Wednesday, February 26, 2003

Overview of moving a Radio blog to a new host A friend planning a host change (from an address based on usernum to a custom domain name) asked me for advice on making the move. Based on my own experience, I tossed off a list of things to do roughly in order. Warning: I may have left out something crucial! This list is a work in progress, which I will update with suggestions or my own emendations over time. These are broad steps and I didn't include any details or gotchas involved with each step, but I will elaborate on any specific step in future posts. I've already promised to explain using FTP to upstream to a different host/address, which is one of the items in this list: Find a server to host your site. it. Register new domain and point DNS to your new host. Make backup of the old site. Narrate the process to some extent in your blog (telling people you're about to move, to expect some possible discontinuity, and what the new address is going to be). Think about any changes to the template at the "old" site you might want to make (like a sign on every page pointing to the new address). Make a second copy of your design theme and modify it to be the design for the "old" site. Switch to the new "old address" theme. Post your farewell message. Replace the RSS (news feed) file with one that includes the forwarding address. Republish your site at the old location – will take a while. Set up Radio to know about your FTP address and password. Switch the theme back and tell Radio to use FTP now. Republish the site to the new location. Check for things that did not switch over right (navigator links, etc. – there are some known issues) and fix them. I added this as well: From then on you can use Radio the way you always had except now you are hosting the pages (except the old pages), you can probably see more direct, complete traffic stats, you have to cover the bandwidth if you get instalanched, etc. If you decide to switch to a different blog tool at any point, that will be a separate operation. Lastly, after moving you may discover there's still stuff at the old site that you want to change (I did). If that happens, I devised a "back door" method for posting stuff at the old location, so I can help you with that. 10:43:33 AM    say what []

i didn't do it! been blogging too much lately, need to inhale a bit, step back, tighten the filter, play some cards closer to the chest, work offline. but stream of jottings notes, nonincriminating, can easily to publicly or privately. any reason to publish raw stream? so anyway, the cowgirl attributes an upskirt beaver shot to me to the detriment of the actual artist, so i get a lot of windfall traffic today (hello!). i hope my recent-ish content is entertaining because i'm tapped out at the moment. when did "... i got nothing" cross over from comedian jargon to ordinary conversation? transmitted by seinfeld? just thought of an idea for a nonfiction book i should probably pitch to my agent before blabbing about to whomever's listening in. still, now i feel obliged to make (to fark?) a nudie shot for my favorite misunderstood fringe culture blogger who happens to be female and happens to gravitate toward the enormity of the pr0n fringe. note to lazyweb, what good are macros or shortcuts if i'm too lazy to set them up? i'm tired of typing <a href= and of the fact that i really had to type ampersand l t semicolon to make an open bracket show through. this stuff is still way too geeky. 10:32:28 AM    say what []

SRO   6/2/2003 HOLLYWOOD HIGH It sounded fun. Really. No, really. The [base "]Cabana Beauty Buffet[per thou] where LA[base ']s best and brightest Hollywood Stars and Stars-To-Be come for a day of free beauty treatments and complimentary products. One is held before the Oscars and the other is held, well, now - the two days before the MTV Movie Awards. Sarah (my friend and adopted little sister who has started a soft drink company, Lolli[base ']s Pop) had secured a [base "]booth[per thou] at the event to hand out bottles of LP, t-shirts and other paraphernalia to promote her company. I went Wednesday to help her set up and the first day of the two-day event to support her. This Cabana was held at a swanky (expensive) Hollywood Mansion complete with indoor pool and breathtaking view of the city. I eventually learned the House had a limitless number of roommates and was bought by a young man who[base ']d struck it big during the dot.com boom. When we arrived on Set-Up Day, I can safely say I was the oldest person there. The girls were all wearing little skirts and bikini tops while the guys lounged about shirtless in surfer shorts. Everyone was frantic. Correction: the girls were all frantic while the guys were drinking beer and jumping in the pool. It was like a MTV Spring Break House without the wild dancing. Our refrigerator didn[base ']t arrive and there wasn[base ']t much to do other than mill about and scope what was being given out. One also had to avoid the Evil Chick in Charge (isn[base ']t there always one) who was, to be blunt, a cunt. Eventually part of mingling with the other vendors included trashing the Evil Chick and trading stories about how heinous she was. It was High School redux with cheerleaders from Hell bossing around everyone they could. The next day I arrived and at the entrance I was given a bracelet which separated me into one of three categories. Orange was for press, yellow for guests and lavender for celebrity. I was, of course, yellow and would later discover how vital the bracelets actually were. Basically they were meant to be clues as to how nice to be to someone, the assumption being purples and oranges were more deserving of your attention. The sole other purpose was an ongoing game of [base "]Who was that?[per thou] as in someone with a purple wristband coming over to us and walking away and I got to ask everyone [base "]Who was that?[per thou] Mostly everyone looked like Teens from WB Dramas. Some of the purples had photographers hovering around them and flackies carrying their loot which must have meant something. Some of them seemed vaguely familiar although after awhile Super Skinny Blond Chicks all look alike. There were actually only a few actors I recognized : the actress who played the First Lady on 24, Tom Hank[base ']s son who starred in the flick Orange County, Chris Klein from American Pie and Roseanne Arquette who looked old, old, old and who got a rep for being a cunt amongst the Booths. When I saw her, she was splayed on a lounge chair getting a pedicure while shooting evil rays out of her pussy but of course I didn[base ']t stare. There were [base "]Playboy Models[per thou] walking around in minute bathing suits and spike heels who looked like the aliens from the end of A.I. minus all the curves. I heard from other vendors stories of [base "]stars (*cough* RosanneArquette *cough*) walking up and demanding they be given whatever they wanted. Fortunately I missed these displays. One guy I[base ']d talked to for, like, ten seconds the day before walked over to me and held out his fist to do some Secret LA Guy Handshake thing. I could have been his father. Literally. GUY: Hey Dude. ME: (Surprised yet too stoned to care) Hey. What[base ']s up? GUY: Man, I[base ']m wiped. We went to Dharma last night and that place was a drag. ME: (Having no idea what [base "]Dharma[per thou] is - a restaurant? a club?) I heard it[base ']s like that on Wednesday. GUY: OH MAN! Fuck. The Evil Chick In Charge told us only press could take pictures and we were forbidden to take photos under threat of banishment. Therefore all of these pictures were taken [base "]on the sly[per thou] with me holding my camera nonchalantly near my leg. I figured if caught I could claim senility. Here is Sarah and me and Polly at Sarah[base ']s booth. Polly was very popular and everyone exclaimed how cute and mellow she was. Here is our friend [base "]Alexis[per thou]. He[base ']s actually a costume designer for several award-winning TV shows and this outfit was made expressly for the Beauty Cabana. We spent a large amount of time dishing the poorly chosen outfits of the attendees. I don[base ']t know where young women in LA get their fashion inspiration but my guess is somewhere between Maxim magazine and Porn. Pants hang around 10[per thou] below their belly buttons and the shoe of choice was 6[per thou] mules. Alexis looked prettier than 90% of the women there. This is some rock singer. I have no idea who. He had a British accent and told us that in Thailand they put Opium in Red Bull. I bet. Here is another Rock Singer. I think his band is called Crowded House or maybe Crazy Horse. It was a C word and an H word. Believe it or not, the only people carrying these Japanese Umbrellas were guys with lots of tattoos. This is Chris Klein, the actor from American Pie. I did not see the movie. This is Tom Hank[base ']s son. Didn[base ']t see his movie either. This is the two of them posing for a picture together which is what those people do. I left with two cool t-shirts, one of which says [base "]Whiteboy[per thou] on the back. The other is from the Sea Monkeys booth. Yes, like those little brine shrimp Sea Monkeys. I think the idea was supposed to be Nostalgic Camp which made me feel fossilized. I also left with two candles, one shaped like the head of Buddha with a wick coming out of his skull. I gave my Sea Monkey Executive Kit to Alexis and also a tank top I[base ']d been given. I gave Sarah a mesh trucker hat which is a popular youthful fad also falling in the general area of Nostalgic Camp. I gave each of them a bottle of nail polish I[base ']d gotten from a company named Hard Candy. It[base ']s exhausting fighting Evil, even when evil looks like young pushy girls and B-list actors. It[base ']s exhausting to watch youngsters acting foolish and to realize you probably acted the same way at one time. It[base ']s exhausting to step into someone else[base ']s psychodrama and relax in order to avoid being sucked down into the quicksand. I spent some time talking to a reporter from LA Magazine, a charming woman who had also lived in NYC and was in my general age group. It turns out we knew several people in common and spent a few minutes reminiscing about Manhattan and absorbing the scene around us. She finally turned to me and asked, [base "]Who are these people?[per thou] I don[base ']t think anyone has the vaguest clue. THE DATING GAYME Bravo has announced it[base ']s plans for the first Gay Dating Reality Show called Boy Meets Boy. Supposedly not all of the potential dates will be gay which is (supposedly) the Big Twist. Uh... Gaydar... hello. Unless the main bachelor is Helen Keller, I seriously don[base ']t see the [base "]straight[per thou] dates getting far. Years of being suppressed by society has endowed most gay men with the innate ability to smell Queer Leanings, something We call [base "]pinging[per thou] as in [base "]He pings to me.[per thou] Never doubt the Power of the Ping. I have pinged on characters on Law and Order who aren[base ']t revealed as gay until the second half. Granted I have lived at Gay Ground Zero for all of my adult life but when in doubt, trust your Mo Intuition. Here, however, are my tips and suggestions for all parties involved: 1. Check his shoes. Shoes are something you wear to match your clothes - especially on a date - not something you chose because they help your [base "]game[per thou]. Diesel, Prada, Sketchers - ping. 2. The Golden Rule is [base "]It[base ']s only a date if money passes a waiter[base ']s hands[per thou]. Just a movie, no. Sex in your front hallway, no. Just meeting in a bar, no. Sitting at a table where you[base ']re forced to face and talk to the person you[base ']re with makes it more than just a random event. 3. Ask him about things you[base ']re interested in and know about. He says he likes music, you ask what kind, he responds [base "]Hootie and the Blowfish[per thou], you skip ordering an appetizer and get the Quickie Meal. Alternative music pings, especially if it[base ']s obscure and dance oriented. Heavy metal and Creed do not. 4. Never meet at your house/apartment on the first date. [base "]Let[base ']s meet at my place first[per thou] = [base "]I[base ']m not sure I want to be seen in public with you but I might do a quickie[per thou]. Neutral territory is much easier for a quick escape and you see how he acts in public. You can tell alot about someone by how they treat a waiter. Demanding, arrogant and pretentious aren[base ']t pretty no matter how big his arms are. 5. Always be prepared to pay. If you meet at the restaurant bar first, you can buy the drinks and this releases you from having to offer to pay for dinner and you can go dutch. If he buys the drinks, you can either offer to buy dinner or assume dutch and offer to pay the tip. Tip big - you look good, the waiter[base ']s happy and when you go back to the restaurant with a different date, they[base ']ll great you like a regular. 6. Pings: hair product, has seen every movie, tight shirts, groovy glasses, tasteful minimal accessories other than a watch. Not Pings: cologne, too much jewelry, patterned sweaters. 7. Handshake and [base "]let[base ']s talk soon[per thou] = Not for me, good luck. Kiss on the cheek and [base "]let[base ']s go see (scheduled event)[per thou] = Potential husband. Tongue down your throat and insistence on coming inside with you = [base "]I[base ']m horny now and need immediate gratification[per thou]. Nothing wrong with that but you[base ']re on a date, not a desert island and if neither one of you can control Mr. Weewee for a couple more days, you need to fess up to your motives. Best of luck to them all and I hope someone finds Mr. Right. Call me when they air the show Man Meets Man.

RFB   6/4/2003 Oaktastic. Oakland happy hour wednesday. Deadlines have killed my urge to blog lately. I've been in more of an unblogging mood. But news that Gwen's Ladies (and Gents) Who Lunch is having its long promised post-work happy hour edition this week, Wednesday night have got me back typing into this here teeny text box. Teaser at Finally, a happy hour we can all be proud of. Details to appear Monday. I expect to be there. It's a simple matter. "...a simple matter of implementing the algorithms," said the British-accented voice on NPR as I turned my radio off. Sure, I said, "and of algomenting the implerithms."

Quoth the Raven   5/17/2003 Death and Blogs. In this case, it's us. The Raven bows out now, and hopes you've enjoyed reading this Weblog as much as we've enjoyed writing it. For now, it's time to focus on other things. When the urge to write becomes overpowering, we'll be back. Until then, surf well. Best regards, The Raven The Tax Man. Maybe the Beatles said it best: Let me tell you how it will be, There's one for you, nineteen for me[~] Cause I'm the tax man, Yeah I'm the tax man. Should five percent appear too small, Be thankful I don't take it all[~] Cause I'm the tax man, Yeah I'm the tax man. If you drive a car I'll tax the street. If you try to sit I'll tax your seat. If you get too cold I'll tax the heat. If you take a walk I'll tax your feet. Well I'm the tax man, Yeah I'm the tax man. Don't ask me what I want it for If you don't want to pay some more[~] Cause I'm the tax man, Yeah I'm the tax man. Now my advice for those who die: Declare the pennies on your eyes[~] Cause I'm the tax man, Yeah I'm the tax man. And you're working for no one but me. We noticed that last night that the Senate just squeaked by a $350-billion tax cut bill, which trimmed down the $550-billion cut proposed by the House, and is less than half of Bush's original $725-billion reduction. The Senate proposal has yet to be delivered, however: Senator George Voinovich (R-Ohio), who led the fight to keep the bill's cost to $350 billion, said, "There are going to be some difficult days ahead. We're in the playoffs now, but the World Series is what comes out of conference." There are some nasty provisions in the Senate version, by the way, and while I'm all for cutting taxes[~]I'll explain why in a moment[~]this particular package doesn't look like the best way to do it. Among the bill's highlights: Taxpayers can exclude 50% of their dividend income in 2003. From 2004 through 2006, all dividend income is tax-exempt. The tax is reinstated in 2007. A speed-up in the scheduled reductions in income tax rates. Under the 2001 tax cut law, those reductions would not take full effect until 2006. An increase from $600 to $1,000 for the tax credit families can take for each child. Tax relief for couples who are hit by the so-called marriage penalty. Expanded incentives for small businesses to invest in new equipment. So much for the velvet glove. Now for the iron fist: During the Senate negotiating to pare down the cuts to $350 billion, "the effort to expand the bill's dividend tax relief was the focus of heavy lobbying by GOP leaders and the White House." And somebody has to pay for that. Turns out to be us. Senator Don Nickles (R-Okla.) proposed trimming the tax relief provided for married couples and small businesses by $43 billion. [Democrats] accused Republicans of penalizing married couples to pay for bigger tax breaks for wealthy shareholders. "This is absurd," said Sen. Max Baucus (D-Mont.). "This is irresponsible." The other Gom Jabbar handbox trap is a rather ugly repeal of the $80,000 foreign-income exclusion credit currently affecting Americans who reside overseas. I used to take advantage of that one myself. As the Senate version now stands, even if you live abroad and pay income taxes to a foreign government, all of your income will now be considered fully taxable U.S. income. Ouch. Senator John B. Breaux (D-La.) tried to add an amendment to drop this provision. Breaux said that would undercut an important incentive for workers to accept jobs overseas. Many Republicans shared Breaux's opposition to the tax increase but voted against his amendment because he proposed paying for it by scaling back the dividend tax cut. These three items: marriage-penalty relief, small-business assistance, and foreign-income exclusion should not have been sacrificed like this to allow dividend tax elimination. The House version, which simply would have scaled back dividend tax relief to the first $500-worth of income seems the better idea. But why cut taxes at all? There are several good reasons. For one thing, we've observed a generally burgeoning role in Federal influence across the board over the past few decades, with a concomitant reduction of state authority. Far from being a bureaucratic blip, this reorganization has the very significant effect of reducing individual political authority: State government is more reactive to local government[~]where you and I have more control. While excruciatingly painful to a number of constituencies, eventually the states will be forced to re-adopt a number of functions they've relinquished to the Federal level. Another matter is simply bureaucratic logic. When a program, a department, an institution, or a layer of bureaucracy is established anywhere, it tends to grow of its own accord. Every dollar allocated to such a body will be spent. As far as government goes, it is a general truism that there is no such thing as a surplus. "But we had a Federal surplus under Clinton," you might argue. Yet there was no surplus[~]only the potential for one. Every extra dollar envisioned in the latter half of the '90s as accruing in the future would surely have been earmarked and promptly spent. The only way to reduce the size and cost of government is to choke off the money stream that feeds it. Yet another matter is "the economy," which we'll define here as the stock market indices, the unemployment rate (or number of jobs available), the value of the dollar, the GDP, inflation, and rates of personal savings. You might also add heavy equipment and durable goods orders and building starts. It may be that reducing Americans' tax burden will result in an upswing in these indicators to our benefit. Since I'm not an economist and do not have access to budget data like that commanded by the Senate Finance Committee, I don't know if this hypothesis is correct or not, but I don't mind giving the idea a shot. So in a nutshell, reducing taxes tests the worthiness of the various social and infrastructural programs currently in place, empowers individuals and arms them with more choices, and potentially bolsters the economy. The alternative is endlessly upward-spiraling rates of taxation and a strangled society, as we see in Great Britain. One thing's for certain: If this is a mistake, our lawmakers know how to soak us good and hard with brutal tax rates and outright fiscal appropriation. If they need to do it, they will. Later today: Death and Blogs.

Actual Size   6:12PM PST Re: The Matrix: Reloaded   I got a chance to see this weekend, since the Berkeley crowd is preoccupied with graduation (Congratulations, Class of 2003).   I liked it. I didn[base ']t love it the way I did the first movie, but what can you do? Some non-spoiler things of note:   While the population of Zion seems to be closely racially integrated (in fact, Caucasian people seem to be in the minority), there are no immediately apparent interracial couples. That struck me as odd.   While a lot of the good guys are urban, bohemian types, a lot of the bad guys are wealthy European fashion victims.   A lot of the Zion scenes reminded me of Star Wars.   That[base ']s all I[base ']m going to say. J Re: Harrowing three days Not only did Beej have to call DAN about possibly having The Bends from the dives he did last weekend (he's fine, and happily winging his way back from the Electronic Entertainment Expo), and narrowly escaping a parking ticket because a Honda totaled itself twenty yards behind me... But Radio decided to freak out and stop working. I learned a great deal about this...little piece of software. Not the least of which, there's a full backup/restore feature that's not listed on the home page menu bar. http://127.0.01:5335/system/pages/backup Use it early and often. It turns out, I had a couple of "corrupt posts" that had to be removed (open the radio application, go to Tools -> Developers -. Jump, and type "weblogData.posts". It will give you a numbered database of posts you can edit.)

Blasphemous Metablogging   5:12PM PST "Amateur" bloggers John Naughten shoots back at arrogant journalists who decry the prominent placing of 'amateur' blogs on google searches. True, bloggers are an impressive outlet for anybody's free speech. And journalists are professionals in the sense that they are paid to write, while most bloggers are amateurs in the sense that we are not. However, that misses the point. People who search for a topic wants accuracy in reporting. They want, presumably, facts. They don't care if the writer put the words in print to pay his mortgage, as opposed to just having a strong desire to share his ideas with people. And bloggers may be amateur writers, but they tend to be educated and experienced professionals in something else. Some few mainstream media outlets actually use e.g. writers with a real science background to write about science. Mostly, however, journalists are jack-of-all-trade writers who know a little (often very little) about a wide range of subjects. On the other hand, quite a few science bloggers are professional scientists or students of science. The blog community concists of historians, lawyers, military people, health professionals and of course a large number of computer experts. Amateurs? When these people write about topics they are highly educated to write about, they are much more likely to provide good insights than a journalist with no specific background who has a looming deadline preventing him or her to really become familiar with the topic at hand. More Matrix Reloaded stuff Here is a transcript of the conversation between Neo and the Architect (spoiler alert), with a number of notes and comments. If you're into the Matrix, well worth a look! Did you google me of your own free will? I have been googled a number of times today by some canucks wanting to know the answer to the eternal question about free will vs determinism. The search gives this article on that very subject a rather prominent ranking. What is a blog anyway? If you are a blogger, you've probably been asked countless times what a blog or weblog is. And that's not a very easy question to answer. What distinguishes it from a normal webpage? Dave Winer gives a detailed, comprehensive and easy-to-follow answer in the article What makes a weblog a weblog?. Next time somebody asks, give them that url. John Lott's dubious statistics Here's a very interesting page about gun advocate John Lott and his questionable use of research and statistics.

Fried Green al-Qaedas   2/5/2003 The new Virtual Occoquan is now on line. This is your only notice. The brand new oh-so-delicious Virtual Occoquan is out, featuring culinary masterpieces from Rayne, Scotchman, Me, Gentleman George, Jan Haugland, Daniel Dolinov, and of course, Paul Hinrichs. Plus the Yawp on the impending war, Kit Fox on Satan, Maxine on Fortuna, VeryModern on Brandy, FWTBT on arms inspections, Kriselda on child molesters, Rob S on 'Gangs of New York, Ian Eletz on slashers, replicator in Steelers territory, and Susan McNerney on the Bush Clone. Virtual Occoquan - the all you can eat issue.   Christmas Blogging (the complete collection)   As of 3:05 PM EST December 25, the following piece includes every single writer who has posted today. This is such a treat. I[base ']ve always wanted to write a piece that includes everybody. It[base ']s like the times when I[base ']ll pop into the neighborhood pub and there are only a handful of people there [^] that[base ']s when I[base ']ll buy a round for the house. And feel quite good about myself.   An Bingbing debuts on Christmas day. God, not another lefty political blog, I says, but there[base ']s this damn fine piece on Uncle Tom[base ']s Cabin and Colin Powell.   Paulapalooza has pneumonia and yet still finds the time to wish us a Merry Christmas.   Standing Room Only has a wonderful interview with Christ. Don[base ']t miss it.   I think that it[base ']s Christmas over in the land of the midnight sun (although I believe they[base ']re in the season of the noontime moon right now). Secular Blasphemy does a good piece on Atheism.   Musings From The Left Coast has a short piece on Iraq and North Korea.   What can I say about Tales of Drudgery or Rene Hoornweg? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.   Blodgett starts the day with a little poem, throws in a picture of Santa, and begins drinking early. Cheers buddy. It[base ']s mimosas at the Round Raoul complex.   A blog doesn[base ']t need a clever name, Ted Rizer, and readme.blog send Christmas greetings.   Julie/Julia writes about Christmas Eve dinner.   And me, I wrote this. Hey, remember yesterday when I told you that the brand new was on-line? That was kinda true. I mean it was on-line. It just wasn't complete. Now it is, so go visit. No, really, now. I don't have all day. Used to be known as the Slogers Quality Tour. Tonight it[base ']s all about me.   Does everyone know what  [OE]Q-ratings[base '] are? If not, then briefly; they are a system whereby politicians, entertainers, and various others in the public eye have to find their place in popular culture. There are two vectors involved: unknown to universally recognized, and loved to hated {likeability rating). They determine what niche a person can fill in the media world. For example, many years ago, G Gordon Lidey had a Q-rating that place him fairly high, maybe six, on the familiarity rating, and low on the likeability rating. He wisely turned this into an opportunity of playing B grade villains on television, and then parlayed this into a broadcasting career.   So tonight, I celebrate me! I said Vacant Lott[base ']s Q[base ']s were low, and assigned him the role of Lumpy. He[base ']s grown into it. He made me write it. Oh man, you don[base ']t even need a link. Best thing on the Slogs tonight. Just scroll down. Hooray for FGAQ!   Weird and true story. For the top link I searched on [OE]Q-ratings + celebrity[base ']. There, on the first page, ranked #8, is this.   I[base ']ve been missing a lot of updated logs lately, since job-wise I[base ']ve been too busy lately to take reading breaks. It[base ']s not gonna change. Everyone should whine. Give us a 24 hour clock!!!!   And do the comments and blog mail work even half the time? I would be embarrassed[sigma]   Things I learned at happy hour tonight. 73-year-old women can still kiss good, if you close your eyes[sigma] My former FBI friend told me about the Bone-yard in Tennessee. (I[base ']ll write about it later)[sigma] My African relief aid worker friend supposedly can make lasagna. We[base ']ll see about that... That asshole I saw the other night was named Shawn. And so much more. Everything I[base ']ve learned, I learned at the DownUnder.   Reflections is having wardrobe problems at work. It[base ']s hard dressing for success if you just don[base ']t dig the clothes. Two words for you, Daniel. Black. White.   Oh my god! So many things to think about. Kissinger, mushrooms, Lott, mushrooms, Johnny Horton [^] who I do agree wrote the best song ever about sinking a submarine, and mushrooms. Playing with my food. I love mushrooms.   Do I ever finish a column without mentioning Gentleman George? Okay. It[base ']s my column. And I look for his updates just like a hog looks for slop.   Okay. My stuff on Salonika looks like shit. Why? Dunno, put it into Front Page, table it, take off headers, etc. Don[base ']t work! Still, work with this is much as you can, you crazy people. Christian is doing a great job.   I would have posted an hour ago, but  VeryModern[sigma]   It[base ']s true. I like the Devil[base ']s Excrement as much as anyone. It[base ']s Venezuela at it[base ']s most dynamic. But has anyone ever seen a piece with more links than this?   And so, the Salon Blogs Quality Tour ends up at the most disgustingly name blog of them all. [thanks, Miguel]. Listen, the good thing is that a lot of folks are starting to write about the other quality things that are at Salon. And I do mean quality. Some damn fine writing going on in this space. Much more than I could ever credit. I[base ']m proud to write here.   mfh   p.s. thanks to SR for all his support.

Rayne, Rayne   6/4/2003 C   Build-A-Meme Project:  Mixed blessings   Joe Conason[base ']s journal post today renders data that is good news to Bush[base ']s opposition: [base "]A glance at recent polls reveals that Bush's "huge" popularity, when not propped up by war, is quickly returning to ordinary levels. (For some reason, the media rarely referred to Bill Clinton as "hugely popular" even when his approval ratings rose to 75 percent.) More significantly, Bush's "reelect" numbers have again dropped below 50 percent in most surveys, which is where they have languished during most of his presidency. For instance, the latest NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll shows him with 47 percent, or a couple of points less than he got in the 2000 election. The Ipsos-Reid/Cook Political Report poll taken two weeks ago shows him at 43 percent. The CBS News/New York Times poll gives Bush 34 percent, the unnamed Democrat 21 percent, with 56 percent of independent voters undecided.[per thou] [emphasis added [^] R.] Unfortunately, Bush[base ']s falling approval and re-election numbers may be a result of the wreck that is our faltering U.S. economy.  Economists are tempering their forecasts for growth, estimating that jobs may recover from 6.0 per cent unemployment to 5.9 percent inside in the fourth quarter (Merry Christmas to 0.1 per cent of us[sigma]).  There is a larger human and economic cost not reflected here; a record number of unemployed have become discouraged and dropped out of these numbers.  An equally record number of positions have become permanently lost, phased out by cost cutting.   As we go forward building our meme, we need to target that 56 per cent of people sitting on the fence.  Some portion of them has to be unemployed; surely, they can[base ']t be happy about the misery that Bush[base ']s economic efforts (or lack thereof) have caused.  They need and deserve change in leadership.   ---   [Cross-posted to Democratic Strategies at Build-A-Meme Forums.]   ?   You Googled Me?  Odd, really odd[sigma]   Okay, what[base ']s going on?  Yesterday[base ']s referral log had some rather odd searches that landed at my doorstep:   [base "]Nano ethics[per thou]   [base "]To dare is to lose one[base ']s footing momentarily[per thou]   [base "]Spiral dynamics gamma trap[per thou]   [base "]Competency framework for diplomat[per thou]     Very interesting searches, more intriguing than the bulk of searches that arrive at my door.  Ever wonder if there[base ']s a cosmic message encrypted in your referrals?  What was this one, if there was one buried in this Googling?   C   Build-A-Meme Project:  Arianna[base ']s inspiration   Nice rant by Arianna Huffington unleashed at Salon.com, containing juicy bits like this:   And don't bother trying to make the case that everything isn't hunky-dory in Baghdad to rabid acolytes such as Jay Garner. Like the president, the demoted viceroy doesn't care what the facts indicate -- to him even a looted and punctured glass can be half-full. "We ought to be beating our chests every day," he said, dismissing the notion that any of us should feel bad about the problems besetting Iraq. "We ought to look in a mirror and get proud. We ought to stick out our chests and suck in our bellies and say, 'Damn, we're Americans.'" That's sure to win us some more goodwill around the world. Hoo-rah, and pass the Kool-Aid, General Jay!   Which of course prompts me to think of a meme-let:   DON[base ']T DRINK THE KOOL-AID IN 2004   Another visual break My little guy has been ill two days this week [^] although for some twisted reason, not on successive days.  I[base ']m suffering a creative drain from lack of sleep after being up with him at all hours of the night.   Here[base ']s a little lagniappe for you while I re-gear and juice up.                       Build-A-Meme Project:  IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT à FORUMS!!   With enormous thanks to Kriselda at differentstrings, the Build-A-Meme Project now has a new home and forums!   Kriselda says, [base "]You will need to register to post, and it will ask for your e-mail address, but in your profile, you have the option of hiding that from everyone accept the Administrators, which should help prevent any spammers that might stop by from grabbing it. Just look for the "Hide your e-mail address" checkbox in the Preferences section of your Profile.[per thou]   She[base ']s already set up some categories and boards set up, too.  Damn, isn[base ']t she fabulous?!   Thanks to Kriselda and to all of you who[base ']ve made contributions, either in the form of comments or through posts at your blog.  You[base ']ve turned this into a real, live entity in a matter of days and hours.   A BETTER world is possible and we can make it happen.  Just look what we've started on a shoestring, in a brief bit of time!   Wonder what the days and weeks ahead will bring??  Dream BIG, people!!

No Code: DNR   1/17/2003 GSW in the ED - Part Two (Part One is here.) When things go well in a trauma, it's like a ballet. People move effortlessly around each other, needs are anticipated and things are done exactly when they're supposed to be, nobody gets in anyone else's way and the patient gets great care. When things don't go well, it's a mess. Maybe the surgical resident is scared shitless and is trying to compensate by yelling, or maybe he's just stupid. Maybe one of the nurses is in the ozone, letting IV fluids run out, bumping into others or trying to do what someone else is already doing. Maybe the patient is thrashing around, cursing, fighting, trying to get up and leave and precious time gets wasted tying him down to the bed. When those things happen, it becomes a fight to get things done. It's a cascade of effects: IV's are missed, x-rays have to be retaken, procedures take twice as long or twice as many times as they are supposed to, there's no admission bed available or the Cat scanner is down or the OR's not ready. Anything and everything. And you've just got to work through it as best as you can, because the person on the cart, the guest-of-honor, doesn't care about the excuses. Things are going well this time. between EMS and police, MDs and RNs, other staff and the patient himself, there 20 people more or less involved: looking, feeling, touching, listening, reacting, anticipating. "Who shot you, K?" "I don' know, man!" Damn! This hurts like a mother! "C'mon, K! What happened?" "Shit, me and this other dude was walkin' down the street, just mindin' our own bidness, when this dude came up and shot me for no reason!" "Who was it?" "I don't know, man! Somebody I never saw before. Thought I was somebody else, pro'ly" Ah, if it were only that easy. Some nights it seems that the only people getting shot or stabbed are those who are simply minding their own "bidness". In KM's case, however, the police mentioned that his business involved trying to steal someone else's car. KM's not looking so good, though.He's had two liters of fluid in from his IV and his pressure is better, but his breathing is barely acceptable. He has all the symptoms of a collapsed lung with blood where the lung ought to be, and the bullet hole to prove it. There's not much to decide - he's bought a chest tube. "Give him 5 milligrams of morphine, please. Let's get set up." The thoracotomy tray is open. It has all the equipment needed to cut a hole in K's chest and insert a tube the size of an index finger. The tube is connected to a container that collects whatever blood comes out and keeps the lung expanded. I've already connected the container to suction and placed all the connecting tubing where it needs to be. The senior surgical resident guides his junior. Numbing medication is injected into the skin along the right side, about six inches under the armpit. Using a scalpel, an incision is made and then the opening is widened by stretching the tissue and muscle. Guiding the hemostats over the rib, pressure is applied until the tube pops through the lining of the lung, the pleura. This is painful for K, much more so than the actual shooting. As the resident enters the lung space the is a rush of air outward. The chest tube is hooked up to suction and sutured in place. Almost immediately, blood flows through the chest tube into the collection bag, nearly half a pint. The results are promising. K's blood pressure is better, his pulse drops slightly (a good sign) and his breathing is a little easier. He's a long way from well, though. One of the laws of trauma care is that you can never trust the path of a knife or bullet. Things may look straightforward, but a bullet can break up and the pieces head off in different directions, hitting the heart or the bowel or liver, for example. Blood has been ordered, X-ray is here with a portable machine to check his chest. We are already starting to filter his blood from the chest tube and give it back to him in his IV. Vital signs are checked constantly and his pressure is improving. His oxygen level is good. He is still responsive. Once it is determined that he has no other injuries, it's time for staff to start filtering out. With things stabilized, Sharon goes back outside, EMS has restocked the rig and are ready for the next call, Surgical Intensive Care (SICU) has been notified that they're getting an admission, the surgical senior has instructed his junior on what to do next. It's a matter of crossing the t's and getting him upstairs to the SICU. He'll be watched through the night to make sure the bleeding has stopped and the lung stays expanded. KM will do well. No major arteries were hit, his lung will re-expand and he will go home in a week or two. This was a good trauma because the outcome was good. Sometimes the traumas rate a "good" because it was interesting, even if the outcome was bad. Mostly a good trauma is one that doesn't happen to me. So this is what it's like. Nestled in between the noise, confusion and blood is a routine and a protocol that varies only in the details. KM was a good composite patient. Another one might have just as easily fought and bit and spit and threatened to kill us all. Another may have been dead on arrival, or shortly after, or made it to the OR before dying. It's time to clean up and get ready for the next one, because there is always a next one. Here's Chapter Three in my daughter's story "Kissing Satan Goodnight." ( Chapter One is here. Chapter Two is here) Chapter Three (Welcome To Coldville) Coleville - named for Laurence H. Cole, a skilled inventor with nothing much to show for his talent - is like many other small towns: dusty, friendly, isolated, and formal. The old New England rocking chairs call it being "proper", their philosophy being to keep out of other's affairs and the boat will remain calm and blissfully unrocked. The town's namesake was little known among the more famous inventors and professors of his day and those that came after. His name is easily forgotten in that line of work, especially considering that no one knew of any particularly groundbreaking things that he'd done. His lack of recognition was picked over like a scab whenever the subject of local history arose, and most of those skilled in science sneered at the odd ideas that Cole so avidly pursued. With an almost defiant air, the town erected a hideous statue of their neglected hero outside the town hall, a requisite banner to any town of that size and disposition. "Ayuh, he'll get what he deserves, you'll see," the townsfolk swore. "Then this place'll be famous! All the good ones were ignored till after they died." Then the speaker would tap the side of his nose knowledgeably and tip a wink to whatever grocer or barber or bartender he'd been harping to. The fact that it had been one hundred and ninety - nine years since Cole's mysterious death in 1804 does not seem to bother the people of the town. He was their genius, their golden boy - and quite possibly the only one they would have. It is a hot morning, stunningly hot for May, a somewhat unwelcome preview of what their oncoming Maine summer would have up its sleeve. The new leaves hang thirsty from their spidery branches, seeming to pant with the breath of the dry sun. Cars roll by as if tired with the world, puffing out exhaust lazily, the mouths of their windows gaping wide to suck in the breeze. Only the tourists use air conditioning when the mercury is below ninety. The town over the past few days has seemed to be waiting, holding its breath for some oncoming unknown. The feeling has now broken along with the heat, but few seem to notice the connection. Justin Starret pushes play and the small but clean café is filled with the lighthearted rock of Elvis. He spins the volume button on the black, ketchup-spattered stereo left over from a time when flattops and shoulder pads were the height of cool, letting the King fill in the morning groove. The doorknob to the supply closet emits a tiny squeak as he yanks the door open, revealing a tissue box-sized room with the hygienic necessities of any locally owned establishment: a bucket, a mop, a half-spilled box of Roach-Away, and a broom, which Justin grabs, shuffling backward as he sings along. "I'm proud to say that she's my buttahhcup, I'm in love -" he plants his feet and cocks a hip in time. "- I'm all shook up..." He dances through the kitchen, twirling the broom and occasionally using it, finishing up the chores he'd secretly neglected last night when he'd closed up. The café is called Zalio's, a tiny and well-run local place with a fifties charm and blue and white checkered floors. The minute stream of tourists that trickles into Coleville for a peaceful summer getaway rarely notices Zalio's, but it attracts a fair current of locals, as the café has been there for too many years to count. The aging Yankees, some of which are reported to be older than God, have memories that can stretch back to the Byzantine empire, but on the point of when Zalio's opened, they all seem to be fuzzy. Wonders are dismissed, however, in favor of the magnificent cheeseburgers. The mirthful tinkle of the bell is drowned out by Elvis's guitar and the door opens without attracting attention. "Jesus Justin, willya turn it down? The dead are gonna wake up and be pissed." Justin spins around to catch the bemused smile of Rieger Swick, the owner of Zalio's. He is a tall, well built man with white hair and beard, barely visible paunch and eyes that always seem to sparkle with a Santa Claus charm. By all rules of logic, Rieger Swick should be at least ninety years old now, the memories of Coleville[base ']s old men holding scenes of milkshakes and apple pie at Zalio's since they were but tadpoles, but he looked no older than sixty and he always carried an impression of great energy and wisdom. "Sorry Mister Swick," Justin says, reaching for the volume knob and taking the music down to a less assailing level. "Ah well," says Rieger, going to the back in search of coffee. "If it can't be good it may as well be loud." "Hey!" Justin stops sweeping. "Mister Swick, this is the King, how can you say -" Rieger Swick chuckles, patting the air in a defensive motion. "Don't get your panties in a bind, son," he says. "I was only kidding." With a soft "hmph" Justin returns to sweeping. He should have known better than to jump on the defensive. Since he was sixteen he'd been working at Zalio's and getting to know Rieger Swick. Justin was at once calmed by his open personality, his blunt and casual wit, and his endless well of wisdom. He'd watched his boss load Elvis records into the old jukebox and even sometimes heard the same playing softly in the back room as Rieger counted out the drawer. Justin is nineteen now and over the years he's come to appreciate the quirks and complexities of his boss's nature. "Has Frank called about his order yet?" Rieger asks, poking through the cabinets above the rundown percolator. "And where is our real coffee?" "No, he didn't call yet," says Justin, sharing his employer's exasperation as Frank has been ordering groceries from Zalio's for years and calls every Monday to confirm his order. With larger city businesses this might be necessary, but with a place as tiny as Rieger Swick's, the employees have long since memorized Frank's grocery list. "He's nothing if not thorough," Rieger Swick has said of Frank. "We'll give him a couple more minutes out of etiquette," Rieger calls out of the cabinet, his precise, round voice nailing the "t's" with effortless grace. "But then if you could take his order over, I'd appreciate it." "Ayup." Though he never mentioned it, Frank's knees had been bad since the war and Rieger Swick, in his omnipotence, had insisted that Frank's groceries be brought to him every Monday. "What the hell and the hootenanny...?" Rieger pulls out a crumpled coffee bean pack from the cabinet. "Decaf? Get it outta here!" He tosses the pack over his shoulder and it lands with a thunk in the trash can. "Does Frank usually call this early?" Justin asks, trying to persuade a stubborn bit of fluff to extricate itself from a corner. "Seven o'clock, on the nose," Rieger murmurs, pulling out another packet. "Pumpkin Spice?" "Don't even bother," says Justin. "Left over from last Fall and it tastes like cardboard anyway." "Where's our regular regular, we tear through the stuff every day but when I look for it..." Leaving his little pile of dirt and dust, Justin leans the broom against the counter and comes around the window to the kitchen where his employer is kneeling on a stool with his entire upper body hidden in the cabinet. "Here let me," Justin says. "What are you looking for?" "Something black," says Rieger, moving aside for Justin and settling into a stool by the grill. "Like ink. Better yet, like sludge." "This is a change for you," Justin raises an eyebrow, pulling a coffee bag from behind the percolator. "What's up?" Rieger Swick has never been a coffee man. He will drink the occasional cup, but never seems to be in great need of it like the twitchy morning regulars, and usually settles for a cool diet Pepsi, two ice cubes. Having nearly been killed in the fight to quit smoking many years back, which he did with a self disgust that he was not eager to experience again, he'd set his mind against any kind of addiction. Seeing the way some of his customers scrambled for their morning jump start, he'd erased any desire to start the habit. "Couldn't find a piece of rest last night," Rieger says. "Bad dreams... and it seemed like everything was crawling, scratching at my walls and my windows. Then I'd really listen and there would be nothing. And I mean nothing, boy, no noise at all," he shakes his head slowly. "That's not a healthy sound, silence. Noise means life." "That's odd, I slept okay. Maybe you're just getting to that age," Justin flashes a grin as he starts the coffee machine, filling the room with the gentle sound of hot water running. "Hm," Rieger nods, ignoring the crack. "Well, Frank's late calling, you'd best get going. If he calls while you're out, I'll tell him you're on your way." "You'll be cool to open on your own? I mean, if a lot of people come in..." "Marilyn should be on her way soon. Go ahead, his bag's in the back." "Okay boss." Justin nabs the bag and says goodbye to Rieger Swick with the promise to be back soon, then leaves the café and his pile of dirt on the floor to get into his car and set off for Frank Lauden's house. (Copyright Kit Fox, 2003)

News from Elsewhere   2/21/2003 Goodbye?. Quiet isn't it? One of the oddities of this experiment has been watching my interest in writing for the blog form ebb and flow. Or rather flow and ebb. Suddenly, after the first rush of excitement it seems a little flat. Perhaps it would be best to listen to what my mother told me. If you've nothing to say, say nothing. When streams become full blogs, whose blogs are they?. When streams become full blogs, whose blogs are they? So here's a question for you. As I mentioned previously, I am hoping to turn a channel of this blog into an editorial page for tuppenceworth.ie. If I get the time and teccy know-how together, I'll make that channel look like the rest of tuppenceworth's ugly but triumphantly functional design. I may even try hosting the blog from the tuppenceworth space (although we've definitely gone past my technical abilities now). But what would that mean for that stream's membership of the Salon blogs community. After all, they would still be postings from this Radio blog. They would be about nothing that the current random flashes that make up the content of my curate's egg blog now wouldn't include. So would tuppenceworth's editorial page be a part of Salon's blogs? Or by extension could all of tuppenceworth become a part of the community? Nothing on it would run contrary to the interests of the locals, as so far expressed. Except I think that it couldn't be thought of as part of the community. And the best reason I can give at the moment is that it faces another way. Which doesn't seem very cut and dried. But then I like the grey bits anyway.

Dreaming of China   1/17/2003 One of these days, I'll actually write something worth putting in Virtual Occoquan. 'til then, I'll just read it. You should to - good, good stuff, and continuing proof that we've really created something interesting here at Salon blogs...Oh, and further evidence that Mark Hoback is a persistent bugger. Welcome to today's Salon blog tour of quality. Or somesuch - I'm just covering for Mark, anyway. He's back tomorrow, so all will be right soon. I promise. I know this is a bit early, but hey - I'm an East Coaster and a morning person. Deal with it. =) Pardon me if I'm a bit distracted - I remembered today that I had the first five episodes of the new season of 24 sitting on my TiVo, unwatched...so I'm currently catching up. So far, it's pretty decent, but could do with a lot less of Jack's daughter. I mean, she's cute and all - but not particularly interesting. Anyway - on to the tour, in some particular order, with some personal bias...I'm going to be choosing things that interest me, and there may be no other reason than bad puns. I make no apologies. Tom Coombs has noticed something that I wish I'd seen: the Bushies are stealing their dialogue from Joseph Heller. Over at Pipeline, we're given two things to think about: a rigorous argument that the Who were a more important and generally better band than the Beatles, and whether the Who is singular or plural. Ok, maybe not, but he does jump back and forth a couple times. Anyway, he's got some good points. Urban Kayak gets pissed off at pretentious wannabe rockstars, and gives us the top five albums of the '90s. And his title makes me think of the Quebecois suit hunters from the Kids in the Hall. I'm not even sure I can explain what's going on over at Emphasis Added, but it involves Peter Lorre, so it has to be good. And I like his blog description. =) ...how does Mark avoid the tour getting absurdly long? I'm only maybe a third of the way through today's updates...there's just too damned much QUALITY, BABY! That's what we're all about here at Salon blogs, my friend, QUALITY! All in caps, of course. Yeah, I'm babbling, but I feel a need to inject this with my own personal style, y'know? Right - back to the show. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. STANDING ROOM ONLY provides us all with a review of a night of fun, Cyndi Lauper, fun, and Cher. And Anna Nicole Smith. The Raven talks a lot. About stuff. I'm sure you'll be shocked to know it's good reading. Hyperbole responds to the Who v. Beatles argument above. Maxine got praised by Reverse Cowgirl - and deservedly so. Reverse Cowgirl may have said something, but she gets enough hits already. And a TV show. Now Instapundit's picked her up, to go with Dave Winer. Yikes - two of the highest traffic blogs have linked her recently. Yeah, I'm jealous. I am so unloved. I'm going to go take my happy pills now. =) The Devil's Excrement documents the repression of anti-Chavez demonstrations in Venezuela - this blog has long been a consistently good source of information on the complicated and difficult situation in that country. Notes From Atlanta reports on the debunking of Republican spin on Al Gore - namely, the Internet-inventing myth. ...and that's it for me tonight. Mark will be back tomorrow - and good thing. This has taken a good chunk of time - I'm way too lazy to keep it up on a regular basis. Mark, you're a better man than I.

Different Strings   4/21/2003 Salon Bloggers. Salon Bloggers at Yahoo!Groups I thought it might be fun to have a mailing list for the authors/editors/owners (whatever it is we call ourselves *g*) of Salon Blogs, so I set one up.  If you'd like to join, you can use the box in this message, send a blank e-mail to: salonblog-subscribe@yahoogroups.com or visit: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/salonblog/join   Subscribe to salonblog Powered by groups.yahoo.com (Just as an FYI, if you're intersted in a mailing list for Salon Bloggers, but don't like the idea of using Yahoo Groups, let me know - I chose to start it there because its fairly common and the do have funcitons such as polls and files if there are things we want to share with each other, BUT if there's enough interest in the list, but not wanting to deal with Yahoo is preventing people from signing up, I can run a private mailing list through my web host, and can move it there).   Salon Bloggers WebRing I'm also starting a Salon Bloggers Webring, so that visitors can just kind of surf through the community. If you'd like to take part in that as well, you can fill out the form below or go to: http://www.ringsurf.com/netring?ring=salonblogs;action=addform   Submit a site to Salon Bloggers Net Ring Site Title: Site URL: Site Owner: EMail Address: Year of Birth: (ie: 1999) By law, we cannot collect personal information on anyone under the age of 13. Because of this we do not allow anyone 13 or under to Join a RingSurf Net Ring, or become a Ringmaster, and thus we are forced to ask you to specify your birthdate. If you are under the age of 14, you may not become a member of RingSurf. You may use the Ring Directory and use any existing ring, you just may not start a new ring, or add your website to an existing ring. See our privacy statement if you have any questions on how we handle your personal data. Password: Keywords: Site Description: A Brief Break from all the Heavy News Stuff. The latest "thing" here at the Salon blogs seems to be interesting Google searches that led to your site.  My favourite for today?  "pay scales for CIA".  It does make me wondering - in most industries, you can look at how employees in comperable positions in competing companies are paid to determine if you're being paid "fairly", but who would you compare a position at the CIA with?  For those Googlesluts who are really wanting to rack up the hits, though, let me suggest using "Arnold Chrysler", or "40,000 coat hangers".  I posted this article back on October 30th, and Google searches for it have brought me more hits than all of the other search terms combined.  In fact, just this week, it's brought me over 100 visitors.  (In case you missed it, it's a story about a guy who stole 40,000 coat hangers from hotels, so that he could use them in these hotel-style wardrobes he sells to people who want to make their homes look and feel like a hotel room.  The Independent (UK) printed transcripts from Mr. Chrysler's testimony during the trial, which is quite hilarious.) BTW: For something really fun, check out the Raven as he goes Xtreme Blogging! One Pet Peeve Coming Right Up. "Even if you don't believe in capital punishment, the legislature has said capital punishment is available for certain crimes," Mr. Horan said, adding, "If this doesn't qualify for the death penalty, what does?" - Quoted in the New York Times This is something I just have to get off my chest.  It drives me nuts to hear people, time and time again, justify seeking the death penalty by saying "If this doesn't qualify for the death penalty, what does?".  In fact, it's probably my second least favourite phrase (my #1 least favourite being "If I can do it, anyone can", but that's a whole different rant).  How many times have we heard this tired cliche trotted out by some vengeance-minded prosecutor, cop, or politician to help try and placate those who don't support the death penalty, but might be able to be swayed in this particular case.  The problem is, of course, that just about any case horrific enough to be eligible for the death penalty will also be horrific enough for people to use as an example of the "if this case doesn't justify it, what does..." cannard.   This is yet another example of why we, as a society, need to decide if we're going to view the death penalty as a form of justice, which I still think is a very shaky proposition, or if we're going to acknowledge that it is social vengeance - something that, while not necessarily serving the purpose of justice, sure does feel good on a primitive level. Trying to use the example of a particularly heinous case to support the "death-penalty-as-justice" theory actually tends to defeat the purpose.  For the death penalty to be just, it would have to be applied consistantly under an objective set of standards, rather than subjectively and on a case-by-case basis as it is now.  Justice a la Ashcroft. The way the prosecutions of John Muhammad and John Lee Malvo are being handled can give us some good insight into what John Ashcroft considers "appropriate" in a criminal case.  While it's certainly understandable that Ashcroft, and much of the public, want to see Muhammad and Malvo tried, sentenced and executed as quickly and neatly as possible, the fact that their crimes were so horrific and that the case against them appears so compelling is why its so important that we make sure this is handled fairly.  If we give in to the emotional impulses most of us have, full of rage and vengeance, we run the risk putting emotional satisfaction ahead of justice, and it is justice, here, that MUST be served. As reported in the New York Times, there are already a number of questionable elements to how this case has been handled: John Ashcroft decided to give the case to the state of Virginia for the first trial, largely because they are the state that has the second highest number of executions (following only Texas), and it is easier for prosecutors to obtain death penalty sentences there than in any of the other eligible states.  He also chose Virginia because under their laws, Malvo, the 17-year-old partner of Muhammad, is eligible for the death penalty. Malvo was placed in an adult detention facility even prior to it being determined if his case would be bound over for trial in adult court or if he would be tried as a juvinile. Until the suspect is determined to be an adult for the purposes of trial, he should be treated as a juvinile offender, and held in a juvinile facility - even if it means holding him in some kind of protective or otherwise extra-secure custody. Malvo was subjected to 7 hours of interrogation prior to his even being assigned a public defender.  This was also prior to the court appointing a guardian for him, since, at this time, his mother has yet to be located.  Generally speaking, suspects who are minors are to either be allowed to have their attorney or, at the least, a parent or guardian with them when they are being interrogated, but Malvo was denied both. Earlier that same day (Friday), when Muhammad came in to the court for his hearing, he was told, at that time, that they would be assigning a new lawyer to him next Wednesday.  Muhammad expressed confusion, since he had previously been assigned an attorney by the Federal court, when it appeard that they might choose to take the first shot at the pair (no pun intended). When the Feds dropped the charged, however, the Federal lawyer