I’d already been planning to mention Tuesday’s “Democracy Now!” piece on the sorry state of the newspaper industry … widespread layoffs, drastic cuts in coverage and newshole, plunging stock prices with Wall Street devaluing the entire industry. Profit margins continue to be perfectly respectable, but because they aren’t as obscene as they had been in the past, newspapers are considered a sinking ship.

Most of this national trend is reflected in the sad state of the local newspaper, but so far my former employer had managed to dodge the layoff question.

Until Wednesday, when it laid off 16 employees – including eight in the newsroom. A great deal of knowledge, talent and skill is being given up in the name of profits. And the way in which it was handled was tacky, as is typical for that operation. Meanwhile, excellent workers left behind in a newsroom where morale is already low are made paranoid, for this likely is just the beginning.

Devaluing everything they espouse to promote: Attention to “local-local” coverage that can’t be found anywhere else; attention to detail in the eyes of that dying breed, the copy editor. Combined with drastic cuts earlier this summer in space for nation/world and local news, it almost seems as if the LJS is trying to put itself out of business.

Before the downward spiral started a little over a year ago, the stock price for Lee Enterprises, which owns the local “product” (they don’t like to refer to “news” nowadays, which should tell you something) routinely traded in the $30-$35 range and sometimes went as high as $40. As of this morning, Lee stock was trading at $3.20 (up from $2.98 a few days ago). One Wall Street blog puts 1 in 8 odds on Lee declaring bankruptcy by year's end.

Industrywide, the crisis is obvious terms of both international news – nearly all of the major players have slashed their foreign correspondent staffs, and the Boston Globe shut its international division down entirely – and in local news, which can be devastating to towns in which the local newspaper is the sole source of news that is more than an official press release.

Journalism once was considered the Fourth Estate, a nongovernmental check on the executive, legislative and judicial branches, without which a healthy democracy could not function. That’s not a view shared by the average American these days. But when there are no more journalists looking for the story behind the sound bite, we’ll all suffer the consequences.

And when there are no legitimate investigative news outlets left operating, who will the blogosphere plagiarize from?

Here are a couple of really good recent pieces on the woes of the newspaper industry:

At Truthdig: “Bad Days for Newsrooms -- and Democracy”

From Eric Alterman at The Nation: "I Read the News Today ... Oh Boy"

Wish I could stand in solidarity with my colleagues who haven’t yet given up hope, but the truth is I’m glad I jumped ship. I’m embarrassed to be associated with the current state of mainstream journalism, locally and nationally.

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Currently reading: "This Land Is Their Land: Reports from a Divided Nation" by Barbara Ehrenreich

Currently hearing: "Allegria," The Gipsy Kings

Don't let these men make your birth-control decisions for you!

Watch McCain squirm over a very basic question on women’s reproductive health rights:

McCain out of touch on birth control

Yeah, it’s kind of funny that he feels ill-equipped to comment on whether it’s right that insurance companies cover Viagra for men but not birth control for women. (Hmm, hitting too close to home there, John-Boy?)

But the reality is less amusing. In the Senate, McCain twice has voted against requiring insurance companies to cover birth control (a move that would not only improve women’s health but would benefit insurance companies as well, as it would help protect against future outlays).

And, meanwhile, he’s still riding out the storm over his old joke about women enjoying rape.

McCain Ape Rape Joke Recalled By Sources

Lovely. Yes, this is exactly who I want setting the tone for our country. Oh, and he’s for the Hundred Years’ War in Iraq, too!

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From a feminist blog I've recently discovered and like, here's some more scary news on politics and women's health:

HHS Proposal Undercuts State Birth Control Laws

The Bush administration is trying to push through a new regulation allowing any health-care agency that receives federal funds to refuse to assist women with their contraception needs. Most agencies receive some type of federal money, btw.

Think of what that would mean -- for the women you know -- and, oh yeah, men, too, 'cause from what I understand it takes one of each to make a baby. Think of what it would mean for your own already rising health-care costs -- contraception is a lot cheaper than covering the health costs of pregnancy and child-raising. Think of what it would mean when the needs and values of the majority are overruled by a handful of right-wing extremists.

Intolerance unveiled.

Did you read about the Moroccan-born woman who was denied French citizenship because she chooses to veil her face?

Read it here: A veil closes France's door to citizenship

The idea of the veil stirs mixed emotions in me, of course. I detest the idea of a woman believing it is necessary to hide herself. And I try hard to believe that men are trustworthy enough creatures that we needn’t worry about fanning the flames of their lust as we simply go about our daily lives.

I don’t like the concept of the veil.

Yet it is not for a free, democratic society to tell a woman she CANNOT wear the veil. Certainly it can decree that no one else can force a woman under the veil. Certainly it may advocate the tossing aside of the veil along with other misogynistic concepts. But in telling this woman she cannot exercise her free will, France aligns itself with the very same strictures it seeks to outlaw.



Below the surface.

I’d not heard of Kay Ryan before she was named poet laureate last week. In browsing through some of her work, I felt this one particularly speaking to me:

Surfaces
By Kay Ryan

Surfaces serve
their own purposes,
strive to remain
constant (all lives
want that). There is
a skin, not just on
peaches but on oceans
(note the telltale
slough of foam on beaches).
Sometimes it’s loose,
as in the case
of cats: you feel how a
second life slides
under it. Sometimes it
fits. Take glass.
Sometimes it outlasts
its underside. Take reefs.

The private lives of surfaces
are innocent, not devious.
Take the one-dimensional
belief of enamel in itself,
the furious autonomy
of luster (crush a pearl —
it’s powder), the whole
curious seamlessness
of how we’re each surrounded
and what it doesn’t teach.


Mixing it up.

In one of the many time-sucking, space-filling, procrastination-aiding tasks I have set myself this summer, thus successfully avoiding such worthier pursuits as learning the language I’ll need for the next two years or losing 20 pounds through daily 40-mile bicycle rides, I’ve been entertaining myself with the creation of new mix lists. To wit:

Waiting for Peace (Corps): Becki’s Summer ’08 mix
(tunes I’m listening to lately – some new, some old, some relevant, some not)

Wake Up / The Arcade Fire
Nothing'severgonnastandinmyway (Again) / Wilco
Play / Kate Nash
In Step / Girl Talk
I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You / Black Kids
When the Day Met the Night / Panic! At the Disco
Candy / The Self-Righteous Brothers
I Like It, I Love It / Lyrics Born
Ooh La La / Goldfrapp
L3t Teh Be34t C0ns013 Yov (Pewep Merix) / Tilly & The Wall
It's the Beat / Simian Mobile Disco
Bust a Move / Young MC
Think Afrika / Seun Kuti
The Electric Version / The New Pornographers
Natural's Not In It / Gang of Four
Dissolved Girl / Massive Attack
Ramblin' (Wo)man / Cat Power
Excursions / A Tribe Called Quest
Adventure / Be Your Own Pet
say i am / Tom Tom Club
I'm The Toughest Girl Alive / Candye Kane
The Future Freaks Me Out / Motion City Soundtrack

Noisy Summer mix
(fairly obvious, I think)

Noisy Summer / Raveonettes
sunshine and ecstasy / Tom Tom Club
Summer Daze / Luscious Jackson
Another Fine Day / Golden Smog
The Summer / Yo La Tengo
Blister in the Sun / Violent Femmes
Sunshine / The Meat Purveyors
Broken A/C Blues / Duane Jarvis
Ice Cream Cone / The Tijuana Gigolos
Machines of Summer / Drive-By Honky
Sun In My Mouth / Björk
Summer In The City / Regina Spektor
Asleep on a Sunbeam / Belle & Sebastian
Beneath The Blue Sky / The Go-Go's
Summer Teeth / Wilco
Sunshine / Floetry
Sunday Sun / Cinematics
Looking at the Sun / Matthew Sweet
It's Summertime / The Flaming Lips
Red Sun / Neil Young
Sunset / Kate Bush
Starlit / Erin McKeown

Under the Covers
(cover tunes you might not have expected)

Smells Like Teen Spirit / Tori Amos
Oops! ... I Did It Again / Richard Thompson
Yo vivire (I Will Survive) / Celia Cruz
Love Will Tear Us Apart / Nouvelle Vague
Stand by Your Man / Lyle Lovett
She's a Lady / The Self-Righteous Brothers
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction / Cat Power
Every Rose Has Its Thorn / Rex Hobart & the Misery Boys
Shine / Dolly Parton
Joy / Bettye LaVette
Comfortably Numb / Dar Williams w/Ani DiFranco
Rebel Rebel / Seu Jorge
Wooly Bully / Billy Bacon And The Forbidden Pigs
The Hokey Pokey / Brave Combo
Breathless / X
Good Lovin' / Grateful Dead
Ain't That Peculiar / Chocolate Genius
Let's Get It On / Jack Black
Gloria / Patti Smith
Baba O'Riley / The Waco Brothers


Quote of the day:

"I arise in the morning torn between the desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." — E. B. White

Music, man.

Amy and I indulged in a bit of cultural whiplash on Saturday evening. First, we took her young’uns to “The Music Man” at Pinewood Bowl. I’m not a fan of the theater … especially local productions … most especially musicals … and “The Music Man” is right at the bottom of the genre, as far as I’m concerned.

But we had such a great time. In my 20 years in Lincoln, I’ve never done the Pinewood Bowl thing, so it was nice to cross that off my life list before I leave. It’s a gorgeous setting, everyone’s friendly and laid-back, and the company couldn’t be beat.

We ducked out as the actors were taking their bows, rushed the kids off to a sleepover, and Amy and I managed to get down to the Zoo Bar’s outdoor anniversary block party in time to hear half a dozen of the Self-Righteous Brothers’ greatest hits. They still put on a kick-ass show … their classic cover of “She’s a Lady,” the originals “Candy” and “Have Fun With Your Penis,” and a thumping version of “Billie Jean.” I want Mr. Righteous and Sonny Righteous to teach me how to dance. I want the band to get back together.



Books, not bombs.

Nicholas Kristof’s oped column Sunday referenced Greg Mortenson, subject of the book I just finished (see my Goodreads review), “Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Fight Terrorism and Build Nations ... One School at a Time.” It’s a pretty startling juxtaposition: Bush promises $10 billion (so far) to Pakistan so its military will stay friends with our military, so we can keep bombing the hell out of families, schools and communities in the name of “fighting terror.” Mortenson hasn’t a fraction of the military complex budget, yet he’s well on his way to transforming society in rural Pakistan by building schools so everyone can get an education and not feel the need to resort to terror.

Who would you rather have in charge?


He's not really a girl, and he doesn't really talk. Well, he kind of raps.

My new summer soundtrack is “Feed the Animals” by Girl Talk, aka Gregg Gillis. He’s like the William Rice Burroughs of mixmasters, pouring out a plethora of pop favorites from the ‘60s through the aughts, cutting them up and mashing them back together into something brilliant. If you think Salt N’ Pepa, Deee-Lite, the Traveling Wilburys, Nirvana, Earth Wind and Fire and the Beach Boys (and more) can’t be combined into a brilliantly danceable new single, then you haven’t heard Girl Talk.

Quote of the week:

"Goodbye from the world's biggest polluter!"
-- "President" George Bush on leaving the G8 summit where next to no agreement was reached on the need to adapt to the climate change crisis.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/2277298/President-George-Bush-'Goodbye-from-the-world's-biggest-polluter'.html#continue

Who, me, worry?

The Peace Corps excitement never ends!

I got another (automated) email this morning alerting me to a change in my application status. Try as I might when I accessed my account online, I could not find anything that change. Still shows me as an invitee to Morocco, with no holds on my ability to serve.

Still, at this point I'm pretty paranoid, so I contacted just about everyone I could find at headquarters on a Friday afternoon. My country officer and medical/dental/legal contacts all said I look fine. So it must have been a glitch.

Good to know, however, that my country officer is so prompt and helpful, as were the other staffers. Best of all, I seem to have a new and much more helpful contact in the medical office, which is a great relief.

Another Peace Corps opportunity.

In related news, I may have a chance to write for the PC web site while I'm in Morocco. I've been corresponding with a returned Morocco volunteer who, like me, joined PC after two decades in the journalism business. Now he's in the communications department at PC headquarters.

Got an email from him the other day. The PR staff is looking for someone who could write regularly for the web site, from training through the two years of service. Mark said he immediately thought of me, and could he forward my info to PR?

Hellyeah, I told him. What a cool possibility.

Fun fact of the day:

While Morocco's move toward independence from France actually began earlier, the country celebrates its Independence Day on Nov. 18, commemorating King Mohammed V's return from exile in 1955.

And we all know what critical world event happened on Nov. 18 a mere 12 years later ...

Quote of the day:

“He who knows only his own country is like a man who reads but the first chapter of a book.”
– St. Augustine

Currently reading:

"Days: A Tangier Diary" by Paul Bowles

"This Land is Their Land: Reports from a Divided Nation" by Barbara Ehrenreich (just offered to write a review on this for that newspaper I no longer wish to associate with. Hm.)

Break down bombs, don't build 'em.

The Senate Appropriations Committee is slated to vote this week on more funds for the Reliable Replacement Warhead (RRW) program. The U.S. should be leading the charge in destroying existing nuclear weapons, not making more of them.

Nebraska Sen. Ben Nelson is on the committee. Please take two minutes to contact Nelson's office and encourage him to vote against the funding.

The Nebraskans for Peace web site has good background info for talking points in your letter/phone call to Nelson.

Send your feedback to Nelson's office by calling (202) 224-6551 or (402) 391-3411 and/or emailing senator@bennelson.senate.gov.

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Two months from today (inshallah), I'll be getting on a Morocco-bound plane with my fellow Peace Corps trainees. Still doesn't feel real, and I suppose that until I get on that plane, it won't. Too afraid of having the (Berber?) rug pulled out from under me again.

The Darija (Moroccan Arabic) lessons have me thoroughly intimidated. I just keep looking and listening, in hopes that eventually the strange shapes and sounds will begin to make sense.

More inspiring is the book I'm currently reading, "Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Fight Terrorism and Build Nations ... One School at a Time." While the narrative journalism style (by a ghostwriter) is more than a bit overwrought, the idea of a slacker creating first a single school in remote Pakistan, and then an entire institute devoted to creating educational opportunities in areas where none have existed ... with a special focus on making sure girls have equal access to schooling ... well, it's providing me with plenty of ideas for projects and collaborations.

I've been waffling lately about my mission in Morocco. Not really a "developing country anymore, is it? And the outline for my program is so vague as to sound as if I won't really be "doing" anything. (Anything except teaching English, that is, and I further have to wonder how English is going to help the average underpriviliged Moroccan youth.)

But if so many rural people are living in poverty, and especially if I have a chance to help improve the futures of girls and women in a society that currently devalues them, then I have to believe it's a worthwhile mission.

Meanwhile, with slightly more disposable income than I'd anticipated for my summer sans employment, I just booked one last flight to Tucson, Aug. 12-19. Need to get my desert survival skills up to snuff, dontcha know. We hope to make a side trip down Mexico way in celebration of Miz K's birthday.

How fortunate I am to be living this life.

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Quote of the day:

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.
You feel it, don't you?
-- Rumi

"The majority of the world's farmers are women."

Betcha never thought of that, didja?

Most governments and individuals don't, either. In much of the world, women can't even own land -- but they're expected to do the sowing and the reaping, along with everything in between.
These small-scale experts, feeding their local communities, are the model the rest of the world should be following, not the other way 'round. But if local and global policies don't combine forces to help these women stay in business, we're headed for famine on a large scale.

Check out this article from the Progressive:

Solving the global food crisis starts with women’s rights

The current food crisis is on the agenda as the G8 summit begins Monday. Will your local news media, via mainstream media wire services, cover the summit from a human/human rights perspective or from a corporate one?

Mix it up on the Fourth: A DIY list.

Seems I don't actually make mix tapes anymore, but I do still like to think them up. Here's my suggestions for marking this holiday, which I call ...

Independence ... For Whom?

Songs of Freedom / Bob Marley
Red White and Blue Dream / Kimya Dawson
Freedom Rock / Frank Black
Rocket from a Bottle / XTC
Reject All American / Bikini Kill
Bomb the World / Michael Franti
Fireworks / Animal Collective
Bad Politics / Yo La Tengo
The Government Totally Sucks / Tenacious D
Red Eyed and Blue / Wilco
Revolution / Bob Marley
Peace In Our Time / Ray Davies
I’m Free Now / Morphine

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Seems I'd forgotten one of the biggest perks of no longer being employed by the MSM (mainstream media) industrial complex: I'm free to publicly say whatever I like about whatever I don't like.

To that end, be careful out there this Fourth -- don't step in the muck being tossed around by the so-called Nebraska Civil Rights Initiative, as they make a last-ditch effort to get a ban on affirmative action on the November ballot. Nebraskans United's web site has information on how to report unruly petition circulators, as well as a link to remove your name if you unwittingly signed the petition, believing it was actually about equal rights.

Earlier this week, I went to a discussion at the Coffee House led by the publisher of one of my favorite 'zines: Bitch. She's on a driving tour across the Midwest, collecting input from readers. It was so inspiring to hear a group of mostly just-post-college-age women wax enthusiastic on the "F" word (feminism, that is) and what we could and should be doing in our communities. A couple of older women as well, including the proud grandma of one cool young dyke who is successfully introducing diversity education to the insurance giant where she works. And a nun from an apparently extremely strict sect (here in Lincoln, she's an order of one) who did her best to proselytize, and I was so proud to see the rest of the group turn not to hatred and division but to an attempt at inclusion.

My new living room.

Settling into my new temporary home and a slower pace of life. My favorite feature at the Bookstore Maven's former abode is the front porch. Deep, secluded and shaded, with a romantic swing and a separate seating area, fringed by twisting honeysuckle vines and protective conifers. I take most of my meals out here and am re-learning my childhood habit of whiling away entire hours immersed in other lives, entered via a stack of library books.

My other living room is the coffeehouse of the day, so I can indulge, briefly, my Internet obsessions. I try to mix the location up a bit from day to day, so I don't become "that weird lady who's always at Xxxx." But with Meadowlark and Jones each just a few blocks away, I usually end up at one of those locales. So maybe I'll become "that lady" yet. Everyone needs a goal.

Funny how uncomfortable it's been, at first, to not really have anything "to do." Plenty to do, actually -- just no immediate daily obligations, unstructured by the lack of a day job. (Don't worry too much -- I do seem to be settling into it.)

Actually, the whole situation is more than a little reminiscent of my summer in Oaxaca. Walking (or, here, biking) as my main mode of transportation brings me more in tune with my surroundings; I spend a good deal of time outside, reading or writing in my journal; I have plenty of time for friends and for contemplation of What Comes Next.

(Unfortunately, the similarities to Oaxaca do not extend to an inability to comprehend the language floating all around me, making it more difficult to ignore the whiny children and shouted conversations that seem to have become accepted aspects of coffeehouse culture. )


Foot power as my mode of transportation: Yes, the Saturn is gone; my lease was up at the end of June. I briefly thought about asking whether I could rent it for just a couple more months. But then I thought, um, Why? Why spend all more money I don't have, when everything I really need is really quite accessible from where I am? Bonuses: I can indulge the smug attitude of no longer being part of the carbon footprint problem, and my thighs will be rock hard by the time I leave for Morocco! (Hey, a girl can dream ... )


Been spending a lot of time lately thinking about What I Really Need. Materially, that is. I was so proud of myself for downsizing as I moved out of The Bungalow Formerly Known as Lola. (Aside: What's my deal today with Capitalizing Everything?) I got rid of most of my furniture and sent boxloads off to Goodwill. Yet I was still only barely able to squeeze the material manifestations of my former life into a spare bedroom larger than the average storage locker. What the above photo fails to show is the two rows of boxes, floor to ceiling, behind the miscellaneous detritus. Books, mostly. Books I've either already read or likely never will. To keep them has far more to do with vanity and emotional attachment than with actual need. Maybe that's true of the rest as well?

Then, moving into my temporary digs, thinking I'd really pared down to the nitty gritty -- only the things I'd really need for the next two months. Even so, that came down to about a dozen boxes and a couple of suitcases. A dozen boxes for two months? Really? Well, no -- not really. Most of it is already stowed in a back closet. Much of the rest is dribs and drabs of toiletries that don't really do anything. And then there's the dishes and glassware I inexplicably keep breaking -- that'll really cut back on the need to repack.

Maybe it's all practice for the next step: two bags for the next two years in Morocco. Even then, from what I hear via former Peace Corps vols, much of what you bring ends up never leaving the suitcase.

Or maybe it's all practice for moving on in life ... paring down, offloading the no longer necessary in favor of what's really important. A life well-lived needn't be proved by overaccumulation.

A friend yesterday was telling about visiting an antiques store overstuffed with ... stuff. Not antiques, just stuff. Old shot glasses, action figures, Wheaties boxes.

"What do you collect?" the woman behind the counter asked. Shocked she was to find out my dear friend doesn't have rows of bobbleheads or spoons or commemorative plates holding up the

"Memories," I told my friend. "Next time, say you collect memories."

Quote of the day:

“The curse of the human race is not that we are so different from one another, but that we are so alike.” – Salman Rushdie, “The Enchantress of Florence”