Supersoak that Filipino: Barack Obama, Latino-Palooza and Malt Liquor

America sits on the precipice of a great and grim milestone as we confront the fact that it will soon be cheaper to buy a gallon of malt liquor than a gallon of gas. And where does that leave our families? Obviously, we’re not finding any comfort in the teenage karaoke dronings of American Idol because the ratings for that show are ever plummeting. Same, too, for the pomp and pageantry of America’s Prom, the Academy Awards, which this past Sunday also hit a low ratings mark. Even in Los Angeles, where self-congratulation is a way of life, interest in this year’s awards ceremony was low. What on earth is going on here? Do we need to exhume Ronald Reagan’s corpse so that he can invent crack cocaine AGAIN and give us all a reason to go on in our misery?

No, we don’t actually. It turns out that all of these signs of the times are wonderful omens. The kids aren’t watching American Idol because they’re in their bedrooms making “crush on Obama” parody videos and posting them on youtube. The New York Times Carpetbagger entertainment reporter noted that in a big deal LA restaurant the day before the Oscars, there was more buzz about the democratic debates than the Academy Awards. And if malt liquor is cheaper than gas, then we’ll all be drinking more and driving less, which even an oil man at an AA meeting would agree is better for the planet.

Wacky times, indeed. We might as well call the past week or so Latino-Palooza, as Fidel Castro stepped down, Hillary and Obama went to Texas and talked about sensible immigration reform for an hour and at one point, cable news pundits were speculating that the race for the democratic nomination might very well be decided by Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico! Not that I grant much merit to the cable news folks, but they have been doing this election thing for a while. I heard a Texas pollster speculate that the vote in his state is so fractured among Latinos and women voters that the primary may well hinge on the votes of white males. Finally! An election in America decided by that oft-ignored, marginalized segment of the population: white males. I was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired.

It’s almost not worth mentioning the most recent debate in Ohio, except as another stubborn, bent and rusted nail in the coffin of Mrs. Clinton’s campaign. I’m told the dumbest thing you can do is count a Clinton out, as they are known for miraculous comebacks (or satanic pacts, whatever), but her showing in Columbus was just hard to watch and made it nearly impossible to believe that she can do anything at this point more spectacular than slowly dissolve and disappear into a pile of clothes on the ground while screaming, “I’m melting! I’m melting!”. It almost feels like any day now, Chelsea is going to come out and give her endorsement of Obama.

All of her recent antics, even leaving the debate aside, have been off putting and unnerving and I’m honestly afraid that she’s going to snap and start punching holes in the wall. It’s gonna be like when Elmer Fudd would take his hat off and stomps on it out of sheer exasperation. And Obama will just be standing there, as cool as the other side of the pillow, chomping on a carrot and asking her what’s up.

Obama walked away from the debate in Ohio with a newly-buffed impenetrable sheen of inevitability. In a very public, very embarrassing and almost disgustingly trashy ploy to chip away at this sheen, a man introduced John McCain at a rally by repeatedly reminding people that the democratic frontrunner’s full name is Barack Hussein Obama. Well, of course it didn’t work. Nothing can touch that guy right now. His name could be Vomit Hitler Mellencamp and America would still love him. That’s comforting.

He’s the right man for right now because he is a transcendant character. A global cantidate. And today we have another reminder of planet Earth’s mind-boggling cultural globalism, which comes, of course, from the Philippines. Those tightly choreographed pop culture obsessed Filipino prison inmates are at it again. Last time, they made Michael Jackson’s Thriller relevant again after 25 years and now they have made a move to immortalize Soulja Boys’ dance hit of this past year. There’s nothing like pacific islander convicts dancing in unison to an American rap song about graphic sex acts to draw this whole this into focus: it’s not just about America. The world needs Barack Obama.

Tornado Tuesday: San Francisco's Return to Glory

I’ve been covering this campaign season largely, and rather embarrassingly, from a microfiber couch in San Jose. Mostly, I flip from MSNBC to Comedy Central and peruse the internet and I call that “reporting”. But now that Gigantor Tuesday has blown through California, I have to say it looks a lot different when the election actually comes to town.
I saw enough surreal and marvelous things in my hometown of San Francisco on Super Tuesday to carry my enthusiasm for the campaign on into the fall. The question mark first appeared over my head in a barber shop in the Fillmore, where every few minutes a teenager strolled in for a haircut wearing an “I voted” sticker on his oversized Scarface tshirt. Later on, I saw the two bike riding Mission hipsters, standing on the corner of Van Ness and market, holding a banner that read, “San Francisco Chooses Obama”, smiling and waving at passing cars. At the donut shop on the same corner, two homeless Vietnam vets shared a cup of coffee. The one with the beard told the one in the camouflage, “I voted for Mrs Clinton, brother. You?”
Across the intersection, a graying couple with wool socks in sandals held a sign up for Hillary. A Filipino lady slowed her Honda down and stuck her head out of the window, smiling at them, to grab her own Hillary sign. An old white guy drove by in a Mercedes and honked for the Obama hipsters.
If I tried to analyze it, I would say in very loose terms that it looks like the old people voted for Hillary and the youngsters voted for Obama. But that’s not really true and I don’t really care. This is a different kind of politicized San Francisco than I’ve witnessed in my life. I’ve only ever seen combative and angry political action in this city (however necessary). Stop The War (both wars). Impeach Bush (both Bushes). Stop gentrification (first with the artists then with the tech boom). It was either that or some ridiculous Spearhead concert in Dolores Park with barefoot dancing to free Mumia or Tibet or whatever. Noble enough causes, all of them, but I never saw any glimpse of hope in the tactics.
I’ve never seen people genuinely excited about alternatives or any tangible progress. People came out in record numbers back in 2004, but not because they liked John Kerry, rather because they didn’t like the president. And even though yesterday, people had signs supporting different candidates, this was not a day of divisive politics. Most San Franciscans seem to want the same thing, we just have a different idea of who should do it.
An old friend and fellow native San Franciscan sent me text messages all day long, sharing similar observations. He told me he saw some kids holding “honk 4 obama” signs and he gave them a honk. Then he made a poetic comparison by saying that sharing that moment with them felt like when he wore a 49er jersey in the Mission District as a kid and every body waved and gave high fives.
Those were the proudest San Francisco moments I can remember—excitement about the Niners and the Giants, in better days. It says a lot that my friend made that comparison and it taps into something deep from my childhood that I miss. And not to trivialize the unifying power of professional sports, but it’s even more exciting to be brought together by a viable political movement at the end of some dark days in this country.
Still later in the day, down 9th street, I saw a flock of 60something hippies in full gear—jester hats, tie dyed shirts, beads in the hair, round sunglasses—and they all carried Hillary signs, laughing as they made their way. As I rode my bike across the street, I watched them long enough to see the storefront they slipped into: one of South of Market’s famed cannabis clubs.
I’ve heard that these presidential nominations used to be decided by a bunch of old, rich white men in the proverbial “smoke filled rooms”. Well it seems that in San Francisco, we still anoint our candidates in smoke filled rooms. It’s just a different cast of characters and a better variety of smoke.

No Country For Old White Men

Whenever I leave Las Vegas after a long weekend, I have that thing where I can still hear the hypnotic cling cling of slot machines in my head as the plane is taking off. And for the past month of this lunacy-laden election season, I’ve been grinding my teeth, blitzed on diet rock star at 4 in the morning and I can still hear CNN reporters and Britney updates rattling in my head. It’s maddening, but it makes for some inspired ideas.
For instance, I realized today that there is a staggering amount of parallels to be drawn between the field of presidential candidates and the recently announced academy award nominees. If you doubt me, do so at your own peril as I demonstrate this truth.

ATONEMENT: I haven’t seen this film, though I understand it is a gripping, powerful, tour de force or whatever it is that movie critics say. Let’s just say it’s an epic romance and leave it at that. And an epic romance is essentially what America saw last night as Barack and Hillary sat down to exchange pleasantries onstage at the Kodak theater (oddly enough, this is also where the Oscars will be held later this month).
They were smiling at each other, they hugged, Obama pulled Ms. Clinton’s chair out for her. Last week, I was so frustrated with these two spouse-bashing and race-baiting that I was ready to join the elephant team. Gladly, they’ve realized that viciousness will only alienate the legions of fans who have re-discovered politics because of them and they toned it down. They made amends. It was an evening of atonement. In fact, this “debate” went so far beyond atonement that it was practically make up sex. And bravo to them.
Stevie Wonder was in the audience and even he could see that if these kids make nice, they could be a “dream ticket”. You think I’m joking, but Stevie jumped out of his chair applauding wildly at the suggestion of a Hillary/Obama partnership. I can’t say those two together would ride a greased pole to the white house, but then again: take a look at the mess that they’d be up against.

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN: The night before the Hillobama love fest, the Republicans also gathered for a debate, but the results there were far from feel good. They spent half the time indulging in almost homo-erotic Reagan-worship and the other half arguing over who wants to stay in Iraq the longest. “No, I want to stay in Iraq the longest.” And then McCain said, “Oh yeah? Well, I want to stay in Iraq for 100 years!”
That last claim (paraphrased here) was made by John McCain, who seems to have the nomination locked up at this point. The only problem is, Republicans don’t like him and he doesn’t seem to understand that the war in Iraq isn’t very popular any more. Mitt Romney is losing luster by the second and Mike Huckabee . . . well, even Walker: Campaign Ranger can’t roundhouse Huck back into the race.
It’s is safe to say that the Republicans are in disarray and, at least for today, whoever they put up will eventually be slain by Hillary, Obama or some combination of the two. And that is why, in the 2008 presidential election, America is no country for old men.

THERE WILL BE BLOOD: John McCain says he wants to stay in Iraq for 100 years and the same day, 50 people are killed in a bombing in a pet market in Bagdad. Suicides among US service members have doubled since 2001, American casualties are teetering on the edge of 4000 and as the rest of the economy is collapsing, Exxon is poised to set a corporate profit record this quarter. You wouldn’t know it by listening to stump speeches, but the war in Iraq is the lethal cancer eating away at the soul of America right now. From our staggering national debt to our poor standing in the international community to a fledgling economy and low consumer confidence (not to mention the pending apocalypse), the war is the mess. And no matter what solution any candidate dreams up and eventually implements, there will be more blood.
I saw this movie and loved it. I won’t go into much detail, but for those who haven’t seen it, let me establish a simple theme. The central conflict of the film is between a soulless and greedy oil man, a true businessman, interested only in profit and growth, and with no regard for morality or spirituality and his nemesis, a passionate young preacher who hears the voice of God and inspires a growing congregation in his small town. The conflict, quite simply, is God versus money. And this is why the republicans are struggling right now. The party is fractured among faith and morality and financial issues and even further still by the war on terror and immigration.
George W Bush was elected twice because he was able to pay lip service to Christians AND Capitalists. There is no such man this time around and as a result, the GOP can’t find someone they like. So instead, they’ve got a maverick Nam Vet and a New England slickster battling it out. And in that war, there will be mud.

I’M NOT THERE: Cate Blanchett was nominated for her gender bending portrayal of Bob Dylan in this bio-pic that nobody saw but is supposedly pretty good. I chose it because the title is a fitting phrase to address the boys who have since bowed out of the race. I bid a fond farewell to John Edwards, who got an unfair rap for expensive haircuts. The truth is, he’s charming and handsome and he held down the working man old time democratic populist message harder than anybody else. I suspect he’s not gone for good. And let’s shed a lone tear for the Mayor of America, as Giuliani bows out gracefully. Maybe he can stay in Florida and spend his final years on Miami beach, making September 11th sand castles and playing with fire trucks.
Also: Bob Dylan once said that even the president of the united states sometimes must have to stand naked. So in these confusing times, if you find yourself in a polling place on February 5th unable to make a decision, just ask yourself, “who would I rather see naked”? Um, Barack Obama orrrrr . . . Hillary Clinton? Mitt Romney orrrrrrrr . . . John McCain?

And now it’s time for me to return to the teeth gnashing and the 24 hour news cycle in my head. Hope this helps.

I HEART HUCKABEE

Mike Huckabee, the Arkansas preacher man and all around jokester, appeared in conversation at the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco yesterday and I knew I couldn’t miss it. I showed up fifteen minutes late, snuck in and was glued to his every word.
I’ve liked Huckabee from the start because he’s hilarious, he plays the bass and he has Chuck Norris’ endorsement. I have strong objections to most of his ideas and positions, but I still love to hear him talk. I was curious, though, what an anti-immigration evangelical from Arkansas was doing in San Francisco and who would show up to see him.
It was quite a mosaic, actually, of aging rural white men in varying hues of flannel. Also: one nun and two Chinese people. But they gave him all their support, cheering and clapping and hooting and hollering. At one point, some women from the anti war group code pink interrupted Huck with some light heckling and unfurled a banner. They were promptly escorted out and Huckabee took a moment to say that he is proud to live in a country where people can do that and not get shot. As the second woman was carried out, he shouted to her, “try that in Cuba!” And I almost peed laughing.
Afterwards, I went to the stage to shake his hand and take pictures. I ended up inadvertently taking a picture of him with a young woman named Julie with a country lilt in her voice who took the day off of work and drove all the way from Lodi to hear Mike Huckabee speak. She said if I’m ever out in Lodi, I should come to their weekly organizing meeting which is held in the party room of the Round Table Pizza.
I looked around for Chuck Norris, but he wasn’t there, so I shuffled off a little disappointed. Not because Chuck Norris wasn’t there, but because after feb 5, I’m afraid Huckabee won’t be around any more. And I know I’ve teased him a little bit here, but he was the most direct, capitavating and genuine candidate in the Republican field. He called Romney and McCain out on their records and he had revolutionary and dynamic ideas.
In his honor, though, I will start randomly and inexplicably yelling out “try that in Cuba” at inappropriate moments. Thanks for coming to San Francisco, Mr Huckabe. That’s more than George W Bush has done in two terms as president. It means more than you know. Good Luck!