Article on British soldiers wounded in Afghanistan. The authors brother is one of them.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/Afghanistan/article6954027.ece
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Attacks on Chancellor's Home
Well the students on campus, peacefully protesting have finally been delegitimized.
Sad, very sad.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/12/12/BASN1B3D59.DTL
http://www.dailycal.org/article/107793/eight_arrested_after_attack_on_chancellor_s_house
Sad, very sad.
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/12/12/BASN1B3D59.DTL
http://www.dailycal.org/article/107793/eight_arrested_after_attack_on_chancellor_s_house
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Highlights from Obama's Nobel
But the world must remember that it was not simply international institutions -- not just treaties and declarations -- that brought stability to a post-World War II world. Whatever mistakes we have made, the plain fact is this: The United States of America has helped underwrite global security for more than six decades with the blood of our citizens and the strength of our arms. The service and sacrifice of our men and women in uniform has promoted peace and prosperity from Germany to Korea, and enabled democracy to take hold in places like the Balkans. We have borne this burden not because we seek to impose our will. We have done so out of enlightened self-interest -- because we seek a better future for our children and grandchildren, and we believe that their lives will be better if others' children and grandchildren can live in freedom and prosperity.
Concretely, we must direct our effort to the task that President Kennedy called for long ago. "Let us focus," he said, "on a more practical, more attainable peace, based not on a sudden revolution in human nature but on a gradual evolution in human institutions." A gradual evolution of human institutions.
The belief that peace is desirable is rarely enough to achieve it.
And even as we confront a vicious adversary that abides by no rules, I believe the United States of America must remain a standard bearer in the conduct of war. That is what makes us different from those whom we fight. That is a source of our strength.
We lose ourselves when we compromise the very ideals that we fight to defend. And we honor -- we honor those ideals by upholding them not when it's easy, but when it is hard.
The non-violence practiced by men like Gandhi and King may not have been practical or possible in every circumstance, but the love that they preached -- their fundamental faith in human progress -- that must always be the North Star that guides us on our journey. For if we lose that faith -- if we dismiss it as silly or naïve; if we divorce it from the decisions that we make on issues of war and peace -- then we lose what's best about humanity. We lose our sense of possibility. We lose our moral compass.
Let us reach for the world that ought to be -- that spark of the divine that still stirs within each of our souls.
Somewhere today, in the here and now, in the world as it is, a soldier sees he's outgunned, but stands firm to keep the peace. Somewhere today, in this world, a young protestor awaits the brutality of her government, but has the courage to march on. Somewhere today, a mother facing punishing poverty still takes the time to teach her child, scrapes together what few coins she has to send that child to school -- because she believes that a cruel world still has a place for that child's dreams.
Let us live by their example. We can acknowledge that oppression will always be with us, and still strive for justice. We can admit the intractability of deprivation, and still strive for dignity. Clear-eyed, we can understand that there will be war, and still strive for peace. We can do that -- for that is the story of human progress; that's the hope of all the world; and at this moment of challenge, that must be our work here on Earth.
Concretely, we must direct our effort to the task that President Kennedy called for long ago. "Let us focus," he said, "on a more practical, more attainable peace, based not on a sudden revolution in human nature but on a gradual evolution in human institutions." A gradual evolution of human institutions.
The belief that peace is desirable is rarely enough to achieve it.
And even as we confront a vicious adversary that abides by no rules, I believe the United States of America must remain a standard bearer in the conduct of war. That is what makes us different from those whom we fight. That is a source of our strength.
We lose ourselves when we compromise the very ideals that we fight to defend. And we honor -- we honor those ideals by upholding them not when it's easy, but when it is hard.
The non-violence practiced by men like Gandhi and King may not have been practical or possible in every circumstance, but the love that they preached -- their fundamental faith in human progress -- that must always be the North Star that guides us on our journey. For if we lose that faith -- if we dismiss it as silly or naïve; if we divorce it from the decisions that we make on issues of war and peace -- then we lose what's best about humanity. We lose our sense of possibility. We lose our moral compass.
Let us reach for the world that ought to be -- that spark of the divine that still stirs within each of our souls.
Somewhere today, in the here and now, in the world as it is, a soldier sees he's outgunned, but stands firm to keep the peace. Somewhere today, in this world, a young protestor awaits the brutality of her government, but has the courage to march on. Somewhere today, a mother facing punishing poverty still takes the time to teach her child, scrapes together what few coins she has to send that child to school -- because she believes that a cruel world still has a place for that child's dreams.
Let us live by their example. We can acknowledge that oppression will always be with us, and still strive for justice. We can admit the intractability of deprivation, and still strive for dignity. Clear-eyed, we can understand that there will be war, and still strive for peace. We can do that -- for that is the story of human progress; that's the hope of all the world; and at this moment of challenge, that must be our work here on Earth.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
...
"Let it be told to the future world that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet it."
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Out
The Protesters are out of the building. Now there will be a mass meeting outside Dwinelle hall to discuss demands.
Today
Here is what happened. All of this may not be totally correct. Last night a group of about 40 students occupied Wheeler Hall, slept in sleeping bags until morning when they barricaded themselves in due to police presence. Protesters gathered outside as riot police from all over the bay area steadily arrived. Fire alarms were pulled all over campus, disrupting some 3800 students. The occupiers had a set of demands including striking down the 32% tuition increase, making the campus safe for undocumented students, and making the UC budget transparent, among other things. Professor's including Lakoff and Roy helped negotiate between students, the police and the administrations. As of right now, the police are inside and have arrested and charged 41 people, not all students. They are supposed to be released into the crowd 15 minutes from now, without handcuff.
Officers from UCPD, Berkeley PD, Alameda County Sheriff, and Oakland PD are now on campus in full riot gear.
This is brief, all add to it later.
Officers from UCPD, Berkeley PD, Alameda County Sheriff, and Oakland PD are now on campus in full riot gear.
This is brief, all add to it later.
update from Daily Cal
dailycal Police officers hit protesters with batons on the southeast side of Wheeler, and protesters fought back.
Update from Daily Cal
protesters will be escorted out by UCPD and only cited for trespassing. Ananya Roy will observe.
Videos and Article
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2009/11/20/BA611ANSAB.DTL
This video is kind of intesne:
This video is kind of intesne:
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
TIME
"California is America but more so, beckoning dreamers who want to cook Korean tacos or convert fuel tanks into hot tubs. … And it's where America is going: a greener, more advanced and more global economy"
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
You all have to check this out!
This is pretty cool. It tells you good times to go to the bathroom in theaters haha. I don't agree with all of them but who would. Look up any movies that you have seen recently and see if you agree. Its called: runpee.com .
RunPee
P.S. I don't think anyone should leave the theater during 500 Days of Summer no matter whats going on (earthquake, nosebleeds, whatever)
RunPee
P.S. I don't think anyone should leave the theater during 500 Days of Summer no matter whats going on (earthquake, nosebleeds, whatever)
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Here comes Halloween, and...
Horror movies! The first one on the list: The original Wicker Man
Scary in an extremely creepy way, cool soundtrack (its almost a musical).
In the end, it would be scary if Nick Cage was in it. Haha.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
For the next time I get mauled by a space Yeti on Hoth, and my friend Han has to think on his feet.
Yes it exists. And yes it will soon be mine.
http://www.thinkgeek.com/geektoys/plush/bb2e/
http://www.thinkgeek.com/geektoys/plush/bb2e/
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Gave Him Life
She held his hand in both of hers gently against her chest. His hand against her chest, he could feel the rhythmic movements of her breath, the very thing that gave her life, which once, he believed, gave him life. At this moment he was not wrong to question. Others would think him selfish, especially she. Never though, would she verbalize that accusation. An outsider would observe their relationship, this present situation and say that he blew everything out of proportion. Humans are flawed though; here he wore his own on his sleeve for all to see. Relationships don’t work without trust he thought. Steadfastly he held onto that belief.
“I am not proud of it.” Softly she whispered, trying to look into his eyes but unable to because of the direction of his gaze, straight ahead not focused on the road but on the tumult which occupied his mind. “It’s not something that I like to tell people.” She said as he began to pull his hand away. Not giving up on him, she continued to hold. “It’s not even that important.”
“That’s not even it. What bothers me is the fact that you won’t tell me.”
“I have never really told anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone, am I? You’re not just anyone to me.” He confessed shakily.
“You know what I mean. I’ll tell you someday. I promise that I will tell you before you leave.”
“Is that meant to comfort me?”
Silence filled the cab. Yes, he would leave eventually. It almost gave him enough reason to give up right then and there but he couldn’t find it in himself. She awkwardly stared away. His gaze shifted away from the road, to her face. She pretended not to notice. He studied how she bit her lip. What was she thinking? She bit her lip on occasion, but only when she was deep in thought. It was always a serious gesture. One would not even call it a gesture really. It was more of a seemingly unconscious tell. He had always wondered if she even knew that she did it. She had probably never realized it; she thought she was impenetrable, unreadable when it came to feelings, like a brick wall. She wasn’t. If she became aware of this slight marker in her body language she would certainly strive to end the habit. She almost never let her feelings show; she hid them almost as well as he did. He noticed the little things like that. He noticed a lot more about her then others did, maybe even her.
They brought out different things in each other or at least he would have liked to think that such was true. He knew, at least, what she brought out in him and wished that one day she would show him what he did to her. She brought out feelings, emotions, actions that would not have existed otherwise. This was almost the closest he had ever been to anyone in his life. The inner caverns of his existence were shrouded from all. He kept it that way, maybe not always on purpose. He was not quite sure if he even liked how he was but nevertheless he was what he was and change came hard. She was different. He knew this and attempted, perhaps in vain, to make this one count, to go for the gold. For her he would try with all his might to lift that shroud. Though he wished for change, he was the first to admit that this, all of this, scared him to death. Lots of things scared him though. This was not the first time that he manned up and admitted to himself that he was terrified. Though he was young, he was not as young as some. It didn’t matter if no one else noticed this, he did and in reality, what else matters?
He had lived, seen things, experienced things others had not. Growing up fatherless is not done with ease, and some don’t realize or appreciate this fact. He would never confess to anyone that he might have had a hard time. This was his shroud in action. It surrounded him and from what he had heard from his mother, the father that had not always been there, drowned in the same water. This paternal similarity was one of the aspects of his life which scared him, he admitted it, yet only to himself. It was recognized in the darkest hour of the night, when he was deep in thought and sometimes hurt. He felt that he could only count on himself to understand what drove him, his own personal catalyst.
He wished, though, that one day he would meet a girl, a girl that he could tell his story, about how life had handed him his share of lemons and how it had hurt. He would tell her how, in opposition to that struggle, he overcame. He wished that at the end of his days, he could tell that girl, some girl, that he was a champion of life and that she was securely part of the finished project, his own homestead built bravely in the wilderness of life’s expanses, but built nonetheless. He longed for that girl, who would serve as the sun to his moon. He was more than willing to chase her endlessly throughout time, if only for the minor satisfaction of one glimpse of her radiant glow before she set. This was the kind of girl that he longed for. How would he know her when they met? He would not recognize her of course. He would have to throw himself, wholeheartedly into the search, day after day, until he found the one that fit.
He pulled his hand away, she let it go, and he cracked his knuckles on the dashboard and again on the steering wheel. Cracking his knuckles was a nervous habit, but this was a deliberate move to separate their hands. He didn’t know why he wanted to let go. It was not out of anger; he hoped that she realized this. It was out of solitude, independence, he could think more clearly this way, without distraction. Though she did not look at him it was awkward as she waited for the return of his hand into hers. She eventually gave up and knew that it was not coming back. He brushed the hair off of his forehead. His hand passed his nose; it smelled of her.
He steered with his knee, his right hand on his right knee while that leg held down the gas, his left hand out of the cracked window. It was cold. She shivered. He returned his hand into the cab of the truck and rolled up the window. Though he was unsure of his feelings at the moment, he would never be able to stand the thought of her shivering. The thought of her being uncomfortable for any reason disgusted him.
Miles passed along with the dashes in the center of the two lane road. Minutes passed along with notes that made up the music, the soundtrack which serenaded their ride. It played ominously low, filling the silence that hung uneasily between the two. It was low because he had turned it down when she had first mentioned what she longed not to tell him. They both awkwardly suffered through the silence, the silence that was lined with the almost indiscernible music.
He wished he had not had this reaction, but he also believed it to be a crime to deny any feeling, fleeting or not. She wished that she had never mentioned it.
“You can tell me. I don’t mean to pry but you brought this up, what do you expect me to do?” He felt like he was almost begging. In his mind, begging was worth this, begging was worth her.
They both knew that they would not last. They could not last. Life had each taking different routes, though he would set upon his far sooner. They did not doubt the existence of these different roads which constantly loomed in the distance, like early morning fog on a nameless road. But in this moment, was there any harm in trying to have, to experience something, something real? Real like lounging on a southern porch watching fireflies dance on some hot summer night. Real like conversations three thousand miles away from home at four in the morning. Real like the smell of summer, of grass, of dirt, of baseball. Real like the smell of Christmas. Real like standing on a hill at night over a town that in the morning would no longer be home. They saw nothing wrong with the attempt and as the universe goes, there is no wrong in it. She wanted this to work. He wanted this to work. This would be one last hurrah, the last sweet memory of a tiny town which parented him from childhood to adulthood, a part of him that he vowed never to forget. He vowed never to forget her. This would not end here, not now. He would work it out, they would work it out. She would understand what he was going on in his head, what was on his plate, what was expected of him. Maybe she was not his forever but she was his memory or at least a portion of it, a portion which he so longed to be perfect, his fairy tale.
“You don’t tell me your secrets.” She had run out of excuses.
“How have you become so sure that I even have secrets? Of course I do, everyone does. I don’t tell you them because you don’t ask, and I don’t bring them up. If you asked, I promise you that I would not hesitate to answer any question that you posed, damn the outcome. I want this to be true. Can’t this be true? Can’t we be true? We only have so long. I don’t want to waste it on little things like this.”
“Then drop it, we won’t waste another second.” She spat out confidently.
“Put yourself in my position, would you not act the same?”
She stared at him blankly. He had left her speechless. She racked her brain for a reply. His argument was logical, though it was based on emotions, which have proven throughout time to be the essence of what is deemed illogical. He wondered if he was breaking her. Not breaking her though, he wondered if he was getting through to her, that’s what he wondered.
The silence returned, taking front seat to their conversation. The uneasiness set in. He wished that she would just tell him, that she would delve. He would understand, no matter what. He owed her that for the way she made him feel. He owed her more then she even knew. He would not judge her. This aching that he felt was worse then anything that she could lay upon the table. He wished that she would end this now, the chaos which panged his heart and mind. He didn’t need this, not now. She knew it. She worried though. She worried when worrying was not needed. She only had to look at him to know that he was sincere when he said that he would understand. He cared for her as she for him. They could lie for hours, speaking not one word, and be as comfortable as a pair of sailors on the high seas. This uneasiness was foreign to both. He wished that it would end; she wished that it would end. He wished that she would tell him, she wished that he would stop this. They drove. The sound of the tires and the faint murmur of the speakers filled their ears but they didn’t hear. They were somewhere else, with each other, begging the other to bail them out of the jail that was this misery. They had not felt this before. They drove. The sound of the tires and the faint murmur of the speakers filled their ears but they didn’t hear. It began to rain. He let her know.
“I am not proud of it.” Softly she whispered, trying to look into his eyes but unable to because of the direction of his gaze, straight ahead not focused on the road but on the tumult which occupied his mind. “It’s not something that I like to tell people.” She said as he began to pull his hand away. Not giving up on him, she continued to hold. “It’s not even that important.”
“That’s not even it. What bothers me is the fact that you won’t tell me.”
“I have never really told anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone, am I? You’re not just anyone to me.” He confessed shakily.
“You know what I mean. I’ll tell you someday. I promise that I will tell you before you leave.”
“Is that meant to comfort me?”
Silence filled the cab. Yes, he would leave eventually. It almost gave him enough reason to give up right then and there but he couldn’t find it in himself. She awkwardly stared away. His gaze shifted away from the road, to her face. She pretended not to notice. He studied how she bit her lip. What was she thinking? She bit her lip on occasion, but only when she was deep in thought. It was always a serious gesture. One would not even call it a gesture really. It was more of a seemingly unconscious tell. He had always wondered if she even knew that she did it. She had probably never realized it; she thought she was impenetrable, unreadable when it came to feelings, like a brick wall. She wasn’t. If she became aware of this slight marker in her body language she would certainly strive to end the habit. She almost never let her feelings show; she hid them almost as well as he did. He noticed the little things like that. He noticed a lot more about her then others did, maybe even her.
They brought out different things in each other or at least he would have liked to think that such was true. He knew, at least, what she brought out in him and wished that one day she would show him what he did to her. She brought out feelings, emotions, actions that would not have existed otherwise. This was almost the closest he had ever been to anyone in his life. The inner caverns of his existence were shrouded from all. He kept it that way, maybe not always on purpose. He was not quite sure if he even liked how he was but nevertheless he was what he was and change came hard. She was different. He knew this and attempted, perhaps in vain, to make this one count, to go for the gold. For her he would try with all his might to lift that shroud. Though he wished for change, he was the first to admit that this, all of this, scared him to death. Lots of things scared him though. This was not the first time that he manned up and admitted to himself that he was terrified. Though he was young, he was not as young as some. It didn’t matter if no one else noticed this, he did and in reality, what else matters?
He had lived, seen things, experienced things others had not. Growing up fatherless is not done with ease, and some don’t realize or appreciate this fact. He would never confess to anyone that he might have had a hard time. This was his shroud in action. It surrounded him and from what he had heard from his mother, the father that had not always been there, drowned in the same water. This paternal similarity was one of the aspects of his life which scared him, he admitted it, yet only to himself. It was recognized in the darkest hour of the night, when he was deep in thought and sometimes hurt. He felt that he could only count on himself to understand what drove him, his own personal catalyst.
He wished, though, that one day he would meet a girl, a girl that he could tell his story, about how life had handed him his share of lemons and how it had hurt. He would tell her how, in opposition to that struggle, he overcame. He wished that at the end of his days, he could tell that girl, some girl, that he was a champion of life and that she was securely part of the finished project, his own homestead built bravely in the wilderness of life’s expanses, but built nonetheless. He longed for that girl, who would serve as the sun to his moon. He was more than willing to chase her endlessly throughout time, if only for the minor satisfaction of one glimpse of her radiant glow before she set. This was the kind of girl that he longed for. How would he know her when they met? He would not recognize her of course. He would have to throw himself, wholeheartedly into the search, day after day, until he found the one that fit.
He pulled his hand away, she let it go, and he cracked his knuckles on the dashboard and again on the steering wheel. Cracking his knuckles was a nervous habit, but this was a deliberate move to separate their hands. He didn’t know why he wanted to let go. It was not out of anger; he hoped that she realized this. It was out of solitude, independence, he could think more clearly this way, without distraction. Though she did not look at him it was awkward as she waited for the return of his hand into hers. She eventually gave up and knew that it was not coming back. He brushed the hair off of his forehead. His hand passed his nose; it smelled of her.
He steered with his knee, his right hand on his right knee while that leg held down the gas, his left hand out of the cracked window. It was cold. She shivered. He returned his hand into the cab of the truck and rolled up the window. Though he was unsure of his feelings at the moment, he would never be able to stand the thought of her shivering. The thought of her being uncomfortable for any reason disgusted him.
Miles passed along with the dashes in the center of the two lane road. Minutes passed along with notes that made up the music, the soundtrack which serenaded their ride. It played ominously low, filling the silence that hung uneasily between the two. It was low because he had turned it down when she had first mentioned what she longed not to tell him. They both awkwardly suffered through the silence, the silence that was lined with the almost indiscernible music.
He wished he had not had this reaction, but he also believed it to be a crime to deny any feeling, fleeting or not. She wished that she had never mentioned it.
“You can tell me. I don’t mean to pry but you brought this up, what do you expect me to do?” He felt like he was almost begging. In his mind, begging was worth this, begging was worth her.
They both knew that they would not last. They could not last. Life had each taking different routes, though he would set upon his far sooner. They did not doubt the existence of these different roads which constantly loomed in the distance, like early morning fog on a nameless road. But in this moment, was there any harm in trying to have, to experience something, something real? Real like lounging on a southern porch watching fireflies dance on some hot summer night. Real like conversations three thousand miles away from home at four in the morning. Real like the smell of summer, of grass, of dirt, of baseball. Real like the smell of Christmas. Real like standing on a hill at night over a town that in the morning would no longer be home. They saw nothing wrong with the attempt and as the universe goes, there is no wrong in it. She wanted this to work. He wanted this to work. This would be one last hurrah, the last sweet memory of a tiny town which parented him from childhood to adulthood, a part of him that he vowed never to forget. He vowed never to forget her. This would not end here, not now. He would work it out, they would work it out. She would understand what he was going on in his head, what was on his plate, what was expected of him. Maybe she was not his forever but she was his memory or at least a portion of it, a portion which he so longed to be perfect, his fairy tale.
“You don’t tell me your secrets.” She had run out of excuses.
“How have you become so sure that I even have secrets? Of course I do, everyone does. I don’t tell you them because you don’t ask, and I don’t bring them up. If you asked, I promise you that I would not hesitate to answer any question that you posed, damn the outcome. I want this to be true. Can’t this be true? Can’t we be true? We only have so long. I don’t want to waste it on little things like this.”
“Then drop it, we won’t waste another second.” She spat out confidently.
“Put yourself in my position, would you not act the same?”
She stared at him blankly. He had left her speechless. She racked her brain for a reply. His argument was logical, though it was based on emotions, which have proven throughout time to be the essence of what is deemed illogical. He wondered if he was breaking her. Not breaking her though, he wondered if he was getting through to her, that’s what he wondered.
The silence returned, taking front seat to their conversation. The uneasiness set in. He wished that she would just tell him, that she would delve. He would understand, no matter what. He owed her that for the way she made him feel. He owed her more then she even knew. He would not judge her. This aching that he felt was worse then anything that she could lay upon the table. He wished that she would end this now, the chaos which panged his heart and mind. He didn’t need this, not now. She knew it. She worried though. She worried when worrying was not needed. She only had to look at him to know that he was sincere when he said that he would understand. He cared for her as she for him. They could lie for hours, speaking not one word, and be as comfortable as a pair of sailors on the high seas. This uneasiness was foreign to both. He wished that it would end; she wished that it would end. He wished that she would tell him, she wished that he would stop this. They drove. The sound of the tires and the faint murmur of the speakers filled their ears but they didn’t hear. They were somewhere else, with each other, begging the other to bail them out of the jail that was this misery. They had not felt this before. They drove. The sound of the tires and the faint murmur of the speakers filled their ears but they didn’t hear. It began to rain. He let her know.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Why? Haha
REPORTER: Ms. Whitman, can you address your voting record? Have you ever registered as a Republican before 2007?
WHITMAN: So what I’ve said is there is no excuse for my voting record. I cannot be proud of it. Being able to vote in this country is a right and everyone should take advantage of, and I didn’t as often as I should. And you know what, leaders need to stand up and acknowledge their mistakes, acknowledge when they wish they would’ve done something different or better. And I have said now on numerous occasions I have made a mistake and there’s no excuse for it.
REPORTER: Did you ever register as a Republican before 2007?
WHITMAN: So what I have said is that I did not vote as often as I should. I didn’t register as often as I should and I’m sorry about that and there is no excuse for it.
REPORTER: ...you were registered in 1998, and there’s no record of that. Are you inferring that you did? The Bee reported after you were not registered at all before 2002.
WHITMAN: So when I came back to California, I registered in 2002, so I don’t know where that came from, but I registered in 2002 when I came back to California, so thank you for that.
REPORTER: Steve Poizner suggested that you should get out of the race because of this because no one who hasn’t voted before needs to be elected governor, but also can you address the general appearance that someone who did not register to vote or vote over almost most of their adult life didn’t really care about politics and didn’t care about certain civic affairs on either a state level or a national level.
WHITMAN: So I could imagine that Steve Poizner would like me to get out of the race, and it’s not happening.
REPORTER: But answer the question.
WHITMAN: I will, just give me a chance, okay? So I think it doesn’t look good, right? I made a mistake. I didn’t register to vote as often as I should. I didn’t vote as often as I should. It is inexcusable and it’s not the right thing. But as I said, leaders stand up and take accountability for their mistakes and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
REPORTER: But the question is why, and I think the Washington Post today said it may be a display of stunning indifference in not having any interest in issues and social problems and so I think people want to know why.
WHITMAN: What I have said is it was not the right thing to do.
REPORTER: But why?
WHITMAN: It just wasn’t the right thing to do. I should have and I didn’t.
REPORTER: Why not?
WHITMAN: I should have voted and I didn’t and there is no excuse for it and I should’ve voted. I have said many times that I should have and I didn’t and there is no excuse for it.
REPORTER: But why? I’m not saying
WHITMAN: I shouldn’t have -- should have and I didn’t. We’re going to move on. Thank you for that.
REPORTER: You made a good point today saying people want to hear the truth, and you made a big push for authenticity. So why can’t you answer the question of why you didn’t vote for – it’s not a small span of time. It’s almost your entire adult life.
WHITMAN: Well I’m going to repeat what I said— I did not vote. I should have voted. It is inexcusable. Voting is something that all of us should take advantage of and I didn’t.
REPORTER: We’re just trying to get some sort of sense of your frame of mind.
WHITMAN: I understand, and I’ve said what I’m going to say about it, so thank you for that. Jack.
WHITMAN: So what I’ve said is there is no excuse for my voting record. I cannot be proud of it. Being able to vote in this country is a right and everyone should take advantage of, and I didn’t as often as I should. And you know what, leaders need to stand up and acknowledge their mistakes, acknowledge when they wish they would’ve done something different or better. And I have said now on numerous occasions I have made a mistake and there’s no excuse for it.
REPORTER: Did you ever register as a Republican before 2007?
WHITMAN: So what I have said is that I did not vote as often as I should. I didn’t register as often as I should and I’m sorry about that and there is no excuse for it.
REPORTER: ...you were registered in 1998, and there’s no record of that. Are you inferring that you did? The Bee reported after you were not registered at all before 2002.
WHITMAN: So when I came back to California, I registered in 2002, so I don’t know where that came from, but I registered in 2002 when I came back to California, so thank you for that.
REPORTER: Steve Poizner suggested that you should get out of the race because of this because no one who hasn’t voted before needs to be elected governor, but also can you address the general appearance that someone who did not register to vote or vote over almost most of their adult life didn’t really care about politics and didn’t care about certain civic affairs on either a state level or a national level.
WHITMAN: So I could imagine that Steve Poizner would like me to get out of the race, and it’s not happening.
REPORTER: But answer the question.
WHITMAN: I will, just give me a chance, okay? So I think it doesn’t look good, right? I made a mistake. I didn’t register to vote as often as I should. I didn’t vote as often as I should. It is inexcusable and it’s not the right thing. But as I said, leaders stand up and take accountability for their mistakes and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
REPORTER: But the question is why, and I think the Washington Post today said it may be a display of stunning indifference in not having any interest in issues and social problems and so I think people want to know why.
WHITMAN: What I have said is it was not the right thing to do.
REPORTER: But why?
WHITMAN: It just wasn’t the right thing to do. I should have and I didn’t.
REPORTER: Why not?
WHITMAN: I should have voted and I didn’t and there is no excuse for it and I should’ve voted. I have said many times that I should have and I didn’t and there is no excuse for it.
REPORTER: But why? I’m not saying
WHITMAN: I shouldn’t have -- should have and I didn’t. We’re going to move on. Thank you for that.
REPORTER: You made a good point today saying people want to hear the truth, and you made a big push for authenticity. So why can’t you answer the question of why you didn’t vote for – it’s not a small span of time. It’s almost your entire adult life.
WHITMAN: Well I’m going to repeat what I said— I did not vote. I should have voted. It is inexcusable. Voting is something that all of us should take advantage of and I didn’t.
REPORTER: We’re just trying to get some sort of sense of your frame of mind.
WHITMAN: I understand, and I’ve said what I’m going to say about it, so thank you for that. Jack.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
A Sad Sunny Saturday
I am still mystified with the poor, poor Cal performance.
We just need to put this behind us, beast SC next Sat and win out. Then the Rose Bowl will belong to Paddy's boys one more time.
Chargers tomorrow. The dolphins? Hold the wildcat and the game is locked down.
Party Down. (An awesome show)
We just need to put this behind us, beast SC next Sat and win out. Then the Rose Bowl will belong to Paddy's boys one more time.
Chargers tomorrow. The dolphins? Hold the wildcat and the game is locked down.
Party Down. (An awesome show)
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Birg
We would like to express our appreciation to our campus community - faculty, staff, students, and alumni - for the orderly, peaceful and effective way in which the September 24th budget protest actions were held on and around campus. While there was large participation in the day's actions, they occurred with minimal disruption to university operations and to our responsibilities to our students. Berkeley is proud of being the home of the Free Speech Movement and yesterday's protests exemplified the best of our tradition of effective civil action. Your actions have sent a clear and important message to our legislators and to the California public that the State's disinvestment in public higher education must stop. We hope that we can build on these actions together to continue to inform the public and the State legislature that cuts to the University of California undermine our State's future and that it is in the interests of all of the people of our great State of California to reinvest in public higher education. Robert J. Birgeneau Chancellor
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Bob Reich
"I don't blame Robert Birgeneau, I don't blame Mark Yudof, I don't blame the governor, I don't blame the Assembly, I blame ourselves for turning our back on the problem and not addressing the problem."
9/24 Walkout
Solidarty with the Walkout. I am excited for the noon rally on Sproul.
Remember, don't give up on the world class education you have now for the world class education you want. Work for what you want, don't take what you have for granted. Fight for what you deserve and never, never miss an opportunity to learn.
You can't expect to receive a paycheck for work that you never did.
With the upcoming University of California walkout, we asked our Facebook community recently how the impending UC and CSU cuts were affecting them. The response was overwhelming:
Stephanie from SF State needed only two classes to graduate with her bachelor's degree. But one of the courses was eliminated -- graduation will have to wait until next year.
A mother from the East Bay worried that her daughter couldn't enroll in a single class she needs and is about to lose her student status, her financial aid, and health insurance.
Sarah from UC Davis saw her tuition increase almost ten percent, while her mother, a state employee, just took a 15 percent pay cut.
UC Berkeley will be eliminating approximately one out of every ten courses this coming year. UC San Francisco will potentially have to reduce their faculty by fourteen percent because of the recent cuts. UCLA has reduced support to research centers by fifty percent. UC Irvine has completely stopped admitting students into their education program.
All across the state, we are choking off opportunity for hundreds of thousands of young Californians to build a better life for themselves and a better future for California.
And it's our fault. We've allowed our system of governance to de-fund and de-prioritize higher education, putting our state's economic future in jeopardy.
Let me be clear: I favor fully funding the UC system. Cannibalizing our state's future through cuts to education is the exact opposite of the kind of reform and long-term thinking we need from our leaders in Sacramento.
But the current resource-constrained situation forces us to make difficult choices about our shared priorities. We must protect our environment, provide universal health care and invest in infrastructure development. And therein lies our statewide dilemma.
We have a system in California that discourages thoughtful budget and financial planning, requiring a two-thirds majority every year to pass a budget that paralyzes our state. We have a complex web of ballot initiatives that further complicates the process.
Walkouts like the one currently planned will become more frequent unless we undertake systemic reforms and truly take California in a new direction.
We need to convene a constitutional convention and get serious about changes to the system. Until we do, we're jeopardizing our ability to be competitive in the global economy. Preparing our children for success in the 21st century necessitates investment in higher education not cuts to it.
In San Francisco, we have a robust rainy day fund. We drew down on our reserves to make sure not a single teacher in San Francisco was laid off when the recession hit. We created a partnership between SFSU, the school district, and the city to guarantee a college education to every public school 6th grader who wants one. And if their families can't afford tuition, we help with that too.
We operate with a limited budget in San Francisco, just like the state. But we managed to keep teachers in the classroom and promise every student a chance to go to college. We didn't raise taxes -- we reformed the budget process and used resources in a smarter way.
It's time to shake up the system that's put our state in this mess. We need come together to fundamentally rethink how we govern California.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The End is Not Near, It is Here
Finals are upon us here at Cal. That means late night crossroads and unlimited amounts of free coffee. I hated that place so much Freshman year but every semester, come finals, I love it. The sticky tables are not best suited for intense studying but they are pretty well suited for just about everything else from Dystopian philosophical discussions to book clubs to slime volleyball (of course some actual studying is usually involved).
I cannot wait for:
my classes to be done with,
summer (especially),
a new apartment (though i will miss my old one dearly),
JusticeCorps ,
and a whole new year.
(and seeing Star Trek for the 3rd time)
I cannot wait for:
my classes to be done with,
summer (especially),
a new apartment (though i will miss my old one dearly),
JusticeCorps ,
and a whole new year.
(and seeing Star Trek for the 3rd time)
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Happy Day After
So Cinco De Mayo involved Jon, Marty, Me, and four pounds of Carne. I began to prepare mentally at around 10 o'clock in the morning so that I could deal with how good the food was going to be. But when the meal and Tecate came, it was all better then we could have excpected anyways.
This weekend I went to Relay for Like up here in Berk. The weather sucked but people still came out, it was pretty cool. Except for the Thai food dinner that I could not partake in but I got over it quick. Here is my Lumanaria that I hand crafted:
Luckily it survived after the bag that it was sitting next to burst into flames.
Tomorrow, Stark Trek...
This weekend I went to Relay for Like up here in Berk. The weather sucked but people still came out, it was pretty cool. Except for the Thai food dinner that I could not partake in but I got over it quick. Here is my Lumanaria that I hand crafted:
Luckily it survived after the bag that it was sitting next to burst into flames.
Tomorrow, Stark Trek...
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