The World Wide Panorama (WWPano) is a project I've been involved with several times over the past two years. Each solstice or equinox hundreds of panographic photographers dash off to capture a panorama in the spirit of an announced theme. The WWPano website is an incredible collection of interactive panoramas - QuicktimeVR - from around the world, and it continues to grow spectacularly every quarter of the year. Check it out now!

The four WWPano projects I've submitted for so far:

• Original WWPano event: http://geoimages.berkeley.edu/wwp304/html/RogerHoward.html
• World Heritage: http://geoimages.berkeley.edu/wwp604/html/RogerHoward.html
• Bridges: http://geoimages.berkeley.edu/wwp904/html/RogerHoward.html
• Sanctuary: http://geoimages.berkeley.edu/wwp1204/html/RogerHoward.html
• Energy: http://geoimages.berkeley.edu/wwp905/html/RogerHoward.html

Note: Energy has launched, see the link directly above!

I was fortunate enough not only to get to see George Galloway tonight in Los Angeles, but to go out afterwards with him and his colleagues thanks to my wonderful sister. His talk was powerful, funny, terrifying, and extremely moving. Rather than reviewing what he said, which I couldn't possibly give a faithful summary of, I find myself struck by one significant thought - where are *our* leaders? Yes, we Yanks can take great pleasure and inspiration from this man, but it's just sad that it takes a member of a foreign political system to provide any semblance of leadership in thinking about issues of class and race, war and peace, and to remind us of the facts of our history and the present.

The Kennedy's, MLK, Malcolm X, and all the great orators and civic revolutionaries were all dead before I showed up on this planet. I'm mortified when I look at my younger friends and family, the kids I know, and my own generation, and try to find anyone we can look to for moral guidance, political awareness, and a sense of humanity for all our struggling brothers and sisters around the world. I can't think of one American I can compare to a man such as Mr. Galloway, let alone the great leaders of our (not so distant) past. There are the endless pundits, the handful of artists and even smaller group of polticians who touch on the issues, but I can't imagine someone capturing the hearts and minds of the people in our current state. I'm left to wonder what is so perverted in our culture that in a country of nearly 300 million people we are all either homogenized or marginalized. What really hit this point home was the walk to the pub afterward, contemplating the total lack of security for Mr. Galloway as we stroll by the Ambassador Hotel, where poor Bobby Kennedy, the last politician I was ever inspired by, was murdered years before my own birth.

We live in a sad state, awaiting salvation, hoping whoever comes to deliver us won't meet the same fate.

Ok, we're not there yet, but boy the US seems to be falling apart, like an old car that had been running along OK until that new owner stopped putting oil in it. Today I sit in LA, in power blackout, wondering when my lights are going to come back on. If New Orleans has taught us anything, it's the fact that we're not nearly as far from total chaos as we might have assumed; just a slight tip of the scale and everything can fall apart. At least the power went out early in the day, and for the most part order was restored promptly - no rioting (a minor miracle for the city), just the usual assha

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Ok, a few days late, but I managed to make it home and just barely avoid what would have easily been the worst flight of my life. A few keywords so I can avoid having to relive the whole experience in prose: rude metrosexual, hairless dog, nonstop barking, angry passengers, t-minus 5 minutes, kindly ejected from flight.

As usual, New York was a lumpy mix of unadulterated adrenaline, impossible productivity, and a lightening of the bank account reminiscent of a good old fashioned commie wallet burning party. Photodocumentary evidence forthcoming.

Oy. Ok, I've decided participating in a lollypop orgy was not the smartest thing I've ever done, speaking bacteriologically. Anyway, too late now, I'm sick as a dog, with some of the most alien looking stuff evacuating from my not inconsiderable nasal passages.

Time to hit the conference this morning, with zero sleep, doped up on antihistamines, epinephedrine, and whatever else is in the Sudafed cocktail.

In NYC for 48 hours now; I'm staying in Ina's fab loft in Brooklyn, with fellow houseguests The Yes Men. Last night we went to a packed art opening, where Ina's boy Graham Parker was representing. Some of his current work consists of various pieces constructed from snippets of SPAM, the Patriot Act, and other interesting literary sources. Last night he was distributing newspapers composed almost entirely of excerpts from spam, 419 scams, and other online noise.

We also managed a 7 way lollypop orgy - all the disease vectors of a regular orgy, but none of the fun! I'll just leave it at that.