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Showing posts from May, 2008

Are You For Real?

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So Dunkin Donuts has pulled the ad with Rachel Ray because her black and white scarf looks too much like a keffiyeh, the traditional Palestinian scarf. Rachel called her scarf black and white paisley. This would be even more laughable than it is except xenophobia isn't really high humor and the tiny minds that revert to this kind of stereotyping are stunning in their ignorance and paranoia. Conservative blogger Michelle Malkin, who originally made this ridiculous accusation, called it "Jihadi chic." What's she been drinking? I gave up donuts and weak coffee ages ago, but any thinking person (there are a few still out there) would certainly need to rethink patronizing any business that bends to this kind of reactionary bullshit. Up here in Oregon, when we look at the picture we wonder what Rachel Ray is doing in Salem, the state capital. The non-domed capital building is clearly in the background, as well as some nice beautiful Willamette Valley cherry trees i

Sleep You Weary Hobo

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Utah Phillips died last week. I knew he's been quite ill with congestive heart failure for most of this year so it was no surprise. Bruce Phillips, aka U. Utah Phillips, the golden voice of the great southwest, was more storyteller than singer. Sure he played guitar and sang on key, but he was non-pareil with a good story. He had a bindle full. I first met Utah back in the 70s where he enjoyed a huge fan base in the Bay Area. When the Woody Guthrie show I was part of was invited to perform and do some workshops at the Santa Rosa Folk Festival back in 1979, I sat around under trees listening to and recording most of his performances when I had free time. Glad I still have those tapes today because Utah was something special in a live performance. Bruce Phillips was a Woobly. An active member of the Industrial Workers of the World, he kept much of the history alive and could sing and talk about the little red song book endlessly. Newer versions feature his songs as wel

War Is A Force

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Last night I watched a piece on the NBC's Dateline. Timed for memorial day weekend, it focused on a Vietnam Vet, Rich Luttrell, who had held on to a haunting photograph for decades. As an 18 year-old, he volunteered for service in Vietnam and really had no idea what would follow. Like many young people today, he'd been raised on all the images and myths about war. When faced with the reality, his moral emotions got in the way. In his first fire fight deep in the Vietnamese jungle he came face to face with a North Vietnamese soldier. They stared into each other's eyes for an endless minute and then the American shot and killed the Vietnamese. In the aftermath, he noticed something in the corner of the dead soldier's pocket. Sightly larger than a postage stamp, it was a small photograph of a man with what looked like his daughter. A quick glance at the corpse on the ground in front of him, and he knew it was this man and his daughter. Other fire fights and

Intent v Impact

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Hillary references the California Primary 40 years ago as an example of nomination races going deep into June before they decided. Barak, trying to accommodate an anxious reporter says "just a minute sweetie." Both need to apologize within the day. Damage control becomes the priority. What's happening here? Teachers know all too well the fine line between intent and impact. Every inflection of the voice, every use of a word that's OK under these circumstances but definitely not OK under those is suspect. Only the speaker knows what she meant. Yet, it's inevitable in the current climate that anyone and everyone is going to be held accountable by the Impact Nazis . It is not about being "politically correct." It's about being correct. If somebody goes to a Sen. Clinton rally with a sign saying" iron my shirts" that's sexism. If someone makes a statement purporting to explain why white people or black people or Indian or Latino

Poetry and Groceries

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Poetry and Groceries The difference between my life now and two years ago Is what makes Portland my home, In the WholeOatsWildSeasonsNewFoods grocery store is a magazine rack, Beyond health and current affairs, sidestepping Gourmet, Outside, and Harpers My eyes rest on Poetry Northwest, Two chairs invite like campfire stumps, I read poetry before buying toilet paper, admire similes before spinach, Yesterday, while camped, a poet takes me to Market Street at dusk, riding the streetcar into the amber breast of darkness looking for a lover in red shoes. I rise to pick up milk and eggs. The boundaries of age and wisdom make me an observer now, Each day youth depreciates like an oak desk, An atrophied bank account, A fine wine, turning, In the aisles I’m finding unbridled joy in bread sampled, the palate of apples, a butcher’s banter, I read and re-read the poems; the universe provides sudden escapes, Hours later, I see myself at 30 in the eyes of a coffeehouse mode

Wild Weekend Part II

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The wow factor continues as 75,000 people snake through downtown Portland, in and out of shade and the record-setting 90 degree weather to see and hear Barak Obama speak. Katie and I go with niece Rose, her husband Eric, Annika,5, Naomi, age 3, and their newborn, Soren, about 4 months. Everyone knows that history is in the making. There are very few traffic cops, yet the mood and demeanor of the crowd is fairly laid back despite the heat, the constant cries of the hawkers, and the long wait. We get in line about 12:30, Obama is scheduled to speak at 2:30. At 1:30 there is movement and we wind and wend our way to the river's edge. Along the way we pass some notable folks. The 70+ gentleman behind me looks like a retired navy man. He is wearing a tee shirt that says "Barak is my Homie." A huge selection of Obama faces is available for purchase on tee shirts. He looks like everything from a smiling Alfred E. Newman to a stern faced Malcolm X. Two very Irish lookin

Wild Weekend

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Saturday May 17, 2008 I think it might be time to use the "S" word. After Big Brown romped around the Pimlico oval and added another chapter in his brief record book, I could see Secretariat's Belmont. To compare the two, even 2/3 through the triple crown trail isn't wise. Big Red was certainly one for the ages, but Big Brown looked like one too. Around the racetrack trainers and jockeys use the word freak. This is a supreme compliment. Miesque, who won the Breeder's Cup Mile two years in a row, was such an individual. A trainer I know who ran against him told me before the race that they were all running for second place. Such was the case Saturday. When Kent Desormeaux angled out for a bit more room turning for home, Big Brown eased to the lead with remarkable fluidity. His rivals looked desperate, ears pinned, legs churning, hearts broken. Big Brown pricked his ears crossing the wire, geared down, having hardly turned a hair. I turned

Coffee and Crosswords

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The coffee shop was unexpectedly crowded. No place to sit, barely an empty chair even at the tables occupied by one person reading or typing frantically at a keyboard. I'm going for green tea anyway, it's too late in the day for more caffeine. Besides, I can just stand here by the counter and quietly wait the four minutes steeping time recommended by the barista. Three minutes and fifty-five seconds later and no movement. Even the card table with the blue handicapped sign has two young women sprawled over its surface. Their purses and backpacks at one end, a newspaper crossword between them. They struggle with "an eight letter word for the largest city in Jamaica," but sense my presence and dilemma. "Would you guys mind if I sat down here?" The one with darker hair looks up smiles, and says,"Oh no, go right ahead, here let me move something." "Thanks," I reply," and I can help with that crossword too." Damn,

Another Opportunity

Here's another opportunity: www.AftertheFinishLine.org

Crisis/Opportunity

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The Chinese Character for Crisis includes the Character for Opportunity. It might actually be Danger = Opportunity. Or, it may or may not be true. Some say this is a "New Age" urban myth. Only those that can read Mandarin can be certain of the blended concepts here. No matter. In crisis there is often opportunity; that's the important thing. Think of all the crises going on in your world, in your life, on the planet, in your mind. Nice to know that all are potential opportunities. That may be where the danger comes in. The danger of doing nothing. The danger of status quo. Complacency= no opportunity. My top five crises: War- not the answer, only mythology, terror, violence, breakdown of communication Leadership-Help is on the way. Present economic reality- make changes, give something back, drive less, move your ass, value the natural Education-it's not what you cover, it's what you uncover; testing isn't teaching; harder does not mean releva

Pay it Forward

Read this article: http://news.bloodhorse.com/article/45135.htm That's What I'm Talkin About... Eight Belles' Gift to Seabiscuit Author | bloodhorse.com From even the greatest tragedy can come good. Eight Belles' death no doubt will be a catalyst for Thoroughbred racing to provide better safety for the ... news.bloodhorse.com/article/45135.htm

Tell Me About Your Life

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If you listen, people will tell you everything.  For such a loquacious person, I have come to the belief that if you listen, people will tell you everything.  From the grocery clerk to the person who you happen to sit next to in any public facility.        It's not always the case, but often, if someone begins a sudden conversation, sit back and listen.  You'll get it all.  Case in point: a few days ago I was privy to someone's drug dealing past. I heard all about his former life, why he doesn't need to go that route now, and, get this, why he really misses the good old days.  Cocaine was so reasonable.  Nowadays these meth heads have screwed up everything.  No argument from me, up here in the Northwest, they're taking anything metal that isn't nailed down, and even taking pipe cutters and welding torches to a few things that are. "Tweakers" are so desperate for the almighty scrap metal dollar, they are going after statues in the park, catalytic conve

Freeway

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We hardly had time to enjoy the finish when we heard the news about Eight Belles.  I knew what was coming.  First the disbelief, then the onslaught of media spin, hypersensitivity and non-sensitivity.  I've been  watching all the network and wire service stories today. Most of them are either so lightweight or just plain get it wrong.   In racing the highs are the highest and the lows are the lowest.  When they come so close together, it's an earthquake.       I never planned to write any "I told you sos" about Big Brown.  I said my piece two days before the race and cashed my tickets with the rest.  It was his day and that performance will always stand tall.  Sometimes when I go to the track and chat with people I can't resist the urge to tell them something I know about either a jockey or the sire or dam, or a trainer or some other bit of information I have come by in my years following the sport and writing for The Blood-Horse.  Now, being in Portland and knowi

A Chance in a Lifetime in a Lifetime of Chance

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One of the things that I love most about horse racing is that it demands risk.  It helps to have ice water in your veins from time to time.  Anything I want to say about the 134th Kentucky Derby I need to say now.  No one will care after the race.  Only what the participants say at 6:00 pm (Est)on Saturday May 3, 2008 will be worth listening to.  It will take that special combination of speed and stamina to prevail, as well as plenty of luck.  Some folks think the luck factor is the most important of all.        When the race is run my first concern will be that all 19 runners make it home safely.  The variables of running at Churchill Downs on Derby Day are amplified.  Jockey Paul Niccolo once told me that turning for home in the Derby is like entering a sound tunnel.  His horse was 50-1 but it took weeks to wipe the smile off his face.  "It was great just to be there," he reminisced. This year's Derby like most is wide open.  Of course there will be a favorite, one hors