More on Palin

Here's something the NY Times has. They don't mention the rape kits, but they do give a pretty reasonable profile of how she operates.

Jay, by the way, was nice enough to include a link to more data about the rape kits in his response to my Admiral Ackbar post. Check it out if you are so inclined. I don't know how much of it will stick. There's still probably wiggle room to get out from under it, but it seems damning to me.

From the Times article and other sources, Palin comes off as a kind of thug with decidedly Nixonian tendencies (yes, I can see enemies lists as something she could have). I think she's every bit the pit bull she says she is, with or without the lipstick. Pit bulls aren't just strong, tenacious fighters. They're animals that have been known to maul when they slip their leash.

I don't make any bones about not being in the bag for Obama. I don't think he has much of an interest in the things that trouble people in my neck of the woods. He's written us off very publicly and this will continue if he's elected. He's a pretty face for change, but I don't know how much change he represents. I don't see him as a real reformer, which is what the country needs desperately.

Palin is a real reformer. She's change you should be afraid of.

A thought about Governor Palin

I've watched some of my favorite bloggers completely lose their shit over Sarah Palin. Admittedly, some of these people are a little high strung to start with, but they're coughing up every wild, half-baked scenario that comes along: Palin cut money for special needs kids (nope), Palin's daughter had the kid with Down syndrome, not Palin (nope), Palin banned books (nope), Palin was a member of an Alaskan separatist group (nope).

Even the recent rape kit outrage sounds a little weak once you get past the anger. The story is incomplete. The information is lacking and very clearly being spun. It could very easily turn around very suddenly, just like the other controversies over the last two weeks have.

At this point, anything leaked about Sarah Palin has to be considered suspicious. It's been more bullshit than truth so far. This is how it was probably intended.

To quote the good Admiral... It's a trap.

A simple prayer

Dear Lord, if ever I become even somewhat famous, please let me agree to do interviews with the newspapers in the towns whose citizens buy my crap. Please let me at least try to do this every time I go any place with the intent purpose of collecting a check for doing not much more than showing up. Let me make myself accessible because that's a lot nicer than being a millionaire douche bag who is too damned self-important to communicate with the people who make my way of life possible.

Let me remember that doing only six interviews in a calendar year when you're a touring artist doesn't make you mysterious. It makes you an asshole, even if you're Willie Nelson. It makes you even more of an asshole if you're only Kenny Chesney or John freakin Popper.

Oh lord, let me not drive the local entertainment writer up the God damned wall with what amount to certifiably retarded excuses about being busy. Let me remember that I can spare ten minutes on a fucking telephone. Never let me forget that a tour is 75 percent sitting on your ass riding somewhere and another ten percent sitting around going nowhere. Five percent is the show and ten percent is just jerking off. It isn't that hard to work in a conversation on a phone when you're on a bus, waiting for a plane or simply staring at the sweaty cement walls of your basement dressing room.

Let me not go out of my way to insult that little writer's intelligence by saying otherwise. I am sure he gets enough of that at home as it is.

Oh, lord let me also do my best to give that unknown writer my time while I am not having a big bowl of nachos, freebasing cocaine or having a particularly gratifying bowel movement. Let me be nice about it. He didn't call to hear me eat, get high or unleash my stool. He's trying to both help me and give his readers something they want. It's not about the money. If it was for the money, he wouldn't bother with talking. He'd simply wait near the bus with a photographer for that inevitable moment when I do something stupid and probably illegal.

And for this small act of cooperation, this giving of a little time, let me be well-remembered in the future by that writer and the people his article will reach. Let them continue to buy my crap, encourage their friends to buy my crap and do so with joy in their hearts.

Amen.

Rule of law

The first rule of pre-mediation is you do not talk about pre-mediation.

The second rule of pre-mediation is you do not talk about pre-mediation.

The third rule is it is absolutely okay to have a sandwich after pre-mediation. In fact, it's recommended because you're appetite tends to return. I suggest the Country Club sandwich at Jimmy John's. It's not very good, but it hits the spot after a little too much coffee for breakfast.

Books

I've been reading a lot lately and the books have been helpful. Some people know I'm a Buddhist. I'm not a great Buddhist. I'm not an overly observant Buddhist, but I am a Buddhist (who celebrates Christmas because I like to give gifts, eat baked goods, spend time with my kids and watch Christmas specials). Most of my "practice" involves meditating, trying to behave myself and reading about Buddhism. I practice a Western form, which is closer to the kind Christmas Humphrey's practiced in England back at the turn of the 20th century.

The same time I picked up Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" and "No Country for Old Men," I also checked out "Start Where You Are" by Pema Chodron. She's a Buddhist nun and writer. I'm not a fan of her Tonglen practice, which in my mind, is opening the softer part of your mind to the harder parts of the world. You try to take on the pain of the world and give back your joy and success. You do it without getting anything back, not even the smug satisfaction of doing the right thing. It's about building compassion and reducing attachment. This is spiritual heavy lifting and it scares the hell out of me.

The main thing I got out of the book was an awareness of those little bullshit conversations that go on inside our heads. It's easy to replay scenes back and add new dialog. Everybody sounds cooler when they've got time to script the tell-off, but it's not helpful. It's draining. You're not venting. You're not achieving anything other than maintaining the hostility.

All of this is fine and good, but so fucking what, right?

Well, the day I finished the book, was also the day I found out a pre-mediation session regarding my most favorite legal problem has been scheduled for Tuesday of this week. I found it out Thursday night (then again on Friday, when I got a second updated and amended version). Just another right book at the right time.

I could be flipping out and fretting, but I'm not. She'll have her say (in a legal sense of the word). I might get mine (so I've been told), but it doesn't happen the day before. It doesn't happen the day after. It just happens then and until then, I shouldn't have that conversation. Pretty good advice, don't you think?

Now, if I could just pick up the book that will tell me how to sell my book and make a few bucks, I'd really be getting somewhere.

Rumors of a demise

I got word Graffiti is over. The editor has been removed. The staff has been reassigned and it's going to be refitted into some kind of bullshit insert filled with free news, probably drawn from the internet. Essentially, this is what I suggested to them personally, after they ran their silly non-interview piece on The Shins. Specifically, I think, I suggested they download and reprint porn.

It's the beginning of the end, the real end of West Virginia's "indie" paper.

As it has been mentioned, I used to write for Graffiti. That's where I got my break into writing again. It was a good time, except when it wasn't. Say what you want about Michael Lipton. At its worst, it was a better paper under him than it was at it's best under the stream of editors and publishers who never got what the paper was about. They tried to turn it into a product they were familiar with. They never seemed to get what made it work -at least as a publication. As a business, nobody seemed to figure how to make it profitable.

I regret what it became and could barely stand to look at it for years. I had some of my best ideas while writing for them. I loved Graffiti and hated it. It's a shame if this is the way they have to go.

wordplay

After the fireworks on Sunday, we were all a little tired. I just wanted to get to bed. I had to be up in another few hours to fill in at the radio station. A friend of mine asked me how I do that? How I stay up late at night, then get up in the morning?

Pretty easy. There's rent to pay.

The kids in the back seat wound down. Flappy was scarcely heard. Even imaginary friends get tired, I suppose.

After the turn, leading down to our home in the slums of South Hills, my daughter suddenly asked, "What's a pariah?"

I looked back. Huh? Where'd you hear that?

"In the world," she said, meaning she wasn't going to tell me.

Concerned, I took a deep breath and told her what I knew. The word means untouchable. It relates to the caste system in India and a group of people considered the lowest of the low and unclean.

"In her terms," my wife suggested.

"It means outcast." I said. "Somebody to stay away from."

She didn't say anything. School started last week: middle school. When you read and listen to people refer to children like yours as a "mouth-breather" you maybe wonder what kind of things get told to her face.

"You're not a pariah," I said. "You're not an outcast."

She didn't say anything for a while, then asked, "What's a celebrity?"

I wasn't sure how to explain it. For a second, in my mind, the end result seemed the same.