"And joining me on the accordian, a topless Miley Cyrus!"

After an extreme Passover Break for Maya's daycare (TWO WEEKS!), we're back in the regular groove as of yesterday. So I'll catch up with y'all by offering a few quickies.

We saw Dan Zanes and Friends over the weekend perform at the Moore Theatre downtown. Maya's been excited for months to soak in a live show yet again. But once we got inside, she wasn't able to deal with the noise and essentially forced Sarah to do laps around various corridors until the show ended. Which gave me some time for a few observations. In no particular order.
1. White women still continue to dance considerably better than white men, even after childbirth.
2. Aging male musicians cannot not surround themselves with increasingly younger, hotter female bandmates, no matter the genre.
3. The soundman for Dan Zanes and Friends should be sacked immediately for gross negligence (even kids can tell you generally how to mike a tap dancer or guest vocalist with a set of bongos).
4. If 3/4ths of the African Americans at the show are on-stage, and the other one is sitting across the aisle from you - you're not exactly seeing a cross-over act.
5. Concert t-shirts are cool. Dood.

On an entirely different level, I'd be remiss if I didn't pile on the Reverend Jeremiah Wright media tour of the last few days. What. A. Trainwreck. If Barack Obama had done what everyone expected and thrown Wright under the bus many many weeks ago, it would have been ugly. Instead, Obama gave what I still believe to be his greatest speech in choosing not to do so. But then the media poked and prodded this obviously egomaniacal Pastor like a caged tiger ad hominem. The result? Ladies and Gentlemen - meet this election's Willie Horton. I watched the Bill Moyers interview and went to bed thinking Rev. Wright was trying to be dignified and still help out one of his past parishioners. Then I saw the NAACP speech. Then the DC Press Club speech. Oy vey. So I must now say that I was wrong. Throw this baggage under the bus. If Obama can't bring himself to do so, he'll end up carrying this distraction around for months and months.

Hope your own baggage is surprisingly light today. Rock on.

The business end of a bowling alley. Or, actually, the non-business end.

The business end of a bowling alley. Or, actually, the non-business end.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Sunset Bowl in Ballard recently shut up shop and sold the property for $13Million. High-price condos will soon replace this beloved Seattle relic. Yesterday was the auction of all the balls and pins and detritus. I took my dad, who was visiting from Wisconsin. It was my first auction. His many hundredth. It was astonishingly insightful to walk around the back of the alleys and see what a mechanical operation a big alley represents. What follows are a few faves from a bevvy of pics.

A pin polisher, a urinal and a water heater. Sadly, only the urinal wasn't listed in the catalog.

A pin polisher, a urinal and a water heater. Sadly, only the urinal wasn't up for auction.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

If you're looking for fancy furnishings, I expect the back of an ancient bowling alley is the last place to start.

Taking pictures of people taking pictures - a personal favorite irony.

Taking pictures of people taking pictures - a personal favorite irony.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

I often irritate my wife/family/countless mistresses by taking pics of people taking pics. But in this case, this meta moment has a doppleganger out there in the Seattle mainstream media. Enjoy.

Maya and Grandpa check out the piggy bank in the Market.

Maya and Grandpa check out the piggy bank in the Market.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

I'm catching up on well over a week's worth of pics. Family in town, crazy Seattle weather, blah blah blah. Hope you have loads of shots in the can today. Rock on.

Donuts from the Daily Dozen in the Pike Street Market - you don't need to be a tourist to dig it.

Donuts from the Daily Dozen in the Pike Street Market - you don't need to be a tourist to dig it.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

"Snow! Global warming? Confusion?! Fun."

"Snow! Global warming? Confusion?! Fun."
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Maya checked out what was a wholly crazy late Spring snow cycle for Seattle. It melted. Oh, but the memories...

"Nixon rode on this thing? What a piece of crap."

"Nixon rode on this thing? What a piece of crap."
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Maya vamps in the Museum of Flight on an open display platform. I didn't get a shot of the security guards beating us into submission thereafter.

Maya vamps in the Museum of Flight on an open display platform. I didn't get a shot of the security guards beating us into submission thereafter.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Playtime snacktime with Marine, Maya's favorite school chum.

Playtime snacktime with Marine, Maya's favorite school chum.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Elephant. It's what's for dinner.

Elephant. It's what's for dinner.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

"Happy Thirtysomethingth, Mommy!"

"Happy Thirtysomethingth, Mommy!"
Originally uploaded by emaggie

Cake baking for Sarah's birthday

Cake baking for Sarah's birthday
Originally uploaded by emaggie

"The next question is a two-parter - when did you stop beating your wife AND do you think doing cocaine helped you understand your family better?"

Like most observers, I was appalled after last night's Dems debate. Obama got punked constantly, stumbling occasionally along the way. Hillary was willing to say anything, as usual. Charlie Gibson is officially now a swear word around my house. George Stephanopoulos still is. And the result? Bupkis. Big ratings, no real results. Yawn. With a sneer.

So I'm not about to focus on this whole showdown for the next few days. Sort of. Which should be easy since my parents are coming to town from Wisconsin. Please check back for some fresh pics as they get re-acquainted with Maya.

Hope your own debate analysis deals primarily with podium height today. Rock on.

Grey day, great view of downtown Minneapolis from the Walker Art Center

Grey day, great view from the Walker Art Center's tower of downtown Minneapolis.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

I hadn't visited the Walker in years and years. It's even more vital than ever. If you ever go to the Twin Cities, don't miss it. I'm glad I didn't this time out.

A totally cherry view of the downtown Minneapple from the Sculpture Garden

A totally cherry view of the downtown Minneapple from the Sculpturre Garden.
Originally uploaded by emaggie

The Rush to the ballot booth?

Without my usual prior notice to anyone checking in, we're on the road again. My apologies to the NSA for not calling. This time we're doing another couple days of work thingie for Sarah in Minnysoda. Downtown Minneapolis, to be specific. Although I was enjoyably forced to take the bus way up to Roseville this morning to get another waterproof layer at the local REI which is oddly placed in the industrial-ish hinterlands. Now I'm taking a late lunch break at ancient yet unchanged Big 10 Subs near my undergrad college campus. I think I still have a few of these greasy things stuck in my colon from the early 90s. At least this time it will be a half turkey, no mayo.

Two quickie campaign stories - USAToday does some early legwork on the surprising spike in new voter registration in the remaining Democratic Primary states. My bet? A whole bunch of Rush Limbaugh-inspired switch-overs looking to unscrupulously vote for Hillary. It ain't over folks. Well - it's actually over. Yet certain overanalyzed misdirection still lies before us. Ah, democracy. Love it or leave it.

Also, Dubya appears to be prepping to add to Mark Penn and Hillary's woes on the subject of an utterly unimportant Columbian free trade agreement. Just imagine if Bush the Elder had introduced a Columbian trade deal during his struggles to define his own still unresolved endless struggle (War on Drugs, anyone)? Dubya really has been a prick of a son. Certainly less than he has been a sonofaprick. But I digress - Mark Penn got bounced from Hillary's campaign for meeting just LAST WEEK with the Columbians. I envision him doing so at Tony Montana's disco in "Scarface" with a hooker on his lap and an aide that looks amazingly like Robert Loggia taking notes in a pile of cocaine on the glass table before them. Well, now it appears that Dubya's going to try to force Congress to vote within 90 days on his proposed deal. McCain supports, Obama doesn't, Hillary doesn't, Mark Penn makes it one of those tabloid dealiebobbers, doncha know. As I said, what a prick of a son.

Time to head onto other things. Hope your own college reunion tours today feature more foie gras, less wilted lettuce. Rock on.

When geldings attack...

Everyone's going to pile on Bill Clinton's latest not-so-private outburst, so I must join the scrum early on. According to the political columnists for the San Francisco Comical (Matier and Ross - the primary reason I occasionally got that paper when we lived there), Bubba went off amidst a gathering of superdelegates after someone cornered him on James Carville's "Judas" comment about Bill Richardson's endorsement. We've all been told for years that Bill's got quite the temper, temper. But this just sounds like Crazytown. Compare Bubba's flame with yesterday's very temperate WashingtonPost op-ed from none other than Bill Richardson. I'm sure we all can draw our own opinions, I'll nonetheless try to influence yours. So here goes.

Bill Clinton is utterly out of control. I can maybe excuse James Carville for sounding like a crazed wombat. He's a hired gun without a legitimate holster at the moment. But Bubba was Prezidunt. Even if yesterday's meeting in California wasn't as bad as what's reported, we all need to ask if we want this man anywhere near the Oval Office any longer. Don't misinterpret my motivations - I was until this campaign the biggest of big Clinton promoters/excusers. But an actual race for the hearts and minds of the Democratic Party has shown the Clintons to be worse than what their worst detractors claimed - outsized egos willing to say and burn down anything if it meant they could get seated back at the head table. It makes me sad to say/type this. But I have come to loathe Bill Clinton.

Hope your own admissions of personal change are limited to finally liking the look of your ass in the mirror today. Rock on.

Covering sleeping homeless people since 1851. Poorly, I might add.

Sunday for those of us churchless liberals is usually about one thing. Unless there's brunch. The lump of deadtree that is the Sunday NYTimes. I know, I know - I need to finally move over to the entirely electronic form of this weekly dive into the finest paper in all the land. So today, my two faves come from other online sources.

The Politico pulls some pretty petty reporting of Hillary's campaign being horrible at paying their bills. But I can't wait for the direct-mail pushback from said lackies as they run to that unseemly copy center way out in the burbs that still writes up advance work orders. Synopsis - Hillary is broke.

New York Magazine has a super-snarky throwaway piece that offers some dish on how John and Elizabeth Edwards feel about the lobbying for their endorsements. Synopsis - Hillary's been very professional, Obama's been a bit of a dick.

As a bonus, here's one half-hearted shout out to the NYTimes for a Sunday Styles piece on the inherent connectivity between Brooklyn and the East Bay. I don't buy the synopsis for a second (they are inextricably connected by some sort of culture warp) since almost as much time is spent talking crap about things miles away from the East Bay. Kinda like saying Staten Island and Milwaukee are one in the same and spending half your time ordering at The Brat Stop in Kenosha. Yet one of my personal faves - the Mollusk Surf Shop in the Outer Sunset of San Francisco - gets a big blurb. I love the Mollusk (best t-shirts in California). So, weirdly...whoo-hoo.

Hope your don't lose an unread section in an unfortunate French Toast spill today. Rock on.

Aloof Goofs Spoof for Boof!

Baseball. The Major League kind. Can you smell it? Ah, it's fresh. Namely, our Nation's beloved Milwaukee Brewers kick off their pennant run with an opener at Wrigley Field on Monday. Many questions remain for the Brew Crew - who will round out their starting piching rotation, will Rickie Weeks finally show up at the plate, will Mike Cameron's 25-game suspension for banned steroids cause his balls to shrink even more, is there any expected end to the lingering winter back yonder? But I think we all can find reason for excited optimism at the foreseen onset of our respective Opening Days. Even though it's currently snowing outside here in Seattle, at least it's not snowing inside. That would suck. So here's to a fine Season for all. Including my new favorite non-Brewer - Boof Bonser.


Said Boof is a pitcher who's been burdened with the nickname "Boof" since early childhood. Yet he legally changed his name from John Paul to Boof. Not surprisingly, he's a Minnesota Twin. He's chubby. He's probably a dick. But I love love LOVE the name. Here's to you, Boof. May the Brewers beat you in Game 7 of the World Series on a surprising goof that in no way diminishes your Cy Young winning year.

Hope your own delusional self-regard prevents you from changing your name to "Dudemeister" today. Rock on.