Straight from the 1948 playbook: It’s time to quote a little Hunter S. Thompson

I think this year’s various and sundry campaigns have reached the high-pitched whine that calls for…well, wine. And some Hunter S. Thompson. To whit: 

“Politics is like the guinea worm. It sneaks into your body and grows like a cyst from within until finally it gets so big and strong that it bursts straight through the skin, a horrible red worm with a head like a tiny cobra, snapping around in the air as it struggles to breathe.”

Politics is a little like fashion–everything comes back in style if you wait around long enough. Along those lines, if you haven’t yet heard this story about Lyndon B. Johnson, which I’ve seen attributed to Thompson…it’s worth checking out, ya know, just for kicks:

Back in 1948, during his first race for the US Senate, Lyndon Johnson was running about 10 points behind, with only nine days to go. He was desperate. And it was just before noon on a Monday, they say, when he called his equally depressed campaign manager and told him to call a press conference for just before lunch on a slow news day and accuse his high-riding opponent, a pig farmer, of having routine carnal knowledge of his sows, despite the pleas of his wife and children.

His campaign manager was shocked. “We can’t say that, Lyndon,” he supposedly said. “You know that it isn’t true.”

“Of course it’s not!” Johnson barked. “But let’s make the bastard deny it!”

  

And so, tune in to our next episode, when we find out if the wicked police chief really turns down the mayor’s not-politically motivated request, if the mayor really does get investigated for violating federal campaign law, if the contender is guilty of misuse of federal funds as well as his social status, if the lovely city by the rivers really does get flooded, if the citizens get to keep chickens and have their own NASCAR (TM) event, and if the bounty hunter arrives at the scene just in time to save them all.

 

Back to our regularly scheduled program…

Yeah, okay, so I post a bunch of political grousing and get like 400 hits or something (who reads this? I have no idea…). But I really didn’t intend this as a political blog, so much.

The more urgent issue I’m facing is that something is totally chowing on my eggplant. In fact, I argue that this issue is far more pressing than anything to do with the mayor’s race because (1) I am the only one who can do something about it and (2) I can have a far greater impact in my garden than with my one measly vote next week. Here’s the scene of the crime:

 

  

A dastardly deed, indeed…

I searched the entire plant for the culprit, but came up snake eyes. So I’m trying the boyfriend’s tried-and-true wood ashes solution (good thing I still haven’t cleaned out the fireplace, huh?).

Otherwise, the cocozelle and the eggplant are both growing as if I’d given them steroids. The cocozelle had a huge yellow flower on it this morning. I’m worried that these two plants are going to overrun each other. As you can see in the pic below, the cukes, pepper, and tomatoes are all doing well, too.

 

You know, it’s gratifying to watch all this stuff grow..but in the back of my mind, I wonder if I’ll actually get any produce out of all this work. Since I’ve never been much of a gardener, I keep expecting to walk out one morning and find that all the plants have turned brown and died. Other people make it look so easy…and it’s not like it’s a lot of hard labor…but it’s more that I just keep expecting the whole thing to tank because of my lack of authentic green-thumb credentials or something.

Anyway, the other good news is that the cherry tomatoes have sprouted (and this time, they’re safe in my kitchen, so whatever mouse or bird ate the last ones can’t get these…yet.)

 

Bee Punts on Mayor Endorsement

Are the Bee’s editors being socially responsible or perhaps a wee bit sadistic?

In a surreal editorial on May 25, the Bee did not endorse either Kevin Johnson or Heather Fargo for the June 3 primary. (To see the editorial, click here.) Instead, they argued that the voters need more time to decide between the two, and recommended voting for one of the other 5 minor candidates–which would prevent either KJ or Heather from getting a majority of the votes and force a run-off in November.

The Bee’s editors note that a few more months will give Heather time to better articulate why she deserves a third term and KJ time to “learn how to conduct himself in the public arena.” They also acknowledge it’s an unconventional and unsatisfactory recommendation. I get that…I really do.

What this means, however, is that we’re going to have to listen to all the flying nonsense for another five months. I think we’ll also see a deepening of the rancor coming out of our City Council, which will do us no favors in the long run.

What it also means, though, is an unintended benefit for KJ because he’s got far more funding to tide his campaign over for the summer, whereas Heather is going to (likely) run short. On the other hand, as the Bee rightly points out, the ongoing federal investigation into St. Hope will be over by then, and we’ll know whether KJ is going to come out of it unscathed or completely discredited.

Last Thursday, the SNR released a rather lukewarm endorsement of Fargo. The editorial notes that “like others, we’ve often found Fargo lacking in the qualities that make for a strong leader.”

Bottom line, I think, is that Fargo cannot take credit for all the good that has happened during her two terms as mayor. Nor should she shoulder all the blame for things that have gone wrong. But she should heed the message that is being sent here: the voters of Sacramento would not be looking to KJ if they felt that Fargo was doing a great job. Does she deserve a third term? Clearly not. But does KJ deserve a first term? I don’t think so–at least not until he’s cleared up the questions about his character and put in at least one term as a councilmember.

I spent a little time yesterday looking around at some other local political blogs, the Harry Rotz vendetta-hit-piece ”NowayKJ” website, Muriel Strand’s campaign blog, and Shawn Eldredge’s website. And, you know, Eldredge’s web site was really interesting. Naive, yes…but engaged and dedicated. I came away with some respect for the guy. Take a look at his positions and ideas if you have a moment. (Heck, take a look at Muriel’s, too…if you can unravel the convoluted rhetoric…)

Whatever the voters decide, I hope that no one listens to the Bee’s recommendation. Pick one. Let’s end this awful election now.

And, Heather, just a thought for next week: Maybe it’s time to pick up the phone; call Matt Mahood, Waters, Cohn, and Sheedy; and and make nice over a few martinis.

 

We’ve got trouble, right here in River Ci…well, you know.

Man, was this an ugly week in local politics or what? I’m certain I’m not the only one disgusted by the downward spiral of our mayoral race.

After watching Thursday’s debate, my opinion of KJ went up slightly (at least, my opinion of the ability of his consultants to polish him up to a nice shine). I thought Heather held her own very well, too. (Ditto on Richie Ross’s polishing skills. Note to self: Never get on the wrong side of that guy.) I thought the KCRA team did an excellent job of putting them both in the line of fire and keeping things moving.

The eternal conundrum of politics is that the kind of person who wants to hold elected office is often the person who is least likely to be a good leader. It takes a certain amount of ego and chutzpah to jump into the arena and yell “I’m the best!” into the nearest bullhorn. And, usually, the less qualified is the loudest voice. In this case, it seems more like it’s the complacent versus the dubious–both yelling into their bullhorns. Oh, the cacophony.

Anyway, it seems the race is now in the gutter and I am disgusted with everyone: Fargo, KJ, Robbie Waters, the Plumbers & Pipefitters, the Metro Chamber, and…well, just everyone.  Friday night, I received a recorded message from Waters, utterly lambasting Fargo and throwing his support to KJ. The thing is, the message talked about his disgust with the campaign mudslinging, but it was just a hit piece itself. (Hello, pot. Meet kettle.) And I don’t really care about Waters’ opinion, anyway.

It all makes me want to vote for Shawn Eldredge.

A couple of weeks ago I posted that I’d finally decided to vote for Fargo–with a shrug and a sigh. On Friday morning, the Bee reported that she held a slight lead over KJ–but that’s with nearly 30% of voters undecided. The Bee/KXJZ poll also found that she had a 55% approval rating. Which kind of equates to about a D- if you ask me.  That’s where complacency will get you. Not a good place to be when you’ve got someone with star power, lots of money, and friends in high places nipping at your heels. Also, it doesn’t seem like Richie has managed to teach Heather one of the most important rules of engagement: When they’re shooting at you, stop handing them bullets. (Side note: interesting and almost-relevant you tube vid)

I think this race will be remembered for a long time as a terrible choice for the citizens of Sacramento. It’s ugly, it’s dirty, and no one is going to come out of it with their hands clean. (Well, actually, one person in all this mess seems to be smarter than the rest of the council. That would be the other Kevin–McCarty. Silence as a political statement. Nihilistic perhaps, but not a stupid move sometimes.)

At this point, I’ve stopped caring about this election and these two candidates. I really don’t care who wins because I don’t think either one is going to do a good job, much less a great job.

Aggressive Women in Area 7

Does anyone else remember this song? The guy who wrote it performed it live in the CSUS coffeehouse back when I was an undergrad–so long ago that the guy has probably (a) given up the musician’s life and become an accountant or (b) released several platinum albums.

Area 7 was (maybe still is) a real-estate map reference to the area around Howe Avenue and Sac State–prime student housing land (Remember The Village before the remodel?).

Anyway, I cruised up to Petco and Cost Plus yesterday and got a little reminiscent. Petco is next door to what used to be a nightclub back in the early 90s…I’ve been trying (and failing) to remember the name. I keep thinking “Club Gnaw”–but no, that was the dance club that was located in the ever-so-upscale Country Club Lanes building. (I just so totally dated myself there.) Club Gnaw was a seminal experience: I learned all about dancing til 3 a.m. and then hitting the Lyon’s for breakfast…and about waking up with my hair smelling (nay, reeking) of Obsession and clove cigarettes…and about rolling into work at 8 a.m., still in my clubbing clothes (ew).

With the exception of some in-fill development, the area is still much like it was back when I was an undergrad. Before I left it for the “dark side” that is Area 1. I can only describe it as a cultural shift: One arrives in Sacramento, all fresh-faced and innocent, and promptly installs oneself at an apartment in the logical area near CSUS. But once you graduate, there are choices to be made…I could have stuck with the same group of pals, and I’d probably be living the suburban life in Serrano or Rancho Murieta right now. But the grid beckoned.

What was it? The scene, the bars, the parks, the funky-hip atmosphere of midtown. My “friends”–such as they were–screamed about homeless drunks, high crime rates, and those ugly old buildings (they were referring to the Victorians). Not for them, they said, and told me to look at new apartments with swimming pools and tennis courts and valet dry cleaning.

I leased a tiny, one-bedroom apartment in a pink Victorian 4-plex at 15th and F…across the street from what used to be a bar called Joe’s (it’s now Sandra Dee’s) . The landlord had not had it cleaned before I moved in, so I found the former tenant’s ammo and clumps of fur from his German Shepherd. Next door was Dorothea Puente’s house–although she and her gruesome collection were gone by then.

Our corner had its very own prostitute and pimp. Joe’s provided us with a steady stream of drunks peeing on our fence. We had a crackhouse a few doors down–which meant I’d come home and find people smoking crack on my doorstep. I watched from my apartment window one night as someone broke out my car window and snagged my stereo. Then there was the night of the Sac PD raid, looking for the guy with the ammo and German Shepherd, instead finding a somewhat bewildered short chick. (BTW, the officers looked kinda hot in those bulletproof vests.) Oh, yeah…good times.

The realities of living in Midtown, though, meant taking the bad with the great. Being able to walk and bike everywhere, having the parks and live music and good restaurants nearby. Hanging out at the Weatherstone with its old-school characters. I loved it. And still do. Driving through the Howe/Arden area yesterday reminded me once again that Area 1 is the place I want to be.

Thai food…I *heart* you

One of the things that is great about Sac-town is the availability of awesome food. You want great Mexican? Done. Italian? Done. Pacific Rim fusion? Done. Greek? Done. You get the idea.

I’m surprised when I hear (often) that Sacramento doesn’t have good restaurants…or enough of them. Granted if you compare Sac’s restaurant scene with larger cities, we’ve got fewer. Still, the choices we have are quite rich and varied–unless you’re a die-hard 4-star kinda eater, you’re unlikely to get bored with the selection.  Call me simplistic, but that’s pretty much enough to keep me happy. And even our most expensive restaurants don’t have prices in the stratosphere that is the SF dining scene.

However, even with all the choices we have, I do have my regular hangouts…the places I rely on when I’m just not in the mood to cook and want to eat out in a casual environment (i.e., it doesn’t need to be an “event”). And my fallback food is nearly always Thai. If I was limited to eating only one type of cuisine for the rest of my natural life, it would be Thai food. In every city I’ve lived in, I have made it a priority to find at least one good Thai restaurant as my backup food source.

Drip Irrigation Can Be Fun?

So, when I’m not running around in the dark of night, swapping Obama signs with Hillary signs and KJ signs with Fargo signs,* I’m diligently tending my little organic veggie garden.

Today (yes, Monday morning), I installed a drip irrigation system. Then I sashayed all over midtown with an “I’m conserving more water than you” bumpersticker stuck to my butt. Okay, not really. But seriously, it took me about three hours and was fun–in the sense of logicking-out-a-puzzle fun, not trip-to-remote-Mexican-beach fun.

As you can see…it’s a very simple system, so it’s not like I think I’m a genius…But it’s pretty cool and it was bizarrely enjoyable to lay the whole thing out, figure out how to position the 1/2″ mainline and each of the 10 1/4″ drip lines (hard to see in the photo). In the upper right corner are the tomatoes I finally transplanted. There’s a roma, a brandywine, and a Cherokee red. The 4th tomato cage is for the cherry tomatoes…the first batch of which were devoured by a mouse or bird at the boyfriend’s house.  So a couple of new seedlings are in the works on my kitchen counter.

If you like Despair.com, you’ll love Failblog.org

http://failblog.org/

 

I tripped over this blog while looking for something else. Check out the photo called “Statue Artist Fail.” Two pieces of advice: If you were once a Catholic altar boy, you will not find that particular shot funny. Also, avoid drinking any liquid while scrolling, unless you like it reversing at high speed through your nostrils onto your keyboard.

Tasty Tuli

So, I finally made it to Tuli Bistro last night. A friend and I dropped by for an early dinner on the tiny, but pleasant patio. This is one of those restaurants I’m rooting for–small but lively, and definitely with its own character.

We shared a chop chop salad that was amazingly fresh and crunchy, with not too much dressing and perfectly cubed salami. Yum. We also ordered the creamy tomato soup, which was thick and extremely fresh, with some undertones of basil and garlic that were perfectly done. (I rarely order any type of tomato soup–I fear flashbacks to childhood experiences with the ubiquitous Campbell’s watery cream of tomato soup. However, this one actually rocked.)

For dinner, we shared the “Chicken Little” plate and the Pacific snapper over andouille sausage risotto.

Mayor’s Race: In a word? How about “shenanigan”?

I’m concerned that I may be losing my mind.

I actually agreed with two things Padilla said last night in the mayoral candidates’ forum. First, I thought his comment about mudslinging was great (I can’t re-locate the exact quote…but it was to the effect of: It’s only mudslinging if it’s not true.). Second, he completely showed up KJ and Fargo with his response to the question about which city would he most like Sacramento to resemble. Fargo responded “Portland,” KJ said “Phoenix” (huh?), and Padilla said “Sacramento.” And a big freaking Thank You, Leonard, for that one. He may be a tax-protesting, prison-time serving, self-aggrandizing casino promoter, but at least he has a tiny little clue about what Heather might be overlooking.

If you missed the forum on Wednesday night, you can watch it here.

Adam Daniel withdrew from the race, citing the astonishing statistic that he was unlikely to win. Brilliant deduction. At least by withdrawing, he did one thing right in his shampaign. Richard Jones apparently fell asleep shortly before it was his turn for closing arguments. I want to officially waggle my finger at both of these guys and say “Shame on you.”

Why?