Running Local

This Train of Thought Makes All Stops

Archive for the ‘Events’ Category

Saudi Intervention in Bahrain Presages Widespread Economic and Security Disruptions

Posted by Bob Kohm on March 14, 2011

Reports have emerged already from reliable sources (such as Stratfor) that Saudi forces may have already entered Bahrain in support of the besieged government and that Omani forces will enter today as well.

I cannot emphasize enough how important this development could be for America and the world– please do not discount this development because the media is not reporting on it adequately due to the news overload from Japan and Libya; frankly I suspect that this is happening right now in part because of the saturation of the news cycle as Saudi intervention has been rumoured to be ready to go for three weeks now.

Why is this so important? There are two major reasons. First, Saudi and GCC military intervention tells us that there is the real possibility of the Shi’a rebellion succeeding, a major problem as it is being financially and politically backed by Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps and representing the long feared first action of Iran on the Western side of the Gulf. As Stratfor points out, Saudi and Omani intervention becomes a very apparent threat to an Iran that is feeling particularly belligerent these days. I would add to that that while Iran cannot really project any land power across the Gulf, it is not without reason to suspect that they might try overt air or naval action or, much more likely, might wage a large scale, thinly covert terrorist wave campaign sponsored by the IRGC and targeted at Saudi and Omani ol targets as well as against the US 5th Fleet which is based in Bahrian. America is economically vulnerable right now and a crippling strike on oil distribution or production facilities or even the renewal of something like the “Tanker War” of the 1980s, the mining of the Straits or even the announced “closing” of the Straits would be a direct attack on our economy; if gas is already heading to $4 based on Libya, what would it go to if the Persian Gulf oil flow was interdicted, and what would $7-10 gas do to our economy? It’s got to be a seductive idea to the Ayatollahs– flexing Iranian muscle against the Saudis to possibly establish an Iranian puppet connected to the Kingdom by a causeway while damaging the Americans and making a long term rise in oil prices inevitable. America’s options will be limited– we can’t afford a general war with Iran and doing anything meaningful to Iran will further exacerbate the oil crisis, we’d be limited to tactical actions like going after Iranian naval assets.

Second, Saudi intervention to put down one of the “popular” revolts sweeping the region makes the possibility of internal instability in the Kingdom much more possible than it appears to be right now. I don’t really need to go into the huge global repercussions of internal strife in the Kingdom which threatens or limits production and distribution.

Should either of these situations come to pass– and one happening makes the other much more likely to happen as well in a cascade– other actors will come into play, notably Venezuela. Chavez will be unable to resist the chance to further screw the US by messing with his own oil production to exacerbate our difficulties at a time when his fortunes are starting to fade. Japan is totally reliant on the Gulf for its oil and is obviously already in a chaotic state and in a little reported (in the West) but very active confrontation with China over the Spratly Islands, which has flared badly over the last six weeks– what impact could there be on that situation, even moreso because of the petroleum/natural gas reserves suspected to exist there?

If I’m right, this intervention could be the start of a bad spiral extending globally over the coming months. It might present dramatically over the next few days or it could unfold slowly over the next few weeks, but be assured that there will be very negative ramifications of a Saudi/GCC intervention in Bahrain.

Advertisements

Posted in American Politics, Events, Foreign Affairs, Iran, Islamists, Middle East, Warfare | Tagged: , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Minor League Night

Posted by Bob Kohm on July 14, 2009

I am an unabashed lover of Minor League baseball, the “lower” the league the better. Last night I went to the Carolina League game between our local Potomac Nationals and the Lynchburg Hillcats with my two sons and a good friend who brought his son & daughter.

The differences between the full blown Major League experience and going to a minors game is the difference between spending a week at Disney World and happening upon a summertime Firemen’s Carnival out in the country, and I mean that in the best possible way. Every year I trek to a fair number of Major League games, be they in Washington or Baltimore or New York, and I love going to them, but they’re a production. The seats usually coast between $30 and $75, you get bowled over with $25 parking charges and confronted with Epcot-esque diversions and distractions. Baseball, which is to my mind the game that most benefits from an intimate setting, is being played on a magnificent field that seems to be miles away and is being ignored by 35,000 of the 45,000 people in attendance at the game. Sure you can get into it if you’re determined to in the way that I usually am and there’s few things better than a playoff game in a Major League park, but still, there’s just so much laid on top of the experience that finding the essence of the game, the idyll, is a task.

Last night, on the other hand, we enjoyed Dollar Night with the Potomac Nats in a “stadium” made out of aluminum bleachers and wooden walls adorned with the kind of cheesy advertising that only a Southern minor league park can bring you. Every Monday home game fro the P-Nats offers $1 general admission tickets that are at a distance from the field that would cost you $575 at Yankee Stadium and $1 grilled hotdogs– how do you beat that? The game experience itself is what baseball should be about– tons of kids rooting earnestly for “their” team, even if they don’t know who all the players are, chasing down foul balls and getting autographs from the players who willingly make themselves available to sign any ball, bat, program or napkin offered to them. The players run out every grounder, they dive for every out of reach ball; for the most part they’re job applicants rather than acknowledged gods of sport and their aspiration is emblazoned on their uniforms along with the team name.

Somehow it’s the antithesis of what Major League baseball has made itself into– it is pure. It’s an American experience from before the days of Walmart and The Olive Garden, and those are becoming so rare. One of the things I love about goign to these games is meeting the people around me and listening to their conversations. The Dads spend the game explaining the finer points of the double paly to young kids who don’t get it but sit in rapt attention, the Moms make jokes about the Dads, the kids just take it all in between bites of hot dogs and gulps of sugary drinks while dreaming of being on the field themselves. Between innings you get some of the cheesiest, silliest promotions– kids racing the mascot around the bases for a bobblehead prize, tricycle races, bowling with plastic balls down the first base line and, of course, the two staples of Minor League enticements– kids run the bases after the game and the Friday Night Fireworks.

It’s just right. It’s basbeall without commitment to a “huge” night, both financially and logistically. It’s baseball that a non-baseball fan can enjoy– heck, it’s something to do for a few bucks on a warm night, it’s silliness and laughs and bad for you food and some of the best people watching around. If you love the game, it’s a chance to see some great baseball played up close by guys who may just be on the cover of Sports Illustrated in a few years.

Go to a Minor League game. Trust me on this one; you’ll find out what the magic of baseball has always been about.

Posted in Baseball, Cultural Phenomena, Events | 3 Comments »

Bruce Springsteen and the Cult Of Audio Idiocy

Posted by Bob Kohm on February 2, 2009

Some people have no capacity for sheer enjoyment.

After Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band’s performance at the Super Bowl last night, I was confronted with one of my least favorite types of music snobs– the one who can’t simply enjoy the music but has to crap all over it out of a sense of superiority. A friend of a friend posted to Facebook that Springsteen once again proved how “awful” he was and opined that everybody who enjoyed him was a “moron”.

Now let’s be honest– I couldn’t care any less for the musical taste of some random bozo with access to Facebook; it’s a free country and you can listen to whatever you want. Finding out that said bozo was the progeny of a Daddy who had an extensive music collection and thus felt he was entitled to pass judgement on the musical taste of others– now that was annoying in the same way that the Holiday Inn Express genius commercials are annoying.

Toss the name Bruce Springsteen out amongst the musically pretentious and you are bound to hit three of these dopes– people who despise whatever is popular by virtue of its popularity. According to these dilettantes, if the unwashed masses find something enjoyable then it can enjoy no merit of its own– if the musical swine like it, it must be slop. These twits always seem to forget that it is swine who also find truffles.

Whether it is Springsteen or the Beatles or the White Stripes, there is always some fatal flaw that these fools must imagine, some obscure band that they and 17 other brother schmucks have heard of from a website that went down for good three days ago that does it far better or from whom the star act stole their material. I imagine it makes them feel good, feel somehow superior to eschew the band or singer that world has recognized as great and instead revere three meth addicts from Tacoma who couldn’t buy a pack of Twinkies with their career earnings- which of course makes them so much the greater as they haven’t sold out, man.

Here’s reality, Facebook Boy– there are so many great acts out there that nobody has ever heard of that you can stop pretending that you’ve uncovered the greatest band of all time but that you’re the only one who can recognize them due to the anarcho-fascist music industry holding down the talent. It doesn’t make you intelligent or make you seem to have fantastic taste– it makes you an overinflated gasbag in need of catastrophic deflation, preferably with a Slayer keyring.

People love Bruce Springsteen– did you see how the stadium reacted to the man last night? That’s because people love his music. Unless you’re endeavoring to mathematically analyze music and identify the track that adheres most seamlessly to the divine ratio, then please shut the hell up and stop telling us that we’re all wrong and you’re the only possible arbiter of musical taste. It’s music– if it is loved, it is doing exactly what music or any artform is supposed to do. It’s eliciting a reaction.

You, on the other hand, are inducing nausea. I’ll try not to throw up all over your father’s record collection while remembering for the hundreth time that proximity to people with taste is no indication of someone actually having any.

Posted in Cultural Phenomena, Events, Jerks, Music | Tagged: , , , | 7 Comments »

Silver Nomads in the Purple Tunnel of Doom

Posted by Bob Kohm on January 22, 2009

I understand security needs. I understand logistics. I even understand that when an event is as large as the Inauguration of Barack Obama, there are going to be problems.

What I don’t understand is how Terry Gainer, the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Senate, is being allowed to blatantly lie about the way yesterday’s Inaugural was carried out in the streets surrounding the Capitol.

Terry Gainer is the bad penny of security here in the Capital; he was the number two at the Washington Metropolitan Police, roundly acknowledged as one of the worst major metropolitan police forces in the nation. Later, he became the Cheif of the Capitol Police, the force that polices the Capitol campus and its environs. The reviews for him there were, and I’m being nice, less than stellar. Now, at the Senate in what should be a fairly ceremonial post as the Sergeant at Arms, he’s still flapping his gums authoritatively about things he knows little about and has no control over.

The golden tickets in Washington this week actually came in many colors; amongst them Orange or Blue got you a seat on the Capitol pediment, Purple got you into the standing area closest to the Capitol, Silver got you into standing areas clustered right in front of the Capitol. The purple tickets were handed out to senior staff of the various Obama state organizations and to the guests of Congressmen; silver were the tickets of the folks who had good connections and those who were insanely lucky enough to get a ticket from their local Representative.

For some those tickets of purple and silver were as good as gold; for perhaps as many as 20,000, however, the alchemy of the Secret Service turned them not just to lead but nearly to arsenic. According to Sergeant-at-Arms Gainer, however, there were a few thousand people “inconvenienced”, for reasons that he’s given at various times as “overcrowding”, “counterfeit tickets”, “everybody unexpectedly showing up”, and a few other whoppers.

My party of six all had silver tickets and, in theory, did everything right. We set a 4am alarm here in Alexandria, about 25 minutes from the Capitol by rail. We were on the street in DC by 6.20, better than five hours in advance of the ceremony. We grabbed a cup of coffee at Union Station and set out for what we anticipated to be a semi-chaotic but ultimately rewarding process.

For a while things made sense– there were immense banners and signs color coded to the tickets, clearly illustrating where to go from Union Station. For some reason they petered out at the Purple Gate, leaving the Silver group, by far the largest of the officially ticketed hordes, to wander in search of bafflingly sparse officials to guide them.

The Purples had problems, too. At the corner of First Street and Louisiana Avenue the mob was forming. Unpublicized amongst the official calls to arrive at the Capitol insanely early, the Secret Service had decided to not open any gates until nine o’clock. What needs to be understood is that in addition to preventing access, they also prevented outflow. Streets all over the area were closed by the Secret Service to prevent people from moving freely in the secure zone– they had basically created a very small, steel mesh bag and kept pouring more and more people into it without regard for safety.

That bag’s largest node on the north side of the National Mall was First Street NW between Louisiana Avenue & D Street, a span of roughly a block and a half. By 7am, that area was literally a wall of humanity. As the Purple ticket holders arrived to find the gates still locked, they quickly overmassed the designated holding area and someone– whether it was the Secret Service, the Army, the Metropolitan Police, the DEA, or one of the many other police authorities and agencies out there– decided to have line up on First Street. They filled it in no time flat. The problem was that according not only to the instructions on the back of the tickets and some of the officials on the street, the Silver people were supposed to head up First to D and make a left to reach their access point to the Mall at Third & D.

As we attempted to do as we were instructed with several thousand of our closest friends in tow, we ran into the wall. It appeared to be an impossibility– First Street was literally packed from curb-to-curb and from Louisiana to D with people who couldn’t lift their arms due to overcrowding. We found a uniformed Secret Service agent and asked him what to do– his advice was to head up First as it was our only option. We trusted the positive mood of the day and the good humor of the people and, with a chanted mantra of “Excuse me”, waded into the fray. After nearly 20 minutes that saw us progress about a half block into the one and a half block corridor a river of people were pushing their way back towards Louisiana with the incredible news that D Street was closed by the Secret Service and that people were being told to go back to Louisiana Avenue. After a few moments of disbelief and then finding a low wall to climb and confirm that D was indeed closed, we retreated.

After a twenty minute slog back through the still condensing crowd, we made it back to Louisiana. We could see another line hard against the walls of the Department of Labor at Second Street and, having nowhere else to go we tried again to wade through an increasingly hostile crowd of Purple People to get to it. This time, to cross a span of about 100 feet took fifteeen minutes. Things were getting much worse, and we were becoming the Silver Nomads upon the Purple Sea.

Finally reaching the other side of the Purple line, we headed for the Department of Labor only to find that line was also composed of Purples and that there was no access to Silver portals there, either. A police officer walking 20 feet overhead on the walls of the Department of Labor advised us to head for the tunnel that runs under Labor and out to D Street. We got to its mouth and saw what looked an awful lot like hell. The tunnel stretched off in a straight line far into the distance, with an intersecting tunnel to the left, through which the line stretched in a solid, unmoving wall of people at least a half mile long and ten abreast. Seeing that there was no way we could ever negotiate it, we again retreated. That tunnel, in which thousands of, again, Purple ticket holders were trapped until after the ceremony, has come to be known as the Purple Tunnel of Doom across the blogosphere.

We came back to the area aroudn the labor department and were told by a Secret Service agent to, incredibly, head back up First Street but to stay by the left-hand walls. We debated if he was insane or not and found a police officer who opined that he was… but told us to go back to the tunnel. A Military Police sergeant dressed head to toe in camos told us to do something completely different and impossible– it had become clear that none of the authorities were talking to each other. We headed back into the First Street blender, sticking to the left wall.

Suffice it to say that over the next hour and a half, as we inched forward towards D Street literally through the bushes, shrubs, railings and grates that abutted the walls of the buildings to the left side, our arms pinned to our sides and with no ability to turn our bodies at most times to the left or right no real progress was made. The sheer weight of those behind us caused forward motion not because D Street was open, but because the mass of people was being further and further, almost impossibly, compressed.

At 9.40, the Secret Service succumbed to that inexorable pressure and opened D Street to a single file line of people coming up our left wall. We had seen people injured, we had seen brave medics and doctors– not in an official capacity, mind you, but just members of the mob– fight their way backwards to help them. Finally, after nearly two hours in the blender, we emerged onto D Street and a wide open street. The Army told us to move to Third and D, the marked Silver portal, and head in. It wasn’t to be.

Reaching Third Street, we were confronted with a security cordon manned by the DC Metropolitan Police. An officer helpfully told us to ball up our silver tickets and throw them away– the Secret Service had set up Silver gates in places that they weren’t supposed to causing more chaos, with two of those gates– according to the cop– “exploding”. All Silver portals were closed and we were told to head down Third to reach the general public viewing areas back on the Mall. That advice lasted for all of 100 feet– the Army had put up steel fences across Third Street and declared that only Parade ticket holders could cross there, despite the fact that the parade wasn’t going to happen for five hours and the huge mass who had broken free of First Street was filling the space. We headed back the way we had come only to find the Secret Service telling us to go back again tot he steel fences. The Army told us to go back to the Secret Service and tell them to stop sending them people. Chaos, again, reigned.

We fell back on the DC police strongpoint and they gave us the one decent bit of information we had all day– they were opening the Third Street Tunnel, which runs under the mall, to pedestrians to get to the other side of the city. Heading underground into the massive freeway tunnel that runs beneath the Capitol precincts, we walked about a mile and came out to reassuring signs once again directing us to the Silver portals on that side of town. It was 10.15am, the ceremony started at 11.30, and we were finally going to get in. The energy and laughter of the early morning had returned.

We then turned the corner and saw the Silver line. We walked on, trying to find its end. It changed direction every block, stretching around buildings, up streets, across open spaces. As a longtime DC area resident who has been through his portion of Presidential event security screenings, this line was at least– at least– three hours long. We were finally, inexorably defeated. We grabbed a vantage point at 6th & Maryland along a Jersey wall with a blocked view of the Capitol six blocks away and no chance of hearing anything and sent out a scouting party to figure out how to get onto the Mall in the general area. That was impossible as well– at seventh street the police told us that 14th was the next access, but it was closing as we spoke– 23rd street, on the other side of the Washington monument and with no view of the Capitol over a mile away, was the new access and it would likely last only a few minutes.

Our party splintered shortly thereafter. My wife and I headed for the plaza in front of the Native American museum, which had no speakers but had some view of the Capitol. We waited to see Obama walk out onto the Capitol Platform, took some great pictures of people in trees trying to see, and headed for the subway knowing that if we stayed we’d hear nothing and face equal chaos on the way out of town.

We were frustrated, yes, but we were also exhilarated– we had shared the moments of history in a crowd that was, for the most part, buoyed by the day and that had maintained decorum in what easily could have been a stampede and trampling situation. The people we felt bad for were those who had paid more than the $1.85 we had paid to reach the ceremony– we felt bad for our random Irishman who was denied entry by the poor planning and lack of communication amongst the authorities, whom we were told by a Metropolitan police sergeant were not in radio contact– the Secret Service had denied access to their radio net to the other agencies, even though Secret Service had overall control of the streets. We felt bad for the little old ladies who had waited a lifetime for this, who had made the trek from the Deep South at great cost to see history– and were denied. We felt bad for the disabled people who we were told, again by Metro PD, were literally upended and thrown from their wheelchairs at the Disabled entrance when the crowd broke free and charged the gate. We felt bad for the women hit by a train when she was forced from the platform at Gallery Place by the crowds.

So, Terry Gainer, Sergeant-at-Arms to the Senate, today I call you a liar in addition to being incompetent. To the Secret Service, a group I’ve always admired, I hand the shame and despair of those who wandered through the crowds, who got stuck in the tunnels, who came to experience history, not your ludicrous lack of planning and cooperation.

History was made on Tuesday. Only the good humor of the mob kept tragedy, rather than annoyance, from sharing that stage.

Posted in American History, American Politics, Autobiographical, Events, Jerks, Just Annoying | Tagged: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Silver Tickets, a Random Irishman, and the Madness of Crowds

Posted by Bob Kohm on January 21, 2009

It has been a long week.

We’ve had Texans in the beds, Jersey girls in the family room and an Irish journalist on the floor. We had no intention of going to the Inauguration, then we had tickets to the Inauguration, then we were left standing on the street after five hours in the cold, amongst the mob.

Did I mention that it has been a long week?

An acquaintance and sometimes drinking buddy asked several weeks ago if we might have room for him for the Inauguration. Of course we said yes and, after he asked if we could take a few of his staffers from Texans for Obama we said “yes” again. In the intervening weeks we prepared for something between two guests and half the population of Austin and even had friends volunteering their houses if we had so many Texans that we wouldn’t be able to walk the floors without stepping on them.

Last Sunday the original guest, we’ll call him the Index Texan, arrived at 10.30 in the morning on the train from New York, only to inform us that he was it. The women whom he expected to join us had crapped out because one of them hadn’t been able to reach him the day before and so had never left Texas, the couple who was staying out in the exburbs had never called him back about the offered geographic upgrade, various others hadn’t played out. It was anticlimactic but fine– one Texan was still fun and we wouldn’t have to worry about hot water for showers.

The phone rang about twenty minutes after I went to bed. The Index Texan was talking to my wife in the kitchen for a few minutes before I heard them coming down the hall. “There’s news,” said Beth– “We’re heading out to Dulles, Ken’s friend from Ireland is landing at 12.30am”. Apparently the Index Texan had made the acquaintance of an Irish freelance journalist who came to Texas to be part of the Obama experience during the campaign and wound up moving into his house; the Irishman had now jumped on a plane with the expectation that he’d stay at the house of someone whom he had met on a previous plane… which didn’t quite work out.

Next came the Jersey girls and their brother, via Houston, South Jersey, Philly, far northern Maryland and all points in between. The friend of the woman who wasn’t coming was coming and bringing friends. They showed up roughly five hours before we had to wake up to go to the Inaugural.

Did I mention we were going to the Inaugural?

My wife had decided to volunteer on the Mall during the Inaugural and she was determined to have the experience of the day; I was content to watch it from the warmth of my family room on the big screen TV– I was actually quite adamant about it when people asked the week before. The Index Texan said that he might be able to score what had been billed as an impossible-to-get extra ticket and asked if I wanted it– off went the kids to a friend’s house and I was making plans for the several layers of clothing I would wear the next day. Beth was getting ready for bed and a 3am wake-up call when we got a text from the Index Texan, now resplendent in a tux and boots at the Texas Society Inaugural Ball. Did she want a ticket too? After an agonizing four seconds of soul searching, she said yes. We were all going to the show. I’ll tell that story in the next post.

Here we are, then, on Wednesday night– the Jersey girls have departed, we think the Random Irishman leaves in the morning, the Index Texan is with us until Friday. We’ve had an interview with the Irish equivalent of the Today Show conducted at 3.30 AM from our family room and another Irish media interview conducted from the crush that was 3rd Street mid-morning, we stopped for a chat with the cast of Morning Joe and were harassed by a belligerent homeless man in Union Station, we had some great political and ethical conversations over pizza and beer in the dining room, we’ve made some new friends and had a few laughs. We also had new people with us who busted their butts to get Barack Obama elected in one of the most Republican states in the nation, and that made our Inaugural experience so much the richer. So, to the Random Irishman, the Index Texan, the Jersey Girls and their brother, thanks, it made this surreal moment, the impossible Inauguration of a black man with a strange name as President of not only New York and California but also Alabama and Utah, that much more surreal. We need our house back, now. Let’s do this again some day… say, perhaps, in four years.

Posted in American Politics, Autobiographical, Events | Tagged: , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

MLK Day of Service

Posted by Bob Kohm on January 16, 2009

I wonder if the word on this initiative is really getting out? Monday, January 19th– Martin Luther King, Jr. Day– is being cast as a National Day of Service, in which we celebrate the holiday not just as a day off and a chance to sleep in or shop but as a day to emulate the ideals of Dr. King by performing volunteer activities in the service of others. I personally love the idea– how better to teach my children about Dr. King’s ethos of bringing people together to effect change– and will be out with my wife and kids participating in volunteer projects that morning. If you’d like to find projects to participate in near your home, please stop by this page for a searchable list of service projects in your neighborhood, broken down by zip code and proximity.

Go help a neighbor in memory of a time when society was literally recast by others doing the same.

Posted in Cultural Phenomena, Events, Social Justice | Tagged: , , , , | 3 Comments »

 
%d bloggers like this: