Snakeskin jaspers and meteorites

This is the week-end of the Tucson Gem exposition. There is only one such exposition ever anywhere in the entire world, I am told. That means that I just had to check it out. People travel from Germany and Hong Kong to view minerals and stones, so I can certainly travel the 10 miles or so from the desert to take a look.

What turned out to be, however, even more interesting than the convention center's big show (yes, of VERY expensive stones-- even though there are lots of free ones in the canyon -- see yesterday's post) was the off-off-off Broadway of gem shows -- the one in tents and warehouses at the edge of town. Now that was worth the hike! Australian opal mixed in with Pakistani onyx, Peruvian minerals, meteorites, Snakeskin jasper -- more names than even yesterday's litany of cacti species. And let me not forget the Indian (from India) patchwork quilts and Afghani carpets.

I bought a carpet woven in Afghanistan-- it seemed fitting to do so at Tucson's biggest-in-the-world gem show. The man was selling it from the back of his truck. His pal had some more in a tent not too far away, as you head toward the desert. The land around me and the weather seemed much like I imagine Afghanistan to be (I am quite uninformed and so I could be off by several zones, but I think it's a fair guess). The seller explained to me how the old man who had made the carpet was dead now, but his son had taken over and was making fine carpets -- maybe he'll bring some next year to Tucson. The other seller, the one in the tent, told me that he had a regular customer in Wisconsin: he asked me if I knew where Madison was. The skeptics may scoff at my naivete ('how do you know it's real'?), but I really have no doubt that it is quite authentic. And, even more importantly, it is very beautiful.

Back home tomorrow, carpet under my arm, rocks, cacti and mountain lions on my mind, and some good photos taken of all but the mountain lions -- couldn't get one to stand still long enough (or maybe it was only a pack rat?).

Thanks, Florida and Texas lawyer pals and Arizona desert friends, for taking in a northerner for a while.

regrets

I saw a newspaper lying around -- it was yesterday's paper, tossed to the side, about to be trashed forever. I couldn't help myself - I picked it up. It was innocent on my part: I'd never read a copy of the Arizona Star before. I wanted to see its tone, maybe find some interesting story about desert life (though I felt certain that there would not be desert news per se: the sun goes up, shines brilliantly, goes down. The end of another day).

The news was of the type you'd find anywhere: a Valentine Day's story of some improbable love, a heroic local rescue of someone's pet, an accident here, a robbery there.

I was about to toss the whole thing away when the words "Madison, Wisconsin" caught my attention. I read it, but wish I hadn't.

Is it true, then, that a reporter in Madison asked Kerry if he had had an extramarital affair? Were there rumors circulating to that effect? A day without news should have been a week withouth news if this is what the media is playing with now.

It is not surprising that Kerry would deny this (assuming, for argument's sake that it is a valid rumor). If a scream percipitated Dean's slide, what would an admission of this sort do to Kerry? But what is discouraging is the insatiable desire to pursue these types of questions. After all. do we fully understand at this point all that each candidate can offer? What policies they stand behind? What implementation tools and strategies they propose to use if elected? Have we weighed these against the three and a half grueling years of GWB? No? Well, shouldn't we get on with that project?

I read that subsequently, Kerry was asked: "is there anything that you want to tell us that's going to come up?" Do I understand this question to be asking -- is there anything incriminating that we can't quite lay our finger on now, but you'd like to share anyway, just in case we eventually learn about it? I'll let you imagine Kerry's brilliant reply [hint: it starts with the letter ""n"].

mountain lions??

What good is a sign that warns you of recent sightings of mountain lions? If you're in a canyon, and a mountain lion runs into you by accident, or you into him, what earthly protection is there for you?

The day proceeds without any reading of political headlines, and without a single lawyer joke. We leave that to the rest of the world. My partners in this desert madness took me instead into a canyon studded with cacti. So many new names to remember -- I wont even begin to demonstrate here how little knowledge of desert plantlife I have retained.

I have only two quick little recollections for now: the first is of the moment after that long hike EVEN DEEPER into the desert (it's not enough that I can be attacked by these plants at night if I am not careful), when finally I could stretch out on a flat rock and look up at a relentlessly blue sky: priceless. Especially the lying down part. Rocks and canyons and steep inclines go together.

My second recollection is of waiting for the little truck thing to come and take us deeper into the canyon. A couple of other folks were heading in the same direction and so we stood there together, strangers, bound by a common desire to see a million more cacti and perhaps an odd bird or two. I kid you not-- these folks were speaking Polish. I promise, I don't seek this out, it follows me all over the world. Even in the desert, I WILL find the one Pole who also decided at this moment to risk testing the will of the stray bobcat or the mountain lion. How odd to never escape your heritage in this way.

Sun's up in the canyon

..and the Internet is still working, whaddaya know..

It was to be a week-end with no politics -- what do coyotes know about democratic candidates after all -- but I can't quite leave it behind, even if I am not reading any headlines.

I am here with three lawyer types (and one more who comes in and out), or, more accurately, freinds (sorry, no spell-check to catch mistypes in the canyon) who once studied law with me. One of them actually lives in the desert. This morning, for instance, I woke up to dangerous looking cacti specimens that I could touch if I stretched long enough.

But politics joined the rising sun that came up very very slowly (bored with making an appearance every single day?) over the mountains. Our discussion was about whom we don't like more: candidate X, Y, or Z. Is it always like this? Eliminating the bad rather than pursuing the noble?

I am the only one in this group that still lives up north year round. This is the first time that I got greeted with -- so, what IS Wisconsin thinking these days? We are on the map!

a late note from a disoriented traveler

On my flight to the desert (see post below signaling the great journey) I met a prof of physics. He was extraordinarily good about explaining the laws of the universe to me. By 'universe' I mean everything you could imagine (for example he explained why it is bad for chidren to read Harry Potter, and why the kid behind me was crying so hard), rather than a universe of the black infinity that is beyond imagining. Recognizing his gift of explaining, I decided to ask a question which has always bothered me about the sciences: why is physics so difficult to comprehend?

By the time we were almost landing in Denver (a necessary stop on the way to the desert) I understood that the world is really divided into those who think like physicists, and those who do not. My seat mate teaches the 'physics for poets' class at UW and so he tells me that he works with a roomfull of students who cannot cross that great divide. They cannot make themselves think like physicists.

The reason I found this prof's explanation so interesting is that it filled the two hour flight in a congenial way, and, more importantly it sounded so very familiar. We, at the law school, offer the same incantation. The world is divided into two groups: those who think like lawyers, and those who do not. Not having the luxury of teaching "law for poets," and knowing that we have three years before we have to let loose the next batch of so-called lawyers, we take our job of teaching them to think like lawyers quite seriously.

I am not sure I could ever explain what the physics prof told me about a physics mindset. It was supremely complicated. And truthfully, I, like his class, never really managed to cross the great divide: I never fully comprehended the world of physics. But flying in the clear starry night, somewhere over Iowa or Kansas, it was fitting that we should be talking physics, possibly the only time in my entire life, in a knowledgeable sort of way.

Taking to the desert

Don't even think of rechecking this blog until very very late on Saturday. The Arizona desert, where I will be spending the next three days is inhospitable to the Internet until the night descends. Thus I am at the mercy of the cacti and the creatures that rule the arid land. Cold at night, warm during the day, confusing to a Wisconsin person who thinks of winter as uniformly, painfully cold. Off I go.

I’m submitting my photo to the IRS

I never thought that it was permissible to throw in supporting documents with tax returns, but now I see that I missed countless opportunities to build a strong case for the integrity of my financial records. Since I have never been audited by the IRS, I am guessing that they googled me, found my UW Law School photo, and saw me to be the honest woman that I am. But this year, I want to cut their administrative burden and so I will append the photos myself.

I got the idea from reading about the 2004 Budget as submitted by President Bush. According to Krugman of the NYT, it includes 27 photos of GWB – in various noble poses with citizens like you and me (well, one photo is just alongside a shot of Mt Rushmore—his head next to the carved heads, suggestive, no?).

There is a picture in the budget where GWB is helping a child learn how to read. Now this just knocks me over: was the president taking time from his busy, albeit short work day, to help a child read? And did the terrified child learn anything? Maybe we should test the kid?

Photos in support of the budget. What an original idea! Kind of distracts from the numbers though, doesn’t it?

Spies

What is it about my sense of fair play that makes me live with the institution of the infiltrator-spy, but find repugnant the spy who secretly turns over information about his/her own country?

Yesterday, the Times reported the death of a spy (I can’t link – the story was buried and is now gone), a Polish man who had been central to American intelligence during the latter years of the Cold War. Here, he was a hero. Staying within the military in Poland, he passed on possibly some of the most vital military secrets to the CIA. He was such a staunch anti-Communist – it is said of him that he truly was passionate about his 20 years of espionage. His sole purpose in life was to see that the Soviet control over Poland would weaken, and that the Communist Party would lose it’s grip on political power.

To his surprise, once a democratic government was elected in Poland, no one there wanted to have anything to do with him. Walesa himself refused to pardon the guy. The country considered him a traitor to the nation.

Today’s press is full of news about the American soldier who allegedly passed information on to Al Qaeda. What demonic instincts would lead a person to do that? Even the least patriotic person would regard that as an immoral act.

But spying on the enemy? That appears to be different. Yes, it’s based on deceit, but it hasn’t the elements of betrayal to the country of origin. The infiltrator who obtains secret information is a hero in film and literature. They may be fighting for the same principles, but the traitor seems a tainted person, while the infiltrator is just doing his/her job. Not one that I’d like to be doing, and not always acting on behalf of policies that I would support, but still, just a well-greased peg in the machinery that noses its way into odd places where secrets are kept.

The world of plastic toys

To the reader who just volunteered to dig out her pink flamingo and lend it to me in order to appease my nascent desire to upstage the 4 neighborhood kids (whose total age does not even add up to half of mine): I am wondering why your plastic flamingo is in the garage, or basement, or wherever you are hiding it and not out in the snow where it would make the most noticeable impression. I am sure that someone across the street from you would get a real thrill if you went out and slapped some snow into a hill and then danced around with a flamingo in a carefree way. Moreover, you probably would not succumb to the kind of hostilities and rivalry that ultimately lead to the demise of the young pack in Lord of the Flies and are now threatening to chip away at the solidarity of the gang across the street. Or would you?

To the manufacturers of Barbie and Ken: what does it mean that Barbie and Ken are “splitting up” (read story here)? I always assumed that the white wedding dresses, the glitzy costumes, and all that Barbie paraphernalia, belonged to the world of plastic toys and corporate gimmicks. Tell me, which state are you fancying as that which will sanction your “divorce?” Because right now, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I do not think that you are legally married to begin with. Marriage, so far as I know, is, in most jurisdictions, between two humans. We are currently debating how generously that should be interpreted, but I do not think anyone has yet suggested that the legal institution of marriage should embrace Barbie and Ken. I ask myself, wouldn't even the most liberal minds draw the line at plastic?

The night they invented champagne

A tip for those who are staying in town, celebrating Valentine’s Day, and want to appear loving and generous to their partner or friend on that day: do as I did today (my excuse – I wont be here on VDay): go out and buy a bottle of Michel Turgy, Brut – Blanc de Blancs Champagne. It is notable for a number of reasons:

1. It’s a relatively small house, and so you’re not buying the SUV of champagnes;
2. It is a great “sipping” champagne: full and robust, so as to keep you interested til the end of the bottle, dry enough that you never quite believe that you’ve already emptied the whole thing;
3. It is < $30. Now when was the last time that you had a memoralbe champagne (or ANY champagne for that matter) for <$30? Possibly never? I asked the guys (think: woman with short dark hair—she knows TONS!) at Steve’s if they had done a secret blind taste this year – where they taste a bunch prior to VDay and pick their favorites. I was told that indeed this bottle had come out at the top, right up there with Vilmart (those of you, and I know who you are:), who had met Laurent of Vilmart fame back in 2001 and have not yet admitted to being in love with the guy – I forgive you; one has to keep sane about things like that) and the other small family houses.

Write me if you end up buying this small treasure and agree – or if you get engaged or hooked up in an enduring relationship, or a civil union, or whatever as a result. I want credit.

Lord of the Flies, Redux

I drove up the street thinking good thoughts: the snow, Owen Woods Nature Conservation Park on the left, a bike path leading into a quiet neighborhood on the right.. winter light.. a peaceful landscape.. (the radio is off because of the pledge drive: I’ve come to my senses; see post below).

I’m home and so I take out my dog for a romp (that’s what I call a quick pace up to the neighbor’s driveway and back.. I mean, how long should it take..), I glance over at the snow hill, you know, the one with the flamingos (see Sunday post below) and I see --- chaos. The littlest boy seems to have his head stuck in the snow (or almost so) very close to that of the upside down flamingo. Big sister is whacking his torso with a broom. Middle brother is taking out the other flamingos one by one and throwing them rather meanly toward the bushes. Middle child (of yet unidentified gender) is staring at the scene, and am I imagining it or is there a hint of malice in his eye?

The building of a snow hill and the placing of pink birds in it was a beautiful image. I should have come home a half hour later. I’d never have noticed the missing bird or two, nor the hole in the hill where the boy’s head had just been.

On Wisconsin!

Today the Cap Times mentioned (here) that the NYT hinted at the possibility of having Doyle added to the democratic ticket. Governor Doyle has met with (courted?) all the contenders and so it is not impossible to imagine that if the one supported by Wisconsinites does get the nomination, there’ll be some gratitude floating around.

Doyle on the campaign trail? Well, he’s got the height thing going for him…(see post here)

Listening to the voice

The drive from my home to my office takes about 15 minutes. 90% of the time I have NPR going: it’s soothing in the morning (no one should start the day with rapid-fire speech of WBBM “all news all the time,” nor the thump thump thump of other invigorating musical venues; in the one yoga class that I ever took in my entire life the instructor told us we should start the day slowly, softly, contemplatively; I quit the class, but retained the idea), and it is fascinating during All Things C’d in the evening.

But I ask myself, what demonic force within me keeps the public radio station turned on during the pledge drive? “Why, thank you caller from Neenah, a very generous gift… we count on listeners like you to meet our financial goals… we need you to support the music and the news programming that you come to depend on.. we work for you… thank you for that call from Oshkosh, yes, Jane from Oshkosh called in, and so can you. The number to call is 1 800 000 0000, or locally, if you live in Madison, and we’d love to hear from you too, the number to call is 263, 7903..We have with us the chancellor of UW Extension, here to tell us what to him is so special about Wisconsin Public Radio.. Hello chancellor.. Remember, the number you should be calling, and our operators are standing by for your call… I see two lines open right now, so please, pick up the phone and dial..” and so on.

I have lived through pledge drives, and mini pledge drives, and during each one, for the 15 minute drive, the voice continues to make its case, in its atrociously monotonous drawl, on and on and on, and I am too lethargic, or inert, or unbalanced, or reasonless, or something (what?) to reach over and shut it off.

'Public radio. Funded through generous gifts of listeners like you.' Like me? Heaven forbid.

Really Lost in Translation

I have to say this, because I am hearing from some readers who do not know this about my writing: English is not my first language, Polish is. I learned (learnt? which one?) English during a six year stint in an elementary school in NY, but I spent my formative years (high school and most of college) in Warsaw. While everyone here was reading Hemingway and learning about “dropping the 'e' when you add ing”, I was in Warsaw reading Mickiewicz and learning about “kto uje kreskuje ten dostaje dwoje.”

NY elementary school English is not the language you can build a career on and I am happy that I have moved beyond phrases picked up on the streets (off the streets?), and in copies of the Bobbsey Twins. I mean Freddy and Flossie just didn’t have the vocabulary, nor the wit to say anything useful or intelligent.

But every once in a while, you can catch me. Although I think I am a careful writer and, in fact, I am not very tolerant of sloppy writing in general (hey, I had to learn the stuff the hard way, what’s your excuse?), I can easily be obtusely unaware of rule infractions. So, if someday I write something absurd (for ten years I thought the saying was “sufficient to say,” just because that’s what it sounded like to me), just say to yourself – oh, there’s one she doesn’t know. Chances are you’re right, I don’t.

Walk feminine, talk feminine

Tonya writes in her blog that by withholding “favorite movie rental” information (post, February 10), I am perhaps engaged in the flirtatious behavior of a bygone era: retaining elements of mystery in order to tantalize.

Could it be that she is right?

It all began in 1963 when my family took a road trip, and what was to be a pass-through in Las Vegas, turned out to be a five day layover, because my father had a bit of a car accident right there in the middle of the main intersection of Vegas.

Many jokes could be made at his expense now – all about wondering eyes and mind being elsewhere. Suffice it to say that the police faulted the other guy, though let me now, 40 years later, come clean and admit it: I was there, I saw it, it was my dad’s fault.

And so there we were, 10 year old me, 11 year old sister, frugal mom and stingy dad. We stayed at a seedy motel (that was the pattern of the trip) and waited for the sun to move from one end of the desert to the other while the car was being repaired. For a kick, my sister and I would go to the grocery store and work our way through pocket change at the slot machines. After two days of this my parents woke up and said enough: let’s do something that’s family-appropriate.

In those days, “family appropriate” in Las Vegas was hard to come by. Basically, it had to be a movie or back to the slot machines.

Not surprisingly, the theater was showing only one General Audience movie. These were the days that you normally didn’t let your kids watch “Lolita part 3” or “Sensuous Sandy” at the age of 10. So our movie was to be “Summer Magic” with Haley Mills over and over again.

The movie is a study in contrasts: Haley’s character (a teen age girl whose father just died, leaving the proper Bostonian family destitute) was one of resilience and strength. She single-handedly found an old house in Maine where they then moved, living off the land I guess (that part isn’t really explained, and the mother continued to wear fancy hats and dresses, even in Beulah, Maine). But the girl was also intent on being more feminine and a successful flirt.

The reason this story is at all relevant here is two-fold:

1. I have now demonstrated to Tonya my willingness to share favorite movies (Summer Magic) and real life dramas (car accident).
2. The movie taught me the lyrics of an influential song – one that I repeated to myself again and again as I failed to attract the boy of my dreams in my Polish high school (initially; he later succumbed to my wily ways; but then he turned his attentions elsewhere, proving that flirtatiousness will only get you so far). The song goes something like this:

You must walk feminine, talk feminine, act shy and smile feminine, complement his masculinity,
That’s what every girl should know
If she wants to catch a beau.
Let him do the talking, men adore good listeners,
Laugh, but not loudly, if he should choose to tell a joke.
….
Be demure, sweet and pure, HIDE THE REAL YOU!

So Tonya, perhaps you are right. I am but a product of my times, taught to be mysterious, secretive. True characteristics of a fanatically dedicated blogger.

Proud to be a badger

My seminar ended late (we actually finished early, but it felt late – one has to be precise in one’s words), everything about this day ended late, but I did manage to stop at Border’s on the way home to pick up a book for the week-end trip that I have ahead of me (more on that later). In the end I got two books, and it is the second, the unintended purchase that I am now remembering. Why? Because amongst all those front page reviews (that I read with great diligence and that I always way over-analyze) I found, snuggled between the NYT and the Library Journal, a review from the Madison Capital Times! It says:

His taut narrative language is direct, strong and original with a restraint lyricism full of trenchant observations. Particularly outstanding are the descriptions of Berlin crumbling from war and the oppressive ordinariness that accompanies apocalypse.

Aren’t you proud of our little Madison paper? That’s pretty heady language! [though in reality, I bought the book because of its really terrific smell. If you don’t believe me, go to Border’s and pick up a copy of “The Pieces of Berlin” by Michael Pye. You’ll see.]

A post scriptum to the entire “Fed Ex was late” saga

On January 29, I posted a blog about not trusting Fed Ex to pick up my grant application in a timely way (is anyone except me sick of this story yet?). A few weeks later I posted a related (according to me) story about Fed Ex not picking up 30 UC Berkeley applications for Fulbrights on time, thereby causing the Department of Education to summarily reject all 30 applicants because their applications came in a day late. Okay. That’s just a quick summary.

Today I read that Berkeley has been negotiating with the Department of Education so that they would reconsider their position in rejecting the late applicants. After all, Fed Ex has claimed responsibility for the pick-up and delivery error.

The resolution: the 30 applicants will get their grant proposals reviewed. Successful applicants (predicted at around 50%) will be able to call themselves “Fulbright Scholars.” But they will not be under the Fulbright program administered by the Dept of Ed. – they will be under a separate special program for them administered by the Dept of State. And the government will not pay for their scholarships. Berkeley (which will obviously milk Fed Ex for this) will have to come up with the funds. Truly the work of legal minds. This isn’t about adhering to principles of fairness, it is entirely about living within the “letter of the law.”

BTW (a term I seem to have used three times in my posts and 5 times in emails just today… the mind is getting tired), I remember that when university applicants are attempting to meet deadlines, they are given language that specifically states that the apps have to be in by January 1, and nothing, not an act of God (or Goddess, or secular entity), or war, or a late Fed Ex delivery will excuse tardiness. Maybe the Dept of Ed should look to academia for guidance in setting its application guidelines to avoid ambiguity. Dept. of Education -- academia, you’d think the two would keep in touch.

Astrology

Okay. The time is now. I have been asked in class, I have been asked in the hallways (of life), I have been asked repeatedly: do I think the constitutional amendment defining marriage as between a man and a woman will pass? I have avoided giving my opinion – possibly to make it seem like I have an inside track, or at the very least infinite wisdom on the matter. I have neither, but I will give my answer nonetheless (prompted in part by Ann’s blog, which gives the completely opposite answer): yes, if the amendment were to require a vote today, I think it would pass.
I don’t want to get into a detailed and terribly serious analysis as to why. Let me just keep it short and simple:

1. Ann (who speaks with a great deal of credibility here because she is, after all, a Constitutional scholar, and so I realize I am tip-toeing over terrain that is near and dear to her heart, whereas the Constitution is virtually silent on family matters, and the number of important Supreme Court cases addressing the family can easily be counted on the fingers of both hands, and that is only a slight, journalistic exaggeration) concludes that Americans treat the Constitution as an instrument that confers, and rarely (if ever) removes rights.

Answer: Maybe. But there are no words in the Constitution articulating a right to marriage (let alone gay marriage) and so we can’t really say that the amendment is “removing” a right. Only in 1967 did the Supreme Court even attempt to link marriage to a fundamental rights discourse. And, in subsequent decisions, it became clear that even though marriage is considered a fundamental right, the state may regulate it if it can demonstrate a compelling state interest. No one wanted to permit under-age kids, or fathers and daughters to marry with the state’s blessing. So, from day one, limits on who can marry have been acceptable. This train of thought is obviously not what the MA court chose to develop (in a split decision), but we are talking about the national read on the Constitution.

2. Many (including Ann) say that Americans are not that mean-spirited and they will not indulge this type of bigotry.

Answer: Americans are not inherently any more mean-spirited than anyone on the planet (except for a small contingency from some political... okay—off topic). But the reality is, I think, that Americans are made to feel that they are already giving in to things that run against their belief systems: they will feel themselves to be generous in granting same-sex couples access to some benefits. There are, after all, some 70 million Evangelical Christians in this country. Not to say that they ALL have uniformly strong feelings about gay marriage, but they certainly are under the influence of religious leaders who will not say kind things about this type of union. (n.b., did anyone read the story today about the woman in Texas who was arrested for having sex-toy Tupperware parties? The so-called "Christian" groups are a powerful force.) Can those that align themselves with the groups that repeatedly condemn same-sex marriage withstand the (almost certain to escalate) pressure to support the amendment?

3. One last point for now: there is the ever burning fear of the slippery slope. The perception is that the amendment is necessary so that other forms of marriage that are repugnant to our values wont also be pushed down our throats. Today = same-sex, tomorrow = bigamy. And why not (the argument goes)? The law is suddenly unstable here. Bigamous marriages based on religious beliefs have been rejected by the Court because of our adherence to a traditional belief system that favors monogamy. Oh-oh. That’s it? Gulp.

So, as of today, February 11, 2004, I am predicting that an amendment will pass. And, having said that, let me also say that many things can happen to change the mood of the country or to change my mind. Astrology is a tricky thing.

Now wait a minute...

Yesterday we got a really friendly call from a Clark supporter asking for our vote this coming Tuesday. Now what if that one call (and the fellow emphasized that he was NOT a recording, though our phone recorder recorded his call and so this then became an untruth, because he turned out to BE a recording – but I don’t think the misstatement is what caused Clark to withdraw), okay, sorry for the digression, what if that call had directed me to make up my mind once and for all, so that I was ready to throw away all literature on anyone else and plunge ahead in support of Clark? Where would I be now? It reminded me of the campaign requests you get from candidates AFTER the race, so they can better address their accumulated debt (and who is going to address MY accumulated debt?), though it is even more eerie to ask for my vote where there is no longer a "candidate" behind the name on the ballot.

Right on the heels of this I get in the mail a nice flashy card from Dean, all about how he and no one else is willing to stand up to George Bush. I liked the quality of the card, and indeed, in the photo, Dean appears to be standing, but I am thinking that my presidential choice wont have to stand up to Bush after next November because there will no longer be a Bush in DC. Instead he’ll need to be president. So I take the card to be a statement about what Dean can do in the next few months, that’s all. Interesting, but not persuasive as to ultimate leadership capability. But I will keep it in mind. I did like the fact that Wisconsin was the direct target for the card – the name of the state appears right there on the glossy front. State pride and all that. Also not dispositive, but very attractive.

Speed your way to bankruptcy

This, very buried in the paper today (buried, I suppose, because if you have stocks or caches of gold, you don’t want to give anyone on this side of the ocean legislative ideas):

Jussi Salonoja, the 27-year-old heir to a large sausage business, has been fined $216,000 for driving 50 miles an hour in a 25-mile-an-hour zone in Helsinki, the police said. The fine is believed to be the largest ever given for speeding in Finland, where traffic offenders are penalized according to their ability to pay. Mr. Salonoja's 2002 income was $8.9 million, Reuters said. The Finnish Internet millionaire Jaako Rytsola held the previous record for a speeding fine: $101,700. Walter Gibbs (NYT)

I’m really all for this: I mean, imagine the wealth we could tap into. And the headlines this would generate. And the smug satisfaction all of us would get from seeing rich people zapped by radar guns and being made to pay, pay, pay. [BTW, how does a traffic cop know if s/he’s cornered a wealthy person?]