Friday Random 10

Robert Plant & Allison Krauss - Gone, Gone, Gone
Burial - Near Dark
Shriekback - Nemesis
Friends of Dean Martinez - Wichita Lineman
Blessing - Bleach Cake
Thin White Rope - Some Velvet Morning
Social Distortion - Drug Train
X - Nausea
Menahan Street Band - Tired of Fighting
Siouxsie & the Banshees - The Passenger

Bonus video below the fold...

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Wednesday Wildflowerblogging

Common Madia (Madia elegans) in the Illilouette Creek drainage, Yosemite National Park.

Cohen Ready for Closeup, Mr. DeMille

Shorter Richard Cohen:

Michael Moore Barack Obama is fat fit.

You see, this is Richard Cohen's life! It always will be! Nothing else!

Monday Movie Review: Withnail and I

Withnail & I (1987) 10/10
Withnail (Richard E. Grant) and Marwood (Paul McGann) are unemployed actors in 1969, living in drunken squalor. Overwhelmed by London, Marwood persuades Withnail to convince his wealthy uncle Monty (Richard Griffiths) to loan them the key to his summer cottage so they can take a holiday. Written and directed by Bruce Robinson.

This movie is absolutely deranged. Surreal, appalling, hilarious, extraordinary, and deranged.
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For ten years now, I've spent time on the IMDb message boards. One of its joys is learning about movies from real experts on the subject. At some point in my participation, I noticed that Withnail & I, a movie I had never heard of, kept showing up on people's lists of favorites. This is exactly the way to find great movies; I am rarely disappointed.

Almost everyone describes this movie in terms of the holiday that Withnail and Marwood take, but the funniest stuff may well be the long sequence before they leave London; their spin into insane despair that drives them to Monty. Withnail has to be pushed pretty hard to visit relatives, and he is; by no money for food, a filthy home that may well have alien creatures growing in the sink, and a relatively normal flatmate nonetheless driven to "the fear" by cold, drink, hunger, drugs, and city life. None of which sounds even remotely funny (and surely living it would not be), which is why Richard E. Grant's performance is nothing short of brilliant. The movie is held together by his posed, abrasive mania; at the point where he's rubbing his body head to toe in Deep Heat because they're cold and haven't paid the heating bill, half-naked, green-skinned, shouting for BOOZE!, you know you're on a wild ride and it's time to just let go and let it take you away.

The actors are funny, the dialogue is hilarious, but the vision is relentlessly dark. And really, I enjoy this; these are young fools carrying a strange combination of cynicism and idealism that in no way equips them for real life. At the country home, everything appears to be falling apart; they still have no food, the rain is ceaseless, the neighbors are rude. When Monty arrives, suddenly the countryside is green and beautiful; it's as though these guys have brought their own clouds with them. They're very funny clouds, but I so admire Robinson's commitment to his vision; he's not sweetening these men or this situation to make it more palatable. In fact, what makes this movie so great is how entirely unpalatable it all is.

Quite simply, any movie with the line "Don't threaten me with a dead fish" is a movie worth watching.

(I DEMAND SOME CROSS-POST)

Sunday Sierrablogging

The Sierra Crest from Adair Lake after a late afternoon thunderstorm, Yosemite National Park.

Spirit of '76

Shorter Peggy Noonan: "Gin! Methinks they'll tax gin!"

East Coast Friday Random Ten

Kool & the Gang, "Jungle Boogie" Pulp Fiction
Eels, "My Timing is Off" Hombre Lobo
Ed's Redeeming Qualities, "Someone Else in the Room" It's All Good News
Tom Waits, "Step Right Up" Small Change
Bjork, "All Neon Like" Homogenic
Mose Allison, "Night Club" Best of Mose Allison
Smog, "Goldfish Bowl" Wild Love
Kristen Hersh, "Fog" Sky Motel
Bon Iver, "Re: Stacks" For Emma, Forever Ago
Modest Mouse, "Ionizes and Atomizes" This is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About

Bonus: John Hammond, Jr. "Shore Leave" Wicked Grin

Sorry for the delay. Thought I'd give Shiltone a chance to grab the front page. Please play along in comments.

Update: I've added a good video below the fold.
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Alabama ABC Board Censoring Wine Labels

Apparently a wine label based on an 1895 bicycle advertisement is just too risqué for the delicate sensibilities of Alabama residents. Or so says the ABC Board, which has deemed it "immodest" and demanded that the wine bottles be removed from bars and grocery stores.

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Bob Martin, staff attorney with the Alabama Alcoholic Beverage Control Board, said the ABC's licensing bureau deemed the label inappropriate last year.

The French painter G. Massias produced this bicycle advertising poster in 1895. A wine with a label featuring the poster has been banned from sale in the state of Alabama because it features a person "posed in an immodest or sensuous manner."

"It was submitted twice last year, and it was rejected both times," Martin said. Early this month, however, a citizen sent a bottle of the wine to the ABC board to show it was still being sold in stores, he said. So, the board's enforcement bureau sent a letter to stores and restaurants statewide, reminding them that its sale was prohibited, Martin said.

Oh, good grief -- somebody tattled? When are we going to grow up in this state? It's already illegal to sell sex toys; now we're banning wine labels with what I'd venture to call tasteful depictions of nudity? All for the sake of the children, I guess. Hey, maybe we should ban field trips to art museums too. Or take away their mirrors when they reach puberty.

And just to add to the creepy:

Several restaurant owners, retailers and distributors declined comment when contacted Thursday by the Press-Register. Licenses to sell or serve alcoholic beverages are renewed yearly, with applications due by Aug. 1.

Gee, I wonder why they were afraid to declined to comment.

Busy

Trivia!

Character trivia again this week.

Happy Moon Landing Day!

Forty years ago, the first human walked on the moon. I was nine years old at the time, too young to recognize what a remarkable achievement that was -- hey, anything's possible when you're nine -- but old enough to think it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen.

I was in junior high when I met my first moon landing deniers, 7th grade boys who were convinced that the whole thing had been faked somewhere in the desert. (Wow, did it ever disturb me to find the linked story when I googled the term. Who'da thunk they'd still be around?) Having cut my teeth - or at least some of my molars - on Star Trek, I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to deny that milestone on the road to exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilizations, and going boldly where no human has gone before.

Enjoy the celebration, everyone, and if you happen to run across a denier...well, don't punch him in the face or kick him in the rear, à la Buzz Aldrin or Ed Mitchell, just shake your head in sadness that anyone would want to miss out on the wonder and joy of such a feat. And then go back to the chillbump-inducing footage of one small step...

Monday Movie Review: The Rocky Horror Picture Show

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) 9/10
The movie: Frank-N-Furter (Tim Curry) is a transvestite pansexual from the planet Transsexual in the galaxy of Transylvania in the classic rock-and-roll cult movie.
The live show: Fans go to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show (RHPS) live and experience a "shadowcast" (a group of performers mimicking the on-screen action), lines shouted at the screen, props thrown during the film (rice during the wedding, for example), and other direct interactions with the film.

Look, a lot of people think RHPS is a bad movie, enjoy it in a so-bad-it's-good way, and assume that the whole point is the cult experience. I have always contended that it's a good movie. It suffers from a low budget in some places, and thrives on the same low budget in others. The music is outstanding, the performers are dynamic and thrilling. Sure, the ending's a downer and there's a middle section that drags after you've seen it a dozen times, but so what? Setting aside the cult experience, RHPS works as a musical, it works as a celebration of hedonism, and it works as a campy love letter to a life obsessed with the movies.
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On Saturday night I went to the Legends of Rocky Horror Reunion, because yes, I was there way back when. From the perspective of returning to the musical after many years, it was both wonderful and disappointing.

Disappointing only because some of the changes are for the worst. RHPS can be a rowdy and even unpleasant experience. In many theaters, the shouting at the screen drowns out the film. At the Eighth Street Playhouse, we prided ourselves on being the original and best, and our lines were carefully timed, in unison, and allowed for you to pay attention at the movie—in an enhanced way. If there's too much shouting, you can't hear the movie, and we avoided that. Nowadays, New York is just one more theater, and sometimes your ability to watch the movie is totally drowned out.

On the other hand, the good, enhancing kind of audience participation is superb. It's amazing that it's still happening more than thirty years later, and that a lot of it is fresh and new. Sure, people still say "Where's your fucking neck?" like they did in 1977, but they also do and say things that are completely 21st century. That are fun.

One thing that Rocky Horror did in the '70s is allow a group of weirdos to find each other. Now people mostly find each other on the Internet, don't they? How much need is there for face-to-face affiliation with like minded oddballs? At RHPS this week, I discovered that the joys of hanging out and being strange are undiminished.

(Where's your fucking cross-post?)

Sunday Sierrablogging

The Clark Range and Mt. Starr King from the Yosemite Falls trail. In less than an hour I'm heading up to Yosemite, and at the cracko tomorrow I begin a six-day backpacking trip into the Clark Range.

Trinity Alps Trip Report: Part 2

Part 1

Next day, with a leisurely start, we still got moving by about 6:30 am. Originally, the plan was to head to Diamond Lake today, then to Deer Lake the following day--basically adding the Four Lakes Loop onto the Anna Lake loop. After talking with Don and Griff about the limited campaing and Deer and Diamond, we decided to camp two nights at Summit Lake instead, and do the Four Lakes Loop as a dayhike.

In theory, this was an easier day than day 1: less mileage, much less gain. We headed south from Lake Anna and up the low ridge (dodging some lingering snowfields), then down to Billy Be Damn Lake. So far, so good. More...


Circling Billy Be Damn on the west made me a little nervous, sidehilling on steepish and very loose slopes (on the right, above), and for some reason it seemed more difficult than it normally would. We caught up with a use trail that traversed over to a steep but straightforward gully (more loose stuff) up to the notch.

Here's where it got...interesting.

The other side was a steep chute with extremely loose gravel, scree, and a few talus-sized rocks that could really cause some damage if they got moving. Lou went down first, and I gave him plenty of space before I started down myself. At which point, flailing my way down this mess, I realized I had pretty much lost my mountain legs. Still recovering from the day before, I was unsteady on my feet on a slope that was unstable to begin with--decidedly sub-optimal. Eventually I made my way down to where I could get out of the scree chute and onto terra firmer, and then continued the descent to Echo Lake.



On the way down, we got our first views of the Granite Trinities--quite a contrast with the assorted metamorphics of our part of the range (the 'Red Trinities'). One of the things that impressed me about this area was the amazing variety of landscapes within a fairly compact range.

We caught up with the trail just before Little Stonewall Pass, ending the off-trail portion of the trip. The pass is a very short climb, then a switchbacking descent to a level traverse through open forest above Lower Siligo Meadow. Lots of Phlox in this section, and a fair amount of Flax. Paintbrush, Red Heather, Cinquefoil--all the usual stuff. Not as spectacular as Bowerman Meadows, but here and for the rest of the trip there were consistently plenty of wildflowers to look at.



Soon we reached the near edge of lower Upper Siligo Meadow. The trail has been rerouted around the meadow here--good for the meadow, and good for us, since it looked pretty boggy in places. Skirting the meadow on the west, we came around to the north side and started up the riser to the upper Upper meadow. Only 200' or so of climbing, but somehow it seemed endless. I think this is where we realized how much the morning's cross-country, and the previous day's workout, had taken out of us.

Another brief bit of level walking through upper Upper Siligo Meadow, then another 200' or so of switchbacking ascent to Deer Creek Pass.



At this point, we were getting pretty tired--still recovering from the day before. Not too happy, then, about the drop from Deer Creek Pass, knowing we had to make it all back and more. From here to Summit Lake it was a long traverse through a shadeless moonscape of talus and sparse brush, plus a few extra-extra-long switchbacks up to the ridgeline; I can't complain about the grade, but I can complain about the distance. Along the way I did spot a tiny stand of Copeland's Speedwell, a rare species limited to the Klamath Mountains. Still: hot and tired, and still climbing.

Finally we came out at the ridgetop--no, actually, there were still two more hidden switchbacks, as if to mock us--and then we came out at the ridgetop and got our first views of Summit Lake. A painless descent on the spur trail, and we were there. We set up at a spacious campsite with some excellent sitting rocks and a good firepit just a little bit south of the trail's end. Summit isn't as strikingly beautiful as the lakes we had seen so far, but it's pretty enough; the delicate pink Lewisia growing all around us brightened things.

Another lazy afternoon; a game of Scrabble and a game of cribbage, both of which Lou won, and happy hour, where everyone's a winner. After dinner Lou built a roaring fire (or, in his phrase, caveman television). And then to bed.



Next morning we slept in until nearly 6 am. (Because we could. So there.) After a leisurely breakfast, we secured our food in the bear canister and started out on the day's hike.

First on the agenda was summiting Siligo Peak. It's a pretty easy walk-up; we started straight up the slope from the Summit Lake trail junction, and headed up toward a notch in the ridge. At the notch we picked up a use trail that got us through the brush on the higher slopes. From the trail it took us maybe 25 minutes to the top.



Siligo isn't the highest thing around (~8,160 or so), but the big valleys that surround it open up tremendous views of the whole Trinity Alps area: Middle Peak to the southeast, Gibson to the east, Deer Creek Valley and Seven Up Peak to the northeast, and the whole solid line of the Granite Trinities to the west.

Coming down, we got into a tangle of use trails for a while but found our way back to the gap, from which the original use trail took us straight down to the trail at the Deer Creek/Summit saddle.

Next up: Diamond Lake, on a bench over looking the Stuart Fork canyon; the pictures of Diamond had motivated me to check out this part of the Trinities in the first place. It did not disappoint. Descending to the lake, every switchback is another spectacular view; along the trail, lots of Mountain Mint, Western Blue Flax, and Wallflower.



Down at the lake, we wandered over to the outlet area to check out the view. Lush (slightly boggy) meadows, with Corn Lilies, Bog Orchids, and Reed Lilies providing vertical punctuation, against a backdrop of classic alpine granite. Only one campsite at the lake, though, which is one of the reasons we decided to do it on a dayhike instead of camping here.

Back on the trail and a gentle forested climb up to the ridge above Luella Lake, then a long descent in which Luella never seems to get any closer until you're almost there. From the lake down to the floor of Deer Creek Valley is the best wildflower display since Bowerman Meadows: Scarlet Gilia, Larkspur, Paintbrush, Yellow Lupine, Stonecrop everywhere.



Climbing up from the bottom of Deer Creek Valley, we couldn't help but be conscious of how much more arduous it would have been with packs on. We stopped for lunch about 2/3 of the way up to Deer Lake, then resumed climbing. We came out at Deer lake and hit the shoreline and...clouds of gnats. Gnats that would land on us and die. In great numbers. It wasn't like they were biting or anything, but it was kind of creepy.

Starting up from the far end of Deer Lake we passed through a garden of Western Pasque Flower, smaller versions of which I had seen at Lake Anna. When these go to seed they look like big fluffy mops; one guidebook suggests that they were the inspiration for Truffula Trees.

The least fun part of the day was revisiting the long, long traverse and switchbacks we had done before. Much easier without packs, though. We got into camp around 1:30 pm and had the rest of the afternoon to be lazy. Reading, happy hour, dinner, fire, etc.; all in all, one exceptionally fine day in the mountains.


And up at 4:49 the next morning for the hike out; figuring it would get hot in the low country, we wanted as early a start as possible. We were hiking shortly after 6 am, and made good progress, hitting Bee Tree Gap after an hour. Upper Long Canyon is lovely, all alpine meadows and peaks and expansive views, and we passed through another Pasque Flower garden right at the point where you would cut off the trail to Lake Anna.



Further down I was expecting it to be mostly boring, but was pleasantly surprised: there we were lots of meadowy sections, and profuse wildflowers--our old friend the Naked Mariposa LIly, Scarlet Gilia, Mountain Spiraea, and so on. Sort of a nice lagniappe for that get-out-to-the-trailhead-fast last day. Just before the Bowerman Meadows turnoff, we passed a gorgeous stand of Washington Lily, one last burst of wildflowers before the end.

Back to the car around 10 am, and on the road shortly thereafter. As I said to Lou as we were approaching Vacaville, you spend 4 days in the wilderness filled with lovely peaceful thoughts of nature and then you spend 6 hours on the freeway recovering your misanthropic view of humanity.

But it's worth it.

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

We already knew that vaunted family-values fiscal conservative Gov. Mark Sanford doesn't really value his family that much. Now it turns out his version of fiscal conservatism only applies to other people.

While running for governor in 2002, Sanford zeroed in on travel spending, criticizing Democratic incumbent Gov. Jim Hodges for “lavish spending” on airfare and hotel rooms.

“If I become your governor,” he asserted in a radio ad, “I’ll fix that problem in Columbia."

...Later, he called out an unnamed state employee for staying in a New York hotel for $269 per night — which he pointed out at the time was $61 above the federal rate — and a state consultant for billing the state $375 a night for a three-night stay in a Phoenix hotel to attend a conference.

So far, so good. State guidelines were in place that specified “travel by commercial airlines will be accomplished in coach or tourist class, except where exigencies require otherwise.”

Apparently some exigencies arose when Sanford jetted off to South America on a trade mission -- with a side trip to visit his mistress:

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But on the now-infamous June 2008 South America trade mission, where Sanford slipped away to meet his Argentine mistress, the governor’s airfare consisted of four business-class flights for which the state paid $8,687.

By contrast, the Commerce Department official who accompanied Sanford to Buenos Aires flew coach, at a cost of $1,910 to the taxpayers (the official’s itinerary included one less short leg, since he did not accompany Sanford to Cordoba, Argentina, for a day of dove hunting).

Only after news of his affair got out did Sanford reimburse the state $3,300 for expenses incurred on his extramarital conjugal visit.

He doesn't stint on the hotel costs either, even if his charges exceed that federal rate he holds sacrosanct for others.

[Hotel charges] include an $862 bill for Sanford’s three-night stay in Philadelphia’s Ritz-Carlton in July 2008 for the National Governors Association meeting. During the NGA’s February meeting, taxpayers picked up the $648 bill for Sanford and his wife, Jenny, to spend two nights in Washington’s JW Marriott.

Neither tab is out of line with big-city hotel rates, and in both cases the hotels were hosting NGA events. Still, the bills were a combined $644 more than the federal reimbursement rates — which Sanford has repeatedly urged state employees to adhere to — for the dates, cities and number of nights of Sanford’s stays.

And he likes to use the state plane too.

State records also show that Sanford, his family and staff have amassed about $380,000 in flight charges on the state plane in his six years in office, including many flights with his family and supporters costing hundreds and sometimes thousands of dollars each.

Sawyer pointed out that the state’s previous governor, Democrat Jim Hodges, spent $377,000 on flights in his four-year term term.

Yeah, and he probably shouldn't have. What's that old saying about "two wrongs don't make a right"? Hodges wasn't impressed with the rationalization:

“Under Jim Hodges leadership, South Carolina had single-digit unemployment, strong job growth and solid capital investment. Under Mark Sanford, we have 13 percent unemployment, one of the highest jobless rates in the country. You be the judge of who gave the taxpayers a better return on their investment.”

Sanford's hypocrisy isn't impressing anyone, including his fellow Republicans. State Senator Larry Martin, one of a group of Republicans who called for Sanford's resignation after he went AWOL to visit his girlfriend, "predicted Sanford’s supporters were 'going to be very disgusted to learn that he’s been somewhat of a big spender when it comes to his own personal travel while at the same time insisting that state government be on a starvation diet.'

I can't believe Sanford is still hanging on to the governorship. He's demonstrated his irresponsibility and instability quite clearly over the past couple of months. The only thing I can figure is he really has swallowed The Family's interesting theological perspective that he's been chosen by God and can therefore get away with anything, his egotistical comparisons to King David notwithstanding.

It's only us lesser beings who are held to a higher standard.

Friday Random 10

Mekons - Ghosts of American Astronauts
Wanda Jackson - Hard Headed Woman
Los Mirlos - El Milagro Verde
Shriekback - Beatles Zebra Crossing
Henry Mancini - Background to Murder
Davie Allan & the Arrows - Biker's Lament
Shriekback - Nerve
Iggy Pop - Dum Dum Boys
Alton Ellis - It's a Shame
Big Youth - Hit the Road, Jack

Not bad, not bad at all. What are y'all listening to this morning?

Below the fold, a cover version of El Milagro Verde...
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Trinity Alps Trip Report: Part 1

My plan this year was to do three trips this year in areas where I had never backpacked before. The first was out of the Sierra altogether, in the Trinity Alps (in the northwest quadrant of the state). It's an area I've been thinking about for years: it's a big wilderness (500,000+ acres); it has some of the very few truly alpine areas in California outside the Sierra; and it was reportedly great wildflower country. With a lot of help from Messrs. Linkhart and White, I put together a planned loop with several lakes, some interesting cross-country, and a whole lot of wildflower potential: from Long Canyon Trailhead to Anna Lake, Diamond Lake, Deer Lake, and then out. The downside: a 3,700' gain the first day, with the toughest (off-trail) part coming at the end of the hike.

At some point I managed to get my buddy Lou interested enough to come along...despite his misgivings about the first day's climb. We met at his place the morning before, and drove up together--with stops in Redding (for the Sundial Bridge) and Weaverville (for lunch and a tour of the Joss House). We crashed out at the trailhead so we would get the most time at the highest possible elevation and the earliest possible start.

Good thing, because when we hit the trail at 6:00 am we could tell it was going to get good and warm.

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The Long Canyon trail starts out steep and just keeps climbing. The good news was that it was all shaded in the early stretch, which kept it cool; the bad news was that it was also pretty boring. We chugged along in low gear, steady and slow. At about two miles we got to the Bowerman Meadows trail, dropped down to cross Long Creek, and started climbing again on the other side.



After a short climb we got to the first small meadow, the first good views of the cliffs above, and the first of the Naked Mariposa Lilies that were so spectacular in the upper meadows. Then another longer climb away from the stream, and a traverse through a boggy section chock full of wildflowers: Leopard Lilies, Bog Orchids, Crimson Columbine, etc.

Three words about the wildflowers in this section (from this point to the valley headwall): Anne. Croy. Obbler. Whole fields of Mariposa Lilies, Cinquefoil, Yarrow, and Scarlet Gilia and Larkspur for highlights; underfoot, easy to miss, lots of tiny Monkey Flowers.

After another short climb we came out into a large open area, the main body of Bowerman Meadows. This is where I think we went wrong. We followed the obvious trail to where it sort of petered out at the edge of the forest. We picked up something that looked like a trail that led toward the stream, and then died a horrible death in a willow thicket. Huh.

So we backtracked a bit and then headed straight up the open slopes, figuring we might get the views needed to better orient ourselves, and at any rate the going would likely be easier higher up. A couple hundred feet up we got to a sort of bench, where we found...trail. Apparently when we got to the main meadow, we should have looked for a faint trail heading upslope instead of following the beaten path on the level. (Linkhart and White actually describe this, by the way.)

From here it was straightforward on-trail hiking, traversing the slope with a gentle climb up to the flat below the headwall. It's an idyllic spot--lush meadow, mountain stream, dramatic cliffs, and the cascading stream out of Lake Anna--so we took a break here and planned out the off-trail portion of the day's hike.



Moving again, we started the climb. Following Linkhart & White's directions, we followed the Lake Anna outlet stream for a ways, until the grade got steeper, then turned and angled right (northish) up the ridge. It's a steep climb with some loose stuff (not too bad, but watch your footing) and large patches of brush to find your way through or around. The best bet is to stay left of the large outcrop (described as a 'boulder' in the book) and just keep climbing; when you get to what looks like the ridgetop the grade eases up and you have a short further climb to a saddle on the true ridgetop.

We were tired, but feeling okay--believing, naively, that the hard part was over.

Following the book, we turned left here and headed up a short steep gully. At the top...ugh: snow choked the gully down the other side, which would have been the natural route. At first it looked like we needed to traverse across the large snowfield to a gap high on the left--not an encouraging prospect.

Then I remembered what it said in the book: "make a short descent into this basin, traverse around the base of the cliffs, and head up to a minor ridge on the opposite side." There was a clear notch on the opposite ridge, so we figured that was our route. We clambered cautiously down the rocks to the less-precipitous slopes below, and angled up to the notch on the other side.

And once again: cliffs and snow. This is the point at which I really started feeling exhausted. The troublesome thing here was not just the steep-angled snowfield itself, but also the gap one had to cross to get on it in the first place. Again, we eased our way down the rocks to where the snowfield was a little more level. Here, Lou got onto the snow with a tricky move off a narrow foothold; not trusting my rubbery legs, I followed the snow gap (just wide enough to walk through) to the lower edge of the snowfield.

Now we were in the gully north of Lake Anna, and it was pretty easy from here...or would have been, if I weren't so wiped. (I did, however, have enough energy to stop and shoot the Glacier Lilies I spotted along the way.) The gully seemed endless, and there was at least one false crest along the way.



At the top of the ridge, with the lake finally in view, I was ready to drop at the closest campsite. (All of the feasible campsites at Lake Anna are well above the lake, on a high bench.) Lou was not; he wanted the best campsite. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that adequate is good enough?" I asked him, rhetorically. In fairness to Lou, he did find us a pretty swell site that wasn't too much further: great view, level sleeping sites, and water (the inlet stream) was just a short level jog to the south (rather than a steep descent to the lake and climb back up).

We settled into camp around 1 pm, a good 7 hours after setting out that morning. Reading, napping, a little whiskey--an afternoon spent recovering from the day's hike.

Later, early evening, Lou and I wandered over to chat with Don and Griff, two guys from Portland camped on the saddle north of Lake Anna. (Also a swell view: while we could see east as far as Mt. Lassen, they looked out at Mt. Shasta.) Very nice guys, generous with the hooch and knowledgeable about the area--and after talking with them we wound up altering our trip plans (wisely) on the basis of their information.

Then back to camp, dinner, and bed.

Part 2

Someone Didn't Do His Homework

Jeff Sessions continues to embarrass himself, and those of us who have the misfortune to be represented by him, in the Sotomayor hearings. I know he thinks he's firing up his base -- and, sadly, he probably is -- but he could at least do a little research before he blathers. Said research might show him that *gasp* all Puerto Ricans don't think alike.

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This morning [Tuesday], Sen. Jeff Sessions (R-AL) castigated Sotomayor for not ruling with her fellow Puerto Rican colleague, conservative Judge José A. Cabranes, when she decided to deny an en banc appeal in Ricci v. DeStefano, a process in which all judges of a court hear a case (as opposed to a three-judge panel of them). Sessions seemed to indicate that people of the same ancestry should vote the same way:

SESSIONS: You voted not to reconsider the prior case. You voted to stay with the decision of the circuit. And in fact your vote was the key vote. Had you voted with Judge Cabranes, himself of Puerto Rican ancestry, had you voted with him, you could’ve changed that case./p>

(Yeah, wow.  She voted to uphold the lower court's decision.  Why, that's the definition of judicial activism...oh, wait.  It's not.)

Jeff's opposition researchers apparently missed another little tidbit -- his pet Puerto Rican jurist Cabranes served on the board of LatinoJustice PRLDEF, a group that right-wingers are trying to paint as pro-terrorist, with some very thin, substandard paint.  Sessions claims Sotomayor is unsuitable for the bench because of her past association with LatinoJustice PRLDEF.  Does he think Cabranes should be removed as well?

****

At least Sessions isn't the only one embarrassing himself at the hearings.  Steve M. at No More Mister Nice Blog has video of Tom Coburn's Ricky Ricardo imitation, and he notes wryly:

How many more days is this thing going to go on? You think these Republican whiteboys still have time to "inadvertently" blurt out "My name Jose Jimenez," "Eez not my job, man," and "I am the Frito Bandito"?

And Glenn Greenwald quotes Samuel Alito's opening statement at his confirmation hearing:

But when I look at those cases, I have to say to myself, and I do say to myself, "You know, this could be your grandfather, this could be your grandmother. They were not citizens at one time, and they were people who came to this country" . . . .

When I get a case about discrimination, I have to think about people in my own family who suffered discrimination because of their ethnic background or because of religion or because of gender. And I do take that into account.

Gee, I wonder why that obvious evidence of "bias" and "empathy" didn't send Republicans running for their fainting couches.

Wednesday Wildflowerblogging

Bush Lupine (Lupinus arboreus) at Lobos Creek Dunes in the Presidio. Bush Lupine can be either yellow or purple.
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At the head of Rodeo Lagoon in the Marin Headlands.


Above Sutro Baths.

A Word of Advice

If you're going to pontificate about Marshall McCluhan, first make sure he isn't in line for the same movie.

Update: Josh Marshall beat me to it.

Turkey Vulture

More info on the species here. (Check out that head.)

Also

Shorter Sarah Palin: "Let's progress the prevention of free-market efforts to protect life!"

Update: As Kevin Drum points out, Sarah Palin really did write and the Washington Post really did publish this op-ed on Cap-and-Trade that omits any mention whatsoever of the concept of global climate change.

Tuesday Trivia

This week, it's characters.

Monday Movie Review: The Fountain

The Fountain (2006) 6/10
Tommy (Hugh Jackman) is a research scientist working on brain tumors, and hoping to find a breakthrough in time to save his beloved wife Izzi (Rachel Wiesz). Tomas (Jackman) is a Spanish conquistador seeking the Fountain of Youth on behalf of Queen Isabella (Weisz). Tom (Jackman) is a bald guy in a bubble with a tree. Directed by Darren Aronofsky.

I am so confused.
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I am okay with non-linear plots. I adored Memento. I like mysticism. I love romance. But I found this movie very difficult. Visually stunning, kind of engrossing, but ultimately frustrating. I had a sort of a sense of what was going on, but I felt like I was spending too much time trying to figure out what was going on, and it was distracting me from enjoying the movie. My teenagers (my son and my goddaughter) enjoyed the movie a lot more than I did. Arthur in particular didn't care whether he understood, because he found the palette of light and color, and the repeated motifs of stars and specific shapes, so fascinating. And certainly the movie is like a painting; unfortunately, too much Dali, not enough Monet.

Because The Fountain deals with a man facing the death of his beloved wife, and because it is abstract and laden with symbolism, it lends itself to comparison with What Dreams May Come. The latter movie is weird, otherworldly, and metaphorical, and yet I never had trouble following it.

After watching The Fountain, I started looking at some of the DVD extras, and they started talking about Tom on his spaceship in the future. And I was all like "SPACESHIP? It was a SPACESHIP?" No clue. I had no clue. Because shaved head, lotus position, talking to a tree in a bubble in the stars doesn't read "spaceship" to me, it reads astral travel or nirvana or something like that. The kids, apparently, knew it was a spaceship, so maybe it was me, but seriously, the teensiest bit of exposition is all I ask.

So what I get is that these two very pretty people with very prominent eyebrows are deeply in love, and this love transcends time, except it doesn't really, because the whole Spanish conquistador thing may be a novel that Izzi is writing, except maybe it isn't. But she is dying and he is upset by that so there are intense facial expressions and some hot sex.

(Non-linear kind of confused cross-post I think)

Papal Bull

Shorter Ross Douthat:

How many angels can dance in my pinhead?

This guy is seriously embarrassing himself on a weekly basis.

Sunday Trinityblogging

Diamond Lake and the Granite Trinities, Trinity Alps Wilderness.

Huh.

Yesterday, on the bus home from work, there was a guy reading a book¹ by Kim Jong Il.

Speculate in comments.



¹On the Art of the Cinema

Friday Random 10

Fall - There's a Ghost in My House
Sleater-Kinney - Steep Air
Mekons - Kidnapped
Gary Numan & Tubeway Army - Down in the Park
Sahara All Stars of Jos - Take Your Soul
Expressions - Money I$ King
Savage Republic - Viva La Rock 'n Roll (instrumental)
Delta 5 - You
Tlahoun Gèssèssè - Sethed Seketelat
Adam West - Vehicle

What are y'all listening to this morning? Bonus video below the fold...
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"your an elitist snob"

That line pretty neatly sums up reaction among the Freeper-types dominating comment to Peggy Noonan's column on Sarah Palin this morning over at the Wall Street Journal. So you can skip the comments (as enjoyable as they are if you have the time and inclination), but do not miss the column.

Teaser line:

In another age it might not have been terrible, but here and now it was actually rather horrifying.

That is not a "Shorter," folks. That's the genuine Noonan. From there she gets up close and personal with a whole cast of GOP charlatans and mythmakers like John Fund and Russ Douthat.

Thank you, John McCain. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Wednesday Wildflowerblogging

Corn Lily (Veratrum californicum) at Diamond Lake, Trinity Alps Wilderness. More Corn Lilies below the fold.
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New Jersey Trivia

Okay, actor trivia. Come see.

Quimby the Mouse

Quimby The Mouse from This American Life on Vimeo.

Monday Movie Review Rerun: To Have and Have Not

I just got back from Kentucky and I haven't got time to write a new review, so here's a review I wrote over three years ago, for one of my favorite films:

To Have and Have Not (1944 ) 9/10
Fishing boat captain Harry Morgan (Humphrey Bogart) and pickpocket Marie (Lauren Bacall) are reluctantly involved in helping the French Resistance. Directed by Howard Hawks.

When people say “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore" they mean To Have and Have Not. More... This movie has everything that distinguishes “classic" movies from the ordinary kind. It has enormous star power (including Walter Brennan, Hoagy Carmichael, and Dan Seymour), smouldering chemistry between the stars, hot sexual innuendo (“You know how to whistle, don’t you Steve?"), adventure, humor, and music. Also guns, drunkenness, hustling, and Nazis. So it’s pretty much perfect. Not for nuthin’, this is the movie that changed me from someone who watched movies when they were on TV, to someone who was a real movie buff.

This is the film where Bogie met Bacall. This is the one that put all the sex into the dialogue, the voices, the low-lid looks, and yes, the whistling. Early into filming, Bacall, 19, and Bogie, 45, were an item; they were married within a year. Bacall’s screen presence in this, her first film, is like a slap across the face. I can’t think of many modern actresses who can capture the screen and hold it in the way that forties stars like Bacall, Rita Hayworth, and Ava Gardner could. It’s a complex role; she is by turns dignified, playful, desperate, sad, and hopelessly in love.

Humphrey Bogart is wonderful as always, and lays back and lets his costars steal every scene. And steal it they do; not just Bacall, but the wonderful Walter Brennan, the villainous Dan Seymour, and Hoagy Carmichael as Cricket, the piano player who helps Bacall find legitimate work.

Okay, it’s completely and totally an imitation of Casablanca, but just let it go. Okay, the Resistance is made to seem the most singularly uninteresting Good Cause in the history of causes, but run with it. Just let the wonderfulness wash over you.

(To Cross-post and Not Cross-post)

Rockets' Red Glare

Happy Independence Day, everybody.

Big in Japan Shenandoah

Hicks and nitwits all over this great nation are grieving tonight for Sarah Palin's political career. Or, no, wait, they're happy. Yeah, that's it, they're happy:

Reached by CNN at her farm in the Shenandoah valley, Mary Matalin, a top Republican consultant, called Ms. Palin's move "brilliant" although she said she was initially taken aback by the news. But she seconded the notion that the governor's decision was smart in the sense that it will free her up [to do stuff...and things and whatnot].

[...]

Ms. Matalin joked that despite her own initial inside-the-Beltway reaction of surprise, shoppers at her local WalMart in the Shenandoah would be whooping "hoo-rahs" because of Ms. Palin's continued popularity among conservative voters.

Of course. Conservatives are celebrating...[enunciate here]...because conservatives are celebrating!

Well played, Sarah Palin. Well played indeed.

East Coast Friday Random Ten

Whiskeytown, "Dancing with the Women at the Bar" Strangers Almanac
Blue Mountain, "When You're Not Mine" Tales of a Traveler
Richmond Fontaine, "The Warehouse Life" The Fitzgerald
Johnny Cash, "The Time of the Preacher" No Depression: What It Sounds Like
Badly Drawn Boy, "Say it Again" The Hour of the Bewilderbeast
Tindersticks, "Sweet, Sweet Man Pt. 1" Tindersticks
Joe Henry, "Cold Enough to Cross" Scar
Pavement, "Cut Your Hair" Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
Blood Meridian, "Good Lover" Kick Up the Dust
The Magnetic Fields, "Love in the Shadows" 69 Love Songs, Vol. 3

Bonus: St. Vincent, "Black Rainbow" Actor

Seems like I always pull the Fields and Joe Henry when I post on the front page. Weird. Anyway, please try your luck and play along in comments.

Two and a half videos of the best new band of the year below the fold:
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If that leaves you wanting more, pick up the superb Paranoid Cocoon.

Off to the Mountains Again

Leaving in a couple hours, back Monday. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Wednesday Wildflowerblogging

Ithuriel's Spear (Triteleia laxa) near Pan Toll on Mount Tamalpais.

Couple more (from Edgewood Park in San Mateo County) below the fold.
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