From http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/31/opinion/31sat4.html:

No matter what you call it, it adds up to the same thing. Millions of animals are crowded together in inhumane conditions, causing significant environmental threats and unacceptable health risks for workers, their neighbors and all the rest of us.

    OK, the use of the word "inhumane" in terms of animals is probably regrettable, but, that aside, to those of us familiar with The Omnivore's Dilemma (thank you, Lisa) this isn't news.  What is news, though, is that mainstream groups are starting to see the problems inherent in these large-scale CAFO's, and that the details of the conditions and surrounding problems are getting out, particularly around the health issues created by the crowding and by the waste created by these farms.

    I mean, feel free to be a vegetarian if you want, but ultimately, I'm interested in understanding how the large systems can be changed to deal with the 99% of people who still eat meat, while finding better scalable solutions to provide food for the billions of people in the world who need it.  This is one situation where simply exposing the system to the light of increased awareness will drive changes.  One hopes that Congress and a new administration might be willing to make changes in laws and regulations to make an impact here, but we're still too stupid to cut off ethanol production in favor of actually feeding people so I don't have high hopes for quick changes.

    I'm home tonight, and I've been watching some of my concert DVD's while I'm messing around with e-mail and reading and whatever.  I own very few movies (not many I'd really want to watch over and over), I own tons of CD's, and I own dozens of concert DVD's (which I want to watch over and over just like I would listen to the music on them).

    I first was watching Julia Fordham's That's Live, which is a brilliant little chance to see what she's like in concert if you've missed her (and I have).  God, what a voice she has... absolutely angelic, and it's such a pleasure to see that such brilliant musicians recognize it as well and want to work with her, not just at this show, but over the length of her career.  She does something very cool on it... she actually does a commentary track, like a director would.  There was this moment during one of the songs where she said "I just love that bass track that Larry does there... you see, I spin around to look at him when he does that."  And it was just that moment, but it was a great opportunity to hear what was going on inside her head, and to hear how much she was enjoying the show and was in the present.

    Then I threw on Rush In Rio.  At this point, if you don't like Rush, you just don't get it, and I won't bother trying to convince you, but the boys are in fine form for this show in front of the second-largest crowd they've ever played for.  What's special is that this is the first time they've ever played in Rio after a 30-year career.  Almost the entire crowd is made up of fans who have never had the opportunity to see them play, unlike most American crowds, where the majority are returning customers (I've seen them at least a dozen times myself).  So there's this one moment as the first notes of "Tom Sawyer" start the show, where the camera catches a man with his hands clenched in prayer, looking up at the sky, as if to say, "Thank you God, finally, I'm seeing Rush live."  Just seeing that man have that reaction to the show gave me chills.  It connected me to why we all go see music played live, and why there's still no substitute for the live show.

    And that made me think of a few lines from fans in the book that comes with Robbie Williams' DVD What We Did Last Summer.

• "There were these four men standing just near me.  And when the first notes to "Angels" started they all started to cry.  Tears were rolling down ther cheeks and I just couldn't believe it.  Never seen something like that."
• "My mum told me about Elvis.  I never understood.  The moment Robbie came on stage - I understood."
• "When Robbie appeared Houdini-style... I just burst into tears."

     And that's what music can do.  I've reconnected lately with the redemptive power of music, as I just throw on some music as I walk to the bus after a bad day at work and immediately feel better, more human, less inside my own head.  I had forgotten that... I've forgotten how to look to be saved sometimes, if only temporarily.  I used to look for that reflexively when I was younger... now the idea that I should turn to music or meditation as a place to be healed is something I have to consciously remember.

    Seeing these moments where musicians and fans were just connected like this just made me really happy.  This is what grace looks like and sounds like.

    I don't specifically remember the night sky, but I do remember being eight years old learning about the planets for the first time and just being hooked.  I was definitely going to be an astronomer, until I first did some computer programming when I was eleven, and that changed that.  I've known what I was going to do with my life since I was eight years old... imagine that.

    Anyway, I just got completely into it.  There was a time when I had memorized the mass, average distance from the sun, number of moons, names of moons, AU's, etc. of all of the planets, and I knew a decent amount about the stars and constellations, too.  I had a small reflecting telescope... I used to stare at the moon through it.

    As for the vastness of space... I invite each of you, as an exercise, to comtemplate the vastness of space for a few moments every day.  In each galaxy, there are roughly 100,000,000,000 stars.  And, from what I understand, there are roughly 100,000,000,000 galaxies in the known universe.  And between each star, generally, is an immense amount of space, so large that, even from earth, the nearest star's light take four years to reach us.  And the distance between galaxies is so, so, so, much more vast than that.

    And so many people here on Earth spend their time worrying about the tiny plot of land they own among other tiny plots of land, that all look so funny when seen from the sky in an airplane, with each plot of land sitting on a planet that circles a completely average, uninteresting star, one among 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stars.

    And then think of the enormity of the events that occur in space:  novas, supernovas, pulsars, quasars, black holes.  Imagine what it's like when two black holes collide.  Or when galaxies collide.  Gravitational forces impacting stars and planets for millions of years before contact is ever made, and then slowly, stars fall into each other, entire portions of one galaxy, with billions of stars, are subsumed by the other, some destroyed, some altered, entire planets and species and ecosystems destroyed at random.


    And then go back to decide for yourself how important your life really is, and what context you're interested in holding as you live it.

    Christ, my whole life lately has sort-of been a risk.... left a long-term relationship, moved to the West Coast, took a new and demanding job, finding new friends, accepting new responsibilities, figuring out who I am now, etc.

    Of course, the biggest and most fun risks are still at the poker table.

    "Chill the fuck out.  Seriously."

    I'm a night person... I don't think well in the morning at all.  If I could work a shift from 4:00 PM to midnight I'd probably be twice as productive.

    I write my best code at night, I do my best reading at night, I do my best thinking at night, I do my best meditating at night (I know... not thinking).

From http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/03/world/americas/03venez.html?pagewanted=all:

The new law requires people in the country to comply with requests to assist the agencies, secret police or community activist groups loyal to Mr. Chávez. Refusal can result in prison terms of two to four years for most people and four to six years for government employees.
...

The drafting and passage of the law behind closed doors, without exposing it to the public debate it would have had if Mr. Chávez had submitted it to the Assembly, also contributed to the public uproar and suspicion.

...

While the language of this passage of the law, and several others, is vague, legal experts say the idea is clear: justice officials, including judges, are required to actively collaborate with the intelligence services rather than serve as a check on them.

 

    So, as I predicted, the scumbag Chavez is moving towards dictatorial control of a nation that wouldn't reelect him if it had a choice, and which did at least show barely enough sense not to choose those dictatorial terms in an election some months ago.

    We cannot afford this kind of destabilizing force in South America at a time when it is becoming more and more connected to the global economy.  This guy is running the Venezuelan economy into the ground, despite having enormous profits from being one of the world's largest oil exporters.

    I'm not saying that we need to invade.  In the good old days, we just would have sent the CIA in to take care of him.  But we do need to think long and hard about how we do the soft-kill on his government, through making sure that the people perceive the value of global connectivity while weakening him over time as the dangerous anachronism he is.

    Idiots continue to think he's wonderful though... Harry Belafonte, Jimmy Carter, Cindy Sheehan, Jesse Jackson...

    June 3rd, Seattle... it's 49 degrees F and rainy.

    Screw it, I'm having hot chocolate.

    We won't even see 60 degrees F this week.  Crazy.

    Ray Kurzweil has predicted lots and lots of things.  He also made some kick-ass keyboards back in the day, but I digress.  He predicts what he calls the Singularity to happen sometime in the 21st Century.  The Singularity is: "the next step in this inexorable evolutionary process: the union of human and machine, in which the knowledge and skills embedded in our brains will be combined with the vastly greater capacity, speed, and knowledge-sharing ability of our own creations."

    Someone scheduled a 7:00 AM conference call with me today.  I didn't really feel like getting up at 6:00 AM just to accomodate him, and it's not like it wouldn't have been work, so I got up at 6:45 AM, made some tea, and got on the call.  I moved my bus reservation from 7:45 AM (when I usually take it) to the 8:55 AM bus.

    The sonofabitch didn't show up to his own call, and I waited until 7:20 AM.

    When I got out of the shower and got dressed and checked my email again at 8:30 AM he had rescheduled it for exactly 8:30, so I declined, since I had to eat something, walk to the bus, and would have been on the bus during the call, which is really rude.

    Because of all of this, we're stuck in horrible traffic, I'm still on the bus at 10:00 AM, and I won't be in my office until 10:30 AM.

    And he probably had the call without me, anyway.

    Moral of the story: don't be a douchebag.  Scheduling meetings and conference calls before 9:00 AM is the height of rudeness.  I understand it if I have to talk to Europe or India or something, but not for a domestic meeting, ever.  Fucking pisses me off, seriously.  And show up for your own damn meetings.  Christ.

    From http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/7436263.stm:

Evidence of serious flaws in the multi-billion dollar global market for carbon credits has been uncovered by a BBC World Service investigation.

The credits are generated by a United Nations-run scheme called the Clean Development Mechanism (CDM).

...

Arguably, this defeats the whole point of the CDM scheme, set up under the Kyoto climate change protocol, as these projects are getting money for nothing.

The findings reinforce doubts that the CDM is leading to real emission cuts, which is not good news for the effort to combat climate change.

    First of all, the whole notion of trading carbon credits is just about the silliest notion in the world, meant to make guilty liberals feel better about their consumption (as if it matters), while allowing wealthy corporations not to change their behavior at all and get good P.R. in exchange for a small percentage of money.

    To this already wonderful and amusing system, let's add the U.N.'s amazing propensity for grossly mismanaging multi-billion-dollar projects, like the infamous Iraq Oil-For-Food program.

    I admit, I bought into the TerraPass thing at first... then I thought about it, and I haven't renewed.  I just don't think it actually accomplishes anything deeply worthwhile, other than the typical Green ideal of thinking that you're "saving the world."

    So how many billions of dollars does the U.N. have to broker and then waste on this bullshit before we stop doing it?  My guess:  there is no limit, but by the time it's all said and done, we're going to see waste, fraud, and abuse well into 11 figures.  That's > $10B, to save you the math.

    Enough said....

    Nothing major here... I just decided to come out and find a late-night coffee shop.  I drove across town to Bauhaus Books and Coffee... they're open until 1:00 A.M.  I got a soy latte, came up to the loft part of the shop to sit and work.  I found a table, took off my jacket, got out my computer and mouse, got everything turned on and ready to go, and sat down to get started.  (Oh yeah, I looked around to check out everyone here, too, of course.  Seattle has really cute women...)

    Then, after maybe ten minutes of heads-down on the laptop here, I looked out the window, finally to notice a perfect view of the Space Needle on a clear night... flashing red lights all around it warning planes of the tops of the buildings nearby.  What a fascinating piece of Jetsons-style architecture that is.  It's too bad Frank Gehry threw up, er, I mean designed, the EMP nearby, but you can't have everything.

    I'm really glad I have my place in Ballard.  It suits me to live there probably more than Capitol Hill, but I'm really glad to be able to hop over here whenever I feel like it and enjoy the energy here, too.

    I don't usually bother writing media reviews, and I don't usually write them for movies from three years ago, and especially not for movies that very few people saw, and that most of those who saw didn't like very much.  But I love this movie... I watched it again last night with a friend who hadn't seen it, so I've been thinking about it today.

    I don't own many movies, but Elizabethtown is one of them, and it's my second-favorite movie ever (after The Matrix trilogy, of course).  Every time I read a review of this movie from someone who didn't like it, I just hear someone who didn't quite tune into the frequency that Cameron Crowe was trying to put out with it.  I just got it, first time, and I love it.  I've always loved Cameron Crowe movies -- there's something special about how he writes and how he directs -- but this one was his most personal movie, and it shows.

    I won't bother recapping the plot.  It's all about the themes in the movie to me, and how much I relate to them, I guess.  The sense of failure at work and how that affects you... the continuing wonder about the relationship between father and son... what it's like to meet a woman who lets you be your own stupid self around her... what it's like to be supported by a woman in whatever you're going through... the amazing liberation of the American road trip, and the overwhelming gift of a good map... the beauty of every place on the great interstates and small roads all across the nation... the relaxing into being cared for by your family, even though they're flawed...

    As for the performances, Orlando Bloom in a movie that's actually set in today's world is rather refreshing to see, and he pulls off a perfect American accent.  Cameron Crowe told him to watch Jack Lemmon in The Apartment to prepare for it... if you know that movie, you'll see it in how Orlando Bloom does this role.  And Kirsten Dunst... she's from the next town in New Jersey from where I grew up... how can I not love that?  She's one of the best young actresses we have right now, and she does this justice.  The rest of the cast (with the exception of Jessica Biel... I'm just not into her at all, in anything she does.  Shame she was the love interest in an otherwise perfect The Illusionist...) is funny and subtle and wonderful as they should be.

    I do want to spend a moment trying to describe the state-of-mind you should be in when you watch it.  Don't bring expectations to it.  Don't try to put it in a box like other movies and then wonder why it didn't behave like other movies.  To me, it's a little over-the-top, a little silly, and that's on purpose.  At least give Cameron-fucking-Crowe credit that he meant to do that... it's not an accident, and he didn't forget how to direct a movie.  It has some over-the-top somewhat unrealistic large scenes, but that's OK... it's just a movie, they're supposed to be that way.  It's not a traditional romantic comedy (although there is romance and comedy and drama); it's sort-of cartoonish in spots but in a really good way if you allow it to be.  It starts with death and ends with life... it starts with broad strokes and narrows and focuses to the personal.

    And if you've never been on a road trip across the United States with a bunch of music or some good mix tapes, you won't understand that sequence.  But if you have... you'll know why all of it was pitch-perfect.  I used to bring a 96-CD rack that would ride shotgun as I drove.  The hardest part of packing wasn't the clothes, it was the music.  For the record, when I die and get cremated, I'd like my ashes spread in a similar roadtrip across the United States.

    And maybe I just want to find a Claire.  It could be as simple as that.  But if you want to know a bit about me, watch this movie.

    It might not change your life, but it's the most personal story told by one of the great directors of our time, and for that alone it's worth understanding.

    God, I want a road trip.  I don't care how much gas costs... it's worth every penny for that sensation of falling in love with the nation one mile at a time.

    Remember when, if you couldn't have children, that was taken to be a sign that your genes weren't actually healthy enough to be passed on?  You know, the way it works with every other animal species on the planet?

    Well, let's celebrate the miracles of modern medicine, and the unbelievable fixation most people have on sexual reproduction.  It all adds up to a multi-billion dollar industry dedicated to trying really hard to see that people who genetically shouldn't have children have them anyway.

    And not only are we supposed to be impressed with this, we're supposed to feel sorry for those who have finally given up on fertility treatments, after emptying their bank accounts on it.  This makes my head explode.

    Having biological offspring is not a right.  If your genetics are not fit to be passed on... that's a really strong sign from the universe that you shouldn't have children.  Isn't it?!?  Am I crazy?

    I'm just really getting sick of seeing stories about couples who spend years "trying" only to get more and more frustrated.  It's a story they told themselves about the way their lives would go... if it doesn't happen, you have to deal with it just like you dealt with the fact that you settled down and bought sensible cars and got a Costco membership card.

    Sorry, this is pure rant, but in a world where there actually are so many children up for adoption who would thrive in a loving home, seeing all of that money and time and worry spent on trying to get around the strong hint from Nature makes me sick.  If you want a child in your house (and, let me be clear, I do not) then there are plenty to choose from.

    I suffer from the typical American disease of living in overwhelming abundance, but somehow feeling like I'm not.  I think I suffer from it less than many other people around me do (especially the ones who watch HGTV and home improvement shows all day every day), but it's there.

    What makes me get that idea out of my head, though, is to realize that I have everything I need.  And I do.  The couple of things that I want right now are just that -- I want them, I think it would be nice to have them, but I don't need them.  I have plenty of money for food, for having a lovely place to live, for gasoline, I already have the entertainment devices I want... I'm doing fine.

    Andrew Cohen points out that almost everyone in America lives better than royalty did a few hundred years ago.  We're relatively healthy, we have clean running water, electricity, entertainment, shelter, food, etc.  It's only through realizing the abundance all around us that we can stop feeling like we need more.

    The other answer I'll give is the answer that Tony Robbins gives to how to stop feeling depressed:  be grateful.  Spend a moment and think of how grateful you are for your loved ones, for your friends, for your job, for your house, for the food you eat, for the people who work at the stores you shop in, etc.  It's an embarrassment of riches, so overwhelming that I hardly feel like I deserve it.

    I handle change the same way everyone does... poorly.

    It throws me off-balance.  It makes me unhappy.  It makes me question myself.  It makes me second-guess my decisions.  It makes me wish for more stability.

    And then I get over it, and I move on until the next bout of change occurs.

    Now, I know this is the process, and I intentionally put myself into situations where it's going to happen, because even though I whine about it while it's going on, it's necessary for growth, and I almost always look back with appreciation for the experience I went through.

    Doesn't mean I handle it gracefully as it's happening, though.  :-)

    I find it everywhere, but not in an obvious sense.

    For the purpose of this question, I'm going to define "art" as occurring anywhere that one makes a choice about how to do something that isn't scripted.  In other words, if you're just doing something that you already know how to do, and you're just going through the motions, there's no art there.  If you're faced with a choice about how to do something that isn't by rote, if you have to think about it for a moment before you act, if you have to consider the effects of the choice you make in how you do something... that's art to me.  Art is the activity of using one's free will to make a choice about how to do something.

    With that definition... I see art all around me.  I wonder about so many things around me.  Why did the architect choose to shape the building like that?  Why did the musician choose exactly that fill in that spot?  Why did the landscaper choose that set of flowers?  Why did that woman choose to buy that handbag?  Why is that programming API structured the way it is?  Why did the brewmaster choose to make this beer exactly this way?  Why is this web page covered in shades of violet?  Why does the laptop I'm using have exactly eight rubber bumpers on the monitor where it closes down on the chassis?  Why did Kobe Bryant choose to attack the basket in exactly that way during that last play?  Why did the manager choose to talk to the employee in just that way?  Etc.

    All of these, to me, are artistic choices.  At some point, someone had to use their creative faculty to decide how to do something.  Even if the exercise of creativity was fleeting, or perhaps even if there wasn't a lot of realization that choice was involved... it was.

    This is why programming is an art to me, not a science.  It never will be a science.

    The chaos of the world is driven by individual human beings making choices.  That chaos is driven to order through those choices.  There's no magic, there's no man in the sky looking down making sure everything goes according to plan, and there are no big conspiracies... in order to believe in those, you have to not believe in the power of people making choices.

    I haven't blogged about Tim Russert's passing, not because it hasn't deeply affected me, but only because everyone else has already said everything I could have wanted to say about it.  I'll note particularly Peggy Noonan's column where she points out that the coverage has not been overblown at all; it's been commensurate with the greatness, and goodness, of the man:

In a way, the world is a great liar. It shows you it worships and admires money, but at the end of the day it doesn't. It says it adores fame and celebrity, but it doesn't, not really. The world admires, and wants to hold on to, and not lose, goodness. It admires virtue. At the end it gives its greatest tributes to generosity, honesty, courage, mercy, talents well used, talents that, brought into the world, make it better. That's what it really admires. That's what we talk about in eulogies, because that's what's important. We don't say, "The thing about Joe was he was rich." We say, if we can, "The thing about Joe was he took care of people."

The young are told, "Be true to yourself." But so many of them have no idea, really, what that means. If they don't know who they are, what are they being true to? They're told, "The key is to hold firm to your ideals." But what if no one bothered, really, to teach them ideals?

After Tim's death, the entire television media for four days told you the keys to a life well lived, the things you actually need to live life well, and without which it won't be good. Among them: taking care of those you love and letting them know they're loved, which involves self-sacrifice; holding firm to God, to your religious faith, no matter how high you rise or low you fall. This involves guts, and self-discipline, and active attention to developing and refining a conscience to whose promptings you can respond. Honoring your calling or profession by trying to do within it honorable work, which takes hard effort, and a willingness to master the ethics of your field. And enjoying life. This can be hard in America, where sometimes people are rather grim in their determination to get and to have. "Enjoy life, it's ungrateful not to," said Ronald Reagan.

Tim had these virtues. They were great to see. By defining them and celebrating them the past few days, the media encouraged them. This was a public service, and also what you might call Tim's parting gift.

    It is with some shame that I admit that I didn't value Tim Russert's contributions to our nation as much as I should have, until after I realized we'd never have them again.  It is with great relief that I learn today that Tom Brokaw will shepherd Meet The Press through the election season, making sure that the legacy of his friend and colleague is well taken care of.


    And then, tonight, I read of the death of George Carlin, someone who, in one sense, could not be more opposite from Tim Russert, and yet who served what he saw as the truth as effectively as he knew how, and no one did it better, ever.

    George Carlin was a writer first, and a wordsmith, and I love that about him.  My favorite author is Henry David Thoreau, and for much the same reason... no one has done with the English language what Thoreau did, and no comedian (with the possible exception of Dennis Miller) has been more careful about choosing exactly the appropriate words at exactly the right time as George Carlin.  They both saw themselves as part of the same society that they made such a point of criticizing, I think.

    I first fell in love with his comedy when I was 12 years old, I think.  I memorized "The Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television", and I even memorized the extended version on Carlin At Carnegie, along with lots of other of his routines.

    I certainly don't share a lot of George's point-of-view on the world... he was an avowed Atheist, and saw little inherent meaning in life.  It amuses me right now to know that he's probably weirded out while experiencing* that Atheism turns out not to be the correct point-of-view on the universe... of course, his criticism of religion was Orange shredding Blue.  But even with the differences in worldview, many of his observations of the silliness inherent in American life since the 1960's are spot-on, and no one was more ruthless, and ruthlessly funny, at pointing them out.

    I will miss him, a lot.  We've lost one of our best tonight, someone who did it for over 50 years at the top of his game, through controversy and arrests and Supreme Court decisions.

    Almost everything I think about children and the unbelievably stupid parenting I'm seeing today is summed up in these seven minutes:

    Wow, what a funny question....

    It's gotten me this far, so I guess it's OK.  There are parts that are orderly, and parts that are chaotic.  There's a fairly vicious Critic and Judge.  There's a boy who wonders.  There's a man who demands competence from himself, and who doesn't accept feedback as easily as he should.  There's a lot of progressive rock and strange rhythms going on all the time.

    I have a feeling that most people wouldn't feel comfortable inside of my mind... but we all probably think that about ourselves, right?

    I spent a good deal of today waiting for various software products to finish installing.  But that was OK... I had other things to do in the meantime.

    I'm never really bored, I always have something interesting to think about.  Fortunately, I'm also becoming more and more able to stop and be aware of what's around me, and just be present.  It's a habit like any other that you learn, and it's richly rewarding.