Pacific Gas & Electric Company: Hey you guys!

You hear of all sorts of fraud and shenanigans regarding power companies in general and PG&E in particular.  I remember a tale of a math teaching using an electric bill for math problems and even professors couldn't get the companies calculations to make sense II remember reading the story years ago but currently can't find the article in the amount of time I'm willing to spend looking for it).  It all seems a bit of smoke and mirrors, if not outright malfeasance.

So it came time to pay my bill this month and I decided instead to pay a call on PG&E.  Four voice menus and twenty minutes of hold time later (thank goodness for hands-free), a very polite and affable customer service rep gave me very pleasant replies which amounted to no answers.

Heres' the thing: in October when Dad went in to the hospital and subsequently died, I went home for two weeks.  When the roof was getting torn off in November, I went home for two weeks.  IN December, I went home for two weeks at Christmas.  I may have used up all of my leave, but I spent six weeks out of the past three months in Nashville.  That is to say, not in my apartment.  And yet each month, my utility bill increased over the months when I was actually there.  If I am not running the stove or turing on any appliances, it would reason that my consumption (not accounting for the vampire effect) would drop considerably, maybe even much as half.  But according to PG&E, these are actual readings from a meter reader.   There are no smart meters at my building yet, but we are scheduled for installation...sometime.

They are telling me that when I am gone half the time, I am using the same or as much gas and electricity as when I am there full time.

I'm calling shenanigans on this one.  There is something seriously rotten in the PG&E assessment and billing and it's not the sulfur they add to the natural gas.

I want my data entered somewhere.  These can't be honest calculations.   Surely there is some conspiracy-inclined investigator looking into such things.

Just putting this out there for Google should such be the case.

no snow

Man, it's like August out here. The past weekend has been sunny and about 70 here in SF. Where be the cold and the rain? Or more importantly to my friends who strap boards to their feet and pay a fortune to careen down steep hills, where the freak is the snow?

Via the SFist, Unofficial Networks asked a National Weather Service meteorologist to explain WTS (where the snow?):

Last year was a strong La Niña with the stationary high pressure further south and west of the coast allowing the jet stream and associated storm track to drop out of the Gulf of Alaska and bring copious amounts of precipitation to the Sierra. This season the La Niña signal is weaker with a high pressure ridge over the west coast allowing very little precipitation to make it to the Sierra. It is important to understand that La Niña can either be wet or dry and rarely brings average precipitation to the Sierra. There are other oscillations that couple with La Niña and have an impact on whether we end up with above or below average precipitation.

... It is very unlikely to stay this dry for the rest of the winter, but how wet it will get is extremely difficult to predict. La Niña is forecast to weaken and become more neutral into spring. Once we get the ridge of high pressure to break down or shift, we should expect more typical winter storms for the rest of the winter.

Bring on the gravel angels.

there's a frog in my throat

I love that this was sent in by an expat in Paris.

How to fake French:

advice for the inexperienced straight girl in the gay bar

My Baby's Got a Secret
Okay, it's a little hackneyed, and to me a bit meh overall, but there is a mostly entertaining post over at Gawker: The Secrets Gay Men Don’t Want Straight People to Know. The funny in it is that, yeah, it's pretty much all true.

From the bit:

We Have Our Own Celebrities
Straight people think, "Oh, the gays love Madonna and Lady Gaga and Kathy Griffin." Yes, it's true, but there is a class of gay superstars you don't even know about. You think gay people love Gaga? You should hear when a Robyn song comes on at a gay bar. Then it is fucking over. Don't forget the Scissor Sisters, anyone who was ever on RuPaul's Drag Race, Ben Cohen, cabaret superstar Mx. Justin Vivian Bond, or all the women whose careers we are personally keeping alive like Cyndi Lauper, Margaret Cho, and Sandra Bernhard. You may think you know what we like, but you don't even know the half of it.

We Don't Love Drag Queens As Much As You Do
Drag queens are great! Some of my best friends are drag queens, and some of them put on great shows. But we see drag queens all the damn time. You can hardly go to a gay bar without running into one who is "hosting," doing a lip sync number, running a contest, or just generally harassing people. For straight people it's a treat. It's fun and exciting and awesome. We're glad that you can be in on the campy fun, but don't hate us if we don't match your enthusiasm. Imagine if you took us to a straight bar and we were like, "Oh my god! They have the football game on the television over the bar. Isn't that amazing! That's so awesome. Look at that screen! It's so big and clear. Let's give it a dollar! Do you have a dollar? I want to tip the screen," you would think we were some crazy asshole. That's how we feel when you wig out (pun intended) over drag queens. Just clarifying.

I tend to rant about the "tourists," when I go out. I use "tourist" to refer to the self-important yet clueless straight people (usually young women) who take over gay bars and think they're all cool because they're in a gay bar (but cooler than the gays in residence? no.) and that the gay guys should cater to their whims because they are (1) girls and (2) straight, as if invading a gay space was some act of political or moral support on their part, and that gay boys are all just desperate to have a new straight girl best friend and she's going to be it. These are the people who treat a gay bar like it's a zoo. This is our home people. Show some respect. We are not your monkeys, but if you piss us off enough we are quite prepared to fling some poo.

The annoyance factor goes up tenfold if it's a bachelorette party. It's gotten so bad, the hot club and show bar in Nashville is adding a third, mid-evening drag show just for the bachelorette parties/straight kids in an effort to reduce the incursion of annoying gaggles of straight girls into the later show.

Honestly, the young-straight-girl-gaggle incursion is incredibly annoying. We're not grateful to have you here, and your behavior is deplorable. This is not a gay thing, this is an annoying straight girl thing. And before too many of my female friends get their collective panties in a twist, I am not saying that all straight girls are annoying; I am saying that annoying girls are annoying.

There are many awesome straight girls we love to hang out with and actively invite into the bar scene. (Actually, I consider these people women rather than girls.)  They've been to school and they get it. We are not their "gay friend" and they are not our "straight friend." We are simply and completely "friends." And they mind their manners when Out. As do we.

The girls I'm ranting about would be annoying in straight bars too. But while any room of men would consider these girls fucktards, the straight men might be willing to indulge their company because of their stimulating looks or the possibility of some penis-related action. Gay men are not distracted by your pouty lips or pushed-up breasts, and to many gay guys you are pretty much dick kryptonite. The guys are out having fun in the bar and you're pouring ice water down our pants, so don't expect the same treatment to which you are accustomed from other men.

Imagine you're with a bunch of self-centered bachelorette bimbos invading a sports bar on game night. Even if you're hot, there is a limit to what the guys will put up with for that sake alone. Don't push in front of the bar, don't bogart the wings, and don't block the view of the screen. The game is on, and we're here to watch it. It's guys night out, and you're intruding

I've said it before: gay bars are sports bars. We just have different sports. And none of them are you.

So, if you fear you might be one of these girls, if you have Googled "bachelorette party gay bar" and found this, or if you are a young straight girl who goes to gay bars and someone has sent you a link to this post, then pay attention: these are the three primary rules you need to learn and adhere to if you want to have a good time without getting your beads read.

1. You are a guest.
2. No one wants to fuck you.
3. Mind the bar etiquette.

You are a guest.
Behave like one. Enjoy the welcome but do not assert yourself. Do not be the fat, loud American tourist on European holiday.

No one wants to fuck you.
While gay bars tend to have a sexually-charged atmosphere, you have no power here.  No one will defer to you, and you are the lowest person on the totem pole. You are, at best, equal. Bigger breasts will not get you free drinks nor the bartender's attention. Act neither entitled nor haughty, that is exceptionally annoying and will win you zero attention other than loathing.

We're the queens, you're a bee.

Do not get physical or throw yourself at a gay guy because he's considered "safe." This cuts both ways: It is not okay for a gay guy to kiss/ touch/ molest you in any fashion without your express consent. Most men, even the gay ones, are fascinated with breasts. But if a gay guy reaches for your mammaries, it should come with either a go ahead from you or a smack down from his peers. It's not just incredibly tacky, it's sexual assault.

That being said, there are also plenty of fag stags around and you are encouraged to hook up with them.

Mind the bar etiquette.
Order your drinks from the well, then get out of the way. Do not block access to the bar. Do not be expected to be served out of order because you're a girl. Do not order a drink with more, at the most, three ingredients. If you are considering a blended drink, there better be a spinning slushy machine behind the bar.

Finally, while not a rule, my awesome gay-bar-going-straight-women friends would remind you to respect Dick O'Clock. There will come a tipping point in the nightlife of any gay bar where the inclination to hook up overcomes the inclination to socialize. In some settings, this may vary from a slight yet perceptible increase in the cruising factor to a marked increase in sexual energy if not an outright frenzy to get laid. When dick o'clock chimes, the girls work on leaving, and the guys get to work on leaving together.  If you pay attention, you can hear the ticking before the bell actually tolls.

Experienced friends sometimes invoke a code word or phrase.  This roughly translates to "I love you, really. But I am working on this bit of hotness here and it looks like it might go someplace naked, so our hanging out together portion of the evening has come to an end. Let me know if you need cab fare."

Tennessee Titans

Someone forwarded this link to me with the question, "Does this make you then son of a titan?"  This is The Nashville Scene's 2011 In Memoriam spread of the influential and notable people who will be missed ("Titans" is the word they used.).  My father, John Hardcaslte, tops the list under Business.  Betty Brown, all around awesome person and mother to my good friends Susannah, Nina and Eliza (and Martin 3), tops the list under Connectors.  Both passed this year, and both from the same kind of Parkinson's.  We've been through a lot and loss together.  And Nashville is the less for their moving on.

Business

JOHN HARDCASTLE
1936-2011
Real estate titan, H.G. Hill Co.

By Bruce Dobie

John Hardcastle combined a banker's manners with a historian's intellect, and that mix produced one hell of a delightful and agreeable man. With his wife, Fran, he was firmly planted in Aulde Nashville social circles, but displayed a driven intellectual curiosity and often thumbed his nose at convention — such as his participation, in 1976, in a re-enactment of the storied 1779 flatboat trip from Kingsport to Nashville that historians consider the founding of the city. Similarly, the first time I ever heard Hardcastle deliver a lecture, on Nashville history, he was dressed in a coonskin cap and other 18th century attire. If memory serves me correctly, he was channeling James Robertson. Perhaps "performance historian" would be an apt description of his metier.

Besides his passion for Tennessee history, Hardcastle was an ardent environmentalist, active in the early efforts to save Radnor Lake from development. He was also active in the Nature Conservancy. (At his funeral, a son offered the remark that while his father loved nothing more than sleeping outside in a tent, the only tent his mother ever really loved was the one enveloping the Cheekwood grounds once a year.) Professionally, Hardcastle started out as a banker but later was named president of the H.G. Hill Realty Co. Under his watch, the company developed the upscale project Hill Place on Post Road.

Hardcastle was an extraordinarily sociable man and had a fabulous laugh. In fact, just about everything he said seemed to start out seriously but then detour down a trail of good humor. At one point in his long slide into so-so health, I ran into him at the Whitland Avenue Fourth of July picnic, which he loved. He was dressed in a natty red-white-and-blue. "Age is getting to me," he said, taking a seat on a nearby bench. I then repeated to him what John Jay Hooker had told me, when he had turned 70. "When I woke up this morning," Hooker said, "I grabbed my penis and told it, 'Penis, if you were alive today, you would be 70.' "

John Hardcastle laughed so hard I thought I was going to have to call a doctor. At his funeral, a Dixieland jazz band played classics, and smiles broke out everywhere.

Connectors

BETTY BROWN
1939-2011
Environmentalist, philanthropist, progressive, single degree of separation

By Bruce Dobie

Betty Brown tended to a broad array of interests from her (and her husband Martin's) almost feudal spread out Hillsboro Road. Her agenda seemed to flow rather organically, although an official obituary would point to the fact that she was the founder and guiding light behind the Nashville Tree Foundation, which has planted thousands of trees here. There were other board memberships certainly, but most of her official commitments stemmed from a love of the outdoors. Friends often found themselves traipsing after her to inspect one or another wildflower on the family's property. Her environmentalism was, in many ways, her religion.

Because of her husband's family ownership of Jack Daniel's, Betty had standing the moment she moved to town. But from then on, it was her ballgame. Smart, progressive, unabashedly happy and willing to do whatever she wanted, she was a force. Betty didn't spend her time grooming future Swan Ball chairwomen. But the social arts were, in fact, her forte. Betty was a consummate and inveterate connector of people, always at the center of something. A visitor to her and Martin's house might find seated around the table a talking medley that included a congressman, an Episcopalian bishop visiting from California, and an environmental activist just in from the woods. Her summer trips to the family compound in the Canadian wilderness, attended over the years by dozens of thankful guests, were studies in how to make the difficult look easy. Betty's running buddies were a who's-who of literate, well-heeled Democrats, and at the Brown home they were often refreshed.

One time around Betty's table, someone mentioned a nasty divorce whose details were rocking the city. "Yes, they're negotiating here," she said nonchalantly. Activity often found Betty. She was comfortable in the fray. She loved spotting talent, putting people together, mixing it up. Her native Louisville pulled hard, but Nashville was where she invested her time and energies. An epic struggle with Parkinson's claimed her far too early. What we all would have given to see a vibrant Betty, 25 years hence, still presiding, the city's grande dame. She was buried in a wooden casket made from a tree felled on the family property. The gal had style.

books can take you to fantastic new places

And artist Guy Laramee makes that happen, appropriately enough for the literate, literally.

Check out these amazing landscapes carved from books.

Christ loves. Christians hate. W†F?

It's a bit of a long post but well reasoned, well researched, and theologically sound. The Reverend Mark Sandlin takes on the arguments/positions that the Bible and/or Christianity condemn homosexuality and exposes them as the unfounded and unsubstantiated excuses for bigotry, and hypocritical acts of hate that they are.

Pretty great stuff.

Clobbering "Biblical" Gay Bashing: Christianity and “Biblical” Hatefulness
By The Rev. Mark Sandlin

From Believe Out Loud.

It starts strong and goes from there:

We Christians are good at a lot of things. Helping others. Dressing up on Sunday.  Quoting scripture. Pot luck meals. Taking care of church members. Weddings. Funerals. Worship. But perhaps the thing at which we are the most persistently exceptional is misinterpreting the Bible then running amuck in the world because of it. Honestly, mad skills. And history backs me up on this one.

We have used the Bible to support, promote and act upon some pretty un-Christian things: slavery, holocaust, segregation, subjugation of women, apartheid, the Spanish Inquisition (which, no one ever expects), domestic violence, all sorts of exploitation and the list could go on and on. Oddly, if you ask theologians to pick one biblical theme to rule them all, most of them would say “love”... well, love and grace. Okay, love, grace and forgiveness. Fine. They probably would not specifically agree on a single term, but they would most likely name something that is, in every way, the opposite of the oppression, belittlement, hatred and marginalization represented by the numerous atrocities committed by the Christian Church.

Excerpts:

So, as others have pointed out before, we use the Bible as if it is a sex manual, telling us what is and isn't acceptable in the eyes of the Lord your God. Thereby delineating out those whom it is okay for us to judge, and toward whom it is okay to direct all kinds of nastiness and holier-than-thouisms.

The reality is that the Bible is not a sex manual. I know, shocker. Right? Actually, it's a good thing (depending on your particular level of sexual prudishness – personally, compared to the Bible, mine is pretty high). You see, the Bible not only promotes marriage between a man and a woman, but it insists that that marriage be within the same faith. Not only should a wife be subordinate (Ephesians 5:22), but she should also prove her virginity... lest she be stoned (Deuteronomy 22:20-21). Oh, and the whole thing would probably be much better if it were arranged (Genesis 24:37-38). And that's just the warm up act.

According to the Bible, if a woman's husband dies and she hasn't had a son, she must marry his brother and have intercourse with him until she has a son (Mark 12:18-27). Sometimes, biblically wives are good, but concubines are better. Many of the “men of God” were not only married, but at least three of them had more than one concubine (Abraham, Caleb, Solomon) and they remained “men of God.” But like I said, “biblically wives are good” and there's no such thing as too much of a good thing. Right? So, why not have many wives? God frequently blessed polygamists (Esau, Jacob, Gideon, David, Solomon, Belshazzar).

As far as sexuality and the Bible's perspective on woman as property and as slaves... well, as you can imagine, it does not get any better.

...

Sodom is referenced multiple times in the Bible as an example of great sinning. And what might that sin be?

In Isaiah 1:10-17 it is thought to be injustice, not rescuing the oppressed, defending the orphan, pleading for the widow. In Jeremiah 23:14 it is adultery. In Ezekiel 16:48-49 it is the sin of not aiding the “poor and needy.” In Zephaniah 2:8-11 the sin is bullying, boasting and pride. In the Wisdom of Solomon it is “the bitter hatred of strangers.”

The sin is not about being gay. It is not about non-straight sexual orientation. The sin of Sodom was lacking hospitality, not being just, bullying, hating strangers, not caring for those marginalized.  Funny, they are all things Churches (and individuals for that matter) sorely need to keep in mind and be better at practicing when it comes to how we do or do not welcome LGBTQ folk into our lives. After all, in today's society, who is more marginalized, more bullied, more treated like a “stranger,” than them? Come to think of it, not so funny.

...

Scholars have pointed to various reasons for ancient Israel's seeing male-male sex as taboo in Leviticus. It may be the same reason the rhythm method was thought to be wrong in the eyes of God, which presumably is that, as I have mentioned, they thought sperm contained the whole of life (how typically male-dominated-society of them). Therefore, in their way of seeing it, “Every sperm is sacred. Every sperm is great. If a sperm gets wasted, God gets quite irate.” On the other hand, it may be that they thought it was taboo because it went against their understanding that mixing of kinds, just like the mixing of two kinds of cloth was taboo. Male-male sexual relationships, in that way of seeing things, mixes up their understanding of gender roles.

Whatever the reason, the perspective in these clobber verses were based on an understanding of sex and sexuality that was just as misinformed as their understanding of the earth in relationship to the sun, of fish, of pork and of reasons for stoning children. In our scientific age, it is time to let go of archaic perspectives and start recognizing the things that are truly an abomination in the eyes of God: lacking in compassion and love, exercising judgment against others, and practicing and encouraging hate.

...
The rest of it is pretty holy too.

I've always thought of Indiana Jones as an homage to the classic treasure-hunting and jungle-exploring adventure films/serials rather than purely original ideas.

Another student of film had the same notion, and demonstrates how closely the "new" movie recreated the old ones by recreating the first 13 minutes of Raiders of the Lost Arc, shot for shot, using footage from earlier films from which it drew its inspiration.

American Courage

So you say you want a resolution:

NYD in SF

My good friend Ireland brought his boyfriend and three kids to the New Year's Day chili party. They went to another party afterwards and he sent me this note:

We went to another New Year's party yesterday and apparently Pollo was there. I only knew that because just as we were leaving, a 6 or 7-year-old came running down the hall saying, "Pollo's here...as a boy!"

I love this.

Happy 2012

Let's make it count.

As in past years, the holiday time in TN was too packed to post, even though there was ample material.

And the very special Annual New Year's Day Papa John's Black Eyed Pea Chili Party, was a huge success this year, of not also a huge expense, and it was the first year I didn't send out invitations but just made  Facebook event, and it was the first year I ran out of food.  I made a ridiculous amount of chili and four batches of cornbread, and it was gone so early.

And as I was manic host all day, I did not get much quality time with my lovely guests, and didn't get to take any pictures.

Next year:  (1) cauldron, (2) designated photographer, and (3) a sign-in sheet.  There were so many people and the day was such a blur I would love to remember who all was there, and get a better headcount as it related to bar and food consumption.

Thanks to all the lovely people who spent New Year's Day with me, and this might have been the best batch of chili yet! (I tasted it while cooking sure, but at the end of the day I never got a bowl myself—I even ordered take out for dinner as I was out of food.  Locusts!  All of you.)

Considering the emotional and physical toll of the holidays, I have never been happier toy get back to work.  And considering my recent creeped-out experience at the Hallmark Store while in Nashville, I'll leave you with this awesome image I stole from Regretsy.  Sort of sums up a lot of the holiday feelings.

If you know what I'm talking about

It's on.  Anytime after 1:00.

little bit of heart and soul

Overheard at Tribe's Monday night karaoke, hosted by Keith:

"Are you going to sing?"
"No.  This is my first drink."

Asked and answered.

And pretty much sums up karaoke night.

Hallmark channeling

Yipes. I was inside the enormous Katy's Hallmark Store in the Belle Meade area with Margaret, surrounded by post-holiday margin shoppers and way too many floral prints, offensive scenes, and God Squad merch. It occurred to me, this is what the inside of a Tomas Kindcade cottage must look like.

See also.

we don't need no stinking vadges

To the table next to us at Burger Up showing way too many ultrasound pics:

We don't need to see two dozen photos of the inside of your uterus at lunch.

Thank you.

(reference)

and to all a good night

As I snuff the candles and darken the tree, it's deeply sad to face that the fact that Santa doesn't live here any more.

Merry!

bad elf

I just passed a display of mini megaphones. Tis the season to blackmail siblings with small children.

The Word of My Year

Kummerspeck (German): Excess weight gained from emotional overeating. Literally, grief bacon.

Nom.

He just knows.

You better watch out.

Just sayin'.