Memorial Day:

How is it that Billmon is so good at writing exactly what needs to be written?

How much of a geek are you? Take the test!

I don’t usually go for these kinds of tests, but this one is really good.

I scored 43.98422%, making me a Major Geek.

Aperger’s linkage:

The Asperger’s Express: Education and activism site, created by a family with an AS daughter. I got to it through this page, ‘Restraints and Aversives,’ which is concerned with restraining techniques and punishments used on developmentally disabled folks. The article paints a dark picture of what amounts to torture of the disabled.

The rest of the site is considerably more upbeat. I mean, how could it not be? It mainly talks about advocacy for autistic children by parents. This page, dealing with ‘inclusion’ in public schools is well worth reading, even simply as a critique of public schools in general.

The Express’ links page reminded me of some good stuff by the irrepressible Amanda Baggs, and the always interesting Temple Grandin.

Update: Watch the speech. (RealVideo link, an hour long)

Right-wing critics have the temerity to say that this speech is the result of Gore going crazy. Fuckers.

Once again I ask: Where was this Al Gore during the 2000 election?

George W. Bush promised us a foreign policy with humility. Instead, he has brought us humiliation in the eyes of the world.

He promised to “restore honor and integrity to the White House.” Instead, he has brought deep dishonor to our country and built a durable reputation as the most dishonest President since Richard Nixon.

Honor? He decided not to honor the Geneva Convention. Just as he would not honor the United Nations, international treaties, the opinions of our allies, the role of Congress and the courts, or what Jefferson described as “a decent respect for the opinion of mankind.” He did not honor the advice, experience and judgment of our military leaders in designing his invasion of Iraq. And now he will not honor our fallen dead by attending any funerals or even by permitting photos of their flag-draped coffins.

[..]

Hey, check it out… The University of New Hampshire says we could fulfill our transportation petroleum needs by dedicating a tenth of the Sonoran desert to growing algae for conversion to biodiesel. It’s a pretty good argument.

What I want to see on TV:

I want to be able to turn on the TV and have to choose between an interview with Noam Chomsky by Charlie Rose, about Chomsky’s new book-length criticism of Hayek, and a feature-length documentary about being a fourth grader in America, produced by a third grade class in the midwest.

I want to hear the traditional songs sung by the nomadic people of the Asian steppes, combined with photomontages shot with the camera phones they used to record the songs.

I want the Subliminal Hope Channel instead of Subliminal Despair Channel.

I want to see George W. Bush get a pie in the face, and I want to see him laugh it off and offer the thrower some dinner and a conversation. Cut to commercial.

I want to see the Distributed News Channel, where 15 minutes of airtime is given to whoever signs up for it, on a first-come first-served basis. Reporters generate all material themselves and upload their program to the station over the internet. Call it the network news ‘blog.

I want DNN: ‘The Daily Show’ News Network.

I want to be able to watch Martha Stewart while tuning out the subtext. I mean, I *like* to watch her prepare lemon squares, but I just never want to have to see her smug Ms. Perfect expression.

I don’t want to have to work so hard to tune in to joy, happiness, and thoughtful concern.

I’m really diggin’ the Orcinus ‘blog, written by David Neiwert, local terrorism/hate speech expert. The article I’ve linked to above talks about the ‘al Qaeda wants Kerry elected’ BS that’s spreading around.

We’re at a low, low point in our history when Repbulicans can claim that al Qaeda wants Kerry elected, and that they’ll attack us like they did in Spain, in order to change our election. I mean, on the one hand, al Qaeda is on the record as supporting Bush, because he’ll give them exactly the fight they want. But on the other hand, this lie gets amplified in the media echo chamber, to where it becomes not only the accepted truth, but an acceptable form of speech. That is, people will hear it and nod, not really understanding what their nod makes them complicit with.

Neiwert is also the author of this bit of analysis: ‘Rush, Newspeak, and Fascism: An exegesis‘ which begins with this question, one which everyone should try and answer for themselves: ‘Is fascism an obsolete term?’

Doug Feith.

This whole weird sleep schedule thing is really helping my dream life.

Tonight it was less Scorcese and more Fellini. All that was missing was a mentalist writing ‘Asa Nisi Masa‘ on a blackboard. Special guest appearance by MarcoPolo.

I’m with my friend Marco, and he’s performing in the Cirque Du Soliel. The venue is a huge hall, configured like a fancy shopping mall, with a giagantic swimming pool in the middle of it. The pool has figured in to the show thus far as a place for performers to swim around in synchronized water ballet.

Now Marco is doing a lip-sync to some kind of strange Cirque show tune parody. He’s dressed in a green skin-tight outfit, not unlike Jim Carrey as The Riddler.

Slowly, it dawns on me that the place I’ve been sitting on the floor has become part of the stage. Everyone around me is a performer in costume, idling before they start their dance or whatever.

I discreetly get up and move out of range, trying to maintain anonymity. The farther I go, the more distracted away from Marco’s performance I become. Eventually, the path I’m walking on, next to the pool, turns into a rock-climbing challenge, clinging to the moulded fiberglass shapes in the wall. I turn back around.

Now, instead of a mall, the venue is more like a big park with a pond in it. It’s still nighttime, however, and I can see the spotlights moving around on the performance around the bend. Occasionally, they silhouette against the the trees in front of me; I’ve managed to climb up the wooded hill next to the pond/pool, where there’s a sort of overlook. It’s paved in brick, has a cement handrail and benches.

Suddenly the spotlight is on me. Marco: “There he is!” Marco is now moving through the crowd, doing his lounge lizard-y Cirque-y act with the audience. They all look up at me on top of the hill. Suddenly, Marco is climbing up into the overview perch, and some Cirque clowns materialize around me.

I wave to the spotlight, to the audience. They respond with a delighted titter.

Marco mentions me by name: “Homer’s a hacker. He’s hacked a backdoor into enlightenment.” (This is something Marco’s actually said about me.) The audience, milling about around the pond/pool gives a half-hearted applause, like they’re not sure what that means.

The show continues and Marco and one of the clowns do some business up there, involving juggling or something. I slip away, trying again to remain anonymous.

I make it to the bottom of the hill before the spotlight finds me again. I keep walking, and Marco and his friend are following me down the hill, over the path, through the trees.

We get to the bottom and now my little entourage includes a TV cameraman and sound crew. Marco is doing some sleight-of-hand with some random folks, while telling in-jokes only I would get. The camera is focused on me, however. I have resigned myself to it.

One of the Cirque people is an intensely attractive woman, short in stature, who leads us all into an antique shop. She breezes us through, past some really lovely furniture and musical instruments to what looks like the back door. She opens it up, and the crowd pours in. An alarm goes off, so she rushes to a little microphone stand and talks to someone who shuts it off.

We’re in the room that has all the really nice stuff in it. A few display cases full of exquisite jewelry and collectibles.

We’re all looking at the stuff, and then the film crew starts setting up a film projector and screen. Everyone’s become involved in that, except for one woman who looks to be in her mid 40s. She’s what you might call a tough dame, with a little too much makeup and dyed hair. She comes to me and says, “I need for you to sign this legal document.”

“What?”

“A waiver. A disclaimer. I’m with MTV.”

“Oh, the cameras.”

“Yeah.”

“What if I don’t sign it?”

“Well, then all that great material will be wasted.”

“But I don’t want to look like an asshole.”

“Signing this document won’t make you look like an asshole.”

“But you guys can make me look like an asshole in post. If I sign it, that means you’ll be able to defend your position that I am an asshole in a court of law. So basically I have all the power here, since, as you say, so much would be wasted otherwise.”

She sits down in a convenient Louis XIV chaise, a bemused and exhausted look on her face. “You know, most people don’t get that.”

I notice the display case next to her. Inside, there’s a remote-controlled Space: 1999 Eagle space ship toy that actually hovers! I start humming the Space: 1999 theme song.

Finally, I say to her: “I’ll sign if you buy me that Space: 1999 toy.”

A big smile of delight crosses her face.

(Here’s a link to a geeky internet archive of Space:1999 theme songs. Like, a zillion different ones. You for sure want to listen to this version, which is said to be an Ennio Morricone cover, and includes the Nino Rota/Fellini-esque electric organ, for conceptual completeness. The rock covers are pretty good, too, particularly The Rocket Scientists.)

So yesterday I went to get lunch with a friend of mine, M. In the course of hanging out, she mentioned that she was sick of her hair. I joked, “Well, I can go home and get my clippers…” She said, “I’m into it.”

I gave her a day to decide against it, but her resolve was firm.

You can’t really tell what I’m doing in this pic, but trust me, it involves clippers.

After a while, M’s housemate wanted to try:

We managed to not take an ‘after’ picture, but she was very happy with only a half-inch of hair at any point on her scalp.

I had a blast, so if any Xangans out there are in the mood for a velour-like hairdo, let me know. My rates are cheap.