Month: September 2001

From the Yeah, That’d Be A Tip Off Dept.: “[Suspected terrorist hanger-on Zacarias] Moussaoui apparently had raised suspicions because he sought training in flying commercial jets at flights schools in Oklahoma and Minnesota but showed no interest in learning about takeoffs or landings.” – CNN.

A review of the State of My Body over the last three days, since my first football game of the year:
Saturday: Oh, this is nothing! All parts reporting ready for duty, sir. A little hungover, but that’s okay.
Sunday: Well, it’s awful nice of my body to alert me to the existence of so many small muscles I otherwise wouldn’t notice. Like that two-square-inch patch of muscle in my middle back that feels like a rubber band being snapped whenever I move, or that place that used to be the back of my right knee and is now an 80-year-old rusty door hinge. At least the pains are isolated.
Monday: Sweet heavenly grace, make it stop! I swear I had functioning limbs once. Just a couple of days ago, I think.

I am proud to report that, just like the last game of last season, today’s Media Football League opener ended with a touchdown by yours truly. Please see the contact page to see where to send congratulatory flowers.
But halfway through our game, the Park Nazis paid us a visit. See, we play at Northaven Park in North Dallas, and some of the neighbors evidently don’t like it when people use their park for strange things like recreation. They got parks officials to ban soccer in much of the park earlier this year; some say it was for nasty racial reasons, since most of the soccer players were Hispanic and it’s a white neighborhood. Anyway, when 10 of us showed up at 9:30 a.m. to play football, two different neighbors called to complain! I have no idea why — we certainly weren’t being noisy or obnoxious; there was no one else in the park at that early hour; the homes are quite some distance away from where we were. So this parks official shows up and says he’s gotten these complaints, but “now that he’s seen” us, “it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.” What’s that supposed to mean, that because 7 of the 10 of us were Anglo, everything is okay? It left us all (or me, at least) quite angry: since when do our tax dollars go to harrass Dallas residents using public parks to the detriment of absolutely no one?

Went to the Gypsy Tea Room last night to see Wilco for the third time. At one point on stage, Jeff Tweedy said something about how this was a historic night in the band’s existence, and I suppose it was: it was the first time the new lineup (sadly, sans Jay Bennett) played live, and it was the world premiere of most of the songs from their new, as-yet-unreleased album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.
(Wilco was summarily bounced from their silly label, Reprise, a couple of months ago because higher-ups deemed the new album “too uncommercial.” While it won’t be out through the normal channels until early 2002, you can find it online in the usual illegal places, and it’s streaming at the band’s web site.)
While it was a dumb move on Reprise’s part, I have no trouble understanding why a scared label exec might not get the new stuff; it’s much more shambolic and found-sound-y than earlier Wilco. Several of the songs devolve into quiet, collapsing structures. (The closest analog I can think of is some of Big Star’s third record, like “Kanga Roo.”) It was a much more subdued Wilco show than the others I’ve gone to; instead of the usual rave-up on “Casino Queen,” the last half of the show was quiet stuff like “Sunken Treasure.” But I’m more than willing to follow Tweedy on whatever path he takes the band down. He’s got a touch of artistry about him not many folks do.

One other story from Thursday’s paper: the local school district is announcing a new initiative to get area residents to serve as mentors to at-risk ninth-graders. Sounds like a good idea.

There’s currently a debate going on at dfwblogs about the patriotic color scheme on the group’s web site. (If you can’t see what I’m talking about at that link, it’s probably because the site is scheduled to be redesigned today.) Some members of the group have expressed dismay at the idea of having a neutral community site take on a partisan air.
I tend to agree, although in the end it’s not my site and the owner should have final say. But the whole incident did call to mind one of my fears during times like this: that refusing to give over one’s life entirely to all things patriotic ends up being accused of being a Fifth Columnist or anti-American or whatever epithet someone can come up with. (It used to be “Communist,” of course.)
On Tuesday, I interviewed Pat Snuffer, owner of Snuffer’s, a two-restaurant chain here in Dallas. He has a longstanding policy at his restaurants that employees can’t wear ribbons, buttons, or any other sort of adornment on their uniforms. And it doesn’t matter whether it’s a Korn button or an American flag ribbon — no dice. Some people are mad and say he’s somehow being un-American. He’s gotten emails saying “Snuffer’s supports Bin Laden.” Whatever you think about the man’s actions (he willingly labels himself “controlling”), it says something that uniform policy at a restaurant best know for its cheese fries has become a point of patriotic argument. (Snuffer says he’s having small American flag sewn onto all employee aprons in response to last week’s events.)

Well, I’ll be damned: both my wishes came true. Bush did a hell of a job, sounding more confident than any other time I’ve heard him, even if he did look to be on the brink of tears throughout the whole thing. I don’t know who’s writing the speeches for him nowadays, but he’s got a winner.
Asides: Rumsfeld looks like a minor Dick Tracy character — what, is that jaw soldered on? Hillary needs to understand the camera is going to go to her at least a few times there’s a speech at the Capitol, and that if she’s clapping lackadaisically and looking sour, it’s not helping her image. There was a moment early on in the speech when Bush looked like he was imitating Bill Clinton: that upturned clinched fist, combined with the lean-in, is sooo Bill. And poor Bob Byrd, he looked like he was about to collapse from having to stand so long at Cheney’s seat.
And Bonds went deep. (Okay, just once, not four times, but one is plenty. I think he’s gonna do it.)

If, like me, you get tired of hitting reload on CNN.com, take a look at the San Jose Mercury News’ weblog on the ongoing crisis. Here’s hoping Bush knocks one out of the park tonight. (And actually, here’s hoping Barry Bonds knocks four out of the park tonight.)

Probably my favorite song on Stephen Malkmus’ recent album is “Pink India,” a sad, strangely adult-sounding song set in the first time the West was interested in Afghanistan: the battle for colonial control then termed, in a show of arrogance strangely appropriate for colonialism, “The Great Game.” Some lyrics: As the news comes across the air today: / “Tension grows in Afghanistan / Carbine bullets could settle the score” / I had a crap gin tonic, it wounded me.

I’m certainly not nearly important to have a window view at the office, but I do at least have a view of the people who have a window view. On a normal day, the flag outside is too high up for it to be visible to those of us on the third floor. But when it’s at half-staff, it’s right there in your face.