Bought a car today

It's a 2005 Corolla with 27,000 miles on it. It was a rental. I'm pretty happy with it. Hello car payments. Hellooooo insurance payments. Goodbye, frivilous spending. Hello can of tuna.

So I just got back from Brokeback Mountain, and it might have been a mistake to see such a stressful movie after a stressfull day of buying a car. I absolutely loved the movie, but I don't necessarily every want to see it again. Ang Lee is all about using slow, almost tedious pace to introduce you to ever more awful situations. It reminded me a lot of Ice Storm, and I really think Lee uses the dinner table for his most comically awful situations.

Anyway, the few bad reviews of the movie are by people who don't get it. It's a brilliant movie. Here's what I realized as I was watching. 1) Dudes are weird. Scratch the surface, and dudes are wierd. 2) We talk about other cultures having bizarre, codified, stratified, codes of behavior that is totally foreign to outsiders... ladies and gentlemen, the western cowboy. The straight ones, the gay ones... absolutley bizarre.

I was a little surprized at the plainness of the cinematography, until I realized it was a choice. And I was shocked that I was shocked by the gay sex, until I realized that it was a choice, and I was supposed to be shocked. There's a scene in Icestorm that's so shocking it's almost unbearable, very very uncomfortable.

I'm not as keen as H is to see Syriana, especially after the d keeps saying that I'll want to set myself on fire. Is there a greek word for that reaction?

Mama vs. 0.5 Crab.

video?

There is no way I can have video on my blog.

oh no. Bastos!

My dad thinks I'm stupid.

He once gave me traffic advice about I-5 South in Seattle. I've lived here for OVER A DECADE.

He even tried to guide me out of MY OWN DRIVEWAY, pointing and spinning an imaginary steering wheel, which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't totally wrong. I screamed at him "STOP IT!" and, pulled back into the drive way, and did it again from muscle memory.

"I was trying to help," he answered when he got in the car. He must think I'm a moron.

In the car buying process, he's given me all sorts of advice, he's even offered to buy cars in Nevada on my behalf. Are you kidding?

Once I found some shoes that I liked at the Ecco store, and he was livid LIVID that I did not walk away from the shoes to see what they have at Dillards. Because I'm too stupid to spend my own money on shoes that I like and will wear 1200 miles away.

When I was living in France, he offered to fill in my absentee ballot for the 1992 presidential election.

Once he tried to give me a bunch of cassettes he brought back from the Philippines. "You listen to Tagalog music, so you learn how to speak." Really dad? I asked. Is that how you learn language? "Yah!" he said, and then started to walk away, because he knew what was coming next. Gee, I have a Master's degree in foreign language pedagogy, and I've never heard of that technique..... I was interrupted by a "hmph" as he left the room.

Before our holiday trip to Vegas, my sister and I bought a half dozen oysters. I steamed them on the stove and then opened them with the shucker and a kitchen towel. Don't tell my dad that I've learned to shuck an oyster, I think it would crush him emotionally to know that I not dumber than a sea otter.

No it wouldn't. He would tell me I was doing it wrong.

Back in Town

There is no place like home! I love spending the holidays with my parents and eating my Mama's food. I wish I could do it more often.

There is NO place like home! We got back to Seattle in the early afternoon yesterday, after a meal-less flight on Alaska. I had reserved an aisle seat for myself, and the seat next to me for my sister, but when we got to our row there was an enormous man in the middle seat. Enormous. We said that we had the middle and the aisle, and he said, "ok, I'll get up" implying that he was giving us the window. I am a big person myself, but I realized there was no way he would fit in his assigned window seat. So I sat in the window seat, my sister took the middle, and let Mr. Huge have the aisle. I was surprised by how comfortable I was... I think it's psychological: I realized I wasn't the fattest man on the plane, so I felt as skinny as a high school distance runner. My sister told me later that he smelled faintly of urine.

H's friend L picked us up from the airport. Tenks Gad! We dropped of some stuff at my place, I went through my post flight routine (which H has observed with precision to the point of prediction) and then I took her in my car, now named "Death Trap," to her place across town. We stopped at Musashi to have sushi. Then we continued on to her place, and I fell asleep on her bed.

I was thinking about how Princess the dog learned not to beg me for food, because I was firm with her. I called my mama to tell her, and she said, "Whaaaaaaaat? YOOOOOOOOUUUUUUU thougtht about Princess? Hee hee hee hee!"

I like my parents' dog. She's mellow and well behaved. I don't like that she is a pee-on-the-carpet risk, but she was smart enough to learn to not beg me for food, and I'm glad now that my parents have a common focus/distraction. I tried to keep in mind, "What would the C�sar do?" I used a firm, low tone with her when I wanted her to do something (like stop begging). I looked her in the eye, and she deferred. I used her name as praise. I was consistent and precise with my language. I only pet her when we were outside in the yard. I tried to be the leader of the pack, not a person needing emotional validation. It's not much different from being a high school teacher.

I think my dad tries to win the dog's affection by feeding her. Nothing I can do.

Anyway, I got up from my nap, stopped at the grocery store, and then came home.

I've started researching in earnest now, trying to buy a car. I've decided to use my credit union's car buying service, in an effort to avoid all the crappy hassle and dickering. It is much much MUCH better than getting the slick "no pressure" business in the glitzy lot, only to be hot boxed later by the lady in the back with the 10 key and the screws to my blood pressure. Forget it!

So the first car I looked at today was a 2003 Mitsubishi Galant, which came in just under my price ceiling; the service had it driven up from Portland. It was a dream to test drive; comfortable, responsive, just awesome. I loved it. It even had a moon roof. There were two cons: 1) it has 60k on it already; and 2) the back is so high, I can't see very well to parallel park The spoiler doesn't help. Still, everything else was great.

I came home and looked up reliablity and safety ratings, and they aren't stellar. Just ok. So I'll probably pass. Good bye moon roof. Tomorrow I will test drive a 2004 or 2005 Corolla. We'll see.

The only think I do know is that I want to donate the Death Trap to charity. I know some of those agencies take your car and only give the charity a percentage, so I want to be careful about who I donate to. I googled for a charity, and found my own workplace listed as accepting donations. Ha! So I'm leaning towards Catholic Community Services, Jewish Family Services, or the YWCA. I'm not going to get maximum $$, so I want it to help poor people and sick people directly. DIRECTLY! I don't want it to go towards celebrity galas or for-profit car donation agencies.

Where to begin...

So Midnight Mass was a drag. First of all, we got there early, way too early, as if we were competing for a parking spot at St. Mike's in Olympia. Then, the priest was long-winded, he couldn't land the plane. And he took every opportunity to work the crowd, even before the blessing asking visitors to raise their hands and say where they're from. Also, he didn't seem to have a plan for his sermon; he just went from cliche to tangential cliche. It was well past two when we finally got home, and unlike in Seattle, we weren't able to turn on the tv and watch John Paul, because, well, John Paul is with the Lord now. Also, Las Vegas tv doesn't broadcast Mass at St. Peter's. Oh well.

On Christmas Day we stayed home, mostly, preparing for the Uncle J and Auntie M to come over. Dad and I went on a quest to find non-gross wine, went to three different stores, came home with a mediocre chardonnay. I had been looking for a vinho verde. Mama got a little obsessed with cooking, and made turkey, pansit palabok, roast pork. I made caesar salad wid anchovies, stuffing with sausage and apple, and mashed potatoes with evaporated milk. It was good. I made two batches of gravy, the first one tasted like burnt drippings, the second one was a subtle, butterless triumph. When the others came over, we fed them, and then opened some brown elephant gifts (no rules, just opening). There was some off key karaoke. The kids invited us to go bowling, but I thought we better spend the evening with Mama.

Today we had leftovers for breakfast. There was a shopping exursion... we took the loooooooong way around the city. There seemed to be a dust storm blowing. Once we got to Ross, I looked and found nothing I liked, so then I walked around the enormous strip mall, came back to Ross only to find the women folk not even close to wanting to leave. I asked my dad for the keys to the car, so I could at least sit, but he said that he was hungry, and that I should buy him lunch. So we drove across the enormous stripmall parking lot to the mexican place, which was authentic but not necessarily good. I had three tacos.

Then we went to the outlet mall near the strip, the one the tourists all take taxis to.... That place was a zoo. I went into a number of stores but didn't find any shoes that I wanted to buy. My sister, on the other hand, bought plenty of stuff. Me, I will pay a lot for a good pair of shoes, and then wear them for two years until they fall apart. That's all I want, and I don't mind if they cost a lot.

We came home and ate leftovers. Now my mom is watching tv with the dog and my sister and I are computing. Computing! We might catch a 10:00 o'clock movie.

Day Three: Christmas Eve

Woke up this morning a little before eleven. Made a big crab meat omelete. Went with Mama and H to Mama's favorite hairstylist in Walmart. She gave me a good haircut on the top and sides, but the back is still a little long. I'll fix it in Seattle.

The three of us went back to Rincon de Buenos Aires for a half pound of jamon serrano, and sat down for some empanadas and ensalada rusa. Just a little snacky snack.

Came back, took a nap. Delicious nap. Dreamt I was in a Christmas party, but didn't want to talk to anyone, so I snuck into the kitchen to eat cashews, which were RAW, so I made a decision to roast them. At that point, the music playing at the party was "White Christmas" starting as an esoteric enterpretation, turning smoothly into a jazz instrumental, turning into an instrumental, turning into an electronically modified vocal, turning into a choir, turning into a woman singer, who sang the lyrics "... and may all Vietnam's Christmases be white! (of course not really, because it's a tropical climate...)"

Woke up and had arrozcaldo for dinner, which is usually the food at midnight, but we had it for dinner. H was the only one who had wrapped gifts, so we did our gifts then. I got some starwars dvds and some socks. Thanks H!

At midnight, we'll have jamon serrano. We'll be attending midnight Mass at St. James. I should try to take another nap.

Day Two in La Mentirosa

Got woken up at 8 this morning by the sister and the dog. Breakfast was sausage, eggs, and fried rice. Went back to sleep. Got up and putzed around a little. Parents came home with groceries, including several crab. Mama steamed them in the bbq outside, and we had lunch out on the patio; crab, caesar salad, bread. I shelled the crabs we didn't get to at lunch; that will be in our omelete tomorrow.

Let's see.... I needed a chinelas because the ones I brought broke. Looked for some at Ross and the 99cents store, before finding some for under two dollars at super oppression Wallmart. After that, we went to have tapas at Firefly; albondigas, jamon serrano, queso manchego, pulpo asado, patatas bravas, empanaditas. The empanadas were fried, and the jamon y queso were served with some pickled ginger you usually find with nigiri. Our waiter's name was Paulo from Brazil.

After dinner we went to the Fashion Show Mall, looked for H's boots and went to the Apple Store, but I asked to be taken home due to a gaseous anomaly in my stomach. I took care of it and laid down for a while. H came back from the pharmacy with some Airborne, becase we think we're coming down with something.

H and I Google Earthed for a while, and then when our parents were in bed, H and I decided to go for a drive. We parked at Circus Circus (which is a part of Latin America, que viva) and found our way to Slots A Fun, and the 99 cent 1/2 lb hot dog, which we split. By the time we went back to the car, we smelt like a couple of ash trays just from walking through the casino. GROSS. We drove to the Bellagio and walked around there a little; not much to do after midnight. Drove home smelling like the ash tray family. It's almost 3am.

The dog is well behaved and charming, but has peed twice in the dining room. My parents try to earn her affection by trying to feed her all the time (sound familiar?), so they're not much of a dog pack.

We bought a palate of Dasani because the water here tastes bad. Tomorrow: Christmas Eve.

Christmas in Vegas

The day started early this morning, back in the 206. I had packed my bag and shaved the night before, so I took a shower and drove to Ballard to pick up H. The longest night of the year was lasting well into 7am, and it was definitely scary to drive across town in my Toyota, which kept fogging up. As soon as I get back, I'm buying a new car.

Anyway, picked up that H and drove back home; made a quick omelet out of leftover sashimi, which made a delicious breakfast along with H's leftover Indian food (spinach and pork on rice). One of our superpowers is to be able to eat anything for breakfast. Dinner for breakfast is our speciality.

B came over and took us to the airport. We bu-reezed through check in and security, hung out at the gate, boarded our flight and found ourselves in Las Vegas. H is making an effort not to hate it this time, which is courageous. I was less offended this time by the commercials blaring incessantly at baggage claim, but almost puked on the slow-walking man in front of me who felt the need to share his cigar smoke with the people of the airport.

The parents picked us up; met the new dog in the car. We went straight to lunch, as we were all hungry. Usually, I have a rule that I have to go straight home after a flight, but I kept my mouth shut this time, as everyone was hungry, and since it was early afternoon, I felt I could contain my exhaustion. I nearly fell asleep at lunch.

We went to dim sum at a restaurant called Cathay, which is some Hong Kong reference; however, in filipino, it sounds like the word for saliva. I have to say, I didn't enjoy the food there; it was about as good as the worst dim sum in Seattle. To be fair, though, it was already 2pm, and the kitchen was winding down.

After lunch we walked across the parking lot to an Argentinian grocery/deli/bakery/cafe and the smell of roasted meat was divine. The hostess pointed out that there were some peruvian products in the grocery... she probably pegged us as japanese peruvians... in las vegas somehow. Anyway, we'll try to get back there for lunch before we go back to Seattle. It was called de rincon Buenos Aires something, and there were big poster boards in the window with famous argentinian references, like "Evita."

Came home, hung out in the yard for a while. Decided to go to the book store, because mama wanted a book about psychics. Went to the grocery for Christmas cookie supplies, and then came home. Dinner was salmon steaks and caesar salad.

I found a recipe for christmas cookies on-line with cream cheese in them. they turned out fine. I don't really like christmas cookies, but it was fun to make them. As we were decorating them, we started connecting the dots with the whole cultural practice of making christmas cookies, decorating them, putting them in tins, giving them as gifts, etc. My family immigrated over 30 years ago, but no one had ever explained to us about christmas cookies.

Anyway, the cookies turned out fine. The icing recipe turned out to be a frosting recipe, posted on the web by somebody who doesn't know the difference between frosting and icing. We'll see.

Tomorrow: fresh tortillas, hair cut... all kinds of shopping. We might even try making a proper icing. We'll see.

Intelligent Design.

If we're talking about science, and evolution is a theory, then intelligent design is a hypothesis.
The scope of science class is not to teach the subject of science; the observation and study of the natural world.

It's so comical that these people choose to bring the fight over (I'll say it!) literal creationism, when there are real problems in the world, like poverty, hunger, and war. Haven't they ever heard of a parable? Sheesh.

Let alone the separation of Church and State.

Breakfast at noon

This was my breakfast at noon. It was raining, so I drove six blocks south to Pho Hoa, which is your standard no-nonsense pho place, with other stuff on the menu as well. This was number 32:

32. B�n Thit Nuong Cha Gi� Grilled Pork and Fried Roll served with thin
vermicelli noodles and vegetable.

and it was delicious. In fact, the fried roll was still hot, which doesn't always happen.

I put in some mintues practicing guitar. I wish I could just play it! The problem is, I'm not one of those guys that can sit for hours alone practicing. Me, I do it for attention, not necessarily the love of music. Maybe this time next year I'll be performing already, and I'll laugh about the time in ol' 2005 when I complained about sight reading.

I'm going to start taking real pictures with my real digital camera. I love break! Any ideas on what to get my parents for christmas?

PS. A word about the war on Christmas. The word "Holiday" is an inclusive word. "Christmas" is not a bad word, but there are some people (gasp) that don't celebrate it. The people who decry the "War on Christmas" are what we call intolerant.

Some people feel victimized by politically correct speech. That's because for them, it's purely theoretical. They cannot identify with anyone outside of their homogenous chunk of heaven.
Here's a thought: Politically correct speech is CORRECT speech. It calls people what they want to be called. If your name is "Mark", do you want me to get your name wrong? How do you feel if I call you "Bitch Potato" instead of, say "Mark?" No? That's why it's important to get cultural terms right.

However, if you are making up terms in order to appear sensitive (the most famous invented term being "Caucasian"), that's pseudo political correctness, and if you don't know the difference, you should check yourself, because you'd be surprised how many of your acquaintences resent your ignorant ass. 

Colonel Angus

I love this skit. It's bastos, but in a giggly way, not bastos in a bastos way.

We get it!

There's a scene in Chronicles of Narnia where Aslan leaves the party, walking along the beach.

Here's my hommage:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord. Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.

In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand. Sometimes there were two sets of footprints, other times there were one set of footprints. This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life, when I was suffering from anguish, sorrow or defeat, I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord, �You promised me Lord, that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there have only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?�

And the Lord replied, "ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWR!"

"...shameful act..."

Dear Mr. President,

Reporting the truth your illegal activities to a free press is not a shameful act.

A shameful act is something like violating the constitution you swore to uphold.

A shameful act is bringing the world to war, and putting our sons and daughters in harm's way, and then not even apologizing when the pretext of WMDs turns out to be a total bust.

A shameful act is "bringing the war to them," which is obviously false, and based on a racist assumption that attacking the poorest muslims will end terrorism.

A shameful act is wanting to use torture and the threat of torture in the name of the American people.

You call it a war on Al Qaida, a war on terrorism. It's not. It's empire building. Imperialism in our lifetime, that's a shameful act.

My hope for the Iraqi people is that they are successful in their new goverment and independence. And may their new government be more faithful than their constitution than you.

2nd lunch?

It was kind of like a second lunch, since I had such a late breakfast. Took A to the airport. Met H at the cookie shop, had lunch (2nd lunch) at India Bistro. Didn't eat much.

I'm a big fan of video.google.com, especially the one about sushi and the one about Germano Mosconi.

Guitar lessons. Return DVD player. Get car loan. Nap.

Nap it is! 

Christmas Break

Christmas break has started, thank you Jesus. What is there to not write about? Well, the Advent Mass, which started with me doing five minutes of stand up; the Christmas Assembly, which the mc kept reminding us was disappointing; the FSC party, the k10team lunch at Johnny Rockets... After that I went downtown to buy a sweater, and once my purchase was complete, I decided to walk through the bon to my car, which was in the garage.

I was just about to leave the men's department when I heard "�profesor!" It was a tall, good looking, solid, well dressed kid I had never seen before, who beared a slight resemblance to a nice, dopey kid I had taught as a freshman who always wore basketball shorts, an oversized tshirt, and a baseball cap, and didn't say too much. Now? He's about to graduate from college, applied to 20 law schools (how many are you going to attend?). I talked to him more there in the men's department than I had ever talked to him as a student.

I have to say, I was very glad to see him, although it did remind me very accutely of when I was young, attractive, full of promise for the future; before I became.... high school teacher for life. How bleak!

For lunch today I treated myself to the enchiladas chipotle at Taquer�a el rinconsito. The beans made me sleepy, so I took a nap before writing this post, and I'm still a little groggy.

I want to go to Boracchini's to get more spaghetti sauce. I tried to make my spaghetti can-o-tuna with cheaper sauce and it was gross.

Tonight we're wrecking Leilani Lanes karaoke.

Baby Otter Day

Today H and I had brunch at New Kowloon in the ID. Afterward, we went to the Seattle Aquarium to see the new baby otter. We went to Ranch 99, and then to Southcenter. I'm looking for a nice zip up cardigan i can wear to Mass on Christmas.

I've also been shopping for Christmas presents for my parents, but so far no ideas.

Go HERE to see a few seconds of video I took of the Baby and Mamma Otter, floating in the water. The mamma waves to the camera, pushes off the wall, and fluffs her baby's fur, which keeps it waterproof and insulated.

Who's that?

what?

Big spikey fish!

There's a star fish eating a fish!!

a cup of tea?

It's me again!

Hey look at me!

Spaghetti Can-o-tuna

Mmm. This was my dinner tonight, spaghetti al tonno. Just use the fancy tomato sauce you've been saving in your cupboard. I recommend Borracchini's Cioppino style spaghetti sauce in a jar. I just use half. Heat it, stir in a can of tuna (preferrably packed in oil), and when the spaghetti's ready, mix it together. You can capers to spice it up a bit.

Spaghetti warns us never to use parmeggiano on fish. Who am I to argue. I remember having dinner once with my Italian family, and they asked us what we had for dinner in America. My room mate answered 'spaghetti.' My Italian family, looked around at each other, and I had to explain to them that in America, spaghetti is a main course, especially among single men in college.

They were a little shocked. To them, pasta is a side dish, so it's a little like suggesting to an American that potato salad can stand alone as a main dish. I considered telling them that sometimes American college students eat a bowl of cereal for dinner, but I didn't want to hurt their feelings.

Food Panic!

I told my friend J I'd meet her at her place at 5:30, to go buy Harry Potter IMAX tickets, grab a quick dinner, and then go to the 7:15 show.

At around 4:15 I was struck by food panic! Too late to grab light lunch! So I made myself a cheese omlette, and snacked on some napa kim chee. That should hold me over until six.

I should be grading now, BUT I'M NOT.

Instead, I'm practicing guitar, trying to figure out why my tap water is running brown, and watching the Food Channel. Christmas cookies have never been part of my family's cultural knowledge, but maybe this year it will happen.

Why? Well, Christmas has been unpredictable for the last few years. Last year was fun, but it was a little strange to be on the road--especially since I had strep. The year before that, we were in Vegas, which is just bizzare, especially midnight Mass at Guardian Angel Cathedral. Bizzare.

The Christmas before that, H and I went to bed without dinner waiting for my parents to come home. Where were they? Eating steak and lobster without us.

If we even go near a casino this year, there will be a fight. For those of you who don't know me, I remain mad until I get an apology. I never 'cool off' and I never forget and I never let it go. Why should I? So can fall for it again later, like a chump?

A few years ago I called my father and demanded that he apologize for not letting me play with my helicopter. He played with it for what seemed like forever, and wouldn't let me play. There's a picture of me, sitting next to him, crying. And for the next 20 years, I didn't ever want him to touch my stuff. Ever.

So when I called him, he thought I was insane for asking for an apology after 2o plus years, and of course, he said it just to placate me. But just the act of standing up for myself made me feel better. A lot better! I even thanked him.

Asking for forgiveness is so easy and so worth it. What does it cost? Only your ego.

Anyway, hopefully there will only be happy memories this Christmas. I better start making plans now, so we don't end up defaulting to something irritating.

Oh yah.

Last night I saw a preview of the Chronicles of Narnia. It's nice. It reminded me how brave Londonners were during the blitz. However, I was a little distracted by all the Christ imagery. I mean, come on, we get it!

The CBS Pope mini-series concludes tonight. I wasn't going to watch either, but I got sucked into the ABC one when they showed Mons. Romero. I'm pretty sure the CBS isn't going to talk about the Prophet of El Salvador, but I'll probably watch it as I make a worksheet.

A realization: the study of literature is a cultural study. OH! See, that makes perfect sense to me.

*flinching in anticipation of your comments*

The War On Christmas

I have better things to do than to weigh in on the so-called War on Christmas. However, the recent disappearance of Christmas trees and on the Eastside and "Merry Christmas" from school lunch menus reminded me of the French ban on headscarves, somehow. Not that I agree with Ken Schram.

The separation of Church and State is meant to protect us from opression the oppression of the majority. It honors all of our different and varied religions. It does not say that we have to be non religious; rather, it guarantees our freedom of religious expression.

I'm looking at my own Christmas tree in my living room right now, and no, it certainly does not express my religion. Does a Christmas tree in a public school express religion? Probably not. However, intent is not the issue. The question we should be asking is this: How many people are we willing to offend with a pseudo expression of religion?

If the answer is less than one, then get rid of the Christmas tree. Get rid of it. Get rid of it and get over it, because it's not about you.

It's not that public schools and institutions should squelch the Christianity of the majority. It's that Christianity of the majority is looking more and more like State religion.

You want your Christmas tree? Figure out how to guarantee everyone else's religious expression.

How crappy is it that we are supposed to have freedom of religious expression, but we only ever honor one religion?

As for the Catholic League, they should save their energy for things that matter. Here are some suggestions: poverty. hunger. injustice. sex abuse in the clergy. state execution.

Seriously, there are more pressing issues. More pressing Catholic issues. More pressing than the First Family's holiday card. Stupid.

You can call it Little Saigon if you want.

The historic International District of Seattle stretches from southeast of Pioneer Square all the way up to the Rizal Bridge to Beacon Hill. Those of us that are from here call it 'the ID.' The ID has seen it's share of tough times. The Kingdome took out blocks and blocks of the neighborhood. Building use restritions mean that most of the apartment buildings are vacant. The freeway sliced the district in half. Jackson Street used to be the main drag of the ID, just a few blocks from the original Skid Road. Jackson itself was charactarized by Japanese Americans on one end and on the other end, a terribly important music scene was going on. Remember in the movie Ray when Ray Charles gets off the bus and meets Quincy Jones? That was Jackson Street.

Anyway, the stadiums came in and pushed people out. Building code emptied the hotels. I-5 split the ID into east and west. Families moved to other neighborhoods. Still, it is the heart of Asian Seattle.

A few years ago, the mostly Chinese merchants west of I-5 made a big stink about calling their section "Chinatown." Yes, most of the residents are elderly Filipino; yes, there are still obvious traces of the Japanese American roots there.... But the merchants do have a point: white people, especially the ones not from around here, WANT to call it Chinatown, because in New York and San Francisco it's called Chinatown, because they like the idea of an ethnic enclave, because it's good for business. Ok, Chinese merchants, make money. You can call it Chinatown if you want. Signs to the neighborhood now say "Chinatown International District."

A word to the white people who hate political correctness: it's ALWAYS been called the International District. YOU PEOPLE called it the International District. "Chinatown" is a marketing move directed at YOU. When you ask us, "why do you have to be so PC, why don't you just call it 'chinatown," the answer is, "you are a moron." Got it?

On the other side of the freeway from "Chinatown" is a part of the ID that became very Vietnamese in the 1970s. It is NOT called "Chinatown." Some people call it "Little Saigon." And you can call it that, if it helps you.

I've eaten at Saigon Bistro on Jackson street two days in a row, now, to get the nasty taste of Saigon Pearl (Broadway) out of my mind. Yesterday, I had grilled pork and rice; today I had herby little beef sausage brochette with rice. Each are only $6.00.

I should spent more time extolling the praises of Saigon Bistro, but I want to talk about how unpleasant Saigon Pearl was.

First, I didn't really understand the menu. Second, the tea was nasty. Third, I ordered beef skewers with rice, and what got delivered to my table was beef skewers with fried rice, which was disappointing. The fried rice was cooked in turmeric, vegetronic frozen peas and carrots, and rewarmed in oil. Yuck. I was given a fork but no spoon, which is a tell-tale sign that no Asian people don't eat there. Finally, I had to ask for fish sauce! The waiter looked surprised! Oh! You eat fish sauce? Very sad. Sheesh, I hope the pho is better, for their sake.

Saigon Bistro was faster, cheaper, better. I might even go again tomorrow!

Probably not. Maybe! Nah. Well, maybe...

charming

I hit 'next blog' and found this charming photo blog. Enjoy!

Sweatshirt has been modified to protect the innocent

pick a number!

Roll it!

separating!

Lumpia rolling party

ready for the party!

Brown Elephant 2005

First of all, let me say that my favorite Dec 1st post that I've read so far is here, although I am enjoying d's discussion about yao-fen and the jiggaboo.

So here are the highlights of Brown Elephant 2005.

• It is too cold to cook lumpia outside.
• Wild salmon filet is delicious, but cooking it under the broiler burns the shallots and sets off the fire alarm. $50 well spent.
• Electronic catch phrase works fine as a hot-potato drinking game. Brring! you have a phone call!
• People were not excited about miso soup or grocery veggie tray. Plenty of stir fry at my house for the next few days!
• Let H sit on the couch! She's due in February!

Some of the gifts that the Brown Elephant brought us:

• a flask in the shape of a cell phone
• a poster of my sister's face photo shopped onto Charlize Theron's body.
• bobble-head cheerleader L
• a framed picture of T, shirtless and flexing
• a wind-up penguine, that poops cola flavored candy poops
• a set of ping pong ball guns
• a regifted cheese plate in the shape of a wine glass
• reindeer antlers
• America; Land of the Free t-shirt
• Eagle clutching the General Lee, six pack of Miller High Life

The menu:

• broiled salmon: shallots, olive oil
• chicken/pork lumpia
• bbq pork
• frozen mini-quiches
• veggie tray
• miso soup
• unfrozen cheese cake
• mochi ice-cream

Everything was easy easy easy to make, except for the lumpia, which became a segment of the party. Lumpia making, eating, brown elephant, and brring!

Am I losing posts?

I posted this before, and blogger search actually finds where I posted it, but for some reason it's unavailable now. Boo. I seem to be losing posts.

Well, thanks to Prof. B for reminding me, and to D for the original assist.





create your own visited countries map

Life must be comfortable.

Shame on you, Jerry Falwell.

There are real problems in this world. Hunger, poverty, disease, war. People are suffering right now; do you even realize? Spend your energy on something worthwhile.

You invent pseudo-righteous issues to keep you in the spotlight. You profit from them. You are both a pharisee and a money changer.

Profeta

�En nombre de Dios, pues, y en nombre de este sufrido pueblo cuyos lamentos suben hasta el cielo cada d�a m�s tumultuosos, les suplico, les ruego, les ordeno en nombre de Dios: �cese la represi�n...!�

Mons. Romero, 23 March 1980, in his final homily before his assasination.

Back then, we believed that the Cold War was cold. We didn�t realize that the Cold War was being fought hot with blood and bullets in Central America.

The US and the Vatican backed the murderous government of El Salvador, equating the poor Marxist farmers to the godless enemy in the shadowy Soviet Kremlin. We didn't understand the situation in Latin America was different than it was in Eastern Europe. We didn't get that the capitalist government in El Salvador was evil, evil, evil. John Paul didn't get it until Romero himself took a bullet to the chest.

Mons. Romero called for his people to turn away from evil. He stood on the word and spoke truth to power. They killed him.

We know he was a martyr. We know he was a prophet. There's a movement to have him cannonized as a saint, but to the people of the Lempa River basin, the debate at the Vatican couldn't be more irrelevant. We already know.

December 1

Hey everyone, happy blog-against-racism day! This is my blog against racism!

I'll write it later.