Category Archives: Driveby

The terrible, awful, horrible day that the VAT went up

So maybe you didn’t feel it where you are, but today was the day — and they’ve been building up to it for the whole week that we’ve been in the UK, with sales urging people to come out and buy before it happened — that the VAT went up from 17.5 percent to 20 percent.

Guess what — I didn’t feel it, either.

There are several things that it’s taken some time to get used to here in the UK:

  • People driving on the left. This is maddening when you’re riding in a bus. And I’ve almost been hit from behind by buses several times walking along a road too close to the curb, with the road on my right (you expect to see traffic oncoming, but it sneaks up behind you — and is really close, because the lanes are so narrow).
  • The fact that tips aren’t expected. We made friends with a barman from Sri Lanka in Greenwich (a really nice guy), and he explained that they don’t get tips. We left him one anyway. But it’s really weird to leave, say, 15 quid for a bill of 12 pounds 52 pence, and have the server chase you out of the place trying to give you change. It happens time and again.
  • The fact that you NEVER feel the tax, no matter how high it is. That’s because it’s built into the price of the things you buy. If something is listed as 99p, and you give the clerk a pound coin (and why is it we haven’t had a dollar coin, or two or three dollar coin, catch on in this country? they’re so convenient), you get back a penny.
  • The fact that I’m in a country where the conservative party is raising taxes (OK, technically it’s a coalition government), and the dominant party of the left (Labour) is griping about what a terrible burden taxes are on ordinary families.

But both The Times and The Guardian are going on about this big, monstrous, huge increase. To which I say, who crosses the street to get a 2.5 percent discount on anything? I mean, really? This increase would amount to 25 p on 10 pounds. Or say you spend a thousand pounds on something — which is a lot more than a thousand dollars, mind — what’s the increase in tax? Twenty-five pounds. Like you’re going to worry about that if you can afford a thousand. (Oh, and by the way — that 600 pounds a family The Times predicts is on families that make 70,000 pounds or more. The burden is much less on median incomes.)

All that aside, the most amazing thing, the thing hardest to get used to, is that I’m in a country where the government has decided to deal with the deficit by — now get this — cutting spending and raising taxes. Of course, back home, the recent huge compromise between President Obama and the Republicans was to raise spending and lower taxes. That’s how we deal with deficits in the U.S. of A.

Riding through London on the magnificent Tube — which as far as I’m concerned is one of the marvels of the world, a testament to the ingenuity of Man — and asking directions from the helpful bobbies (“just 200 metres more on your roight, mate”), reading the extremely clear directions on where the buses that come every few minutes go, or going to the fantastic museums and paying nothing (except a few pounds voluntary contribution now and then), I personally feel that the tax I’m paying is one of the great bargains of all time.

And I’m wondering how well I’ll adjust when I get back home to a place where folks don’t want the gummint doing anything, ever, if it’s going to cost a penny more…

No, folks, I’m not a convert to socialism. I worry about the burdens of the welfare state, and I know that increasing taxes too much can have a nasty cooling effect on growth. But I have enjoyed some amenities here that seem more than worth the taxes I’ve paid here. All I’m saying.

See you — I’m off to England

Or not. They just announced a “maintenance problem” on our aircraft. To be fixed in a “coupla minutes.” We’ll see. But it just gives me time to dash off this note.

So I think we’re ready. Some last observations before leaving:

  • One reason I didn’t post yesterday was that I had some last-minute shopping to do, such as for a carry-on bag that will also hold my laptop. And I have this question:  What happened to the day after Christmas, which is supposed to be one of the biggest shopping days of the year? I went to WalMart and out to Harbison, and did not run into crowds anywhere. WalMart had several registers given over to “returns,” but there was no one lined up at them. And the “crowd” in the store might have been a midyear weekday. And after they pushed so hard to get rid of the blue law. Harbison was practically deserted — I got around MUCH more easily than on a typical weekend. So what happened? Did that uptick in consumer spending just crash, or were they waiting until today? Surely it wasn’t that little bit of snow, none of which was on the roads…
  • Speaking of Boxing Day — here’s hoping the London Tube workers got their little strike out of their system yesterday. What worries me is that the Boxing Day holiday is actually on Tuesday this year. Here’s hoping some of the workers didn’t think that was the day, since that’s the day I arrive. If I have trouble getting around London because of labour unrest, I’m voting Tory next time. Strikes? That’s SO Old Labour. It’s like they never heard of Tony Blair or something…
  • By the way, I’m totally set for thoroughly embarrassing my wife on this trip. When she saw me last night proudly showing off my new travel vest with all the pockets stuffed, she laughed uncontrollably. Then she seized control of my bulging wallet and forced me to give up most of the cards that I “wouldn’t need,’ in her opinion. She did let me keep the one with the Our Father in Spanish on it. Good thing she’s Catholic….
  • Speaking of embarrassing my wife — in spite of Kathryn Fenner’s urging, I’ve decided NOT to put on phony British accents wherever I go. After all, I’d probably use the wrong one in the wrong place — go all posh in a working-class pub or something — and get into trouble. No, I have a better plan: I’ll pass myself off as Irish…
  • It’s totally amazing that we didn’t have any trouble checking in at CAE, the way those things were stuffed. But I did have a spot of passport trouble. It wouldn’t scan, so they had to handle in manually. Here’s hoping I don’t have that trouble everywhere. Maybe I should have brought one of the others from the safe deposit box. The Bourne one, maybe…

I will check in with y’all as soon as I’m settled at the hotel. Assuming the laptop works there.

When you see this sign, drive fast. Drive very, very fast…

The lt. gov. with his mother and sister at the dedication ceremony Dec. 21.

How did I miss this? Earlier this week, the humongous interchange where I-77 runs into I-26 was named the “Lt. Governor-Senator André Bauer Interchange.” Which is a mouthful. Not sure I’ve ever seen that construction — “Lt. Governor-Senator.” Kind of like “singer/songwriter,” I guess…

I suppose this was the best parting gift Jake and them could think up, but it really seems like it would have been more appropriate to give André, I don’t know, a plaque, or a toaster, or a pair of socks.

Anything but a public road, seeing as how he is so famous for tearing up such roads. We’re talking about the guy who:

  • When stopped speeding down Assembly Street, charged so aggressively at the cop that he felt threatened enough to draw his weapon.
  • When driving 101 mph on a wet highway, got on the police radio frequency to tell the patrolman pursuing him that “SC2” was “passing through,” and when he was stopped anyway, asked, “Did you not hear me on the radio?”
  • Lied to reporters about that incident, then said he “forgot” about it when confronted with the evidence.

City doing what it has to do on buses

Yesterday I had breakfast with Joel Lourie over at the Lizard’s Thicket on Forest, and as we were chatting he was accosted by a constituent who didn’t like what he’d halfway heard Joel saying about the need for more moderates in the Legislature. He proceeded to lecture Joel on why voters are more and more “conservative” these days. Mainly, it had to do with spending.

But the thing that jumped out at me was the local example he used. After excoriating the effort to raise the sales tax to pay for transportation needs, he said, flat out, “We don’t need buses.” He said it like public transit was just the stupidest, most wasteful idea he had ever heard of.

The conversation ended pleasantly, as Joel listened politely and declined to engage the voter on the more incendiary things he said. (After many years of dealing with angry readers, I can testify that’s a good formula for ending conversations better than they started — look for areas of agreement, look for opportunities to explain your own position better, but mainly allow the frustration to be vented. Most people just want to be heard, and don’t have the same opportunities to make that happen that politicians and journalists do.)

But I thought back to it later in the day. Brian Murrell of ADCO and I went to get some lunch at Greek Boys, and had to park almost a block away north on Sumter. As we walked past the bus stop at Sumter and Hampton in the bitter cold, we passed a guy — probably a patient from Palmetto Health Baptist across the street — standing with a walker waiting for the bus.

We had a nice, warm lunch inside — I had the beef tips over rice with greek salad (minus the feta). It didn’t take all that long — service is fast there — but we weren’t in a hurry, either. We took time to chat with Butch Bowers and Todd Carroll from Hall Bowers over at the next table. Call it 30 minutes, maybe 40.

Then we bundled back up and headed back into the bluster. And as we passed the bus stop, there was that same guy with the walker, still waiting. He had to be chilled right through his bones.

At that moment, I wish that voter from Lizard’s Thicket that morning had been there to tell THAT guy we don’t need buses.

All of which is a long way of getting to the point that Columbia City Council is simply doing what has to be done by coming up for different revenue source for the bus system, for now. Read about that here.

What we should have done was pass the sales tax. But since we didn’t, the city’s got to do something (and so will the county). So that, so far, is what it’s doing.

Parking Meter Santa lives! And he’s back!

You can have your grainy pictures of Sasquatch -- here is my photographic proof of the existence of Parking Meter Santa!

It was more than three years ago that I first posited the existence of a Parking Meter Santa, going about Columbia cheerfully plugging money into meters and chucking softly to himself, thinking of the joy he would bring to the next person to park there.

I based this on having found a space, in October 2007 (it seemed to me more recently; I was shocked that it was on the old blog) on Assembly Street with an hour and 54 minutes left on it. Ho, ho, ho.

This morning, I found one with 1:09 left — 1:08 by the time I took the picture. Not as generous as the time before, but more than I needed. (Perhaps I haven’t been as good as I was in 2007.)

This leaves me feeling much cheerier about the season.

Last night I watched part of Ben Stein’s documentary in which he seeks to debunk the anti-religious gospel of such famous atheists as Richard Dawkins. Well today, we have a settler for those who don’t believe in Santa… Ha! Take that!…

Restraining myself while voting

The Quail Hollow precinct at 12:09 p.m. Most of these folks had arrived well before noon, so this is not the lunch rush..

Quail Hollow precinct at 12:09 p.m. All of these people had arrived BEFORE noon (newcomers were still outside), so this is not the lunch-hour rush. In fact, weirdly, it sort of slowed down during lunch hour...

First, several quick Tweets I wrote while standing in the queue:

Standing in a moderately long line at Quail Hollow precinct (I’ve seen longer). 400 voters so far. Man who just left said it took an hour…

Close to 500 voters have shown up so far at Quail Hollow at noon. Veteran poll worker says 700 to 800 is the normal total for all day.

Man behind me tells companions, “This right here might be the most important vote we ever cast.” I agree, but don’t dare ask what HE means.

Not good for Sheheen: My precinct is heavily Republican, my daughter’s is strongly Democratic. Big turnout at mine, a trickle at hers.

A suggestion: If you favor Vincent Sheheen, or merely distrust Nikki Haley, now would be a good time to get your lazy behind out and VOTE.

Of course, on those last couple, I could have been making an incorrect assumption: I’ve heard so many Republicans say they can’t bring themselves to vote for Nikki that maybe, just maybe, enough of them will vote for Vincent. Yeah, that’s a big maybe, and perhaps I’ve just been talking to the brighter sort of Republican, the kind who pay attention and think before they vote. You can’t count on everyone, or even a majority, doing that in an election.

For instance, a friend who usually votes Democratic told me the story of her husband — who ALWAYS votes Republican — a few minutes ago. He has planned all year to vote for Nikki. She asked him this morning before he went to the polls and he said yes, he was still going to vote for. My friend, and her mother, both remonstrated with him about it. Later, he texted his wife to say that he had voted for Vincent. Once he got into the booth, he just couldn’t bring himself to help put Nikki in office.

But now that it’s too late to ask, I find myself really wondering what that man meant when he said, “This right here might be the most important vote we ever cast.” I told my friend in the above anecdote that, and she said she couldn’t imagine a Nikki supporter being that eager to vote. Surely, anyone voting for her, ignoring all her startling negatives, is simply grimly doing what he perceives to be his duty to a party. I told her she was mistaken: Tea Party types think they are part of a great, exciting reform movement. And they seem convinced, despite all the contradictions, that she is part of it, too. They really do, near as I can tell. A Tea Partisan planning to vote for Haley would say something like that.

The same gentleman, discussing the constitutional questions on the ballot with the ladies accompanying him, said it was simple — vote “yes” to all. I restrained myself again. One of the ladies said she wasn’t so sure about that hunting and fishing one, and the man said she probably wouldn’t understand, since she doesn’t hunt and fish. I REALLY held myself back at this point, stopping myself from delivering a soliloquy on how we shouldn’t clutter the state constitution with superfluous language, particularly to indulge our personal whims, and how the issue isn’t whether you’re for hunting or fishing, but whether you think it belongs in the constitution… Such a lecture from me at that time would have been most unseemly, since I was about to violate that principle by voting for constitutional language indulging one of my own political attitudes, which I would normally be dead set against doing. So it’s doubly good that I said nothing.

But the greatest test of my discretion came when I finally got to the booth itself. (Or whatever you call those things, more like a TV table with blinders. A “half-booth,” perhaps.)

It was awkward to step up to the booth at all, because the lady at the one next to me was for some reason standing backed up away and toward me rather than squaring up to her own booth. I could hardly get to mine without brushing against her back. The reason for this became apparent as a poll worker came up to help her with some sort of trouble she was having.

From that point on, I had to struggle to concentrate on my own voting because of the intense scene being played out right at my elbow. At first, I didn’t notice what was said, until the lady bristled, “I don’t appreciate you speaking to me that way! You have no business doing that…”

YOU try not listening to something after hearing that, especially coming from someone you’re practically touching. I mean, I’m a gentleman and all that, but…

BEING a gentleman, I scrupulously didn’t look that way, but I recognized the voice of the poll worker as that of a woman I’ve known for decades. She was using a perfectly professional, calm tone, but she made the mistake of urging the voter to be calm, which really set her off. She was apparently embarrassed at needing help, and extremely sensitive as a result.

At least once more, she demanded that the worker stop “speaking to me that way.” But eventually, she did calm down somewhat, and said that she only cared about voting for two people, and they were both Republicans, so it was probably fine. The worker insisted that it was NOT fine for her to vote a straight Republican ticket if she had not intended to. (God Bless that poll worker! If only it were illegal to surrender your thinking to a party! If only it were not the first choice offered!) They went back and forth on this, with the embarrassed voter wanting it to be over with, and the worker insisting that it was important that her preferences, and only her preferences, be accurately tallied, and that they could fix this…

I don’t know how it came out. But it was hard not to intervene and say “Listen to the poll worker, lady!” But a gentleman doesn’t intervene in, or take any notice at all of, an unseemly disagreement between ladies. Unless it comes of course to fisticuffs, in which case he turns to the other gentlemen present and places wagers…

Imagine a smiley face at the end there…

Hang down your head, candidate

A piece I read in the WSJ this morning reminded me of a picture I shot with my phone while at a stoplight in Birmingham Friday. The story was about candidates with unusual names, such as Young Boozer, Krystal Ball and Isaac Hayes:

It might come as no surprise in these tumultuous times that a Young Boozer is running for Alabama state treasurer.

Young Boozer introduces himself on the stump as, “Young Boozer and yes, that’s my real name.” He says each audience is made up of three parts. The first wonders, “Is that the guy’s real name?” The second says, “‘What’s his father’s name, Old Boozer?”‘ The rest already know him.

Mr. Boozer, 61 years old, is the third consecutive Young Boozer in his family. He coined the motto, “funny name, serious leadership,” after realizing on the campaign trail the political advantage the elder Young Boozers had passed along. Previously, the Boozers were associated mostly with sports. Mr. Boozer’s father, Young Boozer, Jr., was a football star at the University of Alabama, where he faced off in the Rose Bowl against a Stanford player named Tom Collins.

“I’ve always been a Boozer,” jokes the candidate. The family name is so unusual that “once you hear it, you never forget it,” he says. Still, “I didn’t think it was funny when I was growing up because my dad was so well known.”…

I’m sorry if you can’t make out the blurry image above, but it urges people to vote for Tom Dooley for Alabama state board of education. (So yes, in Alabama, voters have the opportunity to vote for both a famous name from an iconic folk song, and Young Boozer.)

This sparked a conversation between my wife and me — one of those kinds of conversations that are rare in this era of Google. I couldn’t consult the Blackberry while driving, and so we tried to remember… we both knew about the folk song, and to the great regret of the other occupants of the car, I was able to sing four lines of it, repeatedly, before I got stuck:

Hang down your head, Tom Doo-ley.

Hang down your head and cry.

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley.

Poor boy, you’re gonna die…

Beyond that, we didn’t know much. I was thinking the song was about a man condemned some notorious, long-forgotten murder. My wife said yes, but the defendant was a doctor. I said I didn’t know about that, but I did know… and launched into my four lines again.

Well, now that Wikipedia is at hand, I can report that:

  • The song was about the 1866 murder in North Carolina of a woman named Laura Foster.
  • Tom Dula was hanged for the murder in 1868, after two trials.
  • Dula was pronounced “Dooley” in Appalachian dialect, as a result of the same linguistic quirk that led to the current pronunciation and spelling of Grand Ole Opry.
  • Several versions of the song, first sung shortly after Dula’s execution, were recorded in the first half of the 20th century. By far the most famous was by The Kingston Trio in 1958, which was a huge crossover hit and is widely credited with launching the folk boom of the early 60s.
  • At the time that hit recording came out, a Dr. Tom Dooley (Thomas Anthony Dooley III) was famous as an international humanitarian. (Since he was an American Catholic, I’m guessing my wife heard a lot about him from the nuns at school.)
  • It’s not “gonna die,” but “bound to die.”

Oh, finally — turns out the Tom Dooley running for school board is also “Dr. Tom Dooley,” according to his Web site.

And that’s all I know about Tom Dooley.

Aren’t you glad you weren’t stuck in a car with me driving for 20 hours over the weekend? I won’t even get into the thoughts I had when I saw in Memphis a sign telling me that Ned Ray McWherter’s boy is running for governor…

Is that really Andre behind those souvenir photos?

Since I watch my football on HDTV and don’t actually rub elbows with the fans, I haven’t seen what Andy Shain, business editor at The State, wrote of on Twitter the other day:

Andy Shain Spotted Lt Gov Andre Bauer hawking framed photos after USC game. Hid himself behind one of his photos when I tried to shoot a pix. #sctweets

@Erinish3 @paigecoop they were gamecock-related photos. The one he held up was the USC flag atop the statehouse. Will post photo soon.

@TheBigPicture it was a surreal sight after the surreal sight of watching the gamecock football team beat no. 1

Look who’s hawking: Lt gov Andre Bauer shields himself while selling photos after USC game. #sctweets http://twitpic.com/2w76h9

Above you see the image to which he was referring.

If that is Andre, then, as a guy who was unemployed for nearly a year, I’m all for what he’s doing. To quote Don Corleone, “I want to congratulate you on your new business and I’m sure you’ll do very well and good luck to you. Especially since your interests don’t conflict with mine.”

Actually, I don’t know if it’s a new business. I seem to recall that Andre started a business when he was in college having something to do with Gamecock memorabilia, but I had idea he was still doing it.

And the thing is, if there’s a fortune to be made in souvenir photos, Andre will make it. He styles himself the hardest-working man in SC politics, and the hustle he’s always shown on the hustings backs it up. I’ll bet if HE were trying to sell blog ads, he’d do better than I have…

OK, that’s ONE I’ve seen. Any others out there?

Today I saw my first actual “Republicans for Sheheen” bumper sticker on an actual vehicle.

And this was on an SUV, so it was definitely a real Republican, right? (Just kidding, GOPpers — can’t you take a joke?)

I’ve heard, privately, from a lot of folks whom you might otherwise expect to vote Republican who are backing Sheheen — both because they like Vincent, and because Nikki worries them a great deal.

And anyone who pays close attention will note that Henry McMaster sort of stands out these days, because there aren’t many other leading Republicans going out of their way to be seen with Nikki. (What we have is lots of people who don’t really know Nikki backing her in polls, while state business and political leaders who’ve actually dealt with her and know a thing or two about the issues generally aren’t too thrilled with her.)

But aside from the Chamber of Commerce endorsement, you don’t see a lot of visible, public demonstrations of intent to vote for Sheheen from traditionally Republican quarters.

At least, I haven’t.

Alas, I didn’t get to talk to this person, to get an elaboration on why he or she is taking this stand. This was in the drive-through queue at McDonald’s today. A couple of times I almost jumped out of my truck to run up and hand the driver my card and urging him or her to call me, but each time I put my hand on the door handle the line moved forward again.

So then I decided I’d follow the vehicle when it left Mickey D’s, and if it stopped anywhere nearby, try to cop an interview there.

But then, it happened again. I ordered a double quarter-pounder, without cheese (you know, because of my allergies). When I paid for it, I checked with the lady taking the money: “Without cheese, right?” “No cheese,” she said. Then when my food was handed to me in the bag at the next window, I said, “No cheese, right?” She said that was right. So I pulled up a few feet, and opened it up to check, and sure enough, each patty had welded to it one of those things that looks like a square of orange, molten plastic.

So I got out, walked back, squeezing between the car behind me and the window, knocked on the window and said, “THIS is with cheese.”

And then I was asked to pull over to the side and wait for what I had ordered, and had been assured twice I would get.

This happens to me roughly a third of the times that I go to McDonald’s. But McDonald’s isn’t special; I have similar problems at sit-down restaurants. That’s why I always check. It beats finding out five miles away (which has happened). What really gets me, of course, is when this happens after I’ve been assured, repeatedly, that it won’t.

Anyway, that’s why I didn’t get an interview with the Republican for Sheheen.

Do you have one of these stickers on YOUR bumper, or know someone who does? If so, send me your contact info at brad@bradwarthen.com. I’d like to chat with you.

And people say such awful things about him…

Bet you didn’t know that when he was passing through here (or perhaps sometime thereafter), W. Tecumseh bought a brick for Riverbanks Zoo.

Neither did I. I learned this quite inadvertently over the weekend during an outing with the twins. We happened to be closer to the bridge than to the tram station when we decided to head back to the car on the garden side of the river, so we walked, and discovered the above.

And to think, people say such awful things about ol’ War Is Hell. So he burned Columbia? A lot of those blocks were already messed up, as Chris Tucker, who apparently did NOT set the city on fire when he was here, might say…

Say hello to Daddy Warbucks, only with hair

"Are you talkin' to ME?..."

Had an odd thing happen just a few minutes ago, as I was leaving a local drugstore, on my way back from taping something at ETV.

As I crossed the parking lot, I heard a small voice pipe up behind me, “Do you know where there are any jobs?”

Hearing no one respond, I turned and found a cute, petite, college-age (this was near USC) girl hurrying to catch up with me.

Once it was established she was addressing me, I asked, in order to have something to say, “What sort of job?” I was prepared for her to say almost anything, but not what she said: “Administrative.” Something ran through my head that the HR director at The State once told me about how young people today have unrealistic expectations of starting at the top.

I must have looked questioning, because she added, by way of explication, “You know, office work…”

“Well,” I told her, slowly, “I don’t know of anything at the moment…” searching my brain, thinking Wouldn’t it be cool to be able to live up to this girl’s unlikely expectation of me and actually connect this question with an actual job I’ve heard about, but came up dry.

Not wanting to leave it at that, I said, “Would you like to give me a card, so that if I hear of anything…?” with the alarm bells going off in my head as I realized how much that sounded like You wanna give me your phone number?, or how much it might sound like it to someone of her age and experience in life, but it was completely innocent, just what I’d ask of anyone else who told me he or she was job-hunting…

She, continuing to move on past me as I arrived at my car — I realized that we had kept moving the whole time — patted her pocket sort of nervously as though she would normally have cards, but had none today, and said, “No, I don’t have any cards on me…”

And I said, “Well, good luck!” And that was that.

She was bold as brass, which I suppose will stand her in good stead at some point. But what did I look like to her? Like Daddy Warbucks with hair, I suppose.

I didn’t have the heart to call after her and say, Honey, you just don’t know… it took me a year to find a job for myself…

Why spoil her illusions, especially when they are so flattering to me? She looked at me and thought me a powerful and magnanimous man, able to scatter jobs across the pavement like so many doubloons from a Mardi Gras float. Why spoil that, indeed?

God showing off, again

Just thought I’d share a bit of last night’s glorious sunset, as I shot it on my Blackberry.

Actually, I guess that’s not technically a sunset — more of a dramatic interaction of sun and cloud independent of the time of day. One usually thinks of something like this in connection with the term, “sunset.” But then again, maybe it is a sunset but only technically, in that it occurred as the sun was setting.

Anyway, sights such as this beggar language.

That huge, gigantic, enormous Confederate Flag rally Saturday

Just now I was cleaning up the storage card on my Blackberry (a.k.a., my Double-Naught Spy Camera), and I ran across this shot I took at the intersection of Main and Gervais at 1:17 p.m. Saturday.

This was the huge rally to support the Confederate flag on the North lawn of the State House.

What rally, you ask? Well, it’s right there in front of you. Look about 50 feet past the monument — see that knot of flags back there? All clumped up together? What you can’t see too well in this low-res photo is that they are all massed together in front of a camera, with the State House steps behind them, trying to make it look on camera as though the lawn is just PACKED with Confederate flag supporters. At least, that’s what it looked like was happening from where I was. Maybe there was something else on that tripod, I don’t know.

Best part of this picture? I think, based on his comments here, that that’s our own Michael Rodgers counterdemonstrating in the foreground (in the red shirt), being confronted by what I think is a counter-counter-demonstrator, but I didn’t stick around to find out, because the light turned green.

In my day, I’ve seen some flag rallies. I’ve seen some pretty big pro-flag gatherings, that fairly filled the space before the steps, with re-enactors and all sorts of pomp — groups numbering three or four thousand. And of course, I’ve seen the historic King Day at  the Dome in 2000, when 60,000 gathered to say take it down.

And therefore, I can say without fear of contradiction, this was pathetic.

Drive-by, shoot-from-the-hip (and over the shoulder) tourism

IMG00394

Yesterday, I talked my Dad into heading home from Maryland straight through the heart of our nation’s capital so we could say we had sure enough been in it, rather than skirting it on the Beltway again. So we took the George Washington Parkway in, which was beautiful on this unseasonably warm fall day, and drove over the river via the Memorial Bridge, which is definitely the way to do it.

Trouble was, I was driving, and the weather was so great that all the parking spaces were taken, so my photography (with my phone) of the landmarks leaves something to be desired. You may actually recognize the landmark above, even thought the pointy part at the top was missing.

But the one below — well, all I can say is that we were crossing over the Mall from the Pennsylvania Ave. side to the other, and we had a great view of the Capitol off to the left, and, well, I snapped this (without looking, of course) a split-second too late. I think the dome that does show is actually part of the Smithsonian.

At least my intentions were good. I meant to share the view with y’all; I really did…

IMG00397

Braving the Beltway at rush hour Friday

Hey, you think state employees in Columbia are eager to get away from work on a Friday afternoon? Try getting onto the Beltway around D.C. just before 4 p.m. on a Friday.

When we entered from I-95 coming up from S.C. it was fine, but as we approached the Potomac heading toward our destination in Maryland, it locked up. All six lanes. And we didn’t even get in the worst part. Half an hour later, and I think we would still have been there this morning.

Maybe my libertarian friends have a point. Maybe the federal gummint is too big. Just a tad, mind you…

Nice sunRISE today, too

sunrise

I was sort of proud of my sunset pictures from the last night of the fair, what with the fact that I didn’t even have a real camera with me. This morning, I was almost as impressed by the sunrise that I saw coming in towards town on Sunset Blvd. in West Columbia.

Not quite as colorful as the fair pics, and I was a little disappointed that the Blackberry didn’t quite capture the light exactly as I was seeing it, but I thought I’d share it anyway.

Clowning around with health care

Maybe you can help me out with something. I was driving down Sunset Blvd. in West Columbia this morning, and sorta kinda saw something for a fraction of a second, and I’m not sure I know what I saw. If you saw it, maybe you can clear this up.

I was driving past Joe Wilson’s office, and as I whiffed by, happened to glance at a clump of three people (at least I think there were three) loitering on the sidewalk at the corner.  One was sitting on a bicycle. I don’t remember what the second person was doing. The third was holding up a sign that said “Stop Clowning around with our Health Care.” I think. We’re talking split-second here, and I turned away before any of it registered on my mind.

The person holding the sign was wearing a blue outfit with white designs on it from neck to toe. It may have been a clown outfit, but I’m infering that from the sign. He or she may also have been wearing clown makeup, but I have no idea at all about that, because his/her face was blocked by the sign during that tenth of a second or whatever it was.

As I drove on, a number of questions occurred to me:

  • Did I read the sign right?
  • Was the person dressed as a clown? Possibly not. The power of suggestion from what I think the sign said overwhelmed what other information was available to me.
  • Were the other people involved in the demonstration, or just curious passersby?
  • Was this person working for Joe Wilson, and saying President Obama was “clowning” with our health care? (If so, hasn’t Joe called enough attention to himself?)
  • Was this person protesting that Joe Wilson was the one “clowning around with our health care?” (I’ve noticed that one of the favorite epithets hurled at Joe from leftist bloggers is “ass clown,” for some reason) If so, he or she was going to a lot of trouble to send a confused message. You’d have to stop and talk to find out, which not many are in a position to do at that stretch of road at that time.

I was in a hurry to get downtown just then, but I went back that way later to check. No one there. No clown. No guy on a bike. No third person who barely registered. All gone. Must have been a drive-time thing. Or my imagination. I wonder what I saw, and what it was supposed to mean?

Anyway, right after I saw them, as those questions were going through my mind, I reached a stretch where orange roadwork cones were jamming the traffic into one lane. I found myself behind a big white pickup truck. It had a bumper sticker on it with a message that there was no mistaking:

OBAMA

SUCKS

Such is the state of political discourse these days in the 2nd District…

Where I’ve been, in less than 140 characters at a time

I may not know where I’m going (especially careerwise, and I’m eager to find out), but I can tell you where I’ve been.

You may have noticed I haven’t blogged the last couple of days — at least, not in this format. That’s because I drove to Pennsylvania on Sunday, and drove back Monday. I was pretty tired Monday night, but on the whole it was a good, enjoyable trip. I was driving, man! I knew time! I knew it! I was humming down the Shenandoah Valley in a stiff, jumpy Corolla — held the road like a prehistoric bird, you understand, ahem yes! (Apologies to Dean Moriarty, Neal Cassady, Jack Kerouac, Ken Kesey and Tom Wolfe).

I didn’t have a laptop with me, but I had my Blackberry, so yesterday I set myself the task of blogging (if you count Twitter, and it is indeed a truncated form of blogging) across six states. And NO, I didn’t type these while driving, but pulled off the road and came to a complete stop in a safe place each time. (In some places I posted two or three tweets before moving on.) The day started with breakfast with my daughter at my favorite PA spot, then she and I picked up the rental, then had a nice time walking around town in that beautiful weather until almost 10. Then I started the drive back alone. Looking and listening for things to pull over and post about helped keep me alert:

Just ate at the Middlesex Diner, my favorite spot in central PA. Those great fat sausages I can’t get at home…6:57 AM Aug 3rd from web

Just rented Toyota Corolla. Steering wheel awkwardly placed. Nowhere to put elbows. Nice car, though. Beautiful day in central PA…9:15 AM Aug 3rd from web

Twittering across 6 states. Just crossed Mason Dixon Line, our North-South Checkpoint Charlie…10:42 AM Aug 3rd from web

I’m briefly in Maryland, where the 1st Warthen to come to America settled in the 1630s… 10:44 AM Aug 3rd from web

West Va. provides a short stretch of speed between tighter limits of Md and Va…10:56 AM Aug 3rd from web

Picked up free map at W. Va. welcome center. Good intel to have, just in case…10:59 AM Aug 3rd from web

Hint for writer of country song I just heard; “Move” & “love” don’t rhyme, no matter how they look…about 24 hours ago from web

Passed an aging biker who thought he was showing muscles — loose arm skin rippling in wind…about 24 hours ago from web

Another country song, this one an oldie, tries to rhyme “New Mexico” and “loved her so.” Ow, my ears…about 23 hours ago from web

Shenandoah Valley unspeakably beautiful as always. In Virginia, today’s 4th state…about 23 hours ago from web

I’m at the Barnes & Noble in Harrisonburg, Va., getting Starbucks. My kind of rest stop…about 22 hours ago from web

Gimme a break! Just heard Jim DeMint on radio in Virginia!!! Argghhh! There’s no escape…about 22 hours ago from web

I’m pausing in North Carolina just long enough to figure out that I’m only 132 miles from home…about 17 hours ago from web

Back home to SC, 6th state of the day. Just turned in Corolla. It gave me a nice ride — 30 mpg…about 15 hours ago from web

Yes, I realize — kind of a silly and trivial accomplishment, Twittering in six states in one day. But that’s how I get through a long drive on the rare occasions that I have to make a long drive alone: I set myself little goals. Drive so much farther, and I’ll get something to eat. Drive this much farther, and I’m exactly one-third of the way. Get coffee, then see how far I can go (without speeding) before it’s just the right temperature.

And so forth. Twittering served this purpose fairly well. Although you’ll notice that most of the posts are in the first third of the distance. After Harrisonburg, I decided I had to stop stopping if I were to get home before I got too tired. Besides, after Virginia there were only two states left — one stop for gas, and another one at home…

Imagine there’s no traffic; it’s easy if you try…

Earlier this morning I got into one of those blue-sky conversations with someone else who dreams about a light rail system for the Midlands, and it reminded me of this post from last year, in which I quoted in turn from a column I wrote back in 1998 on the subject:

Imagine: Say it’s a few years from now, and you live in Lexington and work in Columbia. You drive the mile or so to the station and leave your car in a parking lot. You take your seat and ride the old Southern line that parallels Highway 1 into the city. Call it the A line.
Despite all the stops, you get downtown in less time than it takes to drive, while getting ahead on work or (better yet) reading the paper. You change trains at the Vista Center station near the new arena and conference center.
Say you work where I do, near Williams-Brice Stadium (and why wouldn’t you; this is my dream, after all). You take the C line down one of the very tracks that used to frustrate you in your driving days (if you can’t beat the trains, join them). You get off within a block of work.
A few hours later, when you have a lunch appointment in Five Points, you take a quick ride back up to Vista Center, then through the underground stretch beneath the State House complex and the USC campus on the eastern reach of the A line.
Need to shop after work? Take the C all the way out to Columbiana, or the D along Two-Notch to Columbia Mall. (Where does the B line go? Out toward Lake Murray, which means it runs between 378 and the Saluda River, right by my house.)

The amazing thing about that original column is that it was written years before I had the chance to ride on the NYC system, which is the one I love the most, because it is the most extensive I’ve ever been on. The systems in Atlanta and Washington are nice, but the NYC system is such an organic part of the city, with such magical properties — you descend into it, and moments later you emerge into a different world.

In the last few years I’ve gone out of my way several times to go to New York mainly to ride the subways. I like to do other stuff — walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, for instance. But the key to everything I do is the transit system.

This morning, Nathan Ballentine wrote on Twitter that I-26 was “backed up like a parking lot” to Lake Murray Boulevard. How much better to be able to spend that time on a train reading the paper, coming in from Irmo, or the Northeast, or Lexington. And then to get around from Five Points to the Vista to wherever without having to hunt for convenient parking?

It would be wonderful. And it’s worth dreaming about, and enduring the scorn of those who keep saying it will never happen. Imagine there’s no traffic; it’s easy if you try…