The Debate Tonight

A cure for insomnia. The government could make the money for the bailout by selling tapes.

New Planting

People who live in colder climates are winding down the garden at this point. But in California we've only begun the fall planting. Temperatures are still in the 80s and, while it cools down more in the evening, the soil is still warm enough to plant newbies. And I can plant lettuce! Our summers are too hot for even the most heat-tolerant lettuces. They bolt in about an hour. But we can plant lettuce in the fall, and they will do well until mid-November--unless it gets very cold. Protection against snails and slugs is a must, so J puts copper tape around each pot. Whitefly is another pest--I have to spray each lettuce every day to discourage them.

And 'tis the season of plant sales. Last weekend J voluntarily took me to the local California Native Plant Society sale. And then he took me to Robert Hamm's sale, where I purchased things I didn't need. But I managed to squeeze them all in, and we are beginning to think about the next section of the front yard.

As it turns out, we're going to have to leave a small portion of the front yard unplanted, as we have a future mighty oak sprout and have decided to allow it to become a tree. But this still leaves plenty of territory. J has asked for more red feather grass, as that's done extremely well next to the driveway, and we're going to move the unhappy penstemon from under the eucalyptus tree to a sunnier location. And I will finish off the erigeron border, which seems to be the only plant providing continuity throughout the yard.

I know I should be thinking about the crisis brought about by the morons on Wall Street, but I have so little to say that hasn't been said better by others.

Something Important

I was going to write a profound post today. But I devoted a good part of yesterday to cleaning the kitchen counter, cleaning off two bulletin boards, cleaning the cooktop and the outside of the fridge. It's difficult to compose profound thoughts as you stand on a chair reaching for the back of the top of the fridge with a sponge. And today's activities aren't any more exciting. I have to clean the shower, both bathrooms and wash the kitchen floor. If I have time, I then need to dust and vacuum the living room.

I know--our financial system is crashing, the government is bailing out people who should have known better, and we may elect a vice-president who approves of shooting wolves out of helicopters. (There's a video on YouTube of that--it's gross, disgusting and cruel.) But I will take up thinking tomorrow. Maybe.

Scary Headline

From Drudge: Bush says he's working hard on economic turmoil

We are lost. We are lost.

Sarah Palin on ANWR

Uh, comrades, it's likely that it's damn near impossible to find an Alaskan who doesn't support drilling in ANWR. Oil and gas royalties provide 85% of state revenues in Alaska. Alaskans pay almost nothing in state and local taxes because they have the oil money. If I were Alaskan and could get past the polar bear problem and the environmental degradation thing, I might support ANWR drilling too. And Alaskans, looking to the future, see the eventual exhaustion of the North Slope/Prudhoe Bay fields--already these have declined from producing 2 million barrels per day to producing about 800,000.

Why I Will (Probably) Vote for Obama

A friend telephoned last night, just before Obama spoke at the convention. I mentioned that I thought it was interesting that people would assume that those who would take race into account in their decision-making would therefore vote against Obama. I am taking race into account, and that means that I am more likely to vote for him than I would for a white candidate who took the same positions. (It should be noted, of course, that I come from the left and that I'd be more likely to vote for McKinney or Nader if I don't vote for Obama. McCain is not an option.)

In 1992 I voted for Bill Clinton. It was the first and only time I voted for him. I knew that he'd most likely renege on the important positions, and he did. Within weeks of taking office he was already returning the Haitian refugees to certain death. And from there it just got worse.

And unlike Bill Clinton, who graciously waited until after the election, Obama is already backsliding. He said that he would get us out of Iraq. Now he will--someday. He has already crawled into bed with the Wall Street boys who, in case he hasn't noticed, did silly, stupid things that have made a complete hash of the economy. Instead of being brave enough to explain that offshore oil-drilling will have a negligible effect on oil prices, and that we could save more oil than we could ever produce if we just increased the fuel-efficiency of the cars on our roads, he now thinks that drilling might be a good idea. (C'mon folks, my car gets almost 40mpg on the highway, and it's 10 years old!) A lot of his policies look like warmed-over Clinton, but without the bubbles and the high-value dollar to pull it off.

But he is the first African-American candidate selected by a major party. And that means something beyond the weakness of his positions and his willingness to keep the corporate interests happy. That the United States might elect an African-American president means that, in some small way, we are confronting the racism that is central to the construction of our national identity. But I don't expect that I'll be chattering on about how much I like his policies. Demonstrating against them is a lot more likely.

Food and the Democrats

I ran across this in yesterday's San Francisco Chronicle and was mightily amused. I've always known that the quality of the food at an Democratic Party event is entirely determined by the cost of the event for the attendees. The rubber chicken dinner costs $50-75. The chips and cheese event is $25-40. That's why I never go to any Democratic Party event that I can afford--the food is bound to be awful.

Many years ago, a friend asked me if I planned to attend the victory party for a local candidate for Congress. I declined, noting that it was a free event and that the food table would be graced with stale chips and old salsa. The next morning my friend telephoned to tell me that he thought of me every time he looked at the food table. Yup. Stale chips. Old salsa.