New Energy

We have the White House. An era of responsibility and accountability begins today. President Obama has already made bold moves (New York Times). I overheard a correspondent say that most of the Great Work done by previous presidents happens in the first year of his first term. Our new President seems to fully understand that his political capitol will likely never again be this abundant. The illegal prison in Cuba is closing; terrorist trials are reset; former President Bush's executive orders are all halted until full legal review can be completed; and the Joint Chiefs are asked to prepare a 16 month withdrawal plan for Iraq. It's noon on his first day.

I am giddy, I say giddy, with anticipation.

Savagely

Gay bars in Seattle, by and large, are not scary.

My first experience being a tourist in such a strange land was in Wilkes-Barre at a bar called Twist (I had to look that up). It was positioned such that my college apartment was halfway down an alley between it and the only full nudie bar in the city, Toppers (I didn't have to look that up). It created a general weirdness vortex under our fire escape where we learned that human poo outlasts winter snows and wrote a punk song called "don't pee on my house" to serenade our late night visitors. Anyway, my old friend Tyler and I swung by Twist after being asked to leave an Irish Pub for not fighting. It was late - very late - and the bartender gladly made two "Mind Erasers" for the tall blond and young kid. From what I can vaguely recall (the drink lived up to its name) we were followed out of the place by two lonely, likely married (to wives), men who very much wanted to give us a ride home. I'm sure they had the best intentions. Tyler and I had a good laugh, then chucked on his carpet.

This weekend I accompanied a few of my friends to show support of the Capitol Hill scene in the face of a crazy threat from a deranged or lonely person. Apparently, and I'll let the FBI handle the details, some nut job sent letters to most of the gay bars on Capitol Hill (and one to The Stranger) threatening to spike 55 drinks with ricin. Which would not be nice. Anyway, the gay community answered in the best way they know how: they threw a party and called for a pub-crawl.

I'm not much for crawling, and neither are my friends. We actually camped out at Purr most of the night on big, cushy leather couches. Dan Savage dropped by. He sends his regards. He's much cuter in person, but I'm still straight.

So, my friends and I talked at the top of our voice while tall beefy men and obviously-not-ladies women danced and flirted somewhere on the other end of the bar. None of us are dancers (though I believe one has a thing for them).

Long story short: at least so far the threat is as empty as the threater's head. I hope it stays that way. The news camera outside of Purr Saturday night made my skin crawl. Too much attention to such a despicable act. Why can't we all just get a long?

50-year storm

This has been a strange winter in Seattle. For those of you not living here, I'll give you a quick recap. It snowed, then sleeted, then snowed, then snowed, then froze, then flurried then snowed then rained then snowed. Presently, the clouds are dropping an indecisive snowy sleet-like frozen rain. Clearly this weather front has been in Seattle too long, and is picking up the passive-aggressive nature. Please leave!

The blogosphere has been rife with picturesque icy photographs and red hot flames about the city's response. So, being that I've got nothing better to do because I still feel snowed in (once the temperature drops below freezing at night, I do not trust the wet, slushy roads), let me expound on why I think we're in this snow drift, and why I don't think it's a bad thing.

First, it does not snow like this in Seattle more than twice a century. Given we clean out our city counsel and mayoral office every couple of elections, the political decision horizon trends towards the quarterly or yearly outlook; not a whole lot of very long term planning happens (evidence our non-existent mass transit system; our lack of sidewalks; our crumbling bridges and viaduct; our two-city suburban sprawl; our unlinked architecture; et cetera). So, who's going to vote for a teacher pay cut to invest in a dozen plows we're only going to use once a decade, at most? Come spring, everyone will be complaining about sidewalks, crime, schools, traffic, and potholes again. Frankly, those perennial Seattle issues impact each of us on a far greater scale.

And voting. Don't get me started. From what I can tell, any nut case with a few followers or million dollars can get an initiative on the ballot. That means we can hamstring the city government when they pass unpopular laws. Long term vision is almost always unpopular -- take a look at what the mayors in Chicago and New York City went through as they fought crime. (They're now regarded as, in some circles at least, heroes; heck, one ran for president. Sort of.) So let's say the mayor does feed more money into snow-removal and ice-prevention systems. I there would be an initiative blocking that funding faster than you can say "Where's my monorail?"

I won't claim (as a few have recently) to understand all the facets to the road-salting dilemma. Our mayor has decided to err on the side of environmental safety and not salt our roads; apparently there is risk of damage to the Puget Sound. Fine with me, frankly. There are other alternatives (though more costly) and the salt is bad for cars. It's possible we'll do more environmental damage fixing all our potholes that are due (in large part) to snow tires and chains (on buses, rigs, trucks, and even yuppie Priuses). But, when the math gets that hard, I can promise you this: there's no right answer. Fuzziness begets waffling begets status quo. Maybe China had it right: mandate everyone off the road for the good of the people (and the city) for a short time.

So, Seattle, you couldn't do all your Christmas shopping this year. You might have been forced to cancel your travel plans. You might get a little cabin fever. You might even have to walk to the cafe in your own neighborhood for once, instead of driving to Ballard or Capitol Hill. The "badness" in all of these inconveniences is all in our mind. The price we would pay to guarantee we'd never be faced with such hardship again is very high. I say, put on your boots, walk down the street for a cup of joe and a gallon of milk, and spend a little time with your family. Maybe if you're lucky, the power will go out and you'll actually get to talk to each other.

Then again, I'm just a punk blogger. And if we've learned anything new this century it's this: don't trust what you read in the blogosphere.

Not change, just chance

Not change, just chance

Just in case I have any Republicans in my readership, which I can't imagine, here's a photo from Irish Paul, from the Czech Republic.

A Man on a Mission

I am not an economist in any regards, but I am very excited to hear that President-elect Obama is planning a stimulous package similar to the Great Works projects of a bygone era. No more "spend our way" out. Regardless of the details, music to my ears: Obama will have the bill to congress on his first day in office.

Rock on, new guy.

Now, to the dog park with me.

GAIN North

This morning we spotted the GAIN North group walking past our house on their neighborhood walk. We joined in with Grete for a slow walk through our 10x6 block area boarded by Greenwood, Aurora, 105th, and 95th. We found out that our block is still on the list for potential side walk additions, that the tree planting went well (look at all those saplings!) and that speeders on Dayton is the issue de jour. Greenwood is a nice neighborhood to live in, though it is a little car-centric. Not as bad as the east side, but with spotty side walks and all the businesses on Aurora or at 85th and 100th, it's no Fremont or UD. Still, I like it quite a bit.
The best thing about getting involved with GAIN North has been the newsgroup where I get to listen in on the chatter. The recent string of daytime robberies encouraged me to keep the cars in the driveway and install an extra lock on the back door (and, of course, keep an extra eye out). Tagging and traffic are always the hot-button issues, until someone brings up sidewalks.
I encourage you, if you haven't already, to get into your local neighborhood community. Often they have fun little event and volunteer opportunities (that don't require driving!). Best yet, every effort I've put in I've received 10-fold back (the two organizers still refer to me as the "flyer guy" for my one-time distribution of 500 or so fliers).
It's sunny out! Time to go outside and tend to the fall garden.

Election Night Remorse

Where were you when you heard the news? Nearly all of my friends and family have reported they were with their friends and family. A few industrious souls were at work. It wasn't until I talked to my friend in the Big Apple that I realized I might regret, years from now, staying home and watching the debate in HD with the love of my life, our puppy, and our cat.
During the video montage ABC ran over cheers and light commentary after announcing Barack Obama was being declared the winner, some editor in some control room decided to cut to Seattle. I didn't know it was Seattle; I jumped up and said: "That woman's holding a Pabst and, and, she's wearing flannel! That's Seattle." Sure enough, woot, there we were.
Meanwhile, my friend was actually at the Harlem location that ABC shot. Harlem! Can you imagine? I had to. Cause I was at home.
I don't mean to say I didn't choose completely of my own free will to stay home. I had plenty of options. I just regret it. There, I said it. I regret it. My only consolation is that I won't really remember the evening in 20 years... only what I see on TV in retrospectives over the next two decades. But I bet if I had been out there, out with the crowds, I'd remember a feeling at least.
Get back to work.

Electing Omar

Campaigning at the local level is, as far as I can tell from my three days on the Omar Ahmad for San Carlos City Counsel campaign trail, mostly about walking door to door and waving corrugated plastic signs at commuters. In the end, in the wee hours of the morning overlooking twinkling lights of the bay area to the north and the grey fog silently filling the valleys of San Mateo County, campaigning became about a Wi-Fi connection, homemade Chai, faithful friends and most of all, the drama of the last-counted vote.

The election was touted as a sleeper by all accounts. Low turnout was expected across the county, as no major initiatives were on the ballot, and San Carlos was no exception. Both incumbent City Counsel members had decided to not run, leaving two seats open and four candidates: favorite and former-soccer coach Randy Royce, non-campaigner Alex Phillips, perennial contender John Hoffman, and newcomer Omar Ahmad.

The only hot-button topic in San Carlos was the turf battle – the growing need for more soccer fields with nighttime lights and year-round artificial turf pitted against city-wide NIMBY. Omar was the only candidate to take the stance of “let’s discuss,” rather than just agree to build the turf fields in the hills of precinct 24.

The night of the election, Omar and his supporters began gathering at Campaign Headquarters (a local restaurant) at around 7pm. The results of the mail-in ballots were to be announced at 8:05. Following that, the county would update the website every 30 minutes with vote counts from whatever county precincts had been certified.

We expected to be done by 9:30. With only 28 precincts and less than 3,000 voters expected to turn out, we were not pacing ourselves. 35 people were present eating an abundance of fried food, drinking sparkling cider, and mingling in high spirits. A musician played classic rock covers on an acoustic guitar.

At 8:05 I manned a laptop with a borrowed Wi-Fi connection. The first results were in. Randy was indeed in the lead comfortably. Hoffman held the second open seat, with Omar trailing him by 190 votes. Phillips trailed by twice that. Omar walked over to me, and we showed him the results. He paled. We all paled. This was going to be close.

We suspected Hoffman would lead in mail-in ballots as his supporters were generally older than Omar’s and likely to vote by mail. It seemed only seconds later the 8:30 results were posted. Only 8 total votes in one precinct were added to the count, putting Omar down by 191. We were hoping for better (and more) news.

Omar’s friends took charge, and brought out a huge celebration cake with dozens of candles. A speech was made; then Omar thanked his supporters and took off his candidate name tag. Spirits were still high, but we were all nervous.

I went back to the laptop. 9:05: only a few precincts were added. Omar trailed Hoffman by 161. He made up about 10 votes per precinct. I started doing math. There were 17 precincts left to report, he needed to gain 161 votes, at about 10 per precinct. I predicted the race would be within 15 votes. Omar’s eyes widened, and he went back to making rounds with supporters.

By 9:30, many of the supporters had gone home to watch the results on their own computers and TVs. We started to clean up. I worked the web site and discovered I could tell which precincts were going to report in the next update. Seven more would be reported at 10. We waited.

At 10pm Omar closes the gap to 109 votes as seven more precincts reported. We took down the balloons and banners after the 10:30 update, moved to Omar’s house atop the San Carlos hills. As eight of us left the restaurant, Omar trailed Hoffman by 89 votes with seven precincts left to report.

At Omar’s, we gathered on leather couches and made chai. Omar paced and fretted. I was still hovered over the laptop and, as it was the whole night, at least two people eagerly peered over my shoulder. Refresh. Refresh. “Did you refresh yet?” Refresh.

11pm. Omar trails by 68. There are five precincts uncounted. I work the website again, and find a way to get a breakdown by precinct. Those left to report: 5, 7, 17, 24, and 25.

11:30. Precinct 25 reports. Omar trails by 61. We do the math again and again. It’s going to very close. Omar keeps saying: “24 is going to be big for us. That turf thing, they really supported me when I said I’d talk to them about options. 24 is going to be big.”

Midnight. Only precinct 17 reports. Omar trails by 49 votes. It seems like a lot, with only three precincts left to report results: 5, 7, and 24.

We fret. At two minutes past midnight I see that they have certified all three remaining precincts. The next update will have the final results. The room discusses the possibilities as we go over what we know. We’ve been catching up at a rate of just under 11 per precinct. We need just over 16 per precinct. The vote count is about 1,500 votes for both Omar and John Hoffman. The race is the closest in the county. We Google about recount options and election law. Someone is praying upstairs. The eight of us, close friends and family only, look to Omar for a sign. He’s pacing and holding his breath.

I refresh the browser constantly. Everyone is standing around Omar in the middle of the room. At exactly 12:30am the names I have been staring at all night, “Randy Royce; John Hoffman; Omar Ahmad; Alex Phillips” change order. Omar has taken the lead by 12 votes, all precincts reporting. His name is above Hoffmann’s for the first time that night.

The room erupts in screaming and hollering. We jump around and hug everyone. Omar falls to the ground. Flashbulbs flash. The men take photos of the web site results. We pass the laptop around. Omar calls his parents on the East Coast on speakerphone and we all cheer. This goes on for an hour. Phones erupt with ringing – everyone is talking to everyone, it seems this is the biggest race in the world. It feels important. We blog and update Facebook pages. Omar fields calls from reporters, candidates, and supporters.

Early into the morning the excitement is palpable. This was, after all, a city council position in a small town outside of the bay area. But this was also a community scoring a big win, a man scoring a personal victory, and a whole heck of a lot of suspense. It turns out that precinct 24 was big: Omar beat all other candidates in that precinct, even Royce, and made up 40 votes on Hoffman.

Honorable Omar Ahmad City Counsel Member sat down on his favorite leather chair and ate a large slice of cake around one-thirty am. He smiled broadly and gave out a big belly laugh.