Getting to know the NASS, while prepping to say goodbye.

I've been digging into agricultural stats recently. Because I know how to party. Under the auspices of such raging, I found something that disturbs me. As with too many things, this change is due to short-sighted budgetary politics. As such, I'm sure no one in this Congress is going to do anything to fix it.

Since as far back as 1863, the U.S. Department of Agriculture has tracked and estimated production numbers for a wide array of agribusinesses. Basically, the USDA surveys the amount of crops and animals raised in the U.S. I'll imperfectly compare this tradition of gathering and reporting stats with the way the NCAA supposedly tracks and governs a whole wide world of sports. Even though everyone focuses on football and basketball because they generate the overwhelming majority of cash. When it comes to what's produced by agribusinesses in the U.S., cows and corn are essentially football and basketball. But don't forget about goats, sheep, honey, mink, catfish - the list of agribusinesses surveyed in the U.S. is diverse, fascinating and occasionally controversial. These categories may provide the anecdotal equivalents of baseball, soccer, gymnastics, fencing, crew and any other redheaded stepchildren sports still kept under the watchful eye of the NCAA. They'll never get the same exposure or impact, but what if no one bothered watching out for them at all? I'd apply that same question for those agribusinesses that will no longer be covered by these annual inventories. Which begs the larger question - what's the cost savings of eliminating all these statistical measures used to estimate what's produced in the U.S.? A massively underwhelming $11M buckaroos, annually. Even though the folks that do this work - the National Agriculture Statistics Survey - hail from the sort of agency even good ol' boys like Rick Perry would probably deem worthy of saving.

I expect no champions to arise in praise of this USDA program. Which is a pretty sad state of affairs for a nation built on farms that certainly didn't just raise cows or corn. Maybe we are so fully diluted and withdrawn from the nation's agricultural roots that we no longer care about what those still in the business of raising things actually do. Still, we're willing to just quit tracking what happens in these and so many other categories of American endeavor for a measly $11M? Lame.

Keeping an eye on China's "hooligan" artists

One probably inevitable takeaway from my recent trip to China is the desire to know how artists there deal with censorship. Keeping tabs on that could become a full time job. I'm sure there are many, many others doing a much better job at it than I ever could. But as a casual observer with a newly calibrated radar when it comes to China, I'm fascinated by two stories. One ongoing, one recently brought to my attention. Both showed up in the NYTimes yesterday. The ongoing and quite famous one is the struggle of Ai Weiwei - the larger than life multiform artist who's bearing the brunt of the Chinese government's crackdown on expression that runs afoul of their official interests. Weiwei's been jailed, his studios have been raided, and now he's facing a massive tax penalty meant to scare him. Or much worse. The latest update for Weiwei showed how the public is stepping up - often anonymously - to help him pay the $2.4M tax bill that was plopped on him after being released from a murky, intimidating stint in jail. New developments seem to come every day with regard to Weiwei's plight. Reporting on him is a cottage industry for journalists and activists world wide. But the other piece on yesterday's front page really peeled back the layers on what writers confront when they try to write original work in China. If you're even slightly interested in the massive expansion of publishing in China, this piece is an introduction with more context than I've seen on this subject. The writer Murong Xuecun sounds like a old school Beat writer with huge, ultra-modern exposure. He's swimming against a current that we can't even imagine here. Utterly amazing reporting. A must read for anyone who ever hopes to sell a single copy of any book in China. Myself included.

Looking at DRCs

I know this post's title is vague. At best. So please excuse me for going a bit "meta" in my introduction of what it means and why I bring it up.

I've not been operating here specifically as a "book blogger". That's a category of reviewer who is increasingly important to the reading and writing communities found via the web. That's not been my gig, although I've offered plenty of reviews elsewhere in the past. But I'm now modifying my plans to include reviewing "digital review copies" (DRCs) of new books. DRCs are advance copies, generally meant for reading months in advance of a book's upcoming release. DRCs aren't exactly lying around out there in the ether - I need to request access and do so with a purpose. Basically, this is how booksellers and certain enterprising bloggers keep an eye out for books they then read and - waa-lah! - review for smartypants readers such as you. Maybe before they're even out there in the bookstores. The rub being that I'm assuming bloggers need an established record of doing so to get access to these DRCs. A bit of a Catch-22, I would be say. Cyclical enough for you? Don't worry - my work on that front's all done now. Like one of those surreptitious immunization shots I imagine doctors gave back in the day when they rarely even put down their cigarettes in the exam office. Now everything's so carefully proscribed and above board. It probably hurts the kid more to know what's coming. But that's a thought to belabor another day.

Check back for book reviews on things that are new and interesting. I'll always identify them as such. I've even got my first request in. Expect things generally related to "Pelting Out" and what I'm writing there. Whatever that may be. Wink wink.

Trying to get through the lobby

If I got called on for one question of Herman Cain, he'd be psyched. Because it wouldn't be anything like what's getting thrown his way currently. My question would be one that would require no evasion and I suspect the answer would be interesting to people across the political spectrum. I'd ask about something that relates directly to his background, yet it also deals with an issue I'm beginning to wrassle. Here goes - what does a lobbyist actually do? I realize that makes me sound like I'm in elementary school. But it is for me an essential logic puzzle that just doesn't get asked enough. After all, I think one of the most misused and misunderstood terms in modern American life is "lobbying". So the idea of a "lobbyist" - whether for restaurants or agribusiness or toxic waste disposal - is the sort of Rorschach test definition that I'd love to hear offered. By Mr. Cain or any professional who did or does the job. Because the layers of that onion don't come off cleanly or in a manner that makes much sense. For example, say a particular concern pays you (the lobbyist) some money (such as $40K in 2010). It's assumed you do something for them. Obviously. Whatever that something might be, you (still lobbying) then do more work for them (now let's say $20K in 2011). Easy peasy. Except...who measures what and how? Once again, really basic stuff. I'm sure the Herminator could help me out there. Or maybe someone less, um, exposed at the moment. Whatever the angle through the lobby, my door is always open.

Where the Wild Things aren't always that wild

One of the typical sights on my early morning runs around Seattle is that of urban raccoons. These city critters are nothing like the truly wild cousins I grew up seeing on our farm. There we knew raccoons brought with them distemper and other pesky ailments that often enough made the infectious leap over to other animals. When they were infected, they could be nasty. Otherwise, they'd generally disappear like smoke. The city version of this critter is an altogether evolved version of nuisance. Half the time I expect them to be wearing a headlamp and/or carrying cutlery. At least they also usually scamper off when I happen upon them. I couldn't help but notice an attitude shift in two of these masked bandits in a face to face to face bit of randomness earlier this morning. These suckers wouldn't budge when I clomped on by. They even seemed to weigh and measure me. The only thing missing was one of them stroking his or her chin devilishly. A frozen frame reaction surely isn't unheard of when it comes to such encounters. Not like this, though. These winter-fattened and fully-wooly varmits stood their ground. Maybe they were suffering from a sort of diabetic coma due to the discarded bushels of Halloween candy I imagine they're rooting around in. Or maybe they've taken to heart yet another "La Nina" year weather forecast for the Northwest. If so, they've got wetter, wilier issues to worry about than some dood running by more focused upon his iPod than any intention of harming them. Still, is it wrong to wish these nasty ringtails were at least a little more country and a little less rock 'n roll? Sorry, Donny and Marie - just trying to make something of a convoluted point here.

Digging into something entirely different

I've stepped momentarily aside from the issues of the past month (researching militant activism) and questions about where that leads or doesn't (the sharply double-edged sword of those involved seeking media coverage). Call it a breather or a chance to shun the blinders I've slipped on. More, totally new freakshows lie ahead - such as trying to get someone from a certain controversial Midwestern Governor's office to lower the drawbridge for me to cross. But those are other stories for other days. However, this moment's lovely not-at-all left field distraction is a new book that arrived today. Not my typical fare, but something I'm nonetheless using as an introduction to days of yore. Exploring Fort Vancouver (edited by Douglas C. Wilson and Theresa E. Langford) gives an introduction to what was the biggest West Coast outpost in the early 19th Century. Credit that toehold somewhat to the old Hudson's Bay Company. As this book lays it down, site specific history is much more complex than just quoting dates and names. Plus it's just a lovely little book. I haven't yet ventured to the actual National Historic Site in what is now Vancouver, Washington. I will someday soon. Until then, this book is a glossy time capsule escape. Along with being a reminder of the loving work too often ignored but still being done by archaeologists and historians. Highly recommended.

Still rolling with this thought

At the risk of sounding totally random and confusing to those tenuously paying attention to what's going on here, a little vignette's been playing over and over again in my brain for nearly a week. It involves how I almost lost my wedding ring last week in a grocery store parking lot in western Iowa. Yup - the sucker flew off my cold ring finger and went flying as I grabbed for the door handle on my rental car.  Aside from the memorably odd physicality encapsulated in that moment - fumbling around on the ground trying to tease out how far the ring had flown given the sounds it made once it hit the pavement - a powerful metaphor is still just out of my grasp. Somewhere in this is the lesson of how a trip with one focused purpose can instead become another altogether different preoccupation. Maybe the point is how I drove around Iowa looking for one thing and ended up thinking about something related but altogether different. I'm really glad I found my ring. Now I can talk about it with a joke and a colorful vignette. Still, what if I'd left this meaningful piece of me behind there? Could I ever think of Sioux City as just another flyover spot on the American map? And what about others who lose something in just such a random place, with equal (or greater) unintended impact? Obviously, some thoughts roll on to points still unforeseen. I'll let y'all know when I figure out where it comes to rest.