Christmas Assault



 e88fig1
Austin Dispatches
 No. 88
 Dec. 23, 2005

The stockings have been placed
By the heater over there,
And the superficial pleasantries have been uttered,
As if the recipients really care.
So before you count your blessings,
Thinking you’re rich,
Lubricate your eyes:
I’ve got an extended bitch.1 

This seasonal “real” issue, as opposed to the “G-rated” issue,  isn’t quite what I had in mind. Up until about a month ago, the drafts combined the mirth of Russian literature2 with the optimism of the Rust Belt.3  This wasn’t just the usual snarky attitude. When I wrote the introductory paragraphs – i.e., what you’re reading now, and what I often include to give an issue a semblance of unity and theme – I sounded like some labor agitator from the Great Depression.  For the first time, I even wrote about the really grim Christmases I and my family have endured over the generations: stories of deprivation and hard luck, of grinding poverty and grinding teeth. These stories defiantly challenge the very notion that a positive holiday spirit exists. Even Abel Ferrara would blanch at them.4 

I wasn’t looking to establish a new nadir. You think reading about all this is tiresome? Try living it. I want move ahead and flourish in my life, which has not been happening much this year. The bad’s outweighed the good. On the warmest days I can shiver considering the possibility that my 35th birthday was the apex of my existence, and it’s all gonna be a slow, grim slide into a shit-lined grave from here on.

e88fig2 However, that’s not quite what you’re going to read about this time. But the aluminum lining I describe herein still frames big, black clouds advancing from the horizon like a Colombian death squad.5  So, if you suffer from clinical depression, read no further.

What? You’re still here? OK, but I warned you.

I'm now contracting at Neutron Technologies. This expands my skill set into semiconductors – specifically, device edge wafer processing.

Working at Neutron (a subsidiary of Zaibatsu Mfg. Co. Ltd.) also provided extra irony on Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day,6  as I drove home in my Honda, and, once inside my apartment, turned on my Sony computer and stereo system. Actually, most of the people I work with daily are Northeastern transplants.7 

However, I haven't been yet able to properly enjoy my new job, partly because creditors, medical professionals, auto technicians, insurance companies and the like have already crowded around, palms outstretched.

Also, months ago, I openly told the three of the four interviewers who showed up for my interview that I had no semiconductor experience. My agent was skeptical that I had a chance, before and after the interview, and questioned my motives for seeking this job. Two days before Thanksgiving, the agent called and said Neutron decided they needed a third tech writer. I signed the paperwork and started the next Monday, a week and a half behind the other two. So the lead tech writer has already established the documentation structure and the style, at least when it isn't being revised or ignored by the engineers and managers.
 
We tech writers were assigned to a single room. For us all to fit, we had to dismantle a generic desk of the sort purchased from national-chain big-box office-supply retailers. They couldn't take this thing apart with crowbars and screwdrivers. (I stood aside, figuring that if I couldn't figure out how to dismantle this desk, I had no business trying, and should leave it to professionals. Plus, this wasn't specified in my contract. So I handled exposition for the women in the office who stopped by to find out the source of the noises and stayed to flirt with me.) Eventually, my colleagues had to unscrew the bottom sides and let the desk collapse on itself, gouging the walls in the process. Then we carried the heavy pieces out and dumped them by the loading dock. There were no repercussions.
 
We spent the rest of the week tracking down the cause of file problems with Adobe FrameMaker 7.2, and contending with network glitches.  We’re still battling network glitches.
 
That Wednesday, we got called on the carpet from our supervisor, because of the behavior of the second tech writer, an Indian who's been dozing off on the job and also showing up for work an hour earlier than the company wants (7 a.m. vs. 8). About an hour later, I was straining to complete a section of the installation manual. I got an impromptu meeting with someone who can explain the system's calibration line. I sounded like an idiot, because I had to admit I was unfamiliar with what he was talking about (which is why I met with him in the first place). Worse, this was the fourth man – the interviewer who didn't show up. He obviously wondered why I was hired in the first place.

That was the end of the workday.
 
I planned to leave along Interstate 35 to reach the bank branch most conveniently located for my evening commute home, to deposit my last unemployment check. At least, I think it's my last for a while. I turned onto the frontage road too late to learn that southbound traffic was backed up because of at least one wreck at the intersection I needed clear to make clean, right-hand turns all the way. Traffic crept along. Nevertheless, some guy with a ponytail, driving a Mustang convertible, managed to sharply cut in front of me. I arrive at the bank branch, some eight miles away, after an hour.
 
The teller immediately asked me if I'd like a mortgage loan.

I replied before she finished her question. No, I'm just making a deposit. "Talk to me about it after the housing bubble bursts." The employees gamely agreed.
 
Further wrecks caused further delays. I drove home, four miles away, in 15 minutes.
 
At the apartment complex mailboxes, a neighbor's chihuahua attacked me. "Call this fucking thing off, will you?" I demanded. She yanked on the dog's leash and slunk away, eyes averted.
 
At this point, I was too fried to consider dancing at The Copa. In my mail was a large bill.

Someone knocked at the door. Some black kid was outside, speaking in the thickest Ebonics I've heard since Eddie Murphy was on "Saturday Night Live."8  I entered into a defensive mode and glanced around warily, suspecting the kid was the set-up to a home invasion.9 
 
My concerns allayed, I asked the kid the repeat himself. I still couldn't understand a fucking thing he was saying.

Finally, I guessed. "I'm sorry, I don't have any money."

He mumbled something, shrugged, and shuffled to the next apartment, while I shut the door.10 
 
Last week, I lost five billable hours because of the freezing rain that hit Central Texas with record low temperatures on Dec. 7 and caused about 850 wrecks by 2 p.m. the next day. Neutron closed early and reopened late on the 8th. The maintenance crew blocked off the backstairs of my apartment building with yellow police tape. As I inched along the icy FM1325 on the way to work, I counted 10 vehicles, most new luxury models, that’d careened into the adjoining ditches.

Hmmm. Maybe Miss KT was right. Maybe I do have angst.

Schadenfreude

I learned at the November STC meeting that a longtime manager at Dell, whom I never liked, was among those laid off in October. She must’ve made some powerful enemies further up the corporate hierarchy, besides the subordinates she abused. Couldn’t happen to a more deserving person.

Meanwhile, in Aggieland, campus police arrested a Texas A&M student for pitching a shovelful of horse shit at the UT Austin’s marching band at a football match on Nov. 25.11  Yee-hah. The kid’s got a great future in politics or music criticism.

And speaking of shitty politics, Robert “Rock” Howard is TCLP chairman no more. The long local nightmare is over.

He just resigned to run for an open state Senate seat next year.12  He stumbled, bumbled and fumbled away the gains of the last six years – including his own previous term as chairman from 1998-2000 – in 20 months.

The rest of us grumbled. “The rest of us” includes about half the TCLP executive committee, the state executive director, the state chairman, at least one member of the national LP executive committee, and every Jew in the TCLP, whom Howard seems to have a knack for antagonizing. For example, I witnessed Howard’s self-humiliation at the TCLP monthly business meeting on Oct. 5, 2004. Howard was argumentative, defensive and self-pitying, and that was just in his chairman’s report at the meeting’s start. He managed to antagonize his supporters from the podium, quibbling about efforts to stop the latest mass transit boondoggle. Finally, the state chairman upbraided him for his conduct.
 
If every local Libertarian Howard condescended to shows up for the nominating convention, he’ll lose in a landslide. He’ll be lucky if his wife votes for him. 

Then, at the Dec. 20 special convention to elect his successor, Howard actually mused aloud – several times – about running for state Senate – as a Republican – and thene88fig3 running for re-election as a Libertarian. Howard said this at the same table as the state party chairman and state party executive director, and a Republican running for Travis County clerk. I couldn’t suppress a smirk. I always knew he wasn’t as smart as he thinks he is, but this officially makes Howard the dumbest Libertarian I’ve ever met.

Moreover, Howard thinks of himself as a “left libertarian,” which is really just a pretentious label for Boomers who've grudgingly concluded their taxes are too high, but still go into conniptions at the thought they might be turning into their parents.13  Ironically, this ilk’s views are actually much closer than they'd like to admit to those of country club Republicans, the people who actually control the GOP almost all the time,14 and what’s more, the sort of people who prompted me to switch my political affiliation to Libertarian in the early years of post-Reagan America.15 

If he fits in with the Republican leadership, it’s because he accepts the basic premises of the establishment politicians, even when he’s not trying to seek acceptance from them. He’s never dismissed them the way he has his “fellow” Libertarians. To him, libertarianism is just a “flavor of public policy soda.”16  He distinguishes himself from both groups by his stronger technocratic bent – a love of complexity for its opportunities for him to tinker, like the engineer he is; and his overt atheism, to the extent that he dutifully attends a local gathering of the godless every Sunday morning. If the naïve statist thinks Hell is a good system run by bad men, Howard thinks it could be improved by deploying the right quadratic equations.

Such a mindset indicates a lack of street smarts. In turn, that means if he does squeak into office, he’ll get snookered by the other legislators at watering holes like The Scholz Garden, where the real legislative business gets done.17

Rock Howard: Bad for liberty, bad for Texas.

Further along, the last two locals on my shit list have shown strong tendencies to socially self-destruct. Soon I may attain the approximate state of Michael Corleone at the end of “The Godfather, Part II,” only without the guilt or regret.18

On the Town

e88fig4 Nov. 17: My landlord hosted a Resident Happy Hour at Johnny Carino’s in the Tech Ridge Shopping Center. I stuffed myself with free appetizers. Then I drove downtown and finally visited Club Vicci, a new nightspot featuring salsa on Thursdays. The interior décor put me in mind of a small New York club from the ‘70s, trying to be swanky and trendy but coming across garish and pretentious.19  Well, Vicci is located in the same space as the former Polly Esther’s.20 

I thought about trying to chat up the few but attractive women in the club with a concatenation of inane lingo spouted by Boomers back then in their desperate attempts to fuck (“What’s your sign?”), but I wasn’t sure if my target audience would get the joke.21  Of course, the music, some of it from salsa’s ‘70s heyday, was good, and the décor complemented that music and amused me, so Vicci passed muster despite boosting my snark levels.22 

Nov. 18: The Sun Ra (Memorial) Arkestra played a return engagement in Austin, about five-and-half years since I last saw them.  The show, part of the Nu Roots Music Festival, was billed as a tribute to the late Martin Banks, a former band member.23  Unfortunately, the Arkestra played at Ruta Maya. My gripe is not with the band, which played well. Rather, my beef is with Cosmic Intuition Productions and Ruta Maya. The promoters somehow cadged money from the city coffers for the festival. Normally, the arts presentations I’ve attended at Ruta Maya have been competently run. As proof that nothing good can come from government assistance, the support staff spent the evening sloughing off. The Arkestra actually had to squawk from the stage about the defective sound system before the support staff finally fixed it. Also, the festival ran behind schedule, and the opening acts were mediocre at best. The promoters must think Outer Spaceways Inc. functions by c.p.t.24   I was frequently rolling my eyes and glancing at my watch. Even in the furthest reaches of the cosmos, time is money.

Thanksgiving: In the morning, I played for the first time at the Butler Park Pitch and Putt Golf Course, tucked between Riverside Drive and Barton Springs Road at 201 Lee Barton Dr.25  I got lucky. It’s a private course on city land, and the proprietress let me play for free. She was locking up the office when I arrived. She graciously waived the $6 fee, because the flags were down. The family that runs the course decided to close for the first time in 55 years, to celebrate Thanksgiving.

On the wintry brown course, I was underprepared, flubbed shots, and still obtained my best score ever. So I really did have something to be thankful for.


e88fig5


Nov. 26: At The Copa, I learned some improved dance moves from a salsa instructor visiting from … McAllen? Later, a gaggle of women celebrating a friend’s 40th birthday swept into the club. While dancing, one of them told me they’d rented a limo and come down from Lago Vista. At least, I think that’s what she said. It was hard to hear her over the music, which in turn was hard to hear over the group’s collective shrieks. I’ve been to Lago Vista and there’s no way for a limo to turn around there.

Dec. 3: Attractive Jack Daniels representatives were flirtatiously applying Old No. 7 Black Label brand stickers, with a small, microchip-powered, rapidly blinking red light, to The Copa’s customers. I wondered what would happen if the police stopped someone still wearing this while driving home. I didn’t have the heart to question the representatives, who were as memorably packaged and designed as the whiskey’s bottle, about the distiller’s move to dilute Black Label’s alcohol content.26 

The turnout at the club was sparse. Some salseros speculated everyone was at The Diamond Ballroom instead. I drove there and found it wasn’t so. There, attendance was down noticeably from the last time I visited, which in turn was down from the grand opening.  I’ve soured on the place because the atmosphere is chilly, the sound echoing and distorted, and the other dancers already paired off for the evening. I think it’s the kind of ballroom you take your date to dance, rather than going dancing and hoping you’ll meet someone. As for me, I don’t want to pay $10 at the door to stand around and watch other people have a good time.

Dec. 10: At a Dollar General in the afternoon, the checkout clerk looked beyond me into the aisles. “He’s back in the store,” he told a co-worker. “Throw his ass out of here.”

The young co-worker brought back a skinny, older white guy in a black winter vest, goatee and trucker cap, whom the Mexican employees said they’ve caught shoplifting before.

“Get your fucking hands off me.” The white guy confronted the checkout clerk. “Yo, fuck you, motherfucker.”

“Bring it on. You’re fucking with an ex-Marine.”

The white guy shifted his stance forward. “You go ahead. Touch me.”

“No, you take the first swing. I’m an ex-Marine. I’ll fuck you up.”

I enjoyed the altercation, but I also wanted to complete my purchase. Eventually the white guy left in a huff and defused the situation.

Dec. 17: At the Neutron Christmas party at Iron Cactus North, I nursed a single cocktail and, behind my golf talk, carefully observed my co-workers’ behavior as the night wore on. Then I drove to The Copa for the Salsa Extravaganza. I might’ve had a good time dancing, too, if the women hadn’t been so busy taking pictures of each other.

Cultural Canapés

“Syriana” is a good film, but I wonder why the filmmakers bothered to claim it was based on Robert Baer’s memoir of his years as a Central Intelligence agent. I happened to read it a couple of months ago and there’s barely anything on the pages that made it to the screen.27 

Elsewhere in cinema, “Ashes and Diamonds,” one of the bleakest, most depressing films ever made – a 1958 Polish production set the day after World War II ended in Europe – has been released on DVD. Fun holiday viewing for the whole family.28  I saw it my senior year in high school – at high school, which should give you some inkling of my youth.

The world’s media torrent affronted my sensibilities for about a week with nostalgia about some dead British pop star.29  I wrote most of what I cared to about this five years ago.  I don’t see the need to piss on his grave twice. Even though, in a more robust civilization, he’d have been blacklisted from our country, and generally denied a record contract or a gig. I will note, however, that among the offenders, the Chronicle also published an article on the Puerto Rican Folkloric Dance’s musical, which commemorates the attempted 1797 British invasion of Puerto Rico and its successful repulse by 20,000 machete-wielding islanders.30  That’s a damn sight better than the Irish ever managed. What kind of ethny takes 800 years to expel the most effete, feckless invaders in history?31  Of course, if the British had arrived at the sunny isle with spray paint and welfare checks, things might’ve turned out differently.32 

Austin Death Watch

e88fig6 Austin Energy is hiking its electric bills on New Year’s Day.33

Austin is prosecuting Mickey’s Thirsty Lounge for allowing patrons to smoke, in violation of the new ban.34  Heretofore, I’ve avoided the place as a country-fried shack. But now it’s a civic duty to drink there. As a bonus, the bar is next to a fine burger joint.

A squirrel knocked out power to 14,000 residents of Southwest Austin on Dec. 9. In other words, some animal deemed cute, and practically deified by environmentalists, managed to inconvenience and potentially threaten the lives of 14,000 humans. The lesson is clear: Get them before they get you.35 

The crack-up of Austin’s ruling coalition continues.  The municipal transit agency, Capital Metro, has hired an avowed union-busting lawyer from Houston to handle the dragged-out labor contract negotiations with Amalgamated Transit Union 1091. In turn, the president says the local will no longer support future municipal rail initiatives. Chronicle reporter Michael King summarized the real issue best:
This town is up to its armpits in so-called "liberals" who support progressive causes in direct proportion to their distance from Austin Ground Zero. Nowhere is that more apparent than in union battles. Local progs love to give lip-service to worker-related causes, but remain largely uninterested in (or hostile to) actual, union-organized working people unless they're picking grapes in California or tomatoes in Florida.36

Meanwhile, black councilman Danny Thomas is challenging honky incumbent Will Wynn for the mayor’s seat next spring.37  There’s no good civic outcome to this. If Wynn wins re-election, black resentment intensifies. If Thomas wins, preening, busybody whites will flee from latte socialist neighborhoods like Travis Heights to Williamson and Hays counties, because people like that don’t really trust blacks to run anything, except into the ground. Either way, Austinites are stuck with a mayor who thinks the solution to the city’s problems is some combination of unsustainable development and sustainable poverty. Only the precise combination gets debated in the ruling circle.

Political Follies

The Texas Supreme Court ruled Nov. 22 that the state’s school finance system is unconstitutional. The justices decided, 7-1, that the property tax cap “has left poor districts without discretionary measures to tax at lower rates, causing the tax to evolve into a statewide property tax which is prohibited under Article VII of the Texas Constitution.” If yet another special legislative session, called by Gov. Empty Suit, can’t resolve the matter by June 1, school districts in the state will close, according to The Daily Texan.38  Or so those of us who believe in the separation of school and state can hope, although we’ll probably be disappointed by the outcome.39 

The Austin Police Department seized more than 19,000 bootleg CDs at an East Austin flea market on Nov. 20, at the behest of the Recording Industry Association of America.40  But how come I never see similar police busts at the Austin Record Convention? 

Neigborhood News

Someone – maybe even a city flunkie – finally removed the orange sandbags and black cardboard stuck in the runoff drains of Gracy Farms Lane since the city resurfacing project earlier this year. 

Ownership is changing hands at the Braker Center III complex, at Stonehollow Drive and Gracy Farms.41 The Mopac Golf Center off MoPac Boulevard has been bulldozed out of existence for a shopping plaza.42  Texaco has taken over the RaceTrac station at 2601 W. Braker Lane.

Media Indigest

My friend Rick McGinnis appears in a “Godfather”-esque tableau on Page 1, above the fold, of the December LP News. It's the best design I've ever seen in that publication.
E-mail: austindispatches@swbell.net
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NOTES
1 Moore, Clement Clarke. “A Visit From St. Nicholas (‘Twas the Night Before Christmas).” 1823.
    Authorship has alternately been attributed to Henry Livingston Jr. Foster, Donald. Author Unknown: On the Trail of Anonymous. New York City: Henry Holt, 2000: 221-275.
2 Holmes, Mike. “Stranger in a Strange Land.” Liberty Mar. 1987: 51-54.
3 Garreau, Joel. The Nine Nations of North America. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981: 57-58, 61-66, 74-90.
4 Raab, Scott. “Waiting for Nic Cage.” GQ Oct. 1995: 212.
5 Scarface. Universal Pictures, 1983.
6 Stinnett, Robert B. Day of Deceit: The Truth About FDR and Pearl Harbor, rev. ed. New York City: Touchstone, 2001.
7 Garreau, op. cit., 14-97.
8 Shales, Tom, and James Andrew Miller. Live From New York: An Uncensored History of “Saturday Night Live”, rev. ed. Boston: Back Bay Books/Little, Brown & Co., 2003: 246-258.
9 Ice-T [Tracy Morrow]. Home Invasion. Priority 53858, 1993; Street Smarts, Firemars, and Personal Security: Jim Grover’s Guide to Staying Alive and Avoiding Crime in the Real World. Boulder, Colo.: Paladin Press, 2000.
10 Eisler, Dan. “Re: Season’s Greetings.” E-mail to Frank Rossi, 30 Nov. 2005.
11 Adams, Kathy. “A&M Poo-Passer Paying Price.” DT 29 Nov. 2005: 1+.
12 “Rock Howard to Run for State Senate.” AL 20 Dec. 2005: 3-4.
13 Eisler. “Re: The Libertarian Mainstream.” E-mail to Angela Keaton, 15 Nov. 2005.
14 Karp, Walter. Indispensible Enemies: The Politics of Misrule in America. 1973. Rpt. New York City: Franklin Square Press, 1993.
15 AD No. 19n9 (July 2000); Podhoretz, John. Hell of a Ride: Backstage at the White House Follies 1989-1993. New York City: Simon & Schuster, 1993.
16 Rockwell, Llewellyn H. Jr. “The Impossibility of Imposed Freedom.” Speech to staff aides, U.S. House of Representatives, 8 Dec. 2005.
17 Zelade, Richard. Austin, rev. 4th ed. Houston: Gulf Publishing Co., 1996: 253.
18 AD 64n9 (May 1, 2004).
19 Goodfellas. Warner Bros., 1990; The Last Days of Disco. Castle Rock Entertainment/PolyGram Filmed Entertainment/Westerly Films, 1998; Saturday Night Fever. Paramount Pictures/Robert Stigwood Organziation (RSO), 1977; Summer of Sam. 40 Acres & a Mule Filmworks/Touchstone Pictures, 1999.
20 Goodsell, Jonathon. “Bravely Entering a Room With Caged Girls.” XL 28 Apr. 2005: 8; Hibberd, James. “Disco Inferno: A Weather Report.” XL 16 Apr. 1998: 14.
21 “Hey, You!” Saturday Night Live. NBC-TV, 10 Dec. 1977; Lovers and Other Strangers. American Broadcasting Co., 1970; Mystery Science Theater. Comedy Central. 18 May 1996; Schulman, Bruce J. The Seventies: The Great Shift in American Culture, Society, and Politics. New York City: The Free Press, 2001: 174-175.
22 Morales, Ed. The Latin Beat: The Rhythms and Roots of Latin Music From Bossa Nova to Salsa and Beyond. New York City: Da Capo Press, 2003: Ch. 3.
23 AD No. 75n18 (Dec. 5, 2004); Gray, Christopher. “TCB.” AC 25 Nov. 2005: 59.
24 Sun Ra and His Arkestra. “Outer Spaceways Incorporated.” 1966. Nothing Is. ESP-Disk 1045, 1970.
25 AD No. 52n31 (July 13, 2003); AD No. 83n18 (Sep. 7, 2005).
26 Hunt, Maria C. “Softening Hard Liquor.” SDUT 14 Sep. 2005: E1.
27 Baer, Robert. See No Evil: The True Story of a Ground Soldier in the CIA's War on Terrorism, rev. ed. New York City: Three Rivers Press, 2002; Syriana. Warner Bros./Section Eight Ltd./4M/MID Foundation/Participant Productions, 2005.
28 Badgley, Shawn. “Gift Guide: DVDs.” AC 16 Dec. 2005: 60+.
29 Gitlin, Todd. Media Unlimited: How the Torrent of Images and Sounds Overwhelms Our Lives. New York City: Henry Holt and Co., 2001.
30 Pineo, Barry. “ ‘Puerto Rico Mi Patria’: Saving the Island for Themselves.” AC 9 Dec. 2005: 43.
31 Johnson, Paul. Ireland: Land of Troubles: A History From the Twelfth Century to the Present Day. London: Book Club Associates, 1980; Van den Berghe, Pierre L. The Ethnic Phenomenon. New York City: Elsevier, 1981: 22.
32 Flores, Juan. From Bomba to Hip-Hop: Puerto Rican Culture and Latino Identity. New York City. Columbia UP, 2000.
33 “Fuel Charge Increase in January.” Austin Energy Customer News Dec. 2005: 1.
34 Price, Asher. “Austin Ready to Prosecute as Bar Patrons Continue to Smoke.” AAS 6 Dec. 2005: A1.
35 Plohetski, Tony, and Lilly Rockwell. “Mall Area is Briefly Deprived of Power.” AAS 10 Dec. 2005: B1.
36 King, Michael. “Memo to Cap Metro.” AC 16 Dec. 2005: 19-20.
37 King. “Thomas Declares for Mayor.” AC 2 Dec. 2005: 24.
38 Collins, Jimmie. “Property Tax Ruled Illegal.” DT 23 Nov. 2005: 1+.
39 Eisler. “For a growing number of students in Linn and Benton counties ... There's No Place Like Home.” Corvallis (Ore.) Gazette-Times 13 Sept.1992: A1; Gatto, John Taylor. The Underground History of American Education: a Schoolteacher's Intimate Investigation Into the Problem of Modern Schooling. New York City: Oxford Village Press, 2000; Richman, Sheldon. Separation of School and State. Fairfax, Va.: Future of Freedom Foundation, 1994; Rothbard. Education: Free and Compulsory. 1972. Rpt. Auburn, Ala.: Ludwig von Mises Institute, 1999; Rushdoony, Rousas J. The Messianic Character of American Education: Studies in the History of the Philosophy of Education. Nutley, N.J.: The Craig Press, 1963.
40 Norton, Ingrid. “APD Busts Bootleg Music, Video Vendors.” DT 23 Nov. 2005: 1+.
41 Kaspar, Mary Alice, and Chantal Outon. “Hill Partners Buying Braker Center III.” ABJ 18 Nov. 2005: 1+.
42 AD No. 52n23 (July 13, 2003).