Grandparent fulfillment post, No. 3

Here are a few pictures of Sam, who seems to be very comfortable with the camera, and a short story.

When I was working the gourmet case at Central Market, the food I hated handling the most was whipped sweet potatoes. I like it as food, but as something to work with it was too soft to spoon and too firm to pour. It was also sticky to a point where it was impossible to go through a day without having to take some time off to wash and rub the stuff off of you, and you'd still go home looking like you were the cutter from a butcher shop where animals bled orange cream.

Sweet potatoes were the worst, until I ran into pureed prunes. Mix them together, and ughhh...



Otherwise:

Sam with blanket. He likes it so far, but doesn't seem to be really attached to it. I'm wondering when they start developing those "I want my binky" type feelings.

This is Sam's favorite thing to do. He's been pulling up for two weeks or so, and will stand at the window in his room, happily watching the world go by, and drooling gallons at a time.

Sam goes for the camera. His expression in this one kind of disturbs me.

Lubbock: THE conservative bellwether

Always strange to see a hometown nobody much mentions for most of my life keep coming up. It's not always good, but it's fascinating to me.

This morning, Peggy Noonan used the anchor of South Plains civilization to guage George Bush's unpopularity:

In Lubbock, Texas – Lubbock Comma Texas, the heart of Texas conservatism – they dislike President Bush. He has lost them. I was there and saw it. Confusion has been followed by frustration has turned into resentment, and this is huge. Everyone knows the president's poll numbers are at historic lows, but if he is over in Lubbock, there is no place in this country that likes him. I made a speech and moved around and I was tough on him and no one – not one – defended or disagreed. I did the same in North Carolina recently, and again no defenders. I did the same in Fresno, Calif., and no defenders, not one...

The reasons for the quiet break with Mr. Bush: spending, they say first, growth in the power and size of government, Iraq.

She doesn't mention illegal immigration, which I'm going to hazard a guess and say is a fairly big deal among conservatives in Lubbock, probably moreso than the war in Iraq.

Buy my interest here is mainly in Lubbock being used as a political weathervane.

George Bush (the first) made a remark after winning the 1988 election that a friend of his from Lubbock said things were good, so Bush guessed it'd all be all right. The comment led to a few news stories about Lubbock becoming the next Peoria (as in "Will it play in ...?")

This didn't last long, as pollsters soon realized that asking if Lubbockites preferred the conservative option was akin to asking attendees at a baptist convention if they were fond of Jesus. The results were too uniform to be of much use as a national guage.

After 9/11, Bush (the second) wanted a terrorist policy that "the boys from Lubbock" could understand.

The Bushes don't give a great reflection of the city. They -- inadvertently, maybe -- peg Lubbock as a place where downhome folks sit on porches, drink heavily sweetened tea, swat flies and make vague remarks over the state of the world as they hear it coming over the wireless.

Noonan's remarks are different. Lubbock becomes the cliff that you daren't jump over if you're a conservative politician. I can hear the dismissals now (Lubbockites automatically tense any time they get national attention) about how we're a bunch of racist meth-adled simple folk with family trees that don't fork.

But I think Noonan's hit something here: If conservatives hack off this crowd, there's no where else for them to go.

Spooky baby

In this one, the ghost of Sam haunts his parents for an unjustified nap time.

(He's standing up in his crib, by the way. That's actually the reason I shot this.)

A new post

I haven't been writing much lately for a lot of reasons. Mainly it has to do with me doing the once-a-decade-what-am-I-doing-with-my-life survey and trying to come up with one or two answers.

Hence, I've cocooned myself off so that I could focus on a couple of things. Soon I'll emerge, again, as the most kick-ass butterfly ever.

There's a lot of stuff going on that I've thought about posting on, and I'm doing a disservice to myself by not sitting me butt down and pounding it out. I'll get back to it soon.

Meanwhile, here's something moderately interesting from the Wall Street Journal -- a critique of a book that examines the writer's quest for status:

For scholarly authors who want to flaunt their erudition and thereby make a status claim, Mr. Zaid offers Noel Coward's deflating remark: "Having to read a footnote resembles having to go downstairs to answer the door while in the midst of making love." And Mr. Zaid has a fine eye for authors who value media attention more than the work that inspired it: "What matters isn't the poem," he observes, "but to appear on television as a poet."

Mr. Zaid's goal is to capture the variety of anxieties that beset literary fame-seekers, and he does so with a mocking cleverness. A serious theme, though, runs through his book – that with the possible exception of a few agonized painters and musicians, no one can quite touch the exquisite torment of the literary artist as he faces the hazards of fate. And yet reading Mr. Zaid's account, one can't help noticing a resemblance to another social figure: the businessman.

Sick, disgusting, twisted and a nice lawn

A random thought brought on by a sad event:

I've followed the Warren Jeff's cult thing (Fundamental Church of Latter Day Saints) with interest for a few years now.

I heard about the compound in Eldorado fairly soon after it started, thanks to the fact that I was in the town reporting on a random story and the guy I was interviewing happened to mention a compound with "these fundamentalist mormons" going up outside of town.

It sounded foreboding, and the last couple of weeks we've all come to know how.

One of the things that struck me was the area photo of the temple (with the "nuptial" rooms).

Dang, that's a green lawn for being out in the middle of nowhere near desert-like San Angelo. And we're in the middle of April. I can only imagine the thousands of gallons of water and hours of labor they had to pour on that sucker to get it to look like that, tho I can imagine it pretty well.

It brought to mind a story my brother told me while I was working in his lawn-care business. A friend of his in the same line of work had won a huge, $50,000-a-year-plus contract to tend the grounds of one of the mormon places of worship in Lubbock.

A contract like that will keep a man set for the year. But he soon regretted taking the job, because the mormon folks who ran the place were never happy with anything -- the lawn had to be immaculate to the point of other-worldliness, and trying to meet their needs had him running in circles.

To point out to the easily offended, I don't think that the modern Church of LDS has anything to do with the cult, other than the fact that they developed from the same group that moved into Utah back in the 1800s.

The random thought: I wonder if that culture spawned a rather strong obsession with lawns. The pioneers in Utah were able to survive only through massive and collective irrigation efforts to bring water to their farms. Maybe that somehow transformed to an immaculate lawn being "Godly."

No idea, just curious.

Sci-fi delicious

Just saw this:

Fox has given the green light to "Virtuality," a two-hour back-door pilot from "Battlestar Galactica" mastermind Ronald D. Moore.
The sci-fi project, from Universal Media Studios and producers Gail Berman and Lloyd Braun, is set aboard the Phaeton, Earth's first starship. It revolves around its crew of 12 astronauts on a 10-year journey to explore a distant solar system. To help them endure the long trip and keep their minds occupied, NASA has equipped the ship with advanced virtual-reality modules, allowing the crew members to assume adventurous identities and go to any place they want. The plan works flawlessly until a mysterious "bug" is found in the system.
"It's very much about what's fantasy and what's reality; what we do to escape our lives and what actually institutes our lives; are these things very different," UMS president Katherine Pope said.

Mmmmm ...

This should be good, but I need to put the should in italics. Moore might be burnt out, and Fox killed "Firefly" for no good reason.

I'm one of many who were never too keen on the holodeck in the Star Trek series. It offered too many easy outs for too many problems, and they never addressed the problem of exactly what happens to humanity when physical holograms are finally created.

I'm currently in the camp that says we're doomed. Your typical human has to decide between being in a fake world were he can do whatever he wants all the time or being in the real world and getting the typical weggie that reality gives every day. We don't stand a chance.

Hat tip: NRO

At the botanical garden

In Fort Worth, where the family spent part of Sunday.


We have a few pictures. It's required. Everybody -- brides, prom girls, new engagees, families with horribly ugly children -- were taking pictures of themselves at the Forth Worth Botanical Garden.


Sam now has a new way of getting around. I'm kinda excited by this, because it means I can stay in backpacking shape. After the boy gains about 10 more pounds.

About Hulu

It's been out there for a bit, but wanted to pass on a recommendation for Hulu.com.

Besides sports, I watch almost no TV nowadays. But I have watched a lot of stuff on-line.

I was going to TV network sites and watching a few shows, but the quality tended to suck. "Jericho" on CBS comes to mind. I got tired of watching the episodes because I got sick of a pause every six seconds.

Hulu.com is what you'd prefer these sites to do. It's obvious the networks don't take on-line programming seriously because they haven't invested the capital to make a smoothe-running system. The programs at Hulu run without a pause and the offerings are increasing daily. It's a combination of new and old, and they also have a few movies. It's all free -- you just have to watch a short commercial every 15 minutes or so.

I am not being paid to do this. Thanks.

Also, NBC's cancelation of "Journeyman" is a freakin' crime. Thanks again.

From Hell -- what makes a truly awful film

A guardian critic reviews the latest Paris Hilton film.

Actually, he doesn't review the film. Why bother, when you can instead write a lengthy meditation on some of the worst garbage Hollywood and other filmmakers have produced throughout the decades?

"A generically appalling film like The Hottie and the Nottie is a scab that looks revolting while it is freshly coagulated; but once it festers, hardens and falls off the skin, it leaves no scar. By contrast, a truly bad movie, a bad movie for the ages, a bad movie made on an epic, lavish scale, is the cultural equivalent of leprosy: you can't stand looking at it, but at the same time you can't take your eyes off it. You are horrified by it, repelled by it, yet you are simultaneously mesmerised by its enticing hideousness. A monstrously bad movie is like the Medusa: those who gaze on its hideous countenance are doomed, but who can resist taking a gander?"

Bug people

Folks always made fun of Tom Delay’s background as an exterminator. I’m beginning to see how the experience made excellent congressional training.

Last year, we hired an exterminator, after the bug problem in my house got under the skin of my very lovely and granola wife. The man came out, talked to us about his company’s "vision" for half an hour, and tried to sign us up for seasonal treatments at $200 a pop. We said we’d think about it (we were thinking, "Hell no") and he eventually sprayed and left.

Two months later, the bug company began leaving messages on our phone, saying it was time for a treatment. Three weeks after that, an exterminator showed up unannounced at our door, asking if he could spray the insides.

"Ah, no."

How ‘bout a perimeter treatment?

"No thanks."

He left, and about 20 minutes later, we had a rather testy message on the answering machine (we never answer) from the bug people. But at least that was the last we heard of them.

Last month, the termites came. They haven’t swarmed, but they’ve deposited little brown mounds on a spot on the high wall over the kitchen.

And so the estimate process began again. We’ve had two people over so far, will have two more tomorrow.

The first guy was pretty laid back, and was in and out in about 30 minutes.

The next guy was from Terminix. He came in, talked about his vision for what the house needed, and refused to give a price. Then he spent about an hour going through and around the house, going so far as to pull out some metal-detector looking doohickey with which he went over the walls -- a grim expression plastered on his face the entire time.

Then he came back in and started to give his sales presentation to Meredith*. The presentation includes a 10-minute video, which talks about Terminix’s dedication to the customer and features some really disgusting photos of termites.

Then, he gives his first price: $110 a month for the next two years for complete coverage. (The first guy just had a one-time cost of $700.)

There is sticker shock. How about a one-time treatment?

"$900."

Still too high.

"We have a coupon out there right now, I think. That'd make it $800."

Umm ...

"Perhaps $650?"

I hear, "What can I do for us to begin treatment today?" He even calls the manager, who tells him to tell us to get bent.

Finally, three hours after he first arrived in the house, he leaves.

I have distant memories from the growing up years of the exterminator.

A man came by our house in an unmarked white van and sprayed around, after which point, mom paid him. And that was about it.

I’m left wondering if Mom was lucky enough to know someone, or if the trend to the hard-sell-packages-that-nobody-needs is new to the business of bug killing.

I don't know. I just wish Dale Dribble had a blog.

* I left Meredith alone for two reasons. Salesmen love to play couples off on each other. And I didn't want to sit through it. I would have had more sympathy for Meredith had she not let the man in the house before I put my pants on.