Archive for the ‘voices’

voices…sexual innuendos and mom

October 01, 2009 By: Debbie Miller Category: voices

defaultSo my husband and I are watching TV tonight. We like the Jay Leno show. Chris Rock was great. Then a commercial is aired. For Halls Refresh. We laugh…a little awkwardly. We look at each other. We are very glad our kids have been asleep for more than an hour.

Check it out…Halls Refresh commercial

“They only play this at night, right?” My husband asks, sketchily. I think it’s hilarious, in a really not-so-funny sort of way. I’d love to hear what you think.

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Cars: Green is the new Sexy

June 24, 2009 By: Steve Zdroik Category: voices

Hybrid2

My partner Mike likes cars. To be honest, he loves cars. He grew up in L.A. When the temperature heats up, there’s no place he’d rather be than on the boulevard of cars in Van Nuys, test driving Audis and BMWs and Infinities. On hot days like that, my thoughts turn to the beach with a cool breeze blowing off the ocean. While he’s dreaming of a revving engine, and ever more ways of spewing carbon into the skies above LA, I’m thinking of checking the “Heal the Bay” water quality report online and body surfing in three-foot swells.

Mike likes to lease cars, very expensive cars. I constantly tease him that he thinks “The car is the temple of the soul.” My father also loved cars, he bought a new one every two years. This was the sixties, and he drove American cars. He was a traveling salesman per se. Actually, he sold small group health insurance predominantly to cheese factories in central Wisconsin where I grew up. (a very lucrative business as you might have guessed).

My father said that he couldn’t be stuck on a country road on a cold January day in below zero temps in a broken down car. And, at that time, American cars were not entirely reliable beyond a certain mileage, so he got a new car when the old one clocked in at around 30,000 miles or so. My father said he would never be caught dead in a Ford. I currently drive a Ford Escape.

Last fourth of July I finally talked Mike into going to Venice beach for a skate and a swim before watching fireworks. He reluctantly agreed. On the way west on the 10, I noticed blue smoke billowing out of my tail pipe. “What’s that?” I asked Mike as I drove, “Blue smoke,” he said. “Blue smoke coming out of your tail pipe because you drive a Ford, and Fords are cheap.” So much for a clinical analysis of the problem. Within two miles my gas pedal wasn’t working and I was calling AAA for a tow back to my mechanic. It turns out a piece of metal had punctured my radiator, and leaked all the transmission fluid out of my engine. Had I driven another mile or two I would have ruined the engine. Thank god I didn’t. That car is paid for and I hope to drive it for another ten years. I told Mike I thought he’d cursed my Ford to get out of going to the beach with me. He looked at me with well-deserved disdain.

At that time Mike was leasing an Infinity FX 45. I called it the “Paycheck Incinerator.” A nice looking car, but not, shall we say, fuel efficient or cost-effective. Thirteen miles to the gallon in the city, and 17 miles to the gallon on the highway. He loved it. Built-in Navigation, sun roof, leather seats. A real head-turner on the highway. We usually took it out around town on weekends when we visited friends. But any time we needed to haul something, including the dog, we ended up in the trusty Ford.

Mike’s lease was due to expire this July 1 — a day I had anxiously anticipated for three years. I had in my mind decided I would do whatever necessary to talk him into a reasonably priced mid-sized car that he would purchase, not lease.

Mike usually starts shopping for cars about a year or two before he needs to get a new one. Late at night I peer into his office and see side-by-side browser screens on his computer while he’s comparing one model to the next online. When I try and talk about other subjects, he asks me if I like the lines on the BMWs better than the lines on the Audi. I tell him I don’t really care. This, in his eyes, means I may not have a completely developed soul.

Due to the current economy, and everyone’s lack of confidence, including Mike’s, he started looking at cars that cost less than $700 a month to lease. This started to make me optimistic. But I pleaded with him to purchase, not lease, and “Drive it ’til it dies.” This does not appeal to him. Driving a car ’till it’s death is not sexy. Looking at new cars is sexy.

Mike considered leasing a Subaru station wagon. When we go skiing there’s always a plethora of young, hip, athletic people tooling up snowy mountain roads in these vehicles. This by itself makes them wholly appealing to anyone who connects image to their vehicle. Mike started telling everyone we knew he was going to drive a Subaru, and suddenly the feedback was not so good. “Soccer Mom car,” they all said (not that he dislikes soccer moms, but it’s not what you want to be called). “Ugly to look at too,” one friend said. He weathered the criticism, buckled down, and went to a dealership in Santa Monica and negotiated what was a reasonable lease into something more expensive. What was going to be $219 a month lease now turned into $469 a month. That’s what happens when you go from a basic four-cylinder vehicle to a fully loaded six-cylinder vehicle. This got me to thinking….

I said “Hey, remember when we looked at the Nissan Altimas last year? They were a pretty good drive and we both liked them better than the more pedestrian Camrys and Accords. Maybe we should drive one before you sign your Subaru lease.” He agreed, so we drove to our local Nissan dealer and test drove a stripped down four cylinder Altima. “A nice car he said, but there’s no extra options, what’s the point? I need a six cylinder with a sun roof, navigation, satellite radio, leather seats, dual climate control, and one touch windows.” These options turn a reasonably priced car into a reasonably expensive car. So, we hit a wall, went home for lunch, and he called another Nissan dealer who had a vehicle he thought he might like and we headed out  to test drive it.

The minute we stepped one foot onto the Nissan lot, a salesman pointed at an Altima and said “I’m getting rid of this for only $21,000 today, have a look.” Mike looked in the interior and said he really liked the color, as well as the exterior too. I looked at the dealer’s sticker and it said it was a hybrid.

Wow, a hybrid! How cool would that be to talk Mike into a hybrid? But I know Mike, and I knew trying to convince him of anything would backfire. So zip my lip I did while that little four cylinder engine zipped us around surface streets and the freeway. “What pep this little engine has!” he said. The salesman reassured him that it had more horsepower than the standard four-cylinder.

So as you may have guessed, on that day, a person who once considered “sensible” to be a dirty word, bought a hybrid, which is truly sensible. No questions asked. Wow, what good engineering will do to make the planet a little greener, and cleaner! And, to Mike’s surprise, he’s finding out from friends and family there’s also status in driving a hybrid. Who knew?

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Op/Ed

June 02, 2009 By: Brian Alexander Category: voices

  

Did zealots contribute to Tiller’s killing?

There is a painfully obvious, and sadly inevitable, logic to the murder of Dr. George Tiller.

If indeed, as some anti-abortion zealots said, Tiller was a “baby killer,” if indeed, he was a “murderer,” of innocents, a cog in the “holocaust” machine of the “abortion industry,” then why shouldn’t he be killed before he could do more damage?

This if-then syllogism is the logic of that vociferous brand of anti-abortion zealots who are now quickly “condemning” Tiller’s killer without acknowledging their own role in it. It is a particularly cowardly stance to take now that it’s too late for Dr. Tiller or his family or his patients. And it leaves the angel of revenge hung out to dry in a Kansas jail while his moral supporters solemnly shake their heads and say they wish it hadn’t happened.

But how could it not?

Who among us, watching old film of the Auschwitz liberation, or a Nazi beating a Jew in the street, or the horror of the mass graves has not said to himself “Where were the neighbors of these Jews, of these homosexuals and Gypsies and mentally retarded? If I were there, I would have done something. I would have picked up a gun.”

This is the logic of the morally upright. The killing of one, or even a few of those who are engaged in mass killing — it seems right and just if we could stop some of the innocents from dying, no? We have no choice. We must act lest we be thought later, by some future PBS-watching history buff, of being complicit by our silence.

I know some thoughtful people who strongly oppose abortion. They use reason and moral suasion to argue their points. I am not referring to these people. I am referring to those TV pundits, those fiery preachers, those attorneys general who crusade with the sword of Jesus run through the books of law, those hate-filled shouters on the Internet who called Tiller a “killer” and who did their level best to inflame passions and to leave no logical alternative to their followers but to commit murder, because if abortion is a new “holocaust,” shouldn’t all of us be killing abortion doctors?

“No, no!” say the mob leaders of radical anti-abortion groups. “Of course not!” say the TV personalities, the bishops, the priests, the preachers.

Of course, these people have the right to say what they wish and as long as people are willing to pay them — whether through donations, through votes, or by watching or sponsoring their television shows — to say what they do, they will, of course, keep saying it. They will continue to call those doctors who choose to perform abortions “murderers,” “killers,” and to equate them with Mengele.

But please, spare us your feigned horror, your sad shock, your phony condolences to the survivors, when a Dr. Slepian, or a Dr. Tiller is killed, or when rescue workers arriving at a bombed clinic are injured by a second bomb. If you wish to have the right to your words, own the consequences.

Embrace the logic.

Brian Alexander is an MSNBC columnist and writer in Southern California. His Sex on the Brain blog runs twice monthly on Ex/Urb.

 

Do you agree with Brian Alexander? Leave your comments below.

 

 

 

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Slow Dude2…

May 29, 2009 By: admin Category: voices

Did  you miss National Bike to Work Week? No problem.

Steve Zdroik is pinch hitting for Slow Dude biketoworkand has a few thoughts on two-wheel adventures.

I spent the weekend in San Francisco, one of the most urban environs in our country.  I arrived back in my semi-suburban Glendale home, where I was forced to get in my car and drive to a doctor’s appointment on Monday morning before driving to work, which is actually only two miles from my home. While on the 101 freeway in Studio City, I saw a “Bike to Work Week” message flashing on the freeway sign that’s usually reserved for child abductions and sig alerts. How absolutely odd! Hmm, is it just me or have the out-of-control environmentally aware Northern Californians taken over our precious Southern Californian freeway signs? Don’t they realize these billboards are to alert drivers to approaching highway problems, not to coax them off the highway and onto self powered vehicles pulsing through surface streets?

A weekend in San Francisco gives one a fresh perspective on city living. San Francisco was essentially in full swing before the advent of the automobile, and then morphed to accompany the auto sometime after the 1906 earthquake and fire leveled half the city. They seem to deal with pedestrians, bicycles, busses, trolleys, cable cars, cabs, and trains better than most places. But ironically, San Francisco’s suburbs — of which there are MANY– seem to almost completely rely on the auto like every other American town.  I wonder if Bay Area suburbanites entering “The City,” suddenly view their autos as a  liability, while they try to navigate narrow streets, limited parking, and stand-still traffic at all hours of the day.

On past visits to San Francisco, I’ve had the “exciting” experience of bicycling from Union Square to Golden Gate park, up Market Street where bicycle messengers regard slow moving tourists as an obstacle, and cabbies give the minimum amount of room possible to bicyclists. I’ve had the wonderful pleasure of bicycling through the park on Sundays when the main thoroughfare is closed to traffic, and the residents of the city take over different sections of the park. They even offer free big band dance lessons in one area.

I’ve bicycled from the Embarcadero through the Marina over the Golden Gate bridge, through Saulsalito on the wonderful bike bath that skirts the bay all the way to Tiburon, and then took the ferry back to the city. There’s nothing as pleasurable to me as seeing the sights from a bicycle. One does not soak up the ambiance of a place in the same way when they view it through a car window or tour bus. They miss the smells and the nuances of the place.

I also wonder if people commuting to work every day in their cars would have a different perspective if they bicycled to work–at least those who live, say, less than five miles from their place of employment, that is.

The Los Angeles basin has one of  the world’s most perfect climates for bicycling, but some of the most hostile terrain. Whether it’s hills or horrendous traffic with no bike lanes, Angelenos like myself who venture into the fray are taking a definite risk. Even in the far-flung suburbs, I hear bicycling is no less safe. Most Southern California communities simply have put no thought into being bicycle and pedestrian friendly. We have wide roads and scary busy intersections. Ever since I purchased a home only two miles from my place of employment, though, I’ve often enjoyed the experience of taking my bicycle to work. Granted, I’m also lucky enough to have a commute that involves only one major intersection, and a series of tree-lined, fairly quiet residential streets that I’m able to bicycle down to and from my place of employment, which is, as I’ve said, a rarity in the L.A. area. But, I like others, find myself getting lazy on a day-to-day basis, and more often than not I tend to favor my four wheels over two.

Last week I promised myself I would stay on my bicycle everyday and I did it. Hopefully I set a good example for those whizzing by me. Maybe I even caused some to wonder if a middle aged chap such as myself could do it, maybe they could too!

Steve Zdroik is a musician, graphic artist and Ex/Urb’s WordPress mastermind.
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Spring Poem

May 01, 2009 By: admin Category: voices

Seeds of Peace   

www.lightboximages.com

www.lightboximages.com

 

What if seeds of peace

grew like weeds:
persistent,
hardy,
resilient?
We’d pull the tops,
but the roots would stay:
spreading,
quiet,
insistent.
We might forget them . . .
until they sprouted again.
What if pesticides were outlawed
or non-existent?
The warmth of a smile,
the nurture of time
would be all it takes:
asters,
daisies,
lavender.
What a welcome invader
peace would be.

 

–Ann Rousseau Smith

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