The Voice of Treason

I’d planned to drive across town to run an important errand but decided to stay home, listen to music, and drink cheap Trader Joe’s wine instead. Too many protests and I didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of one. Every now and then I’d check in on the local news reports, then on the national news for protests in other areas. Someone got the memo: the Whiteshirts are waving American flags. (Helps when Leftist organizers think to bring enough to distribute.)

Locally, our (illegal) immigration marches were more like teacher sanctioned absences. A lot of middle and high school students out and about with their government school teachers. Say, do these teachers get paid for being no-shows? Just curious.

Ironically, the high school that inspired the “Grapes” series here decided to keep their protest on school grounds. Sounds like even the students are afraid of that neighborhood. (Well, there was a murder there over the weekend. Can’t say I really miss working in that area. Never boring, but never safe.) Anyway, some reporters got the idea to ask some of the students to read the essays they’d written about immigration. I almost reached for my red pen. Old habits die hard.

One student exclaimed: “Illegal immigrants are treated like criminals!” You don’t say? And I thought public education funds were just money down the toilet. Dear, illegal immigrants are criminals. But you get two points for actually using the word “illegal.”

One older gentleman - a black guy, actually - was asked for his opinion of the protests. This man was incensed and wanted to know why the authorities weren’t down there, demanding to see identification and rounding up the protesters to deport. “These people have no civil rights! They’re not citizens! They’re here illegally!” Well! He must just be a racist.

So none of these little crumb-crunchers bothered to sit in class today, eh? Some didn’t show up at school at all, and others just got up and walked out. Parents, do you know where your child is today? Your tax dollars hard at work.

I don’t remember ever being encouraged by a teacher to leave school. I could have been hemorrhaging in front of them and they would have instructed me to stay in my seat, wait for the bell, then deal with it elsewhere. I can remember only twice that I had teacher sanctioned absences. One was after that horrible “Brush-in” program they subjected us to. I swear I didn’t swallow any of that horrid fluoride goop, but the experience was so revolting that I started turning green at my desk mid-afternoon. My teacher looked at me and said: “Oh, that stuff is just so vile! Run! Just run!” and she pushed me towards the door. I ran to the nearest toilet and puked. She insisted that I be allowed to go home.

The second time was when I was walking out to the soccer field for P.E. class and my knee buckled for no apparent reason. I landed on my right arm, then got up and played soccer. My teacher pulled me off the field to ask me why I was playing with a broken arm. I didn’t know it was broken - it was just swollen and had turned weird colors. “You need to go home. Call someone to come get you - now!” That wasn’t helpful. No one I could call could drive. My sister walked to the school, then we walked home. Later I ended up at Kaiser, where they mixed up my X-rays and put a full cast on a girl with a bruised wrist. I was sent home with a fractured forearm and a shattered elbow.

Drastic measures to get out of class. But that was then. Anyway, I was glad I stayed home to listen to music and drink wine. Listened to some stuff I hadn’t heard in a long time: Elvis Costello, Gerry Rafferty, David Bowie, Talking Heads, and Joe Jackson. T perked up: “Is that ‘Got The Time’?”

I said it was. He said, “That’s Anthrax!” I said, “No, that’s Joe Jackson.” Then he got up from the computer, disappeared into another room, and emerged with a CD. He played a “trashified” version of the song from Anthrax. “See?,” he said. “We do like the same music!”

Will wonders never cease.

When I was making a decent wage and spending money like a wild Indian - oops, that was probably politically incorrect - I was frequenting local restaurants because there wasn’t a lot of time to cook and I liked to meet up with coworkers for lunch and after work to…well, bitch about work. But when I left high tech to go work at a non-profit arts organization, and it wasn’t unusual to go weeks without a paycheck - oops, that was probably illegal - I learned all about the joy of cooking. Once you get into the habit, not only does most restaurant food taste bad, but grocery shopping becomes somewhat less irritating.

I remember my parents and grocery ads. They poured over them as if they were Neiman-Marcus catalogues, ooooohing and aaaahhhhing. “Oh, look! Miracle Whip’s on sale!” I thought they were two of the most pathetic, boring old farts in the world. Imagine - getting that excited over food ads. So it pains me to admit that the highlight of my week now is getting the weekly grocery ads in the mail. Oooooh. Aaahhhhh. Oh, look - broccoli crowns are on sale.

I just went to Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s for the first time this week. I’d been putting it off because I don’t want to discover that I can’t live without some over-priced delectable and be forced to take out a second mortgage on the house.

The early days at these “natural” marketplaces meant four dollar tomatoes, massages in the produce aisle, panhandlers in the parking lot, and customers who looked more dead than alive. And this food is supposed to be good for you?

I wanted to shop at these places to support local farmers, but I just can’t pay six dollars for a gallon of organic milk. (Actually, I don’t drink milk - T does. For calcium, I mainline non-organic sour cream - and lots of it.)

Eleven years ago I had very little choice - now I’m starting to feel like I have a lot more options. Cost Plus used to be the most exotic spot in town, then several Asian markets and Hispanic carnicerias popped up. There are now places where one can purchase Greek, Middle Eastern, Indian, and African items.

Not far from here is a small independent that has some amazing bargains, especially on produce. The “big chains” have expanded their “ethnic” and organic/natural foods inventory. Even Sam’s Club is “going green” and introducing more organic food to their customers. (My sister doesn’t bother with organic foods. She says mosquitoes are still feeding upon her, so she figures her pesticide levels are low.) There’s an enormous “international” market in town now, and several other businesses have opened that specialize in “health” foods.

The result? More ethnic food, organic foods are sometimes more affordable than non-organic, there’s more variety, and there’s more choice. I was at a theater party a couple weeks ago and recognized the Charles Shaw wines that were there. I poured a glass and made a note to myself: “Must go to Trader Joe’s to buy their cheap wine.” (I did go, and I picked up a half dozen Shaw wines — $2.99 a bottle, Katy bar the door!, two Italian products, and one Chilean. Have never been a fan of cheap beer, but I have never discriminated against cheap wine. I’ve had $60 bottles that would be better out of the glass and removing my toenail polish. Came home and T cooked up an African chicken dish. No, it wasn’t an empty plate with a grub appetizer and a grain of rice. Oops - that was probably politically incorrect.)

But shopping for food has become political. I park outside some of these places, and by the time I get into the store I’ve read some of the most depressing bumper stickers in America. People! Food is supposed to bring us together! Shopping for groceries is hard enough - can’t we make this territory neutral? It’s like this nutty war someone has concocted between the “Crunchy Cons” and “Wall Street” Republicans. Ever since the ports deal, people have been backing away from the Wall Streeters like they’re child molesters. Even Anne Coulter chastised them for not realizing that some things are more important than money. Huh? Why is everybody picking on these guys? And then there are the people picking on the Crunchy Cons. Poor Rod Dreher writes that his wife goes to the co-op and carries her organic veggies home in her National Review Online tote bag, and that seems to threaten some people. Hey! I recycle my paper, plastics, and booze bottles - so there! (I still insist it ends up in landfill here, but I think by hauling it to the recycling center first I’m supposed to feel better about myself and my city government. Smoke and mirrors.)

Whenever these idiotic conflicts arise, I like to think about that guy who writes for The Wall Street Journal. Jeff D. Opdyke. He and his wife have to stick to a budget, but he loves to cook and he really loves to shop at Whole Foods. He sneaks off to buy food there, afraid to tell his wife how much he spent. Opdyke is proof that you can have both a healthy interest in food and money. See? There is no war. So shut up and eat.

It’s funny: a Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market (a rarity from what I understand) opened next door to a chain grocery store that I had all but stopped going to because the place was becoming a health hazard. I wouldn’t have known anything about it until I overheard a customer ask a clerk if they were worried. What - a Wal-Mart coming to the ‘hood and no protests? How’d this one sneak so far under the radar?

I finally went to the Neighborhood Market a few weeks ago and it’s not bad. I found a good price on a kibble that diabetic dog loved for a few weeks (and now makes him recoil) - cheaper than PetSmart - and a wonderful ginger cookie. But a few days ago I was at that chain store and the place was jammed. If anything, business has improved because their inventory has expanded and prices are more competitive. And someone’s finally paying attention to those expiration dates. I now find myself going there often.

Ah, competition. It is a good thing.

I keep running into bad TV. And I have to say that one example of this was FNC’s Hannity & Colmes, when David Horowitz and Ward Churchill appeared together on the show. Had all the makings of an interesting watch, but it was just painful instead. Why was Horowitz there? He was barely allowed to speak and what might have been watchable was Churchill supporting his position. But Sean went off again and blew an opportunity.

Don’t get me wrong - I like Sean Hannity. I’m just getting to the point, though, where I can barely tolerate him. Again, it’s what makes Rush great. Rush listens, and he allows guests to speak. Also, Rush can think on his feet and actually converse. Sean has fallen into this awful habit of repeating the same tired old crap over and over again. He has to stop this. If he continues, we’re going to start to suspect that he’s doing it because he hasn’t done his research and maybe he’s just not as smart as he’d like us to think. Harsh, I know, but when I can sit there and say everything that he says while he’s saying it, it just means that I’ve heard his monologue too many times and I have it memorized.

So that was the low point. A shame because I do like David Horowitz. And I would have liked to hear what Churchill had to say. He was trying to make his point and should have been allowed to elaborate.

The high point was an installment of After Words on C-SPAN 2. I enjoy Book TV - doesn’t even matter if I would read the books that are profiled. I like to hear the authors discuss them and I like the Q & A. This one featured Matthew Bogdanos, author of The Thieves of Baghdad, interviewed by Angela M.H. Schuster, co-editor of The Looting of the Iraq Museum, Baghdad: The Lost Legacy of Ancient Mesopotamia and editor of Icon.

Bogdanos, an Assistant District Attorney for NYC and a Marine Reservist, was assigned the task of investigating the looting of the antiquities from Iraq’s national museum and tracking down the thousands of treasures that were stolen. He’s a compelling speaker. So articulate and passionate about the subject that I was just riveted. Colonel Bogdanos is fascinating, anyway: how many lawyers have a master’s in Classics from Columbia?

He has a knack for choosing the most appropriate quotes to support his ideas and I don’t doubt he’s well-read. You get the feeling he really loves this stuff without being the least bit pretentious or pedantic. He doesn’t come across as an academic; instead he has a real hands-on quality that’s very appealing. That Marine Corps scrappiness and that drive to do it better and faster is always kinda fun to watch. It reminds me of the time I worked for a Marine. Always on us to do it better, do it faster, be as efficient as possible and never settle for good-enough. He worked his employees hard but we never felt bad about it because he was always so excited that he’d jump in and work alongside us. And always faster and better.

So, as a kid, Bogdanos worked in his parents’ Greek restaurant in Lower Manhattan and was encouraged to read Homer. Good food, good books. A good start.

No, no - I still support the whole “Buy Danish” thing and I have no intention of turning my back on the cause. It’s just that ever since I started supporting the Danes, my back is…well, it seems to be getting wider. I know it’s become popular to talk about the joys of “hygge,” but Danes might as well pronounce this word as “huge.”

I like the concept of “hygge”: to create a certain intimacy consisting of - as one source suggests - “the four C’s” (comradeship, conviviality, coziness, and most important of all…Carlsberg). To be in this state of “hyggelige” means that you’ve created an environment of comfort and fellowship, security and well-being. Like having people over to sit in comfy chairs, listen to good music, engage in meaningful conversation, and eat and drink extensively in subdued light. Picture a fireplace and a couple sleeping dogs. I guess that’s what people conjure when they think about a ski trip. They’re not thinking about the reality of snow, ice, falling off cliffs, crashing into trees, compound fractures, or paralysis. It’s that cozy ski lodge with the warm beverage and the toasty sweater and fuzzy socks.

I like that, too. It’s the thing that most cultures pride themselves on. Like the Italian Sunday dinner that lasts all day. Food and drink - a huge component. And that’s my issue with “hygge.” I want to support the Danish economy, but I have two problems. I need to limit my spending if I’m going to do what I’m thinking about doing (more on that another time) and I need to buy Danish products that aren’t going to lead to congestive heart failure.

Look, I don’t need any more bookcases or any leather clogs. So what does that leave? Danish beer and food. Do you know how much Havarti I’ve consumed lately? And don’t get me started about the five pound tin of butter cookies. The alternative is creams, sauces, and chocolates.

Now if I wanted to support the Italians I could buy a couple bottles of cheap wine, some eyeglass frames, a piece of gold jewelry, and maybe some shoes. I could even buy a panettone - after all, who really eats that?

What I’m trying to say is this: I can no longer continue to buy Danish edibles. They’re just too darned edible!

I admit it. I watch FOX & Friends in the morning. It’s because I usually sleep with FNC on so I can get the subliminal messages from the V.R.W.C. That, and because there are no infomercials on FNC at night. And it’s a handy night light for the dog. It’s convenient, too, to wake up to breaking news - there’s always something that produces a jolt substantial enough to get me vertical and making coffee.

I recall watching Good Morning, America in high school and college. Later, out of morbid curiosity really, I watched Today when Jane Pauley and Bryant Gumbel anchored the show together. Mainly because I wanted to see who would crack first and stab the other to death on live television.

And now Katie Couric is leaving that show and going to CBS to anchor the evening news program. Makes sense. Katie, like her predecessors at CBS, leans left so there should be no surprises.

However, Katie has sculpted out a little niche for herself over the years and has become that perky little person that people have been accustomed to waking up with. And I’m not just talking about the guys in management at NBC.

When you’re perky you appear on the covers of women’s magazines. Were Walter Cronkite, Dan Rather, or Peter Jennings ever on the cover of Ladies’ Home Journal? Now that Katie is leaving the morning show and its cooking, crafts, and fashion tips segments, will she also leave the pages of the ladies’ magazines?

If she wants to be a serious newsperson, she’s going to have to ditch any appearances in the glossies. Or does she think she can have it all? Perhaps she shouldn’t abandon the magazines completely. After all, it’s one way to keep her face in the public eye. Who knows - the other eye might one day close on her.

No, not Quentin Crisp. In fact, I’d have no issues if it were Mr. Crisp corresponding with a fourteen year-old girl. I would have loved someone like him as a penpal when I was an adolescent. In fact, I’d love one like him even now. Where are the Quentin Crisps today?

No, instead, we have fifty-five year old Brian J. Doyle, deputy press secretary for the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, using a computer to “seduce” what he thought was a fourteen year-old girl. Like T says, if this guy is that ignorant of how a computer and the Internet work and how easily evidence can be extracted, what is he doing working for the DHS?

A similar question could be asked about another government employee, thirty-four year-old elementary school teacher Rachel Holt, who was just arrested for “seducing” a thirteen year-old student, supplying him with alcohol, and - during at least one session - allowing his twelve year-old friend to watch them. Ms. Holt allegedly seduced/had sex with/raped this kid twenty-eight times during the last week of March. Damn, when is a student expected to get his homework done?

The boy’s father became suspicious when the teacher started calling the boy at home. What teacher calls a student at home? But she might just be able to keep her job. She’s a science teacher and we can’t afford to lose any of those. (No doubt she majored in Biology.)

As someone who doesn’t particularly care for youngsters, I’m always bewildered by those who go to such lengths to molest them. Like Florence King, I don’t even want to be in the same room with them. So Gary Glitter, best remembered for Rock and Roll (Parts 1 and 2), will now be better remembered for his extensive collection of kiddie porn and a third career installment: Kids’ Parts, Ages 10 and 11.

Gene Pitney just died. I don’t recall ever hearing that he’d been accused of fondling little girls. One Pitney song title, Baby, You’re My Kind of Woman, reveals a penchant for a more adult partner. Good thing - now he can be remembered for his music. R.I.P.

Finally, a study that appears to make some sense. Words and speech patterns of the 2004 candidates - Bush, Cheney, Kerry, and Edwards - were analyzed and the results are in. Dick Cheney was perceived as the most intelligent of the group. No surprises here. You think Lynne would have married a dunderhead?

Bush and Cheney were considered more presidential than either Kerry or Edwards. Makes perfect sense. Bush was already president, and some say that Cheney’s been doing the job for decades.

Edwards was perceived as the most feminine of the candidates. Well, they don’t call him the Breck Girl for nuthin’. And finally, Kerry was deemed the most depressed of the four. Most depressing, I’d say.

This sounds like another one of those frivolous little studies, but 2008 candidates should pay attention. Perception is everything. Let the makeovers begin. And remember: it might not always matter what you say, what matters is how you say it. Unless you’re George Bush.

Be masculine. Be decisive. Be positive. Be Reagan.

Watched GWB throw the ceremonial pitch of what appears to be an auspicious opening for 2006 baseball. It looks like the Cubs have finally learned that, after you load the bases, you advance the runners - not strand them - and actually score. And they did score, beating the Reds 16-7.

Not only is today the beginning of baseball season, it’s also the start of another election season. Hey, hey holy mackerel - no doubt about it. I didn’t see my fellow Chicagoan, Hillary, at the Cubbies game, so where was she? Preparing Articles of Impeachment, no doubt. Oh, wait, that’s right - Hillary has always been a Yankees fan. Maybe she’ll show up at that game tonight. Forgive me, I get so confused. Now if Hillary runs for and wins the presidency in 2008, will she buy a new cap and claim the Nationals as her team?

“It all started when I was a little girl. I always wanted to grow up to become one of the Senators.”

Not a totally untrue statement. But seriously, I don’t know who’ll be running in 2008. On the Republican side, the “Straight Talker” can lurch as far to the right as he wants, but I’d still vote for Giuliani over McCain. Here, the C-word comes into play. Conservatives and Christians supposedly wouldn’t support a pro-choice candidate like Giuliani, but I like to think of other words that start with “c.” Contraception, for one. And how ’bout consistency and candor?

There’s no guarantee Giuliani will give up his new life in the private sector, and some are dropping hints that he shouldn’t. Would social conservatives support this candidate who has been known to appear in public wearing a dress? Hey, I’d have no trouble voting for him. I have no reason to believe that he couldn’t do the job and, frankly, I just really like the guy. I have since his days in the Department of Justice.

I’ve walked around major metropolitan areas and felt safer in Manhattan than I ever felt in San Francisco, Boston, or even San Diego. Chicago’s my kind of town, the 1969 Cubs are my team, but Rudy Giuliani made me love New York. And if it’s a straight talker you want, who speaks his mind as well as the former mayor? Imagine him in front of a group of reporters.

MSM: “Mr. President. Which team are you supporting in this Series?”

President Giuliani: “Well, as Commander-in-Chief of all baseball teams, and considering the impressive records of the organizations in question, I wouldn’t hesitate to say that no matter how the series turns out, both teams are winners.”

Would I expect an answer like this? Hell no. Giuliani would point at the NY on his cap and say:

“They really pay you to ask a question like that?”

Now that’s a genuine New Yorker. And a genuine baseball fan. But is that an answer anyone but me would want to hear?

The real question should be: Is he willing to go out and win one for the team? If I were him, I’d think long and hard before entering that arena.

It’s unfortunate, but a lot of people are feeling that there’s something not quite right about the Jill Carroll story. Some are reminded of Patty Hearst; others are still irritable about the recent group of “peace workers” who were freed by our troops, then turned around and blamed our military for being held hostage. When they defended their captors by insisting that one in their group wasn’t executed as had been previously reported, but instead was killed while trying to escape, onlookers were baffled. Isn’t that essentially the same thing?

Now Jill has released a statement in which she insists that she was forced to participate in the propaganda video and interview. She had been threatened and she cooperated with her captors because she didn’t want to die. Some are skeptical.

But to be fair, what was she supposed to do? I’ve spent most of my life thinking about what I would do in a hostage situation. Would I be defiant and refuse to cooperate? Would I purposely include misinformation in my statement that would alert authorities that I was being coerced?

If I believe in the conflict, why shouldn’t I - like a soldier - be willing to die for the cause? All this is well and good in theory, but if six masked terrorists are pointing automatic weapons at me, I’m certain my response would be different.

My sister’s dog is ailing and she has to bite the bullet and have him euthanized. She’s procrastinating because she wants all the family members to be at his side, but it’s been difficult coordinating schedules.

“We decided that when he finishes his pain pills on April 9th, we would make an appointment for the vet and have him put to sleep. The problem is we must all coordinate our schedules to be there to say goodbye. I wish it could be that easy with humans. I don’t mind dying, I just don’t want to be alone when the Grim Reaper comes for me. Somehow, that seems such a lonely way to go. Strange hang-up for someone who loves being alone, huh?”

My response:

“Hmmm. Being alone when I die isn’t a problem. Someone finding me a month later might be.”

I worry less about dying and more about the people who have to deal with any mess I might leave behind. I do admit, however, that pain associated with death is not something I look forward to. So if an Islamofascist is holding a dull blade to my neck, do I look him in the eye and say: “Go ahead, make my day” or do I say “So…where’s my script?”

Christians, in these situations, often ask: “WWJD? What would Jesus do?” Considering Abdul Rahman was almost executed for converting to Christianity - and I wouldn’t be surprised if he should meet with an accident in Italy - I don’t think it would work out too well for the J-Man in a hostage situation. I don’t think Christians could pay a ransom and save their Savior.

Lately, when confronted with the big issues, I find myself asking: “WWJBD? What would Jack Bauer do?” I can’t help think the producers of 24 are looking at the Jill Carroll story and asking themselves the same question.

Their answer may be coming soon to a theater near you.

Grace! Space! Race!

– The Who, 1967

Ever wonder why some people say “jag-wire?” I’m thinking about jaguars - the cars, not the cats - because today is the first day of the month that is the cruelest, and I watched an exhibition game last night between the Yankees and Diamondbacks. Former Cubs first baseman Mark Grace is announcing D-Backs games, and I was reminded of the trip T and I took to Arizona to see some spring training a few years ago.

We were in the parking lot in Mesa, and a group of boys asked if we wanted to know which cars belonged to which Cubs. I was nine years old again. “Sure!,” I said.

“This Blazer right here? This is Ryno’s. If you look inside - here, in the backseat - you can see his kids’ schoolbooks and stuff.”

“Sometimes Mark Grace will show up to the games on his Harley, but not today. Today he drove his car. That one there. The brown Jag.”

These kids were pros. I looked up and Mark Grace was getting into his Jaguar. T and I looked at each other, then jumped into our rental to follow him all over the Greater Phoenix area. Foolish? Yeah, probably. But it was fun at the time.

Last night Grace announced his picks for the 2006 season. NL East? The Braves. NL West? Dodgers. NL Central? Cardinals. Wildcard? The Mets. I was straining to hear him because T was on a tear about the state of baseball.

“It used to be a game. Now it’s just business. There is no joy in Mudville.”

He and his brother grew up with baseball, played baseball, lived and breathed baseball, and his mother even umpired Little League. One day they went to the Coliseum to see the A’s because his brother idolized one of the players. This guy was his hero. T’s brother waited after the game to catch a glimpse of his favorite player of all time and when he finally appeared, the star-struck kid waved his baseball card and called the player’s name. The guy turned, looked at T and his brother and said:

“Yeah, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out.”

And then he walked away. An incident like that can scar a kid for life. I’ve had my own bad baseball memories: the 1969 Cubs, the 1984 Cubs, the 1989 Cubs. But today is that day that starts the feeling all over again. Before I took the dogs out I grabbed my Cubs cap that’s older than any of the players currently on the team.

Why do I keep going back? I guess what sustains me is one particularly good memory. It was the day my sister took me to one of the worst neighborhoods in Chicago to stand in line for hours outside Uptown Federal Bank to get a chance to meet my heroes: Cubs catcher Randy Hundley, and Mr. Cub himself - Ernie Banks. It was getting later and later and I knew they’d leave before we ever even got within fifty feet of the lobby. My sister was pissed. “We’re going to die today and if we don’t get to see these guys before we do, I’m not going to be happy.”

But they stayed. They stayed until every last person in line got to shake their hands. So when Mark Grace says it’s going to be the Cardinals, I have to say he’s wrong. I’ve gotta believe it’s gonna be the Cubbies this year.

APRIL FOOL!!!

Yeah…that’s me.