Wednesday, September 23, 2009

APB Loves KWM. - Being A Tale Of Travel, Whimsy, Music, Kindness and Harrowing Escapes! -

Cross-posted from LJ, FB because you HAVE to read this. Return to regular ranting against society COMING SOON.
*********************************************
Date: 20 September 2009
Place: DNA Lounge, 375 11th Street, SF CA
Event: Apoptygma Berzerk (with guests)

The challenge:
Transport one visually impaired, neuroses-ridden, angsty fan from Point A (Let's call it Berkeley-ish, East Bay) to Point B (venue, as listed above, located who-the-hell-knows-where San Francisco) in time for VIP meet and greet, sound check and acoustic session.

The History:
When faced with ambulatory requirements that do not involve someone coming to my house to pick me up, I go all hermit-y and refuse to leave the house. Clammy palms, cold sweat, shakes, hiding underneath bed, pretty much the definition of agoraphobia. When one's world shrinks without adequate understanding of how or why it's happening one tends to do the natural thing: hide.

The Outcome:
WIN and oh so much more WIN than I ever could have imagined :-)

The Story:

I almost didn't leave the house.

About four hours before I was to toddle out the door to walk the 3/4 mile to the train station I started to feel it: the rush of nervous adrenalin, the clammy palms, cold sweat, racing mind, all signs of a guy afraid to get out there. The knowledge of what these symptoms meant did nothing to deter the mind from trying to talk the host body out of walking out that door. Any excuse would do.

After showering, dressing, getting my things together I could still feel myself wanting to retreat back into hermit mode. As the time drew nigh and sensing this pattern about to achieve victory once again I picked up my phone and dialed up my daughter. I would use a phone conversation to psyche myself out of psyching myself out of going. So as I locked my front door I called Da B and she took me down one block. Then to the light. Then up the street to the next light. Then to the train station. The train station was my self-designated Point of No Return so I thanked B for her help and set about getting to the Big Scary City.

If anyone deserves credit for getting me over the mental hump, it's B.

BART is pretty self explanatory. Get on, transfer if need be, deal with screaming children, gossiping students, listen to the snores of the downtrodden, get off train at destination. This I accomplished with no real trouble. Then I realised I would need to transfer to *dundunDUNNNNNN* a Muni bus.

Muni must come from that old Latin word for "shittiest way to travel ever". No sooner do I get to the bus stop than this drunken guy stumbles onto the platform. He immediately sets to scolding a (supposedly, not like I can really see) Hispanic child, blaming him for America's troubles. The child's mother tried repeatedly to get away by moving down the platform but he followed along, spouting off in his racially and alcoholically slurred voice. When that game tired of itself he apparently set about groping every female at the stop. I only know this because said females complained bitterly to the bus driver when he showed up, demanding the lout not be let onto the bus. Once under way The Lout proclaims himself loudly to be the "King Poet of North Beach and that he is all about Love" and he "will kick your Filthy Cunt Tourist Ass" if you disagree with him. Because, you see, he is from the "Punk and Love Era" and he "doesn't shop at Nordstrom like you filthy tourists".

I myself shop online so I do not know if I am one of the filthy tourists of whom he spoke.

As he departed the bus - mercifully - he proclaimed himself 100% sober from cocaine and heroin and that he was, once again for the latecomers, the King Poet of North Beach and that we could all go piss off.

Emperor Norton would bitch-slap this dolt back to his cardboard box, for the record.

So, with some help from a fellow pedestrian I get to my destination: the DNA Lounge in beautiful "you don't wanna be here at night in this part of" San Francisco. I could hear the sounds of things being moved in and out so I was pretty sure I was in the right place. I called B to let her know I had made it after 2.5 hours of close contact with the body politic. I also let her know I thought I was in the right place but wasn't sure; I was just following the sound of heavy objects being moved around. After I got off the phone I asked the Largest Indistinct Shape in the vicinity if I was in the right place. L.I.S. said "Yes, but you know you're 4 hours early for the concert, right?" I said yes, but "I am only one hour early for the VIP event." L.I.S.: "Oh yes, that thing I didn't find out about until I got the email THIS MORNING."

L.I.S., 'twould seem, was some sort of mucky-muck high up in the DNA Lounge food chain. After about 20 minutes of waiting and listening to others pull up to the curb, move stuff in and out etc L.I.S. comes back out to bring me inside. L.I.S. has a name. It's Dave and he is a (the?) manager of the DNA Lounge.

It is at this point that I must pause the narrative. I know, it seems like a lot of build-up but you have to know, other than the fact that just to this point I had overcome a huge mental barrier to even be there the day was pretty uneventful. I expected to wait outside for the rest of the VIPs to show up and then be escorted inside for what would most likely be a scripted, organised meet and greet, industry standard, type: vanilla, 1 each.

When Manager Dave came out to bring me inside to wait I immediately ceased being a VIP and became a VVIP. My experience would start a full hour or so before the other VIPs were even allowed inside. And they had to wait, too. I asked. Knowing this, let's move on.

Manager Dave escorts me inside to a bench of some sort along the wall on the (audience) left side of the venue. He brought me water and peanuts to munch on while I was waiting. I thanked him very much and went began the "hurry up and wait" portion of the programme. I expected nothing, I asked for nothing, I was merely content to listen to the sounds of stuff being set up and sound checked.

I don't remember which one came over first. I am pretty sure it was Thom, the drummer. He was definitely the mother hen of the group. I say this in a good way. He wanted to make sure everything was ok. Thom had heard - most likely from Manager Dave - that some blind guy had made his way from across the Bay to come to this concert. So he wanted to meet the guy who was that dedicated. Thom was really cool. He replaced my water with beer and we sat down to chat. We talked about his experiences driving across America (mostly; they did a attempt to fly to a few dates with apparently disastrous results). The Chicago-to-Austin drive was especially heinous. Watching horror movies in a darkened van on lonely highways in the middle of the night = BAD THINGS MAN. He talked about the humidity and the toads in Arkansas and the fact that touring could definitely be a shit sandwich. However the moments when things went right and there was a lot of love between audience and band offset the crapaliciousness that must be defined as "touring in a van across America".

After a bit, Thom walked off and Brendan showed up. Brendan plays guitar and sings. He said he was taking over for Thom, who had to go do sound-checky stuff. Brendan got to talking with me about my eyesight and asked how I was attempting to function. I was honest; I told him I wasn't doing that well but I was slowly coming around. He shared a story with me about a family member who was not doing well and, for reasons I won't share here, could no longer see. That led to a discussion about screen readers.

(OK, I am tripping at this point. The band are interviewing ME.)

So I turned Brendan on to the screen reader JAWS and told him that for Windows it's probably the best way to go. I gave him website info and then it was Brendan's turn to get sound check completed. Jonas (keyboards and voice) sat down next to me as Brendan was leaving. He also played guitar. I talked with him mostly about the touring grind, the joys of travel by van and got impressions about his time in America (SF was the last date of a 16 city tour). Of course he had to ask how I got to the venue so I related to him stories of the joys of riding public transportation in America (complete with King Poet of North Beach reference).

Last but not least, Stephan took some time out to come over and say hi. He was the only one who asked why I didn't bring a sighted guide or a "plus one" and I ratted you all out to him. Stephan laughs at your "trendy" label, for the record. :-)

But he and the rest of the band were more amazed at what I had to go through than I expected. It's funny. In a way we were both being modest, the band and I. "It's just what I/we do."

I got the feeling that I was somewhat of an oddity to them.*

*Subsequently found out through my rehab counselor that in a lot of countries around the world, the visually impaired don't mingle as freely with the world at large. USA is unique but not alone for its attempts to equally accommodate the disabled. My own landlord told me that if I were in China - his homeland - I would be in a home for the blind, away from society.

I got a great picture of Stephan standing in front of me after we'd been introduced - I will post it of course. Stephan didn't say much but echoed his bandmates' desire to make sure I was taken care of. I got pics with each of the band members.

I need to make this clear: I expected nothing, I asked for nothing; nonetheless I got a VIP meet and greet COMPLETELY INDEPENDENT OF, AND A HALF HOUR BEFORE, THE REST OF THE VIP GROUP.

I told Thom about a really neat guy I met when I was still living in Joshua Tree. He once advised me to "face your fear and watch it disappear". I relayed this pearl of my own personally-acquired wisdom and Thom seemed floored. I was humbled. Here I am in a situation where I am talking to this great band who sell out huge venues in Europe, see thousands of people in their travels and here they are, talking to me like regular folks. Really makes a person think about what impact they have on others while others are having an impact upon you.

5 o'clock-ish rolls around (remember, hurry up and wait) and the rest of the VIPs are let into the building. they get to sit through the rest of the sound check , mill about and generally get out of the uncharacteristically warm SF afternoon sun. Passes were handed out (my very first all access pass - wee!) and we were escorted upstairs for the "real" meet and greet, autograph session and acoustic jam. I am happy to say that 2 of the VIPs were older than me - an online radio host and her husband. Sigh of relief lol! But really there was nothin' but love. There was a pair from Georgia - unclear as to whether they traveled from GA or they were local but originally from GA. The rest of the VIP contingent drove 3.5 hours from Carson City, NV for which they earned mad props from me. The SF show was the closest one to their location. Real nice group of people.

We get to the autograph signing...I got my signed drumhead (of which a only a couple were available - GO ME) and a poster which was subsequently ganked in the signing confusion - Thom, ever the mother hen, got me a new one. Got 5 of my CDs signed too. Found out my copy of Soli Deo Gloria was, in fact a bootleg from Russia. I was embarrassed but they said it happens all the time. They had apparently dealt with this outfit before. AMG. ARGH Music Group. :-)

After I got back home I sent Amazon a nastygram, accusing them of not vetting their distributors more carefully. Darn tootin' I did.

Oh by the way, Thom's inscription on the drumhead: "Face Your Fear, Watch It Disappear.So Nice Meeting You Karl!" (altho he had spelled it with a "C" at the time. The other stuff, he got it right :-)

The acoustic setup was funny. If you can picture...as described to me by Thom they had a little mini amp (I mean really mini; it was the size of a PC speaker) for Brendan's electric guitar, Jonas was on the acoustic and Thom was playing a sort of electronic glockenspiel. An old and faithful friend, the Casiotone, would provide the beat.

Stephan admitted to feeling a little emotional for this last of 16 mini-jam sessions. It had been a long tour largely in a van that I am sure got smaller by the week but it is an indication of this man's, this group's dedication to their fans that they were feeling a little sad about going back home. When Apop says they Love You, they really do. After passing out beers to everyone (they apparently love Corona) they did their acoustic version of Until The End Of The World which I loved on the Black EP. Also: In This Together, Love To Blame, Apollo (Live On Your TV). Then more autographs.

Then it was time for the group to get dressed and time for us VIPs to relax. As I noted before I got to really know the Carson City Contingent, they got me a beer.

Oh did I mention I did not pay for ANY of my drinks the entire night? And the CC Contingent informed me that informal polling had determined that I was in fact the best dressed person in the building that night. I'm still...floored at the kindness. The USA may have a bad reputation right about now, deservedly so. But on an individual level, there is still goodness here.

The rest of the night, well it seems to me anyway to be almost anticlimactic. I expected a good show. The story, for me, was the outpouring of kindness I received from the band.


* Apop are electric in concert. They have a closeness with their fans that is rare these days, IMHO. If you are reading this in Europe, GO SEE THEM NOW. If you are in the USA reading this, go to their MySpace page http://www.myspace.com/apoptygmaberzerk or their website http://www.apoptygmaberzerk.de and ask them to come back ASAP.

* I went down to the floor for about 3/4 of the concert - surrounded by my friends in the Carson City Contingent so I wouldn't get run over.

* I think but am not certain that one or more females used my cane for pole dances.

* Songs on the playlist included Apollo, Until The End of The World, In This Together, Mercy Kill, Kathy's Song, Starsign, Eclipse, Deep Red, Shadow, Unicorn, You Keep Me From Breaking Apart, DM's Somebody (by Jonas on keyboard a la Martin Gore), Love Never Dies, Bizarre Love Triangle, Shine On, Mourn(encore), Non Stop Violence (encore) - of course I can't remember them all. If I think of more I will add.


I sent Thom an email today. I was unclear on the changes in the band's lineup - whether they assembled a group just for America or whether the lineup changes were permanent. I hope he doesn't get mad at my confusion over the issue. I signed the note, "Aspire to Inspire".

Frankly speaking, I just don't do the fanboy thing anymore like I used to do. I will freely admit that I don't know as much about a band as I should before I go to see them. I might have even admitted this to the guys when were were talking before the real VIP event. I got a lot of flack back in the day for being such a DM fanboy, insisting on learning the most trivial of minutiae about their lives. Eh. That's a lot of work. I just like the music. :-)

I have been going to concerts for...a LONG time now. By far this is the best experience I have had. Ever.

THANK YOU Apoptygma Berzerk for a great night and renewing my faith in the Human Condition, just a little.

(UPDATE - O yay! DNA Lounge got back to me...they appreciated my feedback. Normally they just get complaints, which is too bad.)

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Independence Day Gift From Another World...er, Blog

I have another blog. Somewhere. The site that hosts my other blog likes to send out canned questions in case a blogger suffers from writer's block on any given day. So, I present to you Other Blog's Writer's Block question for July 4:

It's Independence Day in the U.S., celebrating the signing of the Declaration of Independence. If you were to make your own personal declaration of independence, who or what would you address it to?

My response...

Dear Militant Theocratic Teabagging Old White People:

Get your palsied, irrelevant foot off my country's throat.

Love,

An Educated Liberal Socialist (aka Your Worst Nightmare)

PS - ZOMBIE REAGAN WILL NOT SAVE YOU. God Bless.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Christmas In July

Dear Rethuglicans:

History called. Your dustbin is ready.

As if the events of the past week weren't enough of a Schadenfreude feast today We The People Who Are Not Jackbooted Fox Drones were treated to the spectacle of The Head Cheerleader herself, Ms You Betcha, Our Lady Of Wasilla, Alaska Governor Sarah Palin...quitting her job.

Just...quitting.

The usual homilies were spread thick: " want to spend more time with family"..."want to work outside the system..."

yeahyeahyeahsuresuresure as Denis Leary would say.

Hey, don't take my word for it. See the train wreck for yourself, complete with avian Greek Chorus:



This is better than than the the Ensign oopsie and the Sanford meltdown for sheer nutgripping tragicomedy. Even now the Wingnut Spin Machine is in full, er...spin mode with help from those selfsame blank-stared, jackbooted Fox Drones. A typical tweet from outer fucking space the right reads thusly:

"Hey liberals,Sarah Palin resigned because of all the crap CNN,MSNBC-CBS-ABC put her through. Even her family was hurt. Americans will wakeup" - 4JAHRASTA

Um, Rastaman, first off, not sure about this but I am reasonably sure the Wingnuts would throw your ganja-smokin ass in jail for drug possession before defending your position. I mean, blame everyone but the source of the problem much?

Oh, wait...my bad:
Alaska Governor Sarah Palin's brother called into Fox News and said he was surprised by her shocking announcement that she will resign the governorship, and he believes that at least part of her decision stems from a "non-stop negative media blitz" that was consuming her and her staff's time. - HuffPo, 3 July 2009

Huh.

Well, maybe there's a rational explanation for such a sudden and drastic turn of events:
"It's a huge gamble -- but some of her gambles have paid off in the past," he said. "If I had to bet right now, I would bet that we just heard the first opening statement in the 2012 presidential race."- William Kristol, irrelevant Cold War-era Republihack right wing pundit, to Fox News 3 July 2009

...aaaaand maybe not.

What is the lesson that Ensign, Sanford and Palin have taught us this week? When one group of people (let's call them the New Model Army GOP) inflicts their rather particular set of morals and rules upon another group (and let's call them EVERYONE ELSE)...massive, public, utter FAIL results.

Oh and lookie this, thanks to my dear friend (altho she doesn't know it yet - NO I am not stalking you. Much. LOL) Laffy at The Political Carnival:

This just in my inbox, from a source connected sometimes to CNN:

"...a criminal indictment is pending authorization."

GO NOW to The Political Carnival for detail

The Whigs died out because they couldn't adapt to new realities or accept new ideas. And thus it will be for the GOP, or at least this version of it.

Thanks for the early prezzie, Militant Theocratic Guys and Gals.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Discourse.

Now that Michael Jackson has passed I, as one of the advance guard for Generation X, can firmly and with great confidence say "I have seen a few things in my time..."

Unfortunately one of the most disturbing trends I have noticed in my brief time on this planet has been the devolution of our national discourse into a schoolyard exercise in bullying.

Obviously, application of the snark brush to political discourse is nothing new. The election of 1828 was what the old timers would call a "humdinger" what with all the intense personal attacks between Andrew Jackson and JQ Adams (and their supporters). Politics is by its very definition a very intense and emotional exercise. However that fact should not prevent or preclude any of us from participation in the great national debate du jour.

I only saw newsreels and documentaries about the Red Scare of the 1950s. To see committees arbitrarily determine the patriotism and thereby whether a person was blackballed from their profession and society in general scared the hell out of me.

The advent of television, the Internet, the 24-hour information cycle and social networking has hastened a depersonalisation of debate and created a monster of dangerous proportions that would have been even beyond McCarthy's most sinister daydreams.

And it is because of this depersonalisation of our national discorse that otherwise intelligent and educated people resort to name-calling or worse violence to make their point. Worse, insults and violence seem increasingly to be the first refuge of the minority despite ample evidence their position has been invalidated. The new paradigm of debate in this country seems now to follow the same simple all-too-predictable arc:

Insults --->Screaming, Interruption ---> Threats of Violence ---> Actual Violence

The last step in the arc plays itself out in terrifying scenarios where the Mass Media, the Talking heads and/or the Faceless Online Mob goad one another into the ultimate act of cowardice: assassination. (Yeah Bill-O and Randall Terry I'm looking at YOU)

What kind of gross power does the collective RushAnnBillSavageRandall Mob believe it wields when they demand dissent come in the form of hyperbole and outright meanness? And why do otherwise rational people instantly revert to the blank-stare-foaming-at-mouth-irrational mob mentality when one of their "heroes" commands their attention?

Sadly the disease of irrational discourse is not limited to the right in these new times. Liberals attack one another for (at turns) not being liberal enough, being too liberal, redefining liberal, not toeing the 'liberal' line 100%, playing devil's advocate, even for such small offenses as "reTweeting" other, better presented points in favour of one's own.

Knee-jerk reactionism, it would appear, knows no party loyalty.

The crazy thing about this phenomenon (and I'm looking at YOU, New Progressive America; you already OWN all the facts to win the argument, why play the Mob's game?) is that there is no need whatsoever for the interminable cycle of insult/hate/rinse/blather/repeat. None.

Intelligent discourse must be taken back from the reactionary mindset. We must go back to our Enlightenment-era forebears and lift one another up in our ability to be rational and we must for our own good tear down the Cult of Personality's stranglehold on our national debate.

Here's a good starting point:
(Source: http://www.paulnoll.com/Books/Clear-English/debate-advice.html )
  1. Avoid the use of Never.
  2. Avoid the use of Always.
  3. Refrain from saying you are wrong.
  4. You can say your idea is mistaken.
  5. Don't disagree with obvious truths.
  6. Attack the idea not the person.
  7. Use many rather than most.
  8. Avoid exaggeration.
  9. Use some rather than many.
  10. The use of often allows for exceptions.
  11. The use of generally allows for exceptions.
  1. Quote sources and numbers.
  2. If it is just an opinion, admit it.
  3. Do not present opinion as facts.
  4. Smile when disagreeing.
  5. Stress the positive.
  6. You do not need to win every battle to win the war.
  7. Concede minor or trivial points.
  8. Avoid bickering, quarreling, and wrangling.
  9. Watch your tone of voice.
  10. Don't win a debate and lose a friend.
  11. Keep your perspective - You're just debating.
...and by way of mea culpa I came to this conclusion myself after losing many right-wing friends who, while their position was illogical and indefensible, were not worth risking over our mutual game of brinksmanship.

Here's to a re-Enlightened era...

Monday, June 22, 2009

Lake Spinebegone Daze

(with HUGE apologies to Keillor, of whom I am a fan)

Well it's another day here in Lake Spinebegone, where the women are sellouts, the men are whores and public policy is for sale to the highest bidder. A beautiful day here as the strangely oversized children play their little league baseball game, strange how the children, obviously healthy and strapping children, leap so high in the air like graceful graceful gazelles grasping, catching the small white spheroids that another also strangely large child must have hit...412 feet? Are you sure? My, my but we feed these children well here in Lake Spinebegone, the land without fear, or regulation...

There's our neighbours Jon & Kate, off to another day in front of the cameras to discuss the success of family values...for which they will make more money in one day than you or I will in a year. Pity. They seemed like such nice people, such very nice people with their network-funded conspicuous consumption...

We have a commune here in the town of Lake Spinebegone...they call themselves the Coalition of the Willing ...we think they may be pagans. Or Liberals. Constantly chanting into the wee wee hours of the morning, the mild, bland, weatherless mornings here by the lake, incoherent chanting, mumbling things, things that sound oddly like paeans to gods named "Tenet" and "CHW" and "HCA" and "Kaiser"...praying, preying for their protection and guidance...

The smartest person in all of Lake Spinebegone live just down the way, Meghan is the top of her class at the exclusive boarding school...where all the grades come in prepaid packages much like a box of KrispyKreme donuts smelling like the sweet smell of fiscal desperation, but not for Meg oh no not for her, you see her education has bought her the right to ignore anything that happened before the year she was born and that's the virtue of this exclusive exclusive education that we in Lake Spinebegone give to our well heeled children citizens and future leaders...

Who else do we have - oh, here's the pastor of the Lake Spinebegone First Baptiunitaricatholteryian Full Gospel Church and Car Wash...Gecko Gingrich...shouting hosannas and Hail Ronnies and quoting the Book Of Supplyside Chapter 2 verse 13 "and lo a banker shall lead them into the promised land and lo the security will be privatised and there will be bombs and bailout money for all who make more than 250 grand a year amen..." he's a pistol, that Cardinal Gingrich. Tow of them in fact. He keeps them on his hips at all times...

And that's the news from Lake Spinebegone, where the women wear reverse mullets, the men are all supplysiders and the poor all live in Springfield...

This post brought to you by Toohey's New...*urp, mate*
Bob Cesca's Awesome Blog! Go!
The letter S - for Sellout, Singlepayer, Supply-side
The number $999,999,999

Open Letter To The President

Dear President Obama -

You're completely hosed.

It's not your fault; you knew how deep the cesspool inside the Beltway could get. Your plans for the next four years, which according to your inaugural speech included economic stabilisation efforts, healthcare reform, oil dependency reduction, education reform and more seemed ambitious. As you pointed out:

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions - who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short...[W]hat the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them - that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply.

And rationally that argument makes sense.

Where you got hosed, Mr President, is in underestimating just how deeply the special interests had gotten into Congressional pockets. Regulatory agencies designed to protect America's health (FDA), food (USDA), money (SEC) and environment (EPA) have been so gutted as to represent mere rubber stamps for Big [insert industry here]'s poisoning of our bodies, environment and ultimately our political discourse.

The second place you got completely pantsed, Mr Obama is in seemingly miscalculating how racist a country America remains 45 years after the Civil Rights Act was signed and 144 years after the cessation of hostilities was signed at Appomattox. Not a day has gone by in the past 145 days when some staffer from a GOP congressperson's office, or worse, a GOP congressperson personally, gets dinged by the media or the blogosphere for forwarding or uttering the basest, most crass form of racist garbage. In the 21st Century. It boggles the mind.

How, then to make your way out of the swap and filth of lobbyist-owned Washington DC?

I have an idea. Go over your opponents' heads. Like you did in the election. Ignore convention, appeal to the scores of citizen journalists who blog daily (and far better than I) on what your constituents -and opponents- are saying.

Let's take healthcare for a moment as this issue is in most dire need of attention. So many websites have appeared encouraging the public to make their voices heard, including
California Nurses Association http://www.guaranteedhealthcare.org/
Bob Cesca http://www.bobcesca.com/
The Political Carnival http://thepoliticalcarnival.blogspot.com/
And of course DailyKos http://dailykos.com

You need to appeal directly to the American people through the Blogosphere. See how it has transformed what would have been an unknown and unknowable situation in Iran into the story of the year if not this young century. The process of self-determination played out live despite concerted and violent effort to suppress it.

Social Media will save your efforts, Mr President. Now, I do not deny there are those out there who would, and do, use sites like Twitter as a propaganda tool. However more often than not you have an active and solidifying force at your disposal prepared for the Community-Organiser-In-Chief to make the magic happen again like we did during your campaign. Let us know that you're listening.

The Blogosphere is more than willing to go over the heads of the entrenched status quo and do an end-run around the lobbyists. No one likes to see an otherwise promising Presidency get derailed by the childish tantrums of a dying pay-for-play system.

I know I don't.