311's 'Uplifter'

Shelling in the summertime doesn't guarantee that flawless find, but that's usually not why you're even looking. You just hope the tide returns a few gems while you're around.

Rap-rock-reggae rabble-rousers 311 seem to embrace the value of time. In the Twitter age two years passes like two minutes, and the boys of Omaha get that. Never before have they let four years go by before going forward, and maybe that's what holds them back.

For Uplifter, the band's ninth album in 16 years, 311 took their time and took on producer Bob Rock, whose résumé will forever outshine that of his peers; he produced Metallica's 1991 self-titled masterpiece, an album that coincidentally shares a song title with 311's last radio hit. Their current single ("Hey You") sounds disappointingly crafted for the masses, and should have been passed up for another rocker. Incidentally, Rock may want to leave Uplifter off his next job application.

It's not to say his latest effort, which hits stores Tuesday, has suffered; the band sounds more focused and genuine at points, especially on songs like "Too Much Too Fast" - easily the album's standout - which oddly recalls melodies from Paul McCartney's Wings catalogue. Tim Mahoney's tropical guitar strings echo and soar over P-Nut's (subtle) bass pulse and drummer Chad Sexton's (modest) staccato thunder.

A lot of Uplifter's lyrics, however, rapidly leave listeners wondering why they had to wait so long for so little ("You take a little bit of me and a whole lot of you/Add it up together and here's whatcha gonna do.") Here's what you ought to do: Skip directly to track four ("Golden Sunlight"), the tune Rock should have showcased as the album's opening cut. It's the most mature 311 song since Transistor's layered "Stealing Happy Hours" from 1997.

Nick Hexum's vocals sound sporadically timid through much of Uplifter, while fellow singer S.A. Martinez outdoes himself with slicing harmonies. He's rapping less and singing more for a change, and it suits him. But the music heavily overshadows the album's lyrics. Uplifter could have easily been an instrumental record. Bob Rock's studio influence becomes evident about halfway through; he's allowing 311 to explore a bit beyond their formula of yore. If not for performances like the lovely "Two Drops In The Ocean" and the spacey-yet-spunky "India Ink", Rock's guidance would have sunk his first project with the band.

311 are clearly at their best when they aren't overthinking their comfort zone of chorus, verse, chorus, rap bridge, chorus. These guys were fusing hip-hop with aggressive riffs and backbeats before Fred Durst ever did it for the nookie. And they no longer have to prove their talent or their longevity. The band members are flirting with age 40 now; that, it's been said, is when life truly begins.

While it's not without its flaws, Uplifter indeed sounds like a summertime album: A dazed cloud sporting steel-toed boots. 311's only enemy is a safe, more-of-the-same album; they came dangerously close to engaging that demon. But taking their time has proven 311 have more gems in store for a band now pushing two decades together.

-P.F.

Killing Us

This Wednesday a Florida man will be spared his scheduled lethal injection, thanks to an indefinite stay of execution granted by the Supreme Court.

Governor Charlie Crist had signed the death warrant last month for David Eugene Johnston, who claims DNA testing will exonerate him in the 1983 murder of 84-year-old Mary Hammond. The proof will be found in her fingernail clippings, Johnston argues. Next month marks 25 years since Johnston entered Death Row.

Florida resumed executions 30 years ago today following a lifted court ban on capital punishment. In 2000, the state retired Old Sparky, the state's electric chair that once came dangerously close to killing some officers when a nearby puddle of water caught fire.

Governor Crist has signed a handful of death warrants, but hasn't always gotten his way. Earlier this month, the court put a hold on executing John Marek. A jury convicted him of kidnapping Adella Simmons from the Florida Turnpike before he raped and murdered the 47-year-old in 1983. Marek's attorney now claims new evidence will clear his client.

Today white men comprise the majority of the 392 inmates on Florida's Death Row. Twenty-one executions happened on former Governor Jeb Bush's watch during his eight-year tenure in Tallahassee.

His brother - who would later be "elected" President - served for six years as Texas Governor; 154 people were put to death during that time, according to the state's Department of Criminal Justice. Texas leads the nation in executions.

The irony of capital punishment is that most of its die hard supporters claim to be devout Christians, people who preach from a book that certainly does not condone the act of killing someone. These are typically the same people who oppose a woman's right to an abortion.

By contrast, most liberals support that choice while they overwhelmingly condemn the death penalty. This political issue has had me straddling the fence for years. I admit I would be challenged to not take a firm position if a loved one were victimized.

But let's not forget about those who go free because of DNA technology. The Innocence Project of New York reports close to 200 cases where a convicted killer has been cleared through DNA evidence. The study finds most wrongful convictions happen because of "defects" like "mistaken eyewitness identification testimony." And think about this: DNA technology has been around for only 20 years. How many innocent people were put to death prior to 1989?

Some dated reports claim Death Row costs taxpayers tens of millions of dollars more than they pay for an inmate's life prison term. At the same time, doesn't it seem like you see jail expansion projects in every town you visit these days?

And then you take a convicted killer like Gary Alvord, who holds Florida's record for longest Death Row sentence: 35 years and counting.

In the early '70s, Alvord raped and killed a 10-year-old girl. He was found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was committed to a mental institution in Michigan. He escaped. He would go on to kill three women - three generations of a family - in their Tampa home.

To this day, Alvord sits in Union Correctional Institute in Raiford. And to this day, we continue to foot the bill. Why? And what's next?

Convicted killer David Johnston will be served dinner instead of his death sentence at 6:00 this Wednesday evening. The stay of execution allows Johnston's counsel to present its DNA findings in August. If they can't prove Johnston's innocence, he'll finally have to brace for the fatal needle.

In the meantime, the legal system needs a thorough examination. We should strive to reevaluate where we stand on life and money, and what matters more. And maybe Texas should get another hobby.

-P.F.

They Rule

They write. They bicker. They decide.

And, not unlike the journalists who report on those decisions, our Supreme Court Justices are stuck for life.

Of the ten thousand cases they get each term, the appointed judges usually hear fewer than one hundred. But remember, they've got forever.

I recall memorizing the names of all nine Justices for my constitutional law course in college. Could never remember whether Ruth Bader Ginsburg's name had an s or a z.

I do remember the old guy was the liberal and the black guy was the conservative.

When it comes to laying down the law, the most powerful nine individuals are nominated by the President and confirmed by the Senate. George W. Bush got two picks during his eight years: the conservative Sam Alito and the extreme conservative Chief John Roberts. The former president's father, Bush One, had tried to do the same 19 years ago but wound up appointing a lefty -- David Souter.

Souter's out the door next month. That leaves his seat open for President Obama's first Supreme Court choice, 100 days into his first term. Word is he'll go female on this one. And if you thought you'd had your fill of G.O.P. bitching and moaning, prepare for the 'F' word to rear its head ad nauseam once again: filibuster.

Five minutes of those inevitable Senate confirmation hearings will no doubt provoke a nationwide bout of nosebleeds and migraines, not to mention months of wasteful and spiteful bullying, followed by a rushed October court appointment. The latter will only spur further republican axe grinding and Obama bashing, as the media gear up for that predictable Christmas-during-a-recession coverage.

The high court currently hosts four liberals and four conservatives, with Justice Anthony Kennedy as the swing vote. Things seem fairly even judging by the numbers. But Obama will face a bitter battle with right-wingers who will stop at nothing to block judges who might, God forbid, turn us all into a nation of Socialists. You know, because Obama is such a Commie and all.

My advice to the republicans: read a book. You sound incredibly ignorant when you call our president a Socialist one day and a Fascist the next. In fact, you're not allowed to call him anything yet. He hasn't started any global fights. And he sure as hell hasn't taken a vacation since he took office. Worst case scenario, women still get to exercise the freedom the court afforded them in 1973. You know, that word you all love to chant: freedom.

The other night a speaker at a Tampa networking event reminded us journalists in attendance that we share something in common with our Supreme Court Justices: we can do what we do for a living well into our old age.

Quick trivia question: of Justice John Paul Stevens and journalist Mike Wallace, who is older?

Answer: Mike Wallace, who turned 91 this month, came into the world two years before the court's oldest justice.

Journalists and Justices usually find themselves stuck for eternity in what they do. Both careers carry a virtual lifetime appointment.

We can walk away from the job at any time. Only few of us ever do.

-P.F.

Rush Hour

Dude, where's our car industry?

First Chrysler shuts down 700 dealerships and signs on with the Italians, and now General Motors announces it'll officially jump ship Monday morning.

It would seem America's most prosperous business has resigned to the inevitable: the ride is over. Even Ford's chairman, Bill Ford, Jr., admits to the Detroit Free Press today his company "can't unilaterally solve" the car crisis. Already 187,000 American jobs are riding on this mess.

It would seem the Big Three has hit the brakes on competing as usual; believing otherwise would only be wishful thinking, now that the automakers find themselves firmly stuck in bankruptcy's crosshairs.

The feds are taking the driver's seat for G.M., and the century-old company now owes its bondholders more money than it has. Enter your taxpayer bailout cash next week, unless G.M. can convince 90 percent of its investors by tomorrow to trade up their bonds for preferred stock. So far, stakeholders have advised G.M. to get lost in traffic.

Republican bloggers haven't missed out on creating a conspiratorial controversy. They're suddenly accusing Obama of cherry-picking which Chrysler dealerships should close, namely those branches that contribute handsomely to the G.O.P. The president's spokesperson denies any role in the selection process. A public records search finds Ford, G.M. and Chrysler all slightly favored Democratic candidates during the 2008 election cycle. Another search proves oil companies overwhelmingly line the pockets of Republican politicians every year.

This week the brilliant consumer advocate Ralph Nader fired off a letter to Obama regarding his auto task force. Nader warned the president against driving G.M. into bankruptcy. He questioned whether the administration had "evaluated the social ripple effects on suppliers, innovation, dealers, newspapers [and] banks."

What sparked this ripple effect? You could blame our foreign oil demand. You could single out the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Or the lenders who lied to help homebuyers take on those pricey houses they could never afford. Or the homebuyers who lied to the banks about that personal capital they never had. You might blame the demanding auto unions and their pension payouts. And you'd likely be right on all counts. Welcome to Scapegoat City.

We can thank all of the above for contributing to mounting foreclosures and unemployment claims. People aren't working, so they're not buying cars. Cars don't sell, so auto companies don't buy local advertising time. Television stations force out experienced, contracted news employees to cut costs. Bosses encourage those who survive the ax to take unpaid furlough "vacations." And competing news affiliates now trade video, share helicopters and -- perhaps worst of all -- risk their independence on a daily basis.

But the American people will never shy away from an attractive sales pitch. This week French engineers unveiled their plan to hitch the American market in 2011 with the $18,000 AirPod, a car that runs on compressed air. Just plug it into the wall. And wait four hours. Give it time, and you can expect to get the equivalency of 100 miles to the gallon.

We've been down this road before. We get worked up about alternative fuels, but we never seem to physically embrace the idea. We often accuse efficient hybrids of being too new, too costly, too ugly. Remember the electric car? It briefly saw the light of day, but quickly disappeared when the government quashed the invention. The cars were hauled off, destroyed and eradicated from the public conscious.

But today's Washington Times reports that Ford and Chrysler will soon offer lines of battery-electric vehicles; how they'll manage to do this while closing plants and pink-slipping workers remains to be seen. It seems timing has never fared well for these revolutionary cars.

So really, dude, where's our car industry?

Stuck in traffic with that other Big Three -- the courts, the congress and the president -- and headed for one hell of a crash. And it's rush hour.

-P.F.

Oh, 'bama...

Does President Obama want government transparency, or doesn't he?

This week it seems our commander-in-chief has managed, for the first time, to frustrate liberals on not one, but two major issue flip-flops. First, he said he'd repeal the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. Then Obama said he'd release those Abu Ghraib abuse photos. Now, he's doing neither.

Obama's spokesperson said of the former that it will take more than "the snapping of one's fingers" to eradicate President Clinton's requirement of forcing gay soldiers to hide their sexuality. It's not to say Obama won't urge Congress to overturn "don't ask, don't tell." But it is safe to assume - in this age when the military should accept anyone deluded enough to sign up to die - that this policy has found its way to the cozy back burner along with the other civil liberties issues the government continues to ignore.

Come on, Obama. You know it's bad when Rachel Maddow's guest says you're "morphing into your predecessor."

As if a George W. Bush comparison weren't enough to incite the "change" for which Obama campaigned, the president has further regressed by now denying the American Civil Liberties Union its Freedom of Information Act request for the Abu Ghraib pictures which, the administration decided Wednesday, will not see the light of day after all.

Obama says releasing the pictures would "put our troops in greater danger." Really? I'd argue your pledge last month to keep our troops in two wars until at least 2012 puts them in greater danger.

How about holding our troops to account rather than putting them on a pedestal? The American people are entitled to see how those they hold up so high have engaged in the lowest of activities. It would appear that too many soldiers have too little to do, so some have resorted to tormenting prisoners and capturing it on camera. Obama says releasing more evidence would only "further inflame anti-American opinion." Sorry, Mr. President, but that ship sailed six years ago, circa Bush's "Mission Accomplished" charade.

Our military must immediately cease its own "anti-American" operations, not the least of which ousting any soldier who admits he's gay. This, Mr. President, would exist as the crux of acting "anti-American." I hope you'll consult your Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman, Michael Mullen, about your latest misjudgments. General Colin Powell would have never stood for any of this nonsense.

Powell fought President Clinton on "don't ask, don't tell" in 1993, but it stands 16 years later and looks like it may never go away.

Even Log Cabin Republicans - who "work within the Republican Party to advocate equal rights for all Americans" - accuse Obama of "backpedaling" on the policy. They say his administration has put "our military readiness in jeopardy."

If "don't ask, don't tell" were ever legally enforced in the world of business and politics, we would surely be without good leaders, as well as our good sense.

Have you ever heard of Kevin Beckner? He's a Hillsborough County Commissioner. How about Jeffrey Slavin? He's the mayor of Somerset, Maryland. And Lupe Valdez? She's the sheriff of Dallas County. And she - along with Kevin and Jeffrey - is an openly gay public official.

So, if you happen to be a gay American, you can convince the people of a Texas county that you're qualified to be the area's chief law enforcement officer. Just don't go fantasizing about boot camp anytime soon.

The best part is, Sheriff Lupe Valdez was once a tank commander for the U.S. Army. She even served as a Senior Agent with the Department of Homeland Security. You go, girl!

For too long, Governor Charlie Crist has fought rumors that he is a closeted gay politician. At 52, Crist married Carole Lynn Rome Oumano, 39, in December. Does our governor owe the people of Florida an explanation? The newly-released documentary Outrage would argue that he does. The film outs conservative Republican politicians like former Idaho Senator Larry Craig and former Florida Congressman Mark Foley as hypocrites who lead privately gay lives while they publicly denounce homosexuality.

No one - including public officials - truly has the duty to inform the public about his sexuality. And the government should have no duty to interfere with a gay couple's right to marry and/or adopt children. The only time it should interfere is when people are targeted for what they are.

In April, the House passed the "Matthew Shepard Hate Crimes Prevention Act," which now lies in the hands of the U.S. Senate. Matthew Shepard was subjected to unbelievable acts of cruelty, violence and bigotry in 1998. Two rotten men targeted the 21-year-old Wyoming student because he was gay. For more than a decade, legislation in his honor has never held up because of the opposing viewpoints on what constitutes a hate crime. If approved, the law would provide federal money to local prosecutors of crimes like the murder of Matthew Shepard.

Neither Senator Bill Nelson nor Senator Mel Martinez has returned calls for comment on Senate Bill 909. A subcommittee with more Democrats than Republicans has been reviewing the bill since April 28. We can only hope our representatives will send this off for the president's signature.

Mr. President, you wouldn't be here if it weren't for generations of fighting social injustice in the country you now lead. Please recognize the civil rights struggle that continues in the lives of our gay friends. Their public service depends on what you promised all of us for the last two years.

Do you want change, or don't you?

-P.F.

Amazing Grace

She forces herself to avoid her newspaper and television this time of year. She looks forward to hearing from the same man who calls her every Mother's Day, without fail.

I'm hesitant to telephone Grace Callaway. I'm not the voice Grace expects to hear. But, true to her first name, Ms. Callaway politely and eloquently speaks to me from her Apopka home. She tells me she appreciates that people still ask about her son, Chip, the youngest of her four children. She says talking about Chip helps her grieve since she can't speak to him directly.

Tomorrow marks 29 years since Grace could do that. John "Chip" Callaway, Jr., was 19, a brilliant tennis player and mechanical engineering student at Tuskegee Institute in Alabama. Spring Break rolled around, and Chip -- who typically caught rides with friends to see his family in Miami -- decided to get there sooner by hopping aboard a Greyhound. It was a week before Mother's Day, 1980.

"Providence put him on that bus," Grace tells me on the eve of the anniversary of Chip's death. "It was the most horrific experience of my lifetime."

Chip -- along with 25 others aboard the bus -- plummeted to his death on May 9, 1980, when a harbor pilot crashed the Summit Venture into the Sunshine Skyway bridge in St. Petersburg. The ship's force destroyed the bridge, and sent the Greyhound and several vehicles 150 feet to the bay below.

Lynnwood Armstrong remembers the eerie weather as he crossed the Florida border from Alabama that morning. "It was just strange," he says.

Investigators later reported thunderstorms, zero visibility and winds approaching hurricane force at 7:33 a.m., the time of the crash.

Fate would spare Lynnwood from the accident. He had gotten off the bus to see his mother in Plant City a short time before the vehicle was to cross the Skyway. Lynnwood Armstrong and Chip Callaway had left together on the same Greyhound from Tuskegee that day.

Lynnwood remembers meeting Chip during a pickup basketball game their freshman year. They clashed at first, but became close for the next two years.

"We just clicked," Lynnwood says. "He was a great guy to leave this earth so early. We did everything together."

They would grow together as brothers. Chip would give Lynnwood pointers on the tennis court. Lynnwood would include Chip at family gatherings. While traveling home on the bus together, the young men talked about summer jobs. They fantasized about getting their first apartment together. They couldn't wait for their independence. It would be their last conversation.

Lynnwood never heard from Chip that afternoon, and called his buddy's mother, Grace, in Miami. Together they watched television news reports of what was being recovered from the bay.

"When I saw the bus come up out of the water, I knew," Lynnwood tells me. He vividly remembers Grace's scream on the other end just before he dropped the phone. He had been on that mangled bus just hours ago.

It would be an agonizing five days before Grace and her husband, John, would hear Chip's body was recovered -- the last of 35 victims. Chip had drowned. His family now had some semblance of relief.

"I never thought I'd rejoice when somebody would tell me they found my child," Grace decided. "It changed my whole outlook on tragedy. It's uniquely traumatizing to lose a child."

Chip admired Swedish tennis star Bjorn Borg and loved the music of the Bee Gees. And he teased his friend Lynnwood, the architect major who spent too many hours studying. Chip could have never foreseen the tradition that his mother and his college roommate would one day share: Lynnwood's annual Mother's Day phone call to Grace.

Grace says Lynnwood never misses a holiday, especially since Grace's husband, John, died in November 2007. John had never gotten over Chip's death. Grace says she and John looked to God -- rather than to each other -- for guidance following the loss of Chip.

She explains: "You can't expect your spouse to support you. They can't. You're both dealing with the same emotions and expect the same thing of each other."

Heart trouble caught up with John while he sat in his parked car. He and Grace had been married 64 years. Grace only hopes people won't forget about what happened 29 years ago tomorrow. She knows Lynnwood never will.

Lynnwood, now 49, works for the Florida Department of Transportation in Bartow. He's quick to point out the irony; he even inspected the Skyway bridge during its reconstruction in the mid-'80s. Lynnwood enjoys fishing from the pier that stands in place of the old bridge.

"I go there and reflect," he says.

Grace Callaway, however, hasn't been to the Skyway since her son's death.

"I can't drive that bridge," Grace states gently, without a hint of doubt in her voice. She says talking about it helps her heal. Writing does, too. Years ago Grace decided to send a letter to the Summer Venture captain, John Lerro, who the state had cleared of negligence in the accident.

"I wished him well," she says. Lerro died of multiple sclerosis in 2002.

Grace evokes a quote from Mother Teresa regarding what she'd say to God if given the opportunity: "You've got some explaining to do."

She fights to catch her breath as we share a laugh over the phone. She wonders: "People who have no hope, I don't know how they could make it."

Happy Mother's Day, Grace.


-P.F.

Pants Down

Listen hard enough, and you'll hear the strangest things while taking off your pants.

While behind the curtain in a Hyde Park alterations shop this afternoon, I hear Gov. Charlie Crist will likely announce his 2010 Senate run on Monday.

Crist certainly has his plate full these days: a new wife, a long-awaited seat belt law and an ongoing battle for blackjack. The latter is sure to incite some thorough mudslinging from the man who took Crist to court over past casino meddling: Marco Rubio.

The former House speaker - a staunch Huckabee supporter this time last year - announced his candidacy Tuesday, which will put him against the current governor in the U.S. Senate race. That's assuming Crist enters the race. He will.

The two republicans will soon spar, and no doubt Rubio will play up his Florida Supreme Court victory over Crist. Rubio alleged Crist overstepped his bounds when he talked casino expansion with the Seminole Tribe in 2007. The Court sided with Speaker Rubio. Crist's deal with the Tribe was a bust. Similar talks this week appear to be off the table as well.

Friday will mark the end to another annual legislative session. Lawmakers have approved a $66 billion budget that will drive up prices on car registrations and cigarettes. Crist will announce his news to run for the Senate on Monday, according to the voice on the other side of the curtain.

Once outside the cramped dressing room, the tailor pins my pants leg for a hem. The voice I had heard belongs to a guy my age who says he's a fundraiser for the Democratic Party. He's just been relocated to Tampa from Boston. He says his name is Brian. His shirt looks much too big for him. That's why he's here.

Brian tells me he works for Florida C.F.O. Alex Sink, and if Charlie Crist announces on Monday we can expect Sink to do the same on Wednesday. If he runs, then she runs. She simply can't announce her plans to run for Governor if the current one hasn't officially decided not to run for reelection. So we'll have to wait and see what Charlie does.

It may prove to be a long weekend for political junkies, but my wait will be much more grueling. I mean, really, seven days to hem a pair of blue jeans?


-P.F.

Hey, Joe...

Bill Maher once jokingly attributed Barack Obama's calm demeanor during the campaign to Xanax. Seriously, who stays that calm for that long?

And then we have Joe Biden, for whom painkillers were likely designed. When he speaks, we shudder. Not to insult the senior senator, but his Secret Service detail might consider carrying a cattle prod. Somebody must immediately restrain our vice president.

Who could forget his endearing description of Obama in 2007: "I mean, you got the first mainstream African-American who is articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy." Remember, this was a year-and-a-half before Biden joined Obama on the ticket.

The thing is, Joe's sincerity seems to trip him up at the worst times. He doesn't ever quite sound like he's trying to offend, but he does.

How about his 7-11 comment to an Indian-American voter in 2006: "You cannot go into a 7-11 or a Dunkin' Donuts unless you have a slight Indian accent. Oh, I'm not joking." Joe swings, Joe misses.

I don't mean to cherry-pick sound bites here, but shouldn't Vice President Joe Biden be a bit more well-versed after 40-some years in politics?

Perhaps the comments with the most impact on the most people came this week regarding the swine flu. Joe told Matt Lauer on "Today" the Biden family would not be travelling on trains or in planes any time soon. "I wouldn't go anywhere in confined places now," Joe said.

Sure, that's his advice for his family, and probably not the worst thing he's ever said. But when the American people hear their V.P. warning his loved ones against travel, the American people get scared. And when the American people get scared, they get grounded.

My wife interviewed a woman here in Tampa who refuses to allow her daughter to go on a scheduled school field trip to Busch Gardens. Mom fears the swine flu spread, and who can blame her? After all, the vice president told her to be scared.

In Florida we can only hope the suspected cases (one in Pinellas County) test negative for the flu. Today the World Health Organization says we are prepared for a flu pandemic. For the first time, the W.H.O. will "track the evolution of a pandemic in real-time." It adds that "imposing travel restrictions would have very little effect on stopping the virus from spreading."

I'll tell you what shouldn't be flying: Air Force One. That photo-op last week cost taxpayers $329,000 and several new pairs of underwear. And -- for the very first time -- President Obama wasn't calm. He says he wasn't consulted about the flight until after the picture was snapped.

I wonder if he settled down by lighting up one of those Menthols he used to smoke. Maybe Joe knows. Just don't ask him publicly.


-P.F.