The Sport Utility Paradigm

Pardon me do you have any grey poupon?

I wrote this a while ago, but still seems relevant as people start to spend money on their loved ones where do they put it? what is purchased is a good sign of the gap between those still rebounding always in peril economically and people investing in ostentatious means remains wide. Read the article, but there is still a drive for status symbols on the high end(return of fur, bright colored and high end "casual" shirts) and utility on the low end(levi's ad campaign, productivity aps, emigration to detroit).

After WWII the jeep exploded as homage to the dedication of the troops and can do attitude of America. The jeep evolved till the 70’s at witch time they had the Jeep Cherokee and Grand Cherokee that were unchanged for 30+ years, nothing lasts that long in cars. These were cars tested in the extreme off road courses of southern California, built to take you anywhere. The era of Jeep has faded and morphed in to the luxury of capability. You could drive up a 14ner or pick up the kids from soccer. Did the utility of the Jeep die or did we grow out of it? Hit shows like survivor man and man vs. wild are tell-tales of the rebirth of capability. Whether luxury or utility, it’s about the ease of getting things done. The stories and tricks in survivor man may be fascinating, but when was the last time anyone was trapped on a desert island. Filling a sand pit with hot rocks and food is useful tool to anyone living on the coast with a taste for cooking. Do people dream of doing or actually want the things they purchase to take them somewhere? Or is the story to tell here is the balance of overly complex with the ease of capability. Camping the desert would have been a death sentence without military training in the 50’s, now it’s a weekend trip. Printing a book was the job of an entire company of professionals from layout to printing, now its done in someone’s den.

PS. lots of fun photohunting for this. sometimes its nice to have a little decadence, otherwise the basics will do. Time travel,

Democracy leaking through our fingers

The flash conference put on by Personal Democracy Forum(PDF) was stirred by a “hinge moment for numerous issues,” raised by Wikileaks. Experts and luminaries in diplomacy, academia, and journalism sparked a dialogue, breaking into the top twitter trending topics and 2,000 viewers in its first hour of streaming. Panelists were asked to discuss four topics as varied as their backgrounds, from valuating the Internet, to the importance of trust and transparency in different private and public institutions. The talks were aimed to review the importance of how media evolves in a digital age, inclusive of free speech. The spark point of Wikileaks gave way to questions examining the new landscape of the digital age and how the innovation of the Internet applies to the world of media. Jeff Jarvis called to action a review of rights in a new age. “We need a point of reference, a bill of rights . . . Assange is part of it but we need to go beyond leaks and talk about the structure of peer to peer exchange.” Web 2.0 has lasted well beyond its fledgling expiration date. More people turn to mobile and online sources than radio and newspaper combined (Pew, 2010).



Trust has been instilled in the flow of information from new outlets. Carne Ross commented, “If government didn’t lie, Wikileaks wouldn’t be as potent.” News outlets, that model themselves after Wikileaks, will gain the lost trust that was garnered by the watchdog media. “You’ve heard of voting with your feet? The sources are voting with their leaks. If they trusted the newspapers more, they would be going to the newspapers,” said Jay Rosen, NYU professor and media critic. Mark Pesce talked about how the record companies had to struggle with the flow of information and restructuring their business as consumers bridled the flow of information away from institutions. “These are birthing pains,” Gideon Litchfield, Deputy editor for The Economist, commented on the pendulum swinging of a radically new for of media. “Is there black and white answer here, (no) it’s a red hearing. Other organization will spring up and learn from Wikileaks failure.” During the open forum panelist and audience members raised questions about the legitimacy of hacktivism and groups like Anonymous in support of free speech. Panelist and audience member called the DDoS attack the digital age equivalent of a sit-in. Dave Winer, NYU scholar, critiqued the stability of 1st amendment speech under private service providers, where site hosting services from Amazon.com can no longer be trusted to ensure freedom of speech to journalist or bloggers.

Although each speaker had more than 140 characters to say, the flurry of information was only a “byte” of larger conversations everyone was alluding to. Many great questions were raised, which ultimately left an unfulfilling laissez faire feeling that already clings to the Internet. PDF promoted their upcoming conference, but with so much discussion of public forum and peer information exchange we will have to see how the Internet citizenry will adopt to this restructuring of media and journalism.

We are what we eat

For some, food isn’t quite green enough. In our recent excursion to San Francisco, we talked with some cutting edge eco-conscious foodies. San Francisco has long been a leader in conscious eating, from slow food, biodynamic wines to composting. Lately, California foodies have been pushing the envelope and adding a new way to eat locally.
Iso Rabin, founder of Forage SF San Francisco’s underground food market is taking eco-friendly food to the next level. Forage SF’s misson is:

Our goal is to push people out of the supermarket, to get them trying new foods harvested sustainably and fairly by their neighbors. As part of our community focused philosophy, 50% of the profit from the sale of any product we purchase from a forager goes straight to that individual . That is, to the person who collected it.

Foraging adds a new layer to eating local adding more sustainability and community. Where locavores, eat food with in a 100 mile radius, foraging happens right within your city. Local parks and trees become the shopping market. This might spur dialogue between consumers and their food sources.
Iso rabin’s created the underground market which features budding entrepreneurs that cant afford the costs of farmers markets or organic certifications, but strive to offer a sustainable food as well. This is a unique opportunity for those to take their passion and put them to the challenge before they quit their day jobs. The more people that are involved in creating their own food the more chance local eating can become a possibility. Foragers are pushing forward the frontier of greening food; we are what we eat, after all.

Developing an Old Art

The people at Impossible Project were gracious enough to let me have a sneak peak at the new space they have for an old art. Since Polaroid closed down its factory in 2008, a group of enthusiast and fans got behind fading technology and started the Impossible Project. Tomorrow the Impossible Project opens its doors in hopes of bringing back the lost art of Polaroid and the magic that happens before your eyes. The once lost film will back on the shelves for sale near you soon enough.

Check it out their Grand Opening tomorrow from 3pm-8pm at 425 Broadway NYC. Its an amazing space and should be an amazing event with plenty of goodies being raffled away (They are raffling away backpacks made out of recycled Polaroid delivery truck siding, pretty neat).

Is twitter’s new business model a disruptor for twitter

Twitter, among others, has begun talking bout how it will monetize its business. Twitter is talking about monetizing search words. Wait a gosh darn second, doesn’t that mean that a platform that has become notorious for its holding companies accountable and pushing transparency will be selling the literal words out from under its users?

its the small things

Now that I've been in New york city for just over 3 months, I've noticed how its the small things that make my day. Take the H&M building for example, as you walk along the block opposite, its the only place that you get sunshine on the block. its the small things.
Its like the subway platform walls at prince street that have the silhouettes of people. the ambiguous outline of a curious man in a wheel chair or a lazy drunk.

The out of myth for our times

A while ago I was struck by something that Joeseph Campbell said.

During an interview with Bill Moyers he was asked what he believed was a myth of our time. His response has stuck with me for quite some time. Although his frame of reference for societies that generated myths evolved over many many centuries, as did their myths. Our society seems to be evolving much more rapidly than their so why wouldn’t our myths. We may not generate the same class of myths, such as Gilgamesh or The Odessy, maybe more mini-myths.

MY CASE:
Lately there has been an eruption of the true value of technology. How much time does this really save? Is it environmental mining all these rare elements for technology? Is technology making us dumber? There has been no overarching senate committee assembled to answer these questions, no think tank and no religious pundits (really no pundits). These questions have been turned over to the arts, as they were in the times of Gilgamesh. Movies have begun to weave the stories of unknown. Starting with star wars, THX -1138, Star Trek . . but since these frame stories were filled with the classic stories of father/son connection, rebellious youth .. the frame became its own story. Movies that follow those of Iasic Asimov, like I am Robot. Enemy of the state is one that touches on the pervasiveness of technology, coincidentally both with Will Smith.

There is one riff that I wanted to peer into. Between Enemy of the state and D.J. Caruso’s new flick with Shia Lebouf, Eagle eye, there comes an issue with technology. Enemy of the state touches on the power of technology in the hands of the renegade few. Where eagle eye removes the human element and places the control in the hands of computers/technology. The frame story of technology taking control is interesting, is it the power of Google when we search for the capital of a small country in Europe and once we find the exact number we move on. Compare that information searching to that of a good old school library. You have to find the encyclopedia look up the country, possible get distracted along the way. But the fact that you have invested so much more time into the mission of fact-finding, you don’t mind picking up a couple other facts along the way. Cutting down on the time expenditure has also cut down on the information found. These nightmarish tales, some might even call them myths, of computer overpowering the control of information and using it to their own idea of “right,” have become more and more prevalent.

Look what I popped

The King is dead, long live the King. Congrats to our new president. Let us remember our 43 president as a zit we popped on the back of America, and lets move one. Let us clean up the mess that was released when we popped him and smile as the blemish that remains, fades away and we continue forward, forever washing ourselves of evil.


the face he made before we popped the massive zit.

Dinners, resolutions in action

Again, my blog has become reticent. In my time of pause and reflection, (read as, lack of will and laziness) I noticed how nice it is to rest your voice. Too often, I feel, people fill, or find cause to fill, the conversation with nothing. There is nothing more painful than nothing. . .. (an awkward pause you should find solitude in, thus taking the awkward out of it.)

I actually took some time to pause and reflect coming into the new year. By no means was I silent, I just didn't use my soap box as frequently. I didn't want to go all willy-nilly with my new years resolutions. It seems to be part of the resolution, do something you can only upkeep long enough that you feel slightly better about yourself, then smash it to smithereens(who thought 'smithereens' would be in spell check). So, in my concerted effort I came up with the following resolutions: drink less and spend more time doing things that make you happy*. For some, these seem impossible and could even be tearing me in two directions, they did new years morning. I had to have a Bloody Mary to reconcile the PBR and champagne imbibed. You picked up on the asterisk, did you, I planned on this short fall and many others. The drinking has picked up quite a few fine print rules to help curb my consumption (side note: my self induced prohibition has come about for some financial reasons, as well as some health ones. Sure my liver hates me for taking a victory lap in college, just as much as my wallet hates my for buying another round for that girl and myself at the bar, both were unavoidable.)

Resolution 1: Curbing, or at least reducing unnecessary drinking has taken on the following rules to guide me through it. RULE 1: no more than 4 drinks a week (some debate remains about whether all drinks can be saved for one night or not). RULE 2: drinks with dinner don't count. I know this sounds likes an obvious loop hole. Especially after 4 drinks over dinner, I can see my inebriated mind crumbling to another 4 drinks. Like the ice packed in the bottom of a glass I'm holding fast, at least you until the next rule. RULE 3: birthdays don't count. I love my friends too much to not be out making a fool next to them, when their moment to shine comes.

Resolutoin 2: Having more fun, perfectly non-descriptive. This one is modeled for the marathon that is 2009 and the rest of my life. No I didn't go out and buy a bunch of remote control cars and Gak, thought about it though. This resolution is about slowly steering my life closer to somewhere I will always want to be. This is still somewhat of an abstract concept, but hey, that's half the fun. To give you, and me, more of an idea, I started a short list to help keep me on a slow and steady track. Travel, I already made it to San Francisco, for a treat of my own (while everyone was gallivanting around during the holidays, I was a busy little bee working so that I could have 3 glorious days in the California sunshine only to come back to 7 inches of snow.) Hopefully San Francisco is just a start. Cooking, I love cooking and its often hard to find the time to cook a meal for myself. Its down right hard, I have to pick up little Mikey and Tim from soccer, make sure I'm in time so I don't burn the pot roast that I'm donating this weekend .. BS. Yeah I have time, but this resolution is a matter of increasing the fun. Cooking is a blast, why do it by yourself (sex is interchangeable here. Haven't found a way to mix the two yet, keep the scientists working on it.) Finally, Photography, art in general, but taking pictures seems to work best with my lack of fine motor skills. I know its a marathon but I went a head and put a couple of these all together, not the sex and photography, this is a family blog, shesh. There is nothing better to cure a case of the Mondays than a fine meal, with fine friends. I hope to keep this going and expand it slowly.


Chef in the house, repping my new Goorin bros. hat


Apps were delicious. Nothing more than a loaf of sourdough and some balsamic and olive oil.


Tofu green bean salad with a burnt orange serrano sauce.


Main course was rosemary lemon chicken on a bed of mozzarella and cherry tomatoes with mushrooms and bell peppers, Delicious.


How can you not have a glass of wine with dinner when its this good!


And of course whats better than good friends with good food.

Cause for celebration?

What an election, truly flabbergasted. Congrats to president elect. Congrats to America. Obama's speech was the rush of air, in relief of baited breath held of how to find common ground between two side of a seemingly opposed parties. but are we so far from each other. both parties cried for change or being a maverick and ready to do things differently. the 349 to 162 in electoral votes seems like a landslide, yet a 7 million people difference, out of 111 million, doesn't seem that drastic. the battle for North Carolina and Missoiuri makes the outcome of these candidates were even closer. how does a race so close still rouse threats to expatriate? Did Bush instill a strong identity and a following and McCain is just the fall-out?

Is Barack's podium of change going to be that hard for us stand behind. will we listen to the actions that need to be done so that we don't pass up our opportunity as we would if it were a vagrant on the streets asking for change. in reality, the differences between the bi-polar ideologies aren't that stark. we are all Americans and when we unify under the banner of saving the environment or protecting ourselves from terrorism, we do a good job of succeeding. when the opportunity of confrontation arises between yourself and someone different, its the movement towards someone else's interests that will make a difference. when some says pro life and you think they should have been aborted, bite your tongue and listen to why. what motivates us isn't to drastic. lets listen to those who ask for change.

WHAT, WHAT, WHAT?

I knew their demise couldn't last too long. Nau is now back, dontcha know? Their blog was excellent, glad to see its back up and running. Interested to hear about why someone brought them back and whats the new plan of attack.

signs of democracy

I like this. I like the end point that the actors came to outside of AB and did it with a small comedy group. Maybe that's a sign that the economy is that bad.

Let your imagination die

This is probably a side effect of thinking to early, but . .
Perhaps it’s the crisp cold smell of fallen leaves that bring up the topic of change and death. The topic of death seems to be following me slightly closer. Lyle Owerko has put out some cool work but he keeps being noted as that one guy who photographed the world trade center jumpers (his work is worth more credit than a one hit wonder). However people’s draw towards the work is undeniable. What is it with people’s fascination of death? “What were they thinking right before they jumped?” “The rush of oxygen must have made them pass out, no-one would jump in their right mind” “does your life actually flash before your eyes?”
Maybe it’s the looming of all hallows eve (the best holiday in American culture, in my humble opinion), but the personage of how American’s think about death, is all about us. The ominous scarecrows on porches and the shadowy faces carved in pumpkins, all point us to America’s fear of death. SIDE NOTE: Most countries in the world celebrate death, as much as anyone can celebrate the death of friends, family, et cetera. Other cultures understand that death is inevitable and celebrate death as another step in life. Just as you have your years of teenage angst, you have your dead years. We on the other hand have built a billion dollar industry on shielding us from death. We have medicine to extend a terminal life, we have housing for our elderly loved ones (healthcare provides approx. 13 million job of which 25% are for elder care); death seems to be an admission of our flaws, loss and defeat. One the other side of our coin of denial is a bottomless pit of imagination that fosters its own industry, scary movies, Halloween costumes and candies.
All industry and notes aside, when people talk about death they talk about it with imagination. I’m sure you could pass people through MRI machines and see the creative centers in their brain light up like a Technicolor dream. I’m sure this isn’t any profound idea. Any time you peer into the unknown, you use your creativity. The simple fact is, that it is unknown.
I was discussing with some friends earlier this week, as Chuck Klosterman nears the end of his novel, living to die, I half expected a summation of why we canonize all of the artists that die. Some artist live underwhelmed lives but their death creates an explosion of fame. Other artist, meet death as they were half expected to die, that would be the only way people could see that artists career go. However they die and what their path may have been fans like to preserve the image of their death famed artists in their own mind. In a fans mind they can have a pristine image of what they want, with out any corruption. With art creativity come easily, with the fear of the unknown dusting off the unfamiliar art of creativity is harder. Fear seems to become some. It seems as though some people have a fear of their creative side just as much as they fear death. Maybe chuck had it right, don’t tell us what to think about death leave us to our own tools, let us become the artists of fame and the result will be much more fearful.

Jus' chillaxin'

You can't make this shit up. Relics in my yard




There was an amazing double rainbow, but I felt like taking a picture of the trash instead




Who has a miner cart in their backyard, I DO



"Horse shack," an un-known diddy by the B-52s




My unbelievable back yard

My procrastination project

A pic taken by my college roomie, Bredan (very talented photo taker). Only some touch up. Much love for Tyler "Baker" Thurman, the skater in the frame.



The Tres Hombres headed to surf trestles.



Suiting up



The two boys into the water like fish



Dude you totally could have kicked that guys ass from prison break, that was him right?
Man he had a huge head.

Boulder Love

Never thought I would see so much heart in a wolf tee! Nor did I think my next door neighbor and tallest kid ever that I played lax with would come out with music as sick as this. Much boulder love!

right department?

With the economy in shambles I have been trying to reshuffle my finances so that I can best managing them. Suffice to say, it’s a mess to begin with. Three different firms, seven accounts and no unified plan. As I go about consolidating them, one rises to the top, of being a royal pain in my ass. Charles Schwab, if you know him well you can call him chuck, or just call him chuck anyway. This cheap marketing ploy is weak at best. The lack of connection between the idea to how the Charles Schwab business is run, is none existent. You would hope that talking to chuck would mean that everyone is personable and friendly. Hopefully when you talk to “chuck” he listens, right? Euro RSCG is one of the largest agencies in the world. No blame to them, great campaign, shake of the finger to the partnership between the two. Just as they talk about in Life After the 30 Second Spot, agencies need to do more than just write a new idea for each client. The idea works, but Chuck isn’t there to answer the phone.
My side of the story:
Closing an account was a pain. I had to activate an online account to avoid the transaction fee. In order to get the account to work I had to call, go into the office, show my ID, go back home and then closeout the account. Why cant they, one, put a computer in the lobby or solve the back and forth. Two, have the online assistance service be able to process the order for me. If I was someone who traded regularly the ease of doing one trade for me would be a great aid.
Changing the name on my account. For some reason my account had my mothers last name and not mine. Apparently the names have to match perfectly, never mind your social security number. After talking with the people in the office again, I was referred to the client services department. It took me three client service representatives and a manager telling me that my name is different and asking for proof of name change to get no where. It shouldn’t have taken so many people (Insert joke, how many Charles Schwab employees does it take to _________. My fav. How many Charles Schwab consultants does it take to screw you in the ass? 4, something I never want to see). I have bosses, parents and teachers that have told me what to do. I don’t need my finical firm telling me that my name is wrong and I need to fix it. Having everyone trying to be so polite and using my mother’s last name calling me Mr. Flaster, didn’t help. Oh the irony. Calling to correct them on my name and they don’t listen. “I’m sorry Mr. Flaster, there is nothing I can do . . Mr. Flaster you must fill out this form.”
Sure there are rules that help govern a company. But, if you are presenting the image of being a helpful listener, you should at least remove some bureaucracy, or cross-train people so that they can actually help your clients. At the end of my many calls, I asked if I was talking to the right department. Maybe I should be talking with the marketing department, since there is no way client services can help me.

Long posts, unacceptable

MY SINCEREST apologies. My last post was way to long. Although something’s need to be said, as I felt with my last post, they are best said concisely. to present a worthwhile apology, I must abridge last post.

Think about why things are the way they are, how they can be better? Sometimes you need to avoid the argument of the semantics to solve the problems of your semantics.

I love the short and sweet. It makes everything better, from design, art, culture even science (ie. E=mc2). HOWEVER, making something short and sweet for being short and sweet has become too much of a crutch. Take a look at the problem and everything it touches, then solve the WHOLE problem.

ROAD LESS TRAVELED

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet, knowing how way leads onto way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
And I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference


Robert Frost


With politics looming and an end date looming, fate seems to hang on a Tuesday in November. I feel like there is a political meltdown in the midst. Everyone seems to keep pointing me towards political conversations no mater how far I run in the opposite direction from them. A journey to this point needs to start somewhere, what better place than the path laid before us.

I awoke today with a swirl of the dream from last night fluttering on my consciousness. Although the details and twists of the dream were, as dreams are, over-the-top, phantasmal and euphoric, the base of the dream is what stirred me. As psychologist or wing nut dream analyst would, I stripped away all of the flourishing delights of my dream journey. I’m not a sci-fi writer so I will spare you the details that I enjoyed behind closed eyelids. But, I dreamed of an Asimov like state. The world was governed by the logic of Google, science, technology and probability. Problems arose when human nature wasn’t part of the calculation, and humans began to be shuffled as computers saw fit.
I don’t want to delve into what my dream state was thinking about human nature, it had something to do with trying to explain technology and thermostat to my quintessential Jewish grandmother. She just wanted to freeze at the minimal 60 degrees and save some money, no bother to let the temperature be more comfortable.
This is neither here nor there.
After settling my mind and regrettable skipping breakfast, I went about resolving some questions poised to me, either internally or off the cuff comments that have stuck with me.
Lets start chronologically-ish. A couple of weeks I went to a remarkable speaker and debate. The keynote speaker was James Kunstlers, after his rousing speech about how society was built on petroleum as source for our energy and in turn our physical society was designed such (you have to take a plane, car or even a bus to get most anywhere). That we have reached peak oil consumption and all the problems dealing with a commodity that everyone so desperately needs, but we have to think about how to redesign our life’s to fit an alternate fuel source. Something that will eventually have to be able to run with out a drop of oil. Petroleum is a much more farther reaching commodity than we think of. Without petroleum, we have pharmaceuticals, no transportation, no alternative to lumber.
The debate following was a “hot mess” as some might describe it, I can really think of no better term. One panelist was in an out roar of how fear inspiring the lecture was and how name calling of Palin was unnecessary. The token republican on the panel agrees. Others noted, “forget the oil crisis, the ice caps will melt in 5-10 and this will be much worse than any prison sentence handed out.” The gentleman in the nicely ironed oxford noted how inspiring environmentalist/ entrepreneurs will save us. Worry about the environment. Let capitalism save us. We need to redesign our society. We have no oil. Don’t be mean, you big meanie. Vote early and vote often!
Of course no conclusion was settled.
After the panel exited with many of the observers, I saw some of my parent’s friends. We caught up and jumped into dialogue of the topics. They especially wanted to what my reaction was and whom I agreed with most. Most of my parent’s friends were deep in the hippie era. I told them how I thought most of the pundits were very ironic, the condescending lady caring the banner of compassion. Everyone trying to hold there voice over the next person in line to talk. Each cause was more worth than the next. They insisted that MY GENERATION was the most important in deciding what happens next. We need to vote to make sure we are heard and that we help make the change that hasn’t fully set in since the hippie movement in the sixties. We are the new hires affecting companies. We are the new investors. I could have flown out of the auditorium with all of the empowerment they besieged me with.
However, the one analogy that stuck with me was a story from Apollo 13. When the astronauts were stuck, time winding down, the end game approaching, what were they to do. The engineers on the ground compiled a cardboard box of everything they had on board, dumped the contents on to a table and worked until a solution was reached. It seems as though that’s where we are now. Anything that is none essential needs to be scrapped and put into a cardboard box and dumped out on our national table, from sea to shinning sea, for the amber grains of gold, and purple mountains of majesty. Lets go dumpster diving and get every cardboard box we can. Lets get leaders that understand this and embrace our paradigm.
After this event presidential and vice presidential debates ensued. Change battled with Real Change. Biden battled McCain. Palin can wink and she IS a Maverick. Tina Fey made fun of it all. What battle had I tuned into, comedy battled fear. After 8 years of material has built careers for comedians. When we have a real choice in the face crisis the joke only seem callow (I still love you Jon Stewart, keep up the good work). On the other side candidates were still selling themselves. It was a battle of brand, slogans and company lines. Where was the fine print? What was each person’s plan? What were they putting in the cardboard box? These were bonafide leaders. They were political party figure heads, not mavericks.
I continued to be unsettled. One of my good friends who continually sends me pieces of political thought for me to chew on sent me an interview of Naomi Wolf. Although hard to believe, she rallied up her cause of the dire situation of the precedents set before us. Is America coming to the end of its 200 yearlong path. Have we veered from so far from the constitution that we lost. Its been a source for democracy around the world. If we have drifted so far from it how well has it served us. Although her words were quit strong, you can also see that she is a nervous wreck. I can’t support fear mongering on either side of the political spectrum; it only polarizes people further and doesn’t help reach a conclusion. She didn’t bring one helpful insight. Who where the people that stared our country and not just the founding fathers, the founding generation? What burdens did they bare to help us get here. What path did they walk?
Do we need new leaders? As I watched the clip my friend sent me I drifted back throw some of the over conversation that we have had. Here comes the chronologically-ish part. About a year ago an online movie came out, the zeitgeist movie. Recently another one of my friend sent out a mass email about it. Having not seen it in a while, I redressed it. The website was updated and had a sequel. Very befitting of economic crisis, the first chapter of the film unwound the economic system. I’ll try and synthesis what I have learned and what Naomi and the zeitgeist film are getting at. The constitution was design for the people to govern the people, corporations were originally design to perform simple projects on short controlled process. People were to run their own lives. Especially in the last hundred years we have dealt these responsibilities. We didn’t want to take the time, or didn’t have the educational grasp that our founding fathers did and have changed the paradigm of government, business and society.
Our debate for the next candidate roars on. We blindly trudge down this path. There are innumerable problems that politicians dance from one topic to the next. Each topic can’t even be covered in 2-minute (two minutes in heaven is better than one, right?) reactions and they are all linked together to stay on only one topic. Pundits bounce riffs and jabs back and forth about whom is more flawed. They are all right, are they not? Plain jokes a re hilarious, Obama needs to give us answers to change. We walk down the same path nonetheless. I think its time that we start to look at the path we walk down.
One person recounted how, during 9/11 people stood there in a burning building waiting for someone to tell them what to do. This is the depressingly sadistic nature of our country in crisis. We don’t want responsibility. Tell us what to do. I don’t think this was a conscious decision, but has happened through time. The House of Representatives is no longer representative, its been capped. People that are elected need MILLIONS of dollars to get elected. CSPAN should be our neighbors discussing what we need to do. Debates should be professionals, Joe six packs and hockey moms discussing their concerns. We don’t need new leaders. We need revolutionaries. The pundit that wanted the future to rest in the inventive minds of entrepreneurs had it somewhat right. There are brilliant people out there that like fixing these problems. We all need to be involved in this. We all need to be working on what is going in to the cardboard box and what we create with it. We need experts, we need revolutionaries, we need everyone!

Welcome to the joyus circus of public transit

PRE-DAY 1: I have been riding the bus for a couple months, it took a a while to open up my eyes and take a deep breath of what was going on around me(don't worry I didn't want to throw up at the rancor smells that live on RTD buses, actually pretty clean). Being a 6 foot 3 large body, cramming in a less than airline sized seat doesn't appeal to me. Punctuality and me don't get along either, but when it comes to riding the bus, I'm early. Arriving early is crucial in sequestering one of the two rows of seats that have extra leg room, so much room that I occasional find myself slouching to maxmize my body to floor ratio. ironically these oversized seats are adjacent to the handicapped area(RTD logic: put all of the uncomfortable people together, those in a wheelchair next to those with oversized legs. people with oversized legs can sadistically fantasize about not having legs like their neighbor in the wheel chair. RTD I'm onto your charade)
DAY 1: on this particular day I'm rewarded with this thrown of an bus seat. The bus starts to quickly fill and it becomes apparent that I won't have the thrown room to myself. As a beautiful, princess of a woman, walks the aisle, our eyes spark. A whole 45 minutes of titillating conversation and mild flirting brighten my bus ride. The spark is all I'm left as she passes me for an open seat.
I must have missed the joker that laughed at me, when he saw this karmic swap coming. A giant of a man boards the bus and plops down next to. I'm sure he was as glad to see a thrown still available on the bus. I'm now pressed against the emergency release railing of the window(my greatest fear slash rebelious act, is holding up the bus unavoidable by pushing the emergency glass out, or just pulling the cord for a stop no body wants). I feel like a stress release toy, my eyes might just pop out. The man reaches up to his face with sausage links for fingers and buries a knuckle into his nose.
I'm locked into this event.
Its like staring at the sun.
It hurts so bad but I cant retch my eyes away from the vulgarity.
His nostrils bulge with the mass of his finger embedded into his nasal cavity. He withdraws a winner! This greenish gold blob covers the gambit of booger textures. It starts with a crisp dry crunchy anchor and slowly morphs into something that could almost be spat out as phlegm. It very well could as it strings out of his nose. This booger could actually be hacked up and spat out from the otherside. Jack Blacks voice echoes;"If its stuck together its technically one booger". Anything is possible, welcome to the circus.
For David Blanes next trick, I will disappear into the giant blob. My mothers conscientious snaps me back. "You shouldn't stare." The man is enthralled with his catch of the day. He probably would never notice that there is someone slowly being enveloped by actions, as well as, his mass. I avert my eyes to my book, no way am I reading. I just don't want to see where the golden nugget ends up. Its dangerously close to his mouth. anything could happen, David Blane is performing miracles on the 4:05 Boulder Express. I assume that the booger doesn't end up in his mouth by the giggle that resonates his body. He has probably meshed this masterpiece of a archaeological dig from the darkside of his nasal cavern into his masterpiece of thrift store plaid. My guilt of voyeurism shields me from whats going on for a couple minutes.
I'm drawn back in. I want to see whats going on in the other rings of this big top circus. I peel back my guilt and walk back into the big top. The round mass sitting next to me has comfortably fallen asleep. I feel like I could fall asleep. This man is putting off more warmth than a space blanket, a nice contrast to the jet of cold air coming off the window, which i am firmly pressed against. I could just fall asleep, I'm sure this man would make a great pillow.
As I start to find an eerie comfort I see something glimpse over at me from a couple rows in front of me. It looks like an oversized eraser head superglued to a drive-in screen of a forehead. Hooray another ring in this glorious circus. Bus-fare is a better deal than HBO. This enormous mole like growth(no way in science, could this be benign. It must be sought after like the holy grail of Oncology, maybe there is reward money out for it). Its bobbing on the horizon of the seat back. It looks like the hero from a Sergio Leone spaghetti western, riding off into the sunset(the sunset happen to be the oversized forehead). Maybe I should sign this growth to a contract, I could make a pretty penny as its agent. Fugitive mole turns actor, its got street cred. "The mole with no name" in the Good, The Bad and THE Mole.
I swirl about in this ocean of abnormalities, a swell of comfort washes over me. Its not because I can feel well with in the margins of normalcy, in comparison, which I do. These are my neighbors on the bus as well as off. Throwing aside the canvas of the big top circus and all of my preconceived notions, I chat with my neighbor. He has arisen from his slumber and joined me in reading(he has probably been actually reading).
Immediately my shame of internal judgment punches me in the nuts "how could you be mean, this man is a saint." Gasping for air, my inner douche-bag mutters a rebuttal, "a saint of boogers." My inner asshole is to busy gasping and choking to interrupt what has become a splendid conversation. As we get off the bus, the princess tries to create a spark again I can only glean over the conversation I just had. "I don't need you. I have my friend David Blane the saint of boogers." I give my friend a hand shake as we part ways. I would have given a grand hug, but booger doesn't look good on me.