Twenty thousand Texans' fans can't be wrong

Football season is here again. I have been thinking about the Houston Texans since last year when I saw the red shirts in the stands. The image has haunted for some time. Five minutes ago, I finally found evidence, on Ebay, for what I saw. Ebay won't let me paste the image into this post.

It was almost impossible to find anything on the "paint the town red" t-shirts by Halliburton. I noticed them, while watching Monday Night Football, the shirts were given to thousands of Texans fans, for the franchises battle red promotion, before the game in Houston on December 1st, 2008. The Texans were all red like devils. The crowd in red, a camera panned by a guy in a red shirt with white letters that said, “paint the town red” with “Halliburton” under it. Halliburton is the biggest contractor in Iraq. They really “painted the town red”--with blood. Its possible the irony was lost on thousands who wore them, maybe to who conceived them. But more likely, it was drummed up with precision by a marketing staff snickering all the way to the blood bank.

I wish I had a freeze frame picture of a fan in a shirt, because l wanted to reaffirm what I had seen. I found these comments on the message board of Uniwatch, a sports uniform blog. #148 Chance wrote,

The problem with the red Texans uniforms - aside from the fact that they look like ketchup bottles - is that the whole thing is a corporate sponsorship boondoggle (and the corporation in question also happens to be a war profiteer):

#187 Justin H wrote,

Just thought I would share that the 'paint the town red shirts' the Texans fans were wearing have 'Halliburton' in HUGE letters on the bottom of the shirt. That's not logo creep, that is logo curb-stomp.

Obviously those two saw the problem with the shirts. But not this guy, a blogger at the game:

The "battle red" uniforms looked really nice, and were complimented well with "paint the town red" t-shirts given to the crowd (courtesy of Halliburton) so that we could "red out" the stadium and intimidate the road team. Judging from how poorly Jacksonville played, I don't think we needed it but at least I got a souvenir.

The irony was lost on that guy, who was at the game, rocking the shirt. The point is that those three guys in the comments section of an obscure sports uniform blog was confirmation that I was not hallucinating and actually saw the amazingly ignorant and mean spirited shirts.

I thought that a newspaper, webzine, or sports blog would have popped up with an article about the red shirts. It seemed like a no-brainer, but I have yet to find any traditional reporting on this story. The message board on a niche blog was basically the only way I could prove what I had seen and have some kind of human connection or confirmation that, yes those shirts were fucked up and I was not the only one to notice how insensitive and stupid it was to make them. And who knows what it means that so many Texans fans wore them.

Things that get lost between the lines of news reporting sometimes are picked up by blogs, which is good because without that, important cultural landmarks would be passed by as if they had not happened. But the real point is the organic nature of message boards. I find myself paying closer attention to the comments section than the article it self.

Note to Obama: Fight like a panther

It is 7 in the morning and I look out the window to gaze at the gray sky, is almost white and blinding. This is the kind of city where the sun never comes up and never goes down and the horizon is met by never-ending gray. The cars are zooming by my window, a diesel motor is spitting as they tend to do, but instead of a car it is strapped to a man’s back: the leaf blowers are out. Like the machine gun man in The Predator movie mowing down a section of jungle with the pull of the trigger, the leaf blower man shoots dust and debris all over the street, moving it from one lot to the next, in constant motion for no reason. The haze of diseased material won’t go away, it just moves. Like a drunk wandering from one bar to the next all day. Existing, but not moving forward. Just being blown around by the fuel power, the liquid courage. Aha. Did I just hit the nail on the head? Surely sounds like it. Stumbled upon it of course. Now lets get down to business.

In The Scotsman Samantha Power, Mr. Obama's key foreign policy aide called Hillary, “A Monster...” because she had stooped so low in her attacks. What pisses me off is that today Power resigned from the Obama campaign probably because the Clinton’s called for her to be fired for the comments. Why? Who cares. She called Clinton a monster, she is a monster with eyes bulging and looking so desperate all the time, so tight faced, she looks like a balloon ready to pop.

No interpersonal skills to speak of. For some time now I have thought maybe she is some kind of speed freak. Her eyes are so big, Is she on Meth? Her face so tight. Remember 2004 when people piled on Kerry about possible botoxing? Well its 2008 and Hillary is definitely filled to the top with botox, look at her forehead, it looks like a clay teapot.

Larry David posted something on Huffingtonpost.com today and I think he keys in on something that we have all been seeing, but maybe people are too afraid to call her out on it. This is an interesting paragraph from the post:

How is it that she became the one who's perceived as more equipped to answer that 3 a.m. call than the unflappable Obama? He, with the ice in his veins, who doesn't panic when he's losing or get too giddy when he's winning, who's as comfortable in his own skin as she's uncomfortable in hers. There have been times in this campaign when she seemed so unhinged that I worried she'd actually kill herself if she lost. Every day, she reminds me more and more of Adele H., who also had an obsession that drove her insane.

Indeed. She seems to be completely unhinged to me. Scratching and clawing at the White House door like a sick puppy. Constantly pacing, nothing moving fast enough and no satisfaction ever. I thought with age came wisdom. I thought you learned to be a bit more philosophical. Veteran athletes force it less with more experience, don’t throw the ball away as much, live for another play. Brett Favre is old as McCain and in the playoffs this year executed precision shovel passes vs. the Seattle Seahawks in the midst of a blizzard at Lambeau Field. The Great Favre retired yesterday, but still kept repeating, “I know I can still play.”

I am not so sure Hillary ever learned how to play, never calmed down enough to be herself and confident with it, still trying to get her father’s approval. She has actually talked about and been pretty open with the public about her lifelong struggle of living up to her father’s idea of success. That is a skeleton in her closet, that may haunt her until the end.

Who cares what anyone thinks? Do whatever the fuck you want and don’t apologize to anyone for it. Family or friends. Be yourself.

Note to Obama: I know you are above the fray, cool, calm and collected, distinguished and academic, cut from a John Kerry cloth. I support you I just wish you would get a little bit more mad sometimes. Stand up and hit back. Or the least you could do is not fire or “let go” or “accept the resignation” of a campaign aide that is fighting back for you. Especially one hour after your rival The Clinton’s complained. They are the last people to be whining about attacks.

Note from the Editor: I was just thinking about this today...He is too focused on cleaning up America to be bothered with the pettiness of dirty politics, but isn’t that his appeal? Peace.

I took the pictures of the Obama posters under the Ballard Bridge.

The West is the best

“When I was a little boy I would take a bread knife out of the kitchen door and fantasize about cutting my cheek and having a scar on my face like one of the twin Cobra brothers in G.I. Joe.” - Id the Squid

Every boy who grows up in the West fantasizes about violence and war. Prince Harry is no different. That is why he went to Afghanistan. Now, Prince Harry is back in England and needs a haircut. I saw some footage on CNN about Harry in Afghanistan, the Americans had just arrived, “Now everything is alright in the Empire” Harry quipped. The Sun said Prince William might go as well. The whole thing is ridiculous.

Has anyone seen the movie: In the Valley of Elah? Jesus Fucking Christ...the movie hits the nail on the head. War fucks you up! Hello? Everyone knows that. We are not in some barbaric age where soldiers are heroes and have balls of steel. Fuck. These guys go to war. Run over a fucking toddler in a Humvee. Lose their innocence.

Start dehumanizing every Iraqi by calling them all the same name “Hadji” just like “Charlie” in Vietnam. Torture for fun. And turn into psycho killers. Come home. Kill puppies. Kill wife. Then kill best friends.

Indeed Kill Em All. It all happens in that order. And the sick thing is that it is understandable. When you are trained to kill you are paid to dehumanize a population. You are left to deal with this inhumane way of life all by yourself inside your own private hell. Sounds like any normal person would go fucking nuts even with a million hours of therapy from Dr. Phil.

Sounds real heroic John McCain, you fucking prick. He may bomb Iran and he may bomb Kosovo-- fuck he might just bomb Moscow, Russia and Moscow, Idaho just for good measure. So send the Royal Family of England, yeah...Ok, where do we go from here Bobo? We are Royally Fucked. Why fuck up the prince as well?...I mean I understand the peasants always go to die like dogs in the desert, but now the future king of England wants to get in on the action. Did he watch American Psycho and decide “Fuck Yeah! Lock and Load Baby.” Well Whoopee Fucking Doo. It must have been all the generations of inbreeding that made these geniuses want to kill some ragheads, huh.

Ok for now. I will be back later.

Last night I was talking on the phone with my friend Robbie. He has been involved in grass roots politics for most of his life. He asked me how I was doing and who I was voting for this year. “Obama.” I said. “But, I don’t necessareally think he will deliver on his promises or change much, he seems to be pretty middle of the road policy-wise. I think he could get the most out of the American people and we need an inspirational leader to lift up the general mood of the country. What about you?”

Robby said, “I am in the same boat as you Reed. This reminds me of the 1960 election where Kennedy was an elequent man, but the people pushed him to do things and that is why I am supporting Obama. He seems to be the most likely to listen and be persuaded by public opinion...you know because Bush doesn’t give a shit.” “Yeah Bush doesn’t give a flying fuck.” I said.

“Jacob's getting home soon.” I said. “Yeah on the 19th. We are going to be watching a lot of the NCAA Tournament.” Robby said. “I’ll see you soon then.” And I hung up the phone. C’est la vie.

I took the picture at the I-5 South Roanoke Exit.

Couple of old war birds

As I lit a blunt last 4th of July two friends of mine who were not smoking weed at the time started moaning because they could not take a puff. Bryce was in trouble with the law and was being drug tested and Cod took some time off to find a job and stopped smoking in case of a urine analysis. Long time potheads not taking part in a blunt was a weird feeling for them and Cod remarked that they were a couple of “Old War Birds” because they had been through many battles with the weed. Battle Tested and Battle Hardened.

Which brings me to the Old War Bird John McCain and what he said today. “I have some news: Al Qaeda is called Al Qaeda Iraq and Al Qaeda is in Iraq.” Barack Obama fired back. “I have news for John McCain: Al Qaida was not in Iraq until George Bush and John McCain invaded Iraq.” That may not be the two exact quotes, but it is the balls of each. It looks like McCain is geared up to tangle with Obama for the next year, but we won’t know that until March 4 when the results for Texas, Vermont, Rhode Island and Ohio will be known.

Obama and McCain will be a sharper contrast than Clinton and McCain because I see McCain as Budweiser and Clinton as Bud Light and I don’t think that will work. Or Republican Light always loses vs. Republican. No more of the lesser of two evils: We need something to believe in. Last night in the 20th debate between Obama and Clinton, she finally said she would take back her Iraq War Vote after Tim Russert asked her what she regretted.

A few weeks ago when Hillary was still the perceived frontrunner, Matt Taibbi said on Bill Maher’s HBO show, “70% of the country is against the war and we have two pro war candidates, that shows you how fucked up the system is.” That was a keen observation by Taibbi. He can be right on, but he can also come across as a super-cynical-smartest-kid-in-class type, which I have also read him make fun of himself for. You know that guy that was brought up with a multicultural education but, never actually had diversity in his life; listened to rap but, didn’t know any black people. He wrote an article called The Obama Moment and sounded like he had finally got the Obama bug. He sounded more hopeful than I had ever heard him. But then he flipped the script after the Nevada debate and was disappointed with Obama’s performance calling him a “straw man.” I think Taibbi wanted more of a fiery guy up there but, Obama is not quick to get that way even when he is pushed. Last night Tim Russert and Brian Williams asked him about Minister Farrakhan’s support of his campaign and they also brought up the picture of him in traditional Somali garb that the Clinton’s brought out and Obama did not get defensive. He was cool and absorbed it.

To be an Obama supporter you still must have a little bit of the innocence of a boy wonder. . . still dreaming with hope for what might be able to happen. Hope in humanity and the ability to still think about the unknown. What if? The walls close in very quickly when hope is out the window. Many smart people decided to invade Iraq. And some of my smartest friends think it is the most worthless thing ever to vote. And 40% of the population has agreed over the years. And it is hard to argue against a statistic like that. . . maybe they are right. I have thought many times through my life, “maybe I am the dumb one or part of the dumb. . . ” To think that we as a nation of peasants will sway the powerful.

George Carlin has publicly said he has not voted since McGovern in 1972 and I just read something recently where he was very pleased to watch this Obama story unfold but, he was still not going to vote. He sits on the sidelines and is skeptical that even an Obama presidency would change anything. I agree that it may not change a thing. He [Obama] may not deliver on anything he has been talking about but, to me it is not the point. Obama’s job is to inspire, to lift the country’s spirits. We must do the work individually in our own lives; one man can’t change everything, but he may be able to change the attitude. I can’t agree with Carlin about sitting on the sidelines. To be a human in the community of humans everyone has a responsibility to participate. You don’t have to, no one is going to put a gun to your head, but I think you should as a the little boy idealist I am. Citizen Journalist, Boy Wonder Journalist.

Maybe by not participating in the system that is the biggest loudest way to say “I don’t agree with what is happening to our country.” But, that is a bleak way to go. I prefer to look at this way: "Something is happening in America something some of us did not see coming." Those are the words of John Lewis Democratic Rep. from Georgia who helped lead the March on Selma. He was a Clinton supporter and just defected to Obama.

I took the picture of Bat Cheney under the Southbound I-5 bridge next to Lake Union near Ivar's Salmon House.

Man with the master plan to rebuild Afghanistan

“That was just a dream, that's me in the corner...” - R.E.M. “Losing My Religion”

Indeed. And Mitt Romney must feel that way tonight Tuesday February 5, 2008. He just dropped out of the race to lead the GOP. The Man from Michigan is not used to losing and you could see it in his face for his concession speech this morning. He said, “I don’t like losing...” with kind of a sheepish smile. I can imagine a man like Mitt gets his way most of the time. What does he do now? He made boatloads of money bringing companies back from the brink making the tough cuts for the bottom line. It may not be just a cynical view but also partially accurate to always think that money buys power and power corrupts and corruption is tough on the soul. When the soul is in danger, judgment and integrity slip away in a mountain of tweaked decisions and the water becomes murky.

That is what Mitt was known for. The Ultimate Flip Flopper, his convictions blew away with the wind for so much of his life, that he probably didn’t know what to do when put into a corner by a guy like McCain, with temper, sort of blunt by nature and always able to have the whole Vietnam POW card in his back pocket at all times. After Bush destroyed McCain in the SC primary of 2000, I thought McCain was a goner; never to seek the presidency again, but he is an interesting man of ideology and conviction and no matter what those types always do better in the game of life. A rich man is only as rich as his belief in self. Who he his. Who he was. And who he will become. Mitt was the worst thing you could be in his world: a Massachusetts Liberal. The Governor of the gayest state in the Union and he tried to run to the right. War, Guns, and Religion. When you reach too far, usually the outcome is a bit messy.

Like a painter on a high ladder reaching too far to one side in order get the end of a peak. Sometimes you get it. Other times you get that feeling that it is not worth dying for and go back down and figure out the better way. Then again the greed can overpower your better judgment and you go for it and end up in a full body cast.

Two summers ago I was working for a general contractor, a friggin drunk who never tied the ladders off, nor used gas masks while mixing cement, or painting with lacquer in a basement with no ventilation. He never used a harness while roofing and general safety was completely out the window. He was just waiting for the first drink at noon everyday, which to me was not bad it was actually a fun crew to work on and I still have a soft spot both Andy the General Contractor and Angelo the Journeyman, even though they were both dumb and bloated blowing through life. Angelo introduced cocaine to me. And the first time I ever did the drug was in the bathroom at the legendary Seattle bar: Blue Moon. Which is interesting in itself because it was right around the corner from Layne Staley’s apartment where he was found dead in 2001. Late Layne, obviously the lead singer of Alice in Chains. One coincidental fact of my life as a Seattle native is that I was working selling tickets in the ticket booth across the street from Layne’s apartment at Metro Theaters when the news broke of his death. I sat one Saturday morning reading The Seattle P-I front page news of his death, taking sips of my coffee and gazing across the street at the nothing-special green building behind a Kinko’s Copy Center, Marines Recruitment Center and a Money Tree Money Lender...The body had been lifeless for two weeks and the only reason anyone checked up on him is because his bank noticed no transactions for two weeks, which is not normal for anyone who is frequently ingesting speedballs. AIC was always my favorite band from the Seattle dominated 1990’s.

Two years before Kurt Cobain died the same day and I was driving in front of his house on Lake Washington Blvd. When the news broke that morning on my way to school my junior year of high school. I asked my dad questions about why Cobain would do that the rest of the ride. Those two moments will always be landmarks in my life. And I have always felt a sort of kinship with them both because I was there...sort of like Staind’s Aaron Lewis, who no doubt was most influenced by Staley and who’s child Zoe Jane was born the day Staley died. There is no such thing as coincidence or happenstance. And yes, I got a little off track here for a moment with a quick flash from my past. But I think I had a point somewhere in this gibberish.

Ah, yes Angelo and I were standing on some rickety-ass makeshift scaffolding and we couldn’t quite reach the top of the roof where we needed to install a vent and some more siding, but it just wasn’t working and the rain was coming down. Angelo was yelling at me cause he thought he was going to get electrocuted because we were using a Sawzal: electric saw that looks like a rifle. And conditions were getting worse. He was frustrated and couldn’t quite reach what he needed to. I said, “Fuck it come down we will do it when it stops raining.” He was pissed and kept saying he was gonna die. He wanted to stay and get the job done no matter what.

I said “$15 an hour was not worth dying for.” We did not finish that day.

I took this picture along Lake Washington Blvd. in the Arboretum.