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April 30, 2004

71: Pistols at Dawn

s2517.jpgLots of favorite episodes questions (though I think most of them came in one email). We'll start with this one though, rightfully, the correct answer is: almost all of them. These were the first three that came to mind. 71. Three favorite Simpsons episodes Radioactive Man: My eyes! The goggles do nothing! Tomacco [E-I-E-I-Doh!] Aw Daddy! This tastes like Grandma! Contains the B-52's song Glove Slap, which I've graciously provided for you. Homer the Heretic Kids, let me tell you about another so-called wicked guy. He had long hair and some wild ideas. He didn't always do what other people thought was right. And that man's name was... I forget. But the point is... I forget that, too. Marge, you know what I'm talking about. He used to drive that blue car? You know, I could do this all night. Unless you want to take over. -------- Note: this post is part of what was the Spirit of America Ask a Blogger challenge, a challenge in which I am woefully behind. All the previous questions are in one happy place.

66-70: Oh my god, she's talking about s-e-x!

66. What's your favorite sexual position? Yea, like I didn't see that one coming. It's position number 27 from the book A Contortionist's Guide to the G-Spot. If you try it, make sure you use diagram B and keep it right side up. Anything else and you'll find yourself in the hospital with a lot of explaining to do. 67. Have you ever sexual relations with a woman and, if so, please describe. Looking for a little masturbatory material? Try here, bud (NSFW). It's free. 68. Who gave you the best orgasm you ever had? Grohe 69. What kind of music do you like to have sex to? I don't. I prefer that we provide the soundtrack. However, if I just had to have a song playing, it would be Rammstein's version of Depeche Mode's Stripped. 70. If you had the chance to give Yassir Arafat an STD, which STD would it be? Dude. Do you mean that I would have to give it to him personally? Even if I had an STD to give him, you just could not make me touch him. This conjures up all kinds of thoughts, the most prominent thought being one of vomiting continously until the image of Arafat naked in the same room as me is purged from my existence. Worst. Question. Ever. -------- Note: this post is part of what was the Spirit of America Ask a Blogger challenge, a challenge in which I am woefully behind. All the previous questions are in one happy place.

65: dollars for my forced thoughts

I'm throwing this in here as a question even though someone (make that three people) asked me this only today - this is a paraphrasing of all their emails: 65. How come you aren't outraged about the soldiers who were caught torturing Iraqi prisoners? When are you going to make your post blowing it off and calling it a part of war and then throw some moral crap out there about how we built hospitals? Just because I didn't write about it does not mean I am not outraged. Next time I'll try to be quick with informing you about my opinion on every single news item, from war to Jayson Williams. What those soldiers did is not a part of war, it is not to be expected. It is, however, expected that the people who committed these acts will be punished to the full extent possible. That good enough for you? Now that you consider yourself my boss, I expect a paycheck. Thank you. -------- Note: this post is part of what was the Spirit of America Ask a Blogger challenge, a challenge in which I am woefully behind. All the previous questions are in one happy place. WE BUILT HOSPITALS!!! Yea, couldn't resist.

fragrant like hormel's chili

The last word on Rene Gonzales. Or is that the last laugh? 'Cause I am laughing.

Second meme of the day, counts as 64

64. Yay, someone posed this as a question so I get to join in and count it. I would have preferred to do this one at home, but oh well. Via Tim Blair (I missed this one the first time around): bq. GRAB THAT BOOK Via half the Internet, itís the latest crazy random words game: 1. Grab the nearest book. 2. Open the book to page 23. 3. Find the fifth sentence. 4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions. A defendant who is properly informed of his appellate rights may not let the matter rest and then claim he did not waive the right to appeal. New York State Reports, Court of Appeals, v. 100 (2003). Riveting, I know.

meme of the day: check it out, i'm like a buzzbomb

Following Treacher: bq. 1. Grab the nearest CD. 2. Put it in your CD-Player (or start your mp3-player, I-tunes, etc.). 3. Skip to Song 3 (or load the 3rd song in your 3rd playlist) 4. Post the first verse in your journal along with these instructions. Donít name the band, nor the album-title. If you thought it was boring in Jordan Then come out here for a day And by the way, the name is Marcus But if you like, you can call me Sensei Well the emperor is in the pig sty And the geisha is in the shack And you better believe I'll hold them there Till the feds, they pay me back If anyone knows that without Googling, you will have my utmost musical respect, whatever that's worth to you. [Go back to Treacher and work your way back from his links, and also click on the trackbacks and comments on each post. I think out of all the songs represented, I could figure out only two right away]

60-63: Kazaam!

60. What is the perfect day for you, weather wise? 70-75 degrees. Cloudless, sea blue sky. Strong sun. Slight, warm breeze. Late into summer, but the weather is letting you know that fall is chasing summer's ass out the door. That has been my perfect day for as long as I was able to think about such things. Unfortunately, that is the exact description of the weather on September 11, 2001 and now my days of perfection are marred by memories. 61. Worst movie you have ever paid to see in a movie theater? Been there, done that, made an award for it. Kazaam. 62. Name a blogging related pet peeve. When people correct your typos/errors in the comments. Be considerate and send an email. I appreciate the emails - no one wants to walk around with spinach on their teeth all day - but leaving a snarky comment regarding an obvious typo is just rude, damn it. 63. Did you ever participate in a wet t-shirt contest in your young and wild days. I didn't have boobs until I had kids. Yes, ladies, there are some good, unintended consequences of pregnancy. -------- Note: this post is part of what was the Spirit of America Ask a Blogger challenge, a challenge in which I am woefully behind. All the previous questions are in one happy place.

Fee Speech and the War Dead

A University of Massachusetts at Amherst graduate student is apologizing to Pat Tillman's family. ... Gonzalez said in an e-mail to a Boston TV station that he was trying to say Tillman's celebrity had factored into his being labeled a hero. He admits he tried to prove his point in an "insensitive way" and that the article wasn't worth publishing.
There were many messages I got out of Gonzales's editorial, but not one of them had anything to do with Tillman's celebrity had factored into his being labeled a hero. Nor do I think this is any sort of apology. Gonzales's words cannot be taken on their merit simply because of things Gonzales has written in the past concerning war and politics. But that's not the point today. We're going to talk instead about freedom of speech, as it pertains to both Gonzales, weblog comments and Ted Koppel. Let's start with the comments. While I think Gonzales is a spoiled, ignorant brat who should be ashamed of himself for printing such an ignorant rant, I do not think that what he did calls for a beating to be delivered upon his person. Nor do I think he should be shot, hung, buried alive or scalped. All of the above suggestions were mentioned in the comments on this post. Some of the comments printed the phone number and address of Gonzales. I deleted most of them, but there are a few more I need to get to. If you want to play the part of vigilante, I'd much rather not be your sidekick. Yes, you have the freedom to throw your ideas out there - but this being my website that I pay for, complete with a space provided to you free for all your commentary needs, I have the right to ask you to remove yourself and your ideas from this place. Frankly, I'd rather not be a part of it when Gonzales is found in a bloody pulp on his own doorstep, should you be so inclined to follow through on your threats. And now a few words about Mr. Koppel. While I applaud Sinclair TV's move to not have their ABC affiliates air Koppel's thinly veiled swipe at the ongoing battle in Iraq, there is a part of me that hopes they reconsider. In an ideal world, we all make our own decisions, which we are then held responsible for. By taking Nightline off the air for that night, Sinclair is both making a decision for every one of its viewers and letting Koppel off the hook in those specific cities in which the show will not be seen. Sinclair should instead give their viewers the chance to watch or not watch the show on their own accord, and put a disclaimer on before Nightline stating that they do not agree with the content of the show, but are going to air it so as not to take away the right to watch it from those who want to. Koppel was on Curtis and Kuby (WABC radio) this morning. He was explaining how important it is that he read the names of the war dead, otherwise the dumb American public will never know the cost of the war. So, Koppel thinks that we are so uneducated about the war that we have no idea people are dying every day, that our soldiers are coming home in caskets, that death is a part of war. We know that, Ted. We are well aware of the casualties of war, both civilian and military. What I want is for Koppel and ABC to be honest about what they are doing. Just come out and say it. But don't drape the program in some patriotic flag and tell us you are doing it for our own good. If that is the story they are sticking with, then that tells me that ABC and the producers of Nightline believe that, as a nation, we are clueless, unniformed and naive. We are not. Whether you are with this war or against it, you know the toll. You know the numbers (exaggerated as some of them may be). You know many of the names and faces. No one I know is hiding their head in the sand and pretending that every soldier who goes overseas will come home in one piece. War is ugly, brutal and deadly. And, sometimes, necessary. This is what I said at Bill Quick's this morning, when Bill linked to a quote by U.S. Rep. Maurice Hinchey: bq. "The decision by Sinclair ... to keep this program off its stations is being made by a corporation with a political agenda without regard to the wants or needs of its viewers," Hinchey said. "This move may be providing a chilling look into the future if we allow media ownership to be consolidated into fewer and fewer hands." To which I replied: And one can conversely say "The decision to air Koppel's reading was made by a corporation with a political agenda without regard to the wants or needs of its viewers." So where does that leave us? Perhaps we should just allow anything and everything to be aired and leave us to judge for ourselves whether or not to watch or listen? Then we can react to what we have seen or heard and not to what was not seen or heard. Everything out in the open; biases, agendas, partnerships, affiliations - full disclosure. Have a crawl on the bottom of CNN saying, "This is an ant-Israeli station" whenever they report from Israel. Have Fox put up a disclaimer saying "We are staunch conservatives who suppor the war" on their station. Newscasters should wear buttons proclaiming support for their favorite politicians. Interviewe shows can open with a little segment in which the interviewer says "Not only do I hate the person I am interviewing, but I slept with her and she dumped me the next day, so I harbor much bitterness towards her." This way, we will have no guessing as to the subtext of a certain segment or editorial. We'll know exactly what we are watching and we can make our judgment on the show's worth based on that. Yea, well Ted Koppel read those names the other night, but he came right out and said it was designed to lower support for the war, so I turned it off. Oh? That's when I turned it up. I thought it was magnificent. But then, I'm anti-war. Oh yes, I know - eventually it will lead to liberals watching liberal shows and conservatives watching conservative shows, and if one watches the other, it will only be to gather ammunition for the next water cooler debate. Much like blogs, where we visit DU or FR just to find out what the "enemy" is saying. And then we'll all live in little echo chambers, where the only sound is the sound of our own opinions bouncing back at us, over and over. Or will we? Would you be more inclined to watch something if you knew outright that the moderator of the show was fervently opposed to your ideals? Would a gay person watch a politcal talk show where the anchor was wearing a lapel pin that read "I hate gays?" See, there's no real solution to media bias. We just have to let it be and try to figure out for ourselves what's truth and what's half truth and what's plain old agenda. I'm glad the Daily Collegian printed Gonzales's editorial. Everyone deserves to have their voice heard, no matter how ignorant and vile it is. Exposure of ignorance is a good thing. But silencing that ignorance with rocks and clubs is not a good thing. It is not good for liberty, for freedom or justice for all - the very things we purport that Pat Tillman was fighting in the name of when he died. If Tillman has become a hero, it is because of his celebrity, in a way. And that's a good thing. Pat Tillman's face and name, for many, have become the face and name of the war dead. Unfortunately, Pat Tillman's name won't be heard on Nightline tonight. He died in Afghanistan. Koppel is only reading the names of the Iraq dead. Maybe he should tell us why. _______ Related: When Idiots Attack Ted's Tribute Ted Koppel, War Profiteer, and The War Dead On Pat Tillman

Looks Like We Made It

The tally shows a little under 50k, but there are some funds that have yet to be allocated, so we did make the goal. [click for readable size] Photo taken by Joanie Please see Smash, Dean, John, Kevin, The Opinion Journal, Gerard and Joanie for more. And Sissy, who mis-linked herself in the comments. Thank you. For everything. I will continue with the SOA blogging, as I still have promises to keep.

April 29, 2004

Spirit of America Closing Out Sale!

Last Call. Bar closes at midnight PST.

Ted's "Tribute" Loses Some Stations

Sinclair TV tells ABC affiliates to pull Nightline special:
The ABC Television Network announced on Tuesday that the Friday, April 30 edition of "Nightline" will consist entirely of Ted Koppel reading aloud the names of U.S. servicemen and women killed in action in Iraq. Despite the denials by a spokeswoman for the show, the action appears to be motivated by a political agenda designed to undermine the efforts of the United States in Iraq. There is no organization that holds the members of our military and those soldiers who have sacrificed their lives in service of our country in higher regard than Sinclair Broadcast Group. While Sinclair would support an honest effort to honor the memory of these brave soldiers, we do not believe that is what "Nightline" is doing. Rather, Mr. Koppel and "Nightline" are hiding behind this so-called tribute in an effort to highlight only one aspect of the war effort and in doing so to influence public opinion against the military action in Iraq. Based on published reports, we are aware of the spouse of one soldier who died in Iraq who opposes the reading of her husband's name to oppose our military action. We suspect she is not alone in this viewpoint. As a result, we have decided to preempt the broadcast of "Nightline' this Friday on each of our stations which air ABC programming. We understand that our decision in this matter may be questioned by some. Before you judge our decision, however, we would ask that you first question Mr. Koppel as to why he chose to read the names of 523 troops killed in combat in Iraq, rather than the names of the thousands of private citizens killed in terrorist attacks since and including the events of September 11, 2001. In his answer, we believe you will find the real motivation behind his action scheduled for this Friday. Unfortunately, we may never know for sure because Mr. Koppel has refused repeated requests from Sinclair's News Central news organization to comment on this Friday's program.
Of course, someone will immediately look into the management of the Sinclair group, discover there's a Republican or two on the board, and declare this all part of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy. Related: Ted Koppel, War Profiteer, and The War Dead On Pat Tillman

51-50: We are the suckage

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. 50k all the way! 51. You mentioned once that you started out on AOL. Did you hang out in chat rooms and if so, which ones? Yea, I was one of those AOL chat room junkies. I started out in Movie Quote Trivia and when that room went to hell due to blogosphere-like ego fights, I moved on to Guess Song By Lyric, which became a nice little home for me while I was going through one of those six month mood swings after my divorce. And then that room went to hell as well, when it was overun by fourteen year old kids who quoted Insane Clown Posse 24 hours a day. I miss some of those people, and I know they stop around here from time to time so just in case this happens to be one of those times, mad props to Molly, Ashely and Tim, my bandmates from the good old Halite days. That's an inside story and I'm not sharing. 52. Got a crush on an entertainment person or are you too old for that stuff? I'd like to kidnap Seth Green, tie him up, stuff him in a Hefty bag and carry him around with me wherever I go. 53. What is your name? Sir Lancelot of Camelot. 54. What is your quest? To seek the Holy Grail 55. What is your favorite color? Blue 56. What is the air-speed velocity of an unladen sparrow? What do you mean, an African or a European swallow? You know, I'd poke air holes in the bag. Really. 57. If nominated, will you run?/58. If elected, will you serve I didn't inhale. 58. What do you want to be when you grow up? I was completely unaware that I had to grow up. I probably should have read the fine print befoe I signed on to this life thing. 59. Did you ever quit smoking? Yes, but once I went off the Wellbutrin, I hopped right back on the smoke wagon. Anyone who tries to persuade me to quit will end up with a small burn hole on their arm. These answers are teh suckage. My brain is compteley fried and being smart, clever, funny, witty or enteraining have become a real effort.

Halfway to 100: I Want Candy

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. 50k all the way! The magic halfway number of 50 is upon us and I am not resting until I finish off 100. Please note that all of the questions - from both email and comments - have been printed out, stuffed in a box and are being picked at random. If your question never gets answered, perhaps I will use it as blogging fodder for one day. Tonight's Q&A session is being brough to you buy Bloody Mary, with an assist from Don Julio vodka. If only I had the ingredients to make the Jim Treacher "I'm not Gay" Special. And Jeter has hit a home run. You may stop with the booing now, people. #50. What kind of candy did you like as a child? Back when I was a kid, there were real candy stores. You could walk in with fifty cents and come out with a bagful of teeth rotting sweetness. Carl's was the candy store of choice. Sometimes we would go to Murray's, but he kept a nasty German Shepard in the store and one time I found a bite mark in a piece of Bazooka Joe gum, so we stopped going there. Carl had all the cool candy. If something new came out, it would be on the shelves the very day it entered the market. I remember the first time I tried a Watchmacallit. Heavenly. My favorite candies from my bygone era, some of which still exist today, but just don't hold the same power that they did back when I was ten and stealing change from my mother's purse so I could help Carl pay his rent. iwantcandy.jpg Halfway there.

Tales From the Courthouse: P. Diddy Syndrome

There's a guy who robbed a bank. He suffers from delusions of grandeur. He's a record mogul and a former assistant to Henry Ford (previous life division) among other things. As he tells it, late one night an "ill wind" came blowing through his window. There was a voice on the wind whispering to him the news that he was now the new owner of the Los Angeles Lakers. To which my boss replied: Wouldn't an ill wind make him owner of the Mets? Just a little courthouse humor to tide fill the space until I begin my question answering marathon.

undercover val

50-100 coming tonight. Right now, it's moving errands and whatnot. Before I go, I must ask a question of you. It seems that Val got someone to take his offer of cross-dressing, leg-shaving blogging in return for a $160.00 donation to SOA. The thing is, the person who made the donation asked Val if he would also wear a disguise. A Michele Catalano disguise. When Val asked for my help, I said perhaps a Yankees jersey would do. I think he threw up. So I told him I would ask you. What would you suggest Val wear as a Michele disguise? Which all reminds me that I still owe someone a photo of myself in a Mets cap. Anyone know where I can purchase a burqa so I don't show any skin in the photo? [50k by the end of the day!]

Questions 47, 48, 49: hokey religions and ancient weapons

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. 50k all the way! 47. What is your favorite scene in a Star Wars movie and why? The very first minute of the very first movie. You're sitting in the movie theater, the scrolling intro just gets done and suddenly the tip of a ship appears on the screen. It's an Imperial Star Destroyer and it is massive. It's chasing a Rebel ship, which it partly disintegrates, but not before the destoyer does a slow crawl onto the screen, revealing its enormity frame by frame. You know then and there that you are watching the coolest movie ever. 48. Say you are Princess Leia, pre-Return of the Jedi. Would you have gone for Luke or Han? If I'm Princess Leia, I'm thinking; which guy is going to help me save the universe, beat the crap out of some stormtroopers, kick Vader's ass, destroy the Death Star and be a good fuck? Sure as hell ain't that whiny bitch Luke. Wahwahawah But I was going into Toshi Station to pick up some power converters... ... wahwahwah. 49. Who do you think would do a worse job on Star Wars III: Lucas himself or Michael Moore? Tough choice. Both of them would PC the hell out of it and Lucas already did enough PCing with the whole Greedo/Han thing. Actually, I don't give a crap. As far as I'm concerned, nothing exists after Jedi was made, and even Jedi barely makes it onto my radar. Leave me alone with New Hope and Empire and I'll be a happy geek for years to come. Michael Moore would make a mighty fine Jabba, though.

Questions 43-46: One Bad Apple

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. 50k all the way! osmonds.gifTrust me when I say that today is not the day you want to throw down with me. You will lose. Badly. Just ask the condesending receptionist from my doctor's office, who is probably in tears right now. Let's get busy with the questions, shall we? 42. If you couldn't live on Long Island or the greater New York area, where would you live? Why? Probably upstate New York (that's not the Greater New York area, is it?). We've been going up to Roscoe, New York every summer since I was about five. I love the peace, the slow pace and being surrounded by nature. I love the way the night sky upstate, where you can billions more stars than you can see here on the Island. I love the dirt roads and cool mornings and evenings. I could live like that. Definitely. 43.If you had to do it all over again in regards to blogging, would you? Honestly, no. When I think of how much time I've spend blogging, it scares me. But if I knew then what I know now, I would definitely find other means to get my writing and opinions out there. That's not to say that I don't love blogging, because I do. But had I known that it's a package deal complete with trolls and enemies, I might have just done it anonymously. Or not at all. Hell, I think the answer to this is, I don't know. 44. How can I be as cool as Michele?? (you can't isn't an answer!) Show your tits, dude. 45. How much time goes into administering a blog like yours, both in absolute terms and in comparison to the time spent creating content? It runs different every day. Most of the content is created in my head, as I drive or shower or work. It's just a matter of opening up the innards of the blog and typing it in. Generally, I'll have a two or three sentence idea in my head when I sit down - it pretty much flows from there. I very rarely write in advance or prepare posts ahead of time. Everything here is pretty much off the cuff. I can type at an amazing speed, also. For argument's sake, take this post. That took about twelve minutes from conception to birth. Today's post on that idiot from UMass took a bit longer (about 25 minutes) because I had to re-read the original story a couple of times in order to address the points. Each day varies - some days I'll blog for a couple of hours worth of time. Some days it amounts to about an hour total that I put in. Again, with the time wasting. Are you guys trying to force me to realize that I have no life?? 46. What was your favorite cartoon show when you were a kid? Sigh. You people are really trying to destroy my reputation. It was The Osmonds, ok? THE OSMONDS! There, I said it. I loved that show. I loved Donny. I loved Jimmy. I loved the songs and Fuji the dog. They toured the world and took us with them to all these exotic locations, including Transylvania where they met a vampire, and Jimmy would always do something stupid so hilarity would ensue and then they would sing and....it was Rankin Bass, man! How could you not like it? That's enough. I'm going to drown my stress in a huge, greasy cheeseburger and a chocolate egg cream. 47-50 when I get back.

That's the Spirit!

Today is the last day to get your donation in to Spirit of America in the name of Spirit of Team (which is the combined efforts of the original three coalitions). Our goal is no longer to beat each other, but to get our tally up to 50k before the night is through. So fare we have raised a total of $45,068. That means we have until midnight tonight (PST) to raise $5000 dollars to reach our goal. I think we can do this, considering what we have to offer in return for your bucks. The whole list of offers can be found at the vBay page (The Coalition Marketplace), including dinners, graphic design, autographed prints by both Cox&Forkum and Chris Muir, editing services, music, time on the Hugh Hewitt show, a Chief Wiggles lecture and cross-dressing blogging by Val. Today, we've added the incredible offer of three signed Victor David Hanson books! That's right, the Victory Coalition has VDH himself on their side. I will commence with the answering of 100 questions momentarily. Tomorrow, I will address all of the topic requests that were bought and paid for. Go check out the offers and, if you haven't already, donate and get us to 50k for Spirit of America.


One thing to say in re John Hawkins's five hundredth post regarding women bloggers. John Hawkins is just jealous that he doesn't have tits to flaunt. Controversy is his cleavage.

More on Pat Tillman: When Idiots Attack

[ed. note: I mistakenly identified Gonzales as a woman. The post has since been edited to correctly identify his gender] Rene Gonzales is a graduate student at UMass. He is from Puerto Rico where, apparently, soldiers are pendejos or idiots. Rene wrote an editorial for the school paper, the Daily Collegian. The title: Pat Tillman is not a hero: He got what was coming to him. Something in that heading told me to just stop reading there. Click the X, close the page, hit the back button; do anything but read it. Of course, I read it. And I am left with the conclusion that Rene Gonzales is, for all intents and purposes, a pendejo. Mr. Gonzales makes a big mistake in his editorial. He confuses his anti-Iraq war stance with the war in Afghanistan. Oh, there are many other mistakes in his article, both of fact and judgment. But this line struck my as particularly ignorant: For people in the United States, who seem to be unable to admit the stupidity of both the Afghanistan and Iraqi wars... Mull that over a minute while I go back a paragraph or two. bq. You know [Tillman] was a real Rambo, who wanted to be in the "real" thick of things. I could tell he was that type of macho guy, from his scowling, beefy face on the CNN pictures. Well, he got his wish. Even Rambo got shot in the third movie, but in real life, you die as a result of being shot. They should call Pat Tillman's army life "Rambo 4: Rambo Attempts to Strike Back at His Former Rambo 3 Taliban Friends, and Gets Killed." Let's put aside the juvenile scorn heaped upon Tillman just for the way he looked in a some pictures on CNN. Rene seems to believe that somehow, Pat Tillman was directly involved in whatever past relationship the U.S. had with the Taliban. Or, perhaps he is not railing against Tillman himself, but using him as a symbol of the United States in general. What a disservice he does to Tillman by describing him as such. Sure, there are gung-ho soldiers, the kind who envision themselves as modern day Rambos but, as with any other career out there, you will find the ultra-charged, alpha-worker within any group of people. I bet there are even computer programmers who pretend they are deep in the jungles of Cambodia, knife clenched in teeth, as they write code for word processing programs. Apparently, Tillman's urge to defend his country isn't borne out of some sense of dedication or duty, but of testosterone and caveman-like stupidity. As he tries to explain this theory, Gonzales blows a hole in it himself. bq. But, does that make him a hero? I guess it's a matter of perspective. For people in the United States, who seem to be unable to admit the stupidity of both the Afghanistan and Iraqi wars, such a trade-off in life standards (if not expectancy) is nothing short of heroic. Obviously, the man must be made of "stronger stuff" to have had decided to "serve" his country rather than take from it. It's the old JFK exhortation to citizen service to the nation, and it seems to strike an emotional chord. So, it's understandable why Americans automatically knee-jerk into hero worship. [emphasis added] And that is where Gonzales's cause loses whatever sliver of credibility it had. Perhaps Rene needs a reminder of why we went into Afghanistan? Unless he's one of those people who think the Mossad blew up the towers with the help of George Bush (and it's not too far fetched to think that he is), then, in his effort to drive home his anti-war stance, he made a bit of an error by calling the Afghanistan war stupid. Is it stupid to want to hunt down and kill those responsible for committing an act of terror that killed 3,000 people? Is it stupid to want to avenge the death of those innocent people? Is it stupid to try to drive the enemy out of their little caves and holes and make them pay for they did? Does Mr. Gonzales not realize that what the Taliban did on September 11, 2001 was an act of war? One would have to believe just that in order to reconcile his feelings that Mr. Tillman went to Afghanistan out of some macho, macho man pride and the US going over to that country was stupid. Let's read on. bq. However, in my neighborhood in Puerto Rico, Tillman would have been called a "pendejo," an idiot. Tillman, in the absurd belief that he was defending or serving his all-powerful country from a seventh-rate, Third World nation devastated by the previous conflicts it had endured, decided to give up a comfortable life to place himself in a combat situation that cost him his life. This was not "Ramon or Tyrone," who joined the military out of financial necessity, or to have a chance at education. This was a "G.I. Joe" guy who got what was coming to him. That was not heroism, it was prophetic idiocy. Ok, Gonzales. I'll bite. What do you think going into Afghanistan was all about? From that paragraph alone, one might believe that Gonzales views Afghanistan as one collective victim, and we should never have gone over there to defend ourselves because, well, they're poor. So we'll just let them be. Again, we see the whole "soldiers are just poor folk" theory. In Rene's world, people who join the army are either too poor to do anything else, or they have an inate desire to swing from vines while slashing at the air with bayonets in their hands and bloodlust in their hearts. I guess Rene has never met anyone who actually joined the armed forces to serve their country. In the world that Rene inhabits, no such thing exists. For Gonzales and most of his ilk, when a person says they joined the army out of duty to country and freedom, they just assume the person has been brainwashed by commercials or recruitment officers. Ramon and Tyrone are poor and stupid. bq. Tillman, probably acting out his nationalist-patriotic fantasies forged in years of exposure to Clint Eastwood and Rambo movies, decided to insert himself into a conflict he didn't need to insert himself into. It wasn't like he was defending the East coast from an invasion of a foreign power. THAT would have been heroic and laudable. What he did was make himself useful to a foreign invading army, and he paid for it. It's hard to say I have any sympathy for his death because I don't feel like his "service" was necessary. He wasn't defending me, nor was he defending the Afghani people. He was acting out his macho, patriotic crap and I guess someone with a bigger gun did him in. Once again, Gonzales assumes that Tillman was unable to think for himself (despite the fact that he graduated from college in 3 1/2 years with a 3.82 GPA) and was coerced by the television monster and the evil movie industry into joining the Rangers. It wasn't like he was defending the East coast from an invasion of a foreign power. THAT would have been heroic and laudable. Well, that invasion already happened. They swooped in on airplanes and killed 3,000 of us. If I read Gonzales's words correctly, he believes that we had no right to invade Afghanistan because it's not like they were looking to attack us again. If Gonzales believes that Tillman wasn't defending him, then perhaps he should go back to Puerto Rico and rest easy in the comfort that if and when we are attacked again, his lovely island of tropical breezes will probably not be on the minds of the terrorists. bq. Perhaps it's the old, dreamy American thought process that forces them to put sports greats and "larger than life" sacrificial lambs on the pedestal of heroism, no matter what they've done. After all, the American nation has no other role to play but to be the cheerleaders of the home team; a sad role to have to play during conflicts that suffer from severe legitimacy and credibility problems. Pat Tillman wasn't a hero because he was a "sports great." He was a hero because he sacrficed his life to defend ours. That's something Mr. Gonzales would never know about because it takes a special kind of selfishness to have his mentality. I would like to engage Gonzales in a debate. I want to ask him how the conflict in Afghanistan - the country, by the way, in which Tillman was killed - lacks legitimacy and credibility. I would like to know what he believes the response to 9/11 should have been. Wait, don't tell me. He thinks we should find out why the terrorists hate us so much so we can work on being nicer towards them. bq. Matters are a little clearer for those living outside the American borders. Tillman got himself killed in a country other than his own without having been forced to go over to that country to kill its people. After all, whether we like them or not, the Taliban is more Afghani than we are. Their resistance is more legitimate than our invasion, regardless of the fact that our social values are probably more enlightened than theirs. For that, he shouldn't be hailed as a hero, he should be used as a poster boy for the dangerous consequences of too much "America is #1," frat boy, propaganda bull. Their resistance is more legitimate than our invasion.. I had to read that several times to make sure I wasn't misunderstanding. Our invasion was a result of their invasion on us. What part of this concept does Mr. Gonzales not understand? Tillman's willingness to fight had nothing to do with an America is #1 concept; we were attacked, he wanted to defend and avenge. Like thousands upon thousands of others, Tillman put on a uniform and put his life on the line for us and for people like Gonzales, who only piss on their graves. bq. Al-Qaeda won't be defeated in Afghanistan, even if we did kill all their operatives there. Only through careful and logical changing of the underlying conditions that allow for the ideology to foster will Al-Qaeda be defeated. Ask the Israelis if 50 years of blunt force have eradicated the Palestinian resistance. For that reason, Tillman's service, along with that of thousands of American soldiers, has been wrongly utilized. He did die in vain, because in the years to come, we will realize the irrationality of the War on Terror and the American reaction to Sept. 11. The sad part is that we won't realize it before we send more people like Pat Tillman over to their deaths. Who didn't see that coming? It's about the root causes! They killed us because we aren't like them, so therefore we should try to understand them. Let's sit down and have some group therapy with the Taliban and get a good feeling for why they feel like anyone who isn't a Muslim should die. That ought to clear things up, but good! I really want to know what he thinks the reaction to September 11th should have been. I invite Mr. Gonzales to pack up his bags and move to Afghanistan, where he can spend all his time making nice with the terrorists, getting to know what their jihad against Americans is all about and learning how a suicide cult is born. At night, they can sit around the campfire and call American soldiers pendejos. I wonder who the real pendejo is? The guy who put his life on the line so Mr. Gonzales can live free and worry less about future terrorists attacks, or the college student who stands over the grave of the soldier who fought for him and spits upon that grave? However warmed I feel by the comments left underneath the editorial by readers who also think Mr. Gonzales is a bit of a, how do you say it...idiot, I still feel that cold chill of the anti-war left running down my back. Ever since Pat Tillman was killed and he became the poster boy for the "soldiers are baby killers" crowd, I feel more than ever like our country is experiencing the cracking of a fault line in our emotional and political infrastructure that will never be mended. Mr. Gonzales is just another seismic shake on that fault line. Pendejo, indeed. Update: Jim at Right Thoughts has more on Rene Gonzales.

April 28, 2004

get me back on board

Tomorrow. Once again, I apologize to everyone who has donated to Spirit of America by accepting my offer for post requests and questions answered. It's been a bit of a crazy week here, but I do hereby promise that tomorrow you will find all the answers to the burning questions asked (up to 100) and I will also begin the process of writing posts for everyone who paid for and suggested a specific topic. I thank you for your patience - but most of all, I thank you for your generosity. Please don't forget the drive for 50k. Thanks.

The War Dead

Dear Ted Koppel: Here are more names of war dead to add to your reading on Friday night. This was created by Alan of Avocare and originally appeared here. If anyone would like to compile a list of US war dead in Afghanistan, from the first Gulf War, the first WTC bombing and any terrorist attacks on American interests, I would be glad to add them to my list which I will most certainly send to ABC. I hope nobody takes this the wrong way - this is directed towards Koppel and ABC for their skewed sense of what a memorial is and is no way directed towards those brave souls who died while fighting for freedom in Iraq.

one step closer to the edge

And I'm about to......collapse. They moved our closing date to May 11th. Did I mention that the people who are going to rent the place we are in now are supposed to move in on May 12th? Please stop me from killing someone. If you can't do that, please start taking up a collection for bail money. Or lots of liquor. I'd even eat the brown acid at this point. Anything to escape reality. Serenity now! Thank you. _____________ P.S. You could also make me happy by going to vBay - the Spirit of Team marketplace - and taking one of the offers that will help get us to 50k in the next 24 hours.

Ted Koppel - War Profiteer

Ted Koppel has decided take some time during his show to read off the names of all the American soldiers killed in Iraq. Entitled ďThe Fallen,Ē the special ďNightlineĒ broadcast will air FRIDAY APRIL 30 (11:35 p.m., ET), on the ABC Television Network. ABC News will also simulcast this tribute live on its Jumbotron in New York Cityís Times Square. ABC News Radio will air excerpts of the program. How sweet. How noble. How....transparent. Now, I know you're asking, what media bias? What are you talking about? See, I thought, as did many others, that Memorial Day would be a more fitting time to do this. Hey, even Koppel thought so. Then he said: "But we felt that the impact would actually be greater on a day when the entire nation is not focused on war dead," he said. Ok, let's put aside that statement for a moment and play a little guessing game. Does anyone know what happens this week in tv land? Beuler? Anyone? That's right, it sweeps month, beginning on Thursday! Do I detect ulterior motives - say something besides altruism and patriotism - from the esteemed Mr. Koppel? Does Memorial Day fall inside of sweeps month? No, it does not. The Washington Post asked ABC about the sweeps stunt. [Executive producer Leroy] Sievers and others we spoke with at ABC News insisted they did not realize that the May sweeps start tomorrow. Right. Show me an exec that doesn't know when sweeps starts and I'll show you an exec getting a pink slip. Oh, it's not just about ratings. And that's where the media bias comes in. Allah asks: bq. Do any of Allah's readers know if Ted did something similar for the troops killed in Afghanistan? Or in Mogadishu? Or when the mujahedeen blew up the Marine barracks in Lebanon, or when they killed 17 sailors in trying to sink the U.S.S. Cole? Or after Gulf War I? I looked and looked, Allah. The answer seems to be a resounding no. Then again, during those times, Ted probably wasn't looking to throw poison darts at a running president. Let's look at this line again: "But we felt that the impact would actually be greater on a day when the entire nation is not focused on war dead," he said. Just what kind of impact is Ted trying to make? From where I sit, it looks like it's the kind of impact designed to fan the flames of anti-war sentiment. Oh, and if you know of anyone who died in Iraq while defending freedom, but they did not die in actual combat, don't bother waiting up for the name to be read. There's no room for friendly fire or accidents in this sweeps extravaganza. "I have always felt, and I said it when I was in Iraq last year, that the most important thing a journalist can do is remind people of the cost of war," Mr. Koppel said in a telephone interview yesterday. Yes, and the most important thing a newscaster can do is to drive home those liberal talking points of hopelessnes and defeat. I'm not asking Koppel to do a two hour piece on Iraqis throwing flowers at the feet of U.S. soldiers. I'm just asking him to be honest in motives, and asking ABC to not take its viewers for idiots. Then again, ABC is also airing that Who Wants to Be an Adoptive Parent piece of garbage. Perhaps next week, Barbara Walters will read off the names of all those "insurgents" killed by US soldiers. She can auction off some Palestinian orphans while she's at it.

The Gathering of Forces

Forces have united.

The drive for 50k is on.

I'll just quote VC Team Captain Kevin:
Late last night I looked at the standings in the Spirit Of America Challenge and concluded that with less than 24 hours to go, it would be hard for the Victory Coalition to catch the Fighting Fusileers for Freedom!, not impossible - but then again not likely. Then a funny thing happened, I noticed that together the teams has raised nearly $36,000 in the last week, and in an e-mail to Dean wondered whether we could reach $50,000. Dean mentioned that the original goal was to raise $50,000, and sent a message to all the teams this morning to gage interest in working toward that common goal. After a host of e-mails all three teams agreed that working together on the last day we might be able to push the combined funds raised over $50,000. Of course the members of Team Spirit all would prefer that you donate through the existing teams donations pages, but at the end of the day it's the donations that matter not the teams. Each team will try to cross promote the others current offers in the push to reach $50,000 in donations. To minimize the number of places you have to visit to keep up on all the offers check these three central posts:
All of the current offers from the Victory Coalition and the Fighting Fusileers for Freedom are listed at vBay: Smash, who I can like again, has more. 50k. We can do it. We don't care who raises the most, we just want to reach 50k by tonight.

here's that handbasket we've been waiting for, hop in!

Ok, one post. Just because I had to. What the FUCK is wrong with Barbara Walters and the entire ABC management? God help us.

defcon 1!!

Yes, my stress levels have finally reached defcon 1. Don't expect much from me today, as packing/moving/ever changing closing dates/money have got me so worked up today just might be the day I finally kill someone with my bare hands. My goal is to get the entire kitchen packed today. My sub-goal is to not harm any human beings while I do it. Really, all I want to do is curl up on the floor and weep. I apologize for letting the SOA blogging things get so behind schedule. I promise to fulfill all requests in a timely manner. Hopefully they have broadband at South Oaks.

Don't Look So Surprised

Today being Saddam's birthday, I am reminded of one of my very favorite Faith No More songs, The Gentle Art of Making Enemies. It contains the lines: Donít look so surprised Happy birthday...fucker My husband and I sing this to each other on our respective birthdays in lieu of the tired old "you look like a monkey and you smell like one, too." Anyhow, I discovered just today that you can create your own controversy, so to speak. So I put the two things together, and got this. hbf.jpg Well, that was fun. Back to packing.

When I Say Happy, You Say Birthday!

Go Saddam! It's your birthday!

I was trying to find a poetry generator that would let us all make birthday poems for Saddam, but I couldn't find one that fit the purpose (I wanted to be able to submit my own words). So, I'll just have to leave it up to you. I'm sure Saddam must be feeling quite dowtrodden today - after all, it's his birthday and his followers are being wiped out at an alarming rate, his favored city of Fallujah is burning and he's not really aging very well. Here's your chance to cheer him up. Write a one line message to dear old Saddam. Later on today, I'll collect all the messages, put them on a virtual card and then I'll email it to Red Cross and see if they can't get it to him. Show that birthday spirit! Let Saddam know just what the world thinks of him as he celebrates his 67th birthday with the cockroaches and prison guards. Update: JFH had a great idea: Everyone donate to Spirit of America in the name of Saddam!

today's readings

Hey. I'm busy writing a couple of things. May I direct you elsewhere meanwhile? Taking Chance Home: The following is Marine Lieutenant Colonel Strobl's account of escorting the remains of Lance Corporal Chance Phelps. It's a long and beautifully written and it deserves to be read in it's entirety. It's about Valor, Honor and Respect. The Shooting Gallery: Brent of the Ville has an awesome band - I've listened to his stuff before and trust me, it's great. Go buy the CD. Now. Iraq blogger Ays "celebrates" Saddam's birthday.

Last Day for SOA: When Lileks Talks, We Listen/Donate!

[Attention, James: I keep returning your emails, but your filter is bouncing back my Command Post address as spam. Spam!] lilekssoa.jpg Do what Mr. Lileks says. Join the Victory Coalition. He did. And he made this swell graphic. Today is the last day you will find me begging for Victory Coaltion donations. The Spirit of America challenged ends at 12:01 a.m. PST, which means 3am for me, but my computer will be long shut down by then. The standings so far: The Fusillis: $16334.49 The Victory Coalition: $11713.44 Liberty Alliance: $5880 Do you see what this means? No? It means that all told, the Blogosphere SOA Challenge has raised $33,927.93 for Spirit of America. All of our bickering, backstabbing and one upmanship has obviously paid off. Let's shift into high gear as we make the final turn on the Victory Coalition lap. Let's close this thing out with the Victory Coalition on top. Sure, we'd have to raise over $5,000 in about 18 hours, but what's your demographics, James? Are your readers rich? Anyone out there cater to the six figure income crowd? Know any celebrities? Slept with Tommy Mattola? Got anyone you could blackmail? Surely you must have some dirt on someone. Use it! If not, get the hell off of your lazy ass and go sell a kidney. Sacrfice, people! Now, just because this is the last day of the challenge, it certainly is not the last day I will be fulfilling my promises to the SOA/VC contributors. In fact, I'll be filling requests for weeks to come. Which is fine, because I'll have plenty to blog about for a while. I kind of had a bit of a malfunction with Outlook last night and lost a certain folder. So if you already donated to SOA and asked for a dedicated blog topic in return, and you have yet to see that topic addressed, please send me another email and I promise not to lose it this time. I'll finish with the questions at some point today, in between the packing and stressing. I am also going to throw out one more offer; it's not much, but it's something I'll have fun doing. First, is a cd (with mps, not audio files, because I can fit more that way), containing my (at least)50 favorite songs, complete with a "book" I will make to go with the CD, that will include annotations for each song - sort of like liner notes, plus a CD cover drawn by my very talented husband. Anyone who donates at least ten dollars today gets one. If you have already donate but did not cash in on one of our offers, you may use your receipt for this one. So, to recap: * Lileks says give to the Victory Coalition. * Challenge ends tonight * Many good offers still stand * We are in second place, but wish to be in first * You must resend any blog requests you made of me * Blog posts and question blogging will extend into the future, even if the contest is not * I have a new offer up today * This is the LAST day my entire weblog will be devoted to SOA. Make it count * You are all incredibly generous and I thank you, along with the Victory Coalition, the other alliances and Spirit of America.

April 27, 2004

39 through 42: It takes two to fake an orgasm!

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. There will be no American Idol blogging tonight for two reasons: a) I refuse to watch it since the debacle of last week and b) even if Jennifer was still with us, I wouldn't watch it because, Gloria Estefan night? I think they ran out of themes. Which brings us to the next batch of questions, all having to do with one form of entertainment or another. 39. What movie have you watched a million times but you're kind of embarassed to say how much you loved it? Ok, I am going way out on a limb here. Like, so far out that no one will even come rescue me and I'll be left alone to be eaten by tree sloths. And I can't say I don't deserve it. So, you know that movie with Mary Kate and Ashley, the one that was a total rip off of Parent Trap? Yea, It Takes Two. Shut up. I love that movie. And the worst part is, it stars Steve Guttenberg and Kirstie Alley, who are probably my two least favorite actors of all time. I don't know why I love it, I just do. And if you tell anyone about this, I'll have to stick a fork in your eye. So I guess I should answer this one next: 40. Mary Kate or Ashley? I'm still not really sure which one is which but I can tell you that as soon as they turn 18, I'm going to dive right into that fantasy I've had on hold for a few years now. 41. Just to be a brat: who's the sexiest male blogger? Brat, indeed. So, what do we mean by sexy? We can rule out looks, because I don't really know what most bloggers look like. Oh sure, some of them have photos up, but isn't it just a little bit strange that most male bloggers seem to look like Brad Pitt? If I were blind, I would determine a person's sexiness by their ability to both make me laugh and make want to laugh. Two different things, you know. You know, I'm not going to answer this. By the above description, you can figure it out. 42. have you ever faked an orgasm? and please elaborate. Hon, I was the queen of fake orgams. It was the only way to end it quickly. Hey, I'm done. You getting there? Please? See answer to question number 19 for further reading. Ok, it's Chappelle time. _____ Don't forget the Art Sale! Yes, I'm a shameless whore for my husband. What wife isn't?

tiny bubbles

Jeff Goldstein of Protein Wisdom is looking for a new logo. So I made him one. Sure, he'll probably never use it. But it's the thought that counts. Maybe. Not safe for anyone. pwlogo.JPG And if you can't figure it out, don't ask.

Q&A 33-38: Once You Go Black

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. 33. Speaking as a blogger, do you believe Adam and Eve had belly buttons? Can you support your conclusions? I would have to actually believe that Adam and Eve existed before I was able to espouse my views on their belly buttons, eh? However, if they did have belly buttons, I think that Adam would have been an outie. 34. What was your favorite subject in high school? English, by far. 35. Least favorite? Gym. Two words: square dancing. Ok, one more word: Uncoordination. 36.Gold or Silver? Silver. Something about gold just turns me off. Our wedding bands are silver. Though, if we went for our first ring choices, we would have these. I swear. See here. 37. Is black the new black? Yes, and it pisses me off, because I was into black back when it was unsavory to do so. And now everyone loves the black and I look like I'm trying to be stylish instead of trying to blend into the background. 38. What's the nastiest thing you've ever drank? A six day old cup of coffee that I had mistaken for a fresh cup of coffee. Rancid milk rules! _____ Don't forget the Art Sale! Yes, I'm a shameless whore for my husband. What wife isn't?

Do I hear another million?

V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!! Yea, yea. I know that Big Hero Smash was on Hugh Hewitt's show talking up the BLAAARGH Coalition. But we went one better. Lileks called into the show and announced that he has joined the Victory Coalition! AND - he said he would see Hewitt's puny contribution by ONE MILLION DOLLARS! Ok, so he lowered it to fifty, but still. We've got Lileks on our side and they don't and that's like having All that is Good Itself on our team. So, nyah. We also got Meryl and Laurence to join us today, and Allah has already praised us, so we are covering all the religious bases. If we could get Raving Atheist and one of the Blogs4Gods to jump on our wagon, we'll have all the bases covered. Yes, questions/answers coming up. I've taken the day off from work tomorow to get more packing done and I am not looking at one single box tonight. I need a break. Now, go buy my husband's art while it's still available.

Art Deal!

[Update 5/2/04: The new online gallery will be opening on Tuesday, May 3rd (in the evening hours) - I will put up the URL then. For those who took advantage of the pre-gallery sale, the prints will be going out tomorrow morning - you should receive them by the end of the week. For other previously previewed art, see here, here , here, here and here.] If you are interested in purchasing digital prints of any of these pieces, please email me. If you are interested in hiring Justin, please email him. Back to the questions, requests and SOA blogging momentarily. I've been working on my husband's art gallery/store. It will be open for business hopefully tomorrow evening. Wine, cheese and pretentious talk will not be available, sorry to say. But hey, you don't have to dress up, either. I thought I would give a one-time, special offer to my readers, who have been great supporters of Justin's art. This is his newest print and will be available to readers of ASV at a special rate for 24 hours only. Get it before he's famous and we quadruple the prices in the name of capitalism! click for large size $20 gets you a signed and numbered 11x14 digital print. [This offer is NOT in conjuction with the Spirit of America challenge] To order, please see below. Updated 4/28: Thank you to everyone who purchased a print last night. Delivery will take up to two weeks but not longer. We hope to do business with you again when the gallery opens. Thanks for supporting my husband's art. You won't regret it because some day he will be so famous that he'll leave me for a 20 year old blonde porn star and then we'll all sell his prints on eBay and make a fortune.

Fallujah on Fire

Command Post has it all, of course. The time to hesitate is through No time to wallow in the mire Try now we can only lose And this war become a real quagmire Come on baby, set Fallujah on fire. We did all we could. We tried ceasefires, we tried to get the women and children to leave. We asked them to lay down their weapons. We did the house to house thing. If we don't do this, they're only going to laugh at us. While they're killing us. Will there be ripple effects? Sure there will. Should that stop us from decimating these animals? No. The time to win friends in Fallujah is over. They never were our friends to begin with. A few thousand terrorists are in Fallujah. And they aren't just Iraqis. They're Syrians, Afghans, Iranians, et al. Get them while they're gathered. And put al Sadr atop the pyre. Godspeed, soldiers.

birth school work death

And in between all that is blogging. I'm really trying to finish these questions, but life and work keep getting in the way, damn them. For now, I will direct your attention to all the fine offers that the Victory Coalition has going on for you. Please note that I am no longer taking post requests - I've met my quota for that and still have several to fulfill. I'll still take your questions, but please realize that due to time constraints on my part, the requests and questions will be posted for some time after the actual Spirit of America challenge ends. [the following is stolen from the website of VC member Matt] The offers are starting to get out of hand, but I'll try and run them down for you. If you've not yet joined the Victory Coalition, well, you obviously aren't very cool. How do we know that? Because Chris Muir joined and has donated an autographed print for auction. Personally, I plan to have that puppy hanging on my wall by the end of the week. I'm am, even as we speak, looking at the blank spot where it will reside.

Amongst the other offers, we of course have our own blog giveaway. Not just one, but two blogs. I build it, Michele does your logo and Kevin adds those special scripty touches. All you have to do is get ten friends and bundle a nice fat soft money contribution to the cause. At least two groups have started the battle, but more are needed.

Gerard is offering something this blog needs desperately, professional editing.

Michele, the newest Dear Abby of the 'sphere, is answering your questions for a small fee. Is she Dear Abby or Lucy Van Pelt?

Kate is offering dinner in Hawaii (travel not included) plus booze!

Quick! Pay money and see Sean in a Lions jersey.

Dorkafork wants to cook you dinner, plus booze!

Jay will redesign your hideously colored (red background, green text?) blog.

Three letters, BBQ!

If that isn't enough to get you off your butt and onto the donation page, what is? Booze, blogs and BBQ, sounds like a great party.

Wait! Laurence is forming a gathering of pussy photos! ___ Ok, so that's the offers on the table right now. Don't be a fool. Cough up some cash and get in on one of those bargains right now. For those who have already donate, thank you very much. Your generosity is a beautiful thing. Back later with the answers to all your burning questions, but no answers for your burning urinary tract.

Question #32: Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurge!

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. Regardless, I still have about 70 questions to answer to get to 100, so let's get busy. surge_logo.gifSome have come by email, some by comments - I'm going to do my best to get to them all, except for any questions that contained the words condom and ass in conjuction with each other. Yes, there were two. Two. 33. How long can a female blogger survive on caffeine, chardonnay fumes, and no sleep? I'm not sure, but I did a similar study right after my divorce. For 32 days, I survived on a diet of coffee, Surge soda, mini snickers bars, cigarettes and insomnia. On the 33rd day, I fell asleep. For three straight days. I would think that Chardonnay fumes the questioner is huffing would cause the pass-out day to come sooner. Also, I wasn't blogging at the time, but I was logging about 23 hours a day in chat rooms and on instant messenger. I highly recommend taking a break at day 20 in order to avoid that 33rd day burnout. Did anyone else have a fondness for Surge soda? Sure, it made me piss green, but it shocked parts of my brain into awakening that had been dormant for years. And yes, my hair stood on end and I shook like Katherine Hepburn, but damn, that shit was good. I really hate soda. But Surge was more than soda. It was No-Doz in beverage form.

Same as it ever was

I don't know. Something's missing. It's been a mere twelve days since I waved goodbye to "warblogging," but it feels like more. I thought I would feel lighter or less stressed out. I thought my mood would miraculously lift once I didn't have to deal with hate mail and evil comments. Instead, I feel a strange combination of empty and burdened. I love writing about music and sports and all that other pop culture stuff. But I'm not too happy writing about just that. And all the rage and fire comes with reading and watching the news every day just burns a great big hole in my stomach when that fire is not quenched by spilling the words out here. I feel that connection I had with my readers - for the most part - has vanished. Perhaps it was the rage and fire that kept us connected? Maybe it's not the same when I'm writing all filler, no killer as they say. At the end of each day, I usually go back and read what I wrote on ASV. It's missing something. Every day I say to my husband, it's missing something. And he says to go back to doing what I was doing before, because I've been really cranky since I stopped. Which sort of defeats the purpose, no? It was supposed to make me less cranky. And here lies the story of my life, the thing my mother always bitched at me for; I never stick to what I say I'm going to do. And then I don't stick to not doing what I say I'm not going to do. I'm too fickle, too emotional and too inconsistent to make constant promises, especially promises pertaining to my own life. You know what pisses me off? When you have 3,000 songs in the Winamp and you put it on shuffle and it keeps hitting the same hundred songs or so. There should be a super-shuffle mode. So, yea. I go into super-shuffle mode now. Because I don't want to be that Winamp player repeating the Les Miz soundtrack over and over when somewhere in there lies a Slayer cd. Know what I'm saying? I guess, to put it simply, I could say I broke the blog and I want to fix it, but by whose standards do I fix it - mine or the people that are using it? Mine. Which is not something I would have said a few weeks ago, so I guess some things have changed. And you know what they say about the more things change.... Back to the questions and SOA shilling when I get some food in my tummy

Questions 26-32: Aquaman sleeps with the fishies

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place.
Questions. You ask them. I answer. And here we go again #26: What is the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything? 42, of course. #27: How can I aspire to be a great as you? You can aspire all you want. Just click your heels and wish. Whether or not anything happens is another story. I'm assuming by "great" you mean mediocrity at its best. 28. Which hockey team do you support (or do you ignore hockey altogether)? I'm an Islander fan, though I have been known in the past to be seen in a Rangers jersey, as well as a Toronto Maple Leafs Jersey. I lost my passion for hockey when they started with all the rule changes and sissifying. 29. If you could add or remove an Olympic event, which would you change. Remove: synchronized swimming, ping-pong and that thing the gymnasts do with the ribbons. Add: Gladiator style fighting, celebrity death matches, air guitar and feeding terrorists to lions. 30. What's your favorite meal? Twenty dollars worth of Taco Bell and a beer. 31. Your choice of "it," as if it could be any other way: Why do you do it? It's alive, afraid, a lie, a sin It's magic, it's tragic, it's a loss, it's a win It's dark, it's moist, it's a bitter pain It's sad it happened and it's a shame It was in my face, and I grabbed it. 32. Who is the lamest comicbook superhero? Everyone knows it's the old school Aquaman. Let's see, he swims and mind controls the fishies. And he's, well... Skeletor: Hero, my ass. Hey everyone, Luke is sleeping with Aquaman! Hahahaha! (much laughter from crowd. Aquaman gets up and runs out the door, crying) Spiderman: Awww, geez. Must you guys do this every time? Crow, go get him. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The Thing in My Closet

[Incredible VC/SOA auction today!]


Here's where I tap my fingers, sip my coffee and consider which direction to go in. I stop for a moment to get the kids out of bed, wait a few minutes, flick the bedroom lights on and off and then yell again for them to get out of bed. I sit down at the computer. Again.

Had breakfast (ok, another cup of coffee), did laundry, took shower. All in a morning's work when you get up at 4:45 a.m. I fell asleep at 9:30 last night - passed out so hard I'm sure I was snoring and sputtering because when I woke up half an hour later my pillow was soaked with drool. Don't make those faces, you all drool when you sleep hard. Don't pretend you don't.

At ten I transferred myself from the couch to the bed. Kids were still up, husband was still painting. Not me. I had this overwhelming desire to sleep like a dead person.

Not to be. I woke up ever half hour or so. I couldn't get comfortable, the dreams were bad, my neighbor was gunning his motorcycle again. Always something. The fitful night finally ends and I wake up exhausted from chasing down an orphan girl in my dream - an orphan girl that turned out to be my daughter at an earlier age. Well, how could she be an orphan if I was still alive, my dream self wondered. And then she came and sat with me, next to a reflection pool that had been emptied of water, but whose cement floor was scattered with pennies and dimes turned blue from chlorine.

I almost wasn't here, you know, she says to me.
I know, I say. I'm glad you are.

And that was that. Orphan girl/daughter got up and walked away, stopping every few feet to pick up a faded coin.

I wake myself up thinking about that line, I almost wasn't here, you know. And that much is true. I had some complications late in the third month of my pregnancy with Nat. The problems were enough to warrant the fear that I was having a miscarraige. When I told my then husband about it, he immediately started making plans for the money we would save by not having a baby.

I remember this distinctly. Driving down Fifth Street, towards our apartment, in his yellow Subaru wagon he inhereted from his older brother. I was wearing loose black pants and a long t-shirt. Even at just three months, my belly had already started to swell. I had black Converse low-tops on my feet and those feet were rested on the passenger side dashboard, because I was supposed to keep the lower half of my body elevated, which seemed a bit ridiculous to me because if I was going to miscarraige, gravity wasn't going to make much of a difference.

It made my heart hurt just a bit to hear him treat our child-to-be with such indifference and I said so. It's not a child, he said. It's just a...thing. It's just a three month old thing.
That thing eventually healed itself and made its way out of my body and became our daughter and there were times when I was in that delivery room, pushing and sweating and cursing, that I wanted to remind him of the moment when he referred to this baby as a thing, but I couldn't, because he wasn't there. Wasn't his thing, is what he said. Not a delivery room kind of man.

So I was there alone when the monitors went crazy and the oxygen mask came out of nowhere and I had this absurd moment when I thought I was on a crashing plane and the masks were popping from the ceiling, but that was probably the Demerol speaking.

I had no idea what I was doing, I realized at some point. I wished I could rely on my Lamaze lessons, but the husband wouldn't go to those because he had better things to do and I couldn't go alone because, towards the end of the pregnancy, I didn't quite fit behind the wheel of my Mustang or his Subura and I depended on him to drive me everywhere, but everywhere did not include a few lessons designed to make childbirth easier. So I wasn't sure how to breathe and I wasn't sure how to find some comfort in this physical nightmare, and the nurses just wanted to pump me full of Demerol and give me way too much of that epidural.

Just a little, I want to be able to push, I told them. Two minutes later, I was numb from the pelvic area down. There would be no pushing.

You could today put me on an empty cruise ship in the middle of a vast ocean and I would feel less alone than I did in that hospital room.

The rest is a blur of motion and fear, soundtracked by a too-fast beeping monitor, a barking nurse and my puzzlement that my own OB/G had yet to show up. It was when I saw the forceps, oversized and ominous, and knew those forceps were headed for a space between my legs, that I nearly passed out. They threw an oxygen mask on my face and told me to shut up and calm down.

I asked them to please let my husband in the room. Not because I wanted his comfort, but because I wanted to rip his balls off for leaving me alone like this. The nurse shook her head disapprovingly when she realized my husband did not take his little course that would have allowed him in the room.

So there I was, alone, and they were using scissors or something very much like them to slice open my va-- well, they call it an episiotomy. Eventually, my baby girl, the thing, as my husband called her, decided she had enough and made her appearance kicking, screaming and red faced.

Later they wheeled me out to another room and my husband, whom my sisters had to go find to tell him that his daughter had introduced herself to the world, was holding the baby and while other new mothers might be overwhelmed with joy at this sight, all I wanted to do was crush his heart into tiny, bleeding pieces.

Which I did, six years later. Six years and another child too late, I know.

It wasn't really that particular day that warped and molded me into the person I am today, but the six years that passed from that day until October of 1996 when I finally realized that I had, indeed, given birth to a thing; a weird version of myself, that is. Like Frankenstein's monster or anything created out of a vulgar hatred for yourself, a mutated personality is born and it's not until someone performs an intervention of sorts and shows you a mental film clip of that monster that you realize what you created.

So now, almost eight years after that six year period of gestation, the monster has been slain and the place from which I got the body parts is mostly a distant planet, still viewable off in the far reaches of time, but a safe mileage away.

It's good to keep the telescope out, as I have done. It's good to look at that place every once in a while and remember the monster that existed there; the thing that walked the earth on its own accord, powered by anger and fueled by self-loathing and a hatred for most everything in its path.

Packing yesterday, I found a stack of some mix CDs I made. In my usual haphazard fashion, none of them were labeled. I grabbed a handful of discs so I could check them out on the way to work, to see what kind of music was on them.

The first disc struck me like the proverbial hammer. Damn, I was angry. There was one song - a slow, hard sludge-rock song - that acted like a zoom lens on that telescope and I saw it all so clearly, if from a safe distance. And I felt it, too. It's amazing what one simple song can do to bring back everything associated with it; every single feeling and emotion, every moment of the creeping death of who you were and the slow crawl to what you are.

If I've learned one thing over the years, its that anger at the world and anger at one specific person are two entirely different animals, and while neither one is particularly productive, at least you can act upon your anger at the world with productive action, while acting upon your anger at a person will only land you a restraining order.

As with most of my rambling reminiscences, this started out as something else - at first it was one of those dedication posts (Faith wanted me to write about the Michele that she knows, which is in some ways different from the Michele that most of you know, as she knows me outside this box), then it was going to answer some questions about blogging, and then it was supposed to be about abortion and the rally in D.C. yesterday, but it turns out its about all of that and more - you just have to read between the lines to get to it.

And there's a lot more to this story, if you want to know it. I'd be more than happy to write it down if you put it in the form of a request accompanied by a donation to SOA.

I'm not a whore, I just play one for charity

Chris Muir Joins the VC!

Sure, the Liberty Alliance may have scord Cox & Forkum, but the Victory Coalition is now sleeping with Chris Muir! Thanks to the generosity of Day by Day © creator Chris Muir, The Victory Coalition is proud to offer for auction an autograph copy of a printed version of this strip: This is only the second time Chris has offered an autograph strip, so hurry and put in those offers while it's still available. Everyone knows that someday soon, Chris and the cast of Day by Day will be world famous. So when Damon is gracing the pages of your city's newspaper, and you're in your local diner having a morning cup of coffee and a bunch of people are discussing the latest Day By Day strip, you can turn around and say, Yea, I've got an autographed Muir hanging in my living room. I rule. Damn skippy. Get right over there and find out how to enter your bid in the auction. Thanks, Chris! [Speaking of Day by Day, today's strip is one of those "that's about me!" strips]

April 26, 2004


For those who asked: The Spirit of America challenge ends Thursday. Normal blogging (meaning an absence of requests, questions and pleadings) will resume then. If you would like to further complain about the quality of blogging in this place, or if you would like to have some kind of say in what I post about and how often I do it, feel free to drop a nice chunk of cash in my Paypal account (link over on the left), then I'll call you boss and we'll talk. Until then, don't whine if it's not your dime. Know what I'm saying?

23, 24, 25: Heather, Sully and Vodka Puke

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. All the questions are in one happy place. 23. Steve asks: What does the phrase "What is your damage?" mean, and what made it famous? I genuinely do not know. What's your damage, Heather? 24. Coalition member Dork (who is offering up his culinary skills in return for an SOA donations) asks: Do you check your referral logs? And if so, what is the weirdest referral you've ever gotten? (this includes search engine queries) Yes, I check my referral logs religiously. Not for numbers, but to see where people are coming from. It's always good to get a heads up in the morning by checking your stats and seeing you've had some Kos visitors. Your best offense is a good defense, and the referrers page is like having Nettles at third. I've had some great search engine referrals. But you want weird? Just the other day I got this one: Andrew Sullivan took my gay kid away. I come at number two, right behind Sully himself. And it leads to a post in which I mention that I had a dream about him playing volleyball in his underwear. #25 Esteemed blogger and Vodka Pundit guest blogger asks: How much hurl would a Steve Green chuck, if a Steve Green would chuck hurl? (He would, BTW.) Well, I don't know about you Colorado boys, but around these parts, hurl is vomit. So, after I did the dry heave thing a for a few moments thinking about Steve throwing puke around, I got down to business and did the calculations. Figuring in height, weight, stamina and age, then doing some scientific calculations based on everything Andy has every told me about Steve, and taking into consideration that Will would probably be there, making sure the consistency of the hurl was just right, Steve would be able to chuck 3.24 quarts of hurl, if said hurl was in a plastic container and not a metal one. And by chuck I mean throw, and not throw up, but throw around, so imagine Steve and crew sitting around the Denver Press club, covered in puke and laughing about it. while Jeff Goldstein blogs the whole thing, but uses 80's new wave lyrics to tell the story. No wonder Ken Layne wants nothing to do with you guys. Hey, it just so happens that Dork is in Colorado! Maybe he should cook for that big blogger bash. Alright, we are a quarter way through and it's only been like twelve hours! I either have to answer more questions at a time or stop packing for a bit.

Station break/Victory Coalition News

Just got home from work, must take care of dinner, kids and some packing and then it's back to the questions. Keep asking, I'll keep answering! And we've got something super-duper special coming up. Victory will be ours! Click the image to head over to Captain Kevin's house and see what we've been up to. And aspiring writers - DO NOT MISS Gerard Van der Leun's offer on behalf of the VC. It's killer and I just may bid on it myself. You can catch up on all of today's questions here.

16 through 22: stupidity, bravery, sweet revenge, pussies, flirting lessons

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. I decided to use the category thingamajig, so now all the questions are in one happy place. Christine asks, via email: 16. People often mistake stupidity for bravery. Have you ever done anythign that would fit into that category? Why, yes I have Christine. And it was recorded right here on this very site for posterity. Then the frat boy in the passenger seat speaks. To me, no less. He looks at me and says, smirking "Maybe if these people kept their tards at home we wouldn't have to sit here in freaking traffic, ya know?" He looks at me as if he expects an agreement. I am stunned. I am horrified Read my story of brave stupidity here. While we are digging around the archives, Charles wants to know (#17)what my favorite MTX album is. bq. This particular CD alone (Revenge is Sweet, that is), is at once so sad and so happy that you don't exactly know what you feel when you hear the songs, all you know is that you do laugh or grin and you realize afterwards that you were actually laughing or grinning at yourself and the angst and tremor with which you pursued love. Check that out here. Alan K. (not to be confused with my TCP partner and bad music lover, Alan) asks a bunch of questions that I'm not going to answer and a few that I will. Sorry, Alan, but asking which nipple I favored when my kids were nursing is just weird and, well....there are sites for people like you. $14.95 a year, but it might be worth it to avoid having to type that stuff into search engines. 18. Have you ever had the urge to cat blog? That would be odd, seeing as that I would have to go out and get a cat first. I did, however, tell Laurence - the king of cat blogging - that when I move we're going to look into the cat thing so I can finally show him my pussy. 19. What were you thinking of when DJ was conceived? Faster, please. 20. Can you justify your existence? No. 21. Does DJ have a crush? He's eleven and hitting puberty at full steam. He'll crush on any girl with boobs bigger than mosquito bites. 22. Name him. Who Him? DJ's crush? If you haven't figured out that DJ is a boy by now, you haven't been paying attention. Perhaps you think DJ might be gay, which really isn't unheard of as everyone in my family at one time or another has said, that boy has got to be gay. Between the showtunes and the cross-dressing we figured it was a given. DJ did announce to us, just about two years ago, that he was gay. I had then made plans to ship him off to Choire's for a week or so to get a crash course in Being the Perfect Gay Guy. Then he got all hetero on us. Appropriate story reprinted below, below because Raising Hell has gone to the big archives in the sky. Flirting Lessons (June, 2002) Scene: Restaurant/pizza place where we are enjoying DJís baseball teamís end-of-season party. The boys are in the front of the restaurant, by the door, so they can escort in anyone who shows up and lead them to the back room we have taken over. I am sitting in the back room with some of the other parents. One mom walks in and gives me that look. The look that says ďdo you have any idea what your son is doing?Ē Believe me, I have seen that look enough to recognize it instantly. ďDo you have any idea what your son is doing?Ē she says, predictably. ďDo I want to know?Ē ďHe is standing at the front door trying to pick up a 17 year old girl.Ē ďThatís pretty interesting because just yesterday he announced to us that heís gay. For the second time.Ē ďHeís nine.Ē ďHe likes attention.Ē ďWell, this girl is giving him plenty.Ē A discussion follows about DJís declaration and whether I take it seriously or not. We walk up front and not only is DJ doing some serious flirting with this beautiful girl, but she is flirting back with him. And the other boys are taking notes. I tell the boys to come in the back room and I give the girl a look that says Iím sorry at the same time as please donít encourage him. Thereís a an opening in the far wall in the back room. It overlooks the dining room. The girl is seated at a table, facing us. DJ peeks over the wall and waves. She waves back. Her friends laugh. DJís friends look at him in awe. The girl is encouraging him, the friends are encouraging him, the other parents Iím with are laughing. This goes on through most of the party, except for the part where the coach got up and said a few funny and nice things about each kid and I was almost afraid to hear what he would say about DJ. But that turned out ok. Finally, the party is over. Iím leading DJ out, and the girl calls out to him. ďHey, cutie! You leaving so soon?Ē She winks at him. He winks back. ďGotta go. Got school tomorrow.Ē Yea, THIRD GRADE! , I'm thinking. He stares the girl for a second and says, while batting his eyes, ďBye, sweetie pie. Hope I see your beautiful eyes again someday.Ē Where he got that line from, I have no idea. But it sure made an impression with the 17 year old because she looked like she was going to melt. She waves a wistful goodbye to him and blows him a kiss. We get outside and one of the other parents says to DJ, ďI thought you were gay?Ē ďWhat can I say,Ē he says. ďIím just a confused kid.Ē Sometimes I really donít know what to make of him. I imagine that strangers have even a harder time figuring him out. Sure, heís got quirks, but at least they are entertaining quirks.

13, 14, 15: the perfect score

Damn, this isn't just going to take all day, it's going to take all of about three days. Patience grasshoppers. Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. bq. 13. A different Bill asks: Do you write "perfect" posts in your head while doing other menial tasks (like laundry, running errands), then get pissed off when you finally get to the computer and can't remember the perfect way you worded a statement in your head earlier? And as a followup, how many times a day do you wish you had a tape recorder to record these thoughts for later? Most of my "perfect" posts are written while driving or while in the shower. And then I get to the computer and sit down to type it out and poof, it's all gone. Or, it's still there, but it's not nearly as perfect, groundbreaking or phenomenal as I thought it was when it was writing itself out in my mind. Somtimes I'll come up with a turn of the phrase that is so genius I pat myself on the back, only to forget it as soon as I hit the keyboard. Of course it pisses me off, hence all the dents on the desk from where I continually bang my head in frustration. I'm a genius in my own mind and I don't even have the proof. As for the tape recorder - no. I hate the sound of my own voice and having to listen to myself repeat ideas back to me would just be too weird and unsettling - the voices in my head are number enough without having to add one more. Keeping with the blogging theme: Lesley asks: 14. What do you do when you can't for the life of you think of something to blog about? I have people ask me questions! Seriously, I have a special links list a mile long called "things to blog about when you have nothing to blog about." I rarely use it as my mind is the kind that never rests, not even in sleep and there's always something at the tip of my brain, ready to escape and be put into words. Of course, I have yet to learn to edit my wandering mind and I often times will blog things that were better left unblogged. 15. 38C. Give or take, depending on the day of the month.

Questions 10, 11, 12: White Men Can't Drive

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. Another note: please limit your questions. One person asking 100 questions is not what we had in mind. If you've asked more than three questions, I reserve the right to pick and choose which ones I will answer. Also, they are being answered at random, not in any particular order. Clyde asks: 10. what are your top 5 tv shows? 11. what kind of computer do you use? 12. what's your commute like? My favorite shows change frequently. Depends on my mood and also depends on where a show is at - meaning sometimes I will get bored with a story arc or think that a show has not been funny for a few episodes, so I'll ignore it for a while and get back to it. That said, my favorite shows as of right this moment are: * The Chappelle Show * Aqua Teen Hunger Force (let's just throw in all of Adult Swim here) * Simspons (including the nightly repeats) * Unwrapped (Food Network) * The History Channel in general Computer. At home I use a Sony Vaio - it's one of two Vaios in the house and we'll never use anything else, we love it that much. The laptop is a Dell Latitude and it rocks, mostly because of how it came to be mine. Commute. My commute is all of six miles and looks like a straight line, with just a few, slight curves. One road all the way there, basically. Should take ten minutes, tops, right? So why does it take me a good half hour to get to work every day? I'll tell you why. Long Island must have the largest ratio of bad to good drivers in the world. I'd say it's like 80:1. And of those 80, about 70% are at the age where they should have their eyes gouged out before they are allowed behind the wheel again , 20% are 21year old white guys blasting hip-hop that may as well be a foreign language to them and driving while smiling at themselves in the mirror, and the rest are cell-phone yapping housewives in Hummers who have no clue about anything outside of their compartmentalized world, incuding the fact that people might actually be driving on the same roads as them.

Question #9: Talkin' Baseball

JAB asks: 9. What was the most perfect baseball game you have ever attended? Believe it or not, it wasn't a Yankee game. It was 1983. The Mets sucked. Not just sucked, but sucked in that slurping, gurlging way a toilet bowl sucks when it's washing your shit into the sewer system. Being a Yankee fan/Met hater, I found myself thoroughly enjoying the complete collapse of the team. And, being a Braves fan at the time, I enjoyed the Mets' demise in a that My NL Team is Better Than Your NL Team way, which was almost as good as enjoying it in the time-honored My New York Team is Better Than Your New York Team manner. bq. (ed note: Mets statistics for 1983: 68-94, Finished 6th in NL Eastern Division. It was Strawberry's rookie year. Braves stats for 1983: 88-74, Finished 2nd in NL Western Division. Dale Murphy hit 36 home runs that year) So it's summertime and the living is easy. I have some menial job I tend to at night. During the day, my job is to drink beer, listen to music and taunt Met fans at Shea Stadium. So July comes around and the Braves are coming to Shea. Four of us pack up a cooler of goodies and head to the Big Blow Toilet Bowl in Queens. (actually, I believe this was pre-BBTB days, I forget when the painted the place). We went to a lot of Met games. The bleachers were empty. The sun was good. The beer was plentiful, as the beer guy had no one to sell his wares to besides us and was at our constant beck and call. And this day was no different. It could have been a Wednesday, I'm not sure. I just know it was a weekday game and I'm pretty sure the Mets won. Doesn't matter. It was a perfect weather day, Kevin caught a foul ball, we got drunk enough to taunt the Met players but not drunk enough to say anything to get us thrown out, and Dale Murphy nodded and tipped his cap toward us when we cheered every time he touched the ball. It wasn't a baseball purist's idea of a great game, by any means - I can't even remember who won - but it was, indeed, the most perfect day I ever spent in the stands at a ballpark.

Back to the Questions: 5, 6, 7, 8

Note: this post is part of today's Spirit of America challenge. To find out what's going on and what you missed already and how to join in, please start here and scroll up. 5. Kelli asks: Okay, here's one: what did you throw at your tv yesterday when the Red Sox swept the Yankees home series, and what were you shouting as you threw it? (Is that two?) I was too depressed to throw anything, but not so downtrodden that I couldn't muster up the energy to scream "What the hell is your damage, Torre?" After which I could be heard cursing the idiotic Yankee fans who booed Jeter and left the game in droves early on. They remind me of the Islander fans of the early 80's and that's not a compliment. 6, 7 and 8 from fellow Long Islander Rob:
6. Bo and Hope or Luke and Laura? Bo and Hope were dirty. I hated Bo, hated that beard and hated their stupid story lines. Hope had nice lips, that much I remember. Now Luke and Laura, there was a match made in heaven. He rapes her, she marries him. But they were fun, where Bo and Hope were just mired down in dumb plot lines. And while Luke looked like a shorter version of Bob Rossi, Laura was quite pleasing to look at. 7. Stuffing or mashed potatoes? Mashed potatoes made with garlic and sour cream. Serve in a huge helping, making a small valley in the middle of the pile, in which you pour gravy and corn. 8. This August will mark the 30th anniversary of the first time a certain band played their first show in good old NYC. The band is one of the most influential bands ever, although not many realize it. People like Bruce Springsteen and U2 attribute their success directly to them (Bruce's first top 10 hit was actually written for them, and U2 covered several of their songs to get their first recording contract because they had yet to write their own). Who are they?
I need help with this one, guys. Rob wrote to say that the band in question broke up a few years ago, they used stage names and two of them are no longer with us. I'm drawing a blank. Posted by: IgwanaRob at April 26, 2004 09:54 AM


Please keep in mind that the bottom line to all of this is raising money for a good cause. Don't be an idiot about it. And if this all bores you so much, go read another blog. There are millions of them. I'm sure you'll find someone among those other writers who will irritate you less than I. Re: the Sox cap - I'm going to tell you what I've told a million other people today. No one specified what type of Sox gear I was supposed to wear. I had no idea it wasn't a "legit' hat. I sucked it up and did what I said I would do for donations. I did something that literally made me feel ill (ok, slightly ill, I mean - it's just a freaking hat) because it raised money for Spirit of America. Next time be more specific about your request and then I can be more specific when I tell exactly where on my ass to kiss me. Now, where were we?

Questions: 4

The evil leader of our opposition, the retardedly named Fussilli's, left some questions, most of which will go unsanswered because they are either stupid or just him gloating, as is his M.O. I will, however, answer this one: 4. Does it shame you that both our Coalitions resorted to rack pictures because of that damned dirty Queen Of All Evil? That wasn't a rack. It was cleavage. You can see cleavage every day, in every place you go, from church to schools to PTA meetings. It is not illegal nor immoral to show your cleavage and some of us just can't help it as we'd rather not wear high necked sweaters every day. Also, unlike the other members who are posting their rack pictures, that's not what the photo was about. People donated to SOA to see me wear a Red Sox cap, not to see my rack. That issue was never raised, nor will it be. The shot was taken from that angle so I could hide my face, as it is not really a good thing for a Yankee fan to be shown wearing a Sox cap. Make of this what you will, but I did not "resort to rack pictures." No one expected that photo from me, nor did anyone ask for it, nor was anyone asked to donate more money in order for me to pos the photo. Which was generally just me, at an odd angle, wearing a regular, every day shirt. If you guys (and by that I mean both the other alliances) want to resort to selling off pics of your boobs and panties, so be it. I'm going for something more substantial here. Like talking about grits and soap operas. Not that I wouldn't consider writing about anal sex and the president's gay dog for a thousand dollars a week. Just saying. We all have our price.

Questions, #s 2 and 3

First: we are up to $700 in donations for this questions challenge alone! (see here for background, details) We're going to tackle several at a time here. And try to limit it to ONE question per person, please. Thank you. 2. JAB asks: Other than your family or this blog, what has been the biggest compliment someone has paid you? I was in the diner with my two kids, many years ago. The owner of the diner came up to our table and told me that he had never seen two such charming, well behaved children in his life, and proceeded to give them free dessert. I beamed. Good thing they waited until we got into the car and pulled away before they started spitting at each other. 2. Tommy asks: Would you ever wear Sox gear again (excepting charity events, of course)? In a word, no. In two words, fuck no. I'll be nice and tackle all of Skillzy's but, due to the nature of the charitable end of this challenge, I'm only counting them as one questions.
3. * Is Alex Rodriguez overpaid? * Have you ever eaten grits? * Can Eli Manning save the Giants? * Aren't Southern accents shexy as hell? * Who's your favorite NASCAR driver? * What's so funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding?
Yes. Yes. Grits with cheese, butter and salt is the breakfast of Gods. Dude, the Giants play in Jersey. Nothing can save them. Ever. Not even the lesser of two Mannings. Southern accents are better than New England accents, that's for sure. I prefer mid-western accents, to be honest. Unless someone is going to pay me to watch those cars go 'round and 'round and 'round, you'll never catch me watching NASCAR. So I couldn't give you an answer to that, unless the answer is: none. And as I walked on Through troubled times My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes So where are the strong And who are the trusted? And where is the harmony? Sweet harmony. Where is the harmony? Where is the love? Nothing funny at all, Skillz. Nothing at all.

Questions, Questions #1

Let's get started, shall we? 1. Spd Rdr asks: When do you sleep? Imagine Wile E. Coyote hunting the Roadrunner. He stalks, he chases, he buys all kinds of Acme equipment, determined to catch that damn bird. Then imagine that one day he catches the Roadrunner, sliced, dices and bakes it, only to discover that all the rumors he heard about roadrunners tasting like chicken are false. In fact, it tastes like crap and leaves a bitter aftertaste his mouth that never disappears. That, for me, is sleep. I chase sleep constantly; I am frequently tired, even exhausted, but when it comes time to bury my head in the pillow and rest my weary bones, all I get is wicked, vivid dreams that leave me exhausted upon waking and thinking all day of my nightmares. I try to sleep at a normal time. Most nights I make it through most of Adult Swim, which means I fall asleep somewhere around 12:30 or so, closer to 1am on Sunday nights. I get up at at about 5am or so. Sometimes I'll catch a twenty minute nap when I get home from work, and sometimes I'll pass out at 7pm in the middle of flipping channels, only to wake up at 7:20 feeling like I slept ten hours. I'm not a big fan of sleep. I'm a big fan of the concept of sleep, however. If I could find a way to do it so that I a) don't dream and b) can pack all the sleep I need into an hour's time, I'd be more inclined to enjoy it. One down, 99 to go.

Ask me, ask me, ask me*

I have three takers on the matching funds for Ask a Blogger day! One of my favorite commenters, Spd Rdr has matched the hundred. Another of my favorite people, Brian, has vowed to match the hundred and go up to 150. And the beloved Captain of the Victory Coalition has matched my hundred as well. That's $450 for Spirit of America IF I get one hundred questions asked of me today. Please see the post below for details and get asking (and linking). *So, if there's something you'd like to try If there's something you'd like to try ASK ME - I WON'T SAY "NO" - HOW COULD I ? I should mention that the questions will be answered five at a time, so I don't have one hundred separate posts sitting here, unless I determine that a question warrants it's own novella-size post. Come on, people. I want at least one hundred questions here by NOON! I went all out and put on enemy clothing last night - all you have to do is ask ONE questions. Just one. Doesn't cost you anything but the workout of a few brain cells. Update: Lesley, a Yankee fan! - has matched and exceeded with $200. JFH, who has already donated a generous amount - chimes in with another $50!

The Victory Coaltion Brings You: Ask a Blogger Monday!

I need not remind you that the Spirit of America coalition is in full swing still, and we need your donations. Kevin has the latest roundup on the tallies, the offers and the news. One of the "special requests" that came to me via a donation to SOA (I will write on the subject of your choice if you donate in the name of the VC) is this one: bq. What I would like is for you to open a post to your readers where they ask you questions about blogging and you answer them. And if they don't have any questions about blogging, they can ask questions about you. And maybe you can make an about page from those answers. An About Blogging page and an About the Author page. Ok? Ok. Use the comments. I'll answer as many as I can and do as requested. The contributor also requested that I answer all questions honestly regardless of how tacky, tasteless or offensive the subject matter may be and I'll try to do that, but I think I can trust most of you not to be tacky, tasteless or offensive here. Right? I'm gonna throw in this as well: For every question asked that I can provide a decent answer to, I will throw in a dollar for SOA. If one hundred of you ask me a question, that means another hundred dollars for the SOA. If anyone wants to match this, that would be fantastic. I'd like to hit the 10k mark today - here's where we are at. So, I guess today is Ask the Blogger Monday, which is fine as I was going to write about something else that I'd rather put on the back burner for now. Ask away.

April 25, 2004

Dedication #11: The enemy, Suppuko, Red Sox

How devoted am I to the SOA/VC cause? Just look below. There is not one person in the other coalitions who has sacrificed as much as I just did. Smash doesn't count because he risked his life in Iraq before this whole challenge.

Do you know what it is like for a life long Yankees fan/Red Sox hater to wear the emblem of the dreaded enemy? It's like killing just a little piece of yourself. If I were a samurai, I'd be all about the seppuko, driving the blade in my stomach to the hilt right now. Good thing I'm not a samurai, eh?

I did this with my head held high, though. It was all in the name of a noble cause.

I will keep telling myself that.

Forgive me, Thurman Munson.

click for horribly large size

I need to shower with steel wool now.

Dedication #10: I've been waiting so long

Hey, I found a Red Sox cap to wear. My dad had one. Stupid Met fan. But that will have to wait until later. For anyone who donated to SOA today in the hopes of seeing my talented, young son play the guitar, here you go. Just remember: he's only eleven, he's been playing just a couple of months, and the song you can see him playing here, Sunshine of Your Love, is self-taught. click image to play quicktime movie - it'sa 46 second clip Thanks for you donation to the cause. I have to go put that stupid Sox cap on now.

Dedication #9: Bally Girl

I really, really hope you don't mind repeats as requests. Most of the request-ees have been good about that, as a good portion of them haven't been reading here long enough for anything to be a repeat for them. We've got a baseball game today (and don't forget, my son will throw strikeouts in YOUR name, if you donate to SOA) and dinner at my parents' house and we get to move stuff into the garage of the new house today, even though we aren't moving in until May 10th or so. Matthew asked me to post about arcade games and/or Neil Gaiman. For now, I'll give him my old post about playing pinball but, because that's not really what he meant (I think he meant 80's type Arkanoid, Asteroids, etc.) I'll give him an original post on Neil Gaiman later on today/tonight. Story below.

lost youth memories: pinball wizard

pinball.jpgI was about 13 years old when I first entered the Palace. I was a tag-a-long to an older friend who was going there just to score a nickel bag. Pinball Palace was a small, almost hidden place, tucked between the Jerry Lewis Movie theater and a specialty bra shop. From the outside, it looked forbidden and dangerous, two things that combined to point a beckoning finger at me. Gina opened the door and I followed, knowing that this was exactly the kind of place my parents warned me about. As soon as we stepped inside my brain went into sensory overload. The smell hit me first; cigarettes and pot and teenage sweat swirling together in the dank heat of the Palace. The noises. The clacking of pool bools as someone yelled break!; the dings and and whistles of the twenty or so pinball machines that lined the walls; the cursing of the bikers at the pool table; the jangling of quarters in the pockets of Levis; the fist banging on the glass as a machine cried out TILT! It was all underscored by Led Zeppelin's Trampled Under Foot shouting from the jukebox, and the combination of those sounds became my own Pied Piper, begging me to follow. I was hesitant that first day and just hung in back of Gina while she made a deal with guy at the change counter. When she was done, we went behind the movie theater, smoked a joint, and then snuck in the back door of the theater. They were showing Shampoo. We watched Warren Beatty, naked on the floor and humping the daylights out the poor girl underneath him and all I remember is a person was watching them through a window and said something like "Now that's what I call fucking!" Gina sat gaping at the screen, taking in every word, every movement, probably taking notes in her head, and all I could think about was going back to Pinball Palace. The next Saturday, Gina took me with her for another buy. This time, I brought quarters. While Gina flirted with her dealer, I made the walk towards the machine in the far corner. The Bally Wizard. I slowly put the quarter in, knowing full well that I would become addicted to the flashing lights and turning numbers. The quarter dropped. I hit the reset button. The silver ball popped into place and I slowly pulled back the lever, feeling the resistance of the coiled spring. I let go. The tip of the lever and the metal ball connected and as that ball went around the curve on its journey towards the playing field, it took with it my grades, my social life, my allowance. From the first loud ding when the ball rang up my first score, I was obsessed. My fingers worked the flippers as deftly as the lady in the school office worked the typewriter. I moved this way and that, swinging my hips and nudging the machine a little to the left, a little to the right, careful not to piss it off enough to make it tilt. My eyes darted between the ball and the scoreboard and my heart skipped a beat as I saw the paper taped to the top of the glass with the high scores for the week listed. My name would be up there one day. Yes, it would. Gina had to drag me out of the Palace. Even when my quarters ran out, I wanted to stay and watch the masters play, the guys who turned over the numbers on the scoreboard, the guys who could smoke and drink and play at the same time. And then it wasn't just Saturdays anymore. I started walking there after school. If Gina wouldn't go there was always someone else willing to hang out and watch me play pinball with me instead of going home. We would throw a few quarters into the jukebox (three plays for twenty five cents!), and play the same line up each time. Led Zeppelin. Todd Rundgren. Deep Purple. Sometimes I would ask my mother for a ride to the library and when she pulled away after dropping me off, I would run across Front Street and duck into the Pinball Palace. I rationalized my lying. I wasn't out doing drugs - no respectable 13 year old considered pot a real drug, not when the bad kids were doing angel dust - and I wasn't out getting pregnant like Mrs. Winslow's daughter. I was just playing pinball. The frequency of my trips to the Palace waned when winter dug its heels in and no one wanted to walk that far. Occasionally, we would get a ride to the movie theater and slip inside the Palace instead. Each time I walked through those doors was like the first; the smell, the sounds, the pumping of my adrenaline would all be new again. They closed Pinball Palace before the good walking weather came back. Neighbors were complaining. Community action groups were picketing. Churches were praying for the souls of the kids caught up in the glare of those flashing lights. They claimed Pinball Palace was a haven for dirty, unkempt teenagers who cursed and drank and smoked. It was stealing the life and soul of the community's young adults. And then, it was gone. I cried, I mourned, I laid in bed at night, my fingers twitching to imaginary flippers, the game playing out in my mind. We had to find another place. That summer, my parents sprung the news on me that they were taking me out of the "terrible" public school system. They didn't like my friends. They didn't like my attitude. Catholic high school would surely lead me on the path to a righteous life. I would make new friends, they said, friends that wouldn't drag me to those filthy pinball places, friends who wore skirts and ties and gave their quarters to the collection basket instead of machines. By the end of the second week at the new school, I had made a few new friends just like my parents wanted me to. Momlet me stay after school each day and take the late bus home, assured that I was sitting quietly in the cafeteria with my new virtuous friends studying and doing homework. Not quite. See, the 7-11 across the street from school held a deep dark secret in its back corner. A Bally Wizard pinball machine. My new friends, who hated ties and skirts and hoarded their quarters like gold, would watch me play for hours each day, taking bets on whether I would break the high score or not. I had a following. I was the Pinball Wizard. Catholic school was working out just fine. Sure, 7-11 wasn't quite the same as the smoke-filled palace. But Kevin did bring along a portable cassette player each day and we listened to Genesis and Todd Rundgren while I swished and swayed and occassionally tilted. Pinball eventually gave way to other video games; Asteroids and Galaga and Space Invaders. Arcades started popping up everywhere. My pinball skills were no longer celebrated, I was a has-been, a thing of the ancient past. I never regret all those hours and quarters spent feeding my pinball frenzy. I never regret the time spent learning the exact angles of each machine, or feeling the excitement when my name went up on the high score chart. My mother always told me that I was wasting away my life playing those games, that I would never get anything useful out of it. Hah. What does she know? If it wasn't for those quick relfexes and incredible hand-eye coordination I developed at Pinball Palace, I would have never kicked my son's ass at House of Dead 2 the other day.

Is My Life Really This Meaningless?

BOO-YA! I passed Drudge on the Ecosystem! [click for self-important size] Flame Fame is fleeting. Especiall blog-related fame. I'll take the ego boost while I can. Look out Charles, I'm crawling up your ass! Figuratively, of course. [Thanks to Ed for the tip]

v-bay: Where else can a little league game get you laid?

programming note: all dedication posts (posts made to order in return for donations to SOA) can be found here Click below to discover all the new, exciting offers available to you through v-Bay- The Victory Coalition Auctions, Goods and Services program designed to help you earn great rewards for your donation to Spirit of America in the name of our alliance. We have such diverse offerings as a personal Cajun Chef, blog hosting and design, book publication services, free ads, music, donuts and me in Red Sox gear. Look, we don't bare our breasts, we don't have airline tickets to give away and we haven't been risking our lives for you in Iraq, but we believe that Quantity is Job One. And when you think about it, what does a bared breast get you? Five seconds of thrill? When you compare that to someone coming to your home and cooking you a genuine Cajun dinner, or a month of free ads for your blog, or music to soothe your soul, we're talking about lingering satisfaction here. Sure, you could own a piece of Lt. Smash's shrapnel fragments or the hat he wore while he blogged the war from Iraq. WhatEVER. Wouldn't you rather see me in a Mets or Red Sox cap? I'm selling my soul to the devil for you here! And look at all these posts I've written - I don't skimp on my dedications, people. I go all out for you. Today, I'll be offering grab bags of stuff I don't want to take with me in the Big Move. And a mix CD of my favorite songs complete with an annotation sheet and liner notes. And my son - that's right, my eleven year old son - has promised to play Creem's Sunshine of Your Love on the guitar, which I will record, for the first person that donates 25 bucks in his name. Not only that, but he promises to dedicate today's Little League game to the first person who donates 20 dollars in the VC's name today. He'll be pitching, so each strikeout he throws will be IN YOUR NAME! Line up around that water cooler, baby. They'll be talking about you for days. Oh, this will be sure to get you laid. I could do this all day, you know. I would give away my very soul for this. Blackened as it may be. Give. Give now. And when you give, send an email to myself or Kevin stating which prize package you qualify for/would like. Thank you, and enjoy your Sunday.

April 24, 2004

Dedication #8: It is teh funny

This is actually a part of another dedicated post (the depressing songs) but we'll still call it number eight for continuity purposes. Perhaps the author of the request meant funny as in that song about going to camp and not liking it but then liking it in the end, but that's not what I think of because frankly, I find that song really irritating. So perhaps we should say humorous songs, as in songs that make me feel naughty for giggling at them. I could have just dipped right into the Anal C*nt catalog, but there's funny and there's offensive, and sometimes I don't know the difference between the two, but you do and singing about Hitler listening to Morrissey might not be exactly what you're looking to find here. * Bloodhound Gang - Three Point One Four. Also known as Vagina. Why? Because it's about....vaginas! I need to find a new vagina, Any kind of new vagina, It's hard to rhyme a word like vagina, Calvin Klein? Kinda.. North Carolina They even throw in NOFX and Janeane Garafalo. That's talent, man! Rest of the lyrics here. And remember: BHG is the antidote to everything. * Nerf Herder - Van Halen. (Nerf Herder is also responsible for Pantera Fans in Love and Doing Laundry, both of which would be on this list if it were longer) This song is not only humorous, but it speaks to me. Is this what you wanted, Sammy Hagar? Sammy Hagar, is this what you wanted, man? Dave lost his hairline but you lost your cool buddy Can't drive 55 I'll never buy your lousy records again Again, again, again, never again It's funny, I laugh. And then I cry. * Anthrax - I'm the Man (1987 version) Ok, so you're drunk on some really cheap tequila and you're in some dank bar celebrating your birthday and you're thinking, dam I'm 25 and all my friends are getting married and having kids and how fucking depressing is that I'm getting so old, and then someone drags you out of the bar and you're sitting in '78 Camaro with some people who you really don't know but you're pretty sure you know them from college and one of them pops in a cassette (you always pop in a cassette, you know. You don't put it in, or insert it, you pop it) and this song comes on. And then you're giggling like someone just told a slew of fart jokes and you walk around for the next twenty plus years saying things like Point! Point! Watch the Beat! God, I love Anthrax. Ok, that's only three, but I'm tired and frustrated because I know I uploaded these three songs, but they don't seem to be here. While I go upload, you can come up with a few more, ok? Thanks.

watch your backizzle

The Snoop Dogg death watch begins.

Dedication #7: [insert question here]

Well, this person made a rather nice donation to the cause, and I promised in return I would post on a subject of their choice. The person graciously agreed to my request that I not write the question here, just the answers. Allah Treacher Andy Jeff Goldstein Mikey D Mike Windy Eight was a weird number to choose. But there it is. And don't ask. And to answer the other part of your question? Rammstein's Stripped or Type O Negative's Love You to Death.

Dedication #6: Primary Depression Songs

This post brought to you by the Victory Coalition: Where quantity is job one! Two generous donors to the SOA/CV cause requested - in return for their donations - lists. I'll handle these things one a time. First up: Name the five most depressing songs you know. Not songs that are depressing in nature, but are depressing to you. I am the queen of depressing songs, ranging all the way back to my youth when I spent several days crying that Billy Joe McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchee Bridge. Of course, I didn't know Billy Jo personally (ok, so I thought he was real at the time), so that makes the song a secondary depression song, meaning that I am getting all morose over someone else's problems. Primary depression songs are a different animal. They don't even have to be sad - they just have to remind one of of a really sad time in your life, like when mother said your kitty died but then you find out that she sold it to some Korean restaurant for ten dollars. Mostly PD songs are the ones you had on repeat for days on end while you curled up on your bedroom floor and swore that you would never, ever love again. I wasn't even a teenager when I did that. It was like....six years aog and was the result of a horrible communication mix up which is a story that I may tell someday if you ask nicely, but ended up ok because I'm married to him now, but nonetheless, I can't listen to Stabbing Westward's Darkest Days albums without getting that "oh god, I'm gonna throw up my heart" feeling. Five really depressing songs: * Stabbing Westward: Everything I Touch. Ok, the whole album is a therapist's wet dream - but this song in particular makes me sob uncontrollably. Well, it did. Now I listen to it and I just want to smack Chris Hall across the face and say "grow the fuck up, man! Get over it, already!" Because I think he was pining over the same girl for years and if the songs are any indication, she was one of them C-word girl. And then Chris and the band went and made another album after Darkest Days and, well....does that saying quit while you're ahead ring a bell? Holy suckage, Batman. And that's just another reason why this song is so depressing - it marked the end of a really good band and the start of a really sucky one. * Nine Inch Nails - The Great Below (you thought I was gonna say Hurt, right?) * Radiohead- Fake Plastic Trees Just can't explain this one away with a specific incident or even lyric. It just depressing. Beautifully depressing. * Lynyrd Skynyrd - Tuesday's Gone. Shut up. * Sarah McLachlan - Possession You really don't want to go there. Not unless you want to hear a long story about friendship, devotion, death and the Green Bay Packers. It's not a story I feel like telling right now. Honorable mentions (which I will add to as I think of them): Jane's Addiction - Three Days. Have no fear, your Prozac is here. Next up: Funny songs and Feel Good Songs. The lovely SOA contributor asks that you all tell us your most depressing songs as well (or make fun of mine - I swear, that's what the email said) - my only caveat would be that they be Primary Depression Songs, not just sad songs.


Well, not really overheard, as I'm the one who said it. But I thought it was funny. Son: Mom, it's kinda weird that you're 40 years old and still listen to Anthrax. Mom: Hon, Scott Ian is 40 years old and he's still in Anthrax. And that shut him up.

Primary Reinforcement

You know, I've got a lot of stuff to take of tonight - I have people banging down virtual walls waiting for their dedication posts. So what does Alan do? He fires at me. A nasty, ugly shot across the bow. Which means I have to fire back. Enjoy. If not, blame it on Alan. That's what I always do.

summer lovin': packing interlude

goggles.gifPacking is awful. I will build upwards and outwards forty times on the new house before I ever move again. Strolling through Target Tarjay today, my cart overflowing with Rubbermaid containers and cleaning supplies meant to make my packing crusade easier, I made a wrong turn and ended up in the aisle with all the outdoor items; bright coolers, infatlable pool toys, ice buckets in day-glo colors and a myriad of dining accessories that all cried party at our house! I almost worked my way out of the aisle when I had a thought: I have a pool. I have a yard. I have a house. And they are mine. And even though I wasn't there to buy things for the new house, but to purchase things to get out of this one, I tucked a small, bright orange citronella candle into the cart. Just because. We have plans to turn the huge, detached garage into a combo home theater/rec room. I'm thinking some retro decorating is in order. Maybe I'll call Faith on this one. Wow, I think I made it past the stressed-out/freaking about a thirty year mortgage stage and I've moved on to excitement. I think. I'm putting in two more hours of packing today and that's it - then I'll be here to fulfill more SOA/VC related post requests, addressing such issues as Dave Mustaine, Neil Gaiman, more cover songs and a list-o-mania of books and movies. Don't forget, the Victory Coalition still needs you! Update: You can take a photo tour of the new house here.

Memorials and Peace

I ran out to Target this morning to get some packing supplies. On the way home, I was mulling over how I'm still so upset about the whole Pat Tillman episode(s) yesterday. As I took the usual shortcut through the park, I figured out a way to find some peace. I pulled over at field 6A, by the war memorials*. Luckily, I had my camera along for the ride. It's a beautiful day here - the sky is a flawless blue, the air is warm and the sun is just the right degree of comforting. I walked through the short trail that leads up to the memorial, eyeing a cardinal and a few stray geese along the way. Everything is in bloom - the bushes and branches are speckled with buds and the first flowers are slowly showing their colors. I sat on a bench for a few minutes, reading the inscriptions on some of the memorials that scatter the pathway. Beloved husband. Dear son. Brave soldier. All the stones are well cared for. The scattering of leaves and filmy pollen have been recently wiped away. Near each stone sprouts a small batch of flowers - I think they were lillies, I'm not very garden savvy. After savoring a few moments of Zen, I made my way over to the memorial proper. I spent about half an hour walking my way around the momuments and statues, reading names and inscriptions and silently thanking every person these pieces of marble and stone represent. I felt better after leaving there, more at peace. I know it won't last, but I thought I could at least share that peace with you through the photos I took today. It's not much, but it's my offering of thanks to every veteran and every enlisted man and woman. Thank you. You can find the pictures at my photo gallery. I welcome you to leave comments and feedback. [I haven't gotten around to putting remarks on each photo yet - if you have a question as to what is in the photo or anything else about it, just leave a comment with an email address] * I'm going back tomorrow for photos of the Firefighter's memorial. Coming this fall is a 9/11 memorial dedicated to the (too) many Long Islander's who lost their lives on that day. President Bush attended the groundbreaking for that memorial recently.

VC/SOA Update: Where Quantity is Job Number One

Update 4/25: If you are coming here from Blogdex or various other links, please see this newest post for lots of updates and news.


[If you are not familiar with this challenge/beg-fest, please see here for what Spirit of America is all about and then here for background and details on the raising of money for this cause] Your one stop shopping for all your VC needs can be found at Coalition Headquarters, where our beloved Captain is keeping it real for you.

Total RaisedAmount Raised
Castle Argghhh! Fighting Fusileers for Freedom!$10755.50
The Victory Coalition$7718
Liberty Alliance$3314

Hey! Don't you go anywhere - read the rest. Now, soldier! First and foremost, thank you to EVERYONE who has donated to the cause, whether it be the our alliance or the others. While we are having a blast sniping, bickering and backstabbing each other, the bottom line is the money raised for SOA, not which of us raises the most. That's 20k we've raised together. Not too shabby. The spirit of team is nice and all, but let's get down to business: We want to kick butt on Castle Argghhh! I know we can do this if we all just pull together. Maybe if we all hold hands and sing "We are the World" and click our heels together ten times a magic pony will appear and shit out a stack of hundred dollar bills. Come on, let's try! Ok, that's not gonna work, so we'll have to resort to things like bribery and begging. Want to know how to help? Good. * Obviously, give to SOA in the name of Victory Alliance * Don't have money to donate? That's ok, because it's not all about the cash. Just spreading the word about the challenge is considered donation enough. Link it on your wesbite, email your friends, tell your co-workers. You could even dress up as a giant panda and wave signs on a busy street corner. Your call. * Have something you would like to offer as a reward to donors? We are offering up sotries, donuts, music, porn and a Cubs win, among other things, in return for your generosity. Perhaps, if you can't donate (or already have but want to do more) you can offer a service or good that we can use to bribe people into giving. Please, no sex. Future lawsuits would kill us. * Join the coalition. Having your good name behind our efforts will be a boon for us. Plus, if you bring your posse along, that would be dope. Yea, I'm talking to you P-Diddy! So - what are we offering you in return for you donation/help? Besides the self-satisfaction one gets from assisting charitable causes, and aside from that "Get out of Hell Free" card, we have these irons in our fires: * Porn! * Fiction! * Hot Abercrombie Chick pictures! * Personal, dedicated posts with music and photos of me in Red Sox/Mets gear! * Free Freaking Hosting and a Brand New Blog! * Krispy Kreme Donuts! * Music! * moneyback guarantee for Cubs and Red Sox fans! Sure, Smash may be offering up bullets straight from Iraq, but we've got quality and quantity. Here is a list of Coalition members thus far (and I will add the actual links in as soon as Kevin is around and gives me the code so I don't have to do it by hand). This is the Best.Coalition.Ever. Thanks to all of you for joining hands with us. Now, let's sing! A Small Victory As I Please Baseball Crank Blogosapien.com Candy Universe Confessions of a Pilgrim Creative Slips dcthornton.com Dorkafork's Cavalcade of Crap Electric Venom Fine? Why Fine? Mark Time Mind of Mog Nickspace Blog One Fine Jay Overtaken By Events Physics Geek sisu Snooze Button Dreams SportsBlog The American Mind The Argus The Command Post The LLama Butchers Unedited Unspellchecked Unright white pebble Wizbang! I am going to have Yet Another Offer later. Stay tuned. And I will be posting as many dedication posts as I can today, as I pack up for my big move across town. Today's offer will have something to do with that.

April 23, 2004

On Pat Tillman

tillman.jpg 700 soldiers have died and Tillman, for most of us, is a face on those sodliers. We know of him, we've read about him, many of us have seen him play football. For me at least, Tillman represents all the humanity and all the hearts and souls that were taken away from us while we struggle to make this world free and safe And that's why so many of us are crying today. I am deeply saddened by the words I read both here and at Command Post today. The depth of the callousness really took me by suprise. I thought I was past that by now, that nothing the anti-war crowd and far left could do would ever surprise me. How I underestimated their cruelty. It is a gleeful moment for them and they are rallying around Tillman's death like flies on a carcass. Pat Tillman and all the others who died before and with him in the war on terror knew no bounds in their bravery and dedication. They will be remembered for that. Someone else says it better: Sgt Tillman is a hero not because he walked away from the Cardinals, but because of where he walked to. He like all the rest of the Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen, and Coastguardsmen volunteered to put himself between the bad guys and our way of life and fight for its preservation. Rest In Peace Sgt Tillman, your service to our nation is an inspiration and you will not be forgotten. - Sgt. Hook For those of you who sit so bravely at your computers and mock the death of those soldiers, I ask this: what will you be remembered for? Not half as much as these men and women. To every soldier, every employee of the armed forces and every vet who reads this, I can't say it enough: Thank you. [picture - and much editing of anger - courtesy of WR]

to all the red sox fans i've loved before


wesa got gwand army!

If the Yankees are the evil empire than that must mean... jjbrs.jpg Your birthday is gonna SUCK, dude! And you and you won't be having much fun tonight either. EVIL ALWAYS WINS! THE SOX WILL GO DOWN LIKE AALDERAN!

Dedication #5: Thoughts on Danzig, Meatwad, Zombie, Grits, Ewoks and Ken Layne

Someone who wished to remain anonymous, but who made a lovely contribution to the SOA/VC cause, asked for the following in return for their donation (see here for details on returns for your money): bq. Michele, I'd like you to write a post on what you think about when you're not thinking about work or family or moving or politics. Like, those times when you space out just a bit and your thoughts run away with you and you get lost in a daydream, what are you thinking of? Thanks. Funny you should ask that, as I am just coming out of one of those moments. At those times when my eyes glaze over and all thoughts of war, pestilence, moving companies, science projects and annoying attorneys are far from my mind, I am most likely thinking about what it would be like to have sex with Glenn Danzig. It's more out of curiousity than anything else. For instance, I wonder if Glenn would like a mirror on the ceiling so he can stare at himself while we go at it? And would he moan his own name at the moment of climax? I used to have the same thoughts about Peter Steele of Type O Negative. Unfortunately, Peter has a love/hate relationship with himself and something tells me that his idea of good sex involves him slapping his own ass and calling himself a dirty slut. I'll pass, thanks. It's not always about sex. Sometimes I will ponder how it would feel to drive a fork through someone's brain. A particular someone. Always the same someone. And that leads me to thinking about watching brains slowly slide out of someone's head, which leads me to thinking about lunch, which leads me to zombies, which is really, when you think about it, what it all boils down to anyhow. Zombies. Everything you know, everything you do, ends up being about zombies. I also think about song lyrics. Did you ever have one of those moments where you are merrily singing along to one of your favorite songs and you realize you've been doing it by rote for so long that you never stopped and thought about the lyrics, so you do, and then you're sorry? For instance, just playing on my Winamp is Monster Magnet's Spacelord. I like this song. I sing it often, as it's on quite a few mix cds I've made over the years. But did I ever really think about it? Apparently not. Because if I did, I might have been more careful about loudly singing these lyrics: Been stuffed in your pocket for the last hundred days When I don't get my bath I take it out on the slaves So grease up your baby for a ball on the hill Polish them rockets now and swallow those pills I honestly have no idea what I've been singing all these years. Grease up your baby for a ball on the hill. I hope I didn't sing that in mixed company. I also think about food. A lot. Greasy, fattening, buttery, death-inviting food. Grilled swiss cheese sandwiches with bacon. French fries lathered in cheese, bacon and sour cream. Maybe even throw in some chili. Big, juicy hamburgers with just ripened tomatoes. Grits with cheese and butter and lots of salt. Anything with lots of salt. And cheese. Even shit would taste good with cheese and salt. Maybe. I think about my old Sega Genesis and I'm really proud of myself for remembering the code to get to the cheat menu on Aladdin. I think about comic books and I secretly pray that they never, ever make the Preacher movie because they would just destroy it. I think about Rancid and how they sound more and more like Smash Mouth every day and that's not a good thing. I think about Lyra and her daemon and I wonder if I had a daemon, what form would it take? A weasel? A hyena? A shit-covered maggot? I think about Ewoks and it makes me all pissed at George Lucas all over again because man, we should have seen JarJar coming. And then I get to thinking that all my favorite bands don't exist anymore and not because of age or anything, just that they all broke up at some point over artistic differences or who was fucking whose girlfriend and I really hope Ken Layne and the Corvids don't end up like that. Because Ken is looking really pissed in that photo, though Jim thinks Ken is just smelling Matt Welch's farts there. I try not to think about farts too much, so we won't go there. But right now I am thinking that Failure's Stuck on You is one of the best songs ever, and that Master Shake is really a dick to Meatwad. He needs a smackdown. And how come Meatwad doesn't ever get rancid and filled with maggots like any other piece of meat would, unless it's because he's, you know, a cartoon character and all. But still, I can't blame Carl for not letting Meatwad swim in his pool. I wouldn't either. Someone really needs to drop some Prozac in Master Shake's straw. To come full circle, Danzig once appeared on Aqua Teen Hunger Force. cc2.jpeDanzig: Now look, listen to me as hard as you fucking can. The fucking robot came with the fucking house and now he's fucking gone. If you see that mother-- Master Shake: Yeah, uhh, yeah we'll tell him... Danzig: You fucking better. If I find out he's over here I'm gonna be eatin' my cereal out of the bottom of your fucking skull. Verstšndlich?

I'm gonna be eatin' my cereal out of the bottom of your fucking skull: I'm Glenn Danzig, bitch! Man, I hope that was worth your twenty bucks. I may owe you.


If you ever wonder why I felt the need to give up political blogging, just one of the reasons can be found in the comments on my post about Pat Tillman. Brad of Sad Parade: you are a pathetic prick. I don't often wish bad things on people, but I find myself fantasizing about you being set upon by a swarm of angry bees. I wish you misery, you asshole.

Dedication #4: I Wish I Was (music included)

Elena, who donated $40 to the SOA/VC cause (see here for how you can get rewards - blog posts, donuts, CDs, free hosting and more - in return for your donation) asks that I write about a wish. bq. Michele, I'd like you to write about something you wish for. Not money or world peace or a cure to cancer or even a magic pony. Nothing like that. Just like, when you're sitting at home and life is going on and you say "I wish...." and it's something about yourself and how you are, how do you finish that question? Good question, Elena, and thank you for your generous donation. So what do I wish? I wish I didn't take everything so seriously. I wish I could learn to let things go. I wish I could turn away from the news and just not care and I wish that I wouldn't let petty, jealous, bitter people ruin my day. I wish that I could just not care sometimes, that I could turn off my emotions and go through life with a blank affect. I wish I wouldn't let the dragons slay me so often. Every day, every hour I wish that I was bulletfroof Radiohead - Bulletproof mp3 Limb by limb and tooth by tooth Tearing up inside of me Every day every hour I wish that I was bullet proof Wax me Mould me Heat the pins and stab them in You have turned me into this Just wish that it was bullet proof So pay the money and take a shot Leadfill the hole in me I could burst a million bubbles All surrogate and bullet proof And bullet proof (Ok, something lighter coming up next)

RIP Pat Tillman

2003-05-14-inside-tillman.jpephoto from USA TodayPat Tillman turned down a three-year, $3.6 million contract with the Arizona Cardinals to volunteer as an Army Ranger. Pat Tillman was killed in action today in Afghanistan. All too often, you hear people say that the armed forces are filled with people who are poor and stupid; they either join for the money or because they can't do anything else. It angers me to hear these things. There are thousands upon thousands of people like Pat Tillman - those who join because they want to, because it is their desire to protect their country, to protect the idea of peace, to fight for freedoms and to make this world a better place. To all the Pat Tillmans out there - to all the men and women who walk away from higher paying job offers and more glamorous careers and instead put on the uniform and risk their lives; to all who sacrifice time with their families so we can be free to enjoy time with ours; to all those who fight and defend because it is their calling; to all those who make it possible for this country to be a place where people can speak their minds: thank you. Thank you for your sacrifice and thank you for your dedication to your country and freedom. Rest in peace, Pat Tillman and all those who came before him. More at Command Post.

Dedication #4: Me and Leo Sayer Down by The Mall Courtyard

[Latest VC/SOA updates and info on how to get a post dedicated to you - among other rewards like donuts, music and free blog space right here] It's a very busy day here at work, not much time for blogging. But I have miles to go and promises to keep as far as fulfilling requests of those who donated to SOA in the name of VC. Most of the people I asked said they did not mind if my dedicated posts were repeats, as long as they stuck to the requested topic. And they do. Mary Pat asks: got any good music memories from childhood? Is high school considered childhood? If it is I've got a good one. Now, I know some of you have read this one before, but hopefully some of you haven't and you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Dedicated to MaryPat:

I was a teenage music activist: How I brought down Leo Sayer

I heard a song in the supermarket yesterday and it reminded me of this incident. ohleo.jpgThe year is 1978. I'm in high school, beginning of junior year. There's me and three guys and we are best of friends. We go nowhere without each other, we make no convoluted plots to take over the world without all of us present. We move like stealth bombers in the night, all army jackets and dirty jeans and Genesis t shirts (before Phil Collins ruined the band, ok?) We are the cutting edge of a white-bred community, which really isn't saying much, but we think we are the coolest people on the face of the earth. We listen to prog rock and punk rock and never pop rock or disco or, god forbid, Journey or Bruce Springsteen. We think guitar solos are passe but drum solos rock the house. We think Peter Gabriel is a genius and bands like Styx and Fleetwood Mac need to be silenced. We secretly listen to Van Halen but no one tells the other until years later, when we can laugh at David Lee Roth from the safe distance of many years. We don't hang out at the mall like the other kids. No, we hang out in Kevin's room with the black lights and Emerson Lake & Palmer posters, or we hang out in Paul's garage, with the drum set and the Ramones "Road to Ruin" playing over and over. Every once in a while though, we are drawn to the mall, because Record World owns us. It is the only reason to get on public transportation. It is the only reason to beg someone's older brother for a ride. To buy records and look through the stacks of vinyl and pray that you will find some obscure punk rock album in the cut out bin for 99 cents, but all you can find is Heart and Blue Oyster Cult, and a 45 of Nazareth's "Love Hurts" that you play 50 times in the next three days. One of those weekends arrives when there's nothing to do because Kevin's mom won't let us hang out in the house and Paul's mother is having a garage sale so we can't hang out there. We decide to hop the bus and go to the mall, where we will pool our money together to buy an album, and have enough left over to ask Kevin's brother to buy us quarts of beer when we get home. Perfect day. We get to the mall and the first thing we notice is there's more security guards than usual. This is suburbia. There's not much trouble at the mall. We figure there's some kind of protest going on. You know how those college kids are, always protesting the fur or the man or whatever gets them out of the dorms. So we make our way through the mall, wanting to just get to the record store and get the hell out of there without encountering any cheerleaders or football players or giddy junior high girls that always try to pick up Tim. We are about two feet from the record store when we are stopped by a short, fat security guard and a velvet rope going across the length of the mall. "You cannot get through this way. You must go around the other entrance to the mall and wait on line." The guard stands with his hand in his pocket, as if he is believing his own lie that he's a real cop and there's a gun hidden away there. "Wait for what?" I ask him. "What's the line for?" He rolls his eyes at me. "The show. The concert." I can almost here the "Duh!" coming out of his mouth. We look beyond the velvet ropes, past the throng of the most hideous looking group of middle aged women and giggling teenagers forming what looked like a huge conga line of patheticness. There's an amplifier set up on each corner of the square the ropes have formed. There's a makeshift stage in the middle, really just a few planks of wood. A concert. A show. "So, who's playing?" Kevin asks the guard. He rolls his eyes again. "Only Leo Sayer!" He says this with pride and arrogance. As if we should have known that the most untalented white boy to ever grace pop music was playing in our very mall today. "Leo Sayer," I say. "Leo Sayer," The other three say. We look at each other in the way that only friends who have performed sinister acts of rebellion together in the past can do. The look. The glance. The unspoken words that pass between us. The guard senses something going on. He looks us up and down, sees the clothes and the hair and the patches on the jackets and you can just about see the light bulb go on over his head. "Hey! You're not here to see Leo!" "Duh," I say. "We're here to buy some records. Can we go in?" "No. Come back tomorrow. And don't make any trouble. I know your kind." "Sure," Tim says. "Sure. We'll be on our way now. You take care, ok?" His words were the equivalent of patting the guy on the head. We walk around the other side of the mall. We stake the place out, eyeing the set up of the amps and the positioning of the security guards. We synchronize our watches and hatch our plan and wait. We wait patiently. Fifteen minutes until Leo Sayer bounces on to the stage, white boy afro and squeaky voice, ready to rock the world with "You Make me Feel Like Dancing." Wanna dance the night away? Nope. Not with you, Leo. We must do this. In the name of good music. In the name of Peter Gabriel and Joey Ramone. Five minutes til Leo. Finally, we hear a squeal rise out from the crowd. The sound of 200 or more tone-deaf women swooning at the site of a guy who looks like the poster child for geeks. We assume our positions. We wish each other luck in our mission. It's time. Leo is escorted on to the wooden plank stage by his manager and two mall security guards. The women swoon. The music cues (this is the 70's - he's going to lip sync) - and we run in four opposite directions. Within thirty seconds we have done it. We have unplugged all of Leo's speakers. The music stops. Leo is just about to "sing" the first words into the mic and everything goes dead. He's mouthing words to dead air. Silence. The security guard who spoke to us earlier spies me as I am walking swiftly away from the northeast amp. "IT"S THEM!," he shouts, pointing in my direction, and then swinging around to see Kevin running the other way. He points at him, at me, yelling at the other security guards, his face red and sweaty and alarmed. I'm having fits of laughter while I'm running, thinking that the guard is acting as if we just killed the president. I keep thinking about book depositories and grassy knolls and this too fat mall cop running after me because some disco pop boy had his amp unplugged. The four of us meet outside, at the bus shelter and we decide it's too risky to wait another ten minutes for the bus to come so we start the long walk home, stopping every once in a while to roll around on the sidewalks in fits of laughter. We get home, tell Kevin's brother about our exploits and he buys us beer and let's us drink it in his room. This is the big time. The older brother's secret sanctuary. He holds up his quart of piss warm Miller and toasts to us. "To good music!" We toast back, drink our beer and it doesn't dawn on me until now, 20 something years later, that Genesis wasn't really good music, and that Leo never had a hit after that day.

Bring it on

Yanks/Red Sox, tonight through Sunday. Place your bets, name your poison. The Bats of the Bronx have awoken and they shall kick ass in the name of the Dark Lord. dv2.jpg

Victory Coalition: It's For the Children

[Normal blogging soon - please take a minute to read through this post and the various links (in extended entry) on the latest donation tallies, newest challenges and free offers and other goodies related to the crapload of money thus far raised for Spirit of America] Donuts, Hot Abercrombie Goodness, free hosting, music, poetry, a Cubs World Series and more...only from the Victory Coalition, where you get more bang for your bucks! ftc.jpg I've said it before and I'll say it hundreds more times: bloggers and blog readers are incredibly generous.

Spirit Of America Challenge - Day Two Report Card

Day Two ResultsAmount Raised
The Victory Coalition$3,231.00
Castle Argghhh! Fighting Fusileers for Freedom!$1,498.50
Liberty Alliance$1,132.00

Overall ResultsAmount Raised
Castle Argghhh! Fighting Fusileers for Freedom!$8103.50
The Victory Coalition$6208
Liberty Alliance$2417

Look who kicked ass on day two!!! We knocked over $1700 off the Fusileers lead, and we're just getting started.

Offers in progress: Michele's challenge, Matt's blog giveaway, Sean has Krispy Kreme's for you, Jim's remix offer, the Baseball Crank has a moneyback guarantee for Cubs and Red Sox fans, etc.

Upcoming offers: Friday you will get the chance to purchase a true blog scoop, an exclusive new picture of Amanda Doerty, that refutes the claim that a guy is writing the Hot Abercrombie Chick blog. You'll get to run debunk the hoax story with the picture. That's pretty much a guarantee of big traffic.

The Victory Alliance is just getting warmed up...

DONUTS, PEOPLE! KRISPY KREME! That's over $16,000 raised in just two full days. Give yourselves a hand, folks. Come on, get up! Standing ovation for all the contributors! Don't make me take out the cigarette lighter beg you to play Freebird.


April 22, 2004


I will NOT be showing "my rack" in return for your donations. So please stop asking. You either accept the generous reward offers that I and other members of the alliance have made or you donate in the name of one of the other coalitions. There will be no boobs for you, not even for a two hundred dollar donation. Stop asking, and stop making blog posts saying that I have promised such a thing. I haven't and I won't. Thank you. Good night.

one more, by special request

My man. jb.jpg I love him. [Don't forget - scroll down and check out all the SOA/VC posts. Keep donating! Keep linking! And thank you to everyone who already did $5473 from the VC alone(!) and 16k overall. Yay, us!]

No Post, Just Pictures

Yea, I planned to do so much here tonight, but I ended up packing a crapload of boxes. And then I got distracted with my new photo album. So tommorow come the dedications, cover songs, and more link whoring for Spirit of America. Tonight, however, your mission is to go to my new photo gallery, where you can witness my attempts to learn the tricks and trappings of the new camera. You can leave comments and smileys and ratings. It's criticism designed as fun! The New, Improved, Space-Sucking Photo Gallery

attention parrotheads

Not parrots. Parrot heads. You weird people who like Jimmy Buffet. Stacy is mobloging a Buffet show live tonight.

Like this is a great suprise to anyone

:: how jedi are you? ::
Stolen from VC member Nick. Coming up tonight: Random photos from new camera, and another dedication post (or two) including a whole new cover songs thingie, in honor of both a person who donated and requested that topic and Kymberlie's Spring 2004 CD Swap, the theme of which is cover songs. Back to packing. Did five boxes of CDs and videos tonight. Getting there. I think I may have to try out that tequila I got today.

Dedication #3: Britney Spears Jeter

[Another in the ongoing Victory Coalition/Spirit of America Begging for Money for a Good Cause Series] brityank.jpgThis whole "I'll post what you ask me to" thing works out well, as my mind is so bogged down with thoughts about closing costs, packing and turning the garage of the new house into a home theater that I can't think of anything to write about. Besides begging you for money. So, dedication post number three goes out to Mr. Begging to Differ.
Greetings, Hi, Michele. I just donated $100 to the SoA on behalf of the Victory Coalition. For the blog post you'll be writing, I would like one about how the Yankees are going to blow it against the Red Sox in the playoffs because Jeter refuses to move to third base. Of course, if you think that having a player at shortstop with less range than Britney will actually help them beat the Sox, you can write that too.
First, I'd like to say thank you for the donation. Thank you. Now, I don't remember saying that I was going to write fiction, but what the hell. IT was a dark and stormy night. George Steinbrenner paced back and forth in his office, practically wearing out the carpet. Just last year, he had twelve underpaid seamstresses hand embroider a portrait of Roger Clemens sucking Andy Pettite's dick onto the carpet. It had only taken a few months for Steinbrenner's incessant pacing to wear down the formerly beautiful colors and art. Just two days away from the 2004 playoffs against the Sox, and the shading on the Clemens's uniform had turned flat and ugly, much like his fastball last year. Steinbrenner had not been this fraught with anxiety since the day Billy Martin came over to borrow a few cups of vodka, wished him a Merry Christmas, and drove off. Real problems were at hand. Jeter would not move to third base, despite offers from Steinbrenner ranging from sex with the Rockette of his choice to a starring role in the next Britney Spears video. George had been "friendly" with Britney ever since that Punk'd episode where she agreed to sleep with A-Rod if he scored a "touchdown" for her. Silly girl. George felt sorry for her and ended up beating the shit out of Ashton in retaliation for his making a fool out of an otherwise beautiful and intelligent woman. Britney was so thankful, she ended up taking a job with the Yankees, processing parking validation tickets for the Yanks' travel manager, George Costanza. Anyhow, no amount of cajoling could convince Jeter to make the move to third. Steinbrenner knew that the move had to happen if the Yanks were to mercilessly send the Sox packing once again this fall. As he paced that stormy evening, he heard a shy knock at the door. He mumbled for the person to enter. The door opened slowly, the light from the hallway shining across the carpet, illuminating Pettite's petty little dick. George stared at the doorway, expecting A-Rod to be standing there complaining that his contract specifically called for a red Hummer, not a blue one and Steinbrenner was ready to show him what hummer wasreally was about. But it wasn't Alex. It was Britney. Standing there in the dim light, the shadows playing upon her face and bosom, Britney appeared an angel on this hellish evening. George welcomed her, his arms oustretched. Come to daddy, he whispered. Britney snuggled in his arms. What's the matter, Georgie Peorgie? Oh, I don't know what to do, Britney. Derek just won't play third base, no matter how much I plead. I even offered him a Rockette for the evening. Oh. Maybe you should think outside the box, George. Outside the box? Oh.....you mean? Yes, offer him a night with Mike Piazza. They both giggle at their little inside joke and continue nuzzling. You know, Georgie, I played softball in high school. In fact, I played third base. Awww, my little sports girl. How cu.....oh...third base?!? Yes, and I was very, very good. An hour later, a meeting had been convened, papers drawn up, signatures made and shots of the best tequila money could buy were drunk off of Mariah Carey's chest. The night of the first playoff game came. Jeter, pouting and petulant, stamped his feet and flung his hat around in the dugout. He had been replaced by a girl! And not just any girl, but professional porn star Britney Spears! Britney took her place at third base for the start of the game. All eyes were on her and her fetching uniform. The bottom of the Yankee logo curved so sweetly over her right breast, it was hard to keep your eyes off of it. Still, the baseball purists and Yankee fans who were not sucked in by the thought of Britney's breasts heaving up and down as she lunged for a line drive were dubious. Britney was tested early in the game. Nomar, batting second, smacked the ball right toward her. The crowd held their collective breath and fixed their eyes upon her ass as she stretched her arm out, keeping her foot on the bag. The hard, fast ball zoomed right into the pocket of her glove, as if it belonged there. The fans let out a sigh. From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar, like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore. "Go Britney! Go Britney!" shouted someone on the stand, and it's likely they'd have swarmed her had not Jeter raised his hand. Yes, Derek "stepped up to the plate" as it were, came out to the field, nodded towards the crowd and announced his retirement effective immediately. It was obvious Britney was both a less selfish player and a better draw. Jeter realized that people long ago tired of his New York smile and charming personality. They wanted sass. They wanted boobs. They wanted someone who would play third base so A-Rod could get his way. And now, they had it all. So Derek packed his bags and headed where all disgraced, petulant, whiny Yankees go to retire - Houston. They Yankees went on to win the series in a sweep, Britney was named MVP and A-Rod hit twenty two home runs in four games. However, the Hollywood ending just didn't happen, as the Yanks lost the World Series to... the Astros.

McCain-Feingold Shakes the Blogosphere! (A Victory Coalition Offering)

[Details on the Victory Coalition here] mfvc.jpg The brainchild of Coalition Officer Matt:
The Spirit of America Soft Money Bundling Contest! In the spirit of thumbing our noses at McCain-Feingold, we've decided to offer a fabulous prize for the person that can cajole and threaten their relatives, friends and co-workers into giving the most money, per capita and total, in one lump sum to the Victory Coalition's effort on behalf of Spirit of America. Two winners, two prizes The rules: 1. Minimum of ten individual contributors 2. The payment must be made in one donation, and we'll need the confirmation email as proof. 3. Tell us how many contributors you rounded up. The prizes: Free hosting and a new blog here at Blogmosis for each of the winners. I'll set it up for you, Michele will design your logo and Kevin will add all the scripty gizmos your heart could desire. No time limit, no restrictions (Well, except porn. We do have a couple of standards left). Keep it for yourself, give it away to someone deserving, whatever you'd like to do. How hard can it be? Walk around your office and beg ten bucks off of everyone. Call your parents and say you need a new engine for the Yugo. Take out a second mortgage on your home. The contest starts now, and ends when the drive ends, 12:01am Pacific time on Thursday, April 29. If you're up to the challenge, let me know in the comments. We'd like to track your progress. May the best scrounger win!
The VC: Killing the other coalitions DEAD. Link it up. Now. New dedication post coming soon.

Hold my drink, bitch!


3,000 Dead/Injured in N. Korea

Two trains carrying petrol explode just hours after KJ passes through station. Command Post has the details.

Dedication #2: Bobby's World

Thank you, Bobby, for donating to Spirit of America in the name of the Victory Coalition. As promised, Bobby gets a post dedicated to him on the topic of his choice, which is:
I'd like you to write a post about either 1. fat-bottomed girls, 2. turtles, 3. Friendly's, 4. Pizza.
I can go you one better, Bobby. I'll write about all of them at once. strain07.jpeA little known fact about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is that they were originally drawn in black and white. Another little known fact is that the creators of the turtles, Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, wrote their first original TMNT story as an ode to Frank Miller. Mr. Eastman happens to be the same age as me. And that's where our paths part. He is a multi millionare, I assume. He made a living writing about four teenage turtles with nunchucks. No, he didn't write with nunchucks. The turtles had them....nevermind. Also, Mr. Eastman is married to this chick. Her name is Julie Strain. You may recognize her from such films as Heavy Metal. You may also recognize her from many poses in which she reveals that nothing comes between her and her leather loincloth. Guys, there is a lesson in this for you. Even a comic book geek can get the hot chicks. And what comic book geek would not give his left arm for a hook up with a hot, sexy B-movie babe? Not a one, I'm sure. Hell, I'd give my left arm for those tits. To have, not to hold. Pervert. So, where was I? Oh, yes. Even though Julie appears to be fat-bottomed in some photos, you can rest assured that the Queen song Fat Bottomed Girls was not, in any way, written with Ms. Strain-Eastman in mind. You can pretty much bet that Ms. Strain is not spending her nights scarfing down pepperoni and anchovy pizzas and chasing it down with a gallon of Friendly's Double Chocolate ice cream. Not that I do that. Not at all. My ice cream comes from Cold Stone Creamery. And I hate anchovies. My god, my thighs are huge. Huge, as in Julie Strain's... you see where I'm going.

Private Shout Out [Updated]

To my boss's high school mock trial team, who won the Nassau County (NY) championship last night. [Ed note: I didn't make it clear enough for some dumb red sox fan to understand: My boss is a judge. He is the mentor/leader for a high school mock trial team] In other news, bite me, Skillzy. Ok, another shout out. My other boss just gave me a huge bottle of Don Julio Tequila for Secretary's day. There is nothing better than a boss who really knows what you need. Now someone find me a shotglass.

Lefties, Red Sox fans, Mets fans - Get Your Money On!

*Notice to Instapundit Readers: This is the only coalition that matters. Thank you for stopping by and your donation to Spirit of America will not go unnoticed. I hereby declare that everyone who donates will be greeted by 72 virgins when they die!!* [Victory Coalition Headquarters] [Note to self: Posts must be put on PUBLISH, not DRAFT if you want them to actually show up]

The Details/Updates

The three Spirit of America Alliances raised over $11,000 combined yesterday. That's an enermous amount of money, and the donations keep pouring in. There's still another week to go on this thing and I hardly think I can keep up the frenetic pace of posting guilt trips and pleadings all day like I did yesterday, but I will make daily reminders. 11k is a lot of money and I'm awfully proud to be associated with this fundraising drive. Thanks to everyone who donated thus far, and thanks to the two worthy rivals of the Victory Coalition (headed up by Captain Aylward). While a lot of our "fighting" amongst each other may seem rude, obnoxious, petty, low class, mean-spirited and over the top, we are doing it in the spirit of giving. I'm pretty sure we all like each other. For the most part. But that doesn't mean I don't want to win. Because I do. In the worst way. Which means that you must donate, donate, donate. Ok, I understand your wallet is only so deep. But what you can do is pass this link along to others - get your blogging friends to write about it, get your non-blogging friends to donate, get your boss to match your raised funds. Stand on a street corner in a teddy bear costume and hand out lollipops to kids. Wait, don't do that. That's how my cousin ended up with a room on Riker's Island. Look at the SOA success stories: music, school supplies, sports, dental equipment - isn't that something you want to be a part of? From the SOA site: If you're a blogger and want to participate in the Challenge, you can sign up here. 100% of your tax-deductible donation (net of credit card fees) will be used to fulfill requests like these that Spirit of America gets from Americans serving abroad. Read about our policy here. The Challenge ends at 12:01am Pacific time on Thursday, April 29. That would be 3am for me. I'll be sleeping. Someone wake me when we win.
Blog / CoalitionAmount Raised
Castle Argghhh! Fighting Fusileers for Freedom!$6605
The Victory Coalition$2977Donate
Liberty Alliance$1285

Today's Challenges

Challenge 1: Anti-war friends of ASV I know that many people who read this blog are not supporters of the war in Iraq. Many of you are lefties (and I use that term with the utmost sense of endearement, not in the moonbat kind of way). This is a chance for you to show your support for the troops and the people of Iraq even though you don't suppor the war. This has nothing to do with George Bush, nothing to do with politics at all. Here: bq. Spirit of America intends to support the Coalition troops Ė as well as the Iraqi people Ė by providing the resources needed to turn enemies into allies, and helping our troops and civilians show that we are there to help the Iraqi and Afghan people build their countries toward a peaceful, independent, free future Ė not to colonize or conquer them. Thatís what winning the peace is all about.
The blog coalitions competing to raise money not only will make a big difference in the material support we can offer, but will have a critical role in broadening the community of people who support positive efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan, and who support giving our troops the tools they need to do their real jobsÖto help the people there build a strong, free, and peaceful future.
Now, more than ever, those networks of support and action are going to be critical, and it is the energy Ė literally, the spirit Ė of those volunteers that will make Spirit of America a success. The problems in front of us arenít going to be solved by donating funds or buying things alone. Itís going to take a movement Ė a movement to show the best that America has, and thatís what all of us are hoping to become part of. 100% of the funds raised go towards buying and shipping the goods requested. Not one bit of your donation goes towards administrative costs. And did I mention tax deductible? Here's the deal: The first ten left-of-center people from my blogroll who donate money to SOA in the name of the Victory Coalition will not only get posts dedicated to them, but I will write a haiku for them as well! Ok, not much of a reward, but the knowledge that you are helping such a fine cause should be a reward in itself, eh? So if you are one of those leftie blogs/readers and you choose to donate in the name of the Victory Coalition, please email me or leave a comment here so I know and you can be duly rewarded. red_sox_45.gifChallenge 2: Red Sox fans: The first five Sox fans that donate in the name of the Victory Coalition will be rewarded with a photo of me wearing a Red Sox cap/hat something of that nature. mets222.gifChallenge 3: Mets fans: Oy. This is the hardest thing I've ever done. It hurts me to even say it, but I will make the sacrifice in the name of SOA. (Deep breath) - Ok, I have to up the ante here - for every Met fan who donates $100 or more to SOA in the name of the VC, I will present a photo of myself wearing/holding some kind of Mets paraphenalia. If you know me at all you will know that this is not something to be taken lightly. The Mets are my kryptonite. I fear that if I even so much as put a finger on a Mets cap, I will shrink into the ground ala Dorothy's witch, writhing and screaming "I hate you, Gary Carter!" as I melt into nothingness, leaving only a Yankees insiginia burned into the ground where I once stood. And those are today's challenges. Should you take those challenges, please email me or leave a comment here letting me know. I have a lot of writing to do - I am still holding forth my promise to dedicate a post (of the donator's subject choice) to each person who gives to SOA in the name of the Victory Coalition. I have a lot of work to do. Now spread the word on today's challenges and let's kick some Esmay and Donavon ass.

April 21, 2004

Dedication #1: Dana

One dedication post tonight, because I am so tired my blood is yawning. [see here for how to get a post dedicated to you] This one is for Dana, a vet who donated a nice chunk of change to SOA today in the name of the Victory Coalition. Dana asked me to write about parenting. I asked him if it was ok if I pulled an old post from Raising Hell and he said sure. Thank you for your generous donation to Spirit of America, Dana. May the force be with you, always. Post below an expert of sorts I didn't set out to become an expert on anything but my own children. But that's what happens. By accident, by fate, by the meandering path that is parenthood, we become experts at things we thought we had no business knowing. They are not always things we want to be well-versed in. But they are things we are forced to know and research and become familiar with to the point of it becoming a part of your vocabulary, your being, your life. I myself became an expert at a few things. I learned how to negotiate the maze that is special education. I learned how to deflect criticism and pointless accusations and needless test results. I learned how to yell, how to beg, how to stand up for everything you believe to be true and how to disprove everything you know is not. I learned the correct vernacular, the phrases and coined terms, the euphemisms that the people who think they know your child better than you use to make you think that they are so much wiser than you. I learned how to rant and rave with dignity still intact and I learned that there is no better teacher and no better healer for your child than yourself. I learned that support groups and meetings and therapist, while they all have wonderful intentions, are not replacements for real knowledge and action. I became an expert, so much so that other parents in the same predicament would call me late at night and ask for advice. And honestly, I was only passing on advice that was handed down to me by other parents who unwittingly became experts in the same field. I became an expert at ear infections. How to tell when your child has one, even if he isn't running a fever, how to predict when one was coming, how to stave off a night of ear splitting crying, how to keep your child comfortable and relatively happy even though the inside of his ears were swollen and red and filled with fluid. I learned that Tylenol just doesn't work for some kids and antibiotics may prove useless. I learned that your child banging his head on the wall night after night was a sign of pain and that when a chatty child suddenly stops talking it's a very bad sign. I learned how to calm a child by strapping him into his car seat at 3 am and driving around the neighborhood singing Tom Chapin songs. I learned how to get a child to sleep sitting up, in a stroller, while you push said stroller around your kitchen table endlessly. I learned that doctors don't always know what's best and don't always know what's right and when your child's doctor makes you feel incompetent and stupid, that it is time to find a new one. I learned that ear infections may really be the underlying symptom to something else and I learned, in a very hard fashion, how to stop yourself from fainting when your 18 month old son is getting a spinal tap, and that if you do not stop crying and carrying on, the kind nurse will take you from the room and make you sit somewhere far away where you can't hear your son screaming in agony and fright. I learned about allergies and milk allergies in particular and I learned that sometimes the best teacher you have is the library and a pediatrician who doesnít' think you are stupid or incompetent. I became an expert at things that weren't so heartbreaking. I learned how to use a broom handle to teach a kid to ride a two-wheeler. I learned the number for poison control by heart. I was an expert on which Burger King had ball pits and which McDonalds had the outdoor playgrounds and I was the one who taught the other mothers why you never ever let your child go in one of those pretty colorful play tunnels that only a child can fit in when you are planning on leaving the Chuck E. Cheese in about ten minutes. I was an expert at the songs on Barney and the names of all the Power Rangers and I could imitate Darkwing Duck like nobody else. I knew the name of every train on Thomas the Tank Engine. I learned how to get down on a floor and play like a kid. I learned every Raffi song ever written and I also learned that kids will listen to your music if you just give them a chance, but Guns n Roses will make any 2 year old cry. I learned that every parenting book gives different views and different opinions on all matters of child raising and you will make yourself crazy if you try to follow them all. I became an expert on the revolutionary war and Thomas Edison and Tasmanian devils by default. I learned the difference between Tony Hawk and Bob Burnquist and why "Nsync rulz and BSB droolz." I learned how to negotiate fights between adolescent girls without making it seem like parental interference. I learned all over again the rules of basketball. I learned how to get to a baseball game in one place and a basketball game in another and make it look like I was there for most of both games. I learned how to call a truce, how to back down from a battle that wasn't worth it and how to get crayon off a newly painted wall. I learned that a summer night at the beach with a picnic, watching the sunset is worth more to your child than a day at an amusement park. These are not things I thought I would need to know or want to know. They just happened. You are thrust in front of you a mission to learn something, and you learn it because someone needs you to. Not because you want to, not because it's interesting, although it usually is. You become an expert by default, and you take all that you have learned and pass it on to the next unsuspecting parent who needs it. Call me when your kid develops a small red rash on his leg. I know exactly what it is.

American Idol Jumps the Shark

Attention west coasters: spoilers below What the fuck is wrong with you, America? What kind of person sees more in that red headed gnome than Jennifer Hudson? The bottom three tonight was an absolute disgrace. I am so done with this show. What a crock. I hope Jennifer Hudson gets herself a nice recording contract and I hope that everyone who voted for George, Jasmine or Red Doofus contracts herpes.

There is nothing more American than a kid playing baseball

Which is why you should join the coalition that has ME as a member. [As always, click for bigger]Man, it was cold at that game. Spring baseball shouldn't start until May. DJ continued his hot pitching streak with three strikeouts (he pitched three innings), giving up one hit, no walks and one unearned run. He got hurt on the last play of the game - kid slid into second and he and DJ banged knees. DJ made the play though. When he limped off the field, he said "I'll take the injury as long as it comes with a win." And it did. It wasn't much of an injury, really, but I let him limp his way to the car as if he was a war hero. Well, I've got a lot of work cut out for me. The donations to SOA have been pouring in and, as promised, each person gets a post of their subject choice dedicated to them. I have enough blogging ideas for the next week, at least. So I best get busy. [See here for information on SOA, how you can donate, where to find our Coalition Leader and what you can earn -besides a great sense of satisfaction and maybe a chocolate shake when you get to heaven - rewards for donating in the name of the Victory Coalition]

The Rick James Uprising

Hi there. Laurence of ATS here. Michele's off to Little League, having stumped me when it came to choosing a reward for contributing to the Coalition of Victorious Victory Winning Competition Contribution thing. I don't need any MP3s or any subjects discussed or legs broken or spleens flensed, so instead I asked for something truly special and wonderful, just between me and her that's legal in most states... Michele is letting me post here again. Used to do it on the oddest of occasions before, so I figured one brief shining moment, Camelot-style. And I'm even going to not link myself. Whoring is so old-fashioned. Out with the old, in with the new. But still, to prevent any confusion and to properly inform the public so as per FDA labelling requirements, I'm identifying myself so you don't think it's Michele and fill the comments with calls for boobie pics or weird fanboy stuff like that, but no links. You like apples? How's them apples? Heh. That catchphrase from the Ben and Matt Love Story rocks. But my favoritest catchphrase of the day is "I'm Rick James, bitch." I think this whole Rick James thing by Chapelle hasn't gone far enough, don't you? This could be bigger than "Where's The Beef," maybe even Bart Simpson's "Don't Have A Cow, Man." I envision a scene out of Spartacus. Rick James' revolt has been crushed by the Romans. The governor is calling for Rick James to show himself so the rest of the revolt will be set free. "I am Rick James, bitch!" he shouts out, standing proud like a Super Freak. The governor fixes his icy glare on Ri- And then another member of the revolt shouts out: "I am Rick James, bitch!" Then they all start standing up and shouting "I am Rick James, bitch!" and the slapping never ceases. I can't remember any of the rest of the movie. In fact, I just barely remember the previews of the new version from that Goran dude from E.R. And why don't I need to remember? Because I'm Rick James, bitch! If you still want boobie shots, shame on you!

Hold my drink, bitch!

DJ's got a baseball game, so I expect the other coalition members to carry the torch while I'm gone. When I get back, I going to BRING IT. vcbitch.gif How can you not join my side? See here for details on how to donate. See here for background and other details. See here for what you get in return for your donation. See here for totals thus far. Keep it coming, people. [Please note that all competition is done in the spirit of giving. The real winners are those who benefit from yours and Spirit of America's generosity] Oh, man. I have a lot of posts tonight - you people picked some great subjects (remember, you donate in our name, you get a post dedicated to you). After baseball. You will get your rewards. The boy comes first.


Totals so far: Castle Argghhh! Fighting Fusileers for Freedom! $2127 The Victory Coalition $1185 Liberty Alliance $590 Let's get a move on, people! (And great job so far - on all counts)

Victory Coalition: We Care a Lot

IMPORTANT UPDATES BELOW returnmoney.gifRemember: If you donate in the name of the Victory Coalition, I will: Write a post of your subject choosing. Upload a song dedicated to you. Be very thankful. No one else is giving you rewards for donating in their name. Only the Victory Coalition offers you a return on your investment in the Marines. On the VC gives you something back. We care. A Lot. Join us. Donate. Now. Update: Smash is playing DIRTY. He will regret it. So now Dean and Rosemary are offering to give you advice for your money. Rip me off much, guys? How about coming up with something original? Yah, didn't think so. Don't forget what I offer you. Who the hell wants advice? I will write a blog post JUST FOR YOU on any topic you want. And you get music. Hell, I'll throw in a photo as well and maybe even some of my husband's art. Girls, I'll throw in my husband. He's really good in bed. Ok, scratch that. I don't share. But he does do dishes. And if anyone is in the New York metro area and is willing to come to Long Island, I will buy you a beer in return for your donation. Or scotch. Or lemonade. Whatever your preference. Maybe I'll throw in a burger, too. But I will not do anything illegal with you, so don't even ask. Unless you're Gary Oldman, Neil Gaiman or Jeff Goldstein. Then you don't even have to ask. Maybe Rob Zombie. Go drop some coin in the box, people.

give until we tell you to stop

[Just want to keep a reminder post up top] See here for details and for how you can get a "reward" of sorts from me.

Worst Songs Ever: Sap That Sells

Before I go over my own list of worst songs, a few things have to be clarified.

There are certain criteria you must take into consideration when making such a list:

  • Novelty songs don't count. They are supposed to be bad. Thus, songs like The Streak and Disco Duck don't make the cut.
  • Hating a band does not automatically make their songs suck. While you may think Nsync blows goat chunks, that does mean that Tearin' Up My Heart is bad. It's not. It's rather good.
  • However, Backstreet Boys' Backstreet's Back gets a nod, not because of who they are, but due to the fact that they break one of the cardinal rules of good songwriting: They mention their own band name. See also Limp Bizkit on this one.
  • Bad songs are generally regarded as such because of bad lyrics. Musicianship is secondary on this list.

I haven't seen Blender's list yet, on which this topic was based. But that doesn't matter much, as this is a very subjective subject and one person's list is another person's playlist.

Bad songs can be divided into groups or genres. For instance, we have Subjects That Should Not Be Approached in Song. Leading the pack in this group is Cher's Half Breed. My father married a pure Cherokee/My mother's people were ashamed of me/The indians said I was white by law/The White Man always called me "Indian Squaw. At the end of the songs, she blames her life of sleeping around on the fact that the White Man brought her down. Damn the man!

Also showing up in that category is Torn Between Two Lovers: There's been another man/That I've met and I love/But that doesn't mean I love you less/And he knows he can't posses me/And he knows he never will. And then she begs him to stay even though she's sleeping with another guy who fulfills some need that this guy can't. You want to have an affair, that's your choice. But don't tell the world about it in song.

And then there's Having My Baby.
Didn't have to keep it/Wouldn't put ya through it/You could have swept it from you life/But you wouldn't do it, no, you wouldn't do it. Jesus. A song about a girl who slept with a guy and then, to prove her love to him, didn't have an abortion.

Another genre is the What the Hell?? song. It's all about those tunes that approach subjects so obscure and random they leave you scratching your head and wondering what the songwriter was huffing when he penned this one. To wit: You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name/
It felt good to be out of the rain/In the desert you can remember your name/
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain.
This is the one category when music actually comes into play. There are millions of obscure, nonsensical, drug-induced lyrics out there (See, Strawberry Letter #22), but many of those songs make up for the psychedilia of their words with decent music. And then there are some songs that wouldn't be redeemable even if they were played by the greatest rock ensemble ever put together: Muskrat Susie, Muskrat Sam/Do the jitterbug out in muskrat land/And they shimmy/And Sammy's so skinny. That song makes me want to jam a Q-tip in my brain. In addition to Muskrat Love, this genre also includes Mr. Roboto and Stairway to Heaven (see, here).

Next, we have death songs. Tragedy occurs every day, I know. And it's sad when people die. But for the love of Death, keep the bereavement therapy in your journals. Some songs about death are ok, especially the ones where the singer is actually doing the killing - hey, I'm not condoning murder, I'm just saying that Murder Ballads are far better than funeral dirges cloaked as pop hits. As such, Used to Love Her is good: I used to love her/but I had to kill her/I had to put her/Six feet under/And I can still hear her complain. Come on, that's funny! Last Kiss is bad: Oh where, oh where can my baby be?/The Lord took her away from me/She's gone to heaven, so I've got to be good/So I can see my baby when I leave this world. Possum Kingdom is good: I'm not gonna lie/I'll not be a gentleman/Behind the boathouse/I'll show you my dark secret. Sorry, but songs about murder are sexy in a really odd way. Ok, maybe just for me. This, however, is bad: But as they pulled him from the twisted wreck/With his dying breath they heard him say/Tell Laura I love her tell Laura I need her.

Now we deal with treacle. The treacle department is where all the cheesy songs go to (I wish) die. Sappy lyrics written solely with the intention of making you cry all the way to the record store. I'm not having any of that. Just thinking about these songs make me cringe. I must counter the toxic affect of looking up these lyrics by listening to Bloodhound Gang's One Fierce Beer Coaster on repeat. It's the only antidote.

There are a million songs that could fit into the treacle category, but I'll just deal with the ones I really hate:

  • Butterfly Kisses
  • You Light up my Life
  • Seasons in the Sun
  • Open Arms
  • Every Rose Has Its Thorn
  • We are the World (good intentions notwithstanding)
  • When a Man Loves a Woman
  • Christmas Shoes
  • Your Body is Like a Wonderland (One mile to every inch of/Your skin like porcelain/One pair of candy lips/and your bubblegum tongue) That might be the worst song of 2004. Already.

Sure, there's more. That's just off the top of my head.

And now, I present to you my top three Worst Songs Ever Recorded:

  • Run, Joey, Run.

Daddy please don't
It wasn't his fault
He means so much to me
Daddy please don't
We're gonna get married
Just you wait and see

See...she's pregnant, daddy's pissed and Joey and I guess he's pissed at Julie, too because Julie comes running out of her house with bruises on her face. And as she runs to Joey screaming that her Daddyy's got a gun, daddy fires away. And kills his precious, pregnant daughter. I swear I saw this movie on Lifetime last year. The best part is the end of the song, when Julie sings her dying words....

Daddy please don't...We're gon...na get... mar...ried...... She's all breathless from dying. So poignant. So sad. So bad.

  • Many of you declare that Terry Jacks' Seasons in the Sun is the worst song ever. Apparently, you never listened to the flip side of that 45.

See, Seasons in the Sun had my name in it (Goodbye Michele, it's hard to die) and that made it not so much sad as annoying. The first few times my neighbor sang the song to me, it was funny. Then it got infuriating. Then I put a brick through his head. After that, he stuck to playing Michele, My Bell on the trumpet as I passed his house each day.

Anyhow, I had the Seasons in the Sun 45 because, if were cool like me, you had all the top ten 45s. Being the music aficianado I was (and still am), I actually listened to the flip sides of songs, unlike my peers who were concerned only with the Billboard hits.

The song was called Put the Bone in (later covered by Soul Asylum for some odd reason). Roll that around on your tongue a minute. Put the Bone in. And no, it wasn't a metaphor for "let me fuck you." It was about a doggie. A poor, dying doggie.

Put the bone in
She yelled at the store
'Cause my doggie's been hit by a car
And I do want to bring him home something
Put the bone in
She yelled out once more
Because the meat from the pork is so sweet
And the bone from the pork give to me
Put the bone in she begged him
As she paced across the floor
Put the bone in she yelled out once more

I swear on Homer Simpson's grave that those are the real lyrics. The meat from the pork is so sweet. Oh, I bet it is, baby. Give me that bone!

And the number one worst song is.....it's a tie!

  • (1)Independence Day, by Martina McBride. Now, it isn't McBride's fault that I hate this song. It's Sean Hannity's fault. He uses part of this song as his intor music and it is the reason that, if I feel like listening to Hannity's show, I won't turn it on until after the show starts. I suppose the song is about a drunken husband, but Hannity takes only part of the tune and plays it (before the theme leads into some other pop song I can't think of right now).

Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today is a day of reckoning
Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay
It's Independence Day

I'm pretty patriotic. I love my country. I hate terrorists. But this just drives me crazy. The day of the reckoning? Let the guilty play? Why doesn't he just open his show with war cries? Now, you know I'm a warmonger, as the pro-Iraq war people are called these days, but if your gonna mong a war, do it with just a bit of tact. I can't really put my finger on why this song, in the context of Hannity's show, bothers me so much, but it does enough for me to make it share the number one spot with..

  • Have You Forgotten by Darryl Worely.

I wrote about this one already at Blogcritics, but I'll repeat what I said there.

Have you forgotten how it felt that day to see your homeland under fire
and her people blown away
have you forgotten when those towers fell
we had neighbors still inside
going through a living hell
and you say we shouldn't worry about bin laden
have you forgotten

Instead of bringing me to my knees in prayer or making me want to run out and hold my neighbor's hand as we get ready to fight the good fight, the lyrics make me want to crawl under a rock.

In the same way I cringe whenever a musical artist uses his own name in a song, the use of the name bin Laden - rhymed with forgotten - makes me almost want to break out in a fit of giggles.

And there you have it. Not a complete list, by any means. Just the ones I thought of today.

We Are the A-Team

Get over there. Join the VC. Make everyone you know fork over some bucks. Don't forget to email me if you give money in the name of VC. If you do, I will dedicate a post to you. That's what you live for, I know. It's the damn gesture that counts.

TV Turn Off Week: No Thanks

I thought it fitting that my annual TV Turn Off Week post should be a rerun.

Why write something new when I still feel the same, eh?

[From 2002]

I was asked by a rather closed-minded person at baseball practice yesterday if I was observing TV Turnoff Week. No. I mean, Hell No!

I make no apologies about being a tv addict. I make no excuses for my kids loving the television. And I really don't want to get into a twenty minute discussion with someone about it if that someone cannot accept the fact that not every person thinks the same way. I also will have the urge to put my fist down your throat if you dare hint that I am in some way inferior to you, not as good a parent as you, not worthy of breathing the polluted air around us, if I watch a lot of tv.

If you want to turn off your tv, that's fine. More power to you. If you don't own a tv, that's great, too. That's your prerogative. I admire your staunch stand on the issue. Just don't throw your tv-less ideals at me, ok?

We love tv. And no, I am not going to sit here and pretend that all the tv we watch is educational. Sure, we watch the Discovery Channel and Biography and National Geographic TV. We love that stuff. But we also watch cartoons and sitcoms and the adults in this house watch late night softcore porn on Cinemax and violent movies and infomercials. And sports. We watch a whole lot of sports.

Don't tell me that tv keeps us from reading. We are all readers. We read every single night. Sometimes together, sometimes alone.

Don't tell me that tv keeps us from enjoying time together as a family. We manage to cram plenty of family time into the few hours a day we have together. Yes, we get outside. We play sports. We take walks. We run around. We hike through the local nature preserve. We sit on the lawn and stare at the stars and talk.

We do talk. We talk at dinner, we talk in the morning, we talk at bedtime. We talk while we watch tv. And we listen.

Don't tell me that we are mindless sheep suffering at the hand of advertisers. My kids do not get, nor do they want, everything they see on commercials. We are not name brand whores. We aren't mesmerized by advertising. That's the beauty of a remote control and 140 channels. Commercial comes on, we switch to another hockey game, another news channel and yes, another cartoon.

We like entertainment. Not every moment in our lives needs to be a learning experience. Sometimes we want to watch something for fun. Sometimes we want to just sit in front of the tv and stare glassy eyed at music videos as we let a rough day slip away. Not every moment in our lives is structured and organized and divided into neat compartments where each moment is an experience that will somehow shape our future.

It's not like I'm letting the kids watch programs that aren't meant for children. And it's not like Justin and I spend our Saturday nights watching a Tom Green/Pauly Shore marathon. We do have some standards in our tv watching.

I will not turn off my tv. I most certainly will not turn off my tv during the NHL playoffs. I will not give up the History Channel and Adult Swim and the Chappelle Show They bring me enjoyment. Why does it matter so much to you what the source of my enjoyment is?

You can turn off your tv. You can throw your tv out for all I care. Good for you. As long as you don't preach to me that going tv-less makes you a better person than me, you can talk to me about it all you want. The minute you tell me that (even though you were fucking your neighbor while your husband was on a business trip) you are a better mother/person than me, or that your family (even though your son was expelled twice for punching a girl) is better than mine or that your home life (remember when the cops came to your house after your husband fired that gun at your dog?) is nicer than mine because you turned your tv off for one whole week out of the year, that's when I stop caring what you have to say on the subject.

our banners are prettier than theirs

More buttons, banners, whatever you want to call them. Put them on your site, yo. Link to SOA donation site Link to VC headquarters

It's On

The challenge is OFFICIALLY underwway. Any money donated to SOA today under the name of the Victory Coalition is appreciated. Our goal is twofold; to not just raise money for a great cause, but to kick Dean (Liberty Alliance)and John's (Fighting Fusilleers) collective asses. Please click on the banner below, which will take you to the special page for donating as part of the Victory Coalition. See Wizbang for more details and a list of who is part of our alliance. Thank you to Kevin for taking over the reigns of the VC when I couldn't do it. You've done a bang-up job, my man. soaneeds.gif Please, spread the word. Link, write, scream, call, run through your office building naked. Get your bosses to match your office total. Tell your neighbors. As a special added bonus, everyone who donates ten dollars or more to SOA in the name of the Victory Coalition in the next 24 hours gets a post at ASV dedicated to them, including an mp3 to download. I know, I know. You'd much rather payment in the form of Beyonce/Brad Pitt kissing you (whichever one floats your boat), but this is the best I can do. I shall be reminding you all day. I'm going to make smaller buttons and banners that you can put on your site so that when you join our alliance, which you will, you can stand up and be counted. If you donate in our name today, please send me an email so I can prepare a post for you. The Victory Coalition and the Spirit of America team thank you in advance for your generosity.

April 20, 2004

here i am, rock me like a hurricane

Don't worry, I'm not leaving you hanging - I'll get to my worst songs list tomorrow (and I'll get to this war cry, also). Husband has been chasing me around the house with the camera, so here you go. You know, I'm really, incredibly camera shy, which is why you've only seen about two pictures of me in three years. So here's the face that goes with the words. They're orange-ish because my husband is an artist and he's got that weird creative streak that means nothing must ever be normal and I really didn't feel like Photoshopping the damn color out of the things and hey, I'm just trying answer the age old questions "What the hell do you look like?" and "You're really a 400 pound midget, aren't you?" My face isn't greasy, it's the lighting, I swear. And this is why you very rarely get photos of me. Because I have to spend way too much time explaining why I don't look like Jessica Alba. click for bigger Someone needs a haircut, bad. And sorry about the title - I was on a Scorpions tear tonight.

Two More: Fish and Dust Brothers

Anything else will go in the photo gallery. Click for HUGE size. Damn, I love this camera. Preciousssssssss Yea, I guess the stuff on the computer desk could use some dusting. Hence the name of the image. Ummm...want to see our bookshelves?

best spent money EVER

I'm going to be spending a lot of time at my photo gallery.

Sunshine Day

This new fangled blogging thing just might be working out. Since I changed ways, I've climbed ahead of Den Beste in the Ecosystem. Matt Drudge, you are toast! bq. Yea, I know this thing is fickle. Let me enjoy it while I can. So I made this totally random and impulsive stop on the way home from work. It was like the sign "Koh's Camera" was calling out to me, reaching towards me with outstretched arms, grabbing at my brain and my checkbook. I am now the owner of a Nikon CoolPix 5700. This is the last thing I will ever be able to buy myself, what with the money pit new house and all. And it's something I wanted forever. Thank you to everyone who hit my tip jar this month. You made the purchase possible. As if Matt Rogers, becoming a higher being and a new camera weren't enough, when I got home, Dave Chappelle Season One was waiting for me in the mailbox. Thank you, Y.A.G. You totally rock. Yvonne has pictures of her with Matt Rogers from today (she's the one who told him to come visit me here). Yea, we're acting like twelve year olds, but I think that's a great thing to do once in a while. As long as it's not during sex. What a great day. I haven't had this good a day - emotionally, anyhow - since I stopped the meds. I feel like putting flowers in my hair and teaching the world to sing. I think the detox is in its final stages because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. At least I hope it's a light and not a raging fire or something. If only I could sing.

My Musical Gift to You

Sifl and Olly doing Convoy - mp3 And this:

Which Sifl & Olly Show Character Are You?
Brought to you by Fifth Dream Today.


Special note to Matt Rogers who (I have this on good authority) is going to drop by here today: You were robbed! Dude, go hardcore. You so have the voice for it. I can see it now: Matt Rogers does Cannibal Corpse! (You totally rocked) /end fangirl moment

Barry Bonds: Spawn of Satan

The night was black was no use holding back Cos I just had to see was someone watching me In the mist dark figures move and twist was all this for real or some kind of hell 666 the Number of the Beast Hell and fire was spawned to be released

Callin' all trucks, this here's the Duck: Bad Songs That Aren't [Updated]

They say that one man's garbage is another man's treasure. So it stands to reason that one person's idea of an awful song is another's person's idea of what they want to dance to at their wedding.

Different songs do different things for different people. While I might be inclined to agree that Motley Crue's Home Sweet Home isn't the greatest tune out there, I'm attached to it in a way that only the memory of punching out your sister's best friend in a drunken rage while fighting over the music selection at a party can grab onto your brain and make you think you love the song when you really just love the memory of being so drunk that violence seemed like the most peaceful solution possible.

You know what I'm saying.

So what makes a song really bad? Is it cheesy lyrics? A too-simple bass line? A nasal voice? Or is it really not a case of a song being so bad as much as it is a case of your local DJ playing the song to death and thus making you despise it? Perhaps it's a bit of all of that.

Ok, I was going to try to do this in prose form, but I have too much real work to do today, so I'm just going to run down your song selections while I eat lunch at my desk. I'll update as I can, so keep checking back.

  • Ghostbusters: Sorry, dude, but this song rocks, if only for the reason that whenever anyone says "Who you gonna call," can retort back with - Ghostbusters. And then we can sing.
  • Jessie's Girl: No way. That song ROCKS. Dr. Noah Drake, pop star!
  • The Night Chicago Died: When the song came out, I originally thought they were talking about Mrs. O'Leary's cow and the whole fire thing. Hey, I was twelve. Then I thought they were talking about the Chicago riots. My father then had to sit me down and tell me the story of Al Capone. And you just have to love this part: And there was no sound at all, 'cept the clock upon the wall....which is where my sister and I would say tick, tick, tick. Hey, you take your memories where you can get them at my age.
  • Wanted, Dead or Alive: Bon Jovi rules and don't you forge that. I've seen a million face and I've ROCKED them all! Ok, maybe that steel horse line has to go.
  • Watching Scott Grow. Hon, without Watching Scotty Grow we have no Watching Scotty Die by the Dead Milkmen and that would just be a shame.
  • Billy Don't be a Hero: You people are really looking to piss me off. You're stomping on every one of my childhood memories. We used to act this song out in my aunt's basement. Complete with real tears and my cousin in a Halloween-type army costume and me screaming for Billy to come back and DON'T BE A HERO! I thought the woman was a selfish prig. No wonder Billy opted for going down a war hero instead of coming home and having to live with her. I mean, she threw the letter away! I bet she was fucking his best friend the whole time, anyhow. Bitch.
  • Stand - Yea, it's not the greatest song, lyrically speaking. But it makes me feel good. So, there.
  • Smoke on the Water: Dean, you are officially a communist for thinking this is a bad song.
  • Word Up: PromoGuy, I must smite you. Not only was this song great in its time, but I STILL quote it. If thereís music we can use it/We need to dance/We donít have that time/For psychological romance - word UP motherfucker!
  • Just a Friend - Dude, I made the DJ play this at my wedding, that's how cool it is. And everyone sang along.
  • Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?: Ok, so am I the only one who put on her grandmother's house coat and her grandfather's fedora and sang this song into a fake microphone while the tears rolled down her eyes? I was twenty when I did that. And drunk.
  • Convoy: You know, some of us have ex boyfriends who were really into the trucker/CB thing. And some of us treasure those memories like....

Nevermind. The song sucked as much as the sex did.

more later

I just saw a comment from one Reggie and I must reply:


Melts on your burning flesh
You can see your reflection
In the luminescent dash

You are a sad, sad man, Reggie.

hold music: She's a Death Row contract, when you hate Dr. Dre

Music for the holding pattern. Working on my Worst Songs post, which will probably be longer than the longest Den Beste article and not nearly as informative. I noticed a few people have already chosen Alanis Morrisette's Ironic as one of the worst songs every created, and you are right. So, for your pleasure, I present today's musical selection: Self- Moronic (mp3) By the way, Self is a great band and Selfies is one of the best fan sites ever. Bet you didn't know that Self does the short Expedia jingle. You may remember Self from a recent post where I offered up the Trunk Full of Amps mp3. That's long gone, but you can still download it - with a bunch of other Self stuff - here. Lyrics to Moronic below. She's a leprachaun with mouth full of bile She's a movie lover, suckin cock in the aisle It's like ten thousand dicks, when you're not really gay She's a Death Row contract, when you hate Dr. Dre And I think she's moronic Its a real pain When she hits the airwaves With a pack of lies That she wrote in the third grade She's a head of lies Thats you just cant shake And each single makes me sicker To imagine her naked I'm afraid to see (afraid to see) I took my suitcase And broke her left titty When I was at burny-grunmans Mastering my album I had the chance to burn her masters And I wish that i had Cause I think that she's moronic (blah blah blah) It's a pure pain When she hits the airwaves And I hope she dies And pour salt in her veins She's a head of lice That you just cant shake And each single makes me sicker She has a funny way Of processing her lower vocals through a stereo chorus end delay She has a funny funny way Of singing all of her bridges like the kibbde-kibbde-kibbde-kiddby count bass Isn't she moronic Dont you think Never once melodic And I really do think And I think she's moronic It's a real pain When she hits the airwaves With a pack of lies That she wrote in the third grade She's a head of lies That you just cant shake And each single makes me sicker

Give Until it Hurts. Or Until We Hurt You. Your Choice.

disclaimer: no kittens were killed in the making of this banner You have an hour or so to get busy listing your Worst Songs Ever before I start writing about them.

April 19, 2004

Homework: Shiny, Happy Songs that Make you Want to Stick a Fork in your Eardrum

Tomorrow we tackle the worst songs ever. You may commence with your nominations now.

Seagull Killing Clinic

Despite what that old geezer in the comments keeps writing, I did get a lot of packing/throwing stuff away done tonight. And I got to spend some time going through photos and crying about how big my kids are and how cute they were when they were babies, and neither of them would accomdate me - for old time's sake - and go fall asleep at the dinner table with strained carrots all over their face. Many years ago (can you really say many when dealing with an eleven year old?) DJ went to a baseball clinic where Dave Winfield was the guest celebrity. He told DJ that he expects to see him playing for the Yankees some day. Dave: Tip number one, kid. When they take you in for questioning, don't say 'I thought it was a bluejay.' [Seriously, Dave was the nicest guy ever. So patient with the kids, made sure every single kid got a little special attention from him and was genuinely pleased to be there. His smile really is that huge - and real as they come]


What? What? What? Yeaaah! Yeah! Yeaaaah! What? Okay! liljon.jpg

tonight's packing objective: photos

Tonight's blogging objective: scanning and subjecting sharing.

You people who pick on me have no idea who you are dealing with.

I know Darth Vader.



Yep, I've even done the limbo with the guy.

Evil is on the side of.....me. And the Die Puny Humans coaliation.

I'm going scan happy. Be prepared.

Requiem for Skillzy

Hey, Skillz - you see yesteday's New York Post cover? yankvader.bmp I hereby announce that the Yankees theme song has been changed to the Imperial Death March. Which is what some of the Yankee players will be doing if they don't shape up. Never forget Ed Whitson, boys. If the Yankees are the evil empire, then the Yankee fans are Red Five homing in on the Death Star. This is Red Five, I'm going in! Die, Ed Whitson, Die! Scene 25. My god, I know that's scene 25. I'm sick. Anyhow, I was going to tell you all to blogroll Skillzy. But I cannot in good faith ask someone to link a blog whose owner makes images like this one: lenoah.gif Skillzy, this is war. And you shall be on the receiving end of my shock and awe. And I don't mean that in a good way, no matter how you may want to construe it. You ready to throw down, dawg? 'Cause I am throwin' it. Nobody does that to Lenore and lives long enough to pat themselves on the back. Wait for it.

drive, she said

It's 65 degrees outside. They said it would reach 80 today, but that's not gonna happen. Which is fine with me, because anywhere between 65 and 75 is perfect. The sun is shining, people are driving with their windows down, the construction workers are wearing tight t-shirts and the neighborhood rave kiddies have their car bass working overtime. Little League season has officially started. DJ is in his glory, as he is the team's starting pitcher and plays second when he's not pitching. 2-0 so far, four strikeouts Saturday, six yesterday. 2 for 3 both days. The sun shines on Little Leaguers all the time, I swear. Even when it's cold and rainy, these kids run out to the field as if it were 80 degrees and sunny. This is the year (second year of minors) when the kids who were playing baseball just to please their parents drop out and what you have left is about fourteen kids on each team who each think that a Yankees uniform lies in their future. It's great to watch eleven year olds be so serious about something. Because as soon as they get off the field, the world reverts back to one big fart joke. But it's spring verging on summer and even a fart joke heard one million times can elicit a smile if the kid telling it is wearing a baseball uniform with the tell-tale sign of a slide into home worn on the knees. I need to get a new sub-woofer if I want to compete with the big boys on the block. While they're cruising around with their house music blasting - though some of them opt for DMX - I'll be pulling up next to them at the red light and turning up the volume on Machine Head. And then we'll do the dueling thing, where the guy in the Camaro will counter with Guns N Roses and I'll laugh and switch to Pantera. Two can play at this cock-rock thing, buddy. Well, yea...he doesn't have to know that I'll putting the Get Up Kids cd in as soon as I turn the corner. You don't ever want to get into an Emo duel with me, kids. I can tear-jerk and whine with the best of them. Get me Dashboard Confessional, stat! So I made myself a cd this morning, based on the weather forecast. Hmm...windows down, short sleeves, open toe shoes...yep, it's Songs I Love to Sing. Now, ever since the Tyler incident, I've been careful about singing very loud while driving, but some days just call for a little what the hell. Today's playlist: Toadies - Dollskin Danzig - You and Me (Less than Zero) Incubus - Make Yourself Pixies - Where is My Mind Monster Magnet - Spacelord Bad Religion - Kerosone Well, I forgot what else I put on it. I'll have to complete that lineup when I get home. Suffice it to say, it has more hits than the Yankee lineup had today! Meanwhile, I happen to have one of those songs hanging around in my archives. Danzig - You and Me mp3 Sometimes there is nothing sweeter than listening to Danzig make love to his own voice. I think he sings just to hear himself. Great song, worst movie ever. Enjoy, it's time to get out of work and sing myself home. Loudly.

Sultans of Squat

Not for nothing, but new ASV aside, if someone tries to take me down, they're not doing it without a fight. It's just not in me to not fight back. And defending your (somewhat) good name is not pettiness. Just saying. Anyhow, on a completely unrelated note, I think I'm going to spend more time this season complaining about the Yankees than antagonizing Red Sox fans. I'm sorry, but with that lineup they be running circles around the American League. Crappy pitching shouldn't even figure into the equation. Look at some of these names: Jeter Rodriguez Sheffield Matsui Posada Williams Giambi Lofton Sierra Hello?? There's not even a bottom of the lineup. It's like having two cleanup hitters. These guys - on paper - make Murderer's Row look like Misdemeanor Row. WHY ARE YOU NOT SCORING 40 RUNS A GAME? It's going to be a long year. p.s. Note to A-Rod - Get over the freaking stage fright already. Hit the damn ball or I'm gonna mug you to get my payment towards your salary back.

Al Giordano, mental masturbator

Yes, I understand what Al Giordano was getting at. As Ian said in the previous comments, Al was gloating as if his minions of trolls caused my warblogging suicide. So I figured if the Kos crowd was going to head over here through Al's link, I would throw them a party. I imagine that they scratched their heads in confusion as they read my post. Ok, the jig is up. Personally, I think Al is an asshole. I think his post was one of the biggest pieces of self-aggrandizing bullshit I have ever seen. But this is the kinder, gentler ASV, remember. And since they think I am such a stupid, vulnerable, weak girl that I would let what they have to say have any affect whatstoever on whether I blogged about the war or not, I just gave them their two cents worth of satisfaction by being everything they expect me to be. I'm nice that way. If you need to stroke your ego by spitting on me, go ahead and spit and stroke. But I'm not going to go back there and look at the comments because mental masturbation is an ugly, ugly thing. And not nearly as satisfying as porn. Dangling participles notwithstanding. Oh, hope you enjoyed the email this morning, Al. Consider it my way of adding to your masturbatory fantasies involving the worship of all things Al. Hope it was good for you. It was kind of tedious for m. In a way, I feel sorry for them that they have nothing better to do than spend their days trying to twist people's panties in a bunch. One must lead a very vapid life if that's what passes for entertainment. Or interesting writing. But hey, have at it. It's your dime. Spit and stroke, kiddies. Spit and stroke. But don't look for your money shot here or you're gonna end up with the worst case of virtual blue balls ever.

Spirit of America Update: The passing of the flaming torch of competitiveness

Due to time constraints, I have handed over the keys to my SOA coalition to Kevin of Wizbang. I expect that anyone who had agreed to be part of my coalition to beat Dean's ass will go sign on with Kevin. The stakes are high, kids. While SOA may have already raised the money needed for the Marines tv station, they do so many good things and any money donated will be put to good use for a fine cause. And I want my name attached to the coalition that raises the most money. Because I'm competitive like that. Now get your ass over to Kevin's, sign up, read the details and get ready to drop some money in the pockets of SOA later this week. We will rock you. And you. Your group will be the Coalition of the Puny compared to Kevin's! Victory Coalition Now!

Warblogger Suicide Watch

I think I was the first blogger to drink the kool aid. Or throw my hair dryer in the bathtub. Whatever the metaphor of the day is. When a warblogger - or ex-warblogger like myself - see the Daily Kos url in her referrer logs, one would only except that trouble will ensue. Al Giordano says sort of nice things about me, in that left handed kind of way. Worlds collide! By the way, it was a toaster, not a hairdryer. And there were Eggos in it.

April 19th

Today is Holocaust Rememberence Day. More here and here. Yad Vashem More at the Virtual Jewish Library Meryl Yourish's post from 2003 Holocaust Memorial Museum

April 18, 2004

scenes from a garage sale, part 3

More garage sale pics. Stories behind them tomorrow. I've got to go figure out what to do about this retarded sunburn.

right, frog.

Here's the deal. I cannot give up blogging entirely, as if that wasn't obvious to everyone from the very start. But....and it's a BIG but (not unlike my own)...it will be a different ASV. There will be no political rants. There will be no leftie bashing. There will be no warmongering. There will be no talk of the election, the war, Israel, anti-war demonstrations, Michael Moore, Iraq, Iran, immigration issues, political correctness run amok, nor will there be any pointing at other bloggers who do talk about those things in a way that runs opposite to my feelings on the subject. That part of ASV is over. It just has to be that way. It was not an enjoyable experience to write about those things. The last thing in the world I need right now is more negative adrenaline. Should I have the need to express an opinion on any of those matters, it will be done in a professional manner on the Command Post OpEd page. I will talk about the troops. However, it will be in the context of various causes from around the blogosphere that support our soldiers. As I promised/threatened, ASV is now a pop culture blog and will occasionally dip into the personal, as I always have. I am setting up an ASV forum that will be a home to all the quizzes and contests I am so fond of, as well as a place to just hang out and talk shit about each other, which we seem to be fond of as well (and I'm looking at you Red Sox fans when I say that). The pace of the writing here will not be as frenetic as usual, I assume, until I have finished moving and settling into the new house. When you've been blogging for three years, and not just at one blog, it's hard to walk by a keyboard or hear a good story without getting itchy trigger fingers and needing to hit the blog. Yes, I am an addict. I would love to the results of a study done to determine the percentage of bloggers with addictive personalities. How did I make this decision so quickly? Easy. By reading through all the comments and emails and realizing that I enjoyed the doing the fluff blogging as much as people enjoyed reading it. This has obviously been a rough time in my life. I think that subtracting the negativity from this place and adding to the things that make me smile when I write about them can only be good for me. I need good. I need this distraction. I'm still "detoxing" as the doctor calls it (and how the hell long does this go on for, anyhow?) and any moments spent writing about things that make me laugh and smile or make other people laugh and smile is time well spent. It distracts from the constant zaps, the flu-like symptoms and the fact that I got a sunburn today, but it's only on my forehead so it looks like someone slapped some red paint on the upper half of my face. So, to recap. ASV lives, but ASV as you know it dies. Welcome to the kindler, gentler blog. I hope you like it. If you don't, oh well. I'm currently here to please me, not you. (See? I paid attention to your emails) To everyone who left song lyrics for me in this morning's post: that just rocks. I sincerely hope that I am the only blogger that can claim her readers serenade her with lyrics. And they were all really, really nice. How the hell could I leave you guys? You're all my best friends. Ok, that was really corny. But those mood swings come and go, and this one has "I love everyone" written all over it. Special kisses to Faith, Andy, Windy, Solly, Stacy, Todd, Lair, Meryl, Treacher, Allah, Dawn, Mel, Billy Gibble (that name still makes me giggle), Choire, Clyde, Lileks, Melly, Dave (Got your snail mail, will write later), Brian and Tanya. Welcome to the kinder, gentler ASV. Tonight's MP3 below Tonight's song is my song for the week. Sing it with passion. It feels good. I'll have another song in a minute - one of those long distance dedictations. Incubus - Make Yourself mp3 If I hadn't made me I would've been made somehow If I hadn't assembled myself I'd have fallen apart by now If I hadn't made me I'd be more inclined to bow Powers that be would have swallowed me up But that's more than I can allow If you let them make you They'll make you papier-mache At a distance you're strong Until the wind comes Then you crumble and blow away If you let them fuck you There will be no foreplay But rest assured They'll screw you complete Til' your ass is blue and grey You should make amends with you If only for better health But if you really want to live Why not try and Make Yourself? If I hadn't made me I'dve fallen apart by now I won't let em' make me It's more than I can allow So when I make me I won't be papier-mache And if I fuck me I'll fuck me in my own way You should make amends with you If only for better health But if you really want to live Why not try and Make Yourself?

scenes from a garage sale, Part 2

c3po.jpg Photo essay in gallery soon. I say this isn't blogging, it's place holding. Alan says I'm microblogging. Alan is a wiseass.

scenes from a garage sale

More at the photogallery later. Ah, this looks much nicer up here than the other thing did.

We don't need a map to keep this show on the road

[Update and notice: Step back and read this post again, if you've already read it. This is NOT about me hating Ana Marie Cox. It's not even about jealousy - that is soooo last week. I'm just talking about people who like to keep controversy going, especially when it should have died a quick death - and the fact that my stopping blogging now is sort of like committing suicide after getting arrested - the last thing you do is what people remember you for.] I'm at the proverbial fork in the road here and each day I inch more towards the direction towards not coming back at all. While I have contended in many comment sections around the 'sphere that my hiatus/closure here had nothing to do with the Wonkette thing, but everything to do with my mental health, it is the backlash from the Wonkette incident that has me leaning towards the dark side. Six long days after I wrote that post, I'm still getting emails and trackbacks - it seems that everytime someone writes about Ana Marie Cox now, they feel obligated to link to my little rant as well, for...what? A warped perspective? I don't know. I would like to clear up some misconceptions about the whole thing. This is not a catfight. I never even mentioned her name or blog in the original post, so it's not like I was calling her out to come fight me. AMC probably, to this day, does not even know that she has been the subject of sexism controversy the past week. The woman did nothing wrong towards me, ever (not even that stupid link about the whole Kos thing; I thought she just wasn't doing irony well there), and she is no more to blame for my dropping out of sight than I'm to blame for the Yankees sucking like a Hoover the last two games. I would like to take a minute here to be self-serving, in a way. I've been blogging three years. I have, under my blogging belt and in addition to daily posts on ASV, the following projects: * The Banned Books Project (ran in 2001 and 2002, taken over by Solonor in 2003) * Raising Hell (2001-2004) * Four Color Hell (2003 - sort of died a premature death due to my other obligations) * Pizza for IDF (ran this three times) * Trooptrax (Spring/Summer 2003) - for which I received two community service awards * Blogathon: (2002), raised money for the Daniel Pearl Foundation; (2003) raised lots of money (along with Meryl and Lair) for Magen David Adom. * Voices - (2002- present) The compendium of personal stories dealing with 9/11 * The Command Post (March 2003 - present) I think you are all pretty familiar with Command Post. During these three-plus years, I have written about subjects diverse as war, politics, baseball, comic books, parenting, video games, music, current events, Israel, mental health, movies and television, marraige and relationships, photography, art, schools, hazing and probably a hundred other subjects. I have given my all to every single thing I've written about, whether it be inconsequential pop culture candy or my raw emotions right after 9/11. I have written every single day for over three years (with very few exceptions) - there are over 6,000 posts on this Moveable Type install , and there are eight months worth of archives that aren't even represented in that, including most of my 9/11 stuff. So, if I close the blog down now - and I mean close it down permanently and forever with no reincarnation whatsoever, I will most likely be remembered - or pegged as - the girl who bitched about Wonkette's popularity. And it will be a victory for my detractors who think that my hiatus thoughts started when my Wonkette controversy began. Most of the people writing about that subject don't get it at all, but that's another story entirely and not one I really feel like writing about at the moment. I've left enough comments at these sites and more to explain myself. I don't know some of those bloggers and some of them I thought I knew well enough that they would ask me about my feelings first before going ahead and posting what they assumed to be my feelings and thoughts. Anyhow, the point of this post. Getting there. If all you can take from three years worth of blog posts and the projects mentioned above is that I'm a petty, jealous bitch, then so be it. There's really nothing I can do about that except shrug my shoulders and maybe bitch to my husband about it later on. I just think I'm more than that and I wanted to come off the hiatus to sort of defend myself and say as much. I at least owe that much to myself - no one else owes me a damn thing, nor do I expect anyone to run back to their blogs and admit that maybe they overreacted to the whole thing and read way much more into the Wonkette post than it was - and what it was, if you know my writing style at all, is a just a short little bitchfest that I've been known to produce from time to time. I guess it annoys the hell out of me that it's been turned into some kind of thesis on feminism. And it annoys me more that it's the last thing that ASV - and myself - will be remembered for. I suppose I could rectify that by coming back next week in the new form that I had talked about and just moving onward and upward and in more directions than Wonka's elevator or I could just back out of the room and leave everyone with the lasting impression of a bitter coward. I don't know. I already told Dave I was fucked and I think I did that because it would keep me from carrying on here when, in the end, it turned out to not be worth the time and aggravation at all, not for something that amounts to volunteer work where the people you are volunteering a service to just turn around and bitch at you for everything you do. What kind of person bitches about free ice cream, to use the popular blogging phrase? And then there's the email this morning from someone who decided that he will leave my side of the "alliance" in the Spirit of America challenge because my advesary has promised to "show her rack" i order to get people to align with her side and I haven't. I had to laugh to keep from screaming. The irony. Tangents, again. Which is another reason why I don't want to do this anymore, but another reason that I have to do it, if you know what I mean. What I started out saying, and what I will end up here with, is this: It's just really fucking sad that three years of work have ended being crunched down into one phrase - she's jealous of Wonkette. Whether that statement is true or not is not the issue. If I want to redeem myself, I need to come back and start blogging again (albeit, in a different way) so as not to end on such a sour note. That fork in the road is a bastard, ain't it. Bear left. Right frog. _____________________________________ (Tried without success to get an mp3 of this song.) Thanks to Tanya, you can now sing along (mp3 download). Movin' right along in search of good times and good news, With good friends you can't lose, This could become a habit! Opportunity knocks once let's reach out and grab it (yeah!), Together we'll nab it, We'll hitchhike, bus or yellow cab it! (Cab it?) Movin' right along. Footloose and fancy-free. Getting there is half the fun; come share it with me. Moving right along We'll learn to share the load. We don't need a map to keep this show on the road. (Hey, that song is sounding better Fozzie.) Movin' right along, We've found a life on the highway. And your way is my way, So trust my navigation. California here we come, the pie-in-the-sky-land. Palm trees, and warm sand. Though sadly we just left Rhode Island. (We did what?!) (Just forget it.) Movin' right along Hey LA, where've you gone? Send someone to fetch us, were in Sasketchewan! Movin' right along You take it, you know best. Hey, I've never seen the sun come up in the West? Movin' right along. We're truly birds of a feather, We're in this together and we know where we're going. Movie stars with flashy cars and life with the top down. We're storming the big town, (Yeah, Storm is right should it be snowing?) (Uh, no I don't think so...) Movin' right along, Do I see signs of men? Yeah, "welcome" on the same post that says "come back again." Moving right along, nice town! Footloose and fancy-free, You're ready for the big time... Is it ready for me? Movin' right along, Movin' right along, Movin' right along, Movin' right along.

April 17, 2004

hold music (2) - long distance dedications

ASV is mostly closed until further notice
please see here for the novel-length closing-the-place-down post
4/17: I may not be blogging, but that doesn't mean I can't give cryptic shout-outs to everyone who has sent me an email in the past two days. Long distance dedications, we'll call it. Mikey sent a nice email today. In it, he said " every time I hear "Jump Around", I think of you. Serving ass like John McEnroe." So, Jump Around. Get up, get up and get down. Download - House of Pain - Jump Around. Dedicated to Mikey, Man of Hair Metal and Porn Pack it up, pack it in Let me begin I came to win Battle me that's a sin I won't tear the sack up Punk you'd better back up Try and play the role and the whole crew will act up Get up, stand up, come on! Come on, throw your hands up If you've got the feeling jump across the ceiling Muggs is a funk fest, someone's talking junk Yo, I'll bust em in the eye And then I'll take the punks home Feel it, funk it Amps it are junking And I got more rhymes than there's cops that are dunking Donuts shop Sure 'nuff I got props from the kids on the Hill Plus my mom and my pops [Chorus] I came to get down [2x] So get out your seats and jump around Jump around [3x] Jump up Jump up and get down. Jump [18x] I'll serve your ass like John MacEnroe If your steps up, I'm smacking the ho Word to your moms I came to drop bombs I got more rhymes than the bible's got psalms And just like the Prodigal Son I've returned Anyone stepping to me you'll get burned Cause I got lyrics and you ain't got none So if you come to battle bring a shotgun But if you do you're a fool, cause I duel to the death Try and step to me you'll take your last breath I gots the skill, come get your fill Cause when I shoot ta give, I shoot to kill [Chorus] I'm the cream of the crop, I rise to the top I never eat a pig cause a pig is a cop Or better yet a terminator Like Arnold Schwarzenegger Try'n to play me out like as if my name was Sega But I ain't going out like no punk bitch Get used to one style and you know I might switch It up up and around, then buck buck you down Put out your head then you wake up in the Dawn of the Dead I'm coming to get ya, coming to get ya Spitting out lyrics homie I'll wet ya [Chorus] Jump [32x]

April 16, 2004

hold music

just because I'm not blogging doesn't mean I can't drop some music on you once in a while. maybe some of the songs are even blog posts in and of themselves, eh? Mest - Jaded There's a time and place for everything There's a reason why certain people meet There's a destination for everyone What's the explanation when were done. All the summer nights spent wondering So many questions asked But no one's answering Would it be okay if I left today Took my chances on what you said was wrong. I'm jaded, stupid and reckless not sorry When I'll never regret these years spent So faded and reckless not sorry And I'll never regret these years I'll never regret these years. Now here I sit so far away Remembering all our memories Well it's times like these when I miss you most Remembering when we were so close. I'm jaded, stupid and reckless not sorry When I'll never regret these years spent So faded and reckless not sorry And I'll never regret these years I'll never regret these years. I'll never forget the places we've been you and I Our lives are slipping away, don't want to let time pass us by.

April 15, 2004

Freedom like a shopping cart*

My first anxiety attack was in October 1980 , at a Grateful Dead concert at Radio City Music Hall. I thought it was bad pot. It wasnít. I realized this when days later the same series of physical and mental ailments began anew; shortness of breath, a feeling of impending death, the certainty that either my tongue was swelling enough to block my airwaves or my throat had closed up; the feeling of numbness in my brain, as if reality had just left town and I was now and forever stuck in a bad dream. It was all in my head, I was told. I must be anxious about something, they said. I was barely 18, just out of high school, had no real obligations in my life and I was enjoying the hell out of the freedom that holding off on college afforded me. The biggest decision I had to make at that time was whether or not to drive to Jersey the next evening (Halloween) to go see Todd Rundgren (we didnít). I was always a bit high-strung and a bit neurotic. I worry about everything, including the amount of worrying I do about worrying. I avoid social gatherings (which explains why I was standing by the doors of Radio City, almost poised to make an escape, rather than doing some moon-child freak dance in the aisles with my friends), I hate being in crowds. Every situation outside of the house is an exercise in panic avoidance. If we are going to a concert or hockey game or movie, I have to find out ahead of time where the bathrooms were, just in case I have to maneuver my way through a crowd of people to get there - I need to know the fastest, most direct route. And then I refuse to drink anything - beer, soda, water, whatever - making the possibility of having to walk all the way to the bathroom less likely. Wondering why Iíve ditched you every time I responded that I would come to one of those New York blogger bashes? I have good intentions, really. But by the time the day of the get together rolls around I realize that I cannot do it. I canít face a big group of virtually unknown people. I blew a CNN interview the same way. Blew them off at the last minute because I Just.Couldnít.Do it. I I was claustrophobic from an early age (it didnít help when my sisters locked me in a closet to test whether I was lying about my claustrophobia or not). Iím afraid of heights and afraid of water, thus giving me a fear of suspension bridges. You ever see anyone trying to drive over the GWB with their eyes closed? Iíve attempted it. Iím afraid of flying not because I think airplanes are dangerous and not because of terrorism, but due to my claustrophobia and fear of heights. I manage to get to Florida (a 2 Ĺ hour trip) if I have a drink or a handful of Excedrin PM beforehand. But donít ever expect me to meet you in California for any reason. All my anxieties and fears manifest themselves in my dreams. I can remember as far back as ten years old, dreaming about horrifying plane crashes. Iíve always had vivid, detailed, colorful dreams. There are many occurring themes, including the one where I am driving to Yankee Stadium and the Triboro bridge suddenly winds like a roller coaster and dips into the water. As I approach the part of the road that lies under the ocean, I go into full fledge panic attack and I wake up, wheezing and gasping for air. Sometimes I wake up with the feeling that my throat has been filled with ocean water and I canít breathe. Sometimes I have claustrophobia dreams and I wake up with the feeling that someone is sitting on my chest and I canít breathe. Iíve also experienced dream paralysis, where you try to wake up but canít and your legs and/or arms are like pieces of iron laying at your side. Youíre stuck in a dream, unable to move or wake yourself up. And thatís my panic history. I know there are plenty of you who can commiserate with me. Iíve read your emails, Iíve listened to your stories and itís really good to know that Iím not the only one. I never thought I was, but itís certainly comforting to know that there are people smarter and seemingly more together than I am who suffer from the same sense of panic and anxiety. I eventually learned how to get the panic attacks under control. I also learned how to arrange my life so I lessen the chances of going into full panic mode. I stay away from things that make my time bomb tick, for the most part. Well, I did. While the anxiety and low level clinical depression were always there with me, the attacks pretty much stopped. Until September 11, 2001. The events of that day and the subsequent weeks set the alarms off all over again, unleashing all the panic and anxiety that had been hovering just below level, waiting for something to spark their revolution. This was it. In a big way. The first week or two I vacillated, like most people, between sadness and anger. There was also despair and helplessness and a myriad of other feelings that were absolutely uncontrollable. I think there was hardly a person that September that didnít feel all those things. But for those of us with those angry little chemical imbalances, the trigger had been pulled. I waited a long time - until March of the following year - to see if I could get it under control myself. By the second week in March I was having about five attacks a day. I had no control over my emotions. I called in sick way too many days, spent a lot of time at home curled up in a fetal position or lashing out on ASV. I had retreated while my phobias and neuroses made their attack on my system. They won. I finally took the advice of many people and saw my doctor. The rest of that story has been told already. You can look it up if you like. For two years I experienced a combination of medical manipulation. Different doses of Paxil, combined with various doses of Wellbutrin did the trick. I am not going to go on a rant against medication. Itís wonderful. It did what it was supposed to do. I had more control over my emotions. I felt more like I was living on an even keel instead of a roller coaster. The panic attacks disappeared. Completely. I had more ambition, more energy. It was great. For a while. Two years on, I felt like the need for the medication was gone. The misery of the post-9/11 days had lessened. And while I was still experiencing a build up in my emotions, I think they are normal emotions for a politically charged person to have during a war. I no longer liked the idea of being doubly medicated every day. I wanted to be self sufficient. And, the more research I did on Paxil, the less I liked the idea of loading that garbage into my system every day. The other medications offered - Effexor and the like - seemed to be less like poison and more like what I needed, but what I really needed to be clean for a change. I wanted to go back to being myself. While the medicated me was a fairly nice person with a nice personality and all, I knew that deep down I was not myself. Forget the sexual side effects, thatís something you donít even want to know about, let alone deal with. I think my emotions were too under wrap. I barely cried anymore, when I was known for crying at Kleenex commercials. I would end arguments with my husband or children abruptly because I just didnít care. A simple fuck you, idiot was all I needed to get my point across. Thatís not healthy. I knew that. And I knew that burying my emotions was not healthy, either. So I went off the medications, both of them, and you can read all about that if you go through the April archives. Iím almost at the two week point of being drug-free. It has not been easy. It has, indeed, been hell. I have a family member who quit heroin. I joke that he had an easier time of it because at least they gave him methadone. The doctor did tell me that de-toxing would not be easy. For some people, it lasts three days or less. For others (apparently, Iím an ďotherĒ) it lasts much longer. Itís like having the flu, a hangover and drug withdrawal all at once. Iím determined to make it, though. I have the Xanax should I need it, but so far I have not even filled the prescription for it. My emotions at this time are uncontrollable. My tempers is incredibly short. My mood swings are violent and acute. Everything makes me angry, tearful, upset, scared...you name it. I donít like not being in control of myself, which is the reason I stopped doing drugs back in the early 80's. And yes, perhaps those drugs of my past have something to do with my brain of the present. But knowing that wonít make it any different, so itís not something Iím going to think to heavily about right now. I mention this to people and they ask, what kind of drugs? Itís not something I want to get into. Letís just say that I could never run for public office, or do anything in which a detailed look into my background would be necessary. But we all have those skeletons. Some of us let others see them, and some hide them. I see no shame in being human and admitting it. And I do admit that Iíve not behaved in an adult manner lately. I know this, Iím aware of it and I am trying to control that part of me that has that penchant for making enemies. This is a crazy time in my life (looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue, heh). Iím in the middle of buying a house; we have two weeks to pack up and move. Thereís the usual money issues that come with buying a house, plus Natalie needs braces and, while I finally made the last payment on my car, we do need a second car desperately. So why am I telling you all this? Well, Iíve never been one to shy away from the personal aspects of life. While I do write about war and politics, video games and comic books, music and movies, I always interspersed those topics with the personal. Some of you know more about my personal life than my family members do. I feel that because I have kept you posted about my life from the very beginning, itís only right to let you know the reason if I happen to disappear for a while. Iíve threatened this before. I claimed that I was going to go on hiatus only to come back the next day. Iíve said I was going to give it up entirely but found that I didnít have the balls to do it. I enjoy it too much. For the most part, at least. I think Iíll experiment for now. If it wasnít for the fact that I committed myself to raising money for Spirit of America next week, I might have just put up a ďgone fishingĒ sign and packed my virtual bags. But I owe it to SOA to continue with what I started. Weíll start by saying that I certainly wonít be posting anything new until Monday, when Iíll have something to say on the anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing. Weíll take it from there. I will always, no matter what I do with ASV, keep Voices open - I will even be expanding it soon. I will always be at Command Post. Youíll see me at Blogcritics from time to time. But this place has not been good for my mental health. Itís funny that Iím finally approaching the 10,000 hits a day range, and Iím thinking of calling it quits. The thing is, I think a lot of people come here for the train wreck aspect. I donít want to be anybodyís train wreck. I donít want to be the victim of rubbernecking brought on by my own drunk driving. I donít want to spend my days arguing and angry, especially now that I donít have the little blue and white pills to temper my emotions. Am I mentally unbalanced? Perhaps. But I think we all are in a way. Itís just a matter of having that Anti-Cupidís arrow of hate being shot in your ass. Some of us get it, some of us get out of the way in time. I have to spend some more time concentrating on ways to make more money, concentrating on my writing and how to turn that into a buck or two. I have to stop spending so much time doing this and doing more around the house to help my husband, who need his free time to make more art to pay more bills. Itís a vicious cycle, one we all have been a part of, or will be at some point. I will be back on Monday, that much is certain, to fulfill obligations that I want to fulfill. After that, ASV will take on a decidedly different tone, if it is still here at all. I think if I took a vote, there would be plenty of ballots cast for concentrating on gaming, comic books and all things pop culture. But Iím afraid there would be many more cast for continuing with the war/politics talk. Let me tell you straight out: that is not going to happen. Either ASV comes back as a pop culture blog or it doesnít come back at all. That is a promise to myself that I intend to keep. If I lose some readers, so be it. There are many wonderful, less bile filled blogs that concentrate on those areas and do it with diplomacy and tact instead of wielding a sharpened sword and slicing at will. Iíve made the Hulk joke many times: You wonít like me when Iím angry. Well guess what? I donít like me when Iím angry. The ASV you have been reading for the past three years is no more. Check back Monday or Tuesday to see what, if anything, is in itís place. Thank you to everyone who has kept this blog company for the past three years. Even those with whom I argue have made this a worthwhile endeavor. Iíve learned a lot from all of you. Iíve learned so much about myself, about politics, the world and the goodness of people. Iíve made tons of wonderful friends, friends who have promised to let me vent to them whenever I get the urge to open up my Moveable Type page and blog politics again. I've lived and learned through this blog in ways I never thought possible. I've "met" people I never would have known existed, and I've read their words and shared their pains and successes. I've had millions of visitors to this place. Millions. I have a hard time comprehending that. To everyone who has graced me with their presence here, thank you. I think I've done more good than harm here. A million click throughs, a million differente opinions, a million different takes on the same subject. I've seen a million faces an I've rocked them all. Iíd like to think, anyhow. *At first glance, you may not understand why this song applies, but if you stare at it a while, like one of those 3d pictures, the truth reveals. Freedom like a shopping cart, indeed. A Christian, an anarchist-slashprostitute, figures out the true meaning of freedom Not freedom like America, freedom like a shopping cart Kick back, no tense, you got a bag of grub it cost you about 50 cents No fear, no fuckin feats, malt liquor tastes much better on the streets Crustin, a way of life for heroines and heroes who hitchike the road to Eden Not Eden like the garden state, Eden like the state of mind Kick back, cheap thrills, you'll do anything for a lugh even if it kills you The bridge you took it out, the ticket takers suddenly lost count Sleeping under rays, your teeth crumbling away, say goodbye To all responsibility, you never wanted it man Wasting time whenever you get the chance Which happens to be all the time Kick back, free meals A couple of times a day you make a coupe if shady deals No work, no fuckin pay Cardboard condiminium by the bay You're between the red and black, you're never goin' back Say goodbye, to all responsibility You never wanted it man -NOFX Update: You can download the whole song at Amazon

another ASV soldier

The first victim has fallen in my battle to bring all the Blogmosis family of blogs into my Spirit of America alliance. From Matt: asvsoa1.jpe Thank you, Matt. I will no confer upon you the title of Alliance Secretary of Logos. Note to Dean: I think we need to play fair in at least one aspect of this. Anyone who has already chosen a side and/or claimed their allegiance to one of us (or an offshoot alliance) should be off limits. Let's not waste our time trying to get people to change sides. Let's concentrate on bringing in new soldiers for our respective armies.

the breaking point is nearing

I was engaged in a debate in Oliver's comments in his post about the Jersey Girl widows. I find the level of discourse at Oliver's to be almost enjoyable. He welcomes both sides of the issues in his comments and has plenty of readers on both sides, which makes for good debate. Even August, who is probably my opposite in everything political, can engage in a decent conversation over at OW's. But there's always one to spoil the party. One Thurber Hamm left this comment in relation to a comment I left earlier where I said something about the loss my family suffered on 9/11: bq. If you actually suffered the loss you claim (forgive me but, in cyberspace people can claim anything they want to. Ever hear of the Nigerian scam?).... I think I just officially gave up. On everything. Not worth it.

Spirit of American/Blog Challenge Update

See previous post for details I had to rip this off of "Howard' Dean Esmay's site because I'm short on time at the moment. Changes made accordingly. Iraq TV Update Okay. We've arranged things with the Spirit of America folks. Starting Monday or Tuesday of next week, we will run a 10-day campaign to raise funds for U.S. Marines to equip TV stations in Iraq. Already two alliances have formed: All the really cool icky webloggers have begun lining up behind Dean's World, while a bunch of dastardly no-goodniks incredibly astute, smarty and sexy bloggers/non-bloggers have joined ASV. (Fools! We'll destroy them all!) (ASV Rooolz Dean's World DrooOoLz!) You could, of course, form your own alliance, like John of Argghhh!, who we all despise love a lot (although we are now engaging in back-room maneuvering to get them to throw in with our forces) (and who will eventually cave and join forces with ASV because nobody can resist the power of the force). Within the next day or so we will have a mechanism set up with Spirit of America so each alliance will have its own donations page on the Spirt of America web site. So people who want to donate can simply link to that site/alliance's page and make their donation through that. Very easy, very simple. More info to come. Remember, we're going to look to kick off early next week! By the way, [Stinky Dean will] talk to the Spirit of America folks about those of you who've already donated who want it to be credited to A Small Victory or Dean's World Stinky World or whatever. Shouldn't be an issue, we're pretty tight with these folks due to Operation Give and such. Also by the way, Michele's a big stinky head force to be reckoned with. Assimilate or die a slow, agonizing death. Oh, one more thing. Rosemary (wife of Stinky Dean) thinks she can help Dean's World win this just by showing off her ample buxom skanky boobs. Which gives me the woman/gay man vote. I'm not promising skin. But I do have better things to offer you for your allegiance. Stay tuned.

MeFi jumps the political shark

Woke up and both cable modem and cable tv were out. I've barely looked at my mail and I got only a glimpse of the news (bin Laden tape) on Curtis and Kuby radio this morning before some weird electrical thing interefered with the station. The only email I've looked at so far is from someone who sent me a link to this MetaFilter thread about the Spirit of America/Television initiative. Only on MeFi can they take an action that is meant to support the troops and help the Iraq people and call it propaganda. I used to love MeFi. I can barely look at it anymore. And, of course, there's the ever present August ready to shoot down anything that is vaguely pro-American or will help make American soldiers look good in any way. You people suck. I don't care if you hate Bush, really. That's your prerogative. It still is a free country despite your Aschroft/Big Brother rants. What bothers me is when people take an issue like this and turn it on its head so it turns out to be A Bad Thing. And the comments about how al Jazeera is a legitimate voice [It is mostly independent, and it is definitely trying hard to be part of mainstream world journalism, NOT some sinister force of darkness that many Americans seem to think it is.] leave me unsure as whether to laugh or cry. It must be hard work to live your life in such a complete state of negativity. I've had my last look at MeFi, which is a shame. I'm sure Matt - while he is a liberal (but not a flaming asshole liberal) - did not intend for MeFi to become what it is today - a Democratic Underground for people who think they are political intellectuals. Right. Got a lot of mail and news to catch up on. Just had to get that out of the way. Update: Even Iraqis know that al Jazeera is completely biased. But since when does the left pay any attention to what Iraqis think? The anti-war protesters seem to know more about what Iraqis feel than Iraqis themselves do. [thanks, Meryl]

April 14, 2004

Mars, bitches!

Black Bush = Best Chappelle skit ever.

alive, broke and jittery. Beeyotch.

Oh, I'm sorry. Have I gone six hours without a post again? I know you care about my well being, but an email asking if I'm still alive is not necessary, thank you. What have I been up to this evening? I was on the phone with the great Satan known as PayPal for about an hour while I convinced them that yes, I do know my own bank account number it doesn't have eleven zeros in it like they claim. I was mulling over the fact that Natalie needs braces and my dental insurance sucks. I was trying desperately to pack. Moving day is in two weeks. You would never know it from looking around here. I was crying because we close on the house on Friday and the closing costs alone are what some people in other states pay for houses. 13k. Yes, that is $13,000. Gotta love Long Island. I am still detoxing from the Paxil and Wellbutrin stoppage. It is hell, as I've been saying over and over to anyone who would listen the past few days. I'm sure heroin withdrawal is harder, but at least they give you methadone to tide you over when you go off the smack. That should stem the tide of "where are you" emails for the evening. It's Chappelle time. Bitch.

Charity Blogfight! Alliances forming now!

No, no jello wrestling or bikinis involved. Sorry. This morning I posted about Spirit of America raising money to help the Marines create an television station in Iraq that will serve to dispense truth and dispel the lies of al Jazeera. Read it here. I dropped the hint that you should donate some money. Dean dropped the same hint to his readers. And a challenge was born. Before you read further, keep in mind that Dean and I came up with this "war" together as a fun way to help raise the money for the Marines. He's already thrown down the gauntlet. I accept the challenge. A Small Victory and the readers of this blog will - I have no doubt about that - raise more money for the Spirit of America cause than Dean's blog/readers. SOA is going to be setting something up so the tally for each blog will be easy to track. The battle will not start until Monday, so hold off your donations until then. That gives you about four full days to decide who you will align yourself with - "Howard" Dean Esmay or myself. Of course, I've already got one blog signed up on my side - The Command Post and it's posse of 20,000 or so readers. And I've got you. Right? I hope you know what the correct answer to that question is. So while the monetary tallies won't start until Monday, the blogging alliance tally begins now. If you want to join your blog and your bevy of readers up with mine (the winning side), link to this post, give the challenge a plug and leave a comment. If you don't have a blog but you want to join in, just sign your name in the comments. Remember, this is all for a good cause and the alliance/money challenge is just a way to entice you all into coughing up some bucks for the Marines and their tv station. More information will be forthcoming. If you have any questions, just send me an email. Dean - the hammer is down. I own you. dOOd-I pWn U! U r teh suck and I am teh haWt!!!!11!!!1! Update: You don't have to go with either of our alliances, you know. Feel free to form your own. The more bloggers involved, the more money for the cause!

Tawdry Ambition

New York Post editorial:
The national 9/11 commission has been hijacked by political shills -- men and women eager to subordinate truth to partisan advantage; who hold a transitory victory on Election Day more dear than American victory in the war on terror. Tawdry ambition has eclipsed sacred duty; all Americans are diminished, but none more than the families of the 9/11 victims -- who expect better from the commission, and certainly deserve it. Unless it is the thousands of young Americans now under arms in Iraq and elsewhere; their bravery and devotion to duty is inspirational. How shameful that the commission attack dogs hold their sacrifices so cheaply. And John F. Kerry, who presumes to the presidency, acquiesces. What a disgrace.
An open letter from 9/11 surivors and families:
Forty relatives of 9/11 victims are slamming the so-called independent investigation into the Sept. 11 attacks, saying that too many on the panel are using the probe to "grandstand for political gain" in a bid to damage President Bush in an election year. In an open letter released to the New York Post on Tuesday, the 9/11 relatives blamed the commission for fostering "the incredible notion" that President Bush knew 9/11 was coming and did nothing. "I see the commission going partisan and that's not the way it's supposed to be. If it does that, it will be nothing but a political disgrace," former United Firefighters Association chief Jimmy Boyle, whose firefighter son Michael died on 9/11, told the paper. Instead, said Boyle, Bush deserved praise for the way he's conducted the war on terror since 9/11, saying, "It's a whole new world as of Sept. 12 and I believe President Bush is the right man."
But who gets all the press? Three women with a uniform hatred for Bush. Maybe if Jimmy Boyle was cute and fiery and was a widow instead of "just" a fireman who lost a son, people would pay more attention to him. But Jimmy Boyle isn't good tv. He isn't good copy. I mean, after all, who wants to hear from someone that thinks Bush is doing a good job or that Bush isn't to blame for what happened on 9/11? Bush cheerleaders just are not in vogue. You want press? Put on your "Anyone But Bush" t-shirt, suck up to the 9/11 commission and turn your back on a country that did everything they possibly could for you after your husband was killed by a raving lunatic and his merry band of murderers. To paraphrase Public Enemy, The 9/11 commission is a joke. Interesting paraphrasing there, seeing as that Bush has suddenly become Public Enemy number one to Democrats and partisan hacks. Come to think of it, he's also the main enemy of al Qaeda, al Sadr's troops, Hamas, the Iran Mullahs and a host of other terrorist organizations. Strange bedfellows, eh? I think I'll cut this one off before the broken record starts skipping again.

Must See TV

Tonight's guest judge on American Idol is..... Quentin Tarantino. He promises to be "brutally honest." This is going to be good.

a little diversion: the dude abides, but not by 55!

Who wants to do all war/politics all the time? Not me. That's what I have Command Post for. My good friend Carol, who always recognizes when I'm ripe for a diversion, sent me this list from Premiere Magazine: 100 greatest movie characters of all time. They just list the characters, not the movies they represent. Some of them are pretty self evident, some may not be immediately apparent except to film buffs. After you peruse the list and figure out where each character comes from, you can list your own fave movie characters. Don't be shy about epxlaining your choices. I'm really trying to keep the tone down today. See, I've got no ass-fucking, but I'm still kind of fun! Characters listed below. My choices later. And I really have to take issue with some of the names on the list. Judy Benjamin? No way. And number 55 should be in the top five. Update: Judging from the comments, we could make a list of top 100 movie characters not listed on Premiere's top 100 movie characters. 100. Roger Kint 99. Kevin McCallister 98. Antoine Doinel 97. Ace Ventura 96. Tommy DeVito 95. Oda Mae Brown 94. Rose Sayer 93. Harry Lime 92. Dil 91. Mrs. Iselin 90. John Malkovich 89. Sandy Olsson 88. Raymond Babbitt 87. Jack Sparrow 86. Melanie Daniels 85. Stanley Kowalski 84. Darth Vader 83. William Cutting 82. Jack Torrance 81. Aurora Greenway 80. Sam Spade 79. Hans Beckert 78. Max Rockatansky 77. Annie Wilkes 76. Tony Manero 75. Dr. Strangelove 74. Tony Montana 73. Norma Rae 72. Lloyd Dobler 71. Harry Powell 70. Judy Benjamin 69. Terry Malloy 68. Alex DeLarge 67. Jacques Clouseau 66. Navin Johnson 65. Edward Scissorhands 64. Rocky Balboa 63. Carrie White 62. John Shaft 61. J.J. Hunsecker 60. George Bailey 59. Bill Kilgore 58. Phyliss Dietrichson 57. Tom Powers 56. Alan Swann 55. The Dude 54. Frank Booth 53. Ninotchka 52. Howard Beale 51. Freddy Krueger 50. Blondie 59. Chance the Gardener 48. John Blutarsky 47. Mrs. Robinson 46. John McClane 45. Mary Poppins 44. Jules Winnfield 43. Forrest Gump 42. Harry Callahan 41. Jane Craig 40. The Terminator 39. Michael Dorsey 38. Willy Wonka 37. Jake Gittes 36. Alex Forrest 35. Dr. Evil 34. Bonnie Parker 33. Ratso Rizzo 32. Holly Golightly 31. Norma Desmond 30. King Kong 29. Daphne / Jerry 28. Captain Quint 27. Marge Gunderson 26. E.T. 25. Gordon Gekko 24. The Little Tramp 23. Ethan Edwards 22. Travis Bickle 21. Susan Vance 20. Virgil Tibbs 19. Rick Blaine 18. Carl Spackler 17. Dorothy Gale 16. Robin Hood 15. Hannibal Lecter 14. Randle Patrick McMurphy 13. Atticus Finch 12. Charles Foster Kane 11. Margo Channing 10. Gollum 9. Jeff Spicoli 8. Ellen Ripley 7. Indiana Jones 6. Annie Hall 5. James Bond 4. Norman Bates 3. Scarlett O'Hara 2. Fred C. Dobbs 1. Vito Corleone

Help U.S. Marines Equip TV Stations in Iraq

From the Spirit of America website: req_12.jpe
US Marines seek to equip seven (7) television stations serving local communities within Al Anbar Province, Iraq. The Province includes the cities of Fallujah and Ramadi. These stations will offer information that is more accurate and balanced than existing alternatives. The goal is to improve understanding between Americans and Iraqis, build trust and reduce tensions. Current TV news in Iraq often carries negative, highly-biased accounts of the U.S. presence. Unanswered, its effect is to stoke resentment and encourage conflict. The Marines seek to ensure the Iraqi people have access to better, more balanced information. By equipping local television stations and providing the ability to generate news and programming, the Marines will create a viable news alternative - one owned and operated by local Iraqi citizens.
Read the rest and donate. I'm going to do what I can by donating a free ad on ASV to the cause. If Paypal wasn't holding my money hostage, I would donate cash. But that's another story.

Today's math lesson

There is a direct correlation between being linked on a political post at Metafilter and the amount of vile, vulgar, poorly constructed, juvenile hate mail one receives.

Wither America

bq. The person responsible for the attacks was Osama bin Laden. Thatís whoís responsible for killing Americans. And thatís why we will stay on the offense until we bring people to justice. This was probably my favorite thing the president said last night, in the face of some really bad questions. It's a simple fact, really, yet one that for some reason needs to be shoved down the throats of the rabid witch hunters of the left time and time again. The Demorats have nerve to talk about Iraq being a distraction to Afghanistan, when the 9/11 commission is the real distraction to the war on terror at large. The partisan badgering of those in office on the day some murdering extremists struck our nation is keeping us from looking at the present and the future. What will finger pointing do? What will all the sniping and belligerence accomplish? I say this as someone who lost friends on 9/11, as someone who, to this day, is psychologically scarred by the events of that day, as someone whose family was deeply and personally affected by crumbling of those towers. bq. Q Do you feel a sense of personal responsibility for September 11th? I don't know who asked that one, but I want to smack him across the face. Bush is no more responsible for 9/11 than Clinton was the first WTC bombing. Let's hold repsonsible for these actions those who committed them. bq. Q: Two weeks ago, a former counterterrorism official at the NSC, Richard Clarke, offered an unequivocal apology to the American people for failing them prior to 9/11. Do you believe the American people deserve a similar apology from you, and would you be prepared to give them one? Richard Clarke's apology was not unequivocal. It was self-serving grandstanding. It was his way of thumbing his nose at the president and his administration. I hope Bush never apologizes to the United States for the events of 9/11, because that would be admitting fault, and he has none here. None at all. Nothing in the world could have prevented those planes from swinging into the towers and the Pentagon and falling in a field in PA except for a very accurate crystal ball. As far as I know, the White House has yet to acquire one of those. bq. Q Thank you, Mr. President. In the last campaign, you were asked a question about the biggest mistake you'd made in your life, and you used to like to joke that it was trading Sammy Sosa. You've looked back before 9/11 for what mistakes might have been made. After 9/11, what would your biggest mistake be, would you say, and what lessons have you learned from it? His biggest mistake is in thinking the press wants the truth when all they want is sensational headlines, frightening ledes and Pulitizer prizes. Another mistake he made is in thinking the press is fair. They are not. bq. Q I guess I just wonder if you feel that you have failed in any way? You don't have many of these press conferences, where you engage in this kind of exchange. Have you failed in any way to really make the case to the American public? There's obviously a reason he doesn't have these conferences too often. When confronted with questions like these, the conferences turn more into a partisan grilling section, with the press playing like Ben Veniste on Condi. You can almost see the foam dripping from their mouths as they behave like lawyers badgering a witness. I'm not naive enough to think that the job of the press is to make the president look good or even to make the country look good. But I do believe in a fair press, in reporters that want to the truth and not just their twisted version of the truth, where they frame their questions in such a way that there is no right or good answer. I thought, as Americans, that we were all on the same side. I thought we all valued freedom and we would value a president who wants to spread freedom, not hatred. Yes, there are many things going on in Iraq that worry me. Which is why I think there were so many more questions that could have been asked. This looking for blame for 9/11 has to stop. The push to get the president to admit culpability and to apologize for something other people did has got to stop. Somehwere in an Arab country, a bunch of militants and terrorists are watching the tape of last night's interview, maybe even tapes of the 9/11 commisson are laughing at us, patting each other on the back and saying, mission accomplished. When did we become at war with each other? When did the Democrats and the left become so concerned with cornering the president into admitting guilt for something he didn't do that they have forgotten we are at war and we have a common enemy who happen to carry bombs and harbor a deep hatred for all of us, Democrat or Republican or socialist or whatever political persuasion you may present? I thought America was supposed to stand together at times like these. Heh. Maybe I am naive. Maybe I'm a hopeless, patriotic romantic who thinks that war and the potential of terrorist threats upon our soil required that we act in concert with each other, not against each other. If we don't get it together soon there will be more dead soldiers, more warfronts, more buildings falling and people dying. The press has the power to pull us together. Instead, they choose play upon our differences, to make those differences more pronounced and to make a great divide even wider. What the hell happened to us? And where is all this finger pointing and blame shifting going to get us?

The person responsible for the attacks was Osama bin Laden. Thatís whoís responsible for killing Americans. And thatís why we will stay on the offense until we bring people to justice.

Repeat the above phrase over and over. You must learn. [Transcribed questions from Ed] Update: "...I don't give two shits today, because what's done is done. The only thing I care about is what happens tomorrow to stop another Sept. 11 from happening again." Read the whole thing. Amen, brother.

April 13, 2004

final word of the evening

After a review. my final take on tonight's speech. I am damn proud this man is my president. His resolve, his determination and his sincerety are just some of the reasons I will be voting for him in Novemeber. The White House press corp, on the other hand, should be ashamed of themselves.

number one in the hood, G

There are few things that could make my heart soar more than these words: Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Five nights a week. I will sleep the sleep of the content tonight. (Yes, I knew about this weeks ago, I just kept forgetting to blog it)

speech commentary

Wow. First question had the word quagmire in it. You should be in the TCP chat. Lots of great commentary in there. When are the reporters going to come up with some new questions? We are a year into the war - there is so much going on in Fallujah and Najaf right now - why are they asking the same WMD questions that they have been asking - and gotten answers for - for a full year? Quote from TCP chat: "Mr. President, can you tell me what date the quagmire will begin and what date it will end?" and: "love this...9/11--why didn't you pre-empt on little evidence? Iraq...why DID you pre-empt on even better evidence?" Holy arrogance, batman! The press are circling like sharks. You never admit a mistake?? TCP quote: "We are going to slay you if you admit any errors...why won't you admit errors?" Bush is looking pissed off. Good. I'm liking his answers and his forcefulness. OH MY GOD!!! He had the nerve to blame UBL for 9/11! Doesn't he know that he and Clinton and the FBI are to blame? Sheesh. He's speaking as if he is a kindergarten teacher explaining hte concept of math to a class. And it's sad that he has to. These reporters are like petulant little kids. Heh: "Claire: No, really, GWB. G'head and use the Big Purple Crayon" Well, that went both ways. Some good, some bad. But damn, the press are wankers.

Tuesday Night Jukebox: Got You Covered

jukebox.gifContinuing with last night's theme of cover songs, because one can never have too many covers in their collection. * You can't go two nights talking about covers without bringing up Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. Covers is all they do. But unlike your basic bar band that struggles every Friday night to perfect the right combo of sexy and scary as they cover Riders on the Storm, Me First has quite the punk pedigree. The story behind this song (or why I like it). When my kids were very young (which would be when Space Jam came out), they loved to sing this song. They even made up a little skit to go along with it and would put on a show anytime we had company. Eventually, they got me to sing along with them and it became more like a really bad, overwrought caberet act. At some point we stopped performing the song because the kids got older and it became a bit embarassing to be singing with your mom. Especially an R. Kelly song. So, when we bought this cd and discovered that the Gimmes had covered I Believe I Can Fly, our caberet act became cool again. Well, only to us. And don't tell anyone, but the original still makes me tear up. (download) * Sevendust - Going Back to Cali', originally done by L.L. Cool J. This totally works, because where LL (mmm....LL) was smooth, Lajon is both smooth and surly. As great as the original, with an extra edge. (download) * Refused - Bullet, originally by the Misfits. One night I'll do just a whole collection of Misfist covers. Refused was an amazing punk/hardcore band that were either way ahead of their time or just really odd in that "what do you mean we're odd?" way. They hailed from Sweden and any hardcore that comes out of Sweden is generally good. And odd. In that endearing kind of way. Perhaps tomorrow night I'll upload one of Refused's own songs, but tonight they do the Misfits and they do it well. For those unfamiliar with song, you can get the subject by this line: Kennedy's shattered head hits concrete, Ride, Johnny ride. Yep, Texas is the reason. (download) * Quicksand covering The Smiths' How Soon is Now. I wrote about this song (the orginal version) here, in one of my Five Songs I Can't Live Without essays. This is by far the best of about 100 cover songs of HSIN. Quicksand was another amazing hardcore band, whose song Thorn in My Side ranks among the best songs in the history of the world. At least, according to me. Another one I may upload for you tomorrow. For now, here they are doing morose Morrisey. (download) * Last but not least - far be it from me to let two nights in a row go by without a mention of Mike Patton. Here, Mike and FNM cover the BeeGees in such a way that make you forget the brothers Gibb ever existed. While the original was close to a masterpiece, Patton takes it one step further and makes the song an exercise in wallowing self-pity, tinged with enough despair and sadness to make you break out in tears even if you aren't drunk and PMS. His voice is next to godliness. No, his voice is godliness. (download) And that's tonight's jukebox. As always, give me a short review of the songs you download. I'd like to know what you think of my selections. (And if you aren't doing anything important in about twenty minutes, don't forget that there's a Command Post chat tonight)

PSA (and another musical note)

I'm listening to the bloggers of the Northern Alliance taking over the Hugh Hewitt show. Listen live right now. Good stuff. I think I'm going with cover songs again tonight. I have some great stuff I want to upload, including Sevendust doing Goin' Back to Cali'.

Musical Note

You have about half an hour to download last night's jukebox selections if you haven't already. They will be taken down soon so I can prepare to upload tonight's selections. I'm thinking of going with a political theme. Or not. I'm open to suggestsions.

TCP Chat Tonight: BYOB

The Command Post chat room will be open tonight for the President's speech. Stop by TCP at about 8:15 for the link to the room. Bring your shot glasses, just in case we need to liven things up a bit. Courtesy of Ed, the proper protocol for the evening:
Presidential Press Conference Drinking Game: - Take a shot every time a reporter uses the word ďmessĒ in a question about Iraq; - Take two shots the first time a reporter mentions ď3 million jobs lostĒ; - Take two shots every time the word ďVietnamĒ is spoken; - The first time the Aug. 6 PDB is mentioned in a question, chug a beer; - If a reporter asks about the FCC crackdown take a shot; - If Howard Sternís name is mentioned, do a shot and chug a beer
I'll be sober because one of us has to maintain a sense of decorum and keep the conversation focused on the speech. And I don't really condone making light of the president's speech while he is talking about war and death. However, once the reporters get in the act, all bets are off. Bottoms up! [You can add your own suggestions, as Laurence already has. I think I'll be chugging Advil and water]

Discuss (updated several times)

St. Petersburg Dem Club calls for Rumsfeld's death click for bigger This is also an ad for Kerry for President. I wonder if Kerry knows about this? I wonder how the Dems of St. Petersburg feel about this? I wonder if Ken now thinks it was a bad idea to put his phone number on the flyer. Anyone know the area code for St. Petersburg? via Drudge (via a comment) Also, please note this is not some far left moron factory putting this out. It's not Indymedia, it's not DU, it's not Answer. It is the St. Petersburg Democrat Club. A little Googling finds out that one member of this club is Dr. Emily Baker of the Applied Ethics Institute, part of the St. Petersburg Jr. College. Here is a direct quote from Democratic MeetUp Party from the St. Petersburg area: bq. dvlzdnce (04/13): When will we be having a meet up to discuss carrying out the plans concerning Rumsfeld as advertised by the St. Petersburg Democratic Club? Update: I really can't see Kerry being held responsible for this. Even if he is aware of it, I hardly think he's stupid enough to condone it. Basically, this is like holding a blogger responsible for their commenters threatening the lives of someone the blogger linked to. Which is to say, doesn't hold water. But...these people are passing themselves off as part of the Democratic party and if the Dem party of St. Petersburg has any sense, they will ask them to cease these idiotic ramblings. These people may be fringe, but they still exist. Just because they don't number in the millions doesn't mean they aren't dangerous or shouldn't be called out for their actions. And that is why I care what they say, thanks for asking. Update II: Ed Moltzen has a small but powerful roundup of stupid things lefties have said.

Answering Grandpa Rooney's Questions

Thanks to Dave from MA (former Long Islander!) for answering old man Rooney's questions. Dave was deployed to Iraq last year with the 106th Rescue Wing. Visit him at Humptyblog, where he has posted fabulous photos from Iraq.
1. Do you think your country did the right thing sending you into Iraq? Yes, and so did everyone around me. 2. Are you doing what America set out to do to make Iraq a democracy, or have we failed so badly that we should pack up and get out before more of you are killed? We did what we were there to do, no thanks to douchebags like you. 3. Do the orders you get handed down from one headquarters to another, all far removed from the fighting, seem sensible, or do you think our highest command is out of touch with the reality of your situation? They never seem sensible, but the farthest HQ we had to deal with was in Qatar, and they weren't out of touch at all. 4. If you could have a medal or a trip home, which would you take? I hate this question. How about a democratic Iraq, followed by a democratic Middle East? And maybe a 1-way trip to Iraq for cock-jockeys like you. 5. Are you encouraged by all the talk back home about how brave you are and how everyone supports you? Ignoring your sarcasm, yes, we were encouraged by it. We were not encouraged by Time magazine's cover "Mission Not Accomplished!", among other things.
Thank you, Dave. Anyone else?

Andy Rooney: "Our Soldiers Aren't Heroes"

I don't think I ever once cared about anything that Andy Rooney had to say. Well, there's a first time for everything. Yesterday - as has been widely reported already - Rooney posted five questions for our soldiers:
1. Do you think your country did the right thing sending you into Iraq? 2. Are you doing what America set out to do to make Iraq a democracy, or have we failed so badly that we should pack up and get out before more of you are killed? 3. Do the orders you get handed down from one headquarters to another, all far removed from the fighting, seem sensible, or do you think our highest command is out of touch with the reality of your situation? 4. If you could have a medal or a trip home, which would you take? 5. Are you encouraged by all the talk back home about how brave you are and how everyone supports you?
Let that all sink in. Go ahead, read them again. I'm going to ignore 1-3 for now. Lots of folks have covered them already. Check Misha and Bastard Sword. Read Rantburg. Question number four: 4. If you could have a medal or a trip home, which would you take? Giving the soldiers these two choices is like putting a puppy and a child in front of a man and asking, which would you rather stab with a fork? No matter what the answer, the man will be viewed as a terrible person. Andy does not give the soldiers an opporunity to say - neither, I would much rather stay here and win this thing and come home in one piece, medal or not. Which, I believe, most of them would say. The question Rooney presents is very leading. He wants a certain answer that will allow him to rip apart the soldier doing the answering. So he asks the question in such a way tht is designed to give Rooney ammunition for the ensuing rant. Much in the same way 60 minutes conducts a lot of its interviews. So let's ask some other people the question, but let's be fair and put a third choice in there, which would be c) other. Lt. Smash? Sgt. Hook? Chief Wiggles? Black Five? Baldilocks? How would you soldiers answer that? Oh, Baldilocks gets off a good one on Andy: If someone loved you, Mr. Rooney, theyíd stop you from drooling in public. Now, question number five: 5. Are you encouraged by all the talk back home about how brave you are and how everyone supports you? This man is paid to interview people and this is what he comes up with? Well, no sir. We actually hate it when people encourage us. We hate when they call us brave and support us. We really like those other guys, the ones who call for our death. What a complete bucket of slop that question is. What kind of answer is Rooney looking for? Oh, he probably is just waiting to hear this "Please don't support us, America. We are bad people doing a bad thing. Mommy, I want to go home! They are making me kill terrorirsts!" Here's the real question Rooney should pose instead: Are you discouraged by the amount of American people supporting the insurgency? How does it feel to know that you are here putting your ass on the line so we don't end up on the receiving end of a massive bomb someday and there are people in San Fran marching the streets with signs calling for the insurgents to kill you? Are you discouraged by the show of support for al Sadr and Saddam's thugs right here in the U.S.? How do you respond when you finally get to see some U.S. news and you're greeted by people marching on the White House depicting you as a murderer who deserves to die? How do you feel when you see people calling for your withdrawal so that everything you have worked for so far will be all for nothing? And how do you feel knowing that your family back home is confronted everyday with images of your fellow soldiers being kidnapped, killed and maimed and there are an awful lot of people, your neighbors even, who think this is ok because soldiers deserve that? And I would add one thing to that: How do you feel about Andy Rooney asking these questions at all? Rooney has the right to ask these things of the soldiers. First ammendment and all that. You know, that thing they never had in Iraq. Free speech, I believe it's called. But once Rooney makes his senile, batty questions public, he is open to the backlash that comes with it, and he is open to people questioning his patriotism. Yes, his patriotism. Anyone who can look a soldier in the eye and ask the question Are you doing what America set out to do to make Iraq a democracy, or have we failed so badly that we should pack up and get out before more of you are killed? is willfully, knowingly and deliberatley contributing to lowering the morale of our troops. Rooney should have give it up a long time ago. I say this not just because of these questions he came up with. I always questioned the wisdom of having this man on television. He has nothing to offer the world. His segments on 60 minutes are usually nothing more than the blusterings of a man who has yet to figure out that watching him is like watching corrosive acid leak out of a battery. In a different time, Rooney might have been fired for saying such things as he said in his column. The one titled: Our soldiers in Iraq aren't heroes bq. Treating soldiers fighting their war as brave heroes is an old civilian trick designed to keep the soldiers at it. But you can be sure our soldiers in Iraq are not all brave heroes gladly risking their lives for us sitting comfortably back here at home.

Our soldiers in Iraq are people, young men and women, and they behave like people - sometimes good and sometimes bad, sometimes brave, sometimes fearful. It's disingenuous of the rest of us to encourage them to fight this war by idolizing them. But this is the new America. It's ok to talk about our brave (yes, brave) soldiers like that. It's ok, because America is evil and our soldiers are just the minions of Satan doing his bidding. It's ok, because Bush is a bad, bad man who willfully let 9/11 happen on his watch just so he can be a war president. It's ok because, even though we are at war with militant religious zealots who would prefer that the whole world be under their power, America must somehow be in the wrong to want to stop that. This is a very sad, sad time in this country. When people as famous and well-read as Andy Rooney can sit back from the comfort of their easy chairs and kick our soldiers in the balls and people just shrug, then we can honestly say this country has gone to hell and the people who encourage the enemies against our soldiers are leading the conga line into the furnace. And they are grinning. You win, Andy. You've taken the idea that our soldiers are evil out of the DU/Indymedia closet and brought it to the mainstream. You've put the idea out that our soldiers would like the opportunity to choose between a medal and a trip home, job in Iraq be damned. You've put the idea into their heads that the people in the states are somehow wrong for encouraging and supporting them. You've given them the idea that we are all sitting here in the states laughing and pointing at their commanders. Oh, there are people doing that. But they are a very small fraction of us. Unfortunately, the squeaky one gets the press and when someone with the fame of an Andy Rooney starts squeaking, the press starts feeding it all the cheese it wants. Squeaky mice make for good sound bites and great stories. The press no longer thinks yellow ribbons and support for soldiers is worthy of a few paragraphs or a segment on the ten o'clock news. Yep, you guys have won. Congratulations. When the soldiers in Baghdad turn on CNN, they'll hear about Rooney and the anti-war protests and their morale will sink. Just what you wanted, isn't it? Good work, Rooney. Good work, media. Nice job, anti-war crowd. Figuratively speaking, you've just fucked our soldiers up the ass. Update: Jim has more. And a good rant here.

April 12, 2004

late to the party

I know, you all know about the Kerry Sloganator already. I'm behind in my linkage. Sloganator Gallery

Four Songs in the Jukebox

I'm in a generous mood today, so all requests granted. * First up is one of my favorite bands-that no-longer-exist, Far, doing The Pixies This Monkey's Gone to Heaven. Personally, I think it's a fantatsic cover. (download) * Next is The Toadies, another favorite band of mine, doing The Pixies Where is My Mind. It's live, it's got some banter in the beginning, but all in all a decent rendition. (download) * Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue - Where the Wild Roses Grow. Beautiful, haunting, amazing piece of work, as is everything Nick Cave touches. (download) * Rammstein doing Depeche Mode's Stripped. Yes, it's strange, in that Rammstein sort of way. I think the deep voice works here. Depeche Mode purists may hate it, but I love DM and I obsess over Rammstein, so the song is pure joy for me. Well, perhaps joy is not the right word. Let's just say this would make a great song to have playing in a movie while the scene where the bad man slowly torturing/killing the beautiful victim plays out. (download) I've included the lyrics to Wild Roses below. Now, I was generous enough to upload these for you - you can take a few minutes to give a review of what you download. (by the way - you've got 24 hours to download before they disappear to make room for tomorrow night's jukebox) They call me The Wild Rose But my name was Elisa Day Why they call me it I do not know For my name was Elisa Day From the first day I saw her I knew she was the one She stared in my eyes and smiled For her lips were the colour of the roses That grew down the river, all bloody and wild When he knocked on my door and entered the room My trembling subsided in his sure embrace He would be my first man, and with a careful hand He wiped at the tears that ran down my face [Chorus] On the second day I brought her a flower She was more beautiful than any woman I'd seen I said, "Do you know where the wild roses grow So sweet and scarlet and free?" On the second day he came with a single red rose Said: "Will you give me your loss and your sorrow" I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed He said, "If I show you the roses, will you follow?" [Chorus] On the third day he took me to the river He showed me the roses and we kissed And the last thing I heard was a muttered word As he knelt (stood smiling) above me with a rock in his fist On the last day I took her where the wild roses grow And she lay on the bank, the wind light as a thief And I kissed her goodbye, said, "All beauty must die" And lent down and planted a rose between her teeth

Monday Night Jukebox

Thanks to everyone who sent the link to the Andy Rooney article. I'll take on that blustering windbag in the morning. It's time for the nightly singalong. Here's your choices: * Two Pixies covers * Kylie Minogue and Nick Cave duet * Rammstein doing Depeche Mode Your call. Most votes befor 9pm gets uploaded.

Legend of the Permalink

It has come to my attention that many people erroneously believe that little gif in my posts (the one I use for hte permalink) to be Peter Pan. You people are hopelessly out of touch. That is Link, from the Legend of Zelda. Link. Get it? No? Fine, I'll try something less obscure. Though, in my mind, Link was never obscure.

all wrapped in one neat little package

Still going to argue with me when I claim that al Sadr and company are not only being funded by Iranian mullahs and other terrorists, but have been joined by outside forces as well?
When the U.S. troops entered the abandoned factory shed Sunday, they found a hastily abandoned campsite full of jumbled clothing and bedrolls, scattered sneakers and gym bags, broken eggs and dirty cooking pots. But there were other, less innocent objects half-hidden in the gloom. Sacks full of chemical-coated rocks. Leather belts stuffed with explosive putty, and one smeared with dried blood. Boxes of batteries with wires taped to them. Instructions for making bombs. "This was a 16-man terrorist cell," pronounced a Marine captain, rifling through the mess. "See? All the bags and sneakers are brand new, all the same make. This took money and planning. Someone sponsored them."
Explosive putty. Chemical coated rocks. Sounds like a nice combo of Hamas and Iranians. Keep gathering, guys. It's good to see you all in one convenient place. And now they're kidnapping Russians. Smooth move. Really.

Oh, please. Like you've never acted like petulant bitch before. I just did it in public.

attention whores get all the attention

Excuse my bitterness. I'm just wondering - how does a relatively unkown person suddenly become the hottest blogger in the political blogger circle when it seems that her column is just a Gawker for the DC crowd? Not that there's anything wrong with Gawker - it's a favorite of mine - but it doesn't try to pass itself off as something it's not. Many months ago I received an email from a male blogger who told me that if I want people to recognize my writing and if I wanted to make a name for myself, I should concentrate on my serious writing and stop writing about topics such as boobs and sex. So now this chick comes along and she writes a couple of half-witty paragraphs every day, most of them dealing with John Kerry's sexual organ and anal sex, and she's the hottest thing on the internet. Men love her, women worship her and people quote her like she's the queen of all that is popular. Including the person who originally wrote me chastising me for my sex talk. Oh yea, I heard she's hot. Quite a few of the upper echelon male bloggers seem quite smitten with her. In fact, they are fawning all over her. And now she is considered to be on the A list of A listers, if there were such a thing. I don't get it. I just don't get it. Oh wait, I do. Guys will give you all the props you want as long as you are hot and write about sex. But if you aren't hot, or if you don't have a cute little image on your site depciting how adorably cute you are, then just give it up. You think if I start writing about how big John Kerry's dick is and how I am obsessed with anal sex my opinion will mean something to someone? Oh how cute. She's talking about butt fucking again. Let's link her and marvel at how astute and wonderful she is! This is why guys have an easier time "making it" or being taken serisously than women do. They just have to write. We have to be whores. I give up. Why bother spending hours doing research and writing, re-writing and editing when tiny little items about Bush's daughter are what's making the grade around blogs these days? You want the big boys to link you, girls? Start undressing. Or get a makeover.

The Gall of Rall and the Traitors of the Left

Of course I am worried about Iraq. It's a frightening situation and it's gotten to the point where I dread turning the news on. But, this is war. And it would be frightening no matter what. It's not the war being waged in Fallujah and Sadr City that scare me the most, though. It's the war being played out against America - by Americans. Each day brings more obvious proof that the anti-war crowd (AWC) wants us to fail. Now, silly me, I thought anti-war meant pro-peace. You know, flowers in the hair, make love not war, I'd like to teach the world to sing. That kind of stuff. I'd even settle for a little "bring the troops home now" if that phrase was spoken by the basic desire to keep our young men and women safe, instead of used as another way to make sure the U.S. fails in all attempts to make Iraq a safe, democratic place. The spin that these people put on everything that happens in Iraq or directly relating to Iraq is startling. For instance, take my favorite whipping boy, Ted Rall. Here's part of what he wrote today (in a column titled Cut and Run Now, which is another thing I'll get to): bq. Occupation viceroy Paul Bremer likes to rattle off statistics: 2,500 renovated schools, three million vaccinated children, 18,000 reconstruction projects underway, healthcare spending up 30 times, a 29 percent increase in the value of the Iraqi dinar. Hey, it's the least we can do--after all, Iraq wouldn't need new schools or hospitals if we hadn't bombed their old ones. But, in the end, infrastructure doesn't much matter. Really, Ted? I guess those run down schools that taught kids how to worship a tyrant and kill for him were good enough. And I guess those hospitals, with their lack of basic supplies, shortage of doctors, unsanitary conditions and little hidey holes for Saddam's torturers were good enough as well. There has never before been a war where the attacking force took such great care to not harm innocent people or the infrastructure of the city. For Rall to even consider putting that paragraph in his column is a frightening testament to just how far his head is under the sand. And even with his head buried like that, you would think he would still be able to add even a glimmer of truth to his lies. Well, what do you expect from a guy that thinks Saddam's forces are the bastion of truth while his own country has lied to him about every single thing that has gone on in Iraq? And that's another issue. The truth, or even perception of truth. No matter what the news prints, no matter what Bremer or Kimmitt say, no matter what the Iraqi bloggers or Iranian bloggers or American soldiers based in Iraq say, the gutless, ever present response from the AWC is this: They are lying. That is their response to everything that may shred their little tales of conspiracy or ruin whatever theories they have been concocting. They are lying. Condi lied. Bush lied. The FBI is lying. The soldiers are lying. Bremer is lying. Fox News and CNN are lying. If the only people you trust to deliver you the truth are the psuedo writers over at Indymedia and the tin foilers at DU, you have more problems than I can help you with, and I'm not even talking about your paranoid delusions. Let's get to another sad mark of the AWC. We already know they do not care about the Iraqi people. Witness their cries to pull the troops out now, leaving the Iraqis high and dry. Witness their blustering about WMDs and how the freedom of the Iraqi people isn't a good enough reason to be fighting the insurgents. But these things are no surprise to me nor, do I suspect, is this line of reasoning a surprise to you, either. However, I have to say, I am a bit - if naively - stunned to see how little the AWC care about the American and coalition soldiers. Here's a nice little tribute to our boys overseas (And there's plenty more where I found that). Now, before you start hammering away at your keyboard, preparing a comment about a) taking things out of context; b) Photoshopping or c) one sign out of thousands, let me give you these basic facts. The sign is not taken out of context. There it is, in full living color. No words cut off, no words added. Photoshopping? No. I've seen the placards on tv and other websites. Prefab signs, handed out by the hundreds, thanks to organizations like ANSWER and Not in Our Name. There's another one for you. Yep. The real war is the war against America. How very nice. Do you know why these Americans have declared war against their own country? Because we have the temerity to want to bring freedom to the rest of the world. Because we are so arrogant as to think that other countries deserve clean hospitals, good schools and the right to practice (or not practice) whatever religion you desire. And mostly because we think terrorists are bad. We think jihads are wrong. We think people who want to blow up buildings filled with innocent people should be fought against. But no, the AWC supports those people. They support the taking of American hostages, the killing of American soldiers and, by proxy, the jihad against America. Witness this guy for an example of that. We know who most of America's enemies are. Now there is a new group to add to that list: the anti-war crowd. Anyone who encourages the use of force against our soldiers is our enemy. How sad that our enemy then lives right among us, working in our schools, using our roads, reading in our libraries, getting healed in our hospitals, drinking our clean water, enjoying our freedoms and enjoying the right to support those who would like our freedoms crushed. Our country has reached a very sad point. I am old enough to remember Vietnam and remember the divide in the country. I saw the protests, I read the papers and watched tv and I never remember that divide being so unfixable. There was always a common road to walk on back then; we all loved America, we all loved Freedom. I doubt very much that is true right now. I asked my father about those days, thinking that perhaps I was too young at the time and I didn't see the complexities of the protests or my parents protected me from the real ugliness. Sadly, that's not the case. And everyone I spoke to this weekend - from Vietnam vets to Vietnam protests vets - said this same thing - this is much uglier. Much darker. Back to Ted Rall. bq. Read and understand: They hate us simply because we're there. Leave, and the hatred goes away. If you doubt that, visit Hanoi as a tourist. I no longer give Rall the benefit of the doubt and call him misguided or naive. Now, he's just an idiot. A blind, foolish idiot. The don't hate us just because we are there. They hated us before this. Way before this. And "they" are not just Iraqi insurgents. They are Iranians and Syrians and members of the UBL fan club. They are followers of Hamas and Arafat. They are worshipers of the culture of death, whose goal is one thing: to convert the world to their religion, thereby making everyone in the world subservient to them, to their ideals, to their power. Iraq is not Hanoi. Fallujah and Najaf are part of a bigger picture, part of a large group of jihadists whose only motivating force is a bastardized religion. That religion gives them the basis for the hatred and violence. That religion okays the murder of those who refuse to accept Allah as their God. This is not about us being in Iraq, Ted. It's about us being at all. We weren't in Iraq on 9/11, yet friends of al Sadr decided to attack us. What was the excuse then, Ted? And please, don't even bother to tell me that the two are not connected. Once al Sadr, al Qaeda and all the other gangbang terrorists decided that Americans must die, they became connected because the dots demanded it. Count, Ted. 1..2.3...4...you remember those little connect the dots books from your childhood, right? That's what we are doing here. bin Laden...as Sadr....Arafat.....Khomenei....not that hard. Just grab a pencil and start drawing lines. Soon enough, the big picture emerges and surprise, surprise, it looks just like burning towers and crashing airplanes. And there's a little message at the bottom of the picture that says we want to do this again. And we will if you back down from us and show any sign of weakness. bq. The Iraqi resistance wants us to retaliate; provoking us into lashing out is why they attack us in the first place. Each act of retaliation kills and injures innocents, proving to the opportunists that we're the monsters the patriots say we are. We're radicalizing the previously moderate segment of the population. Alright, Ted. We'll just pack up our bags and go home, then. The hell with retaliating. After all, they were only mercs, not civilians, as Rall puts it in the preceding paragraph. And hey.... maybe if those crazy insurgents didn't hoard their women and children into mosques and then start shooting at us from said mosques, those women and kids would still be alive. But don't let that stop you from viewing the American soldiers as murderers, Ted. Always an excuse. As for Rall's use of the word moderate - al Sadr and his followers could hardly be construed as moderate. Moderate is throwing up your hands and saying, wake me when it's over and then I'll decide whose side I am on. Moderate is not forming an army of suicide bombers, terrorists and animals to do your dirty work. So Ted wants us to cut and run. Of course he does. Why would Rall and the AWC care about what happens after we leave the good citizens of Iraq helpless and defenseless? If we pull out, the AWC wins. They can chant and sing and claim victory while the new schools and hospitals in Iraq get turned back into prisons and hellholes. The AWC will shrug their shoulders and move on to the next phase in their anti-American activities. After viewing the protests this weekend on tv, and seeing the photos and hearing the audio, I can say without hyperbole or exaggeration that many of the AWC are calling for the death of American soldiers. They have aligned themselves with terrorists who want to destroy America, not to mention undo everything that's been done in Iraq. I defy one of you AWC people who regularly stop by here to stomp on my words to defend the actions of your brethren. Defend these signs. Defend these people. Go ahead, tell me how American soldiers deserve to die so that the terrorists in Fallujah and beyond can live. I get sicker every day over this. I get more and more discouraged, more upset at the tone the AWC has taken. I will not this time apologize for calling them traitors. I will not back down from those words. When you support an insurgency against your country's soldiers ,when you declare that you are in bed in with the enemy, then you are a traitor. And you should be treated as such. I wish that every vet who has returned home from Iraq would see those signs and act upon them. I wish that the families of those still in Iraq would see those signs and act upon them. If it is ok for those people to wish death to those who defend their freedom, to wish harm upon those who make this country a place where you can shout your slogans from the highest rooftop without being hung in town square, then it's ok for me to wish that those people would be set upon by a crowd of enraged citizens. The AWC has declared war against their own country. Bring it on. If I should ever come within five feet of someone who is shouting for US soldiers to die, I will be shouting MISSION Accomplished as I drive the wooden stake from your sign through your eye socket. Hyperbolically speaking, of course.

Monday, Monday

I've taken the advice of a several dozen of you and I'm headed off to see my doctor right now. After doing some research, I took myself off the Wellbutrin as well as the Paxil and most of the withdrawal symptoms from the Paxil subsided. I still have my prescription so I can pop half of a 25mg if things start up again. However, I am going to tell my doc that I'd like to get off daily meds entirely and perhaps try Xanax, or something similar that I don't have to take every day, but just take as needed. One of the benefits of going off the Paxil has been the rapid loss of the weight I gained when I went on it. I feel better and lighter already, even though I have lost a bit of weight in places I would have rather kept it, if you get my drift. Such is the price we (and my husband) pay. Anyhow, I won't be back on the comp for a while, so don't forget to check out the Peeps Protesters below and, if I may say so myself, I wrote a few good posts yesterday that you might have missed because of the holiday. When I get back, I'll be bitchslapping Ted Rall, among others. Stick around. And thanks again to everyone who virtually held my hand over the past few days of medical malady.

April 11, 2004

Peeple are Peeple

[Apologies for the crappy photos. Now you know why I was talking about getting a new camera] The First Annual "Peeple are Peeple" March on Washington took place earlier today. Peeps from around the world showed solidarity in support of the oppression of marshmallow creatures everywhere. Purple and pink, chicks and bunnies, they all gathered as one to sing songs, carry banners and show the world that Peeps will not go down without a fight. The plight of the Peeps is well documented, but too many people just don't pay attention to it. Peepicide is a sad part of our history and these guys were out here today to let it be known that the killing and eating of Peeps has to stop. It was so heartwarming to see them unite in a common goal, and to also show their support for human issues, as oppression knows no boundaries. Today, we are all Peeps. # Outside White House # Hanging out by the Peep Bus - The Blue Bus is Calling Us! # Even al Jazeera was there~ # Peeps of different color and ethnic backgrounds with common causes # The rallying cry of the day # Not all white peeps are oppressors. Power to the White Peep Solidarity Movement # Radical Chick Cheerleaders hanging by the Peep bus # They put down our placards after a while, tired but satisfied. They sang a rousing chorus of Give Peeps a Chance and practiced some Karbala prayers. Very touching # A performance artist put on an act called "An Ode To Rachel Corrie" (So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; And Rachel Corrie, one calm summer night, protected a terrorist's home and was dead.) At that point, things got out of hand. When the Peeps started rampaging through Starbucks, demanding that they stop torturing marshmallows by putting them in hot chocolate, the police stepped in. Or drove in. The Kumbaya session ended badly. There are more photos but, unlike Al Jazeera, we would rather not show the gooey, sugary mess that ensued. Update: For more interesting Peep fun, see here. Update: Please do not give me all credit and/or blame for the Peeps. My sister is just as demented as I and she played a big part in putting the Peep show together.

one big happy group of terrorists (and I note to the lefties)

For those of you who still think this is a war of "insurgent" Iraqis v. American occupation, feast your eyes on this:
Iran's Revolutionary Guards and the Lebanese terror group Hezbollah are secretly providing outlawed Shiite cleric Muqtada al-Sadr with money, training and logistical support for his violent campaign against U.S. and coalition forces in Iraq, The Post has learned. U.S. and Israeli intelligence officials said last night there is evidence that Iran's Revolutionary Guards, the security services loyal to Iran's hard-line religious leader Ayatollah al Khameini, have funneled as much as $80 million into Shiite charities established by al-Sadr's influential family that have been diverted to fund his fanatic al-Mahdi militia. Intelligence sources also said operatives from the Lebanese Hezbollah, a Shiite terror group created by Iran, have trained 800 to 1,200 al-Mahdi fighters in guerrilla warfare and terrorist techniques at three camps in Iran near the Iraq border. Al-Sadr's group is also believed to have been recently provided with 800 satellite phones and new radio broadcasting equipment by diplomats at the Iranian Embassy in Baghdad, sources told The Post.
Webloggers have been saying this all along. Iranians have been saying it. But it's gone virtually ignored. Now that the mainstream media has picked it up, hopefully this story will grow legs, as they say, and people will smarten up. It's terrorists vs. us. It's us v. them. They all want us dead, and for most of them it has nothing to do with the invasion of Iraq. Iraq is just the golden key they were looking for to open the door to jihad on Americans and its allies. It's time to lay the smackdown on Iran. Iranians know this and they are ready for it:
Nobody else is saying it, so, once again, it is left to me to explain what really happened in Iraq yesterday. Iran declared war on the U.S. The signs have been there for a long time. I donít know if they have been intentionally ignored by U.S. forces in Iraq, or whether there is some master plan at the Defense Department to deal with this scenario. All I can tell you is we are now fighting a regional war. Our local opposition in Iraq is being trained, armed and directed with foreign support Ė by neighboring Iran.
We already know al Qaeda is in Iraq. We already know that Syrian terrorists groups are there. I've told you before that Iranians are shipping their might in and financing al Sadr. But none of the naysayers believed me. Spin this, lefties. Let's see how you deny this or justify it. This is not a war against Iraqis. It's not a war against the regular, peace-wanting citizens of Iraq. It is, as I have said again and again, a war against terrorists. The war on terror encompasses Iraq, not just Afghanistan. If you are one of those idiots who are showing solidarity with the insurgents, you are showing solidarity with those who would repeat 9/11 many times over. It's the 11th of the month. Two years and seven months ago today, full out war was declared on the U.S. Our enemies include so many different groups and factions that to name them all would take too much time. But they all have this in common: they are, in the name of their religion, combining forces to bring America and its allies down. They are, in the name of their religion and thier bastard leaders, trying to bring down more buildings, kill more Americans, take your family away. Imagine if Saddam was still around? The whole circle jerk of terrorist leaders would be complete. And there you are, showing your support for them, raising your banners and chanting your idiotic words that we are somehow at fault for terrorists being what they are. Don't be so stupid as to think that al Sadr wasn't a gutless, murderous bastard before we went into Fallujah. He wanted us dead long before that. Hell, he's living out his dream right now, one that has been festering for a long, long time. You know what's going to happen if we don't take these bastards out? Look here. Read these stories. That's what will happen. We will live that all over again. And some of us won't even live it. We'll be dead. That's what you are supporting, you traitorous fools. This is war. The insurgents and their backers are our enemies. Either put down your signs and get on the right side or head over to Iraq, strap on a suicide belt and show your real support for these goons. Oh, it's so much easier to just chant and sing, isn't it? You are a bunch of cowards. Traitors, cowards and supporters of mass murderers and tyrants. If that's the kind of people you support then get the fuck out of here and go live with them. And the hell with your moral equivelancy. Drop your crappy little fool's lies in the comments about how everything is our fault, how we made poor little al Sadr and all the Mullahs and Arafat and all those other henchmen hate us. I no longer consider your comments even worthy of my laughter. I'm going now to spend Easter Sunday with my family. If you people don't want us to fight terrorism, I better go enjoy as much time with my family as I can while we're all still free to do so. Assholes.

not a peep out of you

peeps.jpgI don't want to leave you on such a serious note, as I won't be posting again until this evening. I will be, along with my family, conducting experiments with Peeps, including an attempt at Peep jousting. We will have photographic evidence of all our findings. I think I will also try to recreate some great movie scenes using Peeps, or maybe the great battles of the Civil War. Maybe not. Upon Googling, I realize that everything that could possibly be done with Peeps has been done. Except eat them, which is something I refuse to engage in. Oh. Oh. Yessss.. Peep Protesters. This could be fun. Enjoy your Easter or Sunday or whatever you will be doing today. I'll be back tonight with some Moonbat Peepage. Peep show? Stay away from the Peep puns. They are bad for you.

Faith, Hope and the Phoenix Rising

Happy Easter to all those who celebrate this day.

While I may not practice Catholicism anymore, I still believe in many of the lessons of Easter; you don't have to be Catholic or Christian to recognize the values of faith and hope.

The followers of Jesus counted on one thing as they watched their saviour go through the stations of the cross: that they would not be let down by the God who they placed their faith in. Jesus would go through pain, he would suffer and he would die; that much was certain. But they knew that Jesus's father would not let him die in vain. Something good would come of this, because that is what their faith told them. They had hope that, through the death of Jesus, others would live. It would take great suffering and pain and sacrifice, but man would be rewarded in the end.

phoenix.jpgIt is a tough thing to have faith when all around you is despair. I've always believed that true, pure faith was an absolute virtue. I am in awe of those whose convictions are so deep that they never question the ending of the story they are living. Good will prevail. Evil will not. God will see to that, they think.

Whether or not you believe in God, most humans want to believe that good will indeed prevail. Whether we are sitting on a jury in a courtroom or reading a suspense novel or huddling in your house with your family while war wages around you, there is always that shimmer of hope.. This too will end, we think. We will get through this. The good guys will win, evil will be defeated and our full faith in God, in the system, in the world - will be rewarded.

I do have faith in humanity. I have to, because to lose faith in humanity would be to lose faith in the world and in life. I know in my heart that the good outweigh the bad, that those fighting for justice outweigh those whose idea of justice is a swift sword against the neck of those who oppose them. We give people chances, we try to understand their ways, we try to work things out to obtain a balance between their idea of good our and ours. Sometimes, the balance tips in the favor of the bad guys, and when we look at the scales to find out why, we see that our enemies are no longer alone; others have joined them. So we must fight not only our original foes, but the friends of those foes. It gets hard to keep your faith when the enemy becomes a gathering storm bearing down on you. But we must. We must never lose our faith, never lose our hope.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." Saying this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus.

Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary." She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rab-bo'ni!" (which means Teacher).

Jesus said to her, "Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God."

Mary Mag'dalene went and said to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her. John 20:1-18.

The faith that one must have in order to believe this with all their heart is admirable. We all really do want to believe in something like this; that from all the pain and suffering and death, something good will rise. We watch the ashes and wait for the Phoenix to emerge because we know it must. Without that faith and hope, humanity is nothing. We may as well turn ourselves over to our enemies, to the devil himself, if we do not believe that good prevails and from ashes come new life.

There are people who want you to resist the hope you may have. They will take your faith, wrap it in their hate and throw it back at you. They will twist your beliefs until everything you think you know is just one big knot. And they will try to make you a friend of your enemy.

These are the people who side with evil. They march up and down the streets proclaiming their solidarity with those who wish you harm. They say - but there are two sides to every story! But to them I say, only one side is motivated by goodness. The other is motivated by hate.

We want peace, we want a world that is full of faith and hope. We don't want our children to someday have to stare at the ashes of what was, waiting for something to rise from it. I just do not believe that my country means harm. To believe that would be to have lost my faith and while I may not have that unquestioning belief in a divine power, I do have that same kind of belief in humanity, in goodness and in all the people who want the world to be a decent, humane place.

My faith in humans runs very deep, but it is constantly being tested by those who use religion as a sword and those who justify the targeted, intentional deaths of innocents.

It is being tested by those will take every word, written or spoken, that opposes their view and disort those words until they can be jammed into the giant jigsaw puzzle they have created. And look at that puzzle now, now that it's practically complete. The jagged egdes, missing pieces and obviously wrong placement of others are of no mind to them. They will tell you it is supposed to look like that. I look at those people in despair; their hatred and animosity, misplaced as they may be, worry me.

They have faith and hope in the wrong things. They have faith that we will lose. They hope for for our failure. I pity those who so smugly carry around sounds supporting the enemy. Perhaps they can't be blamed; maybe they don't know who the enemy is. They are just confused. And perhaps someday they will learn the hard way just who they have supported, they they placed all their faith in the people who will just turn on them in the end, anyhow.

And maybe these people think that the insurgents will be grateful and perhaps save them some day when all the joined forces of insurgents, militants and the like come for us. But, no. Sadly, they will be turned towards death with us, their posturing and protesting and solidarity all for naught.

I have the utmost faith and hope that out of the ashes of the former Iraq will rise a new one; one with peace, hope and prosperity among its chief resources. I have faith that those who oppose this peace will be shut down and those who embrace it will be heard. I have faith that the right things will happen and that evil will be turned away at the gate, forced to go somewhere else, to move on like nomads in the night. And all that evil will eventually be forced out of every country and made to gather in one small space where it will be served with justice.

It's interesting to look at the differences in what each religion believes. For the would be martyrs, they believe when they die they will be greeted by a God who views their murdering ways as a triumph, and they will be rewarded for all the evil they spread throughout the world.

For others, they will be greeted by a God that forgives them for their sins while also forgiving the enemy for their sins as well.

And for others who don't believe in God, they will die with the knowledge of what they have done.

Either way you look at it, they all leave some kind of legacy. For those on the side of wanton murder, oppresion and tyranny, the legacy is one of fear and sadness. For those on the side of freedom, peace and hope, the legacy is one that will last forever; they leave some of themselves with the ashes and when we finally do see something rise up, they will be a part of it. There is a reason that most religions believe that good rises and evil travels downward to hell.

Whenever I tell people that I don't believe in one higher, diving being, they claim that I am faithless, that I don't believe in anything. Not so.

I believe in the human spirit. I have faith in the inherent goodness of people, that even though there are some people who just lack that ability to see beyond their own needs, the selfless, hopeful people of the world will always outweigh their opposites. I believe that everyone deserves the freedoms I have. I beleive that those who are free owe to those who are not to help them obtain the same freedoms. Not give them those freedoms, but help get them on the road to being free. I don't believe in turning loaves into fish if the people receiving the fish are not willing to learn how to perform the same task; but I do believe that sharing the fish in the first place will make them want to learn.

Perhaps one day we will all eat the same fish and drink the same wine and do it at the same table. Sure, we will all eat from different dishes and drink from different glasses, but we will all be able to agree that the meal is delicious.

My mother often looks at my lack of religion and asks herself where she went wrong. But she didn't go wrong at all. While iI may have strayed from her church and some of its teachings, there is a lesson my mother taught me that I never forgot. Interestingly enough, it is a lesson from Greek mythology.

When I was growing up, my mother was fascinated with mythology. She had this two volume book-of mythological figures and stories. one volume (the red one) was an encyclopedia, the other (blue) was filled with the myths based on the figures. I would often sneak the books out of my mom's room at night, take them to my room and read until I could not keep my eyes open. It was the story of the Phoenix that caught my attention time and time again. The concept of rebuilding, of rising from ashes was one that I would come to again and again in my life, the most significant time being on September 11, 2001. And now, watching the events unfold in Iraq and specifically in Fallujah, I think of the Phoenix again.

The willing bird; to burn is his desire.
That he may live again; he's proud in death,
And goes in haste to gain a better breath.
The spice heap fired with celestial rays
Doth burn the aged Phoenix, when straight stays
The Chariot of the amazed Moon; the pole
Resists the wheeling, swift Orbs, and the whole
Fabric of Nature at a stand remains.
Till the old bird anew, young begins again.

Early Christians used the symbol of the Phoenix to represent of immortality and resurrection.

On this Easter Sunday, I can't help but compare Jesus, the Phoenix and Iraq.

It only appears to be death. It only appears to be the end. From this, all things rise.

Today, besides being Easter Sunday, is also the third anniversary of the day my former brother in law died of massive heart failure at age 31. My children were upset that the anniversary, so solemn for them, lands on Easter this year, which is supposed to be a joyous day.

I look at my son and I see his uncle's sense of humor, his love of music, his great skills at third base. I look at my daughter and see her uncle's eyes, his thoughtfulness, his willingness to believe that everything in the world is good.

They both have the same laugh as their uncle. They both have that same crooked smile.

I tell them, out of ashes comes life. Out of your uncle, comes parts of you. Everything rises. Everything is reborn, renewed somehow. That is faith.

Happy Easter.

like glen danzig, mother f...

Last call for tonight. And it's a killer. Self - Trunk Full of Amps Parental Guidance suggested for several f-bombs, as the kids say. Lyrics really not necessary. Enjoy. By the way, Kery's site closed down the shop. Just when I had Strongbad supporting him.

April 10, 2004

Just When You Thought They Couldn't Get Any Lower

It's been a long time since photos of a protest actually made my jaw drop. Go read this (Bill's commentary is priceless - and the only thing that kept me from putting my fist throug the monitor). I'll have more on this tomorrow. Just, go look. Wow. Just...wow.

Saturday Night Sing A Long

You know how much I love cover songs. I've written about them many times and I have a vast collection of them. This, by far, is my favorite cover song ever. I actually own a copy of this song on an import 12" vinyl. The A side features Aztec Camera's Oblivious. The B side is Aztec Camera doing Van Halen's Jump. The best covers are the ones that take a song and make it all their own. Which Roddy and company did. Enjoy and let me know what you think. And don't forge to sing along! Aztec Camera - Jump Lyrics below, but I know you know them. Stick around, I uploaded a couple of songs tonight. I get up, and nothin' gets me down You got it tough, I've seen the toughest around And I know, baby, just how you feel You got to roll with the punches and get to what's real Ah, can't ya see me standin' here I got my back against the record machine I ain't the worst that you've seen Ah, can't ya see what I mean? Ah, might as well jump. Jump! Might as well jump Go ahead an' jump. Jump! Go ahead and jump Ow-oh! Hey, you! Who said that? Baby, how you been? You say you don't know, you won't know until you begin So can't ya see me standing here I got my back against the record machine I ain't the worst that you've seen Ah, can't ya see what I mean? Ah, might as well jump. Jump! Go ahead and jump Might as well jump. Jump! Go ahead and jump Jump!

Damning Evidence in Memo!!

Well, maybe evidence that the Blame Bush crusade just struck out swinging. August 6 memo There's the whole thing. Read it. Done? Good. Because now we are going to play a game called Spot the Actionable Information! The rules are this: Carefully read memo. Take a few minutes to think about it. Cite the actionable intelligence - meaning something specific that action could have been taken on to prevent 9/11. Come on, let's get started! You go first. I'll wait. And wait. And wait. And....wait.....

tastes like subservient chicken!

I made the chicken mosh!!

Us v. Them is not just a cliche

This link just came through in one of the breaking news alerts I get via email: 4/10 1:30pm: About 1000 people have gathered at UN Plaza for an emergency demonstration in opposition to US imperialism and solidarity with Iraqi insurgents, and are marching up Market Street. Solidarity with Iraqi insurgents. You have got to be kidding me. Speaking of protests, there was one in Times Square today with the motto: Iraq's Falluja is Palestine's Deir Yassin and Jenin Too bad Jenin is a complete fallacy, you idiots. But you just keep believing your little fantasies. In a way, you are right. Just as Fallujah and Jenin do have a common link: anti-American, anti-Jew terrorists. You guys really know how to pick them. Look at this one: Under a picture of the Japanese hostages in Iraq is this caption: How do we know these are not actually American special operatives terrorizing Japanese citizens? Perhaps they are Blackwater recruits? Maybe they're all actors? How do we know these are not actually American special operatives terrorizing Japanese citizens? Perhaps they are Blackwater recruits? Maybe they're all actors? The gist of that article is that America so wants us to hate our enemies that they will stage something like this. The black helicopters are circling. The moonbats are losing whatever teneous grip they had on reality. They are so hell bent on winning their war on Bush that they will grasp at any conspiracy their hateful minds can think up and pass it off as real. And then the hordes believe it. Don't be fooled. The far left really is our enemy if this is the tactic they choose to use in their war to stop the war.

Show Your Support for Kerry (sort of)

I don't know what the hell Kerry's web guys were thinking when they came up with this one, but they are giving anyone who wants one their own page on Kerry's site. Just fill in a few blanks, write your message and you, just like Kim Jong Il, can show how much you support Kerry.

Skeletor for Kerry!

via Kevin and Allah (check out the links in each comment section). These are pretty funny. And don't have a cow, my leftie friends. I though that whole thing with the Bush slogan generator was just as funny. I don't think these candidates understand the nature of the web. Which is, when given the opportunity to do so, we will almost always behave like ten year olds with a whoopie cushion.

by request

This is probably the third time I'm repeating this story, but it's definitely the one that people ask me about the most (I get a lot of emails saying, hey are the one who wrote the Star Wars pissing story? Uh...yea, kind of). A mouse asked - in the comments on the post below this one - to please repost it. Request granted. An orignal Raising Hell piece:

Don't Pee in the Millenium Falcon

do not pee in the millenium falcon Every family has those special sayings. The ones that only the people in their family know the meaning of, usually related to some inside joke or a story that is the family's version of an urban legend. Yes, we have them. We have several, actually, but this is my most often used saying and my favorite just for the looks I get from other people when I say it. When DJ turned four (you just knew this would have something to do with DJ, didn't you?) he was a Star Wars freak of the highest order. Ok, we all were. For his birthday that year, he got a whole batch of Star Wars toys, including this humungous replica of the Millenium Falcon, complete with flashing lights and sound effects. He enjoyed this present immensely, often playing with it for hours at a time. He would sometimes take his figures from other toy sets - knights and pirates and cowboys - and put them in the Millenium Falcon. He would then have Han Solo boss them around. It was fun to watch. So one day I go in his bedroom and I notice a strange odor. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, and I start looking around the room for moldy food or drink cups or small, dead animals. Finally, I pinpoint where the smell is coming from. The Millenium Falcon. I look into it, and see that a small flood has invaded its interior. Han Solo and Pocahantas are floating together in a stream of.....of....what's that? Piss?? Piss in the Millenium Falcon? I went ballistic. I screamed and yelled and acted sufficiently horrified, all the while fighting the urge to let out this maniacal laugh. The laughter that comes from witnessing the absurd. DJ stood there watching me, a small grin playing around the corners of his mouth. He wanted to smile. He wanted to laugh. Hell, he wanted to do a jiggy dance right there because his little antic served its purpose. He wanted a reaction. He got it. I didn't really know what else to say at the point. So I put my hand on my hip and pointed sternly at him. "Young man," I said. "You do not pee in the Millenium Falcon!" He nodded his head in agreement, still stifling that laugh. I made him take the offending toy outside, hose it down and the throw it in the garbage can. Which, of course, made him cry and realize the gravity of his action. A couple of days later, we are in Chucky Cheese. They have one of those big, winding tunnels that the kids can crawl through and torment each other. It's suspended about 8 feet above the rest of the play area and it's basically impossible to get to the kids when you want to leave. The kids know this. I read my kids the riot act before they go to play. Coming here is a privilege, I explain. When I say it's time to go, we go. So an hour later it's time to go and they look down at me from the opaque orange tube of kiddie hell and stick their tongues out at me. I go to the end of the tube and yell at them. They laugh. I say something about taking good things for granted. They laugh. I then yell "Do not pee in the Millenium Falcon!" Heads turn, the place goes quiet. Everyone is staring. Two seconds later, the kids are down the slide and in their coats. They knew what I meant. The phrase has found its place in the twisted lingo of our family. We use it at opportune moments, in our home and in public, and it always makes its point and gets the job done. Do not pee in the Millenium Falcon. Our family's golden rule.

to (raising) hell and back

Raising Hell is gone. We let the domain name on the site lapse (though, to deflect fault, someone registered the name for us with godaddy ages ago and I'm not even sure if that person still exists. So we had no way of knowing the domain was expiring). I'm not that upset about it and I don't think Mig is, either. We both have a lot of things on our plate and taking care of and posting at yet another site was more like a chore than fun adventure it started out to be. Plus, our kids are older now and they are more infuriating than funny, more mature than mirthful. There's only so much mileage you can get out of your kids' antics. We had a good run. Raising Hell was quite popular in it's heyday. We were a Yahoo! pick of the week, an MSNBC site of the day and mentioned in magazines and newspapers worldwide. It was fun to tell stories about kids that you wouldn't find in most parenting magazines or websites. While one magazine ran an article about finding the right daycare or did a QandA with the leading expert on post-birth traumatic syndrome in newborns, Raising Hell was addressing important issues like finding flowers in your kid's vomit and whether or not wearing your sister's dress will make your penis disappear. We had many fine authors join us at RH over the time it existed. I'd like to thank all of them for making RH the success it was. Please write me if you would like your archives. Stacy from Hosting Matters dug them up for me and we have them all in one place, saved for posterity and future embarassment of our children. Oh, I recommend not using my rhzine address, as it doesn't work. Sure, laugh and say that's obvious, but I tried mail Mig three times today before smacking myself in the head. I've got quite a collection of stories saved from RH. I think they would make a good, funny book about parenting. That is, if the people reading it had a really good sense of would laugh at an essay informing you that if babies could talk, your son would be saying, And the next time you change me in front of all those cute girls on the playground, I'm going to take a wizz in your face. Aside from juvenile humor, the book would also feature a series of serious essays as well. I'm going through all the RH archives and pulling out what's mine. Then I will go through the process of picking and choosing what to put in the in pile and what goes in the out pile. Then I'll find out how to stalk, bribe and blackmail book editors and publishing honchos until they relent and publish your book. If anyone would like to give me a hand - and an outside opinion - in determining what's publishable and what's not, just let me know. I'd be happy to compensate you somehow. I'm also going to include in all the RH posts some of the better posts I've written here about my kids. So, any agents out there? Publishers? Professional blackmailers? _________ Here's one of my favorite pieces from RH. It wasn't really something I wrote, as I was just transcribing an overhead conversation. I heard this exchange between a father and his five year old son while waiting for DJ to get out of school one day. It was about two or three days after 9/11, when we were all still in that state of suspended disbelief. cloud eaters (The boy was the first one out of the school door as the afternoon bell rang. He jumped into his father's arms, like a scene out of a commercial for life insurance) Dad: What did you do today? Boy: The same. Looked out the window. Dad: What did you see? Boy: The same. Giraffes. Dad: What were they doing? Boy: The same. Eating the clouds. Dad: (silence) Boy: That's why it was nice out today. I made them eat all the clouds. Dad: Good boy.
I love how the father indulged his son's whimsical imagination. Or maybe he just wanted to believe that we could make our clouds disappear just like that.

April 09, 2004

The Dude Abides

My sister wanted to do something fun for her 40th. Not a party, but just gathering a couple of friends and going out to do something crazy. We thought about laser tag or paint ball, but we're all too old to run around like that. We came up with midnight bowling. Which isn't really at midnight, you know. It's at 9:30. She thinks there's six of us going. There's about 26. We've got plenty of food and an open bar and a DJ. I think she'll be pleasantly surprised. Anyhow, I suck at bowling, which should come as no surprise. But with an open bar, I'm pretty sure I'll be entertaining as I bowl. I will take the excellent advice many of you gave me to deal with my stress: Drink tequila. As usual, I'll spend the evening shouting out Big Lebowski quotes. On that note - no song tonight, but I do have an appropriate quiz:
According to the "Which Big Lebowski character are you?" quiz:

Why don't you check it out? Or we cut of your Johnson!

comment of the day

On "Apple/Tree," the Command Post OpEd I wrote today about DJ's news site. bq. it looks like evrybody likes the site.Honk if Mtv sucks Posted by: daniel s. at April 9, 2004 07:38 PM How non sequitur of him. Made me laugh very hard.

so now two wrongs make a right?

This thing with Cramer is never going to end. It just gets nastier everyday. Someone just left a nice, long comment with this statement in it: bq. I think it's time you realize that the whole net knows about what you and LGF and a few others tried to pull with this kind of sick intimidation, thanks to sites like boing boing and usenet and some listservs that paint a pretty unflattering picture of your role and LGF's role in the warblog, jackboot wingnut brigades. Even some people on LGF itself think you and the attack dogs at LGF are idiots. It has nothing to do with Cramer. It has EVERYTHING to do with YOU and some complete cowards at LGF. Judging from some of the mail I received today, the guy isn't blustering. There are people going around smearing my name, making accusations about me and telling complete, utter, bullshit lies about me and passing them off as the truth. I have no idea what to do at this point. How many times can I defend myself for the same thing. I really wish I didn't delete the original post, because then people would be able to see for themselves that I never incited anyone to go over there and abuse her in any way. If by just linking her post and discussing it is what they consider inciting death threats, then they are sadly mistaken. It's no longer a case of whether I was right or wrong (and I was not wrong, but let's not get into that again). Hell, I don't even know what it's about anymore. I just know there are an awful lot of people spreading lies about me; lies that could probably undo the three years of work I put into making a name for myself in an effort to switch careers. I could really just throw up at this point. I'm at a complete loss. By the way, the title of this post is a reference to the fact that these people are using the same methods as the people who originally went after Cramer to go after me. There's a joke in there somewhere. A bad, sick joke. Added: This site is not LGF, nor does it resemble LGF in any way. Try to keep that in mind, ok? Update: One other thing for all you idiots claiming I followed Charles Johnson over to Cramer's blog like a sheep. Wrong answer. You know how I found Cramer? When she left a comment on this post on April 1st. Basically, she introduced herself to me on a post about the "mercenaries." So stick it.

Lost and Found/TRR

Found the sneaker. It was in a place that I know we looked at least ten times last night - in the closet, under the train set, behind the guitar. Our place is at this weird stage between packed and unpacked. We started off so nice, with boxes labeled correctly and packed nicely. The closer it gets to closing date on the new house, the more haphazard our packing gets. Which is why, I suppose, it became difficult to find that one sneaker. However, while digging through the boxes and whatnot, I did come across a box of things I bought at a yard sale in D.C. last year. Must have been at George Tenet's house. Look what I found: [click for bigger] Know what I'm saying? Check out Easterbrook today. I think this has to be the definitive (for me, at least) take on the whole damn thing:
AN ALTERNATIVE HISTORY: WASHINGTON, APRIL 9, 2004. A hush fell over the city as George W. Bush today became the first president of the United States ever to be removed from office by impeachment. Meeting late into the night, the Senate unanimously voted to convict Bush following a trial on his bill of impeachment from the House. Moments after being sworn in as the 44th president, Dick Cheney said that disgraced former national security adviser Condoleezza Rice would be turned over to the Hague for trial in the International Court of Justice as a war criminal. Cheney said Washington would "firmly resist" international demands that Bush be extradited for prosecution as well. On August 7, 2001, Bush had ordered the United States military to stage an all-out attack on alleged terrorist camps in Afghanistan. Thousands of U.S. special forces units parachuted into this neutral country, while air strikes targeted the Afghan government and its supporting military. Pentagon units seized abandoned Soviet air bases throughout Afghanistan, while establishing support bases in nearby nations such as Uzbekistan. Simultaneously, FBI agents throughout the United States staged raids in which dozens of men accused of terrorism were taken prisoner. Reaction was swift and furious. Florida Senator Bob Graham said Bush had "brought shame to the United States with his paranoid delusions about so-called terror networks." British Prime Minister Tony Blair accused the United States of "an inexcusable act of conquest in plain violation of international law." White House chief counterterrorism advisor Richard Clarke immediately resigned in protest of "a disgusting exercise in over-kill."
Read the rest. Twice.

Psychic Friend Needed

If any of you out there have that power to find things just by thinking about it, I need to know where DJ's other sneaker is. We've been looking since last night and I have about twenty minutes left to find it before his father picks him up - or he's going to go out in cleats. Use the force!

It Takes So Little to Make Me Smile

Thanks to Ed for the link to this. rick20james.jpg From the BWE blog, which got it from Catchdubs. Did anyone catch Wayne Brady on the Chappelle show the other night? Hilarious stuff. As always with Chappelle. Speaking of Catchdubs, they have the Man In Gray bunny posters (MIG is a great band featuring this blogger). When I got my MIG email yesterday, I immediately thought - Night of the Lepus meets Happy Bunny.' If you're in the NY area, catch a Man in Gray show.

One Big Happy

[Ed note: Please pardon what will probably multiple typos and spelling mistakes, maybe disjointed sentences and thoughts. The side effects of the Paxil withdrawal in that area seem to be much worse today - not to mention that I am having this weird aversion to light today and the brightness of the monitor is causing me to squint. Yes, I probably should just not blog today, but I did want to write this] Much has been said about blogging as the new medium; blogging as the great voice of the little people; blogging as the future of news gathering, fact checking and money making on the web. What's hardly said about blogs is this (for me, at least): The personal benefits have far outweighed any monetary/fleeting fame benefits. Case in point: last night I wrote about my stupidity in taking myself off of Paxil without consulting my doctor. Between comments and emails, I have, since last night, corresponded with over one hundred people about anxiety meds, anxiety disorders, withdrawal from meds, the benefits of different types of medications and just life in general. I was up until about 2am answering emails and responding to comments. I learned more last night than I could have ever learned from my doctor or pharmacist. There is something to be said for learning from experience and I have learned an awful lot from the experience of others. The best part was getting emails from people who I normally consider my advesaries - people with whom I argue (sometimes nastily) on a daily basis and bloggers who I assumed were my arch enemies. There is something very comforting about sharing your experience with others who know exactly what you are going through. When I try to explain the little electro-shocks in my head, they know what I mean. One person called them jellyfish stings and they didn't have to explain it farther. What I'm saying is this: blogging is more than the newest fad. It's more than editorializing or opining or debating. It's more than a new way to make some money or a great way to get your writing skills recognized. No matter how corny this sounds or how many people dismiss the thought, the blogging world, for myself and many others, is a real community. Think of all the times you have seen bloggers rallying around someone who needs help or prayers or money. It's like a community fund drive, but one that immediately stretches around the globe. Think of the power of something like that. Sure, that power can be used to drive corrupt politicians out of office or cheating writers out of newspaper jobs, but it can also be used for good and I think the blogging community (and by that I mean the entire community, not just one sub-genre of blogging) has shown just how much good it can do. So I'd just like to thank everyone who helped me get through a rough night. And I would like to now send you all over to do the same for Kelley, who has been diagnosed with MS. We're good people. Even if we sometimes can't stand each other.

You don't look so bad for someone who's forty....

Today is my sister Jo-Anne's birthday. This is what I wrote about her last year. Hey, her birthday is the anniversary of the fall of Baghdad. I think I'll send her flowers formed in the shape of Saddam's head. Seriously, I'd like you to all to wish my sister a happy birthday by doing one thing. See that ad over there on the right? The first one with the sleeping teddy bear? That's my sister's ad. If you could take the time to click on that ad to go to her adoption site and then send the URL to just one person - who knows? Maybe the right person will see it and my nephew can finally get the brother/sister that he is always asking for. Happy birthday, Jo. You're finally forty and you can't make fun of me anymore!

April 08, 2004

That's my boy

Don't forget to visit DJ's site. I'm really proud of him. He finally gave up that damn Neopets crap and he's doing something a bit more constructive with his time. I owe it all to his teacher, who encourages his students to know what's going on in the world around them. He spends twenty minutes every morning on current events. On Mondays, they watch a half hour mix of the Sunday news shows that the teacher TiVos together. The teacher is a Kerry supporter, but encourages the kids in the class - like DJ - who are Bush supporters to have healthy debates about the issues. I didn't give DJ the idea to make this site. He thought of it himself, made it himself, and stole some of the content from Command Post all by himself. Oh, ok. I told him he could. But the opinions are strictly his. Anyhow, I'm proud of him, and he added some updates before he went to bed tonight, so make him happy and keep his hit counter turning.

They Say You Think I'm Fine

This really explains why a Coldplay song made me cry yesterday. I don't feel so ashamed of myself now. I haven't updated the photo gallery this week, so tonight's moment of Zen comes in song. I was going to torture you all and offer up some Motley Crue, but this song just happened to come on the Winamp and I was like....yeah. They need to hear this. It needs to be shared. I truly believe that if Mike Patton hand't spent the two decades or so making wonderful music with Faith No More, Mr. Bungle, Fantomas, Loveage, et al, he would be a lounge singer. Who knows? He may end up a lounge singer yet. His voice was made for it. His demeanor demands it. His suave good looks and crooner's voice calls for it. I would love to walk into some dark Atlantic City Casino one night, grab a gin and tonic and listen to Mike Patton do every lounge song ever made. The song I have for you tonight is just one of those and, I think, the best example of the range and multiple styles of Patton's voice. When I listen to this tune I want to be a lounge singer myself. Or the girl sitting in the front row swooning. Many a Saturday afternoon has found me belting this one out into the broom-turned-microphone. You dont' have to be obsessed with all things Patton/FNM like myself to enjoy this one. Grab your broomsticks and your American Idol fantasies: Faith No More - This Guy's In Love With You (originally by Herp Alpert) You know, you guys could actually start telling me (if you do download the songs I offer) what you think of them. Lyrics below so you can sing along. You see this guy, this guy's in love with you Yes I'm in love who looks at you the way I do When you smile I can tell it know each other very well How can I show you I'm glad I got to know you 'cause I've heard some talk they say you think I'm fine This guy's in love and what I'd do to make you mine Tell me now is it so don't let me be the last to know My hands are shakin' don't let my heart keep breaking 'cause I need your love, I want your love Say you're in love and you'll be my guy, if not I'll just die Tell me now is it so don't let me be the last to know My hands are shakin' don't let my heart keep breaking 'cause I need your love, I want your love Say you're in love and you'll be my girl, if not I'll just die

once more, with feeling

I wasn't going to. But now I have to. For the record: I did not have a hissy fit about Cramer's fans emailing me or leaving comments. Cramer emailed ME and asked if I would ask Charles to tell his readers to back off. I emailed back to Cramer "Sure, and you tell your readers to do the same for me." In my mind, I thought that I was letting her know that her readers are just as fucked up as the ones who trolled her comments. No hissy fit invovled. I am still waiting for any of those holier-than-thou commenters on this morning's post to show me just one sentence where I ever incited people to go over and threaten Kathryn Cramer. I'm also waiting for Kathryn Cramer to expalin to her lovely band of fans that I did not throw any fit over anyone emailing me. I reallly need to clear the air here. You people stink to high heaven of moral righteousness. I did NOTHING wrong. NOTHING. Let's see if Cramer is big enough to write on her blog what she wrote me in email - they were not my readers who threatened her. Her problems started TWELVE HOURS before I made my original post. Do the math, you idiots.


I was going to respond to a rather long and tedious comment on this morning's post, and I was going to do it here, rather than in the comments, because it really needs responding to. However, something more important and serious has come up. Perhaps this something might explain my behavior over the past few days. Trust me, I have not been myself. I know this. My family knows it. And anyone who has read this blog for any amount of time knows it. More importantly, I have not liked being this way.

I did a very stupid thing.

I've been taking Paxil CR (38.5 mg) for almost two years. About six months ago, my doctor put me on Wellbutrin (XL - 300mg) for various reasons, in addition to the Paxil. He said he would start weaning me off the Paxil as soon as I got adjusted to the Wellbutrin.

Well, that took a while, because I had an allergic reaction to the Wellbutrin at first. Once that disappeared, I felt great. In fact, I felt better than I had in years. So we mad a joint decision that I would stay on both meds for a while.

Last week, I decided that I was being overmedicated. Part of this decision was a vain one; I had gained an incredible amount of weight since starting Paxil (a common side effect) and I was feeling physically horrible because of it. So, when it came time to get a refill of Paxil, I didn't.

That was six days ago.

I really thought that being on such a high dose of Wellbutrin would offset any effects of going off Paxil cold turkey, which I knew could be a Bad Thing.

It started slowly and really came to a head yesterday. I became agitated, high strung and anxious. I attributed all this to covering the war non-stop on Command Post and writing so often about that and terrorism in general on ASV. Job hazard, I guess.

Then I started getting belligerent. I was very short tempered with my kids and the rest of my family. I got in my father's face the other night in such a mean way that the rest of my family, gathered for my brother in laws Passover dinner, had their jaws hanging open. In 41 years, I have never disrespected my father like that.

It wasn't just anger and irritation. I was having wild mood swings. And I do mean wild. And severe. I was crying, I was screaming, I was totally unpredictable. I noted that this was probably the worst PMS I've ever experienced. Well, I had to blame it on something.

Then today. I started getting dizzy. But it was a weird kind of dizzy. It was as if someone was shooting off a taser gun inside my head. Electroshocks. They would throw me off balance sometimes.

Some time in the past four hours or so, the shock-like feelings became so severe that they were happening at the rate of at least 15 a minute. (There goes one right now - it's almost as if your head goes numb for a second).

Finally I accepted the fact that this had to have something to do with the lack of Paxil in my system. When in doubt, hit the internet.

Within seconds I discovered that the little shocks are referred to as zaps and they are a common symptom of Paxil withdrawal. Imagine that - not only was I not going crazy (or dying from a brain tumor as I had imagined at one point), but there was actually a name to this crazy feeling.

I started Googling Paxil withdrawal. Some of the symptoms:

nausea, dizziness, electric shock sensations sometimes known as "the zaps," headache, flu-like symptoms, balance problems, anxiety, sleep problems, gastro-intestinal problems, sweats, vivid dreaming, sensitivity to light and/or sound, etc.

Well. I've been nauseas all day. Dizzines, yes. Zaps. yes. Oh my god, the sensitivity to light! I was complaining not less than an hour ago that someone must have turned up the brightnes on the laptop screen because it was blinding me. The vivid dreaming, I always have. But this week's dreams have been more than bizarre (on that note, I dreamed about Sheila last night and she dreamed about me - and we were doing the same things - but that's another story).

Check out some of these common symptoms of Paxil withdrawal:

bq. Agitation, Irritability - Aggression, Severe Mood Swings - Extreme Irritability and Anger - Outbursts of Tears For No Apparent Reason

And there we go. My last few days in a nutshell.

That's not to say that I never had those emotions before going off the Paxil. God knows I've covered them all in the past month alone. The difference here is the extreme. There were times this week that I could not even stop myself from saying/doing/writing things I knew would just end up causing trouble; either for me or someone else. Poor DJ and Nat. They felt the brunt of this, I'm sure. And my husband, who kept saying all along that I should be taking my Paxil, but I completely ignored his pleas.

My moods and behaviors this week have indeed been extreme. I sincerely and without reservation apologize to any of my friends that I have slighted, hurt or caused distress to this week.

Oh, I meant most of what I wrote - that stuff was nothing new. I just am really sorry for the way in which I approached some subjects.

So what am I going to do? I am not going to call my doctor, I'll tell you that. He'll want me to go back on Paxil immediately. I don't want to. I can make it through these withdrawals now that I know what they are and I no longer thing I'm dying or going crazy. I think there is no scarier feeling than thinking you are really, honestly losing your mind.

So for the next few days, I'll get the zaps and maybe slur my speech a little and feel a little confused at times - that sounds like a typical night from my high school era anyhow Without the groovy hallucinations. I'll temper my emotions now that I know where they are coming from and I would be so frightened at my anger when it pops up. I'll just take a few Excedrin Migraine, put on the headphones, turn up some Portishead and mellow out.

In fact, I think I'll do that right now.

P.S. This is not an excuse for being an asshole. It's an excuse for being more of an asshole than usual.


(That would be Today's Required Reading). If you want to know what's going on in Iraq, go the source. bq. I canít say itís more normal than yesterday and itís not worse too, but are we staying home? NoÖÖAre we seeing any fights in streets? NoÖÖ... Also we meet people from Sadir city and Adhamiya city every day and they are attending their jobs, and not standing against coalition forcesÖÖ. Also I hade a phone call from a relative in Basrah and he said its calm and the damn media is lying as usual. We even sent an employee to Basrah to take care of a container coming to Om Qasir by seaÖÖÖÖ.And I would like to tell you about the made we have in office and she is from Sadir city. Her brother was arrested the day before yesterday morning for wearing a black shirt and was suspected to be Mahdy army member. He was released yesterday and said that the coalition forces treated them well and been told to stay home and not to resist the coalition and to tell their neighbors and relatives to do so. So it was kind of an announcement for the people how to act. And she still comes to work every day. bq. I can feel the people of Sadir city uncomfortable with what Muqtada saying or doing, but they cant announce it for religion matters, (he is SAEED you know, and thatís mean he is a grand sun of prophet Mohamed so any one talk bad on him get cursed. Read the rest.

The Jersey Girls Know ALL

From Cablenewser (which, by the way, is a great site): bq. .An Open Letter To Chris Matthews Mark writes an e-mail to Hardball@msnbc.com, and copies it to CableNewser: "My jaw dropped when I saw one of the carefully-chosen 9/11 widows say on your broadcast this afternoon that "we know" that John Ashcroft and Willie Brown were warned not to fly on 9/11. My jaw hit the floor when you just sat there and didn't challenge any of this...The Chris Matthews I used to watch daily and admired greatly would never have allowed this kind of bilge to go unchallenged. But your personal blind spot on this issue has destroyed your news judgment. Jaw dropping indeed. She knows? She knows? How does she know this, who is her source, and why isn't she being grilled by the 9/11 commission. I'd really like to see some other widows besides the four "Jersey Girls" being interviewed. They are everywhere. Where are the other widows, widowers, parents and children? Does anyone care to interview someone without an election agenda - and that goes both ways? How the hell can she go on tv and say she knows this and not have anyone question her about it? I'm not even saying it's a lie - I'm just saying if she's privilige to this information (I guess being a widow gets you all kinds of access to documents these days), she should stand up and say where she got her info from. It wouldn't matter anyhow. They would just have Veniste do the questioning. Because, you know. He's not partisan or anything.

What the hell?? Now with Updates!

From Allah: This is part of an actual caption on an AFP photo of a soldier's funeral: In the US military families can only watch and wait for that fateful knock on the door as the toll in Iraq goes up... Go look for yourself. Update: What the hell #2: Kevin Drum dredges up a 20 year old review of Condoleeza Rice's first book to "prove" that her testimony wouldn't be worthy. Note the review is by someone who couldn't even do enough research to figure out if Rice was a male or female. ([ast two links take you to blog entries abou this]

Coming soon from Ben Veniste

Mr. Rumsfeld, please explain why the Bush administration didn't build a time machine so they could go back and prevent the Holocaust. And don't fillibuster me?


Watching, transcribing and listening to that testimony has wiped me out. I would take a nap, except it's noon and those pesky kids want something to eat. Again. Plus, there's still lots of stuff going on in Iraq. Anyhow, just wanted to let you know that Command Post has an open discussion post on Condi's testimony. There, not here.

Today's Notice

The next person who uses the comments on one of my serious posts to whore their own blog posts on relatively unrelated subject will be banned from ever commenting on this site again. It's just fucking rude and it happens too often.

Like mother, like son

How cool is DJ? This is what he's been doing all morning (unbeknownst to me): News Daily

Note to Bob Kerrey

The Cole bombing occurred during the Clinton administration. Thank you, that is all. Oh, by the way: Bob Kerrey is an belligerent ass. Update: Yes, yes. Ben-Veniste is even a bigger ass. As in, deserving a hurtful smackdown.

Like WJM

Interesting day around here yesterday. I believe there are a few things I need to own up to. Perhaps I should issue some explanations, justifications, retractions and clarifications. Like many people, I'm a bit edgy these days. The situation in Iraq leaves me worried, angry and tense all at once. The whole area of politics and campaigning is infuriating at times. Personal attacks have me grinding my teeth at night. Add to the stress of life away from the computer; we are closing on a new house one week from today. If you've ever purchased a home, you know where I'm coming from on that front. I have about three weeks to pack our lives up, get out of this place, and move into the new place - which will need painting, new carpeting and a bunch of other things before we move in. And then there's the demon spawn that is my daughter. You try living with a 14 year old girl who is the walking embodiment of PMS and see if you're not screaming at some unsuspecting victim by evening. Those things aren't excuses - they are just a little background information on where my emotions are coming from. I think we all feel a little hot under the collar these days. Right, left or in between, there is enough breaking news circulating to make someone unhappy or angry at any given moment. I've been noticing it on blogs other than mine. Hell, I've been noticing it in editorials and OpEds in mainstream publications. You know that opening scene from the Mary Tyler Moore show where she flings her hat in the air and the cheesy little theme song is telling you that love is all around us? We are living the complete opposite of that. We're flinging rocks at each other and singing angst is all around us. And not that Kurt Cobain kind of angst that boils down to making your own misery; I mean the true sense of the word (A feeling of anxiety or apprehension often accompanied by depression.) But hey, no worries. We're gonna make it, after all. We've been through this before as a country, as planet. We'll get through it again. So what does this have to do with yesterday's rampage of words I subjected you to? The short answer is: Everything. People handle stress, anxiety and apprehension in different ways. Sure, there's the medication route, but the funny part is, I do take anxiety medication. Imagine if I didn't! I'd be on top of the nearest bell tower showering people with machine gun fire. I don't even know where the nearest bell tower is, though. I would probably have to settle for the local water tower, but I'm afraid of heights so I suppose I would just get in my car, drive about 90mph down the Loop Parkway while listening to Pantera and pull over on the side of the road at some point to throw rocks into the Atlantic Ocean. I don't do that anymore. Gas is expensive and so are speeding tickets. Now, I just sit in front of the computer and let go a string of expletives and engage in irresponsible hyperbole and type until my fingers ache and the email gets hateful. Many people, including my family, tell me to just turn off the television. Stop listening to the radio. Stop staring at all the different news sites from around the world. That used to be a solution. I often found myself doing that in the months after 9/11 (pre-Paxil), when I could not control my emotions or when the news just became to overbearing. I can't do that anymore. I have an obligation now. Command Post stopped being a great little hobby a long time ago. It's now a job, a second career. When your page is clicked on 26 million times in less than a year, that means people keep coming back for more. So we give them more. Which means I can never, ever stop looking at the news as long as I want Command Post to be a career and a business and not a hobby. Which I do. What this comes down to is this: What you get at ASV is a lot of pent up aggravation, frustration and emotions gone unchecked. I don't plan my posts. I don't write and re-write. I don't do a rough draft or an outline before I post. I just go. Just write. Let it fly. Maybe it's time to start taking more care in what I write and how I write it. There's anywhere between six and ten thousand of you looking at this site every day and reading my words. I cannot begin to tell you how that boggles my mind. After three years of this, I still don't get it. I still don't understand why so many people care what I have to say or respond to my words so dramatically. Before I start going where I did not mean to go with this, I want to get specific. Yesterday, I wrote about John Kerry and Ted Kennedy and their Vietnam references. I still stand by my conviction that Ted Kennedy...oh, hell. Here's the comment I left for Gary who, for some reason, has chosen to come after me like a cop on Rodney King. bq. Gary, I am not backing off my stand that saying "Iraq is Bush's Vietnam" is comparing Vietnam to Iraq. I think it's quite obvious.
Perhaps this isn't a matter of wrong or right, but one of perception. I perceived Teddy's words one way, you perceived them another, and the only one who knows what he meant is Teddy himself.
I also think it was a very calculated move on Kennedy's part. He didn't have to say Iraq is a quagmire just like Vietnam, because the media would take care of that for him. He knew damn well they would single out that one quote. He played the media (and blogs, including mine) like a violin. Ted got to say what he wanted to say without really saying it, which is just as good as really saying it.
If you follow. It's really late. Ok, so I pushed my hyperbole button a bit hard when I wrote this: bq. The deadly duo of Kerry and Kennedy are doing a great job of aiding and abetting giving "aid and comfort" to our enemies. They both, in recent days, blathered on and on about Iraq becoming another Vietnam. So, it wasn't all in recent days, and it wasn't really blathering. I admit that. No, they are not guilty of treason (though I never specifically said they were, even though a bunch of commenters acted as if I said that). See, that's a case of my emotions speaking. And that instance, above all else, has taught me a valuable lesson: When people actually read what you are writing, you should really be careful how you word things. Loose ranting and raving and the throwing around of accusations and big words meaning bad things is great when you have five readers and they are all your friends. I think that one truth that has been proven about weblogs over the past year or so is that the more readers you have, the more people expect you to conduct yourself in a professional manner. Ethics and all. And being that I'm a firm believer in having ethics, this is something I really need to take into consideration in the future. However (and this is a huge however), there are things that happened in the past week I will not apologize for and I will not act all contrite about. If I choose to disagree with someone - whether it be mildly or vehemenently - and that person I am disagreeing with is a either a public figure who has made his or her views known in a very public way, or a person with a website who has written their views down in a very public way - I certainly have a right to name the person I am disagreeing with and, if possible, link to their offending comments, without fear of being accused of inciting my readers to riot against this person. If I didn't write the words: Go forth and bash that woman's head in with a brick! I am not responsible if someone does just that. If Jimmy Breslin wrote a column about how much he despises George Bush and how he thinks George Bush is a liar and should be removed from the White House and one of Breslin's readers took it upon himself to make threats against Bush and perhaps follow through on those threats, one cannot hold Jimmy Breslin responsible. Stating your opinion on something is not the same as telling everyone to have the same opinion as you and to act on that opinion. So that takes care of that issue. The fact that people take my words seriously and read them every day is still a very new - and sometimes frightening - experience for me. I sometimes forget that I'm not just babbling away to a friend or neighbor or even to myself. I get lost in my words and carried away with my emotions and my self-edit mode does not always kick in because I'm still working the kinks out of that. It's the proverbial double-edged sword. Like any blogger, I want lots of readers. I want recognition. I want the big hits. You're a liar if you say you don't. On the other hand, I started this weblog so I would have somewhere to put my anger, frustration and anxiety into words. I started it so I would have somewhere to shout my opinions out, whether about politics or war or even comic books. And you would not believe the rude and nasty mail and comments I have received even about something as relatively inconsequential as turning the Preacher comic into a movie. So maybe I didn't end up issuing explanations, justifications, retractions and clarifications here. But it's just the usual morning routine of starting out with one sentence and ending up down here. No preparation except what I muttered under my breath in the shower this morning. The bottom line is this: You have to expect that I will fly off the handle sometimes. We all do. Just because I'm speaking to an audience now does not mean that I've learned to have a better grip on my emotions. Perhaps I won't get that grip until someone hands me a paycheck to write this stuff every day or every week and there's an editor hovering above me. Who needs self-edit mode when there's someone to redline all the profanity and hyperbole for you? Anyhow, it's 9:00 and I've got to set up the laptop in front of the tv so I can cover Condi's testimony for Command Post. I have no idea what I just wrote for the last half hour. I suppose I'll look back on it later today when I'm not so busy and feel embarassed about some parts of it. But I won't edit it (except for the typos and spelling errors that will certainly be pointed out to me in ten thousand emails [ed: there goes that hyperbole!]). It's pretty much what was on my mind and I'm happy to get it all out. Maybe I'll be a little less dramatic today, or at least less profane. Some day my kids are going to find this blog and they are going to make me put five thousand dollars in the curse jar. See you on the other side of Condi. [And I apologize if you don't get the title of this post. I forgot that I'm old compared to some of you spring chickens]


Yes, I'm bailing on you after just two songs. I owe you. The caffeine crash and the dawning realization that I need to be up in five hours have conspired to send me to bed. Thanks for putting up with all my foul-mouthed, angry crap today. I promise to behave tomorrow. [That's a note for my advertisers, not for any of you. Don't be so silly] and didn't anyone notice my clever little permalink icons? Or are you all just too good for video games?

April 07, 2004

Song 2: My Own Request

No one requested this because I'm pretty Tub Ring is still a kind of obscure band. Here's their website. They have a song called The Subsequent Rating Given to the Life and Times of Jack Valenti. How can you not be intrigued? The song is a medley of Tatu, J-Lo, Pink and some other songs. And you will love it. I promise. Tub Ring - The Medley And don't complain about it or I'll disguise a whole bunch of hair metal songs as your requests.

First Song: Foo

Hey, this works out well because it's one of my Five Songs. There was a request for favorite song involving Dave Grohl. Oh, so many to choose from as Dave Grohl = God Among Men. But I'm gonna go with my favorite Foo song rather than digging through every single thing Dave has ever been involved with. I have no idea what it is about this song that I love so much. Maybe because (for some reason I'm not sure of) it reminds me of being outside on a cool October night, under a starry sky. Or perhaps it's this line: Now that Iíve found my reward Iíd throw it away long before Iíd share a piece of mine with you. Foo Fighters - Hey, Johnny Park! Lyrics Below. (Come on, someone request some Toadies!) Come and Iíll take you under This beautiful bruiseís colours Ecerything fades in time, itís true. Wish that I had another Stabb at the undercover Was it a change in mind for you. Itís impossible I canít let it out Youíll never know Am I selling you out Sit and watch Youíre every mood Your eyes still remind me of Angels that hover above Eyes that can change from blind to blue Itís impossible I canít let it out Youíll never know Am I selliní you out Sit and watch Youíre every mood Now that Iíve found my reward Iíd throw it away long before Iíd share a piece of mine with you. Itís impossible I canít let it out Youíll never know Am I selliní you out Sit and watch Youíre every mood

let the music play

I've been incredibly mean and nasty today. Some of you deserved it and some of you just got in the way of the flinging feces. But most of you know how to deal with that by now. Just ignore and move on to the next blog. I'm feeling a little guilty towards my nicer readers, so I thought I'd upload some music to share with you. I've got about 7,000 songs from all stripes. Name your poison (ewww, not that Poison). First five people to suggest a band/genre whatever they are in the mood for get songs uploaded in their name. First five DECENT suggestions get uploaded. That means no Come on, Eileen. Dave. And that's about all the contriteness you get from me tonight. I'm going to stop cursing so much, but just because I'm afraid I'll be banned from viewing my own site at work. [I'm listening to Motely Crue's Home Sweet Home and enjoying it. What the hell is wrong with me today?] See below for some typical songs in my rotation: Jane did the ten song thing, and this is what I had for my ten when I wrote in her comments: Radiohead: Airbag Sublime: Garden Grove Vast: Last One Alive Tool: H D'Angelo: Brown Sugar Descendents: Everything Sucks Bloodhound Gang: Firewater Burn The Cure: Fascination Street Black Flag: No Deposit, No Return Combustible Edison: Punch Drunk Sarah McLachlan: Ice I think that's eleven. Oh well. I have this feeling I'm never going to bed tonight.


To everyone who wondered why I didn't do the following: a) respond to your comment immediately b) read the article you linked to/sent me/wrote c) post what you asked me to d) linked to an article you sent me e) argued back with you, answered an accusation or defend myself immediately following your comment let me share somethig with you. Contrary to popular belief, I do have a life. Sometimes, I actually turn my computer off! Maybe when you left a comment, I was busy oh..cooking dinner, taking my son to baseball practice, doing laundry, playing (ok, attempting to play) roller hockey with a bunch of eleven year olds, or maybe I was just sitting on my ass, twiddling my thumbs and whistling Dixie. Could be I was even answering someone else's email or reading someone else's article or writing something of my own. I could be taking a day long shit for all you know. Or maybe I just didn't give a fuck about anything you had to day. Pick your choice. Remember one thing: I don't get paid for this shit. Nothing. Nada. Not a cent. I am not your employee and you are not my boss. Perhaps I will put up one of those Paypal subscription things and, if you choose, you can pay me three bucks a month or so and then your comments and your emails and your command will get top fucking priority. Now, I am going to wash my mouth out with soap (Lifebuoy, of course) because you all made me curse like Roseanne on a bender today. Oh, and I don't really care if you don't like the three column layout. Go design your own freaking fucking blog.

Requisite American Idol Post

West Coaster and TiVo-ers, spoiler below. And one note before the spoilers: I would like to round up every single person involved in Fox's The Swan and beat the crap out of them, contestants included. There should be a law against this kind of tv. Seriously. YES! Thank FUCKING God! She was such a bitch.


If someone would like to write a guest post explaining the Tet Offensive, the media's role in the Vietnam war and maybe throw in some LBJ, Nixon I would be really grateful as I don't have the time nor the expertise or full knowledge needed (even though I just finished reading three HUGE LBJ/Vietnam books) to fairly answer the people who have emailed asking me for such an explanation, clarification, fill-in-the-blanks-for-me, kind of thing. Thank you in advance. Hopefully. Oh, if you just want to point to some online articles, that would be great as well. Perhaps I could make a little compendium of links to point people to, which would come in hand for Command Pos as well.

some run on thoughts about nothing while I work off some negativity

Well, I've had just about enough angst for one day. I mean, there's only so many times I can say the word fuck in a day without feeling like I should wash my own mouth out with soap. So let's change the subject until tomorrow, eh? What do you want? It's your call. I can continue with the list of my favorite songs (that still hasn't moved past number two thanks to ever-breaking news) or I could tell you about the cache of Sega Genesis games I found while packing up the house or I could tell you why the Hellblazer movie is going to be major suckage - ok, I did that already. Or we can do that ten random songs on your playlist thing. I don't want to talk baseball because I have this feeling that I'll spend more time cursing the Yankees than making fun of the Red Sox this year. And I won't bother with the Islander's playoff chances because...well, you can figure that one out. Note: Listening to Rammstein is not a good idea when you already feel like throwing someone through a wall. Did I ever tell you I saw Rammstein live? Twice? Holy shit can they rock the house. Who the hell cares if you don't understand a word they are saying? They've got fire and synchronized head banging and that bizarre keyboard player and the god damm best bass lines to hear live because they reverberate through your feet and right into your head and you think you can fucking fly. Yea, I might have had a few beers. Oh, so I was driving past the Nassau Coliseum on my way to work today and the giant marquee thing outside flashes the time and weather and as I'm sitting there for what seems like 18 hours waiting for the light to change I see that Metallica is coming to town (pass, thanks) and so is Prince (I'd go if I knew he would only play old stuff) and Incubus. They're headlining. The last time I saw Incubus at the Coliseum they were the first act in a long night of testosterone rock called umm..what the hell was that tour called? With Korn and Limp Bizkit and Ice Cube...I forget. Anyhow, say what you want about Korn but they put on a decent show. That pussy Fred Durst got a sore throat and LB didn't play but let me tell you, I saw that asshole skateboarding in the arena parking lot earlier in the day. So, Incubus. My god they used to be great. They put out two EPs and then S.C.I.E.N.C.E and they they just had their balls cut off or something. I saw them three times at Irving Plaza. Maybe one time was Roseland. The first time was amazing. My sister and I kicked mosh pit ass. The second time was good - they were playing with Fear Factory and I lost my hearing for a couple of days. The third time they were playing with Primus and not only did Incubus pussy out on us, with Brandon Boyd prancing around the stage like a model on crack - I mean, when he cut of those dreads he just lost it. Ya know? Anyhow, Buckethead came on before Primus and he just blew us all away. I don't care if he was wearing a KFC bucket on his head. He was awesome. Then Primus came on and - no offense to Primus fans in the audience, but you guys are a bunch of dick. Hey, I like Primus. But the fans were just...dicks. The attitude was, hey, we're a real cool club and you're not a part of it. Well, pardon me and suck my left tit, buddy. We left the club and walked around NYC for a while. By the way, Type O Negative is pretty good live, but Peter Steele has a real passive-aggressive relationship with himself. When we saw Type O, we were sitting up in the VIP section (VIP means Very Inconsequential Person with connections at these shows) and we sat at these reserved tables (my husband was working for Roadrunner records at the time) and Peter Steele's family was sitting next to us. I'm talking like...grandma type family. It was a bit bizarre to see them steering at Steele with familial admiration while he was singing Loving you was like fucking the dead. Talk about surreal. Went off on a tangent there, didn't I? Just working off the negative adrenaline.

The arrogance of the left

Counterpunch, the magazine for everything moonbat, offers this today:
The military cordon that has formed around Fallujah is the new face of the American invasion; the Jenin phase. The city is surrounded with razor wire, the curtains are drawn and the punishment has begun. All the reports indicate heavy fighting and, perhaps, as many as 200 Iraqis have been killed so far. (Many of them children) This is what is meant by Iraqi Liberation. Let's be clear about what is going on in. The world's only superpower has invaded a sovereign nation without cause and is waging war against a civilian population. At present, that war is being won by mere force of arms, absent any moral justification. At the same time, fighting has spread throughout the country in response to Muqtada al Sadr's open defiance of the occupation
Go ahead, read rest. I'll wait. So this Mike Whitney thinks that Iraq is the new Jenin. Too bad the whole Jenin incident was proven to be a fallacy. As for the children, not even Reuters or AP, those bastions of credibility, are reporting anything about the mass killings of Iraq children. Mr. Whitney also thinks that al-Sadr's organized war against the coalition troops is just defiance. Defiant is a two year old kicking his mother when he doesn't get his way. This is not defiance. So Whitney is sitting in his computer chair, clacking away and making all kinds of assumptions about what is going on in Iraq. Here's an idea - let's see what an Iraqi thinks! bq. Of course, Sadr has set up offices in almost every city, town, and village in the south. And I have mentioned earlier that they had assumed full control over my small village where I work in the Basrah governorate weeks ago, terrorizing IP officers, civil servants, and doctors but nobody was listening. I don't think I will be heading back there any soon now. What surprises me is the almost professional coordination of the uprisings in all of these areas. I'm assuming, of course, that the money and equipment supplied by our dear Mullahs in Iran is being put to use good enough, not to mention the hundreds of Pasderan and Iranian intelligence officers.. sorry I mean Iranian Shia pilgrims that have been pouring into Iraq for months now. But what does he know? I mean, he's only in the middle of it. Read the rest of Zeyad's post. Go back and read Whitney's. Compare and contrast. Notice espcially Zeyad's last words: No one knows where it is all heading. If this uprising is not crushed immediately and those militia not captured then there is no hope at all. If you even consider negotiations or appeasement, then we are all doomed. My money is on Zeyad's version.

Kerry, Kennedy and a slow bus to treason

The deadly duo of Kerry and Kennedy are doing a great job of aiding and abetting giving "aid and comfort" to our enemies. They both, in recent days, blathered on and on about Iraq becoming another Vietnam. Looks like someone was listening. bq. 'I call upon the American people to stand beside their brethren, the Iraqi people, who are suffering an injustice by your rulers and the occupying army, to help them in the transfer of power to honest Iraqis,'' al-Sadr said in a statement issued by his office in the southern city of Najaf. ''Otherwise, Iraq will be another Vietnam for America and the occupiers,'' the statement said. Emphasis mine. I should have put it in Drudge-sized font, too. I heard an interesting soundbite from Kerry on the radio today. He said that silly unilateral word, and then he went on to say that even though there is an international coalition in Iraq, it doesn't count because those countries didn't send enough troops or chip in enough money. How nice of Kerry to insult the troops of Poland, Italy, Britian, Australia, et al like that. Kerry and Kennedy are about one idiotic statement away from sleeping with al-Sadr. Their words are reckless and irresponsble. While Kerry is on his whirlwind Quagmire-palooza tour and Kennedy is acting as his PR guy, we've got soldiers in a fierce fight in Iraq and the war of Islam vs. the rest of the world is raging on. The man who would be president is spending his days parading around the country talking about ending the occupation of Iraq, bringing the troops home, quagmirequagmirequagmire. Every single thing he has said in the past 48 hours has been deeply negative. Yea, this is an election year. The guy is running for president, I know. So he can talk about the war, and talk about the situation, but he better be careful just how he words his phrases because the enemy is listening and they are applauding. Not only that, our soldiers are listening, too. I bet none of them are applauding. This war did not begin in Iraq. It did not even begin on 9/11, though that was a huge escalation in the battle. It started many years ago and it's just now that proverbial waking giant. 9/11 wasn't about America. The revenge of the Sunnis is not about America. It's about Islam. It's about Jews. It's about time you realized this. [insert comment about broken record here]


In a totally unrelated note, I just heard the song Plowed by Sponge. Hadn't heard it in a long time. Forgot how much I liked it, even though the singer sounds like Gavin Rossdale with sore throat. Speaking of Gavin, I hear he's playing Balthazarr in Constantine (see, Hellblazer). Umm.... Why? Not that I'm thrilled with Keneau "Unnhhhh" Reeves as Constantine but..Gavin Rossdale? Funny. They just followed up Sponge with Bush. Never did like that Gavin guy. Too pretty.

Do I Need to Put This in a Dick and Jane Primer?

Dear Mr. Simplebox.com. Since you want me to register on your site to leave you a comment, I will do it here instead. You say:
Those words were prompted by an episode in Kerbala. An aide to Sadr had been killed and when his body was carried away people were chanting, "Today we will free Kerbala from the Jews." There's no question that the chanting is hateful and speaks of a generalized rage that it may not be possible to dissipate peacefully. But I don't think you have to be Mother Teresa to work up enough empathy to see how those sentiments could arise in a population under occupation. The question that really bothers me, though, is this: How much distinction is there between those chanting crowds and our warbloggers? Notice the way that the distinction between Muslims and radical Muslims is sometimes acknowledged and sometimes elided in the quoted passage. If these warbloggers are right about the nature of the conflict, then what would victory look like? The question isn't just how many American lives are we willing to spend. We also have to ask how many people we're willing to kill. It looks to me like the warbloggers and the radical Muslims agree that if you kill everybody who isn't part of your clan then you've got it about right.
For those of you too slow to comprehend, let me repeat this for you in a simple, easy to understand style. Terrorists kill. Terrorists kill innocent people. Terrorists like the ones above would like everyone except those who are radical Muslims like themselves dead or under their power. Warbloggers (speaking for myself, really) do not want to kill everyone who isn't like them. I do not want you dead. I do not want Jews or Protestants or people who worship space aliens dead. I do not want to kill Africans or Brazilians or Red Sox fans. However, I would like to kill those who would, if given the chance, guide a jumbo jet into a skyscraper. I would like to kill those who think Jews should be wiped off the face of the eartht, women, children and Jewish pets included. I would like to kill those who stand behind little girls while shooting at people. I live among many people who aren't in "my clan." I love many of them. We practice different religions and have different ethnic backgrounds. And as long as they don't committ themselves to tying on a suicide belt and killing my family, I won't be looking to take them out. Got it? Personally, I don't see anything wrong with that.

Killing al Sadr isn't good enough: Today's required reading

Picked up at Free Arab Forum, an article on al-Sadr's attempt at ethnic cleansing in Iraq.
Attack on gypsy village goes unanswered By Anthony Shadid WASHINGTON POST QAWLIYA, Iraq - No one lives here anymore. A month ago, Qawliya's collection of perhaps 150 homes in southern Iraq contained a small red-light district, an isolated warren known for prostitution and gunrunning and as a haven from the law. Today, it is destroyed, the few sounds of life made by barking dogs and scavengers piling bricks from razed homes. Its residents -- hundreds of men, women and children, mostly members of Iraq's tiny Gypsy minority -- were driven out by a militia controlled by a militant Shiite Muslim cleric, residents and police say. Neighbors systematically looted it. Some accounts say the village was burned, though the militia denies it.
Read it and cry. And then give me a reason why we shouldn't grind that bastard into meat and feed him to pigs. I noticed a lot of leftie blogs yesterday writing about the ten year anniversary of the horrible genocide in Rwanda. The U.S. and the rest of the world turned their backs on those people. We should be ashamed. And that's what most of those lefty bloggers wrote about. So why shouldn't we care about ethnic cleansing in Iraq? How do you guys pick and choose who you care about? Do you have meetings and decide which oppressed countries get your sympathies? Don't even look at me like that. I care about all of them. Iraqis, Rwandans, Cubans, Russians, Iranians. I wish we could help them all. Maybe if some of the pussy nations that refuse to join us would lend a hand, we could help everyone.

World at War

Let's talk war for a moment. I just wrote this on Command Post: bq. Reports are confirming that al-Sadr's aide and leader of that cleric's office was indeed killed by Polish troops in Kerbala. The aide and fellow cleric has been identified as Muntadhir al-Mussawi. Sources say that his followers carried his body away from the scene while chanting "Today we will free Karbala from the Jews." This is NOT about getting the coalition troops out of Iraq. This is not about US occupation. It is about Muslimis v. Jews and all those who support Jews. This is a world war. Maybe we can't fight against an ideology, but we can fight against those who support an ideology that considers all Jews to enemies of the world. Iranians are filtering into Iraq to join the Islamists in their fight against "the Jews." Syrians were arrested today in Iraq. This war against the coalition soldiers is being funded and fought by an entire band of militant Islamists, not by Iraqis who are mad that we are in their country. This was inevitable, Iraq war or not. You are a fool if you think this is anything but radical Muslims vs. the rest of the world. Take your head out of your ass and look at the truth. This has been coming for ages. Not since Bush got into office. Not even in the Clinton years. It's been coming for a long, long time and only now are we going to see the culmination of too many years of rising up in the name of a bastardized religion. You may discuss. I'll be over at Command Post, posting articles about our soldiers and the soldiers of other nations fighting to protect you from ending up on the receiving end of a nail-filled bomb some day.

Piss Off

Don't even know where to begin today. My, it's going to be one opinionated day here at ASV. Let's start with something new: The Daily Piss Awards. As in, people/things that piss me off. # Ashcroft and the Justice Department. Aren't there better ways to be spending money and resources than trying to take my porn away to rid the country of porn - even soft-core Skinemax type porn? # Bill O'Reilly. Besides the fact that this column just sucked - content, writing, failed attempts at humor, embarassing attempts at sarcasm - it's just plain stupid. Note to O'Reilly: Not all talk radio is about partisan politics. Not all music stations play rap. Not all rap is about bitches and hos. Get out a little, Bill. Oh, and you might want to hone those writing skills. # John Kerry and Ted Kennedy. Nice time to start making ridiculous accusations about Bush, John. There's a whole lot of stuff going on in Iraq today and all Kerry wanted to talk about was his newest tin foil theory, that Bush planned the June 30th handover date specifically to help him out with the election. Screw that cap on tighter, John. As for Ted, the asshole is going around blustering about Vietnam and the Tet offensive. Hey, Ted - when al Jazeera plays that up in the Middle East those terrorists will cheer you like you've never been cheered before. Way to go, Teddy! Oh, and Kerry, nice quip about targets on the backs of our soldiers. I'm sure they will be real happy to see the support you gave them today. Note: Negative attacks at the president do not count as support for the troops. Just saying. # NPR (no offense, Dave). Now they are calling the homeless in California the placeless population. Sounds like a punchline to a really bad joke about political correctness. Unfortunately, they are for real. Nominations being accepted.

Semper Fi

Running late as usual, blogging later. I do want to take a moment to post this one thing, via Allah. This would be a really good time to donate to these guys. Skip the sub today. Forget the pack of cigarettes. And, like Allah said, you have better things to do with your cash than spend it on Scooby Doo 2. It's a good way to thank the men and women who are out there fighting for freedom. [Don't even think about leaving a nasty comment about our soldiers.]

April 06, 2004

Hi, My Name is Lenore and I'm a Little Dead Girl

deadgirl.gifHi. My name is Lenore. Some of you refer to me as the Little Dead Girl. My goal in life is to have you all experience my dark muffins.

I've graced this site on and off for three years now. Every time I get out, you pull me right back in. You make me feel guilty for leaving in the first place, like I abandoned you or something. Hey, I have my own life death to live, people. I don't work at your whim.

Well, here I am again. I hope all of you are happy now. Blah, blah Lenore, blah, blah dead girl. I wish you would find another pet icon to worship. What about Spooky? He's lots of fun and he makes noise when you squeeze him. Or Filler Bunny? He's a load of laughs if you just give a sharp instrument. Whatever.

I guess if I'm going to hang around I should tell you a few things about me.

I was created by Roman Dirge. This is Roman. He's kinda cute, ain't he? I have my own line of comic books, toys and other assorted things (the proprieter of this very site even has a Lenore lunchbox), which you can find at Slave Labor.

If you have nothing to do, you can go over here and play dress up with me.

Eww, not like that, you perv. Ugh. I should kill you for even thinking that.

So, anyhow. I'm back. Stop your bitching now.

corruption steals lives

A while ago I wrote about a murder that happened on Long Island when I was about 20 or so. Because of some of the comments on that post by people directly related to the case, and because of a correspondence with a person who wrote a piece on the case for New York magazine, I did a complete turnaround on my feelings about the guilt of the people who were convicted (convictions later overturned) of the crime. Also in the comments on that post, a couple of people left comments about another murder that took place on Long Island fourteen years ago. Martin Tankleff was accused of murdering his parents. He was convicted. Martin's lawyer is on CNN right now talking about the case. They are trying, once again, to get a new trial. I never, ever believed that Martin murdered his parents. His family doesn't believe it. To this day I still think Martin is innocent. Of course, it really doesn't matter what I think. I'm just someone who read about the story and watched it unfold. I think what was done to Martin Tankleff was also done to the boys who were convicted of the other murder; they were railroaded by the Suffolk County Police Department - one of the most corrupt PDs in the country. In fact, Glenn Reynolds wrote about them this week. I sent an email to Glenn detailing all the ways in which the SCPD is the living embodiement of a travesty of justice. No real point to this post. I know that some of Martin's friends read this site - I've exchanged a few emails with some of them. I just want to let them know I haven't forgotten. I hope Martin sees justice one day. And to the person involved in the first case I talked about - I hope the truth comes out for you, too some day.

Imperialist Logo

[Update] Turns out I didn't really like it. And I'm the only one who matters here. Right? And what the hell? You people who don't recognize the logo of the Imperial force sadden me. Quickie poll: New logo. Yes or no.


I haven't spent this much time updating Command Post since the first few weeks of the war. Yes, it's been a violent, deadly couple of days in Iraq. But let's look at this a few different ways. * Strategically, this could work to U.S. advantage. That's not say that I'm discounting the fact that many people have died since the weekend. What I mean is this; the crazed cleric did not have enough foresight to start this uprising after June 30th. Instead, he is waging an all out war against the occupying forces. Not a smart move on his part. * What we are seeing is a convergence of terrorist organizations. Like pigs to a trough, they are swarming into Iraq to take part in this "resistance," in the hopes of both destroying the United States (or at least killing a few dozen of its soldiers) and gaining some power in Iraq and the surrounding areas. We're seeing not only Shi'ites and Sunnis, but members of al-Qaeda, Hezbollah and other assorted terrorist groups represented in Iraq. In addition, the mad mullahs of Iran are sending their hired guns over by the busload. All these terrorists in one place, and a whole bunch of coalition forces there to greet them. It's certainly easier to kill a bunch of loons while they are in a flock, rather than flying around alone. * Meanwhile, other terrorists around the world are becoming more brazen as they assume that the U.S., Britian, etc., are just too busy fighting off Iraqi insurgents to be bothered with them. There have been terror arrests almost every day for the past week. Do you realize how many deadly incidents have been avoided? See, the U.S. and its friends can walk and chew gum at the same time. We can keep vigilant in the war on terror while fighting off the uprising in Iraq. Does anyone honestly think that al Sadr is going to get his way? Hell, I doubt he'll make it out alive. I have to laugh at those who are saying: see, they didn't want us to free them. They want us to just go home. Try taking the blinders off. The people fighting the forces now are not the regular citizens of Iraq, the ones who yearn for freedom and real schooling and life without fear. If you think they speak for all Iraqis then you have just insulted a million peaceful people. This is a fearful time in Iraq. Perhaps even more fearful than when the war first started because, unlike the U.S forces that first went into Baghdad, the cleric and his followers and all the other tag along terrorists will not try to differentiate between friends and ememies. They will kill anyone, including their own. Once these battles are done with and al Sadr is either in custody or in pieces, things will calm down. In fact, the fighting taking place now will make the handover in June even smoother. There will be many, many of Saddam's leftover handymen who will not be around to see it. The wind will have left the sails of the insurgents. We can hope this is the way it works out. Peace be with the people of Iraq. Soon.


There was a post here. You are not imagining things. I should be made to write on the blackboard 1,000 times: Do not try to post to two blogs at the same time. (I moved it where it belongs)

Don't Stop Believing: A Red Sox Flavored Contest

Sometimes you work hard to come up with things to write about and sometimes they are just handed to you on a red and blue platter. bocap.jpghe's doing it only one game into the season makes it even more enjoyable to view. What stopped me from writing the whole sordid story out was an email from Erik alerting me to a news story that would make for a cheap, mean-spirited contest. Far be it from me to let something like that go when it involves the Red Sox. bq. Boston Red Sox fans have given a name to their pain, choosing "Still, We Believe: The Boston Red Sox Movie" as the title of a documentary about their beloved, beleaguered baseball team. Nearly 8,000 people voted on a name for this movie and this is what they come up with? Still, We Believe. Is it just me or does that title make you think of a bunch of guys from Queens drowning their Mets sorrows in a case of Schlitz? I thought that whole believing in fantasy thing was the sole domain of Mets fans? Well, the fans spoke and they got their title. But I'm thinking that you guys could certainly come up with something better than that. I'll even mail all your suggestions to the Red Sox. Maybe they'll change their mind once they have something better put in front of them; a title that doesn't read like a saying engraved on the ass of a Precious Moment. Whether you're a Sox fan, a Yankee fan, or even if you don't give a crap about baseball, I'm sure you can think of a clever title to describe a movie about a baseball team's season that ended with them getting spanked by their hated rivals, in a so-close-yet-so-far manner. No cash prizes, but plenty of fame, fortune and hot chicks in leather awaiting the winner.

Do I Amuse You?

soxcomic.jpg Me v. Wonkette, immortalized in comic form.

Proof That Life Isn't Fair

Your mother was right. Life is NOT fair. Jennifer Lopez's mother won a $2.4 million jackpot while playing $1 slots in Atlantic City on Saturday night.

All Apologies

Hereís the thing about apologies: they very often arenít what they appear to be. Too often, they are excuses cloaked in the word sorry. The qualifier here is the word - or the feeling of the word - but. Iím sorry. But. ..That word is usually followed by some form of He did it first. She asked for it. He had it coming. You misconstrued what I said. I prefer an apology that says, Iím sorry. I was wrong. Please forgive me. Thereís nothing more thatís needed. If you want to go into a more lengthy story of why you are sorry, thereís nothing wrong with that. Just make sure itís clear from the beginning that you know you were wrong and thereís really no excuse for what you did. Let me bring up the tired story of Kos for a brief second here. His apology was the kind that reeks of blame and deflected fault. What often happens with something like that is the person who was attacked in the first place, or the person offended by the said comments, often ends up being the one asked to apologize. Kosís readers did that with great abandon. They wanted the right wingers to apologize for asking Kos to apologize. The original affront gets lost in a world of finger pointing and accusations. Yesterday, I was asked to apologize for linking to a story about a woman who wrote something incredibly inflammatory and irresponsible (coincidentally, about one of the same people Kos made his now infamous statement about). Like hell. Letís take this apart bit by bit, because I know her readers are coming here, I know that several people who made me out to be a monster are staring at this page waiting for the mea culpa to come up and I know that several people have written about the incident, some of them none to flattering towards me. First bit: When you write something on a public site that can be read by anyone with an internet connection, you open yourself up to all kinds of possibilities. It just stands to reason that people who do not agree with are going to come across your words. If someone links to your words and maybe takes you to task for the things you said, thatís just part and parcel of making your thoughts public. To denounce someone (and Iím not saying that Ms. Cramer denounced me for it; her ďfansĒ did) for linking to an blog post is profoundly stupid. The indignation I witnessed would have been amusing if it wasnít so frightening. How dare you link to something that is out there in the open! Can people really be so naive that they think this is a valid argument? Next bit. Check your facts before you demand an apology be issued. I linked the post in question yesterday morning. Another site had already linked it and wrote about it a full day before I did (unbeknownst to me). When people accused me of sending members of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy over to Ms. Cramerís site to act like thugs and threaten her family, they failed to do their homework. Cramer had already written about being spammed and threatened before I even wrote about her. In fact, most of the threats came before my post was public. The best part is, Ms. Cramer herself sent me an email telling me such facts. I suppose all one had to do was look at time stamps or, hell, just ask Kathryn Cramer and they would have known the goon squad did not come from my site. Next. I wonder if any of the people involved actually read my post. Nowhere did I say that people should go harass Cramer. Nowhere did I say I hated the woman and she should die. I simply stated that she was treading dangerous ground by making her research about a dead person public before she had the absolute proof that the nasty accusations she was making about this man were true. Which, by the way, they werenít. Does this mean I shouldnít write about other bloggers who post things I disagree with? I mean, what if someone actually clicks on the link I provide and goes over to leave a comment asking that person to explain their words and actions? Imagine that happening on the internet? On blogs, no less? Crazy! Next bit. Itís all well and good for you to stand up for Ms. Cramer and denounce those people that are immature enough to threaten her family. But, as with the Kos case, you are missing a huge point. Ms. Cramer made the original inflammatory statements. I donít see how anyone in their right mind (maybe I should say left mind) could defend a woman who was clearly crossing legal and moral boundaries with her post. You get all righteous and demand an apology from me for writing about her, but not one of you even came close to saying that Cramer might have crossed the line. Yes, she did take the post down. She never apologized for what she did, though. And when she posted about the IPs that were spamming her and what actions she wanted to take, she kept deleting comments that didnít exactly agree with her original article. And hereís the ironic part. Thereís always an ironic part to these stories, isnít there? Cramerís fans threw nasty words at me in her comments, and several posted about the whole debacle without ever checking facts so that their posts come off as accusatory, not to mention downright ugly. And hey, they linked me! So the very people who were miffed that I linked an article I disagreed with wrote posts linking me, even though they disagreed with me. Oh, and here come their goon squads to knock me down! Please. You reap what you sow. In this case, Cramer sowed a lot of bad seeds. Back to apologies. I took my post about Cramer down. I said I was sorry that people might have come from my site to hers and threatened her (I only realized later this really wasnít the case). I publicly - and vehemently - derided those who would react to Ms. Cramer, or anyone with whom they disagreed, with violence. And what to I get? I get word that my apology wasnít enough. Just like the morons who decided that Black Fiveís apology wasnít good enough (I have to dig up the blog post to which I am referring here). Hereís a word to all of you who would defend people who donít know right from wrong, libel from slander, facts from fiction; an apology is defined as a regretful acknowledgment of an offense or failure. I regretfully acknowledged that some of my readers may have acted in ways that I despise. By taking down the post about Cramer, I was trying to stop the flow of people going from my site to hers. Yet, this was seen as a retreat by some, small minded by others. You canít win for losing with these people. No matter what you do, what you say or how you say it, it will always be construed to be bad. Thatís just sad. And sorry. Update: Kathryn Cramer has posted an apology for her actions. Others could learn from the apology she issued. Second Update: I think I must have closed the page before I read the whole thing. That is not so much an apology as a cop out. See comments below.

at last, this day is over

I am Stacy's bitch. This is only about the 100th time she has come to my rescue when I messed the site up. This is it, guys. The colors may change but I'm sticking with this layout. Lenore the little dead girl is officially retired forever. Thanks to everyone who offered help and/or templates. And thanks again to Stacy, the goddess of everything, including Sekimori Design. No moment of Zen tonight, as I must get some sleep. Instead, go visit Sgt. Hook and wish him well. 48 hours until he hits the theater in Afghanistan. Stay safe, Sarge.

April 05, 2004

To All the Jews I've Loved Before


Passover greetings to all my Jewish friends. Dave at Israelly Cool has a beginner's guide to Passover and some humorous links. Roger Simon has a nice Passover post. So does Imshin and Aaron. Of course, Winds of Change has some links for you.

Now read this: bq. Shortly after sundown tonight, Dick Reed will join a small group of other American Jews in Baghdad for a Passover service at one of Saddam Hussein's former presidential palaces. Passover in Saddam's palace. I certainly hope someone tells him about it. Maybe shows him pictures. And I love this quote from Navy budget analyst Dick Reed: bq. "I expect to have the Iraqi people very much in my thoughts during my Passover meal and services," the Fairfax County resident wrote in an e-mail from Baghdad. "I'm not smart enough to expound on the direct analogies between the Jews being saved from slavery and the Iraqis being saved from servitude to a demon like Saddam. But the analogy just somehow feels right to me. Feels right to me, too. Passover is about freedom. I think it's something we can all think about, celebrate and wish for everyone. Chag Sameach.


You may notice that I took down a post that was here this morning. It seems some people who read the post on this site then clicked over to the site I linked and began spamming the woman's comments and making physical threats against her and her children, among other vile things. This is a note to those people: People say and do all kinds of things on the internet. Some of those things are stupid or reprehensible or irresponsible. Making a threat against someone's life is a crime. Yes, even on the internet. If you are one of those people who clicked over to the site in question and either spammed the woman's blog or made threats against her and her family, I would prefer that you not come back here ever again. You are idiots. Stupid fucking idiots. Not only are you setting yourself up for trouble, but you done it my name if you got there from here. The issue here is not whether or not I thought the woman in question was guilty of the things I accused her of; I still stand by my words. But thanks to some goons with keyboards, I've had to take those words down so as not to be guilty by association, something one of Ms. Cramer's commenters (fuck you, Scott) seems to think. Grow up, people. It may be "just the internet" to you, but the people behind the computers are real. That makes your actions criminal. Not to mention idiotic. To the commenters at Ms. Cramer's blog. Kiss my fucking ass. You people are insane. Update: Let me make it perfectly clear that this in no way means I still don't think that Ms. Cramer is an irresponsible wingnut. I'm pissed at all of you.

There's always room for Jello and/or Nomar!

I do believe that Ms. Wonkette has challenged me to a jello fight - with bikinis and tequila. I would love to, but I'm afraid that I'm all tied up for the next couple of months as baseball season has started and it's much more fun to fuck with Red Sox fans than to drunkenly slosh around in a vat of lime green jello with someone who is fascinated with John Kerry's penis. But, that's just me. It's now time to play everyone's favorite game of Stick Your Thumb in the Eye of Red Sox Fans. Now, if Bunsen challenged me to a jello fight, I'd have to accept. Especially if he was going to wear a bikini and maybe tug on my hair a bit. [Maybe I'm wrong about this but I think Wonkette might be in love with me]

Still Kosing Trouble: Wonkette Edition

WONKETTE IS BOYCOTTING ME! I'm so thrilled that she linked me while telling people that she is going to boycott me. I love Wonkette whether she boycotts me or not. See, last night I had a dream about her. We were in a theater and she was berating me for wearing open toe sandals when it was cold out. But I got the last laugh, because Henry Rollins admired my painted toenails! Hah! I am so beholden to the immortal words of Wonkette that I pretty much do whatever she says, like all good Wonkette-ites do, so now it looks as if I'll have to boycott my own site. STOP THE HATE! STOP POISONING THE MINDS OF GOOD BLOGGERS! BOYCOTT ASV! God damn, this 7-11 coffee is loaded. It's like crack.

He can really rock like a magikist*

How could I have forgotten? Today is the tenth anniversary of Kurt Cobain's suicide. Or if you are in the "Kurt was God and Courtney Killed Him" camp, the anniversary of his homicide. Either way, he's dead ten years. Unless, of course, he pulled an Elvis and he's actually working tables at a Denny's somewhere, his hair dyed black and his oversized sweaters traded in for a poly-cotton blend uniform. I've only written about Cobain a couple of times. Once, to tell the tale of how Kurt spoke to me in a dream and once to share the conversation I had with DJ in which this exchange took place: Mom? Yes? Do you think Kurt Cobain lived long enough to see his brains splatter everywhere? No idea, DJ. I bet he did. And I bet he thought, damn, I could have written a really great song called Brains On The Wall if I didn't JUST KILL MYSELF! I'M SUCH AN IDIOT!! [said in a screaming tone that sounded very much like Kurt's voice on Lithium] You really need to read the whole tihng for context. It was a completely educational experience, I assure you. However, the long trail of comments (the last batch, anyhow) on that post read like a slang dictionary for oxygen-deprived youth. When the subject of Kurt Cobain comes up, you can often hear me stating my opinion that the man was totally overrated. That is to say, he a) was not the savior of rock and roll and b) was not the greatest living musician/songrwiter to ever walk the face of the earth (now the greatest dead songwriter to do so). That doesn't mean I don't think the guy was talented. He wrote some damn fine songs and made some decent music. Conversely, he wrote some really stupid lyrics as well. Example: Album: Bleach Good Song: About a Girl.Not the most interesting lyrics, but it's got a nice tune and I like the way Kurt's voice sounded on this one: plaintive - stopping just short of being whiny. Mediocre song: Negative Creep. Excellent music, fun to sing while driving, stupid lyrics. But then we have a look at Nevemrind. There are no bad songs on this album. Even when the lyrics become muddled and Cobain's voice sounds shredded and dry, the songs are overwhelmingly brilliant. However - and this a huge however, a lot of that brilliance can be attributed not to Cobain, but to Dave Grohl (a god among men) and Krist Novoselic. And this is why I beleive Kurt Cobain was and still is overrated. Not enough credit is given to Novoselic and Grohl for what they did with the lyrics, or for how they made the music play off of Kurt's unusual vocal stylings. My point is this: It is a myth that Kurt Cobain singlehandedly changed the face of rock and roll, made alternative music mainstream or led a revolution that made grunge a household world. The fact is, it was Nirvana as a whole that did that, not just Cobain. Ten years ago today I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of a Rockbottom drugstore, ready to shift into drive and head home. The DJ on KRock was just announcing the death of Cobain. No one was really surprised, given what had happened in Italy the week before. Still, it was a stun-gun kind of feeling to hear the news. If Kurt Cobain was dead, so was Nirvana. Only later would I discover that it didn't matter at all if Nirvana was dead. It wasn't until Grohl formed the Foo Fighters that many people realized the truth. Not only were the Foo Fighters better than Nirvana, but it was really Grohl who changed the face of rock and roll in the early 90's. I have no idea how a post that was supposed to be about Kurt Cobain turned into an ode to Grohl, but it's kind of fitting, I suppose, given that the same thing happened - at least in my mind - with grunge. It started out being about Cobain, but in the end it wasn't. By the way, it's time to let go, kids. *Wesley Willis - Kurt Cobain

question and psa

I'm thinking of getting this Nikon Coolpix digital camera. Any of you own this model? Review? Also, for those of you seeing black text with a dark background on this site, I don't know why because the content background was changed to white days ago. No matter, I'll be switching to a three column format today, with a decidely lighter look. Yes, Lenore will remain here. Don't panic.

April 04, 2004

bow down

Grammar God!
You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!

How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla Finally, majoring in English pays off.

Sorry, Jim

I am a thief. Well, not really a thief, just really lazy. I stole the phrase "Kos and Effect" from Jim Treacher. I've been ordered to make retributions to Jim, so I have agreed to pay for Jim's trip to Kosymel and Kosta Rica and a full shopping spree at Kostco. While this is all going to be very kostly, I don't mind, kos I like to pay my debts in full.

Kos and Effect

(Yes, I stole that line from someone in my comments). Sure, I said I wasn't going to post about Kos anymore, but this is more about his sycophants than him. They are now leveling an attack at Glenn Reynolds, in repsonse to his response to Kos's vile statements. [I've put the rest of this post in the extended entry, because I know some of you are tired of hearing about it. There's some other related stuff down at the bottom of the post.] Steve Gilliard appears to be a man living on the fringe of sanity.
Glenn Reynolds, instapundit, thinks it's a good idea to harrass Kos's advertisers, or at least doesn't objects. Well, if he thinks it's a good idea for Kos, I think it's an excellent idea for him. As I have plenty of time, I think we could give him a dose of medicine he thinks is good. Now, he may have some weasel claim that HE didn't call for a boycott or harassment, but you know, when you lie down with dogs, you pick up fleas. He wants to pass on a bad idea, well, he'll get to live with the consequences if Kos is affected. We're not going to lie down, excuse his actions or find a way to live with it. You fuck with one of us, we'll come back and play the same game. I don't like or believe in boycotts, for anyone. But there is no day I'll stand by and watch someone who helped me get their ass kicked.
First of all, Glenn did not harass Kos's advertisers. He posted about the loss of advertising on Daily Kos, and linked to some people that were writing to Kos's advertisers. My question to Steve is this: Why go after Glenn? Why not go after the people he linked to, the people that were actually writing the emails and calling for the boycott against Kos's advertisers? Actually, I know the answer. It's because Glenn is visible. Steve's idea is to launch an attack against the guy who may not be responsible, but is high profile. That's just bad form, Steve. bq. So if Glenn, safely protected by tenure, wants to limit the free speech of someone else, even with a wink and a nod, well, we're gonna take a lesson from the White House. We're gonna blame HIM, not the guy he linked to. He's gonna be the one reading quotes back in his local paper and getting to deal with the hassles from nervous advertisers. What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. If he wants to play Bill O'Reilly, I'll sure play Al Franken and I won't be alone. Hello, Steve? Calling for people to email advertisers (which Glenn did not do, by the way) is hardly limiting someone's free speech. No one has called for Kos's site to be taken down. No one is trying to limit what he can say. No one has asked his hosting company to pull the plug on Daily Kos. So please explain to me just how Glenn and everyone else is stepping on Zuniga's right to free speech? Steve, you sound awfully angry about your friend Zuniga being taken to task for his words. That's ok, be angry. Go ahead. But don't take your anger out on the wrong people. Here's an idea: ask your friend Zuniga why he thought it was ok to gloat over the brutal deaths of these people. Ok, ok. Forget that, because you agree with him. But answer me this, Steve-o; how come none of Kos's little groupies are taking issue with the fact that he tried to hide his words, that he cheated with his redirecting of links, that he lied, lied, lied to not only those against him, but to his own readers? Do you really hero worship a liar, cheat an coward? Shame on you, Steve. Steve then writes a little letter to Glenn, including this paragraph: bq. This is a two-sided game. You want people to boycott Kos's advertisers, people can boycott yours. It may not be fair, but neither is life. I think it's best we all let each other speak freely and leave the boycotts and advertiser letters alone. But if you want to cripple his site, I'll personally write a letter to your advertisers, department heads, school newspaper and every other place I can find. Cripple his site? Are you that delusional, Steve? Have you been so blinded by this left disease of moral equivilancy that you can't even see what a fool you are making of yourself? Cripple? The guy gets about 300 comments on each of his posts. He will still, after all is said and done, have one of the highest ranked blogs in the poltical part of the blogosphere. And just what would you say to Glenn's employers? That he took a guy to task for reveling in the the fact that the mutilated bodies of American civilian employees in Iraq were dragged through the streets and burned? Would you tell his school paper that Glenn objected to a guy who rearranged his site in order to cover his ass? You'd be laughed at. Nobody is stopping Kos from speaking freely. Charles Johnson isn't showing up at his house with a muzzle. In this country, we are actually allowed to protest things people say that we don't agree with. And we are allowed to write these little words on a computer screen calling someone an ass. Steve concludes with: These guys want to mess with your right to express yourself. I think they deserve the same. Again, please show me where Glenn has tried to mess with Zuniga's right to express himself. For the record, this is what Glenn wrote: bq. I haven't led a campaign, or called for people to de-link him, or anything. I find de-linking campaigns dumb, even when they're not conducted by Jim Capozzolla. (But as Kevin Drum notes, when Democrats like John Kerry delink Kos, it's because they have to -- statements like his are vote killers.) I just noted Kos's comments. And what bothered me about it wasn't Kos. It was that Kos -- who I used to think of as a reasonable if partisan lefty -- seems to be infested with a degree of hatred that I previously associated with the Democratic Underground and other fringe sites. And then this: bq. UPDATE: Kos now appears to have taken down his site. That seems excessive to me. All he really needed to do was to issue a genuine, non-weasely apology. But then, he's trying to make it as a political consultant, and as Kevin Drum notes, comments like the one on "mercenaries" undercut his value there. However, I'd like to see him back and blogging, in a somewhat more reasonable mode. (It was just a few days ago that I was recommending him as a reasonable lefty to Hugh Hewitt, though it seems like longer now.) Yea, that certainly sounds like a guy who is stifling someone's free speech. Steve Gilliard, you are an ass. Personally, I don't think Kos is a "scumbag" or whatever some people are calling him. I just think he's misguided and err, wrong. But that's just me. [Gilliard link via RJ West] Oh, and look here at this DU thread, accusing the VRWC of hacking Kos's site or having it taken down. Sorry, he was just changing servers, which is why his site was down this morning. Don't expect we'll be seeing an apology or retraction from those DU folks, though. Another note: I don't really agree with the "this is what the left has become" threads. I saw many left bloggers, including Oliver Willis, CalPundit and Jack Cluth giving Kos a smackdown. It's more like "this is what Kos has become." Basically, he's become a moonbat. One more note: I do not - I repeat, do not - agree with nor condone what some of the more, shall we say, brain cell deprived rightwingers are saying, in calling for Kos to be beat up, burned, murdered, stalked, harrassed in person, etc. etc. That's just disgusting behavior. You should be ashamed of yourselves. That kind of crap makes you the right wing equivilant of those idiots on DU.

More Joogling, Sandler Style

See this post first. Apologies to Adam Sandler, though I don't think he would mind Imshin is jewish, Tepper is, too put them together what a fine blogging jew! You don't need the al Jazeera or Reuters biased crews cause you can read Jew School or Haaretz Daily News (both jewish!) Sekimori - NOT A Jew!, but geuss who is? The guy from Israeli Cool! ! We got Ann Lieberman and her Jewish blog sister, dear Leslie, and Rossi is a New York Jew, not too shabby. Some people think, Mr. Rantburg is, well he's not but guess who is - Belle de Jew is! So many Jews are in the bloggin biz Shabot 6000 isn't but I heard the Head Heeb is! I just know that someone would like to pick up the next verse or two, right? Just follow the Joogling instructions.

Joogling: Googlebombing as Activism

Psst....Jew. Pass it on. Background: Norm discovered, through a JP article, that the first result that comes up when you search the word "Jew" on Google is an anti-semitic site. bq. What is a Jew? Those hoping to find out from a Google search are in for an unpleasant surprise. The first of 1.75 million entries that appear when you type "Jew" into the search engine is an anti-Semitic site. This discovery by a New York real-estate developer, among others, has sparked a cyberspace showdown, and a bid to alter the situation by a small band of Internet experts. Norm makes an altruistic call for a Googlebomb. Rightfully so. Kind of interesting that a former Roman-Catholic is spending a Palm Sunday morning Googlebombing for Jews, eh? I think I figured out the best way to do this.
A Lonely Jew on Christmas" by Kyle Broslofski It's Hard to Be a Jew on Christmas My Friends Won't Let Me Join in Any Games I Can't Sing Christmas Songs or Decorate a Christmas Tree or Leave Water out for Rudolph Cuz There's Something Wrong with Me I'm a Jew a Lonely Jew on Christmas Hanukah Is Nice but Why Is it That Santa Passes over My House Every Year and Instead of Eating Ham I Eat Kosher Latkes Instead of Silent Night I'm Singing Hoo Hach Togaveesh and What the [Bleep] Is up with Lighting [Bleep]ing Candles , Someone Tell Me Please ? I'm a Jew , a Lonely Jew I'd Be Merry but I'm Hebrew on Christmas ..........
I'd like to give a shout out to Meryl, who's a Jew, Laurence the Jew, Allison, a lovely Jewish girl, that Jew blogger Aaron, and Allah, who is not a Jew, but likes to use the word a lot. Whether you are Jew, have a friend who is a Jew, married to a Jew, or just like Jews in general, go forth and Joogle! [via Emily, who was profiled by Norm this week]

April 03, 2004

Better Late Than Never

Yesterday, I promised to upload song number one on my list of Five Songs I Can't Live Without. You can read the reason for this song being a chosen one right here. Faith No More - Helpless mp3 Lyrics below The air is warm I hear the wind and the trees I know I'm there, but I'll never be The wind is soft tonight, the tide is low And I know the way (I never felt better now) Sometimes life, it moves too slow Slows to a crawl, and then the poetry is lost And without speed, hope becomes certainty And for once I'm certain (I never felt better now) A garden is it's own perfect world Where everything has a place Every leaf, every stone, every speck of dirt But where's my place? I even tried to get arrested today But everyone looked the other way I count the hours, and I count the days But for once I'm certain Don't want your help Don't need your help Don't want your help Don't need your help Helpless You found a way to make me say Help me please someone The water's clear I see that it's full of dimes For every wish, I wonder why Why all I want is something beautiful A place to rest (I never felt better now)

Riddle Me This, Zapatero

Got a riddle for you. Q: What do you get when you cross a terrorist attack and appeasement? A: You get Spain! Man, electing that Socialist appeaser sure looks like it might have been a bad idea. Hindisght is a bitch. Sources say that terrorists have been demanding that Spain pull out of both Afghanistan and Iraq or they'll start blowing shit up. Where's King Solomon when you need him?

Terror Alert: Yellow DoublePlusGood!

I don't know how to handle this: bq. Greg Hull, security chief for the American Public Transportation Association, said Friday the transit systems are at "code yellow-plus" following the bulletin about a possible terror plot from the FBI and the Homeland Security Department. Normally when the terror alert is raised, I break out a pair of Chucks of the appropriate color. !http://www.asmallvictory.net/archives/yellow.jpg! That's my yellow alert. So what do I do with a yellow plus alert? Do I find a pair of baby Chucks? Maybe Photoshop the yellow sneaker so it's a darker, almost orange yellow? Hmm..they make Chucks in something called New Gold. Well, if they go up to alert Yellow DoublePlusGood, I'm complaining Homeland Security.

Song 2 of 5: In Which Morrissey is Pathetically Lovelorn

Iím writing this as I sit in my car, watching my son practicing baseball in the raw, bitter cold of April(?)Ö. checks calendarÖYep, itís April. Well, no matter. Swinging a metal bat in cold, rainy weather and feeling the sting crack your hands Ė that builds character! Easy for me to say as I sit in the comfy confines of my heated car, typing/playing games on the laptop and listening to the radio. No WiFi connection around here, but I didnít expect much from a place thatís surrounded on both sides by senior citizen housing. Iíve been thinking about my five songs (Iíve only listed one so far and thatís here) and, by some synchronistic magic, one of my Five Songs I Canít Live Without is now on the radio. morrissey.jpgOk, so I was going to pick a Smiths song, I knew that much. It was a tossup between There is a Light, This Charming Man and How Soon is Now?, all of which have been listed by others. There is a Light is a hoot to sing (And if a ten ton truck, kills the both of us..) and This Charming Man has some very happy memories attached to it (and you can kind of dance to it), but itís the seminal Smiths song, How Soon is Now?, that gets my vote and goes on my list. Listen, weíve all been lonely. Weíve all been heartsick. Weíve all felt at one time as if we would live the rest of our lives in a deep, dark place that never sees the light of love. But no matter how many goth poems youíve written, no matter how many times you sighed and declared your life to be meaningless, no matter how many times unrequited love slapped you in the face, you could never, ever pull off patheticness quite like Morrissey. In the beginning notes of HSIN, weíre there with him. Son, heir, vulgar shyness. If youíve ever been a wallflower (and if you hero-worshipped Morrissey, I assume you have), you nodded along to those weirds. You shut your mouth, how can you say, I go about things the wrong way. I am human and I need to be loved, just like everyone else does. Oh, my sweet Morrissey. You have struck a chord with me. Your words have resonated in my heart as if you have looked into it and saw my despair. Face it; those of us who had some social defect Ė whether you were ugly or clumsy or gay or nerdy or goth or any of those things that made others treat you as less than human Ė well, Morrissey had us at shut your mouth. And so the song goes on, with that same dirge-like chord in the background, and youíre not really listening to the music, because you are wallowing in yours and Morrisseyís misery and waiting for his voice to kick in again. Come on, Morrissey, tell us more! Spill your guts! So he gets to this part: There's a club, if you'd like to go You could meet somebody who really loves you So you go, and you stand on your own And you leave on your own And you go home, and you cry And you want to die Thatís where the song stopped being about me and became solely about Morrisseyís pathetic soul. Oh, itís not the lyrics Ė anyone who tried and failed to seek out a relationship can relate Ė itís just the way he sings it. You can hear it in his voice, his inflection and his tone. I bet they had to do ten takes at least, because he was crying as they recorded. Iím not dissing him, mind you. I feel for the guy. My heart really aches for him and I have, more than once, turned off that song thinking that my life really isnít so bad and I am just not as pathetic as Morrissey. And he finished up with this: When you say it's gonna happen "now" Well, when exactly do you mean ? See I've already waited too long And all my hope is gone Yeah. I think I wrote exactly those words in high school, when that French-Canadian guy kept telling everyone he was gonna ask me out, but he never did. Aside from the heartfelt lyrics and Morrissey's brilliant singing, there are the long instrumental breaks between the verses that, if listened to on headphones while laying in the dark and contemplating your life, sound very haunting and sorrowful. There have been many cover versions of HSIN; Quicksand (excellent job) Snake River Conspiracy (sorry, it was not meant to be sung by a female), Everclear (not bad) and Love Spit Love which is my absolute favorite cover (and is the Charmed theme song and also the theme song to The Craft which I think Charmed may be loosely based on). I heard that Tatu also covers it bud I'd rather not hear that one, thank you. Anyhow, there ainít nothing like the real thing, baby. If you listen carefully Ė listen with your heart Ė HSIN is a song that will make you ache, make you want to track Morrissey down and give him a great big hug and tell him, donít worry, baby. Here, have some Xanax and a nice shot of tequila and comfort yourself with the fact people still like you. Perhaps not Johnny Marr, but people, nonetheless.

And yet, another quiz

We're off to baseball practice, and then the NYFD/NYPD hockey game.

I thought I'd leave you with something light, so here's another quiz. This time, it's movie quotes. They are divided into lightweight, tricky and hardcore. And I don't have the answers! Also, I am too lazy to number them, so just copy and paste the quote you are answering.

Please remember my admonition about Googling answers and baby Jesus crying.

[I promise to address all of your Five Songs later on in the day.]

Questions Below.


"This is not 'Nam, this is bowling. There are rules."

"It just be raining black people in New York"

"You will never fins a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious"

"As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster"

"I realize that when I met you at the turkey curry buffet, I was unforgivably rude, and wearing a reindeer jumper"

"My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"

"I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle."

"Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes?"

"You know, there's nothing more off-putting at a wedding than a priest with an enormous erection."

"We called him Mother Superior on account of the length of his habit."

"You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down."

"Cancel the kitchen scraps for lepers and orphans, no more merciful beheadingsÖ and call off Christmas!"

"Me so horny, me love you long time!"

"What's the sense in risking the eight of us to save one guy?"

"I do wish we could chat longer but I'm having an old friend for dinner."

"You can milk anything with nipples."

"Please put down your weapon. You have twenty seconds to comply."

"We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?"

"Kneel before Zod!"

"I guess you guys aren't ready for that yet. But your kids are gonna love it."

"A man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man."

"Let's show this prehistoric bitch how we do things downtown."

"Listen, I appreciate this whole seduction scene you got goingÖ but let me give you a tip. I'm a sure thing."

"All my life I've been waiting for someone and when I find herÖ she's a fish."

"Anti-wrinkle cream there may be, but anti-fat-bastard cream there is not."

"That's your problem! You don't want to be in love, you want to be in love in a movie."

"Frank, my lips are hot. Kiss my hot lips."

"I carried a watermelon."

"I've often speculated on why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Did you run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the romantic in me."

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

"Who is gonna mug two black fellas, holding pistols, sat in a car thatís worth less than your shirt."

"I'm hard to get, Steve. All you have to do is ask me."

"You're a disgrace to them gloves, your father and the traditions of this boxing hall!"

"He asked me to forcibly insert the lifeline exercise card into my anus!"

"I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper?"

"It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?"

"There is an intruder - male, caucasian, possibly armed, certainly weird - in my kitchen."

"It's a fire. All fires are bad."

"A day in the marine corps is like a day on a farm. Every meal's a banquet. Every paycheque a fortune. Every formation a parade. I love the corps!"

"How do you explain school to a higher intelligence?"

"There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum. It's breathtaking, I suggest you try it."

"You dumb assholes, I'm a mental patient, I'm supposed to act out!"

"Captain, being held by you isn't quite enough to get me excited."

"I'm Agent Johnson, this is Special Agent Johnson. No relation."

"Oswald was a fag."

"Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?"

"If I were the man I was five years ago I'd take a flame-thrower to this place."

"How would you like to have a sexual encounter so intense it could conceivably change your political views?"

"Weíll see you Monday, when we talk about Freud. Why he did enough cocaine to kill a small horse."

"They're only noodles, Michael."

"Well, we're not in the middle of nowhere, but we can see it from here."

"I'll chase him 'round the moons of Nibia and 'round the Antares Maelstrom and 'round perdition's flames before I give him up!"

"Don't threaten me with a dead fish!"

"You can't fight in here, this is the war room!"

"We're no longer called Sonic Death Monkey. We're on the verge of being called Kathleen Turner Overdrive, however this evening we are Barry Jive and the Uptown Five."

"All right, I'm comin' out. Any man I see out there, I'm gonna kill him. Any sumbitch takes a shot at me, I'm not only gonna kill him, I'm gonna kill his wife. All his friends. Burn his damn house down!"

"What, no small talk? No chit-chat? You know, that's the trouble with the world today. No one takes the time to do a really sinister interrogation anymore."

"Naked force has resolved more issues throughout history than any other factor. The contrary opinion, that violence never solves anything, is wishful thinking at its worst."

"I feel like such a heifer. I had two bowls of Special K, three pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, four peanut butter M&M's and, like, five pieces of licorice."

"A relationship, I think... is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we've got on our hands is a dead shark."


"Hell is only a word. The reality is much, much worse."

"How in the name of Zeus' butthole, did you get out of your cell?"

"If shit was worth something, poor people would be born with no assholes."

"You're trying the save the life of the man who ruined your career, and avenge the death of the guy that fucked your wife."

"My regime? The regime from which the radicals are trying to get free? Are we selling face cream or staging a coup?"

"You're going to the cemetery with your toothbrush. How Egyptian."

"He's in a gunfight right now. I'm gonna have to take a message."

"My name is Johnny WishÖ Wishbone. Johnny Wishbone and I am a psychic from the Island of St. Croix."

"Never joke about a woman's hair, clothes or menstrual cycle."

"What is your malfunction, you fat barrel of monkey spunk?"

"It's been one long goddamn hot miserable shit-ass fuckin' day every inch of the way."

"I'm much more than a walking penis, I'm a flying penis!"

"I'm gonna hit you so hard, your children will be born bruised!"

"This stuff will make you a God-damned sexual Tyrannosaurus, just like me!"

"Bless me Father, for I have just killed quite a few men."

"Case Western High! Ned Ryerson! I did the whistling belly-button trick at the high school talent show."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for Sega."

"Sports make you grunt and smell. Stay in school, use your brains. Be a thinker, not a stinker"

"Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children."

"Do you realise it's snowing in my room, Goddammit!"

"Your body's dying. Pay no attention."

"Good... Bad... I'm the guy with the gun"

"Never date a guy who knows more about your vagina than you do."

"Hello? We're your new neighbours. Don't be alarmed, we're negroes."

"You see, no one wants to hear it, but the terrible secret is that being young is sometimes less fun than being dead."

"I can't make out whether you're bloody bad-mannered or just half-witted."

"Now let's see if you can defend yourself, you sweat from a baboon's balls."

"I wouldn't live with you if the world were flooded with piss and you lived in a tree."

"We could head on down to the maternity ward. You know those chicks put out."

"There are three things in this world that you need. Respect for all kinds of life, a nice bowel movement on a regular basis, and a navy blazer."

Last Post on Kos

This is getting crazy. Here's the three things I take out of Kos's post: 1) He made a horrible, ugly, vile, unforgiveable statement. 2) He tried to backpedal about it. 3) He did try to deceive people about what he said. That said, I do not in any way, shape or form advocate writing to his advertisers and asking them to pull their spots from Daily Kos. I think we have all made ugly statements at one time or another when writing about war, terrorism, etc. I'm sure if anyone on the left wanted to, they could start a campaign for any of us who use ads to have our ads removed. It's very easy to point to something on any site that any adverstiser could find offensive. I am not excusing what Kos said, not by any means. It makes my blood boil. But I will not be party to a lynching party, so don't ask me again. I am just going to "turn the channel" on this one. I don't like the guy, I won't ever read his blog again. That's about the only advocacy you will get out of me and this is a closed subject that I will not approach again.

And on a lighter note..

I finally entered a Fark Photoshop contest (well, I entere one once before but it was a really lame attempt). Scroll down to the bottom. Look for ODB.

Reading for Comprehension, Lesson 2

[This post has been updated several times] Note to August: Perhaps Kos did not "erase" his Google cache; the thing that miffed me the most was the underhanded way in which he redirected the links so that those who linked to his original post were now linking to his lame explanation. If you read my post correctly - which you obviously didn't - you would realize that I was calling Kos out on his bullshit way of dealing with a backlash, and not so much the words that he wrote. Allow me to quote myself: bq. It's not just about his disgusting words anymore. That just proved Zuniga to be an ignorant bastard. It's his actions that followed the negative reactions to his words that proved Zuniga a coward, a weakling, a cheat and a liar. I dare any left out there to try and justify what Zuniga did. That is, to act as if those words never existed, rather than offer an apology or stand up and defend his feelings on Fallujah. The main theme of the post was: Zuniga is a coward with no balls. Got it? P.S. August, please note that the links in your post do not link to the original post Kos made, as you claim they do. Update: While I will admit that Kos did not delete the Google cache, as I stated in the original post, he still was incredibly dishonest in the way he manuevered his links. Also, it's not fair to judge people by the weblog commenters of people who comment on their weblog. Follow that? I do not condone the murder of Kos. That's just absurd. I don't think he's a traitor that needs to be hung. All I want is for him to admit that he engaged in some low class deception. I'll never ask for an apology for his original words, because you can't makes someone apologize for what they feel, no matter how ugly you think it is. I just want him to admit he's a coward and a cheat. One more thing, I still maintain that Kos's original statements were actually in a post of their own, and NOT the comments. You can tell if you go back and look at the links of everyone who linked to the story early on in the day - their links point to the explanation even though those bloggers actually wrote about Kos's words before the explanation went up. Therefore, Kos played a game of deception. And lost. Any Encyclopedia Brown fan could have figured this one out with a little legwork. [By the way, Kos's original statements were made at 10:08, as captured in many a blog post. The screenshot of the statement that was moved to the comments section says the post was made at 15:08. Explain, please?] This has become an issue of truth, now. It's no longer, for me at least, one about some harsh, ugly words Zuniga uttered about the deaths of civilians.

80's Lyrics: The Answers/PSA

Looks like we got them all. See what working together can accomplish? Here's the full set of answers for those who want to check their own work. So, anyone interested in another quiz? Any specific subject? *** If you are in San Diego or nearby, please check out the ad on my sidebar, which will lead you to Lt. Smash, who will tell you about a pro-troops/ anti-ANSWER rally today. That was mighty nice of Spirit of America to us their ad to promote the rally.

April 02, 2004

An Addition to the Blogger Family

Congrats to Mr. and Mrs. Wizbang and the twin Wizbangs (whom I've affectionately nicknamed Flotsam and Jetsam) on the birth of the newest Wizbang, Joseph Paul.

Beth's Question of the Night

It's a very interesting, discussion starting question: bq. So my question is - if you could set up a little theater in Iraq and could show just one movie you think would help inspire them to really embrace freedom and democracy - what would it be? Read the rest of her post for context and then go give her your answer. I'm closing the comments here, so you go answer over there.

The Missing Songs

Thanks to the dork for compiling a list of songs that we have not figured out yet. They are: 28 Can't get food for the king 52 You know I like my girls a little bit older 73 You're not naive, you must be strong 86 Everything you do is quite angelicate 89 My eyes dilate, my lips go green 100 Couldn't see how much I missed you (now I do) 104 Mine's an ordinary life, working when it's daylight and sleeping when it's night 111 So if you're feeling low, turn up your radio 130 I can't sleep at night, I toss and turn 136 I know a good thing must come to an end but it's hard to take losing a friend 143 We'll leave the TV and the radio behind 150 Across the north and south to Key Largo, love for sale 155 Well by the force of will my lungs are filled, and so I breathe 161 Wish I knew what you were looking for 167 Put the needle on the record 172 I can't get any rest, people say I'm obsessed 174 Do your fancy dances 176 Get up, get up, get up, get up, let's make love tonight 178 All the doors I closed on time will open up again 183 People don't you know, don't you know it's about time 186 Your heart's been achin' but you're too shy to say it 194 You've got to find a way, say what you want to say 201 Baby baby when I look at you, I get a warm feeling inside 210 I know when to pull you closer and I know when to let you loose

The Daily Coward

In case you missed the statement written by Markos Moulitsas Zuniga, aka Daily Kos, in which he described his feelings in regards to the massacre of U.S. civilian employees in Fallujah, here they are: bq. Let the people see what war is like. This isnít an Xbox game. There are real repercussions to Bushís folly. That said, I feel nothing over the death of merceneries. They arenít in Iraq because of orders, or because they are there trying to help the people make Iraq a better place. They are there to wage war for profit. Screw them. Normally, I would just link to those words so you could read them for yourself. Thing is, the words no longer exist. See, after Zuniga realized that he was getting a mighty wind of negativity about his post, he not only deleted it, he wrote some meek explanation of his words that only came off as belligerent and stomach churning as the first post, and then pulled a little bait-and-switch so that bloggers linking to the original post were now linking to the latter crapfest. But it just wasn't enough for Zuniga to take the words off of his site. In the latter post, he freferred to his original words this way: I wrote in some diary comments somewhere . How stupid and gullible does he think we are? Not just the people who linked to him, but all of his readers. Did he really think his readers would look at that statement and not - even for a fleeting second - think of Zuniga as a bullshit artist? Well let it be said, then. I'm calling Kos on his bullshit. Because not only did he whitewash everything he said, then delete it from his site, he actually went through the trouble of deleting the offending post from the Google cashe and the internet archive. If that's not the sign of a man covering his ass, I don't know what is. And if Zuniga is covering his ass, that means he knows he did something wrong. If he had any balls, and if he was a man that stood by his convictions, he would have left the words where they stood. Instead, he's a mangy mutt with his tail between his legs. This is the voice of the left? According to internet lore, Zuniga is the best and brightest of the left. He's their Most Important Blogger. And this is how he behaves? It's not just about his disgusting words anymore. That just proved Zuniga to be an ignorant bastard. It's his actions that followed the negative reactions to his words that proved Zuniga a coward, a weakling, a cheat and a liar. I dare any left out there to try and justify what Zuniga did. That is, to act as if those words never existed, rather than offer an apology or stand up and defend his feelings on Fallujah. [More on Zuniga here and here and Michael Friedman has a screenshot of the original post] And then there's this lovely poll that a DK guest blogger put up. Allah has more. Jay Reding has a great post. Update: Oliver is the only left blogger I've seen so far to speak out againt the Kos Krap.


Some people have asked for extra time with the song lyrics, so I won't put the answers up until tomorrow morning. I think between all of us, we should complete the quiz.

too many songs in my head

Updated: The new ones are marked with a bullet These are the lyrics I've guess right (I think) so far. I haven't looked at any of your answers yet. I'll add to it as I think of more. (original post here) This is much harder than it seems at first. I find myself singing almost a whole song before I can remember the title. And frankly, there are some songs on this list that I'd rather not be caught singing. My (thus far) answers below. The ones I've got so far are bolded, and I just did the song title, not the band name. 1. Suckin on chili dogs outside the Tastee-Freez Jack and Diane 2. I've done no harm, I keep to myself 3. There's a freeway runnin' through the yard Free Falling 4. I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all - Wanted, Dead or Alive 5. Your mom threw away your best porno mag - Fight for your Right to Party 6. Can you hear them? They talk about us, telling lies, well that's no surprise - Our Lips are Sealed 7. One that won't make me nervous, wonderin what to do - I Want a Ne Drug * 8. Are you more than hot for me, or am I a page in your history (book) -Straight Up 9. I can hear you comin, I know what you're after 10. And it's true we are immune when fact is fiction and TV reality - sunday bloody sunday *11. Don't go around breaking young girls' hearts - Billie Jean 12. I've got my back against the record machine - jump 13. You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand - mickey 14. A cloud appears above your head, a beam of light comes shining down on you - I ran 15. I'm lying in the rain, but I never wave bye-bye - modern love 16. He's the one that makes ya feel alright - dr feelgood 17. Are you happy, are you satisfied, how long can you stand heat - another one bites the dust *18. I think I thought you were someone else ( I know I know this one and it's killing me) AhA! It's REM - but what song? 19. I tried my imagination but I was disturbed 20. I tell you one and one makes three - Cult of Personality. 21. I'll be stretching my mouth to let those big words come right out- big time *22. And though she will mess up your life, you want her just the same - Maneater 23. You can listen as well as you hear *24. Think of the tender things that we were working on - donít you forget 25. They gave you life and in return you gave them hell - shout 26. Knew he must've been about seventeen - I love rock n roll 27. I am the maker of rules, dealing with fools - Eye in the Sky 28. Can't get food for the king 29. Step on a crack, break your momma's back - Whip It 30. Her hair reminds me of a warn safe place where as a child I'd lie - sweet child of mine 31. You're like the sun chasing all of the rain away *32. Everyone you meet, they're jamming in the streets - Dancin' in the Streets 33. I'm not internationally known, but I'm known to rock microphone - it takes two 34. Every time I see you falling, I get down on my knees and pray new order - Bizarre love Triangle 35. We'll take your car, yes we will, we'll take your car and drive it -centerfold 36. I said to my reflection "Let's get out of this place" - tempted 37. Easy ready willing overtime 38. The five years we have had have been such good times - donít you want me *39. Didn't know how lost I was until I found you- Like a Virgin 40. People of the world today are we looking for a better way of life 41. You in that dress my thoughts I confess verge on dirty (another one I know but can't place) 42. I'm about to lose control and I think I like it - im so excited 43. Write it on a pound note, pound note - goody 2 shoes 44. We are strong, no one can tell us we're wrong - love is a battlefield (Quick, what movie does that song remind you of?) 45.Out on the road today, I saw a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac - boys of summer 46. Caught up in the action I've been looking out for you 47. An invisible man sleeping in your bed - ghostbusters 48. But somewhere sometime when you're curious, I'll be back around 49. I know her love is true but it's so damn easy makin' love to you - run to you 50. Oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones - girls just wanna have fun 51. And incidents arose from circumstance - heat of the moment 52. You know I like my girls a little bit older 53. You always live your life never thinking of the future 54. Now we're sharing the same dreams, and our hearts can beat as one 55. She don't need a man's touch - that shiela e song 56. She'll get a hold on you, believe it - easy lover 57. You're everywhere, but you're so hard to find 58. You want your percentage, but I'm the fool paying the dues 59. No April rain, no flowers' bloom, no wedding Saturday within the month of June - I just called to say I love you??? 60. There's a skeleton chokin' on a crust of bread police - king of pain 61. With my body and soul I want you more than you'll ever know *62. I used to think maybe you loved me, now I know that it's true - walking on sunshine 63. Animals strike curious poses - when doves cry 64. Religion is a light in the fog 65. I don't know where I'm goin' but I sure know where I've been 66. If you want to find all the cops they're hanging out in the donut shop -walk like an egyptian 67. And there's a heart that's breaking down this long distance line tonight - missing you 68. I'm always workin', slavin', every day 69. Feel like I could run away, run away from this empty heart 70. Kick off your Sunday shoes - footloose 71. Daddy says she's too young, but she's old enough for me 72. He turned to me as if to say, "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you" 73. You're not naive, you must be strong 74. Darken the city night is a wire, steam in the subway earth is afire hungry wolf 75. She had the body of a venus, Lord imagine my surprise *76. I can't help recalling how it felt to kiss and hold you tight - Always Something There to Remind Me. *77. Will you meet him on the main line or will you catch him on the rebound? - gloria 78. Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game *79. You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day - Wake Me Up Before You Go 80. Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dream, red, gold and green - karma chameleon 81. They threw an American flag in our face 82. When I'm dancing close to her, I can smell the chemicals - she blinded me with science 83. She told me to come but I was already there - shook me all night long 84. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion - donít stop belieiving 85. It belongs to them, let's give it back - beds are burning 86. Everything you do is quite angelicate 87. Rolling like thunder under the covers that - guess that's why they call it the blues 88. I don't know what you expect staring into the TV set 89. My eyes dilate, my lips go green 90. I touch you once, I touch you twice - if you leave 91. To have you with me I would swim the seven seas 92. Crazy little woman in a one man show 93. Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet 94. Got in a little hometown jam, so they put a rifle in my hand - born in the usa 95. There is freedom within, there is freedom without - donít dream its over 96. But whatever road you choose, I'm right behind you win or lose 97. I need fifty dollars to make you holler 98. So let's sink another drink `cause it'll give me time to think - dancin with myself 99. Goddess on the mountain top - venus 100. Couldn't see how much I missed you (now I do) 101. They even bother my poor father `cause he's down with me 102. Where can I find a woman like that - jesses girl 103. Paul, I think I told you I'm a lover not a fighter 104. Mine's an ordinary life, working when it's daylight and sleeping when it's night *105. I had a whiskey on the rocks and change of a dollar for the jukebox -Rock this Town 106. Just don't ask me how I am 107. Your lights are on but you're not home - addicted to love 108. Take your passion and make it happen- flashdance 109. That little faggot he's a millionaire - money for nothing 110. I was wrong, now I find just one thing makes me forget 111. So if you're feeling low, turn up your radio 112. It's no better to be safe than sorry 113. Darlin' in my wildest dreams I never thought I'd go 114. The road is long, there are mountains in your way 115. The Salvation Army band played and the children drank lemonade - life in a northern town 116. The more you live, the faster you will die 117. I've got a secret I've been hiding under my skin 118. I love you though you hurt me so 119. Wouldn't wanna be swept away, far away from the one that I love 120. The sheik he drove his Cadillac - rock the casbah 121. She showed me the beach, gave me a peach, and pulled out the suntan lotion 122. Two silhouettes saying goodnight by the garden gate 123. Have some more chicken, have some more pie - eat it 124. I asked the doctor to take your picture so I could look at you from inside as well - turning japanese *125. Well it's all right riding around in the breeze - End of the line 126. I'm just going to keep on counting until you are mine 127. Every time you call my name, I heat up like a burnin' flame 128. This is it boys, this is war 129. I can't understand what makes a man hate another man - people are people 130. I can't sleep at night, I toss and turn 131. I know you really want to tell me goodbye 132. Food is served and you're stone cold munchin' 133. Don't let go while I'm hangin' on, `cause I been hangin' on so long 134. We can dance, everybody look at your hands - safety dance 135. know a place where we can dance the whole night away underneath electric stars 136. I know a good thing must come to an end but it's hard to take losing a friend 137. Well Superman looked up at me, he said "You rock so naturally" 138. You can say anything you like, but you can't touch the merchandise 139. You want a piece of my heart, you better start from the start -working for the weekend 140. But when the wrong word goes in the right ear, I know you been lyin' to me - one thing leads to another 141. I follow where my mind goes - love my way 142. What's your definition of dirty, baby 143. We'll leave the TV and the radio behind 144. All you sittin' in high places, the rain's gonna fall on you 145. I turn the switch and check the number, I leave it on when in bed I slumber 146. So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls 147. So you better go back to your bars, your temples, your massage parlors 148. Did you really think about it before you made the rules 149. So you think my singing's out of time, well it makes me money 150. Across the north and south to Key Largo, love for sale 151. Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama - kokomo (worst song every) 152. I swear that I could see forever in your eyes 153. Nothing had the chance to be good, nothing ever could 154. Take my license and all that jive 155. Well by the force of will my lungs are filled, and so I breathe 156. Dreams stay with you like a lover's voice fires the mountainside - big country 157. No huggin' no kissin' til I get a wedding ring - keep your hands to yourself (not sure if that's the name) 158. I don't worry `cause my wallet's fat 159. Sister's sighing in her sleep - our house 160. Better make it fast or else I'm gonna get pissed 161. Wish I knew what you were looking for 162. What's your price for flight - sister christian!!!! 163. I know a guy who's tough but sweet - i want candy 164. And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone 165. Why do I find it so hard to write the next line, oh I want the truth to be said - this much is true 166. Every time he pulls me near, I just wanna cheer - lets hear it for the boy 167. Put the needle on the record 168. Whoa no, I've got to keep on moving 169. Once upon a time there was light in my life, but now there's only love in the dark 170. I stain my sheets, I don't even know why - that violent femmes song that I can't think of the name of right now 171. There were incidents and accidents, there were hints and allegations - call me al 172. I can't get any rest, people say I'm obsessed 173. She dances like she's never danced before - maniac 174. Do your fancy dances 175. Your moves are so raw, I've got to let you know you're one of my kind - that inxs song 176. Get up, get up, get up, get up, let's make love tonight 177. But when I win your heart, I'm gonna paint it cherry red 178. All the doors I closed on time will open up again 179. Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate 180. You can feel the punishment but you can't commit the sin 181. I'm not the one to tell you what's wrong or what's right 182. He wants me, but only part of the time - voices carry 183. People don't you know, don't you know it's about time 184. You were the first, you'll be the last 185. You think you're mad, too unstable, kicking in chairs and knocking down tables - west end girls 186. Your heart's been achin' but you're too shy to say it 187. The only one who'll hang out with me is my dear Old Granddad 188. Things are going great, and they're only getting better - future's so bright 189. So you better treat her right - easy lover 190. It's time to bring this ship in to the shore and throw away the oars forever 191. We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let's start giving - we are the world 192. We could dance and party all night, and drink some cherry wine 193. Dressed up like a million-dollar trooper - puttin on the ritz 194. You've got to find a way, say what you want to say 195. Sail away with me to another world 196. I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on - lean on me (who did this in the 80's?? 197. Welcome to the big time, you're bound to be a star 198. Yo no soy marinero, por ti sere, por ti sere, por ti sere 199. Work all day to earn his pay, so we can play all night 200. Ever since you've been leaving me, I've been wanting to cry 201. Baby baby when I look at you, I get a warm feeling inside 202. And when we hear the voices sing, the book of love will open up and let us in 203. Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused -sweet dreams *204. He's licking his lips, he's ready to win, on the hunt tonight for love at first sting - rock you like a hurricane 205. I have a picture pinned to my wall - hold me now 206. I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky 207. You'll flow down her river, she'll ask and you'll give her 208. Earth below us drifting falling floating weightless - major tom 209. Ooh baby, do you know what that's worth? 210. I know when to pull you closer and I know when to let you loose 211. Let me hear your body talk - physical 212. Won't you pack your bags, we'll leave tonight 213. The beating of our hearts is the only sound 214. And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other 215. Is it so wrong to be human after all? 216. There is good and bad (mmmm-hmmm) in everyone 217. Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?- tina turner?? *218. It's gonna take money, a whole lotta spendin' money - It's All Right (or something like that) 219. I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like that tide is high 220. It must've been some kind of kiss, I shoulda walked away 221. You see it all around you, good lovin' gone bad 222. Ronny, Bobby, Ricky and Mike, if I like a girl, who cares who you like - definitely New Edition Back to work on the singing.

animals strike curious poses

[Pssstt....some hot chick is looking for birthday kisses!] It's Friday. I'm not supposed to be serious on Fridays. So, while I go over all your answers to the Five Songs thingie, I will leave you with this 80's lyrics quiz. I haven't looked at the answers yet (and I will not link to them until later on) so I'll take the quiz and give you my score in a bit. You can just answer the ones you know or the ones you feel like answering. Maybe between all of us, we can get all 222. That's right, 222. And remember, if you cheat and Google the answers, the baby Jesus will cry. Questions below: [ed note: I did NOT come up with these questions myself but I won't link to the site I got them from until I'm ready to give all the answers] 1. Suckin on chili dogs outside the Tastee-Freez 2. I've done no harm, I keep to myself 3. There's a freeway runnin' through the yard 4. I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all 5. Your mom threw away your best porno mag 6. Can you hear them? They talk about us, telling lies, well that's no surprise 7. One that won't make me nervous, wonderin what to do 8. Are you more than hot for me, or am I a page in your history (book) 9. I can hear you comin, I know what you're after 10. And it's true we are immune when fact is fiction and TV reality 11. Don't go around breaking young girls' hearts 12. I've got my back against the record machine 13. You take me by the heart when you take me by the hand 14. A cloud appears above your head, a beam of light comes shining down on you 15. I'm lying in the rain, but I never wave bye-bye 16. He's the one that makes ya feel alright 17. Are you happy, are you satisfied, how long can you stand heat 18. I think I thought you were someone else 19. I tried my imagination but I was disturbed 20. I tell you one and one makes three 21. I'll be stretching my mouth to let those big words come right out 22. And though she will mess up your life, you want her just the same 23. You can listen as well as you hear 24. Think of the tender things that we were working on 25. They gave you life and in return you gave them hell 26. Knew he must've been about seventeen 27. I am the maker of rules, dealing with fools 28. Can't get food for the king 29. Step on a crack, break your momma's back 30. Her hair reminds me of a warn safe place where as a child I'd lie 31. You're like the sun chasing all of the rain away 32. Everyone you meet, they're jamming in the streets 33. I'm not internationally known, but I'm known to rock microphone 34. Every time I see you falling, I get down on my knees and pray 35. We'll take your car, yes we will, we'll take your car and drive it 36. I said to my reflection "Let's get out of this place" 37. Easy ready willing overtime 38. The five years we have had have been such good times 39. Didn't know how lost I was until I found you 40. People of the world today are we looking for a better way of life 41. You in that dress my thoughts I confess verge on dirty 42. I'm about to lose control and I think I like it 43. Write it on a pound note, pound note 44. We are strong, no one can tell us we're wrong 45. Out on the road today, I saw a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac 46. Caught up in the action I've been looking out for you 47. An invisible man sleeping in your bed 48. But somewhere sometime when you're curious, I'll be back around 49. I know her love is true but it's so damn easy makin' love to you 50. Oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones 51. And incidents arose from circumstance 52. You know I like my girls a little bit older 53. You always live your life never thinking of the future 54. Now we're sharing the same dreams, and our hearts can beat as one 55. She don't need a man's touch 56. She'll get a hold on you, believe it 57. You're everywhere, but you're so hard to find 58. You want your percentage, but I'm the fool paying the dues 59. No April rain, no flowers' bloom, no wedding Saturday within the month of June 60. There's a skeleton chokin' on a crust of bread 61. With my body and soul I want you more than you'll ever know 62. I used to think maybe you loved me, now I know that it's true 63. Animals strike curious poses 64. Religion is a light in the fog 65. I don't know where I'm goin' but I sure know where I've been 66. If you want to find all the cops they're hanging out in the donut shop 67. And there's a heart that's breaking down this long distance line tonight 68. I'm always workin', slavin', every day 69. Feel like I could run away, run away from this empty heart 70. Kick off your Sunday shoes 71. Daddy says she's too young, but she's old enough for me 72. He turned to me as if to say, "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you" 73. You're not naive, you must be strong 74. Darken the city night is a wire, steam in the subway earth is afire 75. She had the body of a venus, Lord imagine my surprise 76. I can't help recalling how it felt to kiss and hold you tight 77. Will you meet him on the main line or will you catch him on the rebound? 78. Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game 79. You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day 80. Loving would be easy if your colours were like my dream, red, gold and green 81. They threw an American flag in our face 82. When I'm dancing close to her, I can smell the chemicals 83. She told me to come but I was already there 84. Streetlight people, living just to find emotion 85. It belongs to them, let's give it back 86. Everything you do is quite angelicate 87. Rolling like thunder under the covers 88. I don't know what you expect staring into the TV set 89. My eyes dilate, my lips go green 90. I touch you once, I touch you twice 91. To have you with me I would swim the seven seas 92. Crazy little woman in a one man show 93. Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet 94. Got in a little hometown jam, so they put a rifle in my hand 95. There is freedom within, there is freedom without 96. But whatever road you choose, I'm right behind you win or lose 97. I need fifty dollars to make you holler 98. So let's sink another drink `cause it'll give me time to think 99. Goddess on the mountain top 100. Couldn't see how much I missed you (now I do) 101. They even bother my poor father `cause he's down with me 102. Where can I find a woman like that 103. Paul, I think I told you I'm a lover not a fighter 104. Mine's an ordinary life, working when it's daylight and sleeping when it's night 105. I had a whiskey on the rocks and change of a dollar for the jukebox 106. Just don't ask me how I am 107. Your lights are on but you're not home 108. Take your passion and make it happen 109. That little faggot he's a millionaire 110. I was wrong, now I find just one thing makes me forget 111. So if you're feeling low, turn up your radio 112. It's no better to be safe than sorry 113. Darlin' in my wildest dreams I never thought I'd go 114. The road is long, there are mountains in your way 115. The Salvation Army band played and the children drank lemonade 116. The more you live, the faster you will die 117. I've got a secret I've been hiding under my skin 118. I love you though you hurt me so 119. Wouldn't wanna be swept away, far away from the one that I love 120. The sheik he drove his Cadillac 121. She showed me the beach, gave me a peach, and pulled out the suntan lotion 122. Two silhouettes saying goodnight by the garden gate 123. Have some more chicken, have some more pie 124. I asked the doctor to take your picture so I could look at you from inside as well 125. Well it's all right riding around in the breeze 126. I'm just going to keep on counting until you are mine 127. Every time you call my name, I heat up like a burnin' flame 128. This is it boys, this is war 129. I can't understand what makes a man hate another man 130. I can't sleep at night, I toss and turn 131. I know you really want to tell me goodbye 132. Food is served and you're stone cold munchin' 133. Don't let go while I'm hangin' on, `cause I been hangin' on so long 134. We can dance, everybody look at your hands 135. know a place where we can dance the whole night away underneath electric stars 136. I know a good thing must come to an end but it's hard to take losing a friend 137. Well Superman looked up at me, he said "You rock so naturally" 138. You can say anything you like, but you can't touch the merchandise 139. You want a piece of my heart, you better start from the start 140. But when the wrong word goes in the right ear, I know you been lyin' to me 141. I follow where my mind goes 142. What's your definition of dirty, baby 143. We'll leave the TV and the radio behind 144. All you sittin' in high places, the rain's gonna fall on you 145. I turn the switch and check the number, I leave it on when in bed I slumber 146. So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls 147. So you better go back to your bars, your temples, your massage parlors 148. Did you really think about it before you made the rules 149. So you think my singing's out of time, well it makes me money 150. Across the north and south to Key Largo, love for sale 151. Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama 152. I swear that I could see forever in your eyes 153. Nothing had the chance to be good, nothing ever could 154. Take my license and all that jive 155. Well by the force of will my lungs are filled, and so I breathe 156. Dreams stay with you like a lover's voice fires the mountainside 157. No huggin' no kissin' til I get a wedding ring 158. I don't worry `cause my wallet's fat 159. Sister's sighing in her sleep 160. Better make it fast or else I'm gonna get pissed 161. Wish I knew what you were looking for 162. What's your price for flight 163. I know a guy who's tough but sweet 164. And I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone 165. Why do I find it so hard to write the next line, oh I want the truth to be said 166. Every time he pulls me near, I just wanna cheer 167. Put the needle on the record 168. Whoa no, I've got to keep on moving 169. Once upon a time there was light in my life, but now there's only love in the dark 170. I stain my sheets, I don't even know why 171. There were incidents and accidents, there were hints and allegations 172. I can't get any rest, people say I'm obsessed 173. She dances like she's never danced before 174. Do your fancy dances 175. Your moves are so raw, I've got to let you know you're one of my kind 176. Get up, get up, get up, get up, let's make love tonight 177. But when I win your heart, I'm gonna paint it cherry red 178. All the doors I closed on time will open up again 179. Dream of better lives, the kind which never hate 180. You can feel the punishment but you can't commit the sin 181. I'm not the one to tell you what's wrong or what's right 182. He wants me, but only part of the time 183. People don't you know, don't you know it's about time 184. You were the first, you'll be the last 185. You think you're mad, too unstable, kicking in chairs and knocking down tables 186. Your heart's been achin' but you're too shy to say it 187. The only one who'll hang out with me is my dear Old Granddad 188. Things are going great, and they're only getting better 189. So you better treat her right 190. It's time to bring this ship in to the shore and throw away the oars forever 191. We are the ones who make a brighter day, so let's start giving 192. We could dance and party all night, and drink some cherry wine 193. Dressed up like a million-dollar trooper 194. You've got to find a way, say what you want to say 195. Sail away with me to another world 196. I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on 197. Welcome to the big time, you're bound to be a star 198. Yo no soy marinero, por ti sere, por ti sere, por ti sere 199. Work all day to earn his pay, so we can play all night 200. Ever since you've been leaving me, I've been wanting to cry 201. Baby baby when I look at you, I get a warm feeling inside 202. And when we hear the voices sing, the book of love will open up and let us in 203. Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused 204. He's licking his lips, he's ready to win, on the hunt tonight for love at first sting 205. I have a picture pinned to my wall 206. I can see a new horizon underneath the blazin' sky 207. You'll flow down her river, she'll ask and you'll give her 208. Earth below us drifting falling floating weightless 209. Ooh baby, do you know what that's worth? 210. I know when to pull you closer and I know when to let you loose 211. Let me hear your body talk 212. Won't you pack your bags, we'll leave tonight 213. The beating of our hearts is the only sound 214. And if this world runs out of lovers, we'll still have each other 215. Is it so wrong to be human after all? 216. There is good and bad (mmmm-hmmm) in everyone 217. Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken? 218. It's gonna take money, a whole lotta spendin' money 219. I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like that 220. It must've been some kind of kiss, I shoulda walked away 221. You see it all around you, good lovin' gone bad 222. Ronny, Bobby, Ricky and Mike, if I like a girl, who cares who you like

Sometimes, Anti-War means Anti-Peace

The discussions about Fallujah have convinced me of something I've suspected all along: The hardcore anti-war people are incredibly selfish. Allow me to explain. As soon as the media released the pictures of the horror that happened in Fallujah, the anti-war crowd reacted with their two basic answers to everything: Iraqis hate us, and bring the troops home now. It's a factual error to state that the Iraqis hate us. Much as the left hates when all Muslims or Arabs are lumped together under one terrorist roof, it is disingenuous of the same people to put all Iraqis together in one big lump. All Iraqis don't hate "us," but the people of the Sunni Triangle certainly do. I think I explained that one in a clear fashion the other day. You could always ask Iraqis what they think. They are very easy to find. For instance, we have Ali: bq. What happened in Fallujah yesterday, when foreigner contractors were killed and disfigured, was more than I could take. I felt extremely angry, disgusted frustrated and desperate. If you read the rest of Ali's post, you'll see that he does not hate the U.S. or it's forces or the coalition. He is, however, disgusted with the people of Fallujah who committed those horrible acts. If you've read the blogs of any anti-war folks over the past few days, you would get the impression that the Fallujans were speaking for all Iraqis when they murdered, burned and hung those civilian employees. The broad statement that Iraqis hate us bothers me less than the pull the troops out mantra those same people are screaming everyday. Here's what I would like those very people to tell me: What do you expect to happen if the coalition forces just up and left Iraq right now? Don't bother straining yourself thinking about it; I know it's hard for you to see past your own needs. I'll tell you what will happen. Iraq would revert back to a rogue nation. Any Iraqis who worked for or sided with the coalition will be killed. Possibly tortured, first. Their families will be killed. The schools and hospitals that have been built in the past year will become storage rooms for weapons and meeting places for terrorists. The women who are enjoying their new found freedom to have careers and come out from under their veils will once again be sentenced to house duty; that is, staying home, staying veiled, being treated as as an object of disdain by men more powerful than them. The children who were finally learning something besides the doctrines of Saddam will have their new textbooks ripped from them. The country once again will be ruled by fear and wracked with violence. In other words, Iraq will go back to being what it was in March of 2003: A place of terror, corruption, torture, death and oppression where only those who are beholden to evilness will rule. All hopes of democracy and freedom will be crushed. Those dreams of a constitution, good schools, a bright future - they will all be shot down. It will be as if we gave them hope and then pulled it out from under them. Do you realize that when you call for the troops to be pulled out immediately you are calling for the demons to rise once again in Iraq? The people in Fallujah who dragged those corpses through town and hung them from a bridge are the people who will rule the day if the troops leave. Is that what you want? Or do you care? Witness this comment left on this blog by this person: And I support the troops. I support them coming home alive. I support them disobeying orders. I support them shooting at their higher-ups rather than Iraqis. I support them rebeling and making it impossible for the U.S. to wage war or occupy nations. Such noble sentiments. It seems to be that the humanitarian thing to do - and I know that most anti-war people consider themselves humanitarians. So it leaves me to ask a very obvious question: Do you actually care about the people of Iraq? From where I sit, I'd have to say no. Looking at the anti-war movement and everyone in the ABB camp, it looks to me as if they are putting their interests first. Actually, it's only one interest, one goal, and that is to be able to wave their victory sign when the troops leave Iraq in a mess or when Bush is defeated. The hell with the consequences, full speed ahead. You are waging war against the wrong people. Bush is not your enemy. We are not your enemy. To place blame on every wrong in the world on Bush, on Republicans, on Halliburton, on the 2000 election or on Americans as a whole (arrogance, evil capitalism, etc.) is a grave error of judgment. I'd like to see the lot of you blame the atrocity in Fallujah on the actual people who conducted it. I'd like to see you place the blame for 9/11 on Islamic jihadists, and not Bush or Clinton or some moral affront to the religion of Islam. In looking for enemies to rail against, you have looked in the wrong places. I've said this many times before and it bears repeating: the very people that you think you are defending hate you as much as they hate me. They will not care if you are in the crowd when one of their bombs go off. So tell me, all of you. Do you think we should really pull the troops out now? If so, what do you propose to do about what will happen when Iraq sinks back into a pit of terror and torture? Or have you thought that far ahead? As much as you may think my views are wrong, at least they are not borne out of selfishness. I want terrorism to stop. I want people who committ acts of terror to be held responsible. I want all people to experience the freedom that I do. I want Iraqis to have that life they've only dreamed of, yet they are closer now to acheiving than ever before. So who is the smug one, then? I would think it's the person who considers their own agenda so important that they would sacrifice the well-being of the citizens of another country to acheive that goal. Troops home. Bush gone. That's certainly not a world I want to live in, nor would I wish that on anyone else. But, hey. That's just me. I have this crazy thing about thinking of the consequences of my action. Why don't you all go to Ali's blog and tell him what you think? Tell him you want to leave him and his family stranded, left to the rule of the Sunni Triangle terrorists. Don't forget to tell him why. I'm sure he'll understand when you tell him that you just want Bush to fail. Perhaps you should go ask Firas the same questions. No, don't bother, they've already been addressed:
I was about to publish a new article to the website when I noticed about the attack in Faloja. So I stopped and couldnít do any thing till this morning, honestly because I was so shamed and didnít know what to say, I even didnít want to open my website today so I wont read any comments about it, I was afraid that people would think that all Iraqis are savages. But let me tell you this, the people who stood there even to watch whatís going on are not human. Itís really difficult to describe what I felt, but I will try. I felt anger, disgust, terror, depressed, pain in stomach, and even guilt, I am sure I wasnít thinking clear so I waited a while before I left back home. But Now I know that I want to tell the world that me and the Iraqi people I know and those whom I saw since yesterday all shamed of what happened and refuse it and want to do something to stop things like that. Of course we need the help of the coalition to do so but we will do our best.
I should leave you with the words of Ali: bq. We have suffered enough to get our freedom, thanks to our friends who sacrificed much to achieve their peace and ours, and we canít turn back and we will never accept slavery again. No, better to die free than live as slaves for our fears. And you want to deny him that? That is the height of smug selfishness.

April 01, 2004

Tonight's Moment of Zen

By popular request, I will keep doing these. Other Zen moments can be found here. [click for bigger image] There were three zen pictures for tonight. The other two are new additions to the gallery.

the closest I'll get to being famous

Thank you, James for plugging ASV on the Hugh Hewitt show. To those coming here, try skipping today and poking around the archives (Try Mon, Tues and Wed of this week). I feel just like I did that day when unexpected company arrived while I was belting out Sister Christian, using the vaccum hose as a microphone. Naked. Except for the Packers helmet. Well, at least those Jehova's Witnesses never came back. [Hugh Hewitt fans might enjoy my other site, The Command Post]

thought of the night

Why do I continue to be surpised at the moral smugness of some people? You would think I'd be used to this by now. Yet, I am continually amazed at the rigtheousness of those who make their own halos.

Song One of Five

I figured I would take my Five Songs and do them one at a time. Because I can, thatís why. And, because I am the boss of this place, I may even do more than five.

Todayís songs is Faith No More, Helpless (which was on my original list). As with everything I write about, it has a story to go with it. I wrote this in my journal, almost three years ago when this blog had a separate journal page.

sense of snow

We sat in the car, huddled in the back seat underneath a comforter. We were parked in the lot of a closed-down restaurant, overlooking an expansive field of dried out grass. Behind us was the highway, the road that would once again separate us. It was March and it was cold and we were tired of these short bursts of togetherness. We were sitting there, plotting and planning for this to be the last time I would make the trip home alone. Next time, he would come with me. He would move his belongings, his life, his world into mine. All that planning and dreaming didn't make this farewell any easier. No matter how many times you do it, no matter how many times you throw kisses into the rear view mirror as you pull away, it never becomes easy.

So we put it off for a little while, that kiss. We stayed hunkered down in the car, talking and kissing and not thinking about the long stretch of time between this visit and the next.

We watched the clouds move in and form a wall of threat in front of us. The sky had gone gray and dull since we first pulled into the lot. The air changed, the cold became bitter. Still, we made no move to go. We watched out the windshield as a storm moved in. As we kissed, the wind whistled at us.

The first flakes fell with precision and grace, dancing from the sky onto the windows, where they would sparkle momentarily and then melt and run away.

We both knew I should leave. Driving through the mountains of Pennsylvania in a snow storm was a frightening thought. But it didn't look like a huge storm; just some flakes here and there. So I stayed a bit more. I wanted to soak up as much of him as I could before I left.

The snow started to fall a bit harder, a bit faster. We listened to the sound of the snow; a soft, shuffling sound that like slippered footsteps on the roof of the car. The flakes that landed on the windows no longer had the luxury of melting and disappearing. Before they could flee, more flakes fell on top of them, piling up until there were millions of them, held captive on my windshield. We could no longer see out. The wind carried the snow around the lenght of the car, and soon we were encased in darkness, buried under a storm that minutes ago had seemed benign.

We made no effort to turn on the wipers and look out. We liked it there, under the blanket, under the snow, under the wintry sky.

Eventually the coldness of our cocoon became too much and we turned the car on. The wipers went to work, pushing the sleet and snow from the windshield. It made little difference. The world out there was white all around. The restaurant and field were gone, replaced by a blanket of falling snow so thick it made me claustrophobic. I panicked at the thought of driving home and gave one fleeting thought to staying, to holing up in the car for the rest of the storm, like lovers on the run.

It would be a long ride home through the bad weather and usual Sunday traffic.