Wah / Mosquito Alarm / Mao’s Kitchen
Chicago suburban school board member attempts to ban books from the required reading list… Without having even read them herself.
My eyes are swollen with tears of hatred at your dumbness, lady. You aren’t just dumb. You’re dum. You don’t even deserve a “B” at the end of the word of what you are.
The article says that various church groups have allied themselves with this woman. If I were them I would backpedal as far away possible. Doesn’t having stupid people arguing for your side only serve to invalidate your position?
Via Poe-News, scientists have developed and deployed a siren that emits a noise that only kids can hear; people twenty or older tend to not be able to hear the frequency. It’s similar to a dog whistle for kids.
This is being used in malls to annoy away gangs of teenagers.
In a twist of counter-technology, now some kids are actually using the noise as a ringtone in order to be alerted to incoming calls without their teachers knowing.
Here is the sound. Play it for yourself and see if you can hear it.
We had dinner at Mao’s Kitchen in Venice. Everything was pretty good, and I recommend it. If only it wasn’t named after a mass murderer!!! 
More themed restaurant ideas: Stalin’s Steakhouse, Andrew Jackson’s Trail of Tears Tavern, The Hot Pol Pot.
Plus Mao wasn’t a fan of brushing his teeth. EVER.
UPDATE: Through scientific experiments, Kim has proven that The Sound is audible to hamsters as well as children. When played, her hamster stops running in its wheel. When turned off, the hamster continues on its merry way. Good job Kim!
An Old Friend
One downside of not smoking is that I don’t get to use my Zippo anymore.
I have this classic steel Zippo lighter that I carried around for years. CHAK-click! I never, ever left home without it. The Promethean gift of fire, the stone age technological equivalent of the atomic bomb, right in your hand.
I’ve resurrected its use again recently. I bought some incense from everyone’s favorite corner store (FAMIMA!!) and have been burning it to purify my surroundings. The CHAK-click! is back!
I bought a new Sherman Alexie book yesterday. “The Toughest Indian in the World”, it’s called.
There are authors that you love so much that when you buy a new book of theirs or one that you haven’t read, it’s like an old friend returning from a long trip to Italy or Antarctica or from orbiting a moon in outer space. They’ve had all these adventures and they can’t wait to tell you about them, and you can’t wait to listen to their good ole’ familiar voice.
The city is warming up, and the violet hour has gone from chilly to breezy and cool. It’s now appropriate to sit outside with a iced tea and read.
Just having the time to read is a real luxury. Plus to be able to do it on a sidewalk in this city with interesting people to gawk at is pretty much heavenly. I’m never moving anywhere else.
UPDATE: I just discovered that one of my favorite Sherman Alexie short stories, “What You Pawn I Will Redeem”, is available in its entirety to read online!
Why are you still here?
Surpassing the Master
In the elevator of the temporary art building Yumi Kim told us a pretty interesting story about how as an apprentice Leonardo Da Vinci worked on a painting together with his master Verrocchio.
Verrocchio did most of the painting himself, but he had Leonardo do a minor bit of it — he had him paint one of the angels in the background. Of course, Leonardo’s angel turned out to be the best executed part of the painting, surpassing even Verrocchio’s own work.
It’s said that Verrocchio was so amazed and humiliated by his apprentice’s superior technique that he vowed never to touch a brush again. Others say that Verrocchio never really cared much for painting (he was more of a sculptor) and was merely glad to have someone working in his house that could expertly take care of such things for him.
In the image below I’ve illustrated which sections are believed to have been painted by Leonardo.
Note the clear difference between the folds in the cloth of Leonardo’s angel and the folds in John the Baptist’s white clothing on the right. It’s as if that’s the only part of the painting that contains realistic dimension; everything else seems flat.
Yar
I’m still learning to decide which is good news to share and which is good news to keep secret to myself (because it’s more fun that way).
When I was a kid I loved hearing good news because it disproved the existence of bad news. Good news takes up the physical space where bad news may possibly metastisize. Kind of like positive matter taking up room that would normally be stolen by antimatter.
I worried a lot when I was a kid, especially about nuclear war. Reagan kept steering the country into headlong confrontation with the USSR, paid for on credit; the night he bombed Libya I was sure a hammer-and-sickle-painted bomb would crash through my bedroom ceiling. (Funny how Gaddaffi is now Mr. Friendly.)
So good news is pretty good to hear, although I’m much less of a downer now that I’m an adult.
And I can stand to hear bad news without clapping my hands over my ears and yelling LA LA LA LA, unlike the current administration. But it’s good to accentuate the positive.
Funny thing about the word “metastisize” -
I was talking to our good friend Joel of the Fountain [ Jeanie's terminology for him. -- Ed.] a few weeks ago when I was in New York — specifically about how I get my ideas.
“So when an idea metasti-…” I stopped myself; backtracked, “Develops in my head -“
Joel laughed. “I like that you used that term.”
Thinking about it, these ideas do metastisize in my head. They appear, become functional, then little bits of them tear off and flow through my bloodstream, begin to grow upon the other parts of my mentals. At that point I have to do something about them.
Young Adult Fiction
Lately I’ve been reading books intended for teenage girls.
I believe in sometimes doing the opposite of what you normally do. That’s why I sometimes watch NASCAR or wear my underwear on my head. I’m a progressive dude.
Anyway, I read “Rx” by Tracy Lynn. That was Jill’s suggestion and it was pretty entertaining. Right now I’m reading “Sloppy Firsts” by Megan McCafferty. This is the book that was recently in the news for having been ripped off by Kaavya Viswanathan (“Opal Mehta”).
So if you’re going to rip off a book, make sure that it’s as entertaining and fun as “Sloppy Firsts”. This will guarantee success as long as you don’t get pinched.
McCafferty is a really good, energetic writer. I’m glad that young people have access to stuff that’s this much fun to read.
But if you don’t want to get caught, rip off a book that sucks and that no one has read.
Why?
Last night I ran my usual route twice in a row. At the point when I normally turn right to head home, I went left to go back around again. I ran ten miles.
I don’t know why I did that. Even when I had just turned left I was thinking, “Hey, shouldn’t we [I use the Royal We when talking to myself -- Ed.] head home?” But I guess we weren’t done running yet.
The second five miles was a lot easier than the first. And I didn’t feel much different afterwards.
We’ll see how I feel later today though.
I owe Stan a drink; I am declaring it here publicly so that I won’t forget.
The Princess is in Another Castle
A metaphor for life: After dodging flying hammers and pools of lava and jumping on a reptillian fellow, you bust into the castle to rescue the Princess… But then you find out that the Princess isn’t even in this castle.
You now have a choice: Give up or keep moving forward onto the next castle, into the next struggle.
But there is a third way. Forget about the Princess and just play. “Screw the Princess! I’m here to PLAY, little man! Even if she gets rescued I’m gonna still keep playing! Now get the F outta my way!”
Yes, that will do.
I really like watching movies that I last saw when I was a kid because now I can watch them with adult eyes and understand new things.
For instance: Spike Lee’s Malcolm X, in my eyes his masterpiece alongside Mo’ Better Blues as a hair-close second.
In the scene where Denzel’s Malcolm Little (before his conversion to Islam and his years in prison) is making out with that luscious blonde in the car — Spike cuts away to the car’s exterior details. Its creamy finish, its sweeping body, the angelic form of the Cadillac hood ornament rising.
This is the life Malcolm was tempted with, he says with his visuals — this rich, white, dreamlike life that Malcolm will later rebel against because of his love for his people. Spike cuts away from the blonde and to the car, shows us that this dream is only material, only an illusion.
I’ll probably watch this movie when I’m 40 and still get something new out of it.
My Work in Print
Year Zero
Available from Samuel French and Amazon.com
Cowboy Versus Samurai
Available from Samuel French and Amazon.comFor a complete list of books containing my work, please click here.
