There's a lot of political talk about dirty hippies, the phantom which animates so much of our power elite. The reasons for this must be dark and deeply psychological, but I really don't care. This is a generational fight I have no interest in wasting cycles on.

On my Jetblue flight back, VH1 Classic had a bit about the 60s and drugs, and they had some old footage of Kesey, both the Paul Newman-looking Acid Test version and the more familiar Pleasant Hill farmer. That guy was the MF man, and it's a shame their whole scene got busted down on so hard.

So yeah, hippies are annoying I know. I don't want to talk about crystal healing either. But, on the other hand, Florida Gator fans are annoying too. So maybe it's just people and not just hippies who are annoying.

Anyway, I'm back in California. Just another freak in the freak kingdom.

Apple TV looks interesting and surprisingly affordable. I'd like to see what success early adopters have in hacking it up, because if I can SSH into this thing and trick it out I'll probably buy one. If it can be a media center and a solid network hub/firewall, I'll drop $300 to have a purpose-built device as that's a good pricepoint vs me building my own.

Basically I've heard enough stuff that I don't trust Jerome Armstrong, who does a lot of technology consulting to sell people stuff and subcontract the work. So I finally had to call him out on something and it got a little unpleasant.

We'll see how this plays out. I hope I'm wrong about Jerome's motivations here, but it really looks to me like he's trying to take a lot of credit and sell a lot of snakeoil, and then abuse his admin rights when I try and call him out on it.

UPDATE: After sleeping on it, I really do need to explain the whole "snakeoil" smear up there. There are too many ways to read what I wrote, and it's not really what I mean. I have to work and get on a plane today, but I will write a post clarifying this in the air.

For reasons lost to the dream I'm having dinner at the White House. It's not really the White House of course, and the part of George W. Bush is (natch) played by my father, but for the purposes of the dream it is the White House and he is the President.

I'm sitting in the dining room alone at a bare eight-person table, shortly joined by a kind of schlubby companion, known to be an obsequious courtier and who I also somehow know is named Josh. Annoyingly, he takes the seat next to mine out of all the other seven . This will be awkward because I won't know if people are speaking to him or to me at dinner.

The Bush daughters arrive, played by somewhat more vampy versions of themselves. Dumb-blond Jenna briefly flashes us two Joshes in the style of girls gone wild followed by Barbara (the more intelligent and ergo more attractive), who crawls across the wooden table to the far corner seat with the exaggerated, cat-in-heat style hips of a stripper working the rail.

The table is set, and various "grown ups" filter in. Laura Bush is Laura Bush. For some reason there isn't enough wine or wine glasses to go around, and Dubya/My Father rations out tiny quarter-glasses into various mugs and short cups from the dregs of a magnum bottle. For reasons lost to the dream I know we will still all become drunk, although I also find it improbable in the moment that there isn't more wine, a functionally unlimited supply, to be had in the White House, and that what we do have to drink is rotgut.

Conversation is indistinct. There is discussion of a legal brief -- schlubby courtier Josh is some sort of lawyer -- which will have to be approved by Cheney. He is never seen but rather felt as a presence, perhaps just in the other room. George makes a comment about how "we don't like being disturbed in the mornings around here," and -- scene missing? -- the next thing I know I'm waking up on a couch with a hangover.

This is a very good start.

Speaker Pelosi says Congress will reject Bush/McCain doctrine of escalation.

Please please please do what you can to make sure that people know about this. While most Americans don't want to escalate in Iraq, the national press bubble is going to spin this all sorts of ways.

Last night I went out on a sorta-date to see the eviscerated chinamen exhibit (a.k.a. "Bodies," and I recommend it) and then to make party at the co-working spot where I've been hanging out all week. The shindig was a good medium between networking and debauchery. All this is catching up with me though. I am tired. I am weary. I could sleep for hundred years.

It's 72 degrees here in NYC and I spent the afternoon in shorts sunning myself on a rock in Central Park. We're all gonna die, but we might as well enjoy ourselves in the mean time, oui?

And now I'm here in the Slope. Just had sushi with Danya (a.k.a. the Belle du Mois) who was my squeeze this time last year. She's a catch, that one. Makes me wonder.

Neil Young is playing and I'm at the tea lounge on my old stool in the corner, feeling whistful. I liked this life I had here in many ways. It wasn't working, but it was good. Maybe I'll come back to it one day.

It's opening day of the political season folks, and this ones going to be wild with the fightin' 110th Congress set to take center stage for the year. In fact, the media/horserace primary for Edwards, Hillary, Obama et al will largely be about who can be the best spokesperson for the real action going on inside the Dome. That's good. Real things are happening.

Two quick examples:

Apropops what I said the other day, Rep. Murtha is set to deny Bush funding for escalation in Iraq (an excellent first step).

On a more rhetorical note (talk matters), Rep. Frank says Katrina is "ethnic cleansing by inaction." Damn. He also wants to let shareholders vote on CEO pay. Double-damn.

These are good signs. Have a little hope today.

I'm going to be moving my politics blogging to Future Majority (just as most of my tech is going to the work blog). The OJ is going to keep driving on that wild bohemian values kick, maybe with some kind of fancy-ass aggregator page for the real stalkers out there.

Oh my goodness. this shit rules. My mom has been talking up Guitar Hero to me after her experience doing it for her big LAN parties at the EMU, but I played it last night with my political gang over at Fred's and I now understand what all the hype is about. It's awesome!

I see a near-future where you have a pocket-amp-sized device that plugs into the controller port and has a standard pickup which can actually teach people to play guitar for real; online concerts are coming soon. Twelve-year-olds will love this stuff.

On the side, we also got to watch the technological equivalent of Girls Gone Wild, which is funny too.

Anyway, NYC is treating me well as usual, although I am beginning to pine for the routine and comfort of home. I still have some road ahead though: five more days here and than at least three or four in SF doing some meetings and (cross fingers) attempting to buy a car.

Bush is reportedly set to roll out his plan to escalate the occupation in Iraq, following along with the heir-apparent "McCain Doctrine" and explicitly rejecting all the elements of that big bipartisan "we've got your ass covered, George" committee that family consigliare Howard Baker fixed up.

Cocksucker.

Whether or not Nancy's House and/or Harry's Gang stomps on this will be a major test for the new year. Bush has no public support for this or any other plan of escalation, and nobody with a shred of strategic insight believes it will do anything but get more people killed quicker. This shouldn't happen.

Stomp it. Stomp it right now and make it the spine-breaker for this pathetic lame duck asshole. The C-in-C is drunk, or at least acting like it. Take his keys.

Also, to all my neo-hippie kin: this summer would be a great time to ramp up some big old protests. Climate's right, and it plays into a lot of evolving dynamics. Let's get on top of this and have someone with brains organize it rather than leaving it up to ANSWER, eh?

Credit to Jai (Jill's friend who we were hanging out with) for coming up with this:

2007: It's a Double-Oh-Seven Year

I'm not sure exactly what the best way to phrase it is, but I think that's a winner because it's clever, upbeat and best of all true.