I picked up some filing supplies this weekend. Because my maturity knows no bounds I had meticulously saved bank statements, tax paperwork and the like for a number of years; because my tendency toward inertia smacks down my maturity, I had been carrying around these things and any number of other pieces of paperwork in manila folders, plastic bags, and similar containers. I had seven years of tax paperwork, for instance, in an opened Priority Mail envelope. Also, many of the credit card and bank statements were still in envelopes with offers for magazines, checks to write against the credit card for the financially moronic, etc. So after two hours of sorting out many years of this crap, I now have it all in file folders in a milk-crate-style container, plus a garbage can full of envelopes. It's a little weird to see all the paperwork in one place; on the other hand, it's nice to confirm that a pinch, I could now find my birth certificate without going through 4 years of W-2's.

Unlike Mike I don't have an answer key, but I think I could find more than 5 things wrong with this.

Corn, Cheese, and Other Misdemeanors

I was in Tom's car the other night and he had a CD called "Corn and Cheese" playing. It was a fun mix, with the added bonus where I had one of those moments where I linked up a song that I knew to hear with a title and artist that I knew, but didn't know what song they went with--in this case, Nilsson's "Without You." Thusly inspired, I put together for Tom a cheese collection of my own, and while I was at it, I also put together something called "Best of Joe's Computer" as a sampler of music that I have that I non-ironically enjoy. Here are the playlists for the curious:

Cheese:

1. Heartaches, The Marcels*
2. Long Arm of the Law, Kenny Rogers
3. Rock Me Gently, Andy Kim
4. Donna the Prima-donna, Dion
5. Concrete and Clay, Unit 4+2*
6. Sweet Pea, Tommy Roe
7. Indian Lake, The Cowsills*
8. Tell Laura I Love Her, Ritchie Valens
9. Can't Fight That Feeling, REO Speedwagon
10. I've Never Been To Me, Charlene
11. Pop Goes The World, Men Without Hats*
12. Johnny Get Angry, k.d. lang (live on SNL)
13. Don't You Want Me Baby?, Human League
14. Long Haired Lover From Liverpool, Little Jimmy Osmond
15. Teenage Dirtbag, Wheatus
16. Joey, Concrete Blonde*
17. Wingman, Coors Light commercial
18. Are You Ready For The Sex Girls?, Gleaming Spires
19. Red Rubber Ball, The Cyrkle
20. Goody Two Shoes, Adam Ant
21. Into The Night, Benny Mardonis
22. Indian Giver, 1910 Fruitgum Company
23. Forever Young, Alphaville

Best of:

1. What's Left of the Flag, Flogging Molly
2. Murder (Or a Heart Attack), Old 97's
3. Battle of Who Could Care Less, Ben Folds Five
4. Atlantic City, Bruce Springsteen
5. July July, The Decemberists
6. 36-24-36, Violent Femmes*
7. Veronica, Elvis Costello
8. Leave The Biker, Fountains of Wayne
9. Man In Black, Johnny Cash
10. Telstar, Laika & the Cosmonauts
11. Shitloads of Money, Liz Phair
12. Santeria, Sublime
13. Satellite of Love, Lou Reed
14. Song Against Sex, Neutral Milk Hotel
15. What Do All the People Know?, The Monroes*
16. Run, Baby, Run, Sheryl Crow
17. Gun, Uncle Tupelo
18. Bottle of Wine, Jimmy Gilmer*
19. We Threw Gasoline on the Fire and Now We Have Stumps for Arms and No Eyebrows, NOFX
20. Stuff, MU330
21. Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner, Warren Zevon
22. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots pt. 1, Flaming Lips
23. Ellen and Ben, Dismemberment Plan

(*) indicates a song that would fit equally well on either disc.

It's nice when a book lives up to its reputation. I just finished Battle Cry of Freedom, reading it in just under a week because I couldn't put it down. It's really hard, in one volume, to do both what I call a chronicle and a history. By "chronicle", I mean getting the facts down into an organized narrative. By "history", I mean provide coherent analysis of those facts. If you can make both compelling, you've written a hell of a history book; if you can do it on an enormous topic--the Civil War, including the 20-year run-up--that has been and continues to be written to death, then you've accomplished something incredible. James McPherson did both here, in his Pulitzer-winning magnum opus. It's entirely possible that the analysis is out-of-date since the book is 17 years old, and I'm sure historians have filled in some gaps and dug up some new sources. Also, real military buffs would probably be disappointed by the depth of treatment that actual battles get. But if you've ever thought you'd like to read one book that would tell you about the political, military, social, and cultural history of the Civil War period, this is the one.

I went canoeing today for the first time in I can't even guess how long. Tom and I navigated 2.5 miles of the roaring Huron River (average depth: nine inches) in about 2.5 hours, including walking-it-across-the-rocks and dislodging-it-from-the-cement-thingy time. Helpful hint: If you need an excuse to clean out the old business cards in your wallet that you don't really need any more, having your wallet in your pocket when you fall in the river provides a really good one. Also, try not to get too demoralized by the van ride that takes approximately 7 minutes to do the return journey it just took you 150 minutes to paddle with the current. Also, massive kudos to Caitlin for remembering sunscreen, and to her boyfriend Eric for dislodging us from the cement thingy. Jeers to Tom and I for failing to make even one "That's a paddlin'" joke the entire trip.

Every once in a while an email makes it through my spam filter and to award the ingenuity I take a look. OK that's a lie; really I just saw the subject line "horse riding" and thought, hmmm, is this what I think it is? I clicked through, and the text said: "Horses, snakes, cows, monkeys, sheep, goats, donkeys, dogs come see it all," along with an innocuous-looking URL. So of course, you know, purely for research purposes, I clicked through again, and it was exactly what I suspected. I assume my sophisticated readers don't need it spelled out for them, but here's a hint. The reason I was moved to post about this was the excellent warning prominently featured on the site:

Banned in 51 States!

In other news, we had our first 'Nam guy of the summer yesterday at the reference desk. The patron came to the desk not exactly speaking in an indoor voice. We soon asked him if he could lower his voice, and he obliged--but not before telling us that he spoke loudly because he was hard of hearing, and that it's amazing what a howitzer going off right next to your ear over and over again could do. As it did to him in 'Nam.

You know, OK, fair enough, I'll give him that one. I'll even sympathize with his complaint that he's tired of being treated like a third-class citizen. But we didn't find out whether it was before, during, or after 'Nam that he decided that the massive, complex tattoo in the middle of his forehead was a really good idea. Here's the thing: it isn't. I hate to over-generalize, but I'm willing to say that getting a tattoo anywhere on the face has never worked out well for anyone in the long-term. I'm also pretty skeptical about the medium-term and the short-term.

I don't know if it should make me happy or upset that I just watched the end of the Chris Taft nosedive down to the Warriors at #42, where he will come out and play-yee-yay next year. Thanks for screwing up our team for a non-guaranteed contract, Chris. Here's wishing you all the success enjoyed by fellow alums such as Vonteego Cummings, Eric Mobley, Mark Blount, Jerome Lane.....

What better way to spend a hot, humid late afternoon than sitting in air-conditioned comfort, putting the happiest songs on your computer onto a playlist, eating a peanut butter and pickle sandwich, and reading a biography of John C. Fremont. OK, I know exactly where most of you got off the train in that list, but I'm enjoying it, dammit.

The Fremont book fascinates me for any number of reasons. For one, I knew precious little about the Bear Flag Republic and what a haphazard affair it was. For two, I love reading about the exploration of the West, particularly in historically sophisticated books that don't just talk about rugged individualism, but that instead remind you that those "rugged individuals" were U.S. government officials carrying the flag and the resources of the country behind them. For three, it's truly amazing to think about just how few people were actually involved in these exploration parties, and particularly in the Mexican-American War; count up the total number of "troops" (often semi-conscripted or politically interested settlers) on both sides and it's hard to find 1,000 people in the whole California campaign--some of whom at least briefly set out with the idea (not realized) of sailing to Acapulco to open up another front.

The book also resonates with me for another reason: this is the first summer since 1997 that I won't cross the country by car at least once, and that reality is finally starting to set in and make me a little bit stir crazy. In fact, I'm already looking at Yahoo maps to figure out new and interesting routes for next summer (hmmm...how many miles to Seattle and then down? what about finally traversing America's Loneliest Highway? etc.).

Finally, the book resonates because it makes me think again about land and property and ownership, topics that have been on my mind in the wake of the recent SCOTUS decision in Kelo v. New London. Kelo is one of those decisions that makes me happy that I want to be a lawyer and not a judge--I can make the argument for whatever side wants to pay me, but I'd prefer not to decide what I actually think about it myself. I'm highly waffle-y on the subject; my gut (like that of some other left-leaning folks) that this is a bad decision, and that allowing for shopping developments and the like is a pretty crummy reason to take people's homes through eminent domain. On the other hand, as soon as I start thinking that way, I notice who voted which way, and I remind myself that some other things must be going on here.

The Court is filled with smart people, and I'm willing to go with it when they take New London at its word that this is not a mere boondoggle for Pfizer, but rather a community development plan that takes advantage of Pfizer's presence as an anchor. At least five justices decided this was not a mere pretext, and nothing in the dissenting opinions suggest that the other four justices thought it was pretextual either. Rather, they just don't think that eminent domain should be available for pure economic benefits--i.e., where the point of the eminent domain is to improve the local economy generally. The slippery slope argument (why can't the government, then, take mom and pop stores to make way for Wal-Marts) is worth exploring, but nothing in this decision suggests that such piecemeal takings, not tied to a broader plan, would be acceptable.

To me, Justice O'Connor gives away what's really going on here in the way she introduces the facts of the case:

Petitioners are nine resident or investment owners of 15 homes in the Fort Trumbull neighborhood of New London, Connecticut. Petitioner Wilhelmina Dery, for example, lives in a house on Walbach Street that has been in her family for over 100 years. She was born in the house in 1918; her husband, petitioner Charles Dery, moved into the house when they married in 1946. Their son lives next door with his family in the house he received as a wedding gift, and joins his parents in this suit. Two petitioners keep rental properties in the neighborhood.

For O'Connor and the other dissenters, it matters that people have lived in these houses for a long time, that families live near one another, etc. Notice that none of that matters the slightest bit before the law--if the government wanted the property to build a school, for instance, the petitioners just lose. The only thing at issue is the legitimacy of the purpose behind the taking, not the status in any way, shape, or form of the people who currently own the property. The dissenters, though, clearly care.

Where I'm going with this, as you would have no reason to have guessed so far, is this: I don't care. Perhaps this has something to do with my own peripatetic nature, but I quite simply place absolutely no stake in roots, long-time occupancy, traditional occupancy, etc. So in Kelo, I'm not sympathetic to the idea that we can't have our economic development plan, because Mrs. Kelo has lived here for a long time. Tough shit. I'm more sympathetic to the idea that taking land from one private landholder and transferring it to another is not a "public use" (as required under the Fifth Amendment grant of eminent domain power), but that ship has long sailed, including cases where a unanimous court allowed such transfers in an opinion written by O'Connor.

So why does John C. Fremont remind me of this? Well, the point I made about not caring about traditional occupancy, etc. applies in a number of situations. For instance, even though I'm often sympathetic to Michael Moore's views, I totally disagree with the central premise of Roger and Me--that people who have lived in Flint are entitled to a good life in Flint. No. If you can't make it there, move. Seriously. Move. I don't care how long you've lived there. Move. And if you don't move, then clearly you value staying more than you value other aspects of a "good life," so stop complaining. Seriously, I come from a place where some people can make it just fine, others leave, and the rest stay due to some allegiance to place that I just don't comprehend at all.

And again, Fremont? Well, it turns out that I'm also unsympathetic to (generally left-wing) claims that people (in the sense, here, not of "persons" but of groups, peoples) are entitled to land that their ancestors once held and that they no longer hold. Whether it's moving boundaries of European wars or Native American claims, I just don't buy it. If for whatever reason (conquest, mismanagement, industry failures, etc.) you can't hold onto land that you have, then you no longer have it. That's just how property works, and in any semblance of a modern world, it's how property has to work. So, move to somewhere with a good economy, do what you can to acquire marketable skills, and try to earn the money to buy it back if that's what matters to you. Or perhaps you'll be like Aldous Huxley, and after you leave war-torn Europe for Southern California, you'll realize you'd be a damn fool to ever leave it again.

Oops.

OK, honestly, even though I believe everything I just wrote, I have no idea where that burst of text came from. It's probably the heat, and I probably need another sammich.

If anyone has any thoughts on why anything I do the the date line of my template only works for the most recent post, and more importantly how to make that not the case, please let me know.

Or for that matter, why I can "preview" my blog and the blockquotes work, but if I actually access the blog, everything's all centered.

There's no question that the best thing about Southern California weather as compared to Midwest weather is the lack of snow. Hands down. I may not have felt that way before I owned a car, but since then it's absolutely clear. After that, it's a virtual tie for second place. I could make a strong case for the long dry season--in L.A., you never worry that anything you have to do in the summer will be cancelled or affected by rain. You can be pretty sure it won't.

However, at the moment my candidate for #2 is the lack of humidity. Particularly as a large person, humidity can be the bane of my existence in the summer. Yesterday was a great example; my regular schedule gives me Fridays and Sundays off. However, I had to go to the laundromat and the supermarket in addition to the gym, so I was running around all day anyway. When I finished my errands around 6, I sat down and put on the TV, with the distinct plan of going out around 10. Instead, I just sat, slouched and eventually lay down and basically just swooned all night. I never did make it back out of my apartment. I really hope that story's not repeated over and over again for the next 2 months, but I have my suspicions.