Petty Tyrants

Sometimes it is just appalling how awful people are about everything and to anyone no matter what the situation.
For example, I had to go to the DMV, always a pleasant experience, for a second time in a month. The first time we had been told that we had filled out the transfer form wrong. The beloved's Rev. Auntie was leaving the country and we decided that the peeb nation fit in her car real well so we'd buy the car off her. The Rev was leasing the car, so the (paperless) title had to go from the lease company to her and then from her to us. And we had just mashed it all up on one piece of paper that the lady at the DMV had given us. So she told us to come back with two orange pieces of paper - going from the lease company to the Rev and then from the rev to us. Okay. So the Rev sent us the needed orange document from the lease company to her. Then she left for the outer Hebrides to bring the word of our lord to some sheep, some salmon and some men in skirts with no underwear. I popped over to the DMV.

So I explained to the woman behind the DMV counter what had happened, proudly displayed the two orange pieces of paper, waited for her to grock it. Then she said, whose Akbar? Which is something that I don't grock. I don't know I said. Well, whose Akbar she said again, quite pointlessly I thought, like why don't you give me more info because I don't know who Akbar is and I don't know why you're talking to him, capice? Well it turns out the VIN number was wrong, and Akbar had the VIN number on the (paperless) title, and so while the ORANGE pieces of paper and all my documents had ONE VIN Number the (paperless) title had Akbar's VIN number. So the woman behind the DMV counter told me to take the car, go around back follow the signs and get the car VERIFIED. What she didn't tell me was that I was supposed to take the car to the big glass doors right in front of her. Whatever, I can follow directions. So I get in the car and follow the signs and get in the VERIFICATION lane which is empty and right next to the driving test lane which has a line in it. The two lanes go up around the building and have little signs on the pavement demarking the lanes, here driving test, here VERIFICATION lane. With a STOP sign indicator for each lane. All the driving test people were in line behind the STOP sign and I drive up to the VERIFICATION STOP. I wonder briefly why I'm not parking way back there in front of the glass doors so that the behind the counter DMV woman can see that I am following directions waiting for VERIFICATION. But I am a smart chick, I can read, and so I park where the signs tell me to park. There is a guard guy ordering the test drive lane cars, and he sees me, waves at me and goes on ordering the driving test cars. When he has gone up and down the driving car lanes he comes over to me and asks "Are there a lot of people in there?" motioning to the brick DMV building beside us. "Yes, it's very crowded today." I say. "How many people are in there?" he asks, "A lot, it's crowded" I repeat, "You wouldn't know how many people are in there, would you?" "Many, many people are in there, " I say thinking maybe he doesn't like the word crowded. "Can you tell me exactly how many people are in there?" "Probably the average amount of people are in there, for an average September week day" I reply, getting more and more annoyed with guard guy. "But you wouldn't KNOW" he says triumphantly. "Not exactly," I say. "You wouldn't know cause you cant see through a wall!" I am amazed. I can't see through walls, doesn't he know that I am Superman's sister? I actually DO have X-Ray vision and can see that he has a very small penis. I don't often let on about who I am.

"So how can you expect them to see you if you're not in front of the glass doors?" He goes on to tell me. "Why does it say to stop here then?" I ask, but what I really want to do is punch this guy. "I don't know, but you have to move back." He proceeds to talk to me more about buildings, brick walls, signs; with his arm on the car door so I CAN'T MOVE BACK.

Well it goes on and on after that, but that guy is going to have one short life, because someone some day is going to have temper management issues. Someone who has no patience with being in some frigging Kafkaesque bureaucratic insane asylum is going to take him out. And I will testify on behalf of the defense, asking for clemency.

And of course, I have to go back.

Reviews

There is a wee show at the Museum of Arts and Crafts that we went to see this weekend. Called Tigers and Jagaurs it featured local artists (L.A.) and was about Asian\Latino synergy and influence. Of note were Bari Kumar's "Mas Para Menos", which featured a multi-armed Kali\Jesus figure. Totally fantastic. And Clement Hamani's "Rice Rocket", a low-rider rick shaw blaring 70s oldies. Richard Duardo's energetic mish mosh of punk\asian\latino prints and Shizu Saldamando's chinese screen of a Hungington Park party. Small but choice. Upstairs there was a much larger exhibit of palestinian embroidery, that made me think, "Oh those Poor Exploited Women!" It certainly didn't make me feel how great palestinian culture was, it just made me think about how OPPRESSED those women are.

This is actually wrong, and not just silly wrong

SO I was bumming around the internet, avoiding working, (yes! I am working, for pay and once, for a facial) and I found this photo of the Sedan Crater. I have a rule that all the photography I put on the blog is mine, but this isn't. Since I haven't been to the Nevada Nuclear Test Site.

This is wrong. Making explosives that make craters you can see from outer space AND that are radioactive is immoral. Why would anyone want to do this? What moral compass do they have? Reading the articles that came out on the 20th anniversary of the Chernobyl accident, I was amazed that anyone would want to continue to build new nuclear power plants. A week later the L.A. Times had an article about how nuclear waste site designers have to figure out warning signs that will last 100,000 years and be legible in languages that haven't even been invented yet.

Think about that. Warning signs for the ages in languages we haven't imagined yet.

Meanwhile the bobos in washington have continued to fuck up the world, squandering all good will towards the U.S. by invading a country that didn't do anything and now they don't have enough manpower or friends to stop nuclear proliferation, which, I hasten to mention, will actually increase the probability of dead people coming your way.

I originally wrote "Bonobos in Washington" but those monkeys would be doing a better job than the ID10ts currently there.

Orchid

Here's an orchid that I've adopted and almost killed, but it is apparently happy and blooming now.

Just Plain Wrong

apologies in advance. I don't have a picture, I didn't take my camera.

That said, it is just plain WRONG to wear your renaissance faire costume to the World Con Sci Fi convention. WRONG. Luckily there weren't a lot of people wearing Star Trek outfits, because most people at the Sci Fi convention were spherically challenged, and those outfits don't like an ounce of blubber, but still, at least a few pointy ears would be in keeping with the theme of the conference you spent money to attend. I hate to say this, but good old Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of York ain't in outerspace.

So I went to visit my cousin, who has been going to the sci fi convention since 1955, since it was in So Cal, this year and we had lunch and strolled the convention site.

There are many things that you don't really get to do as a grown-up, wear capes, make loud noises for no apparent reason, dress in costumes. Being a grown up is rather boring, so I'm all for a little fantasy dress up. In fact, speaking of loud noises I started tap dancing at one point because it's fun to make loud noises with your feet. Put me in a top hat and noisy shoes and I'm happy as a clam. But I do think ye merrye ye olde englunde is not sci-fi. Give me a Klingon, an Alien, Sigourney Weaver; but don't give me stale ale. If you know what I mean.

Anyway, there is a heavy duty component of FANTASY lumped into the fantasy - Sci-Fi world and so many people wear wizard costumes and purple velvet capes. You can buy handmade cape clasps in the shape of dragons and feather masks and such, lots of leather boots of all sorts - black shiny stiff storm trooper boots, soft brown leather elf boots. A rather popular, but to me totally bewildering, accessory was the tail. The first time I saw someone wearing a tail I thought, "Very few people's asses can take that kind of scrutiny. Yours for example. I wouldn't draw attention to it." Then I noticed it was a common trait, as it were. But wouldn't you think that people would be using something other than raccoon tails? First we have Elizabeth in Space, and now she's joined by DANIEL BOONE! Metaphors are getting mixed with a cement truck at the sci fi con! If I was going to wear a tail I think I would pick a dragon tail. Yet I did not see a single dragon tail being sported as I walked about. And did you notice? There was nary a tail at the Emmys last night. Someone better contact some Hollywood sylist types, I want to see Angelina in a tail. She's probably half dragon anyway.

So after lunch, we went up to the break out session on Restoration Dance. This is not THE EMPIRE being restored, but rather the secret Jane Austen sci-fi sect, who had gathered to do a little promenading around the conference room at the Hilton. Mr Bennett, Lizzie Bennett, Mrs. Bennett, Wharf, random Elizabethans, a few hobbits and some wizards were all there. I was reminded of going to the gay two stepping bar in Austin and watching the texan cowboy queers dance the two step together. Very fun to watch two guys in cowboy boots and hats waltz clog about the dance floor. Similarly, vary fun to watch a Klingon reach out a hand to touch the gloved fingers of Lizzie Bennett, who is wondering "Where the hell is DARCY?"

Well, I can never actually go attend the conference, since I obviously don't have the wardrobe, but it was grand fun and if you're in Japan next year, you can stop in.

Face Time

Well I haven't written in a while, and I'm just going to blame the house guest who is staying with us, who is the most polite house guest on earth and who really isn't the reason why, but I'll just do that anyway. I won't blame the depression that only large quantities of bittersweet chocolate gellato could assuage, depression in the face of the continued rejection of job seeking.

Anyway, my next door neighbor is running this really great e-commerce site called face city shop and since I live next door I just sort of invited myself over and said, what face products should I use? Well Robin asked what I was using and ominously told me, "Those products are good, and EXPENSIVE, but they're not PROFESSIONAL." Well, dear me! I want to be CHEAP and PROFESSIONAL! Except of course, at work where I want to be employed, expensive and professional. Anyway it turns out Robin doesn't really believe in night creme or eye creme, which bummed me out because I was looking forward to the Ultimate Lift Eye Gel on the face city site. So I can't report on that. But I did get some TRUTH SERUM (watch out when you come over for tea cause I'll put a few drops in yours and see what happens) and some soothing creme and this stuff smells like those chewable orange vitamin pills from the 70s. So it's kind of weird to occasionally get a whiff of that orange smell as you talk to people about why they should hire you. Even though they are 10 years younger than you are and have never worked at a profitable company before and so you know they aren't going to hire you and you wonder why they bothered.

But my skin looks pretty good, but it's very potent stuff and I quickly realized that I was using too much and the vit c was irritating my dermatitis - except you couldn't see it. And so most of my redness and blotchiness is kind of gone. I will report back when I've finished the bottles off. But so far, it's pretty good stuff.

Technology

I had this really good rant going about how this administration proves that neo con theories are totally stupid and bankrupt and how they've fucked everything up by being delusional school marms pointing their fingers at the world and tsk tsking when countries won't BEHAVE!
It was really good, but it all vanished when I tried to spell check, so you just have to take my word for it. It was pithy and well written and if Condi Rice read it she would fall down in tears. Alas, my ability to save the world was ruined by technology. Or my failure to SAVE prior to spell checking.
So here is a photo of a plaque at the Santa Barbara City Hall honoring the original white women settlers who came there. I thought it was appropriate today since today is not only the anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima, but Henry Gates had an op-ed piece in the NYT about trying to find the descendants of the few free black patriots who fought in the American Revolutionary War so that they can join the Sons or Daughters of the Revolution. The DAR being the group that refused to allow the mezzo soprano Marian Anderson to sing in their hall because she was black. Most of the free black men who fought in the revolutionary war fought for the British, since they had abolished slavery back in Britain by then and they offered to manumit any slaves who fought for them. This was one of those anarchic things that tickled my fancy. Imagine the stuffed up snobby DAR and SAR meetings being suddenly packed with african americans. Hee heee!

The Hood: Flora

I am not one who likes "privacy plantings" as they are called. They are not pedestrian friendly. Or community friendly. They are the opposite of the front porch that makes neighborhoods neighborhoody. I mean a few discreet plantings are all well and good. I have placed a potted senna, a lovely bush\vine, in front of my living room window, but it is literally in front of my ground floor living room window. Every time the neighbors walked by on their way to the trash my dogs went crazy. This bush just affords a little more privacy and makes people not walk directly in front of my window. It doesn't wall off my entire house from the community.

Well this picture is of privacy plantings run amok. Yes - there's a house back there!!! Vines cover the entire house and all the fences. There was a sign up for a while, instructing the mailman to just "throw the mail over the hedge."

I love that - just throw the mail over the hedge. It's so devil may care. Throw caution and your Visa bill to the wind! Don't even bother to find the mailbox, we'll find the mail among the weeds. I wonder if there are mail rules governing how things need to be delivered. Like "A Post Officer Must Never Heave Mail." It sort of gives a new meaning to over the hedge.