September 01, 2003
God. Has it been two
God. Has it been two years already? It̢۪s stunning, actually, to
realize, when thinking about that horrible day that time will always
and forever march on. That it will always recede further into the past.
Perhaps I’m naïve to forever be shocked when the big picture of the
human experience presents itself to me, but I don̢۪t think I̢۪m alone
on this one. This feeling I have, this big huh? how did that happen?
moment must be akin to what parents feel when their children grow up
and move out of the house. A lifetime gone---poof---in what seems was
the blink of an eye. It̢۪s somewhat bittersweet in actuality. That day
was one of the worst I̢۪ll ever go through, and while nothing horrible
happened to me or my loved ones I don̢۪t want to ever let it go. Time,
the contrary beast that it is, however, has marched on, as it should
and is meant to do---that is time̢۪s purpose and it will never be
deterred. The images, the anger, the grief, the unspeakable horror of
that day are starting to fade; and as much as I don̢۪t want it to, the
fabric of that day is starting to fray around the edges. “Memories are meant to fade. They’re designed that way for a reason.†--Mace, Strange Days
It̢۪s time to write some of this stuff down otherwise I will lose it
completely. Indian Summer. I think that̢۪s what I will always remember
most about 9/11/01 in the Twin Cities. My God, was the sky ever blue
that day, and not a single cloud available to mar it: that crystal
clear, retina jarring, cornflower blue that those of us lucky enough to
live in the Midwest are able to enjoy when the heat and humidity of
summer has cleared out. A sky so blue it hurts your eyes when you angle
your head upwards and gaze at it. It had been a normal day for the
husband and me. We had risen before the sun and had walked through the
neighborhood. When we arrived back at home, the husband and I scrambled
for the last cup of coffee (he won) and we logged onto our computers,
following the prescribed morning ritual before he had to pop into the
shower and then shoot off to work at a company that no longer exists.
My schedule for the day was full: laundry and then off to the mall on
the bus to pick up my new glasses. The store had called the previous
day as I was frying chicken for that evening̢۪s supper, informing me
that my new specs were finally ready to be picked up. I was relieved.
My prescription had changed and my old glasses were giving me
headaches, something I̢۪m not generally prone to, so the mall, no
matter how I despise the place, was definitely
on the agenda for the day. I was completely ready, at that point in
time, to get into the new-glasses-headache phase, instead of dealing
with the old-glasses-headache phase. At least there was some light at
the end of the tunnel in that scenario. This trip to the mall was
convenient for my friend, Mel, who lived in London at the time. She̢۪d
asked a favor of me in an email: if there was still a Bombay Company in
the mall, could I please check out this little elephant statue she was
thinking of buying her boyfriend as a going-away present, as she needed
to know if it was worth seventy bucks? The Font of Bliss was off to
Thailand in a few weeks for a few months of head sorting while walking
on the beach. I emailed her back in that “how handy is this for
you?†sort of tone and said I’d let her know what it was like
tomorrow, the time change being what it is between London and
Minneapolis. I surfed. The husband showered, then left for work, his
lunch in his hand, and then I went down to the garage to deal with a
rather nasty mess a raccoon had left for me. When I was finally done I
went upstairs and hopped into the shower, ready to shoot off to the
mall to get my new glasses as soon as I̢۪d washed the stink off. When
I was getting out of the shower, the phone rang and I ran to grab it.
With water dripping, I answered; knowing it was probably the husband
with something he̢۪d forgotten to tell me before he̢۪d left. That was
common. And it was the husband, but instead of his usual, lighthearted
yet businesslike tone, there was something very, very grave in his
voice. “Turn on the TV, Kathy. A plane’s just flown into the World
Trade Center.†“What? Was it an accident?†I asked, draping the
towel around me as best I could while running into the living room. “I don’t think so.â€
I̢۪m not going to go into a detailed description of what precisely
did you do? how did you react? who did you call? what network were you
watching? sort of thing. A few weeks ago we had some friends over for
drinks and dessert. A few cigars might have been smoked and with the
blackout only a few hours past the discussion turned to 9/11. Where were you that day?
We have recently added by marriage a new member into our close-knit
gourmand drinking and dining circle. We heard stories from L.A. These
were new, and yes, fascinating in their own right, because they added
the heretofore unknown factors of being on-staff at UCLA medical
center, the general proximity of the federal building to the hospital,
and concerns about a friend who was to be flying in from Newark later
that day. The story was new, but the emotions, the horror, the general
fucked-up-ed-ness of the situation was one we̢۪d all heard before and
had experienced ourselves. This was a recent editorial decision for me.
I actually wrote it all down, but cut it. I ran a fine tooth comb
through my memory and pulled all of the memories into a cohesive,
compelling, description but it̢۪s not really relevant unless you were
there, is it? I watched it on television. I was nowhere near NYC or DC.
I̢۪ve never been to either of those places in my life; I have nothing
new to enter into the grandiose discussion of this subject. It̢۪s been
said already. But boy oh boy was the television ever my crack dealer that
day, ever ready with a hit for my already jangled system. There was so
much news I couldn̢۪t bear to turn the set off. But I had to. The
remote control was shot, and had been for quite some time. “Muteâ€
was not an option. My sister-in-law found the time to call when she̢۪d
distracted her son with a Lion King video, while her daughter
took her mid-morning nap. They live over in Eagan, which is another
suburb here in the Twin Cities, and like so many other stay at home
moms that day, she had resorted to complete media blackout mode. Just
turning on the video for her had been a big decision, because she was
afraid her three-year-old son would see if the tape ran out and she
wasn̢۪t there to turn the TV off. She was terrified he would see and
would ask questions. She wanted to know what was going on, but quickly
the questions started. She wanted to know why someone would do this to us? What had we done to deserve such a horrible thing?
I had no answers for her. Which was hard because she really wanted to know.
My sister-in-law has a babe-in-the-woods aura around her and everyone
in her family works to ensure that it stays in place. By this time, all
the suspicion was heading in the proper direction, although you could
tell that the media was hesitant to point their fingers incorrectly at
Islamic terrorists. How can they claim Islam is a peaceful religion?
the sister-in-law wanted to know. I tried to explain, if they were
Islamic, they were nutjobs. It̢۪s that simple. The same as the
Christians who tried to free the Holy Land in the Crusades; the
absolute same as the Protestants in Northern Ireland who didn̢۪t want
any Catholics mucking about Belfast. It̢۪s the same.
No, it̢۪s not, she replied calmly. Realizing I was not going to agree
with her, she switched to a different subject and we chatted a while
longer until my niece needed feeding, then we hung up. We̢۪re very
lucky to live in the country that we do. I̢۪d always felt it, but
until that day I had no idea of how absolutely, fucking lucky we were.
I̢۪d never had my belief in the goodness of America shattered before.
I̢۪m not Noam Chomsky or Susan Sontag. Nor am I a jingo. I knew
America wasn̢۪t the best it could be, but I never said or believed it
was anything less than the best place on Earth to live. How can it not
be? Despite our flaws, you can do whatever here—you can worship the
god of your choice; you can be with whomever you want; you can say
whatever you want; you can do the work you want to do; you even can
pick your nose if you want to and fling the snot on a sidewalk, and as
long as you̢۪re not breaking any laws you can get away with it. What a
place! You couldn̢۪t ask for a better country. But I came awfully
close that day, I̢۪ll admit, to having my belief shaken. We̢۪re a
fair people. If something bad happens in your lifetime, well, chances
are you did something to bring it in. You need to figure out what the
problem was, find a solution, and keep it from happening again. I am
not a victim, nor did I think my country was, either. I kept waiting
for someone to say this. For someone to point a finger right back at
us. I kept waiting for the world to say, Well, you̢۪ve meddled enough. Honestly, what did you expect? The air was pregnant with what was unsaid. Every moment that went by without the media saying the President of Oblivionland condemns this attack on the United States
was just one more moment that the absence of friends was all the more
noticeable and unbearable.
When you were in school, did you ever witness a fight between someone
who was popular and someone who wasn̢۪t? Most of the time, the popular
kid would win easily. But there was always that one time when another
popular kid would step up for the nerd. You̢۪d watch, stunned at the
shift in the geopolitics of grade school. That they̢۪d not only
stepped up, but that they would beat the ever-living shit out of one of
their own. With awe, respect and a little more than your average amount
of surprise, you̢۪d watch the crowd̢۪s momentum shift with one good,
swift pop to the jaw. At that point in time, America wasn̢۪t the popular kid; we
were the self-assured nerd who went about our business, not really
caring who we pissed off in the meanwhile. According to the other one
hundred, ninety-nine countries in the world, we had a president in
office who ranked just below idiot savant on the intelligence scale;
we̢۪d dumped Kyoto and then we̢۪d had the gall to bail on the ABM
treaty so we could develop that ridiculous missile defense system; the
dotcom backlash had already started and it was going worldwide on the
markets; Bush wasn̢۪t doing diddly-squat to stop the most recent
intifada and in July Bush had taken a serious reaming at the G-8
meeting in Genoa. At that stage of the game we were damned if we did
and damned if we didn̢۪t. If we looked after ourselves, we were seen
as protectionist assholes who were content to leave everyone else
behind. If we tried to look after the world, we were seen as
imperialist pigs who tried to tell everyone else what to do. People all
over the world were not charmed with America then; in fact, they were
royally pissed off at us. I knew it had to happen sometime that day,
that someone would say you deserved this.
The preceding political climate demanded it. I was waiting for it with
a cringe held in reserve for when it happened. I expected some politely
toned statement read by a talking head on TV which held no weight. They
would just be words after all, and would be easily dismissed and
slotted for future reference. Nothing, however, could have prepared me
for the pictures that came out of the West Bank that day. I was gutted
when I saw that footage of people dancing in the streets. I don̢۪t
think I̢۪ll ever forget the woman. In fact I know I won̢۪t. Her face
is branded on my brain: a bespectacled, older woman in a chador, round
faced, smiling widely for the all world to see. She was jumping up and
down excitedly, clapping her hands in glee, like she̢۪d won the
lottery, because the U.S. had finally paid for their support of Israel,
or so the announcer translated for her. We̢۪d finally gotten ours and
she was happy about it. Never had I jumped up and down joyfully while a
Palestinian child was shot by an Israeli gun and yet however many of my people were feared dead at that point in time and she felt so good about it she did just that. I was gutted.
Just gutted. I wanted to vomit just to get the nasties out; like when
you̢۪re drunk and you know the only way to make yourself feel better
is to stick your finger down your throat and just be done with it. But
miraculously the video feed changed. It switched to a very angry
Englishman who was all but shaking with outrage at what the hijackers
had done that day. I remember, as I listened to his words, vaguely
waiting for him to righteously slam his fist against the podium he
stood before. It never happened. He was too classy for that. But all it
took for me to regain my belief that America wasn̢۪t the worst, but
indeed the best despite its flaws, was the willfully restrained fury of
an English Prime Minister. He delivered that good, swift pop to the jaw
I so needed to see.
I will never likely get the opportunity in my lifetime to thank Mr.
Blair in person for his support. He propped me up when my own President
was too busy dealing with the crisis at hand. He gave me the words I
needed to hear, he let me know we were not alone when it felt very much
like we were. But most of all I thank him for his anger. I thank him for being angry.
I̢۪d been expecting the trite, politically correct sympathies of
nations who hated us, who in their heart of hearts were glad it was us
and not them; what I received instead was the fury of a good man who said in essence, we
will stand by you and to hell with any and all who say different. This
was wrong! I̢۪ll be damned before I, or my country, deserts you in
your time of need.. I won̢۪t say I thank him from the bottom of my
heart, because the heart is too trite an offering for a man like that.
Thanks need to be offered from the very depth of your being for
something of this magnitude. From the bottom of your soul
would be a better saying in this instance. And I mean it. I thank him
from the bottom of my soul for propping up what makes up a very large
portion of my soul: America, and all the riches, bounties,
opportunities, nightmares and horrors within. Mr. Blair allowed me to
access my anger; his anger made it all
right to do so and was so incredibly important on that Day of Days
because it helped to put some of the craziness into perspective. Before
he spoke I literally had no idea of what I was supposed to feel on that
day. I know what I did feel, but was that right? I didn̢۪t
know. I was as confused and as jumbled as everyone else that day. I was
in my very comfortable apartment, smoking enough cigarettes to disgust
even Denis Leary, watching the world disintegrate before my eyes, yet,
by some cosmic alignment of predetermined location, I was far away
enough that it would never directly affect me. And I wanted it to directly affect me, so I would at least get a grip on the fury I felt; some justification
for the fury I finally had come around to. It wasn̢۪t enough for
me---during that day---that just my country had been attacked; I needed
more, for some unknown reason. I wanted it to be personal for me and it
wasn̢۪t. For the first time in my life, I had no sense of the scope. I
couldn̢۪t predict what was going to happen with any certainty, and
that was odd. In 1989, I could have told you when that lone man played
chicken with the tank in Tiananmen Square, the hard liners would crack
down. When, later that same summer, Hungary opened its borders to
vacationing East Germans and allowed them to stay, I knew it was a
distinct possibility the wall would soon come down. I̢۪ll admit, the
coup in the Soviet Union that eventually brought down the whole house
of cards slipped by me. But, hell, even the CIA didn̢۪t predict that
one so I suppose I̢۪m off the hook there. On that day, however, no one
had any idea of the scope, least of all me. We were too stunned to look
further with any sort of clarity. The day was like an old 35mm camera
whose aperture kept going wider and wider to let in more and more
light, the darker the ambient light became, forcing it to open further.
And that in itself was terrifying. The anger was understandable and
completely unsurprising in its ferocity when it made its appearance,
but the sorrow I felt that day was completely beyond my grasp. I so
badly wanted to weep for the loss of it all, but I didn̢۪t. I
couldn̢۪t bring myself to. I am somewhat ashamed to say that I
didn̢۪t find the fact America had been attacked enough of a reason to
do so either. My tears weren̢۪t justified: I was safe, my husband was
safe, my family was safe---we were all fine.
I had suffered no losses. Why the hell would it be all right for me,
someone who was safe in fly-over land, to start weeping uncontrollably
for losses I had not incurred? It was not my job to mourn: my job, it
became readily apparent as the afternoon and evening wore on, was to
live life in the fashion I had before 9/11. 9/12 needed to be the same
as 9/10 for me. The people who had lost family and friends in
the attacks seemed to quietly demand this of me because it was apparent
that̢۪s what they would wish for their loved ones if they had the
chance. If they had been lucky enough to live in fly-over land, too. We
finally turned off the television and went to bed. My errands had gone
by the wayside. I had no new spectacles. The laundry had never gotten
done. The husband had cooked dinner, a pasta dish made with the
phony-baloney crab, and we̢۪d eaten it as we̢۪d watched the President
make a quick, yet dramatic change in American foreign policy.
Exhausted, we̢۪d crawled in and the husband fell off into dreamland
quickly. He̢۪s lucky that way: he can close his eyes and fall asleep.
I lay awake for a while, trying to come to some sort of agreement with
my brain, bargaining with it to try and not think of all I̢۪d seen on
the TV that day just for a long enough period for me to fall asleep.
The negotiations with my brain, like some endless round of GATT talks,
were fruitless. It became readily apparent that sleep would happen when
it happened, not a moment before and there was no use fretting about
it. Our bed was right under a window and I could see the stars blurrily
winking at me as I gazed up from my pillow. It was quiet. So quiet. We
live right under the west-east flight path for Minneapolis-St. Paul
International Airport, and we̢۪d gotten a lot of air traffic that
summer. It had been spectacularly noisy, but this day was proving to be
equally spectacular in its silence. No cars were on the streets; buses
were on a restricted service and all I could hear were cicadas and
crickets, until, I was roused by the roar of a jet engine. The
incongruity of it sent my heart leaping in my chest. The airport̢۪s open! They̢۪ve gotten the planes back up and running!
I slid out of bed and ran into the living room, quickly flipping on the
TV we̢۪d just shut off a half-hour before and flipped around for
information, praying for just one small piece of good news so I could
sleep.
I was surprised to find none. I went to the computer and did the same.
I could find none. An idea struck, and I finally woke up the husband
for confirmation. “Listen. It’s a jet. What kind do you think it
is?†I asked, with a fair amount of dread in my heart, knowing a
certain type of jet̢۪s arrival over the skies of Minneapolis
wouldn’t be announced to the general publicâ€Â¦not just yet, anyway.
“It’s an F-16. Go back to sleep.†He kissed me, then rolled and
pulled me to him so we were curled up like a pair of spoons in a
silverware drawer. Eventually, I fell asleep, not really looking
forward to the next day. The world, indeed, was a very different place
that night. And it hasn̢۪t gone back since.
realize, when thinking about that horrible day that time will always
and forever march on. That it will always recede further into the past.
Perhaps I’m naïve to forever be shocked when the big picture of the
human experience presents itself to me, but I don̢۪t think I̢۪m alone
on this one. This feeling I have, this big huh? how did that happen?
moment must be akin to what parents feel when their children grow up
and move out of the house. A lifetime gone---poof---in what seems was
the blink of an eye. It̢۪s somewhat bittersweet in actuality. That day
was one of the worst I̢۪ll ever go through, and while nothing horrible
happened to me or my loved ones I don̢۪t want to ever let it go. Time,
the contrary beast that it is, however, has marched on, as it should
and is meant to do---that is time̢۪s purpose and it will never be
deterred. The images, the anger, the grief, the unspeakable horror of
that day are starting to fade; and as much as I don̢۪t want it to, the
fabric of that day is starting to fray around the edges. “Memories are meant to fade. They’re designed that way for a reason.†--Mace, Strange Days
It̢۪s time to write some of this stuff down otherwise I will lose it
completely. Indian Summer. I think that̢۪s what I will always remember
most about 9/11/01 in the Twin Cities. My God, was the sky ever blue
that day, and not a single cloud available to mar it: that crystal
clear, retina jarring, cornflower blue that those of us lucky enough to
live in the Midwest are able to enjoy when the heat and humidity of
summer has cleared out. A sky so blue it hurts your eyes when you angle
your head upwards and gaze at it. It had been a normal day for the
husband and me. We had risen before the sun and had walked through the
neighborhood. When we arrived back at home, the husband and I scrambled
for the last cup of coffee (he won) and we logged onto our computers,
following the prescribed morning ritual before he had to pop into the
shower and then shoot off to work at a company that no longer exists.
My schedule for the day was full: laundry and then off to the mall on
the bus to pick up my new glasses. The store had called the previous
day as I was frying chicken for that evening̢۪s supper, informing me
that my new specs were finally ready to be picked up. I was relieved.
My prescription had changed and my old glasses were giving me
headaches, something I̢۪m not generally prone to, so the mall, no
matter how I despise the place, was definitely
on the agenda for the day. I was completely ready, at that point in
time, to get into the new-glasses-headache phase, instead of dealing
with the old-glasses-headache phase. At least there was some light at
the end of the tunnel in that scenario. This trip to the mall was
convenient for my friend, Mel, who lived in London at the time. She̢۪d
asked a favor of me in an email: if there was still a Bombay Company in
the mall, could I please check out this little elephant statue she was
thinking of buying her boyfriend as a going-away present, as she needed
to know if it was worth seventy bucks? The Font of Bliss was off to
Thailand in a few weeks for a few months of head sorting while walking
on the beach. I emailed her back in that “how handy is this for
you?†sort of tone and said I’d let her know what it was like
tomorrow, the time change being what it is between London and
Minneapolis. I surfed. The husband showered, then left for work, his
lunch in his hand, and then I went down to the garage to deal with a
rather nasty mess a raccoon had left for me. When I was finally done I
went upstairs and hopped into the shower, ready to shoot off to the
mall to get my new glasses as soon as I̢۪d washed the stink off. When
I was getting out of the shower, the phone rang and I ran to grab it.
With water dripping, I answered; knowing it was probably the husband
with something he̢۪d forgotten to tell me before he̢۪d left. That was
common. And it was the husband, but instead of his usual, lighthearted
yet businesslike tone, there was something very, very grave in his
voice. “Turn on the TV, Kathy. A plane’s just flown into the World
Trade Center.†“What? Was it an accident?†I asked, draping the
towel around me as best I could while running into the living room. “I don’t think so.â€
I̢۪m not going to go into a detailed description of what precisely
did you do? how did you react? who did you call? what network were you
watching? sort of thing. A few weeks ago we had some friends over for
drinks and dessert. A few cigars might have been smoked and with the
blackout only a few hours past the discussion turned to 9/11. Where were you that day?
We have recently added by marriage a new member into our close-knit
gourmand drinking and dining circle. We heard stories from L.A. These
were new, and yes, fascinating in their own right, because they added
the heretofore unknown factors of being on-staff at UCLA medical
center, the general proximity of the federal building to the hospital,
and concerns about a friend who was to be flying in from Newark later
that day. The story was new, but the emotions, the horror, the general
fucked-up-ed-ness of the situation was one we̢۪d all heard before and
had experienced ourselves. This was a recent editorial decision for me.
I actually wrote it all down, but cut it. I ran a fine tooth comb
through my memory and pulled all of the memories into a cohesive,
compelling, description but it̢۪s not really relevant unless you were
there, is it? I watched it on television. I was nowhere near NYC or DC.
I̢۪ve never been to either of those places in my life; I have nothing
new to enter into the grandiose discussion of this subject. It̢۪s been
said already. But boy oh boy was the television ever my crack dealer that
day, ever ready with a hit for my already jangled system. There was so
much news I couldn̢۪t bear to turn the set off. But I had to. The
remote control was shot, and had been for quite some time. “Muteâ€
was not an option. My sister-in-law found the time to call when she̢۪d
distracted her son with a Lion King video, while her daughter
took her mid-morning nap. They live over in Eagan, which is another
suburb here in the Twin Cities, and like so many other stay at home
moms that day, she had resorted to complete media blackout mode. Just
turning on the video for her had been a big decision, because she was
afraid her three-year-old son would see if the tape ran out and she
wasn̢۪t there to turn the TV off. She was terrified he would see and
would ask questions. She wanted to know what was going on, but quickly
the questions started. She wanted to know why someone would do this to us? What had we done to deserve such a horrible thing?
I had no answers for her. Which was hard because she really wanted to know.
My sister-in-law has a babe-in-the-woods aura around her and everyone
in her family works to ensure that it stays in place. By this time, all
the suspicion was heading in the proper direction, although you could
tell that the media was hesitant to point their fingers incorrectly at
Islamic terrorists. How can they claim Islam is a peaceful religion?
the sister-in-law wanted to know. I tried to explain, if they were
Islamic, they were nutjobs. It̢۪s that simple. The same as the
Christians who tried to free the Holy Land in the Crusades; the
absolute same as the Protestants in Northern Ireland who didn̢۪t want
any Catholics mucking about Belfast. It̢۪s the same.
No, it̢۪s not, she replied calmly. Realizing I was not going to agree
with her, she switched to a different subject and we chatted a while
longer until my niece needed feeding, then we hung up. We̢۪re very
lucky to live in the country that we do. I̢۪d always felt it, but
until that day I had no idea of how absolutely, fucking lucky we were.
I̢۪d never had my belief in the goodness of America shattered before.
I̢۪m not Noam Chomsky or Susan Sontag. Nor am I a jingo. I knew
America wasn̢۪t the best it could be, but I never said or believed it
was anything less than the best place on Earth to live. How can it not
be? Despite our flaws, you can do whatever here—you can worship the
god of your choice; you can be with whomever you want; you can say
whatever you want; you can do the work you want to do; you even can
pick your nose if you want to and fling the snot on a sidewalk, and as
long as you̢۪re not breaking any laws you can get away with it. What a
place! You couldn̢۪t ask for a better country. But I came awfully
close that day, I̢۪ll admit, to having my belief shaken. We̢۪re a
fair people. If something bad happens in your lifetime, well, chances
are you did something to bring it in. You need to figure out what the
problem was, find a solution, and keep it from happening again. I am
not a victim, nor did I think my country was, either. I kept waiting
for someone to say this. For someone to point a finger right back at
us. I kept waiting for the world to say, Well, you̢۪ve meddled enough. Honestly, what did you expect? The air was pregnant with what was unsaid. Every moment that went by without the media saying the President of Oblivionland condemns this attack on the United States
was just one more moment that the absence of friends was all the more
noticeable and unbearable.
When you were in school, did you ever witness a fight between someone
who was popular and someone who wasn̢۪t? Most of the time, the popular
kid would win easily. But there was always that one time when another
popular kid would step up for the nerd. You̢۪d watch, stunned at the
shift in the geopolitics of grade school. That they̢۪d not only
stepped up, but that they would beat the ever-living shit out of one of
their own. With awe, respect and a little more than your average amount
of surprise, you̢۪d watch the crowd̢۪s momentum shift with one good,
swift pop to the jaw. At that point in time, America wasn̢۪t the popular kid; we
were the self-assured nerd who went about our business, not really
caring who we pissed off in the meanwhile. According to the other one
hundred, ninety-nine countries in the world, we had a president in
office who ranked just below idiot savant on the intelligence scale;
we̢۪d dumped Kyoto and then we̢۪d had the gall to bail on the ABM
treaty so we could develop that ridiculous missile defense system; the
dotcom backlash had already started and it was going worldwide on the
markets; Bush wasn̢۪t doing diddly-squat to stop the most recent
intifada and in July Bush had taken a serious reaming at the G-8
meeting in Genoa. At that stage of the game we were damned if we did
and damned if we didn̢۪t. If we looked after ourselves, we were seen
as protectionist assholes who were content to leave everyone else
behind. If we tried to look after the world, we were seen as
imperialist pigs who tried to tell everyone else what to do. People all
over the world were not charmed with America then; in fact, they were
royally pissed off at us. I knew it had to happen sometime that day,
that someone would say you deserved this.
The preceding political climate demanded it. I was waiting for it with
a cringe held in reserve for when it happened. I expected some politely
toned statement read by a talking head on TV which held no weight. They
would just be words after all, and would be easily dismissed and
slotted for future reference. Nothing, however, could have prepared me
for the pictures that came out of the West Bank that day. I was gutted
when I saw that footage of people dancing in the streets. I don̢۪t
think I̢۪ll ever forget the woman. In fact I know I won̢۪t. Her face
is branded on my brain: a bespectacled, older woman in a chador, round
faced, smiling widely for the all world to see. She was jumping up and
down excitedly, clapping her hands in glee, like she̢۪d won the
lottery, because the U.S. had finally paid for their support of Israel,
or so the announcer translated for her. We̢۪d finally gotten ours and
she was happy about it. Never had I jumped up and down joyfully while a
Palestinian child was shot by an Israeli gun and yet however many of my people were feared dead at that point in time and she felt so good about it she did just that. I was gutted.
Just gutted. I wanted to vomit just to get the nasties out; like when
you̢۪re drunk and you know the only way to make yourself feel better
is to stick your finger down your throat and just be done with it. But
miraculously the video feed changed. It switched to a very angry
Englishman who was all but shaking with outrage at what the hijackers
had done that day. I remember, as I listened to his words, vaguely
waiting for him to righteously slam his fist against the podium he
stood before. It never happened. He was too classy for that. But all it
took for me to regain my belief that America wasn̢۪t the worst, but
indeed the best despite its flaws, was the willfully restrained fury of
an English Prime Minister. He delivered that good, swift pop to the jaw
I so needed to see.
I will never likely get the opportunity in my lifetime to thank Mr.
Blair in person for his support. He propped me up when my own President
was too busy dealing with the crisis at hand. He gave me the words I
needed to hear, he let me know we were not alone when it felt very much
like we were. But most of all I thank him for his anger. I thank him for being angry.
I̢۪d been expecting the trite, politically correct sympathies of
nations who hated us, who in their heart of hearts were glad it was us
and not them; what I received instead was the fury of a good man who said in essence, we
will stand by you and to hell with any and all who say different. This
was wrong! I̢۪ll be damned before I, or my country, deserts you in
your time of need.. I won̢۪t say I thank him from the bottom of my
heart, because the heart is too trite an offering for a man like that.
Thanks need to be offered from the very depth of your being for
something of this magnitude. From the bottom of your soul
would be a better saying in this instance. And I mean it. I thank him
from the bottom of my soul for propping up what makes up a very large
portion of my soul: America, and all the riches, bounties,
opportunities, nightmares and horrors within. Mr. Blair allowed me to
access my anger; his anger made it all
right to do so and was so incredibly important on that Day of Days
because it helped to put some of the craziness into perspective. Before
he spoke I literally had no idea of what I was supposed to feel on that
day. I know what I did feel, but was that right? I didn̢۪t
know. I was as confused and as jumbled as everyone else that day. I was
in my very comfortable apartment, smoking enough cigarettes to disgust
even Denis Leary, watching the world disintegrate before my eyes, yet,
by some cosmic alignment of predetermined location, I was far away
enough that it would never directly affect me. And I wanted it to directly affect me, so I would at least get a grip on the fury I felt; some justification
for the fury I finally had come around to. It wasn̢۪t enough for
me---during that day---that just my country had been attacked; I needed
more, for some unknown reason. I wanted it to be personal for me and it
wasn̢۪t. For the first time in my life, I had no sense of the scope. I
couldn̢۪t predict what was going to happen with any certainty, and
that was odd. In 1989, I could have told you when that lone man played
chicken with the tank in Tiananmen Square, the hard liners would crack
down. When, later that same summer, Hungary opened its borders to
vacationing East Germans and allowed them to stay, I knew it was a
distinct possibility the wall would soon come down. I̢۪ll admit, the
coup in the Soviet Union that eventually brought down the whole house
of cards slipped by me. But, hell, even the CIA didn̢۪t predict that
one so I suppose I̢۪m off the hook there. On that day, however, no one
had any idea of the scope, least of all me. We were too stunned to look
further with any sort of clarity. The day was like an old 35mm camera
whose aperture kept going wider and wider to let in more and more
light, the darker the ambient light became, forcing it to open further.
And that in itself was terrifying. The anger was understandable and
completely unsurprising in its ferocity when it made its appearance,
but the sorrow I felt that day was completely beyond my grasp. I so
badly wanted to weep for the loss of it all, but I didn̢۪t. I
couldn̢۪t bring myself to. I am somewhat ashamed to say that I
didn̢۪t find the fact America had been attacked enough of a reason to
do so either. My tears weren̢۪t justified: I was safe, my husband was
safe, my family was safe---we were all fine.
I had suffered no losses. Why the hell would it be all right for me,
someone who was safe in fly-over land, to start weeping uncontrollably
for losses I had not incurred? It was not my job to mourn: my job, it
became readily apparent as the afternoon and evening wore on, was to
live life in the fashion I had before 9/11. 9/12 needed to be the same
as 9/10 for me. The people who had lost family and friends in
the attacks seemed to quietly demand this of me because it was apparent
that̢۪s what they would wish for their loved ones if they had the
chance. If they had been lucky enough to live in fly-over land, too. We
finally turned off the television and went to bed. My errands had gone
by the wayside. I had no new spectacles. The laundry had never gotten
done. The husband had cooked dinner, a pasta dish made with the
phony-baloney crab, and we̢۪d eaten it as we̢۪d watched the President
make a quick, yet dramatic change in American foreign policy.
Exhausted, we̢۪d crawled in and the husband fell off into dreamland
quickly. He̢۪s lucky that way: he can close his eyes and fall asleep.
I lay awake for a while, trying to come to some sort of agreement with
my brain, bargaining with it to try and not think of all I̢۪d seen on
the TV that day just for a long enough period for me to fall asleep.
The negotiations with my brain, like some endless round of GATT talks,
were fruitless. It became readily apparent that sleep would happen when
it happened, not a moment before and there was no use fretting about
it. Our bed was right under a window and I could see the stars blurrily
winking at me as I gazed up from my pillow. It was quiet. So quiet. We
live right under the west-east flight path for Minneapolis-St. Paul
International Airport, and we̢۪d gotten a lot of air traffic that
summer. It had been spectacularly noisy, but this day was proving to be
equally spectacular in its silence. No cars were on the streets; buses
were on a restricted service and all I could hear were cicadas and
crickets, until, I was roused by the roar of a jet engine. The
incongruity of it sent my heart leaping in my chest. The airport̢۪s open! They̢۪ve gotten the planes back up and running!
I slid out of bed and ran into the living room, quickly flipping on the
TV we̢۪d just shut off a half-hour before and flipped around for
information, praying for just one small piece of good news so I could
sleep.
I was surprised to find none. I went to the computer and did the same.
I could find none. An idea struck, and I finally woke up the husband
for confirmation. “Listen. It’s a jet. What kind do you think it
is?†I asked, with a fair amount of dread in my heart, knowing a
certain type of jet̢۪s arrival over the skies of Minneapolis
wouldn’t be announced to the general publicâ€Â¦not just yet, anyway.
“It’s an F-16. Go back to sleep.†He kissed me, then rolled and
pulled me to him so we were curled up like a pair of spoons in a
silverware drawer. Eventually, I fell asleep, not really looking
forward to the next day. The world, indeed, was a very different place
that night. And it hasn̢۪t gone back since.
Posted by: Kathy at
11:53 PM
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Post contains 3734 words, total size 22 kb.
--- A late post, but
--- A late post, but I'm absolutely repulsed and won't be able to sleep
until I've vented. We have another candidate for the Sicko Award, which you'll
remember is for depraved acts of humanity and you need not even be
Slobodan Milosevic to earn it. All you really need is the absolute
assurance that you're doing the right thing by humanity. Today's
candidate is a reporter for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation
named Gina Wilkinson. Ms. Wilkinson when reporting on the dangers of
unexploded ordanance in Baghdad left by Saddam's army, actually
prompted children to walk around the unexploded missiles for better
footage. And when that footage wasn't good enough, she asked them for a second take.
Don't take my word for it. Go here
and watch the unedited footage where she prays aloud that the missile
doesn't go off while there are kids underneath it. You'll need RealOne
Player to view it. Windows Media didn't like it very much and refused
to play it. I can't say that I blame it, but thankfully Real One has
scruples and knows this footage needs to get out.
until I've vented. We have another candidate for the Sicko Award, which you'll
remember is for depraved acts of humanity and you need not even be
Slobodan Milosevic to earn it. All you really need is the absolute
assurance that you're doing the right thing by humanity. Today's
candidate is a reporter for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation
named Gina Wilkinson. Ms. Wilkinson when reporting on the dangers of
unexploded ordanance in Baghdad left by Saddam's army, actually
prompted children to walk around the unexploded missiles for better
footage. And when that footage wasn't good enough, she asked them for a second take.
Don't take my word for it. Go here
and watch the unedited footage where she prays aloud that the missile
doesn't go off while there are kids underneath it. You'll need RealOne
Player to view it. Windows Media didn't like it very much and refused
to play it. I can't say that I blame it, but thankfully Real One has
scruples and knows this footage needs to get out.
Posted by: Kathy at
11:37 PM
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Post contains 195 words, total size 1 kb.
-- There̢۪s nothing better after
-- There̢۪s nothing better after a long day than turning on the TV,
seeking distraction---and in a completely accidental fashion--- coming
across a movie that you just love.
Roman Holiday
was on AMC last night, and I felt like I̢۪d been digging for gold and
came across a big ol̢۪ nugget. I just love that movie. I̢۪m a big
Audrey Hepburn fan and she̢۪s wonderful in the role of a princess on
the lam. But, I must admit, I̢۪d always thought Gregory Peck
completely wrong for the role of Joe, the rakish journalist who is a
stand-up guy when it comes down to it. Gregory Peck was
a stand-up guy---and you could tell he was kinda having a hard time
coming up with the rake element. It didn̢۪t come naturally to him. I
don̢۪t know who would have done it better, though. Bogart? Nah. That
would be the opposite: too much rough rogue, not enough stand-up good
guy. He would have written the article, then been wistful about the
choices a broke man must make to pay the rent. Cary Grant? Nah. Too
smooth. He would have done his darndest to make sure the princess ran
off with him. (And honestly, what woman could have resisted that?)
Jimmy Stewart? He comes close, I guess, but not rough enough around the
edges. Hmmmph. A question for the ages, no doubt. As usual, I digress.
Last night I changed my mind about Gregory Peck though, and I̢۪m
finding myself wondering about him. Because, and this is probably me
just getting older and liking different things in men, but damn!
was he sexy! Yeah, I know: he died earlier this summer at the ripe old
age of 87. I̢۪m glad he had a nice long life, but thanks to the
glories of the modern world, I can have a crush on a guy who was old
enough to be my grandfather, but was damn good looking in his youth.
It̢۪s a good thing his youth was recorded for posterity. Adds a whole
new meaning to the word unrequited, doesn̢۪t it?
{evil chuckle} Yes. I am a sick puppy. I know this already
I don̢۪t know exactly what it is that I̢۪m suddenly finding appealing
about him, but it probably boils down to the fact he was a man---with a
capital M. Good, bad or somewhere in between, he was male
and gloriously so. Not to mention, he could dance, which is a good
thing in my book. When he took Audrey for a twirl, you could tell he
was the one leading, which is not something you see very often these
days. A remnant of an almost-forgotten era, I suppose, and one that
never ceases to surprise me when I do see it. People used to learn how
to dance: it was expected. You needed to be able to cut a rug, because,
damnit, that̢۪s when you had fun and got to get your hands on a girl
or a guy in public. Back then no one wanted to be that guy who says, no, I don̢۪t dance
and sits around the whole time trying to look cool. Dancing was what
you did to see if you could move with someone; to see if it was
worthwhile to take it further. It was an exercise in sensuality that
we̢۪re missing out on today. Nowadays, when people dance, it̢۪s
always more of a let̢۪s-move-repeatedly-in-a-circle sort of agreement
that they come to because no one knows how to do it properly; if they
really want to know if they move well together, they generally just hop
in the sack because that̢۪s not a boo-boo anymore. Everyone used to
dance; now you only dance with someone you really care for, who won̢۪t
make fun of you if you̢۪re bad at it. Rarely does any leading go on.
Gregory led, and I just find that incredibly sexy.
Now, don̢۪t throw out all sorts of politically correct,
hairy-armpitted, bra-torching, feminist arguments my way about how men
should never lead, and the fact they are taught to at dancing classes
all over the world is just one more obvious example of how latently
sexist our society is. Pffft. I̢۪m not buying, so sell it somewhere
else. In my opinion, men are supposed to lead when dancing because,
duh, they̢۪re generally bigger than women.
As a relatively short woman I know this. They can see where they̢۪re
going. I can̢۪t, even if I̢۪m in heels. Gregory, I found this
morning, was six-foot-three. He could see, so he led. It̢۪s a big
assumption, but I̢۪ll bet anything if he was dancing with a
six-foot-four woman in three-inch heels, he probably would have gotten
over the awkwardness of the situation quickly and let himself be led.
I like men who can dance. I̢۪m not talking about men who can
successfully pull off the white-man̢۪s-overbite. I̢۪m talking about
guys whose mothers were secretly enamored of Fred Astaire or Gene
Kelly; women who sent their sons to ballroom lessons in between Little
League practices in the secret hope their sons would surpass their
fathers in this arena. They̢۪re out there: you just have to go
looking. When do you find a guy who can actually lead, and does so,
it̢۪s a wonder. Suddenly, you find yourself moving around a dance
floor as if your feet belonged to someone else who has the coordination
that you usually lack. And it̢۪s thrilling in an odd sort of way when
you finally realize that being led around a dance floor is a good thing. When a man puts one of his hands in yours, the other is molding your waist, you’re forced to look up at him, and whooshâ€Â¦off you go, twirling around a room, you rapidly come to the conclusion that there are many good points to being a woman and this
is one of them. And it gets even better when you dump the guilt you
feel because it doesn̢۪t mean you̢۪re not being a good little
feminist by being led, it means you̢۪re just being female.
Dancing is a celebration of couplehood; a small sighting of what men
and women can do together when they put their minds and bodies to it; a
hint of the potential if you go do something else later in the
evening. {eyebrows-in-need-of-a-serious-plucking wiggling} When I
watched Gregory dancing, all of that sensual potential was there in
abundance, but it wasn̢۪t blatant. It was quiet and it was lovely,
just as I presume he meant for it to be. Manâ€Â¦with a capital M.
Purrrr. --- It̢۪s been all over the media the past few days, so I̢۪ll
dump my two cents worth because it pisses me off. Yep. They̢۪re suing
twelve-year-olds now. Have these people no shame? Go here and here.
"I am sorry for what I have done," LaHara said. "I love music and don't want to hurt the artists I love."
It was much better than Cats. I’ll go and see it again and again and againâ€Â¦
Given the fact most twelve-year-old girls nowadays like boy bands,
Britney and Christina and other prepackaged---bullshit---music that is
already paid for in spades with merchandising, tours and brightly
designed CD̢۪s every girl just has to have, I don̢۪t think Miss
LaHara was hurting
anyone by frequenting Kazaa or Morpheus or Limewire. What̢۪s really at
issue here is the legal maneuvering done on behalf of the RIAA and how
sleazy it is.
I don̢۪t really know for sure what happened with Miss LaHara but I can
speculate, and as a person with plenty of past work experience in the
legal field, I will do so. An old boss of mine was fond of telling
prospective clients when they balked at his fees that the man who hires himself as his attorney has a fool for a client.
And this is exactly why this story reeks; it̢۪s not the copyright
issues, although that just adds fuel to the fire, it̢۪s the fact the
RIAA̢۪s lawyers took advantage. They crossed the lines of decency in
their quest to crack-down. For me, this whole thing smacks of part
procedural goof, part ass covering, and part hotboxing of a
responsible, yet non-lawyer, respondent. The lawyers cocked this one up and the respondent didn̢۪t know any better so they̢۪re getting away with it. .
So, in essence, we̢۪ve got a twelve-old girl downloading music on her
computer. It̢۪s unclear, the article said, how the RIAA attached
Brianna̢۪s name to the lawsuit. It was unclear because they don̢۪t
want to answer the question. When, in the recent history of mankind,
has a twelve-year old girl had enough credit to qualify for a phone
account? Never. So I̢۪m going to make a leap here and say that the
reason Brianna̢۪s name was on the lawsuit was because the RIAA went
one step too far in their research and then the lawyers fucked up. The
lawyers apparently didn̢۪t have the good sense to check and make sure
her name matched up with the name on the Verizon account. I personally
think the RIAA snooped too far, maybe by inserting data mining cookies
on Brianna̢۪s computer or something of that sort, and came up with her
name that way. The methodology isn̢۪t something I̢۪m good at, so if
someone wants to run with this angle, by all means go for it. It will
be important in the future, but it̢۪s not relevant right now. Somehow
they came up with her name.
What is important is that when Brianna̢۪s mother, who no doubt was
terrified at the prospect of her daughter being sued, called to
negotiate with them, they shoved her into a corner and boxed her in.
This is what I mean by hotboxing: it̢۪s a sorority rush term. You take
a potential pledge you really want to join your house aside during rush
(a big no-no)and you tell them all the bad things that will happen to
them if they don̢۪t join your house, playing up the social shunning
angle quite a bit in your description. You slam the other sororities on
their short list. In essence, you take someone̢۪s insecurities and you
tweak and twist them to your benefit. It̢۪s now part of that ever
growing list of things that define hazing in college Greek systems, and
it̢۪s not supposed to happen anymore. But that doesn̢۪t mean it
doesn̢۪t happen in real life, and this is one of those instances. The
short time period between the service of the papers and when the
settlement was announced declares---loudly---that they hotboxed
Brianna̢۪s mother into a settlement. I can almost hear it now, can̢۪t
you? Well, Ms. Torres, your
daughter is in a lot of trouble and we̢۪d hate to see this go any
further. Yes, yes. We understand you didn̢۪t think she was doing
anything wrong, but the law is the law, Ms. Torres. Ignorance is no
defense. I can̢۪t tell you if you should retain an attorney or not,
Ms. Torres. I really shouldn̢۪t say, but do you really think that̢۪s
necessary? I̢۪m sure you don̢۪t need the added financial burden of
hiring an attorney. Lawyers just rack up their bills, Ms. Torres.
{laughter} I can tell you that from experience. We don̢۪t want it to
become worse than it already is, and you sound very intelligent,
ma̢۪am. I think you know what̢۪s best here for your daughter. Some
lawyer out of the yellow pages wouldn̢۪t really help you at all and
would make it more adversarial than it already is and we really don̢۪t
want that. This whole debacle could seriously damage Brianna’s reputation for the rest of her lifeâ€Â¦
The RIAA lawyers didn̢۪t want Mrs. Torres going to an attorney; a
second year law student at a third rate university could have told
Brianna̢۪s mother that it could have been dismissed---quickly---and
they wouldn̢۪t have had to pay a dime. Brianna̢۪s mother didn̢۪t
know that AHEM you can̢۪t sue a minor.
It̢۪s federal law, kids. Look it up. In any lawsuit petition, and
believe me, I̢۪ve typed up a few, the plaintiff---in this case the
RIAA---has to attest to two things: that the respondent is over the age
of eighteen and that they are not a member of the U.S. military because
under the Soldiers and Sailors Relief Act of 1944, an active member of
the military cannot be sued. I̢۪ve cut and pasted that clause hundreds
of times. This is the mother of all procedural cock-ups . What worries
me is that the RIAA and their lawyers aren̢۪t going to be called on it
because it was quickly settled.
So, what happened here? How did Brianna̢۪s mother miss this one? She
didn̢۪t hire a lawyer. She was probably like most people who are sued
by powerful and rich people: they̢۪re automatically intimidated by the
perception of authority that seems to go hand in hand with wealth and
they want it to go away and they want it to go quickly. She was in over
her head and her lack of legal knowledge was not only taken advantage
of, it was abused. She was in the deep end of the pool, floundering, on
the verge of drowning, and instead of doing the reasonable thing and
just recommending she hire her own attorney, they put their hand on her
head and pushed down, while showing her the life raft they held in
their other hand. Ok, that̢۪s complete and utter speculation, but
I̢۪ve seen it happen, so it̢۪s a logical assumption on my part.
As a former process server, I would have hated to have served these
papers and I can make a reasonable guess that this is not only when
Brianna̢۪s mother got involved, but when the lawyers realized they had
to cover their asses and they needed to do it quickly. You see, not
only is it illegal to sue a minor, it̢۪s also illegal to serve one.
You can serve an adult who happens to be at the house, even if the
respondent is there. Anyone who̢۪s over the age of eighteen can accept
service. I̢۪ll bet you anything that the process server knocked on the
door, asked for Brianna, saw she was twelve and then sussed something
was not right with this picture, but gave the papers to her mother. A
call went to the law firm after that and when Brianna̢۪s mother called
the lawyers, it was a godsend, because by that time, they̢۪d realized
their mistake. Here was the opportunity to get the job done
satisfactorily before a lawyer hired by her family capitalized on their
goof and snooped around to see just how Brianna̢۪s name was attached
when it wasn̢۪t on the Verizon account. This is the sort of thing
I̢۪ve seen lawsuits dismissed for. The fact they got a settlement out
of Brianna̢۪s family tells me that something of this nature happened.
It̢۪s despicable. Absolutely despicable. But there̢۪s no going back
now: a settlement has been signed, and unless someone who has hard
proof goes to the Bar Association, nothing̢۪s going to happen. And
lawyers wonder why people hate them. --- Here̢۪s your Chuckle of the Day.
Go forth and sin no more, my child .
Snort
--- Have a good weekend. See you on Monday.
seeking distraction---and in a completely accidental fashion--- coming
across a movie that you just love.
Roman Holiday
was on AMC last night, and I felt like I̢۪d been digging for gold and
came across a big ol̢۪ nugget. I just love that movie. I̢۪m a big
Audrey Hepburn fan and she̢۪s wonderful in the role of a princess on
the lam. But, I must admit, I̢۪d always thought Gregory Peck
completely wrong for the role of Joe, the rakish journalist who is a
stand-up guy when it comes down to it. Gregory Peck was
a stand-up guy---and you could tell he was kinda having a hard time
coming up with the rake element. It didn̢۪t come naturally to him. I
don̢۪t know who would have done it better, though. Bogart? Nah. That
would be the opposite: too much rough rogue, not enough stand-up good
guy. He would have written the article, then been wistful about the
choices a broke man must make to pay the rent. Cary Grant? Nah. Too
smooth. He would have done his darndest to make sure the princess ran
off with him. (And honestly, what woman could have resisted that?)
Jimmy Stewart? He comes close, I guess, but not rough enough around the
edges. Hmmmph. A question for the ages, no doubt. As usual, I digress.
Last night I changed my mind about Gregory Peck though, and I̢۪m
finding myself wondering about him. Because, and this is probably me
just getting older and liking different things in men, but damn!
was he sexy! Yeah, I know: he died earlier this summer at the ripe old
age of 87. I̢۪m glad he had a nice long life, but thanks to the
glories of the modern world, I can have a crush on a guy who was old
enough to be my grandfather, but was damn good looking in his youth.
It̢۪s a good thing his youth was recorded for posterity. Adds a whole
new meaning to the word unrequited, doesn̢۪t it?
{evil chuckle} Yes. I am a sick puppy. I know this already
I don̢۪t know exactly what it is that I̢۪m suddenly finding appealing
about him, but it probably boils down to the fact he was a man---with a
capital M. Good, bad or somewhere in between, he was male
and gloriously so. Not to mention, he could dance, which is a good
thing in my book. When he took Audrey for a twirl, you could tell he
was the one leading, which is not something you see very often these
days. A remnant of an almost-forgotten era, I suppose, and one that
never ceases to surprise me when I do see it. People used to learn how
to dance: it was expected. You needed to be able to cut a rug, because,
damnit, that̢۪s when you had fun and got to get your hands on a girl
or a guy in public. Back then no one wanted to be that guy who says, no, I don̢۪t dance
and sits around the whole time trying to look cool. Dancing was what
you did to see if you could move with someone; to see if it was
worthwhile to take it further. It was an exercise in sensuality that
we̢۪re missing out on today. Nowadays, when people dance, it̢۪s
always more of a let̢۪s-move-repeatedly-in-a-circle sort of agreement
that they come to because no one knows how to do it properly; if they
really want to know if they move well together, they generally just hop
in the sack because that̢۪s not a boo-boo anymore. Everyone used to
dance; now you only dance with someone you really care for, who won̢۪t
make fun of you if you̢۪re bad at it. Rarely does any leading go on.
Gregory led, and I just find that incredibly sexy.
Now, don̢۪t throw out all sorts of politically correct,
hairy-armpitted, bra-torching, feminist arguments my way about how men
should never lead, and the fact they are taught to at dancing classes
all over the world is just one more obvious example of how latently
sexist our society is. Pffft. I̢۪m not buying, so sell it somewhere
else. In my opinion, men are supposed to lead when dancing because,
duh, they̢۪re generally bigger than women.
As a relatively short woman I know this. They can see where they̢۪re
going. I can̢۪t, even if I̢۪m in heels. Gregory, I found this
morning, was six-foot-three. He could see, so he led. It̢۪s a big
assumption, but I̢۪ll bet anything if he was dancing with a
six-foot-four woman in three-inch heels, he probably would have gotten
over the awkwardness of the situation quickly and let himself be led.
I like men who can dance. I̢۪m not talking about men who can
successfully pull off the white-man̢۪s-overbite. I̢۪m talking about
guys whose mothers were secretly enamored of Fred Astaire or Gene
Kelly; women who sent their sons to ballroom lessons in between Little
League practices in the secret hope their sons would surpass their
fathers in this arena. They̢۪re out there: you just have to go
looking. When do you find a guy who can actually lead, and does so,
it̢۪s a wonder. Suddenly, you find yourself moving around a dance
floor as if your feet belonged to someone else who has the coordination
that you usually lack. And it̢۪s thrilling in an odd sort of way when
you finally realize that being led around a dance floor is a good thing. When a man puts one of his hands in yours, the other is molding your waist, you’re forced to look up at him, and whooshâ€Â¦off you go, twirling around a room, you rapidly come to the conclusion that there are many good points to being a woman and this
is one of them. And it gets even better when you dump the guilt you
feel because it doesn̢۪t mean you̢۪re not being a good little
feminist by being led, it means you̢۪re just being female.
Dancing is a celebration of couplehood; a small sighting of what men
and women can do together when they put their minds and bodies to it; a
hint of the potential if you go do something else later in the
evening. {eyebrows-in-need-of-a-serious-plucking wiggling} When I
watched Gregory dancing, all of that sensual potential was there in
abundance, but it wasn̢۪t blatant. It was quiet and it was lovely,
just as I presume he meant for it to be. Manâ€Â¦with a capital M.
Purrrr. --- It̢۪s been all over the media the past few days, so I̢۪ll
dump my two cents worth because it pisses me off. Yep. They̢۪re suing
twelve-year-olds now. Have these people no shame? Go here and here.
"I am sorry for what I have done," LaHara said. "I love music and don't want to hurt the artists I love."
It was much better than Cats. I’ll go and see it again and again and againâ€Â¦
Given the fact most twelve-year-old girls nowadays like boy bands,
Britney and Christina and other prepackaged---bullshit---music that is
already paid for in spades with merchandising, tours and brightly
designed CD̢۪s every girl just has to have, I don̢۪t think Miss
LaHara was hurting
anyone by frequenting Kazaa or Morpheus or Limewire. What̢۪s really at
issue here is the legal maneuvering done on behalf of the RIAA and how
sleazy it is.
I don̢۪t really know for sure what happened with Miss LaHara but I can
speculate, and as a person with plenty of past work experience in the
legal field, I will do so. An old boss of mine was fond of telling
prospective clients when they balked at his fees that the man who hires himself as his attorney has a fool for a client.
And this is exactly why this story reeks; it̢۪s not the copyright
issues, although that just adds fuel to the fire, it̢۪s the fact the
RIAA̢۪s lawyers took advantage. They crossed the lines of decency in
their quest to crack-down. For me, this whole thing smacks of part
procedural goof, part ass covering, and part hotboxing of a
responsible, yet non-lawyer, respondent. The lawyers cocked this one up and the respondent didn̢۪t know any better so they̢۪re getting away with it. .
So, in essence, we̢۪ve got a twelve-old girl downloading music on her
computer. It̢۪s unclear, the article said, how the RIAA attached
Brianna̢۪s name to the lawsuit. It was unclear because they don̢۪t
want to answer the question. When, in the recent history of mankind,
has a twelve-year old girl had enough credit to qualify for a phone
account? Never. So I̢۪m going to make a leap here and say that the
reason Brianna̢۪s name was on the lawsuit was because the RIAA went
one step too far in their research and then the lawyers fucked up. The
lawyers apparently didn̢۪t have the good sense to check and make sure
her name matched up with the name on the Verizon account. I personally
think the RIAA snooped too far, maybe by inserting data mining cookies
on Brianna̢۪s computer or something of that sort, and came up with her
name that way. The methodology isn̢۪t something I̢۪m good at, so if
someone wants to run with this angle, by all means go for it. It will
be important in the future, but it̢۪s not relevant right now. Somehow
they came up with her name.
What is important is that when Brianna̢۪s mother, who no doubt was
terrified at the prospect of her daughter being sued, called to
negotiate with them, they shoved her into a corner and boxed her in.
This is what I mean by hotboxing: it̢۪s a sorority rush term. You take
a potential pledge you really want to join your house aside during rush
(a big no-no)and you tell them all the bad things that will happen to
them if they don̢۪t join your house, playing up the social shunning
angle quite a bit in your description. You slam the other sororities on
their short list. In essence, you take someone̢۪s insecurities and you
tweak and twist them to your benefit. It̢۪s now part of that ever
growing list of things that define hazing in college Greek systems, and
it̢۪s not supposed to happen anymore. But that doesn̢۪t mean it
doesn̢۪t happen in real life, and this is one of those instances. The
short time period between the service of the papers and when the
settlement was announced declares---loudly---that they hotboxed
Brianna̢۪s mother into a settlement. I can almost hear it now, can̢۪t
you? Well, Ms. Torres, your
daughter is in a lot of trouble and we̢۪d hate to see this go any
further. Yes, yes. We understand you didn̢۪t think she was doing
anything wrong, but the law is the law, Ms. Torres. Ignorance is no
defense. I can̢۪t tell you if you should retain an attorney or not,
Ms. Torres. I really shouldn̢۪t say, but do you really think that̢۪s
necessary? I̢۪m sure you don̢۪t need the added financial burden of
hiring an attorney. Lawyers just rack up their bills, Ms. Torres.
{laughter} I can tell you that from experience. We don̢۪t want it to
become worse than it already is, and you sound very intelligent,
ma̢۪am. I think you know what̢۪s best here for your daughter. Some
lawyer out of the yellow pages wouldn̢۪t really help you at all and
would make it more adversarial than it already is and we really don̢۪t
want that. This whole debacle could seriously damage Brianna’s reputation for the rest of her lifeâ€Â¦
The RIAA lawyers didn̢۪t want Mrs. Torres going to an attorney; a
second year law student at a third rate university could have told
Brianna̢۪s mother that it could have been dismissed---quickly---and
they wouldn̢۪t have had to pay a dime. Brianna̢۪s mother didn̢۪t
know that AHEM you can̢۪t sue a minor.
It̢۪s federal law, kids. Look it up. In any lawsuit petition, and
believe me, I̢۪ve typed up a few, the plaintiff---in this case the
RIAA---has to attest to two things: that the respondent is over the age
of eighteen and that they are not a member of the U.S. military because
under the Soldiers and Sailors Relief Act of 1944, an active member of
the military cannot be sued. I̢۪ve cut and pasted that clause hundreds
of times. This is the mother of all procedural cock-ups . What worries
me is that the RIAA and their lawyers aren̢۪t going to be called on it
because it was quickly settled.
So, what happened here? How did Brianna̢۪s mother miss this one? She
didn̢۪t hire a lawyer. She was probably like most people who are sued
by powerful and rich people: they̢۪re automatically intimidated by the
perception of authority that seems to go hand in hand with wealth and
they want it to go away and they want it to go quickly. She was in over
her head and her lack of legal knowledge was not only taken advantage
of, it was abused. She was in the deep end of the pool, floundering, on
the verge of drowning, and instead of doing the reasonable thing and
just recommending she hire her own attorney, they put their hand on her
head and pushed down, while showing her the life raft they held in
their other hand. Ok, that̢۪s complete and utter speculation, but
I̢۪ve seen it happen, so it̢۪s a logical assumption on my part.
As a former process server, I would have hated to have served these
papers and I can make a reasonable guess that this is not only when
Brianna̢۪s mother got involved, but when the lawyers realized they had
to cover their asses and they needed to do it quickly. You see, not
only is it illegal to sue a minor, it̢۪s also illegal to serve one.
You can serve an adult who happens to be at the house, even if the
respondent is there. Anyone who̢۪s over the age of eighteen can accept
service. I̢۪ll bet you anything that the process server knocked on the
door, asked for Brianna, saw she was twelve and then sussed something
was not right with this picture, but gave the papers to her mother. A
call went to the law firm after that and when Brianna̢۪s mother called
the lawyers, it was a godsend, because by that time, they̢۪d realized
their mistake. Here was the opportunity to get the job done
satisfactorily before a lawyer hired by her family capitalized on their
goof and snooped around to see just how Brianna̢۪s name was attached
when it wasn̢۪t on the Verizon account. This is the sort of thing
I̢۪ve seen lawsuits dismissed for. The fact they got a settlement out
of Brianna̢۪s family tells me that something of this nature happened.
It̢۪s despicable. Absolutely despicable. But there̢۪s no going back
now: a settlement has been signed, and unless someone who has hard
proof goes to the Bar Association, nothing̢۪s going to happen. And
lawyers wonder why people hate them. --- Here̢۪s your Chuckle of the Day.
Go forth and sin no more, my child .
Snort
--- Have a good weekend. See you on Monday.
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--- Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Massive
--- Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Massive sighs. Massive, massive sighs.
Oh well. Everyone̢۪s entitled to their opinion, right?
Hey, if nothing else it̢۪s a testament to what America can do for a
guy. Here you have a man who has described himself as poor white trash
from Kentucky, who subsequently went to Hollywood, worked his ass off
and made himself a success. He̢۪s gone off to France to live the good
life, eat cheese, drink wine and sniff the flowers in Provence. Hey,
good for him. He̢۪s an American after all: we have a tendency to dream
big dreams. Who can blame him if that̢۪s his dream? I can̢۪t. I
wouldn̢۪t mind living in the south of France, and other than the
language difficulties that would undoubtedly arise, it still sounds
pretty damn good to me. Well done, Johnny. Your talent has taken you
places. However, just remember, Johnny, as much as you think of your
home country as a “â€Â¦ dumb puppy that has big teethâ€Â¦Ã¢€ we’re
also your main audience, as well. I don̢۪t think Pirates of the Caribbean would have gone over quite so well had you said that while you were out promoting it here.
It̢۪s always a mistake to underestimate your audience̢۪s level of
intelligence. Stop underestimating mine, Johnny, by playing up to the
German media̢۪s hate of the U.S. and subsequently assuming people here
in the states won̢۪t find out about it. --- Yeah, but try telling them that.
{Insert Gomer Pyle voice here}
SURPRISE, SURPRISE, SURPRISE!
{Now switch over to an angry female voice}
Get rid of the IRS, give us a goddamn flat tax and be done with it already, would you?
--- “â€Â¦I’m
not a coward; I̢۪ve just never been tested. I̢۪d like to think that
if I was I would pass. Look at the tested and think there but for the
grace go I. Might be a coward, I̢۪m afraid of what I might find
outâ€Â¦Ã¢€
-The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, The Impression That I Get
I̢۪m a coward according to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. I failed the
test. “There but for the grace go I†is a phrase that no longer
holds any sway in regards to me. Sigh. There̢۪s no getting around it.
I am officially a squeaky, screechy, girly girl.
In the wee hours this morning, we had our first aviary experience in
the Cake Eater apartment. It still shouldn̢۪t be so surprising to me
considering we have a fireplace, the chimney has no screens over it,
and nine times out of ten the flue is open, but I̢۪d always thought
we̢۪d get away without ever having a winged beast fly into the house.
Isn’t my naiveté charming? I always thought so. {You can insert your
snorts of delight at my idiocy here}
Granted, I̢۪m not a stranger to birds and other outdoorsy creatures
getting into houses I̢۪ve resided in. I grew up in a big old house
with a massive fireplace that separated our living room from our family
room. This was neat in itself because, when there was a fire lit, we
got to enjoy it from two different rooms. But, since it was a big
fireplace, it also had a big
chimney, that was, yes, you guessed it, unscreened. Fortunately,
however, I never was forced to deal with the occasional bird that would
fly in, looking for warmth. My mother invariably got this job and her
reaction to it was to call the Humane Society. They would come out,
trap whatever it was, and take it away and then we̢۪d get to hear
about it when we got home from school, because, also fortunately, these
incidents always happened when we were gone. So, I always had a
secondhand experience with this sort of thing, and to be quite honest,
I never wanted to have it become firsthand knowledge. Not because I
despise outdoorsy creatures so much, (which I do, but that̢۪s a whole
different story for a whole different day) but because, like the Mighty
Mighty Bosstones, I didn̢۪t know if I would like what I would find out
about myself if I did. Well, I am innocent no longer. I know now. Shed
a tear for me when you find the time to close the window that̢۪s
running the message boards you visit where you bleat on about
inconsequential stuff, like tips on where the prostitutes are in Grand Theft Auto.
About 12:30 or so this morning, I was in my usual spot on the sofa,
working on my manuscript, when I saw motion out of the corner of my
eye. Since the husband had already gone off to bed, I thought maybe
he̢۪d woken up and had come out for some reason. Nope. I was wrong. I
turned my head and there was this bat
circling the airspace above the dining and living rooms, which are
barely separated by an archway. Now, the Cake Eater apartment is not a
large one. It̢۪s roomy, yes, but you can̢۪t really miss a bat
circling over your dining room table, like it̢۪s a 747 just waiting
for permission from the tower to begin its descent. The apartment is
just not that big. Then, when it switched directions and looked like it
was coming in my direction, its wings gloriously outstretched in
mid-flap, I screeched in absolute panic. The screech then morphed into
the sound a stuck pig emits: a high pitched squeal that could be heard
for miles, I̢۪m sure. Then, using incredible logic, I tried to go as low as I could
without moving all that much. I vaguely remembered something about bats
sensing motion, rather than seeing it, and I didn̢۪t want it to come anywhere near me,
images of it landing on my head and crawling into my hair racing
grotesquely through my mind, so basically the best course of action I
could come up with in my panic was to try to crawl into the couch with
as little movement as possible, which, of course, didn̢۪t work very
well.
The husband came out of the bedroom, wondering what all the racket was
about. “There’s a bat in here!†I yelped, still trying to go even
lower on the sofa without any discernable movement. I cannot tell you
how much I love this man. He was calm personified. “Ok, let me go get
some clothes on.†He then went back to the bedroom, and just as he
did, the bat completed its most recent loop of the dining and living
rooms and went back there with him. I held my breath and didn̢۪t move.
What happened next was an auditory experience, because I sure as hell
wasn̢۪t moving from my spot to see what was going on. (My chaise had
proven to be well out of range of this bat̢۪s flight plan, and damnit,
I was staying put!) The husband said, “Damn!†in a mild tone of
voice. He opened and closed the linen closet, then turned on the office
light, which makes a rather distinctive sound when you flip the switch.
I then heard a thud and the husband came out with a folded up towel in
his hands a few seconds later. “You got him?†I gasped in awe.
“Yep.†Then he calmly walked over to the fireplace, the bat towel
in hand, and checked the flue. “Huh,†he commented eloquently, a
look of mild surprise on his handsome, cool-as-a-cucumber-in
the-face-of-a-bat-menace countenance. “It’s closed. There must be a
hole in there,†he sussed with a slight shrug of his broad,
bat-blasting shoulders. He then took the flying rodent outside and let
him go. He crawled back into bed and went back to reading his book,
completely undisturbed by the incident, whereas I sat up for another
hour and a half, waiting for my stomach to stop jumping around. As it
turns out, the husband hit the little bugger on the first try with the
towel. Then when Mr. Bat fell to the carpet in the office, stunned by
the blow, he threw the towel over the beast and wrapped him up in it.
Time of entire crisis: three minutes. Time to figure out that I̢۪m a
squeaky, wussy, girly girl when there̢۪s a flying rodent in the house:
three seconds. Germaine Greer can come over and shoot me now. I̢۪m a
disgrace to my sex. Sigh. ---Beware of this company
Now, why should I beware
this company? you ask. Their website looks nice and professional. It
hits all the high points: experience, good customer service, dedication
to their task, a good product. Hey, there must be something good
there. Right?
WRONG!
It̢۪s funny how word travels sometimes. Gossip floats here, there and
everywhere, and thanks to the Internet, it now can be a worldwide
pastime. This
is an example of how gossip can spread all the way from Spain to the
Twin Cities in the time it takes to blink an eye. A phone call to a
former customer to say, “Hey, check out my new companyâ€
leads to a call to a friend, who then calls my husband. You̢۪d think
this would be something coffee-klatch ladies would do, rather than men
and women who make their money in the new economy, but I suppose it̢۪s
not much different in the scheme of things because it̢۪s still
necessary to always be aware of people who will rip you off.
You̢۪ll notice on the site there aren̢۪t any names of people to
contact. They give out Yahoo messenger addresses so you can chat with them in real time,
as if this is the latest and greatest technological advance known to
mankind. They give out email addresses with no names attached. It̢۪s custsvc,
instead. There̢۪s a reason for this anonymity, and it̢۪s not because
their organization is simply too large to put everyone̢۪s name on the
website. It̢۪s because this is a one-man-band type of operation and
he̢۪s trying to convince you otherwise. Don̢۪t trust him. Believe me,
the one man who̢۪s behind the band is not someone who̢۪s deserving of
your hard-earned money.
Well, what̢۪s with all the barely-leashed animosity, Kathy? you ask.
Let me explain. The man behind this website is Tony Tanner. Now, to try
and strive for fairness, Tony is a very smart guy. He can program like
no one̢۪s business, and he really is quite brilliant with all things
computer-y. I̢۪m sure he̢۪s quite good at calculus, but he cannot add
two and two and come up with four. His solution to the problem of two
plus two would be to never solve the damn problem and then hide in his
office and assume no one would challenge him on his refusal. My husband
used to work for Tony at a now-defunct company called Active Logic.
That little graphic of the computer with the slashing arrow on the 360
website used to be Active Logic̢۪s logo. The husband was the head
strategy guy, hired on in 2000. His role in the company expanded over
the next ten months and when Active Logic needed new offices, the task
fell to the husband to put everything together for the move. He had to
find new office space, have it finished, procure new office furniture,
etc. A fairly large task, and one that he was willing to do because he
thought it was a great opportunity to show off Active Logic̢۪s
success. Well, in the process of procuring a new office and its
accoutrements, the husband realized that things were not as they seemed
as far as the financial situation of the company was concerned. What
was presented to the husband as a fast growing company with too much
work and too few people to handle all of it, was in fact a company that
had dissatisfied customers, a shrinking client list, and most
importantly, owners who couldn̢۪t balance a checkbook. Owners who were
robbing Peter to pay Paul. And much later, when he applied for
unemployment after the inevitable layoff, he found they hadn̢۪t paid
the matching funds all employers have to pay on state and federal taxes
and had trouble procuring the unemployment as a result. To put it
quickly, Tony and his partner, had no idea how to run a business. Nor
would they accept help when offered, because that would mean revealing
their ignorance in business matters, and that they couldn̢۪t have.
It̢۪s a long, drawn out affair, but the result of the situation was
that my husband was laid-off via email by Mr. Tanner, saying they could no longer afford to pay his salary while we were on our vacation.
Tony and his former partner still owe the husband---and most of the
other former employees of Active Logic---money. The husband quickly
gave up any hope of recovering his lost wages, kept the laptop they̢۪d
provided him in lieu of compensation and moved on. But Tony̢۪s antics
have been a point of interest to us since this happened. Late last year
we̢۪d heard that Active Logic, after many different incarnations, had
finally gone down the tubes for good and that Tony had hopped a plane
to Spain to be with a wife no one knew he had. I guess he̢۪s still
there, trying this scam from the other side of the Atlantic. Don̢۪t
give him any business. He̢۪s not trustworthy. There̢۪s always talk of
the Internet and its occupiers regulating things themselves. We don̢۪t want any government here! Well, here̢۪s my bid for regulation. Give this man money and you can kiss it goodbye. And if he tries to hire you, run the other way!
Oh well. Everyone̢۪s entitled to their opinion, right?
Hey, if nothing else it̢۪s a testament to what America can do for a
guy. Here you have a man who has described himself as poor white trash
from Kentucky, who subsequently went to Hollywood, worked his ass off
and made himself a success. He̢۪s gone off to France to live the good
life, eat cheese, drink wine and sniff the flowers in Provence. Hey,
good for him. He̢۪s an American after all: we have a tendency to dream
big dreams. Who can blame him if that̢۪s his dream? I can̢۪t. I
wouldn̢۪t mind living in the south of France, and other than the
language difficulties that would undoubtedly arise, it still sounds
pretty damn good to me. Well done, Johnny. Your talent has taken you
places. However, just remember, Johnny, as much as you think of your
home country as a “â€Â¦ dumb puppy that has big teethâ€Â¦Ã¢€ we’re
also your main audience, as well. I don̢۪t think Pirates of the Caribbean would have gone over quite so well had you said that while you were out promoting it here.
It̢۪s always a mistake to underestimate your audience̢۪s level of
intelligence. Stop underestimating mine, Johnny, by playing up to the
German media̢۪s hate of the U.S. and subsequently assuming people here
in the states won̢۪t find out about it. --- Yeah, but try telling them that.
{Insert Gomer Pyle voice here}
SURPRISE, SURPRISE, SURPRISE!
{Now switch over to an angry female voice}
Get rid of the IRS, give us a goddamn flat tax and be done with it already, would you?
--- “â€Â¦I’m
not a coward; I̢۪ve just never been tested. I̢۪d like to think that
if I was I would pass. Look at the tested and think there but for the
grace go I. Might be a coward, I̢۪m afraid of what I might find
outâ€Â¦Ã¢€
-The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, The Impression That I Get
I̢۪m a coward according to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. I failed the
test. “There but for the grace go I†is a phrase that no longer
holds any sway in regards to me. Sigh. There̢۪s no getting around it.
I am officially a squeaky, screechy, girly girl.
In the wee hours this morning, we had our first aviary experience in
the Cake Eater apartment. It still shouldn̢۪t be so surprising to me
considering we have a fireplace, the chimney has no screens over it,
and nine times out of ten the flue is open, but I̢۪d always thought
we̢۪d get away without ever having a winged beast fly into the house.
Isn’t my naiveté charming? I always thought so. {You can insert your
snorts of delight at my idiocy here}
Granted, I̢۪m not a stranger to birds and other outdoorsy creatures
getting into houses I̢۪ve resided in. I grew up in a big old house
with a massive fireplace that separated our living room from our family
room. This was neat in itself because, when there was a fire lit, we
got to enjoy it from two different rooms. But, since it was a big
fireplace, it also had a big
chimney, that was, yes, you guessed it, unscreened. Fortunately,
however, I never was forced to deal with the occasional bird that would
fly in, looking for warmth. My mother invariably got this job and her
reaction to it was to call the Humane Society. They would come out,
trap whatever it was, and take it away and then we̢۪d get to hear
about it when we got home from school, because, also fortunately, these
incidents always happened when we were gone. So, I always had a
secondhand experience with this sort of thing, and to be quite honest,
I never wanted to have it become firsthand knowledge. Not because I
despise outdoorsy creatures so much, (which I do, but that̢۪s a whole
different story for a whole different day) but because, like the Mighty
Mighty Bosstones, I didn̢۪t know if I would like what I would find out
about myself if I did. Well, I am innocent no longer. I know now. Shed
a tear for me when you find the time to close the window that̢۪s
running the message boards you visit where you bleat on about
inconsequential stuff, like tips on where the prostitutes are in Grand Theft Auto.
About 12:30 or so this morning, I was in my usual spot on the sofa,
working on my manuscript, when I saw motion out of the corner of my
eye. Since the husband had already gone off to bed, I thought maybe
he̢۪d woken up and had come out for some reason. Nope. I was wrong. I
turned my head and there was this bat
circling the airspace above the dining and living rooms, which are
barely separated by an archway. Now, the Cake Eater apartment is not a
large one. It̢۪s roomy, yes, but you can̢۪t really miss a bat
circling over your dining room table, like it̢۪s a 747 just waiting
for permission from the tower to begin its descent. The apartment is
just not that big. Then, when it switched directions and looked like it
was coming in my direction, its wings gloriously outstretched in
mid-flap, I screeched in absolute panic. The screech then morphed into
the sound a stuck pig emits: a high pitched squeal that could be heard
for miles, I̢۪m sure. Then, using incredible logic, I tried to go as low as I could
without moving all that much. I vaguely remembered something about bats
sensing motion, rather than seeing it, and I didn̢۪t want it to come anywhere near me,
images of it landing on my head and crawling into my hair racing
grotesquely through my mind, so basically the best course of action I
could come up with in my panic was to try to crawl into the couch with
as little movement as possible, which, of course, didn̢۪t work very
well.
The husband came out of the bedroom, wondering what all the racket was
about. “There’s a bat in here!†I yelped, still trying to go even
lower on the sofa without any discernable movement. I cannot tell you
how much I love this man. He was calm personified. “Ok, let me go get
some clothes on.†He then went back to the bedroom, and just as he
did, the bat completed its most recent loop of the dining and living
rooms and went back there with him. I held my breath and didn̢۪t move.
What happened next was an auditory experience, because I sure as hell
wasn̢۪t moving from my spot to see what was going on. (My chaise had
proven to be well out of range of this bat̢۪s flight plan, and damnit,
I was staying put!) The husband said, “Damn!†in a mild tone of
voice. He opened and closed the linen closet, then turned on the office
light, which makes a rather distinctive sound when you flip the switch.
I then heard a thud and the husband came out with a folded up towel in
his hands a few seconds later. “You got him?†I gasped in awe.
“Yep.†Then he calmly walked over to the fireplace, the bat towel
in hand, and checked the flue. “Huh,†he commented eloquently, a
look of mild surprise on his handsome, cool-as-a-cucumber-in
the-face-of-a-bat-menace countenance. “It’s closed. There must be a
hole in there,†he sussed with a slight shrug of his broad,
bat-blasting shoulders. He then took the flying rodent outside and let
him go. He crawled back into bed and went back to reading his book,
completely undisturbed by the incident, whereas I sat up for another
hour and a half, waiting for my stomach to stop jumping around. As it
turns out, the husband hit the little bugger on the first try with the
towel. Then when Mr. Bat fell to the carpet in the office, stunned by
the blow, he threw the towel over the beast and wrapped him up in it.
Time of entire crisis: three minutes. Time to figure out that I̢۪m a
squeaky, wussy, girly girl when there̢۪s a flying rodent in the house:
three seconds. Germaine Greer can come over and shoot me now. I̢۪m a
disgrace to my sex. Sigh. ---Beware of this company
Now, why should I beware
this company? you ask. Their website looks nice and professional. It
hits all the high points: experience, good customer service, dedication
to their task, a good product. Hey, there must be something good
there. Right?
WRONG!
It̢۪s funny how word travels sometimes. Gossip floats here, there and
everywhere, and thanks to the Internet, it now can be a worldwide
pastime. This
is an example of how gossip can spread all the way from Spain to the
Twin Cities in the time it takes to blink an eye. A phone call to a
former customer to say, “Hey, check out my new companyâ€
leads to a call to a friend, who then calls my husband. You̢۪d think
this would be something coffee-klatch ladies would do, rather than men
and women who make their money in the new economy, but I suppose it̢۪s
not much different in the scheme of things because it̢۪s still
necessary to always be aware of people who will rip you off.
You̢۪ll notice on the site there aren̢۪t any names of people to
contact. They give out Yahoo messenger addresses so you can chat with them in real time,
as if this is the latest and greatest technological advance known to
mankind. They give out email addresses with no names attached. It̢۪s custsvc,
instead. There̢۪s a reason for this anonymity, and it̢۪s not because
their organization is simply too large to put everyone̢۪s name on the
website. It̢۪s because this is a one-man-band type of operation and
he̢۪s trying to convince you otherwise. Don̢۪t trust him. Believe me,
the one man who̢۪s behind the band is not someone who̢۪s deserving of
your hard-earned money.
Well, what̢۪s with all the barely-leashed animosity, Kathy? you ask.
Let me explain. The man behind this website is Tony Tanner. Now, to try
and strive for fairness, Tony is a very smart guy. He can program like
no one̢۪s business, and he really is quite brilliant with all things
computer-y. I̢۪m sure he̢۪s quite good at calculus, but he cannot add
two and two and come up with four. His solution to the problem of two
plus two would be to never solve the damn problem and then hide in his
office and assume no one would challenge him on his refusal. My husband
used to work for Tony at a now-defunct company called Active Logic.
That little graphic of the computer with the slashing arrow on the 360
website used to be Active Logic̢۪s logo. The husband was the head
strategy guy, hired on in 2000. His role in the company expanded over
the next ten months and when Active Logic needed new offices, the task
fell to the husband to put everything together for the move. He had to
find new office space, have it finished, procure new office furniture,
etc. A fairly large task, and one that he was willing to do because he
thought it was a great opportunity to show off Active Logic̢۪s
success. Well, in the process of procuring a new office and its
accoutrements, the husband realized that things were not as they seemed
as far as the financial situation of the company was concerned. What
was presented to the husband as a fast growing company with too much
work and too few people to handle all of it, was in fact a company that
had dissatisfied customers, a shrinking client list, and most
importantly, owners who couldn̢۪t balance a checkbook. Owners who were
robbing Peter to pay Paul. And much later, when he applied for
unemployment after the inevitable layoff, he found they hadn̢۪t paid
the matching funds all employers have to pay on state and federal taxes
and had trouble procuring the unemployment as a result. To put it
quickly, Tony and his partner, had no idea how to run a business. Nor
would they accept help when offered, because that would mean revealing
their ignorance in business matters, and that they couldn̢۪t have.
It̢۪s a long, drawn out affair, but the result of the situation was
that my husband was laid-off via email by Mr. Tanner, saying they could no longer afford to pay his salary while we were on our vacation.
Tony and his former partner still owe the husband---and most of the
other former employees of Active Logic---money. The husband quickly
gave up any hope of recovering his lost wages, kept the laptop they̢۪d
provided him in lieu of compensation and moved on. But Tony̢۪s antics
have been a point of interest to us since this happened. Late last year
we̢۪d heard that Active Logic, after many different incarnations, had
finally gone down the tubes for good and that Tony had hopped a plane
to Spain to be with a wife no one knew he had. I guess he̢۪s still
there, trying this scam from the other side of the Atlantic. Don̢۪t
give him any business. He̢۪s not trustworthy. There̢۪s always talk of
the Internet and its occupiers regulating things themselves. We don̢۪t want any government here! Well, here̢۪s my bid for regulation. Give this man money and you can kiss it goodbye. And if he tries to hire you, run the other way!
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--- Just call him John
--- Just call him John “Cut to the Chase†Kerry.
I̢۪m tempted to give him points for just wanting to skip through all the bullshit.
Naaaaaah
As far as Operation: Libermania,
wellâ€Â¦massive sigh.
I used to live in one of those early states. And I all I can say is I
offer my full-fledged sympathies for all the regular stiffs who live in
either New Hampshire or Iowa. I recommend getting a Rottweiler and
caller-id if you don̢۪t want the campaigns to contact you.
Contrary to what the media would have you believe, the normal joe in
either state wants nothing to do with all of the political b.s. that
drops in on their doorstep, like manna from hell, every four years.
It̢۪s a boost to the economy, that̢۪s true: an old server friend of
mine made three hundred bucks in tips from Tom Brokaw one night before
the caucuses. He paid her rent that month. It̢۪s also interesting to
watch, honestly, because all of these people you know aren̢۪t
political the other 364 days out of the year suddenly turn into
analysts of the first order and you get a really
good idea of which farmers to pay attention to. But you really don̢۪t
want to be a registered voter in either place because when a
candidate̢۪s campaign calls your house six times within a forty-eight
hour period before the caucuses, reminding you to make sure you go and support our candidate
it gets a wee bit annoying. And that̢۪s just one candidate. We̢۪re
not talking about the other nine who might be on the ballot who want
your vote just as much as the other guy does.
Before the 1996 caucuses, I actually had to disconnect my phone because
Bob Dole̢۪s campaign wouldn̢۪t stop calling. They had some database
problems, obviously. One person would call, then a half hour later,
another would call, you̢۪d tell them they were annoying you, they̢۪d
apologize and then a day later, you’d get another callâ€Â¦then
another, and so on and so forth. Say nothing of Lamar Alexander̢۪s
campaign, or Pat Buchanan̢۪s or any of the other nimrods who were in
the running.
Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, trashed the t-shirt and am
now using it to clean the bottom of the toilet. --- Halle-freakin̢۪-lujah!
But did he get the ring back?
--- This is curious.
So, they won̢۪t rush into a burning girls̢۪ school because they̢۪re
worried about modesty issues, but they̢۪ll rescue prisoners? That̢۪s so nice.
@##%$%$#@$^%^*(&â€Â¦!
---Hey, I watched Contact.
I remember that the first televised broadcast shot out into space was
Hitler at the 1936 Olympics. Maybe this is just the aliens answering
back? {Insert Twlight Zone music here}
--- Was at the drugstore the other day and wound up buying the 70th
Anniversary issue of Esquire.
Yes, I know: it̢۪s a men̢۪s magazine. So? I like it because it
confirms all those ideas I have about how men̢۪s brains aren̢۪t in
their heads, but instead reside in their crotches. It̢۪s always nice
to be right, after all. So, I̢۪m flipping through it and am somewhat
annoyed by all their nasty Bush comments, yet am impressed by Gay
Talese̢۪s portrait of Frank Sinatra, which was picked by the editors
as the best feature ever published in Esquire,
and despite Talese̢۪s annoying use of the term Negroes, I find myself
agreeing with them. I also liked their “Best Seventy Sentencesâ€
ever feature. I sighed and skipped the obligatory tribute to Muhammed
Ali (honestly, who gives a crap about boxing? Ugh.) Then we got down to
who they considered to be “The Man of the Last Seventy Years.†And
who should it be but JFK
Ok, skip right over Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Gordon Moore, Watson and
Crick, Ronald Reagan, Jack Kirby, Winston Churchill, FDR, Charles De
Gaulle, Richard Feynman, Stephen Hawking, just to name a few, and go
with the mushy, feel-good, boomer-idolizing President who squeaked into
office with fewer votes than the current occupant of the Oval Office
(Cook County Morgue, anyone?) and say that he̢۪s
the most important man of the last seventy years? Whatever. I am so
fucking sick of Kennedys. Their whole golden-dynasty,
don̢۪t-you-wish-you-were-one-of-us?, Camelot myth/PR campaign has
completely backfired on me. The media laps it up, though, and so we are
subjected to more and more books about the affairs JFK had, how ill he
was, how classy Jackie was (and she was classy, I̢۪m not denying
that), how JFK Jr. was being smacked around by his perfect blonde wife,
ad nauseum, ad infinitum. I am sick of the Kennedys.
Gag-me-with-a-spoon sick. If I have to listen to one more friggin̢۪
minute of Michael Skakel̢۪s (the Kennedy cousin) garbage on CNN,
I̢۪ll puke. But this article was beyond the pale. Despite the fact
it̢۪s Oliver Stone-y in its tone (ya know, it was the
military-industrial complex who brought this fine specimen of a man
down because he wanted to pull out of Vietnam and they killed him
before he could do soâ€Â¦the Mr. X speech delivered so convincingly by
Donald Sutherland in the movie), it̢۪s complete and utter fluff. I̢۪m
not going to touch that because it would be too easy. However, the man
who wrote it, Charles P. Pierce, claimed in his little “about the
contributors†spiel that “â€Â¦we
thought that this is the most important guy in the history of our
magazine because of the way he changed almost everything---not only how
politicians act, but how we look at how they act.†Thanks, Mr.
Pierce! I thought it was enough to pin JFK̢۪s ass to the wall over the
landmine-ridden relations with Cuba and Cuban-Americans we now endure
because he didn̢۪t provide air support at the Bay of Pigs. Now I
realize I can blame the sleazy fiasco American politics has become on
the martyr who was the most celebrated, most fawned over, most admired
President of the past forty years. JFK. I so appreciate it.
“In his study of the Kennedy presidency, author Richard Reeves
quotes Kennedy himself as a center of a spoked wheel and, in doing so,
inadvertently posing a insoluble riddle to what would become, after his
death, a nation of his biographers. By the time he got to Dallas, John
Kennedy had grown comfortable with living in the plural.
“It was instinctive,†Kennedy said. “I had different identities,
and this was a useful way of expressing each without compromising the
others.†There were always enough John Kennedys to be so many things
to so many different people. There were enough of them to keep his
options open---in Cuba and in bed, in Vietnam and in Palm Springs.
There were enough of them, always, so some of them were sure to get in
the way.â€
At its beginning, there in Los Angeles, this new frontier was supposed
to be cool and ironic, technocratic and rational, settled by scientists
and thinkers and theoreticians. But frontiers are wild and uncivilized
places where people struggle to survive, where people die over private
grudges, where people, a lot of people, carry guns and feel the need to
use them. John Kennedy needed all the identities he̢۪d fashioned for
himself.
His White House---and the executive establishment that it purported to
lead---was a writhing ball of snakes. The issue of civil rights had
moved swiftly past the hope of any easy compromise. Elsewhere, there
were off-the-books attempts to kill Fidel Castro, covert wranglings
(among other places) Iraqâ€Â¦ A rat’s nest was growing in Southeast
Asia to which there seemed no solution. The Joint Chiefs were barely
under control, and the various intelligence agencies vanished into the
dark-blue evening distance of the frontier that John Kennedy had
decalred could be found the nation̢۪s best new hope, paying any price
and bearing any burden, from the Bay of Pigs to the Mekong Delta.
In 1960, John Kennedy got up in Los Angeles and promised to make all
things new. In his murder three years later, he managed that trick for
ages.â€
Pierce goes on to chat about how suspicious Kennedy̢۪s assassination
was. I̢۪ll grant him, it was suspicious. I don̢۪t buy the Warren
Commission̢۪s findings more than anyone else does, but Pierce makes
the argument that since Kennedy lived in the plural, died in the
plural, we are now stuck in the plural.
“John Kennedy lived plural lives. Nobody—no sad, pathetic he; no
dark, conniving they---could have possibly killed them all.â€
“â€You see the creation of an iconic figure,†says Robert
Dallek, the historian who spent five years poring over documents in the
library to produce the most recent biography of Kennedy. “On the fact
of it, it seems overstated for the sixth-shortest presidency in
history. But you can see him learning. He was the first one to do live
TV press conferences, and what came out of those was the power of his
personality, his wit, his youth. He realized he could use TV to create
an image of himselfâ€Â¦Ã¢€
Not that any of this necessarily began with Kennedy. The political
utility of self-mythology was familiar to both Abraham Lincoln and
George Washington, and to Julius Caesar, for all that. But Kennedy
attached his candidacy to the emerging information media of the time
and to the emerging science of public opinion as surely as he attached
the rhetoric of the New Frontier to the exploding space-age
technologies, and he did it so well that his mythology still dwarfs
that of any other candidate who has come before or after him.â€
Groovy. It̢۪s clear now: the reason I have to listen to Howard Dean
shove as many sound-bites as he possibly can into a two-minute
interview on CNN is because JFK changed the political landscape. Gee,
thanks.
The plural lives John Kennedy lived are not something to be celebrated,
no matter what Mr. Pierce would have us believe. He asserts this is the
reason why no other president following his hero̢۪s reign will ever
have the lasting legacy of JFK. “---Jimmy Carter’s church bells, Ronald Reagan’s little
parables, George H.W. Bush̢۪s points of light, Bill Clinton̢۪s place
called Hope, and a lot of the way that young George Bush attempted to
reconstruct the word after the towers fell. But none of them lasted,
not the way JFK has, and not because he died, either. He lasted because
he touched off the awesome forces of desire within the evolving human
heart of his times, before the heart itself knew they were even there,
before it had evolved enough to guard against them, before it had
hardened itself---as it has today, God knows---to see them coming.
Every political campaign since that one, including the one just
gathering steam, is nothing more than an aftershock.â€
Gag. Sullivan should issue a Poseur Alert for that one. Why Pierce
thinks JFK̢۪s many lives should be celebrated is obvious: he̢۪s
enamored of the man. But it̢۪s specious critical thinking, if, in
fact, any critical thinking was used in the writing of this piece,
which I suspect it wasn̢۪t. JFK was a skilled politician, not a
leader.
The idea of plural lives in a politician is not something to be
admired. It̢۪s something to be abhorred. It̢۪s the antithesis of
leadership. If you are going to be many things to many different
people, how can you possibly know who you are and what
you are made of if you̢۪re never called on to be consistent? A leader
may not always be consistent, it̢۪s true, but being a leader means
explaining why you̢۪re not being consistent if you can̢۪t be. The
hand of fate interceded and Kennedy was never placed in such a position
where he had to defend himself on his inconsistent life. If you can be
many things to many people, how can you lead the masses if, by taking
such a position, you refuse to acknowledge that there are masses, but
many groups of special interests that need to be pandered to for votes
instead? Pierce has it wrong. JFK was a skilled politician; not the
be-all-end-all leader of our times. There̢۪s a difference. Everyone
who has been elected to the Oval Office since his term has been
criticized for not being as skilled as JFK, for not being as personable
as JFKâ€Â¦the list goes on and on. Well, I don’t see any of those as
slams. I see them as a compliment. When did a lack of artifice become a
bad thing? A sign that the person who lacks the artifice is not someone
we want to lead us? Because, you know, JFK was all about artifice.
Pierce says so. Let̢۪s be honest. The plural lives of JFK that Pierce
celebrates are also the nasty parts of JFK. The ones only a select few
knew about when he was alive. But since Pierce celebrates them, I want
to know why they show JFK was a good man, a good president and a good
leader. Being successfully covert about the fucking of a movie star
means what, precisely? That he̢۪ll was able to keep his trap shut when
National Security secrets were involved? Lying to Americans about the
extent of his health problems was a good thing? Why? Because the
stupid, prejudiced American public would have discriminated against him
because of it? Having Sam Giancana to pull votes for him means JFK had
a good, insider idea of organized crime and his ideas on how to best
deal with it were based in reality? I don̢۪t think so. It means the
man was a lying bastard who would do anything to obtain the presidency,
because he didn̢۪t want to lead; he wanted to hold the office. ---
Chuckle of the Day. Ouch.
Why does it seem all the idiots live in Germany nowadays? Better
question would be what the hell did they need a chainsaw for? Wasn̢۪t
Wusthof-Trident German enough for them? You can slice your finger off
quicker with one of those knives and unlike with a chainsaw, you
wouldn̢۪t feel it.
I̢۪m tempted to give him points for just wanting to skip through all the bullshit.
Naaaaaah
As far as Operation: Libermania,
wellâ€Â¦massive sigh.
I used to live in one of those early states. And I all I can say is I
offer my full-fledged sympathies for all the regular stiffs who live in
either New Hampshire or Iowa. I recommend getting a Rottweiler and
caller-id if you don̢۪t want the campaigns to contact you.
Contrary to what the media would have you believe, the normal joe in
either state wants nothing to do with all of the political b.s. that
drops in on their doorstep, like manna from hell, every four years.
It̢۪s a boost to the economy, that̢۪s true: an old server friend of
mine made three hundred bucks in tips from Tom Brokaw one night before
the caucuses. He paid her rent that month. It̢۪s also interesting to
watch, honestly, because all of these people you know aren̢۪t
political the other 364 days out of the year suddenly turn into
analysts of the first order and you get a really
good idea of which farmers to pay attention to. But you really don̢۪t
want to be a registered voter in either place because when a
candidate̢۪s campaign calls your house six times within a forty-eight
hour period before the caucuses, reminding you to make sure you go and support our candidate
it gets a wee bit annoying. And that̢۪s just one candidate. We̢۪re
not talking about the other nine who might be on the ballot who want
your vote just as much as the other guy does.
Before the 1996 caucuses, I actually had to disconnect my phone because
Bob Dole̢۪s campaign wouldn̢۪t stop calling. They had some database
problems, obviously. One person would call, then a half hour later,
another would call, you̢۪d tell them they were annoying you, they̢۪d
apologize and then a day later, you’d get another callâ€Â¦then
another, and so on and so forth. Say nothing of Lamar Alexander̢۪s
campaign, or Pat Buchanan̢۪s or any of the other nimrods who were in
the running.
Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, trashed the t-shirt and am
now using it to clean the bottom of the toilet. --- Halle-freakin̢۪-lujah!
But did he get the ring back?
--- This is curious.
So, they won̢۪t rush into a burning girls̢۪ school because they̢۪re
worried about modesty issues, but they̢۪ll rescue prisoners? That̢۪s so nice.
@##%$%$#@$^%^*(&â€Â¦!
---Hey, I watched Contact.
I remember that the first televised broadcast shot out into space was
Hitler at the 1936 Olympics. Maybe this is just the aliens answering
back? {Insert Twlight Zone music here}
--- Was at the drugstore the other day and wound up buying the 70th
Anniversary issue of Esquire.
Yes, I know: it̢۪s a men̢۪s magazine. So? I like it because it
confirms all those ideas I have about how men̢۪s brains aren̢۪t in
their heads, but instead reside in their crotches. It̢۪s always nice
to be right, after all. So, I̢۪m flipping through it and am somewhat
annoyed by all their nasty Bush comments, yet am impressed by Gay
Talese̢۪s portrait of Frank Sinatra, which was picked by the editors
as the best feature ever published in Esquire,
and despite Talese̢۪s annoying use of the term Negroes, I find myself
agreeing with them. I also liked their “Best Seventy Sentencesâ€
ever feature. I sighed and skipped the obligatory tribute to Muhammed
Ali (honestly, who gives a crap about boxing? Ugh.) Then we got down to
who they considered to be “The Man of the Last Seventy Years.†And
who should it be but JFK
Ok, skip right over Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Gordon Moore, Watson and
Crick, Ronald Reagan, Jack Kirby, Winston Churchill, FDR, Charles De
Gaulle, Richard Feynman, Stephen Hawking, just to name a few, and go
with the mushy, feel-good, boomer-idolizing President who squeaked into
office with fewer votes than the current occupant of the Oval Office
(Cook County Morgue, anyone?) and say that he̢۪s
the most important man of the last seventy years? Whatever. I am so
fucking sick of Kennedys. Their whole golden-dynasty,
don̢۪t-you-wish-you-were-one-of-us?, Camelot myth/PR campaign has
completely backfired on me. The media laps it up, though, and so we are
subjected to more and more books about the affairs JFK had, how ill he
was, how classy Jackie was (and she was classy, I̢۪m not denying
that), how JFK Jr. was being smacked around by his perfect blonde wife,
ad nauseum, ad infinitum. I am sick of the Kennedys.
Gag-me-with-a-spoon sick. If I have to listen to one more friggin̢۪
minute of Michael Skakel̢۪s (the Kennedy cousin) garbage on CNN,
I̢۪ll puke. But this article was beyond the pale. Despite the fact
it̢۪s Oliver Stone-y in its tone (ya know, it was the
military-industrial complex who brought this fine specimen of a man
down because he wanted to pull out of Vietnam and they killed him
before he could do soâ€Â¦the Mr. X speech delivered so convincingly by
Donald Sutherland in the movie), it̢۪s complete and utter fluff. I̢۪m
not going to touch that because it would be too easy. However, the man
who wrote it, Charles P. Pierce, claimed in his little “about the
contributors†spiel that “â€Â¦we
thought that this is the most important guy in the history of our
magazine because of the way he changed almost everything---not only how
politicians act, but how we look at how they act.†Thanks, Mr.
Pierce! I thought it was enough to pin JFK̢۪s ass to the wall over the
landmine-ridden relations with Cuba and Cuban-Americans we now endure
because he didn̢۪t provide air support at the Bay of Pigs. Now I
realize I can blame the sleazy fiasco American politics has become on
the martyr who was the most celebrated, most fawned over, most admired
President of the past forty years. JFK. I so appreciate it.
“In his study of the Kennedy presidency, author Richard Reeves
quotes Kennedy himself as a center of a spoked wheel and, in doing so,
inadvertently posing a insoluble riddle to what would become, after his
death, a nation of his biographers. By the time he got to Dallas, John
Kennedy had grown comfortable with living in the plural.
“It was instinctive,†Kennedy said. “I had different identities,
and this was a useful way of expressing each without compromising the
others.†There were always enough John Kennedys to be so many things
to so many different people. There were enough of them to keep his
options open---in Cuba and in bed, in Vietnam and in Palm Springs.
There were enough of them, always, so some of them were sure to get in
the way.â€
At its beginning, there in Los Angeles, this new frontier was supposed
to be cool and ironic, technocratic and rational, settled by scientists
and thinkers and theoreticians. But frontiers are wild and uncivilized
places where people struggle to survive, where people die over private
grudges, where people, a lot of people, carry guns and feel the need to
use them. John Kennedy needed all the identities he̢۪d fashioned for
himself.
His White House---and the executive establishment that it purported to
lead---was a writhing ball of snakes. The issue of civil rights had
moved swiftly past the hope of any easy compromise. Elsewhere, there
were off-the-books attempts to kill Fidel Castro, covert wranglings
(among other places) Iraqâ€Â¦ A rat’s nest was growing in Southeast
Asia to which there seemed no solution. The Joint Chiefs were barely
under control, and the various intelligence agencies vanished into the
dark-blue evening distance of the frontier that John Kennedy had
decalred could be found the nation̢۪s best new hope, paying any price
and bearing any burden, from the Bay of Pigs to the Mekong Delta.
In 1960, John Kennedy got up in Los Angeles and promised to make all
things new. In his murder three years later, he managed that trick for
ages.â€
Pierce goes on to chat about how suspicious Kennedy̢۪s assassination
was. I̢۪ll grant him, it was suspicious. I don̢۪t buy the Warren
Commission̢۪s findings more than anyone else does, but Pierce makes
the argument that since Kennedy lived in the plural, died in the
plural, we are now stuck in the plural.
“John Kennedy lived plural lives. Nobody—no sad, pathetic he; no
dark, conniving they---could have possibly killed them all.â€
“â€You see the creation of an iconic figure,†says Robert
Dallek, the historian who spent five years poring over documents in the
library to produce the most recent biography of Kennedy. “On the fact
of it, it seems overstated for the sixth-shortest presidency in
history. But you can see him learning. He was the first one to do live
TV press conferences, and what came out of those was the power of his
personality, his wit, his youth. He realized he could use TV to create
an image of himselfâ€Â¦Ã¢€
Not that any of this necessarily began with Kennedy. The political
utility of self-mythology was familiar to both Abraham Lincoln and
George Washington, and to Julius Caesar, for all that. But Kennedy
attached his candidacy to the emerging information media of the time
and to the emerging science of public opinion as surely as he attached
the rhetoric of the New Frontier to the exploding space-age
technologies, and he did it so well that his mythology still dwarfs
that of any other candidate who has come before or after him.â€
Groovy. It̢۪s clear now: the reason I have to listen to Howard Dean
shove as many sound-bites as he possibly can into a two-minute
interview on CNN is because JFK changed the political landscape. Gee,
thanks.
The plural lives John Kennedy lived are not something to be celebrated,
no matter what Mr. Pierce would have us believe. He asserts this is the
reason why no other president following his hero̢۪s reign will ever
have the lasting legacy of JFK. “---Jimmy Carter’s church bells, Ronald Reagan’s little
parables, George H.W. Bush̢۪s points of light, Bill Clinton̢۪s place
called Hope, and a lot of the way that young George Bush attempted to
reconstruct the word after the towers fell. But none of them lasted,
not the way JFK has, and not because he died, either. He lasted because
he touched off the awesome forces of desire within the evolving human
heart of his times, before the heart itself knew they were even there,
before it had evolved enough to guard against them, before it had
hardened itself---as it has today, God knows---to see them coming.
Every political campaign since that one, including the one just
gathering steam, is nothing more than an aftershock.â€
Gag. Sullivan should issue a Poseur Alert for that one. Why Pierce
thinks JFK̢۪s many lives should be celebrated is obvious: he̢۪s
enamored of the man. But it̢۪s specious critical thinking, if, in
fact, any critical thinking was used in the writing of this piece,
which I suspect it wasn̢۪t. JFK was a skilled politician, not a
leader.
The idea of plural lives in a politician is not something to be
admired. It̢۪s something to be abhorred. It̢۪s the antithesis of
leadership. If you are going to be many things to many different
people, how can you possibly know who you are and what
you are made of if you̢۪re never called on to be consistent? A leader
may not always be consistent, it̢۪s true, but being a leader means
explaining why you̢۪re not being consistent if you can̢۪t be. The
hand of fate interceded and Kennedy was never placed in such a position
where he had to defend himself on his inconsistent life. If you can be
many things to many people, how can you lead the masses if, by taking
such a position, you refuse to acknowledge that there are masses, but
many groups of special interests that need to be pandered to for votes
instead? Pierce has it wrong. JFK was a skilled politician; not the
be-all-end-all leader of our times. There̢۪s a difference. Everyone
who has been elected to the Oval Office since his term has been
criticized for not being as skilled as JFK, for not being as personable
as JFKâ€Â¦the list goes on and on. Well, I don’t see any of those as
slams. I see them as a compliment. When did a lack of artifice become a
bad thing? A sign that the person who lacks the artifice is not someone
we want to lead us? Because, you know, JFK was all about artifice.
Pierce says so. Let̢۪s be honest. The plural lives of JFK that Pierce
celebrates are also the nasty parts of JFK. The ones only a select few
knew about when he was alive. But since Pierce celebrates them, I want
to know why they show JFK was a good man, a good president and a good
leader. Being successfully covert about the fucking of a movie star
means what, precisely? That he̢۪ll was able to keep his trap shut when
National Security secrets were involved? Lying to Americans about the
extent of his health problems was a good thing? Why? Because the
stupid, prejudiced American public would have discriminated against him
because of it? Having Sam Giancana to pull votes for him means JFK had
a good, insider idea of organized crime and his ideas on how to best
deal with it were based in reality? I don̢۪t think so. It means the
man was a lying bastard who would do anything to obtain the presidency,
because he didn̢۪t want to lead; he wanted to hold the office. ---
Chuckle of the Day. Ouch.
Why does it seem all the idiots live in Germany nowadays? Better
question would be what the hell did they need a chainsaw for? Wasn̢۪t
Wusthof-Trident German enough for them? You can slice your finger off
quicker with one of those knives and unlike with a chainsaw, you
wouldn̢۪t feel it.
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--- Ever notice that in
--- Ever notice that in some American families there is generally a
stated preference for certain branches of the Armed Services? A brother
or a father, or even a mother or a sister (We mustn̢۪t be sexist) was
Navy, and goshdarnit, they̢۪ll support the Navy until they die.
It̢۪s like college rivalries and my family and the husband̢۪s are no
different in this respect. The husband̢۪s uncle was a very successful
Master Sergeant in the Marines, so he̢۪s a big supporter of the
Marines. My family is spread out between Army and the Navy, but the
Army holds a wee bit more sway with my side because of my cousin, who
is career. But, on the whole, everyone supports all of the armed
services, only allowing their preferences for a particular branch of
the service to show when that branch has done an exceedingly good job.
This would be that time for me. GO ARMY!
Someone did their homework on this one and---AHEM---it̢۪s working.
--- Johnny Depp Revisited.
Had an interesting email this morning from Mr. H. about the whole Johnny Depp thing this morning. And I quote:
“Johnny Depp was all over the news yesterday with his "puppy"
commentsâ€Â¦He wants to be "Dixie Chicked"! My hope is that it works for
him, like it did them,{they}sold more, and {it}gave them a hell of a
lot of attention!...I just wish Johnny would have come up with a little
bit more intellectual statement, {than} a "dumb puppy"?â€
And I would have to agree with Mr. H. Johnny Depp does want to be
“Dixie Chicked.†And that’s fine by me. If it sells more tickets
to his movies in Europe, or here, that̢۪s great. That̢۪s just plain
good ol̢۪ fashioned capitalism and who could deny him the right to make as much money as he can? I can̢۪t. Good for him. And I really mean that.
What I object to, however, is the notion that he assumes we̢۪re going to play the same xenophobic tune that was whipped out of the record collection when the Dixie Chicks said their piece.
In fact, he seems to be counting
on it. In my opinion, Mr. Depp seems to think that it's ok to use us,
meaning Americans, for his own gain with impunity. He'll take all the
money we pay into his coffers to see him perform, and yet when he tries
to promote his work to a whole different audience, in this case, the
Germans, he plays up to them by saying, well, I may be American, but I
don't like what's going on there and the people there are stupid and I
don't want any part of their culture. Blah, blah, blah.
I couldn't care less about his political views, it's just that he seems
to lump all Americans into the dolt department when it's beneficial to
his interests. It̢۪s fairly obvious that his American citizenship is
something to be slipped on and off, like a coat, when it̢۪s in his
interest to do so. That̢۪s his right, and no matter how much it
bothers me that he considers his United States citizenship to be an
on-the-job liability, he̢۪s allowed. He̢۪s an American. We̢۪re allowed to do stuff like that! Ben Franklin said so, damnit.
He doesn̢۪t stop there, though. He chooses to add insult to injury, by
just assuming that I, as an American, am too stupid to realize that I'm
being played. He implied that Americans are idiots, so the logic
follows that I, as an American, am only going to notice the insult
because I'm too unintelligent to realize it̢۪s actually a media ploy.
His statements on politics prove my point, because he hasn't changed
his tune too dramatically from when he promoted Pirates
earlier this summer in the American media. It̢۪s the wording and tone
that are different and obviously intended to play to specific parts of
his audience.
I generally don̢۪t bother much with celebrity interviews anymore, but
I did happen to read this one and it̢۪s telling, if nothing else.
Let̢۪s do some compare and contrast, shall we?
From the USA Weekend article: He
rejects the view that there has been a surge of anti-Americanism there
because of opposition to the U.S.-led war in Iraq, and he believes the
French people have behaved in a dignified manner while some Americans
have resorted to "schoolyard tactics" by renaming French fries "freedom
fries." "That was so revealing, that grown men sat around and came up
with that idea," he says of the freedom fries initiative. "It was
tragic and embarrassing. At the same time, I was happy it was exposed,
and people knew that a bunch of congressmen -- big people, the
upper-drawer people -- made that decision."
From the article I linked to yesterday:
“Depp recalled that French fries were renamed ``Freedom'' fries in
the House cafeteria on Capitol Hill at the height of U.S. anger over
France's refusal to back the administration of President George W. Bush
over the war in Iraq. ``Nothing made me happier than when I read that -
grown men and grown women in positions of power in the United States
government,'' Depp said. ``I was ecstatic because they revealed
themselves as idiots.''
So, in one interview, aimed toward an American audience, the whole
Freedom Fries debacle was “tragic and embarrassing†and he was
“happy it was exposed.†In the other article, aimed toward Germans,
he’s “ecstatic because they revealed themselves as idiots.â€
Let̢۪s do another one just for the fun of it.
USA Weekend: “"I love America -- I love going back, seeing my
family and friends -- but it's wonderful to get back to France and be
living in a tiny village with nothing around.â€
From the link: “â€Â¦told
the German magazine he couldn't see himself paying more than short
visits to his Los Angeles residence in the present political
climate.†and we also have : “Depp said he wanted his two
children, ages 1 and 4, to experience the United States ``like it's a
kind a toy - a broken toy maybe. Investigate a little bit, check it
out, get this feeling and then get out.''â€
His citizenship is like a coat to him. He thinks he can slip it on and
off when he needs to. Then he goes on to assume that I̢۪m just simply
too unintelligent to realize he's playing one side off the other and
hoping to benefit from the resulting melee.
Mr. H. is right. He does want to be 'Dixie Chicked.' And to be honest,
it̢۪s frickin̢۪ ridiculous. I̢۪m giving the whole thing way too much
attention by even writing about it. This story just deserves to die,
but I don̢۪t think it̢۪s going to, because some American governmental
personality is going to try and score cheap points off this whole mess,
in essence, proving Johnny correct. Don't do it, please. Step away from
the mike! I beg you! --- Chuckle for the Day
Shake it, Grandma!
stated preference for certain branches of the Armed Services? A brother
or a father, or even a mother or a sister (We mustn̢۪t be sexist) was
Navy, and goshdarnit, they̢۪ll support the Navy until they die.
It̢۪s like college rivalries and my family and the husband̢۪s are no
different in this respect. The husband̢۪s uncle was a very successful
Master Sergeant in the Marines, so he̢۪s a big supporter of the
Marines. My family is spread out between Army and the Navy, but the
Army holds a wee bit more sway with my side because of my cousin, who
is career. But, on the whole, everyone supports all of the armed
services, only allowing their preferences for a particular branch of
the service to show when that branch has done an exceedingly good job.
This would be that time for me. GO ARMY!
Someone did their homework on this one and---AHEM---it̢۪s working.
--- Johnny Depp Revisited.
Had an interesting email this morning from Mr. H. about the whole Johnny Depp thing this morning. And I quote:
“Johnny Depp was all over the news yesterday with his "puppy"
commentsâ€Â¦He wants to be "Dixie Chicked"! My hope is that it works for
him, like it did them,{they}sold more, and {it}gave them a hell of a
lot of attention!...I just wish Johnny would have come up with a little
bit more intellectual statement, {than} a "dumb puppy"?â€
And I would have to agree with Mr. H. Johnny Depp does want to be
“Dixie Chicked.†And that’s fine by me. If it sells more tickets
to his movies in Europe, or here, that̢۪s great. That̢۪s just plain
good ol̢۪ fashioned capitalism and who could deny him the right to make as much money as he can? I can̢۪t. Good for him. And I really mean that.
What I object to, however, is the notion that he assumes we̢۪re going to play the same xenophobic tune that was whipped out of the record collection when the Dixie Chicks said their piece.
In fact, he seems to be counting
on it. In my opinion, Mr. Depp seems to think that it's ok to use us,
meaning Americans, for his own gain with impunity. He'll take all the
money we pay into his coffers to see him perform, and yet when he tries
to promote his work to a whole different audience, in this case, the
Germans, he plays up to them by saying, well, I may be American, but I
don't like what's going on there and the people there are stupid and I
don't want any part of their culture. Blah, blah, blah.
I couldn't care less about his political views, it's just that he seems
to lump all Americans into the dolt department when it's beneficial to
his interests. It̢۪s fairly obvious that his American citizenship is
something to be slipped on and off, like a coat, when it̢۪s in his
interest to do so. That̢۪s his right, and no matter how much it
bothers me that he considers his United States citizenship to be an
on-the-job liability, he̢۪s allowed. He̢۪s an American. We̢۪re allowed to do stuff like that! Ben Franklin said so, damnit.
He doesn̢۪t stop there, though. He chooses to add insult to injury, by
just assuming that I, as an American, am too stupid to realize that I'm
being played. He implied that Americans are idiots, so the logic
follows that I, as an American, am only going to notice the insult
because I'm too unintelligent to realize it̢۪s actually a media ploy.
His statements on politics prove my point, because he hasn't changed
his tune too dramatically from when he promoted Pirates
earlier this summer in the American media. It̢۪s the wording and tone
that are different and obviously intended to play to specific parts of
his audience.
I generally don̢۪t bother much with celebrity interviews anymore, but
I did happen to read this one and it̢۪s telling, if nothing else.
Let̢۪s do some compare and contrast, shall we?
From the USA Weekend article: He
rejects the view that there has been a surge of anti-Americanism there
because of opposition to the U.S.-led war in Iraq, and he believes the
French people have behaved in a dignified manner while some Americans
have resorted to "schoolyard tactics" by renaming French fries "freedom
fries." "That was so revealing, that grown men sat around and came up
with that idea," he says of the freedom fries initiative. "It was
tragic and embarrassing. At the same time, I was happy it was exposed,
and people knew that a bunch of congressmen -- big people, the
upper-drawer people -- made that decision."
From the article I linked to yesterday:
“Depp recalled that French fries were renamed ``Freedom'' fries in
the House cafeteria on Capitol Hill at the height of U.S. anger over
France's refusal to back the administration of President George W. Bush
over the war in Iraq. ``Nothing made me happier than when I read that -
grown men and grown women in positions of power in the United States
government,'' Depp said. ``I was ecstatic because they revealed
themselves as idiots.''
So, in one interview, aimed toward an American audience, the whole
Freedom Fries debacle was “tragic and embarrassing†and he was
“happy it was exposed.†In the other article, aimed toward Germans,
he’s “ecstatic because they revealed themselves as idiots.â€
Let̢۪s do another one just for the fun of it.
USA Weekend: “"I love America -- I love going back, seeing my
family and friends -- but it's wonderful to get back to France and be
living in a tiny village with nothing around.â€
From the link: “â€Â¦told
the German magazine he couldn't see himself paying more than short
visits to his Los Angeles residence in the present political
climate.†and we also have : “Depp said he wanted his two
children, ages 1 and 4, to experience the United States ``like it's a
kind a toy - a broken toy maybe. Investigate a little bit, check it
out, get this feeling and then get out.''â€
His citizenship is like a coat to him. He thinks he can slip it on and
off when he needs to. Then he goes on to assume that I̢۪m just simply
too unintelligent to realize he's playing one side off the other and
hoping to benefit from the resulting melee.
Mr. H. is right. He does want to be 'Dixie Chicked.' And to be honest,
it̢۪s frickin̢۪ ridiculous. I̢۪m giving the whole thing way too much
attention by even writing about it. This story just deserves to die,
but I don̢۪t think it̢۪s going to, because some American governmental
personality is going to try and score cheap points off this whole mess,
in essence, proving Johnny correct. Don't do it, please. Step away from
the mike! I beg you! --- Chuckle for the Day
Shake it, Grandma!
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--- I hate to say
--- I hate to say it, but John Paul II had better bite the big one soon
or the Roman Catholic Church is going to completely fall apart. No Altar Girls, eh?
No applause during mass? (Actually, that̢۪s one I can get behind) No
dancing? (I don̢۪t mind that one either, but who am I to say a
Catholic in Africa can̢۪t be filled with the Holy Spirit and
spontaneously start dancing to celebrate?) What are they going to
outlaw next? Speaking in tongues? Turning water into wine? Oh, whoops.
They allegedly don̢۪t want the average Catholic to take the Blood of
Christ at communion already. Before you know it women will be back to
wearing little scraps of lace over their head to prevent the unseemly
lust in male congregants St. Paul (sexist bastard---saint or not)
thought needed to be guarded against. We might even start having Mass
in Latin again! Woohoo! I know that excites my faith beyond belief. I
think we̢۪re really beginning to see the Curia and the Conservative
movement within the Vatican start taking advantage of the Pope̢۪s
ailing health. Put simply: it̢۪s a coup d̢۪etat. And these arepriests, folks. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy toward the rulers of the Church, doesn̢۪t it? I know it does it for me. Mmmmhmmm!
You̢۪d think the Medicis and Borgias were still around if you didn̢۪t
know better. John Paul has been pope for most of my lifetime. I
remember the first John Paul̢۪s short tenure, vaguely. I remember
watching the TV on a sunny, fall Saturday morning (they̢۪d interrupted
my Looney Toons) as white smoke rose from the Sistine Chapel̢۪s
chimneys. I remember my father saying we needed to say a prayer of
thanks that they̢۪d found another pope and that we needed to pray for
his successful leadership of the Church. I remember my
one-generation-removed-from-the-boat Polish father being delighted that
they̢۪d chosen a Polish
pope. I remember, a few years later, when the principal of my Catholic
grade school came over the loudspeaker instructing us all to pray as
the Pope had been shot and they didn̢۪t know if he was going to live.
He lived, but I think he was shaken a wee bit too much to go forth and
do something with his papacy, and that̢۪s only if you assume he wanted
to do something with his papacy in the first place, which, depending
upon whom you talk to, might or might not have been the case. On the
whole, I think he̢۪s been a decent pope. Not great and not radical,
but not evil, either. While he hasn̢۪t really done all that much to
bring the Church into the 21st century, and has avoided many of the
same problems that many popes before him avoided, he also did help to
bring down Communism, which earns him points in my book. On the whole,
he̢۪s been a caretaker pope: he̢۪s kept everything pretty much the
same as it was in 1978, when he was elected. The church is stuck in a
time warp; it̢۪s still 1978 as far as the Pope is concerned. He
hasn̢۪t been groundbreaking, but neither has he been completely
reactionary, as some would have you believe. If you have a passing
familiarity with the Polish Church, you̢۪ll know what I̢۪m talking
about: they get the most piety points of any nationality. The Irish and
Italians don̢۪t have anything on the Poles in this regard. John Paul
II---caretaker pope, and if you look at his record as a whole, rather
than just at certain points of contention, it̢۪s easy to see this.
That̢۪s why these distinct moves to the right we keep seeing make it
so easy to discern that something̢۪s not quite right over at Peter̢۪s
crib. John Paul II, yes, gives frequent reminder homilies about Church
policies, but he hasn̢۪t ever really made any radical policy changes.
Everything̢۪s still pretty much the same as it was back when he was
elected. But just in the past year you have Cardinal Ratzinger, the
head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (that charming
institution within the Church that used to be called the Congregation
for the Sacred Inquisitionâ€Â¦talk about spin, eh?) issuing a teaching
instructing bishops worldwide to tell politicians who declare
themselves pro-choice to stop calling themselves Catholics. No similar
decree was simultaneously issued instructing bishops about pro-death
penalty politicians, despite what John Paul II has said about the
horrors of the death penalty. The gay marriage debate heats up this
summer and the Vatican comes out in full---vehement---force about how wrong the idea of gay marriage is, when the Pope, while obviously not for it, has never said anything but love the sinner, but hate the sin;
and there are several homilies delivered by a visibly weakened Pope at
how horrid this idea is. Now we have the no altar girls, no dancing, no
applause during mass, no Blood of Christ delivered to congregants at
Mass. These things are just enough in line with what the pope
has said in the past, but are also just incongruous enough with the
entire papacy of John Paul II to make a Catholic wonder precisely
who is pulling the strings in the Vatican, because it̢۪s certainly not
the Pope. I think the critical mass of the pedophilia scandal took it
out of the guy. He just doesn̢۪t have the strength to keep up with all
of the pressures—internal and external---anymore. A friend of mine is
a neuropsychologist. What precisely that job description entails, I
don̢۪t really know---it̢۪s got something to do with how the brain
works, I know that much and I also know she deals with the therapy of a
lot of Alzheimer̢۪s patients, but the specifics are beyond me. She has
a PhD---she̢۪s smarter than I am. She also happens to be Catholic. She
has said that John Paul̢۪s Parkinson̢۪s, to her trained eye, appears
to be so advanced she doesn̢۪t believe he has the full control of his
faculties anymore. I have to agree and the evidence at hand seems to
back up this conclusion. As much as I don̢۪t think John Paul II needs
to be made a martyr, I think it would be best for everyone involved if
he just fell on his holy sword sooner rather than later. Obligatory
moment of Catholic co-dependency and guilt: It̢۪s official: I̢۪m now
going to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars---go
straight toward the flames and roast in them.
---Oh, my. It̢۪s a sad day. The Big Guy has passed away.
--- Hypocrisy alert
So, Ben Affleck campaigns for Gore in 2000---who was part of an
administration who pretty much tried to outlaw guns altogether---and
yet, it̢۪s all right for Ben to go out and get a gun permit? Hmmm. To
be fair, I did some research and I could find nothing that said he held
the same position as say, Rosie O̢۪Donnell, on this issue, but I did
find this.
He admits he wants stronger gun control, although he wonders at the
intelligence of such an action because he doesn̢۪t know if it will
solve anything. But it̢۪s pretty obvious that he doesn̢۪t think heshould be
part of that group that needs to be watched, eh? I̢۪m going to make a
leap here and say he wants to have one, but he probably doesn̢۪t think
you̢۪re stable enough to deserve a permit.
Especially not if you voted for Bush in 2000.
But---somehow---playing house with JLo means he̢۪s stable.
How? Precisely.
--- Proof That Cats Are Evil!
The husband, who is deathly allergic to the wee beasts, will soon be
jumping up and down for joy at having his suspicions about the alleged
evilness of cats confirmed. --- Ok, here̢۪s a bone
from me to make you feel better about yourself. At least you have a
life (probably not much of one if you̢۪re reading this in the first
place, eh?). Apparently, this guy does not have one and if he keeps going down this road it̢۪s likely he will never have one.
--- I forgot to mention yesterday that the Cake Eater City workers did not
show up over the weekend to finish paving. Hence, yesterday, I finally
caved and cleaned the Cake Eater Apartment. Sigh.
I just couldn̢۪t take it anymore. Five hours of effort and a
thrown-out-back later, the dustbunnies have been shoved back into their
refugee camp underneath the bed and the apartment is gorgeous. The
apartment has the interesting and fragrant mix of Clorox Clean-Up, Zep
window cleaner and Scott̢۪s Liquid Gold perfuming it. I also called
the Cake Eater City Public Works department to ask them when, if ever,
they were going to finish up with the paving. The lady sounded
surprised that the second layer hadn̢۪t been put down, but that she
would have one of the supervisors call me back because they were all out working.
Hmmph.
They still haven̢۪t shown up.
or the Roman Catholic Church is going to completely fall apart. No Altar Girls, eh?
No applause during mass? (Actually, that̢۪s one I can get behind) No
dancing? (I don̢۪t mind that one either, but who am I to say a
Catholic in Africa can̢۪t be filled with the Holy Spirit and
spontaneously start dancing to celebrate?) What are they going to
outlaw next? Speaking in tongues? Turning water into wine? Oh, whoops.
They allegedly don̢۪t want the average Catholic to take the Blood of
Christ at communion already. Before you know it women will be back to
wearing little scraps of lace over their head to prevent the unseemly
lust in male congregants St. Paul (sexist bastard---saint or not)
thought needed to be guarded against. We might even start having Mass
in Latin again! Woohoo! I know that excites my faith beyond belief. I
think we̢۪re really beginning to see the Curia and the Conservative
movement within the Vatican start taking advantage of the Pope̢۪s
ailing health. Put simply: it̢۪s a coup d̢۪etat. And these arepriests, folks. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy toward the rulers of the Church, doesn̢۪t it? I know it does it for me. Mmmmhmmm!
You̢۪d think the Medicis and Borgias were still around if you didn̢۪t
know better. John Paul has been pope for most of my lifetime. I
remember the first John Paul̢۪s short tenure, vaguely. I remember
watching the TV on a sunny, fall Saturday morning (they̢۪d interrupted
my Looney Toons) as white smoke rose from the Sistine Chapel̢۪s
chimneys. I remember my father saying we needed to say a prayer of
thanks that they̢۪d found another pope and that we needed to pray for
his successful leadership of the Church. I remember my
one-generation-removed-from-the-boat Polish father being delighted that
they̢۪d chosen a Polish
pope. I remember, a few years later, when the principal of my Catholic
grade school came over the loudspeaker instructing us all to pray as
the Pope had been shot and they didn̢۪t know if he was going to live.
He lived, but I think he was shaken a wee bit too much to go forth and
do something with his papacy, and that̢۪s only if you assume he wanted
to do something with his papacy in the first place, which, depending
upon whom you talk to, might or might not have been the case. On the
whole, I think he̢۪s been a decent pope. Not great and not radical,
but not evil, either. While he hasn̢۪t really done all that much to
bring the Church into the 21st century, and has avoided many of the
same problems that many popes before him avoided, he also did help to
bring down Communism, which earns him points in my book. On the whole,
he̢۪s been a caretaker pope: he̢۪s kept everything pretty much the
same as it was in 1978, when he was elected. The church is stuck in a
time warp; it̢۪s still 1978 as far as the Pope is concerned. He
hasn̢۪t been groundbreaking, but neither has he been completely
reactionary, as some would have you believe. If you have a passing
familiarity with the Polish Church, you̢۪ll know what I̢۪m talking
about: they get the most piety points of any nationality. The Irish and
Italians don̢۪t have anything on the Poles in this regard. John Paul
II---caretaker pope, and if you look at his record as a whole, rather
than just at certain points of contention, it̢۪s easy to see this.
That̢۪s why these distinct moves to the right we keep seeing make it
so easy to discern that something̢۪s not quite right over at Peter̢۪s
crib. John Paul II, yes, gives frequent reminder homilies about Church
policies, but he hasn̢۪t ever really made any radical policy changes.
Everything̢۪s still pretty much the same as it was back when he was
elected. But just in the past year you have Cardinal Ratzinger, the
head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (that charming
institution within the Church that used to be called the Congregation
for the Sacred Inquisitionâ€Â¦talk about spin, eh?) issuing a teaching
instructing bishops worldwide to tell politicians who declare
themselves pro-choice to stop calling themselves Catholics. No similar
decree was simultaneously issued instructing bishops about pro-death
penalty politicians, despite what John Paul II has said about the
horrors of the death penalty. The gay marriage debate heats up this
summer and the Vatican comes out in full---vehement---force about how wrong the idea of gay marriage is, when the Pope, while obviously not for it, has never said anything but love the sinner, but hate the sin;
and there are several homilies delivered by a visibly weakened Pope at
how horrid this idea is. Now we have the no altar girls, no dancing, no
applause during mass, no Blood of Christ delivered to congregants at
Mass. These things are just enough in line with what the pope
has said in the past, but are also just incongruous enough with the
entire papacy of John Paul II to make a Catholic wonder precisely
who is pulling the strings in the Vatican, because it̢۪s certainly not
the Pope. I think the critical mass of the pedophilia scandal took it
out of the guy. He just doesn̢۪t have the strength to keep up with all
of the pressures—internal and external---anymore. A friend of mine is
a neuropsychologist. What precisely that job description entails, I
don̢۪t really know---it̢۪s got something to do with how the brain
works, I know that much and I also know she deals with the therapy of a
lot of Alzheimer̢۪s patients, but the specifics are beyond me. She has
a PhD---she̢۪s smarter than I am. She also happens to be Catholic. She
has said that John Paul̢۪s Parkinson̢۪s, to her trained eye, appears
to be so advanced she doesn̢۪t believe he has the full control of his
faculties anymore. I have to agree and the evidence at hand seems to
back up this conclusion. As much as I don̢۪t think John Paul II needs
to be made a martyr, I think it would be best for everyone involved if
he just fell on his holy sword sooner rather than later. Obligatory
moment of Catholic co-dependency and guilt: It̢۪s official: I̢۪m now
going to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars---go
straight toward the flames and roast in them.
---Oh, my. It̢۪s a sad day. The Big Guy has passed away.
--- Hypocrisy alert
So, Ben Affleck campaigns for Gore in 2000---who was part of an
administration who pretty much tried to outlaw guns altogether---and
yet, it̢۪s all right for Ben to go out and get a gun permit? Hmmm. To
be fair, I did some research and I could find nothing that said he held
the same position as say, Rosie O̢۪Donnell, on this issue, but I did
find this.
He admits he wants stronger gun control, although he wonders at the
intelligence of such an action because he doesn̢۪t know if it will
solve anything. But it̢۪s pretty obvious that he doesn̢۪t think heshould be
part of that group that needs to be watched, eh? I̢۪m going to make a
leap here and say he wants to have one, but he probably doesn̢۪t think
you̢۪re stable enough to deserve a permit.
Especially not if you voted for Bush in 2000.
But---somehow---playing house with JLo means he̢۪s stable.
How? Precisely.
--- Proof That Cats Are Evil!
The husband, who is deathly allergic to the wee beasts, will soon be
jumping up and down for joy at having his suspicions about the alleged
evilness of cats confirmed. --- Ok, here̢۪s a bone
from me to make you feel better about yourself. At least you have a
life (probably not much of one if you̢۪re reading this in the first
place, eh?). Apparently, this guy does not have one and if he keeps going down this road it̢۪s likely he will never have one.
--- I forgot to mention yesterday that the Cake Eater City workers did not
show up over the weekend to finish paving. Hence, yesterday, I finally
caved and cleaned the Cake Eater Apartment. Sigh.
I just couldn̢۪t take it anymore. Five hours of effort and a
thrown-out-back later, the dustbunnies have been shoved back into their
refugee camp underneath the bed and the apartment is gorgeous. The
apartment has the interesting and fragrant mix of Clorox Clean-Up, Zep
window cleaner and Scott̢۪s Liquid Gold perfuming it. I also called
the Cake Eater City Public Works department to ask them when, if ever,
they were going to finish up with the paving. The lady sounded
surprised that the second layer hadn̢۪t been put down, but that she
would have one of the supervisors call me back because they were all out working.
Hmmph.
They still haven̢۪t shown up.
Posted by: Kathy at
03:32 PM
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Post contains 1510 words, total size 10 kb.
--- Ok, I̢۪m really going
--- Ok, I̢۪m really going to try and keep this short today. I̢۪m one
tired puppy. I̢۪ve been working on the post for tomorrow, laboring to
try and get it right and it, along with the manuscript, kept me up
until almost five this morning. I suppose we̢۪ll see if it̢۪s been
worth it tomorrow, won̢۪t we? You̢۪ll have to wait awhile for the
manuscript, though. Sorry. --- Quote of the Day: "Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb protesting the vote."
-- Benjamin Franklin
I knew there was a reason I liked that guy.
--- Funny gaming junk that will serve as the Chuckle of the Day.
The husband is a gamer. Yeah, I know. You feel my pain. Um, thanksâ€Â¦I
think. I̢۪m sure your eyebrows just went up and you said, oh,
in
a-I-just-sussed-one-of-the-reasons-why-they-don̢۪t-have-any-kids-yet
sort of way. Whatever. Our reproductive choices are none of your
business, but this being the free-thinking web, you̢۪re welcome to
speculate about me as much as you would like. Do your best imitation of
Freud and go for it. I couldn̢۪t care less. I have no idea who you
are; I̢۪m not liable to ever know and I like it like that.
Anyway, he̢۪s a big gamer, and as such, he goes to sites that I
wouldn̢۪t hit with a ten foot cattle prod. He forwards funny stuff
along and sometimes I get it, and sometimes I don̢۪t. This morning̢۪s
issue of Penny Arcade was just such an example of something I needed a tad more explanation on. So, go here and check out all the advertising. Then, realizing blatant commercialism doesn̢۪t sit well with most gamers, read this:
Heheheheh.
--- I was working for some time on a screed about the RIAA suing a
twelve-year-old girl, but quite bluntly, I need a nap more than you
need to read it. So, it̢۪s on the block for Friday. Maybe I̢۪ll post
it, maybe I won̢۪t. The suspense might just kill you.
I̢۪m going to post my 9/11 essay later tonight so I can submit it over
at A Small Victory̢۪s Voice̢۪s
page. Go there and check it out if you get the chance. I̢۪m going to
see if I can figure out how to post the neato linky artwork Michele
provided yesterday on here, but don̢۪t hold up high hopes.
tired puppy. I̢۪ve been working on the post for tomorrow, laboring to
try and get it right and it, along with the manuscript, kept me up
until almost five this morning. I suppose we̢۪ll see if it̢۪s been
worth it tomorrow, won̢۪t we? You̢۪ll have to wait awhile for the
manuscript, though. Sorry. --- Quote of the Day: "Democracy is two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch. Liberty is a well-armed lamb protesting the vote."
-- Benjamin Franklin
I knew there was a reason I liked that guy.
--- Funny gaming junk that will serve as the Chuckle of the Day.
The husband is a gamer. Yeah, I know. You feel my pain. Um, thanksâ€Â¦I
think. I̢۪m sure your eyebrows just went up and you said, oh,
in
a-I-just-sussed-one-of-the-reasons-why-they-don̢۪t-have-any-kids-yet
sort of way. Whatever. Our reproductive choices are none of your
business, but this being the free-thinking web, you̢۪re welcome to
speculate about me as much as you would like. Do your best imitation of
Freud and go for it. I couldn̢۪t care less. I have no idea who you
are; I̢۪m not liable to ever know and I like it like that.
Anyway, he̢۪s a big gamer, and as such, he goes to sites that I
wouldn̢۪t hit with a ten foot cattle prod. He forwards funny stuff
along and sometimes I get it, and sometimes I don̢۪t. This morning̢۪s
issue of Penny Arcade was just such an example of something I needed a tad more explanation on. So, go here and check out all the advertising. Then, realizing blatant commercialism doesn̢۪t sit well with most gamers, read this:
Heheheheh.
--- I was working for some time on a screed about the RIAA suing a
twelve-year-old girl, but quite bluntly, I need a nap more than you
need to read it. So, it̢۪s on the block for Friday. Maybe I̢۪ll post
it, maybe I won̢۪t. The suspense might just kill you.
I̢۪m going to post my 9/11 essay later tonight so I can submit it over
at A Small Victory̢۪s Voice̢۪s
page. Go there and check it out if you get the chance. I̢۪m going to
see if I can figure out how to post the neato linky artwork Michele
provided yesterday on here, but don̢۪t hold up high hopes.
Posted by: Kathy at
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Post contains 409 words, total size 3 kb.
--- Goddamn Needless-Markup to hell
--- Goddamn Needless-Markup to hell and back!
Stop sending me catalogs, would you? We is po̢۪. I cannot afford the stuff in these catalogs. You̢۪re killing trees needlessly.
But, oh yes, do I ever want the junk. Especially these. And these boots Prada---you know those jokesters in Milan---has titled the sport buckle bootie I could even probably make do with these despite the fact every practical bone in my body is screaming Nooooooooo,
don̢۪t do it! For the love of all that is good and holy reject your
preppy instincts! Throw your tattered Preppy Handbook down and then
burn the effing thing. It̢۪s taking you down the path to HELL!
They̢۪re not made with waterproof leather!
The phrase that keeps running around in my head is Resistance is Futile,
like I̢۪m someone who̢۪s about to be assimilated into those butt-ugly
Borg cubes. But, in the spirit of all good little anti-marketing
campaigners, I will resist. I will muster my defenses. I am strong. I am a shoe whore and I am proud of it, but I will not pay ungodly sums for designer shoesâ€Â¦until
I sell the manuscript and can indulge my shoe whoredom. Free markets
are free markets, after all. You just need to be able to afford them.
Yeah. Um-hmmm. That̢۪s it. --- Ah, God love flame wars. They̢۪re fun.
There̢۪s been an interesting one going on over at A Small Victory,
and, wow, have the Neanderthals come out to play! Michele, rightly, is
pissed off. It started here and has gone on to here , here and here.
I̢۪ll let you look it up if you̢۪re interested. It̢۪s about the
newly initiated free breakfast program at public schools in NYC.
Originally some windbag over at Right Wing News decried
this and it̢۪s all gone on from there. The comments started off in a
fairly innocuous way when Michele replied to this. Support, for the
most part, but then someone said something to the effect of hey, he̢۪s got a point
and has now deteriorated into men telling women to keep their legs shut
so they and their resultant fatherless children won̢۪t be a burden on
society. Hmmm. Always telling, comments like those. They say a heck of
a lot more about the people who wrote them rather than providing useful
evidence to back up their point. These guys are like the much hated
next door neighbor who is forever giving me shit about my much beloved,
but on its last legs 1983 Camry, because he has four cars for two
drivers and he̢۪s so cool because of it. The essence of his bafflement as to why we don̢۪t replace it seems to come down to something like this: Capitalism
and boot strapping worked for me, it should work for you too! I
shouldn̢۪t have to pay for your mistakes! Your car is driving my
property values down! Have you no pride!
Ummm. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I just choose not to apply it to
social status obtained by the purchasing of fancy automobiles. Driving
a Saab, in other words, doesn̢۪t make me a better person. Nor does
having an expensive car payment, but thanks for playing upon my
insecurities about not fitting in because money and all the things it
can buy a person is what you
value and what prompts your refusal to shut the hell up about it. While
I reject the nastiness of these men, and the overall idiocy of some of
the suggestions, I think all of the debate is focusing on the wrong
thing. No one̢۪s going to deny some kid a hot breakfast if their
parents can̢۪t provide one for them. It doesn̢۪t matter if this is a
back-channel attempt by the NYC public schools to boost their funding
from the Agriculture Department. Kids do better in school on a full
stomach: end of story. All of this junk is irrelevant.
What is relevant here is the frustration of the average taxpayer who
keeps getting hit up for stuff like this. Because this is one more
straw that̢۪s being added to the camel̢۪s back; when the camel will
collapse, no one knows, but something̢۪s got to be done about it
before the taxpayers go into complete and utter revolt. Now, the
husband and I are your average married, with no children, taxpayer. We
rent, so we don̢۪t get a homeowners discount on our taxes. We have no
children, so we don̢۪t qualify for any deductions on that front
either, nor did we receive that nice refund check all the people with
kids got earlier this summer. Sure, we do get a few deductions from the
husband̢۪s business, but it̢۪s generally not enough to lower the
burden all that much. We pay the highest percentage of taxes we
possibly could on the income the husband brings in to not only the
feds, but also to the State of Minnesota, who, in the past, depending
upon which bracket we fell into at the time, actually charged more than
the feds. Minnesota is actually giving out property tax rebates as a
form of tax relief. They threw them in the mail the other day. We
won̢۪t be getting that check because, despite the fact most of our
rent goes to pay property taxes, it doesn̢۪t technically count. This
says nothing about all of the ordinary taxes we pay on a daily basis:
sales tax; gas taxes; taxes on cigarettes and pipe tobacco and cigars;
taxes for services, like electricity and phone; taxes on tag renewals
for the car. It goes on and on. Everything in the State of Minnesota, besides food and
clothing, is taxed. There is no escaping it. And don̢۪t tell me to
push out a kid or buy a house or even to set up an offshore company so
I can escape the taxes like you no doubt have. This is not the point.
It̢۪s a very sad day when it̢۪s to my benefit to change my lifestyle
so I can pay the government less. That̢۪s latent socialism and I
don̢۪t appreciate it.
I have no problems with paying my taxes, other than bawling like a
little girl when it̢۪s time to sign the checks. While I have some
issues with some of the spending (ok, a lot of issues, but that̢۪s not
the issue), I still realize that if I want less spending, I have to
vote for someone who believes that too. This is the way our government
works. What bothers me is this willy-nilly (sorry for that usage, but
it̢۪s the truth) dumping of money into the educational system and
thinking it̢۪s going to solve all the problems that are going on
there. This
is why people are so enraged at this notion of free breakfast for poor
kids. It̢۪s not that anyone in their right mind would deny a kid a
free breakfast. (And if you do, simply on the premise that feeding a
hungry child is wrong in this instance, that this is where you̢۪re
going to make your last stand, you̢۪ve got your priorities out of
whack and you̢۪re making my case for eugenics stronger). It̢۪s that
it̢۪s one more straw on the camel̢۪s back. You just have to look at
some of the kids that are coming out of the public schools today to
wonder where the hell is all that money going because it̢۪s certainly
not going into educating these kids. I used to manage a coffee shop,
and as such, I had a lot of teenage employees. Their applications were
incredible: they couldn̢۪t spell to save their lives. The interviews
were amazing, because they couldn̢۪t connect A to B in a coherent way.
If the cash register/computer went down and the calculator was missing,
the idea of adding and subtracting manually was enough to throw them
into a tizzy fit because they hadn̢۪t done that since grade school and they weren̢۪t going to be held accountable if the drawer was short.
The employees that I did have would talk about school, and some of the
things I learned were astounding. Did you know they have TV̢۪s in the
classroom nowadays? Yep. It̢۪s there for educational purposes, but
it̢۪s generally on MTV, or so one girl said. At one point, the seniors
were reading 1984 and, as a group, they declared that they
thought it was the hardest book they̢۪d ever read. And they were all
in AP English. And no, I̢۪m not joking. I read 1984 in 1984. When I was fourteen and in the eighth grade. When I was a senior in high school, we were tackling Lord Jim. I don̢۪t want to regress into one of those back when I was in school
sort of thing, but hell. I̢۪m only thirty-two and the things that were
considered educational priorities way back in the 1970̢۪s and 80̢۪s
is dramatically different from now. I could add and subtract. Not well,
mind you, but I could and I didn̢۪t panic hysterically at the mere
thought of doing so. I can spell. I can connect A to B verbally. I
couldn̢۪t ignore the differences and it would have meant willful
blindness on my part to do so. Every time there̢۪s a tax increase
being proposed, legislators, federal, state or municipal, they talk
about how good it would be to have the extra money going to the education of our children.
It would allow schools to do so much more. More computers, more
textbooks, more #2 pencils. They intimate that a generation of
Einsteins will come about if only the average citizen would pay just a little bit more in taxes.
Well, it̢۪s a cheap trump card to keep throwing down and I, for one,
am sick of it. It̢۪s emotional blackmail, because it hits all the high
notes: children, education, the future of our world, etc. You look like
a Dickensian nightmare if you refuse. God, how could you deny poor Johnny a textbook! Shame on you!
All of the money I already pay you isn̢۪t producing that generation of
Einsteins as it is, so why should I pay you more? Learn how to use your
resources wisely. I always find it amazing that teachers are the ones
being laid off when there̢۪s a budget shortfall. I don̢۪t see fat cat
administrators taking a pay cut. I don̢۪t see the teachers̢۪ unions
telling their members that they don̢۪t have to pay their union dues
because, maybe, the teachers could use that money to pay their phone
bill because they̢۪re underpaid enough already. They need that money
for the strike fund, don̢۪t you know? If the fiscal situation was
quite so bad, shouldn̢۪t the administrators be working for free? If
they don̢۪t have the money for paper in the classroom, perhaps the
bureaucracies that run the school districts should be giving over their
office supplies so that there is? But no, it̢۪s easier to lay-off
non-tenured teachers because it draws a big ol̢۪ red arrow to the
point that the fat cats don̢۪t think there̢۪s enough money to run
their school district. Yet another cheap emotional trump card to lay
down, but it works, so why shouldn̢۪t they keep doing it? It gets more
money in. More money for them to spend unwisely, when the students
can̢۪t spell and, at age eighteen, think 1984
is a tough read that they just don̢۪t get. We spend so much money on
education, and the kids aren̢۪t getting educated. That̢۪s what the
issue is here. Not free breakfast for kids who don̢۪t get fed at home.
Education is supposed to be about lifting our children up so that they
might do better than us. Right now, we̢۪re barely giving them the
tools needed to work on the night shift at a convenience store. --- We
have a guest blogger today. I know. I know. Gasping for air doesn̢۪t
quite fill the lungs after the shock of the idea I would allow someone
else to blog here hit you squarely in the chest, does it? Breathe
deeply. You̢۪ll get your wind back soon enough. Like Lileks, we also
rented The Core this weekend. Unlike
Lileks, however, we liked it. It was fun. Its Kung Fu was strong. The
husband has a few points he would like to make regarding it soâ€Â¦.away
we go with the cutting and pasting. - This may explain why Mr. Lileks sticks with the 50̢۪s sci-fi movies.
I admit at first I was reluctant to watch “The Coreâ€, for the same reasons that Mr. Lileks was eager to see it. â€stuff
blows up, there̢۪s a fancy ship, the world̢۪s in peril, etc. Could be
a great bad movie. Could be a bad good movie.†However, he’s
off base with most of his conclusions. The two conclusions I̢۪ll agree
with him on are that Hillary Swank didn̢۪t look like she belonged
there and that much of the cut-scenes should have stayed in the film.
But overall, I really liked the movie. It was very intelligent in all
the right places. The physics were plausible, and the combination of
sciences meshed very well. I̢۪m wondering if Mr. Lileks prefers his
science fiction dumbed down for the masses like most of the garbage we
get out of Hollywood.
First, Mr. Lileks argues that the hacker persona ‘Rat’ was
inaccurate in that furious typing can grant access to the critical
location̢۪s equipment and shut down systems as needed. Granted, all
movies oversimplify this aspect of hacking, but nevertheless it is
plausible. There̢۪s a scene where Rat tells the overly-elitist
physicist played by Tucci “Multi-tasking, I couldn’t think as slow
as you if I tried.†I could go into a plausible scenario how, with
the several computer systems operating simultaneously Rat could have
used many different tactics to locate, crack, comprehend and disable a
public power supply, but I won’tâ€Â¦it’s boring. Anyway, what the
hell would a MAC guy (he says with disgust) know about how real
computer systems work anyway??
Then he goes on about aspects of the film. His criticism of the pigeon
scene is way off. Have you ever been to Trafalgar square? I have,
there̢۪s so many birds they have to hose the square off several times
a day. It̢۪s disgusting. It gets so bad that the pavement is slippery
and dangerous. Mr. Lileks seems to believe that the shot was filmed to
make it look like pigeons pushed a bus overâ€Â¦not true. In the shot in
question, the bus very clearly drives over an obstacle in the road that
causes it to flip. The birds̢۪ role was simply to distract the driver
directly and through the hysteria caused by them crashing through
windows. And he complains “destroying the Coliseum by lightning? How? Why, but striking it so many times it glows, then explodes.â€
Well, not exactly. If he would have looked closer, he would have
noticed the capacitor effect the coliseum began to exhibit. As the
lightning entered the bowl, perhaps some minor conductivity in the
stone, combined with the sheer size and unique shape of the Coliseum
actually had the effect of storing a charge temporarily until an
explosive force was built and pushed past the structure̢۪s ability to
contain it. Unlikely I̢۪ll admit, but the movie-makers here were at
least trying.
Finally, here’s another comment: “It’s good to know we could
construct a ship capable of visiting the earth̢۪s core - and have it
ready to go, with custom launch pad over the Pacific, in three years.
“ Well, if he was paying attention (again) he would have
noticed that all the experimentation was done! The material was
developed and prototyped already. The rest was engineering and money
for fabrication. Pretty easy to obtain when you have the world̢۪s
governments behind you and the goal is to SAVE THE PLANET! I̢۪m not
sure what a newspaper columnist knows about construction and
manufacturing, but in the end it̢۪s all a matter of resources. If you
know what you want to build and money is not a problem, manufacturers
will line up at your door to ask you when you̢۪d like it delivered.
Anyway, that̢۪s my opinion. It̢۪s a very intelligent movie with well
written roles, good humor and engaging excitement. At least it was for
me. I̢۪ve been called a geek, though, so take that for what it̢۪s
worth.
- Me here againâ€Â¦the only thing I have to add is that Lileks says the
ship was built in three years. It was three months, not three years. I
have to wonder, though. We live in the same neighborhood that Lileks
does. Granted, he does not live in Cake Eater Land, as we do: he lives
across the street in the Minneapolis province of the People̢۪s
Republic of Minnesota. We̢۪ve sussed this out just by reading The
Bleat. We go to the same Target and now I̢۪m beginning to wonder if,
when Reloaded comes out in a few weeks, we̢۪ll be fighting over the last copy at the local Blockbuster.
Stop sending me catalogs, would you? We is po̢۪. I cannot afford the stuff in these catalogs. You̢۪re killing trees needlessly.
But, oh yes, do I ever want the junk. Especially these. And these boots Prada---you know those jokesters in Milan---has titled the sport buckle bootie I could even probably make do with these despite the fact every practical bone in my body is screaming Nooooooooo,
don̢۪t do it! For the love of all that is good and holy reject your
preppy instincts! Throw your tattered Preppy Handbook down and then
burn the effing thing. It̢۪s taking you down the path to HELL!
They̢۪re not made with waterproof leather!
The phrase that keeps running around in my head is Resistance is Futile,
like I̢۪m someone who̢۪s about to be assimilated into those butt-ugly
Borg cubes. But, in the spirit of all good little anti-marketing
campaigners, I will resist. I will muster my defenses. I am strong. I am a shoe whore and I am proud of it, but I will not pay ungodly sums for designer shoesâ€Â¦until
I sell the manuscript and can indulge my shoe whoredom. Free markets
are free markets, after all. You just need to be able to afford them.
Yeah. Um-hmmm. That̢۪s it. --- Ah, God love flame wars. They̢۪re fun.
There̢۪s been an interesting one going on over at A Small Victory,
and, wow, have the Neanderthals come out to play! Michele, rightly, is
pissed off. It started here and has gone on to here , here and here.
I̢۪ll let you look it up if you̢۪re interested. It̢۪s about the
newly initiated free breakfast program at public schools in NYC.
Originally some windbag over at Right Wing News decried
this and it̢۪s all gone on from there. The comments started off in a
fairly innocuous way when Michele replied to this. Support, for the
most part, but then someone said something to the effect of hey, he̢۪s got a point
and has now deteriorated into men telling women to keep their legs shut
so they and their resultant fatherless children won̢۪t be a burden on
society. Hmmm. Always telling, comments like those. They say a heck of
a lot more about the people who wrote them rather than providing useful
evidence to back up their point. These guys are like the much hated
next door neighbor who is forever giving me shit about my much beloved,
but on its last legs 1983 Camry, because he has four cars for two
drivers and he̢۪s so cool because of it. The essence of his bafflement as to why we don̢۪t replace it seems to come down to something like this: Capitalism
and boot strapping worked for me, it should work for you too! I
shouldn̢۪t have to pay for your mistakes! Your car is driving my
property values down! Have you no pride!
Ummm. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I just choose not to apply it to
social status obtained by the purchasing of fancy automobiles. Driving
a Saab, in other words, doesn̢۪t make me a better person. Nor does
having an expensive car payment, but thanks for playing upon my
insecurities about not fitting in because money and all the things it
can buy a person is what you
value and what prompts your refusal to shut the hell up about it. While
I reject the nastiness of these men, and the overall idiocy of some of
the suggestions, I think all of the debate is focusing on the wrong
thing. No one̢۪s going to deny some kid a hot breakfast if their
parents can̢۪t provide one for them. It doesn̢۪t matter if this is a
back-channel attempt by the NYC public schools to boost their funding
from the Agriculture Department. Kids do better in school on a full
stomach: end of story. All of this junk is irrelevant.
What is relevant here is the frustration of the average taxpayer who
keeps getting hit up for stuff like this. Because this is one more
straw that̢۪s being added to the camel̢۪s back; when the camel will
collapse, no one knows, but something̢۪s got to be done about it
before the taxpayers go into complete and utter revolt. Now, the
husband and I are your average married, with no children, taxpayer. We
rent, so we don̢۪t get a homeowners discount on our taxes. We have no
children, so we don̢۪t qualify for any deductions on that front
either, nor did we receive that nice refund check all the people with
kids got earlier this summer. Sure, we do get a few deductions from the
husband̢۪s business, but it̢۪s generally not enough to lower the
burden all that much. We pay the highest percentage of taxes we
possibly could on the income the husband brings in to not only the
feds, but also to the State of Minnesota, who, in the past, depending
upon which bracket we fell into at the time, actually charged more than
the feds. Minnesota is actually giving out property tax rebates as a
form of tax relief. They threw them in the mail the other day. We
won̢۪t be getting that check because, despite the fact most of our
rent goes to pay property taxes, it doesn̢۪t technically count. This
says nothing about all of the ordinary taxes we pay on a daily basis:
sales tax; gas taxes; taxes on cigarettes and pipe tobacco and cigars;
taxes for services, like electricity and phone; taxes on tag renewals
for the car. It goes on and on. Everything in the State of Minnesota, besides food and
clothing, is taxed. There is no escaping it. And don̢۪t tell me to
push out a kid or buy a house or even to set up an offshore company so
I can escape the taxes like you no doubt have. This is not the point.
It̢۪s a very sad day when it̢۪s to my benefit to change my lifestyle
so I can pay the government less. That̢۪s latent socialism and I
don̢۪t appreciate it.
I have no problems with paying my taxes, other than bawling like a
little girl when it̢۪s time to sign the checks. While I have some
issues with some of the spending (ok, a lot of issues, but that̢۪s not
the issue), I still realize that if I want less spending, I have to
vote for someone who believes that too. This is the way our government
works. What bothers me is this willy-nilly (sorry for that usage, but
it̢۪s the truth) dumping of money into the educational system and
thinking it̢۪s going to solve all the problems that are going on
there. This
is why people are so enraged at this notion of free breakfast for poor
kids. It̢۪s not that anyone in their right mind would deny a kid a
free breakfast. (And if you do, simply on the premise that feeding a
hungry child is wrong in this instance, that this is where you̢۪re
going to make your last stand, you̢۪ve got your priorities out of
whack and you̢۪re making my case for eugenics stronger). It̢۪s that
it̢۪s one more straw on the camel̢۪s back. You just have to look at
some of the kids that are coming out of the public schools today to
wonder where the hell is all that money going because it̢۪s certainly
not going into educating these kids. I used to manage a coffee shop,
and as such, I had a lot of teenage employees. Their applications were
incredible: they couldn̢۪t spell to save their lives. The interviews
were amazing, because they couldn̢۪t connect A to B in a coherent way.
If the cash register/computer went down and the calculator was missing,
the idea of adding and subtracting manually was enough to throw them
into a tizzy fit because they hadn̢۪t done that since grade school and they weren̢۪t going to be held accountable if the drawer was short.
The employees that I did have would talk about school, and some of the
things I learned were astounding. Did you know they have TV̢۪s in the
classroom nowadays? Yep. It̢۪s there for educational purposes, but
it̢۪s generally on MTV, or so one girl said. At one point, the seniors
were reading 1984 and, as a group, they declared that they
thought it was the hardest book they̢۪d ever read. And they were all
in AP English. And no, I̢۪m not joking. I read 1984 in 1984. When I was fourteen and in the eighth grade. When I was a senior in high school, we were tackling Lord Jim. I don̢۪t want to regress into one of those back when I was in school
sort of thing, but hell. I̢۪m only thirty-two and the things that were
considered educational priorities way back in the 1970̢۪s and 80̢۪s
is dramatically different from now. I could add and subtract. Not well,
mind you, but I could and I didn̢۪t panic hysterically at the mere
thought of doing so. I can spell. I can connect A to B verbally. I
couldn̢۪t ignore the differences and it would have meant willful
blindness on my part to do so. Every time there̢۪s a tax increase
being proposed, legislators, federal, state or municipal, they talk
about how good it would be to have the extra money going to the education of our children.
It would allow schools to do so much more. More computers, more
textbooks, more #2 pencils. They intimate that a generation of
Einsteins will come about if only the average citizen would pay just a little bit more in taxes.
Well, it̢۪s a cheap trump card to keep throwing down and I, for one,
am sick of it. It̢۪s emotional blackmail, because it hits all the high
notes: children, education, the future of our world, etc. You look like
a Dickensian nightmare if you refuse. God, how could you deny poor Johnny a textbook! Shame on you!
All of the money I already pay you isn̢۪t producing that generation of
Einsteins as it is, so why should I pay you more? Learn how to use your
resources wisely. I always find it amazing that teachers are the ones
being laid off when there̢۪s a budget shortfall. I don̢۪t see fat cat
administrators taking a pay cut. I don̢۪t see the teachers̢۪ unions
telling their members that they don̢۪t have to pay their union dues
because, maybe, the teachers could use that money to pay their phone
bill because they̢۪re underpaid enough already. They need that money
for the strike fund, don̢۪t you know? If the fiscal situation was
quite so bad, shouldn̢۪t the administrators be working for free? If
they don̢۪t have the money for paper in the classroom, perhaps the
bureaucracies that run the school districts should be giving over their
office supplies so that there is? But no, it̢۪s easier to lay-off
non-tenured teachers because it draws a big ol̢۪ red arrow to the
point that the fat cats don̢۪t think there̢۪s enough money to run
their school district. Yet another cheap emotional trump card to lay
down, but it works, so why shouldn̢۪t they keep doing it? It gets more
money in. More money for them to spend unwisely, when the students
can̢۪t spell and, at age eighteen, think 1984
is a tough read that they just don̢۪t get. We spend so much money on
education, and the kids aren̢۪t getting educated. That̢۪s what the
issue is here. Not free breakfast for kids who don̢۪t get fed at home.
Education is supposed to be about lifting our children up so that they
might do better than us. Right now, we̢۪re barely giving them the
tools needed to work on the night shift at a convenience store. --- We
have a guest blogger today. I know. I know. Gasping for air doesn̢۪t
quite fill the lungs after the shock of the idea I would allow someone
else to blog here hit you squarely in the chest, does it? Breathe
deeply. You̢۪ll get your wind back soon enough. Like Lileks, we also
rented The Core this weekend. Unlike
Lileks, however, we liked it. It was fun. Its Kung Fu was strong. The
husband has a few points he would like to make regarding it soâ€Â¦.away
we go with the cutting and pasting. - This may explain why Mr. Lileks sticks with the 50̢۪s sci-fi movies.
I admit at first I was reluctant to watch “The Coreâ€, for the same reasons that Mr. Lileks was eager to see it. â€stuff
blows up, there̢۪s a fancy ship, the world̢۪s in peril, etc. Could be
a great bad movie. Could be a bad good movie.†However, he’s
off base with most of his conclusions. The two conclusions I̢۪ll agree
with him on are that Hillary Swank didn̢۪t look like she belonged
there and that much of the cut-scenes should have stayed in the film.
But overall, I really liked the movie. It was very intelligent in all
the right places. The physics were plausible, and the combination of
sciences meshed very well. I̢۪m wondering if Mr. Lileks prefers his
science fiction dumbed down for the masses like most of the garbage we
get out of Hollywood.
First, Mr. Lileks argues that the hacker persona ‘Rat’ was
inaccurate in that furious typing can grant access to the critical
location̢۪s equipment and shut down systems as needed. Granted, all
movies oversimplify this aspect of hacking, but nevertheless it is
plausible. There̢۪s a scene where Rat tells the overly-elitist
physicist played by Tucci “Multi-tasking, I couldn’t think as slow
as you if I tried.†I could go into a plausible scenario how, with
the several computer systems operating simultaneously Rat could have
used many different tactics to locate, crack, comprehend and disable a
public power supply, but I won’tâ€Â¦it’s boring. Anyway, what the
hell would a MAC guy (he says with disgust) know about how real
computer systems work anyway??
Then he goes on about aspects of the film. His criticism of the pigeon
scene is way off. Have you ever been to Trafalgar square? I have,
there̢۪s so many birds they have to hose the square off several times
a day. It̢۪s disgusting. It gets so bad that the pavement is slippery
and dangerous. Mr. Lileks seems to believe that the shot was filmed to
make it look like pigeons pushed a bus overâ€Â¦not true. In the shot in
question, the bus very clearly drives over an obstacle in the road that
causes it to flip. The birds̢۪ role was simply to distract the driver
directly and through the hysteria caused by them crashing through
windows. And he complains “destroying the Coliseum by lightning? How? Why, but striking it so many times it glows, then explodes.â€
Well, not exactly. If he would have looked closer, he would have
noticed the capacitor effect the coliseum began to exhibit. As the
lightning entered the bowl, perhaps some minor conductivity in the
stone, combined with the sheer size and unique shape of the Coliseum
actually had the effect of storing a charge temporarily until an
explosive force was built and pushed past the structure̢۪s ability to
contain it. Unlikely I̢۪ll admit, but the movie-makers here were at
least trying.
Finally, here’s another comment: “It’s good to know we could
construct a ship capable of visiting the earth̢۪s core - and have it
ready to go, with custom launch pad over the Pacific, in three years.
“ Well, if he was paying attention (again) he would have
noticed that all the experimentation was done! The material was
developed and prototyped already. The rest was engineering and money
for fabrication. Pretty easy to obtain when you have the world̢۪s
governments behind you and the goal is to SAVE THE PLANET! I̢۪m not
sure what a newspaper columnist knows about construction and
manufacturing, but in the end it̢۪s all a matter of resources. If you
know what you want to build and money is not a problem, manufacturers
will line up at your door to ask you when you̢۪d like it delivered.
Anyway, that̢۪s my opinion. It̢۪s a very intelligent movie with well
written roles, good humor and engaging excitement. At least it was for
me. I̢۪ve been called a geek, though, so take that for what it̢۪s
worth.
- Me here againâ€Â¦the only thing I have to add is that Lileks says the
ship was built in three years. It was three months, not three years. I
have to wonder, though. We live in the same neighborhood that Lileks
does. Granted, he does not live in Cake Eater Land, as we do: he lives
across the street in the Minneapolis province of the People̢۪s
Republic of Minnesota. We̢۪ve sussed this out just by reading The
Bleat. We go to the same Target and now I̢۪m beginning to wonder if,
when Reloaded comes out in a few weeks, we̢۪ll be fighting over the last copy at the local Blockbuster.
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--- My house is a
--- My house is a pit. So, why don̢۪t you clean it?
Well, that would be the logical solution to the problem. Yet, as we all
know, I very rarely devote any time to upholding the very vague (as I
see it, anyway) principles of logic. Logic is boring. Everyone else has
logic. Why should I? I like being illogical: it̢۪s infinitely more fun
to keep everyone on edge when it comes to the things that fly out of my
mouth. However, this time I am following the course of logic---in a
roundabout sort of way. I told you all how they ripped up the alley and
the streets surrounding the Cake Eater Apartment. After two weeks of
dirt-road-in-the-middle-of-the-city action, jockeying for parking on
the street (God forbid that ever happens again), listening to the beep, beep, beep noise all trucks owned by Cake Eater City---yes, even the pickup trucks---make all damn day long
when they shift into reverse, they finally got around to laying down
some asphalt. That was two weekends ago. Now, I̢۪m told by the men in
my life that the normal course of action is to let the asphalt settle
for ten days before they lay the second layer. Ten days past was on
Tuesday. They still haven̢۪t laid the asphalt, and I doubt they̢۪ll
get around to it before this weekend, because of course, the Cake Eater
workers need the overtime. Laying asphalt is a messy, dust raising
business, and I̢۪m not going to clean the apartment until it̢۪s all
done. The husband tells me to keep my eyes open for the street sweepers
because they̢۪ll have to clean up all the debris that̢۪s settled on
the road before they pave again. They haven̢۪t shown yet. And I̢۪ll
be damned if I̢۪ll clean up all the dust, just to have another layer
settle over the apartment when they pave. But the urge to clean is strong. I̢۪m tempted to say the hell with it and just do it. I just know
however, that the minute I do start cleaning, they̢۪ll show up and it
will all be for naught. I can live in squalor quite easily, but the
state of the apartment is even getting to me now. The husband,
neat-freak that he is, has been at pains to keep his mouth shut for
weeks. When it starts bothering me, well, that̢۪s a bad omen. --- It
was windier than Chicago in January here in the cities yesterday. The
husband and I went for a walk over at Lake Harriet yesterday afternoon
and just about got blown off the path. The masts on all the sailboats
were clanking noisily in their posts; the walkway in front of the band
shell, where people normally feed the ducks, resembled a sea wall; a
windsurfer was scooting back and forth across the lake at about---I
estimate---thirty mph and looked like he was having a damn good time
doing so, too. As one gentleman who was sitting on a park bench,
scoping the action, observed as we passed, “It’s an amazing day at
the lake.†Yes, siree, it really was. People were getting splashed as
the waves crashed against the beach, seven feet away from the path,
squealing in horrified delight as they got wet; everyone was huddled
over, fighting their way against the wind; runners were actually
putting their shirts back on, instead of removing them. Everything was
opposite of what it usually was, in a unique kind of way. But there
were still obnoxious people there: you would have thought, given the
fact their hair might have been pushed out of place by the wind, they
would have stayed home. Not so. The poor husband. I feel bad for him
because he seems to be raising a lot of ire in our fellow walkers every
time we walk over there. The husband enjoys cigars and has since his
dad taught him to light one up over a chainsaw at the tender age of
sixteen. He̢۪s not one of those people who has one hanging out of his
mouth at every moment and actually has to speak around the massive
butt, but he likes them. He probably smokes one or two a week. And he
especially likes one when we walk around the lake: since he no longer
drinks, this is his equivalent of a relaxing cocktail at the end of the
day. Some people seem intent on ruining this for him, however. Now, the
last time I looked, there was not one law in the Minneapolis province
of the People̢۪s Republic of Minnesota that specifically prohibits the
smoking of tobacco in the open air. But, I̢۪m sure these people who
keep coughing loudly whenever they pass us would like one to be in effect. In fact, some of them have even said as much, loudly as they walked or ran past. God, they should really do something about thatâ€Â¦it’s disgusting .
We had a group of mommies with babies in strollers do the coughing bit
yesterday. Here̢۪s what I have to say about that: move to Mesa,
Arizona, if it bothers you so much. According to the in-laws, who live
down there, there is no smoking anywhere
in Mesa. You can̢۪t even do the polite thing and go outside to fire up
because it̢۪s illegal. There̢۪s absolutely no smoking there. So, that
should be where your fat ass should reside if you don̢۪t want to deal
with smoke. It̢۪s quite simple, actually: nonsmokers have an option:
they pack their IKEA shit up and MOVE.
Now, I know cigar smoke can be cloying and overwhelming to people who
are not used to it. I only allow the husband to fire up cigars inside
the house when going outside is not an option. And I smoke cigarettes,
so believe you me, I don̢۪t have a freaking leg to stand on in this
regard, but it still bothers me. But, in closed spaces without adequate
ventilation, cigar smoke is a nasty thing and the husband knows this
and is considerate about it. I also don̢۪t mind removing to the bar
for such an activity when we̢۪re out. Like Anthony Bourdain, if I̢۪ve
paid a lot of money for a good meal, the last thing I want interrupting
my taste buds is smoke from someone̢۪s butt. But this insidious all smoke is bad so I̢۪m going to socially
shun you and shame you into giving it up so my airspace smells like
nothing but the dog shit someone hasn̢۪t picked up attitude is childish. Because that̢۪s the real reason it offends them: it smells
bad. No one is going to ever catch lung cancer from passing a smoker on
a pathway. It̢۪s just not going to happen. I̢۪m sorry if you
disagree, but I would ask you to apply common sense to the matter. The
minute you̢۪re past the husband and I on the walking path at Lake
Harriet, your risk level has dropped from the nano-percentage region
into the odds-of-a-snowball-surviving-hell numerical range. It̢۪s the pee-eeew factor at work. It stinks, you don̢۪t
like it, so you act like a seven-year-old who̢۪s just gotten a whiff
of their baby sibling̢۪s overflowing diaper. And much in the same
manner of a seven-year-old, you cough loudly, make gagging sounds, and
then move on, because you don̢۪t want to have to deal with it and you
think you̢۪re clever because you̢۪re getting your point across in a
non-confrontational manner. You feel good at the end of your coughing
fit. You feel as if you̢۪ve defended your hearth and home against any
and all threats against it. It doesn̢۪t matter if that threat was a
quickly dissipating wisp of cigar smoke: for a brief second it was
invading your space, and in the manner of all things that
invade your space, you feel you have to take a stand against it. Fine.
Whatever.
I hesitate to mention it, but if you actually worked up the brass to
approach the husband and asked him politely to put his cigar out
because it offends you, you might actually have a chance of getting him
to do so. He̢۪s a polite man: he strives not to offend. But that̢۪s
only if you word your request correctly and are not obnoxious about it.
But you don̢۪t do that, do you? You cough, you pretend to gag, you
make snide comments you think he can̢۪t hear, but you never bother to
open a discussion. Why, I have no idea. Maybe you don̢۪t want to be
seen talking to a smoker, because it would hurt your reputation. Maybe
you just assume that since he̢۪s already doing something so obnoxious
as smoking a cigar, he really doesn̢۪t care what you think and
wouldn̢۪t do anything anyway. Maybe you already know you don̢۪t have
a leg to stand on because he̢۪s doing nothing illegal. I don̢۪t know
what your reasoning is, but the point stands: you never bother to be an adult about it, so why should the husband treat you like one?
Ironically enough, when this happened yesterday, the husband knew
people were behind him and he didn̢۪t take a puff. Especially because
he could hear the wheels of the strollers over the wind: he doesn̢۪t
smoke around children---ever. Yet, these women coughed loudly and
passed us quickly, as if we both were plague-carriers, and the
husband̢۪s cigar, which he had labored to keep lit all the way around
the lake on a blustery day, went out. Which also means that they just
objected to the idea that someone was smoking a cigar: the cigar
wasn̢۪t actually emitting any smoke, so how could they have possibly
be offended by the smell---even if it wasn̢۪t as windy as it was
yesterday? He didn̢۪t bother to relight it. What was the point? The
whole experience was shot to hell for him because of adults who acted
like children.
--- This, understandably, put the husband in a poor mood yesterday
afternoon. So, around a quarter til five, he asks if we want to fire up
the movie we rented the other day: Gangs of New York.
We get about an hour in, Cameron̢۪s dancing with a very greasy
Leonardo and---bleeep---the TV shuts off. It̢۪s always interesting
when the power goes off in the daytime and we̢۪re not in the office:
it̢۪s a confusing experience. Sure the computer went down, but did we just trip the circuit breaker somehow? The wiring in this house sucks, after all.
It̢۪s the same when you̢۪re just watching TV, because that̢۪s the
only thing that̢۪s not working. It̢۪s easier when it̢۪s full dark
outside and suddenly everything̢۪s dark. There̢۪s no light
coming from the neighbors, there̢۪s no light on the street, hence the
power went out. But when it̢۪s still day time, it̢۪s a wee bit
discombobulating because you have no handy references on which to base
your assumption. I went down to check the circuit breaker and didn̢۪t
even get that far. There was no light in the basement hallway, which is
on the downstairs neighbor̢۪s breaker, so I knew it was time to call
the power company. The husband was pissed and started to work on
cooking dinner, because, fortunately, we have a gas stove. I used the
husband̢۪s cell phone to call the power company. His phone always
confuses me, and after several tries to dial the number correctly, when
I finally got it done properly, there was a busy signal on an automated
1-800 line. I knew this was not a good sign. Three more redials and I
finally got through; entered in the house phone number and the
automated system said it expected the power to be restored at 7:48 p.m.
So, we eat dinner. We chat with friends on the Minneapolis side of the
border: they have power. I comment in a complimentary fashion that
isn̢۪t it great that instead of sitting on hold for forty-five
minutes, like I have in the past, Xcel has an automated line that will
even spit out an estimated time of restoration. Isn̢۪t that great? I
think that̢۪s great. The husband was grumpily unimpressed. Since
it̢۪s getting darker outside, we pull out all the candles we can
muster and start lighting them. And just when we get settled inâ€Â¦voila,
the power comes back on. Just my luck. I was prepared to deal with a
few hours of darkness, but nooooo, for once the power company actually
has its act together and gets the power back up and running ahead of
schedule. I state this to the husband and he chuckles, but says
nothing. Went around and blew all the candles out and sat back down. As
the husband cued up the DVD to the place we̢۪d left off, he comments
that the power company has all of this wonderful technology that allows
its automated line to spit out an estimate of power restoration and yet
they forget to change the system to Daylight Savings Time.
Huh? He elaborates: the power went back on at precisely 6:48 p.m.: they
forgot to roll their clocks back last April. This, my friends, is why
he gets paid the big bucks and I don̢۪t.
Well, that would be the logical solution to the problem. Yet, as we all
know, I very rarely devote any time to upholding the very vague (as I
see it, anyway) principles of logic. Logic is boring. Everyone else has
logic. Why should I? I like being illogical: it̢۪s infinitely more fun
to keep everyone on edge when it comes to the things that fly out of my
mouth. However, this time I am following the course of logic---in a
roundabout sort of way. I told you all how they ripped up the alley and
the streets surrounding the Cake Eater Apartment. After two weeks of
dirt-road-in-the-middle-of-the-city action, jockeying for parking on
the street (God forbid that ever happens again), listening to the beep, beep, beep noise all trucks owned by Cake Eater City---yes, even the pickup trucks---make all damn day long
when they shift into reverse, they finally got around to laying down
some asphalt. That was two weekends ago. Now, I̢۪m told by the men in
my life that the normal course of action is to let the asphalt settle
for ten days before they lay the second layer. Ten days past was on
Tuesday. They still haven̢۪t laid the asphalt, and I doubt they̢۪ll
get around to it before this weekend, because of course, the Cake Eater
workers need the overtime. Laying asphalt is a messy, dust raising
business, and I̢۪m not going to clean the apartment until it̢۪s all
done. The husband tells me to keep my eyes open for the street sweepers
because they̢۪ll have to clean up all the debris that̢۪s settled on
the road before they pave again. They haven̢۪t shown yet. And I̢۪ll
be damned if I̢۪ll clean up all the dust, just to have another layer
settle over the apartment when they pave. But the urge to clean is strong. I̢۪m tempted to say the hell with it and just do it. I just know
however, that the minute I do start cleaning, they̢۪ll show up and it
will all be for naught. I can live in squalor quite easily, but the
state of the apartment is even getting to me now. The husband,
neat-freak that he is, has been at pains to keep his mouth shut for
weeks. When it starts bothering me, well, that̢۪s a bad omen. --- It
was windier than Chicago in January here in the cities yesterday. The
husband and I went for a walk over at Lake Harriet yesterday afternoon
and just about got blown off the path. The masts on all the sailboats
were clanking noisily in their posts; the walkway in front of the band
shell, where people normally feed the ducks, resembled a sea wall; a
windsurfer was scooting back and forth across the lake at about---I
estimate---thirty mph and looked like he was having a damn good time
doing so, too. As one gentleman who was sitting on a park bench,
scoping the action, observed as we passed, “It’s an amazing day at
the lake.†Yes, siree, it really was. People were getting splashed as
the waves crashed against the beach, seven feet away from the path,
squealing in horrified delight as they got wet; everyone was huddled
over, fighting their way against the wind; runners were actually
putting their shirts back on, instead of removing them. Everything was
opposite of what it usually was, in a unique kind of way. But there
were still obnoxious people there: you would have thought, given the
fact their hair might have been pushed out of place by the wind, they
would have stayed home. Not so. The poor husband. I feel bad for him
because he seems to be raising a lot of ire in our fellow walkers every
time we walk over there. The husband enjoys cigars and has since his
dad taught him to light one up over a chainsaw at the tender age of
sixteen. He̢۪s not one of those people who has one hanging out of his
mouth at every moment and actually has to speak around the massive
butt, but he likes them. He probably smokes one or two a week. And he
especially likes one when we walk around the lake: since he no longer
drinks, this is his equivalent of a relaxing cocktail at the end of the
day. Some people seem intent on ruining this for him, however. Now, the
last time I looked, there was not one law in the Minneapolis province
of the People̢۪s Republic of Minnesota that specifically prohibits the
smoking of tobacco in the open air. But, I̢۪m sure these people who
keep coughing loudly whenever they pass us would like one to be in effect. In fact, some of them have even said as much, loudly as they walked or ran past. God, they should really do something about thatâ€Â¦it’s disgusting .
We had a group of mommies with babies in strollers do the coughing bit
yesterday. Here̢۪s what I have to say about that: move to Mesa,
Arizona, if it bothers you so much. According to the in-laws, who live
down there, there is no smoking anywhere
in Mesa. You can̢۪t even do the polite thing and go outside to fire up
because it̢۪s illegal. There̢۪s absolutely no smoking there. So, that
should be where your fat ass should reside if you don̢۪t want to deal
with smoke. It̢۪s quite simple, actually: nonsmokers have an option:
they pack their IKEA shit up and MOVE.
Now, I know cigar smoke can be cloying and overwhelming to people who
are not used to it. I only allow the husband to fire up cigars inside
the house when going outside is not an option. And I smoke cigarettes,
so believe you me, I don̢۪t have a freaking leg to stand on in this
regard, but it still bothers me. But, in closed spaces without adequate
ventilation, cigar smoke is a nasty thing and the husband knows this
and is considerate about it. I also don̢۪t mind removing to the bar
for such an activity when we̢۪re out. Like Anthony Bourdain, if I̢۪ve
paid a lot of money for a good meal, the last thing I want interrupting
my taste buds is smoke from someone̢۪s butt. But this insidious all smoke is bad so I̢۪m going to socially
shun you and shame you into giving it up so my airspace smells like
nothing but the dog shit someone hasn̢۪t picked up attitude is childish. Because that̢۪s the real reason it offends them: it smells
bad. No one is going to ever catch lung cancer from passing a smoker on
a pathway. It̢۪s just not going to happen. I̢۪m sorry if you
disagree, but I would ask you to apply common sense to the matter. The
minute you̢۪re past the husband and I on the walking path at Lake
Harriet, your risk level has dropped from the nano-percentage region
into the odds-of-a-snowball-surviving-hell numerical range. It̢۪s the pee-eeew factor at work. It stinks, you don̢۪t
like it, so you act like a seven-year-old who̢۪s just gotten a whiff
of their baby sibling̢۪s overflowing diaper. And much in the same
manner of a seven-year-old, you cough loudly, make gagging sounds, and
then move on, because you don̢۪t want to have to deal with it and you
think you̢۪re clever because you̢۪re getting your point across in a
non-confrontational manner. You feel good at the end of your coughing
fit. You feel as if you̢۪ve defended your hearth and home against any
and all threats against it. It doesn̢۪t matter if that threat was a
quickly dissipating wisp of cigar smoke: for a brief second it was
invading your space, and in the manner of all things that
invade your space, you feel you have to take a stand against it. Fine.
Whatever.
I hesitate to mention it, but if you actually worked up the brass to
approach the husband and asked him politely to put his cigar out
because it offends you, you might actually have a chance of getting him
to do so. He̢۪s a polite man: he strives not to offend. But that̢۪s
only if you word your request correctly and are not obnoxious about it.
But you don̢۪t do that, do you? You cough, you pretend to gag, you
make snide comments you think he can̢۪t hear, but you never bother to
open a discussion. Why, I have no idea. Maybe you don̢۪t want to be
seen talking to a smoker, because it would hurt your reputation. Maybe
you just assume that since he̢۪s already doing something so obnoxious
as smoking a cigar, he really doesn̢۪t care what you think and
wouldn̢۪t do anything anyway. Maybe you already know you don̢۪t have
a leg to stand on because he̢۪s doing nothing illegal. I don̢۪t know
what your reasoning is, but the point stands: you never bother to be an adult about it, so why should the husband treat you like one?
Ironically enough, when this happened yesterday, the husband knew
people were behind him and he didn̢۪t take a puff. Especially because
he could hear the wheels of the strollers over the wind: he doesn̢۪t
smoke around children---ever. Yet, these women coughed loudly and
passed us quickly, as if we both were plague-carriers, and the
husband̢۪s cigar, which he had labored to keep lit all the way around
the lake on a blustery day, went out. Which also means that they just
objected to the idea that someone was smoking a cigar: the cigar
wasn̢۪t actually emitting any smoke, so how could they have possibly
be offended by the smell---even if it wasn̢۪t as windy as it was
yesterday? He didn̢۪t bother to relight it. What was the point? The
whole experience was shot to hell for him because of adults who acted
like children.
--- This, understandably, put the husband in a poor mood yesterday
afternoon. So, around a quarter til five, he asks if we want to fire up
the movie we rented the other day: Gangs of New York.
We get about an hour in, Cameron̢۪s dancing with a very greasy
Leonardo and---bleeep---the TV shuts off. It̢۪s always interesting
when the power goes off in the daytime and we̢۪re not in the office:
it̢۪s a confusing experience. Sure the computer went down, but did we just trip the circuit breaker somehow? The wiring in this house sucks, after all.
It̢۪s the same when you̢۪re just watching TV, because that̢۪s the
only thing that̢۪s not working. It̢۪s easier when it̢۪s full dark
outside and suddenly everything̢۪s dark. There̢۪s no light
coming from the neighbors, there̢۪s no light on the street, hence the
power went out. But when it̢۪s still day time, it̢۪s a wee bit
discombobulating because you have no handy references on which to base
your assumption. I went down to check the circuit breaker and didn̢۪t
even get that far. There was no light in the basement hallway, which is
on the downstairs neighbor̢۪s breaker, so I knew it was time to call
the power company. The husband was pissed and started to work on
cooking dinner, because, fortunately, we have a gas stove. I used the
husband̢۪s cell phone to call the power company. His phone always
confuses me, and after several tries to dial the number correctly, when
I finally got it done properly, there was a busy signal on an automated
1-800 line. I knew this was not a good sign. Three more redials and I
finally got through; entered in the house phone number and the
automated system said it expected the power to be restored at 7:48 p.m.
So, we eat dinner. We chat with friends on the Minneapolis side of the
border: they have power. I comment in a complimentary fashion that
isn̢۪t it great that instead of sitting on hold for forty-five
minutes, like I have in the past, Xcel has an automated line that will
even spit out an estimated time of restoration. Isn̢۪t that great? I
think that̢۪s great. The husband was grumpily unimpressed. Since
it̢۪s getting darker outside, we pull out all the candles we can
muster and start lighting them. And just when we get settled inâ€Â¦voila,
the power comes back on. Just my luck. I was prepared to deal with a
few hours of darkness, but nooooo, for once the power company actually
has its act together and gets the power back up and running ahead of
schedule. I state this to the husband and he chuckles, but says
nothing. Went around and blew all the candles out and sat back down. As
the husband cued up the DVD to the place we̢۪d left off, he comments
that the power company has all of this wonderful technology that allows
its automated line to spit out an estimate of power restoration and yet
they forget to change the system to Daylight Savings Time.
Huh? He elaborates: the power went back on at precisely 6:48 p.m.: they
forgot to roll their clocks back last April. This, my friends, is why
he gets paid the big bucks and I don̢۪t.
Posted by: Kathy at
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Post contains 2212 words, total size 14 kb.
--- Here̢۪s your Chuckle for
--- Here̢۪s your Chuckle for the Day. Found this at Instapundit. and thought I̢۪d put it up here because it̢۪s hilarious. What̢۪s even better is the author is completely serious.
Coolcentria, eh?
--- And now for something completely different.
How is it possible, in the year 2003, that women are still under the
threat of being stoned? Because that̢۪s what̢۪s going to happen to
Amina Lawal if her appeal fails: she will be buried up to her neck, her
vulnerable head poking out of the dirt, and idiots will be allowed to
throw stones at her until she dies. And what do you want to bet some
idiot will make sure she̢۪s veiled
while this happens? Because, of course, she can̢۪t be causing unseemly
lust in men even while she̢۪s bleeding to death because of a cerebral
hemorrhage caused by a rock hitting her unprotected skull.
“Draconian†doesn’t seem to cover it, does it?
But, amazingly enough, human rights protesters have not chosen to make
the treatment of women under Islam the basis of their protest.
According to the article “â€Â¦most
domestic and international outrage has focused on what many critics say
is the discriminatory nature of sharia's stand on adultery. The male
partner usually escapes injunction.â€
Oh, the old “it takes two to tango†argument. That’s
worthy of protest here? Not the fact that a woman who is illiterate,
who didn̢۪t know she was committing a crime, much less one she was
likely to lose her life over by admitting to, has been found guilty of
adultery and has been sentenced to death by stoning and they̢۪ve got their knickers in a twist over the fact the man isn̢۪t being held accountable too?
What is wrong with these people?
I suppose it must be the we must respect all cultures and the diversity of opinions that are not our own mentality. Yes, there is a time and a place to respect other beliefs and ethnic traditions.
But this isn̢۪t one of them.
NOW denounces the stoning but says "Until
both women and men are treated equally under the law in Nigeria, other
women are certain to be sentenced to death for the 'crime' of becoming
pregnant out of wedlock, even if it is the result of rape." They go on: “Amina Lawal Kurami's sentence is both inhumane and discriminatoryâ€Â¦Ã¢€ Ah, yes. It’s discriminatory. They say it’s inhumane, yes, but the main reason, it seems to me, that they object to Amina’s stoning is because it’s discriminatory. Surely, it’ll stop when men start being accused of this as well.
So, while Amnesty International for
once has the right idea, the leading feminist organization here in the
U.S. seems to imply that stoning people for adultery is all right as
long as both parties are stoned, not just the woman, because that would mean equality between the sexes.
That would mean, of course, they̢۪ve succeeded in their task of
ensuring equal treatment of the sexes. Who gives a flying fig if their
local tradition then decides to stone the pair of them for having sex
out of wedlock? That̢۪s not the issue here: the equal treatment of
women under the law is the issue here. You know, the idiocy of
some of these people really amazes me. It shouldn̢۪t, I know. I̢۪m
being naïve, but when a woman is about to be stoned for taking part in
consensual sex that---unluckily for Amina---produced evidence of that
affair by means of a child, you̢۪d think they̢۪d say, hey, she
didn̢۪t do a damn thing wrong; she can have sex with a man if she
wants to; she doesn̢۪t have to marry the guy for that. In other words,
they̢۪d bring the situation up to their
standards, but they don̢۪t. That would, obviously, be treading on the
goddess Diversity̢۪s toes, and that they can̢۪t have. There is such a
thing as right and wrong. Yes, I know: I̢۪m asserting my western,
imperialist pig standards on the followers of Shari̢۪a. I̢۪m, of
course, making a major boo-boo by judging the harshness of their
punishments using my own standards of what is and is not barbaric. I
should use their
standards of what is and is not barbaric in this situation, and of
course, under Shari̢۪a, Amina broke the law by sleeping with a man to
whom she was not married. Shame on her and let the stones fly, she
deserves it. Bullshit. The adoption of Shari̢۪a into the northern
provinces of Nigeria is a recent thing. According to the CIA World Factbook
Nigeria declared its independence from the UK in 1960. Their legal
system is based on English Common Law; Shari̢۪a has only been adapted
in the past few years, and only within a few provinces. Their heritage
is pretty much the same as mine: America̢۪s legal system, after all, is
based on English Common Law: we used to be a British colony, too. So,
somewhere along the line, the Nigerians got a goodly taste of a western
tradition. Yes, it̢۪s different than their tribal tradition, but then
if they really thought it was worthless, they would have thrown it out
completely at their independence, wouldn̢۪t they? They didn̢۪t,
however. Shari̢۪a is not part of their common tribal tradition,
either. Which legal system truly speaks for where Nigeria has claimed
it wants to go in the future? Because it sure as hell isn̢۪t the
medieval Inquisition-like institution of Shari̢۪a.
Any way you cut it, stoning someone for adultery is wrong. Not
because it̢۪s a woman who̢۪s being stoned here. I would object to a
man being stoned as well. The who isn̢۪t important: the action,
however, is. To say that stoning is the best way to cut down on
extra-marital affairs; that this is the best solution to keep the
followers of the Islamic faith on the straight and narrow is the
antithesis of what faith is. If you choose to follow a certain
religion, you are in essence saying, I believe in what you preach; I
believe in your version of God, hence I will assume that God will have
faith in me. No matter what problems I have with the Catholic Church, I̢۪ve never felt that my God didn̢۪t have faith in me.
Allah doesn̢۪t seem to have a lot of faith in his followers.
--- My only question is who did this?
It̢۪s obvious it was a direct attack, but there are many possible
culprits. White hatters who think the system is wrong on political
grounds. Black hatters who took it down just for the hell of it. Or a
Palestinian kid in the West Bank who̢۪s in league with either Hamas,
Hizbollah, or Al-Qaeda. --- Catholics and Mormons in agreement.
I know a big ol̢۪ shudder just raced over my body at the shock of it.
How about you?
Coolcentria, eh?
--- And now for something completely different.
How is it possible, in the year 2003, that women are still under the
threat of being stoned? Because that̢۪s what̢۪s going to happen to
Amina Lawal if her appeal fails: she will be buried up to her neck, her
vulnerable head poking out of the dirt, and idiots will be allowed to
throw stones at her until she dies. And what do you want to bet some
idiot will make sure she̢۪s veiled
while this happens? Because, of course, she can̢۪t be causing unseemly
lust in men even while she̢۪s bleeding to death because of a cerebral
hemorrhage caused by a rock hitting her unprotected skull.
“Draconian†doesn’t seem to cover it, does it?
But, amazingly enough, human rights protesters have not chosen to make
the treatment of women under Islam the basis of their protest.
According to the article “â€Â¦most
domestic and international outrage has focused on what many critics say
is the discriminatory nature of sharia's stand on adultery. The male
partner usually escapes injunction.â€
Oh, the old “it takes two to tango†argument. That’s
worthy of protest here? Not the fact that a woman who is illiterate,
who didn̢۪t know she was committing a crime, much less one she was
likely to lose her life over by admitting to, has been found guilty of
adultery and has been sentenced to death by stoning and they̢۪ve got their knickers in a twist over the fact the man isn̢۪t being held accountable too?
What is wrong with these people?
I suppose it must be the we must respect all cultures and the diversity of opinions that are not our own mentality. Yes, there is a time and a place to respect other beliefs and ethnic traditions.
But this isn̢۪t one of them.
NOW denounces the stoning but says "Until
both women and men are treated equally under the law in Nigeria, other
women are certain to be sentenced to death for the 'crime' of becoming
pregnant out of wedlock, even if it is the result of rape." They go on: “Amina Lawal Kurami's sentence is both inhumane and discriminatoryâ€Â¦Ã¢€ Ah, yes. It’s discriminatory. They say it’s inhumane, yes, but the main reason, it seems to me, that they object to Amina’s stoning is because it’s discriminatory. Surely, it’ll stop when men start being accused of this as well.
So, while Amnesty International for
once has the right idea, the leading feminist organization here in the
U.S. seems to imply that stoning people for adultery is all right as
long as both parties are stoned, not just the woman, because that would mean equality between the sexes.
That would mean, of course, they̢۪ve succeeded in their task of
ensuring equal treatment of the sexes. Who gives a flying fig if their
local tradition then decides to stone the pair of them for having sex
out of wedlock? That̢۪s not the issue here: the equal treatment of
women under the law is the issue here. You know, the idiocy of
some of these people really amazes me. It shouldn̢۪t, I know. I̢۪m
being naïve, but when a woman is about to be stoned for taking part in
consensual sex that---unluckily for Amina---produced evidence of that
affair by means of a child, you̢۪d think they̢۪d say, hey, she
didn̢۪t do a damn thing wrong; she can have sex with a man if she
wants to; she doesn̢۪t have to marry the guy for that. In other words,
they̢۪d bring the situation up to their
standards, but they don̢۪t. That would, obviously, be treading on the
goddess Diversity̢۪s toes, and that they can̢۪t have. There is such a
thing as right and wrong. Yes, I know: I̢۪m asserting my western,
imperialist pig standards on the followers of Shari̢۪a. I̢۪m, of
course, making a major boo-boo by judging the harshness of their
punishments using my own standards of what is and is not barbaric. I
should use their
standards of what is and is not barbaric in this situation, and of
course, under Shari̢۪a, Amina broke the law by sleeping with a man to
whom she was not married. Shame on her and let the stones fly, she
deserves it. Bullshit. The adoption of Shari̢۪a into the northern
provinces of Nigeria is a recent thing. According to the CIA World Factbook
Nigeria declared its independence from the UK in 1960. Their legal
system is based on English Common Law; Shari̢۪a has only been adapted
in the past few years, and only within a few provinces. Their heritage
is pretty much the same as mine: America̢۪s legal system, after all, is
based on English Common Law: we used to be a British colony, too. So,
somewhere along the line, the Nigerians got a goodly taste of a western
tradition. Yes, it̢۪s different than their tribal tradition, but then
if they really thought it was worthless, they would have thrown it out
completely at their independence, wouldn̢۪t they? They didn̢۪t,
however. Shari̢۪a is not part of their common tribal tradition,
either. Which legal system truly speaks for where Nigeria has claimed
it wants to go in the future? Because it sure as hell isn̢۪t the
medieval Inquisition-like institution of Shari̢۪a.
Any way you cut it, stoning someone for adultery is wrong. Not
because it̢۪s a woman who̢۪s being stoned here. I would object to a
man being stoned as well. The who isn̢۪t important: the action,
however, is. To say that stoning is the best way to cut down on
extra-marital affairs; that this is the best solution to keep the
followers of the Islamic faith on the straight and narrow is the
antithesis of what faith is. If you choose to follow a certain
religion, you are in essence saying, I believe in what you preach; I
believe in your version of God, hence I will assume that God will have
faith in me. No matter what problems I have with the Catholic Church, I̢۪ve never felt that my God didn̢۪t have faith in me.
Allah doesn̢۪t seem to have a lot of faith in his followers.
--- My only question is who did this?
It̢۪s obvious it was a direct attack, but there are many possible
culprits. White hatters who think the system is wrong on political
grounds. Black hatters who took it down just for the hell of it. Or a
Palestinian kid in the West Bank who̢۪s in league with either Hamas,
Hizbollah, or Al-Qaeda. --- Catholics and Mormons in agreement.
I know a big ol̢۪ shudder just raced over my body at the shock of it.
How about you?
Posted by: Kathy at
02:59 PM
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Post contains 1148 words, total size 8 kb.
--- God, don̢۪t you just
--- God, don̢۪t you just love it when a former Great White Hope endorses another?
Instead of calling it the Old Boys Network, I think they should call it the Great White Hope Network.
--- Go forth and sin no more, and while you̢۪re at it, make sure you pull a few people along with you.
Nine hundred Islamic terrorists, some of whom are responsible for the deaths of fifty-eight
tourists at Luxor in 1997, are being released by the Egyptian
government, including one of their leaders who has espoused
non-violence in recent years, because it “â€Â¦would help the
movement gain a political voice and could strengthen the hand of more
moderate Islamists in the Arab world's most populous country.â€
Yes, the leaders of the group espoused a non-violent stance years ago.
But there was a schism in the group: some rejected the non-violence
stance and went down the Nile to Luxor and decided to bomb western
tourists who wanted to see the glorious ruins of Ancient Egypt. And
we̢۪re supposed to believe, given the current political climate in
Egypt and the rise of fundamentalist Islam all over the world, that all of these guys are going to pull a Ghandi?
What utter bullshit.
“Analysts said it was more likely he {Zuhudi} was released to
allow his more moderate views to influence budding Islamists.â€
Ok. Let̢۪s see if I can come up with a comparable situation. {racking
brain} Ok, got it. Imagine an imprisoned Martin Luther; a Martin Luther
who recanted his 95 Theses in jail. Then imagine the Catholic Church
sending him on a PR mission throughout Germany and Europe, saying the
Reformation shouldn̢۪t have happened; that they should go back to the
Church because he had it wrong and was admitting as much.
Just sink the hook into my mouth a little more and maybe I̢۪ll bite.
To quote that immortal genius of a poet, Wayne Campbell: Sha, right. And monkeys might fly out of my ass.
And this doesn̢۪t even get to the point that some of these assholes murdered fifty-eight people FIVE years ago. Yep. That̢۪s right. They
murdered fifty-eight immoral western tourists to make a point about the
supposed ungodliness of all westerners and their governments and the terrorists
are getting a pass because the Egyptian government can̢۪t control the
spread of militant Islamism. It̢۪s a political move by Mubarak.
Murderers are being set free because Mubarak has no control over
what̢۪s going on in his country. Fabulous.
--- Ok, so I promised movie reviews today, didn̢۪t I?
- Friday night, Mr. H. and I ventured forth after dark and went to go see Underworld.
Mr. H. has a thing for vampires, so this was first on his must see
list. I mean, how can you resist a plot that claims to be about a war
between werewolves and vampires? You can̢۪t. You̢۪d be cutting
yourself out on some very good fun, so why bother? Resistance is
futile. But the notion is there, running rampant around the back of
your brain, that this movie could really suck and you̢۪ll be out eight
bucks and left with nothing but a bad taste in your mouth. I know it
was there for me, but I couldn̢۪t resist the whole notion of vampires
vs. werewolves, so away we went. And you know what? Despite some plot
holes you could have driven a Mack truck through, it was fairly decent.
Performances brought this thing back from the brink: everyone---with
the highly notable exception of Scott Speedman---was good. There was
some plagiarism, as well: they stole the idea of bullets with
ultraviolet light in them from Blade,
but it was ok. You forgave them because it was a good idea---why
shouldn̢۪t the writers have turned it into bullets with silver nitrate
to kill werewolves? - Since the weather had turned cold, the husband
and I decided Saturday night would be a movie night, as well, only with
rentals. - Wasabi
was fun. It̢۪s another film you needed to turn your brain off before
watching, but who cares? No one was trying to make a serious piece of
art with this film. Everyone was on the same page and the result was
delicious. It was fun.
I like Jean Reno. I also enjoy Luc Besson, the writer/director of La Femme Nikita
(no, not the TV show; the original film---if you haven̢۪t seen it,
you̢۪re a slacker whose opinion means nothing to me---you̢۪re the
person who probably quotes Romeo and Juliet only after having seen Shakespeare in Love.
Learn your references.) and when the two of them team up, it̢۪s always
good. - I have a wee bit of a Joe Fiennes fetish, and I can personally
attest to the fact he̢۪s a nice guy, and wanting to support this very
nice man despite the fact there weren̢۪t any critic quotes on the box,
I grabbed Killing Me Softly
on impulse. All I can really say is thank God it was free, because no
one should spend any money on renting this film. I̢۪m seriously
contemplating scratching the DVD with the car keys before I return it
so the next person who rents it is saved from having to watch this
garbage.
I̢۪m going to spoil it for you: it̢۪s So I Married an Axe Murderer
dressed up as a sex thriller. Yep, that̢۪s right: the sister has
possession issues about the brother and decides to off all his lovers,
although he has no clue about that part of it. Supposedly, they expect
us to believe that he̢۪s that dumb. He can climb Everest, but everyone
he̢۪s involved with either dies or disappears and he has no idea that
it̢۪s his sister? Puh-leeze.
Poor Joe. You really shouldn̢۪t have signed up for this piece of
excrement. Ugh. Thanks for showing us your butt, once again, however,
you shouldn̢۪t have. You should have zipped up your pants and ran like
hell from this project. If you̢۪ve got the hots for Heather Graham,
you should know that, once again, she does the full frontal thing in
this movie. (Can you say, “Tax deductible boob job,†boys and
girls?) I honestly am having a hard time trying to figure out why
people keep hiring her. She sucks, to put it bluntly. Sure she̢۪s
pretty, but dear God, she̢۪s horrible.
Ugh. She can̢۪t act her way out of a paper bag. -Since we just finally
got a DVD player this year, every now and again, I rent a movie that
was beautiful on film, sucked on VHS, and would probably be gorgeous
again on DVD. The Last of the Mohicans
is just such a film. I love this movie, but it̢۪s really very annoying
that the only DVD that anyone seems to have is the director̢۪s
expanded edition. I don̢۪t like the expanded edition. I want the regular one that was released in the theater. Yeah, I know. Usually it̢۪s the other way around. Blade Runner and Apocalypse Now Redux
are better films than the originals, showing that most directors know
what they̢۪re talking about when they fight to keep scenes from being
cut. Michael Mann, however, is not one of these directors.
Just scrolling the boards at IMDB, it seems I̢۪m not the only one who
has this problem. One of my favorite lines was cut: “Someday, Major,
you and I are going to have a serious disagreement,†but a bunch of
junk that didn̢۪t need to be there was thrown in for whatever reason.
I can understand why Mann thought the scene where Maj. Heyward created
a distraction to help get the courier to General Webb needed to be
included, because it must have been a bitch to shoot, but it really
didn̢۪t need to be in the movie: it provided nothing essential to the
storyline. What really pissed me off was that they cut Clannad’s “I
Will Find You,†from the film and substituted some lame filler music
for that scene. Mann ruined
it. It went from being a scene where Nathaniel is desperately tracking
the woman he loves, to a scene where he̢۪s just running up a hill.
Grrrrr
Instead of calling it the Old Boys Network, I think they should call it the Great White Hope Network.
--- Go forth and sin no more, and while you̢۪re at it, make sure you pull a few people along with you.
Nine hundred Islamic terrorists, some of whom are responsible for the deaths of fifty-eight
tourists at Luxor in 1997, are being released by the Egyptian
government, including one of their leaders who has espoused
non-violence in recent years, because it “â€Â¦would help the
movement gain a political voice and could strengthen the hand of more
moderate Islamists in the Arab world's most populous country.â€
Yes, the leaders of the group espoused a non-violent stance years ago.
But there was a schism in the group: some rejected the non-violence
stance and went down the Nile to Luxor and decided to bomb western
tourists who wanted to see the glorious ruins of Ancient Egypt. And
we̢۪re supposed to believe, given the current political climate in
Egypt and the rise of fundamentalist Islam all over the world, that all of these guys are going to pull a Ghandi?
What utter bullshit.
“Analysts said it was more likely he {Zuhudi} was released to
allow his more moderate views to influence budding Islamists.â€
Ok. Let̢۪s see if I can come up with a comparable situation. {racking
brain} Ok, got it. Imagine an imprisoned Martin Luther; a Martin Luther
who recanted his 95 Theses in jail. Then imagine the Catholic Church
sending him on a PR mission throughout Germany and Europe, saying the
Reformation shouldn̢۪t have happened; that they should go back to the
Church because he had it wrong and was admitting as much.
Just sink the hook into my mouth a little more and maybe I̢۪ll bite.
To quote that immortal genius of a poet, Wayne Campbell: Sha, right. And monkeys might fly out of my ass.
And this doesn̢۪t even get to the point that some of these assholes murdered fifty-eight people FIVE years ago. Yep. That̢۪s right. They
murdered fifty-eight immoral western tourists to make a point about the
supposed ungodliness of all westerners and their governments and the terrorists
are getting a pass because the Egyptian government can̢۪t control the
spread of militant Islamism. It̢۪s a political move by Mubarak.
Murderers are being set free because Mubarak has no control over
what̢۪s going on in his country. Fabulous.
--- Ok, so I promised movie reviews today, didn̢۪t I?
- Friday night, Mr. H. and I ventured forth after dark and went to go see Underworld.
Mr. H. has a thing for vampires, so this was first on his must see
list. I mean, how can you resist a plot that claims to be about a war
between werewolves and vampires? You can̢۪t. You̢۪d be cutting
yourself out on some very good fun, so why bother? Resistance is
futile. But the notion is there, running rampant around the back of
your brain, that this movie could really suck and you̢۪ll be out eight
bucks and left with nothing but a bad taste in your mouth. I know it
was there for me, but I couldn̢۪t resist the whole notion of vampires
vs. werewolves, so away we went. And you know what? Despite some plot
holes you could have driven a Mack truck through, it was fairly decent.
Performances brought this thing back from the brink: everyone---with
the highly notable exception of Scott Speedman---was good. There was
some plagiarism, as well: they stole the idea of bullets with
ultraviolet light in them from Blade,
but it was ok. You forgave them because it was a good idea---why
shouldn̢۪t the writers have turned it into bullets with silver nitrate
to kill werewolves? - Since the weather had turned cold, the husband
and I decided Saturday night would be a movie night, as well, only with
rentals. - Wasabi
was fun. It̢۪s another film you needed to turn your brain off before
watching, but who cares? No one was trying to make a serious piece of
art with this film. Everyone was on the same page and the result was
delicious. It was fun.
I like Jean Reno. I also enjoy Luc Besson, the writer/director of La Femme Nikita
(no, not the TV show; the original film---if you haven̢۪t seen it,
you̢۪re a slacker whose opinion means nothing to me---you̢۪re the
person who probably quotes Romeo and Juliet only after having seen Shakespeare in Love.
Learn your references.) and when the two of them team up, it̢۪s always
good. - I have a wee bit of a Joe Fiennes fetish, and I can personally
attest to the fact he̢۪s a nice guy, and wanting to support this very
nice man despite the fact there weren̢۪t any critic quotes on the box,
I grabbed Killing Me Softly
on impulse. All I can really say is thank God it was free, because no
one should spend any money on renting this film. I̢۪m seriously
contemplating scratching the DVD with the car keys before I return it
so the next person who rents it is saved from having to watch this
garbage.
I̢۪m going to spoil it for you: it̢۪s So I Married an Axe Murderer
dressed up as a sex thriller. Yep, that̢۪s right: the sister has
possession issues about the brother and decides to off all his lovers,
although he has no clue about that part of it. Supposedly, they expect
us to believe that he̢۪s that dumb. He can climb Everest, but everyone
he̢۪s involved with either dies or disappears and he has no idea that
it̢۪s his sister? Puh-leeze.
Poor Joe. You really shouldn̢۪t have signed up for this piece of
excrement. Ugh. Thanks for showing us your butt, once again, however,
you shouldn̢۪t have. You should have zipped up your pants and ran like
hell from this project. If you̢۪ve got the hots for Heather Graham,
you should know that, once again, she does the full frontal thing in
this movie. (Can you say, “Tax deductible boob job,†boys and
girls?) I honestly am having a hard time trying to figure out why
people keep hiring her. She sucks, to put it bluntly. Sure she̢۪s
pretty, but dear God, she̢۪s horrible.
Ugh. She can̢۪t act her way out of a paper bag. -Since we just finally
got a DVD player this year, every now and again, I rent a movie that
was beautiful on film, sucked on VHS, and would probably be gorgeous
again on DVD. The Last of the Mohicans
is just such a film. I love this movie, but it̢۪s really very annoying
that the only DVD that anyone seems to have is the director̢۪s
expanded edition. I don̢۪t like the expanded edition. I want the regular one that was released in the theater. Yeah, I know. Usually it̢۪s the other way around. Blade Runner and Apocalypse Now Redux
are better films than the originals, showing that most directors know
what they̢۪re talking about when they fight to keep scenes from being
cut. Michael Mann, however, is not one of these directors.
Just scrolling the boards at IMDB, it seems I̢۪m not the only one who
has this problem. One of my favorite lines was cut: “Someday, Major,
you and I are going to have a serious disagreement,†but a bunch of
junk that didn̢۪t need to be there was thrown in for whatever reason.
I can understand why Mann thought the scene where Maj. Heyward created
a distraction to help get the courier to General Webb needed to be
included, because it must have been a bitch to shoot, but it really
didn̢۪t need to be in the movie: it provided nothing essential to the
storyline. What really pissed me off was that they cut Clannad’s “I
Will Find You,†from the film and substituted some lame filler music
for that scene. Mann ruined
it. It went from being a scene where Nathaniel is desperately tracking
the woman he loves, to a scene where he̢۪s just running up a hill.
Grrrrr
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--- But why was Leni
--- But why was Leni chosen to be the whipping girl? Damnit, I still want to know.
This guy asks all the right questions, except for the one that matters most: why was she chosen to take the fall, rather than others?
I think he drops a hint in his admiration for Triumph of Will:
"Triumph of the Will," her portrait of the 1934 National Socialist
Party Congress in Nuremberg, is, without a doubt, one of the greatest
movies ever made. It is also, just as unquestionably, a glorification
of Hitler.
From its shots of round-cheeked German children handing their Führer
flowers, to the breathtaking aerial perspectives of 100,000 massed Nazi
storm troopers, Riefenstahl's film is about elevating Hitler to
godhead. What the camera sees is the unifying power of one Germany, one
Reich, under the leadership of Hitler.
And Riefenstahl had to have seen it, too. She always argued that she
was doing a job, that she was an artist and that she couldn't do
anything other than create art out of what she saw. But when Hitler
mentions God -- and the film cuts to those massive Nazi banners,
billowed by a wind that any malleable German mind might have imagined
came from heaven itself -- there's an intellect at work that knows
exactly what it's doing. And why.
Never mind that the author drops into her mind and claims to know what
she was thinking when she cut to Nazi flags when Hitler talked about
God. Oh, yes. Cutting to the flags, with all of the rich symbolism that
they proclaimed whilst Hitler rambled on about God shows
us what she was really thinkingâ€Â¦it’s obvious, of course. I don’t
know how I could have possibly been so stupid as to think otherwise.
Duh.. I hate to contradict the guy, but it is completely possible
that she cut to the flags because, maybe, she wanted to cut to the
flags and had completely blocked out Hitler̢۪s ramblings by that point
in the editing process. I don̢۪t know, but then I also don̢۪t presume
to know, either. The author seems to presume that Triumph of Will was the singularly best bit of the whole Nazi propaganda machine. I hate to point out, however, Triumph of Will̢۪s
technological prowess contradicts the clumsiness of Goebbels propaganda
machine entirely. Most people assume that Riefenstahl was beholden to
the propaganda machine, so of course she was a part of it, hence
deserving of blame. It̢۪s a debatable point, and I don̢۪t claim to
have the answer. Personally, I can̢۪t imagine, knowing the bunch of
sexist pigs that the Nazis were, that they would trust a woman with the
delivery of their message. But the author does what everyone else is
pleased to do nowadays: throw early 21st Century hindsight onto the
problem. Goebbels̢۪ propaganda was clever, of course, because it worked.
Rubbish.
Ever seen some of the crap Goebbels̢۪ propaganda minions put out? Posters of
big-nosed Jewish men and women who would take everything the average
German trusted away? Translated roughly by the husband, the German text
means that the Jews were the ones who sponsored the war and who kept it
going. This is clever? Germans bought this?
I suspect the reason Riefenstahl was tagged for the job of whipping girl was that the work was too good. Triumph of Will
was precisely that: a triumph of will, with Hitler starring as the
victor and when done in such a technologically stunning way, of course,
that means---particularly when compared with such a crude poster put
out by Goebbels---of course this is the reason Hitler was successful in pulling so many into his flock.
This line of reasoning asks us to pay no mind whatsoever to the German people of the day. They were just sheep. Baaaaaaaaa. They didn̢۪t have a brain in their heads, so of course they were malleable.
Riefenstahl, by no means is innocent in glorifying Hitler and the Nazi
party, but let̢۪s be realistic here. She was not behind the message:
she just filmed it. There̢۪s plenty of blame to go around here.
Hitler; Goebbels; Himmler; Heydrich and his Final Solution; Rommel for
successfully fighting a war that celebrated such garbage; there are too
many to name. But it̢۪s important that we don̢۪t forget the most
important culprit. We musn̢۪t forget the average German who bought into it.
Hitler may have had all the guns in the world, but without a supporting
populace, he would have been a despot without a country: a Napoleon in
Elba.
Place the blame where it most surely lies: on the shoulders of the
average ordinary German who was content to hate people he was told to
hate; the average German who was more than happy to blame his woes on
people who had no fault in creating them in the first place; the
average German who never questioned that maybe this was wrong and who
was vicious in the perceived act of getting evenâ€Â¦even if that act
only required keeping quiet. What more could someone ask for? Benefit
without any work? Damn, that̢۪s a good deal. These are the same
Germans who took over houses Jews were kicked out of. The same Germans
who claimed Jewish businesses as their own and reaped the rewards, and
who, most importantly, kept silent when their neighbors were taken away
in the dead of night to be killed and sometimes subjected to a fate
worse than death in its totality and actuality. These average Germans
of the time are the ones who screamed and shouted and did everything
they could to support Hitler and his idea of who had brought them to
the wrack and ruin they were suffering through; they supported
Hitler̢۪s notion of a state where there would be no Jews if he got his
way. They lined the streets and comprised the cheering audience at
Nuremburg. Riefenstahl just filmed it. Who is more culpable? Still
haven̢۪t figured it out yet. Still don̢۪t know why Riefenstahl was
marked for duty as the whipping girl. And I suspect I won̢۪t ever
know. And that̢۪s sad: all it tells people is that as long as the art
comes out supporting the victor, it will be considered well done and
will be supported. If art is to be taken for art̢۪s sake and art̢۪s
sake alone, Riefenstahl̢۪s case shows us we are in serious trouble as
a civilization; that we haven̢۪t progressed as much as we thought we
had. --- Alias
premiered last night.
Woo-damn-hoo. Sunday nights are worthwhile again! Theories:
1. We won̢۪t find out where Sydney̢۪s been until the last episode of
the season, but I̢۪m sure that little weasel Sloane has something to
do with it. 2. Mamma̢۪s got a brand new bag. What that is, I don̢۪t
know, but I̢۪m sure it̢۪s got something to do with her usual
activities. It̢۪s a wild guess, but it̢۪s within the realm of
possibilities that she had something to do with Sydney̢۪s
disappearance. Mother and daughter together again. I̢۪m not sure that
Daddy̢۪s going to disclose everything he learned about Mamma̢۪s
activities while he was working with her to find Sydney. That̢۪s just
not his style and wouldn̢۪t we be surprised if that cat got out of the
bag, eh? Anyway, Daddy will enjoy lusting after her, I̢۪m sure.
Although, Lena Olin is nowhere to be found on the Alias
website. Hmmmm. The husband will be crushed, I̢۪m sure.
3. I̢۪m a little frustrated that we̢۪re going back to this bogus
ratcheting of the sexual tension between Sydney and Vaughan. He̢۪s
married now, of course, so we are back at square one. Grrrrrr. Not
happy about this development. 4. Sloane̢۪s front is bogus. And I
definitely don̢۪t think the Rambaldi machine just put out the word peace.
Duh. It̢۪s amazing how he puts crap out there and expects people to
buy it. Very funny that it̢۪s a UN sponsored agency that he̢۪s
working for. Irony, perhaps? {insert dry chuckle here}
5. If Sydney̢۪s alive and kicking now, the questions that need to be
answered are: why doesn̢۪t she remember any of it? Who was using her?
(I̢۪m guessing Sloane, but that might be too easy.) And, most
importantly, is she still under their control and doesn̢۪t know
anything about it? Hmmmmm. 6. I̢۪m assuming Sark is still in jail, but
for how long? If Irina is nowhere to be found, and Sloane is reportedly
on the side of the angels, they need a bad guy and Sark is that guy.
Too bad, though; he̢۪s a hottie. I have a sinking suspicion he and
Sydney will hook up in the post-Vaughan aftermath, or he̢۪ll at least
try. I adore this show. It̢۪s good fun. --- Oh, it̢۪s theory time.
Feel free to skip if you̢۪re not in the mood for a little bit of
conspiracy theory. This is the web, after all: conspiracy theories keep
the servers nice and lubricated, so I̢۪ll throw my little bit of K-Y
out there to keep the thing running. Anyway, I̢۪m sure someone̢۪s
already put this out there, so it̢۪s not going to be any big deal. I
think we̢۪ve got a blood feud on our hands that has absolutely nothing
to do with the alleged leaking of the identity of a CIA operative by
the White House. If you want proof, go somewhere else. I have no highly
placed sources in the White House or at Langley: this is just me making
an educated guess. This is completely internal. Bush vs. Tenet: the
deathmatch. It̢۪ll be interesting to see who wins.
You see, I have always wondered how in hell Tenet held onto his job
after 9/11. You have a massive intelligence failure and the Director of
the CIA keeps
his job? How in hell is that possible? Heads have rolled for less in
the past, yet you have the largest and most successful attack on
American soil by enemy combatants since the War of 1812, and the guy
who was supposed to be on the job gets to keep his job? It
makes absolutely no sense. I̢۪ve never bought the argument that has
circulated that it would have been detrimental to the retaliation by
removing the man at the time. Yeah, I can understand about keeping the
coach on in a time of trouble, but if the coach hadn̢۪t won a game the
entire time he was in charge, what̢۪s the point? Let̢۪s see. He was
confirmed by the Senate in 1997. The Embassy bombings in Africa
happened on his watch. The Cole was bombed on his watch. Then you have
hijackings that result in over three thousand dead and the guy gets to keep his job?
What the hell? Tenet is the singular biggest failure in the history of
the CIA and he̢۪s still there, directing the show? How has he managed
to hang on? Why hasn̢۪t Congress called for blood? Sure a few members
have, but there hasn̢۪t been an overwhelming chorus screaming for his
head on a plate, and given the severity of 9/11, and the massive
failure to do anything about preventing it, you would have thought
someone would have been offered up as the sacrificial lamb. Given the
fact Robert Muller started his job as the head of the FBI just a week
before logically he couldn̢۪t be held responsible. So, Tenet was the
obvious choice to please the public, yet nothing happened. The next
question would be why he has managed to hang on. If you go and look at
his biography
on the CIA̢۪s website, you̢۪ll see that he̢۪s covered all the
branches of the government except for the judiciary rather well. He̢۪s
got friends in high places: it would therefore logically follow that
they̢۪re covering his ass rather well. This would be why the emphasis
of the hearings after 9/11 when Tenet testified seemed to focus more on
how underfunded the CIA was; how the failings of the bureaucratic
mindset that has pervaded the CIA workforce prevented the sharing of
intelligence between the FBI and the CIA before 9/11, etc. ad nauseam.
But, you say, Bush can fire Tenet̢۪s ass anytime he chooses. Yes,
that̢۪s technically true. So, why hasn̢۪t he? Personally, I think
Tenet̢۪s too well protected on the Hill, and with the establishment of
the Department of Homeland security, Bush knew he couldn̢۪t really
take on numerous fights at once. He was going to establish the biggest
new bureaucracy in the history of the government, he was going to war
and he needed the money to do both, and he needed Congress to allocate
the money for both. There was no room to take on a well protected head
of the CIA. He also probably thought that a distinct benefit of the
establishment of the Dept. of Homeland Security was that it would
weaken the CIA̢۪s stranglehold on intelligence, effectively reducing
Tenet̢۪s power. It̢۪s also within the realm of possibilities that
Tenet offered to resign later in the administration, perhaps before the
campaign for 2004 really got underway, so Bush could assign someone new
while he had a Republican controlled Senate and Tenet would be able to
start a life on the lecture circuit with at least a few victories under
his belt. But that was before Iraq and the resultant brouhaha over
WMDs. The African uranium connection has been a bigger deal in the UK
than it has been here. Whether that̢۪s because American̢۪s have
shorter spans of attention or not, I have no idea, but the essence of
the argument is that the UK shared the information that Iraq had
possibly bought uranium in Niger. The Brits thought it was true; the
White House, trusting the Brits, put it in the State of the Union; The
CIA says they vetted the speech, but that it slipped through somehow.
So, we have yet another admitted screw-up
by the CIA. A screw-up that makes the administration look particularly
bad, and if it̢۪s as I suppose, Bush quietly told Tenet it was time
for him to get the hell out of dodge and Tenet refused.
Why haven̢۪t we heard anything about this, if this is the case?
Because this White House is leak-proof. The only things that get leaked
are the ones they want
leaked. Everyone that works there is on the same team and it̢۪s
obvious. They know that information is power and they use it: it̢۪s a
much, much different administration than Clinton̢۪s, where everyone
had their own agenda and it was obvious because of the things that
found their way to the papers. For the Bush administration, the media
is a tool to be held tightly in their hands; they don̢۪t trust the
media, like Clinton did. Clinton may have used the media, but they used
him every day of the week and twice on Sundays, and Clinton trusted
them to do so; he believed the old mantra that there was no such thing
as bad publicity. The Bush administration will only be used if it̢۪s
in their interest to be used. If you wanted to do a study on media
whores, I believe you̢۪d find that the Clinton administration
mistakenly thought they had the ultimate control over the media and
that the media would be favorable to them whatever the story; the Bush
administration knows this is not the case, hence they protect
themselves by keeping tight control on the information. It̢۪s possible
for things to happen within the current administration that the
citizenry has absolutely no knowledge about. Can you honestly say that
about Clinton̢۪s administration? I don̢۪t think so; everything found
its way to the media at one point in time or another. So, now we have a
leak, reportedly from a source in the White House, that the former
ambassador to Iraq̢۪s wife was a CIA operative. If this is true, the
question would be why the White House leaked it. I suspect it̢۪s to
make the CIA look bad. Tit for tat. To put a little more pressure on
Tenet to resign. Tenet, obviously, doesn̢۪t want to go. So, what does
he do? He puts the DOJ on the case, and every Democratic presidential
candidate is up and arms about it Like I said, it will be interesting
to see how this plays out. If it turns out the White House was behind
the leak, well, they played their hand poorly,
at the very least. The DOJ could not have been handed a more
uncooperative reporter than Novak. Everyone knows which side of the
fence his loyalties demand he stands on. If he gives up the goods,
I̢۪ll be most surprised. Like I said, it will be interesting to see
how it plays out. It might not go anywhere, it might go all the way.
Who knows at this stage of the game? I suspect, however, that Tenet
will still be standing at the end of the aftermath. Whether or not the
Bush administration will be is another question entirely. --- It was a
movie weekend. I will dutifully report about them tomorrow. --- Oh, and
a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Mr. H. today.
This guy asks all the right questions, except for the one that matters most: why was she chosen to take the fall, rather than others?
I think he drops a hint in his admiration for Triumph of Will:
"Triumph of the Will," her portrait of the 1934 National Socialist
Party Congress in Nuremberg, is, without a doubt, one of the greatest
movies ever made. It is also, just as unquestionably, a glorification
of Hitler.
From its shots of round-cheeked German children handing their Führer
flowers, to the breathtaking aerial perspectives of 100,000 massed Nazi
storm troopers, Riefenstahl's film is about elevating Hitler to
godhead. What the camera sees is the unifying power of one Germany, one
Reich, under the leadership of Hitler.
And Riefenstahl had to have seen it, too. She always argued that she
was doing a job, that she was an artist and that she couldn't do
anything other than create art out of what she saw. But when Hitler
mentions God -- and the film cuts to those massive Nazi banners,
billowed by a wind that any malleable German mind might have imagined
came from heaven itself -- there's an intellect at work that knows
exactly what it's doing. And why.
Never mind that the author drops into her mind and claims to know what
she was thinking when she cut to Nazi flags when Hitler talked about
God. Oh, yes. Cutting to the flags, with all of the rich symbolism that
they proclaimed whilst Hitler rambled on about God shows
us what she was really thinkingâ€Â¦it’s obvious, of course. I don’t
know how I could have possibly been so stupid as to think otherwise.
Duh.. I hate to contradict the guy, but it is completely possible
that she cut to the flags because, maybe, she wanted to cut to the
flags and had completely blocked out Hitler̢۪s ramblings by that point
in the editing process. I don̢۪t know, but then I also don̢۪t presume
to know, either. The author seems to presume that Triumph of Will was the singularly best bit of the whole Nazi propaganda machine. I hate to point out, however, Triumph of Will̢۪s
technological prowess contradicts the clumsiness of Goebbels propaganda
machine entirely. Most people assume that Riefenstahl was beholden to
the propaganda machine, so of course she was a part of it, hence
deserving of blame. It̢۪s a debatable point, and I don̢۪t claim to
have the answer. Personally, I can̢۪t imagine, knowing the bunch of
sexist pigs that the Nazis were, that they would trust a woman with the
delivery of their message. But the author does what everyone else is
pleased to do nowadays: throw early 21st Century hindsight onto the
problem. Goebbels̢۪ propaganda was clever, of course, because it worked.
Rubbish.
Ever seen some of the crap Goebbels̢۪ propaganda minions put out? Posters of
big-nosed Jewish men and women who would take everything the average
German trusted away? Translated roughly by the husband, the German text
means that the Jews were the ones who sponsored the war and who kept it
going. This is clever? Germans bought this?
I suspect the reason Riefenstahl was tagged for the job of whipping girl was that the work was too good. Triumph of Will
was precisely that: a triumph of will, with Hitler starring as the
victor and when done in such a technologically stunning way, of course,
that means---particularly when compared with such a crude poster put
out by Goebbels---of course this is the reason Hitler was successful in pulling so many into his flock.
This line of reasoning asks us to pay no mind whatsoever to the German people of the day. They were just sheep. Baaaaaaaaa. They didn̢۪t have a brain in their heads, so of course they were malleable.
Riefenstahl, by no means is innocent in glorifying Hitler and the Nazi
party, but let̢۪s be realistic here. She was not behind the message:
she just filmed it. There̢۪s plenty of blame to go around here.
Hitler; Goebbels; Himmler; Heydrich and his Final Solution; Rommel for
successfully fighting a war that celebrated such garbage; there are too
many to name. But it̢۪s important that we don̢۪t forget the most
important culprit. We musn̢۪t forget the average German who bought into it.
Hitler may have had all the guns in the world, but without a supporting
populace, he would have been a despot without a country: a Napoleon in
Elba.
Place the blame where it most surely lies: on the shoulders of the
average ordinary German who was content to hate people he was told to
hate; the average German who was more than happy to blame his woes on
people who had no fault in creating them in the first place; the
average German who never questioned that maybe this was wrong and who
was vicious in the perceived act of getting evenâ€Â¦even if that act
only required keeping quiet. What more could someone ask for? Benefit
without any work? Damn, that̢۪s a good deal. These are the same
Germans who took over houses Jews were kicked out of. The same Germans
who claimed Jewish businesses as their own and reaped the rewards, and
who, most importantly, kept silent when their neighbors were taken away
in the dead of night to be killed and sometimes subjected to a fate
worse than death in its totality and actuality. These average Germans
of the time are the ones who screamed and shouted and did everything
they could to support Hitler and his idea of who had brought them to
the wrack and ruin they were suffering through; they supported
Hitler̢۪s notion of a state where there would be no Jews if he got his
way. They lined the streets and comprised the cheering audience at
Nuremburg. Riefenstahl just filmed it. Who is more culpable? Still
haven̢۪t figured it out yet. Still don̢۪t know why Riefenstahl was
marked for duty as the whipping girl. And I suspect I won̢۪t ever
know. And that̢۪s sad: all it tells people is that as long as the art
comes out supporting the victor, it will be considered well done and
will be supported. If art is to be taken for art̢۪s sake and art̢۪s
sake alone, Riefenstahl̢۪s case shows us we are in serious trouble as
a civilization; that we haven̢۪t progressed as much as we thought we
had. --- Alias
premiered last night.
Woo-damn-hoo. Sunday nights are worthwhile again! Theories:
1. We won̢۪t find out where Sydney̢۪s been until the last episode of
the season, but I̢۪m sure that little weasel Sloane has something to
do with it. 2. Mamma̢۪s got a brand new bag. What that is, I don̢۪t
know, but I̢۪m sure it̢۪s got something to do with her usual
activities. It̢۪s a wild guess, but it̢۪s within the realm of
possibilities that she had something to do with Sydney̢۪s
disappearance. Mother and daughter together again. I̢۪m not sure that
Daddy̢۪s going to disclose everything he learned about Mamma̢۪s
activities while he was working with her to find Sydney. That̢۪s just
not his style and wouldn̢۪t we be surprised if that cat got out of the
bag, eh? Anyway, Daddy will enjoy lusting after her, I̢۪m sure.
Although, Lena Olin is nowhere to be found on the Alias
website. Hmmmm. The husband will be crushed, I̢۪m sure.
3. I̢۪m a little frustrated that we̢۪re going back to this bogus
ratcheting of the sexual tension between Sydney and Vaughan. He̢۪s
married now, of course, so we are back at square one. Grrrrrr. Not
happy about this development. 4. Sloane̢۪s front is bogus. And I
definitely don̢۪t think the Rambaldi machine just put out the word peace.
Duh. It̢۪s amazing how he puts crap out there and expects people to
buy it. Very funny that it̢۪s a UN sponsored agency that he̢۪s
working for. Irony, perhaps? {insert dry chuckle here}
5. If Sydney̢۪s alive and kicking now, the questions that need to be
answered are: why doesn̢۪t she remember any of it? Who was using her?
(I̢۪m guessing Sloane, but that might be too easy.) And, most
importantly, is she still under their control and doesn̢۪t know
anything about it? Hmmmmm. 6. I̢۪m assuming Sark is still in jail, but
for how long? If Irina is nowhere to be found, and Sloane is reportedly
on the side of the angels, they need a bad guy and Sark is that guy.
Too bad, though; he̢۪s a hottie. I have a sinking suspicion he and
Sydney will hook up in the post-Vaughan aftermath, or he̢۪ll at least
try. I adore this show. It̢۪s good fun. --- Oh, it̢۪s theory time.
Feel free to skip if you̢۪re not in the mood for a little bit of
conspiracy theory. This is the web, after all: conspiracy theories keep
the servers nice and lubricated, so I̢۪ll throw my little bit of K-Y
out there to keep the thing running. Anyway, I̢۪m sure someone̢۪s
already put this out there, so it̢۪s not going to be any big deal. I
think we̢۪ve got a blood feud on our hands that has absolutely nothing
to do with the alleged leaking of the identity of a CIA operative by
the White House. If you want proof, go somewhere else. I have no highly
placed sources in the White House or at Langley: this is just me making
an educated guess. This is completely internal. Bush vs. Tenet: the
deathmatch. It̢۪ll be interesting to see who wins.
You see, I have always wondered how in hell Tenet held onto his job
after 9/11. You have a massive intelligence failure and the Director of
the CIA keeps
his job? How in hell is that possible? Heads have rolled for less in
the past, yet you have the largest and most successful attack on
American soil by enemy combatants since the War of 1812, and the guy
who was supposed to be on the job gets to keep his job? It
makes absolutely no sense. I̢۪ve never bought the argument that has
circulated that it would have been detrimental to the retaliation by
removing the man at the time. Yeah, I can understand about keeping the
coach on in a time of trouble, but if the coach hadn̢۪t won a game the
entire time he was in charge, what̢۪s the point? Let̢۪s see. He was
confirmed by the Senate in 1997. The Embassy bombings in Africa
happened on his watch. The Cole was bombed on his watch. Then you have
hijackings that result in over three thousand dead and the guy gets to keep his job?
What the hell? Tenet is the singular biggest failure in the history of
the CIA and he̢۪s still there, directing the show? How has he managed
to hang on? Why hasn̢۪t Congress called for blood? Sure a few members
have, but there hasn̢۪t been an overwhelming chorus screaming for his
head on a plate, and given the severity of 9/11, and the massive
failure to do anything about preventing it, you would have thought
someone would have been offered up as the sacrificial lamb. Given the
fact Robert Muller started his job as the head of the FBI just a week
before logically he couldn̢۪t be held responsible. So, Tenet was the
obvious choice to please the public, yet nothing happened. The next
question would be why he has managed to hang on. If you go and look at
his biography
on the CIA̢۪s website, you̢۪ll see that he̢۪s covered all the
branches of the government except for the judiciary rather well. He̢۪s
got friends in high places: it would therefore logically follow that
they̢۪re covering his ass rather well. This would be why the emphasis
of the hearings after 9/11 when Tenet testified seemed to focus more on
how underfunded the CIA was; how the failings of the bureaucratic
mindset that has pervaded the CIA workforce prevented the sharing of
intelligence between the FBI and the CIA before 9/11, etc. ad nauseam.
But, you say, Bush can fire Tenet̢۪s ass anytime he chooses. Yes,
that̢۪s technically true. So, why hasn̢۪t he? Personally, I think
Tenet̢۪s too well protected on the Hill, and with the establishment of
the Department of Homeland security, Bush knew he couldn̢۪t really
take on numerous fights at once. He was going to establish the biggest
new bureaucracy in the history of the government, he was going to war
and he needed the money to do both, and he needed Congress to allocate
the money for both. There was no room to take on a well protected head
of the CIA. He also probably thought that a distinct benefit of the
establishment of the Dept. of Homeland Security was that it would
weaken the CIA̢۪s stranglehold on intelligence, effectively reducing
Tenet̢۪s power. It̢۪s also within the realm of possibilities that
Tenet offered to resign later in the administration, perhaps before the
campaign for 2004 really got underway, so Bush could assign someone new
while he had a Republican controlled Senate and Tenet would be able to
start a life on the lecture circuit with at least a few victories under
his belt. But that was before Iraq and the resultant brouhaha over
WMDs. The African uranium connection has been a bigger deal in the UK
than it has been here. Whether that̢۪s because American̢۪s have
shorter spans of attention or not, I have no idea, but the essence of
the argument is that the UK shared the information that Iraq had
possibly bought uranium in Niger. The Brits thought it was true; the
White House, trusting the Brits, put it in the State of the Union; The
CIA says they vetted the speech, but that it slipped through somehow.
So, we have yet another admitted screw-up
by the CIA. A screw-up that makes the administration look particularly
bad, and if it̢۪s as I suppose, Bush quietly told Tenet it was time
for him to get the hell out of dodge and Tenet refused.
Why haven̢۪t we heard anything about this, if this is the case?
Because this White House is leak-proof. The only things that get leaked
are the ones they want
leaked. Everyone that works there is on the same team and it̢۪s
obvious. They know that information is power and they use it: it̢۪s a
much, much different administration than Clinton̢۪s, where everyone
had their own agenda and it was obvious because of the things that
found their way to the papers. For the Bush administration, the media
is a tool to be held tightly in their hands; they don̢۪t trust the
media, like Clinton did. Clinton may have used the media, but they used
him every day of the week and twice on Sundays, and Clinton trusted
them to do so; he believed the old mantra that there was no such thing
as bad publicity. The Bush administration will only be used if it̢۪s
in their interest to be used. If you wanted to do a study on media
whores, I believe you̢۪d find that the Clinton administration
mistakenly thought they had the ultimate control over the media and
that the media would be favorable to them whatever the story; the Bush
administration knows this is not the case, hence they protect
themselves by keeping tight control on the information. It̢۪s possible
for things to happen within the current administration that the
citizenry has absolutely no knowledge about. Can you honestly say that
about Clinton̢۪s administration? I don̢۪t think so; everything found
its way to the media at one point in time or another. So, now we have a
leak, reportedly from a source in the White House, that the former
ambassador to Iraq̢۪s wife was a CIA operative. If this is true, the
question would be why the White House leaked it. I suspect it̢۪s to
make the CIA look bad. Tit for tat. To put a little more pressure on
Tenet to resign. Tenet, obviously, doesn̢۪t want to go. So, what does
he do? He puts the DOJ on the case, and every Democratic presidential
candidate is up and arms about it Like I said, it will be interesting
to see how this plays out. If it turns out the White House was behind
the leak, well, they played their hand poorly,
at the very least. The DOJ could not have been handed a more
uncooperative reporter than Novak. Everyone knows which side of the
fence his loyalties demand he stands on. If he gives up the goods,
I̢۪ll be most surprised. Like I said, it will be interesting to see
how it plays out. It might not go anywhere, it might go all the way.
Who knows at this stage of the game? I suspect, however, that Tenet
will still be standing at the end of the aftermath. Whether or not the
Bush administration will be is another question entirely. --- It was a
movie weekend. I will dutifully report about them tomorrow. --- Oh, and
a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Mr. H. today.
Posted by: Kathy at
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Post contains 2871 words, total size 19 kb.
--- The husband and I
--- The husband and I are weird. We name our computers. Mine, aptly enough, is called Wee Bastard.
The history behind this name is not hard to figure out: the damn thing
was a bastard for about the first year it was mine to work with.
Instead of being compensated for his work in cold hard cash, the
husband sometimes receives computers. We have three in the office:
we̢۪ve paid for one. Wee Bastard is an Compaq Armada E500 that was
originally purchased in Kuwait, and when it became readily apparent the
husband had been screwed over by his Kuwaiti business partners, he kept
the laptop and found a new job. Wee Bastard was originally installed
with the Arabic Enabled version of Windows 98. Not only did it have
English characters on the keyboard, it also had Arabic characters on
the keyboard. As a result, it should have been admitted into a mental
hospital. One minute I’d be typing away in Word and then the nextâ€Â¦presto chango!â€Â¦the
cursor would abruptly be going right to left and there would be a page
or so worth of Arabic characters. Ugh. Then it would crash. As soon as
you̢۪d have it up and running again, it would, inexplicably, crash
again. So, you might be able to see how the laptop acquired its
nickname. However, ever since the husband installed XP Pro on the
beast, it̢۪s worked just fine. No more ctrl-alt-del ten times a day.
No more lost data. It seemed, the minute the Arabic was wiped from the
system, it worked just fine. That was two years ago, and with the
exception of a two crashes, one dead keyboard and one battery
replacement, it̢۪s been fine. That is, until the past few days. It̢۪s
hot. Damn hot! How hot is it, Kathy? you ask? Hot
enough that I can feel the heat on my legs through the pillow that acts
as a workspace when I̢۪m on the couch. It̢۪s also loud. The fan runs
all the time, and as a result, it slows down the processor and it takes
twenty or thirty seconds before words appear on the screen as a result.
Not good. So, currently the husband has Wee Bastard disassembled on the
dining room table and is cleaning the sucker out. I̢۪m on his
computer---Gandalf---the one with the funky keyboard that makes me
commit unforced typos, and keep your fingers crossed, maybe his
machinations will work. --- Well, at least they found a technicality to
get her off.
Doesn̢۪t really matter, I guess, that the reason she got off was that the original ruling
"is not consonant with the laws of Katsina state because the police did
not arrest the suspects when they committed the offence." She got
off, that̢۪s what̢۪s important. Although, I wish they̢۪d have let
her off because stoning someone for adultery is wrong, and not because
of a technicality. It got Amina off the hook, and for that I̢۪m glad,
but it̢۪s like when you get a math problem correct, but not because
you did the math correctly. I wish they would have come to the correct
answer in the correct way. But, then again, I̢۪m asserting my western,
imperialist pig standards where they shouldn̢۪t be asserted.
--- When is this guy going to shut his damn mouth?
Oh, come and invest in Italy because we have the most beautiful secretaries in the world?
Puhleeze.
--- Here̢۪s your Chuckle for the Day.
Talk about some serious faith, eh?
The history behind this name is not hard to figure out: the damn thing
was a bastard for about the first year it was mine to work with.
Instead of being compensated for his work in cold hard cash, the
husband sometimes receives computers. We have three in the office:
we̢۪ve paid for one. Wee Bastard is an Compaq Armada E500 that was
originally purchased in Kuwait, and when it became readily apparent the
husband had been screwed over by his Kuwaiti business partners, he kept
the laptop and found a new job. Wee Bastard was originally installed
with the Arabic Enabled version of Windows 98. Not only did it have
English characters on the keyboard, it also had Arabic characters on
the keyboard. As a result, it should have been admitted into a mental
hospital. One minute I’d be typing away in Word and then the nextâ€Â¦presto chango!â€Â¦the
cursor would abruptly be going right to left and there would be a page
or so worth of Arabic characters. Ugh. Then it would crash. As soon as
you̢۪d have it up and running again, it would, inexplicably, crash
again. So, you might be able to see how the laptop acquired its
nickname. However, ever since the husband installed XP Pro on the
beast, it̢۪s worked just fine. No more ctrl-alt-del ten times a day.
No more lost data. It seemed, the minute the Arabic was wiped from the
system, it worked just fine. That was two years ago, and with the
exception of a two crashes, one dead keyboard and one battery
replacement, it̢۪s been fine. That is, until the past few days. It̢۪s
hot. Damn hot! How hot is it, Kathy? you ask? Hot
enough that I can feel the heat on my legs through the pillow that acts
as a workspace when I̢۪m on the couch. It̢۪s also loud. The fan runs
all the time, and as a result, it slows down the processor and it takes
twenty or thirty seconds before words appear on the screen as a result.
Not good. So, currently the husband has Wee Bastard disassembled on the
dining room table and is cleaning the sucker out. I̢۪m on his
computer---Gandalf---the one with the funky keyboard that makes me
commit unforced typos, and keep your fingers crossed, maybe his
machinations will work. --- Well, at least they found a technicality to
get her off.
Doesn̢۪t really matter, I guess, that the reason she got off was that the original ruling
"is not consonant with the laws of Katsina state because the police did
not arrest the suspects when they committed the offence." She got
off, that̢۪s what̢۪s important. Although, I wish they̢۪d have let
her off because stoning someone for adultery is wrong, and not because
of a technicality. It got Amina off the hook, and for that I̢۪m glad,
but it̢۪s like when you get a math problem correct, but not because
you did the math correctly. I wish they would have come to the correct
answer in the correct way. But, then again, I̢۪m asserting my western,
imperialist pig standards where they shouldn̢۪t be asserted.
--- When is this guy going to shut his damn mouth?
Oh, come and invest in Italy because we have the most beautiful secretaries in the world?
Puhleeze.
--- Here̢۪s your Chuckle for the Day.
Talk about some serious faith, eh?
Posted by: Kathy at
02:48 PM
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Post contains 592 words, total size 4 kb.
Since I rambled on at
Since I rambled on at length yesterday, and am liable to do it again
before the week is out, I̢۪m going to try to keep it short and sweet today. I gots other stuff to do.
Also, the husband has disc one from Led Zeppelin̢۪s box set playing in
the Cake Eater Office right now, and while I like it, the resultant
headbanging is not really conducive to clear and effective thinking.
--- Gasp in awe and wonder at the shock of it. We have Multiple Chuckle of the Day̢۪s today.
- Reality TV shows-2,435,123. Common Sense-1. People who hate "American Idol" UNITE!
Can I move to Cambodia? Pretty please with sugar and a cherry and hot fudge on top?
- Where̢۪s it been all these years?
I don̢۪t know if I̢۪d want to see what was in a suitcase belonging to
the husband in his single years. It would probably be jam-packed with
condoms. But---then again---perhaps it would finally solve the mystery
of the long lost one-hitter? - And a Chuckle of the Day for
the Cake Eater Chronicles' only reader in France. Our lone French
reader is one of those disgustingly clever trilingual people who makes
her living as a professional translator. I can only imagine what
she̢۪ll have to say about this. If it̢۪s really good, which
undoubtedly it will be, I̢۪ll pass it along. --- I don̢۪t care if
it̢۪s a PR ploy to sell movie tickets! I really, really don̢۪t.
I̢۪m sure Bill the Cat is happy for his puffin-like friend though, and I will echo his sentiments in my elation.
Aaaack Thppt!
--- I hope the afterlife treats her better than life on Earth did.
No need to freak out. I know what she did and I think it abhorrent, so
just don̢۪t go there. For me, Leni̢۪s interesting in that she was one
of the few German citizens who actually had to pay a price for their
support of the Third Reich. Let̢۪s face it: most were allowed to crawl
back into obscurity, as if their support of Hitler and his cronies,
while assuredly less prominent than hers, was like that lost season of Dallas.
(It was all a dream, Pam.) After all, she only filmed the Nuremberg
rallies: they just lined the streets and cheered on their conquering
hero. Most Germans were not forced to pay a price for their
disillusionment: she was, and I find the idea of that interesting. And
it̢۪s possible we̢۪ll never know why she was chosen to be the
whipping boy when there were so many other qualified candidates for the
job. I saw Triumph of Will, in one of my history classes back in
college and I have to agree with the critics when they say it was a
technically brilliant piece that was disgusting in its subject matter.
It was brilliant. It̢۪s a stunning piece of work that broke new ground in filmmaking, much like Birth of a Nation
did, which, for all intents and purposes, when viewed in today̢۪s
context, is a Klan recruitment film. D.W. Griffiths died long before it
became readily apparent how abhorrent his political views were. Leni
lived to a ripe old age and had to live with the infamy of the subject
matter she̢۪d celebrated, while her technological achievements were,
for the most part, ignored. I suppose this is one of the reasons why I
don̢۪t like ideology mixed in with my art. It makes it very hard to
defend the art when the ideology is proven to be bassackwards and
downright violent. But that̢۪s really beside the point and has been
commented on by people far more interesting to read than myself. A few
years back, I read a much celebrated book called Hitler̢۪s Willing Executioners
by Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, and it was fascinating. For his doctoral
dissertation, he̢۪d gone and researched how prevalent anti-Semitism
was in everyday German society, and how the average German citizen
willingly played a role in the Holocaust, and he̢۪d done it in a
clever and well-researched way: he went to the police blotters. By
tracking down the average, well documented infringement (those crazy
Germans and their love of paperwork), he was able to prove that
ordinary German citizens of the time were not ignorant of what their
government was doing in regards to Jews; that they could not claim
ignorance as a defense, which they always did because, honestly, there
was no foolproof method of checking up on it. But I didn̢۪t know! And what could I have done about it anyway? They would have killed me.
This book was a revolutionary way of disproving the accepted notion
that the German populace really had nothing to do with any of it and
couldn̢۪t have stopped it if they̢۪d tried. The book was way too
late, in the scheme of history, to change anything, but it was
interesting nonetheless because it proved what most already knew: that
ignorance wasn̢۪t a defense; that most Germans were behind Hitler all
along. Leni was never allowed this luxurious defense.
I find her case to be fascinating, not for her films, but because no
one ever bought her arguments that she didn̢۪t know how bad the Nazis
really were. Most everyone else was let off the hook, but not her. She
was one of the very few forced to pay a price after the war for her
support of the Nazis. I don̢۪t know if this hypocrisy is because she
kept opening her mouth to defend her work and subsequently it was
implied she supported the subject matter still. It̢۪s completely
possible. Perhaps it was because she was an easy target in that she was
a woman. Of
course, she was sleeping with Hitler, didn̢۪t you know? She had to
have been! No one would have given her a job in the first place if she
hadn̢۪t. . Whatever it was, she was never let off the hook, like
some other prominent Germans were, such as Karl Orff. I still hear the Carmina Burana
on our very politically correct classical music station at least once a
week. Never does the announcer separate the music from the ideology
that was behind it. They don't feel the need to. For them, it's a
beautiful, stirring piece of music that just happened to be composed
during the Nazi era. Now flip the coin. When was the last time anyone
saw Triumph of Will outside of an academic setting without numerous disclaimers attached?
Orff defended his work, just like Leni did. Why are their two cases so dramatically different in outcome?
before the week is out, I̢۪m going to try to keep it short and sweet today. I gots other stuff to do.
Also, the husband has disc one from Led Zeppelin̢۪s box set playing in
the Cake Eater Office right now, and while I like it, the resultant
headbanging is not really conducive to clear and effective thinking.
--- Gasp in awe and wonder at the shock of it. We have Multiple Chuckle of the Day̢۪s today.
- Reality TV shows-2,435,123. Common Sense-1. People who hate "American Idol" UNITE!
Can I move to Cambodia? Pretty please with sugar and a cherry and hot fudge on top?
- Where̢۪s it been all these years?
I don̢۪t know if I̢۪d want to see what was in a suitcase belonging to
the husband in his single years. It would probably be jam-packed with
condoms. But---then again---perhaps it would finally solve the mystery
of the long lost one-hitter? - And a Chuckle of the Day for
the Cake Eater Chronicles' only reader in France. Our lone French
reader is one of those disgustingly clever trilingual people who makes
her living as a professional translator. I can only imagine what
she̢۪ll have to say about this. If it̢۪s really good, which
undoubtedly it will be, I̢۪ll pass it along. --- I don̢۪t care if
it̢۪s a PR ploy to sell movie tickets! I really, really don̢۪t.
I̢۪m sure Bill the Cat is happy for his puffin-like friend though, and I will echo his sentiments in my elation.
Aaaack Thppt!
--- I hope the afterlife treats her better than life on Earth did.
No need to freak out. I know what she did and I think it abhorrent, so
just don̢۪t go there. For me, Leni̢۪s interesting in that she was one
of the few German citizens who actually had to pay a price for their
support of the Third Reich. Let̢۪s face it: most were allowed to crawl
back into obscurity, as if their support of Hitler and his cronies,
while assuredly less prominent than hers, was like that lost season of Dallas.
(It was all a dream, Pam.) After all, she only filmed the Nuremberg
rallies: they just lined the streets and cheered on their conquering
hero. Most Germans were not forced to pay a price for their
disillusionment: she was, and I find the idea of that interesting. And
it̢۪s possible we̢۪ll never know why she was chosen to be the
whipping boy when there were so many other qualified candidates for the
job. I saw Triumph of Will, in one of my history classes back in
college and I have to agree with the critics when they say it was a
technically brilliant piece that was disgusting in its subject matter.
It was brilliant. It̢۪s a stunning piece of work that broke new ground in filmmaking, much like Birth of a Nation
did, which, for all intents and purposes, when viewed in today̢۪s
context, is a Klan recruitment film. D.W. Griffiths died long before it
became readily apparent how abhorrent his political views were. Leni
lived to a ripe old age and had to live with the infamy of the subject
matter she̢۪d celebrated, while her technological achievements were,
for the most part, ignored. I suppose this is one of the reasons why I
don̢۪t like ideology mixed in with my art. It makes it very hard to
defend the art when the ideology is proven to be bassackwards and
downright violent. But that̢۪s really beside the point and has been
commented on by people far more interesting to read than myself. A few
years back, I read a much celebrated book called Hitler̢۪s Willing Executioners
by Daniel Jonah Goldhagen, and it was fascinating. For his doctoral
dissertation, he̢۪d gone and researched how prevalent anti-Semitism
was in everyday German society, and how the average German citizen
willingly played a role in the Holocaust, and he̢۪d done it in a
clever and well-researched way: he went to the police blotters. By
tracking down the average, well documented infringement (those crazy
Germans and their love of paperwork), he was able to prove that
ordinary German citizens of the time were not ignorant of what their
government was doing in regards to Jews; that they could not claim
ignorance as a defense, which they always did because, honestly, there
was no foolproof method of checking up on it. But I didn̢۪t know! And what could I have done about it anyway? They would have killed me.
This book was a revolutionary way of disproving the accepted notion
that the German populace really had nothing to do with any of it and
couldn̢۪t have stopped it if they̢۪d tried. The book was way too
late, in the scheme of history, to change anything, but it was
interesting nonetheless because it proved what most already knew: that
ignorance wasn̢۪t a defense; that most Germans were behind Hitler all
along. Leni was never allowed this luxurious defense.
I find her case to be fascinating, not for her films, but because no
one ever bought her arguments that she didn̢۪t know how bad the Nazis
really were. Most everyone else was let off the hook, but not her. She
was one of the very few forced to pay a price after the war for her
support of the Nazis. I don̢۪t know if this hypocrisy is because she
kept opening her mouth to defend her work and subsequently it was
implied she supported the subject matter still. It̢۪s completely
possible. Perhaps it was because she was an easy target in that she was
a woman. Of
course, she was sleeping with Hitler, didn̢۪t you know? She had to
have been! No one would have given her a job in the first place if she
hadn̢۪t. . Whatever it was, she was never let off the hook, like
some other prominent Germans were, such as Karl Orff. I still hear the Carmina Burana
on our very politically correct classical music station at least once a
week. Never does the announcer separate the music from the ideology
that was behind it. They don't feel the need to. For them, it's a
beautiful, stirring piece of music that just happened to be composed
during the Nazi era. Now flip the coin. When was the last time anyone
saw Triumph of Will outside of an academic setting without numerous disclaimers attached?
Orff defended his work, just like Leni did. Why are their two cases so dramatically different in outcome?
Posted by: Kathy at
02:30 PM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 1110 words, total size 7 kb.
--- Oooooooooh, these people just
--- Oooooooooh, these people just piss me off!
@#$##@@%$%$%%@@##$^&%#$@!
I'm so tempted to pull a Travis Bickle here and start asking, "How dumb
do you think I am?" repeatedly. But I won't. I will only say this much
and I'm not going to mince words: if you sign up for the RIAA's
amnesty, you're a fool. It would be the equivalent of a sheep going up
and knocking on the wolf's door and saying, "Hey, how ya doing? You
want to take a big old chunk out of my ass? That's the tastiest part of
me! ENJOY!"
@#$##@@%$%$%%@@##$^&%#$@!
I'm so tempted to pull a Travis Bickle here and start asking, "How dumb
do you think I am?" repeatedly. But I won't. I will only say this much
and I'm not going to mince words: if you sign up for the RIAA's
amnesty, you're a fool. It would be the equivalent of a sheep going up
and knocking on the wolf's door and saying, "Hey, how ya doing? You
want to take a big old chunk out of my ass? That's the tastiest part of
me! ENJOY!"
Posted by: Kathy at
02:11 PM
| No Comments
| Add Comment
Post contains 107 words, total size 1 kb.
--- Here̢۪s a good Chuckle
--- Here̢۪s a good Chuckle of the Day
Slobo̢۪s self-righteousness never ceases to amaze me.
--- But wait, there̢۪s more.
Oh, man. I so
wish I could have been a fly on the wall of that dressing room. {Insert
indelicate snort of serious amusement here} Beauty queens freaking out
left and right. Priceless.
--Does anyone else think this is a tad too suspicious for comfort?
I̢۪m having a hard time wrapping my head around the notion no one
thinks this, or the other instances, could possibly be a form of
terrorism. They̢۪re very quick to deny it, aren̢۪t they? But they
don̢۪t seem to do any investigating. The ships are disinfected too
quickly for that. Yet another virus storms a cruise ship and its
inhabitants? This is what, the third or fourth time this has happened?
Hundreds of international passengers, who board and then get off at
many different ports, contained on a ship, living in close quarters
with air conditioning systems that pass recirculated air all over, so
it̢۪s hard to track down patient zero? And that̢۪s only if patient
zero is still on board the ship when it becomes apparent that people
are dropping like flies? And no one is investigating this? Hmmmm.
Something just ain̢۪t right here, kids, and you don̢۪t have to be Fox
Mulder to come to that conclusion. Germ warfare doesn̢۪t necessarily
have to involve deadly viruses, like smallpox or anthrax, to be
considered exactly that. Warfare does not implicitly imply that your
enemies must be annihilated: a few must always live to tell the tale.
We seem to forget in this day and age that a bullet fired in war has
just as much of a chance of maiming you as it does of killing you. We
tend to focus on the bright side of things: they lived, praise God.
Well, that̢۪s all well and good and I̢۪m happy for you, but you̢۪re
missing the point. Warfare is at its optimal operating procedure if your enemy has no clue that you̢۪re actually waging war against them.
You may be denied the glory that comes with success in your mission,
but you̢۪ll still be alive at the end of the day to fight another
battle with no one the wiser. Why do we always need to have someone
claim responsibility when something bad happens? More importantly, why
are we so sure that nothing bad has happened unless someone
steps up and claims the blame? Because, remember, sometimes, in some
people̢۪s twisted minds, when they fire a gun or set off a virus, the
maiming that results is actually the better outcome: the victim̢۪s
alive and they have the rest of their lives to ponder the whole
situation. It seems a relatively easy---and cheap---thing to put
someone on board a ship who̢۪s ill and just let nature take its
course. Why are we assuming this is so harmless?
I completely understand I might be making a mountain out of a molehill,
but this just seems odd to me. How often did this happen before 9/11?
---Relatively uneventful Labor Day weekend here. Nice weather, though.
So, while all of our friends were out of town, some enjoying family
visits, others enjoying amusement parks and museums in Chicago, the
husband and I took a few walks around the Lake Harriet and enjoyed
ourselves tremendously. It was quiet, relatively empty because it seems
most people were out of town, sunny and a nice breeze was blowing off
the lake.
I can̢۪t think of a better way to enjoy what is heralded incessantly
as the last weekend of summer. It was also nice that everyone was out
of town because we were able to rent some movies that we hadn̢۪t been
able to put our grubby little paws on when it was ninety-five outside.
Quickie Reviews for the Day:
The Two Towers
: Now, after Friday̢۪s blog, can you believe that I would rent such a
thing? And I was the instigator here, not the husband. But I was in the
mood for it, and man, I̢۪m telling you, if you don̢۪t have a Dolby
5.1 Surround Sound home theater installed in your house, you̢۪re missing something really, really good.
Particularly with these films. The sound is just incredible. We just
upgraded our TV and finally bought a DVD player back in March after
watching TV for years on the husband̢۪s old TV/VCR combo bought in
1989, thinking those items were finally cheap enough to purchase and
that they would last for a while. And it has proven itself to be
worthwhile in the extreme, despite the fact the husband put his foot
through the ceiling while laying the speaker wire for the surround
sound. The Two Towers is definitely the middle of the trilogy. It has
all the hallmarks of a masterful story arc: conflict, drama, scattered
characters, an uncertain outcome. To put it simply: it̢۪s The Empire Strikes Back with the conflict ending on the back road to Mordor, instead of in the Cloud City on Bespin.
I feel for Frodo. Poor widdle̢۪ hobbit.
And I̢۪m definitely looking forward to Return of the King
in December. If Peter Jackson gets the shaft at the Oscars again next
year, I̢۪m going to stop watching the Oscars entirely, which would
definitely be a statement coming from me as I have a party every year
to watch all the Hollywood types show up and do their massive
self-congratulatory thing. At the very least, they should award him an
honorary Oscar for this massive directing achievement. He deserves it. Narc I
rented on a whim. I̢۪d read an article on it awhile ago, and it
intrigued me. Saw it on the shelves at Blockbuster and snagged it.
Interesting film. You could definitely tell that it was the
director̢۪s first shot at the big time, and he really tried to push
the limits, but he was lacking in the sophistication needed to really
push it over the edge into the amazing film department.
One word is all that needs to be said about some of the shots at the
beginning, now say it with me, stead-i-cam.
Yes, Yes, you really could see the scene from the protagonist̢۪s
perspective, and it definitely showed you how confusing it all was, but
that̢۪s not going to do you much good, Mr. Director, if your audience
just shuts the damn DVD off because they̢۪re becoming nauseous. I do
so get sick and tired of shots that bounce all over the screen. Gag.
Literally. There̢۪s a reason why cameramen shouldn̢۪t run around with
just a plain old camera---it makes the viewers motion sick. And I
handle it better than the husband does. The Trouble With Charlie
gave the husband such a headache that he almost walked out of the
theater because of it. It̢۪s not a new and interesting way of shooting
film, kids. There was a reason why the steadicam was invented in the
first place: go look it up, please, before someone vomits.
And then we have The Pianist.
Oh, my God. Run right out and rent that movie, watch it and weep when
you̢۪re done for the times when humanity loses its grip on the simple
and basic concepts of right and wrong. They dry your eyes and know that
life goes on and can be a joyful, worthwhile experience and needn̢۪t
be completely blackened because at one time it was horrible. Well done,
Mr. Brody. Well done, indeed.
Slobo̢۪s self-righteousness never ceases to amaze me.
--- But wait, there̢۪s more.
Oh, man. I so
wish I could have been a fly on the wall of that dressing room. {Insert
indelicate snort of serious amusement here} Beauty queens freaking out
left and right. Priceless.
--Does anyone else think this is a tad too suspicious for comfort?
I̢۪m having a hard time wrapping my head around the notion no one
thinks this, or the other instances, could possibly be a form of
terrorism. They̢۪re very quick to deny it, aren̢۪t they? But they
don̢۪t seem to do any investigating. The ships are disinfected too
quickly for that. Yet another virus storms a cruise ship and its
inhabitants? This is what, the third or fourth time this has happened?
Hundreds of international passengers, who board and then get off at
many different ports, contained on a ship, living in close quarters
with air conditioning systems that pass recirculated air all over, so
it̢۪s hard to track down patient zero? And that̢۪s only if patient
zero is still on board the ship when it becomes apparent that people
are dropping like flies? And no one is investigating this? Hmmmm.
Something just ain̢۪t right here, kids, and you don̢۪t have to be Fox
Mulder to come to that conclusion. Germ warfare doesn̢۪t necessarily
have to involve deadly viruses, like smallpox or anthrax, to be
considered exactly that. Warfare does not implicitly imply that your
enemies must be annihilated: a few must always live to tell the tale.
We seem to forget in this day and age that a bullet fired in war has
just as much of a chance of maiming you as it does of killing you. We
tend to focus on the bright side of things: they lived, praise God.
Well, that̢۪s all well and good and I̢۪m happy for you, but you̢۪re
missing the point. Warfare is at its optimal operating procedure if your enemy has no clue that you̢۪re actually waging war against them.
You may be denied the glory that comes with success in your mission,
but you̢۪ll still be alive at the end of the day to fight another
battle with no one the wiser. Why do we always need to have someone
claim responsibility when something bad happens? More importantly, why
are we so sure that nothing bad has happened unless someone
steps up and claims the blame? Because, remember, sometimes, in some
people̢۪s twisted minds, when they fire a gun or set off a virus, the
maiming that results is actually the better outcome: the victim̢۪s
alive and they have the rest of their lives to ponder the whole
situation. It seems a relatively easy---and cheap---thing to put
someone on board a ship who̢۪s ill and just let nature take its
course. Why are we assuming this is so harmless?
I completely understand I might be making a mountain out of a molehill,
but this just seems odd to me. How often did this happen before 9/11?
---Relatively uneventful Labor Day weekend here. Nice weather, though.
So, while all of our friends were out of town, some enjoying family
visits, others enjoying amusement parks and museums in Chicago, the
husband and I took a few walks around the Lake Harriet and enjoyed
ourselves tremendously. It was quiet, relatively empty because it seems
most people were out of town, sunny and a nice breeze was blowing off
the lake.
I can̢۪t think of a better way to enjoy what is heralded incessantly
as the last weekend of summer. It was also nice that everyone was out
of town because we were able to rent some movies that we hadn̢۪t been
able to put our grubby little paws on when it was ninety-five outside.
Quickie Reviews for the Day:
The Two Towers
: Now, after Friday̢۪s blog, can you believe that I would rent such a
thing? And I was the instigator here, not the husband. But I was in the
mood for it, and man, I̢۪m telling you, if you don̢۪t have a Dolby
5.1 Surround Sound home theater installed in your house, you̢۪re missing something really, really good.
Particularly with these films. The sound is just incredible. We just
upgraded our TV and finally bought a DVD player back in March after
watching TV for years on the husband̢۪s old TV/VCR combo bought in
1989, thinking those items were finally cheap enough to purchase and
that they would last for a while. And it has proven itself to be
worthwhile in the extreme, despite the fact the husband put his foot
through the ceiling while laying the speaker wire for the surround
sound. The Two Towers is definitely the middle of the trilogy. It has
all the hallmarks of a masterful story arc: conflict, drama, scattered
characters, an uncertain outcome. To put it simply: it̢۪s The Empire Strikes Back with the conflict ending on the back road to Mordor, instead of in the Cloud City on Bespin.
I feel for Frodo. Poor widdle̢۪ hobbit.
And I̢۪m definitely looking forward to Return of the King
in December. If Peter Jackson gets the shaft at the Oscars again next
year, I̢۪m going to stop watching the Oscars entirely, which would
definitely be a statement coming from me as I have a party every year
to watch all the Hollywood types show up and do their massive
self-congratulatory thing. At the very least, they should award him an
honorary Oscar for this massive directing achievement. He deserves it. Narc I
rented on a whim. I̢۪d read an article on it awhile ago, and it
intrigued me. Saw it on the shelves at Blockbuster and snagged it.
Interesting film. You could definitely tell that it was the
director̢۪s first shot at the big time, and he really tried to push
the limits, but he was lacking in the sophistication needed to really
push it over the edge into the amazing film department.
One word is all that needs to be said about some of the shots at the
beginning, now say it with me, stead-i-cam.
Yes, Yes, you really could see the scene from the protagonist̢۪s
perspective, and it definitely showed you how confusing it all was, but
that̢۪s not going to do you much good, Mr. Director, if your audience
just shuts the damn DVD off because they̢۪re becoming nauseous. I do
so get sick and tired of shots that bounce all over the screen. Gag.
Literally. There̢۪s a reason why cameramen shouldn̢۪t run around with
just a plain old camera---it makes the viewers motion sick. And I
handle it better than the husband does. The Trouble With Charlie
gave the husband such a headache that he almost walked out of the
theater because of it. It̢۪s not a new and interesting way of shooting
film, kids. There was a reason why the steadicam was invented in the
first place: go look it up, please, before someone vomits.
And then we have The Pianist.
Oh, my God. Run right out and rent that movie, watch it and weep when
you̢۪re done for the times when humanity loses its grip on the simple
and basic concepts of right and wrong. They dry your eyes and know that
life goes on and can be a joyful, worthwhile experience and needn̢۪t
be completely blackened because at one time it was horrible. Well done,
Mr. Brody. Well done, indeed.
Posted by: Kathy at
02:07 PM
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Post contains 1255 words, total size 8 kb.
My essay is complete and
My essay is complete and utter stuttering bullshit.
Go read his
Go read his
Posted by: Kathy at
02:03 PM
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Post contains 21 words, total size 1 kb.
--- Ahhhh, Friday. And, damn,
--- Ahhhh, Friday. And, damn, is it cold out this morning. I almost needed to
turn on the furnace. According to the atomic clock/internal/external
thermometer it̢۪s currently fifty degrees outside and sixty-seven
inside. Brrrrrr. I wasn̢۪t ready for it to be this cold this
soon. I know, it̢۪s not that cold outside, but it would be nice to run
the furnace for about fifteen minutes or so to take the chill off the
Cake Eater Apartment and I can̢۪t do that until the husband changes
the furnace filter. It hasn̢۪t been done since the furnace was
installed last winter, and undoubtedly it̢۪s dirty and would just
scatter more dust around the already dustier-than-the-Sahara Cake Eater
Apartment. This is the husband̢۪s one honey-do item for the weekend.
Yes, there will be nagging involved. But it̢۪s all right. He̢۪s authorized the nagging. Remind me to change out the filter on Saturday, will you? Darn tootin̢۪ I will.
It̢۪s not every day you̢۪re authorized to flip the nag switch.
--- Found this site in
a roundabout sort of way last night and I̢۪m posting the linkie to
make my sister spew her hazelnut mocha all over her monitor. Now, I̢۪m
all for capitalism, but if you have enough money to buy this and you do purchase it you have officially fallen into the “more money than sense†category. Just in case you were wondering.
$47,000 for an effing playhouse? And even better: some assembly is required?
For that much money, the thing better be delivered on a gold-plated
truck and assembled by the classiest, white glove wearing, no butt
crack showing Teamsters they can muster. If I̢۪m doing the math
correctly, the square footage of the entire playhouse is 306.25
feet, which, when you break it down, gives you a cost of $153.47 per
square foot. For a playhouse. I know of real houses that have a better
cost per square foot than this. I̢۪m trying not to get too outraged
over this. After all, if you can afford it, who am I to say you
shouldn̢۪t buy it to keep your little ones occupied? Granted, the only
little ones who can afford this sort of thing are owned by parents like
Madonna, but that̢۪s beside the point. Having the coin is not the
issue, nor is the spending of it if this is what you really want for
your kids. But to spend as much coin on a playhouse for your kids as
you would on say, a Mercedes, seems an egregious waste to me. Buy the
Benz: you̢۪ll get more use out of it. Don̢۪t spend your hard earned
money on a playhouse your kids won̢۪t use in five years because it
just means that you̢۪re stupid. But if you still feel the need to
throw money away after this little rebuke, you can always resort to the
old standby: send it to me. I̢۪ll spend it wisely, and hey, if
you̢۪re really lucky, I̢۪ll take fifty out and will buy you a single
malt to say thanks. If you̢۪re really cool about there being no
strings attached, maybe I̢۪ll tell you about my Cuban cigar
connection. Now, are your kids going to do that for you if you buy them
that playhouse? I didn̢۪t think so.
--- I̢۪m sure I̢۪m going to piss a few people off with this next bit,
but could we please get over Isabel already?
Ah, the joys of living in fly-over land. Yes, we too get excited about
big honkin̢۪ hurricanes. We̢۪re fascinated by them because while most
of us have lived through a few tornadoes, this is the kind of storm
we’ve never seen. What’s a storm surge? Oh, that’s interestingâ€Â¦you mean they sandbag there, too? Wow. Cool.
But after you get over the enormity of the storm on radar, you pretty
much realize that all a hurricane really is, is what we̢۪d call a
gully washer---just wrought large.
We, too, have dealt with flooding on a large scale. Just ask Indiana.
They endured some of the worst flooding in years earlier this summer,
but they didn̢۪t get a cool graphic on CNN or FOX, or hours of
incessant coverage devoted to airing all of the---gasp!---standing
water. But we had straight line winds! Horizontal rain!
Ok, says she with a mild shrug. Ask the people in K.C. how life was
earlier in the spring when they endured straight-line winds---some of
which were actually tornadoes---that came out of nowhere: they didn̢۪t
have days to board up their windows. Or time to sandbag to prevent the
inevitable flooding that occurred in their basements.
As best as I can figure, there are two things that make the hurricane
the bigger media show. First, hurricanes hit seaboards. Well, yeah,
that̢۪s obvious, but one on the Eastern seaboard is just too juicy not
to hype the hell out of. After all, that̢۪s where all the reporters
are! They won̢۪t bitch and moan about being too far away from home:
it̢۪s an easy job for them. Second, they have days to work everyone up
into a fine, sea-foamy, lather about a hurricane. Tornadoes are just
too random in their appearance: they show up out of nowhere: how is a news producer supposed to cope with that sort of timetable, huh?
But, jealousy aside, it really doesn̢۪t matter if it̢۪s a hurricane
or a flood in the Midwest, we still get the same lame-ass coverage in
either case. Midwestern reporting: Look
at this rock! See the water line and see the new level of the water
surrounding its base! The water is receding! The flood is over! Now,
we̢۪ll switch back over to Jim in the studio, with a report as to how
rats are suddenly making an appearance in downtownâ€Â¦Jim? East Coast reporting: Look
at the sea foam! My God! I̢۪ve never seen anything like it! It looks
like Mr. Bubble has come out of hiding with a vengeance! Oh, My God! I
almost ran over a 2X4---with a nail sticking out of it! This small and
formerly picturesque coastal village is coming apart at the seams!
Not to discount the damage or the lives that were lost, but could we please get over it already?
Although, I don̢۪t think I̢۪d mind watching Geraldo fly a kite in a hurricane. That would be well worth my time, I believe.
--- Get a cool t-shirt, beat back that ugly beast called the RIAA!
--- Ahoy, Mateys! It̢۪s September 19th and that would mean it̢۪s Talk Like a Pirate Day!
Arrrrgh Scrunch half o̢۪ ye̢۪re face up and growl a few times
and ye̢۪ve got it. --- I was searching around for a Chuckle of the Day
and came up empty for stories of silly Germans. I figure there̢۪s
enough humor on here today that it should keep you satisfied until
Monday, when we will learn the truth about Cake Eater City workers and
if they̢۪re really looking for overtime. Have a good weekend kids.
turn on the furnace. According to the atomic clock/internal/external
thermometer it̢۪s currently fifty degrees outside and sixty-seven
inside. Brrrrrr. I wasn̢۪t ready for it to be this cold this
soon. I know, it̢۪s not that cold outside, but it would be nice to run
the furnace for about fifteen minutes or so to take the chill off the
Cake Eater Apartment and I can̢۪t do that until the husband changes
the furnace filter. It hasn̢۪t been done since the furnace was
installed last winter, and undoubtedly it̢۪s dirty and would just
scatter more dust around the already dustier-than-the-Sahara Cake Eater
Apartment. This is the husband̢۪s one honey-do item for the weekend.
Yes, there will be nagging involved. But it̢۪s all right. He̢۪s authorized the nagging. Remind me to change out the filter on Saturday, will you? Darn tootin̢۪ I will.
It̢۪s not every day you̢۪re authorized to flip the nag switch.
--- Found this site in
a roundabout sort of way last night and I̢۪m posting the linkie to
make my sister spew her hazelnut mocha all over her monitor. Now, I̢۪m
all for capitalism, but if you have enough money to buy this and you do purchase it you have officially fallen into the “more money than sense†category. Just in case you were wondering.
$47,000 for an effing playhouse? And even better: some assembly is required?
For that much money, the thing better be delivered on a gold-plated
truck and assembled by the classiest, white glove wearing, no butt
crack showing Teamsters they can muster. If I̢۪m doing the math
correctly, the square footage of the entire playhouse is 306.25
feet, which, when you break it down, gives you a cost of $153.47 per
square foot. For a playhouse. I know of real houses that have a better
cost per square foot than this. I̢۪m trying not to get too outraged
over this. After all, if you can afford it, who am I to say you
shouldn̢۪t buy it to keep your little ones occupied? Granted, the only
little ones who can afford this sort of thing are owned by parents like
Madonna, but that̢۪s beside the point. Having the coin is not the
issue, nor is the spending of it if this is what you really want for
your kids. But to spend as much coin on a playhouse for your kids as
you would on say, a Mercedes, seems an egregious waste to me. Buy the
Benz: you̢۪ll get more use out of it. Don̢۪t spend your hard earned
money on a playhouse your kids won̢۪t use in five years because it
just means that you̢۪re stupid. But if you still feel the need to
throw money away after this little rebuke, you can always resort to the
old standby: send it to me. I̢۪ll spend it wisely, and hey, if
you̢۪re really lucky, I̢۪ll take fifty out and will buy you a single
malt to say thanks. If you̢۪re really cool about there being no
strings attached, maybe I̢۪ll tell you about my Cuban cigar
connection. Now, are your kids going to do that for you if you buy them
that playhouse? I didn̢۪t think so.
--- I̢۪m sure I̢۪m going to piss a few people off with this next bit,
but could we please get over Isabel already?
Ah, the joys of living in fly-over land. Yes, we too get excited about
big honkin̢۪ hurricanes. We̢۪re fascinated by them because while most
of us have lived through a few tornadoes, this is the kind of storm
we’ve never seen. What’s a storm surge? Oh, that’s interestingâ€Â¦you mean they sandbag there, too? Wow. Cool.
But after you get over the enormity of the storm on radar, you pretty
much realize that all a hurricane really is, is what we̢۪d call a
gully washer---just wrought large.
We, too, have dealt with flooding on a large scale. Just ask Indiana.
They endured some of the worst flooding in years earlier this summer,
but they didn̢۪t get a cool graphic on CNN or FOX, or hours of
incessant coverage devoted to airing all of the---gasp!---standing
water. But we had straight line winds! Horizontal rain!
Ok, says she with a mild shrug. Ask the people in K.C. how life was
earlier in the spring when they endured straight-line winds---some of
which were actually tornadoes---that came out of nowhere: they didn̢۪t
have days to board up their windows. Or time to sandbag to prevent the
inevitable flooding that occurred in their basements.
As best as I can figure, there are two things that make the hurricane
the bigger media show. First, hurricanes hit seaboards. Well, yeah,
that̢۪s obvious, but one on the Eastern seaboard is just too juicy not
to hype the hell out of. After all, that̢۪s where all the reporters
are! They won̢۪t bitch and moan about being too far away from home:
it̢۪s an easy job for them. Second, they have days to work everyone up
into a fine, sea-foamy, lather about a hurricane. Tornadoes are just
too random in their appearance: they show up out of nowhere: how is a news producer supposed to cope with that sort of timetable, huh?
But, jealousy aside, it really doesn̢۪t matter if it̢۪s a hurricane
or a flood in the Midwest, we still get the same lame-ass coverage in
either case. Midwestern reporting: Look
at this rock! See the water line and see the new level of the water
surrounding its base! The water is receding! The flood is over! Now,
we̢۪ll switch back over to Jim in the studio, with a report as to how
rats are suddenly making an appearance in downtownâ€Â¦Jim? East Coast reporting: Look
at the sea foam! My God! I̢۪ve never seen anything like it! It looks
like Mr. Bubble has come out of hiding with a vengeance! Oh, My God! I
almost ran over a 2X4---with a nail sticking out of it! This small and
formerly picturesque coastal village is coming apart at the seams!
Not to discount the damage or the lives that were lost, but could we please get over it already?
Although, I don̢۪t think I̢۪d mind watching Geraldo fly a kite in a hurricane. That would be well worth my time, I believe.
--- Get a cool t-shirt, beat back that ugly beast called the RIAA!
--- Ahoy, Mateys! It̢۪s September 19th and that would mean it̢۪s Talk Like a Pirate Day!
Arrrrgh Scrunch half o̢۪ ye̢۪re face up and growl a few times
and ye̢۪ve got it. --- I was searching around for a Chuckle of the Day
and came up empty for stories of silly Germans. I figure there̢۪s
enough humor on here today that it should keep you satisfied until
Monday, when we will learn the truth about Cake Eater City workers and
if they̢۪re really looking for overtime. Have a good weekend kids.
Posted by: Kathy at
01:57 PM
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Post contains 1173 words, total size 8 kb.
--- Johnny Revisited Oh, it
--- Johnny Revisited
Oh, it was taken out of context. I love America and I̢۪m proud to be
American and that means I get to criticize what̢۪s wrong with my
country. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Now, how much do you want to bet that the next time he shoots out a
press release, it will be patently obvious how angry he is about being
criticized for exercising his constitutionally protected right to
freedom of speech? How angry he is that he is being forced to pay a
price for saying things Americans don̢۪t like and that he shouldn̢۪t
suffer for his comments? Five bucks? Anyone? Anyone?
Nah. You̢۪re right. I wouldn̢۪t take that bet either.
{Earlâ€Â¦scratch thatâ€Â¦.Johnny’s gotta go!}
--- Hmmmm.
{Insert thick German accent here} Interesting. Very, very interesting.
So, if Al-Jazeera is the Arab version of CNN, it would therefore
logically follow that CNN would also be having reporters arrested by
Spanish authorities for alleged collusion with Al-Qaeda. Wouldn̢۪t it?
--- Oh for the love of Allah!
I̢۪m not a big fan of the EU. To my mind it̢۪s yet another sticky,
gooey bureaucracy whose stain, once imprinted, won̢۪t come out in the
wash. That aside, it could, possibly be a force for good, and that
premise could have been proven in any country, it̢۪s Turkey. Let me
see if I̢۪ve got this straight, now. They̢۪ll let Slovakia in, but
they won̢۪t let Turkey join up? What about Bulgaria? Romania?
Ridiculous. I wasn̢۪t buying anyone̢۪s arguments that it was because
they wouldn̢۪t pull out of Cyprus, or that their economy would drag
the rest down, or that they didn̢۪t share the common European
heritage. None of that held any water with me, because it was blatantly
obvious that it was because the country was mostly Islamic
that scared the bureaucrats in Brussels. That one issue alone scared
the EU more than they could bear and so they ran away as quick as their
fat little legs could carry them and said, maybe next time.
They bemoan the lack of democracy in other Islamic countries when
it̢۪s convenient for them to do so, just so long as it won̢۪t offend
anyone, and yet, when push comes to shove, they show they̢۪re a bunch
of cowards. They̢۪re chicken. They don̢۪t want any more Muslims
coming into their countries, which if they had allowed Turkey entrance,
would have happened. They had the chance to allow their influence to
spread into a part of the world that needs the message of secular
government desperately, and they chickened out. It̢۪s xenophobism at
its worst, and because of all the bleating about Iraq, wasn̢۪t covered
as it should have been in the media. This crap is the reason why the EU needs to allow Turkey entrance and needs to do it now.
--- Chuckle of the Day
Are they going to start painting crosswalk signs with
multicolored---some black, some white, some tan--- figures now, too?
Oh, it was taken out of context. I love America and I̢۪m proud to be
American and that means I get to criticize what̢۪s wrong with my
country. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Now, how much do you want to bet that the next time he shoots out a
press release, it will be patently obvious how angry he is about being
criticized for exercising his constitutionally protected right to
freedom of speech? How angry he is that he is being forced to pay a
price for saying things Americans don̢۪t like and that he shouldn̢۪t
suffer for his comments? Five bucks? Anyone? Anyone?
Nah. You̢۪re right. I wouldn̢۪t take that bet either.
{Earlâ€Â¦scratch thatâ€Â¦.Johnny’s gotta go!}
--- Hmmmm.
{Insert thick German accent here} Interesting. Very, very interesting.
So, if Al-Jazeera is the Arab version of CNN, it would therefore
logically follow that CNN would also be having reporters arrested by
Spanish authorities for alleged collusion with Al-Qaeda. Wouldn̢۪t it?
--- Oh for the love of Allah!
I̢۪m not a big fan of the EU. To my mind it̢۪s yet another sticky,
gooey bureaucracy whose stain, once imprinted, won̢۪t come out in the
wash. That aside, it could, possibly be a force for good, and that
premise could have been proven in any country, it̢۪s Turkey. Let me
see if I̢۪ve got this straight, now. They̢۪ll let Slovakia in, but
they won̢۪t let Turkey join up? What about Bulgaria? Romania?
Ridiculous. I wasn̢۪t buying anyone̢۪s arguments that it was because
they wouldn̢۪t pull out of Cyprus, or that their economy would drag
the rest down, or that they didn̢۪t share the common European
heritage. None of that held any water with me, because it was blatantly
obvious that it was because the country was mostly Islamic
that scared the bureaucrats in Brussels. That one issue alone scared
the EU more than they could bear and so they ran away as quick as their
fat little legs could carry them and said, maybe next time.
They bemoan the lack of democracy in other Islamic countries when
it̢۪s convenient for them to do so, just so long as it won̢۪t offend
anyone, and yet, when push comes to shove, they show they̢۪re a bunch
of cowards. They̢۪re chicken. They don̢۪t want any more Muslims
coming into their countries, which if they had allowed Turkey entrance,
would have happened. They had the chance to allow their influence to
spread into a part of the world that needs the message of secular
government desperately, and they chickened out. It̢۪s xenophobism at
its worst, and because of all the bleating about Iraq, wasn̢۪t covered
as it should have been in the media. This crap is the reason why the EU needs to allow Turkey entrance and needs to do it now.
--- Chuckle of the Day
Are they going to start painting crosswalk signs with
multicolored---some black, some white, some tan--- figures now, too?
Posted by: Kathy at
01:48 PM
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