Sandy Hook

In the wake of today’s shooting at the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn., the only comment I have is to reiterate what I said after the last major mass shooting, at a Sikh temple in Milwaukee (which followed less than a month after another mass shooting at a movie theatre in Aurora, Colo.)

“Let me just say that a whackjob with a gun doesn’t really need a cause to espouse or a specific group to hate; all he needs is the weapon(s), the ammo, the access & maybe the ability to go to full-auto.“

I was right, too—it didn’t take long for the next whackjob to target more victims for any or no reason at all.

Bucking the trend

As many of you know, I live in the Valley they call Silicon, which has more coffee shops than all the Benelux countries combined.

Naturally, at least 75% of them are Starbucks, but even so—there are lots and lots of places to go to have a really adequate beverage (or even a meal) in a clean, non-sterile environment without forking over the GDP of one of the aforementioned Benelux countries. There are some national chains, like Panera Bread, and local ones, like Le Boulanger; and independent shops. Some of the latter charge Starbucks prices, but at least they serve you decent coffee and you don’t have to wade through the disgusting seasonal crap like gingerbread or eggnog lattes. You might even get your drink in an actual mug, maybe with a latte art flourish.

So I just freaking do not understand why it is that, when someone needs to connect, they invariably say, “Let’s meet up at the Starbucks at [blah-blah].” I understand wanting a venue where there’s no table service, or check to split. But why Starbleedingbucks?

Every single one of them I’ve been in (Menlo Park, Santa Clara, Cupertino, Newark—doesn’t matter where) has been uniformly groady, with bad acoustics and few tables (fully occupied, no matter what time of day or night). And the tables aren’t big enough to support a checkerboard.

This week I was meeting with a guy who’s helping me with a number of things (including connecting me to the law enforcement community for my novel research). My venue choices (proposed by him): ‘Bucks at Poplar and El Camino or ‘Bucks at Mathilda and Maude, in Sunnyvale. I chose the latter—it’s in a shopping center so there’s actually some parking available—and arrived at 1700.

I could not believe—at 1700 every one of the (tiny) six tables was occupied, and there was a queue nearly out the door of people ordering overpriced froufy coffee-like drinks, wrapped in the ersatz cheer of a Starbucks holiday canned music CD blaring. I felt like I was in the third rung of Hell.

The only thing I can think of in mitigation is that the places are freaking ubiquitous and that if you can’t find one you must be an idiot. Although that in itself is problematic, since it’s fairly easy to go to the wrong ‘Bucks when there are two in the same shopping center or within a block of each other on a street like El Camino.

The pain in Spain

You knew this story wasn’t going to end with the last chapter, in which Cecilia Giménez butchered the voluntary “restoration” of a fresco at the Sanctuary of Mercy Church in Borja, Spain.

No—in addition to demanding a cut of the gate at the church, for which her work admittedly sparked a demand, Giménez is now hawking her original work on eBay. It’s listed as “Picture by Cecilia Giménez, Restorer of the ‘Ecce Homo’.”

The auction was up to €630 as of yesterday afternoon, up from a starting bid of €300.

Really—everything’s up-to-date in Borja.

A fine kettle of fish

This story came via NPR and focuses on NYC, but I’m betting that if anyone were to sniff around any city in the country, the results would probably be the same.

Seems that “off” smell all around us is the odor of the piscatorial equivalent of mutton dressed as lamb, according to a study by Oceana, a conservation group.

Meaning that there’s a whole lotta mislabeling of fish going on—you think you’re getting one thing, but in fact you’re getting (and paying for) another. Including some critters that are not at all good for your health.

Oceana’s report indicates that 60% of the retail outlets they sampled (from bodegas to high-end restaurants) were selling mislabeled fish. And 100% of the sushi bars they visited had species inaccuracies.

Certainly it’s all problematic, but what I’m not getting is: who buys fish from bodegas?

Rodent control

I frequent a bakery-café in Santa Clara that’s part of a chain operated out of Korea. It’s a good place to write and to people-watch, both of which I enjoy.

The chain has outlets in many states, but they don’t appear to have completely grasped English. Witness two confections I saw in the case yesterday:

And:

So far I haven't felt the need to blow $28 to find out whether they are labeled accurately. & my Hangul alphabet skills are a little rusty.

Of course—I could be making incorrect assumptions, & these cakes might in fact involve Friends of Mickey. But I rather think that if that were the case, the Santa Clara County health department might deploy a SWAT team.

Drumming for peace

In the spirit of the season, I’m giving you one of the more unusual pairings of vocalists.

One of the best things about this is that Bowie’s “Peace on Earth” largely drowns out Crosby’s “Little Drummer Boy”. The less pa-rum-pum-pum-pum in this world, the better for peace.