Friday, February 28, 2014
The Take Arizona's Super Bowl Hostage Committee has brought on Raymond Chandler, author of the detective novel, "The Big Sleep," as its chief investigator. The investigation didn't take long. No longer, that is, than that point in almost every episode of "Law and Order" when the detectives, after nosing around the streets of New York City knock over every seedy joint and newsy and drug addict for information decide to do a web search to find all of the missing clues they need to instantly find enough to prosecute the case.
In this case, all clues lead to the Cathi Herrod of the right-wing group, The Center for Arizona Policy ...
"Sounds pretty innocuous," stated the late mystery novelist, "but in the river of shit that knows no sleep, you can smell this one from here to Uganda. With a last name like that, no wonder this poor woman has some real religious hang-ups."
With that, Chandler returned to his eternal big sleep in a puff of pipe smoke.
Chief spokesperson for the committee to further pursue the members of Arizona's legislature who brought Arizona's poor civil rights image back to the forehead of the international zeitgeist, the late author James Joyce, said he was pleased that Chandler's investigation was as inexpensive as it was, and thanked Chandler for his contribution to the literary tradition of the crime novel noir.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
James Joyce appointed
to Take Arizona's Super Bowl
In a stream of consciousness decision, the early 20th century author, James Joyce, has been appointed to the recently formed pirate organization intended to host the next Super Bowl in Arizona, if we ever get around to that ... According to Joyce ...
"Though my efforts may seem dead to the dumbed-down world, and my book, Ulysses, was once seized for being obscene by authorities in New York state, things have calmed down quite a bit since then ... personally ... and more recently I have become more of a sports fan .... Because the state of Arizona, which doesn't even tolerate daylight savings, and is therefore unaware of what the time is, or even what century it is, I felt like it was a good time to become an apparition to haunt the state of Arizona, although, as I recall, I didn't go in much for the rampant spiritualism when I was alive, although, in more recent years, I had become a big fan of Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung after my wake ... Now, my main mission as member of this newly formed committee is to make harsh judgment on Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer for allowing reactionaries to let the state burn while she churned about, quite lavishly, and perhaps a little hung over without having the usual bloody Mary in the morning, in order to function as the state's incredibly malfunctioning leader, to ask one fashionable question posed these days to politicians with something to hide, and who nevertheless stand to profit, in terms of the current polarities brewing, regarding what might be the benefit to herself, as governor considering, even while Arizona burns as an international laughing stock, the musical question: When and where was she when the state legislature was coming up with S.B. 1062 such nonsense in the first place, and why she waited so long to veto it, rather than further embarrass the citizens of this southwestern alcove of phantasmagorical odyssey ... as time fades away since the cursed event?
Since it has become unfathomably weird whenever the legislature is gathering to come up with such dumb stuff all of the time, and needs to be watched (no, babysat) closely, and Brewer is a politician who should have known in advance about what was, well, brewing for the Brewster and her party, it's hard to believe she needed to deliberate much about what already is regarded as unnecessary ... since the U.S. government already has guaranteed free speech with regards to freedom of religion ... it's hard to imagine how this dead man walking S.B. 1062 bill couldn't have been headed off at the pass, as you cowboy, gun-toting Yanks like to call it, without damaging the state's reputation as it already has been ... unless,, of course, it likes that distinction ...
Now, other states have been enacting, or trying to enact stuff like this, too, but Arizona is uniquely branded as a hot bed for this kind of baffoonery, and the mythic clock of the small leading the larger, ever-outwinding tick-tocks of the world seem to find this desert wasteland uncommonly amusing ... Indeed, the silliness is quite the gift that keeps on giving for whatever liberals the arid zone already has ... from the MLK Day debacle in the early 1990s, to the botched debate over racial profiling more recently, and a lot of other perverse lawmaking that only rural areas in far flung Arab lands tend to circulate ... So, I ask again: Where were you governor, and what did you know about this, and why didn't you just stamp it out before things got clearly out of hand?
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Folks, if you are sports fan, you have been hosted to a number of fantastic events in recent days, such as the Super Bowl, then, a little after that, the Sochi Winter Olympic Games, hosted by world leader, the Russian dictator Vladimir Putin, and attended by a bunch of media people, as well as those who can afford to buy tickets for such things, and, of course, the athletes themselves, an international herd of gravity game neophytes and wannabe glamsters on skates and skis and snowboards, all going for the gold, except for one person who had the nerve to leave the scene because she, a Ukranian athlete, Adelina Sotnikova, couldn't stomach the revelry knowing a violent revolution was going on back home.
Which is a shame, of course ... too bad there isn't a medal for that.
Next year, Arizona will host the Super Bowl. Dunno what the Roman numeral for it but No. 49 going to be a big one. The state's governor, Jan Brewer, is expected to veto the controversial S.B. 1062 bill, according to reports. That, leaves, as default, the entire state's Republican-led legislature, to serve as the next official choice to host as a kind of mob representative responsible for the debacle. That is the same group of politicians who passed S,B. 1062, which would, if signed into law, allow any business to refuse service to anyone they please based on their own intolerant, biased, pig-headed religious beliefs.
Most likely, many of these same people will be in attendance for the event in Glendale, conveniently located between the city of Phoenix and the Pacific ocean. Like Sochi, it is also in a war zone, as well as a host for a great many gun shows ... something I happened to notice on the Phoenix television news broadcasts, and Miami Dolphins lineman Richie Incognito is from there, as well. So is Jan Brewer. That is where she got her degree for a radiology career, which was what she did before she became a politician.
Now, as I still sit here so seasick from the things I have just mentioned and more, I must argue that I, as a resident taxpaying citizen of Arizona, have a share in all of this, which makes me, at least, a host in portions.
Which gives me the right to declare, yes, that I am now taking the Super Bowl in Arizona next year, well, hostage, pirate style. Aye!
Search here soon for upcoming arrangements, events, and so on. For example, I'm thinking of dictating that the game will be between the Denver Broncos and Pittsburgh Pirates (I know, I know, the Pittsburgh Pirates consists of baseball players), but that's the best way to ensure the game will be a blowout by a 44-0 score ... and that the game will be over a few seconds after the first play, just like this year's game. More to come as events unfold.
Monday, December 23, 2013
You hear them gunning up outside your wall, the early morning engine warming F-150 crowd, gushing the carbon footprint into your nostrils, and you feel your tragic gift for technological intolerance to warm up, right along with the invisible drone of their new, hah, "Ecoboost" engines. But you, like Sherman Alexie, the Native American writer, take the following tact to the vision: Just close your eyes and maybe it will all go away. And so then, there you are, in the post-apocalyptic dream of the real America, and the clouds break, the sunlight hits your windows. You are now alive, if wide awake, in the continental dream, and you've got to get outside the whitewalls fast or you will go mad.
You are in Walmart world, Wally World, the Disney land of the walking dead. Your head is running fast from the echoes of the crazed Craig Ferguson is echoing in your head, a mad Scottish King roaring with laughter and insanity, but the body is still is moving slow. In the dream within the dream. You are the subplot, sure. Much smaller than you can possibly comprehend, but a hero on your own time. Time to get out and shop, drink eat or feed. And if there's one damn thing you are going to do it's this: You are going to spend local. You will not feed the Box Box. Big Pharma. Big Anything. You want to find some island of Mom-and-pop-ville to drop your daily dime. This is victory. Defiance. Success for the ninety nine percent now, and you want it now.
In Flagstaff, Arizona, you have a number of choices in this category. Cheap regions of town unmarked by the daily beasts of the corporate Big Box, meganational this, the this and thats of the invisible borders of the nation now trampled by the unloving capitalist greed dogs slurping up every borderline, which were always just theories backed by gunpowder, the gun, carved up by the colonializing powers of a bygone age, anyway. But today our lottery pick is the number seven. Which means Route 7 of the Mountain Line. You are the professional pedestrian, or the radical bicycle time racer, too. You will not accomodate the zombie technocrats of smog covering the Earth in any way shape or form.
But you are still, a consumer. Not a citizen so much. Not in this country. That is not what "they" call us. Not citizen this, comrade that. There's nothing to vote for today. You just get up, and to avoid going WTF all day, you must choose. And that's Route 7, lucky boys and girls! You get to ride on what's now regarded as the best small town bus line in the nation, as chosen by a panel of experts; whatever that means ... Continue ...
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Welcome to the "Rat Farm." Eat. Drink. Lack all motivation. Be merry, greedy even.
The Arizona-bred godfather time ghost of both grunge and acid-rock has risen, and is touring the Western United States.
"Hallelujah, I'm rotten to the core, and I take what I want, then take a little more," sing the Meat Puppets now, back again with new songs and a four-piece format. The Meat Puppet nation continues to crawl as a cult following moves further toward critical mass with an international tour including the lead guitarist's son, Elmo Kirkwood, also on the axes to add a renewed youthful exuberance.
This is a family affair when the band plays on stage. With bassist, Cris Kirkwood, the only person on stage not named Kirkwood will be drummer Shandon Sahm.
New tracks such as "Gotta Leave Your Head Alone" and "Time and Money," include Elmo playing the chords, with his dad, guitarist and singer Curt Kirkwood, providing the arching riffs. These are the sort of tunes in need of theatrical space to be heard properly.
As in many of the supposedly simple tunes in which the guitar interplay becomes the main event, a sonic majesty gets created, and the original tracks are just a launching point.
Classic rock chord interplay also is key in "Again," with Kirkwood's riffs flying high. The new songs are catchy and anthemic. Each track follows a pattern where the songwriter is willing to meet the listener halfway, which is what made the band's biggest hit, "Backwater," a success.
Excellently paced, the staccato crossing of sonic swords leads to an eventual all-out jam by Kirkwood for one of the finest acid-folk-punk riff-outs ever put on a Meat Puppets recording. Such moments are short and sweet, yes, on the record, but a minute or more of that on the stage, and the world just might obey their call to party. On the record, sure enough, the listener may be wanting for more, but that's show business, folks.
"The records are just the calling cards," Kirkwood says during a telephone interview from his home in Austin, Texas, where on this day he remarks that it's raining like hell. "We have always had trouble capturing on the albums what we can do live."
He is low key, soft-spoken, sounding a little low-pressurized, sunlight deprived. He is in between shows, he says, trying to catch up on domestic matters that have "fallen behind." He says the band has just received a request to play at a protest of National Security Agency surveillance in Washington D.C., but it appears the tour schedule won't allow it. News that the late Kurt Cobain will be inducted into the Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame is met with a kind of sad, awkward can't-really-go-there silence. Kirkwood says the Meat Puppets were also recently invited to play at the museum in Cleveland, but again, the heavy touring has made it impossible.
But if the band keeps spinning around the world with epic, inexhaustive tours and albums as insinuatingly engaging as "Rat Farm," eventual Hall-of-Fame-hood will no doubt be part of the icing on the psychedelic cake, especially when the band's obvious influence on and personal connection to Cobain and Nirvana are taken into consideration.
On the lyrical side, Kirkwood's core ethic of the elemental natural order of things remains. Topics range from animal greed to well-practiced artistic ambivalance. The effect is laid back, not in a rush, timeless. When it does head toward the outer limits with a jam, it stops suddenly, teasing the listener for more of that all out '81 Les Paul guitar, a reissue from the late 1950s model, purchased about three decades ago as a "slightly used" relic at Bizarre Guitar in Phoenix, around the time songs for the album, "Up on the Sun," were being written and recorded in 1985. The original model for the guitar would be, if the 54-year-old Kirkwood owned one, as old as he is.
On the "Rat Farm" track "Waiting," you run across the patented splooge of Kirkwood's love for the country music riff and the happy-go-lucky, nursery rhyme dreaminess of the lyrics and the Spanish, southwestern style on the strings.
One might wonder if the title track for the new record carries some social or political significance. It seems to be about gnawing, senseless greed. However, it's more down to earth than that.
"It's a song about my house," he says. "It's a mess. In this part of Texas, it's like a jungle, where there are a lot of rats and snakes. They like to get in my garage and chew on things."
The track "Time and Money," deals with not getting sucked into the business side of the music industry, "about what most stuff is all about, what's always been talked about, what the motivation for most people is."
The Meat Puppets began their long strange trip together in 1980, forming as a trio with drummer Derrick Bostrom, an intellectual, contrarian sort from Paradise Valley, who liked to stun teasing jocks at Chaparral High School with bits of Unitarian wisdom while quoting lyrics from prog-rock bands. The group began to get notice with the eccentric, spontaneous "Meat Puppets II," which is now considered an indie classic, and originally got a big boost when it received a rave from REM's guitarist, Peter Buck.
After a series of uneven recordings and many years of shows which often left listeners in a state of disorientation or frenzied adulation, the Puppets began to solidify as a unit with the release of "Scary Monsters" and "Huevos."
When Cobain invited the Kirkwoods to play on "MTV Unplugged in New York," the band became internationally appreciated. The release of "Too High to Die" finally captured the Puppets as an eclectic power trio capable of a nimble dexterity and ferocious teamwork; "Backwater" became a radio and MTV video hit.
But success in rock is a mixed blessing, especially for a group of boys who turned into men while touring and playing together for a decade-and-a-half. It's part of the pop process (enter, that classic part of the VH-1 show when the narrator says, "But then they turned to...."). By 1996 the band had splintered, with Curt keeping the Meat Puppets afloat, Bostrom suffering from tinnitus and trying to keep the band's name out there by maintaining the musical archives (one of the results of this effort is the crackling, spontaneous performance on the "Live in Montana" album) and becoming a sort of chief historian with a Meat Puppets web site, and brother Cris having all kinds of health concerns. It took nearly a decade for the Meat Puppets to get back on their musical feet.
When the Kirkwood brothers reconciled in 2006, they entered a new phase of creative output, bringing in drummer Sahm, recording three albums and touring heavily as a name brand act. Now, with "Rat Farm," they are garnering more critical acclaim.
The current tour has taken the band to Russia, Spain and England. While the faces in the crowds range at all ages, the opening acts are like high-tech grandchildren of the acid-rock scene. Kirkwood says he's amazed at "how together" the current new wave of musicians are "compared to the way we were at that age. There were no CDs when we started playing. We are always around kids who are half our age."
Although it's a mystery what kind of costume members of the Meat Puppets might be wearing on Halloween -- Kirkwood is wearing a dress on the band's most commercially successful album, after all -- in the kingdom of the "Too High to Die," it will be the inner Kirkwood speaking truth to power in the guise of the court jester.
Indeed, Kirkwood doesn't really see himself as much of a political animal, and is pretty humble and distrusting when it comes to the way his own mind works.
"I'm pretty respectful of other people's points of view," he says. "I'm not real respectful of my own point of view."
Friday, October 04, 2013
of Republican Shut Down
Anarchy in the USA
So the sun comes up and Grand Canyon National Park is closed and more than an hour and a half's drive away, at around 8:30 a.m., Nevada Stone, proprietor of 7Ate9, has arrived at her sandwich and catering shop having just explained to an employee that they need not come in because the more than 1,000 tasties they make for one of the the park's visitor center cafes will not be needed."Employees don't understand," she says. "This is going to have a trickle down effect like you won't believe."
The sun has barely come up and the governor of Arizona, Jan Brewer, has already decided to avoid spending state funds, or any let's-all-pull-together energy on keeping the park open, even though it's one of the most visited landmarks on the planet.
Sure, the state's budget remains strapped in the Great Recession of the 21st century, but what the governor says, being a member of a party not exactly known for its compassion right now, is just plain weird.
"I don't know if the Grand Canyon is a priority for the state of Arizona ..." she says, speaking on whether the state should step in to keep it's leading tourist destination open. The state stepped in when the last government shutdown happened in 1995 and 1996, when then-Arizona Gov. Fife Symington, also a Republican, got a group of real estate bigwigs together, including Long F. Long, to keep the park open to tourists despite the shut downs during the middle of the administration of President Bill Clinton.
But in 2013 the situation is different. A radical element of the Tea Party has established a corner in the U.S. House of Representatives and their political mills to grind are as hard line as any Jihadist in the Middle East.
Meanwhile, more sandwiches continue to go unmade at 7Ate9 ... after decades of the conservative element in society supporting the idea that privatization works, government sub-contractors from everything from the defense industry to sandwich shops are cutting back, or thinking about cutting back, or, who knows what to think ... so far this is a minute-by-minute deal, a shared national nightmare.
Furloughed workers were told to plan for the shut down to go on definitely. How one plans for an
indefinite stretch is anyone's guess. The existential crisis defines the sort of madness you can find in the 21st century. Call it endless indecision.
"There is absolutely no idea of how long its going to last," says Nevada Stone, who has not
made one sandwich during the first hours of the shut down. "Employee hours are going to be cut, hours are going to be cut, and some might be laid off."
The wheel of karma keeps on turning, and the web of life goes under the microscope. Who is affected, just for the park in northern Arizona? Jeep tours? Busloads of people? Coffee people. Chicken people. Beef people and soup sayers. Grand Canyon river outfitters. The National Zoo is closed until further notice.
Just in Flagstaff and Sedona, where the canyon is less than two hours away, the connectivity to the possible causes and effects are hard to get the mind around.
"The whole town is going to be affected and there a lot of people who are not going to get a paycheck," the sandwich makers says. "I can't imagine any state not being affected."
Others can. On the radio, political scientists in the Washington D.C. Beltway are more assuring, or, more attack dog in their soothsaying. One talking head from the Heritage Foundation seems particularly immune from the drama, and one imagine what kind of gated community he might live in.
Gated communities with their HOA's, the most base-level of all governmental entities in the United States, remain open.
"Unhappy with public services and unwilling to pay contribute to a general pool to pay for services city, or, countrywide, the residents of some gated communities have seceded from the civic order ...," states"Fortress America: Gated Communities in the United States," a book written just before of the turn of the century by two Brookings Institution authors, Edward J. Blakely and Mary Gail Snyder. In the years since then, during a President George W. Bush administration, when the voting base for the conservative vote was inwardly turned toward the national fireplaces of televised terror, fear and xenophobic views broadcast 24-hours-a-day by the Fox News network, a new kind of heartless pod person has been bred ... cold enough to launch a Teat Party of people willing to take the whole world hostage regardless of the global economic pain.
Let's play political pong in the echo chambers of intolerance. All sides get to compete. States the front page of the Oct. 2 Arizona Republic: "Obama: GOP's 'Idealogical Crusade' against health care to blame ... Boehner: Democrats 'Slammed the door' on bipartisan negotiations." The headline writer's biases are clear, if you read closely enough. Few people do. Everyone just falls into the pit of the noise, screaming blame, pointing fingers. It's the national pastime.
"One faction in one party in one body ... an ideological crusade," says President Barack Obama, who has himself taken up a no prisoners policy in the politics of gridlock. But the conservatives were the first monkeys to throw the feces at the other monkey island. The blame coats the two-party system like political shinola.
The "Republican Shutdown" is now the phrase by day two. The term "lemming strategy" is used even by Republicans being led by the nose ...Obama, it's reported, is set to meet with GOP leaders, sometime later during the afternoon of Day Two. Boehner, upset the Democrats are taking a page from the original Republican hard line during this "do-nothing" decade of Congress, cries foul. But in an increasingly transparent society of social media, where disinformation is absorbed, digested and released back into the air by the electronic beehive, few little violins can be played, as far as Mr. Boehner goes.
Though it took a little time, more than 24 hours, the level of disablement reached by the Republican shut down was noticed by the military industrial complex. Said James Clapper, director of National Intelligence, mentioned "the damage will be insidious." While no new wars were known to be declared, Clapper said the shut down degraded global security.
Eight-hundred thousand government employees furloughed. Stressed out IRS employees with children, mortgage debt. Prison guards going month-to-month. Federal agents, three-fourths of the intelligence network, labelled as "non-essential," as not-on-the-ball as meals on wheels.
Meanwhile, the mouth of the Grand Canyon is wide open, breezy and silent. Rocks older than civilization, yes, even life itself, continue to degrade.
Lee's Ferry, just south of Lake Powell, andthe only way to get across the Colorado River in northern Arizona, is as much on lock down as a gated community. Barricaded by the government. Pre-paid permits of $2,000 for rafting companies are in limbo. Lee's Ferry was the only way to cross the Colorado River, not to
mention to let pontoon rafts into the river and embark upon a journey down the Colorado, since long before
the National Park system was created. Like, dude, whatever did the Grand Canyon do before the Feds took over?
"Complicated times," says John Jarvis, head of the National Park Service.
Forty-eight hours of anarchy in the USA, and only the boundaries we believe, tentatively, to exist, that is, the rules of more than 200 years of federal law, history, etc., etc., suddenly erased.
On the third day of the Republican Shut Down, the mice were roaring and the lions sounded more distant, distracted, apologetic or just plain unreal. United States Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) describes the Tea Party wing as insane. But the concept of sanity, in terms of the role of government, is shred, perplexed, ephemeral and unreal.
The Grand Canyon Park itself had become some kind of wild scene, enough to make the late Edward Abbey, the anarchic environmentalist novelist proud, with reports of people crossing boundaries, removing barricades, "running across highways," according to one National Public Radio report, in order to get a look over the edge. As a result, more highways leading to the park are closed to further restrict access.
Regardless, Gov. Brewer, who has been in Flagstaff for a conference on manufacturing by Day Three, has instead been asked about the Republican Shut Down's impact on tourism. The report states she had asked federal officials about a couple of options to keep the park open, but was denied. That was all. It did not sound like a giant effort, a blare of horns at the wall of Jericho. More like a political back spin, a bit of a dodge from a numb skull original statement such as ... "I don't know if the Grand Canyon is a priority for the state of Arizona" which, even when taken out of context, sounds a sorry note. By Day Four, however, the governors office is making more of a push to re-open the park.
Meanwhile, the state of such entertainment entities at the Grand Canyon as dinner theater steakhouses, pasta contractors, campground employees and their residents, tour-flight pilots, all kinds of employees at the lodges, none of these people quote "government" workers are thrown into the air: burro drivers and burrito makers, pool men and pool players, projectionists and train conductors and gas attendants and hamburger flippers ...
Two-thousand, five-hundred or so miles away to the east, in Washington D.C., House Republicans are breaking down, looking for outs, and Reid is apologizing for hurting Boehner's feelings. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, for a half-decade the most intractable obstructionist in American history, if the total lack of activity in Congress during the Obama administration is counted, is looking for a savior: "Help us out of this mess," he was reported as saying. Several congressional Republicans, such as Rep. Michael Fitzpatrick (R-Pa.), said he was ready to break from the Tea Party led Shut Down with other more moderate conservatives, but about 60 hours into anarchy in the USA, nothing had really changed.
Until approximately 11:48 a.m., Arizona time, when the first report of "gunshots at the Capitol building" was reported over the radio ... the Capitol complex, once on shut down, now on lock down, now on gun-tootin' showdown ... Turns out a deranged woman has been shot and killed.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Sometimes music sets the soul free,
more times (much more) it sounds
no more important than the sour
crunch of crickets calling upon
the creator as they are crushed
beneath our feet ... I think listening
to Meghan McCain on television
is more like the latter, as talking
heads go ... but I think that about
a lot of talking heads on political
But now that she has spoken out about New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie, I am completely relieved one summer activity wasn't a complete waste of time: Such as when I found a free copy of Meghan McCain's book on the 2008 political campaign (published in in 2010), Dirty Sexy Politics. Now, most political books are found real cheap maybe a year or so after they are released. So right now my best advice is always wait to find it that way rather than pay the amazing prices for them in hard cover at the bookstores. This one is (was) $24. Maybe it would have held its value and been harder to find for free if Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) wouldn't have been crushed in the 2008 election campaign. But I doubt it. He's still bouncing around, all quite relevant, a national resource, more than just a cartoon character, a Manchurian Candidate or a maverick ... and so ...
Political books are pretty ephemeral. The writers get promoted on the Daily Shows and Colberts and they get to be introduced on talk shows, radio shows and such with a mention they have the books out now. It's quite a calling card. If the American Dream is a fantasy, so then is appearing on these shows as a replacement for heaven, not so much confessing it all but trying to match your wits against the host, like on video games, trying to show us how smart you are ...
Well, you are smart. Sure you are. You are reading this, right, and that must have taken some damn research. And so is Meghan McCain. She's smart, not deep, since she clearly needs a whole bunch more grasp of those things, in this, the post-literate world, of you know, called "history." Yes, she loves her dad. So did about 48 million other people desperately in search of some rational leadership. They have Barack Obama, of course, and he feels their pain, too. But they don't want him to feel their pain. They want any other devil than Mr. Obama to feel their pain. For half a decade now it has been this way, and guess what? Wishes aren't fishes and they don't have a fry, in their minds. So be it.
Anyway, the point is, Ms. McCain's "Dirty Sexy Politics" is not all about her hair and clothes she wore during the campaign and such cool stuff as how she would go all mavericky doing such things as stealing campaign signs. Now, this book is no "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail," written during the Nixon/McGovern race in the 1ast century by Hunter S. Thompson. Nope on the gonzo. Nope. Nope. Nope. Even though the title is "Dirty Sexy Politics" the style is much, much, well, salon-washed, in terms of being a piece of literature. Times are different now. Clarity is everything. Hair style is, too.
Moving on ... Let me set the scene a little. The McCain campaign staff goes to Tortilla Flat, which in addition to being a spot in the Superstition Mountains southeast of Phoenix, also is a kind of book tourist trap restaurant outside of Nashua, New Hampshire. There is a giant theme restaurant sized giant cactus at the restaurant near the border of Massachusetts, along a part of the highway where the whole region seems to be a all zoned for these kinds of big feeds for busloads, as I recall.
One thing we are told in the book is it's election day, the primary, and McCain is running against Mitt Romney, perennial loser, but laughing with the bankers, all the same. Tortilla Flat is such an anonymoplace Ms. McCain "didn't bother putting any makeup on. I was so happy not to have to get up at the crack of dawn and be a daughter-of prop who waved in a cute outfit."
Okay, so after that, "on the way back to the hotel, we noticed a street corner with a bunch of Mitt Romney signs. His signs were everywhere, wherever you looked in New Hampshire. I'd gotten pretty sick of them. Somebody from the Romney campaign had even put a ton of their signs right outside our campaign hotel, too, knowing that we were all inside and forced to look at them. So when we saw a bunch of Romney signs on that corner on election day, and nobody else was around, we asked our driver to pull over. We got out of the car and walked over to the signs - planning to put them all in our trunk.
Stealing campaign signs is technically illegal, but I never thought anyone would enforce this. Nor did I expect we'd get caught. But just as we had pulled over and I shoved a ton of Romney signs into our trunk, another car pulled up and blocked us. A super-dorky guy in a suit leaped out of his car. He was pissed as hell.
'What campaign are you with?' he yelled.
'Guliani,' we said."
Now at this point it might be a good idea where, exactly, Meghan McCain comes from. I grew up in the same general vicinity, so hey, please allow me to introduce myself, "Sympathy for the Devil" style. The simplest way to do is somewhere ensconced in the North Phoenix Mountains, near what is now called Piestewa Peak, around where the likes of Alice Cooper, Gordy Hormel and yes, the late Sen. Barry Goldwater, the extreme libertarian is just awe-right-by-me guy, once had a homw but currently is a statue ... at the corner of Tatum and Lincoln in Paradise Valley, Arizona, and it's a nice place to live.