Homeward Bound

Soon, as in, within a few hours soon.

This one has been tough. My first job away, only without the benefits that typically go along with such shoots.



Sometimes, the needs of the one, outweigh the needs few, or the many.

I feel like I took this job for all the wrong reasons; to bolster my resume, despite the warning signs that were clearly on every side, to try to build more of a bridge between the Tulsa and OKC film communities, when, it turns out, there's not really a Tulsa film community at all-only groups of psuedo-intellectuals, nothing closely resembling a competent, hirable CREW.

Money doesn't make a person smart. Or right. Now, more than ever.

For Gertrude

Here's a picture of a picture in the main lodge of Sir Paul. It's not very good, mostly because it was dark and I couldn't take a head on shot without glare from the flash.


I thought you might enjoy these.

xo

This Is Where I Woke Up...

Instead of a hotel, or, as on the last picture, a -gasp- motel, the producers have arranged for us to stay at the Meadowlake Ranch in Sand Springs, just a few minutes from downtown Tulsa.

It's kinda pretty.

Words Don't Come Close

It's going to take me a while to really, completely verbalize everything I've been feeling over the last 24-36 hours. I'll have to address this Brave New World later.

In the meantime, in trying to keep somewhat on theme (Joe's Month of Movies), I'm going to share with you pictures of the Obama Watch party the production team was invited to last night.

We were guests along with a wonderfully diverse group ranging from pre-teen to pre-cambrian in age with every Skittle represented.

Here are pictures of the Kennedy Mansion where the party was hosted.








The bar was catered by Grand Vin Bottle Shop; I did my patriotic part in putting away a great deal of a excellent micro-distillery Bourbon.




















I also met the Senior Minister of All Souls Unitarian Church (the largest Unitarian Church in the world), located in Tulsa. Here is a creative 'update' of The Prodigal Sons story, with a decidedly contemporary twist. It's only about 7 minutes, well worth the time, though.



I'm still emotionally drained and mentally exhausted, partly from the election, the other part from the new production. That was actually the part that was supposed to be fairly consistent with my month's theme: This is what I got to do while I am out of town making a movie. Guess I didn't really make that clear earlier.

Well, I've made today's post with 13 minutes to spare before it'll be time to start on the Thursday post, which is when most anyone will be reading this anyway.

Yes. I. Did.

He is The One.

We Interrupt This Program for An Important Message from Our Sponsor...

THE UNIVERSE

Tired of everything going your way?
In a rut with the same old same old 'someone up there really likes me' kind of days?
How many times do you need to hear "I'm so proud of you, you're doing so well" before you just want to scream?

Just wait, and The Universe can take it all away!
That's right! Just sit back and relax while The Universe reminds you that crappy days are here again!

So the next time you feel like a barefooted Irishman in a pasture of fresh cowpies, let The Universe know by whistling a happy tune, and The Universe will make sure to take away those shoes you were so lucky not to wearin' today!


The Universe, Blowing Up Worlds Since The Beginning of Time (tm).


THIS MESSAGE PAID FOR BY CITIZENS FOR UNIVERSAL TREATMENT

Saw (2004)

Directed by James Wan
Written by Leigh Whannel
Starring Cary Elwes, Danny Glover, Monica Potter, Dina Meyer, Leigh Whannel and Tobin Bell as Jigsaw.
Lion's Gate Films

As it was nearing Halloween and, honestly, to keep up with my daughter's newfound fascination with horror movies, I decided it was high time I see what everyone has called one of the scariest, most original and creative horror flicks in recent years.

I was never a huge fan of the slasher films we grew up on in the eighties, but, since Freddy, Jason and Michael have all but gone away for now (I think I read Rob Zombie is going to bring Jason back-God help us-and the Halloween reboot didn't quite take-again, but for the Grace of God), it seems that at least the first installments of recent fright franchises have, in the least, been creative, and quite conceptually sound. I really 'enjoyed' Final Destination and The Ring downright spooked me. And 28 Days Later blew my mind. More about all of those some other day.

I usually take it as a fairly good sign when there are fairly substanital names involved in a horror picture. It's not always a guarantee that we're in store for a high-minded thriller, but, you have to figure these actors have to look out for their careers while still paying their bills.

SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT!
I only mention this in case someone hasn't seen it yet, even though it's four years old. Anyway, you've been warned.

It starts out interestingly enough; two guys (Cary Elwes and screenwriter Leigh Whannel) wake up chained to pipes at opposite corners of an true shit hole. Between them lies a dead body; face down, holding a tape recorder in one hand and a pistol in the other--a pool of blood coming from an apparently self-inflicted shot to the head.

Naturally, they're confused, frightened and more than a bit distrustful. Each of them finds an envelope in their pockets with a microcassete that reads PLAY ME. After wrangling the recorder from the corpse's hand, they each receive their own personal set of ominous instructions from the unseen captor.

We learn through well paced flashbacks that Elwes (Dr. Lawrence Gordon) was once a suspect in a series of serial murders. The FB's are used to good effect to break up and supplant the potentially indulgent, exposition heavy 'this must be what's going on' scenes; especially in the claustrophobic setting these poor bastards are in. It would have been much easier (and much less effective) to turn this into a yell back and forth at each other, bloody version of Waiting for Godot; the FB's keep this from happening.

We see Elwes as a cold, emotionally distant oncologist who is dismissive of patients and hospital staff alike. One orderly, Zep, tries to point out a patient's name during rounds one day. Not that Dr. Gordon cares. The scene serves as a bright red herring (almost too bright...) as the film progresses.

James Wan and Whannel smartly use narration and voice overs sparingly in the flashbacks; choosing show over tell.

Glover is the obsessive detective who is on Dr. Gordon's tail in the FB and whose manic obsessiveness ultimately saves the good doctor's wife (Monica Potter, who finally looks old enough to drive) and child, who Jigsaw had plans for as part of his 'game'.

The horror comes by way of the psychological cat and mouse that is played out by Jigsaw upon his marks and by Wan on the viewers. Jigsaw (whose name holds very little meaning in overall story) is not an indescriminate psychopath. His motivations are not unlike those behind Kevin Spacey's John Doe in Se7en; the victim's have been chosen very specifically. Unlike the Seven Deadly Sinners though, Jigsaw's game pieces aren't necessarily being punished, but given an object lesson (as our parents would have described it to us) to make them appreciate those things taken for granted and to reconsider shallow, cowardly choices made.

There is plenty of blood, but no gore. It's a mix between tension and just enough shown onscreen to make you afraid of what's happening offscreen.

Bottom line is this: Saw pushes and confuses the boundary between horror film and psychological thriller; between morality play and character study; all the while making you ask yourself questions you never want to have to answer.

NaBloPoMo Here I Come!orJoe's Month of Movies

"There but for the Grace of God, goes God"


~ Herman Mankiewicz, co-writer of Citizen Kane, on Orson Welles, who tried to have Mankiewicz's screenwriting credit removed from Citizen Kane.



I am going to do my damndest to hit a movie a day during this month; not necessarily reviews and not disections either (although some may be both or neither). Most will be personal thoughts, impressions or just little non-sequitor notes.

I'll start tomorrow with Saw, which I finally saw (no pun, seriously) this week in the spirit of Halloween.

For the Record...

...I am NOT Joe the Plumber,

NOR am I Joe Six-Pack.


Although, to be fair in understanding the confusion, I, too, am

1) bald;
2) quite adept at laying pipe; and
3) have been the business end of the demise of a St. Louis share of tin soldiers.

In this Age of Joe-isms, maybe I should take on a new moniker...

Call Me...

Joe Thinksforhimself

You can just call The Enlightened for short.

JOE'S FOR OBAMA-BIDEN!

I'm Joe the Enlightened and I approve this blog post.

Breaking News!!!Reagan Endorses Obama!

World Wide Words:Friday Edition

"Words are sacred. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones, in the right order, you can nudge the world a little."
– Sir Tom Stoppard (born Tomáš Straussler July 3, 1937)


"At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hour. No one knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at night."
– H.P. Lovecraft (August 20, 1890 - March 15, 1937)

Sometimes I Just Need a Little of that Old School Somethin' Somethin'...

And Now...I Feel Better.
Much. Much. Better.

I'm Losing My Patience

With the intellectual laziness that abounds in America. The Big Picture Irony here is that in an age where we have more information available to us than at any other time in human history, we, as a nation, seem to think that we can absorb, by some kind of pop culture osmosis, everything we need to know about an event, an issue or a candidate by only reading headlines or only listening to sound bites.

Why do reporters even bother asking questions anymore? Rarely is an actual response to the question posited ever given; rather, the interviewee pounces on the first keyword they hear and proceed to paraphrase or, more often, regurgitate an oft rehearsed tangental self serving essay that digs about as deep as a spork would into permafrost.

John McCain should be ashamed of himself. He has traded the lives and memories of his fellow POW's, those who returned from Southeast Asia and especially those who did not, for a non-responsive and increasingly foolish sounding 'get out of interview free card'.

On The Tonight Show tonight, Jay Leno and McCain traded softballs and semi-updated takes on Henny Youngman's act in a pre-taped segment until Leno, the good little sychophant, told McCain that he'd give him $1,000,000 dollars if McCain could tell him how many houses he actually owns, to which McCain replied....wait for it when I was a POW for five years, I didn't have a home, I didn't have a kitchen table. Because that's the answer we were all hoping he'd give, right?

Just as Guiliani and Bush became incapable of uttering a statement in public that didn't include the words 'terrorism' and '9/11', so has McCain achieved the same level of moronic and malicious betrayal of the American public's respect for those who have served and sacrificed for their country, by now constructing each sentence, for which does not have a campaign worthy approved vomit point, with POW at it's core.

Here is an example of McCain directly sticking it to a fellow veteran while directly avoiding that dreaded Republican kryptonite--The Truth.



Please watch this entire video and ask yourself this: Why should McCain's former POW status matter to us, since it seems to mean so little him?

Oh Dear.

The idea of karaoke at a Hudson's doesn't seem quite as bad. Now...

Ruth Buzzi Would Be Proud

School's In

Today my beautiful, brilliant daughter enrolled in her new, public school out in God's Country.



It's one of her mother's alma mater's, kind of. Squirt is in 8th grade, but the junior high building there is the former high school building. She has a brand new, state of the art, ginormous high school to look forward to in a couple of years.

Her principal is an old classmate and friend of her mother, and I've already had to point out to her that his first name is Mister, not Dee.

She called me and gave me her list of classes: AP Literature and AP Language (natch), (regular) Math, Earth Science, American History, Life Skills (new millenium Home Ec) and P.E.

She chose the regular math as opposed to the AP Math because "it could be hard, Daddy!"

So...I gave her one of those talks with her...

Plus, she's going to find out that lockers, changing classes, a 10 point grading system (90-100, not 93-100), school dances and drug tests aren't the only differences between private and public school. She's going to be a bit ahead of her classmates. The teacher to student ration is good at the new school, but not nearly what she has been used to.

She'll be fine. She'll be the same kind of social hybrid anomoly that both her mother and I were in school. Her mom was the drop dead gorgeous, smart as a whip popular girl that everyone wanted to be near. I was everybody's favorite goofball genius who got along with everyone, from jocks to the socially off-the-radar 'freaks' (I was, and am, I suppose) a combination of all of them.

She's already made the cheerleading squad and qualified for a national award through summer cheer camp. So, she's starting off with a leg up than I did when we moved around with the wind thanks to the oil field back in the day.

I may discuss my transition to her move here soon. I'm still deep in the middle of a combination of stark denial and stark-raving freakout.

I'll keep you posted.

My Life As An Apartment

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

~ Leo Buscaglia

...Because I'm An Idiot Manchild

I somehow forgot a few other concerts that Gertrude and I have seen. Again, probably because I'm a dumb boy.



Harry Connick, Jr., in Dallas on the She tour, I was hoping for tuxedo and big band, he was in his black jeans and fusion funk band stage.



Tori Amos, I'm pretty sure this was the Cornflake Girl tour. The program had a foreward by Neil Gaiman which started with "Hi, by the way" Tear in Your Hand is Gertrude's ringtone on my phone to this day.



Bobby McFerrin (on the Hush tour, sadly, Yo-Yo Ma did not visit OKC with him)

I think that may be it, bringing our 17 year-ish associated total to 6 if you believe my recollections. Hell, there are probably a couple others waiting to tap me on the shoulder as soon as I hit "Publish Post"

In any case, not nearly enough.

One More Thought...

Gertrude and I have only gone to 3(!) concerts together over the years, but Boy, have they been doozies:


Frank


Lyle


and now John Cougar

We need to do this more.

The Cougar Has Landed!

What a great show! Absolutely fantastic, kids! Johnny came knockin' with his fiddler AND the acordian player. So immediately Gertrude and I were all "Oh, it's on! The only entourage regret I have (and he should be feelin' this) is that his sassy POP SING-AAAAH backup gals weren't there.



He started off with Pink Houses which got everyone to their feet. Cheater.

It was more of an "Everyone get up and enjoy this show" than a shove my new album down your throat show. He played 4 songs from the new album by my count, including the powerful "Jena".

Our boy ripped the roof off the dump several times, but when he kicked the everlovin' shit out of "Crumblin' Down" , I swear, if you were dead a week, you still would have had to get up and sing along.

My favorite was "Rain on the Scarecrow" which he and the band blasted out (4 guitars plus bass) completely electric. Goosebumps and welled up eyes on that one, folks. Always one of my favorites and, for me, his most personal and painful narrative. (I'll save the story of my great-grandfather, the peanut farmer from Eastern Oklahoma, for later)

Gert and I were both extremely disappointed that "Rumbleseat" and "Ain't Even Done With the Night" were left off the set list. There were plenty others I would have loved to have heard ("When Jesus Left Birmingham", "Pop Singer" , "What if I Came Knockin'" but, in all honesty, if he played MY setlist, he wouldn't be finished until Sunday afternoon.

Gertrude was screaming for "Cherry Bomb" when we were riding the escalator up to our seats, and, Bless Her Heart, he didn't deliver that one, either.

Overall, just fantastic! Love that I got to watch him with Gert, he's always been 'one of our guys'; Love that Gertrude scored us the tickets months ago, way before time together was as scarce as it's become. Just a wonderful night.

Thank You, Gertrude.

Here are a couple that I found that I couldn't resist linking: Johnny with The Man in Black hisself, and one with Paul Simon (I actually remember seeing this on NBC waaay back when, Dan Ayckroyd and John Candy hosted some otherwise silly thing-this obviously was great, LOVE their version of The Boxer)

I'm exhausted. From the show and from linking all those damn videos. Main reason I didn't mention any more song titles...I'm spent.

Cougar Alert!

Gert and I are goin' down to the Ford Center (insert product placement/sponsorship here) to see Johnny Cougar anoche, kiddos! Can't wait! File this under 20 years too late, but not a minute too soon. Face time without being on the clock from the Rumble Seat.



I'm not as present here as I'd like to be, and I know I've mentioned several times " how much more I want to post" and I Will . I've got quite a few saved, just not published, that I've been trying to edit to death for months. But this is one that doesn't take my ridiculous scrutiny to put out there. I've been looking forward to this since before face time with Gert became such a premium, now it's even more prescient.

I'm trying not to be too hopeful about the set list. I know he's got the new album out, and it's good, I really like it. So, I'm sure he'll split it up, either new one, old one, or new in the first half, old in the second, but there's so many to choose from that I'm telling myself, whichever ones he chooses will be fine by me.

Then, tomorrow night, there's Saturday Night in the Little Big Town with Zelda and hopefully Gertrude, too. I can feel my arteries clogging already from the Eischens Fried Chicken already. Gotta get me some of the bread and butter pickles, while I'm there.



I found an account of a transplanted first-timer's account of Eischens here. For the uninitiated, this is a pretty good example of what it's like. Except for the Uglyhoma crack.

Enjoy the weekend.

A Difference of Opinions...

"One reason I don't drink is that I want to know when I am having a good time."
-- Nancy Astor Viscountess Astor, (1879 – 1964)
First woman to serve as a Member of Parliament


















I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day.
--Francis Albert Sinatra, Chairman of the Board, (1915 - 1998)

The Joe Ultimatum

We are continually faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as insoluble problems.
-- John W. Gardner

The best way out is always through.
-- Robert Frost

These were here to greet me as I woke and checked my glut of daily necessaries waiting for me. Most days I have to pass them by for later, but today (of all days) I peeked.

Gertrude alluded to my goings on yesterday, so I will elaborate.

The film I worked on last summer is coming back to town for reshoots and pickups. Mostly exteriors (which we ran out of time and money for first time around), but also some new pages to clear up and better flesh out certain story points that rough screenings exposed. Anyway...

Last year, I had a different boss that was incredibly supportive (to the point that when it came time to make the decision to take the gig or not, and I was worried about the constant workload I wouldn't be around to handle, she told me she'd fire me if I didn't take it); this year, different boss with a different attitude.

When I first talked to to her about taking the job, I told her that these gigs would come up from time to time, as well as my eventual plans to segue into a parallel part of the family law biz (mediation); to both, she said no problem, we'd find a way to work it all out.

I got the call a couple of weeks ago that the production was starting up again and I told her straight away. Her first reaction was 'Well, I don't like it. We'll have to talk about it.'

Every couple of days since then, at times when little else was swirling around (which aren't that common, but they happen), I'd broach the subject again. Each time I received a variation of 'Yes, we do need to talk about that, don't we?'

Monday, I left a note in her box, raising the fact that it was almost soup, let's figure this out while there's still time.

Nothing.

Yesterday, when talking about plans for Squirt's 13th Birthday today (another post later about that), she asked, 'Say, what ever happened to that movie thing?

To which I replied (in the passively aggressive, smartass fashion that comes naturally at times like these) 'Oh, yeah. I start Monday, we should talk about that'.

Throughout the rest of the day, I let the full details of the schedule and my unavailability trickle out.

Then came the end of the day.

And she laid all of her cards out on the table all at once.

She didn't like it. Did I not want this job? What was she supposed to do if I were to be gone for 2 weeks?

Blah. Blah. Blah.

And then, she fell fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a land war in A~th~sia, but only slightly less well-known is this:

Don't bluff Joe Banks unless you have the courage of your convictions.

She: You know this won't work. You're going to have to choose, the Film or this Firm.

Me: If those are my only two choices, there's nothing left to talk about. I'm sorry this didn't work out.

She: ... (lather, rinse, repeat for 15 seconds or so)

Me: (getting up from my chair)

She: We'll need to talk about this when you get back.

Honestly, it was pretty silly. She pays me to exactly what I did. Call bluffs, set trip wires to determine their determination, Good Cop/Bad Cop and the like.

So, I'm working half a day today, celebrating my daughter's 13th birthday on Friday, the Freaking 13th(!) and wiping my computer of all items possibly personal.

Y'know, just in case.

Enjoy your day.

I certainly will.

(Yesterday Was) Monday Monday

It was Monday all around yesterday...

But first, our story starts when I got a surprising call from Squirt, the progeny, Saturday afternoon.

Squirt: Hey, Daddy? I wanna run something by you.

[mall noises in background]

Me: (after a a snickering pause at how much her opening sounded like her mother) Okay, shoot.

S: (after a long way around the bush, VERY Joe-like ramp up to her eventual point, which made me snicker) What would you think about me getting my cartilage pierced?

[Keep in mind, that even though she's 12, she is getting ready to move to a new school--a public school, for the first time in her life--AND that she's my daughter...this didn't seem too out there, to me, at least ]

Even though I'm a very would-rather-have-my-head-in-the-sand-about-certain-things kind of dad, and that, if it were up to me, she'd be wearing a turtleneck bathing suit to the pool, this didn't bother me at all.

So, I told her 'yes' and listened to her be both surprised and excited, then told her to call me after it was done even though I'd probably be able to hear when it happened, what with the Mall they were at being only 5 or so miles away.

Squirt calls back a scant 5 minutes later.

Me: Already done?

S: Noooo(!)

Me: Wha'hoppen?

S: There's some stupid law now that won't let you get your cartilage pierced at the Mall. So, we're just gonna go to 23rd Street Body Piercing later.

So, she was disappointed, but wound up going to see Sex and the City with her mother as consolation.

Cut to: Yesterday afternoon and now they are on their way to get the top of her ear pierced, she called and was just about twice as excited as she had been Saturday. So, I tell her to call me when they're just a few minutes away, and if I could break away from Downtown, I'd hustle over to be there when she got it done.

Wasn't able to make it down there, and it's just as well. She called back with the news:

S: Auuuuuugh! I hate all these stupid laws!

Me: ???

S: Now, we find out that you have to be 16 (!) to get your cartilage pierced!

Me: Did you call them to find out first if there was anything else you needed to know after what happened at the Mall Saturday?

S: We called. But, um, not about that.

Me: What did you call about?

S: What time they opened.

Me: Uh-huh...well, that sucks, Squirt. I know how much you were looking forward to having it done.

S: Mom's gonna check out what the laws are in Texas...

But, it wasn't a total loss for her, as (another) consolation, she talked her mom into letting her get her lobes pierced again. This now makes 3 sets on either side. That'll do, Squirt. That'll do.


Here's the way My Monday started...

I grabbed my watch, wallet, etc., heading out the door this morning; got keys, lighter, smokes, check, check, check. Pens!
Grabbed the 2 I've been using most lately from the edge of the desk, slip them into my shirt pocket, off to save the world.

Got to work, poured some coffee, checked my reflection...one of the pens obviously is leaking. Damn! Pulled the offender out, to see if it was broken or otherwise usable...cap was FUCKING OFF! How'd I miss that?

Jeezy Creezy.

Notes on a Move

I am the tired version of Cooter Brown.

My apartment looks like a Garage Sale Bomb went off. Lots of crapnel all over the place. Couldn't be more tired if I was being interrogated at Gitmo at this point.

I was in a bad mood 'cause my back is sore as Marlon Brando's pack mule.

I have a rash or some something that includes breaking out all over my chest, stomach and shaved head that can only have come from napping on my new/old World's Ugliest Free Couch. I'm colorblind and I still find it without any aesthetic value. Evidently it does have some value where the CDC is concerned, though, judging by the map of the Old World that now covers me from noggin to navel.

The transition is a bit different than I expected, although I'm not quite sure what I expected. I don't know where anything goes. Or where it's supposed to go. Or where it should go. If I don't figure it out soon, it'll all just have to go.

It is bittersweet, though. I miss Gert and Noodle and the Lads.

As the title of this ‘blog’ states; Some Things I Know and Some Things I Don’t…

I liberally employ the ellipse as a tool to best illustrate the pauses that occur so often in my daily speech— Sometimes it’s the result of the habit I picked up from letting David Letterman educate my sensibilities past the Late Local News; other times it’s for the presumptive effect that may allow you to think while you’re looking at (and possibly thinking in your not-outside voice) dot-dot-dot…(see there it was again).

Since The Big Move which occurred around the Ides of May, I have found out several Things I Know and Several (more) Things I Don’t…here are the majority of those Things…

I Miss Living With Gertrude. And Noodle. And The Lads. And Manolo (the fish) Desperately.

Sure, if any one of us looks around and makes an honest effort of estimating or itemizing what they may (or may not) like to change about their current situation (whether with or without a co-habitant, roommate, spouse, etc.) we might, at any given time, on any given day, be able to generate a cathartic list that may (or may not) express ALL the things that we could change if said current situation were to , in fact, be altered by the eventual or immediate absence of whomever may be filling the Void as a co-habitant, roommate, spouse, etc.(…) You, the reader, may have done this dozens of times in the past (or maybe even today); I’ll readily (albeit, somewhat sheepishly) admit, that I had made such (a) list(s) before the Ides of May. Even after the News of the Great MortgageVictory, reached my shores, I made a newer, updated, version of such List; and just like the past (make believe) lists, I sat and daydreamed how different things would be…in about 6 weeks. Mind you, I deliberately said/typed different, not better. At first, there are the obvious projected differences…being able to walk around in (or out of) your drawers (if you so choose) [that’s underwear for anyone wondering or needing a reminder this originates from the 47th State], trying a new dishwasher detergent, just to see if the commercial is right, and getting to see what the Sound of Silence holds…
Well, I’m here to tell you, kids, it’s deafening!
There are far too many things to list in context of this (or of us), but, it’s hard to explain the missing of a heartbeat, the white noise, the positive/negative space, the order, the chaos, the routine, the comfort of living with the Best Friend You’ll Ever Be Lucky Enough to Have, without spiraling into a ‘Poor Me’ sounding lament, or an 80’s Power Ballad.

That fear now aside (and with all apologies to Cinderella), I’m in the stages of you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.

Please understand that there’s not one single part of me that begrudges the opportunity that Gertrude has and was able to embrace, or the result of the difficult decision making process that she endured. I couldn’t have imagined a scenario working out more in her favor, all things considered (save an incredibly large sack of unmarked bills falling on our former front porch), than she now has before her.

I just didn’t plan very well for this day; emotionally, I mean.

I can feel myself welling up to a point that I will not be able to make sense soon (let alone fulfill the intro to the post promising a list of several items relevant to the theme), so, I will try to sum up my lack of synchronicity with the new Patio-less 63rd Street Living Cubicle Life like this…Life, in all it’s Glory and with all it’s Challenges, is all in the details.

My life is no more richer for being able to buy any one specific brand of toilet paper or margarine, or the so-called ‘freedom’ to walk around in various states of undress, or any other newfound changes I’ve experienced in this transition; in fact, in a black and white, red or blue world, between the choice of happy or unhappy, for the moment, I have to punch the chad corresponding with unhappy (whether or not that means anything or not to Pat Buchanan).

Regardless of the Immediate Necessity or Eventual Benefit of the Changes Occurring Around the Ides of May, left to my own devices, given my druthers, I’d be back on the Patio with Gertrude in a second.

A letter to Hillary (via Geoff Garin, her new campaign strategy leader)

Even though I've long ago made up my mind and thrown my support behind Barack Obama, I didn't opt out of Hillary's mailing list (as if such a thing is possible in the first place). Today, I received the following message from Geoff Garin, Hillary's new strategist:

Dear Joe,

You've probably heard about some of the big changes going on in Hillary's campaign lately. My name is Geoff Garin, and along with Howard Wolfson, I'm now leading the campaign's strategy team. My job is to plot the path to the nomination and lay out the strategy that will get us there.

There are two reasons why I said yes immediately when Hillary asked me to do this job. First, I believe that the Hillary Clinton I know will be a great president who will do great things for our country. Second, I am confident she can win.

Let me lay out for you the situation as I see it right now. The Pennsylvania primary is approaching -- just four days to go -- and a win there will do two things: give us momentum that will carry us through the races that follow, and show that Hillary is still the best choice to beat John McCain in the big, competitive states that will decide the race in November.

The Obama campaign is outspending us three-to-one in Pennsylvania. But I'm confident we can win in Pennsylvania, and I know Hillary is too. She is campaigning hard and really connecting with the voters there.

The voters in Pennsylvania know that she is the candidate who understands their lives and respects their values, and that every day she will be a president who stands up for them instead of looking down on them.

If I had to point to two of our best weapons in this campaign, one would be the incredible strength of our candidate, and the other would be the phenomenal role people like you have played in sustaining this campaign, even through some pretty tough times. Everyone from Hillary on down has made sure I know about the vital role her online supporters have played in this race.

I made a personal commitment to Hillary that her campaign would be as good and as strong and as smart as she is. And I want to ask you a favor to help me keep that commitment. In the days and weeks (and hopefully months) ahead, I want to know what you think -- about the state of the race, our campaign strategy, or your ideas for doing things differently. You've made an investment in this campaign, and I want your input as we plan the days, weeks, and months to come.

I can't promise that I can reply personally to every single message -- but I can promise to read them all.

Click here to send me your comments, thoughts, and ideas about our campaign.

I'm really looking forward to reading what you have to say, and to working with you to help Hillary win!

Thanks,
Geoff Garin

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So...I bit; clicked and responded as follows:

Mr. Garin,

I am extremely disappointed in the way Sen. Clinton's campaign has been handled and the overall tenor of her message, especially since the primaries and caucuses began.

Hillary's comments during public appearances, interviews and in the debates have been off-puttingly mean-spirited and have seemed, many times, deliberately misleading. I'm not referring to the Bosnia trip description (which the media has overblown), I'm referring more to tactics that have been historically (at least during the last 15 or so years) been the stock in trade of Republicans.

Hilary has been through the public ringer so often since President Clinton's first administration, many times unfairly (Whitewater, Vince Foster's suicide, now NAFTA) that I truly expected a 'high road' campaign from her. It has been very disappointing over these last few months to watch and hear her feed the media's (and to a degree, the public's) thirst for sound bite, no matter how cryptic, 'mostly' accurate or just downright disingenuous (whether or not Obama is a Muslim, his association with Rev. Wright, the elitist charges).

I was particularly offended by Hilary's pandering beer and whiskey shot photo op hot on the heels of Sen. Obama's 'bitter' comment. When was the last time Hillary had a beer, let alone a shot of whiskey? I know it was an attempt to be 'one of the people' and to capitalize on the 'elitist' attack momentum, but it was absolutely grotesque in its execution. It would have come off as much more genuine if Sen. McCain had pulled a stunt like that, because honestly, I can see John McCain drinking beer and shooting whiskey; Hillary I cannot.

I've had enough of the mean-spirited, disingenuous, revisionist and self-serving agendas of the current Bush administration and I don't see anything separating Hillary from the same behavior at this point.

I was very exited about this election and about voting for Hillary. But that was before the campaign(s) began in earnest. After months of 'politics as usual', I cannot in good faith or conscience support Hillary's run for the presidency.

I do not expect a reply as you stated in your e-mail that you may not be able to personally reply to each response, but I do trust that you will read this, as you also stated that you would personally read each one.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Joe Banks from Cincinnati

Amazingly, I received a response from Mr. Garin immediately after clicking 'submit'...

Dear Friend,

Thank you so much for the comments you just sent me. While I am not able to respond to each message personally, I can assure you that I will read every single one. I'm really grateful for everything you are doing to help Hillary win, and I look forward to working with you in the coming days.

Sincerely,
Geoff Garin
Hillary for President

So...Geoff and I went from being on a first name basis to the 'not sure if I really know you at the mall' greeting, 'Friend', which I suppose, is the wonk equivalent of Dude.

I also forwarded the text of my response to the Obama campaign. I'll let you know if an actual person responds from that camp, too.

We Are The Ones We've Been Waiting For...

That was a very strong statement he made towards the end of his speech after Super Tuesday. It's also the title of an Alice Walker book from 2006. Strong words.

I was very moved listening to him speak tonight. And I experienced something I hadn't in years. In fact, it took me a moment to recognize the feeling.

Hope.

Hopeful. Hopefullness.

Or, in the vernacular of the current administration, perhaps Hopefullification, Hopefullnessity or just plain Hopey.

In case you didn't stay up and watch, take a minute (or 22) to watch it all, not just the sound bites that will play out through the next news cycle.



(Hopefully) we can all think back and remember other moments that made impressions on us. For me, there was Ted Kennedy's "Where was George?" speech at the 1988 Democratic National Convention; seeing Alan Alda (in person) speak in support of the Equal Rights Amendment during the summer of 1980 in a stuffy, undercooled conference room at the El Reno Junior College; Ronald Reagan asking a nation "Are you better off than you were four years ago?" (unfortunately, thanks to failure of Penn Square Bank and the subsequent Oil Bust, the answer for my family was 'no'); and Bill Clinton's "I Still Believe in a Place Called Hope" speech accepting the nomination at the 1992 Democratic National Convention and his first inaugural speech in 1993, "There's nothing wrong with America that can't be cured by what's right with America"

Don't. Stop. Thinkin' About Tomorrow. Y'know, Hopeyishfullness.

Directly below is the concession speech that never was...delivered after the New Hampshire primary, which he lost to Hilary Clinton. When we look back in years to come, this may well turn out to be the major turning point in the rhetoric of his campaign.

Doesn't sound like a man who lost anything, except for maybe the fear of losing. (text follows below the player)



We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no
matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can withstand the
power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics who will
only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks to come. We've been
asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against
offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been
anything false about hope. For when we have faced down impossible
odds; when we've been told that we're not ready, or that we shouldn't
try, or that we can't, generations of Americans have responded with a
simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people.

Yes we can.

I want to congratulate Senator Clinton on a hard-fought victory here
in New Hampshire.

A few weeks ago, no one imagined that we'd have accomplished what we
did here tonight. For most of this campaign, we were far behind, and
we always knew our climb would be steep.

But in record numbers, you came out and spoke up for change. And with
your voices and your votes, you made it clear that at this moment - in
this election - there is something happening in America.

There is something happening when men and women in Des Moines and
Davenport; in Lebanon and Concord come out in the snows of January to
wait in lines that stretch block after block because they believe in
what this country can be.

There is something happening when Americans who are young in age and
in spirit - who have never before participated in politics - turn out
in numbers we've never seen because they know in their hearts that
this time must be different.

There is something happening when people vote not just for the party
they belong to but the hopes they hold in common - that whether we are
rich or poor; black or white; Latino or Asian; whether we hail from
Iowa or New Hampshire, Nevada or South Carolina, we are ready to take
this country in a fundamentally new direction. That is what's
happening in America right now. Change is what's happening in
America.

You can be the new majority who can lead this nation out of a long
political darkness - Democrats, Independents and Republicans who are
tired of the division and distraction that has clouded Washington; who
know that we can disagree without being disagreeable; who understand
that if we mobilize our voices to challenge the money and influence
that's stood in our way and challenge ourselves to reach for something
better, there's no problem we can't solve - no destiny we cannot
fulfill.

Our new American majority can end the outrage of unaffordable,
unavailable health care in our time. We can bring doctors and
patients; workers and businesses, Democrats and Republicans together;
and we can tell the drug and insurance industry that while they'll get
a seat at the table, they don't get to buy every chair. Not this
time. Not now.

Our new majority can end the tax breaks for corporations that ship our
jobs overseas and put a middle-class tax cut into the pockets of the
working Americans who deserve it.

We can stop sending our children to schools with corridors of shame
and start putting them on a pathway to success. We can stop talking
about how great teachers are and start rewarding them for their
greatness. We can do this with our new majority.

We can harness the ingenuity of farmers and scientists; citizens and
entrepreneurs to free this nation from the tyranny of oil and save our
planet from a point of no return.

And when I am President, we will end this war in Iraq and bring our
troops home; we will finish the job against al Qaeda in Afghanistan;
we will care for our veterans; we will restore our moral standing in
the world; and we will never use 9/11 as a way to scare up votes,
because it is not a tactic to win an election, it is a challenge that
should unite America and the world against the common threats of the
twenty-first century: terrorism and nuclear weapons; climate change
and poverty; genocide and disease.

All of the candidates in this race share these goals. All have good
ideas. And all are patriots who serve this country honorably.

But the reason our campaign has always been different is because it's
not just about what I will do as President, it's also about what you,
the people who love this country, can do to change it.

That's why tonight belongs to you. It belongs to the organizers and
the volunteers and the staff who believed in our improbable journey
and rallied so many others to join.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no
matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can withstand the
power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics who will
only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks to come. We've been
asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against
offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been
anything false about hope. For when we have faced down impossible
odds; when we've been told that we're not ready, or that we shouldn't
try, or that we can't, generations of Americans have responded with a
simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people.

Yes we can.

It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the
destiny of a nation.

Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail
toward freedom through the darkest of nights.

Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and
pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.

Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the
ballot; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality. Yes we can to opportunity and
prosperity. Yes we can heal this nation. Yes we can repair this
world. Yes we can.

And so tomorrow, as we take this campaign South and West; as we learn
that the struggles of the textile worker in Spartanburg are not so
different than the plight of the dishwasher in Las Vegas; that the
hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are
the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we
will remember that there is something happening in America; that we
are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people;
we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter
in America's story with three words that will ring from coast to
coast; from sea to shining sea - Yes. We. Can.


And here is Obama's Sax on Arsenio moment. will.i.am (surprisingly) inserted very little of himself in this and let Obama's words and the artists he assembled sing/present those words for themselves.




The video and will.i.am's story behind it are here.

There are so many things to process about tonight. Even more once the spin starts where everyone can hear it in the morning. I have many more thoughts.

Things to Think About Thursday: Resolute for Me!

This may be like (somewhere between) opening Pandora's Box and handing over the Keys to the Kingdom, but here it is...

Pick My New Year's Resolutions for Me.

I'm not asking because I don't care, or don't want to take the time, I want honest answers from Those Who Know what I do and don't do well or at all.

Even if you don't know me from Adam or from anywhere but here and on related pages, let 'er rip, Chip!

This is a Waiver of Repercussions to speak freely and to map it all out.

If nothing else, it'll give lots of springboards for other posts, eh?

What I Know Wednesday: People Who Work in Glass Offices...

...Shouldn't Sleep at Their Desk.

I'm walking around the block during my post-lunch cigarette at The New Firm (it's a fairly new thing that I've tried to adhere to since joining the office; I've lost my 4+ block round trip walk to the courthouse and we're on the first floor, so this is a ersatz solution to the now missing daily heel-toe'ing) and as I near the northeast corner of Leadership Square I notice an Old Fella, 60ish, sitting calmly and checking his eyelids for leaks. Intently.

That, or he was dead.

If it was the latter, then he has either incredible post-mortem balance or rigor has already set in. If the former, then I'm guessing it snuck up on him, or he just didn't give one.

Either way, Old Fella was out.

I applaud his multi-tasking; get paid while getting rest? I'm all for it. In fact, I've done it many times before, albiet with my office door closed and from the (former) safety of the 8th Floor.

I was very tempted to give the reinforced glass a sound 'whipporwhil' rapping, but, I was afraid if he wasn't actually dead, the shock (and potential embarrassment) of being busted by a stranger on the street might cause Old Fella to stroke out.

Anywho...it was worth the cold walk around the block to see yet another glorious example of the shared human condition...We All Need Naps.