Russell Shaw's Brainstorm Central

"Friends Don't Let Friends Become Suits"

Best bumper sticker I've seen in quite awhile. Noticed it around 7:45 p.m., on NW 23Rd Avenue in Portland, driving home with grocery bag full of Trader Joe's goodies.

I don't remember the make or model of the vehicle bearing the sticker, but I noticed the "Trekker" license plate.

Doubly cool.

Where There's Smoke...There's...Now What Was That Again?

I've just read an article that says cigarette smokers who perpetuate their habit in middle age find their memory loss speeding up.

I have my own theory. You have to be a dumb-ass to smoke, and dumb-asses are too fuckin' stupid to remember much of nuthin.'

Where There's Hope

Bob Hope turns 100 tomorrow.

While I did not support the Vietnam War, we have to remember that a very significant percentage of the soldiers who served over there did not choose to serve in the Armed Forces. They were dedicated, but they were in harm's way, and many must surely have lived under constant stress.

Laughter can mask stress in a positive way. Any guy who stands up there on a stage and makes his audience laugh, especially people who are putting their lives on the line, is all right with me.

Happy birthday Bob.

Bragg Rights

New York Times editor and Pulitzer Prize winner Rick Bragg got bashed in the journalism press for using stringers to do most of his research. In fact, he is being eased out of his job.

What's the big deal? I have worked in many news organizations where this practice has been followed. Occasionally, I have been the uncredited stringer, or have had to settle for a signature line at the end of the story while the staffer got the byline. This is also a common practice in news magazines as well.

I guess the New York Times bosses were looking for additional red meat after being fooled by Jayson Blair. I wish they hadn't hung Bragg out to dry on these trumped up assertions.

Not Such A Silly Love Song

Paul McCartney and his wife are expecting a child, the tickers say.

I know what it is like to lose a love to cancer, and then, to find love again. After wondering if you ever will.

Best wishes to the couple.

Scripted Courtesy

Every time I go to Safeway -- any Safeway -- and encounter a stock clerk in the aisle, I always get a cheerful hello.

While I am a socially engaging person, I can tell scripted greetings from genuine ones. If there was ever courtesy by edict in the supermarket industry, this is it.

Although I have never worked in the supermarket industry, I was a contributing editor for the largest trade newspaper in the grocery sector. This is an industry where employees are paid (poorly at that), to be robots. Unlike some more enlightened retail enterprises, there is no room for spontaneity. I mean, while Silicon Valley CEOs prefer to be addressed by their first name, the average grocery store manager insists on "Mr."

I know enough about this rule-addled, stifling and uptight industry to bet my bottom dollar that Safeway courtesy comes not from the helpful intent of employees, but from some policy edict handed down from the executive office, through regional and store management, and down to each worker. For, you see, that is the way these companies work.

The only redeeming value in this is that it forces some who are moody mumblers to develop rudimentary people-to-people communication skills. This way, those stockers and cashiers who are either moody slackers or jingoistic, born-again Christian patriots who think you must be a terrorist, a liberal, or a spiritually incomplete being because you look a bit too swarthy are forced to say hello to you.

Days Of Future Blast

I will tell you this. I fear that before very long, we will see our first suicide bombing, and it will probably be in a subway or other public place in NY or D.C.

"Oh, Mr. American, Osama Went That-A-Way"

Have you read the piece today that said the CIA is doing a "reassessment" of its pre-Iraq "assessment" that Hussein was aggressively far-along in WMD development. That, and all these terrorism alerts seem to be based on a combination of a)intercepts where we seem to have trouble telling low-level sympathizer bluster from actual high-level plot discussions; and b) our "analysis" of this infrastructure. It sure appears that what we are short on is real, live, "inside the plot" humint from covert agents.

And when we do get boots on the ground, a la the hunt for Osama in Afghanistan and Pakistan, it seems our guys, despite their newly minted blend-in beards, are getting their chains yanked. Less a matter of disinformation as blatant opportunism on the part of the locals. Seems like plenty of "I saw Osama last week, I will tell you where if you give me $20,000." Our operative hands over $20,000, and gets sent off on a wild-goose chase. So maybe the guy who took the money is just a snake-oil salesman, or perhaps someone getting rich by working both sides. Only our guys figure a nugget here, a nugget there can be matched up against each other to vette credibility, and even false info is better than none.

A Way To Give Back

The Thurston High School shootings in Springfield, Oregon, occurred exactly five years ago. Many students were injured and two were killed.

If you remember, Kip Kinkel was convicted of the crime, and confessed to killing his parents.

Earlier this week, I read that Kip's sister, Kristin Kinkel, is teaching at an elementary school in the Portland area, and had recently gotten married.

This bright and giving young woman lost her parents to violence, and her brother, who will be in jail for a long long time -- to evil. If anyone deserves love, she does.

I am so moved by what she has done with her life. She has become an educator, as her parents were. What a fitting tribute. And, as I understand it, she is teaching English as a second language. The skills she is teaching will help many young people fit into society, and help make it right.

Although I do not know Kristin personally, the course of her life points to a woman with a kind, giving, loving heart.

We need more people like Kristin Kinkel in the world.

Spinning Jen

I hope "Bachelor" Andrew Firestone and the lady he chose, Jen Schefft, find their way together. Millions of viewers agree with me. Not that I always listen to the masses, but in this case, I think they are right.

A Tax For The Schools

Surprised and delighted that the local option income tax, intended to fund schools, passed in my county 58-42. Bigger margin than I would have thought; we in Multnomah County, are, after all, the largest county in the state with the highest unemployment in the nation. A property tax boost also passed in Beaverton, a suburban city and school district that is one of the five largest in the state. There's hope yet.

Forgive Them, Copyright Holder, For They Know Not What They Do

Why don't middle-aged people like myself buy music? Why do younger fans buy music less and less?

I know something about this issue: once was a regular contributor for Billboard magazine, the music industry bible; taught music business courses at the college level; was a music critic for more than 20 years, written several books on newer music-distribution technologies, and have worked for some of these companies as well. Plus, my sociology degree enables me to understand what is going on here.

What we have here is a "perfect storm" scenario, but one rarely mentioned. For decades, the most enthusiastic music buyers have been younger fans...music purchasers have always skewed younger. Unfortunately for the industry, that is the exact same segment that is the most tech-knowledgeable, and those for whom emergence of KazAA, Morpheus, old Napster, etc., means music is not something you buy, it is something you get. To them copyright is just some sort of old school adult hang-up. Meanwhile, the older fans, like you and I, find less to attract us. People stick with the music they liked when they were younger, and when we get older, we, as a demographic, have higher consumptive and financial priorities than going to Blockbuster and buying 50 Cent, or even Dave Matthews, for that matter.

I Did Know Jack

Back a generation ago, in the late 1970s, I was a regular contributing record reviewer for Down Beat magazine. Although most of my dealings were with a literate yet wild and crazy editor named Marv Hohman, I did get to know the publisher, Jack Maher. Jack was a colorful, temper-prone, crusty, yet warm-hearted coot.

I remember at least two trade shows presented by the National Association of Music Merchandisers (now known as the International Music Products Association). Down Beat was there, and I worked on the show daily. The day after my articles ran, Jack would run into me in the press room, and hand me some greenbacks I desperately needed.

The magazine came to him via his father, a printer who assumed title to the "bible of jazz" to settle a debt owed to his company by a former publisher. Jack came to know and love jazz.

Jack died earlier this year. He will be missed.

Open The Mike To Mike!!

In the late 1970s, I worked with an empassioned editor named Mike Malloy. Mike was my friend. He was quite liberal -- in many ways, far more liberal than I.

Mike later went on to a modicum of talk radio success. What, a liberal on talk radio? Yes, he is facing strong opposition and bigoted presumptions, but that is nothing new for Mike.

Today's issue of Salon.com has a well-crafted piece on Mike's career and battles. Read it here. Interested? Follow the a link to his live stream on his site.

A Tax On Your Houses

Taken nationally, the accumulated budgetary deficits at the state level will reach record highs this year. State governments tell us the shortfall is largely due to declining tax collections in an ailing economy. Anti-government crusaders blame these deficits on poorly run state agencies, or bloated contracts and benefits paid to state employees and retirees.

Although there is some merit to each charge, there is a ready source of income available to help bridge this gap and restore needed services. Yet hardly any politician has the guts to propose it --raise real estate taxes at a rate commensurate with home values.

The January, 2003 issue of Kiplinger's Personal Finance noted that research firm Global Insight projected home values would increase an average of 4.4 percent nationwide this year. Even in recession-addled Oregon, that equates to a 4.8 percent increase in metro Portland, 4.6 percent in metro Medford, 3.5 percent in metro Salem, and 3.1 in metro Eugene.

But throughout the nation, real-estate taxes are going down, not up. Tax-cutting measures continue to pass, and furtive efforts to vote in even the most modest relief fail far more often than pass at the ballot box. The reason is clear: homeowners vote and renters do not. Nationally, the impression is that of a greedy and fearful landed gentry. They care more about their home values than the uneducated and the weak. Looking out for themselves, rather than even allowing for a more than incidental concern for the weak and the vulnerable, millions of our landed gentry view their increasing equity as a hedge against falling 401 (k) equity and other economic uncertainties. A hedge that must be protected at all costs, even if it means closing schools, firing teachers, and pitching the physically and mental ill out on the street.

The result is that we, as a nation, have rejected the notion that we are our brother's keeper. I fear this insularity, this selfishness, will get far worse before it gets better.

Don't even get me started on other key reasons for state budget shortfalls: health-care hikes due to unchecked markups by unregulated pharmaceutical companies, and the lingering economic effects of price-gouging, Enron-rigged, post-deregulation energy markets.

The Name That's Known Is Firestone, Where The Rubbers Meet The Road

Watch Wednesday night's episode of "The Bachelor?" It appeared that "Bachelor" Andrew Firestone, um, woke up with, all three ladies.

Andrew, you sly dog, you...

In The Hand Of The Beholder

After "listening to their customers, Wal-Mart said this week that it was discontinuing sales of Maxim, Stuff and FHM. These are magazines that according to the New York Times, "feature a mix of scantily clad starlets and bawdy humor."

But this is the same store that sells guns and bullets.

I am fighting the urge to get real preachy here, but I suppose we all have a right to decide for ourselves what is obscene and what isn't.

The Matrix? BFD!!!

I don't give a shit about The Matrix. I am a techie, and this flick is supposed to be the ultimate movie for techies, but I am not interested. Does that mean I am turning into an old fart?

Well, I am drinking coffee while working on my Web site, so I guess I still qualify as someone who leads a geek lifestyle.

Bo-ring

Sad that Lacy Peterson is dead, but get over it, Larry King! How many shows do I have to watch where your panel debates whether or not her husband is guilty? Enough already!! Try the guy and let that be it.

Scorpio With A Bad Case of Schadenfreude

Not all that long ago, a very rich man asked a woman out that I have had an off and on crush on for more years than I have fingers on my hand. A man who is far wealthier, stronger, better educated, and more polished than I.

I don't know if anything came of his advances, but I read that his organization was sued a few weeks back. Sued by another organization with even more resources than his.

Some call it schadenfreude, a malicious satisfaction in the misfortunes of others.

This guy never did anything to me, so why do I feel this way?

Pride. Jealousy vindicated. The sting of the scorpion.

I know you are not catching me at my best. But sometimes, when one is overmatched, it is reinforcing to see the one that you have been overmatched by become overmatched himself.

Keeping It In Perspective

You have nothing if you do not have your health.

Luther Vandross has had a rich life. His concerts have been attended by millions of swooning fans. Many of his fans have reacted ecstatically to his music. Lovers have wrestled as one to the sounds of his velvet voice. And as for Vandross himself, his physique bespeaks of a preference for fine food and fine wine.

But last month, he had a stroke. At 52. As of this post, he is still alive, but the odds appear slim that he ever will sing again.

One could say he has his memories, but his semi-comatose state belies that.

All the love, all the money, all the music, all the fine food and fine wine. It may buy him the best of medical care, but what does it mean now?

You have nothing if you do not have your health.

Two Mikes, Long Time Gone

I am gone from Atlanta for nearly six years. As a result, news of former acquaintances can travel slowly. This is specially the case with those who are or were not closely networked in to the friends I have stayed in touch with.

A little over a year ago, I learned that my writing colleague Michael Pousner had passed on in 1998. Ironic how that news came to me. I was in the foggy waking-up state one morning, and all of a sudden, a "wonder whatever happened to" crossed my mind about him. I went to Google, and learned of his passing of a heart attack. Subsequent investigation revealed that he had not been taking care of himself. I took that whole episode as a sign from The Force that I should do just that.

A couple of weeks ago, I learned that blues guitarist Mike Lorenz had perished in a car fire back in 2001. He always had a friendly hello for me when I ran into him at Blind Willie's, an Atlanta blues bar where I hung out in the early and mid 1990s. A good dude.

The world was a better place with both Mike Pousner and Mike Lorenz among us.