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Ever Have One of Those Days Where Everything Goes Right?????

Me neither.

But today was OK so I'll be happy with that.

My Fathers, "Lawn Mower Gene" kicked in the other day. The 3 year old lawn mower broke a belt a couple of weeks ago. Well, shit happens and stuff wears out.

$75 dollars to replace the damn thing!!!!

Ouch. As in, "My ass hurts from that screwing. Didn't even get a reach around", kinda ouch.
Now, being the smart guy that I am, I saved the paperwork and had a belt number so I could find one on the Interwebz for half that price.

Except I didn't expect to break another one in only 2 weeks.

Man that sucks.

It takes to long to earn $75 bucks to be buying them like that.

Oh well. Sometimes shit happens.


In other news - I found a web site of a guy who built a HoopHouse a year ago and has great plans and experience to share about it.
If you have been all green with envy seeing the HoopHouse here, you can follow his very good instructions and make one for yourself. Cheap.

Check it out Here.

No, I didn't make the link directly to the HoopHouse stuff. That's because you should look around first. He's got a lot of good info and such on gardening. Just check in the sidebar for the Greenhouse info and make sure to follow the update links.

(This was supposed to be posted Tuesday night, but due to a storm the Interwebz connection was not working)

Gratuitous Picture for a Tuesday Night-

As always, click to embiggen the picture.

I’ve been told that a 100-mile ultramarathon can be a one day journey of every possible emotion a person can conjure. My first Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run this last Saturday confirmed that for me. I was brought to my knees, both physically and spiritually, but was able to rise again and again thanks to a new source of will and the support of my crew and friends. One run, two sunrises, and an infinite dose of appreciation for this race, this sport, and the amazing community behind it.

My journey to Western States has been a long one. It started four years ago when I applied for a lottery slot, only to miss it twice and become a “two-time loser” entry for 2008. The forest fires cancelled the race in 2008, so 2009 was my first shot to toe the line. It might sound frustrating, but it wasn’t since I was able to better prepare by racing a number of ultramarathons in that time. I had some good miles under my legs, some heat training, and my ecstatic crew, Brian Drue (my bro-in-law) and Dan Wheeler. My “A” goal was to go sub-22 hours, my “B” goal to get a sub-24 hour finish for the coveted silver buckle, my “C” goal to finish by the 30-hour official cutoff. With that, we rolled up to Squaw Valley a few days before June 27th.

The good news was that the week was packed full of events, including a very helpful session by John Medinger on “how to crew for Western States”. We learned all kinds of great tips, particularly as he emphasized “don’t forget to take care of yourself, not just your runner”. The day before the event was a lot of fun too. I really got a good sense of the history and unfathomable volunteer work behind Western States, whether it was Skip Swannick giving us a pep talk 30 years after being the first woman to break 24 hours, Shannon Weil (the first female finisher in 1978) and Karsten Solheim (11 time finisher, starting when he was 60) presenting the Friend of the Trail Award, or the amazing Mark Falcone who detailed the thousands of hours of volunteer work and cooperation with the Forest Service to get the trail in pristine shape. With so much passion behind this race, it’s no wonder it’s such an extraordinary event.

Talk amongst the runners was mostly about the weather report, predicted to climb into the 100’s. Many were making their projections about the elite runners too. On the men’s side the talk was about defending champion Hal Koerner, 7-time winner Scott Jurek who had returned after a four year hiatus, the unstoppable Dave Mackey, east coaster Leigh Shmidtt, local stars Eric Skaden and Mark Lantz, heat-loving Andy Jones-Wilkins, faster-than-ever Jasper Halekas, Montrail Ultracup leader Eric Grossman, fast and furious closer Victor Ballesteros, and two foreign runners, Tsuyoshi Kaburagi from Japan and Jez Bragg from the UK. For the women, many were wondering if the course experience of Nikki Kimball and Beverly Anderson-Abbs could fend off the challenges from Hardrock-record holder Krissy Moehl, Colorado speed demon Anita Ortiz, Oregon’s Jenn Shelton, and local stars Jenny Capel (current front-runner in the Montrail Ultracup Series), Jamie Frink, and Caren Spore. Whomever was to make the top 10 was going to have to earn it for sure.


At 5am, we counted off the last few seconds and charged up the hill. With so many spectators, it felt like a Tour de France stage! Really fun. That is, until the leaders went off course about a half mile in. Probably a little frustrating for those guys. ;-)

I kept an easy pace, hiking up Squaw Valley as the sun came up, and chatting with the runners around me. Graham Cooper was recently back from a stress fracture, and enjoyed the unpredictability of a day that could end anywhere from Escarpment to Auburn. Meghan Arbogast and Connie Gardner were showing few signs of their stellar performance at the World 100k the previous Saturday (Team USA brought home the gold), and were cruising along and enjoying the sights.



We picked up the pace at Escarpment (mile 4) to avoid the mosquitoes, and before too long we were heading downhill. The single track was wonderful (thank you Mark Falcone!), and I ran along with Connie Gardner and got updates on the 100k race and her son getting ready for college. She’s pretty amazing! I wasn’t watching my pace much at this point, and just tried to stay comfortable. I tagged along with Steve “The Bomber” Ansell and Jenny Capel to Lyon Ridge (mile 10.5), where we got our first fuel of the day. They let us know we were just ahead of the 24-hour pace. Steve and I said “great!”, but Jenny kicked it up a notch and left us in the dust.


The scenery in the back country was breathtaking (or maybe that was the altitude?). I had the pleasure of running much of it with 7-time finisher and Western States Board Member Whit Rambach, who gave me a full history of the fires in the area. We were both happy to see that Red Star Ridge was making an amazing recovery, with plants and flowers sprouting up from the scorched earth. Rebirth and renewal everywhere we looked.


I got my drop bag at Red Star Ridge (mile 16), just in time to add a handkerchief head dress and some more sunscreen. It was starting to get warm! Whit and I made our way through the exposed hills until we heard the music pouring from Duncan Canyon (mile 23.8). These guys were rocking! The volunteers had me gassed, sponged, and on my way faster than Jeff Gordon at a NASCAR race. I donned the headphones for the next section, listening to some Michael Jackson tunes such as “Burn This Disco Out” and “Got To Be Startin’ Something”. Perhaps I should have worn a memorial white glove too. ;-) The recently burnt forest was a hill of mesmerizing black skeletons that stood like tombstones, with life bursting at their bases. The circle of life was everywhere.


Somewhere in the hike up to Robinson Flat I caught a toe and went down on the rocks. My handheld water bottles saved me from heavy skin damage (and gave a great Bellagio-like water show when both bottles emptied their contents), but my camera took the brunt of the fall and died a quick and painless death. I shall miss you, sweet Olympus 340! Luis Escobar offered me a hand up, and together we shuffled into the party known as Robinson Flat (mile 30). This was the first time I would see my crew, and they were ready for me! I took a seat while they swapped out my food and water, loaded me up with ice, and sent me on my way. Zoom!


They also caught me up on the race. Dave Mackey had come in first, with Hal Koerner just on his tail. Scott Jurek was about eight minutes back, and the rest were already 15-20 minutes behind. Anita Ortiz and Bev Abbs were well ahead in the women’s race, and Jenn Shelton had limped in with a hip injury, seemingly out of the race.



After a short climb, I hit the exposed ridge beyond Robinson Flat and began sucking in the heat of the day. The rocks were warming up, so it felt like a convection oven. It was hard to keep a quick speed without overheating, so I eased up a bit to balance it out. Miller’s Defeat (mile 34) came just in time since I was out of water, and for the first time I had slipped out of the 24-hour target finish time by about 12 minutes. I suspected this would be the case for the remainder of the day – the heat would keep me off pace, but hopefully I could make it up after Foresthill. I got another sponge bath, and trudged down towards Last Chance.

This section of the course was much hotter than I remembered, and the exposed sections were so toasty I began subconsciously holding my breath. The creeks were dry, so there was little assistance. I just started counting prime numbers to keep my mind off of it, sipping and savoring my water like a fine wine. I caught up to Marty Hoffman and Jimmy Dean Freeman and we pulled each other along to Last Chance (mile 43.8). I joined Dean Karnazes under the hoses of the volunteers, who informed us that the temperature had exceeded 100 degrees and was going to get hotter in the canyons. Sure enough, it was going to be one of THOSE States. ;-)

The volunteers were right – the farther we got into the canyon, the hotter it got. Dean charged right down into the heat, with a few runners behind him. The runners we passed were complaining of fairly serious problems – Tom had a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop, Brian Wyatt said his kidneys were throbbing, etc. I felt like Rocky (our Pug), breathing heavily out of my mouth and quickly slowing to a walk. When I reached the swinging bridge at the bottom, I was swerving. Ten steps later, all the condensation dissipated from my skin and my head felt like it was on fire. I got dizzy, fell to my knees, and vomited. Damn.

Dean called me up to a small creek, where he was busy soaking himself every way he could. I pulled out my secret weapon – a 99 cent car wash sponge in my back pouch – and started dousing myself. After six or seven plunges, my head stopped pounding. I reached for a gel, but started dry heaving as soon as I saw it. The best thing to do was just get moving, so I took one last soak and headed up the Devil’s Thumb climb with my pulse bulging out of my neck and head. It felt like it took forever to reach the top.


Devil’s Thumb (mile 48) was part MASH unit, part oasis. I only got halfway through my sentence when they took my weight (3 lbs under – 2 more and I would be forced to stop), whisked me under a tent, gave me a popsicle, and soaked the back of my neck with ice. These volunteers knew EXACTLY what to do. Whit Rambach came up and grabbed a few popsicles of his own, and others did the same. We quickly learned that “the Thumb” was taking its toll on many. Scott Jurek had dropped, and Wade Repta had blacked out on the way up. One woman told me that about one in four looked like me, and that I would be on my way in less than 10 minutes. I contemplated another hot canyon and wondered if it was wise to continue. But she was right, I felt better. Plus my crew would be at Michigan Bluff. Best to at least make it there.


I found a good shuffle speed heading into the next canyon, and kept leaning forward to keep the wind moving on my skin. Whit and I stopped at a nice water spot, which was enough to get us to El Dorado Creek (mile 52). It was tempting to stop and take a dip, but I noticed I was only 40 minutes off the 24-hour pace so I figured it was best to keep moving. As soon as the climb started, I began overheating again, and soon sprayed my half-digested snacks in one massive Technicolor yawn. The heat Beast was upon me again, so I just kept moving up the hill.


I was overjoyed to see my crew at Michigan Bluff (mile 55), and they sat me down and doused me in ice-cold towels. I detailed some of my issues, but they said I was doing better than most. They got me up to speed on the leaders, who had passed through four hours previous. Hal Koerner and Dave Mackey were neck and neck, and Leigh Shmidtt was about 15 minutes behind them. Anita Ortiz had broken away from Bev Abbs with a 20 minute lead, and was looking good. I started feeling better, and the crew sensed it and began packing it up. “Let’s keep going,” Brian would say, “you’ll want to make it to Foresthill”. I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, other than there were certainly some good beer drinking spots there if I should drop. They filled me up again, and I was on my way.


The sun started to set over the hill, and the temperature dropped a few degrees. I signed a quick note to Dan Moore, the founder of the Auburn Running Company who had died the day before, at the Bath Road aid station and used his positive thoughts to chug up the road to Foresthill with my crew. It was so much fun to see everyone at Foresthill! Friends, cohorts, and….wait a minute, that’s my 3-year-old! Sure enough, the family had come out to surprise me. I was instantly in perfect spirits. After a few kisses and change into night gear, my crew hustled me out of town. I was an hour and a half behind my 24-hour time, but thought there might still be a chance.





The next section was one of my favorites, for it was here that I ran my first ultra in 2005. In a huge déjà vu moment, I caught up to Marty Hoffman, who had taught me how to run downhill at that very same race and was one of the first to tell me about Western States! It’s all your fault, Marty. ;-) I cruised quickly down the single track, making it to Dardenelles (mile 65.7) just as the sun went down. My stomach and head were a bit shaky, but I was still in this race, dammit.

I had hoped that the night would bring much cooler temperatures, but the rocks were still toasting the trail from below. I felt good in motion, but horrible when still. I got some refreshments at Dardenelles, but violently vomited about five minutes afterwards. Ten minutes after that, I was having trouble keeping water down. I fought my way to Peachstone (mile 70.7) where I knew my friends Dwight and Kate Morejohn would be to help sort it out. I honored their aid station by sitting down and immediately unlunching all over my shoes and their chairs. Niiiice.



Kate was awesome, just patting me on the back and mixing a nice water/broth blend to settle my stomach. I could see they had 3-5 other runners in various stages of recovery, with a few flat out asleep. But they weren’t giving up, where they? HELL, no. Dwight gave me tons of advice and some tips on how to sight trails at night that worked wonders. Thanks to the good spirits of friends and volunteers, I got back on my feet and hit the trail again. But I had done the math in my head – I was now a scary 4% under weight, hadn’t held any calories for over five hours, and couldn’t even keep S! Caps down. To ensure I didn’t hurt myself, I would likely be throwing in the towel at the River Crossing.

The trail wound down to the river bank, and I could hear it all around me rushing like the wind. I entered this fascinating state of transcendence. At first I thought my headlight had gone out, since the darkness had closed in on that little square patch of light that had been my reality. But the darkness was everywhere, left, right, above, and even below my feet. My running felt effortless. It was like I was flying. The following thought just kept repeating through my head:

At your darkest moment, you shouldn’t fear the void
See it for what it truly is
An infinite pool of will and courage, as clear as spring water
Stare into it and see the reflection of your soul looking back
For many, this is the face of God
Look into her eyes
It’s full of stars
My God, it’s full of stars

Each time I repeated it, the face would appear in front of me. Each time she would smile back. Was she telling me it’s okay? Or was she laughing because I stole that last line from the movie A Space Odyssey:2010? This was a blissful state. I had no idea how I was moving forward, but I knew I was flying. The stars in her eyes kept getting brighter and brighter. It turns out they were the lights of Rucky Chucky (mile 78). Wow. How’s that for a guiding light?


I pulled into Rucky Chucky higher than a kite in orbit. I don’t even remember them weighing me or what they said, just a lot of smiles and encouragement. I got an escort down to the river where I had the childish desire to play in the water. I debated whether to tell my crew that I was hallucinating and having a spiritual breakthrough of monumental proportions, but the sobering cold waters of the American River told me to just share the facts so we could figure out what to do. Brian and Dan got to work on my shoes, and I told them I had thrown up everything since Dardenelles and was having trouble keeping water down. They paused with concern, but quickly broke it down. One cup of broth here, one cup of broth at Green Gate, and we’ll see how it goes. Dan said that another Vespa might do the trick, so we saved that for Green Gate.

We hiked up to Green Gate together, but not once re-addressing our decision. Their goal was to get me to the finish. Brian was great at getting me focused on the right goal – the “C” goal of finishing – and that I needed to pay attention to the three hour buffer I had. He was right in that I couldn’t walk it in from here. There was still work to do.

At Green Gate, I took my broth and Vespa without any issues, and put a smile on my face for my crew. “I’ll see you at Hwy 49, and bring some sunscreen”. They smiled back with that half-concerned look that only true friends can deliver, and wished me well. I had my own goals for this stretch – find a rhythm, and/or find that darkness again. Find her face and see her laugh once more. Either I was going to make it to the finish, or have a helluva story to tell.

I cruised through the next section, much in thanks to Glenn Meeth and his cheery pacer, Tracy. She did a great job of talking about various things, then fitting in a "why don't we run to the next light". I didn’t dawdle on the calorie math anymore, but just tried to stay focused on a good pace. I came into Auburn Lake Trails (mile 85) feeling good and adding 15 minutes to my buffer, but flunked the medical test by being 8 lbs under weight (about 5%). They sat me down until I could drink three cups of broth, which took back 10 minutes of my gain. Alas! They were more concerned by my answer about the color of my urine, which was “I haven’t peed today, so I don’t know…but my vomit is nice and clear”. I got the dunce cap award for sure. I chugged down the broth, went on my way, promptly vomiting it all back up about a half mile down the trail.

Brown’s Bar (mile 90) was a great party, and I just cruised through with a quick refill of water and some Jolly Rancher candies. The Vespa was really kicking in now, so I had a nice mellow level of energy. The sun came up as I worked my way down to the American River again, and the animals were all waking up. The circadian rhythm gave a nice little boost up the last climb. Such as fascinating experience to see two sunrises in one run.

At Hwy 49 (mile 93), Brian was in his running shoes and ready. We jogged through the beautiful area of Cool, CA, and he caught me up on the winners. Hal Koerner had held on for a repeat win, while Anita Ortiz powered through for a win in her first attempt at the distance (using only 36 gels!). He also let me know that my pal Jasper Halekas had gotten fourth, sneaking under 17 hours. Wow! Later I would learn that there was a three way race for M9 and M10, with Mark Lantz, AJ Wilkins, and Victor Ballesteros (who clocked the fastest time of the day between the river and the finish) within seconds of each other. Mark got M9, Andy got M10, and Victor got 11th – his consolation prize was that he won the Montrail Ultracup Series, which was the biggest payday of the day.



At No Hands Bridge (mile 96), I officially ran out of gas so Brian and I walked it in. Dan joined us at Robie Point, and as we turned the corner to the track, I could barely contain my emotions. Oh, the places we had gone today! I could barely recount the person I was just 28 hours ago.




And I couldn’t have done it without the crew, friends, volunteers, and others along the way. As I shared my journey with Jeff Riley (21:38 today), he summed it up well by saying “it may not have been the race you wanted, but it was the experience we are all secretly hoping to have”. He’s absolutely right.


As I crossed the finish line and soaked my feet in the ice pool, it was clear that everyone had an amazing story whether they finished or not, whether they had crewed, paced, or run. This was an epic day of adventure, survival, discovery, breakthroughs, camaraderie, and triumph of the human spirit. You could spend your whole life looking for a taste of any one of these things. Or you can spend one day to get enough of all of it to last a lifetime.



My sincerest thanks to everyone who helped me get to the finish line. I know I've personally read the "I never would have made it" on many a blog, but I'm telling you, it's the truth (honest to blog!). I will drink a beer in each of your honor this week, that is, as soon as I can hold it down. ;-)

SD

From the finisher page:

Men

1	M1	Hal Koerner	M	33	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	09:24pm	16:24:55	Finished
2	279	Tsuyoshi Kaburagi	M	40	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	09:52pm	16:52:06	Finished
3	113	Jez Bragg	M	28	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	09:54pm	16:54:26	Finished
4	21	Jasper Halekas	M	33	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	09:56pm	16:56:26	Finished
5	401	Kevin Sullivan	M	38	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	09:59pm	16:59:33	Finished
6	29	Zachariah Miller	M	33	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	10:34pm	17:34:12	Finished
7	332	Leigh Schmitt	M	36	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	10:49pm	17:49:37	Finished
8	M2	Erik Skaden	M	37	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	11:22pm	18:22:44	Finished
9	79	Mark Lantz	M	43	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	11:45pm	18:45:56	Finished
10	M4	Andy Jones-Wilkins	M	41	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	11:46pm	18:46:52	Finished

Women

1	22	Anita Ortiz	F	45	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	11:24pm	18:24:17	Finished
2	31	Krissy Moehl	F	31	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	12:26am	19:26:02	Finished
3	F2	Beverley Anderson-Abbs	F	45	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	12:53am	19:53:14	Finished
4	F1	Nikki Kimball	F	38	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	01:55am	20:55:43	Finished
5	F4	Caren Spore	F	41	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	02:17am	21:17:22	Finished
6	F5	Meghan Arbogast	F	48	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	02:33am	21:33:36	Finished
7	80	Elizabeth Vitalis	F	44	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	04:11am	23:11:31	Finished
8	219	Jamie Frink	F	36	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	04:37am	23:37:15	Finished
9	136	Jenny Capel	F	36	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	04:49am	23:49:27	Finished
10	32	Connie Gardner	F	45	Auburn Finish Line	100.2	06:34am	25:34:16	Finished

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On YouTube.com

With BART's deadline to reach a new union contract or face a worker strike extended to July 9th but still coming up on us fast, I took to the streets to learn what the public thinks about this possible event.

What I found was that many claimed they didn't even know of the possibility, but of those who did they all believed it would "severely cripple" transportation service in the Bay Area. I didn't tell those I talked to that the average BART union worker's salary was $115,000, or that the public ridership took in an average of $55,000, as that would be leading the witness. I wanted to learn what was on their minds and you can see that in the video.

But people not being informed about this? That's crazy. But I encountered a frightening number of people who were not informed. It's not that they don't care, but I think they see themselves as powerless to do anything one way or the other, and so stay out of the debate. Many didn't know that BART workers wanted a three percent raise or that BART police couldn't strike for that matter.

This sets the stage for a massive public outrage when a group of people (us) that has been asleep at the wheel finds it can't catch it's BART Train in the morning. Then there will be hell to pay.

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Right on the heels of the passage of the landmark American Clean Energy and Security Act, which establishes a kind of "cap-and-trade" system for greenhouse gas emissions, we have a project I'm excited about as it will be the first power plant in America designed with a federal greenhouse gas limit. It's called the Russell City Energy Center and will be constructed in Hayward, California.

The facility is slated to employ 650 people and generate a one time tax revenue of $30 million and an annual revenue of $6 million for the City of Hayward, according to the website for the proposed facility.

What's exciting about the development that we're finally seeing a project that languished in development hell since 2001 finally see the light of day under the Obama Administration and the new act. The act calls for modernization of the electric grid; this is a brand new power plant. It calls for reductions in greenhouse gas emissions; this plant has a limit on such output.

For those seeking construction jobs, you're wondering when it will start construction? Well, it's got to go through a public comment and hearing period first, then The Bay Area Air Quality Management District (BAAQMD) will issue an air permit for construction and operation. Having gotten approval from the California Energy Commission, the project is one permit away from breaking ground.

That permit's a big hurdle. It seems there are groups and people who, well, just don't believe the facility will do what it's designed to do, and that's a shame. So much of California's economic problem rests with NIMBY's who fear any type of real progress. The plant's developers have agreed to every alteration requested to date. What we need to have is a pro-development culture; right now, what we have is an anti-development culture where people struggling to pay the rent don't want anyone else to have a chance at earning a decent living making things; in this case, power.

To the opponents, I say, give this one a chance. The San Francisco Bay Area, crumbling under the weight of the shrinking economy, needs this power plant. We've got to get over this habit of people constantly offering pseudo-intellectual arguments crafted to kill almost any project that might be proposed. This constant habit is costing us much needed jobs and sorely needed revenue.

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The evening of Friday June 26th started in a rather routine way for me: meeting friends after work at the outdoor patio setting that the restaurant Cafe Americano provides on the corner of Howard Street and The Embarcadero in San Francisco (now, yes, I live in Oakland but as any dweller knows, Oakland, San Francisco and all cities as far north as San Rafael and as far south as South San Francisco make up what I call "The Inner Bay Area": a place of with a population of 2 million people, one college town, Berkeley, and two downtowns in Oakland and San Francisco, both served by BART.  It's common to see the same people anywhere within the Inner Bay Area, from a Cal football game to Friday nights in San Francisco, or a concert at Oakland's Fox Theater.)

Paul, one of my associates who's always on the hunt for the ultimate party. knew of one and said "Let's head over to Aventine. It's going to be raging tonight." (For you older types, "raging" is a term used to decribe a well-attended event with a lot of dancing and socializing.) So he rounded up the group of us gents and we grabbed a cab over to 529 Washington Street, next to the TransAmerica Pyramid.

I'd never officially visited Aventine, so this was a treat. When we arrived I asked one of the owners Adam Snyder, if I could use my video camera to record the festivities there and he not only gave permission he opened the video with an introduction.

Nice.

Aventine itself is a restaurant and bar I've not yet eaten at that shares series of blocks occupied by a number of good eateries and nightclubs which make up Jackson Square where San Francisco's Financial District ends and North Beach begins. With places like Bix, Kell's, and The Bubble Lounge near by, it's important to have an "angle" - something that draws people.

A Happy Hour in an alley

The owners of Aventine took over an alley that connects Washington and Jackson streets, closed it off to traffic with the help of the San Francisco Police department, installed a set of turn tables operated by a disk jockey, added two bars and a pizza vendor, and encouraged non-profit neighborhood groups to set up places where party-goers could sign up to donate to their organizations. The result is a cross between a convention for do-gooders and a nightclub in the day, a street fair; and around 7 PM on a hot summer day like Friday was, the combination's electric, drawing a 1,000 people according to Snyder.

Michael Jackson, the amazing force of music talent, tragically passed the day before, so the record-spinner played a number of Jackson's best known hits: Billy Jean, Thriller, Pretty Young Thing, etc. At first, one or two people danced, most notably "D" who holds court with her rhythmically frenetic dancing, but eventually two turned to twenty, and twenty turned to 40, then 40 turned to 80. Now, I've attended a lot of street fairs, parties, and other events in San Francisco, and this one is one of the best I've seen. It's a perfect after work place to go to have good clean dancing fun.

Now some people don't like to dance, but my observation is once they have a few cocktails they start movin' and grovin' like there's no tomorrow, and badly. That was certainly the case for some at Aventine, but others like me just like to dance and need little excuse (or drink) to do so, especially since I just recovered from the worst flu of my life.  I was celebrating!

And for those who just like to socialize and not move their hips, there's the occasional only-in-San Francisco character to talk to. In Aventine's case, that person is the colorful "Emperor Norton" a uniformed chap who claims to own Mexico and California. Give him your attention and he'll write a bond for you he claims you can trade for money!

Aventine's Friday Happy Hour's a cool place for singles; the guy / gal ratio gets better - that is, even - as the night approaches, everyone's nice, and the folks are attractive (and the women who comes to Aventine look like models). But that written, it's San Francisco, so the event draws both Gay and straight and no one cares. We can thank the the energy of the event for that; there's just something, well, joyful about seeing people have fun. It's the best attraction element in the world.

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YouTube, Blip.tv and Sclipo

For weeks now, BART management and labor have been arguing over who should give up what on the eve of the expiration of contracts with the five unions that represent BART workers. But there's a problem: the matter of the murder of Oscar Grant and the revelation that another BART officer used a racial slur, and this was captured in a new video, raise questions regarding labor's moral standing to strike.

While BART's police can't strike, as one officer told me, the unions essentially represent the labor issues for the police. Thus, the use of the racial slur by a BART officer with BART Officer Johannes Mehserle, coupled with the murder by Mehserle, opens the accusation that it was a hate crime. According to the San Francisco Chronicle, it was officer Tony Pirone who yelled "Bitch-ass N__, right?" As he was hitting Grant while Grant was on the ground.

While Pirone claims he was responding to something Grant said, there's no record or video backing his claim. What I think happened was Pirone may have overheard someone else say this but as Pirone is white, it's not likely someone would use that terms against him, especially since he's a police officer. But Pirone leaves himself open to another interpretation: that he was saying to Grant he's a "Bitch-ass N__, and then used the term "right?" as a way of affirming his own comment about Grant.

If so, and I think it is, that's a clear hate crime. Period. End of discussion.

I don't think BART workers want to be associated with this kind of behavior, but that's a looming possibility. BART workers are already seen to be richer than their riders, many who are like Oscar Grant, poor. So here we are with BART workers unwilling to take payroll cuts to maintain service, asking for a three-percent raise when everyone in the public sector's trying to save their jobs, and now we have two BART police officers expressing the ultimate dislike for a passenger due to his skin color. It also opens this question: to what degree do BART police conduct racial profiling?

A good friend of mine in law enforcement told me that many of the people recruited to become officers are white, suburban in their upbringing, not experienced in working with or befriending people of color. That must change.

The Strike Threat and The Race Problem

It's already clear many riders I talked to are concerned about the possible loss of service, but just wait until they get wind of these racial problems!

If BART's unions are going to achieve any degree of credibility in this matter, they've got to have the police address their problems with racism and issue an apology to the black community. The unions have no right to threaten a strike that disproportionally harms the poor and minority after one of their own working partners, represented by two BART police workers, apparently expressed dislike for and then shot a man who was poor and African American, because was poor and African American.

BARTLabor.com

If you want to keep up with the BART labor issue as it unfolds, I recommend you visit BARTLabor.com, a good and comprehensive website explaining just what's going on with the BART Strike and providing news updates.

Let's Hope This is for Real ........

That's what several of my internal organs said anyway.

My Lungs and Liver both about knocked me over to get me out of the way so they could read this article - Australian scientists kill cancer cells with "trojan horse"

"SYDNEY (Reuters) - Australian scientists have developed a "trojan horse" therapy to combat cancer, using a bacterially-derived nano cell to penetrate and disarm the cancer cell before a second nano cell kills it with chemotherapy drugs.

Unk's Liver is quoted as saying, "Sounds good to me".

Gratuitous Picture for a Monday Evening-

No picture tonight. Video instead of Rory Gallagher live circa 1987.

Oh Hell. Here's another from 1975.



Damn he was good.

The HoopHouse Scores!!!!!
First Tomato Today !!!!!!!!!!!!!



Yeah Baby. YerUnk is stoked about this.

I've never had a ripe Tomato in June before.

This is an old time variety called, German Johnson and not a fast growing hybrid either. These aren't the prettiest looking things, but they do taste good and get pretty decent sized and are about my favorites.

Being able to get things started early in that HoopHouse is gonna be a real plus. Now I'm curious as to how long I can extend the season without any supplemental heat.

I've got a lot to learn on utilizing this thing and I'm wondering if I should be planting Tomatoes in containers and moving them out instead of leaving them in the ground like I did this year.

Probably.

Plant rotation for pest control and all that.

Anyway, just wanted to show off some. I'm gonna go ride the BigBluePlasticMotorcycle for awhile now.

Gratuitous Picture for a Monday Afternoon-
This can't possibly end well.

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Michael Jackson's passing is still a shock to me. The very idea that someone I feel like I grew up with left us at the age of 50 is just not right at all. I first saw Michael perform when I was 10 years old at the old Chicago International Amphitheatre in 1972; the Campbell family, who babysat me, took me and I remember it like it was yesterday. The Jackson Five was then the must see event and Michael was the star.

Michael was like my brother. In a way for many African Americans he was just that, a sibling. I knew him as the guy who grew up in Gary, Indiana. We knew people who knew them in Chicago, so I felt close to him long ago. I think it's for that reason so many African Americans were on Michael's side during the years when it seems he was kind of flying the coup: changing his skin color from brown to near white; narrowing his nose, and basically seeming to channel his best friend the legendary singer Diana Ross. Then, of course, there were the claims that he "liked boys" which we figured wasn't the case, and was more a byproduct of the money and attention seeking people who surrounded him. Michael was a person with an arrested development: he never had a childhood so to escape the trappings of a constant adult life, he created a childhood for himself.

I think being an adult just literally killed Michael.

For me, Michael Jackson was the person who wanted to bring us all together, as shown in his "We Are The World" effort. That amazing production and song, created with a group of the World's best known music talents, with Lionel Richie, Quincy Jones, Stevie Wonder, Steve Perry, Bob Dylan, the late Ray Charles, and a host of others and to raise money for famine relief in Ethiopia, was just amazing. Amazing. I loved that song then; I still do today and I cry every time I hear it. (the lyrics and video are at the end of this post).


Talking with people About Michael's passing

The death of Michael Jackson is one of those events that will cause you to remember where you were when you learned of it. In my case I'd just emerged from a private movie screening at the Saul Zaentz Film Center in West Berkeley, CA. My Mom just happened to call with the news as I was walking to my car; I was stunned. Just stunned. So I took my Flip Video Camera and set out to talk to people about what happened to Michael. I had plenty of places to do this: the BART train station, the San Francisco Magazine "Best of The Bay" party, and all points in between.

What's amazing is the sheer number of people who were immediately informed via text messages and the reactions: shock, sadness, but not joy. No. No one expressed anything close to that at all, even given the part of his life where it seemed he was overwhelmed with "kid" issues. Nothing.

Dominic Phillips, the master of event planning in San Francisco, and who produced last night's "San Francisco Magazine Best of The Bay" party said "It's horrible. First and formost, anybody dying is horrible. There are so many family members that are just gonna be torn apart. But also Michael Jackson; on the one hand he was a very maverick person. But on the other hand he was part of my generation's life. He was like part of my experience, my growing up and I feel a little robbed that he's not there anymore. Like whether you thought his experience was your experience,that doesn't really come into it for me. I just sort of bonded with him in my youth and now he's gone."

Another woman I talked to on Howard Street in San Francisco said "I was just walking and three people got text messages (that he died)...just terrible. My friend Beth Schnitzer, who's the Director of Sponsorship Marketing at Pier 39 said "I can't believe it. Every time I listen to his music, it brings back a great memory from growing up somehow, some way. You know, it really hasn't hit me. He was too young; way too young." Jerusha, "The Last Single Girl In The World" said, as only she can, "We all have to go sometime and boy did he have a fabulous life before he went. He did it up and he did it up right. You know what they say, you only live once and that's all you need if you do it right!"

I talked to a lot of people, and if you see my video there are more than what's presented here, but all just variations on what was expressed. People loved Michael, warts and all. The "Best of The Bay" event turned into a kind of tribute to Michael, with his music playing continuously through the evening, and people danced, especially to "Thriller" which is a modern classic.

Sad day it was to have this happen. Michael, the world will miss you.

We Are The World - Lyrics and video:

Written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, produced by Quincy Jones.



There comes a time
When we head a certain call
When the world must come together as one
There are people dying
And it's time to lend a hand to life
The greatest gift of all

We can't go on
Pretending day by day
That someone, somewhere will soon make a change
We are all a part of
God's great big family
And the truth, you know love is all we need

[Chorus]
We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

Send them your heart
So they'll know that someone cares
And their lives will be stronger and free
As God has shown us by turning stone to bread
So we all must lend a helping hand

[Chorus]
We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me

When you're down and out
There seems no hope at all
But if you just believe
There's no way we can fall
Well, well, well, well, let us realize
That a change will only come
When we stand together as one

[Chorus]
We are the world
We are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
So let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me