20) Honest Abe and Turkey Day
American families began holding unofficial Thanksgiving dinners back in the 1700s, but it wasn’t until Abraham Lincoln’s Proclamation in 1863 that the last Thursday in November was officially recognized as a national holiday of Thanksgiving. Six weeks later Lincoln would set foot on Gettysburg soil and offer “a few appropriate remarks” that the world would long remember.
I’d say Abe's six weeks in 1863 are > my last six weeks by a factor of infinity + 1 (give or take a bear claw).
19) The Holiday Calendar
I’m old school. I FIRMLY believe the Christmas season should begin AFTER Thanksgiving. And yes, it’s mighty fortunate I wasn’t holding the code to a missile silo three weeks ago when I heard Jingle Bells in Arby’s.
But now that Turkey Day (ham in my family) is behind us, I’m ready to shift the yule into 6th gear. Bring out the egg nog and throw Love Actually in the DVD. If Billy Mack can’t get you into the Christmas spirit, I’ve got nothing for you.
18) A Random Thought Re: Corporate America
“We better find some managers to manage the managers.”
17) A Generational Thing
I’m hoping some of you caught ESPN’s profile on Rob Jones, grandson of the notorious cult leader (and mass murderer at Jonestown), Jim Jones Sr.
With every new generation, there comes much reason for hope.
16) Rails to Tomorrow
For the first time in 50 years, two passenger trains -- one northward bound, the other heading south -- took passengers between North and South Korea last week.
On board the North-bound train was a conductor who made one of the last railway crossings before they ended because of the 1950-53 Korean War. "I wish I could operate this train myself," Han Chun-ki, 80, said. "I never thought this day would come".
15) The Host Is Right?
Is Drew Carry really the new host of the Price is Right? Don’t you think CBS could have made the visual transition a little easier on us – perhaps by introducing a middle-aged, semi-fit substitute before settling in on the ultimate contrast: the pimply-faced, portly Carry. This could be a good marriage in the end, but the contrast is gonna take some getting used to.
14) This is Going to Blow You Right Out of the Water
“Have you heard of this thing: eight minute abs?”
“Yeah, sure, 8-minute abs...the exercise video.”
“Listen to this: 7-minute abs.”
13) Pandora
Sometimes it takes two or three people, advocating for the same thing, before it sets in that I need to pay attention. Pandora, the “make your own radio station” website, falls into this category for me. But now that I’m onboard, I’m all in. Pandora's site is super easy to use, and after you suggest an initial artist/song, they hit you with a great potpourri of like-sounding artists.
Thanks go to Elena, Allison, and others for getting me tuned in.
12) Potty mouths
Is it me or can you now get away with saying virtually anything on network television? I know that “son of a bitch” is now permissible; I hear it all the time. I’m pretty sure other verbal discretions are now sanctioned without fines as well.
Maybe the FCC was just waiting for Howard Stern to leave the public air waves before they loosened the verbal leash.
11) Google Looking to Buy Spectrum
Speaking of the FCC, Google has announced its interest in spending up to $4.6 billion in the upcoming auction for wireless spectrum (700 MHz). All this from a search engine specialist feeling lucky.
I think it's 50/50 whether they send a man to Mars by 2015.
10) “All Politics is Local”
This famous quote from U.S. House Speaker Tip O’ Neil has taken on a new meaning in Chicago. Todd Stroger, President of the Cook County Board of Commissioners, is now on a war path to increase the Cook County sales tax to a highest-in-nation 11%. Here's to hoping that locals care enough to weigh in on this, and other issues in Chicago, which affect our lives exponentially more than 99.9% of CNN's headlines.
9) Que Syrah, Syrah
As you trudge through wine stores this holiday season and notice that the shelves are disproportionately stocked with Pinot Noir and Cabernet Sauvignon, do yourself a favor and go around the corner and try a few Syrahs. Syrah is the same grape as “Shiraz” – the latter being the Australian spelling. In the U.S., South America, and France, Syrahs tend to be medium-bodied and full of fruit, without being as big or spicy as their Australian brethren.
The 2005 Concha Y Toro “Marques de Casa” Syrah is about as good a $15 as I’ve spent in recent months. For less ($10), you could nab the La Forge Syrah from France -- a solid choice and readily available. For a few more dollars ($18ish), Qupe prides itself on this grape.
Syrahs are perfect for the cool nights of early December, before the weather turns ultra cold and you’re left wanting the biggest, spiciest red the local wine store can offer up.
8) Move Over Gutenberg: Here Comes Kindle
570 years after Gutenberg revolutionized the world with the printing press, Amazon is looking to redefine the way we read all over again. The Kindle, Amazon's New Wireless Reading Device, was officially launched last Monday after over three years of production. Surprisingly, initial customer reviews are favorable. Another surprise: 100 of the top 110 NYT Best Sellers are already available for download through Kindle for only $9.99.
Interesting.
7) Heads you lose, tails you lose
Yes, I cling to late-night-life-explaining metaphors. Lately, I'm thinking that life is really as random as a series of coin flips. And just like a particularly bad streak of luck when flipping a coin, you’ve got to be prepared to endure some long losing streaks in the game of life. You will go 0-for-10 sometimes.
I have people that would support me no matter how many coin tosses I lost. But not everyone can say the same. If you’re barely getting by year after year, and then all of the sudden you go 0-for-10, well that could break someone's back for good.
The people near & dear: my how they count.
6) Lunch-time Inflation
$6 used to be sufficient for my lunchtime combo of sandwich + chips + drink. No mas. In the last year or so, I've noticed that $8 is now the requisite outlay. I'm not happy about this change, but I think I'm going to lose this battle.
5) No Country for Old Men
While reading Richard Powers' excellent (!) novel, "The Gold Bug Variations," I came across a sentence ending in "no country for old men." I immediately wondered if Cormac McCarthy was borrowing from Powers. After a little research, I learned that the quote is actually derived from the first line of a Yeats' poem: "Sailing to Byzantium." So in actuality both literary masters are pilfering from still a greater Jedi.
All of which leads me back to Woody Guthrie who admitted, "he may steal from me, but I steal from everybody."
4) The Warren Zevon Quote of the Month
"It's tough to be somebody, and it's hard to keep from falling apart. Here on Rehab Mountain, we all learn these things by heart."
3) Friday Night Lights
Did I already mention that this is the best show on television? Well let me say this for the record: THIS IS THE BEST SHOW ON TELEVISION.
2) Gold
Somebody explain this one to me: why was gold so valuable back in the day? People rush to California, a few find gold nuggets....and then what, they overnight the gold to Fort Knox in exchange for some quick cash?
In an advanced, free-flowing market of buyers/sellers, I get how a rare commodity could be valuable. But back when you needed SeaBiscuit to get anywhere, and drive-up banking windows were sparse, what did you do with the gold once you found it?
1) White, Non-Blinking Christmas Lights
Anything less would be uncivilized.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
If I Were Barack Obama: Part II
This is a hypothetical speech which Senator Obama could give in New Orleans, kicking off a "Week with America." It segues from the last entry. See if my speech writing skills pass the test.
Friends and family of New Orleans,
Tonight I begin again.
Two weeks ago I did something which 24-hours earlier would have seemed impossible: I stopped dead in my tracks.
I canceled a meeting with my advisers. I delayed a rally.
Instead, I went for a walk. I took pause.
Pause for the sake of reflecting on that which lies before me. Pause for the sake of reconnecting with myself, my God, and my fellow man.
In doing so I reminded myself that my pursuits on this earth -– my successes and my failures, my hopes and my ambitions –- are but a small part of God’s greater plan.
I also reminded myself that he is a loving God, faithful to us in every imaginable way, working in ways that we can not begin to understand or fathom.
800 days ago the levees broke and a mighty sea engulfed this soulful city. And only God knows why.
But as for what happened next, after the levees broke and the waters continued to rise, I need not turn to God for an explanation.
I know that our country failed you.
Our government failed you.
And I failed you.
Levees break from time to time. The bonds of men have to be stronger than any rain. Stronger than the wind and the sea.
For you are my brother’s keeper and I am yours. And in times of distress, when levees break, our bonds must be unbending. Our bonds must ensure safe keeping.
For if my neighbor suffers, then I also suffer. If my neighbor is without shelter, then I too must feel the storm's raging winds.
Compassion and empathy – these are our most noble birthrights – and in times of distress they must be infinite in their reserve.
But in August of 2005, when the levees broke, our government failed you. In your hour of need, our compassion was finite.
And for that we all share in the blame.
I find solace only in knowing that the darkest hours in our nation’s history have often preceded a luminous dawn.
“Hope has never trickled down. It always springs up” -- these are the words of the great Chicago historian Studs Terkel. With tomorrow there is possibility, where hours before, only despair.
When tyranny reigned over the colonies, we fought for independence.
When our union was severed and a race unto man enslaved, we fought for a new nation: of, by, and for the people.
When the Depression struck, we made a New Deal.
When the world wanted war, we answered with the greatest generation.
When civil rights were denied, we had a dream, and then we overcame.
Our nation has triumphed in the face of war and hunger, disease and depression, prejudice and presumption. Over time, in every direction, there in only hope.
But as we stand here on this delta, I know it’s difficult for the people of this city to feel the inertia of hope. In the wake of an unprecedented flood, and a government which lay idle, the audacity of hope must seem audacious indeed.
So let this next point be abundantly clear: when the rain comes and the waters rise, those in power must spring to action. It shouldn’t require an act of Congress or a calling card.
A President’s primary responsibility is protecting the lives of each and every citizen. And protection must extend beyond terrorist acts and the wars of nations. Protection must include refuge from raging fires and shelter from deadly storms.
A government is responsible whenever and wherever its citizens are suffering. And a government’s responsibility does not lessen until that suffering has ceased altogether.
If a government does not act with conviction and immediacy in protecting its people, both at home and abroad, then new leaders should be made to govern. For if a people loses faith in their government, then that government has failed in its fundamental function, and it will come undone.
I can not control the swelling of the seas, but if elected, I will do more than preach. My government -– our government -- will pour the cement. We will do the heavy lifting.
We will spring to action when action is called for. We will look out for the least able among us, every hour of the day.
For right now, on this bayou, the trumpet summons us again.
We are the nation which created the Peace Corps and the G.I. Bill.
We are a farmer for the hungry, and a doctor for the sick.
We put a man on the moon, and we will find a cure for cancer.
Our nation's potential is limitless; we do whatever comes next.
And the time has come for those who would do for their country to rise again: the vitality of this soulful city has been threatened by a momentous storm.
So let us build schools as a reminder that torrential rains can not dampen our children's future.
Let us build houses as a reminder that violent winds can not shatter our resolve.
Let us create jobs as a reminder that commerce can not be deterred by a high water mark.
Let us build a cathedral as a requiem for Katrina, where the people of this great city can worship in their own way, in their own time, before their own God.
Let us build a government which leads by example and inspires its citizens to grab a hammer and lend a hand.
And let us agree, right here, right now – that this will be more than rhetoric. Let us agree that we will enlist the services of our neighbor, to help thy neighbor.
Nails for a home do not require Congressional approval. Teachers do not require a reminder, “no child left behind.” Kindness does not require an invitation.
We must all contribute and that includes me.
Beginning this week, as I lay out my vision for America, I will address the pivotal issues facing our nation -- healthcare, immigration, the economy, and national defense -- and I will remind American families that we are not finished in New Orleans.
I will remind America that we must increase the bandwidth of humanity, beginning on this bayou. I will remind America that our obligation begins this week, not next week.
Every week matters in America.
(Pause)
Soon you will vote, because thousands have given their lives so that we might have a free and impartial election. They gave their lives to foster a democracy based on liberty and equality, in which all persons alike share in the government to the utmost.
But also know this: after your votes are cast and counted, I will come back to the crescent city. I will return regardless of the election's outcome. I will do my part to help build a cathedral from Katrina.
I will make phone calls. I will dial for dollars. I will ask others to join us in New Orleans as we create anew. I will pick up a hammer and put it to wood.
It is the least I can do.
(Pause)
As I leave here tonight, already anticipating my return, I hark back to the refrain that hangs from the sign on the Statue of Liberty: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses who yearn to breathe free."
In our own way, we are all tired; we are all poor; and above all else, we all yearn to breathe free.
But freedom is more than a place in time or a state of mind. Freedom is more than the air we breathe.
Freedom is an unwavering commitment to the woman on your left, and a newfound compassion for the man on your right.
Freedom is an inseparable band of brothers, and a consecrated union between two loving men.
Freedom is the right to speak out in protest, and the right to openly bear arms.
Freedom is a playground where little white boys, and little black girls, swing in each other's arms without a reason for reservation.
And freedom is an oasis of justice in the face of oppression.
Freedom is a bridge leading to the brilliant yonder of tomorrow, where every valley shall be exalted, and every hill made low.
And at the end of the day, freedom is a psalm unto God in heaven, sung in a piercing falsetto voice.
My friends, freedom is America. And tonight it summons us again.
Come and join me. Hear its calling.
For the sun will soon rise over a hopeful tomorrow, and there is no telling what the new dawn will bring.
God bless you all. And God bless The United States of America.
Friends and family of New Orleans,
Tonight I begin again.
Two weeks ago I did something which 24-hours earlier would have seemed impossible: I stopped dead in my tracks.
I canceled a meeting with my advisers. I delayed a rally.
Instead, I went for a walk. I took pause.
Pause for the sake of reflecting on that which lies before me. Pause for the sake of reconnecting with myself, my God, and my fellow man.
In doing so I reminded myself that my pursuits on this earth -– my successes and my failures, my hopes and my ambitions –- are but a small part of God’s greater plan.
I also reminded myself that he is a loving God, faithful to us in every imaginable way, working in ways that we can not begin to understand or fathom.
800 days ago the levees broke and a mighty sea engulfed this soulful city. And only God knows why.
But as for what happened next, after the levees broke and the waters continued to rise, I need not turn to God for an explanation.
I know that our country failed you.
Our government failed you.
And I failed you.
Levees break from time to time. The bonds of men have to be stronger than any rain. Stronger than the wind and the sea.
For you are my brother’s keeper and I am yours. And in times of distress, when levees break, our bonds must be unbending. Our bonds must ensure safe keeping.
For if my neighbor suffers, then I also suffer. If my neighbor is without shelter, then I too must feel the storm's raging winds.
Compassion and empathy – these are our most noble birthrights – and in times of distress they must be infinite in their reserve.
But in August of 2005, when the levees broke, our government failed you. In your hour of need, our compassion was finite.
And for that we all share in the blame.
I find solace only in knowing that the darkest hours in our nation’s history have often preceded a luminous dawn.
“Hope has never trickled down. It always springs up” -- these are the words of the great Chicago historian Studs Terkel. With tomorrow there is possibility, where hours before, only despair.
When tyranny reigned over the colonies, we fought for independence.
When our union was severed and a race unto man enslaved, we fought for a new nation: of, by, and for the people.
When the Depression struck, we made a New Deal.
When the world wanted war, we answered with the greatest generation.
When civil rights were denied, we had a dream, and then we overcame.
Our nation has triumphed in the face of war and hunger, disease and depression, prejudice and presumption. Over time, in every direction, there in only hope.
But as we stand here on this delta, I know it’s difficult for the people of this city to feel the inertia of hope. In the wake of an unprecedented flood, and a government which lay idle, the audacity of hope must seem audacious indeed.
So let this next point be abundantly clear: when the rain comes and the waters rise, those in power must spring to action. It shouldn’t require an act of Congress or a calling card.
A President’s primary responsibility is protecting the lives of each and every citizen. And protection must extend beyond terrorist acts and the wars of nations. Protection must include refuge from raging fires and shelter from deadly storms.
A government is responsible whenever and wherever its citizens are suffering. And a government’s responsibility does not lessen until that suffering has ceased altogether.
If a government does not act with conviction and immediacy in protecting its people, both at home and abroad, then new leaders should be made to govern. For if a people loses faith in their government, then that government has failed in its fundamental function, and it will come undone.
I can not control the swelling of the seas, but if elected, I will do more than preach. My government -– our government -- will pour the cement. We will do the heavy lifting.
We will spring to action when action is called for. We will look out for the least able among us, every hour of the day.
For right now, on this bayou, the trumpet summons us again.
We are the nation which created the Peace Corps and the G.I. Bill.
We are a farmer for the hungry, and a doctor for the sick.
We put a man on the moon, and we will find a cure for cancer.
Our nation's potential is limitless; we do whatever comes next.
And the time has come for those who would do for their country to rise again: the vitality of this soulful city has been threatened by a momentous storm.
So let us build schools as a reminder that torrential rains can not dampen our children's future.
Let us build houses as a reminder that violent winds can not shatter our resolve.
Let us create jobs as a reminder that commerce can not be deterred by a high water mark.
Let us build a cathedral as a requiem for Katrina, where the people of this great city can worship in their own way, in their own time, before their own God.
Let us build a government which leads by example and inspires its citizens to grab a hammer and lend a hand.
And let us agree, right here, right now – that this will be more than rhetoric. Let us agree that we will enlist the services of our neighbor, to help thy neighbor.
Nails for a home do not require Congressional approval. Teachers do not require a reminder, “no child left behind.” Kindness does not require an invitation.
We must all contribute and that includes me.
Beginning this week, as I lay out my vision for America, I will address the pivotal issues facing our nation -- healthcare, immigration, the economy, and national defense -- and I will remind American families that we are not finished in New Orleans.
I will remind America that we must increase the bandwidth of humanity, beginning on this bayou. I will remind America that our obligation begins this week, not next week.
Every week matters in America.
(Pause)
Soon you will vote, because thousands have given their lives so that we might have a free and impartial election. They gave their lives to foster a democracy based on liberty and equality, in which all persons alike share in the government to the utmost.
But also know this: after your votes are cast and counted, I will come back to the crescent city. I will return regardless of the election's outcome. I will do my part to help build a cathedral from Katrina.
I will make phone calls. I will dial for dollars. I will ask others to join us in New Orleans as we create anew. I will pick up a hammer and put it to wood.
It is the least I can do.
(Pause)
As I leave here tonight, already anticipating my return, I hark back to the refrain that hangs from the sign on the Statue of Liberty: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses who yearn to breathe free."
In our own way, we are all tired; we are all poor; and above all else, we all yearn to breathe free.
But freedom is more than a place in time or a state of mind. Freedom is more than the air we breathe.
Freedom is an unwavering commitment to the woman on your left, and a newfound compassion for the man on your right.
Freedom is an inseparable band of brothers, and a consecrated union between two loving men.
Freedom is the right to speak out in protest, and the right to openly bear arms.
Freedom is a playground where little white boys, and little black girls, swing in each other's arms without a reason for reservation.
And freedom is an oasis of justice in the face of oppression.
Freedom is a bridge leading to the brilliant yonder of tomorrow, where every valley shall be exalted, and every hill made low.
And at the end of the day, freedom is a psalm unto God in heaven, sung in a piercing falsetto voice.
My friends, freedom is America. And tonight it summons us again.
Come and join me. Hear its calling.
For the sun will soon rise over a hopeful tomorrow, and there is no telling what the new dawn will bring.
God bless you all. And God bless The United States of America.
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