FAMILY HERMAN PROJECT #3

Voting continues. As do the odd feelings I get.

"When you lie on your tummy, your bottom is your top."

**

"That's your organic shampoo."

**

I must confess that this project has really helped me change my mind about Dolly. Like everyone sensible, I've hated her my whole life. Bossy, too deliberately cutesy, manipulative. But in this context, she's simply hanging out on the couch sharing a casual observation about hair care. Seems happy. Meanwhile today's Herman strip with FC caption just seems like the album cover to some early-80's skate punk record. Freaks me out, man. Tough call.

FAMILY HERMAN PROJECT

Let's ride this thing out a little more. See what else it yields. Once again, taking Family Circus and Herman cartoons and switching captions. I know I'm not the first to do this but I believe it will lead to a better understanding of the human condition.

"Be very quiet, Jeffy. Grandma's tea has to sleep for three minutes."

**

"What can I say for about seven dollars?"

**

A little more meta today, don't you think? There is charm in the precocious Dolly affixing monetary value to conversation. But I'm thinking the poignant pathos of the insane old man calling the florist "Jeffy" gets my vote. Because there's just no way that guy's Grandma is still alive.

A Simple Poll

Here's something I do when I see a paper copy of The Seattle Times. I swap the captions for Herman and Family Circus and decide which one is funnier. They both, I think, are enriched in the process. So let's try it today:

"PJ likes to hear the same story over and over. When he's older he'll love rerun season."

**

"My ex-husband was up all night buying everyone drinks."

**
Now to the voting, at least until the cease and desist letters roll in.

Good News!

The apex of human comedy has been achieved. It's name is MISHEARD LYRICS - Pearl Jam - Yellow Ledbetter

PITT: Aw, they were just grooming you for Batman.

Hilarious interview with Ocean's 13 stars via Kottke

I've Never Met Tom Lennon

but I know four things about him:

1. He plays Lt. Dangle, the short-shorts wearing cop on Reno 911
2. He was a high school classmate of my beloved wife's
3. He co-wrote Night at the Museum, a movie I rented for the kids last night
4. He's sly.

In the film, a good movie by the way, Ben Stiller, as Larry, the new night watchman, is confronted by Ricky Gervais, playing his boss, Mr. McPhee. And the writers give us a little instructive bit of dialogue on the differences between Mr. Stiller and Mr. Gervais.

Mr. McPhee: Oh, haha - look at me, the comedy night guard. Do you want to get into a battle of humor? Do you?
Larry: Um, no. No I don't want to get into a battle of humor.
Mr. McPhee: That's right, because it would be a bloodbath.

It would be. And it is.

New Motto For My Alma Mater

Federal Way High School: Too Freaking Stupid to Notice a 33-year-old Narc

Yep, they're the ones who banned both An Inconvenient Truth and Huckleberry Finn, too. Honestly, it's a miracle I can even dress myself coming out of that place.

The Difference Between Playlists of KEXP and The Current

Both are contemporary music public radio stations. One's in Seattle, one's in St. Paul.

KEXP:
Song I've never heard that I like
Song I've never heard that I don't like
Song I've never heard that's okay
Song I've never heard that I like
Song I've never heard that's okay
Song I've never heard that's okay
Song I've never heard that I don't like
Song I've never heard that I don't like
Song I've never heard that I like
Modest Mouse

The Current:
Song I've never heard that I like
Song I've heard before that I like
Song I've never heard that's okay
Song I've never heard THAT I LOVE
Song I've never heard that's okay
Song I've never heard that I like
Song I've never heard that I don't like
Cool for Cats by Squeeze
Song I've never heard that I don't like
Song I've never heard that I like
Modest Mouse

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) About The Lord

(he discovers a little plastic noisemaker toy where two hands smack together, printed on one hand is "Clap Your Hands for the Lord!")

HIM: Dad, what is the Lord?
ME: God. They're talking about God.
HIM: Clap your hands for the Lord. Is it Lord Voldemort?
ME: No, it's God. Why would they make something encouraging you to clap for Lord Voldemort?
HIM: Maybe it's an evil toy.
ME: It's not an evil toy.
HIM: Is it a Sith Lord? Clap your hands for Emperor Palpatine?
ME: No! It's just God. Not everything is Star Wars or Harry Potter. It's just God.
HIM: Okay. (long pause) Maybe it's an evil god.

Hotdish On A Stick

So my recent discussion of the introductory (introductive?) powers of Midwesterners spurred some discussion about "hotdish", the Wikipedia entry of which was nicely provided by dear friend Money J Money Nine. Through that entry, I found out about Hotdish On A Stick, served at the Minnesota State Fair last year.

And, I just can't describe how I feel about it. I mean...I wrote a book...I'm a journalist...I'm actually quite good at coming up with words but Hotdish On A Stick? Nothing.

Hotdish. On A Stick. Stick. Hotdish.

Helvetica?

Helvetica! (Blogger doesn't offer Helvetica)

Clearing Up Misconceptions

I still love Seattle. It's still home.

Hello. My name is John Moe.

So I was at Caribou Coffee this morning. It's a Midwest coffee chain. And the barista was serving up drinks to customers and saying stuff like, "Here you go, Tom" and "Haven't seen you in a while, Jeff" and they were saying, "Thanks, see you later, Gail".

And I thought, wow, they all know each other! What are the odds that they are all acquainted socially outside the inherently impersonal arena of coffee service? Maybe they...grew...up together?...? But then I realized that no, they had just introduced themselves properly at some point. People do that here. They have names and use them. That doesn't always happen in my native Northwest.

A couple of weeks ago, we were at a school picnic and my (Midwestern) wife introduced herself to a table full of people where Charlie (age 6) was sitting with a friend. "Hi, I'm Jill Moe," she said, "I'm Charlie and Kate's mom." Some of them smiled and said, like, "Oh."

And that was it. What's. Your. Name. ?. It's not hard, folks. I've heard similar complaints about LA. Your parents worked hard to give you that name. Use it.


Update: I refer to eating casserole in the comments. But Midwesterners have told me, politely of course and by name, that it's called "hotdish" over there. Glad I didn't even attempt the whole pop/soda thing.

Why I'm in St. Paul

For someone who makes his living doing public stuff, I realize that I don't do much self promotion on this site. The book, yes, but not much else. I think it's a combination of not wanting to come off as a self-aggrandizing jerk and also just wanting to have a place where it's not about editors and engineers and publishers and what readers/listeners/fans think.

Anyway, this week is kind of interesting. I'm hosting Weekend America all by myself this weekend. I've co-hosted it a bunch before but this is kind of a unique thing. Not that I've bound Bill Radke up in duct tape and put him in a storage locker, which I certainly have NOT, especially not in locker 5B at Fred's U-Storage near the Los Angeles airport. But it's just me this week and if you'd like to besiege American Public Media demanding I get a weekly four hour program and an 800% pay increase, well, I'm powerless to stop you.

The show can be heard here as of Saturday.

I am in St. Paul

Not the actual saint, just the Minnesota city named after him. Here's what St. Paul has:

- Big metal statues of Peanuts characters (Charles Schulz was born here, would have been cooler if he wasn't and they just decided to put them up)
- Palatial Minnesota Public Radio studios that make all other public radio facilities look like shelters for 19th century cannery workers
- Animatronic 90-foot tall Garrison Keillor that smashes cars at random
- A great radio station, The Current, which is a lot like Seattle's KEXP except I occasionally know one of the bands being played on The Current
- Lakes! Lakes! Lakes!
- Lightning!
- My heart.

We Have a Winner for Political Quote of the Year

Thanks for your entries, everyone, but John Boehner takes the prize with:

"I promised the President today that I wouldn't say anything bad about ... this piece of shit bill"

New Games Designed by Kate (Age 4) Based On Songs She Has No Business Listening To But Loves All the Same

1. "Wolfmother"
Based on the song Dimension, one of the players hides, then, when the other players come to seek, everyone screams just like they do in the song. Repeat.

2. "I Think I Smell A Rat"
Based on the song by the White Stripes, one person hides and is "the rat". Then one other person, or possibly more, looks for them while saying "I think I smell a rat!". Then the rat jumps out. Repeat.

I Don't Want to Show This to My Good Friend Sean Nelson






Lip Dub - Flagpole Sitta by Harvey Danger from amandalynferri on Vimeo

He doesn't need to know that his most #1-est song has been taken over by the cast of, apparently, a Fox drama about post-collegiate life.

Music Pick Wednesday!

I think this new Modest Mouse record just gets better every time I listen. I don't know why lead singer Isaac Brock decided to mostly sing like a combination of Tom Waits and Cookie Monster on a fistful of amphetamines, but I like it! They have Johnny Marr in the band now, the old guitarist for The Smiths. Who'd have thought a bunch of dudes from Issaquah would have the guy from The Smiths in their band.

Am I Notable?

I am not. At least according to this cool index of famousesque Seattle folk.

Proposed cover of paperback edition of (did I mention I wrote a) book

I like it!

Rules for Rock, Paper, Scissors as Established by Charlie (age 6)

Rock crushes scissors
Scissors cut paper
Paper covers rock but it really ought not to
Cake gets cut by scissors
Rock crushes cake
Cake stains paper
Blue whale swallows rock, scissors, and paper
Missile does not hurt blue whale because there are no missiles in this game
Jupiter obliterates blue whale
Salad loses to everything and wait there is no salad in this game either
Black holes don't count

The Old Negro Space Program

Rented For Your Consideration this week. Okay movie. I dug around on the iMDB page of it and ran across this short. It tells the story, in faux Ken Burns style, of the Old Negro Space Program. Full movie below, ten minutes but well worth your time.

3 out of 10

Tonight is Bon Jovi Night on American Idol

Other nights I would really like to see on American Idol:

Rammstein Night
Kate Bush Night
Beat Happening Night
Throat Singing Night
Gregorian Chant Night
Itsy-Bitsy Spider Night
Just Fucking Screaming As Loud As You Can Night
Kraftwerk Night
Wagner Night
Jack Wagner Night
Rick Springfield Night (Jesse's Girl not allowed)
Whistling Night
John Cage 4:33 Night

Aziz Is My Hero

For your viewing pleasure...

A long stream of David Caruso lines from the best unintentional comedy series on television: CSI Miami.

Two Things About Songs

1. Neil Young's Words (Between the Lines of Age) is freakin' awesome.

2. A couple of weeks ago I went to the Long Winters' show at the Showbox. The set closed with a cover of Feelin' Stronger Everyday. Horns and everything. If anyone has a recording of the Long Winters version, they should first listen to it and then make it available to the whole wide world. John Roderick is a beautiful man.

I Have Some Words For You:

If you are fighting the disease of depression, or even if you think you might be and you aren't sure, go get some help. Talk to a doctor. Take it very seriously. Don't just assume it will go away. And if you know someone who is fighting this, encourage them to get help also. Do it today.

On April 4th, my brother Rick lost his fight with this disease and he took his own life. The past few weeks have been hell, of course. As I write this, I've returned from his service in San Diego. I really didn't think I would write about Rick's death on this blog since that's not generally the kind of thing I do here. But it is with great resolve and all the strength I have remaining that I pledge that some hope must emerge from the wreckage of his passing. The hope is this: someone will get help, someone will find a path to better tomorrows, someone's family and friends won't go through what we've all been through.

Here was what ran in the paper. But what I'm writing here is not an obituary since this isn't the place. I offer only a plea: get help. Mental health issues are tricky because the thing that's wrong isn't as obvious as when there's a physical injury and there's still an unfortunate social stigma attached to them. Get help anyway. Just get some help. I'm leaving comments open but I really don't need any condolences. Honestly. But if you have some thoughts on leading yourself or others toward hope, please share.

Monsters of Metal Detection

Bill Wyman's post-Stones career offers this for anyone who demands their beach combing devices be approved by 97-year-old bass players.

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) About Sports

(Setting: in the car, listening as always to Movin 92.5, music to make you feel good. Justin Timberlake's "SexyBack" is playing. The chorus features the incessantly repeated line "Go ahead, be gone with it" but with all the engineering and funkification it sounds like "Go hippy go".)

HIM: What does she mean, "Go hippy go"?
ME: He.
HIM: He. That's a man?
ME: Yeah.
HIM: What does it mean about "Go hippy go"?
ME: Well, do you know what a hippy is? Like long haired guys, they wear a lot of brown, say "man" a lot?
HIM: Yeah, I think so.
ME: Well, people used to race them. They'd put numbers on their backs and line them up at a starting line on a race track and then see how fast the hippies would run and which hippy would come in first.
HIM: Really?
ME: And you could place bets depending on which hippy you thought would be fastest. So in the song Justin Timberlake is perhaps recalling some old hippy races he attended as a boy, the practice faded out in the early 90's due to some lawsuits resulting from injuries, and he's remembering how he used to cheer for his favorite racing hippies.
HIM: Hm. Cool.

Big Comeback Planned

I'm going to be all Elvis '68 y'all. Not sure why I've been so out of touch. Might have something to do with Charlie (age 6) reaching the point in his maturity where perhaps quoting him online all the time is somewhat discourteous. Or not. Might be the new job.
Might be the tense negotiations with Kate (age 4)
HER: Dad, can I have a guinea pig?
ME: No.
HER: Can I have one when I'm five?
ME: No.
HER: When can I have one?
ME: When you're 33, I'll buy you a guinea pig.
HER: Alright.

But I do plan to ramp up posting soon.

Meantime, I'll be in the bushes, controlling things with my mind.

Twitter plus Google Maps...

= me staring slack jawed at the world we have wrought.

Oh My.

I'm working on a story this week about anti-drug PSAs. And I found this one. It features LaToya Jackson, Nancy Reagan, Patrick Swayze, Boogaloo Shrimp, Tootie, and scary living posters of David Hasselhoff and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.

It's called "Stop the Madness". But the madness is just beginning.

Rocky Roll!

Come on down to the Seattle Drum School's LAB (Little Auditorium in the Back...12510 15th Ave NE in Seattle) tonight and enjoy some good old fashioned Birthday Party music with your old friends Chicken Starship! It's Paige Chicken's birthday (she's Scott Chicken's wife) and all she wanted for her birthday was a concert with her two favorite bands, us and the Sacred Truths. And for once her husband didn't let her down!

The show starts at 7...there was supposed to be a third band on the bill, but they have since bailed. The Drum School is trying to round up a replacement, but it's quite possible that they won't be able to. In which case the show will still start at 7, with the Truths getting the joint jumping. We will then hop on stage some time around 8 and shut down the joint.

Tickets are $5 at the door. It's all-ages, so no booze, but we will have various liquid refreshments available for a minor donation, and plenty of free birthday cake. So come help Paige Chicken whoop it up!


Chicken Starship
www.chickenstarship.com
www.myspace.com/chickenstarship

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) About Love

ME: So who was that girl at soccer practice?
HIM: Oh, that was (x).
ME: She seems to really, ah, like you.
HIM: She loves me! And whenever it's time to pick partners she just grabs me!
ME: Yeah, I noti--
HIM: And kisses me! She just loves me so much! She loves me so much that I just have to love her too. She kind of made me love her by loving me so much.
ME: Well, that'll happen sometimes.
HIM: It's like she wants to marry me but I'm just a kid!

Soul of Starbucks

By now, you've heard all about this memo Howard Schultz sent around about Starbucks losing its soul. I'm doing a story on it for this weekend's show. Going to a Starbucks with a pastor and a soul singer to talk about the idea of soul. On Seattlest, I found this clip:



and sent it to my editor in LA. His response after watching it: "I'm going to punch you the next time I see you."

Kate (Age 4) and Charlie (Age 6) try to make sense of Ozzy's bat eating, John Bonham's death, and the overall behavior of Motley Crue

Fortunately, the lead singers of Skid Row and Quiet Riot provide counsel. Here. I don't ordinarily plug my own stories, mostly cause there's too many of them. But I really love this story a lot.

Where the hell have I been?

Yeah, you see this is what happens when you start a new job. So I've been out of KUOW for a month now and working on Weekend America. I've been down to LA five times in the past six weeks, burning through one season of The Wire on DVD and almost two seasons of 24. I've hosted that show (Weekend America, not 24) three times. Meanwhile I've been trying to learn a new sound editing program and on top of that finding a new workspace (I am the Seattle bureau of the show), renting it, furnishing it, getting internet and phone hooked up, and trying to remember to occasionally shower and shave. So updates have been sparse on this blog. Sorry. Fans of Charlie and Kate will hear them on this weekend's show on a story I've been doing about how to teach your kids about heavy metal. I interviewed Kevin DuBrow of Quiet Riot and Sebastian Bach from Skid Row. And Charlie and Kate. Also had an interesting chat with Charlie about the ethnicity of Santa and Jesus which I'll post later.

Oh! And I'm officially going to be on a Starbucks cup. 5 million of them, actually, where my quotation will be covered by a cardboard sleeve and then the cup tossed without a thought. Coming in the fall just in time for the paperback. Have I mentioned I wrote a book?

Holy God do I miss college sometimes

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) About Artistic Intent

HIM: Dad, when they sing "You Got Another Thing Comin'", I think I know what they're talking about.
ME: Who? Judas Priest?
HIM: Yeah. It's Star Wars.
ME: How do you figure?
HIM: What?
ME: What do you mean?
HIM: I think it's about Luke. He blew up the Death Star but he's got more bad guys coming. He's got more empire stuff and the emperor.
ME: Out there is a fortune waiting to be had. Maybe that fortune is peace across the galaxy.
HIM: Yeeeeeah.

Goldilocks and the Three Bears (by Charlie, Age 6, part three of a three-part series)

Author's note: for older kids over the age when Goldilocks runs away from the three bears. In this one they eat her.

Once there was a little girl named Goldilocks.
Her house was horrible!
The roof wasn't on right and it let all the air blow in.
It didn't have anything, just walls and a window.

One day after school Goldilocks went outside to play.

After she got out of school, she saw some construction workers making her house better than before. Thye put furniture in and everything.

She walked and walked in the forest until she came to a cabin. It was so cool. She walked inside.

She found three balls of deer meat and there was cups of deer blood. And a decoration of deer horns. Suddenly the three bears stormed in.

They quickly divided her into six pieces and ate her all up.

"For Christmas, I wished for a bunch more Goldilocks," the bears said.

The End!
Burp!

If only presidential elections were this meta

So I'm in this tournament of blogs, right? Innocent fun. It turns out Not Martha, my opponent, posted something on her blog about wanting people to vote in the competition and especially urging them to vote for me. Obviously, people started voting in droves...for her.

I'm past the point of keeping up with this contest in terms of intent or even understanding what victory would mean.

Kate (Age 4) Employs the Schizophrenia Defense

ME: Kate, I found an empty box of Christmas chocolates and wrappers all over your bedroom floor. Did you eat them?
HER:...uh...well...daddy...the care bears wanted me to eat them...
ME: The Care Bears?
HER:...it was...um...Lock Bear and Sunshine Bear's birthday...and they had a party...and Lock Bear turned...twenty six...and Sunshine Bear...is... twenty eleven...
ME: So why did they want you to eat candy?
HER: ...they can't eat and they want me to be happy...

Badness Continues

After years of opposing "Martha", I finally get a new challenger.

Barack Obama might talk a good game but can he build a flying saucer?

Been doing some research today on candidates that are further down the list. This guy is a real actual declared candidate for President, filed the papers and everything, Democrat:

I am President Warren Roderick Ashe. I was born in Whitakers, North Carolina on January 20th, 1957. I am married with 5 children, Alexander, Maurice, Apollo, Vermond, and Nikki. Alex and Maurice are now in college. My wife Corether and I live in Newsome Park community in Newport News.
I am the United States President Auxiliary since 1981. I am also the Founder, Owner, President of my company Jyperonix Astrophysics. Which is a Fortune 500 company at the top of the list. I am involved with time travel communications that are real. And capable of time travel contact throughout history itself.
The transmissions involves White House, Congress, Air Force, department of FCC, and the DOD-SBIR/STTR program for submission proposals. I also build flying saucers that are capable of going to another solar system at high warp speed.
I started this program of time travel communications in the Ronald Reagan administration in 1981. The time travel transmissions have communicated at least and no less than 500 years into the future. I have used my saucers built by hand at Edgecombe Community College in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. That has already since 1983 taken sperm and DNA into the future. Into the 22nd, 23rd, and 24th centuries. The methods I used are through flux capacitation and wormhole technology.

Can You Feel the Badness?

Then it must be Blarch! (apparently there is voting going on)

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6)

HIM: Dad, what are zombies?
ME: Well, zombies are these made up creatures and they're supposed to be dead people who come back to life and they walk around trying to eat brains.
HIM: Yeah. We play zombie tag at school sometimes.
ME: How does that work?
HIM: Well one person is it and they're a zombie and if they catch you you're a zombie.
ME: But aren't they always slow?
HIM: Yeah. It's hard for the zombie.
ME: It always is.
HIM: So zombies are just pretend monsters?
ME: Yep. They're make believe people who die and then come back to life.
HIM: SO JESUS WAS A ZOMBIE?!
ME: What? Uh...
HIM: He died and came back to life! DID JESUS EAT BRAINS, DAD?!
ME: Well...
JILL: It does sound a lot like what you said about Jesus, except for the brains part.
ME: Well...uh...
HIM: I'm just kidding, Dad. I'm pretty sure Jesus was just made up.

Goldilocks and the Three Tigers (by Charlie, Age 6, part two of a three-part series)

Once there was a little girl named Goldilocks. Her house was so boring so she went for a walk out in the woods. There was not many trees in the forest so she thought it would be safe.

It was very dark in teh forest. She was frightened.

She came to a cottage. It was very fancy. She walked inside.

Goldilocks found three bowls of meat. When she was about to eat them three tigers walked in.

They quickly divided her into seven pieces. And they ate her all up.

The end.

(coming soon: the final story, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, which, I am advised, is for older kids)

Goldilocks and the 3 Lions by Charlie (age 6) (part one of a series)

Once there was a little girl named Goldilocks. Her house only had one thing: a fireplace that only lit up for one second. It was very boring.

She walked and walked until she got to Africa. She found two of the biggest trees to rest under. She rested for hours and hours.

She found herself on a table on a plate. She had a feeling she was being watched.

She was being watched by 3 lions. It was very frightening. The rope was so tight she couldn't even move a millimeter.

They quickly divided her into 11 pieces and put them on the the table and ate her all up.

The end! (gulp!)


Coming soon: Goldilocks and the 3 Tigers!

How You Know When You Took The Right Job

So I start Monday at my new job. I was down in Los Angeles on Monday for a meeting and saw the big board of possible stories. One of them was "Van Halen 3rd Singer".
"You're interviewing Gary Cherone?!" I asked.
"We want to," my new boss told me.
I've come to the right place.

I'm On The Radio!

Yeah, I know but this is slightly different. If you missed any of my readings for the book I wrote (did I mention I wrote a book?), you can hear the Elliott Bay reading tonight at 10 on KUOW here in Seattle. Or on kuow.org on the Interwebs. I'll post a permalink for it when I get one. I've had nothing to do with the editing aside from providing the weird picture posted here.

ZUNE PHONE!!!



Regarding the Apple iPhone or Apple Phone or, as I've now seen it described, the Jesus Phone or J-Phone: yeah, I'm in. I'm so in. I. Am. In. And it sucks to be a Zune right about now.

A Conversation About Music with Charlie (age 6)

(we're in a pickup truck, waiting our turn to drop off a load at the dump and we're listening to "Superman" by R.E.M.)

HIM: This song is about freedom.
ME: What? It is?
HIM: Yeah. Well, he says "I am, I am, I am Superman and I can do anything". It's about being free.
ME: Oh. Yeah. I guess it is.

I had always thought it was about Superman. Charlie spent the rest of the day singing the song but changed the lyrics to "Pooperman" because it's funnier that way.

I'm in Spin

I keep forgetting to say something about that. The Pop Song Correspondences are things that Spin says they love. I don't think it's in the online edition. You have to find a copy of Spin, then open it, then find the page that I'm on and...oh just forget it.

Arrested Development gone

but Michael Cera doing just fine.

Big Change

Well, for me anyway. I guess I always knew I was a woman but now with surgery...

No.

I've decided to leave "some radio station where I work" for a new position as Senior Reporter and back up host at Weekend America. I'll still be based in Seattle. We're not moving. The new job is going to be a fantastic opportunity but not altogether brand new since I've been working on that show for the past few years. Still, it's going to be hard to leave some radio station where I work (okay, KUOW!, there! I said it!), which has been a great place to be for the past five years.

Update: Media pounces!

A Question About Being Employed at Uptown Espresso

When you're a young woman and you come to work at Uptown Espresso, is it a requirement that your boyfriend is forever parked at one of the tables and must give you frequent backrubs?

Because that's how it seems to work. For many, many of you.

(Also, and this has nothing whatsoever to do with Uptown Espresso or boyfriends or backrubs, I'm about to announce something fairly significant in my own life, probably some time tomorrow)

How to Cook a Turkey, by Charlie (Age 6)

(This was for a class assignment)

1. Find a turkey. Kill it, of course.
2. Cook at 100 or 110 degrees for an hour and two minutes.
3. Add salt.
4. Make all the bones stick out.
5. Eat it!

CRITICAL RECEPTION TO LATER BOOKS BY THE IRAQ STUDY GROUP

The Way Forward Is Over Here. Seriously. (2007)

One can't blame the ISG for trying to recapture the magic- and sales – of their debut work so it's not surprising that this volume covers territory familiar to readers. Truth be told, it's the exact same book but with a flashing LED read-out cover, several small horns attached to it that sound whenever movement is detected in the room, numerous pre-attached post-it notes indicating the most urgent passages, and a free video game where you get to be a baseball playing robot. It is hoped that the president will notice this new edition and read it.


Sitcoms: The Way Forward – A New Approach (2008)

After seeing strong sales but disappointing real world results from their previous works, the Iraq Study Group takes on the perilous state of the American situation comedy. Beset with the ongoing and worsening threats of reality shows, medical dramas, and a deadly new strain of reality medical drama, the state of the sitcom is bad and worsening. The group's ideas are sometimes distressingly meek (hold summit conferences with networks, invite Michael Bay to the bargaining table) and sometimes baldly self-serving (cast Lawrence Eagleburger as a wacky neighbor on "Coach: The Next Generation", create sitcom called "What About Vernon Jordan?"). Taxpayers are right to wonder if their tax dollars have been well spent.


Tampa Bay Devil Rays: The Way Forward – A New Approach (2010)

While it's very possible that Sandra Day O'Connor's grandson is a fine baseball player, the Iraq Study Group seems to be losing focus this time out. Ed Meese's knowledge of minor league economics is strong as is Leon Panetta's lengthy chapter on proper bunting technique and both offer hope to fans of the beleaguered franchise. But the overall tone of the report is bleak. The no longer publicly funded group suggests stemming the flow of bats, balls, and other equipment into the Tampa-St. Petersburg area while simultaneously launching a series of phased trades to disperse players. The group also seems to fail to take into account the possibility of Tampa native and strongman Jose Canseco regaining power. The photo section of Eagleburger shagging fly balls feels tacked on and is in fact difficult to look at.


Are You There God? It's Me, Lawrence Eagleburger (2011)

The rest of the group still includes their names but there's only one member truly behind this atrocious coming-of-age story. The fact that the "woman's special time" section was not removed in editing is proof that there is no God.


The Iraq Study Group Report on the Iraq Study Group: A New Way Forward (2012)

After widely reported acrimony between members of the once close-kit group and ill-advised offshoot projects (Charles Robb's emo-core concept album, Allan Simpson's backyard wrestling league), the ISG has found itself at a crossroads. Should they disband or try to keep the team together? Sadly, they chose the latter. Meeting in a trailer specially airlifted to the featureless great plain where Iraq once stood, the members crafted a series of recommendations for how the group can continue making recommendations. But their string of critical and commercial failures, the advancing age and declining health of the members, and their lack of government funding leading to abject poverty, make for a tough ride on the road to new ideas. The matching jumpsuits sound like fun and everyone loves trust walks but where will the money come from for the underwater fortress and the rocket bikes? Sadly, these ravings are proof enough to anyone still doubting that the ISG's time has passed.


Iraq Study Group Babies: Journey to Lollipop Island (2017)

Everyone's favorite group of adorable pint-sized future-ex-government insiders are on a magical journey to help a lost candy bird find her way back home. Based on the #1 animated series in the world, this is sure to delight toddlers, preschoolers, and select members of the Project for a New American Century and the Brookings Institution. Will Sandy, Jimmy, Lee H. Hamilton and the rest of the gang get the bird home before deadly sectarian violence rips Lollipop Island apart? Read and find out!

It's funny until you get to the squirrel picture...

then it becomes transcendant.

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) About Politics

HIM: Why is 4th of July a big deal?
ME: That's when people signed the Declaration of Independence. It was this thing they wrote that said America was its own country, separate from England.
HIM: And that's when George Washington became President?
ME: Shortly after that, yeah. But they wanted to make him king and he said no, I'll be president because we shouldn't have kings. That way when people want a new president, they can elect one every four years.
HIM: Bush shouldn't have been elected again. Or even the first time. He starts wars!
ME: Well a lot of people agree with you, Charlie.
HIM: Why does he do that?
ME: I think he's very confident in the decisions he makes and often doesn't listen to people who try to tell him he's wrong.
HIM: Yeah. His brain is all zig-zag and wobbly. Barack Obama will be better when he's president.
ME: You mean if he's president.
HIM: Oh come on, Dad. He's going to be president. People are sick of all the light-skinned men, they want a girl or a dark skinned man.

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) About Christmas

HIM: Dad, who is Santa's Dad?
ME: Wow. I don't know. I never thought about it.
HIM: I think I know. Jesus.
ME: Really? Why?
HIM: Well...just think about it.

The Other Night at Elliott Bay

The book tour for Conservatize Me pretty much wrapped up on 12/12 at the Elliott Bay Book Company in downtown Seattle (well, Pioneer Square, which is quasi-downtown). It was a wonderful way to wrap things up, at least mostly, at least until the paperback, with a couple of small exceptions.

Matthew Baldwin led off the evening reading things from the estimable Defective Yeti blog he maintains. It's unorthodox for readings to have an opening act but I asked him to read for two reasons: 1) he's oh so funny and should receive a much bigger audience and b of all, it made the event feel more festive, like a celebration of words and jokes and things like that.

I read mostly the same passages I usually do but the crowd, quite enormous (I mean in numbers, they weren't obese), was vocal and happy and energizing. Best of all, for me anyway, was the appearance of my family. Jill and the kids sat in the back row and except for occasional bouts of wiggliness, listened. When I opened the floor to questions, Charlie had the first one. It was funny because readers of my work know that he's kind of my muse and a hush went over the room when he spoke. Afterwards, with no real provocation to do so, he walked to the front of the room and took a bow. Later, he signed some books. I would do my studied, rehearsed author signature with a black Sharpie (fine point) and he would follow with a huge CHARLIE in purple marker. I felt like I was doing a joint appearance with a Star Wars obsessed 6-year-old J.D. Salinger.

Point / Counterpoint

Criticism is part of the deal when you write a book. Recently someone posted on their LiveJournal this assessment of my efforts:

"Wow, this was bad. Moe's writing style, you know, is like full of verbal, you know, tics. Um, yeah. Like, hard to, you know, read? That's not counting the overwhelming condescension he walks into every situation radiating. The bits worth reading are where Moe interviews Rich Lowry and Jonah Goldberg and some of the other bright conservative lights and realizes that they've thought their way into their positions. But mostly, it's full of cheap shots and knee-jerk silliness. This book too could have been great and isn't even close."

Their friend, or cyberfriend, or electrofriend or whatever, said this:

"I heard Moe speak at the Texas Book Festival (on a panel with David Rakoff, who was who I went to see). I thought he was hysterical, but I can see how a book of his could be annoying, since it sounds like he writes much as he speaks. Which is rarely a good thing. Guess I can cross that book off my "to read" list--thanks!"

To which I replied this:

"No. In person, I'm a complete boor. A total disappointment. You think you're going to like me but I just let you down. You become sorry you ever spent the money to be with me. Sure, I might be to some people's tastes but man, you just won't get it. Save your money and just hang out with David Sedaris instead. He's always reliable.

jm"

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) Where the Mystery is Solved

HIM: Dad, women have nipples to feed babies.
ME: Right.
HIM: And do you know why men have nipples?
ME: No. Nobody seems to know the answer to that one.
HIM: I think I know. It's for doing oogas.
ME: Doing...?
HIM: Oogas. Like gorillas beating their chests or Tarzan when he beats his chest and yells. It makes those sound louder.
ME: Men's nipples are drums?
HIM: Well, I think so.

Look at the defcon house! Look at the defcon house!

It's a new blog (thank goodness! new blogs!) by Jeannie Yandel and Aaron Jeannie Yandel's Boyfriend. Jeannie is the former bass player for Sleater-Yandel, a band that went on to bigger things and a name change after she left. But not really.

It's much better than some other new blogs.

Final Reading of Conservatize Me

Happens tomorrow night (12/12) at the esteemed Elliott Bay Book Company at 7:30. This is it. No more readings. Unless you're in Walla Walla in January. But otherwise: your last chance. Until the paperback comes out in the fall. But really: step up. Opening act will be the dangerously funny Matthew Baldwin of Defective Yeti fame. Seattlest.com promises that we will be "creating a vortex of funny that will swallow Seattle whole." And that is true.
Makes a great gift!
Did I mention I wrote a book?

Merry Christmas, kids! We got you Irony!



Now for sale!

Television!

Watchers of television programs will be able to see me on one of those programs tonight. I'll be appearing, probably for like three minutes, on the Glenn Beck show on CNN Headline News. It airs on the west coast at 4pm, 6pm, and 9pm. If you're in other time zones, hey, what am I a mathemagician? If anyone ends up YouTubing it, lemme know.

69 Photos of Children Terrified of Santa



Ho ho ho! Here they are!

Thanks Posse!

Sincere love and gratitude to all who responded to my little...ah... emotional collapse a few days ago there. Feeling better now. More resolute. The laughing baby video is a much better reflection of state of mind.

What's so funny? The fact that I'm a baby!



(via Kottke)

How an interview ought to be

I've always loved Tom Waits a whole lot. I once paid $500 for a pair of tickets to see him in concert and would do so again in a heartbeat. He was on Letterman last night, one of the few places he's ever interviewed, and just killed. "Most of them are hit by cars while dining".

I haven't blogged much lately...

mostly because I'm just sick of myself. And I'm a little sick of this whole self-promotional machine that I built or at least piloted for the book. I'm sick of thinking worse of myself when my Amazon ranking goes down and I'm sick of thinking better of myself when it goes back up again.

I'm sick of some blogger making me feel like crap (calling me a "disembodied voice", no god damn it I am a human being with a body and a voice, thanks) and making me forget about the legit book reviewers who said good things about the book and the cool MySpace comments from random teenagers who latched on to the book.

I'm sick of people leaving comments on this, my more or less personal blog, ripping into me about the method in which I chose to write a damn book. I delete those comments, and that might be against the code of blogging or whatever but screw it, I don't care, I'll do whatever I please, but honestly, what possesses people to say nasty things about someone while commenting on their blog? I mean, have we fallen so far that we simply cannot be civil?

I'm sick of the acrimony of politics and people who feel like I should be a receptacle of that acrimony just because I wrote a book about my own experiences. At this thing I did the other night, I was supposed to be "playing the part" of a conservative at this completely liberal-packed event and the guy I was supposed to be arguing against got to be himself and just say really mean horrible things. That was the schtick, I understand that, but geez, I was the Guy Fawkes statue at their post-election celebration.

I'll try to update this thing as events warrant or when my kids say weird crap. But Christ, even though I don't have a scrap of the writing chops of Thomas Pynchon, I understand why he's just said Screw it, all you people. I understand why Douglas Brinkley doesn't own a computer or why Daniel Schorr types on a typewriter.

There were some other fairly intense things going down at the same time as the book launched as alert readers know and maybe now I'm just decompressing but I almost feel like I got a case of the bends. Not to worry, I'll be back to relentlessly publicizing myself soon I'm sure. I mean, boo-hoo, right? The poor guy gets to write a book and tour the country supporting it and we're supposed to feel sorry for him? No, you're not. But it feels like living on a stage. A stage I walked on to willingly.

I'll probably delete this post later.

Everybody Everybody!

Seattle Follies: The Brawl at Town Hall
Thursday, November 16, 7:30 pm


Seattle City Councilmember Sally Clark hosts the post-election edition of Seattle Follies. Joining her, and providing slashing and trenchant commentary on who really won and lost in the vote are blogger and humorist David Goldstein of horsesass.org, speaking from the left, and John Moe, public radio personality and author of the recently published book, Conservatize Me, promoting the view from the right. “The Brawl at Town Hall” will feature these two in a verbal boxing match with timed rounds, refereed by Ms. Clark. Councilmember Richard Conlin, former chair of the Council’s transportation committee and a champion of mass transit and sustainable neighborhoods, offers his tongue-in-cheek alternatives to the current and controversial proposals for the new 520 bridge. Musical guests are the great Irish musicians Dale Russ and Finn MacGinty, and Rob Jones tickles the ivories all night long. As always, the audience plays, “Who Said What,” the currents events game with chocolate prizes for the winners. Beer and wine available. Downstairs at Town Hall, enter on Seneca Street.
Advance tickets are $12/$10 Town Hall members, seniors & students only at www.brownpapertickets.com or 1800/838-3006. $15/$13 at the door.

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 6) About Television

HIM: Dad, I don't like a lot of the shows that Kate likes.
ME: Well, you're older and you're a boy and you just have different tastes.
HIM: I like grown-up shows. I like to watch them with Mom.
ME: Like Oprah?
HIM: Yeah, I like Oprah. And all the grown-up shows with people arguing. So I'm kind of a weird kid, huh?
ME: I don't think you're a weird kid.
HIM: I do.
ME: You have some weird tastes but that doesn't make you a weird kid.
HIM: Well, I think it does.

We agree to disagree on that one. But the occasion of his birthday today makes me reflect on various things written about him as I've slowly and methodically exploited his childhood.

REAL AND IMAGINED THINGS MY 3-MONTH-OLD SON CHARLIE HAS SAID (McSweeney's)

WHAT I FOUND IN MY TWO-YEAR-OLD SON'S PLAYROOM (McSweeney's)



Conversation At The Toy Store Between Myself And My Son Charlie (Almost Three)


A Conversation With Charlie (Age 3) In The Car Last Night (Joined Midway Through)

A Conversation With Charlie, Age 4

The Imminent Threat of Chickens

The Home Improvement Plan

A Brief Conversation with Charlie (Age 4) About Future Plans

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 5) and Kate (Age 3) About Responsibilities

Jokes Written by Charlie (Age 5) That Indicate Either a Lack of Understanding About What Jokes Are, or an Absolute Mastery of the Medium

You May Wish to Avoid Charlie (Age 5) on April 1st

Action Boys

Happy birthday Charlie.

A Conversation Between Kate (Age 4) and Charlie (Age 6) Concerning The Location of Their Mother

HER: Charlie, where's Mom?
HIM: She's in your brain.
HER: WHAT?!
HIM: She's in your brain, Kate. Mom is insiiiiiiiiide your brain.
HER: No!
HIM: Yes!
HER: No, she's not! Mom isn't inside my brain!
HIM: It's true.
HER: DAD! CHARLIE SAYS MOM IS INSIDE MY BRAIN!
ME: I'm going to let you guys work this one out on your own.

Article about Conservatize Me up on Newsweek

Complete with disquieting photos and a headline that evokes Kafka. I have mentioned I wrote a book, right?

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 5) About the Election

ME: So there's going to be some new people helping to run the country.
HIM: What does that mean?
ME: It's these people who don't agree with President Bush on some things like the war and they'll have more of a say in it than the people who usually agree with President Bush.
HIM: And what are their names?
ME: Well, there's a lot of them. But they're called the Democrats. You probably haven't heard of them, they haven't been around much since you were born.
HIM: Are they going to flush Bush down the toilet?
ME: No. Well, in a philosophical sense, perhaps--
HIM: REALLY?! THEY'RE REALLY GOING TO FLUSH HIM DOWN THE TOILET?!
ME: No, no they're not going to flush him down the toilet.
(long pause)
HIM: That's too bad.

Donkey-loving Conservatives

If this goes the way everyone seems to think it will, it's going to be a result of the conservatives abandoning the Republicans and perhaps shacking up with the Democrats.

It's easy to use the two words "conservative" and "Republican" as synonyms or even as a sort of compound word "conservativerepublicans" but I've noticed a growing gap between people with a conservative philosophy about the world and people who leverage those principles for political purposes. It's something I first became aware of when I was researching my book and it seemed at the time (summer 2005) that non-Republican conservatives might have something to say about the future of the right in America. I went ahead and concentrated on this distinction in the book and have seen that prediction come true. In the book, a deeply conservative mayor of a small Idaho town renounces his party right into my microphone and becomes a reluctant Democrat. As the Republican party drifts away from conservative principles with big ambitious government and spending, the Democrats are positioning themselves as the party of caution, pragmatism, and even conservatism. It's hard to imagine it's deliberate on the part of the Democrats but it's happening.

The candidates that have fared the best among Democratic challengers have been the ones that would be considered moderate or even conservative. Jim Webb in Virginia was in the Reagan administration and is no fan of the far left wing of his own party. Tester in Montana appeals to a conservative/libertarian element in his own state that is ill-served by the incumbent (Conrad Burns used to give the farm report on radio in Montana but has since become too DC for many Montanans). Harold Ford will likely lose but he came awfully close to taking Bill Frist's seat in Tennessee by running as a conservative Democrat. He's not running this time around, but Obama has become a rock star by taking a church-friendly, moderate tack as he emerges from Illinois, land of Lincoln, to national prominence.

Meanwhile, who's struggling? Ned Lamont, who was beloved by the left but couldn't court the middle and unlike Webb and Tester, couldn't court the classical conservatives that the GOP has left behind. Rick Santorum is set to lose big to Bob Casey, a conservative Democrat. Even if all the conservatives don't necessarily vote for their local Democrat, they may choose not to vote at all for their local Republican, at least in enough numbers to tilt the composition of the government.

There will be soul-searching in the GOP if this all turns out the way it's been speculated to. And just as Democrats wonder how they lost the south in the wake of Reagan's 1980 election, Republicans will wonder how they lost the conservatives.

At the airport...

Coming back from the tour, I waited at the baggage carousel. Nearby there was a table designated for public use and it was covered with signs saying that the airport is not responsible for what goes on at the table, it's just a soapbox for groups to do whatever they like. There was a LaRouchie on duty with crude hand drawn signs calling for Bush and Cheney to be impeached and stacks of literature, all of it about LaRouche and all of it, presumably, with bad copy editing. He was there to proselytize. But people kept coming up to him to ask where to get a cab or where Delta airlines had it's baggage claim office. I watched him try to talk to these folks about his theories and calls to arms but they just wanted to get a cab and go to their hotels. Finally, he just started telling them where the cabs were. And he offered them some literature. No one took the literature.

TONIGHT: Reading at University Bookstore in Seattle

It will not be raining indoors. This is your penultimate chance to see a Conservatize Me (hardback edition) reading. The magic phrase to win a special prize is "Your book is a choco-taco of insight and hilarity". Tonight's prize is pretty special, too.

Monday • November 6 • 7pm John Moe Conservatize Me: How I Tried to Become a Righty with the Help of Richard Nixon, Sean Hannity, Toby Keith, and Beef Jerky (WILLIAM MORROW) Reading & Book Signing University District Store Is one's political persuasion a question of conviction or environment? John Moe, one of our favorite KUOW personalities, decided to spend some time in the shoes of red state America to see. In this very funny book, he chronicles his time spent listening to Rush Limbaugh and Toby Keith, test driving SUVs, getting all Charlton Heston on the firing range, and watching movies like "Red Dawn." Did it turn this dyed-in-the-wool liberal into a firebrand conservative? Stop by to find out!

Rave Review!

In the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. It's the paper that makes you intelligent afterwards.

TOUR DIARY: AT LONG LAST, AUSTIN

David Rakoff is scared that he's about to be shot to death. I don't know this even though I'm seated right next to him. The murder of the acclaimed writer, if it happens, would be even more shocking for me since minutes ago he gave me a pecan that he found growing wild on a path often walked by George W. Bush. This came a few minutes after he and I seemingly presided over a session of the Texas state senate. Am I about to be splattered with the very finely developed brain of David Rakoff, so soon after, I think, becoming friends with him?

I am in Austin, Texas. It is the Texas Book Festival. It was started by Laura Bush.

There were writers flying in to Austin in great numbers for the festival and t-shirt clad festival volunteers swarming the airport ready to give them rides. There was a Live Strong convention happening simulataneously and volunteers for that one were picking up attendees as well but since no one ever accuses writers of living strong, confusion was not an issue. I was delivered to my hotel around 5pm and with little else to do until morning, went to the restaurant and ordered a big steak and a glass of red wine.

This was followed by one of my regular constitutional strolls around the city, down 6th street where every building is a bar and every bar has a live band and it's 6pm and every band is quite fond indeed of Stevie Ray Vaughn.

The next morning I woke up (which is normal) and went to breakfast at the Texas Governor's Mansion (which is not) but the governor was not there to join me for breakfast (which is normal) nor were many of the other big names at the festival. They let us tour the inside of the house but served us breakfast on the lawn since we are, after all, writers.

I was told that my event, a panel discussion with the estimable David Rakoff, would take place in the Capitol building itself. I figured that meant a conference room somewhere, possibly a hallway. But nope: we were in the senate chambers. Massive room, ornate decor, statesmanlike. Many folks coming to watch sat in the gallery but the senators' seats were also filled up with festival attendees as if they would vote on our funniness quotient. After an hour of warm reception and jokes flying about, we were escorted to our signing tent. Along the way, David found pecans on the ground and was told that they grow on trees in Austing. Delighted, he offered me one, which I gladly ate (how often do top-notch humorists give you pecans? you've got to carpe the diem).

At our table, there was a small stream of autograph seekers for David and a trickle for me. This, we consoled ourselves, was due to the Shea-Stadium-for-The-Beatles-like mob that was going bananas for Barack Obama. He had been in the House chambers while we were in the Senate. I never even saw him, whisked, as he was, from building to signing tent and then off to save the country or something. As David and I sat there, a man approached wearing a big parka (on an 85 degree day) and appeared to be reaching for something in his pocket as he looked straight at/through David Rakoff. It turned out to be...a book which was quickly signed and the fella dispatched with less small talk than normal. Turns out, David was convinced the man had a gun and that this would be the end of his life. He had made some disparaging remarks about the famously hostile Barbara Bush in his book and thought "aha, now that I'm in Texas, her posse has come to rub me out."

After the signing petered out, Mr. Rakoff, who I'm happy to report is a heck of a nice guy despite living in fear of assassination, walked with me to the C-SPAN BookTV traveling bus for my interview. You sit down, a microphone is clipped on, and before you quite realize it, you're on television. Or at least you will be. When they air it. And I don't know when that will be.

David was doing an event with Amy Sedaris later, giving me a chance to get her book signed for my wife (Amy is also very nice, it's okay to be a fan). Then I walked back to the hotel, was driven to the airport and my book tour was over. I flew from Dallas to Seattle in first class, the first time I had ever flown first class in my life. It was much nicer than the first time I tried chewing tobacco. That experience is chronicled in my book. Have I mentioned I wrote a book?

A Conversation with Charlie (Age 5) About School

ME: So who do you play with at recess?
HIM: Oh, lots of people. Boys. All the boys.
ME: Any...uh...particular boys?
HIM: There's sort of like a boys team.
ME: And are you on that team?
HIM: Yes.
ME: And what does the boys team do?
HIM: Oh, mostly tries to destroy the girls team.
ME: Destroy them how?
HIM: Hmm. Well, I don't know about all the plans just yet.

Even The Lord of Darkness Loves Conservatize Me!

Something Not About Me Me Me Me Me.

The Pernice Brothers are one of my favorite bands. They make beautiful thoughtful music that can make you wonderfully sad and peaceful. Their audio/video page really ought to be experienced. Particularly the Cribs episodes and the video for Working Girls where Death has some pie and then plays stickball.

TOUR DIARY: MILWAUKEE

Milwaukee is an old Indian word meaning “My gosh, there’s a lot of bookstores here and I’m going to visit all of them immediately after getting off the airplane”. I know it seems odd that they would have such a term but they were a strange and mystical people. Later, they would form the Milwaukee Bucks basketball team. What was especially noble was that they used every part of the buck for that team: the organs would be used for the ball, the pelt for the uniform, and the antlers would be used for antlers that the players would strap to their heads, thus intimidating opposing players, especially in the low post.

I was met at the airport by Cathy (see previous day’s entry on the niceness of upper Midwest media escorts) who quickly began squiring me about Milwaukee and its surrounding areas. Something about a situation like this: they’re driving you around, sometimes even telling you the name of the town or neighborhood you’re in, but it means nothing to you. Having never been to Milwaukee, the geographical names meant nothing – Mequon? Brookfield? Wha?- so it’s just a long disorienting ride in a car with a pleasant person you’ve never met punctuated by brief drop-ins at bookstore where you make small talk, sign books, try to make a joke or say something unique about your book so they’ll remember you, and then move along. But we did have a great lunch…somewhere… and I first felt the rush of love I now have for the fine people at Harry W. Schwartz Bookshop. We went to all eleventy billion of their stores and met folks like Johnny in Brookfield who had read the book, sold most of his stock, and was discussing it with a co-worker as we walked in (or at least gallantly pretended to be). We met Stacey at the Downer Avenue (not a depressing street at all, actually) who had read the galley and spent a great deal of time evangelizing it to friends. And ultimately we met Dan, who was hosting me at the Bayview store, who told me that “several of us at the store are fans of your work.” Since I doubt he had gained an appreciation of my temporary office worker placement in the mid-90’s, I’m thinking he means McSweeney’s or maybe NPR but probably McSweeney’s.

I get to the Pfister Hotel in downtown Milwaukee around 4:30 and have a couple of hours before it’s time to go read. The lobby of the Pfister is just absurd. Palatial, grand, ostentatious, The Sun King would say “oh my goodness, this is just too much”. It looked like an ornate cathedral and featured, in two different places, the word “SALVE” in huge letters. I don’t know why. I’ll try to find out. I meant to ask. A hotel worker (I hate to use the word “bellboy”) helped me to my room and provided helpful, non-intuitive advice on how to find the light switch since I would have never thought to look on the walls near the doors. He must have been 55. I gave him five bucks.

Cathy picks me up and we head for the store, getting there a few minutes early. Since I’m not the kind of famous author who will always have 50 people get there early, this part is nerve-wracking. Will I get 30 people? 60? Any? At Schwartz in Bayview, there are some. With 15 minutes before I go on, I go for a walk in the rain, refusing an offer of an umbrella with a quick “I’m from Seattle”. On Kinnickinnic Avenue, I notice a billboard for a country music station with a picture of Toby Keith (major character in my book) (did I mention I wrote a book?) and the words “My Country”. It appears the nation has now been consigned to Toby. Of course I mention this in the reading and it goes over big because it’s right there. I love when that kind of thing works out.

The crowd is fairly large, very enthusiastic, asks great questions, and makes me feel even better about Milwaukee than I already did. I heart Milwaukee. Two extra things made the event better still. My mother-in-law, Susie, took the train up from Chicago and is in attendance. Her other two sons-in-law are, respectively, a Georgetown-trained lawyer and a nuclear physicist. So by having a book published, I’m only just now getting in the race. Also showing up: dear friend Carson, my wife’s best friend from college, who drove in from Madison. Afterwards, we all were taken by media escort Cathy, the queen of Milwaukee, to a restaurant.

Here’s something else Cathy did: when taking Susie back to her hotel, Cathy also drove the route from hotel to the train station so that when Susie had to find the train station in the morning, it would be easier. So nice. I guess that’s part of being a media escort but not really, just being a nice person.

To the Pfister, past the mysterious Salve signs, off to bed.

TOUR DIARY: MINNEAPOLIS AND ALSO ST. PAUL

The friendliness of upper Midwest media escorts should not be underestimated. As their weather is to snow, as their arteries are to cheese clogs, so too are there media escorts to genuine hospitality. Tim picked me up from the airport and shuttled me to eight bookstores over the course of a very busy day. He knew everyone. Made specific small talk with each bookseller regarding their particular lives, even asked one hotel concierge how his recent trip to the Streisand concert was. These guys are good.

The afternoon featured a trip to the studios of radio station WCCO, a station that positions itself as “Your Friendly Neighbor”. They tried going with “Your Creepy Neighbor with Broken Down Cars in the Yard Who May be Holding Satanic Seances or Maybe Amway Meetings and Never Takes the Newspapers off the Windows” but that one didn’t test as well in focus groups. Go figure. My host was Jack Rice, a lawyer and former CIA agent who is now a talk show host, so there’s lots of different ways he can kill you. To my delight, he actually read the book and loved it and had great questions. Also to my delight, he kept mixing up Jeff Gannon (fake reporter/man whore) with Rich Gannon (former Vikings QB/ not man whore).

The hotel I was staying in was preposterous. In a good way. Plasma TV in the bathroom. Just absurd. I loved it.

Minneapolis is delightful, treating older buildings in just the right mix of development and preservation, the way Seattle has never figured out how to. I have no doubt that if I lived there I would revert to that accent within minutes. The Boston accent, meanwhile, is one I could never achieve.

For dinner I met up with dear old friend Spike Booth, who is now a famed Minneapolitan actor and used to be a frustrated grad school actor with me in New Jersey. I got to see his lovely wife Tippy and meet his two robust boys who favor Narnia and the Minnesota Twins. We all ate pancakes.

Later in the night, after a fiasco involving a bookstore I shall never forgive (mitigated by a polite hipster clerk who’s book I signed) (a McSweeney’s based fan, I’m thinking), I met up with Larry, my former neighbor in Seattle and now an ad man in Minneapolis. I’ve romanticized his new city for a long time but he told me to, pretty much, shut up and enjoy Seattle. Outdoor recreation options, great culture, proximity to tremendous variety. Apparently the place I live has a ton of reason to live there. Thanks Larry! The night ended with meeting up once again with Spike at the hotel bar where we had mojitos while a sad lonely drunk woman made a fool of herself.

Thanks Minneapolis!

TOUR DIARY: WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

(these feature more detail than you need but I’m not much of a picture taker, I’m a writer so I’m creating written souvenirs)

“Ah, there’s my favorite cab driver,” said the hotel porter, a sort of service-industry Mike Ditka. “I pay him with the Globe.” He gave the cabbie the newspaper, refused my tip and I got in.

“This is where I start my day. I get a free paper!” he said in, I think, a Boston-Pakistani accent. Ten minutes later, we were at the airport. I had gone out with friends the night before and that, combined with time zone maladjustment and knowing I had a 5:45 wake up call, meant I slept almost not at all. “Book tour…” I muttered while waiting for the commuter flight to DC.

Media escorts are good at finding the people they’re escorting. Long before you see the book they’re holding up, they’ve already found you. The Jefferson Hotel mercifully let me check in at 10 in the damn morning, though they didn’t have easy internet access, requiring me to use the lobby computer, a PC that was all cloodgy and weird. And you can check email but it seems weird to sit around reading Deadspin or The Onion or McSweeney’s there. I hung around the hotel for a couple of hours, never quite sleeping or doing much else.

The afternoon picked up a bit. Dropped in at a couple of local bookstores to sign stock copies. At one, I learned that Ol’ Man Hodgman would be appearing in Washington, the largest city in the whole District of Columbia, that same night. My interview with John Hodgman was the closest I’ve ever come to not being able to continue an interview due to laughter.

HIS APPEARANCE IN WASHINGTON WAS NOT PART OF SOME LARGER PLAN TO SEIZE CONTROL OF THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, APPOINTING ME AS A SOULLESS YES-MAN AND CABINET TOADY. STOP ASKING.

Walking around that day, I realized I was nearby some of the places discussed in the book, including the Family Research Council and it’s attached gift shop, which, in the book, I mock. A lot. Not sure if they were still open but the shades were all drawn and they did not appear to be welcoming. Hmm. Maybe they knew I was coming.

I like all the people I’ve met in DC and it’s certainly fascinating. But man, it feels like a cold city to me. I mean, it’s built on power, politics, and trying to get re-elected/re-appointed. It’s tense.

That afternoon, I also had a chance to visit my co-worker Phyllis Fletcher who is temporarily stationed at NPR headquarters on Massachusetts Avenue. The building is featured briefly in my book (I wrote a book, have I told you?) when, after an awkward tea with “Jeff Gannon”, I stand outside longing to go in but not allowed to by my self-imposed rules. So I stand there humming the All Things Considered theme song.
But this time, I got to go in AND watch ATC being broadcast. Watched Robert Siegel and Melissa Block at their microphones doing the show. I’m a public radio veteran by this point but I was star struck. Here’s something you might want to know: Robert wears a suit—on the radio! Awesome! I also met a ton of producers, including some who I’ve been trying to get booked through. Here’s something else about NPR: their offices have cubicles with fabric walls just like yours. Don’t romanticize it too much, it’s a job.

Walked back to the hotel, stopping at Caribou Coffee to check email.

Reading that night at the Barnes & Noble in Georgetown to a pretty decent crowd. The crowd size was helped considerably by ringers: Jill’s two sisters, various of their friends, and my brother-in-law, a former Christian Coalition honcho and Bush appointee. Plus the requisite college hipster/McSweeney fans. Again, the eclectic crowd I’ve come to expect. Good questions, lively crowd, lots of books sold. I even signed a book for Ralph Reed, which blew my mind in about twelve directions.

I’ve been working in an anecdote about Charlie when I talk. The other night when I was in San Francisco, I talked to Jill on the phone at about 10. When I asked her how Charlie went to bed, she told me he was still up. “What’s he doing up at 10?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said, somewhat resigned, “Oprah was on and she was talking to Barack Obama. Now he’s all excited about Barack Obama and can’t go to sleep.” Obamamania has reached the Moe house.

When I got home, he told me, “Dad! Good news! Barack Obama is going to fix all the things Bush broke! Because Bush is the worst president but it’s going to be okay!” I love my son quite a lot.

TONIGHT'S SECRET PHRASE TO WIN A PRIZE (AT MAGERS & QUINN IN MINNEAPOLIS): "YOUR BOOK IS LIKE AN ORDER OF TERIYAKI WHERE THE CHICKEN IS THE INSIGHT AND THE SAUCE IS THE FUNNY". GOOD LUCK!

TOUR DIARY: BOSTON

There's a new place in my heart and it's squishy and it's where Boston will now live. I love Boston. I flew in from Seattle, taking the full course of the flight to, I believe, successfully sell my seatmates on the book. Then, after some wandering around chaotic and LaGuardia-esque Logan Airport, I got a cab ride to the Bostonian Hotel from Ben Affleck's character in Good Will Hunting.

On the advice of a friend, I wandered that evening around the North End, seeing the Old North Church (Paul Revere's ride) and a bunch of places where Ben Franklin allegedly did things. Next morning was an hour on the phone and the air with Wisconsin Public Radio followed by bookstore drop-ins. And all the stores I went to, turns out, were quite well stocked with Conservatize Me. I mean, yes the streets don't follow any discernible grid or really any geometric construct. But, I don't know, it really feels like you're somewhere.

I got on the T train, found out I was going the wrong way, got on a different one, and was in Cambridge before I knew it. Cambridge! Where Harvard is! I know! I was stunned and thrilled to find my book in the Harvard Bookstore and something called the Coop, which is pronounced like a place you keep chickens and not a hippy grain sharing system. At 3:13 I decided to get back to the hotel and get some relaxing in before the night's reading. I had hoped to be back at the Faneuil Hall hotel by 4:30 or 5. But it turns out Boston is not like Seattle where you'll be on buses all day long. I was relaxing by 3:40. Zoom zoom.

The reading at Boston University's bookstore (run by Barnes & Noble) was a good time. As it often seems to be, it was a mix of politically aware baby boomers, young hipster McSweeney's fans, and two to three elderly people. I don't know why I tend to attract this crowd but the patter repeats itself in nearly every city. That's why it's a pattern, I guess. Making matters cooler still was that people bought books. Even the hipsters! I've noticed that in some cities, folks will come up to me after and say "It sounds like a great book! I can't wait to check it out from the library!" And, you know, uh, that's fine, I guess. And not everyone can or even wants to buy the book. But I can see now why the righty books sell better. Because that audience doesn't work in social services. They work in the for-profit or even the for-a-lot-of-profit sectors. They buy the book.

On to DC today where I'm hoping to drop in for a visit at NPR Headquarters. I wanted to visit there when I was researching the book but The Experiment was taking place and I would not allow myself to do so. So I just stood outside humming the All Things Considered theme song, like Spinal Tap singing Heartbreak Hotel at Graceland.