Man, it's been way too long since I've gotten through a real book. I did read the Perry Bible Fellowship collection, which was great, but probably doesn't count.
I've recently shifted from the San Jose public library system to my new home, the Millbrae public library. The library is a great place, with lots of light, friendly workers, a well-laid-out collection, and best of all, a few minutes' walk from my home. However, I've needed to adjust to the vagaries of the San Mateo County library system. I've gotten spoiled from San Jose's excellent branch system, which allows you to reserve a book from any library and have them deliver it to your own for pickup. They even offer free inter-library-loan borrowing for the few titles that aren't in their system. (Of course, their affiliation with the SJSU library means that they carry an impressive array of books.)
In contrast, while the Peninsula Library System offers reciprocal borrowing, placing a hold costs 75 cents. The rational part of my brain recognizes that this is still an amazing deal compared to the cost of actually buying a book, but the rest of my brain is busy sulking. I think that over time I'll get used to this new system. One advantage is that there's much less competition for holds; for example, right now the latest Robert Jordan book "The Towers of Midnight" has only one outstanding hold in the PLS out of 16 copies; in contrast, San Jose has 10 copies and 17 holds. Were I inclined to read this fairly new book, I could get my hands on it much more quickly in my new library system. That's PROBABLY worth three quarters.
Another difference is that other people are less likely to place holds on books that I've already checked out, which means that I can keep on renewing them with impunity. Which is good - I initially checked out "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" back in September, and finally finished it this week. It's a good book, and probably would be a fairly quick read for most people, I've just been much more distracted than usual of late, and have appreciated the extra time to get it done.
So: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle! I picked up this book after stumbling across it while randomly browsing (in person) through the Millbrae library's food section. I vaguely remembered having read good things about it before, and I've lately enjoyed reading the food-oriented books by Michael Pollan, Marion Nestle, and Eric Schlosser. This seemed to be a similar work.
I think this book either kicked off or was an early entrant in the recent rash of "My Year of X" books. You know the type - first-person narratives about spending a full year living in one room, or living frugally, or not using fossil fuels, or whatever. Here, Barbara Kingsolver and her family spent a year eating as locally as they could: they moved to a farm in rural Appalachia, grew their own food, and bought what they didn't grow from nearby farmers.
The book ends up being fascinating. It's also extremely well-written. I haven't read any of Kingsolver's other books, but I'm now very inclined to check them out. She has a great voice, a wry sensibility, and a lot of intelligence that avoids showing off. She keeps things interesting, making the year sound like an adventure.
The book also includes contributions from her husband and a daughter. Steven weighs in with sidebars that cover the political dimensions of what Barbara describes, such as the role of the Farm Bill (which helps large-scale producers and not small family farmers), organic certification (a lot of organic food never gets labeled as such because small farmers don't need it and can't afford the overhead of certification), and so on. Camille ends most chapters with a collection of recipes and menus that describe how they ate, along with her own perspective on her family's meals.
There were a lot of interesting and unexpected moments in the book. The Kingsolvers are a lot less doctrinaire than I would have assumed. From the beginning, each family member is allowed to choose one food item from outside their local region that they can keep using. Steven chooses coffee; Barbara chooses "spices," which I would view as cheating. But their year includes a trip to Italy, where they sample that region's local food instead of their own, as well as a trip through the northeast United States and southern Canada. Towards the end, Kingsolver admits that they had also bought boxed macaroni and cheese, because some of her kids' friends refused to eat anything else. She doesn't view these exceptions as failures; instead, she chooses to focus on all the benefits of the majority of the time when they did eat locally. That strikes me as a very healthy attitude to take. We should encourage ourselves to eat better, and not disparage one another for failing perfection.
I was also surprised by the book's treatment of vegetarianism, veganism, and carnivorism. The Kingsolvers raise chickens and turkeys, and Barbara speaks with some affection about their animals. And yet, they eat meat, rather regularly. About halfway through the book she spends several pages giving an extremely lucid and persuasive defense of meat. Not from CAFO's - that's Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations, one of the scourges of this book - but from small-scale, low-impact farms. She approaches this not just in terms of health and justice, but also brings in her background as an evolutionary biologist. Kingsolver debunks some of the commonly cited arguments in favor of vegetarianism, including the idea that you can feed a lot more people from vegetables grown on an acre than an animal grazing on that acre. (Basically, this is true for arable farmland, but untrue for the unworkable hills and mountains where most non-CAFO livestock are raised. That makes perfect sense for me - I regularly see cows grazing in the Diablo range, and would be hard-pressed to ever find a farm that could work in that rugged terrain.) Her arguments probably won't persuade many people on this emotional issue, but I really appreciated her perspective. It also helped me understand something that I had long thought was peculiar: many people become vegetarians because of their empathy towards animals, but have very little exposure to those animals; most farmers have nearly constant exposure to animals, and seem to never become vegetarians.
Wow, that was a long bit. Anyways, that's just one of the cool parts of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I'm looking forward to reading more from Kingsolver, and I'm also looking forward to finally returning this and reading another book.
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
I'm Not Sick Of It
Television! I dig how we don't have seasons any more. New stuff drops at more or less unexpected times, and people go with the flow. Here are a few random thoughts on what I'm watching now. Each show should be treated as containing MEGA SPOILERS.
THE INCREASINGLY POOR DECISIONS OF TODD MARGARET
This is the funniest thing I've seen in years. Well, at least it's made me laugh harder than anything else. I'm not always proud of myself for laughing.
However much I might try, I can't help enjoying David Cross in everything he does. Mr. Show is still one of my all-time favorites, and his Tobias Funke was one of many brilliant aspects of Arrested Development. His standup can be abrasive, but his enemies are my enemies, so that generally works out all right.
Here, Cross is at his absolute peak. He absorbs and projects all the unpleasant aspects of unpleasant characters that he's played. And he does it all through the focused prism of contemporary British discomfort comedy. Like the original version of The Office, many scenes make you cringe, contorting in agony at the horrible things that he does.
This seems to be a relatively common character type these days: the utter incompetent. I've been trying to get a bead on David's variation. Some incompetents, like Ricky Gervais's David Brent, are utterly un-self-aware. They are completely convinced of their excellence, and cling to that belief with psychotic devotion no matter how much evidence to the contrary comes their way. Others, like Steve Carrell's Michael Scott, seem to be subconsciously aware of their defects, and constantly fight against acknowledging them; instead they put out an incredible amount of effort in an attempt to project the image they wish to have.
I think Todd Margaret is more of the latter. I'm pretty sure that there's a kernel somewhere, buried deep, deep inside him, that understands how badly he's messed everything up; yet, his higher brain won't allow him to admit any weakness, and so he plunges ever further into the void.
Wil Arnett is a hoot, too. His affect closely resembles that of Gob, but his id is so over-the-top that he makes Gob seem like a monk.
What I've been digging in the last few episodes is how it's gradually becoming clear that there's an actual story taking place here, not just a setup to a series of incredible gags. Recent example: in the last episode, Todd shows up to work, totally dejected and announcing that he'll quit. Dave tries to talk him out of it, but he's set. Then, a short while later, he gets a phone call ordering Thunder Muscle, and he decides to stay. Well... Dave was furiously texting on his mobile while he was trying to convince Todd to stay. It took a while for me to connect the dots, but it seems clear that Dave is angling to keep Todd in his position. Why? I'm sure we'll find out in the second season. My immediate guess is that he's in cahoots with the Turks, and they need him to stay around as a fall guy. Speaking of which, what ARE the Turks up to? They are so obviously terrorists, that they must actually be something else. We'll get a big reveal at some point and find out that they're actually... well, I have no idea. Can't wait to find out!
Man, the humor is all over the map on this one. The discomfort humor is a huge aspect: Todd says something incredibly inappropriate and everyone else reacts. A lot of humor is fish-out-of-water stuff, but it feels incredibly fresh. I choked during the scene where Todd tries to bribe a government official to procure a liquor license. Other humor is just out-and-out dirty... again, I'm not proud of myself for laughing, but neither can I argue with results. (Thinking here about, for example, Todd explaining how he got the cut on his forehead, or Alice's drapes for the kitchen - "Oh, that's her baby's blood.") Finally, several episodes close with go-for-broke slapstick. Watching grown men fall down and hurt themselves isn't high art, but it's a proven means for getting results.
Once again, the British smack us around when it comes to making comedy. And this time one of our own gets to share in the credit! Huzzah!
BORED TO DEATH
Okay, to be fair, there is plenty of good American comedy around. I found out about this show on NPR, caught part of it during a trip to New York (thanks, Ross!), got caught up on the first season, and now am hooked.
It's unique. Fresh. I like the voices of all the characters. They're so self-aware, and at the same time so ridiculous. The relationships are amazing. And man, this show has the best run of guest stars that I can remember.
I also get a kick out of all the pot humor. Again, I can't claim to be proud of this, but hey, if it makes me laugh, I won't complain.
THE VENTURE BROTHERS
I think this season is done? Or almost done? It's been awesome, and not just because Brock is now firmly back in the action. Even their side-shows and gimmicks are terrific. There was a great set of episodes on Hank and Dean's summer vacations. All the mythology around viceing and henching continues to pay huge dividends. We only catch a glimpse of King Gorilla, I think in two episodes this season, but it carries along an intriguing plot line that has spanned seasons. This show continues to grow more remarkable.
30 ROCK
The live show entertained me! And so have the others. I'm not as enthralled by the show as I have been before, but it consistently delivers good laughs.
DEXTER
Not so funny, huh? It's good, though. As of this moment, I think I'm enjoying Season Five more than anything since the second season. It could still turn - I had very high hopes at the start of season three, after all - but so far it's cruising along well.
Writing about this show, I'm realizing that it's really about sets of relationships. I think the strength of the show depends on how interesting those relationships are. This season has some winners and some losers.
The main one driving things for me is Dexter/Harrison. I don't think I've seen anything like it before, on television or in the movies. The combination of tenderness, affection, and raw honesty would feel completely wholesome... except that this is Dexter, and just how should we feel that he talks about his work with his infant son? Watching Dexter watch Harrison really tugs at the heartstrings. He desperately wants Harrison to escape the path that he followed; and, at the same time, he's ready to support him if he starts down it. "Did... did he just say 'die-die'?"
Dexter/Lumen: Even this far into the season, I still can't decide what to make of this one. I really like the idea, and I can't decide whether Lumen annoys me or not. It seems like they're returning to the early thrust of season 3, of finally giving Dexter a peer, an adult who can share in those very personal moments with him. But Lumen is totally different from Miguel Prado. She's vulnerable where Miguel was strong; she avenges on her own behalf where Miguel punished for a greater cause. Lurking behind all this is the fact that, well, she's a good-looking woman and Dexter recently became available. I'm very curious whether the writers go ahead and make them partner up. There was a great line in last week's episode: "This feels just like my senior prom." Good to see that Dexter is as unsure about the situation as we are.
Deb/Quin: Meh. The one nice thing about this is that Deb is driving a relationship; I've enjoyed watching her grow in confidence throughout the show's run. Still, I don't much care for Quin. It's really obvious that this relationship will explode like all of Deb's other ones. How can she stand it?
Angel/LaGuerta: Uber-meh. I really hate this subplot, they should just kill it off. Watching married people bicker isn't "edgy" or "real," it's just dull and annoying.
Oh, yeah, the actual plot: man, that Santa Muerte stuff is really over-the-top. I love it! It's hard to believe that Dexter can still shock after five seasons, but man, they've really raised the bar there.
I'm kind of surprised that the investigation into Rita's death has faded away. I'm guessing that it will come back, along with Quin's prodding and Lumen's presence, into a swirling maelstrom of complications. It seems like each season weaves a web for Dexter, and the last few episodes are devoted to him desperately trying to get out before it closes in on him.
I have a hunch that Esther and Cody are gone for good. It would be nice to see them again, though. Especially Cody.
Matthews is boring. "Blah, blah. Solve this case. Why haven't you solved it yet? Talk to the media. Don't use any resources. I'm a mean white man putting down two Latinos." I'm totally cool with having a villain within the department, but for gosh sakes, grow some stones and actually BE a villain, don't just complain about your subordinates.
I'm actually more interested in the Santa Muerte plot than what seems to be the main plot, Lumen's torturers. That may change as the season progresses. I don't see how those two could be related now, but I wouldn't mind if the writers found a way to link them.
THE WALKING DEAD
Holy cow... a zombie TV show? For real?
I thought the pilot was incredible. The second episode was good. I realized that the dialog was annoying me, and then I realized that the pilot had contained very little dialog, and now I'm worried that people will talk more and more and I'll like it less and less.
Still. That atmosphere is just amazing. I really dig that the emphasis is on the post-apocalyptic landscape; zombies are a feature of that landscape, but they don't define it. The images of a hollow Atlanta are just chilling.
Oh, and I usually don't talk (or, really, think) much about graphic effects on TV shows, but the ones here are incredibly well-done. That zombie crawling through the grass in the pilot? Ew! Awesome! The crowd scenes in Atlanta seem movie-quality. And they've consistently nailed the freshly dilapidated look of the world they've created.
Those are the highlights. I'm less devoted to the characters... but, again, we're only in the second episode, and I'm sure they'll grow on me. The main guy (sorry, I haven't learned names yet - the cop) is decent but not real expressive. The woman in the refugee camp may be my favorite so far - we don't know her story yet, or anyone's, but there are enough hints there to make her seem really interesting.
I hope this doesn't sound too macabre, but I hope that they start killing off characters. Not because I particularly dislike them (other than the racist), but because that's what you do in zombie movies. They've created great tension and fear so far, but if they want to sustain that over the run of a television show, they need to establish that people are not safe, and that will include killing (or turning) major characters.
END SHOWS
Mmmm.... I think that's it for now. I'm not currently following House; last season seemed to end on a decent note, and I figured I'd take a break for a bit. When I need my Hugh Laurie fix, it'll be nice to have a whole season to run through. Oh, and if you haven't already done so, check out "Archer" - it's really excellent.
THE INCREASINGLY POOR DECISIONS OF TODD MARGARET
This is the funniest thing I've seen in years. Well, at least it's made me laugh harder than anything else. I'm not always proud of myself for laughing.
However much I might try, I can't help enjoying David Cross in everything he does. Mr. Show is still one of my all-time favorites, and his Tobias Funke was one of many brilliant aspects of Arrested Development. His standup can be abrasive, but his enemies are my enemies, so that generally works out all right.
Here, Cross is at his absolute peak. He absorbs and projects all the unpleasant aspects of unpleasant characters that he's played. And he does it all through the focused prism of contemporary British discomfort comedy. Like the original version of The Office, many scenes make you cringe, contorting in agony at the horrible things that he does.
This seems to be a relatively common character type these days: the utter incompetent. I've been trying to get a bead on David's variation. Some incompetents, like Ricky Gervais's David Brent, are utterly un-self-aware. They are completely convinced of their excellence, and cling to that belief with psychotic devotion no matter how much evidence to the contrary comes their way. Others, like Steve Carrell's Michael Scott, seem to be subconsciously aware of their defects, and constantly fight against acknowledging them; instead they put out an incredible amount of effort in an attempt to project the image they wish to have.
I think Todd Margaret is more of the latter. I'm pretty sure that there's a kernel somewhere, buried deep, deep inside him, that understands how badly he's messed everything up; yet, his higher brain won't allow him to admit any weakness, and so he plunges ever further into the void.
Wil Arnett is a hoot, too. His affect closely resembles that of Gob, but his id is so over-the-top that he makes Gob seem like a monk.
What I've been digging in the last few episodes is how it's gradually becoming clear that there's an actual story taking place here, not just a setup to a series of incredible gags. Recent example: in the last episode, Todd shows up to work, totally dejected and announcing that he'll quit. Dave tries to talk him out of it, but he's set. Then, a short while later, he gets a phone call ordering Thunder Muscle, and he decides to stay. Well... Dave was furiously texting on his mobile while he was trying to convince Todd to stay. It took a while for me to connect the dots, but it seems clear that Dave is angling to keep Todd in his position. Why? I'm sure we'll find out in the second season. My immediate guess is that he's in cahoots with the Turks, and they need him to stay around as a fall guy. Speaking of which, what ARE the Turks up to? They are so obviously terrorists, that they must actually be something else. We'll get a big reveal at some point and find out that they're actually... well, I have no idea. Can't wait to find out!
Man, the humor is all over the map on this one. The discomfort humor is a huge aspect: Todd says something incredibly inappropriate and everyone else reacts. A lot of humor is fish-out-of-water stuff, but it feels incredibly fresh. I choked during the scene where Todd tries to bribe a government official to procure a liquor license. Other humor is just out-and-out dirty... again, I'm not proud of myself for laughing, but neither can I argue with results. (Thinking here about, for example, Todd explaining how he got the cut on his forehead, or Alice's drapes for the kitchen - "Oh, that's her baby's blood.") Finally, several episodes close with go-for-broke slapstick. Watching grown men fall down and hurt themselves isn't high art, but it's a proven means for getting results.
Once again, the British smack us around when it comes to making comedy. And this time one of our own gets to share in the credit! Huzzah!
BORED TO DEATH
Okay, to be fair, there is plenty of good American comedy around. I found out about this show on NPR, caught part of it during a trip to New York (thanks, Ross!), got caught up on the first season, and now am hooked.
It's unique. Fresh. I like the voices of all the characters. They're so self-aware, and at the same time so ridiculous. The relationships are amazing. And man, this show has the best run of guest stars that I can remember.
I also get a kick out of all the pot humor. Again, I can't claim to be proud of this, but hey, if it makes me laugh, I won't complain.
THE VENTURE BROTHERS
I think this season is done? Or almost done? It's been awesome, and not just because Brock is now firmly back in the action. Even their side-shows and gimmicks are terrific. There was a great set of episodes on Hank and Dean's summer vacations. All the mythology around viceing and henching continues to pay huge dividends. We only catch a glimpse of King Gorilla, I think in two episodes this season, but it carries along an intriguing plot line that has spanned seasons. This show continues to grow more remarkable.
30 ROCK
The live show entertained me! And so have the others. I'm not as enthralled by the show as I have been before, but it consistently delivers good laughs.
DEXTER
Not so funny, huh? It's good, though. As of this moment, I think I'm enjoying Season Five more than anything since the second season. It could still turn - I had very high hopes at the start of season three, after all - but so far it's cruising along well.
Writing about this show, I'm realizing that it's really about sets of relationships. I think the strength of the show depends on how interesting those relationships are. This season has some winners and some losers.
The main one driving things for me is Dexter/Harrison. I don't think I've seen anything like it before, on television or in the movies. The combination of tenderness, affection, and raw honesty would feel completely wholesome... except that this is Dexter, and just how should we feel that he talks about his work with his infant son? Watching Dexter watch Harrison really tugs at the heartstrings. He desperately wants Harrison to escape the path that he followed; and, at the same time, he's ready to support him if he starts down it. "Did... did he just say 'die-die'?"
Dexter/Lumen: Even this far into the season, I still can't decide what to make of this one. I really like the idea, and I can't decide whether Lumen annoys me or not. It seems like they're returning to the early thrust of season 3, of finally giving Dexter a peer, an adult who can share in those very personal moments with him. But Lumen is totally different from Miguel Prado. She's vulnerable where Miguel was strong; she avenges on her own behalf where Miguel punished for a greater cause. Lurking behind all this is the fact that, well, she's a good-looking woman and Dexter recently became available. I'm very curious whether the writers go ahead and make them partner up. There was a great line in last week's episode: "This feels just like my senior prom." Good to see that Dexter is as unsure about the situation as we are.
Deb/Quin: Meh. The one nice thing about this is that Deb is driving a relationship; I've enjoyed watching her grow in confidence throughout the show's run. Still, I don't much care for Quin. It's really obvious that this relationship will explode like all of Deb's other ones. How can she stand it?
Angel/LaGuerta: Uber-meh. I really hate this subplot, they should just kill it off. Watching married people bicker isn't "edgy" or "real," it's just dull and annoying.
Oh, yeah, the actual plot: man, that Santa Muerte stuff is really over-the-top. I love it! It's hard to believe that Dexter can still shock after five seasons, but man, they've really raised the bar there.
I'm kind of surprised that the investigation into Rita's death has faded away. I'm guessing that it will come back, along with Quin's prodding and Lumen's presence, into a swirling maelstrom of complications. It seems like each season weaves a web for Dexter, and the last few episodes are devoted to him desperately trying to get out before it closes in on him.
I have a hunch that Esther and Cody are gone for good. It would be nice to see them again, though. Especially Cody.
Matthews is boring. "Blah, blah. Solve this case. Why haven't you solved it yet? Talk to the media. Don't use any resources. I'm a mean white man putting down two Latinos." I'm totally cool with having a villain within the department, but for gosh sakes, grow some stones and actually BE a villain, don't just complain about your subordinates.
I'm actually more interested in the Santa Muerte plot than what seems to be the main plot, Lumen's torturers. That may change as the season progresses. I don't see how those two could be related now, but I wouldn't mind if the writers found a way to link them.
THE WALKING DEAD
Holy cow... a zombie TV show? For real?
I thought the pilot was incredible. The second episode was good. I realized that the dialog was annoying me, and then I realized that the pilot had contained very little dialog, and now I'm worried that people will talk more and more and I'll like it less and less.
Still. That atmosphere is just amazing. I really dig that the emphasis is on the post-apocalyptic landscape; zombies are a feature of that landscape, but they don't define it. The images of a hollow Atlanta are just chilling.
Oh, and I usually don't talk (or, really, think) much about graphic effects on TV shows, but the ones here are incredibly well-done. That zombie crawling through the grass in the pilot? Ew! Awesome! The crowd scenes in Atlanta seem movie-quality. And they've consistently nailed the freshly dilapidated look of the world they've created.
Those are the highlights. I'm less devoted to the characters... but, again, we're only in the second episode, and I'm sure they'll grow on me. The main guy (sorry, I haven't learned names yet - the cop) is decent but not real expressive. The woman in the refugee camp may be my favorite so far - we don't know her story yet, or anyone's, but there are enough hints there to make her seem really interesting.
I hope this doesn't sound too macabre, but I hope that they start killing off characters. Not because I particularly dislike them (other than the racist), but because that's what you do in zombie movies. They've created great tension and fear so far, but if they want to sustain that over the run of a television show, they need to establish that people are not safe, and that will include killing (or turning) major characters.
END SHOWS
Mmmm.... I think that's it for now. I'm not currently following House; last season seemed to end on a decent note, and I figured I'd take a break for a bit. When I need my Hugh Laurie fix, it'll be nice to have a whole season to run through. Oh, and if you haven't already done so, check out "Archer" - it's really excellent.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Full Disclosure 2010
I absolutely love voting in California elections. They're just so fascinating!
Having recently moved, I've been getting up to speed on local politics. San Mateo County isn't nearly as, um, colorful as San Francisco when it comes to local races and initiatives, but there's still plenty going on.
Without further ado, here's how I cast my secret ballot.
And that's it! Remember, election day is November 2nd, a week from Tuesday. Do like I do and research, then mail your ballot in now (have I mentioned how much I love voting in California?) so you can kick back and ignore all the political stuff for the rest of the season. Happy voting!
Having recently moved, I've been getting up to speed on local politics. San Mateo County isn't nearly as, um, colorful as San Francisco when it comes to local races and initiatives, but there's still plenty going on.
Without further ado, here's how I cast my secret ballot.
- Governor: Jerry Brown. Brown's awesome. He's intelligent, thoughtful, curious, engaging... I have no idea whether we'll get the 1970's Brown or the one who's running today, but I think we'll get the right man for the job.
- Lt. Governor: I held my nose and voted for Newsom. I was actually planning on voting for Maldonado up until a few weeks ago; I really admire his courage in breaking with his party, I tend to prefer moderates, and Newsom just rubs me the wrong way. In the debates, though, Newsom shows much better temperament and, more importantly, a stronger grasp of California's problems than Maldonado. So it goes. I kinda hope that Newsom goes back into business after this term.
- Secretary of State: Debra Bowen. A good technocrat who's fulfilled her role well and should continue to do the same.
- Controller: John Chiang. He's one of the few grown-ups in Sacramento.
- Treasurer: Bill Lockyer. Yikes, I really didn't mean to vote a straight Democratic ticket, but that's how it came out. Anyways, like Chiang, Lockyer has performed admirable well with a Legislature that seems physically incapable of passing a reasonable budget, or doing anything in a decent span of time.
- Attorney General: Kamala Harris. Harris is the only candidate who I donated to during this cycle, and she both deserves and needs it. She's in a tough race, I hope she pulls through... Attorney General is too important of an office to lose, especially in California.
- Insurance Commissioner: Pass.
- State Board of Equalization: Pass.
- U. S. Senator: Boxer. Boxer's good, but Fiorina is just awful. As much as I love Brown, I won't get too upset if Whitman beats him - she'd do a decent, not spectacular job as Governor - but if Fiorina becomes my Senator, I'll throw a fit.
- U. S. Representative: Jackie Speier. I'm a bit sad that I never got to vote for Tom Lantos. Speier seems to be doing a good job.
- State Senator: Leland Yee. I'm actually pretty irritated at Yee - voting against getting a budget done is immature. Still, that isn't a firing offense, and I've liked him otherwise.
- Assembly: Jerry Hill. I actually really like Hill; even before I moved, I was impressed at his level of engagement with his constituents, and he seems to be quite active in the Legislature.
- Judicial: Pass on all.
- Board of Supervisors: Don Horsley. He was the only high-speed rail supporter in the primary, and he has my full support now.
- Treasurer/Tax Collector: Sandie Arnott. The Lehman thing totally wasn't her fault, and she seems to be doing a good job. I'm not super invested in this race, and won't be upset if she loses, but would be happy to have that stability in the office.
- County Harbor District: Pass.
- Prop 19: Yes. (Sorry, Mom and Dad!)
- Prop 20: No. I would totally get behind this if it were done at the national level, but doing it just within California would significantly weaken us at the federal level. I'm a big fan of redistricting reform in general, but nationally, Congress is in much better shape than Sacramento.
- Prop 21: Yes. Sure, it's fiscally irresponsible, but hey: I love my parks! And they really are hurting quite badly these days. I like the idea of carving them out of the budget.
- Prop 22: Yes! California's tax system is the most Byzantine thing ever, and what's even worse is that when Sacramento can't pass a budget (which is ALWAYS), then NO city anywhere in the entire state can budget either. We just have no idea how much the state is giving or taking that year. Sacramento's fiscal irresponsibility shouldn't penalize well-run cities.
- Prop 23: No! AB32 is a national model, we need to keep those incentives in place to transform our economy.
- Prop 24: I voted "Yes," but it's kind of a wash for me... it's undoing something that got a budget passed before, and if this becomes a habit, I can see it becoming even MORE difficult to pass budgets. If that's possible.
- Prop 25: YES YES YES. The two-thirds requirement is insane. This should have happened ages ago.
- Prop 26: Heck no!
- Prop 27: Nope! Like I said, I dig redistricting reform. I'm growing more skeptical that it will be the panacea we hope for, but we need to give it a chance.
- Measure O: I was actually planning on voting Yes, but I ended up following the Daily Journal's recommendation and voting No instead. I'm really not plugged into the school system here, so I'll take their word for it this time around.
- Measure M: Uh, sure, why not?
- Measure U: Yeah. Not a big deal either way, but I can see why that would be better.
And that's it! Remember, election day is November 2nd, a week from Tuesday. Do like I do and research, then mail your ballot in now (have I mentioned how much I love voting in California?) so you can kick back and ignore all the political stuff for the rest of the season. Happy voting!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Watering Can
Another year, another Blog Action Day! And hey, this time it isn't about climate change. Yay variety! Instead, it is a slightly related topic: Water.
I never used to think about water much before I moved to California. It was just something that came out of a tap. We would sometimes talk about Lake Michigan water, as opposed to other kinds of water, but that was simply a matter of taste.
I'm now living in a part of the country where it simply doesn't rain for about six months out of the year, and most of our rain occurs during a stretch from December-February. This is a land that has rationed water use in the past, and may need to do so in the future. It's a place where all the grass turns brown during the summer. Water is a major political topic, and an incredibly complex one at that, pitching farmers, environmentalists, suburban homeowners, fishermen, power companies, and residents in the Central Valley all against one another.
The root problem is scarcity. We don't get much rain, we don't have large sources of freshwater, and so we need to manage what we have. During the rainy season, this isn't as big of a problem: local communities can collect rainwater in reservoirs and use that. To keep hydrated throughout the year, though, we rely on the snowpack in the Sierra Nevada mountain range on the eastern edge of the state. When spring comes, the snow melts, and flows in giant rivers into the Central Valley. From there... well, that's just the question. Local farmers want to use it to water their crops. Residents in Southern California want to use it to water their lawns. Fishermen want to make sure enough water remains in the river so salmon can swim back upstream to respawn. Environmentalists want to make sure that, while diverting water to other uses, the dams don't kill off endangered species like the delta smelt. San Francisco wants to make sure they get enough water to drink. And on and on.
It's pretty amazing that we can even have this argument. For almost all of human history, water was local. People would move around to follow water: nomads would move on to another oasis when their present one dried up; tribes would move their camps during the wet and dry seasons. With the invention of irrigation (thanks, Civilization!), we could move around water to suit our own needs. Now, a city could be built away from rivers with dangerous flooding, and long rows of ditches would carry water where it needed to go to water crops.
The industrialization of our society made this change even more dramatic. We can use millions of tons of concrete to build gigantic dams, with the ability to completely reverse the flow of a river. We can use locks and canals to bring ships far inland. Gigantic public works projects can create impossible cities, like Las Vegas and Los Angeles, which could not exist without carrying in hundreds of billions of gallons of water each year.
It's tempting to say that we need to stop what we're doing. California is straining at the limits of what it can achieve by shuffling around the limited water it has. Population has boomed, we've already squeezed out almost all the efficiency we can through technology changes like low-flow toilets and showers, and with the specter of climate change looming, it seems likely that we'll have less and less water to work with. People talk about California needing to downsize, to stop messing with nature, to clear out of the places that require engineering to be livable.
I understand the impulse, but I have to disagree. Probably the best example is the Central Valley itself. Without the elaborate system of canals and irrigation created by the Army Corp of Engineers, this would just be a desert. With that infrastructure, though, it's arguably the best agricultural region in the entire world, and provides the lion's share of our nations's vegetables, fruits, and nuts. It's a calculation we have to make: is the investment of water worth the result we get? I think the answer is "Yes".
We need to start getting better at asking that question, and better at picking our answers. We no longer have enough water to meet all of our needs, so we need to prioritize those needs. Is a green lawn nice? Yes. Are salmon nice? Yes. Well, suppose we can't have both. Which should we choose?
There are no easy answers. We can keep working towards future technological solutions like desalination plants and wastewater recycling, but those are incredibly expensive and may not provide a panacea. We need to have honest political discussions about what to do with the water we have. Inevitably, those discussions will become arguments, and politicians will make enemies no matter what they decide. We, as citizens, should hold our leaders accountable: they should act like adults, be truthful about the situation we face, and clearly present the tradeoffs we can make.
I never used to think about water much before I moved to California. It was just something that came out of a tap. We would sometimes talk about Lake Michigan water, as opposed to other kinds of water, but that was simply a matter of taste.
I'm now living in a part of the country where it simply doesn't rain for about six months out of the year, and most of our rain occurs during a stretch from December-February. This is a land that has rationed water use in the past, and may need to do so in the future. It's a place where all the grass turns brown during the summer. Water is a major political topic, and an incredibly complex one at that, pitching farmers, environmentalists, suburban homeowners, fishermen, power companies, and residents in the Central Valley all against one another.
The root problem is scarcity. We don't get much rain, we don't have large sources of freshwater, and so we need to manage what we have. During the rainy season, this isn't as big of a problem: local communities can collect rainwater in reservoirs and use that. To keep hydrated throughout the year, though, we rely on the snowpack in the Sierra Nevada mountain range on the eastern edge of the state. When spring comes, the snow melts, and flows in giant rivers into the Central Valley. From there... well, that's just the question. Local farmers want to use it to water their crops. Residents in Southern California want to use it to water their lawns. Fishermen want to make sure enough water remains in the river so salmon can swim back upstream to respawn. Environmentalists want to make sure that, while diverting water to other uses, the dams don't kill off endangered species like the delta smelt. San Francisco wants to make sure they get enough water to drink. And on and on.
It's pretty amazing that we can even have this argument. For almost all of human history, water was local. People would move around to follow water: nomads would move on to another oasis when their present one dried up; tribes would move their camps during the wet and dry seasons. With the invention of irrigation (thanks, Civilization!), we could move around water to suit our own needs. Now, a city could be built away from rivers with dangerous flooding, and long rows of ditches would carry water where it needed to go to water crops.
The industrialization of our society made this change even more dramatic. We can use millions of tons of concrete to build gigantic dams, with the ability to completely reverse the flow of a river. We can use locks and canals to bring ships far inland. Gigantic public works projects can create impossible cities, like Las Vegas and Los Angeles, which could not exist without carrying in hundreds of billions of gallons of water each year.
It's tempting to say that we need to stop what we're doing. California is straining at the limits of what it can achieve by shuffling around the limited water it has. Population has boomed, we've already squeezed out almost all the efficiency we can through technology changes like low-flow toilets and showers, and with the specter of climate change looming, it seems likely that we'll have less and less water to work with. People talk about California needing to downsize, to stop messing with nature, to clear out of the places that require engineering to be livable.
I understand the impulse, but I have to disagree. Probably the best example is the Central Valley itself. Without the elaborate system of canals and irrigation created by the Army Corp of Engineers, this would just be a desert. With that infrastructure, though, it's arguably the best agricultural region in the entire world, and provides the lion's share of our nations's vegetables, fruits, and nuts. It's a calculation we have to make: is the investment of water worth the result we get? I think the answer is "Yes".
We need to start getting better at asking that question, and better at picking our answers. We no longer have enough water to meet all of our needs, so we need to prioritize those needs. Is a green lawn nice? Yes. Are salmon nice? Yes. Well, suppose we can't have both. Which should we choose?
There are no easy answers. We can keep working towards future technological solutions like desalination plants and wastewater recycling, but those are incredibly expensive and may not provide a panacea. We need to have honest political discussions about what to do with the water we have. Inevitably, those discussions will become arguments, and politicians will make enemies no matter what they decide. We, as citizens, should hold our leaders accountable: they should act like adults, be truthful about the situation we face, and clearly present the tradeoffs we can make.
Friday, October 01, 2010
Made Men
Let me get this off my chest first: No, I have no idea whether Cory Doctorow and E. L. Doctorow are related. As I'm writing this, I have no Internet connection, and won't remember to look it up before I post.
Anyways.
I've been vaguely aware of Cory Doctorow for years now, while not being totally sure of exactly what he does. Turns out that's because he does a bit of everything: he's a rather famous blogger, and also a novelist, and all-around tech muse. I know him best from an awesome cameo he made on XKCD a while back.
I stumbled across "Makers" in the library one day and grabbed it. I don't think it's his best-known book, though I don't know what is. I don't think he does series, so it's probably fine to tackle them in any order.
That said, I get the feeling that his books are probably most enjoyable early on. Makers is a little bit like Halting State in that it's a sci-fi book that's set only a few years in the future. It was written in... 2008, I think? - and starts sometime during this decade. The whole course of the book spans several decades, and it's pretty self-consciously proud that nearly all of the raw technology in the book exists today. The Makers aren't creating new substances; they're arranging existing substances in ways that people haven't thought of before.
MINI SPOILERS
Makers starts out as a huge love letter to the Maker movement, as exemplified in Make Magazine and the Maker Faire. I think they're most popular here in the Bay Area, but have a national presence. Makers construct physical, tech-savvy do-it-yourself projects, which tend to be fun or quirky, occasionally filling a useful niche. The physical products of makers look like something from a science fair, Jerry Lewis movie, or mad scientist's lab. The ethos and spirit of the movement, though, draws pretty directly from the open source software movement. Makers aren't proprietary or out to make a buck; they build on what others have done, inspire one another, publish all their designs, and continually improve on them.
The Makers in this book are Perry and Lester, a classical geek duo. Perry is more charismatic and social; Lester is brilliant, huge, and more shy. Or at least they start that way. This is a big book, that spans many years and events, and their personalities also shift as they grow older.
Although Perry and Lester are the main characters, we don't meet them for a while. The book starts out with Suzanne, a reporter for the San Jose Mercury News. Let me stop here and say that I'm just amazed at how well Doctorow captures everything about the Bay Area: he totally nails everything, from our media to our geography to the culture to the companies to the food to the people. He doesn't really flog it, but his easy mastery of the topic is impressive: he'll casually describe Suzanne's drive up 280, and I'll think, "I KNOW that spot he's talking about!", and he'll describe her house, and I'll think, "I've SEEN houses like hers!," and he'll talk about how she got the house, and I'll think, "Wow, everyone I know who has a house got theirs the same way!"
It's all so good that I got a little sad when the action shifted to Florida, where Lester and Perry are based. Doctorow is probably just as accurate with that region as he is with the Bay Area, but I don't know it as well, so I can't appreciate it as much; plus, strip malls and shantytowns don't do much for me, whether they're accurately rendered or not.
Like I said before, the book is huge. It's divided into three sections, but the second and third are rather contiguous. The first part is the most fun: it's a straight-out, full-on optimistic geek-fest, all about excited people building cool stuff. Doctorow has some amazing stuff in here, as he trots out nifty inventions that are totally possible today. Some of these are incredibly useful; one of the best ideas is a two-compartment dishwasher, so you can load dirty dishes in one side before unloading the clean dishes in the other. (At my office, this would save me all kinds of distress.) There's also the universal organizer: tag everything with RFID, and place everything in receptacles. Then, whenever you need ANYTHING, just say its name, and the receptacle glows.
Other inventions are useless and fun. The most vivid is the Boogie Woogie Elmo Mobile. This takes a collection of cast-off animatronic Elmo dolls, and then networks them: not via wifi or bluetooth, but via voice. The Elmo dolls call out to each other, watch what they are doing, and then work together to drive a golf cart around. Doctorow describes this so well that you can hardly keep from laughing. Other awesome inventions include analog computers, such as one that accepts barbie doll heads, performs mathematical operations, and then dispenses the answer as a quantity of brown M&Ms.
Ooh, speaking of M&Ms... one of the most refreshing aspects of this book is how confidently Doctorow uses trademarks and company names. Very few authors have the guts to do this. Part of it may be out of a fear of litigation, but it's also considered very bad form: when I took a fiction writing class back in college, my professor only had two rules for us: don't use weather to establish a mood, and don't include any brand names. Well, here, it totally works. This starts out as a book about making stuff, but it's largely about companies and products and competition, and especially since it's set in the near-future, it wouldn't be at all believable if it skimped out on the brands.
And so we have them. Not just named, but also judged. In the first few pages, we learn that Kodak and Duracell have been hostilely taken over, due to their slumping stock price and inability to innovate. Yahoo! is dismissed near the end of the book as a forgotten company. And, starting in the second section of the book, Disney emerges as the primary villain. This is delicious - Disney is infamous among copyright-reform folks for their single-handed chokehold on intellectual property laws in the United States. Disney is a bit different here - the company has been taken over and then split apart into independent corporations, including Disney Products and Disney Parks.
The second section of the book opens after the Maker movement (described here as New Work, which I kept mis-reading as New York) falls apart. I never totally got the reason why - the money dries up, which is fine, but people were making stuff before they got any money, and it seems weird that they would stop. I get the impression that people got fed up with the stuff people were creating, which, again, seems weird... it reminds me of the old saw about the Patent Office head declaring that all useful inventions had already been created.
The second and third sections of the book follow a more conventional narrative drive. There wasn't really a villain in the first part, although there was some conflict and some unpleasant personalities. The latter part of the book starts in a state of subdued depression: the economy's in a funk, people aren't inventing stuff, etc. It largely chronicles Lester and Perry's resurgence, building on the ashes of the New Work movement, and in the process creating The Ride, a sort of physical wiki. The Ride becomes a cultural phenomenon, which drives certain elements at Disney crazy, and hence is the conflict born.
This part of the book also widens the scope of characters a lot. The first section was almost all Suzanne; when we see Lester and Perry, it's usually through her eyes. Here, we get more people in their own voices: Lester and Perry, and also Sammy (a ladder-climbing Disney executive), Death Waits (a goth kid who is fired from Disney Parks and becomes a fervent believer in The Ride), Suzanne again (now remade as a European sophisticate), and more. I think my favorite here was Kettlewell, the Silicon Valley millionaire who got New Work rolling in the first part of the book. Kettlewell was always a fun, exuberant presence, but you never really got a feel for what made him tick. Now, you can follow things from his perspective, and his character really deepens as a result.
It's harder to like the second part of the book, but I think that's part of the point. There are very strong analogies with the dot-com boom and bust here: the huge sense of optimism and exuberance, followed by the crushing defeat and malaise, followed by tentative steps at rebuilding and, eventually, surpassing what came before. I don't think that Makers is an analogy of the dot-com boom; rather, Doctorow sees it as part of the natural order of business and society. We shoot for the stars, we get shot down, we rebuild and try something else, something better.
END SPOILERS
So, now that that's done, all I need to do is find myself an E. L. Doctorow book and start reading that. Somehow I doubt I'll find as many robots and 3D Printers in there, but it should still be a good time.
Anyways.
I've been vaguely aware of Cory Doctorow for years now, while not being totally sure of exactly what he does. Turns out that's because he does a bit of everything: he's a rather famous blogger, and also a novelist, and all-around tech muse. I know him best from an awesome cameo he made on XKCD a while back.
I stumbled across "Makers" in the library one day and grabbed it. I don't think it's his best-known book, though I don't know what is. I don't think he does series, so it's probably fine to tackle them in any order.
That said, I get the feeling that his books are probably most enjoyable early on. Makers is a little bit like Halting State in that it's a sci-fi book that's set only a few years in the future. It was written in... 2008, I think? - and starts sometime during this decade. The whole course of the book spans several decades, and it's pretty self-consciously proud that nearly all of the raw technology in the book exists today. The Makers aren't creating new substances; they're arranging existing substances in ways that people haven't thought of before.
MINI SPOILERS
Makers starts out as a huge love letter to the Maker movement, as exemplified in Make Magazine and the Maker Faire. I think they're most popular here in the Bay Area, but have a national presence. Makers construct physical, tech-savvy do-it-yourself projects, which tend to be fun or quirky, occasionally filling a useful niche. The physical products of makers look like something from a science fair, Jerry Lewis movie, or mad scientist's lab. The ethos and spirit of the movement, though, draws pretty directly from the open source software movement. Makers aren't proprietary or out to make a buck; they build on what others have done, inspire one another, publish all their designs, and continually improve on them.
The Makers in this book are Perry and Lester, a classical geek duo. Perry is more charismatic and social; Lester is brilliant, huge, and more shy. Or at least they start that way. This is a big book, that spans many years and events, and their personalities also shift as they grow older.
Although Perry and Lester are the main characters, we don't meet them for a while. The book starts out with Suzanne, a reporter for the San Jose Mercury News. Let me stop here and say that I'm just amazed at how well Doctorow captures everything about the Bay Area: he totally nails everything, from our media to our geography to the culture to the companies to the food to the people. He doesn't really flog it, but his easy mastery of the topic is impressive: he'll casually describe Suzanne's drive up 280, and I'll think, "I KNOW that spot he's talking about!", and he'll describe her house, and I'll think, "I've SEEN houses like hers!," and he'll talk about how she got the house, and I'll think, "Wow, everyone I know who has a house got theirs the same way!"
It's all so good that I got a little sad when the action shifted to Florida, where Lester and Perry are based. Doctorow is probably just as accurate with that region as he is with the Bay Area, but I don't know it as well, so I can't appreciate it as much; plus, strip malls and shantytowns don't do much for me, whether they're accurately rendered or not.
Like I said before, the book is huge. It's divided into three sections, but the second and third are rather contiguous. The first part is the most fun: it's a straight-out, full-on optimistic geek-fest, all about excited people building cool stuff. Doctorow has some amazing stuff in here, as he trots out nifty inventions that are totally possible today. Some of these are incredibly useful; one of the best ideas is a two-compartment dishwasher, so you can load dirty dishes in one side before unloading the clean dishes in the other. (At my office, this would save me all kinds of distress.) There's also the universal organizer: tag everything with RFID, and place everything in receptacles. Then, whenever you need ANYTHING, just say its name, and the receptacle glows.
Other inventions are useless and fun. The most vivid is the Boogie Woogie Elmo Mobile. This takes a collection of cast-off animatronic Elmo dolls, and then networks them: not via wifi or bluetooth, but via voice. The Elmo dolls call out to each other, watch what they are doing, and then work together to drive a golf cart around. Doctorow describes this so well that you can hardly keep from laughing. Other awesome inventions include analog computers, such as one that accepts barbie doll heads, performs mathematical operations, and then dispenses the answer as a quantity of brown M&Ms.
Ooh, speaking of M&Ms... one of the most refreshing aspects of this book is how confidently Doctorow uses trademarks and company names. Very few authors have the guts to do this. Part of it may be out of a fear of litigation, but it's also considered very bad form: when I took a fiction writing class back in college, my professor only had two rules for us: don't use weather to establish a mood, and don't include any brand names. Well, here, it totally works. This starts out as a book about making stuff, but it's largely about companies and products and competition, and especially since it's set in the near-future, it wouldn't be at all believable if it skimped out on the brands.
And so we have them. Not just named, but also judged. In the first few pages, we learn that Kodak and Duracell have been hostilely taken over, due to their slumping stock price and inability to innovate. Yahoo! is dismissed near the end of the book as a forgotten company. And, starting in the second section of the book, Disney emerges as the primary villain. This is delicious - Disney is infamous among copyright-reform folks for their single-handed chokehold on intellectual property laws in the United States. Disney is a bit different here - the company has been taken over and then split apart into independent corporations, including Disney Products and Disney Parks.
The second section of the book opens after the Maker movement (described here as New Work, which I kept mis-reading as New York) falls apart. I never totally got the reason why - the money dries up, which is fine, but people were making stuff before they got any money, and it seems weird that they would stop. I get the impression that people got fed up with the stuff people were creating, which, again, seems weird... it reminds me of the old saw about the Patent Office head declaring that all useful inventions had already been created.
The second and third sections of the book follow a more conventional narrative drive. There wasn't really a villain in the first part, although there was some conflict and some unpleasant personalities. The latter part of the book starts in a state of subdued depression: the economy's in a funk, people aren't inventing stuff, etc. It largely chronicles Lester and Perry's resurgence, building on the ashes of the New Work movement, and in the process creating The Ride, a sort of physical wiki. The Ride becomes a cultural phenomenon, which drives certain elements at Disney crazy, and hence is the conflict born.
This part of the book also widens the scope of characters a lot. The first section was almost all Suzanne; when we see Lester and Perry, it's usually through her eyes. Here, we get more people in their own voices: Lester and Perry, and also Sammy (a ladder-climbing Disney executive), Death Waits (a goth kid who is fired from Disney Parks and becomes a fervent believer in The Ride), Suzanne again (now remade as a European sophisticate), and more. I think my favorite here was Kettlewell, the Silicon Valley millionaire who got New Work rolling in the first part of the book. Kettlewell was always a fun, exuberant presence, but you never really got a feel for what made him tick. Now, you can follow things from his perspective, and his character really deepens as a result.
It's harder to like the second part of the book, but I think that's part of the point. There are very strong analogies with the dot-com boom and bust here: the huge sense of optimism and exuberance, followed by the crushing defeat and malaise, followed by tentative steps at rebuilding and, eventually, surpassing what came before. I don't think that Makers is an analogy of the dot-com boom; rather, Doctorow sees it as part of the natural order of business and society. We shoot for the stars, we get shot down, we rebuild and try something else, something better.
END SPOILERS
So, now that that's done, all I need to do is find myself an E. L. Doctorow book and start reading that. Somehow I doubt I'll find as many robots and 3D Printers in there, but it should still be a good time.
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