There is something about extreme weather that brings out the worst in news. Those too tightly wrapped weather guys finally get to put themselves in peril. And every news company seems to have a closet full of loose wing-nuts that want to stand at the end of the pier yelling through gale force winds that the people who have not evacuated aren’t too bright.

It was so sad to see last night’s hurricane go from a cat. 4 to a cat. 2 in a matter of hours. It was like letting the wind out of a bag (I leave the pun intention up to you). Words like ’still’ and ‘potentially’ were wheeled out in attempts to bring life back into Stormapalooza. “This could still be a deadly storm” “This could potentially kill thousands, drown New York City and eat your first born child.” By 2 in the morning the normally fake fumbling ‘dialogue’ between newscasters had devolved into half-hearted waves to blue screens and too quick cut backs to the reporters on the scene who, not quite ready to be on the air are seen trying drudge up even more perilous places to pontificate from. “We’ve climbed up onto the roof of this 4 story building to show you just what could happen if a gale force wind should break free of the hurricane, travel fifty miles over the Atlantic and hit your elderly loved one square in the bean bags.”

Oh, to pine for deadly peril. Out in the blue waters of the Atlantic more storms are lining up. And even as I type this, news-casters are starring at TV screens, pouring over computer models and wondering which tropical depression just might form into the next Big Storm, the next opportunity for an Emmy. We no longer get the news, we get reality TV hosted by rank amateurs hoping to leverage their on -screen air time into a talk show. Someone call Jersey Shore’s ‘The Situation’ -damn it, there’s a storm brewing.

Some have fled back to the tried and true: environmentalism. Encouraged by an EPA that now moves unfettered, like some vast lumbering beast across the landscape, they have started gathering email addresses and making enemy lists. Except, unfortunately, when the Primary Enemy becomes the most powerful player on your team, well there’s not much left for you to do. Imagine showing up to work tomorrow and finding out that Kobe Bryant has joined your team, and yeah he is every bit as good at doing what you do as he is at basketball, so if you could just get him some coffee and stay out of the way, that would be great, thank you. Environmentalists have been relegated to the fringes, to the tragically funny, to shows like Whale Wars. Ironic, isn’t it? A whole movement in search of an elusive monster big enough to satisfy their more basic urges (only in this case we are talking power and control). Someone get me a harpoon.

However, we can predict with almost unerring accuracy that a few enterprising power freaks will do what they always do when the well runs dry: create the Next Big Threat. Only, this is more art than science. Part fear mongering, part data manipulation, part public relations, part pop culture and a whole lot of luck, you just never know what is going to stick. So, the trick is to keep offering up threat after threat until you come across the one that finally captures the imagination of the public, or just so happens to have been released on a slow news day. Want an example? I open Yahoo news and there on the front page is a headline screaming about Mass Extinction. Yes, Virginia, we are all going to die. Grandma, your fluffy kitty, and all the cute little creatures of the world are all heading into a terrible unending night called death (insert evil laughter here). Hell, it has already started -since the end of Bush’s presidency birth rates in America have dropped dramatically. Look it up.

Once, as a nation we woke up and saw that power hungry people used corporations and giant companies as a means to their ends, usually to the detriment of others. Power does that to people. Now, maybe we are starting to wake up as a nation and realize that power hungry people are using political movements founded on ‘altruistic’ motives as a means to their ends, usually to the detriment of others. Too much power with too few restraints.. it is a story as old as the first cave man who learned to use a club, and a story we never seem to learn.

I can’t help but wonder if Ben was a tad jealous as he watched his brother through the lens. Casey has a natural confidence that I would wager money Ben has taken years of acting classes to try and imitate. And where-as Ben has shied away from his Yankee heritage (with a notable exception or two) Casey wades into the Bostonian spirit of things with a gusto that had this Yankee cheering from cheap seats. One scene sticks out; it takes place in a bar and the patrons of the bar have finally gotten fed up with Casey’s questions. They all stand up, the front door is locked and someone is about to get a severe beatin’. Casey stands up and the look on his face is sheer bean-town chutzpah, that look screamed “Are you fucking kidding me?” with an authenticity that surprised me.

It surprised me on several levels. Besides looking genuine it came from a baby faced kid with the body of a 12 year old. Casey is one of these new Hollywood leading males that seems to be the by-product of all the female hormones in the water supply. Think Ed Norton meets Giovanni Ribissi. Steve McQueen may be dead, but there might just be some hope yet.

The female lead in the movie was mostly window dressing, except for one notable scene involving a rock quarry. Ed Harris does a note-worthy job, but I felt the Morgan Freeman phoned it in a bit. The plot loses momentum and credibility towards the end. Having dined on both Ben’s and Lehane’s fare I can easily say that it was the fault of the former and not the latter. Still, a movie worth seeing.

I’d like to see these action movies starring 40-somethings start to resemble real life. A little more wheezing, some audible joint popping, a knee crack or two. What’s more heroic: taking countless beatings and through movie magic and bad writing acting like nothing ever happened, or the guy with the bad back and bum knee doing whatever he has to do to get the job done?

“Much of what you say is true, even the skewed stuff (those memes start to pop out just like the fnords). My problem with this is the sheer emotional heft of the issue. Building this thing at this place is the equivalent for a great many people to being stabbed very hard in the eye. And then, once being stabbed getting called out for cussing and perhaps for the specific choice of cuss words used.

Aren’t we a bigger and better people than this? You know what, I don’t think so, And that is not meant to be the least bit insulting. We want to say that this is about freedoms and rights and prejudice and political footballs. You know what this is about? People still in pain, a country still in shock and a public that is just starting to come to grips all these years later with what happened to us on that day. Excuse us everyone if the public reaction is less than stellar, if the choice of words could use some refinement (OK, a lot of refinement)or if some of our more base emotions are putting in an appearance.

I will say one thing about this situation: it has shown us that we have not healed as a nation. That going shopping shortly after 9-11 was not a cure to what ailed us. That glossing over the extremist elements in the Muslim community has not helped a wit, but neither has waving the flag of hate and anger. We, as a nation are in the 7 stages of grief. We are at stage 2. Tell the Imam to come back at stage 3, that’s the bargaining stage. Till then, leave us alone with our pain.”

It is just too soon. It is as simple as that. Years from now I think it would be a work of awesome humanity to build a multi-cultural place of worship and contemplation, but for now the 9-11 site and the area around it is exactly what it is: a giant scar on the land. An unhealed wound that needs time to heal.

The Polk Museum of Art is letting the class use some of their space for the school. I am not sure of the exact nature of the relationship, but it seems to be a win/win done on the cheap. The Kid’s Montessori school is continuing what they have always done: a relatively no frills focus on learning. Sure, sure there is some of that hippie dippy ‘at your own pace’ ‘contemplate your navel’ type of stuff, the kind of stuff that, frankly puts me off my supper. But, it appears to be working. So, for next to nothing money-wise we can crank out kids that, by all tests used to measure such things appear to be pretty damn smart. Boy oh boy, where are the cameras? Where’s the media? Where’s the Teachers Union taking notes so they can try to figure out how to include a redemption plank into the next major political campaign to justify their very existence? I now where they are: L.A., Kalifornia. Land of not only the 19 billion dollar deficit but also the most expensive school that has ever been built in the history of man.

Five Hundred and Seventy Eight million dollars buys you the most state of the art school ever. This thing is a masterpiece, a work of architectural wonderment. It is a shrine. Here is a place government officials will come to pay homage to the purest distillation of government over-spending co-mingled with lofty impossible to maintain ideologies. Suddenly unfundable pension plans that need 120+ workers to fund one retiree don’t seem so ridiculous. Small town city planners that make a half a million a year don’t seem quite over the top. Forestry regulations that encourage wildfires, zoning laws that let neighbors build on mudslide prone mountains, water restrictions that needlessly starve one of America’s most abundant breadbaskets, deficits and tax burdens that drive businesses away.. all that seems like small potatoes now. California has just trumped everything and everyone, they took the money that could have opened 7 schools, or paid for God knows how many teachers and used that money to open one school. In a recession. During budget cuts. With teachers elsewhere in the state either losing their jobs of close to it once the stimulus money runs out. If Orwell, Carl Marx and the Marx Brothers all had a baby together it would look remarkably like this school.

So, what does 578 mil. get me? Talking benches (no, this is not at an attempt at humor), manicured gardens, state of the art this’s and that’s, fine architecture, and I’m sure many other bells and whistles. I’m not sure who is going to this school, and I don’t care. I do know that who ever is not going to this school will feel like second class citizens. ‘Yeah, our school costs a lousy 70 mil. We suck.’ Personally, I wouldn’t let my kid go here. In one year, two years tops this place is going to start to break down. Remember, kids go here. The benches will stop talking, the palm trees will start dying and mark my words there will be some type of mold issue (there always is). But now there won’t be any money left, and this testament to government idiocy and ideological exuberance (is that redundant?) will shed its classy looks and start down that long sad trek towards bureaucratic insolvency. Years from now, assuming we pull out of the financial nose dive we are in students of higher learning will come to the remains of this school to learn a first hand lesson on how things should never ever be done again.

My son will toil away in a rented room in a building not even tasked for the purpose for which it is being used. And when he emerges from that experience I guarantee you that he will be smarter, more capable and in general happier than any one kid attending that plastic palace in L.A. Guarantee it.

So, it is with this indifference in mind that I picked up a graphic novel called ‘The Walking Dead’ at a bookstore. It was new and I am basically starved for new stuff. The artwork isn’t great, it is in black and white, both strikes against what I usually like, but I thought ‘what the hell’ and gave it a shot. I was hooked almost immediately. It is the writing that carries this book, really solid writing that borders on exceptional. And also the whole post apocalyptic thing. This isn’t just about zombies, it is about the scarcity of resources, it is about a life on the edge, constant danger, people’s reactions, group think and often times the most evil villain of them all: your fellow man. Oh, and zombies, hordes of flesh eating shoot ‘em in the head zombies. The comic is on issue 76 and I have not read a bad one yet. Get it, read it and bask in zombie love. I am finally a convert.

So, imagine my joy when I found out that the makers of Mad Men (yes, it really is an awesome show) and Rubicon (OMG!, he gushes like an eleven year old girl) is bringing you The Walking Dead in all its glory. Trailers are out, a web site has been created (you can even see a ‘motion’ version of the first comic) and so far all looks well. Check it out here. Now maybe I can finally join the zombie fan club.

One famous example of this that lights up the Internet is the Volkswagen AC compressor. There is little to no after market for German AC compressors. If yours breaks you will not be able to find it at Discount Auto. The only place you can get it is at the dealership where it costs roughly the same as the treasure of the Nibelung allowing for inflation and a good ass raping. Oh, and the kicker? They are crap. I mean, plastic pieces of pooh designed to break and stab you in your wallet by way of your groin. So, imagine my joy when the wife’s AC went out. For the three days it took for me to get the nerve up to send her to the dealership I was in high blood pressure hell. I probably should not have looked up the cost on the Internet, but having done so and seeing the average $2000 cost to repair this lesson in German craftsmanship led to some interesting conversations between me and the wife: ‘Honey, do we really need air conditioning?’ When I say ’send her to the dealership’ what I mean is, she put her foot down, her sweaty sweaty foot and went to get the repair done regardless. Luckily, thank you, Jesus it was an electronic problem and $100 or so dollars later the guys at the VW shop told my wife’s car to turn the AC back on and like a good German trooper it did so. Still, makes you wonder.. Why did this happen? Can it happen again? Is this part of some small yet consistent revenue stream that bolsters VW’s bottom line? Nah, I’m sure I’m just being my normal nutty self.

Fast forward to now. The car’s acting up again. Hesitating before it starts, strange lights flashing on the dash (there’s a problem with the steering column?!?), windows hesitating. Those of you more mechanically inclined have probably guessed what’s wrong; me, I see teutonic gremlins lurking in the shadows ironically working for some massive German industrial complex by acting out their general impulses. Yeah, I was a tad deprived as a child. So, the battery dies. The wife calls, I’m up and out in a flash to do what mechanically inept husbands do (I CAN replace a battery) and with a few tools in hand I am off to the races.

Only, I’m not. I have owned American cars, Japanese cars and Australian cars. In each of those cases when the battery dies you pop the hood, pop the connecting wire thingees, pull the battery out and replace with a new one. Easy peasy Japaneesy, though I always cringe when the motor starts because no matter how many times I check I fear that I have attached positive to negative and am about to turn the car in question into the most expensive fireworks show I have ever purchased / still owe money on. But those Germans, those pesky Germans they have a different idea about batteries.

First things first I cannot find the battery. Being a persistent M-Fer I start cracking open various battery size cases. See, VW engines look like plastic steamer trunks. You open the hood and are greeted with the sight of several plastic boxes of various sizes. I assume there is an engine in there somewhere, but out of some pique of neatness, engine envy or what have you they have covered everything up. What it does succeed in doing is overwhelmingly say ‘do not touch this you unqualified moron’. I eventually find the battery. Get this: it is encased in a plastic box that comes apart in 3 pieces. They then wrap the damn thing in a cozy that fits together like Japanese Origami (seems the Germans learned something from WWII besides the folly of a land war with Russia). My mood darkening by the second I remove the pieces of the box, I remove the cozy to expose the battery. I remove the cables. I grab the battery. It does not budge. I pull harder. Nein. Those damn blasted Europeans have bolted the piece of crap to the engine. After some more analysis I see how it is done. I ask the wife to look it up in the 400 page owners manual. She gets to the page on batteries and it says: ‘Please see dealer. Replacing the battery is dangerous and can result in sever injury and death.’ Oh.. My… God.. At this point my frustration turns to anger, bubbles over and becomes a white hot soup of condemnation. If you sensed an anti-German angle in this post you are starting to see why.

The only reason why this battery was bolted down and encased like it was was to send me to the dealer. That’s it. Intimidate me enough and I will drop the 3 to 5 bills to have some technician at the VW shop take 10 minutes to swap it out. I made the decision at that moment that I was going to replace the battery myself, barring the need of some special tool or some special battery (both situations I would not put past the greedy Wiemar bastards -look it up). I went to the Wal-Mart across the street and purchased $50 in tools. I could see the bolt and my larger than normal paw of a hand just barely fit into the space between the battery and the hot engine. I then went to Discount Auto and after a little leg pulling and some driving found the right battery. $170 later I had the battery in hand. I’m sorry, is this a Mercedes or a mid price ranged family car? With only minor burning to my hand I remove the bolt that secures the battery. I put in the new battery. I can’t get the cozy to fit. Fuck the cozy, it goes in the trunk. I replace the 3 piece plastic box and we start the engine. It starts like a dream. A dream at the end of a nightmare designed by European capitalists posing as socialists in an amoral world that cares only about the buck spent today.

What a stupid world we have allowed.