The Byrne Report

December 27, 2006-January 2, 2007

The headline for a half-page story in the front section of the Santa Rosa Press Democrat caught my eye: “AMAZING FAT-FIGHTING SUPER PILL DEVOURS FAT!” The story (Oct. 6) looked just like a newspaper article. Reading it, I learned that I can lose 40 pounds by spending only $129! Oh, yeah, there was a tiny blurb at the top of the article: “Paid Advertisement.”

When Santa Rosa’s daily newspaper isn’t flooding my snail box with pounds of junk called “Xpressmail,” it is dangling the (slim) chance of winning a $1,000 gift certificate for subscribing. The company wants you to subscribe so that it can charge hefty rates to advertisers for pushing product to people with equity loans. The PD recently offered me 10 weeks for only $10. The next week it went down to 26 weeks for $13. Not worth it when the weather forecast on the masthead is obscured by a stick-um ad.

It is getting harder and harder to distinguish reporting from advertising as the PD‘s news hole shrinks. Stories and photos about shopping often take up 50 percent of the space on the front page, followed by rehashing gory traffic accidents, and little or no exposure of the power brokers who run Sonoma County. Indeed, the PD espouses a chamber of commerce mentality on most issues, as does its owner, the New York Times Company. A Sept. 17 editorial supporting the erection of a Wal-Mart store is a case in point. “Wal-Mart has suffered from negative publicity about its employment practices,” the editorial wagged, as if the problem was poor public relations, not worker exploitation!

Bleys Rose, 56, has been a hard-working PD reporter for 17 years. He is head of the Media Workers Union at the daily. In an interview, Rose explained that management operates on a principle (developed through focus groups) that the paper’s readers prefer lifestyle stories over articles about the government. (Supposedly, they like to read about teenage suicides, but not much about how the Santa Rosa chamber powerhouse, Agilent Technologies, profits off the Iraq War.) Rose says that PD profit margins were about 25 percent in 2000. Competition from Internet advertising has cut it down to 14 percent to 16 percent, which would be considered bountiful by most businesses. But not at the PD.

“The way the company saves money is by cutting staff, dumping healthcare costs on employees and not filling vacant positions,” Rose remarks. Consequently, the newspaper cannot cover basic governmental meetings or investigate corruption. Instead, the company is dumping the town-hall beats and throwing financial resources into its consumer lifestyle magazines, Savor and Santa Rosa.

I asked PD publisher Bruce Kyse, who used to edit the PD, for an interview about these important matters. He declined, saying, “I generally don’t think it’s a good idea to talk publicly about the business end of our operations.”

This is not surprising, considering that Kyse sits on the board of directors of the Santa Rosa Chamber of Commerce. His colleague, John Burns, publisher of the New York Times-owned Argus-Courier is a director of the Petaluma chamber. And the publisher of the North Bay Business Journal (also owned by the New York Times Company) is on the Santa Rosa chamber board. The two nonprofit chambers pull down $700,000 a year in government grants and spend tens of thousands of dollars a year on local newspaper advertising, according to their tax returns.

Chambers of commerce traditionally endorse chamber-friendly politicians and business-friendly ballot initiatives. For the Nov. 8 election, the PD and Santa Rosa chamber recommendations matched exactly, including opposing a campaign-finance-reform initiative. No shock there, since Sonoma County’s premier political consultant, Herb Williams, also sits on the chamber’s board.

Corporate chamber members fuel local elections with campaign donations to favored candidates. Interestingly, a national watchdog group, Public Citizen, just filed a complaint with the IRS accusing the U.S. Chamber of Commerce (also a nonprofit) for failing to report paying millions of donated dollars to manufacture attack ads for election campaigns. Naturally, components of the television and newspaper empires run by the New York Times Co. are not opposed to breathlessly reporting on mud-slinging political contests. When they heat up, companies splurge on political advertising.

In its newsletter, the California Chamber of Commerce brags that its members, which include the Petaluma and Santa Rosa chambers, used their nonprofit government dollars this year in Sacramento to successfully lobby the legislature to kill an increase in the minimum wage. It also killed various pieces of legislation to increase corporate taxes, to strengthen unemployment-insurance protections and to regulate the telecommunications industry. In short, the chamber’s priorities are opposite to the needs of ordinary people.

Ditto with the Press Democrat.

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Tao of Santa

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December 20-26, 2006

‘There’s nothing more empowering,” says Mickey McGowan, “than the act of putting on a Santa Claus suit. If you’ve ever done it, you’d feel the same way. You feel so powerful in that suit, you might as well be a god from another planet.”

Mickey McGowan, who owns his own Santa suit just in case the need to feel like a god arises, is the curator of Marin County’s legendary Unknown Museum, currently not open to the public but still alive in the memory of folks who remember strolling through rooms full of castoff items from the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. A collector and seller of vintage records and memorabilia, his opinions on popular culture have been featured in books, magazines and on television shows since the late 1970s.

I first met McGowan at a screening of Joe Dante’s monster-movie homage Matinee, and every couple of years or so, I call up to invite him to another movie for a bit of enlightened postfilm conversation. Being that he is also a ginormous fan of Christmas, with a massive collection of authentic plastic Christmas decorations to go along with that Santa suit–and also that he has strong opinions about the classic 3-D movies of old–I invited McGowan to see and discuss Disney’s new 3-D reconfiguration of Tim Burton and Henry Selick’s macabre masterpiece The Nightmare Before Christmas. It’s the gorgeously stop-motion story of Jack Skellington, the king of Halloween Town, who experiences a midlife crisis and, in a fit of manic-depressive obsession, attempts to replace Santa on Christmas Eve. McGowan is mixed on the notion of reengineering 2-D movies to look 3-D.

In the new Nightmare, the beautiful cinematography of the original is somewhat eclipsed by the newly dimensional snowflakes, bobbin pumpkin heads and straight-at-you projectiles. Still, he feels that if any movie is going to be 3-D, the otherworldly landscapes of Nightmare are a logical fit.

“Three-D is a magical process,” says McGowan, “so a magical movie like Nightmare Before Christmas is a good choice. But the truth is, as much as I love the old 3-D movies like It Came from Outer Space and House of Wax, the process has never been more than a gimmick, and it’s usually just a distraction. Nightmare Before Christmas didn’t need to be made 3-D, because it always kind of was 3-D. It was a classic innocent Christmas movie the way it was. It was magical to begin with.”

In the film, Jack Skellington is suffering seriously from job burnout, and is tired of scaring people for a living. When he accidentally enters Christmas Town and begins to feel all warm and fuzzy, he tries to keep the feeling by staging an ill-conceived takeover of Christmas. Ironically, though he is initially empowered by his night of playing Santa, his crisis is resolved only when he takes the suit off and becomes himself again. McGowan still likes to think it was the act of putting on the suit that helped Jack heal his conflicted soul.

“Putting on the Santa suit is a form of therapy,” he laughs. “I think a lot of people could benefit from it. Once Jack puts that suit on, he does feel powerful; he feels that he’s part of something greater than himself. He takes it too far and things don’t work out for Jack as Santa, but I think a lot of us can identify with that urge. That’s part of why the movie has become such classic.”

In McGowan’s view, there are few actors alive who wouldn’t jump at the chance to play St. Nick, but one doesn’t have to be an actor, or an animated skeleton, to do it. Every costume store worth its salt has at least one Santa Suit on the racks.

“If you think of it, playing Santa is the only theatrical work that some of us ever do,” McGowan says, “but it really is the ultimate role. Forget Hamlet or King Lear. Santa Claus is the greatest part in the world. You should try it. Go rent a Santa Claus suit. Seriously. You’ll never be the same.”


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SexyBack: The Hot 13 Challenge

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December 20-26, 2006

When you are lucky enough to bring that special someone back to your place and you’re looking to, you know, score, background music is crucial. To set the mood, you want something relaxing yet stimulating, romantic yet assertive. And unless your special someone is very special, Weird Al just isn’t going to cut it.

Outside of blindfolded string musicians bowing soft sounds for the frolicking of polyamorous aristocrats, make-out music was hard to come by before the advent of recording. Those with musical capacities could seduce with song, yes, but at some point they’d have to put the lyre down in order to get dirty.

So we should consider ourselves lucky, as we have slow jams, do-wop ballads, cool jazz and throbbing techno in our arsenal, spanning moods from frisky to sentimental. Justin Timberlake says he is bringing sexy back, but did it ever leave? Given that at least 50 percent of the pop songs ever written are about sex in some aspect, I’d have to say no.

Mr. Timberlake’s loss is your gain. It means that the world, dear Bohemian reader, is your oyster. We invite you to collect the 13 sexiest songs you know of to create the ultimate make-out mix and submit it to the Hot 13 Challenge.

Regular Bohemian readers may recall last year’s , a contest that elicited dozens of entries, all heartfelt. (To those of you who participated in the Sad 13 and are wondering where your promised “I Like Sad Music” pin is, I must confess that they, along with all of your wonderful mix CDs, are in several shoeboxes under my desk. Sorry. I’ll send them out real soon. We still love you.)

The experience was rewarding enough for a reprise, though this go-around we wanted something a little less . . . depressing. In the Sad 13 Challenge, readers showed us that music that was dear to their hearts. For the Hot 13 Challenge, show us what is dear to your loins.

The Hot 13 Challenge is all in the name of fun–and, of course, sexiness. Why 13 songs? It’s a good number, and you gotta draw the line somewhere. Other than that, your entry must be on CD or cassette tape and include a list of songs and their artists, no other rules apply. If Tiny Tim, Dr. Elmo and the Wiggles are your idea of sexy music, more power to you (although in all truthfulness, your chances of winning will be slim, but your chances of being made fun of, great).

Flow from song to song will by all means be taken into account. Cover art is strictly optional but a nice touch–though given the subject matter, if you must dip a toe into nudity, please restrict it to the softest of cores. Grossing out the judges will win you no brownie points.

In a new twist, the judging for this year’s mix CD contest will be bi-coastal (bi–how sexy!). That’s right, we’ll have a North Bay panel composed of highly skilled Bohemian professionals, plus a jaded New York panel, including yours truly heading up a handful of people who have no qualifications whatsoever except that I know them and they said yes. We must warn you that the judging process is completely unscientific, highly unregulated and very much subjective. Our intention is to keep snark levels to a minimum, though we can’t make any promises. Also, given the thousands of miles dividing our dual Hot 13 Challenge headquarters, disorganization is a distinct possibility. We’ll try our best, folks, but don’t expect this ship to sail smoothly.

Yes, yes–you’re wondering why the hell you should even bother. OK, here’s why:

(1) for a sense of community and warm fuzzy feelings; (2) because your Hot 13 Challenge mix CD might come in handy in your own personal life at some point, who knows; and (3) because the creator of the winning CD will receive a cool prize with an actual cash value and have his or her track list printed in the Bohemian‘s Sex Issue, publishing on Feb. 7, 2007. Me-ow!

To update you all on the progress of the Hot 13 Challenge, we have this year created a profile on that MySpace thing all of the kids are obsessed with. There you will be able to peruse track lists, read the Hot 13 blog, and waste time at work by posting silly comments when your boss is not looking. Visit .

And now, friends, as George Jones would say, the race is on. A tip: Slow jams of the 1980s are heavily encouraged to apply.

Send your entries, postmarked no later than Friday, Jan. 12, to the Hot 13 Challenge, North Bay Bohemian, 216 E St., Santa Rosa, CA, 95404. Please include an e-mail address or phone number. Sorry, we can’t return your entry.


The Byrne Report

December 20-26, 2006

On the Day of the Dead, I was dining out with friends, preparing to march in a candlelight parade in honor of the fallen. On my mind, of course, were the ghosts of hundreds of thousands of Iraqi and Afghani people whom we have slaughtered these past 16 years. Over key lime pie, I commented that I planned, later that evening, to go see the film Death of a President, a mockumentary about the assassination of George Walker Bush. Then I made the mistake of grinning with pleasure.

My friends, bless them, are devoted to nonviolence, and so am I, in theory and in practice. But I was looking forward to seeing GWB get topped in the movies, and it showed. My friends were appalled. “Violence begets violence,” they cautioned.

Later that night, I watched the movie in a Petaluma theater. I am sad to report that it was tedious. Plus, I had to look at Bush’s face and listen to him talk, which I generally avoid since he gives me hives. When the shots finally rang out, and the president collapsed like the sorry sack of whatever he is, there was not a wet eye in the house. Nor were there any cheers. As entertainment, the experience was on par with watching roadkill.

Driving home, a verse from the Biblical book of Revelation reverberated inside my noodle: “But the Beast was captured, and with him the False Prophet who had performed the miraculous signs on his behalf. With these signs he had deluded those who had received the mark of the Beast and worshipped his image. The two of them were thrown alive into the fiery lake of burning sulfur. The rest of them were killed with the sword that came out of the mouth of the rider on the horse, and all the birds gorged themselves on their flesh.”

Bush, naturally, reminds me of the false prophet. The beast is violence incarnate. Those wearing the mark of the beast are those among us who do nothing to stop Bush’s war on the world, i.e., most of us. If Revelation is true, we are in a world of trouble here in America. (If you see a guy riding a pale horse, run!–or pray for forgiveness.)

A few weeks after my vision, James Baker, an old devil if there ever was one, rode to rescue the false prophet who had prophesied so falsely about weapons of mass destruction, hurricane levees, Social Security and budget deficits. But Baker’s ride was in vain, because the only solution that the old devil could propose was to stay in Babylon until the Babylonians can “defend themselves.”

What planet does Baker live on? The Babylonians are defending themselves. Against us. And they have won. At a horrible price: their country is destroyed. But it is not al Qaida kicking our tanks out of oil-rich Babylon; it is enraged Iraqi people driving us out before we annihilate more of their children with bombs and blockades.

Clearly, many of our more business-minded generals are pissed by Caligula’s intransigence vis-à-vis Iraq. Defeat is starting to mess with corporate profits. I’ll bet they had a private showing of the mockumentary at the Pentagon and served Chivas and popcorn. History is odd. When President Kennedy thwarted the military-industrialists, of which the Bush family is a charter member, he was assassinated in Dallas, probably by militarists and Mafiosi. He was immediately replaced by Lyndon Johnson, a veritable Moloch in thrall to the company known today as Halliburton, and Hanoi was toast.

And when Kennedy’s brother called for an immediate pull-out from Vietnam in June 1968, he was gunned down by a guy who, to this day, claims he was brainwashed into doing it. Yes, I went to see another assassination movie, Bobby. A busload of Hollywood’s finest (liberal) actors portrayed the last day of Robert Kennedy’s life. He was running for president, and he had just won the California primary when Sirhan Sirhan popped him in the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles.

The most interesting thing about Bobby is the real footage of Kennedy campaigning in the barrios and talking eloquently about violence begetting violence. I had forgotten that politicians used to resemble human beings, before the likes of Karl Rove robotized most of them. When Bobby was over, people wept in their theater seats. For me, the contrast between the two assassinations–one real, one fictional–was awful. President Dwight Eisenhower’s warning in his valedictory speech in 1961 that the military-industrial complex was subverting democracy in America has been made obvious by the fact that the Kennedys are dead, while the Bush family thrives.

That may change, says Revelation: “But fire came down from heaven and devoured them.”

Let us pray.

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Medicare’s Fine Print

In late November and early December, three North Bay senior citizens with different healthcare needs called a toll-free number that promised “unbiased guidance” for “navigating Medicare.” In due course, each of them received identical packets recommending the same insurance plan. Only the names on the cover letters differed; it was a mass-marketing mailing sent under the cloak of personalized, altruistic assistance.

This is just one aspect of the current health-insurance morass, in which consumers must ferret out for themselves whether the advice they’re getting comes from a truly impartial source or a for-profit company. Multibillion dollar corporations have the resources to present the “facts” in a fashion that best serves their own bottom-line interests. Sometimes the origin of this information is labeled so that it’s ambiguous at best or even downright deceptive.

With the ongoing trend shifting the burden for health-insurance choices and costs from employers and the government to individuals, all age groups need to be aware of what’s going on. “Spin” is definitely a force in all aspects of society, including prescription drugs, healthcare and insurance.

In the name of reform, “original Medicare” has been joined by a myriad of rapidly evolving private options for seniors’ prescription drugs and managed healthcare. With most premiums rising and coverage details changing on Jan. 1, recipients have until Dec. 31 to choose the plan that best meets their needs, but they are urged to submit their paperwork sooner, so they aren’t stuck without ID cards or other proof of insurance for the first part of January.

A resident of Sonoma, Helen, 78, called Senior Educators’ toll-free line in November asking if her current $70 monthly premium for Secure Horizons’ supplemental Medicare program is best. The friendly young woman who answered the call said cheerfully that Helen (who, like the other seniors in this story, asked not to be identified) could get coverage with absolutely no monthly premium payment, and the young woman would be glad to send details about the best available plan.

A retired business manager, Helen always reads every document thoroughly before making a decision. That’s how she caught the fact that the recommended Blue Cross Freedom Blue PPO has a $1,000 deductible, compared to the zero deductible of her current plan. She also realized that a number of her co-pay fees would be higher; for example, the cost of her physical therapy visits would jump from $30 to $90.

Helen’s sticking with her current Medicare supplement plan. The “zero” premium payment doesn’t sound as good to her now as it did when the young woman from Senior Educators was describing it on the telephone.

“I’ve had two surgeries on my shoulders and carpal tunnel this year,” Helen explains. “I think I paid $150 for each time as an outpatient. That’s only around $300–a lot less than $1,000.”

The suggestion that Helen consider the Freedom Blue plan came from San Francisco-based Professional Senior Educators Insurance Services, which includes its full name at least once on its marketing materials but mostly refers to itself as the more helpful-sounding Senior Educators. When Sonoma County resident Sandy, 79, a retired real estate agent and former registered nurse, called for advice, the Senior Educators representative asked her to spell the name of her current insurance plan, Kaiser Permanente.

“I asked her why she wasn’t familiar with Kaiser,” Sandy recalls. “She told me she was in a small town in Minnesota.”

Sandy could clearly hear several other voices in the background, all answering similar questions about Medicare insurance. Eventually, Sandy was mailed a cover letter, insurance pamphlets and application forms identical to those sent to Helen. Sandy also decided to stick with her current coverage.

Ditto for Janice, who called Senior Educators about her 88-year-old mother-in-law, currently covered under a Secure Horizons supplemental Medicare plan. Once Janice saw the deductible and other terms, she decided Senior Educators’ recommendation wasn’t right for her family.

All three callers reported that company’s representatives urged them to register for Medicare plans through Senior Educators, saying “referral fees” from insurance companies are what make it possible to offer this “free service for seniors.”

California companies aren’t paid referral fees–only sales commissions, says Melinda Aval, chief investigator for the California Department of Insurance. Senior Educators is under scrutiny to see if its marketing efforts meet the state standards for honesty, good faith and fair dealing.

If a company’s advertising is found to be inappropriate, the firm is asked to change its methods, Aval says. “Sometimes we just close [the investigation] out with a warning after they’ve made the correction,” she explains.

Jeff Flick, Bay Area regional manager for the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, says most infractions of federal insurance guidelines are reported by other companies, so the market polices itself.

The ultimate result, says Bonnie Burns, training and policy specialist for the nonprofit California Health Advocates, is regulation by disclosure. If a company explains its status, policies and limitations anywhere in its materials, then it’s often considered legally compliant.

“If the disclosure gives you information about something and you don’t see it or you don’t understand it, there will be no consequences to the person who made the disclosure,” Burns explains.

Seniors trying to choose the least expensive Medicare plan may not realize that there’s a large deductible, or that some services or procedures might not count toward the maximum “cap” on how much the recipient pays each year. Seniors who are accustomed to fairly all-inclusive supplemental Medicare policies could switch to a different plan and discover the out-of-pocket expenses are a lot more than anticipated. And if their health suddenly takes a turn for the worse, they may find that many major costs aren’t included.

“What’s in the contract is what’s important,” Burns adds. “It’s not what’s in the advertising. Does the contract accurately reflect what the advertising is saying to people? There are just enormous opportunities for misunderstanding.”

Companies like Senior Educators may in fact be giving good advice to seniors, Burns says, but there’s no way to know how much the commission is for each senior registered or if that money influences the firm’s recommendations.

“It’s virtually impossible to make fully informed decisions,” says Sonoma State University instructor Skip Robinson, one of the co-authors of the university’s five-year healthcare crisis report. “They’ve made [Medicare] unnecessarily complicated, so you can’t make good comparisons in most cases.”

Many private Medicare plans are set up to appeal to healthy seniors who want low premiums and aren’t concerned about the level of co-pays or covered services, Robinson says. That leaves the government-run program with a higher level of unhealthy seniors, which causes costs to rise. Fragmenting the market weakens the system.

The new Democratic congressional majority has pledged to revamp the unwieldy Medicare system, but it will take a strong bipartisan effort in the face of an even stronger corporate desire to protect and perhaps expand the existing profitable circumstances.

“They have absolutely fantastic profits at risk,” Robinson says of the pharmaceutical and insurance industries. “They make so much profit in the United States, it’s really shocking.”

And with that much moolah in the mix, there’s bound to be major lobbying and marketing efforts to convince both government officials and the public that the current trend toward free-market private health insurance plans is in everyone’s best interests.

Robinson comments, “People are just unconscious of how much companies are trying to affect their reasoning.”


Photo Club

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December 20-26, 2006

This fall, eight talented students from Santa Rosa High School’s ArtQuest program filed into the filthy warren that we like to call our offices. Armed with old-fashioned cameras (remember film?) they agreed to document the communities around them as a special treat for this issue.

Over the course of several months, they filed back into our filthy warren and sipped our tepid water while working with their mentor teachers, Tanya Braunstein and Glen Graves, and me to find the best ways to reflect the North Bay back to itself through the medium of photography.

Initially, all thephotographers were to shoot on the same day. But stuff happens. Instead, they documented the exact time on a weekend day and where they were when they were struck so well.

Our cover and those images chosen for this page reflect only a minute sliver of the good work that these young artists did. We’re proud to showcase them this holiday season.

–Gretchen Giles

Click on the photo to glimpse a larger version.

Gateway: Sebastopol, 12:35pm. A boy rallies for the troops at the town’s weekly protest against the war. Photograph by Chelsea Walsh.

First page biker: Cotati, 4pm. Outside of the Trade Winds on a Wednesday afternoon. Photograph by Lisa Kelly.

Grandpa and girl with balloon: St. Helena, 1pm. Little girl and balloon with UFW protesters outside of CK Mondavi Vineyards. Photograph by Francesca Longlin.

Flag: Occidental, 4:40pm. Terry Ann Gillette laughs while making bubbles outside of her shop, the Flying Turtle. Photograph by Claire Sloan.

Bubble thing: Valley Ford, 3pm. Flag and pole, reminders of Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s Running Fence. Photograph by Cayla Crum.

Second page light fixture: Calistoga, 2:45pm. The light fixture above the Wappo Bar & Bistro. Photograph by Meredith Koenne.

Not kill: Sebastopol, 12:56pm. A man rallies against the war at the town’s weekly protest. Photograph by Chelsea Walsh.

Men on bench: Healdsburg, 5:45pm. Two businessmen chat while waiting to be seated at a restaurant. Photograph by Freesia Levine.

Girl: Santa Rosa, 2pm. Rachael Ingram, an employee at Riley Street art supply store, peruses the shelves. Photograph by Alex Molinari.


Kingdom come & gone

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December 20-26, 2006

Ending the most absurd retirement in pop history is Kingdom Come, Jay-Z’s first album since heading up Def Jam. The Brooklyn rapper’s fully aware of his new job’s proximity to the street life he previously dramatized, preemptively adapting his Mafioso motif in “The Prelude,” which likens him to legitimacy-seeking Michael Corleone before he proclaims himself “a new improved Russell [Simmons].”

But the line continues, “I say that reluctantly, ’cause I do struggle,” the first of many uncharacteristically vulnerable moments in a conflicted lyrical style perfected by his sensational protégé Kanye West, one of the album’s many superstar producers. Jay-Z’s “Reasonable (self-) Doubt” is refreshing, considering his usual braggadocio, but it worked better in the childhood glimpses on 2003’s harder-edged Black Album, which is now robbed of its role as the perfect farewell.

His new mature, confessional style is most effective on socially conscious tracks like the Dr. Dre-produced “Minority Report,” an emotional meditation on everyone’s inadequate response to Katrina. But despite his admirable water crisis campaign, disingenuousness looms when materialistic and philanthropic personas mingle in “Oh My God.” “Lunch with Mandela, dinner with Cavalli, still got time to get water out to everybody.”

But HOVA, short for Jehovah, still takes the whole “made in our image” thing too seriously with his blatant biting. “Lost Ones” begins rebuking former partners’ newfound flashiness (Sound familiar, Lauryn Hill fans?). The song then laments problems with his unbelievably gorgeous girlfriend Beyoncé (Don’t blow it, man!). Needless to say, “relationship Jay” doesn’t quite suit him.

Although technically skilled, Jay-Z was crowned “best rapper alive” by default, aided by the murders of geniuses from both coasts and his own overexposure. This uneven, slickly produced comeback really pushes his luck. More than once, he obliviously announces, “I’m the Mike Jordan of recording.”


News Briefs

December 20-26, 2006

Heads up, seniors

In yet another example of the smooth-running Medicare reforms, seniors who believe their needs are taken care of with their current prescription and managed healthcare plans may be in for an end-of-the-year shock. Many private insurance companies are raising rates and changing which drugs are covered starting Jan. 1, but haven’t told their policyholders. Official notices were supposed to be mailed in early November. Some insurance companies–Medicare officials don’t know exactly how many–are running behind and won’t be mailing the documents until this week. At least some premiums will be doubling or tripling. Recipients’ deadline for switching plans is Dec. 31. A Medicare spokesman says nothing’s been decided yet, but officials are working on how to handle cases where seniors get last-minute notification of increases or changes and don’t have time to switch to a plan that better meets their needs. A senior advocate recommends that if you haven’t been told exactly what your Medicare rates and coverage will be for 2007, call your insurance company directly to ask for details, then call 1.800.MEDICARE to lodge a formal complaint about the lack of notice.

DIY DUI

Local and state officials are hoping you’ll assist in cracking down on drunken drivers now through New Year’s. There were 3,424 fatal collisions on California roadways in 2005; about 46 percent involved alcohol. To prevent these tragedies, law enforcement agencies always take extra steps during the holidays to spot and stop impaired motorists. This year they want everyone involved. “We’re asking the public to report drunk drivers by calling 911 and providing the location and a complete description of the vehicle. This will help us know who we’re looking for and where to look,” says California Highway Patrol commissioner Mike Brown. Phone 911 if you see drivers who make turns with an unusually wide radius or turn abruptly or illegally; drift from lane to lane; brake erratically; straddle the center line of the road or lane; barely miss hitting an object or another vehicle; weave and zigzag across the road; or drive toward oncoming or crossing traffic. And be sure to designate a driver; a $3.7 million federal grant is paying for sobriety checkpoints statewide. Another $2.4 million federal grant will pay for prosecuting DUI cases. The district attorneys of Marin, Napa and Sonoma counties are all participating in this “Make It Home for the Holidays” campaign.


Ask Sydney

December 20-26, 2006

As I go about my daily business, which takes me from the coffee shop where I work to the classroom where I teach to the university that I attend to the great big world all around, I encounter people, and when I encounter people, I encounter questions. Lots of questions. Everyone has questions. They may not always take the time to e-mail them to Sydney, but they never seem to tire of asking me, in person, for my opinion. Sometimes they don’t even ask me a question, they just talk about their problems, and from that, I extract the essential question and then force a pen into their hands and make them write it down. Rare is the day that I am not walking around with a question scribbled onto a piece of scrap paper tucked in my back pocket. In fact, I now refer to myself, quite fondly, as a question slut.

With the holidays comes a bevy of special questions. One could almost call them theme questions, because they are those that everyone around me seems to be echoing over and over again in the slump of their shoulders, in their cryptic responses to the usual “How are you?” in the way they heave a weighted sigh as I pass their double latte, no foam, over the counter. In honor of this, for the next two weeks, I am having a sort of Holiday Sydney Special, a personal and more in-depth response to a couple of questions that seem to be floating around the bio-sphere, getting into the water and otherwise messing with our collective heads. What follows is the first and most pressing.

Dear Sydney, It’s [insert holiday of choice] and I can’t seem to get anything done. How is it possible to ever, ever have enough time? How can I even enjoy myself when I’m so overwhelmed?–Racing

Dear Speedy: The common explanation for our constant rushing to and fro is that we are culturally predisposed to borderline obsessive compulsion. Supposedly, we live in a country where people are just wound pretty damn tight. We like to keep on the move. We also really like cool stuff and are surrounded on many sides by wealth (albeit, not usually our own), which leads to chronic dissatisfaction. Add to this the inflated cost of living, and family, vacations and nap time get basically marginalized or eliminated altogether. Many have to hire others to walk their dogs for them, that is how little time we have!

All this rushing is partly about survival, but there’s something else going on here, too. We are in a hurry; it’s not just imagined, a figment of our work-obsessed little minds. We live in a time where there are infinite possibilities–for places to go, for things to see, for people to meet. It’s 2006, and almost anything seems possible. We can now travel the entire world in the time it once took to ride a mule from Santa Rosa to San Francisco.

So maybe it’s not just economics and cultural mores, but the fact that we have so many choices. There literally is not enough time in the day, and the life expectancy at this time (something like 83) is not nearly long enough. I need at least 200 years to accomplish all of the things I want to get done. I may tell myself that I’m rushing against a shopping list or a dirty house or a pile of laundry or too many soccer games, while what I’m really rushing against is death. I love being alive. I love it so much that I want it to go on and on, not just for me, but for everyone I love.

But it doesn’t. Life can end anytime, and since 9-11 and turning 30, I worry about it more. I start thinking about Iraq and all of the people getting blown to pieces, not to mention the Middle East in general, and Africa and global warming. These are blessed times in many ways, but they are also frightening, and sometimes the easiest way to avoid being afraid is just to keep on moving–treading water, to employ an overused swimming metaphor. Because if I don’t, I just might end up getting my toes nibbled by the resident monster of the day: cancer, car wreck, terrorist attack, rapid temperature changes, random accidents, whatever.

I know people who claim they don’t think about such things, but they don’t concern me here, because I do think about them. I remember being a kid, lying on the deck in the summers, sleeping outside and looking up at the stars. They spread out all around me like the entire night was about to swallow me up, and I would let myself just shrink into my sleeping bag until I was a spot of nothing in the entire wide universe, and I could hardly breathe with the grandiosity of it. I would think about the universe going on and on and on, to infinity, and my teeth would chatter. Impossible. But this is what life is. A mystery so great we can hardly breathe. So we just keep dashing from place to place in an eternal effort to avoid truly feeling what it means to be mortal, vulnerable and often afraid. My greatest fear is something bad happening to one of my children. If someone told me that I could keep them safe if I spent all of my days bouncing on a Pogo stick, I would do it. Up and down, up and down, up and down. And I can’t even bounce on a Pogo stick. But I would learn.

So try to consider the holidays differently this year, try not to worry about getting everything done. You never will anyway, because time never stops moving, and there is always more to do. Focus instead on the people in your life you love the most, and then make some time just for them. If you don’t buy a single gift, so what? Give everyone money. You know that’s what they want anyway.

No question too big, too small or too off-the-wall.


Women of La Mancha

December 20-26, 2006

The common-place women’s picture (think Fried Green Tomatoes) is vapid and brittle and rinsed in pastel blue. But Pedro Almodovar’s opuses are luminous and warm, and shot with crimson and orange like a fancy cocktail. But despite the kind of glowing reception it’s been getting, is Almodovar’s latest, Volver, any deeper than Tomatoes? It’s a civilized send-up of a melodrama, but the very civilization blunts its sharpness.

Volver takes place under the dry light of La Mancha. The joke here is that the prevailing winds drive the women insane and carry the men to their graves early. Then again, in Volver, the men are often better off dead.

The titles weave through a throng of women with buckets and rubber gloves, carefully washing the marble tombs of their parents. Such is tradition; on weekends, these city women come back home for Sunday dinner (volver means “to return”). Raimunda (Penelope Cruz) goes for an after-cemetery snack at the home of her Aunt Paula (Chus Lampreave). The old lady claims that Raimunda’s mother, Irene, is still around, taking care of her. But Raimunda’s mom burned to death in an accident years before.

Aunt Paula is right. Irene (Carmen Maura) is either alive or else a very vigorous ghost. She materializes in Madrid, at the flat of Raimunda’s plain, unmarried sister Sole (Lola Duenas). Irene stays in hiding, diving under the bed when anyone comes to the door. But Raimunda has a secret, too: her no-good, lecherous husband is dead and currently stashed in the deep-freeze of a nearby restaurant.

To answer the next question, “What’s in it for the men?” there’s Penelope Cruz. Cruz is as overwhelming as Sophia Loren was in her prime. Raimunda is the kind of woman who has been making Spaniards nervous for centuries: slim and cool, but with a bodice that would make any mammal dream of contentment.

Volver is a rich entertainment. It combines peasant common sense with the lustrous surface that used to be part of the deal with every movie ticket. Still, it doesn’t have the mad-eyed quality of Almodovar’s earlier films. It’s at peace with the way things are. In Volver, the dysfunctional family is timeless: generation by generation, men will always be dogs, and the women will always find ways to train them.

Or, if necessary, to put them to sleep.

Volver opens on Friday, Dec. 22, at the Century CineArts Sequoia, 25 Throckmorton Ave., Mill Valley, 415.388.4862; and at the Rialto Lakeside Cinemas, 551 Summerfield Road, Santa Rosa, 707.525.4840.


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