Partisan Marketing: Buy Red/Blue

The dividing of America continues. With many states still defining themselves defiantly as “blue” or “red”, it’s no big surprise that corporate America is now trying to market their products directly to one side or the other.

Take a look at these outlandish schemes to divide our country!


The Blue Man Group – You might think these blue-painted performers are thinking about the amazing stunts for their next show. Nope! They’re dreaming of high taxes, big government, and legalized marijuana! Every dollar spent on these androgynous mutes will go to Michael Moore and the French Government. They'd rather be dead than red!

Red Zone Deodorant – Now you can stay shower fresh all day while simultaneously letting the world know you’re against gay marriage with new Old Spice Red Zone deodorant stick! Why wear Red Zone?… because the Blue Zone stinks! Choose Red Zone… it’s like having Donald Rumsfeld right in your armpit!


Blue Corn chips – What could be more natural than corn chips free of coloring and preservatives?? A woman’s right to choose of course! Blue corn chips tell the guests at your party you demand quality... and the Ten Commandments out of the classroom! Crunch all you want… George Bush sucks!


Big Red Soda – Nothing says I love Nascar like a sugar-filled soda that will turn your lips red and your neck redder! Big Red is more than the official soda for the conservative right, it’s the soda of choice for Jesus himself! “Whoever drinketh of this soda, shall have everlasting… refreshment!”

So there ya have it.

Now wouldn't it be cool if Buy Blue endorsed the Red State Store?

Maybe then we'll all be one America.

What happens to meat when you leave it out in public? Finally, Stinky Meat has the answers. Yes, folks, we live in the age of science.

Thoughtlets VI: The Perils of Flight 453 to Burbank

Sunset on flight 453

Every now and then, there's not enough to fill a whole blog entry -- just half-thoughts and observations

- Yet again, my boarding pass had some sort of secret symbol, so I got my usual pat-down, spin-around, and wand-waving. I think they should make the boarding pass a “scratcher”. Uh-huh, match any three caliber of weapons and you win the Homeland Security dental exam.

- In the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport, there’s a sign that reads “Family Toilet” accompanied by generic stick figures of a child, mother, and father. I had to laugh, and wonder if the toilets in this room have the same evolution: a tiny child “pottie”, a dainty lady-like commode, then a manly industrial poop pipe.

- When the flight attendant announces: “We’d like to extend a special welcome to our Advantage and Advantage Gold passengers,” I like to cheer and applaud wildly from the back of the plane. It’s like she’s doing a shout-out just for me!

- I was disappointed to learn that membership in the Mile High Club has nothing to do with taking a dump at 30,000 feet. Guess I’m not a member afterall.

- If the little black box is made to survive a plane crash, why not design the whole plane out of it?

- I think that before the captain comes on the speaker, he should blow one of those Navy whistles. It could be an American Airlines trademark, and the flight attendants would know to pause the “Two and a Half Men” reruns so the captain can speak.

- Maybe the “Family Toilet” has several commodes in a circle – you know, a kind of toilet-in-the-round.

- Bernie Birmingham sez: Don’t try to bring your weed on the plane!

Bernie Says... "Welcome to Birmingham!"

So for work, we're in Birmingham, Alabama.

We happen to notice a prominent statue on the hill but can't quite make it out. The statue features a pointy part -- something raised and it's the real crux to the mystery. Over the course of the day, we've all created our own theories.

From the highway 280 interchange, I thought it looked like a man giving a German "heil". See, he's marching a goosestep and has raised his left forearm. The more I described it as such, the more convincing it got.

"Heil Alabama!" it's called. Yes, yes, it's quite un-PC and very controversial. Birmingham'ans are always bitching about the terrible Nazi statue that overlooks their town. They sigh and write letters to the editor, but Alabama is doggedly stubborn and has a very low Jewish population. And then there's a shooting, or Auburn has a football game and people get distracted and forget until the next time.

My theory is quashed in favor of another. No, no, the statue is of Daniel Boone. Wearing his trademark coonskin cap, the pointy part is not an arm, but the long barrel of his rifle, raised to defend Alabama from the vicious "redcoats" during the Revolutionary War.

Boone symbolizes the pioneer spirit of the Yankees who swept in and settled Birmingham -- seizing these lands from the French who baked bagettes and ruled with snobbery from here to Louisiana. It now seems quite obvious to me that the "pointy" is a rifle barrel. How could I have thought otherwise??

Finally, both theories are rejected in favor of a real one. The statue is of "Bernie Birmingham." He's the town mascot and, lemme tell ya, a pretty hip character!

His arm points skyward in a cool "Saturday Night Fever"-like dance pose. Built in the 80's for the "Birmingham Says No to Drugs" campaign, "Bernie's" likeness can now be seen on highway signs and local cable access channels with slogans such as: Bernie says: Buckle up Birmingham! and more recently, Bernie says: Don't forget to vote Republican!

Tonight, I returned to the hotel and googled "Birmingham statue" to find the truth. Turns out, none of us were right. The mystery statue is that of Vulcan!

Well, I completely fell out of my chair. Apparently, no one can drive a wedge between this town and its love of Star Trek! You go, Birmingham!

Perhaps the lesson from this tale is that culture doesn't have to be of this world. A town as rich in history as Birmingham can move past the French occupation, its dislike of the Jews and it's "McGruff the Crime Dog" style mascot -- to really embrace a more universal future.

To do otherwise would be... "illogical."

New Link

This week's hilarious link is called Ready.gov Kids Korner.

But don't type in "Ready.gov." That will take you to the real Office of Homeland Security... which I tried and is not funny at all!

Invisible Monkeys Doing Morse Code

In 2002, I stopped believing in the "meant to be."

I guess that means I gave up on "fate". Geez, might as well toss in divine interventions, karma, prayers, and other stuff of the non-chaos kind.

I have become comfortably at ease knowing life is a splattering of random events -- a white noise static of bleeps, dots and dashes which we navigate on a whim until either chaos or time snuffs us out. But every now and then...

Do you ever notice a pattern in the static??

Someone says something here, that relates to what just happened there -- which gets repeated by a stranger the next day, who sends you to visit this guy, which leads you to call a friend, whom you know you helped with your call, and you're not even making any of it happen, you're just living your life, but it goes on and on...

Well, since New Year Eve, this has been happening to me. Unbelieveable irony, concentric circles of happenstance, and poignant life narrative. I'm almost reluctant to mention it, as if looking it in the eye would make it disappear. But that would imply that I believe in some sort of superstition, which I don't (see above first 3 sentences).

But maybe instead I believe that there are invisible monkeys running around all of us with little monkey telegraph machines, trying to send us messages in their own monkey way. It's sort of like the monkeys with typewriters eventually writing Shakespeare, but that's just silly -- and I'm throwing out the Shakespeare part because that just isn't the right metaphor.

Every now and then, the cacaphony of dots and dashes become coherent and the monkeys get through to us. And they don't feel invisible anymore. It's fascinating. But when I typically try to dissect the monkey message, I am left perplexed and empty. But this time...

Rather than search the message for meaning, I'll just be content that the monkeys are there. And that, this time, I'm actually doing some tap, tap, tapping myself.

US Determined to Win Tsunami Donation Competition

I'm just waiting on the soundbite...

"When it comes to donating, we will prevail."

Is it just me, or has humanitarian aid entered the spin zone? There have been massive humanitarian disasters before, but I don't remember it ever having the same flavor as what we've seen from our government this time. It's almost as if there's been a flurry of meetings in the war room.

Gentlemen, the Japanese are kicking our assess with cash donations, what are we going to do?

Let's send over some aircraft carriers!

Yeah! Japan's not allowed to have those!

Ooh! Let's send Jeb Bush to Sri Lanka!

I know, let's wheel out Clinton and George H.W. Bush!

Do I smell Karl Rove??

Maybe I'm being too political, but doesn't this whole thing seem kind of pedantic? Why enlist two former presidents to get Americans to donate?

Did Dick Sargent call up Dick York for acting tips? Did Sammy Hagar call David Lee Roth to help promote Van Halen's new album??

There are lots of other things the President could do to get help. Why not do a live address to the nation from the Oval Office and appeal to all Americans to give? Or call up the California Governor and ask him to get on TV. "Crisis tuhminated".

I have no doubt that Americans are digging deep to help out. But hopefully we'll all remember that it's our giving reputation at stake this time. There are other formidable global givers out there hot on our tails. And being number two is very un-American.

Unconventional New Years Eve

Ah, New Year’s Eve! Eating and drinking with friends… the countdown to midnight… and of course the two hours of silence as you stare at a wall!

Well, that’s the way I rang in the New Year by going to the Green Gulch Zen Center outside of San Francisco. My friend Rig, the LA yoga teacher, was going and had encouraged me to check it out. I had never been to Green Gulch and wish I could have arrived earlier so I could have seen the place before dark. But I got there in time for dinner and was pleased to see some familiar faces from Tassajara, where I go every summer.

Events began with our first “sit” (meditation) in the zendo at about 8pm. For about 90 minutes, I sat with everyone else, staring at the wall watching thoughts go by. Of course I hadn’t meditated for some time, so I did more than watch the thoughts, I participated with them and rode the typical surf of my mind at play: fantasizing about the future and rehashing the past.

At 9:30, we gathered candles and put them in paper boats to set them afloat on the pond while reciting a chant.

Eyes of compassion
observing sentient beings
assemble an ocean of blessings
beyond measure

Unfortunately, the wind and pouring rain proved too much for the tiny flames and after five relightings of my own candle, we were called to the dining hall and abandoned the endeavor. A scant few candles lit up the pond.

In the dining hall, we were served soup with noodles. This was a silent meal and there wasn’t enough seats for everyone so I ate quickly then got up to make room for others. I went outside with Rig to see the sky completely clear and full of stars. The rain was gone!

At 10:30pm, we returned to the zendo and continued meditation. This time I was more disciplined. Relax. Observe. Be. And then at midnight, as my friend Rig rang the bell 108 times…

All my ancient, twisted karma,
From beginningless greed, hate, and delusion.
Born through body, speech and mind,
I now fully avow

We then proceeded to a bonfire where Rig had sneaked in a bottle of champagne. Everyone burned resolutions and cxchanged well-wishes before retiring to bed. (It pays to know people… while all the other guests were crowded in the zendo, I got my own private room!)

After morning meditation, we were led by Zen Center leaders, including Reb Anderson, in a procession to bow at all the altars on the farm. Reb lead us all in a toast of sake, which I wish I could recite here, but I will leave it with: “May all beings be happy…”





This photo is of Fu, Joan, Rig, and me after the toast. I wish I had gotten more pictures, but was afraid photos would be too obtrusive during events.

It was a wonderful way to usher in 2005, which I’m hopeful is going to be a great year for all us humans!