Big and Strong

Vanity Fair is running a piece on oral stories from inside the Bush White House. It's sad and depressing, and at times horrifying. We didn't kill people for oil, or to fight terrorism, or to spread the love of Jesus. We killed them to look big and strong:

Richard Clarke: That night, on 9/11, Rumsfeld came over and the others, and the president finally got back, and we had a meeting. And Rumsfeld said, You know, we’ve got to do Iraq, and everyone looked at him—at least I looked at him and Powell looked at him—like, What the hell are you talking about? And he said—I’ll never forget this—There just aren’t enough targets in Afghanistan. We need to bomb something else to prove that we’re, you know, big and strong and not going to be pushed around by these kind of attacks.

And I made the point certainly that night, and I think Powell acknowledged it, that Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. That didn’t seem to faze Rumsfeld in the least.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It really didn’t, because from the first weeks of the administration they were talking about Iraq. I just found it a little disgusting that they were talking about it while the bodies were still burning in the Pentagon and at the World Trade Center.

New Years Eve Orphan

There are no parties on the hill this year. The big houses are closed to us. And everyone is waiting around to see what everyone else will do. No one is making a commitment for anything.

I went ahead and bought a ticket for Firewater, a four-hour cruise in the harbor, thinking that I could lead by example.

No one followed. Everyone is hoping that something better will come along. They still have faith in the nightlife in this town. Silly boys.

Black Out

As far as I can tell, what happened last night was that lightning hit a power pole, and the entire electric grid shut down sector by sector ... in HECO's own words ... "to avoid a catastrophic power failure."

I don't know what the difference is between a catastrophic power failure and a 12-hour island-wide black out. I don't think we'll ever know. This spin is already happening - according to the papers we handled the storm quite well.

Although there wasn't actually a storm. There was just some lightning. No wind, no rain, no tornadoes, no water spouts ... just a lightning bolt. The governor says we learned our lesson from the last disaster, and installed portable generators at the airport.

The president-elect was safe. In other headlines, Obama ate a tuna melt for lunch yesterday, his daughters had shave-ice at Sea Life Park, and he made it on time this morning to the Marine Corps base where he works out, thought the McDonalds he usually meets his friends at was closed.

I was set to go to Tom and Joe's party last night, but figured it was off due to the black out. Now I hear that it went on and it was fun. Damn. I should've known my friends wouldn't cancel a party for silly reasons like this. I wish I had gone. Instead I bothered some friends on the phone, talked to Steve in Cali for awhile and Dawn out in Hawaii Kai, then had Maika over for some beers. It was a pleasant Friday, so no complaints. Just bummed that I missed the party.

12 Gays of Christmas

Just Click. You know you want to.

Food Policy

How's that for being one day ahead of the zeitgeist? Both the Christian Science Monitor and the New York Times ran strong articles this morning on the hopes for a new Food Policy in the US under Obama.

I'm not too optimistic. So far he's been pretty traditional in his pick of advisers - there hasn't been anything remotely progressive about most of his agenda so far. Still, at least he is rational, so there is some hope after the ideological madness of the past eight years. Christopher Cook of the CS Monitor offered these steps as a start:

1. New public investments targeting sustainable agriculture, defined as organic, small- to mid-sized, diversified farming.
2. New investments in local/regional food networks and foodsheds – to help build up the connections between farmers and consumers, to open up and expand new markets for organic farmers and those considering the transition; for more farmer's markets and food stores that feature local produce.
3. A moratorium on agribusiness mergers, and strenuous antitrust provisions and enforcement to protect what little is left of diversity in the food economy.
4. A moratorium on all new genetically modified (GMO) products, and an expansion of existing ones, and appointment of a blue-ribbon panel/commission to assess the impact of GMO foods on our environment and our health.
5. A moratorium on – and gradual phasing out of – concentrated animal feeding operations, aka factory farms, which are among the nation's top polluters of water and air, and breeders of widespread and virulent bacterial strains.
6. Dramatically expanded regulatory enforcement and staffing in the US Department of Agriculture and the Food and Drug Administration to protect food safety and meat industry labor and environmental practices.
7. Slowing the hazardously fast meatpacking (and poultry) assembly line, to protect workers and consumers.
8. Incentives for small-scale urban, suburban, and rural farming ventures oriented toward diversified local food systems.
9. Bold public investment in a raft of public awareness campaigns that build support, and expand markets and demand, for sustainable alternatives such as urban agriculture and gardening, and reducing fast-food consumption.

Food vs Stuff

I suppose the holiday is going to happen whether I do anything to prepare or not. Christmas wasn't so commercially in your face in South America. Rio had a big artificial tree floating in their lagoon, and a church I toured in Uruguay had Advent decorations. That was about it, I think. Things were low key even in Miami, which is more or less South American anyway.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, decorations are everywhere and the consultants are sending the office expensive but bland cookies and waxy chocolates and chemically-enhanced Japanese candies. I came in this morning and my stomach almost lurched when I saw another box of ... junk.

I'm having serious food withdrawals. Buenos Aires didn't have much of a cuisine - it was pretty much steak, lamb, potatoes, and wine - but what they had was world class. Grass fed and organic and fresh. And even though it's their beef that's famous it's the Patagonia lamb that I'm craving the most.

There was no 'stuff,' nothing from a can or frozen or processed or pre-made. It was a bit like Ireland and Turkey. It was real food. And even though it didn't look like people ever ate vegetables or fruit, and even though our diet gurus say Meat is Bad, the guys there were pretty fit and lean.

Michael Pollan tells us to 'eat food, not stuff.' Easier said than done. I went to Cost-Co last night and had a hard time finding food. Even the meat came from ranch-factories that feed their animals on products and hormones. I wandered the aisles, but couldn't find much. They seemed to have stopped stocking the few foods that I would normally buy. I picked up some nuts and cheese and called it quits. I ended up going to Tamuras to pick up some gourmet ingredients. It stretches my budget, but sometimes I need real food and it is getting harder and harder to find that in our stores. Even the stuff they call 'organic' and 'free-range' at Whole Foods doesn't really taste that much better.

Tamuras seems pricier, but I'm not quite sure. Good food had so much flavor that I eat less of it. I made a pasta with serrano ham and wahoo that was delicious. It was pretty thick and creamy, and I think it would only work if you use good pasta and real cream and good fish, etc. Otherwise it would just be a nasty tuna casserole.

Saute sliced shallot in 2T olive oil until shallots are slightly brown
Add 1.5 T orange zest, 2 anchovies, and two slices of minced serrano ham; saute for 5"
Add 2 T mashed green olives; saute 2"
Add 4 oz. tuna and a bit of oil; saute for 2-3"
Add .75 c cream; saute until reduced by half and sauce is thick.
Add pasta.

And that's it. Good pasta will have enough extra starch to thicken the sauce, so this was almost the consistency of a risotto. I'll make it again, maybe even tonight.

Island Life

It took almost exactly 48 hours to get home - long enough to make it all seem like a dream, something disconnected from this reality. It was 12 hours to Miami, then 12 hours in Miami. I rented a car, had breakfast, went to the beach, got bored with the beach, went to the gym, and then later realized I had forgotten my hat - a genuine peccary leather beret from Uruguay - at the gym. I liked it enough that I think I'll order another one on-line. Then it was a flight to San Francisco, and an over-night on Paulo's couch. When I left Hawai`i he was single; by the time I got to San Francisco he had a new boyfriend who had already moved in. What is it with you California boys and your new boyfriends every three months?

I unpacked right away, which was a first. Usually I leave my bags unpacked for a few weeks, as if I'm in denial that I'm back. This time I intended to dive right in, so when Ulu called with an extra ticket to the Na Leo Christmas Hula Extravaganza I jumped. Never mind that I am broke, or that I need sleep, or that I've invited a hundred people over for Christmas cocktails and the yard needs some ICU-level TLC. I live so intensely on the road, and yet at home I'm always watching my budget or making sure I get enough sleep or staying home to clean. I want to live intensely year round, not just during select seasons. I always pass when Ulu calls me. Tonight I say yes.

We'll see how long this lasts. I forgot that I'm dealing with Honolulu here. I drive and park in Waikiki, and our tourists seem so bland compared to Miami Beach or Ipanema, and I think: who are these people? At the show, I can't get over the sheer falseness of it all; it's all fake bourgeois nostalgia, Hawaiian style. Worse, it's in the old Waikiki Nei theater, where Peter had his show. He strove for authenticity when the producers wanted glitz and flash and flesh. His show was killed. Now we get this: lots of am-radio style ballads, and keiki in cellophane skirts and Carmen Miranda headdresses doing hula to Feliz Navidad, followed by a call to "bring Hawaiian culture back to Waikiki." It was total Donny and Marie. The crowd loved it. I cringed in horror. The one bright spot was Kamakaiwa Lopaka Kane'ole, who had a beautiful and powerful voice and brought a lot of needed mana to the stage.

90 minutes later, they gave us a 20" intermission, and I knew then that I was going to claim jet lag and not return. But first, to the bar of Honolulu's "dance mecca," Level 4. I get a flyer for New Years Eve, but when I ask who the dj will be I get a blank stare. They never thought to advertise that, which is a bad, bad sign. Since I feel like suffering, I order a martini. A regular martini, I stress.

Gin or vodka? the bartender asks. I suppose that's a legitimate question these days, and I give him a pass. Gin.

He pours a double shot of Hendricksfuckingville in the shaker, shakes it, and pours it into a plastic cup. Ulu asks what I ordered. I tell her I ordered a martini, but that I'm not sure what it is that he made.

We have the standard conversation. It's a martini, the fake bartender says. No, I say, it's a shot of gin. Cheap gin, I think. The bartender tells me that he hasn't put vermouth in a martini in six years. I have nothing to say. He tells me that I'm a traditionalist, and he says people used to complain that they couldn't taste the Grey Goose when he added vermouth, and I'm worse than speechless because my mouth is moving but no sound comes out. He gives me a completely made-up and inaccurate history of the martini, and adds some vermouth. I sip the "martini", and it's crap.

Did I tell you that in Buenos Aires the bartenders could make an excellent negroni without asking what goes in it? Here they can't even make a basic cocktail. How can we have fallen so far as a culture?