Sounds like recovery
The fine folks at CD Baby (an online store for independent musicians) have come up with a great way to support hurricane relief. Thousands (no kidding) of their artists have volunteered to donate 100% of the proceeds from the sale of their music to the Red Cross.

If you don't know CD Baby, you should. They allow independent artists to market their music and receive a fair profit from the sales. Plus those of us who like to buy music benefit from actual audio samples that last longer than a sneeze. There are some great artists there, from a variety of genres. Come on....you'll get great music, they'll get new fans, and the Red Cross gets the money it needs to help save peoples' lives. Everybody wins.

NYT Columnist Blasts Bush
Three cheers and an amen for Bob Herbert on the President's apalling callousness, cluelessness, and general incompetence in the wake of Katrina.

Not an issue of color?
Yeah, right. Perhaps the initial neglect to provide buses or other ways for the poor to get out of town was based on economic status rather than color. It just so happens that the majority of the poor in New Orleans happen to be black. But I firmly believe the lack of resources to help those stranded at the Superdome and the Convention Center was based on color. I believe that if CNN was showing footage of cute little blond children with blue eyes and curly hair, crying from hunger and fear as they waited for help, that the government would have been there within 24-hours with food, medicine, and a plan to get them to safety. If thousands of middle-class white people had been stranded without resources, I think we would have gotten help sooner.

And what's with the white vs. black photos of "looters?" If a black person steals it's looting, but if a white person steals it's "finding food for his family?"

I think the Bush administration has a hell of a lot to answer for in this case. (Whose brilliant idea was it to cut funding to FEMA so we can fight terrorists? We've had a hell of a lot more natural disasters than terror attacks since 9/11.) I think disaster relief/management in general in the US needs a major overhaul. Why wait until after the storm to tell people where to gather? Why no provision for those who lack the resources to get themselves out of town? What should have happend is announcement for everyone who wanted to evacuate to get to the Superdome, and then bus them to safety before the storm. Certainly that would have been easier, cheaper, and far less traumatic for all concerned that to just say "get out" and leave the poor to fend for themselves.

I am angry, sickened, and completely ashamed of America at this point. And all I can do is give more money. That's pretty much all you can do too. If you haven't yet opened your wallet, do so now. The Red Cross seems to be the most likely place to donate, but there are hundreds of organizations rushing to aid those who have lost everything. You know you can afford it...and you know that you can afford more than you've given already. Do it.

Give
That's all, just give. If the horrific stories out of the south don't move you to open your wallet, you have no soul. The Network for Good has a list of charities that are working to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Everything from the Red Cross and Second Harvest to Noah's Wish and the North Shore Animal League which are looking out for displaced pets and wildlife. Please help.

I Need Some Good News!
Hurricanes killing hundreds and rendering thousands homeless. Looting. Hundreds dead in riots. A war that won't end. Gas prices going even higher. Housing prices continuing to rise.

Please, I need some good news. I need something to make me laugh, or at least make me smile. Something to reaffirm my faith in mankind. Something to wipe images of destruction out of my brain.

Doesn't anybody have any good news? Please, I'm begging you here.

We're Number 12! We're Number 12!
The United States ranks 12th among the 21 richest nations in the world for foreign aid. Denmark ranks as the most generous country in the world, spending 89 cents per person, per day, in government aid and one cent per person per day in private giving. The US spends 15 cents per person per day, In a world where more than 2 billion people live on less than $2 a day, it's shameful that we continue to spend billions on a pointless war while people are starving. Come on people, get out a crowbar and open up your damned wallets.

When was the last time you wrote a check to charity? You know you can afford it. $20 buck....that's a pizza. Give $20 buck to the Red Cross, or UNICEF, or AmFAR, or some other worthy organization. But it's up to those of us who have the money to take care of those who don't.

The Importance of Hating Ernest
"Reading Hemingway in Cupertino" is not as evocative a title as “Reading Lolita in Tehran,” but it nevertheless conveys my last lunchtime window shop excursion to a bookstore.

To begin with, I must state upfront that I am not a fan of Hemingway; neither his writing nor his plots. I know, I know, I’m a Philistine. But I’m a Philistine with an open mind, at least where books are concerned. When I say “I don’t like Hemingway,” it is as a college student forced to read “For Whom the Bell Tolls” for a class taught by a teacher whose name I will never recall, in spite of the fact that I have perfect recollection of his purple cardigan sweater and eternal licorice-breath.

But I’ve aged since then, and I thought it was time I give Hemingway another try. (I am discounting the “Moveable Feast” episode where I thought it would be “artistic” to actually take with me to Paris. It wasn’t.) So off I go to a bookstore to browse through their selection. I was intrigued by “To Have and Have Not,” because I love the movie so much – but I know the book is different from the movie and I decide against it for fear it would taint a great popcorn flick. “The Old Man and the Sea” has the element of brevity going for it, but I know the plot and I have no interest in either old men or the sea. (Apologies to Melville.)

I pick up “The Sun Also Rises,” and quickly put it down again, deciding I’m not really in the mood for a book filled with unpleasant drunk people doing unpleasant things to other unpleasant drunk people.

“Hemingway on Fishing?” Shoot me now.

Ah…”The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories.” Now there’s a possibility. I love Africa. Short stories take far less commitment than a novel, and I can get more plot variety.

I’m halfway to the check-out counter before I turn around and put it back on the shelf. I had one of those pre-buy epiphanies that so often save us from bad purchases. There amid the faceouts of "Dummies" guides, I realize that it’s ok not to like Hemingway. Maybe it’s because he’s a so-called “man’s writer” and I am happily penis-free. Maybe it’s because hating his short, staccato writing style that makes every sentence sound like a cough, is a perfect reasonable assessment of his skill as a writer. Maybe because I’m not in college anymore and I don’t have to read anything that I’m not genuinely interested in. Whatever the reason, I put Ernest back and happily wander over to the History section.

The Gospel According to Marcel Marceau
Sometimes there are just no words. Check out the gospel mimes. My vote for scariest Flash intro ever -- watch it and be very afraid.

How to you spell that?
I've always rather hated my extremely common first name (Lisa). But this article/forum by the BBC on the difficulties faced by those with hard to pronounce names makes me almost glad I don't have that problem.

I'd like something unusual, but easy to say. None of these riduclous spellings (Tyffanae?) or made up names (Shaweniqua), just something where I don't know 15 people with the same name.

Bosworth Day
On this date in 1485, King Richard III of England was piteously slain at the Battle of Bosworth Field by Henry Tudor (later Henry VII). Loyaulte me lie.

Desk Set
Desk Set is a really wonderful movie. Perfect comfy, happy, "they don't make 'em like that anymore" entertainment. Spencer Tracy as a computer genius. Katharine Hepburn as a reference wizard (god I want her job!). Will the evil machine put Hepburn and her "girls" out of work? Will they fall in love?

Speaking of love, I'd love to to have her job...imagine spending all day around books, looking things up, answering questions, solving mysteries, learning new things....and getting paid for it! Heaven!

Much Ado About T.O.
If you don't follow Eagles football, you probably don't care about the ongoing soap opera involving the King of Me-Me-Land, Terrell Owens. Cranky because the Eagles refuse to renegotiate his 7-year $48 million dollar contract (which he signed last year), he's been his usual uncooperative, nasty, bitter, selfish self. Yesterday his antics got him kicked out of training camp for a week.

T.O. has complained that he has to consider his family. Um, ok. just how big is your family T.O.? And how much do these peole eat? You can't feed them on $50 million? You poor thing. Just rest now, T.O. while we have a telethon in your favor.

I hope the Eagles trade his sorry butt. The team and the city deserve better than this. And I would like nothing more than to find wonder boy out on his ass with no one to play with and no one to cheer for him.

The Evolution Revolution
So GW has spoken out on the issue of teaching evolution in schools by saying, "I felt like both sides ought to be properly taught."

Ah yes, both sides. The proven, scientific side that actually belongs in a classroom, and the theoretical, faith-based theory that has no place in a public school.

Why, oh why are we still having this debate? Why, oh why does it seem like the longer this administration is in office, the farther back in time we go. I have fears that by the time Bush is ready to pack up his Adam & Eve pop-up books and head back to Texas, we'll all be wearing white caps and muslin and the entire country will be constantly dressed for a Thanksgiving reenaction.

This is the 21st century. The fossil record is fact. It is science. It it not a theory. And yet the President and his narrow-minded cronies would like for all American children to be taught that the ridiculous, unproven, Christian-dominated theory of creationism is an idea worthy of their time. Whatever happened to the separation of church and state?

Hot weather music
For me, when the temperature rises, the music must keep pace. In the summertime, I can't get enough of high-energy, make you sweaty, get off your ass and dance music. Here are a few of my favorites for Summer, 2005.

North African Groove. Yet another delicious Putumayo compilation. Sexy Arabic beats, great vocals, serious fun. Yum with a capital, yow!

Tekitoi by Rachid Taha. Buy this one, trust me. The title track, plus that deliciously ironic, iconic cover of Rock the Casbah are two of the most infecious, exciting world tracks of 2005. This one rocks!

Son: Soul of a Nation by Sierra Maestra. Not as hot and upbeat as the previous two, this release is a sultry trip into the history of Cuban son music. Slow & sexy, romantic as a kiss at midnight, this one is just too delicious for words.

Come on folks, break out of your rut. Try any of these, and I guarantee you'll have fun.

The Return of the Stanford
My beloved Stanford Theatre is finally, finally, oh frabjous day, open!

It's been closed for renovations for far too long, and I was going into serious withdrawal. For those of you in the San Francisco Bay Area, I urge you to visit the Stanford. It's a classic movie house from the days when movie houses featured gold leaf and velvet curtains. You will always see two (yes, two!) wonderful old movies (with an organist between the shows), plus you can munch on the best movie popcorn in the Bay Area. This weekend, one of my all-time favorite movies The Philadelphia Story plus the classic mysery, Laura. Do go, it's a wonderful date spot.

You could go a long way in Poland without seeing anything pretty...
So says the hatefully odd Mrs. Mortimer in The Clumsiest People in Europe: Or, Mrs. Mortimer's Bad Tempered Guide to the Victorian World. Mrs. Mortimer was a humorless, xenophobic childrens' author in England in the 1850s who wrote three guides to the world. The only problem was, she'd never seen the world. All she'd seen that wasn't England was Brussels, Paris, and Edinburgh. Still, she manages to find something insulting to say about nearly every county and every race of people on the planet. Her books have recently been rereleased and are apallingly hilarious. Comments such as "the Swedes do nothing well," and "Spain is full of murderers" will have you howling in amazement.

Good with kids
Why is the phrase "good with kids" a legitimate description of someone but "good with adults" isn't? It's odd, because it lumps all kids in together as being alike. Even someone like me, who is most decidedly not good with kids, knows that kids are different. As different as adults. I am good with some adults. I've even been known to be good with a few, select kids. Other adults, I am not so good with. And I think I prefer it that way. Only someone like Mother Teresa can be "good with everyone."

It just seems like an odd phrase. "Good with kids." What does that mean, anyway?

The really strange thing is how many parents seem to be "bad with kids." Honestly, I don't believe people even think about having children before they start reproducing. On the whole, more thought seems to go into what breed of dog to get, or what kind of car to buy than goes into the issue of kids. They have children because that's what you do. You get married. You have kids. That's it. Which is sad, really, because I think at least 50% of parent would probably say "no" if they honestly asked themselves "do I really want to have children?"

I know that I don't. I have always known that I don't. I have no maternal instincts whatsoever and I'm way too selfish to be a good mom. I like being impulsive. And I'm so full of self-doubt that I know I wouldn't be able to raise the kind of fearless, confident child that I'd want to raise. No, I like that it's just me and my sweetie.

But then again, I'm not "good with kids."

A change of view
We're getting new windows at our house tomorrow. Our landlady has decided to replace the two big windows in the living room, and the one in the office. Lovely, but a heck of a lot of work to clear out space. The window guys need 3-4 feet of clear space inside the house to work. Given that our house ins't that large, finding places to move a sofa, a large work table, a desk, etc., isn't easy. But we did it.

Now it looks so strange.

I'm sitting in a chair that usually faces the fireplace. Now it's where our sofa usually lives. The view is familar, but not. The ancient and falling-apart bookcase is gone, so there's a wasteland of more-or-less sand-colored carpet between me and the window. As is always the case when you move things about, the room looks so much bigger. This space that always seems packed when I try to fit 9 people in here for our monthly bookgroup, now appears to be big enough to give waltz lessons. It's all so vast and open. In a way it makes me wish it was always like this...that we could keep the sofa up against the bookcases and just have this open space.

What is it about looking at familiar things from a different angle that always causes such a reaction? My house feels as cozy and familiar as always, but it's different. There's an airiness about the open space that provides an almost Zen-like sense of peace. Is it the simplicity? Am I subconsciously being stressed by my row of cactus plants? Do the tables that usually flank the sofa make me feel trapped somehow?

Oh well, I'm not going to analyze it (in spite of the fact that I apparently already am analyzing it), I'm just going to enjoy the novelty and look forward to having my house back in order tomorrow.

The Legend of "Cheap and Surly"
There's an Indian resturant nearby that my dear friend, Naveena, introduced me to. In spite of the numerous times I've been there I cannot, for the life of me, tell you the real name of this place. Since my first visit I have always referred to it as "Cheap and Surly."

To begin with, let me tell you that yes, the food is very good. And yes, it is inexpensive. But the one and only waitress that we've ever seen there is the most unwelcoming, inattentive, careless waitress in the history of served food. No, really, she is.

She never says hello. Never welcomes you. Barely looks at you. You come in, the place is always empty, and you seat yourself (because she shows no sign of pointing you to a table). Eventually, she'll put menus on your table. Eventually, you order. Eventually, food comes. Eventually, she'll bring you a plate, a napkin, and maybe a spoon, maybe a spoon and a fork (score!).

Today I took my husband there for lunch, as he'd been hearing about C & S ever since my first visit. I lived up to its reputation, as far as he's concerned.

The world's most unwelcoming waitress (WMUW, for short) did all of the above. When time came for cutlery, it arrived in a pile, sort of thrown on the table after our food had arrived. It was up to us to sort it out. A few minutes later, after I'd already used my spoon to take a helping of one of the dishes, she shows up again and thrusts a serving spoon into the bowl -- like she was poking a turkey to see if it was done.

Mind you, the place was empty. WMUW was most emphatically not being run off her feet. We were the only table. There were two men who were leaving as we came in, and their table remained un-bused the entire time we were there.

One other guy came in and asked about an order to go. When told it would take 30 minutes he agreed and then almost immediately changed his mind....too late...WMUW had already disappeared into the dark recesses of the apparently soundproof kitchen. After about 6 or 7 tries of "Miss?" "Miss?" WMUW finally moseyed on out to the counter where the poor guy cancelled his order.

Mind you, all this with a Bollywood soundtrack CD blaring from the speakers. Music which she immediately switched off (not turned down, which would allow your customers to still enjoy the cool music, but turned off) when the phone rang so that she could then shout into the phone for several minutes. So much for a nice ambience. More chicken tikka, dear?

One of the more endearing features of C & S is the complete absence of a check. In all the many times I've got there, WMUW has never once actually brought a check to the table. When you're done, you walk over to the counter and ring the bell, hoping that luck is with you and the tiny ding will penetrate into the soundproof kitchen (where the big ding likes to hide in-between snarls). Of course, I should count my blessings. The bell is a relatively new addition...you used to have to stand there and just shout towards the kitchen.

Today it only took two rings before WMUW roused herself from her overworked stupor and condescended to take our money. "Good thing we're honest," my husband said, as we could easily have walked out without paying while WMUW was hidden behind the curtain of safety in the kitchen area....away from us nasty customers.

We speculated that she got roped into this against her will. That she had no desire to open a resturant but her father or husband or someone bought it and her form of protest is to make the dining experience so completely miserable that there will be no repeat customers. Unfortunately for her, the food is really good. And as long as I always go in expecting to be ignored and treated with a complete lack of hospitality, I guess I'm OK with that.

It came from Sweden!!!!
Yesterday I had one of the more frightening experiences of my life.

I went to Ikea.

If you've never been, don't go. It's terrifying. First of all, the one that I visited (in East Palo Alto, California), has a garage that makes airport parking garages seem tiny by comparison. Of course the 20-foot high concrete walls don't exactly inspire a sense of cozy - but it's vast. Immense. So big that in spite of the fact that the store was packed, the garage looks empty.

Then you enter the store (if you can figure out where the entrance is, of course). Then the "fake museum experience" truly begins. Pick up a map. Follow the arrows on the floor. Want something from the first floor? Sorry, you have to go through the "hall of soulless rooms" upstairs before you can come back down and visit the "emporium of Nordic wonders." So up we go.

Screaming kids. Smug yuppies who actually want a "house in box" because it saves them from having to be creative. Entire families sprawled in stupification on anti-grammatical furniture. Then the fake "happy home" dioramas of perfect kitchens and cold bedrooms. All with odd Swedish touches like copies of Dashiell Hammett's "The Glass Key," in Swedish on their light ash bookshelves.

Now don't get me wrong. If you're just starting out and can't afford much, the prospect of getting a table for $50 or a $75 bed is nice. But why would you want an entire house, let along an entire room, that looks just like someone else's house or room?

The truly ironic thing is that we never did find what we went there for. We did, however, pick up an office chair, which we'd needed for a while. And I bought two heavy cardboard storage boxes, shoe-box size, for photos and such. Then we get home.

The chair requires no tools or hardware whatsoever. My husband put it together, by himself, in under 5 minutes. The little boxes? They're held together with screws. Of course. I needed a screwdriver and a crescent wrench. I also needed three hands. It took both of us somewhere around 10 minutes to put together the two boxes.

I came away with a new appreciation for antiques, a headache, and a firm determination to never set foot in another Ikea. Ever.

I wonder if there will be an entire generation of Swedish children traumatized by the fact that their names have been assigned to cheap, mass-produced furniture? And is there a heirarchy to it all? Will the other kids pick on you if you're named after a footstool, but not if you've got the name of an entire dining room suite?

Freaky.