…but I just don’t know what it is, either.
Friday Cat Blogging
One of the best things about having cats when you’re sick is that they snuggle up with you and purr while you scratch their ears and bellies, acting like wee, fuzzy, vibrating blankets of love.
One of the worst things about having cats when you’re sick is that they have to crawl all over you to do it.
Cat owners will know exactly what I mean when I say that cats do not sit, but arrange themselves—circling around, checking out all the best options, positioning themselves, and then kneading for no fewer than nine hours before they will finally rest their behinds in one place. Sometimes, they’ll even have to have a few “test sits” before they settle into their proper destination of repose.
If it’s you they fancy sitting on, they’ll knead you. This is never an especially pleasurable experience at Shakes Manor, as Matilda and Olivia have are not declawed, and, though they try not to shred us into bloody pulps during their kneading sessions, it can happen nonetheless.
Kneading a gurgling and churning belly is really just ever so much worse.
But late last night came the worst yet. I had fallen asleep in my chaise in a rather awkward, curled-up position, and when I awoke, my entire right leg from toe to hip was completely dead. As soon as I stretched it out, the pins and needles started. “Mmph,” I mumbled, approximately, biting the insides of my cheeks. “FUCKING HELL OWWWWW!” was what I wanted to say, but Mr. Shakes was asleep in the bedroom, which is the next room over, so I couldn’t. Or didn’t, in any case.
Then Matilda jumped up onto the chaise and began walking up my dead leg toward me, kneading as she went. I convulsed, then paralyzed with the pain of it, knowing if I moved a muscle, I would let out a bellow that would wake the neighbors, no less Mr. Shakes. I reached out my clawed hands slowly and waited for her to get within my reach, then grabbed her and held her against my face, screaming into her belly, “AHHGGGGHH!”
Her fluffiness served quite well as a scream-muffler.
I let her go, and she looked back at me like I was insane. “Wev, weirdo,” she seemed to say, then licked her nose and walked away.
Feingold Rocks
BradBlog's got video of Feingold's opening statement from today's censure hearing. I don't know how anyone with a modicum of integrity and faith in our Constitution can listen to him and not find him absolutely right.
The End of the World as We Know It?
In Slate, Michael Kinsley asks, “Would it be the end of the world if American newspapers abandoned the cult of objectivity?”
Aside from my disagreements with Kinsley over how significant a role genuine objectivity still plays in American media, as opposed to the ugly funhouse mirror version wherein each “side” of a debate is given equal time, no matter how ludicrous or untenable one side’s position may be, I think he’s right when he notes:
Abandoning the pretense of objectivity does not mean abandoning the journalist's most important obligation, which is factual accuracy. In fact, the practice of opinion journalism brings additional ethical obligations. These can be summarized in two words: intellectual honesty.Therein lies my biggest objection to Fox News, for example. I don’t give a rat’s ass that it’s partisan; I take issue with its insistence that it isn’t partisan, despite all evidence to the contrary. If Fox News changed its tagline from “Fair and Balanced” to “Always Right” (wink wink, nudge nudge) and proudly waved an elephant-emblazoned flag, I wouldn’t complain a bit. It’s their mendacity in presenting slanted news under the guise of fairness and balance that irks.
Frankly, I think we’re long overdue for openly partisan news. This insistence on objectivity in news reporting is rather exceptionally American. Ask any Brit—they’ll tell you which is the conservative rag, and which is the moderate rag, and which is the liberal rag. And, considering that the average Brit is hell and gone more well-versed in political and cultural news than the average American, I don’t think much of an argument can be mounted that a partisan delivery undermines the conveyance of facts, if the effort is undertaken with sincerity—and that little thing called “intellectual honesty” which Kinsley mentions.
If this is, indeed, the end of the world as we know it, I feel fine.
Ads I Never Want to See Again
I know annoying ads are usually Toast’s thing, but after having spent an unusual amount of time in front of the idiot box, slathered across the sofa like a steamrolled cartoon character, the past couple of days, there are some seriously irritating adverts that I never, ever, want to see again.
1. Any ADT home security ad that starts with a mother talking on the phone to an away-from-home father while a creepy burglar skulks outside their picture window. Do home security systems really need to be marketed as man-surrogates?
2. Disaronno’s “Pass the Pleasure Around” advert, which features not only a woman blowing an ice cube, just so she doesn’t miss one last drop of Disaronno…
…but also offers up the worst attempt at a smoldering look by Bartender Guy that I’ve ever seen, who doesn’t look nearly as turned on by the fellacicle as he does sort of embarrassed and nauseated.
Suffice it to say, I share his pain.
3. Any advert for any Axe for Men product. Seriously, if I have to see one more woman humping plumbing or having wanton sex with a geek in an elevator because of Axe, I may have to kill someone.
Grouch, out.
ARGH!
Promptly after posting my last post about three hours ago, our electricity went out, I suppose due to extreme windiness. Now it’s back on, so let’s see if I can manage to eke out another post or two before something else happens as the universe conspires to drive me batshit insane.
*laughs maniacally*
The blithe idiocy of the Bush administration
A little Friday outrage, courtesy of your secretary of state:
Heckled during a visit to Washington's closest ally, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said Friday the United States has made thousands of mistakes but is pursuing worthy goals in Iraq.
"I know we've made tactical errors, thousands of them I'm sure," Rice said at a foreign policy gathering, but history will judge whether the larger aims and decisions were correct.
Also:
"I'm quite certain that there are going to be dissertations written about the mistakes of the Bush administration, and I will probably even oversee some of them when I go back to Stanford," Rice said.
Shorter Condi: "I'll be all snug and sinecured in an ivory tower by the time you finish counting all the dead. Oh, I'm sure."
(It's a cross-post puzzle...)
Go, Quick!
free lunch
Ain't no such thing, right? At least that's what my parents taught me, and for that I am grateful. My roommate is on the phone with a customer service hotline complaining to a phone rep who no doubt doesn't give a crap that her company is totally crooked. Apparently my roommate believed this magazine-distributing company when it promised her some free magazines with no strings attached. Now she's getting phone calls and bills...hmm, that explains the mysterious Redbook and Better Homes and Gardens on the coffee table.
I've gotten into arguments with department store salespeople over this before. They offer me a credit card. I decline. They say, "what, don't you like saving money? We're talking about fifteen percent here." And I tell them what I've heard my dad tell them hundreds of times: "No. I hate saving money." Because it's never just fifteen percent. It's premiums and interest and phone calls and extra mail and less room in my wallet, and you know what? That fifteen percent is worth it to keep those slimy people that much further away from me.
This is capitalism, people! Happy hour is a strategy for getting the after-work crowd in the door and drunk enough that they start ordering $11 martinis. Sears is reaping an insane return from their "contributions" to Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, and they won't be there when the government comes to collect your skyrocketing property taxes. And magazines are never free. Please, let us stop this insane naivete, and together we will look that Express salesgirl in the eye and say, "no, ma'am! I will pay FULL PRICE for this pair of totally hot brown Editor Flare pants, and I will like it!"
Who's comin' with me?
Randomness
Some things I might have written about if I hadn’t been almost dead…
Should men be called feminists? (I think they should be.)
My dinner with Napoli (Nancy rules.)
Heritage Conforms to Type
That Racism Thang
Also, note that Feministing has moved. Update your blogrolls!
What Global Debt Relief Really Means
Over at Newshog, Cernig's found us a terrific story that should warm the cockels of all of us bleeding hearts who think the World Bank, IMF, and developed nations can stop ransoming the global south. Oxfam reports:
The government of Zambia today (1 April) introduced free health care for people living in rural areas, scrapping fees which for years had made health care inaccessible for millions.Debt relief leading to healthcare and education for a country where 65% of the population lives on less than a dollar a day. Go read it all. Hat tip to Cernig on highlighting a rare piece of good news.
The move was made possible using money from the debt cancellation and aid increases agreed at the G8 in Gleneagles last July, when Zambia received $4 billion of debt relief; money it is now investing in health and education.
Did anyone else see the falling stars last night?
So much for Obama. Seriously, what could be the point of this?
U.S. Sen. Barack Obama rallied Connecticut Democrats at their annual dinner Thursday night, throwing his support behind mentor and Senate colleague Joe Lieberman…The “elephant” in the room is right.
Some at Thursday's dinner said that while they were pleased with Lieberman's success in bringing Obama to Connecticut, they still consider Lieberman uncomfortably tolerant of the Bush administration.
Obama wasted little time getting to that point, calling it the "elephant in the room" but praising Lieberman's intellect, character and qualifications.
"The fact of the matter is, I know some in the party have differences with Joe. I'm going to go ahead and say it," Obama told the 1,700-plus party members who gathered in a ballroom at the Connecticut Convention Center for the $175-per-head fundraiser.
"I am absolutely certain Connecticut is going to have the good sense to send Joe Lieberman back to the U.S. Senate so he can continue to serve on our behalf," he said.
I’m not sure what good it does Barack Obama to support Lieberman, nor the Democratic Party to support Lieberman anymore, when he’s more interested in supporting the Bush administration and conservative bullshit like hospital conscience clauses. The only one who benefits is Joe Lieberman, and, frankly, he doesn’t deserve it.
burnt cheese and screaming cock
Shakes recently posted about a couple fish bearing Arabic inscriptions. Apparently that is how god shows up in common items in the Muslim sphere:
A cockerel in the Central Asian republic of Kyrgyzstan has saved itself from the pot after crowing what its owner claimed was "Allah", the Arabic word for God.
The two-year-old rooster was set to be turned into chicken soup after its owner, Ibragim Ismatullayev, found it to be extremely aggressive.
However, Mr Ismatullayev has said that as he put the knife to the cockerel's neck, the bird "screamed" and, on hearing this, his five-year-old son said "dad, it's saying 'Allah, Allah'."
[insert impolite cock joke here]
Anyway, animals calling for Allah isn't a new thing:
Firdevs Robinson, editor of the BBC's Central Asian service, said that stories of this sort quite frequently came out of Central Asia.
She told BBC World Service's Reporting Religion programme that a lion in Azerbaijan was said to have roared the word "Allah" every time the call to prayer was issued.
What I find amusing and interesting are the differences in 'revelation' between the religions. Burnt cheese and plaster vs. a roaring lion and 'screaming' cock.
(if you tilt it, squint your eyes, and dim the lights...it looks like a cross-post)
Friday Blogwhoring
What's happening, cats?
Well, I finally feel as if I may tentatively be able to rejoin the land of the living today. If nothing else, the raging fever seems to be abating, which has left me free of the constantly alternating burn-alive/shiver scenario, so I have less compulsion to drive a screwdriver into my own temple.
Thanks for your kind words and suggestions, everyone. I'm nursing my Gatorade (which was the best we could get at the closest shop) and currently enjoying the lovely breeze coming in through the window, which is so refreshing that I would swear it has healing properties. Perhaps by next week, I'll actually be able to eat again!
Cult Movie Quiz: The Answering
Some were guessed right away; some left you stumped. Cookies and juice for everyone!
1. Invasion of the Body Snatchers- (The original, natch.) This seemed to be the one that everyone knew immediately. It's just one of those classic lines from 50's sci-fi, along with "Keep watching the skies!" (By the way, if you've never read the book, I highly recommend it.)
2. All About Eve- Also quoted in the extremely bizarre Dr. Caligari from the 80's.
3. Blood Feast- Have you ever had.... an Egyptian Feast?? If you can handle a little gore... well, okay, a lot of gore (although some of it does look pretty fake), rent this puppy and laugh yourself sick. You haven't seen bad acting until you've seen this movie. The brilliant Liz has an excellent review over at her b-movie site, And You Call Yourself a Scientist! Also highly recommended.
4. The Abominable Dr. Phibes- I think I have to have at least one Vincent Price movie in each of these.
5. The Leech Woman- Nastiest. Husband. Evah!
6. Female Trouble- Starring the one and only Divine, pictured above. In this film, her philosophy is "Crime is Beauty." She also "has sex with herself," playing a woman and a man in the same scene. (!) I was very tempted to use the "Nice girls don't wear cha-cha heels, Dawn!" line, but I figured that would be too easy. Right?
7. Reefer Madness- "Play it faster! Play it faster!"
8. The Omen- You've got to see this one, just to hear Richard Burton say "Eeeeeeeeevil!"
9. Abbott and Costello Meet the Killer- Boris Karloff as the killer. Big surprise, huh? I thought that this one was the most difficult/obscure one on the list.
10. Who Framed Roger Rabbit?- I don't know if this qualifies as a "cult" film (well, I think it does), but I just love that line.
Well Shakers, did you enjoy this? Should I continue to cross-post this game over here?
Science!!
Study: Praying Won't Affect Heart Patients
NEW YORK - In the largest study of its kind, researchers found that having people pray for heart bypass surgery patients had no effect on their recovery. In fact, patients who knew they were being prayed for had a slightly higher rate of complications.
Researchers emphasized that their work can't address whether God exists or answers prayers made on another's behalf. The study can only look for an effect from prayers offered as part of the research, they said.
They also said they had no explanation for the higher complication rate in patients who knew they were being prayed for, in comparison to patients who only knew it was possible prayers were being said for them.
Zuh?
Dr. Harold G. Koenig, director of the Center for Spirituality, Theology and Health at the Duke University Medical Center, who didn't take part in the study, said the results didn't surprise him.
"There are no scientific grounds to expect a result and there are no real theological grounds to expect a result either," he said. "There is no god in either the Christian, Jewish or Moslem scriptures that can be constrained to the point that they can be predicted."
Within the Christian tradition, God would be expected to be concerned with a person's eternal salvation, he said, and "why would God change his plans for a particular person just because they're in a research study?"
Science, he said, "is not designed to study the supernatural."
Okay, I happen to be taking a course in research at the moment, so this caught my eye. And the one thing that leapt to my mind was "Who in the world paid for this?" (Yeah, I know, the Templeton Foundation. I can only assume that the people holding the purse strings over there are a bunch of knuckleheads.)
What exactly is the purpose of this study? I mean, I can understand trying a study to test and see if knowing that someone is praying for you will have a positive effect on your recovery... but that to me would be more of a psychological study. This... this just seems to be a weird attempt to "test prayer." Either that, or it's a pointlessly expensive way to make the intelligent design bozos look ridiculous.
I mean, come on guys... haven't you got the True Believers in enough of a snit lately?
To anyone from the Templeton Foundation that may be reading this: I have an excellent idea for a study. I'd like to see if quitting my job and being paid by you to play video games and read books all day will have any affect on my hair growth. Ru$h an e-mail me$$age to me if you're intere$ted in di$cu$$ing thi$.
(From my heart and from my hand, why don't people understand my cross-posts?)
Thursday's "Name That Cult Movie" Quiz!
(Cross-posted, because after my hiatus, I doubt anyone will be playing over in Spudville!) Leave your guesses in comments! Remember, every time you cheat with the IMDB, God kills a cute baby duck.
1. "They're here! They're here already! You're next! You're next!!
2. "You're maudlin and full of self pity. You're magnificent!"
3. "Well, Frank... this looks like one of those long, hard ones!"
4. Sgt.: "Well I have discovered they all have one thing in common."
Inspector: "If you say they've all died mysteriously I'll bloody kill you!"
5. "It's interesting to watch a "bottle baby" defend her weakness. One thing I can say for you, your approach is always different. Today, it's complete submission. I can't even get a rise out of you. You know, I think I like you better when you're sloppy drunk and violent. That's the real you, and that's the one I like, the one that hates me and gives me a chance to hate back."
6. Wink: "I'm getting a hard-on! Beauty always gives me a hard-on!"
Donna: "Aim it the other way then, Wink. You know how I detest organs. Beauty has absolutely nothing to do with that WORD, that THING you have hanging there like an obscene pickle. Spare me your anatomy."
7. "Failing this, the next tragedy may be that of your daughter's... or your son's... or yours... or yours...(points directly into camera) or yours!
8. "Wrong? What could be wrong with our child, Robert? We're the beautiful people, aren't we?" (No, it's not Barbara Bush)
9. "You're going to commit suicide if it's the last thing you do!"
10. "Yeah, check the probate! You know, my Uncle Thumper, he had a problem with his probate... and he had to take these biiiig pills, and drink lots of water!"
"Not prostate, you idiot, probate!!"
Question of The Day (You're Cycling to Work Edition)
If the United States or Israel take preemptive military action against Iran's nuclear research facilities, how much do you think it will then cost you to buy a gallon of gas at the pump?
I'm guessing we could get up to $8 easily, and that's if Iran doesn't decide to close the spigot.
things the baby is doing, and other things, too.
This morning we ate breakfast at an outdoor cafe near my house and she gave some baby sparrows the mad Cheerios hook-ups, yo, to her great amusement. There was a guy at the table next to us wearing a t-shirt that said "I Gave My Word to Stop at Third." He was also wearing a blue bandana. I was like, dude, just because you're a virgin doesn't mean you have to wear that bandana.
She's located a wicker basket that holds magazines, and keeps trying to climb inside it. This is very cute in a mail-order-baby sort of way, but I had to stop her because she might tip over and hit her head. I've moved the basket and given her the Pottery Barn catalogue, which she's currently ripping to shreds.
Now she's stalking the dog. Poor dog. Dog finds comfortable place to lie, baby crawls over and bops nose/ pulls fur/ tries to 'play,' dog gets up and moves, repeat repeat repeat until dog gives up and leaves room.
Her new favorite sound is the screeching monkey noise, which I am proud to say I can make pretty darn well. When executed correctly, it elicits many a giggle. I'm also experimenting with "no," and just now she tried to grab a power cord and I gave a "no!" and a stern look and she almost jumped out of her onesie. Success! I think. For now.
We make Tart's job easier, and we're tasty too! Try us with vanilla soymilk! It sounds gross but it ain't!
"I'm not dead yet!"
But I'm close.
Mr. Shakes now believes we have cholera. I'm thinking ebola, because since I haven't eaten anything in almost two days, it can only be my own liquified liver I'm puking up at this point.
Either that, or a small alien will burst out of my gut any moment. If it happens, I'll try to get pictures. It should make a great "Caption This Photo."
Until then, I'm going back to bed. I never thought it was possible to sleep for almost 36 solid hours and still need more sleep, but, apparently, it is.
A Shaft of Light Breaks Through the Murk
Journalist Released Unharmed in Iraq
BAGHDAD, Iraq - American reporter Jill Carroll was set free Thursday, nearly three months after she was kidnapped in a bloody ambush that killed her translator. She said she had been treated well.
Carroll, 28, was dropped off near the Iraqi Islamic Party offices. She walked inside, and people there called American officials, Iraqi police said.
"I was treated well, but I don't know why I was kidnapped," Carroll said in a brief interview on Baghdad television.
Her family thanked "the generous people around the world who worked officially or unofficially" to gain her freedom. No details were given about the circumstances surrounding her release. The U.S. ambassador said there was no ransom paid by the American embassy, but his remarks left open the question of whether "arrangements" were made by others.
Excellent. The other part of this story that really fills me with hope is that at no time was Carroll tortured or abused. Of course, you could always argue that keeping someone against their will is torture enough... but I'd much rather have that than "frat pranks" like waterboarding or being attacked by dogs.
The previously unknown Revenge Brigades claimed responsibility. Even though the group threatened twice in videotapes to kill Carroll, she said, "They never hit me. They never even threatened to hit me."Treated humanely by her captors. What is this world coming to?
The Italian news agency ANSA reported that Carroll underwent a medical checkup at the American hospital in the Green Zone.
During the TV interview, Carroll wore a light green Islamic headscarf and a gray Arabic robe.
"I'm just happy to be free. I want to be with my family," she was heard to say under the Arabic voiceover.
Carroll said she was kept in a furnished room with a window and a shower, but she did not know where she was.
"I felt I was not free. It was difficult because I didn't know what would happen to me," she said.
She said she was allowed to watch TV once and read a newspaper once.
Asked about the circumstances of her release, she said, "They just came to me and said we're going. They didn't tell me what was going on."
I'm sure Rove and his team of spinning elves will somehow mutate this story into a tale of daring rescue wherein Dubya himself dives out of a helicopter with nothing but a bowie knife clenched between his teeth to single-handedly rescue Carroll by... oh... sometime this afternoon.
In the meantime, welcome home, Jill. A spot of sanity in this war is something we all need at this point.
UPDATE: The Wingnuts have begun shrieking "Stockholm Syndrome!" You'd think these scumbags would be a little more happy to hear about some of the "good news from Iraq" that they've been whining about.
Oh, excuse me, I'm sorry... "good news" that matches their twisted agenda.
My mistake.
(Energy Dome tip to The Green Knight.)
(Good morning, cross-post, the earth says hello!)
All Politics is Personal
Couple years ago when I was a proto-blogger in the then largely conservative blogosphere I spoke my mind about the War in Iraq. I said it was a terrible idea, destined to be a quagmire, and there would be unintended consequences out the wah-zoo.
I had a friend at that point whom I had known for more than ten years, someone whose politics had drifted rightward along with the rest of the nation's after 9/11. We started blogging at the same time and while she was snatched up and adored by the popular right-wingers of the day, I was dismissed as a crackpot, a Whiny Liberal, and ultimately a Treasonous Traitor for "Not Supporting the Troops".
Said friend stood off to the side in a number of incidents where right wingers would pile on, taking me to task in my comments section for questioning The Leader, calling me a coward and a faggot, and then freeping their slimy way back to their own blogs. She picked a fight with my twin on his blog, called him a Maoist and a sell-out to the terrorists, and impugned his choice of career.
After cutting her hundreds of feet of slack, the final blow came when I criticized one of her Nazi Blogfriends for wishing death upon the Dixie Chicks. Said Nazi Blogfriend downed a gallon of vodka and went on a slash-and-burn mission. I got some very nasty emails. She used her blog to cast aspersions on my character and writing ability. She tried to launch a campaign of harrassment with other right-wing bloggers. My friend? Silent. Then she went to visit Nazi Blogfriend in Hawaii.
And that pretty much tore it. Our communications became fewer and far between. I prize loyalty very highly in friendships and would never sell out a dear old friend for the sake of some flashy new connections. At any rate, I think Nazi Blogfriend burned my friend rather badly in the end, which was pretty much what she deserved.
Well, a couple nights ago, I came home to find a message from Former Friend on my answering machine. She's been wondering how I'm doing and wants to catch up, see how things are going. I don't think she knows that I'm blogging here, now, but that's pretty much beside the point.
Is is unreasonable of me to want nothing further to do with this person? Not just because of the slights to me, but because of her aiding and abetting the echo chamber that led to the War in Iraq, for cozying up to people I genuinely believe are evil and dangerous, and for trashing the values and principles I hold dear. AND getting pissy with my twin.
Natalie Maines, I'm Not Ready to Make Nice, either. So, if you were me, would you contact this person with a You Are Dead to Me email to take her to task for supporting the Reich Wing and this criminal administration? Or just ignore her? What would you do?
(cross-posted for the folks back home)
Abramoff Gets Five Years, 10 Months
Which will probably be whittled and whittled away to a slap on the wrist. I'm still kinda flabbergasted... actual jail time? Wowzers.
MIAMI - Once high-flying lobbyist Jack Abramoff was sentenced Wednesday to nearly six years in prison for fraud in the 2000 purchase of a fleet of gambling boats, but he will remain free for at least three months to assist in a corruption investigation involving Congress and the Bush administration.
U.S. District Judge Paul C. Huck imposed identical sentences of five years and 10 months on Abramoff and Adam Kidan, his former partner in the ill-fated purchase of SunCruz Casinos in 2000. It was the minimum sentence recommended under federal guidelines.
Huck agreed to postpone prison reporting dates for both men to allow them to continue cooperating in an investigation of the broad Washington corruption scandal and also a probe into the 2001 killing in Fort Lauderdale of former SunCruz owner Konstantinos "Gus" Boulis. Both deny having any role in the death.
The minimum sentence. Gee, what a shock.
(Tip 'o the Energy Dome to Talk Left.)
Who Is to Blame?
Really, though. Whose fault is it exactly that the War in Iraq has turned out badly? The media? The Preznint? The Congress? Halliburton? Those traitorous, treasonous liberals? Nope. All wrong.
Whose fault is it? Yours, you asshole. You hurt its feelings.
Like right after the invasion when the rioting started up, you coulda been all supportive an said “Hey war, it’s alright, somebody just stole 380 tons of high-grade explosives from me last week too!” That coulda made the war feel a lot more positive about itself. Or when the Abu Ghraib scandals broke you coulda looked on the bright side an gone “Hey, you’re lookin less torturey than you used to!” Or when the civil war started you coulda said “Y’know what, you look pretty good in a civil war, this could be a whole new you.”It's true, you heartless bastards. YOU did this! You're the ones who brought it into this world and then immediately started trying to pretend it wasn't there. You just had to go out and party with Jonah Goldberg and Kathryn-Jean Lopez and leave your little war at home all by itself. No wonder it started playing with IED's.
Instead all the war ever hears is “this is a bad war, let’s get away from this war, I wish this war was never born!” And how do you think that makes the war feel? It feels sad and unloved. It looks up at older wars like the Revolutionary War and World War II and That Time We Blew Up Grenada and thinks “How come they love those wars more than me?” It loses concentration in school. It starts hangin out with bad influences like Vietnam. It’s not even keepin in shape anymore. I saw the war walkin down the street the other day an it was thirty pounds overweight, stinkin of booze and covered with torture camps and death squads.
Last year the war had a birthday an nobody even gave it cake. The war just sat in an empty little room with the editorial staff a The Weekly Standard singin “Happy Birthday to me” real quietlike an tryin to hold back the tears. Well I’m not gonna let that happen this year! This year we’re gonna be there with party hats an ice cream an everything so the war can get it’s self esteem back an feel like it can grow up to be anything it wants to be! Come and bring a present! This year the war would like a new bicycle, a gift certificate or an exit strategy.It's not too late. You could make one little war very happy. It just takes a little of your time to make a big difference in a war's life. Don't wait until it's too late.
(All hail Fafblog for this one.)
The "It's Clinton's fault" defense (an Iraq variation)
George Bush and his cronies know the drill: when things aren't going well, blame the last guy in power. So after years of practice faulting the previous officeholder regarding American woes ranging from the economy to national defense, Bush now has no trouble taking a similar tack when it comes to Iraq:
President Bush said Wednesday that Saddam Hussein, not continued U.S. involvement in Iraq, is responsible for ongoing sectarian violence that is threatening the formation of a democratic government. [...]
Bush said that Saddam was a tyrant and used violence to exacerbate sectarian divisions to keep himself in power, and that as a result, deep tensions persist to this day.
Of course, this is the same war president who couldn't see the danger of those same festering "sectarian divisions" from a hundred miles away:
He predicted it "was unlikely there would be internecine warfare between the different religious and ethnic groups" - an opinion with which Mr Blair agreed.
So much for this cover story.
Forget foresight: In conveniently forgetting his culpability in not seeing sectarian danger in Iraq, Bush demonstrates that he doesn't even have 20/20 hindsight.
(Mmmm. Hot cross-post buns.)
quote of the day
"Today, a young man on acid realised that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration, that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves... here's Tom with the weather."
-Bill Hicks
Running Away and Back Again
It is beautiful outside today, too beautiful. Because it is a Wednesday, and because I am a grownup with a list of things I’m supposed to accomplish, I keep turning my head away from the raging glitterfest that’s going on outside my window.
A soft breeze has the jasmine leaves fluttering; two small butterflies hop and dart: this flower, no this one. Sunbeams keep swirling around on the quiet greenery—there’s all this distracting sparkling going on, and working at my desk seems a tragically leaden, light-deprived activity for such an ethereally lovely day. I would liken the feeling to the dread I face when having to do something quotidian and unavoidable: if milk and eggs and laundry soap are in short supply, for example, it means Off I go to the dull old supermarket; add to this that on days like today, doing so requires me to stare straight ahead and march past a jewelry store window full of emerald bracelets.
“I want to say, To Hell with it, let’s go to the beach,” I grumble into the phone.
“Yeah, it would be nice…” my husband said, distracted too. He’s not really listening to me, and I know this because he never normally uses neutral words like nice, okay, or fine. Never. Not unless he’s concurrently reading an email, sautéing tomatoes, or stretching out a tight hamstring. Right now, I would not be surprised if he were doing all three, in addition to talking to me.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Just over here, making some lunch.” (Aha.)
I say goodbye and think about my own lunch for a moment. You know, I do need to eat something. I could easily take a little outdoor break, head for the patio with a cup of tea and a tomato sandwich. Yes! That’s what I’ll do. Perhaps I’ll put on a swimsuit top and get a little sun on my shoulders. I’ll need my straw hat, too, and the sunblock and big old glasses. Might as well read a page or two while I’m out there. And take my iPod, which needs charging, so I’ll do that while I make my sandwich and tea.
My desk, which also serves as my office and meditation room, is in the corner of our little living room and is hardly an austere environment: its surface is festooned with the boys’ art projects as well as several unstable stacks of mail, magazines, and paperwork, any one of which my boy Marley could send southward with the flick of a mischievous paw. And as I walk to the kitchen, feeling guilty once again, I turn and look at my dark little desk in its shady little spot, feigning, for no-one’s benefit but my own, a soupcon of concern for that which I am about to abandon for a while. I ought to feel the way a grownup is supposed to feel, which is to say, obligated. But I don’t want to. Not really. Not today.
In my house, now as always, the urge to flee for the open air kicks in around the same time every year. The breeze is still quite cool, but its bite is offset by the sun hitting a certain level in the sky with no clouds obscuring it. This results in a delicious contrast, something like having warm strawberry tart with a mound of cold whipped cream alongside it, or stretching out in a freshly-changed bed, feeling the pleasant snowflake-chill of sheets landing on your skin as a purring heat-bomb of a cat curls up against your ribcage. Take this intoxicating mix of sensual treats, throw in some visual lures like skittering sunbeams and fluttering leaves, garnish with a general sense of frustration with the here and now embodied in the growing To Do lists stacked up in my head like so many planes circling in the skies above Miami International, and here you go: one full-blown serving of Spring Fever, coming up.
When suffering a fit of pique, umbrage, or ennui—or, as author Ursula LeGuin called them, the French diseases of the soul—I usually like to lace up my trainers and run away from it all. I started doing this about a year ago, when the depression I’ve suffered on and off since my teenage years had taken especially fierce hold one evening. It had been a typical day of ups and downs with the boys, and if anyone were to ask me what was making me so sad right then, I doubt I could have answered him. To put it in general terms, I felt a non-specific, pervasive sense of doom. More pointedly, I wanted nothing more than to find a dark corner of the garage in which to curl up, and then I’d weep and wail until every foul, tragic little demon, every terrifying image of rope or rooftop or fistful of pills, was purged once and for all.
So that is what I did. I got the children bathed and kissed them goodnight, and I went into the garage, more accurately known as the overflow storage room. I crawled behind a tower of Rubbermaid boxes and cried so hard, I thought my heart might explode. I didn’t feel better, so I kept on; I became a perpetual emotion machine of wailing and guttural sobs that gave way to raspiness and croaking as I lost my voice against the soaked knees of my jeans.
“Have you lost your mind?” my husband was demanding from the doorway. “What is wrong? What on earth is the matter?”
And I thought, I can’t begin to tell you. I can’t even begin. I said nothing and kept crying.
Because I couldn’t point to anything in particular that was wrong. It was as if each sad thought, each bittersweet memory, regretted moment, rued relationship, and heartbreaking loss residing in my mind suddenly joined hands and started inviting all the other bits of my brain to come to the wake. The sorrow was overwhelming, like a vicious flash flood, and I was completely caught up in its currents.
And this was not the first or even the fortieth time, alas.
“Listen. You need help. Either get a doctor, or get a lawyer.”
Tough love and tough words, neither of which I have ever responded to very well in my semi-long life. I stayed put, and eventually, I hauled my exhausted self back through the door and into the kitchen, where the light was still on, along with the dishwasher. At least there was that: a clean kitchen. And a sleeping family. I sat on the sofa and waited for my own slumber, but it never came.
The boys’ doctor had been telling me to exercise. “There’s nothing wrong with anti-depressants, Deborah; with the modern ones, you can even take them for a while just to get through this difficult phase,” he said. Difficult phase. To my mind, the whole thing, the entire “phase” known as Life in These Times struck me as difficult, to use a woefully weak adjective. “There aren’t as many negative side effects to them, and I think you ought to talk to your doctor about giving them a try.” He’s assuming I ever find time to make appointments for myself, much less keep them. “But try doing this,” he continued, “Go outdoors tomorrow and run for a little while. Or take a long walk. Do this four or five times a week.”
The next day, I pulled out a pair of running shoes I’d bought months earlier and to date had only worn when traveling (they don’t set off the metal detectors). I dug through one of my husband’s drawers and found a pair of long, voluminous nylon basketball shorts—there was no way I’d be seen dead in short-shorts, not while actually moving—and an old Rolling Stones t-shirt. I hid my house keys under some shrubbery and off I went. Two blocks later (and by block I mean four houses, tops), I folded over like a human paperclip and threw up in my neighbor’s front garden. This is supposed to make you feel better? I thought.
The next day, I gave it another try. I made it to the previous day’s Vomit Point, glanced around to see if there were any horrified faces peering through windows, any small children running in the opposite direction having been warned about the Scary Throw-up Girl in the baggy hip-hop outfit, and managed to run for two more blocks before the stabbing pain in my side grew unbearable. I walked to the half-mile point I’d ambitiously predetermined using my car’s odometer, and walked back. I had just traveled an entire mile by foot—four blocks of which I’d actually run—and there had been no vomiting whatsoever.
Nothing exceeds like excess.
“How’d you do today?” asked my husband.
“I made it past Holli’s old house and walked all the way to the bridge and back,” I said proudly. In order to have an idea of the sort of accomplishment this was (in my estimation anyway), please know this: I have never, ever been any good at any sport or physical activity whatsoever.
Ballet, modern dance, jazz…those are the things that have always moved me, so to speak. That’s what I loved, that’s all I loved: dancing and tree-climbing, both of which are nothing short of deliriously enjoyable; neither of which are doable when you live surrounded by palm trees and a non-dancing husband. If it requires running, swinging a bat, or ball-throwing, count me out, or do as my classmates always did: choose me last.
Eventually, I ran a whole mile. Then I ran up a monstrous cell-phone bill calling everyone I knew to brag about it. A few weeks after that, I ordered myself a little iPod and a neoprene armband. Then I learned how to download songs onto it, nice thumpy songs with rhythm that helped me keep moving. Songs that let my mind drift ever further from the dark weight I’d been clinging to like a boulder because even as I fell off the cliff and plummeted, holding on to something felt better, or at least, more familiar to me, than letting go and floating.
So instead of lying in the sun, I run this morning. Run first, then you can blow off everything else and not feel quite as guilty, I lie to myself, knowing I’ll never make it to the swimsuit drawer, much less the sunny patio; there aren’t enough hours in a day.
I set my iPod to a random mix, Serve me what symphonies you will, O Tiny Electronic Goddess, and I will run to them. I run past the bayou, breathing through my mouth because when the tide is low, it gets a bit smelly there. Guns-n-Roses welcomes me to the jungle as pelicans hover over the water; Public Enemy cheers me over the bridge; David Bowie whispers in my ear as other runners wave at me, pretending to care as I pretend to care in return (I mean, get back to me later, everyone—David Bowie is whispering in my ear!).
I imagine myself as the most clever copywriter ever. In fact, I’ll email the running shoe company the minute I get home:
Dear Sirs,
Here is your new slogan: New Balance, for Your New Balance.
You’re Welcome.
Sincerely, Deborah
I love the random associations afforded by this selfish sliver of aloneness and indulgence, this interlude of actual running away from it all that has, I believe, saved my life.
What's best, though, is the joy—extraordinary in its ordinariness—that I feel when I'm outside in the light, in the world; I am moving my limbs, breathing the crisp air, and appreciating the gift of being alive. Later today, I won’t be quite as irritable when someone plasters peanut butter all over the countertop or throws a magazine at his brother or fumes about missing a favorite show because he has a project due tomorrow. When I return to my house after three or four miles, I’ll be better equipped to mount some sort of attack against the dragons and dustbunnies therein. And I’ll sit at my desk and draw new inspiration from the bouncing butterflies of distraction that meant no harm in the first place.
(Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy...)
Wednesday Blogwhoring
What’s the word?
Check out this wrap-up of The War on Christians conference. Sounds like a blast!
Mr. Shakes has spent the last three days with the most heinous stomach flu I’ve ever seen, and now I seem to have come down with it, so I’m going to go curl up on the couch and feel miserable. Meh.
LOL!!!
RNC Memo Warns GOPers Not To Distance Themselves From Bush
Republican pollster Jan van Lohuizen, in a memo written for RNC chairman Ken Mehlman, warns that if members of Congress try to drive a wedge between themselves and Pres. Bush, it'd be akin to adding weight to an anchor. GOPers are "W Brand Republicans" whether they like it or not.Whether they like it or not?! You’ve got to be kidding me. They’ve gleefully hitched themselves to his bandwagon for the past five bloody years! It’s not as though they’ve been futilely resisting his utter decimation of traditional conservative principles—they are the majority party who has been aiding and abetting his criminal enterprise every step of the way. And now that whatever stupor enthralled American voters, and made voting for Captain Incompetence seem like a good idea, is wearing off, the MeToos want to moan about how they don’t want to be “W Brand Republicans” anymore? Tough titties!
The President is seen universally as the face of the Republican Party… President Bush drives our image and will do so until we have real national front-runners for the '08 nomination. Attacking the President is counter productive for all Republicans, not just the candidates launching the attacks. If he drops, we all drop.In other words, you’re stuck with him. As well you should be.
Wrap your arms around your deadweight of a party anchor and sink into the muck with him, you pricks. Glug, glug, glug…
Via Memeorandum.
Reason #1,386,942 to Support Legalized Abortion
(And not support parental notification restrictions.)
Father of the Year:
A 55-year-old Lawrenceville man has been charged with raping and impregnating his 16-year-old daughter, and with raping his 19-year-old mentally disabled stepdaughter…Please note this scenario does not meet the parameters for abortion as laid out by infamous South Dakota legislator Bill Napoli, who would support the termination of the incestuous pregnancy only if the 16-year-old had been “brutally raped, savaged. The girl was a virgin. She was religious. She planned on saving her virginity until she was married. She was brutalized and raped, sodomized as bad as you can possibly make it, and is impregnated.” Since the abuse had been going on for several years, the girl probably wasn’t a virgin, and doesn’t appear to have been “savaged” or “sodomized as bad as you can possibly make it.” She may be religious, and is definitely impregnated, but having the bad luck of carrying her father’s spawn instead of an unknown but brutal rapist, she doesn’t deserve access to an abortion, should she want it. Luckily, she lives in Georgia, where women are still vaguely autonomous creatures and Bill Napoli isn’t in charge of determining what’s best for their bodies and lives.
The matter became a case for the Special Victims Unit of the Gwinnett Police Department after Connelly's estranged wife took their 16-year-old daughter to a hospital. After tests confirmed the girl's pregnancy, she stated that she had been sexually assaulted by her father, according to GPD spokesman Cpl. Darren Moloney.
The investigation revealed that Connelly may have also molested his stepdaughter and that the abuse had been going on for several years, Moloney said. In 2002, Connelly was charged with battery, but Moloney said the disposition of that charge was not available.
The 19-year-old is not pregnant, but she is both mentally and physically disabled.
America 2.0
A woman in Georgia was pulled over and ticketed for having a bumper sticker on her car that read I'm Tired Of All The BUSH—. Except, you know, there wasn’t a dash.
The officer "said DeKalb had an ordinance about lewd decals and wrote me a ticket" for $100, said Grier, an oncology nurse at Emory University Hospital who lives in Athens.Denise Grier, I present you with the Shakespeare’s Sister Golden Balls Award.
Grier said she thanked the officer — and vowed to see him in court.
"This is all about free speech," Grier said in a telephone interview Monday. "The officer pulled me over because he didn't agree with my politics. That's what this is about, not whether I support Bush, not because of the war in Iraq, but about my right to free speech."
…Grier, 47, the mother of four grown sons, is due in Recorder's Court on April 18. She has not removed the bumper sticker in question, or six other mostly politically oriented decals on her car. "I used to think that one person could not make a difference," said Grier. "Now I'm beginning to think one person can, and should. We shouldn't be afraid to stand up for what we believe in."
Your Guy Fawkes mask is in the mail.
Tart, Start Your Engine
The Bespectacled One has beat CNN for the first time in the much sought-after 25-54 demographic.
"This marks MSNBC's first quarterly primetime victory over CNN in the demo in almost five years (2Q01 MSNBC Investigates beat CNN at 8 p.m. ET)," MSNBC's press release said today.K.O.’s ratings are up 41%. O’Reilly the Scumsucker is still in the lead, but his viewership in the same demo is down 24%. Wah wah wah.
Networks take note. There’s a market for liberals.
Via Crooks & Liars.
The Truth is Out There
Alert! Alert! If any of you are interested, I will have a minute and a half spot on the radio news (just in my town) about my interview with Dr. Don Francis, the Francis Crick of the fight against HIV. If any of you have read And the Band Played On by Randy Shilts, you will recognize Dr. Francis's name.
So, fire up your non-Mozilla browser and go here at 5:34 eastern time. Dr. Francis blasts conservatives and their magical thinking about HIV and says that public health is too urgent a concern to be vulnerable to the whims of elected officials and their religious agendas.
There was some question of getting the interview past my higher-ups, considering the incendiary nature of Dr. Francis's statements (He used the I-word!), but I have been given the all-clear and we will roll at 17:34 hours. Don't blink. You'll miss it. It's only 90 seconds long.
(I caught you a delicious cross-post.)
gay sex: morally wrong, or just really gross?
The Soulforce Equality Riders, a group of young gay Christian activists, is currently touring the country, stopping at conservative universities and military schools that discriminate against homosexual behavior, encouraging gay students to come out and administrators to reconsider anti-gay policies. In other words, they totally kick ass. But maybe I only think that because I've accepted my status as a marginalized, put-upon straight white female in an increasingly scary world filled with sodomy and vibrating leather rainbow condoms. You know, like this guy:
"They're trying to talk about how being gay is justified in the Bible," said Lee Goggin, 23, a senior wearing a STRAIGHT PRIDE T shirt. "I think the majority of students here believe that's not how it is."
Kind of reminds me of a conversation I overheard at a sandwich shop the other day:
Woman: I mean, I don't care what they do, it's their life, but they don't have to shove it in your face. I was at Barnes and Noble last night, and there were these two gay guys, and they were, like, being so loud about it. It's like, you don't have to shove it in people's faces.
Sandwich Maker Guy: Yeah, I mean, we grew up in the eighties. We're just not used to that stuff.
Well, on second thought, maybe Dumbass Huntington Beach Resident #452,586 has a point. Maybe you guys could at least try to keep it the fuck down. I'm trying to make vaginal love to my spouse over here with the hope that we may produce offspring, for heaven's sake! After all, what year do you think this is, 2034? You should feel lucky we're not putting you in internment camps right now!
Crazy loud gay crazies...
Quote of the Day
President Bush, today, after a meeting with his Cabinet:
We talked about a war on terror that requires all of us involved in government to respond and to protect America and help spread freedom…Sorry—which country is he talking about? What leader? Who is it that exploits ethnic and religious diversity by setting communities against one another? The extensions of whose regime are trying to set off a civil war rooted in religious differences?
Tomorrow I'm going to deliver a third in a series of speeches about the situation in Iraq. During Saddam Hussein's brutal rule he exploited the ethnic and religious diversity of Iraq by setting communities against one another. And now the terrorists and former regime elements are doing the same -- they're trying to set off a civil war through acts of sectarian violence.
Go on and give your speech about the escalating violence in Iraq, while you continue to ignore the signs that we’re on the same road to hell here at home, while prominent members of your own party sign up to give keynote addresses at conferences like “The War on Christians.” Your selective apathy toward radical factions that serve your agenda continues to be, as has it ever been, a splendid idea. Wanker.
I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and, doggone it, people like me!
In a post titled Electable, Mannion comes to a conclusion about which he’s decidedly unenthusiastic: Hillary is “the one.”
Dammit to hell; Hillary can’t get us out of The Matrix! But that’s the thing about electability—being electable doesn’t mean you’re necessarily a great leader. See: Bush, George W.
Suffice it to say, I don’t think Mannion’s wrong, although I wish he were. Feingold comes across very well on television to me; Mr. Shakes recently heard some people, who agree with Feingold’s politics, saying he strikes them as a “used car salesman.” This proves (once again), if nothing else, that I experience the world in a minor key, and I’ve never managed to hear the melody everyone else seems to. I always thought Gore was funny and likable, too, so what do I know?
Then again, who knows what catastrophes the bumbling Bush will manage to create in the next two and a half years. The terrain may yet change.
And I don’t think Hillary would be a terrible president, just not the one I’d want. It seems unfair we’d have to settle after eight years of this mess. But no one ever said life was fair, eh?
McCain 
Falwell
You know those formulaic romantic comedies where the two protagonists start out hating each other, lobbing invectives and rolling their eyes, storming off in huffs and swearing how much they despise one another, until, eventually, they realize they are perfect complements and then they fall head over heels in love?
This is one of those stories.
It’s about a feisty POW named John and a crackpot preacher named Jerry. When they first met, John called Jerry “an agent of intolerance” who exerts an "evil influence" over the GOP. Jerry sniffed that John was just a Republican in sheep’s clothing. But soon, the passion of their feuding began to fuel the flames of love, and now it’s only a matter of time before John’s sporting a glimmering rock on his left hand. In fact, if a little plot device known as the Surprise Engagement at the Big Event doesn’t play out when John speaks at Jerry’s university’s graduation, this just won’t be the perfect wee drip of romantic treacle it’s been shaping up to be.
[McCain]…will be Liberty University’s graduation speaker on May 13.Ahh, true love. And in the true mold of such familiar confections, there’s going to be one last twist before the Happily Ever After. Jerry says that John has reversed his position and is now willing to support a Federal Marriage Amendment. The issue is, of course, near and dear to their respective constituencies, but what does it mean for their future?! Will they choose service over love? Oh, how will it end?! I can’t wait… Somebody get me some popcorn.
McCain’s visit to the LU campus is, at the very least, an attempt to make peace with conservative Christians prior to the presidential campaign.
While running against then- Gov. George W. Bush in the South Carolina and Virginia primaries in 2000, McCain denounced Falwell and Virginia Beach televangelist Pat Robertson in what was seen as a move to lure more moderate voters to his campaign.
“Neither party should be defined by pandering to the outer reaches of American politics and the agents of intolerance, whether they be Louis Farrakhan or Al Sharpton on the left or Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell on the right,” McCain said at the time.
McCain lost the Virginia and South Carolina primaries and Bush won the nomination…
“He is in the process of healing the breech with evangelical groups,” Falwell said…
Aside from their political skirmishes, Falwell said McCain is an authentic American hero.
“On this, everybody agrees,” he said.
(Hat tip to Griffin.)
Card Resigns
White House Chief of Staff Andrew Card has resigned. Joshua Bolten, the director of the Office of Management and Budget, will take his place.
Bush described his new chief of staff as a creative thinker and a strong advocate for accountability and effective management in the federal government.Wev, wev, and more wev. If Bolten was genuinely a “strong advocate for accountability and effective management in the federal government,” the last job he’d take is Chief of Staff for Bush.
"He is a man of candor and humor and directness, who is comfortable with responsibility and knows how to lead," Bush said.
More about Bolten from Slate, Nov. 2001 (via Mahablog):
Josh Bolten is the White House’s deputy chief of staff for policy. That makes him the president’s chief domestic policy adviser, and since Sept. 11 he has headed the White House’s new “domestic consequences group” that has developed post-attack legislation such as the airline bailout and the stimulus package. The New Republic’s Ryan Lizza calls him “increasingly powerful” and “the anonymous fourth man in the inner circle of Bush’s staff” (after Andy Card, Karl Rove, and Karen Hughes). U.S. News says he has emerged after the terrorist attacks as Bush’s “chief economic architect,” and the Washington Post says Bolten “has a quiet hand in all domestic policy and international economic policy.”Also from FDL, Bolten has been with Bush since Texas and is cozy with Rove.
During the 2000 campaign, Bolten was Bush’s policy director, and during the Florida recount he was a top lieutenant to James Baker. He worked as a lawyer in the Reagan administration’s State Department, and he served as a staff attorney for the Senate Finance Committee from 1985 to 1989. In the first Bush administration, he worked as general counsel for the U.S. trade representative and as the White House’s deputy assistant for legislative affairs.
So, in other words, Enter the Crony. Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.
Keeping up with the Joneses
Jealous of the fanfare over the spate of recent appearances made by Jesus and Mary, Allah and Mohammed have decided to get in on the action.
Two fish purchased at an English pet shop by Ali AlWaqedi, 23, appear to have Arabic inscriptions on their scales.Arabic inscriptions aren’t quite as showy as burning one’s face through cheese, but, being a good Muslim, Mohammed probably can’t show a picture of his own face either. It’s an interesting bit of oneupmanship, though, since The Big Guy made an appearance, too. Come on Christian God—are you going to let Allah get away with that? I expect to hear about the sighting of a bearded old man on a tree trunk ASAP. Heck, maybe just to be sure the message gets through, he ought to bring back the burning bush. (Insert your own presidential pun here.)
One Oscar fish bearing the name Allah and the other Mohammed are living in a fish tank in Liverpool while drawing crowds of the faithful to witness the "miracle."
Ali said: "This is a message from Allah to me, a reminder, and now my faith is stronger. Everyone is so excited by the discovery," reported the Liverpool Echo.
Leaders at the nearby Al-Rahma mosque in Hatherley Street, are in no doubt about the authenticity.
Sheikh Sadek Kassem, the mosque's Imam, said, "This is a proof and a sign not just to Liverpool's Muslims, but for everyone."
Via Agitprop.
Charming
Government investigators smuggled radioactive materials into U.S.
Two teams of government investigators using fake documents were able to enter the United States with enough radioactive sources to make two dirty bombs, according to a federal report made available Monday.Prediction: Although this is a searing indictment of the administration’s apathy toward genuine security issues, and underlines its criminal incompetence in failing to protect the country against nuclear terrorism, the Rightwing Noise Machine will in no time be spinning this as highlighting the urgency with which we must past the president’s proposed immigration reform, even though one has absolutely nothing to do with the other.
The investigators purchased a "small quantity" of radioactive materials from a commercial source, according to a Government Accountability Office report prepared for Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations Chairman Norm Coleman, a Minnesota Republican.
The investigators posed as employees of a fictitious company and brought the materials into the United States through checkpoints on the northern and southern borders, the report stated.
George and Dick and Jim and David
After writing that last post, all I could think was, “Man, I really, really don’t like Dick Cheney. And I’m not so fond of Bush, either.”
Sometimes I try to imagine meeting George Bush and Dick Cheney, if they’d never been president/VP and were just some dudes. I’m certain I wouldn’t like either of them, but for totally different reasons…
I worked at a design firm in Chicago for about six years, during which time I recommended several friends for various positions (including Mr. Furious), and it was at this job that I met my oft-mentioned girlfriend Miller. Every time any of us get together, we rehash stories about the bizarre parade of incredibly strange coworkers who passed through that place, but there are two in particular about whom we have lots and lots of stories: Jim and David.
Jim was, at first blush, a pleasant enough sort of fellow, if kind of an annoying doofus. Not someone you’d want to hang out with, but seemingly pretty inoffensive. But after working with him awhile, all the rest of us realized he was a total scam artist; he never did a lick of work, always blamed other people for his mistakes (and he made plenty of mistakes), tried to take credit for others’ successes, and was basically an incompetent turd. None of which ever stopped him from being condescending, even though he was constantly proved wrong. And he was sneaky—I busted him reading my email and he got caught fudging his billable hours, charging clients for work he didn’t do. He made stupid excuses for being constantly late or unprepared. He looked at women’s tits when he spoke to them, instead of making eye contact. He drank during the day and compulsively played with his balls. In the end, he was a totally pathetic character, but such a horse’s ass that he didn’t earn an ounce of pity from anyone.
When I consider how I’d regard George Bush, were I to have met him as an ordinary man, I think of Jim—a guy you try to be nice to, in spite of the fact you instantly peg him as a dope, who exploits any good will he receives to his own benefit, until you’d rather gouge out your own eyes with a dull butter knife than extend him a modicum more.
David was a different kind of character altogether. He wasn’t an objectively ugly man, although his countenance, constantly sour unless marred with a forced grin that cut across his face like a jagged wound, was distinctly unpleasant. He grimaced more than grinned when he tried to ingratiate himself after assertions of superiority, or deviousness, had failed to get him what he wanted. Utterly lacking in social graces, he was avoided at all costs. His office was on the direct route between my desk and Miller’s; we would walk around the entire office in the opposite direction just to evade him. The most notable thing about David, however, was not any particular personality trait or habit, but his aura. I have never known another person whose presence was so repulsive, by which I mean not nauseating, but actually having the quality of repelling anyone who drew near. The air around him seemed to pulsate with an odorless stench; within three feet of him, your skin would crawl and a visceral flight urge would well up within—it was quite literally unbearable to be near him. Every last person in the office felt the same way. There was something creepy about him, something just not right.
It’s David of whom I think when I consider meeting Dick Cheney, not as our vice president, but as some random guy, a coworker or client or something. I imagine his severe mug being simply unappealing from a distance, but the same air of repulse, the same unforgiving sensation of creepiness, clinging to him and raising the hairs on the back of one’s neck in close range.
The thing about Jim and David is that they were just two schlubs working at a crappy corporate job—not running the country. And, eventually, they got shitcanned. Two farts in the wind. Now they’re just a collection of funny anecdotes. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be laughing about George and Dick’s dirty deeds anytime soon.
Turd Blossom Gives Up the Goods
In case you hadn’t already heard, Karl Rove is cooperating with Fitzy in his CIA leak inquiry. I must admit, it doesn’t surprise me too much—a rat rats—but some of what he’s providing to prosecutors is certainly interesting in that it reveals just how dirty this administration actually is. Again, no surprise, but it’s odd nonetheless to have it confirmed. (Raw Story’s information was confirmed by The Washington Note.)
According to several Pentagon sources close to Rove and others familiar with the inquiry, Bush's senior adviser tipped off Special Prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald to information that led to the recent "discovery" of 250 pages of missing email from the office of Vice President Dick Cheney…I hope that office’s scumbag of a resident gets exactly what’s coming to him.
Rove is providing information on deleted emails, erased hard drives and other types of obstruction by staff and other officials in the Vice President's office. Pentagon sources close to Rove confirmed this account.
None would name the staffers and/or officials whom Rove is providing information about. They did, however, explain that the White House computer system has "real time backup" servers and that while emails were deleted from computers, they were still retrievable from the backup system. By providing the dates and recipient information of the deleted emails, sources say, Rove was able to chart a path for Fitzgerald directly into the office of the Vice President.
Question of the Day
Favorite poet?
If preventing from offering my obvious choice (cough*the Bard*cough), I'd probably offer up Omar Khayyam for consideration, whose Rubaiyat is astoundingly beautiful.
Campaign Advice from the Newtster
Are you listening, Dems?
Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, who masterminded the 1994 elections that brought Republicans to power on promises of revolutionizing the way Washington is run, told Time that his party has so bungled the job of governing that the best campaign slogan for Democrats today could be boiled down to just two words: “Had enough?”It beats the shit out of “Together, America can do better.”
Hat tip to The Heretik.
A Meager Request
US President George W. Bush(C) delivers a speech during a naturalization ceremony at the Daughters of the American Revolution administration building in Washington, DC. (AFP/Mandel Ngan)
Can you numbskulls spend 1/8—that’s all I’m asking; just 1/8—of the amount of energy you expend on friggin’ signage on actually trying to do something of value for the American people?
And no—protecting the “sanctity of marriage,” gutting social programs, filling the coffers of corporate cronies through legislation that pretends to benefit the American people, leading us to war on false pretenses, threatening women’s autonomy, fixing elections, outing covert CIA operatives, and decorating the Oval Office with fancy rugs don’t count.
How do you solve a problem like Scalia?
(Part ten gazillion in an ongoing series : Scalia Knows Obscenity When He Does It Edition.)
Oddjob tipped me off to this post at AMERICAblog which reports that Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia was busted making an obscene gesture to a reporter's question right after leaving church.
When a reporter asked him "if he faces much questioning over impartiality when it comes to issues separating church and state," Scalia replied, "You know what I say to those people?" then made the gesture and added, "That's Sicilian."
John Aravosis notes, "If a 'gay activist' had done this, it would be the headlines around the world and the gay community would be apologizing for it for the next 20 years." Too true.
But it's certainly reassuring to know that, in the face of such a double-standard, at least we can find comfort in knowing one of the justices on the nation's highest court has no compunction about publicly airing his disregard for Constitutional guarantees. I mean, if we're going to let pharmacists invoke conscience clauses so they don't have to do the parts of their job they find morally objectionable, surely we should extend the same nicety to the hardworking members of our Supreme Court.
(Crossposted at AlterNet PEEK.)
DeLay loses his surrogate penii
As is the law for indicted criminals in Texas, the State has yanked Tom DeLay's permit to carry a gun.
Former House Majority Leader Tom DeLay has lost his right to carry a concealed handgun in Texas, RAW STORY has learned.
A Texas website, Brazosriver, was the first (to the knowledge of RAW STORY) to post a judge's order to suspend DeLay's license. Under Texas law, indicted felons are not allowed to carry concealed handguns.
This means that he can't leave the house with a gun concealed beneath his clothing. This does not mean that he can't have one in his home... so he won't have to borrow someone else's if he decides to do the honorable thing.
Of course, he could just drown himself in a bucket of sausage gravy. I'd pay to see that.
is that a crosspost in your pocket? or are you just glad to see a little comeuppance for once?
Why does this not surprise me?
Ron Luce is going to be speaking at The War on Christians conference. Hat tip to Mike Doughney.
The people getting ever more unhinged—and vocal—about this whole “war” thing are really beginning to freak me out. ("Reports from the Frontlines?" And one of the panelists is a Navy chaplain? Yeesh.) I’d love to chalk it up to some fringe element not worth paying attention to, but when one of our Senators is a keynote speaker at this conference, and he’s not the only elected official attending, that ain’t fringe anymore.
Mendacious Bastards
This is, perhaps, one of the most disingenuous pieces of horseshit across which I have stumbled lately, and a brief glace down the page ought to suggest that’s no small thing.
An anti-choice organization calling itself the American Life League—which sells some of the most ridiculous clothing items upon which I have ever laid eyes, including t-shirts that announce a new crusade and the wearer’s status as a “former embryo”…
…has decided to take on Planned Parenthood with a series of adverts as part of their campaign to petition “an end to taxpayer support for the likes of Planned Parenthood.”
The first phase of the ad campaign consists of a series of full-page ads, beginning in today's edition of the Washington Times. The first ad is headlined, "Reason No. 72 to stop Planned Parenthood from getting over $265 million in your tax dollars: Racism." The ad outlines the racist philosophies of Planned Parenthood founder Margaret Sanger, and points out that although African-Americans make up about 11 percent of the U.S. population, more than 30 percent of all abortions involve black babies.Let’s stop right there for a moment. If more than 30% of all abortions involve black mothers, is that because Planned Parenthood is racist? Or is it because Planned Parenthood is providing a service to a population which is disproportionately affected—because of racism—by poverty, one of the main reasons cited by women for seeking abortions? If the American Life League is so concerned that black women are seeking abortions, perhaps they’d do well to petition legislators to pay attention to improving the lives of the already-born.
Other ads in the series will focus on Planned Parenthood's effort to conceal information about potential cases of statutory rape, the higher incidence of suicide among teenagers who have had abortions, and the pornographic material Planned Parenthood distributes to children under the guise of sex education.Some unbelievable nerve coming from a Catholic-affiliated group, since, the last time I checked, the Catholic Church quite literally conspired to conceal evidence of rampant pedophilia and forbids the use of birth control which is a key component in preventing unwanted pregnancies.
Seriously, just give me a fucking break with this shit already. Sometimes I swear to the fates that they’re deliberately trying to incite me into fulfilling the role of the strawliberal they love to fight against, because I’m about thisclose to losing my bloody mind and starting a petition to throw every last one of these people into a giant cage with rabid crocodiles and lose the key down a well.
"Americans should demand an end to taxpayer support for the likes of Planned Parenthood." said Brown. "That is why American Life League is stepping up its petition campaign to encourage lawmakers at the federal, state and local levels to cut off every penny of taxpayer assistance to Planned Parenthood, which operates the country's deadliest chain of abortion facilities. We simply cannot tolerate the idea of our tax money being used to subsidize these offensive activities."“Americans should demand an end to the tax-exempt status conferred upon the Catholic Church,” said Shakespeare’s Sister. “That is why Shakespeare’s Sister is stepping up its petition campaign to encourage lawmakers at the federal, state and local levels to cut off every penny of tax-exempt assistance to the Catholic Church, which operates the country’s deadliest chain of pedophilia and abortion enablers. We simply cannot tolerate the idea of tax exemption used to subsidize these offensive activities.”
Makes about as much sense. Except, you know, I’m just being intolerant of religion. The American Life League, on the other hand, is on a moral crusade.
What the Sam Hill?, or Mark Trail fights eminent domain
In the March 13 CQ Weekly (paid subscription required for most mortals), Chris Wilson relates the delightful story of the latest opponent of land-grabbing developers: Mark Trail! The heroic but usually boring and damned-near-ageless fictional naturalist finds himself facing the wanton use of eminent domain:
The trouble starts when an unscrupulous gambling magnate, Sam Hill, sets out to build a new road to his casino in Trail's beloved Lost Forest. After conferring with an area road commissioner, Hill contrives to claim eminent domain privileges on bogus grounds and seize the land outright.
Reading this prompts tears of nostalgia. Damned if this doesn't remind me of my recently-ousted alderman.
More - and funnier - on the Trail tilt against rampant development at the Reason staff's Hit and Run. Use the SF Chronicle's site to catch up on all the frantic four-color action.
(Why did the blogger cross-post the road?)
Monday Blogwhoring
What's new, pussycat? Woah-oh-woah-oh...
Intriguing piece from Steve Clemons at The Washington Note about how our America 2.0 version of democracy is what's really on the march.
In case you needed more evidence…
…that our president is either an idiot, a liar, totally disconnected from reality, or all of the above, comes this from the BBC:
At least 40 people have been killed by a suicide bomb inside a military base housing US and Iraqi forces near the northern Iraqi city of Mosul.We haven’t turned a corner. Freedom is not on the march. There is a civil war brewing, if not already underway. And Talafar isn’t a success story.
The attacker struck at an Iraqi police recruitment centre at the base in Kisk. No Americans died, the US said…
The village of Kisk, which houses the military base, lies between Mosul and Talafar.
Both towns have been the scene of much anti-US violence and unrest in the three years since the US-led invasion of Iraq.
US President George W Bush singled out Talafar in a recent speech as a success story in the campaign to quell the insurgency.
The administration likes to moan about how the media doesn’t report the good news, but a new school, or a town finally—after three years—getting permanent electricity back, just isn’t as newsworthy as 40 people being killed by a suicide bomber. It doesn’t (or shouldn’t) matter whether you support the war or not; the loss of 40 Iraqi lives is an important news story that gives more insight into what’s happening with the war than a new school. You want something for reopening a hospital that was only shut because we invaded? Fine—I’ll get you a cookie.
Rice opens door to talk show host rehiring...but host remains fired (correction)
Some of what should have happened regarding the dismissal of KTRS on-air personality Dave Lenihan actually did happen: Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice accepted Lenihan's profuse apology for inadvertently using the word 'coon' while discussing her, and station chief Tim Dorsey took advantage of the reprieve from on high to rescind his firing of the embattled host - a firing that should never have happened in the first place and which helped inflate a verbal accident into a nationally-reported incident. NOTE: Lenihan was not rehired by Dorsey, as I erroneously posted earlier. Lenihan's slot has been filled by McGraw Milhaven, another previously fired KTRS announcer.
"My understanding is that he apologized, said he didn't mean it," Rice told "Fox News Sunday." "I accept that because we all say things from time to time that we
shouldn't say or didn't mean to say."
The statement - made on the Bush administration's favorite news outlet, FOX - was very gracious of Dr. Rice, even if she rather shamelessly used the occasion to equate a verbal gaffe with bloody violence and political stumbling in Iraq and Afghanistan. As for Lenihan, he now gets to walk the rocky trail of public redemption starting with a trip to the woodshed: a "visit" with Harold Crumpton, president of St. Louis' NAACP chapter. He may find himself onstage on Oprah Winfrey's show before it's all said and done (and if he does, remember that you read it here first), but it is to be hoped that the grace demonstrated by Rice will guide future discussions of Lenihan's slip of the lip.
As for Dorsey: I'm no media expert, so I'm not sure how much weight to give to suggestions that the KTRS chief used this incident as cheap publicity for his station. It's clear enough, however, that his shoot-from-the-hip dismissal of Lenihan before the mic was even cold did a lot to aggravate the situation, and showed fairly poor judgment. Lenihan's not the only one who needs to learn a lesson here.
And will everyone at KTRS please practice using the delay button? That's what they do at the grown-up stations.
(Cross-post your heart and hope to die...)
Is it really "news" if it's not new?
So the New York Times is running a big story headlined Bush Was Set on Path to War, Memo by British Adviser Says, as if it's news. The only real news here is that they're treating it like it's news. As it happens, The Guardian covered the story in February, as did a whole lot of bloggers, many of whom had been covering a little thing known as The Downing Street Memos for, ahem, quite some time. Suffice it to say, the reaction to the Times' piece is a bit, uh, jaded in some quarters.
Cernig at NewsHog:
The New York Times is finally playing catch-up.Jill at Brilliant at Breakfast:
Today their leader deals with one of the Downing Street documents already familiar to every Briton - and to American readers of progressive blogs…
Bravo for finally catching up, chaps.
The information about the Downing Street Memos has been out for almost a year, but only now that George W. Bush's approval ratings are in the toilet does the New York Times see fit to cover them.Elsewhere, we find more expressions of frustration about the Right's enablement and when, at long last, enough will be enough.
Maha:
When The Guardian reported last February about another Downing Street memo in which President Bush suggested luring Saddam Hussein into war by “flying U2 reconnaissance aircraft planes with fighter cover over Iraq, painted in UN colours,” there was much scoffing and hoo-hawing from the Right.Susie at Suburban Guerrilla:
But today the New York Times reveals that the memo is real.
We are losing our country before our very eyes. The press is gingerly climbing on board but it may be too late. The paycheck economy (the one that affects most of us) has been devastated; we live in constant uncertainty. Most countries hate us. The world climate is rapidly decomposing while the administration still plays semantic games.And, finally, contemptuous exasperation.
They are smash-and-grab thugs whose mantra is greed and whose weapons are ballpoint pens and electronic voting machines.
Sometimes it’s so frustrating, I feel as if every major organ in my body will explode. What, exactly, is that will finally let people know enough is enough? When the Pentagon calls in airstrikes on their own suburban development?
Drum at Washington Monthly, responding to the contents of the memo:
Yes, that's the president of the United States talking about deliberately faking a UN overflight in order to provoke a phony confrontation with Saddam—or if that didn't work, trotting out a defector to lie about Iraqi WMD. Honor and dignity, baby, honor and dignity.(Crossposted at AlterNet PEEK.)
Onward Christian Soldiers, Marching as to Virtue War
Via Memeorandum, I see that San Francisco became the newest front in the culture war this weekend, as 25,000 evangelical teens blew into town to rally against the "virtue terrorism" of pop culture. The teens are part of a movement called "Battle Cry for a Generation," led by Teen Mania organizer Ron Luce—a Texas-based activist, author, and host of the "Acquire the Fire TV" cable program, who also happens to be a Bush appointee to a federal anti-drug-abuse commission. The two-day rally in San Francisco was the first stop in a three-city "reverse rebellion" that will move on to Detroit and Philadelphia and be followed by what Luce describes as the unleashing of a blitz of youth pastors into the communities to use the power of "'God's instruction book' to guide young people away from the corrupting influence of popular culture."
If the movement's verbiage—virtue terrorism, battle cry, acquire the fire, rebellion, blitz—all sounds a bit disconcertingly warlike to you, well, it's no mistake. Luce is a believer that Christians are at war in America.
"This is more than a spiritual war," Luce said. "It's a culture war."The San Francisco Board of Supervisors officially condemned the rally, which is openly anti-choice and anti-gay, and counter-protestors deemed the "Battle Cry" event a "fascist mega-pep rally," which has drawn the ire of some conservative bloggers, who are pointing to it as proof of the Left's intolerance. To which I can only say, Guilty as charged. As a card-carrying progressive, I don't find the merest shred of obligation to be tolerant of people who have declared a war on me and my ideals, not the tiniest compulsion to accommodate hatemongering cast in a branded offensive, not an infinitesimal responsibility to engage in the semantic contortions required for me to pretend that progressives who seek to protect women's rights of autonomy and ensure equality for the LGBT community are of the same tenor as a group of asinine teens too foolish to question what, if advertisers are terrorists, does that make the man who sends them into the streets with identical signs marketing his website?
Military metaphors abound in Luce's descriptions of the struggle. He tells young people of how "an enemy has launched a brutal attack on them." At a pre-Battle Cry rally Friday afternoon on the steps of City Hall, Luce told his mostly teenage audience that "terrorists of a different kind" -- advertisers -- were targeting them and that they were "caught in the middle of the battle."
"Are you ready to go to battle for your generation?" he asked, and the young people roared "yes!" and some waved triangular red flags flown from long, medieval-looking poles.
Being tolerant doesn't require that we demur to a group of people who "declare war" on us—something around which one would think the proponents of a doctrine of preemption would be able to wrap their minds.
Supervisor Tom Ammiano, who authored the condemnation resolution, said of the rally and its objectives, "Even if it is done by a Barnum & Bailey crowd with a tent and some snake oil, I think we need to pay attention to it. We should not fall asleep at the wheel." I couldn't agree more.
(Crossposted at AlterNet PEEK.)
