Firefly fans - activate!

To me, fellow Brownshirts!

NASA is naming Node 3 of the International Space Station, and the agency has opened the options up for a vote. So what's one of the possible names for this piece of space-faring hardware?

Serenity!

I think you know what this means, so get crackin' Firefly fans. When I went to the NASA site Serenity already had 86 percent of the vote, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't cast your own ballot. Do you really want to be the one keeping Serenity from reaching space? Do you?!?


(What?! Two posts in one day? Four in a month?!? I know, right?)

Death of a newspaper

Ugh.

I don't necessarily advocate for the death of newspapers — though I do think they have failed to adapt and evolve, and are victims of natural selection and hubris. But it saddens me to see papers slowly dying, especially when I hear a newspaper like the Rocky Mountain News is shutting down.

I haven't kept up with The Rocky for a while, but at one point it was one of the best small newspapers in the nation. Unfortunately, with all the things negatively affecting the industry right now, The Rocky may be one of the first fatal victims of the current newspaper crisis. Worst of all, I don't think they'll be the last.

As I've told other people, I think journalism — vital and necessary — will survive; I have my doubts about newspapers.

It's a hard thing to admit. In a lot of ways, I still think of myself as a journalist, even though it's been years since I've worked at a newspaper. Many of my friends continue to work at a paper, and I'm sincerely worried about them. But do I think papers deserve to survive? That's the hardest question, and my answer is a solid, "I don't know."

Papers can survive, but only if they recreate themselves to the point they're almost not newspapers anymore, not in the traditional sense. Newspapers, essentially, haven't changed much since movable type. It's time for newspapers to reinvent themselves.

You can read more reactions to the death of the Rocky Mountain News at Editor & Publisher, the Washington Post and Poynter, which goes the extra mile by offering the staff of The Rocky a helping hand. As an interesting sidebar, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer ran a story yesterday about the value of newspapers and the idea of Seattle as a "no-newspaper town." It's a painful, but necessary, concept to consider; otherwise, newspapers will just be continuing to bail water out of a ship that's already sunk.

Heinz sours on famous pickle logo

Pickle news!

The H.J. Heinz Co., famous for its 57 varieties and various picnic condiments, decided last month to yank the famous gherkin logo from its bottles of ketchup.

What do you mean, "What famous gherkin logo?"

For the last 110 years, Heinz products have featured a tiny image of a pickle on its labels, hearkening back to the second — and arguably, most famous — condiment the company made (horseradish was the first, but who wants to look at a bowl of horseradish?). But now, Heinz is replacing the gherkin on its ketchup bottles with a tomato and the phrase, "Grown, not made."

I have no problems with tomatoes in general, but there's something to be said for tradition. And what bugs me most is the idea that a tomato is supposed to somehow translate to "organic" AND that marketers think we need a picture to remind us of what's actually in a bottle of ketchup.

Attention, Heinz: I KNOW KETCHUP IS MADE FROM TOMATOES.

I'm not going to become suddenly confused when, while squirting the red stuff on my hot dog (not a euphemism), I see a pickle on the bottle. "Oh, no!" I'll cry, "Somehow this condiment that even two year old children recognize has transformed into a bottle of pickle sauce. How could this be? Oh, why didn't I see that pickle warning label sooner?!"

Bah. Do you realize the gherkin was synonymous with Heinz at one time? Some folks know this and have launched a no doubt doomed-to-failure Facebook push to save the pickle. It's a nice thought (and at least they're doing something about it), but I doubt Heinz will backtrack. Pickle-haters.

I'm not really upset that the logo is changing — it'll still be on other products — but what bothers me is just the dumbness behind it. Once upon a time, the company used to hand out little "pickle pins" to people so that when they saw a pickle, they'd think of Heinz. Now when I see a tomato on their ketchup labels, I'll be thinking of who to throw one at.


(And yes, I also wanted to use the phrase, "yank the famous gherkin.")

Phrase of the day

From a conversation with Lopez:

MONKEY-RESISTANT

VEGETABLES

All my favorite restaurants need to come to me

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Sorry about not posting more often; I could give you a bunch of excuses, many of them reasonable, but let's just say I've been flaking and leave it at that.

As most of you know, Lopez and I just came back from a two-week stay in New York City, and it was fun, incredible, beautiful and grimy, exhilarating and exhausting. I'll put together a better report later, but for now let me tell you about the most fun restaurant I've probably ever been to.

A few blocks from where we were staying, on the hazy borderland between the Lower East Side and Greenwich Village, there are four tiny Indian restaurants side-by-side and stacked on top of each other, so there are two on the basement floor and two on top of them. The person we were renting an apartment from told us to ignore the guys trying to usher you through their particular door and recommended the top-left. That turned out to be Milon.

Glancing in the windows later, I'm guessing the other three eateries are similar, but I can tell you Milon is maybe about six and a half feet wide and maybe 15 feet long (not including the kitchen). Tables are crammed along the sides, leaving a narrow strip that is like a runway for the waiters that need as much poise and flexibility as your average model. And the ceiling - my God, the ceiling - is low and covered with red chili pepper lights, garland, twinkle lights and every other gaudy doodad ever strung on a wire. Going hand-in-hand with the disco fever dream is Indian dance music blaring non-stop from unseen speakers hidden somewhere in the tangle overhead.

It was completely awesome.

I'm a big guy, and my overcoat itself is a monstrous beast to be tamed, so you can imagine what settling in to our table was like. But once we were sitting it was comfortable, cozy even, and the service was attentive and top-notch. And the food itself was delicious, fresh and flavorful.

Eating at Milon is definitely an experience, an event as much as a meal. Lately it seems that whenever me and Lopez travel we end up finding one restaurant that we fall in love with and wish we could go to on a regular basis, dragging our friends there so we can spend hours eating and talking and hanging out. In New York, Milon was that restaurant.

OK, before I go completely into my old restaurant review mode, here are some pictures. Keep in mind that I took these, 1. without a flash, and, 2. pretty much at eye-level and from the very rear of the place. I had to duck when I walked through the place, so I'm not exaggerting when I say it was small. But again, it was cozy, not claustrophobic (shit, there I go again - pictures!).

YES WE DID

I'm too overwhelmed to say anything that truly expresses how profoundly happy and proud I am that Barack Obama has been elected president of the United States — I'm not sure I'll ever be able to really put it all into words.

But let me just say that, for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. This election has renewed my faith in this country, and I feel a rediscovered sense that we have direction, one based on the ideals representing the best aspects of our national identity. Obama will have a tough task ahead of him thanks to the fallout from the worst administration the United States has ever seen, but I'm not worried. We will now have real leadership in the White House and I can't wait to see where it takes us.

I'm very aware that today is draped in history. We've not only rejected the policies and power-plays desecrating the laws this country is founded upon, but we've also given ourselves a mandate. By simultaneously turning our backs on the extremism of the current administration and voting for this country's first black president, we are saying that we want — we need — to be better. To paraphrase a commentator on one of the news channels, tonight, hundreds of years after the birth of our imperfect nation, we have elected a black man to the highest office in our country and in an instant have become that more perfect union.

Let me finish by saying this: I've been lucky enough to see Barack Obama speak twice in person as a Democratic candidate for president. Tonight, I was privileged to watch him on television when he delivered his acceptance speech as the president-elect.

Hey electorate, can you do me a solid?

Dear America,

Tomorrow is Election Day, and I have a few favors to ask:

Don't be stupid.

Don't be racist.

Don't be hypocritical.

Don't be petty.

Thank you.

We voted for Barack Obama

Back in the car, driving away from the polling station, Lopez started to cry a little.

We just cast our votes for Barack Obama for president, and it was an emotional moment for both of us. I teared up while I was waiting for my turn at the poll myself. It struck me that I'd always hoped to see the day when America would reach the point that a black man would have a real chance at being elected president, but I don't think I ever thought I would. Too many people have been too willfully ignorant for too long for me not to be cynical.

But the fact that we were able to vote for the candidate that will be best for the country and who just happens to be black speaks to the message of hope the Obama campaign has been pushing. Casting that vote is in itself an act of faith, faith in not just the candidate but also in the better nature of the American people. Hopefully that faith is not misplaced, and we can begin getting this country back on track.

But for now, I have never been prouder of the American democratic process, or of taking part in that process as a voter.

Be sure to get out there and vote, everybody: Be a part of the process, be a part of something bigger than yourself — be a part of history.

The art of the taco truck

Every now and then Lopez and I will walk to work, and in the parking lot of a little apartment complex we pass by there's this little taco truck. It's never actually open, it's just parked there, but it's got some neato paint work on it so I thought I'd snap a few shots of the detail before the trailer disappeared.

I like the way Pedro Infante looks as if he's waiting to take a drink from the tap in that last one. By the way, the name of this taco outfit? La Fantabulous!

And yeah, yeah, I know this is kind of a lazy post, but gimme a break — you've got to ease back into this sorta thing. Oh, and in case you're wondering, yes, I'll be watching the debate tonight. I told a co-worker that I'll either develop spontaneous ulcers or my head will crack open and a moose will jump out. I'll keep you updated.

(Seen on Shoal Creek Boulevard, near 183)

Your smack-talkin' quote of the day

I'm not a fan of extreme fighting — oh, sorry, "mixed martial arts" — but this kind of smack-talk might change my mind:

If Ken proves to be more sham [than] rock and Fergi beats him, then the Slice hype grows even greater. Dude is already more myth [than] Sasquatch, Chupacabra and a [expletive] unicorn combined. Kevin is the black Yeti.

Holy crap! It's like a chubby Mr. T for a new generation. And there's even more smack in the rest of the story! I wish it was acceptable to call someone out in situations besides sports — I've got a whole list of people I'd come down on like a rain of bony midget fists.

I (yi-yi), Robot

This is how it starts, y'know. Did we not learn anything from the replicants and Skynet?

From Live Science:

Scientists have created a robot controlled by a biological brain made of rat neurons. The robot, named Gordon, is not exactly an Einstein but represents a remarkable bridging of the gap between biology and technology. Gordon relies a dish with about 60 electrodes to pick up electrical signals generated by the brain cells. The brain drives the robot's movements.

HOLY SHIT. And then there's this:

The robot has no additional control from a human or a computer, the scientists state. Its sole means of control is from its own brain.

It's own brain, you doomed meat-sacks! And finally:

The researchers aim to get the robot to learn, by applying different signals as it moves into predefined positions. That might allow them to witness how memories manifest themselves in the brain when the robot revisits familiar territory. They hope the work will eventually lead to a better understanding of Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, stroke and brain injuries.

Yeah, right. You know what that robot's going to learn?


Exactly.

I got nothing

Due to popular demand (ahem), this blog has been roused from it's crusty-eyed slumber and given a kick in the keister. It's a big keister, though, so it's still gonna be kinda slow-moving until it's had some coffee first.

Let's see — so what's been going on? Let's bullet-point this sucker:

• We still support Obama, even though conservative knuckleheads are trying to scare people by hinting that he might be the Anti-Christ. Hell, I might be supporting him even more now. And at least it would probably mean Infernaeon or The Sword would play the Inauguration. Also, people who think so little of the citizens that they would try to convince them some dude's the Anti-Christ would no longer be in charge. So, y'know, there's that.

• Speaking of stupid people — I really thought John Edwards was smarter than that. That'll teach me.

• Was I the only one who had visions of "Red Dawn" when the news first broke that Russia had attacked Georgia?

• I haven't seen the movie yet so I'm trying to hold off on straight-out judgment, but isn't it weird that Robert Downey Jr. is basically doing blackface in "Tropic Thunder"? I get that it's supposed to be satire, but still ... I hope it's used to say something other than, "ain't race funny?!"

• And finally, this:

And yet, I'm not satisfied

I'm kind of busy with work right now, so I can't really get into the details of this story about the Iraqi government meeting U.S. benchmarks except to say ... well, bullshit.

From AP:

The White House sees the progress in a particularly positive light, declaring in a new assessment to Congress that Iraq's efforts on 15 of 18 benchmarks are "satisfactory" — almost twice of what it determined to be the case a year ago.

Wait for it ... waaaait for it ...

The May 2008 report card, obtained by the Associated Press, determines that only two of the benchmarks — enacting and implementing laws to disarm militias and distribute oil revenues — are unsatisfactory.

Oh — IS THAT ALL?!

OK, now that I'm good and pissed — back to work. Oh, one more thing: Is it just me, or does anyone else remember getting a "satisfactory" on your report card meaning you weren't doing so hot?

Behold, the future is now!

So far, most of these candid photo posts tend to sound like "why I love Austin" posts, but I can't help it. Things like this tend to happen all the time here — and that's pretty awesome.

We went to First Thursday with some friends last week, and for no real reason (that I could tell) this person was walking up and down the street in a homemade robot costume, waving to people and posing for cameras.

And yup, the robot would do The Robot.

(I just wish my camera wasn't acting up, because the first picture I tried to take was better than this one. Damn!)

With some of the grumbling you'll hear about how gentrified this particular section of South Congress has become, and how First Thursday is becoming a marketing tool more than a means for community outreach, it's nice to see that a wackily DIY spirit still strolls up and down the boulevard.

Next time I need to get a picture of the Free Hugs folks, who I'm guessing are part of this whole thing. In other places, having a stranger come up to you and say, "Want a free hug? If you don't like it, you can give it back!" would seem annoyingly odd or hopelessly hippy. Here it's just kinda — nice.

Domo arigato, Austin!

(Seen on South Congress Avenue, somewhere around Monroe and Annie streets)

This post is a lot like Hobo Soup

It's been a while since either one of us posted, so here are some random thoughts I've been meaning to blog about but just haven't found the gumption to do it.

That's right, gumption — now get outta my way, I've got some prospectin' to do!

• The Austin Aztex continue their stellar debut season, and since the last time I posted have crushed the DFW Tornados 3-0 and beat the Laredo Heat — defending PDL champs — 1-0. Thanks to that, as well as a separate loss by the Mississippi Brilla, the Aztex qualified for a spot in the 2008 U.S. Open Cup! The team followed that news up with another win, sending the New Orleans Shell Shockers packing with a score of 1-0. The home team will now face the Atlanta Silverbacks in the first round of Open Cup play June 10th, but not before a match against Mississippi May 31.

Of course, I'm waiting for the next home game, which will be against the El Paso Patriots (boo, hiss!). The Patriots held the Aztex to a scoreless tie the last time they met, so it's a chance for a little redemption!

• Oh, yes, actually, this time I actually am growing a beard. It's not just a case of me not shaving.

• For a variety of reasons, Lopez! and I have been trying to pretend the car doesn't exist. It's not the car's fault and we're not trying to shun it or anything, we just want to see if we can get along without it.

This probably seems ridiculous to some people, but we'd really like to eliminate (or at least minimize) our reliance on a car. There are a few reasons for this: it would mean no car loan and insurance payments, so we'd be able to save that cash; gas is getting stupidly expensive and all I can see is oil company people taking money baths; Austin is supposed to have a small train system up and running by the end of summer, and the bus routes should be beefed up soon; and speaking of buses, most of what we do is in a particular area so walking and bussing is feasible.

In the last couple of weeks I think we've used the car a total of four times, which we think is pretty good. We walk to work and take the bus everywhere else, and it's surprising how quickly you get used to not having a car. There are still some things that are just easier with your own ride, of course, but it's a process and we're working on it. Hopefully we'll get some decent bikes soon, and I think that will help us use the car even less. We even got month-long bus passes!

• Corner Gas is an excellent show with a loopy, gentle humor and you should watch it if you can. At this point it's basically Canadian reruns, but we try to catch it every night. In Austin it's on cable channel 21 (WGN) at 11 p.m. — is it on anywhere else? And why the hell doesn't Netflix have it yet?!

• So is everyone willing to admit that this has been one of the worst — if not the worst — administration in the history of the United States? Oh, and Hillary? Please, just stop it already.

• Finally, things I did last night.

Seriously, I'm going to talk about this once a week

I meant to mention it earlier, but the Aztex won their first home game, 2-0 against the Houston Leones!

It was a good, fast-paced match, with the Aztex dominating game-play and putting pressure on the Leones from start to finish. The team looked good, and combined with a first-game tie against the El Paso Patriots (ppbbth) the Aztex are now at the top of the division. Most of the players looked pretty tight, and the team seemed to work well together (No. 23's got to cool off though — I thought the guy was going to start a fight, and that's not going to help him or the team).

It was a freakin' humid night, but there were about 1,500 people there (which was a lot more than we were expecting) and Lopez said it reminded her of going to a Diablos game in El Paso.

Oh! And my mom and nephew were in town visiting, so it was nice that we were able to take them to a fun game.

Next up — the utter destruction of the DFW Tornados!

Photo lifted from the Austin Aztex Web site

Chico's vs Chuco's: FIGHT!!

It was bound to happen sooner or later; Chico's Tacos in El Paso is suing Chuco's Tacos in Austin for trademark infringement.

For what it's worth, the guys at Chuco's (fellow El Paso homies — represent!) must have know they were cutting it thin, what with the name, the tacos and (arguably) the logo.

But even though Chico's might be an El Paso institution, they don't have a lock on flautas submerged in a thin chile sauce. And like I told Lopez!, Chuco's is what Chico's would be if Chico's gave a shit about quality. It's not the same as Chico's — what could be? — but it's pretty good and I do get a jones for them a lot like I do for Chico's, so I hope they push through this BS and keep rocking the taquitos.

The Statesman has the story and one of the guys from Taco Journalism is quoted toward the end, so go give it a read, fellow El Pasoans, and let me know what you think.

Dammit — now I want some taquitos!

Attention El Paso: The Austin Aztex are going to kick your ass

Let the smack-talk begin!

The Austin Aztex play their first game tomorrow and I'm ridiculously, annoyingly excited about the city's new soccer team. They'll be playing against the El Paso Patriots (Boooo!) and will play their first home game versus the Houston Leones next week.

You're going down, El Paso! Houston — you're next!

Boooo! BOOOOOO!!!!!

My mouth is dry and I can't find the pillow

When I woke up from a dream at about 5:30 this morning, I found myself blinking at the soft, pre-dawn light outlining the blinds I could see across the bedroom. Which was weird, since I wear glasses and usually can't see shit without them.

And that's when I realized I WAS wearing them.

Huh.

My dreams are usually pretty mundane, with the exception of The Giant Talking Cockroach Dream, The Awesome Flying Dream and The Zombie Hoard Dream. Otherwise it's always something like me talking to people at work, or at a sedate get-together if my brain's feeling particularly frisky. A lot of times there are complete strangers in my dreams, and I wonder if my sleep is populated with the faces of people I see on the street.

Often I write in my dreams, and if I can remember enough of it I'll scribble it down. When I look at it later there's a fifty percent chance it's the kernel of an interesting idea, and half a chance that it's something completely ridiculous that doesn't make sense even to me. I did write a Halloween poem in a dream that ended up winning third place in a real-life school contest once, so that was cool.

Exciting stuff, right? My dream last night wasn't an exception:

I was in an office that was an wide-open space, with great big windows along one side and the back (the direction I was facing), and for some reason I think it was in Canada. It felt Canada-y. And I was talking to some woman (another stranger) who had given me a piece of paper to look at; I got the feeling that I wasn't just looking at it, I was evaluating it. Basically, I was some kind of low-level boss (even in my dreams I try to avoid too much responsibility).

And I had taken my glasses off to look at whatever tiny spot I was supposed to looking at, because I'm near-sighted and I can see things that are close-up better without them. I told her something (approved! I'm a good boss!) and REACHED DOWN AND PUT MY GLASSES BACK ON.

[end dream]

So I think I reached out and put my glasses on IN MY SLEEP! And I never do things like that! Except apparently I do.

Consider this a warning if you see me wandering the countryside in the late-hours, glasses in hand and trying to hand you imaginary pieces of paper.

That old song and dance

Lopez and I saw Young@Heart this weekend, which is a movie about senior citizens singing renditions of popular modern songs as part of a choir. Who knew someone could actually make me like a song by Coldplay?

It's a very sweet, funny and inspirational documentary that was bittersweet but somehow always uplifting. There were times when it felt almost as if we were watching a PBS special, but that's a compliment more than a criticism. Oh, and if you think a movie about a bunch of old folks singing songs that suddenly have extra layers of hopefulness and a sense of mortality would be at all sentimental ... well, their version of "Fix You" kills me every time. And when they go to the prison and sing ... agh, sorry, that sound you hear is my heart breaking all over again.

During the movie, this was my tally:

Wistful smiles: 14

Heavy sighs: 8

Teared up: at least five times

Full-on wept: three times

I guess my kindergarten teacher was right — I really am sensitive. That's one for you, you old bag!