chacal-la-chaise :: alternative world for that cat up a tree

WOW!
So long, and no time to say what's been going on here. While I hope to write more soon, I thought I would post this on the off chance people will appreciate the irony...then think about everything at stake.

Originally, I spotted this on my Flickr contact screen, and then a text version was being sent around, and now I'm posting this here.

Take care, happy hump day, and as always, keep the faith!

I'm a little confused. Let me see if I have this straight...

If you...

• Grew up in Hawaii and raised by your grandparents, you're different.
• Grew up in Alaska eating mooseburgers, a quintessential American  story.
• Are named Barack you are a radical, unpatriotic Muslim.
• Named your kids Willow , Trig and Track, you're a maverick.
• Graduated from Harvard law School and you are unstable.
• Attended 5 different  colleges before graduating with a degree in journalism, you are grounded.
• Spent 3 years as a brilliant community organizer, become the  first black President of the Harvard Law Review, create a voter  registration drive that registers 150,000 new voters, spend 12 years  as a Constitutional Law professor, spend 8 years as a State Senator  representing a district with over 750,000 people, become chairman of  the state Senate's Health and Human Services committee, spend 4 years  in the United States Senate representing a state of 13 million people  while sponsoring 131 bills and serving on the Foreign Affairs,  Environment and Public Works and Veteran's Affairs committees, you do not have any real leadership experience.
• Possesed a resume that lists you have been a:  local weather girl, 4 years on the city  council and 6 years as the mayor of a town with less than 7,000  people, 20 months as the governor of a state with only 650,000 people,  then you're qualified to become the country's second highest ranking executive.
• Marrieded a well educated and accomplished woman 19 years ago, and are still married to her, raising two beautiful daughters, attend mainline Protestant churches, then you are not a true Christian.
• Cheated on your first wife with a rich heiress, and left your cancer survivor wife and married the heiress the next month, you're a  Christian.
• Taught responsible, age appropriate sex education, including  the proper use of birth control, you are eroding the fiber of society.
• Staunchly advocated abstinence only while governor, meaning people had no other option for sex education in that state's school system, and then your unwed teenaged daughter ends up pregnant, you are very responsible.
• Are married to a woman who is a Harvard graduate and now a lawyer, a woman who gave up a position at a prestigious law firm to work for the betterment of her inner city  community, then gave that up to raise a family with you, then your family's values do not represent American values.
• Finally, if your husband goes by the name of 'First Dude', with at least one DWI  conviction and no college education, who didn't register to vote until  age 25 and once was a member of a group that advocated the secession  of Alaska from the USA, your family is extremely admirable.

OK, much clearer now.

It's amazing what happens when you decide to buy stamps. Last night, I ran out of stamps for my graduation invitations. It was then that I decided to order more (at 11:30 pm) from the USPS store. When I went there, I looked at the new .42 stamp designs.

That's when saw them--stamps honoring American journalists. Looking at the five--Martha Gellhorn, John Hersey, George Polk, Ruben Salazar, and Eric Sevareid--I was very surprised and happy to see someone, who to me, is perhaps the bravest journalist along side of of Ernie Pyle. Killed in California by the FBI, as he was doing his job, Ruben Salazar is being honored this week not only by the US Postal Service, but also by UTEP for his brave actions and excellent reporting skills. Born in Cd. Juarez, Salazar was a journalism graduate of Texas Western College, which now known as UTEP.

Not only a credit to journalism, but he is also a hero to the Latino/a community and all El Paso/Juarez citizens. Before now, one would have to know there is a room named Salazar on the UTEP campus, or see the freeway support mural at Lincoln Park to easily know about Salazar. But now, all can have a piece of Ruben Salazar when they pay a bill or mail a letter to a friend and send his story and image around the world.   

If it were not for accidental timing, flat tires, and gasoline leaks, I would not have met Rick Burch, bassist, and his "employee" Michael at the Starbucks on Kirby this morning.

In all actuality I mostly likely would have not seen my friend David, and worse case, my car could have blown up when I started it this morning. The thing is, little bits of time added up which allowed me to meet and chat with Rick and Michael, talk to my friend David, and finally, have my car's gas tank lid tightened by Lenny, another good friend. It was the morning of cheerful guys doing what they like, and me getting a cheap gasoline high.

This all began because I was running a little late this morning (as usual), and yet in actuality, I need not have worried because Lenny was not where he was supposed to be this morning after all. You see, my car was leaking gasoline; two little spots on the concrete had over night grown into two larger spots. The smell of gasoline permeated my car's interior when I got in, and ended up with a cheap high at 9:00 am.

Last night we discovered the leak issue and I called Lenny to see if he would be available today to check the fuel lines and gas tank; unfortunately, he said he was going to have an alligator day and could not guarantee anything. However, he did say he would let us know if the problem was bad enough that the car might blow up the next time we started it. In any event, he was nowhere to be found this morning. But I was not worried; I just drove past, turned onto Myrtle Street, and then hung a right on Virginia where I pulled over and gave Lenny a call. I was hoping on the off chance he would arrive soon, but no luck. He said he was getting a new tire for his Rover and that it would be about 45 minutes before he arrived. I told him I would get breakfast first and be back in about an hour or so.

Choosing to drive to the Kirby Starbucks, I decided to sit outside with my latte and scone. I never sit outside and later I

wondered what prompted me to do so. Perhaps it was the cool morning, and the patio being in the shade; there was a light breeze with hardly anyone outside. That certainly helped my headache. In any event, it was no time before David appeared and said hi. Standing tall with his familiar salt and pepper hair and big friendly grin, he towered above me. A few years ago, he and I used to work together--he did the hard stuff, the coding, while I did the design work for corporate intranet projects. He looked the same as always and we chatted about Macs and our children for a few minutes. Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he had to leave; things to do, people to see. He said goodbye and I resumed reading my RSS feeds and throwing scone crumbs on the patio for the sparrows.

In a few minutes, two guys pulled up on knockabout racing bikes. Locking up, they went inside for drinks, then returned and pulled up chairs next to the windows behind me. They chatted to one another about what would be the best way to ride back to where they started; whether they should ride on Paisano, Texas, Copia, or some other way. One used a Blackberry to map their journey, and there was talk about the zoo, an unnamed venue, and more about which way to go. It was then that I turned around and asked if they had recently moved to the area. No, they said, we're in a band that is playing here tonight. But they had forgotten the venue's name. By the zoo, I asked? Yes. That's the Coliseum I said. Yes, that's right, they nodded. What band, I asked? Jimmy Eat World, one said. Oh, I didn't know you were playing here tonight, I confessed.

We continued to talk about bands and how my cousin Gabe Gonzalez used to tour with At the Drive-In, as their sound man and backup keyboardist, about Jim Ward and his new band Sleepercar, and about what SXSW had become. One noted Jim's new Texas tour and album, and I recalled how Gabe had experienced, what Michaela described as, a "Richie Valens flight" that put him off touring forever. The two band members remembered the time, saying they totally understood. Australia they noted. Yes, I replied. We then talked about projects that the original band had spawned: Sparta, The Mars Volta, and Ward's work with my friend Bobby Byrd of Cinco Puntos Press, in addition to the new Sleepercar.

We resumed talking about the best way to get back to the venue and I cautioned them that Paisano was busier and hillier than Texas Avenue, which eventually turned into Alameda; Paisano always has a lot of truck traffic that is headed into Mexico. They agreed they would go back the way they came, which was on Texas-Alameda.

I also talked about Michaela and Shannon's blog, The Rich Girls Are Weeping, and how Lauren, at Michigan State, has now started attending shows and taking pictures of bands for her Facebook album. That being a good segue, I asked if I could take their picture, to which they said no problem.

Afterwards, we all left at the same time as the pedaled down Mesa towards Texas Avenue, and me headed in the same direction to go to Lenny's. This is how little bits of my morning time added up, and allowed me to see my friend David, and meet and talk to Rick Burch and his "employee" Michael from Jimmy Eat World, a band that will perform tonight at the venue across from the zoo.

Oh, and the car--Lenny tested the fuel tank's "lid" that is accessed from inside the trunk. He described how it "works exactly like a mason jar" lid, which he then tightened. It should be fine now, unless there is another leak in the fuel line. And if so, I'll be back again.

In any event, the band will play on tonight.

Although the Writing Center clipping file provided original copies of articles with the date and periodical name, the clipper did not note where in the articles were located, such as what page and section number. In order to utilize the sources (with many good quotes from professors, students, and the president at that time,) I decided to check the public library microform collection of local daily newspapers. While they did not have copies of the university paper, The Prospector, they did have The El Paso Times and Herald Post archives on microfilm.
 
Founded in 1881, The El Paso Herald Post is generally thought by many, to have been the better of the city’s two papers—better writers, editors, and even its layout was progressive, cleaner, more readable than the Times--although some would from time to time, liken its overall content to manure (The Herald Compost).

But as evening paper readership declined as well as the general loss of readers as a whole, this resulted in a general loss of advertising revenue for the two dailies, and eventually, cuts were made and the papers even tried utilizing the same printing operation. Eventually, the Times won battle and the war for city new readers, and the Herald ended its long and award-winning run on October 11, 1997. Yet this was not good news for either the Times or the city as the war came at a tremendous cost—it eventually lost its autonomy and became so much fodder for Gannett newspapers, although now it publishes through a partnership with Media NewsGroup. On a brighter note, the Herald is not totally lost, although not many digital archives are available. (But more on that later.) The El Paso Public Library has both local newspapers on microfilm, along with a collection of films from the New York Times that stretches back to the late 1800s. And while this is a time consuming way to conduct research, for years, microforms were the only format available aside from the much admired bound books that Nicholson Baker writes. While new articles are now published directly to the Internet, they still have their drawbacks that are similar to the old style microforms archives.

According to Baker in his book Double Fold, rolls of microfilm and transparencies of microfiche will, as also newsprint, decay—film becoming scratched and torn through use and  eventually to become lost. And while there are efforts to digitize newspaper archives (converting such microforms to zeros and ones), problems created within the filmic bits remain, mainly due to the fact that not all of the newspaper pages (which do include supplements and advertisements) made it through the scanning or photographic processes. Surprisingly, this exact problem is what I encountered as I searched for my articles last week—whether they were in sections B or C, whether within page x or y.
 
In my case, I discovered one page from the El Paso Times, dated January 16, 1977, had never been scanned! There it was, Section B, yet page 4 or 5 was not numbered and the other (4 or 5) missing. The film skipped from numbered page 3 to numbered page 6. Now, you could say it does not matter, that an accompanying article was on the unnumbered page, and therefore it makes sense that my article was on the other page. In other words, just declare the missing page number 5. However, that is not the point. The point is that our Writing Center has (for all we know) holds the only copy of the article outside of the Times’ morgue. While this is not an earth-shattering article without byline, it does have value and adds to the conversation about writing (tutoring) centers as situated within its various tangential communities of universities, students, faculty, researchers, and other writing and tutoring centers.
 
So far it seems, however, this article and page with its adverts, and other news have vanished, which is what Baker explains has happened all too often with the microform archival process—pages skipped; only the late or final editions archived—interim editions eliminated--erased from history and memory. And while I had read this paper tiger's explanation about such problems, never for a second did I ever believe I would see such results, where, in the context of doing research and needing a simple page number within a specific section. It is here, therefore, that originally started in a  Scrivener file, that now is this lengthy blog entry that I explain why I am having to “guess,” “fudge,” and by all accounts lie about the section and page number for the articles, “UTEP concerned About Lack Of Students’ Reading Skills,” dated January 16, 1977, from The El Paso Times.

This afternoon I emailed the Times requesting the missing information I need. Given the context, which is my use of the article, coupled with the current state of public higher education, more “modern” technology (read Internet) used to archive periodicals, and the subject of the article, this does effect lives today especially when (at least at this moment in time) the students being written about are now the parents of students attending college.

As for the experience of working with the microfilm readers, it was the same as it ever was except for the fact that I did not have to go down to the dungeon and share space and air with homeless old men—yes, they are almost always men. In tatters, they sit, with their greasy shopping bags at their sides, they spend their days reading from or sleeping among the daily newspapers. While the men are still there reading papers in a brighter and more open space, it does not mask nor hide the fact that there are still homeless men, reading to pass the time, sleeping during the day while others sit apart, sifting through old Comgraphix microfilm boxes, looking for articles not there. While the men read, I look around and see several decades full of dust and dirt around the base of the reader trolleys. It seems that they just transferred the readers, en masse from storage and then brought them up to the new space without ever thinking that they could use a thorough dusting/cleansing. Yes, the rolling chairs are new, but the readers, their trolleys, and their printers are filthy—old with library basement dust from two floors down, at least 20 years old. I know they are over 20 because I used to work for the sister company of Comgraphix (Mino-Micrographix) when I was pregnant with the Judge.

Now I am not complaining that the library ever invested in microforms. What I am wondering about if the second effect of the Internet will eventually and totally erase the memory of the El Paso Herald Post and its filmic morgue—are film readers still being manufactured? What happens when the film degrades and we can no longer read through the tipsy and dusty film readers? Is there an effort to transfer films to digital archives? Or is there not enough money for this either. At least for now I have contacted this subscription based archival web site and asked if they will complete these newspapers archives. Right now, they have a couple of years for each, but nothing near what their  combined 200+ years of publishing history could hold for students, researchers, writers, and historians.

this video was sent to me from my friend david. i haven't seen something so fresh since bambi versus godzilla.

Animator vs. Animation by *alanbecker on deviantART

 

This ad may have been paid for by the Pat Haggerty campaign, but thanks to You Tube anyone can view it anytime. Unfortunately for Pat, I will not be voting Republican in the Texas primaries to be held March 4.

Instead, I'll be standing in the other line. What I must write about now is what I think my in-laws would say if they could see Mrs. Haggery standing up for her son, Pat. Not only being a momma lion, she is also helping her son get reelected to the to Texas 78th District, which is a good thing. I remember my mother-in-law Lucille say Mrs. H ruled her roost and that she was a pistol. But then again, so was my mother-in-law.

Steely eyed moms rule the roost. Women who survived so much--the great depression, marriage for over 50 years, raising kids on a noncoms salary, and the separation and worry that come with war. They are fast disappearing. Some will say they are the greatest generation, which is what sons are supposed to think their parents are from. I was not surprised to see her with her nicely coifed silver hair sitting next to Pat in front of a roaring fire. She's just doing what must be done to see through the end of each day. That's why I was glad to see the Haggerty ad. She's doing what she thinks is necessary because she believes her son to be a good and true man.

Some will say if you use your mom then your campaign then you are in trouble. Some will say Mrs. H should have included Bob Craddick's title (Texas Speaker of the House.) But that's nit picky stuff. The fact is that the ad works. It's short, clever, and to the point. Pat didn't have to say much, he let him mom lay into his opponent. She quickly calls attention to Tom Craddick and the big money trying to buy Texas State Representative District 78 seat. And he lets her have the best line ever, "I have a carton of milk that has been in the district longer than (his opponent.)"

And, thanks mom, is all he need say.