I Love a Parade

One of the great things about my lifestyle is that every time my favorite sports teams win a world championship, I can drop everything and go to the parade. EVERY TIME. What I'm getting at here is that I was in Philadelphia Friday with 1 million to 2.5 million fellow fans, screaming like a girl as my favorite team rode past on floats. It was fun! Some notes:

• City officials begged everyone to take public transportation. Me and my dad got on a light rail line at 8:33 with about 15 stops to Center City. After the fourth stop or so they couldn't get anyone else on the train, and we passed a lot of platforms filled with angry people in Phillies gear (that might be a redundant description). Apparently, on the next train, the cars were full with 14 stops to go. Thousands of people in Delaware County wanting to go to the area's first big victory parade in 25 years ended up standing on train platforms, because SEPTA didn't bother changing the train schedule. But don't despair kids! These things come along fairly often. Oh, wait ...
• We got downtown around 9:15, and a lot of people were already pretty drunk / drinking in public. And yet such was the good will generated by the noble World Champions, there were none of the racially motivated beatings we would so often expect from massive public drinking in Philadelphia. Hooray for sports! Dad and I walked Market Street (the start of the parade route) to City Hall, then turned down Broad Street a few blocks (where all the crazies would be); the crowds were two deep on the route when we got there and between eight and 20 deep, sidewalk permitting, when the parade started. Almost everyone was wearing some kind of Phillies gear, and a lot of it was really, really ugly World Champion shirts, the kind of shirt that you'd pay $30 for and then, two weeks later, regret buying for the rest of your life. I bought eight!
• When the truck carrying rightfielder Jayson Werth went past, he dropped his digital camera (all the players were taking shots of the crowd) and it started to fall to the street. He lunged and picked it out of the air just in time, then held it up to show the crowd, like he had just made a shoestring catch. It was awesome.
• A lady was standing next to us on the route with three teenage girls. They were drinking juice. The lady pulled out a bottle of vodka, spiked all their drinks, then started swigging straight from the bottle herself. It is so refreshing to see parents taking an interest in their children.
• Speaking of which, on the train ride home, we were stuck on a train platform for two hours, at it was jammed. In front of us were three women along with three little kids, who were having a rough go -- when you only come up to most people's waists, standing in a packed crowd isn't a great way to spend an afternoon. Every time someone would force their way through the crowd, the kids were getting body checked. One group of textbook sullen South Philly teens (no prospects, ugly, blank expression, proud of it) shoved through with a really condescending "excuse me," prompting one of the women to say, "If you knock down my kid I will beat your ass." To which a teenage girl answered: "F*** you, you fat b****!" Sometimes I miss my hometown.

And now some pictures. First up is the view looking at Broad Street, the second is the Phanatic dancing on a truck near the front of the parade. The third is the Union League on Broad Street (remember "Trading Places"?) and the last is a pretzel vendor. Enjoy the happiness.

Tags: baseball

Simple Tips For Your Next Corn Maze

Having completed two corn mazes, one successfully, I am now an Expert, and as such, here is my wisdom.

A. Follow the right-hand wall. The key to successfully navigating any maze is to follow the right-hand wall, which in this case will be made of corn. If at any point you notice the wall is not made of corn, but of moving cars, then you have successufully completed the maze and are now wandering a freeway. Should you fail to observe this rule from the start of the maze, and also the maze organizers are immoral, nefarious cads who rely on "islands," it will no longer be an effective tactic and you could end up wandering in circles. If this happens, observe rule C.

B. Trust No One. Though you have entered the maze with "friends" who are planning on going to "Applebees" with you afterwards, mazes observe no allegiance, meting out their harsh justice to all with the cold impartial manner we have come to expect from corn. Those same friends, who will lure you with promises of "Southwestern Egg Rolls," will rob you of your focus, and, should the maze experience drag on, eat you for food, in lieu of Applebees. Your best bet: at the start of the maze, curse your friends and run quickly through the nearest nearest corn wall.

C. Burn the maze as needed.

D. Walk away from things. Should you become lost, try to locate a landmark, such as an elevated platform or the flags marking the entrance. Then walk away from those things. Because mazes are windy and tricky, the only obvious way to get closer to your destination is to head in the opposite direction whenever possible. This is also a suitable philosophy for dating and professional advancement.

E. Hit children as needed. If you find annoying or misbehaving unsupervised children in the 10 to 18 age range, feel free to chase them down and beat them as needed. There is a surprising lack of of security cameras in the average corn maze, and anyone who could stop you will not be there for a while, because it's a maze.

The Party's Over

Thank god we can finally enjoy the three-month break until the 2012 campaign begins in earnest. Rest up America, you've earned it. If I'm taking anything from 2008, it's how loud some people feel the need to shout their political beliefs, and that the louder you shout, the more of a hypocrite you probably are. It's just crazy to me that anyone could willingly blame all the moral, economic or political problems in the nation on one party and completely exonerate their side (that goes for Republicans and Democrats). I can't believe how people are so willing to respond to criticism of their views simply by attacking the other side (that goes for Republicans and Democrats). I can't believe what a double-standard people have when it comes to scrutinizing candidates (again, both sides). It's also disheartening to see how few voters seem to understand the actual powers and functions of the president, the House and the Senate, and it's even more depressing to think that state and local governments have just as much impact on the average person's everyday life, but so many people don't even know who those candidates are when they go to vote.

The one thing I think everyone will take from this election: disappointment. If McCain somehow wins, it's four more years of people stubbornly refusing to believe that we have a legit president and decrying how awful America is, along with legislative paralysis. If Obama (as likely) wins, then we probably find out that the the politics of "change" are exactly like everything we've experienced over the last eight years. I've said this before -- it's not about reaching out and working together, it's about one side trying to beat the other so badly that they can dictate terms. Obama had a huge national profile and a seat in the United States Senate. Then he got to run the most lavish presidential campaign in history however he wanted. And in all those things, he's been more or less a standard Democrat. You probably won't see any significant movement on Social Security or Medicare, which are some of the most pressing issues threatening the future of our economy, and then we'll probably see even MORE massive financial obligations kicked around with health care. I hope everyone REALLY likes the wrapping paper, because we're being re-gifted right now.

Tags: politics

An Update on my Gastrointestinal Situation

Many readers expressed concern regarding my recent Faustian bargain, in which I agreed to eat cheesesteaks in exchange for Phillies World Series wins. So far, I appear to be fine, and as of yesterday my sweat is no longer yellow and oily. I appreciate your concern.

I almost blew it, though. I went ahead and had a cheesesteak before game five of the series, but since the Safeway was out of Cheez Whiz, I switched to Tostitos brand queso. It was a horrible error in judgment, and I was punished with the first suspended game in World Series history. The gods refused to resume play until all of the offending impostor cheese product was purged from my system.

Never again will I dishonor you, mighty Kraft.

Mop Up

While you get to relax on Wednesday, I get to go to my journalism gig and read profiles of all the new members of Congress. Whee! If you're looking for a common thread that unites these civic-minded people, it's blowdrying. If you're under the age of 50 and you aspire to political office, go out and get yourself a three-speed blowdryer and some high-quality brushes, and practice as much as you can. Apparently the image sells.

Whose House?

I get that Democrats can be excited for their guy, and I don't begrudge people celebrating in the streets, but I don't think gathering outside the White House and cheering "Whose house? Obama's house," or singing "Na na hey hey goodbye," is remotely appropriate. It actually spits in the face of the American democratic ideal. The White House belongs to the people. And even if you despise president Bush and are thrilled he's done, it's not like he actively worked against you, or even bore malice toward you, for the last 8 years; he isn't leaving the White House as a criminal and this isn't a sporting event. He did what he thought was right, it didn't always work out, and in January he'll observe 200 plus years of precedent and hand the keys over to the next guy without a shot being fired. And then in four or eight years Obama will do the same thing. It's one of the things that makes this country great.

Stay classy, America.

Oh, and a note to the people firing guns into the air in my neighborhood last night: we did not just elect the president of Mexico circa 1908. Please make a note of it.

Tags: baseball, presidents

Get to the Punchline

Greetings from the lost city of Atlanta! I am at the Punchline this week, pulling split duty -- Headliner Greg Fitzsimmons had a slight change of schedule, so I am headlining in his place on Thursday and Sunday. If you show up for the show, and you're disappointed not to see, Greg, deal with it. I want to be the starting third baseman for the Phillies. We all have our disappointments.

This is my first time at the Punchline, and I like it. It's not new and fancy, but instead it's covered with wood paneling, so it's like you're watching a show in your parents' basement! Only you can't steal beer from the Punchline and it would probably be bad form if you tried to get under your girlfriend's bra while the show is going on.

It's Wafer Thin

Take this, from the shelf next to the Saltines, and eat it ...

Me and a guy in the Punchline office were watching History Channel before the show, and there was a special about breadmaking. They were focusing on religious-themed bread, and there was footage of eucharist wafers being made in a factory environment.

I'd like to think that the Body of Christ is, at the very least, homemade. Can you taste the difference? "Oh, this is the store-bought Body of Christ. And is that the screw-top Blood of Christ? Man, this church has gone downhill."

This is Pretty Good

Onion print stories can be bit stale ... like my brother Dave has noted, you basically have the whole joke after the headline and the first paragraph. The rest is just filler, like an inverted pyramid of humor.

That said, their audio and video dispatches have been great lately. There production values are great and nothing drags on. Watch this one about obsessive Obama supporters. And click around -- they're all pretty funny (though the Barbara Bush one just seems mean-spirited for no particular reason. Why go after the Silver Fox?).

Tags: shows, politics

King For a Day

As part of my continuing quest to become America's Tour Guide, I rolled out of bed bright and early today (11:12 a.m.) and headed to downtown Atlana for the Martin Luther King Jr. Historic Site. I'm actually kind of glad I put it off until this visit until this week: all the pictures of angry white people turning firehoses on peaceful protesters give a little perspective to the pictures of black crowds celebrating in the streets Tuesday night. Also, because it meant there was still a free attraction in Atlanta that I hadn't tried yet, and as you may have heard I am cheap.

You can't get a full appreciation of King's story without visiting Alabama, but since that would involve actually going to Alabama, the historic site is an excellent Plan B. Right now, the focal point is his birth home, an upper-middle class house that would have been crammed with his parents, siblings, grandparents and some aunts and uncles. It's restored to 1930s condition, and if anything, it's ... plain. Everything about it. The outside, the inside, the stories about him as a kid (torturing his sister, playing baseball, hiding from chores). He lived on a street with mansions and working-class homes, and the King household was smack in the middle.

Some of his prominence seems to have been a case of "right place, right time" -- he was working in Montgomery at the time of the bus boycotts and became its leader, vaulting him to a national stage. You do get some hints about where the legend began, though. The parents were iron disciplinarians; if they told you to do something, you did it. His dad insisted on family meals together, and before the meal he made all the kids recite Bible passages every night (Martin had a great memory). Dad let the kids join in dinner table discussions. Every male member of the family who lived in that house was or eventually became a minister; every woman became a teacher.

Just down the hill is Ebenezer Baptist Church, where Martin King Sr. (and later Jr.) worked; it's closed for repairs but it's still cool to see. And King is now buried in between the house and the church, in the middle of a fountain with Coretta:

The museums ain't bad ... there's a pretty decent timeline-style display that walks you through the highlights of King's career, right up to the assassination; there's another building that has some personal effects, like his tattered personal Bible, his travel bag (he gave more than 400 speeches a year at points in his career), his Nobel prize, and the motel key for his room in Memphis. Right now, there's a really striking exhibit which has his funeral cart and a series of photographs that cover the shooting and his funeral procession. You could study the faces in those pictures for hours.

There is a bit of a whitewash (which is odd for the Park Service) -- you don't get any really serious detail in on his personal life (flattering or unflattering), or much of an idea about what the guy was like away from the public eye.But on the other hand, he didn't get to spend much time out of the public eye from 1955 until his death. As far as moving America forward, the public figure is all that really mattered.

The one thing I'm wondering as I type this is what would have become of Martin Luther King had he lived. By 1968 a lot of people were getting turned off to nonviolent protest and more radical elements were grabbing headlines; when he was shot he was starting to push hard for anti-poverty programs (across all races) where the lines of right and wrong aren't quite as defined as in the civil rights struggle. My impression is that it was getting harder to push public opinion in the late 60s; society was just having a hard time digesting all the change and turmoil fast enough. He seemed to be coming up on a crossroads at the time of his death. It would be fascinating to know what he'd say about American society today, what needs fixing, and how to go about it ...

Yet another strong case for time travel. Someone please get on that.

Oh, and the eternal flame at his grave was out. Someone work on that, too.

There's No There There

King's house is about three blocks from Oakland, which is a very nice spot in downtown Atlanta where they store dead people. I know my readers like to be kept up on the latest in cemetery news, and so: NEWS FLASH! Margaret Mitchell has Gone With the Worms.

Mitchell is what we would call a "one-hit wonder" of the literary world, in that she won the Pulitzer Prize for her work, then did nothing else, and then died. I think VH1 should dedicate a few hours to this, including such luminaries as Harper Lee, and Anne Frank. Yes, I know that's in poor taste.

Meanwhile, in sports, Bobby Jones has made a hole in one.

Those are golf balls laid at the base of his grave. Some had writing on them, including one that said "Hit Straight in Heaven Bobby." This would make sense to me if Bobby Jones had died last week, but he died in 1971, which calendar experts will note is significantly before last week. I'm pretty sure that if he's at the 19th Hole in the sky, he's not checking messages at this point. Also, I was sort of hoping his grave would be a putting green with one of those special mini-golf holes where you don't get your ball back placed right in front of the headstone. But that's probably why I'm not a funeral director.

You Gotta Know When to Fold 'Em

Tags: history, graves

Oh, Smack

Last night I was watching Greg Fitzsimmons perform at the Punchline (he's very good). The first 30 minutes, everything was great. Then, a young, jet-setting white-trash couple the next table over decided to start making out. The guy definitely had some boob-grabbing going on, and every time they kissed it was one of those really wet, smacking kisses, loud enough to be audible throughout the whole room. The sound made focusing on the show impossible. It's like watching someone clip their toenails on subway car: you don't want to watch the horror, but as you're reading your book all you can hear is the clipping, which gives you a perfect mental image of what you aren't looking at. (This actually happened.)

The odd thing in these situations is that NO ONE wants to tell the offending parties to stop. This included the friends of the make-out couple, who were SITTING AT THE SAME TABLE. I cannot imagine a bond of friendship strong enough to survive that, even if lots of alcohol was involved. Why does no one speak up? I think the general idea is: if these people are big enough ***holes to try this stuff, they will definitely not hesitate to yell at me when I ask them to stop. Therefore, even though I am trying to do the whole room a favor, I will be the person who suffers.

This is where crotchety old people come in handy. If you're old, then the odds of someone trying to physically assault you are pretty low; even yelling at an old person makes you look like such a jerk that it's hard to pull the trigger. They can step into that situation, mumble something about the 1950s and then demand some respect. Sadly, there were no crotchety old people present. Businesses should have a policy of comping out the crotchety, to get them out of their dark apartments and into the streets, where they can still serve a useful function as decency's police force.

The only possible drawback: if we empower and embolden the crotchety too far, and they decide to start making out and clipping their toenails in public, no force on earth could stop them. At that point, god have mercy on our souls.

Also, I just looked up a precise definition, and I'm sad to say that "crotchety" does not mean "having the charecteristics of a crotch." FYI.

Tags: white trash

Seattle Slew

After I wrap up business here in Atlanta tonight, I drive home to Washington tomorrow, and then by 1 p.m. PST on Tuesday I'll be in Seattle. So no updates until Wednesday, most likely.

Thanks to everyone who has wished me well in the contest. Here's hoping it's a three-week trip!

Tags: Seattle

Airport!

Hello from Seattle! I did lots of great travel today, and everything went very well, but since this is a blog I am obligated by law to complain about things like I am the only person they happen to. So here we go!

• There's a big kiosk for Rosetta Stone software in Dulles Airport. I'm not a linguistics expert, but I'm pretty sure that if you don't know the language before you get to the airport, it's too late. You'd need at least two really long layovers for conversational fluency.
• For this bullet, I'm in Midway Airport at 7:46 Chicago time, and I am happy to report further evidence of my theory that airports are the Ugliest Places On Earth. Bad lighting + people wearing "travel outfits" + eating greasy food + hauling heavy bags = ugly convention. Myself included.
• What did people do in airports before laptops, iPods and cell phones? Have friendly conversations with strangers from around the world? Yikes. There is at least some good listening today, as the guy behind me is updating his friends and employers via cell phone on his recent trip to West Virginia, in which his baby mama (and apparently now ex-girlfriend) called the cops on him and accused him of sexual assault. His tale included the line, "All I'm guilty of is being a man in America." I sort of want to get his number so I can find out how the story ends. I also think Tim McGraw could make a good song out of this.
• Southwest Airlines was mostly on their game today. The landing in Seattle was the best plane landing I've ever experienced. No joke. You could hardly feel the plane touch the ground. And as we taxied down the runway, a herd of unicorns galloped down a rainbow and serenaded us all with the hits of 1960s. Also, during the flight a man in my row asked a stewardess for a magazine. Her immediate answer: "What kind of magazine do you like? Smut?" The only marks against Southwest go to the guy transferring baggage at Midway. I could see him loading stuff on to the conveyor belt leading to the cargo hold from my window, and he either threw the bags onto the belt (missing several times) or physically slammed them on the belt (always with the soft top of the suitcase facing down). I am glad I chose against packing my lucky porcelain doll collection.
• My rental car is some kind of a Dodge, and while I chose the cheapest option, I am still expecting this thing to dissolve in the rain. It has no power ANYTHING ... locks, windows. It doesn't have an engine. There are two holes cut in the floorboard for my feet. There's a sticker on the window indicating the car has an anti-theft device, but I think the car itself IS an anti-theft device. Park in front of any place that you want to look cheap and not worth stealing from. Even if there is an anti-theft device on the car, it's clearly the most valuable thing on the car, and should be stolen before anyone even things about taking the car. My hotel is a Studio 6, which is the extended stay version of Motel 6. This is my first time in a Studio 6, and I am happy to report that they uphold the Motel's solid policy of offering no shampoo. I don't even have soap in my room. But again, you cannot complain when you are the one who has chosen Studio 6. Their motto, instead of "we'll leave a light on for you," should be, "You Brought This On Yourself."
• Uh, it's raining in Seattle. Why did no one inform me of this?

Tags: Seattle, travel

Gladiator

Here's your Seattle Comedy Competition update: Two days down, four to go! And if current trends hold, that will be the end of it, because both days I've finished out of the top five (in a group of fifteen). The good news is that my sophisticated and sensual style definitely helps me stand out; the bad news is that the judges so far haven't been favoring my sophisticated and sensual style. But tomorrow is another day, another venue and another set of judges ... after the halfway point, we should definitely have a good idea of if I should be moving around my travel plans.

I am happy to report that my horrendous luck with show placement has held up. The conventional wisdom for this kind of show (15 comics, plus emcee, plus guests at the end) is that you want to be somewhere in the middle -- after the crowd (including the judgegs) has warmed up, but before they get tired. I randomly drew the first slot on Tuesday and the third slot on Wednesday. The rest of the way, I have to go 12th, 13th, 2nd and 3rd. So every show I'm either in the first three slots, or the last four. I am happy to report this, because it is the feeble crutch of denial that I shall lean upon in the event of a first-week exit. Phew.

Wednesday: Hoquiam

Tonight's show was in Hoquiam, which astute observers will not is not Seattle. It's actually 120 miles from the city, right near the Pacific Ocean; the nearest town is Aberdeen, the home of Kurt Cobain (the sign going into town says "Aberdeen: Come As You Are," and thankfully not "Aberdeen: Rape Me"). We were advised to leave Seattle super duper early because (surprise) it was raining. Apparently it does that here. Huh.

Since I am cool, I left Seattle noon and stopped in Tacoma to check out the Museum of Glass. I not sure why glass art and its meccas have become an important part of my life in recent years, but I'm OK with it, in a manly and self-confident way. The museum is on the smallish side (especially for $10) but I liked what I saw. There was a kick-butt Dale Chihuly chandelier on display, a functioning glass studio where you could watch artists at work, and a pretty big introductory display of contrasting pieces to walk you through the range of glass art (opaque vs. translucent, smooth vs. not smooth, etc.). But the highlight has to be the Glass Bridge over I-5, which has a wall of Chihuly vases, a tunnel with a Chihuly ceiling, and two giant crystal towers. Check it:

It was easily the most pleasing pedestrian foot bridge that I have ever set foot on. Cheers to you, Tacoma.

From there it was on to Hoquiam, which would probably be a great and beautiful drive outside of monsoon season. I got there FOUR HOURS EARLY, which was a blessing in disguise! To kill time I stopped on a whim at Aberdeen's Popcorn Factory, a coffee shop which also serves gourmet popcorn. It was even more awesome than it sounds. In chatting with the staff, it came up that I was a comedian, and so they talked me into a special 5-minute preview of the show that night. Usually I'm a killjoy in these situations, but I've been trying to be a little more outgoing, and I'm glad I was. Afterwards they gave me a big bag of free caramel corn, and I bought a "Hoquiam Grizzlies" T-shirt to support the local high school charity program. I wore it on stage at Stiffy's, the bar where the competition was held; the shirt might have been the only thing keeping me from a last-place finish. Here's the interior:

See the drawings on the ceiling of various music stars? There were also drawings by that same artist at the Popcorn Factory. Plus the nephew of the owner of Stiffy's was one of the high school students collecting money for charity at the coffee shop. Small town fever: catch it!

Anyhow, thanks to the people of Aberdeen/Hoquiam for your hospitality, even the guy with the Robert E. Lee beard in the front row at the show who never even cracked a smile. You people are alright.

Tags: Seattle, travel

Blue Skies!

Get it on! Bang a gong! GET IT ON!

I Cover the Waterfront

I kicked off my first sunny day in Seattle by driving downtown and spending $15 for the privilege of going underground. The Seattle Underground!

The basic story here is that Seattle was founded by idiots. And not just any idiots -- cheap, money-grubbing idiots! The downtown was built on a tidal mud flat so that half the buildings sank. The constant rain and flooding left enormous potholes in the streets, to the point where they were put on maps and given names and claimed drowning victims (really). Then they built a gravity-reliant sewage system that only worked during low tide; at high tide the sewage dumped into the bay would wash back into the downtown, and pressure in the pipes would make flush toilets explode with geysers of sea water and sewage.

But then the city burned to the ground, so on their do-over ... they built in the same place. But this time, they made the buildings stone, and everything had to be at least two stories, and after a few years, they raised the roadbeds, at which point they ran out of money, so the sidewalks were 10 to 30 feet below the street, until they could get the cash together to put in new sidewalks, which meant the OLD sidewalks were now an "underground" city, where a bunch of rats bred and spread disease, until plague broke out, at which point they finally closed the whole mess for a few decades to think about what they learned.

The tour takes you into about three blocks of the Underground around Pioneer Square. It is a dank, poorly lit basement with concrete floors, rubble and brick walls. There are also crappy ruined things strewn on the floor. There is nothing particularly distinguishing about it. But it's worth the $15, because it's all about showmanship. The tour guide was really, really good; the stories are really informative and they tell a lot of jokes. For example, did you know that after the legalization of prostitution, taxes and fees on whores made 80 percent of the city's operating budget? And that Mayor Yesler would sue the city as a businessman and then, as mayor, settle out of court with himself? And that one of the most prominent founders of Seattle was a polygamist?

Mostly, go for the inspiration. The Seattle story is an tale of man triumphing over stupidity, through more stupidity. And in times like these, that's the message we need.

Hit the Pike

After the Underground it was on to Pike Place Market, which is a lot like DC's Eastern Market, only much bigger and with hippies. And they have that one fish stand where they throw fish, and every time there's a national broadcast of a Seahawks game they send a camera crew to tape it.

Sorry there's no midair fish shot, but I think I would have had to buy a large fish to guarantee such a spectacle, and I wasn't in the mood for 10 pounds of bass. Plus I don't think the Studio 6 refrigerator could contain the smell. And now, a hippie:

This guy was actually across the street at the "Sanitary Public Market," which seems to imply that some other market is less than sanitary, maybe because they were throwing fish. There were several hippies (or members of the granola tribe, or earth's second cousins twice removed, or whatever they're called these days) operating stalls or concessions. I am not sure exactly how the hippie economy works. I think the money you save on bathing, laundry, haircuts and buying new clothes makes it possible to sell T-shirts or graphic novels and still make rent. It probably doesn't hurt that you're sharing your house with 13 other people, or that your house might be made primarily of canvas or nylon. This paragraph cannot safely hold any more stereotypes, so we're done.

Those are "floaters," if I'm recalling my glass art lessons ... artistic interpretations of a tool used by Japanese fishermen. For the most part, everywhere you go, artsy-craftsy flea market stuff is the same, probably because it is all made in one gigantic warehouse in Pueblo, Colorado. I think these things have a little more Seattle flair. Neat stuff.

Thursday: Kirkland

A new low! I finished dead last because one judge gave me, out of a possible 70, an 18. Now, I can understand people not enjoying my show, but 18 out of 70 is active hatred. I cannot figure out which joke would inspire this hatred, so I'm thinking it has to be the red hair. It's racial. Also, I think that because I went 12th this time, I got to enjoy the "check drop." Whee.

So, to review: I have finished 7th, 11th, and 15th. I'm perfectly fine with how I've been performing, I haven't made any obvious flubs and I've actually done alright with the audiences. But the judges, even though they change every night, don't seem to like me at all. I think we're at the "swing for the fences" point. I can't realistically advance without finishing in the top three for the three remaining shows, so I think I'm just going to do the most high-risk jokes and have fun.

Check back tomorrow to find out how horrible my new strategy is going!

Tags: Seattle, travel

Space Cadet

My vast material wealth sometimes gets me down, so I decided to do something about it on Friday. I went to the Space Needle, where for only $16 you can get a view that can be topped only by the observation decks of five or six of the local skyscrapers. Eight tops. See for yourself:

Nice, huh? But considering that the Space Needle fees covered construction costs somewhere around 1964, it's not $16 of nice. At those rates I should be able to fire high-powered water cannons at pedestrians from the comfort of the observation deck.

The Space Needle was built in 1962 as the central attraction for the World's Fair, which had a "21st Century" theme. This is why it looks like a studio apartment from "The Jetsons." But it's iconic, so you sort of have to do it if you're in Seattle, the same way that you have to visit the Washington Monument when you go to D.C. or South of the Border when you go to South Carolina. It's the sacred code of tourism.

But I still hadn't spent enough, and they wouldn't let me ball up $20 bills and throw them off the observation deck, so I headed next door to the Experience Music Project ($15). They call it this because it's harder to sell tickets with the name "Paul Allen's Basement Lair." Now, we all know awkward nerds who revere Jimi Hendrix like a god, but most of them do not have billions in Microsoft money. Paul Allen does, and so in place of a shrine in a special closet with a red lightbulb under his stairs, he opted for a Frank Gehry-designed musuem in the middle of town. And then he also had some old action figures, so he added on a science fiction museum next door.

It's neat! Not $15 of neat, but neat. EMP has a room filled with video consoles where you can watch oral histories by a number of sci-fi and music legends, like the guy from Devo, who in his interview is still wearing a flowerpot on his head. I'm thinking he might sleep in it. It also has a lot of guitars and framed magazines which aren't really quite as exciting as, say, listening to music. I didn't really get to use the sound lab where computers teach you to use instrumets, because they were being hogged by selfish kids. And sadly there was no trombone pavillion that I could show off at, despite the huge impact of the trombone on pop and rock music. Sigh.

The Science Fiction museum is like a Planet Hollywood without the Cap'n Cruch Chicken Tenders, in that it's basically lots of movie and TV props and costumes hanging on the walls. Some exhibits are really cool; others you will be embarrassed to admit that you actually know what you're looking at ("a plastic rain coat from 'Blade Runner?' Wow!"). I think the highlight was the temporary robot exhibit. One display case has both Robby the Robot from "Forbidden Planet" and B9 from "Lost in Space," and if you wait around long enough, they have a conversation. After insulting eachother for a minute or so they make up and become friends. It's unexpected and very funny.

It was a fun afternoon and at the end of the day, I'm glad I did these things. Not $31 of glad, but glad.

Friday: Seattle

We were back in town, about two blocks from the Space Needle, for night four. I did a more adventurous, outside-the-box set, and I raced up the standings! All the way to 8th place for the evening! I think I can now officially give up, as it will take a Day the Music Died-style accident to guarantee my advancement. See you next week, DC!

Slow-motion for me

If high-speed cameras somehow became illegal, the Discovery Channel would have to cancel 90 percent of its shows. I'm thinking that the program director might actually BE a high-speed camera, or someone who might sit on the board of a high-speed camera company.

Tags: Seattle, travel

The Mountain is Out

That's what Seattleans (Seattlelites? Seattlers?) say when Mount Rainier is visible on the horizon. From Tuesday through Friday, the mountain wasn't out. On Saturday it was, and I swear to you, it looks fake. Rainier is so big, so dominating, that I can't imagine how something that imposing COULDN'T be visible all the time. I couldn't see it yesterday from the Space Needle, but with blue skies and low haze, it magically appeared. Crazy.

But the mountain I built my day around was a little bit to the south. Take the I-5 about 100 miles, then head 52 miles east down Washington 504 through all the tree farms and valleys to the Johnston Ridge Observatory, and you're on the doorstep of Mount Saint Helens. The drive is fantastic -- it reminded me of driving through parts of Ireland, only the green was mostly from pine trees, and also I was driving on the right, and also there was a volcano there.

All the facilities are closed for the season, but I was still able to walk about two miles down a boundary trail with all kinds of phenomenal views of both the volcano and the desolation below. Twenty eight years later huge swaths are still relatively barren. Have a look!

The whole experience has strengthened my resolve to never, ever, get on the bad side of a volcano. They mean business.

HBO ...

... is airing the Ricky Gervais stand-up special right now. Meh. The guy is a genius but this isn't his medium; the whole thing is sort of meandering and (gasp) run-of-the-mill. Also, I just watched "True Blood," and I can't decide if it's great or the worst show on television. It is good for playing "spot the fake Southern accent" drinking game, at least.

HBO has lost a step, except for its promotions department, which is still selling every program like "Brideshead Revisited" and "Roots" had a baby. You go, guys.

What I Learned in Seattle

I'm mathematically defeated at this point, so it's time to draw some kind of self-serving conclusion that puts this all in perspective and allows me to go on living. Here we go:

"What I do is different. That's why I get a lot of interesting opportunities, and it's also why sometimes those opportunities don't work out swimmingly. I can at least take pride in the fact that, stacked up against 14 other good comedians in Seattle (and against the vast majority of comedians working today), I am distinctive, and in the long run I think that fact will help me be a success."

Swallowing ... initializing denial ... suppressing contrary experiences ...

Done! Onward and upward!

Tags: Seattle, travel

Ladder Company

Another fine day in Seattle! This morning I had breakfast in the oh-so-trendy Queen Anne district with good college chums Chris and Stacey, and then I spent about four hours digesting that breakfast on their couch. It was a big breakfast, is what I'm getting at.

Then, on their recommendation, I stopped by the Ballard Locks. This a canal that connects Lake Washington and the fine coastal waters of Puget Sound. It has a fish ladder for running salmon, and while it is the very end of spawning season, I was hoping against the odds that at least one inept or drunk fish would make his lonely way up the ladder, desperately trying NOT to be the last guy to the orgy. That's never a good spot to be in, regardless of your species. Sad to say, Mr. Limpet was not bringing up the rear. But it's still fun to look at boats!

Also, while I was in the fish ladder viewing chamber, I got to hear a disturbing audio program in which a woman reads a series of poems written from the point of the view of the fish. I think some of them were mildly erotic, by fish standards. There was another treat for the ears in the visitor center. An automated slideshow on the history of the canal clearly had not been updated since about 1972, and the music was unbelievably awesome. Here's a sample.

From there it was a short hop to Golden Gardens, which is a beach with a marina. I mostly just took pictures and chilled out, but I also learned that whether you're on the East Coast or the West Coast, there will always be people stupid enough to feed seagulls. THEY'RE THE RATS OF THE SKY. THEY DON'T NEED YOUR HELP.

Tags: Seattle, travel

On the Beach

The last stop in the Chris White Seattle Tour 2008 was Alki Beach in West Seattle, the original landing spot for the white folks hoping to make the area home. After a season of getting pummeled by the weather, they got the hell out of there and headed to Elliot Bay, leaving only coffeeshops, quaint beach homes and rollerblading paths behind. The way the geography works out, you get maybe the best view of downtown Seattle from Alki:

The yellow truck is the original moving van the settlers used to drive around the bay. I parked somewhere near that view and then jogged around the tip of the peninsula; once you round the bend you're looking out toward Puget Sound and the ferries and islands and seals and that sort of thing. If you're going to check it out, try to do so on a day with blue skies and 60 degree weather. Speaking from experience, I think that makes it more enjoyable.

I don't know what the point is of those steps going down into the water; either there's some kind of beach to walk on when the tide goes out, or the seals in the water (I actually spotted one) need a way to get on land so they can assault townspeople for sustenance (that's how eco-conscious people are up this way). The water is perfectly clear, which I suppose is nice, but it's a far cry from the comforting, turgid brown waters of the South Jersey shore. Squint at the back of that picture with the stairs and you can pick out the Space Needle.

As for the mini-Liberty? Beats me. The plaque said something about the Boy Scouts putting it up. It's not an exact copy as much as an ugly reproduction. But it is a local landmark, and I'm sure midget immigrants entering this fine nation on our West Coast are heartened by this shining beacon of hope as they peer out of the porthole of their freighters, sitting on top of the sea chest holding their wife and four children.

Contest Wrap-Up

I guess I have a narrative imperative to finish up the tale of the comedy contest. It was impossible for me to win, and the last venue was about 90 miles to the north. I had the option of skipping the show, but that would be a chump move, so I hopped in the car and drove to Bellingham.

I'm glad I went. I was third on the show. Rich Ornelas went first, and at the end of his set (also with no chance of advancing), he took his shirt off. Jon Lincoln went second and did the same. The pressure was on, and I had nothing to lose, so I took my shirt off BEFORE I took the stage. I walked to the mic topless, said "I was told we're doing this," and then put my shirt on for the general health of all parties involved. It went over very well with the crowd, but I don't think it will become a staple of my act. For my set, I swapped out about half the material and finally seemed to hit some notes that the crowd liked. And it was good enough to get me ... sixth place. Such is life. Looking at the guys who consistently did well all week long, they all have substantially different acts than mine. Sometimes you just aren't what the judges are looking for. And that is when you accuse the judges of favoring the communist countries and withdraw your ambassador in protest.

The End.

Tags: Seattle, travel

Reviewsday

Everyone wants to know what I think, and I think that's great.

Movie Review: Role Models

This is a stupid movie with a completely moronic premise and virtually no character development.

That being said, it ain't bad! I laughed. I like things to be a) really absurd; b) tightly scripted so you get actual character-based comedy; or c) with lots of hot chicks. A lot of movies these days (Will Ferrell movies, Judd Apatow movies, David Wain movies) try to live between A and B, and the result is usually an awkward bunch of totally bizarre characters interacting in ultimately unconnected set pieces strung on a lame story. Boo. "Role Models" is bit tighter than that, though, and I don't think it aspires to brilliance or greatness. That, plus the c) several hot chicks, is why it works.

The story: two guys who work for an energy drink company get arrested when one has a meltdown (midlife crisis plus breakup), shoves a cop (Louis CK, I think, for all of 10 seconds), breaks a tow truck and then crashes into a statue outside a middle school. So naturally they get ordered by a court to work with children! And not just any children: horridly dysfunctional children! And then the children, in strict accordance with the laws of screenwriting, teach them what's missing in their lives. Also, there is live-action role playing.

There's also one factor that's both hilarious and a wee bit offputting. Bobb'e J. Thompson, who plays the little black kid, is 12, and in this movie he curses like a sailor, with plenty of anatomical flourishes. I guess it's not that big a deal, since on occassion kid actors appear in movies about child molesting or abuse and that sort of thing. But I would like to see as DVD extra an interview with Bobb'e's parents, explaining why they allowed him to appear in this movie. Not that they're bad parents; I just think it would be fascinating.

Anyhow, you have my permission to see this. Go forth.

Book Review: The Devil in the White City

If you like architecture, you will appreciate this book. If you like serial killers, you will appreciate this book. And if you like architecture AND serial killers, this is the greatest book ever written.

There are two intersecting factual stories here: Daniel Burnham's efforts to plan, build and manage the 1893 World's Fair in Chicago, and Dr. H.H. Holmes' efforts to murder a lot of people (mostly young women!) who came to Chicago to see that fair.

Burnham had a Herculean task. He had an imperative to top the recent World's Fair in Paris, limited time, and a problematic building site; his business partner died early in the process; he had to stroke the egos of all the great designers he enlisted to build the pavilions; and he had to handle all the bureaucratic details. Chicago civic pride was on the line. That he managed to pull it off seems to be a bit of a miracle, and some the ripples into the 20th century are carefully noted by author Erik Larson: the number of past and future luminaries that were inspired by the exhibits, buildings and spirit of the "White City" is truly impressive. And also, Pabst won its blue ribbon there.

Holmes was a deranged freak who seduced a lot of women and often seized their personal wealth; he was a charmer who was able to borrow thousands of dollars and then ward off creditors with smiles; and he was, of course, a cold-blooded killer. He had property near the fairgrounds that he turned into a hotel / chamber of horrors, and he used the lure of the fair to kill a lot of people, probably because he got a bit of a semi-erotic rush from it.

Larson does a nice job keeping both stories moving; the only things that gave me pause were passages where he gets a bit too flowery and descriptive with things that he couldn't possibly have data on. There are a few cases where he describes Holmes' actions in minute detail when there are no witnesses at the scene; he also tosses out of a lot of lavish adjectives describing people's eyes, or emotions, or whatever, and the overall effect is like he's trying to pump up the drama. But why? You have a serial killer on one hand and one of the most ambitious building projects in history on the other. The drama is built in already.

Still, this is compelling, mostly well-written and a reasonable length. Something about this era just appeals to me; it's America on the cusp of technological, political, economic and cultural greatness, and the ideas and personalities that put the country over the top (and the ideas and personalities who were crushed along the way) usually make for great stories. Which is why I also enjoyed reading ...

Book Review: The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt

I'm thinking most people won't be up for 780 pages on TR, but you might have heard that I like the presidents. And if you have to read about one of them, you can do a lot worse than Teddy: from his birth to the time he became president (the era covered in the book) he did about five lifetimes worth of stuff.

I'll spare you the blow-by-blow, but TR was a well-reputed historian, a nationally recognized naturalist, a widely read author, a cattle rancher, a New York Assemblyman, an important cog in two different presidential administrations, police commissioner of New York City, a volunteer military hero and governor of New York. He toured Europe a ton, he spoke several languages, he was a widower, he had a ton of kids, he was the head of his family after his dad died (when TR was in his teens), he was an avid sportsman. Oh, and he somehow managed to beat asthma through sheer force of will. He was the most famous man in America in a time before television and radio made that an easy thing to be.

Edmund Morris has a ton to cover, but TR moved with such boundless energy that the narrative keeps clicking along from challenge to challenge. Roosevelt was a supremely confident man; his air of competence and command was something he probably observed in his father and then was forced to assume for himself. Plus he seemed to have a passion and joy for his work that you just don't get from public figures these days. He's been called the most interesting man to be president, and after reading this book you'd have to persuade me otherwise.

So: great book, but probably not for everyone. Then again, who would've thought "John Adams" would sell? The sequel to this book, "Theodore Rex," won the Pulitzer, and it's now officially on my Christmas list. I only need one copy, so all of you coordinate amongst yourselves.

We Have a Verdict

I saw a few more episodes, and "True Blood" is in fact an awful, awful show. Bad acting, bad dialog, bad storylines. The whole thing is bad. The fact that HBO decided that vampires are chic is probably a good sign that vampires are no longer chic.

Can we find a new supernatural focus for pop culture? Ghosts, zombies, vampires and werewolves are played out. I got one word for you, America: MINOTAURS. We need a smart, po mo seriocomic dramedy about a secret clan of minotaurs trying to control the inner circles of Wall Street high finance. Minotaurs in power suits. This will work.

Tags: movies, books

SUPER TRIVIA: December 3

Big news! Happy Hour Trivia has been on hold for a month, but when we come back on December 3 (a Wednesday), it's for a supersized game! We'll be the only event at the Improv that night, so that means we're free to play two rounds of trivia instead of one. That means twice the chances to claim ultimate victory and ram your intelligence down the throats of your mortal enemies. Huzzah.

This time out, the event is also FREE -- all you have to do is show up. Go over to the trivia page for more details. And one special favor -- if you're planning on attending, give us some advance notice (e-mail trivia@dcstandup.com). If we have enough interest, we might be able to move out of the lounge and into the main showroom, which would mean more people can play the game.

Book Review: The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

This is Michael Chabon's first novel, from 1988. I read "Kavalier & Clay" and "Summerland," and I enjoyed them both, so why not? "Mysteries" was kind of slight by the standard of those other books; it covers one post-college summer in which the narrator, the estranged son of a Jewish gangster, makes some new friends and then proceeds to sleep with a few of them. It's well-written, and I enjoyed it as a portrait of youthful angst and confusion, but overall I wasn't particularly blown away. I guess I was hoping for something a bit more epic.

I did enjoy being able to follow the action around Pittsburgh in my mind, since I visit that city enough to actually know the neighborhoods and bridges he keeps mentioning. The town definitely has a personality that adds to the story. However, the mysteries have less to do with Pittsburgh than with the narrator being messed in the head. So if you are hoping to solve the true mystery, why the hell anyone drinks Iron City beer, you'll have to look elsewhere.

Tags: trivia, books

Movie Review: Quantum of Solace

There's a scene in "Die Another Day" where James Bond (who has an invisible car) rides a piece of wreckage like a surfboard to survive a laser-created tidal wave, or something along those lines. I remember watching it in the theater and thinking, "This is the worst moment in James Bond history." Something had to change, and it did: James Bond is now a remorseless killing machine!

All the gadgets are gone, all the action is nastier, and villains aren't quite as cartoonish. The transformation started with the series "reboot" in "Casino Royale," which I enjoyed a great deal, and now things are even more vicious in "Quantum of Solace." It's both good and bad. Good: The action sequences are now a lot more realistic and brutal. Bad: They all use quick-cut editing, so it's jerky and almost impossible to follow. Good: The plot is less ridiculous and the villains seem less moronic. Bad: The plot is much harder to follow.

Mostly I think the new style is an improvement, because I am not 13 years old any longer. I can also appreciate that this movie is the completion of the "Casino Royale" storyline, and so James Bond might be slightly less of a heartless a-hole in the movies that follow. There's room for a little more sunshine, whether it's horrible puns about erections or bringing back Q.

The only thing I would definitely change is the editing. I get that all the rapid action sequences are supposed to impart energy and excitement to the viewer, but mostly it gives me a headache. Any time there's a vehicle chase it's almost impossible to get any concept of where the various vehicles are or how the action is developing; the camera is moving so much during every fistfight that it's hard to be impressed by what anyone is doing. You can't actually see any moves. Whatever little dramas or storylines exist within each action sequence, you cannot follow; I mostly think this "style" of shooting action has developed because choreographed sequences are complicated and tough to do.

Anyhow, I still think I'll recommend this. I've seen every James Bond movie (most of them multiple times) and it's cool to see the franchise dragged into the 21st century. Plus Daniel Craig has a face like a sledgehammer.

Of Human Bondage

At dinner before the movie, it came up that no one else at the table (of six people) had seen even half the Bond movies. I don't know how this is possible. When I was a kid we used to go crazy when a Bond flick was the ABC Sunday night movie. We watched it as a family, because who wouldn't want to watch "Octopussy" with his mother? Then in college, when TBS had the rights, "18 Days of 007" would air right around finals. I remember watching "Moonraker," which is mostly awful, three times in the same week. This is probably why I never nailed down a 4.0.

Here's the rule: if you're a man in the 25-45 range, you should have seen at least 15 Bond movies (out of 23) by now, and you should be planning to see the rest as soon as possible. Anything less and you might be a communist.

Song Sung Blue

Another intriguing dinner conversation: if you knew that for the rest of your life, every time you had sex, a single song would automatically start to play, what song would it be? For the purpose of the exercise you don't have the option of silence.

Whaddaya think? "Fish Heads"?

Tags: movies, books

Movie Review: JCVD

It seems odd to use "Jean-Claude Van Damme" and "defies characterization" in the same sentence, but there's finally a reason! In "JCVD," Van Damme plays Jean-Claude Van Damme, a faded action star with cash-flow problems and a custody battle on his hands; returning home to Belgium, he accidentally stumbles into the middle of a bank robbery, and the authorities mistake him for the perpetrator.

It's not really an action movie, because there's not enough action; it's not played as a straight comedy; it's not quite biting enough to be a satire; and it's not exactly a drama. There's a scene where Van Damme, as a hostage, suddenly rises up above the room and delivers a monologue straight to the camera about his career, expectations, drug abuse and sense of inadequacy; if the subtitles were not horrible translations, it's bordering on incoherence and emotional breakdown, and people in the theater were split on whether to be deeply moved or laughing outloud.

I really don't know what else to tell you. I can't remember seeing another movie quite like this, ever. Huh.

Tags: movies

Movie Review: Synecdoche, New York

Going to bed Friday night, I was pretty sure that "JCVD" was the oddest movie I'd see all year. But I was young and foolish then, as Van Damme has now been kicked in the teeth by Charlie Kaufmann.

This is a movie about death, and self-image, and the use of art to sustain life, or at least I think it is. The beauty of Charlie Kaufmann at this point in his career is that he can do anything he wants and people will just think it's profound. It might actually be profound, but even if it isn't, his reputation can just make everything fit into whatever opinion you happen to form. Brilliant.

Here's the closest I can come to a synopsis: a regional theater director is having a midlife crisis; his health seems to be failing (making him obsess over mortality) and his wife leaves him. Around that time he gets a MacArthur genius grant, and so he decides to embark on a truly personal artistic journey. He rents a warehouse, builds a replica of New York and hires a massive team of actors to replay all the events of his life (but there's no audience). This goes on for a few decades, and expands to include actors playing the actors playing the people. The whole exercise raises questions about whether we're anything more than the perceptions of other people, whether we can ever truly understand anything in another person's life, and whether our own personal tragedies are ultimately epic or meaningless, as every life has variations on the same hardships.

It's a trip, and I suspect many people would absolutely hate this movie. When I saw it, one person in the theater was snoring for about 15 minutes. No one near that guy thought it was a good idea to wake him up, because uptight arthouse crowds have no balls. I had to yell "wake up," which did not really work. The snoring took something away from the emotional impact, so this might not be the best review I've ever written.

I enjoy Charlie Kaufmann. His movies are mostly about people who have the luxury of living in their heads, but somehow he takes very inaccessible premises and finds ways to make them watchable and fascinating without herding his audience toward any one conclusion. Brace yourself and go check this out.

24!

I think 18 months off were good for "24," because that was pretty solid. And way to stick it to the United Nations. Those bastards had it coming.

Die Eagles Die

I'd like to thank the Eagles for rolling over before the start of December. Without the burden of caring about football, I should be able to have a happy and productive holiday season. You guys are the best.

Tags: movies

Let's Take a Break ...

From the onslaught of movie reviews and get to what you all come here to read: my thoughts on politics. Wait, wha ... ???

The Big Picture

One reason I don't like discussing politics is because most people don't think about government much. There's limited understanding about what the president and Congress can actually do, and the state and local stuff that's profoundly important on a personal level is almost a complete mystery. People identify with a party for whatever reason (it's my dad's party! Or it's not my dad's party!) and then cherrypick whatever programs or ideas appeal to them on a personal level. Oftentimes there isn't an underlying coherent worldview that informs their opinions. It's not that people SHOULD sit around and think about this stuff, but if you're going to yell at someone at a party for disagreeing with you, you should probably have some "big picture" stuff worked out in your head.

I think that a lot of people actually in the government do think about these things, but somehow it never comes across that way. They go for the best public relations angle when they're selling stuff as a campaign promise, and in that respect, conservatives have the toughest sell: they want government to do LESS. It's not that they think people should suffer or that poor people are all evil, but it's not too tough for opponents to paint them as heartless or selfish bastards.

There's talk now about how the Republican party and the conservative movement are lost in the woods and need some sort of clear direction. There's also worry that we're on the verge of a New New Deal which could significantly alter the relationship of citizens to the government for the next few generations. If you study enough communist and socialist history (China, Russia) this should make you nervous -- not because we're on the verge of becoming a socialist or totalitarian country, but because they are horrifying an recent examples of what can happen when people believe too strongly in the power of government to change the world. We even have glaring caveats in present-day Europe, where a lot of economies are stagnant, inequality is worsening and the budget outlooks are awful, in large part because they have relied too heavily on government as the primary means to regulate everyday life. That's where we might be heading, even though we KNOW it isn't a good place to be.

But how do you make the case for doing less? I think you ask: "Why do we have government?" And then you build from there. I'm not a pundit or a great political thinker, but I got to noodling all this a few weeks ago on one of my long drives to a gig. Here's what I came up with. I don't know that it's right, but I think it at least makes sense.

What Is To Be Done?

After 6,000 years of recorded history, it's safe to say that life isn't fair. Not on the large scale, with billions randomly born into squalor while millions are born into upper-middle class tract housing; not on the small scale, where the biggest complainers get the most free things at restaurants and die-hard fans can't afford playoff tickets. Fairness across all borders and races could be achieved in the cosmic sense when the sun explodes, or the aliens attack and enslave us all, but those are problems for our great-grandchildren. There's a depressing weight to this fact (accompanyed with a sense of powerlessness), and so much of the history we've been recording spawns directly from humans trying to answer the question:

What Should We Do About This?

Six millennia haven't been enough to reach a consensus. Some people have embraced unfairness, and are strong advocates of hitting other people in the head with rocks so that they can get on the right side of it. Some have seen their time on Earth as a lost cause beyond their control, and count on the scales being balanced after they're dead. Some drink beer.

Good strategies all, each with merit. But what captures the popular imagination time and again is government: the idea that a people banding together can, through their collective will, make the world tolerable enough to bother waking up before noon. Alone each of us would stand helplessly before the whims of the universe (in the form of large groups of people holding rocks), but united, we can take a rock to the head and keep going. At the very least, government gives us the impression that we're trying to do SOMETHING to tame fate. It passes the time.

And so all governments are sworn to do, or at least organize, the big things that individuals simly cannot do for themselves: raise armies, provide for the common defense, build roads, figure out a way for everyone to have a flush toilet, etc. This is what government does best. We all agree that being forced to work in a salt mine while our wives become harem girls is a bad thing, and so an army benefits us all; we all would like to get to work on time, and even if we don't leave the house much, we'd like the trucks carrying our favorite breakfast cereals and anti-depressants to get to our town, and so roads benefit us all.

But once the roads are built and the police all have shiny badges, we look around and see that things still aren't fair. In America, some have fabulous wealth while doing little work; others who toil endlessly can barely scrape by. Some can spend endlessly on doctors and medicines for the most trivial of problems; others can't afford aspirin. So what should we do about this?

One option is to grin and bear it, since we know that life isn't fair. There is too much whimsy and randomness in the system of the universe for us to control all the variables; it's pointless to even try; and why even lose sleep over something you can't accomplish? It's a logical option, and in many senses a fair one, but not one that you can really sell without sounding lazy or like a complete jerk. Image counts these days, so we tend to ignore this choice.

A second option is to use government. If the people consent to it, then why can't we use that organization to give everyone equal wealth, or opportunity, or playoff tickets? It's a noble-sounding option, and one that you would be hard-hearted to argue against, especially if you were trying to hit on a girl at a cocktail party.

But it's not without problems.

The men who founded this country thought about government quite a lot, because there was no television back then. They were careful in choosing their words: In declaring their independence they asserted that all men were created equal, with inaliable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Equality came not from wealth, or land, or access to a good pediatrician, but from creation itself, in the form of those three rights; beyond that all bets were off. The duty of government was not to preserve what was fair, but NOT to impinge on those three rights. The divides of wealth and poverty existed in their time, but government was not the first tool they turned to when trying to fix such problems.

Which isn't to say that ideas can't evolve. The meaning of "men" was expanded, in 1863 and again in 1920; the world itself has changed in ways that those men never could have anticipated, with the advent of cars, and computers, and large public relations firms. But even if the American idea of government now means creating economic fairness, there's a slightly gargantuan issue: how do you know when you're finished?

The average poor man from 1900 would chew off his own leg for the chance to live like the poor man of the 21st century, and possibly use his chewed-off leg to club the 21st century man for that chance. Yet we still have the very distinct idea of "rich" and "poor." One hundred years of progress haven't erased the distinction or created any stronger sense of fairness; though we have raised the floor, the ceiling has moved with it. How can we ever say that things are truly "fair" when some of those among us will always have less?

And what of circumstance? If a man decides to spend all his money on drugs, or video games, and forgets to pick up groceries, should we make sure he doesn't starve? If not, what if he has children? Should they suffer for his mistakes? Does the man who eats twelve bags of potato chips a day have same claim on financial assistance for health problems as the man born with an illness he cannot control?

And so on, until we realize that fairness is not the easiest thing for government to create. Government is a big tool, ideal for big projects; but the problems of economics are often detailed, personal and full of contingencies. When you use a hammer to fix a circuitboard, there will definitely be results, but the circuitboard might not work the way you had hoped. Government can change lives and transfer wealth, but it cannot achieve "fairness" for all, or even define what fairness is.

But this is not a failure. It's easy to look at it that way: to see suffering or pain or hard luck and simply throw up your hands and say, "oh well," seems cruel, the sort of action suitable for a man twirling a bushy black moustache. However, there is a difference between cheering the unfairness of life, and believing that government is not the tool to fight the unfairness. We have other tools: families, churches, neighbors, networks, charity and luck. They are smaller tools, each more intimately acquainted with the details of smaller, personal problems; they are tools that can help every day and adapt more rapidly and directly to the situations at hand. They fail, oftentimes spectacularly, but that's the case with all tools.

Should we accept all this, there is still the temptation of government: can it be used to help the other tools, to push them along? If we lost our job, we might turn to family for a place stay, or some cash to help make it through to the next job interview. Can government help relieve that burden, say, with unemployment insurance, or a state-owned fold-out couch? Doing so spreads the burden over a wider pool, but at heart it's a limited gesture, not one designed to reorder the economic order of things. If we have to have government do something (if only to sleep soundly) then that seems to as good a choice as any.

When we use government in these ways (about half the electorate says we must, and they're pretty adamant about it; they have signs and banners and everything), the key is restraint. Lines have to be drawn before we're off to tilt at windmills, and there are lines we can probably all, as compassionate people, agree upon. So why not one bright line, drawn at children? In the American ideal, government protects the "pursuit of happiness" -- the effort itself, not the goal -- but that pursuit is handicapped against many children, who have no control over their circumstances. No amount of money or services will ever overcome bad parenting, but guaranteeing health care or day care or access to a decent education seems reasonable -- even "fair." But there must be a point where the burden of success is transferred back to the citizen, where government is only a tool of last resort and not a means to rearrange lives. The longer government tries to replace the other tools and institutions for change, the more we weaken those institutions, to the detriment of us all. China and Russia were kind enough to prove that in the extreme over the last 50 years.

In the end it's not the job of government to ensure good jobs for all, or happy retirement for all, or free ice cream and nice houses for all. In the end there will be misery, and suffering, and economic inequality. Some people will enjoy fabulous wealth through no great effort of their own; others will work to exhaustion and barely get by. It will make you sad to see it, and it should. But the point of America isn't to end suffering or misery; it's to allow people the hope of fighting against that suffering and knowing that things might work out. Fighting as friends, family and neighbors toward that goal does as much as government ever could.

In the end, that's more than most people in 6,000 years of recorded history have been ableto enjoy. It is not fair, but it is American.

Tags: politics