Punk Rock Monday

You will never ever over-estimate how important the Pixies were to my coming of age. While I can listen to every single track on every single album they released, it's obvious that Surfer Rosa and the Come On Pilgrim EP are head and shoulders above the rest of the catalog. The latter of those two recordings was unlike anything I had heard when I was 14 years old.

"Caribou"


"Levitate Me"


Surfer Rosa still strikes me in its rawness and irony-soaked aggressiveness. There's a furious urgency to their tales of bizarrely sexualized violence that nonetheless fails to hide the playful "yeah, we're singing about priests molesting altar boys" vibe.

"Something Against You"


Also from Rosa, this is from their 2004 reunion tour, "Bone Machine"


The YouTube has a pretty big collection of clips for the Pixies, including some not real good stuff from '91 where the tensions within the band are blatantly obvious (especially when you have the '88 performances for comparison).

Did I mention how much I love the fucking Pixies? Because I really do.

Flotsam and Jetsam

Holy crap, the past few days of my life have been busy, busy, busy, and there are no signs of things letting up soon. I'm just now beginning to grasp the enormity of the transcontinental move that is now only eight weeks away. I'm also beginning to come to terms with the fact that I'm leaving my home of 11 years, a place and people whom I've truly loved like no other. On top of that, I'm dealing with the fact that I'm now an "East Coast Professional," with all the good and bad that that entails.

• I was in DC for the past few days getting trained up on the new job. It's going to take a few days to get my feet under me and get myself networked in to where I feel comfortable, but once I get in the groove, things should be pretty fun. I'll start work-blogging tomorrow, so if you get a chance (or are interested in the subject manner, as all of you academic and ex-academic types are), pop on over.


• We had a yard sale this weekend. It's truly amazing how much money you can rake in by just slapping some of the crap from your garage onto a card table. We made about $200 for the weekend, and what didn't sell got taken to the Goodwill. Hooray for downsizing.


• We went to see David Sedaris tonight with Dave and others. Hi-fucking-larious.


• The ever-enchanting ms. wobs surprised me when I returned from my trip with tix to go see !!! on Tuesday. Me likey.

So there's my life in a nutshell. I'm going to try to get some consistent posting again around here, but adding new content will probably be an evening gig from here on out.

Honey, I'm home!

And I brought you all a gift!



Enjoy it now before Disney makes the YouTube take it down again!

Irregularities

The posting is going to be infrequent for the next little while as I take to the road sans laptop. I'll update if and when I get a chance, but otherwise will be back at some point over the weekend. Until then, stay out of the liquor.

Punk Rock Monday

I never really liked the Misfits. Too angsty for my tastes, and Glenn Danzig is just a freakin' ham, but they are important to that whole punk rock narrative we're trying to document here. Moreover, these early 80s clips provide a pretty interesting window into a peculiarly alienated masculinity. Finally, watching these clips made me remember this kid Morey, with whom I came up through high school. Dude was fucked up.

"Skulls"


"Can't Tell No One" (w/Negative Approach's John Brannon)


"Rise Above" (Black Flag)

Graduate employee union has been

Goodbye GTFF.

Except for the office, and the people who work there. And a lot of the activists. Huh, and I guess some of the members, too. Yeah, I'll be seeing all of you around for a couple more months.

But, all the same, goodbye GTFF.

Unclear on the concept

Oh my:

Preparations to sedate as many as 300 horses stabled at Belgrade's racecourse to keep them calm during a Rolling Stones concert have enraged Serb animal lovers who are lobbying to have the gig moved to another venue.

[...]

The sedative would be diazepam. In Serbia it trades under the name Bensedin, a very popular drug during the 78 days of NATO air strikes in 1999, when much of Belgrade's adult population was on tranquillizers.

ORCA said that if it failed to convince the organizers to change the concert venue, it would contact the Rolling Stones directly and ask them to use their influence.

"I believe we'll succeed since such a reputable band will not allow such a stain on its record," Burazerovic said.

As for the Rolling Stones not allowing such a stain on their record, I have one word: Altamont.

On the other hand, if the animal rights activists succeed, Keith Richards will be able to have one helluva pill party.

Life outside of a Rambo flick

Why the armchair commando argument of "if only they'd been allowed to carry concealed weapons when (gun tragedy X) occurred, this tragedy could've been averted" rings completely and utterly false.

Politics of the network stars

Wondering who your favorite Hollywood impressario is donating to this campaign cycle? Wonder no more!

Incidentally, I'm taking back everything I said about Adam Sandler beginning to develop some range.

And this will help your case how?

I'll admit it. I have no idea what the UFCW is gunning for here:

The leading US shop workers union has sent flyers to thousands of homes in Phoenix, Arizona that suggest Tesco sells alcohol to minors. The leaflets, distributed by the local branch of the United Food and Commercial Workers Union, call on residents to "protect your family" by urging the State Liquor Board to block Tesco's alcohol licence applications. The move is part of a broader union campaign to force Tesco to talk to it. Bob Grossfeld, of the UFCW, said Tesco's management was refusing to make any contact. "They're exacerbating the situation by simply being arrogant and rude. It brings into question whether they are going to be a responsible member of the community."

I know this is standard operating procedure for the corporate campaign: dig up dirt on evil corporation X in order to build up public support for a unionization campaign. Tesco certainly fits the bill as evil corporation X as they mull over invoking the Wal-Mart model of employee relations, but the dirt dug up by the UFCW in this case seems like it could backfire mightily.

My first reaction (placing myself in the position of Joe Sikspak) was, "Okay, Tesco may sell booze to minors, and this means you should have a union because...?" The logic just doesn't follow, in my head. I then read these two grafs:

The latest batch of leaflets went out last Thursday to homes in Scottsdale, a wealthy suburb which attracts the likes of Christina Aguilera for its nightlife and Kate Moss for its rehab facilities, and is host to countless Republican party fundraisers.

For Tesco, this makes it a perfect destination for its Fresh and Easy neighbourhood market chain, which is expected to spark a revolution in US convenience shopping by offering high-end ready meals and fresh food. It also makes the residents unlikely union sympathisers, hence the threat of underage drinking at the heart of UFCW's campaign.

Oh, I see, since Scottsdale trends Republican, make underage drinking a "values issue!" Shrewd, except for the fact that said booze will be peddled by, you guessed it, employees who might want to unionize. So are folks who are already predisposed to be against unions in the first place going to be excited that the people selling their kids bottles of Boone's Farm and Thunderbird will be protected by a union grievance procedure and just cause? Probably not.

Which brings up the obvious question: is the goal here to force Tesco into some neutrality agreement with regards to a UFCW organizing campaign, or is it to keep Tesco from opening stores in the Phoenix metro area? Because if it's the former, this campaign might have hamstrung their community-organizing efforts right out of the gates.

Am I missing something here? Is this a brilliant campaign move or a paint-by-numbers corporate campaign where they're flinging the first piece of poo they can find that looks like a winner?

A funny thing happened on the way to Punk Rock Monday

A few hours ago, I had intended to just say fuck PRM, post a couple of John Denver vids, and say, "Anarchy in Aspen, biznits! Go fuck yourselves!" just to be ironically pomo and punk rock. Probably very, very poorly.

But then pattyjoe posted this blurb on SST band Saccharine Trust, with whom I was not familiar. "Aha!" I said to myself, "A quick and easy with little in the way of research post!" After a search through the approximately four actual ST YouTube posts, I stumbled upon these two vids of Mike Watt and the Missingmen from a March 31, 2007 performance. I found the accompanying text to be extraordinarily powerful, and I'm of the mind that some things do happen for a reason, so I'm reposting it along with the vids:

This performance is from The F.O.R. Benefit (Friends Of Richie) took place at Safari Sam's in Hollywood, on Saturday March 31st 2007.

Richie Hass is an amazing multi-instrumentalist musician. Alumnus of Zoogz Rift's band, he is best known these days for playing in Saccharine
Trust and also with Joe Baiza's Universal Congress - probably the top vibraphonist in Southern California.

Richie was recently diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a cancer of the bone marrow, and since he is a self employed musician, he has no health insurance.

The LA music community was rocked back on their heels by this news. Everybody loves Richie. So a group of musicians, together with the IMF, put together this benefit in Richie's honor. And while the benefit was held in Richie's honor, he has opted to donate the proceeds to the International Myeloma Foundation for much-needed research to find the cure for this disease.

To donate or learn more about The International Myeloma Foundation

Richie's my space page

So enjoy and maybe consider kicking down a few bucks to a good cause.

Oh, and go fuck yourself.

"The Red and the Black"


"Three Girl Rhumba" and "Ex-Lion Tamer"

Reacquainted with old friends

I've picked up a copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for the first time since my junior year in high school and am enjoying it immensely, no, much more immensely than the first time around. The "reading snippets to teach a larger point about American literature/narrative structure" does a lot of damage to the work of art in the service of pedagogy. If we're going to have a "Great Books" curriculum, let's read the whole fucking book, no? At any rate, being able to take the time to read it slowly and savor its lyricism is proving to be especially pleasurable.

I've also rediscovered Tower of Power's epic Live and in Living Color, whose second side monster "Knock Yourself Out" powered many an acid-soaked dance party in my college days. The soul on this show is deep, the horns tight, and the funk ground-shaking. And it has a twenty-minute horn/organ showcase that is The. Shit. The only problem is that with a forty-five minute running time, it's far too short.

He does have a point

L'il wobs was very excited this evening to tell me that earlier today he saw the house in which he was born (a freestanding birth center near the UO Campus). When I asked, obviously in jest, if he remembered anything about the day that he was born, he responded, "Yeah, all of the sudden it was light."

To which all I could say was, "wow."

What digby sez

True dat:

Just as the nation wanted a "fun" president, George W. Bush also surrounded himself with guys he'd like to have a beer with --- and naturally those guys are halfwits just like he is. I guess we should be thankful that he wasn't allowed to put Gonzales or Miers on the Supreme Court.

Strangest. Phone call. Ever.

Don't ever let it be said that we don't get entertaining phone calls at the union office. What follows is a rough transcript which, while not exact, certainly hews to the spirit of the conversation:

Me: Union office.

Caller: Uh, yeah... I have kind of a strange question.

Me: Okay.

Caller: Does your organization have socials?

Me: Yeah, we have end of term parties, our general membership meetings are kind of social occasions, we sponsor intramural teams...

Caller: Are these open to everyone?

Me: Uh, no. They're only for members, as we are using member money.

Caller: Oh, I see. What would you say the age range is in your organization?

Me: [becoming increasingly perplexed] Anywhere from 21 to 65. The bulk would be in their late 20s or early 30s, but it's a pretty diverse bunch.

Caller: Okay, I see. Oh, this is weird. Where would you suggest that a young Asian man in his late twenties go to meet people... no, young women from 22, 23 to their early 30s?

Me: [...]

Caller: I know it's a strange question.

Me: Well, there's the bar scene.

Caller: [laughs] Uh, no. Are there other graduate organizations on campus where he could meet people?

Me: It's a university, there's lots of organizations. I suppose he could go to lectures to meet people who are interested in similar things.

Caller: Uh huh, I see. So, uh, where would you go to meet people?

Me: I'm married.

Caller: Oh, okay. Well, thanks for your help!

Me: No problem.

I suppose I should note that the caller was a woman seemingly calling on behalf of said young Asian male. You don't get that everyday.

Things one probably shouldn't do when plotting the violent overthrow of the Russian government

I'd wager you'd see this one near the top of the list: don't mention you're plotting the violent overthrow of the Russian government:

The Russian tycoon Boris Berezovsky has told the Guardian he is plotting the violent overthrow of President Putin from his base in Britain after forging close contacts with members of Russia's ruling elite.

Comeuppance

The way American journalism appears to work:

Start a catastrophic war on false pretenses, get a free pass to your next job at the World Bank.

Give an undeserved raise to the woman you're fucking, weather calls for your head on a platter.

Nice to know where our priorities are.

Be on the lookout for shifty looking purple people

I'm sure a copy editor will catch this, but I'll record it for posterity:

"The indictment of Christopher Paul paints a disturbing picture of an American who traveled overseas to train as a violet jihadist [emphasis added], joined the ranks of al-Qaida and provided military instruction and support to radial cohorts both here and abroad," Assistant U.S. Attorney General Kenneth Wainstein said in a statement.

Giving new meaning to the term "Bible-thumper"

Noted without comment:

A video shows a guard entering the cell of inmate Jeremy Hansen, 26. The guard then takes Hansen's Bible and strikes him in the side of the face with the book. The two exchange words as the guard walks away, said Mankato Police Officer Allen Schmidt who watched the video.

The rest of the confrontation was not captured on video because of an object obstructing the camera. But the complaint states that Sheppard walked back toward Hansen, grabbed him and pushed him into the cell bars.

Foreshadowing

Sometimes the universe knows things before we do.

Everything you ever needed to know about Camille Paglia's gender politics in a single paragraph

Jeebus. Just because a body uses big words and has an attitude is no reason to give her a megaphone to spread her nitwitticisms:

If women as a group are to advance, it is critical for female politicians as prominent as Hillary to mount serious campaigns for the highest office. So what Hillary is doing is important, even simply to draw a road map for future female aspirants. But it's up to registered Democrats (including me) to decide whether Hillary is in fact suited for the Oval Office or whether her talents are more tailored for a Cabinet role, such as secretary of health and human services.

We'll leave for now Paglia's boneheaded assertion that voters have any say in who is tailored for a Cabinet role. Instead we turn to her patented dichotomizing. It's up to voters to decide if Hillary is suited to the Oval Office (a historical manly men's club), or the Department of Health and Human Services, where she will be able to attend to the more "traditional" concerns of women that she so neglected in her personal life, we're to assume. Because really, the range of human gender is neatly divided into two narrowly defined categories.

Bonus inanity from this pompous gasbag!:

However, I am a skeptic about what is currently called global warming. I have been highly suspicious for years about the political agenda that has slowly accrued around this issue. As a lapsed Catholic, I detest dogma in any area. Too many of my fellow Democrats seem peculiarly credulous at the moment, as if, having ground down organized religion into nonjudgmental, feel-good therapy, they are hungry for visions of apocalypse. From my perspective, virtually all of the major claims about global warming and its causes still remain to be proved.

Climate change, keyed to solar cycles, is built into Earth's system. Cooling and warming will go on forever. Slowly rising sea levels will at some point doubtless flood lower Manhattan and seaside houses everywhere from Cape Cod to Florida -- as happened to Native American encampments on those very shores. Human habitation is always fragile and provisional. People will migrate for the hills, as they have always done.

Who is impious enough to believe that Earth's contours are permanent? Our eyes are simply too slow to see the shift of tectonic plates that has raised the Himalayas and is dangling Los Angeles over an unstable fault. I began "Sexual Personae" (parodying the New Testament): "In the beginning was nature." And nature will survive us all. Man is too weak to permanently affect nature, which includes infinitely more than this tiny globe.

First, can we note the out-of-left-field self-promotion of her brilliantly bad Sexual Personae for no apparent reason in that third graf? You don't get to count that as a citation on your CV, Camille, and no self-respecting grad student is going to read your tome unless it's to point and laugh.

And then, of course, based on her growing up in upstate NY and having a college professor who encouraged her to study geology (and oh, how we wish this professor had been successful!), she dismisses the consensus opinion of climatologists, enshrined in the studies of the conservatively biased (in the scientific sense) Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, as religious dogma. From her perspective, the major claims about global warming have yet to be proven. Of course, from her perspective, she's a Major Thinker who'll be celebrated in the academic canon for centuries.

Moreover, she reduces climate change to "[s]lowly rising sea levels [that] will at some point doubtless flood lower Manhattan and seaside houses everywhere from Cape Cod to Florida," and when that happens, people will just move, as they've always done. No mention that even small increases in the average temperature can completely disrupt ecosystems, cause mass extinctions, and completely ruin economies. But nope, for her, it's all a hypothetical matter of losing a vacation home.

What a twit.

Take me out to the public art at the ballgame

Let's be honest: we shouldn't expect great public art at the various municipal baseball stadia that dot the major and minor population centers of our nation. These venues most appropriately host Norman Rockwell-esque paeans to Anglo-Saxon nostalgia that are popular with the septugenarian set. Take this particularly bad piece of art outside the Double-A Portland (ME) Seadogs stadium, sussed out by King Kaufman:

So it looks like Dad is trying to scalp his tickets and Junior is arguing with him, trying to persuade him to change his mind. I'm guessing Junior mouthed off one too many times. Mom, dressed in an '80s shift that looks like it came from the free box and looking heat exhausted, annoyed and put upon, patiently waits out the battle while Sissy struggles in her arms.

It looks like the national memorial for the Unknown Unhappy Family.

For my money, however, the worst public sculpture in baseball resides in Chicago, where Harry Carey lords over the tormented, wailing souls that occupy Wrigley Field (otherwise known as "Cubs fans"):

A special note to ASUO Executive candidates

If your campaign talking points stress the long extent of your experience in student government and lobbying on behalf of students; if your talking points go on about how well networked you are; and if you talk about your warm relationship with the current executive, you are decidedly not the "campaign for change."

Please brand appropriately.

Punk Rock Monday

In the grand scheme of things, Generation X were a bunch of lightweights in the punk rock universe, presaging the overly processed, coked-out butt-rock of the '80s. But that doesn't mean it's not fun to watch a young Billy Idol.

"Your Generation"


"New Order"

Bring on the major leagues

Well, it's official: I've been hired on as the campaign coordinator for Free Exchange on Campus and will begin at that job the last week in April. Needless to say, I'm excited. [Standard blog disclaimer: personal blog, blah blah blah; does not reflect the opinion of my employer, yadda yadda; reserve the right to call David Horowitz a moron on my own volition as a private citizen, etc. etc.].

The move to DC terrifies us right now. We have to figure out what we're going to do with our home here, find a place to occupy (rent or buy?) in the DC area, pay attention to school districts and access to public transportation, find out what ms. wobs will be doing, figure out where we'll relocate my sister-in-law, etc., etc. All of the standard issues that come out of a trans-continental migration, I suppose.

On the other hand, the move to DC is very ideal for us. Ms. wobs will be a train ride away from her friends in her beloved NYC, and most of my family is within a days drive in Tennessee (close enough for regular visits and maybe taking the l'il wobs off our hands every now and again, far enough to prevent drop-ins). We're also not crash-landing in a completely new city. It's a comfort (to me, at least), that I'll be at a job where I already know and respect many of the folks with whom I'll be working, and added to that, I have a plethora of friends from high school, college, and Eugene who live in DC, and a boatload more who live within a few hours drive.

All of this is tempered by the fact that I'm leaving Eugene, a place which I've lived for over a decade and have truly come to call home. And I'll especially miss the GTFF. I try not to use the term "comrade," as it's come to be something of a revolutionary cliché, but for those of you with whom I've worked closely in the union the past six years, I've really come to view you as comrades. I can't begin to describe the personal affection or professional commitment that I feel towards you. I've been lucky to work around some of the funniest, smartest, and honestly, the best leaders in the union movement, and I'm going to miss all of you. I mean, what other organization is going to send you off into the world with a photo montage and Malone singing Neil Diamond's "I Am, I Said" with lyrics especially made out for you? No other one - that was better than any parting gift I can imagine, absolutely perfect.

This isn't, of course, a good-bye to my favorite GTFF-ers. Not only am I going to be hanging around for a few more months, but I have every confidence that we'll continue to be seeing each other for a long, long time to come. Bonds like ours don't break easily, and let's face it, we work in the same field and will continue to move in the same circles. Couches will be crashed upon, alcohol will be consumed for the sake of old times, and maybe, just maybe, one day we'll be wreaking havoc as co-workers once again.

God help the world if that happens.

And your point is...

Would someone please explain to me why this is news?

Democrat Hillary Rodham Clinton has stepped off the presidential campaign trail for a few days, heading to the Dominican Republic to spend Easter weekend at the swank Punta Cana Resort and Spa.

She was joined by her husband, former President Bill Clinton, and their daughter Chelsea at the home of fashion designer Oscar de la Renta, a Dominican native...

I wouldn't crack the bubbly just yet

The WaPo has a piece on a drop in the unemployment rate, hitching the drop to rising employment in the construction industry:

Unemployment fell in March to 4.4 percent as a rebound in construction hiring helped the economy add 180,000 jobs over the month, a better showing than expected, the government reported today.

Which all sounds well and good, with the Post going on to add:

A downturn in the housing and automotive industries had prompted concern that the economy was slowing, leading some analysts to predict that the Fed would lower interest rates sometime this year to spur growth.

But today's job report makes that outcome less likely.

Makes that outcome less likely, eh? I think a lot of people are going to be in for an "oh shit" moment in the not too distant future (via Wolcott):

[T]he media has still not put together the collapse of the housing bubble and the permanent oil crisis. These events will be happening simultaneously. The housing industry, so-called, will never recover because the oil crisis spells the end of the suburban build out. The cycle is over. The big production homebuilders will go down and never come back. We won't need any more retail, either. We won't be building anymore WalMarts and Target stores, and the thousands now running will die off just as the giant Baluchitherium of the Asian steppes crapped out in the early Miocene epoch.

The end of the suburban build-out will be a stupendous trauma for the United States because, unfortunately, we have made it the basis of our economy for a generation, as well as our living arrangement. Not only will incomes and livelihoods be lost on the grand scale, and never come back, but, as the global oil predicament deepens, the existing fabric of our vast suburbs will become increasingly useless and worthless. The people stuck in them will lose whatever wealth they have accumulated and our arrangements for daily life will become increasingly nightmarish.
This is the part of the story that the mainstream media still can't put together. Peak oil and the housing bust are a mutually-reinforcing clusterfuck.

So let's not start patting each other on the back just yet.

What I did on my spring break

As promised, here are some nifty pics of our vacation to Puerto Vallarta last week (apologies to anyone reading this over dial-up - LOTS of pictures coming).

We stayed at a condo called Villa Blanca on La Playa Los Muertos - very cool architecture, and a little pool right outside our door, which made l'il wobs quite happy.





The city itself is stunningly beautiful, and we spent a fair amount of time just wandering around...











We ate good food...





L'il wobs, of course, has lots of trouble making friends...





Personally, my favorite part of the trip was our visit to Yelapa, a secluded little village accessible only by boat...









In sum, a lovely time was had by all...

Game on!

For the second day in a row, kos has a frontpage piece on DeFazio's possible Senate challenge to Gordon Smith. Question becomes, who do we have on the bench to replace the Faz in the House?

The other shoe

Poor ash - she's been so patient in dealing with my cryptical comments that I feel really awful leaving her in the dark, especially since everyone else, through the rumor mill to which they have access, has already figured things out.

So, without being too specific on the details (as the Official Word has yet to come down), I'm reasonably confident (knocking on wood) that I'll be taking a job in Washington, DC this summer and that this job will indeed involve stalking (but neither assaulting nor killing) one David Horowitz (cream-pies to the face are so 1990s). And if I'm really, really lucky, I'll be allowed to infiltrate the Freedom Center, for shits and giggles, natch.

I will, of course, be expecting visits from folks who may be visiting siblings in the area, not that I have anyone specific in mind.

Through the looking glass

I honestly have no idea where to begin with this latest Horowitz screed:

As I've pointed out many times, leftists and conservatives are not parallel political communities who happen to come down on different sides of particular issues. Leftists are religious fanatics who believe they are going to change the world. Therefore they look on their political opponents as evil and treat them accordingly. Conservatives are willing to give their opponents the benefit of the doubt (often far too generously) and when they make mistakes in characterizing individuals, they are ready and willing to correct them. Leftists presume the worst in their opponents and since their agenda is to eliminate them from any argument, they think nothing of smearing and defaming them, and inventing the "facts" to substantiate their smears.

So we've been the ones cramming our religious beliefs down the nation's throats and accusing our political foes of treason for the last six years? We've been the folks "joking" about poisoning Supreme Court justices who disagree with our views? We're the ones inventing "facts" to smear our opponents? Really?

Un-fucking-believable.

For uncle

Setting the bar for bling.

The race I've been waiting for, just when I'm ready to leave

Oh please, please, please!

Punk Rock Monday

Social Distortion may be the first punk band I ever heard, back in 1987. At the time I was a squirrely little seventh grader who was "allowed" to hang out at our neighborhood skate ramp with the cool ninth graders. One of the older kids, Paul K. (who had the cool Tony Hawk skateboard), was always nice enough to chat with us wee bairns, and I distinctly remember him telling us that Social Distortion was his favorite band. If it was cool enough for Paul, it was super cool for me.

From way back in the day (1983 is the guess), "Under My Thumb" and "1945"


And from the early 1990s, "Born to Lose"

Freckled, Rested, and Ready in '07

We're back in sunny (!!!) Eugene, and I must admit, the trip back was way less hellacious than I expected. Alaska Airlines gets major kudos for making international check-in in Puerto Vallarta super-easy (as opposed to the poor schleps who flew United and had to wait in line for one counter worker). And, having a two-year old gets you waved in front of long lines of people, simply because Mexicans love the little kids (which is probably lucky for l'il wobs, given how charmingly high-energy he is).

You can expect the whole photo-filled post later, as well as an extra-late PRM, and I'll be back to my usual blog-jinx in short order.