T-M-I from T-I-M

Whistleblower's rights...blow

I read an article Wednesday in the SF Chronicle (or as I've been known to refer to it...the "comical") about a recent Supreme Court decision that in essence allows government employees who blow the whistle on suspicious behavior to be punished for whistle-blowing. 

The case involves an LA prosecutor who claimed that a policeman had lied to obtain a search warrant.  After writing the memo, he was essentially re-assigned and denied a promotion.  It doesn't say whether, ultimately, the prosecutor was correct or not...certainly an important point it would seem.

The ruling basically allows the government to punish these whistleblowers by doing what they did.  Certainly understanding whether the claim was true ultimately is very important.

The first confusing thing was this quote:

"We reject, however, the notion that the First Amendment shields from discipline the expressions employees make pursuant to their professional duties,"

If the expression is pursuant to their professional duties, shouldn't that be exactly where the First Amendment comes into play. 

What further confused me was the fact that the according to the article (to loosely quote it) and analysis of the opinion, the possibility remains open that an employee, such as Ceballos, might be shielded by the 1st Ammend. if he acted as a "citizen" rather than in an official capacity, and took his complaints to a newspaper or a state legislator.

If that isn't totally confusing I don't know what is.  It's protectable to talk to the papers, but talk to your superiors and you'll be Serpico'd.

Sure is good to know that if something's amiss in the government, it may likely be ignored for fear of retribution.

Childhood friends

Recently, via email, I've re-connected to a very dear childhood friend named Daphne.  We knew each other basically from when I was about 7 through graduation (we went to the same high school).

I used to spend the night all the time at the family's house because I was also very close friends with her brother (a year younger) named Justin.  I considered the parents to be one of my 2 or 3 sets of quasi-adopted parents when I was a child.  The family always treated me with a great deal of respect and love.  (Interestingly, the few sets of parents that I did have that relationship with growing up had the ability to also set limits with me that I respected as if they were my Mom and Dad...probably in some ways because I knew my Mom and Dad would find out but also because I knew that they loved me....)

Anyway, what I find so rewarding is that I have been immediately able to connect with Daphne at a tender and meaningful level.  I won't say, exactly, that things "picked up right where they left off" because, really things have changed dramatically for both of us and that's cool.

I guess in the context of the world I exist in on a day to day basis and the variety of people that I meet every day it frequently feels like I have to ascertain agendas and understand motivations (unnecessarily in reality, I mean I'm perfectly willing to share my intention, if I think you are cute and you are interesting, then I would like to go on a date with you and that's that!).

When I connect with a select few people who have been in my life like Daphne (and a few others from childhood, high school and to a certain extent, college) in the way that I did, it's quite refreshing and heavenly I guess to feel the warmth, connection and innocence of love without conditions.

Ricky Bobby: The story of a man who could only count to #1

This weekend, my daughter and I went to check out Over the Hedge, the new animated film from Dreamworks.  (The animation is magnificent, the story is ok...the best line was a character acting like he was passing away looking at a rose bush saying "Rosebud" ala Citizen Kane...too funny!)

Anyway, after the film, she wanted to look at all of the movie posters of the upcoming films.  Fair enough, mostly modestly interesting stuff...until of course I ran into the poster for an upcoming movie starring Will Ferrell (and, as I've just found out Sasha Baron Cohen (Ali G)!!) called Talladega Nights:  The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.

Humorous enough as it is...with a picture of Ferrell looking tough in a full on racing costume (of course sort of unusually sponsored by Wonder Bread...which is just a little unusual).

The thing that gets me laughing even now when I think about it, is the tagline for the movie....:

The story of a man who could only count to #1.

I know it's the writers that make the difference, my suspicion is that Ferrell wrote that beauty.  If he didn't who cares, it's still totally hilarious.  I don't like racing at all, but will almost certainly go see this movie.

10 questions: Pat Robertson's 'roiding...you just KNOW it!!

I read this weekend that Pat Robertson, the religious broadcaster, claimed to have leg-pressed 2,000 pounds (yes an actual ton).  This feat was publicized by a totally objective source...the Christian Broadcaster Network. 

You know I believe in miracles, I really do.  And as I started writing this blog, I realized that it's time for another edition for 10 questions:

1. Can you think of a less relevant miracle to make up than some old, religious zealot leg pumping 2,000 pounds?
2. What end does this miracle acheive?
3. If he can do it once, why can't he do it again?
4. How can someone bench press a ton and then go "out of pocket" for the holiday weekend when people request an interview?
5. Why am I not surprised that he claims part of the reason he could do it was his revolutionary protein shake?
6. How much will they cost at his next appearance?
7. How much did he pay Victor Conte for the ingredients for said shake?
8. What type of machine actually holds a ton?  (I stole this one from the article)
9. If he is lying (which I think he is), how does it feel to be a liar?
10. If he's not, how does it feel to have everyone think you are?  (maybe there is a link between Pat Roberston and Barry Bonds after all....)

Gotta go and grab a protein shake for lunch...after stopping by the ATM to get $40 to buy one.

Praise the Lord!!!!

Protecting Bloggers' Sources

A very interesting story this weekend wherein a CA appeals court ruled that a blogger is entitled to protect his or her sources.  It stems from a case regarding someone leaking information to the blogging community from Apple Computer.

I think it's fascinating that the courts are bestowing the protection afforded by the First Ammendment and something called the California Shield Law (no confirmation that this actually relates to certain IUD's....ha!) to bloggers.  It most certainly ups the ante for any cocktail party discussions that you may be having with your company where you brazenly agree to be quoted on it.

I suppose we're eventually all going to have to have signs indicating whether we are "on" or "off" the record as we speak.  I sincerely hope that bloggers respect and understand the power of this designation.  My suspicion, however, is that it will be misused at some point and there will be a different set of rules set up in some way.

In the meantime, it grants an awful lot of power to the blogosphere.

Book Review: Game of Shadows

I suppose serendipitously enough (given Barry Bonds hitting #715 this weekend) I decided to read Game of Shadows:  Barry Bonds, BALCO and the Steroids Scandal that Rocked Professional Sports this weekend.  The book was written by the two reporters who broke the whole BALCO story (by a leak from the Grand Jury testimony I think...but they also had been following it before I believe).

It was a decent book.  A few things came across loud and clear to me:

1. Barry Bonds took steroids.  There is just way too much evidence to the contrary.  But as I've said before, who cares?  So did everyone else (including the pitchers).
2. Barry Bonds has been enabled all of his life.  No one ever stands up to him.  It's that very conditioning that makes him so apparently surly and rude.  I think it's just him being him.  Everyone (including him) is responsible for who he is now.
3. Track and Field is a complete sham.  I didn't really put it together until now but EVERYONE takes the juice.  And, like baseball, I guess, so what?  The thing about track is it makes everything they do for some reason so much more unattractive (sort of like every female German olympian in the last 20 or so years (except maybe Katarina Witt...).
4. Victor Conte is....well he's just ignorant but he's also brilliant.  He's a total show man who duped everyone around him.  The absolutely and unbelievably ignorant thing about him is his pervasive use of email and online bulletin boards to basically publicize everything that he was doing creating an easy paper trail around him....that is just plain ignorance.

It was an easy read with some interesting parts (Barry Bonds is particularly vicious according to this book dropping f-bombs like he's trying out for the next Quentin Tarantino movies) but not great.

Worth a read for any sports fan for sure.

Mr. Rogers goes to Washington

Talk about a fascinating 6 minute movie clip.  Check out Fred Rogers (he of the neighborhood) going in front of Congress and melting the heart of a fairly gruff politician and gettin' things done.

It's quite uplifting....

A really funny sign

Several years back I walked out of a wedding reception of some friends of mine at a Chinese restaraunt in SF and saw a sign that I thought was really funny.  It read:

Heaven is ...

Where the police are British,
The cooks are Italian,
The mechanics are German,
The lovers are French and
It's all organized by the Swiss.

Hell is ...

Where the police are German,
The cooks are British,
The mechanics are French,
The lovers are Swiss and
It's all organized by the Italians.

But it's not stereotypical or anything....ha!

Desmond Dekker & the Israelites

I read today that reggae musician Desmond Dekker died of a heart attack at the age of 64.  I don't know much about reggae music (outside of the number of tunes by Bob Marley which I love) but I do know that Desmond Dekker's song The Israelites is about as cool as it gets.

It's another example of the hundreds of different cool songs that my oldest brother Joe has introduced me to over the years (which include but aren't limited to Anarchy in the UK (Sex Pistols), Lust for Life (Iggy Pop), Gone Daddy Gone (Violent Femmes), I Need You (the Replacements & even Brazil (Frank Sinatra)...every one of them absolute classics).

Here are the lyrics, they don't so much jump off the page, but the song is irrestible the first time you hear it.  If you don't have it, download it, you won't be disappointed:

Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir,
so that every mouth can be fed.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.

Get up in the morning, slaving for bread, sir,
So that every mouth can be fed.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.

My wife and my kids, they are packed up and leave me.
Darling, she said, I was yours to be seen.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.

Shirt them a-tear up, trousers are gone.
I don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.

After a storm there must be a calm.
They catch me in the farm. You sound the alarm.
Poor me, the Israelite. Aah.

Poor me, the Israelite.
I wonder who I'm working for.
Poor me, Israelite,
I look a-down and out, sir.

Infant Artists...Beauty Without Reference?

Last night I contemplated what suffering produces in the context of art.  It got me to...well....contemplating (yes I'm a contemplative fellow) on a related topic.

Wouldn't it be cool if brand new babies could write books or music, paint or sculpt, sing, etc.?

What do you think they would create?

I believe that what would flow from their hearts would be the warm and undeniable connection they create when they roll down the street in their strollers.  Watch when a stroller rolls by, the love just gracefully floats like a light chasing any darkness away that it encounters (even if Mommy or Daddy is navigating with one hand and chattering on a cell with the other).

Somehow, I think that a brand new infant would intuitively know how to capture the Om (as best I can explain it, the loving, connecting sound that vibrates throughout the universe) in ways that we know and would quickly remember but for whatever reason, we've forgotten.  It seems that the beauty that arises from art that I see is often referenceable in the context of how life is suffering and because of that I see something in the piece that resonates with me.

For example, one of my favorite pictures is the one where there is a small boy and small girl in a meadow in summer outfits on a beautiful day.  The boy is handing the girl a flower.  It always touches me deeply.

Is it beautiful because of the yearning for innocence lost?  Is it beautiful because it's what we "could" be?  Is it beautiful because of a possible relationship I missed?

Or maybe, as I so infrequently consider, that it's beautiful because it's beauty.

Which reminds me, one night around Christmastime, Zoe and I had decorated a little Xmas tree in our house (by the way, when did Christ become X?).  As evening arrived, the apartment was getting darker and I decided to turn the Christamas tree lights on and the apartment lights off.  I sat back down and each of us went back to whatever it was we were doing (my bet I was reading, she was coloring...). 

When she noticed the lights, she sat down in front of the tree.  She was quiet for a few moments, which drew my attention.  Before I said anything she said:  "Daddy, it's so beautiful."

I remember being at a loss as to how to respond.  I mumbled something like "You're right honey, it is beautiful" as I choked back (unnecessarily I suppose) tears.

She still is in touch with the idea of admiring beauty for beauty's sake and I believe that it is that loving nature that is the muse for every brand new infant artist.  They wouldn't look for approval from anyone on their art.  They wouldn't worry about what's right or wrong about their art.  They would quietly adore the beauty in each other's work, in each other's hearts for the beauty's sake.

Wouldn't that be cool to see?