I want to name this something different; I just havent' figured out what yet.
Hard at work compiling the top 25 of '06 list. As of this mostly completed list, long-time followers could probably guess the top 2 songs. No one is in the top 25 twice, though, as of right now.
Industry Rule #4,080: no local terrestrial radio is playing "Idlewild Blue", John Mayer's "Waiting On the World To Change", or Regina Spektor's "Fidelity". Criminal, especially the latter. It breaks my hea ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah artttttt...but enough sidebar banter.
15. London Bridge (Oh, Shit) ¤ Fergie (debut) 14. White Gurl ¤ E-40 feat. Juelz Santana & Bun B (debut) 13. Work It Out ¤ Jurassic 5 feat. Dave Matthews (12) 12. Here It Goes Again ¤ OK Go (10) 11. Gone Daddy Gone ¤ Gnarls Barkley (11)
10. Money Maker ¤ Ludacris feat. Pharrell (debut) 9. I Will Follow You Into The Dark ¤ Death Cab For Cutie (13)* 8. Promiscuous ¤ Nelly Furtado feat. Timbaland (5) 7. Idlewild Blue (Don't 'Chu Worry 'Bout Me) ¤ Andre 3000 (4) 6. U & Dat ¤ E-40 feat. T-Pain (8)*
5. When You Were Young ¤ the Killers (7)* 4. Tell Me Baby ¤ Red Hot Chili Peppers (6)*
The headlines about them are, of course, entirely wrong.
It is not essential that a past president, bullied and sandbagged by a monkey posing as a newscaster, finally lashed back.
It is not important that the current President’s portable public chorus has described his predecessor’s tone as “crazed.”
Our tone should be crazed. The nation’s freedoms are under assault by an administration whose policies can do us as much damage as al Qaida; the nation’s marketplace of ideas is being poisoned by a propaganda company so blatant that Tokyo Rose would’ve quit.
Nonetheless. The headline is this: Bill Clinton did what almost none of us have done in five years.
He has spoken the truth about 9/11, and the current presidential administration.
"At least I tried," he said of his own efforts to capture or kill Osama bin Laden. "That’s the difference in me and some, including all of the right-wingers who are attacking me now. They had eight months to try; they did not try. I tried."
Thus in his supposed emeritus years has Mr. Clinton taken forceful and triumphant action for honesty, and for us; action as vital and as courageous as any of his presidency; action as startling and as liberating, as any, by any one, in these last five long years.
The Bush Administration did not try to get Osama bin Laden before 9/11.
The Bush Administration ignored all the evidence gathered by its predecessors.
The Bush Administration did not understand the Daily Briefing entitled "Bin Laden Determined To Strike in U.S."
The Bush Administration did not try.
Moreover, for the last five years one month and two weeks, the current administration, and in particular the President, has been given the greatest “pass” for incompetence and malfeasance in American history!
President Roosevelt was rightly blamed for ignoring the warning signs—some of them, 17 years old—before Pearl Harbor.
President Hoover was correctly blamed for—if not the Great Depression itself—then the disastrous economic steps he took in the immediate aftermath of the Stock Market Crash.
Even President Lincoln assumed some measure of responsibility for the Civil War—though talk of Southern secession had begun as early as 1832.
But not this president.
To hear him bleat and whine and bully at nearly every opportunity, one would think someone else had been president on September 11th, 2001 -- or the nearly eight months that preceded it.
That hardly reflects the honesty nor manliness we expect of the executive.
But if his own fitness to serve is of no true concern to him, perhaps we should simply sigh and keep our fingers crossed, until a grown-up takes the job three Januarys from now.
Except for this.
After five years of skirting even the most inarguable of facts—that he was president on 9/11 and he must bear some responsibility for his, and our, unreadiness, Mr. Bush has now moved, unmistakably and without conscience or shame, towards re-writing history, and attempting to make the responsibility, entirely Mr. Clinton’s.
Of course he is not honest enough to do that directly.
As with all the other nefariousness and slime of this, our worst presidency since James Buchanan, he is having it done for him, by proxy.
Thus, the sandbag effort by Fox News Friday afternoon.
Consider the timing: the very weekend the National Intelligence Estimate would be released and show the Iraq war to be the fraudulent failure it is—not a check on terror, but fertilizer for it.
The kind of proof of incompetence, for which the administration and its hyenas at Fox need to find a diversion, in a scapegoat.
It was the kind of cheap trick which would get a journalist fired—but a propagandist, promoted: promise to talk of charity and generosity; but instead launch into the lies and distortions with which the Authoritarians among us attack the virtuous and reward the useless.
And don’t even be professional enough to assume the responsibility for the slanders yourself; blame your audience for “e-mailing” you the question.
Mr. Clinton responded as you have seen.
He told the great truth untold about this administration’s negligence, perhaps criminal negligence, about bin Laden.
He was brave.
Then again, Chris Wallace might be braver still. Had I in one moment surrendered all my credibility as a journalist, and been irredeemably humiliated, as was he, I would have gone home and started a new career selling seeds by mail.
The smearing by proxy, of course, did not begin Friday afternoon.
Disney was first to sell-out its corporate reputation, with "The Path to 9/11." Of that company’s crimes against truth one needs to say little. Simply put: someone there enabled an Authoritarian zealot to belch out Mr. Bush’s new and improved history.
The basic plot-line was this: because he was distracted by the Monica Lewinsky scandal, Bill Clinton failed to prevent 9/11.
The most curious and in some ways the most infuriating aspect of this slapdash theory, is that the Right Wingers who have advocated it—who try to sneak it into our collective consciousness through entertainment, or who sandbag Mr. Clinton with it at news interviews—have simply skipped past its most glaring flaw.
Had it been true that Clinton had been distracted from the hunt for bin Laden in 1998 because of the Monica Lewinsky nonsense, why did these same people not applaud him for having bombed bin Laden’s camps in Afghanistan and Sudan on Aug. 20, of that year? For mentioning bin Laden by name as he did so?
That day, Republican Senator Grams of Minnesota invoked the movie "Wag The Dog."
Republican Senator Coats of Indiana questioned Mr. Clinton’s judgment.
Republican Senator Ashcroft of Missouri—the future attorney general—echoed Coats.
Even Republican Senator Arlen Specter questioned the timing.
And of course, were it true Clinton had been “distracted” by the Lewinsky witch-hunt, who on earth conducted the Lewinsky witch-hunt?
Who turned the political discourse of this nation on its head for two years?
Who corrupted the political media?
Who made it impossible for us to even bring back on the air, the counter-terrorism analysts like Dr. Richard Haass, and James Dunegan, who had warned, at this very hour, on this very network, in early 1998, of cells from the Middle East who sought to attack us, here?
Who preempted them in order to strangle us with the trivia that was, “All Monica All The Time”?
Who distracted whom?
This is, of course, where—as is inevitable—Mr. Bush and his henchmen prove not quite as smart as they think they are.
The full responsibility for 9/11 is obviously shared by three administrations, possibly four.
But, Mr. Bush, if you are now trying to convince us by proxy that it’s all about the distractions of 1998 and 1999, then you will have to face a startling fact that your minions may have hidden from you.
The distractions of 1998 and 1999, Mr. Bush, were carefully manufactured, and lovingly executed, not by Bill Clinton, but by the same people who got you elected President.
Thus, instead of some commendable acknowledgment that you were even in office on 9/11 and the lost months before it, we have your sleazy and sloppy rewriting of history, designed by somebody who evidently read the Orwell playbook too quickly.
Thus, instead of some explanation for the inertia of your first eight months in office, we are told that you have kept us "safe" ever since—a statement that might range anywhere from zero, to 100 percent, true.
We have nothing but your word, and your word has long since ceased to mean anything.
And, of course, the one time you have ever given us specifics about what you have kept us safe from, Mr. Bush, you got the name of the supposedly targeted Tower in Los Angeles wrong.
Thus was it left for the previous president to say what so many of us have felt; what so many of us have given you a pass for in the months and even the years after the attack:
You did not try.
You ignored the evidence gathered by your predecessor.
You ignored the evidence gathered by your own people. Then, you blamed your predecessor.
That would be a textbook definition, Mr. Bush, of cowardice.
To enforce the lies of the present, it is necessary to erase the truths of the past.
That was one of the great mechanical realities Eric Blair—writing as George Orwell—gave us in the book “1984.” The great philosophical reality he gave us, Mr. Bush, may sound as familiar to you, as it has lately begun to sound familiar to me.
"The Party seeks power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power... Power is not a means; it is an end. One does not establish a dictatorship to safeguard a revolution; one makes the revolution in order to establish the dictatorship.
"The object of persecution, is persecution. The object of torture, is torture. The object of power… is power."
Earlier last Friday afternoon, before the Fox ambush, speaking in the far different context of the closing session of his remarkable Global Initiative, Mr. Clinton quoted Abraham Lincoln’s State of the Union address from 1862.
"We must disenthrall ourselves."
Mr. Clinton did not quote the rest of Mr. Lincoln’s sentence. He might well have: "We must disenthrall ourselves and then we shall save our country."
And so has Mr. Clinton helped us to disenthrall ourselves, and perhaps enabled us, even at this late and bleak date, to save our country.
The "free pass" has been withdrawn, Mr. Bush.
You did not act to prevent 9/11.
We do not know what you have done to prevent another 9/11.
You have failed us—then leveraged that failure, to justify a purposeless war in Iraq which will have, all too soon, claimed more American lives than did 9/11.
You have failed us anew in Afghanistan.
And you have now tried to hide your failures, by blaming your predecessor.
And now you exploit your failure, to rationalize brazen torture which doesn’t work anyway; which only condemns our soldiers to water-boarding; which only humiliates our country further in the world; and which no true American would ever condone, let alone advocate.
Before the greatest e-mail ever, three simple things you need to know.
1) MySpace.
2) Don't know this guy.
3) Don't know a Roshawnda.
But here it is, verbatim:
IF YOU ARE CHOPPIN IT UP WIT ROSHAWNDA, NIGGA WATCH OUT SHE IS A STRAIGHT SLUT. SHE WAS AT MY PAD LAST NIGHT WIT MY DICK IN HER MOUTH. SHE IS ON HER PERIOD THATS WHY I DIDNT FUCK. THE BITCH IS A LIAR AND SHE BE FUCKIN HELLA NIGGAZ. SHE GOT OUT OF BED AND CAME TO MY PAD AND SUCKED ME UP. I TRIED TO HIT THE ASS BUT SHE COULDNT TAKE IT.SHE WANTED ME TO HIT WITH NO RUBBER BUT I TOLD HER HELL NAW. SHE FELL ASLEEP ON THE COUCH UNTIL LIKE 4 IN DA MORNIN. JUST GIVIN YOU A HEADZ UP. SHE AINT SHIT. AND SHE GOT A GANG OF KIDS. YEAH DAT !!!!!
Rather than talk about this encompassing depression or the Last Kiss being good but not Garden State good (oh, how KS will enjoy this movie) or this being the 500th post...TCB.
DROPS: "Me & U" (12) "Mr. Me Too" (13)
15. It's Goin' Down ¤ Yung Joc (8) 14. Original Fire ¤ Audioslave (return) 13. I Will Follow You Into The Dark ¤ Death Cab For Cutie (15)* 12. Work It Out ¤ Jurassic 5 feat. Dave Matthews (return) 11. Gone Daddy Gone ¤ Gnarls Barkley (10)
10. Here It Goes Again ¤ OK Go (9) 9. Deja Vu ¤ Beyonce feat. Jay-Z (4) 8. U & Dat ¤ E-40 feat. T-Pain (7) 7. When You Were Young ¤ the Killers (14)* 6. Tell Me Baby ¤ Red Hot Chili Peppers (11)*
5. Promiscuous ¤ Nelly Furtado feat. Timbaland (3) 4. Idlewild Blue (Don't Chu Worry 'Bout Me) ¤ Andre 3000 (6)*
POSTSCRIPT: The funeral's on Monday, which you think would be redundant. And yet. Thanks to everybody from pretty much everywhere for all the condolences and well-wishes. I would like to point out to everyone that there is a difference between being sad and being surprised, though.
Half a lifetime ago, I worked in this now-empty space. And for 40 days after the attacks, I worked here again, trying to make sense of what happened, and was yet to happen, as a reporter.
All the time, I knew that the very air I breathed contained the remains of thousands of people, including four of my friends, two in the planes and -- as I discovered from those "missing posters" seared still into my soul -- two more in the Towers.
And I knew too, that this was the pyre for hundreds of New York policemen and firemen, of whom my family can claim half a dozen or more, as our ancestors.
I belabor this to emphasize that, for me this was, and is, and always shall be, personal.
And anyone who claims that I and others like me are "soft,"or have "forgotten" the lessons of what happened here is at best a grasping, opportunistic, dilettante and at worst, an idiot whether he is a commentator, or a Vice President, or a President.
However, of all the things those of us who were here five years ago could have forecast -- of all the nightmares that unfolded before our eyes, and the others that unfolded only in our minds -- none of us could have predicted this.
Five years later this space is still empty.
Five years later there is no memorial to the dead.
Five years later there is no building rising to show with proud defiance that we would not have our America wrung from us, by cowards and criminals.
Five years later this country's wound is still open.
Five years later this country's mass grave is still unmarked.
Five years later this is still just a background for a photo-op.
It is beyond shameful.
At the dedication of the Gettysburg Memorial -- barely four months after the last soldier staggered from another Pennsylvania field -- Mr. Lincoln said, "we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract."
Lincoln used those words to immortalize their sacrifice.
Today our leaders could use those same words to rationalize their reprehensible inaction. "We cannot dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground." So we won't.
Instead they bicker and buck pass. They thwart private efforts, and jostle to claim credit for initiatives that go nowhere. They spend the money on irrelevant wars, and elaborate self-congratulations, and buying off columnists to write how good a job they're doing instead of doing any job at all.
Five years later, Mr. Bush, we are still fighting the terrorists on these streets. And look carefully, sir, on these 16 empty acres. The terrorists are clearly, still winning.
And, in a crime against every victim here and every patriotic sentiment you mouthed but did not enact, you have done nothing about it.
And there is something worse still than this vast gaping hole in this city, and in the fabric of our nation. There is its symbolism of the promise unfulfilled, the urgent oath, reduced to lazy execution.
The only positive on 9/11 and the days and weeks that so slowly and painfully followed it was the unanimous humanity, here, and throughout the country. The government, the President in particular, was given every possible measure of support.
Those who did not belong to his party -- tabled that.
Those who doubted the mechanics of his election -- ignored that.
Those who wondered of his qualifications -- forgot that.
History teaches us that nearly unanimous support of a government cannot be taken away from that government by its critics. It can only be squandered by those who use it not to heal a nation's wounds, but to take political advantage.
Terrorists did not come and steal our newly-regained sense of being American first, and political, fiftieth. Nor did the Democrats. Nor did the media. Nor did the people.
The President -- and those around him -- did that.
They promised bi-partisanship, and then showed that to them, "bi-partisanship" meant that their party would rule and the rest would have to follow, or be branded, with ever-escalating hysteria, as morally or intellectually confused, as appeasers, as those who, in the Vice President's words yesterday, "validate the strategy of the terrorists."
They promised protection, and then showed that to them "protection" meant going to war against a despot whose hand they had once shaken, a despot who we now learn from our own Senate Intelligence Committee, hated al-Qaida as much as we did.
The polite phrase for how so many of us were duped into supporting a war, on the false premise that it had 'something to do' with 9/11 is "lying by implication."
The impolite phrase is "impeachable offense."
Not once in now five years has this President ever offered to assume responsibility for the failures that led to this empty space, and to this, the current, curdled, version of our beloved country.
Still, there is a last snapping flame from a final candle of respect and fairness: even his most virulent critics have never suggested he alone bears the full brunt of the blame for 9/11.
Half the time, in fact, this President has been so gently treated, that he has seemed not even to be the man most responsible for anything in his own administration.
Yet what is happening this very night?
A mini-series, created, influenced -- possibly financed by -- the most radical and cold of domestic political Machiavellis, continues to be televised into our homes.
The documented truths of the last fifteen years are replaced by bald-faced lies; the talking points of the current regime parroted; the whole sorry story blurred, by spin, to make the party out of office seem vacillating and impotent, and the party in office, seem like the only option.
How dare you, Mr. President, after taking cynical advantage of the unanimity and love, and transmuting it into fraudulent war and needless death, after monstrously transforming it into fear and suspicion and turning that fear into the campaign slogan of three elections? How dare you -- or those around you -- ever "spin" 9/11?
Just as the terrorists have succeeded -- are still succeeding -- as long as there is no memorial and no construction here at Ground Zero.
So, too, have they succeeded, and are still succeeding as long as this government uses 9/11 as a wedge to pit Americans against Americans.
This is an odd point to cite a television program, especially one from March of 1960. But as Disney's continuing sell-out of the truth (and this country) suggests, even television programs can be powerful things.
And long ago, a series called "The Twilight Zone" broadcast a riveting episode entitled "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street."
In brief: a meteor sparks rumors of an invasion by extra-terrestrials disguised as humans. The electricity goes out. A neighbor pleads for calm. Suddenly his car -- and only his car -- starts. Someone suggests he must be the alien. Then another man's lights go on. As charges and suspicion and panic overtake the street, guns are inevitably produced. An "alien" is shot -- but he turns out to be just another neighbor, returning from going for help. The camera pulls back to a near-by hill, where two extra-terrestrials are seen manipulating a small device that can jam electricity. The veteran tells his novice that there's no need to actually attack, that you just turn off a few of the human machines and then, "they pick the most dangerous enemy they can find, and it's themselves."
And then, in perhaps his finest piece of writing, Rod Serling sums it up with words of remarkable prescience, given where we find ourselves tonight: "The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices, to be found only in the minds of men.
"For the record, prejudices can kill and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all its own -- for the children, and the children yet unborn."
When those who dissent are told time and time again -- as we will be, if not tonight by the President, then tomorrow by his portable public chorus -- that he is preserving our freedom, but that if we use any of it, we are somehow un-American...When we are scolded, that if we merely question, we have "forgotten the lessons of 9/11"... look into this empty space behind me and the bi-partisanship upon which this administration also did not build, and tell me:
BUSH:Family moving. I think Imelda Marcos has been passing herself off as my mother since the nineties, to say nothing of all the bullshit my brother/now roomate has got on him. I came to the realization Tuesday me moving solo would take less time than Goodfellas, exempting the cable, Internet and phone service. I am a complicated man who tries to keep his life simple. Everyone else is nowhere near done.
BUSH:So Steve Irwin dies and Paris Hilton gets arrested and Linday Lohan whips her lips out--and I'm completely Amish during this time period. Faboo.
ALBA:I like the new digs, actually. Pool, air conditioning, 10-minute walk to a semimajor mall with the old grocery store staples I had at the old place. And I've seen more cute neighbors in 3 days then I did the past couple years at the Rosserdence v3.0. Whether they're all legal or not is a story that remains to be told. It's going to be a problem in me staying out Saturday nights; without a ride home I'll need to crash at Grandma's. But the ups outweigh the downs handily so far.
BUSH:So there's six plugs in our room. We're using 2. There's a phone jack we don't need. And we have no cable. And I can't get the basic channels on myour TV yet. "Gee, Homer, you sure seem awfully calm..." "I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!" You guys come back to BR.net and my whole family's slaughtered, I owe you a Coke.
BUSH:The cable in the living room is slightly off, though I haven't figured out how or why yet. And I am at the library doing this because the pins in the mouse aren't getting through to the back and of course, are the last thing standing between Internet access at home and I.
ALBA:I am having quite the library renaissance with all of the unemployed and the need to get the hell away from the family every so often. Maybe the selection's improved. Maybe because I can get a computer with no fuss and non-major waits. Maybe they've hired more hot girls here then I've seen since I realized girls didn't have cooties, or if they did I should be trying to get some. Some combination of the above.
PUSH: Computer's in the living room. I don't have the total autonomy I once did and am going to have to time my NC-17 sites and bytes now; at the same time without it being in my room I won't have to worry about Mom deciding 1:30 is a good time to recheck her e-mail.
ALBA:The Go-Go Mega 8 last Sunday. Actually, this is one of those Swiss doll sort of things (maybe I'm thinking of Russian dolls, non-tennis player division? Someone get back to me on that). Lessee: got so close to the dancers you could see individual abs move while dancing. Check. Saw my hot friend Chloe MC it, even though she could've won. Check. Saw old friends for the first time in over 6 months and this time didn't walk right out into somebody getting homicided? Check. Got unbelievable novel inspiration? Check.
Oh, that. Anyhow, I got there early, and the DJ spun a bunch of old, old shit I love. De La, some Tribe, "It's Like That", "Supersonic"--had I had the hooch in me and/or it have been later it definitely would've been breakdancing time. Said DJ was about 5'3", 100 pounds maybe, and blonde. Cute, too. [This leads into a whole art v. commerce thing of is she cute because she plays De La or does she play De La and happen to be cute--don't know, don't care.] This story--or something inspired by this story--needs to be told. And my NaNo idea has been sitting on the shelf. I think I'm getting into the internal combustion engine, cranking a few gears, and getting that sumbitch back on the road when the time comes. Would've been nice to have more people around, but TWISFI.
ALBA:I don't even need to know how, but Nu Shooz's "I Can't Wait" is becoming a old school club staple. 1) Yes, please. 2) Can you throw on some "Point Of No Return" to bookend it?
BUSH:I'm no medicial expert, but Grandma being .5 away from dialysis--there's no good way to spin that, is there?
ALBA:It's recently come back to my attention the first season of Sports Night was really something.
ALBA:Despite the fact we don't have our own rooms anymore, my brother and I are getting along better than ever. Tuesday, we kept ourselves sane during a ricockulous 14-hour move by playing an offshoot of Dozens called Your TV's So Old... (By the way--giant wood and steel TV. Going down steps. BUSH.) Favorite lines included "...the first time you turned it on, the #1 show was CSI: Bethlehem!", "...it just came in white because black hadn't been invented yet!", "...the first thing you saw was the Olsen Twins eating; then again, it was Full House", and my own and my brother's favorite, "...back then he wasn't Fat Joe, he was Might Like Snacks A Little Too Much Joe".
ALBA:LaVar Arrington comparing the Giants D to VOLTRON, followed by a lengthy explanation of how Voltron works in the article for the uneducated. I hope the Giants win everything ever except when it'd blow up my fantasy teams for that. (Go Skins--more to the point, go Brunell to Moss. Double points, man.)
BUSH:For the love of Alba people, you are not bringing sexy back. Stop it, just stop it. You should be like me and just remain sexy and then that way you don't need to be making no extra trip to bring it back. But what the shit do I know?
ALBA:Right at my time of barrel-scraping, someone will be buying a phone off me tomorrow and reliving some pressure off my self for a little bit. Got another interview Tuesday, maybe a possible job. Gotta stay up on it this weekend.
BUSH:I'm so horribly addicted to the Internet it's not amusing. If I hadn't been so deadassed tired the past few days I might've tried putting a phone jack in my arm to get the high back. At least I know, and knowing is half the battle. I think.
London Bridge (Oh, Shit)Fergie (Butch hears ya. Butch don't care.)
DROPS: The entire bottom third of the last countdown: "Ain't No Other Man", "Work It Out", "Move Along", "Original Fire", and "Number One".
15. I Will Follow You Into The Dark ¤ Death Cab For Cutie (debut) 14. When You Were Young ¤ the Killers (debut) 13. Mr. Me Too ¤ Clipse feat. Pharrell (10) 12. Me & U ¤ Cassie (8) 11. Tell Me Baby ¤ Red Hot Chili Peppers (9)
10. Gone Daddy Gone ¤ Gnarls Barkley (debut) 9. Here It Goes Again ¤ OK Go (debut) 8. It's Goin' Down ¤ Yung Joc (6) 7. U & Dat ¤ E-40 feat. T-Pain (7)* 6. Idlewild Blue (Don't Chu Worry 'Bout Me) ¤ Andre 3000 (debut)
5. Deja Vu ¤ Beyonce feat. Jay-Z (3) 4. Steady, As She Goes ¤ the Raconteurs (4)*
Check the title. KMB put me up on it, and I'm watching it now, and now I'm sending it to you: = = = = =
The man who sees absolutes, where all other men see nuances and shades of meaning, is either a prophet, or a quack.
Donald H. Rumsfeld is not a prophet.
Mr. Rumsfeld’s remarkable speech to the American Legion yesterday demands the deep analysis—and the sober contemplation—of every American.
For it did not merely serve to impugn the morality or intelligence -- indeed, the loyalty -- of the majority of Americans who oppose the transient occupants of the highest offices in the land. Worse, still, it credits those same transient occupants -- our employees -- with a total omniscience; a total omniscience which neither common sense, nor this administration’s track record at home or abroad, suggests they deserve.
Dissent and disagreement with government is the life’s blood of human freedom; and not merely because it is the first roadblock against the kind of tyranny the men Mr. Rumsfeld likes to think of as “his” troops still fight, this very evening, in Iraq.
It is also essential. Because just every once in awhile it is right and the power to which it speaks, is wrong.
In a small irony, however, Mr. Rumsfeld’s speechwriter was adroit in invoking the memory of the appeasement of the Nazis. For in their time, there was another government faced with true peril—with a growing evil—powerful and remorseless.
That government, like Mr. Rumsfeld’s, had a monopoly on all the facts. It, too, had the “secret information.” It alone had the true picture of the threat. It too dismissed and insulted its critics in terms like Mr. Rumsfeld’s -- questioning their intellect and their morality.
That government was England’s, in the 1930’s.
It knew Hitler posed no true threat to Europe, let alone England.
It knew Germany was not re-arming, in violation of all treaties and accords.
It knew that the hard evidence it received, which contradicted its own policies, its own conclusions — its own omniscience -- needed to be dismissed.
The English government of Neville Chamberlain already knew the truth.
Most relevant of all — it “knew” that its staunchest critics needed to be marginalized and isolated. In fact, it portrayed the foremost of them as a blood-thirsty war-monger who was, if not truly senile, at best morally or intellectually confused.
That critic’s name was Winston Churchill.
Sadly, we have no Winston Churchills evident among us this evening. We have only Donald Rumsfelds, demonizing disagreement, the way Neville Chamberlain demonized Winston Churchill.
History — and 163 million pounds of Luftwaffe bombs over England — have taught us that all Mr. Chamberlain had was his certainty — and his own confusion. A confusion that suggested that the office can not only make the man, but that the office can also make the facts.
Thus did Mr. Rumsfeld make an apt historical analogy.
Excepting the fact that he has the battery plugged in backwards.
His government, absolute -- and exclusive -- in its knowledge, is not the modern version of the one which stood up to the Nazis.
It is the modern version of the government of Neville Chamberlain.
But back to today’s Omniscient ones.
That about which Mr. Rumsfeld is confused is simply this: This is a Democracy. Still. Sometimes just barely.
And, as such, all voices count -- not just his.
Had he or his president perhaps proven any of their prior claims of omniscience — about Osama Bin Laden’s plans five years ago, about Saddam Hussein’s weapons four years ago, about Hurricane Katrina’s impact one year ago — we all might be able to swallow hard, and accept their “omniscience” as a bearable, even useful recipe, of fact plus ego.
But, to date, this government has proved little besides its own arrogance, and its own hubris.
Mr. Rumsfeld is also personally confused, morally or intellectually, about his own standing in this matter. From Iraq to Katrina, to the entire “Fog of Fear” which continues to envelop this nation, he, Mr. Bush, Mr. Cheney, and their cronies have — inadvertently or intentionally — profited and benefited, both personally, and politically.
And yet he can stand up, in public, and question the morality and the intellect of those of us who dare ask just for the receipt for the Emporer’s New Clothes?
In what country was Mr. Rumsfeld raised? As a child, of whose heroism did he read? On what side of the battle for freedom did he dream one day to fight? With what country has he confused the United States of America?
The confusion we -- as its citizens— must now address, is stark and forbidding.
But variations of it have faced our forefathers, when men like Nixon and McCarthy and Curtis LeMay have darkened our skies and obscured our flag. Note -- with hope in your heart — that those earlier Americans always found their way to the light, and we can, too.
The confusion is about whether this Secretary of Defense, and this administration, are in fact now accomplishing what they claim the terrorists seek: The destruction of our freedoms, the very ones for which the same veterans Mr. Rumsfeld addressed yesterday in Salt Lake City, so valiantly fought.
And about Mr. Rumsfeld’s other main assertion, that this country faces a “new type of fascism.”
As he was correct to remind us how a government that knew everything could get everything wrong, so too was he right when he said that -- though probably not in the way he thought he meant it.
This country faces a new type of fascism - indeed.
Although I presumptuously use his sign-off each night, in feeble tribute, I have utterly no claim to the words of the exemplary journalist Edward R. Murrow.
But never in the trial of a thousand years of writing could I come close to matching how he phrased a warning to an earlier generation of us, at a time when other politicians thought they (and they alone) knew everything, and branded those who disagreed: “confused” or “immoral.”
Thus, forgive me, for reading Murrow, in full:
“We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty,” he said, in 1954. “We must remember always that accusation is not proof, and that conviction depends upon evidence and due process of law.
“We will not walk in fear, one of another. We will not be driven by fear into an age of unreason, if we dig deep in our history and our doctrine, and remember that we are not descended from fearful men, not from men who feared to write, to speak, to associate, and to defend causes that were for the moment unpopular.”
After the hitch I got roped into on its Opening Night, I finally caught the last show tonight to see the movie everybody's been talking about all summer.
Superman Returns? No.
Pirates 2: Eclectic Water Crew? Pshaw.
Lady In the Water? C'mon.
Let me just sum up the thing as it sums up itself.
Snakes. On. A. Mother. Fuckin'. Plane.
It's not Citizen Kane. Because, for one, Citizen Kane is fucking overrated. You heard me. And secondly, this isn't a comedy where the good stuff all got thrown in the trailer, and it's not a romantic comedy that makes you want to vomit, and it's not a drama trying to be Shakespeare, and it's not a remake of some movie that was way better 30 years ago that never should've been remade to begin with.
It is what it is. Snakes On A Plane.
And you know what the thing of it is?
It actually...doesn't suck. The stereotypes are there and gleefully hammed up, there are tons of pointless deaths, the snakes go crazy and bite everything not named Samuel L. Jackson, there's a bunch of hot babes standing around for no good reason in the background and eventually the main players survive and decide to celebrate their still living by hooking up. But on the way, you know what happens--especially if you know what you're getting into beforehand?
You have a metric shitload of fun. I mean, it scared my friend that I was with a few times, but you got to play MST3K for the rest, Samuel does his Samuel thing, shit blows up, and you too can horrify and amuse a movie theater by yelling out THE LINE the same time he does.
I've seen at least a dozen movies in the past 18 months I was "supposed to" like more than this goofy little thing, but this goofy little thing knows what it is, embraces it, bathes in it, and says, "Hey, c'mon, it's okay, you, too."
Expect the basic canons of horror movies to be in there and tweaked, even get a little high or drunk (I probably would be saying this is the BEST MOVIE EVAH~!! had I done either or both of those things), grab your friends (because seeing this alone is I'm convinced like going to see Rocky Horror alone), if you're squeamish check your barf bag, and just sit back and enjoy.
2) I was going to post about how I got screwed over in my Fafarazzi league, but I'm trying to dump Bono and Clay Aiken for more reliable point-scores Tara Reid and Pete Doherty.
That sentence is awesome.
ADDENDUM: Some previous posts have referenced a place called Confidential and a bartender named Jennifer who I deemed hottest in the county. I will now be turning off the All-American Rejects; it's no longer my dirty little secret.
And if you as a friend of the Empire of Rosser would like me to kick your monkey ass, find the private league Celebs On A Blog, use firecrotch as the password, and sit back and wait for the smacktalk to begin.
The Gibson Conspiracy Theorists look forward to 0w1ng j00. By The Time I Get To Arizona Public Enemy
So I got up this morning and decided I was going to go out into the world and continue job hunting. I've been sleeping in my bed a lot more recently with my brother picking up some Grandma slack and I swear my posture and demeanor is a lot better for it. I swore I was going to have a nice quiet Saturday at home but then I found out DJ Spider was coming to town late Saturday night at On Broadway and since I can get in on the sly...well, at least next weekend I can have that nice quiet (boring?) Saturday night at home.
I went to a local mall, and found everything lacking. So I left and went to a job fair for a major hotel reopening. I had one interview where I started off below average but was coming on at the end. Then I was asked if I could hang around for another interview. Gotta be a good sign. I was texting my friend Meagan about how she'd missed out last Saturday but could make it up this Saturday. And then she couldn't. So I mocked her some more. And then the second interview. This was with a different woman a rung or two up the ladder and I was able to make her chuckle and impress her with some tales of the wilder situations I had to handle at the Center. That one goes about 10 or 15, and then they ask if I can hang around for a third interview and now I'm thinking I am Flynn. So I wait and keep taunting her. She says she's got a weekend before Hawaii, you want to go out then? Yes, it's next Saturday. She hasn't been to my favorite club in town (Stingaree--check February for that history), and now as I close that deal it's Interview #3 with the Director of Public Operations.
SO Flynn.
Anyway, the opening is the ridculousness of how I got fired and I explain the whole thing. He laughs at them. Not chuckles, full-on laughs about me getting 24x pay on a suspension and all of that. He says something like maybe subconsciously I was prompting myself to move on, and how the right opportunities spring out bad times if you work right. He finds my week-long unemployment hilarious, because I'm sure he's heard some sob stories over the past couple days and this kid's opening up laughing about his firing and is barely unemployed. PLUS he laughed at "Nothing that wouldn't get me fired". Then, he explains the job, which is like my old job with a couple of tweaks and a better uniform. Oh, and paying $11.75 an hour (I overheard...whoopsie!). So I'm finishing a lot of his sentences because I see the vision, and I would only be dealing with 500ish people because it's so exclusive. Twenty minute third interview, and he's stressing about making sure my address & cell # is correct. You tell me I'm not in.
Then I hit the mall (different) to get myself up to one of them there buhrightos and I run into my friend Stella and she recognizes me from the English class we had togther. Thirty minutes later I have an escort to see DJ Spider at On Broadway. And what I'd get? A couple of T-Mobiles that'll be activated in a month, with no upfront charges. Yup. A couple. My Verizon deal ends on Christmas Eve, so that might be ugly for a little bit. I think it's cheaper for me to stay on instead of breaking off and paying that fee until the hotel money comes in. 1000 minutes, which'll come in handy once I'm unsingle again. They aren't cameraphones, I think, so I may sell one or both of them.
And even with those, I was lucky enough to stop at Borders and then get a couple of slices before Aaron happened to get off while I was in the neighborhood and gave me a ride home. The Earth will provide, I told him simply at the end of this story. The Earth will provide.
Total time spent: 6.5 hours.
I want the finer things in my life, so I hustle Nigga you get in my way when I'm tryna get mine and I'll buck you... Wait & Whisper Sexual Healing DJ Spider mixing Marvin Gaye & the Ying Yang Twins
She did a couple Stuff shoots, she go-go dances, loves puppies, and Disney movies. Well, 3 out of 4 still passes. And so while you wait for the Hot 40 to come out later this week--
a) I put the one that was supposed to be up two weeks ago on the MySpace blog. Doubt anyone cares, but you can find the "lost" KWBR if you care to.
b) Instead of a top 4 I nearly went 1a, 1b, 1c, 1d. All my summer anthems are clogging it at the top. Anyhow--
DROPS: "Gimme That (remix)", 14
15. Arctic Monkeys' "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor" (15) 14. the All-American Rejects' "Move Along" (12) 13. E-40 feat. T-Pain's "U & Dat" (debut) 12. Clipse feat. Pharrell's "Mr. Me Too" (13)* 11. Fort Minor feat. Holly Brook's "Where'd You Go" (9)
10. Christina Aguilera's "Ain't No Other Man" (10) 9. Pearl Jam's "Life Wasted" (8) 8. Ne-Yo's "Sexy Love" (11)* 7. Cassie's "Me & U" (6) 6. Pharrell feat. Kanye West's "Number 1" (5)
5. the Raconteurs' "Steady As She Goes" (7)* 4. Beyonce feat. Jay-Z's "Deja Vu" (4)*
It is better to burn out than to fade away. --Kurt Cobain
That is what I wrote on the eraseboard of my supervisors a short few minutes after I got fired.
Then I hopped across the street to the Marriott and filled out an application. I got a few out already, between them, a couple of local clubs, and Best Buy since the suspension.
I think my getting terminated instead of quitting is a blight, but once they find out the site-specfic reasons why and alongside my prior clean record of 3 years it should lessen the sting.
At least I'm going to be missed. My supervisor was solemn, very sad. One of my few friends around gave me a hug and seemed proud of me, and my favorite supervisor was down because she wasn't going to be watching football with me come Sundays--though if I do get a door job at a club downtown I have to let her in. (Aaron, I told you Karyn liked me. Told ya.)
Nothing from The Best Saturday Ever on its own got me fired, but cumulatively everything did. If I wanted the press I could be saying I got fired because of my love for Veronica Mars. (Love that was shown back, let the record show.) But I knew what could've happen--even if I thought it was going to pan out at the suspension level--and I did it anyway, and made my peace with it as it happened. I told Ivan my friends always looked out for me and blessed me. I just got to find some strangers to do it now.
And to keep up the positives, here's 10 things (at least) I won't miss about work:
The ugliest fucking uniforms this side of the 70's Padres. The best one merely made me look like a milkman. The ugly ones were damn ugly. And now I'll never wear them again.
Working weekends.
Missing football games.
Working New Year's fucking Eve, and Day.
Standing a shitload, which wasn't so bad until I started spending 30 hours a week crashing on Grandma's couch. Which reminds me--
--going from work directly after sleeping at Grandma's.
NO hot girls in our department. NONE. Except my ex, and I already got her, so...
Doctors asking me to write $2 receipts for coat checking their bag. DOCTORS!
Increasingly working someplace where I cared more about the people than the job; the realization that I'm going to miss the people I worked with and the checks.
Let it be known that the people who fired me for this infraction after 3 years of a perfect record in the past 2 weeks suspended me for 30 hours--paid me for 12--and made sure to give me my biggest check of the year on the way out the door.
After the paperwork was done, I was asked if I had anything to say. Could've gone a lot of ways. I settled for "Nothing that wouldn't get me fired."
That's how I spell maturity.
And as one of my Song of the Year candidates so eloquently put it--
Move Along the All-American Rejects (double irony, gotta love it)
And the lesser pics. But honestly, does that have Christmas card written all over it or what?! (That munching sound you hear is me eating Dupin's soul.)
