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Steve Gilliard, 1964-2007

It is with tremendous sadness that we must convey the news that Steve Gilliard, editor and publisher of The News Blog, passed away June 2, 2007. He was 42.

To those who have come to trust The News Blog and its insightful, brash and unapologetic editorial tone, we have Steve to thank from the bottom of our hearts. Steve helped lead many discussions that mattered to all of us, and he tackled subjects and interest categories where others feared to tread.

Please keep Steve's friends and family in your thoughts and prayers.

Steve meant so much to us.

We will miss him terribly.

photo by lindsay beyerstein

 

AC360: Even Stopped Clocks are Right Twice a Day




Just like the headline says, even a stopped clock - or in this case, Middle East Warmonger with Big Vocabulary Chris Hitchens - can be right at least twice a day.

And he nails it on Falwell.

- posted by Jim in LA

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driftglass: "Ubik"

Ubik

is


Reagan.

“Jump in the urinal
And stand on your head.
I’m the one that’s alive.
You’re all dead.”
-- Doggerel/quote from “Ubik” by Phillip K. Dick, and also the vibe that came reeking unmistakably off of the Great GOP Reagan Salad Toss last night.


Nope, didn’t see it. Saw the clips, skimmed the transcript, so in case you were all twitchy/curious about the GOP debate, others have already parsed it thoroughly, from various facets and points-of-view.

The penile…(HuffPo)

The British Isle (The BBC)

Absinthial…(via Peggy "The Cetacean Whisperer" Noonan:)
"They stood earnestly in a row, combed, primped and prepped, as Nancy Reagan gazed up at them with courteous interest.

"But behind the hopeful candidates, a dwarfing shadow loomed, a shadow almost palpable in its power to remind Republicans of the days when men were men and the party was united. His power is only increased by his absence. But enough about Fred Thompson."


Antediluvial…
"Three of the candidates indicated that they did not believe in it.

None is a front-runner but even so there will be American scientists who will feel deeply depressed that serious politicians in 2007 can be disputing the entire thrust of modern knowledge about how the world was formed and how it, well, evolved. "



Ductile… (Adj. “Easily led or influenced: capable of being fashioned into a new form:.)

From the transcript:
(“ Starting with you, Governor, would the day that Roe v. Wade is repealed be a good day for America.

Romney: Absolutely.

Moderator: Senator?

Brownback (?): It would be a glorious day of human liberty and freedom.

Moderator: Governor?

Gilmore (?): Yes, it was wrongly decided.

Moderator: Governor?

Huckabee (?): Most certainly.

Moderator: Congressman?

Hunter (?): Yes.

Moderator: Governor?

(Unknown): Yes.”


There was excrementitial (every time Tancredo opened his hole) and funebrial (”Dubya Who?”)

Gubernatorial…
Sen. Sam Brownback, R-Kan.
Former Gov. James Gilmore, R-Va.
Former Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, R-N.Y.C.
Former Gov. Mike Huckabee, R- Ark.
Rep. Duncan Hunter, R-Calif.
Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz.
Rep. Ron Paul, R-Texas
Former Gov. Mitt Romney, R- Mass.
Rep. Tom Tancredo, R-Col.
Former Gov. Tommy Thompson, R-Wis. .


Ventriloquial…(From every silken pocket of St. Ronny’s burial jammies came tiny, squeaky voices thrown from the platform yipping ‘No, I’m Reagan!’)

And, of course, puerile…(HuffPo again)

And yet curiously, no one chose the obvious: A science fiction overview.

So here you go.

Once upon a time there was a writer named Phillip K. Dick. Or you might know him as Horselover Fat. Anyway, he wrote lots of fine novels, many thousands of which seem to have been made into movies, which is kind of a pity, since he hacked around at the margins of success his whole life and only got rich after he shuffled off his mortal coil.

There is a lesson in there somewhere probably.

He also wrote a nifty short story called “Faith of Our Fathers” about an alien invader and/or God that passes itself off as a Mao-like dictator by saturating the food and water with hallucinogens and keeping everybody doped to the retinas every minute of every day. It was a memory collision of that story with Ubik that led to the graphic above.

Anyway, “Ubik” is one of his novels which involves a very unusual future (Or is it the present? Or the past?) dominated by some kind of aggressive entropy on steroids...and a consumer product called “Ubik’. Which can be anything. Cigarettes. Peaches. Cars. Dessert topping. Floor wax. Pomade. Liver pills. Anything.

Here may or may not be some of the advertisements for Ubik lifted from various sites:
"Friends, this is clean-up time, and we're discounting all our silent electric Ubiks by this much money. Yes, we're throwing away the bluebook. And remember: every Ubik on our lot has been used only as directed."

"Wake up to a hearty, lip-smacking bowlful of nutritious Ubik toasted flakes, the adult cereal that's more crunchy, more tasty, more ummish. Ubik breakfast cereal, the whole-bowl taste treat! Do not exceed recommended portion at any one meal."

"If money worries have you in the cellar, go visit the lady at Ubik Savings and Loan. She'll take the frets out of your debts. Suppose, for instance, you borrow fifty-nine postcreds on an interest-only loan. Let's see, that adds up to- "

“And remember: every Ubik in our lot has been used only as directed.”

“The best way to ask for beer is to sing out Ubik.”

“Your husband will say, Christ, Sally, I used to think your coffee was only so-so. But now, wow! Safe when taken as directed.”

“Remember: Ubik is only seconds away. Avoid prolonged use.”

“So try Ubik. And be loved. Warning: use only as directed. And with caution.”

“If money worries have you in the cellar, go visit the lady at Ubik Savings and Loan.”


And all the while, our protagonist -- the very confused Joe Chip -- desperately tries to figure out what in the Hell is going on.

Like the GOP, he does not know for sure what is real anymore and what is not...




[[SPOILER ALERT. Advance no further if you want to remain blissful virginal regarding certain Exciting!Plot!Points of the novel. SPOILER ALERT]]




Why are the people and things he knows aging, dying and putrefying around him at phenomenal speed?

Is it some ravaging disease?

Or is everything around him devolving through time? Is something flinging him backwards towards 1939 like a stone skipping across a pond?

Or is he trapped in a cryonic mausoleum in his own time with other half-deads just like him. Sealed into his own mind and hoving between this world and the grave while his life force is gobbled up by something unseen and unstoppable.

The cues he gets via every mass media outlet he sees, reads or hears seem to be directed at him personally, but the messages are deformed and cryptic. All he gets are the ads, and comes to understand that it is only the proper and continuous application of the omniproduct -- “Ubik” (use as directed) -- that is keeping his reality propped up.

Only Ubik keeps terrifying forces beyond his reach and comprehension safely at bay.

Joe never quite truly learns what Ubik is; only that it is the salvation of his reality, and is being offered you today only for the Low!Low! Price of...
“So if looming political annihilation and the end of your theocrat sprint towards Democracy’s end-zone is giving you the collywobbles, remember there is nothing as full of electorally refreshing, memory-wiping, pig-people-pleasing, Elmer Gantrifying, hyperpatriot yumminess as good ol’ fashioned American-made Ubik.

“Remember, Ubik/11/2001 changed everything, and you are either with Ubik or with the terrorists”*
*(Prolonged use may cause gastric distress, uncontrollable anal leakage and fascism.)

- posted by driftglass

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DT Cooper: "NRO - Bill Buckley - Traitor?"



Indeed

The Waning of the GOP

By William F. Buckley Jr.

The political problem of the Bush administration is grave, possibly beyond the point of rescue. The opinion polls are savagely decisive on the Iraq question. About 60 percent of Americans wish the war ended — wish at least a timetable for orderly withdrawal. What is going on in Congress is in the nature of accompaniment. The vote in Congress is simply another salient in the war against war in Iraq. Republican forces, with a couple of exceptions, held fast against the Democrats’ attempt to force Bush out of Iraq even if it required fiddling with the Constitution. President Bush will of course veto the bill, but its impact is critically important in the consolidation of public opinion. It can now accurately be said that the legislature, which writes the people’s laws, opposes the war.

...

But beyond affirming executive supremacy in matters of war, what is George Bush going to do? It is simply untrue that we are making decisive progress in Iraq. The indicators rise and fall from day to day, week to week, month to month. In South Vietnam there was an organized enemy. There is clearly organization in the strikes by the terrorists against our forces and against the civil government in Iraq, but whereas in Vietnam we had Hanoi as the operative headquarters of the enemy, we have no equivalent of that in Iraq, and that is a matter of paralyzing importance. All those bombings, explosions, assassinations: we are driven to believe that they are, so to speak, spontaneous.


- posted by DT Cooper

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Uncommon Sense: "Man arrested for threatening to Kill Hillary"

This news item from Uncommon Sense


A Shreveport man was arrested for threatening to kill Sen. Hillary Clinton, who is scheduled to be in Baton Rouge to address the National Conference of Black Mayors.

Richard Ryan Wargo, 10301 Evangeline, Shreveport, was booked into Parish Prison on counts of terrorizing, communicating false information of planned arson, simple possession of marijuana and possession of drug paraphernalia.

State District Judge Mike Erwin set the $1 million bond Thursday.

[...]

The warrant says a classmate of Wargo?s told an LSU police officer the two students were talking when Wargo made the threat.

Wargo told the other student that he was interested in committing an act of terrorism, and that it would be a "national event," the warrant says. He asked if the other student was interested in participating, the warrant says.

When asked if the act of terrorism was politically motivated, Wargo nodded his head, and said, ?Hillary Clinton,? the warrant says.


- posted by Uncommon Sense

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Jesse "Doc" Wendel: "Abraham, Martin and John"



No Black Men Allowed in the Big House

Breaking news -- The US Secret Service has been ordered to give protection to presidential candidate Barack Obama, by the Director of Homeland Security Michael Chertoff, after consulting with Congress. No details of Obama's protection, or of the deliberations leading to the decision will be released. (This is normal for any Secret Service protection.)

According to their website, the US Secret Service normally provides protection of major presidential and vice-presidential candidates, and their spouses, within 120 days of a general presidential election.

In the words of Sesame Street's Cookie Monster, One of these things is not like the other things. One of these things just doesn't belong. Can you guess which thing is not like the other thing, before I finish my song...



Gee children, how many of you can guess how Senator Barack Obama is not like all the other presidential candidates?

One of my earliest memories is my mother crying They've killed him, they've killed him, the day President Kennedy was shot, and all the women in our long block/cul-de-sac weeping on each other, the father's being as stoic as they could, us children only understanding something terrible had happened.

I was older when Reverend King was murdered and then months later when Bobby Kennedy was killed as well. I remember in both cases how I lost part of my heart. Years, many years later, in my twenties (the 1980's), I volunteered at self-help courses held in the old Ambassador Hotel in LA, and as I took breaks in the kitchen, sometimes I'd just stop and think, Here. He died right here.

People are threatened by the idea of a woman president. You and I don't get the threat part of Hillary's race, because she's, well, Hillary, and she's lived under the bubble since roughly 120 days before President Clinton was elected, way, way, way long ago. That half of the United States can't stand her, and 30% of the US hates her breathing guts... well, we don't think about it. That some people would almost rather die than see a woman elected; we don't think about that either. Her Secret Service protection is rock solid and knows how to protect the Clintons. A presidential campaign is one more day at the office for them and it's Hillary, so we don't think about it.

Obama... now, that's a horse of a different color. Pun intended. If there's one gut emotion even more triggering, even more dangerous to that part of the US than a woman president, it's a black president. Unless Obama announces he is not only black, but gay, there isn't anything he can do to be more of a emotional threat to the part of those people which is the non-thinking emotional knee-jerk racist response they learned in childhood at their daddy and mommy's kitchen table. And nothing is going to change that except them growing older. It's a demographics issue and we're winning, but that doesn't help right now.

So...

For the people who wonder why Affirmative Action. For the people who wonder why Busing. For the people who wonder why projects targeted to help people in the inner cities, and genuine welfare, and all the programs of the federal government for the poorest among us, many of whom are African-American...

Just please notice that the simple act of a black man running legitimately for President of the United States is enough to bring enough bullshit, enough hatred, enough credible threats, so much goddamn heat down that Congress asked Homeland Security who ordered the US Secret Service to provide protection to the candidate over one and a half years before the election. Not 120 days -- 1.5 years.

This is how scared some fools are of a black man sitting behind the desk in the big house.

I don't know whom I'm voting for yet, but I tell you what. Obama's got serious stones. Go baby go. Make those mother-fuckers eat their hatred. Make them eat it raw.

Obama placed under Secret Service protection
Raw Story
Published: Thursday May 3, 2007
The US Secret Service will provide a security detail for Sen. Barack Obama (D-IL) as he continues his presidential campaign, the Department of Homeland Security announced today.

Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff authorized the security detail after consulting with Congress, CNN reported today. No further details about Obama's protection were announced.

It is unclear whether any specific threats against the senator led to the Secret Service protection. The Secret Service commonly provides security details assigned to high-profile presidential candidates.

Obama's campaign clashed earlier this year with a self-described pedophile who posted pictures of Obama's daughter online. The Smoking Gun published a letter from Obama's attorney to the man, Lindsay Ashford, demanding the pictures be removed, as RAW STORY reported previously.

Text of Secret Service statement follows:

#

Secretary Chertoff has, after consultation with the congressional advisory committee, authorized the United States Secret Service, to protect presidential candidate Senate Barack Obama.

As a matter of procedure, we will not release any details of the deliberations or assessments that led to protection being initiated. For security reasons we will not release the timing, scope or details of any protective operations.

#


- Posted by Jesse "Doc" Wendel

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Codpiece Day






Given Jeff Gannon, Rove, Mark what's his name (Foley), all that bald-man-head-rubbing, is this photo really a surprise anymore?

What gets me is how all the uptight wingnuts still dig this image. It may be their only remaining touchstone to the past, as it were.

- posted by Jim in LA

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driftglass: "The Aristocrats"



Thanks to driftglass for this wonderful piece

If you are unfamiliar with the Dirtiest Joke in the World, here’s a little primer.

It’s a gorgeous day here in my city and I’m going to pack up my laptop and find a lovely place to eat. So in lieu of a Sunday sermon, here’s my version:

The Republican Party walks into the American people’s living rooms, and says, "We're the Family Value’s Party, and we'd like to represent you."

The American People say, "Sorry, but we’re a little leery of Family Values parties. They tend to be scams run by demagogues.”

Republican Party says, "But this is really special."

The American People says, "Okay, well what's the act?"

The Republican Party replies, "Well after the worst attack on American soil in history, we hijack the nation's grief and rage to plunge us into a war with entirely the wrong country.

“Then we let the actual terrorist responsible for the attack to sit in a comfy chair on the edge of the stage and laugh and laugh and laugh for the duration of the performance.

“The Mainstream Press then comes out, bends over and we take them violently and repeatedly from behind by jamming giant lies up their poop chutes, which come spurting out of their mouths the next day as 'authoritative reporting'. Then we cite our own regurgitated lies as independent ‘proof’ that we're right.

“Meanwhile Fox News and Hate Radio will peel the flesh from the fallen soldiers (whose flag-draped coffins are to be kept strictly hidden during the entire act. Out of, y’know, respect), wrap themselves in their skin, the Flag and the Bible and spend the rest of the act as a kind of Rich White Greek Chorus, screaming that anyone who is not in the act is a traitor.

“They will also hypnotically repeat ‘9/11/Iraq/Saddam Hussein/Osama bin Laden’ over and over and over again until any distinctions between them become magically invisible.

“We then wheel a brain-dead body on the stage named Terri Schiavo, and proceed to use it to defile both the institution of marriage and the sanctity of life…in the name of the Jesus. And then the President himself will interrupt one of his many vacations to make a special guest appearance and sign a special law to do this.

“Our ‘maverick’ candidates then come out, set fire to their remaining principles, and slither though their own shit to kiss Jerry Falwell’s pasty, pestilent ass.

“Then a kick-line of severely wounded veterans of our illegal war hobble across the stage, are locked into tiny rooms crawling with rats and roaches, and are left to sit in their own waste.

“The stage will be ringed by White Male Conservative Fundamentalist Evangelical on tall pulpits who will repetitively rant about the feminists, queers, Darwin and the ACLU oppressing and destroying Christian America while urinating continuously on the proceedings. To spice it up a little, every now and then one of the White Male Conservative Fundamentalist Evangelical preachers will smoke meth and/or orally pleasure some young gentleman volunteer from the audience.

“The daughter of the Vice President will stand under the shower of Conservative urine and sing a merry song about her great love of the Family Values of her Father and her Party.

”Then ‐ live and on stage -- she and her lesbian lover will then give birth to a child out of wedlock.

“Every six minutes a voice will shout from offstage ‘Who is to blame for this horror show?’ and everyone on stage will shout back ‘Slick Willie!’ in unison.

“Every four minutes a spotlight will pick out various Family Values leaders in the wings engaged in various acts of including but not limited to sex with a gay prostitute, sex as a gay prostitute, attempting to solicit gay sex from young boys, embezzling funds from disabled veterans, stealing from native Americans, looting and then busting out various massive corporations, rigging elections, selling soldiers tainted food and toilet water at premium prices, attacking senior citizens for hating soldiers and loving “teh gay”



(Or did you forget?)


“And so forth…”

The American People look very uncomfortable, but the Republican Party continues…

“This will be followed by a series of what we call Ironic Soliloquies.

“First, one of our Faith Based 'scientists' will sodomize a baby polar bear with the worlds 'Global Warming' painted on its fur.

“Second, the head of the agency in charge of responding to national emergencies will let an entire American city die. No expense will be spared in making this as realistic as possible, including the mocking of the dead, the dying and the devastated as being 'lazy and stupid'...

“Third, the top Law Enforcement Officer in the country will torture a series of bound prisoners live, soak the writ of Habeas Corpus in kerosene and set in alight, smash the machinery of democracy, all while singing a rockin’ cover of 'I Don’t Remember'.



“The Secretary of Defense will then fuck an entire country into the ground, destroy the military, lie until his ass actually falls off, and mock anyone who asks honest questions.

“Then, for laughs, the Vice President will shoot a guy. An old guy. In the face.

“The old guy will then profusely apologize for getting in the way of the Vice President’s buckshot.”

The Republican Party pauses, smiling, and then continues:

"This is the best part: the President of the United States then comes back onstage in a flight suit and a massive codpiece, struts over the dead and wounded, over our ruined national reputation, over our failing schools, over our crippling debt, and praises every one of us for the brilliant job we have done, and passes out Presidential Medal’s of Freedom.

“Then a giant banner reading ‘Mission Accomplished’ drops out the ceiling, and 29% of the audience applauds wildly as we all get up and take a bow."

The Republican Party looks at the American People and says, "Well, that's the act. What do you think?"

The American People just sit there stunned for a long time. Finally they say, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call yourselves?"



"The Aristocrats!"


- posted by driftglass

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Attaturk: "Anniversaries"



If the hat fits

Thanks to Attaturk for this great crosspost!

We're coming up on the Fourth Anniversary of "Mission Accomplished".

But there are, as ever in disastrous clusterfucks, other non-heroic non-heroes to commemorate as others suffer the consequence of their non-heroism.

This is approximately, the second anniversary of this:



Let us reflect on what passed for the
wisdom of Rich Lowry
at that time:

It is time to say it unequivocally: We are winning in Iraq.

If current trends continue, our counter-insurgent campaign in Iraq will be fit to be mentioned in the same breath as the British victory over a Communist insurgency in Malaysia in the 1950s, a textbook example of this form of war. Our counterinsurgency has gone through the same stages as that of the Brits five decades ago: confusion in the initial reaction to the insurgency, followed by a long period of adjustment, and finally the slow but steady erosion of the insurgency's military and political base. Even as there has been a steady diet of bad news about Iraq in the media over the last year, even as some hawks have bailed on the war in despair, even as Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld has become everyone's whipping boy, the U.S. military has been regaining the strategic upper hand.


That was Rich Lowry, who if he was paid at all, IS VASTLY OVERPAID, then.

I make no claims to even above-average intelligence. I'm just some guy in Iowa that Brian Williams sneers at. I do this blog at its actual retail value -- I let the market decide, and the market clearly hates my fucking guts. Consequently this blog makes me, literally dozens of dollars a year! Yet, I bet the loss-leader in conservative publications grosses (and I mean grosses) Rich Lowry in the low six-figures.

Yet, look at my wisdom in April 2005 in comparison:

Sadly, given their track record, a bloodier Civil War is all but guaranteed.



And what has Rich Lowry been saying lately?

ABC News on Iraq [Rich Lowry]

Here's the YouTube of that encouraging ABC report on the surge, mentioned by Jonah earlier today.

04/04 05:14 PM


And then here, we see Commandante Lowry, "General Clownsewitz" approvingly link to this from the NY Post
on March
20, 2007
about how the "surge" is working:


Another change: an emphasis on protecting of gathering places like mosques and marketplaces. "We initiated Operation Safe Markets," Petraeus said, "and have placed ordinary concrete highway barriers around the vulnerable targets." Car bombings have dropped precipitately - the limited access thwarts them.

As a result, "The marketplaces, including the book market that was targeted for an especially vicious attack, are rebuilding and doing great business.
It is helping the local economy enormously to have this kind of protection in place." With jobs plentiful and demand growing, the appeal of militia armies declines proportionally.



Normally, I'd say oops, but I think the more appropriate "why the fuck are you able to leave your bed in the morning?" works better for me.

- posted by Attaturk

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Christofascists Disrupt Theater Performance in Boston


Not the way to make friends and influence people

Jen here. For those of you not familiar with the work of Mike Daisey, he's a wonderful monologuist and the author of "21 Dog Years: Doing time at Amazon.com." He's also a helluva nice guy and was a tangential but a very welcome part of the New York New Media scene back in the Netslaves days.

This past Thursday, some Christian group decided that they didn't like Mr. Daisey's language and content in his latest piece, Invincible Summer. So, they stormed the stage and destroyed his only working copy of the notes for that night's performace, and walked out without saying a word.

There's no doubt that this was planned--it was a sold out show and over 80 ChristoZombies attended.

Other than thanking these retards for giving him material for his next monologue and book (and no doubt shitloads of free publicity--he's already been on TV a few times (search Mike Daisey on YouTube)--I think he's re-opened the dialogue on the place of religion in public policy discourse in his own way, especially its role in "liberal" cities like Boston.

When it all boils down, a lot of "public policy" on tolerance in the US and on college campuses isn't about keeping angry mobs from burning down the houses of worship of unpopular minorities--it's about allowing a certain degree of intolerance by verbal minorities to be enshrined in public policy. Lip service to creationism, restrictions on sex education and contraception access, and blue laws of all stripes are all sleeping Nosferatus with spikes in their hearts, rumbling in the shallow grave of America's Puritan past.

In the particular case at hand, one of the Nosferatu-infected rats gnawed its way out of the coffin and jumped up into the horrified view onto the dinner table of the genteel academically tolerant who were suddenly forced to see what they were really "defending."

What do I mean like this? Well, after 9/11 and the Danish Cartoon Fiasco I asked where the moderate Muslim groups were; where was the outcry. Now I ask: What does the Harvard Campus Crusade for Christ have to say about this? Local Catholic League? Any on-campus, tuition-and-tax-dollar funded group that in its spare time in between "cleansing souls" is busy bombing clinics, bashing gays, and censoring what we read and see? No? How about the regular Priest/Pastor on the street; the leaders of moderate congregations, the vast majority of churchgoers? Last time I checked, Boston had a few churches of various stripes up there. Will this be on anyone's sermon sheet today?

I don't expect much feedback from these folks. Why not? Because for the fundies and clinic bombers, these six-fingered split-palette drooling raving demented freaks are the MONEYMAKERS, just like the geeks at a travelling carnival. They are the ones who get donations (and the gibbering footsoliders that collect them) that make it back into the "mainstream" sides of religious institutions--you know, the nice polite, scrubbed folks who do polite little canned speeches at Earth Day celebrations, Yom Hashoa memorial services, and so forth.

(Side note: This is why I only donate items or service to my local shul, NOT money. The shul school needs software, I get a list and order it for them. They need a computer set up, I do it. I NEVER give ANY money unless it's for a direct and immediate material thing (ie Seder meal for myself) because I don't believe in sending my money, no questions asked, to Israel or to ANY radical religious group, even my own. I encourage all people who identify with ANY faith to do the same.)

So far, no news on what particular ChristoFascist group was responsible, or if charges can or will be pressed. However, I can't help but wonder what the result would be if 80 performance artists all attended a Church service, and got up in the middle of Mass and destroyed the alter as a sort of performance art.

I encourage everyone to go see Mike's show if you can, and if not, buy his book and/or throw him a few bucks, just by way of moral support.

And to the people who did this: Please take your stupid, inbred, repressed selves the fuck out of any city that has at least one institution of higher learning-the grown-ups are trying to talk.

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LowerManhattanite: "The infinite bravery of the basement-dwelling, cheeto-dusted, internet tough-guy's mind"



Shhhhh! Don't wake him! He's kicking
major super-villain *ss in his sleep


Another major effort by LowerManhattanite, for which we are all the better!

Hello.

My name is LowerManhattanite.

I have a wingnut, Rush-bot, GOP talking point-spewing younger brother.

(Crowd assembled in small conference room:)

"Hello, LowerManhattanite!"

My brother's back in town. Navy MCPO (Master Chief Petty Officer). Twenty-five years in. Always a contrarian, he's opted out of the family's progressive bent, and totally swallowed the wingnut bait...and the hook...about oh...four feet of line, the sinker and maybe...close to a foot of the fishing pole the GOP waggles out there at impressionable, young servicemen. He went for it--all the way. Proudly.

But he's back in town from the Gulf. Been back a while. We don't talk so much these days as his freeperism has alienated him from much of the family, save from my mom--bless her heart. I did see him Tuesday though, as our love of baseball is the one main thing that keeps us civil when we do talk. I'd gotten a couple of tickets to that night's Yankee game and couldn't go myself. So, I met him to pass the tix along. We linked up at 59th St. and Lex. And I gave him a huge hug--welcoming him home and being just generally thankful he was safe--as he'd been deployed to the volatile Persian Gulf repeatedly in the last two years.

As we embraced, I could hear the crumple of my face pressing into his nylon hoodie, and the muffled sound of bustling traffic. The cilp-clop of expensive shoes clattering past...and a New York Post barker hawing the day's tabloid wares. As we ended the embrace, we talked for a minute or two--passing the tickets, and schmoozing baseball. Eventually though, the paper-hawker's grating tone kind of...overwhelmed every nearby sound--including our attempted conversation.

The headline on the paper he was so annoyingly hard-selling, read: "30 Kids Shot Dead".

My brother looked over at the pile of papers and muttered, "Crazy f*ck. I hope nobody I know got hurt." I'd forgotten that he lived down there for years--a decade in fact--and could probably know particulars involved.

"How does a crazy f*ck like that get a gun?", he opined out loud.

Which kind of startled me, as he was to my knowledge, quite the second amendment absolutist. A borderline gun nut.

"Well...they're saying he bought it legally.", I said.

'Yeah...well..." he replied, "...you know what? Everybody that wants a gun shouldn't be able to get a gun. I think we see that. now."

I was kind of flabbergasted. I assiduously avoid political discussion with him because of his views, but here he was--opening the door to it--and taking, yeah...a contrarian tack to what he normally would.

"Eh...whattaya gonna do?", I said trying to move past the potential minefield with him. "I mean, he passed the background check, so..."

With a flat, even tone, he said, "I've been around weapons for the last 25 years. Bombs. Nukes. Missiles. Torpedoes. And a sh*tload of guns. Been around thousands of dudes with guns."

"And I wouldn't trust half of 'em with a gun beyond a war situation. And barely there. Stupid, crazy f*cks. And these are military people! They're scary. They walk around--these crazy military people I know...and they got gun licenses! Now you got "Joe Blow Crazies" walking around, regular people--but crazy--who can just walk into a place and get a f*cking gun--and do God knows what--sh*t like this!

I was a little taken aback--as this was my wingnutty brother. Who a few years ago would regurgitate Rush's latest screed verbatim to me--and talk of nuttiness like Iraqi WMDs hidden in "underground lakes" near Karbala (I sh*t you not). I've heard him go off on gun control many a time before, citing numerous times how this scenario and that one would have been different if "somebody there had a gun to handle that sh*t". And now he was...well, practically talking about some tighter laws on selling guns. Gingerly, I asked him as much--fearing a hard rightward rhetorical veer home for him afterward.

"I have no problem making a mother-f*cker wait a coupla' weeks. Or a month."

I was to say the least, stunned. I didn't know what to say. I just kind of blinked a few times, trying to find a decorous way to say "What the f*ck happened to you?"

"Everybody can't have a gun.", he reiterated. "If you knew how many sailors get in trouble off-base with guns at home. Dudes licensed to carry. Domestic sh*t. Threatening neighbors. Dumb sh*t. We're always de-fusing sh*t involving guns. And these are military mother-f*ckers--trained. You know I got a marksmanship medal, right?"

I nodded as I remembered that as one of his first medals he proudly sent us pictures of two decades before.

"We all handle guns. If you're active, you have to. And after 9-11, you can't help but wanna touch your gun once a week. I serve with too many *ssholes you'd call crazy. Crazy *ssholes with guns. Now, you got Joe Blow Crazy, who ain't even gonna get the training my crazies do, and he can take his psycho-*ss into a gun shop and walk out, same day with a piece? F*ck that. Make 'im wait. Check 'im close. Real close. And if anything comes up after a month--f*ck him. No gun for you.".

He ended his little rant saying, "Crazy and dangerous trumps the second amendment...every day of the week."

"Well..." I said. "That's true." This was the first time we'd agreed on a third-rail political subject like this...in over twenty years.

So, as to not f*ck up that strange, but magical moment--I figured I'd steer the discussion toward other things we could agree on--factual shared history--in this case, instances where he and I had encountered gunplay that could've gone Virginia Tech bad. As New Yorkers growing up in the seventies and eighties, when gun crime was freakishly common, we'd seen more than our share together. We recounted the time we were at a club on Merrick Blvd. celebrating a local girl's birthday, when a disgruntled cat who was barred entry due to his attire suddenly started blazing away--"pap-pap-pap-pap-pap-pap!"--with a small automatic. My brother, sister, two friends from the neighborhood, and the girl I'd just met on the dance floor, hit the wall, and booked like fiends down a hallway, past a bathroom and through the blazing hot kitchen, upsetting trays of buffalo wings as we skidded on the flour-covered floor, and then--out the side door and down the block. Hauling *ss to the cars without looking back at the shrieks and cacophony of concrete-slapping feet behind us. Thankfully, there were only a few graze wounds to patrons--but I'll never forget the way we all wound up sitting, trembling in lawn chairs in the back yard that night, recounting the sudden potential for death. My brother reminded me of the girl I'd been dancing with, sitting there silently for awhile, sipping a ginger ale we'd grabbed from the fridge.

"That was crazy.", she said. "Um...what was your name again?"

We had a laugh about that one.

We didn't laugh about the next anecdote, which he brought up.

It was at a house party--about a hundred people strong in Laurelton--it was an engagement party/barbecue/celebration for childhood friends who were getting hitched. One partygoer, K____, whipped up a toxic as f*ck, alcoholic concoction he called "Ding-Dong-Dilly". Imagine a half-gallon of Long Island Iced Tea--on steroids. This stuff was brownish and viscous, as it contained the better part of maybe 10-to-15 different alcoholic spirits mixed together. He'd made it as a goof--a nutty joke drink for people to sip and either gag on, or get immediately buzzed and silly on. But one friend from around the way, an idiot macho nut, decided to prove how much of a man he was by guzzling down half of it in one pop. A friend came downstairs from where the idiot quaffing was happening, laughing "Yo, S_____ f*ckin' drank half of that sh*t-water K___ mixed up. He's buggin' up there right now."

And we could hear him stumbling around up there. Bumping walls and furniture around in what sounded like a blind stupor.

About two minutes later, we were dancing around to Eric B. and Rakim's "I Know You Got Soul", when a loud crash came from the upstairs, and several people came rushing down the stairs like madmen.

"Call the police! S_____'s got a gun!"

And at that moment, S_____ appeared on the steps, waving the owner of the house's gun (a transit cop) around, screaming unintelligibly about his "brother" (He didn't have one. Yikes!). Again, I grabbed family--my sisters and a brother and pushed them towards the back door where a few people were running out--at least those who weren't climbing out the kitchen window and tumbling pell-mell onto the patio and then around the side of the house and away. We hid in the bushes in the yard when I realized my brother, the Navy man, was still in the house--and I freaked out--because I'd heard no shots, and figured S_____ was just holding the assembled hostage or something, in his drink-fueled. psychotic gunplay.

So I shushed my siblings and told them to stay deep in the bushes--and to run like hell if they heard shots, as I crept back to the side of the house to peer into a window and see what was going on. As I neared the window, I heard what sounded like somebody getting the sh*t beaten outta them, and figured S_____ was pistol whipping someone. So, with the sound of my blood pounding in my temples, I quickly got to the window to see just what was happening.

And there I saw, my brother sitting on S_____'s back, handing the gun to a fellow partygoer, while screaming "What the f*ck is your problem, S_____! You could've killed somebody!". The dining room table was upended. The place reeked of alcohol, as the table holding that had been upset as well, and there was a large hole in the drywall under the staircase where S_____ lay with my brother atop him. What had happened?

Turns out, as I came back inside, the story unfolded. A few people were kinda trapped under the steps as S_____ made his whacked-out way down. My brother was one of 'em. And as S_____ staggered by them waving the piece around, my brother hit him on the arm with a bottle from the drink table, while another guy tackled him low, putting the hole in the wall from the impact and knocking over all the alcohol. The "beating" I heard was the two of them bashing S_____'s hand on the wooden floor repeatedly to make him release the gun--which he did eventually--right about the time I'd gotten to the window.

We were able to laugh about it then, maybe to blunt the overweening sense that we'd all dodged something awful that night. But my brother and I didn't laugh yesterday when we recounted it.

"What the f*ck was I thinking?", he said. "He could've killed me. Hitting him with a bottle of Champagne like a f*cking battleship."

"But you got him.", I said.

"I was young. And stupid. And a little drunk myself. It was stupid.", he said ruefully. "I used to think about it sometimes. What if I missed? Or if he saw me and suddenly swung that gat around. You don't f*ck with a psycho with a gun. Even in the Navy. You know what we do on the ship if somebody bugs out with a weapon?"

I shook my head "no."

"You secure your station and get the f*ck off the boat. Get your people off the boat. That's if you're in port. Under weigh, there's a different 'protocol'. But even then, you don't play that Jack Bauer/Die Hard sh*t. Unless they're real slow, or you're real close. Still stupid. Psychos with guns. Don't f*ck with 'em."

We parted ways a little after that. Him to the stadium with a cousin, and me on to a meeting. I thought about our brushes with near-massacres. I thought about his odd shift on the gun issue. Thought about all kinds of sh*t that night, until I got home and hit the interwebs...and came up stinking as if I'd crawled through a dumpster full of discarded chit-lins from my visits to wingnut sites, post-the VA-Tech shooting. There was the reflexive "more guns woulda got fewer people killed" bleats from the likes of a certain dirty-overalled perfesser, and a mis-located Johnny Reb wannabe. I don't link to snuff films and I won't link to them. Sniff the air and where you catch the stink of moldering carrion, you can find their prattlings.

But worse yet, these inane, Jack-sh*t-Bauers were but the tip of a iceberg of frozen, crazyf*ck piss. The talking-point whores for hire who stroll "The Corner" took things to their usual syphillitically insane extreme. These clowns actually opted to take the poor victims to task for not rushing a two-gunned nut with enough ammo to take down a hundred people. Took them to task--for not being faster than bullets. For a lack of bravery in the face of a fusillade of automatic gunfire--hurled by raw, naked crazy. Here's a taste. And kids...get the ipe-f*cking-cac.

"As NRO's designated chickenhawk, let me be the one to ask: Where was the spirit of self-defense here? Setting aside the ludicrous campus ban on licensed conceals, why didn't anyone rush the guy? It's not like this was Rambo, hosing the place down with automatic weapons. He had two handguns for goodness' sake—one of them reportedly a .22.

At the very least, count the shots and jump him reloading or changing hands. Better yet, just jump him. Handguns aren't very accurate, even at close range. I shoot mine all the time at the range, and I still can't hit squat. I doubt this guy was any better than I am. And even if hit, a .22 needs to find something important to do real damage—your chances aren't bad.

Yes, yes, I know it's easy to say these things: but didn't the heroes of Flight 93 teach us anything? As the cliche goes—and like most cliches. It's true—none of us knows what he'd do in a dire situation like that. I hope, however, that if I thought I was going to die anyway, I'd at least take a run at the guy"--Derbyshire
_____________________________


I haven’t weighed in yet on Virginia Tech — mainly because, in a saner world, it would not be the kind of incident one needed to have a partisan opinion on. But I was giving a couple of speeches in Minnesota yesterday and I was asked about it and found myself more and more disturbed by the tone of the coverage. I’m not sure I’m ready to go the full Derb but I think he’s closer to the reality of the situation than most. On Monday night, Geraldo was all over Fox News saying we have to accept that, in this horrible world we live in, our “children” need to be “protected. Point one: They’re not “children.” The students at Virginia Tech were grown women and — if you’ll forgive the expression — men." --Steyn


Yeah...our brave "Sir Robins" got the *sshole bus there...all the way to the last f*cking stop--happily...and with no money for fares home. These utter cowards, who a shooter would have to fire through a wall of sh*t and 'cross an ocean of piss to kill, have the gall to criticize the poor targets for not concocting fantastic, Neo/Matrix, bullet-time counter-attack ballets, and failing that--then question the relative masculinity and maturity of the victims. Even Michelle "I run from tough questioners and people who retaliate in-kind to my creepy postings" Malkin hopped aboard this square-wheeled bandwagon of runny bullsh*t. The screeching twit did so, using the students' deaths as a stalking horse for a screed against an effete focus on education in school (!), instead of classmates sitting there as pistol-packin', two-fisted, steel-coiled "John Does" at the ready at all times to whoop *ss on a dime.

Kids. Some of 'em just outta high school. Some not old enough to drink.

Think on that for a second. This group of braggodicious loudmouths--full of bluster, and slam-bang, Mickey Spillane-ish rhetoric via dead trees and the bits and bytes of their cyber-battlefields--while exhibiting in actual practice, all the physical courage of Don Knotts' Barney Fife at a Crips convention, would dare...would f*cking dare...to call out a bunch of young people--facing bullet-after-death-dealing-bullet from automatic weapons fired by a maniac.

"Shoulda shot 'em." "Shoulda tackled 'em." "Shoulda stood up and been big 'ol d*ck-swingin' manly men instead of education-obsessed, p*ssified snobs." "Ah-rooooooooo-aaaah!"

Look upon it...in all its majesty, people. The infinite bravery of the basement-dwelling, cheeto-dusted, internet tough-guy's mind. Beautiful thing, isn't it?

It's dipped that low for these "Last Inaction Heroes". They've pushed our fighting forces into the teeth of a grinding, senseless war, and then bitched when the blood spattered their cuffs. Talked tough on ripping the fingernails out of people we've captured to get bogus intel, then called our "good guys" p*ssies when they found themselves on the soppy end of waterboarding. So this new, beneath a maggot's heel nadir should be no surprise. And yet? We're like CSI cops. jaded from seeing all manner of death--until the day we see something new--like a guy strangled with his own intestines. And then we blink back the shock of the sick, new twist on something old as time. Be it death. Or be it rank cowardice and hypocrisy, there's always the opportunity to surprise, I guess.

Color sane folk momentarily slack-jawed with awe over this one.

But you don't have to have been face-to-face with uncaring nuts with guns like I, or many others have. Use your brain like these unfeeling, unthinking losers opted not to. Imagine facing down a hail of automatic gunfire from two weapons. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! Only faster. And echoing.The loud blasts echoing in your head, as you see people falling all around you--because in real life, people when hit by bullets tend to fall like stones, and not stagger around with gritted-teeth heroism like John Wayne in the third reel of a western. There's blood everywhere. People rushing to aid friends. Screams. Of confusion, pain and soul-burning fear. Screams. The shooting claims victims instantly. .22 caliber shells bounce around in people, tearing up tissue, bone and everything. The 9mm ones just blast through you--and hit the poor f*ck behind you too. The shooting seems to never stop. Chewing through doors. Shattering glass. Soft human flesh. And when it does stop for the few seconds it takes to drop spent clips and ratchet in fresh, metallic death, there's shock. People frozen as they take in the grisly tableau rendered by a splatter-painting lunatic. Others perhaps thanking God the carnage is at last, over. And then--f*ck!--it starts... all over again.

"Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!" And so on.

Taking that sensory description into account, repeat in your head, the idiocy of the aforementioned internet "tough guys", and tell me you don't wish you had a time machine, so you could send them to...say, the Tate and LaBianca homes, circa August of '69--just for f*cking kicks.

Yeah, it's rough justice. But that's the price of screaming misanthropy, disrespect for the dead, and hatred for your fellow man's not living out your egomaniacal death fantasies. Tough sh*t, bully-boys.

And that's where it stands, folks. What's the old saying? "A fish rots from the head down?" Start with the standard-bearer--a known-cowardly President play-acting the warrior for self-aggrandizement and fawning cameras. His right-hand ducks duty's call five times, but questions the heart of anyone who challenges his sending others into a joke war's deathly maw. A craven crew of elected enablers of the same insane war--combat cowards in life, Rambo in mind and speech against those who question their fecklessness. Filtering down at last, to a soft-handed pundit class for whom no one is as tough as they--the wielders of the mighty cyber-fist.

A fist comprised of four oh-so-mighty fingers: Cheetos, Grape Kool-Aid, Hubris, Bluster--oh yeah, and a thumb wrapping over 'em: Hypocrisy. Hammering away. Raining bits and bytes on people actually experiencing life's blows. Raining bits and bytes , while dancing the "It's-About-Me" shuffle, all from the safety behind a monitor.

Fighting the good fight, from mommy's paneled basement. And then, standing there...proud, in piss-yellowed costumes, with tears streaming down, mock Lukes, Solos and Chewies at the end of "Star Wars". Awaiting their medals for hard-typed cyber-valor. Let sound the fanfare, from the sh*tty, old Dell's tinny speakers, and let us recognize these...heroes.


For the infinite bravery of the basement-dwelling, cheeto-dusted, internet tough-guy's mind.

- posted by LowerManhattanite

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Seitan Worshipper: "DKos' leevank: Wolfowitz girlfriend planned the Iraqi government"



Maybe hiring her wasn't such a great idea

Thanks to Seitan Worshipper for this great Kos find!

I sh*t you not. What was that old Lily Tomlin (I think) quote? "I tried to be cynical, but I can't keep up [i.e., with real events]."

Wolfowitz girlfriend planned the Iraqi government
by leevank

Tue Apr 17, 2007 at 08:05:02 PM PDT

As if the tangled web of Paul Wolfowitz and his girlfriend, Shaha Riza, weren't already sordid enough, now comes word that while he was Deputy Secretary of Defense, the Pentagon ordered Science Applications International Corp., a Pentagon contractor, to enter into a subcontract with Ms. Riza under which she spent approximately a month in the spring of 2003 "studying ways to form a government in Iraq."

Here's the way Reuters describes the arrangement:

leevank's diary :: ::
SAIC said Riza's subcontract lasted from April 25 to May 31, 2003. She was paid expenses but no salary during her trip to Iraq, at her request, according to the contractor. [NOTE: The article doesn't make it clear whether she was paid a salary for the portion of time under the contract in which she wasn't actually in Iraq, but was presumably drafting whatever report she prepared -- if she actually prepared one.]

Melissa Koskovich, a spokeswoman for SAIC, said the contractor "had no role in the selection of the personnel who comprised the Iraq Governance Group under this contract."

Defense sources said the Pentagon was reviewing the matter.

I'd be fascinated to know who, other than Ms. Riza, constituted the "Iraq Governance Group," and what work product Ms. Riza actually delivered. It's not enough that Wolfowitz had a major role in leading this country into an unnecessary war that I think may well turn out to be the most serious foreign policy blunder in this country's history. No, he couldn't leave bad enough alone, but had to get his girlfriend a job planning the most screwed-up occupation and transfer to a new government in perhaps the entire history of military occupations.

I've got a suggestion for Mr. Wolfowitz: After you get fired by the World Bank, why don't you and your honey move to Baghdad and form your little love nest somewhere outside the Green Zone, where you can have lots of togetherness while living in the middle of the great success that you've created? Maybe the Iraqis will be so impressed by this great love affair between a Jewish man and an Arab Muslim woman that they'll realize the foolishness of their silly sectarian quarrels, and Iraq will become the shining beacon of tolerance and democracy that you told us it would be. Of course, things might not turn out that way, but since you're willing to take big risks with other people's lives, I'm sure you won't hesitate to take some risks with your own.

- posted by Seitan Worshipper

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Danny Doom: "A Master Debate"



Sure, all fake

Thanks to Danny Doom for this great cross-post!

Something funny: I’m driving home and I got the AM on because the FM is broken, and so there’s this guy with a munchkin voice on WLS-890 ranting about Newt Gingrich. I guess Gingrich debated John Kerry about global warming today and didn’t do so hot. Turns out the munchkin voice is a guy named Mark Levin, who has a blog over at the National Review (right-wing nutball central). I thought he was an Oompa-Loompa or something, but no, he’s a conservative kook with his own little radio talk show too. Turns out that there is also a blog over there called “Planet Gore” which they use to make fun of Al Gore and the global warming crowd, in a way that would seem familiar if you were in the sixth grade still. You know the usual thing, where they joke about how it’s snowing outside in April, so how can there be global warming, ha ha, that silly Al Gore in his private jet and house that uses all that energy… Forget science, Planet Gore is where you go to score cheap political points in the absence of a real argument. So anyway, there’s Newt Gingrich and John Kerry debating global warming and, from the sound of the munchkin Mark Levin, Gingrich let down his conservative base by basically giving in to John Kerry and agreeing that something needs to be done about this situation. He had, it seems, the reasonable approach that normal people have about this issue, in a way that transcends politics and looks toward improving the state of the planet for the future. Gingrich even has a book coming out called “A Contract With the Earth,” if you can believe it. Levin raised his tiny voice and raged, and all I could do was laugh. There goes another perfect candidate for ‘08! Even more hilarious though, was another NRO nut named Iain Murray, who wrote this gem on The Corner earlier today:
All I can say is that wasn’t the Newt I gave a standing ovation to at the Oxford Union in 1985(I very rarely give standing ovations), nor the one who appeared at the National Review Institute Summit a couple of months ago. He seemed off his game somewhat, and was perhaps trapped by a desire to seem reasonable on the issue, which Kerry exploited to the full.
Trapped by a desire to seem reasonable on the issue! Imagine that, NRO readers! Not something you’re used to, I know! So no wonder Oompa Loompa was pissed, and I would imagine there will be others disappointed in Gingrich’s bout with reason. I would wait it out if I were them, though; there’s a good chance Newt will open his mouth again tomorrow and heal thyself.

- posted by Danny Doom

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LowerManhattanite: "Radio Silence"



Thanks to LowerManhattanite for yet another fantastic piece!!



The year was 1980. Senior year of High School.

It was Manhattan. The height of disco, debauchery and dissolution--a happy time in NYC if you were young, free and in search of a good time. Our crew at school was a fun one. Black kids. White kids. Latin Kids. Asian Kids. All taking full advantage of the ripe, swollen fruit of a city splayed out before us when the bell sounded the school day's end.

Oh yeah, one rabid republican kid rolled with us too. Let's call him J.B.

Total Reagan worshipper--at the age of seventeen if you can imagine that. Came in skipping like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz the day after election day. I'm sure that when Ronnie ran that "ketchup is a vegetable" bullsh*t, J.B. was down at the garden supply store haranguing a clerk for ketchup seeds.

Kid was a true believer--in the scary-borderline worst way.

Whenever he got the chance, he'd throw Saint Ronnie, "The Great Prevaricat-uh...Communicator" up in our faces. Every Bob Hope-writer-scrawled Reagan quip--was Keats to him. Every Reagan victory--was the flag on Iwo-f*cking-Jima. Ronnie was Jesus, and all of us who hated him were whip-wielding Jews and Romans as far as he was concerned. But oddly, J.B. still hung with us. Apparently, he was lonely. Imagine that! And I guess we found him entertaining. He was our clique's own "troll" I suppose, and we let him hang around. Eventually he became a friend, in spite of his politics, which we regarded as some sort of weird after-effect of political abuse in the home at the hands of his equally wingnutty parents.

The years would go by, and occasionally I'd see him here or there. He worked in video, and he'd always make a point of razzing me about this GOP victory or that one when he saw me on a soundstage or supply house somewhere. The mid 90's was a political, gold-bars-being-handed-out-at-an-unlimited-touching-free-groping-and-free-beer-t*tty bar for him--and he made no bones about reveling in victory every time he saw me during those heady "Contract With America" years.

I last saw J.B. in mid '05 at a camera store. He was a haughty freeper, still.

Until Saturday. When I ran into him at J&R (an electronics store) in Manhattan.

"Heyyyyyy, J.B.", I practically leered. "How's that party of yours doi-"

"I'D RATHER NOT JOKE ABOUT IT!", he spat, cutting me off.

"Awwww, come on man...I know you've got something good for me-"

"WHAT ABOUT 'I DON'T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT' DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?

"What? We can't talk politics?"

"There's nothing to discuss."

There's nothing to discuss.

We bantered a bit about business--cameras, tech stuff--bullsh*t like that...but the recent maelstrom of smells-like-*ss trouble for his beloved party was totally off-limits. And that struck me. Normally, J.B. was a veritable talking points "See and Say". Pull his string and listen to him go. This time though, the talking points machine was busted. Dead batteries. Fouled pull cord. Gunk on the contacts. A dreidel plopped in wet cement would've given better spin. But J.B.'s reticence to engage was part of a pattern I was beginning to notice from the usually boisterous knuckleheads of the sooty-handed, dinosaur-riding right-wing variety. In my semi-regular every-48-hour spelunking through the sewer pipes (which serve as the city streets) of right blogsylvania, I saw--or rather didn't see something quite obvious.

This Cat 4 sh*tstorm the right's enduring (would that they end up like the Katrina victims afterward) has broken their entire talking points machine apparatus. Libby. Walter Reed. AttorneyGate. Iraq. GSA-Gate, The non-working "working" surge? It seems the rebuttal/spin machine is overwhelmed--thrown a rod, if you will--and can't get back on-line. Note the obsessions from the likes of wingnut central--like Insta-f*ckwit, and the yapping Malkin as they woozily flap smelling salted napkins before their faces--"Oh mah lord! A nasty an-ur-kist has pooped on the flag! Will no one share in mah star-spangled out-raaaaaaayge?"

(Cue appropriate sound effect)

Now granted, there are a few of the spittle-flecked F-listers out there calling for glass parking lots still. Pleading for the trial, imprisonment and hanging of the Democratic leadership. Even praying that this country "gets hit again" so that we will all be taught a lesson. No links. Google psychotic, nihilistic brain-dead f*cks and I'm sure you'll come up with their splutterings. But when the right's bigwigs do reluctantly "tackle"--more like pitty-pat two-hand touch for you gridiron fans--the subject that is the collective pig-f*ck, and the Gonzales bed-sh*t specifically, a few have been reduced to mewling a wounded, soon-to-be-buzzard chow, political roadkill sound. After the truck first hit 'em on the interstate, it was a banshee howl--"Investigations! Not legislation!", "They serve at the president's pleasure!" "Show trial--WITCH HUNT!" But as they lay at the roadside, life, blood and '08 chanced leaking away into the grass--the faint mewl comes.

"Incompetence".

"Shot themselves in the foot."

"Sigh! I never liked Gonzales. He should go."

What makes the last sad whimper so pitiful is its desperation. These people who wouldn't give an inch on anything--who fairly sang "That's why you keep losing elections!" and "We have the math!" in the faces of progressive activists up until 11:59 P.M. last November 6th, now sound ironically (in light of recent revelations by Elizabeth Edwards and Tony Snow) like people did decades ago when discussing cancer. There was a school of thought where the word "cancer" wasn't even mentioned in polite company--so freighted it was with stigma. Spoken in hushed tones, if at all. Euphemisms deployed instead.

"The Big 'C' "

Well...we have a new political "Big C" nowadays. The affliction, the stigma that dares not have its name spoken aloud in GOP circles.

C-O-R-R-U-P-T-I-O-N

You won't hear them say it aloud. That would be verboten. "Will-to-power"-ing. Negative actualization. "No one beyond this office can know about this, Doc.", they say. "Just cut it out and get me back on my feet, pronto!"

"Cut it out? Don't you get what I'm telling you? It's everywhere. Everywhere. I suggest--I suggest you start getting your affairs in ord-"

"SHUT UP! I don't wanna hear that! Just CUT IT OUTTA ME!"

What to do? Put 'em on Fentanyl lollipops and send 'em on their way. And once on the street, in their misplaced shame, and inability to deal with the obvious diagnosis, they'll say nothing of it. "The Big C"? Don't speak on it.

Radio silence.

Darn that incestuous L.A. Times Sunday Section!

Chocolate Jesus? Sacré bleu!

Al Gore went outta town and left the humidifier on allllllllllll weekend loooooooong!

Oh wait...you mean those Geneva Conventions?

"Hiccup!" Dirty pillows! "Hiccup!" Sanjaya? "Hiccup--bleeeeeaarrrgh"

Every day, a new revelation of f*ckeduptitude. Another lie. Yet another example of craven illegality bubbles up like the corn-studded turd that will not be flushed. Spray the luminol. Shine the U.V. light. Son-of-a-bitch, willya look at that! There's blood spattered everywhere.

It's a Goddamned crime scene

"You got anything to say?"

"Yeah. Get me my lawyer. Oh yeah...one more thing. How 'bout that Sanjaya? 'Hiccup!'"

- posted by LowerManhattanite

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Video: O'Reilly vs. Geraldo



Veins-a-poppin'

Must be watched to be believed.

I'm not sure which pisses me off more: the fact that O'Reilly didn't fall over dead on the spot, or that I came away feeling like I was on Geraldo's side.

Via Oliver Willis.

- posted by Jim in LA

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Caged Bird: "Tony Blankley Says Iraq More Important than Vietnam"



And to think they call them "jolly"

Thanks to Caged Bird for this incredible find!


On the McLaughlin Group program aired on Sunday, 4/1/2007 Tony Blankley described the ultimate sacrifice of 58,209 Americans in Vietnam with this declaration:

MR. BLANKLEY: The Iraq war is much more important than Vietnam. Losing Vietnam did not create the kind of world danger that losing Iraq would. So we can't afford to lose Iraq, even though we could eventually, as it proved out, afford to lose Vietnam.

Seated next to Blankley was Pat Buchanan. Buchanan did not object to the characterization of Vietnam as less important than Iraq. Pat Buchanan sat mute. I expected outrage that Blankley could blithely and dismissively reduce the tragedy that is still Vietnam to a cost/benefit equation. I disappointed that no one called him on it. I was appalled that no one reminded Bucahanan of his complicity in the justification of the Vietnam War.

Fortunately, we have Buchanan's own words . Buchanan is quite voluble about the treason of those in opposition of his rationale for the war and those who disagreed that we could afford the cost of the 200,000 killed or wounded and the net future value of their families.

McLaughlin archive

- posted by Caged Bird

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Skippy the Bush Kangaroo: "gingrich: el español es la lengua del ghetto"



Allow me to lecture you


Gracias a Skippy para este articulo (my espanol blows!)

en una tentativa evidente de cortejar el voto coveted del fanático, gingrich del newt comparado español con "lengua del ghetto" e insistido que cada uno habla inglés, al parecer toda la hora. los asspress:

el altavoz anterior newt gingrich de la casa comparó la educación bilingüe sábado con "la lengua de vivir en un ghetto" y de imitación los requisitos que las balotas se impriman en idiomas múltiples.


"el gobierno debe parar el asignar de que por mandato los varios documentos estén impresos en de 700 idiomas dependiendo de quién demuestre aleatoriamente para arriba" al voto, dijeron gingrich, que está considerando el buscar del nombramiento presidencial republicano en 2008. él hizo los comentarios en un discurso a la federación nacional de mujeres republicanas.

"la gente americana cree que el inglés debe ser la lengua oficial del gobierno... debemos substituir la educación bilingüe por la inmersión en inglés así que la gente aprende que el lenguaje común del país y ella aprenden la lengua de la prosperidad, no la lengua de vivir en un ghetto," gingrich dicho a las aclamaciones de la muchedumbre de más de 100.

la "ciudadanía requiere pasar una prueba en historia americana en inglés. si eso es verdad, después no tenemos que crear balotas en ninguna lengua excepto inglés, "él dijo.

peter zamora, co-silla de la coalición hispánica washington-based de la educación, que apoya la educación bilingüe, dicha, "el tono de sus comentarios era muy odioso. el español es hablado por muchos individuos que no vivan en el ghetto."

él dijo que la investigación ha demostrado "que la educación bilingüe es el mejor método de enseñar inglés a los altavoces no-ingleses." los español-locutores,él dijo, saben que necesitan aprender inglés. "no hay resistencia al inglés que aprende, realmente, entre inmigrantes, entre ciudadanos nativo-llevados. cada uno desea aprender inglés porque es lo que usted necesita para prosperar en este país."


[nota del ed.: si usted necesita ayuda que traduce este pedazo, intente el web site del babelfish de alta vista!]

- posted by Skippy the Bush Kangaroo

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Uncommon Sense: "Glenn Beck - Loser"



In more donut-rific days


Thanks to Uncommon Sense for this great cross-post!

Somehow, Glenn Beck failed to notice that he makes millions of dollars per year to express his opinions on television and on the radio. Despite the fact that one of this country's five corporate owners of the news media is willing to pay him millions of dollars per year for expressing his opinions, Beck says he's one of the people in America who "just can't win." Why can't Beck seem to grab hold of even a small part of the American dream? Why, it's because he belongs to the single most oppressed group in this country: the white, Christian male.
I just -- I'm white. I'm human. There are a lot of environmentalists that don't like humans, but within the humans that accept humans, I'm white. The majority of humans don't like whites. I mean, I just can't win. You can't win. And why is it? Because if you are a white human that loves America and happens to be a Christian, forget about it, Jack. You are the only one that doesn't have a political action committee for you. God forbid, I forgot that I'm also a conservative. I'm a conservative, which is not popular in America, but I'm a conservative that doesn't like the Republicans. I can't win! I've got to find one thing that I agree with, you know, the rest of the world on, I guess. I'm tired of being in that group. Conservatives get no respect.
Weep, America. Weep for Glenn Beck, who has achieved a level of fame and fortune of which most of the 6 billion people on this planet dare not even dream. The poor guy just can't catch a break.


- posted by
Uncommon Sense

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DrBopperTHP: "Peanut Butter Disproves Evolution"



Peanut Butter Disproves Evolution
by "GrrlScientist"

According to this creationist video, peanut butter, which has been subjected to high temperatures to render it sterile, disproves that life can come from non-life. The silliness of this argument reminds me of Kirk Cameron's 'banana proof' of creationism.


link

- posted by DrBopperTHP (and yes, it's April 1 - THANKS DR!)

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