It seemed like the logical choice: after all, we're dieting. However, I haven't yet cleaned off the grill for use this year. Next weekend, I think.

So: salad, rice with orzo, and breast pieces sauteed for a few minutes, and then braised. I started with "light" olive oil. (Not light in calories—light in taste. I use this for a lot of my sauteeing, since it's healthy and doesn't have a huge effect on the final outcome, as normal olive oil would. If the oil truly must be neutral, of course, I stick with Canola oil.)

Then I added some Moroccan-style sauce from Trader Joe's, cut heavily with broth to make the dish slightly less spicy.

And then I added some slices of Florida mango, for added flavor and some extra vitamin C.

Super-easy. And yummy. I was experimenting and tasting a lot, but this meal with be ready in 35 minutes or so next time I make it.

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What if I told you there were a handful of individuals in whom I have trouble seeing the face of God?

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No vitamin C shortage around here!

One down; eight to go. Yum.

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1 Nice job on staggering out the ripeness, too: we seem to consume about one a day&maybe two a day toward the end of the cycle. I shall have to find a cheaper outlet for local mangoes. I think one of the Mexican markets might be a good choice: their produce tends to be much less costly (especially when one doesn't care as much about external characteristics—e.g., for cut fruit and cooking purposes). Probably my favorite fruit, though of course I'd hate to have to choose. And in the summer white freestone peaches tend to capture my imagination, as well.

Posted by: Attila Girl at May 12, 2007 09:14 PM (2WBcM)

2 Oh, good! I always try to hit that ripeness balance, but of course, the mangoes have minds of their own, and decide for themselves in the end. Pretty Lady used to eat mangoes when she lived in Mexico, and says they were very high-quality fruits. If you go for the taste rather than appearance - why I like my *ugly* mangoes - I'd guess that Mexican produce might be great stuff. Well. Outside of the e. coli concern, too.

Posted by: k at May 13, 2007 12:55 AM (zBbuE)

3 Of course, "sold in a Mexican market" and "Mesican in origin" may mean slightly different things, unless we are discussing those papayas that are the size of small cars . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at May 13, 2007 01:59 AM (2WBcM)

4 For a moment I thought this post was about oral sex.

Posted by: John at May 14, 2007 04:12 PM (S3FTS)

5 Both very wet experiences.

Posted by: Attila Girl at May 14, 2007 09:13 PM (+8+0X)

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this isn't me. It's the other Joy McCann.

Though Joy McCann's refusal to bow to her son's wishes in how she runs this foundation is absolutely inspiring to me (a non-lawyer, IANOL). Once I pass the age my mother is now, I won't just wear purple—I'll drive a purple freaking convertible.

Because . . . why not?

I am positive that my 96-year-old grandmother (my only surviving grandparent, and dad's mom . . . thanks for asking) has never read this poem, or heard of this society..

And yet, her life is suffused with lavendar, a color she didn't pursue when my grandfather was alive (he had been very partial to red).

If anyone knows where I can find a lavendar flag that can be mounted on her scooter, that would be awesome. Bonus points for a cross or a fish on the flag (I have a vision of it being a purple pennant, but I could be wrong about that).

Just no rainbows, please--or woman-identified-woman symbolism. I do not want to have to explain that to her.

Thanks.

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But how much time does Chris Muir spend looking at women's bodies?

Chris, my man—I meant that in the good way.

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But if one substituted good green olives, spiked with a few Greek-style black ones, you'd definitely have something, here.

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For those of you who are new to the issue, there's a nice background piece by Michael Minn here:

In 2005, the digital royalty was 0.07 cents per song streamed (per listener) and small webcasters were able to calculate royalties as a percentage of revenue rather than on a per-song basis. This made it possible for small, often niche, webcasters with limited revenue streams to be financially viable, although most webcasters did it for love rather than money and usually lost modest amounts of money on their webcasting ventures. A typical small Live365 webcaster paid around $600 per year in digital royalties.

On March 2, 2007 the Library of Congress' Copyright Royalty Board (CRB), which oversees royalty rates, got rid of the revenue-based royalty provision, mandated a minimum royalty of $500 per channel per year, and established a higher royalty rate that will increase to 0.19 cents per song streamed per listener in 2010. For a webcaster that broadcasts 15 songs an hour to 500 listeners, that will increase the royalty to over $72,000 a year in 2010. For the six largest Internet-only broadcasters (who are financially marginal, at best), the royalty increase will represent over 50% of their total income. Pandora.com's founder, Tim Westergren, told Newsweek, "If this stays, we're done. Back to the stone age again." My favorite station, JazzPlayerRadio, has already left the web because the new rates will be applied retroactively to the first of the year.

Lest you think that some stations could survive by webcasting music from independent labels and producers, the RIAA has secured legal authority to administer a compulsory license that covers ALL recorded music. This means SoundExchange can force a royalty payment for ALL webcast music, with the provision that an independent label or artist can then join SoundExchange (for a significant fee) and get the money that was extracted on their behalf.

And for you NPR fans, this affects you. NPR is spearheading the effort against the new royalty because they have a significant number of listeners via the web. The new rules would be an accounting nightmare for them because only a portion of their programming is commercial music, but figuring out who is listening when a Justin Timberlake bumper plays on All Things Considered is really hard. For more details on NPR's role in this, see this article on NPR's initial appeal of the royalty increase.

From Mary McCann, Radio IO's The Bone Mama (as well as my sister-in-law, and felow PT Cruiser owner) come these ideas for nullifying the Copyright Royalty Board's decision:

An Easy "How-To Guide" for Making that Fateful Phone Call:



On March 2nd the Copyright Royalty Board set the rates that internet radio must pay for the years 2006-2010. My company and similar-sized operations will go from paying 11% of our revenues to 294% of our revenues, which means we will be upside-down unless HR 2060 passes. The first payment is due on July 17th, so immediate attention is desperately needed!

This is a death match for the beautiful medium of internet radio. The issue is access to the net and audiences for artists—not to mention my access to rice and beans. I'm asking you to make a phone call. It really makes a difference!

We have 51 sponsors today; there were only seven 10 days ago, before we went to Washington, D.C. One rep from Arizona is on board, and thatÂ’s all from that state. There are a handful from California, including the representative for Marin County, and we have a good early showing from Illinois. The bill is bipartisan: it was started by a guy in Washington state, Rep. Jay Inslee. You can look here to see whoÂ’s on board.

Call your Representative's office in Washington, D.C.—or call your local office in the case of your own representative. Ask to speak to the staffer who handles copyright or Internet issues. (If you enter your zip code at http://www.congress.org, theyÂ’ll give you your reps name and numbers.) They are used to people who don't call them for a living, and they're very easy to speak with. On the other hand, we have word that certain senators with ties to big record labels are blocking the IP of our coalition site. This is one of the reasons that e-mail is not a good option for working on this issue.

Here are some of the coalition's script ideas. Mix it up, but the main goal is to ask the reps for co-sponsorship. You really will be saving Internet radio—and my job in this baby industry.

1) "I am a constituent, and IÂ’m calling to ask Congressman/woman ________ to save Internet radio by co-sponsoring H.R. 2060, the Internet Radio Equality Act."

2) "The Copyright Royalty Board's decison to increase royalty rates for webcasters is going to turn off my internet radio, and I do not want that to happen. Please ask Congressman/woman ________ to co-sponsor H.R. 2060, the Internet Radio Equality Act."

3) "I believe artists should be compensated fairly for the music they make, but putting my webcasters out of business will only hurt artists more. They depend on Internet radio to get their music out to fans and build new audiences. When the webcasters go off the air, so do artists. Please co-sponsor H.R. 2060, the Internet Radio Equality Act."

4) "Internet radio is one of the only bright spots of diversity for independent music. We need internet radio. DonÂ’t turn it off. Co-sponsor H.R. 2060, the Internet Radio Equality Act."

5) [If you are an artist] "Internet radio enables artists like me to reach fans throughout the country and the world, and enjoy exposure and airplay that we might not receive otherwise. I'm asking you to co-sponsor H.R. 2060, the Internet Radio Equality Act."

Or my least favorite: 6) "My friend Mary McCann will be out of a job unless H.R. 2060 passes, and then she won't be able turn me on to fabulous artists any more. I mean, where else can a person with the handle of The Bone Mama get a job? As a geisha?"

One of the artists who lobbied with us on the Hill, SONiA, had her manager run the numbers for promoting her next tour, should H.R. 2060 fail to pass. Without the support of Internet radio those costs would go up 600%.

Broadcast radio does not even pay this copyright fee. They are exempt; satellite radioÂ’s rate has been locked in at 7.5% of their revenue for this same time period. We arenÂ’t even asking for broadcast radioÂ’s rate, but simply parity with satellite radio—hence, the name: the Internet Radio Equality Act.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

She is from Illinois, and our family members live mostly in the Upper Midwest and on the West Coast—that's why she focuses on Western States and Illinois in this guide. But the problem is national in scope—and, by implication, international, given the leadership role the U.S. has in internet development, and the fact that internet radio transcends national boundaries.

It is hard to see this as more than a naked power grab from those in broadcast radio who want to retain their monopoly. Please don't let them get away with it: support H.R. 2060. And hurry: this may come up for vote in the next few days.

More here.

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My mom needs a little deck or patio in her yard. Since her budget for this is pretty close to zero, I'm trying to figure out whether it would be easier/cheaper to build a little wooden platform there (something sturdy enough to last a few years), or simply level it out and use brick/sand to make a patio in between the "dog runs" and people paths.

Thoughts?

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My former boss, Drew Hardin, wrote a nice little roundup some years back on the ways people were tricking out their PT Cruisers. The lead for the piece is very cute:

Whether you love it or it leaves you cold, ChryslerÂ’s PT Cruiser is an unmitigated hit. People are still standing in line to buy this little car (van? mini-SUV? whatever...), even a year and a half after its introduction.

That delicate little dance leaves one unsure about Drew's true feelings regarding the Cruiser: either he disliked it intensely, or he secretly thought it was great, but didn't want to appear uncool to his automotive-jock friends.

I've always recognized that I'm not really like Iowahawk: I don't have the money or the time to put into collecting old cars or modifying/restoring them. But I love the fact that some people out there are doing it, and I love the fact that it filters down to my level, to the point that an ordinary chick like me can own and drive a piece of pop art.

And if my books do end up selling as much as my husband tells me they will, I'll probably get a few extra sets of wheels. Maybe even something nice enough to leave to Mr. P's Museum when I die.

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It means an orange glow beyond the horizon as my constant companion, driving up through Chevy Chase canyon just after midnight.

It means devastation around the Hollywood sign, and the peak—Mt. Hollywood—from which one can see it best. It means farewell to countless movie sets, and the site of several early dates between my husband and me, back in the days when we assumed we'd grow out of this madness.

It means that there is soot in the air, and there are weird noises around the house—from hyperacive insects, and from the particles in the air as they begin to settle.

It means that the venue wherein I saw the Bangles in the 80s is now a staging area for LAFD.

How strange. I'm lookin' for the good in this, but it isn't visible yet.

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Or between food, sex and work. Or between food, sex, work and clean clothes every morning.

Or this: food, sex, work, clean clothes, or potable water?

And there's always: food, sex, work, clean clothes, potable water, or my bitchin' faux surfwagon.

The advanced course: food, sex, work, clean clothes, potable water, my bitchin' faux surfwagon, or a meaningful relationship with a Higher Power. (This is, of course, a trick question: your Higher Power wants you to have lots of goodies. Though perhaps not all at once.)

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1 What? Nancy Pelosi making you feel like you have to choose again? Don't send your money to Washington and make your own choices. . . Btw...Work? Clean clothes? I would give those as much consideration as I would a ringing telephone.

Posted by: Darrell at May 09, 2007 11:42 AM (C99Ct)

2

Posted by: Attila Girl at May 09, 2007 12:56 PM (2WBcM)

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And it's unlikely to stop anytime soon.

Just in love with that car. And with that 2.4.

Much better than the 1.9 in my Saturn SL2, which could at least climb hills at a steady, reasonable pace.

Fairly close, actually, to Attila the Hub's V6 in an engine that—stock—was 2.2, but became gosh-knows-what when they put the extra
cylinders in it. [Would a real car person step in, please, and spare me from further embarrassment?]

I like the fact that I ride high in this trucklet, and yet while I'm cruizin' along the car looks up at me with puppy-dog eyes and says, "faster, please." I pat it on the dashboard, and then look up to discover that I'm doing 80 without even thinking about it.

Naturally, at that point I say "heavens to Betsy," and slow down . . . if I'm in the mood, or if there are CHP cars malingering on that stretch of freeway.

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Via Caltech Girl, there's a remarkable unedited video of a Fred Thompson interview over at Breitbart's place; the man has presence.

I'm pretty sure he's going to go for it. It's very clear that he knows what the stakes are for the country right now.

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Of course, if a lot of the most popular escorts were ladies in their 50s, that certainly lends credence to Jeane Palfrey's claim. Naturally, I'll still be Arizona-hot in five years, but I'm the exception.

Will someone remind me why prostitution isn't legal in 49 of the 50 states? Isn't there a lot of effort being expended on this that could go to fighting terrorism, or fostering small businesses, or achieving energy independence, or . . . practically anything else?

Body count before the scandal: zero. Body count after the story broke: 1.

Perhaps D.C. law enforcement needs a hobby, like knitting.

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Miniter is back from Iraq, and in his accustomed seat at Johnnie on the Half Shell. Mixed news from Iraq, to be sure. ("The U.S. Army is the Post Office, with guns." Ouch.)

And Ana Marie Cox shows up as their first guest.

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Seriously: I've got some business correspondence to catch up on, and lunch with a friend/media contact.

Then I'll be working at Ye Olde Nonprofit into the evening.

So the Political Joy will be back on duty sometime over the weekend.

In the meantime, please check out this site and discuss among yourselves.

I'm all for respecting intellectual property rights, myself, but when royalties go up to the point that an entire industry will be decimated by it—and most of the artists themselves are on the other side of the issue—things appear to have gone sideways in a serious way.

Yes, this entire discussion comes under the heading of "does the mainstream music industry have a death wish?" Perhaps they don't, though: after all, once you've secured a government-enforced monopoly on the main avenue through which new music is desseminated, you've got a chance of survival—by killing the competition.

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A 2002 Limited Edition in beautiful shape, with a sunroof and those way-cool "faux woody" panels on the sides. The only downside: it's an automatic.

In the end, it came down to this car or a year-old white Scion with a trunk considerably smaller than the one on my friend's old non-hatchback Prius—or, approximately the size of my purse. We went with this car so that, should I need to carry people or objects from one place to another, I will be able to. (The seats fold down, the "trunk" is huge, and the vehicle sports a luggage rack.)

I still have to look up the engine specs, but the pickup on this thing is akin to what I get in my husband's V6, so whatever it is, it's good. (Nope. This info isn't in the owner's manual, which may have been written so that it covers base models as well as the souped-up versions of any particular Cruiser.) I'll hop online tonight, and/or call CarMax tomorrow.

Today our new couch is getting delivered, so I must go rearrange the living room furniture. And then it will be time to get together with a girlfriend for dinner.

Therefore: light blogging, as real-life demands continue to cut into my internet time. No rest for the wicked.

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As Darrell predicted, it was "none of the above."

I'm really quite besotted; I may sleep in it tonight.

Anyone care to hazard a guess?

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We're definitely going used. The more I think about it, the more I want to do it that way. But not private party: I want more guarantees.

Bachelor #1 is a yellow Matrix, with which I'm secretly in love—because he has a sunroof, a tape deck + a CD player, a SIX-speed manual transmission, and a quirky maneuver for getting into reverse (one has to move a certain way, while reciting pagan incantations).

It's un-stealable: say there's a car thief who knows how to drive a stick—despite the fact that it's a dying art. He or she won't know how to get this bad boy onto the road. And it's got plenty of pickup, despite being a souped-up Corolla with a strange, practical Euro-style body.

Od: 35,326
Vintage: 2004
Extras: 4 years or 65,000 left on the extended warranty; tape deck

Even Attila the Hub, who was initially quite put off by the color (inspired, rumor has it, by French's mustard) is starting to warm to the quirky little car. I remind him that he only has to borrow it around three times, so he can get the feel of that funky reverse gear, and then he never has to set foot in it again unless there's an emergency.

Meanwhile, he's seeing more deep-yellow cars all over the highways, and is losing his reservations in that arena. "It's a cheerful color," I remind him. "Without being the kind of cop magnet that most shades of red are."

Bachelor #2 is respectable-looking Honda in a really beautiful light shade of metallic seafoam green. This one doesn't sport a sunroof: it's a grownup-looking car, but it cooks. It's got that Honda maneuverability, and the gears feel nice.

Od: 19K
Vintage: 2003
Extras: It just looks like a sober sort of sedan, in a non-aggressive/pretty color, and yet it maneuvers like a charm. Its another one of these small-but-clever cars, engineered so even tall guys like A the H can ride in comfort. Therefore, I could take him out to dinner without borrowing his car to do it. (Always a nice perk in the marital arena. When it's his birthday, I like to do the driving.)

Bachelor #3 is another Honda Civic, but of the hatchback variety they don't even make any more. He was a sweet ride. His bad habits: two doors (not counting the hatchback), and a rearview mirror that sucked, making daytime look like nighttime. But he might be available for less than his brother four-door Civic, and he like to rock and roll. For me the dealbreaker is that dim rear-view mirror—except that I know these are available on the aftermarket, and some of them are quite a bit better than the ordinary variety. This one is mounted into the windshield, but still: I'm sure there's a fix, and it probably isn't too expensive.

Besides, I carry a purse: think of all the time I'd save by throwing it into the back seat without having to open a back door! Two doors can be pretty practical, when you think it through.

There are a few aces up our sleeves, as Attila the Hub and I set out to negotiate with these people, and maybe even bring one of these sweethearts home:

1) My car works just fine. We aren't in a hurry.

2) When push comes to shove, I'm willing to drive an automatic, if it means a better deal. But they cannot sell their manual-transmission vehicles to people who don't know how to drive 'em.

3) A the H is using a special account for this purpose, and we put $4,500 less into it than we originally planned. This isn't an accident, or carelessness: it's because we knew that once I'd fallen for a couple of used cars, that would get us into a more appropriate price range for the models we were considering.

And I'm me: once my driveability buttons have been pushed, I'd prefer to spend the extra money fixing up our house. I want reliability, and a bit of a speed buzz. After that, who cares? I want to ditch the wallpaper, and paint this palace.

4) We are willing to walk. Not in a dramatic way, but if we aren't happy with a deal on offer, we will saunter off. After all, there are other sweet, sporty abandoned cars with stick shifts that are available for adoption all over the city. We are ready to deal—but not committed.

So if anyone's ready to buy a used car from an actual used-car lot, it's us. We are wearing our financial armor, and yet we carry the loudly beating heart of a passionate wife who has a deep need for speed.

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for why males seem so enamoured of IM-ing their female friends. (Scroll down to the third entry on the page, David Linden's.)

Of course, there is a sort of corollary from high school. Those of us who were female and cute and brilliant and not computer jocks would often call our male friends for emotional support, understanding, and practical advice. As time wore on, it became more and more difficult to ignore the sound of the keyboard tapping that accompanied these conversations . . . fucking computer programmers. Fucking guys.

But, you know. We needed the eggs.

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