Still working on the paper. Trying to work out some final conceptual details related to Bush v. Gore, New Mexico, and Minnesota. Metro was oddly full this morning. Almost no one got out at Metro Center, which was strange.
Metro didn't suck this morning, although the new cars are a little weird. Bought a bup of coffee and a pack of gum made in Australia. Serving size: 1 gum.
Back to the paper. Paying attention to Coleman v. Franken this morning. Looks like the Court has killed Coleman's Bush v. Gore claims. Turns out, it might all be about process and not standards. Interesting turn of events.
I had only about two hours worth of sleep last night and I'm only awake now because I want to write this all down before I start forgetting it. I am sure that I will crash pretty soon and sleep a long time, but I hope I can get this out first.
In the past few days, I have volunteered for the Obama Campaign in Northern Virginia. On Saturday, Shirley, Kevin, and I knocked on doors in order to contact voters and convince them to vote. We were given packs with names of voters who were identified as sporadic voters--meaning that they were registered Democrats who had voted in only a few of the most recent elections. Our goal was to knock on their door, make some human contact, and talk to them about Barack Obama. We got started at about 10 in the morning and worked something like 120-150 doors, finishing up in the early evening. Shirley and I did the same thing on Sunday, working for about four hours.
Shirley and I planned to do get out the vote work for the campaign on Election Day, and so I tried to plan ahead the night before. I bought some water and granola bars, and a new umbrella because it was supposed to rain. I picked Shirley up at the East Falls Church metro station at about 8:30 in the morning and we went straight to the staging location for the GOTV work. What they wanted us to do was very simlar to the work we had done over the weekend. We were given a packet with names and addresses of likely Obama voters, and we were to knock on their door, ask if they had voted, tell them how to get to their polling place, and, if necessary, help them get a ride to the polls. Then we were to do it again with the same list before going back to get a different packet.
The first packet was in a fairly typical middle class neighborhood. The polling location was an elementary school within walking distance of every door we knocked on. The houses in the neighborhood were strange. It was obviously an older development put together by a single builder. All the homes were similar rectangular boxes with an overhanging second story above the front door and a roofline that sloped away from the front of the house. Square and angluar. The houses were also set at odd angles to the street. Very few were perfectly square to the street--several were set at 30, 60, and 90 degrees to the street.
About a third of the voters we were told to contact had already voted. We marked them off the list. If someone wasn't home, we left a door hanger with the address for the polling place at the elementary school. If they were home, we told them to go vote, and that the middle of the day was a good time because lines were short. I spoke with a 72 year old woman named Sima who had already voted, a 30 year old black man who said he was on his way, and a 52 year old white woman named Constance who also promised she was about to go.
On the second pass, Shirley and I switched houses so that we wouldn't talk to the same people twice. We didn't need to speak to Sima again. The 30 year old again promised he was about to go, but wondered to Shirley if this constituted harrassment. This became another tool for the day. When we got to our second packet, I started telling people who were home that if they didn't go vote, we would just keep knocking on their door. Shirley spoke to Constance on the second pass, and about a minute after leaving the front porch, Constance left her house to walk up to the school and vote.
Our second packet was in a group of rental townhouses. The complex was horribly confusing because the houses weren't numbered sequentially. Houses set in a row would randomly jump 10 numbers. But we got back to business knocking on doors. A lot of people weren't home--at work certainly--and they got the door hanger. But I still spoke with several people who were going to vote later in the day. There was a woman who had already voted, another who was asleep (according to her granddaughter who answered the door), and a woman who was voting for McCain (according to the shirtless man who answered the door).
But there was also a man named Joseph who had just two months ago received his citizenship. He registered to vote at the same time, but he was concerned that he wouldn't be able to vote because he changed his name on his citizenship papers. He was worried that his name wouldn't match the name in the voter registration list. I told him to take his citizenship papers with him when he went to vote and that he would be able to cast a provisional ballot in any case. On the second pass, he had put an "I Voted" sticker on his front door--probably to keep us from knocking again.
And there was a family of Muslim immigrants--two women answered the door, both covered. One told Shirley that the family was going to vote in the afternoon when the father came home. And two brothers named Hernandez who weren't there on the second pass. Hopefully, they had gone to vote. This fairly well established the pattern for the day. We were largely speaking with immigrants and lower class and lower middle class voters. It seemed to be effective.
Over the course of the day, we did 5 or 6 packets. One was in some very cheap apartments, and one was in some very nice townhouses. The process was the same everywhere we went. Around 12:30, we stopped back at the staging area to get a new packet and were offered lunch. I had a "sandwich" made of three slices of cheese between two slices of bread. The sandwich, the granola bars, and the tootsie pops at the staging area kept me going through the day.
For what it's worth, "staging area" makes it sound much more formal that it was. The staging area was just a local Democrat's house. I learned later in the evening that his first name was Spence, but throughout the day, Shirley and I were just trapsing in and out of his house freely without really having met him before. Spence is a middle aged white guy who married a Japanese woman. Their house was set off a major road in a heavily wooded neighborhood of large old houses. The trees in the neighborhood were bright yellow and red and orange. Spence's house was decorated with traditional Japanese paintings and an ancient set of the Encyclopedia Britannica.
At the house, Spence was assisted by a woman named Sarah with wavy blonde hair and another woman with short dark hair. Sarah had taken two weeks vacation in order to volunteer for the campaign but wasn't going to be to make it back to her D.C. apartment in time to cast her absentee ballot. (It was ok--Obama won D.C. with 92% of the vote) The other woman hadn't slept in two days. They kept it running though.
During our lunch, we spoke with a retired teacher who was doing his own best to help elect Obama. He was a large man--at least six foot five, and with white hair. But other than the hair, he was very youthful. He told us that about a third of his union was for McCain, and that a lot of kids were home because Virginia schools always take the first Monday and Tuesday in November off in order to allow teachers to catch up on grading and to hold parent-teacher conferences.
At about 4 p.m. Shirley and I were both feeling a little frustrated. The number of contacts you make doing this sort of door-to-door knocking is actually relatively low since many people are working during the day and others simply want you to go away. So, we asked Spence where we could get a quick beer. He recommended a nearby biker bar called the Sunset Grille, and that's where we went.
It was a small bar--just four or five tables, the bar, and a small platform for bands to play on. There were two guys talking football inside the door and another couple sidled close to the bar and sitting quietly. Two women were serving beers. We sat at the corner of the bar and ordered a couple Yuengling Lagers. There was a short menu written on a board on the wall. Ribs and something with crab and stuffed jalapenos. Stickers on the bar complained of Jane Fonda's treason. The jukebox played Jethro Tull and The Grateful Dead and Tom Petty.
The other people at the bar talked about voting. Two of the men had "I voted" stickers on their chest. One of the bartenders said how she loved voting; that it made her feel powerful, and she flexed her arms as she did this. She said she voted at the high school she attended.
After our last packet, we were supposed to go to a precinct and see if we could help hand out snacks and drinks to people in line. It was going to be dark and so they gave us little flashlights. We headed back to the confusing townhouses we hit on our second packet. It wasn't the same set of houses, but it was still confusing. We did one pass, and since it was getting later, we waited for 20 minutes before doing our second pass hoping that some people would come home from work. We did our last pass at 6 pm, an hour before the polls closed, but nothing had changed.
It was now dark and misting. It had rained some during the day, but not enough to keep anyone from going to the polls. We drove to Jefferson High School--the polling location for our last packet. I got lost on the way, but after driving around a bit, we found it. We walked up to see if they needed any help, but there wasn't any line. The Democratic Precinct Captain was handing out sample ballots to voters who were intermittently straggling in. Every time someone took one, the Republican precinct captain would rush over and offer a Republican sample ballot.
They didn't need our help, so we tried to contact Sarah and then the campaign office. Eventually we were told there weren't any lines anywhere, and so we could either go randomly knock on doors or go home. We had already planned to go to some friends' house in order to watch the returns so we stopped at Popeyes for a quick dinner and at Giant for some beer and champagne.
We were going to a house where several people live. Most of them are former Peace Corps volunteers whom we sort of accidentally met a few weeks back. One of them is a friend of a friend of Shirley. A few weeks back we went apple picking with them and had a good day. At the house were Conor, Maeve, Josh, Paulo, John, and a few other people whose names I can't recall. Shirley and I brought in the beer but left the champagne in the car so as not to jinx the election.
Maeve had planned games including a Jeopardy style quiz and pin the lipstick on the pitbull. My team lost Jeopardy narrowly even though we gave correct answers--it was stolen. Conor and Josh cheated at pin the tail on the pitbull. We drank a little and watched the returns come in.
On the ride to the house, Shirley and I were listening to NPR's coverage and the reporter at the Republican watch party in Ohio was not impressed. She noted that it couldn't really be called a party since no one was there, and that the Republicans weren't expecting to win the state based on the early returns and the exit polls. Sure enough within an hour of us arriving at Maeve's house, the networks called Ohio for Obama. That pretty much sealed the election, but of course it's not over until someone reaches 270.
By 10:30, they had called Virginia for Obama, giving him a total of 220 electoral votes. Fox News seemed to be calling everything earlier than the other channels. With 220 EVs, the game was pretty much over. Shirley and I retrieved the champagne from the car. I went out in my socks because I couldn't get my shoes on fast enough. The ground was wet and when we came back in, I had to take my socks off.
The champagne was sneakily put in the fridge, but 11 pm was coming up and with it the closure of the polls on the West coast. We could see what was coming. NBC ran a countdown to the next poll closings, and we started shouting the seconds out: 10! 9! 8! . . . With California, Washington, and Oregon immediately being called for Obama, he was up to 297 electoral votes and the game was over. NBC's coverage simply went immediately to the projection that Barack Obama would be elected president without even mentioning CA, WA, and OR. We cheered. People hugged and jumped and screamed. I popped the cork on the champagne and poured some for everyone. We toasted and drank.
Outside there were fireworks a couple blocks over. We went outside to look and listen. In the distance to the south we could hear faint cheering. NBC had given some time to the local affiliate who showed video of people dancing at 14th and U--on the sidewalk and on top of a bus stop shelter. They should video of the growing crowd at the White House. That was the place to be, and we gathered our coats and shoes. Before we could leave, McCain came to the stage to give his concession speech. We all stood silently and listened to him graciously admit defeat.
We started at roughly 10th St. NW and Monroe Ave NW. The walk to the White House would end up being 2.5 miles. As we walked South, there was intermittent cheering and some cars honking their horns. At 14th and U, hundreds of people were in the street. The police began to cut car traffic off between 14th and 16th. We got there just before Obama took the stage in Chicago. We stood outside a bar and watched a TV that had been turned outward. We couldn't hear anything, but the closed captioning was turned on.
As Obama was speaking, it began to rain. The first real heavy rain of the day. Some in the crowd had umbrellas, but I had left mine in the car. We were all drenched, but we still watched and cheered. The rain glowed orange in the streetlights as it fell on us.
After the speech, we continued South on 16th street. For a while we walked with a man and talked a little about what this win was going to mean. Barack made the point: this is a chance to make a difference, and it's not over yet. There is a lot of work to be done. More and more people were going south--all towards the White House. We met another large group at Rhode Island Avenue. A man ran up to Shirley and me and gave us a bear hug. He exclaimed, "You're wet!"
More and more people. Some with Obama signs. Some with hats and shirts. More and more cars honking their horns. Constant cheers from the marchers. Some chants of "Yes we can!" and "O-ba-ma!" Our route took us past the Republican National Committee Headquarters. Some apparent Republicans stood outside dejected. At one point, a man with the flag tied around his neck like a cape rode by on a bicycle.
At Lafayette Square, there was a fence and barrier keeping people from crowding directly south onto Pennsylvania Avenue. It's not clear if that barrier was part of a construction project or was put up by the police to control the crowd. In order to get around in front of the White House, we had to walk around to the side. The crowd was amazing. Happy and excited. Nothing angry. Nothing violent. Just joyous and celebrating.
One group of people was involved in a call and response of "Whose house?" "Obama's House!" And the standard goodbye chants. Shirley said she heard people chanting "Move Bush, get out the way. Get out the way, Bush, get out the way!" (Think Ludacris if you don't catch the rhythm) I saw some people singing American the Beautiful. Mostly people chanted "O-ba-ma!" and "Yes we can!" and the now appropriate "Yes we did!" One woman was giving "Obama hugs" to everyone she saw.
After a while, Shirley and I began the 2.5 mile trek back to my car which I had left at Maeve's house. We had lost everyone else at this point, but it didn't matter. Everyone in the area was cheering and chanting and screaming. People walked in the street and hung out of cars. High-fives were ubiquitous.
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Saturday. Didn't make it to the end before I had to stop.
On our way back to the car, a man with a slight European accent walked beside us for some time. I couldn't really place his accent, but we talked about the inauguration. He expressed some fear that Obama might not make it that far--that he might be assassinated. I really don't think that is going to happen. I'm not afraid of that. I'm not afraid of much right now. He talked about Bush's inauguration, and how the inauguration is as much for the incoming president as it is for the outgoing president. He said that in 2000, the commentators and pundits summed up Clinton's presidency as good but not great; that there had been so much promise at the start of Clinton's terms and he never really lived up to the expectations. He wonders what could possibly be said about Bush's terms in office as he leaves?
We continued our trek back to the car with less celebrations we got farther north. Fewer and fewer horns. At one point, four men on the other side of the street were spontaneously stepping.
I drove Shirley home and we listened to coverage from NPR and the BBC on WAMU. When we left the house to walk to the White House, we knew that Obama had 333 EVs--Florida had been called, but that was all. The radio wasn't giving any more details about states; just talking about how he won and what it meant. It was a little frustrating.
After dropping Shirley off, I drove home, and got back at about 3:30 am. I parked my car outside because I lost my card for the garage. Walking back to my building, my legs had already started to stiffen up. I hobbled along. Inside I read some more news and tried to reset my alarm for 8 am so I could sleep in a bit. It was about this time that I noticed my shoes are now different colors. They were the same color at the start of the day, but not anymore. They're not wet. They're not dirty. Just different colors.
It didn't work. My alarm woke me up at 6. And I got up. I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep. So, I cleaned up and went down to Starbucks for a coffee and some breakfast. I bought a copy of the Times and the Post. I'm glad I did. Later in the day, every paper in the city was sold out.
The entire day I was physically exhausted, but it wasn't a bad thing. There is a pleasure that comes with exhaustion. It removes a lot of concerns and worries and leaves me with a feeling of balance and confidence.
Hulu has a surprising mix of movies and television shows. Some of them are clearly old films that don't have a valuable copyright. See, for example, The People that Time Forgot. However, some are rather strong movies that are still available on DVD, and that are still making money for studios. The decision to distribute Sideways for free on the internet is a strange one. Then there are things like Species III, all alone without Species or Species II. On the good side of things, there is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Requiem for a Dream, and Lost in Translation. I have been watching some of these movies on Hulu, and I will be writing them up as I watch them. Today, I watched 28 Days Later.
In 28 Days Later, England is destroyed by a highly contagious virus unknowingly unleashed from a government laboratory by animal rights activists trying to save the chimpanzees in which it originated. Within a few seconds of infection, and victim becomes highly aggressive and attacks anyone nearby. That is merely the premise, however, as the action follows Jim (Cillian Murphy), a man who has been in a coma for the titular four weeks. He wakes up in a hospital and wanders a desolate London before being attacked by the infected, and saved by hardened zombie-fighter Selena (Naomie Harris).
Selena and Jim eventually meet up with Frank (Brendan Gleeson) and his daughter Hannah (Megan Burns). The four travel together to Manchester following a weak radio signal promising salvation from the infection. The supposed salvation comes in the form of a squad of soldiers trying to reestablish society within the walls of a fortified manor house. Led by a Major played by Christopher Eccleston, the soldiers offer sanctuary to the survivors, but, of course, they are not as safe as they think.
28 Days Later opened in 2002 to strong critical reviews, but I have largely avoided it because of it's a zombie movie. I can handle some zombie movies, but its one of those premises that can get tired after a while. I have no idea why people are still telling vampire stories. I find that 28 Days Later deserves the praise it has received.
It is very well shot. This clearly isn't a B movie or a second rate production in any noticeable way. The filmmakers have made excellent use of the English countryside in their story about the collapse of civilization. The place of nature is a repeated theme throughout the film. From the beginning where animal rights activists accidentally trigger the worst human tragedy, to the loving shots of England's green fields as the four survivors escape London, to a debate among the soldiers at the manor house. One soldier maintains that given the shortness of human history, if the infection were to wipe humans from the earth, that would be a return to normal. Another maintains that since human history is filled with people killing people, the situation they find themselves in is normal.
Not everything is perfect--Selena the hardened zombie fighter is a little too hardened, but of course she softens up through the course of the movie. Harris's performance is probably the biggest weakness in the movie. Gleeson is an excellent character actor who is great in everything, and should be put to work as much as possible. Cillian Murphy is another fairly strong actor, and he keeps turning up in movies that I really like such as Batman Begins and Sunshine. Eccleston is fun to watch as well. The former Dr. Who star doesn't have to do anything special in the role, but he still gives a strong performance.
Overall, the movie is well made and tightly plotted. It pays homage to other zombie movies in subtle ways such as the apartment block in which Frank and Hannah are surviving which echoes The Omega Man and a night attack by the infected on the manor house which alludes to the classic Night of the Living Dead. After establishing the premise, the film shines in the second and third acts where it takes on some deeper themes.
This isn't a perfect film, but it accomplishes what it sets out to do, and I would reccomend it.
The TV season is starting again, and that means new TV! Last night Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles season opened with a a pretty decent episode. A decent episode for explicitly bad television. This is a show that I like in spite of itself. Somehow they make mindless fun work. This is what Knight Rider will try to do but will completely fail to accomplish.
This season opens with the aftermath of Cameron's car bomb and the FBI assault on Chromartie's apartment. As the last season closed, Sarah, John, and Cameron were trying to retrieve the Turk, a chess computer that will eventually develop into SkyNet. The man who has the Turk put a bomb in Sarah's Jeep in order to kill her but ended up hitting Cameron instead. Cameron is damaged and reverts to her standard terminator programming: Kill John Connnor. This provides most of the action for the episode as Cameron chases John and Sarah across the city.
At the end of the last season, the FBI had tracked down Chromartie and broke into his apartment only to be slaughtered. The FBI agent (I'll really have to try to remember his name) is left alive and spends the rest of the episode lying to his superiors about what happened. Meanwhile EMT Guy (also don't recall his name) and the guy from 90210 meet up to try to chase down Sarah and John. The biggest development, though, was Shirley Manson as a T-1000 who is running a company that is developing technology that will become the terminators.
Towards the end of the episode, Cameron is squished between two trucks and she resets to normal--that is she decides not to kill John. And thus the season begins with our plucky group of robots, teenagers, freedom fighters from the future set to do battle with Shirley Manson.
Couple things:
The cold open was cool as hell. Has any show ever done anything like that before? It was a solid 3-4 minutes without dialogue. Just visual story telling with a sort of metal soundtrack. The photography wasn't amazing by any means, but it was effective, and it struck me as an innovative way to start the season. It also had a nice symmetry with the final scene from last season with the FBI going after Chromartie.
In Shirley Manson's first scene, it seemed like she was trying to do an American accent. It went away in the rest of her scenes, and it needs to stay gone. I don't think she has the acting skills necessary to do an accent consistently. So, letting her speak naturally will improve her performance and give her character a little more depth.
Buuut, she was playing a T-1000 that likes to hang out in mens' rooms disguised as a urinal. What? Yes. Couldn't she have been a trashcan? And if your staff is small and overworked, would you really want to kill one of them? These robots need to work on their personnel management skills. Step 1. Don't hide in the bathroom. Step 2. Don't kill your staff.
Also, she's a terminator who has come back in time to make sure that future terminators are built. This raises a TON of time travel contradictions, but the most glaring is that it proves that any attempt to stop the creation of terminators is futile since she couldn't come back in time if they weren't built eventually.
More importantly, I started to wonder if this development was at odds with the theme of the original movie. Although it's about killer robots from the future, it really was a movie of it's time. In the original movie (and the second one), it was the government's search for security from external threats and mutually assured destruction that lead to the creation of SkyNet and the end of the world. Without the Soviet Union, why is the government building SkyNet? And shouldn't government scientists be involved in this and not some shadowy private company?
Anyway, better forget all that before next Monday.
A couple weeks ago, I ran across this book at Borders. As its title indicates, it is a military history of the Iraq war. I have thought about buying it since I think it would interesting to know what the actual strategy was for the war. We pretty much kicked ass in the actual war--it was the aftermath that was a complete mess.
In any case, I flipped through the book and came across this image:
This is a stunning picture. I stopped flipping and stared at it for several moments. It is a picture of a bomb damage assessment being performed on an Iraqi building targeted by the US Air Force during the war. The building was hit with a 5000 pound bomb which penetrated the roof and ceiling and exploded inside. In the bottom right corner is a soldier assessing the damage caused by the bomb.
According to the book, with weapons such as the one used on this building, assessing damage was difficult from the air since the exterior of some buildings did not show much damage. That is why ground teams were sent to targets to report on the damage.
I want to contrast that image with this one:
This is the interior of the Pantheon in Rome. The Pantheon was built in 125 A.D. under Hadrian. It was built as a temple for all the gods, hence pan + theo. It has been in continuous use since it was built, and was converted to a Catholic church in the 7th century. For the first 1200 years of its existence, the Pantheon was the largest masonry dome in the world. It is a masterpiece of architecture and one of the great buildings of the world.
I will leave you to consider the comparison between these two pictures and these two buildings, but I would like to say that we have choices available to us in this world.
This week, Obama has refocused his campaign here at home after a successful overseas trip. The big story has been the McCain campaign's attempt to attack Obama for . . . having a successful overseas trip. So, they started running two new ads, one attacking Obama for cancelling a trip to a military hospital in Germany, and the other accusing Obama of being like Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. This second ad is backed by ongoing complaints that the media has been nice to Obama.
This is all very Ferris Bueller. Remember at the end of the Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Jeanie is sitting in the police station. Principal Rooney in a mad attempt to catch Ferris playing hooky has broken into the Bueller's home. Jeanie, with the same mad goal, has attacked him. She's sitting in the police station where she gets some sage advice from a young Charlie Sheen:
Jeanie: I went home to confirm that the shithead was ditching school and a guy broke into the house and I called the cops and they picked me up for making a phony phone call.
Charlie: What do you care if your brother ditches school?
Jeanie: Why should he get to ditch school when everyone else has to go?
Charlie: You could ditch.
Jeanie: I'd get caught.
Charlie: So, you're pissed at him because he ditches and doesn't get caught?
Jeanie: Basically.
Charlie: Then your problem is you.
Jeanie: Excuse me?
Charlie: Excuse you. You oughta spend a little more time dealing with yourself and a little less time worrying about what your brother does. It's just an opinion. . . . There's someone you should talk to.
Jeanie: If you say Ferris Bueller, you lose a testicle.
Charlie: Oh, you know him?
John McCain is Jeanie--she's pissed that Ferris is so popular--he's everyone's friend, even the druggie sitting in the police station. She's pissed that Ferris ditches school, but Ferris doesn't just ditch school, he ditches with style.
Ferris joy rides in a classic Ferrari, talks his way into an upscale restaurant, goes to a Cubs game, and does spontaneous renditions of "Danke Schoen" and "Twist and Shout" with adoring crowds happily joining in.
Sure, who wouldn't be jealous? But in an election, you want to be popular. You don't want to have to argue that being popular is bad. John McCain would happily speak before 200,000 people in Berlin. But 200,000 people wouldn't turn out for John McCain. John McCain's problem isn't that Barack Obama is popular--John McCain's problem is John McCain.
