Who Killed The Electric Car?

It's a shame. It really is. My worst fears were confirmed last night. The U.S. car industry and oil companies don't want to offer alternatives to gasoline driven automobiles. The evidence is there for everyone to see. If you don't believe me, watch Who Killed the Electric Car? and see for yourself.

This brilliant documentary frames the issue from the perspective of progressive California lawmakers enacting 'zero emission' legislation in the mid-1990s, at which time, Saturn and other automakers began unveiling electric cars; sleek, fast, and efficient, touted by Hollywood, engineers, and greens, as the answer to oil dependency. So, 10 years later, there are no electric cars on the road. What happened?

I could go on and on, but suffice it to say, I saw enough evidence to suggest that the fix was on. Keep in mind, I loathe Michael Moore and all that he represents. I think he's a fat hack, and serves little purpose other than an object of parody (although, in fairness, I haven't seen Sicko yet). So, I go into these 'conspiracy' documentaries with a healthy bit of skepticism. I understand the limitations, the ease of manipulation through this medium, etc... That said, the evidence is overwhelming. A couple of highlights.

-Big knock against electric car is that it only gets 80 miles per charge, more or less. So, a GM scientist comes up with a battery that can go 300 miles per charge. The result......the auto industry asks him not to do major magazine stories about it, effectively censuring him, and then promptly sells the patent to Chevron. I wonder what they've done to advance this technology lately?

-After the leases ran out(there was no option to buy), the companies colluded together, collecting all of the vehicles, without giving 'customers' the option to re-up the lease or buy the cars outright. In fact, GM, among others, promptly destroyed perfectly functional 'green' vehicles for no known reason. After promising that the parts would be recycled on other gasoline-driven vehicles, there is evidence that all of the cars were taken to a desert proving ground in Mesa, Arizona to be demolished. Why?

-Instead of further committing to technology that actually works, albeit with a some kinks (like any other new technology....we didn't quit cell phone advancement because the first 'flip phones' battery life was low), the auto industry cited 'lack of interest' and is now pursuing (with the help of your federally funded tax dollars) hydrogen fuel-cell technology that is only about 20-30 years away. Moreover, a prototype auto currently costs over $1 million to produce and an infrastructure of hydrogen 'filling stations' will be needed before the first cars can ever be sold. Lord knows how much those will end up costing Americans. Talk about a red herring!!! How many years' profit will Chevron and company be able to eek out before Uncle Sam puts on his proper green attire? I'm guessing quite awhile. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the hydrogen cars actually emit more greenhouse gases than current automobiles.

Indeed, electric cars have been around a long time, even outnumbering gas driven cars 100 years ago. So, why not return to this technology to wean the United States off of foreign oil that is costing us so dearly in nearly every strata of society? In case you have forgotten, the United States is responsible for 46% of global oil consumption annually.....Just a thought....

Don't Bring Me Down

Most of you reading this will try to understand what I'm saying. It'll be tough though, as living in Nicaragua poses a set of challenges rarely encountered by those of us fortunate enough to live in U.S. or Europe.

Now, with that caveat, let me say that I live the 'enchanted life'. Drinking smoothies in the morning by the pool, going to the gym, tennis lessons, practicing my guitar, I have the schedule/life of a teenager. I come and go as I please. In essence, I'm a 'kept man', enjoying the talents and good fortune of my wife's position in society. I work when I want, my schedule is flexible enough to allow me to literally watch my son grow up before my eyes.

So, what seems to be the problem?

Well, folks......living in Nicaragua can be heavy. Like any other foreigner, we employ a staff (in our case 2) of employees to help around the house. Whether needed or not, it almost seems like the right thing to do, as unemployment is rampant in Managua, and one is constantly reminded of the poverty and despair in what is the 2nd poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. As such, I constantly feel like a walking ATM machine, a microcosm of the relationship between Nicaragua and the outside world in general. As I weave in and out of traffic in my little privileged neighborhood of expats and wealthy Nicas, driving Mercedes SUVs and other fortresses on wheels, I am reminded just how profoundly different my life is from the majority of the world.

I was reminded of this fact again on Saturday, when Brodie's nanny was mugged by 4 young men, unemployed and thirsty for rum, as she left the stratosphere of our safe little haven and upscale neighborhood, to the streets of Managua. As is common here in Las Colinas, every Saturday, domestic employees embark on their long journeys back to the countryside, where they often have small children, families that they have left behind for the good part of 6 days a week. Our situation is no different, as Josefa shows up at work on Monday morning at 8am, staying with us until Saturday morning, before returning to her two young daughters, aged 9 and 14. At the middle and end of each month, the customary 'pay day', it is not uncommon for young men to lie in wait, at bus stops, and outside the entrance of neighborhoods such as ours, like sharks waiting for the sea lions to inevitably enter the water, knowing that the domestic employees, mostly women, are carrying two weeks worth of salary, at the very least.

Well, it happened to Josefa on Saturday morning, as she lost 2 weeks' pay, health insurance money, and clothes and food we had given her. Most of all, she was traumatized by the prospect of unfettered violence that awaits her every time she leaves our neighborhood. You see, the police will do nothing. They are merely here to collect bribes, as they are more or less a tax collecting device of the state. Anyhow, Josefa and her ilk make up a demographic of the country, well over 90% that simply doesn't matter in the eyes of the police. And, it's getting worse. Since the Sandanistan takeover of power in November, foreign investment has waned, businesses are beginning to fold, and the overall state of affairs is disintegrating. I sense that the scene that unfolded on Saturday morning will only serve as a precursor, symbolic of more heartache and sorrow for Nicaraguans in the coming year.

The United States, and the 'developed' world in general, has a legacy of providing financial aid to Nicaragua for a long time. Indeed, the relationship between the two has been acrimonious and unhealthy for decades. Unfortunately, most of the goodwill and aid that is sent here has ended up lining the pockets of the 0ligarchal government and its cronies, rarely making it to its intended use. Worse still, the Ortega regime has reversed course on improving transparency of government, tightening his grip on power, and overall, making it less hospitable to donate in the country. Its truly frustrating, as Ortega and his 'Bolivarista' counterparts in Venezuela and Bolivia bemoan the disparity of riches in the Americas, while any attempt to help is met with disdain and suspicion. The rest of the world simply wants accountability for the money it donates. While it is difficult to sit and watch people suffer, it is unacceptable to continue to give aide to a corrupt government that has a long history of graft and large scale theft.

So, I've come to the conclusion (my personal belief only) that Nicaragua needs tough love. So what if Ortega makes a lovely world tour of Algeria, Iran, Cuba, and Syria, decrying the American Imperialism and whatnot. So what if left-leaning organizations tout an idea that the United States is cruel and lacks compassion. Who cares if America loses yet another public relations battle in the world. It's simply the right thing to do. To Ortega and his cronies, Josefa and the rest of Nicaraguans exist only as a concept of working class proletariat. Who's going to help Josefa get home safely without being mugged? Who's going to provide the jobs needed to keep unemployed bands of young men off the streets and out of trouble? Expats are some of the best employers in Managua, that's a fact. Who's going to fill the void when they all leave, frustrated with the hostile stance of a government living in the past?

This place really brings me down.....The irony is, I often write here about the bluesmen of the American South, the hard times of my countrymen throughout American history. But, in the end, I have no concept of the blues, other than a cosmetic shell of geographic and cultural empathy. I don't know what its like to lose 100 dollars and wonder if I must put my children out on the street for lack of food. I cannot imagine this reality. But, in a way, it's heavy for me, knowing such a world exists, reminded of it everyday. The frustrating thing is, the more I try to help, the more I perpetuate the idea of entitlement from everyday Nicas. There is an attitude of "Ah, you are a Chele (European or American), so you are Daddy Warbucks.....give me a dollar". So, any act of charity only exacerbates the problem. If I give away a pair of shoes today, that person will dog me for a new pair tomorrow.

There is a traffic light that I must traverse on my way to the local supermarket to buy the things only a foreigner or wealthy Nica can afford. You know, meat, granola bars, yogurt, etc...As you may imagine, this is prime real estate for the desperate poor, and otherwise, to besiege motorists for handouts and charity. Well, generations of Nicas have laid claim to this intersection, and the seed of cultural charity has already been sown. For the children that stand here, in lieu of school, this is their education. The idea is perpetuated that foreigners are rich, Nicaraguans are poor, therefore, the foreigners should give money, no questions asked. So it goes with the Ortega goverment. At some point, we have to stop giving away shoes and force the government to make its own.

That prospect truly brings me down.

Masacre de las Moscas (Massacre of the Flys)

'Among the attributes of God, although they are all equal, mercy shines with even more brilliancy than justice'
- Miguel de Cervantes

Another day in the life.....Nicaragua style. In our ongoing efforts to pursue the high life, while representing the US of A, Kim, Brodie, and I invited some friends over for a little American style BBQ. Well, considering the fact that we're in Nicaragua, without a proper outdoor grill, nor any of the 'authentic fixins' for a legitimate barbecue, we made out ok.

First of all, it must be said that preparing for a meal here in Managua is far different from driving up the street to Kroger and perusing the vast, air-conditioned aisles, combing over brand after brand of various patés, Doritos, and Alaskan King Crab. In Managua, you take what you can get. In this case, we were looking for a decent pork roast. Luckily, there is a Bavarian deli right up the street from our house. I'm convinced there is a German deli and British pub in every city on earth! Anyway, so, we're lucky enough to be close to 'Managua's German deli'. I took a guess that posta de cerdo is the closest thing to a pork roast, as my vocabulary isn't exactly spot-on perfect with the various cuts of meat. It simply looked like a pork roast (it was).

By this time, you may be asking yourself, how are you planning to have a barbecue without a grill?! Well, that's simple.....The night before, you make sure there is plenty of Toña (beer) and Flor de Caña (rum), ice cold of course. Afterwards, you ask your pregnant wife to boil eggs, peel potatoes, cook bacon, prepare potato salad, and baked beans, while you do some intricate planning for the following day (plug in the crock pot). Next, you lightly sprinkle cayenne and black pepper on the aforementioned unidentified hunk of pork. After this, you will have much thirst, which is an opportune time to do a quality check on the Toña. Finally, you can put the 'roast' into the crock pot on low, to cook overnight. With any luck, the following morning you will have pulled pork sandwiches, potato salad, and a baked bean casserole......3 American classics! like the Constitution, Statue of Liberty, and the Golden Gate Bridge.

So it went.....the preparation of the barbecue. The day of the barbecue went well for the most part. There was much reverie and good times to reflect upon. We invited a family from Spain, and another from Japan.....logical don't you think? Here we are, an American family hosting a southern barbecue with an unnamed pork cut from a German delicatessen in Nicaragua, for a Spanish and Japanese family. At any rate, everything was going great. the kids were playing futbol/soccer (not sure what to call it anymore) and a 3/4 yr. old watered down version of baseball, while the parents drank the aforementioned Toñas.....a peaceful Sunday afternoon (despite the presence of our 'energetic' Labrador Retriever, Stella). Then, shortly before the feast of pulled pork sandwiches, it happened.......invasion of the flies...

Now, folks. I've seen some flies in my day. I once worked at a Winn-Dixie as a young lad, and I had to clean out fruit crates from an non air-conditioned warehouse. I've been around my share of filth in my life (figuratively speaking as well .....hahahaha). Anyway, I rarely have seen anything like yesterday. Hyperbole aside, the flies really began to wreak havoc on our afternoon. It must've been excruciatingly difficult for our Spanish friends, as they had to endure 'interesting' Japanese and American renditions of their language, all the while with armies of insects buzzing in their faces. This probably isn't what they had in mind.

Perhaps in response, but to my amazement nonetheless, I discovered a Spanish talent that I knew not existed. The country that brought us the toreador, Velasquez, and the siesta, also brought us the fly assassin. With much skill and dexterity, I witnessed an insect slaughter of biblical proportions. Luis, armed only with old country swagger, Marlboros, and plastic swatter, swept through a legion of buzzing flies, leaving carcasses in his wake. The killing fields grew, through the haze of Toñas and Managua humidity. Before long, he confidently passed off the baton to his offspring, Mateo and Carlota, who quickly made work of a few, until it was Uncle Sam's turn to mete out justice. I'm ashamed to admit that the americanos didn't fare so well.

In all, a pleasant way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon......sans the flies.

Monday Morning Blues # 9

(playing a little blues between cooking up some pulled pork sandwiches)

Hungry? Good, because I'm offering you some Barbecue........Barbecue Bob, that is. Robert Hicks, aka Barbecue Bob, was born in Walton County (Walnut Grove), Georgia in 1902. Famous for entertaining guests at Tidwell's Restaurant in the 1920s, Bob earned a great nickname, as well as a reputation for playing some of the finest blues in the Atlanta area. Bob's brother, 'Laughing' Charley Lincoln recorded some records as well, but never achieved the amount of notoriety, in life nor death. Both men probably learned their craft from the mother of Curly Weaver (Savannah 'Dip' Weaver) in Newton county in the late teens and early 20s, before heading to Atlanta.

Although I'm partial to McTell (see Monday Morning Blues #3 here) when it comes to the Atlanta sound, there is really no one that sounds like BBQ Bob. Like fellow Georgian McTell, Bob brandished a Stella 12-string, yet while McTell, and others (notably Leadbelly) utilized heavier strings, tuned down from concert pitch, Mr. Hicks went lighter. His tuning/guitar setup is truly mysterious, as some think he removed the 2 bass strings on the 5th and 6th course, to get the violent bass strum that harkens to the Delta sound, yet is altogether different.

10 or 12 strings, it's not really important. What is important is the unique rhythm and sound that Bob gets out of his Stella. Listen to 'She Shook Her Gin', basically his take on 'Shake That Thing', complete with his trademark guitar thump turnaround. My personal favorite though, has to be the self effacing ode, 'Barbecue Blues', a story of unrequited love from a man that 'ain't good looking, teeth don't shine like pearls' to his 'brown' that done him wrong. His vocal delivery is particularly interesting and captivates the listener. A prime example of this is his clever use of metaphor in the 'Black Skunk Blues'. Listen as he explains the dangers of interracial, or 'mixed' dating in 1920s Atlanta.

Alas, fame was short-lived for the culinary bluesman from Newton county, as he contracted pneumonia brought on by influenza, dying shortly thereafter in 1931 before his 30th birthday. Fortunately for his music, it lives on today in his well-preserved sides, 65 of 68 have been preserved and can be heard for the most part on 'Chocolate to the Bone' and 'The Essential Barbecue Bob'. I gravitate back to his music for many reasons, but above all, for his expressive voice and unique 12 string setup/playing. It doesn't hurt that he's a fellow Georgian.....I guess I'm just sittin' here in Managua this morning with 'Georgia on my mind'

Lolita, The Movie

Lolita.....the name itself implies many things. Most of all, it harkens the image of a teenage femme fatale that destroys decent men in her wake. Ahh, yes, the Nabakov novel was made into a quite remarkable, albeit controversial film in the early 1960s, by up and coming director Stanley Kubrick.

Well, I'm ashamed to admit it took me the better part of 30 years to see this cinematic masterpiece, a film so edgy and transcendent, that it could hardly be better made today. At any rate, the protagonist Humbert Humbert, a visiting literature professor from France, happens upon an unassuming small Ohio town, only to be completely destroyed by a teenage vixen. Lolita, living with her tragic widow mother Charlotte Haze, competes for affection from the Frenchman. The Aprodite complex, as Kim aptly reminded me, kicks in, and the 'innocent' Lolita spins a web before long, entangling the unsuspecting Humbert Humbert, played adequately by James Mason. So enamored with Lolita, Humbert Humbert actually marries her obnoxious, boring mother, in an astounding attempt to remain closeby. The story picks up when Charlotte discovers his secret yearnings (in the form of his diary) for her daughter, and she promptly 'plays' in the rural Ohio traffic. Following her bizarre death, Humbert Humbert 'constructs' an odd arrangement with the 'innocent' Lolita, which quickly descends into romantic relations between stepfather and daughter.

Interwoven in this storyline, insert Clare Quality, brilliantly portrayed by Peter Sellers. I had no idea what an incredible actor Sellers was, as I really only thought of him in terms of the Pink Panther films. At any rate, Sellers' character, the antagonist, catches on to the dysfunctional relations between Lolita and and the French literature professor, dogging the pair, masterfully assuming disguises throughout the film, and, in the end, revealing secrets of his own. You should really see this film, if only to discover what a talented actor Sellers really was. They don't make them like that anymore. It's true. I won't spoil the ending....Perhaps you've read the book.....but, the film really is worth checking out. The best I've seen in awhile......

Word to the wise...watch out for Lolitas!