PMSimon.com

Gray Davis is now taking shots at Arnold's accent, telling a voter something to the effect of "how can you govern the state when you can't pronounce its name?" Needless to say, Arnold's campaign wants an apology, and it's another one of those campaign "issues." It's an outrage, they're saying. How dare you bring up a candidate's accent.

But why not?

Let me just say right off the bat that I'm the son of a first-generation immigrant mother who had an accent. Mom's accent was thick enough that she couldn't say certain words quite right. "Th" came out "s." Some words came out mangled. It was adorable, actually, and we used to have fun with her by asking her to pronounce words with which we knew she'd have trouble ("Mom! Say that name!"- pointing at a road sign for the Conshohocken exit. "Um, con... con... constipocken?"). She had fun with it, too, actually. I got the impression she'd crank it up a notch to amuse us. But I'd hear her talk on the phone in animated Yiddish and there was no question which was her more comfortable language.

Did the accent get in the way? Not really- our mom wasn't all-American like the other moms, but that was OK to us. All it meant was that, to this day, when I get really, really tired, some words come out a little odd- odder than my usual nasal PhilaJersey accent, turning "th" into "t" or even my mom's "s." So it didn't hurt me, it wasn't an issue, no harm, no foul.

And Arnold's accent isn't really a problem, either. He's a great communicator, and the accent, well, you understand what he's saying and laugh along with him at the way he says it. Could he be an effective governor calling the state "Kahl-ee-FON-ya"? Sure.

But should it never be an issue?

Teachers whose accents are impenetrable. Service people- clerks, reservations agents, tech support- whose accents are hard to understand. Doctors with accents trying to communicate with patients. There are several situations where accents ARE- SHOULD be- an issue.

Could governor be one of them? If it gets in the way of effective communication, yes.

Davis, true to his usual form, is saying this in a typically ham-handed manner. You can bet that any accented politician from the Mexican-American community he's so assiduously courting would get a pass from him, whether any Anglo could understand the candidate or not. But say a candidate comes up speaking Spanish and little English, a not-too-far-fetched scenario in California (or Texas, or Florida, or New Mexico, or Arizona...). He or she has an accent thick enough to render his or her English impossible to easily follow, but Spanish is another story. Say that candidate is running for L.A. mayor, where a solid Latino vote could get someone elected. Say that candidate DOES get elected. Is that a good thing for the English-speaking population, who wouldn't be able to understand nor communicate with the new mayor in their language?

It's not like this can't happen. I'd be willing to bet that it WILL happen. And I'm not saying someone like that can't be a good mayor. In fact, the opposite might very well be true. But should that be considered verboten as a campaign issue? Should we never talk about it? Is it poor manners, gauche, even racist to raise the issue?

Not really. And that's why, in this one case, Davis, hypocritical as he may be, isn't necessarily 100% wrong. But if his point is valid, he ought to include his own allies in the criticism. I wouldn't hold my breath for that.

 Share

How the hell can the Phillies expect to go anywhere in October if you look down to their bullpen and Mike Williams is in it? Forget the absence of a closer- if your setup guy's so weak that you have to keep bringing Turk Wendell (!) and Rheal Cormier (!!) in to bail him out, you might as well start planning for next season.

Just thought I'd mention it.

UPDATE: OK, if they can manage 9th inning comebacks and extra-inning wins, well, maybe. But they can still use a closer and a one-way ticket for Mike Williams to Siberia. You'd think they'd have learned their lesson with relievers named M. Williams 10 years ago.

 Share

On Sunday morning, I was trying to find some football talk on the radio before kickoff of the early NFL games. Where I live, you can get seven- one simulcast trio, two separate ESPN affiliates, two Sporting News affiliates, and a Fox affiliate from up the coast. With that many choices, it would stand to reason that there'd be some football talk at that time of morning, but several of the stations were in specialty mode- racing shows, a surfing show, that kind of thing. And then there were the gambling shows- not really shows, but infomercials disguised as talk shows. They're talking football, all right, but not really- they tease you with suggestions that they know the "keys to the game," then urge you to call for the "free" "lock" of the day, whereupon they surely try to suck your bank account dry.

So I kept trying, and after an hour a local L.A. show came up, hosted by a pair of radio sales guys. Really. They gave some sales guys a show. They're not horrible, actually, but it wasn't exactly expert analysis. Fair enough, I can deal with that. But then they introduced a "guest," a "noted Vegas handicapper" who one of the hosts introduced by claiming they'd received several calls and letters demanding to know when he'd be back on the air. The guest sounded exactly like every other Vegas tout, fast talking, insistent that he and only he had the inside skinny on the big games and that he would MAKE YOU MONEY. The hosts agreed- they'd MADE BIG MONEY listening to him.

And he had a free lock he'd give you RIGHT THEN AND THERE on the air, just to show you how he can MAKE YOU MONEY. The lock? Take New England over Buffalo. No question. Pats win outright. Take them even if you end up giving a point and a half on the road. Bills can't win. Bledsoe's a failure. You can see it in his face as he comes off the field- confusion and hurt. Take the Patriots, and that's just a sample of the locks you could get every week if you want to MAKE MONEY. Just call the toll free number and hand over your credit card number. Do it. Now.

You know what happened to that lock.

I'm not against gambling. I am not a stranger to the sports books of Vegas. But the handicappers are another story. There's an industry built on having zero additional knowledge above that of the average attentive fan, yet they find people who'll gladly sign up in the vain hope that it'll give them an edge. Sure it will. But that's their problem and their prerogative.

No, what gets me is that radio stations and hosts are willing to sell their own reputations down the river like that. The segment I heard was in a regular talk show- not labeled as an ad or infomercial. I don't know that there was any compensation for it- I assume there wasn't. But just having that guy on the show made the whole station sound like a fraud. I'm a sports fan, I like sports radio, I hear regular hosts on the station treat this handicapper like a real, respected, legitimate guest, and I'm supposed to trust this station to give me the real deal? They lost me. I'm gone. I'm sure I'm not alone.

Was that worth it?

To the management, yeah, probably, it was worth it. They need to show a positive bottom line growing by the amount dictated by corporate. You don't get there turning down business, however badly it damages you for the future. There's precedent for this kind of thing destroying a station- what used to be the dominant- and only- talk station in a major, major market went the infomercial route where a regular talk show would suddenly have a "special guest co-host" for a half-hour of talk about hair replacement or something like that, barely identified as a paid program, using the same host who'd normally be there. The station ended up dropping talk after decades of dominance. It was suicide, death by management insistence on bleeding every last dime out of the station.

And I hear stations dancing on that knife edge again. It's painful, but it damages more than that station's reputation. It makes radio look cheesy, as cheesy as a UHF station that runs infomercials in prime time, as cheesy as "Bears Football Presented by Bank One," as cheesy as crossover shows where the cast of a struggling sitcom suddenly appears as visitors on a hit show ("Look who moved next door, Raymond, it's the people from 'Still Standing'!"). Radio gets little respect despite being one of the most effective, interesting, laden-with-possibilities media on earth. People think of it as disposable or, worse, think it "sucks" and look to satellite for salvation. And radio people wonder why.

Here's an idea- treat yourself and the medium with respect. Don't do stuff just for the money. Do stuff you're proud to air. Be creative, fearless. Do your part to make radio the great medium we know it can be.

I'm dreaming, right?

 Share

I was listening to some radio show or other today when someone asked why people who come to America from elsewhere don't let go of their country of origin, or at least put them on a par. It was something about a new car with California plates and a Mexican flag- not Mexican and American flags, just Mexico, and, well, America is the land where the driver earned the kind of living that blah blah blah. I realized that the host could just as well have been talking about me.

What? No, I'm not from Mexico. And I don't drive around with a flag from my native country on the back window (for the record, that would be an American flag, anyway). But I do retain an illogical relationship with my former residence.

I live in L.A. I'm a Philadelphia sports fan.

There really is no logical reason to retain sports loyalties- after all, I don't live in the Delaware Valley anymore and I won't be moving back. And it's not like the Philly teams did anything for ME. But there I was Monday, agonizing over the Eagles' lack of offense as they embarrassed themselves in the opener at the Linc (where I will likely never see a game, by the way). Why? Why can't I just switch to L.A. teams, like a friend of mine did when he solemnly informed me that he would henceforth be rooting against my Phillies for the wild card- he ditched his Mets and is now a Dodger fan?

I can't do that.

I guess it's the emotional investment. You put in years and years and you experience things, lows like years of mediocrity and worse, Mitch Williams throwing a hanging slider to Joe Carter and Rich Kotite being Rich Kotite, the highs of the 1980 Philies and 1983 Sixers, the decades of Harry Kalas- "that ball is OUTA HERRRRE, home run MIchael Jack Schmidt"- and Whitey and Merrill Reese on the radio and the plastic-n-urine ambiance of The Vet and the third level of the Spectrum with the sweet smell of illicit substances wafting over the Sixers and Pistons in some meaningless early season game 25 years ago. You don't throw that away, especially for the hated L.A. teams. You chant "BEAT L.A.!" for 30 years, you don't suddenly become a Laker fan.

There's no football here, either. (USC doesn't count.)

So I guess that's why I haven't joined the dark side. It's not nationalism, it's not an irrational love of the Mother Country. It's just that I've gone this far with the Phils and Iggles and Sixers and Flyers, and I'm in too deep to change course now. Oh, I'll go to Dodger and Laker and King and Angel and Duck games, but, when it comes down to it, I don't care whether they win or lose. My heart's still at Broad and Pattison 3,000 miles northeast.

I know, it's stupid. I'm a sports fan. Stupid is what we do best.

 Share

Tom McClintock isn't getting the message.

He refuses to leave the gubernatorial race despite every sign that he a) has no chance, and b) will, by his ballot presence, ensure the election of his polar opposite. This is what he's managing to ignore:

-The pleas of his fellow Republicans.
-The sentiment of the general electorate.
-The polls.
-The talk show hosts.
-EVERYBODY ON EARTH.

OK, there's an exception to the last one. For some reason, about 12 percent of voters are sticking with Tom, and I've heard them flooding radio talk show phone lines, repeating their mantras: Tom's the only true Republican, Tom is more Republican than Arnold, Tom has a plan, Tom can win.

Those are, respectively, probably true, probably true, probably true, patently false.

Someday, maybe, McClintock can win statewide office. He's certainly smart enough, dedicated enough, good enough. But he's not yet well-known enough, and, on top of that, he's a social conservative in a state where that's increasingly a losing position. He's not going to win this race. And everybody HAS to know that.

So who are these people sticking with him? Who's still aboard this Titanic?

There are certain people who would rather be, in their own minds, right than successful. That would be a laudable position IF IT MADE ANY SENSE. If you don't win, you don't get to effect change, you are IRRELEVANT. "Right"? No, you're not right. You're a loser. Worse, if your insistence on ideological purity allows a far worse candidate to win, you're beyond a loser, you're complicit in the winner's misdeeds. If you insist you'd rather vote for McClintock than Arnold because of the latter's suspect credentials, you're ensuring that Bustamante will be given the reins and you're ensuring every tax hike and social reengineering program Bustamante wants will be passed. You're the same as the Greens who voted for Nader- smug in your self-righteousness, but just as much to blame for the guy who got in as someone who actually voted for him.

If you're one of those people, and you're sincere that you don't want Bustmante to win, you need deprogramming. Here's what you need to do- put down the Kool-Aid. Put it down. Back away slowly. There- wasn't so hard, was it? Now, you're going to have to put the sanctimony in the closet for a few weeks, OK? You can get it back October 8, I promise. Just put it away.

Please. Do not stick us with Cruz Bustamante. If you do, and he does what's on his agenda, you will regret it. Just put down the Kool-Aid. It's full of carbs, anyway.

 Share

I could go on at length about today's anniversary- I may still- but I doubt I could nail it as perfectly as Lileks did today. Go, read this. Sample:

I’ve no doubt that if Seattle or Boston or Manhattan goes up in a bright white flash there will be those who blame it all on Bush. We squandered the world’s good will. We threw away the opportunity to atone, and lashed out. Really? You want to see lashing out? Imagine Kabul and Mecca and Baghdad and Tehran on 9/14 crowned with mushroom clouds: that’s lashing out. Imagine the President in the National Cathedral castigating Islam instead of sitting next to an Imam who's giving a homily. Mosques burned, oil fields occupied, smart bombs slamming into Syrian palaces. We could have gone full Roman on anyone we wanted, but we didn’t. And we won’t.

And then there's the last part, where his description of a widow's world is one of the clearest, starkest descriptions of life going on after tragedy that you will ever encounter.

Go! Read it.

 Share

"Evil" has a definition. You can read it here.

I raise this point because I heard some radio hosts say an astonishingly stupid thing today. They were discussing, naturally, the anniversary of the attacks when one of the trio said something to the effect that "you know, Bush shouldn't have called bin Laden evil."

What?

He said Bush shouldn't have called bin Laden evil.

Oh.

Why?

Well, you see, evil's such a judgement, and it's kinda, you know, religious and it conjures up a big room with a conference table with Satan sitting there and bin Laden nearby in the corner or something.

One of his co-hosts said that's exactly what she thought it was like. The other co-host agreed with the first guy, that "evil" was an unnecessary adjective.

The most frightening thing that's occured in the wake of 9/11 hasn't been more terrorist attacks, and it hasn't been war. They're terrifying enough, but what's most shocking is how so many people are unwilling to say that the terrorists were evil, that there even IS evil in the world. It's a remnant of public education of the 60's and later, when you went from being taught good from bad, right from wrong to "nothing is black and white, everything's in shades of grey." Nothing is purely evil, nothing is purely good, ergo there IS no evil and is no good. (There were exceptions- Hitler, of course, and Nixon. But not Stalin- he was very good to the working people he didn't have murdered) Generations have grown up thinking there is no such thing as easily identifiable evil- "evil" is what the preacher rails against on Sunday morning. "Eeeeeeeevull." That's not a concept for us modern secular free-thinkers.

But not believing that there is evil leads to blindness- they see murder and oppression and look for excuses; they see self-defense and call it murder, or morally equivalent to murder. They see an underdog and assume it's always right, while the big guy's always wrong, and therefore nothing the underdog does- murder, subjugation of women, exploitation of children, teaching lies and hatred to children- is "evil." That's such an outmoded, old-fashioned, religious concept.

Which brings us back to the threesome on the radio this lunchtime. "Evil" is an uncool old people's word to them, and unnecessarily provocative to boot. Better we just call them terrorists... no, that's judgemental, too. Militants. That's better.

And that's how you turn into the BBC or Reuters.

But these weren't newspeople. They were just "wacky" radio "personalities" thrust into the ill-fitting role of news analysis on a day when "wacky" wasn't appropriate. But they're just echoing the kind of thing their friends say, the media says, even some Democratic presidential candidates say. Can't call bin Laden, or Saddam, or Usay and Qusay, or the Saudis or the mullahs or anyone evil. (Except Bush and the Jews... er, Israelis) Gotta look at all sides of an issue. Can't just say something's wrong. Gotta investigate the root causes. Maybe they have a reason.

They murder children.

There is no reason for that.

That's evil.

Simple.

If you can't see that, brother, then you just can't see.

 Share

Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.

 Share

That white fountain-type thing across the 405- you can barely make it out, but it's in front of the white building on top of the hill- is Al Jolson's grave.

Nobody knows who he was anymore. But you can't miss his grave- he made sure of it. "The Jazz Singer" is a trivia question, the blackface thing a distant embarrassment, "Mammy" forgotten, not even played on "adult standards" stations. Once, he was world-famous enough to afford this tribute to himself; now, nothing. Such is fame. I'll guess that Johnny Cash will last a while, John Ritter less so. It doesn't matter what you do or how great you are. Someday, you're gonna hafta go, and when you do, the statute of limitations runs on your celebrity. Eventually, you're Al Jolson, so you might as well build a monument to yourself.

Incidentally, the cemetery- Hillside- sits on the edge of Culver City. It was the cemetery where Jewish celebrities were buried for decades, because they weren't welcome in some other celebrity post-death hangouts. In the 60's, they bulldozed a freeway right past its gates, and, now, the old peekaboo ocean view's blocked by buildings and the freeway. Not great for mourners, but Al's not complaining.

 Share

Amazing.

 Share

Okay.

 Share

It dawned on me as we shopped for cat food today that our daughter... er, cat, Ella the World's Most Famous Cat truly hit the jackpot when she was adopted by us.

That's not self-aggrandizement. It's merely a statement of fact. Think about it from a kitten's perspective- you want a comfortable home, unlimited food, a warm place to sleep, and people who will be at your beck and call whenever you want them to feed you or pet you or play with you. Who better than a reasonably affluent childless couple exiting youth with a desperate need to nurture and dote on somebody, anybody, something?

That would be us.

She didn't know it at first. When we were at the adoption place in Long Beach and they took her out of her carrier- "what about that one, is it up for adoption?," I asked, and it turned out she was- and handed her to Fran, then me, she curled up on our respective chests, and when I held her and looked down at her nestled on my U. of Miami sweatshirt looking up at me with big yellow eyes, I thought it was love. I later realized her reaction was sheer terror, but by then I'd already written the check, signed the papers, filled a cart with food and toys and beds and scratching surfaces and everything she could need. And after a week's worth of break-in, including a few days when she disappeared and we finally discovered she'd found a hiding space under the dishwasher, she started to grow accustomed to our faces, and the bounty we provided her every day.

Cushy life, courtesy Fran and Perry, the Official Support Crew for Ella the World's Most Famous Cat.

So I never get out of PetSmart without a cartful of stuff for Ella. Three flavors of Fancy Feast, several cans of each. Big bag o' Science Diet dry food. Five- FIVE!- flavors of Whisker Lickins crunchy treats. The huge ultra-economy size of litter. She's set for a while with everything she needs. And she knows it. She knows because she's learned that when she's hungry- that would be about 3 am- she merely needs to wake me up to get food. This is accomplished in several ways, like licking my lips until I spring into the bolt upright position, or jumping on and off the bed until I stir, or her favorite move, just sitting behind Fran and... staring. Staring at me. I know she does it, because any time I begin to regain consciousness in the middle of the night, and I look through bleary eyes at my wife slumbering away, Ella's always there, a silhouetted cat head against the moonlight, staring, staring lasers through me until the alarm goes off at 5 and- joy!- the sardines, shrimp and crab in aspic will appear, along with some Science Diet dry food, some crunchy munchies, fresh water. And the rest of the day is filled with sleep and playing fetch with little foam soccer balls and sleep and making noises at the squirrels and sleep and more crunchy treats and sleep, all the way to midnight, which is when she likes to run back and forth all over the house at high speed.

Life is good for Ella the World's Most Famous Cat, no doubt about it. And that's why it appears to me she's won the cat equivalent of the lottery, or even better. Free food, room and board for life, slave labor to bring you treats and dispose of your waste and clean you and even pet you and play ball with you. You win the Powerball, you have to PAY for someone to pet you. Hourly rates. Ella gets it all for free, in perpetuity, no taxes.

And she gets us, and we get her. She wins the lottery. And when we saw her one sunny February Saturday afternoon in Long Beach, we did, too.

 Share