sac state pen.

As the fall semester draws to a close, the same question seems to be perched on everyone’s lips.

“How much longer do you have?”

It’s enough to make you feel like a prisoner comparing sentences with your fellow inmates.

“I’ve still got 18 months.”

“What are you in for?”

“Journalism.”

I find myself wishing it was something more intimidating, but then I would have no friends.

"What's your major?"

"Murder."

On the other hand, fresh meat freshmen all seem really excited to be in on their first stint.  And well they should be.  One’s first time on the inside represents a whole host of learning opportunities.  Fellow inmates… er, students, come from different backgrounds, have all kinds of neat talents, and are here for many different reasons.  

Cellmates, I mean dorm mates, are a gamble, but a good one can be an especially unique resource for learning loads of useful skills.  Illegal downloading for instance, or pyrotechnics.  Maybe even how to talk to girls, and if that fails, how to mix a roofie-colada.

But none of us are new for long.  After a few years, one’s outlook can change drastically.

You can always pick out the soon-to-graduate crowd.  They’re the ones who (in trying to please the parole board) are busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest.  However, those same people will love to tell you, with an optimistic smile, about their plans for the outside.

“As soon as I’m done here, my girlfriend and I are getting married.”

Or:

“I’m planning to go south to find work.”

And sometimes, from the truly brave:

“My parents said I could move back in with them.”

“Good plan,” I like to reply.  “Just say you went to high school in Oregon, otherwise keep your mouth shut.  And don’t let them get a whiff of the time you spent in this joint or you’re done for.”

There is another category of people within our program that have unfortunately become totally institutionalized.  These folks have spent time a lot of time on both sides of the fence, and adopt a less hopeful perspective toward a future on the outside.  They know that, realistically, there isn’t much in the way of jobs even after serving all their time.

“Why get out now and hunt my ass off only to work at a coffee shop for minimum wage?  If I recommit, I can continue living in this system forever while I form a gangster posse and build up mad street cred.”

Or in this case, do some networking and earn a Ph.D. and a teaching credential.

While on one hand I'm definitely grouping all college students into one of three groups (the energetic new arrivals; the hard working but tired upperclassmen; and the completely poisoned) I realize there is bound to be some overlap.  Of course there are some first-years who realize this just isn’t for them, and have already decided to throw in the towel.  Or maybe someone in the doctoral program for French literature is just genuinely passionate about Balzac.

Regardless, all those conveyed through the system will exit the other end as completely improved humans, indoctrinated with correct thinking, capable of being productive citizens and no longer prone to any of those old bad habits this place was meant to break them of.

 

And here I thought the analogy was going to break down at some point.

Thanksgiving is just nuts.

Once again Thanksgiving is at our throats.  I’ve been hiding in my room for weeks, but I can just imagine the heathens outside racking up grocery tabs worthy of layaway, being bombarded by a warm-up round of pre-Christmas ad campaigns around every public corner, and maybe some of the more experienced gluttons ramping up their metabolism for the smorgasbord to come.

I can’t tell you how upset I am knowing that these holidays are out in such force.  I had a dangerous brush with Halloween just last month, which I narrowly escaped, but the experience nearly gave me an ulcer.

However, thinking back on my childhood as I peek through the blinds, I seem to remember something warm and fuzzy going on in these last months of the year.  I vaguely recall learning the values of “family” and “tradition” and “raking the yard.”  Maybe I’m exaggerating the first two, but I’m fairly sure we were all related, and if you have to rake the yard before dinner every year, it’s technically a tradition.

Yes the holiday’s are here, God help us, and not an escape route in sight.  In this moment of widespread gluttony and commercial frenzy, I like to lock the door, mail order some more MREs, and take a lesson from the old school, contemplating the years blessings.

Initially, I was going to give thanks for gainful employment.  But not showing up at the docks for three weeks straight tends to curdle work relationships.  Blaming one’s absence on a completely rational fear of holidays, or leaving messages describing one's home defense measures in detail both do little to preserve one’s credibility through January.

I was next inclined to give thanks for the ready availability of food.  It seemed only right to do so since large portions of the world still struggle with rampant vegetarianism.  But unfortunately, as mentioned earlier, my MREs have gone the way of the buffalo; I was back to square one.

Annoyed, I waxed philosophical.  Surely, living in the greatest country in the world had to have some obvious perks that I could draw from.

“Free speech!” I shouted triumphantly.  But the words echoed metallically within the walls of my dark, empty studio attic.  Only some of the more astute pedestrians seemed to notice.

“Good point,” I replied.  What good is freedom of speech if you have absolutely nobody to speak to?  Disappointment settled in again.

I put down my rifle, and slouched against the wall with a sharp piece of metal to take serious stock of what I was sure were innumerable blessings.

Ammunition:  I definitely have plenty of that.  A clean criminal history:  Check! knock on wood.  That I am not a zombie:  An obvious fact considering my complete indifference to brains of late.  Health:  I am a picture of health.  Why just last Halloween I bagged a 180 pound M&M with my bare hands.

Heck, I felt better already.  All it took was a little brainstorming to come up with a few things that I could really be thankful for.  Suddenly I felt entirely optimistic about the holidays.  I smiled and took off my wig.  What was I doing all cooped up in this place anyway?  I had nothing to be afraid of.  I just need to get out into the world and share my newly discovered gratitude.  With any luck, I’ll have cured the whole town of their materialism and greed by Christmas!

I’m going to turn over a new leaf.  I’m going to get all spruced up, throw some M&M on the barbecue and invite everyone I know to a good old fashioned Thanksgiving picnic.  Heck, maybe even make some new friends. And just like that, another thing to be thankful for.

ABC’s new docu-drama My Generation tries to emulate reality television. The result is something even worse.

When you watch as little television as I do, the prospect of writing a column on it is a little daunting.  So with no point of reference, I simply typed “season 1” into hulu.com’s search bar and let fate be my guide.  The results were mystifying.  After scrolling through 20 or so episodes of Jimmy Kimmel Live, and something about monkeys, I spotted what appeared to be a docu-drama by ABC about nine classmates from a Texas high school and how their lives changed from 2000 to 2010.  Sounded good enough, I thought it had real potential.

            While the premise of the show may have had promise, the product was a nightmare.  My Generation (Thursdays, 8/7 central) is a purely scripted television drama that starts by interviewing nine American teen archetypes on their high school graduation in 2000, then projects them ten years into the future for further observation.  The characters include an overachiever, a jock, a beauty queen, a punk, a nerd, a rocker, a rich kid, a brain, and a wallflower.  While it may sound intriguing, what ensues is nothing short of painful. 

            All the characters are oblivious and one-dimensional; the plot is shallow and predictable; and the dialogue is unintelligent, lethargic, and entirely void of anything stimulating or worthwhile.  It’s as if ABC scouted out the most superficial high school students in the country, asked them to sketch out their nine most common character stereotypes, and then outsourced the scriptwriting to the cast of survivor.

            While the clock reminded me that I was only wasting one hour per episode, it felt like it just wouldn’t end.  Flashing between mini-plots may have worked for such films as It’s A Mad Mad Mad Mad World, but My Generation simply doesn’t have the substance to hold one’s interest long enough to wait around for any kind of resolution.  The dilemma’s are unremarkable, and the resolutions are unsatisfying if they even exist.

            I felt like the messages of this show, maybe something like impermanence, or maturity, or some variation on “expect the unexpected” were totally lost in the contrived one liners and flat, fake interviews. 

Everything feels way too micromanaged in a way, what I mean is, every scene focuses so narrowly on the present emotion or suggested brain activity of the characters that nothing is ever really SAID.  There is never any deeper meaning.  Heck, there is never even any suggested meaning.  It all sort of meanders in a series of touchy feely and dead-end interactions between a bunch of people who obviously don’t share a single genuine human emotion between them.  Sadness looks like discomfort, anger looks like they’re late for an appointment, happiness looks like trying to humor someone, awkwardness looks like they can’t wait to check their facebook, it’s all just so nonsensical that I barely made it through the first five or ten minutes before cracking a beer.

            Unfortunately I ran out of beer, and had to grind my teeth through this catastrophe sober.

            Overall, this show is a disaster.  It’s too staged and flat to come across as good reality, and it’s too boring and predictable to be good drama.  Had the producers departed from the safe middle and gone farther to either side of the spectrum (either raw reality or creativity) this show could have been good, and I think as a result if the actors had been given better material, it could have been downright enjoyable. 

            Too little substance, too cliché, spread too thin over too many characters.  Sorry ABC, but this show is a lobotomy.

           

Happy Hour at Lucca Restaurant and Bar: a reasonably affordable way to drink while avoiding boxed wine and brown bagged beer.

Good deals on city outings are hard to find, but in a place like Sacramento, sometimes what you’re looking for is right under your nose.  Such is the case with Lucca Bar and Restaurant at 1615 J Street in Downtown Sacramento.  Unless you’ve been to Lucca before, you probably won’t spot it hiding behind the trees out front.  It sits just across J street from the bread store, and kitty corner from P. F. Changs.  There’s plenty of parking on both sides of the building, and a shaded patio on the west wall is neatly set with cafe tables.

Upon entering the establishment shortly after 3:30 in the afternoon on a Friday, I was relieved to find that Lucca is not a posh and stuffy clubhouse for rich downtown elitists and suited professionals.  Instead I walked into a cool, chatty yet polished and classy bar.  A queen sized mirror hung on the right hand wall over a spacious, suave bar which ran along the high tables in the right hand section while tables on the left side of the house were reserved for dinner guests. 

I met a party of classmates on the bar side for happy hour, and immediately ordered a “Poppy Jasper” Amber Ale from El Toro brewing company out of Morgan Hill, Calif.  The Ale was malty, roasty, a tiny bit hoppy and mildly bitter, but more like caramel and toasted brown bread.  At $3 I don’t expect more than a Pabst, but Poppy Jasper was incredibly drinkable and refreshing.  I could've had ten.

For the sake of good science, and because I’m a sucker for variety, we decided to take the largest sample possible for our testing and just get one of everything off the happy hour menu.  This might sound overly ambitious at first, but the items were mostly little nibbling plates at $1-$3 each.  I did the math and realized we would spend less than $10 apiece.  Coming from a long line of skinflints, I was elated, and reserved the remaining contents of my pocketbook for beer. 

First came the Zucchini chips, a deceptively simple coin jar of vegetable snippets, pleasantly crunchy and, although fried, not at all greasy on the fingers.  Unfortunately they were not served with any dip, but we ate them all and didn’t seem to mind.  They were delicious even unsalted.

Parmesan fries with truffle dip sounded like a must, but they left something to be desired.  The fries weren’t cooked long enough for my taste, but by themselves were good while hot, and I appreciated that the parmesan was distributed evenly instead of just sitting on top of the bunch.  The truffle dip wasn’t nearly rich enough, and definitely too bland to compete with something as sharp as parmesan.  It only carried a slight hint of the pungently sweet and earthy truffle, but ultimately tasted more like potting soil flavored mayonnaise that may have been left out too long.

I really love seafood, and almost abstained from eating until the waitress brought out the Mussels cooked in garlic white wine.  They were fresh and tender, not rubbery at all, and absolutely delicious.  Even after we had stuffed ourselves we ordered extra bread to soak up the pool of mouth watering buttery wine and garlic sauce at the bottom of the dish.

One of the best items, if not the single most remarkable food at the table, was the Italian meatball with polenta and marinara sauce.  The meatball was a treat on its own: moist, garlicky and well herbed, however, the polenta was indescribable.  It was without a doubt, the smoothest and creamiest polenta I’ve ever tasted, and I worked in a kitchen in Tuscany for nine months.  If for no other reason, visit Lucca for the polenta, it is a triumph.

            The all natural LDR burger was another culinary victory.  A juicy, herbed patty from beef raised on the owners own Lucky Dog Ranch in Dixon sat in a soft, fresh bun from The Bread Store across the street.  The fresh produce was served on the side as I like it: firm but juicy tomato, crisp lettuce, sweet and hot purple onion, poupon mustard, and tangy thin sliced dill pickles.  It was a little pink for a medium-well, but at $5 I could have a gourmet lunch here on any day of the week.

            Flatbread and hummus was a good idea, and very edible, but didn’t deliver everything I wanted from it.  The flatbread was a little bland, and undercooked, but the toasted cheese on top was really tasty.  I couldn’t help thinking the two ingredients demanded different cooking times.  The hummus was plenty salty, but a little dry and pasty, almost chalky.  I wanted more traditional flavors like olive oil, garlic, and paprika.

            The grilled steak skewer with herb sauce was a definite winner in regards to taste, but looks pitifully small when presented all alone on its little plate.  The meat was good, though a bit under-seasoned and not as tender as I had expected.  The herb sauce was a zinger: spicy and deep, aromatic and peppery, something like a thicker, darker pesto made from what tasted like basil, oregano, thyme, and black and red peppers.

I switched to the Sudwerk Hefeweizen and cleared my palate with the clean yeasty brew.  It was a delightfully light and dry Bavarian style hefeweizen, served with a lemon, and only cost $3. I hoped the Hefeweisen would pair well with the fruit chutney served with brie and walnuts, but the chutney was a little off.  It looked like chopped apple and/or pear pickled with what appeared to be mustard seeds, but was far too bitter and vinegary to enjoy.  It may have been a bad batch, but was definitely a stinker.

The other dishes were equally good, though less novel or remarkable in my opinion.  There was an eclectic plate of mixed, unpitted olives in all sizes; smokey almonds which were not as spicy as advertised; a tender, buttery grilled half artichoke served with chipotle aioli that definitely packed some heat; and a simple, fresh chopped side salad of red and green cabbage topped with crumbled brie and dressed in oil and vinegar. 

The waitress also brought us a sample of the newest vegetarian appetizer, cauliflower fritters, that had thin crispy fried outsides and were surprisingly smooth and creamy inside.  They were served with a red dipping sauce made from harissa, a spicy, North African paprika.

Lucca has everything I could ask for in a happy hour:  Good food and beer, classy decor, and prices that will satisfy the tightest of penny pinchers.  The atmosphere was relaxed, free and breezy, but still made me feel important and cultured.  I give it a nine out of ten, and will definitely be back for more.

November 2nd election predictions.

The California general election takes place today, and it’s been quite an ordeal getting here.  We have made it through another season of political canvassing, gubernatorial mudslinging, televised campaign ads and various other forms of misinformation to finally arrive at the home stretch.  Very shortly, we will receive news of the victories and defeats, the celebrations and the disappointment, and whether or not we can smoke pot, postpone environmental cleanup, or pass the state budget with a simple majority.

Prop 19 concerns legalizing marijuana for recreational use to be regulated, taxed, and controlled by local government.  It seems like a good place to start since it makes for a light introduction and you probably won’t read all the way through redrawing congressional districts.  I think Prop 19 will fail because even within the current marijuana industry there are large parties disagreeing with it.  Too many people see it as a scam, or a grab by large scale medical growers to secure the market for themselves and eventually lock on to the lions share of production and sales.

Prop 20 transfers the authority to draw congressional districts from elected representatives to a 14 person redistricting committee.  I think it will pass because it appears to have little financial impact on voters while at the same time offering them a chance to take a sinister sounding power away from those who appear to misuse it.  People don’t trust politicians, and even though this doesn’t really take them out of the picture, voters will probably see this as an upgrade.

Prop 21 would impose an additional $18 fee when you license a vehicle, and put that money towards the state parks.  All charged vehicles also get free admission to all state parks.   I don’t think this will pass because nobody goes to state parks anymore, and most people already hate giving the DMV money. 

Prop 22 would prohibit the state from borrowing from, taking money from, or delaying the distribution of tax revenues to funds for transportation, redevelopment or local government.  I think this will pass because people are frustrated and confused by government spending.  This seems like it will keep money where it is intended to go, and whether that’s true or not people will probably like it because transportation, redevelopment, and local government spending sound like important things that will probably affect me personally.  People want to feel like they’re making a change for the better, and this sounds good, so I think it has a good chance.

Prop 23 would suspend the implementation of a previous air pollution control law, AB 32, until unemployment drops to 5.5 percent for a full year.  I don’t think this will pass because most Californians are pretty environmentally conscious and don’t want the evil polluters to continue pouring emissions into the environment unchecked. Furthermore, the anti 23 campaign has made themselves known across the state through voter outreach, and an unemployment level of 5.5 percent seems awfully optimistic for a prerequisite goal.

Prop 25 changes the legislative vote requirement to pass a state budget and other budget related legislation from a two-thirds vote to a simple majority.  I don’t know about this one because on one side there is a lot of frustration over this years ridiculously late budget, but on the other hand, many people realize that whatever party is the majority could misuse it.  If I had to pick a side, I would say that it will pass, simply because it sounds more streamlined.

Prop 27 is the opposite of Prop 20.  27 would eliminate the 14 person redistricting committee, and concentrate redistricting power with elected officials.  I don’t think this stands a snowballs chance in hell.  Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

momblog, not a metal band

In this big old crazy world of mass media, Politics, entertainment and advertising, where our personal communication gizmos string us out on sensory entertainment and propaganda served fresh from the information superfreeways and interwebs, we’ve got plenty of different voices in our heads.   

But amidst all the hubbub there is a voice of comfort, a voice of good old fashioned common sense and country wisdom.  It’s the voice of a mom; the sound, battle tested mother and writer Laura Snyder.  Snyder writes a nationally syndicated humor column called Laura On Life which can be read in many magazines, online publications, and over 100 newspapers nationally.  She is also a public speaker, author of two books, and board member of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists.   In her column, she addresses all aspects of home life, raising kids, and being a mom, but mothers aren’t the only readers that Snyder’s experiences, tone and perspective resonate with.  Anyone who had a mother, or a childhood will appreciate the column.

            Snyder has such a wide appeal because what she’s writing about applies to everybody.  Even if you’re not white, or don’t live in North Carolina like Laura, you can still appreciate the family hilarity recounted in full detail.  All the content for Snyder’s column comes from her ordinary everyday experiences as a mother of five.  Now five is a lot, especially when it’s kids, so I presume that lot’s of parents probably feel encouraged to read about someone balancing childrearing with sanity.  At the same time, writing about all of this is therapeutic for Snyder.

            At the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, Snyder is a board member and treasurer.  She contributes an online column called Snyders Block for their website.  She has won several awards for her writing and speaking. 

Snyder is also the author of two books, the first called, Laura On Life:  Wahoo For Dinner! and the other, Laura On Life: Corn Dogs and Dust Bunnies.  These works have constantly been the source of humor for her readers, as well as being comforting and enriching.  Something between chicken soup for the soul and Paula Dean.

Snyder’s reputation for heart warming anecdotes of childhood innocence and family lessons learned through comical circumstances all leading up to a bigger moral definitely doesn’t come unearned.  Her columns portray exactly the kind of innocent hijinks we would expect from Opie or “the Beav,” and the comfortable world of home that’s so hard to reclaim once deserted.  Her depictions of family life are comical, but they are also substantial and wholesome, reminding me constantly of when I was younger or something that would have happened in my own family.  These scenarios represent more than meets the eye.  It’s not about one instance of the event, it’s about the fact that millions of people can tune in and relive a comforting sliver of what mom used to mean in our lives.

            Snyder’s writing style is clever and clear.  Her pictures are always vivid and her pace, emotion and narrative are always perfectly balanced.  You can tell that Snyder has been writing for a long time and has a handle on the craft.  Snyder also makes liberal use of puns and jokes as well as cute euphemisms and nicknames, allegory used to teach lessons, analogy to illustrate differences, and two sided story telling.  

What make Snyder such a likeable and enduring writer does not include the use of gimmickery, cheap wisecracks, or any sponsorship deal with lunchables or anyone like that.  What makes Snyder so widely and steadfastly read is her genuine and constant retelling of the back and forth, ups and downs, and ins and outs of parenthood.

Marijuana, are we putting too much pressure on you?

A lot of people are talking about what Marijuana can do for them. 

For years it’s been praised as a pain reliever for back pain or headaches.  It’s also used to induce or suppress appetite, calm anxiety, or improve circulation.

According to proponents of the legalization measure (prop 19), marijuana doesn't just relieve physical or psychosomatic complaints, it also cures border violence, prison crowding and cumulative economic ailments.

I hear that pot will fix the drug violence on the Mexican border, but how that is supposed to happen, I don’t know.  Is anyone really expecting the whole thing to end?  Like, everyone in Mara Salvatrucha is going to get laid off because the pot they’ve been trying to sell just became legal to their target market?

We just can’t say how this legalization could affect the virtually invisible drug market, trafficking from Mexico could increase for all we know.  The cartels could get an American business license and sell it here in neat little white and green packs with a grinning sombreroed man on the seal.  It’ll be the next Corona.

I also hear that prop 19 will thin out our prisons since marijuana possession will no longer be a crime.  First of all, none of these new releases are going to be boy scouts.  Second, all of these prisoners are going to create a sudden and unexpected pressure on our job market when they begin taking jobs.  Well, maybe. (I don’t know which is worse).

The taxes generated by prop 19 are also supposed to save our finances.  The State Board of Equalization originally claimed that marijuana’s legalization could generate $1.4 billion in tax revenues.  But that was then. 

Now, they admit to having no idea what is going to happen.  Their original estimate was based on Assemblyman Tom Ammiano’s suggestion of $50 per ounce, but that was just an arbitrary, almost hypothetical figure.  They don’t even have a plan for tax implementation, and their analysis says that coming up with such a system is going to be “difficult.”

Making pot available over the counter is also supposed to eliminate crime surrounding street drug dealing to some degree.  After all, why buy drugs from a guy in an alley when you can safely choose from 20 different kinds at the pot store.

This ignores two things.  First, it fails to see that drug dealers handle more than just cannabis, meaning other substances will undoubtedly remain in street trade, and possibly expand to fill marijuana’s economic void.  Second, depending on price changes, holding or transporting large amounts of cannabis could make you a target for violent theft. 

At this point, I feel like legalization is inevitable, if not imminent.  I don't think we should put so much responsibility on pot to fix our problems, I think we should just smoke it.  My main question is, how can I make money off of this?

Plan A, I could begin a standard drug sales operation.  Buy cannabis, sell it for a profit, only walk away with enough margin for a cup of coffee. 

Plan B, would be to start a homegrown operation.  Buy lights, maybe hydroponics, and start a garden in my greenhouse or basement.  No middleman = all the profits go to me = I could make a living off of this.

Then there’s plan pot-tastic, which takes me strait to the top.  Representatives from major cigarette companies like Phillip Morris and R. J. Reynolds have confirmed that they will not be venturing into the pot market and I think it's a huge mistake.  I will buy land in Northern California, procure commercial cigarette rolling equipment, lawyers, and vending machines, and institute Roundtree brand  marijuana cigarettes.  

It will be the Marlboro of marijuana, the Parliament of pot, the Camel of kush.  I’ll have reefer up for sale any place cigarettes are found, and more. the movies, Starbucks, college campuses.  I will set up my farming franchises along the California coast and build a rolling and packaging factory in Redding, or maybe Chico.  I’ll have distribution trucks shipping tons of marijuana to every major city in California and I’ll make millions in the process.

Mexico's Consul General droned on predictably for an hour... But his English was superb.

Monday morning, in the Sac State University Ballroom, Mexican Consul General Carlos Gonzalez-Gutierrez spoke to a crowd of around 500 people.  Along with university students and faculty, several junior high classes were in attendance.

Now, I can't decide what's worse:  Making 12 year olds listen to an hour long monologue on international relations that even I almost slept through, or writing a speech simple enough for a 12-year-old and delivering it to a university audience. 

Unfortunately, I think we got both.

You might think that these two are contradictory, that a speech intended for 12-year-olds would probably be a bit more engaging, or that the kind of speeches I typically nod off during are of the important or too-complicated variety.  I simply contend that a speech can be boring and empty at the same time, especially if they are made by government officials.

I was hoping for some helpful insight from the Consul General, real ideas of what could, should or shouldn't be done about things like immigration reform and drug trafficking.  What I got was a three bullet point lecture on what a consulate does, acknowledgement of the fact that narco-violence is "a real problem," and an optimistic peek into the future of California/Mexico relations.

Considering his young audience, I thought Gonzalez-Gutierrez would have more to say on how our country’s rampant drug use continues to fund an army of murdering drug dealers and corrupt law enforcement figures.  The closest he got to an anti drug plea was vaguely asking for “participation.”

"It is necessary to have participation of all those involved in the chain of drug trade, so that there is hope of significantly reducing the levels of violence,” said Gonzalez-Gutierrez.

I thought he would talk about what is being done to curb the increasing rates of murder and kidnap.  He referred to the drug trafficking and violence problem as something that, “can only be addressed with determination and prompt action."

Exactly what prompt action he was referring to has yet to be seen.

Everyone likes to buy local; we could legalize and manufacture the drugs here in the United States.  As long as the price is comparable, another source for drugs takes the monopoly away from the cartels.  Why risk life and limb dealing with illegal drugs when you could legally purchase your fix from one of 20 potential crack or heroin dispensaries in Sacramento alone.  The problem with this solution is lack of support for the legalization of cocaine, methamphetamine, MDMA, and the 2 above mentioned schedule-1 substances which make up a far larger portion of the drug trade than marijuana. 

Another approach: if we boycott illegal Mexican drugs in the United States it would starve the cartels into unemployment.  Although, convincing millions of people to quit their favorite drug is going to be a tough sell.

Or, we could continue president Calderon’s approach:  directly oppose the violent gangs by fortifying police and military forces in the trouble areas.  This has had a significant effect on drug cartels, but reciprocal violence has escalated at the same time.  Naturally, a cornered animal will retaliate.

In 2005, the recorded death toll reached 1000 bodies by mid September.  Murder rates have regularly and steadily increased each year.  In 2010, the 1000^th death was on February third.  What used to take them nine months to accomplish now happens in one month and three days. 

Maybe it’s darkest before the dawn, or maybe the pressure from Calderon’s war on drugs is angering cartel bosses into retaliation.  Either way, this is a multifaceted issue which probably needs to be solved by a mixture of policy and changing attitudes.  If we want to bring the drug traffickers under control we need our public figures (especially those who work in relevant fields) to engage themselves and us in the issue and take steps toward a real solution together.

Phlagle-blah... But thanks for all the free stuff.

Sacramento State’s Student Union building held its 11th annual “Phlagleblast” open house to welcome and orientate students (mainly freshmen) into what will become, for many of them, a favorite hangout. 

“The Union,” as it is affectionately called among students, is something like an office building with a food court, even a bit like a mini mall, but really nothing like a jungle.  Unfortunately, nobody informed the event’s coordinators of this fact, so large areas of the lobby were naively plastered with paper vines and foliage.  Nobody was fooled.

On top of the childish decorating scheme, Phlagleblast also boasted a roaming magician, and a balloon artist.  A trained magician I can understand, but how a simple balloon artist would manage to survive in the jungle is beyond me. 

Where are we, a six-year-old’s birthday party?  Where’s the clown and slip’n’slide?  This is open house at a university multipurpose complex not a grade school dance.  We only do this once a year for crying out loud; let’s hire a good dj, get a keg, and barbeque some ribs.

To get people walking around the building, everyone entering the jungle was given a large card with a checklist and instructions for the scavenger hunt.  Essentially, every business and office in the building had a different stamp for you to collect, they also all gave out free crap to help you justify all that exercise.  If you got a stamp from every booth on all three floors you could enter your card in a drawing to win one of several covetable prizes like an Ipad, a new mountain bike, or a two-person Dr. Pepper tent. 

Apart from the tent, I was disappointed.  This stamp gathering business was supposed to acquaint students with all the nooks and crannies of the union which they would otherwise never see, and in my opinion it was a joke.  Sure in theory it got the students to physically walk through an area of the building, but it required nothing more than wordlessly waving your checklist under the noses of anyone with a stamp in their hand.   My card was completed in less than 20 minutes and I hadn’t learned a single thing.

I think that whoever organizes this thing needs to adopt a new approach if they want people to really understand the Union.  The scavenger hunt was a good start, but prizes that expensive could have commanded a lot more effort from students than just skipping through an all you can eat stamp buffet.  Students could learn and remember more if we came up with a mechanism to keep them engaged for longer than a few seconds. 

What if the stamps were more like jeopardy questions?  The card could have brief descriptions of all the different offices and businesses –their role, functions and services- but blank titles. 

An example:  “Get coffee & espresso, panini, soups and salads here. We also have daily specials at our grill.  You can eat here in our dining area or take your food to-go.” 

To get this stamp, the student has to match this description to the proper shop (obviously the Java City Buzz), but by reading the description he or she has actually learned a little something about this shop and what it offers.  There would of course be hints like this applying to all restaurants, student services offices, the game room, and everyone else in the building.

They advertise a big party; lure students into the Union with free crap; use the real expensive stuff to get us scavenging every corner of the building and in the process most of us should absorb at least a rudimentary idea of how the union operates.  I see what the coordinators were trying to do, but while having everyone give away free stuff is a great way to get students off the beaten path, far too much emphasis fell on collecting booty while the getting was good, and maybe not enough fell on the Union.

Even the event’s name, “Phlagleblast,” is of dubious origin.  One possible root comes from the Dutch “phlagele” for a romantic surprise, and “blats” meaning to beat without mercy.  Another translation comes from “flaangeblwts,” a Gaelic word for the old bait-and-switch. 

In truth, the name “Phlagleblast” is completely meaningless and only serves as a colorful misnomer to make an open house sound like a lot more fun than it really is. 

Second saturday goes sour. Crowds, catcalls and killings. Who saw that coming?

Sacramento, CA. -  Second Saturday's once pleasant and refreshing art walk has clearly deteriorated into something less than savory.  This past weekend, Victor Hugo Perez Zavala was shot dead and three others were injured when an unidentified gunperson opened fire in a crowd outside the Streets of London pub in midtown.

As I recall, Second Saturday used to be a mellow, even somewhat classy affair where local artists showcased their works, people tasted wine, live local bands played rock and blues and midtown businesses opened their doors to the roaming pedestrian.  It typically appealed to families, the middle-aged and the artsy crowd, surely drawing it's fair share of underage hooligans and riff raff, but on the whole not serving up anything worse than noise complaints, a whole lot of foot traffic, and something to clean up in the morning.

Now (grinding teeth), riding a bike down J street means taking your life in your hands.  Trying to enter a bar means getting stared down by thick, aggressive men.   The crowd has tripled and the cheerful Birkenstock wearing art and wine snobs (the best kind of snob) seem to be outnumbered ten-to-one by the surly gang affiliate, the high-school dropout/alcoholic, or the chain smoking punk.

Not that I've got anything against drinking, smoking or being surly (there's a time and a place for everything), but I do feel like something once fresh has turned terribly sour.  No longer is Second Saturday about neighbors joining neighbors for a respectable, light hearted stroll through one of the best parts of the city.  Now it’s like a county fair without the rides or animals, or an all ages night club with traffic for 30 square blocks.

What a nightmare; even in theory this scenario terrifies me.  No wonder someone got shot, I'm just surprised it took this long.

If you’ve held a few house parties, you know that there are certain laws of nature governing attendance and how the night unfolds.  It starts at a medium pace with close friends who clearly belong there and who you probably invited personally. You eventually admit there’s plenty of room for everyone, and besides, how often does an opportunity come up to really truly party, right?  So you send out the mass text.  Friends tag along with friends and things proceed to rage.  If conditions are perfect the party goes over swimmingly, everyone has a great time, crashes at 6 am, and we all go to breakfast together one big hung over family.  Happy ending.

On the other hand, the more likely scenario is that once the crowds arrive you realize that you don’t know half the people in your house.  Purses and cell phones go missing, fights break out, a few windows break, and you ultimately pull the cord on it.  It just happens.

Like a party, if Second Saturday’s attendance spikes, if the facilitators loose control, if guests lose respect for each other or have a chip on their shoulder, this is when the fights break out and things get stolen or vandalized.

This shooting has only accelerated the curdling of what was once a nice community event, if not been the catalyst to its downfall. Next month, all the respectable law abiding citizens are going to stay home in fear of their lives while every roughneck from miles arround turns our neighborhood into the Wild West.  Second Saturday may never recover to its former glory even if we take drastic action to clean it up.  It's all downhill from here.

I say burn it down and start over.

Dear bikers: STFU! Love Paul.

We've all heard them: Anywhere from one to one hundred motorcyclists roaring through our neighborhood, past our church, or by the cafe where we are enjoying a peaceful cup of coffee and a newspaper. For me, this experience lands somewhere between a train going through my bedroom, and holding jackhammer practice in the library annex. In short, teeth grindingly irritating.
The loud motorcycle is not only irritating, it monopolizes the attention of everyone within a city block. Once those bastards roar into earshot you can't even hear yourself think, much less sustain a civilized conversation (or really communicate anything below a red faced, throat splitting scream).

Lucky for people like me, the California state Senate passed a bill this month that would prohibit motorcycles from customizing their exhaust systems to spout anything more than 80 decibels. For those of us (like me) who have no idea how loud 80 decibels are, you can imagine a heated argument between your roommates over who has had the most to drink that night. If you don't have roommates, or spend more time cleaning than socializing, just think of a vacuum cleaner.

The bill (god bless it) still has to cross the governor's desk to be put into action, but the potential wrench in the proverbial gears is that Schwarzenegger himself is something of a motorcycle enthusiast, and could veto it for the sake of good old American liberty.

The Governor has already vetoed a bill this year that would have prevented smoking on all state parks and beaches. Some suspect this was a personal choice since Schwarzenegger himself is fond of cigars.

As quoted in the Sacramento Bee, President Mike Levison of the Southern California Harley Riders Association called the bill, "another example of government intrusion into our lifestyle."

Oh really?

Let me postulate, Mr. Levison, that if I and 50 of my friends trotted through your neighborhood blowing air horns at 1 a.m. you would damn sure enlist the government to intrude on my lifestyle. Grow up.

You can't rob entire neighborhoods of their peaceful quiet, generally antagonize the aural senses of anyone within earshot, and then simply chalk it up to "our lifestyle." It's simply not cricket. You wouldn't drive around in a truck full of rancid tuna salad, or run around waving LED flashlights or magnesium flares in people's faces, no, that's crazy talk. Noise at this level is beyond ridiculous, it borders on assault.

On the other hand, one legitimate argument has been raised for those opposed to this bill: Certain custom motorcycle outfitters make their business from selling aftermarket exhaust pipes, jet turbines and other noise amplifying apparatus, but would obviously stand to lose a lot if this bill passed. The question is what will happen to them if their wares are outlawed.

Here's my question: What percentage of their business is made up from the sales of noise-pipes? If it's enough to put them out of business then I say good riddance, and enough harm done. Open a barbeque dealership for all I care, only so long as you don’t equip them with trumpets and dinner bells. If, on the other hand, their catalogues are full of useful things like glowing blue undercarriages, tiny helmets, and shirts that say “if you can read this, the bitch fell off” then they don’t have anything to worry about.

Once more into the breach...

After a long summer of adventure, leisure, and recovery, I once again rationalize committing 16 weeks of my youth to academic chores. What am I thinking?

I could be backpacking through the Alps or reading by the fire, learning to sail or painting a sunset. There are literally hundreds of things I would rather do with my autumn than hole up in Sacramento to study, and just thinking about the opportunity cost almost leaves me in tears.

However, I have done this before.  With enough discipline, concentration, and self pacifying mantras like “People with college degrees earn an average of 40% more than their peers with only a high school diploma,” I will temporarily forget the fun I'm missing out on and power through another spirit crushing semester.

The first week is always the weirdest. The campus is mobbed with overdressed strangers. Inevitably, my classes will be so full that the last three or four people to arrive will be left leaning awkwardly against the radiator until the instructor weeds out the wait list hopefuls and crushes their freshman optimism.

Some professors I've had before, some I've never heard of, some are so bizarre that I suspect they came up with a stage crazy personality just to keep the attention of their students.

I join every uncomfortably silent class of avoiding eyes for the same first-day lecture about the food and drink policy, plagiarism, and office hours, and to have the syllabus spoon-fed to me for over an hour.  I can't help thinking that if the syllabus had been emailed out the previous weekend we could have gone over it ourselves, then after some basic questions and clarifications on Monday we could have gotten directly down to business.

The first few readings and assignments are never very difficult, but switching mental gears from summer slouch to academic powerhouse always is. Trying to get through one chapter of Economics reading feels like I’m trying to gnaw my own arm off. All I can think about is the river and the sun, all the decent weather I’m wasting and how soon I can go for a bike ride. Furthermore, I didn’t even finish my summer reading. Now I have to put it away in favor of supply/demand graphs and negative externalities until Christmas? I’m going to forget the entire plot and all the character development and have to start the book all over again. I think I’ve read the first ten chapters of Savage Detectives three times.

On the bright side, and speaking of books, class texts weren’t too pricey this year. I think it was under $100 out the door for all but one of my textbooks, and many professors are putting their readings online. About damn time.  It’s always encouraging to see the faculty making our lives as students easier. It makes me think that through the fog of old age they might retain a hazy image of what it was like.

More good news, the new gym/wellness center is open for business and looks like somewhere I could waste a lot of valuable studying time.

“People with college degrees earn on average 40% more… People with college degrees earn on average 40% more...”