Thursday, November 27, 2003
Bush's Thanksgiving trip to Baghdad appears a brilliant political move on the surface. However, I can't help but think this will come back to haunt him.
The secrecy and security accompanying the trip as well as its brevity highlight the chaos that is Iraq. The contrast with the triumphant "mission accomplished" photo op on the Abraham Lincoln is too obvious, and the Democrats should start working now to exploit the discord. I'm no director, but a television ad showing Bush sneaking into Baghdad under cover of darkness and radio silence accompanied by a voice over of his speech on the Lincoln proclaiming a bright new day in Iraq would be priceless.
Nothing makes Democrats sweat more than footage of cheering troops. Rove knows this and will do everything in his power to make more "news" like this. The administration, however, really doesn't want anyone looking below the surface and uncovering the daily hell that the troops are facing over there.
The Dems need to strap on a pair and fight through this superficial bullshit. They need to point out that we're getting nothing from Iraq but a steady stream of body bags and broken families. A two minute speech and a spoonful of yams doesn't change the fact that dozens of those young cheering soldiers will be dead by Christmas.
The secrecy and security accompanying the trip as well as its brevity highlight the chaos that is Iraq. The contrast with the triumphant "mission accomplished" photo op on the Abraham Lincoln is too obvious, and the Democrats should start working now to exploit the discord. I'm no director, but a television ad showing Bush sneaking into Baghdad under cover of darkness and radio silence accompanied by a voice over of his speech on the Lincoln proclaiming a bright new day in Iraq would be priceless.
Nothing makes Democrats sweat more than footage of cheering troops. Rove knows this and will do everything in his power to make more "news" like this. The administration, however, really doesn't want anyone looking below the surface and uncovering the daily hell that the troops are facing over there.
The Dems need to strap on a pair and fight through this superficial bullshit. They need to point out that we're getting nothing from Iraq but a steady stream of body bags and broken families. A two minute speech and a spoonful of yams doesn't change the fact that dozens of those young cheering soldiers will be dead by Christmas.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Good article in Time about the money making potential of anger. The discourse in this country is currently being driven by raving idealogues at the extremes, and people are making serious cash from it. Yelling is always easier and more profitable than discussion; you don't need to spend time and money researching or thinking about issues when all you do is scream the political equivalent of "so's your mother."
I am as ready to launch into diatribe as the next guy, but I realize it's not constructive. And I certainly don't label it political discussion. (You know who you are, O'Reilly, Hannity et al.) People who are serious about changing things in this country need to consider carefully the impact anger has on our public discussion. If we don't turn the tide, our democracy will drown in a bilious sea.
I am as ready to launch into diatribe as the next guy, but I realize it's not constructive. And I certainly don't label it political discussion. (You know who you are, O'Reilly, Hannity et al.) People who are serious about changing things in this country need to consider carefully the impact anger has on our public discussion. If we don't turn the tide, our democracy will drown in a bilious sea.
Saturday, November 22, 2003
It's game day!! There's nothing better. Go, Trojans!! Beat the Bruins!!
Post Script: The Trojans did indeed beat the hapless Bruins. However, for anyone not interested in either team, it was probably about as much fun as watching someone beat a dog out behind the woodshed. I should feel bad, but I don't. UCLA is an evil, evil place, and last Saturday was merely god's way of smiting the wicked.
Post Script: The Trojans did indeed beat the hapless Bruins. However, for anyone not interested in either team, it was probably about as much fun as watching someone beat a dog out behind the woodshed. I should feel bad, but I don't. UCLA is an evil, evil place, and last Saturday was merely god's way of smiting the wicked.
Friday, November 21, 2003
Another 27 people dead in Turkey, and the front page has eyes only for Jocko, busted yet again for felonious frolicking. My initial thought was, "Sweet baby Jesus, we are truly a pathetic people." However, upon reflection, I realized that our complete lack of depth and perspective is actually what makes us strong. If nothing matters, nothing can hurt you.
I had a similar reaction when I saw people on exercise machines watching video of the burning Trade Center on September 12. At that point, I remember thinking there's no way the terrorists can win. They think this shit matters to us. Sure, individually we felt bad and some were deeply affected by the loss of a particular person or group, but, collectively, this was just another picture on TV. Disturbing on some level, but not enough to keep us from our daily exercise. (I'm as much to blame. The only reason I saw those people only because I was there right next to them.)
They blow themselves up and kill 3000 people, and we go jog in place for 30 minutes and then give blood. You don't see us wailing and vowing revenge (except on Fox News.) That's pretty remarkable if you think about it.
Sure, our collective shallowness has a number of drawbacks, not the least of which is Carrot Top and those fucking AT&T commercials. However, it also insulates us from serious psychic harm. Therefore, instead of complaining about our country's ability to be distracted by shiny objects, I'm going to celebrate it. It's what makes us impervious.
I had a similar reaction when I saw people on exercise machines watching video of the burning Trade Center on September 12. At that point, I remember thinking there's no way the terrorists can win. They think this shit matters to us. Sure, individually we felt bad and some were deeply affected by the loss of a particular person or group, but, collectively, this was just another picture on TV. Disturbing on some level, but not enough to keep us from our daily exercise. (I'm as much to blame. The only reason I saw those people only because I was there right next to them.)
They blow themselves up and kill 3000 people, and we go jog in place for 30 minutes and then give blood. You don't see us wailing and vowing revenge (except on Fox News.) That's pretty remarkable if you think about it.
Sure, our collective shallowness has a number of drawbacks, not the least of which is Carrot Top and those fucking AT&T commercials. However, it also insulates us from serious psychic harm. Therefore, instead of complaining about our country's ability to be distracted by shiny objects, I'm going to celebrate it. It's what makes us impervious.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
IRONY OVERLOAD
Last weekend I went to the Seattle Art Museum's new exhibit, "Baja to Vancouver: The West Coast and Contemporary Art." Apparently, the West Coast is awash with irony (perhaps el nino is to blame), and the flood of arch artistic observations threatens to leave the Pacific Coast art scene a conceptual disaster area.
I'm a huge fan of irony, but like any tool, it can be mis- and overused. With a few notable exceptions, each piece in the exhibit was an "ironic commentary on [fill in your hated bourgoise icon or artform here]." When everything is ironic, irony dies, and by the fourth or fifth piece it ceased to be amusing and became tiresome, almost insulting. I was reminded of a great character from the old "Kids in the Hall" show, Sarcasm Man. He would always speak in a sarcastic tone of voice regardless of his sincerity and, predictably, his conversations devolved into shouting matches. (Okay, like all comedy it loses something in translation, but it was funny.)
The point is, irony only works when it is applied sparingly and subtly. It is a rapier, not a club. Most of the artists displaying work at the SAM would do well to remember that if they desire a dialogue with their observer, not an argument.
Last weekend I went to the Seattle Art Museum's new exhibit, "Baja to Vancouver: The West Coast and Contemporary Art." Apparently, the West Coast is awash with irony (perhaps el nino is to blame), and the flood of arch artistic observations threatens to leave the Pacific Coast art scene a conceptual disaster area.
I'm a huge fan of irony, but like any tool, it can be mis- and overused. With a few notable exceptions, each piece in the exhibit was an "ironic commentary on [fill in your hated bourgoise icon or artform here]." When everything is ironic, irony dies, and by the fourth or fifth piece it ceased to be amusing and became tiresome, almost insulting. I was reminded of a great character from the old "Kids in the Hall" show, Sarcasm Man. He would always speak in a sarcastic tone of voice regardless of his sincerity and, predictably, his conversations devolved into shouting matches. (Okay, like all comedy it loses something in translation, but it was funny.)
The point is, irony only works when it is applied sparingly and subtly. It is a rapier, not a club. Most of the artists displaying work at the SAM would do well to remember that if they desire a dialogue with their observer, not an argument.
This morning I awoke to a military commander stating that his troops had "hit farmhouses and other structures with 500 and 1000 lbs. bombs." The structures were "known to house or recently have housed insurgents." It took me a second to realize that I was hearing news from Iraq and not the West Bank. My god, if Vietnam is too remote for our current "leaders" to remember, can't they look a few hundred miles to the west and see how well such tactics are currently suppressing guerrilla warfare?
This would be comical if real people weren't dying daily.
This would be comical if real people weren't dying daily.
Monday, November 17, 2003
Crawling home feeling empty
knowing that to be filled would
require more than I can give.
Haunted by the past, I flog
the present leaving it bruised
beaten and achingly quiet.
Every turning leaf reveals
the same view and the same path.
Can you turn over a new life?
knowing that to be filled would
require more than I can give.
Haunted by the past, I flog
the present leaving it bruised
beaten and achingly quiet.
Every turning leaf reveals
the same view and the same path.
Can you turn over a new life?
Friday, November 14, 2003
It is difficult to keep perspective sometimes when you're breathlessly bombarded with minutia. J-Lo and Ben, the Prince's hanky-panky, Fear Factor, all are designed to keep us from looking up from our trough of indulgence long enough to see what's going on. I am as guilty as anyone. I come home at night, turn on the TV and immerse myself in the fictitious and exaggerated lives and loves of others. It's easy and comfortable, and it helps me forget how quiet my place can be when no one is around.
However, this week something happened that made me leap up from my stupor and spill doritos all over my naugahyde couch: "Saving Private Lynch." The rank hipocrisy of those who would foist tripe like "Private Lynch" on the American People while sending boys and girls off to die for a crazed delusion makes me alternatively angry and ill. If we really want to honor our vets, we'd tell their real story. Where are the TV specials about how verterans' benefits are being cut, their tours lengthened and their needs ignored by people who shipped them off to a war that didn't need to be fought? "Exploiting Private Gomez," has a nice ring to it.
If there is any justice, Hell has a special place for the originators of this shameless piece of revisionist propaganda. Personally, I'd put them somewhere between the Seventh (the violent) and Eighth (the fraudulent) circles, but the Third, among the gluttons, has some appeal. Regardless, I hope that part of their punishiment includes seeing their own children die over and over again while tater-tot-eating, slack-jawed yokels watch and cheer.
However, this week something happened that made me leap up from my stupor and spill doritos all over my naugahyde couch: "Saving Private Lynch." The rank hipocrisy of those who would foist tripe like "Private Lynch" on the American People while sending boys and girls off to die for a crazed delusion makes me alternatively angry and ill. If we really want to honor our vets, we'd tell their real story. Where are the TV specials about how verterans' benefits are being cut, their tours lengthened and their needs ignored by people who shipped them off to a war that didn't need to be fought? "Exploiting Private Gomez," has a nice ring to it.
If there is any justice, Hell has a special place for the originators of this shameless piece of revisionist propaganda. Personally, I'd put them somewhere between the Seventh (the violent) and Eighth (the fraudulent) circles, but the Third, among the gluttons, has some appeal. Regardless, I hope that part of their punishiment includes seeing their own children die over and over again while tater-tot-eating, slack-jawed yokels watch and cheer.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
In a recent press conference, Bush said that the attacks in Iraq are coming from, among others, "foreigners" who are upset because they "know that a free Iraq cannot be a breeding ground for terrorists." Let's assume he is correct. Don't Bush and his neo-con posse see the irony of the situation? Terrorists would not consider Iraq a potential "breeding ground" if it wasn't for our invasion.
Yes, Saddam's regime was brutal. Yes, it was oppressive. However, whatever it was, it was not a cradle of radical religiosity. In fact, of the various countries in the middle east, Iraq was the least likely to produce martyrs for Allah. Thus, our crusade to end terrorism (if you beleive the neo-con spin) has actually opened up new, fertile territory for the radical element to exploit. Territory we cannot control.
It's enough to make you cry sometimes.
Yes, Saddam's regime was brutal. Yes, it was oppressive. However, whatever it was, it was not a cradle of radical religiosity. In fact, of the various countries in the middle east, Iraq was the least likely to produce martyrs for Allah. Thus, our crusade to end terrorism (if you beleive the neo-con spin) has actually opened up new, fertile territory for the radical element to exploit. Territory we cannot control.
It's enough to make you cry sometimes.
Well, thanks to the encouragement and help of a good friend, I have joined the bloggosphere, in which any jackass with a computer can broadcast his thoughts to the entire globe at a push of a button. Brave new world, indeed.
Of course, a medium's efficiency varies inversely with its accessibility. In other words, when everyone shouts, no one is heard, and bloggers have created a cacophony. Therefore, I'm not going to try to make a meaningful contribution to the discourse here. I'm merely going to add my murmuring to the crowd.
To that end, I want to point out that Bush has already raised over $100 million in campaign contributions, Iraq remains a mess, and Britney Spears still can't figure out whether she wants to appear a slutty virgin or a virginal whore.
There's too much going on to keep quiet.
[Thanks, b, I think I will like this new toy.]
Of course, a medium's efficiency varies inversely with its accessibility. In other words, when everyone shouts, no one is heard, and bloggers have created a cacophony. Therefore, I'm not going to try to make a meaningful contribution to the discourse here. I'm merely going to add my murmuring to the crowd.
To that end, I want to point out that Bush has already raised over $100 million in campaign contributions, Iraq remains a mess, and Britney Spears still can't figure out whether she wants to appear a slutty virgin or a virginal whore.
There's too much going on to keep quiet.
[Thanks, b, I think I will like this new toy.]
