Mar 212007
 

As you recall from my Virtual Vigil post a while back, Zilla Huma Usman, a minister in the Pakastani governament was murdered as she stepped out of her car to attend a speaking Engagement. Mohammad Sarwar was taken into custody and he was quoted as saying that he killed her because she did not conform to the Islamic dress code for women and that women should not have positions of power.

It would seem that his guilt in the matter is pretty obvious. But the same man had confessed to the murder of 4 prostitutes some years ago but was released for “lack of evidence.” So it was not at all obvious that justice was going to be done.

I’d set up my virtual vigil, a Google News Alert, to watch for news of the trial. I’d been a bit disappointed because after the initial flurry of reports about the incident, there was very little in the way of new about how and if the wheels of justice had been turning.

Today brought some good news. Press TV reports “Pakistani sentenced to death for killing lawmaker.” So the wheels of justice actually moved fairly quickly on this case. I believe it was only about a month after the murder that he was convicted. I only hope the execution of justice is equally swift.

I have been very pleased with using the Google Alerts as my “virtual vigil.” If I had not had that set up, I never would have heard of the results of the trial. It would have been very tough for me to monitor news sources every day to find breaking news of this story. I never heard of Press TV until it showed up on the news alert.

Cafe Prueckel

 Posted by on March 19, 2007 at 10:00 pm  true stories  No Responses »
Mar 192007
 

I’ve been in Vienna, Austria for the past two days attending the European Computer Audit and Control and Security Conference. I’m doing a presentation on the Payment Card Industry Data Security Standard and generally soaking up knowledge about how auditors think. Mildly creepy.
Alas, due to work deadlines and conference schedules. I have barely had the chance to poke my head out the hotel doors so far. Until tonight.

Tonight I managed to do my first Austrian thing. I ventured out of the hotel and wandered a couple of blocks til I found a Viennese coffeehouse called the Cafe Prueckel. I wish I had the words to describe it. It was built in 1909 and had very high ceilings, maybe 15 feet high and you could tell that at one time it had been very elegant but now it was kinda run down and beat up. It had 1950′s era furniture, thread bare couches and formica tables. Weird. It was full of folks visiting and reading the newspaper and surfing the net from their notebook PCs. etc. There was a woman playing a piano. Like most such places, there were piles of freebie zines and newspapers to read. None of it in English alas. There was also a table full of lobby cards for various events coming to the area. Again. Nothing in English. There was modern art on the walls, which I can only characterize as pseudo-abstract-edgy-impressionist.

Unlike most coffee houses in the US, This one had waitstaff. And they were dressed in formal attire, which was kind of bizarre considering the slightly downscale feel of the place. Seeing the waiters running around, I figured that you had to wait to be seated. So I hung around the front door. After a few minutes it became obvious that no one was going to seat me so I stopped a waiter to ask what the drill is. I apologized for only speaking English and I asked him could I sit down anywhere and he said sure. So I picked out the a spot, near the piano, which turned out to not be the best spot for people-watching. But it was OK. The waiter brought me a menu, which alas, had nary a word of English on it. So I asked the waiter if I could have a cappuccino and he said of course. Then I asked him about dessert. Well, this pushed him past his command of English, so he motioned for me to follow him to the dessert case. I scanned through a bunch of stuff, but the one that caught my eye was sachertorte. I’d read in my tourist guide book that it was a famous dessert in Vienna from back in the day. So I ordered that. How to describe it. The closest I can say is that it reminded me of German chocolate cake infused with a strong apricot flavor. Yum!

So I went back to my table and listened to the woman playing jazz standards that I couldn’t quite name. I snuck peeks at the other folks in the place when I could. Very good vibe. It was a Meeting Place. Definitely a hangout where friends met and visited. It’s one of those places where the people make it worthwhile. The slightly dingy beat up decor, the crazy art, the bizarre music were all just backdrops for the real reason for being there, which was the other people.

I wished that I’d had my camera so I could take pictures. I wished that I’d had my recorder so I could sample the ambiance and the music. I wished that I’d had my notebook PC so I could write down my thoughts right then and there. But I had none of these things. So I just sat and took it all in.

I remember thinking to myself, “this is authentic, this is the real deal.” as if somehow my hangouts back home aren’t the real deal and aren’t authentic. But that’s not true. Some are and some aren’t. And I kinda got an inkling about what separates the authentic places from the not-so-real. I figured it out based on my interaction with the waiter. Despite his very limited English and my non-existent German, he managed to make me feel at home. He took his time helping me order. He went above and beyond the call of duty helping me pick out a dessert. And more importantly. He did not rush me to finish and get the hell out. I could have sat there all night and it wouldn’t have bothered him a bit I don’t think. He never once offered to brig me my bill. Nor did he keep checking on me every 5 minutes to see if I needed/wanted something more. In the US I would have called it bad service. And yet in this case, it didn’t feel like bad service at all. Maybe it was because he was always somewhere nearby. It’s not like he disappeared into the kitchen for long stretches of time. I eventually noticed that people had to ask him to bring the check. So that’s what I did too. The thing that made the place seem so authentic. The defining characteristic for it seems to be that you feel welcome to stay as log as you like.

When I think back to all the coffee places I hang out at back home, the stay-as-long-as-you-like criteria does seem to do a pretty good job of sorting out the good places from the bad. You might think this criteria would cleanly separate the independent places from the corporate chain places. But that’s not 100% the case. I can think of two coffee places in Chapel Hill alone that are proudly independent but are too cramped or otherwise uncomfortable to actually visit with friends. Likewise. I know of at least one Starbucks which is staffed with the friendliest wage slaves I have ever seen. They practically insist on getting your life story before you order your drink.

So now I’m torn. Do I go back or not? Will the repetition of going a second time ruin the experience? Will I feel bad for having wasted a night repeating something when I could have been exploring some other part of the city? Will I feel like too much of a tourist if I show up with camera and recorder and laptop? If I go back again and make a better choice of seating location, will I have the nerve to strike up a conversation with the intriguing woman reading something on her Mac Book? And will she know even a word of English?

Defending Down Home Hillary

 Posted by on March 11, 2007 at 10:15 pm  current events  4 Responses »
Mar 112007
 

Sema Alabama, 1965. Afer having been intimidated by local authoriteis from registring to vote and at least partly due to the inspiration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Huge numbers of the black population in Selma, Alabama began a march from Selma to Hutsville to deliver a petition to then Governor George Wallace demanding that blacks be protected from harm when registring to vote. George Wallace called the march a threat to public safety and called out the state troopers to break it up. There was footage of the violence on national TV, showin troopers beating the crap out of perfectly peaceful innocent blacks and the events of tha day are often referred to as “Bloody Sunday.” It took petitions to the federal courts to allow following marches to happen.

So Selma is a touchstone of the black civil rights movement. And this past week, there was another kind of confrontation in Selma, this time between Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton. As I understand it, the two Democratic Party presidential hopefuls spoke on the same day at two different historically black churches within 300 yards of each other.

I’m not going to comment on the merits of Obama vs Clinton except to note that Hillary Clinton, in true double speak, tried to convince parishoners at the church where she spoke that the events in Selma 4 decades ago were really about women’s right to vote and that the events in selma enabled her to have a prominent role in politics that was previousy unavailable to women, as if Selma was about womens sufferage rather than aout the intimidation of blacks.

Whatver. I don’t have any interest in picking a winner bewteen Obama and Clinton. I actually want to spend a minute defineding Clinton for another bit of spin during her speech. I want to defend her southern drawl.

If you haven’t heard her attempt at a southern drawl during that speech, you’re in luck. Some folks at Vast Right Wing Conspiracy blogs have posted audio clips for everyone to hear for themself. First, listen to a base line for comparison. Here’s a sample of Hilary Clinton’s speech at recent event. Let’s call this clip, Sophisticated Clinton.

Sophisticated Clinton Sound Clip

Smooth, sophisticated, reserved, in control. Now let’s listen to a clip of Clinton at her Selma appearance. Let’s call this clip, Down Home Clinton.

Down Home Clinton Sound Clip

Big differnece eh? Where did she get that accent? Of course Clinton critics were quick to pounce on this as evidence of her sliminess. But I have to stand up for her on this one. Why? Because I’ve done it too.

I grew up in Charlotte NC, which was a reasonably urban city even back in those days and I never thought of myself as having a “southern” accent. But then I went to University at Texas A&M. My roomates used to get a big kick listening to me when I’d call my parents or friends back in North Carolina. They used to tell me I’d slip into southern drawl mode anytime I was taliing on the phone to someone in NC. And honestly. I never noticed myself doing that. But my roomates used to give me a good natured ribbing about it.

Fast forward a few decades to just a few years ago. I started doing the Taproot Radio show. It’s an internet radio show annd the format covers several key generes of music from the deep south and Texas. Southern rock, roots rock, blues, cajun, zydeco, soul music, and yes, even country music, though I tend to lean toward alt.country music. I was listening to a recording of the show one day and what do you know, I heard myself sliping into the southern drawl mode. It was just a few words here and there. For example instead of saying “you’re listieng to WCOM, community powered radio” I’d said “you’re litening to WCOM, community ‘pow’rd’ radio.” I never intended to do that. I just naturally ran the word powered into a one syllable drawl. I didn’t do it all the time. Just a few words here and there throughout the show.

I was amused. So the next week I decided to turn up the twang quotient in my talk sets. and really give the listener the full effect of my new found southern radio voice. To say the least it was embarrassing. I could barely make myself listen to ithe show recording. So that was enough of that. No more forced twangy accents for me. So the rule I set for myself is to not think about it as much as possible. If a slip into a southern drawl every now and then, fine. No big deal. But I never try to force it anymore.

And so that’s why I have to defend Hillary’s Selma speech. If she got caught up in the moment and reverted to a southern twang from back in her Arkansas days, I say fine. Hillary, darlin’, you talk however you want to. There’s nothing wrong with talking like a Down Home Girl one day and a Sophisticated urbanite the next, as long as it’s authentic, as long as it’s not forced. But I have to warn ya. If you’re pandering to your audience with a fake southern drawl, folks are going to notice and it will backfire on you.

Update: Ted Remington of Rhetoric Garage e-mailed me to say that the only part of Clinton’s speech that had the southern drawl was a spot in which she was “directly quoting an African American spiritual.” Ah! I can agree with him that it makes sense to attempt the vernacular of spiritual. But I would disagree that you would have to. It’s still a choice Clinton made. And her ability to sound authentic and establish rapport with the audience was on the line.

Stuck In Traffic #2: Vigil, Nigeria, Birdseed

 Posted by on March 3, 2007 at 8:29 pm  podcast  No Responses »
Mar 032007
 

March 3, 2007. My Virtual Vigil. The Nigerian Fraud Scam. Putting Out Birdseed. Musical Guest: James Dunn.

Listen: http://mp3.stuckintraffic.com/sitp0002.mp3

Links:
Female Pakistani Minister Shot Dead for Refusing to Wear Veil
Ousted Alcona treasurer arrested
James Dunn Music

Legal:
The Taproot Theme music is “Fake Out” by Derek K. Miller of penmachine.com
The bumper music is “Plain Loafer” by Kevin Macleod and is used under the Creative Commons Attribution license.
“My Way or the Highway” is by James Dunn and is used with permission
This podcast is copyright 2007 by Calvin Powers, all rights reserved

If You Can’t Afford To Buy….

 Posted by on March 3, 2007 at 1:12 pm  cultural phenomena  1 Response »
Mar 032007
 

If You Can’t Afford To Buy….
Originally uploaded by cspowers.

Saw this on Gorman Street in Raleigh, North Carolina, February, 2007.

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