Gelsey Diary

Manafu* [RO] invited me to express my view on corporate/ company blogs among a panel of professionals from large companies, PR agencies, and online agencies. If you read Romanian, these are the answers we all gave [RO]. If you don’t, here’s a quick translation of mines:

Corporate/ Company blogs Q & A
What risks may surface for a company blog? Not allocating enough resources (time/ team/ information) in order to update the blog often with relevant content. Becoming more transparent than you’re ready to support or, on the contrary, not being transparent enough–an example would be publishing posts of the press release/ marketing copy type. To enter dialogue with audiences you’re not prepared to address, like consumers and the competition. To fail following through the propagation of your covered topics on other blogs and/ or offline.What questions should a company ask itself before launching a blog? What makes the blog the appropriate tool? Who is the blog addressing? What benefits can the blog bring to its audiences? What benefits can the blog bring to the company? Who will invest time in writing and promoting the blog? How will you measure the success of your blog?Who should be the leading actor of the company blog? It depends on the company and the availability of its team; I don’t believe there is a recipe. To me, a company blog is more relevant when the company management writes, as well; it communicates involvement, leadership, vision, seriousness. A positive example is The Tom Peters Weblog.Manafu* launched the subject before by asking whether we do PR on blogs [RO], and you can check my reply [RO] in the comments of his post. I wrote about it on my blog back then.

Okay. I feel like I’ve detailed the reasoning behind premium pricing pretty convincingly in the past few days. But there’s still a small but persistent bee in my bonnet. So let’s continue.

On my way down to dinner yesterday evening someone cut me off–or I should say cut around me at a stop sign. As I was a bit tired, a bit hungry, a bit put out (we’ve been having our house worked on and can’t put any water down the drains), and a bit off my center, I got pissed.

I recognized I was pissed and so tried to just let it go, but I was mad. Close to get out in the street and fight, road rage mad.

But no big, I just swallowed it. Even though I then had to follow the person while they drove left and right–they seemed to be looking for parking or something.

Either way, they were annoying me.

Then someone came up on my right trying to squeeze between me and the parked cars.

Thinking they were trying to do the same thing, I gunned it and turned into them, forcing them into the parked cars. They performed remarkably well and made it through unscathed–they were in fact making a right hand turn and just looking for a bit of an angle–but it left me wondering what the hell was going on.

I looked at my usual suspects. Yes, there was a full moon, yes I was in Wrigleyville on a Friday evening before a Bears Superbowl (high possibility of drunk drivers), yes I had played some basketball yesterday at the gym when I shouldn’t have, yes I was still getting over a chest cold, yes I had been spending a lot of faith by doing what I wanted to first all week and my work second (a challenge even though it seemed to be paying off).

But whatever list of “reasons” I came up with didn’t quite cut it. Or matter. I didn’t want to be playing Road Warrior on my way to Bul Go Gi regardless.

Eating always helps but I didn’t figure it all the way out until last night at around 4am.

I don’t know if your body wakes you up for quiet time in the middle of the night, but mine does. Since I’ve started watching my dreams regularly I sometimes wake up after each cycle of dreams, as if to take note of them.

Laying there, still trying to relax, it hit me: I’m pissed. (I had actually just had a dream where I literally pissed on a guy. He was being a jerk–but I had still let him get to me.)

And when I asked why I was pissed, my answer was that I’m hurt.

I learned a lot of what I know from new age sources, and I still try to hedge my bets very slightly liberal, but I still pretty categorically deny that anyone can be a victim, a status to which both movements traditionally confer special status.

This viewpoint does raise some issues, however. Was Emmett Till not a victim? What about a child accidentally bombed in Iraq? Native Americans lied to, given disease infested blankets and relocated? I’m all for open and vigorous negotiations but what about when people are manipulated, coerced, or even worse–killed or tortured?

Part of my answer came from the Emmett Till documentary I watched the other day. His mother told the camera that god came to her and told her that Emmett had been selected–or had chosen (is there any difference in that world?) to do what he did. To be that person.

[If you don’t know, Emmett Till was the black Chicago boy who was tortured and killed in Money, Mississippi for whistling at a white woman. His accused killers were acquitted and later admitted their guilt to a magazine for $4000. The 1955 case sparked outrage and was a major catalyst for the civil rights movement. Race, sex and murder in Money, Mississippi–it doesn’t get any clearer than that.]

But while Emmett had not been a spiritual victim he certainly had been a material one. Just because there are bigger things than this life doesn’t mean that this life isn’t sacred. It is.

Lying in bed thinking about all of this, I realized two things. First, my male side, my right side, when it feels it has been wronged, wants to fight. As I used to be so depressed that it never got above being a b-iotch and wanting to run, I consider this progress, but surely there is a state beyond this. My right side is tight and has had trouble relaxing.

My female side, my left side, when it feels it has been wronged, wants to go away. Zone out. Disappear. Give up. Conform. This is a bit of progress as well as it used to be non-existent, energetically speaking, but certainly there must be something beyond this as well.

And lying there, I wondered, if I was such not a victim, if nothing could actually touch the real part of me without my consent–and the outside world just a reflection of my inner state–then why was I so angry? And why did I feel it necessary to cover up the hurt I felt with anger?

And why did I feel hurt in the first place.

And then, in what felt like a static charge to exactly the right place in my brain, I thunk it: I feel hurt because no one will buy my book.

And I feel hurt because no one will buy it not because they don’t want to read it, or because it’s not good, but because of their own issues around money–and what they’re used to books (that they don’t much enjoy) costing.

Because it’s too weird–the whole thing. I don’t know why people don’t buy my book, just that they don’t. Maybe they’re intimidated–and it’s my own fault–but all I know is I wrote what was asked of me. I wrote what I wanted more than anything to see written. I wrote what had to be said–at great personal risk.

And I made a bet with god: either it works or it doesn’t. Either the truth works–on this planet and on this plane–or bullshit works. One of them has to rule–be primary. I was done with the latter and so clung to the former like it was my only teddy bear in a concentration camp. Not because I believed in it–as I’ve mentioned I didn’t have any faith–but because I had nothing else. Had gone all the way the other way.

Had tried and lived sarcasm riffing on sarcasm. Postmoderning post-modernisme. Doing what I hated. Living cool and detached. Knowing everything already.

And I never thought it would work until long after I was done. I never sat down to write a $120 book. I sat down thinking I could maybe sketch an outline of a decent $14 book. And I will put that on everything that I love. I didn’t even think I could finish it.

But I had nothing else to do. And so plunged ahead a million times. With scanty resources. Without any resources but with available credit. With belief and understanding. Without belief and completely blind.

Happy as a clam and in mortal terror for both myself and my mental stability.

And I’m still not a victim. I did it all freely. Every step. And I’d do every single one of them again. Likely the same way. And I’ll be doing the exact same thing when I’m 65 if nothing ever happens.

But I still felt hurt. It hurt when my family didn’t believe me, it hurt when my friends didn’t believe me. It hurt when I didn’t believe me. (And I was grateful when I did find support and supporters.)

And let me say this so I can let it go the way of the dodo: the economy is the primary way we support each other. Our purchases. And when we deny ourselves what we want, we also deny someone else the pleasure of making it.

That’s the whole thing.

I could go into how one lost purchase means so much more to a mom and pop/craftsman type operation than it does to an overseas factory. How profit is really the only place we find love and leisure–and how we’re going to have to get into being leaders with our purchases to get a comprehensive, sustainable, enviro, loving economy and city. But whatever. I’ll just tell you that it hurts.

It wouldn’t hurt if I hadn’t done a good job. I don’t care for a second that my basement if full of 70% half cooked paintings. Or that my efforts at singing and guitar so far haven’t yielded what I want. (Though I’m confident they will).

I don’t care that no one bought my chapbook of borderline juvenalila poetry (though some of them have their moments). Or even that people don’t gobble up my non-fiction blog–I freely give that away, and although I think it’s somewhat valuable, I realize it’s as much a marketing tool as anything. If you’ve read here much, you’ll know that I feel that most opining and theories about living are worth about what they get: $14.95 a book.

Which may be why we have thousands of people competing ruthlessly to be the next Dr. Phil, Deepak Chopra or Krishnamurti (Ken Wilber?)–and NONE competing to make any decent art. So what the hell are we supposed to do once we’ve imbibed all these wonderful methods?

Once we’re more enlightened than Oprah? –Sorry, I’m getting pissy again. What I’d like to suggest is that we are improving and we need a new price point for books, CDs, DVDs, movies and magazines. Probably many.

And that you should consider paying the $120 you’d drop for one of these workshops in a heartbeat on the real thing. What you can expect to see once these workshops actually work.

That still sounds a bit pissy but what can I do? Should I tell you that it’s not frustrating to make the best thing possible and have no one be interested in it? After already having been a respected member of the economy making highly valuable things and having chucked all that? Should I lie? Would that be more enlightened?

What I am doing, and figured out last night, is giving it all up to god. And he can have it. I wrote the sucker on his instructions, I priced it and did the cover art on his suggestion–it was what I wanted as well–but trying to stuff it down people’s throats is not me. Lord knows I’ve tried.

I’ve also tried the nice way–suggesting, inspiring. I thought I would just magnetize like-minded people. You’ll notice the first ton of this blog doesn’t even mention my book.

I’ve tried advertising, I’ve tried readings. I’ve tried press releases and email lists.

I’ve tried moving on–forgetting about the damn book. I’ve considered pricing it at $16. I tried pricing it at $40.

I sent query letters, I queried agents. I sent chapters, I sent books, I sent two pages. I bought the Writer’s Market book, I put it out myself, I set up a business for it.

I raised venture capital, I lost venture capital, I asked for venture capital. I read it for my family, I read it for friends, I read it for strangers.

I made cold calls, I met with people in the industry. I gave copies to writers, I gave copies to press, I sent out copies to be reviewed.

I followed up.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

And I insist that I’m not a victim, but it’s been 10 years. And I don’t even believe in fighting anymore. What am I doing? Fighting to let you love me? Fighting to be granted membership by a fraternity that doesn’t believe?

And maybe now I’m getting somewhere. As the layers peel away (this is exactly what happens in the book, btw).

What hurt the most was that she didn’t believe. Was that she thought I was worthless. Was that she was five minutes away from telling me to get a damn job (when she left me). Was that she didn’t think I’d ever have a waterfront house because I wasn’t a sell-out punk investment banker networking frat boy who didn’t give a fuck about her.

(No offense and may god bless them, btw–it just wasn’t for me.)

Even though she could feel that I already was. That I was real. And I know she could feel. And she was supposed to be the feeling one. And I the rational one.

So if anyone asks, that’s how I really know how much it hurts to be disbelieved. That’s why I’m so adamantly clear about the cost of doubt and $14.99 CDs that artists have to tour incessantly behind in our society.

And, conversely, why I’m so crystal clear on the value of belief. How rare and precious it is in our advanced critical-method-doggedly-applied late capitalism.

How much it costs to produce, maintain and distribute in the face of all else that is out there. And will go on record talking with anyone who says that love doesn’t cost a thing in the West.

My family, relatives, friends–in a sense they’re supposed to disbelieve, keep me on track. Make sure I have dental insurance. (Which I don’t).

But my woman–she was supposed to be the one who could feel the difference. Who knew implicitly what I was talking about–and that I’d deliver huge. Who got it without even having to hear the boring explanation or read the shit.

Would just sit there and even watch tv and say: warm! Even though cool was in vogue. What everyone else was doing that millenium.

And I know that this was all a set-up. That I wanted to be a man first–and unflappable. To believe even beyond her belief or capacity to believe. But it still hurt.

And if I would have let her doubt–possibly fleeting–stop me, then what kind of a love artist was I? Not much.

And what kind of confidence did I have if when she doubted, I agreed?

Not much.

I never thought it would take 10 years. But here I am. And I don’t even know all the details–you can search the blog for whatever you feel important. The rest you can find, 3-D, in the book.

But I can’t go on feeling hurt. Or waiting. Waiting for it to sell or waiting for “her” to believe. And I won’t go on feeling angry or detached.

So god, I lay this all at your feet. If I did it just to get here and start over, then thank you for the opportunity. It seems to have worked. If you ask me what I want, it’s still the exact same as when I wrote it: for The Love Artist to go worldwide and inspire a mature, warm, vulnerable, sustainable, and real spiritual culture effortlessly.

Have kids in Calcutta certain about what they want to do when they grow up. How they want to feel.

And be the person who wrote it. Who figured it out. And to eventually be bested by the next generation–who took it in stride like the kickflip, like DaVinci, like the transistor, like Tesla or Bowie. And have my flaws, shortcomings and blinds of my time revealed and thrown out–like Newton.

And get to be an old man pleased by what was being done. And comfortable with his place.

And be done.

Like Henry Miller said: if I’m a tree, then any work is dropped fruit. And why would a tree care about dropped fruit.

Some gets eaten, some gets planted and some falls on inhospitable soil. But you can’t aim it. And why try? You can’t aim the rain, or know where they’re going to clear for that next subdivision.

The trees work is done. Drop your leaves and just sit for a few months. The soil, the sun and time are in charge now. The universe works on it’s own schedule. And some seeds get lost like the gnostic gospels. Others start sprouting before they even get tapped into the ground. It’s not up to me which tree grows for 200 years and which gets trampled underfoot as a sprout.

I’m getting a bit wistful, but my point is the same. I still want and fully expect it to go big. Premium pricing of mass market goods is inevitable. It is already commonplace in every sector EXCEPT culture. Where we feel perhaps the most impoverished.

I feel that this relationship is causal–co-dependent if you will–which is why I wrote and put out a $120 book which I feel transcends and heals the rift.

And I’ve already changed the way I consume–the way I shop. I wear $500 jeans and $800 cashmere sweaters even though I have to hunt and peck for them at bargain basements. I am proud to support the best this world has to offer, and I try to do it environmentally, lovingly and faithfully. (My $300 cashmere sweater–from Barneys–still in it’s first year, is already pilling. And decimating various Chinese plains/planes).

I buy organic and wish the hippies made better clothes. And wish the designers made more loving ones. And am ready at the drop of a hat to put an almost entire culture into production–books, music, clothes, magazines. –A life instead of a lifestyle. As soon as the next round of funding is there.

And this will bring hundreds of people with me directly–and clear the path for thousands and millions more to enjoy a new energy level economy. Create a new shell on which higher energy (and more relaxed) electrons can thrive, can live, can love.

And there is no dogma or things to learn, just follow your instincts. Do what you want.

I also make the absolute best that I can. And I work a second job so I can. And I refuse to be a victim to time or money (or energy or love) when it comes to creating what I deem the most valuable product I can make. I train and eat a special diet for it. Stay in nights. Refrain from anything stronger than high glucose rice chips.

And I’ll be at it for the rest of my life. And it’s fun and fulfilling. And I expect that it will provide me with love, time, energy and money starting today. And understand that it has been doing just that to a certain extent for years. (And that when it hasn’t that has been for a purpose).

And would I like to make more? Have the whole day? My own place? An office? A lawyer and manager? Would I like to make films and clothing lines? Talk to Newsweek and start my own magazine?

Absolutely. And I’m going to focus primarily on production–and not sales–to do that. Because that’s what I want and believe that eventually that wins. I assume it will happen with the book but I’m not beholden to it. I intended for that to be the economic driver from the start but I put that detail in god’s hands. I can’t afford to be pissy anymore. It’s showing up in my music, clouding my Friday evenings.

I want to take over the world, and I think I would be an excellent choice. I want to go to Davos and show the tight and cool how warm warm can be–and how profitable, but I’m at the point where standing outside telling whoever goes by is hurting my chances.

I don’t know of another way in but I’ll just start walking the other way.

It’s worked every other time I’ve found the wherewithal to do it.

Or maybe that’s even old school thinking that I’d want to go there. Maybe that’s still my star-struck ego. I’d rather have the Sorroses and Gates stop by here if they’re interested. After they’ve read the book and blog. Or even just call. I don’t really like networking anyway.

And it does sound a lot more relaxing. And more magnetic–bring them here. Less work. Move the world with a more lovingly placed lever. (Or just show how much more easy–and profitable–it is to let the world move on it’s own.)

And it’s really hard to become powerful kissing people’s ass. Believe me, I tried.

I also tried berating them and telling them what was up. I think I’ll just head back toward the old classic–doing my own thing.

Love.

Many people in the NHL and many of the league’s fans were excited about word earlier this week (see item below) that ESPN might get back into the pro hockey business in time for the 2008-09 season, presumably in some sort of shared cable rights deal with current rights holder Versus.

Something like that could happen, and would help not only the league but Versus itself, kind of like TNT’s Charles Barkley appears on ESPN and helps promote the NBA across networks.

There is a long, long way to go on that, though. Talks so far have been sketchy and preliminary, according to people who should and do know such things.

I tried to pry some information on this out of ESPN’s content king, John Skipper, this week, but he declined to say much on the subject. He did, though, confirm he likes and believes in hockey as a sport and a TV property. That definitely can’t hurt.

But back to 2007-08: NBC will employ flex scheduling and a national game each week rather than regionalized coverage. This seems counter to the usual take on the NHL, which is that it has the most regionalized interest of any major pro sport, i.e. most Rangers fans don’t want to watch the Canucks play the Sharks.

Ken Schanzer, NBC Sports president and a Colgate guy who like many at the network is a big hockey fan, explained it this way to me a while back:

“Our thought is it’s a sport that has a new generation of real stars, the poster child of which is Sidney Crosby. And the thing that drives sports viewing to a large extent is the presence of stars and dynasties. This was an opportunity for us to feature stars and dynasties and try to bring that to a broad national audience . . This gave us the best chance to maximize the audience for the games.”

I’ve not even finished listening to the marvellous Manicured Noise retrospective that I reviewed a little while ago and what should drop through my door but a retrospective of fellow early 80’s Mancunians, The Diagram Brothers.
I have to admit I know very little about them other than the fact that Andy Diagram is now one of David Thomas’ Two Pale Boys.
I also know their records were released by Richard Boon’s legendary New Hormones label.

Get past some of the humorous titles - “Ron! The Morris Minor’s Gone”, “I Didn’t Get Where I Am Today By Being A Right Git” - and what you have is a really exciting new wave art rock band that owe as much to the No Wave of the Contortions as they do to the UK punk scene and the art rock of Pere Ubu.

The guitars are all stainless steel clean, tones you could cut your finger on.
There’s some beautiful percussion, hints of both Devo and The Slits in the time changing and call and response chants, and bass playing that could be a forerunner to the avant noodling of Stump’s Kev Hopper.

The only downside is the ocassional low of some of the lyric writing. It can sometimes be a little too cleverly naive.
But then what would you expect from a group of young men making music where and when they did?

“Postal Bargains” is my current favourite - It’s all fighting guitars, driving rhythm and get-in-your-head annoying singing.

Don’t worry if you, like me, don’t know a great deal about The Diagram Brothers.
Regardless of whether or not you’re interested in experimental english pop of the late 70’s and early 80’s, if you like your pop music guitar driven, interesting, thought provoking, hummable and catchy then you’ll dig this to pieces.

Well, yesterday evening Rosa left for Seattle to visit another friend, so the house is a bit more empty now… What a great visit, though! Most of the good pictures are up top there in my Flickr filmstrip, but I’ll recap it here (this could be long, but it’ll be in two parts!):

Back on July 3rd, Rosa’s plane was due to arrive in Portland at about 11AM. As it’s a two hour drive to Portland from here, I planned to get an early start and park myself somewhere in the terminal, biding my time by using my laptop with the airport’s free wifi. I got the message right before I left that her flight was two hours delayed, so I ended up waiting a bit before actually leaving. Really boring two hour drive to the airport. Then, after my wait, it was 1PM and I started checking out the people as they arrived from past the security gates. Sure enough, there she was! She’s always told me that she is short, and I’ve known some short people before (onces who come up to my chin) and so I expected something similar. However, I don’t think she is short at all but I let her know and then it kind of became a running joke during the visit, hehe.

I had thoughtfully purchased some sammiches and chips in a cooler I brought along, so lunch was had while we were driving back here to Eugene. We had a really nice time chatting and such, and right before home she noticed the Coburg hills, mistaking them for mountains. I guess in Michigan it’s really flat! I would find that so bizarre; around here there are always some type of hill or mountain on the horizon and it never just ends in a straight line.

We made it back home, and then went out for a little sightseeing around the town, and some shopping for breakfast stuff and dinners. Then Rosa met Frogg, and that night we watched a movie and ate hot dogs

The next day, the 4th, we went shopping for ingredients to make a pasta salad to take to my dad’s for the holiday, and I ended up making cookies also! Then it was off to my Dad’s, where we met my sister, my father, and Nancy and her husband Kenneth. We had a good dinner and lots of nice conversation, then got to see little bits of fireworks from all over town… There was always something going off somewhere out there in town, it seemed.

The 5th, we drove out to Nancy’s to see her garden, then were back in time to let Frogg take the car over to pick up Megg from the airport. Megg was flying in from London, and was only a little delayed. She was pretty tired after the trip, and didn’t get to meet Rosa (who was taking a nap right when Megg got there) until the next morning!

On the 6th, we drove up to the Silver Falls park to walk around and see the falls. Rosa and Megg were extremely impressed, especially since you get to walk behind the waterfalls on a trail. Very stunning place. I got lots of good pictures and a little video as well!

More to come next post!

What’s going on in America these days? First, we have the outrage of the Jena 6 case, which Rev. Sharpton has rightly said should be the subject of a federal, criminal investigation against the racist (my word, not Sharpton’s) prosecutor… and now, here comes Maryland, where some idiot (or some idiots…) hung a noose from a tree near the Black student center at the University of Maryland.

I’ve been on that campus. It’s a beautiful campus. But apparently, it, like so much of America, is infused with ugly elements.

Attention White People! This is a noose, this is what it means:

But frighteningly enough, some of you already know that.

And then there’s this: a case that makes Dunbar Village look like a walk in the park:

A black West Virginia woman was sexually assaulted, stabbed, and tortured while being held captive by her white abductors, one of whom told her, “That’s what we do to niggers around here.” The 23-year-old victim was freed Saturday after cops responded to the home of Frankie Brewster for a “welfare check on a female that was reportedly being held against her will.” When cops arrived, Brewster claimed she was the only one home, but then the victim limped to the door and said, “Help me.” According to six harrowing criminal complaints, the woman, who apparently had been held for more than a week, had four stab wounds in her left leg, bruised eyes, and had been repeatedly sexually assaulted and humiliated. The woman told police that she was forced to lick Brewster’s “toes, vagina, and anal cavity.” Brewster’s son Bobby forced the woman to eat dog and rat feces, according to one complaint filed in Logan County Magistrate Court. The victim, who is now hospitalized, was raped at knifepoint, choked with a cable cord, and had her hair pulled and cut during the ordeal.

Authorities are still looking for two people who drove the victim to the perps’ home. This case is as sickening as it gets. If I believed in the death penalty, I’d want these devils to get the chair. Just look at them … all Anglo Americans should get together and excommunicate them.

As John Aravosis points, out, a lot of White people are laboring under the delusion that racism is a relic of the past. It isn’t. And it’s up to White people to confront their own demons, and the demons among them.

By the way, a lot of people have been clamoring for Louisiana Governor Kathleen Babineau Blanco to intervene in the case. Well here’s what she’s had to say on the case:“I have received hundreds of calls, letters and emails from citizens concerned about the situation involving the case of the high school students in Jena, La. As Governor, as a citizen of the State of Louisiana, and as a mother, without rushing to judgment, I condemn racism in any form, and I fully expect that those involved in this case, including all parties, will act with fairness and in complete good faith. [Really??? Is that what you “fully expect,” Kathleen…?]

“I must clear up a widespread misunderstanding of my authority in this case. Our State Constitution provides for three Branches of State Government - Legislative, Executive, and Judicial - and the Constitution prohibits anyone in one branch from exercising the powers of anyone in another branch. This issue is currently a matter in the Judicial System, and should those involved in this case suffer any defects, it is their right to address them in that system through the appeals court.

“Again, the oversight regarding how this case was handled, from arrest to prosecution, lies within the Justice System. Therefore, I have consulted Attorney General Charles Foti and Donald Washington, the U.S. Attorney for the Western District of Louisiana, regarding these events in Jena. As a result, General Foti has been and is in consultation with U.S. Attorney Washington and other members of the Justice System. Regardless of the outcome of this case, the Jena community has much healing ahead of it, and I urge all those citizens to come together for the common good of their community and their state. Our children deserve nothing less.”

Well that’s nice, Kathleen. In other words, you don’t intend to do a damned thing about it, except for the hoping for healing thing.

To be fair, Blanco does not have the unilateral power to pardon anyone. She can, by law, only consider pardons brought to her by the Louisiana clemency board. That means its time to put pressure on that board, to take up the cases on Mychal Bell and the other four young men who are facing trial (Bell is facing sentencing next Thursday) as adults (the sixth member of the Jena Six was charged as a juvenile.)

Update on the powers of the Louisiana governor:
Pardon, Commutation, Reprieve, and Remission; Board of Pardons. (1) The governor may grant reprieves to persons convicted of offenses against the state and, upon favorable recommendation of the Board of Pardons, may commute sentences, pardon those convicted of offenses against the state, and remit fines and forfeitures imposed for such offenses. However, a first offender convicted of a non-violent crime, or convicted of aggravated battery, second degree battery, aggravated assault, mingling harmful substances, aggravated criminal damage to property, purse snatching, extortion, or illegal use of weapons or dangerous instrumentalities never previously convicted of a felony shall be pardoned automatically upon completion of his sentence, without a recommendation of the Board of Pardons and without action by the governor.

Meanwhile, in the land of candy & flowers:

As world attention focuses on the daily slaughter in Iraq, a devastating disaster is impending in the north of the country, where the wall of a dam holding back the Tigris river north of Mosul city is in danger of imminent collapse.

“It could go at any minute,” says a senior aid worker who has knowledge of the struggle by US and Iraqi engineers to save the dam. “The potential for disaster is very great.”

If the dam does fail, a wall of water will sweep into Mosul, Iraq’s third largest city with a population of 1.7 million, 20 miles to the south. Experts say the flood waters could destroy 70 per cent of Mosul and inflict heavy damage 190 miles downstream along the Tigris.

Couldn’t we just have dropped $25 Billion worth of Prozac on Iraq and be done with it?

Grab bite, take in show for one-stop entertainment
Patter Productions was founded to return dinner theater to the Knoxville area. The group’s first production is the musical comedy “Nunsense,” opening Friday at Faith Lutheran Church in Farragut. It will be presented Friday and Saturday, June 22-23 and 29-30.

Dinner will be served at 6:30 p.m. Fridays, prior to curtain time at 8. The 1 p.m. Saturday matinee will be presented without a meal.

James Fisher and friend Tracy Walker, both theater performers, partnered up to create Patter Productions.

The team at Patter Productions also includes Fisher’s partner, professional theatrical designer De Wayne Kirchner; Walker’s husband, bandleader Bill Walker; and actress/singer Julie Stelter.

Theater companies tend to do the warhorse musicals and plays that are familiar to older people, Fisher says. Patter Productions wants to attract younger audiences, while also pleasing the mature theatergoer.

Fisher and Walker say the dinner theater will offer “a good show and good food and very affordable prices.”Bill and Tracy Walker are the founders of The Atomic Horns and have become good friends. I’ve also worked with Julia, James and De Wayne on several Oak Ridge Playhouse shows as well.

Come support a new up and coming theatre company in Knoxville!

The Lolligags are an electro pop group from Athens, Georgia. Wired is their début EP and contains four tracks of what on the surface seems to pleasant, almost dancey, casio inspired electro pop.

However scratch below that surface and you will find a sinister, sometimes funnily so, dark side to the band courtesy of their lyrics. The subject matter contains references to mental anguish, stalking and being terrorised. That’s just for starters and did I mention the sexual desperation of a girl in a lavender dress? It’s enough to make your hair stand on end.

Maybe I am as sinister (sick?) as the Lolligags because I still have a smile on my face from listening their music. Forget your bubbly electro pop and take a trip full of mystery and suspense via this pretty fine EP.

The Wired EP is out now on Happy Birthday To Me Records. You can buy it direct from the band.

The track Wired Up can be downloaded from here.

[My Space link]

There was this yahoo group set up for incoming 1Ls at Stanford Law, and I was inspired to write a sort of ‘mock intro’ for myself, which went as follows:

“

On the lighter side…

Hello friends. My name is —— and I’m from ———. I’m often charged with “trying to be funny,” and this post will be no exception.

Some irreverent answers to questions I posed to myself:

1. What most excites you about living on the West Coast for the first time?

Well, from a very young age I was interested in gaining a deeper understanding of why it was that the Beach Boys’ lead singer Mike Love wished, and I quote, “they all could be California girls.”
When I first heard those lyrics as a brown-eyed, bushy-haired 6 yr-old, the first question that came to my mind was: “To whom exactly is the phrase ‘they all’ referring?” On face it seemed like M-Lo was speaking of all girls, thus wishing that all young females would be of the California sort. However, given everything I knew about Mickey L, my gut told me that he had something very different in mind, a much bolder yet somehow still understandable desire: that they ALL, that is to say, everyone in the entire world except Mike Love himself, be a Cali-girl. Why? Because that would make him and him alone the sole XY on the entire planet, perforce obliging him to repopulate the Earth by frolicking and gallivanting with hoards of CA XXs.
Needless to say, under this interpretation of the BeBoy’s immortal words, a thorough exploration of CA and all it has to offer seems like it’ll be a blast.

2. How did you first become interested in law?

It all started after seeing this movie called The Devil’s Advocate. As you may recall, in the opening scene Kevin Lomax - played by the endlessly talented Keanu Reeves - traumatizes this teenage witness on the stand by haranguing her about a disparaging picture she drew of her high-school teacher (Reeves’ client who is clearly guilty of molesting her), effectively destroying her credibility in the eyes of the jury. The really inspiring part, for me at least, was that even after viewing his client “self-gratifying” while hearing the teen recount the deeds of which he is accused, Reeves stays strong and sticks to his guns about what he knows is morally abhorrent although legally permissible, refusing to let his conscience get in the way of presenting his client’s case to the best of his ability.
Man, if some day I could be so dedicated to my work that my personal beliefs were irrelevant, then…well, wow. Mom and dad would be so proud.

3. Do you feel that come August you’ll be prepared for your first year?

To be honest, I was a bit nervous about being in a group of such smart and talented people at SLS, especially since it’s not quite clear why I was included. So to calm my nerves and to make sure I was as prepared as I could be, I did the following:

a. Attended “Law Preview” sessions from June 26-July 1 in Atlanta, July 17-22 in Boston, July 31-Aug 5 in Chicago, and August 7-12 in Philadelphia. (learned something new each time)
b. Wrote ingratiating e-mails introducing myself to all Stanford Law Faculty, the editors of the Law Review, and each of the 9 justices of the US Supreme Court (for whom I’d like to clerk next summer)
c. Was an actual first-year law student at University of Pittsburgh School of Law last year, to see what it’s “really” like, so that this time around there won’t be any surprises.

And you know what? Surprisingly, I feel pretty ready.

In closing, I’m living in —– next year, I look forward to meeting you all, and I hope you found at least some of this amusing.
“

Again, a forum in which most people talked about themselves in a candid fashion. I just, I dunno, wanted to try and write something humorous. Maybe it’s just because that’s something I don’t get to do often enough.