The United States government is using the present conflict in Georgia and Russia as a propaganda tool. Robert Scheer makes a good case for this in an article he wrote this week.
McCain's senior foreign policy adviser, Randy Scheunemann, was one of the architects of the Iraq war and may have even profited from it.
He was also very recently a lobbyist for Georgia. McCain and Scheunemann went there together as recently as 2006.
The threat of another Cold War or even World War III has taken the place of the orange alert for the upcoming election.
McCain's people are too shrewd for our own good. This is an incredibly complicated, brilliant set of moves on their part. Difficulty level - 7.5, Execution - 10. I'm not sure Obama has what it takes to deliver higher than a 17.5. Stay tuned for the individual competition tomorrow night.
This clip from Fox demonstrates what happens when things don't go according to whatever script they have going on over there. You can almost see Shepard Smith reading the teleprompter when it flashes "GO TO COMMERCIAL, GET HER OFF NOW, CEASE THE BROADCAST!"
PS - I may be wrong about that execution score. McCain's strategy may be backfiring on him. I heard Scheunemann's name mentioned on NPR just now, and not in a positive light.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Jazz in Transit
The weekend of 8/8/08 was an explosion of Los Angeles discovery.
Friday night, my girl Stella and I used the subway to go to Pasadena to see our friend Brian Friedland play with his big band orchestra at the Jazz Institute. This guy has incredible chops on the keys, and his compositions are mad genius. He fuses classical elements into his jazz, quite literally in the case of a big band arrangement of Bartok's piano work Free Variations. I anxiously await a recording of Up the Coast, an astounding impressionistic journey with generous, expansive solos for various musicians.
This was the first time I have ridden the subway in a couple years. The rapid transit system in Los Angeles takes a commitment unheard of in places like San Francisco or New York. The subway goes far but not to many places considering the vastness of the area. The buses often feel overcrowded and perilous. The lines really slow down or stop altogether after a certain time, so you have to be careful not to get stranded. But Stella and I had an unexplainable urge to leave the car at home, and our destination in Pasadena was very close to the Gold Line. So off we went. Riding public transit is always interesting, with so many lives brushing against each other.
The ride out was a smooth one. I was able to have an extra margarita because I wasn't worried about driving. On the way back, there was an older grizzled man wearing a gold vest exposing his bony chest. He carried a large plastic bag, contents unknown. He would occasionally break into a jig or play a beat on the wall of the subway car. At every stop, he would step out of the train and would jump back in at the last possible moment after the chime signaled the doors were closing. I was worried he wouldn't make it back into the train leaving his bag behind for all of us to look at suspiciously. But he made it every time.
The only snag that night came when we got stranded at the Vermont/Wilshire station on the way back and had to walk the remaining mile to our apartment. Despite the late time, (12:30am) it wasn't a bad walk, and we treated it as an adventure. Koreatown is not too bad in most parts, especially when you stick to the main thoroughfares like Wilshire. I had a vendor hotdog that was some kind of delicious, all grilled onions, charred dog, and tangy mustard. A beautiful thing, those vendor dogs.
I decided to make public transit a theme for the weekend. Saturday evening, I went to a party in Hollywood using the bus and rail lines. I got to Hollywood and Vine and then hoofed it up to the where the party was.
Then today, I decided to find something fun and free to do. I used the bus to go to Crenshaw and 43rd for the World Stage Jazz Festival where I caught stellar performances from Bobby Matos and his Afro Latin Jazz Ensemble as well as Jesse Sharps and the Gathering. The decision to go was spontaneous. I approached the trip with a combination of trepidation and excitement. This was the first time visiting the Leimart Park neighborhood on foot, and I wasn't sure what to expect.
The Leimart Park area turns out to be pretty inspiring. There are lots of shops with art and several venues for live music. There's a great coffee shop on Degnan that I hope to visit again someday for more than just water.
The festival took place in a public parking lot. A large white canopy housed chairs that probably accommodated a couple hundred people. It was a welcome respite from the harsh and constant rays of the friendly, fearsome sun. Anyone over the age of 40 was very well dressed, probably visiting the festival after a morning in church. Lots of families ambled about visiting the various kiosks selling artwork and food. At one point, I bought a spicy Cajun chicken dog - it seems I have a weakness for grilled hot dogs from outside vendors, and this one did not disappoint.
I stayed for two sets - the groups I had the privilege of listening to were very different from each other. Bobby Matos and his group were all laid back and cool. Their Latin grooves had people dancing up front, and heads were bopping back and forth under the canopy. There was a dancing red haired shirtless Jethro Tull look-alike spinning in circles so many times I'm surprised he didn't fall down.
Jesse Sharps and the Gathering have a more progressive, rough and tumble experimental approach to the jazz they make. Sharps' virtuousic rips up and down the soprano sax were ear splitting, vibrant, outrageous and bold. He plays many reed instruments, and every instrument he touched today screamed with brilliant spellbinding urgency. I was disappointed not to hear his take on the bassoon which he had on standby. That's my old instrument and when I played it, it never crossed my mind that it could be used in a jazz ensemble. Regret turns up in the oddest places. Nevertheless, its always a good sign when you wish the music went on longer.
On the way back home, while I waited for the bus, I am ashamed to say that I started feeling a bit on edge. I'm sure that I was never in any danger, but I felt threatened nonetheless because of how out of place I was in the neighborhood. Across the street I could hear yelling and at first I thought it was a fight. When an elderly woman sat down next to me at the bus stop, I was surprised by the relief I felt by her presence. At some point I realized the yelling had to do with a game, dice maybe? Not sure. I was definitely nonplussed by my prejudices.
But, overall it was a memorable and rewarding experience.
A weekend for the blogs.
Friday night, my girl Stella and I used the subway to go to Pasadena to see our friend Brian Friedland play with his big band orchestra at the Jazz Institute. This guy has incredible chops on the keys, and his compositions are mad genius. He fuses classical elements into his jazz, quite literally in the case of a big band arrangement of Bartok's piano work Free Variations. I anxiously await a recording of Up the Coast, an astounding impressionistic journey with generous, expansive solos for various musicians.
This was the first time I have ridden the subway in a couple years. The rapid transit system in Los Angeles takes a commitment unheard of in places like San Francisco or New York. The subway goes far but not to many places considering the vastness of the area. The buses often feel overcrowded and perilous. The lines really slow down or stop altogether after a certain time, so you have to be careful not to get stranded. But Stella and I had an unexplainable urge to leave the car at home, and our destination in Pasadena was very close to the Gold Line. So off we went. Riding public transit is always interesting, with so many lives brushing against each other.
The ride out was a smooth one. I was able to have an extra margarita because I wasn't worried about driving. On the way back, there was an older grizzled man wearing a gold vest exposing his bony chest. He carried a large plastic bag, contents unknown. He would occasionally break into a jig or play a beat on the wall of the subway car. At every stop, he would step out of the train and would jump back in at the last possible moment after the chime signaled the doors were closing. I was worried he wouldn't make it back into the train leaving his bag behind for all of us to look at suspiciously. But he made it every time.
The only snag that night came when we got stranded at the Vermont/Wilshire station on the way back and had to walk the remaining mile to our apartment. Despite the late time, (12:30am) it wasn't a bad walk, and we treated it as an adventure. Koreatown is not too bad in most parts, especially when you stick to the main thoroughfares like Wilshire. I had a vendor hotdog that was some kind of delicious, all grilled onions, charred dog, and tangy mustard. A beautiful thing, those vendor dogs.
I decided to make public transit a theme for the weekend. Saturday evening, I went to a party in Hollywood using the bus and rail lines. I got to Hollywood and Vine and then hoofed it up to the where the party was.
Then today, I decided to find something fun and free to do. I used the bus to go to Crenshaw and 43rd for the World Stage Jazz Festival where I caught stellar performances from Bobby Matos and his Afro Latin Jazz Ensemble as well as Jesse Sharps and the Gathering. The decision to go was spontaneous. I approached the trip with a combination of trepidation and excitement. This was the first time visiting the Leimart Park neighborhood on foot, and I wasn't sure what to expect.
The Leimart Park area turns out to be pretty inspiring. There are lots of shops with art and several venues for live music. There's a great coffee shop on Degnan that I hope to visit again someday for more than just water.
The festival took place in a public parking lot. A large white canopy housed chairs that probably accommodated a couple hundred people. It was a welcome respite from the harsh and constant rays of the friendly, fearsome sun. Anyone over the age of 40 was very well dressed, probably visiting the festival after a morning in church. Lots of families ambled about visiting the various kiosks selling artwork and food. At one point, I bought a spicy Cajun chicken dog - it seems I have a weakness for grilled hot dogs from outside vendors, and this one did not disappoint.
I stayed for two sets - the groups I had the privilege of listening to were very different from each other. Bobby Matos and his group were all laid back and cool. Their Latin grooves had people dancing up front, and heads were bopping back and forth under the canopy. There was a dancing red haired shirtless Jethro Tull look-alike spinning in circles so many times I'm surprised he didn't fall down.
Jesse Sharps and the Gathering have a more progressive, rough and tumble experimental approach to the jazz they make. Sharps' virtuousic rips up and down the soprano sax were ear splitting, vibrant, outrageous and bold. He plays many reed instruments, and every instrument he touched today screamed with brilliant spellbinding urgency. I was disappointed not to hear his take on the bassoon which he had on standby. That's my old instrument and when I played it, it never crossed my mind that it could be used in a jazz ensemble. Regret turns up in the oddest places. Nevertheless, its always a good sign when you wish the music went on longer.
On the way back home, while I waited for the bus, I am ashamed to say that I started feeling a bit on edge. I'm sure that I was never in any danger, but I felt threatened nonetheless because of how out of place I was in the neighborhood. Across the street I could hear yelling and at first I thought it was a fight. When an elderly woman sat down next to me at the bus stop, I was surprised by the relief I felt by her presence. At some point I realized the yelling had to do with a game, dice maybe? Not sure. I was definitely nonplussed by my prejudices.
But, overall it was a memorable and rewarding experience.
A weekend for the blogs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
