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Only 20 19 18 17 Weeks 'til Netroots Nation!

Some quick updates and suchlike related to this year's big event in San Jose June 20-23:

Netroots nation Exhibition Hall
The NN exhibit hall.
(Photo courtesy of NPI)
If you run a non-profit c3 or c4 organization, or are a qualified small business, and you haven't exhibited at Netroots Nation, enter the 'Grab A Booth' Contest and you could win free booth space and two free passes to the convention:
With thousands of people attending Netroots Nation every year as well as the growing popularity of our Community and Exhibit Hall, this is a great chance for your group or company to get in front of engaged progressives from throughout the country.
The top three vote-getters in our online contest will automatically get a booth in the Hall. The rest of the entrants will go through a second round where a panel of judges will decide, based on merit, which three entrants will receive the other three spots.
Submissions will be accepted through February 25th. Click here for more information and the entry form. If you have questions, email Karen Kolber at: karen [at]

NN13 Fun Fact: this year 530 proposals were submitted for sessions, panels and screenings at the convention, including one called "Big Ideas for Winning" submitted in 5-point type and another written in freedom-scented ink (which bears a remarkable resemblance to chocolate sauce). Thanks to everyone who worked hard to come up with some great ideas. The finalists will be announced in April.

Organizers have added an additional track of trainings to the agenda. That's an additional 10 sessions offering hands-on skills and tactical training.

YES! You have a unique opportunity to be a first-responder for a day. YES! That day is Wednesday, June 19th.  YES! The Fire Ops 101 class is now accepting registrations. YES! You can play with the hook-and-ladder siren. YES! Writing "YES!" over and over is awesome, say marketing books.

Netroiots Nation Register Now icon
Happy Birthday---[Toot!]---this Saturday to Netroots Nation Executive Director Raven Brooks! And many blessings on your camels.

Register today before the price goes up.  There are only a certain number of tickets available at each price tier, so register before the current price tier sells out." Click here for registration and here for official hotel info.

Meanwhile, as we drum our fingers to the nub waiting for June to get here, Cheers and Jeers bids a fond farewell to a beloved beast, known by many around these parts, below the fold...

Cheers and Jeers for Thursday, February 21, 2013

Note: Just a heads-up that there will be no C&J on Monday as we'll be in Russia looking for meteor fragments to hawk on eBay.  Back Tuesday with no meteor fragments but a cool "I went to Russia looking for meteor fragments and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" t-shirt.


By the Numbers:
Days 'til Mothering Sunday (mmmm…simnel cake) in the UK: 17
Days `til the original Marathon Seafood Festival in the Florida Keys: 16
Percent of Americans who believe the pre-Great Recession economy will not return: 39%
Percent who do believe it will: 27%
(Source: USA Today)
Percent chance that the nation's #1 public pension fund, the Investment Committee of the California Public Employees' Retirement System, is selling its stock in gun companies: 100%
Percent of black, hispanic and white internet users, respectively, who are on Twitter: 26%, 19%, 14%
(Source: Pew Research)
Percent of Americans who identified themselves as members of the tea party in 2010 and 2012, respectively: 24%, 8%
(Source: Harper's Index)


Your Thursday Molly Ivins Moment:

Bush, Cheney and Co. will continue to play the patriotic bully card just as long as you let them.  I've said it before: War brings out the patriotic bullies.  In World War I, they went around kicking dachshunds on the grounds that dachshunds were "German dogs."  They did not, however, go around kicking German shepherds.  The MINUTE someone impugns your patriotism for opposing this war, turn on them like a snarling dog and explain what loving your country really means.  That, or you could just piss on them elegantly, as Rep. John Murtha did.  Or eviscerate them with wit (look up Mark Twain on the war in the Philippines).  Or point out the latest in the endless "string of bad news."

Do not sit there cowering and pretending the only way to win is as Republican-lite. If the Washington-based party can't get up and fight, we'll find someone who can.
---January, 2006


Just one today:

CHEERS to Molly, by golly.  Her full name is Molly of Wonka Moore.  She was born the day George W. Bush was sworn in for his first term.  She died yesterday, one month to the day after Barack Obama was sworn in for his second.  Twelve years, one month.  A lot of Alpo under the bridge.  A lot of skritches.  A lot of sniffin' anything that did or did not move.  A lot of fetches and walks and car trips (we never once tied her to the roof) and games of tug-of-war.  Oh, and a lot of her fat butt nudging me further and further to the edge of the bed at night until I owned nothing more than a four-inch strip of mattress.  How I never ended up going over the cliff I have no idea.

Molly, the chocolate lab belonging to Bill in Portland Maine and Common Sense Mainer.
Younger days, with what she
would call a small stick.
Molly was always "C&J's chocolate lab."  Over the years she got to know a ton of Kossacks, and every one of 'em---including some who came to be among her best buds---got the Molly Treatment at the door: an 80-pound brown battering ram with a tongue slobbering at one end and a tail that could leave a mark on your leg wagging at the other.  And then---Bam!---down on her back she'd go for mandatory tummy rubs.

She barked her lungs out at critters on the TV---every on-screen puppy or horse or cow a potential intruder.  And I swear to you she growled at Dick Cheney.  (Yes, I have witnesses.)

And oh my god she could've swam all day if we let her.  She was one of those dogs that prefers diving into the water from a dock to delicately wading in from the shore.  And fetching mere sticks from the water was boring to her---what she really preferred was whole tree branches.  Through brute strength and sheer tenacity she'd clamp one in her jaws, guide it to shore like a Mississippi River barge, drag it up the bank and bark like mad 'til we heaved it back in the water so she could do it all over again.

Molly marched with us in 10 gay pride parades. She loved everyone regardless of their race, religion or nationality.  She never burned a single drop of fossil fuel.  She looked nardly in a bandana.  She preferred clean water and air.  She was all for saving the whales.  Yes---C&J's chocolate lab was a dirty fucking hippie.

Every day at 4:30 I'd say one of our many magic words---"Popcorn!"---and she'd head straight for the cabinet where we kept it.  Moments later we'd be sharing a bowl together while watching Judge Judy.  She also perked up at "Cookie," "Hungry," "Walk," "Car," "Squirrel!!!," "Stick," "Busy Bone," "Frosty Paw," "Beggin' Strips" and, of course, "Ball!!!"  She went through so many of the fuzzy green kind that I expect flags will be flying at half staff today at the Penn tennis ball plant.  They lost one of their best customers.

Molly, owned by Bill in Portland Maine and Common Sense Mainer, two days before she died on 2/20/13.
Last Monday, with lifelong
friends Ducky and Squirrely.
The word she never seemed to understand: "Come."  She apparently thought it meant, "Come to me by walking away from me."  She was not valedictorian in obedience school.

Yes, Molly's gone.  Cancer got her, and quickly.  The painful mass that first appeared three weeks ago on her hind left leg (already weakened by age) left her essentially unable to walk, let alone manage the steps to our 2nd floor apartment.  Her last night with us---Tuesday---she was in agony, despite the painkillers the vet had prescribed.

Yesterday morning an x-ray told us in no uncertain terms what we feared.  Then we said our goodbyes to the pooch we'd raised from a pup, her muzzle now white, her eyes cloudy and her teeth worn down by the aforementioned tennis balls.  One more hug.  One more smooch.  One more "We love you, old girl."  And then she was led to the room where she would be relieved of her pain and suffering quickly and humanely.

Any pet owner knows how tough it is at the end, and lord knows Michael and I are no exception.  All you can do when it comes is hope your noble beast would look back on his or her life and think, "Well, shit, that was fun."  I'd like to think Molly did just that as she passed on.

Molly is survived by Michael, Fantom the kitty, and me.  Plus her toys "Piggy," "Squirrely," "Sealy," "Quacky," "Tiger," "Ducky," "Little Ducky," "BIG Ducky," "Crabby," "Skunky," "Ladybuggy," "Frosty," "Rope," "Aqua Toy," "Bow Chicka Bow Wow," 20 tennis balls, 8 sticks of varying thickness, and a rope.

She will live on forever in our house.  In part because we'll never, ever get rid of all the Molly hair.  That's not a complaint.  It's a promise.

Molly, the chocolate lab belonging to Bill in Portland Maine and Common Sense Mainer.
C&J's chocolate lab

Oscars are Sunday. All the acting categories are pretty much a lock except Best Supporting Actor. Who would you give it to?

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| 2486 votes | Vote | Results

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