Original Post (1:20 PM PDT, October 25, 2004):
The In-laws made their weekly phone contact with the Feared redhead last night, and had a bit of news that has me smiling.
They just got back recently from a trip to Spain (I know, I'm not fond of current Spanish politics either, but they have old family friends their and were attending a wedding. The Spaniards are gracious people, even if their current government lacks cojones) and England.
At the wedding, the guests all received a reception gift. My father-in-law saved his and brought it home, and is going to send it to me. The gift was a Cuban cigar. Again, not a fan of the politics in its country of origin, "but a good cigar is a smoke", to borrow from Kipling.
There was one moment of horror as they discussed shipping arrangements with T.F.R., who told them that a padded envelope should provide sufficient protection. *Cue movie sound effect: deep, slow-motion sound of me screaming, "NnnnnOooo.....!!!!!"* Suffice it to say, I swiftly put paid to that bit of misinformation.
So today in class, I was thinking of that cigar, and then remembered the other lovely gift I recently received from T.F.R. -- namely, the bottle of Laphroaig 10-Year. And it dawned on me that it won't be long before I'm reclining on the back porch, a dram of the Water of Life in one hand, and a cheroot in the other.
The beatific smile that crept across my face, well, you should have seen it.
Update (2:06 PM PST, October 31, 2004):
The cigar arrived on Thursday. Not just any Cuban cigar -- a Cohiba.
Let the eating out of hearts commence.
I do hope November 2nd provides me a good reason to enjoy it.
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Today I Am A Blogger
As I don't have a computer at home, most of my blogging is done at work. But this weekend we're visiting the Feared Redhead's sister and her husband, and I'm blogging from their house. So I finally get to do something I've been wanting to do since the CBS/Memogate days. I'm blogging in my pajamas.
I feel like I should be Bar Mitzvah'ed or something.
I feel like I should be Bar Mitzvah'ed or something.
Shut Up and Act, Reprise
More fodder supporting my opinion that those whose careers are to recite the wrtten thoughts of others, but with feeling, should not be our primary sources of advice on matters requiring independent thought:
First, Woody Harrelson was here in Eugene to promote his new film "Go Further", a paean to Ken Kesey (a local native and neo-hippie saint) and his Merry Pranksters. Let's not get me started on the fact that Eugene has seen fit to erect a statue of Kesey downtown, depicting him reading a book to two young children. Too late, I'm started. What the hell is the book in Kesey's hand supposed to be -- The Electric Acid Kool-aid Test??????
*Deep Breath*
Anyway, of course the local TV station intervewed Woody. I really can't recall much of the specifics of what he said, it was pretty much standard fare for your more ecologically radical leftist personae. Nothing new, and nothing very well aerticulated. What struck myself and the Feared Redhead was just how appropriate it was that the news mentioned that Harrelson is a big proponent of the use of hemp, since it seemed apparent from his slurred speech and disjointed sentence structure that he's definitely practicing what he preaches.
Kesey would be proud.
Secondly, thanks for the memory to Debbie Schlussel via John Kerry for President? You Must Be Joking:
Apparently, in a recent interview with a French publication (go figure), Nobel Laureate Patrick Swayze was using his clout as an expert on Middle East affairs to criticize President Bush's handling of Iraq. Swayze's credentials?
“I know a great deal about the Middle East because I’ve been raising Arabian horses,” he said.
No, I'm not kidding. I wish I was.
Schlussel really delivers some zingers:
"Does consuming wontons at a Chinese restaurant make you an expert on Sino-American relations?
Patrick Swayze thinks so."
"Swayze’s just like every other annoying, liberal Hollywood airhead who thinks they understand the Middle East because, like Swayze, they raise Arabian horses, ate falafel once, or bought a Moroccan necklace at Kitson. They “understand” and sympathize with those who hate us because, after all, they once used an Arabic waterpipe instead of a bong to get high.
Swayze, a pan-Arabist, encompasses the “I’m not a doctor but I play one on TV” ethos."
Usually I get annoyed when celebrities pull this. But given what a has-been Swayze is, I'm more inclined to just find the thing sadly amusing.
First, Woody Harrelson was here in Eugene to promote his new film "Go Further", a paean to Ken Kesey (a local native and neo-hippie saint) and his Merry Pranksters. Let's not get me started on the fact that Eugene has seen fit to erect a statue of Kesey downtown, depicting him reading a book to two young children. Too late, I'm started. What the hell is the book in Kesey's hand supposed to be -- The Electric Acid Kool-aid Test??????
*Deep Breath*
Anyway, of course the local TV station intervewed Woody. I really can't recall much of the specifics of what he said, it was pretty much standard fare for your more ecologically radical leftist personae. Nothing new, and nothing very well aerticulated. What struck myself and the Feared Redhead was just how appropriate it was that the news mentioned that Harrelson is a big proponent of the use of hemp, since it seemed apparent from his slurred speech and disjointed sentence structure that he's definitely practicing what he preaches.
Kesey would be proud.
Secondly, thanks for the memory to Debbie Schlussel via John Kerry for President? You Must Be Joking:
Apparently, in a recent interview with a French publication (go figure), Nobel Laureate Patrick Swayze was using his clout as an expert on Middle East affairs to criticize President Bush's handling of Iraq. Swayze's credentials?
“I know a great deal about the Middle East because I’ve been raising Arabian horses,” he said.
No, I'm not kidding. I wish I was.
Schlussel really delivers some zingers:
"Does consuming wontons at a Chinese restaurant make you an expert on Sino-American relations?
Patrick Swayze thinks so."
"Swayze’s just like every other annoying, liberal Hollywood airhead who thinks they understand the Middle East because, like Swayze, they raise Arabian horses, ate falafel once, or bought a Moroccan necklace at Kitson. They “understand” and sympathize with those who hate us because, after all, they once used an Arabic waterpipe instead of a bong to get high.
Swayze, a pan-Arabist, encompasses the “I’m not a doctor but I play one on TV” ethos."
Usually I get annoyed when celebrities pull this. But given what a has-been Swayze is, I'm more inclined to just find the thing sadly amusing.
Hope for the Future
Thanks for the Memory to Blogs for Bush:
The above link to B4B is to an essay in their "Thank you President Bush" thread written by Ian Schwartz. It's a very well-written and heartwarming essay.
What's most heartening is the first line of the essay:
I am a 16 year old attending a Catholic High School in Baltimore, Maryland.
Sixteen freaking years old and he's already showing more political astuteness and more eloquence than many people twice his age.
Oh, and he has his own blog.
If this is the caliber of young person coming through the pipes right now, I am suddenly a little less nervous about the odds of my retirement years being spent in a free country.
The above link to B4B is to an essay in their "Thank you President Bush" thread written by Ian Schwartz. It's a very well-written and heartwarming essay.
What's most heartening is the first line of the essay:
I am a 16 year old attending a Catholic High School in Baltimore, Maryland.
Sixteen freaking years old and he's already showing more political astuteness and more eloquence than many people twice his age.
Oh, and he has his own blog.
If this is the caliber of young person coming through the pipes right now, I am suddenly a little less nervous about the odds of my retirement years being spent in a free country.
Just in Time for Halloween:
Skeletons in Lurch's Closet
Update:
Thanks for the Memory to the Jawa Report:
The Swifties are releasing their info tomorrow:
STOP THE MADNESS- LEARN THE TRUTH
MARCH ON WASHINGTON
TO STOP JOHN KERRY
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2004
1 PM * Naval Archives
2 PM STEPS OF THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL
Join the thousands of veterans, active duty
and every day warriors in a
MARCH FOR TRUTH
(Original Post, 1:46 PM PDT, October 29, 2004):
Thanks for the Memory to Blogfather Rusty at the Jawa Report. He's following rumors that the Swift Boat Vets are about to release a final "October Surprise", and promises an update as the news breaks.
In the meantime he links to a Bullpen interview with Swiftie supporter Troy Jenkins regarding coordination between the VC and anti-Vietnam Protest Literature, particularly that associated with VVAW (guess who?). Very interesting stuff.
I really have tried to avoid saying much about Kerry's service record, since I'm not a vet. But this also has to do with activities after his enlistment, and with his overall fitness to command the defense of a nation he may have betrayed. Even without the myriad of issues on which I disagree with the senator. this is enough in my eyes to disqualify him as POTUS.
Update:
Thanks for the Memory to the Jawa Report:
The Swifties are releasing their info tomorrow:
STOP THE MADNESS- LEARN THE TRUTH
MARCH ON WASHINGTON
TO STOP JOHN KERRY
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2004
1 PM * Naval Archives
2 PM STEPS OF THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL
Join the thousands of veterans, active duty
and every day warriors in a
MARCH FOR TRUTH
(Original Post, 1:46 PM PDT, October 29, 2004):
Thanks for the Memory to Blogfather Rusty at the Jawa Report. He's following rumors that the Swift Boat Vets are about to release a final "October Surprise", and promises an update as the news breaks.
In the meantime he links to a Bullpen interview with Swiftie supporter Troy Jenkins regarding coordination between the VC and anti-Vietnam Protest Literature, particularly that associated with VVAW (guess who?). Very interesting stuff.
I really have tried to avoid saying much about Kerry's service record, since I'm not a vet. But this also has to do with activities after his enlistment, and with his overall fitness to command the defense of a nation he may have betrayed. Even without the myriad of issues on which I disagree with the senator. this is enough in my eyes to disqualify him as POTUS.
Stampede!
Today was a typical blustery, windy, often rainy Oregon day. Very typical for this time of year here. But something caught my eye at one point as it was windy but not rainy.
the street in front of our house runs in the same direction as the wind happened to be blowing at that moment. As the empty street suddenly filled with a wave of fall leaves, all rolling and tumbling and jostling each other down the street, and then gone, it reminded me of an old western movie where the cattle drive comes to town. Yup, pardner, it wasright out of "The Cowboys", and I expected to see John Wayne's ghost following the leaves down the street on a horse, whistling and yelling "Heeyah!" as he rode. Maybe, just maybe, I did.
the street in front of our house runs in the same direction as the wind happened to be blowing at that moment. As the empty street suddenly filled with a wave of fall leaves, all rolling and tumbling and jostling each other down the street, and then gone, it reminded me of an old western movie where the cattle drive comes to town. Yup, pardner, it wasright out of "The Cowboys", and I expected to see John Wayne's ghost following the leaves down the street on a horse, whistling and yelling "Heeyah!" as he rode. Maybe, just maybe, I did.
Friday, October 29, 2004
He'd Take Me Out to the Ball Game
Now that the shouting is over and everyone has had a chance to either gloat or tell people to shut up already about the curse, I thought I'd finally blog about the World Series.
As I've sai in comments elsewhere, if you're a baseball fan, and not a Yankees or Cards fan, you HAD to be happy with the outcome of this series. This was baseball history. I grew up a baseball fan, and to a lesser extent, a fan of the red sox. no, they weren't my team, but they were the only AL team I'd root for. ee, for me, it's about the game.
My father instilled in me a love of baseball. He started perhaps, for his own mental health, a bit too early -- a mistake I plan to repeat. When I was but 4 or 5, he would take me to Eugene Emeralds games. They were back then a Phillies farm team. He had seasons tickets.
By the middle of the second, I'd be ready for pop, candy, and popcorn. He'd trek to the concessions stand, sacrifice a half an inning getting me treats. By the end of the fourth I was ready to go home. The fact that I was never abused as a child is a testament to my father's longsuffering.
As was the fact that he perservered, and eventually won me over. He coached my sister's little league softball team. He announced my high school's games. He weatched games with me on TV, and when we could go, he especially loved watching the game in person. Not being athletic, I never played, but he taught me to watch. He taught me that there was more to see than the battery. He taught me the subtle nuances of fielder positioning based on inning, score, runners, hitter, and count.
In baseball, and in life, my father was teacher, supporter, example, and especially, friend. In fact he was my best friend. As close as my other dear friends are, none has ever been the source of love, acceptance, and support htat my father was. In July of 2001, I stepped into his RV to find him dead. It was the worst day of my life.
So there I sat all this past week, watching the Boston Red sox win the world Series. God, who thought they'd ever utter those words? I sat there with a pregnant wife, who thanks to my enthusiasm and this Series is now a baseball fan herself, and who carries a future fan. We watched, hearts in mouths, game by game, inning by inning, past all the false alarms raised by the cards, as the Sox strode inexorably towards their goal. Trhilled, wanting to believe our eyes, but not trusting our hearts, for fear they'd break if it wasn't true. and then it happened. A short hopper to the mound, a cautious pitcher carrying the ball halfway to first to avoid another Bill Buckner moment, an underhanded toss, and it was over. The words generations of Red sox fans, hell, BASEBALL fans, have waited so long to utter: The Red Sox are World Champions!
And then it dawned on me. My father never ever in his life saw the Red Sox win the Series. And as much as he loved this sport, he dearly would have loved this week. As much as I love my wife, the one person in this world I wanted to be there wasn't. Not over the phone, not in the same room. And so, for a moment, the joy was tempered with sadness, and yes, I admit shedding tears. But they did not drown out the joy. I continued to celebrate, but now I celebrate for my father too. He would have been cheering just as loudly.
As I've sai in comments elsewhere, if you're a baseball fan, and not a Yankees or Cards fan, you HAD to be happy with the outcome of this series. This was baseball history. I grew up a baseball fan, and to a lesser extent, a fan of the red sox. no, they weren't my team, but they were the only AL team I'd root for. ee, for me, it's about the game.
My father instilled in me a love of baseball. He started perhaps, for his own mental health, a bit too early -- a mistake I plan to repeat. When I was but 4 or 5, he would take me to Eugene Emeralds games. They were back then a Phillies farm team. He had seasons tickets.
By the middle of the second, I'd be ready for pop, candy, and popcorn. He'd trek to the concessions stand, sacrifice a half an inning getting me treats. By the end of the fourth I was ready to go home. The fact that I was never abused as a child is a testament to my father's longsuffering.
As was the fact that he perservered, and eventually won me over. He coached my sister's little league softball team. He announced my high school's games. He weatched games with me on TV, and when we could go, he especially loved watching the game in person. Not being athletic, I never played, but he taught me to watch. He taught me that there was more to see than the battery. He taught me the subtle nuances of fielder positioning based on inning, score, runners, hitter, and count.
In baseball, and in life, my father was teacher, supporter, example, and especially, friend. In fact he was my best friend. As close as my other dear friends are, none has ever been the source of love, acceptance, and support htat my father was. In July of 2001, I stepped into his RV to find him dead. It was the worst day of my life.
So there I sat all this past week, watching the Boston Red sox win the world Series. God, who thought they'd ever utter those words? I sat there with a pregnant wife, who thanks to my enthusiasm and this Series is now a baseball fan herself, and who carries a future fan. We watched, hearts in mouths, game by game, inning by inning, past all the false alarms raised by the cards, as the Sox strode inexorably towards their goal. Trhilled, wanting to believe our eyes, but not trusting our hearts, for fear they'd break if it wasn't true. and then it happened. A short hopper to the mound, a cautious pitcher carrying the ball halfway to first to avoid another Bill Buckner moment, an underhanded toss, and it was over. The words generations of Red sox fans, hell, BASEBALL fans, have waited so long to utter: The Red Sox are World Champions!
And then it dawned on me. My father never ever in his life saw the Red Sox win the Series. And as much as he loved this sport, he dearly would have loved this week. As much as I love my wife, the one person in this world I wanted to be there wasn't. Not over the phone, not in the same room. And so, for a moment, the joy was tempered with sadness, and yes, I admit shedding tears. But they did not drown out the joy. I continued to celebrate, but now I celebrate for my father too. He would have been cheering just as loudly.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Playing My Ace Card
Thanks for the Memory to Way Off Bass:
Orson Scott Card is one of the best Science Fiction writers currently writing. One of the reasons for this is that he knows his stuff when it comes to Science Fact. The other is that he doesn't let his knowledge get in the way of good storytelling.
Along with being an excellent writer and a highly intelligent man, OSC is also unabashedly libertarian/conservative in his political views, despite being a registered Democrat. Happily for us, he combines all of these qualities by writing as a columnist for a website called the Ornery American. Recently my friend Cameron at Way Off Bass pointed out two very excellent essays by Mr. Card.
The first is called Dumb Science,Kerry's Religion and touches on issues of faith, science, and politics. Very good stuff.
The second, and the one both Cameron and I believe to be the most important of the two, is The Death of Shame. It touches on issues I've highlighted on this blog, namely the willingness of the Left to engage in the very kinds of unethical behavior that they decry in others, and their willingness to do whatever it takes to stay in power. Card expresses the outrage and frustration many of us in the middle and on the right feel over this, far more eloquently than my halting efforts. I encourage you all to go read this essay, before you go to vote, and think about it when you watch the events that unfold in the days leading up to the election.
UPDATE:
Ace of Spades HQ has more information on how the Democrats plan to live up to Card's accusations. If this is true, then one has to ask oneself, what is a higher priority to the Democrats: the good of this country, or their own power? And where does the line between free speech protected dissent and blatant sedition get crossed? They seem intent at BEST to edge as close to it as possible.
Orson Scott Card is one of the best Science Fiction writers currently writing. One of the reasons for this is that he knows his stuff when it comes to Science Fact. The other is that he doesn't let his knowledge get in the way of good storytelling.
Along with being an excellent writer and a highly intelligent man, OSC is also unabashedly libertarian/conservative in his political views, despite being a registered Democrat. Happily for us, he combines all of these qualities by writing as a columnist for a website called the Ornery American. Recently my friend Cameron at Way Off Bass pointed out two very excellent essays by Mr. Card.
The first is called Dumb Science,Kerry's Religion and touches on issues of faith, science, and politics. Very good stuff.
The second, and the one both Cameron and I believe to be the most important of the two, is The Death of Shame. It touches on issues I've highlighted on this blog, namely the willingness of the Left to engage in the very kinds of unethical behavior that they decry in others, and their willingness to do whatever it takes to stay in power. Card expresses the outrage and frustration many of us in the middle and on the right feel over this, far more eloquently than my halting efforts. I encourage you all to go read this essay, before you go to vote, and think about it when you watch the events that unfold in the days leading up to the election.
UPDATE:
Ace of Spades HQ has more information on how the Democrats plan to live up to Card's accusations. If this is true, then one has to ask oneself, what is a higher priority to the Democrats: the good of this country, or their own power? And where does the line between free speech protected dissent and blatant sedition get crossed? They seem intent at BEST to edge as close to it as possible.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Gut Check Time
Thanks for the Memory to Drudge via Vultures Row:
Update:
Blogs for Bush links to the Drudge Article, and also has related news.
XXXXX DRUDGE REPORT XXXXX WED OCT 27, 2004 12:42:01 ET XXXXX
ABCNEWS HOLDS TERROR WARNING TAPE
**Exclusive**
In the last week before the election, ABCNEWS is holding a videotaped message from a purported al Qaeda terrorist warning of a new attack on America, the DRUDGE REPORT has learned.
The terrorist claims on tape the next attack will dwarf 9/11. "The streets will run with blood," and "America will mourn in silence" because they will be unable to count the number of the dead. Further claims: America has brought this on itself for electing George Bush who has made war on Islam by destroying the Taliban and making war on Al Qaeda.
You can read the rest over at Drudge.
Well, the terrorists can't make it any blunter, can they? They hate George Bush, they want anyone but Bush in office. So what do they do? They try to pull a Spain on us, and blackmail us into defeating Bush.
Just to note, for once I have some respect for the MSM. According to Drudge, "ABCNEWS strongly denies holding the tape back from broadcast over political concerns during the last days of the election." Whatever their reasons for holding back the tape, they were right to do so. If they planned on airing it prior to 11/02, I retract my respect. Airing the tape rpior to the election does exactly what the Terrorists wanted -- offers us an ultimatum.
So what's it going to be, America? Do we cave in, and show the terrorists that all they have to do is threaten us, and we'll give in to their demands, or do we grow a spine and tell them where to shove it? It's gut check time. Are we Free men, or are we serfs to the demands of murderous mullahs?
My response? Well, I'll borrow from a far more praiseworthy American:
I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!
Update:
Blogs for Bush links to the Drudge Article, and also has related news.
XXXXX DRUDGE REPORT XXXXX WED OCT 27, 2004 12:42:01 ET XXXXX
ABCNEWS HOLDS TERROR WARNING TAPE
**Exclusive**
In the last week before the election, ABCNEWS is holding a videotaped message from a purported al Qaeda terrorist warning of a new attack on America, the DRUDGE REPORT has learned.
The terrorist claims on tape the next attack will dwarf 9/11. "The streets will run with blood," and "America will mourn in silence" because they will be unable to count the number of the dead. Further claims: America has brought this on itself for electing George Bush who has made war on Islam by destroying the Taliban and making war on Al Qaeda.
You can read the rest over at Drudge.
Well, the terrorists can't make it any blunter, can they? They hate George Bush, they want anyone but Bush in office. So what do they do? They try to pull a Spain on us, and blackmail us into defeating Bush.
Just to note, for once I have some respect for the MSM. According to Drudge, "ABCNEWS strongly denies holding the tape back from broadcast over political concerns during the last days of the election." Whatever their reasons for holding back the tape, they were right to do so. If they planned on airing it prior to 11/02, I retract my respect. Airing the tape rpior to the election does exactly what the Terrorists wanted -- offers us an ultimatum.
So what's it going to be, America? Do we cave in, and show the terrorists that all they have to do is threaten us, and we'll give in to their demands, or do we grow a spine and tell them where to shove it? It's gut check time. Are we Free men, or are we serfs to the demands of murderous mullahs?
My response? Well, I'll borrow from a far more praiseworthy American:
I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!
Scotland the Brave
Thanks for the Memory to my mom.
According to Britain's Ministry of Defense, 850 British soldiers, mostly from the Black Watch, are joining the party in the Sunni Triangle.
According to the Reuters article, the plan is for the Scots to take over for American troops already there, freeing up the US forces for a major push on Fallujah.
As a military history buff and one with Scottish ancestry, I'm proud of the friendship between the United States and Great Britain, and I wish the Regiment good luck in Iraq. stay safe, lads, and may the terrorists learn from bitter experience just why your enemies nicknamed you the "Ladies from Hell".
According to Britain's Ministry of Defense, 850 British soldiers, mostly from the Black Watch, are joining the party in the Sunni Triangle.
According to the Reuters article, the plan is for the Scots to take over for American troops already there, freeing up the US forces for a major push on Fallujah.
As a military history buff and one with Scottish ancestry, I'm proud of the friendship between the United States and Great Britain, and I wish the Regiment good luck in Iraq. stay safe, lads, and may the terrorists learn from bitter experience just why your enemies nicknamed you the "Ladies from Hell".
Tonight on a Very Special
Blogs for Bush (not Blossom, sorry):
Matt Margolis interviews Richard Miniter, author of "Shadow War."
This is an important interview, good food for thought if you care about the War on Terrorism.
Matt Margolis interviews Richard Miniter, author of "Shadow War."
This is an important interview, good food for thought if you care about the War on Terrorism.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
See? B.S.
Thanks for the Memory to Drudge via Ace of Spades HQ.
I really, honestly thought that my days of blogging on stories in which CBS news combines blatant political partisanship with really lousy journalism techniques was over. Honestly, I did. I figured, heck, they're probably still as partisan as ever, but getting burned as badly as they did on Memogate, they've learned to be a bit more judicious in how they act upon it.
How naive of me.
This time the "Big Story" being touted by CBS is the 350-400 tons of high explosives missing from Iraq. The slant to the story was that this is proof that the US is losing control of Iraq, that we were lax with security, and that the world is in greater danger because we dropped the ball. The Kerry campaign even took advantage of it and criticized the Bush administration for letting this happen.
But there are a couple of issues with the story that CBS conveniently omitted. First of all, the explosives have been missing since April of 2003. They've already been reported on. Secondly, the explosives were already gone by the time the first American troops ever arrived at the munitions dump for the first time during the invasion. They were already gone -- how were we supposed to have guarded them before we were there?
So yeah, that's poor reporting. But assuming it had been a good story, it is newsworthy -- how does that make it partisan?
Well, according to breaking news at Drudge, CBS planned to hold the story until October 31st in order to minimize the response time allowed the Bush camp: Jeff Fager, executive producer of the Sunday edition of 60 MINUTES, said in a statement that "our plan was to run the story on October 31, but it became clear that it wouldn't hold..."
See, the LA Times decided to run the story, and CBS essentially got scooped. They couldn't hold off on the story, so they ran with it.
And now, Ace links to Garfield Ridge, who is reporting that the document that alleges the missing explosives may be fake.
Hmmm.... Dubious documents, incomplete reporting, blatant political machinations.... yup: This is CBS.
I really, honestly thought that my days of blogging on stories in which CBS news combines blatant political partisanship with really lousy journalism techniques was over. Honestly, I did. I figured, heck, they're probably still as partisan as ever, but getting burned as badly as they did on Memogate, they've learned to be a bit more judicious in how they act upon it.
How naive of me.
This time the "Big Story" being touted by CBS is the 350-400 tons of high explosives missing from Iraq. The slant to the story was that this is proof that the US is losing control of Iraq, that we were lax with security, and that the world is in greater danger because we dropped the ball. The Kerry campaign even took advantage of it and criticized the Bush administration for letting this happen.
But there are a couple of issues with the story that CBS conveniently omitted. First of all, the explosives have been missing since April of 2003. They've already been reported on. Secondly, the explosives were already gone by the time the first American troops ever arrived at the munitions dump for the first time during the invasion. They were already gone -- how were we supposed to have guarded them before we were there?
So yeah, that's poor reporting. But assuming it had been a good story, it is newsworthy -- how does that make it partisan?
Well, according to breaking news at Drudge, CBS planned to hold the story until October 31st in order to minimize the response time allowed the Bush camp: Jeff Fager, executive producer of the Sunday edition of 60 MINUTES, said in a statement that "our plan was to run the story on October 31, but it became clear that it wouldn't hold..."
See, the LA Times decided to run the story, and CBS essentially got scooped. They couldn't hold off on the story, so they ran with it.
And now, Ace links to Garfield Ridge, who is reporting that the document that alleges the missing explosives may be fake.
Hmmm.... Dubious documents, incomplete reporting, blatant political machinations.... yup: This is CBS.
Monday, October 25, 2004
Repeating the Cycle
I finally got back on my bike and rode to work this morning. Usually I spend all summer doing it, but this year, I was normally so exhausted in the morning from taking care of the Feared (and hyperemetic) Redhead, I was too pooped to pedal. But one of my bachelor coworkers, who worked with me at the old job and is in training with me at the new, decided to splurge with his first paycheck and buy himself a bike, so I agreed to commute with him. Besides, it's a really good idea -- I want to get in shape so I can live long enough to see the expected little one grow up. So here are the stats from our first morning:
Distance: 4.4 miles
Average Speed: 10.5 mph
Time of Ride: 25 minutes 43 seconds
I am now officially out of shape. But it's a start. the challenge will be buying theright gear to stay dry and warm once winter really arrives. I'm still a little numb, but I'm glad I did it. Biking is the one form of exercize I actually enjoy.
Distance: 4.4 miles
Average Speed: 10.5 mph
Time of Ride: 25 minutes 43 seconds
I am now officially out of shape. But it's a start. the challenge will be buying theright gear to stay dry and warm once winter really arrives. I'm still a little numb, but I'm glad I did it. Biking is the one form of exercize I actually enjoy.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Winging It
So I dropped the Feared Redhead off at work this morning, and as the car door opened, I heard what has become for me the definitive sound of fall, and had to blog on it. It's a sound I grew up with, but went without for 12 years living in San Diego. Then I moved back to Oregon, and that first fall back, the sound came to my ears again and I realized you could experience 12 years of longing in the same instant that you experience its fulfillment. What is this magical sound, you ask? Why, of course, it's the honkers. The Canadian Geese are on the move.
Every fall they migrate south, every spring the migrate north. Here in Oregon, it stays warm enough yet never gets too hot for a few to stay year round, or to linger later than the majority of their brethren, but for the most part, the seasons of change bring the sound of huge flights of them all engaging in an avian call-and-response chorus as they wing their way urgently overhead. It's a paradoxical sound, one that is both melodious and cacaphonous, sad and joyful. In the same voice it speaks of the wistfull farewell to summer and to green northern climes, and the enthusiastic expectation of sunny lands to the south. And it is, as I have said, the sound of fall. The wind that brings the geeses wings brings also a hint of chill.
Fall is the time of such paradoxes, a time of trade-offs. Gone are the bright summer days with their seemingly endless sunshine, here instead is the crisp air and the clean smell of rain. Gone is the ubiquitous warmth that mocks the need for excess clothing, here instead is an excuse to nestle in as close to your lover as you can. Here in Oregon, our falls are not as spectacular as back east, because the deciduous trees do not have the same monopoly. In exchange, we are comforted by the knowledge that once the leaves have fallen, it will still be green. The flowers are gone, but the harvest is in. And while we may not be able to enjoy as many outdoor activities as we did over the summer, there is a whole new set of things to do. It's not as liberating a season, but it is much cozier.
And so when I finish here today and step back outside, I'll listen again for the sound of the honkers, and I'll wave them a farewell for the winter. I'll still be here when they come back in the spring.
Every fall they migrate south, every spring the migrate north. Here in Oregon, it stays warm enough yet never gets too hot for a few to stay year round, or to linger later than the majority of their brethren, but for the most part, the seasons of change bring the sound of huge flights of them all engaging in an avian call-and-response chorus as they wing their way urgently overhead. It's a paradoxical sound, one that is both melodious and cacaphonous, sad and joyful. In the same voice it speaks of the wistfull farewell to summer and to green northern climes, and the enthusiastic expectation of sunny lands to the south. And it is, as I have said, the sound of fall. The wind that brings the geeses wings brings also a hint of chill.
Fall is the time of such paradoxes, a time of trade-offs. Gone are the bright summer days with their seemingly endless sunshine, here instead is the crisp air and the clean smell of rain. Gone is the ubiquitous warmth that mocks the need for excess clothing, here instead is an excuse to nestle in as close to your lover as you can. Here in Oregon, our falls are not as spectacular as back east, because the deciduous trees do not have the same monopoly. In exchange, we are comforted by the knowledge that once the leaves have fallen, it will still be green. The flowers are gone, but the harvest is in. And while we may not be able to enjoy as many outdoor activities as we did over the summer, there is a whole new set of things to do. It's not as liberating a season, but it is much cozier.
And so when I finish here today and step back outside, I'll listen again for the sound of the honkers, and I'll wave them a farewell for the winter. I'll still be here when they come back in the spring.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Fame as an Argument
Thanks for the Memory to Vultures Row. My friend Scott over there has issued an Open Letter to Matt Damon, in response to the former Mrs. Afleck's offer to pay someone one million dollars to get John Kerry into the White House.
I was going to leave Scott a comment repeating my policy on political statements by celebrities, but instead I've decided to repeat it here, and then expound on it. The Memento Moron policy statement on celebrity activism is stated thus:
I fail to see any valid reason to attach added credence to the opinion of someone whose chief source of income is derived from speaking words someone else thought of for them, simply because that income is large or affords them acclaim.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that celebrities don't have a right to their opinions, nor am I objecting to their use of their celebrity status as a platform to express those opinions. The Bully Pulpit is, well, as the name implies, bully -- in the T.R. sense of the word. Heck, that's what I'm doing in miniature by blogging. No, if you can get more people to listen to you because they like your movies, more power to ya! Nor am I even saying that celebrities are incapable of having intelligent opinions. Not of necessity, that is, though many are.
What I'm saying is that while their celebrity affords them a broader venue for their opinions, it does not automatically confer validity upon those opinions. Fine. Matt Damon believes thus. Why should I believe thus also? Just because Matt Damon does? Please. that's the logical fallacy known as appeal to authority, and it's a piss-poor authority at that. No, if a celebrity is going to use their fame to be heard, they'd darn well better be prepared to deliver a rational, cogent, logical argument for their position. If they do, I'll listen, consider, and decide. But as long as they offer their celebrity as a rationale for their argument, I'm not buying.
I was going to leave Scott a comment repeating my policy on political statements by celebrities, but instead I've decided to repeat it here, and then expound on it. The Memento Moron policy statement on celebrity activism is stated thus:
I fail to see any valid reason to attach added credence to the opinion of someone whose chief source of income is derived from speaking words someone else thought of for them, simply because that income is large or affords them acclaim.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that celebrities don't have a right to their opinions, nor am I objecting to their use of their celebrity status as a platform to express those opinions. The Bully Pulpit is, well, as the name implies, bully -- in the T.R. sense of the word. Heck, that's what I'm doing in miniature by blogging. No, if you can get more people to listen to you because they like your movies, more power to ya! Nor am I even saying that celebrities are incapable of having intelligent opinions. Not of necessity, that is, though many are.
What I'm saying is that while their celebrity affords them a broader venue for their opinions, it does not automatically confer validity upon those opinions. Fine. Matt Damon believes thus. Why should I believe thus also? Just because Matt Damon does? Please. that's the logical fallacy known as appeal to authority, and it's a piss-poor authority at that. No, if a celebrity is going to use their fame to be heard, they'd darn well better be prepared to deliver a rational, cogent, logical argument for their position. If they do, I'll listen, consider, and decide. But as long as they offer their celebrity as a rationale for their argument, I'm not buying.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
A Bit of Advice for Jimmy Carter:
Stick to building houses.
Thanks for the Memory to Darth Apathy.
Jimmy was interviewed last night on MSNBC's "Hardball" with Chris Matthews.
As Vic points out, the fun begins right out of the gates, and by the first commercial break he has his foot firmly implanted in his oral cavity. my comments in italics:
MATTHEWS: Let me ask you the question about—this is going to cause some trouble with people—but as an historian now and studying the Revolutionary War as it was fought out in the South in those last years of the War, insurgency against a powerful British force, do you see any parallels between the fighting that we did on our side and the fighting that is going on in Iraq today?
CARTER: Well, one parallel is that the Revolutionary War, more than any other war up until recently, has been the most bloody war we‘ve fought. Well, yeah, Jimmy, if you consider the 1860's recently. the Civil War was our bloodiest conflict ever, dimwit. Gettysburg alone killed as many Americans as Vietnam-where-John-Kerry-Served. And we elected you President? Oh, the shame. I think another parallel is that in some ways the Revolutionary War could have been avoided. It was an unnecessary war. Unbelievable. The war that made us a nation was unnecessary. But don't you dare question his patriotism!
Had the British Parliament been a little more sensitive to the colonial‘s really legitimate complaints and requests the war could have been avoided completely, and of course now we would have been a free country now as is Canada and India and Australia, having gotten our independence in a nonviolent way. In another 150 freaking years? No thanks.
I think in many ways the British were very misled in going to war against America and in trying to enforce their will on people who were quite different from them at the time. No, you idiot, they weren't quite different. Read the American speeches and pamphlets of the day. We very much identified ourselves as displaced Englishmen, and it wasn't until the years and events leading up to the revolution that we began to develop and recognize our own distinct identity.
Seriously. I have a great deal of respect for the work that Carter does with Habitat for Humanity. But when he starts shooting his mouth off like this, he makes himself look like an ass. Remind me again why we're taking foreign affairs advice from a man who got 50-some odd Americans kidnapped for 400 days?
Thanks for the Memory to Darth Apathy.
Jimmy was interviewed last night on MSNBC's "Hardball" with Chris Matthews.
As Vic points out, the fun begins right out of the gates, and by the first commercial break he has his foot firmly implanted in his oral cavity. my comments in italics:
MATTHEWS: Let me ask you the question about—this is going to cause some trouble with people—but as an historian now and studying the Revolutionary War as it was fought out in the South in those last years of the War, insurgency against a powerful British force, do you see any parallels between the fighting that we did on our side and the fighting that is going on in Iraq today?
CARTER: Well, one parallel is that the Revolutionary War, more than any other war up until recently, has been the most bloody war we‘ve fought. Well, yeah, Jimmy, if you consider the 1860's recently. the Civil War was our bloodiest conflict ever, dimwit. Gettysburg alone killed as many Americans as Vietnam-where-John-Kerry-Served. And we elected you President? Oh, the shame. I think another parallel is that in some ways the Revolutionary War could have been avoided. It was an unnecessary war. Unbelievable. The war that made us a nation was unnecessary. But don't you dare question his patriotism!
Had the British Parliament been a little more sensitive to the colonial‘s really legitimate complaints and requests the war could have been avoided completely, and of course now we would have been a free country now as is Canada and India and Australia, having gotten our independence in a nonviolent way. In another 150 freaking years? No thanks.
I think in many ways the British were very misled in going to war against America and in trying to enforce their will on people who were quite different from them at the time. No, you idiot, they weren't quite different. Read the American speeches and pamphlets of the day. We very much identified ourselves as displaced Englishmen, and it wasn't until the years and events leading up to the revolution that we began to develop and recognize our own distinct identity.
Seriously. I have a great deal of respect for the work that Carter does with Habitat for Humanity. But when he starts shooting his mouth off like this, he makes himself look like an ass. Remind me again why we're taking foreign affairs advice from a man who got 50-some odd Americans kidnapped for 400 days?
What Kind of Man Are You?
Well, if you're this kind of man, you're also President of the United Staes.
Let's keep it that way.
(Thanks for the Memory to Blogs for Bush.)
Let's keep it that way.
(Thanks for the Memory to Blogs for Bush.)
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Frodo Lives!
I just heard back from Dale Rogers, the Staff Sargeant who used to run the Beer for Soldiers site. Here's what he told me:
Greetings from Iraq. Although Beer for Soldiers is gone, I am creating a new website so my brothers and I can share with our families back home a little of our lives here in Iraq. The site will have photos and mushy stuff for the women and kids back home, i.e, moms, wives, and girlfriends and the sons and daughters. I have to build it still so I know if I build it they will come.
www.fromiraqwithlove.com
Check it out soon.
I will, Dale. And I encourage my readers to do the same.
Also, Dale confided in me that while he can no longer solicit BfS funds, he still plans on throwing a bash for his buddies when they get home.
Now while Dale can't solicit funds, there's nothing stopping us civilians from scraping together some funds and giving them to him of our own volition. Just saying is all.
More once I've had a little heart-to-heart with Dale.
Greetings from Iraq. Although Beer for Soldiers is gone, I am creating a new website so my brothers and I can share with our families back home a little of our lives here in Iraq. The site will have photos and mushy stuff for the women and kids back home, i.e, moms, wives, and girlfriends and the sons and daughters. I have to build it still so I know if I build it they will come.
www.fromiraqwithlove.com
Check it out soon.
I will, Dale. And I encourage my readers to do the same.
Also, Dale confided in me that while he can no longer solicit BfS funds, he still plans on throwing a bash for his buddies when they get home.
Now while Dale can't solicit funds, there's nothing stopping us civilians from scraping together some funds and giving them to him of our own volition. Just saying is all.
More once I've had a little heart-to-heart with Dale.
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
Time may change me, but I can't trace time.
- David Bowie
I got an email today from my friend Shaun regarding my post on rain. In it he writes:
It's the Brian I remember. The Brian of our young years. I find it hard to ever find poetry in politics, even though many do. Thank heaven for rain.
It got me thinking. First of all, he's right. There isn't much poetry in politics. there is, however, a lot of passion, as I pointed out to him.
Shaun and I have been friends for years -- God, for at least a decade now. When we met, we were both young, and idealistic, and incredibly passionate about all of our beliefs, our pursuits, our aspirations, and in general, about everything we did. He was my best friend. Over the years, our friendship has remained, but has not maintained the same level of closeness. I still love Shaun like a brother, but I don't know him anywhere nearly as well as I once did. Time and distance and circumstances and events have taken their toll on our friendship, even as they have taken their toll on each of us in our own way.
I've never told shaun this, but for the longest time, i blamed him and his circumstances for the change in our friendship. I saw, as an observer, the changes in his demeanor, his attitudes, his personality. And I missed the Shaun I once knew. What I did not see, perhaps COULD not see for the longest time, were the changes in myself.
I suppose one reason that it was easier to notice his changes than my own was the fact that I had to live in my own skin on a daily basis, whereas I only got to see Shaun once every few months at the most, often with years intervening. Gradual changes can seem quite sudden if all you see is the before and after shots.
But eventually I came to recognize the changes in myself as well. And I must confess, some of them disturbed me or disappointed me in ways far worse than anything I observed in my friend. I can't remember when I last wrote poetry. I cry less bitterly, laugh less heartily than I used to. I don't read as often or as voraciously. I look less far off into the distance, and find myself staring more longingly at the past. I think about decisions I've made -- some good, some bad -- and think about the opportunities that I've gained, and the ones I've lost as a result. I think about thinga I'll never have a chance to do again, and others that I never could have done before. I have become all too familiar with regret, but also with wisdom. Perhaps these are the trades we make, the entrance fee into adulthood. Or maybe this is just the vaguely sentimental ramblings of someone who has become something he never expected, and nothing he intended.
When I was in junior high choir, we sang a song that was an arrangement of what has since been one of my favorite poems of all times. But while I've long enjoyed it, it wasn't until recent years that I truly appreciated it. So if you'll forgive any errors, I shall now try to recite it from memory:
The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
and sorry I could not travel both,
but be one traveller, long I stood,
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim,
because it was grassy and wanted wear,
but as for that the passing there
had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I save the first for another day,
yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubt if I shall ever get back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
somewhere ages and ages hence.
Two roads diverged in a woods, and I,
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference.
- David Bowie
I got an email today from my friend Shaun regarding my post on rain. In it he writes:
It's the Brian I remember. The Brian of our young years. I find it hard to ever find poetry in politics, even though many do. Thank heaven for rain.
It got me thinking. First of all, he's right. There isn't much poetry in politics. there is, however, a lot of passion, as I pointed out to him.
Shaun and I have been friends for years -- God, for at least a decade now. When we met, we were both young, and idealistic, and incredibly passionate about all of our beliefs, our pursuits, our aspirations, and in general, about everything we did. He was my best friend. Over the years, our friendship has remained, but has not maintained the same level of closeness. I still love Shaun like a brother, but I don't know him anywhere nearly as well as I once did. Time and distance and circumstances and events have taken their toll on our friendship, even as they have taken their toll on each of us in our own way.
I've never told shaun this, but for the longest time, i blamed him and his circumstances for the change in our friendship. I saw, as an observer, the changes in his demeanor, his attitudes, his personality. And I missed the Shaun I once knew. What I did not see, perhaps COULD not see for the longest time, were the changes in myself.
I suppose one reason that it was easier to notice his changes than my own was the fact that I had to live in my own skin on a daily basis, whereas I only got to see Shaun once every few months at the most, often with years intervening. Gradual changes can seem quite sudden if all you see is the before and after shots.
But eventually I came to recognize the changes in myself as well. And I must confess, some of them disturbed me or disappointed me in ways far worse than anything I observed in my friend. I can't remember when I last wrote poetry. I cry less bitterly, laugh less heartily than I used to. I don't read as often or as voraciously. I look less far off into the distance, and find myself staring more longingly at the past. I think about decisions I've made -- some good, some bad -- and think about the opportunities that I've gained, and the ones I've lost as a result. I think about thinga I'll never have a chance to do again, and others that I never could have done before. I have become all too familiar with regret, but also with wisdom. Perhaps these are the trades we make, the entrance fee into adulthood. Or maybe this is just the vaguely sentimental ramblings of someone who has become something he never expected, and nothing he intended.
When I was in junior high choir, we sang a song that was an arrangement of what has since been one of my favorite poems of all times. But while I've long enjoyed it, it wasn't until recent years that I truly appreciated it. So if you'll forgive any errors, I shall now try to recite it from memory:
The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
and sorry I could not travel both,
but be one traveller, long I stood,
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim,
because it was grassy and wanted wear,
but as for that the passing there
had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I save the first for another day,
yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubt if I shall ever get back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
somewhere ages and ages hence.
Two roads diverged in a woods, and I,
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Rain, Rain, Come Today
Yesterday it rained, and at one point it rained hard enough that even an Oregonian was compelled to call it "rain" (what most people call rain, we call a heavy mist). I'm much happier now -- I prefer it when the morning's cold and clouds actually stay around and put out, instead of burning off into that mid-fall schizophrenic heat I loathe so. I know it's pretty cliche to hear this coming from an Oregonian, but there's some truth in the stereotype -- I love rain. I love all kinds of rain. I love a summer rain with that smell coming up off of the dust when the first raindrops hit it. I love a fall rain when the cloud cover is intermittent and the sun low in the sky shines through so that it's bright and sunny but raining at the same time. I love a dead-of-winter rain when it's coming down in vertical sheets and the wind is howling and driving the rain right through your coat and you come in from it and peel off layers of wet fabric and sit by a fire or soak in the tub with a hot toddy or buttered rum or chocolate, and listen to the angry moans of the storm and smugly reflect on the fact that there are good walls and a roof between you and all of that weather. I love the way the rain showers everything squeaky clean and the way everything smells clean and healthy and the way that any flat surface glows and glistens at night from the reflection of the streetlights or the moonlight in the wetness that the rain deposits on streets and cars and sidewalks. And I love the sense of resolution that is felt after you've watched the sky darken and turn more and more brooding all day, they way the tension builds, giving the weather an almost emotional quality, until it erupts in a liquid tantrum that gets everything off of Mother Nature's chest. And I love the sweet calm that comes after the rain passes.
I can honestly say, God knew what He was doing when he had me born in Oregon.
I can honestly say, God knew what He was doing when he had me born in Oregon.
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