Two things that maybe got missed, as things move quickly down the page:
1. Chat corridor has been replaced by chat pop-up window. Look for it toward the top of the righthand sidebar.
2. Mr. Shakes consented to do a podcast, but it was posted late in the day yesterday. You can find it here.
That’s all I got. Please feel free to put questions, suggestions, complaints, and requests regarding blog functionality, features, etc. in comments.
Blog Notes
Edwards
[This post is dedicated to Neil Sinhababu, my fellow Ezra weekender, who has long endeavored to make me—and the rest of the world—fall deeply in love with John Edwards.]
Tonight, while watching John Edwards on The Daily Show, a great appearance which culminated in Edwards giving absolutely the right response to the Seat of Heat question (if he’d been vice president, who would he have shot in the face? “Dick Cheney.”), I was struck by something quite peculiar and wonderful…
Now, mind you, I’ve always really liked John Edwards, finding him clever and witty and genuinely decent, and I respect him immensely for being the only politician in recent memory who has so passionately advocated for addressing endemic poverty. But tonight, watching that infectious grin make its way broadly across his face, and listening him to speak about the poverty center he founded, with an evident concern for the less fortunate among us, it occurred to me that there is perhaps not a politician in America today who is more completely a perfect reverse image of George W. Bush.
No sneering, condescending, beady-eyed mug, but an open face with kind eyes and an easy smile. No stumbling, nonsensical regurgitation of ideological talking points, but an eloquent discourse on the issues close to his heart. No alienating cynicism and nastiness, but contagious optimism and amiability. This son of a mill worker really is everything that Bush is not.
He is the antidote to Dubya.
I pictured what it would be like to have a president who was quick to smile and to laugh, who was hopeful and visionary and truly cared about other people, after these six long years of a petulant, sniveling leader with pretenses of dictatorship. I can only imagine that following G-Dub with his ultimate antithesis John Edwards would be like stumbling out into the sunshine after a very long internment in a dank and light-starved dungeon. I long for that sunshine.
The GOP dismissed Edwards as a lightweight, and, in large part, the left didn’t argue to the contrary very convincingly. But he is a skilled and knowledgeable politician who polled well among undecided voters. In his exile from Washington, he has proven himself capable and determined, successful in his advocacy in much the same way Gore has been, but to less acclaim. He’s not a junkyard dog, though he doesn’t need to be—the Democrats have reclaimed both houses of Congress, and he can safely leave the snarling to them. (Not that he’s incapable of delivering a scathing bit of snark without breaking his smile, in that uniquely Southern way.) A potential match-up against the disagreeable and famously temperamental McCain calls to mind the notorious debate between Nixon and JFK, who effortlessly made his grumpy challenger look like a cantankerous, constipated geezer.
I’m still holding out hope that Gore will run, and surely Edwards himself couldn’t blame me, if he heard how I’ve been waiting for him to be my president for half my life. But if Al’s a no-show, and the last two years of G-Dub’s presidency prove just as ruinous and grim as the first six, I’ll be looking very closely at John Edwards. By virtue of being everything Bush is not, both aesthetically and ideologically, he may just be the cure for that which ails us.
Question of the Day
As promised, today's follow-up to yesterday's QotD is: What is the Worst Presidential Ticket You Can Possibly Imagine?
Same rules; let's keep it to people who are actually eligible to run.
Mr. Shakes says Santorum/Lieberman. I think I've got to go with O'Reilly/Coulter.
Podcast-a-Go-Go
By popular demand, and after much begging and pleading on my part, Mr. Shakes has finally consented to give us a podcast. Click here to go to Wiki Upload, where you can download the file. (I don't have my own server space, so you'll have to forgive the jury-rigging. Just click the "Download File" button on the right side of the page.) Once there, you'll be able to hear: The National Broadcasting Corporation of Displaced Scotsman presents the news with Mr. Shakes. Enjoy!
I’m so sick of George Bushes, I could puke.
This time it’s HW getting on my last good nerve, as he blathers on about using “the email” and blaming bloggers—BLOGGERS!—for the current political climate having “gotten so adversarial that it’s ugly.”
Shove it, douche. I couldn’t dream of bringing the kind of ugly wrought upon the world your deplorable progeny.
Farewell, Rummy
I’m not a huge fan of Craig Ferguson, but this clip, found at Waffle Ass, is pretty stinking funny.
Random Trivia: Craig Ferguson, before he came to the US, was a zed-list comedian with a dreadful persona called Bing Hitler. These are the sorts of things that clutter your head when you're married to a Scotsman and one of your best mates is a Londoner.
Quiver Me Timbers
Kathryn Joyce, Jessica, and Amanda on the “Quiverfull” bullshit I’ve written about before.
Yes, there are, in fact, women who view themselves as breeding machines for God’s army. And, yes, I have wondered if the song Onward Christian Soldiers makes them horny.
Marines Declare War on Christmas!
Why do the Marines hate America?
A talking Jesus doll has been turned down by the Marine Reserves' Toys for Tots program.Why is the phrase “battery-powered Jesus” making me laugh uncontrollably?
A suburban Los Angeles company offered to donate 4,000 of the foot-tall dolls, which quote Bible verses, for distribution to needy children this holiday season. The battery-powered Jesus is one of several dolls manufactured by one2believe, a division of the Valencia-based Beverly Hills Teddy Bear Co., based on Biblical figures.
Anyhoo, the vice president of Marine Toys for Tots Foundation, Bill Grein, said that toys are distributed to children based on financial need and “we don’t know anything about their background, their religious affiliation,” so they rejected the donation, lest they risk “sending a talking Jesus doll to a Jewish family or Muslim family.” Grein also noted, rather amusingly, that “kids want a gift for the holiday season that is fun.” What—and a battery-powered doll designed for religious indoctrination isn’t fun?!
Michael La Roe, director of business development for [one2believe and Beverly Hills Teddy Bear Co.], said the charity's decision left him "surprised and disappointed."Well, Mr. La Roe, I hate to surprise and disappoint you further, but that’s probably only one of many beliefs that you don’t share with everyone in America.
"The idea was for them to be three-dimensional teaching tools for kids," La Roe said. "I believe as a churchgoing person, anyone can benefit from hearing the words of the Bible."
Wrong Again, Michelle
Xenophobia Warrior Princess is bent every which way to Sunday because “The Democrats want John Bolton's scalp.”
Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, especially not "the Democrats," but let me assure you, dear—I don’t want his scalp.
It Must Be Nice to Live in Fantasy Land
Parenting is hard work.
"Caged Kids" Case Begins Jury Selection
NORWALK, Ohio - Jury selection began Tuesday in the trial of a couple accused of making some of their 11 adopted special needs children sleep in cages.Yeah, because then you'll be able to find people that are able to turn a blind eye to the fact that your clients locked children in cages. Good luck with that.
Michael and Sharen Gravelle are charged with 16 counts of felony child endangering and if convicted could face one to five years in prison and a maximum fine of $10,000 for each count.
The process of seating a jury in Huron County Common Pleas Court could take days, with 100 people yet to be questioned.
Earlier, about 350 potential jurors were sent questionnaires, and 250 were weeded out because of bias or other issues, said Ken Myers, who represents Sharen Gravelle.
Myers still has a motion pending to move the trial to out of Huron County, arguing there is too much publicity for the Gravelles to get a fair trial in the mostly rural northern Ohio county.
He said he is seeking "a jury that is willing to set aside some of the things that they've heard."
"There is no case. We're going to win this thing," said lawyer Richard Drucker, who represents Michael Gravelle. "I think we have a good shot at having a fair and impartial jury."The last thing they want is an intelligent jury. Hell, the last thing they would want is a jury. Because there is a case, and they're not going to win. Drucker's clients are monsters. If he's lucky, he'll get a jury that will only slap them on the wrist with that pathetic one to five years.
Huron County Prosecutor Russell Leffler said he's "looking for an intelligent jury."
But, you know, "A" for effort and all that. "We're going to win this thing." I love the dismissal.
The Gravelles have denied mistreating the children, who were ages 1 to 15 at the time of the alleged endangering. The youngsters were placed in foster care last fall after a county social worker likened the wood and chicken-wire enclosures in the Gravelle home to cages to kennels.Oh, to be a fly on the wall in that jury room. I hope they enjoy prison orange.
The Gravelles have repeatedly said the enclosures were necessary to keep the children from harming themselves or one another. The children have problems such as fetal alcohol syndrome and a disorder that involves eating nonfood items.
The Gravelles lost permanent custody in March and have not be granted visitation since then, Myers said.Well, thank goodness for small favors.
How long do you think it will take for them to switch to an insanity plea?
(Goodness, gracious, great balls of cross-posts.)
Quote of the Day
“[I]t's a caricature of a plan because it doesn't have any meat and bones on it.” — Tony Snow on Democratic calls for a phased withdrawal from Iraq.
As opposed, I guess to Stay the Course, which, if nothing else, is predicated on a whole lot of troops giving their meat and bones for it.
I Loves Me Some Smart-Assery
Hence, I’m currently chuckling at Heraclitus’s Smart-assery on gender differences. How can I possibly resist the fisking of an article by an author about whom Heraclitus notes: “He's a sort of poor man's David Horowitz (and you have no idea how dismayed and terrified I am to learn that such a thing is possible).”
(Hat tip to Michael.)
The future's not so bright that you gotta wear shades
A little gloom to go with the weather here in St. Louis, courtesy of Richard Haass, president of the Council on Foreign Relations. Juan Cole linked today to an interview with Der Spiegel in which Haass paints a worrisome picture of the Middle East mess which George Bush has bequeathed America and the world:
SPIEGEL: So what will become of the region?Haass: Visions of a new Middle East that is peaceful, prosperous and democratic will not be realized. Much more likely is the emergence of a new Middle East that will cause great harm to itself and the world. Iran will be a powerful state in the region, a classical imperial power. No viable peace process between Israel and the Palestinians is likely for the foreseeable future. Militias will emerge throughout the region, terrorism will grow in sophistication, tensions between Sunni and Shia will increase, causing problems in countries with divided societies, such as Bahrain, Lebanon and Saudi Arabia. Islam will fill the political and intellectual vacuum. Iraq at best will remain messy for years to come, with a weak central government, a divided society and sectarian violence. At worst, it will become a failed state racked by all-out civil war that will draw in its neighbors.
SPIEGEL: How long will this dangerous period last?
Haass: I don't know if this will last for five or 50 years, but it's going to be an incredibly difficult era. Together with managing a dynamic Asia it will be the primary challenge for US foreign policy.
The title of the article says it bluntly: "Iraq Is Not Winnable." It's a sobering piece, but it at least has the benefit of being reality-based...which is more than you can say for American foreign policy over the last six years.
In the meantime, as noted earlier by Paul: "up to" one hundred and fifty people kidnapped in Baghdad in one fell swoop. Just another example of the miracles we're seeing in Iraq these days.
(Cross-posted.)
The Kitchen Sink
Over at Coturnix’s place, I found a quiz meant to discern what American accent you have. I was told my “accent is as Philadelphian as a cheesesteak! If you're not from Philadelphia, then you're from someplace near there like south Jersey, Baltimore, or Wilmington.” Or…you’ve got a dad who was raised in Indiana and a mom who was raised in Queens, so you have some weird accent all your own that unscientific quizzes say is Philadelphian.
Mama Shakes’ accent is all but gone now, although when she speaks to her brother, or Aunt Gladys, who still live in New Yawk, it creeps back out, and I am reminded of why I thought for years that the word spatula was spelled “spatuler,” and why my classmates always giggled at my pronunciation of the word horrible.
At home I was Lissa; at my grandparents’ house, I was Lisser. “Lisser’n I ah ganna walk down to the connah stah.” It was almost a different language, but I spoke it—and I knew it meant I was going down to the corner store with my granddad, where he’d buy a paper and give me some change to buy 5¢ candies kept in big glass jars on the countah.
It was the language of summertime. When school let out, including for my parents, who were teachers, we went to New York, driving across the country—Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania…—and by the time the Verrazano Bridge was in view, I was giddy with anticipation of hearing that language again. Lisser, New York called to me. Lisser. All the mystery of a magnificent city wrapped up in a voice that made my name thrillingly unfamiliar to my own ears. I never got used to it, because I never wanted to. I preferred to let that language remind me always of the chance for exploration and wonderment that a city which wasn’t my own provided.
I loved Central Park, and the Empire State Building, and the Statue of Liberty. I loved the subway, and the ferry, and the Queens-Midtown Tunnel on the Long Island Expressway. But everything I loved the most could be found on one block on 68th Street in Queens. Cellar doors on raised cement porches, fuzzy white caterpillars in the narrow, kid-sized crevices between row houses, my grandmother’s desk whose drawers were filled with outdated secretarial tools that fascinated me, my grandfather’s closet with its old-fashioned hangers and shoehorns, the dumbwaiter, the pocket door between the living room and kitchen, intricate metal heating grates, an ancient wallphone with a phone number written on it that contained letters, the best junk room in the world stuffed with a working electric organ, a massive collection of Mad magazines, and a box of funny hats. And my favorite thing in the world—the giant, steel kitchen sink, that doubled as my bath when I was a wee thing.
Lisser, my mom would say. It’s bath time. The cold sink would be filled with warm, soapy water, while I waited patiently in my toddler chair with its vinyl seat and cool metal arms. And then I would be undressed and lifted into the sink, where I’d slide against its smooth sides, and my mom would have to reach in and pull me upright again as we both laughed. My grandmother would tell me about how she and my mom and my uncle were bathed in that sink, too; We’ll look at the pictures later, Lisser. Later…when I was wrapped in my big green terrycloth towel, complete with a hood, that was perfect for snuggling after a bath—or wearing to play Robin Hood any old time.
Once I was too big to be bathed in the sink, it became a benchmark for how grown-up I was from one summer to the next. I’d stand before it and stretch in my arms, to see if I could touch its deep bottom. Maybe next year, Lisser. My fingertips reached its depths the same year my grandfather died.
The last time I stood at that sink, my nephew was carrying the tradition of kitchen sink baths into a fourth generation. Look at your Aunt Lisser, he was instructed, for a photo. He giggled and slid across its bottom.
After my grandmother died, the house was sold, and I’m sure that antiquated old sink is now long gone, a victim to modernization. But the language that falls from millions of tongues reminds me of it still. Lisser, I hear—and it conjures sunny afternoons on Myrtle Avenue, the Four-Ones cab company, corner shop candies, the Hudson, my New York and everyone else’s. And a kitchen sink.
Holy Crap
Gunmen Kidnap Scores at Baghdad Office
BAGHDAD, Iraq - Gunmen dressed as police commandos kidnapped scores of staff and visitors in a lightning raid on an education ministry office Tuesday in one of the biggest mass abductions since the start of the U.S. occupation. Five senior police officers — including the neighborhood police chief — were arrested, the government said.
At least 82 people were killed or found dead in murders, bombings and clashes nationwide.
Alaa Makki, head of parliament's education committee, interrupted the legislative session Tuesday morning to say that between 100 and 150 people, both Shiites and Sunnis, had been abducted in the 9:30 a.m. raid at the ministry offices, calling the kidnapping a "national catastrophe."
Abed Theyab, the higher education minister, told parliament he had repeatedly petitioned for more university security from the ministries of Defense and Interior, who command the police, but had received none.
Well Done, South Africa!
South Africa’s parliament has legalized gay marriage, and their model appears to be very close to the one we’ve often discussed within these pages:
The National Assembly passed the Civil Union Bill, worked out after months of heated public discussion, by a majority of 230 to 41 votes despite criticism from both traditionalists and gay activists and warnings that it might be unconsitutional [sic]. There were three abstentions.Fair enough. Freedom of religion and all that. If I’m understanding this legislation correctly, a civil union is exactly the same as a marriage; what Mr. Shakes and I did (getting hitched at City Hall in about 5 minutes) would also be regarded as a civil union, thereby delineating the difference between the two along religious lines (as it should be), as opposed to the sexual orientation of the couple.
The bill provides for the "voluntary union of two persons, which is solemnized and registered by either a marriage or civil union." It does not specify whether they are heterosexual or homosexual partnerships.
But it also says marriage officers need not perform a ceremony between same-sex couples if doing so would conflict with his or her "conscience, religion and belief."
"When we attained our democracy, we sought to distinguish ourselves from an unjust painful past, by declaring that never again shall it be that any South African will be discriminated against on the basis of color, creed culture and sex," Home Affairs Minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula told the National Assembly.Lovely. Really and truly.
My girlfriend Miller just emailed me excitedly about this story. She’s a straight woman, who is totally pro-gay rights but wouldn’t be described as an activist; she’s just a sensible and compassionate person who believes in equality. That’s why the GOP lost. That’s why same-sex marriage is inevitable in America. Because there are Americans with no vested interest in the legalization of same-sex marriage who are celebrating South Africa’s decision—and they’re eagerly waiting to see the same equality grace their shores as well.
Bush Goes to Vietnam
As promised back in August, President Bush is finally going to visit Vietnam for the first time for the Pacific Rim summit. Reportedly, "terrorism and bird flu will be the dominant topics of discussion."
Considering that Bush’s failure as a soldier may be eclipsed only by his failures in diplomacy and reducing terrorism, I’m fairly certain this is one scenario where "Better Never Than Late" would be the appropriate back-asswards aphorism.
(Via State of the Day. PEEK-posted.)
