Well, it's Friday evening and I'm drunk before 7. If it's bad song lyrics you want, it's bad song lyrics you got. Friday night also means a new music upload for you. Combining both subjects I bring you The Left Rights with Take a Shit
Blame the Tequila and the stressed out week. I apologize in advance.
I have tons of bad song lyrics. I'm sure you do too. But these take the cake.
I promise to put better music up later. Would you prefer punk or metal?
Shit, I wanna take a shit
Everybody wanna take a shit
Come on come on
Shit, I wanna take a shit
Everybody wanna take a shit
Shit, I wanna take a shit
Everybody wanna take a shit
Come on come on
Shit, I wanna take a shit
Everybody wanna take a shit
I will now tell you about the poo
If you dont drop the poo
The poo dumps you
If you dont drop the poo
The poo dumps you
You all go to school and learn about the poo
Shit ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Come on come on
Shit ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Come on come on
Cats, I wanna check the cats (meow)
Everybody wanna check the cats (MEOW)
Come on come on
Shit, I wanna take a shit
Everybody wanna take a shit
Shit, do do do do do do do do do
Come on come on do do do do do do do do do
I will now tell you about the poo
If you dont drop the poo
The poo dumps you
If you dont drop the poo
The poo dumps you
You all go to school and learn about the poo
You should be reading Chris Muir's Day by Day.
I've been thinking about this one and kept putting it on the back burner. I needed to let my rage calm down to at least a simmer before I could compose a rational thought on the subject.
In the two years since I've been keeping this weblog, I have kept tabs on PETA and wrote about them often. So it comes as no big shock to me that PETA has compared the victims of the Holocaust with turkeys and chickens.
PETA and other animal activist organizations like ALF have long held that animals are deserving of the same, if not more, rights than humans. I've read far too many articles where some militant animal activist declares that he would still protest animal testing even if it meant a cure for AIDS or cancer could be found by using animals.
That kind of thinking goes beyond reason to me. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that there exists a group of people who put the Holocaust on the same level as meat packing.
The images used in PETA's display are alarming, frightening and hateful. Again, this should not be a surprise. This is the same group that handed out bloodied cardboard crowns to children at Burger King and told these kids that their parents are murderers. They played the terrorist card after 9/11, equating eating meat with terrorism.
Look at the images on this page. Who in their right mind can compare those children to pigs? This is not activism. It is careless, reckless manipulation.
Decades from now, what will you tell your grandchildren when they ask you whose side you were on during the “animals’ holocaust”? Will you be able to say that you stood up against oppression, even when doing so was considered “radical” or “unpopular”? Will you be able to say that you could visualize a world without violence and realized that it began at breakfast?
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Many of the people I personally know who support PETA and their tactics also support the mass killings of Jews by suicide bombers, want to free cop killers from jail and would rather see children starve than eat genetically grown food.
Another case of "how good will this make me feel when I go to bed tonight?" The self-absorbed leftists strike again.
Excuse me while I go participate in something called the food chain.
Arthur has a much more reasonable expose on this issue.
If you would like to contact me regarding TROOPtrax, you can now reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
I figured out how Fox can capitalize on the success of Joe Millioniare.
See, they can't actually have a second season of the show, because the "surprise" is already known and no one would sign up to be a contestant. So, new season, new twist.
The dude is suave and worldy. He has the papers to prove that he is indeed worth two billion dollars.
The girls swoon over this tall, dark and handsome man who needs a translator.
Of course, the twist revealed at the end is that he is a ruthless dictator.
Will the winner stay with him and share in his millions even though the rest of his country is starving and he regularly tortures people?
Or will she do a quick check of her morals and realize all the riches in the world are not worth shacking up with a man who hides anthrax in his basement?
I guess that all depends on whether the contestants are culled from the current crop of human shields or not.
Up next: Joe Multi-Millionaire: How good do you look in a suicide bomber belt, girls?
In what will probably become a regular feature of this blog, reader Bill takes on another Ted Rall strip.
Remember folks, this is parody.
Click for bigger images
Excellent work, Bill!
Oliver floats a balloon:
I've been thinking a lot about post-Saddam Iraq and all the argument about what should and can be done to the country. I think bloggers and other concerned citizens should come up with a list of certain rights, freedoms, governmental structures that we feel would really put Iraq on the word to an actual, living democracy. I'll have mine up sometime tomorrow.
Interesting concept. I think all bloggers who have been writing about the war - pro or con - should take part in this.
I also couldn't help noticing that the Amazon ad on Oliver's site was currently touting Ann Coulter's Slander while I was there.
*the title is not a good one for this post, I just always wanted to use it.
Someone posted this story on Indymedia, perhaps in an effort to get people to think twice about who and what they are supporting by becoming human shields.
"It was my 30th birthday on the day my father and I tried with others to escape into Saudi Arabia. We were captured, taken back to Kuwait City and then placed in a camp beside an oil refinery to prevent allied bombing of key installations.
"We were made to work all day on cleaning duties, and given little to eat and drink. After three months, I was taken back to Kuwait and then to Baghdad. That was the last time I saw my dad. They moved him around and he suffered a heart attack and died."
She added: "The war can't come soon enough as far as my family is concerned. My mother never recovered from my father's death."
Hundreds of westerners - including everyone on a British Airways flight to India that had stopped to refuel and a seven-year-old British boy, Stuart Lockwood - were taken to Iraq after the invasion.
Most women and children were quickly released. French hostages were set free in October. German citizens were released in November, followed by Japanese.
The remaining hostages, most of them British and Americans, were kept until December.
Wendy Major and her father were real human shields. They were taken against thier will and forced to guard locations that were in danger of being bombed. They did not do this voluntarily.
They were moved between power stations, oil refineries, military installations and factories, as their captors tried to cover possible bomb targets. They were watched by armed guards at all times. Many suffered dysentery and some caught cholera.
The men and women that are in Iraq right now, posing as human shields, have no idea what it means to be just that. They are walking around Iraq like tourists, staying in hotels and signing up to guard hospitals, schools and homes of senior citizens; places least likely to be bombed.
Who will be surprised when these naive sympathizers of Saddam are taken by Iraqi guards and forced to stand by oil refineries and army bases? Who will be shocked when the first "human shield" dies at the hands of the Iraqi army?
No one should be shocked or surprised, and the only people who will claim to be horrified at this turn of events will be the human shields themselves, who refused to acknowledge that Saddam is a ruthless human being who cares little about the lives of others, especially westerners.
Charlene Coutre, an American banker who was held in Kuwait and Iraq for 132 days after refusing to leave her husband, describes the peace volunteers as thoroughly selfish.
"They haven't thought about the consequences if allied forces have to rescue them because they have been so foolish. What are they going to say to the families of dead soldiers who have tried to rescue them?"
Her husband, Stuart Williams, 58, was beaten with rifle butts and forced to eat from a rubbish-filled ditch at a Kuwaiti oil refinery before being taken to Iraq and placed at a military base south-west of Baghdad.
There, he said Iraqi forces tested chemical weapons on dogs by night.
"They're not human shields," he said of the volunteers. "They have no idea what it's like to be beaten, shot at or imprisoned."
Mr Eliopoulos urged the peace activists to support regime change. "If these people are concerned about the welfare of the Iraqi people, they should think first and foremost about what kills the Iraqi people; makes the Iraqi people suffer today".
And what is the leftist answer to this eye-opening story?
The lone comment on this thread reads as follows:
More CIA troll crap by Prescott Bush money man to the 3rd Reich 6:01am Thu Feb 27 '03 You really are a despicable low life aren't you.
When profits it thee to sell thyself for the entire world and lose thy soul?
But then again you have no soul, so you are beating the devil, aren't you? Enjoy hell.
Typical response in that anything that goes against the leftist point of view or points the folly of their beliefs is quickly deemed a CIA plot, a lie or propaganda.
They do not want to see the reality of the situation and, unfortunately, reality will smack them in the face with a 2X4 when they find themselves unwillingly guarding an Iraqi military installation and being tortured, starved and beaten in the process.
Over $1,000 donated already. That's ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.
I want to start posting some of the emails I've received from service members, along with constant updates of how the project is progressing. I'll be working on both the site and the project all weekend, so bear with me while things slow down for a bit during the day today. There's not much I can do from my office without an internet connection.
If you are linking to TROOPtrax, please use the new URL. Thanks!
I have to get to bed. This has been an exhausting day.
Sorry for the lack of real posting, I will get back on track tomorrow.
Sorry to all those I left stranded on AIM. I left to do laundry and never came back.
Thank you everyone who made this day so wonderful. My faith in humanity and the genorisity and kindness of people has been validated.
* My favorite bugs bunny episode. Ever.
Can I just say HOLY SHIT!?
I never expected this kind of response at all. The best part is I heard from so many service people - active and retired - who offered all kinds of help in getting the packages to the troops. They love the idea of having music sent over.
A couple of thanks for the moment:
Heather, who is donating the cds she had listed at Half.com
Michael Santana, a musician who is donating 20 of each of his three cds.
Keith from GI Party, whose brain I am going to pick endlessly through this whole thing.
Glenn for the Instalanche that sent quite a few donors over here.
Robb Allen, for the fantastic logo:
And, especially, all the donors so far who (in just seven hours) have donated 600 dollars.
If someone can help me install a new blog onto my copy of Moveable Type, I would be forever grateful.
And I promise to get back to regular blogging tomorrow. Right now I am overwhelmed by the generosity of my readers and the blogosphere in general. Our troops are going to be very happy.
UPDATE: Heh. An hour's work and I got this far. It's slowly coming back, I think.
Working on making a separate page for the project. Whew, I cannot keep up with all the good emails!
Thanks to everyone who linked and everyone who donated so far. I put this idea up at 2pm today and I already have collected more than
300500 dollars! Plus, this band has donated 50 copies of thier cd.
I now have a name for the project, thanks to Michael Demmons -
As soon as I force myself to remember my HTML skills to get the new page ready, I will work on a button that says "TROOPtrax" in case you would like to use a button to link. Plus, I'll make up stickers to put in with all the packages.
So blogging might be a bit light tonight while I work on this project.
Again, thank you to Carol, who was the impetus behind this drive, and Stacy whose idea it was to use half.com, and everyone who has made what is going to be a time-consuming project totally worth doing.
And a special thanks to those soldiers who emailed me with lists of other things they could use besides CDs - though I have to say they sound really excited about getting a fresh batch of music.
Ok, onward with the HTML re-educuation.
Carol says we shouldn't buy any music on this list. Heh.
A good news/bad news/good news sort of thing.
So I get home and finally get into my Yahoo mailbox after not accessing it all day. The first thing I see is notices from Paypal. I've collected over $100 already for the Music for the Troops project. Thank you to those donaters.
The other five emails are from people saying things like:
This is a really stupid idea. As stupid as your Pizza for the IDF idea.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. It's never going to work. Stop pushing the issue. Do something uselful with your time, like getting a life. Stop supporting Bush's terrorism.
Anyhow, fuck y'all. I'm just trying to do something good here and I don't need your negative vibes. Didn't your mama tell you if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all?
I think there are people around here who are just not happy unless they are bullying someone.
Anyhow, I've received some good ideas to put in the packages besides CDs. If I get enough donations, I'll add some comic books and coffee to each package.
Four people have come up with specific addresses to send the stuff to, so we don't have to mark it "Any Serviceman," ensuring it will get there.
You can send me anything you want that's appropriate to put into the packages. The CDs are the main thing but other than that, I'm getting lists of stuff we can add to the boxes. If you donate through Paypal, drop a little note with your donation if you want your money to go to either a specific CD or something else, like coffee, aspirin, etc.
If anyone wants to check and see what MP3s are available to download - the ones out in the public domain and legal to download - that would be great.
UPDATE 3: People are concerned that any packages sent to non-specific servicemen (as in "ANY SERVICEMAN) will not be opened due to anthrax issues. I am in the midst of compiling a list of specific people who are already over there, so the packages will be shipped to them and shared with their platoon. If you know of a service person who might want to receive and share a package of CDs with his troop, please let me know.
I hope I have addressed all of your concerns. Some of the email I received today has been downright nasty and dismissive concerning this project.
UPDATE 2: Several people have suggested using Half.com to buy cds for as little as 5 dollars a pop, or raiding your own cd collection. Both those ideas are worthy.
I was thinking that this would have been a great thing, because I would have sent packages to a few different platoons and they could have opened a huge box filled with CDs.
So as long as you people trust me, and I've never given you a reason not to, we can work this two ways:
1. Deposit a few bucks in the Paypal tip jar with a note as to what CDs or type of music you would like it to go towards.
2. Buy the CDs from Half.com and have them shipped to me. I really like the idea of sending out entire packages from the blogging community.
I would still do the whole thing with the lists of names and notes from everyone who participated.
Is this workable? What do you think?
To the two generous people who already left money in the PayPal account this afternoon, I will use that money to purchase CDs if that is ok with you.
UPDATE: The road to hell, etc.
Obviously, this (deleted post) was not a good idea as I have been informed that the soldiers could be court-martialed for having MP3s.
If anyone else has another way to show our support for the troops, let me know.
Excuse me while I go feel dejected.
(This post made possible by Lisa and e-mail).
There were several times during Dan Rather's interview with that despicable dictator last night where I had to turn the channel. At times I felt uncomfortable, at times I felt irate.
I just read the entire transcript of the interview.
Dan Rather should be ashamed of himself. He gave a full hour of television time to a tyrant, a murderer, a sadistic man who hates America. Rather did it unabashedly, without shame or trepidation. This charade of an interview was nothing more than a commercial for appeasement.
CBS should also be ashamed for airing this garbage. In a time where we are getting ready to go to war with Iraq, CBS is showing an hour long session of cozy coffee talk with the leader of that country.
What was the purpose of this interview? Have the ratings for the Michael Jackson feeding frenzy made the network execs go mad with hunger? This was the equivalent of Saddam Unplugged. I can almost here Rather and his bosses saying "Let's show the nice, gentle side of Saddam. Make sure he doesn't wear his military clothing. Focus on his face every time it looks like he may smile. It's about time Americans saw Saddam the humane, generous leader."
If they really want to jumpstart their ratings, CBS could make a season-long project out of this. Call it, Oh, the Humanity! Each week, Rather could interview someone who has a bad reputation. Coffee Talk with Arafat, where Yasser the Wonderful shows us how he knits sweaters for orphans in his spare time. Mugabe and Me, where Rather talks a long walk through the plains of Africa with Mugabe as they discuss his love of jigsaw puzzles and fluffy bunnies. My Dinner with Bud Selig.
Come on, let's give them a season's worth of Oh, the Humanity!
Lemon meringue. A perennial favorite of mine... there's a wholesome layer of melt-in-your-mouth fluffy goodness, and at the same time you're exposed to the lemon filling: always with a sweet, good-natured edge, but always tinged with a little bit of acidic bite that makes you sit up and pay attention.
For this, Gretchen has been made TupperWAR Lady of the Day!
What did I get out of Bush's speech last night, you ask? (I swear, some of you did ask).
Basically, this is what I heard:
To the Middle East: Quit it. Play nice, play fair or you are going to be really sorry when democracies are handed out and we skip right over you.
To Saddam: You are dead meat, buddy. In fact, you have already ceased to exist to me. Get the hell out of my way so I can get on with bringing peace and liberation to the people of your region.
To France and Germany: WhatEVER.
Basically, it was all just pretty words - nothing you don't already know if you read or watch the news every day. For those who were upset that Wheel of Fortune was pre-empted for the speech, well they were most likely surprised to find out that Bush wants to liberate Iraq and not blow the whole country into little bitty pieces.
Which really won't matter in the long run, because this battle started long ago. Now is the time to put up or shut up; to get moving with the real part of the war, stop with the speeches and addresses to the U.N. and just do it already.
By the way, did anyone really care what Saddam Hussein had to say to Dan Rather last night?
Television host Fred Rogers, better known simply as "Mister Rogers," died Thursday after a brief battle with stomach cancer, according to a spokeswoman for his production company.
My children never got into Mr. Rogers. I think he was too soft spoken and slow paced for them. Even I thought he was a bit too touchy-feely, a little too heavy on the "how do you feel" school of thought for me. He was Stuart Smalley for kids.
I never understood why there were kids who loved the show. Lady Elaine and the whole land of make-believe gave me the creeps. The treacly songs were gag-me-with-a-spoon sugary sweet. For a misanthrope like myself, the whole them of the show flew in the face of everything I believed in:
So, let's make the most of this beautiful day.
Since we're together we might as well say:
Would you be mine?
Could you be mine?
Won't you be my neighbor?
No wonder I didn't care for him. But millions of children did, and Fred Rogers - a television institution - will be missed by all of them.
I wonder if I'll be the first blogger to say "Mr. Rogers has hung up his sweater for the last time." Or, "He's gone on to the land of make believe in the sky."
So, about this Boobs for War thing. Or ASSasinate Saddam. Whichever you prefer.
I'm trying to figure out a way to turn this into a money making venture. No, not for me. Loyal reader Carol suggested I try to raise some money for the USO, to keep the troops happy.
If you have any ideas on how I could make Carol's dream of using boobs, asses and the wonderful hardbodies of men - in a non pornographic way - to raise money for this cause I would love to hear them.
Donahue is pouting that MSNBC cancelled his show.
That's kind of like saying the dog-shit flavored ice-cream is selling much better than the elephant-dung flavor.
Of course they don't. To let exiled Iraqis speak would be to shoot a million holes in the theory that the anti-war crowd cares about the Iraqi people and the marches, rallies and battle cries are all about freedom.
The Iraqis had come with placards reading "Freedom for Iraq" and "American rule, a hundred thousand times better than Takriti tyranny!"
But the tough guys who supervised the march would have none of that. Only official placards, manufactured in thousands and distributed among the "spontaneous" marchers, were allowed. These read "Bush and Blair, baby-killers," " Not in my name," "Freedom for Palestine," and "Indict Bush and Sharon."
Not one placard demanded that Saddam should disarm to avoid war.
The goons also confiscated photographs showing the tragedy of Halabja, the Kurdish town where Saddam's forces gassed 5,000 people to death in 1988.
That is Amir Taheri, writing about the day he spent with the protesters, trying to get the voice of Iraqi people heard. Instead, the voices were stifled.
Salima Kazim, an Iraqi grandmother, managed to attract the reverend's attention and told him how Saddam Hussein had murdered her three sons because they had been dissidents in the Baath Party; and how one of her grandsons had died in the war Saddam had launched against Kuwait in 1990.
"Could I have the microphone for one minute to tell the people about my life?" 78-year-old Salima demanded.
The reverend was not pleased.
"Today is not about Saddam Hussein," he snapped. "Today is about Bush and Blair and the massacre they plan in Iraq." Salima had to beat a retreat, with all of us following, as the reverend's gorillas closed in to protect his holiness.
Mr. Taheri and his Iraqi friends will never be allowed to say what they want during an anti-war rally for one simple reason - those protests are not about war at all. They are not about Saddam Hussein or liberating the Iraqi people. The Iraqi cause is just a cover for what the leftist movement is really about: America is bad. Bush is bad. Blair is bad. It's about the economy and the enivornment and class warfare; those are all noble causes, and I would not mind hearing the views of those rallying around such issues in the proper venue.
The women and children of Iraq are being used by the anti-globalization, Jew-hating, anti-leather/meat crowd to further their pet causes. They go naked for peace and hold up signs saying No War, but the real point of these marches is to bring down capitalism and rail against George Bush.
The Iraqis would had much to tell the "antiwar" marchers, had they had a chance to speak. Fadel Sultani, president of the National Association of Iraqi authors, would have told the marchers that their action would encourage Saddam to intensify his repression.
"I had a few questions for the marchers," Sultani said. "Did they not realize that oppression, torture and massacre of innocent civilians are also forms of war? Are the antiwar marchers only against a war that would liberate Iraq, or do they also oppose the war Saddam has been waging against our people for a generation?"
Sultani could have told the peaceniks how Saddam's henchmen killed dissident poets and writers by pushing page after page of forbidden books down their throats until they choked.
Yet if Ashcroft even talks about taking away a civil liberty in his sleep, there will be a dozen protesters standing outside his bedroom door in the morning calling him Hitler. Hey, I'm all for civil liberties, I don't want them taken away either. I'm just curious why nobody is protesting the lack of civil liberties in Iraq. I'm wondering why all these poets and artists and authors who signed the Not In Our Name petition aren't crying out against Saddam Hussein for killing the poets and artists and authors of Iraq.
Because it doesn't matter, that's why. These people care as much about the citizens of Iraq as they do about Ted Nugent. That is to say, not at all.
The hallmark of a far left liberal is the need to feel good about themselves. The notches they mark in the belts are those of intentions, not deeds. If it made them feel good to carry a sign that says "Bush is a Baby Killer," then that's all that matters.
They lay naked in the grass, spelling out peace and love and happiness, their bodies entwined in a Twister-like spelling bee acted out in a language only those leaning over the left edge of the fence can understand. They go home feeling accomplished, smug and self-satisfied because their intentions were noble and worthy.
Little does it matter to them that the citizens of Iraq want to be liberated. They want America to come and free them. They don't know that because they will not let the Iraqi people speak. They do not want to hear that their cause is not just, that this ruse of marching for peace is going to unfold before their eyes if they let just one person tell of the torture and death inside the borders of Iraq.
They will just keep those blinders on, keep marching with their anti-Bush and anti-America signs, keep rallying around Mumia, keep listening to Chomsky, keep voting for people like Cynthia McKinney, keep on keeping on while the rest of us listen to the right people and do the right thing. Not because it makes us feel good; because it is going to make the people of Iraq feel good.
As Amire Taheri says at the end of the linked article:
Let us hope that when Iraq is liberated, as it soon will be, the world will remember that it was not done in the name of Rev. Jackson, Charles Kennedy, Glenda Jackson, Tony Benn, and their companions in a march of shame.
(This post made possible by Lisa and e-mail).
I miss you. I miss my blogroll. It's only the first day and already I am homesick.
At least with Moveable Type I can have the comments emailed to my work address so I still feel as if I have the comforts of home with me. But oh, how sad it is to read your words and see the link to your blogs in the mail and not be able to reach out and read you.
This no news diet is really hard. I'm so used to a steady diet of FoxNews, CNN, Opinon Journal...all those goodies have been banished from my daily routine now. I don't know what the latest stories are. I don't know if CNN has their bright red emergency bar up. Maybe Michael Jackson abducted a kid. Maybe Saddam has agreed to move in with Chirac. I feel so out of touch. Sure, we have printed news here. But the New York Law Journal just doesn't have the same feel as The Corner.
I know that on the other side of this silent internet connection of mine are people clamoring for boobies and ass. That makes me miss you even more. You all do so much to warm my heart each day with your calls for naked women and hard bodies, it's hard to go from 8 til 5 without that.
Well, the counselors are calling me. We're having a survival class now - Living Without Looking at your Stats Twenty Times a Day. After that, there will be a special intervention session for those of us going through Instapundit withdrawal.
Until 6:00, I'll be thinking of you all.
P.S. Send blog posts through email. Don't make me live like this. Please.
Hello Blogosphere. This is Michele's sister, Lisa, testing out this blogging thing. I may post pro-American, pro-military, pro-war, conservative views here from time to time. I hope you don't mind. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
Just a little note to one of the drones at Indymedia:
You titled your post "Fleisher unconsciously urges presidential assassination"
Nevermind your use of the word unconsciously. I'll let that go. What bothers me is you refer to the potential war-related killing of Saddam Hussein as a presidential assasination.
Now, I don't know about you, but I would say calling Saddam a president is engaging in a bit a of semantics. He was not really elected so much as he was put into office through fear and death threats.
It's just interesting that you people refuse to call Bush the president because you insist he "stole" the election, yet when it suits the situation, you claim Saddam to be a legitimate world leader.
What's really interesting about Dan Rather's interview with Saddam is that it was set up by Ramsey Clarke.
I guess Ramsey is a mutual friend of Saddam and Dan.
Strange bedfellows, indeed.
So much to blog, so little time. Work will seem a bit dreary today without access to the internet, but if my itchy blog fingers become uncontrolable, my sister has a login to this site and I can send her my posts via email. In case of war, break glass - that kind of thing.
First up today we have the lovely Sheryl Crow.
Then-First Lady Hillary Clinton, daughter Chelsea, Sheryl Crow, Army Secretary Togo West, and Admiral Leighton Smith perform at a show for U.S. troops at the Tuzla Air Base on March 25, 1996.
What is that she's doing in that picture? She's...she's....singing for the troops!
Via reader SondraK (via Rush Limbaugh) comes the news that Sheryl was a big believer in the war on Bosnia.
In an interview during Clinton's war on Bosnia, Crow stated:
Here are these people, from 18-year-olds to military veterans, enduring real duress for the cause of peace." The singer then gushed, "I don't ever want to play for a regular audience again, only military folks who are starving for music." She even did a special on VH1 titled: Sheryl Crow: A Postcard from Bosnia.
In fact, Crow also wrote a song about Bosnia:
There is a train that's heading straight
To heaven's gate, to heaven's gate
And on the way, child and man,
And woman wait, watch and wait
For redemption day
It's buried in the countryside
It's exploding in the shells at night
It's everywhere a baby cries
Where is her desire for the freedom of the babies crying in Iraq?
Somehow, I doubt she will be entertaining the troops in Iraq once the war starts. So why Clinton, why Bosnia? Why not now?
I wonder if Crow will come around from her Keep Saddam in Iraq stance and remember her desire to support our troops that are out there figthing for Redemption Day for the people of Iraq.
People ask me, "Michele, where are those boobies that everyone talks about?" They also ask, "Michele, shouldn't we be holding a Boobies For War rally?"
And then I ponder those two questions. And ponder.
What exactly would a Boobies for War rally entail? And how would it help the cause, except for the obvious benefit of boosting the morale of some of my readers?
The only thing more infuriating than horrible service at a restaurant is when the staff refuses to acknowledge that the service was horrible.
Just settling in for the evening. News and views in a bit.
And, by the way, the internet thing at work is not because anyone got in trouble. It's mostly self-imposed.
I also would like to thank everyone who hit the tip jar this month. My gratitude is immeasurable.
Internet access at work will cease to exist - permanently - in a matter of minutes.
I will no longer be blogging between the hours of 8am and 5pm.
It's for the best, really.
This is why I love hate mail. It gives me a reason to go on each day.
Today’s mailbag brings some spittle-faced deep thinker to the forefront:
“You know what you are? You are just a mouthpiece for Bush and The U.S. Army. They probably pay you to go around spreading your warmongering ideas. You use your website as both a church and a collection plate. You preach and preach and you collect people into your little basket and crush their spirit and turn them into warmongers just like you. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you aren’t even who you say you are, but a paid government employee whose job it is to write shit about the war and terror and get people all riled up. You are evil, just like you say you are and you think that’s funny but it’s not. You are what’s wrong with America, women like you who think your opinion is right, women who should be doing other things rather than writing about guns and tanks and bombs.”
This guy doesn’t know whether he’s a member of the leftist brigade or a spokesperson for the John Birch society.
Either way, he’s found me out. It’s true. You heard of the Tupperware Lady? Well I am the TupperWAR Lady, and I rule a vast organization of pearl-wearing, pot roast cooking women who go door to door in hopes of charming other women into becoming warmongers.
Morning, noon and night, all I do is attempt to convert anti-war or otherwise neutral women into war hungry Republicans. And I don't stop at the women, I get to their children, too. Every day after school I drop my kids off at the Very Young Republicans Club where they too can master the art of warmongering and pass it on to their friends. I mean, what's a war movement worth if it's not passed on from generation to generation?
During lunch I hop into my TupperWAR brand black Hummer and drive around picking up lonely housewives and confused anti-war protesters. I play Rush Limbaugh on the Hummer's stereo and face the speakers out the window. When people come running up to see what's going on (The "Free Cookies Here!" sign really helps), I chloroform them and throw them into the back seat. Then I drive around, chanting, "We Must, We Must, Bomb Iraq or Bust!" over and over again until osmosis has taken its toll and when my victims awake, they have this sudden taste for bombs and biological warfare.
We stop at the diner for some Liberty Fries and I school my new group in all matters of war. I read from Fox News transcripts and Ann Coulter columns. Then I take them back to my house where we are met by my coalition of TupperWar Women. It's like a big old revival meeting. We sing war songs and throw darts at pictures of Arianna Huffington. We pretend it's that U.N. meeting, but this time Powell gets up and shoots down Chirac. Blood! We love blood and violence!
This is what I do all day, every day. I knock on doors and hand out tracts extolling the virtues of nuclear bombs. I go to supermarkets and stick leaflets on car windows with pictures of Saddam's head being blown off. I take my group of women with me and we march through the parking lot chanting "What do we want? WAR! When do we want it? YESTERDAY!"
I go to Kindergarten classes and replace their Sesame Street flash cards with pictures of Michael Moore and Hilary Clinton. Bad! I tell the children. Bad! They repeat. By the end of the day they are kneeling reverently in front of a poster of Tony Blair and they can spell out KILL SADDAM with their little magnetic letters.
A TupperWAR Woman never rests. I am always working, always brainwashing, always calling for the death of some tyrannical dictator, or some French guy. I do all this in a day and still manage to cook a lovely dinner for my husband and get all the housecleaning done - while wearing a dress and high heels.
All in a day's work for the TupperWAR Woman.
If you see me standing on your doorstep with a nice jello mold in hand, you may not want to open the door.
"The idea that inspectors could conceivably sniff out the weapons and documentation relating to them without the help of Iraqi authorities is absurd," he said. "They are not a detective agency and even if they were Iraq is a country with a land mass roughly the size of France."
My infatuation with Tony Blair deepens.
*Skeletor, Masters of the Universe
Thank you to Robb Allen
Yea, it's been done before, but it's worth repeating.
Time for a lesson about a leader who gets panned. He wants to take on a bully. But trouble is, not many agree he is a bully.
They call the leader clueless.
The French foreign minister calls him reckless.
A Belgian diplomat says he risks ruining world order.
Opposition leaders at home call him a warmonger.
The bully himself says he not a bully and takes out ads in newspapers assuring the world he has no hostile intentions.
Those same newspapers call the leader arrogant. That he's wrong about the bully and that the leader's not in sync with the civilized world.
The Swiss pan him.
The Germans say they're offended.
Even regular folks in the leader's country say the leader's nuts. One newspaper calls him paranoid. Another, a "bellicose boob."
The leader is shunned. He won't go far, says one headline. The wrong man at the wrong time fighting the wrong war.
But this leader had it right. The bully had lied and the bully did attack. And this leader -- of an opposition party -- became the leader of a country.
You might have heard of him. His name was Winston Churchill. And the bully was Adolph Hitler.
Funny thing... history.
Short of opening a shooting range next door to a daycare center, buying an SUV is perhaps the single most antisocial act an ordinary American can commit.
So now I'm the moral equivalent of a baby killer?
Personally, I think the single most antisocial act an ordinary American can commit is having the balls to tell other people how to live and using destruction and violence to get your point across. As in, "SUVs have had their windows smashed in Washington, been spray-painted with anti-war slogans in Massachusetts and set ablaze by the lot full in Pennsylvania."
This isn't a rant about why I drive an SUV. I've done that a million times already. This is about people and their holier-than-thou attitudes when it comes to picking and choosing their specific little tirades against humanity.
More and more SUV drivers are coming out of stores to find their vehicles "keyed," stickered or worse, and SUVs are replacing fur coats as the spray paint target of choice. Sure it sucks, but can SUV owners complain? Vandalizing property is a mere misdemeanor next to willfully endangering other people's lives and hastening the demise of the planet.
Yea, because setting car lots on fire doesn't endanger anyone, right?
Ted can shit a toilet bowl full of his leftist ideals and I wouldn't do much except spray some Lysol. It's when he - and his cronies - try to equate anything anyone to the right of center does with murdering grannies and infants that I have to stop and question their hyperbole.
After all, Ted is the guy who slept with 70 women in one year just to have a place to stay each night. If sticking your dick in strangers night after night instead of getting a real job and your own place isn't the height of selfishness and arrogance, I don't know what is. For all his jaw-flapping, Ted Rall is the epitome of the attitude he prescribes to SUV drivers.
SUV drivers increase their own security at the expense of other drivers.
Insert "Men who sleep with women just for a warm bed" in place of SUV drivers and now you're talking.
Just saying, Ted. Don't try to come off as some moral high power when you lead a less than stellar existence yourself. Just because you don't drive an SUV doesn't mean you can start throwing rocks at everyone who does. We all live in glass houses, Ted.
People buy SUVs because they're imposing, so they can see over smaller cars. Is it shocking that drivers whose sight lines are blocked by these hulking machines, and who are blinded at night by the headlights of great overbearing tailgaters, are resentful?
What was that about the size of your penis?
How juvenile of me, I know. But I never presented myself as anything but. At least I'm honest about who I am.
I decided to not keep the quit meter on the site all the time. It works better if I think of myself as a non-smoker rather than someone in the process of becoming a non-smoker. But people ask - and thank you for inquiring - so I'll post this every once in a while to let you know how I'm doing.
I feel great. In fact, this is the best I have felt physically and mentally in many years. Not smoking is just part of that.
I think this is the time I never go back.
QuitMeter Counter courtesy of www.quitmeter.com.
I hesitate to post this, but what the hell. It's not like I have any standards left.
I emailed my co-worker Bonnie this morning and asked if she could kindly commence with sending me the usual Monday morning porn.
I guess I made a typo because this is what she sent:
Sure, it would be easy to just fix the typo and email her again. But no. I had to send her this (not safe for work, in some instances)
I think I have a future in pornographic comics, no?
No. Guess not.
Ah, another comic icon to throw on the woodpile with Ted Rall.
Aaron McGruder, creater of The Boondocks, gave a lovely speech at the University of Indiana last week.
I've always enjoyed Boondocks. Although I disagree with McGruder's politics, I still found his writing to be both funny and topical, and I liked his characters. They weren't always going on about the state of the world; I have several strips hanging in my office where Huey is playing video games.
During his speech at IU, McGruder gave the standard leftist cliches.
Americans have completely and totally lost control of their government.
Republicans do what psychotic, power- hungry megalomaniacs are supposed to do.
The Republicans play the political game the way it's supposed to be played — dirty, underhanded and messy, and violent. After that one brought out the old standby phrase, Republicans Killed Wellstone.
I don't care about any of that. He's free to espouse his views wherever he wants. I don't really care if he thinks Bush is Hitler or not. What I care about is this statement:
Speaking without notes and keeping up a give-and-take with the audience, he said his goal has been to get a provocative point of view into the newspapers by wrapping it in a cute package.
"Media manipulation is a wonderful thing," he said.
Basically, he just called me an idiot. I think it is reprehnsible for an artist to be so brazen, so arrogant about this. Sure, a lot of them do what McGruder admitted to doing. But to say it in such a way that he paints his readers as easily manipulated morons is beyond conceit.
McGruder managed to keep me interested in his work all this time even though we are polar opposites politically. He just lost me.
Go on, say I'm reading too much into his statement. That's what I took from it and I'm sticking by it.
So long, Huey, Riley, Caesar and Jazmine. Take care, Grandpa.
Bite me, McGruder.
Somehow I ended up on the Human Shield mailing list.
This priceless forward came today:
OK, everybody. I've got a really good action item for you. Bush has
just called for a retaliatory boycott of French, Belgian and German
products. So I think you see what's coming...
Yes, a really stupid idea.
I want everybody to go out and buy really a lot of French wine, Belgian chocolates, German beer, etc., etc. Eat, drink, be merry, give the stuff away. Have fun.
Ok, I'll bring the Rolaids.
Send Bush a letter telling him what a good time you're having. Email all your friends and urge them to do the same.
Hey, why don't you go whole hog and write the letters in French?
Let's start a huge nationwide anti-boycott! While you're at it, send GW
some nice imported German pretzels!
Eat enough French and German food and we'll be able to use bloated bodies as weapons of mass destruction.
If you stick to only using French, German and Beligian products, you better turn off that computer. Probably take off your clothes while you're at it. Hell, why don't you just get on the Concorde and fly your way over to France where you can wine and dine with the rest of the white flag brigade? I'm sure Jacques will think this little bit of activism is hilarious. Especially the part about the pretzels. Birds of feather and all.
This is activism I can get behind!
Speaking of behinds, Owen...
Anyone remember NCAA basketball before they had a shot clock?
March Madness would turn into March to Madness as the team with the lead towards the end of the game would play keep-away, handling the ball in a deliberate, slow manner in order to kill the clock.
Just passing. Back and forth. Back and forth. A bounce pass here. An overhand pass there. It was frustrating, especially when you knew how the game was going to end anyhow. It was always unlikely the other team was going to steal the ball and, even if they did, there generally wasn't enough time left on the clock for those two points to make a difference.
You just wanted that final buzzer to go off. You know?
Sean was discussing the highlights from Friday, when he was giving Robert Kennedy hell for his "SUVs are the Devil" stance.
Caller: Sean, you should have told Robert F. Kennedy Jr. that Uncle Teddy
would probably be President today if he was in an SUV with Mary Jo.
This one comes from one of my least favorite people in Hollywood, Joel Schumacher (as in...do I have to watch another piece of Shumacher?)
I think people always think success in show business gives them the right to be moral political arbiters. I'm not in that camp. I think you can privately do whatever you want, but I'm always suspicious of how much ego is involved. I think the government will survive no matter what Ed Norton thinks of it.
I guess I'll watch Lost Boys tonight in his honor. It's the only movie of his I can watch without cringing.
Worldnet link via Rita
People say the blogosphere is incestous and sycophantic like it's a bad thing.
I've decided to dedicate a song to Max. Feel free to sing along.
I started a joke
Which started the whole world crying
Oh but I didn't see
That the joke was on me...oh no..
And I started to cry
Which started the whole world laughing
Oh if I'd only seen
That the joke was on me
And I looked at the skies
Running my hands
Over my eyes
And I fell out of bed
Cursing my head
For things that I've said
Till I finally died
Which started the whole world living
Oh if I'd only seen
That the joke was on me
And I looked at the skies
Running my hands
Over my eyes
And I fell out of bed
Cursing my head
For things that I've said
Till I finally died
Which started the whole world living
Oh if I'd only seen
That the joke was on me
That the joke was on me.........me.........
Let me know if I left anyone out.
(Max also thinks the female blogger version of the Four Horsemen should be the Bunny-Boiling Babes. I'd rather eat the flesh of humans, myself.)
There once was a girl named Michele
Her name was spelled with one L
some spelled it with two
and i dread to tell you
the fate that they befell
Thank you. Come again.
In a way I’m glad that Fred Durst was the only one to speak out against the war. Sure, Fred’s monosyllabic gesture “I want it to go away,” wasn’t exactly Joan Baez material, but at least he said something.
Most of the stars are complaining that they were told ahead of time to not say a word about the war or anything political. Durst was the only with balls to stand up there and be a real dissident.
The point here is, all of these righteous, outspoken, in-your-face, louder than bombs protesters shrunk back from their dissident duties in the name of their careers.
Money talks, bullshit walks as the saying goes.
It’s a pretty sad commentary on the state of musical activists when Fred Durst is the only one who goes against the grain and speaks his mind. For the others, it’s a case of what’s more important to them - not facing the backlash of the Grammy committee or speaking out on an issue that they claim is the most important thing going on in the world right now. Trying to save lives, in their words, or trying to save the space on their shelves for future Grammy awards.
I see how it goes. These musicians are willing to speak out and lash out until you’re their ass is on the line. And then it’s every Iraqi child for themselves.
Fred Durst. Go figure.
Times sure have changed.
Today, we get a spiffy - if not intentionally humurous - website explaining how to stay safe, or at least not become the undead, in the event of any kind of attack.
Back during the days of the cold war, the government resorted to grainy, propaganda filled films, shown in movie theaters and classrooms. These films were often filled with horrifying imagery, hyperbole and safety information that played out like commercials.
Bert the Turtle was the spokes-animal for some of these films. Bert a was pretty appropriate figure to represent the duck-and-cover method of protecting yourself from an air raid, considering the only thing sticking your head between your legs accomplished was the equivilant of a turtle going into its shell. You're still going to die. At least you would be able to kiss your own ass goodbye.
Archive.org has acquired a plethora of these safety films from the cold war era. You can see the whole Bert the Turtle film here. After watching it, one might wonder, hmmm...not much difference now that you think about it. Duct tape is probably just as effective as cowering like a turtle.
There are films about biological warfare (ladies, keep your house clean!); demonstrations showing the effects of nuclear fallout, complete with surreal looking dummy. Does she look worried? Sick? Or just resigned to her imminent death? Perhaps she is just contemplating how the commies are going to take over her town and she didn't have time to mop the floor first.
While today's warnings are designed to alleviate panic (stay calm! go about our business!), yesterday's warnings seemed fit to only cause panic. The scenarios often painted in these short films seem more like preparation for an alien invasion than tales of wartime caution.
And if you didn't think duct tape and plastic sheeting were silly enough, then view this 1943 film brought to you by the makers of Clorox bleach. Hey, do you know what can keep you from dying in a gas attack? That's right, Clorox Bleach! Even a hot shower, some baking soda and water can make you clean and safe in just minutes. I'm gonna wash that gas right outta my hair!
Times sure have changed. Or have they? When you think about it, there's not much difference between Bert the Turtle and this. Or the propaganda films telling you to be on the lookout for enemies and this. It's just more colorful now and easier to make fun of.
I think they should start making these films again. I'm thinking "What To Do When You Spot A Celebrity with a No War Shirt," or "Human Shields: War Criminals or Just Idiots?"
Stay tuned for the next installment of The Weird World of Yesterday, when I take on the driver's ed scare films of the past.
NOTE: I am just going to add to this post instead of making any more posts.
UPDATE 4: (Yea, I turned the channel back). I have to admit, the Joe Strummer tribute is pretty cool. Only because I love Dave Grohl and Elvis C.
UPDATE 3: Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock, together at last. My brain just exploded.
In three minutes I'm turning this crap off whether it's over or not. I am going to wash the stench of this three hours of total crap off of my by watching Adult Swim.
Meatwad, save me!
UPDATE 2: What the hell is that thing? Oh my god, it's Aretha. My daughter wants to know if that's a portable pillow Aretha is wearing.
UPDATE: Say what you want about Eminem, I think he is incredibly talented.
Just my two cents.
Here comes the Bee Gees tribute.
Hey, at least I get to see Timberlake's ass again.
Just remember kids, no one sings "I Started A Joke" like Mike Patton.
Does it make me a bad person that I'm not moved in the least by tearful tributes during award shows. Just get on with the program, already.
Please note: If anyone tries to tell me anything about what I am missing on the final episode of OZ tonight (I'm watching it tomorrow), I will hunt you down, come to your house, piss in your garden and eat your pets for dinner.
You've been warned.
Did I ever tell you about my hatred for everything Bruce Springsteen?
See, once upon a time I was married to someone else. He was - and still is - obsessed with Springsteen, to the point of it being a fetish, not an obesssion.
I used to enjoy Bruce's music somewhat. Now, besides the fact that I think Bruce is an opportunistic phony, I cannot hear his voice without wanting to hurl my entire day's intake of food into the toilet bowl.
We all have those things that remind us of exes. Ugly sweaters, torn letters, raggy stuffed animals...I have the memory of a singer who looks like he is eternally constipated and sings like the shit is on its way out the hole.
After the ex moved out, I broke all his Springsteen records. I should have broken them over his head, but that's another story.
Anyhow, that's your Grammy related personal anecdote for the night.
It had to be Fred Durst. He had to be the first person to say it.
"Ohh...we must make the big bad war go away."
Hey, looks like someone made your career go away, Freddie.
Punk ass bitch. What do you expect from a guy who follows Britney Spears around like he's about to sniff her ass?
My animosity towards Fred goes back a long way. This is just one other thing to add to it.
No less than ten emails from people crying that Lenore was gone.
And thus, Lenore - as always - returns. Creepy little girl, ain't she?
This is just one reason I am watching the Grammys.
Lou Reed looks like he just underwent shock therapy.
UPDATE: A half hour into the show and no one has said anything idiotic about the war yet. Someone better step up and be a blithering jerk or I'm going to be really pissed I'm wasting my time watching this.
Two minutes of Kylie and a brief shot of Justin Timberlake's butt just ain't gonna make up for this bore fest.
I love email. As much as I complain about it, sometimes it certainly makes my day interesting.
I think I touched a nerve with the Ted Rall bit today. Little did I know that people would actually defend the guy. Sort of.
Why waste your time with a drone like Ted Rall when there are so many other comic people for you to slap with your wrath? What about Dave Sim? What about anyone from Marvel Comics? Why do you like Neil Gaiman so much, anyhow? He's a hack.
Well, dear reader, thank you for taking the time to write me. You could have used the comments like everyone else, you know.
One thing at a time. Ted Rall: It's not that he's just a crappy artist. He's a shitty human being. That's why.
Dave Sim: I already called him a misogynist loon. What else do you want? However, as my fellow blogger Kevin Murphy so aptly put it, "Ok, Dave Sim is an egomaniac martyr for the independent comic cause with a mean misogynist streak. That doesn't speak any less of his masterful creation, Cerebus the Aardvark." Exactly.
As for Marvel, I'm more of an indie comic kind of girl. I prefer villians to superheroes, darkness to the world constantly being saved, death, blood, gore and wickedness to guys in tights and capes. With some exceptions, of course.
Let's not go with the Neil Gaiman thing right now, ok? You've incurred my wrath, let's just leave it at that. I have your IP address. It's just a quick email to a friend and before you know it you will find your dog's severed head hanging from your mailbox. If you don't have a dog, I'll just use your neighbor's.
But who am I to talk? I think Meatwad is an amazingly well thought out character. Shows you where my tendencies lie.
Well "christo," I thank you for this opportunity to address your questions. If you feel the need to question me again, please don't unless you can come up with something more thought provoking.
Yea, but who is going to get started on the Four HorseWOMEN? Or is that horsepeople? Or just Demon Wenches come to kick your ass and make you see the light?
One of them should be holding a 2X4, of course.
Pay no attention to the person behind the curtain.
I'm fooling around with the colors and whatnot around here. As usual, I can't decide on one thing for more than a minute at a time. So pardon our appearance if things look funky for a while.
This blue and green thing isn't working, is it?
What about the Yankees colors motif?
Fifteen volunteers from the first 200 shields are moving into a bunker at the South Baghdad Electricity Plant in an effort to deter attack by America and its allies. However some of the shields yesterday questioned Iraq's selection of the power plant, after discovering that it is situated next to an army base.
Did they really think Saddam was this nice, pleasant man who wasn't going to use the shields for all they're worth? Please tell me that people are not this naive.
Yesterday Iraqi officials gave way to pressure from disgruntled volunteers, and agreed to place some at the schools, hospitals and old people's homes where they had hoped to defend the civilian population against possible attack.
Interesting tactic. It's unlikely the U.S. will set out to bomb schools, hospitals and old people's homes. (And how would they know which homes belonged to old people and which didn't? And why are only old people worthy of human shields? What about the children?)
When the bombing starts, it's a safe bet the targets will be - gasp! - army bases!
See, the shields just want to make a statement. They don't want to actually put themselves in harm's way. They don't really mean it when they say they would die for their cause. They are, like the celebrities in their "No War" t-shirts, putting on a grand show for everyone.
I wouldn't be suprised to turn on my tv in the midst of the bombing and see some of those human shields being used as what their name implies - but as shields for officers of the Iraqi army.
Stupid is as stupid does. You want to put your life on the line for your country's enemy? You deserve whatever fate is handed to you, then.
Continuing with yet another observance Bitchslap Ted Rall Day, Jim was kind enough to send along some amazing news from the world of political cartooning:
Ted Rall has won the James Aronson Award for Social Justice Journalism for 2002 in the category of social justice graphics or "Cartooning with a Conscience." the Aronson Award is administered by the department of Film and Media Studies at Hunter College of the City University of New York....The committee told Ted that it was "impressed with your mordant portraiture of a grim political scene and your work in graphic and print journalism, as well as the generosity embodied in your efforts to bring forward the work of your colleagues."
What, I wonder, do they mean by "social justice" and "cartooning with conscience?"
Could it be:
Accusing the firefighters of September 11 of being in it for the money?
Implying that the widows of those firefighters were greedy bitches?
Taking a cheap shot at Daniel Pearl's widow?
Using the death of a friend as an excuse to write a strip about how many women he used and discarded in one year?
For claiming over and over that America is to blame for terrorist attacks on its own land?
For constantly being deceptive and misleading in his essays and never backing up his numbers and accusations with facts?
And what exactly do they mean by "efforts to bring forward the work of your colleagues?"
The man claims to be all about dissent, then publicly rips apart anyone who dares to disagree with his views. He continuously posts his childish, baiting, name-calling idiocy on the Comics Journal boards (most of the threads that I wanted to link to have since been deleted. Reading them would just have killed some of your brain cells, anyhow).
What else do you expect from a guy who thinks the world owes him a living?
As far as his drawing style goes, it has been described as thus: "Ted Rall prepares to shove a pencil up his ass and do the Hustle against a piece of paper producing yet another work of acclaimed genius."
Sure, it is the right of the department of Film and Media Studies at Hunter College of the City University of New York to give out awards to whomever they want. But somehow I see this as this as on par with giving Arafat the Nobel Peace Prize. "Cartooning with a Conscience" works on that same bizzaro world level.
I almost forgot to mention (thanks to Kevin - who also has a post on Rall today - for reminding me):
Ted will appear on Bill Maher's new "Real Time with Bill Maher" on HBO
(Fridays, 11:30 pm) both on February 28 and March 5.
They are taking live calls from the East Coast.
Of course, I'll be calling. Anything you want me to say for you in the thirty seconds I'll get to talk before they hang up on me?
A big thank you to Danny Hellman for the Rall strips.
Max Sawicky is not only a leftist but a sexist leftist. I thought lefties were all about equality and such, but I guess not.
See, Max not only dubbed Steven Den Beste, Glenn Reynolds, Charles Johnson and Andrew Sullivan the Four Horsemen of the Ablogalypse (see, here), but he also inferred that Jane Galt is just a silly, dumb broad.
Mistake on all counts. First of all, he plays by that tired standard that only male war bloggers are worthy of giving any attention to, but he thought he was actually insulting the four bloggers he did refer too. (see, Andrea).
Well, Andrea came up with something to show that we women bloggers can be just as deadly as the men:
That's Jo-Anne Jacobs, Megan McArdle and myself scaring down a leftie.
See Sean Kirby fun with this.
UPDATE: Sam at Unigolyn has a great image as well.
Four new posters over at the Civil Defense Poster Contest.
On a totally unrelated, if somewhat inebriated note, I hesitate to confess to you that I like the Justin Timberlake album.
I guess file it under "porn blogging for the deranged."
He is rude, selfish, arrogant and always horny.
Not safe for people who would rather not read the (hopefully fictional) blog of a man who says things like:
Looks like tomorrow night will be open mic night at The Grammys, as CBS has stated that it will not block musicians from making anti-war statements.
Musician Sheryl Crow, who made headlines when she wore a "War Is Not the Answer" T-shirt at the American Music Awards in January, plans to hand out 300 "No War" buttons tomorrow.
"If we can't turn to our artists, who can we look to?" Crow told the Daily News.
Don't know about you, Sheryl, but I don't look to musicians or artists to guide me in times of political turmoil, especially stars who rant on and on about this nation's dependence on oil and then fly off to all their special events in their private jets.
Should prove for some interesting tv tomorrow night at any rate, when you consider the whole music industry is just one big Bono suck up, kissing the collective asses of the political left.
He gave each state its own separate post, with comments open so you can add anything else. He also put the state flag on each post.
I don't think it would be asking too much to ask each and every one of you to link to Solonor's efforts and add your own comments if you haven't joined in already.
Apparently not everyone liked my choice of music last night, so I'm offering something more on the mellow side today.
We suffer everyday, what is it for These crimes of illusion, are fooling us all And now I am weary and I feel like I do
It's only you, who can tell me apart
And it's only you, who can turn my wooden heart
The size of our fight, it's just a dream
We've crushed everything I can see, in this morning selfishly
How we've failed and I feel like I do
It's only you, who can tell me apart
And it's only you, who can turn my wooden heart
Now that we've chosen to take all we can
This shade of autumn, a stale bitter end
Years of frustration lay down side by side
And it's only you, who can tell me apart
And it's only you, who can turn my wooden heart
It's only you, who can tell me apart
And it's only you, who can turn my wooden heart
Loyal reader Bill Saxton now becomes loyal participant.
Hopefully, this will be the first of many "Bitchslap Ted Rall " days that Bill contributes to.
Rall's original on left - Bill's parody on right (click for larger images)
*All artwork(1) by Ted Rall. Intended as parody only. Used without express written permission. Ted
would probably not approve.
(1) the term "artwork" is loosely defined in this instance
I see that March 5 is Do Nothing to Stop the War Day.
The Not in Our Name folks are encouraging kids to cut school, businesses to close down and workers to call in sick.
Unfortunately - if my divination skills are worth anything - March 5 will be two days too late.
Welcome to Conspiracy Headquarters where today is brought to you by the Number 3.
This particular conspiracy calls for the war on Iraq to start on March 3, 2003.
Everyone knows that 666 is the number of the beast. Well, 333 is the number of the beast’s son. Gulf War I - George Bush, Sr.
Gulf War II - George Bush the son. See how this works?
Should everyone and their brother become involved in this war, it will be World War III. 3. Get it?
The Axis of Evil has 3 countries.
In numerology, the number 3 represents intelligence (CIA?) and assimilation of information (weapons inspectors?). 3 is represented by the colors ruby and blood red.
Alexander Graham Bell's birthdate is March 3. Everyone knows that Bell would have been pro-war. Had he lived to this decrepit old age, he would have been 156. Let's do some numerology. 1+5+6=12. 1+2=3. See, there's that 3 again. Told you!
Sure, I'm reaching a bit here. But when I stopped at the store on the way home from work last night, the total of my purchase came out to $33.33.
Just to double check my interpretation of these numbers, I looked up Saddam's horoscope for March:
Mars, as it draws nearer to the earth than ever before in history, is due to be passing right through the part of your chart that governs 'alliance and allegiance'. The first rule of every successful friendship 'be non-judgemental.' Remember this – and then set out to make friends with every part of your life that currently seems to be your enemy.
Perhaps Sheryl Crow was on to something. Sadly, it will be a bit of too little, too late, as the date of 3/3/3 comes up as loser, loser, loser on the slot machine of life.
Of course, I could be wrong. My psychic skills have been misguided before, as when I predicted that Ted Rall would eventually get his head out of his ass.
(Stay tuned for another edition of Bitchslap Ted Rall day. I have something up my sleeve)
As always on a Friday evening, the kids are gone and I am drunk. It's not that I'm a binge drinker, I'm just a cheap date in the sense that one glass of Absolut on the rocks will bring me to a euphoria that it takes some people an entire bottle of Jagermeister to achieve.
So what kind of mood am I in? Here's an mp3 to give you a hint.
For your listening pleasure, Strapping Young Lad with Oh My Fucking God.
Not for the faint of heart.
Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to spend the rest of the evening reminding my husband why he married me. Well, one of the reasons, at least.
Let me know what you think of the song, though. Maybe tomorrow I'll give you something a little less....powerful.
Oh My Fucking God
Words and music © 1997 Devin Townsend
(Devin has worked with Front Line Assembly and Skinny Puppy among other bands)
Is this too much for you? Let me know if you would like something on the mellow side.
There is no insanity, rather a super sanity
More suited for life at the end of the 20th century
Where everything is art
And everything is trying to express it
Where everything is art
And everything is trying to communicate it...
All intelligent beings sleep the dreaming of dreams
And they've all come up to meet met tonight
Although while in the morning, all their wonder and their
Glory was turned ugly and quite simple
Like a venue when you're loading in gear
Sexuality, eroticism in asexual persuasions
Man or woman, makes no difference in the outcome
No fashion, no tolerance for stupidity or ignorance
..."adidas" or "the arch deluxe"...
And time is now an object
Oh my fucking god...
Oh I'm fucking god...
And I'll dream this into becoming real
And until such time that you can prove me otherwise
I will continue with my agnostic travels
Until I've found a place that dreams with me...
...a place that feeds on my routine
All I want is my mommy...
All I want is my mommy...
All I want is my mommy...
All I want is my mommy...
This is the night that it all changes
When I need a moment of Zen, I reach for The Smashing Pumpkins' Mayonaise.
You know, I never know quite what Billy is going on about, but the music is so damn good.
Fool enough to almost be it
Cool enough to not quite see it
Pick your pockets full of sorrow
And run away with me tomorrow
We'll try and ease the pain
But somehow we'll feel the same
Well, no one knows
Where our secrets go
I send a heart to all my dearies
When your life is so, so dreary
I'm rumored to the straight and narrow
While the harlots of my perils
And I fail
But when I can, I will
Try to understand
That when I can, I will
Mother weep the years I'm missing
All our time can't be given
Shut my mouth and strike the demons
That cursed you and your reasons
Out of hand and out of season
Out of love and out of feeling
When I can, I will
Words defy the plans
When I can, I will
Fool enough to almost be it
And cool enough to not quite see it
And old enough to always feel this
Always old, I'll always feel this
No more promise no more sorrow
No longer will I follow
Can anybody hear me
I just want to be me
When I can, I will
Try to understand
That when I can, I will
this post has been updated, see below
As the 2003 Grammys approach (Sunday night at 8), I'm wondering who will be the first media darling to make an anti-war statement that night.
Let's take some bets, shall we?
Who will be spotted in a "No Blood for Oil" t-shirt?
Who will be the first to use their alloted speech time to blast President Bush?
Who will be the first to turn down their award in the name of all the Iraqi children?
Which performing artist will change the words to their lyrics to reflect anti-war sentiment?
Which artist not from America will be the first to call America an evil empire after accepting his/her award?
Who will be the first artist backstage to compare Bush to Hitler?
Your choices are many, as this gathering of Grammy nominees and performers is rife with artists who have already staked their claim in the "Leave Saddam Alone" crowd.
Choose from these stellar political commentators:
Sheryl Crow, Bruce Springsteen, Sting, Dave Matthews, Coldplay, Moby, Bono, System of a Down, Peter Gabriel among others.
I think we could actually make a drinking game out of this.
UPDATE: Drudge is reporting that CBS is looking to turn the mic off of artists who make anti-war statements. While I am all about wanting these people to shut up, I can easily change the channel if I don't want to hear it. I am, however, not in favor of censorship. If these artists wish to use their time to make a protest, that's their prerogative. I don't think CBS should dictate what they can or can't say.
You, on the other hand, can dictate whether to listen to it or not. Let's not forget the freedom we are so intent on defending. Part of that is the freedom of speech. Censorship of ideas is not a part of that.
I'm sure a lot of us would be upset if an artist got up on the stage to state his or her pro-war statements and CBS turned their mic off. Let's remember it works both ways.
I've spent the last twenty minute staring out of my office window, watching a black cloud drift across the sky.
Apparently, an oil refinery on Staten Island exploded.
The cloud resembled a mushroom at first. Good thing I'm not the type to panic.
Hey, did anyone see my duct tape?
Yea, I have no life. I take pictures of smoke.
I'm feeling stale and repetitive.
Barring any breaking news that warrants my need to shout my opinion to the world, I am taking the day/night off.
Links are over on the right hand side, towards the bottom.
If you make coffee while I'm gone, please clean the pot when you are done. Thank you.
Nevermind. I have no will power.
Give me a few minutes.
But the part about the coffee pot still stands.
I know I was supposed to put up more posters tonight and do something with the "What's Good About America" posts, but Mr. Headache has decided to come and play.
The Department of Homeland Security Presents:
Tips for a better way to face your inevitable death in the wake of a biological attack(the second in a series)
Residents of Texas should be on alert for large, red circles hovering above them. Residents that live in the Houston area should take shelter at once, as the red circles indicate that a radioactive cloud of gas has been let loose by the enemy known only as Nardo. While we do not know much about this terrorist, we do know that his owner is Amish.
While the red circles are a sure sign that Nardo has let one loose, it is probably too late at that point to do anything but hide your head under a thick blanket and wait for the deadly odor to pass.
The Department of Homeland Security Presents:
Tips for a better way to face your inevitable death in the wake of a biological attack(the second in a series)
It is important that you keep bananas, tin foil and marshmallows in your car at all times. If you see an explosion off in the distance, drive towards the flames. As you get close enough to feel the heat, stop the car. Take the tin foil, line it with marshmallows and lay the banana down on top of the marshmallows. Roll up the tin foil. Following the diagram to the left, shake the rolled up foil up and down a few times in order to make sure the marshmallows are evenly distributed. Put the car in gear and drive a little closer to the site of the explosion. When you are close enough to feel your skin searing, get out of the car and walk towards the bright light. It may hurt at first, but everything will be made better by your toasty banana marshmallow treat. As the radiation begins to melt your skin, slowly peel the tin foil off of the banana and enjoy your gooey treat as you welcome armageddon.
Join the movement!
Join Moveon.org's Million Modem March on Washington.
Well, sort of. Let's just say we are co-opting their latest peace march.
On February 26th, every Senate office will receive a call every minute from a constituent, as they receive a simultaneous flood of faxes and e-mail. Hundreds of thousands of people from across the country will send the collective message:
Don't Attack IraqWe support the war on Iraq. Liberation for Iraqis now!.
Remember to follow Bitter Bitch's Rules of Etiquette.
Did you write that date down? February 26....good.
Most importantly, I am also organizing as a counter-protest a "Virtual March on Hollywood", where the virtual marchers send jars of mayonnaise to the various celebrity spokeshairdos for the Virtual March on Washington -- Janeane Garofalo, Martin Sheen, Mike Farrell, Anjelica Huston, et al.
Why jars of mayonnaise? So these actors can refill their heads when they start to leak.
There's a difference between being useful and being a useful idiot.
The Department of Homeland Security Presents:
Tips for a better way to face your inevitable death in the wake of a biological attack(the first in a series)
Keep a Slayer CD in your car at all times. When the alarm sounds over the radio and the sirens and horns are going off all around and you realize you will never be able to get home to your underground bunker before the shit hits the fan, place the Slayer CD in the stereo, turn the volume up all the way and ignore the panic around you while hell rains down on mankind.
It is the preferred equivelant of sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting "la la la la I can't hear you!"
May I suggest Seasons in the Abyss?
Joe has some worthwile tips for you, also. (Warning: Do Not Drink While Reading)
Tomorrow will be one year since we learned of Daniel Pearl's murder.
Daniel's father writes:
Danny was killed because he represented us, namely the ideals that every civilized person aspires to uphold--modernity, openness, pluralism, freedom of inquiry, truth, honesty and respect for all people. Decent people of all backgrounds have consequently felt personally targeted in this crime, and have been motivated to carry on Danny's spirit.
Back in July, I participated in the 24 hour blogathon, with the proceeds going to the Daniel Pearl Foundation. There were 36 sponsors who pledged a combined total of $743.00
Make no mistake about it, Daniel Pearl was killed because he was Jewish, and he was killed because he was American. He was a victim of a hatred and ignorance that has been spread so thickly throughout the world that we are often crushed under its weight.
Ther are countries where children are raised to spit on those not like them. There are people who teach their children to despise, to look down upon and to kill those who do not think like them. We canno expect the world to be rid of this ignroance and barbaric behavior until the world is rid of those who teach it, or until we can somehow stop the cycle of violence that comes with these sickening lessons.
In the one year since Daniel Pearl was murdered for being a Jew, the world has become more divided, more polarized. We are fighting with not only those who are not like us, but those who used to be our allies, our friends.
There is something I quote each time I bring up the subject of raising our children - our future leaders - to be kind, humane and loving people.
You've got to be taught to hate and fear You've got to be taught from year to year It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made
And people whose skin is a different shade
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught before it's too late;
Before you are 6 or 7 or 8 !
To hate all the people your relatives hate.
You've got to be carefully taught.....
You've got to be carefully taught.
written by Hammerstein; from "South Pacific"
Mr. Pearl also wrote these words today:
Not surprisingly, our unguided world has seen an alarming rise of anti-Semitic activity in the past year. Tens of millions of Muslims have become unshakably convinced that Jews were responsible for the Sept. 11 attack....And on the sideline, while these flames of hatred were consuming sizable chunks of the world's population, traditionally vocal champions of antiracism remained silent.
Remaining silent makes you just as guilty as vocalizing hatred.
I am not Jewish. I have no religion. But still, I am horrified by the treatment Jews receive around the world. And I am still shocked, though I should no longer be, that children are raised in a culture of hate; they are taught day and night, week after week, to hurt, degrade and kill Jews, as if it were a noble deed to do so.
What kind of religion places so little value on the life of others? Certainly not a religion of peace.
Today I remember Daniel Pearl and in doing so I remember every person who has been killed because their murderers were taught that to bring death upon a Jew - or anyone whose humane beliefs vary from their own - would bring them martyrdom and gifts from the heavens.
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late. Blogging will have to wait.
Meanwhile, go read Oliver Willis's novel.
I really, really like this woman. In fact, if I was prone to such things, I would probably fall in love with her. Or something like that.
I must have missed Cato's announcement about it, but I discovered through my referrer logs that he started up Warblog Central, the one-stop reading place for all your warblogging needs. I really wish I had a blogging secretary to get these memos to me in a timely manner.
I put two more posters up at Code Orange: The Contest. I have about ten more to get up there, plus I just got two more entries. Keep them coming!
Now, if you'll excuse me I must go shoot myself. I am taping American Idol for Natalie and I don't know how to tape and watch something else.
90 minutes until Adult Swim and then I can wipe all this Idol nonsense out of my mind.
I really hate when people leave in the middle of a game just because I am kicking their ass.
Damn sore losers.
I gave up on getting any photo gallery to work the way I want it to. I'm just doing it using MT, which should have been good enough to begin with.
Yes, I finally started putting up the entries for the Civil Defense Poster Contest. It's a bit raw, and just a couple up so far, but it's a start!
There has been a slew of opinion pieces from around the globe lately that fall under the heading of "What is There to Like About America?"
Mostly they are full of sarcasm and hyperbole. Sometimes, as with the Australian girl who thinks America is great because we have squirrels, these articles border on idiocy.
So what is there to like about America? I mean, besides the freedoms we have that most of these opinion writers and letter-to-the-editor professionals fail to mention.
So glad you asked. I was going to take you on this tour of the 50 states, linking to something wonderful about each state. I got as far as the first two when I realized this would take all night and I still have to get that photo gallery of the poster contest going.
Why don't you help me out? What is so great about America, anyhow? What makes it such a wonderful place? What would you tell a foreigner about your home state?
Pick a state, follow my example, provide links. Leave it in the comments and I'll add your contribution to the list as I go along.
And then I'm going to send it to every single foreign newspaper that had some idiotic article detailing how little there is to like about America.
Jingoistic? Perhaps. I'm sure the haters out there will point to all the bad things, but that's not what this is about. I'm all about the love tonight.
Alabama: They call Alabama the Crimson Tide. I once had this strange allegience to Bama football because of the Steely Dan song Deacon Blues. I love American sports. I especially love that football means big, mean men and the frozen tundra of Lambeau field and not some guys in shorts kicking a round ball.
I'm using my influence over you (shut up, just pretend) to make you comply with my favors.
One: Go visit Zander and leave him a nice "thinking of you" note. Zander always calls himself a kid, but he has more smarts and a better take on life than most adults I know. How he has kept his smile going with everything that has been dealt to him is beyond me. I just know that he is very, very sick and can use all the good wishes and kind words anyone wants to send him.
Thank you. You may now have control of your mind back.
natas ma i
sohcan em yub lliw uoy
Thanks to Dive Into Mark, you can now make magnetic poetry by pulling words from your latests posts.
One from this morning:
I don't despise all of the anti-war crowd. I don't hate liberals or Democrats.
What I do loathe, however, is ignorance parading as protest.
It is your right to view the war on Iraq as wrong. We all have our own opinions, we all - for the most part - form those opinions based on our awareness of a situation and hopefully some research into the facts.
There is a large contingent of people who unfortunately do not let facts get in the way of their opinions. Yes, I do realize that both sides of the coin are at fault here - the far right as well as the far left - but I'm talking about the left today. Not the (small l)iberals, not the registered Democrats, not the people who put forth their protests in a civil, singular manner.
Let's go all the way to the left for this one.
Take, for instance, these protesters in New York City that blocked the way of a firetruck and called the firefighters on the truck facists. While Michael Daly makes great issue of the fact that some of the firefighters on that truck were present in the WTC on 9/11/01, that is not really the issue. Nor should it be.
The fact remains that these protesters twisted and turned a situation around to make themselves look like the victims.
A firetruck returning from a run, the driver trying to get back to the firehouse suddenly becomes a troop of facists trying to break up a crowd of first amendment users.
Police officers in San Francisco trying to stop a group of rampaging, window-breaking, building-defacing protesters are called brutal and oppressors.
Bush is somehow likened to Hitler, though I don't recall Bush rounding up Jews and sending them off to die. In fact, I do believe that Bush is trying to actually rid the world of a person who rounded up Kurds and killed them with chemicals. Yet, Bush is Hitler, Saddam is not.
The situation in Iraq is somehow the fault of Israel, if you believe the signs out in force this past weekend. The Israelis, who have lost husbands, wives and children to terrorist explosions of fire and nails are somehow the evil, vile people while the protestors hold signs proclaiming the Palestinians to be the victims, to be the people of peace.
The capitalists are to blame as well. Money is bad. Money is the root of all evil. Money causes war. Yet is is cold hard cash that backed these rallies, dollar bills that got those signs made and money that bought the black masks the break-off contingent of Organized Anarchists were wearing. It is money that pays for all the websites and flyers and busloads of socialists promoting Bush as Hitler. It is both money and oil that are used to send citizens of free countries to stand guard against a dictator and his henchmen, shielding them from Bush as Hitler.
If the far left wants nothing more than peace and harmony, then where are all the signs asking Saddam to disarm? I saw plenty of signs asking Bush to step down, asking America to disarm. Yet not one single sign called for Saddam Hussein to throw down his weapons or leave the office of President of Iraq. I am then left to think that gassing, starving and torturing your own citizens is somehow ok, but trying to free those citizens from the person who gasses, starves and tortures them is not.
Strange thinking over there on the left hand side of the divide. Which is it? Are you anti-war or anti-anything America does? Are you protesting SUVs and corporations or are you protesting a war you don't believe in? Pick an issue and stay with it. If you are organizing an anti-war rally, be up front about what it really is. Call it the anti-Israel march. Call it the Students for Socialism rally. Call it anything but a peace march because peace is obviously not on your agenda.
Breaking windows, setting cars on fire, fighting police officers, blocking traffic, defacing public property - sounds more like a Super Bowl riot than a peace march. Be honest. Call it the Rallly for Hate. Hate Israel, hate America, hate Bush, hate corporations and conservative newspapers, hate SUVs and Texas and Starbucks coffee. Be open about it. Be honest.
Hell, I'm pretty honest about my issues. Sure, I'm all about killing Saddam. I'm not trying to pretty that up or cover it in other issues. Kill Saddam Hussein. Kill him dead. See, it's nice and easy to be honest about your feelings.
Say what you mean, Mr. Far Leftie. I dare you. Next time you call for a massive rally weekend, don't call it for peace. Don't call it for anti-war protesters. Call it exactly what it is; the We Hate You march. Be open about your causes. On your organization's website list the causes openly. Tell us about your socialist dreams. Tell us about the organizations you represent. Be forthcoming about your funding and your hatred. Be honest about how much you really care about the Iraqi people, about how a cause will only be celebrated if it fits into your anti-America agenda. If you do that, and you still march and shout and hold yourselves up to be what you really are, I just may respect you in the morning.
For now, I'm just shaking my head at you. You cannot make a difference with lies and hatred.
Just ask Hitler.
Ok, one last thing before I go to bed.
I took a phone survey tonight about my tv viewing. They asked me about The Jimmy Kimmel Show.
Thanks Jim. I always knew you would come in handy some day.
Besides those fantasies, I mean.
Then I convinced the interviewer he should be watching Adult Swim every night. I think he thought I was making the whole thing up, especially about Meatwad. Sounded more like a "Touched by an Angel" guy to me.
So I just got an email from this guy saying that he would donate to my site if I linked to his. I am not in the business of linking for donations, but I went and looked at his site anyhow.
Sigh. Just another spendthrift who got himself into debt and wants the world to pay it off for him.
I had a ton of debt too, buddy. I worked my ass off to pay it all off. Some of it wasn't even mine, but piles of unpaid bills my ex left me. Never once did I expect anyone else, let alone total strangers, to pay my debts for me.
Get a second job. Get a third job. Get off the internet and pay some bills yourself.
"I just want to own the roof over my head, and feed the family I hope one day to have.
The way things look now, because of the mistake I made when I was 18, I won’t be able to even begin living my little dream until I’m 35!"
Hey, I'm 40 and still don't own the roof over my head. Living my dream? That's going to have to wait until my kids' college tuition is saved for.
Your dollar can help my dream come true. Where else can a dollar buy you that?!
In my own freaking bank, where my hard-earned dollars are going to make my dream come true.
You know what my dream is? That people like you would get off their asses and be a contributing member of society instead of a parasite. I didn't get to partake of all those cds and books you bought with your credit cards, so why should I pay for them?
Now a dollar is not a lot of money. Your Sunday paper probably costs twice that. But every dollar off my debt cuts a few hours off my punishment. It means I’ll have to wait fewer years before I can begin to live like everyone else.
By everyone else do you mean people who live in the upper tax brackets or do you mean regular, every day kind of people like me who live from check to check and work hard just to maintain some kind of normal life? You know, the people who go to work each day, put food on the table for their families and don't sit down to their computer at night in an effort to beg total strangers to pay off their debt.
Piss off. If a dollar could buy you a clue, you would still need millions to get it.
Day by Day: A political cartoon by Chris Muir.
He'll be adding cartoons until he gets current and then he will keep the site fresh, so I hear.
Oh, a political cartoonist who doesn't draw like he stuffed a sharpie up his ass and sat down on a piece of paper! (I think Juan Gato was the first to use that description for some political cartoon hack.)
(ed note: this may be gone by tomorrow. I'm just thinking out loud and this is something with no beginning, middle and end. It's just run on thoughts)
I've written before about the rift in the blogosphere, wider and more evident now than when I first mentioned it. The closer war seems to get, the larger the chasm between sides grows.
It's a chasm filled with forked-tongue snakes and snapping pirahnas. Each side baits the other, each side throws its weapons and all we are doing is making it impossible to walk back and forth between us to have conversations about our differences.
That's not the only thing frustrating me, though it all comes down to politics in th end, anyhow.
There's been so much talk about hate mail this past weekend. As you know, I receive more than my share of such nonsense. Sometimes I take it to heart, sometimes I don't. Not all of it is about politics. Sometimes people just want to make judgment on my parenting skills or lifestyle or choice of husband. Sometimes they want to slice my head off for not liking a movie they loved. People are strange, they get so worked up over the smallest things. All of us, I mean. We are all guilty of that.
My hate mail reached a noisy crescendo in November, when it became apparent I was crossing over to the other side without any chance of coming back to the left. Suddenly, I was the enemy. I was a traitor. I deserved nothing less than a bloody, painful death. I got over that kind of arrogance and threatening hate pretty quick. I started going right to the delete button when the headers read "die motherfucker, die"
What I didn't get over so easily was the friends who abandoned me when my political leanings were swayed by life events. Not so much the friends who delinked me or stopped emailing, but the so-called friends who wondered aloud why I changed. They wanted to know who changed my mind. Who convinced me to lean the other way. Who got their grubby little hands on me and brainwashed me into becoming a member of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy.
In other words, they were implying that I did not have the capability to make this decision on my own, that I was simply some kind of sheep following the wrong flock. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
I didn't even answer those mails because I was so insulted, so hurt that people I admired and thought well of apparently did not think that much of me.
Well, I'm over that now as well. But I'm still frustrated.
I see animosity rising over subjects that have nothing to do with war. I see the wrath and baiting turned up a notch, the anger and spitting so evident with every word some people write. It's as if they are looking for a fight, looking for someone who will argue with them and call them names so they can claim controversy plagues them.
I try not to link to other bloggers when I am making a general point. Why link to one specific person who is on the opposite side of my political spectrum when I am talking about the anti-war movement in general? I don't like to point fingers when I know I can have that finger pointed right back at me. I don't know what it is, I just don't like singling out one particular person in order to make a point about many. Why invite controversy when I have enough to go around as it is? Why make one person defend himself or herself when it really isn't a personal issue?
There are plenty of left-leaning blogs I link to. I like those people. Yes, people. They may not think like me, they may not shout the same slogans or vote the same row and maybe they call me a warmonger and I call them smelly hippies, but there is so much more to one person than their politics.
I don't even know where I'm going with this or if I'm going anywhere at all. I just hate the hate. I am guilty of it myself, I know this. Does it make it any better that my hate/animosity/disbelief is pointed at a larger group rather than a singular person with a personal website? I don't know. I just know that some days I don't like what the impending war is doing to us. And some nights I lay awake wondering if I hurt someone's feelings with my words.
I would love to say It's just politics, let's get over it already, but that's not easy. Because politics has become life. Our beliefs and our views on the way we think things should be done in Iraq have become what we are. It's become what the entire world is about right now. Are you anti-war or pro-action? That is the defining terms by which we are viewing almost every person in the world now.
There are other things that define me, other things we could talk about without wanting to rip each other's heads off, but we don't because this other thing is too large. It hangs over us like death star, leaving a huge shadow over our world.
I'm right. You're right. In our minds we are all right. It just depends on which side of the chasm you are standing what your opposition looks like. We'll continue to shout our slogans at each other and send hate mail and write lengthy essays to try to prove our points. They're just words, but words can sever friendships. Words can cause or stop a war. And the right words can make us see that we are more than our political ideals.
Haven't you heard it's a battle of words
the poster bearer cried
And then the cable modem went out for five hours and a new level of hell was formed, one where watching "Big Fat Liar" again and again coupled with bouts of hair pulling, shin kicking and a spilllage of wet coffee grounds on the newly (again) washed kitchen floor make the snowed-in feeling even more pronounced.
And then you realize you are out of tequila.
Even if work is closed again tomorrow, I am going in.
Thanks to reader Justin Zagar who made the new logo for me, for no apparent reason other than he is really nice.
I like it.
update: I changed it to a .gif, per request.
The Democratic candidates for the presidency keep filing in. If you gathered them all in one room it would resemble American Idol, with contestants vying for a spot on next year's ballot.
As with American Idol, there would be some real head shaking moments should the candidates reveal their platforms to a few impartial judges.
The latest contestant is Rep. Dennis Kucinich of Ohio.
In his bid to win American Idol: White House or Bust, Kucinich's summed up his campaign thusly:
He clearly succeeded in reaching the fringes of liberalism. Shouts of joy could be heard from communes nationwide.
However, he let slip his real agenda, which is apparently taking over for the devil himself as ruler of hell:
Asked about his recent comment to an Akron newspaper that it would be "a cold day and possibly a snowy day in hell before a liberal would get back into the White House," he responded, "Have you been checking the stories on CNN today? All over America, it's cold and snowy. I'm ready to run for president."
Yes, he just implied that America is Hell.
Rep. Kucinich has other wild and crazy ideas up his sleeve. For instance, he introduced legislation to establish a Department of Peace, a branch of which would be responsible for spotting human rights violations around the globe.
Oh, good! That means he thinks Saddam Hussein should be stopped, right?
Rumors that Kucinich was seen walking around San Francisco this past weekend with a sign that depicted Bush as Hitler are unfounded.
Kucinich will sum up his platform for the judges with this final pronouncement:
Peace and flowers for everyone! If we just close our eyes and tap our heels together three times, we could make rainbows suddenly appear in our eyes!
I really need to get out and meet some New York bloggers.
I mean, I've met some NY bloggers. But I know there is a whole slew of you out there I have yet to come face to face with. Unfortunately, I suffer from some social disease (socially retarded, is what my mother calls it) and I would feel more comfortable on my home turf.
Long Island is a vast playland of bars and restaurants, accessible via a quick train ride. Would anyone want to come out and play with me?
You know, even with several drinks down the hatch, I can see clearly enough to realize that if this post ends up with zero responses, I will look might silly.
When I was little we used to sing this song:
Oh little devil
Come out and play with me
And bring your monsters three
Chop down my apple tree
Set me on fire
Bash in my cellar door
And we'll be enemies
for ever more more more more more
So, the lefties want their own radio station.
If they hired Oliver Willis, even I would listen.
On a sort of related matter and to address an email received today, I hate Bill O'Reilly. Just because I quoted him once or twice doesn't mean I worship the guy's brain.
I think he's a pompous, arrogant ass who will only take on issues that will get him publicity. And then, he tends to choose the popular view.
I'll take Hannity over O'Reilly any day. I may disagree with a lot of Hannity's views, but at least he can conduct an interview with respect and dignity and he always, always follows his heart and his ideals, whether they be popular or not. O'Reilly just seems to follow whichever road will get more people to gawk at him.
Anyhow, what was I saying? Oh yea, Oliver Willis for radio host. He could eat Al Franken for breakfast.
Well, maybe not with that Atkins diet. I don't know how rich in carbs Al Franken is.
I mean, that has to be it, right?
I said I wasn't going to be serious tonight. I've about had it up to here with hate mail. I'm not the only one, either (It's all over the blogosphere today).
So, in the spirit of which I promised tonight's posts, I say this to not only the person who floored me with his tasteless stab at me in the comments of his own blog, but to Megan's hate mailers and Andrea's trolls:
You don't frighten us, pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottom, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you! I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! Now, go away, or I shall taunt you a second time!*
*sure, they were french. you will forgive me this transgression in honor of the spirit of this post.
To readers who watch JM and are in a different time zone: There are no spoilers here as of yet, and if I do decide to blog about the ending, I will warn you.
Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick. Didn't we do all this rehashing last week? Are they going to show us these lamenting losers for another hour?
Here is my prediction on what's going to happen. I am totally wrong, but it's interesting think about.
Joe picks Zora because he thinks she will love him with or without the money. (Read: he thinks she's easily had).
Joe then tells Zora the news. He's just a piss poor former underwear model who makes less money than the fry cook at McDonald's.
He looks longingly into Zora's eyes with that "but you love me anyhow because I'm so charming" look.
Zora says "That's ok, I lied to you as well. I'm filthy rich. Swimming in it. Loaded. I wipe my ass with hundred dollar bills."
And then she gives him the finger and walks out.
In reality, I don't believe there is suprise in any of this. My warped little mind says they are all actors in the adult film business following a script.
I'd also like to kick the Butler's ass and put a spork in Heidi's eyes.
Ok, look down below for spoilers.
I'm furious at a slew of things right, not the least of which is a blogger who decided to take a very personal swipe at me in his comments. But I'm going to be a big girl and let it go without a whole "link and point" thing.
I'm angry at the thousands of "Death to Israel" signs that were waved around on Saturday.
I'm mad at a program that I just can't get to work the way I want it to.
I'm pissed that I scrubbed the kitchen floor Saturday and today it has been slopped with snow, slush and salt.
I'm miffed that friends and good bloggers are going through the hate mail/troll comment scenario that I am so familiar with.
I'm furious with life in general, for handing out some real shitty slaps with the fate stick to some dear friends in the past week.
I'm going to spend the rest of this night not talking about war, not talking about politics, making this gallery program work and drinking hot chocolate laced with rum.
It's fun, fun, fun tonight kiddies. Joe Millionaire finale and nothing but irrelevant, meaningless drunken posts from me.
And it's all free!
Here's the flash presentation I linked to this morning. It was created by Dissident Frogman.
Some schools are intdoctrinating their students into the anti-war brigade; some universities even offer symposiums on how to protest. There are public schools that encourage the students to hold rallies and teach the kids - some of them as young as ten - that Bush is Evil. And of course there are always the parents who, in the abscence of school indoctrination, will force their children to adopt their way of thinking.
Natalie came home from school Friday and said they finally talked about the Iraq situation in class. I was almost afraid to hear about it.
How refreshing it was to read the notice she brought home.
Not only is the school collecting items - toiletries, stationery, etc. - for the soldiers (they will be sent over with a teacher's brother who is being deployed at the end of the month), but the whole student body and the teachers are taking part in an adopt-a-platoon effort.
The notice encouraged parents to get involved as well and closed with a reminder that no matter how we may feel about the situation, it is always important to support our troops.
No preaching, no sermonizing, no overt allegiance to either side. Just a nice gesture to remember that while we are over here arguing back and forth about the war, there are people putting their lives on the line while we bicker like children.
To those in the northeastern U.S., I will save you the trouble of having to turn on your television. Here is what your local stations will look like for the next 24 hours.
It's very windy.
The roads are bad.
Visibility is bad.
Everything is closed. Go back to bed.
Manager of Home Depot saying they are out of shovels.
Man at local hardware store trying to buy salt.
Woman at grocery store complaining that the store is out of milk.
Brave postal worker delivering the mail, through snow, sleet, etc.
Requisite camera shots:
Empty lanes on the Long Island Expressway
Crazy person wearing snowshoes on Fifth Avenue
Local residents on skis trying to get to the store
At least one shot of a sign at Kennedy Airport saying flights are cancelled.
Here's what you can do if you happen to venture outside and get caught by a tv station desperate for someone to interview:
Feign shock that it is snowing in February.
Ask if the code orange has changed to code white.
Tell the interviewer that your white toy poodle is lost in that huge snowbank and you need help.
"Snow? I thought this was nuclear fallout!"
I suppose I can respond to all the email in one shot.
Dear People Who Are Extremely Worried About My Soul,
I am not pro-war, per se. I am pro regime change, and I don't think there is any way that regime change will come without use of force.
I do not want to go into Iraq and kill babies. I do not want to steal their oil or destroy their culture. In the best possible world, we go in there, oust Saddam with very little violence and death and then stay until the regime change is in total effect, a democratic government is installed and the cities and towns are rebuilt.
Is that costy? Sure, it is. But can you really put a price on spreading freedom around the world? It doesn't just benefit the people of Iraq, it benefits all of us. The less tyrannical governments that exist in this world, the more chance we have that our children and grandchildren will live to see a world at peace.
We, for the most part, live lives of comfort, lives of choice. I can wear what I want and say what I want and go - or not go - to work where I choose. Is there something wrong with wanting that for everyone? Is there something wrong with choosing military action if it means a peaceful future not only for us here in the United States, but for those in Iraq and then the surrounding countries?
It's not like we are swooping in on some foreign land and imposing a dictatorship on them. I believe that all citizens of the world are citizens who yearn to be free. If we can give them that freedom by releasing them from the one man who keeps it from them, then why not do it?
Just as democracy can be spread, so can - like a disease - the more frightful governments of the world. If we let that disease alone now, it will only grow. And it grows through terror and fear. You are foolish to believe you are immune to that disease. There is no vaccination for this one except preventive medicine.
I guess the use of the word blizzard wasn't hyperbole this time. The wind has picked up and the snow is piling on and on and on. If we don't get out there and start shoveling now, it won't be long until we won't be able to open the front door.
I'll try to get some pictures later, but they will have to be taken from the window as I am refusing to get out of my pajamas today.
Meanwhile, I'm debating whether to continue this "dialogue" about the protests (see the comments on all posts from this weekend), engage in some more war talk, or just ignore the impending war all together for today and just talk about....something else.
Photoshop has officially opened. I'm getting that promised gallery together. Due to popular request, the Civil Defense Poster Contest will stay open indefinitely, so keep the entries coming in.
(note to those of you in warmer climates and/or snow free areas: please keep your smarmy comments about how beautiful the weatehr is in your town to yourself, thank you.)
There's a blizzard on the way and that's not hyperbole. They actually said blizzard. Haven't had one of those in ages.
I'm fooling around with a few different photo gallery makers and I may just end up doing the whole thing in Moveable Type. It probably won't get up tonight as planned, but that just leaves you more time to get an entry in. Be warned, the entries I have already are pretty good.
If the weather forecasts are anywhere near right, I'm not too optimistic about having an internet connection tommorow.
What are you doing here anyhow? The 300th episode of The Simpsons is on!
All work and no play makes Michele something something.
Busy day today, but I'll be back tonight to start putting up the entries for the Civil Defense Poster Contest. You still have time to send them in.
If anyone knows anything about downloading and installing Gallery please let me know.
Also, one of my reader took the initiative to photoshop some of Asparagirl's pictures. The results are pretty hilarious (I hope she doesn't mind!). Look for them in various comments. I will put them all in one post tonight.
Thank you for giving more power to our already powerful enemy.
As useful idiots go, you have certainly earned your stripes.
Now that Saddam has that extra ego stroke as well as an abundance of arrogance thanks to you, let's see just how much more difficult he makes the job of the inspectors you love so much.
See, he thinks you are on his side. You claim you're not, but I'm seeing otherwise.
Anyhow, thanks for making the disarming Iraq even more difficult. Too bad you will only take your head out of your asses when it's too late.
P.S. Did anyone figure out how much litter the eight million protesters left behind yesterday?
I could sit here all day trying to prove the anti-war protesters to be fools, but they took care of that themselves in good fashion.
This one is my favorite. It was obviously put together by some seventh grade boys who giggled the entire time they come up with those slogans.
This one just shows how selfish the protesters are. Look at the litter. Look at the mess. I thought these people were enviro-friendly. Guess they can't handle more than one cause at a time.
Over at the CNN gallery, we have a counter-protest; just a gentle reminder of what terrorism can do to a country.
Nothing shows your dedication to a cause like making your children freeze their asses off for your ideals.
Faith faced the freezing temps of NYC just for me so she could snap a few pictures. Not of the protest, but of the hypocrisy that was in clear abundance yesterday. First, she caught these picketers emptying out of an SUV, then she photographed for posterity the trail of litter these liberals left behind.
Feel free to add your links in the comments if you blogged about the protests.
1)The current population of Earth is approximately six billion.
The number of anti-war protesters who marched in the last 24 hours is estimated at eight million.
How many people did not take place in the protests?
2)There are approximately 100,000 people protesting right now in New York City.
If every third person is wearing a Che Guevara shirt, how many of the protesters are socialists?
3)Of the eight million protesters around the world, 70% are waving signs that disparage George Bush. Of that 70%, 25% depict Bush as Hitler and 24% call for Bush's impeachment and/or arrest.
What percentage of those holding Bush signs are in denial about who the real enemy is?
For those who wrote to say that ANSWER has no part in the NYC protests:
Not only is ANSWER well reprsented, its members are also out in force advertising the next big ANSWER sponsored rally in D.C.
both pictures from Newsday
Here, we have the protests in Iraq. Yes, the pro-Saddam, anti-war protests. Do the peacenicks really think that these people are rallying around Saddam because they love him? The most likely have been threatened with torture or worse if they didn't get out on the streets and make like they think Saddam is the greatest leader in existence.
But the peace marchers will point to that picture and say "look, even the Iraqi's don't want to be rescued by America! Look how much they love their country!" Are they really that naive to believe that the Iraqi supporters are doing this on their own?
Perhaps the question should be posed to their "beloved" leader, who regularly tortures, starves and kills the children of Iraq. But no, the peacenicks do not believe this. They think a war will kill gazillions of children and the remaining babies will be left to die alone in the desert. They read too much propaganda. How else do you explain their belief that Iraqi children are happy with their lives right now, that the thing they fear is the U.S. freeing them, not their own president beheading them?
I'm very frustrated watching the protests on tv today. My blood pressure is skyrocketing.
This morning Tony Blair said of the protesters:
"If there are one million, that is still less than the number of people who died in the wars [Saddam] started."
Meanwhile, protesters call for the blood of Blair.
So, let me get this straight. They anti-war people would rather shed the blood of someone who is trying to bring democracy to Iraq rather than see the death of the man who is keeping Iraq from being free.
That sound about right?
If you would like to take part in this web initiative, please go to Dean's site, where he has buttons supplied by The Foundation for the Defense of Democracies. Dean will be collecting the URLs of websites that participate, so please leave him a comment and let him know you've added the button to your site.
This is especially important to do today, as people gather around the world in protest of giving democracy to Iraq.
The protests in New York began early this morning. Once again, as in D.C., most of the activism, organization and rallying points are being brought to you courtesy of ANSWER.
Sure, it's an anti-war gathering. But it is heavily anti-Bush as well. Don't confuse the two issues. They are not the same. And for some, the marches are nothing more than an anti-America rally. Even in America.
I'll be updating as I find more news and pictures.
I watched his speech for about an hour this morning. The gist of it:
To the U.N.: Grow some balls.
To the protesters: You are clueless.
To Saddam: You are dead meat.
All in all, a pretty good talk. But I do wish he wouldn't look so dapper as he's trying to sound mean and threatening. He needs to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves. He looks too much like a Ken doll.
I was supposed to go to the train station today to hand out anti-protester flyers to the hippies boarding the peace train, but it's too cold and I'm too lazy.
This is why I never joined the counterculture.
I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that I have a 13 year old daughter. Natalie may have given me a lot of grief, frustration and ulcers in her 13 years, but she has more than made up for it with her love, affection, sense of humor and inner beauty. I could tell you a ton of stories about Natalie (we used to call her Gnat - don't let Lileks fool you into thinking he's original!); in fact, I already have told plenty of stories.
Oh, and here's her view on Martin Luther King, her letter to Mayor Rudy, and proof that even though she can be a huge pain in the ass - a defiant, sarcastic teenager - she has a good heart and a beautiful soul.
Happy Birthday, Natalie. I know the day is coming near when you will accidently find this site. I apologize for posting all those embarassing stories about you, but rest assured that I always even those stories out with the good ones. I love you.
Thirteen. Teenager. I think I'll pick up a case of Excedrin Migraine and some heavy artillery liquor to get me through the next few years.
Congratulations to Doggerel Pundit for winning the Valentine's Day Poetry Contest with this little ditty:
Last minute wire, Saddam to Mubarak
Roses are red,
My cous-cous is sticky.
Small compound near Cairo?
I wouldn't be picky.
An undetermined prize is forthcoming.
The point of this article is not to link bin Laden with Saddam, but rather to show that they are of one mind when it comes to America. They think so much on the same lines, in fact, that Saddam nearly predicted the attacks of September 11, 2001.
More recently, and eerily, a July 21, 2001, commentary in the Iraqi publication Al-Nasiriya praised bin Laden: "In this man's heart you'll find an insistence, a strange determination that he will reach one day the tunnels of the White House and will bomb it with everything that is in it."
The article recounts bin Laden's attacks on U.S. targets and U.S. efforts "to pressure the Taliban movement so that it would hand them bin Laden, while he continues to smile and still thinks seriously, with the seriousness of the Bedouin of the desert about the way he will try to bomb the Pentagon after he destroys the White House."
On September 20, 2001,Saddam's son/evil henchman Uday wrote about anthrax, as well as a few cryptic lines about Iraq watching the Afghanistan war from the sidelines, but "there is nothing wrong with Iraq turning from a spectator to an active player on its territory to restore the north, which has been out of its control since 1991there is nothing wrong with Iraq turning from a spectator to an active player on its territory to restore the north, which has been out of its control since 1991 but, "there is nothing wrong with Iraq turning from a spectator to an active player on its territory to restore the north, which has been out of its control since 1991."
No, I am not reaching to conclude that bin Laden and Iraq are indeed working together. I am just saying that their goals are the same and their methods are similar. They are both our enemies.
The first enemy, bin Laden, struck without provocation. Is there any reason to doubt that Saddam would do the same?
I can't help myself. Just tell me when to stop.
Thanks to Davezilla, I'll be posting creepy Valentines the rest of the day.
The images all come from My Creepy Valentine. The captions and sentiments come from me. Unless you come up with something better.
Here's the first.
When you broke up with me, I couldn't bear to look at you anymore, so I gouged my own eyes out and replaced them with light bulbs.
Now I have to beat you to death with a baseball bat.
I'll always love you, Valentine.
Repeat after me. Maybe you'll get it this time.
The burden of proof is on Iraq, not the U.N., not the U.S. Saddam Hussein must show what he did with all his chemical and biological agents. He must show proof that he destroyed what weapons were once declared.
The fact that Blix and company did not find some giant nuclear reactor sitting in the middle of the desert does not mean that Saddam is off the hook. He has yet to hold up his end of the baragain.
If, after twelve years of the games, Saddam has not followed through on the resolutions, nor shown evidence of destroying his weapons and ingredients, I would think that's a pretty good sign that not only is he hiding something, but he's not going to show us what it is.
Unless, of course, he shows us by a hands-on demonstration of their use.
Do you get it yet? Or does someone need to draw you a diagram?
I've taken two prizes over at Mig's Valentine Limerick Contest.
There once was a fellow name Mig
Who dressed only in leaf of fig
Til one day his boner
Knocked something over
And now he wears pants that are big.
It's good to know I win no matter what. What I want to know is why?
Oh...yes. That AIM conversation I save about the circus midgets, the cucumber and the whipping post.
Happy Valentine's Day, Mig. This pink heart on my ass is for you.
For the second day in a row, I am being inundated with hits from the Yahoo Message Boards, this time from the Yahoo News boards.
The celebrity bashing is here, but scattered throughout the past few months as well.
You may want to join the Valentine's contest or the Civil Defense Poster Contest or just look around for general anti-war protester bashing, some pro-war poetry and general stuff about panties, boobies and the state of the nation.
Enjoy your stay!
Just so you don't think I'm a totally unromantic bastard, in honor of Valentine's Day I'm wearing red panties. They have a pink lace heart on the ass.
See, I'm not a total cynic.
I'm rethinking my planned outing to the city on Saturday. I'm afraid.
Oh, I'm not afraid of terrorists or dirty bombs or falling planes. I'm afraid of the protesters.
Diane has written a post about the marches and the planned violence that will be surrounding them. This is why I scour Indymedia every day. I want to know what these people are up to. I want to know how they think, if they think and what their next move is.
I'm old enough to remember the Vietnam protests. Not just from tv or the newspapers; I saw them up close.
I guess I was about eight or nine at the time. My older cousin Fran was the typical college student of the time - anti-establishment, anti-government, anti-war and full of ideals that made no sense for the time we lived in.
On a number of occassions I found myself in the car with my aunt (Fran's mother), riding up and down the local streets looking for Fran. One evening we spotted Fran amongst a loud, rebellious group of student protesters in the Modell's parking lot (back when Modell's was a supermarket/department store, not a sporting goods store).
I was terrified. The students were rioting more than protesting. I heard breaking glass, profane shouts and watched a police car go up in flames. There was some kind of hose on the side of the building, possibly a fire hose, I'm not really sure, and some of the students turned the hose on and aimed it at the approaching police.
I started crying and told my aunt I wanted to go home. But she was patient. She was still. We sat in her little car as she stared at the crowd, scanning the rioting mass for her daughter. An egg splattered across the windshield. My aunt barely flinched. Fire extinguishers were going off. There was foam everywhere. I think I nearl peed my pants out of fear.
Finally, my aunt spotted Fran. She calmly got out of the car, walked through a throng of egg-throwing kids, stepped over a drunken boy, walked past the wall where "Die Pigs!" was hastily spray painted, and grabbed Fran by her hair. She dragged her back to the car and threw her in. My aunt drove through the crowd as if we were in a tank.
No one said a word on the way home. My aunt dropped me off and I ran into my house, glad to escape Fran, who was covered in foam and eggs and the smell of fear.
So here I am, almost thirty years later and while the times have changed, the counter culture hasn't, except for the striking organization with which they gather.
The anti-war protests are no longer impromptu gatherings of college students. They are well-planned, financially backed pep rallies for a million causes. No longer satisfied with gathering just to speak out against war, they now gather by the thousands to denounce the president, the military, meat eaters, loggers, Israel and the inarceration of murderers.
Even the violence is set up ahead of time, with guides and maps to the nearest Starbucks or conservative newspaper offices, pamphlets listing slogans to spray paint on the walls of government buildings, and the irony of planned anarchy.
Lawyers are called upon to give the do's and dont's of a a healthy protest march.
There are lists of what to do in the event of arrest- and also guides to getting arrested as this is the mark of a high quality protester.
A carnival atmosphere in the midst of breaking glass and defaced buildings will lend an air of celebration to the protests. But why? What are they celebrating? What will fire eaters and drummers provide for the cause except to turn it into a circus?
This ain't no party, this ain't no disco. This is serious business. What happened to the days of a carton of eggs and few rounds of Blowin' in the Wind? Now there's street parties and animal liberationists, anarchists and after-protest parties.
I would probably have more respect for the protesters if they just gathered in a large parking lot and threw eggs at the cops. At least back in the days of my cousin Fran, they spoke in one voice, for one cause.
Now, it's become a contingent of confusion. There are so many causes and protests wrapped into one that the main goal of the marches is all but lost amidst the planned violence and voices of fringe organizations.
We get it. We know you don't like war. Guess what? No one does.
Now, instead of counter protesting like I wanted to do, I will stay in the safety of my own home. The violence and anger inherent in today's peace protests is frightening. And the irony seems to be lost on those who should see it the most.
The bed is calling to me a bit early tonight.
Before I go, I implore you - no, COMMAND you - to go to the Valentine's Day Poetry Contest post and vote for your favorite poem so I can have a winner tomorrow morning. There's no poll or anything, just use the comments or email me.
Speaking of contests and such, I received a ton of really good entries for the Civil Defense Poster contest. That will remain open for a few days at least, but tomorrow night I will start posting some of the entries. You can still play along if you wish, just don't leave your entries in the comments - send them via email instead.
May your dreams be terror free.
You can go return all that duct tape and plastic sheeting now.
Does anyone want to buy a couple of cases of powdered milk? Forty cans of Spaghettios?
just kidding, i really didn't buy that. but i did buy a case of vodka and the economy package of tampons
I hate these days when I don't even eat dinner until 9pm. However, I always believed that busy is better than bored.
You'll be thrilled, I'm sure, with the news that the Green Machine Girls are now 7-0. That's right, I am undefeated as a coach this year. I, errr...I mean the girls are undefeated. Yes.
Overheard at the game:
Natalie (to teammate): What's your problem? You've been squirming around all night!
Girl: I...I have gas. It hurts.
Natalie. So? Fart!
Girl: I can't fart!! That's just so rude.
Natalie: You want to hear my fart motto?
Girl: I guess.
Natalie: Go with the flow, with the gas in your ass!
Girl (giggling): Go with the flow, with the gas in your ass!
Natalie: Yea, go for it!
Girl: (insert long, low fart sound here)
Natalie: See? You look better already.
Girl: I never knew a fart could be so good.
Natalie: Or smell so bad!
I'll be back after my gas-free dinner.
A Small Victory's Top Romantic Movies, Just in Time for Valentine's Day
10. Tromeo and Juliet
9. Cemetery Man
8. Sid and Nancy
7. Edward Scissorhands
6. Blue Velvet
4. Princess Bride
3. Dead Alive
2. Dead Again
1. True Romance
Guess I'm not much of a lace and roses romantic.
Sorry I don't have time to supply links to each movie right now. I'm leaving work and going to finish my terrorist attack supply shopping and then coach the P.A.L. Girls Green Machine to (hopefully) another victory.
Anyhow, feel free to add your own, but make sure they fit in. The first person to say Titanic gets their IP banned.
So I called my son's school just out of curiosity. I pretended to be a reporter so they didn't mark something down on DJ's record like wacko parent.
"Can you tell me if you have any kind of plan in place in regards to evacuation due to biological or chemical attack?"
"In case of evacuation, the kids will be taken to the high school."
The high school is about half a mile away. I don't think that's a very efficient plan.
I don't think it will ever come down to the need for an evacuation, but when you read stories with headlines like "CYANIDE ALERT," you want to have your bases covered. Drudge's supersized font terror headlines don't help either.
I'm just about at the saturated point, which means I start tuning these warnings out soon. As a matter of fact, when I get back from lunch I'm going to write about my idea of romantic movies (don't think When Harry Met Sally type movies - you know me better than that) in advance of Get Your Heart On Day tomorrow.
Anyone want to tase my food before I eat it?
note: I have already received several really good entries for the Civil Defense Poster Contest. Get moving!)
The pacifists are becoming more noticeable around these parts. Yesterday, I spotted a van with a huge sign on the side of it that read "CODE PINK: NO WAR!"
Last night at 7-11, there were two kids handing out "No Blood for Oil" flyers. And today on the way to work I saw two cars with bumper stickers that said "War is Not the Answer!"
Of course, I must counter attack. My lovely sister Lisa has provided me with both a flyer and a bumper sticker to put on my SUV. You may print them out and attach them to your car window if you wish.
I'll also be leaving a whole bunch of these at a few Long Island Railroad stations before Saturday's mass exodus of peacenicks headed to NYC.
(photoshopper: my sister Lisa)
A friend of mine just called her daughter's high school and asked if, in the event of a terrorist attack that necessitated evactuation, where should she go to pick up her daughter.
The response? "I'm sorry. That's classified information."
Democrats are threatening a fillbuster to keep Miguel Estrada from being confirmed for the U.S. Court of Appeals.
Estrada, who is a minority who has worked for Clinton and went on the record saying he had no intention of trying to overturn Roe v. Wade.
So what's the problem? Seems he's not liberal enough, not hispanic enough and is not standing up and cheering for partial birth abortions.
What happened to the Democratic party? How often do they have to shoot themselves in the foot before they become crippled?
(No, I didn't forget about the Valentine's poem contest. You have until tonight to enter)
This post from Astonished Head reminded me of the civil defense saftey posters and pamphlets from they heyday of the cold war.
I think people might be better prepared and less frightened if the goverment put out a series of guides, posters and short films to help us through our Orange Alert and into the Red Alert days which are surely coming.
Of course, they would need a mascot or other identifiable character to make the guides appealing to all, even children. The mascot could even show up at schools, sporting events and supermarket openings. We'd always be reminded of our need to stay vigilant while also being prodded to take the necessary precautions for a time like this.
Yes, someone like this.
No, no. Cuddly won't do. We need something scary. Something hard. A face that will force us to sit up, pay attention and take this whole alert thing seriously.
(original poster by Charlotte Angus)
So here's where you come in. Using old civil defense posters and photos of Rumsfeld, make your own "be prepared" poster, pamphlet cover or whatever else floats your boat.
I'll post them as I receive them and then I'll make a gallery of the best entries. Who knows, maybe your poster will end up in the hallway of a school right next to the fallout shelter sign!
There are a lot more out there, just google.
Please identify and send me a link to the original artwork that you use so the artist can be credited.
Have fun and stay alert!
No, it's not something new that Hollywood stars slam Bush or America. But now they are standing in Germany and saying it.
Germany, one of the ingrate countries who so convienently forget the past while screwing with our future.
To me, Germany is one of a new breed of enemy, one who thumbs their nose at us as they slink off into their dark little corner with their other buddies, plotting and planning new ways to go against us. Germany, France, et al may as well be the idiots on the opposing high school football team, mooning you as their bus passes by.
And there stands Spike Lee, Edward Norton, Dustin Hoffman and Martin Scorcese in the locker room of the opposing team, talking shit about us.
Perhaps we can trade them.
Sorry for the light blogging today. Today was housecleaning day (isn't that waht everyone does on a paid holiday?) and tonight was "deal with your daughter having her heart broken" night.
Stay tuned for tomorrow, which is "Madonna fans, get yourselves a life" day.
Be careful out there. Carry a roll of duct tape with you at all times. Seal off your car window with plastic netting. Beware people drinking Pepsi and singing Ludacris lyrics. Stay off the dope. Give a Democrat a hug. Don't buy French water. Fill your bathtub with vodka. The duct tape. Don't forget it. It comes in all colors. It's Fashion Week. Color coordinate your duct tape with your wardrobe. Beware the Ides of March. Hey, what's that crawling up your back?
Blame the cleaning product fumes.
In the past 24 hours:
Armed vehicles and jets have started patrolling NYC and D.C.
North Korea has a missile than can reach the U.S.
Police stop "suspicious" truck on Whitestone Bridge
Stores sell out of batteries, duct tape and plastic sheeting
Osama allegedly begs Muslims to slay Americans
France and Germany continue to be ingrates
A carrot grows a vagina (I'm sure that's one of the seven signs)
Gas prices are rising
Anti-aircraft missiles are deployed in D.C.
Plague of frogs, anyone? Locusts?
This is sort of from last year but not. It's edited, updated and less seething with animosity.
Great Expectations: The Valentine's Day Expectancy Syndrome
Not that you need a reminder, what with all the storefronts decorated with sickening pink and red hearts and little cherubs with pointy weapons. I hate this holiday. People who do not have significant others do not corner the market on hating Valentine's Day.
It comes down to this: the greeting card and chocolate and floral industries have gotten together and formed this great conspiracy called Valentine's Day. Sure, this day existed a long time ago, set aside to honor a saint. Not a day to buy your wife a black teddy and a garter belt. And certainly not a day to make people who are not in a relationship feel shitty about themselves. And most certainly not a day to make all the people who don't think of being romantic or spontaneous or thoughtful all year long think there is one specific day where they can do these things and then be off the hook for the rest of the year.
Valentine's Day is not a day of amnesty. It is not a day where a guy or girl can say "Well, I've been shitty to my partner all year long, but if I buy them a huge boquet of flowers on February 14th, I'm off the hook!" It doesn't work that way. Me, I'm lucky to have someone who is a romantic fool all year round. But it wasn't always that way. I was once married to a guy who thought that if he took out the garbage instead of making me do it, it was a romantic gesture. Valentine's Day would come around and I would get a box of chocolate ($3.99 at CVS) and it would have at least two pieces with the dreaded coconut, which means I got a cheap box of chocolate of which I could only really enjoy about 4 pieces.
Chocolate is not a good gift. Chocolate says "I would like you to gain a few pounds so then I can say to you in a week or so that you look like you could lose a few pounds." Flowers are not good. Flowers say "Here are some beautiful works of nature that will wilt or dry out and lose their beauty in a relatively short time. Like you. Which is when I will leave you for a younger woman." Sexy lingerie is not good, because that just says "I really hate the way you look naked. Do you think you could dress like a stripper when we have sex so I can pretend that you are Shana from The Raven's Nest?"
Valentine's Day is a crock of falsehoods. It does more harm than good. Have you ever been that kid in class who got three valentines while everyone else got 20? Have you ever sat home crying in your beer and eating a pint of chocoalte chip mint ice cream while burning pictures of your ex? Then you know. You know how Valentine's Day only causes pain. Even for the guys who have a girlfriend because they feel they can't live up to the expectations that the media has set for them as far as presents go. Diamonds are a man's best friend apparently, especially if he wants sex, some free time or the right to do anything you please any way you please because women are shallow like that.
For the girls who have a special someone, it sucks if they have been watching some woman-centered morning television show where some guy pops out of the audience in a tuxedo on Valentine's Day and gets down on his knee and begs his girlfriend, who is a grip or stagehand or something, to marry him. And then Katie Couric sends them on a trip around Manhattan in a horse drawn carraige and the snow falls gently on their heads as he puts a diamond ring on her finger and....well that's not reality for everyone, folks. So don't think it's yours. Valentine's Day only serves to get your hopes up and then have them crashed down on top of you by the end of the night when all you got was a kiss and an offer to let you watch while he plays Grand Theft Auto. Any other day of the year that would have been good enough for you.
I've digressed again. I'm just saying. to hell with Valentine's Day. No flowers, no candy, no crotchless panties. If you love someone, tell them. That's all. And really, that should be every day.
I could sure use some sex, drugs and rock and roll to go with my ideals of less government and free trade.
So, is it true? Should I change my voter registration? Can you guarantee that I'll start having more fun? Is anyone willing to be my Libertarian sponsor?
More importantly, what are the initiation rites? Is that where the sex, drugs and rock and roll comes in?
Carnival of the Vanities is old enough to drink! Where does the time go? CotV #21 at Dissecting Leftism.
Don't mind this sentence. Just showing Mac what trackback does.
Was the ping good for you, Mac?
In addition to being both a paid holiday and my brother-in-law's birthday, it is also Day of Poetry Against the War.
I think I'll submit this one:
ode to the anti-war protesters
the war of words
That France and Germany
are waging against us
I am against
the war of ideals;
your socialist organizations
pitting us against each other
I am sick of your voice
how the word oil
drips from your tongue
forming pools of idiocy
at your feet
I am against the war
you have created
between the proud and the shamed
red white and blue
the anarchist symbol
I am against your nakedness
against your window smashing
i will fight your ignorance
your allegiance to martyrs
you wage a war
of confused issues
it's the rich, you say
it's the Jews, you say
it's the oil, you say
it's the arrogance, you say
your placards and posters
and peace signs
make our enemy grin
i protest the war
you wage against my future
the war you are provoking
against a world
Probably not what they had in mind.
Michele is a blogger who is currently pretending to be Jim Treacher who is a blogger who is currently pretending to be interviewed for the "Who Could You Take in a Fight?" feature at this week's Onion A.V. Club.
The Onion: Who could you take in a fight?
Michele: What kind of fight? Will there be guns? Knives? Fisticuffs?
Michele: Dave Barry. I could so kick Dave Barry's ass.
O: But why would you want to?
Michele: Because I can, Onion. Because I can.
Yea, I'm going to buy one of those. And a Rachel Lucas mug to go with it.
I am a glutton for punishment. It can be the only explanation why I keep wading through the sludge of Indymedia.
Last night I had a dream. It was Feb. 15 and there were close to a million demonstrators in NYC and we all started marching around the city. The cars, big SUV's with tinted windows, were incredibly frustrated because we were blocking traffic and disrupting their disconnected and illusioned lives. Someone started yelling "Turn over the car," and soon everyone began chanting "Turn over the cars." Working together, the masses went from car to car and turned them all upside down. It was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. Every car in midtown was either lying on its side or completely upside down. It was like art, politics, expression, beauty, freedom, truth, honesty, courage all coming together in this beautiful, surreal statement.
I wonder if this was just a dream, or a vision.
Yes, the honesty and courage it takes to turn over someone's personal property - well, it just brings tears to my eyes.
Ironically, I had the same dream last night. Except when the masses turned my car over, you were pinned underneath. I was laughing.
I especially liked this bold statement by another poster:
Yes, throw paper all over Times Square. These brain-dead morons have a history of destroying one of their pet causes to promote another. Nevermind that the leaflets will be blown all over the area, causing a litter nightmare, wasting tons of papers that trees had to be cut down to make. It's about the war today. Environmentalism is so 90's.
I decide to delve a little deeper into the pit and found a protest song.
In the Garden of Eden is available as an mp3 on the Indymedia site and the lyrics are avalable here.
Oh, look. How clever. He took the tune to Inna Gadda Da Vida and put the words In the Garden of Eden over it.
Too bad the Simpons did it first.
The cute lyricists of the anti-war program came up with these words:
In the Garden of Eden
A tyrant rules the land
Even worse than that ole Osama
And the Taliban...
We wage war in the name of peace
We don't care about our fellow man
The only thing we'll liberate
Is the oil under the sand.
It goes on like that for a while.
I'm sorry I made you look at that.
You guys are slacking with the counter-protest stuff. I need slogans. Songs. Poems. Anything I can put on a piece of paper and stick on the cars of everyone going on the "Peace Trains" Saturday.
You have got to be kidding me.
The whole thing started when Chloe Sousa, 7, brought home from Lombardy Public School a list of 10 words to learn. Each Friday her class is tested on these words. By last week, the class had worked its way through the alphabet to the letter G.
Amanda and Mark Sousa, who consider themselves to be pacifists and who are raising their two young children with this governing belief, were shocked when Amanda's spelling list last week included the word gun.
"I realize people hunt in this area, but I still don't think that warrants the teaching of this word to my daughter or any other child," said Mrs. Sousa.
They banned the word gun from the school after Mrs. Sousa complained.
I don't think this is an issue of political correctness. It's an issue of protecting your child from violence. Guns are violent. End of story," said Mrs. Sousa.
Oh, look! The letter G is jumping up from the page and gouging your daughter's eye out!
It gets better:
But children do hear this word every day on the news, particularly about blank registration -- I don't want to say the word so I don't offend anybody," added Mr. Simzer.
"We are quite happy that the whole matter has been resolved and the word will no longer be included in our curriculum."
She won't even say the word. I want so badly to believe this is a hoax but given these times in which we live, it's absolutey possible that this really happened.
Here are some words on my son's fourth grade spelling list this year. Using Mrs. Sousa's reasoning, let's see how many words we can ban:
Oh forget it. From now on the spelling list for the first grade class at Lombardy Public School is as follows:
No, I don't think this is propaganda by our own government. I don't think it's been faked by the White House, nor do I think you should take this with anything less than the utmost seriousness.
What I do think is that it's al Quada's attempt to latch on to a big moment. They know that as soon as the war starts, Iraq will retaliate, whether in the United States or Israel or anywhere else.
They want to be in on it. Their own atrocities notwithstanding, they are probably figuring it's better to align themselves with Iraq now while the wheels are still turning.
It's the perfect alliance, when you think about it. A rogue coalition, hell bent on destroying America and Jews, combined with a rogue nation whose leader is hell bent on destroying whoever gets in his way, including his own people. Put them together and you spell Trouble. With a capital T.
Anyone who helps America, from the Iraqi hypocrites (opposition) or Arab rulers ... whoever fights with them or offers them bases or administrative assistance, or any kind of support or help, even if only with words, to kill Muslims in Iraq, should know that he is an apostate."
Bottom line: You are with them or against them.
Whose side do you want to be on in the end? The side that's left with rotten egg on its face as all of its weapons and alliances come tumbling out of the closet like so many skeletons? Or the side that wins the war on its enemies and secures freedom for people that have never known the taste of it before?
If you're not near a tv, Alan is blogging the whole thing as "bin Laden" speaks.
Please note: It's not that I don't believe these speeches come from al Quaida, I just don't believe they come from bin Laden himself, who I think is not just merely dead, but really, most sincerely dead.
CNN has the Big Red Box up again.
Here's the air time schedule of the bin Laden message:
NEW YORK WNYW FOX -- 2:00PM
CHICAGO ILLINOIS WPWR UPN 1:30PM
SAN FRANCISCO CALIFORNIA KTVU FOX -- 3:30PM
BOSTON MASSACHUSETTS WSBK UPN -- 3:30PM
DALLAS TEXAS KTVT CBS -- 3:30PM
PHOENIX ARIZONA KPHO CBS -- 3:00PM
I think bin Laden is in the second segment, right after the lady in the housedress who cries when Edward says "Does the letter "A" mean anything to anyone?"
There's really nothing worse than the feeling that your bra is too tight.
It's making me very irritable.
On days like this, the first thing I do when I get home is rip the bra off and yell "fly free boobies, fly freeeeee!"
Oh, I'm sorry. Were you expecting war drums? See, I'm not as wound up as some people think.
Hey, did you know that Ethel Merman put out a disco album last week? Told ya Armageddon is coming!
Doggerel Pundit has surely outdone himself. He even mentions Rall.
A small Suggestion: An ode to the anti-war protesters to put up or shut up.
UPDATE: Jen seriously edited the post in question since I wrote this entry.
The problem in the Catholic church in regards to priests abusing children is not a "homosexual" problem.
I'd be happy to discuss this issue with you, despite the fact that you are never happy to hear views other than your own.
Please don't refute my beliefs with bogus and skewed citations.
The cite you refer to, Zymurgist, is written by a member of the Family Research Institute. They are notoriously homophobic. In fact, most of their "studies" revolve around homosexuality.
Some of their pamphlet and study titles include:
Gay Foster Parents More Apt to Molest
Homosexuality Is a Choice
What Causes Homosexual Desire?
Medical Consequences of What Homosexuals Do
If you can come up with some statistics that were acquired scientifically and not by a biased party to prove your point, I will be glad to give you equal time.
Show me the funny.
I know I've been called an alarmist before, and my co-worker Bonnie just called me "an irrational human being," (though she said it with love), but my Spidey sense is tingling like mad today.
Something is up.
CNN has it's red 'alert' banner up, blaring some headline about very specific threats.
They NYPD is warning about light bulbs and soda bottles and other non-conventional weapons.
I read a story this morning about how to seal your windows to protect yourself from a chemical attack.
But here's the thing that worries me. We live close to the airport. Since the week after September 11, when planes were allowed to fly again, the roar of a plane's engine has been my sign that everything is all right with the world. As longs as the jets were still flying, nothing untoward was going on around here.
I see on the average about 100 planes a day. They fly low, so low I used to wave to the planes when I was little, thinking the passengers could see me. So low, my dishes rattle when the Concorde passes over.
My sister works nearby. From her top floor office she can see straight down to the Empire State Building.
We both noticed something today. Neither of us has seen a plane all day. Not to the east, to the west, to the north or south. Not one single roar. Nothing.
Sure, they probably just changed the course today, although I never remember a day when the flight paths were changed so drastically that the air above home and work was silent.
I know, I'm irrational and I'm an alarmist. I just don't like the sound of silence. It reminds me of September 12, 2001 when the quiet in the skies was the eeriest thing I have ever experienced.
My cousin works for the Department of Homeland Security. I know when my alert should be raised. I'm already at red, one step ahead of everyone else. Ive heard talk around work today that fire departments, police departments are at Defcon 5 as well.
Meanwhile, in a separate Capitol Hill hearing Tuesday, U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell said a new message believed to be from Osama bin Laden says he "is in partnership with Iraq."
"(Bin Laden) speaks to the people of Iraq and talks about their struggle and how he is in partnership with Iraq," Powell said.
I think I'll go read some comic books.
It's good to know those political loud mouth celebrities have their priorities in the right place.
Even if bombs are falling from the sky and blood rains down from heaven, the show will go on!
Oh goodie! Because I am so looking forward to watching Richard Gere and Michael Moore accept their awards in the name of Karl Marx and Saddam Hussein and whatever other insane dictators and socialists they love so much.
I can't wait for Martin Scorcese to thank Noam Chomsky for his inspiration or denounce George Bush as the Anti-Christ. And hopefully, Viggo will take the stage if Two Towers wins an Oscar. He can wear his No Blood for Oil shirt and make the whole night just one big Hollywood shout-out to our enemies.
72 hours without a cigarette, folks. The agigation is probably showing.
I just heard on the radio that you should be on full alert for people with light bulbs and/or soda bottles.
Heathrow Airport had a scare. There's some guy lurking in the San Fransico Bay. The ABC building was under an anthrax watch yesterday evening.
I was talking with Justin last night about terrorism and it occurred to me that all the people who expend their time protesting the coming war, protesting hamburgers and Bush and smashing windows to stop development have never protested the one thing that has really hurt this country: terrorism.
Instead, they say we deserve it. They say we bring it on oruselves. They fight for terrorists to be treated like humans, they protest the arrests of terrorists, they take the side of the very people who want us dead, who have killed so many.
Why aren't the marching for the rights of Americans to live in safety, to live without fear of chemicals and bombs?
I'm not the only one wondering this. Apparently John had the same thoughts.
I may not be able to get to the city for the marches on Saturday, but I can certainly get to more than a few Long Island Rail Road stations. The protest trains are getting ready to roll and I think I'll be handing out flyers or plastering the cars at the station with flyers.
It will be easy to tell the cars of the protesters. I'll just look for the Phish stickers on the back or follow the smell of patchouli.
I'm taking suggestions on what the flyers should say.
Saturday is going to be an interesting day in New York City. I have the desire to go in there and join the protesters, to infiltrate their ranks and try to talk some sense into them.
Of course, they wouldn't listen. They wouldn't even hear. And I am almost at the point where I have given up trying to figure these people out.
Yesterday, the great thinkers of the movement took over the office of the President of Hunter College.
They have a list of demands. One of them is that the college president herself publicly denounce the war on Iraq.
Is it just me or does everyone else see the folly behind this? Forcing someone to make a statement does not force them to believe that statement.
My secret moles have come through for me yet again and I have a tape recording of what took place after the students took over the college president's office.
Student 1: Raise the flag! We have occupied this territory!
Student 2: What flag? We don't have a flag.
Student 1: Well, just wave your shirt around.
Student 3: Ok, now we have to write a list of our demands.
Student 2: I'll write it. Here's an old brown paper bag we can write on.
All: Reduce! Resuse! Recycle!
They all sit on the floor as Student 2 writes down their demands.
Student 4: Make her denounce the war. And she has to say it like she really means it.
Student 2: How do you spell denounce?
Student 1: D-E-N ummm...
Student 5: How about "say no to the war?"
Student 2: That's better. Let's stick to small words. I haven't really been to a class in years. My spelling is rusty.
Student 4: Ok, next demand.
Student 3: Lower tuition.
Student 5: Free tuition!
Student 2: Free lunches!
Studnet 3: Fee Mumia!
They stop for a round of high-fives.
Student 1: Should we write a statement for her against the war?
Student 2: You know, we could make her say anything we want if she wants to get us out of her office.
Student 3: Heh, I didn't use deodorant today. Her office is gonna smell really bad if she doesn't meet our demands right away.
Student 5: Ok, so first demand is make her say "no war."
Student 3: Umm..make her say that she thinks I'm cute.
Student 1: Stop being such an idiot. This is serious. This is about war and resistence. We must conquer the minds of capitalist pigs and arrogant Americans who do nothing but spend money foolishly and take over countries for oil! We will occupy this office for as long as necessary!
Student 5: I gotta pee.
Student 2: I'm hungry.
Student 4: Hey, let's go to Starbucks!
Student 1: No! NOOO! Dont' go! Vive le Resistance! Fight the Power! Flick your light switch for peace!!
Student 1 lies on the floor, weeping at the loss of her comrades.
Student 3: Can we send out for pizza?
(note to everyone who was mad: no spoiler warnings were necessary here. This is just my prediction. The last episode isn't until next week)
Violets are blue
Roses are Red
Zora's so gone
She didn't give head.
We Shall Stop the War!
So, if I get all my friends to flick our lights on and off for two minutes every night does that mean we win?
My first thought is S-E-X. They found some human anatomy reference book, or a magazine that should not have been left laying around or some novel where they say things like "bring me your manly meat." I can feel myself turning red .
Yes, my kids are up to no good again. we're not laughing with you, we're laughing at you!. My new story at Raising Hell.
Now, when you're done with that, don't forget to enter the Valentine's Day Poetry Contest. I swear, there's a real prize this time. Also I need three judges.
I hope you don't feel too bad about your cousins disowning you. Take it from me, the pain goes away after a while. Just have a shot of tequila, burn a few pictures of your spiteful relatives and it's all good.
I know your pain, Donald. When I was twelve, one of my sisters disowned me because I developed a huge crush on The Bay City Rollers. All of them. Years later, my entire family disowned me when it was discovered that I was secretly rooting for the New York Rangers instead of the Islanders in order to please the guy I was dating at the time. I'm sure you can relate to that, Donald. It's the whole "rooting for the wrong team" thing. Your family roots for appeasement, and all you want is to kick some ass. We were on opposite sides of the ice for a while there, me and my family. At least your cousins are a world or so away from you. Keeps all those fistfights from breaking out at Thanksgiving dinner.
In fact, I've been disowned and brought back into the fold more times than I can remember. I won't even tell you about the thing with the porn star and the nun, because I know how you feel about such delicate matters of the flesh. Just suffice it to say that I have stood where you stand now - scorned by family members, labeled a black sheep.
Just hang in there, Rummy. Don't let those weasily German cousins of yours make you feel bad. They'll come around to your way of thinking when they have nukes sticking out of their asses. Of course, then it will be too late. But you'll have the last laugh.
On the Menu Today:
Sliced, stale bread with egg all over its face.
Greasy, oil covered, and slightly rude
French Onion Soup
Slippery, unwashed onions in a brew of recycled shower water (SEASONAL)
Served, obviously, with French Whine.
Anyone for dessert? German food?
Steve Dunleavy in today's New York Post:
COLLEVILLE-SUR-MER, France - They stand only 3 feet high, but they're towering mountains of sacrifice.
I'm standing in the American Cemetery. Gray clouds hang low as if in mourning for the nearly 10,000 young Americans buried beneath crosses and Stars of David that stretch as far as the eye can see.
The air is chill, but I feel an unnatural glow of rage - I want to kick the collective butts of France.
These kids died to save the French from a tyrant named Adolf Hitler.
And now, as more American kids are poised to fight and die to save the world from an equally vile tyrant, Saddam Hussein, where are the French?
Hiding. Chickening out. Proclaiming, Vive les wimps!
Of course, they don't think of this. For whatever reasoning, they are against us. Not particularly against war - this coming war- but against America and against Bush.
Don't confuse Chirac's anti-Americanism with a love of peace. The French, for the most part, hate us. 91% of them, in fact. I'm not sure why, but it's really starting to irk me that America is the land of the free, the home of the brave when you need something from her, but as soon as she needs help from other's, she's an arrogant bitch.
Jessica, an American if France, told Dunleavy this telling statement:
"We have been told that if we face any kind of a threat, we should say we're Canadians, not Americans."
Piss off, France. And piss off to anyone who opposes America at every chance, anyone who values the life of a madman over the lives of their fellow countrymen.
Who are you going to call when the bombs start falling? Who are you going to call when the chemical attacks start, when your children are falling ill at an alarming rate, when your buildings are blowing up?
That's right. You'll call the arrogant bitch. And we'll be there. Because we're good like that.
How much tension can we hold before we snap?
The orange alert flashes on the bottom of the screen while the winter storm warning scrolls by on the top.
France and Germany are being rebellious little children. Blix is holding up the "don't steal" sign while Rumsfeld and Powell are waving the runners home.
They expect nearly one million anti-war protesters on the streets of New York this weekend.
NATO and the U.N. are playing power games while their footing is slipping. Saddam is cooperating. No, he is stalling. No, he is lying.
Dirty bombs. Anthrax. Hotels and subways are vulnerable. Be vigilant. Be alert.
Prepare. Buy rock salt, be prepared for a messy evening rush hour. Watch for ice. Drive carefully.
Stay out of the city this weekend. Stay out of the subways. But watch for the million mumia march coming down Fifth Avenue.
War is coming. Terrorism is coming. Six more weeks of winter and gray skies. Buy bottled water. Stock up on medicine. Do you know where I can buy some of that freeze dried food?
Planes are flying low today. Is that a black helicopter I see? What was that sound? Orange. It's still at orange, right?
Shovel the walk. Give the kids their antibiotics. Fill the tank of the SUV, fully aware that you are not supporting terrorism by doing so. But you think that the throngs of kids with their ANSWER placards are.
Madonna, Dave Matthews, George Clooney. Who cares? All news, all the time on the tv. Warnings. Alerts. Be on the lookout.
Be on guard. Don't forget to wear your gloves. Watch for black ice. Is that plane flying too low? Has North Korea aimed thier weapons at us yet?
I sense a great disturbance in the force.
I finally won something that didn't come with a big old cup o' controversy.
John Hawkins at Right Wing News put together the First Annual Warbloggers Awards.
Voting was completed over the past week (full disclosure: I was a judge) and the winners were announced this morning.
I'd like to thank the esteemed panel of voters for naming me Best Female Blogger. I've prepared a short speech for the occassion.
Picture me wearing a t-shirt that says War is the Answer.
I'd like to thank Sheryl, Viggo, Sean and Babs for giving me such ripe material to work with. And thank you my de-linkers, comment trolls and Indymedia for making this a year filled with blogging material.
Come for the war talk, stay for the boobies and fart jokes!"
Seriously, thank you to all the judges who voted for me. It's an honor to be standing up here on this podium in my pajamas. To Jane, Rachel and Virginia - my co-winners, thank you for being an inspiration to me. I mean that. I share this award of $1,000,000,000 with you all.
What? John told me there was a million dollar prize! Oh well. I've got $8.43 to split with you ladies.
Congratulations to all the winners. You are all quite deserving and I am proud to be associated with such amazing people.
Heh, my friend Aaron made it into the list of mosty annoying bloggers and I didn't even nominate him!
Thanks so much to John for putting this together.
Now, go read the full list and check out all the winners.
Premature Valentine's Day greetings for every one of you.
Time for another diversion from war, terror and Michael Jackson.
When I was in fourth grade, the boy who sat next to me received a Valentine's Day card from the girl he was smitten with. This girl was quite the bitch and honed her skills early on in life. The card to Mr. Unrequited Love read:
Roses are red
They grow in this region
If I had your face
I'd join the foreign legion.
She and her friends got quite the giggle out of this. Personally, I thought it was cruel.
Yes, but life goes and all these years later I am not bothered by romantic cruelty at all. Nor am I so virtuous that I would not take the impending "romantic" holiday and turn it into a joke.
So, a contest for you.
Valentine's Day poems. No, not sweet, lovesick poems. They have to be from one famous person to another.
For instance, from Susan Sarandon to Saddam. From Courtney Love to Dave Grohl. Ernie to Bert. From John Rocker to the City of New York.
Must be in the form of Roses are red, etc.
Enter as often as you like. Prize to be disclosed later. Entries can be submitted until Thursday 6p, EST. Void in France and Germany.
Added to the newsbloggers list in the past week:
Movers and Shakers:
Beer Mary has moved to new digs and she's still chock full of cute doggie pictures.
If you haven't already, check out Memefacture: Weblog and Automated Trend Reporting.
And then there's Blizg: a blog index that focuses on metadata.
Enjoy the links. I'm going to go chew my nails or eat everything in the fridge.
Pity Dave Matthews. He has joined the long list of celebrities who have come out against the war. Apparently, Dave did not put much thought or research into his little coming out piece.
For instance, he says:
Yes, let the people of Iraq rise up and conquer their ruthless leader! Strength from within! Raise Your Voices! Vote the Opposit...
Oh. There is no opposition, is there? Hussein was recently re-elected by garnering 100% of the vote.
I'm sure if the people of the region weren't afraid of having their heads impaled on a stick or their children starved and tortured, they might just consider a regime change.
It's so easy to sit on your rock star pedastel and make simplistic statements. We shouldn't have enemies, they say. We should just play nice. You know, make love, not war.
I thought lefties were internationalists as opposed to isolationist like they accuse the righties of being. Yet, when confronted with the atrocities taking place in Iraq on a daily basis, they suddenly reconsider and decide that the people of Iraq should fend for themselves. It's not a good enough reason to go to war.
Oh, when the kill Americans or when they kill Canadians, then we should march in there with guns blazing and bombs dropping. But until then, it's every Iraqi for themselves.
Go back to playing your crappy music, Dave. Leave the politics to those who actually read the paper and watch the news rather than being fed words from a press agent who probably thinks this was a good career move.
See Jay for more on this.
I had on idea I was on assignment.
Sometimes I skip over an important news item if everyone and their brother is writing about it. Instead, I'll go over to those other blogs and leave a comment or two.
But, for the sake of those who wrote to me (and five of them are considered to be leftists) I will clarify my standing on the two issues for you.
1. I think the Patriot Act II, much like its predecessor, is dangerous and unhealthy for us a nation.
2. As I said in Solly's comments, The New York Sun was wronger than incest.'
Should you require more information, please let me know and I'll be glad to expand my rather succint thoughts on the matters at hand.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled leftist blogs, whose authors seem to think that because a person doesn't write about a subject, they are quietly condoning it.
update: Jane Galt is taking the heat as well.
Attention all warbloggers, be on the look out for one Mr. Bryce Rasmussen of Canada, IP address 126.96.36.199.
Bryce has been making the rounds on weblogs, inserting his arrogant rants and superiority complex into the comments of posts all over the place.
Bryce has been spotted numerous times at this very blog and he is now making the rounds through the blogosphere. Rasmussen is armed with computer and dangerous. He takes any opportunity to add his negativity to comments. He does not believe in debate. He only believes in name calling and confused rhetoric.
Bryce's last brush with my patience came when I read this lovely, uplifting post on Horsefeathers and almost threw up halfway through the comments when Bryce appeared with his particular brand of vitriol. One count of uncessary roughness, one count of rude behavior, one count of inappropriate display of arrogance.
Once again, his IP address is2 188.8.131.52. He was last seen dressed like a refuge from 1969.
If you see Mr. Bryce in your comments, please notify the blogger police at once. The recommended way of dealing with Bryce "Canadians Rule, Americans Drool" Rasmussen is to delete his comments and leave this image where his words once appeared. It is the all-purpose Bryce Rasmussen comment generator.
Hopefully, he will get the hint and disappear.
Here's something to give you a nice chill this afternoon.
(Spotted at Indymedia)
DEBKAfile: Al Qaeda’s Opening Shot in Iraq War
Saturday night, February 8, in the Iraqi-Kurdish city of Suleimaniyeh, al Qaeda and Iraqi military intelligence fired their first shot of the US-Iraq war - by assassination. They used their shared surrogate, the extremist Kurdish Ansar al-Islam of northeast Iraq, to eliminate the top command of the pro-American Patriotic Union of Iraqi Kurdistan’s fighting militia.
This doesn't sound horribly ominous until you read further:
DEBKAfile’s military analysts compare the murders to the assassination of the Afghan Northern Alliance commander Shah Massoud two days before the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in New York and Washington.
Then, the killers posed as journalists; this time, they pretended to be defectors.
Is the assasination a tell-tale sign of imminent terrorism? Does it provide evidence of a link between al Qaeda and Iraq?
DEBKA's track record is a bit spotty, but still, this story is certainly food for thought; ammunition for fear.
DEBKAfile’s counter-terror experts note the features common to these murders and al Qaeda’s assassination of the legendary Northern Alliance leader, Ahmad Shah Massoud, by two suiciders who detonated bomb belts just two days before the Islamic terrorist network struck in New York and Washington. Today it is generally believed that al Qaeda, predicting America’s response to the terror attacks, struck in advance of the Afghanistan War to eliminate America’s most gifted and formidable military ally.
I'm waiting to see if this story gets any play from the major news outlets. Until then, I'll be wondering a)if that orange alert is no fluke and b) what this means in terms of the coming war.
I had a very sobering dream last night.
I was in a stark white room, presumably a hospital. I was strapped down to a bed and there were all kinds of wires and tubes snaking around the bed and into my body. I heard the beep and the whirr of some kind of machinery, but I couldn't see because my sight was focused on the ceiling. I could not move my eyes.
There was a round mirror on the ceiling and in that surface I saw myself. Thinned out to startling proportions. Only a few wisps of hair. My skin was a pasty, deathly shade of gray.
The beeping sound became monotone. One long, shrill beep. The whirr of the machinery stopped.
I looked down at myself, having risen in some form above the bed. And there I saw DJ and Natalie, kneeling next to my death bed, crying. And then DJ said "I told her to stop smoking. Why didn't she listen to me?"
I forced myself to wake up at that point.
I am never buying another pack of cigarettes. I am done.
Ramsey Clark has drafted an Articles of Impeachment
The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other High Crimes and Misdemeanors. --Article II, Section 4 of The Constitution of the United States of America
Mr. Clark was also so kind as to prepare historical notes for the impeachment movement.
Yes, Ramsey Clark, former Attorney General.
Ah, Bizzaro World. I wonder if the weather is nice there.
Ramsey Clark, who fights to free a murderer.
Ramsey Clark, who called Jesus a terrorist.
Ramsey Clark, who supports the Workers World Party.
Ramsey "It's All About the Oil" Clark.
Even when I leaned to the left, I could not ever imagine leaning so far as to fall off the edge of reality.
I would like to start a fund to buy Ramsey his own little island. There, he can set up a socialist government and invite all his bizzaro world friends to come live with him, where they will enjoy the peace, prosperity and life long happiness and contement that they assume socialism will bring.
I've made a few more banners, some by special request and two dedicated to my new Canadian friend Bryce, whose comments run along the lines of "Canada good. America bad. America will collapse soon."
The first one is for Bryce. From now on, when he spouts his Fall of the American Empire theories, I will add this to his comment.
This is also for Bryce, as well as smug Europeans who apparently don't have mirrors in their house.
One more for my leftist friends:
This one "Cheese Eating Surrender Monkey" is by special request.
If you have a request for a banner, let me know. Happy to oblige.
New feature here at ASV: Download This
I'm going to start sharing my music with you. And you will like it.
Far, Waiting For Sunday
From the album Water and Solutions
This is one of the few cds I own that I can listen to from beginning to end, every single day, and never get tired of it. It's a bit on the emo side, but I find the music very soothing and the lyrics quite intruiging.
There' something about this song that makes my heart ache.
Waiting For Sunday
I'm always frightened
I wear my helmet every day
I'm scared the sky might tumble down from heaven
I blame my neighbors
I wish that they'd all move away
They're all on welfare, kill babies, pass bad laws, start all the wars
I wait for a miracle
I go to big building, I pray
I dance with demons, they whisper my fate
Scare me into thinking I'm saved
We're all so tired
We wear our raincoats every day
To keep the wet and wind and world out
Waiting for Sunday
Anytime I make a post about Iraq, certain people come on over and say the same thing in every single comment section. Again and again. And generally, they say it with such rudeness and smugness that it's all I can do not to look up their home address and go bitchslap them.
Oh, it's not just me. I see it on so many blogs. Different day, same comments. Different post, same righteousness.
So I'd like to do you all a favor. I'm going to save you some time. Instead of coming over here and writing out the same stuff every single day, instead of having to spend valuable time typing in my comments when you could be out sending rice to Bush or getting naked for peace, I've created The Instant Comment Imaging System for you.
Just save these buttons and post them into the comment section here or on other blogs when the need arises. Think of all the time and energy you will be saving.
I've made three for specific occassion and then one all-purpose button for when you have a lot to say.
Don't thank me. It was my pleasure.
I've been nothing but saddened every time I hear another rumor about some shitty actor "in talks" to play Superman.
Ashton Kutcher, Brendon Fraser, John Travolta, some Canadian name Victor Webster, Jude Law to name but a few.
Scrawny English Boy as Superman? Please. Stop. You're killing me.
I'm starting a new mission and that is to get my favorite actor to be cast as Superman. Of course, it will never happen for two simple reasons - DC Comics has a say in the casting and it seems like all they want is a pretty face; and Bruce Campbell just won't have the crossover-to-females appeal that Tobey Maguire did for Spiderman.
Anyhow, I came up with a fair, balanced and scientifically fault-free poll to see what your take on the Superman casting is. If I get enough voters, I will send the results of the poll to director Brett Ratner and D.C. Comics. Now, choose wisely. Take your time. Think about it before you hit the button.
My coolest find of the week:
An unprecedented fusion of CG-animation and Japanese anime, The Animatrix is a collection of nine original short films conceived by the Wachowski Brothers, the creators of The Matrix trilogy. Inspired by the visionary action and innovative storytelling that power the trilogy, this spectacularly visual short film series delves deeper into the mind-bending world of The Matrix and the characters who inhabit it. Created in the anime style pioneered by Japanese animation artists and helmed by world-renowned anime directors, The Animatrix also features the voices of actors Keanu Reeves (Neo) and Carrie-Anne Moss (Trinity) in two of the shorts.
The Animatrix features short films directed by some of the world's premiere anime filmmakers, including:
Yoshiaki Kawajiri (writer/director of the anime classics Ninja Scroll and Vampire Hunter D)
Shinchiro Watanabe (writer/director of the anime feature Cowboy Bebop)
Koji Morimoto (animation supervisor of the seminal anime film Akira)
Mahiro Maeda (director of the sci-fi anime series Blue Submarine No. 6)
Takeshi Koike (lead animator on several of director Yoshiaki Kawajiri's films, including Wicked City)
Peter Chung (creator and director of the popular MTV series Aeon Flux)
Andy Jones (animation director for the stunning CG film Final Fantasy: The Spirits Withi
I watched the first episode several times. Fascinating story, great animation. I can't wait for the whole thing to be released.
Watch it and learn more about The Animatrix here.
(thanks to Sgt. Mom for today's tagline)
"Peacenicks Got Back"
(with apologies to Sir-Mix-Alot)
no SUV, you got a honda
you idolize jane fonda
but fonda didn't get naked
and run out of her honda
she's a naked sista
a war resistor
sending bush that rice
you can't miss her
so ladies if you're hanging around
and all this war talk's gettin' you down
that's what this protest's for
peacenicks got back
Today's post is brought to you by the color orange and the number 4.
Four, because that's how many blogs I read in the past 24 hours that had the (paraphrased) statement: If you see anything suspicious, alert the authorities.
I'm not clear on their meaning of suspicious. It's so broad, so far reaching that I could probably turn in everyone I came in contact with today.
There was the man rooting through my recycle bin. Very suspicious. Was he looking for remnants of a secret meeting I had? Was he planning on using one of the empty bottles in the bin to store some chemicals? Perhaps I should have called 911.
What about the hang-up call I go this morning? Strange breathing, a bit of muttering...perhaps if I had a secret decoder on my phone I would realize that the muttering was actually code for "We have planted a bomb in your recycle bin. Repent Heathen!" It must be the SUV in my driveway. The Arabs have come for me because I'm using too much of their oil.
7-11 was full of suspicious looking people today. The little boy who was carrying around a plain brown bag, clutching it like he didn't want anyone to see the contents. His mother was pouring coffee and keeping a close eye on him at the same time - I think her eyes could be described as shifty. Should I have called the police? They were obviously up to something.
Oh, I get it. You just want me to watch out for the "resident aliens from "those" Islamic countries (Iraq, Algeria, Pakistan, Egypt, Saudi, Syria, Lebanon, etc., etc.)." I see. Watch for the dark skin and "funny" accents, right? Geez, my neighborhood is full of them. What's a patriot to do? Perhaps I'll stake out their houses all day long. Those kids building a snowman on the front lawn look so innocent, but maybe they are hiding bombs in the snowmen!
Be alert. Be vigilant. Shouldn't those be standard issue strategies for every day of your life?
The color orange is not an excuse to go all vigilante on your neighbors. And contrary to what some people think, it doesn't mean you can do strip searches on the woman next door because you think she may be hiding something in her bra.
Be alert for low-flying objects. It's gonna be a mud-slinging kind of day.
For more - and better - words on code orange, go see Rossi, who is going to make sure if she's going to be a victim of terrorism, she's at least going down with short toenails.
So the short nap turned into an all-nighter. I'm either getting old or the sickness and turmoil of the whole preceeding week finally caught up with me.
I see you kept yourselves entertained with the band sausage game. I may have to do a little photoshopping for the really creative entries later.
Meanwhile, before I get down to the daily routine of being an "idiot chickenhawk" or "misinformed, brainwashed American," I took the time to post a new photo essay.
You will go read it. You will click on each picture. You will leave comments. Everything I do, I do for you.
Ok, so I just realized it took me well over an hour to make the photo essay. I just want to make sure people are actually looking at them (besides my sisters, I mean) before I start updating the photoblog on a regular basis again.
(Yes, I am completely aware that I totally messed up the photoblog site. I'll figure it out later. But you can still read the post and comment. I think.)
Stacy rode to my rescue, once again.
Back when this blog was on Freeservers (and then again about a year ago) played this game calledband sausages, where you take two or more bands and combine their names together to make a whole new band. Example: The Beastie Boyz II Men, The Crystal Methods Of Mayhem, Grateful Dead or Alive. Get it? There's no real hardcore rules. Be creative. Squeeze as many bands as you can in, like this person did the last time I played this game: Shakespear's Sisters of Mercyful Fate's Warning .
You could even go the whole nine yards and come up with a song title for the new band, but it's not necessary.
Hey, you're home on a Friday night, too. Might as well have some fun.
Ok, here's some fun that everyone can get into.
The very first Blogger Slasher Movie.
(brought to you by this site)
The Interactive Slasher Movie
The camera shows us a loud party, packed with people listening to loud music. Gradually the camera moves towards a heavy wooden door. Behind the door moaning sounds can be heard. Slowly, the camera moves towards the keyhole, closer and closer until we can see exactly what is going on in the room - Michele is licking Joe McNally's scrotum and he is moaning in pleasure...
Joe McNally: Oh I just love it when you lick me there!
Michele: Are you ready to go all the way?
Joe McNally: Well...I'm still not sure...
Michele: Come on, it'll be fun!
Joe McNally: Well...okay...
Suddenly, an ear-shattering scream comes from another part of the house and the music stops. Joe McNally leaps up from the bed.
Joe McNally: What was that!
Michele: Nothing sweety, hey why don't you come back over here...
Joe McNally: No! I have to find out what happened.
Joe McNally pulls his clothes tightly around him and makes for the door. After a moment Michele follows.
A large group of people stand in a circle, staring down at the ground in a mixture of disgust and amazement. Michele and Joe McNally appear on the scene, hair ruffled, Michele still in the process of adjusting her skirt.
Michele: What happened?
But a moment later is is startlingly clear what happened. Kevin Parrot lies on the ground, his dead eyes staring at the ceiling. In his hands is a bloody egg beater that it is obvious was used to kill him.
Joe McNally: Oh my God who killed him?
Anna Bunny: Nobody knows! Everyone was dancing one minute and the next...
Beer Mary: Our studies have shown that whoever killed him would have to be standing in this room right now however...
Michele: Well it wasn't me! I was licking Joe McNally's scrotum!
Beer Mary: Really? Lucky girl!
Joe McNally: You bitch! You told me that you wouldn't tell anyone!
Michele: Hey, sorry honey...
Joe McNally: Well you know what! You can shove your going all the way up your ass! I'm leaving!
The crowd of people ooh and ahh.
Michele: Don't worry. I know you'll be back Joe McNally, you can't live without me!
Joe McNally gives Michele the finger and storms off.
Joe McNally walks into the kitchen and heads towards the fridge, shaking his head in dismay. Out of the shadows Andrea Harris appears, holding a rake...
Andrea Harris: Hey Joe McNally why so glum?
Joe McNally: Oooh don't hide in the shadows like that, you'll give me a heart-attack!
Andrea Harris: Sorry.
Joe McNally: Oh that's okay, sorry to snap at you like that it's just that Michele and me are having problems...Err, Andrea Harris can I ask you something?
Andrea Harris: Go ahead.
Joe McNally: Why are you holding a rake?
Andrea Harris looks sheepish before...
Andrea Harris: Take this you heartless bastard!
Michele: Not so fast!
Andrea Harris turns her head to see Michele standing in the doorway holding a chainsaw.
Andrea Harris: Ooh damn, I'm in trouble now aren't I?
Joe McNally: I'll say!
Beer Mary: Ooh, an old fashioned showdown!
Everyone turns to see Beer Mary standing in the doorway holding a pointy pencil.
Beer Mary: Turns out I'm the only one with a pointy pencil though doesn't it? Hmm...which side should I be on? Good or evil, good or evil, good or...
Suddenly Joe McNally swings open the fridge door and pulls out a moldy cheese, swinging it hard against Andrea Harris's head. She crumples to the ground.
Joe McNally: Take that you piece of shit!
Michele: The old hit the bad-lady in the head with a moldy cheese trick hey! Impressive.
Joe McNally: Really?
Michele: Oh yeah.
Beer Mary: Ahem. Excuse me but I'm trying to be evil over here.
Joe McNally: Beer Mary put the pointy pencil down or else I will personally remove your gonads...
Beer Mary: With a moldy cheese?
Joe McNally: Well...maybe.
In the moment that it takes for Beer Mary to decide whether or not that is impossible, Michele spins on a heel and snatches the pointy pencil away from her.
Beer Mary: No! You can't do that! That's cheating!
Michele assaults Beer Mary with the pointy pencil until there is nothing but a bloody corpse left.
Joe McNally: Should we take out his gonads?
Michele: Hmm, I don't know about that, but I sure would like another chance to lick your scrotum...
Joe McNally: You know what? I think I like the sound of that...
And they all lived happily ever after. Well, Kevin Parrot, Beer Mary and Andrea Harris didn't. What with being dead and all. But that's just details.
Next up is the Blogger Springer Show.
It's Friday night and screw seriousness. I've got my drinks lined up, the kids are gone and I'm ready to have some fun.
What do you guys want to do tonight?
If you don't come up with some kind of fun thing for me to do here, I'm going to post pictures of our sledding excursion today. It's like home movies for the blogosphere. I swear on my cat's dirt grave, I'll make you eat this while I'm forcing you to view pictures of my son and his friends snowboarding down the school steps.
And if I don't get any suggestions for a wacky kind of blogging game show or truth or dare or posting links to martian sex, the baby Jesus will cry. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?
Yes, I'm drunk already.
Rachel, you promised to drink with me tonight. I hope you started already.
Mark Morford had pretty much become my new Ted Rall. I love to loathe him and hold him up to grade school levels of ridicule. Often times I have to read his column three times, decipher the code, hold it up to a mirror and run it through the blender before I can make sense out of it.
It's not that I don't have the intelligence to understand what he's saying. It's more like I have too much intelligence for my brain to comprehend his breathless rantings as real words and sentences.
Now, like Ted Rall before him, Morford has become too easy to mock. His columns say the same thing over and over again - America Is Evil, It's All About the Oil, Bush is a StooopidDoodyHead.
Hmmm. Wait. Did I just stumble into the blog of a fifteen year old war protester? Is this some high school kid's essay on Why America is Bad?
Please, someone explain to me once again why this guy gets paid to write mash notes the Choamsky/Moore/Fisk groupies and I'm still giving my words out for free.
Anyhow, the most I can say about today's Morford Monstrosity, Everyone Loves A Dead Iraqi, is just a rebuttal to the final paragraph where he writes:
our U.N. standing is a joke
The joke's on you, Mark. Who would really want to be in good standing in a place where Libya chairs the Human Rights Committee and Iran and Iraq are on the Disarmament Committee?
Oh, that's right. The pacifists. Enjoy the U.N. while you can. It's going to be nothing but the punch line to political jokes soon.
I spotted this morning and I swear I saw an appiration of Jesus on this cross holding a banner that said "Bomb Iraq."
Maybe it was snowblindess.
Still, doesn't this cross seem a bit wrong to anyone but me?
Click for bigger image. Sorry about the large file, no photo editor at work.
A bit swamped at work today, so I'll just take a few minutes to quote Bill O'Reilly until I get another post in.
The truth is that we're going to war to maintain stability in the world. If a madman like Saddam used deadly weapons to get control of the Gulf oil flow, the entire world would be at his mercy.
The United States now drives the world economy. If this country goes down the tubes business-wise, the whole world suffers. We make, buy and donate most of the world's goods. So any intrusion on our security is bad for the whole world and many resent that.
If the United States was an imperialist power, we would have done what the Soviets did after World War II, enslave countries. Instead, we rebuilt Japan and Germany and most of Europe, allowing millions to live in freedom at our expense....
....The truth is that America must now protect itself against fanatics who hate freedom and knowledge. And we must protect the world without the help of cowardly countries like France and Germany, and opportunistic countries like China and Russia.
The task is almost impossible, but if anyone can do it, we can.
And that's the memo.
The terror alert level will most likely go up to orange today. I try to color coordinate my outfits when the level changes but I don't have anything orange except for an old Miami Dolphins t-shirt that I refuse to wear for aesthetical reasons.
I don't mean to make light of a scary situation, but the terror level alerts have always struck me as overkill. Perhaps just one lighted billboard hanging outside the White House press room flashing the words "Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid" will suffice. Yellow, orange, red, it doesn't really matter what the color dujour is. I've been pretty much on high alert since September 11, 2001.
There is an underlying menace to the new threats that was missing from the previous alerts, in that they are warning of biolgical and chemical attacks. A low flying plane, you can see that coming. You run. You hide. Masked men running down your street with guns blazing is usually a good sign that you should hide, also.
Germs and gas are pretty hard to avoid. I had one of those horrid 3am visions of school cafeteria food across the country being poisoned. It's enough to make you want to grab your children and run for the nearest fallout shelter.
In my son's school (which was also my school), the fallout shelter symbol that haunted me in my youth is still there. It's on the stairwell that leads down to the school basement, which is now used for the early intervention program. The wall leading down to the basement has since been painted a bright blue and complimented with some fluffly clouds, rainbows, bunnies and the ever present fallout shelter sign. I imagine a horde of terrified kids being led down to the school basement as sirens blair and military helicopters fly overhead, the bunnies on the wall grinning at the children as they clutch the bannister and cry for their mothers.
The same hallways in which I had to crouch and tuck my head between my legs when the air raid drill rang out 30 years ago is now the hallway that boasts a huge banner with the scrawl of at least hundred children blazing across it - a tribute to those who died on September 11, still hanging there with it's hastily scribbled flags and crudely painted depictions of buildings on fire.
The air raid drills were never real for me. I often thought that they made us practice the duck-and-cover because the teachers liked to see us in such a submissive position. Sometimes I would take a peek at what the teachers were doing while we crouched in the hallway and I could see Mr. Dillon swining the yardstick he always carried around and I was sure that one day he was just going to snap and start whacking us all in the head with the stick while we sat there waiting for the mushroom cloud that never came.
They say the level of concern is "now at its highest" since September 11, 2001 but I think for some of us, the level of concern has been at elevated for a long time. I certainly don't need a color coordinated chart to tell me that my life is at risk every single day. Between slippery roads, toxic meat, crazed dictators and high cholesterol my life has been one long red alert, punctuated by short periods where I slip into a blissful memory fog, willfully blocking my memories of the Vietnam War or the Iranian hostage crisis.
So I look at today's possible orange beacon of danger and think that it's all just a bunch of stating the obvious. Our lives are always in danger, and the alerts are always right in front of us. Stop signs and package warnings and "do not remove this tag under the penalty of law" scream at us daily that there is danger, Wil Robinson.
I bravely walk through my day, smiling in the face of terror threats, making jokes about Hussein and driving a bit faster than I should be.
Then 3am comes and I am laying in the darkness with a fear that sometimes smothers me. I'm afraid when no one can see me. The brave front slips and I dream up all kinds of crazy scenarios; nuclear bombs, crop dusters spraying disease all over our streets. I think the oil burner is making a funny noise and I get up and whack the carbon monoxide detector to make sure it's working. Then I go and check on the kids. Still, at 13 and 10, I check on them at least once a night, standing above them to watch the rise and fall of their chests. My son is a deep sleeper and I hold my breath as I wait for his and when his shallow, barely perceptible breath doesn't come fast enough, I gently hold my hand over his heart to make sure he's still breathing.
I go back to bed and dream of war and terror, flames and plane crashes, zombies and tax auditors. I often wake up gasping for air.
And then the morning comes and the bravado wakes with me, keeping me laughing and joking and acting all arrogant in the face of new threats, and all the time I am on red alert, always on red altert.
Watching the Michael Jackson special, I think I've discovered the one instance where the phrase What About the Childrentm is totally appropriate.
Why is he calling his child Blanket? Doesn't this guy feel a bit foolish saying "Ive seen Blanket and it's safe to say his mother is probably white?"
Ok, did anyone else get the creeps when they started talking about Gavin?
Interviewer: So Gavin sleeps in your bed...
Michael is sounding more and more like the poster boy for NAMBLA.
What's wrong with sharing the loooooove? It's all about the looooooooove!
(LINKS NOT SAFE FOR WORK! DO NOT CLICK UNLESS YOUR BOSS LIKES NAKED WOMEN AND HE-WOMEN)
We're sorry. All our thought processes are clogged right now. Your page visit is very important to us. Please stay on the line and you will be served by our next available coherent thought.
.......You're motoring ,what's your price for flight......
Please continue to hold. Your comments may be monitored to ensure quality service.
.......In finding mister right, you'll be all right tonight.......
We're sorry. All our thought processes are clogged right now. Your page visit is very important to us. Please stay on the line and you will be served by our next available coherent thought.
..........Sister Christian oh, the time has come and you know that you're the only one to say........
Please continue to hold. Your comments may be monitored to ensure quality service.
So by now I'm sure you've all seen this email:
Every 14th of February you get the chance to display your fondness for your wife or girlfriend by showering her with gifts, flowers, dinner, shows and any other extras that women find romantic. Here is a secret...guys feel left out. That's right...left out. There's no special holiday for the ladies to show their appreciation for the men in their lives. Men as a whole are either too proud or just too embarrassed to admit it, which is why a new holiday has been created. March 20th is now officially "Steak & Blowjob Day." Simple, effective and self-explanatory...this holiday has been created so you ladies can have a day to show your men just how much you love them. No cards, no flowers, no special nights on the town-the name of the holiday explains it all...just a steak and a BJ. That's it. This twin pairing of Valentine's Day and Steak & Blowjob Day will usher in a new age of love as men everywhere will try THAT much harder in February to ensure a more memorable March! It's like a perpetual love machine. The word is already spreading, but as with any new idea, it needs a little push to start the ball rolling. So spread the word, and help bring love and peace to this crazy world.
On the way to work today I was listening to Paul Harvey do another one of his ads-that-sound-like-a-story but I was distracted by the sight of what appeared to be a hooker on the corner. When I turned my attention back to the radio (after realizing it wasn't a hooker at all, but a high school girl dressed like one) Paul was reciting a phone number for the current ad. 1-800-SEND-BJS. Huh? Send BJs? I listened again. Oh, 1-800-SEND-PJS. As in pajamas. Whew.
However, it did give me an idea, which ties in nicely with the Steak&Blowjob holiday.
What a great present that would be. Birthday? Promotion? Your team won the World Series? Imagine how much better those already joyous occassions would be if a busty young blonde knocked on your door and dropped to her knees right there. The girls (or guys, whichever your case may be) could also sing you a little song.
Congratulations on your special day
Your brother sent you this BJ!
And now, with Steak&Blowjob Day on its way to becoming a national phenomenon, 1-800-SEND-BJS could come to the rescue of significant others who are just too busy or have weak gag reflexes.
You cook the steak, the BJ staff will do the rest. I’m a business genius.
Submit your resumes/requests below.
Me, on January 28:
Neil Cavuto, last night:
(note to self: If you do not save from"draft" to "publish" your entry will go...unpublished!)
How could anyone doubt the need to go to war after Powell's speech yesterday? I'm dumbstruck by the cries of "give it more time" and "more weapons inspectors." The proof lies in front of you. And the only reason Powell can't produce physical evidence of that proof is because there is none.
See, the proof is nothing. No anthrax, no VX. Just blanks spaces and dead air. The goods have been evacuated. Not destroyed. Evacuated, as Powell emphasized several times yesterday. That means that nerve agents - enough to kill thousands upon thousands of people - are stashed away somewhere, ready for use at a moment's notice.
The proof is also intangible. You can't touch it or see it, but it's there. The denials, the refusal to cooperate, the behind-the-scenes shenanigans. Powell's speech played out like a an episode of Dictators Caught on Tape.
There was no smoke, no mirrors. This was no magician’s trick. It was real. Powell's words should have chilled you. They should have made you want to lock your doors and hide under your bed until you get the word that Saddam is gone. You should have stood in front of the tv, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, all the while the wheels in your head spinning until the words must.use.force. flashed before your eyes.
If you still think there was no smoking gun, I ask you this; what would it take? What more do you need to be convinced that sooner rather than later is the safest bet? Do you still have any doubt that Saddam Hussein is a ruthless man hell bent on destruction?
Give them more time, you say. If that litany of Saddam's offenses, together with his outright refusal to come clean or show any tiny fraction of honesty does not scare you into war mode, I don't know what will. Time is not our ally. The more minutes that tick away on the clock, the more time the scientists in their underground bunkers have to mix just the right chemicals in just the right amount to kill us all.
Wait for France and Germany, you say. We must not act unilaterally. that word - unilaterally - means alone. We are not alone. Just because France and Germany will not step over that line does not mean we are just walking into Iraq like lone soldiers on a personal quest. Ten nations here. And the eight nations here. That turns the uni to multi.
What about North Korea, you say. Do you see where North Korea is now? Their hatred for the United States plus their nuclear capabilities equals a dangerous, lethal combination. Iraq already has the hatred for the U.S. How much closer do you want them to get to having the nuclear capability to wipe the rest of the free world out? Do we wait until Iraq is equal to that of North Korea in weaponry and then we have those weapons facing us from both countries?
Saddam is not a threat, you say. He has tortured and killed his own people. He has developed biological and chemical weapons. He is a ruthless leader with no heart and a blackened soul. He considers democracy a threat. He considers the prosperity of the United States and our freedom a threat. You know what he is capable of. Just ask any of these people what Saddam is capable of.
I do not call for war with joy. The casualties of war are great. But I fear that the casualties of not going to war will be greater. Our relative safety, our lives, the lives of our children are at stake. What would it take to open your eyes to see this? What would it take to get you to protect our future? If Powell did not convince you that Hussein is a man who will not be reasoned with, not be negotiated with and cannot be trusted, I don't know what will.
Perhaps the moment when you see that Hussein is a threat will come too late. Perhaps it will come when the nerve gas first hits you, or when you are glued to your tv, watching coverage of an attack in another U.S. city. Perhaps it will never come.
This is what I believe in my heart of hearts. This is not a decision I came to lightly or overnight. I honestly and truly believe that Saddam Hussein and his Iraqi regime are a dangerous, immediate threat to our nation and our security. Powell's demonstration of Iraqi's subversiveness and deception only strengthen my beliefs.
You can call it war about oil. You can call the United States an empire and our armed forces mercenaries. You can deny the proof until the nukes start coming and you can justify the absence of Saddam's proof of disarmament until you're shaking white powder out of your mail. That is your belief, your rights.
But still, I ask you. What would it take? What would it take for you to agree that our future, our security and our very land is at stake?
War is not a party, it is not a joke. It is a necessary step to insure that we survive to see the next turn of the seasons. The next Super Bowl. Your child's next birthday. It is to insure that we survive intact and whole.
What more do you need?
After rooting through my folders for half an hour, I finally discovered that tomorrow is the official two year anniversary of this blog.
My first entry was about buying Reservoir Dogs action figures.
I know I promised lots of celebratory fun, but these nasty infections have knocked me out and left me humorless most of the week. I'll try to get back on the fun wagon tomorrow.
Thanks to everyone who has been with me for any part of the past two years. It's been an interesting ride and an incredible learning experience. I started out doing this for me - now it's about you, too. I love doing this. I love having you here.
I feel like I should be whipping out a yearbook for you to sign.
Really, I just wanted to say thanks for sharing every aspect of my life with me, even the stuff I probably shouldn't be sharing in a public space. You're all a part of this weblog, whether you like it or not. Even the trolls, the negative commenters and the people who constantly bait me into arguments. I will kill you my fierce love!
I don't know where that came from.
Anyhow, happy anniversary to me, and thanks for coming.
There's donuts and coffee in the kitchen.
Note to Mattie:
You have the greatest mom in the world. She thinks you walk on water and for all we know, you do. Be proud of who your mom is. Because of her, you're gonna be loved more than anyone has the right to ask.
Happy first birthday, little guy. It's been a pleasure watching you grow.
I know you were waiting with baited breath for this.
You may now all put down your "Free Iraq" signs and shake your ass for peace.
I'm just all aflutter waiting to hear Britney and Avril's stance on the issue.
Stop being so freaking serious. Can't you just look at this woman and go rub your crotch against the couch instead of making every single post I write into a catfight?
Look at that body! Jesus, people. Humor. It's what's for dinner.
Sure, a warm blanket and a hot cup of herbal tea can give you some comfort when you're sick, but nothing says comfort like food.
In this case, to stave off my sickness-depression and news overload, I'm having the mother of all comfort foods: pastina with butter and salt.
Not for the taste or the weighty, full feeling it gives you. Just for the comfort of eating something that reminds me of being taken care of by my mommy when I had the mumps all those years ago.
I came across this while looking for a picture of pastina. I can't imagine than anyone would eat this willingly.
Never mind Iraq. There is a greater danger at hand. Someone call the U.N. and see if they can get on this right away.
The horror, the horror!
Powell's show and tell session is not getting high grades from the anti-war faction. But no one really expected them to jump ship. Even with Powell presenting pictures and audio and everything but a shoebox diorama, the naysayers still had their fingers in their ears, yelling "lalallalalala I can't hear you!"
I was checking out Democratic Underground to see what they had to day. Same shit, different day. You could show these people a giant nuclear facility in the middle of the Iraqi desert and they would tell you it's a mosque.
And thusly, I am reminded of these Faith No More Lyrics:
If I speak at one constant volume
at one constant pitch
at one constant rhythm
right into you ear
you still won't hear
you still won't hear
Keep your fingers in your ears, guys. Keep those blinders on. Keep spouting your denials and disbelief.
If our government decides to go the way of appeasement just like you want them to, you'll be begging our soldiers to help you as the smoke rises from the wreckage of your city.
Before I get on with this war stuff, there's something I have to do.
Go wish Mike a happy birthday.
I'm wondering what Chirac is thinking as he listens to all this. I think I know.
Bear with me on this.
Many times, a community will ask the local authorities to put in a stop sign or traffic light at a dangerous corner. The authorities will invariably say no, there have been no deaths reported from accidents on this corner. Nevermind that there have been many accidents, many injuries and several close calls.
And then comes the deathly accident and the authorities rush in an put up a stop sign or traffic light, making a big deal out of caring about the safety of the residents and how they want to make sure that the victim did not die in vain.
Chirac - and most of the anti-war faction - will not put in that stop sign until it's too late. When the boom comes and people are laying dead, only then will the profess to care enough to do something about it.
This thought has been brought to you by fever and medication.
Just got back from the doctor. I scored an infection hat trick. Throat, respitory and ear. Go, me!
They were showing the Powell speech in the waiting room (thankfully pre-empting the Wayne Brady show) and I listened in the car as well. I'm back in front of the tv and all I can say is, looks pretty damning, doesn't it?
Stephen Green is blogging the whole thing minute by minute.
I'll give my thoughts after it's all over.
UPDATE: Chuck's got it going on, too.
I'm such an idiot. I scheduled my doctor's appointment for 10:30, the same time Powell will be addressing the U.N. I'm sure the tv in the waiting room will be tuned to Springer and not a news station.
I want to apologize to all the people who had to gouge their eyes out or take a cleansing bath after seeing those Courtney Love pictures I linked to. Just for you, as a token of my regret and shame for harming you in such a way, I found a nice picture to wash naked Courtney from your mind. Your moment of Zen:
What, you trusted me? Bad move.
Even so, I've done my part.
I'm just curious about a couple of things. They know damn well that the rice packages will never get to the president. So all that rice will be thrown in a dumpster somewhere. Either that or the White House press corps will be eating rice pudding at the next briefing.
Couldn't all that rice have fed some hungry people in the U.S.?
Is your rice making a difference?
If you look hard enough, you can find meaning in anything. The great - and bad - part of humanity is that the meaning can change from person to person. A rock may be a paperweight to one person, a weapon to another.
It's all in the interpretation and, for the most part, people interpret things to fit their own needs. Some people look at Harry Potter and see evil and witchcraft and the icon that will bring our children to hell. They see that because they need evil to be personified. They need to shove something in the face of their kids and say "see, this is what is going to bring you to your knees in front of satan!" Rather than give them something good to emulate, they would rather give their kids something bad to fear.
Fear and loathing are both awesome tools. When you hate and fear something at the same time, the mere mention of that thing will send you running for the holy water and garlic. Those emotions will eventually rule your life and you will most likely spend that life teaching others the same feelings.
It is unfortunate that most of the time, these teachers of negativity base their knowledge of what is wrong, evil and immoral in religion. To them, religion is power, a means to an end. If they can't rule the world, they may as well rule a small fraction of it. Prey on the weak and vulnerable, prey on the slight of mind, feed on those who already had the seeds of hatred sown within them. And do it in the name of God, because when you invoke God, no one will question you, right?
At LetGodBeTrue.com, religion and the teachings of Jesus have been entwined and mingled with hatred, bigotry and fear. Mixed in with the psalms and sermons all available with a click of your mouse, are words that teach just the opposite of what was probably Jesus’ intention. Ignorance, bigotry and intolerance were probably not high on the list of virtues that Jesus had in mind. Yet here, on this site proclaiming to be "dedicated to the glory and praise of the true and living God and His Son Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior," we find the following:
It is a terrible tragedy for the seven astronauts and their families, for whom we have prayed. But it is a very modest judgment for a nation that condemns public prayer, requires the teaching of evolution, kills over one million babies each year, caters to moon-worshipping Muslims, promotes Harry Potter, protects sodomites, allows witchcraft, defends labor unions, entertains itself with unbridled fornication, fosters rebellious children, loves pleasure more than God, and only has a form of godliness, among many other sins.
There is a God in heaven! What if He is just half of what the Bible describes? He is very angry at this wicked nation. This was not an accident; it only appears so to us. It was another warning of impending and irremediable judgment.
I may be an atheist, but I had been involved in organized religion for enough years to recognize twisted words and judgment when I see it.
When I was growing up Catholic, it was at a time when the idea of a vengeful god was more prominent than the idea of a loving and graceful god. We feared him, we were made to feel as if he were watching our every move and judging us accordingly. If you fell and skinned your knee or caught a cold, it was because God had seen you do something wrong. You were being punished accordingly.
I did not welcome the idea of a vengeful god. I was sure that if such an entity did exist, he would not kill people on purpose. Why would he kill the very thing he created? I asked a priest that very question once and he replied, "Because he can."
I am no longer part of the church and declared myself an atheist a long time ago. But I still recognize the fact that as much as I can be right that there is no god, I can still be wrong. And I'm pretty sure that if a god does exist, he would not wantonly kill seven innocent people in order to prove a point that America is a bad, bad country.
The point here is I have a special place in my pity file for people who feel the need to use religion as a vehicle for hate. Not only do these dark souls live each day consumed by hatred and bile, but they drag others into it. They manipulate and twist words until the weaker minds they are working on no longer know what the truth is; they are brainwashed into thinking that animosity and loathing are virtues when they are aimed at those who do not think like you.
If I am wrong in my non-belief and there is one all-powerful, all knowing entity who greets you at the gates of the afterlife when you die, I can only hope that when the people who preach intolerance make their way up there, they are summarily kicked in the teeth and sent packing to the darkness where they belong.
In regards to the post below, I hope I never wake up singing this:
Instead of just lying there,
Why don't you show me that you're powerful,
Put in triple X batteries just so you give me something wonderful,
Change it up fast and slow
Till I find the frequency I like.
Love it when you do my vibe on
Good vibrations, that's what gets my ride on, gotta have vibrations.
Those Minogue kids. What will they think of next?
via the man
I need some volunteers to do the deed. And let's try to get this done befor Powell makes his address tomorrow, so that's one less problem he'll have to deal with.
I think I have fever delerium. I fell asleep before and woke up singing this:
Seems like nothin' ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge
And now Billy Joe MacAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge
I immediately went back to sleep so I didn't have to listen to the song play out in my head. I must have slipped back into the same dream because I woke up singing this:
That's the night that the lights went out in Georgia
That's the night that they hung an innocent man
Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer
'cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands
I'm afraid to go back to sleep. I just know that I'll end up singing Rhinestone Cowboy.
I'm pretty much spent tonight. Go have some fun in Ith's comments.
In case you haven't noticed, there's a lot of nasty stuff flying around the blogosphere these days - especially in this corner of the blog world, where the topics tend to be about war and government and current events.
Just as in the space outside of our computers there is a great divide amongst people right now, that same divide is ripping through blogdom. At first it was a small divide that stayed within the circle of news bloggers. But now, as war is imminent and tensions are running high, the blogosphere has proved yet again to be a microcosm of the world at large. People who never wrote about war or protests are suddenly entering the fray. It's on everyone's minds. There's a lot to be said.
The problem is, it's not getting said in the right matter. It starts out as debate and ends up full of hate, name-calling and vitriol. There's the I'm right, you're wrong sentiment from both sides of the camp leads to nothing but shouting matches where no one ends up being fully heard.
So what's a blogger to do? How do you get both sides to answer questions, listen to each other and debate in a mature and informative manner?
That's where N.Z. Bear comes in.
The schedule for the debate, which starts February 9, can be found here.
You can leave questions and comments on questions at each blog.
The real debate runs from Monday 2/10 - Sunday 2/16: Any blogger who is interested in participating in the debate can do so by simply answering the questions appropriate to his or her position on their own weblog.
If I haven't explained it fully, please go to either weblog and read the posts there. This should prove to be very interesting and hopefully, it will make discussion between two sides of a very potent issue engage in some real conversation and debate.
This strep throat is not only killing my energy, it's killed my brain power. I started to write news-related posts four times today and deleted them all. I think I'll just stick to linking to other blogs for the rest of the afternoon.
Oh, there's this first.
I've been thinking about spiffing this place up a bit. I've seen some sites that have nifty little smiley faces and other assorted icons built into their comments and I go back and forth between wanting them and not wanting them.
I like to think of this site as yours as well as mine. Just one big old democracy in action. So I made a poll to determine whether I should put the code in or not.
Armed Liberal has a list of emergency supplies he keeps on hand (in his home and car) just in case. It's a good list, filled with necessary medical supplies to keep one healthy should emergency care not be readily available.
I have an emergency kit in my car. It's a baseball bag filled with items that might come in handy should war break out while I'm on the Expressway or if we should get stuck in a ditch somewhere remote and have to wait a while for help.
As you can see, we are prepared for every possibility.
One package Spiderman band-aids
One bottle Excedrin Migraine
An Ace Bandage (to wrap around head, pretending to be a mummy in the hopes of scaring off the evil monsters that creeped out of the sewer system)
One jar vaseline (this is good to rub on the ground so the one-wheeled aliens slip and slide as they try to catch up to you)
One bottle liquid Children's Tylenol, expired last August
Two tongue depressors (I guess so I can look into my kids' mouths and say 'yup, you got a nasty throat infection. Here, have some expired Tylenol)
One eyeglass screwdriver
One butter knife (butter knives are good for almost anything. If all else fails, we can at least use it to slice off limbs when we start dining on each other when all the rescue missions to find us fail)
One half roll of blue duct tape (for tying up intruders who want to take our well-stocked medicine bag)
One CD Walkman stocked with a Stabbing Westward cd (to drown out the screams of people being hit with alien laser beams)
Other Completely Necessary Items
One copy of Fun With Milk and Cheese (it's good to laugh when armageddon is upon you)
One bottle of Poland Springs water (to kill the aliens, of course)
One box of most likely stale Marlboro Menthol Lights
One cigarette lighter (this would be good if any of those monsters-afraid-of-fire are attacking)
One Game Boy stocked with Pokemon Gold
A collection of crossword puzzles from New York magazine
One blue sharpie (for drawing mustaches on zombies after we kill them)
One hockey stick
One baseball bat
One Eye-Popping SpongeBob (to scare away the giant rats that are about to eat us alive)
So we are prepared for zombies, aliens, headaches, giant creatures, most species of monsters, cannibalism and nuclear war.
And it all fits so nicely into my evil SUV.
(link via the emperor)
I've been looking over everything I've written for this weblog in the past two years and I see that everything before September 11, 2001 was just shit - save for the journal entries. It was if the floodgates opened after that date and the hiatus I had taken from writing every single day was over; the words poured out of me at an astonishing rate.
I've said it before and I'll say it forever; it was having this weblog that saved me from having a complete and total breakdown in the days and weeks after 9/11.
I don't even know if anyone is interested in reading entries from the past. I know I am, because this weblog allows me to see not only how much I've changed and grown over the past two years, but the slow transformation of my inner self - how I finally got to be in the place I am today, a place I love.
This is why I've kept this up for two years. It's become so much a part of me and has helped me discover myself and heal myself. I can look back and see my breaking points as well as the points where I started to put myself back together.
It's no coincidence that I was able to let my guard down and finally open myself up to others when I started this blog. I've alway kept to myself. I was distant, a bit hard to read and not very open. It was when I started writing daily and opened up that writing to feedback that the wall around me started to crumble.
Why do I blog? I blog because I need to, I need that release. And I blog because doing so has given me the gifts of real friendship and honest relationships.
This following post is from September 17, 2001:
The rise and fall of my emotions...
I'm trying. I am trying to get back in the swing of things, live a normal life, get back to a routine, all those things the nice newscasters have been telling me I must do. But I can't. I simply cannot. Sure, I am fine in fits and starts. I smile, I may laugh at your joke, I may sing along with a cd. And I may cry. I may get angry. I may get depressed and sad and mournful. I may be fearful and paranoid. I may have this adrenaline coarsing through my body that makes me want to take a swing at the Taco Bell worker who forgot the cheese in my burrito. It's hard to breathe sometimes. I am suffocating in my own grief.
I try to escape into my work. It's ok for a bit. And then I overwrite a 3 page decision with a phone list. I stare vacantly at my computer, not really seeing anything. I'm not here. I try to escape by going shopping during lunch and its ok for a bit. I buy some snacks for the kids and some candy to keep in my desk at work and there's the shampoo I like on sale. I laugh with my sister. And then leave the store and a plane flies overhead and I remember. And I'm not ok.
I try to escape by talking to people. But a lot of these people have been there. They tell me things I don't want to hear. They tell me what's not seen on tv, what they are finding and how they find it and what's really underneath all that steel and concrete. Things I don't want to know. But they cry when they tell me and I can't ask them to stop because they need to talk. And I think about these things the rest of the day and I know I will lose sleep and I wonder how in the world these rescuers - the firemen, the policemen, the construction workers and steel workers - will ever sleep well again. I am not ok.
I try to escape by going home and seeing my family. And it's ok for a bit. We go over homework and talk about school and Natalie tells about her crush on Jason and we giggle a bit and my mom calls and asks if the kids want to sleep there tonight. So we go there and I see my father, and I see by his eyes that he finally broke down and he had been crying a good long time and I am not ok.
I try to escape by reading, by playing a game, by sitting on the couch with Justin and watching a movie. And it's ok for a bit. And then I remember. And my stomach tightens and my throat constricts and my eyes well up and god damn it I am not ok. I see people getting on with their lives. I wonder what's going through their heads, if those smiles are only temporary and when they go home the smile is replaced by looks of sadness or fear or worry. I wonder why I can't get over it like other people have. I wonder why I can't smile without feeling guilty. I wonder if this lead feeling in the pit of my stomach will every go away. I wonder if I will stop crying every hour or so.
I try to escape by coming here and writing and maybe getting back to the way it was here before last Tuesday. I can't. I can't cope. I can't move on. I am not ok.
By definition, a warmonger is "One who advocates or attempts to stir up war."
I don't advocate war as much as I advocate solutions to problems. War happens to be the solution this time around.
But thanks for the comment (now deleted) all the same. And thanks for the link, but I'll take a pass on sticking it in this post.
It's nice to know you care, though. I thank you for worrying about my mental health, and about the mental health of thousands and thousands of others who are accepting what our president is telling us. I'm just fine, thank you.
Your IP has been banned. Tell your friends I said hi. They should drop over for a cup of tea some time. We can discuss war, war and....war! Because that's all I know how to talk about, right? That's all us warbloggers ever talk about. Yadda yadda yadda, I know...so boring, so trite, so like big scary monsters lurking in your closets. We are evil and satanic and will rot in hell and....oh, just a question. Why are you still here? Shoo, go.
I'm alright. Really.
We're all alright.
We just seem a little weird.
Tomorrow after school I'm taking my kids over to the Cradle of Aviation Museum.
We've been there numerous times. Because my father is on the board and took part in the planning process, we have been able to see the museum build up from just a hollow structure to what it is now. We watched as the workers carefully restored pieces of old airplanes, fighter jets and lunar modules. The museum opened last year and Long Island is lucky to have such a place of culture and history in its midst.
This time we'll pay special attention to the space travel exhibit. We'll look at the Rockwell Command Module 002, the Grumman Lunar Module LM-13 and the Grumman Lunar Module Simulator, "one of the few key pieces remaining from the Apollo program."
I want my kids to have a connection to what happened this weekend, so they understand the importance of what those seven crew members were doing. I want them to know not only the history of space exploration, but the future of it as well.
If you live in the New York/Long Island area, it would be well worth your time take a ride over to the Cradle of Aviation Museum.
(this has not been a paid announcement, no matter how much it sounds like it)
The two year anniversary celebration continues with yet another contest. If this one happens to gross you out at any point, just remember - It's all Lair's idea.
Gross and Grosser: the rules
Head to your fridge and dig around a bit. You just know there is something in there that is unidentifiable. Maybe it's jiggly, maybe it's moldy, maybe it smells like a dirty nursing home. Perhaps it's even one of those two week old leftovers that will go straight into the garbage, container and all.
I've thrown out my share of perfectly good tupperware ruined by the stench of rotted food. Don't be ashamed.
Now, take a picture of the item. Yea, you have to open the lid for this, I'm afraid. Actually, some of the best rotted, putrid items are those that don't even go in containers. Have you seen what a lime looks like after a month or so?
Now, write a little story about your gross food item. Tell us what it is, if you know, when you made it and why it's still sitting in your fridge soaking up all the good aroma from the box of baking soda. If you don't know, make something up. I know at least one of you has eye of newt or head of Jimmy Hoffa sitting in your crisper drawer.
You can either send the picture or post it on your own blog and put the link in the comments here.
For those without handy access to cameras and/or scanners, do your best. Describe, draw - I'll even accept a Microsoft paint rendition of your moldy yogurt. Be creative.
Contest will run until tomorrow evening.
Get over to your fridge and start sniffing!
Laurence and I should not be allowed to collaborate on things. Nothing good will ever come from it.
update: I forgot to mention, though it may be obvious. The GROSSEST food type thing wins.
I know I said I didn't feel like going to the doctor, but this is different.
I'm sitting at work with a high fever, a hacking cough and no desire to go to the doctor even though I'm sure I caught Natalie's strep. I am not in a very good mood. Today is not the day to piss me off.
Hence, this memo:
To: whom it may concern (and I think you know who you all are)
Please stop hijacking my posts. When I make an entry that is obviously there for humorous effect, don't act like a useless turd and turn the comments into yet another political cat fight.
If you have your own blog, take it there.
If you don't get one or shut up.
If you feel this pertains to you, I have this message for you: get a fucking sense of humor already. Laugh once in a while. You should try it, it feels good.
Now stop turning everything I say into a squabble or I'll be forced to eat your pets for dinner while you watch.
P.S. Laurence and I have something up our sleeves, contest wise. Look for it tonight.
You people are wicked, evil and pretty damn funny. I've gotten so many good lines for the tagline contest that I'll probably just use them all, one at a time. I've decided to put them on the header tagline rather than on the browser because your humor deserves to be noticeable.
I started with one of Kevin's.
Maybe my theme song should be Dueling Banjos?
Slate has a nice collection of editorial cartoons about the Columbia.
This was my favorite - it also made me cry.
How many kids dream of some day taking a trip into space? At some point or other, almost every kid has said they wanted to be an astronaut.
It's another sad moment not only for us, but for our children. Another day we have to explain death and heroes to them. Another day they see us cry.
I've been reading around and I see plenty of people pointing to the seven high school kids who died in an avalanche this weekend; they point to train wrecks and car crashes and death in high numbers due to famine or cold.
I understand that grief comes in large numbers. It's the way of nature that so many people die each day. But not all of us die doing what we loved. Not all of us die as heroes to some, as explorers reaching places that we only dare to dream about.
The crew of the Columbia died while working for our future. That does not make their lives any more or less important than a an unkown man who was hit by a car last night or a an young woman in another country who died in a train derailment.
But the astronauts were public people. The greatest moment of their lives, and the lost moment of their lives were both played out on television. We knew their names, we knew who they were. That's what makes their deaths more immediate to us than that of someone thousands of miles away, whose face we have never seen.
Just as no life should go unrecognized, no death should go unrecognized either. We do what we can to mourn the loss of friends and family and distant people whose plights we read about in the paper.
When so many are recognizing death at once, it makes it bigger. We become a collective sigh, a tear on the face of the earth.
To mourn the seven crew members as if we knew them is to say that we did. We did know them, for they were our future.
The most underreported story of the week has to be the tale of one of Saddam's bodyguards fleeing Iraq and running to Israeli authorities with the dictator's closely held secrets.
I've only been able to find the story on a few blogs, and fewer online media outlets. I linked to this one because it has that nice, soothing picture of Saddam out of for liesurely swim.
The bodygaurd, Abu Hamdi Mahmoud, told Israel intelligence the following secrets:
There is an underground chemical weapons facility at the southern end of the Jadray Peninsula in Baghdad; A SCUD assembly area near Ramadi, complete with missiles come from North Korea and two underground bunkers in Iraq's Western desert that contain biological weapons.
Mahmoud, who was known as "The Gatekeeper" in Saddam's inner circle, was one of those Saddam look-alikes he keeps near him at all times.
It will be interesting to see what comes of this. He could be a decoy for some underhanded plan Saddam is scheming; he could be an outright liar looking for asylum or it could very well be the truth. I'm skeptical only because if this is the smoking gun everyone's been looking for, the White House is sure keeping quiet about it.
I'll hold my tongue until more comes of this. I was really just looking for a reason to post a bathing beauty picture of Saddam.
Nero fiddled while Rome burned, you know.
Ok, you can all go home now. No need for war. Saddam has done a tell-all interview and now we can be sure the truth will be known.
Tony Benn met Saddam Hussein in Baghdad yesterday in an attempt to avert war in the Gulf.
During an interview filmed by an Iraqi crew, the former Labour MP and veteran peace activist said he asked President Saddam whether Iraq possessed any weapons of mass destruction. He said he also asked him whether Iraq had links to the al-Qa'ida terrorist network. Iraq has repeatedly denied both accusations
The interview will be broadcast on television this week, but my network of underground spies has already obtained a copy of the transcript:
As Benn enters the room, Saddam looks surprised. Benn is accompanied by Jacques Chirac and Gerhard Schroeder, who have vowed to finally get the truth out of Saddam .
Benn: NOBODY expects the EU Inquisition!
They sit down to begin the interview
Benn:You are hereby charged that you did have weapons of mass destruction and connections to al-Qa'ida. Now, how do you plead?
Saddam: I'm innocent.
Chirac:Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Schroeder: We'll soon change your mind about that!
Benn: Now, old man - you are accused of terrorism on three counts - heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action - four counts. Do you confess?
Saddam: I don't understand what I'm accused of.
Chirac: Ha! Then we shall make you understand! Biggles! Fetch...THE SOFT CUSHIONS!
(Schroeder holds out two ordinary modern household cushions)
Schroeder: Here they are, Chirac.
Benn: Now, old man- you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of building nuclear weapons, reject al-Qaida- two last chances. And you shall be free - three last chances. You have three last chances.
Saddam: I don't know what you're talking about.
Benn :Right! If that's the way you want it - Chirac! Poke him with the soft cushions!
Chirac: Confess! Confess! Confess!
Schroder: It doesn't seem to be hurting him.
Benn: Have you got all the stuffing up one end?
Chirac: Yes, lord.
Benn:Hm! He is made of harder stuff! Fetch...THE COMFY CHAIR!
Schroeder:(terrified) The...Comfy Chair?
(Chirac pushes in a really plush comfy chair)
Benn: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Chirac! Put him in the Comfy Chair!
(They roughly push him into the Comfy Chair)
Benn: Now - you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven.
Eventually, the lobbing of the soft questions gets to Saddam and he breaks down and confesses that yes, he had a weapon once but he got rid of it. It was a BB gun that he gave his son Uday for his tenth birthday, but they threw it in the river when Uday embraced peace as a way of life.
When asked why he did the interview, Benn replied, "We hear President Bush and Tony Blair every day but we don't hear from Saddam Hussein."
He then added, "Now that you have heard Saddam speak -and you cannot say we did not try to force the answers from him - you know the truth. He is truly a man of peace. I feel bad that we even tortured him like that."
If you ever want to know what people really think of you, just ask them to come up with taglines for your blog. Some of you people scare me.
Before I get into the news of the day, I do have another mission for you today - as I will every day for the rest of the week.
This one has an actual prize. Remember those cover songs you all listed for me last week? I've downloaded a whole bunch of them and I'll burn a set for a CD mix and give one out as a prize.
Ok, so today's blogaversary play-along game is Theme Song.
I need a good theme song, one that I can leave up on the sidebar for anyone to download. I mean an actual song that already exists. Please, for the love of my sanity, do not go making songs up.
As with the tagline, just try to find something that defines this blog in musical terms. No Celine Dion, please. I'd have to kill you.
Yes, I promised a contest tonight.
Just a little one, though. I'm saving the good stuff. And it's not really a contest by strict meaning because there's no prize except the notoriety that comes with winning. Yea. That's it.
See that tagline up there? No, not that one - the one that appears in your browser. It says "the gentle art of making enemies."
I need a new tagline. One that says me. One that explains who I am, what I like, what I don't like or what I'm made of all in just a few succint words.
Be bold, be daring, be crude if you dare. Trolls welcome, as always, but I am not going to use "ignorant slut" as my tagline. That's so 1970's.
Continuing with the blogaversary party, I'll be reposting various things I've written over the past two years that mean something to me or explain in part why I blog. This one is from September 5, 2002.
Three Years Later: Moving Forward
The thing I remember most about the early part of that day is the weather. It was a perfect day; the sky was a deep, cloudless blue and the air was filled with the comforting warmth that comes when summer starts slinking into autumn.
What I remember most about the moments after the news broke was my drive home from work. I fled my federal office building in a panic that day, still not sure if more attacks were coming, if they were happening elsewhere, if the world was ending. I drove east, towards my home, but kept looking back in my rear view mirror at the brown, smoky haze filling the sky. My hands were shaking and tears were streaming down my face and I was frightened, so frightened, because we didn't know. We did not know what would come next, or if that was the end. I looked at every car that drove next to me, at every other driver at the stop lights. They were all crying or wide-eyed or clutching their steering wheel so hard I could see their knuckles turning white.
When I got home, I woke Justin, who was still sleeping after spending all night working on a project. In my fear and disbelief, I blurted out something like, wake up the world is ending, and we turned on the television and stared for hours and I just remember this numbness going through me, the goosebumps of fear and horror that rose on my arms. Justin's mother called from Pennsylvania. It was her birthday. We talked to her for a while, assured her we were ok and then she told us to stock up on toilet paper. There was no point in wishing her a happy birthday.
What I remember most about the subsequent days is the sky and the silence. The roar of planes is a constant soundtrack when you live so close to an airport. But for those days, four of them I believe, there was not a sound coming from the skies. The silence was so huge, so cavernous, and the only thing you could see when you looked up to the sky was thin wisps of smoke rising from the west. Those days seemed like they were lived out in a dream world.
What I remember most about the nights are the candles. On the sidewalks and curbs, on stoops and porches and stairs and driveways, lined up like soldiers of flame. It was beautiful and sad, so very sad and I wondered how far a line of candles would stretch if we lit one for every victim, and the family members of every victim.
I remember these things because I never forget anything. I have never forgotten the night when my family stood out on the porch, flipping the porch light on and off in some odd celebration when the Vietnam War ended. I can remember what Natalie was wearing the day the Gulf War started - the day she took her first steps. I remember air raid drills in grammar school, questioning the futility of holding your head between your legs as bombs were going off and thinking that if it ever did come down to that, I was just going to run for it, out the front door of the school, up the slope, across the street and down the block all the way home where I would hold my mother tight and she wouldn't make me spend my last moments crouched in a hallway.
I keep every memory locked away, not just the big parts of the memories, but the little things too; the way the air felt, the way the sky looked, the smells and sounds that shared the moment with me. I write it all down, every last detail and I never forget anything.
What I remember about the first few nights after that day was hugging my children a little too tight, a little too often. I remember clinging to Justin and walking across the street to my parents' house every few minutes and just sitting there with them, not saying anything, just staring at the tv and crying. I remember feeling like one big walking cliche when I told everyone how thankful I was to have them in my life.
What I remember most about the next month is thinking how much this space meant to me at that time. How the people who read this weblog embraced me in my sadness and fear, how my words came to mean something to various people, how I had a place to get it all down, every last detail, every last sigh and tear, and how important it became to share. One year later, I still have that need, it is still important to me, and I will still continue to record every memory so that some day, I will remember everything; not just the funerals and memorial services and falling bodies and crumbling cement and steel, but the candles and the voices lifted in song and any glimpses of hope and love that lay among the rubble of the day.
Don't forget this week I'll be celebrating my two year blog anniversary with lots of fun and whatever else comes our way.
I've been looking through the archives that still exist and guess what? One year ago today, I was bitchy, antagonistic and rude. The more things change, eh?
I did manage to find some of my archives dating back to February, 2001 thanks to the Wayback Machine.
Here's my entry from 2/27/01:
ebruary 27, 2001 Corporate Bullshit Read this article at slashdot so you can see for yourself what bullshit the RIAA is throwing at the public. I've been talking about this for a long time about how record sales are actually up, not down. The slashdot research proves it. Read this AP article and then go back and look over the slashdot piece again. Propaganda, anyone? Honestly, I don't really care if millionares are losing a couple of cents each time someone downloads one of their songs. Do you have any idea how many shitty cds I have purchased in my lifetime? (insert Re-Load joke here). I don't see anyone suing the RIAA or Metallica on my behalf because I spent money on something that is now a beer coaster. If you are going to penalize people for wanting to hear songs before they buy them, then penalize the bands for making the shitty music that forces me to pre-listen to what I am going to be throwing down $14.99 for.
I am not going to divulge the rest of it and most of you don't even know the cheesy tripod address of my original blog, so don't bother looking. I'll present you with the embarassing beginnings of my blog when I'm ready!
Right now we are headed over to my parents house for a belated dinner/dessert celebration of DJ's birthday. When I get back I will begin the contest-based portion of my anniversary celebrations.
Star Wars is on WB. I don't know what it is, but even though I own twenty-nine different versions of this movie, I still get a kid-like thrill when it's on tv.
The older I get, the cheesier Star Wars gets, but I think that's part of the attraction. But the other moments, the good ones, remind me why I watch this movie again and again, why I know every single line and nuance by heart, why -even though I hate George Lucas - I still silently thank him for making Star Wars.
One of the reasons I cna't stand Lucas is what he did with my favorite moment from the film when he re-edited the movie.
Greedo. Han Solo. Best scene ever.
Han Solo walks out after shooting Greedo and says "Sorry 'bout the mess." Always has and always will be my favorite line and why, when I watch the movie on tape, I watch the original version.
Lucas made Greedo shoot first. That added in scene totally changes the way Harrison Ford's line comes across.
Damn you, George Lucuas. Damn you for that and damn you for the ewoks and damn you for not letting it rest after Jedi.
There's a reason I'm number one on Google for George Lucas is a fuckwad.
Luke was a whiny bitch, too.
I guess I just have a thing for bad guys. You really don't want to hear about my Boba Fett fetish, do you?
I totally forgot that today is Groundhog Day.
To recap for those who didn't stare at their tv this morning to see a furry little beast climb out of its hole while thousands of freezing cold gawkers stood by, Phil says it's gonna be cold for a while.
You don't say? I mean, it is February and generally, I expect cold weather in February. March, too for the most part.
All this hoopla surrounding one ugly little creature is a clear case of much ado about the wrong thing.
In case you didn't know, Phil does not come out of hiding to forecast the temperature for the next six weeks. No, he's looking for babes! He wants some hot, furry tailed loving. So he comes out of his little hole hoping to get some action and all he sees are a bunch of women, children, and men dressed in top hats staring him down like he's the second coming of Christ.
And then he chirps: Ehteht sheeah grunt chitter!!
Everyone thinks he's yelling "Six more weeks of winter, kids! Happy sledding!" When, in reality (thanks to the groundhog translator for helping me out) he is saying:
Where my bitches at?!?
Phil is a playa and he wants some action. I imagine if a female groundhog happened to be nearby at one of these February tourist events, a whole bunch of kiddies would get a quick lesson in animal husbandry.
Now think about this. Every year, Phil comes out to scout the action, hook up with a chick and make plans to get laid in March. And every year, he's forced to entertain troops of groundhog fans instead of getting on with business.
I wonder if Phil has ever gotten any? I mean, by the time the festivities are over I bet all the other groundhog guys have gotten to the pick of the chicks and the only thing left is some beady-eyed prude who is holding out for marriage.
I think we should start a new movement. The Let Phil Get Laid movement.
I should probably start laying of the Robitussin as well.
I've said a few times that the extreme on either side of an issue is a bad thing. Here's proof that right wing exteremists are just as vitriolic, nasty and senseless as those on the far left.
I'm not posting this just to gratuitously show you a hate site. I link it to show that yes, there are idiots and hateful bastards on either side of the coin, and I am not afraid to point them both out.
When the left cries out about the right (or even center) politicizing the Columbia tragedy, I have to offer a slight sneer.
Over at warblogger watch, Philip Shropshire totally miscontrues Glenn Reynold's post about the Iraqi people getting a bit of joy out of this.
Note to Philip: I don't think Glenn ever said he expected the Iraqis to mourn for the seven people lost on Columbia, or to be sad for the United States in general.
The one Iraqi government employee who claimed the shuttle explosion was an act of god wasn't so much saying he hates us, as he was saying that god - their god in this instance, known as Allah - exacted this revenge upon the Americans because we are evil, horrible people. This Allah must be a strange and powerful god to want to take out a space shuttle mission because of American arrogance and its impending war on Iraq, but does nothing about Saddam, who kills and tortures his own people. I have to give very little credence to anyone who jumps to the defense of people who would, as soon as the power to do it was available, blow us into smithereens.
Long before Glenn posted that link, the Columbia tragedy had already become politicized at Indymedia and Democratic Underground.
I just question why someone bothers to take a one sentence post of Glenn's (when he wasn't even the only "warblogger" who posted the link) and call him out on it, when the lefties are doing the exact same thing. I wonder if Philip checked out Atrios's comments?
Just wondering why it doesn't work both ways. I don't see any posts on warblogger watch chastising the lefty bloggers for making a political show out of this.
National tragedies used to bring us together. We would mourn, grieve and watch the news as if we were holding hands with the entire world.
Things have changed since September 11, 2001. While that event did bring the world together in shock, grief and outrage, it didn't last very long.
The post 9/11 world has become polarized. At some point after the first images of the burning World Trade Center became faded and then replaced by other events, we reached that proverbial fork in the road. And while some went one way and some went another, the result was the same. Our landscape had become politicized and divided.
From Flight 93 to the Columbia tragedy today, every large-scale news item has ripped the divide into a deeper chasm.
It started with people wanting to blame America itself for September 11. They blamed the arrogance of American people, the way we walk with our heads held too high or our wallets packed too full.
Everything became a conspiracy, everyone had a hidden agenda. Lies are told, rumors are started and what starts as insidious thoughts become grand-scale inquiries.
We barely have time to sit back and wipe our tears or sink into momentary shock before the first arrows are slung.
Today I hear the call of the wild-eyed. The blame, the sheer joy expressed at the fate of innocents, the name calling and twisted stabs to the heart.
I hear the mantra of isolationism, of how we have no right to be so heartbroken over seven people when there are starving children in other parts of the world. I hear the cries of the wretched, placing blame where it doesn't belong, using a sad moment in time as an excuse to throw their hatred at you.
They speak these things with bitter hearts and dark souls. They have crawled out of the darkness after every disaster, every plane crash, every heartbreaking moment in history.
In the past 16 months, their voices have become louder and their stories have become larger and more incredible. They have gathered in every corner of the world; in Canada and France, in Australia and Arab nations and here in America.
They take every public moment of despair as their own and twist it and turn it until it is unrecognizable. They do not wipe your tears - they laugh at them. They do not offer you comfort - they offer you cold hands that want to choke the compassion from you.
We stand divided at such a time when we need to be united. We look at each other from across the canyon that separates us and we know there is no way to build a bridge. That chance is long gone, taken from us when we were at our darkest, when we needed to build on hope and strength from each other and only found mistrust and cold stares.
And now here we are, at another crossroads when we should come together and give each other hope for the future and condolences for today.
Instead, we find hateful words and seething anger. We find mockery and trivialization and for the life of me I cannot understand how people can be this way, how people cannot accept a terribly sad moment for what it is and put their pettiness and ill will aside to recognize that.
We are politicized at every angle. We are torn apart by fear. We are a nation divided and not even tragedy, which was once that great equalizer, can bring us back together.
ed. note: as with all things, this works both ways. One particular group does not hold the patent on idiocy and divisiveness.
usr/bin/geek has put up biographies of each astronaut.
Tainted Bill reports that the profiteering has begun and people are selling shuttle memorabilia on eBay. I heard on the news that several people tried to sell debris until eBay shut those auctions down.
Speaking of profiteering, a reader sent the news that someone registered columbiadisaster.com - this morning. Who thinks of things in the midst of such a tragedy?
I have a rather lengthy essay prepared on the subject of disasters and death, but I'm waiting on it.
Meanwhile, this post of mine this morning, before today's tragedy took place, is clearly being misunderstood by some readers. Please look up the word hypothetical, thank you. Eh, I'll get to this later, too.
"God wants to show that his might is greater than the Americans. They have encroached on our country. God is avenging us," [a government employee] said.
Hopefully, this mouthpiece for Saddam will feel the full weight of America's might in a few weeks time.
And Damian has already found the Zionist them running amok.
More scientific explanations at Samizdata
Jack adds a personal note to the tragedy - heartbreaking post.
Glenn has an ongoing collection of news and links.
It didn't take long for the cretins to crawl out from under their rocks. I don't know why I went looking for them - I guess I just smelled the stink and had to see what it was.
What's bush up to?
I am not afraid to say this -
I guess bush's SOTU speech went over so poorly, he needed a disaster to distract us from his horrible actions and lies.
I am getting sick of this bull. How many more Americans must die for bush to look legit? How often will he need to kill to keep up his legitimacy?
How convenient that the first Israeli citizen was on the shuttle, too. Everybody rally behind Sharon and don't question or speak against him, either.
arwalden (5997 posts) Feb-01-03, 10:19 AM (ET) Shuttle Tragedy: How Fortunate For Bush Now he can get on camera with a tearful and heartfelt message about how they were brave heroes who "touched the face of god" (or some other Reaganesque drivel written for him) and lo-and-behold... ALL AMERICA WILL ADORE BUSH AGAIN. How fortunate that he gets to rally America for yet another tragedy that occured under his watch.
He'll get to play the comforting and wise father-figure. (I think I'm going to be sick!)
It ruly believe these people have no souls.
CNN is reporting that NASA lost contact with the space shuttle Columbia, right before it was supposed to land.
More as it happens.
update: FOX News is showing video of the shuttle breaking up.
NASA is asking that people in the Dallas area be on the lookout for debris.
1429 GMT (9:29 a.m. EST)
Search and rescue forces are now being deployed, NASA says.
I hope it really is a rescue mission.
Apparently it will not be a rescue mission at all. There's no point in updating this constantly, as everyone is probably watching tv. But I will post the poem that Dean just sent me and leave it at that.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of- wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never Lark, or even Eagle flew -
And while with silent lifting mind, I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
- John Gillespie Magee, Jr, 1922-1944
Let's go back in time. Just a short trip, say June or July of 2001, before most people knew who bin Laden was, before there was a gaping hole in the ground in New York City.
Now suppose - and remember, this all hypothetical - but suppose President Bush suddenly announces he has come across reliable information that Afghanistan has become one big terrorist meeting place and that those terrorists are more than likely planning on using whatever weapons and intelligence they have acquired to attack the United States.
Suppose even further that stories of how the Taliban were oppressing the people of Afghanistan were made more public, that our president stood up on a podium and denounced all the atrocities that women and children are facing in Afghanistan.
And then suppose that on the basis of the intelligence the White House has gathered, the United States would be sending troops to Afghanistan where they would invade, conquer and take over the country in an effort to prevent future terrorist attacks on the U.S. and and other regions.
We would go to war. We would protect our freedoms, protect our safety and free the people of Afghanistan from a tyrannical regime.
Would you have opposed this war? Would you have stood in the streets of major cities, decrying the president's efforts to keep our country safe? Would you have yelled out slogans equating Bush to Hitler? Would you have questioned the truth of the reports of future attacks on U.S. soil?
Let's keep going with our imaginations here and say that this is what really happened. That the president outlined the intelligence reports that say forces are gathering in Afghanistan; dark forces that want to rid the world of American heathens and evil capitalism. Bush outlines the atrocities that are taking place upon the people of that country.
But still, you don't believe him. He is just trying to make another notch in his Empire belt, you say.
You march. You chant. You organize convoys of human shields to go to Afghanistan.
Finally, the president relents due to pressure from the anti-war front. He agrees to seek some kind of peaceful solution, to appease the crazed warriors that seek to do damage to us. He calls upon the U.N. to help him come to a decision. They decide to do a study, to send people over there and check it out. They'll get back to Bush in a few months with their answer.
You are thrilled. The anti-war front has been heard. Your voices have been raised as one and you have been listened to. Victory at last. Peace is always the answer, right?
And then on a beautiful fall morning, you are walking to your A.N.S.W.E.R. meeting in NYC when suddenly the sky seems to implode. You look up and see one of the towers of the World Trade Center burst into flames, an explosion causing a shower of glass and paper and smoke and body parts to rain down on you.
Later, after you have gone home and washed the pieces of charred skin from your body, you listen to the news. New York. D.C. Pennsylvania. Thousands dead.
And then you hear the words Afghanistan and terrorism and Taliban.
How would you feel knowing that you played a part in making the president back off these terrorists? How would you feel knowing that your marches and your signs were part of the overall picture that caused the U.S. to wait it out; that your voice drowned out all the other voices that were shouting to go to war, to take these bastards out before they kill us?
If you don't think that could happen, substituting Iraq for Afghanistan, then the only thing that will bring you out of your stupor is reality. Unfortunately, when reality hits you it is too late in a case like this.
You, like the hypothetical young man above, will be cowering in a corner somewhere while fire falls from the sky or sarin works its way through your body. You will wonder why appeasement didn't work, why peaceful dialogue and human shields didn't make our enemy back down.
Foresight is an interesting thing. We have no way of knowing what would have happened. We only know what didn't happen.
Which is much better than hindsight, when you are clutching your children and praying for a peaceful death and you know that you should have believed.
How would you feel if your anti-war, anti-Bush, anti-everything crusade actually worked and we backed down? How would you feel as you and your family lay there dying knowing that Saddam has on his face a wry little smile as we succumb to his terror?
photos via BBC