Monday, November 24, 2008
Exclamation (unnecessary) Protection (unwanted)
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Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Democratic Assumption
For the first time since LBJ in 1964, Nebraska's second district (which includes Omaha) this year gave its one, mighty electoral vote to a Democrat. Talk of this possibility ramped up after Obama won the Iowa caucus, but it still seemed incredibly unlikely (much like his eventual presidency). Ironically, I'd moved from the district to Michigan thinking that my vote could actually count for a change — turned out, McCain ceded Michigan when he pulled out his staff in early October, while Nebraska's third electoral vote wasn't secured for Obama until a few days after Election Day.
Omaha's The Reader thought the occasion was historic enough to donate a large cover story to the news. The project featured a "where were you" piece consisting of Reader writer's narratives. I contributed this:
Polling booth four, three blocks from my house in East Lansing, Mich., a reverse Nader effect, and Obama got my vote. The state was projected to be in the bag, but I hadn’t even had coffee yet, what if Joe the Plumber starts dating an Olsen twin this afternoon?
At 7 p.m. EST, as my professor explained where we/I had gone wrong on my mass media and society test, I was streaming MSNBC with CNN, CBS and Fox in three other panels on my 12-inch, beat-up iBook screen.
Comparing vote projections, counting pinstripe suits, feeling tech savvy.
It was the first time I’d streamed something live — it still feels awkward to say — and after eight weeks, the first time I’d taken notes on my laptop in the class.
But how could I truly engage what and how forces enable or disable individuals to fulfill their democratic roles of caring and competence when the answers were this class, blocking my news fix, and is Bob Barr pulling ahead?
Omaha's The Reader thought the occasion was historic enough to donate a large cover story to the news. The project featured a "where were you" piece consisting of Reader writer's narratives. I contributed this:
Polling booth four, three blocks from my house in East Lansing, Mich., a reverse Nader effect, and Obama got my vote. The state was projected to be in the bag, but I hadn’t even had coffee yet, what if Joe the Plumber starts dating an Olsen twin this afternoon?
At 7 p.m. EST, as my professor explained where we/I had gone wrong on my mass media and society test, I was streaming MSNBC with CNN, CBS and Fox in three other panels on my 12-inch, beat-up iBook screen.
Comparing vote projections, counting pinstripe suits, feeling tech savvy.
It was the first time I’d streamed something live — it still feels awkward to say — and after eight weeks, the first time I’d taken notes on my laptop in the class.
But how could I truly engage what and how forces enable or disable individuals to fulfill their democratic roles of caring and competence when the answers were this class, blocking my news fix, and is Bob Barr pulling ahead?
Bomb the Music Industry
A&E editor Eric at the Pulse asked me if I'd cover a show a couple weeks back.
"From what I know, there seems to be a real lack of d.i.y. efforts and music in East Lansing, so this seems like it could be the start of something positive," he said.
I agreed with that sense at the time — I hadn't seen much of any DIY music since I'd moved to town (I made sure to temper my bitching with the acknowledgement that I haven't exactly been taking advantage of most of small shows I have seen advertised on photocopied fliers at placed like the record store Flat, Black and Circular.)
This show actually made me excited for some of the cultural efforts happening here. It's not going to knock you over the head — you have to find it yourself.
Here's the story.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Canary in the Coal Mine
Digging into the complexities of Michigan's economy and environment has been a great challenge, and a lot of fun. My first freelance piece ran in Lansing's alt-weekly the City Pulse Wednesday. It examined the extent to which public utility Lansing Board of Water and Light tried to find an environmental representative for its citizens advisory panel, charged with to eliciting public opinion and making recommendations on its plan to build a new $1 billion, primarily coal-fired power plant. It is an attempt to show the public that it won't just railroad this plan through the city council.
At the crux of the issue is BWL's naming, Dennis Muchmore, a long-time lobbyist and current director of Michigan United Conservation Clubs. Aside from other ties that bring into question Muchmore's ability to act as an impartial representative of the public's environmental interest, his lobbying firm represented BWL in the past. Critics have called him a token and a ringer for BWL. But Muchmore says he sold his interest in the firm four years ago.
No problem, right?
Except that an SEC filing (view it here) he made Sept. 28, 2007, Muchmore listed the firm as his employer. We'll see what shakes out on it. Read the whole story.
*************************
On another note, I moved to Michigan during its worst economy since the Great Depression. Unemployment here is the highest in the country at 8.9 percent; it's at five-year high of 6.1 percent nationally. Roads suck, the Department of Environmental Quality is so incredibly underfunded companies can now dump pollutants in waterways without first submitting to an on-site inspection. Towns like Detroit and Flint are decimated, and boarded-up gas stations and empty businesses line blocks even in relatively prosperous Lansing with "for sale" signs that read as jokes.
Clearly, as goes the auto industry, so goes Michigan's economy. I stumbled upon this interview with The United States of Toyota author Peter M. De Lorenzo, about voters' feelings about the candidates' auto-related policies. This section, in particular, struck me:
At the crux of the issue is BWL's naming, Dennis Muchmore, a long-time lobbyist and current director of Michigan United Conservation Clubs. Aside from other ties that bring into question Muchmore's ability to act as an impartial representative of the public's environmental interest, his lobbying firm represented BWL in the past. Critics have called him a token and a ringer for BWL. But Muchmore says he sold his interest in the firm four years ago.
No problem, right?
Except that an SEC filing (view it here) he made Sept. 28, 2007, Muchmore listed the firm as his employer. We'll see what shakes out on it. Read the whole story.
*************************
On another note, I moved to Michigan during its worst economy since the Great Depression. Unemployment here is the highest in the country at 8.9 percent; it's at five-year high of 6.1 percent nationally. Roads suck, the Department of Environmental Quality is so incredibly underfunded companies can now dump pollutants in waterways without first submitting to an on-site inspection. Towns like Detroit and Flint are decimated, and boarded-up gas stations and empty businesses line blocks even in relatively prosperous Lansing with "for sale" signs that read as jokes.
Clearly, as goes the auto industry, so goes Michigan's economy. I stumbled upon this interview with The United States of Toyota author Peter M. De Lorenzo, about voters' feelings about the candidates' auto-related policies. This section, in particular, struck me:
Detroit automakers have been "crying wolf" for the past five years — saying they're "12 months away from going out of business." How long do they really have?
I can tell you that the situation is precarious. There is no crying wolf, not by any stretch of the imagination. Chrysler will not survive past 2009 no matter what, because Cerberus Capital Management simply bit off more than they could chew. GM and Ford have eighteen months — tops — if they don't get things rolling again.
Read the interview here.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Jabs from a Punchline
I had no idea that Ralph Nader was going to speak in East Lansing (just a few blocks from our apartment) when I rented the documentary about him, An Unreasonable Man, two weeks ago. It was total chance. If you never payed much attention to politics before Nader, 74, made his first presidential bid in 1992 (as a write-in candidate in two states for "none of the above"), the film provides context past his reputation either as a spoiler or a joke. It also addresses the fact that he for years refused to run for president, doing so finally when he thought it was his only option to create the kind of populist change he wanted. He's on the ballot in 45 states this year; 11 more than in 2004.
Nader and his running mate, near-San Francisco mayor Matt Gonzalez (he lost to Democrat Gavin Newsom by six percentage points), were running late when we got to the Kellogg Center's "Big 10 Room" Sunday. I estimated about 250 people in the room, from widely varying backgrounds — hippie and hipster-looking students to white-haired ladies to an Indian man in his 50s who reported that Nader's driver took a wrong turn and that we'd have to wait a half hour (it was actually an hour). In the spirit of open democracy, an "unofficial representative" of something opened up the floor to anyone who wanted to talk. Many did.
A silver-haired gentleman in his 60s, who said he was a "Wolverine, but his wife, kids and money all went to MSU," bemoaned the fact (oft repeated during the event) that Nader is not being allowed to debate McCain and Obama.
A diminutive Vietnam vet in a suit coat who said he works in a lounge announced that he was an unapologetic Socialist, and that the only thing Democrats ever did for him was to send him to war.
The idea that Democrats take for granted issues that are important to people who skew left was one that many people echoed. I agree. Both Obama and McCain have shifted to the right during their runs, and the middle line has shifted further with them. Democrat strategy assumes that most everyone to the left is going to vote for their candidate based on the "lesser evil" dictum, but, as Nader loves to point out, "you're still left with evil." Democrats instead pander to the right by embracing (maybe "bitterly"?) guns and religion and anti-choice rhetoric. The thing is, not everyone thinks the difference between the two major party candidates is enough to vote for the lesser evil. I'm still wrestling with that one. I see a clear difference between Obama and McCain, and the thought of four more years of backward regulatory measures, civil rights laws and foreign policy makes me near hyperventilate, but it pisses me off that I am actually scared to vote for the person who best reflects my policy positions. The choice is made more difficult since I now live in a state where my vote might actually count. Michigan's anybody's ball game. (Nebraska has given Republicans all its electoral votes since 1964; some think this is the year that Omaha's district "goes blue." I doubt it.)
After a bunch of open-forum feel goodery, a shaggy-haired Gonzalez stepped to the lectern. Wearing a grey suit and a green tie, the former board supervisor president of a city many believe to be the most radical (both politically and bodaciously) in the country is a calm performer. He was steely eyed and articulate while aiming most of his attacks at Democrats (he was preaching predominately to the the choir, after all). He said if the Republicans were 100 percent bad, and Democrats 15 percent, he'd understand voting for the Dems. "But the Democrats are 85 percent bad."
He faulted Obama for voting for the 2005 Energy Policy Act that incentivized the oil industry which was already making record profits.
He highlighted Nader's plan to set the minimum wage at $10 and criticized the Democrat-controlled Congress for not fighting the Taft-Hartley Act, which among other things, makes it more difficult for workers to unionize.
"Both candidates want to double what we spend on our military," he said.
He closed by saying, "We go to a lot of places and people think we've done something wrong — well I think they've done something wrong!"
Nader received a standing ovation as he entered the room, wearing a grey suit and a blue tie. Standing under poor lighting as a non-CFL lightbulb occasionally flickered overhead, he ran through his platform proposals, which include:
- Adopting single-payer national health insurance;
- Opening up the presidential debates (obviously);
- Adopting a carbon-pollution tax;
- And (what I was most interested in hearing about) not investing in nuclear power but pushing for solar energy first.
Unfortunately, he, too, spent a good chunk of his time arguing for open debates and explaining why he's running, and didn't get as deep into the issues as I'd hoped. (It's ironic that even Nader has to waste time addressing mass-media spin — he's not a Democrat, and he thinks he'd be a better president than either of the two guys. If the Democrats can't beat the GOP after eight years of Bush, they don't deserve to win.)
Still, some of the stuff he said hit home. He talked about the 58,000 people who died last year due to air quality violations and work-related injuries. "Every three weeks we have the equivelent of a 9/11 from occupational disease and trauma-related deaths."
Some more quotes:
"The rationalization of our own futility is the vernacular of this country."
"We can go to the moon and hit a target 100 miles away in space but we can't end hunger?"
Nader's best idea? A law that says anytime Congress declares war, all age-qualified children and grandchildren of congressmen are automatically drafted.
* Thanks to Allyssa Bostick for the photo
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
From Harpers
Torture and Logic
Here's a great example of how Palin's rhetoric and experience, much less her stance on issues like the environment and abortion, contradict those of McCain.
Here's a great example of how Palin's rhetoric and experience, much less her stance on issues like the environment and abortion, contradict those of McCain.
A lot of prisoners had it much worse — a lot of — a lot of prisoners had it much worse than I did. I'd been mistreated before, but not as badly as many others. I always liked to strut a little after I'd been roughed up to show the other guys I was tough enough to take it. But after I turned down their offer, they worked me over harder than they ever had before — for a long time — and they broke me.
— John McCain, in his acceptance speech
Al Qaeda terrorists still plot to inflict catastrophic harm on America, and he's worried that someone won't read them their rights?
— Sarah Palin, in her speech the night before
My First Lansing Rock Show
My ears hadn't rung since I'd moved to greater Lansing. So I was quite ready to catch The Flatliners at Mac's Bar Saturday night. The band is a foursome of 21-year-olds (yeah, 21) who've added a little bit of reggae and a little bit of ska (minus horns) to up-tempo punk rock a la their label founder Fat Mike's band NoFX. (I interviewed Chris from the band for a piece that will run in The Reader later this week.) I've had a hard time getting into the band's new record, The Great Awake, but I like how they operate. They've got good heads on their shoulders (Chris even knows Mr. Show, though he was 11 when that show ended) and I'm sure they're doing well with younger punk fans.
Really, I was ready to see any kind of live music. I've been here for a month, and though I haven't delved deep enough into the "scene" to be able to say categorically that there isn't one, I won't let that stop me from saying that whatever it is, it's none too impressive. There are only a few original music venues in town, and none, like, say, O'Leaver's in Omaha, that focus solely on rock music. Diversity is a good thing, for sure. But I think it says something about the number of original live bands that there's no venues that, say, never do a dance night.
Instead, Lansing's scene seems to be where Omaha's (I'm told) was in the mid-'80s - heavy and content with its cover bands. In fact, to meet a friend at an Irish bar we actually had to pay a cover to see a cover band. That should never happen, much less for a band that played shitty versions of late-'90s rock hits.
Anyway, Mac's is apparently where good bands play when they play Lansing. And it's close to our house. As Angie and I drove up, I mentioned that we could walk home if we ever needed to. That proved prudent sooner than I thought.
The bar is not very large — probably 150 capacity, if that — and smoky as hell. As with most quality dive bars, the bathroom stalls feature great impromptu literature as well as the requisite poster of Johnny Cash flipping the bird. Mac's also has big-ass goblets of beer - $5 for PBR. My kind of place. The bartender, a friendly, lanky fellow named Clint with black spacers in his ears, said they had only had the goblets for about a week. Good timing.
Angie was actually working at the bar — registering people to vote for MoveOn.org — so I came early with her thinking I could chat up the band before the show and maybe get some quotes for this blog of mine. I was well into my first goblet before Angie reported that I had the wrong night — The Flatliners had played the night before. Bummer.
Still, the bands I saw coming into the bar seemed, at least asthetically, what I wanted to see (one was wearing a Nekromantix shirt), so I hung around. The first band was called Bert, and featured a little guy dressed like Fidel Castro on guitar, a heavy guy in sweat shorts on bass and a full-stack back row that included P.A. speakers and a beat machine standing in for a drummer. (I'd earlier overheard Fidel telling someone that it was a lot easier "not to have to deal with a real drummer.") Turns out, Bert was a "heavy sludge" band. Now, there's a lot I don't understand with the large and overly comprehensive genre of metal, but I found absolutely zero redeeming qualities in this band. Most of the songs featured two chords, a boring beat, and the occasional over-distorted thump of a bass note. Fidel's angry vocals focused on "bitches" that did him wrong and how he was going to "kick your ass" if you "fuck with" him. Neither of which I believed for a second.
What I enjoyed about Bert's set was that probably 10 people (maybe friends, who knows) stood in front and granted them slow head nods. If nothing else, that spoke to some in the scene's willingness to support even the shittiest of their bands. That, or it would have just been too painful to endure the already unintentionally comedic band playing to an empty floor. Either way, from my seat by Bert's merch table (they had great T-shirts), I thought that was cool.
Next up was Chapstik, a five-piece, riff-heavy, thrash/speed-metal band from Detroit featuring a fantastic female guitarist. This band redeemed the evening, ripping through probably 10 intricate, high-tempo songs and managing to put out a ton of energy without being cheesy. I enjoyed the hell out of them. They would be perfectly at home with Omaha/Lincoln bands like Bloodcow or the unfortunately defunct Axes to the Sky.
After their show, and using compliments as a pretence, I creeped up on four of the members who were hanging out by their van. The band's story is pretty interesting. It's been around since the mid-'90s, starting as a country punk band from San Antonio. None of the members I spoke to had played in it before 2001. Lead guitarist Leighton Mann was the sole survivor. Cycling through 23 members, Chapstick has put out three full-lengths during its sonic evolution and has toured extensively. A good example of a band surviving entirely on live shows and merch sales getting its message out through Myspace. It's not easy, but it happens.
The next band was a complete Misfits knock off (no masks for these guys) from Cleveland called Horror of 59. It was straight-up punk rock. Nothing unpredictable, but they put on a fun show. I even danced.
Death metal three-piece Superchrist closed the night, and while the crowd seemed to love them, I wasn't too into it. I finished my third goblet and we left. A cop parked immediately next to our car, we decided to take that reasonable walk home.
Really, I was ready to see any kind of live music. I've been here for a month, and though I haven't delved deep enough into the "scene" to be able to say categorically that there isn't one, I won't let that stop me from saying that whatever it is, it's none too impressive. There are only a few original music venues in town, and none, like, say, O'Leaver's in Omaha, that focus solely on rock music. Diversity is a good thing, for sure. But I think it says something about the number of original live bands that there's no venues that, say, never do a dance night.
Instead, Lansing's scene seems to be where Omaha's (I'm told) was in the mid-'80s - heavy and content with its cover bands. In fact, to meet a friend at an Irish bar we actually had to pay a cover to see a cover band. That should never happen, much less for a band that played shitty versions of late-'90s rock hits.
Anyway, Mac's is apparently where good bands play when they play Lansing. And it's close to our house. As Angie and I drove up, I mentioned that we could walk home if we ever needed to. That proved prudent sooner than I thought.
The bar is not very large — probably 150 capacity, if that — and smoky as hell. As with most quality dive bars, the bathroom stalls feature great impromptu literature as well as the requisite poster of Johnny Cash flipping the bird. Mac's also has big-ass goblets of beer - $5 for PBR. My kind of place. The bartender, a friendly, lanky fellow named Clint with black spacers in his ears, said they had only had the goblets for about a week. Good timing.
Angie was actually working at the bar — registering people to vote for MoveOn.org — so I came early with her thinking I could chat up the band before the show and maybe get some quotes for this blog of mine. I was well into my first goblet before Angie reported that I had the wrong night — The Flatliners had played the night before. Bummer.
Still, the bands I saw coming into the bar seemed, at least asthetically, what I wanted to see (one was wearing a Nekromantix shirt), so I hung around. The first band was called Bert, and featured a little guy dressed like Fidel Castro on guitar, a heavy guy in sweat shorts on bass and a full-stack back row that included P.A. speakers and a beat machine standing in for a drummer. (I'd earlier overheard Fidel telling someone that it was a lot easier "not to have to deal with a real drummer.") Turns out, Bert was a "heavy sludge" band. Now, there's a lot I don't understand with the large and overly comprehensive genre of metal, but I found absolutely zero redeeming qualities in this band. Most of the songs featured two chords, a boring beat, and the occasional over-distorted thump of a bass note. Fidel's angry vocals focused on "bitches" that did him wrong and how he was going to "kick your ass" if you "fuck with" him. Neither of which I believed for a second.
What I enjoyed about Bert's set was that probably 10 people (maybe friends, who knows) stood in front and granted them slow head nods. If nothing else, that spoke to some in the scene's willingness to support even the shittiest of their bands. That, or it would have just been too painful to endure the already unintentionally comedic band playing to an empty floor. Either way, from my seat by Bert's merch table (they had great T-shirts), I thought that was cool.
Next up was Chapstik, a five-piece, riff-heavy, thrash/speed-metal band from Detroit featuring a fantastic female guitarist. This band redeemed the evening, ripping through probably 10 intricate, high-tempo songs and managing to put out a ton of energy without being cheesy. I enjoyed the hell out of them. They would be perfectly at home with Omaha/Lincoln bands like Bloodcow or the unfortunately defunct Axes to the Sky.
After their show, and using compliments as a pretence, I creeped up on four of the members who were hanging out by their van. The band's story is pretty interesting. It's been around since the mid-'90s, starting as a country punk band from San Antonio. None of the members I spoke to had played in it before 2001. Lead guitarist Leighton Mann was the sole survivor. Cycling through 23 members, Chapstick has put out three full-lengths during its sonic evolution and has toured extensively. A good example of a band surviving entirely on live shows and merch sales getting its message out through Myspace. It's not easy, but it happens.
The next band was a complete Misfits knock off (no masks for these guys) from Cleveland called Horror of 59. It was straight-up punk rock. Nothing unpredictable, but they put on a fun show. I even danced.
Death metal three-piece Superchrist closed the night, and while the crowd seemed to love them, I wasn't too into it. I finished my third goblet and we left. A cop parked immediately next to our car, we decided to take that reasonable walk home.
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