If BP Spilled Coffee

The BP guys seem to have finally stopped the oil leak. Oil spill? It doesn't really seem like it should be called a spill. Sure, there's ooze spilling out of the ground, but the oil wasn't really spilled, so I don't know what they're calling it (other than the biggest environmental F-up that one could possibly imagine). They are worried that the well is now leaking methane, but so are most senior citizens that I know, so I'm not sure how big of a deal that really is. Anyway, in honor of this disaster possibly being on the way to being cleaned up (they're never going to be able to "fix" it no matter what they say; we both know that), I present to you a video that you, quite likely, have already seen. It's what would happen if BP spilled coffee. Given the fact that the ocean is filled with a gazillion tons of goo which is now washing ashore in the form of, among other things, tar balls (and if you suspect that you have tar balls, please, see your doctor immediately), this imagined reaction doesn't seem so farfetched.

Bureaucracy At Its Finest

I, like the pelicans, enjoyed the Gulf Coast while it was not so oily. You know, back in the day. Like, March. But I have the feeling that those days are completely gone. It's become clear to me that it is no longer a matter of when the oil from the Deepwater Horizon oil rig disaster will be cleaned up, but it's a matter of IF it will EVER be cleaned up. Actually, I'll take that a step further. It's now a matter of anyone will be ALLOWED to ATTEMPT to clean it up. And if the federal government is going to have much more to do with it, the answer will be a resounding no.

Let me tell you what happened yesterday. Tell me if this does not make you just want to pound your head upside a wall and not stop until you lose consciousness and/or at least a pint of cranial fluids. According to something called the Associated Content and the more familiar ABC News, there really doesn't seem to be anyone in charge of anything. That's why Bobby Jindal, the governor of Louisiana (who seems to act like a distant relative of Kenneth the Page from 30 Rock on occasion) has spent the last ten days trying to get a bunch of barges out into the gulf so that they can begin sucking up some of the bazillion-gazillion gallons of oil that is ruining the ocean. He finally got his barges. He got sixteen barges. And they got right to work sucking up that oil. That is, until the US Coast Guard shut them down.

So here we have something finally being done and being effective in the way that that oil that shouldn't be in the ocean was being removed from the ocean by these barges. OK? That's a good thing, right? Naturally, with some progress (albeit a small amount of progress) being made, there had to be a pretty good reason for the Coast Guard to halt the work of these barges and send them back to shore, right? Well, that's what you'd think. But in this ridiculous, utopian world that people are trying to create, that's not exactly what happened here. No, the barges were ordered to stop sucking up the oil and to return to shore so that the Coast Guard could make sure that the barges all had fire extinguishers and life jackets aboard. Um, wait. What the what?!

You have got to be dry shaving me! Fire extinguishers?! Oh, right. Because if there had been fire extinguishers aboard the Deepwater Horizon rig when it exploded, a fire extinguisher would have been key! And life jackets?! Really? They're BARGES. THOSE are the reasons why you're having those sixteen barges return to shore? Where they would then SIT for another 24 hours?! What in the world is wrong with you people?!

Tell me this: Could the Coast Guard have not sent someone out to those barges to poke their nose around while the barge was at sea and was actively vacuuming up oil to do their little fire extinguisher count? Why did it take over 24 hours to inspect 16 barges? Couldn't they have just checked with whoever made the barges or whatever and asked them how many fire extinguishers and life jackets were provided for each vessel? Oh, well, sure. They could have done that. But apparently, they had trouble finding the barge making folks. So instead of having a barge out at sea without enough fire extinguishers, they decided to have all of the barges stop what they were doing, return to shore and sit there while the oil continues to wreak havoc on the once beautiful and once wonderful ocean.

This could possibly be the stupidest thing I have ever heard. And it's a perfect example of how the perceived necessity of over-regulation is going to be the downfall of this country. It's already proving itself to be the downfall of the Gulf Coast environment. Give it time. It will make its way to the rest of the land. I guarantee it.

Printers' Ball Project + Escritorio Publico + Gulf Tragedy Video + Apatowed Out

Last night I dropped by Columbia College Chicago's Center for Book and Paper Arts to participate in a project organized in part by Fred Sasaki, of the Poetry Foundation, pairing writers and print artists from the Printers Guild.  In combo, we'll be creating original pieces that will be displayed in an art book during the 6th Annual Ball, which takes place on July 30.  I've never attended, but I'm excited to have something included in the event. We were asked to bring an object which the printers would select to select us; I bought a baked good, a cookie (in the shape of a star). Food and a metaphor all at once. We were also suggested to bring a previously unpublished poem, something perhaps old but serviceable, so I brought a poem I've never published, but have tinkered with for years, "Serenade," finally getting it close to right, I believe, last December where I read it in English and, in translated Italian, at the poetry festival. It's a simple enough idea: each stanza of quatrains represents a season, represented by the naming of a month, seasonal tropes or metaphors, and an appropriate image; and it's a love poem and a serenade, so the words "I love you" repeat in each one. I used to worry that it was a bit sentimental, but as I get older I care less, I think (and reading up a bit on sentimentalism has also shifted my position a little). My Italian hosts got immediately that it was a "New York" poem--I have written poems or stories set in every place I've lived, save Charlottesville (none is forthcoming, and perhaps never will be)--which I hadn't really focused on, so it may be a bit jarring in a Chicago setting, but Big Shoulders, with its skyscrapers and business bustle and cosmopolitan diversity and slumlords and corrupt pols and rivers and sea-like lake and all can hang, so it should fly. I had my camera at the ready, so here're a few shots, one featuring two particularly great poets:


The printers' selection of our unique "objects" which led to their selection of us

Ed Roberson and Vladimir Mayakovsky

Ed and Fred Sasaki

More poets and printers (poet Lisa Janssen is in the purple dress)

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This sunny but cool afternoon I dropped by the first part of poet and translator Jen Hofer's "Escritório Público: public letter writing," at the 6-corner intersection near Chicago's Blue Line Damen Station. There she was, folding table bearing a typewriter before her, composing off the top general letters ($2), love letters ($3), and illicit love letters ($5), in English or Spanish, based on the participant's wishes and directions. She even offered a choice of colored papers and stamps, and provided a standard-size envelope. I sat, chose blue, and went with a combo of the first and second, recounting the events of the day and C's role in them, so the letter was to him. It was fun, Jen's skillful renderings really turned my thoughts into something poetic, and as we sat there, she typing and I watching, we drew a lot of attention, including some eager young people who filled the chair as soon as I got up. All the while, the temperature steadily dropped and music blared from restaurant speakers above us, and the El trains rumbled in the near distance. As for the contents of my letter, only a certain few people will see them!


Jen Hofer, composing away

The letter writer and yours truly

Wicker Park Passersby
> > >
The rest of this program continues on Saturday evening, with more participatory events to come. The info:

Red Rover Series
{readings that play with reading}

Experiment #37:
Public Words - Letters & Interviews

Featuring:
David Emanuel
Jen Hofer
Anne Elizabeth Moore

PART TWO: SATURDAY, JUNE 5th
7-9pm at Outer Space Studio
1474 N. Milwaukee Ave, 3rd floor
suggested donation $4

David Emanuel asks participants to assemble and write letters onto the pages of their own handbound chapbooks or zines. Materials will be supplied.

Anne Elizabeth Moore invites Chicagoans down to do a short interview about their city, lives, and what they think about the world. Know someone with a great Chicago story? Bring them or prepare to tell yours!



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This is what BP doesn't want you to see or journalists to talk about, and the images are from just at one beach in Louisiana:

Tragically, it's only getting worse as ecoterrorists BP and the government bumble along. Tomorrow, I believe, they're aiming for yet another Hail Mary....

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Okay. I get that Russell Brand is the (British-imported) laddish flavor of the month. (Who is Russell Brand?) But I still must ask Hollywood, can we not see more than 1-2 films starring Jonah Hill, or anyone associated with the Judd Apatow-Seth Rogen crew, if even that many, per year, please? PLEASE? There are millions of stories to tell that do not involve this gang or their puerile and decreasingly funny bro(m)-antics.  So please, Hollywood or someone else in the US with access to DV or film stock, create and distribute some other films. Please!