record.”
  • WebIndia 123 reports: “Powell told Walters government generally failed to prepare properly for Hurricane Katrina. I think there have been a lot of failures at a lot of levels — local, state and federal, he said. There was more than enough warning over time about the dangers to New Orleans. Not enough was done.”

Seeing as there is a reasonably valid connection to the state of affairs post-hurricane and thoughts on Homeland Security preparedness and response capability generally, these are…err…less than supportive statements post-9/11-wise. I wonder, now that GWB is polling in the low 40% range and dropping, whether the teflon is starting to finally wear off, whether actual acts and specific policies will be weighed for their own merit rather according to which side of the line drawn in the playground dirt you stand on as you scream “liar!” What will this quack do when he has to add a third dimension to his reality?

Tangent: bookends for two eras have struck me lately – one, Berlin Wall Fall to 9/11 and, second, 9/11 to Katrina. Essays in by noon please.

A Serb In Austin

Elderly well dressed couples from Austin show up in the afternoon, strolling among the evacuees smiling broadly and kindly at all of us. When they asked me, with the air of Princess Diana, “How are you doing? We see you managed to get your computer out,” I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I was from Serbia, and that I am doing fine.”

These observations at an Austin Texas refugee center are very interesting.

Professor Longhair

Someone I know says “longhair music!” with a humph when the wrong sort of classical music comes on the car radio.

There is another sort. I was thinking – as I am thinking too much – of the flooding down south and I remembered that I used to have a live double lp of Professor Longhair, the New Orleans blues pianist, probably on Atlantic records. I probably sold it in the great purge of ’92 when I sold my worldly goods to travel west. I recall the guy who bought it at the flea market saying “why are you selling this” – just like the person did who bought my They Might Be Giants CDs and like the kids did who I let pay less for my KISS comic book by Marvel (with real blood from the band members in the red ink!)…except they worked “woa” and “dude” into the question a few times.

There was something bouncy dancing about the piano played by Professor Longhair that I figured today I needed to get back – especially on “Big Chief”. I only found one cut, “Tipitana”, on a mixed discount CD of generic blues piano. Not good enough. I know I bought it in the 80s and I know I sold it over 13 years ago. It appears though that his albums were all live and pretty much all had a version of “Big Chief” [clip of version #37] and “Tipitana” [clip of version #841]. I would have thought the internets would have figured this stuff out by now.

Now it is all memory work, playing each 30 second cut from “Big Chief” from each CD – the concert in Germany (too fast), the concert in London (too slow) – over and over at Amazon to figure out which one it was. Thank God I held on to all my punk lps. That is all I can say. Thank God.

Whiggery

I am surprised by the interest I am apparently sustaining in reading Saul Cornell’s book The Other Founders: Anti-Federalism and the Dissenting Tradition in America, 1788-1828.

One thing I am learning a bit about is whig republicanism, a movement that probably (if I knew anything) can be dated between roughly 1660 to 1820 in the USA and UK. It is pre-romantic but post-divine right. Something about meritocracy combining with disinterested civil duty. Natural leaders leading the three classes with respect for the roles of each of the three classes. They never fully organized in the UK and never really led the American revolution but heralded the transition to democracy…sort of…I think.

Anyone know more about the whigs and can you recommend any reading?

My Day South

Up in the middle of the night with too much road head. We went into CNY for some Labour Day weekend treat gathering, flipping back and forth between sports radio and crisis news until the Prairie Home Companion took us around eastern Lake Ontario, through sunset and dusk, north along beautiful highway #3 from Oswego to Watertown.

Through our travels we got to give to the Sally Ann as well as the American Red Cross through folk making it easy to give while going about doing their job. Rudy’s in Owsego had big jugs on the counter on a very busy Saturday night pouring all tips and whatever else customers wanted, all to be given to the ARC. Good to see. Good also to see that they were happy to take Canadian as well both for the tip jar and their wonderful fish sandwiches and little crab cakes. $2.09 USD for a Genny Cream to go with that…except they let me pay in CND at par. What was that about – a tribute to Bangour Maine circa 1975? The tip jar got the difference and more.

Gas prices were everywhere from $3.15 USD in Clay, a suburb NW of Syracuse, to around $3.60 USD in the Watertown area another hour north. The same US gallon cost around $4.11 in USD in Canada – that’s at $1.30 CND a litre. portland reported $3.00 USD in southern Maine Friday. I took my own over out of some personal plan to micro-manage gas supply. Crossing back we got to witness four early twenties lassies make the error of trying to sneak a shopping spree past customs. Oh dear.

Best line of the day? NPR’s Car Guys:

Brother #1: what happened to all the drive-in movie places anyway?
Brother #2: global. warming.
[Brother #1 then has coffee come out his nose and laughs for the next five minutes.]

In a day almost entirely based on going to place already known and liked, we even got to have lunch at Ann’s in Cape Vincent, home of the nicest waitresses on the planet, right after being allowed to enter by the nicest US customs guard who, when we said we may go to the State Fair, looked right into the back seat at the kids and said with a big smile “you let get them to buy you lots of candy, lots of candy, you hear?”