Dan Feidt's log on Minnesota, Information Operations, spinstorms and latent contradictions.
Later this afternoon I'm going up to northern Minnesota, specifically the North Shore where my parents have a funky little cottage. We'll be gone until Friday afternoon, so don't expect any updates for a while.
Here are some exciting pictures of the situation at 1511 Grand Ave. early this morning. I am releasing these to the local media for use, but I would really like to be credited as "Dan Feidt / HongPong.com". I am a resident of #15 at 1511 Grand. After WCCO interviewed me in the morning, Channel 5 and Channel 9 came through around lunchtime! Those camera guys in the last photo were from 5 and 9. The woman in the reflective red vest was from the red Cross, offering us shelter.
Click on the photos to enlarge them.
Abby's room got the worst of it. Mattress and many furnishings soaked.
Hey all, well now it's August and I am sort of bedded up with a busted ankle. I was messing around on Saturday night and twisted it pretty well. It swelled right up but I thought it would wear off pretty quickly. Unfortunately, by Monday night my whole foot was club-shaped, kind of purple on the side. Bending the foot on the straight-ahead axis works all right, but side-to-side and turning are not good.
So today I went into the clinic and got some X-rays. No bone fractures and I can hobble around on it. So they gave me a brace. The doc advised a few Advil every day for a week and it would be all right. Then I asked, hmm, what about a little Vicodin?
And so Vicodin was had. These dog days of August will be a little hazier. I think they'll probably be updates tomorrow since even walking a couple blocks sucks right now.
In the meantime, VH1's Best Week Ever has random facts about Jews according to Mel Gibson.
This was from the Apocalypto trailer, a single frame of madness.
We all know he's fuckin crazy. Anyway... We here at HongPong.com have been on his case for a while.
One of the things about taking a break on the site is that you're not sure where to get going again. Now that I am opening up the content to more things, I'm thinking about how to streamline the content while sticking to some general direction in the site's form. Random content is part of the appeal, but more focus - or rather a more clear set of foci - would make the site a lot more enjoyable for all.
At the same time I don't want to spend an inordinate amount of time working on it, especially in the nice summer with a more full-time job starting up next week. So there's a balance to be found...
Or a bunch of randomness.
The HBO show Entourage would be far less watchable without Jeremy Piven as Ari Gold, the fanatical agent. Fortunately someone did an Ari clip video. Some guest stars have been excellent, in particular Bob Saget's turn as a brothel-crazed bong smoking Bob Saget.
Saget's career also blew up a bit with this odd music video that went around a while ago. Jamie Kennedy and George Lucas roll on the strip with Saget.
Fuck Colgate - free Crest Whitestrips!!! Won't make you feel like a piece of shit!!
Which brings us to TourettesGuy, a strange man with his own set of online videos, wherein he misses a shot in pool, screams and shouts "Bob Saget!!"
And of course, "Don't talk shit about Total!" and the new one, Tit Dirt. A major crowd favorite.
Cartoon Network is throwing free Adult Swim shows up including a new Venture Brothers. Venture Brothers is hit-or-miss but this one was entertaining (link only temporary)
The quasi-anarchist-subversive site Disinfo notes that
'New Scientist has discovered that Pentagon's National Security Agency, which specialises in eavesdropping and code-breaking, is funding research into the mass harvesting of the information that people post about themselves on social networks. And it could harness advances in internet technology - specifically the forthcoming "semantic web" championed by the web standards organisation W3C - to combine data from social networking websites with details such as banking, retail and property records, allowing the NSA to build extensive, all-embracing personal profiles of individuals.
It is interesting that the Pentagon itself is taking over all these functions. They are already combing my phone records, high school GPA's for recruiting, all kinds of things. On the other hand, Disinfo is an entity on MySpace. BlackListedNews has some interesting stuff, but they're on Myspace too..... Even Alex Jones is on MySpace, yet he says:
...the purpose of this profile is to test the censorship of MySpace--primarily based upon political content... I disagree with the censorship and control of MySpace, which is only one step away from China's Internet policy where anything critical of the government is kept from dissident eyes.
The flick A Scanner Darkly even has a myspace page... and Alex Jones is in the movie:
This is all getting much too circular...
Software notes: Civilization IV for Mac has just been released. Sweet. Also if you need an OS X timer program (my new/old oven doesn't have one), Chimoo Timer is your best free bet.
I moved into Omar's apartment. Omar is at a place called The Jalouise Plantation in St. Lucia for a couple months, since his dad works there. He'll be at the U in a master's program this fall.
As for me, my life is pretty much a mess right now and I'm trying to get it cleaned up. I promise some useful updates later. Fortunately work won't really start next week because of the holiday, so I've got a while to get things cleaned up.
...at the moment, because I am doing some data entry work for a campaign for Hennepin County Commissioner. Susan Segal is an attorney in the Hennepin County attorney's office, who is running for Gail Dorfman's seat in Hennepin. Dorfman, in turn, is now running for Congress in retiring Martin Sabo's current seat.
So it is kind of a DFL daisy-chain effect. Only if Dorfman wins the nomination, against such heavyweights as State Rep. Keith Ellison, can Segal's campaign go forward. However, as I enter delegates into our fancy Drupal-based content and contact management system, I see that she's got quite a bit of delegate support already locked in, provided Dorfman makes it to the next round. Interesting stuff.
I really promise to dish up some goodies on Hookergate and other stuff later, famous blogger last words.... But sweetly enough, old GOP hand Ed Rollins suggested that around 15 (mostly?) Republican congressmen could get snared into Hookergate and indicted. And that would make it truly a great summer.
TomMahm, Copperfield Loses Not a Cent, Lots More Stadiums Seats to Put Butts In, I Have a Cat!
The above is an untouched photograph of the view West towards the Tucson mountains from my front yard on a weekday evening. The bar on the left was frequented by Jack Kerouac, I am told.
Introducing: Strega Nona
Abby and I have adopted Strega here, which is to say, Strega's owner forfeited his right to own her through gross negligence and she chose to reside with us instead. She is currently in heat, which has been a treat, as she begins yowling at five in the morning and gets louder until ten or so. Come Friday morning, entering into estrus will forever be a thing of the past for Strega, which is win-win for everyone. Mating screams and the demented rubbing exercises that accompany them notwithstanding, this is a very cool cat- gentle and loving without being needy, small, athletic and quite beautiful, she's ["Smitten Kitten" joke redacted- ed.]
I'm an illusionist!
David Copperfield was robbed at gunpoint in West Palm Beach Sunday night, and managed to convince the three teenage thieves holding a gun six inches from his face that he did not have any on him by performing his "reverse pickpocket" trick and pulling out his pant pockets in from of them without relinquishing possession of his scrilla and celly. He called the cops and the kids were busted "within minutes," and then magically transformed into a scale model of the Gateway Arch in a cloud of smoke. I kid, Mr. Kotkin (his real name), smoke machines are for hacks, of course! In related news, David Blaine is going to perform his next stunt, where he will be dangled from his toes while wearing the Shroud of Turin over a vat of warm marmalade, in New York City. The reason for the change of venue (he spent 44 days in a box starving himself in London two years ago) was the inhospitality of the British, who went so far as to dangle cheeseburgers from RC helicopters to torture him. So, in summary, David Blaine is a baby and David Copperfield belongs in her Majesty's Secret Service. Remember, not only did he fool the thieves and keep the cash, but we still don't know the trick, preserving his Alliance certification.
I don't even know what my point is here, other than that these guys is crazy...
Stadiums for Everyone!
Well, the VIkings' stadium deal is still in its infancy, but the Gophers and Twins are crowning as we speak. Though the Senate shifted around the Gopher stadium plans a bit, (removing the student fee and nixing TCF Bank's $35 naming rights contribution) it is still on track at the very same moment that a Twins stadium bill's passing is looking all but inevitable. I think we can probably call all three of these projects likely, which is exciting news. The Cities had to spruce up their sports infrastructure a bit both for the purposes of major events like the NCAA tournament and the Super Bowl and to, y'know, retain their teams in an era of bazillion dollar excesses on major sports venues. The price tag? $790 million for the Vikes, $522 million for the Twinkies (half a bill and no retractable roof?) and $248 million for Goldie to go toe-to-toe with the newer stadii of the Big 10; silly money, to be sure, but the resulting facilities, and the possibility of Hennepin County pursuing its imagined urban village in the footprint of the Huhuhu Metrodome, make the deal(s) too good to pass up. FYI- The Representative sleeping through the meeting on the allocation of a half a billion dollars is Representive David Dill (DFL-Crane Lake).
I feel very much obliged to write something about the entering the fourth (fourth!) year of the Iraq war, seeing as how our side was pretty much right about the likely problems and eventual sectarian breakdown of the country. However, that is hardly any comfort to anyone, since it's everyone's national disaster.
Since March 10, 2003, when the post-high-school version of this site was inaugurated from my sophomore Dupre single, this has been pretty much the loose axiom:
There is something wrong. There is a war about to go underway which will kill thousands without just cause. People must object to the unilateral, hasty, and unjustified conflict. We have to get the word out and the Internet is an exceedingly valuable tool for this. There should be several news and opinion links a day as we go forward into what Thomas Friedman is already calling "World War III."
Well, I would say that this website has scored pretty well, in terms of exposing the conspiracy of War Lies, rationalized annihilation, the vile agendas of radical right-wing Zionists, the humorous hypocrisies of the War on Drugs, and other assorted favorite topics. While these have been gratifying to share, it is not always a productive element connecting me to the real world rushing past me.
Either way, over the last few days my calcified and generally unsatisfying order of priorities in my life has been shaken, but I think in a good way. I have to take some actions to get rid of really negative and contemptuous facets of my own life. My birthday is in less than two months, and I feel that this year of my life has mostly been one of waiting for things to happen, unhappily. Part of that was due to being under an indictment for many months, which put me in a bit of a Scooter Libby/Abramoff frame of mind.
But January/February/March 2006 have been a kind of continuous slouch that has provided no real benefit. Seasonal Existential Horror Disorder is a deeply-rooted problem at these latitudes. I need to get into another line of work. I have to take my own fool problems head-on because no one else will.
What does that mean for the website? Oh well, i don't really know. Thanks for sticking with us over the last few years. I think I at least ought to put up a tip jar or something to cover the technical expenses.
We will remain vigilant, resolved, ever watchful for Psychological Operations, information operations, the men in the military-industrial complex stealing money from our wallets and eating the government, messianic and eschatological structures of political thought, humorous tidbits and technological wizardry, the many benefits of open-source software, the nature of fourth-generation warfare, the corrupt state of American partisan politics in the 21st century, the glories of atheism, and the latest words from the friends who follow this website from half a world away.
I am going to hang out with Mordred in Tucson during March 27-April 3rd. I have never felt the need to get out of town so badly as now.
Hey all, things have been a little sparse here lately. It's damn early and I am just wrapping up the PIM Morning Report, which is quite a pain in the ass to deal with at 7 AM, but at least I have a nearly omniscient view of what is happening around Minnesota. I really promise that The Big Score will be up later today. Also some weeks ago, I promised Mordred a proper explanation of why I did not want to post the famous 'Mohammed bombhead' picture.
Also there have been some Turks around the site, and they are worth responding to. So there is a pile of goodies to deal with. Stand by folks, it's not a snow day anymore.
I'm going to toss in some brief bits, but first I have to tell about the recent dicey situation over here by Loring Park. Last week, as many students were milling around the Minneapolis Community / Technical College across the street, some people in a red compact rolled up off Hennepin. According to one anonymous local known as Papa Smurf who witnessed the event, suddenly a number of guys jumped out and started shooting at a group of people on the south end of the parking lot, as portrayed in a somewhat garish way here, from my living room window:
The targets took cover behind cars in the lot (there were more at the time), and the assassins sped off east down Spruce, towards Loring Park. If only I hadn't been working in St. Paul, I might have seen it from my window.
Papa Smurf said that one person was left limping around with an apparent gunshot to the leg, while most everyone else hid until the police showed up less than 5 minutes later. It was not featured on the news.
I told this to a friend, expecting some sort of 'oh wow.' Instead she was like, "Well they shot up the Tires Plus next to my house last night." You just can't impress some people.
Jane Cat, by the way, is fine now. The right ear healed up quite nicely.
On with the miscellaneous: DailySixer presents a sweet Reservoir Dogs poster and a Live Action Simpsons intro.
Alison and I got back to our East Metro roots at White Bear Lake's BearTown Lounge on Highway 61 for some really good cheeseburgers and $1 second beers in Happy Hour. The place is full of sculpted polar bears. This is exactly why East Metro beats the tar out of Edina and the West Metro.
Mordred sent over rrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnhhhh.blogspot.com, which is a Chewbacca spoof blog, inserting Chewy into such internet pop culture icons as the famous Gary Busey mugshot. Also has a myspace profile. Kind of a sublime exercise in whatever art form this is.
Chewy has a link to mchammer.blogspot.com, wherein MC Hammer has apparently learned how to upload low-quality photos from his Sidekick camera-phone. It seems this is authentic, it looks like him. And, I can't believe I am saying this, MC Hammer is audio blogging.
The Agonist has a really sweet new website now geared up. For organized international news it really rocks. The new NewsWire thing is sweet. Right now, top story is NeoCon allies desert Bush over Iraq, such as William Buckley, Francis Fukuyama, Richard Perle, Andrew Sullivan, George Will. Well fuck you guys. Thanks for joining the regularly scheduled disaster. I hope you hate yourselves.
Sketchy Narcotics conspiracies: NarcoNews.com is featuring, as always, lots of controversial stuff on the drug war. Today we find some of the corrupt Democrat flip side. As with most things of this nature, take it with your grains of salt. Catherine Austin Fitts is someone I would classify as from the same general sector of the infowars as Michael Ruppert (they're tight). So check out Dillon, Read & Co. Inc. and the Aristocracy of Prison Profits: Part IV: The Clinton Years: Progressives for Private Prisons, HUD’s Corrupt Role in Centralizing Debt and Corporate Dirty Tricks.
Scooter your ass to jail:
Along the same lines as attempted homicides outside, the Scooter Libby Legal Defense Trust is pretty fucking great. Because nothing says freedom like outing a CIA agent, to intimidate the Washington bureaucracy into silence over the fake intelligence. Good times. And thanks for providing a list of evildoers such as Francis Fukuyama, Steve Forbes and Evil Emperor James Woolsey. And also apparently Dennis Ross. When the revolution comes, your crew will be first against the wall.
Quick batch of commentary & headlines: U.S. stuck with few options in Iraq. Preventing Iraq's disintegration. Outlook worsens in Afghanistan.
PENTAGON DISMISSES US TROOP POLL Thursday, March 02, 2006 - FreeMarketNews.com
The Pentagon has dismissed a poll's finding that 72 per cent of United States troops in Iraq believe the US should pull out within a year or less. "It shouldn't surprise anybody that a deployed soldier would rather be at home than deployed, even when they believe what they are doing is important and vital work," Pentagon spokesman Bryan Whitman said. The poll by Le Moyne College and Zogby International found that only 23 per cent believed US troops should stay in Iraq "as long as it takes," as US President George W. Bush has insisted.
As If There Were No Tomorrow: Sunnis Leaving Iraq by the adventuresome and indefatigable Iraqi journalist/blogger Khalid Jarrar. Juan Cole: Iraq's worst week -- and Bush's. Deep troubles as Iraq tries to form a new government. Al Ahram: The myth of civil war.
Subtle Irony Department: [via This Modern World and Under the Same Sun]: CommonDreams:
Two Iraqi women whose husbands and children were killed by US troops during the Iraq war have been refused entry into the United States for a speaking tour. The women were invited to the US for peace events surrounding international women’s by the human rights group Global Exchange and the women’s peace group CODEPINK.
In a piece of painful irony, the reason given for the rejection was that the women don’t have enough family in Iraq to prove that they’ll return to the country.
DKos: White House hunting down truth-tellers.
This is what happens when you pay too much of your credit card bill: Pay too much and you could raise the alarm:
They were told, as they moved up the managerial ladder at the call center, that the amount they had sent in was much larger than their normal monthly payment. And if the increase hits a certain percentage higher than that normal payment, Homeland Security has to be notified. And the money doesn't move until the threat alert is lifted.
Nothing left to say.
This is belated:
Kirby Puckett
1960-2006
Considering the bandwagon jumping that has accompanied the passing of Kirby Puckett, I must lay claim to my rightful place in the pantheon of those who would honor him. I was nine years old when Kirby led the Twins to victory in what is widely considered the best World Series ever played. As anyone who lived within a 250-mile radius of Minneapolis that season knows, Kirby was... in a word... Jesus. Not on a scale seen more than a handful of times in major league sports, Kirby Puckett was a figure of such sterling reputation and staggering popularity that, as many hack journalists have been quick to point out, he probably could not exist in the modern, post-A-Rod contract, Pacers brawl, Barry Bonds era. To anyone growing up in the region, his status was a given, a sort of agreed-upon point of faith: Kirby Puckett is inherently and intrinsically good. His lovability factor was high- 5'8" tall, 210 pounds, he was a tiny boulder of a man capable of moving quickly and rather gracelessly, stubby twig legs and barrel body chugging along. His personal problems have tarnished his public image, but does little to diminish his power as an icon for several generations, whose psychic connection to him was formed during his years of hard work and spectacular play. Every article I've read since his passing has focused on the home run in Game 6, but it's the catch that made that home run possible that dominated my memory. It was always Kirby's defense that delighted the most, as he looked at his most Kirby when his entirely unconventional body was fully in motion- his vertical leap was basketball big and his timing was usually dead nuts on, allowing him to grab balls a foot and a half past the outfield fence in a motion that, for him, was quite graceful, practiced and nonchalant. His work ethic always impressed but, I think, the attachment I (we) had with him had more to do with the fact that he made it look like fun. Bye, Kirby.
Technorati Tags: Sports
By the time you read this, it is already way too late for it to do you any good...
Vegas, baby!
Hell yeah, man- fucking Vegas!
Dude, I didn't go to bed 'till like two in the afternoon yesterday!
We went out to this club and there were, like, so many fine-ass chicks there!
I have always been a little confused as to why it was the city of New York that was attacked close to half a decade ago. Its position as the leading financial city in the Western world, the preponderance of media outlets, the density and the target were all perfectly chosen, if one wanted to attack the second most offensive and decadent Gomorrah inside the boundaries of the Great Satan. The best choice, one would think, the city for which the most amount of psychic justice would be rendered by its obliteration, is Las Vegas, right? 24 hours of raucous crowds, serious intoxication, non-stop entertainment and beautiful people- how can this not be the best symbolic target against the forces of smut and decadence in the war of ideologies?
Because you'd just kill this guy like eleventy million times.
I was never privy to the predecessor of the modern Vegas- I can only hope that it was truly the den of sin and iniquity it has been portrayed as. What I have seen is the cutting edge in the giant industry of shopping/gambling/hotel/theater/restaurant conglomerates: looming indoor cities containing labyrinths of paths along which one can do almost nothing else but lose money while one travels from rip-off to rip-off. There are small children all over the gaming floor, running around while Mommy grabs a cocktail. Stripping and prostitution is alluded to but not seen beyond the cards handed out on Las Vegas Boulevard and the wives of men in the High Stakes poker rooms. The tone is decidedly mall-ish, a familiar form of egalitarian commerce, no one person's money greener than another's, no one expected to dress up beyond their comfort. The proles mill about in even the nicer casinos, pulling handles on penny slots for hours at a time in order to hang out somewhere other than the Motel 8 with a shuttle to the strip- plus, they serve free booze on the casino floor, and they won't even get mad if you don't tip. In all, the experience is closer to that of a calf being fatted for slaughter than a rapacious animal on the loose for money and snatch. One of the overwhelming points of similitude between the polyglot group of visitors to Vegas is, indeed, large, slack, protruding stomachs, testaments to years of the sloth of convenience.
The average Vegas visitor looks more like this
than they do like George Clooney. In the three
days that I was there, I saw t-shirts that said "Eat
My Taco", "I [Heart] Vagina", "Just Add Wine" and
"A Gold Digger; Like A Prostitute, But Smarter"
That being said, this particular gentleman is, of
course, amazing to behold.
This selfsame sloth seems to be prowling almost every region of America, culling a very special strata of society and sending it to Vegas. Give me your tired, your indebted, your chattering classes longing to be on TV, the sloth commands! Give me morbidly obese alcoholics with advanced adult onset diabetes and bring lots of motorized scooters for them to use. Add world-class buffet facilities and free drinks so long as they're gambling! Give me every numbnuts frat boy who ever liked a Vince Vaughn movie and, while you're at it, why not throw in the real Vince Vaughn- bloated, boozy schmuck son-of-a-bitchs are always welcome. Why not, sloth says, have a city so devoid of imagination and originality that anyone can have fun, dropping money into slot machines while they sipping gratis yard long-margaritas? Here can be the realization of the banality of evil, the obliterating force of pointless, useless commerce in the hands of marketing majors and retail chain executives. And, to rub a palm full of sea salt in the open would, let's try to make it look like Venice and Paris and New York City so that it melts your mind with its hopeless bric-a-brac junkiness, its disposable gloom and dulling redundancy.
This will probably not fool you. If it does, there is a Carrot Top concert over at the MGM.
There it is, as well- the truth. Vegas is hard to hate as it is awfully banal, an indoor megaplex full of devices and activities with which to pass time for a fee. Far from being aghast at the depravity of the place, one wonders how its reputation for bad behavior has survived; It is clean and well-staffed, with courteous service employees and good security. It is family-oriented and plays host to a staggering number of major conventions. It is rather boring. Far from its baccanalian reputation, Vegas is just a great place to be separated from your cash. Maybe the reason Vegas hasn't been attacked is simple: Osama's been there (for a War on Freedom Industry Annual) and after losing, like, a zillion games of craps on the floor, went up stairs and drank two Chivas Regal bottles out of the minibar and then fell asleep on top of the covers in his clothes and woke up in time to pack up and go, and he doesn't remember much except all the blinking lights and the noise of the casino floor, the ceaseless blip-bloop of electronic slot machines.
Zzz...
Technorati Tags: hating freedom
Ironically enough, earlier today I was playing Call of Duty, a WWII first-person shooter game which takes you through a few classic parts of the war, from the perspective of a Brit and a Soviet soldier. I just got to the Stalingrad levels, full of fog, rubble and snipers. Good stuff. And I just got some returned spam, as some Russian is forging "thwart.net" emails to other Russians. But it looks like a hell of a deal!
I have used the Dashboard translator to illuminate some of what it means. The Russian advertising industry is probably baroque and sinister in really amusing ways.
Внимание! ДО 31 МАРТА КУРС ДОЛЛАРА $ 1 = 3 РУБля!!!
Attention! UNTIL 31 MARCH THE EXCHANGE VALUE OF DOLLAR I 1 = 3 RUBLES!!!
Рекламно Агентство «RBA MEDIA» проводит распродажу собственных рекламных площадей и предлагает Вам организовать эффективную рекламную кампанию, а именно – разместить рекламу в издания на уникальных условиях:
Advertising agency "RBA MEDIA" is conducted the sale of its own advertising areas and proposes to you it organized effective advertising operating period, namely - it placed advertisement into the publications on the unique conditions:
ВАША РЕКЛАМНАЯ КАМПАНИЯ ПО ЦЕНЕ $ 1 = 3 РУБЛЯ!
YOUR ADVERTISING OPERATING PERIOD ON THE PRICE I 1 = 3 RUBLES!
Данный курс действует на размещение рекламы любого объема в любых номерах изданий 2006 года на страницах журналов, участвующих в акции при оплате не менее 3-х публикаций до 31.03.06 г. Кроме того, каждый рекламодатель данной акции получает бесплатную полугодовую подписку на издание с собственной рекламой.
This course acts on the arrangement of the advertisement of any capacity in any numbers of the publications 2006 on the pages of the periodicals, which participate in the action with the payment not less 3rd publications to 31.03.06 g. furthermore, each sponsor of this action is obtained free half year subscription to the publication with his own advertisement.
Звоните: 8-909-630-3868
и Вы получите уникальную рекламу кампанию за минимальные деньги!
Стоимость рекламы в журналах, участвующих в данной акции:
and you will receive unique advertisement operating period for the minimum money!
Cost of advertisement in the periodicals, which participate in this:
[And there are several items like this:]
Журнал «АВТО - ОБОЗРЕНИЕ»
Официальная стоимость рекламы:
1/16 полосы - $ 600
Стоимость рекламы во время акции:
1/16 полоса - 1.800 руб.
Periodical "IS AUTO- - REVIEW" the official cost of the advertisement:
1/16 strips - i 600 cost of advertisement during the action: 1/16
strip - 1.800 rub.
I have to say that Russian is probably the coolest looking language.
Introducing: Squarehead Bunny
Whassup sweet babies, just wanted to rap a-choo awhile
"It's hip to be square- proven fact, proven fact- and here I am. Haha, just kidding- say, how you doin' today? Having fun? Having fun just being young, just being yourselves and being young and yeah, yeah. Me too, man, me too- maybe I don't look like I'm on top of the world, but you know, sometimes we have bad days. Sometimes we have good days, too, y'know. The ball bounces our way. The toast hits the ground jelly-up, haha. Haha."
"Hey man, guess what? Well, I was out in the yard this morning just, y'know, doing whatever, and man... You ain't even gonna believe this man, but guess what I found? Grass. Grass, man, grass, just a whole big 'ol lawn full of it. And I'm like, Rock'N'Roll- cool, y'know, just too cool, man, got all this grass, too much to even know what to do with it. So I lwent to town on it, man, just ate the horse snot out of that grass. Man, it was dee-licious and dee-lightful, this grass, and I just got all I could get."
"Man, fuck this carrot"
"See, when I was growing up, we didn't have no grass, man- neighborhood was in the city, but real tight, man, real uptight. Out in the yard, y'know, whatever goes, but man oh man, in my neighborhood you couldn't squeeze out one single little, perfect sphere without everyone in the row of cages knowing 'bout it. Man, if I had had some grass, maybe then... Anyway, didn't get no grass growing up, just trying it for the first time..."
"Imma tell you something- you my friend, and you ain't never need to ask me for any grass- k? 'Cause I'm your friend, you get however much grass you want- hell, got a whole yard full of it. Yessir, just as much grass as you want. None of that hard pellet stuff or that dry, crushed up stuff, just good fresh grass, finest I've ever seen."
"Munch, munch, nawmean? Munch munch, muthafuckas... Fucking munch..."
"So I'm watching this new Woody Allen movie, and I'm like, asides from the big 'ol chest booty on this blond, why am I watching this? I'd had like four and half pounds of grass before this, like for real, because I think I am gonna love this movie, but naw, just some guy who keep getting away with everything. No bunny wanna go watch a movie about some guy not getting chased around or nothin'- just walking around watching him not get caught for stuff he did... Man, all I wanted to do the whole time was just get back home to the lawn, nawmean? Munch munch..."
Who's up for some motherfucking Olympic Games?
U.S.A... U.S.A... U.S.A...
Any takers?
Not me, and I would actually watch downhill skiing voluntarily if it were on the rest of the year. During the Olympics, though, with Bob Costas' reassuring voice punctuating the proceedings with international inanities, I just can't be bothered to slog through the coverage of sports like these:
I don't know if I am just jaded or if I no longer able to muster the proper pavlovian response asked of once every two years. The Olympics are supposed to be accompanied by a cold rush of patriotism and allow one to sweat out one's nationalistic demons by projecting one's hostility towards France upon their third-string skeleton rider (racer?) and wishing for his quick and effortless dispatch at the hands of a crack American squad (minus their best member- steroids). I can't get too worked up this year, though. For reasons ranging from Bode Miller's diplomatic ineptitude and general dickishness to the location (Turin? Whatever happened to the hustle and bustle of, say, Lillehamer? or Salt Lake City?) I just cannot muster the necessary amount of patriotic zeal. With the exception of wanting to see a couple of Minnesota girls hit the slalom course (Kristina Koznick and Lindsey Kildow) and Miller fall, I don't have much riding on this game emotionally. But does anyone? Outside of this little charade once every four years, does anyone, and I mean anyone, go to Skeleton events? Speed Skating? Luge? Where did these sports even come from, and who could possibly support themselves off the ticket sales? Who are these athletes and who taught them how to Luge? I don't remember that unit in gym class. Are there just teams of stern, grandfatherly Eastern Europeans who stake out key sledding hills and, upon seeing a bright young man in a cap and mittens deftly weave his way down the bumpy run and to the bottom, sidles up to him and tells him of his own days sledding, and how sledding led to luge and, if it hadn't been for his knee, but, well, you wouldn't want to hear about that...
As for figure skating, let's face it- it's the only aspect of the Winter Games anyone gives two shits about, and it's not even a sport. This is not to say that it is not an athletic endeavor requiring thousands of hours of diligent, painful study, but it is not a sport in the traditional manner. Sports derive from war games, and thus speed, strength, endurance and an ability to drive past or score on one's opponent are easily-comprehended goals. Whipping about on metal blades for the express purpose of spinning in the air and waving your arms around emotively is a more difficult-to-grasp skill on the bloody fields of Agincourt or Thermopylae. For some reason, it strikes a spider-vein in the female population of America and, despite the fact that your average American woman has never laced up a pair of skates and breathes heavily at the top of the stairs, several days of couch time are dedicated to watching starving children perform circus tricks on skates for the glory of their nation. Does the skater above look like she is capable of dealing a fatal blow? Even the curlers look more dangerous- at least they have sticks and rocks.
The worst part, of course, is the Maurie Povitch sob stories that accompany each athlete. Divorce, poverty, instability, scabies, arterial sclerosis and painful long-term surgical treatments haunt the pasts of these brave young Americans who, being between the ages of sixteen and thirty, have had a lot more time on their hands to grapple with their demons than I feel I might have time for if I were training six hours a day to compete in the zenith of human sport. Last night they appeared, young and vital-looking, and gave no hint of the physical and emotional ravishing they have endured. Somewhere in a US Olympic training facility, thousands of portraits stamped "B.Hallward" sit in protective sleeves. It is not the manipulation aspect that bothers me, particularly- I have grown weary and become acceptant of constant and intrusive media manipulation- it is the banality of the event that must be sensationalized through the hyberbolic tales of woe that gets to me. The endless seven minute sequences of sports you don't care about spliced in with Bob Costas' studio presence and those little athlete vignettes that always start and finish with the athlete, in their gear, looking brave and heroic in the face of such stiff competition and such long odds. Something along these lines:
Some Douchebag With Skis Had Sad Childhood, NBC Reports...
Hello, readers.
I am here to make a terrible confession. I have to admit to something, before shame eats away at me like salt-laced plow-snow on the rocker panels of a '74 Dart. I am totally, ridiculously, blindingly head-over-hells in lurve with NBC's The Biggest Loser.
For those of you unfamiliar with the program, NBC finds dangerously obese Americans who share a desire to lose weight. Competing either individually or in (generally) couples or family teams, these contestants are physically-trained within an inch of their lives for ten days, whilst learning about healthy eating and whatnot. After the ten days, they are weighed, and a preliminary prize (tonight, in a 'dream wedding' themed episode, a lavish honeymoon) is given. After that, they are turned loose and return to their hometowns to do all the work themselves without trainer supervision for something like six months. Aided by numerous sepia sequences bip-bopping gooey melodies in the background, we the viewers get to see the remarkable transformation in the lives of these people as they transition from prize hog to deflated balloon. Sometimes the fat dissolves to reveal beautiful, picturesque individuals and sometimes they look like trolls in wet gunney sacks, but their delight is always evident- the patina of exploitation just cannot dull the shine these people accrue through months of grueling physical labor.
And what labor it is- a good quarter of the show is the workout sessions of these individuals, pockmarked nodes of fat wriggling about under the voluminous skin of the heifer-human hybrid huffing it through another hill climb. Now is the time to feel smug, before the hard work and restraint force you to reconsider your wicked ways and sympathize- nay, connect, with the rapidly-dimishing men and women on the picture box. Muscles and smiles and puppies and special "surprise" visits from the telegenic and intellectually unintimidating personal trainers are harnessed together for a kind of tearjerker deathray, a combination of so many instinctual cultural cues that all Americans are rendered powerless to resist. In the face of such an authentic forgery of actual human emotions, one's eyes well up as quickly as if one had been pepper sprayed. With the twin voyeuristic urges of pleasure and pain sated, the show maintains your interest with the siren song of an eventual, winner-takes-$50,000 weigh-in.
I needn't tell you that I am practically salivating by the time the two tubby teams tilt the scales at the final weigh-in, aprons of lard disappeared from their body and tingling with anticipation. Sometimes the contestants are hardly recognizable by the end, having lost as much as 94 pounds and 30+% of their body mass. The rising strings, the transformation tale of grit and determination and a high tolerance for public humiliation, all in the name of fifty thousand bucks and half column in next week's People- Fat Ass Not So Fat, Anymore- Thinks America Cares About Her Life. The story is pure Horatio Algier, the kind of inspirational influence that has driven American efforts to expand our minds and extend our abilities to their furthest- so long as there's cash in it. When I see those whittled figures take to the stage and weigh in like steer at the 4-H show, I too dream of one day being obese enough to qualify as a contestant on a fat farm TV show. It is a dream I think we all can share, having a major network pay for us to undo thirty years of neglecting our bodies and stuffing our faces, possibly even rewarding us with large cash prizes at the end. In exchange for my dignity, I would snigger at the sucker's deal I was giving them in exchange for my fifteen minutes, a home gym, and thousands in specialists' bills.
God Bless America for having an endless supply of the morbidly obese. Without the Calorie-Industrial Complex, none of this would possible. Fifty years of research have gone into creating the starchy, fatty, greasy cuisine that is the real star in this drama. When one thinks of all the poor, urban populations that this food was tested on before it was deemed worthy of more widespread distribution, the dedication of company's like RJR Nabisco is all too evident. Outside of the watchful eyes of horizontally-organized global conglomerates, a show like The Biggest Loser mightn't even be possible.
"You have won the battle of the bulge, and that makes you the biggest loser."
Oh, and the host who says that is a little porky herself- I'm just saying, special "biggest host" episode?
Ok ok, things have been slack around here. I need to make sure the rest of my life is working out properly, first of all. And that means there's a lot of work that needs to be done. So I will have some nice updates very soon, and I am sorry there aren't any rich pickins up right now.
Go to Antiwar.com if you want the rundown these days. People keep asking me what is the deal with Iran and Pakistan right now. That's an excellent question, and the million-dollar one for 2006. There is a big difference between threat perception and actual strategy right now.
It's all about propping up the US dollar and making sure there's a steady stream of petrodollars. In a nutshell, that's what I think ought to be looked at right now.
I promise something logical very soon. But first, Dan's disordered life needs to cohere, dammit!
Recently I have decided to open my heart and allow you fine people of the earth to purchase pieces of my soul. This is a small sample of what I produce. I can do custom pieces for a reasonable commission. Also, I believe I am being poisoned by the cigarettes I roll with the pages from the back of old books. I was discussing my new habit with my friend Yuriel Leggovich, and he seemed to believe that any piece of paper which I would find in my garage probably comes complete with bleach, mildew, and a number of other tantalizingly deadly chemicals. I've been weighing this consideration against the number of well known poisons in conventional cigarettes and still haven't come to a conclusion as to whether or not mine are worse. Either way, I would rather just go out and buy some pharmaceutical nicotine, and mix it in with some espresso and forever consume it that way. It seems like a more pleasant way to induce a heart attack. Still, my only problem is money. Seeing as it costs about $50 for a box of nicotine pills, I am currently screwed, also, running low on Captain Black tobacco. So please buy my art. If any of the above incompletes perk your aesthetic curiosities, simply inquire to unitedmind@gmail.com
Technorati Tags: Art, Artist, Drawing, Gallery, Original, Painting, Prints, Purchase, Retail
My face hurts. Shocking as it may be, I still haven't had my wisdom teeth pulled. Perhaps I have some superstition that I will be less wise when they get yanked.
My left jaw is all swollen up, which gives me a profile more like Dolph Lundgren or something. The wisdom teeth are very impacted, and I fear that at least one has gotten infected in its core.
This started bothering me right on New Year's Eve. On the first I called the dentist to set an appointment and they informed me that it would be referred to oral surgery specialists, who would have to get back to me in a week or two. My file seems to have finally reached the oral surgeons, so I should be able to get the operation very soon.
A final note, as I don't know if I can sum up the energy to write a lot more today. Why does all this pointless spam arrive?
From: bostjh@0733.com
Subject: Kathleen
Date: January 17, 2006 12:47:45 PM CST
To: harlan@e.thwart.net
Reply-To: bostjh@0733.com
Good day, commander,
Belcher
Bye
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
Belcher
[And now a brief word from the chairman. He's not the only one who seems to be in transition these days... --dan]
The new year has been a slow steady climb toward some point of singularity off in the infinite distance of my life. I moved back from Colorado to resume a broken relationship with a very attractive young girl who seems to have a die hard lock on my heart. However, events from the hellish year of our lord, known as 2005, have caused us to unravel in a most undesirable fashion; However, I've managed to pass off my neurosis to my sister and have acquired a new found optimism about the approaching Eschaton. We are doing a bit better, as friends, and I have high hopes for the next couple months. Just so long as I don't resume my tripping binges I should be able to maintain a head on my ego. As words and circumstance accumulate, I've discovered that reality is far more malleable than previously thought. Still though, I seem to be treading through this river upstream, inch by inch and moment by moment. Getting nowhere fast.
Today my problems at home came to head, resulting in me punching my loving father in the temple. I feel bad about it, but on the other hand it was a near primordial reaction. In the midst of a heated argument over the usual nothing of family matters. I launched myself across the kitchen to find something. He standing in the way assumed I was attacking him and grabbed my shirt. My gut instinct these days when something of that nature occurs is to start beating the shit out of the person's face. Why? Because during my time in Colorado I have been attacked my two Crusties, a nazi, and a fat kid. I managed to survive each incident by the sheer luck that my cousin is a very strong violent kid wielding Nanchaku! Anyway, so I've developed a sort of instinctual reaction to punch any threat directly in the temple. As a result I hit my dad! Fucked up. I felt terrible almost immediately, but still being in fight mode, I threw him off me, and ran for the door.
Once outside I decided I needed a cigarette, but had nothing but a small amount of captain black. So I searched the garage and found an old Isaac Asimov book, titled Foundation's Edge. For those unfamiliar with the series, or author. Asimov wrote something like 3,900 books throughout his lifetime. Pretty fucking amazing, and the Foundation series were the coolest. It was about a developed science known as Psychohistory. Manipulating this science was a dead man who put a plan into action known as the Foundation. The purpose was to create senarios in which only one outcome was available. Basically, its like the Modest Mouse song... The universe works on a math equation and it can be manipulated.
Point is, I tore a page out of the back and used it to roll the most perfect cigarette I have EVER smoked. Also, Asimov papers have a very esoteric flavor. Wonderful. Now before I trail into any other boring topics, I'm going to go to bed.
Call the Cave of Shadows the Cave already! As we find ourselves hip-deep in propaganda, it's hard to know where to turn. Such strange web conspiracy theories as the Chappelle Theory briefly amuse us, but these are just the zeitgeist products of an insane time. The Cosby Theory, a follow-on satire of Chappelle Theory, explains the terrible conspiracy of the Cosby Sweaters. (the guys who dreamed up the Chappelle Theory were advised by their lawyers to let everyone know it's totally fake).
Some guy mocked me in the comments, implying I believed that the Chappelle Theory was real. I said that "The site looks good, it tells an exciting tale. In other words it's another well-marketed conspiracy theory thing," and I picked out a quote of Oprah ranting about her infinite power like a Bond villain. I thought it was a well-crafted example of that sort of site, but at no point did I claim it was real, although it prompted me to reflect that Chappelle might have been threatened somewhere along the way, and some of the 'Dark Crusaders' may have negatively reacted to Chappelle. (It was indeed well-marketed. They are now selling Dark Crusaders t-shirts.)
These days, there is a pretty thick distance between what we're presented with, and the Objective Truth that I still suspect exists somewhere. This site has been unafraid to link to raving lunatics, angry Iraqis, neoconservative screeds and gibbering Freemason spotters. I'm not looking over their shoulder, so how can I trust them any differently than, say, Scott McClellan or the Associated Press?
As we learned from such works as The Illuminatus! Trilogy, a conspiracy theory can offer a direct conjecture about a certain set of facts or circumstances, but it can also show an alternate style of linking events and people together.
A goofy conspiracy theory centered on pop culture is a kind of prism that reflects the basic weirdness of our times. When it's executed with style, I'll mention it because its logical form — apart from its literal content — can help induce a bit of a mindfuck, a unit of guerilla ontology to the everyday grind, imploding assumptions.
For example, when I mentioned to my family this crazy Chappelle Theory, they immediately leapt to Oprah's defense. How would Oprah ever threaten anyone?! She's a paragon of sassy afternoon virtue!!"
Aha!" said I, tanked on a bit of Sierra Nevada Celebration Ale. "Why do you leap to praise her automatically? She's just some billionaire! This silly theory reveals that you have all sorts of biased, programmed instincts to defend the wealthy & powerful, etc etc..."
The point is that we live in an Disinformation Age, and a wobbly conspiracy theory can help show you why Conventional Wisdom is just as shaky. As I have detailed here, we invaded Iraq partly because Iranian intelligence agents fed lurid stories about nuclear weapons through Chalabi's Iraqi National Congress into the Pentagon and the Vice President's office. That's part of the history of our times, and it's pretty damned conspiratorial. It sets the bar for intrigue, I think it's fair to say.
The sources of supposedly 'clean & authoritative information' in our information economy utterly failed to figure this out in time, and they still haven't come clean about it.
I long ago decided that only by monitoring the widest possible spectrum of rhetoric and information can a rough sense or useful 'heuristic' of any given political theater be reached. So I can't be afraid to reflect on what anyone from Charles Krauthammer to Wayne Madsen to DEBKAfile to Hezbollah's Al Manar is talking about. You can't achieve more intellectual accuracy by boycotting Mother Jones.
When yet another slickly executed Conspiracy Theory tale comes along, as they always do, I'll often toss it up here because it shows that the Dominant Narrative and Tacit Assumptions are often just as ridiculous. The battle for perceptions runs deep these days; the war is between your ears and behind your eyes.
The issue of Information Warfare is going to be a hot one next year, but we ought to take it all with a sense of good humor and a strong drug regimen to keep our minds limber, as the Dude put it.
To some extent, all political rhetoric rests on gestures toward phantasmic workings, a secret esoteric logic — either hidden actors, or Principles such as Freedom arranged by that mysterious Other 'Calling from beyond the Stars' for Dear Leader. As Ariel Sharon put it recently, "You see things from here [as PM] that you don't see from there [an outsider]." This is the 'appeal to authority' argument, and the Authorities cash out the fallacy as far as they can.
Plato spelled out this basic political principle for us in the Allegory of the Caves, when he said that only the select can reach the World of True Forms, while the rest would just watch projections. He meant that a good leader better be able to dream up some fine-sounding esoteric Forms to tell the tribe at the campfire. An objectively false 'conspiracy' can still illustrate how these grand Authoritative and Legitimate Sources are just a couple notches up from the tribal shaman.
Botox is the new charmed skull on a stick, the Brookings Institution is nothing but the 21st century's beard-stroking witch doctor.
Of course, as an atheist I must consider all spiritual appeals as possibly having this basic political purpose at their core, even if part of the intention is self-deception, rather than purely manipulating the audience.
Again we must return to the words of Hasan i Sabah, the leader of the Assassins. "Nothing is True, Everything is Permitted." Surely, Karl Rove is his truest disciple, and I'll set the ideological filters for my site's content accordingly.
<Chairman Mao has a holiday report from the field for us. He is out in Colorado where his employer periodically accuses him of stealing (then find the cash in the office). We will have some other folks checking in soon as well.--Dan>
The season of seasons is here. Wintertime holidays. Thousands of people, who stay dormant within their houses for most of the year, flood the streets and shopping malls. Causing far more crime and mayhem than they're worth. Who are these people, you ask? They are your weird neighbors who never say hello and watch you from their windows. Or more often they are the millions of MTV drones who occupy what we conscious people call the 'Dead Zones.'
Little pockets of dense, stupid thought spread like a plague across the United States. Usually found around high schools and colleges. The people stuck in these daily routines of refusing to think wind up doing nothing more than sitting around watching tv, and maybe getting high, snorting Vicodin.
They see commercials advertising Christmas, making fun of Channukah, whatever. Sooner or later they will dare to set a foot outside to see what the fuss is all about. Inevitably making it no further than a few blocks before they collide with something at sixty miles an hour and blame it on 'black ice.'
However, despite the odds, some of these terrors on culture actually manage to make it to their destination, somehow... This is when the real problems start. If you have ever worked in retail you can probably identify the incompetent without even blinking. They wander around aimlessly and touch everything, refusing to read signs and accidently stealing merchandise. Oh well, happy holidays...
This was an excellent holiday weekend for me, caught up with lots of people, found out who is far-flung and to where. I will not gossip about the details, but I feel like I'm properly in touch with most of my circles of friends nowadays, which makes me feel much more comfortable in my skin.
Drunk fun with the office copy machine -- who has to fix it afterwards?
NATIONAL JOURNAL: Key Bush Intelligence Briefing Kept From Hill Panel
Ten days after the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, President Bush was told in a highly classified briefing that the U.S. intelligence community had no evidence linking the Iraqi regime of Saddam Hussein to the attacks and that there was scant credible evidence that Iraq had any significant collaborative ties with Al Qaeda, according to government records and current and former officials with firsthand knowledge of the matter.
The hit parade continues. More via Booman Tribune and DKos. The details are ugly and incriminating.
Tony Blair is going to pieces.
Smokin in the coal mine: Peter Gartrell wrote a story carried in quite a few papers about a program to get coal miners to quit smoking. Their lungs must be in terrible shape anyway...
Air Power in Iraq: Sudden talk that the US will withdraw ground forces and perhaps grant Iraqis the power to call in airstrikes, as Sy Hersh put in the New Yorker put it (as covered by the Guardian, Stygius, DailyKos - with terrifying bits from a CNN Hersh interview, and as always Juan Cole). Bush is having some messianic visions again, but hey, at least Ahmadi-Nejad is too.
More headline chunks: US says Iraq insurgents can be 'part of solution': US 're-evaluates' its position after initially expressed dissatisfaction with Cairo meeting statement 'right of people to resistance'. Juan Cole talks about what the insurgents told the CIA in Cairo.
In the broader context, Bush really did want al-Jazeera gone when he purportedly suggested bombing it. Crazed old neo-con Frank Gaffney approves of bombing al Jazeera. And Michael Jackson blames the Jews for his money woes.
Interesting site: DefenseTech. With regards to the Syria thing, UN chief: Arab leaders worried Syria could become the next Iraq. 19 different UAVs operate in Iraq, but how many can solve the situation? On the plus side, a UAV to deliver medical supplies has been invented.
Zarqawi-Goldstein, part 239: the great terrorist is a cartoon character. It was doubted last year. And Marshall puts a bit in on that. Less skeptical, the Zarqawi dilemma.
The Pentagon said that White Phosphorus was a chemical weapon, when Saddam was using it. How ironic. (this is the declassified doc) JawaReport on Iraq Gun Porn: Which Guns Suck, Which Guns Rock. The Rummy-Blitzer exchange is amazing.
This is sort of funny. The Weekly Standard is going to save the day and prove that Saddam had WMDs and was in fact, Osama's boyfriend. Good work. Daou gives us the ten major pro-war fallacies in case we forgot.
For the obsessively detail oriented, Lesser Neocons of L'Affaire Plame (featuring our man 'Clean Break' Wurmser). Fortunately I merely skimmed it. Raimondo cackles about the Feast of Scandal for Thanksgiving.
Raimondo also pokes around the waters of anti-Semitism that apparently are now getting somehow spun towards Chris Matthews -- as an excuse for Scooter leaking him Valerie Plame's name. I am not sure this makes sense. However, Raimondo adds that Wilson once said the following:
"The real agenda in all of this of course, was to redraw the political map of the Middle East. Now that is code, whether you like it or not, but it is code for putting into place the strategy memorandum that was done by Richard Perle and his study group in the mid-90's which was called, 'A Clean Break: A New Strategy for the Realm.' And what it is – cut to the quick – is if you take out some of these countries, some of these governments that are antagonistic to Israel then you provide the Israeli government with greater wherewithal to impose its terms and conditions upon the Palestinian people – whatever those terms and conditions might be. In other words, the road to peace in the Middle East goes through Baghdad and Damascus. Maybe Tehran. And maybe Cairo and maybe Tripoli if these guys actually have their way. Rather than going through Jerusalem."
So the anti-Clean Break Conspiracy was also anti-Semitic, which legitimatized leaking Plame's name?
Crazed Mercenaries and their video cameras: There is apparently some creepy video of Iraqi civilian cars getting blown up by the good folks at Aegis Defence Services, a privatized military firm set up Lt Col Tim Spicer -- the former director of Sandline International, a defunct company that used to sell arms to the guys in Sierra Leone, along the shadier side of geopolitics. AegisIraq.co.uk was the site the video was on. (CSM on the story)
There is of course pretty much no congressional oversight of the vast mercenary army in Iraq. (more on Aegis, Sandline and Executive Outcomes - here's even more!) The more one thinks about private armies, the more it seems like an amazingly self-reinforcing arrangement. Capitalism-squared, you might say.
Kurt Vonnegut said that terrorist die for their own self-respect. That is fairly insightful, but of course draws flack from much wiser keyboard commandos.
"What George Bush and his gang did not realise was that people fight back. Peace wasn't restored in Vietnam until we got kicked out. Everything's quiet there now."
There's a long pause before Vonnegut speaks again: "It is sweet and noble - sweet and honourable I guess it is - to die for what you believe in."
....I ask one more question: "But terrorists believe in twisted religious things, don't they? So surely that can't be right?"
"Well, they're dying for their own self-respect," Vonnegut fires back. "It's a terrible thing to deprive someone of their self-respect. It's [like] your culture is nothing, your race is nothing, you're nothing."
There's another long pause and Vonnegut's eyes suggest his mind has wandered off somewhere. Then, suddenly, he turns back to me and says: "It must be an amazing high."
The CIA wants Dr. Phil's tactics for Guantanamo. Well, maybe it's an improvement.
The UK Ministry of Defense complains that farmers are shining lights at their Apache helicopters around Dorset -- and they think this could could cause a crash. Huh.
Iran Spring?? (Foreign Policy) Realists Tighten Grip as Talks Open with Iran by Jim Lobe. Why bother getting into the gory details? But I will say that Lobe is really an excellent source on this stuff & the neo-cons. Basically the point is that the neo-cons have been discredited, and the 'realists' are getting the upper hand finally.
Washington's growing reliance on and support for regional diplomacy marks a serious setback to neo-conservatives who, long before the Iraq war, had championed the unilateral imposition of a Pax Americana in the Middle East that would put an end to what in their view constituted the chief threats to Israel's security -- Arab nationalism and Iranian theocracy.
Now, two and a half years after invading Iraq to put that peace into place, the administration finds itself seeking the support of both forces, just as the realists had warned.
Check out this huge statement that Iran purchased in the NY Times. In particular that they haven't started a war of aggression against their neighbors in 250 years. I think that the way that various parties have managed the ethnic groups on the periphery was not exactly polite over that time... either way the demonization will continue.
BBC: Doubts grow over US Afghan strategy.
Internet hug transmission: Scientists in Singapore are developing a way to 'transmit hugs' over the Internet through vibrating jackets.
The Drunkard's Guide to Poker. What if hackers ruled the world? New Firefox. Something in the ocean goes Boing.
Big Bang in Israel: It's very big news that Sharon has decided to quit the Likud Party and go for elections. Alongside this, there is a younger leftist in charge of the Labor Party now, so suddenly the meanest part of the Israeli right-wing -- the faction that opposed even the Gaza pullout -- will likely find itself without any power in the next Israeli government.
Let me press all these Haaretz headlines together into one mush. 11 Israelis injured, at least 4 Hezbollah gunmen killed in failed kidnap attempt. Hezbollah releases video footage of [last] Monday's fighting. PM to offer PA independence for security. Eyeing Likud leadership, Mofaz, Shalom lambaste Netanyahu. Israel maintains its strategic advantage, says Jaffee Center. Poll: 25% of settlers east of fence prepared to leave homes.
Oh Sharon: graphic from excellent Haartez article. "Sharon knows the Likud was not a done deal."