On the plus side, things have improved dramatically from the time we didn’t have electricity in El Cerrito. Think camping, but with carpeting. (We didn’t bother trying).

Now, one house has all our books and kitchen crap (except for the baking ingredients– Lazy Susan*– and the contents of the fridge/freezer, some which I plan to bring back tonight, in a cooler). It also has a plastic, air-filled bed with an electric pump. Firm mattress when we go to bed. Soft and squishy when we wake up.

The other house has all our furniture, artwork, personal records, and garbage. Lots and lots of garbage. So many things that have somehow accumulated over the last three years of San Anselmodom.

We spent last night in El Cerrito, and I took the day off today. This morning, I unpacked and worked on assembling the kitchen, before returning to San Anselmo to collect some things (tools, CFLs, other essentials).

Every time all of one’s earthly possessions move from one abode to another, at least one thing is bound to break. Or so it seems.

Just now, I have suffered the first inevitable casualty of our move. And this one is a tragedy. Susie and I purchased a pair of floor lamps at either Target or Walmart– who remembers such things?– for our very first home together in Milwaukee. I think they must have cost something like 24 bucks, together.

They managed to survive a cross-country journey to the dry (as it would turn out… keep reading…) land of California. One of them, a bit misshapen but shining as bright as ever, still has it’s Bekin’s tracking sticker on it.

The other, having lived in the living room for the last 3 1/2 years, was to journey across the Bay tonight. I was tired of living in a dim apartment with wall switches that don’t do anything. So I unscrewed the lamp pole at it’s center-most linkage to bend the lamp in half, and I picked it up.

A cascade of broken plaster chunks and brittle plastic rained upon our San Anselmo carpet.

Apparently, the weight at the bottom, to keep the lamp from regularly toppling, was made of plaster. And it had dried out. Maybe. Or perhaps my twisting action was too much for it.

Either way, I didn’t want to leave our San Anselmo home in the dark by absconding with the remaining floor lamp. And I do not yet have a suitable table in El Cerrito for a table lamp.

So I am bringing this unweighted, slightly unstable lamp with me for the time being.

Hopefully the TV, it’s inevitable journey still unscheduled, travels a bit safer.

*= lazy susan is where the baking stuff is stored, and it is not meant to describe my wife.

It illustrates just about every single smear which the Informal Right Wing Smearers are using to coat the presumptive Democratic nominee.

I agree with just about every official statement (and one reader comment in particular) on the matter…

The Obama campaign: “The New Yorker may think… that their cover is a satirical lampoon of the caricature Sen. Obama’s right-wing critics have tried to create. But most readers will see it as tasteless and offensive. And we agree.”

The McCain campaign: “We completely agree with the Obama campaign.”

The New Yorker Editor David Remnick: “It always occurs to you that things will be misinterpreted or taken out of context. But I think that’s the case of all political satire. The fact is, it’s not a satire about Obama– it’s a satire about the distortions and misconceptions and prejudices about Obama.”

A Huffington Post commenter: “Just the fact that David Remnick has to explain the picture’s message means it has failed as political satire.”

… but the media coverage of this so-called controversy is what’s most offensive (to me); the media, when addressing these so-called “smears,” routinely includes the rumor that Barack Obama is a Muslim as one of these smears.

This false rumor is an untruth, and it’s an untruth that is meant to undermine the Obama candidacy by playing to the fears of some Americans. But to play along with the assertion that “accusing” a man of being a Muslim is “offensive” does nothing constructive– it merely reinforces the ever-dated notion that one’s faith plays a role in one’s ability to govern.

Sadly, it’s clear that we’re decades (at best) away from ever having a Muslim president, let alone a president of a non-Christian faith. In this political culture, it’d be hard to fathom a Mormon or another Catholic president.

The whole B. Obama / H. Clinton thing aside, I figure the Future will show up eventually. But so much for 2008.

The problem seemed especially acute in the San Francisco Bay Area. In Palo Alto, Amy Kawadler said she had been told there was no matzo at the Mollie Stone’s Market, which carries a wide selection of kosher food, but she noticed a lone box making its way down a checkout conveyor.

When she inquired about it, the customer “grabbed it and pressed it against his chest and said, ‘This is my matzo,’ ” Ms. Kawadler said. He directed her to the section where one last box, of onion poppy matzo, remained, resting on the back of a bottom shelf. “I ran with my hands in the air, pumping the box in my hand saying, ‘I got the last box of matzo!’ ” Ms. Kawadler said.

“It was the talk of our seder.”

— Jennifer Steinhauer, “Who’s Hiding the Matzo?”, The New York Times, April 22, 2008

This was not the talk of my seder.

Rather, I showed up rather sheepishly and announced the Great Marin County Matzo Crisis of 2008. My gracious hosts, who proudly eat matzo only one evening out of the year (and in the process add new meaning to the fundamental question: “Why is this night different from all other nights”) offered me their leftover matzo on my way out.

I pointed out that instead of giving me their matzo, they should sell it on Craigslist for $10 a box. Suppy and demand and all that.

But in the Spirit of the Season or something, they collected all the remaining matzos from the table, placed whole wheat and regular side-by-side in a King David matzo box, and bid me adieu.

Later, I found out that my empty-nest parents are matzo hoarders. They bought five boxes back east in the matzo-rich land of Buffalo Grove.

Anyhow, I am not publicly endorsing one candidate or the other (partly because no one cares, but mainly because that would be their political death sentence). Besides, I am probably not voting my true instincts, if you believe ABC News.

A few months ago, I took their “Which Candidate is Right for You” test, or whatever they really call it. I think either Slate, Eric Zorn, or someone else had a list of all the possible tests out there on that Internety-thing– I really don’t remember.

But anyhow, I started taking the test and I remember thinking: “Gee, these are really stupid questions.” Or, just as often, “Okay… these are the only possible answers??”

I did my best to answer them, but a lot of them weren’t really addressing my actual concerns for November 2008 (let alone February). Like, you know, ability to actually administer a superpower government somewhat responsibly.

The last question, most likely weighed as heavily as “Whadaya think about saving the world from war, famine, and inequality?” (I’m in favor) went something like this (and I am completely making this up from my unreliable memory):

Whadaya think is more important in a leader? Executive experience or legislative experience?

Now, I knew where this question was going. Obviously, this would be a point towards Richardson, Huckabee and Romney, and against the Senators Six, although theoretically Clinton lived in the same house as an executive both in Arkansas and Washington D.C. (theoretically)

But I answered truthfully, because all other things being equal, I know that Vision and Execution are two different things, and although you need Vision, the ability to be the C.E.O. of every federal agency might be a bit handy in that ol’ presidential job.

(To clarify, though, even with the current occupant of the White House alleged to have had executive experience, having run Texas (both State and Rangers), I would argue that being a successful executive probably requires the ability to successfully execute GOOD POLICIES, not CRIMINALS.) (end subtle slam at the capitol of capital punishment)

That question probably screwed me the most. Because I clicked through and wound up with the shock of my life.

ABC News projected that the winner of the David Waxman Popularity Contest Among Presidential contenders was none other than Mr. Mike Huckabee!

(A certain prominent Marin County Republican who appeared live on my KRCB Election Night broadcast insisted on calling him Hucklebee, but never mind that now.)

For the record, I do believe in evolution, and while I have been to Arkansas, it was only along Interstate 55 en route to Memphis when I was bored and couldn’t sleep one night in college, and that’s the complete opposite side of the state from Hope.

In other words, ABC News was wrong, I was confused about my own values, and that brings me to Boston. The band, not the city.

It seems that Boston founder and songwriter Tom Scholz is mad at Huckabee for performing “More Than A Feeling” with his band “Capitol Offense” while on the campaign trail.

“Boston has never endorsed a political candidate, and [with] all due respect, would not start by endorsing a candidate who is the polar opposite of most everything Boston stands for,” wrote the angry young old man (wait, that’s Styx… eh, they’re all the same).

In the same letter, Mr. Scholz effectively endorsed Barack Obama.

The Associated Press kindly reminded us of other instances of rock and roll and politics crossing paths. Ah, Boomers, changing the world in oh-so-many ways.

Last week, apparently, John Mellencamp convinced John McCain to stop playing “Our Country” and “Pink Houses” at his rallies.

But Celine Dion is totally into Hillary Clinton playing her music, and U2 doesn’t object to Barack Obama playing its music.

If anything, this seems to prove that the coolest music comes from people who vote for Democrats, but at the same time– in defense of our really cool Republican leaders– artists need to give up a little bit of control. Dude– so what if scary Republicans like your music?

Progressives need to learn that they’re really likable people, and that even Neocons are allowed to like you without giving you cooties or destroying your liberal street cred.

Anyhow, I just downloaded the first Boston album from iTunes, and it is good music.

Here is that same picture, blown up a bit.

As it turns out, we can’t actually see our house, since it is blocked by a tree, but using the Seminary, an ugly apartment building across the street and down the block a bit, and the bank as guides, I can tell you exactly where it is.

Also, now I know why I can’t see Mount Tamalpais from our kitchen window.

I have replaced it with the badge for the official Chicago 2016 Olympic Bid, under the same headline (“The Race Is On”). I figure I want Chicago to get positive global attention, but I don’t actually live there anymore, so I won’t have to put up with the hassle of the Olympics happening locally.

Besides: Chicago’s domestic competition is Los Angeles?? San Francisco, an early opponent, would have been a worthy competitor.

That is, until Mayor Newsom of San Francisco quite embarrassingly got caught with his city’s pants down. The stadium he was proposing to use for the Olympics was going to double as the 49ers’ new stadium as well.

No one bothered to tell this to the 49ers, who decided to (publicly) announce (to everyone’s surprise) that they were actually going to move the team to Santa Clara. Oops.

As it turns out, nothing is certain. Nothing, except that San Francisco is out of the race.

Go, Chicago, go.

Update: Well, the good news is that Chicago beat L.A. The bad news is that the logo has been deemed illegal, so it will need to be revised.

A celebration!

“Marquette University students and staff celebrated Wednesday after their namesake freeway interchange project reopened a key route to the downtown campus,” writes Larry Sandler of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

Yes, it’s true. The Wisconsin Ave. bridge over Interstate 43 in downtown Milwaukee was shut down as part of the Marquette Interchange reconstruction project, a big mess of a project I was lucky to miss out on by strategically moving to California (where they wisely let their roads rot and turn to gravel, before thinking about planning to think about replacing them).

This particular bridge closure was bad news to Marquette students trying to get to the Boston Store, or other Westown institutions like one of several government buildings.

But, fortunately, the bridge is reopened. Sandler writes:

“Students living in nearby Straz Hall have hosted bridge-related events to hail the reopening, [Toby Peters, the university's associate vice president for administration] said.”

But this story turns tragic. You see, all the festivities that were planned didn’t quite happen as planned.

The celebrating students, continued Sandler, had “to convert a card tournament to a game of euchre when they realized that none of them actually knew how to play bridge.”

D’oh.

Seeing this from a good distance, I gracefully slide over to the left lane, and pass the kerfuffle at a safe 15 mph.

In the right lane is a farm vehicle travelling at a rate of speed which one would expect a cow to travel if she were trying to get the hell out of town.

On the shoulder, I see a man galloping at full speed.

A short distance ahead of the man, I could see that which he was chasing: a trio of allegedly Happy Cows (for we all know that Happy Cows Come From California.)

These particular Happy Cows were high-tailing it to Redwood Country for a lovely and relaxing Holiday, I presume.

A 17-year-old youth and a 16-year-old girl who also participated in the murder were sentenced to 8 1/2 and six years in prison because they were juveniles.

The wheelchair was stabbed to death in its apartment in Wilhelmshaven in northern Germany on October 2, 2005, according to judge Dietrich Janssen.

The man in the wheelchair knew one of the group and invited all of them to his apartment. They had been drinking before they attacked and killed his wheelchair and stealing its mobile phones and his wallet.

Man bites dog, anyone? The headline is real. The actual AP story as printed in the San Francisco Chronicle is here.

Furthermore, why is this international news? It’s a tragedy, but I shouldn’t be reading about this in the San Francisco Chronicle. I should be reading about it in the Metro section of the Wilhelmshaven Countryside.