Hey, I never said the blog was PG-13, so deal with it. You remember the scene in Godfather II where Michael sees a Cuban rebel push one of Batista's lackeys into a car and detonate a grenade, killing them both in a suicide attack? Michael immediately deduces, from the rebel's determination, that future business in Cuba isn't likely to be as fruitful as Johnny Ola, Fredo, and Hyman Roth want to think. None of that trio survives the film, of course, which is as it should be.
I had occasion to watch a couple of interviews today that seem apposite, (Flash Video) one with former GE CEO Jack Welch, the (Flash Video) other with the endlessly-dubbed "Mayor of America" (except that Republican America really didn't seem to want that Republican mayor) Rudy Giuliani. Both clips, in their own ways, deal with the genuinely-laudable Supreme Court decision (PDF of the decision) Boumediene v. Bush. Both of these distinguished gentlemen opposed the narrow 5-4 vote that SCOTUS handed down last week, a decision that took the bold step of noting that the right of habeas corpus was enjoyed by those in the Gitmo gulag. Welch took the American-reputation angle, while Giuliani hewed to the talking-points memo, focusing on criticizing Obama.
I really admire the United States; the reasons for that are numerous and probably boring and certainly subject to mockery from my Canadian and especially European associates; the latter I find rather rich, given the fact that Europe--in the twentieth century alone--produced the worst catalogue of crimes against humanity imaginable. The best thing about the United States is not the Constitution of the United States itself, but the notion of constitutionialism, of fair dealing, of basic decency. Tocqueville rightly spotted, almost two hundred years ago, that race would become the Americans' great national scar, in great part due to the denial of that basic decency to black and native Americans.
One of the primary reasons that I grew to admire the United States was how broadly the term "American citizen" could be used. I was lucky enough to come across one such citizen, a Jew who was chosen to integrate, religiously at least, an important American law firm co-founded by the son of Abraham Lincoln, and another, who strikes me as a Yankee of the best kind and was raised all over the world and not very much in the States. The former man, much to my surprise (shows you what I know), was happy to build a flagpole for raising the American flag (and I was happy to buy him a flag for it), while the other has always served to remind me of the real promises of the United States and of that nation's failure to live up to it. He recently wrote to me of his outrage at John McCain's statement that the Boumediene decision was "one of the worst decisions in the history of this country," suggesting that Dred Scott, Plessy, or Korematsu were indisputably worse, and horrifically so. My correspondent was entirely correct in his analysis. It says something about American intellectual life--and I mean the real one, not the one parodied all over the place--that I knew exactly what all three of those decisions were about. The best Americans I know are quite willing to hammer the administration and mood of the day, generally on the basis that some actions are simply un-American, in the best, and indeed only estimable, sense of that word.
So what about Welch and Giuliani? The former is guilty of the kind of "happy talk" rightly ridiculed by a recently-deceased Chicago writer. Just as Michael's doomed associates ignored the realities of the Cuban revolution, Welch seems to ignore the realities of the 42,000 miles he is so proud to have recently traveled. He gaily notes that several European leaders are more pro-American than their predecessors, which along with $2.60 will get you a cup of coffee, and prattles on about the gee-whiz enthusiasm of Eastern Europeans who attend the high-end conferences at which Welch prostitutes himself. Welch is very worried that the Bourmediene decision will somehow give away a decade's worth of intelligence, a claim that, beyond its prima facie absurdity, would seem to neglect the near-universal acknowledgment of the catastrophic failure of the ginormous American intelligence establishment with respect to Islamic terrorism. If I recall correctly, an NBC engineer died in the 9/11 attacks, and one of the many GE tentacles may have had offices somewhere in the World Trade Center complex. I don't dispute Welch's genuine sense of loss about 9/11, but this palaver about what transpired that day is more than a little hard to take.
As for Giuliani, I don't quarrel with the fact that he was the mayor of a city that was brutally attacked on 9/11. The loss of life on that day, in terrorism terms, was sadistic; if you were above the floors that the planes hit, you probably didn't get out, and if you were below those floors, you probably did survive. I choose not to pick on him for the placement of the NYC Emergency Response Center, or for any other of the other missteps he may have made before or after that event, though others are welcome to do so. Let's keep in mind, though, that Rudy made his bones by prosecuting the real-world equivalents of Michael Corleone's inheritors. To hear someone who once held the indisputably-serious position of United States Attorney dismiss the missile attacks that followed the 1998 Embassy bombings is genuinely shocking.
There are laws, and they matter. One would hope that Welch and Giuliani, who between their Catholic selves somehow managed to have six wives, would have grasped that, but it is clear that they don't. That is a goddamned shame. Unlike most of the readers of this here blog, I've actually been to places like Egypt and Israel and Iran. I have no sympathy for these Al-Qaeda or Taliban scumbags, who hate Westerners, Christians, Jews and women in no particular order, and I take real pride in the fact that the first war my essentially-pacifist nation has entered since Korea was against those bastards. I'm not at all sure that we will end up on the winning side, but if you don't fight this war against these motherfuckers, what war do you fight?
Having said that, nothing would make me prouder of the United States than its choosing to accord all of the Gitmo detainees every legal opportunity imaginable. Despite the O.J. and R. Kelly juries, I have every faith that any random group of Americans would decide fairly whether of any of these people should live free or die.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Ten Fascitimnating Facts About Tim
Here are ten things that make me endlessly interesting, nay, irresistible (and you can imagine how hard it was to narrow it down to ten):
1. I have met every Canadian Prime Minister since Dief (and including him), except Lester B. (he died too quickly after famously pissing on LBJ's rug) and the incumbent, Stephen Harper, who is too busy writing his hockey book to invite me up to the old hotness that is 24 Sussex. I have met none of them while they were actually Prime Minister. Trudeau, you'll be shocked to learn, was with a stunning woman who appeared to be younger than my girlfriend at the time.
2. I have been at the water's edge of all four oceans, but haven't been in any of them. I have been in one Great Lake (North American variety), and can't say I liked it much.
3. I have lived in only one city whose name did not end in a vowel (and I've lived there twice!).
4. My grandfather was born in 1878. I'm only 39, so you do the math.
5. I haven't been to the two cities where I spent my first 18 years since 1994 and 1995, respectively, and cannot imagine that I will return to either of them.
6. I once saw, live, all (28 at the time) Major League Baseball teams in one year, in one city.
7. I can spell my name--and probably yours, too--in Yiddish. This is great at parties!
8. I can summon up the actual names of more Canadian military units than anybody I know.
9. The only Passover service I have ever attended--I'm not Jewish, but I prolly should have been--was in Isfahan, Iran. "Surreal" might be an apt description of the experience (though I am open to suggestions).
10. I was once simultaneously employed by two institutions with names so anachronistic that they could be viewed as detrimental to the cause, and even possibly offensive. The terms in question, for those who want to know, were "Oriental" and "Lying-In."
Bonus biscuit: My porn name is Fluffer Upton.
There--aren't you a better person for having read this? I know I am!
1. I have met every Canadian Prime Minister since Dief (and including him), except Lester B. (he died too quickly after famously pissing on LBJ's rug) and the incumbent, Stephen Harper, who is too busy writing his hockey book to invite me up to the old hotness that is 24 Sussex. I have met none of them while they were actually Prime Minister. Trudeau, you'll be shocked to learn, was with a stunning woman who appeared to be younger than my girlfriend at the time.
2. I have been at the water's edge of all four oceans, but haven't been in any of them. I have been in one Great Lake (North American variety), and can't say I liked it much.
3. I have lived in only one city whose name did not end in a vowel (and I've lived there twice!).
4. My grandfather was born in 1878. I'm only 39, so you do the math.
5. I haven't been to the two cities where I spent my first 18 years since 1994 and 1995, respectively, and cannot imagine that I will return to either of them.
6. I once saw, live, all (28 at the time) Major League Baseball teams in one year, in one city.
7. I can spell my name--and probably yours, too--in Yiddish. This is great at parties!
8. I can summon up the actual names of more Canadian military units than anybody I know.
9. The only Passover service I have ever attended--I'm not Jewish, but I prolly should have been--was in Isfahan, Iran. "Surreal" might be an apt description of the experience (though I am open to suggestions).
10. I was once simultaneously employed by two institutions with names so anachronistic that they could be viewed as detrimental to the cause, and even possibly offensive. The terms in question, for those who want to know, were "Oriental" and "Lying-In."
Bonus biscuit: My porn name is Fluffer Upton.
There--aren't you a better person for having read this? I know I am!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Ahoy! Avast! Arrrr!
My nautical "vocabulary" is now exhausted at what seems to be two words and interest. Anyway, I spent a year aboard this puppy one week:
I guess it's a good thing it wasn't that week! I'm not sure what the Robertson II has been used for of late, but I believe she was the last Nova Scotia schooner in service on the Pacific Coast. Sailing on her was lost on a lunkhead like me, but I suspect her former use as a kind of Outward-Bound boat was beneficial to others. It looks like she's staying where she is, until the sea's salt and currents inevitably win out.
I guess it's a good thing it wasn't that week! I'm not sure what the Robertson II has been used for of late, but I believe she was the last Nova Scotia schooner in service on the Pacific Coast. Sailing on her was lost on a lunkhead like me, but I suspect her former use as a kind of Outward-Bound boat was beneficial to others. It looks like she's staying where she is, until the sea's salt and currents inevitably win out.
Monday, June 9, 2008
I'm No Art Critic
But I know what I hate, and I don't hate this:
That's pretty damn good, right down to the red and the blue merging (Obama will never get over that speech). Michelle's dress at the coronation in St. Paul--and don't go calling her a St. Pauli Girl now--was, if you recall, purple, which all the kids know is what you get when you mix red and blue. It's by a well-known (though not to me of course) street artist named Shepard Fairey.
My graphic skills are highly limited, in the way that Dick Cheney's hatred for the oil industry is highly limited. However, I do think the poster could be equally effective as I have rendered it below.
Come to think of it, those two little words could be the whole campaign. No need for the town halls, the Lincoln-Douglas debates, the deathly regular debates, the rallies, the baby-kissing, the slick website, etc. Instead, they could spend the four or five hundred milldo on a really kick-ass party; just make sure to invite me and at least a few women who aren't too picky. See you there!
That's pretty damn good, right down to the red and the blue merging (Obama will never get over that speech). Michelle's dress at the coronation in St. Paul--and don't go calling her a St. Pauli Girl now--was, if you recall, purple, which all the kids know is what you get when you mix red and blue. It's by a well-known (though not to me of course) street artist named Shepard Fairey.
My graphic skills are highly limited, in the way that Dick Cheney's hatred for the oil industry is highly limited. However, I do think the poster could be equally effective as I have rendered it below.
Come to think of it, those two little words could be the whole campaign. No need for the town halls, the Lincoln-Douglas debates, the deathly regular debates, the rallies, the baby-kissing, the slick website, etc. Instead, they could spend the four or five hundred milldo on a really kick-ass party; just make sure to invite me and at least a few women who aren't too picky. See you there!
Kalimera, Kanada!
While Greece has The Iliad, Canada has... Anne of Green Gables. Guess that's not exactly a win for my home and native land. On the other beaver paw, Canada has Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen, while Greece has Nana Mouskouri and Yanni.
I only just learned that Joni and Len hooked up for a brief time in the 1960s (no word on whether the two Greeks ever did so, but I fervently hope not). This news evoked the following thoughts for me: it's a metaphysical certainty that they read their poetry to each other, though at least in this case, the poetry didn't completely blow; can you imagine how intolerable their pillow talk must have been; and, finally, has Leonard Cohen laid everything but the Atlantic Cable? Jesus, for a Jewish guy who can't really sing, he does pretty well. Come to think of it, I'm going to have to check his touring schedule around late December 1967, when I began existence. I'm not casting any undue aspersions on my blessed mother here, and in fact the real story of my conception is fairly hilarious, but it is true that she did have a couple of his albums, the only post-Bill Haley popular music she ever owned.
I only just learned that Joni and Len hooked up for a brief time in the 1960s (no word on whether the two Greeks ever did so, but I fervently hope not). This news evoked the following thoughts for me: it's a metaphysical certainty that they read their poetry to each other, though at least in this case, the poetry didn't completely blow; can you imagine how intolerable their pillow talk must have been; and, finally, has Leonard Cohen laid everything but the Atlantic Cable? Jesus, for a Jewish guy who can't really sing, he does pretty well. Come to think of it, I'm going to have to check his touring schedule around late December 1967, when I began existence. I'm not casting any undue aspersions on my blessed mother here, and in fact the real story of my conception is fairly hilarious, but it is true that she did have a couple of his albums, the only post-Bill Haley popular music she ever owned.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
If Only I'd Known This...
I might have felt differently.
I mean, this is like the girl who won't talk to you all through high school and then confesses her undying affection for you at graduation. What am I supposed to do with that? We could have had some laughs! I might have even helped with the Democrats Abroad primary vote (though I am not a Democrat or, I suppose, a broad). Sigh...
Thursday, June 5, 2008
You Know... This Was Kind Of A Big Deal
Now that Hillary has decided to act, if one day late, like herself and not that scumbag husband of hers, it seems appropriate to note that the Democratic Party (and they were the more pro-slavery ones, remember, and all those dumbass crackers like Jesse Helms started as Democrats) has nominated a black man for President. I have friends, who can actually vote, who are more or less convinced that a black man (or a woman) will never be elected President. I happen to think that they are in error, but they are not obviously wrong.
This is a genuinely gargantuan development. Even if he loses, which means that Grandpa Moses wins, it's a BFD. The New York Times is falling over itself in noting the approval in foreign quarters, which both is and is not important, and I'll likely blather on about that in greater detail down the road.
I hope the guy wins. He's hardly perfect, but he's a damn sight better than the other guy, his wife will kick your ass just for the fun of it, and he isn't an asshat, which might come in handy in the coming years.
In other news, I deeply heart Maureen Dowd. Ideally, my remaining days on earth will give me a chance to strike out with her, as I have with all the other politicas I have flirted with. No names are forthcoming, mind you: a gentleman doesn't not kiss and tell.
This is a genuinely gargantuan development. Even if he loses, which means that Grandpa Moses wins, it's a BFD. The New York Times is falling over itself in noting the approval in foreign quarters, which both is and is not important, and I'll likely blather on about that in greater detail down the road.
I hope the guy wins. He's hardly perfect, but he's a damn sight better than the other guy, his wife will kick your ass just for the fun of it, and he isn't an asshat, which might come in handy in the coming years.
In other news, I deeply heart Maureen Dowd. Ideally, my remaining days on earth will give me a chance to strike out with her, as I have with all the other politicas I have flirted with. No names are forthcoming, mind you: a gentleman doesn't not kiss and tell.
Detroit Won The Stanley Cup!
Again. Yawn. And Chris Chelios can retire any time he wants to. The guy was on the Habs when I was in high school, for the love of Mike! Sidney Crosby's playoff beard is easily the worst ever, which I guess is fair enough, inasmuch as he's nine years old or whatever it is.
Call me un-Canadian, but I just can't get it up for hockey anymore.
Call me un-Canadian, but I just can't get it up for hockey anymore.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Interoffice Memorandum
From: Barack Obama, Senator (D-IL)
To: Hillary Clinton, Senator (D-NY)
Cc: John McCain, Senator (R-AZ)
Date: June 4, 2008
Re: The whole winning/losing thing
Dear Hillary:
Fuck You. Stronger Letter To Follow.
Cordially,
Barack
Here's To the School, By Tolmie's Rugged Hill
Those are actually words from my school's song, which I think I (creepily) remember in its entirety. I have managed to forget, thankfully, most of the school hymn, which had something to with St. Michael, which makes sense as the school is named St. Michaels University School. Michael is also one of my names, though University is not. Anyway, I stole the following pics from the school's website, which I visited during a rare break from Internet porn.
This is School House, where I had the great misfortune to live for a year. I am having trouble figuring a date for this picture, but I am assuming it's pre-World War One, which killed about half of the school's graduates, and indeed one of its founders, Captain Harvey. I believe there is a Union Jack flying above the steps, which sums it up. I have no idea what's going on with the roof.
These are, I presume, Junior School kids, judging by the short pants on buzzcut-boy. A couple of points: there were no girls at the Junior School, or the Middle School for that matter, when I was a student. I did not attend the Junior School, and don't believe I've ever even seen the place, which seems impossible, because Victoria ain't that big, and I lived and loved all over it. The look on the boy's face is priceless--if I'm the girl's dad, I'm getting a prospective restraining order yesterday.
Yup... it actually has a cricket pitch. You know what's great about cricket, other than the fact that it is yet another sport invented by white people at which they are now not exactly global leaders? The "tea interval," which is a British expression that means getting snockered in the middle of the interminable game.
A wider shot of campus, with Tolmie's aforementioned hill, in all its ruggedness, on the right side of the pic. I lived partway up the hill in Grade 12 (or twelfth grade, as the Americans say) and once "drove" to school without ever starting the car. I did have to blow through the stop sign on Richmond Road, but Richmond Road isn't exactly Yonge Street.
Back to the name thing: Victoria had a University School for about fifty years before it had an actual, you know, university. I can't swear to the complete veracity of the following, but believe that Victoria was promised the BC university and may have even gotten it, a few blocks down Richmond from University School, at what is now Camosun College. In the time-honoured tradition of sleazy BC politics, UBC ended up in the 'Couv, where it remains and where it has a nude beach (you got one of those, Harvard?). There's a McGill angle to all this:
The cute little birds in the red part of the crest are martlets, which don't actually, um, exist. There's some turgid English tradition about birds without feet who therefore can never land and are therefore always learning. Somehow, the martlets became associated with McGill, which is ironic because James McGill made his money by catching many, many very real beavers' very real feet in very real metal traps. Anyway, McGill had some role in the creation of UBC and UVic, and that's how the martlets ended up in the school crest. There's a plaque in the ground floor of the Leacock Building attesting to the BC connection.
PS: I have no idea what's going on with the fonts and spacing in this post. Sometimes, blogger tires my ass out.
These are, I presume, Junior School kids, judging by the short pants on buzzcut-boy. A couple of points: there were no girls at the Junior School, or the Middle School for that matter, when I was a student. I did not attend the Junior School, and don't believe I've ever even seen the place, which seems impossible, because Victoria ain't that big, and I lived and loved all over it. The look on the boy's face is priceless--if I'm the girl's dad, I'm getting a prospective restraining order yesterday.
Yup... it actually has a cricket pitch. You know what's great about cricket, other than the fact that it is yet another sport invented by white people at which they are now not exactly global leaders? The "tea interval," which is a British expression that means getting snockered in the middle of the interminable game.
A wider shot of campus, with Tolmie's aforementioned hill, in all its ruggedness, on the right side of the pic. I lived partway up the hill in Grade 12 (or twelfth grade, as the Americans say) and once "drove" to school without ever starting the car. I did have to blow through the stop sign on Richmond Road, but Richmond Road isn't exactly Yonge Street.
Back to the name thing: Victoria had a University School for about fifty years before it had an actual, you know, university. I can't swear to the complete veracity of the following, but believe that Victoria was promised the BC university and may have even gotten it, a few blocks down Richmond from University School, at what is now Camosun College. In the time-honoured tradition of sleazy BC politics, UBC ended up in the 'Couv, where it remains and where it has a nude beach (you got one of those, Harvard?). There's a McGill angle to all this:
The cute little birds in the red part of the crest are martlets, which don't actually, um, exist. There's some turgid English tradition about birds without feet who therefore can never land and are therefore always learning. Somehow, the martlets became associated with McGill, which is ironic because James McGill made his money by catching many, many very real beavers' very real feet in very real metal traps. Anyway, McGill had some role in the creation of UBC and UVic, and that's how the martlets ended up in the school crest. There's a plaque in the ground floor of the Leacock Building attesting to the BC connection.PS: I have no idea what's going on with the fonts and spacing in this post. Sometimes, blogger tires my ass out.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Bo Diddley Died...
... which is too bad. Quite a life!
http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/chi-bo-diddley,0,6515788.story
http://www.chicagotribune.com/entertainment/chi-bo-diddley,0,6515788.story
Friday, May 30, 2008
Do Not Try This at Home
Father Michael Pfleger is a complicated man, but it's not clear if no one understands him but his woman, who technically should be this chica. This little act probably won't do much harm, though it has succeeded in making Trinity United Church of Christ the most famous church you still really haven't heard of.
Pfather Pfleger has been the pastor of a South Side parish from hell for far longer than most RC priests are allowed, and it's tough to question his dedication to the cause--he has serious respect in the community, or much of it, as the congregants' reaction above suggests. Having said that, if the average white man (and I am nothing if not average white) tried this jive-turkey white-man-ghetto-screaming act in front of, say, a Harold's Chicken Shack, he'd get torn apart faster than a half regular, and rightly so!.
As is true with pretty much everything in life, The Wire offers a handy video solution, which I recommend to the good father.
Pfather Pfleger has been the pastor of a South Side parish from hell for far longer than most RC priests are allowed, and it's tough to question his dedication to the cause--he has serious respect in the community, or much of it, as the congregants' reaction above suggests. Having said that, if the average white man (and I am nothing if not average white) tried this jive-turkey white-man-ghetto-screaming act in front of, say, a Harold's Chicken Shack, he'd get torn apart faster than a half regular, and rightly so!.
As is true with pretty much everything in life, The Wire offers a handy video solution, which I recommend to the good father.
Jeez, is she having the whole brood at once?
I know it's twins, but wowzah! While it may be true that you can't be sort-of pregnant, clearly you can be very pregnant. Ole Clint ain't doing too bad for himself either.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The Russians Really Can't Do Shit
I couldn't make this up: I'd like to, to be honest, but I just couldn't. Seems the International Space Station needs a fix for its Cossack-constructed commode. I normally avoid scatological humour, but this was too good to pass up, especially after the whole adult-diaper, ahem, business a couple years back. Though I have not called seeking comment, I am sure that this is Priority Number Two at NASA.
K... I'll stop now.
K... I'll stop now.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Well, you can't read this book yet, but you should when you can!
Decorum prevents me from a full elucidation of the circumstances of our meeting, but I have known the author of this forthcoming tome for twenty years (almost to the day, come to think of it). He's younger than I, more successful than I, and a damn sight better-looking than I, but I still like him!
http://www.amazon.ca/Fire-Fury-Bombing-Germany-1942-1945/dp/0385664036/ref=sr_1_10?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1211481042&sr=8-10
http://www.amazon.ca/Fire-Fury-Bombing-Germany-1942-1945/dp/0385664036/ref=sr_1_10?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1211481042&sr=8-10
Read this book!
It's saucy! And well-written! And it's about Bubba, so there's plenty of naughty bits!
http://www.amazon.com/Clinton-Exile-President-White-House/dp/0061231592
http://www.amazon.com/Clinton-Exile-President-White-House/dp/0061231592
Sunday, May 18, 2008
The New, New South--House Version
Ed. note: I've tried to tighten this piece up, but I can't and need to post it and move on. I blame my Inner Meanderthal.
Just as "New Labour" (which surely can't be "new" after ten-plus stultifying years and one really bad war programme) appears to be circling the drain--see Cherie Blair's unbelievably bitchy memoirs and getting beaten by a Boris (in Britain!)--it seems that the Republicans might finally have screwed the golden pooch, aka the land of cotton, Dixie, the Solid South.
Those who know me personally join my global readership in understanding that I've been an Obama guy since before he announced for POTUS--any black man (half-black, quarter-black, one-drop-of-blood black, doesn't matter) who can blast through Chicago's Northwest Side wards against several white opponents is worth keeping an eye on. He'll prevail over Hillary, who seems not to have gotten several dozen memos, and as to McCain... well, have you actually seen McCain speak formally? Can you imagine what several months of prolonged exposure to that will do to the electorate?
But the President thing is always much less important than its coverage always makes it seem; the real news is down Pennsylvania Avenue, in that big building with the dome. After blowing former House Speaker Dennis Hastert's seat in Illinois, the Republicans have now lost two Southern special elections, one in the Louisiana 6th and the other in the Mississippi 1st. For those who may not know, House districts have long been drawn with one goal in mind: incumbent protection. And it works (somewhere around 325 to 350, at a minimum, of the 435 Congressmen have no chance of losing every other November).
On top of that, about twenty years ago, just as Morning in America was heading toward the lunch hour and the always-welcome afternoon nap, the Republicans came up with the evil genius of majority-minority districts. The premise was simple: a smallish percentage of a given state's districts would be drawn so as to be packed with dead-cert Democratic voters, often minorities, which meant that the rest of that state's districts would be more Republican-leaning. And how did the Grand Old Partiers wrap up this Pyrrhic present? By emphasizing that the House of Representatives would see a marked increase in the number of minority members, which--sho' 'nuff--it did (and does). The Democratic big brains of the day were between the Scylla and Charybdis of losing power and racial insensitivity, so they put up minimal and flaccid resistance, and ended up losing AND being racially insensitive. This was the kind of thing that was either a cause or an effect (or both) of the Democratic Leadership Council's rise to prominence, which brought us Bubba and now Hillary, whom Barack will.... sorry, I digress. I guess I`ve got an official mancrush.
Anyway, these goofy districts can look like this:
What looks like it might be a TVA-created waterway is actually Mel Watt's district, designed more or less to pack in as many black North Carolinians as possible. The pictured district is actually an improvement--the original version went all the way to the Virginia border and was for several dozen miles no wider than an Interstate. You replicate this kind of bullshit nationwide, and you've got yourself a recipe to win the House, which operates on a strict 50%-plus-one rule, gives a rat's ass about seniority, and originates all money bills. The Commander-in-Chief can finger-wag and bully-pulpit until he's blue in the face (or wherever Clinton got blue), and the Senate can collegially do nothing for weeks on end in order of tenure, but the House... baby, that's golden.
All of this is, of course, predicated on not going out of your way to poke your base in the, um, base. In the case of the Republicans, there is widespread disenchantment among the baby-loving evangelicals, who cannot forgive the Harriet Miers Supreme Court business, even though it was almost certainly a stalking horse. There is real hesitation in that crowd about direct involvement with electoral politics, and the travails of Republican legislators Mark Foley (too pagey), David Vitter (too whorey), and Vito Fossella (two families!) hardly helped. The "fiscal conservatives" are exasperated as well--Bush43 (or "Smirky" as a friend of mine dubbed him) spends money even more intemperately than Reagan did, the dollar is flat on its greenback, oil costs a fortune, the number of homeless people is rivaled only by the number of peopleless homes, etc. I am not aware that the gun crowd has any real beefs in recent years; I mean, Cheney even shot somebody, which a veep hadn't done in over 200 years! The strong-on-defense sector, meanwhile, is torn: nothing makes them happier than slapping a "Support Our Troops" sticker on their SUVs, but a decent number really object to the Iraqi adventure and every mother-lovin' one of them is deeply pissed about the way veterans are treated, from the Walter Reed nightmares to the dithering over the New G.I. Bill.
It is not especially likely that legions of these folks will rush to vote for the nearest Democrat, though both Heath Shuler and Don Cazayoux got themselves elected from highly-conservative Southern districts. What is so likely as to be inevitable is that many of them won't donate, organize, volunteer, register voters, etc. What is so likely as to be inevitable is that the NRCC will be obliged to spend good money to protect "safe" districts that have become "competitive." What is so likely as to be inevitable is that nobody in either party or the media has any empirically-supported idea what having a black Presidential candidate will do for turnout, especially in the South, and on both sides of the racial divide.
Right now, there are 236 Democrats and 199 Republicans in the House, a decent 54-46% lead for the donkeys. With all of the factors noted above, a pickup of 25 seats in 2008 is not at all unlikely, with about half of those coming in the South. That won't come close to a veto override, but it does reach the magic 60% threshold. Why magic, you ask? Stay tuned...
Just as "New Labour" (which surely can't be "new" after ten-plus stultifying years and one really bad war programme) appears to be circling the drain--see Cherie Blair's unbelievably bitchy memoirs and getting beaten by a Boris (in Britain!)--it seems that the Republicans might finally have screwed the golden pooch, aka the land of cotton, Dixie, the Solid South.
Those who know me personally join my global readership in understanding that I've been an Obama guy since before he announced for POTUS--any black man (half-black, quarter-black, one-drop-of-blood black, doesn't matter) who can blast through Chicago's Northwest Side wards against several white opponents is worth keeping an eye on. He'll prevail over Hillary, who seems not to have gotten several dozen memos, and as to McCain... well, have you actually seen McCain speak formally? Can you imagine what several months of prolonged exposure to that will do to the electorate?
But the President thing is always much less important than its coverage always makes it seem; the real news is down Pennsylvania Avenue, in that big building with the dome. After blowing former House Speaker Dennis Hastert's seat in Illinois, the Republicans have now lost two Southern special elections, one in the Louisiana 6th and the other in the Mississippi 1st. For those who may not know, House districts have long been drawn with one goal in mind: incumbent protection. And it works (somewhere around 325 to 350, at a minimum, of the 435 Congressmen have no chance of losing every other November).
On top of that, about twenty years ago, just as Morning in America was heading toward the lunch hour and the always-welcome afternoon nap, the Republicans came up with the evil genius of majority-minority districts. The premise was simple: a smallish percentage of a given state's districts would be drawn so as to be packed with dead-cert Democratic voters, often minorities, which meant that the rest of that state's districts would be more Republican-leaning. And how did the Grand Old Partiers wrap up this Pyrrhic present? By emphasizing that the House of Representatives would see a marked increase in the number of minority members, which--sho' 'nuff--it did (and does). The Democratic big brains of the day were between the Scylla and Charybdis of losing power and racial insensitivity, so they put up minimal and flaccid resistance, and ended up losing AND being racially insensitive. This was the kind of thing that was either a cause or an effect (or both) of the Democratic Leadership Council's rise to prominence, which brought us Bubba and now Hillary, whom Barack will.... sorry, I digress. I guess I`ve got an official mancrush.
Anyway, these goofy districts can look like this:
What looks like it might be a TVA-created waterway is actually Mel Watt's district, designed more or less to pack in as many black North Carolinians as possible. The pictured district is actually an improvement--the original version went all the way to the Virginia border and was for several dozen miles no wider than an Interstate. You replicate this kind of bullshit nationwide, and you've got yourself a recipe to win the House, which operates on a strict 50%-plus-one rule, gives a rat's ass about seniority, and originates all money bills. The Commander-in-Chief can finger-wag and bully-pulpit until he's blue in the face (or wherever Clinton got blue), and the Senate can collegially do nothing for weeks on end in order of tenure, but the House... baby, that's golden.
All of this is, of course, predicated on not going out of your way to poke your base in the, um, base. In the case of the Republicans, there is widespread disenchantment among the baby-loving evangelicals, who cannot forgive the Harriet Miers Supreme Court business, even though it was almost certainly a stalking horse. There is real hesitation in that crowd about direct involvement with electoral politics, and the travails of Republican legislators Mark Foley (too pagey), David Vitter (too whorey), and Vito Fossella (two families!) hardly helped. The "fiscal conservatives" are exasperated as well--Bush43 (or "Smirky" as a friend of mine dubbed him) spends money even more intemperately than Reagan did, the dollar is flat on its greenback, oil costs a fortune, the number of homeless people is rivaled only by the number of peopleless homes, etc. I am not aware that the gun crowd has any real beefs in recent years; I mean, Cheney even shot somebody, which a veep hadn't done in over 200 years! The strong-on-defense sector, meanwhile, is torn: nothing makes them happier than slapping a "Support Our Troops" sticker on their SUVs, but a decent number really object to the Iraqi adventure and every mother-lovin' one of them is deeply pissed about the way veterans are treated, from the Walter Reed nightmares to the dithering over the New G.I. Bill.
It is not especially likely that legions of these folks will rush to vote for the nearest Democrat, though both Heath Shuler and Don Cazayoux got themselves elected from highly-conservative Southern districts. What is so likely as to be inevitable is that many of them won't donate, organize, volunteer, register voters, etc. What is so likely as to be inevitable is that the NRCC will be obliged to spend good money to protect "safe" districts that have become "competitive." What is so likely as to be inevitable is that nobody in either party or the media has any empirically-supported idea what having a black Presidential candidate will do for turnout, especially in the South, and on both sides of the racial divide.
Right now, there are 236 Democrats and 199 Republicans in the House, a decent 54-46% lead for the donkeys. With all of the factors noted above, a pickup of 25 seats in 2008 is not at all unlikely, with about half of those coming in the South. That won't come close to a veto override, but it does reach the magic 60% threshold. Why magic, you ask? Stay tuned...
Goddamnit!
Foreign Policy and Prospect just put out this year's version of their Top 100 Public Intellectuals and, once again, there is a conspicuous gap between "Cardoso" and "Chomsky." Noted feminist Lawrence Summers made it, for pete's sake! I am somewhat consoled by the fact that the list does include both the current and (most recent) former main squeeze of someone who'd really love to be on it, but isn't. Tender mercies...
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Article II, Section 1
Here's a weird tidbit: Senator McCain was born in the former Canal Zone, but is associated with Arizona. The last nominee from the Grand Canyon State was Barry (see? it all comes together!) Goldwater, who was born before Arizona was a state. Meanwhile, if Senator Obama's parents hadn't been so goll-durned shy, he might have been born before Hawaii was a state (he, or I guess they, missed by just under two years). All of this ties into the natural-born citizen requirement for the Presidency, which might well have outlived its usefulness. 28th Amendment, anyone?
My guy's taller...
and I don't mean lying down!
It is true that seven of the forty-two men to have been President have been left-handed (Garfield, Hoover, Truman, Ford, Reagan, Bush41, Clinton), and it is also true that the University of Chicago and Hyde Park/Kenwood boast a ferocious number of lefties (in both senses, I guess). However, those connections are not Senator Obama's secret weapon, despite his being a left-handed, U of C-employed Kenwood resident. Besides, Senator McCain is left-handed too.
Nope, the stone-cold lead-pipe lock, as the touts like to say, is that Obama is tall, where "tall" is defined as over six feet (Barry is 6' 1.5"). Simply put, if you're tall and from Illinois, you're President, whereas if you're not tall and from Illinois, thanks for playing. History backs me up here--Honest Abe is still the tallest Prez ever, at 6' 4" without the hat. And where did he call home? Illinois! Meanwhile, Stephen Douglas and Adlai Stevenson, the only two Illinoisans to lose Presidential elections as real-ticket nominees (poor ole' Adlai did it twice), clocked in at 5' 4" (!!!) and 5' 10". If you want the full list, you can bet some Wikipedian has provided it.
Yeah, yeah, I know Senator Clinton, unlike Obama, is actually from Illinois, but I am going with the "place of primary affiliation" angle, so HRC is from New Yarkansas and Obama is from the Land of Lincoln. Screw Wilkie, Grant, Reagan, and the other wannabes.
Full disclosure: I am short, though not Stephen Douglas-short (I'm 5' 6"). I am right-handed, but bat and play golf and racket sports (badly in all cases) from the left side. However, a preposterous percentage of my lady friends have been lefties, including--wait for it--one who was born in Kenwood... to two left-handed parents! I am also, at least until the revolution, constitutionally ineligible for the Presidency, which is good news for all of us. Finally, I am a former U of C student and employee, and a former resident of both HP and K.
It is true that seven of the forty-two men to have been President have been left-handed (Garfield, Hoover, Truman, Ford, Reagan, Bush41, Clinton), and it is also true that the University of Chicago and Hyde Park/Kenwood boast a ferocious number of lefties (in both senses, I guess). However, those connections are not Senator Obama's secret weapon, despite his being a left-handed, U of C-employed Kenwood resident. Besides, Senator McCain is left-handed too.
Nope, the stone-cold lead-pipe lock, as the touts like to say, is that Obama is tall, where "tall" is defined as over six feet (Barry is 6' 1.5"). Simply put, if you're tall and from Illinois, you're President, whereas if you're not tall and from Illinois, thanks for playing. History backs me up here--Honest Abe is still the tallest Prez ever, at 6' 4" without the hat. And where did he call home? Illinois! Meanwhile, Stephen Douglas and Adlai Stevenson, the only two Illinoisans to lose Presidential elections as real-ticket nominees (poor ole' Adlai did it twice), clocked in at 5' 4" (!!!) and 5' 10". If you want the full list, you can bet some Wikipedian has provided it.
Yeah, yeah, I know Senator Clinton, unlike Obama, is actually from Illinois, but I am going with the "place of primary affiliation" angle, so HRC is from New Yarkansas and Obama is from the Land of Lincoln. Screw Wilkie, Grant, Reagan, and the other wannabes.
Full disclosure: I am short, though not Stephen Douglas-short (I'm 5' 6"). I am right-handed, but bat and play golf and racket sports (badly in all cases) from the left side. However, a preposterous percentage of my lady friends have been lefties, including--wait for it--one who was born in Kenwood... to two left-handed parents! I am also, at least until the revolution, constitutionally ineligible for the Presidency, which is good news for all of us. Finally, I am a former U of C student and employee, and a former resident of both HP and K.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Ahhhhh.... The Wire
Those in the know are well aware that I am a rather pathological viewer and critic of television. Ironically enough, I do not currently have either a TV or cable or any particular plan to acquire either. However, I've watched plenty in my day. Thankfully, DVDs are available nowadays, so I can get my fix with a phone number and five Canuck bucks.
I started watching The Wire when it first aired in 2002. It is, quite simply, the best thing ever put on television to which I have been exposed. I know about Seinfeld, M*A*S*H, The Dick van Dyke Show, NYPD Blue, The Sopranos, The Simpsons, Nightline, The Fugitive, The Honeymooners and Edward R. Murrow and the rest. They're all good, but they're not The Wire. I am seriously considering doing a scene-by-scene analysis of the show.
I started watching The Wire when it first aired in 2002. It is, quite simply, the best thing ever put on television to which I have been exposed. I know about Seinfeld, M*A*S*H, The Dick van Dyke Show, NYPD Blue, The Sopranos, The Simpsons, Nightline, The Fugitive, The Honeymooners and Edward R. Murrow and the rest. They're all good, but they're not The Wire. I am seriously considering doing a scene-by-scene analysis of the show.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Well, Hello!
Or should that be wello, hello? Anyhoo, I'm either new to you, new and improved, or back and badder and bigger and blacker than ever... oh wait, I'm not black. I am at least back, bad, and big (or so I think).
I'll start off slowly, I expect, but can be expected to fulminate fulsomely on a range of topics of endless interest to me, and thus to you!
I was going to fire up this bad boy a bit earlier, but had trouble coming up with a name. One, "Acting as if dot blogspot dot com", was too much of an inside joke, while "And the horse you rode in on dot blogspot dot com" was a trifle too long, though it well expresses my general outlook.
Bookmark me! I'm worth it!
I'll start off slowly, I expect, but can be expected to fulminate fulsomely on a range of topics of endless interest to me, and thus to you!
I was going to fire up this bad boy a bit earlier, but had trouble coming up with a name. One, "Acting as if dot blogspot dot com", was too much of an inside joke, while "And the horse you rode in on dot blogspot dot com" was a trifle too long, though it well expresses my general outlook.
Bookmark me! I'm worth it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
