Zerk unleashed

Last weekend, as Dad and I crossed the Bay to Breakers finish line at Ocean Beach in San Francisco, we came upon a a figure so familiar to me I knew exactly what his next three words would be: "Happy, happy, happy." Yes, it was the Happy Happy Happy man, who spends every day perched atop an overturned bucket where Telegraph meets the Berkeley campus holding aloft a sign littered with conspiracy theories and rants against Bush as he chants the slogan from whence he earned his name (and said with a tinge of scorn, at least to my ears): "Happy, happy, happy." During graduation week, Julia's parents actually engaged with HHH guy, which is virtually unheard of, and he added something about "happy, happy, happy parents" to his usual routine. What was strange was to see this guy all the way over at Ocean Beach, with his bucket, since to me he belongs on the fringe of the Cal campus, in more ways than one.

And then today, I was doing some work in Au Coquelet, when I noticed another fixture on the Berkeley campus -- Yoshua man -- sitting at the table behind me. He was quietly highlighting his Bible, and taking miniscule notes on a scrap of paper, but his day job is wearing a blue T-shirt inscribed with "YOSHUA," yelling (can you guess this part?) "YOSHUAAAAAAAA!" as he wanders around Sproul Plaza, occasionally stopping to tell passersby that they're going to hell. It took all my strength when I saw Yoshua guy at the cafe not to stop and say: "Hey! Yoshua guy! YOSHUAAAAAAAAA!" Another maniacally talkative elderly gentleman passed by Yoshua guy's table and said: "What are you reading? Oh NO, not... RELIGION!!" and hightailed it out of there.

It's weird to feel some kind of proprietary bond to two guys I take pains to avoid, but I guess that's one of Berkeley's particular draws...

Speak Truth to Power

Robert Reich, the former Secretary of Labor under Clinton, gave the commencement speech at the Goldman School of Public Policy at Cal today. Margaret's been raving about this guy, who is now on the faculty at Berkeley, for two years, so I was pleased to be able to see for myself what all the fuss was about. San Francisco mayor Gavin Newsom was due to give the address, but he cancelled so as not to cross the picket lines of the administration's on-going labor dispute with its janitorial staff (it was almost uncanny, really, to have the G.S.P.P.'s graduation picketed by union members, and most of the graduating class wore stickers showing their solidarity). It was a bummer not to see Gavin's hair, but Reich is, indeed, a great speaker. From what Margaret said, his speech was a boiled-down version of his classroom challenge to public policy students in their honorable quest to change the world.

Reich enumerated four barriers to strong leadership: denial ("Global warming is a myth invented by Sierra Club loonies."), escapism ("Hey, as long as I don't have to smell ozone here in my subdivision, things are peachy."), scapegoating ("Listen, Schwartzenegger has four Hummers and Bush fires up a chain saw to slice his lunch meat -- So you wanna tell me this is my fault?") and cynicism ("I'm just a cog in this machine; there's nothing I can do or say that would make it go away. Aside from hoarding duct tape and Tang, that is."). These are obstacles that, as Reich framed them, even those of us who don't hold public office or a Masters in Public Policy can aspire to combat in our daily lives. Certainly it's encouraging to hear someone who knows of what he speaks remind us that complacency is not a core value. Now if only that idea could find its way out of academia and back out on the streets and Oval Offices of America, we'd be cookin' with gas.

WW RIP

I don't have any grand pronouncements re: the final West Wing, and no, I didn't wear black to mourn its passing, but I would feel remiss in not recognizing its impact. For those of us who've been in a serious state of discontent for the past six years, the Bartlett administration has often provided a soothing relief to reality, if only because it was filled with a smart, ethical and, dare I say it, swashbuckling (at least in Josh's case) staff . It was nice to see an Aaron Sorkin cameo on last night's episode, too, because despite his penchant for drugs and high-priced call girls (maybe in part because of them), Sorkin was a helluva writer. I know it's just a t.v. show, but damn, it was a good one.

The Undergrads (With apologies to A.H.)

On a college campus, you don't really need a calendar to know when it's the end of the semester because suddenly, as though summoned by zombie mind-control radiowaves, the undergrads are in the library. 15 weeks out of the semester, the library is dead, boring, quiet, and empty. But on the 16th week, it turns into a scene from "The Birds." There are undergraduates everywhere: every chair at every table is occupied, every study carrel filled, every computer taken, every bathroom stall inhabited. Unsuspecting grad students wander into the library -- which they do whether it's Spring Break or the day after Saint Patrick's Day or any given Sunday -- and have to step around the sprawled bodies, trying not to disturb whatever crazy equilibrium the undergrads have established with their hidden coffee mugs and their iPods and the books you know they've only just cracked today. The stacks are alive! Where did they come from??? Quickly now... just get your book... try not to antagonize them... that's right... now check it out, slowly, slowly... and... Now! Make a break for it!! Run! Run for your lives!!

Rorschach on Prime Time

There are excellent perks to having friends who've created a t.v. show -- finally, Rorschach (the Brenneis family's loyal black lab, may she rest -- or sprint through the living room endlessly -- in peace) has attained fame on "How I Met Your Mother."

On tonight's episode, Wesleyan insiders were treated not only to Carter and Craig cameos, but also to a lawyer and his firm named after five of Wesleyan's dorms: "Clark Butterfield, of Nicholson, Hewitt and West." Nice. Serious insiders may have noticed that the corporate dude running the dating service was named "Bob Rorschach." Awesome.

Not since David Letterman read viewer mail (I believe the text of which was "What's the deal with Oprah?") from Sara Brennis (sic) of Madison, Wisconsin have I felt so famous by association. When I'm a bigwig Spanish Professor, boys, I'll coin a new literary theory in your honor -- how about baysthomas historiographic emplotment? Or tomtomlordhavemercy isochronic dialogue? It's the least I can do.

Chocolate Caaaaaaake!

A few lucky readers of this blog (or people who date readers of this blog) sampled another entry in my chocolate cake-making project last night, and the reviews are in. It was good. The recipe was requested. So, for those of you not enjoying the leftovers right now, here it is:

Team Taboo Chocolate Cake

(née "Azo Family Chocolate Cake" from the NYTimes)

8 1/2 oz. unsalted butter (that's 2 sticks + 1 T. for normal people)
7 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped
(50% or higher cocoa -- I used Scharffenberger Semisweet, which is 62% cocoa)
5 large eggs, separated
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup flour
pinch of salt

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 9 in. pan (springform, but, again, normal people should use whatever they have) and set aside. In microwave oven, melt the butter and chocolate. Stir to blend.
2. In a medium bowl, stir together egg yolks and sugar. Stir in flour, then add chocolate mixture and stir until smooth. Using an electric mixer, whisk egg whites and salt until stiff but not dry. Fold whites into chocolate mixture just until blended. Pour into cake pan.
3. Bake for 25 minutes. Remove cake from oven and allow to cool for 1 hour. Wrap with foil and refrigerate until cake is firm and cold, at least 2 hours. Two hours before serving remove cake from fridge and bring to room temperature. Now, if you're a busy person who is running late to catch BART and can't wait for the cake to cool, chill and warm up, rest assured it will taste good even if you don't follow these instructions to the letter.
4. Slice (center of cake will be fudgy) and serve, with whipped cream or, even better, homemade ice cream -- plain is ideal, but vanilla would also be good. Enjoy!

"He's not that good with his Spanish"

Thanks to dl004d for alerting me to this fantastic article on Bush's consistent botching of the Spanish language and the suggestion that Bush sang the National Anthem in Spanish while on the campaign trail in 2000:

White House spokesman Scott McClellan said the assertion did not ring true to him because, "The president speaks Spanish, but not that well."

"I'm saying that not only was that suggestion absurd, but that he couldn't possibly sing the national anthem in Spanish. He's not that good with his Spanish," McClellan said.

Bush, a former governor of Texas, sprinkles his speeches with Spanish phrases, as he did during both his presidential campaigns, to show kinship with Hispanics.

You really don't have to know too much Spanish to understand that Bush's Spanish is abysmal. Another news article reported that Bush recently pronounced "coyote" in Spanish (referring to border smugglers -- see? He does care!), and that:

Mr. Bush took aim at Hispanics as an important voting bloc during the last two president campaigns. Mr. Bush has starred in his own Spanish-language advertising, and he was the first president to give his weekly radio address in Spanish. (The Spanish wire service Agencia EFE once said he spoke the language poorly, "but with great confidence.")

Pandering to Hispanics? Wow, those were the days.

Kerry's Spanish, for the record, was only slightly better, but Teresa made up for that by speaking 15 languages fluently. The Bush 'double' at the Press Corps dinner, who called Laura Bush "muy caliente," to my mind only reinforces the very plausible conclusion that Bush learned his Spanish through Taco Bell commercials. I think it's probably better for all concerned that he refrain from singing the National Anthem in Spanish until he's taken my 8-week intensive summer Spanish class. I can promise you, I wouldn't let him pass the class on attitude alone.

Does Ella Fitzgerald drive people to buy bread?

I'm having a strange sense of deja-vu sitting in Nabalom Bakery: they're playing the same Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong CD -- and that same song "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm" -- that I listened to ad nauseum while slinging baked goods at Breadsmith in Madison one summer ('95? '96? I got the job by telling them that, yes, I was considering dropping out of college to sell bread in Madison, so this wouldn't just be a summer job). The same CD... over and over... "the snow is snowing"... the smell of yeast... where the hell am I?!?