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.