soup kitchen

December 17th, 2008

Please Add Me

Posted by patrick in facebook, guardian

Excerpt
“With friends like these..”
Tom Hodgkinson
The Guardian, Monday 14 January 2008

I despise Facebook. This enormously successful American business describes itself as “a social utility that connects you with the people around you”. But hang on. Why on God’s earth would I need a computer to connect with the people around me? Why should my relationships be mediated through the imagination of a bunch of supergeeks in California? What was wrong with the pub?

And does Facebook really connect people? Doesn’t it rather disconnect us, since instead of doing something enjoyable such as talking and eating and dancing and drinking with my facebookfriends, I am merely sending them little ungrammatical notes and amusing photos in cyberspace, while chained to my desk? A friend of mine recently told me that he had spent a Saturday night at home alone on Facebook, drinking at his desk. What a gloomy image. Far from connecting us, Facebook actually isolates us at our workstations.

Facebook appeals to a kind of vanity and self-importance in us, too. If I put up a flattering picture of myself with a list of my favourite things, I can construct an artificial representation of who I am in order to get sex or approval. (”I like Facebook,” said another friend. “I got a shag out of it.”) It also encourages a disturbing competitivness around friendship: it seems that with friends today, quality counts for nothing and quantity is king.

That’s why.
I’d still like to be your friend though.

November 5th, 2008

Good Afternoon. For my contemporary piece..

Posted by patrick in barack obama

Hello, Chicago.

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It’s the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen, by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different, that their voices could be that difference.

It’s the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled. Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been just a collection of individuals or a collection of red states and blue states.

We are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It’s the answer that led those who’ve been told for so long by so many to be cynical and fearful and doubtful about what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day. 

It’s been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this date in this election at this defining moment change has come to America.

A little bit earlier this evening, I received an extraordinarily gracious call from Sen. McCain.

Sen. McCain fought long and hard in this campaign. And he’s fought even longer and harder for the country that he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine. We are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader.

I congratulate him; I congratulate Gov. Palin for all that they’ve achieved. And I look forward to working with them to renew this nation’s promise in the months ahead.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart, and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on the train home to Delaware, the vice president-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

And I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last 16 years the rock of our family, the love of my life, the nation’s next first lady Michelle Obama.

Sasha and Malia I love you both more than you can imagine. And you have earned the new puppy that’s coming with us to the new White House.

And while she’s no longer with us, I know my grandmother’s watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight. I know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my sister Maya, my sister Alma, all my other brothers and sisters, thank you so much for all the support that you’ve given me. I am grateful to them.

And to my campaign manager, David Plouffe, the unsung hero of this campaign, who built the best — the best political campaign, I think, in the history of the United States of America.

To my chief strategist David Axelrod who’s been a partner with me every step of the way.

To the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you’ve sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to. It belongs to you. It belongs to you.

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn’t start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington. It began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston. It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give $5 and $10 and $20 to the cause.

It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation’s apathy who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep.

It drew strength from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on doors of perfect strangers, and from the millions of Americans who volunteered and organized and proved that more than two centuries later a government of the people, by the people, and for the people has not perished from the Earth.

This is your victory.

And I know you didn’t do this just to win an election. And I know you didn’t do it for me.

You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime — two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century.

Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us.

There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after the children fall asleep and wonder how they’ll make the mortgage or pay their doctors’ bills or save enough for their child’s college education.

There’s new energy to harness, new jobs to be created, new schools to build, and threats to meet, alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even in one term. But, America, I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there.

I promise you, we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won’t agree with every decision or policy I make as president. And we know the government can’t solve every problem.

But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And, above all, I will ask you to join in the work of remaking this nation, the only way it’s been done in America for 221 years — block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began 21 months ago in the depths of winter cannot end on this autumn night.

This victory alone is not the change we seek. It is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were.

It can’t happen without you, without a new spirit of service, a new spirit of sacrifice.

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism, of responsibility, where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves but each other.

Let us remember that, if this financial crisis taught us anything, it’s that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers.

In this country, we rise or fall as one nation, as one people. Let’s resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long.

Let’s remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House, a party founded on the values of self-reliance and individual liberty and national unity.

Those are values that we all share. And while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress.

As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, we are not enemies but friends. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.

And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces, to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of the world, our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand.

To those — to those who would tear the world down: We will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security: We support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright: Tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope.

That’s the true genius of America: that America can change. Our union can be perfected. What we’ve already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that’s on my mind tonight’s about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She’s a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing: Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn’t vote for two reasons — because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she’s seen throughout her century in America — the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can’t, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

At a time when women’s voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs, a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that “We Shall Overcome.” Yes we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination.

And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change.

Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves — if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment.

This is our time, to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth, that, out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.

Thank you. God bless you. And may God bless the United States of America.

October 9th, 2008

Continued Plight of the Cursed Diamond

Bob Bootleg8Bob’s new album, Tell Tale Signs: Bootleg Series Vol. 8, became available on the eighth.
As if assembling the future wasn’t hard enough.

It contains unreleased and live music spanning from 1989 to 2006 (Oh Mercy to Modern Times.)
The Limited Edition comes with a third CD that is as good as the other two.

Hightlights
CD1
“Most of the Time” (Alternate version, Oh Mercy)
“Dignity” (Piano demo, Oh Mercy)
“Dreamin’ of You” (Unreleased, Time Out Of Mind)
“Red River Shore” (Unreleased, Time Out Of Mind)
CD2
“Ring Them Bells” (Live at the Supper Club, 1993)
“Cocaine Blues” (Live, Vienna, Virginia, 1997)
“Ain’t Talkin’” (Alternate version, Modern Times)
“‘Cross The Green Mountain” (From Gods And Generals soundtrack)
CD3
“Tryin’ To Get To Heaven” (Live, London, England, 2000)
“Mary And The Soldier” (Unreleased, World Gone Wrong)

It’s not just Bob though.  It’s also his band and the producers that make this thing all the more a beguiling listening experience.
You’d have to be an automaton to keep from getting teary-eyed at Ring Them Bells.

October 2nd, 2008

Why does Pat Sajack have a website?

Posted by patrick in pat sajack

I don’t know.

But I can tell you it’s awesome!!   Click here.

I couldn’t be more excited I must say.

September 27th, 2008

Animals are people too.

Posted by patrick in cheesburger, peta, hungry blogging

No they’re not.

mmmmmmm

September 26th, 2008

Cosmic Music

If you extended your index fingers and dramatically brought them together to freeze time, then walked around the gym inspecting all the iPod playlists, you’d find mostly “work out music”: Eminem, Bad Religion, etc.  Stuff that gets your adrenaline pumping.  I’m not disparaging that music, I love that stuff.  But for some reason I do my iron-pumping withCosmic Music Cannonball Adderley and old Al Jolson radio shows in my earbuds.  I don’t know.  My wiring is muddled.
For the past three weeks it’s been 50’s and 60’s Coltrane and Miles Davis.  The mad stuff inparticular.

Cosmic Music by John Coltrane and his wife Alice Coltrane.  It’s a beautiful mess.  Sounds like lovers fighting, then immediately forking, then fighting again.  I woke up at 4am after it had induced a cartoon nightmare.  It was left on repeat and the four tracks fought with the AC all night. Lord, Help Me To Be and The Sun were recorded after John died.

September 21st, 2008

Evan the old man.

evan: i wonder what your next show will be
evan: something gay i assume

Evan making tea for chesstime:
Evan

Look closer:
Evan

September 8th, 2008

Mr. Buckets

Posted by patrick in sacramento, mr buckets

Every time I return to my apartment in Sactown, Mr. Buckets is waiting for me.  I think it’s my neighbor’s cat and I’m pretty sure it’s name isn’t Mr. Buckets but it won’t stop meowing at my door at 3am.

Meet Mr. Buckets

cat1

cat2
September 5th, 2008

Politics

Posted by patrick in Uncategorized

Liars lying about lying liars. Mendacity!
I could give a garsh darn.  In a month, when I turn the TV back on, I’ll start paying attention again.

It’s still only the first inning.  When we get to seventh inning stretch I’ll have an opinion.

BUT UNTIL THEN..!
Let’s examine an exerpt from the script of Serial Mom!

INTERIOR SUTPHIN CAR.

MISTY, CHIP and DAD listen in appalled silence to
news report on radio as MOM seems unfazed.

ANNOUNCER
...the senseless killing last
night of Towson couple, Ralph
and Betty Sterner, brings to a
total of four murders police
feel may have been committed by
Baltimore's first serial killer...

DAD looks at MOM in stunned disbelief.

DAD
Beverly!  Not the Sterners!

MOM
(Calmly)
It's a shame.  But they should
brush their teeth, honey.

ANNOUNCER
(On radio)
This just came in.  Police
Lieutenant Ronald Habbler has
publicly named a suspect in the
serial killer case and it's a
shocker!  She, that’s right, she
has been identified as Beverly R.
Sutphin of 2815 Calverton Court…

MISTY
Oh God!
(In despair)
Now I’ll never get a boyfriend!

DAD
(Nervously)
Beverly, I’ve been reading all
about it…is it menopause?

MOM
Oh, honey!

CHIP
Tell me the truth, Mom!
It’s ok with me, really!  Are
you a serial killer?

MOM
Chip, the only cereal I know
about is Rice Krispies.

Sutphin car pulls to a stop at a red light next to
car full of churchgoers.  MOM turns to smile at them
and all the churchgoers scream in horror at the
sight of her face.

DAD
(Lovingly, painfully)
Don’t worry, Beverly.  We’re
going to get you good psychiatric
help.

I love story telling.

September 3rd, 2008

Laughing Dogs and Imaginary Cat’s Cradle

Posted by patrick in review, littledog, b street, sacramento

Theater: Lots of bite in B Street’s ‘Little Dog Laughed’
By Marcus Crowder - mcrowder@sacbee.com

Patrick Alparone, left, plays a hustler and Kurt Johnson portrays a closeted actor in the B Street Theatre production of Douglas Carter Beane’s comedy “The Little Dog Laughed.”

Douglas Carter Beane’s comedy “The Little Dog Laughed” contains a flawless mix of blistering satire, beguiling characters and – dare we say it – unexpected but real heart. That last part slipping in as the riotous play has nearly departed pulls together Beane’s complementary strands of devastating Hollywood mockery and insightful relationship politics.

In the new production, which opened Sunday at the B Street Theatre’s B3 Series, the often risqué comedy delighted the audience as its characters careened from salacious barbs to hesitant honesty. Narrated by the acerbic theatrical agent Diane (Kathryn Morison) archly slicing and dicing Beane’s pointed commentary, the story unfolds from the playwright’s experiences in Hollywood.

Beane’s 1997 hit comedy of manners, “As Bees in Honey Drown,” garnered him significant interest from big film types. As comically demonstrated in “Little Dog,” they ardently suggest “improvements” for its transfer to the big screen, such as making the play’s gay main character straight and giving him a female love interest so the multiplex-bound story can resolve in a recognizable heterosexual happy ending.

Such are the suggestions Morison’s Diane “negotiates” to the unnamed, unseen playwright whose newest work could make a big star of her prized client, a handsome, rising movie star named Mitchell. And if Mitchell were a big star, Diane would be very happy and very wealthy.

Diane’s problem is that Mitchell has this problem of “recurring homosexuality.” Both Diane and Mitchell understand that his private sexual interests and their professional career goals are at odds.

Kurt Johnson’s Mitchell is a finely rendered realistic complexity. Not particularly able to admit his sexual sensibilities to himself, Mitchell cautiously, then carelessly, pursues a call service hustler whose services he has drunkenly engaged. Patrick Alparone’s Alex, a male prostitute who is equally in denial, meshes a melancholy, intelligent vulnerability with a quick, street-wise intensity. Elana Wright as Ellen, Alex’s erstwhile girlfriend, completes the play’s quartet as a brightly quipping but sadly lonely Brooklyn hipster.

When Alex pretends he hasn’t been with Mitchell, Ellen scolds him, “Alex, we don’t have friends, we are both far too snotty for that.”

The play takes place mainly in New York City through a series of interlocking monologues and overlapping scenes connected by Diane’s no-holds-barred commentary.

Director Elisabeth Nunziato’s sympathetic understanding of the script’s strengths – its invigorating irony and daring emotion – brings both elements equally into sharp focus.

It’s not hard to ridicule Hollywood, but Beane just uses that platform as starting point for a deeper, hysterically entertaining and surprising poignant look at personal values and public compromises.

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