Scooter of Hope, Scooter of Change

I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today - Guster (mp3)
Election Night - Broadway Calls (mp3)

“How’s all that hopin’ and changin’ workin’ out for ya?”

Transporting a full Grande Misto via scooter is no simple feat. Most scooters, mine included, come sans cup holder, sans trunk. I have two locations for storage on my Yamaha Riva: a very snug and teensy glove box set into the steering column, and my “hard case,” the roundish clamshell-looking contraption behind the seat.

Thanks to Starbucks stoppers -- I once called it a “Green Coffee Buttplug” and received very disappointed looks from the barista -- I have created the fairly reliable practice of scooting back to work with minimal spillage using some 10 napkins and cocooning the cup in the glove box, where it fits quite snugly.

That said, the process takes a few minutes. And it was in the midst of mummifying my coffee and nestling it into the glove that I heard, muffled through my helmet, the quote above. I looked up, and there was this older man, a little bit oily or sweaty, probably in his early 70s, smiling out of his Caddy. Or maybe it was an Oldsmobile. I’ve never been good with cars, but I know it was Amur’can.

Being clueless, I said, “Excuse me?” because the quote seemed without context. I was trying to connect his comments to my attempts to store coffee in a scooter.

And he repeated himself. “How’s all that hopin’ and changin’ workin’ out for ya?”

I still didn’t really get it. So I said, “Um, fine I guess.” And I smiled.

The man was shaking his head before I had even answered, with the same kind of smile I tend to have when I see some moron on the other side of the road driving without headlights after dusk. Then he pushed out a few of those annoyed chuckles before saying, “I’m glad I’ll be dead before I have to see this country go completely up in smoke.”

So, at that point, I finally got it. By then, this old dude has rolled up his window and pulled out of his spot. Off, I guess, to sneer at other young fools and their idiotic notions of hope and change, preferably from the comfort of his enclosed air-conditioned American-made isolation chamber.

My scooter has seven stickers. Three are UNC-related. One is the ubiquitous Apple logo. One is for a band called The Rescues. Another is for the Good People Brewing Company of Alabama. And one is for the Chattanooga Football Club. None of these are of a remote political nature. I’m not much of one for political signs, because I tend to think religion and politics carry too much negative energy in first impressions. And, in those rare moments when either topic creates positive impressions, it’s at the expense of those who don’t belong to your imaginary club.

I don’t think anyone looks at my Good People Brewing Company sticker and thinks, “Ahh, a fellow beer drinker. We’re better than those snotty wine-drinking assholes.” No one sees my Chattanooga FC sticker and thinks, “Fuck the Titans and their oblong monstrosity!”

But put a cross, or a fish, or a “W” or an “O” on your vehicle, and you are painting a double-yellow line in the road that says, “You’re either on my side and going in the (proper) direction, or you’re not.”

Nothing too wrong with talking politics and religion, but not on a first date, and certainly not with people you haven’t even met yet.

This old man made an assumption: youngish coffee-drinking asshole on a nerdy scooter = Obama voter. That he was right makes him more lucky than brilliant. That he looks forward to dying before the US sinks into some Muslim apocalypse makes him exactly the kind of conservative that makes lots of people despise conservatives. (Just a reminder that I’m plenty guilty of this prejudgement habit.)

Why would someone be anti-change? As a species, we talk all the time about how dangerous it is to forget our past, yet so many of us use words like “tradition” and “the good ol’ days” without the slightest bit of irony. Tradition is for Druids. Want tradition? Go to a 3rd world Muslim country, because they’re steeped in tradition so ancient it would knock your great-great-granddaddy’s socks off. But in America? Seriously? Tradition for us is, like, McDonalds french fries. Or something even more shameful like watching an evening news program together as a family while eating TV dinners on TV trays.

As a country, very little of our history is based on anything BUT change.

But I get the whole anti-change thing. We get older. We wish Peter Gabriel and REM still ruled the music landscape. We detest those wacky R&B people with their wacky R&B booties and def cuts. We detest Faith Hill for being twice as hot and half as talented as Loretta Lynn. I get it. It’s kinda goofy, but with every passing year, I find myself fighting that very instinct to wish things were more like they Used Ta Be.

So it sucks to be anti-change, but it’s also an absurd curse of human nature.

But here’s what would really really suck: to be “Anti-Hope.” To be the person who is opposed, politically or otherwise, to hope. I’d like to think that one could be reasonably opposed to Obama and the Democratic Party without being Anti-Hope. Obama didn’t trademark the word. He doesn’t own it. I’m rooting for the guy, but even if you don’t want to, please don’t be against Hope.

Trust me. You don’t want to be that old man in the Oldsmobile. It’s not a happy or contented life.

100 Days

Raphael Saadiq--"100 Yard Dash" (mp3)

"Tea Parties" protest taxation without representation!

Pirates on the high seas!

Scandals over a bare-armed First Lady!

Is this the 21st century or the 18th century? Or just another day at the office for still-new President Barack Obama?

Any day now, the evaluations of Obama's first 100 days in office will start appearing all over the place, and they will, no doubt, be all over the map. Many will be critical, as Obama has been blamed for pretty much everything, including the last 20 years of the U.S. economy and the disappearance of Matchbox 20 from the modern musical landscape.

Put me in the camp of giving him high marks. Here's why.

First and foremost, I give him extremely high marks for that most intangible of intangibles: I like knowing that he is my president. I like knowing that he is in the house, that his family appears to be a normal one addressing normal American family issues. I like knowing that regardless of how many crises go on at once, no matter how many irons he has in the fire, he seems to be having fun being president. That must be what pisses off the right wing the most. Here is a guy who may have his own cool factor, but what he really thinks is cool is being president. He isn't dwelling on burdens of the job or tough decisions, though they are obviously there since these are tough times; instead, he handles the job like it is a job--that he's going to give it all he has in any given day, but that he knows he isn't going to get it all done, and tomorrow, he's going to get up and keep working at it.

Even the most right wing of right wingers would not try to argue at this point that John McCain could have handled this complex economic, social, international, political landscape.

My second praise of Obama comes in response to the many criticisms against him. If you bundled them all up and took a look at them, here's what you would discover: Obama is being criticized for being the Democrat that he is. His approaches to economic troubles, to health care, to stem cell research, to Cuba, you name it, his approaches are Democratic approaches. Now, I don't care if you're Republican or Democrat, because this is not a case of right or wrong. Instead, it's a case of "if I had been elected, that's not how I would have done it." Agreed. We get that. Now acknowledge that he is the one who did get elected and he's doing it the way he said he was going to do it.

My God, he's gotten a lot done in less than 100 days:

He's gotten major legislation through.

He's conducted a successful European trip.

He's begun to address global warming.

He's reversed Bush on stem cells.

He's reversed about 10 (wrong) presidents on Cuba.

He's handled a tough decision as Commander-in-Chief with flying colors.

He's picked the NCAA national champion.

He's made the tough call that St. Louis might actually have better deep dish pizza than Chicago.

He's fulfilled his campaign promise to his family about the dog.

He's called out Rush Limbaugh.

He's begun the national health care discussion.

He's taken on Wall Street and Detroit auto.

He's begun to get us thinking about how we need to change our lifestyles.

As my friend said across the table in a bar tonight, "I like the fact that he's willing to try things. And, hey, if they don't work, then he'll try something else."

Yep, it's probably no real surprise that I'm a big fan. In a world where so many of us have to multi-task all the time, where we're talking to one person and texting another, where we're juggling work and family and concern for the environment and the love of a good meal, we've got a president who seems to understand and do all of that on a much larger scale, a scale that he handles with grace and aplomb. Is he willing to get a little down and dirty to accomplish what he wants? Yes. But guess what? I have to do the same thing every day. And I don't mind a class war, even if I'm on the losing side. I guess that makes me a liberal, too, eh?

Obama and Me

XTC--"The Ballad Of Peter Pumpkinhead" (mp3)

"he looked a lot like you and an awful lot like me" --Andy Partridge

The following original article about Barack Obama is reprinted from The Guardian UK. After all of the hoopla about how Sarah Palin was one of us, I thought I might compare myself to Obama. I have added in italics how I stack up.

Fifty things you might not know about Barack Obama (or me)

By Jon Swaine

(and Bob)

• He collects Spider-Man and Conan the Barbarian comics. I once had an impressive collection of comic books that my mother threw away; my more impressive baseball card collection she sold to someone for $10.

• He was known as "O'Bomber" at high school for his skill at basketball. I had a friend in 9th grade who insisted on calling me "Cassius," though I never knew why.

• His name means "one who is blessed" in Swahili. My name is a verb, meaning "to float up and down in water."

• His favourite meal is wife Michelle's shrimp linguini. I don't generally find that Italian cooking is the proper setting for shrimp.

• He won a Grammy in 2006 for the audio version of his memoir, Dreams From My Father. Using two cassette recorders, I once cut a version of Neil Young's "Cortez The Killer" at a beach in Portsmouth, New Hampshire that captured the waves crashing ashore and a taped rhythm guitar, while I sang and played lead guitar live, getting 4 different tracks onto a cassette tape, perhaps the first lo-fi recording in history?

• He is left-handed – the sixth post-war president to be left-handed. I, too, am left-handed, though I eat right-handed, but while in Korea this past summer, I instinctively learned to use chopsticks left-handed, even though I play guitar right-handed.

• He has read every Harry Potter book. I have read every Hemingway book.

• He owns a set of red boxing gloves autographed by Muhammad Ali. I have Roberto Clemente's autograph.

• He worked in a Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop as a teenager and now can't stand ice cream. I worked in a bakery as a teenager, and, as a result, have a strong distrust for store-bought baked goods. except for thumbprint cookies.

• His favourite snacks are chocolate-peanut protein bars. I had to quit keeping pretzels in my office for my students because I was ripping through them like crazy.

• He ate dog meat, snake meat, and roasted grasshopper while living in Indonesia. I have an intact dog.

• He can speak Spanish. I have never been to Spain, but I kinda like the music.

• While on the campaign trail he refused to watch CNN and had sports channels on instead. I thought a good portion of CNN's election year coverage sucked, but I do have a thing for Campbell Brown and, just based on seeing him on TV, my wife outed Anderson Cooper.

• His favourite drink is black forest berry iced tea. I am drinking my favorite drink as I write this; it comes from the oldest brewery in America.

• He promised Michelle he would quit smoking before running for president – he didn't. If that's the only promise he's ever broken, he's in great shape.

• He kept a pet ape called Tata while in Indonesia. My friend Tommy has a brother-in-law's brother named Tanu.

• He can bench press an impressive 200lbs. I weigh an impressive 200+ lbs, which means he can probably bench press me.

• He was known as Barry until university when he asked to be addressed by his full name. My original name was to be Todd Robert, until my father decided that other kids would make fun of me by calling me "Hot Toddy."

• His favourite book is Moby-Dick by Herman Melville. I bought a copy of Moby-Dick just this year, intending to read it.

• He visited Wokingham, Berks, in 1996 for the stag party of his half-sister's fiancé, but left when a stripper arrived. I am pretty sure I would have stayed.

• His desk in his Senate office once belonged to Robert Kennedy. I believe every JFK assassination conspiracy theory.

• He and Michelle made $4.2 million (£2.7 million) last year, with much coming from sales of his books. I have written a novel, a writing help book, and a cookbook, all of which have netted me $0.

• His favourite films are Casablanca and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. My wife likes films; I like movies, preferably World War II movies.

• He carries a tiny Madonna and child statue and a bracelet belonging to a soldier in Iraq for good luck. My Ipod never leaves me.

• He applied to appear in a black pin-up calendar while at Harvard but was rejected by the all-female committee. Most likely, I, too, would have been rejected.

• His favourite music includes Miles Davis, Bob Dylan, Bach and The Fugees. My daughters think that The Fugees' version of "Killing Me Softly" is superior to the Roberta Flack original. Plus, here's perhaps the only raunchy classical music joke you'll ever hear: Why did Bach have so many children? Because his organ didn't have any stops.

• He took Michelle to see the Spike Lee film Do The Right Thing on their first date. I also took my wife to see Do The Right Thing, when she was pregnant with our first child, and, powerful though the film was, we were so tantalized by the pizzas coming out of the oven in that movie that we went right across the street and got pizza as soon as the movie let out.

• He enjoys playing Scrabble and poker. I find the sign "Liquor in the front. Poker in the rear" unceasingly funny for some reason.

• He doesn't drink coffee and rarely drinks alcohol. He doesn't teach.

• He would have liked to have been an architect if he were not a politician. I plan to build a brick oven in my back yard.

• As a teenager he took drugs including marijuana and cocaine. No cocaine for me, Barry!

• His daughters' ambitions are to go to Yale before becoming an actress (Malia, 10) and to sing and dance (Sasha, 7). My childhood ambition was to become "an ice cream man on a battleship." I'm sorry, I have no explanation.

• He hates the youth trend for trousers which sag beneath the backside. I don't like tatoos, piercings, and am especially freaked out by those earlobes that get stretched real big.

• He repaid his student loan only four years ago after signing his book deal. This pisses me off for some reason.

• His house in Chicago has four fire places. When I was 11, I came home to find the kitchen on fire and my father asleep on the couch and I briefly became the hero of the family.

• Daughter Malia's godmother is Jesse Jackson's daughter Santita. One of Emma's godfathers is the former drummer of Spinart recording artists, The Technical Jed.

• He says his worst habit is constantly checking his BlackBerry. My wife does the same thing, even in bed. If Blackberry advertises a soundless scroll button, they're lying.

• He uses an Apple Mac laptop. The school owns my laptop, is reluctant about updating to the latest version of Itunes, and won't let me download the program so that I can "watch instantly" on Netflix.

• He drives a Ford Escape Hybrid, having ditched his gas-guzzling Chrysler 300. Growing up in Pittsburgh, we had a gold Chrysler 300 with a black interior. Not only was it hot as a motherfucker, but, stylistically, what was my dad thinking?

• He wears $1,500 (£952) Hart Schaffner Marx suits. The black suit I currently wear came from Target and cost less than $100.

• He owns four identical pairs of black size 11 shoes. My feet are also size 11. I wonder if he has Birkenstocks.

• He has his hair cut once a week by his Chicago barber, Zariff, who charges $21 (£13). My barber, LaDonna, of the Pioneer Barber Shop in East Ridge, cuts my hair 3 or 4 times a year; she charges $12 and I tip her $2. She vacations in Daytona Beach each year.

• His favourite fictional television programmes are Mash and The Wire. Dude, I cannot believe that McNulty tried to fake a serial killer!

• He was given the code name "Renegade" by his Secret Service handlers. On a website that generated Mafia names when you entered your name, my friend Chet came out as "Chimpy Nuts."

• He was nicknamed "Bar" by his late grandmother. As a child, my dad called me "Boo"as an affectionate nickname; my brother effectively tormented me with the same nickname. Tone matters.

• He plans to install a basketball court in the White House grounds. Once on a very cold night in Pittsburgh when I was about 13, my parents allowed us to use the hose to create a thick layer of ice on our drivway and play ice hockey all night; in the morning, the sun heated the blacktop underneath and ruined it quickly.

• His favourite artist is Pablo Picasso. I got no problem with that. Which period?

• His speciality as a cook is chili. Cooking is my specialty.

• He has said many of his friends in Indonesia were "street urchins." I wonder what they said about him? Probably that he pals around with terrorists.

• He keeps on his desk a carving of a wooden hand holding an egg, a Kenyan symbol of the fragility of life. I have pretty soft hands and am fairly adept at the egg toss, even at long distances, but, like all things, eventually that egg must break.

• His late father was a senior economist for the Kenyan government. I have a B.S. in Economics from the Wharton School of Business at the University of Pennsylvania. Go figure.