Mao's Great Famine by Frank Dikötter

On tap for the summer I’ve got two tomes on Communist atrocities.  I kicked it off with Frank Dikotter’s Mao’s Great Famine, which explores the devastating policies of The Great Leap Forward (1958-1962) during which roughly 45 million people died.  The book is a thorough exploration of the Party’s follies in this period.  In large part, Mao was motivated by Kruschev’s maneuvers in this period.  With Stalin dead, Mao felt he could become the leading light of the Communist world.  When Kruschev vowed to outproduce the US in short shrift, Mao responded by claiming the Chinese would soon outproduce Britain.  What followed were a series of policies of sheer madness.  Mao called for a rapid collectivization of agriculture and industry. Personal property and farms were seized.  Collective farming began. The party handed down  experimental farming techniques like close cropping and deep plowing to help increase rice and grain yields.  Of course, yields declined in a devastating fashion. Foolish water conservancy projects were enacted.  Backyard steel manufacturing came next.  Output dropped and the quality of goods produced were terrible.  Putting on a brave face to the outside world, the Chinese honored all their trade agreements, exporting grain while their own people starved. In short, everything went wrong and people paid with their lives on a grand scale.The book does a great job chronicling the policies, analyzing Mao’s role in the debacle, looking at the party bosses, examining the brutality of the local cadres, exploring the culture of fear, and showing how such devastation could come to fruition.  The book is not so successful in exploring the lives of the millions that die.  The book doesn’t have that personal quality or the human touch that many historical works carry.  The book showcases the “complete lack of connection between people and party”, but the book’s focus clearly lies on the side of the party.  That’s valid.  The level of hubris, fear, and folly within the party is staggering.  I also imagine the tales of survivors and the dead would be hard to come by.  Were these ever documented by the party? If they were, in all likelihood they would be sealed tightly in a vault somewhere.  That said, throughout the book, you get lists of atrocities within a region, followed by a short paragraph or anecdote focused on a citizen.  These little glimpses into the lives of the people are spread throughout, and though they are enough to give you a true sense of the calamity on the ground, there is a clinical remove at play.  I would have liked the book to get to the heart of the horror just a little more.  

I’ll take a couple weeks away from this grizzly fare, but Voices From Chernobyl  loom in my future.

Red Army

I love hockey. I love documentary.  I was pretty excited to check out Red Army, a doc about the standout Soviet hockey teams of the 70s and 80s.  For a fairly small release, Red Army was receiving plenty of hype from a variety of mainstream sources, which further wetted my appetite.  

Growing up playing hockey in the 70s, the specter of the Red Army team was ever present.  They were the enemy.  Though they were the evil empire, there was no denying that they were awesome.  They kicked Canada’s butt.  And though the Americans beat them at Lake Placid, any one in the know realized that had that game been played ten more times, the Russians would have won them all.

Red Army is a pretty entertaining doc focusing on more than just the formation of the team.  It’s a glint into the Soviet political system and the industrial sports complex of the Cold War era.  If you came of age in that era, there was no question that sports were a battleground that often stood in for political battles.  Red Army acknowledges the Soviet necessity for fielding standout sporting teams to do battle on the international circuit. 

Political machinations aside, at its core, Red Army showcases the trials and travails of the Red Army team members. Their training regimen was nuts. Players trained for 11 months out of the year, rarely spending time with their families.  As a result, the Soviets played like a well-oiled machine.  Each player was in complete sync with his line mates.  The highlights of the team on the ice in Red Army are astounding. The Red Army’s starting five were absolute wizards.  Their playmaking skills were a true thing of beauty.  I assure you that you won’t see hockey of that caliber on a Tuesday night tilt between the Panthers and Jets.  But their machine like dismantling of their opponents also turned them into communist automotons in the eyes of Western observers.  Red Army does a great job of humanizing the players.  

The documentary revolves around star defensemen Slava Fetisov, who would later go on to win a bunch of Stanley Cups for the mighty Red Wings.  Fetisov was the team leader and the first player who bristled at the authoritarian yoke of the team and head coach Viktor Tikhonov.  Fetisov’s desire to emigrate and jump ship to the NHL leads to punitive treatment from the team and the system that he lead to international glory. 

While we now take for granted the international flavor of the NHL, it’s easy to forget the resistance put up to Soviets playing in the NHL.  From the “their coming for our jobs stance” to the general distrust of commies in our midst, the transition of these Soviet stanouts to the NHL was incredibly difficult for the players and their families.  Not only were they isolated by language, culture, and style of play, but many NHLers didn’t want them here.  Fetisov, along with teammates Alexei Kasatonov, Igor Larionov, and Sergei Makarov were pioneers in bringing the Russian game to the U.S, but their transition was far from idyllic, often being viewed as foreign pariahs.

I definitely had a couple quibbles with the film.  The majority of the big picture cultural/political perspective comes from Western analysts. I found it odd that a film so intent on showing a Soviet perspective, left the bird’s eye view of the political perspective in the hands of Western critics.  I know the Western perspective of the Cold War.  I wanted an Eastern Bloc perspective.  Granted the players do shine some light on the matter and that’s when the film shines.  I loved the Red Army teammates talking about their first trip to Canada and being overwhelmed by all the shopping options and their excitement at buying lots of blue jeans.  More of this, please.

The other oddity in the film is how much of the film is dependent on Fetisov.  All the reviews I read prior to seeing the film talked about how Fetisov’s story was at the core of the film, but I had no idea how truly focused the film was on Fetisov.  I’m spitballing, but if I had to guess, Fetisov represents 60-70% of the interview time in the film.  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a doc so heavily reliant on one interview subject.  Had the film been called The Fetisov Story, I guess I’d accept, but for a film covering a broader landscape it comes off a bit odd.  The film contains interviews with Fetisov’s defense partner Alexei Kasatonov, goalie great Vladislav Tretriak, and forward Vladimir Krutov.  But their interviews were worthy of fourth line grinder ice time. These guys were some of the greatest to ever play the game, but they weren’t allotted top line minutes in the interview column.  Nowhere to be found were star forwards Igor Larionov and Sergei Makarov.  I’m sure there was a reason no interviews were secured with those two amazing forwards, but given their prominence on the team and their successful NHL careers, their absence was felt.

But quibbles aside, Red Army is absolutely worth checking out.  

Gulag: A History & My Promised Land

For the past month I’ve been laid up with a herniated disc.  Two weeks of being bed-ridden were followed by a little spine surgery, which has been followed by a couple more weeks of spending a lot of time lying flat on my back.  I haven’t tied my shoes, washed dishes, or worn big-boy pants in a month.  I have, however, done a lot of reading and a modicum of viewing.  In the next couple of days, I’ll be rolling out what I’ve learned.

Gulag: A History by Anne Applebaum

Looking down the barrel of a surgeon’s knife, I decided to tackle a 500 page tome on the Soviet prison camp system.  I figured that a) not being able to move would help/force me to plow through this bitter and brutal history, and b) from a personal perspective, I figured that though I was laid up and facing a surgery with potentially scary side effects, that I would be reminded that things could always be worse.  Reading Gulag: A History, there is no question that things were worse.  Gulag is an exhaustive look at the history, the inner machinations of, and the politics surrounding the gulag.   The gulag was the soviet prison system.  Driven by Stalin’s political paranoia, the system filled up with millions of Soviets.  Though there were some hardened criminals, many of the prisoners were arrested on dubious pretenses.  Indiscriminate sweeps of Ukranians, Poles, Balts and Jews landed many innocents in the gulag.  The system was also filled by political prisoners who were accused of being enemies of the state. The gulag was not only driven by Stalin’s paranoia, but there was the false hope that the gulag could be an economic engine for the foundering Soviet Union.  Prison labor was slave labor that the Soviet Union hoped could mine precious materials from the land, build vast public works projects, like canals, fell timber, and help drive the economy.

Applebaum, who penned the excellent Iron Curtain: The Crushing of Eastern Europe 1944-1956, does a great job discussing the politics that brought on the birth of this prison system, looks at the leaders and administrators who ran the system, and how the system transforms as Soviet Politics transform.  Though the gulag was at its peak between the 1920s and 1950s, Applebaum traces the dissolution of the system through Glasnost and looks at how the prison system transforms through the 80s.  Gulag also traces the life of the prisoner from arrest, transport to the camps, and acclimation to the camps.  It focuses on the types of work, the types of rewards and punishments.  It looks at the life of the guards, and it looks at the possibilities of escape.  Gulag also looks at and differentiates the types of prisoners from political prisoners to hardened criminals to peasants whose arrests were brought on because they bristled at the notion of forced collectivization. Regardless of their point of origin, life in the camps was brutal.  Food was scarce, tools to do the work were rudimentary to non-existent, clothing was threadbare, living conditions were frightening, there was violence amongst the prisoners and between prisoner and guard, and if you were placed in a northern camp above the arctic circle, life was mighty cold. In short, it was a brutal life.

One fascinating element is the number of memoirists who emerged from the gulag.  Each chapter is lead off by a beautiful poem or piece of writing encapsulating the chapter to come.  I found that to be a nice touch.  Gulag is worth the read.  But be forewarned, it is long.  At times it feels like a very detailed master’s thesis. Applebaum is an excellent writer who is at her best when she takes the long view, analyzing and looking at the big picture.  She kills it in the intro and the epilogue.  At times though, the body of the book feels like a long list of atrocities.  It’s a list that people need to hear, but when your done, you will feel release.

My Promised Land by Ari Shavit

While mired deep in the Gulag my dad sent me Ari Shavit’s My Promised Land: The Triumph and Tragedy of Israel.  I picked it up, read the first chapter and was hooked, and thus began my pas de deux, simultaneously reading two historical books.  I rarely read two books at once, but it was quite enjoyable.  The gulag by day, Israel by night.

My Promised Land is an enthralling look at the history of Israel and the Zionist endeavor.  Given the current state of politics, Israel and the Occupation are hot potato topics.  There is much anger and vitriol, and courtesy of social media like Facebook, a lot of ranting and raving. Everyone has an opinion, but I always wonder how much people really know about the situation.  I certainly know a bit of the history of the Middle East, but I’ll be the first to admit that I have large blind spots, and a perspective informed by being from a family whose grandparents came from Poland and the Ukraine to help settle Palestine in the 20s.  I think everyone, regardless of political stance, could probably stand to know more about the situation, myself included.

I loved My Promised Land, and I’d highly recommend it to anyone looking to gain some perspective on current day politics and the history that got us to this moment in time.  It is by no means an exhaustive look at the history, but Shavit looks at critical moments and events in Israeli history, explores them deeply and tries to relate them to today’s conflicts.  He does so as someone who believes in the State of Israel, but someone who sees big flaws in the State and its politics.

Shavit is a Haaretz reporter, and a peacenik who squarely comes out against occupation.  That said he is proudly Zionist and believes in the necessity of the state of Israel.  The book starts by looking at the Zionist movement of the early 20^th century and how its fueled by the hostility towards European Jews and the coming holocaust that will wipeout 6 million Jews. Against this backdrop the necessity for a Jewish homeland seems paramount.  Shavit spend a lot of time looking at the early Zionists, their fierce determination, their collective spirit, their relationship to the land and to the Arabs in the land.  At the crux of My Promised Land is Shavit’s realization that if one believes in the necessity of the Jewish State, displacement of part of the Arab population is wrapped up in that belief.  Though we spend so much time focused on post-1967 occupation, at the core of the challenge of modern Israel is 1948. Zionism was all about finding a safe haven for Jews in a hostile world, but the ultimate and unfortunate byproduct of that desire was the displacement of an Arab population.  The book continually circles back to this premise and Shavit spends much time trying to understand this dichotomy.

The book is a fascinating history of the development of Israel from its 20s roots to its modern complexities.  My Promised Land looks at the various waves of Jewish immigration and the political movements that have shaped Israeli politics and culture.  Shavit continually looks at all those movements though the lens of where we are at now politically.  He looks at key moments of the early Zionists, he looks at key battles in 1948, he looks at the budding prosperity of the 50s, the nuclear program of the 60s, and the critical wars of 1967 and 1973.  Interestingly he points to the failures of the Yom Kippur war as the turning point in Israeli politics, at how that defeat and the ensuing political malaise gave birth to the settler movement.  He interviews key players in the early settler movement and explores the Occupation. He explores the peace movement and looks at his time as a soldier in Gaza in 1991.  He also spends time trying to understand the ultra-orthodox movement and how shifting demographics and economics are continually affecting modern Israel.

This was a great and eye opening read that delves deep into Israeli history and the Israeli psyche.  No matter what side of the political debate you’re on, I’d highly recommend My Promised Land.

Citizen Four

I’ve been fascinated by the Edward Snowden case since it broke in 2013. Snowden revealed a bevvy of NSA documents, showing the government’s far-reaching surveillance abilities.  Particularly disconcerting was the government’s ability to access phone records and internet communications. Snowden became privy to NSA documents while working for the consulting firm of Booz Hamilton. Disturbed by what he perceived as a government overstepping its bounds, Snowden turned whistleblower.  

Citizen Four, directed by Laura Poitras, documents the days leading up to Snowden’s revelations and the aftermath.  Snowden was not interested in publishing the documents WikiLeaks-style for fear that he would reveal info that would jeopardize legitimate intelligent operations and individuals involved in such operations.  Instead, Snowden contacts Poitras, whose documentary work he respected, Salon’s Glenn Greenwald, and The Guardian’s Ewan MacAskill.  Working as a team, they decide the best way to release the information.

Snowden is not only cognizant of the havoc his revelations will unleash, but also understands the personal risks.  Not only will he be cut-off from friends and family, but he’ll face treason charges under the auspices of the Espionage Act.  The film opens with Snowden’s cat and mouse courting of Poitras.  We see and hear a series of email exchanges.  Dribs and drabs of heavily encrypted information flow between the two.  Poitras is sucked in and the team assembles in Hong Kong, where Snowden has taken refuge, aware that Hong Kong is unlikely to extradite Snowden once his allegations are revealed.

This section of the film is fascinating.  The film’s subjects are strangers, undertaking a damning project, rife with danger.  Watching the group strategizing is a fascinating process.  Once the documents are leaked, Snowden is forced underground and his journey takes him from Hong Kong to Moscow.  From this point on we rarely see Snowden, most of his communication now coming in the form of encrypted emails. Snowden’s disappearance certainly has a chilling effect.  He’s at the center of the storm, yet is effectively silenced by his precarious political standing.  He’s granted asylum in Moscow, but that asylum seems tenuous at best. 

The Snowden story is fascinating on many levels.  As digital citizens, I think it’s important that we are aware of who has access to our communications. I think it’s important that we understand our conversations are not private.  We live in a digital age where we live so much of our lives on-line. I have a middle schooler. My son and his friends will live their entire lives sharing information on-line.  Their digital footprint will be huge.  What will these intrusions on privacy mean to them?  

One of the central concerns at the core of the case is whether we should be willing to give up some of our civil liberties for increased safety against terrorism. The film certainly addresses this, but if I had a complaint about the movie, it’s that due to the film’s vérité nature, Citizen Four is sometimes hard to read.  Clearly Poitras, along with Snowden, believe that the government’s surveillance and obfuscation of justice is detrimental to free speech, and that has far-reaching, negative implications.  That critique was clear to me, but I don’t know if that critique will hit home to those who might be skeptical to this line of thinking.  

Any filmmaker that takes on a controversial subject should be aware that their film has skeptics. Presumably you want to win over those skeptics, get them to change their opinions on a hot-button issue. Otherwise, you’re just preaching to the converted. Many people watching this doc are probably anti-Snowden, anti-whistleblower, and fear terrorist attacks to the point that they would be willing to give up a certain level of privacy to prevent future attacks.  I’m not sure Citizen Four’s approach is enough to get them to change their opinions.  I return to my middle-schooler.  He’s not doing anything treasonous on-line.  Why should he care if the government has access to his email?  What are they going to find out?  That he’s mad at his math teacher?  I walked into Citizen Four thinking that this film would need to be required viewing for any young person navigating today’s digital landscape.  But I’m not sure that your average teen would be able to fully understand the socio-political critique. I wanted Citizen Four to have the impact of An Inconvenient Truth.  Direct and chilling.  Citizen Four doesn’t quite deliver in that way.  That’s not how it’s designed, but I wish it had been.

Still, it’s a must see.

Inauguration Mania

As someone who came of age in the 70s, whose first political memories revolve around Richard Nixon, and who has ultimately lived in an era defined by cynicism toward politicians and politics in general, the election and inauguration of Barack Obama has been nothing short of energizing, exciting, and revelatory. When boomers talk about the promise and hope offered by JFK, RFK, and MLK and the tragedies of their deaths, those are things I’ve understood in theory, but never really felt. The hope offered by Obama, the hope Obama has offered to so many has finally made me see the legacy of those other figures in a new light.

Watching the inauguration and the festivities surrounding the inauguration has been a blast. The campaigning done, the nerves around the election in the rear view mirror, the inauguration has been a time to kick back and revel in the wonder of it all. Do I care about inaugural balls? Not really, but it’s just exciting to watch so many people excited about politics and bask in the glow at the victory party.

I even watched We Are One – The Obama Inaugural Celebration at the Lincoln Memorial. Though I’m about to say a couple of critical things about that event, I don’t want to be perceived as the little black cloud that rains on the parade. Let it be said, I’m digging the parade. I’m glad this event happened, I dug watching it, but I got to throw my two cents in the ring.

If you didn’t see the event, it took place under the steely gaze of Abe Lincoln and essentially alternated music acts and little history lessons delivered by A List actors. The history imparted conjured up the ghosts of Lincoln, FDR, Teddy Roosevelt, JFK, and MLK.

My only beef with the event was that in channeling the spirit of great American leaders, thinkers, and policy makers, the message was delivered by celebrities. I’ve never understood or related to America’s feverish worship of celebrity, but was somewhat disappointed that an event that served to usher in a transformative moment in American politics had the feel and guest list of an awards show. If you turned the sound off, it would have been hard to tell if you were watching an inaugural celebration or the Academy Awards, Grammys, MTV Music or Movie Awards, Golden Globes, etcetera, etcetera.

As Obama clearly recognized in his inaugural address, this country is in crisis. We’re at a crossroads. The path out of our predicament is not clear. The country will need its leaders, its top thinkers, politicians, innovators, and scientists to help pull us out of this mess. It would have been exciting if people who actually embody the intelligence, the spirit, and the fortitude of JFK, FDR, Lincoln, and MLK had been chosen to deliver the historical message surrounding those great leaders.

No offense to the guy who played a talking panda, the women who played the pole dancing love interest of a washed-up wrestler, the guy who does a good impersonation of Ray Charles, or the guy who got the motherfuckin’ snakes off the motherfuckin’ plane, but they’re not going to be the people that pull us out of our national quagmire. They’re actors. They act in movies. They’ll distract us from our problems. And that’s great. Escapism isn’t so bad. And I’m sure we’ll need it.

At least the musicians got it right. They shut up and played their songs. They understood their role and the role of music and did it right. Well, everyone except Bono of course. Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Wonder, Pete Seeger—did any of these guys use this stage as a platform for their own agenda? No. It’s called class. Bono on the other hand wasn’t content to let the music do the talking. Ego outshines class with this guy. Shout outs to his Irish heritage, to the Israelis and to the Palestinians. Dude. Not the time, not the place. Take a lesson from Little Stevie, From the Boss, from Pete Seeger. A little humility can be a good thing.

Those Clowns in Washington...er...San Francisco Are At It Again

Like many Americans, I was particularly energized by this year’s presidential campaign and overall politicized climate. But rather than just focus on national political issues, I took a little more time exploring local politics. My neighborhood is a working class neighborhood with a lagging commercial corridor filled with 99 cent stores and crime has been a hot button issue with a high profile murder dominating the news earlier in the year. Our supervisor was up for election and I took in my first-ever supervisorial debate back in October. My candidate won, and since I know him in passing, I’m excited to have the ear of someone at City Hall. I had the day off this past Thursday and was therefore excited to go to City Hall for the swearing-in of the new slate of city supervisors.

Boy, did that experience bum my high.

After each of the supes was sworn in, there was a public election of the President of the Board of Supervisors. But before the supervisors could vote on their new President, the floor was open to the public to weigh in on the choice. Now, San Francisco politics often get made fun of on the national stage but I think for all the wrong reasons. I guarantee you that most of those who laugh at our city's political reputation have never been to a supervisors’ meeting. Any topic up for vote is met with a parade of public Joes and Janes weighing in on the topic at hand. First off, let me say, I am glad this is the case. Public debate over civic decisions is a great component of democracy. At these meetings there is always lots of intelligent discussion. That said, there’s always a level of lunatic fringe on display as well—some guy or gal getting up to blow hard and pontificate about the state of things, yet wildly off-topic. You stare at your feet and wonder when their two minutes will be up. That’s a classic SF political moment and ripe for ridicule.

In any event, the public got to weigh in on this election…for about 30 minutes. Glad I brought my book. Not only was it long in the tooth, it really seemed like a waste of time. I honestly couldn’t believe that any supervisor was going to be swayed by what was being said. Come on. They all had to have made up their minds. Right? I’ve seen Milk. I know how SF supervisors handle their business. I know the “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” mode of politics. This had to be a done deal.

But boy was I wrong. The actual election was one of the most bizarre and depressing things I’ve seen in a long time. Currently SF has a good method of electing supervisors. Supervisors need to win a majority of the vote in their district to win the election, but because 7-8 people run for each seat, very rarely does a supervisor win the majority on the first ballot. Runoffs are needed and in the past, people have had to head back out to the polls to cast their ballots for the top two vote getters. SF has moved to ranked-choice voting, where you put down your top three candidates on the initial ballot. Once the top two qualifiers are identified, the board of elections can conduct the runoff through the ranked-choice tallies. Simple, yet brilliant.

You would think that voting for the President of the Supervisors would run the same way, but that’s not the case. I’m not sure I can do this justice, but I’ll give it a shot.

In the first round of voting, Sophie Maxwell received 5 votes, and a smattering of supervisors got a couple of votes a piece. You need a majority of 6 votes to win. Nobody got six, so a revote was needed.

In round 2, the roll was called, and Sophie Maxwell got 5 votes and John Avalos (my supe) got 4 votes, and Ross Mirkarimi received 2 votes. No winner. Let’s do it again. People with only a few votes (Ross Mirkarimi, we’re looking at you) were asked to withdraw their candidacy. This request was declined.

In round 3, the supervisors voted the exact same way. Maxwell 5, Avalos 4, Mirkarimi 2.

In round 4, the supervisors voted the exact same way. WTF I was thinking to myself. How long does this go on for?

After round 4, Michela Alioto-Pier makes a passionate plea on behalf of Sophie Maxwell. Fair enough. Let’s try to move out of deadlock with some straight talk and campaigning. Eric Mar of District 1 gets up and makes a passionate plea for considering the candidacy of David Chiu. David Chiu? What? Huh? Did I hear that right? You mean the guy who got no votes through four rounds of voting? (Now to be fair he might have gotten 1 vote in the first round, I can’t be sure). But regardless, What The Fuck? Two candidates have almost enough votes to win, and now we make a plea for someone who hasn’t gotten one vote. What kind of ridiculous political theater is going on here?

It all gets hazy after this. In round 5 Maxwell holds onto her 5 votes and Chiu picks up a couple of votes. In round 6 Avalos votes for Chiu, but other people keep voting for Avalos. Does that make any sense whatsoever? Not to me, especially because Avalos voted 2nd, given his name is at the top of the alphabet. He votes for Chiu and other people are still supporting him? WTF?

In round 6, it moves into a 5 to 5 tie between Maxwell and Chiu. Strangely, the other vote does not go to Avalos. Gadfly extreme Chris Daly casts this rogue vote. Who does Daly vote for? Why that would be himself of course . WTF? Now I don’t know many people who like Chris Daly. This guy seems like the ultimate grandstander. I saw in the paper last week how he bragged about always voting for the winning board president. Well I can see why you can’t lose when you’re playing some dirty pool like that.

In round 8 David Chiu won. You remember him. The guy no one voted for the first 4 times around. Well that guy is your new Board President. I repeat, What The Fuck?

Now keep in mind I didn’t keep copious notes on this, and some of my info might not be totally accurate, but this is a pretty good snapshot of what went down. Now let me also say I know that politics is about alliances and deal making and what not, but this sort of political theater was disheartening. At an event where the city should be celebrating moving forward, where the city should be celebrating the new blood that will run the city, it’s frustrating to see such a blatant display of backroom politics on public display.

And don’t ask me what was proven, what alliances were made, and what factions were formed? I don’t know. I couldn’t figure that out. But it all smacked of politics as usual. The kind of politics that have made Americans so distrustful of their elected leaders. The hope that the Obama election has provided has made it feel like we could be at the dawning of a new era in American politics. With the coming Obama inauguration as a backdrop, I found it particularly disheartening to witness such a public display of politics as usual, especially in a town like San Francisco.

If my take on this is too skewed, jaded, or cynical, please let me know. For another view of the event, one that is more positive and hopeful, check out my good friend Valerie Soe’s thoughts on Beyond Asiaphilia.

Sarah Palin vs. The NHL

I can’t help but being irked by the people championing Sarah Palin because she’s a hockey mom. As a long time hockey fan I’ve spent years being mocked and chided for loving hockey. I’ve come to begrudgingly accept the fact that 99% of Americans don’t give half a sh*t about hockey. It was fashionable to like the NHL for a minute or two in the 90s as Gretzky took his show to LA and then NYC. But increasingly crappy league management, horrible tv contracts (so long ESPN and good luck seeing the Stanley Cup on broadcast), and an entire season work stoppage later, the NHL has lost its status as a top 4 sport in most people’s minds.

So the fact that Sarah Palin’s parental duties as a hockey mom are being used to tout her credibility as a salt-of-the-earth, hard-working American is laughable. People are acting like being a hockey mom is as American as hot dogs, apple pie, and baseball. Come on. Who are we kidding? Hell, this is a sport championed by Canadians and…gasp…Russians! The only time anyone in America ever cares about hockey is when some unlucky sap is nearly beaten to death on the ice, when a spectator is killed by an errant puck, or when a player drops dead at the rink from a medical condition. Oh wait…didn’t that happen last week in Russia. If Palin was such a great hockey mom, maybe she could have saved that young Ruskie, after all, I’m sure she could have seen the incident from her house.

And does being a parent who attends your kid’s sporting events necessarily make you a good parent? There are constant reports of abusive parents berating referees and kids alike at the pee wee sports level. Even in San Francisco (home of San Francisco Values), the youth soccer league requires a mandatory meeting for parents at the start of the season where parents are told not to behave like lunatics. The meeting is called because every year there are multiple incidents of parent-generated sideline lunacy. Now I’m not saying Palin would be one of these nutbag parents, but honestly do you think she would more likely be the type of parent who, after a game, would a) buy the team slurpees or b) try to get a referee fired for making a questionable hooking call against her child?

And finally on the parental note, are her kids any good at playing hockey? If they were good, we could ascertain that she was a good hockey mom. She’s certainly birthed enough kids, but it’s not like any of her brood are tearing up the NHL like the Staals, Sutters, Mahovolichs or Howes. Heck, they’re probably not as good as the Koivu or Michalek clans. Now that’s a list of hockey moms that should be celebrated.

Trying to goose her party’s chances in November, Palin has been making the rounds of NHL rinks in key battleground states. Right now, it’s looking like this tactic may backfire. The other night in St. Louis, Palin dropped the ceremonial first puck at a Blues' game. Shortly thereafter, Blues starting netminder Manny Legace tripped over the ceremonial red carpet and had to leave the game with a “lower body injury”. The Blues will be fighting for that 8th playoff spot in the always tough Western Conference. Without Legace they don’t stand much of a chance. Here’s hoping that Blues’ fans will keep that in mind when they vote on November 4. And remember, since 1904, Missouri has always voted for the eventual winner of the Presidential election with the exception of 1956.

Several weeks back she dropped the ceremonial first puck in Philadelphia and the boo birds were out in force at the Spectrum (or whatever the hell the name of that arena is now). Some wags have been laying the blame on the Flyers slow start as a Palin curse. I don’t see it that way. The Flyers defense just sucks right now. But that said, imagine if Daniel Briere had tripped on the red carpet and had left the ice with a "lower body injury". Palin would have been lucky to escape alive. Minimally, some of the Philly faithful would have chucked a couple of battery-filled snowballs at her head. Her $20,000 hairdo would sure to have been mussed.

There's about 15 months left in the interminable NHL season but only about a 10 days left until the election. I'm not sure if Palin is planning on taking in a Panther or Lightning game, but at the rate she's going, I'm hoping maybe she'll stop by to work the corners in the Sunshine State.