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| Monday, October 31, 2005 |
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Beta hurricane product performance 
| | I just met my friend, Fidel, who lives and runs an acopio (buys fish/lobster). He lives in Barra (Rio Grande) and stayed for the storm. Said everything was pretty much leveled. Those houses still standing, such as his, have no roofs. One boat lost. No fatalities but one man was struck with flying debris during the storm and injured. I asked about availability of food and he said that everyone is fine for the mean time. Said that ejercito is supposed to send 5 pangas to that area today to help. He heard that Karawala was had the same damage. There is nothing left standing on the "keys." He did not know about Tasbapauni. |
| | Imagine, no roof on his house, the "scare" of his life, and he came to Corn Island to SELL HIS FISH! |
Insider story
| | More (from all sides) on the Forbes Flap from Nathan Weinberg (note the tags), Ed Brill (who was quoted in the piece) RageBoy, The Head Lemur, Shel Israel, Kurt Opsahl at the EFF, Tama Leaver, ABC News, Jack Grant, Joel Cere, Dave Taylor, David Weinberger, News.com, Kevin Dugan, serotoninrain, Steve Rubel, CNBC (including Dan Lyons himself). |
Levyrage
| | Madam Levy: Well we all prefer motorcycles to a cretin degree. |
| | And if my xman-husband doesn¹t shape up soon I'm going to have to send him a strongly worded gmail. Gspot dot calm. All ambiguous and shit. 544 we¹re at the ? mark people. And rest assured my prune consuming friend that as soon as that check clears Darling I'm going to rip you a new Basquiat asshole painting. Clouds white as lace circling the cottonwoods. Without a doubt. |
Treat
| | Spent the day with the kid yesterday. Most of it was with the kid, his friend, and his friend's dad, Charlie. It was a perfect Santa Barbara day: sunny, clear, about 70 degrees. |
| | We played a bunch of basketball on a nicely resurfaced court behind Cold Spring School in Montecito, not far from where the slope on which the town reposes gives way to the green verticality of the mountains. Paragliders floated about in the sky overhead, launched from three thousand feet up, near the top of the ridge. |
| | We played a game of HORSE, in teams. The two 9-year-olds beat their 40-something and 50-something dads. Then we made it longer, changing HORSE to BATTLESHIP. The kids got to BAT before the old men spelled the whole word with misses. |
| | Then we played a real game of basketball. |
| | I'm almost proud to say that the old men creamed the little buggers. It wasn't fair. The old farts used their superior age to advantage. We played to 21. The kids had about 10 points. I think I had about 18 of the Fart team's points. |
| | But the best part was when I broke past my 4' 8" 65-pound defender along the baseline drove hard to the basket, making a smooth underhanded layup. It was, I said correctly, my first actual "move" in a decade. |
| | Then we drove downtown, ate large burgers at The Habit and joined large crouds wandering among thrift and costume shops on lower State Street, looking for an archery costume for my kid, who is reading a book about Robin Hood and very taken with the story. |
| | Then we watched the end of Johnny English (a silly movie the kid loves, especially where Johnny gets coated with shit when he takes a short-cut through a sewage pipe) and shot some more baskets out in the pool, under the stars, pausing to watch the International Space Station appear near Venus in the West and disappear into the Earth's shadow near Mars in the East. |
| | We both fell asleep early, and this morning my body aches like it's been beaten all over with a mallet. |
| | Gotta keep it up, while I still have a body. |
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