Hey Jack! Fuck You! And Rudy, Fuck You Too!

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.

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!

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.

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

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.

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.

When words are no longer enough...