No, not sunblock. SPAMblock. Presented here for personal reference.
Some forum. Update: Oh crap does that forum ever suck. You click through and can read, and then the next time you click through, it asks you for money. Grr.
A basic rundown, which includes a nifty chart.
If you were wondering why Karl Rove left the White House, your answer is now plainly apparent: As White House advisor, he can’t go on chat shows and lie about himself without splashing shit on the President. When I heard he had bailed, I thought it was a tactical move rather than a strategic one, and I guess I was right. One upside of this is that he’s worried about it, or he wouldn’t have to lie about it the way he’s done. One downside is that so many think it’s completely natural for a high-ranking government official to leave his office so he can appear on chat shows and present his I’m-not-really-a-traitor case.
In other news: No trip to anywhere until I fix the brakes on my van. The rear drum brakes started making a grinding noise, and then something broke in there. This was as I was pulling out of the driveway. O yay, let’s hear it for the Vanagon! The real irony here is that I tried to replace the pads and refurb the hardware a while back, but could never get the axle nut loose. I have all the materials, and even an axle nut tool, but since I gave up last time I’ve been putting it off. So now it’s caught up with me.
I feel a hankerin’ to head up to San Juans island. Access by auto ferry. I’m thinking camp out in Lime Kiln State Park a couple nights, watch some whales…. Anyone in?
As I sit here, pondering whether I should go down to Myrtle Edwards Park and catch some of the HempFest vibe (and perhaps second-hand smoke), camera in hand, realize that I’m not all that sure what the schedule there will be.
So I go to the HempFest web site, where I find this:
Uhm, how can this be anything but bad?
The only area of sales growth: foreclosed houses, which now make up 8.3% of the Southern California home sale market, up from 7.7% in June and just 2.0% last July, DataQuick reports.
We had a bank run a couple days ago, the fed just helped out investors by flooding the market with money (you know, inflation), and… well…
It just kinda hangs there. Has anyone outlawed subprime mortgages yet?
Terrorism is, by definition, non-governmental. When governments engage in terrorism, it’s called ‘war.’
Thus, you cannot, by definition, say that a governmental agency is a terrorist group. For instance, if you say that Iran’s Revolutionary Guard is a terrorist organization, you might as well say that the United States Secret Service is a terrorist organization. The term ‘terrorist’ loses all meaning in such a comparison.
Which is, of course, exactly the point, and why it’s being done. Americans understand the rest of the world about as much as they understand themselves, which is to say not at all. We don’t know why someone would say that the Iranian Revolutionary Guard was a terrorist organization, but we consider why it might be true. We place too much trust in those re-defining the terms, because they’re supposed to have authority in the matter.
For instance, here’s the headline for Dale McFeatters’ editorial in the Boston Herald:
Pragmatism in calling Iran Guards terrorists
This is the equivalent of “Pragmatism in calling Ahmadinejad a poopy-head,” unless Bush can point to acts of war by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. And if he can do that, then we’re at war anyway.
Bush/Cheney wants to go to war with Iran, but wants to wait until the last possible moment of his Presidency to do so. He will saddle the next President with three wars.
And, as many have pointed out, Iraq is Czechoslovakia, and Iran will be Poland. If you don’t get what that means, then join the club: You’re American.
Tim Page wrote a personal essay called ‘Parallel Play‘ that appears in the August 20, 2007 issue of The New Yorker. He recounts aspects of his life affected by Asperger’s Syndrome.
It’s a pretty good read, from an articulate mind. Unfortunately the whole article isn’t on the New Yorker web site. One of my housemates has a subscription, though, so she showed it to me.
Also, Page talks about it on NPR.
…Cuz someone might die in a prison somewhere for putting it up. Seriously. This is like the guy in Tiennenman Square facing off the tanks.
Padilla, A One-Act First-Draft Play which will only be amusing to those who don’t value their civil rights. And who are familiar with the case. Aren’t we clever?
Dramatis Personae:
George Cheney, a two-headed man (the GEORGE head is obviously a puppet, manipulated by a very poor ventriloquist)
Jose Padilla, a US citizen
The Jury, a single-headed man with many voices in his head
The Judge
Our play takes place in a room, barely large enough for two people to be theatrical within, say 12×12. The room has scrims for all walls, so that with a lighting change, it can switch from being An Oval Office to being A Rectangular Prison Cell Where Torture Is Performed. Both spaces are confining, though An Oval Office has furniture such as a desk and chairs arranged just outside the scrims.
All dialogue should be sung in a mock-operatic voice, unless specified otherwise.
Lights are dark. Narrow spotlight on George Cheney. During this speech, the lights slowly rise to reveal An Oval Office
CHENEY: (to audience) I am here
GEORGE: we are here
CHENEY: yes, we are here to tell the tale of the time we almost failed, the tale of great girth and horror.
GEORGE: great horror
CHENEY: great horror befell our nation, the terrorists had hit us, the twin towers were still a heap of rubble
GEORGE: heap. of rubble. you may have heard about it.
CHENEY: the stage had been set (gestures to the scenery), the world was ready for an ass-kicking, and the American people were ready for some mass tricking…
GEORGE: tricky dicking
CHENEY: the agenda had been set and the energy task force had met and…
GEORGE: (normal voice) what he’s sayin’, ya see, is that shock and awe was on the way, but we hadn’t quite figured out how to sell it to all you suckers yet, and at the time it seemed like what we needed most was to catch a terrorist, a real-life terrorist who was American most of all, so that we could get all of you to shit your little pants, cuz that’s what we do.
CHENEY gives GEORGE a threatening glance
GEORGE: oh, yeah. uh, don’t (stressing) ‘misunderestimate’ what we were up to.
SFX: Laugh track
CHENEY: (normal voice) well, sure, we needed a name, a face. We needed a story to tell about that face, the face of terrorism. Terrorism that wasn’t in the form of Osama Bin Laden. We needed some schlub that we could make up a bunch of bullshit stories about.
GEORGE: (singing) we needed to catch the evil-doers red-handed!
CHENEY: just some guy to catch your eye and keep you from asking why…
PADILLA enters, joins GEORGE CHENEY in the office
PADILLA: (speaking) hey, nice office.
CHENEY: excuse me, sir… have you been overseas recently?
PADILLA: is that any of your business?
GEORGE: well, as it turns out…..
lighting change transforms An Oval Office into A Rectangular Prison Cell Where Torture Is Performed
GEORGE: yes.
PADILLA: you can’t do this, I’m an American citizen!
CHENEY: (to GEORGE) well, there is that, isn’t there?
CHENEY and GEORGE look at each other in consternation and say “Hmmmmmm” They seem oblivious to PADILLA who is now behind them in his cell.
GEORGE: (spoken) I’ve got it.
CHENEY: (spoken) really?
GEORGE: (spoken) ooooooh, yes indeedy.
A pause, as if we were hearing a musical cue. The following dialogue sung over an improvised tune. Think ‘Doe, A Deer’ moving on to ‘Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better.’
GEORGE: (singing) I. Declare.
CHENEY: (singing) You? Declare?
GEORGE: I declare you (points to PADILLA)
PADILLA: (points to self) (singing) You? Declare me? Declare what?
CHENEY: (smiling approval, finally figuring out what GEORGE is up to) He declares you, yes he declares you.
GEORGE: I. declare you to be.
PADILLA: Do you charge me to be?
GEORGE: I declare you to be.
PADILLA: Could you charge me to be?
GEORGE: I declare you to be. You’re the enemy of me. You’re combative and rude and I declare that you’re screwed.
PADILLA: How can you say such things about me? How can you…
CHENEY places a gag on PADILLA
GEORGE: we thought about dirty bombs… we thought about dirty bombs, oh yeah… (to audience) you’ll learn about dirty bombs from the newspapers and especially cable news.
CHENEY: cable news!
GEORGE: cable NEWS!!
THE JUDGE enters. The lights dim and a spotlight finds JUDGE, who seems about to address the audience.
While JUDGE enters, GEORGE CHENEY, back to audience, is awkwardly consulting a map of Afghanistan, which he has unfolded like a road map you’d get at a gas station.
All characters stand still and silent for an absurdly long time.
JUDGE turns around to face GEORGE CHENEY, who doesn’t seem eager to talk to JUDGE. GEORGE CHENEY flips over the map to reveal Iraq and is studying it.
Again, all characters stand still and silent, for a very long time. One is tempted to think that the play is over or that there’s a technical problem.
JUDGE turns to face PADILLA, who is still gagged. PADILLA begins shouting and screaming underneath the gag. JUDGE struggles to hear. This goes on for a very long time.
GEORGE CHENEY realizes that JUDGE is trying to hear PADILLA, so he takes PADILLA by the hand and moves him to the other side of the Rectangular Prison Cell Where Torture Is Performed.
JUDGE shrugs and exits stage.
GEORGE: That was close.
CHENEY: To what? (laughs)
JURY enters.
JURY joins PADILLA in the Cell. PADILLA, still gagged, and now bound in a ‘stress position’ is seated on the floor, and JURY sits next to him.
As JURY sings, his voice changes to reflect a number of different voices. Each sentence is a different voice, with a different range, and should be sung in a different style. There are far more than twelve voice in JURY’s head.
JURY: (to audience) I, the jury. I, the jury. Here on stage, I jurify, jaundiced judicial jape-hood. Or something. Or something. or something. Jury, o jury, how do you plead? Well, guilty as charged. Guilty? I haven’t been charged with anything. O please, you know. Do I? You do. You’re guilty. Why even ask for a plea without guilt? Guilt over what?
CHENEY: perfect.
GEORGE: perfect.
CHENEY: perfection.
JURY: I rend my garments, I wring my hands, I do not know the guilt of this terrorist on the stand.
GEORGE: have you forgotten? have you forgotten the bombs that are dirty?
CHENEY: have you forgotten nine-eleven, dear jury?
JURY: I do not know, for how can I see all that you see? How can we, the plurality, see? Yes, how can we, the plurality see, all intel and evidence and junk like that… see? Surely something top secret, surely something unknown. Surely something you know that we dare not know. Dare not know for the sake of security.
GEORGE: We don’t torture.
PADILLA (still gagged) and JURY: And that’s another thing….
Darkness and silence and stillness fall again, and again the spotlight follows JUDGE as he re-enters the stage. With great care and deliberation, JUDGE places a gag on JURY and leaves the stage.
CHENEY: (to audience) And with that satisfactory ending, we bid you adieu.
GEORGE: we’re off to expand our empire.
CHENEY: seriously?
GEORGE: seriously. (they laugh)
lights dim, spotlight on GEORGE CHENEY, which irises closed slowly
CHENEY: but before we go we have something to say
GEORGE: because we’re the only ones allowed to have something to say
CHENEY: and your proper role is to sit there and listen
GEORGE: cuz, well, uh, you know… we might put you in prison
CHENEY: and that’s really all we had to say to you now
GEORGE: you thought we’d say something wise or at least something funny
CHENEY: but we’re not about wisdom, and we don’t care about money
GEORGE: it’s really nothing personal. all we want is your power.
CHENEY: yes, truly. no biggie. hand over your power.
GEORGE: your power is all we want.
CHENEY: power. simple little word, that.
GEORGE: and now we’ll scat.
GEORGE CHENEY does a shuffling dance offstage in remaining spotlight.
END
First crossing postcard from who knows when. It’s the old bridge, without the new one.
More here.
