Work in a cube farm? How about a work blind?
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In which comics make points quickly
Trusted Computing Isn’t
Go watch this.
In which we get around to commenting on something obviously in our baliwick
So, Oracle will buy Seibel for an assload of money.
Big. Fat. Hairy. Deal. Honestly, to us it looks a lot like one party trying to ensure relevance in the face of rapidly encroaching open source options, and another party trying to cash in before they’re destroyed by someone more nimble.
Bru. Tal.
My attorney stopped yelling about the goddamn mescaline long enough to point out this rosy bit of football fan brutality, presumably inspired by the fact that Vandy actually beat someone this weekend. Click the pic for a full-size version.
Four Years Later
It’s been a few years, Ground Zero is still empty, 3,000 people are still dead, and Osama Bin Laden is still uncaptured. We did, on the other hand, start a whole DIFFERENT war someplace else in lieu of, you know, focussing on actually catching the bastard. We reckon ought to be more forgiving on this, as it’s not like Bush vowed to capture this murdering freak dead or alive, right?
The NYT had a piece yesterday about losing OBL in Tora Bora. Read it. (Local PDF.)
Dang.
Blues legend Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown died yesterday in his hometown of Orange, Texas, where he’d gone to escape Katrina. He was 81.
NYT on Gretna
Let’s hope this gets some traction; it’s simply unacceptable that American law enforcement behaved in this manner. This goes well beyond simply failing to render aid. (Local PDF copy here.)
The paramedics and two other witnesses said officers sometimes shot guns over the heads of fleeing people, who, instead of complying immediately with orders to leave the bridge, pleaded to be let through, the paramedics and two other witnesses said. The witnesses said they had been told by the New Orleans police to cross that same bridge because buses were waiting for them there. Instead, a suburban police officer angrily ordered about 200 people to abandon an encampment between the highways near the bridge. The officer then confiscated their food and water, the four witnesses said. The incidents took place in the first days after the storm last week, they said.
This won’t last long
We are, as of this moment, caught up on Thank-You notes.
In which we Bush uses Katrina as an opportunity for Federal giveaways to corporate interests
Bush has suspended the Davis-Bacon Act, which mandates that contractors for Federal projects pay their workers the “prevailing local wage” or better. This typically keeps the Halliburtons of the world from dragging in cheap labor from elsewhere rather than pay local labor their normal wages.
The NYT has already weighed in; we duplicate their editorial here because the Powers That Be at NYT are notoriously stupid in re: archive access:
A Shameful Proclamation Published: September 10, 2005 On Thursday, President Bush issued a proclamation suspending the law that requires employers to pay the locally prevailing wage to construction workers on federally financed projects. The suspension applies to parts of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Florida. By any standard of human decency, condemning many already poor and now bereft people to subpar wages — thus perpetuating their poverty — is unacceptable. It is also bad for the economy. Without the law, called the Davis-Bacon Act, contractors will be able to pay less, but they’ll also get less, as lower wages invariably mean lower productivity. The ostensible rationale for suspending the law is to reduce taxpayers’ costs. Does Mr. Bush really believe it is the will of the American people to deny the prevailing wage to construction workers in New Orleans, Biloxi and other hard-hit areas? Besides, the proclamation doesn’t require contractors to pass on the savings they will get by cutting wages from current low levels. Around New Orleans, the prevailing hourly wage for a truck driver working on a levee is $9.04; for an electrician, it’s $14.30. Republicans have long been trying to repeal the prevailing wage law on the grounds that the regulations are expensive and bureaucratic; weakening it was even part of the Republican Party platform in 1996 and 2000. Now, in a time of searing need, the party wants to achieve by fiat what it couldn’t achieve through the normal democratic process. In a letter this week to Mr. Bush urging him to suspend the law, 35 Republican representatives noted approvingly that Presidents Franklin Roosevelt, Richard Nixon and the elder George Bush had all suspended the law during “emergencies.” For the record, Mr. Roosevelt suspended it for two weeks in 1934, to make time to clear up contradictions between it and another law. Mr. Nixon suspended it for six weeks in 1971 as part of his misbegotten attempt to control spiraling inflation. And Mr. Bush did so after Hurricane Andrew in 1992, two weeks before he was defeated by Bill Clinton, who quickly reinstated it after assuming the presidency. If Mr. Bush does not rescind his proclamation voluntarily, Congress should pass a law forcing him to do so.
Red Cross OUT. Blackwater IN.
No, seriously, that’s how it is in New Orleans: Red Cross is banned, but private mercenaries are patrolling.
Our Hero
The Cheney-Curser has been unmasked! He’s a Gulfport ER doctor with no love for this administration (clearly). After his comment the other day, some MPs came to visit, and probably would have hauled him off had the media not been on hand:
As he stood about 10 feet away from Cheney and his friend and some camera operators from CNN and other media filmed the scene, Marble suddenly yelled, “Go fuck yourself, Mr. Cheney! Go fuck yourself, you asshole!” Hey, at least Marble was polite. After all, he referred to Cheney as “Mr. Cheney.” “I had no intention of harming anyone but merely wanted to echo Mr. Cheney’s infamous words back at him,” Marble wrote. “At that moment, I noticed the Secret Service guys with a panic-stricken look on their faces, like they were about to tackle me, so I calmly walked away back to my former house.” His friend videotaped a little bit longer and then came back to Marble’s house. As they were salvaging a few things from Marble’s home, two military police waving M-16s showed up and said they were looking for someone who fit Marble’s description who had cursed at Cheney. “I told them I was probably the person they were looking for, and so they put me in handcuffs and ‘detained’ me for about 20 minutes or so,” Marble wrote. “My right thumb went numb because the cuffs were on so tight, but they were fairly courteous and eventually released me after getting all my contact info. They said I had NOT broken any laws so I was free to go.”
Holy Crap: Media Grows Balls
Via BoingBoing, we learn that CNN has blocked attempts by FEMA to restrict coverage of New Orleans.
Juvenile? Certainly. But also hilarious.
Widely distributed, still cool
This large gallery of New Orleans shots from before, during, and after Katrina and the subsequent flooding is worth your time.
Yo, Frank, Snort This!
Awesome
Check out KnowThyNeighbor.org. The plan: anyone who formally signs the petition to add anti-gay-marriage language to the Massachusetts constitution will have their name and address listed on this site. (Via MeFi.)
Breaking…
ABC is reporting that Michael “Fired Horse Whisperer” Brown has been officially relieved of Katrina-related duties at FEMA, which makes us wonder what he’s going to do besides resign:
Sept. 9, 2005 — Federal Emergency Management Agency Director Michael Brown, under criticism due to his management of Hurricane Katrina as well as reported discrepancies on his resume, has been ousted from disaster relief efforts. And sources have told ABC News that Brown is also expected to be out as head of the agency very soon. Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff announced that Brown will return to Washington, D.C., and Vice Adm. Thad W. Allen of the Coast Guard will be elevated to take over Katrina recovery.
Remember all those people trapped in New Orleans?
Many were not allowed to leave and, in fact, were herded back into the squalor and danger of the city when they tried to walk to Gretna. There’s a first-hand account here; excerpt:
As we approached the bridge, armed Gretna sheriffs formed a line across the foot of the bridge. Before we were close enough to speak, they began firing their weapons over our heads. This sent the crowd fleeing in various directions. As the crowd scattered and dissipated, a few of us inched forward and managed to engage some of the sheriffs in conversation. We told them of our conversation with the police commander and of the commander’s assurances. The sheriffs informed us there were no buses waiting. The commander had lied to us to get us to move. We questioned why we couldn’t cross the bridge anyway, especially as there was little traffic on the 6-lane highway. They responded that the West Bank was not going to become New Orleans and there would be no Superdomes in their City.
See other coverage, via the first linke, at SF Chron, UPI/Moonie/Right-Wing Times (!), and St Louis Post-Dispatch.
Sue us. We like furry animals.
We are, after all, from Veterinarian stock.
Enjoy these pix of sheltered wild animals in California. Mostly, they’re big cats. Don’t miss the fact that the first two are “kitten” and “adult” shots of the same tiger. He goes from “large housecat” to “600 pounds.”
Slowly, quietly, things get worse
Lost in the shuffle of post-Katrina coverage is this: the Richmond Federal Appeals Court has ruled against Jose Padilla, overturning a lower Federal court’s ruling that he must either be charged or released. Padilla is therefore being held indefinitely as an “enemy combatant” despite being an American citizen arrested on American soil. As such, he may be detained indefinitely without access to counsel or the right to review whatever evidence incriminates him.
In other words, the Appeals Court feels that he — or any citizen — can be held forever just on the government’s say-so. This is NOT a power we want our government to have. Let’s hope the Supremes feel differently, as it’s a sure bet this will end up on their docket next.
Dept. of Last Words
Hunter Thompson’s final note was made public today:
Football Season Is Over No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun — for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax — This won’t hurt.
Overheard at lunch
“You know, this many people haven’t slept in the Astrodome since the Oilers’ last season.”
Mississippi Greets Cheney
An anonymous bystander gave Cheney a piece of his mind during a CNN photo op — echoing his comment to Sen Leahy.
Best. Screencap. EVAR.
Presented without additional comment:
Espen on ID and Textbooks
Norwegian professor Espen Andersen has a fine post up about the hoax of Intelligent Design that includes links to The Textbook League’s site. As Dr Andersen puts it, they “[leave] no stone unturned in exposing vague, fake, and feel-good pieces in text books.”
Do NOT miss Richard Feynman’s discussion of his experience judging textbooks in California. The whole process is a joke, so we have every confidence that ID will be taught in darn near every science class before too long, further eroding whatever educational advantage Americans still retain.
Face of New Orleans, brought to you by the Interdictor
The Interdictor is a former Special Forces guy who works for DirectNIC in New Orleans; since before the hurricane, he’s been blogging his status pretty frequently. From his perch, he’s seen looting, fires, and finally the arrival of real aid. Thanks to a big-ass diesel generator, his servers are still up, and they’re still on the net. It’s an interesting read (start at the beginning for a better narrative).
Add to the narrative the pictures they’re getting — like the excellent one at right, taken by DirectNIC’s CEO Sigmund Solares — and you get a pretty fine man-on-the-ground view of Katrina in NOLA. Click the picture for a full-size version.
We feel pretty.
N.B. the new tagline under the page title, which will be updated every night with a running total of posts.
Another Onion Bit We Can’t Pass Up
From their flood coverage:
Another Saints Season Ruined Before It Begins NEW ORLEANS — Front-office executives of the New Orleans Saints football team provided a much-needed dose of normalcy Monday when they announced that, for the 23rd year running, the Saints season had been ruined before it began. “I’d say this is even worse than when Mike Ditka traded away all our draft picks to get Ricky Williams,” said Saints vice president of pro-personnel operations Bill Kuharich. “But there’s one thing we Saints can always rely on: our chances for a winning season being shitcanned before we play a single down. We’re proud to have carried on with this tradition despite everything.” The National Football League has declined the Saints’ “mercy rule” request to be allowed to forfeit all their home games, saying the team must set an example for its home city by being blown out in every contest.
Things we could not make up even if we wanted to, which we do not.
From our hometown paper:
JANICE — Food was running low in this Perry County community, so the Rev. Dean Cook turned to a reliable source for help – his fellow board members with Coonhunters for Christ.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
From the Onion:
Genie Grants Scalia Strict Constructionist Interpretation Of Wish WASHINGTON, DC — A genie freed from a battered oil lamp by Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia granted the conservative jurist a strict constructionist interpretation of his wish for “a hundred billion bucks” Monday. “Sim sim salabim! Your wish is my command!” the genie proclaimed amid flashes of light and purple smoke, immediately filling the Supreme Court building with a massive herd of wild male antelopes. When Justice Scalia complained that the “bucks” had razed the U.S. Supreme Court building, trampling and killing several of his clerks and bringing traffic in the nation’s capital to a standstill for hours, the genie said, “Your honor, your wish is a sacred and unalterable document whose interpretation is not subject to the whims of society and changing social context.”
Gaaaah!
We’d be snarky if it weren’t so pathetic
FEMA flies refugees to right city, wrong state.
Wow. Just Wow.
From TPM:
On the Al Franken show this afternoon I mentioned this article from today’s Salt Lake Tribune which tells the story of about a thousand firefighters from around the country who volunteered to serve in the Katrina devastation areas. But when they arrived in Atlanta to be shipped out to various disaster zones in the region, they found out that they were going to be used as FEMA community relations specialists. And they were to spend a day in Atltanta getting training on community relations, sexual harassment awareness, et al. This of course while life and death situations were still the order of the day along a whole stretch of the Gulf Coast. It’s an article you’ve really got a to read to appreciate the full measure of folly and surreality. But the graf at the end of the piece really puts everything in perspective, and gives some sense what the Bush administration really has in mind when it talks about a crisis. The paper reports that one team finally was sent to the region …As specific orders began arriving to the firefighters in Atlanta, a team of 50 Monday morning quickly was ushered onto a flight headed for Louisiana. The crew’s first assignment: to stand beside President Bush as he tours devastated areas.You can’t make this stuff up.
People who don’t get it
In this NYT story (local PDF link) on the online gaming market, they discuss in some detail how subscriber growth has exploded in the last couple years — not so long ago, for example, half a million Everquest users was a huge number, but now World of Warcraft boasts better than twice that (come say hi; Heathen play on Silver Hand).
At the end of the article, though, after all the commentary about how the market has trended upward for years, and about how online gaming has gotten better and more accessible to the casual player, they quote a clueless analyst:
“I don’t think there are four million people in the world who really want to play online games every month,” said Michael Pachter, a research analyst for Wedbush Morgan, a securities firm. “World of Warcraft is such an exception. I frankly think it’s the buzz factor, and eventually it will come back to the mean, maybe a million subscribers.” “It may continue to grow in China,” Mr. Pachter added, “but not in Europe or the U.S. We don’t need the imaginary outlet to feel a sense of accomplishment here. It just doesn’t work in the U.S. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
No, Mr Pachter, there’s no reason anyone will ever want to hear actors talk. And we’re sure you can forsee a time when every town might have a telephone, too.
In which we point out what weasels Verisign are, again
I just got a renewal notice for Nogators.com from Register.com, Verisign’s domain registrar.
“Hrm,” I thought, “I was sure I transferred that to GoDaddy last year!” So I checked. And I did. Register.com has no hold on that domain, as they are no longer the registrar for it, and haven’t been since October of 2004. It would therefore be useless for me to renew the domain with Register.com — except, of course, to Register, who would get my payment in exchange for nothing. Furthermore, it’s trivial to discover who the registrar is for any given domain — it has to be for the Internet to function correctly. Ergo, there are two possible conclusions we may draw from this:
- Possibility A: Verisign knows they don’t have the domain anymore, but elected to send out the renewal notice anyway just in case doing so would extract additional funds from me without having to provide any service in return; or
- Possibility B: Verisign do not realize they no longer have this domain, and consequently are demonstrably so out of touch as to call into question why any educated consumer might want to do business with them.
Either way: Charming.
Art, how to feed it, and how it feeds us
On Saturday night, in addition to seeing the final performance of the final edition of Houston’s favorite musical comedy, we attended a fundraiser for Spacetaker, Houston’s best online arts resource. (Fair disclosure: we wrote the back-end code for Spacetaker, and serve informally as chief technical advisor — but we wouldn’t do that if we didn’t think it was awesome.)
The fundraiser was at the home of Lester Marks, perhaps Houston’s most prominent living art collector. His home is essentially a gallery; a huge percentage of the space is given over to art installations. A Basquiat hangs over the fireplace; a Dan Flavin installation adorns an upstairs corner. There were several Joseph Cornell boxes on the walls. That’s just the beginning.
On the wall next to the kitchen, though, were these two quotes. We think they say volumes, so we wrote them down.
First, this from Glen Gould:
The purpose of art is not the release of a momentary ejection of adrenaline but rather the gradual, lifelong construction of a state of wonder and serenity
And this, from Dominique de Menil, perhaps Houston’s all-time champion art collector:
Stored away, objects remain inert. Art of the past, like art of the present, needs attention and love to become alive. We are familiar, by now, with the famous statement of Mark Rothko: “Art lives by companionship.”
Yes. And thank God for people like Mr Marks, who have the means and the passion to patronize local and regional artists, and then open their homes for events like this. And thank God in particular for the whole idea of Art in the wake of events like those of the last week or so. Art lifts spirits, challenges ideas, fuels dreams, and reminds us of beauty and the pursuit thereof. Art enriches us all. It won’t save anyone from a Ninth Ward rooftop all by itself, but it is part of what makes any human place worth protecting and rebuilding, especially one as steeped in it as New Orleans or the Mississippi Coast.
Bring me this man’s head on a pike.
From CNN:
WASHINGTON (CNN) — Defending the U.S. government’s response to Hurricane Katrina, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff argued Saturday that government planners did not predict such a disaster ever could occur. But in fact, government officials, scientists and journalists have warned of such a scenario for years.
That was quick.
We haven’t had much of a chance to say anything about the passing of Chief Justice Rehnquist, which is good, probably, as there’s not much nice to say about a guy who fought for the causes he fought for. However, this shit just about takes the cake: remember that smiling empty suit Bush nominated to take O’Connor’s seat? The one who has only a couple years of judicial experience EVER, having spent most of his legal career a party functionary?
Yeah. Bush has nominated Roberts to be Chief Justice. Words fail me.
The TP isn’t the only one pissed off
So is Steve Gilliard. It’s a hell of a rant.
Down in NOLA, they’re a bit pissed off
With good reason. The Times-Picayune ran this open letter ripping the Feds new assholes for their slow response and continued incompetence. Other outlets are covering it as well.
How To Be Qualified To Run FEMA
Step 1: Be an estate lawyer, not someone with any emergency experience.
Step 2: Take a job running the International Arabian Horse Association.
Step 3: Be forced to resign from said job for gross supervisory failures.
Step 4: FEMA, here I come!
Jesus Wept.
Go Mayor Bill!
From the Chronicle:
Houston officials announced plans to open Reliant Center and the George R. Brown Convention Center to shelter hurricane evacuees after the Astrodome reached capacity. Mayor Bill White announced today that Reliant Center will hold up to 11,000 evacuees from Hurricane Katrina. […] “We want this exhibition hall open right now,” the mayor said. “If it entails someone suing us, then OK.,” the mayor said. “Then (they can) explain to the American public why.”
So, what’s happening NOW?
Go here, and watch the Fox (!) people on the ground slap Sean Hannity around about the situation at the convention center. Did you realize people are not being allowed to leave?
DHS will not let the Red Cross into New Orleans
In which we ponder what sort of crack he’s smoking
Bush said, on Good Morning America Thursday, that “I don’t think anyone anticipated the breach of the levees.”
This must be the same sort of “anyone” who also didn’t anticipate the notion of people using airplanes a missiles. Actually, this statement is even more absurdly false, since every study of what a Cat 5 storm would do to New Orleans included levee failure.
What a jackass.
Gridskipper checks in
As noted in a previous entry’s comments, Gridskipper editor (and longtime Heathen) Chris Mohney has a Letter to New Orleans running that you should read.
Memo to Donald Wildmon: FUCK YOU.
This didn’t take long, did it?
Whoa.
Heathen Central has just recognized Napoleon Dynamite‘s Uncle Rico as the same actor who played “genius in the steam tunnels” Lazlo Holyfeld in Real Genius.
In which we reminisce about New Orleans, and hope we get to do it some more
I grew up going to New Orleans. The very first time I ever went to New Orleans was my 6th birthday. I was obsessed at the time with “cities.” Hattiesburg didn’t count; I wanted to see tall buildings and concrete like on Sesame Street, so as a birthday surprise my parents took me to New Orleans. Mom and I took the train down, and dad followed after work a day or so later. I don’t remember a lot about the trip — I was, after all, only six — but I do have mental snapshots. Riding the streetcar with my mother, who was then only a little older than I am now. Walking down Royal and seeing all the “neat stuff” in the antique store windows with my dad. My first trip to Cafe du Monde. Feeding pigeons in Jackson Square. The zoo.
Lots of families have arbitrary markers for their kids for when they’re “grown up” — as tall as this shelf, for example. One of ours was when I was old enough to go with my parents for dinner in the Quarter. Hattiesburg’s only about 85 or 90 miles from Galatoire’s, and neither of my parents were really drinkers, so down-and-back for dinner wasn’t so absurd. I guess I was probably 12 or so before I saw the inside of that dining room, fleur de lis wallpaper and career waiters and more butter than ought to be legal — and a line outside of well-dressed folks waiting to get in. Back then, Galatoire’s had no upstairs, took no reservations, required coat and tie or “appropriate dress” for women, and accepted payment only in cash (or the rare house account). Tourists almost always asked the line “what are you guys waiting for?” I almost never heard any answer but a vague “dinner.” The tourists would shuffle off, blissfully content with Lucky Dogs and street-vendor cocktails.
Galatoire’s has been a special sort of thing for my family since before my parents even married; my grandfather used to take my grandmother there starting in the forties. She’s 90 now, and won’t be with us much longer, but on her 85th birthday my brother and I drove her down to have lunch there one Friday. I’m not sure, but I think that may be the best thing I’ve ever done for anybody — my aunt tells us that she talked about it for years.
As far as I know, 209 Bourbon is still there. God willing, it will be open again in a few months, and I’ll eat there as soon as I can.
The trips themselves are innumerable, but there are memorable ones. In 1989, there was a trip that was memorable only because we didn’t make it past Slidell. Two years later, I led another college expedition of Mike Dorman and Joy Brown for their first trip to the Big Easy. I used my upbringing well, and booked the whole thing ahead of time. We drove down and parked in the side garage entrance to the Monteleone, and then went through the whorehouse-red corridor to what is probably still one of the more impressive lobbies in the Quarter. I still remember Mike and Joy kinda gasping, but the rate was good, and there we were. I took them to Galatoire’s, and to hear real Dixieland, and we made friends with an old widower who told us stories of coming to the same bar with his new wife fifty years before. Anywhere else, the stories might’ve been maudlin, but there, that night, for some reason they just made us all smile. And drink.
Years later, Dorman and his wife Anne and I made a habit for several years of meeting in New Orleans during ALA conferences. Those were all fine, fine trips, but perhaps the most memorable of them involve a terrible faux-Goth bar in the Quarter — where, it should be noted, we were typically somewhat out of place, as we’d dressed for dinner. Anne’s sister took us there one year when our group also included my brother and his college girlfriend, and that night we saw an amusing and impromptu floorshow. Another year in the same bar, it was Mike and I at the end of an epic bender, most of which spent at a dive on St Peter being served by a bartender who insisted her name was “Shelley from Hell.” By the time we got to Goth central, I was still sipping Dixie, but Mike had graduated to tonic and lime (fortunately, he’s an amiable drunk). It was a slow night, and the bartender and I talked about obscure music while Mike pondered his fizzy water. When we left, Bourbon was empty — except for the joggers we saw as we slinked into the lobby of the Monteleone.
Still another year, our friend Sara joined the group (Frank was there that year, too) for drinks at the Columns and dinner at Galatoire’s. That night, Mike and Anne and our girlfriends turned in early, but Frank and I stayed up late drinking Johnny Walker on the upstairs balcony of the Columns.
My last trip to New Orleans, I’m ashamed to say, was nearly two years ago; I went for my friend C—‘s bachelor party. He’s from there, and his best man Chris went to law school at Tulane (in which capacity he did something I’ve always wanted to do: gone to Galatoire’s for a late lunch, and stayed with your party at the table drinking until time for dinner). You’d think having locals with us would have kept us out of the Quarter bars, but nooooo. After a fine dinner (at . . . oh, you know), we changed and headed out. First stop: Tropical Isle, home of the lethal hand grenade. C— had two, and devolved before our very eyes. Had it been any other night, or any other participant, we’d have put him to bed, but as he was the honoree, we kept him up and fed him Cokes until he re-emerged a couple hours later. C— is missing a few bars from the middle part of the evening, which is good, as in one of them he vomited into a urinal.
I could tell more stories about New Orleans, of course. So could we all. My hope and prayer, though, is that there are more happy, silly, funny stories to tell, stories that haven’t happened yet, or even stories for whom the principals are yet unborn. God save New Orleans.