took a whole lot of tr-y-in', just to get up-a that hill

WASHINGTON - The US House defeated a bill Wednesday to postpone the upcoming transition from analog to digital television broadcasting by four months to June 12th.

Good. 

The argument that folks should be given more time to prepare for the switch is a bunch of bull-butter. News of the analog-to-digital switch has been before us for over a year and a half. People won't be more prepared four months from now or four years from now. If you don't have cable and you're concerned about having to spend the $40 - $60 for the converter box, then just take the next few months to save up for it. You won't miss anything in the meantime. Otherwise, buy a newspaper once a week and you'll be all caught up on the week's events. Flip the switch! Forward I say! Forward! THE FUTURE IS NIGH!

 

Sharon and I have seen five of the movies up for awards in a few weeks. Gravity reigns, though inspiration and hope always land on top. 

Richard Jenkins in The Visitor, lead actor. Beautiful movie, though quiet and melancholy. Jenkins is a master character actor. You've seen him many times. If you have a problem with immigrants, legal or illegal, or with the ridiculous immigration policies of our country, this movie is tender and frustrating and worthy of your time.

In a year of heavy, tense movies, Doubt applies the gravity in buckets. Meryl Streep in Doubt, lead actress, Amy Adams in Doubt, supporting actress, Phillip Seymour Hoffman in Doubt, supporting actor, Viola Davis in Doubt, supporting actress. All excellent performances, no doubt. 

Michael Shannon, supporting actor, in Revolutionary Road, another serious and tragic story, set in the mid-50's, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. Michael Shannon plays a small part as a WWII vet suffering from mental illness. He delivers some of the most honest and devastating lines of the movie. Sharon and I just caught this one last Saturday. If you enjoy the traditional life, you might not like it, but interestingly, the tragedy of the characters was somehow reassuring to us as we examined and compared our own life choices.

Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight, supporting actor. Creepiest performance of the last several years. Impossible to forget.

WALL-E for best animated feature. Great film.

Slumdog Millionaire, both up for best picture and best director, Danny Boyle. This has been our favorite film so far in the last several months. Please see this one. I can count at least forty-seven emotions that we are capable of feeling as humans. You'll feel fifteen-twenty of them as you watch this film, but you'll sigh a happy sigh as the credits roll. Hooray for Bollywood! 

...and speaking of happy sighs, Congratulations Mr. President.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

fish don't fry in the kitchen, beans don't burn on the grill

Right off the bat,

I'd like to dedicate some art to my friend, problem child.

Last week our good friend Cindy left us. Not in the eternal way, however, it could be argued that she is now in heaven. Cindy has moved to Hawaii by way of a job transfer. We will greatly miss Cindy as we have greatly missed Cindy's man, our friend, Tom, who was also transfered away from us over a year ago to Alaska. A place with proportionate beauty to Hawaii's heavenly warmth, but decidedly cold as hell.

On Saturday, we missed our friend Tom as we went out to dinner one last time with Cindy and her friend Diane who was visiting from the east coast. The restaurant we ate at was Il Posto. It was Tom + Cindy who first introduced us to Il Posto, and it has risen to be in the top of the Pendleton's Best Restaurants list. The menu is Italian, as is the chef, Andrea Frizzi, he is from Milan, specifically. 

Sharon and I were both raised, Christian. As we've grown older, we've chosen voluntarily to remain believers and our faith continues to be our great inspiration and purpose for our time.

However, we are no less devout in the religion of fine food and wine, and for Sharon and I, experiencing a masterfully conceived meal together is undoubtably one of our most sacred past times. If we can find people who share our affinity for slow food, all the better. For Sharon and I, food is not a thing to be taken lightly, and meal time is not a time to be dreaded for lack of ideas on how to cook ground beef. If the idea of spending three or four hours over a meal perplexes you, Sharon and I would be honored to take you to school.

The menu at Il Posto is Italian. The property itself is located at 2011 East 17th Avenue, Denver, CO 80206, in between a Thai restaurant and The Thin Man bar. This was our third visit. Il Posto opens for dinner at 5:30 and tables can be had for walk-ins until about 6:30, beyond that time you'll be waiting. So I recommend reservations. Off the sidewalk is the patio which is closed during cold weather. During nice weather, the front walls of the bistro which are two garage doors, are raised to create open and airy dinning. This night, the front door was covered on the inside with a black curtain in an attempt to dampen the cold chill of air that puffed into the dinning area each time it was opened. When we entered, the hostess took our names and saw that we'd made reservation and seated us immediately. Our table was the first table inside, so the cold puffs were felt until the place soon filled up with warm hungry bodies. The decor is spare and modern but still cozy, intimate, and sexy. I'd guess there are about 40 seats total, all in one room. The ceilings are high and the kitchen is open for all to see. A few seats can be had at the bar which give you front row views of the chefs at work.

After the hostess took our coats and we were seated, we were each brought a small glass of Lambrusco wine. This is tradition at Il Posto and it's a perfect aperitif to begin the meal. If you've never had Lambrusco, it's a light, slightly effervescent red wine, served lightly chilled. The alcohol content is around 7 percent, not much, so it's easy to drink and it wakes up your taste buds.

The crowd that you'll see at this neighborhood magnet is the usual Denver dinning crowd. twenty-five to sixty years old, casually but smartly dressed (no ties), and slightly bohemian. The servers and managers are food lovers themselves and their dress and manner is also casual and reflective of individual preference. We were being served by Dario, himself a native of Milan, and the second time Sharon and I had been under his excellent care. In addition, Bob, the general manager and wine guy, was a friend of mine. We had worked together for a short time at another restaurant. Bob was at our table frequently with a generous hand on the wine bottle and a curious eye for our friend Cindy. 

The use of individual menus is forgone here. Instead, two large chalk boards, hang high on either side of the room are hand written with each night's offerings. The menu changes daily, so if you make return visits, you will not have the same meal twice. The menu is broken down in traditional Italian style. Tagliere (in this case, cured meats + true cheeses served at room temperature), Assaggini (which means, a small taste, usually a tiny portion of food, or a small piece of something), Primi (first course, usually pasta or gnocchi), Risottos, and last, Secondi (second course, usually the entree).

We started the meal with the Tagliere: Parma prosciutto, riserva mortadella, cacciatorino, teleggio, dolce gorgonzola, black-truffled raschera. The first three are cured meats, the second three are cheeses.

Sharon and I usually share our primi, which the kitchen happily splits between two bowls, without a stupid split plate charge. We shared Sea Urchin Tagliatelle with mizuna, San Marzano sugo and baby parsley. Neither of us had ever had sea urchin.

Sea urchin meat is very delicate, and has the consistency of soft scrambled eggs. It is served in sushi houses raw, but here it was simply stirred into the tomato sauce with the arugula and then folded into the house made tagliatelle. When cooked, sea urchin simply melts apart and infuses the sauce with the taste of the ocean. It was simple and delicious.

Cindy and Diane split a serving of Stracci, ossobuco ragu, sunflower sprouts, Sardinian pecorino. Stracci means "rags". The pasta is simply, sheets of pasta cut into rough, un-uniform ribbons, "rags". The ossobuco ragu was combined with the pasta and garnished with the sprouts. Real Italian comfort food. It looked and smelled addictive.

For her entree, Diane ordered the seared coco-dusted scallops, brussel-sprouts, with citrus glaze. The scallops were huge and there were three on her plate with an equal amount of brussels sprouts. The sauce was some sort of butter citrus glaze. Fantastic. 

Sharon and Cindy copied each other and ordered the same main course. Cortese wine braised pork belly, served with roasted parsnips sauteed with Stracchino cheese and sunflower sprouts. 

My entree was roasted Black Sea bass with olive oil fennel broth, caramelized fennel and arugula. Some people don't eat fish, some people don't eat vegetables. Both varieties of folk suffer from the stupids. If you don't enjoy eating fish, you're cracked. In the hands of a chef who knows how to treat fresh fish, matching it's texture and flavor with complementing ingredients, fresh veggies, silken sauces, mm, mmm, mmm. Simple, elegant, precise. My eyes were closed most of time as I ate that entree.

We did have conversation over dinner, mostly about our food. Mostly we just made noises of pleasure. Each course was perfectly served, perfectly timed. The kitchen didn't begin preparing the next course until the present course's dishes were being removed from the table. The portions allowed for indulgence, but not excess. 

Throughout the meal we drank two bottles of Valpocelli. This particular red is the standard wine we drink when we're at Il Posto.    

Despite ethereal choices, we passed on dessert, but accepted manager Bob's offer to buy a round of after-dinner drinks for the table. It was merlot-cab grappa for me, and a sweet red muscato for the ladies. Bob joined us with a grappa as well and we all clicked glasses at the center of the table.

Sharon and I play a game when we eat out. We watch to see how many people come and go from the tables around us while our own plates stack up, and we compete with each other to see which of us can order the best dish. By the time we'd paid the bill this night, and the hostess brought us our coats, we'd spent three and a half hours over an inspiring, nurturing (both body and soul), slow meal cooked by people who care about the details. As we left the restaurant, I remembered my one complaint about visiting Il Posto, at some point the visit ends.

Have a good weekend, eat real food, John Glenn,

Dave

glass rickshaw on a bumpy road (revised)

Happy New Year everyone. The holidays were great for Sharon and I as we spent a week in Oklahoma City with family. Great cheer prevailed.

The Friday after Christmas, we spent and excellent evening with old friends. It is a wonderful thing to have a group of friends that you are able to grow older with; when time and geography seem to have no effect on the common affection and admiration between you. Tom, Carrie, Tim, Bec. Thanks for a great night. We'll see you in July.


I shall now use the word, behoove, in a sentence:

It behooves us to be patient with our neighbors, even when we feel that they play their music to loudly after we are in bed for the night.


I exchanged salty words with my neighbor last night over the abundant volume of his music. In my hoodie and ball-cap, I strode wraith-like towards my ruckus intruders, firing my high powered flash light at them as I hissed verbal venom, demanding explanation for my sleeps murder.


Sound melodramatic? It was. My reaction was overkill and snarly, and almost immediately after I'd berated my neighbor, I felt ridiculous. My neighbor is a decent guy and loud music has never been much of an issue before. In addition, my complaint smacked of hypocrisy. Most afternoons I paint to music than could easily be enjoyed from the sidewalk outside my front door. Of course it's not unreasonable to expet my neighbors to keep noise levels low after dark, but this is the city, and we have chosen to live where we do, for benefits that for us far outweigh the negatives. Also, my neighbor is not the most advantaged fellow, and I hate attacking someone who doesn't have nearly the ammunition that I've got in my arsenal. Dangerously, my mouth is a delicately balanced model that comes fully loaded, and is standard equipped with a factory installed hair-trigger. Sometimes it's better to just empy the chamber in my mind and put in ear plugs.

I apologized to my neighbor this afternoon. I feel much better, and everything's cool between us again.




Despite possible feather ruffling, I'd like to continue a debate, which possibly only I care about. So with all due respect.

Earlier this week, the discussion came up of whether or not it is appropriate for a group of entertainers to interrupt their performance to solicit donations to benefit a non-profit organization. In this case, the band the Flobots were promoting their own non-profit, Fight With Tools, whose mission is according to their website: to "create a community of empowered music fans, that are actively engaged in social change". Exactly what this means I'm not sure, but I can always appreciate any group of people who use their talents and passion to lift people up, to give them a sense of worth.

Now, I understand when you go to a concert, art opening, theater performance, rodeo, or any other event that you've paid good money to attend, that the idea of paying more money to fund yet another altruistic vision, might cause some of us to stiffen and become annoyed, but let me point out, that when an artist or group takes the time to promote a cause and perhaps even ask for donations, the giving of donations is entirely optional. You will not be scoffed at if you don't donate and it's perfectly fine not to lend your money to every cause and charity. Perhaps hour budget won't allow it. Maybe you don't agree with a groups politics. The question was not meant to personally offend and it's ok to say 'no thanks'. Just today, in fact, I turned down and opportunity to underwrite Greenpeace as I walked home from work. I'll sleep fine tonight.

Unfortunately, good ideas sometimes are hampered because we become paralyzed by politeness. Stubbornly supporting only the common-form of etiquette inevitably leads us to such hypercritical and jaded points of view, as to call it bad-form when a group of musicians, who are known for promoting social justice and awareness through their music, asks that we might consider making a small donation that would put us out financially no more than the amount of money that might be wasted on a pack of cigarettes.

In the end, it's great if the art we enjoy entertains us, but we should be willing to be challenged by it as well.




Have a good weekend, Godspeed John Glenn,


Dave

queer courting and strange breeding

On Tuesday, I watched a silent movie, or drama rather. Out side the restaurant, standing on the corner were two young people, a man and woman, having an argument. By their poses and expressions, it seemed to be a lovers quarrel. More specifically, a break up. What made the exchange unique to me, was the fact that I knew that these two people were actors by trade. To be accurate, they were student-actors who attended the theater conservatory around the corner. I knew this because, while working at the restaurant, I had befriended a lady, who was an instructor at the conservatory.

The instructor was a regular for breakfast, coming in once or twice a week for a couple of years. She either order: a bowl of Raisin Brand with berries or one egg with toast. She hasn't been in for nearly six months, as I heard that her marriage had failed and she had returned to New York City where she is originally from. Sensing the distress in her personal life wasn't difficult as she was naturally a dramatic and emotional person. Once, upon seeing an example of my art work, she exclaimed, "This is f*!%ing beautiful!!". She did not use her indoor voice. She was merely looking at my business card, which has a portrait of myself on it; not exactly an ideal way to view a large painting. But she was none the less enthusiastic. I appreciated the emotional response to my work, however, in hindsight, I realize now that she could have just as easily been speaking about her bowl of Raisin Brand. This woman lived and breathed theater and was of a particular breed of creative-type who preferred her eggs poached, and slightly unstable.

In speaking with Madame Instructor one day, she became interested in the fact that I paint my portraits from photographs that I take myself. She asked if I would be interested in taking some pictures of her students as they rehearsed a series of 10 short plays written by Tennessee Williams. Ten by Ten was the title of the presentation, and over about two and a half hours, I watched the dress rehearsal of all 10 plays. It was great. I was one of only four other people in the audience and along with watching the dramas, I was privy to the direction and critiques of the performers by Madame Instructor as they worked. I shot about 24 pictures.

I think there were about a dozen actors, men and women, moving in and out of each drama. Two of the actors were now standing on the corner outside of my restaurant, in 20 degree weather, squared off against each other. To me, it looked like the girl was admitting she'd made a bad mistake and she was taking her medicine as the young man lectured at her. She would occasionally interject her point of view, but rarely made eye contact with the lad and simply nodded in agreement to her berater's accusations. This silent drama went on for at least 30 minutes, as I watched separated from their sound by the window glass. I wondered, had they had a tryst that the girl now regretted? Had this couple become intimate and now lusts flame had been doused? There was no doubt that the dispute involved a romantic cause. I watched their tragedy unfold, and was riveted. The two never moved from their spots and it didn't appear that they raised their voices. She kept her arms and hands still, either folded or clutching her bag. He was an inch or so shorter than her and was a bit more animated. I think I was observed spying by each of them, but they paid me no mind. Both times they looked my direction, I retreated, embarrassed. Then I'd find another location to peep from. I think I found this scene so interesting because I saw two people who were learning to make their living by making believe the very situation they now found themselves in, for real.

I soon found myself behind the bar and picked up the paper and began reading. I could both read and peek over the top of the paper and check the status of the silent struggle. I don't remember what article I was reading, but I glanced down at the paper for just a second. When I looked up, the girl was walking away and the boy was wiping his nose, looking at this hand, wiping his nose, looking at his hand, watching the girl walk away. I think he had just received a punch to the nose and he was checking to see if he was bleeding. Wiping his nose, looking at this hand...the young man watched for a moment in the direction of her departure, and walked the opposite way.


I'd missed the climax of my drama! It was sort of like watching Star Wars and deciding to walk to the kitchen to get myself a beer just before Luke blows up the Death Star! I'd been building up in my mind how it might end. Perhaps a sword fight! They were actors after all. Maybe a When Harry met Sally ending with tears, love, and a proposal. But here, it ended with a pop to the nose. Maybe just before she smacked him, everything went black and white and the film speed increased just enough to be comical. The smack caused the young man to fall down on his bottom and the beautiful young lady spoke one last insult to his manhood and turned with a jerk to leave him sitting in the snow, legs splayed, hair mussed and his dignity lying about him. I'm sure that's how it happened, I think, I didn't exactly see it. Dang.

It serves me right. Peeking through a keyhole to watch someone else's misery can't be justified. Still.... Here are some of the pictures I took last summer of the angry ex-lovers during my visit to the Williams' plays.













A thing that might make you go....

Long time Colorado resident Hunter S. Thompson, deceased as of February 2005, self-inflicted via .45 caliber, has apparently left behind a bit of himself. In a recent interview, Thompson's wife, Anita Thompson, reported that her late husband had left behind an undisclosed amount of his sperm for her to use in any child bearing she might wish to partake in. "Hunter, you always remembered the little things."

Ms. Thompson has, of yet, not decided whether to use the Gonzo sperm. I imagine, not before she answers the ethical and moral question of reincarnating another possible Traveler for the Lords of Karma.

.....Hmmm.

Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he or she grows up. Very true, Pablo. Go create something.


Have a good weekend everyone, and Godspeed, John Glenn,


Dave

of football and frugality

Holly-moly. Cold was what it was this morning. Five degrees when I stepped out of bed at 4:30 this morning. It had risen to nine degrees by the time Sharon drove me to work an hour later. The parking lots and empty streets were desolate tundras.

Momentum (and computer results) slid in favor of Oklahoma Football fans last weekend. Super Sam went airborne more than once and handed the Pokes a healthy defeat. All due respect, however, to the Cowboys, who gave the Sooners their most exciting challenge this season and played and excellent game. The Cowboy's newly expanded stadium looked pretty sweet too. The big 12 championship game this weekend will be exciting again for me and will, I predict, lead to the Sooners playing Florida in the National Championship game January 8th. Stay tuned.


Did I say that I made ricotta last week? It turned out great, and it seemed to get better a few days later. I'll probably need to make sure the rest of it gets eaten this weekend. To get the best of it's flavors, let the cheese come to slightly cooler than room temperature before you eat it. It will stay fresh in your fridge for about five days. Here's the recipe.


Ricotta

Makes approximately 12 ounces of cheese

1 cup heavy cream
2 quarts whole milk (organic is best)
5 lemons (for 1 cup lemon juice)
1 cup buttermilk
pinch of salt

1/4 cup heavy cream to fold in after the cheese has been hanged

Tools needed: citrus reamer, sauce pan, cheese cloth

Ream the lemons; set juice aside.

Bring cream and whole milk to a boil. add lemon juice, buttermilk, and salt. Reduce heat to low and simmer, stir until thick. The mixture will be watery with clumps of curd.

Place a colander in the sink and line it with about four large layers of cheese cloth. Carefully pour the hot cheese into the cloth lined colander to drain. Gather the corners of the cheese cloth; knot the top and hang over kitchen sink (I use a piece of kitchen string to hang cheese from the faucet) Drain 12 hours.

Using an electric mixer or simply a fork, whip additional heavy cream into room temperature ricotta until it is the consistency of soft ice cream.

Around the country, and I assume the world, the art market is behaving like most other markets. Business is down and collectors are cautious. It may be a necessity for an artist to create, but it is not a necessity that the fruits be purchased. Noble ideas will endure but the electric bill must be paid first.

If frugality isn't a requirement and you're looking for something interesting to do this weekend; it's Nobel Week in Stockholm. Laureates from around the world will be partying in white ties in the rarefied air of Swedish food markets, sampling Swedish meatballs with lingonberry preserves and cucumber salad. The Prizes will be awarded on Wednesday 10th, concurrently the Peace Prize will be awarded in Oslo. I understand that nearly 20% of the Swedish population watches the awards ceremony on television. Rooms with a view of the harbor at the Grand Hotel begin at $593 a night.

We have a 25-inch Phillips Magnavox TV that is about 10 years old. On Monday, we attached a digital converter box to it in preparation for the analog sign-off on February 17th. After a bit of trial and error, and a brief tutorial from a 14 year-old via Youtube, we switched on the set and the converter box and beheld the razor-shine of pure digital imagery that poured from our old TV. We are still using an analog antenna to capture the signal, but we now have about 15 channels compared to 5. The picture is flawless and free. Why don't we pay for cable? Eh.

Tonight and Saturday night, Denver kicks off the Christmas season with the Parade of Lights. It's always cold and you have to wait close to an hour before the parade makes it's way to where Sharon and I stand on 16th street. But, we haven't missed the parade for 7 years running. It's fun to be out with thousands of our neighbors celebrating and it gets us pumped up for the holiday. We're gonna decorate our own house for Christmas tonight after happy hour. Cheers.

Have a good weekend everyone, and Godspeed, John Glenn,


Dave

finally, fresh cheese

At last, Denver saw it's first snow of the season this morning. At 7 am it was sticking to the grass, but I don't expect it to linger. With an apology to Sharon, I'm very happy that the cold has arrived. The forecast for the next two nights are lows around 18 degrees.

When the temperature dips, I move to listening to sacred works of music. They are heavy and solemn, different from a symphony. The holy masses of Mozart and Beethoven are perfect for gray snowy days. Two in particular, Mozart's Mass in C and Beethoven's Missa Solemnis.

The Idea series continues. I've finished the fourth painting, and I'm very happy with it. For those coming to our house on Sunday, it will be up on the wall available for pre-viewing. I hope to begin preparing the board for number five next week, with the goal of having it completed by December 12th. 

The year-bell will chime 38 times for yours-truly tomorrow. Among other things, November 15th has come to represent blueberries and oysters. Since I began celebrating my birthdays with Sharon (8 years ago), I've been blessed with a tall stack of homemade blueberry pancakes each birthday morning, and then, at the end of the day as the whistle blows, we grab our hats and head to the fish house to join a platter of a dozen or more fresh shucked oysters and one or more ice-glazed martinis. There are few marriages more perfect than oysters and martinis, and there is no better time to drink a martini than on your birthday when the weather has turned cold. This is my idea of a perfect birthday dinner. Sharon opts for the peel-and-eat shrimp and a glass or more of red. 

Tomorrow, I think will be gallery day. We've yet to visit the Museum of Contemporary Art down the road; and there's another relatively new gallery called The Lab that I'm interested in also.

Later, we have reservations for dinner at Il Posto. This is an awesome little Italian restaurant across town, off of 17th. We've eaten there once before with our friends Tom and Cindy. There are no menus. All of the night's offerings are written on two large chalk boards. The menu changes daily and the food is numero uno. Nice wine list too.

Cheese has been on my mind more than usual. I'm going to make ricotta cheese this weekend. If you've never had fresh ricotta, seek it out. It is the only way to fly. Pair it with grilled bread and a tomato jam. Holy-mouth-watering-creation.

I made paneer last week. Paneer is Indian cheese. It's a snap to make. Whole milk, apple cider vinegar, heat. Once it's drained and pressed, I cut it into cubes, flour it, and then fry it in ghee (Indian butter). Then I stir it into a savory spice-laced tomato sauce. Sublime.

We've lots of cooking to do this weekend. Sharon's arranged for family to visit us Sunday afternoon for lunch and birthday cake. We've 8 quarts of minestrone to make, eight sheet pans of focaccia to bake for the panini along with one Italian Cream birthday cake. I'd better go clean my kitchen.

Ode to the oyster

Unwilling Kamikaze

your cover scrapes and catches

in the cold currents

deep and protected

evolution brings to me

delicious, metallic, briny,

soft, glowing. I am

seduced.

your spirit is imagined

and your wet intentions

meet my whet appetite.

Grey and silver mercury folds

sweet and giving

the sea itself.

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

sweet beginning

I tremble. I just got off the phone with Mom, and Dad & Karrie. Champagne and tears flow. I've been swapping texts with my brothers Matt and Ben. Sharon and I hugged, kissed, cried happy tears, danced, kissed, and hugged. I opened the front door and 'yee-hawed!' at the top of my lungs.

We are different now. On the night I saw President-elect Obama speak in Denver on the last night of the Democratic convention, I spoke to a homeless black man as we walked home and he was jubilant. I wonder what he's feeling now. There is celebratory gunfire in the black, 5-Points neighborhood of Denver. I wish I had a gun to shoot in celebration too.

Sharon is in bed. I walked down to the corner liquor store and bought myself a celebratory beer. It's owned by a middle aged couple from the Middle East. The man and I grinned at each other when I walked in. The woman rang me up and we smiled broadly at each other and shook hands. We spoke quickly and excitedly to each other. She said that this night was for the future of her children and her grandchildren and for anyone who works hard.

I told her that I'm ready to have children. She laughed and said "Get to it! Your wife is beautiful!"

I just set off a round of Black-Cats in front of my home.


I'm reminded of Sheridan, who's new baby daughter could become our president in the future.

I was 13 before I had a conversation with a black person. While I was on vacation in Denver with my family, years ago, a man at a Target store approached me. I was in the music section looking at cds. He asked me who sang the song People Are People. I knew the answer was Depeche Mode, but I couldn't recall this at the time because I was, though innocently, distracted by his skin.

I'm grown now, and long ago I fertilized the ground with that distraction, and so has my country.



Senator Obama will be sworn into office on Tuesday, January 20th, 2009. When he is sworn in, he will stand on stone steps that were built and put into place by black slaves.


The doors have been swung wide. For everyone who helped make tonight happen, thank you. Me and myself are very, very happy fellows. Que Beethoven's 9th, Ode to Joy.





God bless us, everyone.

Dave

the finish

Hello everybody,

Enjoy this election day essay by John Tierney from the New York Times - November 4th 2008.

Happy voting.

Obama and McCain Walk Into a Bar...

By John Tierney

While Americans choose their next president, let us consider a question more amenable to science: Which candidate's supporters have a better sense of humor? In strict accordance with experimental protocol, we begin by asking you to rate, on a scale of 1 (not funny at all) to 9 (hilarious) the following three attempts at humor:

A) Jake is about to chip onto the green at his local golf course when a long funeral procession passes by. He stops in mid-swing, doffs his cap, closes his eyes and bows in prayer. His playng companion is deeply impressed. "That's the most thoughtful and touching thing I've ever seen," he says. Jake replies, "Yeah, well, we were married 35 years."

B) I think there should be something in science called the "reindeer effect." I don't know what it would be, but I think it'd be good to hear someone say, "Gentlemen, what we have here is a terrifying example of the reindeer effect."

C) If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I'd say Flippy, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong, though, It's Hambone.

Those were some of the jokes rated by nearly 300 people in Boston in a  recent study. (You can rate some of the others at TierneyLab.) The researchers picked out a variety of jokes - good, bad, conventional, absurdist - to look for differences in reactions between self-described liberals and conservatives.

They expected conservatives to like traditional jokes, like the one about the golfing widower, that reinforce racial and gender stereotypes. And because liberals had previously been reported to be more flexible and open to new ideas, the researchers expected them to get a bigger laugh out of unconventional humor, like Jack Handey's "Deep Thoughts" about the reindeer effect and Hambone.

Indeed, the conservatives did rate the traditional golf and marriage jokes as significantly funnier than the liberals did. But they also gave higher ratings to the absurdist "Deep Thoughts." In fact, they enjoyed all kinds of humor more.

"I was surprised," said Dan Ariely, a psychologist at Duke University, who collaborated on the study with Elisabeth Malin, a student at Mount Holyoke College. "Conservatives are suppose to be more rigid and less sophisticated, but they liked even more complex humor."

Do conservatives have more fun? Should liberals start describing themselves as humor-challenged? To investigate these questions, we need to delve into the science of humor (not a funny enterprise), starting with two basic kinds of humor identified in the 1980s by Willibald Ruch, a psychologist who now teaches at the University of Zurich.

The first category is incongruity-resolution humor, or INC-RES in humor jargon. It covers traditional jokes and cartoons in which the incongruity of the punch line (the husband who misses his wife's funeral) can be resolved by other information (he's playing golf). You can clearly get the joke, and it often reinforces stereotypes (the golf-obsessed husband).

Dr. Ruch and other researchers reported that this humor, with its orderly structure and reinforcement of stereotypes, appealed most to conservatives who shunned ambiguity and complicated new ideas, and who were more repressed and conformist than liberals.

The second category, nonsense humor, covers many "Far Side" cartoons, Monty Python sketches and "Deep Thoughts." The punch line's incongruity isn't neatly resolved - you're left to enjoy the ambiguity and absurdity of the reindeer effect or Hambone's affection for dolphins. This humor was reported to appeal to liberals because of their "openness to ideas" and their tendency to "seek new experiences."

But then why didn't the liberals in the Boston experiment like the nonsense humor of "Deep Thoughts" as much as the conservatives did? One possible explanation is that conservatives' rigidity mattered less than another aspect of their personality. Todd Martin, the author of "The Psychology of Humor," said the results of the Boston study might reflect another trait that has been shown to correlate with a taste for jokes: cheerfulness.

"Conservatives tend to be happier than liberals in general," said Dr. Martin, a psychologist at the University of Western Ontario. "A conservative outlook rationalizes social inequality, accepting the world as it is, and making it less of a threat to one's well-being, whereas a liberal outlook leads to dissatisfaction with the world as it is, and a sense that things need to change before one can be really happy."

Another possible explanation is that conservatives, or at least the ones in Boston, really aren't the stiffs they're made out to be by social scientists. When these scientists analyze conservatives, they can sound like Victorians describing headhunters in Borneo. They try to be objective, but it's an alien culture.

The studies hailing liberals' nonconformity and "openness to ideas" have been done by social scientists working in a culture that's remarkably homogenous politically. Democrats outnumber Republicans by at least seven to one on social science and humanities faculties, according to studies by Daniel Klein, an economist at George Mason University. If you're a professor who truly "seeks new experiences," try going into a faculty club today and passing out McCain-Palin buttons.

Could it be that the image of conservatives as humorless, dogmatic neurotics is base more on political bias than sound social science? Philip Tetlock, a psychologist at the University of California, Berkeley, who reviews the evidence of  cognitive differences in his 2005 book, "Expert Political Judgement," said that while there were valid differences, "liberals and conservatives are roughly equally closed-minded in dealing with dissonant real-world evidence."

So perhaps conservatives don't have a monopoly on humorless dogmatism. Maybe the stereotype of the dour, rigid conservative has more to do with social scientists' groupthink and wariness of outsiders - which, come to think of it, resembles the herding behavior of certain hoofed animals. Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a terrifying example of the reindeer effect.

Have a good day, and Godspeed, America

Dave

"the fierce urgency of now,"

Time moves, and then it's either a foot note or red letter.

I spent the week edging two new paintings.





One that will be a full body portrait of my grandfather, and the other, an in-progress painting that is number four-of-six in the Idea series. Number four is coming together nicely.

I began attending wine classes this week. The wine sommelier of Restaurant Kevin Taylor is providing first level wine instruction to any employee of the company, for free. This class would cost me about a thousand bucks if I were to seek this education on my own.

We began by smelling twelve different aromas contained in individual glass vials and recorded our impressions and what we thought each aroma was. I deduced four of them correctly. The aromas included: strawberry, leather, violets / lavender, anise, cherry, cedar, mushroom, smoke, etc.

Our focus will be on Italian wines for the first few weeks. All information will be cursory and will give me basic knowledge. It would take literally years to understand fully the wines from Tuscany alone. Despite the Italian itinerary, we blind tasted seven wines, all from Spain. Notes were written down and then we ranked them, least favorite to favorite.

I'm happy to be taking this course which will last through the rest of the year, convening each Wednesday. The wine sommelier, Kevin Arndt, is a laid back guy, a bit younger than me. He's exceptionally educated in oenology, but without pretense. A few years back, he won first prize in a Halloween costume contest wearing a homemade costume of Boba Fett.

Wine removes the burrs of the day and puts a period on the days work. Evaluating my satisfaction or disappointment in the day's or week's progress through the lens of a red wine gives me strange powers of observation.


Ah, an interruption: The UPS man just arrived. Excellent, our new external hard drive just arrived. This was a practice in patience. About a year and a half ago, I decided that with all of the photos, music, and other digital stuff that we are amassing, I wanted a 1 terabyte drive to ensure that it could all be backed up and leisurely stored, but I wasn't willing to pay more than $200 for it. Patience won and this week I paid $165 for the new 1TB drive. To all who are looking for any computer stuff, check out newegg.com.


Now, what was I saying? Oh yea, strange powers of observation. A glass of Malbec, (spice and earth) or Pinot Noir (of ancient heritage and genetically freaky) or a noble Nebbiolo (rich and chewy) gives me super-insight to the greatness or mediocrity of my work. Usually in the same swallow. It helps me evaluate how behind schedule I am and if I should worry about it or not. I make plans. I change plans. I wonder how I can be more productive. I'm moved to restless and fierce urgency to produce as much as I can. And then to delight, that I control my own clock. "Yes, Sharon, I'll have another glass. Thank you."


Another interruption: Phil Bender just called and left a message. Phil is a Denver artist who is the Grand Senior of Pirate Gallery here in el barrio. Tonight is the Dia de Los Muertos party at Pirate. He's calling to ask if I can help out with set up. Hmm. It's always good to stay in contact with established artists, and the party's usually fun. A parade of the Dead snakes it's way through the neighborhood with candles, drums, and Skeletons. Then everybody goes back to the gallery for art, music, and beer. Great fun. Perhaps I could put in an hour or two. It would be a good way to spend Halloween night. I'm sure Sharon would dig it.




To continue: I've been painting for a decade and I'm grateful that I began working as soon as I did. I have something to show for my sweat. I think the 2009 harvest will be a memorable one. A show feels imminent and I'm growing hungry to initiate gallery contact. Am I ready? Ready as I'll ever be, and from where I stand today, the view is ripe and it's almost happy hour.




And last:





Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,

Dave

cabernet savig-weiser

Briefly, my summation:

Mr. McCain: Intelligent, Ernest, Nostalgic, Stagnate.

Mrs. Palin: Smart, Frank, Driven, Unknown, Puppet.

Mr. Obama: Intelligent, Progressive, Inspirational, Relevant, Presidential.

Mr. Biden: Intelligent, Frank, Rounded, Compassionate, Whitest teeth in the universe.

With all the talk of 'Joe Six-pack' and 'Joe the Plumber', I found a related article in the paper this week.


Obama Clinches 'Joe Cabernet Sauvignon' Vote

October 16th, 2008

WASHINGTON- Following a strong performance by the Democratic nominee in Tuesday's Presidential debate, political analysts overwhelmingly agree that Sen. Barack Obama has all but clinched the much-sought-after "Joe Cabernet Sauvignon" voting bloc. "Once again, Obama has proved his ability to speak directly to all the regular truffle-oil-guzzlin', Nabokov-readin', opera-attendin' folks who play such an important part in deciding this election," MSNBC commentator Chris Mathews said of the Illinois senator's strong connection with the nation's hardworking gallery owners, literary critics and gourmet-cheese purveyor. "His strong rapport with the average haut monde Joseph could tip the scales Nov. 4." Sen. John McCain's recent attempts to reach out to this constituency by wearing an elegant silk ascot where not well received, having been described in most quarters as "pandering of the most contemptuous variety."

-the Onion

After a numbingly long campaign, four debates, and several silly impersonations complements of Fey and Poehler, I'm ready to push the button.

I count no chicken before it's been turned into chicken-soup,




...but I feel very positive about the forthcoming election. I am hopeful to watch the pendulum swing back towards the center. It's been like waiting for Halley's to return.

When I think about the two major parties, Democrat and Republican, I perceive them as two separate cheeks on the same giant national ass. While both have their merits, they both are capable of creating a great stink. Moderation is not a strength of either cheek, so the continual shifting of power must be endured by the ductile middle constituents that have recently grown to make up nearly one-third of the attendance.

I hear the cries all the time, "We don't need the stinking right cheek, Banish it!" From the opposite shore, "Whoa was the day that the left cheek entered the scene! Death to the left cheek!" I grow weary of the rattle.

Blended wines have produce some beautiful offspring, so perhaps...

Should Senator Obama receive the promotion that I'm endorsing, I hope we will be able to get into some desperately needed national deep cleaning. I know that spit and polish is uncomfortable for some people. Articulation worries some folks and drinking beer imported from somewhere other than a Budwiser factory is a bit suspect. But fear not, a good scrubbing of the floors never hurt anyone and most often allows one to find that lost puzzle piece behind the couch.

Now that the debates are past-tense, I feel a little more relaxed. Time to crack a beer and a smile. Last night at a charity fund raiser at New York's Waldorf Astoria Hotel, the candidates cracked jokes. Sen. Obama remarked: "Barack is actually Swahili for 'that one,'" Obama deadpanned to the tuxedoed crowd. "And I got my middle name from somebody who obviously didn't think I'd ever run for president."

McCain told the crowd that Obama wasn't upset by his awkward "that one" reference during their second debate. "He doesn't mind at all," McCain said. "In fact, he even has a pet name for me: George Bush."


In another article, Americans appear ready to lighten up.

Poll: 85% Of Americans Would Like To See Candidates Compete In Funny Obstacle Course

October 15, 2008

WASHINGTON—According to a USA Today–Gallup poll released Monday, as many as 85 percent of Americans strongly wish to see Sens. Barack Obama and John McCain race through a gauntlet of comically ludicrous hazards and encumbrances sometime before Nov. 4. "Voters want to know how Obama's poise compares with McCain's experience, specifically when racing to pick the flag out of a giant foam nose," political analyst and Gallup pollster Brian Garfield said. "It has been a grueling nominating season, and now the American people want to see the candidates prove their mettle in a gigantic syrup moat. If they react the wrong way under pressure—say, on some sort of gravy slide or human-size hamster wheel—the results could be hilarious." At press time, neither candidate had comment, as they were both being zipped into sumo suits.

-the Onion

So, in the days ahead, don't worry, eat good food, walk through the leaves on the street, enjoy this season, and vote mindfully, prayerfully. Vote your conscious. Have faith in your family, your friends and neighbors. If you're a person of faith, have faith in God, as I do. Everything will be alright. Remember, the President is just a hired temp. It is our behavior that has far more impact on what kind of country we live in.

"You must do what you feel is right, of course." - Ben Kenobi

Have a good weekend, and Godspeed, John Glenn,


Dave