Article 3 of the Geneva Convention is not vague or ambiguous.

It’s a fact that the CIA operates secret torture prisons. It’s a fact that the military and the CIA use torture on detainees. These are not in dispute.

The question is now: Are these things illegal?

And the answer is yes. They are, according to the Geneva Convention. And they are illegal with good reason which anyone with a lick of sense understands.

And if you don’t get it yet: If Article 3 is vague, then why does the CIA engage in expensive, annoying, legally-and-politically-risky ‘renditions,’ in order to bypass it?

What’s about to happen is that the United States Congress is going to pass the very first law *ever* to contradict the Geneva Conventions.

As Marty Lederman writes:

It’s important to be clear about one thing: The question is not simply whether, in the abstract, it would be a good or acceptable idea for the United States to use such techniques in certain extreme circumstances on certain detainees. [..] Instead, the question must be placed in its historical and international context — namely, whether Congress should grant the Executive branch a fairly unbounded discretion to use such techniques where such conduct would place the United States in breach of the Geneva Conventions. And that, of course, changes the calculus considerably. Does Congress really want to make the United States the first nation on earth to specifically provide domestic legal sanction for what would properly and universally be seen as a transparent breach of the minimum, baseline standards for civilized treatment of prisoners established by Common Article 3 — thereby dealing a grevious blow to the prospect of international adherence to the Geneva Conventions in the future?

The question in a nutshell: Do your representatives in Congress believe the Geneva Convention matters, at all?

Call ‘em up and find out.

Click:

Princeton sez: Diebold easily hackable.

Democracy sez: Crap.

In which HomerTheBrave peruses Apple’s movie trailer site and makes a list.

Update: ‘Children of Men’ No, really: ‘Children of Men’

‘The Fountain’

‘Babel’

‘Borat’

‘Jesus Camp’

‘Zen Noir’

‘Running With Scissors’

‘The Science of Sleep’

‘The US vs John Lennon’

‘Apocalypto’ (Out of total morbid curiosity)

There’s no trailer for it, but ‘Idiotocracy’ is on the list, too. It’s a satire that cut a little too close to the bone, so it’s not in wide release, and will be on DVD before you know it.

And, also: Iraq For Sale.

IDEA conference 2006.

I wish I had a product to flog or a book to sell, to make it worth registering ($300 at best).

Today is the day to call for the resignation of Michael Wynn.

Nonlethal weapons such as high-power microwave devices should be used on American citizens in crowd-control situations before being used on the battlefield, the Air Force secretary said Tuesday.

[..]

“If we’re not willing to use it here against our fellow citizens, then we should not be willing to use it in a wartime situation,” said Wynne. “(Because) if I hit somebody with a nonlethal weapon and they claim that it injured them in a way that was not intended, I think that I would be vilified in the world press.”

Took the bus to Lake City. I wandered up to Fred Meyer’s (think Target) to get some poofy packing envelopes. They didn’t have the discount pack, so I got two, in order to ship the two books I sold.

Searched for the Sharpies. I realized I had left my Sharpie at home, so I bought two more. Consumerism. W00t.

Paid and went to the post office, where it was somewhere approximately close to three hundred thousand degrees kelvin inside. That place is like an oven. A three hundred thousand degree kelvin oven. Put the books in the envelopes, addressed them nicely, stood in line.

The woman in front of me in line was very helpful. While I was filling out the delivery confirmation forms, she told me all about AAAAAALLLLLL the ways I could save money by shipping flat rate or whatever. I explained I was sending media mail. “Oh, that’s the cheapest, but if you’re sending to, like, Europe or something, then flat rate is the best…” On and on for the twenty minutes we waited for the next available counterperson. She told me she used to work at a post office, which is how she knew all these things. She would watch the postal workers with a kind of zoned-out, smiling, nostalgia. She’d see them put a package on the scale, and smile knowingly to herself. She’d see some guy haul away a tub full of letters and, almost outwardly say to herself, “I remember when…”

This made me wonder about the circumstances of her leaving the postal system, but I decided not to ask.

I mailed the books. Does anyone really need a Microsoft OLE technical manual now-a-days?

For some reason I was hungry for Jack In The Box. So I went there.

Inside, I ordered and waited. They would, they said, call out my name. Jack In The Box is apparently trying to elevate their image; they have this whole corporate-whore look going on. The CEO Jack character is now *your* CEO for the Jack In The Box lifestyle. Or something.

And they have JackTV. A giant flat-screen TV hangs from one wall. It shows ads for Jack In The Box. They’re disguised as TV shows, but they all feature the ball-headed Jack.

JackTV was silent.

I waited and waited. Waited a while. Another while. And then JackTV started making noise. It was music to go along with the ads. And then there was dialogue. Someone was talking about Jack In The Box, over a big TV, inside the Jack In The Box.

Went up to the counter, and the guy looked at me and immediately realized he had forgotten that I existed. He gave me my sandwich.

I say to the guy: “Could you turn down the ads, please? I’d rather not listen to ads while I eat.” The guy looks at the cash register, which is now apparently the Arbiter Of All Things. He says, “Yeah, that won’t last much longer. Only seven-fifty-five.” “Well, could you please do me a favor and turn it off so I can eat in peace? I’d really appreciate it.” I can only assume that by seven-fifty-five he means that there will be almost eight more minutes of sound coming out of JackTV.

The manager is here by now, and the cashier guy points to him. “He can take care of you.” So I ask the manager, “Can you please turn off the ads so I can eat in peace?” He looks at me dubiously. He knows nothing good will come of this. He says, straight to my face, “Yes.” I thank him and head back.

The sound continues. Some guy’s saying that Jack In The Box is a great place to eat. I take a couple bites of the sandwich. The manager is now walking out of the restaurant with a pack of cigarettes and a paperback novel, and the ads continue to tumble down into my food like rat droppings. Call the health department!

Now, I have options. It’s not as though I have to eat at Jack In The Box. So I don’t. I pack up my stuff and take the tray with the semi-eaten sandwich up to the counter. The manager and the other guy are nowhere to be seen. They’re vanished. The drive-thru lady notices me and asks me how she can help. “Well, I was talking to someone and they said they’d turn down the JackTV, but it was a lie.” I let my accusation hang for a second. And during that second, the manager and the other guy and the prep guys all magically appear. As if they had been cloaked before by some magical force but now they’ve tossed aside their Magick Elvish Tunic Of Invisibiliy and shown themselves. ‘Lie.’ It’s a powerful word.

But before the manager can say anything, the drive-thru lady lets it slip: “Oh, no. We can’t turn that off.”

Ah.

So.

We’re all prisoners here, together.

The manager: “Can I help you?”

“Well, yes, like I asked before, if you could turn off the ads so I could eat in peace, but you didn’t, even though you said you would.”

But now he says, “Maybe some other customer wants to hear JackTV. We offer it as a public good.”

I’m rather astonished. Ads for a restaurant *in* a restaurant are now rebranded as being for the public good.

Me: “Really?”

Him: “Yes, really.”

Me: “Riiiiiiiight. I want my money back.” I move the tray over to where he is.

Then something totally unexpected happens. The prep guy comes up and asks what’s wrong with the sandwich. “The sound,” I say. “I’d like to eat it without listening to ads.” At this, the prep guy got really offended. Motioning to the tray with the half-eaten sandwich, he says, “You take this and throw it in the trash over there. We can’t use it here.” He gives me a glare. I’m trying to figure out why he’d need me to throw it away for him. What’s his irrational game? Is he offended that I didn’t like a sandwich he had prepped? I had no idea Jack In The Box prep guys were that dedicated to their work. Maybe he didn’t get that the sandwich itself wasn’t the problem at all. He glared at me more than a few times, and I got the sense that if he’d been able to take a break, he’d have come out and beat me up.

I eventually got the money back and headed out.

So. It’s a real shame that those Bruschetta Chicken sandwiches aren’t so bad, because I’ll never eat another one.

Here’s a web site that asks: To which US states have you been?

And my answer:

create your own visited states map
or check out these Google Hacks.

This includes states I’ve been through, with no destination, either by car or train, but of course not states I’ve flown over. Then again, I’ve flown over most of the states I’ve been to or through.

Maybe it’s time to get to the east coast and Great Lakes. Alaska I’m going to cover by foot. (On the ferry highways.) And I’ve always assumed that the only way people actually make it to Hawaii is as a prize on a game show.

If I start now, I could cover all 50 before I’m 40.

If I were a good little hacker, I’d add a field to this where you could put how frequently you go there. So for instance, Texas and Washington would be really bright red while North Dakota would be almost white.

Sometimes I get stuck. Overwhelmed by options.

It’s hard to talk about. Anything I say sounds, to someone who’s normal, as if I’m just lazy or unfocused or whatever. But it’s not. This is my disability.

I’m not confused. I’m crystal clear about everything. It’s just the action that’s difficult.

The thing that happens is that somehow my mind finds one thing to be concerned about. Like, right now, I’m thinking about how my van needs a new catalytic converter. And how until I get it, I really shouldn’t drive the van much, and since I can’t drive the van much, I have to work out how I’ll deliver the book order that someone made. And because the post office is closed, I can’t deliver the book. And because there’s a single problem in the queue that’s going to have to wait until tomorrow, the rest goes to shit. I’ll obsess about the book. I can’t package it yet, though, because then I’ll ‘lose’ it, and it’ll register as having been done, and I’ll have to continually remind myself that it’s only part-way done.

So there are a million things I need to do in the next week, and I think I can do most of them, except I’m stuck. I usually get unstuck by getting pissed off at myself, and that’s no fun. Or I get unstuck by letting deadlines float right by as if they never were. And that’s not responsible.

Van catalytic converter, book to post office, walk to post office on top of hill instead of drive. Not much of a problem to solve. And I’ll do it tomorrow, but for now, I’m here at the computer trying to work up some self-loathing so I can take care of things while treading water, waiting for the post office to open. I might even have a hard time getting to sleep tonight.

Kinda sucks.

A while back, I mentioned the City of Cairns, and was aloof about its location in order to drum up some interest from fellow travelers.

James warned that perhaps if its location were revealed, someone might knock it down. And you know what? Someone did. Which one of you was it? Come on… Out with it!

No one wants to admit it? Well, I can’t blame you.

So I’ll just build another one.

Just beyond: