Western musings

Needless to say, Las Vegas left me completely dispirited. The Strip is effectively completely unregulated; all the infrastructure (including the new ped bridges and monorail and bollards lining the sidewalks) results from collusion between the casino bosses, installed as a customer convenience. The searing heat, labyrinthe [and mind-numbingly identical, varying only in which rococo theme was pasted on] buildings, and herds of Middle Americans waddling about — all added up into a frustration not even the only-legal-here carousing (which wasn’t even that cheap!) could assuage.

Los Angeles didn’t help much, although I did get a chance to glimpse some prettier residential streets this time. The juxtapositions still startle, the weather (smog aside) still pleases, the people are still lovely. The sense that a city is waiting to emerge hangs around some of the 1920s parts of town, but it’s overwhelmed by comically segregated suburban desolation that continues to march over the high passes into ever more remote, sometimes inhospitable valleys (Victorville, anyone?).

Bike stuff seen: a protected turn lane & bike lane on State in Santa Barbara, a bike lane on the 101 freeway near Montecito, and advanced stop lines on Santa Monica in West Hollywood.

Selfish vehicle design

Hey Salon, what’s with this fluff about Harley noise? The article, ostensibly written by a New Yorker for a San Francisco publication, has nary an ill word to say about the fact that aftermarket dealers purposefully walk right through an “off-road” loophole to sell motorcycles that violate noise and pollution standards, just to imitate a noise created by an antiquated, inferior engine technology that carries a ridiculous “brand mystique.” The article even repeats the preposterous “loud pipes save lives” canard. Loud pipes blast sound backwards, which then echoes through the urban canyons — rendering the noise useless for sonar. Annoyance is no substitute for care; bicycles make no noise whatsoever, but crash and fatality rates for bicyclists are far lower than those for motorcyclists. The fact of the matter is, a motorcycle that can be heard a mile away can, in a city, distract and unnerve thousands of people with every rev of the engine. That may appeal to some people, but it doesn’t appeal to most everyone else. This noise pollution must be stopped!

Okay, another peeve: SUV blind spots again. A driver in the center lane at an intersection decided to turn right, right in front of me. (I got out of the way.) Now, I don’t know what he was doing turning right from the center lane without signalling in the first place, but he yelled some “fuck you fucking fucker” at me after I yelled at him to signal, apparently because he didn’t see me coming. And why not? Because those monster trucks have huge blind spots, and because their drivers (taught to drive in small cars) either don’t know or don’t care. I sometimes suspect the latter — the law of the SUV jungle states that everyone else has to follow the rules, but SUVs don’t — but the blind spots are a flaw inherent to all trucks. These things must be stopped!

Lies!

Sure, the Bush administration is stubborn; what it wants, from war to tax cuts, it gets. And the result has been a yawn, or muddied applause, from America. But historically (and we can only hope it will all be ancient history soon enough), it will all be for naught; short-sighted policies and ugly demagoguery do not a great presidency make. “Presidents ought to try to do what is neither popular nor principled but what is wise,” and wisdom and eloquence, much less public spirit or even truth, are scarce around the howling void of leadership at the top. Instead, we have cynical Machiavellian spin, either breathtakingly postmodern in its rejection of truth or just doublespeak. As the newsbox graffitios say, “Lies!

1 May 2003
Re-ordered the stuff to the left to better reflect what I’m doing. A day of firsts: first croissant from Half & Half (Kaleidescope’s replacement), first cuppa coffee at Intelligentsia, first visit to the new gym, first wacky street theater in a while.

27 April 2003
So I’m sitting by my window, reading quietly, when someone on a motorcycle outside decides to rev up a loud (unmuffled) engine. The vibrations from that set off a car alarm. And now I’m pissed. Damn rude noise polluters!