I think we’re finally getting a handle on this TextDrive/TextPattern thing and it’s beyond cool, once they get the jams kicked out.

Now that TextPattern is working again for the most part and the servers are reasonably stable (momentary e-mail hiccup was tonight’s problem), I was able to add the other airbeagle domains that I’ve had for a couple of years but always just had parked, unused, at GoDaddy.

So yet another redesign is in the works for next week, my last free week before I start grad school. And this one is a doozy, involving multiple domains as well as the usual graphical stuff. The plans:

This ‘blog, which is all fiery political and stuff, will move to its own domain: airbeagle.us, which I’ll use exclusively for that kind of thing.

AirBeagle.com will see diminished usage; it will become mainly a site for my resume.

AirBeagle.biz will be the site for information about my communications consulting activities.

The main activity will be centered on AirBeagle.net, which will be a network of our blogs, including aSquared, the education blog about my adventures in grad school and teaching and so on.

I haven’t quite decided what to put on AirBeagle.org; I’m still thinking that one through. The most likely thing is the list of soldiers/sailors sacrificed to the Boy Emperor’s extremism, which I desperately need to update.

I’m also considering StevePollock.info or .us for biographical and more inward-looking blogging.

But we’re already pretty dang narcissistic around here already …

Auto redirects will be put in place so you won’t reach deadends; you’ll just have to watch where you end up and adjust bookmarks accordingly.

It’s all so much higgledy-piggledy fun!

I was wrong when I wrote a while back “Nothing in Washtenaw.” Apparently the cicadas are all over Superior Township. Weird.

There’s a thread over at LISNews about Bloomsbury and James Joyce and Ulysses and the whole hundred-year mark thing. I’m greatly enjoying the history. It’s a nice break from non-stop Reagan worship and electioneering news. But I have to say that, although I had a brief moment a week or so ago when I thought I might be brave and studious and librarian-ish and perhaps more than a little pretentious and try to tackle the vast Joycean behemoth, I stopped in front the shelves on the third floor of Hatcher where all the multifarious Joyce editions and critical commentaries and facsimiles of the original manuscripts reside, and I knelt in front of all those overwhelming books, and I lost heart almost immediately. Too much, too much, there is such a thing as too much of a thing. And such it was. My praises and respects to you, Mr. Joyce, but tackling your masterpiece will have to await another day.

We’re back, it seems. Thanks to some hard effort by David in San Francisco and advice from Jason at TextDrive, the Beagle is back. Did you miss us?

A hot, humid, sauna-like day is just turning interesting … they announced a tornado warning for Washtenaw County and blew the storm sirens in Ann Arbor.

Radar indicates a possible tornado 14 miles west of Chelsea, moving east at 35 mph.

I tried to call Frank at work, but the UM Libraries are evacuating staff and students to the basement of the building.

The beagle is asleep upstairs, but I stood outside as the leading edge of the storm passed. It was quite exhilirating. But then the rain came and, yes, I do know enough to come back inside outta the rain.

Could be an interesting afternoon!

There will be some sorta higgledy-piggledyness on airbeagle.com today and maybe into tomorrow; I’m switching the site to a more sane and less snarky, less corporate hosting provider. Had enough of LunarPages … their trashing of my Movable Type installation and subsequent arrogance about it, plus their ‘maybe Textpattern is okay and maybe it’s not’ and ‘we disabled secure FTP access back in January because we think it has a security hole, but we’re not sure and we’re not bring it back’ were all the last straw.

The new hosting provider is brand spanking new: TextDrive, brought to you by the same good folks who produce Textpattern, the CMS that runs AirBeagle. AirBeagle is the 229th site to be hosted thusly. And we can now say that AirBeagle is hosted by the Oliver Dog and the Hugo Dog, Pompignan, France’s greatest Weimaraners; their dad is TextDrive/TextPattern’s creator, Dean Allen.

If you’re reading this, then AirBeagle is still being hosted by LunarPages. If you come back later and something weird is happening, well, bear with us through the reconstruction/retooling process. And thanks for stopping by!

There will be some sorta higgledy-piggledyness on airbeagle.com today and maybe into tomorrow; I’m switching the site to a more sane and less snarky, less corporate hosting provider. Had enough of LunarPages … their trashing of my Movable Type installation and subsequent arrogance about it, plus their ‘maybe Textpattern is okay and maybe it’s not’ and ‘we disabled secure FTP access back in January because we think it has a security hole, but we’re not sure and we’re not bring it back’ were all the last straw.

The new hosting provider is brand spanking new: TextDrive, brought to you by the same good folks who produce Textpattern, the CMS that runs AirBeagle. AirBeagle is the 229th site to be hosted thusly. And we can now say that AirBeagle is hosted by the Oliver Dog and the Hugo Dog, Pompignan, France’s greatest Weimaraners; their dad is TextDrive/TextPattern’s creator, Dean Allen.

If you’re reading this, then AirBeagle is still being hosted by LunarPages. If you come back later and something weird is happening, well, bear with us through the reconstruction/retooling process. And thanks for stopping by!

The funny thing is that the Ann Arbor News ran an article today indicating that the first Washtenaw cicada sightings have occurred:

The emergence of the periodical cicada in the past week in northeast Ann Arbor and Ann Arbor Township is the first sighting in the state, according to Michigan State University entomology professor Howard Russell ….

They were first sighted last week in Ann Arbor near Oak Trails Montessori School. In Ann Arbor Township, they’ve been spotted near the Matthaei Botanical Gardens on Dixboro Road.

Paul Girard, horticulture assistant at the University of Michigan Matthaei Botanical Gardens, first noticed the mass of “nymphs” (juvenile cicadas) a few weeks ago as they emerged from their underground burrows and started molting. Last week, they started shedding their shells.

“There are millions and millions of them,” he said, against the backdrop of the young male adults’ mating chorus. “They definitely like it when it’s warmer out here, over 65 degrees.”

Their piercing chorus, he said, “sounds like frogs in the spring, but a little different. The first time I heard, it was almost like an old (movie’s) spaceship kind of noise, coming across the sky.”

Coooooool …..

Update: I’m on Cicada Mania (in the June 9 updates section on the main page)! I was the first to send them the Ann Arbor News link about the cicadas, I guess. Woo hoo!

From the ‘Sorry we tortured your uncle, raped your wife, blew your kid’s legs off and destroyed your home and livelihood, but at least we’re giving you cheap gas!’ Department:

We’re paying $2.09 in Ann Arbor for a gallon of gas this week. Meanwhile, « Baghdad drivers are paying 5 CENTS a gallon, » thanks to the billions of dollars we’re sending them:

‘While Americans are shelling out record prices for fuel, Iraqis pay only about 5 cents a gallon for gasoline—a benefit of hundreds of millions of dollars in subsidies bankrolled by American taxpayers. Before the war, forecasters predicted that by invading Iraq and ousting Saddam Hussein, America would benefit from increased exports of oil from Iraq, which has the world’s second-largest petroleum reserves. That would mean cheap gas for American motorists and a boost for the oil-dependent American economy.

More than a year after the invasion, that logic has been flipped on its head. Now the average price for gasoline in the United States is $2.05 a gallon—50 cents more than the pre-invasion price. Instead, the only people getting cheap gas as a result of the invasion are the Iraqis. Filling a 22-gallon tank in Baghdad with low-grade fuel costs just $1.10, plus a 50-cent tip for the attendant. A tankful of high-test costs $2.75. In Britain, by contrast, gasoline prices hit $5.79 per gallon last week—$127 for a tankful.

…

The U.S. government paid even more last year for Iraqis’ gasoline—between $1.59 and $1.70 per gallon—when the imports were contracted to Halliburton, the Texas oil services giant formerly headed by Vice President Dick Cheney. … Iraqi drivers protest that the price difference between a gallon of gas in the United States and Iraq is fair because the average Iraqi earns around $1,000 per year, a thirtieth of the average U.S. wage.’

Ain’t it all lovely? Yet one more Neo-Con lie. But, hey. We broke it, we bought it, I suppose.

No cicadas in Philadelphia this year. The Philadelphia Inquirer theorizes that it’s possible that an increase in concrete in areas where cicadas may have laid their eggs in the past 17 years may account for the absence, but an entomologist at the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia says that the outbreaks of cicadas were just as “patchy” in 1987.

According to the Inquirer article, most of the 2004 cicadas are appearing in the forested areas between Baltimore and the DC Beltway. There are tons of cicadas in the suburbs of Philadelphia and in Chester County, but none in the city itself. Almost no cicadas in Nerw Jersey south of Princeton.

And, of course, still nothing in Washtenaw.

[Link courtesy Cicada Mania.]

The hagiography being written (presumably with an eye to sainthood and a spot on Rushmore, as well as his name on everything that will sit still and some things that won’t) claims the dearly departed had the highest approval ratings and was the most beloved president of modern times.’

Facts: The highest approval ratings recorded by the Gallup organization:

Ronald Reagan: 68%

Bill Clinton: 71%

Total term average approval ratings recorded by the Gallup organization:

Ronald Reagan: 53%

Bill Clinton: 55%

Final approval ratings recorded by the Gallup organization in the final weeks of their administrations:

Ronald Reagan:
21-Oct-88: 51%
11-Nov-88: 57%
27-Dec-88: 63%

Bill Clinton:
15-Dec-00: 66%
5-Jan-01: 65%
10-Jan-01: 66%

Hmmmmmmmmmm.

‘Facts are stupid things.’

Post-skunking, the dog is asleep here in the basement with me, exhausted but otherwise okay. The spraying was unpleasant, but it could have been much worse; it seems that the bugger only got the side of the poor beagle’s face, although his harness was drenched with spray and needed to be tossed outdoors. The dog still stinks somewhat, though, so we will probably need to re-apply the hydrogen peroxide remedy later this afternoon.

Tonight’s lesson, boys and girls:

When the geriatric dog suddenly comes up off the floor like a rocket and runs over to the screen door, fur a-bristling, and howling like a banshee, don’t simply shine a flashlight around the yard and assume the source of the to-do is gone and then allow aforementioned howling beagle to go outside to transact the usual business.

Because if you do, aforementioned beagle will transact business and then rouse a really surprised and subsequently hacked-off skunk from its nocturnal nosings at the edge of the bushes in the yard. Aforementioned hacked-off skunk will then direct a shot of something very effective as a deterrent in the direction of aforementioned beagle, who will then slink off in an embarrassed fashion towards the patio while his idiotic dad will call into the house for a very large can of tomato soup, as well as a Google search for ‘Dog Skunk Odor Remover.’

Aforementioned idiotic dad will then spend his Saturday evening massaging a recommended mixture of peroxide, baking soda and dish soap into aforementioned beagle’s fur while aforementioned beagle registers his extreme displeasure with the entire world by delivering ‘if looks could kill’ glances at the idiotic dad and attempting to jump out of the tub and rub his stinky cheek on the living room rug.

He’s resting comfortably under his blankie in the living room floor, thank you very much. He got a caught a glancing blow and there’s still some stink on the cheek, but otherwise, I guess I can recommend the peroxide remedy.

I can also recommend shutting the patio door and closing the blinds and telling the dog to mind his own business.

As opposed to the other course of action.

And then there’s bulldozing the library as a solution to life’s problems.

According to Cicada Mania, cicadas in southern Ohio and Indiana, eastern Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Long Island ….. still nothing in Washtenaw.

The weather’s supposed to warm up significantly this coming week, though (apparently it will be over 90 by Wednesday, yuck), so we’ll see.

Amazing (at least to those of us like me who have not yet figured out that phones are more than phones) but true.

Goodspeed is signing off. Too bad. I’m not alone, I know, in saying that I’ll miss his blog.

….. would Jennifer Granholm fall (for nine minutes) for a radio “morning crew” stunt in which the person supposedly on the other end of the line was Ahnold Schwarzenegger but really wasn’t. [Courtesy whatevs.]

No strange critter sightings today, but it was mordantly amusing (then completely irritating, then vaguely humiliating) to stand waiting for over 15 minutes for a Link bus to come by. They’re supposed to come by “every 8 to 10 minutes,” which is never true, but this was ridiculous. After a certain juncture you feel like a fool standing there waiting, but you’ve already waited so long that walking away seems like even more of a chore than it seemed to begin with. At least the main AATA buses don’t make promises they don’t keep.

Ann Arbor didn’t make the first wave of Cool Cities grants; Ypsilanti, however, did.

Hearty congratulations, Ypsi.

Stolen from I Love Books:

• Ambrose Bierce: The Devil’s Dictionary [1911]
• Greil Marcus: Mystery Train: Images of America in Rock’N’Roll Music [1975]
• David Nasaw: The Chief: The Life of William Randolph Hearst [2000]
• Claire Tomalin: Samuel Pepys: The Unequalled Self [2002]
• Walt Whitman: Leaves of Grass [1855, 1856, 1860 …. ]

This is not the same thing as listing “my 5 favorite books.” I wouldn’t even try to do that.

Picking only five was way harder than I thought it’d be.

They were in the back of the bus this afternoon, two off-duty AATA drivers, exchanging war stories about belligerent passengers, snotty passengers, or moronic passengers who ring the stop bell and then change their minds at the last possible second as the bus is pulling over for the stop, but mostly shaking their heads and moaning about those young-uns of the latter day. They are dads and both have what sound like teenage daughters at home. “At home, it’s ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, ma’am,’ but you don’t know what’s going on when they get together with their little friends.”

I don’t know. Those dads may have had a point, but how much do you want to bet that it’s those same dads (or dads like them) who scream bloody murder at the TV set when the Patriots go into overtime or the Pistons lose an easy free throw? Or who turn red in the face and have veins bulging out in their necks when someone cuts in front of them on 94? Or who threaten to slam their kids into the wall over the slightest provocation?

It’s easy to lay the blame at the feet of the kids, but it all begins with the parents who gave birth to and raised those kids.

Michigan’s full of them.

What was that strange, frightened critter (light brown, about the size of a small dog but very rodent-like, resembling a squirrel on unbelievable doses of steroids) I saw dashing across the north end of central campus this afternoon, stopping and starting and eventually dashing across State under a bush and barely missing being crushed by one of the usual line-up of crazed manic drivers hurtling up the street? Was it a weasel? Hyrax? Marten? Polecat? A giant gopher? An escaped ferret? A capybara?

I have no idea, but it was a sight, that’s for sure.

Almost a month later and still no cicadas ….. A quick check of Cicada Mania shows there have been sightings in Cincinnati and southern Indiana, but nothing here yet.

There is a moderately amusing photo at Cicada Mania of a cicada chasing George W. Bush, though.

Question of the Day while subbing at one of Ann Arbor’s two high schools:

‘Hey, Mr. Sub Man, Sir? What’s a Baroness?’

A story on Michigan Radio a few minutes ago mentioned that this past month was the rainiest May in southeast Michigan on record—8.6 inches (the previous record was apparently 8.4 back in 1943).

It’s sure sunny today, though.

For the time being, anyway. (Always have to throw that disclaimer in.)

Update: According to the Ann Arbor News, May was actually the third-rainiest May in Ann Arbor, based on weather measurements at the North Campus observation site. The record was 10.49 inches in 1943. This May was 7.78. The “rainiest on record” statistic applies to Detroit and Wayne County.

As Steve mentioned, XM Radio had a Memorial Day special on one of its channels in which they played all 253 #1 songs from 1970-1979. It was cheesy, nostalgic fun, a nice escape. Some of the songs I hadn’t heard in years and years and years. We turned on the radio a little late—we came in at late 1972, when Johnny Nash’s “I Can See Clearly Now” was on—but, except for a few breaks here and there, we kept the station tuned to the 1970s all day long, all the way through Rupert Holmes’ “Escape (The Piña Colada Song).”

Of course, some songs that you don’t want to get stuck in your head inevitably get lodged there in the process of engaging in an activity like listening to an all-1970s song marathon, and in my case, the horror has been having endless loops of Paper Lace’s “The Night Chicago Died” and the Bee Gees’ “Love You Inside Out” running through my head. Someone please end the agony.

XM also had a special on its “traditional jazz” channel (I love these absurd labels, but that’s a subject for another post) the other day in which they played and dissected Miles Davis’ classic album Kind of Blue. I loved hearing the album, but I think the best tribute would have been to play the CD from end to end—”So What” to “Flamenco Sketches”—without all of the interrupting chatter. Miles’ music speaks for itself. There’s no need to dissect it.

Ann Arbor blogger Edgewise has an interesting self-debate over what is possibly the ultimate bugaboo of politics these days, abortion. He brings up some very good points. My own position has been, as usual, to straddle the fence in the middle. Abortions should be safe and very, very rare, but legal. Alternatives should be easily available, especially easier adoption. (Want to reduce the number of abortions? Let gay and lesbian couples adopt, for example.)

Statistics seem to bear out that the safe, legal and very rare thing works; abortions fell every year in the 1990s under Clinton/Gore and are on the rise again thanks to the Fascist FunDumbMentalists in power now. And there is also statistical evidence from another place, as noted by Edgewise—The Netherlands:

‘Contrary to common belief, legalization of abortion does not necessarily increase abortion rates. The Netherlands, for example, has a non-restrictive abortion law, widely accessible contraceptives and free abortion services, and the lowest abortion rate in the world: 5.5 abortions per 1,000 women of reproductive age per year. Barbados, Canada, Tunisia and Turkey have all changed abortion laws to allow for greater access to legal abortion without increasing abortion rates.’

Again, safe, legal and rare = lowest abortion rates in the world. But there’s more to it than that, of course, as he notes:

‘By the way, the Netherlands has universal free prenatal, birthing, and child health care, along with subsidized daycare and a few others measures to increase the viability of alternatives to abortion.’

As usual, human issues are rarely black-and-white, cut-and-dried. Life is simply more complex that ‘Just Say No.’

A brave statement for a librarian to be making these days:

A children’s book depicting a masked burglar pointing a gun at a woman will remain in Evanston Public Library despite complaints that the image is too violent for young readers.

“A good library collection should have something to offend everyone,” said Jan Bojda, head of children’s services at the library. “If they don’t, they are not doing their job.”

[Quote from May 21 Chicago Tribune; story courtesy Librarian.net.]

This is an awesome idea, especially in light of the recent vicious assaults on an art gallery owner in San Francisco’s North Beach. [CCA Santa Fe link courtesy LISNews.]

Americans are increasingly a clueless and brutal lot. Latest case in point: a San Francisco woman is forced to shut down her art gallery, after Brown Shirt thugs beat her up over the display of a painting depicting the Abu Ghraib prison abuse story:

‘After displaying a painting of U.S. soldiers torturing Iraqi prisoners, a San Francisco gallery owner bears a painful reminder of the nations unresolved anguish over the incidents at Abu Ghraib—a black eye and bloodied brow delivered by an unknown assailant who apparently objected to the art work. The assault outside the Capobianco gallery in the citys North Beach district Thursday night was the worst, but only the latest in a string of verbal and physical attacks that have directed at owner Lori Haigh since the painting, titled “Abuse,” was installed there on May 16. Last Wednesday, concerned for the safety of her two children, ages 14 and 4, who often accompanied her to work, Haigh decided to close the gallery indefinitely.

Painted by Berkeley artist Guy Colwell, “Abuse,” the painting at the center of the controversy, depicts three U.S. soldiers leering at a group of naked men in hoods with wires connected to their bodies. The one in the foreground has a blood-spattered American flag patch on his uniform. In the background, a soldier in sunglasses guards a blindfolded woman.’

So that’s how it happens. Easily and quietly. Many times over the past 60 years, we’ve asked how could a country as advanced and religious and cultured as Germany descend from Beethoven to Auschwitz?

And now we must ask ourselves how America can descend from Jefferson to Abu Ghraib. It can (and obviously does) happen here.

I took the first mid-term for my Brigham Young University independent study geography course Saturday—an undertaking necessary, says the state of Michigan, before I enter grad school June 29th. (Michigan says I need 12 undergrad credits in geography, political science and economics to meet their standards for an elementary social studies minor. Ain’t bureaucracy grand?)

The exam was surprisingly easy; just 50 questions, true/false, multiple choice and matching. Compared to the online graded assignments, it was a piece of cake, even though it was closed book and no notes. Questions asked in the assignments about theory and other esoterica weren’t asked on the midterm; instead, it asked, ‘Where does the Rhine River empty into?’ [The North Sea, of course, everyone knows that!]

There was no time limit, but it was suggested it would take two hours. I finished in 35 minutes, and that was with carefully rechecking answers and dawdling a bit.

I don’t think I aced it, I’m not saying that; I know of one question in particular I missed regarding which country exhibited a certain climate type. I’m guessing that I got either a high B or low A. We’ll see in a week or so after the exam makes its way back to Provo for grading.

In the meantime, things are well ontrack for the start of the ELMAC program. Next week comes midterms in Managerial Economics and Travel and Tourism Geography. I should then be ready for finals by the 20th or so of June. Then, God and the Sovereign State of Michigan willing, I’ll officially be a fully admitted graduate student of the University of Michigan.

I still catch myself wondering what the heck I’m doing sometimes. I’m too old for this s*** …

The latest issue of Airways magazine, the 100th, reports the following tidbit about a Harris Poll ranking 60 major American companies by reputation and perception:

‘United was 52nd, putting it in the bottom ten. That was lower than both American Airlines and Halliburton, the alleged Iraq War profiteer. But United was not dead last. It beat MCi-Worldcom and Enron, as well as two cigarette manufacturers and Martha Stewart Living.’

Meanwhile, the still-bankrupt United unveiled a new paint scheme for its planes and Robert Redford voiceovers for its advertising, even as it continued its completely clueless and nasty behavior towards its customers and employees, even as it can’t figure out why it can’t make money.

One would think this Harris poll, which puts United below much-reviled-and-in-the-news Halliburton would wake up some folks in Elk Grove, but one would be wrong.

Speaking of Halliburton, the Duncan Banner reports that the company laid off 38 workers in Duncan this week.

I say that the Banner reports it, but in fact the rag just pretty much ran verbatim a company press release. It’s called lazy small-town journalism. Excerpts from the Halliburton PR:

‘Personnel reductions are under way at its technology center in Duncan to align research and development operations with current market conditions. A total of 38 people was part of the reduction in force at the Duncan Technology Center, which supports the production optimization and fluids divisions.

“The economic outlook of the industry has changed since we committed to our 2004 budget targets last year,” said Joe Sandy, director of technology. “The first quarter of 2004 has remained relatively flat compared to the same period last year.” Of the 38 employees leaving the company, 18 are contract. The remaining employee population at the Duncan Technology Center is 323. The total employee count for Duncan is 1,972, and statewide it is 2,354.’

Isn’t it great when American corporations which exist thanks to taxpayer largesse, like Halliburton, destroy 38 taxpayers’ lives and talk about it in such dry, divorced-from-reality PR language?

The press release continues:

’”We are a service-oriented company, and our customers continue to challenge us to provide low-cost, innovative solutions,” said Sandy. “As our customers and others in the industry adjust to the changing economic times, we must do the same to remain competitive. It is always difficult to face these issues, but we have to run a cost-effective technology organization. That means right-sizing our business to the market that is anticipated by our product service lines.”’

‘Right-sizing our business to the market …’ How disgusting.

Personally, I think the government of we the people need to right-size our business and cut out all corporate socialism/welfare to companies like Halliburton.

Weather today was really nice, not too muggy, sunny and warm later in the afternoon and evening. I walked home from campus after a brief stop at Panchero’s on South University for take-home burritos. It was a nice walk; East University had a couple of low-key parties going on in backyards, and you could smell barbecues grilling, a sure sign of the approach of Memorial Day and summer. Some sort of dandelion-like pollen wafted from trees on the block, which made my allergies act up for a bit, but nothing too severe (I’ve been surprised at how well I’ve escaped the allergy menace so far this spring). As I hit Stadium, the sun was starting to sink toward the horizon, and I was once again amazed at how low the sun gets here as it falls in the evening—so low that the light is all-surrounding and almost blinding if you’re moving towards it. And the quality of the light is different, too—torpid, stunning, almost mesmerizing.

I saw a bunch of different kinds of sparrows outside on my way to work this afternoon, and, of course, the usual contingent of foraging robins and starlings. Birdsong filled the air, and I had no idea what any of it belonged to, but it was nice to listen to.

But another bird, much larger and seemingly flightless, skittered across my path, directly in front of me, and then swiftly away from me, almost before I had a chance to see it, and it startled me: I had to stop and turn around to look as it hurried away across the grass, making its frantic, anxious pip pip pip sound. I think (not 100% certain, but am pretty sure) it was a northern bobwhite (Colinus virginianus). Wow.

I recognized none of the birdsong I heard walking home tonight. The daunting Birds of Michigan (Auburn, WA: Lone Pine Publishing, 2003) makes you feel like such a nitwit when you open it up and see meticulous descriptions of the calls and songs of hundreds of Michigan birds.

The Eastern kingbird (Tyrannus tyrannus—what a great Linnaean name) has a call that is described as a “quick, loud, chattering kit-kit-kitter-kitter; also a buzzy dzee-dzee-dzee.” How can you tell the “kitters” from the “dzees”?

The black-throated blue warbler (Dendroica caerulescens) has a song that is a “slow, wheezy I am soo lay-zeee, rising slowly throughout; call is a short tip.”

LeConte’s sparrow (Ammodramus leconteii) has a “weak, short, raspy, insect-like buzz: t-t-zeeee zee or take-it ea-zeee.”

Here’s the American goldfinch (Carduelis tristis): “song is a long, varied series of trills, twitters, warbles and hissing notes; calls include po-ta-to-chip or per-chic-or-ee (often delivered in flight) and a whistled dear-me, see-me.”

And the (male) red-eyed vireo (Vireo olivaceus): “song is a continuous, variable, robinlike run of quick, short phrases with distinct pauses in between: Look-up, way-up, tree-top, see-me, here-I-am!”

Now how is anyone who hasn’t been a birdwatcher for years supposed to distinguish calls using those descriptions? I guess the answer is: You’re not. You learn by listening, not reading.

The only call I thought I recognized tonight was a couple of distinctive hooot hooot sounds from what may have been a mourning dove (Zenaida macroura) somewhere behind the house.

Weird how eerily quiet it was tonight ….. except for the occasional sound of what had to be firecrackers in the distance. Is today some holiday that I’m not aware of?

My first time in the Fine Arts Library in Tappan Hall today. It’s a smaller library than the behemoths next door, but it’s got its charms. There’s a nice, extensive reference room, and across a landing, there’s two floors of stacks (deserted when I visited today). I didn’t find the James Gillray books I was looking for, but I did snag a nice Caravaggio volume.

Crazy Wisdom Books on 114 South Main is worth a visit at least once.

They’re well-stocked. They have two floors, one with a fairly decent selection of metaphysical and “alternative religion” (pagan, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc.) books, though the inventory within each category is not as deep as the amount of categories is wide, and the second floor with a cafe-type space, a meeting room, and an assortment of yoga and meditation materials. There is the usual new-age store bric-a-brac, including every type of incense you would want (yes, Nag Champa included), candles, tarot cards, and other fine products. The music was determinedly Celtic (or faux-Celtic), with a lot of fiddles and flutes and female-voiced ululations, and the store employees were determinedly businesslike.

They had, near the front door, a shelf with a number of prominently-displayed anti-Bush books. This is par for the course in Ann Arbor, naturally, but I’m fascinated by the concept of a “spirituality” bookstore jumping on the partisan bandwagon. I suppose they’re only doing what every other bookstore in their position would do, but it still seems incongruous that customers coming in looking for a little zen or centering or whatever would also want to take home a little political red meat with their $16.00 peace-to-the-world-in-20-languages candle. Just one more example of the “divided electorate,” I guess.

For a new age store, they were about the grumpiest, sourest bunch I’ve ever encountered. I suppose they aren’t paid very much to dust the Goddess figurines and Tibetan prayer squares they’re required to attend to. Also, people weren’t lining up out the door to purchase stuff. And, on a cynical note, recent events in the world haven’t exactly encouraged belief in the supernatural.

But if you can’t find good humor and lightness of soul in a New Age bookshop, where, for crying out loud, can you find it?

Apparently everyone’s not universally thrilled with the new Seattle Public Library.

A blog called Caminothoughts opines:

Will it take half the electricity production of the Skagit River dams just to keep the greenhouse-like building at a tolerable temperature during a warm and sunny summer? This afternoon with a little sun and a large number of visitors, it was close to uncomfortable. Will the stench of the unwashed street people who will soon call the library home, several of them were walking around looking for a place to settle when I visited today, make the air all but unbreathable unless the library becomes a ventilation wind tunnel as its continuous floor plan will facilitate? Will the escalators work, and if so will they become a noise generator just like the escalators in the old central library? Will noise levels in the vast hard-surfaced spaces make the building an aurally uncomfortable place to be, let alone allow it to be a decent place to read, think, and do research?

A Live Journal user chimes in:

On a rainy day like yesterday—and Seattle has plenty of rainy days—the lighting was inadequate, the space gloomy, the area under the slab dim. Yet because it’s the floor that looks up on the vaulted enclosure it somehow manages to be uncomfortable to agoraphobics and claustrophobics alike. All that exposed glass, already covered with sticky children’s pawprints, must be a maintenence nightmare. And the escalators manage to combine the worst of airport sensibilities with creepy Disney-gone-horribly-wrong permanent multimedia “exhibits”. The floor is stainless steel plate held down with machine screws.

I can remember similar critiques of the new San Francisco Main building when it opened in 1996: sterile, cluastrophobic, cold, menacing, unpleasant, a magnet for the homeless. None of which is an invalid criticism.

But it’s a public building. A public library. What design features would have made the library building less enticing to the homeless? Are public libraries supposed to have homeless detectors or security guards at the front door to throw the bums out on their rear ends? Would it be better to have a sign on the front of the building saying “Seattle Public (NON–HOMELESS) Library”?

Oh, and we can’t have “exposed glass” because it will attract “sticky children’s pawprints.” I guess we should just toss the kids out of the library while we’re at it. Libraries are supposed to be antiseptic, germ-free, humanity-free caverns of research and learning, after all.

Maybe the best library model would be one based on the Thatcher Memorial Library in “Citizen Kane.” Thompson, the reporter, has to get an appointment to use the library, in which no books are visible except the single one that Thompson has had to place a request to view. The stern, bun-wearing librarian, Bertha, informs Thompson that he is to read only pages 83 to 142 of the selected volume and tartly tells him, “You will be required to leave this room at 4:30 promptly.”

[First quote courtesy Librarian.net; second courtesy LISNews.]

It just started pouring rain. Forget what I said.

We went to Tios the other night. Very good Mexican restaurant (odd location, though, across the street from the Ann Arbor News building and nothing else around it). The atmosphere was pretty laid-back, the rows and rows of chili bottles lining the walls was a nice touch, and the food, though a little too rich for my increasingly cranky stomach lining, was excellent (and the portions huge).

We went to Seva (a vegetarian restaurant at 314 E. Liberty) last night. Also very good. Actually, excellent. Steve had a bowl of some of the best tomato soup I’ve ever tasted and a breakfast-type plate, I had quesadillas. And a piece of carrot cake. On a related note, a Canadian on some vegetarian discussion list snootily called this restaurant “an oasis in the midst of ‘Nugentland,’” as though the rest of Ann Arbor were nothing but gun racks and road kill. I love Canada, and good ol’ AA may be overrated, but come on.

The New York Times has an amusing article today about blogging. It’s essentially the same idea as most articles or mainstream media treatments these days. Blogging is an addiction (therefore morally suspect), people sit on the toilet and blog into their laptops for hours (even on their anniversaries!!!) and ruin their relationships, people who blog have no lives outside of blogging (so why do they have jobs and relationships, then?), bloggers are only read by immediate family and a few weird lurkers and strangers, people who blog are so obsessed with their activity that they’ll opt to blog instead of doing paying work, etc., etc., etc.

Yes, bloggers are truly a scourge. In this paragraph, the Times encourages the identification of blogging with other unidentified nasty, pernicious, antisocial habits:

Blogging is a pastime for many, even a livelihood for a few. For some, it becomes an obsession. Such bloggers often feel compelled to write several times daily and feel anxious if they don’t keep up. As they spend more time hunkered over their computers, they neglect family, friends and jobs. They blog at home, at work and on the road. They blog openly or sometimes, like Mr. Wiggins, quietly so as not to call attention to their habit.

As Steve points out, if blogs are so unsavory, why did the Times article link to six of them?

The sun seems to be making a reappearance the past two days. It’s in and out, but it’s definitely there. I would say I guess the worst of the rainy weather is over, but I know better anymore than to hazard any guesses about Michigan weather.

One of the State Theater’s recent offerings was “Latter Days.” It was not a great movie, but after seeing it, it’s difficult for me to suppress a chuckle watching those duos and trios of schlumpy, black-suited, backpacked Mormon missionaries who traipse around campus handing out their proselytizing flyers. I saw a group of them hand out their literature this morning to an amused-looking student who smelled as if he’d just smoked a couple of joints. I wonder if the Church gives them debriefings on what to say if any of their interlocutors brings up the movie. My father, who was raised a Mormon, must be spinning in his grave.

From an introduction to an otherwise typically dry BBC story tonight about an international NGO conference:

Host: Hello, Francis.

Reporter: Hello, Max, how are you?

Host: I’m well, thank you. Do carry on.

I know that they’re the coming evil mark of the beast destroyer of privacy hand in glove with the USAPATRIOT Act, but after spending the morning doing inventory for my favorite AA middle school library, I’m beginning to wonder if San Francisco’s position about the joys of RFID technology in library books isn’t so bad after all.

I’m having a great deal of problems this week with my old nemesis, tendonitis (for which I had surgery in 2001), and the repetitive motions of pulling a book out, holding the bar code scanner in my right hand (the bad arm) and pushing the scan button for all of the 800 and 900 classifications of the school’s library is playing hell with me today.

Wouldn’t it be easier to have RFID chips in the books that could be read without such physical pain? Bar codes were a wonderful invention; I can’t imagine having to do this inventory the old fashioned paper way. But I’ll be paying a painful price for this all night long.

Surely there’s a way to moderate the wonderful aspect of the RFID technology and completely protect the privacy of patrons. But we live in extremist times and I’m not holding my breath. Give Johnny Reb Asscroft another four years and the spectre of FBI agents using USAP to drive in front of your house and read the RFID chips in your library books and build a damning reading list just isn’t all that far-fetched, no matter how tinfoil-hattish it sounds.

Speaking of the 800 and 900 classifications … call me an elitist snob but I just still have problems with the biographies. Come on, professional librarians, can’t we have a ‘sports, entertainment and worthless flavor of the minute’ section in biographies? I mean, I HATE shelving that volume of Refrigerator Perry next to Admiral Perry. Dennis Rodman really shouldn’t be keeping company with Eleanor Roosevelt. And oh the indignity of forcing Thomas Jefferson to share shelf space with the likes Michael Jordan and Michael Jackson.

Okay, I’ll shut up now.