McChrystal's Balls

For those of you living in a cabin in the Montana woods for the last few weeks, Rolling Stone magazine did an interview with General Stanley McChrystal, where he (and many of his aides) were making unflattering statements about the president, the vice president, and pretty much every politician involved with Afghanistan from the top down.

So, Obama called him back to Washington, perhaps to sit down with him, along with General Clown, Envoy Animal, and Vice President Bite-me, to discuss McChrystal's future career plans.

And now General Petraeus is in charge, and like so many politicians and military men before him, McChrystal is being given a chance "to spend more time with his family."

Now, the unhinged Right has gone off the rails so fast that at this point, if Obama were to single-handedly parachute into the Pakistani mountains, capture bin Laden, and use his bleeding corpse to plug the pipe that's pumping oil into the Gulf, they'd complain that he's a socialist for interfering with British Petroleum's efforts to fix their equipment.

Hell, even if Afghanistan suddenly becomes heaven on earth, with free democratic elections that put James Dobson in charge, with the Pope as his Vice Prophet, Liz Cheney would still talk about how "Obama castrated an entire country! He's trying to feminize the planet!"

But that's OK. If Obama had left McC in charge, those same people would complain about how weak Obama was appearing, and how he was making America a laughingstock on the international stage.

It doesn't matter what Obama does on any subject — the far right will spin it so hard that it will drill down into the ground. But really, on the fire/don't fire spectrum, there was a third option that nobody seems willing to talk about.

The Right likes to complain the Obama is "arrogant" (i.e., he isn't Steppin' Fetchit), and he's "thin-skinned." (What? He didn't smile and nod when you called him "Hitler" for the sixtieth time?)

But if Obama was really "thin-skinned," he would have taken that third option. And General McChrystal wouldn't have been allowed to retire. He would have been courtmartialed.

Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ)

ARTICLE 88. CONTEMPT TOWARD OFFICIALS
Any commissioned officer who uses contemptuous words against the President, the Vice President, Congress, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of a military department, the Secretary of Transportation, or the Governor or legislature of any State, Territory, Commonwealth, or possession in which he is on duty or present shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.

ART. 133. CONDUCT UNBECOMING AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN
Any commissioned officer, cadet, or midshipman who is convicted of conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.

ART. 134. GENERAL ARTICLE
Though not specifically mentioned in this chapter, all disorders and neglects to the prejudice of good order and discipline in the armed forces, all conduct of a nature to bring discredit upon the armed forces...

It isn't hard to figure out. The military goes everywhere, and laws change. And sometimes, the military goes outside of any American jurisdiction.

So, instead of having to pay attention to the weird local laws, like the fact that it's still illegal in Kansas to ride a Grévy's Zebra, Tibetan ox, or any similar animal down a main thoroughfare (unless there's a parade in progress), or in Thailand, where you can be arrested for not wearing underwear, we have federal laws, which take precedence... most of the time. Unless they don't...

OK, mostly, the local government will give up their right to prosecute, since the military member is going to face military justice. It costs them less that way.

(There's actually a lengthy and somewhat boring discussion of jurisdiction that can be inserted here, but why bother?)

So the UCMJ tends to trump local law. Which means that General McChrystal was guilty of the military equivalent of jaywalking. Really, these were all minor offenses - no jail time would have been involved.

At worst, McChrystal would have lost a star. But because of the "high 3" rule (your retirement pay is based on the highest rank you held for three years), he would have still retired at the 3-star pay rate that he's getting now. (Of course, things might have gone worse for the various lower-ranking officers who were with him, and just as guilty.)

Nothing would have changed. The whole mess would have just lasted longer.

But that's OK. Our friends on the Right will figure some ignorant way to spin this.

So alone

So, I was working on a post (and then, realizing that I was kicking a paraplegic, I moved on to a second one), and then things got all caught up in my son, home in one piece from Afghanistan, who proposed to his girlfriend (who's also in one piece, if it matters), and relatives from North Carolina. So instead, here's an essay on the nature of existence from P.Z. Myers at Pharyngula.

Scientists and atheists do something that many believers find repellent: we shatter their perception of their relationship to the universe. And understandably, they don't like that.

Most religious people in the West have a very specific model of the way the world works that is based on our cultural history as the progeny of nomadic herdsman, and that still resonates strongly with all of us — the father-child relationship, the patriarchy. We have a wise leader who guides us all, punishes us when we stray, offers largesse to those in his favor, and unites the whole tribe in common cause. Those bronze age sheepherders lived this way, and it made sense. It was a strategy for survival that worked well, and that shaped the way we see the world even now. Ask any Christian on any Sunday morning about flocks and sheep and shepherds, and they will understand the metaphor even if it is highly unlikely that any of them have been in contact with any animal other than a household pet.

It's also a powerful idea because it posits a set of very personal relationships. The father is remote because of his great responsibilities, but at the same time, we all want that pat on the shoulder, the encouraging word, the opportunity to serve and win distinction in Father's eyes by virtue of our dutifulness. It's a familial relationship, tightly-knit and long-established, where we are respectful dependents and the leader of the tribe relies on our service.

Beyond just the family and tribe, though, this vision has been extended to the entire universe. There is a great Patriarch in the Sky, who is our leader and guide, responsible for making the grand strategic decisions about where our tribe will go, and is also watchfully making sure the unity of the tribe is not disrupted by wayward ideas from nonconformists. He has a central concern that we all share, that our people should thrive, and even if he is stern at times, it is because he cares so much that we succeed. And of course, he knows each one of us personally, just as the leader of tribe or clan in our pastoral days would have, and he can give us an approving stroke or a damning angry smiting, depending on whether we help or hinder the work of getting the flocks to the summer pasturage.

Read your bible. It's saturated with this primitive herdsman mentality: God the Father, sheep and goats, lost lambs and the Lamb of God, flocks and herds. It's anthropologically fascinating, and it's also not necessarily an evil metaphor (unless, of course, you're a woman — the patriarchy is also deeply misogynistic). One of it's most appealing aspects is that it makes the relationship with the universe a close and personal one, of a very simple kind of relatedness, that of father and child. It's one metaphorical generation, direct and immediate, and it colors everything about how we view our place in the world: dominant and submissive, leader and follower, wisdom and naiveté, master and servant, command and obedience. It also tangles up our relationship with the world in those paternal virtues of love and concern and discipline, and often with those less savory issues of the complicated relationships many people have with their fathers, because, face it, sometimes men are jerks. Which also fits with the portrait of the omnipotent god painted by the Bible.

I can sympathize. I loved and respected my father, and any attempt by an outsider to defame or complicate or diminish that relationship would trigger a resentful response from me. Christians and Muslims and Jews have been told from their earliest years that God is their father, with all the attendant associations of that argument, and what are we atheists doing? Telling them that no, he is not, and not only that, you don't even have a heavenly father at all, the imaginary guy you are worshipping is actually a hateful monster and an example of a bad and tyrannical father, and you aren't even a very special child — you're a mediocre product of a wasteful and entirely impersonal process.

It makes that whole business of breaking the news about Santa Claus look like small potatoes. Reality is harsh, man.

But it is reality. We've done the paternity tests, we've traced back the genealogy, we're doing all kinds of in-depth testing of the human species. We are apes and the descendants of apes, who were the descendants of rat-like primates, who were children of reptiles, who were the spawn of amphibians, who were the terrestrial progeny of fish, who came from worms, who were assembled from single-celled microorganisms, who were the products of chemistry. Your daddy was a film of chemical slime on a Hadean rock, and he didn't care about you — he was only obeying the laws of thermodynamics.

You aren't you because of some grand design, but because of chance, contingency, and selection. Your genome is a mess of detritus with a tiny fraction of well-honed functionality, and your body is cobbled together from the framework of a tetrapod — you bear the scars of chance throughout, and you are mostly unaware of them because selection, that is the death of millions, has patched them over…but they're there to the eye that will look. You aren't even the best at much of anything: you're weaker, slower, more fragile, clumsier than the other species we compete with, and although you've got a bigger brain, the majority of Americans, at least, consider it a virtue to keep it ignorant and unused — and universally, we have difficulty thinking in the long term while we are very good at exploiting our environment in the short term, which is leading to some interesting and possibly fatal consequences.

The legacy of good husbandry, we are not. Our cosmic father did not and does not exist, which is a good thing, because if he did, he's the kind of lazy, destructive deadbeat we'd be ashamed of.

This is our new heresy. We have killed our heavenly father, demolished that cozy personal (but imaginary!) relationship with a great and caring being. We are alone, orphans in an indifferent universe. We atheists must be a cold and broken people, without hope, without love.

But of course, we're not, and I think this change in our vision of our relationship to the universe is humankind's great good hope. Primitive monotheistic religions have shackled us to a limited metaphor and model, the father and child, and erected an entire invisible heavenly mouthpiece to help us maintain that comfortable delusion — but it's like relying on the Great and Powerful Oz to help us out of our problems, when Oz is only a sham and a show. We have to escape out of this narrow perspective.

Reality doesn't just destroy the patriarchal model, it gives us new and better ways to visualize our relationship with the universe. Father and child is inadequate; we have to think in terms of populations and species interacting (not dominating), of being part of an environment. There is more to life than the father and child bond. I am the outcome of a trillion coalescing possibilities, with a vast population of brothers and sisters acting out our brief lives on a background of gas and stone, water and light, grasses and fishes, and my responsibilities are far greater than obedience to a father figure. Breaking that illusion of a personal tie to one grand elder lord can briefly leave us feeling abandoned and alone and lost, and I can understand how some people find severing that imaginary relationship a horrible prospect.

But here's the wonderful revelation. If you're a well-adjusted person, once you've discarded the unhealthy fictitious relationship with a phantasm, you can look around and notice all those other people who are likewise alone, and you'll realize that we're all alone together. And that means you aren't alone at all — you're among friends. That's the next step in human progress, is getting away from the notion of minions living under a trail boss, and onwards to working as a cooperative community, with no gods and no masters, only autonomous agents free to think and act.

On Father's Day, hypocrites are all in the family

by Colbert I. King (Washington Post)

Family, marriage and the contribution of fathers come together as topics for reflection on Father's Day. So I'd like to know why Barack Obama, a husband and a father in a family structure that encompasses bonds deemed essential to our society, is constantly and savagely attacked by conservative leaders whose personal circumstances undermine the family values they espouse?

Consider Obama: Raised by a single mother in a middle-class family where hard work and education were watchwords, Obama graduated from two of the top schools in the country, Columbia University and Harvard Law School. His legal scholarship was recognized when he became the first African American president of the Harvard Law Review. He married and, equally important, has stayed married to Michelle Robinson, a Princeton graduate and Harvard Law alumna. He lives with his wife, two children and his mother-in-law. Obama: constitutional law professor, civil rights lawyer, state legislator, U.S. senator, 44th U.S. president, family man.

Now let's turn to Obama's foremost critics: Rush Hudson Limbaugh III, Newton Leroy Gingrich and Sarah Palin.

Limbaugh and Gingrich have said too many negative things about Obama to count. "I want him to fail" (Limbaugh) and "secular socialist" (Gingrich) are just two of their attacks. Yet two of the nation's loudest proponents of family-values issues are serial husbands. Between them, the two men have had seven wives.

Limbaugh, who dropped out of college after one year, married his first wife, a sales secretary, in September 1977. She filed for divorce three years later; it was granted in July 1980. Limbaugh next married an usherette in 1983; they divorced in 1990. In May 1994, he married an aerobics instructor he met online. They separated in June 2004 and divorced that December.

Two weeks ago, Limbaugh married a Florida party planner. He's still wedded to her as far as I can tell.

Gingrich is one nuptial behind Limbaugh. But he started earlier. In 1962, at age 19, Gingrich married his 26-year-old former high school geometry teacher. Gingrich left her in the spring of 1980. He did return to see her at the hospital where she was getting treatment for cancer. He was there to discuss divorce terms. Formally divorced in 1981, Gingrich remarried six months later.

That marriage lasted until 2000. By his own admission, Gingrich started an affair with a woman 23 years his junior during his second marriage. It was around the time he was taking Bill Clinton to task over Monica Lewinsky.

Gingrich's second marriage ended in 2000, and he married his girlfriend the same year. The current Mrs. Gingrich is still with him, as far as I can tell.

Gingrich and Limbaugh, national icons in the conservative movement -- and mockers of this country's most traditional and honored symbol of commitment: holy matrimony.

But what would a Father's Day discussion of the nuclear family and a moral society be without bringing into the picture Mrs. Family Values herself, Sarah Palin?

The same Palin who last week said of President Obama, "It sounds like the inner circle that he has are some Chicago thugs." Well, Palin knows lawbreaking, too.

Her sister-in-law, Diana Palin, half sister of the former governor's husband, got a 15-month sentence this year. Burglarizing the same Alaska house three times for money to satisfy a drug habit is the kind of thing that can get you arrested. Thuggery? How about Sherry Johnston, the mother of Levi Johnston, the high school dropout who fathered Palin's grandson? She was arrested and charged with selling drugs; after pleading guilty to one count with intent to deliver the drug OxyContin she was sentenced to three years.

Because of her medical condition, the woman who was once Bristol Palin's future mother-in-law was released from prison to home confinement, where she wears an ankle-monitoring device.

And the whereabouts of 19-year-old Levi on this Father's Day weekend? His bonds with the Palins were so tight, he said on TV, that Sarah and her husband, Todd, allowed Levi to live in their house with Bristol while they dated. Conservative family values?

Levi can be found on the cover of Playgirl magazine, his nude body blocked from full exposure by his strategically placed arm.

And to think, as we prepare to celebrate this day of men and family, Limbaugh, Gingrich and Palin have the unmitigated gall to look down their noses at our president.
_____________

For Father's Day, President Obama was asked by Parade Magazine to write an article on parenting, summarized here.

Webber thou goest...

I just saw "Cats" for the first time the other night, and I have to admit, it's not as horrendous as I've always feared. The fact that I was drinking helped, admittedly, but the show doesn't actually make you want to slash your wrists. And in context, the old cat singing "Memory" actually redeems that song from the Muzak Hell where people like Barbara Streisand, Barry Manilow and Celine Dion have sent it.

On the other hand, you know what gets really irritating? People repeating nonsense words over and over (and over and over and over). For example, jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle jellicle.

Oh, and by the way. Jellicle.

"Cats" opened up on the West End in 1981, and was Lloyd Webber's fourth successful staged musical (preceeded by Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Jesus Christ Superstar and Evita - there was also Jeeves, based on the Jeeves and Wooster novels by P.G. Wodehouse, but it closed after only three weeks).

Say what you want about Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber (Baron Lloyd-Webber of Sydmonton, in Hampshire), but he's composed 13 musicals, two film scores, a song cycle, a set of variations, and a Latin Requiem Mass. He has also earned six Tony Awards, seven Olivier Awards, three Grammies, an Academy Award, one Golden Globe and the Kennedy Center Honors (and has been nominated for each more times than I can count).

He's also a known plagiarist, accused by people from Roger Waters of Pink Floyd to Christian singer-songwriter Ray Repp. In fact, Lloyd Webber settled out of court with the estate of Giacomo Puccini (Tosca, La Boheme, Madame Butterfly) for an undisclosed amount.

Know why? Remember "Music of the Night," the big number from Phantom of the Opera? This is a brief excerpt from a little-known Puccini opera called Girl of the Golden West. Pay close attention about 44 seconds into it.



Anyway, Lloyd Webber has been married three times; he met his second wife, Sarah Brightman, while still married to his first wife, Sarah Hugill (so he's got a thing for Sarah's - there are worse kinks...), and married her within 4 months of his divorce being finalized. He, in fact, wrote the part of Christine Daaé in Phantom specifically for Brightman, and she has since gone on to relative success in the "I want to be taken far more seriously than I deserve" category of pop music.

Not blessed with a particularly strong voice or a talent for finding the right note consistently, Ms Brightman also has a dark and ugly past she'd probably like to forget. See, before she met Lloyd Webber, she was a dancer, first on the British TV show Top of the Pops with their house dancers, Pan's People, and later as the lead in the leather-and-grinding group Hot Gossip.

(I remember Hot Gossip as a staple on The Kenny Everett All-Electric Video Show, the perfect British series for an adolescent boy - edgier, and funnier, I thought, than Benny Hill, the two shows actually used to make fun of each other; you might even have seen some of these sketches on Benny Hill and had no idea what they were doing. For some reason, the show never caught on in the States, although you can occasionally find it on more progressive PBS stations late at night.)

What Ms Brightman, in her continuing quest for dignity, would probably like to forget, is her disco career from that era. Her first hit, for instance, was the mind-meltingly horrendous "I Lost My Heart to a Starship Trooper."



She followed that up with the non-hit "Adventures Of The Love Crusader," and a truly depressing cover of "My Boyfriend's Back."

She may be reinventing herself as a classic/pop diva, but it's hard to escape your past.

Let them eat dumpster scraps

from Badtux the Snarky Penguin

Marie Antoinette: "Let them eat cake"(*)
Rush Limbaugh: Let them eat dumpster scraps.

That's Rush Limbaugh's child nutrition program for poor kids. No, I'm not joking. Really. Not joking.

It's clear Rush hasn't studied history, because if he had, well, he would have remembered what happened to Marie Antoinette. Just sayin'.

-- Badtux the Neck-measurin' Penguin

* Marie Antoinette never said that. That's right, the cake is a lie. But it was certainly well within her mentality, she said plenty of other things over her short life that were similar in nature.

Howdy, Cowboy Bob!

Well, I had a nice chat with another crazed fundamentalist this week. Those are always fun.

See, I ran across this guy from New York named Bob, who runs a blog he calls Stormbringer's Thunder. (I think it's interesting that he'd use Norse allusions in his blog title when he claims to be a born-again Christian, but what do I know?)

He'd apparently gone on some message board (which he never identifies) and exchanged words with a group of atheists, and this made him cranky. So he made the usual mimeographed arguments, claiming that atheists "hate God and the Bible, but have no ultimate source for their morality."

Because, of course, anybody who isn't Christian is an immoral nutjob, likely to grab a Glock and start capping pedestrians at any minute. You know, like the Dalai Lama (I never trusted that guy...).

He almost made a decent argument at one point, saying:

Where does morality come from?

We have bunches of places for our personal morality input:

- Friends
- Family
- Man-made religious directives
- Society
- Our own experiences and opinions
- Race
- Social class

Of course, you read through that list a second time, and you realize he included "race." Really? Especially since the next line is:

Fine. They all combine to make us what we are to varying degrees. But they change.

It does? I thought that those back-alley race-change operations fell out of fashion back in the Sixties. (I mean, I know that it was a hit in Asia a while back, but I thought we were past that...)

Anyway, I figured I'd chime in and see how things went.

OK, I'll bite. Let's start with the most obvious issue here.

(Atheists) hate God and the Bible

Uh... OK. Do you understand what an "atheist" is? "Lack of belief in a god or gods" is not the same as "hating God." In fact, either state kind of rules out the other. At best, the person you describe would be called an "anti-theist."

What a lot of atheists do hate, though, is being lectured by smug, moralistic theists with no actual comprehension what the phrase "burden of proof" actually means. (You know, as in "You want me to fall down and worship your God? So prove He exists.")

As to the source of morality, you'll find that every society, not just the Christian ones, have some form of the Golden Rule - "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." As for other sources, you did a fairly good job listing them right there.

You really should consider those secular authorities a little harder, though - the fact that you can get arrested for killing somebody has probably stopped more people from committing murder than the Bible has (especially since the Bible speaks favorably of any number of immoral acts).

Yeah, I was relatively sure that last line would make him cranky, but it seemed appropriate.

And he answered.

Prove he exists? Sure, I'll do that at your command in the comments section of a Weblog. Here's an idea: Check the links on the side there for apologetics. The main problem I have with proving anything to atheists is that they refuse to believe any evidence that is offered, so I refuse to waste my time.

Atheists irritate me. Either it's simple, or there are so many different kinds of atheists, or... whatever. The point is to dodge and confuse the issue. You have your own definition of atheist, others go along with other definitions. But with your sneering remarks, you've shown that you do indeed hate God.

As for "burden of proof", smug atheists believe that everything came from nothing, and the Big Bang and Evolutionism are so full of scientific and rational holes, you can drive trucks through them. Yet you people insist that they are "facts", but "we don't know quite how they happened". Yeah, real science. Burden of proof, indeed.

And where do you think laws against murder came from, Cupcake? Natural selection? Darwinism? Human nature? Get real.

You have not shown me anything other than lame, canned railing that atheists spew all the time. And I have not seen that you have a consistent, unchanging source for what you consider to be your morality other than your opinions and emotions. Yep, you're rock solid, Sally.

As far as your misstatements and slander of the Bible, do your homework. You have posted a typical but ludicrous atheist response.

I like this guy. He's got spunk.

Limited logic, he ignores the primary arguments I made to rail against atheists who confuse him by not being cookie-cutter clones of each other, and he gets to throw in random insults that make no sense. ("Sally"? That's the best you can do?) But he's got spunk.

So I figured it was my turn. (I ran a little long. Had to split this into two responses. But it went something like this.)

Check the links on the side there for apologetics.

Unfortunately, all the reasons boil down to "you must have faith that God exists." Which offers no proof.

Atheists irritate me. Either it's simple, or there are so many different kinds of atheists, or... whatever.

And there's part of your problem right there. Atheism isn’t a religion - it's a lack of religion. Atheists are a diverse group. There's no single guiding philosophy, just a lack of belief in one certain philosophy. It’s right there in the word: a- ("without") + theos ("a god")

But with your sneering remarks, you've shown that you do indeed hate God.

(Sneering? Yo, pot - check your voicemail. Kettle left you a message.) I don't feel hatred for a concept I don't particularly believe in. I do have a strong disgust for people who refuse to think for themselves, and do ignorant, savage things in the name of their "god."

smug atheists believe that everything came from nothing yadda yadda yadda

Speaking of "lame, canned railing" - people who understand science realize that there are things they can't explain. Yet. People who don't understand science dismiss it and say that a Bronze Age mythos explains everything. By saying “See? Magic!”

And where do you think laws against murder came from, Cupcake? Natural selection? Darwinism? Human nature?

Maybe they're a system of behaviors that societies have agreed must be prevented, in order for said society to continue to exist. For that reason, those behaviors were codified into a system we call "laws." (Here's another hint for you. Nonchristian societies have laws against murder, too. Why do you think that is?)

As far as your misstatements and slander of the Bible, do your homework.

Really? You don't think that the Bible supports immoral acts? Have you killed a child for mouthing off to their parents? You should. (Lev 20:9) Goes hand-in-hand with the story of the bears killing all those children for making fun of Elisha. (2 Kings 2:23-24)

For that matter, all of Leviticus 20 is a killer. Literally in some cases: adultery or marrying your mother-in-law or daughter-in-law are apparently capital offenses; weirdly, having sex with your sister just gets you shunned.

While you’re at Leviticus, though, skip back to 19: note that you are allowed to have sex with another man’s slave, but you have to sacrifice a ram to do it. (Lev 19:20-22).

In fact, the Bible supports slavery very strongly, from Genesis 9:25-27 onward. It tells you how to beat them (Exo 21:20-27), where to shop for them (Lev 25:44-46), when to have sex with them (fine examples can be found all through Genesis, but especially 16 and 30). Paul even told slaves to obey their owners the same way they obey Christ (Eph 6:5-9).

Is setting people on fire considered a good thing in your world? What about abortion? In Gen 38:24, there's a pregnant woman convicted of prostitution. Though the leaders of Israel knew the woman was carrying a fetus, they still decided to burn her. Why does the fetus have to die for the mother's crimes?

Of course, abortion is fine if you're at war with somebody. Especially if they aren't the same religion as you.

At that time Menahem, starting out from Tirzah, attacked Tiphsah and everyone in the city and its vicinity, because they refused to open their gates. He sacked Tiphsah and ripped open all the pregnant women." (2 Kings 15:16)

"The people of Samaria must bear their guilt, because they have rebelled against their God. They will fall by the sword; their little ones will be dashed to the ground, their pregnant women ripped open." (Hosea 13:16)

There is, in fact, all manner of murder and rape in the Bible. But it's the good kind of murder and rape, because it's done in the name of the Lord, right? (Jgs 21:10-24, Num 31:7-18, Deut 20:10-14, 2 Sam 12:11-14, and on and on.)

Maybe you should be doing your homework. What d’ya think, Cupcake?

I thought I did OK there. Matched his tone, made some decent arguments. But it seemed to make him unhappy or something. I guess he was practically sputtering. Because a little over ten minutes later, he responded. (I'm not sure you can trust these times, though. Maybe they reflect when he clicked "approve" on my comment or something.)

No, gutless cynic. You're boring and predictable, you know that? You don't have any interest in finding the truth, you just want to cry about things that you don't like, taken out of context. Instead of investigating serious apologetics sites, you want to throw stones at me. But I have no patience for intellectually dishonest cowards projecting their inadequacies on me.

And then, about ten minutes later, he was back.

By the way, I know you don't have the courage to do this, but call Rev. Matt Slick at his CARM radio show. He loves to debate atheists live, on the air. You missed today's show, try Monday http://www.carm.org/radio. Or you can listen to how he humiliated an arrogant atheist just like you, with the same canned "I don't like the Bible" crap here: http://xrl.in/5kpj about ten minutes into the show.

And then it wasn't even five minutes before he was back again.

One more PS and I'm done with you. You quoted me with, "Check the links on the side there for apologetics."

Your response was, "Unfortunately, all the reasons boil down to "you must have faith that God exists." Which offers no proof."

Intellectual dishonesty. You won't even bother to check the links and already know what they say. You're a troll at heart, wanting to destroy the faith of others. Search this site for "Why I Don't Trust Atheists", and you'll see that I've experienced quite a bit from your kind.

"My kind"? Doubtful.

But I've been down this road before. So I thought I'd see if I'd run out the clock here.

Wow. Look at that. It took you three responses to fail to address anything I said. Does your entire argument consist of insults and ad hominem attacks? I'm just curious. I mean, if it does, I can see why the posters at that "other" site might have attacked you.

I mean, really? "gutless cynic"? "I know you don't have the courage..."? I mean, I'm hunting through your "responses," and I can't help but notice how you have this combative style, but you don't have any substance to it.

Oh, and the best one: "I have no patience for intellectually dishonest cowards projecting their inadequacies on me." Care to explain any of that sentence? Because it doesn't seem to apply here.

You're a troll at heart, wanting to destroy the faith of others.

Really? All I've done is pointed out statements you've made in the course of this one thread, which were either mistaken or openly dishonest. When did I try to "destroy your faith"? You're the one trying to ridicule atheists, but refusing to answer any questions.

Here's something you should consider, though. Reread everything you've written. Then consider the following:

For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned. (Matthew 12:37)

With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men who are made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things should not be this way. (James 3:9-10)

O generation of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak good things? for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things: and an evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth evil things. (Matthew 12:34-36)

Do you want to actually discuss issues, or do you just want to throw insults? Because I'm only seeing you "bringing forth evil things."

And he jumped all over that, too.

Oh, drop the innocent victim act, I've seen that time and time again, too. While projecting your failures and atheist script onto me, you do the things you are accusing me of by dodging my points. You are done here, Bubbles. This is not an atheist troll playground.

So, yeah. Not too happy with me.

(* sigh *)

And I do so try to talk with people. Why must they be unreasonable? Is it my cologne?

So, to recap: he's got no arguments that don't boil down to "You suck and I hate you!" He can't accept that anyone doesn't believe in his myth-system, but he's unable to articulate it, and he believes that random insults constitute proof that he's correct. Like I said. Spunk.

I liked the way he kept talking about me "projecting" onto him. It's like he almost understood what he was doing in his responses.



Besides. I'm an agnostic troll.

A Few Million Bodies Between Friends

from Fafblog

Well now. Israel, the Palestinians, and Gaza. It's a sad story, and we're terribly sorry about it all, of course, feeling pronounced Official Regret in our pronounced Official Regretbones, and we feel compelled at this juncture to demand a request for an investigation into the possibility of an inquiry into the formation of a select bipartisan panel looking into whether or not to request an investigation. Which would be conducted by Israel, of course. No need to get too pushy here.

Now, you might say this week's events represent an atrocity, a massacre, a savage and criminal slaughter of humanitarian aid workers by a paranoid, murder-happy police state to further prolong the suffering of a million and a half refugees penned up in an open-air concentration camp. And you'd be right. But what you'd be overlooking is the fact that Israel has a right to defend itself. In particular, Israel has the right to defend itself from the millions of non-Israelis stubbornly living on land seized from them by Israel. Indeed, every day the Middle East's Only Democracy finds itself surrounded by a deadly horde of beggars, children and amputees who would stop at nothing to live next to it, with nothing to defend itself but two hundred nuclear warheads and one of the best-financed militaries in the world. Who in that position wouldn't attack a flotilla of aid ships attempting to smuggle contraband food and terrorist medicine to the stockpile of potentially rogue humans in Palestine?

Indeed, it's only at times like this that we can fully appreciate the Special Relationship between Israel and the United States. For is there any other country in the world that can so fully appreciate Israel's dilemma? To be hobbled by money, power, and privilege, menaced on all sides in a world in which there are too many Palestinians in Palestine, an overflow of Afghans in Afghanistan, a dangerous surplus of Iranians in Iran, a grave and growing stockpile of Pakistanis in Pakistan, and only we - we! - have to courage and conviction to do something about it.

Heroes

I considered writing this for Memorial Day, but I guess even I have standards.

I come from a long line of military men. Hell, I was one of them. (That's not a sexist term, by the way; it's a descriptor. If there were any WACs or other military women in my family tree, I've never heard of them.) My dad did two tours in Vietnam. His brother was an enlisted man, also in Vietnam, and in various parts of the Middle East in some lesser-known mopping-up actions. Both of my grandfathers were Army - on my father's side, he was doing clean-up after Japan surrendered in WWII. Keep going farther back, and you can keep digging up my relatives in both major and minor conflicts around the world (brobably on both sides of the battlefield every once in a while - we're an obstinate bunch like that). My son the Marine has just come back from a tour in Afghanistan.

Screw all of them. My hero is my wife.

She has a condition called polycystic kidney disease. It's the single most common life-threatening genetic disorder in the world. 12.5 million people worldwide (six hundred thousand Americans) are afflicted with PKD - that's more people than Down syndrome, cystic fibrosis, muscular dystrophy and sickle cell anemia combined.

But it's not one of the sexy diseases. It doesn't get the pink ribbons of breast cancer, the celebrity support of AIDS, or yet another "concert to raise awareness of..." like so many lesser problems.

Meanwhile, the cysts, not content to remain in the kidneys, can grow pretty much anywhere in the body. My wife has them throughout her torso, meaning she can't stand up easily, she can't walk without pain, and if she's in the car and I take a corner just a little too fast, she gets hurt.

Plus, her exercise options are limited. Aside from the fact that she can't move easily, if she were to lift weights or torque her body around, or do anything, really, that put enough pressure on a cyst to pop it, then the liquid in the cyst gets to leap out and flood the surrounding tissue. Does the phrase "searing agony" mean anything to you?

So she lives in constant pain, she can hardly move, she can't sit comfortably, and... oh, by the way, did you know that the kidneys handle a number of metabolic processes? Like that whole "dealing with sugar" thingy? Yeah, she's been diagnosed as "pre-diabetic." (Which is less of a deal than you'd think - with PKD, you know that you're going to end up on dialysis at some point, anyway.)

Normally, this disease is diagnosed in older people. So, at the age of 30, when she was diagnosed with both PKD and osteoarthritis, it was like she won the retirement home lottery.

Oh, remember how I said that this was one of the most common life-threatening genetic disorders? Yeah, a parent with this little problem has a fifty percent chance of passing it along to their kids.

Kids. Of which we have three. Do the math.

Not that she feels any guilt about any of this. Not at all.

So, faced with all of these problems, a normal person might become a trifle bitter, right? See, that's where things get a little unusual.

Annette is one of the only truly good people I've ever met. She's generally cheerful. She doesn't judge people. She doesn't like to complain. Where most of us have a little dark part of our soul where all the evil feelings fester, she's got a brightly-lit room filled with kittens and puppies.

She has a giggle that I've always loved that dances across the room, and she uses it all the time. Life dumps crap down on her, and she just wonders if she should make a bigger garden with all this new fertilizer.

So if, once in a while, faced with debilitating pain, she might get a little cranky, she doesn't let it show much. And, faced with all these other problems, she's also beset with entirely too much of me. And she really doesn't complain about that, despite what a big pain in the ass I am.

I don't know what I did in a previous life to end up married to her, but I'd do it again. Twice. She's worth it.

Sadly for her, she's stuck with me.

Family Research Council: "Pray that Gay Rapists Don't Infiltrate Khaki Ass" (perhaps NSFW)

From the Rude Pundit

As a loyal member of the Super-Duper Prayer Team, yesterday, the Rude Pundit received his weekly Prayer Target list from the evangelical Family Research Council (motto: "Here a queer, there a queer, everywhere a queer queer"). The Rude Pundit joined the Super-Duper Prayer Team a few years ago under a secret nom de rude, which means that he gets emails o' faith that tell him what causes need some hot oral action on his knees. Each Wednesday, a letter arrives that says, more or less, "Hey, Jesus didn't shave his balls for nothing. Get busy."

And so he dutifully opened up the email and, lo and behold, what do you think our praylatio orders were about? It's a motherfuckin' emergency, man: "FRC President Tony Perkins believes the President's effort to infiltrate our military services with practicing homosexuals through the repeal of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' (DADT) is a 'Gettysburg' moment in the war for the soul of our nation, and that it is time for God's people to 'pull out all the stops.'" Yes, preventing gay men and women from serving their country in the military is the equivalent of 50,000 casualties in a Civil War battle. And, by the way, which side of the Civil War is the FRC saying it's on? The side preventing people from having rights? Or the side that was fighting to keep the Union together and end slavery?

(On another note, one of the Rude Pundit's favorite Civil War stories: In 1864, Massachusetts soldiers encamped in Virginia decided to have a formal ball. Sixty of the males, including the drummer boys, dressed in gowns and were the "women" for the evening. One soldier wrote, "Some of the them looked good enough to lay with, and I guess some of them did get laid with. I know I slept with mine.")

This is important, goddamnit: "We need prayer for God to show us just what is being said in secret government counsel chambers and to give us creative ideas to stop these evil schemes." Perkins apparently went into some kind of psychological collapse over the threat to repeal DADT for a bill that says, if the Pentagon gives the thumbs-up, the Navy won't know what to do with all the seamen: "In his prayer time yesterday morning, Tony wept for our nation. He saw in his mind's eye the oil now spewing from the Gulf of Mexico and polluting the gulf coast and saw it as a picture of the sexual immorality now polluting our land."

As if to demonstrate this immorality in the hottest way possible, the possible future is described as intensely homoerotic: "The sexual immorality that has oozed in our culture for decades with government consent and support has been bad, but under the legislation now being offered, it will become 'an unstoppable gusher and the damage will be catastrophic.' Please pray fervently." Dude, the Rude Pundit prayed all over his jeans reading that.

The problem, see, according to an FRC "researcher" who "analyzed" (with an emphasis on "anal") data about same sex assaults in the military, is that gay people are just too into raping straights. You put a straight guy in front of a gay one and a raping's gonna happen. His study proves it. Now, one could argue that the paranoia and self-loathing that enforced closeting has engendered in gay soldiers has led to such incidents. One might also argue that the number of assaults, while serious in and of itself, is a mere drop in the bucket compared to the assaults on women by male soldiers. One might argue that so many of the incidents involve drunk people that maybe alcoholism is the real problem. One might even argue that if you have a few million people in a group, there's gonna be some assholes who like cock. And assholes.

But then you'd be thinking with your logical brain and not just outright hating you some homosexuals. 'Cause we gotta pray, motherfuckers. We got our orders: "May God stir his people to 'take out all the stops!' May they aggressively pray and take action to stop this morally, spiritually, and in every other way senseless measure. May God open the blinded eyes in both Houses of Congress in sufficient numbers to stop this measure in its tracks. May God enlist believers who will pray day and night until the efforts to overturn DADT and to pass ENDA, have both been defeated!" No sleep, you Jesus-hating pussies. Day and night.

One of the bible passages we're supposed to read to accompany our prayer is Jeremiah 5:21-29, which is God getting all pissy and wanting people to tremble before him or whatever. Of course, if you go one verse more, you get this: "A horrible and shocking thing has happened in the land: The prophets prophesy lies, the priests rule by their own authority, and my people love it this way. But what will you do in the end?" To put that another way, all those people, like, say, Tony Perkins, telling you what to say and what the invisible sky wizard think? Their own God thinks they're full of shit and that you're a loser if you believe them.

Self Abuse

I didn't realize that I was suicidal. But apparently I'm not very good at it. That, or my subconscious hates me, but only in a passive-aggressive way.

We got all kinds of work done this weekend. We got the pool opened (even though it's too cold to swim yet), we got the garden started, and we kicked off the biggest part of Spring Cleaning (a roughly bi-annual event at our house - hey, no need to go overboard, right? Spring will come back around if we miss one...).

Meanwhile, I skinned three knuckles, scraped up my left knee, whacked my head on a cabinet, and got a good-sized scrape on my toe where I stubbed it on one of the triceratops femurs that our horse-sized canines like to gnaw on.

Then, on Saturday evening, I was walking out of the kitchen, and as I walked past the watering trough, I didn't realize that one of the dogs, and I'm suspecting Tasha here, had decided that she needed to wash her muzzle rather than drink. And in the course of dunking her head and violently shaking it side-to-side, she'd left a coating of water on everything for ten feet in every direction.

Anybody want to guess at the frictional coefficient of bare feet on wet tile? I hit the ground pretty hard, scraping the other knee and my elbow. Oh, and spilling the glass of water I was carrying, which seemed redundant somehow.

(Technically, it was slightly under the elbow, a few inches down. Exactly in the same place that you rest your arm when sitting in a chair or leaning on a counter. And rotated slightly inside the arm, so it's right where your shirt rubs against it when you move your arm. Little things you don't really notice until something like this comes up.)

And then, Monday morning, I see my bus pulling up while I'm still fifty feet away and at an angle to the rear of the bus. So there's limited chance that he'd see me. I go sprinting to catch it. And as I rounded the back of the bus, my foot flexed just a little more so I could go up on the curve. The barest amount more than it had before.

Remember how I had a scrape on one toe? Something you don't really notice until your shoe bends just right, sending a small jolt of pain through your foot? Just enough that you can't recover quite right when your other foot comes down on a rock?

Yeah, I went sprawling. Sprained my ankle, bruised my hip, scraped the heel of my hand, and caused some kind of soft tissue injury on my shoulder so it's good and stiff and uncomfortable when I move it. Of course, that's not a problem - how often do you move your right shoulder, huh?

On the bright side, I managed to not rip my pants. That would have made the morning complete. (Kind of surprising, considering the fist-size purple bruise I have there now.)

So essentially, my superego, in collusion with my dogs, is trying to commit the Death of a Thousand Cuts on me. Except that I have a very imaginative superego, and it likes to throw in a little blunt force trauma, just to keep things exciting.

So this morning, I got to work, and the first thing I managed to do is give myself a paper cut. Definitely can't blame that on the dogs.

My subconscious and I are going to have to have a long talk.

Letters to the Senator

Senator Bingaman,

(and Senator Udall, and, even though he isn't mine, Representative Grayson - hey, I'm a completist...)

So, I'm curious. How much do you know about the newest Social Security commission? Now admittedly, parts of this are from Huffington Post, and I haven't been entirely satisfied that they aren't trying to be a left-wing Fox News (which, God knows, is the last thing we need - we're getting enough lies from the Republicans).

However, we seem to have a group of white, middle-aged millionaires, meeting in secret to decide the fate of Social Security, Medicare, and all the other social programs the GOP hates.

They're the National Commission on Fiscal Responsibility and Reform, and they seem to be trying to stay under the radar, possibly until the midterms are over. But some of their members are fascinating. For example, the only member who knows about defense spending, for example, is David M. Cote, CEO of Honeywell (you know, the major defense contractor).

And Peter G. Peterson, billionaire and former Nixon administration Secretary of Commerce (and former Chairman and CEO of Lehman Brothers) has already sponsored an event attended by both co-chairs and two other members of the commission, where they ignored a lot of the real problems we're facing, and tried to get all banker-friendly.

(Peterson, by the way, has been on a crusade to destroy Social Security for decades now.)

Just thought you should consider looking into this. I'd appreciate it.

Thanks for your time.

Adventures in cooking

So, the Trophy Wife was out the other night, doing Engelbert Humperdinck's opera "Hansel & Gretel" for the schoolkids of Gallup, New Mexico. (That's the Engelbert Humperdinck who was writing fairy tale opera's for children in the 1890's, not the one who was singing crap pop music for the soulless masses in the 1960's.) She's been doing this with Opera Unlimited for just shy of five years now.

So there I was, my son and I, left to my own devices for dinner. Not the first time - I am a passable cook; although not nearly as good as the Trophy Wife, I can follow a recipe with the best of them. ("Recipe" being a moderately important word here, though. I don't have a lot of instincts for cooking, so if I don't have a list of ingredients and instructions, it might be best to have the pizza place on speed dial.)

But we really had no idea what we were going to eat, and Christopher went rummaging in the pantry. The first thing he turned up was a can of Spam that dated back to when Luke headed off to the Marines. (For some inexplicable reason, both my sons like Spam.)

The second thing he turned up was a can of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. And he put these two cans on the counter and grunted in his pidgin Neanderthal "Make food." Then he wandered off to finish digging the pit-trap for the mastadon.

I looked at the two cans for a minute, as they sat there on the counter, mocking me. And I decided to go with a really simple application. I cut the Spam into five slices, put them in a skillet to sear slightly on each side, and dumped the chili's in on top of them.

The first thing that hit me was the smell - it was like barbecue sauce, only good. (Sorry, I'm not a big BBQ sauce fan - that doesn't mean I'm a bad person, does it?) After I flipped the Spam slices, I poured some red wine in on top, and let it cook it down a little. Then I just served it over rice.

Then Christopher and I sat there, watching the fourth Die Hard movie (easily the best since the first one), and reveled in our pain.

See, my wife isn't exactly a fan of spicy food (and when I say "not a big fan of," what I mean is "kind of a wimp about"), so I've cut way back on my capsaicin consumption over the last two decades or so.

In case you aren't aware, chipotles are just the smoked version of jalapeno peppers. So not the hottest thing out there, but once you've worked your way through four or five of them, the built-up heat gets pretty intense. Take a drink, the heat just goes downstream, without lessening at the top at all.

The thing about capsaicin is that it clings to everything. I once picked up a bottle of some seriously kick-ass hot sauce when I was helping a guy move, and I didn't know that he'd spilled some on the outside. An hour later, after washing my hands once, I rubbed my eye where some dust had gotten in. I was reasonably certain that I was going to go blind (possibly by plucking my eyeball out to stop the burning).

The smokiness of the chipotles was mostly overpowered by the adobo sauce, but the heat? Not even close. It was awesome; we both ended up with a chili high that had us laughing at each other for no good reason.

(It's amazing, as puritanical as some people are, that chili's haven't been banned yet.)

Capsaicin has a number of uses other than tormenting the cowardly gourmands. It's one of the main chemicals in one of the varieties of mace (specifically, the one referred to as "pepper-spray," by some weird coincidence), and a number of pain ointments use it as a key ingredient (for example, a product called Capzasin).

Oh, and one final note. I'd forgotten that, when you severely overindulge on chili peppers, you need to understand that everything goes somewhere. And capsaicin doesn't always break down as readily as you'd expect in the digestive system.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the next day, you'll be sitting on the toilet, and it will feel like somebody coated their finger in Capzasin and shoved it up your butt. Just a thought.

But then, last night, I took my first crack at making soba noodles. And that is a truly weird experience.

There's all kinds of good reasons to eat soba noodles - they're made from buckwheat instead of processed white flour, and, you know, the less processing of your food the better, right? Plus, they're high in fiber, which is something everybody needs on a regular basis (so to speak). And in one study, it was shown that buckwheat lowered the serum glucose levels in rats by 12 to 19 per cent. And with growing numbers of diabetic Americans, that might just be something to pay attention to.

Now, the package instructions were pretty much written by a crazy man. Basically, you bring the water to a rolling boil, toss in the noodles, and keep the heat cranked. When the water tries to boil over, pour in a cup of cold water, and when it tries to boil over again, kill the heat. Rinse.

And boil over it did. (Or actually, it tried to - I was just too fast for it.) I suspect it's the variety of starch that buckwheat throws off, but it's pretty damned similar to boiling a pot of detergent. It foams up like a mad dog chewing a can of shaving cream.

It's the insane way to deal with soba. People who cook their soba that way will probably also serve it by reaching into the boiling water and pulling out handfuls of noodly goodness.

Fortunately, a little research found me a food blog by an ex-pat Japanese woman living in Switzerland (hey, welcome to the 21st Century), who shows us a more reasonable way to cook soba. (Possibly, in fact, too controlled, approaching anal-retentive; I mean, come on! "hold the noodles over the water and sprinkle them in strand by strand?" Really?)

Basically, boil the water (or broth - whatever), toss in the noodles, stir... hell, it's her story, let's let her tell it.

Bring the water back up to a gentle boil, then lower the heat so that the water is just simmering. (This differs from the ‘rolling boil’ that’s recommended for pasta.) If the water threatens to boil over, add about 1/2 cup of cold water (but if you lower the heat to the gentle simmer, and have a big enough pot, this shouldn’t be necessary). Cook for about 7 to 8 minutes, or following the package directions (for thinner noodles 5 to 6 minutes may be enough. Test by eating a strand - it should be cooked through, not al dente, but not mushy either).

At this point, you may want to reserve some of the cooking water. This is called sobayu (そば湯), literally ‘hot soba water’, and many people like to add it to the remaining soba dipping sauce at the end of the meal to drink like soup!

Drain the noodles into a colander. Immediately return them to the pot and fill the pot with cold water. When you’re draining the hot water you may notice that it smells quite ‘floury’. This is what you want to get totally rid of.

If the noodles threaten to flood out over the pot, put the colander on the pot to hold the noodles down. Leave the water running for a while over the noodles.

Once the water and the noodle are cool, start to ‘wash’ the noodles. Take handfuls and gently swish and rub them in the water. Your goal is to wash off any trace of starchiness or gumminess on the noodles. When you’re done the water should run clear.

She goes on to talk about presentation and stuff, but basically, it's noodles. You know the drill, right? Then just rinse them when you're done. They'll be fine.

Stormy Weather

Lena Horne died on Sunday, May 9, 2010. The circumstances of her death were withheld by the family, but she was, after all, 94 years old.

I'm not old enough to really remember her at her peak - for me, she was always a presence on TV variety shows and a legendary name in a type of music I've only lately come to appreciate.

While the nascent civil rights movement was struggling to gain any kind of foothold, she had the advantage of being "traditionally" beautiful (that is, attractive to white people). As she put it:

"I was unique in that I was a kind of black that white people could accept. I was their daydream. I had the worst kind of acceptance because it was never for how great I was or what I contributed. It was because of the way I looked."

Lena Mary Calhoun Horne was born in Brooklyn on June 30, 1917. She dropped out of school at age 14, and began working as a singer and dancer at New York's legendary Cotton Club two years later.

She quickly became a featured singer, and after a series of nightclub and touring jobs (and one failed marriage), she signed on with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Her debut role with MGM was Panama Hattie (1942).

Despite the fact that the star of this unmemorable picture was Red Skelton, Ms Horne continued to have a career afterwards. (Oddly, so did Mr. Skelton.)

It wasn't until the next year, on loan to 20th Century Fox, that she would sing what became one of her signature numbers, the title song to the all-black musical Stormy Weather. Her voice, at the age of 20, had yet to gain the power or the depth she would have later in life, but the song still became a hit.



Because of the prevailing racism of the day, her film appearances most often had to be "stand-alone" scenes that could be cut out when the movie played in the South. In fact, for much of the early part of her career she couldn't even stay in the hotels where she was performing, because they wouldn't accept blacks.

She spoke briefly of her relationship with Count Basie in a 1982 tribute to the jazz legend.



She was an activist and civil rights pioneer for most of her life.

In 1941, she sang at Cafe Society and worked with Paul Robeson. During World War II, when entertaining the troops for the USO, she refused to perform "for segregated audiences or for groups in which German POWs were seated in front of African American servicemen" according to her Kennedy Center biography. She was at the March on Washington and spoke and performed on behalf of the NAACP, SNCC and the National Council of Negro Women. She also worked with Eleanor Roosevelt to pass antilynching laws.

It was, in fact, her friendship with Paul Robeson, himself an activist (he was openly pro-Soviet and fought to end the oppression of the colonized people of Africa, Asia and the Atlantic and Pacific nations, among many other politically unpopular causes) that got Ms. Horne blacklisted during the Fifties. But by then she'd given up movie work and was a nightclub performer once again, so it really didn't affect her all that much. She only had two movie roles after that, Death of a Gunfighter (1969), and, sadly, The Wiz (1978).

Although she never seemed to be truly comfortable when surrounded by a crowd of Muppets, she still appeared on Sesame Street multiple times throughout the 70s.



Lena Horne fought her entire life for acceptance and for the rights of others. Like so few others, she qualifies as an American legend.

Death of the Conservative Meme

So, while I've been engaged in a pitched battle with ABQ Ride, it's been a hard month to be a Republican, hasn't it?

For those of you who've been living in a cave (and come to think of it, bin Laden probably heard about this one anyway), a man named Faisal Shahzad loaded a car with a badly-made bomb and a chest full of fertilizer, parked it in Times Square, and went to Kennedy Airport, where he paid cash for a ticket to Dubai. But despite this brilliant escape plan, his plane was stopped on the runway just before it took off and he was arrested.

Shahzad drove a Nissan Pathfinder (which he'd planned to use to destroy the Disney Store - and really, who among us hasn't?) which he'd purchased for $1,300 (again, in cash), and had filed to VIN number off of the dashboard. But, because he was a cartoon villain, he apparently didn't realize that it was also stamped on the engine. The police tracked down the original owner through the VIN, which led them to Shahzad.

I really don't know if I'm relieved or unhappy that he used a Nissan. I mean, come on, Faisal, I know we're the children of the Great Satan, but you could at least buy American, right?

The bomb could have produced a significant fireball, even though the fertilizer wasn't the volatile ammonium nitrate used by so many terrorists. But that's OK, because a dirty bomb is a dirty bomb, right? Radioactive waste spread over a 5-mile area, versus flaming poo in Times Square. No real difference.

Shahzad was a naturalized American citizen from Pakistan, who had recently gone back on a visit. He apparently received his explosives training on that visit (although, if this bomb was his final exam, I think he failed).

In fact, there is some evidence that Faisal received both training and funding from the Pakistani Taliban, which, in the larger sense, makes me wonder why we haven't wiped these idiots out already. They're apparently led by Wile E. Coyote, so why hasn't reality manifested itself as a giant anvil in midair, and crushed these morons?

Now, despite all of the conservatives screaming incoherently about the dangers of illegal immigration, has anybody noticed that Shahzad, was a legal immigrant? Like all of the 9/11 terrorists, and pretty much every other terrorist responsible for pretty much every terrorist attack in pretty much the entire history of America. (You know, except for all the ones who were actually born in America - we can't forget them, can we?)

There's another opinion that the GOP likes to throw into the debate, most publically articulated by Dick Cheney (a man who hasn't made a good, decent or moral decision in his entire life).

"We made a decision after 9/11 that I think was crucial. We said, 'This is a war - it's not a law enforcement problem,' " Mr. Cheney said. "Once you go into a wartime situation and it's a strategic threat, then you use all of your assets to go after the enemy ... you use your intelligence resources, your military resources, your financial resources, everything you can in order to shut down that terrorist threat against you.

"When you go back to the law enforcement mode, which is what I sense they're doing, closing Guantanamo and so forth, they are very much giving up that center of attention and focus that's required, and that concept of military threat that's essential if you're going to successfully defend the nation against further attacks."

Shahzad was captured thanks entirely to police work. I would like to be the one to mention this to the aptly-named Dick, but he can't come out of his coffin during daylight.

Related to that sneering attitude toward our law enforcement community, there's the GOP's entirely unchristian, anti-American opinion that torture is good and civil rights are bad. The most recent example, in fact, involved the Shahzad case, where Grampy McCain was asked whether this failure of a terrorist should be Mirandized.

"Obviously that would be a serious mistake... at least until we find out as much information we have... Don't give this guy his Miranda rights until we find out what it's all about."

Well, guess what? Just like the Underwear Bomber before him, a fully-mirandized Shahzad is spilling his guts. Without one single cattle-prod, without watering any boards.

("Oh, come on," I can hear you saying. "Unamerican? Unchristian?" Yes. You want to take the civil rights away from American citizens? Because that's what Shahzad was. On top of which, foreigners still have rights under the Constitution; the courts have said that over and over. And while you're mulling that over, consider that Christ was supposed to have been tortured and then nailed to a tree; would He support you treating another human like that?)

Of course, our friends in the GOP also support other ideas, but very few of them are good. (Anybody remember Terri Schiavo?) For example, "Deregulation of industry is a good idea! If you don't tie the hands of the Free Market, they'll regulate themselves, and puppies and kittens will drop into the laps of all the good boys and girls!"

I believe we all saw what happened when Wall Street was deregulated. (And yes, this all stems back to legislation put out by Bill Clinton. But it was only under Bush the Younger that the full flower of GOP policy could take place.)

And, of course, since it was deregulation that allowed British Petroleum to omit a simple acoustic trigger which would have prevented the devastation to the Gulf Coast following the recent explosion on the oil rig, we have yet another example of the world-wide consequences of allowing the mythical "free market" to police themselves.

And speaking of the Gulf of Mexico, does anybody remember the phrase "Drill, baby, drill"? Yeah, that worked out well, didn't it?

So, really, has the GOP gotten anything right? Let's be real. What we have here is the Universe getting together to show people what an idiot Sarah Palin really is.

But are any of the teabaggers listening?

Ihre Papieren, bitte!

Once again, we have been given evidence to prove that Arizona is where bigots go to die.

I mean, let’s be honest. This is a state where, every summer, 90% of the population spends their days sitting in the shade panting and watching their dashboards melt. This isn’t someplace you go without first suffering severe brain trauma.

So, to prove that they can be just as prejudiced as South Carolina, Arizona decided to pass a law which would allow the police to pull over anybody swarthier than Karl Rove and ask to see their paperwork. Of course, the police are just checking their documents to make sure they’re here legally, right? (Not to get all Godwinny here, but isn’t that exactly the same reasoning used by the police in 1930s Germany?)

So what we have here is a law that is opposed by police and churches. The top lawman in Pima County, Sheriff Clarence Dupnik said that the law is "racist," "disgusting," and "unnecessary," and he’s not going to enforce it.

Even Tom Ridge, Bush’s former head of Homeland Security, is uncomfortable with the law, saying it allows the police to question people without probable cause. So why is it going into effect?

Well, Grampa McCain was on Fox News to say that we needed it because of “the drivers of cars with illegals in it (sic) that are intentionally causing accidents on the freeway."

Of course, while McCain has had issues with things like honesty for some time now, this statement is kind of fascinating. I mean, he’s talking about an actual crime:

This particular scam is called the "swoop and squat." (The first car "swoops" in while the second car "squats" in front of you.) After the "accident," everyone in the car you rear-ended—usually crammed full of passengers—will file bogus injury claims with your insurance company. Each will complain of whiplash or other soft-tissue injuries—things difficult for doctors to confirm. They may even go to crooked physical therapists, chiropractors, lawyers, or auto repair technicians to further exaggerate their claims.

But think about it for just a second. It would be kind of stupid for an illegal immigrant to intentionally draw attention to himself when the police are on their way, and they’ll be getting driver's licenses and suchlike documentation from everybody, isn't it? This scam is strictly for the criminals with legal, documented identities.

Representative Brian Bilbray is trying to claim that the law won’t involve racial profiling, because the police can spot them by their clothes and shoes.



Jeff Palast has an interesting point:

What moved GOP Governor Jan Brewer to sign the Soviet-style show-me-your-papers law is the exploding number of legal Hispanics, US citizens all, who are daring to vote -- and daring to vote Democratic by more than two-to-one. Unless this demographic locomotive is halted, Arizona Republicans know their party will soon be electoral toast. Or, if you like, tortillas.

In 2008, working for Rolling Stone with civil rights attorney Bobby Kennedy, our team flew to Arizona to investigate what smelled like an electoral pogrom against Chicano voters ... directed by one Jan Brewer.

Brewer, then Secretary of State, had organized a racially loaded purge of the voter rolls that would have made Katherine Harris blush. Beginning after the 2004 election, under Brewer's command, no less than 100,000 voters, overwhelmingly Hispanics, were blocked from registering to vote. In 2005, the first year of the Great Brown-Out, one in three Phoenix residents found their registration applications rejected.

That statistic caught my attention. Voting or registering to vote if you're not a citizen is a felony, a big-time jail-time crime. And arresting such criminal voters is easy: after all, they give their names and addresses.

So I asked Brewer's office, had she busted a single one of these thousands of allegedly illegal voters? Did she turn over even one name to the feds for prosecution?

No, not one.

Which raises the question: were these disenfranchised voters the criminal, non-citizens Brewer tagged them, or just not-quite-white voters given the José Crow treatment, entrapped in document-chase trickery?

The answer was provided by a federal prosecutor who was sent on a crazy hunt all over the Western mesas looking for these illegal voters. "We took over 100 complaints, we investigated for almost 2 years, I didn’t find one prosecutable voter fraud case."

At least three Arizona cities are considering taking legal action to block the law, and lawsuits have already been filed by police officers and Latino groups.

And Governor Jan Brewer better hope that one of those lawsuits overturns this law before another American citizen is detained for not carrying his birth certificate.

I mean, admittedly, the evidence over the last decade shows that Republicans don't want to actually read the Constitution, but does the following statement sound familiar to anybody?

"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized."

It’s a shame that I’m so damned white. Because Arizona is right next door, and if I looked in any way Hispanic, I would be driving their highways (at the speed limit), with a video camera operator in the passenger seat. And the first words out of my mouth, every time I got pulled over, would be "why are you stopping me, officer?"

Because you want to sue early. This law is going away soon, but I predict that it won't go away before Arizona writes somebody a fairly sizable check for having their Constitutional rights violated.
__________

Update (5/1/10): Well, Governor Brewer went on Fox "News" to whinge to spokesbarbie Megyn Kelly about the unfair treatment she's been receiving.



She complained, for one thing, about the comparisons to Nazi Germany. Well, OK then. I guess that all Nazi comparisons might currently be under GOP copyright, so perhaps we should compare this legislation to laws in other countries where citizens were required to carry identity papers. That's only fair, right?



My favorite part of this long loving massage that Kelly gave the governor would have to be this quote, though.

You know Arizona has been under terrorist attacks, if you will, with all of this illegal immigration that has been taking place on our very porous border.

Really? Because according to statistics from the Bureau of Justice, crime in Arizona has been steadily dropping since 2005, thanks to policies put in place by Democratic Governor Janet Napolitano, the current US Secretary of Homeland Security.

In fact, study after study shows that the immigrant community commits less crime than native-born populations.

To be honest, a 2007 study by the University of Munich noted that Arizona "historically has not had a terrorist attack," although if you go back 15 years, the Arizona Viper Militia had been stockpiling weapons and planning on blowing up a federal building in Phoenix, but were arrested before they could do anything.

So, that argument is really a non-starter. And the governor is either an idiot, a liar, or simply paranoid.

I'm not sure which.

Regarding bus schedules and communication

Rebecca Torres
Albuquerque Transit Department

Dear Ms Torres,

You know, some days go better than others. For example, let’s look at today.

I ride the #1 bus north on Juan Tabo in the morning, and transfer to the #5 on Montgomery Blvd going west. Now, at the time that I do this little maneuver, the #1 bus is supposed to arrive at the stop at 7:06 a.m., I get off and walk about 50 feet, and the #5 pulls up at 7:10. It’s a good system, but since there’s only 4 minutes between them, I realize that things might go wrong. I’m understanding that way.

For example, yesterday, when the #1 didn’t pull up to Montgomery until a little after 7:30, I didn’t get particularly upset. Stuff happens. Admittedly, that was the second time this week that stuff had happened, but sometimes, I’ve found that it’s just not worth getting upset.

However, this morning, as we were pulling up to the light on Montgomery, and I watched the #5 cross the road while we were still 50 yards away, that made me a little unhappy. But I stood up and walked to the front of the bus, and asked the driver if he could let me off there, figuring that I could dash across the street and maybe catch it anyway.

And when the bus driver informed me that he couldn’t do that because he would get written up, I accepted that; it might be true. I didn’t say a word. But then, when he followed that up with “I heard what you said back there,” it is always possible that I might have gotten tense.

You see, I had apparently let an impolite expletive escape my lips when I saw the bus go by. It was rude of me, and I apologize for it.

But you know, it is entirely possible that I cursed twice more at that point. Once, when I asked him if he was actually going to try and berate me for an accidental utterance caused by his inability to follow his own schedule. And as I got off the bus, when I suggested that he should have a nice fucking day.

And to be entirely honest, I might not have made that last suggestion, if he hadn’t informed me that I should probably take another bus from now on. Thinking about it, I’m relatively sure that it was at that moment that I felt I should contact you and ask you to have a talk with that particular individual.

I didn’t get his name, but I’m sure that you have the ability to discover who was driving the #1 bus northbound, which would have left the Wenonah and Tramway Park and Ride at 6:46 a.m. (and since that’s only 10 minutes before they’re supposed to pick me up, I’ll admit that I’m a little confused that they so consistently fail to arrive at my stop on time, much less manage to drive less than three miles north).

And when you have that little talk with him, after you suggest that he might want to follow the assigned schedule a little more closely, you could point out that the First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States grants us the freedom of speech. I mean, looking at him, it’s been a decade or three since he went to school, and he might have forgotten that little fact.

But more importantly, if you could suggest that there are times when he might not want to make a bad situation worse, I would take that as a personal favor.

Thank you for your time.
______________

Update (5/5/2010): So, this morning, I sent this one, and copied the next person on the seating chart, who happens to be Executive Assistant to the Director, Doreen Delacruz. I'm starting to wonder how long this is going to go on. There's only two more layers of supervision over there, and the second one is the mayor.

Ms Torres,

Regarding the email below, I note that you haven’t yet responded to me. I hope that would be because you’ve been swamped and haven’t found the time to do so.

Really, that’s kind of a shame. (Remember that last line, about not making a situation worse? Yeah...)

I was waiting at my stop to my usual time (6:57 a.m.). And as the bus approached (four minutes late, incidentally, so it was 50/50 whether I’d be making the transfer anyway), I saw him through the windshield. Same driver as on Thursday (whose name, for reasons which should become obvious, I still don’t know). And he saw me. He was, in fact, looking directly at me, completely deadpan. As he drove past without stopping.

See, I get on the #1 bus at Juan Tabo and Mountain, the first stop north of Lomas. It’s a fairly open piece of road, with an empty Pizza Hut parking lot behind me. So even if he hadn’t been looking at me, it would be difficult for him to claim that he hadn’t seen me.

I’m curious. Is this considered acceptable by the Albuquerque Transit Department? For small-minded, judgmental drivers to vindictively decide whether a customer will be riding his bus, based on the fact that his virginal ears were assaulted on one instance with unpleasant language?

I’m not a particularly vindictive person, and fortunately I didn’t have an early meeting this morning. I’m not going to make some unreasonable demand that he be fired – if nothing else, in this economy, it would be extremely hard for him to be hired anywhere else, especially at his age.

However, I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to deal with this kind of behavior any more. Perhaps they’re looking for drivers in the South Valley?

I’ve been a customer on your buses for several years now. I normally have a good relationship with the drivers. In fact, the next bus (which did, in fact, stop for me – bus number 314, on route #1) was driven by Carl, and I have nothing but good things to say about him. He knows that I’ve got an iffy transfer to the #5 bus, and he consistently calls ahead for me without being asked.

I don’t think that it’s unreasonable of me to be a little unhappy about this. I called 311 and explained to the operator what had just happened – the report number is 5704092. I would appreciate a response this time. My telephone number is (redacted).

Sincerely,
_________

Update (5/6/2010): And so, this morning, I sent another e-mail. This time, I copied both Ms Delacruz, and the Director of ABQ RIDE, Bruce Rizzieri. (That's what they call it - Ay Bee Cue Ride, all in caps. They even have their own Wikipedia entry.) You know, most people get normal hobbies...

Dear Ms Torres,

Thank you for calling me back yesterday afternoon. I appreciated hearing from you. However, I still have an issue – technically, I suppose, the same issue, but as it is ongoing, I felt I should give you an update.

After yesterday’s experience, I walked two blocks to the Lomas bus stop, where other passengers were waiting as well. One of them, an older gentleman named Robert, has been riding the same bus that I have for about two years now, and, while we were waiting, we got to talking about my fascinating experiences of this last week. He thought they were unusual, too.

Sensing that this wasn’t going to go well, I courteously allowed everybody else to board before I got on. And the driver set his brake and informed me that I was going to have to ride another bus.

I stayed friendly. Admittedly, mostly because it was roughly what I expected. But, to make this easier on you, I asked him his name. I thought his response was fascinating, though. “I’m not going to tell you.”

That seemed like an interesting answer, so I verified with him that I’d heard him correctly. To which he said “That’s right. But there’s the bus number.” And he pointed at it behind me.

So, admittedly, while I didn’t have his name (and I apologize for adding to your workload, but I’m afraid that you’re going to have to look it up), but this all occurred on Route 1, bus number 308, at 6:58 a.m.

While I was writing this down, he informed me that I needed to get off, because the other passengers needed to get to work. Still writing, I suggested that I did, too. And I verified that Robert had heard our little exchange. (He had, but looked uncomfortable – I don’t think he likes confrontation.)

So, when I finished writing, I politely informed him that since, as he had pointed out, the other passengers did, in fact, need to get to work (or school, in many cases, but I suspect that very few of the students would be depressed at being delayed), I wouldn’t hold things up any longer. As I got off, our anonymous bus driver told me that he was going to make sure that I couldn’t ride any buses from now on.

Now, here’s my question. Have you, in fact, given bus drivers the ability to unilaterally decide that paying customers are no longer allowed to be passengers? That seems like a self-defeating policy to me. What, for example, do you do when some self-important moralist decides to he doesn’t like an otherwise nice guy like me?

I mean, admittedly, after 21 years in the military, I have a stubborn streak (you may have figured that one out already), but I’m told that I’m remarkably friendly.

If, in fact, this ability to ban passengers does exist, I’m sure that there must be a hearing process for reinstatement, and I should probably request such a hearing. Either way, though, I really was hoping to get some resolution on this issue.

Thank you for your time.

Update III: The Final Chapter (?) (5/11/2010): Now, yesterday morning, I noticed that the bus drivers had all changed routes (which they do periodically). My first thought was that, since the Transit Department knew this was coming, they were just using the Power of Positive Indolence to make the problem go away.

But then, at 10:00 this morning, I received my first written response. Gotta say, it was more heartening than any other part of this process.

Mr. Minnich,

I have reviewed the videos from April 29th, May 5th, and May 6th to see exactly what happened with this Bus driver. For the incident on the 29th, the driver did as he was trained and should not have left you off the bus on the south side of Montgomery. I apologize for him running late and you missing your connection but drivers are only allowed to stop at authorized stops.

On May 5th, it was obvious that the driver passed you up at your bus stop and this issue is being addressed. Drivers do not have the authority to pass up any passenger at any location. As far as I’m aware, the driver did not receive the authorization from any Supervisor to do so either.

On May 6th, when you attempted to board the bus at Lomas and Juan Tabo, if the driver felt that you boarding the bus was going to be a safety issue, then he should have contacted a Supervisor or Security to have you removed. Based on what I have seen on the videos, you may have been upset about what has happened to you but you don’t appear to be a safety issue to this driver.

As I said earlier, these issues with the driver have been addressed and hopefully should not happen again. I would like to arrange to have a Supervisor meet you on the bus when you ride the next time to make sure that everything goes smoothly. If you can let me know when that will be, I will get it all set up.

If you have any questions, please let me know.

Sincerely,

Danny R. Holcomb
ABQ Ride Customer Service Manager

I actually hadn't known until yesterday that there were that many cameras on the buses. Then I noticed the forward-facing one by the door, and asked the (new, and somewhat chatty) driver about them - he pointed out about 3 more. So there I am, backed up by the taped evidence.

Seeing this whole scene ending with me, fully vindicated, riding off into the sunset, I responded to Mr Holcomb.

Mr Holcomb,

Thank you for getting back to me.

It looks like the drivers have all changed routes, so, unless he stayed, I don’t see where I’m likely to have a problem any more. (The power of positive passive-aggressive behavior, I guess – if I’d just been patient, it all would have cleared up anyway.)

I’ll admit that I’m a little concerned that this driver might easily treat other people this way – possibly somebody not as willing to make waves (which, you might have noticed, isn’t an issue for me).

Thanks for taking care of this.

And within ten minutes, I had another response (though the mills of justice grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small):

Actually, this driver took the same bid, which means that he will be on the same route 3 times a week. This is why I would like to get everything resolved once and for all.

Danny R. Holcomb
ABQ Ride Customer Service Manager

And then, an hour later, I had a phone message, from yet another Transit guy named Leo Cordera, who chatted with me for a while, and told me that he'd be on that same bus on Thursday (since I wasn't riding tomorrow) to ensure that everything was settled.

So, like somebody said once, we shall see what we shall see...