Gentle Reader:

I am taking a leave of absence from The Oregonian specifically and newspaper journalism generally starting 1 June. I aim to return to my native land of Ohio to entertain Mom and Dad . . . and to see what kind of a writer I might become without the press of daily aggregations and other mindless busywork that now passes for "news writing." I have spent 30 years in this line of work, and I have earned parole. I know the recidivism rate for offenders such as myself is quite high, so it's possible I'll end up back in the joint. But for the foreseeable, I am going to breath fresh air.

In mid-June, Gryphon and I will load up the New Beetle (which Jesse named Otto), and we will drive to Cincinnati. I will provide updates regularly on this maximum journey.

I've never jumped off a cliff before. Feels kinda good.
A

H----- new year

Yes, it's been a while. If you care about these things (and I hope you've got a drop or two of concern, else you're wasting your time here, pal), Jesse died 9 July 2010. It's been wretched. This is a journey like no other.

Not perfect is the new black

For the past few weeks, I've noticed a weird little verbal tic creeping into the general river of conversation. Usually, it occurs when I'm in a purchasing situation, when someone is providing a good or service, and when I provide something as slight as a phone number, the immediate response is, "Perfect!"

Really? Perfect? What exactly is perfect? That I could rattle off my phone number to you without forgetting a digit? That I could respond to you at all? What, please, is perfect?

And then I have to relax. On the Left Coast, everyone seeks perfection, whatever that means. If they can grant you a little with the verbal pat on the head, then they're willing to help you feel better. This is, "perfection" is a damn scary thing. Everything else falls short. And I don't need that reminder, to be perfectly frank.

New favorite website

Courtesy of the awesomest astrologer in the university, Rob Brezney, my new favorite.

You will love it.

In defense of Helen Thomas

As if she needs any, as she's been duking it out with the big dogs for longer than I've been alive. But watching the hyenas giggling and drooling with glee over the end of her 60 years in journalism is beyond disgusting.

A rabbi at a White House event celebrating "Jewish Heritage" sticks a camera in the face of an 89-year-old newspaper columnist and asks for her opinion on Israel. She gives one that is entirely in keeping with her long-held and frequently expressed views, which have always ridden on the outside edge of the tiny, polite circle of words sanctioned for use in Washington.

This video appears on the YouWeb because the 17-year-old son of said rabbi apparently has nothing better to do than post videos of old women giving their opinions. Even more Jews take offense at this opinion, and they scream loud enough for her employer to give her the ax. (Anyone who thinks Helen would ever "retire" is dumber than dirt.) Then comes the truly courageous piling-on -- the canceling of a high-school commencement speech (to a largely Jewish audience), the ridiculous scolding from the bunny rabbits in charge of the White House Correspondents' Circle Jerk, then the shameful parting of the ways with her speakers bureau, which was created more than 20 years ago because Helen felt sorry for the woman who ran it and signed on as the only client.

Hooray for all you brave, noble sorts who believe you've struck a blow for Israel and for all Jews everywhere by mugging an old woman for giving her opinion. Then again, you all have been aiming at her for years. Because anyone who says anything that some Jew somewhere might find offensive must be drummed out of the human race. (You're not hearing anyone call her an anti-Semite, are you? A chocolate bunny to the person who can tell me why ...) Thanks, too, for all the spineless lapdogs of the White House "press corps" who ever rolled their eyes at a Helen question. Not a single one of you is fit to take obits.

Helen Thomas has done more for this country than most of the rabble inside the Beltway times 50. Unlike most of the jokers who claim to have any insight into the Middle East these days, she was actually alive when the State of Israel was created. She remembers that the chaos that flowed from that human act caused untold suffering and misery . . . and that the people who went to the newly formed State of Israel came from . . . oh, I don't know . . . Poland, Germany and America, to name only a few. So 61 years later, at a White House event celebrating "Jewish Heritage," here's a woman who is thinking about how modern Jewish Heritage came to be . . .

Frankly, I think it was damn brave of her to tell men wearing yarmulkes at a White House event celebrating "Jewish Heritage" that Israel should get the hell out of Palestine. But that's what you want in an opinion columnist -- someone who is going to give you an opinion.

I love you, Helen. Hang tough, girl.

Sickening

It's gotten to the point now where I can no longer bear to look at any video concerning the Deepwater Horizon spill. The sheer magnitude of this monstrosity is beyond my ability to contemplate. Truly, the word enormity applies.

Here's my problem: For the past, oh, 30 years at least, the oil companies have been all drill-baby-drill, soothing us all with promises that they knew EXACTLY what they were doing, that no catastrophe had gone un-wargamed, that everything was well in hand, so please just fork over the papers that will allow us to despoil habitat legally and go buy that Hummer right now.

Now we come to discover that when the Big One arrives, all the smarties in the oil bidness can do is scratch their asses and guess. Now, look, I get it -- the well's a mile below the surface of the water. It's not like you can just go down there with some Fix-A-Flat and get 'er done. It takes some thought. But . . . didn't you guys think about this one yet? What the hell?

And now, where are the smart people in public life saying: See? See? These people are the most cretinous liars that ever developed opposable thumbs. This is why we've been fighting them all these years! And now we come to find out that they don't even know what they're doing when a crisis arrives. Yeah, these are the people I want in charge of sticking things into Mother Earth.

Further, if the hempsters could put down their bongs long enough, now would be an excellent time to buy some prime-time TV space for an hour or so and make the big appeal that hemp can save the world, etc. etc. George Soros probably has a million dollars lying around waiting for a moral purpose. This would be a good one.

And on an unrelated note, a simple reminder to my old pal GL: Love is a verb, baby.

In my native land

All is well. Papa Bear moves much more slowly than ever, and it's difficult to stifle the overwhelming desire to burst into tears, throw myself at his feet and tell him what an amazing human being he is. But he shuts down at talk like that; he's 88 after all, and not especially in the mood for what can only be called a good-bye speech. Mama Bear bustles around with ridiculous energy. I sure hope I'm like that when I'm 83.