misc

In the void of space, no one
can hear Mike Duncan scream.
(Illustration by Gray Morrow)

Bob Edwards was intervieiwing Mike Duncan^* about a website the RNC set up to solicit from the public ideas about "what we have done well and what we can improve upon as we move forward". (You can listen to the piece from a link at the top of this Morning Edition page; the part I'm talking about starts at about 3:40 in from the beginning.)

Edwards read a submission to the website that said the Republican party needs to get some distance from the religious right, and asked Duncan what he thought about that. Mike gave an answer about how the Republican party was for everyone. Edwards pressed the point, asking whether the party could seem exclusive if it was too focused on one constituency. Duncan repeated and expanded on his boilerplate answer about inclusiveness.

And then: Edwards read the original letter again and asked whether there was an assumption the author of the letter was making that was mistaken.

Silence.

Edwards asked the question again, subbing "wrong" for "mistaken". Duncan finally (and testily) repeats that the Republican party is a big tent with room in it for all types.

It is rare to hear an A-list politician at a loss for words, especially when he is campaigning. I guess the religious right still — even in a time when the GOP is desperate for some kind of traction — holds enough sway in the party that party leaders are unwilling to say anything if they can't say anything nice.

^* Mike Duncan is running for re-election as the Chairman of the Republican National Committee, which is the group that develops and promotes the GOP platform and is tasked with getting Republicans elected.

We got these cheapo plastic chairs from Ikea for the kids at Sg's birthday party to sit on. I've checked with AT to be sure, and she agrees that Sg has spent the vast majority of her discretionary free time over the past two day stacking and restacking these chairs. It's a funny passion, or a sign of serious mental illness, one.

It's true. I've tried it and it works. If you start your 2006 or later Toyota Rav4 in park, with neither the pedal nor the handbrake engaged, and then:

• Raise the handbrake,
• Pump the pedal brake twice,
• Lower the handbrake,
• Press the pedal brake down,
• Pump the handbrake twice,
• Release the pedal brake,
• Raise the handbrake, and then
• Pump the pedal brake twice,

...the Vehicle Stability Control and Traction Control systems are deactivated. (Depending upon how you look at it, these systems either keep you from making certain stupid maneuvers or keep you from regretting the stupid maneuvers you try to make. Put simply, the TC and VSC keep you from burning rubber.) The little swervy-car light on the dash comes on, and a computerized voice* reminds me that my car, despite being a baby SUV (i.e., a tall mid-sized station wagon) has about the same horsepower-to-weight ratio as a Mazda RX-8. Vrooom!

(Sg, the fact that you have survived to read this owes something to the fact that the TC and VSC systems are automatically re-activated whenever the car is turned off. Mom and Dad, I promise not to enter the Freedom Code when Sg will be riding with me.)

I'm going to try some different combos (maybe including the windshield wipers and radio preset buttons) to see if I can unlock invincible mode.

* Computerized voice may be imaginary

After hearing an interview with the author on NPR this morning, I decided to spend some time this evening reading Creative Loafing’s three part peice on the Black Mafia Family, which is pretty much what it sounds like. Wikipedia tells us:

The Black Mafia Family, or BMF, is a drug trafficking organization originally from Detroit, with major hubs in Atlanta and Los Angeles, that in 2000 delved into the world of hip-hop music and entertainment, successfully promoting not only Young Jeezy but also BMF Entertainment’s sole artist, Bleu DaVinci.

The Creative Loafing piece is fun for a few reasons. There is the writing, which seems to be the product of a farm team reporter with an ambitious approach to narrative. The story is told in vignettes that jump back and forward in time. Occasionally these leaps left me grasping for the thread of the story, but more often than not the author (Mara Shalhoup) makes it work.

There is the tale itself, an archetypal journey through success (“federal prosecutors would estimate that BMF pulled in tens of millions of dollars annually — at least $270 million since the organization got its start”) to excess (“BMF members have credited themselves with inventing a phenomenon called ‘making it rain.’ They would toss fistfuls of money in the air. The bills would descend like droplets. And the crowd would go wild.”) and, eventually, to downfall. In this city, you gotta make the money first. Then when you get the money, you get the power. Then when you get the power, then you get the women. Then, apparently, you get investigated by a number of local, state and federal authorities and, eventually, indicted. (Did I mention the murders? There are murders.)

But story and storytelling aside, my favorite thing about the Creative Loafing story is the backdrop. When I read about “a crew selling large quantities of coke up and down Boulevard”, I'm thinking “oh, yeah, it’s so totally all like ‘the Wire’ down there on a Friday night”. When I read that “Jeffery gunned it through a red light at Spring Street and North Avenue, and agents lost him”, I think “hey, I’m at that intersection like 5 times a week!” (I also thought “hey, that’s good to know if I ever need to ditch the feds”. But then I thought “that light is photo enforced now, perhaps limiting its utility as a getaway device”. Oh well.) My Atlanta now includes a new and fascinating layer; my day-to-day mise en scène is a little more interesting. Good stuff.

The video above is the product of the record label arm of BMF, and it is partly a love letter to Atlanta. I’m not qualified to judge its merits from a hip-hop perspective (though I do enjoy the 8-bit “pong” sound in the first half of the video), but I enjoy it because it is shot through with an affection for this town that is not unlike my own. ‘Cept I don’t run a flamboyant record label cum drug smuggling ring. Yet!

(One caveat—the story of BMF as told in the Creative Loafing piece seems too good to be true. And indeed, there is a lot of inference that could either point to a vast underground crime organization with a ruthless code of silence or point to a bunch of thugs who hang out together but do thuggish things more or less on their own. If the story is as good as it appears, then there is a pretty good book in it.)

I was playing this flash adventure game and found it was most fun when I took full advantage of the opportunity to name the characters in my adventurer's party. Here are some of the results. I must warn you that, while I think that any citizen may find this amusing, only someone unhealthily obsessed with every twist and turn in this insane campaign season (like I am) will find this giggle-all-day funny (like I did).

More examples below the fold!

Do you think maybe that the first time Johann Pachelbel showed someone his score-in-process for his famous Canon in D that the initial response was "wow, that's really inoffensive; that would be great for weddings"?

“Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to AAAAHHHRRRRGH! ME LEG!!”

— OR —

“And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And in the babe’s stomach ye shall find a license plate, a boot and most of a mackerel.”