Saturday, September 23, 2006



Saturday Morning: Cat Power to Kurt Cobain

Good morning. There's a singer who calls herself Cat Power, and she seems to have written an Ode to Kurt Cobain. I never realized it until I searched on YouTube for one of my favorite songs of hers, and the clip attached above was the first hit; someone guessed who her song was about and re-mixed it with Nirvana footage.

Why am I posting this? Well, a) Chan Marshall is Cat Power, and she's Australian. B), this is a great song. C),
a friend of mine, Mr. Anderson, is an ex-rock star and he invited me to see friends of his who were playing in town. A band from Down Under called The Waifs. They're alot like Australian versions of Lucinda Williams, only there's two of them and they're sisters. They played at the jarringly luxurious dinner ampitheatre the Triple Door, which I'd never been to, and they were great. So was Paul Kelly, who played with them and can be described as a combination of Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan. (But he might be better than that.) It was a privilege to get to know some of their music, and even them, because Mr. Anderson's friend is married to one sister and we were the backstage VIPs. So this got me thinking more about Australian music, and because I'm already cat-powered, the internet found me this clip.

It's interesting. Kurt was the kind of artist who comes along not more than once in a generation, and he was the emblem of his. I moved to the Pacific Northwest as his arc was nearing its crest, and by then he had triggered, or had propelled and fully expressed, a social phenomenon known as "grunge." I've never heard anyone make sense of what it meant, but to witness it you'd think Goethe was focusing his talents on fronting a garage-rock band, pulling everything along with him, walling off his words behind reverberations. That was in part to protect himself, I think, but probably more intended to cushion us from them. Otherwise you could've more easily told he'd been inside your head.

After we said our goodbyes to the Waifs, we strolled around the old grunge haunts. To the back alley warehouse where we hauled in equipment to hold raves after 2AM. Most of the places are gone or prettified, all but one dive bar gone. The most infamous of all dive bars, the Dome of the Rock of grunge and a place which kept sawdust on the floor as an expedient to vomit, has had a million dollars of remodeling and sculpture done inside. It's still called the Frontier Room, but where once the bar consisted of unfinished planks, it is now of cunningly blown glass, lit like a crystal palace. Like it's waiting for Cameron Diaz and Brad Pitt to waltz into Belltown and start divvying up white powder and snort from little platinum spoons. There's a modern art sculpture of a contrived brass-and-rust cow hanging on the wall where once the stinking sawdust would get pushed over to. We stood inside and marveled; having a drink would've been blasphemous. The Crocodile Cafe is still there, still has the same linoleum tiles with the same gummy hashish-like substance in its corners, but it floats, isolated, an island in a sea of metrosexuality. One of the lasting local effects of grunge is that you can still get into nice restaurants wearing sweats. I often do, and wasn't even a big fan.

Here are the lyrics to I Don't Blame You:

Last time I saw you, you were on the stage
Your hair was wild, your eyes were bright,
and you were in a rage.
You were swinging your guitar around
'cause they wanted to hear that sound
that you didn’t want to play.
I don’t blame you;
I don’t blame you.

Been around the world in many situations,
been inside many heads, in different positions.
But you never wanted them that way.
What a cruel price you thought
that you had to pay,
and die for all that shit on stage.

But it never made sense to them anyway.
Could you imagine when they turned their backs
and were only scratching their heads?
'Cause you simply deserve the best.
And I don’t blame you,
I don't blame you.

They said you were the best,
but then they were only kids.
Then you would recall
the deadly houses you grew up in.
Just because they knew your name
doesn’t mean they knew from where you came.
What a sad trick you thought
that you had to play!
But I don’t blame you...

They never owned it,
(they never owned it!)
and you never owed it to them, anyway.
(I don't blame you!)
I don't blame you.


(Kurt C. brought to you from the Pac NW and the sulfur-smelling timber town of Aberdeen, Washington. Cat Power brought to you from the former penal colony of Oz.)

Friday, September 22, 2006



Back To The Future

Welcome to the future of grass-roots politics. Hell, welcome to the future of government. The Main Stream Media has found what it has been looking for from the blog-osphere, and her name is Jane Hamsher. She was a successful Hollywood producer who left after getting a few fabulous, edgy movies made, possibly because she had to deal with Oliver Stone for a while, or possibly because she wanted to recover her sanity. (Wait...those last two are the same thing, aren't they?) Jane is one of the hordes who adore MarcLord. If she were fatter, older, and had more of an accent Lord-Wife would have reason to be jealous. But many worthy women don't get to be on TV; Jane made it through the filter.

She has gifted instincts for spotting early on what good things can be made to happen with enough work, and then getting people to line up behind them. Kind of like the mirror image of Dick Cheney. She's also running fast and parallel to the future of politics in this country and the world. She is the reason I have a blog, and she is the reason I gave a flat-screen TV's worth of my personal money, the first and only of my money, to a politician in my life and he's not even in my state. His name is Ned Lamont, and he kicked the tired old distended ass of Joe Lieberman out of what was once known as the Democratic Party, soon to be out of Connecticut. Ned's one of us because he searches for solutions. He's not perfect, but Jane saw his progressive potential and called him out to her blog, which 350,000 or so unique visitors go to every week. She raised a bunch of money for him. Her mother died in her arms in Oklahoma this summer, and from that deathbed she drove to Connecticut to campaign for Ned against Sideshow Joe Lieberman. With her poodles. Hero.

Jane thinks women should have the right to choose whether they have a baby or not. Jane think the partners of gay people should be able to get health care. Jane thinks our country shouldn't go around attacking people. Like Jane or not, you're stuck with her. Get ready for what blog politics will look like. She's open-sourced, a straight-up honest speaker, and is going to be around a long time. Bring up a mental image of Dick Cheney, watch this clip, and ask yourself, in the context of imperial decline, what's the face of the government you rather would have?

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Teenage Mutant Special Forces

In my musings on last night's status of US/Israeli-Iranian brinksmanship, in which I employed the popular poker game Texas Hold 'Em and the old game show Let's Make a Deal as hopeful metaphors, I glossed over a few minor details. (But first, is Monty Hall still around? If he's alive, I bet he's hosting a game show. Him and Bob Barker. Some people are just born for their times.) I mentioned that special forces have already been in Iran for a while. Just like they were in Iraq for a year before Gulf War Two. We'll get to that in a minute. Note that I greatly admire the Special Forces as fighting units, surprisingly underappreciated by the Regular Army, I just sometimes disagree with how they're deployed. As they probably do, too.

At the moment, I'm feeling conflicted because someone who knows a great deal about the Pentagon's plans for Iran is in town, and Lord Baby and I are home watching Peter Pan (the original, at least, not the gaseous sequel) while Lord Wife is out downing martinis as a warm-up for her trip to an upscale hotel spa a thousand miles away this weekend. She's going there to work on her script, the one that's been picked up by a successful producer for "packaging" into a movie. It's called "Who's Got Muffy? and was my idea. She and her actor-writer friend plan to work on it intensively and then relax with circadian meditations. (No, no. I'm not making this up, although sometimes, I wish...)

Anyhow, this someone who's in town tonight is the kind of person disgruntled generals slip operational plans to. Ever hear the phrase "loose lips sink ships?" Well, screw loose lips. It's waaay past that now. These days, people in the Pentagon are handing over copies of 500 page battle plans to journalists, professors, and spies in the hope they can get them out into the open, where someone might care enough to stop a no-win war with Iran. Things are in a pretty odd state when the only real resistance to Manifest Neo-Destiny rests in the officer class and the CIA. But that's where we are. Worse, Tom S. invited me out to meet this compelling thought-traitor, and I can't go.

So, ok. Back to the Special Forces in Iran thingie. There's this guy who knows this guy who has a friend who has run many of the Pentagon's war games, including ones for Iran and North Korea in 2004. The friend's name is Colonel Sam Gardner, and he is now retired. Colonel Gardner was on a talking head show this week, and told the interviewer in an exhausted tone that, yes, correct, there are Special Forces teams in Iran right now. Old news. News broken since March of this year, and before. Sam wrote a paper recently titled "The End of the Summer of Diplomacy: Assessing US Military Options on Iran." As these things go, it's a brilliant, beautiful, even poignant paper. It's like watching footage of British soldiers obediently, stoically, and methodically marching in forsaken line abreast into no-mans land to be mowed down by machine gun fire, already having accepted death. A professional master of strategy was asked to run up against his last nemesis, he knowingly did so, and gave his all. Only the enemies he bravely trudged toward weren't Iran or North Korea. I read his paper so you don't have to. Here are the closing lines:

When I finished the 2004 Iran war game exercise, I summarized what I had learned in the process. After all the effort, I am left with two simple sentences for policymakers. "You have no military solutions for the issues of Iran. You have to make diplomacy work." I have not changed my mind. That conclusion made sense then. It still makes sense today.


Don't count on the Bush Administration to start making sense. They're crazier than Mormons on Mescal, and they not only despise party poopers like Sam Gardner, they take vengeance upon them for fun. All I'm saying is that there's hope for a cynical oil deal that buys some time, and even if not, there's probably a little time left before Iran is hit with airstrikes. After that, the cops bust in and people start running for the doors.

How long? I am reminded that Hitler's diplomat von Ribbentrop, the Bolton of his day, and Stalin's diplomat Molotov (of cocktail fame), drank and literally danced together in the Kremlin. They were birds of a feather, it was before their coming cataclysm, and when they sat down to talk they recognized and understood each others as old friends would have. The same is true of the regime in Iran and the regime here, who understand each other as only as grifting, usurping, snake-handling tent revivalist religious extremists can. Although there probably isn't much drinking tonight between them, and dancing is a big no-go. Ribbentrop and Molotov signed a non-aggression pact. It lasted a couple of years, during which they divvied up Poland. Here's hoping we get that long for our teetotaling thugs to divvy up Iraq. May Lord Wife enjoy her martinis to the last drops.

And now, even as I write this, Peter Pan's love interest Wendy is crossing her arms with maximum petulance and saying, "Squaw no get-um firewood. Squaw go home." So maybe it's not all Fluechte nach Vorne (flights forward) and Reversions to the Mean. Maybe cultural revolutions have engineered progressive equalities. And maybe BushCo will finally, finally draw a lucky card, and someone else will fold.

Can You Read This?

Fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid, too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe tuo fo 100 anc. i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh, and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

(Hta tip ot my mmo.)

Tuesday, September 19, 2006


Let's...Make...A Deal!

So, I was driving down the street early this evening listening to NPR. Over the screams of my wife and son (I sometimes drive a tad aggressively, so my wife gets nauseous and my son gets joyful) I made out a live report from Ted Koppel in Tehran. As in, Ted's in the capitol city of Iran. I couldn't quite hear what he was saying, but thought to myself over the screech of family and melting tires, "Hmmm, why would Ted Koppel be in Tehran?" I smell a deal. Somebody tipped Ted's bosses off that he should have his butt reporting live there, as our preznit and Iran's traded insults at the UN.

We're hated for our freedoms, cha-cha-cha.

Poker players and game show contestants want to keep going until the other players have no money, and they have all of it. Both the US and Iran benefit from the US being in Iraq, and the game conveniently goes on. It's no-limit betting, the pot is big, and Iran has even started to think it's going to be the House. So all the stuff about nu-kyu-lur weaponry is a ridiculous smokescreen. Nukes are a possible end, and gunfire has been known to erupt over poker tables, but this is more like a bunch of Texas Hold 'Em twits who wear their tough sunglasses under casino lights and keep a chrome-plated Beretta in their hotel room. The pupils of the eyes are the easiest tell, so the sunglasses are for the game; the gun is for when it's too late. Of course the smart thing for most gamers is to walk away from the table or from Monty Hall with their money, but hardly anyone does that.

I could be wrong. Very well could be. I'm not going to even try to support my position with sources and links because this game has been going on from now back to holidays in Afghanistan through T.E. Lawrence in Baquba to Marc Anthony and Cleopatra huffing naptha fumes. But the outline of the desired deal with Iran could look like this:

1) partition Iraq into a federation with three states along its natural fault lines, and jointly ensure their sovereignty.
2) Assist Iran with (US-supplied) nuclear energy production in exchange for oil lease contracts, cooperative non-violence, and implicit allegiance.
3) Call off the NATO blockade, the one which would be completed when the fleet and ground forces parked in the eastern Med invade Syria, and use Iran to solidify the US hold on Pipeline-istan (Caspian Sea hydrocarbon resources and Afghanistan pipeline routes).

It's what I would do. It would rein in Russian and Chinese energy ambitions in the Oil Triangle for a while, but allow them a controlled minority position. Either way, I'm fairly confident (but, unfortunately, Ted, am in no way certain) the White House wouldn't drop a nuke onto a loyal terrier's toupee-ridden head in Tehran. That's the good news. The not-so-good news is BushCo wants all the money, and Iran's pot has gotten bigger. BushCo still wants regime change in Iran, and is trying to "spread democracy" there, too. NATO is in Afghanistan now, right on Iran's border, and Special Forces units are on the ground in Iran. So the game isn't going to stop. But ever since Reagan, US military doctrine is to only invade or bomb countries that can't defend themselves, and Iran definitely doesn't fit that bill. And even the toughest games eventually break for dinner and a bathroom trip. Heck, maybe even for a commercial.


Iraq For Sale

This guy named Robert Greenwald did a documentary I didn't see, but I hear it was pretty good. It was called Walmart: The High Cost of Low Price. Now he's done one called Iraq For Sale. I don't think it's yet well understood how staggeringly large and utterly craven the waste in Iraq has been, and it looks like the movie interviews the people who witnessed some of it. In the movie trailer, for example, one firm with a trucking contract is said to send empty boxes 'round Iraq, getting unprotected drivers killed for a pointless yet billable trip, and billing...umm, do you still pay your taxes? There was never an exit plan because there was never any intention to leave. Iraq is supposed to be a protectorate just like Puerto Rico, only with 100 billion more barrels of oil.

Companies have been getting away with murder in Iraq from the get-go. Wars have a way of encouraging corporate corruption (the US Civil War was a beaut) but this war is different in its conception. Difficult as it was, I accepted simple profit motive as the ideological basis of the plan to invade. Profit may have been conjoined with other objectives, but the free market sentiment kept cropping up so prominently and repeatedly in neo-con writings about Iraq that straining to deny the motive gives intellectual hernias. I certainly can't tell where "free market" ends and "spreading democracy" begins in neo-con rhetoric. They're used interchangeably. The whole strategy was to let the post-war tactics take care of themselves. Like, if we just unleash the market mechanism and set up a democracy, there's a fabulous amount of money for everbody to make, and not off the oil. That, we keep for ourselves.

Progressive blogger Christy Hardin Smith over at Firedoglake drew my attention to this new documentary by putting up a spoof clip of its director posing as the CEO of Halliburton, only coming clean.

Monday, September 18, 2006


See, The Ecosystem Still Works

Always out there, always thinkin,' always compensating and trying to keep things in balance. From the creeping grex of pond slime, through the Second Law of Thermodynamics, out into metaphysics and the holographic universe, and then, according to this news story, back into hawks predating upon the unwary rich.

As one interviewee rather drily claims, the story became news when the hawks began to attack people in the good section of Rio and molest bathers on Ipanema beach. He says the hawks have been attacking people in poor neighborhoods a long time, where they find it funny. Rich people have found little humor in having their scalps torn off by the talons of dive-bombing raptors steadfastly protecting the nests of their young. You see, the hawks are thriving because of a plentiful amount of open garbage, which in turn makes life grand for pigeons and rats, which...oh shit a haaaaawwwwwwwwk!!!!

Sometimes God isn't so mysterious. Sometimes things happen because they must, because they are more or less guaranteed. And of course, the Rio-hawks are also taking advantage of a loophole in the ecosystem, in which they're protected under Brazil's current environmental laws. I imagine they'll be shot or relocated or something soon, knocked off their smug perches of entitlement. All the same, rich or poor, you turn your back on the ecosystem at your peril.

About 15 years ago I read this collection of Harlan Ellison short stories. The very one in the graphic above. Back before I was a parent I had nothing better to do than pointless things like that. Not long after reading it I finally realized science fiction writers weren't writing fiction, they were writing brutal Darwinian truths set off in (supposedly safe) fantasy-lands. So I retreated back into my comfort food for awhile, reading about the energy wars of the 20th century. But lemme tell ya, that Harlan guy is one sick pup. In one of his imagined parallel futures, huge deathbirds had evolved to attack freeway commuters in their cars. Every once in a while, a big ol' bird wheeling patiently up in the atmosphere would spot a gap in the defenses, swoop down, slice a car roof open, and fly away with a screaming occupant before anyone knew what hit them. Sick. And for the moment, I hope, unlikely.

Sunday, September 17, 2006


Pontiff Part Deux

An obviously intelligent and well-spoken but anonymous person commented on my last post. Whoa! Weird how such folks could possibly find their way here, but it's happened a few times and it's always flattering to get an insightful, well-supported comment. (Thank you, anonymoose.) The upshot was they are glad for the Pope's recent statements because it's better to call out Islam for its perpetuation or allowance of cruelty to various groups like women. I'm inclined to generally agree, particularly because some of the gruesome things perpetuated by branches of Islam make me want to clean and load my deer rifle. But I'm still not glad. Very un-glad. The comment forced me to better think about why I wish His Eminence had the good sense to keep his trap shut over that one quote about Mohammed being evil; first, a great deal rides on how you call something bad out, and there's not a lot of negotiating upside there.

Beyond that quote, the rest of the speech was a call for more patience and consideration for faith, tempered with tolerance, in public dialogue. Which is fine. The thing that worries me, which "I Meant No Offence, You Godless Towel-Heads" meant to convey, is how easily you get a sense from the speech and its regrets of what the Pope, the bureaucrats around him, and thus a substantial portion of their billion followers really think about Islam. At best it sends a mixed message, which doesn't accomplish anything. At worst it comes off as high-handed, intrasigent, and hypocritical. At worse than worst, it was condescendingly naive to a stunning extent. I think this last possibility is the strongest likelihood and most bothersome. Some Church leaders went on record to indicate what the problem might be:

“They have nobody to really ask,” said the Rev. Thomas Michel, secretary for inter-religious dialogue for the Jesuit order of priests. “Whoever looked at it and let that go through is someone who doesn’t understand Muslims at all.”

In February, Benedict reassigned the Vatican’s most senior Arab expert, Archbishop Michael Fitzgerald, then the head of inter-religious dialogue, to Cairo as the Vatican envoy there. The move was seen at the time by some church experts as a sign of Benedict’s skepticism about the value of dialogue with Muslims.

“I think one may say, if it is not too impolite, that it is time to bring back Monsignor Fitzgerald,” Mr. Melloni, the Vatican scholar, said.

If you read the full NYT article at the link above, you'll notice that a nun and her bodyguard were shot to death over the weekend. Causality or causuistry? You be the judge, but I think a telling problem is emerging. In toto, the Pope seems to be out of his element when it comes to the Mid-East, does not seem to be truly focused on a solution, and his going there will likely add to our immediate troubles. The root cause of the problem may be that he seems to lack the air of true humility so inherent in John Paul. Prada shoes are more his line. (No, really, they are.)

We can probably agree that more condescending naivete is not what we need for engaging Islamic leaders in positive dialogues. It sure wasn't what we needed for invading and pacifying Iraq. Give me anyone from Lucretia Borgia to Albert Schweitzer so long as they can negotiate well and come up with constructive solutions. And while we're at it, here's what I think we should look for when shopping for a Pope: ideally we want the guy who wears those sandals above. We want "The Shoes of the Fisherman." Failing that, we'll take a sincere and humble old Polack. (John Paul was the first pontiff to ever visit a mosque back on his 2001 visit to Syria.) Good managers come up with workable solutions to complex problems, the Clash of Civilizations tends to be a bit on the complex side, and poor managers get a lot of good people hurt.

One thing I do know. Good managers, and good leaders, pretty much always start off by moving things in a good direction. This isn't it.

Friday, September 15, 2006


I Meant No Offence, You Godless Towel-Heads

I've always had a soft spot for the Catholic Church, in no small part due to past experiences with Catholic girls. In fact, "undying gratitude" is not too strong a term, and it's probably time to drop by the diocese across the freeway and write out a big check. Not being Catholic, I also have no need to dislike the Pope; he has yet to nag me with a single proclamation or hit me up for a donation. On top of that, when I was a junior in high school, my football coaches (named Precopio and Recesso, quite a pair) were staunch Catholics and made sure the entire team went to services the morning of a Friday night home game. So I have gladly taken communion in all seriousness, if not propriety.

Notwithstanding the above the new Pope left me feeling a little cold, and it wasn't the Hitler Youth thing, the anti-gay stuff, or the Bo Peep hook. All understandable. But now I'm starting to get why. The Pope started quite a flap with Islam this week. What the hell was he thinking? This is not Klaus the Retiree we're talking about, some fart laureate holding forth on a park bench over a case of Spaten beer bottles; the Pope has an entire staff of scholars which carefully vets his speeches for positive and negative effects. I have been described as a planter of verbal hand grenades, but can't make sense of this one. Riots ensued in places like Cairo and Istanbul, churches were fire-bombed in the West Bank. Muslim anger will be sustained over time, and Benedict is slated to make a peace tour (cough*ka-boom*hack) through a host of Muslim nations. Going forward, only a historian could love this.

Oh, the flap? In a speech to academics in Regensburg, the Pope used a quote from some 14th century crusade-era Persian emperor who called the Prophet Mohammed a violent, evil good-for-nothing bastard. Granted, Mohammed's doctrines of enlightenment and spreading Islam by the sword are a tad contradictory. But Catholicism was not exactly the May Queen in this regard, either, and the mound of heathen and heretic bodies piled up in its own past is impressively vast. When Charlemagne conquered Germany's pagans, Ratzinger's forebears, the method of conversion was gentle: bury a tribal elder up to his neck and say, "Be baptized or we play chuckers with your head." So a certain irony is apparent. And surely the Evil Bastard quote would've gone over a lot better if the West weren't busy invading the heart of Islam again.

Consider: let's say you're leading your spouse, your kids, and a troop of other parents' kids down the sidewalk. You see a very large steaming mound of fresh horse manure in front of you. Do you lead your charges directly through it, or do you take the humble, simple expedient of widely skirting the mound, warning those behind and waving the flies away? I want to like the Pope. I sense the fanned flames of a cynical press looking to start a fight to sell ad copy, so I went to read his entire speech. It was scholarly, well-meant, and in places even high-minded. But it was also muddled and self-contradictory, and sounds just proud and vain enough in tone to lead 1 billion followers through an ugly, steaming manure pile without apology.

Should my opinions above understandably offend any Catholics, I have two things to note, and respectfully request reflection upon them. First, because I am from the West and white, the Pope also represents me and mine, and he just made our lives and those of many followers of Christ more dangerous. Second, I can't imagine John Paul would've ever done this.

Terror Clown

I'm sure many of you, back when you used to listen to speeches given by the Greatest Leader of All Time, began to wonder, "What would Dubya look like in a clown outfit?" Wonder no longer, me hearties. Bush seems to have a genuine flair for stage props and outfits. There was Commander Codpiece. There's the Brush Clearin' Fool. There's the Drunken Frat Boy (i.e., status quo persona). And now there's this look. Somehow it just feels...right.

It was just a lucky find. I was googling to see if there were any images to illustrate the word "bozosphere," (fighter jock slang for altitudes above 30,000 feet) and the graphic above came up as the fourth hit. Interestingly, I then looked for images of Bill Clinton as a clown, searching three different ways. No luck. If you come across any good images of Clinton as Bozo, please point me to them or send one along. Now I'm thinking of one of those super-hero debate questions: who would make the better birthday party clown...Bush, or Clinton?

Thursday, September 14, 2006


This Is Encouraging...

On the subject of torture, I want to go on the record. If a suspected terrorist or enemy soldier ever falls into your hands and you need the truth out of them, here is what you must do: feed them, get them high, and get them laid as quickly as possible. They'll tell you everything they know in short order, and no phony stuff about their cousin being a Mossad double-agent, either. And if a nuclear bomb is going to blow up your city in two hours, trust me here, Bruce Willis is just an actor and torture isn't going to save you anyway. If you stick to getting information the right way, at least you'll still have an enjoyable time and maybe build up some good karma.

Colin Powell wrote a letter to John McCain yesterday. He notes that continuing to torture our enemies will hurt our soldiers and make people question our national sexual orientation. (Better late than never, Colin baby! What's a matta, the $100k-a-pop lecture circuit drying up?) All the previous moral dissonance which kept his mouth shut now swept aside, this is a fantastic sign if you're sick of sadomasochistic military policies. In my book, torturing insane people and then taking what they tell you as gospel, well that clears the sadomasochistic bar. Gotta be something wrong in your mind or your body if you're pulling that stuff. But I digress. My point is, if the career spokesgeneral who covered up the My Lai massacre for the army is sticking his neck this far out of his shell now, is it because he thinks it's finally safe to do so? He didn't even send the letter to the White House first, so that's a little ass-moon he threw in extra. I know a lot of you like Powell cuz he's so darned likeable. Sorry for taking the shot at him. I like him, too, really I do. Especially now.

John Warner, Republican chair of the Senate Armed Services committee, voted the Preznit's Torture Bill down (it passed the House). Bravo, Mr. Warner. That took guts, and he has stood against the Preznit on this same principle before. 4 other Republicans joined him to throw the bill back 15-9. The best support the White House could manage to get came after waterboarding a few of the Pentagon's top military lawyers. The lawyers were then willing to sign a letter saying 'they "do not object" to sections of Bush's proposal for the treatment of detainees.' They had refused to sign a previous version of the letter, and threatened to resign.

Victories are sweet, and this is one for our country. We know the Bush Administration is going to go ahead and do what it wants anyway, and the pig ain't flying yet. But it's trying. It's trying.

Update: Reader Al C. pointed out that there's one less fluttering pig than I had counted last night. Only a total of 4 Republican Senators on the Committee on Armed Services voted against the Enhanced Torture Bill: Warner-VA, McCain-AZ, Collins-Maine, and Graham-SC. 13 Pugs and 11 Dims. Man, there's some real winners on the Red side of that committee. Planet Xenophobe.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006


Quiche Du Jour

The drowsy chill of Fall has come to the Northwest right on time, on the heels of a great and delightfully sunny Summer. On this blog, I've been trying to follow the "It Won't All Be Doom and Gloom, God-Dammit" policy. You might call it the Quiche Policy. Which it's good to pause on the beautiful, the well-crafted and exceptional. Or just the good. God knows there is so much for us to be thankful for. Plus, whenever I write something about great food, or send you to www.cuteoverload.com, or put cats in microwaves, I've probably got a fastball ready for you, heading high inside and more or less for your chin.

So here's an artistic installment, something from a while ago. I once bought a popular collection of Rilke's poems in English and German. I had loved the original German, so I looked for the best translation I could find, none of which captured greatness in English, but some of which were at least reasonably complete. Rilke's 'Panther' was in the one I got, a good effort, but you know how some things really can't be translated. Or shouldn't be tried, not without first seeing the world through the artist's eyes. There was one piece in particular where I thought the translator (someone who probably devoted a large portion of their life to subtle linguistic study and who did the best they could to lovingly convert Rilke's poetry into English) had royally screwed it up, and that I could at least do better. On some random trains and planes and late nights in bed, I tried working it out into our language, a piece of Rilke's which might by feel be called "Equinox." Strictly translated it would be: "Fall Day."

Lord: it is time. The summer's gone, you know.
Send Thy shadow long over sundials,
and loose Thine winds across the meadows.

Let each fruit swell on its tree and vine.
And send us, yet, two more southerly days
for urging onto consummations, to chase
their last sweet drops into heavy wines.

He who has no house now, builds no better.
He who is alone, will long stay so.
I will sit, and watch, and write long letters,
and in the lanes pace to and fro,
restless, as the dry leaves blow.

Here's the original German:

Herbsttag

Herr: es ist Zeit. Der Sommer war sehr groß.
Leg deinen Schatten auf die Sonnenuhren,
und auf den Fluren laß die Winde los.

Befiehl den letzten Früchten voll zu sein;
gieb ihnen noch zwei südlichere Tage,
dränge sie zur Vollendung hin und jage
die letzte Süße in den schweren Wein.

Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hin und her
unruhig wandern, wenn die Blätter treiben.

Rainer Maria Rilke

I Mean, What Could Possibly Go Wrong?


WASHINGTON (AP) -- Nonlethal weapons such as high-power microwave devices should be used on American citizens in crowd-control situations before being used on the battlefield, the Air Force secretary said Tuesday.

The object is basically public relations. Domestic use would make it easier to avoid questions from others about possible safety considerations, said Secretary Michael Wynne.

"If we're not willing to use it here against our fellow citizens, then we should not be willing to use it in a wartime situation," said Wynne. "(Because) if I hit somebody with a nonlethal weapon and they claim that it injured them in a way that was not intended, I think that I would be vilified in the world press."

The Air Force has paid for research into nonlethal weapons, but he said the service is unlikely to spend more money on development until injury problems are reviewed by medical experts and resolved.

Nonlethal weapons generally can weaken people if they are hit with the beam. Some of the weapons can emit short, intense energy pulses that also can be effective in disabling some electronic devices.

Ummm...yes. I seem to recall tests of a microwave beam weapon which makes an unruly crowd member feel as if his or her skin is being burned off. (Mainly, because it is. By a microwave beam.) Well, it's only a focused 95-Gigahertz beam, which isn't enough to cause permanent damage. Unless some unappreciative trouble-maker gets caught in it for about the time it takes to write this sentence. Fortunately, the idea is to rely on the weapon operator to turn the beam off or away from you soon enough to not do lasting damage. So it's perfectly safe. Just needs a little more fine tuning, is all.

Still, I'm confused. I think this Air Force guy is saying he's scared what other nations will do if we use the Burn Blaster on their people and some of them get hurt...so to avoid a PR hassle we need to use it here first, where it's not such a problem if something goes wrong? Forget everything I said in my post yesterday. Everything's going to be just fine because we're going to stop pissing off other countries by zapping them with unproven weapons. In fact, go max out a credit card or two.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006


What's Going to Happen

At its root, fascism quashes dissent in order to temporarily gain high efficiencies in pursuit of key objectives. Fascism can be hard to recognize when not donning its stereotypical jackboots and mustache, and in fact can look quite dapper in a good suit and tie. In post-modern memory, however, our understanding has been distorted by old images from the desperate conflicts of the last century, the repetition and amplification of which have served up ever-ready and all-present, but incomplete and misleading, icons. In short, fascism has become difficult to think about clearly on one's own, much less discuss with others. But it's alive and well. It has much to do with what has happened to the US, and what is going to happen here next. It has much to do with our country's direction, with the pseudo-intellectuals broadcasting an overarching, hermetic ideology and fake dialogues specifically designed to drown out discourse and reason. Fascist regimes do not engage in public debate.

It is probably the oldest form of government, in which a group of stakeholders begins a process to set aside differences, decides on ends and means, designates a leader, and throws its collective weight into decisive action. Often, this "action" means violent aggression which cannot be averted once the pre-scripted acts begin. When a bunch of chimpanzees decides, via the signals of their species, to band together to kill another of their kind, their marriage of convenience does not organizationally differ from fascism. For at time, they must share a strongly held ideology; for example, "Bongo has stolen his last banana." And for our own species, the popularity of the TV show 'Survivor' may be more in sync with the times than we realize.

Fascism has a multitude of markers. But it can be discerned early on by its deepest hallmarks: rigid adherence to an ideology, especially in the face of contrary evidence or common sense, and in the way it silences more active dissent. A better description of "silences dissent" might be that fascism seeks to disconnect the effects of dissent from policy in order to maintain the momentum of a pre-achieved consensus. The Nazis were perfectly willing to beat dissenters to death in the streets or send uncooperative minorities away to torture and death; for them, that was deemed socially acceptable, even praiseworthy by many. As planners, however, what they most feared was the prospect of putting housewives to work in factories, and this they did not do until 1943. They didn't think the German people would grant them such a sacrifice, and were amazed when they got away with it.

There are much more sophisticated, sustainable, and one might say "green" means of disconnecting dissent than Hitler or Mussolini employed. People can be silenced without blood, without dragging them out to jails for beatings in the middle of the night (although minorities can attest that's still a common part of the toolkit). People can be denied tenure. They can be punished for whistle-blowing. They can be sent envelopes of weaponized anthrax. They can be fired like General Shinseki was (for saying pacification of Iraq would require 500,000 troops). They can be passed over for promotion or hire. Reporters with Pulitzer Prizes can be shut out of the mainstream press. Anyone's communications can be eavesdropped on. Most of the above is entirely within the law, if you are the law. In the realm of cultural reinforcement, reality can be created; protests can be ignored, stories can be spun, casualties and incidents of sabotage can be unreported or denied. As a White House aide related to Ron Suskind in 2002:

"...guys like me were "in what we call the reality-based community," which he defined as people who "believe that solutions emerge from your judicious study of discernible reality." I nodded and murmured something about enlightenment principles and empiricism. He cut me off. "That's not the way the world really works anymore," he continued. "We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality. And while you're studying that reality - judiciously, as you will - we'll act again, creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that's how things will sort out. We're history's actors . . . and you, all of you, will be left to just study what we do."
Now there's your democracy in action, staying one step ahead of your reality. What do you think, was that anonymous aide Ari Fleischer, or Karl Rove? Sounds like Ari to my ear. Josef Goebbels held those precise sentiments, and some of his pronouncements could be translated into exactly the same English. This combination of propaganda technique and policy action is a perfect fit with what has begun to be referred to in scholarly circles as "soft" or "friendly" fascism. Catchy phrases, but really what it's referring to is as old as Greece, with the same primal tendencies observable in any group of chimps concerned with status, food, and territory. You can maintain control of the monologue and erase past fuck-ups by starting into a bigger one. Political structures which rely on fascist techniques are hard to sustain because the punishment they must dish out creates a lot of friction, requiring in turn yet more punishment to maintain forward momentum. The ante can't forever be upped, however; in its late stages, the fascist group turns on its own, and then on itself, bestially capable of breaking the strongest taboos. The Neo-cons are now entering their late stage.

Soft fascism can transition into hard fascism. This occurs more often than not when its policy objectives begin to be thwarted, and our fascists are seeing theirs start to fade beyond reach. Look at their world! Neo-con allies are faltering or have already checked out. Iraq, already a bankrupting, morally sapping quagmire, has lapsed into civil war. An Israeli invasion into Lebanon was defeated by a political party. Venezuela has new oil customers. Mexico may break apart. Iran is well-armed, aware, and refuses to be cowed. China is ascending, patient, and has bought oil out from under our noses, even from Canada, with cash we paid to them. Russia has money from energy and weapons. Bush had to sell India nuclear technology.

I'm not exactly sure how the Neo-cons will respond to these setbacks. But their playbook is known, and I have a pretty good idea what Josef Goebbels would've done in the same situation. It would've involved scaring the shit out of the German people and coming down very hard on majority dissent. The words "sent to the Russian Front" still have a peculiar ring to them, don't they? I believe the Neo-cons are currently considering how to bring the battlefield closer to Americans. Call it a hunch. When have fascists ever gone quietly? (Franco and Tito did, yes, but their imperatives were for domestic order, not expansion.)

On the cultural side, the 9/11 movie which ABC is airing again tonight is an apparent Neo-con effort to create a reality which will trump historians, Hollywood, the press, and emerging cultural arbiters like blogs. It's an early experiment in the new campaign that features "islamofascism," and a sign of bigger things to come, probably symptomatic of a desire to escalate into a "Total War" stance. The Neo-cons have also seen the blogsphere, its growth worries them, and they realize the dissent which lives here can't be silenced without either drowning it out or integrating their propaganda across it. They don't understand the internet yet, much less blogs. None of us really does. They don't fully comprehend that blogs are the kernels of new governments, their structure ideally suited to transparency and participatory democracies. Jefferson's bastard children.

In attacking the blogsphere (I mean, beyond simply demonizing it) the Neo-cons will attack the very fabric of what it is to be an American, and will hasten their own demise. The cats are out of the bag, peeing under the church pews, hissing and clawing the Establishment's legs raw. The dogs have been called by now, but the technology-based blogsphere is a printing press, a church door Martin Luther pinned his proclamation on, and a magic meeting house all rolled into one. It's a naturally legislative infrastructure which allows for far greater spans of control than machine politics, easier internal and external consensus building, voting, recording, and more flexible responding. Blogs are governments without an 'off' switch. And it's too late to turn them all off.

Before they are utterly defeated, Neo-cons will leave much greater devastation and waste in their wake than they already have, and they almost certainly will turn on us, the radical middle and silent majority, directly before it is over. It might hurt a lot. But it will pass. We have the memories to rebuild democracy, and fantastic new tools to spread it--not at the barrel of a gun, but by internalization, direct exchange of ideas, and free adoption. Our old ships of state are tearing apart, as maintenance of old infrastructure is bankrupting them while new technology pulls them past the speeds they are capable of going. As Bette Davis said, "Buckle your seat belts, everybody. It's going to be a bumpy ride." Democracy will be back, stronger than ever it was in Athens.

Sunday, September 10, 2006



Don't Know About You, But I Am Un...Chien On Delusion


A NYT article about Dick Cheney last night claims he's losing it:

Measuring the accumulation or the erosion of power is an imprecise art. But interviews with more than 45 people over the past five months — including current and former White House aides, foreign diplomats, members of Congress and confidants of Mr. Cheney — painted a picture of a vice president who, while still influential, has seen his power wane.

Most agreed to speak candidly only if their names were not used. Mr. Cheney himself declined repeated requests for an interview. Instead, his office encouraged Ms. Rice and Mr. Hadley to give interviews to dispute the view that Mr. Cheney’s power is in decline.

The article provides a surprisingly good brief on the mechanics of that "decline," noting how the indictment of Cheney's aide Scooter Libby weakened lobbying and internal security functions. Of course, the article's timing is safe, because last week we saw the first real confirmations of a shift away from the Neo-cons. First, the Senate Intelligence Committee emerged, turtle-like, to state pre-war intel on Iraq was a hoax (never mentioning their role in it). Then another Senate committee failed to confirm John Bolton, Cheney's enforcer. So suddenly everyone is feeling frisky, but not bold enough to go on the record against Cheney, who may not be as influential but is every bit as dangerous.

And from his appearance on Press the Meat this morning, The Debaser is being allowed to retract his oft-repeated earlier claims about about Iraq's connection with 9/11 without any explanation or apology. Russert gives him a pass and a pat on the butt. Guess we'll have to wait for the Sixth Estate (comedians like Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert) to dig up the old clips and quotes for a compare-contrast.

The title of this post first refers to the surrealistic 1928 French film "Un Chien Andalou" by the influential Spanish auteur Luis Bunuel. In a precursor of post-modern politics, the film starts off with a scene in which an eyeball is being cut open. The Pixies, one of my favorite bands, did a 1989 punk song about the movie called "Debaser," and they change the reference slightly to "I am un chien andalusia" (I'm an Andalusion dog.) It seemed natural to take the phrasing a little further.

Got me a movie
I want you to know
Slicing up eyeballs
I want you to know
Girlie so groovy
I want you to know
Don't know about you
But I am un chien Andalusia

I am un chien Andalusia (x3)

Wanna grow
Up to be
Be a debaser

Saturday, September 09, 2006




9/11 Press for Truth Trailer

The Bush Administration has been up-front about Iraq, their business ties to the Bin Laden family, energy policy meetings, Enron, deficits, Medicare, budgets, and about how Dubya's brother Marvin and cousin Bert Walker bought the company that provided security for the World Trade Center a few months before it was hit. So we need not doubt their account of how 9/11 went down, and if now they're saying that Clinton was to blame, that's good enough for me. My understanding is this documentary, which appears to scurrilously impugn the good intentions of our leaders by blowing a few minor coincidences and discrepancies all out of proportion, is going to be allowed to open NYC and Chicago theaters. What's the country coming to?

And for those misguided souls who actually believe there was some kind of cover-up on 9/11, well, even if it were so they'd just be driving with a rear-view mirror. Five years is ancient in the media age. No, if you were so sick as to seriously believe the Bush Administration to be capable of such a horrible thing, it would be a lot more productive to ask yourself, "What are they going to do next?"

Friday, September 08, 2006


If I Were A Bettin' Man

Fortunately, I don't bet. I prefer to put my money in safe havens like the stock market. And dollars. John Bolton, pictured above, is the United States Ambassador to the UN. He's been stalking around there for about a year by recess appointment. This week the congressional foreign affairs committee in charge of rubber-stamping White House decisions couldn't scare up the votes to confirm Bolton's appointment, despite heavy pressure. Admittedly, this is interesting, since it means a couple Republicans were ready to vote against him. Now, there are many in the liberal blogsphere who say this means that Bolton will be sent to flamethrow greener pastures, and be replaced with someone else. Someone with less personality. Ahhh...no. Or at least, I seriously doubt it. 5-1 odds against Bolton going anywhere.

Cheney and the neo-cons sent Bolton from the future on a one-way mission to bust up the UN. Cheney (through Boosh) will tell Congress to go...sedate itself...and Bolton is going to stay right where he is, head-butting the UN building down one wall at a time. Congress-critters will run like cockroaches away from a light rather than publicly vote on the matter, and the whole thing will dangle in limbo, right like it is now. My bet is Bolton will keep going after Iran until he accidentally crawls into a car crusher.

For a full, more professional view on the particulars, go over and see Steve Clemons at The Washington Note, who has been on Bolton's case like Sarah Connor in T2. Steve's also a lot more hopeful, knowledgeable, and influential than I am.

Thursday, September 07, 2006



Aircraft Carrier Listing


Israel has long been described in security circles as "America's stationary aircraft carrier in the Mid-East." Well, the hull is seamed and water is gaining on the bilge pumps. Here's what Ben Eliezer (former Israeli Defense Minister) had to say Wednesday:

Given the missed goals of Israel’s venture into the Lebanon war, it is no wonder that Binyamin Ben Eliezer, minister of infrastructure in the Olmert cabinet and a former defense minister, said bluntly Wednesday Sept. 6 that this was Israel’s worst defeat in all the wars it fought. Domestic criticism of the government spreads day by day as the bizarre, muddled and incomprehensible nature of the prime minister’s war decisions continues to mark his actions three weeks later.


Unlike the press here, where not even NPR reporting will put it this way, Israeli ground forces were soundly thrashed in Lebanon. It's being widely discussed as a defeat amongst Israelis for the following reasons:

1. Morale is very low over the two captured soldiers, since there has been no public evidence given they're still alive or in good condition. You'd think Olmert could've negotiated a Red Cross visit by now.

2. Hizballah is stronger than ever, still in South Lebanon, jubilant and armed to the teeth.

3. Olmert thinks UNIFIL-2's deployment South Lebanon achieves a stated goal of the invasion. Nobody else agrees, and Olmert and the commanding general of Israel's army are ready to kill each other.

4. UNIFIL-2 has been very clear that they won't disarm Hezbollah. Rather, participating armed forces have repeatedly insisted on defining when it's ok to shoot at Israelis. Seems like they remember how the IDF intentionally killed 4 UNIFIL soldiers with directed artillery fire while they were in a well-marked bunker.

5. The peacekeepers already in South Lebanon aren't enforcing UN Resolution 1701, which was intended to embargo weapons shipments to Hezbollah. Arms shipments strongly accelerated since peacekeeper arrival.

Here's the capper. Because of the Aircraft Carrier's horrible performance, Bush ordered a new National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) on Israel last month. According to Israeli security think tank www.Debka.com:

In his directive for an updated National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) on Israel, the US president wanted to find out if the mismanaged Lebanon War was a curable hiccup or the symptom of a deeper malady. He asked whether Israel is robust enough to continue to count as a strong and stable political and military force able to serve the United States as a Middle East ally and a strategic mainstay in the region.

Just how bad would it have to be for Fartacus to question Israel's continued utility as a military ally? Whether an NIE was ordered or not, military advisors must've broken the news to BushCo that the IDF isn't strong enough to take on Syria. This is very inconvenient, as Syria was next on The List. It has to be knocked out in order to close the ring around Iran.


Nasrallah For Prime Minister -- Of Israel

This is too good to not share. Nasrallah, chief of Hezbollah in Lebanon, did such a good job throughout the recent war that he's being recommended in the press to replace Israel's own prime minister (Olmert). Ha'aretz, Israel's largest daily newspaper, has a cracking good online journalist named Bradley Burston. I'm not sure why, because his name is about as Semitic as Lawrence of Arabia. However, it's much easier to understand why he calls his blog "A Special Place in Hell." Bradley's opinion piece of the above title has gotten picked up by World News and other international newspapers. Here's part of what he had to say:
If nature abhors a vacuum, imagine how it feels at this point about Israel's senior leadership.

The titular head of state, our model for probity, is looking down the barrel of rape charges. The army chief of staff, our model for dedication and sacrifice, took a break for a bit of financial planning just as the nation's leaders were deciding whether the military was ready, plans, supplies, training and all, to go to war.

The justice minister might have helped Olmert this week, had he not resigned over suspicions that he forced a French kiss on an unwilling young woman soldier.
Humph. That's fucked up. Of course it sounds like a fairly normal month here, only with greater accountability and a slightly less supine press. A few weeks ago I wrote that fallout from Israel's defeat wouldn't be long in coming. I've never been a habitual reader of Ha'aretz, but have been going there to check for cats and dogs falling out of the sky. Here are the first few. More developing for the next post.

America the Vulnerable

Somewhere today, the BushCo message machine (a/k/a "The Mighty Wurlitzer") is on rewind, and a few hundred writers are trying to fix the world with speeches, skimming unsure fingers across keyboards, doodling on yellow notepads, tearing off sheets and wadding them up and throwing them at wastebaskets, saying things like, "No! I've got the angle now!" The anniversary is coming right up, and they need to write something, anything to bring everything back into line. Poor bastards. They're trying to fight a dynamic as strong and as old as the hills, and they're on deadline. They will fail to say anything helpful, or anything honest. They will fail to lie well, and they'll even fail to horrify.

I remember the eleventh of September, five years ago. I had been expecting it, and even drove up the West Side Highway past the Towers before it happened. The collective American psyche had been expecting it, and knew it was coming for fifty years. You don't drop nuclear bombs on hundreds of thousands of women and children without payback coming sometime. The world never worked that way.

Something inside us fights and claws to get to the top of the hill. To get there, we have to knock someone off, and we have to use something bad to do it. Once we're up there, we knock others back down because something tells us we have to. You trump the jawbone of an ass your predecessor wielded with a sharpened copper axe. Eventually some wise guy gets tired of you, invents a bow and arrow and shoots you with it. That's how the world works, and we are right to fear it. That's why Tom Clancy books like "The Sum of All Fears" sell millions of copies, and that's how Peggy Noonan (she who wrote the "thousand points of light" speech for Poppy Bush) felt it coming and wrote this in 1998:

"...I think of the friend who lives on Park Avenue who turned to me once and said, out of nowhere, "If ever something bad is going to happen to the city, I pray each day that God will give me a sign. That He will let me see a rat stand up on the sidewalk. So I'll know to gather the kids and go." I absorbed this and, two years later, just a month ago, poured out my fears to a former high official of the United States government. His face turned grim. I apologized for being morbid. He said no, he thinks the same thing. He thinks it will happen in the next year and a half. I was surprised, and more surprised when he said that an acquaintance, a former arms expert for another country, thinks it will happen in a matter of months."

I remember the eleventh of September, five years ago. I had been expecting it, just not the way it came. It's hard to expect 19 unemployable, heavily accented losers who can't even fly a Cessna for shit to defeat NORAD, the FAA, and the US Air Force. And I'm not so sure they did; maybe their last day was their luckiest ever. Either way, I felt helpless in the aftermath, not because they finally got their targets. (We were lucky their weapons weren't what we would've used had we been in their place. What we had been expecting.) Rather my helpless sinking feeling was for the response that was sure to come, which would harness a lifetime's worth of paranoia, guilt, entitlement, triumphalism, self-righteousness, and sheer murderous ignorance. The worst impulses in us, of which the past five years have failed to disappoint. How to stop that I didn't know, not then and not now, but I love this country and would've done something if only I knew how. All I know is that our government keeps standing defiantly on top of a hill it can no longer hold, and there are more and more arrows sticking out of it.

There is another choice. It merely requires marching back down the hill and seeking medical help while there's still time. Are we exceptional enough to do that?

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


AbH Dinnertime: Dungeness Crab Quiche & Apple Pie

Like real men everywhere, I refrain from eating quiche. Unless it is placed in front of me, or I find it lurking in a refrigerator within a few paces of a microwave. Then I tackle it, stab it, and inhale it as if the act of its consumption were as manly as a eating a good-old fashioned TV dinner, a dirt-encrusted MRE, a 6-day old piece of cold pizza, hogs' knuckles, or whatever special diet Barry Bonds got from his trainer. (Hey, do 71 home runs lie? How manly was that?) As it happens, my mom is visiting from the Hood Canal, lovely home to the tasty and still plentiful Dungeness Crab, a few of which she artfully crammed into a quiche she made. And my mom didn't stop there. Food Dictators never do. She also made...an apple pie! A modern apple pie, deliciously made with Splenda. Mmm-hmmm. Thanks, mom!

And for all you red-necked he-men on your golf courses deciding between titanium or kevlar, or struggling into your fly-fishing waders, go ahead: call me a girlie-man. No quiche for you!
But They TOLD Me It Was Cleared For Carry-On!

Behold the weapon that drove the Soviets out of Afghanistan. Starting in 1986, the US supplied a couple thousand Stinger missiles to what were then affectionately known as "freedom fighters" in the US press, and hundreds of Soviet helicopters were downed in short order. Relatively cheap and portable (by donkeys and pickups, at least), control of the battlefield rapidly passed to the Stingers.

I've often wondered why Iran hasn't sold more of its SA-7 Strela surface-to-air missiles (SAMS) to various groups in Iraq or Afghanistan. These missiles were effective, maybe even decisive, in Lebanon for their ability to hold Israeli helicopters at bay, and there is recent evidence a few have already been used in Iraq to shoot down a few coalition helicopters. According to diplomatic sources, Iran is further supplying Hezbollah in Lebanon with a variety of SAMs, most of its own manufacture. Here's some further light reading on some of Iran's current missile technologies.


Iraqi Civil War, Official Start Date


It's been obvious for a long time that Iraq would devolve into civil war. As in, it was almost a foregone conclusion even before "the Coalition Forces" invaded. Right up until the bombing started, Saddam didn't fear a US invasion. He still had his forces prudently positioned against Iran, Kurdish separatists, and domestic Shiites.

For those of you who watch the news and see the subject brought up by airbrushed morons or artfully avoided by people with stars on their shoulders, you can stop now. The need for debate ended on Saturday. I had hoped to kick off the civil war myself by announcing it this week, but the Kurds beat me to it. The Iraqi civil war officially started on Saturday, September 2nd, 2006, when Massoud Barzani (the be-toweled dude pictured above) passed down an edict to stop flying the Iraqi state flag. I mean, look at Barzani. Isn't he just a big teddy bear? Go ahead, give him a big hug. Remember Fort Sumter, in the War Between the States? First thing the Southerners did was take down the Stars and Stripes and run up Ol' Dixie. I realize the nattering nabobs of networktivity have to fill a lot of airtime, but the case is closed. The Kurds just said they're no longer part of Iraq.

The neat thing about this is, Kurdistan has the most oil in Iraq, and also the closest thing to a real army. They're sure going to need both. The fulcrum of the conflict is in Kirkuk. That's where the oil nexus is and where the serious war will start. Logic dictates the US will back the Kurds to keep Turkey and Iranian proxies (amongst others) from invading them, but logic has been having an off decade, so you never know.

Update: I'm totally psyched. Somehow, a very knowledgeable commenter re: Iraq came here and wrote something very true:

The Kurds are taking their time. They're saving up billions of dollars, building a massive military force, and de-Arabising the north. When the time comes for them to declare independence--and according to a referendum in which 80% of Iraqi Kurds participated, 98.7% do indeed want independence--they will do so, and there is nothing anyone will be able to do to stop them. There will be no fighting because the Arabs would have no means of doing so.


The rest of the comment also correctly notes I make it sound like rejecting the flag happened all at once. It didn't. And agreed, the Arabs have no means of fighting the Kurds army-to-army. But that doesn't mean that fighting hasn't already occurred, or won't keep occurring, on less classical terms. My main assumptions are that the Kurds will take the oilfields west of Kirkuk in the short term, an act which meets my definition of a Civil War. As does a Sunni yet again blowing up the oil pipeline which crosses the Kirkuk province. In the long term, everyone around the Kurds will covet what they have, and I believe over time they face a tough go of it against Turkey and possibly Iran, with a lot of continuing low-level guerilla conflict against Sunni Arabs, and probably Shiites. In military terms, if you can't get the oil you deny it to your enemies, and it's much easier to blow up pipelines and facilities than it is to protect them. It kind of depends on your definition of Civil War, but the Kurds are now aggressors, and have been since they signed an oil drilling deal without anyone's approval last December.

Monday, September 04, 2006


The Architect

Seeing what unique people can achieve is one of the great joys in studying the past, and I really wasn't kidding in praising Karl Rove's startling intellect earlier this morning. In the aftermath of 9/11, for example, it started to dawn on me that someone had achieved an unprecedented, awesomely fine level of control over the press, and that all roads led back to Rove. I looked into Karl's background and found he was an originator of and gleeful participant in Nixon's Dirty Tricks campaigns. John Dean, a key player on Nixon's team, has studied Rove in depth and calls him "Haldemann and Erlichmann all in one." An apt description. As it happens, there's a book coming out tomorrow called The Architect: Karl Rove and the Master Plan for Absolute Power, and it looks to be the best research so far on the subject.

Among other things, it reveals that Rover is not a Christian, his mother committed suicide for no admitted reason, and the man he thought was his biological father (and whom he remained very close to) divorced his mother when he was a high school senior and lived an openly gay lifestyle thereafter. What's the matter with any of this? Nothing much, except all the above would, in effect, be crimes in the Permanent Majority as its foot soldier supporters envision it. That Rove and Ken Mehlman, the one-foot-in-the-closet gay Republican National Committee Chairman, have often crafted election strategies based on gay-bashing is a weirdly hypocritical wrinkle in history. (No interesting pscyhology angle here.)

James Martin, longtime Rove tracker and author of the new book above, dishes out the facts in today's HuffPost article, The Closets of Karl and Ken.

KEEP IT SCARY, STUPID


Animal fetishist Steve Irwin ("Crikey!") finally managed to get himself killed yesterday, may God rest his uniquely perverted soul. His end didn't come the way you would've thought. He was not run down by an enraged black mamba while stealing eggs from its nest. He did not expire from sticking his arm into a basket of confused cobras, from putting on a baby seal costume and swimming amongst killer whales, or from taking 20 mikes of LSD, strapping chicken breasts across his torso, smearing himself with barbeque sauce and splashing through the Everglades while singing "Waltzing Matilda." At night. Steve Irwin transcended the limits of his own imagination and died as perhaps no human being, sane or otherwise, had ever done before: he was stabbed in the heart by the barb of a sting ray he had managed to harrass into freaking out.

And this got me to thinking. I've got some issues of my own, and for some reason reflecting on Steve's manner of death, his garish approach to animals and life, made me wonder, "What is Karl Rove going to do about the Fall Elections?" Political machinations don't interest me enough to have studied them in any detail, in fact I've tried to remain ignorant of our national political processes much like I've tried to ignore or avoid women with aggressively fake boobs; to me, they're tiresome, deceitful, and aesthetically grotesque. When confronted with them, I maintain an uptight veneer of good manners, avert my gaze, and hope they go away. Which they never do. But obscured by fake boobs or not, I know genius when I see it.

Karl Rove is a genius, and for over thirty years he has ranged across the American political landscape like a porn star with gigundus gravity-defying 52 KKK's. The proportions of his ambition are enormous, and make those of the Bush and Kennedy families seem comically flat. Karl Rove's knowledge of history is awesome, and he sees the world through the high-powered telescope of a towering natural intellect of which there have been few equals. No kidding. The Bush family dynasty has become Karl Rove's clay, while Cheney, Rumsfeld and the neo-cons present ham-handed, unstable annoyances to him whose influences must be accounted for, nudged and negated with the same care and planning accorded to plutonium. Machiavelli was a blooming dilettante by comparison of skill levels. Karl Rove is relentlessly pragmatic and able, absolutely ruthless, and is to modern politics what RCA-Victor's David Sarnoff was to broadcasting.

Yet Karl must still somehow get his idiotic, panicked minions elected. It's increasingly predicted the House will be lost to the Dims (my term for democrats), possibly even the Senate. My mind is not equal to understanding the full workings, so I'm not sure exactly how The Majestic Turdblossom will direct his Pugs in the run-up to November, but Karl will make sure the campaigns will follow the winning "Keep It Scary, Stupid" playbook. So here are a few guesses of things to look for:

  • Stopping a Second 9/11 In Its Tracks (massive but successfully thwarted nuclear or chemical attack on US soil)
  • Voodoo Sacrifices In The Attic (massive advertising claims of value-based threats posed by individual opponents)
  • Armageddon Is Near (massive end-of-world theme commonly harped on by leaders of failing empires)
  • Look, Pa, A Free X-Box! (massive financing for turnout-the-vote drives in threatened states and districts)
The Dims, if they had any brains at all, would not engage in Hillary Indulgence or dangle-a-baby-over-the-croc exchanges. There is a common wish running through the people of this country now. The Democratic Party should gently, carefully draw its head out of its weary ass and run on one phrase: Get Real.

Hey, that's kinda catchy. ;-)

Sunday, September 03, 2006



Blair Attacked By Own Cabinet

Well, well. In a post two weeks ago, I described (When the Devil Come Blair Callin') how a commenter over at Sic Semper Tyrannis named Altoid predicted Blair's Labour Party would apply some wicked pressure to oust him starting in September. Altoid was curiously strong on the money:
Tony Blair will be served notice to quit Downing Street at a meeting of the Cabinet next week when senior ministers plan to confront him over his refusal to commit to a departure timetable.
Cabinet members used terms like "deluded," "self-indulgent," and "marginal dumbass" to describe Blair, urging him to "end the pantomime." If Blair goes, an official recanting of UK support for Cheney/Rumsfeld version of the Global War On Terra won't be far behind. Full article here.

I'd better go back and check to see if Altoid has a blog. Always good to know people smarter than oneself.

Saturday, September 02, 2006


US Companies Invited to Participate in Iran's Oil Projects

TEHRAN (Fars News Agency)- Managing Director of National Iranian Oil Company Gholam Hossein Nozari invited US companies to participate in Iran's oil projects.

Link and article to follow below. The Bullshit Curtain is so thick these days, getting at something resembling truth takes relying on smart back-channel people who know how to google for it in about 20 languages. This article should be front-page on every major newspaper in the country, and it's nowhere. I don't know Gholam Nozari from Adam, but he's one of the most important men in Iran, and he's saying all the US needs to do to get into Iran's oil game is not renew the (D'Amato) law which precludes it from doing so. This is very clever, win-win-win positioning by the Iranians, as Nozari himself alludes. They're using hidden US objectives to pressure all the other foreign oil companies in Iran into re-thinking their rate structures; they're baiting both BushCo and Congress to define oil partnerships as a quid pro quo in the context of nuclear energy negotiations; and they're pressing the Russians and Chinese to define their security relationship more clearly.

http://english.farsnews.com/newstext.php?nn=8506070382

Speaking in a press conference here in Tehran on Monday, Nozari said Iran is prepared to work out economic and financial incentives for the American companies to participate in the Iranian oil projects, adding, "Although economic preferences are a top priority for American firms and companies as they are well aware of the excellent preferences that exist for their operations in Iran, this has actually been the D' Amato sanction Law of the US Congress which has impeded their activity in our country."

"Once the Law which is extended by the US presidents annually is ruled as null and void by the US officials, we are confident that many US enterprises will rush to Iran to enjoy the investment opportunities and preferences that reside already or we will create for them in here," he added.

The Iranian oil official stressed that under such circumstances, his company would certainly hold negotiations with the US companies to pave the ground for offering and attracting them with still more rewarding conditions and preferences that already exist in Iran.

He said partnership of the US oil companies can give rise to tighter competition in the Iranian projects and lower down tender prices and, meantime, affect current and future decision makings by the US politicians and statesmen.
That last paragraph is beautiful: "partnership of the US oil companies can...meantime, affect current and future decision makings by the US politicians and statesmen." This is how to negotiate. Nozari is what Tony Soprano would call "an Earner."

Saturday, in the Park

My wife and I took Mighty Boy, our 2-1/2 year old son, to play in the Commonwealth of Greenlake wading pool, as the weather is hot and perfect on this, the last day of Wading Pool Season. We all enjoyed splashing around with each other and there were at least 30 children, maybe 50, in the pool at any one time. After 1:30 Mighty Boy pretended he was a dog, so we played "fetch" with him for a half hour, tossing a new fabric waterball which bounces across the surface and floats; he would go up, grab the fabric in his teeth, and come back on all fours to look up at me, panting a pretty darned good imitation of a dog, whereupon I'd pat him on the head and say, "Good dog, good dog, now drop the ball." I'm not sure what the other parents made of our behavior, but Mighty Boy found it to be great fun and later re-donned his humanity by tearing into a post-pool rainbow creamsicle and most of his mom's ice cream sandwich. Just like the song by Chicago says, there was a man selling ice cream.

On coming back home, I searched on Google Images for the wading pool, and to my surprise there are already quite a few online. The picture above is from 1934, and it gives me an idea for future activities with Beren. Sailing ships! That would be fun. Something tells me, however, that Mighty Boy will present a danger to any model sailboat for some time to come. So I'll look for a very sturdy version.

Update: I looked up the lyrics to "Saturday in the Park," and there's a section in the song that I never understood before:

Slow motion riders
fly the colours of the day.
A bronze man still can
tell stories his own way.
Listen children, all is not lost
all is not lost!

Friday, September 01, 2006



QUICK, GET A COMPASS

Meet Rocky Anderson. Behold the face of a traitor. Rocky is guilty of treason against the United States, and that's fine because he's a Democrat, except whoops, he's also the mayor of Salt Lake City:

A crowd of thousands cheered Salt Lake City Mayor Rocky Anderson for calling President Bush a "dishonest, war-mongering, human-rights violating president" whose time in office would "rank as the worst presidency our nation has ever had to endure."


What's wrong with this picture? Thousands cheering treasonous words. By the mayor. Salt Lake City is the capitol of Utah, which some of you may know as The Fifty-First State, and the reddest of the red states. The John Birch Society is still popular there, and Salt Lake is the Mormon Mecca. When Boosh went to Salt Lake, took something to calm himself down then bravely struggled to enunciate a prepared speech to the American Legion (cough*fascists*ahem) about something called "is-lame-o-fascism," and "tola-tera-tera-to-totalitarians," , Mayor Anderson took it upon himself to lead a big anti-war rally. And that's just spooky.

Now, being a former Mormon in good standing, I knew, or at least I thought I knew, Salt Lake City pretty well. And lemme tell ya, when the mayor of Salt Lake goes and leads an anti-war rally, any anti-war rally in any shape or form, you'd better go check the nearest compass. On the earth I used to live on, a Republican Administration could be carrying out a Global War on Puppies, and if the mayor of SLC dared criticized it, in public no less, the Mormon Church would round up the Elders to pay that mayor a little visit. That didn't happen, so the magnetic polarity of the earth may have just changed. It did so for the Bush Administration, because yesterday in Salt Lake City down went up, and up went down.


BushCo Fall Season Program Guide

Ok, here's what the Winged Mouth Piece said in response to Iran's latest intransigence:
"What we're looking for are sanctions that affect the Iranian nuclear weapons program, their ballistic missile program, target the leadership and the riches that they've accumulated. We're going to try and have sanctions that don't adversely affect the Iranian people," he told Fox News Channel.

Alrighty then, let's parse that language and try to translate it, going from back to front, starting with "...sanctions that don't adversely affect the Iranian people." Hmmm. That's a tough one. Well--quite a few Iranians are certainly suffering from undiagnosed or inoperable cancers, and radioactive fallout would cure a significant percentage of them. So that group will definitely come out ahead!

No, no, clearly while John is going to enjoy punishing particular Iranians for their intransigence, he bears no grudge against the little muslims in Iran, rather as he puts it, we're looking for "sanctions that...target the leadership and the riches they've accumulated." Ok, now that's an easy one. He might as well have said, "We are currently working on a Freeze and Seize sanctions package with the other Security Council members that will make the mullahs scream for mercy."

Now we're getting somewhere with that central sentence. It's not about nukes. It's about juice. About getting with and staying with The Program. I mean, who here has ever watched The Sopranos? Look at it like Tony (Soprano, not Blair) would: if Iran just stops pricing its oil in Euros, drops its fucked-up pretensions to independence and influence, and ponies up some serious cash or access, Tony would forget about Iran's disrespect in about 10 minutes of screen time, sell it a nuclear arsenal, and say "Alright, if you'da jus tole me you felt so strong about Israel before, I'da done em for ya." Admittedly, the players in BushCo make Tony Soprano seem about as threatening as a labrador retriever, and his ethics those of an honest businessman. But the analogy holds. Let's face it, some of these tools would blow up the moon for a few billion worth of gold bullion. (I name the amount and material carefully. Although all-important Fall ratings might improve, I think we can agree it would be a VERY bad idea to test this proposition.)

This essential conflagration on the road to redemption, to steal Bill Moyer's phraseology, is about money. Actually it's more about oil, because money is replaceable. Oil isn't. Yet as devoted viewers will recall, during BushCo's first season, Saddam Hussein didn't last too long after he started pricing his oil in Euros in the last 2000 episode of Baghdad Moves to Euro . In this season's cliff-hanger, Iran is impudently operating without a license on Cheney's turf and not paying up, so he has to decide whether they should be tortured into compliance, or whacked, or both. Yet all is not bliss in BushCo. While eager to put a hurting on Ahmadinejad, some questions have arisen about Olmert the Enforcer's abilities. Trusted captains have formed misgivings and have begun, reluctantly, to counsel caution. Stay tuned.

(Graphic shows popular BushCo series character "Bolt-On" promoting the show's new sponsor.)