He runs away from me. His tail is wagging. He enjoys the chase, knowing that I'll get him. He knows, because I tell him repeatedly. “I'm goin' to get you,” I yell after him, as he lures me to the kitchen. It's feeding time. By the time I catch up, he's half turned, dividing his attention between me and his empty bowl. He's extraordinary. He's forgiven me so many sins, that I can't possibly remember them all, forgiven all of the times I was cruel to him. Forgiven him all of the times he tore my hands, my skin, my flesh, sometimed down to bone, to remind me what's right and wrong. I have so much respect for him for being my compass, for not letting me get away with being a shit. Respect for being my mentor even as he understands that he's my charge.

Sam's interested, and while those objects that command his most deeply focused attentions are usually of at least questionabe edibility, the common occurences of his daily life still hold the power to draw him in. His awareness of the goings on around him is, in fact, one of his most particularly attractive traits, just as the ability to drift off almost anywhere, newly found at age ten, leading to being shocked and grumpy, upon awakening to other sneaky canines having acquired the ability to move closer silently, invisibly, is one of his most adorable flaws. He jumps to his feet, still half asleep, and warns the unwitting intruder with a sharp bark. As with a ripple emanating from his epicenter, all around him jump too.

There's also his nervousness. Even though it elicits mostly pity, at first, it's also endearing because it helps me to see his selectivity. Some times, my activities are the least of his concerns, yet on other occasions, like when we ambulate, or for that matter, skateboard among the crowds at outdoor shows, I'm it. His hindquarters begin to vibrate in an almost imperceptible quiver, and I become, by far, the heaviest body in his universe. Strangers with hands extended in friendship get a mildly curious, but mostly cursory sniff, an indifferent kiss, and his orbit returns him to my back. Of course, when we skateboard without crowd involvement, our bungee sometimes snaps me back, reminding me that any blade of grass, twig, or grasshopper can absorb him, almost completely, in an instant. 

The Early Atoms @ Rendezvous' Grotto, 07/16/2011

The Early Atoms show, at the Rendezvous' Grotto, Saturday night, was solidly embedded within what seems to be their own, unique, daring, minimalist style. Daniel Tyler's wrenching cover of Lungfish's The Evidence, received with some awe, and even some deference, in this intimate space, was pared down even beyond the original. The following two tunes were instrumentals, slim, minimal, and beautiful. The first was a (roughly) seven minute acoustic guitar piece, shifting smoothly between melody, drone, and rhythmic sequences that melted and flowed into each other elegantly. The third, and last track of their too short set, juxtaposed some, at times lively, acoustic guitar playing against a low tonal soundscape created by violin and stand up base. If you want to experience something off the beaten musical track, look for their next gig.

I Call Bullshit

Electra, the Virtuous.

People are so easily convinced and conditioned that it's frightening. Far too many, today, believe that the internal combustion engine is inherently evil, and that any “alternative” power source must be a good thing. What most of these true believers ignore, is the evolution in technology that has brought gasoline burners to new heights of efficiency and cleanliness. What's worse, is that the “believers” are like zealots; instead of thinking critically, they swallow indoctrination based on half truths, and take the ideal of the cleanliness of electric power on faith.

Good grief! Power isn't created, ever; it is merely changed from one form to another. Ask some of those who would convince you of the viability of various electric cars, where the main source of electric power generation in their area comes from. There are plenty of parts of this great, big country, where coal is still king. While four cycle, gasoline burning internal combustion engines have been under continuous development for well over a century, and pollution control technologies, in those motors have enjoyed the benefit of a half century of advances, coal is still a filthy pig. Big coal, those giant contributors to political campaigns are given outs from their EPA mandated requirements. Thanks to their clout, many coal burning electric plants have been able to spew sulfur into the atmosphere at horrendous rates, by simply trading emissions credits. The way this works, is that a coal burning electrical power plants can purchase a purported gas guzzling gross polluter, and send it to the crusher. For the price of a few old cars, the coal plants are allowed to hold off on implementing the EPA's plan in terms of requiring more efficient sulfur scrubbers every few years. Most of the old cars in this silly game are no longer being used at all, but possibly for the occasional trip to the ice cream parlor, and therefore, burn , or exhaust, little to no hydrocarbons at all.

Relatively recent technologies such as computer controlled variable valve timing, and emerging technology (on a production level) like direct fuel injection, are continuing to reduce the levels of unburned hydrocarbons, and of oxides of nitrogen, the worst of the polluting byproducts of internal combustion.

Consumerist bullshit and/or bragging rights in having the newest hybrid drive vehicle help to drive sales. If people wanted to behave truly responsibly, instead, they would follow proper maintenance routines and keep their cars longer. By performing required repairs on old vehicles, people could stop kidding themselves about cost and reliability issues. In the end, proper maintenance always costs less than replacement. Additionally, think about how much energy is used, and pollution is created in the production of three our four generations of new cars. In adhering to proper upkeep regimens, we would preclude the need to produce all of these unnecessary consumer goods. Imagine the immense amount of energy that goes into manufacturing, running the plant, employees commuting to and from work, building new manufacturing plants, then add to that the harsh chemicals expelled and produced in the manufacture and use of paint, plastics, and rubber. Now try to justify, to a friend, how this is helping reduce your carbon footprint.

As a speed freak, I adore huge power to weight ratios, and the enormous power potential of electric drive is not lost on me, in fact it's something I very much look forward to enjoying. All I'm suggesting, is that we ascribe some greater value to reading the fine print, and that we take a little more pride in thinking for ourselves.

Not only is the perception of perfectly clean electric power based on wishful thinking, it's also obvious, to people who engage in the fine pastime of thinking, that infrastructure, in much of the country is not up to the demand, if we all suddenly switched to electric cars. Just ask a Californian.

In parting, let me give you one intellectual morsel to chew on. How the fuck do you plan to dispose of a few hundred pounds of lithium ion, or lead based powercells. This will be a privilege you earn every five years. Will mounds develop in your own back yard, or are you going to ensure that they get dumped in Jersey, with all the other dead hookers?