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The Astrodome has its own zip code.

A lot of people were in Menlo Park today to try to save Kepler's, but I wasn't really one of them--I guess after Printers Inc., I just don't really believe it. And I have this fear of seeing Kepler's end up like Ruminator in its last days, a few sparse shelves of books nobody wants. Still, I enjoyed watching all the people who wanted to try. People held up signs. My favorite said "but... Neil Gaiman was coming!"

This is crazy Tin Cat week: Practice last night and tonight, a short set at the SoFA Lounge acoustic showcase tomorrow, I guess we have Thursday off, a full show at Dana Street on Friday, and a block party on Saturday.

I feel weird, but not because of that.

Things Hagrid the Half-Giant Would Say If He Served Jesus Instead of Harry Potter.

"This is the time for politics," in decreasing order of politeness: James Wolcott, Digby, Steve Gilliard.

As with the tsunami last year, the Bush administration's "small government" approach has been to do the minimum required, and then call on the generosity of the American people, through private contributions to charity, to pick up the slack. It's a free market approach to disaster management. And we are generous, and organizations like the Red Cross and the Salvation Army do get lots of money, and it's all heartwarming, and the one thing I hate about it is that then the Republicans can point to all that and say they were right, government really doesn't need to help its citizens.

But here's the thing: It does. The Red Cross, to which most of us non-fundamentalists have been giving our money, is banned from New Orleans. Supposedly the presence of aid organizations in the city would prevent evacuation--but the evacuation is barely happening, as even Fox News reporters will tell you (while their anchors try to focus on "good news"). There are things we need the government to be doing: Evacuation, search and rescue, above all coordination.

Did I say the Bush administration does the minimum required? No, it does less. It actively prevents the minimum effort from being made. The New Mexico National Guard was waiting four days for "paperwork from Washington", food drops by the military are "awaiting a request from FEMA", helicopter delivery of food and supplies was stalled so the President could get his picture taken. People stuck at the convention center and on the bridges are not allowed to walk out of town.

And all this is just the aftermath of what they didn't do before the hurricane hit. FEMA was reduced to a component of "homeland security," told to stop working on disaster preparedness, and placed under the direction first of Bush's campaign manager--seriously--and then Bush's campaign manager's "old friend," a man whose previous experience included attorney at law and failed commissioner of the International Arabian Horse Association. (He's "doing a heck of a job," says the President.) Tax cuts and war diverted funds from the Army Corps of Engineers project to prevent flooding. (The Corps knew that "the levees were not designed to withstand a category five hurricane," despite Bush's bizarre claim that no one anticipated a breach.) Oh, and New Orleans's disaster planning was privatized last year, contracted out by DHS to a company with a reputation for bad advice, which is now trying to erase the evidence of its contribution. I'm just hitting the high points.

I'm sure there's another side to some of these stories. I'm sure some of the people who made these decisions thought they had good reasons. But the big picture is this: It's five days since the hurricane hit the coast, and thousands of people are still stuck and starving in a drowned city. The hurricane was a disaster. What's followed is an atrocity.

On the bright side, our nation's leader has promised that Trent Lott will get a new porch.

My favorite local Indian restaurant closed three months ago, a fact I learned as my entire department converged on it for my farewell lunch. My metaboss encouraged me to view it in a positive light: One less thing to miss when I leave. "Yeah," I said, "the last thing I loved in California. There's nothing here for me now."

Ha ha. But now there's this: Yesterday, Kepler's closed.

Seems some email didn't make it to me today. Grr.

No one's yet claimed the two best books from the movies/LA/CA set. Here are some links: Projections 10: Hollywood Film-Makers on Film-Making and The View from Babylon: The Notes of a Hollywood Voyeur.

It would take me four days to drive safely alone from here to New Orleans.

The Sam Shaber show was a lot of fun. I don't think I'm particularly good at running sound, but I'm not bad, and I really enjoy it. Even when, as with most singer-songwriter shows, it's mostly a matter of plug them in and let them go.

Tom and I will be bringing the big PA for tomorrow's Sunday Chill show. This is going to be a fun one: Singer-songwriters David Gunn & Valarie Mulberry, indie pop from The Invisible Cities, and Sheltering Sky doing Celtic folk songs. I know, it sounds like an odd mix, but I think they're going to be great together. If you're in the neighborhood, drop by.

Well, I signed up for Google Talk, but it's really boring because I don't know anyone else who did. I'm eostrom there.

I can't stop staring at this, via The Daily Howler. Larry King, on CNN last night:

KING: All right, hold on. Dr. Forrest, your concept of how can you out-and-out turn down creationism, since if evolution is true, why are there still monkeys?

"[I]t is possible, with good coaching and training, to turn a talented executive with mild psychopathic tendencies into an effective manager."

Ever suddenly realize that sense of impending doom you're feeling might be a result, not of actual impending doom to which you are for some reason acutely sensitive, but of getting about half the sleep you needed the night before?