Fully Launched

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09.12.07


In the movie version of To Kill a Mockingbird, there’s a moment late in the film where Miss Maudie Atkinson tells Scout and Jem, “There are some men in this world who are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us.” She’s talking about the lawyer Atticus Finch, whose job includes standing up to the prejudices and intolerance of the racially divided town of Maycomb.

Those same words could also apply to Sam, who works in a basement taking phone reservations at a popular New York restaurant in Becky Mode’s hysterically funny one-actor play Fully Committed. His is a job that involves juggling bad-mannered and demanding customers, withstanding an onslaught of condescension and petty cruelty, assuaging the egos of the manic-depressive maitre d’ and the passive-aggressive owner-chef, and occasionally cleaning up soiled restrooms, all while squeezing reservations into a calendar that is completely booked–excuse me, “fully committed”–for weeks and weeks. By the end of the 90-minute play, poor Sam has earned his place among men like Atticus Finch and the other unsung heroes who must toil and sweat and say nice things to rude people every day of their lives.

Unlike Atticus Finch, however, Sam–to use the vernacular of New York basement dwellersis– fucking hilarious. Played on alternate nights by actors Dan Saski and Justin Scheuer, Sam is a marvelous theatrical invention whom we get to watch evolve and grow over the course of a single busy pre-Christmas day in which the struggling and discouraged would-be actor finds himself manning the phones all alone and ultimately discovering a grain of self-determination that he didn’t know he had.

What is marvelous about the script is that the actor playing Sam is also required to play all the characters he talks to on the phone or on the restaurant’s intercom. On opening night, Scheuer was the actor in the hot seat, morphing seamlessly from Sam to the chef to the haughty Mrs. Van Deveere (whose husband may have invented Saran Wrap) to the pestering gay assistant of a famous actress (“No female waitstaff at the table, please!”), back to Sam and so on.

Much of the humor is broad, but a great deal of it is subtle; Sam, as played by Scheuer, always answers the phone with the same measured reading of “Good morning, reservations, can you hold please?” no matter what has just occurred or how flustered and overwhelmed he feels, a schtick that just gets funnier and funnier as the show proceeds. Even Atticus Finch, who knows a thing or two about thankless jobs, would be amused.

Very nicely directed–with a strong sense of humor and humanity–by Argo Thompson (who played the part of Sam in a popular Actors Theatre production of the play in 2002), this production of Fully Committed is more than a first-rate staging of a very funny play. It also marks the beginning of a new phase in the evolution of the Sixth Street Playhouse, which now adds the small 99-seat studio theater, built next door to the larger G. K. Hardt Theatre (recently named for a late benefactor). /p>

The studio, which will remind regular theatergoers of the wonderful black-box Actors Theatre space at the old Luther Burbank Center, will be Sixth Street’s “experimental” area, where smaller, edgier, less-mainstream works will be staged as part of the new annual Studio Series. After Committed, the studio will offer the world premiere of Robert Reich’s Public Exposure, a David Mamet festival and Heather Raffo’s Nine Parts of Desire.

Committed is a good choice to inaugurate the new theater space, in part because Actors Theatre had such success with it in the past. If the rest of the season is as good as the start, we can look forward to some very interesting theater from the creative forces at the studio.

Fully Committed‘ runs Friday&–Sunday through Sept. 29. Friday&–Saturday at 8pm; Sunday at 2pm. Studio Theatre, Sixth Street Playhouse, 52 W. Sixth St., Santa Rosa. $12&–$18. Phone 707.523.4185.


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Algae Action

09.12.07

Nestled within the dry and brittle grasses of my yard, there is a green patch of earth, unexpectedly lush with a thick swath of large, leafed comfrey, towering borage and leggy peppermint. I don’t water this part of my yard; it just is this way. Lately, however, it’s been extra lush, suspiciously so for late summer, and so last week I bent down to feel the soil with my fingers. It was wet to the touch. There is no longer any mystery regarding where my wastewater goes. Shower water, bath water, dish water, washing-machine water, toilet water–it must all be right here, under a mini NorCal jungle.

I live outside city limits, but what about everyone else? Where does their wastewater go? Naturally, when I heard through the green vine that a Sonoma State University professor, a local green builder and the director for project development for the city of Santa Rosa have teamed up to install an experimental algae wastewater scrubber at Santa Rosa’s Laguna Treatment Plant, I simply had to go there.

Through a triad of interviews, I learned that there is a lot that happens to water once it goes to the Laguna Treatment Plant. It is filtered and treated, oxygenated, treated again and practically annihilated until it becomes, for all practical purposes, comparably innocuous. Next up, the water sits nestled in a 40-acre lake, where it oxygenates some more. Then it gets portioned off to farmers who irrigate their fields and wineries with it, or is piped to the Geysers–around 11 million gallons of it per day–where it is eventually converted into 85 megawatts of electricity per year. Oh, and sometimes, when the rains come, just a little bit of it, a sip, is let off into a couple of local waterways. No more then 5 percent. But still.

Though nearly half of the world’s population would find the finished product that comes out of the city’s Laguna Treatment Plant drinkable, the North Coast Regional Water Quality Control Board thinks this is not good enough. The treated wastewater, and we’re talking about up to 21 million gallons per day, still contains excess nutrients, nitrogen and phosphorous, predominately, that promote unwanted growth of plants in waterways, not to mention the entry of heavy metals into our ecosystems.

To help solve this problem, Dr. Michael Cohen, professor of biology at SSU, along with the help of graduate student Catherine Hare, have been studying the ability of algae to remove pollutants from treated wastewater. Dell Tredinnick, director of project developments for the city of Santa Rosa, looks specifically for green projects that can make, or at least save, money for the city. This is his job, and he’s obviously good at it, because when Dr. Cohen’s proposal crossed his desk, he approved the funding to build an experimental algae scrubber at the treatment plant.

Cohen had already been working for some time on a trial system at SSU, but in order for the project to grow, he needed a larger facility and ready access to treated wastewater. Contractor Bob Duckworth, a graduate of SSU’s green building program who specializes in energy-efficient building and design, was also fascinated by the possibilities of this project, and eager to team up with Cohen in order to make the algae scrubber a viable reality.

I met Duckworth at the treatment plant after work, ready to take on the visual challenge of witnessing millions of gallons of Santa Rosa’s finest. The sight of a lovely little brown duck, floating on the surface of one of the treatment pools, was indeed memorable, but not as memorable as what Duckworth showed me next. Contrary to the large processing reservoirs I first observed, the six shallow, algae-filled ponds are surprisingly full of life, and not in a creepy way like with the duck.

Duckworth explained how the treated wastewater flowing into the ponds is first dechlorinated through an oxygenation process and then fed, via a diagonal pattern, from pond to pond, all the while being scrubbed of toxins by algae and duckweed. Small fish dart just below the surface, and a couple of dragonflies dipped and swerved. I’ve probably swum in worse.

Over the next year, Cohen and his colleagues will study the system, test the water and vary the plant life in order to establish whether or not this could be the next best thing since the flushing toilet. As an added incentive, the harvested algae could be converted into biofuel, for the city’s fleet of work trucks, and into methane to fuel the treatment plant.

Ever the enthusiast, I asked Bob if I might be able to put a small-scale algae scrubber in my yard. The system would be an improvement over what I have going on now, and there’s something strangely soothing about the algae scrubbers–all of this revolting wastewater being transformed into something with fishes in it. It feels a little Zen. But Duckworth shook his head. This is not a science experiment meant to help a single person with a foundering leach field; it’s an experiment designed to help save the world.

Want to see it for yourself? Thirty-minute tours of Santa Rosa’s Laguna Wastewater Treatment Plant are available by appointment. 4300 Llano Road, Santa Rosa. Phone 707.543.3350


Review: ‘3:10 to Yuma’

September 12-18, 2007

After the success of Walk the Line, director James Mangold tries to make 3:10 to Yuma a Western to end all Westerns. This is a strategy that’s been tried before (in 1969, for instance, in a little movie called Once Upon a Time in the West). If 3:10 is a hit, it will be because of the power of the Western theme itself, and not because of the social commentary and bric-a-brac with which Mangold loads this film.

Debt-harried, maimed Civil War vet Dan Evans (Christian Bale) is ranching an arid patch in southern Arizona. As the film begins, his barn is burned by regulators from the Southern Pacific railroad who want him to sell out his property. Evans doesn’t shoot the marauders, which seems like weakness to his chafing adolescent son Will (Logan Lerman), a 14-year-old intoxicated by dime novels. Evans has no room for adventure, though, with his youngest son gasping with tuberculosis. But then he has to face the disappointment of his weary wife Alice (maybe they should have found someone wearier than Gretchen Mol). Having to raise some money fast, Evans is forced to herd his scrawny cattle into town.

Nearby, the actual stuff of dime novels is playing out. The fearsome Ben Wade (Russell Crowe), armed with a pistol nicknamed “the Hand of God,” has engineered a robbery of the Wells Fargo stagecoach. His psycho lieutenant Charlie Prince (Ben Foster) helps to shoot the survivors. Among them is the hired gun Byron McElroy (Peter Fonda), who was protecting the coach’s gold.

Evans and Will stumble onto the crime scene; Wade and his bandits help themselves to the rancher’s horses. Though gut-shot at close range, McElroy survives the attack. After a quick operation from the town’s veterinarian (Alan Tudyk of Serenity, droll as always), Evans aids in Wade’s capture.An unsteady posse heads out: one crippled, broken rancher; one bespectacled horse doctor; one high-handed weakling of a Southern Pacific executive (Dallas Roberts); and one wounded lawman. They escort Wade to the railhead at Contention, to ship him off on the 3:10 train to the territorial prison at Yuma. Wade’s armed and dangerous gang is at large, ready to spring him during the trip across the Apache-haunted open country.

Novelist Elmore Leonard’s story fueled the original version of this, a minor but efficient oater of 1957 in which Glenn Ford played the thoroughly evil robber and Van Heflin was the desperate rancher who helped round him up.

I interviewed Elmore Leonard once, and asked him why he’d stopped writing Westerns. Leonard said that, in his opinion, the Westerns dried up because of firepower itself. Once audiences had heard automatic weapons, they were less interested in six-shooters. Well, Mangold has that avenue covered, and the final shootout in 3:10 to Yuma is a 101-gun salute, with most of a plywood town of Contention getting splintered.

Just as Vietnam intruded into Westerns from 1965 to the early 1980s, so Mangold stirs in a bit of Iraq: an Abu Ghraib torture sequence and Evans’ disillusionment speech&–he lost his leg in a war that decided nothing and got paid chump-change from the government for the honor.All this is distracting enough, but there’s also too much identification build-up between the two protagonists; Wade is even shown as a Renaissance man, getting philosophical and doing little pencil sketches in between murders. Yet there’s enough of the basic pleasure of the Western so that much of 3:10 to Yuma works and certainly comes at the right time. This has been called the cinematic summer of “bromance” (to use Dave Carnie’s word to describe Knocked Up, Superbad, Chuck and Larry, etc.), and Crowe and Bale’s moral duel is a crowd-pleasing ending. Ultimately, the last line in 3:10 to Yuma ought to be the one Joanne Dru delivered in Red River: “Anybody with half a mind would know you two love each other.”

‘3:10 to Yuma’ opens everywhere on Friday, Sept. 7.


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Lit: Jack Kerouac’s ‘On the Road’ turns 50

Drake’s Beach Cafe

Editor’s note: First Bite is a new concept in restaurant writing. We invite you to come along with our writers as they–informed, intelligent eaters like yourselves–have a simple meal at an area restaurant, just like you do. This is not a go-three-times, try-everything-on-the-menu report; rather, this is a quick snapshot of a single experience.

My dining experience at Drakes Beach Cafe was so exceptional, I almost couldn’t write this. It was, well, sublime. When have I ever before driven three hours roundtrip to eat anywhere? But, oh, what a drive: through lush pastureland, a thick shawl of fog thrown over the shoulders of the hills, through Point Reyes Station, to earth’s end. On a Saturday, there’s only one seating for dinner. Imagine, a restaurant that doesn’t turn tables like a fry cook flipping flapjacks! Owner Jane Kennedy explains they aren’t in it for the money; the restaurant is a labor of love. And love circles the place like a drunken gull.

When we arrived, other diners had gathered on the weathered deck, waiting for the doors to open, getting acquainted. It felt more like a dinner party or, as my companion Doug said, a three-hour tour. Kennedy greeted us at the door. A more charming hostess–or waitress, for that matter–I cannot imagine; with a staff of just four, everyone doubles up.

The small dining room is furnished casually, with one wall of windows facing the Pacific. For a better view of the ocean, you’d have to book passage on a steamer. Drake’s has no liquor license (National Park rules), but corkage is free, so patrons brings their own wine. If anyone forgets, folks are happy to share. With everyone ordering all at once, and a small staff, you have to wait for your food, but who cares? Doug and I nibbled on Brickmaiden bread dipped in McEvoy olive oil, chatting and canoodling, while one side of the room toasted the other. Such intimacy! Such , Gemütlichkeit!

Kennedy and fellow owner Ben Angulo take locavorism to new heights–or reduced lengths. Many of the ingredients come from organic purveyors a stone’s throw from the beach. We ordered half of the seven items offered; with Drake’s Beach offering satisfying but not too large portions, it’s the thing to do. The red butter lettuce salad ($9) topped with shaved farmhouse cheddar was simple and near perfect, and the summer vegetable chèvre stack ($13) a vertical masterpiece of king trumpet mushrooms, squash, heirloom tomatoes, roasted onions and pesto sauce.

The grilled arctic char ($12) glazed with Mirin white soy glaze, cilantro-lime gremolata and shiitake mushrooms had my name written all over it, as was true for Doug’s Lunny Farm ribeye steak ($18), grilled in balsamic vinegar and served with red onions and Japanese sweet potatoes. Everything was fresh, piquant, elegant, but not at all fussy. We skipped the Strauss ice cream for dessert, but a complimentary square of Dagoba chocolate ended things on a deeply private note. Such riches for so little; without wine to jack the price, the tab was quite reasonable.

Add the postprandial stroll along the misty strand and the conversation inspired by the meal, the surf and the company, and you can see why I didn’t want to write this review. Nobody else should go there! It belongs to my love and me! How many restaurants inspire such ardor or such possessiveness?

Drake’s Beach Cafe1 Drakes Beach Road, Point Reyes National Seashore. Lunch, Thursday–Friday, 11am to 3pm; Saturday–Sunday, 11am to 6pm. Dinner, Friday, seatings at 6pm and 8pm; Saturday, 7:30pm only. Reservations necessary. 415.669.1297.



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Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.

Profile: Mountain Goats record in Cotati

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music & nightlife |

Photograph by Derek Goodwin

By Gabe Meline

Although it may not register as much of a blip on the general population’s radar, it nonetheless gives a palpitating kick to announce that the Mountain Goats have been recording in our very own backyard at Cotati’s Prairie Sun studios. To select in-the-know fans of the excellent band, this promises two things: a new album by the band’s prolific songsmith John Darnielle, and, more importantly, a chance to spot him out cruising the produce section of Oliver’s Market. Mountain Goats fans are diehards and wouldn’t be above out-and-out stalking.

Darnielle’s outstanding talents first came my way in the form of Tallahassee, a richly rewarding theme album about a down-and-out couple who buy a ramshackle Florida cottage in which to drink themselves to death. With an incisive knack for painting situational imagery, Darnielle crafts a world halfway between Raymond Carver and Joni Mitchell, singing in a detached, perceptive clip about the ultimate tragedy of faded love. It came out five years ago and still reveals new, sparkling intricacies with each listen.

I caught up with Darnielle in the middle of recording, and though it was hard to refrain from asking him obsessive questions about his new songs, I needn’t have worried; Darnielle’s “very superstitious” about talking about recording sessions while they’re happening. As yet untitled, this is the band’s third album recorded at Prairie Sun, and along with sheer familiarity, Darnielle cites the secluded farm life at the venerable Cotati compound as a recurring attraction. “It’s rural, which I value—I don’t want distractions when I’m working,” he says. “I’m not a very social dude, I fear.”

Opting instead to spend his free hours plowing through War and Peace (“A considerably better read than its reputation would suggest”), it’s safe to say Darnielle won’t be slamming whiskey sours and dancing on the pool tables at Red’s Recovery Room anytime soon, and come to think of it, that’s probably a relief to fans of his bookish charm and understated insight. “I’m guessing a lot of people like to relax and get loose when they’re done with a day’s work,” he says, “but I like to try and keep my eyes on the road for 10 days straight.”

No Washoe House? No Tradewind’s?

“I went to In-N-Out Burger once for a grilled cheese sandwich,” Darnielle offers, divulging the one temptation of the outside world with a siren song strong to lure him away from his 10-ton Tolstoy. “You may laugh,” he admits, “but until you’re an expatriate Californian, you don’t really know what you’re missing.”




FIND A MUSIC REVIEW

Mill Valley goes to hell

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September 5-11, 2007

When I think of all the records that I’ve bought at Village Music over the years, one stands out: a 45 of Patti Page singing “Let Me Go, Lover!” Page’s over-the-top plea for romantic freedom was a playlist staple of the now-defunct easy listening station KABL 960-AM, and every time I caught it on the airwaves, I tried to remember as many words as I could, because I couldn’t find the damn record for months and months.

Yet even as I walked through the familiar half-opened Dutch door of Village Music’s front entry, I pretty much knew that I had my search sewn up. Sure enough, in a box marked “P” from Village Music’s 45 room, I procured the elusive song. Listening to it as I type these words today, it still sounds great.Just about everyone has a similar story about Village Music. At the end of September, sadly, owner John Goddard will close the store where he’s worked for 50 years. It’s a blow to fans of the most superior musical medium in the universe–vinyl–as much as it is a sad commentary on the way money can destroy community institutions that drip with character, culture and history.

The painful irony is that Village Music, which hasn’t been making enough money, is closing largely because its rent is too high–a direct outcome of the great wealth and accompanying property values in Mill Valley. Marin County, in fact, is the wealthiest county per capita in the United States, which essentially means that its residents aren’t in the market for a $2 Patti Page 45 from the shop down the street. They want something high-tech and shiny for their new $60,000 home theater system.

To this strange strata of humanity, Goddard is a “character,” a lovable weirdo, and all condescending praises about how “funky” his store is won’t pay the $10,000 monthly rent. It’s like the lemonade stand: no one wants to see the all-American sight of a kid selling fresh-squeezed lemonade on the side of the road for a quarter disappear into a forgotten world of Norman Rockwell paintings, but in reality, how many of us pull over?

Double-punched with the impending rent-driven closure of the Sweetwater Saloon, which for 30 years has given to its community a goldmine of live music, it’s pretty safe to say that Mill Valley is going to hell in a freshly waxed, dual-airbag handbasket. What’s great, at least, are the final-hour honors Goddard’s been rightfully receiving; along with Village Music’s 45 room used as the cover of Gilles Peterson’s most recent compilation (see above), Goddard has scored big with a vow from DJ Shadow to DJ in the store every day in September until closing day, Sept. 30. The Sweetwater, meanwhile, is looking for a new location; its last scheduled show is with the Mother Hips on Saturday, Sept. 22.

After that, I guess we’ll all be chillin’ at Wilkes Bashford. See you in the handbag aisle.


News Briefs

September 5-11, 2007

Battling Bags

The trend toward banning plastic bags is growing in the North Bay, sparking organized opposition–including lawsuits. Using the name North Bay Coalition to Support Plastic Bag Recycling, a group of plastic bag manufacturers and recyclers filed a claim Aug. 24 against the town of Fairfax, which recently approved a ban effective Feb. 10. Members of the lawsuit coalition include Emerald Packaging Inc., Fresh Pak Corporation, Advance Polybag Inc., Grand Packaging Inc., Hilex Poly Company LLC, Superbag Operating Ltd. and Kevin Kelly, an Oakland resident.

Even with the court case, Fairfax Mayor Larry Bragman says it’s not a matter of whether a ban will eventually be in place, but simply when and how. “If in fact their legal position has merit, the townspeople can seek to rid themselves of this plague by going directly to the ballot,” Bragman asserts. “I have no doubt that if that is done, it will succeed.”

The lawsuit asks the court to require an environmental impact review prior to enforcing the new law, in order to explore any “unintended consequences” of the ban. Earlier in August, a group called the Coalition to Support Plastic Bag Recycling filed a similar suit in Alameda Superior Court, seeking to block Oakland’s plastic bag ban, which is slated to start Jan. 15.

Modeled after a similar law adopted this spring in San Francisco, Oakland’s ordinance will require large retailers to provide customers with compost-able plastic bags or with paper ones. Fairfax’s recently approved ordinance recommends the use of reusable canvas bags in place of plastic or paper. But plastics industry spokesmen argue that most people will simply substitute paper bags for plastic ones, failing to recycle them or doing so improperly. The lawsuit charges that paper bags will take up more space in landfills, and will require more money and energy to make, ship and store than the small, lightweight and inexpensive plastic versions. The lawsuit argues that encouraging the recycling of plastic bags is a better approach than banning them.

However, sentiment against these ubiquitous objects is spreading.The Healdsburg City Council is forming a committee to explore the options for a ban. Other North Bay municipalities may follow suit. The County of Marin has already started a campaign to convince consumers and businesses to voluntarily stop using plastic bags

The actual numbers involved are staggering. Worldwide, it’s estimated that 500 billion to 1 trillion plastic bags are used annually–more than 1 million bags a minute. In California, it’s more than 19 billion a year, creating 147,000 tons of waste. Banning these items is “a movement that’s picking up momentum,” says Fairfax Mayor Bragman.


Tear the Roof Off

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September 5-11, 2007

Modest Mouse are the big headliner at next weekend’s Treasure Island Festival in San Francisco, an unprecedented two-day lineup bursting at the seams with the brightest names in electronica and indie rock: Built to Spill, Thievery Corporation, Spoon, M.I.A., Gotan Project, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, DJ Shadow and M. Ward.

It’s an honor that puts a knowing smile on the faces of a few longtime fans. Before topping this impressive heap, before the Grammy nominations, before recruiting Johnny Marr and before debuting at No. 1 on the Billboard charts, Modest Mouse were just a scruffy little band that played a completely reckless party at a tiny duplex in Santa Rosa. It was a night of flowing libations, irritated cops, angry neighbors and loud, loud bands. In fact, Modest Mouse were so loud, and the party so out of control, that the landlord showed up the next day to deliver an eviction notice. Everyone says it was worth it.

In 1996, supporting their just-released debut album, This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About, Modest Mouse were a relatively unknown trio with a few holes in their touring schedule. After a club date in San Francisco with no show booked the next night, the band were begged by earnest fans Matt Carrillo and Mike Cassanova—who didn’t have the foggiest idea where the band would play—to come up to Santa Rosa.

“They were like, ‘Fuck yeah!'” remembers Carrillo, who says that after being invited back to the band’s van to toss back a few beers, a plan was hatched. Modest Mouse would play at Cassanova’s house on Orchard Street the very next night.With no time to flyer, the guys woke up the next morning and started calling everyone they knew. Modest Mouse showed up at the duplex and swiftly received a tour of the corner liquor store, filling the remaining hours before the party by recording some impromptu songs together on a four-track recorder (Carrillo still has the cassette somewhere). Carrillo’s band, Edaline, played first that night. Who played second? Nobody can remember, and nobody seems to care.

“What I distinctly remember is flashlights rapping on the windows,” says partygoer Kevin Buchholz, “which was pretty freaky.” Everyone knew it was the cops, but the band kept playing—turning it up, even—and no one answered the door at first. Buchholz was filming the show and still has grainy footage of what happened next: police officers detaining, arresting and pepper-spraying many of his friends. Scuffles poured out onto the street. Someone called 911. The party, needless to say, was over.The next morning, the groggy tenants of the duplex were roused by another loud knock on the door. The final straw, the landlord said. Everyone’s out in 30 days. Modest Mouse had officially caused an eviction.

Years later, Buchholz would run into Brock in Chicago, and Brock’s eyes lit up at the mention of that insane night on Orchard Street. “Isaac, with his lisp, you know, was like, ‘That iss one of the besst sshows we ever played’,” says Buchholz. “That night was legendary, it was emotional, it was all over the place. They just tore the roof off.”

Modest Mouse headline the Treasure Island Festival, taking place Sept. 15&–16 in San Francisco. For more info, see www.treasureislandfestival.com.


Letters to the Editor

September 5-11, 2007

Sense and Sensibility

So the rumors are true! After 9-11, irony is dead! Heavy-handed speculations about J. K. Rowling’s secret motivations and political leanings, based on her awkward replies to earnest interviewers, miss the point that Rowling, in the tradition of Jane Austen and other English writers, uses words to convey a meaning opposite to the literal meaning (The Byrne Report, Aug. 18 and 29, Letters et al).

Describing an elitist and plutocratic society, she is sympathetic to the struggles of the individuals within that society. Enjoying the perfect pitch of her emotional ear, I have never been under the impression that she was providing any kind of ideal blueprint for anyone to follow. Her wry description of the original statue in the Ministry of Magic in The Order of the Phoenix was so glorious! So pompous! So silly! In the last book, it was replaced by a more sinister statue that blatantly expressed the goals of some wizards, but I saw this as confirmation that the author’s goals were not the goals of her wizards. Finally, when all was resolved in the tradition of great comedies, with marriages all around, I was fully convinced that she was mocking those who insist they know what is good for others, whether wizards or aristocrats.

Silly me! I’d best just get back to seeing if Jane Austen has any more advice to help me catch a rich, white husband. As for Mr. Byrne and his critics, I’m sure that a nice pot of tea and a Monty Python DVD would vastly improve their moods.

Carol Kraemer Windsor

Vegetarians Make Less Gas

I was very impressed with Leonardo DiCaprio’s powerful documentary The 11th Hour (“Time’s Up,” Aug. 29). The film depicts the devastating impacts of global warming, including droughts, hurricanes and flooding of coastal areas. It features interviews with the brightest minds on our planet about the causes of this man-made environmental crisis and possible solutions.

A powerful solution was suggested last November in a report by the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organization. The report found that meat production accounts for 18 percent of greenhouse gas emissions that cause global warming. That’s more than automobiles!

Carbon dioxide, the chief greenhouse gas, is emitted by burning forests to create animal pastures and combustion of fossil fuels to operate farm machinery, trucks, refrigeration equipment, factory farms and slaughterhouses. Much more damaging methane and nitrous oxide are released from digestive tracts of cattle and from animal waste cesspools, respectively.

The good news is that each of us can do our part to reduce global warming on our next trip to the supermarket. More details are available at www.CoolYourDiet.org.

Steven Alderson Santa Rosa

Spare us the Sob Stories

I’m in my 50s and have always lived in California, except for six and a half years in Oregon, and about a year elsewhere in the Navy. I remember California as a good place to live. It no longer is. I remember Santa Rosa in the early 1970s at a third of its present population; 55,000 was an ideal size for Santa Rosa. Much open space existed between Cotati and the SSU campus. Now it’s solid development. No criminal gangs operated in Santa Rosa, and Highway 101 was never congested. This isn’t “good old days” reminiscing.

Approximately 10 million people living in this state are foreign-born, according to the Center for Immigration Studies. Immigration is by far the biggest contributor to this area’s, and to this state’s, population explosion. Immigrants and their offspring will continue to swell California’s population. I feel that the massive influx of Third World immigrants is trashing California.

On one of KPFA radio’s immigrant-oriented programs, the narrator was eager for the day when California would become a Latino-majority state. Don’t worry, it will soon happen. Meanwhile, spare us the sob stories about the alleged abuse of illegal immigrants’ rights (“The Bigotry Tour,” Aug. 29).

Philip Ratcliff Cloverdale

Dept. of Forehead Slapping, Pt. II

Our Fall Arts listings (“Fall into Arts,” Aug. 22) have proven to be tarry duds, a shameful state for which we continue ye olde apologia. This week’s revelation is that the Redwood Arts Council begins its new season Sept. 28 with the Kronos Quartet, not whatever pablum we may have printed (OK, we printed last year’s pablum). We regret and then some.

The Ed. Anonymous


Fully Launched

09.12.07In the movie version of To Kill a Mockingbird, there's a moment late in the film where Miss Maudie Atkinson tells Scout and Jem, "There are some men in this world who are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us." She's talking about the lawyer Atticus Finch, whose job includes standing up to the prejudices and intolerance of...

Algae Action

09.12.07 Nestled within the dry and brittle grasses of my yard, there is a green patch of earth, unexpectedly lush with a thick swath of large, leafed comfrey, towering borage and leggy peppermint. I don't water this part of my yard; it just is this way. Lately, however, it's been extra lush, suspiciously so for late summer, and so last...

Review: ‘3:10 to Yuma’

September 12-18, 2007After the success of Walk the Line, director James Mangold tries to make 3:10 to Yuma a Western to end all Westerns. This is a strategy that's been tried before (in 1969, for instance, in a little movie called Once Upon a Time in the West). If 3:10 is a hit, it will be because of the...

Profile: Mountain Goats record in Cotati

music & nightlife | Photograph by Derek Goodwin ...

Mill Valley goes to hell

September 5-11, 2007When I think of all the records that I've bought at Village Music over the years, one stands out: a 45 of Patti Page singing "Let Me Go, Lover!" Page's over-the-top plea for romantic freedom was a playlist staple of the now-defunct easy listening station KABL 960-AM, and every time I caught it on the airwaves, I...

News Briefs

September 5-11, 2007 Battling BagsThe trend toward banning plastic bags is growing in the North Bay, sparking organized opposition--including lawsuits. Using the name North Bay Coalition to Support Plastic Bag Recycling, a group of plastic bag manufacturers and recyclers filed a claim Aug. 24 against the town of Fairfax, which recently approved a ban effective Feb. 10. Members of the...

Tear the Roof Off

September 5-11, 2007Modest Mouse are the big headliner at next weekend's Treasure Island Festival in San Francisco, an unprecedented two-day lineup bursting at the seams with the brightest names in electronica and indie rock: Built to Spill, Thievery Corporation, Spoon, M.I.A., Gotan Project, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, DJ Shadow and M. Ward.It's an honor that puts a knowing...

Letters to the Editor

September 5-11, 2007Sense and Sensibility So the rumors are true! After 9-11, irony is dead! Heavy-handed speculations about J. K. Rowling's secret motivations and political leanings, based on her awkward replies to earnest interviewers, miss the point that Rowling, in the tradition of Jane Austen and other English writers, uses words to convey a meaning opposite to the literal...
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