Event

Hearst blacks out the PG&E scandal. Again!

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By Bruce B. Brugmann

Often, on Wednesday, the San Francisco Chronicle will run a nice color PG&E ad on the lower right hand corner of its front page.

On Wednesday, April 16, the Chronicle did not run a PG&E ad on the front page, but it did run a major story on the front page above the fold that did a major favor for PG&E.

The story by Kelly Zito focused on public power and alternatives to PG&E, largely in Marin County where there’s an active and aggressive move to create a CCA (community choice aggregation) system that would replace PG&E
as an energy supplier in ll cities.

The story once again largely ignored San Francisco and its CCA movement headed by Sup. Ross Mirkarimi. It didn’t quote Mirkarimi nor any public power or CCA leaders, but instead used a dubious expert from the University of California at Berkeley, who never supported public power and generally supports PG&E private power and deregulation efforts to undermine without rebuttal the community- based anti-PG&E efforts.
And it once again followed the longtime Hearst policy of blacking out the key element of any serious public power story: the PG&E/Raker Act scandal and the fact that San Francisco is the only city in the U.S. that is mandated by federal law to have a public power system. (See Guardian stories and editorials back to 1969.)

I don’t blame Zito the reporter. She is only the latest in a long line of Hearst reporters who ends up executing Hearst policy of coddling PG&E and blacking out the Raker Act scandal. And, after years of questioning Chronicle reporters and editors and trying to get to the bottom of Hearst’s incessant censorship of and capitulation to PG&E, I really don’t know who to blame. But let me ask the questions again: who censors Hearst stories on PG&E as a matter of Hearst policy. The reporter? The city editor? The top editor? The publisher? Hearst corporate? Anybody over there?

In any event, I would much rather have a straightforward PG&E ad on the Chronicle front page, properly labeled PG&E, than stories that omit the Raker Act scandal and slant the stories for PG&E and against public power. B3

Click here for this week’s editorial, PG&E’s attack on CCA.

Click here for this week’s editorial, The floating peakers: An energy solution on the Bay?

Click here for The shame of Hearst

Pics: Family Immigrant Day 2008

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By Ariel Soto

On April 16, members of the thirteen immigrant community organizations that make up the San Francisco Immigrant Legal and Education Network (SFILEN) met at City Hall today in an effort to advocate for more community resources for immigrants. Immigrants represent 40 percent of San Francisco’s population and the event was an opportunity for members of SFILEN to call attention to the need for more legal and educational programs, and to speak with City Supervisors as a continuation of making San Francisco a true sanctuary for all immigrants.

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Members of the Arab Resource and Organizing Center (AROC) on the steps of City Hall, supporting San Francisco’s Immigrant Family Day.

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Supporters gathered at City Hall for Immigrant Family Day, asking City leaders to continue supporting immigrant programs for their communities.

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Members of the community came out to hold signs and show their support to keep San Francisco true sanctuary for immigrant communities.

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Members of Mujeres Unidas at San Francisco’s Immigrant Family Day.

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Ben Younes Ouanane (left), an immigrant from Morocco, spoke about the help he has received from the African Immigrant and Refugee Resource Center (AIRRC), one of the cities many immigrant rights organizations involved in the Immigrant Family Day. Joe Sciarrillo, a paralegal at AIRRC, translated from French to English for Mr. Ouanane.

Violet Blue vs. Violet Blue

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By Justin Juul

I totally got hoodwinked.

Two years ago, I bought expensive tickets to the 2006 Exotic Erotic Expo because the flyer for the event advertised a live appearance by Violet Blue, who is one of my favorite sex writers, and who I’d wanted to meet for a very long time. I never got to meet her though. Turns out there’s a porn star also named Violet Blue, and she was the one appearing. So, instead of schmoozing with a journalist, I spent my time at the expo drinking cheap beer and stalking a porn star. Snore.

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The real Violet Blue

Naturally Violet Blue the writer is pretty pissed about this kind of mix up — she claims the fake Violet Blue is using her name to attract a bigger following — and the name feud has finally made it to the courthouse. (Full disclosure: I’m a witness for the writer’s side – my story was a direct catalyst for the suit.) It seems after our missed encounter, the real Violet Blue decided she’d had enough and started looking into patent laws and ways to challenge the star of Who Violet Blew, Planet of the Gapes 4, and Beauty and the Bitch. The initial court proceedings went down last October, but the case is far from over. The porn star has been quite successful under her moniker – winning multiple AVN awards, getting countless roles, and even hosting her own radio show — and she doesn’t want to give the name up (she “officially” changed it to Violetta Blue, but continues to use the original name whenever she appears at events or stars in videos).

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The other Violet Blue (not posing with the author!)

What’s the big deal, you ask? Both of these women are involved in porn aren’t they?

Well, yes and no. The writer, whose real name actually is Violet Blue, has dedicated her entire life to showing the good side of the sex industry, whereas the other Violet Blue is just a plain ol’ sex worker. In her award winning blog, www.tinynibbles.com, and in her books, the real Violet Blue tries to show that an obsession with sex is totally natural and that “sex people” can be funny, smart, technologically advanced, artistically inclined, and full of unique ideas. She tours the world holding sex seminars on college campuses and even makes appearances on popular television shows to champion her conviction that any sex is good sex as long as it’s safe and consensual. She also believes that, contrary to popular belief, women like to watch pornography as much as men. Good deal.

But the issue isn’t about whether or not Violet Blue the imposter should be doing porn or whether or not she’s a good role model. The issue is that the real Violet Blue is constantly being mistaken for a so-so porn star and it’s fucking with her career. She can’t even win national awards, like Forbes’ Top 25 Web Celebs of 2007 (in which she won 25th place as the best pornstar/blogger) or get invited to conventions without someone thinking she does double anal for extra cash when her book sales are down. Not that that’s bad in itself, but come on. I’d be pretty pissed as well. Especially about Planet of the Gapes 4.

4-20: High times at UC-Santa Cruz

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By Bruce B. Brugmann

Here’s the official word from University of Santa Cruz Executive Chancellor David Kilger on the kind of day that university administrations can’t stand. April 20 has become nationally known, as Kilger says in a letter today (April 17) to faculty and staff, “as the date when people gather to communally smoke marijuana in an expression of support for the reform or marijuana laws. In recent years, thousands of people have gathered on the UCSC campus to participate in the event.”

Kilgore in UCacademese says that the university does not “condone, support or otherwise sanction t his event.” To his credit, he doesn’t threaten damnation nor a flood of troopers but he does lay out some regulations Santa Cruz style. Thanks to an alert from a UCSC graduate, and roommate of a Guardian employee, we can turn up and tune in on the letter for you. Click on the continued reading link:

Billy Jam hits the Whitney Biennial

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Contributing writer and WFMU DJ Billy Jam may boast a mean Irish accent, but he’s all about stateside hip-hop. Hence, the name, I’m guessing, of his event at the Whitney Biennial Saturday, April 19. If you happen to be in the hood – or even if you just wanna listen in via Neighborhood Public Radio’s live stream – check it out: Jam will be helming the turntables along with Demerock Wallnuts from 2-6 p.m., at the Whitney Museum, 941 Madison, NYC. He promises a live jam session with DJ Alf cutting and scratching, as well as freestyle drums, keyboards, and guitar – and spoken word. Oh, yes, and there will be plenty of art – graffiti or otherwise, from both coasts – to see.

Randi Rhodes live in San Francisco

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Here is a video of Randi Rhodes doing a standup comedy routine and making remarks about Hilary Clinton that got her suspended indefinitely from the Air America radio network. She was doing an event on March 22 in San Francisco for Green960, an Air America affiliate. She is now back on Green960 weekdays from 4 to 7 p.m. on NovaM network. B3

McCain called his wife a what?

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Got an interesting letter from writer Paul Loeb today. It’s an open missive to Hillary Clinton outlining why she should remember that John McCain is the real enemy, not Barack Obama. It includes a little snipped I had somehow missed: A new book on McCain reports that he once lashed out at his wife during a campaign event and called her a “cunt.”

What a swell guy. CHeck it out:

CO2 stew

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› kimberly@sfbg.com

SONIC REDUCER It’s not easy being green, music lover. Because I’ve tried to shove my big fat cultural consumption hoof into a smaller carbon footprint, but I can’t dance around the numbers.

I’ve ponied up the green stuff for nonprofits, come correct at the composting and recycling bins, and threatened to finally get the crusty Schwinn into shape despite the near-death horror stories from bike messenger chums back in the day. But what can a music-gobbling gal do when faced with the hard if rough facts spat out by, for instance, the free online Carbon Footprint Calculator? After selecting "I often go out to places like movies, bars, and restaurants," I watched my print soar to Bigfoot proportions — thanks to my nightlife habit I supposedly generate around the US average of 11 tons of CO2 per person — rather than the mere 8.5 tons if I indulged in only "zero carbon activities, e.g. walk and cycle." Even if this out-late culcha vulcha flies on zero-emission wings to each show, I’m still feeding a machine that will prove the undoing of the planet, since the Calculator estimates that hard-partying humanoids need to reduce their CO2 production to 2 tons to combat climate change. We won’t even get into the acres of paper, publications, and CDs surrounding this red-faced, would-be greenster. I’m downloading as fast as I can, but I wonder whether my hard drive can keep up: hells, even MP3s — and the studios and servers that eke them out — add to my huge, honking footprint. Must I resign myself to daytime acoustic throw-downs within a walkable radius from my berth? Can I get a hand-crank laptop? Just how green can my music get?

Well, it does my eco good to know that a local venue like the Greek Theatre has gone green all year round: Another Planet has offset an entire season’s 113 tons of CO2 emissions; composted over two tons of cups, plates, and utensils; used recycled paper and soy-based ink on all their printed materials; and offered a $1 opt-in to ticket-buyers to offset their environmental impact. I can feel my tonnage shrinking just staring at the numbers. And while gatherings such as last year’s Treasure Island Music Festival sported zero-emission shuttles and biodiesel generators and this year’s Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival will team with Amtrak to provide a free train that will move campers from Los Angeles’ Union Station to Empire Polo Field sans smog-spewing traffic jams, artists like José González have embarked on green tours, adding 50 cents to tickets to support nonprofits. Yet such efforts might prove more consciousness-raising than anything else, González concedes: "For me, playing mostly solo and touring with a small crew, I feel like the actual cut down on emissions is marginal comparing it to major artists, so it’s more about the symbolic value of it, and the ripple effect it might bring."

Still, CO2 spendthrifts like me need a swift kick in our waste-line. Lining up to deliver are such music-fueled events as the free South Lake Tahoe Earth Day Festival April 19 and the Digital Be-In 16 April 25 at Temple nightclub, organized by the Cyberset label with an "ecocity" theme aimed at sustainable communities. Green practices, Be-In founder Michael Gosney says, "may not be huge in of themselves, but they set an example for communities to take these practices back into their own lives." One such community-oriented musician is String Cheese Incident mandolin player Michael Kang, who’ll perform at the Digital Be-In and appear with Dan Hicks and the Hot Licks at the free Green Apple Festival concert April 20 in Golden Gate Park.

Organizing seven other free outdoor Earth Day shows throughout the country on April 20 as well as assorted San Francisco shows that weekend, the Green Apple Festival is going further to educate artists and venues — the usual suspects that inspire me to make my carbon footprint that much bigger — by distributing to participating performers and clubs helpful Music Matters artist and venue riders: the former encourages artists to make composting, recycling, and offsets a requirement of performances; the latter suggesting that nightspots consider reusable stainless-steel bottles of water and donating organic, local, fair-trade and/or in-season food leftovers to local food banks or shelters.

But how green are the sounds? Musicians like Brett Dennen, who also performs at SF’s Green Apple event, may have grown up recycling and composting, but he confesses that environmentalism has never spurred him to craft a tune: "Things as big as global warming have never moved me to write about it, even though I’m doing what I can." And Rilo Kiley’s Blake Sennett, who plays April 17 at the Design Center Concourse, may describe himself as a "recycling animal — I love it! I go through trash at other people’s houses!", yet even he was unable to push the rest of the his group to make their latest CD, Under the Blacklight (Warner Bros., 2007) carbon neutral.

So maybe it comes down to supporting those leafy green rooms, forests, and grasslands we otherwise take for granted. Parks are the spark for ex–Rum Diary member Jon Fee’s Parks and Records green label in Fairfax, which wears its love of albums on its hand-printed, all-recycled-content sleeves and plans to donate a percentage of all its low-priced CD sales to arboreal-minded groups like Friends of the Urban Forest. Fee and his spouse Mimi aren’t claiming to have all the answers in terms of running a low-carbon-footprint imprint, but they are pragmatic ("In order to support bands, labels need to give them something they can sell to get gas money," Fee says) and know their love of the outdoors segues with many musicians. "You develop that camping mentality from touring," he offers. "You’re not showering, and you’re hanging out for long periods of time. Everyone loves to be outside." That’s the notion even those too cheap to buy offsets can connect with — until the weird weather is at their doorstep.

Watch what she makes

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> a&eletters@sfbg.com

Feminist art has reemerged in the past few years as the focus of major exhibitions including "WACK! Art and the Feminist Revolution" at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, and "Global Feminisms" at the Brooklyn Museum, which coincided with the unveiling of the museum’s permanent home for Judy Chicago’s iconic The Dinner Party (1974–79). On one hand, it’s inspiring to see such work resurface, especially at this political moment, when it becomes increasingly important to recall dissident factions in our country’s history. On the other hand, exhibitions such as "WACK!" can feel like regurgitations of the same old feminist art show with the same discourse, participants, and audience. It’s not enough to dust off these works and lump them under the vague and often misunderstood descriptor "feminist." To engage today’s audiences, it’s necessary to pull apart the threads, identifying what was and is at stake for these artists.

"The Way That We Rhyme: Women, Art & Politics," curated by Berin Golonu and on view at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, unites a new generation of women artists who honor their feminist predecessors while embracing new and more sly and subversive tactics. I increasingly hear women of my generation and younger vehemently disavow feminism, despite the current curatorial interest, as if there’s a stigma attached to the word. But "Way" takes feminist art out of the past and into the present.

In The Counterfeit Crochet Project (Critique of a Political Economy), Stephanie Syjuco takes aim at the luxury goods industry: the beautiful and coveted couture accoutrements that promise to make women equally beautiful and coveted, for a price. Seeking to reconcile the desire to possess such items with not wanting to invest in multinational corporations or sweatshops, Syjuco posted instructions on her Web site on how to crochet one’s own Fendi or Prada bag. Many women heeded the instructions, and their finished products are on display. The project also alludes to crochet as a traditionally devalued variety of "women’s craft." Similar knitted works appear throughout "Way," such as Lisa Anne Auerbach’s 2007 wool sweater and skirt sets, inscribed with political slogans.

Aleksandra Mir captures an unprecedented landmark in First Woman on the Moon, a 1999 video work that might be described as a "small step for a woman, a giant leap for the history of womankind." Playing off some people’s belief that Neil Armstrong’s moon landing was a hoax, Mir creates her own version of the event, wielding her camera — the instrument of news media — to insert women into history. After all, if Armstrong’s landing was — at the very least — plausible, then so is this landing. Filmed on a Dutch beach, Mir doesn’t try too hard to make the setting look authentic; in her version, the moon landing is less a colonization of outer space and more a celebration of life on Earth.

In a more somber piece, Portrait of Silvia-Elena, street artist SWOON and documentarian Tennessee Jane Watson collaborate to bring visibility to the horrifically high numbers of young women disappearing and turning up dead in Juárez, Mexico, and throughout the Americas. Some 400 women’s bodies have been recovered in Juarez, and an additional 1,000 are still recorded missing; in Guatemala, 2,000 women have been murdered. At the entrance to the installation — made to look like a dilapidated brick wall — is SWOON’s beautiful, angelic relief-print portrait of a 15-year-old victim in her quinceañera dress. The installation is also made up of photos of missing girls, as they are found plastered in Juarez, and an audiotrack of Watson’s interviews with the mothers of the disappeared.

One of the more challenging works is Beg for Your Life (2006) by Laurel Nakadate. A video artist accustomed to being looked at by men, Nakadate collapses her experience as subject and object, placing herself in front of her own camera to enact scenes with various older men — all strangers whose gaze she met on the street. In one scene, Nakadate’s back is to the camera as she seductively poses for her admirer. The man thinks he is in the subject seat, dictating his fantasies to the object of his desire, but really the camera is on him. Nakadate scores the video with 1980s pop songs, yet the content is not always amusing: some of the men’s fantasies are violent, and you wonder if the artist didn’t put herself at real risk.

The interplay between female and male subjects and objects in Nakadate’s work brings to mind one thing I might add to "Way": male artists. While I understand the rationale for creating a dedicated space for women’s art, I think in some ways it only further marginalizes women. Let’s integrate women’s political art into the larger context and invite men to participate, reminding them that feminism is — and has always been — about men too.

THE WAY THAT WE RHYME: WOMEN, ART & POLITICS

Through June 29

Tues.–Wed., Fri.–Sun., noon–5 p.m.; Thurs., noon–8 p.m.

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

701 Mission, SF

$6, $3 seniors, students, and youths; free for members (free first Tues.)

(415) 978-ARTS

www.ybca.org

Q: Will the Spray Cause Erectile Dysfunction?

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A. Not if you keep looking at porn.

Yesterday’s, er, news that men (sex, sex, sex, money, money, sports) take greater risks after viewing porn, got me wondering what will happen to the stock market when the feds start spraying female moth pheromones.

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Will the market go soft? Will everyone, drag queens included, start dressing as giant female moths?
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Will my cat start puking? And is Fodor really warning folks to stay the f*** away ?
(These latter two questions are raised in a somewhat erratic piece at the Huffington Post)

But don’t worry, Mommy, Arnie says the spray is safe.
Seriously folks, to reassure us all, the California Department of Food and Agriculture sent this transcript of the Governor speaking from Salinas.

“Hello-Today, Governor Schwarzenegger was in Salinas to continue statewide discussions on budget reform.
After his event, the local ABC station asked him about LBAM spraying. The transcript is below. Thought you may find it interesting.

ABC: Will you comment on LBAM spraying?

Governor: It’s important we do everything we can because it can destroy our agriculture products and harm our environment. Other countries can cut off our agriculture trade. Public safety is my number one priority and there is nothing that shows this program is unsafe.

ABC: Senator Migden is proposing legislation to prevent spraying before an EIR is done. Do u have a position?

Governor: We have done all the studies in the world and nothing says it is unsafe. We wouldn’t spray if it were unsafe.

ABC: You would look these people in the eye and tell them it is safe?

Governor: This is safe. The spraying is safe and there is nothing that says otherwise.

Meanwhile, folks who remain unconvinced that the spraying is safe are being urged…to catch a bus to Sacramento tomorrow, April 16.
Read on for details:

Clubs: Bootyful action at Full Figure Friday

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Party with me, plus. All photos by Joshua Rotter.

By Joshua Rotter

Going out dancing can be a confidence-buster for peeps of all sizes. But the extreme shame imposed on plus-size women often outweighs their desire to hit da club. Full-figured party promoter Lady Tigress was no different. “I was never a clubber in my twenties because I didn’t feel like I would be comfortable in a nightclub setting,” Tigress said. “I bought into what I saw on TV and thought everyone in bars or dance clubs looked like Beyonce or Britney.”

In a world where the Barbie doll reigns supreme, these notions are only reinforced by a media that has little love for big girls. Rarely on the covers of magazines, large women remain the laughing stock of hip-hop videos, the early eliminations on reality showmances, and stand-up fodder for late night television: think Jay Leno’s Jonah and the whale jokes about Lewinskygate. And Lady Tigress knows that clubland is no kinder.

“There are gorgeous plus-size women in all types of clubs all over the Bay,” Tigress said. “But even if they are confident, there is snickering that sometimes happens when a crew of big girls shows up at a mainstream club, or they are sometimes ignored because a lot of people don’t want to admit that they are attracted to women who live outside of the super-skinny American beauty standard.”

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After Tigress started going out to Bay Area BBW parties such as Big Boogie Nights, Sexy at Any Size, and Heavy Rotation in her thirties, she realized that if the event was fat-friendly, these women would come out and party. So Tigress was inspired to create an even larger night, a hip-hop party for plus-size women and their fans called Full Figure Friday, and decided to host her evening, unlike similar hotel-based events across the Bay, at the stylish San Francisco club Bambuddha Lounge.

From bar to book: Life Long Press turns backroom literary readings into published work

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By Ailene Sankur

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Valyntina Grenier is no stranger to poetry. By her undergrad senior year at U.C. Berkeley, she had already put together two chapbooks and now she’s in the second year of an M.F.A. in Poetry at St. Mary’s College of California.

She is also no stranger to bars: she works as a bartender at Lanesplitter () in Oakland. And it was her friendship with two other East Bay bartenders on which she built her Back Room Live (www.lifelongpress.blogspot.com) reading series. Most people go to bars to have mindless fun, relax, get wasted; Valyntina used them as a vehicle for “…a polyphony of voices, united by the desire to make art, enjoy language, and drink a pint or two.”

First, Sheila from the wonderful Hotsy Totsy Club in Albany let Valyntina read the poetry from her first chapbook. (Incidentally, the Hotsy Totsy Club, in a not particularly trendy East Bay neighborhood, wins the dive bar competition against San Francisco anyday.) The readings were well-received by the bar crowd. After those experiences, she toyed with the idea of doing another reading series at a bar. After befriending Tony, the bartender at McNally’s Irish Pub in Oakland, she asked if she could do a reading series there. He agreed, and after it proved successful Back Room Live became a monthly event—on the last Saturday of each month.

Valyntina, now in her M.F.A. program, decided to bring together others from the creative writing masters program — both students and faculty — as well as other Bay Area poets and authors.

Literary readings have long been thought of as the property of dim bookstores, mousy clerks shakily whispering introductions to authors, bad wine, and an intellectual elitist. With the Back Room Live series,Valyntina wanted to get away from that. She says, “My initial impetus was the sense that if you’re not in academia, and even sometimes if you are, you can feel left out of literary events. So I thought by bringing it to the bar, people would be engaged in it. Really just to broaden the community, get different genres of writers together and people together who wouldn’t necessarily go to hear writers…”

The reading series became so popular Valyntina decided to publish a Back Room Live Reading Series magazine, sold online and at Diesel Books, Book Zoo, and Pegasus (all in Oakland). The magazine is published through Valyntina’s other venture: Life Long Press Publishing.

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Randi Rhodes is back!

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By Bruce B. Brugmann

The good news today is that Randi Rhodes, the talk show host who was suspended by Air America radio network for calling Hillary Clinton A “Big F*cking Whore” at a Green960 radio event on March 22 in San Francisco, is going back on the air today (Monday) from 4 to 7 p.m. on Green960 radio.

Congratulations to John Scott, program director of Green960, for taking her back on Green960. Says Scott, “This has been a fight worth fighting. I’m thrilled we cuold be the lead station in the country to get her back.”
And congratulations to Nova M Radio Network for hiring Rhodes. Says Nova M CEO John Manzo in a press statement, “I just can’t stop smiling. Randi is simply the biggest and the best.”

Says Randi, “With Manzo at the helm of Nova M, I am truly going to work for the best of the best. He is radio elite..and I am too (laughs). I’m home. I’m home. I’m home.”

Nova M, according to the Green 960 website, “is in the business of building a progressive talk radio network with the original founders of Air America Radio.”

Welcome back, Randi. I wish you were broadcasting out of San Francisco, to give your show the San Francisco character the old Will and Willie show had, but I am damn glad to see you back. Keep on giving us lots of Randi shock and awe. (By shock and awe, I mean the intelligent and hard-nosed research she does to illuminate her radio riffs, such as the riff she did on the Naomi Klein thesis that it was shock and awe in Iraq that laid the groundwork for the U.S. privatization of Iraq. Every Randi Rhodes show has some shock and awe nuggets.)

Since Randi is a favorite of mine, and since she is an important and influential radio talk show host, I am going to lay out the details on her case as reported on the Green960 radio website. B3

Click on the continued reading link for press releases on Randi Rhodes.

China’s internet censorship: what to do?

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For those of us in the free speech and free press line of work, China’s censorship of the internet is a major practical and theoretical issue. Here is a reasoned approach by Peter Scheer, executive director of the California First Amendment Coalition (CFAC). B3

Make no mistake, China’s censorship of the internet is a crime against liberty on a mass scale. Still, American firms can’t just steer clear of the world’s biggest market. What to do?

By Peter Scheer

A milestone of sorts was passed in the first quarter of this year when China blew past the United States to become the biggest internet market in the world. At 225 million users, and still growing at double-digit rates, China’s internet is a business opportunity so grand and irresistible that it can blind normally circumspect people to the moral compromises that cooperation with Chinese government authorities inevitably entails.

I experienced this first-hand when, about a year ago, I made inquiries at the China offices of a number of American law firms to ask for help in comparing internet search results for searches performed inside China–within the “Great Firewall” of government censorship, as it is called–with the same searches performed from locations outside China (and therefore outside the firewall). The law firms demurred, explaining, with commendable candor at least, that they could not risk being observed submitting to Google and Yahoo search terms like “Tiananmen Square” or “Falun Gong”.

Mind you, these were American-trained litigators, the kind of lawyers who barely flinch in the face of a grand jury subpoena, and who spend their careers pushing back against the demands of government authorities. While usually immune to intimidation, they nonetheless feared the repercussions to themselves, their firms, and their clients from the mere act of typing a few search terms into an internet-connected computer. So seductive are the business opportunities in China that the risk of losing them transforms even hardened litigators into wimps.

In conversations with internet entrepreneurs and investors active in China, one often hears arguments that are more rationalization than logic. An internet CEO recently told me that freedom of speech is a “relative” value that, despite its appeal in western democracies, is not appropriate to China. Popular variations on this theme are that freedom of speech is an unaffordable luxury in a country that must be single-minded in its pursuit of economic development; that the people of China are more interested in consumer goods than personal and political freedom; and that westerners’ pressure on China to be more tolerant of dissent is a form of cultural imperialism.

Let’s be clear: Freedom of speech, freedom of political choice, and the rule of law are not relative values; they are absolutes. China’s regime of internet censorship is, without question, a crime against individual liberty on a truly mass scale. That it coexists with a fast-modernizing economy offering its people considerable choice in the economic sphere only makes the curtailment of personal freedom more offensive because less excusable. China does not need to suppress speech to achieve its economic goals. China’s leaders are more cynical than that. They maintain censorship solely to preempt challenges to their monopoly on political power.

This can be seen in the government’s censorship policies. Websites based inside China are subject to content restrictions that are, by design, so uncertain and unpredictable that they force internet companies to censor themselves. Standards that are unknown and unknowable, backed by the threat of license-revocation for companies and jail for individuals, create a pervasive fear that is far more effective than direct regulation at muting opposition to the government and its policies.

Websites based outside China, meanwhile, are subject to blocking by the Great Firewall based not on their content, but on their capacity to create, inside China, large, voluntary online communities that are independent of the government. These include nearly all blogging services, wikipedia and wiki platforms generally (wikileaks included), social networking websites and peer-to-peer technologies of all kinds, including photo-sharing and video-sharing businesses. In other words, the full panoply of internet 2.0 technologies.

Websites commanding vast audiences for user-generated content are seen by authorities as a grave threat. The Chinese government’s worst nightmare, after all, is a lone and anonymous Tibetan uploading to YouTube grainy cellphone videos of rioting police.

What should American internet companies do? To point out that doing business in China is morally compromising is not to say that companies must forswear the world’s biggest market–hardly a realistic option, in any event, for premier internet firms like Google, Yahoo, MSN, and Amazon. And while these companies might prefer to compete in China remotely–basing their servers outside the Great Firewall–government policies force them to set up shop inside China.

Those policies manipulate the firewall to degrade the performance of websites based outside China. Because all data from foreign websites pass through bottlenecks connecting China’s internet with the outside world, and because sensors at those bottlenecks further degrade transmissions across the firewall, non-Chinese websites are experienced from inside China as performing v-e-r-y
s-l-o-w-l-y.

This performance deficit is so substantial–and puts non-Chinese websites at such a huge disadvantage relative to their competitors inside China–that foreign websites must establish a presence inside the firewall. Indeed, Google, despite misgivings, established Google.cn within China in 2007 mainly for this reason, while Yahoo and Amazon crossed the firewall by investing in their Chinese domestic rivals.

American internet companies doing business in China should, for starters, acknowledge the extent of their self-censorship, not hide it or rationalize it or pretend that it is something other than the intensely unpleasant compromise that it is. Spare us the tortured and hypocritical justifications. It helps for companies to admit their complicity; to clarify that all is not as it should be or appears to be; to openly assert their disagreement with Chinese government policies (if they do, indeed, disagree); and to disclose specifics about how their content has been altered to avoid displeasing authorities.

U.S. firms also should do everything they reasonably can to protect their Chinese customers from the surveillance–and worse–of Chinese government authorities. If customer data and identifying information can be stored outside the firewall, beyond the reach of Chinese regulators and courts, they should be, even though that may involve greater costs. While this step does not assure protection of anonymous users (since control of a company’s license to operate in China gives the government considerable de facto leverage, quite apart from territorial limits on subpoenas and other legal processes), it is still meaningful.

If off-shoring of confidential user information is not feasible, companies must take steps to warn their customers about the risks of using their service. And finally, where warnings are not possible or go unheeded, companies should force customers to give their real names when using their websites–which will, in turn, force users to think carefully about what they say or do online. Ironically, the barring of anonymity is the surest means of getting users to appreciate the risks of saying what the government doesn’t want to hear.

Doing business on China’s internet is a messy, though potentially very lucrative, activity. Some companies may be so put off by the messiness that they stay away. For most, however, that is not a viable option. They must learn to be both honest with themselves and honest with their customers.
—-
Peter Scheer, a lawyer and journalist, is CFAC’s executive director. CFAC is involved in a legal initiative to use the World Trade Organization to force China to suspend its censorship of the internet on grounds it violates international treaties on free trade.

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Video: The great torch chase

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Video journalists Rhyen Coombs and Lisa Pickoff-White report from yesterday’s Olympic torch rally and protest on participants’ disappointment at the flame’s last minute route change:

(For pics of the protest, click here. For a video slideshow of Tuesday’s Tibet vigil, click here.)

Here’s Guardian reporter Emma Lierley’s take on yesterday’s events:

The great torch chase

The running of the Olympic torch yesterday left many hundreds of people pissed because, well, they never saw it. If you were like me, however, and came equipped with a bicycle and the wherewithal to chase the damned thing all over the city, then it became a rousing, and rather difficult, game of hide-and-go-seek.

For the majority of the crowd, that was not an option. In the hours leading up to the planned torch run, the scene along the Embarcadero was entirely peaceful. At noon, Pier 48 held rows of Chinese men and women practicing the drum rhythms that would play to honor the torch as it came past. Chinese flags fluttered in the Bay breeze, children ran and laughed, and the crowd was held back from the torch route by three layers of fencing.

Down the line, protesting blocks formed, and pro-Tibetan protesters stopped a bus at Bryant and Embarcadero around 12:30 PM. Roughly twenty people laid down in front of a charter bus, covered themselves with Tibetan flags, and covered the front of the bus with “Save Tibet” stickers. A line of four police officers guarded the bus, but once again, it was a family affair, and little kids ran around calling for a free Tibet along with the adults.

Chinese flags mingled with Tibetan flags, and each group of supporters or protestors tried to over-shout the other one, but the scene was relatively tame. The rest of Embarcadero was lined with similar crowds, some holding Chinese flags, some holding pro-Tibet signs, and some just eating their lunch, waiting for the event to start.

Back at the corner of 3rd and Embarcadero around 1:30, and I heard the angriest words of the day coming from an exasperated elderly woman who was militantly holding her spot on the corner, facing the 3rd street Bridge.

“Hey, asshole, you need to keep moving. Some of us have been here for two hours,” she said to those who tried to stop in front of her, potentially blocking her view.

Super “Scales”

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> a&eletters@sfbg.com

The words were sometimes garbled, but the body’s language was not. Les Écailles de la Mémoire (The Scales of Memory), a fiery collaboration between Senegal’s all-male Jant-Bi and Brooklyn’s Urban Bush Women, shouted, chanted, and danced about anger, pain, and love, always with an Africa-grounded sensibility.

It’s more than slightly ironic that the men of Jant-Bi are more familiar to Bay Area audiences than the all-female Urban Bush Women, who have uncovered African American cultural traditions for more than 20 years. Jant-Bi last appeared in San Francisco in 2005 with Fagalaa, a response to genocide. The Bush Women have not been seen here since 1990, when their Praise House illuminated a failed festival event.

The English title of Jant-Bi’s and Urban Bush Women’s gorgeously complex investigation of what people carry in their DNA is apt. Scales of Memory strips away the layers of hardness that have grown around racial pain. But it also measures, evaluates, and ultimately honors that reality. "I accept," the piece’s 14 dancers announce at the end.

The colonizing of Africa and the history of Africans in this country provide the base for Scales of Memory‘s complex exploration of subjugation and survival. The piece is brilliantly supported by Fabrice Bouillon-Laforet’s mixed score, which draws upon urban, natural, and musical compositions from various sources. The sounds enhanced Germaine Acogny and Jawole Willa Jo Zollar’s choreography, which is rooted in specifics but open to the world.

Scales of Memory began with the ensemble divided into small groups, each staring silently at the audience. One by one, the dancers stepped forward to shout out generations of ancestry. Though there was no overt textual narrative, the images evoked stories of communities destroyed and resurrected. The solos and ensemble dances hammered their way into our consciousness; they also drew us in with the strength — and humor — of their realization.

Both groups feature extraordinary performers who speak with an African-based dance language but use it in contemporary, individualistic ways. When the men strolled across the stage in unison, they could have stepped out of a Gene Kelly movie. But when they threw themselves into knees-to-the-sky leaps, it became clear that the ancestral ground beneath their feet was composed of clay, not concrete. The women’s big-hipped acknowledgment that they’ve got back — a Bush Women trademark — had a jazzy urban sass to it. Throughout, the dancers exuded power and self-confidence.

Nora Chipaumire, now Urban’s primary dancer, served as a bridge-building priestess figure. When she stepped forth, at first in a white ceremonial gown, she seemed to contain the levels of history and experience within Scales. But all the dancers embodied the pain of enslavement in a way that made it raw, visceral, and present. They put it on stage without any comment.

The men’s red T-shirts became gags and face-covering hoods. Seemingly exuberant male dancers became unbearable to watch once it became clear that their hands were tied behind their backs and an invisible force was beating them into dancing. The performers spread individual expressions of rage and anguish across the stage. They called up the suffering of Africa’s diaspora, then dragged themselves back into a life-giving, body-to-body circle dance similar to the one at Scales‘ beginning.

A mourner’s bench in a slave-auction scene— a seat reserved for sinners in African American church tradition — became an auction block and stirred up old shame. Chipaumire and her male partner sat on the bench and stroked their own heads. They called up body memories of the degrading examinations of physical fitness that determined a slave’s price. But the prop then transformed into one element of a gathering place. Men and women on facing benches jabbered at each other in a scene of pure comedy, one that recalls the memorable finale of Alvin Ailey’s Revelations (1960).

Strong solos balanced group sequences. Catherine Dénécy’s "I Am Who I Am" was simultaneously an attack and a celebration. The modern "Dance Hall" segment offered another form of communal celebration: women preened to comments by an off-stage male voice during its delightful opening moments. Later, a voice-over presentation of a Rumi poem was too sappy. But the ensuing dances between couples were alternately hot and heavy or tender and shy, with a feisty Chipaumire letting her partner know exactly how far he was allowed to go. Restrained or not, Scales of Memory‘s visceral heat just about melted the roof off the theater at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts.

WMC: When Push FM comes to Groove Junkies – more parties

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groovejunkies.jpg
Groove Junkies got the junk out of the trunk at Terry Thompson and Friends Presents. All photos by Robin Russell.

Maimi’s Winter Music Conference kept the beat going as contributing photographer Robin Russell stopped into both Push FM/R2 Records‘ soiree at Love Hate and the Terry Thompson and Friends Presents event at the Chelsea Hotel on Friday, March 28.

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Push FM DJ Abicah Soul manned the decks at the bash hosted by the London online radio station.

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The crowd at Push FM/R2 Records’ night.

johnjuliusknight.jpg
John “Julius” Knight made an appearance at Terry Thompson’s Baltimore/DC house throwdown.

The blind feeding the blind

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During my three decades of life, I’ve had the chance to do quite a few things wearing a blindfold — play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, whack a piñata, wait for a lover to find my clitoris – but eating has never been one of them. Until now.

blindwoman.jpg
“Waiter, I don’t know what’s in my soup.” AP photo.

I’m sure you’ve heard of this phenomenon: fancy restaurants blindfolding their patrons so they can fully focus on the subtle, complex, upper-middle-class flavors of haute cuisine. Or perhaps you’ve heard of it from dieting gurus, who profess you’ll enjoy your food more, and eat less of it, if you aren’t distracted by stimuli like television, books, or, you know, sight.

Chef5.jpg
Chef Craig Patzer prepares our meals – and probably tries not to laugh at our blindfolded shenanigans.AP Photo.

What I experienced was a version of this phenomenon crossed with the PR machine: a joint event between Jardiniere and Tazo teas where media types were blindfolded to taste entrees and alcohol pairings made with, or inspired by, Tazo blends. And it was rad.

table.jpg
“The rest of you are blindfolded too, right? This isn’t some kind of April Fool’s joke?”

lloyd dangle

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Just a note you let you know I’m doing a Troubletown event at Cody’s books on April 22. Please come, and cover it intensely in your newspaper (press release attached). 2008 is my 20th anniversary in the Guardian! Cough, cough, wheeze. Oh yes, I am a trilobite.

Your pal,
Lloyd Dangle

To China, with (tough) love.

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“If there is not alarm, if there is not protest, that too would be news, that would be San Francisco complicit,” said Sup. Chris Daly today.

Daly’s words came as he and Sups Tom Ammiano, Bevan Dufty, Jake McGoldrick, Sophie Maxwell, Ross Mirkarimi, Aaron Peskin and Geraldo Sandoval passed a resolution that condemns China’s human rights record and directs San Francisco to accept the Beijing Olympic torch, with “alarm and protest,” when it arrives April 9.

The 8-3 vote was met with applause and whoops of “Free Tibet” and came on the heels of Daly’s eloquent speech in which he highlighted China’s ongoing violations of human rights, its brutal pre-Olympic crackdown that left 140 dead in Tibet, its persecution of the Falun Gong, its suppression of democracy, as illustrated by students facing down the tanks in Tiennemen Square, and its support of genocide in Darfur and dictatorship in Burma.

“The torch is coming to our City. With it comes China’s record and the attention of the press. The eyes of the world will be watching San Francisco,” Daly said.

“Our mayor and the President of the United States share the notion that the Olympics and politics somehow need to be compartmentalized, that we should deal with them separately, but t that’s impossible with an event on this scale and this magnified ,” said Daly, as he referenced the Olympic Games of 1936, 1968, 1980 and 1984–all heavily loaded occasions

“Our history and politics are intertwined with the Olympics,” said Daly, who also referenced the “land use politics” that dogged the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta.

Voting against Daly’s resolution were Newsom allies, Sups. Michela Alioto-Pier, Carmen Chu and Sean Elsbernd.
A second resolution to welcome the Olympic torch, the Human Rights Torch and the Tibetan Freedom Torch failed.

Mayor Gavin Newsom immediately sought to undermine the importance of Daly’s resolution, telling the Chronicle that “it’s only a statement and not a law,” as the Mayor’s Office tried to upstage Daly’s victory by releasing details of the torch’s route.

But Daly remained the hero of the hour, swarmed by a crowd of paparazzi as he left the Board’s Chambers.

Acknowledging that his resolution is “highly symbolic,” Daly gave the credit to US Speaker Nancy Pelosi for bringing the world’s attention to China’s human rights’ abuses, and expressed his hope that the Board’s vote, coupled with Pelosi’s actions and statements, andother protests along the way, “can lead to greater change.”

The April 9 torch relay start 1 p.m with an opening ceremony at McCovey Cove. The torch will then travel along 3rd Street from McCovey Cove to the Embarcadero and past Fisherman’s Wharf to Jefferson Street.
From Jefferson, the torch will turn left on Hyde Street and travel a short distance to Beach Street, then to Polk Street near Aquatic Park.
The torch will head up Polk to Bay Street, then back to the Embarcadero and the Ferry Building at Justin Herman Plaza, where an area is designated for protesters.Protesters will also be allowed in Union Square, Portsmouth Square, Civic Center and Washington Square.

But city officials also say that groups won’t need a permit and and that they are expecting more protesters along the torch’s relay route than in the designated “free speech” areas.

Edging toward the edge

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› a&eletters@sfbg.com

A title like Tragedy: a tragedy has, you might think, promises to keep. But what exactly are they? The repetition already flags, and flogs the futility in the gesture, announcing amusingly this post-tragic age. Instead, a sardonic scene suggests itself, nothing summing up the post-tragic like the daily litany of tragic stories on the news. And still, according to New York playwright Will Eno, whose previous works include 2004’s Thom Pain (based on nothing), tragedy will out, even in the tragedy business.

Scattered over the Thrust Stage at the Berkeley Rep, where Tragedy is enjoying its sharp American premiere, stand three garrulous TV reporters. In one granite-lined corner is legal expert Michael (Max Gordon Moore); in another, home front correspondent Constance (Marguerite Stimpson) perches, just as dependably, in front of a home; and out on a jutting bit of lawn in the enveloping night is John in the Field (Thomas Jay Ryan). The three are arrayed, out on location, around the central and imposing studio-lighted, half-circle desk of anchorman Frank (a quietly impressive David Cromwell, looking and presenting very much the part of a slowly crumbling John Chancellor). One unnamed Witness (Danny Wolohan) stands by, in street clothes with a knapsack slung snug over both shoulders, more or less mute until nearly the end of the 70-minute single act.

As the scene unfolds, it’s clear this is a special news day, in fact one long day’s journey into perpetual night. The sun is missing — overdue or something — and apparently not coming back. It’s the kind of catastrophic event unfolding in real-time that musters all the energies, ego, and élan of the news professionals. It’s what they train for: the unending crisis that calls for unending comment, a filibustering of fate.

A substitute family, a set of everyday heroes, a security blanket of authoritative remarks and assurances — god knows just what we see in them. Weighing in with weightless commentary and heavy-handed air, the reporters pass the feed, the buck, the potato, and the cliché as the earth settles into darkness.

"Is the sense of tragedy palpable?" asks our anchor. "Absolutely, Frank," a reporter assures him. "You can feel it!" Constance, in charge of empathy, dutifully sympathizes in all directions, sometimes in phrases so convoluted and meandering they are all but incomprehensible, and further undermined by her own invading guilty preoccupations. Michael, erect and rapid-fire, relays the governor’s increasingly inept and despairing statements ("Let the looting begin!"). Meantime, adds John in the Field, the neighborhood dogs are doing what they, in the face of overwhelming tragedy, can be counted on to do, including "making their tags and collars jingle."

If improvising reporters have a knack for somehow coining clichés, Eno’s generally inspired dialogue succeeds partly by trading hilariously on just this cursed gift. But the barrage of verbiage, the real blanket of night over us all, slowly unravels as the play moves through its short, sure arc toward a somewhat predictable but nevertheless gently moving anticlimax. Sputtering empty phrases, our reporters begin steadily edging toward the edge (to coin a representative phrase), teetering over into the void on the precipice of some personal point of view, some secret feeling, impression or memory; something actually felt, if not fully understood.

As the reporters spend themselves over the course of an hour like guttering candles, all but flickering out by the end, our Witness finds his voice. Angling fairly nimbly past one or two well-worn conceits, Eno’s play reaches a not-unsatisfying end in a little night-blooming flower of an image, no more than a precise rendering of a mundane detail. Nothing really, but more than enough to awaken a sense of evanescence. And it’s that gentle pinprick that lets the blood flow at last.

If playwright Eno began Tragedy: a tragedy in 1999, as the program indicates, it surely picked up some thematic momentum after 2001, when principal televised upheaval gave way to an unending worldwide war against terror — just the kind of tragedy (in capital letters) that serves all the better to lull those on the home front into a dull, deflated night of everyday horrors. But Eno’s very funny play — featuring an enjoyable, expert ensemble and deftly directed by Les Waters — is no political tract. It instead remains, like his babbling newscasters, precisely vague about everything — all the better in the play’s case to sneak up on the sensation and insight hiding behind the minutely, fleetingly particular. Maybe tragedy, it suggests, is already tautology, since we’re born into it, and every peaceful little moment that brushes us so lovingly also whispers demise.

TRAGEDY: A TRAGEDY

Through April 13

Wed.and Sun., 7 p.m. (also Sun, 2 p.m.)

Tues. and Thurs.–Sat., 8 p.m. (also Sat., 2 p.m.), $13.50–$69

Berkeley Repertory Theatre

Thrust Stage

2025 Addison, Berk.

(510) 647-2949, www.berkleyrep.org

Stop the Cow Palace land grab

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EDITORIAL Technically, the Cow Palace isn’t in San Francisco, but it’s part of the larger city’s history. It was the site of two historic political conventions, a string of historic concerts, and lots of less memorable smaller events. It’s home to the Grand National Rodeo. For a lot of people who care about links to the city’s past, it’s a treasure. For the half-million or so folks who pass through the doors every year, and the dozens of promoters who use the cavernous hall for expositions, shows, and performances that don’t fit anywhere else, it’s an invaluable part of the local cultural scene.

For people who worry about earthquakes and catastrophes, it has immense appeal — the place could serve as a gigantic shelter, with beds, showers, a huge parking lot for staging, and room to land helicopters in the event of a disaster.

To real estate developers, it’s a potential gold mine. And to Daly City, where the Cow Palace sits, it’s an opportunity to create a huge new complex of condos and retail stores that would bring in millions in new taxes.

So when state Sen. Leland Yee introduced a bill that would force the state to declare the Cow Palace surplus property and sell it to Daly City, the battle lines were drawn. A front-page story in the San Francisco Chronicle suggested that the venerable place could be razed for redevelopment. Supporters have come forward to talk about its role in the community and its value as a venue. The Daly City manager, Pat Martel, argued that the place gives her city nothing whatsoever in terms of taxes and hosts some events — like a gun show and the Exotic Erotic Ball — that her constituents find offensive.

What’s missing from most of this debate is the fact that this is 68 acres of prime real estate that’s still publicly owned. Declaring it surplus would almost certainly lead to the privatization of an immense block of potentially priceless urban land.

Yee’s bill, SB 1527, is just the latest chapter in a battle over the Cow Palace that goes back several years. The board that oversees the facility, which reports to the state Department of Agriculture, has been negotiating with Daly City to lease 13 acres of parking lot and underused land for development. That would allow the city to build some new housing, seek a supermarket that the neighborhood badly needs, and add to the local tax base. But the talks have stalled — and after Daly City hired powerhouse lobbyist and former assemblymember Bill Duplissea to take the case to the Legislature, and Daly City’s council asked for help, Yee stepped up.

SB 1527 mandates that the state sell the property to Daly City, with the proceeds going to pay off some of the debt the state incurred through the governor’s misguided deficit-recovery bonds. Yee argues that the state needs the money in this brutal year to save public education, and we understand how powerful that message can be — but selling off public land to cover budget shortfalls is almost always a terrible idea.

There’s little doubt what the endgame is here: Daly City doesn’t have the cash to buy 68 acres that will be worth hundreds of millions of dollars at fair market value. All the small municipality will be is a conduit — the land will be quickly flipped and sold (or leased for very long terms) to private developers.

The Yee bill is designated an "urgency measure," which means it could be approved as early as April. That’s ridiculous; there is no urgency here. This is a huge decision, and needs a lot more public discussion and debate.

We suspect that there’s a way to meet Daly City’s needs for development without turning over the entire 68 acres. There’s almost certainly a way for the Cow Palace to remain and for some of its land to be used for housing and retail.

But we haven’t even seen a template for what sort of project would go on the site. How much of the housing would be affordable? How much of the retail would serve the community? Would this become another chain-store-and-luxury-condo site with gated homes in an economically depressed area? What will the San Francisco neighborhoods that border on the site get out of it? Will there be any new parkland or open space? How will a large commercial complex there affect traffic, noise, pollution, displacement, and other environmental factors in the surrounding areas?

How on earth can you talk about selling off such a huge chunk of public land without even talking about how it will be used?

This is nuts. Yee’s bill needs to be defeated, and all the parties (including the San Francisco city planners and supervisors) need to start cautious, long-term discussions about the Cow Palace, its land, and the needs of the public. Otherwise this will appear — with justification — to be nothing but a sellout of gargantuan proportions.

Improv Everywhere: The Musical

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Now this is a mission after my own heart…

Members of the New York-based performance group Improv Everywhere planned a “spontaneous” musical-style song-and-dance number to be held in a food court in a Los Angeles mall. (These are the same folks responsible for Frozen Grand Central and the annual No Pants event.)

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