Steve Howe, R.I.P.

Steve Howe, who died this week in an early-morning traffic accident, was one of the most memorable Dodgers, and one of the most frustrating and tragic. The Dodgers didn't have a bad 1980s — they were the only baseball team to win two World Championships in that decade — but I'll bet they would have been much more successful if this great lefthanded closer could have stayed sober.

Rookie of the Year in 1980, key to the 1981 team's triumph, Howe entered drug rehab after the near-miss of the 1982 season, was suspended several times in 1983 (but still managed to earn 18 saves with an ERA of 1.44), missed 1984 entirely after the baseball commissioner suspended him, returned in 1985 but was dumped in July after failing to show up for a couple of games.

After bouncing around the minor leagues and a few false starts with major league teams from 1985-91, Howe had a renaissance with the New York Yankees in the 1990s, but only after enduring another cocaine-related suspension in 1992. Substance abuse continued to give him serious problems even after his baseball career was over. Howe's was a case that traditional rehab methods could not cure — although I have no knowledge of whether he was still a user at the time of his death.

Losing Howe in 1983 forced the Dodgers to scramble to replace him, left-handed relievers of that quality being rare beasts. Before the 1984 season, they traded a promising starter, Sid Fernandez, to the Mets for left-handed reliever Carlos Diaz. Diaz was a flop, while Fernandez had a good career, and helped pitch the Mets into the 1986 World Series. Before the 1986 season they traded catcher Steve Yeager — admittedly an old coot by this time — for lefty reliever Ed Vande Berg, but Vande Berg wasn't the answer either, and was released after one season.

Bullpen failures plagued the Dodgers in the post-season throughout the 80s, most notably in 1985, when Howe's replacement as closer, Tom Neidenfeuer, gave up two game-winning home runs in consecutive games against the Cardinals, costing LA another World Series shot. Howe, who played with a combination of nervous energy and steely focus, might have fared better in these high-pressure situations. But it was not to be.

To me, Steve Howe was an emblematic figure of the early 1980s as I experienced them. Everywhere I went, all I heard about was cocaine. I know cocaine played a factor in the thwarted careers and busted families of some talented people I worked with. I can think of other friends who got themselves into very stupid and dangerous situations thanks to cocaine, and are lucky to be alive today. Almost without exception, cocaine made people act like jerks. Was anything more boring than being forced to listen to someone prattle on as if they were a genius, when in fact they were just high on coke? I was no Nancy Reagan, but I hated what cocaine was doing to Los Angeles.

Robin Williams' famous line of the era was "Cocaine is God's way of saying you're making too much money," but the people I knew who got involved with cocaine didn't have Robin Williams' income to fall back on. A lot of heartbreak in the 1980s thanks to cocaine. Maybe Steve Howe's Dodger career is only a small heartbreak in the grand scheme of things, but I took it personally. I wish his talent had given him a better, happier life.

Return of the Drive-In

Springwise.com alerted its subscribers today to MobMov, short for Mobile Movie. From its website:

What is the Mobile Movie?
We are a grassroots movement aimed at bringing back the forgotten joy of the great American drive-in. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, what used to be a dark and decrepit warehouse wall springs to life with the sublime sights and sounds of a big screen movie. Best of all, the MobMov is free.

(snip)

Our goal in creating the MobMov was to create a true "drive-in" experience by enclosing the projector and an FM transmitter inside a car. Participants drive in to a parking lot, tune their radios, and watch their favorite flick from the comfort of their car. As far as we know, we're the first ones to attempt this on a public scale. We didn't create the term "Guerilla Drive-in", but we're the first to use it correctly.

This new approach is better for a variety of reasons. Drive-ins were popular originally because it was like having your own private cineplex – if you wanted privacy, you'd just roll up your windows. If you wanted to be part of a community, you'd roll them down, open your doors, maybe even walk around. Secondly, while a traditional GDI only operates in the summer, you can stay in your car with the heater running while participating in a mobmov. That's rain or shine folks and folketts.

Like everyone my age, I am blessed with several great drive-in movie memories. The first few movies I saw were in drive-ins: One Hundred and One Dalmations, which was appropriate for kids, and Hud, which most certainly was not. I recall scenes from both of these movies vividly–Cruella DeVille's green cigarette smoke and horrible fur lust; Patricia Neal driving up to Paul Newman in a convertible, with a strange knowing look in her eyes.

A few years later, an attractive teenage babysitter took us to the drive-in see the James Bond spoof Casino Royale, with its bevy of 1960s beauties like Ursula Andress and Daliah Lavi, and, well, I still really haven't recovered. The drive-in is such an iconic experience, countless great movie scenes have been set at one — for example American Graffitti and Rebel Without A Cause. Just the other night, I saw a drive-in destroyed in Twister.

The MobMov has a sign-up area that indicates there are showing from Huntsville, Alabama to Winnepeg, Manitoba, but the copy on the site only references showings in Berkeley.

Separated at Birth

We're twins, and we didn't even know it! From Science Blog:

The Binary Research Institute (BRI) has found that orbital characteristics of the recently discovered planetoid, "Sedna", demonstrate the possibility that our sun might be part of a binary star system. A binary star system consists of two stars gravitationally bound orbiting a common center of mass. Once thought to be highly unusual, such systems are now considered to be common in the Milky Way galaxy.

Walter Cruttenden at BRI, Professor Richard Muller at UC Berkeley, Dr. Daniel Whitmire of the University of Louisiana, amongst several others, have long speculated on the possibility that our sun might have an as yet undiscovered companion. Most of the evidence has been statistical rather than physical. The recent discovery of Sedna, a small planet like object first detected by Cal Tech astronomer Dr. Michael Brown, provides what could be indirect physical evidence of a solar companion. Matching the recent findings by Dr. Brown, showing that Sedna moves in a highly unusual elliptical orbit, Cruttenden has determined that Sedna moves in resonance with previously published orbital data for a hypothetical companion star.

What's the Binary Research Institute? It's a scientific research organization based in Newport Beach "formed in 2001 to support and fund research regarding the hypothesis that the Sun is part of a binary star system. It is the goal of the Binary Research Institute to present evidence for this theory, showing that the motion of the sun along a binary orbital path can result in and better explain" various phenomena such as the Earth's wobbling rotation, and help us understand the movement of our solar system through the Milky Way.

Its founder is Walter W. Cruttenden, a private investor, amateur astronomer and archeoastronomer. (I must admit, his organization's name makes me a little suspicious. It's one thing to begin a scientific inquiry with a hypothesis, but if I founded the "Life on Mars Institute," wouldn't that insert bias into the whole enterprise? Just asking.)

If our Sun has a partner, shouldn't we be able to see it? Not necessarily. According to the Institute,

there could be a dark binary, such as a brown dwarf or possibly a relatively small black hole, either of which might be very difficult to detect, without accurate and lengthy analysis.

Beyond direct detection – one way to determine if we are in a binary system is to see if the Sun is curving through space. To us on Earth that means we should experience a gradual “changing orientation to inertial space.” Such a phenomenon is observed as the precession of the equinox.

Precession of the equinox refers to the fact that the stars are fixed, but over a 25,800-year period, their position in the sky relative to Earth completes a cycle. Lots of guesses as to why, but no firm findings. The Institute believes our Sun's secret friend might explain it. 

If this hypothesis is true, it would be big news to us, but it wouldn't be all that remarkable. Many easily observable stars are part of binary systems. Our partner might be very far away, completing a distant orbit — a dancer on the other side of the ballroom. And, as suggested above, it might not be visible. Black holes don't emit light, and brown dwarves cannot sustain nuclear fusion and thus burn only dimly.

Being followed by something big that we can't see…a paranoia-inducing concept! Somehow I'm reminded of my misspent youth, when police cars sometimes followed my pals and me in the wee hours with their lights off, only to reveal themselves at the last minute to determine if we were up to no good. (Fortunately, we were all choirboys, pure at heart.)

If You Really Want to Punish Michael Hiltzik…

…give him back his blog, and turn on the comments.

Michael Hiltzik is the LA Times columnist and blogger who was busted by Patterico for using pseudonyms to praise himself and zing his foes. Patterico did Hiltzik’s readers a real service, in a couple of ways. First, obviously, he caught Hiltzik in the act of trying to create a false impression of support for his viewpoints. The comments attributed to Hiltzik’s alter-egos tended toward vapid ad hominem attacks on bloggers who don’t like him (e.g. Cathy Seipp, Hugh Hewitt, Patterico himself), which further showed Hiltzik up as a kind of Internet graffiti artist.

Patterico’s discovery prompted Hiltzik to write an appallingly disingenous self-defense, in which he characterizes his nemesis’ detective work as an attack on pseudonyms! It is very revealing of how Hiltzik’s mind apparently works:

Of course, (Patterico’s) real goal isn’t to make all his commenters disclose their real names or to delve into the ethical and moral dimensions of Internet anonymity. It’s to quash debate on his blog. His sensitivity to criticism has been evident ever since he was first confronted with it—in a pair of postings here this year in which I serially demolished his supposed proofs of the Times’s supposed bias. One of the most easily-goaded bloggers on the right, he’s never recovered from the shock of being challenged.

The Patterico comment threads are generally filled with quacking lunatics agreeing with each other, punctuated by the occasional voice of reason. Now those few dissenting voices will disappear, because Frey has signaled a new policy on anonymity: that it’s granted, but only if you toe the Patterico Party Line. Why should anybody subject themselves to his selective exposure?

I have a sidebar link to Michael Hiltzik’s column, and it will stay there, because I think Michael Hiltzik is one of the Times’ best prose artists. I often disagree with him, and I think he stacks the deck against the targets of his screeds by mischaracterizing their positions. However, he’s never boring, and can be powerfully persuasive. The discovery of Hiltzik’s craven need to demonstrate that his audience approves of him by pretending to be one of them certainly diminishes my respect for him; but lots of writers much better than Hiltzik have done things far more disgraceful than this.

I violently disagree, however, with how the Times has chosen to react: Suspending Hiltzik’s blog, which the editors announced, and switching off all future comments, which they did without telling anyone.

No: Leave Micheal Hiltzik right where he is. Make him try to redeem himself by letting him write, not by silencing him. Let his friends and foes write too. Patterico has long suspected Hiltzik blocks some critical comments on his blog. Don’t permit him to do that anymore. He should take his lumps. If he wants to portray himself as a victim, let’s see him try. If he’s ready to be contrite, let him put it out there, but on his own timetable and in his own words, not via a forced confession dictated by Tribune Company flacks.

Hiltzik’s got a big fat target on his back now. The right is after him. The Times-bashers are after him. Even some embarassed liberal bloggers are after him. It’s an existential moment. His betrayed readers deserve the chance to see him work his way through it. If he’s not tough enough to take the heat, let it be his choice to withdraw. But corporate muzzling is cheesy, tin-eared behavior by the Times.

UPDATE (5/1/06): Well, the Times did the cheesy thing and took away Hiltzik’s blog and his business-section column. But they didn’t fire him, and they handed him an interesting new beat, “sports investigations.” Perhaps they’re envious of the kudos the San Francisco Chronicle’s been getting for its BALCO scoops. It’s a compliment to Hiltzik’s strong writing and reporting skills that they’re keeping him around. But it still sticks in my craw that the Times believes it’s appropriate to “take away” his blog. The whole point of a blog is that it is individual free expression, not a “product” like a sports or news column.

My link to Hiltzik’s blog will remain until the Times removes the content. So far, they haven’t.

Zero Tolerance for Anti-Wind Energy NIMBYism

Has it only been a couple of years since environmental groups wrestled states and public utilities into making commitments to significant boosts in renewable power?

When notoriously conservative utilities said yes, it was largely because their experts were telling them that wind-energy was becoming viable and cost-competitive. Now, the environmental community is very excited about wind power projects — excited about killing them off, I mean.

From Anne Applebaum's column in Wednesday's Washington Post:

Already, activists and real estate developers have stalled projects across Pennsylvania, West Virginia and New York. In Western Maryland, a proposal to build wind turbines alongside a coal mine, on a heavily logged mountaintop next to a transmission line, has just been nixed by state officials who called it too environmentally damaging. Along the coast of Nantucket, Mass. — the only sufficiently shallow spot on the New England coast — a coalition of anti-wind groups and summer homeowners, among them the Kennedy family, also seems set to block Cape Wind, a planned offshore wind farm. Their well-funded lobbying last month won them the attentions of Rep. Don Young (R-Alaska), who, though normally an advocate of a state's right to its own resources, has made an exception for Massachusetts and helped pass an amendment designed to kill the project altogether.

The brand-name environmental groups seem fearful of taking on well-funded local anti-wind energy organizations that are systematically destroying the potential of an energy source that is the very definition of renewable. The environmental community needs to change course. Their credibility is at stake. The environmental community earned its way to the adults' table in making energy policy, but there's still a high-chair open at the baby table; and that's where they're headed if this nonsense doesn't stop.

Capturing energy from renewable sources will be land-intensive. There are a limited number of suitable areas. Wind power needs to be harvested where it's windy. Solar power needs access to the sun. Geothermal power is here and there, but not everywhere. To secure and distribute enough of this energy to replace fossil fuels at the percentages contemplated in Renewable Portfolio Standards will require building structures that most would deem less attractive than, say, a rustic old bridge or a weeping willow tree.

But if you want to seriously tackle the oil economy and make a dent in global warming — get over it, and let them build windmills.

“When Two Black Holes Collide, Space Shivers Like Jello.”

It's all over the news: NASA has simulated what happens when two black holes collide. This is a case, however, where the visual doesn't convey the magnitude of the achievement. Words do. From CNet (via ZDNet):

When two black holes collide, space shivers like Jell-O. With the help of a supercomputer to simulate this event, NASA seeks to prove Albert Einstein's theories and unveil universe's secrets.

The NASA supercomputer Columbia just performed its largest astrophysical calculation ever; a 3D simulation of two black holes merging. "This merger is a cataclysmic event, second only to the Big Bang in the amount of energy it produces," Joan Centrella, chief of the NASA Gravitational Astrophysics Laboratory in Greenbelt, Md., said Tuesday in a press teleconference.

NASA called the successful simulation a breakthrough in the observation of black holes, as well as the understanding of the entire universe. In fact, NASA claims that it might even provide the ultimate proof for Einstein's theory of general relativity.

And from ScienceBlog,

Previous simulations had been plagued by computer crashes. The necessary equations, based on Einstein's theory of general relativity, were far too complex. But scientists at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md., have found a method to translate Einstein's math in a way that computers can understand.

"These mergers are by far the most powerful events occurring in the universe, with each one generating more energy than all of the stars in the universe combined. Now we have realistic simulations to guide gravitational wave detectors coming online," said Joan Centrella, head of the Gravitational Astrophysics Laboratory at Goddard.

The simulations were performed on the Columbia supercomputer at NASA's Ames Research Center near Mountain View, Calif. This work appears in the March 26 issue of Physical Review Letters and will appear in an upcoming issue of Physical Review D. The lead author is John Baker of Goddard.

Similar to ripples on a pond, gravitational waves are ripples in space and time, a four-dimensional concept that Einstein called spacetime. They haven't yet been directly detected.

Gravitational waves hardly interact with matter and thus can penetrate the dust and gas that blocks our view of black holes and other objects. They offer a new window to explore the universe and provide a precise test for Einstein's theory of general relativity. The National Science Foundation's ground-based Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory and the proposed Laser Interferometer Space Antenna, a joint NASA – European Space Agency project, hope to detect these subtle waves, which would alter the shape of a human from head to toe by far less than the width of an atom.

Black hole mergers produce copious gravitational waves, sometimes for years, as the black holes approach each other and collide. Black holes are regions where gravity is so extreme that nothing, not even light, can escape their pull. They alter spacetime. Therein lies the difficulty in creating black hole models: space and time shift, density becomes infinite and time can come to a standstill. Such variables cause computer simulations to crash.

If he were alive today, I suppose Einstein would be unsurprised by this. He would also note that he didn't use a computer to figure it out.

Just People Talking

Jeff Jarvis' Buzz Machine continues to impress me. Jarvis is a blog-evangelist, without question, and his focus is always on the future. But he's not overly impressed with himself, nor does he pump up the blog phenomenon to be more than it really is. In a post yesterday, he reports that some of the early, innovative bloggers he admires have become disappointed in the form.

Specifically, Matt Welch, an early and much-admired blogger who now works on the editorial pages of the Los Angeles Times, might have set his expectations a bit too high when he started his blog shortly after 9/11 — which started a genre that was called "warblogging." Jarvis quotes Welch from a recent Reason essay:

“What do warbloggers have in common, that most pundits do not?” I enthused. “I’d say a yen for critical thinking, a sense of humor that actually translates into people laughing out loud, a willingness to engage (and encourage) readers, a hostility to the Culture War and other artifacts of the professionalized left-right split of the 1990s…a readiness to admit error [and] a sense of collegial yet brutal peer review.”

Man, was I wrong….

To which Jarvis replies:

I think the problem starts when people get big enough to think that they speak for others… just like newspaper editorial pages. The real blogger speaks only for himself or herself. It’s just people talking.

It's hard not to get excited when you're at the forefront of a new communications media, as Jarvis and Welch both were. But while bloggers serve as sources of news and opinion for their readers, what makes this media truly unique is the way communities form around them–communities of people talking.

That's why I don't understand bloggers who refuse to allow comments on their posts. Too many of the most popular bloggers, especially those associated with the right, apparently are repulsed by the inane and obscene chatter that fills up comment areas on left-wing blogs, and fear that the left-wingers will clog their sites with the same angry bleats.

So? Make rules.

My favorite site, DodgerThoughts, has rules. Jon Weisman won't tolerate any four-letter words, and if one commenter attacks another personally, the comments are removed. If you want to post, just play by those rules.

The site flourishes. On Easter Sunday, about 600 comments were posted before, during and after the day's game. The comments Jon gets are disproportionately witty, informed and interesting –and some of them are stupid. But I think a reverse Gresham's Law works on his site and others like it — the good comments drive out the bad. People like their online community, and work with the site's owner to protect the conversation space they've created. Commenters will state a certain comment is out of line even before Jon notices it. What's really fun to see is when some of the regulars gang up on a nasty interloper, and drive them into submission through clever mockery–like Cyrano de Bergerac.

Jarvis says the blog-conversation takes place across different blogs, and that's certainly true too. Some of the comment-less blogs do a lot of linking, and respond to what's been said about their own posts. Fair enough, but not a good reason to block comments. A blog without comments is an incomplete experience — like a movie without music.

“Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!”

For me, April 2006 has been a month of extreme darkness and extreme light, a time when one could attest to the worst suspicions about the nature of humanity — or the brightest vision of it.

Part of my problem in life, perhaps, is a temperamental refusal to see the worst in people. In high school, my smart-ass comments earned me the title of Cynic. In response, I spent the next 30 years of my life trying not to be one — maybe to a fault.

Nevertheless, my "always look on the bright side of life" mentality lets me be joyful when joy is called for. And joy was clearly called for last Friday night when I watched my son perform opening night of his high school's production of "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum," the 1962 Stephen Sondheim musical.

We had 15 members of my family in the audience, many of them visiting for Easter. The auditorium was loaded with friends of cast members, friends who cheer insanely when said cast member first appears, and then again when they take their curtain call. My son had more than a few girls screaming for him, like he was a Beatle.

He first opens his mouth when he sings a line or two in the show's first and most famous song, "Comedy Tonight." It was a startling moment: When did he become a baritone? Does it have anything to do with the sudden sprout of dark hair above his lips?

He has one big number, fairly early in the show. The show is a bit risque (although compared to what kids can see on cable TV after school, it's chaste). His song has more than its share of suggestive lines, which is not too surprising, since he's a brothel-keeper introducing his flock. But I wasn't expecting him to be so lecherously funny. In real life, my son is rather chivalrous and would never say such things, but onstage, he was way too convincing. Maybe he has a secret side.

What am I saying, of course he has a secret side!

At the end of the show, of course, I'm in tears. Not just proud of my son, I'm proud of everyone on the stage, and grateful that they have such a marvelous director/teacher who has given each of them exactly what they need to succeed when the spotlight goes on. This is a cast of kids who trust each other, and trust that if they work hard and do what their teacher tells them, the audience will love them.

Teachers are no longer given automatic respect anywhere in society — not from kids, not from parents, not from government. When Hillary Clinton wrote "it takes a village to raise a child," her advocacy for teachers and other social support systems had the perverse backlash effect of elevating the role of parents as the sole appropriate source for childhood instruction and character development. But I look at my son's drama teacher as a critical partner in raising him right now. She has taught him the values of responsibility, teamwork and being prepared far more effectively than I have managed to do so far.

At the end of the show, I gather with much of the audience outside the doors from which the actors will emerge. I've gotten used to sharing him with his friends and fans. He hugs his fellow actors. He hugs his cheering section. Someone gives him flowers. Finally, he catches my eye, comes over and hugs me — but just for a nanosecond. In high school, you're barely supposed to acknowledge that you even have parents. He's a bit more demonstrative with the 14 other family members who've come to see him. He is clearly elated. He worried about the show all week, but he knows the cast did a good job because he heard us laughing. If you're onstage in a comedy, you measure every laugh.

My wife and I hang around for a few minutes, watching the hug-fest. Eventually, the cast and many of their friends will go off to a cast party. I'm sure it was a celebration, although, of course, he tells me nothing of what went on there.

The big, tuneful opening number has been running through my head all weekend. This could pass for my credo:

Nothing with kings, nothing with crowns;
Bring on the lovers, liars and clowns!

Old situations,
New complications,
Nothing portentous or polite;
Tragedy tomorrow,
Comedy tonight!

New Look #2

I liked that moon, but WordPress made some other changes I didn't like to the template I've been using. So I found this one. The whooshing title I could live without, but I like how this template is organized. So: A different look.

Rough Ride for Smooth Jazz

There is hardly a genre of music I can't say something good about. Every style of music has its resident genius. Maybe all the imitators, the ones cashing in, are terrible. But somewhere, either at the root of a style, or off on an eccentric branch, I think a music fan can find performances and compositions that can change your ears, and the stuff between them.

That said, I can barely tolerate the style now known as "smooth jazz." The term itself strikes me as obscene. Jazz is a provocative art form. You listen to Louis Armstrong even now, you hear someone chasing the limits of freedom, unfettered and unruly. Everyone who followed from Armstrong — Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, Bud Powell, Bill Evans, John Coltrane, Horace Silver, dozens of others — sure, they could be cool, but they were never smooth.

Jazz is meant to be noticed. "Smooth jazz" is meant not to be. It has more in common with the Wyndham Hill style — soundscapes for relaxation and meditation, with no edges to snag your coat.

You don't often run into well-written essays in defense of "smooth jazz," so when I ran across this link on ArtsJournal, I figured I should give the writer, respected music critic J.D. Considine, a chance to enlighten me:

Nearly everyone knows the cliché version of the smooth sound. There's a soprano sax playing a melody line, a synthesized electric piano filling in the harmony, and a gently funky groove laid down by six-string bass guitar and drums. It's a formula familiar to anyone who has ever been put on hold, ridden in an elevator or tuned into the Weather Network for the local forecast.

Saxophonist Kenny G — who doesn't, by the way, consider his music jazz –is generally credited with having established that template, but radio stations and record companies generally get the blame for its having come to define the genre.

"Even if one is thinking about elevator music, or Weather Channel music, there isn't any necessity for that music to be bad music," says Bob James. "I remind people all the time that Mozart would probably sound great in an elevator. A lot of Mozart is very smooth to our ears, but that doesn't mean there isn't an amazing amount of subtlety there for the listener who digs deeper."

The problem, as he sees it, is that marketers and business people have tried to reduce the creative process to a commercial formula, which gets imposed on music and musicians. "The best example in our genre is when the guidelines given for what would be a commercially viable smooth-jazz recording — one they could guarantee would get played on smooth-jazz radio –would be a recording that doesn't have any solos in it," he says. "They've either been edited out or cut back so far that it's what the formula has demanded, a melody that repeats over and over again, with a funky rhythm in the background.

Hmm. Mozart would sound good in an elevator. But that doesn't mean all elevator music merits comparison to Mozart. And it sounds like Bob James is aware that his chosen genre has been contaminated by the crassest of commercial considerations. I'd like to see what would've happened if a music consultant tried to give "guidelines" to Miles Davis. A broken nose would have been the likely outcome.

As much as Considine's piece is worth reading, I do object to some of the artists he associates with "smooth jazz." There's a lot more going on in Norah Jones' music than would fit any specific genre, least of all "smooth jazz." Pat Matheny developed a weirdly narcotized tone for his guitar, but he's a thrilling soloist, and was a pioneer.

Considine avoids one obvious word: Sex. Let's face it, for most fans, "smooth jazz" is optimal music for trysts. But then…so is Mozart.

Stop Underestimating People

"The consumer isn't a moron; she is your wife. You insult her intelligence if you assume that a mere slogan and a few vapid adjectives will persuade her to buy anything."

This is one of the best-known quotes from "the father of advertising," David Ogilvy. And one of the most forgotten.

I was reminded of Ogilvy's philosophy when reading today's column by political pundit Joe Klein. There are a lot of "now he tells us" anecdotes about the 2000 and 2004 Democratic presidential campaigns, whose failures Klein blames on political consultants. Consultants told Al Gore not to talk about the environment. Their research told them swing-state voters didn't care about it. Al Gore wrote a pathbreaking book about global warming in 1992, but in 2000 told voters by his silence that a potential global catastrophe was no longer on his radar screen.

Four years later, consultants told John Kerry to be cautious in addressing Abu Ghraib, because focus-group research strongly suggested voters were in a forgiving mood about torture. John Kerry achieved fame–or infamy depending on your point of view–for accusing American soldiers in Vietnam of atrocities on the battlefield, but by 2004 could not be roused to criticize atrocities committed against defenseless prisoners.

The consultants must have thought their counsel was so wise, so sophisticated. Why didn't it work? Because voters made the connections the consultants didn't think they were capable of making.

Everyone knew Gore was a "green." Avoiding the subject made him appear surreptitious about it. Everyone know Kerry was a controversial war protester in his youth. By not carrying that aspect of his character forward into the campaign, it seemed like Kerry had conceded that critics of his past anti-war stands were right — including the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth his campaign was busily trying to discredit. Letting Kerry speak his true mind was a luxury his campaign consultants didn't think he could afford:

"We're going to meet the voters where they are," (Robert) Shrum had told me early in the Kerry campaign, which sounded innocent enough—but what he really meant was, We're going to follow our polling numbers and focus groups. We're going to emphasize the things that voters think are important. In fact, Shrum had it completely wrong. Presidential campaigns are not about "meeting the voters where they are." They are about leadership and character. Mark Mellman, Kerry's lead pollster, figured that out too late. "If you asked people what they were most interested in, they would say jobs, education and health care," he later said. "But they thought the President should be interested in national security."

I'm really not trying to revisit Democratic disasters for the masochistic joy of it. Neither is Klein. He's trying to look beyond the consultant-ad buyer complex. He predicts, or hopes, that in 2008,

(the) winner will be the candidate who comes closest to this model: a politician who refuses to be a "performer," at least in the current sense. Who speaks but doesn't orate. Who never holds a press conference on or in front of an aircraft carrier. Who doesn't assume the public is stupid or uncaring. Who believes in at least one major idea, or program, that has less than 40% support in the polls. Who can tell a joke—at his or her own expense, if possible. Who gets angry, within reason; gets weepy, within reason … but only if those emotions are real and rare. Who isn't averse to kicking his or her opponent in the shins but does it gently and cleverly. Who radiates good sense, common decency and calm. Who is not afraid to deliver bad news. Who is not afraid to admit a mistake.

I don't know if there are any Democratic candidates out there confident enough to blow off high-priced consultants' advice so calmly. To me, the lesson from all this is should go out beyond the political community. Anyone doing PR, marketing or advertising–if you think you're fooling anyone, you're only kidding yourself. If your client has hired you to put one over on the public, try to talk them out of it. If they won't listen — walk away, because you can't succeed, and when you fail, the client will blame you.

Talk About Zen P.R.!**

I know I was going to shut up for most of April, but this is too interesting to overlook:

At first glance, the video looks like a typical 30-second car commercial: a shiny sport utility vehicle careers down a country road lined with sunflower fields, jaunty music playing in the background.

Then, white lettering appears on the screen: "$70 to fill up the tank, which will last less than 400 miles. Chevy Tahoe."

The commercial is the product of one of the advertising industry's latest trends: user-generated advertising. On March 13, Chevrolet introduced a Web site allowing visitors to take existing video clips and music, insert their own words and create a customized 30-second commercial for the 2007 Chevrolet Tahoe.

In theory, the company was hoping that visitors to its Web site would e-mail their own videos around the Web, generating interest for the Tahoe through what is known as viral marketing. By the measure of Chevrolet Tahoe videos circulating the blogosphere and the video-hosting Web sites like YouTube, that goal was achieved. But the videos that were circulated most widely like the commercial that attacked the S.U.V. for its gas mileage, may not be what Chevrolet had in mind.

Nor was the ad using a sweeping view of the Tahoe driving through a desert. "Our planet's oil is almost gone," it said. "You don't need G.P.S. to see where this road leads."

Youtube.com is full of examples of these user-generated Chevy Tahoe ads that attack the whole idea of Chevy Tahoes as responsible for global warming or imminent oil shortages. But they're not all environmental lectures. This one takes a Freudian perspective on the whole notion of conspicuous consumption, as does this one, albeit more crudely.

A couple of months ago, I wrote a post about the potential for a Maybelline cosmetics site to be hijacked by those who hated the product. It appeared to me that the Maybelline people had probably accounted for that possibility, and figured that since negative comments were going to be made anyway, why hide from them? Chevrolet's advertisers have apparently come to the same conclusion, according to the New York Times:

A spokeswoman for Chevrolet, Melisa Tezanos, said the company did not plan to shut down the anti-S.U.V. ads.

"We anticipated that there would be critical submissions," Ms. Tezanos said. "You do turn over your brand to the public, and we knew that we were going to get some bad with the good. But it's part of playing in this space."

Drew Neisser, the president and chief executive at Renegade Marketing, a New York agency specializing in nontraditional marketing that is part of Dentsu, said companies had such a strong desire for user-generated advertising that they were willing to accept the risks. "There's this gold rush fever about consumer-generated content," he said. "Everybody wants to have consumer-generated content, and Chevy Tahoe doesn't want to be left behind."

Is it just that they're "willing to accept the risks?" Or are marketers finally deciding to participate in the real conversations about their products, the ones that say "yes, but…?"

Wouldn't it be great if political ads were opened up this way? Where, instead of shoving a message down your throat, a candidate would allow voters to express themselves about their platforms? And why are only advertisers of consumer products taking this alleged "risk?" Wouldn't a smart PR campaign also make room for critics and for, y'know, reality?*

I'm confident the people at Chevrolet are aware that some consumers will never buy an SUV strictly due to environmental concerns, and that others are conflicted and would appreciate some respect being given to their hesitancy. Letting customers joke about it shows the company is in touch. Going a step further would be to say, "We hear you" and respond in a way that treats these concerns thoughfully.

*(The best example is, of course, Amazon. If you put your product on Amazon, customers can review it. Many people, before buying a product, will check to see if it's on Amazon — not only to buy it there, but to see what other consumers think. Consumer reviews on Amazon have been decisive in many purchases I have made, both positively and negatively. Marketers obviously think it's worth "the risks" of having their products trashed in exchange for having them sold through Amazon. So why shouldn't you take the next step, and let consumers have their say on your own site…and then get into a conversation with them?)

**A few additions and edits made on 4/5/06.

A Few Updates

Time to catch breath. I've blogged on far more topics than I expected to when I started this up. I have received so many kind comments, both on- and off-line. I intend to continue it indefinitely, because I love writing it.

Some of the things I've blogged about deserve another quick look:

Salute to Ray Davies was prompted by the upcoming release of the longtime Kinks' leader's first solo album. I expressed nervousness about whether the CD would be good. The late Kinks albums were pretty weak.

Well, the album, "Other People's Lives" is out and it's not merely good, it's great from beginning to end. It manages to capture everything fans love about Ray, and yet sound quite different from anything he's done before. That might be because, as he explains in the liner notes, his Kinks songs were written in the studio, which suggests they were written to order, on deadline, with an expensive clock running, perhaps a little slapdash. This time, Davies labored his songs. He risked overthinking, but the extra effort pays off. I can't tell you what my favorite song is yet. There might be a "Waterloo Sunset"-level masterpiece among them.

Some will miss that shambling Kinks style. Ray's brother Dave was a guitarist of little technique and a lot of attitude. The skilled session musicians on the new one, aided by digital recording technology, come up with a much different sound — more rhythmic, more soulful, more American. Davies' vocals are strong and, as in his best Kinks music, very human. "Other People's Lives" is not to be missed.

I asked "Will There Be Flowers?" in Borrego Springs this March. I didn't make it out there, but apparently there is only a limited bloom due to the late-arriving rainfall. Things are a little more colorful in Death Valley. North of Los Angeles, the California Poppy Reserve is flourishing, and probably worth a trip. Check this site for desert wildflowers sightings throughout the desert southwest.

Hee Seop Choi is on the Red Sox's disabled list. His Dodger replacement, Nomar Garciaparra, looks like he's heading there, too, along with another new Dodger Codger, Kenny Lofton. To paraphrase Earl Weaver, Ned Colletti just got a lot dumber, and a lot closer to his injury snake-bit predecessor, Paul DePodesta.

The Tunguska meteor theory of global warming hasn't picked up much traction, although one of my commenters endorsed it. I'm not sure if I even endorse it! But I like asking questions.

Nobody's bought the former Knight-Ridder newspapers that McClatchy put up for sale, but bids are coming in, including a combined bid from the Newspaper Guild and Ron Burkle's L.A.-based Yucaipa investment firm.

Blogging turns out to be a good way to connect with old friends and forgotten enthusiasms. I wrote about the history of Elliot Mintz, spokesman for Paris Hilton and, before that, John Lennon, and got lots of great memories of 60s and 70s radio lore in the comments area. This blog has put my family and me back in touch with several long-lost friends — what could be more gratifying? People my age are starting to finally live their dreams, to rethink their careers, and to cherish the good health of their loved ones. It's also been wonderful to hear from other bloggers whose work I greatly respect, and from my fellow denizens of the greatest site on the whole Internet, Dodger Thoughts. Your kind words about this site mean so much to me.

Back in December, I started this blog with a somewhat dramatic, breathless recounting of the last three weeks of my last job — including a ferry ride across an icy lake that struck me as symbolic of my situation. In that post, I mentioned that, shortly after I lost that job, I was indicted. Now, 15 months later, I finally get my trial, starting tomorrow.

I've gotten so many wonderful notes of support and good wishes, and I'm so grateful for them. Many of these notes say something to the effect of, "You must be so stressed out." Well, the adrenaline is certainly pumping; I'm highly alert. But, no, I'm not stressed out. I'm a fortunate person. I have an amazing wife, a wonderful son, a brilliant and supportive family, and so many great friends. And, I believe our justice system ultimately will be fair.

During the trial, which will last about four weeks, blogging here will be light. There might be a guest comment or two. I'm not going to use this site to address my case while it is going on. If I do post, it will be the usual stuff I write about. Whatever that is.

Lt. Colonel Hank Meierdierk, R.I.P.

"Blogged in the desert" links to an obituary for Lt. Colonel Hank Meierdierk, who died March 21st at 84. If that name is not familiar to you, reflect on all the stories you've read about people seeing UFOs while driving through the desert at night. Back in the 1950s and 60s, Lt. Col Meierdierk was the pilot of many of those UFOs.

Meierdierk is one of the last survivors of a group called Roadrunners Internationale who, in their younger years, worked at the secret Area 51 military base near Las Vegas. That's the place UFOlogists evoke to symbolize the alleged government cover-up of its contacts with alien space beings. Supposedly, an alien spacecraft crash-landed near Roswell, NM, and was taken to Area 51 for study to determine potential military applications.

You don't need to add science fiction to make Area 51 interesting. According to this 2005 story from KLAS-TV in Las Vegas, the Roadrunners were Air Force officers, CIA officers and defense contractors, working together on the U.S. fleet of spy planes — the U-2, the A-12 and the SR 71.

Harry Martin worked on the fuel system of the A-12 and was at Groom Lake for the very first flight.

"It is still the fastest and highest flying aircraft in the world," said Harry Martin who worked on the A-12 spy plane. This year marks the 50th anniversary of both the Groom Lake base and the U-2 spy plane.

Some of the Roadrunners were at Groom Lake from day one and were the first to fly the so-called Dragon Lady. "We were up in the unknown realm at that particular time. For example, I had the altitude record three times, and Ray Goudy had it three times. We were exchanging it, going higher and higher when the aircraft could," said Lt. Col. Hank Meierdierck, former CIA employee and U-2 pilot.

The Lt. Colonel had to use a code name even among other military men. He and the others would be gone for weeks at a time but could not even tell their wives what they were doing, which prompted jokes that maybe the wives thought the men had a second family somewhere.

Some of the family members are hearing the real stories for the first time, and the Roadrunners are making a concerted effort to preserve the history of those heady days.

"For many years, we couldn't talk about anything we did. They've taken the lid off it where we can, so while we still can mentally and physically, we're going to get some of the stories out," said T.D. Barnes, former CIA electronics expert.

These super-secret aircraft had to be tested, and it was over the desert landscapes of Nevada, Utah, Arizona and California where they flew. Drivers on the long and lonely highways would see lighted objects in the sky moving in ways that appeared other-worldly, and that's how many UFO legends were born.

It's still going on, according to KLAS reporter George Knapp's frequent reports, including this one from February:

The world's most advanced warplane, the F-22 Raptor, will be coming to Nellis Air Force base later this year for operations testing. But could there be other miracle machines flying in Nevada skies?

(snip)

Witnesses from the edges of Nevada military ranges have reported seeing some unusual aircraft over the past few years. "Nearly everyone up here has seen something," one resident said.

One craft that's been seen in the vicinity of the secret Groom Lake military base looks just like the Stealth fighter, except it's bigger. Chuck Clark is an inveterate sky watcher and saw one last year.

"I saw it going west to east across the Valley, 1,000 feet above the ground," Clark said. "It had a chase plane, an F-15. The F-15 was markedly smaller."

In reality, an F-15 and F-117 are nearly identical in size. Prominent aviation writers say they've heard rumors about a so-called super size stealth fighter, but the program has not been confirmed. Such a plane would be valuable because it could carry more bombs than the stealth we know today. Clark figures the military wanted to show it off "by flying it across the Valley in broad daylight. They can't have a press conference since they don't exist."

Roadrunners Internationale has a rich, Flash-animated website that's worth checking out for the many photos, articles and recollections of this fascinating, underappreciated aspect of Cold War history. The site now features an extensive obituary for Lt. Col. Meierdierk:

Those in the Roadrunner organization are happy to know that Hank's departure on his final flight was launched from Cloud Nine. At the Roadrunner reunion last October Hank received an award from the CIA in recognition of his contribution to the early CIA U-2 program at Area 51. Additionally, Hank was subsequently recognized in various ceremonies recognizing the 50th anniversary of the arrival of the U-2 Dragonlady spyplane at Area 51.

Roadrunners Internationale's slogan is priceless:

In God We Trust – All Others We Monitor

Borrowed Time in San Francisco

Matt Stone and Trey Parker are the greatest satirists of our era, and like the true satirists of centuries past, they are essentially conservative, in the classic sense of the word. Whatever is new, trendy, popular, wherever they find complacency or conventional wisdom — that's where they attack.

Some non-classic conservatives have embraced them (there is actually a book entitled "South Park Conservatives") as allies, but the Stone/Parker version of conservatism has no more respect for the religious right or neocon policies than it does for liberal pieties.

It was two liberal sacred cows that got savaged in this week's South Park: Hybrid vehicles — or to be specific, the pompous vanity of some hybrid owners — and the city of San Francisco.

As Kyle discovers, not only does everyone in San Francisco drive a hybrid; every time a San Franciscan passes gas, they bend over and take a big whiff of it. In one scene, Kyle's father offers a party guest a choice of wines, but the guest only wants a empty glass, which he proceeds to position behind him. He lets one rip, brings the glass up to his nose and inhales deeply. The children of San Franciscans are so repelled by their extremely self-satisfied parents, they have no choice but to take drugs in massive quantities.

As ridiculous as some San Franciscans might be, in the next few weeks there will be many opportunities to worry about their fate. April 18th is the 100th anniversary of the great 1906 quake and fire. A nearly 300-mile rip along the San Andreas Fault that, in a matter of seconds, shifted one part of California up to 24 feet, the quake has had no parallel in California since then. The only U.S. comparison in immediate memory would be Hurricane Katrina's massive devastation of New Orleans. In terms of loss of life, it was about the same as 9/11.

Since 1906, the Bay Area has been relatively fortunate. The 1989 Loma Prieta quake was a major, catastrophic event, but nowhere near as powerful or widespread as '06. But Loma Prieta was the first major quake to hit S.F. since 1911. By comparison, as this USGS chart shows, there was a relative flurry of large and damaging smaller quakes in the area. From 1836-1911, there were eight quakes of magnitude 6.5 or higher.

This month's American Heritage magazine has an essay written by former U.S. Geological Survey official John Dvorak. He takes us on a walking tour of San Francisco and looks for traces of the pre-1906 city, the quake's damage and, chillingly, the areas most likely to suffer massive damage in the next big one.

The whole essay's worth reading, but I found this passage especially haunting:

I hurry west along Washington Street three more blocks, passing the dazzling white Transamerica Pyramid, the most distinctive building in San Francisco’s skyline, and reach Montgomery Street. At last I am standing on firm ground. Montgomery Street, often called the financial center of the West, roughly follows the original shoreline of San Francisco Bay, which ran close to the base of Nob Hill. The six blocks from here to the current waterfront are all “made” ground, land literally manufactured by filling the bay with sand, garbage, rotting trees, and other detritus. Scores of abandoned wooden ships were scuttled and lie beneath this section of San Francisco. Made ground is loose and unstable. It takes on the character of a liquid when shaken, such as during an earthquake. Imagine standing on a pile of loose sand. Shuffle your feet back and forth quickly. They sink into the sand. The same thing happens when the ground shakes around a building that is not set on firm ground.

Most of the destruction and the five deaths in San Francisco caused by an 1868 earthquake, which originated across the bay in Hayward, happened here. Extensive damage also occurred here in 1906, as well as in other areas of the city built over made ground. The City Hall, then at the corner of McAllister and Larkin Streets, had been built on shaky underpinnings—the site of the city’s first cemetery. The 1906 City Hall was the grandest and largest municipal building on the West Coast. It took more than 20 years to build and only two minutes to collapse. Today the main branch of San Francisco’s library occupies the site, housed in a six-story building that looks more like a bunker than a municipal ornament. Its inside is braced with steel rods and girders, some set at inconvenient angles. At the main entrance, inside a glass case, are artifacts, including bottles, broken chinaware, and a wedding ring.

For 30 years I have walked the streets of San Francisco, taking photographs. My goal is to document the city before the next major earthquake. I have often wondered how San Francisco will look after that. Which buildings will fall and which will still be standing?

The South Park parody of San Francisco is dead-on, but the other side of all that city's silliness is that its people know, at least subconsciously, that their idyllic home is in the path of nature, and that they could someday be required to act as heroes to save their neighbors and their beloved, smug, self-satisfied metropolis. And we know that's what they'll do. San Franciscans are tenacious and loyal to San Francisco above all.

It's interesting to note that America's two most beautiful cities (New Orleans being the other) are also its two most perilous. Is it beautiful in those places because they are so close to nature's unfathomable power? Or does their beauty assure they will survive even the deadliest blows?