The Wayback Machine - http://web.archive.org/web/20040317170735/http://www.lobowalk.com:80/
Just a guy from the sticks living in the city
Wed Mar 17, 2004
Attention Listeners
A few days ago I was doing some tinkering with some of the back-end scripting on this site and, like a complete freaking idiot, I didn’t check all of my links. As a result some of you haven’t been able to access the “more” links.
Thanks to the e-mailers who brought it to my attention. The problem is now fixed, carry on.
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The Blue Horizon
I believe it was 1983 when Rob, Dennis, and I were on our way to Cascade via the Middle Fork of the Weiser River road sometime in mid-August. We were on our way to the Cascade rodeo in Dennis’ new Chevy S-10, the one in which Rob had gotten decidedly drunk and puked in my lap the night before while I drove and Dennis crashed on my couch back at my apartment. As I looked down in my lap I realized that Rob had apparently had macaroni and cheese for supper that night.
The rest of the story »
Just mere minutes before Rob’s big boot we’d dropped Sue S. off at her house after the three of us had taken a drive up Hornet Creek, over Ridge Road, and, finally, over to Fruitvale and then back towards town. During the whole drive Rob had been, shall we say, putting the moves on Sue and Sue kept scooting closer to me in an attempt to detangle herself from Rob’s grasp. Finally Rob simply passed out and when I stopped by Sue’s house out on highway 95, before she got out of the S-10 she looked at me and said, “Thanks”.
After dropping Sue off I headed back into town to my apartment while Rob’s head banged against the window with every corner. Somewhere along the way he began flailing away and finally ended up face down in my lap where I then became intimately aware of what his supper had consisted of. When we made it to my place I dragged Rob’s ass into the house and then commenced to cleaning the seats of Dennis’ S-10. Thank God for Scotch Guard.
To this day I still remember the following morning as we sat on the couch and nursed a hangover. Rob sat on the couch babbling like he does and then suddenly he stopped, eyes concentrating.
“Did I throw up last night?” He asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “You did, right on my lap, asshole”.
Rob slapped his head in relief. “Thank God, I thought I puked on Sue.”
The previous couple of years had been quit tumultuous for the three of us. We’d graduated, made feeble attempts at going our own ways, ended up back in Council and were ready to make another go at it or so it seemed. Each of us had been involved in relationships with girlfriends that were at least a couple of years old with Dennis’ relationship with Carrie being the longest standing. For reasons as varied and, now, as pointless as our lives our now, twenty-some years later, meaningful, we were now on this mid-August afternoon, single.
Some of my strongest and most meaningful memories are of late summer days in Council. The way the sun casts long shadows from the mountains, pine trees, and rocks; the color of the light. To this day I can see various friends, family, and acquaintance’s faces squinting into the setting sun, the warm yellow reflecting from their faces. I could name a dozen names right now of the faces that I see flickering through my memory like a stack of still photographs being fanned through between thumb and forefinger.
Right now I can fully remember Rob, Dennis, and I sitting in the S-10, driving up the Middle Fork. I sat on the passenger side, Rob sat in the middle, and Dennis drove. We drank cold beers, talked about things I cannot fully remember and life was, seemingly, as good as it could be. We’d been through our own personal turbulence and right now none of it mattered.
We rounded the switchback just below Cabin Creek and Dennis asked, “You know what weekend this is?”
Rob and I looked at him like a couple of idiots.
“If things would have gone right”, Dennis continued, “We’d all be wearing monkey suites right now while Carrie and I said our I do’s.”
This was the weekend that Dennis and Carrie were supposed to get married. Rob and I had completely forgotten about it and, for me, it explained a bit as to why Dennis was being who he was this particular weekend.
When you’re twenty years old there is no other time when the term, “living on the fly” has more meaning.
We drove along in silence for a bit; windows down and the Middle Fork dropping away as went up the hill and around the back side of Council Mountain.
We got into Cascade a bit late and decided to make camp on the shore of the lake. Early in the morning we were awakened by a neighboring camp’s yapping little dog’s incessant barking that went on until Rob made a loud comment about, “Ripping the little fucker’s lungs out and tossing it in the lake.”
Just after sun up, we drove around to the west side of the lake and took a bath in the cold water. The bath served the duel purpose of making ourselves fit for human consumption and waking ourselves up. The latter worked somewhat while the former was a lost cause.
I don’t remember a lot of details about the time we spent at the Cascade rodeo. I remember that it was a lot of fun. I remember meeting a couple of girls. I remember Dennis almost getting into a fight; something to do with Dorito Chips, or some pressing matter like that. I remember going to a dance; there’s nothing quite like a rodeo dance to square the night away.
Somewhere along the way we’d decided it was time to head back home, this time via highway 55 to McCall. It was already late when we left Cascade and by the time we got to McCall we were pretty tired so we decided to find a camping spot up the Warren Wagon Road, somewhere by the North Shore of the Payette Lake. Soon we were off the paved road and onto a little two-track spur and parked right next to one of the many water-ways on the north end of the lake.
We stumbled out of the S-10, threw our sleeping bags out in the dirt under the moon-lit night and called it good. I fell asleep breathing in the scent of the forest.
I’m pretty sure that the first crack of thunder is what woke me up. After that I could see the flash of lightening through my closed eyes followed by several more cracks. There’s something about the sound of thunder over a lake that has its own distinctive quality. Soon raindrops the size of cherries were slapping off my face and after a few more loud cracks it was soon a raging torrent. I thought to myself that I’d better grab some limited space in the cab of the S-10 while the gettin’ was good so I crawled out of my sleeping bag and hobbled to the truck, opened up the passenger side door and crawled in, pulling the sleeping bag over me. Soon Rob followed, opening up the driver’s he immediately began to complain about, “That damn steering wheel”, and I made some comment about him not getting too cozy.
“Fuck you”, Rob said and we both fell asleep.
We woke to a beautiful, sun-filled morning with Dennis lying in the back of the truck looking like a wet, mud-covered dog. Rob and I got out of the cab laughing our asses off and Dennis woke up with a lop sided grin.
“What the hell happened to you”? I asked.
Dennis came back with something about him crawling under the truck when the rain started but, the problem was, there was a low spot under the ground and the water just gushed in. Finally he opted for the back of the truck rather than lay in a mud puddle.
After a few minutes of shooting the bull we finally headed down the road, taking Goose Creek down to New Meadows then 95 south through Tamarack and finally to Council and thus the weekend excursion to Cascade ended.
One of the best things about good friends is that you can have a good time and good conversations when there’s not a lot to do or a lot to talk about. That’s how it was and is with Rob, Dennis, and me. I could also throw Troy in there too but Troy didn’t happen to be along on this particular trip.
There’s something about that part of the country that has always struck me and that is that in the low angled light of morning or late after noon the distant mountains seem to take on a blue color. It really is quite beautiful. We drove through New Meadows continuing whatever conversation that began back up at the North Shore and I was taken by the distant blue horizon.
God, I thought to myself, it’s so blue and so beautiful; this blue horizon.
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Tue Mar 16, 2004
Appeasement, Arrogance, Honor, and Cowardice
Michael J.
Totten calls a spade a spade and catches grief for it.
To use the word "appeasement" in regards to the Spanish surrender in the war
on terror is not arrogant, it is accurate. There is no other way
to look at it.
My wife, who is Eastern European, made an interesting observation today
which may be somewhat of an indicator of the differences between the mind set
of Old Europe and Eastern Europe: "It's sad that there seems to be no shame in
cowardice any more."
Is "cowardice" a strong word? I don't think so. I think that it accurately
describes the situation. Fact: just days before the 3/11 bombings all polls
indicated that Aznar's party was set to win re-election. Fact: just days
after the bombings the pro appeasement party socialists win in a
landslide. Why? Because the people of Spain were frightened. No dishonor in
being frightened but to collapse under the fear to appease the wishes of your
enemy is cowardice.
This is not to say that the US has not buckled under to cowardice, far from
it. But we've paid the price and I sincerely hope that we've learned a lesson;
a lesson that, sadly, Spain will almost assuredly learn the hard way.
Okay, I've just about beat this dead horse back to life. I need a break. I
think I better start posting some "Life In Council" stories.
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Okay, One More Whack At Spain
As an indicator of the quality of government that Spain has just elected
itself one need only read this. It's the same article that I linked below but you
need to thoroughly read it to come up with gems like:
A senior colleague of Mr Zapatero, Jose Bono, mistakenly blurted out live on
television that Mr Blair was "un gilipollas integral [a complete
dickhead]".
Yep, Spain, in your cowardice you just bought yourself one wild ride.
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Repercussions Of Spain’s Surrender
The dinner with Jimmy and Linnea went well. Like I've said before, good food
and good wine with good people will result in good conversation; especially if
the people with whom you are dining are as intelligent as Jimmy and Linnea.
While sitting at the table digging into prime rib and slurping Chianti we
talked politics, the terror war and, of course, the Spain train bombings were
heavy on our minds. We all didn't agree on many points but you know what? We
still managed to give our hugs and shake our hands before leaving, planning our
next dinner date. That's the difference when truly intelligent people converse,
even when they may not agree.
Jimmy has, what I consider, valuable insight in that he has spent a
considerable amount of time in the Middle East and has first hand experience
with the people and their culture. Because of that I have to respect
many of his opinions even though I may not agree with all of them.
The thing that all four of us agreed on was the notion that the current
brand of terrorism that we are fighting is based, mostly, on religious
ideology. The US and the West could pull every influence out of the Middle East
and we would still suffer attacks at the hands of Islamic terrorists.
That is fact, period. The main motivation behind 9/11 and subsequent Islamic
terrorist attacks is for the simple fact that we are hated because we are not
Muslim. This is not to say that all Muslims are a threat but, in this war on
Terror, most if not all our enemies are Muslim. The chasm is wrenched even
wider given the fact of the vast differences in life and world views between
the Arab/Islamic world and most everyone else in the civilized world.
Where we didn't agree is in what to do about it. Jimmy asked me, if all that
we discussed to this point is true then what do we do? I turned the question
around and asked him what he thinks we should do. His answer is much the same
as many Europeans in that Islamic terrorism is something we simply cannot
prevent in total and that the best we can do is hope to manage it. This is
where we differ because, to me, this is just not acceptable. The civilized
world cannot progress under such a threat. Like I said before, civilization may
as well put a bullet in its head if we cannot even ride a train to work without
the possibility of being blown up because we don't believe and live under
Islamic law.
I think that one of biggest hindrances in our ability to fully understand
what we're up against is that we tend to look for answers based on our cultural
world view. Many people in the West share the idea that people just want to
live and be left alone, a sort of "live and let live" approach. You do what you
want and we'll do what we want and we'll just leave it at that. This is one of
the reasons that many feel that our very going to war against terrorism has
stirred the hornets nest so to speak. This train of thought promotes the idea
that the 9/11 attacks here in the US and the 3/11 attacks in Spain are simply
the result of our geo-political actions within the Middle East. It is apparent
that the election in Spain is the result of such a belief. As a result, I
believe, that Spain has possibly opened a Pandora's Box the likes of which
Europe has never seen in regards to terrorism by, in fact, allowing
terrorism to dictate the outcome of an election. Even if 3/11 was not the work
of Islamic terrorists the fear that it was changed, to some degree, the
political direction of a nation. Terror aims to get results by instilling fear
and Spain's 3/11 worked like a charm. Yeah, Pandora's Box is wide open. Spain
is the first terror war ally to, in essence, surrender:
Mr Zapatero made clear that it would take a revolution in US policy to stop
him withdrawing Spanish troops from the "disaster" of Iraq.
He said he would develop a more pro-European policy, and would seek to
develop a "magnificent" partnership with France and Germany.
"Mr Blair and Mr Bush must do some reflection and self-criticism . . . you
can't organise a war with lies," he said in a radio interview.
"The war has been a disaster," Mr Zapatero said. "The occupation continues
to be a disaster. It has only caused violence.
The only response I can think of for Mr. Zapatero is; Fuck you.
One has to wonder if this is a first possible step in what Mark
Steyn refers as Europe's transormation into "Eurabia"?
Steyn puts it in even starker perspective with:
"When people see a strong horse and a weak horse, naturally they will like
the strong horse." So said Osama bin Laden in his final video appearance
two-and-a-half years ago. But even the late Osama might have been surprised to
see the Spanish people, invited to choose between a strong horse and a weak
horse, opt to make their general election an exercise in mass self-gelding.
Islamic terrorists have no intention of living and letting us live. To them
we are infidels and as such we must either convert or die. I have no intention
of converting to Islam and I have no intention of dying at the hands of an
Islamic terrorists.
So what are we to do? I don't have the answer to that. I do know that to
simply acquiesce is the sure road to enslavement. I do fear that many people do
not seem to realize that. I also fear that this will get far, far worse before
it gets better. I strongly feel that we cannot survive this, win the war on
terror, by trying to root out individual terrorist cells around the world and
throughout the Middle East, much like we've been doing since 9/11. We can go
this route for generations and it will be to no avail. I feel that the long
term solution to Islamic terrorism can come, ironically, only from within the
Islamic world but the Islamic world needs the incentive to police its own. How
do we provide or force such incentive short of horrific and cataclysmic
responses to terror acts? Is that what it's going to take?
The one thing I do know for certain is that the actions of Spain and
Mr. Zapatero are what will most likely prove disastrous in the war on
terror.
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Mon Mar 15, 2004
The Way Of The EU
Apparently Spain's new leadership is preparing to relinquish its sovereignty to the EU.
BRUSSELS, March 15 (Reuters) - Spain's new priorities are to restore relations with core European allies, rethink its role in Iraq and leave strategic dialogue with the United States to the European Union, its likely future Socialist foreign minister said on Monday.
I won't get into whether or not this is a good thing. I will say that this is an almost perfect demonstration of the differences between the American and European approach as the idea of relinquishing matters of national security to a foreign body is unacceptable to most Americans.
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Sun Mar 14, 2004
Spanish Implications
It's still too early and close to call in Spain right now concerning the
elections. However, for those who foolishly believe that the terrorist attacks
are the result of Spanish support of America in the war on terrorism and in
Iraq-they are both one and the same, for those who are willing to live
with terrorist attacks because the best we can hope to do is manage
terrorist activities to a tolerable level, please read this.
Mark Steyn says that, fundamentally, Islamic terrorists want to kill us
anyway. He points out that Islamic terrorism is different than other brands of
terrorism such as that of ETA or the IRA. As insidious as the acts of terrorism
are from these two organizations at least there is some rationality
behind their thought processes.
Even if you'd avoided Iraq or Andalusia or British banks or Pilger or any
other affront to Islamist sensibilities, you'd still be a target. As the PR guy
for the Islamic Army of Aden said after blowing up that French tanker: "We
would have preferred to hit a US frigate, but no problem because they are all
infidels." Commissioner Keelty is confusing old-school terrorism –
blowing the legs off grannies as a means to an end – with the new:
blowing the legs off grannies is the end. Old-school terrorists have relatively
viable goals: They want a Basque state or Northern Ireland removed from the UK.
You might not agree with these goals, you might not think them negotiable, but
at least they're not stark staring insane.
If Islamic terrorism were as rational as Irish or Basque terrorism, it would
be easier. But Hussein Massawi, former leader of Hezbollah, summed it up very
pithily: "We are not fighting so that you will offer us something. We
are fighting to eliminate you." You can be pro-America (Spain,
Australia) or anti-America (France, Canada), but if you broke into the head
cave in the Hindu Kush and checked out the hit list you'd be on it either
way.
I can think of no better summation. That is what makes the war on terrorism
so pressing. For those who attack us, it is not about what we do or who we
support. It is about what we are not.
So the choice for pluralist democracies is simple: You can join Bush in
taking the war to the terrorists, to their redoubts and sponsoring regimes.
Despite the sneers that terrorism is a phenomenon and you can't wage war
against a phenomenon, in fact you can – as the Royal Navy did very
successfully against the malign phenomena of an earlier age, piracy and
slavery.
Or you can stick your head in the sand and paint a burqa on your butt. But
they'll blow it up anyway.
Update
As early results are indicating, putting the anti-Bush/anti-war on terrorism
socialist party in power, Spain has apparently made its unfortunate
decision.
If this is the case than the terrorists have won an important battle in
Spain. They have managed to change the outcome of an election to one that is
more favorable to them. We'll wait and see.
Pathetic.
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Sat Mar 13, 2004
99 Percent Certain
Reuters is reporting:
MADRID, Spain (Reuters) - Spain's intelligence service is "99 percent
certain"Muslim Islamo-facists not Basque
militants terrorists perpetrated the Madrid train bombings
that killed 200 people, a Spanish radio station reported on Saturday.
I've taken the liberty of de-PCing the above copy so that it is easier to
get at the truth.
Keep in mind that "99 percent" is still not certain but if it does indeed
turn out to me the work of Islamo-facists the whole war on terror just took a
whole other turn.
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Saturday Morning Nonsense
I actually managed to make it to 5:00 am before waking up. Amazing.
Later in the day Anna and I are having another couple come over for dinner,
Jimmy and his wife, Linnea. My wife met Linnea in graduate school and they have
been pretty good friends since. Jimmy is Air Force and he's currently waiting
for word on where he will be stationed. As such we are all getting in some
friend-time before they move away.
Right now I have a five pound prime rib marinating in a mixture of olive
oil, grated onion, thyme, marjoram, basil, and garlic. I've also placed several
cloves of garlic in slits in the roast it self, one can never have too much
garlic. After it's done marinating I'm going to encase with about a half inch
of a water-Kosher salt paste mixture. I know it sounds crazy but, I tell you,
it's the best way to cook a prime rib.
After it's done cooking you have to break the casing away because after
cooking it's very hard, almost like porcelain. Once it's all broken away you
have an extremely juicy and melt in your mouth tender prime rib that tastes
like heaven.
The plan is to have a soup before the roast along with a salad. As a side
note we do have a bottle of Chianti which will be consumed during the dinner.
Damn, I'm getting hungry all ready.
Because I'm up so damn early and I'm currently a bit bored I've been
trekking through blogville to see what I can see.
I like this site.
I don't know why I like it. All I do know is I've spent the last few minutes
reading it and, ding ding, I like it. Too bad the side-bar links are so
freakin' small. I try to resize them and the site breaks. Oh well, still a good
looking web site.
Heh, if this guy ain't
full of piss and vinegar than I don't know who is:
Ya know, it is really hard to completely despise comment spammers* when such
are the only comments your seem to be gettin' on a regular basis. Still, I
ain't workin' hard to produce the finest blog in the blogosphere so as to
advertise places to buy certified used fuckin' trucks the fuckin' crap you are
sellin', so go to Hell, asshole.
This American living in
Madrid has some interesting insights.
This guy is about as far
opposite of my ideological approach as can be. In fact I read his sight and
think, "what a knuckle head", but that's okay. I like reading those of a
different point of view. Nothing wrong with different.
I wonder when we are going to fully realize that the war on terrorism is for
real and that it is a matter of life and death? People need to realize that
civilization may as well put a bullet in its head if you can't get on a train
to go to work out of fear that you will become a victim of terrorism. After
yesterday's demonstrations in which millions of Spaniards denounced
terrorism it looks like Spain
now understands.
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Thu Mar 11, 2004
Get Fully Informed
John Venlet
points us to Jurorsrule.com, a website dedicated to informing 1,000,000
citizens about their rights and obligations as jurors. The website is an Eagle
Scout project.
The fully informed jury is the biggest and most powerful law enforcement
agency in the United States. It has "absolute, non-neogtiable power to ignore
laws, keep people out of prison, ignore judges and prosecutors, make any jury
trial come out the way they want, and make our government honest".
John Venlet thinks we should direct as much traffic as possible. I
agree.
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Also . . .
it should be pointed out that not all are blaming the ETA or Basque Separatists:
A top Basque politician, Arnold Otegi, denied the separatists were behind
the blasts and blamed "Arab resistance." Many al-Qaida-linked terrorists were
captured in Spain or were believed to have operated from there.
We'll wait and see.
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An Update And Unslanting The Slanted News
As expected the Madrid body count goes up:
MADRID (Reuters) - Basque separatists killed 173 people in simultaneous
blasts that ripped through packed Madrid trains in the guerrilla group's
bloodiest attack in more than three decades, Spain said on Thursday.
There was no immediate claim of responsibility for the attacks across the
Spanish capital three days before a national election, but Spain insisted the
Basque separatist group ETA was to blame.
On a somewhat unrelated matter I'm bringing you back to this
post from yesterday where I talked about how political correctness is used
to supersede the truth. The above Reuters report that I link to is an almost
perfect example of such craziness.
The attacks in Madrid are, in every sense of the word, terrorism
carried out by terrorists yet Reuters insists on referring to the
terrorists as separatists and guerrillas.
Terrorism:
The systematic use of violence as a means to intimidate or coerce societies
or governments.
Terrorist:
One that engages in acts or an act of terrorism
Separatist:
An advocate of secession or separation from a larger group (such as an
established church or a national union)
Guerrilla:
A member of an irregular armed force that fights a stronger force by
sabotage and harassment
Granted, many in the Basqueland certainly entertain notions of separatism
but the ETA is a terrorist group bent on acts of terrorism not guerrilla
warfare as train loads of innocent morning commuters can hardly be considered a
superior military force.
Note to Reuters: Bite me.
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Rush Hour Explosions In Madrid
Madrid has just been smacked hard by a, seemingly, well coordinated
terrorist attack.
MADRID, March 11 (Xinhuanet) -- More than 60 were killed and many others
injured in four deadly train explosions during rush hour on Thursday morning in
central Madrid.
This sucks to the tenth power.
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Wed Mar 10, 2004
Spare Me Please
As a society we are painting ourselves tighter and tighter into a corner
called PC. Diane Ravitch talks about Forbidden words and the ridiculous "education" guidelines that
forbid them.
A textbook writer sent me the guidelines used by the Harcourt/Steck/Vaughn
company to remove photographs that might give offense. Editors must delete, the
guidelines said, pictures of women with big hair or sleeveless blouses and men
with dreadlocks or medallions. Photographs must not portray the soles of shoes
or anyone eating with the left hand (both in deference to Muslim culture). To
avoid giving offense to those who cannot afford a home computer, no one may be
shown owning a home computer. To avoid offending those with strong but
differing religious views, decorations for religious holidays must never appear
in the background.
On the surface much of this seems almost comedic but as you delve further
into this trend it takes on a bit more ominous tone in that it begins to shape
cultural literacy into something that it wasn't or is not.
A college professor informed me that a new textbook in human development
includes the following statement: "As a folksinger once sang, how many roads
must an individual walk down before you can call them an adult." The professor
was stupefied that someone had made the line gender-neutral and ungrammatical
by rewriting Bob Dylan's folk song "Blowin' in the Wind," which had simply
asked: "How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?"
Think about it, if this keeps up our children will have a completely
skewered notion of what and where they came from. The past will mean nothing
because it will all be a big lie based on the idea of political correctness
above anything else. Can you imagine this nation being founded and built upon
such vacuous notions? In short it couldn't have been which makes one think that
all might not bode well for the future.
The state of New York, as Ravitch points out, is the poster child for
culturally debilitating political correctness.
So here is how New York made itself an international joke. The state's
guidelines to language sensitivity, citing Rosalie Maggio's "The Bias-Free
Wordfinder," says: "We may not always understand why a certain word hurts. We
don't have to. It is enough that someone says, 'That language doesn't respect
me.' " That is, if any word or phrase is likely to give anyone offense, no
matter how far-fetched, it should be deleted.
Next the state asked: "Is it necessary to make reference to a person's age,
ancestry, disability, ethnicity, nationality, physical appearance, race,
religion, sex, sexuality?" Since the answer is frequently no, nearly all
references to such characteristics are eliminated. Because these matters loom
large in history and literature--and because they help us to understand
character, life circumstances and motives--their silent removal is bound to
weaken or obliterate the reader's understanding.
In fact it has become so ridiculous that when I read something like
this:
Meanwhile, the word "elderly" should be replaced by "older adult" or "older
person," if it is absolutely necessary to mention age at all. "Gentleman's
agreement" must be dropped in favor of an "informal agreement." "Ghetto" should
be avoided; instead describe the social and economic circumstances of the
neighborhood. "Grandfather clause" is helplessly sexist; "retroactive coverage"
is preferred instead. The term "illegal alien" must be replaced by
"undocumented worker."
I have to wonder if the motivation is less about the preservation of some
one's feelings and more about, simply, the exercise of power, of simply tearing
down society in any way that one sees fit.
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Mon Mar 08, 2004
It All Ties In
For those who continue to toe your party line yet more proof that it doesn't matter.
US senators' personal stock portfolios outperformed the market by an average
of 12 per cent a year in the five years to 1998, according to a new study.
"The results clearly support the notion that members of the Senate trade
with a substantial informational advantage over ordinary investors," says the
author of the report, Professor Alan Ziobrowski of the Robinson College of
Business at Georgia State University.
He admits to being "very surprised" by his findings, which were based on
6,000 financial disclosure filings and are due to be published in the Journal
of Financial and Quantitative Analysis.
Are you surprised by this? I know I'm not.
Oh, and here is why your party affiliation simply does not matter:
There was no difference in performance between Democrats and
Republicans.
Now that they are finished with Martha I wonder when they will begin
investigating these schmucks . . .holding your breath?
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Martha The Sacrificial Lamb
Now that Martha Stewart has been found guilty I've finally found
the inspiration to make a comment about the whole mess.
There is no doubt that Martha is guilty. Say what you want it doesn't matter
because she's guilty. That being said I think it is insidious that she's facing
prison time.
I tend to think that she is being made the example not to those who'd break
the law and partake in insider trading but to those lowly commoners who dare
think they can compete on the same level as the big boys. There is no
way you can tell me that insider tactics aren't used by most if not all the
big investors and still maintain any kind of integrity. The whole stock market
game is exclusionary in favor of those who are mega-wealthy. No, I'm not
talking Martha Stewart wealthy, I'm talking the kind of wealth where one can
afford to pump out a minimum of $500,000 for an IPO that everyone knows will
see a substantial profit in 24 hours on a daily basis.
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Thu Mar 04, 2004
Whack!
Wow, nothing like opening up the ‘ol Lobowalk mailbox and getting hit up side the head with a huge nostalgia stick.
Thanks, Sue and Barbara. Wow.
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Lev Landau's Legacy Beyond Theoretical Physics
Even if you're not familiar with renowned Soviet theoretical physicist Lev
Landau you would be doing yourself a favor to read this
endearing, often times poignant, excerpt from the memoir of his niece, Ella
Ryndina.
My earliest memories of Dau (as Landau was known to those close to him) date
back to 1937, when I was four years old. Into the quiet and calm of our home
burst, unexpectedly, a strange kind of person. He brought an atmosphere of
bustle, festivity, noisy and lengthy arguments, excitement, and shouting. Mom
said that this was my Uncle Lyova [his familiar name], her brother, and that he
had just arrived in Leningrad. He was very tall (especially from my
four-year-old's perspective), very thin, very disheveled, and very lively. He
couldn't stay in one spot for a second; he kept measuring our modest-sized room
with his long legs, running back and forth. Not knowing what to talk to me
about, he bent down, stuck his cold fingers in the scruff of my neck,
cheerfully called me "chick," and continued running around the room.
Although the extent of Lev Landau's contribution to Soviet theoretical
physics, most notably his contributions to their atomic bomb project, can never
be over-stated he had an almost innate subversive nature that put him in the
crosshairs, so to speak, of government authorities.
Dau's quick visits to Leningrad always brought joyful excitement to my
family, and sometimes he took us all to a restaurant. Whenever Dau visited, Mom
would ask him to recite poems. He would oblige willingly, without being coy or
making any excuses. He recited in a loud singsong yet somewhat monotonous
voice, as if intoxicated by the music of the poem.
And so he would begin to recite Nicolai Gumilyov, and the first stanzas of
the poem "Gondla" would boom around the room:
The wedding cup has been drained dry,
The nuptial banquet devoured,
Why then do you sit, morose,
At the ceremonial feast of kings?
His recitation caused chills to run up and down my spine--the effect was
extraordinarily powerful and breathtaking. One knew little about Gumilyov
during the Soviet era. He had been executed in 1921 and was a forbidden poet,
but Dau knew a lot of his poems by heart.
Later, Lev would pay a price for his subversive proclivities with his arrest
and subsequent jailing for his part in the distribution of this caustically
anti-Stalin leaflet.
"WORKERS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!"
Comrades!
The great cause of the October Revolution is being despicably betrayed. The
country is inundated with torrents of blood and filth. Millions of innocent
people are being thrown into prisons and no-one can tell when his own turn will
come.
It is clear, comrades, that the Stalinist clique has carried out a fascist
coup. Socialism has remained only on the pages of the habitually lying
newspapers. In his rabid hatred of genuine socialism, Stalin is not different
from Hitler and Mussolini. Destroying the country for the sake of his own
power, Stalin is turning it into an easy prey for the brutal German
fascism.
The only way out for the working class and for all the toilers of our
country is a struggle against Stalinist and Hitlerist fascism, a struggle for
socialism.
Comrades, get organized! Don't fear the NKVD [secret police] butchers! They
are capable only of slaughtering defenseless prisoners, of catching
unsuspecting innocents, of plundering national property, and of concocting
absurd court trials for nonexistent plots. . . .
From this it is apparent that he was an ardent supporter of
Communist/Socialist ideals, just not Stalin's brand. Ella's response to this is
somewhat interesting in her reference to her uncle's naïve faith in
socialism.
After Lev's release from prison he began to take a strong position in Ella's
education, becoming her mentor in all things intellectual and personal,
including her love life. Particularly amusing was his approach to love and the
advice he attempted to pass on to her.
As to issues concerning love, marriage, and children, Dau started to
"educate" me when I was still a young girl. He preached to me his theory that
one should acquire a lover at the age of 19 and get married to the third lover.
How he could assert all that with such precision, I don't know. I would blush,
turn pale, plug my ears, and run away from him. But nothing could stop him.
When I turned 19, he tormented me to such an extent that I found it necessary
to invent a nonexistent lover so that finally he would let go of me. Today I
understand that my conversations and arguments with him emancipated me, peeled
off my girlish timidity and inhibitions.
The most important, however, was his political education of his beloved
niece. Not so much as his political views as his willingness to speak out for
what he believed, even if it were dangerous. Ella sums up his influence
with:
The educational conversations with Dau turned me into a new person; I began
to look at many things differently, with open eyes.
Keep in mind that this was Stalinist Soviet Union.
It is amazing how far reaching one person's influence can be on another and,
consequently, the world around them. I see in Lev Landau not only the great
physicist he was, but also an uncle who touched and changed the life of his
niece. He changed her life. No matter what he did or what
accomplishments he gained, his most grand accomplishment was that of the effect
he had on the life of his niece, Ella.
Link is via Arts &
Letters Daily.
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Trying To Make News Out Of Nothing
Man, I have a late night last night, didn't get home until 4:00 this
morning. I don't need to read bullshit whining like this first thing in the morning.
WASHINGTON - Relatives of victims of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks
and a firefighters union said Thursday they're angry that President Bush (news
- web sites)'s new campaign ads include images of the destroyed World Trade
Center and firefighters carrying a flag-draped stretcher through the
rubble.
"It makes me sick," Colleen Kelly, who lost her brother Bill Kelly Jr., in
the attacks and leads a victims families group called Peaceful Tomorrows, said
Thursday. "Would you ever go to someone's grave site and use that as an
instrument of politics? That truly is what Ground Zero represents to me."
Harold Schaitberger, president of the International Association of Fire
Fighters, on Thursday called the ads disgraceful and said they should be
pulled.
"We're not going to stand for him to put his arm around one of our members
on top of a pile of rubble at Ground Zero during a tragedy and then stand by
and watch him cut money for first responders," Schaitberger said. He said his
union is politically independent even though it endorsed Kerry and has donated
money to Republicans.
Barbara Minervino, a Republican from Middletown, N.J., who lost her husband,
Louis, in the attacks, questioned whether Bush was "capitalizing on the
event."
Bla, bla, bla, freaking bla . . . Oh shut up. Anyone who sees this as some
kind of assault on the sanctity of 9/11 is either blatantly stupid or blatantly
disingenuous. The fact is that 9/11 was the most devastating act of war to ever
be carried out against U.S. citizens on U.S. soil. G.W. Bush, love him or hate
him, was the president during this attack, not Al Gore or John Kerry; thank
your lucky stars. It was the seminal moment in G.W. Bush's presidency if
not the current and next couple of generations. I think the fact that idiots
like these whining fools need reminding of this is far more disgusting than the
ads.
The inanity ends with this:
"Until Bush cooperates with the federal commission that is investigating the
nation's preparedness before the attacks and its response by testifying in
public under oath ... he should not be using 9/11 as political propaganda,"
said Kristen Breitweiser, of Middletown Township, N.J., whose husband, Ronald
Breitweiser, 39, died in the World Trade Center.
"Three thousand people were murdered on President Bush's watch," Breitweiser
said. "He has not cooperated with the investigation to find out why that
happened."
Rather than insinuating that Bush was somehow responsible perhaps you should
consider the fact that there have been no attacks on American soil since
9/11; all under Bushe's watch.
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Wed Mar 03, 2004
Rapunzel; The Rest Of The Story
Everyday before his nap time I try to do some reading to my son. Today we finally made it through Rapunzel before he lost interest.
You know Rapunzel; the story where the wicked Witch forces her neighbors to give up their newborn daughter to her after she caught the father absconding with her rapunzel in an effort to satisfy his over-demanding wife and then named the child, Rapunzel, in an apparent effort to express some sort of irony. When Rapunzel reached the age of twelve the Witch locked her up in a tower where she would visit her daily via access made possible by Rapunzel’s long hair.
Later in life, presumably in her late teens, Rapunzel hooks up with a Prince after he becomes infatuated with Rapunzel’s singing as he walked through the forest doing princely things. After some time of him climbing into the tower and he and Rapunzel doing God knows what every night, the Witch finds out, cuts Rapunzel’s hair, banishes her to a desert and throws the Prince out of the tower where he is rendered blind by some thorny bushes that should have been cut back a long time ago.
The Prince spends several years wandering around in a blind stupor until he chances upon Rapunzel who, with joy, sheds tears that spill upon the good Prince’s eyes thus giving him his sight back. They then marry, move to the castle and live happily ever after.
Do you think I’m going to leave this story so woefully unfinished for my son? Hell no. Here’s the rest of the story.
See, after they moved to the castle the prince, having his vision restored, knew it was time to kick some Witch ass. He knew that the only reason she got the drop on him was because he was so freaked out at the loss of his babe. So the prince told Rapunzel to hang tight and off he went.
He found the old hag in her garden tending to her stupid rapunzel and was enraged by the, now apparent, irony and commenced to kicking her ass in a proper way. He then snapped her neck and buried her in her damn garden. The neighbors, wanting to see what all the commotion was about peaked over the fence, “What the hell’s going on?”
The Prince replied, “I snuffed this bitch because she kept this chick locked in a tower, put my eyes out years ago and then abandoned the chick to the desert. Luckily for me I found the chick some years later, got my eyes back, we got married and live in a nice house up on the hill. I just had some unsettled business to take care of before I could truly live happily ever after.”
The neighbors were truly stunned and the woman, now elderly, asked, “Say, does this chick happen to be in her late twenties, blonde hair?”
The Prince scratched his head, “Yeah, quite a looker too.”
Realizing that their long lost daughter and the looker were one and the same, the neighbors told them the whole story. The prince invited them to come live with him and Rapunzel in the castle so they loaded up their wagon and off they went. Upon arrival, Rapunzel was elated to know that the bitch Witch was not only dead but not her real mother and that these kind folks her hubby dragged home were, in fact her real parents.
After a few years of family therapy, Rapnuzel and the Prince proceeded to knock out a passel of babies and the whole damn family lived happily ever after.
Now if only Rapunzel could keep the Prince’s eyes off that damn mermaid who insists on flopping around in the water with her breasts exposed.
The end.
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Tue Mar 02, 2004
Gourmand's Delight
In the twenty months since our son was born Anna and I have not been out on
a date let alone a dinner date. So when we were invited to a culinary event by
my good friend Tom and his brother, Chef Jerry Garcia (yes, that's his real
name) which took place at one of Park City's finer eateries of which they are
co-proprietors, my wife was absolutely delighted.
The draw of this event was that it featured Robert Sinskey of Robert Sinskey
Vineyards and his wife, Maria Helm Sinskey, author of The Vineyard Kitchen : Menus Inspired by the Seasons. Chef
Jerry Garcia prepared dishes from Maria's book along with wine pairings from
Robert Sinskey Vineyards. This was a real gourmand's delight.
One thing that I've realized to be an axiom is that if you surround yourself
with good people drinking good wine and eating good food you will soon find
yourself enjoying good conversation. Such was the case last night at our table
which found Paul and Linda, a retired couple from Cincinnati to my right,
followed by Maria and Robert, Tom's wife, Holly, Eric, a chef from another
local eatery, and finally making the full circle, my wife, Anna to my left. I
remember thinking to myself that the only missing element would have been the
presence of renowned gourmand and American literary treasure, Jim Harrison. In
fact I found myself entertaining the notion of gouging one eye out with a fork,
quickly putting on a hundred pounds or so, and affecting a limp in an attempt
at a pale comparison. I quickly abandoned the notion however, opting, instead,
for another spoonful of Parsnip Soup with Crispy Parsnip Chips and Spiced
Crème Fraiche followed by a sip of Robert Sinskey's Three Amigos
Chardonnay; quite possibly the most remarkable pairing of the evening.
Much of the conversation was, invariably, about wine and food within which
Mr. Sinskey espoused his philosophy that wine making should not be treated as
an athletic event which seems to be the case with many aspects of the current
rating/point system used to grade wines which emphasizes boldness and power at
the expense of elegance and nuance. His view is that the wine making process and
the wines themselves are much too complex and relative to the food and the
conditions under which they are consumed to be relegated to so simplistic of an
approach. Granted, I'm no wine connoisseur but I did find myself embracing his
philosophy so much as I understand it. Besides, I've always been a sucker for
the Zen approach.
Soon we found ourselves enjoying the Grilled Hanger Steak with Lemon and
Arugula paired with Robert Sinskey's Los Carneros Merlot. We followed this up
with Fig Spice Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting and a cup of coffee; an
excellent way to cap such an evening.
Good job, Tom. Good job, Jerry and a good job to Robert Sinskey and his
lovely wife, Maria. Thank you all for an absolutely wonderful evening.
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Mon Mar 01, 2004
More California Dreaming
The California legal/political system is capable of many things not least of
which is the ability to not make sense. This is a perfect example of what I'm talking about:
SAN FRANCISCO (Reuters) - The California Supreme Court ruled on Monday that
a Catholic charity must offer prescription contraceptives in its employee
health insurance plan even if church teaching opposes birth control
measures.
However:
The charity could avoid any conflict with religious values by not offering
its employees prescription drug coverage, the justices held. Employers in
California are not required to offer such coverage.
One has to wonder, if employers in California are not required to
provide prescription coverage, why should the courts, most notably, the
California Supreme Court, care? On its face this seems to have more to do with
religion, or a disdain of it, than anything else.
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February Search Phrase Roundup
We’ve finally arrived at one of my favorite, quickly becoming Lobowalk traditions, events; the monthly search phrase roundup. It should come as no surprise that the number one search phrase used to get to my site for the month of February was janets tit followed by janets tit shot and just about every variation of anything that might have anything to do with the Super Bowl Halftime Boobygate. It’s all very expected I suppose.
As I go down the list I see the other usual fare; daniel medley, lobowalk etc.
Of course no monthly search phrase roundup would be complete without the head scratchers, sicko’s , and emotional drek of the world; those responsible for horse ass dog pain stories dog barn bounded, shirt in her panties waistband, small penis club (small penis club? You mean we have a club?), and dumb slut using my wife her pussy. Does your wife present a full use and disclosure clause with that?
Of course, as in previous months, I see catheter punishment rearing its ugly head once again. I’m wondering, is catheter porn a popular subject for greasy foreheaded, crusty crotched, mango haired disgusting schmucks who leave used tissues in empty pizza boxes next to their computers? Or is this just one or two people who are in to this shit? For the person who comes to this site looking for pornography of the catheter variety; could you please leave a comment and tell us all just what it is about such endeavors that seem to wake your wank? Then, when you’ve done that, check yourself into the nearest mental institution.
I also see blogville provo girl beer, damn fine microbrew beer I might add, and various phrases connected to literary summaries of various books; Catcher In The Rye, Call Of The Wild, The Moore’s Last Sigh, etc.
Okay, that does if for this month. One can only wait in wonder at what this month will bring.
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Chavez Calls Bush Asshole
Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez displayed his verbal diplomatic skills today:
Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez called US President George W. Bush an
"asshole" today and told him not to meddle as his opponents battled troops
ahead of a ruling on a recall vote against him.
Am not! Are too! Am not! Are too!!!
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What Would We Do Without Movie Critics?
I have not seen The Passion and I won't see it until it comes out on
dvd. Because of this I don't have an opinion about the film at all except to
say that the people I've talked to who have seen it strongly deny its
alleged anti-Semitism.
This reviewer who gave the film one star is catching some
grief which is unfortunate:
I knew the reaction would be hostile - movie critics routinely get hate
mail, even one time for a review of "Bambi."
But, as they would say in an action movie of the kind Mel Gibson formerly
made, this time, it's personal.
Like I said, unfortunate, but she certainly doesn't help her cause with
this:
What interests me as a movie critic is the profusion of people who do not
understand or care how to evaluate a movie.
They don't see how film images are juxtaposed to create a desired emotion,
that what is left out of a screenplay can be as important as what is kept in,
and how constantly and subliminally manipulative a medium this is. They cannot
see through filmmaking's beautiful deceptions.
So I'm guessing that the masses are just too ignorant to decide if they like
a movie or not.
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