The JANE AUSTEN CAGE MATCH

The JANE AUSTEN CAGE MATCH is on!

Robert has finally sent me his essay. I've sent him mine---both will be posted here and at The Llamabutchers . Just to refresh your memory, the rules are as follows:

1. A 500 word essay
2. One rebuttal each
3. You vote to see who wins.

Without further ado, here is Robert's essay.

There is a certain “pitchforks and torches” character
to most criticism of Emma. This often takes the form of facile
dismissal – Emma is a rich, selfish, thoughtless bitch: why should we
care? More̢۪s the pity, because in fact Emma is one of the most
emotionally conducive figures in literature. First of all, there are
the charms that bind us to Emma in the opening chapters. Among these
are her innate goodness, as illustrated by her happiness for the
Westons̢۪ marriage, her exertions to ensure her father̢۪s comfort,
and other smaller episodes. Indeed, it is critical to remember that in
taking Harriet Smith under her wing, Emma genuinely believes –
however wrongly – that she is doing a good thing. Emma also is
undoubtedly intelligent. Indeed, Mr. Knightly believes that her natural
cleverness at an early age is a factor in her spoiled condition. But
Emma̢۪s intelligence is manifested in more than mere cleverness or
competence. For example, her declamation to Harriet on why she (Emma)
plans never to marry, despite containing a certain amount of posturing
vanity, demonstrates a very clear understanding of the politics of
marriage in her world. Second, I do not believe that Emma has a sudden
epiphany about herself after the Box Hill incident. Rather, she is
aware of her own shortcomings at a subconscious level from the very
beginning, as illustrated by her constant attachment to Mr. Knightly
despite the fact that he is the only character in the story who
criticizes her - She seeks out his opinion because she knows this is
good for her. It is these qualities in Emma, together with her charm
and beauty, that make us love her – and make us all the more
emotionally involved in the fallout from her shortcomings, chief among
which, of course, is her self-blinding vanity. We cringe on Emma̢۪s
behalf when she so cruelly dismisses poor Farmer Martin and nearly
destroys Harriet. We wish to flash warning signals at her as she idly
muses about Jane Fairfax and Mr. Dixon and dallies with the shadowy
Frank Churchill. We howl with laughter at her surprised indignation
over Mr. Elton̢۪s feverish proposal in the carriage. We genuinely weep
with her over her Box Hill disgrace. Finally, we feel Emma̢۪s distress
at the sudden horrid thought of losing Mr. Knightly and her painfully
humbling realization that such loss would, indeed, be entirely her own
fault.
And here, really, is why I enjoy Emma more than Pride and Prejudice.
Elizabeth Bennett is a paragon of virtues. But she comes pre-packaged.
Elizabeth̢۪s struggle is with the world around her. Emma̢۪s struggle
is within herself and we, the readers, are made an intimate part of it.
We are not treated to an omniscient third-person view of Highbury.
Rather, we see what Emma sees and what Emma ought to see. The pattern
of growth in her character is mapped by the eventual merger of these
two viewpoints in her eyes. The true joy of the novel is watching
Emma̢۪s progress and arrival

And here is mine.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

And so begins Pride and Prejudice,
a novel that has enthralled readers for almost two hundred years. The
plot could be summarized thusly: how to bag a rich husband when you
yourself are not rich. Women all over the world are still enslaved to
this task. However, our young heroine Miss Elizabeth Bennet has a
heavier load to bear than just trying to inveigle a man into buying her
a beach house: she wants to be in love with her husband, and if the man
just happens to be rich, well all the better, but it̢۪s not really
necessary. The odds are not in her favor, yet Lizzie succeeds. She bags
Mr. Darcy and he loves her. Why? Because Lizzie has character. She has
strength. She knows what she wants. She̢۪s not Wonder Woman, but she
could be. And what a spectacular superheroine she̢۪d be. There
wouldn̢۪t be any Peter Parker-ish quibbling over the heaviness of her
burdens; there wouldn̢۪t be any Batman-like whining about
loneliness---although Alfred would undoubtedly hector her over the
state of the Batmobile, just because he̢۪s Alfred. She may not be able
or fly above the skies of Metropolis, but Lex Luthor is a chump
compared to Lady Catherine De Bourgh. You have to admit, on a super
heroine level, Lizzie would make the League of Justice blush for all
the whining they̢۪ve done over the years. And she̢۪s just looking for
a husband---she̢۪s not out to save the frickin̢۪ world.
Yet, while our Lizzie possesses admirable qualities, the people she
encounters are not charmed. They think her coarse and opinionated; that
she does not know her station. While they plot against her, she never
willfully blinds herself to their intentions, hence she is able to
retaliate on her own terms. Lizzie chooses to be different: not simply to be contrary, but because she trusts her own heart and mind---and that makes
her different. Whatever issues she may wrestle with, she is confident
in her own abilities to suss out the situation in a rational manner.
She is a woman of sense, not silliness. Lizzie is admirable because she
chooses a challenging path; Emma chooses to make her life more
interesting by meddling in the affairs of others. There̢۪s honestly no
comparison between their virtues: Lizzie is far superior and is much
more interesting to read about because the world conspires against her
goal: to find a husband she loves and respects. Emma has nothing to
lose and her blunders are of her own making, while Lizzie, by following
her path, deliberately places herself in a precarious situation where
to make a mistake would be to sabotage her entire future. Who would you
rather read about? A character who is naïve in the extreme? Or someone
who knows the world is against her yet has the courage to follow
through?

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Why stoners should never attempt

Why stoners should never attempt robbery.

I suppose he had to take consolation in the fact that a chocolate bar will at least help with the munchies.

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Paul Johnson has a few

Paul Johnson has a few in his most recent Forbes column. (registration required)

In economic activities the greatest of virtues is
tolerance. All societies flourish mightily when tolerance is the norm,
and our age furnishes many examples of this. China began its astounding
commercial and industrial takeoff only when Mao Zedong's odiously
intolerant form of communism was scrapped in favor of what might be
called totalitarian laissez-faire. {...}In the last fiscal year India's
GDP grew an estimated 8%, and in the third quarter, 10%. India's
economy for the first time is expanding faster than China's. For years
India was the tortoise, China the hare. The race is on, and my money's
on India, because freedom--of movement, speech, the media--is always an
economic asset. {...}The contrast between China and India--both moving
steadily to join the advanced countries of the world--and those
countries where Islam is dominant is marked. Whatever its merits may
be, Islam is not famed for tolerance. Indeed, of the major world
religions it is the least broad-minded and open to argument. With the
rise of a new form of fundamentalism in recent decades, its intolerance
has been growing--as has the concomitant poverty. {...}The more I study
history, the more I deplore the existence of those--be they clerics,
bureaucrats or politicians--who think they know what's best for
ordinary people and impose it on them. We have a pungent example of
this know-all mentality in the EU. The bureaucrats of Brussels have
created yet another brand of intolerance that determines by law
everything from the shape of bananas to the number of seats in a bus,
from apple growing to house plumbing. As a result the German economy is
contracting and the French economy is stagnant. There are now more
unemployed people in single-currency EU Europe than there have been at
any other time since the worst of the 1930s, and many of them will
never work again.

Go register and read the whole thing.
While I don't agree with Johnson's over-simplification of the economic
downfall of certain countries, namely Iran, as he seems to paint the
players in black and white with no shades of gray, he's got a point. A
very serious, yet a very simple point.

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Today's Opinion Journal contains, as

Today's Opinion Journal contains, as it usually does, an article on faith. Today's article, written by Jonathan Last is on the movie Saved!.

Much has been made about how touchy a subject Evangelical Christianity is, and Saved!
has, apparently (I haven't seen it)parodied it rather well, without
being heavy-handed or overly disapproving. Last disagrees with this
premise and argues that the acclaim heaped upon this movie by the
critics proves his point.

With "Saved!" having gone wide last week, the rest of
America now has a chance to see Brian Dannelly's satire of life at an
evangelical high school. Or, as the film's producer, Michael Stipe, put
it: "Saved!" is "like those monster vampire high school kind of movies,
only here the monsters are Jesus-freak teenagers."
{...}That anyone could believe such a movie to have "Christian appeal"
is one measure of how out of touch Hollywood is. The irreverence of
"Saved!" consists of portraying most Christians as dim, many as
malevolent and all as hypocritical. Wisdom and good faith do make an
appearance in "Saved!," but they are displayed by explicitly
antireligious characters.
{...}David Denby, in The New Yorker, solemnly nodded, adding that
although "Saved!" was not an attack on Christianity, "to make it at all
took courage."
Actually, it took no courage, since the movie plays straight into
Hollywood's smug stereotypes about religion, especially the
non-Buddhist variety. And besides, the Christian community did not rise
up to smite the makers of "Saved!" The movie was given respectful--one
might say gentle--treatment in places such as Christianity Today. The
lone voice raised against it was Jerry Falwell's. Talking about this
condemnation, Mr. Dannelly admitted that "it doesn't exactly hurt."
{...}Mr. Stipe has recently said that "anyone of faith who is secure in
that faith probably has a sense of humor about it and would like the
movie." Perhaps so. And "Saved!" is not without likable qualities, as
Joe Morgenstern noted in this newspaper. But there are all sorts of
faith. Those who believe in abortion found it easy enough to be
bothered by "Saved!" Those who believe in the evil of American
Christians found much to recommend it.

Now, I've already said that I haven't seen this movie. But I do want to
see it. I may be completely wrong about it, and if so I'll post a big
takeback if necessary. So, take my defense of it with a grain of salt,
ok?
Last appears to take the tack that any movie about Evangelical
Christianity is a bad movie. Particularly if a. it's made by people in
Hollywood and b. the critics think it's a well made movie. These two
factors make this movie a bad thing
in Last's book. He's, however, got to do better than that if he really
wants to make the claim that Evangelical Christians---and their
beliefs---are being slammed by this movie. First off, we should be
clear just whom this movie and Last are referencing when they say
"Evangelical Christians." A couple of years ago, at mass, Father asked
my fellow attendees if they thought of themselves as "evangelical" and
asked those who did to raise their hands. One lone man in the front of
the church did. No one else thought of themselves as "evangelical,"
because after all, evangelical, in today's society, means "Born Again."
That if you're evangelical, you're a Bible thumper. A member of the God
Squad. Someone who goes to Bible study; someone who uses the Good Book
as the road, and not as a map. But most of all, it meant someone who
felt it was their duty to actively go out and show people the truth of
Jesus' words and to get them to accept Him as their personal savior.
Now, most Catholics don't do that; we leave it to the missionaries and
the priests. We'll help someone if they ask us to explain it to them,
but for the most part, prostelytizing is not a big part of the average
Catholic's daily routine. Father's point was to make us look at the
situation differently; to challenge our preconceived notions; he wanted
us all to be forthright with our beliefs and to share them with
nonbelievers. Because, technically speaking, Catholics are supposed to
do that. We just don't follow through.
But Born Again's do do that. They spread the word. And, over
the years, this has brought out a bit of righteousness in them, I
believe. They're new to the party, speaking strictly in terms of how
old Christianity is, and they want to show off to make sure people
notice them. That's fine, and I don't have an issue with it. I do,
however, take issue when they tell me I'm going to hell because I
haven't accepted their version of Christianity. And they don't
have any problem with doing this. They don't see that they might offend
someone with their words because, honestly, they believe they're saving someone
and that's worth any offense they might cause.
Back when I managed the coffee shop, I had one kid working for me who
needed two weeks off to go to Saipan with his youth group from church.
I worked it and he went. He was changed by this trip. Where before he
was just an average follower, that youth group was a good place to meet
girls, this trip flipped a switch in him and he became an ardent
believer. The trip was a youth conference in the tropics and part of
that trip was bringing the Good News to the youth of Saipan. He told me
a story about "exorcising" a young native man in a hotel room with
other members of his youth group. He actually used the term
"exorcising"; they were "bringing out the demons that posssessed this
kid." And he believed it, hook, line and sinker. He said the boy wasn't
a Christian; he was of Japanese descent; and before he had practiced
the traditional Animist religion of his forefathers. They had wheedled
the boy into their hotel room, and the exorcism proceeded from there.
What Brian described as the "demons coming out" sounded to me like the
kid was physically resisting being "exorcised." Much writhing on the
floor, the kid being forcibly held down by six American kids, and then
finally succumbing because it was the only way that he'd get these
people off of him. If that kid ever practiced Christianity, I'd be
really surprised, but Brian was sure
that he'd been exorcised and that he'd accepted Jesus and would be
faithful for the rest of his life. I just stood there as he told me
this, jaw hanging wide open, shocked as all hell. Brian didn't even
notice my dismay. He thought it was great! I wonder, and still wonder,
how normal this type of behavior is among the evangelicals. If it's
considered rote, well...there's a problem there. Even the Catholics
didn't have too much luck with forced conversions. Evangelical
Christianity is forthright. It is out there,
right in your face, and some of its most ardent believers are
teenagers. There's a reason why most ideological groups, whether they
be political or religious in nature, try to get the young on board as
soon as possible and it's because kids simply do not have the
life-experience to help them judge the merits of the arguments
presented. Look at communism, particularly the Soviet and Chinese
models---they got the kids while they were young, and furthermore asked
for proof of these kids' "faith" by having them turn in people who
weren't "believers." Look at the preponderance of youth groups attached
to churches. Look at the Catholic School System. If you get them while
they're young, odds are they will stick with it their whole life. I
know. I'm a prime example of this. I went to Catholic School for twelve
years. First grade through senior year in high school. I got the whole
kit and caboodle when it came to Catholicism. The habit of Evangelical
Christianity however encourages zealotry when it comes right down to
it. I don't mean to slam anyone's beliefs, but to the rest of us, it's
a bit offputting that the Armies of Evangelical Christianity are being
formed when the kids don't have enough life experience to know that
maybe, just maybe, other people choose to believe differently.
The difference that scares me is that action is involved with
Evangelical Christianity. Deeds are commanded to be brought forth as
proof. Go forth and save! people. For Evangelical Christians, it's a
moral imperative to save people from the fires of hell. Kids don't have
enough reasoning under their belts, or nuance in their systems, to know
that peer pressure (or holding someone down until they accept what you
have to say) is not the best way to win an argument.
It's not the faith Saved! parodies, it's the behavior attached
to the faith. Last doesn't get this point...at all. I haven't even seen
the movie and I get that. Why doesn't Last? He makes the assumption
that if you parody the behavior, you're parodying the faith, and this
is confirmed for him by the fact that people in Hollywood who have
always been anti-Christian and reviewers are for this movie. What utter
crap. Get an argument, will ya? If I, as a Catholic, who admittedly has
problems with the behavior attached to Evangelical Christianity, can
see the difference, why can't he?

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Where's Mulder when you need

Where's Mulder when you need him?

(hat tip: the husband)

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According to this article, yep.

According to this article, yep. That seems to be the case.

And it indeed seems as if the situation is worse than previously thought.

UNITED NATIONS - NASA (news - web sites) photos of the
Darfur region of western Sudan show destruction in nearly 400 villages,
and there have been reports of fighting or threatened attacks in every
camp for displaced people, the U.S. aid chief said Wednesday. Andrew
Natsios, administrator of the Agency for International Development,
warned that time is running out to help 2 million Sudanese in desperate
need of aid in Darfur. He said his agency's estimate that 350,000 could
die of disease and malnutrition over the next nine months "is
conservative." {...}We've now analyzed 576 villages, 300 of which are
completely destroyed, 76 of which are substantially destroyed," he
said. "When we checked them on the ground, we confirmed what we found.
We are going to watch them, using aerial photography for the duration
to track what's happening."

Contrast that with the Human Rights Watch report's numbers reported in this post:

BRANCACCIO: How many villages did you see? FLINT: I
probably saw about 17. But it's hard to move. I mean, I moved with a
force of probably about 100 men. Some close to me. Some further out.
Some in advance.
It's a huge, Darfur — the size of Texas. It's very hard to know
what's going on. And it's very hard to be blanket. Because I think not
every area, the war will not be the exactly the same in every area. So,
I basically selected a block. And I looked at the 60 square kilometer,
25 square mile block, which had 14 villages. And I visited all those
villages but one. Eleven had been burned. And if there were huts
remaining, it was a handful. All the others had gone.

While Flint chose a block of land because of her limited time and
resources, who knew that the actual number of villages that would show
damage is tallied at almost four hundred? FOUR HUNDRED.
Let that number sink in. All I can say is that since the mainstream
American media seems intent on ignoring this story as too inconvenient
to cover, and we apparently are forced to rely upon aid workers for
intelligence, let's hope that NASA keeps a satellite or two tasked on
Darfur so we at least have some information as to the width and breadth of this genocide.

Natsios said the U.S. government has spent $116 million on
the relief effort in Sudan — more than all other donors combined —
"and we pledged $188 million between now and the end of next year." The
United States is moving "with a maximum sense of urgency to try to save
lives," said Ranneberger, who accompanied Natsios. "We don't have time
to sit around also and decide, is this ethnic cleansing or is this
genocide, or what is it." Natsios said President Bush (news - web
sites) has made clear to Bashir that U.S.-Sudanese relations will not
be normalized "until these atrocities are stopped and until all
impediments to the relief effort are ended." "They badly want the
normalization of relations" after an agreement ending a 21-year civil
war between government forces and rebels in southern Sudan. "You cannot
have peace in the south and a new civil war in the west," Natsios said.
"It's just not going to happen."

Finally! Someone said it. Question is, when is the UN going to say the same? Or even do the same?

UPDATE: 06/01/2004 Courtesy of the Enlightened Cynic a link to the International Crisis Group's recommendations for action in Darfur.

The Sudan government has effectively played on fears that
its peace talks with the SPLA in Naivasha (the regional,
Intergovernmental Authority on Development, IGAD, process) might
unravel as a means to continue its brutal strategy while shielding
itself from criticism. Western governments have played directly into
that strategy. They have given total priority to Naivasha while only
quietly engaging Khartoum about Darfur in an effort to secure
incremental improvements in humanitarian access. They have refrained
from directly challenging it there even while attacks continue and
access is continually impeded. But a failure to resolve the
catastrophic Darfur situation will undermine not only the last stages
of negotiation in Naivasha but also the prospects for implementing
whatever agreement is ultimately reached there.
Urgent action is required on several fronts if "Darfur 2004" is not to
join "Rwanda 1994" as shorthand for international shame.

Go read the whole thing.

UPDATE II: political scientist and fellow blogger Daniel Geffen chimes in with a post
about a CARE breakfast---with Darfur as its main focus---that he
attended this morning. Nick Kristof, one of a very few western
journalists who has actually been writing about Darfur, spoke.
Interesting observations all around.

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I feel like being snarky

I feel like being snarky for a bit, but am too lazy to come up with my own bit of snarkiness.

Here's a bit from Anthony Bourdain's book A Cook's Tour
that should please everyone but the idiots at PETA. Bourdain is a rare
breed: a professional chef who also happens to write more than
cookbooks. Yes. This also happens to be the same guy who warned you
never to order fish at a restaurant on a Monday. A Cook's Tour
is a fascinating read. The premise behind the book is that he wanted to
travel the world to find "the perfect meal." In the process he got
drunk with a pack of Basque women, he ate the still-beating heart of a
cobra in Vietnam, and the bastard got to go eat at The French Laundry.
His publisher thought this a great idea and to cross-market the book,
the publisher got the Food Channel to follow him around on his
journeys. This was a cross to bear for Bourdain, a chain smoking,
loud-mouthed, booze drinking, cholesterol lovin' gourmand who did not
relish the thought of being followed around by a TV crew. The passage
you're about to read comes from his chapter on his visit to Northern
California, which, in my humble opinion, is the best chapter in an
outstanding book. Enjoy.
A Cook's Tour, Chapter: West Coast. Copyright 2001 by Anthony Bourdain. All Rights Reserved

Reasons Why You Don't Want to Be on Television: Number Five in a Series."C'mon,
Tony! You've been to Cambodia, for chrissakes! How bad can it be?" said
the television producer. "We can't do a whole show on one restaurant!
This will be funny! They're looking forward to cooking for you!" What
he'd arranged, what he had in mind, was for me to venture in to the
real heart of darkness, deep, deep into enemy territory, to Berkeley,
and a vegan potluck dinner.
I've said some pretty hateful things about vegetarians, I know. In
spite of this, many of them have been very nice to me over the past
year. Though I think I have at various times referred to them as
"Hezbollah-like" and as "the enemy of everything good and decent in the
human spirit," they come to my readings, write me nice letters. My
publicist in England, whom I adore, is a veg (though I've forced her at
gunpoint to eat fish a few times), as are a couple of the shooters I've
worked with. They've shown remarkable good humor, considering how I
feel about their predilections. There have been lots of vegheads who've
been very kind and generous these last few months, in spite of the fact
that they know that at the first opportunity, when they're drunk or
vulnerable, I'm getting a bacon cheeseburger down their throats. That
doesn't mean I wanted to sit in some hilltop A-frame eating lentils out
of pot with a bunch of Nader supporters and hairy-legged earth mothers
in caftans. I certainly didn't want to visit "them" on their home turf.
If nothing else, I was reasonably certain that smoking would be a
problem.
I'm going to try---really try---to be nice here.
I went along with the producer's scheme. Fair is fair. The opposition
should be given every chance to prove the righteousness of their
cause---or at least the merits of their case. The people coming to
dinner, the folks who'd be cooking for me, were all serious vegans.
Cookbook authors. Vegan cookery teachers. People who spent lots of time
going to seminars, classes, corresponding with others of their
ilk---on-line, in chat rooms, and at conventions and informal
gatherings. Maybe it was possible to make something good without meat,
or stock, or butter, or cheese, or dairy products of any kind. Who was
I to sneer? The world, I had recently found out, was a big, strange,
and wonderful place. I'd eaten tree grubs and worms and sheep's
testicles. How bad could it be?
Bad.
The vegans I visited did not live in a converted ashram on a hilltop,
tending to their crops in bare feet or Birkenstocks. No one was named
Rainbow or Sunflower. Only one person wore a sari. My hosts lived in a
kept modern luxury home in an exclusive area of the suburbs, surrounded
by green lawns and shiny new BMW's and SUV's. They were, all of them,
affluent-looking professionals and executives. Ranging in age from late
thirties to early fifties, they were well dressed, unfailingly nice,
eager to show me the other side of the argument. And not one of them
could cook a fucking vegetable. Fergus Henderson, the grand master of
blood and guts cookery, shows more respect for the simple side of
sauteed baby spinach on some of his plates than any of these deluded
vegans showed me in ten elaborate courses. Green salads were dressed
hours before being served, ensuring that they had wilted into
nutrition-free sludge. The knife work---even from the cooking teachers
present---was clumsy and inept, resembling the lesser efforts of
younger members of the Barney Rubble clan. The vegetables---every
time---were uniformly overcooked, underseasoned, nearly colorless, and
abused, any flavor, texture and lingering vitamin content leeched out.
Painstaking re-creations of 'cheese', 'yogurt', and 'cream' made from
various unearthly soy products tasted, invariably, like caulking
compound, and my hosts, though good humored and friendly to the hostile
stranger in their midst, seemed terrified, even angry, about something
nebulous in their pasts. Every time I asked one of them how and when
they had decided to forgo all animal products, the answer always seemed
to involve a personal tragedy or disappointment unrelated to food.
'I got a divorce,' began one. 'I lost my job,' said another. 'Heart
attack,' offered another. 'I broke up with my...' 'When I decided to
move out of LA, I started thinking about things...'
In every case, it appeared to me (in my jaundiced way of thinking
anyway) that something had soured them on the world they'd once
embraced---and that they'd sought new rules to live by, another
orthodoxy, something else to believe in. 'Did you read about the PCB's
in striped bass?' one whispered urgently, as if comforted by the news.
'I saw on-line where they're pumping steroids into cattle,' said
another breathlessly, every snippet of bad news from the health front a
victory for their cause. They seemed to spend an awful lot of time
confirming their fears and suspicions of the world outside their own,
combing the Internet for stories of radioactive dairy products,
genetically altered beets, polluted fish, carcinogenic sausages,
spongiform-ridden meat, and hideous Grand Guignol chamber of horror
abattoirs and slaughterhouses.
They also seemed curiously oblivious to the fact that much of the world
goes to bed hungry every night, that our basic design features as
humans, from the beginning of our evolution, developed around the very
real need to hunt down slower, stupider animals, kill them and eat
them. 'Don't you ever wake up in the middle of the night craving
bacon?' I asked. 'No. Never,' replied every single one of them. 'I've
never felt so healthy in my life.'
It was difficult for me to be polite (though I was outnumbered). I'd
recently returned from Cambodia, where a chicken can be the difference
between life and death. These people in their comfortable suburban digs
were carping about cruelty to animals but suggesting that everyone in
the world, from suburban Yuppie to starving Cambodian cyclo-driver,
start buying organic vegetables and expensive soy substitutes. To look
down on entire cultures that've based everything on the gathering of
fish and rice seemed arrogant in the extreme to me. (I've heard of
vegans feeding their dogs vegetarian meals. Now that's cruelty to
animals.) And the hypocrisy of it all pissed me off. Just being able to
talk about this issue in reasonably grammatical language is a
privilege, subsidized in a yin/yang sort of way, somewhere, by somebody
taking it in the neck. Being able to read these words, no matter how
stupid, offensive, or wrongheaded, is a privilege, your reading skills
the end product of an education most of the world will never enjoy. Our
whole lives--our homes, the shoes we wear, the cars we drive, the food
we eat---all built on a mountain of skulls. Meat, say the PETA folks,
is 'murder.' And yes, the wide world of meat eating can seem like a
panorama of cruelty at times. But is meat 'murder'? Fuck no.
Murder, as one of Khmer pals might tell you, is what his next-door
neighbor did to his whole family back in the seventies. Murder is what
happens in Cambodia, in parts of Africa, Central and South America, and
in former Soviet republics when the police chief's son decided he wants
to turn your daughter into a whore and you don't like the idea. Murder
is what Hutus do to Tutsis, Serbs to Croats, Russians to Uzbeks, Crips
to Bloods. And vice versa. It's black Chevy Suburbans (which, more than
likely, US taxpayers paid for) pulling up outside your house at three
in the morning and dragging away your suspiciously unpatriotic and
overopinionated son. Murder is what that man sitting across from you in
Phnom Penh does for a living---so he can afford a satellite dish for
his roof, so he can watch our Airwolf
reruns, MTV Asia, and Pam Anderson running in slow motion down a
Southern California beach.
Hide in your homes and eat vegetables, I was thinking. Put a Greenpeace
bumper sticker on your Beemer if it makes you feel better (so you can
drive your kids to an all-white school). Save the rainforest---by all
means---so maybe you can visit it someday, on an ecotour, wearing,
comfortable shoes made by twelve-year-olds in forced labor. Save a
whale while millions are still sold into slavery, starved, fucked to
death, shot, tortured, forgotten. When you see cute little kids crying
in the rubble next to Sally Struthers somewhere, be sure to send a few
dollars.
Damn! I was going to try and be nice!{...}

Posted by: Kathy at 12:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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St. Laurent, behind Omaha Beach,

St. Laurent, behind Omaha Beach, is captured.

British advance on Caen is halted.

Canadian 9th Brigade reaches Beny.

Posted by: Kathy at 12:00 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Jesus, Mary and freakin' Joseph.

Jesus, Mary and freakin' Joseph.

United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan said on
Thursday he was planning to travel to strife-torn Sudan, adding that
the UN was pressing the Khartoum government to allow humanitarian
workers freer access to Darfur.
"I myself expect to visit Sudan soon," Annan told reporters at UN
headquarters in New York. He called on the Sudanese government to
protect its own civilians, saying: "It is the responsibility of the government to protect the population, and we need to encourage it and must insist it does it."

{emphasis mine}

What the hell?

Crikeys, Kofi, it's the government of Sudan that's providing air support to the Janjaweed militias. They're in on the action.
It's pretty darn clear to me. Why isn't it clear to you? Be logical: do
you honestly think that the militias, which predominantly use horses
as their main source of transportation, have access to bombers and
helicopters? That they just use the horses because they choose to? Like
its a matter of personal preference? No, I don't want to drive around in a jeep! I much prefer my trusty Arabian steed to get me to the killing!
Horsemen have access to helicopters? Maybe in the movies, because it
makes for a compelling graphical rendition, but in reality? I think
not. Do you honestly think the legally recognized government in
Khartoum gives a flaming rat's ass that people are being killed in
Darfur? No. The legally recognized government of Sudan, the one headed
up by General Omar Bashir, the same one you think should be protecting
the average black muslim in Darfur, wants these people gone and they're
willing to help the Janjaweed militia do just that. Furthermore, do you
think that your arrival on the scene will actually do
anything? Obviously, you do because you're delusional. They'll provide
you with a fine place to stay. They'll set up a room at the Khartoum
Hilton for talks. They'll make sure there are children with flowers to
greet you so you don't think they're complete barbarians. But when you
actually sit down to talk with them, they'll nod politely, they'll
pretend that what you say actually matters, they'll reply in a
concerned, yet respectful voice by saying, "we understand your
concerns," and then they'll kick your ass out the damn door, Kofi,
because it's not in their interest to follow the dictates of
international law, nor do they think it's necessary to follow
the dictates of international law. They just don't care, Kofi, and you
just don't get that, do you? They don't care about your diplomacy, your
definition of human rights, your worldview---none of it means a damn
thing to them. They don't recognize anything that you care about. When
are you going to learn this?

Posted by: Kathy at 11:59 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Ok, I'm bleary eyed, but

Ok, I'm bleary eyed, but I'm back.

Yesterday was filled with stupid household stuff. Cleaning the toilet, the shower, dusting, vacuuming, etc. Real
exciting stuff which nonetheless needed to be done. I also did laundry
yesterday. Five loads in as many hours. Sounds like a lot to be hauling
up and down three flights of stairs in between cleaning fits, doesn't
it? Well, it was, particularly when you take into account that I was running
up and down those three flights of stairs. Why was I in such a rush?
Well, the highlight of the day was an epic battle between the Pakistani
Grandma who lives downstairs and myself for sole control of the washer
and dryer which we share.
The couple who shares the Cake Eater House with us (it's a duplex, only
they live below us, not next to us)are both doctors. Busy
doctors. The husband just finished up with his residency; the wife has
passed her boards and is working on her internship. They also have a
darling two-year-old boy who's the sweetest thing since lollipops were
invented. He's a darling. Mom and son spent most of the winter in
Pakistan visiting family, avoiding the Minnesota cold and snow, and had
serious trouble getting out of the country because of the big terrorist
scare that happened. Part of this trip, also was to visit extended
family. But when they finally arrived back here in Cake Eater Country,
Grandma came with them. This was their child care solution: they were
tired of little boy going to daycare and always becoming ill, so
Grandma watches him during the day and also does all of the houshold
chores, too.
Apparently, she loves washing clothes. And drapes. And sofa covers. And
rugs. She loves
washing rugs, so much so that there's always little bits of rubber
backing in the lint filter (which she NEVER empties! Yesterday's
emptying of the lint filter produced three inches (three inches!)
worth of lint. YUCK! The house is either going to burn to the ground or
I'm going to spontaneously combust from always having to empty that
damn thing---either way flames will be involved.). Anyway, since she
moved here, the washer and dryer are always in use. Now, I don't ask for much, but a little time to complete the washing that's necessary for my
household to run doesn't seem like too much. Considering our lease
gives us that right. And I want that time during the day, not in the
middle of the night, when I'll fall down the stairs because I'm tired.
But that's about the only time Grandma would allot me if I let her,
despite the concessions I've already granted them. I used to do laundry
once a week. Then I decided that wasn't really necessary because a. we
had enough underwear to take us through to two weeks and b. they had
more clothes with a small kid, they're both doctors with busy
schedules, and I ultimately decided I should leave them extra time and
space to help them out. I will admit, this has inconvenienced me at
times. But it hasn't been a big deal until Grandma came to visit. She's
taken advantage of the situation and I've had it. No more will I be the
one who bends in this contest of wills. Well, Grandma doesn't see it
this way. She thinks I should be the one who bends. Apparently, even
one day every two weeks is too much to ask for. Yesterday I was forced
into demanding it. Utilizing my "I will not bend" philosophy, I braced
myself and took my first load of whites downstairs. Of course, I had to
move their stuff out of both the washer and dryer to get access
(something I hate doing; it makes me feel like I'm violating their
privacy). Then I started my load, hoping I was in the clear for the
day. And I even conveniently let them use my basket because I didn't
want to put their clean, dry clothes on top of the dryer, lest they
fall off onto the filthy basement floor (which Tweedledumb, the
manager, is responsible for cleaning, but has yet to do). A
humanitarian, am I not? I'm a good person. Well, I was not in the
clear. Grandma promptly shot a cannonball across my bow by placing a
BIG basket full of sheets on top of the washer, claiming her space in
line.
Screw that. I fired back, although I tried to be as nonconfrontational
about it as possible.
I snuck in my five loads, running up and down the stairs every hour at
twenty past the hour, just so she didn't get ideas, and her big basket
full of sheets sat there, mocking me, the whole time. I even ran into
her on the stairs outside of their apartment and she smiled at me, and
I chatted with the little boy while he showed me his 3-D glasses and
everything was nice and friendly, but you could see the annoyance in
her eyes as she heard the washer switch from fill to agitate. I just
smiled sweetly. She doesn't have enough English to complain; I didn't
say anything because a. she wouldn't have understood it and b. I hate
confrontations. The conflict was there: we just didn't verbalize it.
(Although, I'm pretty sure that if I spoke either Arabic or Urdu she
would have gone off on me.) I think she'd finally had it when I washed
my duvet cover (last load of the day) and when I went down to put it in
the dryer, it was already tumbling. I wasn't surprised. I'd gotten
sidetracked and was a few minutes late making the switchoff. Guess what
was also there? THREE
baskets full of washable items. The sheets that had been mocking me all
day long were in the washer, but there were drapes, towels, and clothes
lined up neatly, all waiting their turn in the washer. I swear to God
she went through the house and started throwing stuff into baskets. You
name it, it was next to the washer, just waiting to be agitated into
cleanliness. I chuckled and went back upstairs: her primacy, her
position as the Napoleon of the Laundry Room, was fully restored, but I
didn't care all that much as my laundry was done. This will not be the
case in two weeks. Another battle will be fought. Wounds will be
sustained, yet we will both survive to fight another day. This was just
the first battle in what I forsee to be a long war. Who will win?
That's anybody's best guess, but I'm going to do my damndest to make
sure I don't lose. I know, this is really thrilling stuff that's
keeping you on the edge of your seat, no? Heh. But this is my life. As
soon as I get jacked back into the web, I'll start blogging about stuff
that really matters.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:53 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Is that all you got,

Is that all you got, bitch?

UPDATE Outer Life has a fiver on Lizzie.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:45 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Seldom Sober has his Blogs

Seldom Sober has his Blogs Across America itinerary up.
I think this is a fabulous idea. If you're going to roadtrip, why not
meet some new people along the way? Particularly if you're a blogger,
because it's not like there's any shortage of verbose people who wield
their keyboard like a sword, are there? Given the massive numbers of
bloggers out there, hell, SS could conceivably be stopping every five
miles or so. So, this is a great idea and this is why I volunteered to
host him for a night. Besides, I would like to meet him. It could be a
life-enriching experience, no? And there's a good chance booze will be
involved and I always like that. But I also want to go and figure out
where Lileks lives, and I figure it would be best if I had company with
me for that. Cuts down on the psycho factor. (At least I hope it does.)
And SS is completely up for it. The only problem I have with this whole
scenario right now is that the pressure for me to be the hostess with
the mostest is on. You see, SS's last stop before hitting the Cake Eater Pad is in Colorado Springs where Martini Boy and his lovely wife live. Then he comes here.

HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO LIVE UP TO THAT?
Vodkapundit's house is gourmand central. There will be erudite
conversation over a five course meal, replete with cocktails (martinis,
of course), a few bottles of good wine, and some sort of flaming
dessert. After which, there will be more good conversation and more
booze ingested. It will probably be the night of SS's life. And I'm the
one who has to follow that. I'm going to be the rebound blogger
hostesss after Martini Boy dumps him and changes the locks. This is
what I will have to live up to. He will set the bar high and everyone
who comes after him on the itinerary will, henceforth, probably suck in
the hosting department no matter how hard we try. The pressure is on.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:41 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Teh Funny

Teh Funny

Posted by: Kathy at 11:41 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I realize work is boring

I realize work is boring and you'll try and do anything to allieviate
said boredom, but honestly, I have other things to do today rather than
entertain you people with my wit and wisdom (ha! that's a laugh!). I am
reverting to haus frau mode today. The house must be cleaned. The
clothes must be washed, etc. so on and so forth. Blogging will be
sporadic if non-existent until this evening.
But, like a good mother, I will give you a virtual coloring book and
some nice fat crayolas to keep you out of my hair while I get things
done around the house.
Go read Hitchens. It's
nice and long and juicy enough that should keep you occupied and out of
trouble. Be good. And if you're still bored after reading Hitch, well,
there are links on the left hand side of the blog. Go forth in search
of bloggy goodness.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:26 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I've been meaning to post

I've been meaning to post a link to Me and Ophelia,
a fabulous blog written by the very clever and very attentive Ingrid
Jones.
She's been singularly focusing on Darfur for quite some time and has
been doing a fantastic job with it. I've been remiss in not sending you
over there sooner, so go over in droves and give her a
Cakeeaterlanche---if such a thing is possible. She deserves it. Go over
and read what she has to say. It's well worth your time.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:25 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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...or put your fat fingers

...or put your fat fingers to the keyboard in my case. Who knew that
I'd ever get an email from someone who writes for the Weekly Standard?

Yesterday, I kinda blasted Jonathan Last about his Opinion Journal piece about Saved!

Much to my surprise, I received this email from him in response:

Dear Kathleen,

Go see Saved! and I think you will indeed want to do a take back. I'm a
Catholic (and not an evangelical one, either ), so I have no dog
in this fight. And I love good dark satires, like Election. But what
Saved! does is only use dark satire against one particular set of
characters (the fundamentalists) while being quite sentimental about
another group (those who don't believe in God). Which, in my book,
turns it from a dark satire to a pretty mean-spirited tract.

Have good weekend; love the blog.

Best,
JVL

Here I thought I was spouting off to only a select few. Hmmph. Behold the Power of Search Engines! Ok, I am going to go and see it sometime soon and if necessary, I will indeed post a big takeback.

Just for the record, I did resist the urge to ask him if Bill Kristol is really as uptight as he seems on TV.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:15 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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INDC Journal spent his Memorial

INDC Journal
spent his Memorial Day weekend at the dedication of the new WWII
Memorial, chatting with vets, listening to their stories and taking
photos. He did a marvelous job. Go.Read.It.

Posted by: Kathy at 11:08 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Hmmph. To which I reply:

Hmmph.

To which I reply: "How's that stoma treating you, Ned?"

(Don't Forget and spread the word---Jane Austen Cage Match next week.)

Posted by: Kathy at 11:04 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Fishy. Sounds a wee bit

Fishy.

Sounds a wee bit familiar,
doesn't it?
Yes, they focused more on WMD, but the fact we both invoked the name of
Wild Bill Dononvan is odd. That they also said it's an opportunity is
odd. That we both talked about Tenet's savviness and his inability to
think outside the box. Hmmmm.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:49 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Chrenkoff has a good roundup

Chrenkoff has a good roundup of articles related to Kofi's decision to take Colin Powell with him to Khartoum.

The government-backed irregular ethnic cleansers will be
bombarded into submission with Colin Powell, Kofi Annan and the foreign
ministers of France, Italy and Switzerland. In case the diplomatic
heavy guns would prove insufficient, you can always try more aid. In
fact, as Fox reports, "Powell to Ask Sudan's Leaders to Allow Aid". It
would only be a slight exaggeration to compare the current scenario to
the Allies asking the Nazis to allow food parcels into Auschwitz.

He's completely correct. The inmates are running the asylum and asking
them to take their medication, as opposed to ramming it down their
throats, simply isn't going to work in this situation. The absurdity of
it all is just astounding. I suppose one could say that this is one of
the bad side-effects of going unilateral, says she with the sarcasm
dripping, on Iraq: I---and many others---just don't have patience for
the UN anymore. They want to talk everything to death, and when more
talk means people dying in Sudan, I fail to see how that talk is
purposeful. Particularly when the UN and the US are asking for access
to people whom their own government is helping to annihilate.

Posted by: Kathy at 10:44 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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