Have you seen this kid? A friend sent me this video, and it's hilarious. A kind of Bush impersonation, but like nothing I've ever seen:
The SOUTH ORANGE COUNTY COMMUNITY COLLEGE DISTRICT — "[The] blog he developed was something that made the district better." - Tim Jemal, SOCCCD BoT President, 7/24/23
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
I Read the News Today Oh Boy
16 years ago today:
BURNING PALM TREES ARE SPECTACULAR, especially the ones with the absurdly tall, lean trunks that taper near the top into a mop of rustling fronds. When I see them now, these ubiquitous symbols of paradise, of Southern California, I imagine them on fire. I understand how their rustling dried fronds ignite like flammable skirts, how their crowns flame like the pompoms of an arsonist cheerleader.
.....On the evening of April 29, 1992, I approach a young man carrying a bright-red plastic fuel can, the kind you buy at gas stations for cheap when your car conks out. He is carefully pouring gasoline around the trunk of a chubby palm tree in downtown L.A. The fuel soaks into the trunk as if the tree is thirsty, and as I watch its callused bark grows dark. The young man is concentrating, applying the gasoline almost lovingly, and the round cheeks of his face are shiny as if he had anointed himself with oil before embarking on his task. But I know it's sweat. My own face is slick too. We are a block or two from Parker Center, LAPD headquarters. It is about 7:30 p.m. The sun is setting. Over half a day has passed since a Simi Valley jury acquitted four police officers charged with beating Rodney King.
.....Now I can see the clouds of the new night sky are illuminated not by the residue of a setting sun, but by faraway and nearby fires. The young man in front of me wedges newspaper into the cut fronds of the palm tree that form part of its trunk. He reaches for matches.
....."Don't," I ask him. "Please." My voice sounds funny, small, cracked.
.....He looks at me as if I am crazy. "Why not?" he asks.
....."It's a tree," I say. "It didn't do anything. It's just a tree." I feel foolish, ashamed for worrying about a palm tree.
....."Listen, lady," he says, leaning close. "It's not a real tree. It's a fake one. They're all fake." He swings his arms toward the city trees that stand at attention in their little plots of dirt. "They shouldn't be here. I'm taking this one out. Don't worry. It'll be all right."
.....He lights his newspaper and fire flames up the trunk like the backyard barbecues that, as a child, I drenched in lighter fluid. The tree will burn for a good long time. I move away but out of habit, I put my hands palms up, toward the fire, as if to gather the heat in, as if it is a campfire and not a burning palm tree.
....."See," the young man tells me as he caps his gas can, "I told you it wasn't real. If it was real, it wouldn't burn. What's real doesn't burn." His logic seems to please him. He flashes me a smile and I realize just how young he is. I'm 31. He's young. Sixteen. Fifteen. He's a kid.
BURNING PALM TREES ARE SPECTACULAR, especially the ones with the absurdly tall, lean trunks that taper near the top into a mop of rustling fronds. When I see them now, these ubiquitous symbols of paradise, of Southern California, I imagine them on fire. I understand how their rustling dried fronds ignite like flammable skirts, how their crowns flame like the pompoms of an arsonist cheerleader.
.....On the evening of April 29, 1992, I approach a young man carrying a bright-red plastic fuel can, the kind you buy at gas stations for cheap when your car conks out. He is carefully pouring gasoline around the trunk of a chubby palm tree in downtown L.A. The fuel soaks into the trunk as if the tree is thirsty, and as I watch its callused bark grows dark. The young man is concentrating, applying the gasoline almost lovingly, and the round cheeks of his face are shiny as if he had anointed himself with oil before embarking on his task. But I know it's sweat. My own face is slick too. We are a block or two from Parker Center, LAPD headquarters. It is about 7:30 p.m. The sun is setting. Over half a day has passed since a Simi Valley jury acquitted four police officers charged with beating Rodney King.
.....Now I can see the clouds of the new night sky are illuminated not by the residue of a setting sun, but by faraway and nearby fires. The young man in front of me wedges newspaper into the cut fronds of the palm tree that form part of its trunk. He reaches for matches.
....."Don't," I ask him. "Please." My voice sounds funny, small, cracked.
.....He looks at me as if I am crazy. "Why not?" he asks.
....."It's a tree," I say. "It didn't do anything. It's just a tree." I feel foolish, ashamed for worrying about a palm tree.
....."Listen, lady," he says, leaning close. "It's not a real tree. It's a fake one. They're all fake." He swings his arms toward the city trees that stand at attention in their little plots of dirt. "They shouldn't be here. I'm taking this one out. Don't worry. It'll be all right."
.....He lights his newspaper and fire flames up the trunk like the backyard barbecues that, as a child, I drenched in lighter fluid. The tree will burn for a good long time. I move away but out of habit, I put my hands palms up, toward the fire, as if to gather the heat in, as if it is a campfire and not a burning palm tree.
....."See," the young man tells me as he caps his gas can, "I told you it wasn't real. If it was real, it wouldn't burn. What's real doesn't burn." His logic seems to please him. He flashes me a smile and I realize just how young he is. I'm 31. He's young. Sixteen. Fifteen. He's a kid.
—written by Rebel Girl and excerpted from Geography of Rage: Remembering the Los Angeles Riots of 1992, edited by Jervey TervalonA Day in the Life
Last night's board meeting: encomia & diaspora
.....Nothing in particular was reported (by Clerk Tom Fuentes) as occurring in closed session, which seemed to surprise board President Don Wagner. (See video below.)
.....As you know, ATEP Provost Bob Kopecky has been on leave for some time, but he was present last night and was invited inside during the board's closed session. UPDATE: I'm happy to report that Bob will be back with us in the fall, continuing to serve the students of our district, although not at ATEP. Good for Bob.
.....The big event of the night was, I suppose, the board’s resolutions for Vice Chancellors Serban and King plus Saddleback College President Rich McCullough. These people are all leaving, of course.
.....It's really quite an exodus, isn't it? Today, I learned that Dean Susan Cooper is leaving as well; she got a job at CSUF. Recently, Dean Corum announced her intention to retire. Last semester, Dean Feldhus left us. Sheesh.
.....The Saddleback College “stadium” item was deferred.
.....The faculty reports on curriculum development and SLOs went off without a hitch. IVC's "courses" person was entertaining—but a tad long-winded. Everybody wanted out of there, asap. The SLO people managed to explain SLOs without anyone noting what a total pile of poop the whole SLO thing is. Trustees stared into space, held their breath, their noses, and hoped it would all end soon, and it did.
.....It was a pretty dreary night. The discussion about adopting a "resolution to establish an irrevocable trust and appoint a Retirement Board of Authority" was odd. (See GASB 45.) Dave Lang had lots of questions about it. Bill Jay had serious reservations about the "irrevocable" feature of this thing, whatever it is. In the end, the board went with the resolution unanimously. Still, some trustees didn't seem comfortable with it. Bill Jay looked like he might have just screwed the pooch.
.....When it came King's time to report changes in listed "Academic" and "Classified" personnel actions, he got 'em reversed. Wagner said, "You're fired." People laughed, but I thought: it's a good thing Huckleberry's headed back to Shyster City. Man!
.....Nancy Padberg took a dim view of one of the conferences that a trustee had requested. No doubt that was about Williams, Orlando Boy. He of the milk mustache.
.....The discussion about a proposed board policy regarding "security cameras" got a little heated. Lots of senior moments—even more than usual. I think there was dissatisfaction with the language of the proposal, which presupposed our going forward with buying this equipment. "Ain't necessarily so," said several trustees, especially those with memory issues and pacemakers. Most of 'em.
.....I managed to get out of there before the gavel came down. I think I heard it as the second door slammed shut behind me.
THIS MAGIC MOMENT: PRAYER AND RESOLUTIONS
(Luddites: click on the big arrow in the middle of the thing below.)
· That awkward "readout" moment
· Fuentean prayer (1:00)
· Resolution for Rich McCullough (1:48)
· Serban (3:40)
· King (4:45)
LOU REED: "THIS MAGIC MOMENT"
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