The Bird
The bird sitting on the yellow gravel shoulder was pretty much a bird like any other. Two wings, a beak, no bladder, and all that shit. It though thoughts that other birds think, which were pretty inconsequential really.
It was pretty much just a black fucking bird, with one little extra errand to run.
But that didn’t matter, not at the moment. This crow had been the first to find the fresh kill it was feeding upon. A raccoon, who had gotten its back crushed by a station wagon. The raccoon had run a hundred mad circles, dragging its useless hindquarters, and leaving a trail of blood, shit and viscera behind it. Then it died – fighting ‘til its final breath. Not due to some valiant effort, but because it knew no other way. Imagined no peace wich might come after, fathomed no eternal rest, just died.
And this crow had been the first on the scene. Taking first the eyes of the carcass, not because it found them rewarding or a delicacy in any way, simply because they were easily accessible. This crow then set to work on the soft belly, keeping an eye on the horizon for more of its own kind.
It found neither pleasure nor repulsion in its work, it simply obeyed a drive and did what was needed to keep on living.
It knew neither past, yesterday had failed to imprint during a dreamless sleep, nor tomorrow, it had no way of piecing together the present to estimate the future.
When more of its kind did come, it did not feel comradery, did not feel jealous over the morsels it was denied, simply squawked, and shuffled to make room.
And when a drive deeper and stranger than hunger drew it away from the kill, it didn’t question, didn’t ponder, just lifted its great black wings and flew.
The Boy
When he chose his journal he did so with great care. Something dark, ordinary cover, that was a must. Something with blank pages so that he could sketch when he needed to , and so that he could fit as much, or as little, as he wanted on every page. Something thick, but not insurmountably so. The end was in site, and tyme is oh so finite.
Eventually he found exactly what he needed. He took it home, and up to his room where he wrote these words in fresh red blood, using his grandfathers fountain pen and a scalpel swiped from the biology lab.
“when this ends, so will i” on the inside cover
The Hunger
The crow had flown for 8 days and seven nights, neither eating nor drinking. It was not fully aware of the change coming over it. The transition was too slow, and the hunger too great to think about anything else.
But it had stopped to think. It would have wondered how it knew that it was flying northwest, into the heart of the Bible Belt, would have wondered how it gained the ability to wonder. But all it could think about was the hunger that normal carion could not sate.
Somethingj ust over the horizon drew it on, something just around the bend. It could feel the proximity, like when you’ve been away from the place where you grew up for a really long tyme, and on your way back, when the terrain becomes just familiar enough to give you butterflies in your stomach.
It was that close.
The crow had already passed through the worst of the storms, and it now flew through a cold autumnal drizzle.
Skimming above trees that were mostly barren and black earth marred occasionally by the first traces of the coming winter.
In a blur beneath, the trees stretched like black skeletal fingers pushing up from a dirty white burial shroud, upwards towards the crow as if grasping for it, but falling just short tyme after tyme.
Whatever it was that pulled the bird was old. A force older than the seasons, older than man’s religion, older even than the cold that invaded its feathers and sink into its claes until its very hollow bones ached.
But finally its goal was in sight. A group of four gravestones stood steady in the mist.
Alone, like four mountains on a plain of ploughed earth. It was on the newest of these four stones that the crow landed, shuffled to the side, gave one confused cry, and waited for instinct to move it further.
Her
“I know what they thought. It was stamped on their faces, as plain and as grotesque as the weathered lines of bark that form the screaming faces on the forest trees.
They labeled me, as easily and as readily as you’d label a tuperware container, old turkey, tuna sandwich, egg salad, heart of lamb, still born calf, suicidal, manic depressive, bipolar….
And once they had their labels they had no reason to know me. They put me on the shelf with their other forgotten relics. Shoes that fit too well and now lie in cardboard coffins. Photos taken to replace memories, and then forgotten.
That’s what I am i guess, the photo taken to replace reality and then lost and forgotten anyway.
I’m just thankful that at least one person took the tyme to know me. God, I don’t know how I would have made it this far without him.
He listened, and I believe – I know – that Johnny loved me, and I know that he believed me. I wonder what this will do to him… I wonder what the coming days will turn him in to…
Maybe he’ll know, maybe he’ll figure everything out. Johnny believes in Him after all. And no one else does, not my counselor, not my ‘doctor’, not my parents, not my Father. I’ve been fighting this battle with Him for so long now, and He’s winning. I can’t keep pushing Him out. He’s so cold, and so strong, and his pupils spin like mad black whirlpools when he comes.
Maybe I can fight him off a little longer, and maybe it’ll be enough to find His name.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Friday, September 01, 2006
useless update
This is a more or less useless update, as well as a cross-post. OUCH!
But I wanted to put up the video of the troubador that Iv'e seen a few times on state street. The qaulity isn't that good, i took it with my digital camera, but I think the sound is okay.
I find this guy very interesting, and I hope he sticks around Madison for a while. He seems to fit well on state street.
But I wanted to put up the video of the troubador that Iv'e seen a few times on state street. The qaulity isn't that good, i took it with my digital camera, but I think the sound is okay.
I find this guy very interesting, and I hope he sticks around Madison for a while. He seems to fit well on state street.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Fwds are stupid
Forwards are stupid, and they are normally the bane of my existence. But every now and then one comes along that makes me smile a little. not much, but sometimes a little.... You know, that 3 bean burrito and 4 coronas into the evening smile...
Still, I can't bring my self to email them back out.
But here, in this blog, I can post all things pointless.
So here is a Fwd I received that made me grin like a fat man with mexican food gas...
Are you tired of those sissy "friendship" poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality?
Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.
You will see no cutesy little smiley faces on this card- just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.
1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away fr om me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end.
Still, I can't bring my self to email them back out.
But here, in this blog, I can post all things pointless.
So here is a Fwd I received that made me grin like a fat man with mexican food gas...
Are you tired of those sissy "friendship" poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality?
Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.
You will see no cutesy little smiley faces on this card- just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.
1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away fr om me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end.
Monday, August 14, 2006
the breeze last night
(I can't explain the Johnny thing. If you go here maybe it will make sense. Probably not though)
Breeze
Last night
Johnny was a breeze
hiding all day
while the sun pushed him flat
into the grass
so that he could barely snake
between those green bending blades
gravity's nemesis
he urged them to sway
As the sun moved on
to some western place
Johnny rose
turning slightly
in the lengthening shade
brushing beneath
the apple tree leaves
and starting out
across the lawn
flowing headlong
into the warm red brick
and cooling it some
as he scratched his back
on the red stone
slipping across the cracked
pavement
where
like a jewel
the green moss etched the drive
sauntered onto
the blue porch
through cracked wooden rails
and neglected ferns
now that the day
had left the chipped blue paint
(left over from the kitchen)
letting it gleam again
in the street lights
Johnny curled around
a cigarettes glow
gathering a moments warmth
before twisting smoke
into some reminiscent spectre
(a tiny yearning hand)
and spinning it up
into summers moon
Breeze
Last night
Johnny was a breeze
hiding all day
while the sun pushed him flat
into the grass
so that he could barely snake
between those green bending blades
gravity's nemesis
he urged them to sway
As the sun moved on
to some western place
Johnny rose
turning slightly
in the lengthening shade
brushing beneath
the apple tree leaves
and starting out
across the lawn
flowing headlong
into the warm red brick
and cooling it some
as he scratched his back
on the red stone
slipping across the cracked
pavement
where
like a jewel
the green moss etched the drive
sauntered onto
the blue porch
through cracked wooden rails
and neglected ferns
now that the day
had left the chipped blue paint
(left over from the kitchen)
letting it gleam again
in the street lights
Johnny curled around
a cigarettes glow
gathering a moments warmth
before twisting smoke
into some reminiscent spectre
(a tiny yearning hand)
and spinning it up
into summers moon
Friday, August 04, 2006
another night on state street
Why do people blog?
I've been sort of re-examining my reasons for the infrequent and relatively pointless posts that I put on here.
Am I entertaining people.... um.... not if the number of people who read this blog is any indication.
Here's a shout out to all 5 of ya ;-)
To keep in touch? Nah, I'd just call you up or send you an email if that was my goal.
I think maybe it's an outgrowth of whatever it is that makes people avid journal keepers.
And that I can understand, even if I can't articulate it. I've kept a journal pretty much my entire life. I don't plan on passing it along, I don't share it, and I've never given much more than a passing thought to what will happen to my journals after I'm gone. I write with the notion that they will never be read by anyone other than myself.
Ah, but there's the rub. I know people, even if it's only a few people, will read things that I put online. And I know these things will be there forever... or until that EMP pulse they talked about in Dark Angel....
*** you're no Lara Croft Jessica Alba! you're no Lara Croft***
So blogging is sort of like a journal, that you leave laying out on the table...
open...
during a dinner party....
But that's not why I'm sitting at this lap top typing tonight. That was a passing thought. I was pulling together my memories form last night and thought "why am I doing this again?" and got off on a tangent.
But in the end, I do it because sitting here, sipping my beer, listening to the cicadas and the crickets compete in the cooling summer evening, it's what makes me happy.
Is what I'm about to write a little different than what I'd write down in my journal, knowing no one else would ever read it?
Yes, and that's bad, and not how a person is supposed to write. But if you can live with it, so can I.
Yesterday (Friday) was a damn beautiful day in the city of Madison. The heat wave has broken, and the temperatures are what summer should be. Crawling slowing into the 80s in the morning, maybe flirting with 90 in the early afternoon, and then sliding back down into a cool comfortable evening.
Not the god-forsaken heat wave we endured for over a week. When sitting in the shade hurt. Ashley, in her 10 year old wisdom, told her daycare lady that it's probably because of global warming. Her daycare lady snapped back "no it's not. it's because of polution"
Ashley, in another display of wisdom, one that I think I could learn a lesson from. Didn't argue, even though she disagreed.
We over slept. The cool morning and the later sunrise tricked us into staying in bed too long. So I didn't get to ride my bike in. Instead Sarah and I rode in together.
We are out of bananas, and broke. Seriously broke. Like "we shouldn't buy bananas if we want to go out tonight" broke.
So as I was dawdling (i'm not even sure what that is, but I've been told that I do it frequently) around the house I made up a song to mark my longing for a banana.
"I wish I had a banana, oh I wish I had a banana
If I had a banana life would be complete
I wish I had a banana, oh I wish I had a banana
If I had a banana I'd never know defeat"
"That's not what I thought you were going to say" Sarah noted
"Really? What did you think I was going to say?"
"I thought you'd say 'If i had a banana I'd stick it up my seat'." Sarah is surly in the morning.
"Why in the name of pete would I say that?"
"Because asses and bananas go together like ice cream and cake."
I think that was her way of trying to tell me to quit dawdling and get ready for work already.
We had lunch together. I don't rememeber much of the rest of the day. other than that i didn't feel like working. We found a nice little park and ate our salads on a bench.
Sarah was a little distracted. Due, I think, to the fact that she hadn't eaten anything all day, but had consumed an admirable amount of coffee.
The day passes. Though not with any haste about it.
I picked Sarah up at 3:00, and we slowly got ready for the evening. Ashley was still at the grandparents (she ended up staying a third night even. She's having a good time down there).
I played some video games and we slowly started getting ready. Appearantly... though i didn't see evidence of it, I was dawdling again.
We raid the piggy bank, or in this case it's an A&W Root Beer jug, and head out.
The Harmony Bar:
2201 Atwood Ave.
Madison
608-249-4333
Hours: 11 am-11:45 pm Mon.-Fri., 11 am-8:45 pm Sat. & Sun.
Location: Near East
We've heard about it, but never tried it. There is construction on the side road, so we almost miss it. We park in back, and come in from the side.... like the gangsta's that we are. It's a bit of a dive bar. With obvious regulars that look up through their beards and mugs at us when we come in. We go through the bar to the dining area, take seat and peruse the menu. The pizza's look amazing. With combinations that I didn't even think were possible.
Walknut. on a pizza. for crissakes there's walnut on a pizza! now that is genious. I should note that they had the largest vegetarian selection that I've yet seen in a restuarant. Over half a page of non-meat possibilities. Me.... I like meat.
Sorry cute animals that had to die so that i could eat a burger... but i like meat.
We got cheesburgers. And sweet frak those were good cheeseburgers. 5.00 a piece, but they were the kind that you had to strain to get your mouth around, and dripped when you bit into them. mmmmmmmmm
Oh, and there was a disco ball on the ceiling. I'm pretty sure they have music there often, but not on the night we were there. And I dont' know what kind. Could be country, could be jazz... I don't kow. Should the disco ball have tipped me off one way or the other?
Then to The Candy Shop
1947 Winnebago St
Madison
(608) 244-0744
It's this little place owned, and as far as i've seen, staffed by one lady. The place has all those candies that you thought they didn't make anymore. Dots (the ones on a roll of paper) slow pokes, charleston chews, squirell nut zippers, gummy fruit slices, licorice pipes (red and black), now and laters, atomic fireballs, lemonheads (okay, you still see those around) as well as shaved ice and specialty chocolates from wisconsin chocolatiers.
yes, chocolatier is a real word... i had to look it up though. It's been one of our favorite places to go afterwards if we eat in that neighborhood.
Three or our bucks and you can blissfully slip into a sugar coma in minutes. If you do go, I HIGHLY recommend this littel dark chocolate and peanut butter thing. Freakin' awesome.
State Street:
Parked, walked around a bit. The musicians were out. There was Cat-Fish Stevens (the stee; guitar and cowboy hat guy) and the other steel guitar guy (the one with taps on his shoes), a guy and girl singing old protest songs along with a guitar (her voice was amazing, and she was tiny, but sh kept cracking up when she forgot the words), and the guy who-I -can't-think-of-a-catchy-name-for. He plays either flute or sax, and he always find the places with amazing acoustics. He was playing "The Girl From Ipanema" on his flute, tucked in the shade of the concrete book store on campus, when we walked by.
And new street musician. An honest to goodness troubadour. Or maybe there's a better title, but I'm calling him a troubadour. He wore a wide brimmed beat up hat that was pulled low over his eyes. His beard was grey and his clothes were travel worn. He had a guitar. On his back was a bass drum and a series of cymbols and chimes hooked up to a pedal on his leg. An alien looking contraption held a kazoo, harmonica and pan flute within reach of his mouth.
I didn't get a picture of him, but I managed to get this little audio clip.
I've been sort of re-examining my reasons for the infrequent and relatively pointless posts that I put on here.
Am I entertaining people.... um.... not if the number of people who read this blog is any indication.
Here's a shout out to all 5 of ya ;-)
To keep in touch? Nah, I'd just call you up or send you an email if that was my goal.
I think maybe it's an outgrowth of whatever it is that makes people avid journal keepers.
And that I can understand, even if I can't articulate it. I've kept a journal pretty much my entire life. I don't plan on passing it along, I don't share it, and I've never given much more than a passing thought to what will happen to my journals after I'm gone. I write with the notion that they will never be read by anyone other than myself.
Ah, but there's the rub. I know people, even if it's only a few people, will read things that I put online. And I know these things will be there forever... or until that EMP pulse they talked about in Dark Angel....
*** you're no Lara Croft Jessica Alba! you're no Lara Croft***
So blogging is sort of like a journal, that you leave laying out on the table...
open...
during a dinner party....
But that's not why I'm sitting at this lap top typing tonight. That was a passing thought. I was pulling together my memories form last night and thought "why am I doing this again?" and got off on a tangent.
But in the end, I do it because sitting here, sipping my beer, listening to the cicadas and the crickets compete in the cooling summer evening, it's what makes me happy.
Is what I'm about to write a little different than what I'd write down in my journal, knowing no one else would ever read it?
Yes, and that's bad, and not how a person is supposed to write. But if you can live with it, so can I.
Yesterday (Friday) was a damn beautiful day in the city of Madison. The heat wave has broken, and the temperatures are what summer should be. Crawling slowing into the 80s in the morning, maybe flirting with 90 in the early afternoon, and then sliding back down into a cool comfortable evening.
Not the god-forsaken heat wave we endured for over a week. When sitting in the shade hurt. Ashley, in her 10 year old wisdom, told her daycare lady that it's probably because of global warming. Her daycare lady snapped back "no it's not. it's because of polution"
Ashley, in another display of wisdom, one that I think I could learn a lesson from. Didn't argue, even though she disagreed.
We over slept. The cool morning and the later sunrise tricked us into staying in bed too long. So I didn't get to ride my bike in. Instead Sarah and I rode in together.
We are out of bananas, and broke. Seriously broke. Like "we shouldn't buy bananas if we want to go out tonight" broke.
So as I was dawdling (i'm not even sure what that is, but I've been told that I do it frequently) around the house I made up a song to mark my longing for a banana.
"I wish I had a banana, oh I wish I had a banana
If I had a banana life would be complete
I wish I had a banana, oh I wish I had a banana
If I had a banana I'd never know defeat"
"That's not what I thought you were going to say" Sarah noted
"Really? What did you think I was going to say?"
"I thought you'd say 'If i had a banana I'd stick it up my seat'." Sarah is surly in the morning.
"Why in the name of pete would I say that?"
"Because asses and bananas go together like ice cream and cake."
I think that was her way of trying to tell me to quit dawdling and get ready for work already.
We had lunch together. I don't rememeber much of the rest of the day. other than that i didn't feel like working. We found a nice little park and ate our salads on a bench.
Sarah was a little distracted. Due, I think, to the fact that she hadn't eaten anything all day, but had consumed an admirable amount of coffee.
The day passes. Though not with any haste about it.
I picked Sarah up at 3:00, and we slowly got ready for the evening. Ashley was still at the grandparents (she ended up staying a third night even. She's having a good time down there).
I played some video games and we slowly started getting ready. Appearantly... though i didn't see evidence of it, I was dawdling again.
We raid the piggy bank, or in this case it's an A&W Root Beer jug, and head out.
The Harmony Bar:
2201 Atwood Ave.
Madison
608-249-4333
Hours: 11 am-11:45 pm Mon.-Fri., 11 am-8:45 pm Sat. & Sun.
Location: Near East
We've heard about it, but never tried it. There is construction on the side road, so we almost miss it. We park in back, and come in from the side.... like the gangsta's that we are. It's a bit of a dive bar. With obvious regulars that look up through their beards and mugs at us when we come in. We go through the bar to the dining area, take seat and peruse the menu. The pizza's look amazing. With combinations that I didn't even think were possible.
Walknut. on a pizza. for crissakes there's walnut on a pizza! now that is genious. I should note that they had the largest vegetarian selection that I've yet seen in a restuarant. Over half a page of non-meat possibilities. Me.... I like meat.
Sorry cute animals that had to die so that i could eat a burger... but i like meat.
We got cheesburgers. And sweet frak those were good cheeseburgers. 5.00 a piece, but they were the kind that you had to strain to get your mouth around, and dripped when you bit into them. mmmmmmmmm
Oh, and there was a disco ball on the ceiling. I'm pretty sure they have music there often, but not on the night we were there. And I dont' know what kind. Could be country, could be jazz... I don't kow. Should the disco ball have tipped me off one way or the other?
Then to The Candy Shop
1947 Winnebago St
Madison
(608) 244-0744
It's this little place owned, and as far as i've seen, staffed by one lady. The place has all those candies that you thought they didn't make anymore. Dots (the ones on a roll of paper) slow pokes, charleston chews, squirell nut zippers, gummy fruit slices, licorice pipes (red and black), now and laters, atomic fireballs, lemonheads (okay, you still see those around) as well as shaved ice and specialty chocolates from wisconsin chocolatiers.
yes, chocolatier is a real word... i had to look it up though. It's been one of our favorite places to go afterwards if we eat in that neighborhood.
Three or our bucks and you can blissfully slip into a sugar coma in minutes. If you do go, I HIGHLY recommend this littel dark chocolate and peanut butter thing. Freakin' awesome.
State Street:
Parked, walked around a bit. The musicians were out. There was Cat-Fish Stevens (the stee; guitar and cowboy hat guy) and the other steel guitar guy (the one with taps on his shoes), a guy and girl singing old protest songs along with a guitar (her voice was amazing, and she was tiny, but sh kept cracking up when she forgot the words), and the guy who-I -can't-think-of-a-catchy-name-for. He plays either flute or sax, and he always find the places with amazing acoustics. He was playing "The Girl From Ipanema" on his flute, tucked in the shade of the concrete book store on campus, when we walked by.
And new street musician. An honest to goodness troubadour. Or maybe there's a better title, but I'm calling him a troubadour. He wore a wide brimmed beat up hat that was pulled low over his eyes. His beard was grey and his clothes were travel worn. He had a guitar. On his back was a bass drum and a series of cymbols and chimes hooked up to a pedal on his leg. An alien looking contraption held a kazoo, harmonica and pan flute within reach of his mouth.
I didn't get a picture of him, but I managed to get this little audio clip.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Claim vs Fact
Found this interesting little web site called Claim vs Fact
Try Speakers = Sean Hannity for some good ones.
Try Speakers = Sean Hannity for some good ones.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Sunday, April 23, 2006
State Street in Spring
State street has woken up. When I try to imagine State Street as anything other than an organic system. A living creature on it's own, I fall short. Too much of how it exists can only be paralleled with a living entity.
It sleeps all winter long. Never empty, but slowed. People still walk up and down the frozen sidewalk. At Christmas, shoppers still make their way through the snow and ice. The irish pub still glows warmly and the Church key is still standing room only on Thursday and Friday nights. But the street itself sleeps.
Spring comes, and she wakes up. With all the hungers and yearnings of any creature shrugging off that short nap of body and spirit. Not hibernating, just sleeping.
Today, Sunday afternoon, I dropped off Sarah and Ashley at the opera, I walked down to the Union, and I could feel her life. Under my feet, seeping up through the concrete, up through my legs and into my chest. And I know I wasn't alone. It was on the faces, and in the strides of everyone I passed. Everyone who became, even if for a short time only, part of the creature.
On the corner by the market a man sat beating on an upside down plastic pail with drumsticks. The rhythm was fast and a little tribal. His baseball cap, tipped upside down by his feet, was filling quickly with loose change and a few bills. The beats alternated between sharp staccatos and a hollow lower sound as he used his sneaker to lift one side of the pail away from the ground.
The sound carried down the canyon of glass and concrete. Two blocks away I could still hear him as I passed an old black man holding an empty McDonalds cup.
I think he would have normally been asking for change. But today I was spared my internal struggle, the inability to give him a buck, clashing with the inability to really ignore him. Usually the best I can muster is a half-assed "no, sorry." And in more ways than one, that sums it up.
But today he is swaying back and forth, and singing a wordless song. Not performing, not even making any coherent sound, all he manages to do is warn people of his presence and divert the foot traffic with efficiency that would make any officer of the law proud.
As I pass him, and today he gets to ignore me - a role I'm frankly more comfortable with, I realize he'd singing, or chanting, in rhythm with the plastic pail two blocks back, still echoing down the street.
There is a young woman walking behind me. On her cell phone, as most people walking past are. She is oblivious to my presence, and, as most people with cell phones seem to be, has no idea just how loud she is talking. That's okay. I'm an eaves-dropper by nature.
She's talking about her class on Friday. She is indignant. Someone in her history class put forth the notion that the holocaust didn't happen. And if it did, it wasn't as bad they say.
I never see her face, but I can hear both the frustration and the personal hurt in her voice. As she talks it becomes obvious that in her life, she has never been thrown into the mix with people whose opinions are different than hers.
"How could she just say that?" she demands of the cell phone confidant, and anyone within 30 feet on state street.
"How can she just say something like that. And then when I asked her why, she said it's just her opinion. You can't say something like that, and say it's just your opinion. If you're going to make a statement like that you need to be able to explain it."
There is a pause as someone somewhere tells her something, probably equally as loud, but they must be more than 30 ft away because I can't hear them.
"Well I know people can have opinions. That's not what I'm saying. it's just..." She pauses, on the edge of pushing through something.
"Well, what's the point of even talking about anything if it all comes down to 'that's just my opinion'. It's not vanilla or chocolate ice cream. It's history. If she wants to believe that, fine, but if she's going to say it in class she needs to be able to say more than 'that's just my opinion'.
She turns into a coffee shop, and I pity the people inside. But I'm jealous of her too. She's on that edge. Maybe tomorrow, or maybe a week from now, she'll start to wonder what other "opinions" people cling so tightly to without examination. And maybe she's just around the corner from turning that question on herself. And then the world will open up. And the sun is only the sun because someone told you that it was. The water is blue only because you haven't learned another word for it yet.
In the open area outside State Street brats, where Art Paul Sschlosser usually sings, there's someone new. A tall unshaven, lanky man with a guitar, his young body curved like a question mark. He is bending his head closer to the short brunette in a flowing skirt and a jean jacket with a violin. He is matching his chords to her melody, and as i walk closer they phase in and out of synch. Just as I step passed they find it, and lose it again quickly, but for that brief moment the sound they made was so beautiful I turn my head and nearly stumble.
Radar Dan is sitting with another state street regular. A lady whose name i don't know, but I've seen her often enough. She has large protruding lips and wild frantic eyes that swing wildly though she sits perfectly still. Radar Dan is calling out to girls passing by, "are you a brewers Fan?" he calls out to a girl in a tight pre-faded Brewers t-shirt and pleated skirt. "I think I'm a Brewers fan now" he calls after her as she and her friends grin and almost giggle.
I havee't seen comfort on state street this year, though I've seen him walking all the way over by the belt line.
Down at the Union there is a line for ice cream, and finding a window seat is hard. I need to start keeping my eyes open for outlets. My battery on the iBook is wearing down already.
I find a window seat in the ratskellar, break out my book and laptop, and settle in.
It sleeps all winter long. Never empty, but slowed. People still walk up and down the frozen sidewalk. At Christmas, shoppers still make their way through the snow and ice. The irish pub still glows warmly and the Church key is still standing room only on Thursday and Friday nights. But the street itself sleeps.
Spring comes, and she wakes up. With all the hungers and yearnings of any creature shrugging off that short nap of body and spirit. Not hibernating, just sleeping.
Today, Sunday afternoon, I dropped off Sarah and Ashley at the opera, I walked down to the Union, and I could feel her life. Under my feet, seeping up through the concrete, up through my legs and into my chest. And I know I wasn't alone. It was on the faces, and in the strides of everyone I passed. Everyone who became, even if for a short time only, part of the creature.
On the corner by the market a man sat beating on an upside down plastic pail with drumsticks. The rhythm was fast and a little tribal. His baseball cap, tipped upside down by his feet, was filling quickly with loose change and a few bills. The beats alternated between sharp staccatos and a hollow lower sound as he used his sneaker to lift one side of the pail away from the ground.
The sound carried down the canyon of glass and concrete. Two blocks away I could still hear him as I passed an old black man holding an empty McDonalds cup.
I think he would have normally been asking for change. But today I was spared my internal struggle, the inability to give him a buck, clashing with the inability to really ignore him. Usually the best I can muster is a half-assed "no, sorry." And in more ways than one, that sums it up.
But today he is swaying back and forth, and singing a wordless song. Not performing, not even making any coherent sound, all he manages to do is warn people of his presence and divert the foot traffic with efficiency that would make any officer of the law proud.
As I pass him, and today he gets to ignore me - a role I'm frankly more comfortable with, I realize he'd singing, or chanting, in rhythm with the plastic pail two blocks back, still echoing down the street.
There is a young woman walking behind me. On her cell phone, as most people walking past are. She is oblivious to my presence, and, as most people with cell phones seem to be, has no idea just how loud she is talking. That's okay. I'm an eaves-dropper by nature.
She's talking about her class on Friday. She is indignant. Someone in her history class put forth the notion that the holocaust didn't happen. And if it did, it wasn't as bad they say.
I never see her face, but I can hear both the frustration and the personal hurt in her voice. As she talks it becomes obvious that in her life, she has never been thrown into the mix with people whose opinions are different than hers.
"How could she just say that?" she demands of the cell phone confidant, and anyone within 30 feet on state street.
"How can she just say something like that. And then when I asked her why, she said it's just her opinion. You can't say something like that, and say it's just your opinion. If you're going to make a statement like that you need to be able to explain it."
There is a pause as someone somewhere tells her something, probably equally as loud, but they must be more than 30 ft away because I can't hear them.
"Well I know people can have opinions. That's not what I'm saying. it's just..." She pauses, on the edge of pushing through something.
"Well, what's the point of even talking about anything if it all comes down to 'that's just my opinion'. It's not vanilla or chocolate ice cream. It's history. If she wants to believe that, fine, but if she's going to say it in class she needs to be able to say more than 'that's just my opinion'.
She turns into a coffee shop, and I pity the people inside. But I'm jealous of her too. She's on that edge. Maybe tomorrow, or maybe a week from now, she'll start to wonder what other "opinions" people cling so tightly to without examination. And maybe she's just around the corner from turning that question on herself. And then the world will open up. And the sun is only the sun because someone told you that it was. The water is blue only because you haven't learned another word for it yet.
In the open area outside State Street brats, where Art Paul Sschlosser usually sings, there's someone new. A tall unshaven, lanky man with a guitar, his young body curved like a question mark. He is bending his head closer to the short brunette in a flowing skirt and a jean jacket with a violin. He is matching his chords to her melody, and as i walk closer they phase in and out of synch. Just as I step passed they find it, and lose it again quickly, but for that brief moment the sound they made was so beautiful I turn my head and nearly stumble.
Radar Dan is sitting with another state street regular. A lady whose name i don't know, but I've seen her often enough. She has large protruding lips and wild frantic eyes that swing wildly though she sits perfectly still. Radar Dan is calling out to girls passing by, "are you a brewers Fan?" he calls out to a girl in a tight pre-faded Brewers t-shirt and pleated skirt. "I think I'm a Brewers fan now" he calls after her as she and her friends grin and almost giggle.
I havee't seen comfort on state street this year, though I've seen him walking all the way over by the belt line.
Down at the Union there is a line for ice cream, and finding a window seat is hard. I need to start keeping my eyes open for outlets. My battery on the iBook is wearing down already.
I find a window seat in the ratskellar, break out my book and laptop, and settle in.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Get on Herb (Part II)
Both my wife and I received replies to our letters to Herb Kohl. We got pretty much the exact same thing back. Here it is
"April 6, 2006
Thank you for taking the time to contact me. I value the
input I get from people back home in Wisconsin, and I would like
to take this opportunity to address your concerns.
The recent revelation that the President authorized the
National Security Agency (NSA) to monitor telephone calls and e-
mails of United States citizens without obtaining a warrant or court
order raises important legal questions. The Bush administration
argues that it has the legal authority, both under the Authorization
to Use Military Force in Afghanistan and the President's inherent
powers as Commander in Chief, to order the warrantless electronic
surveillance of U.S. citizens and others inside the country.
However, a great number of legal experts in this area disagree.
I strongly believe that the President, Congress, and the
courts all share a common goal: to protect our country. If terrorists
are operating in this country, or people in this country are
communicating with terrorists, we must give our government the
tools it needs to protect the American people. However, security,
the rule of law, and the protection of civil liberties are not mutually
exclusive concepts; we can have all three. If our laws are
inadequate, they should be changed, but they should never be
ignored. In the meantime, Congress must conduct vigorous
oversight of the executive branch, including the President's
authorization of the NSA warrantless surveillance program, to
ensure that the rights of innocent Americans are not being violated.
As you know, on March 13, 2006, Senator Russ Feingold
(D-WI) introduced S. Res. 398, a resolution to censure President
George W. Bush. Censure is a formal statement of disapproval that
carries no penalty, aside from the condemnation itself. Senator
Feingold argues that President Bush violated the Constitution and
the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act of 1978 (FISA) by
approving domestic wiretapping of American citizens without
seeking a court order.
This resolution has been referred to the Judiciary
Committee, of which I am a member. An initial hearing on
censure was held on March 31, 2006. In addition, the Committee is
conducting other hearings in the broader issue of the NSA
warrantless surveillance program. I remain committed to this
process, and to hearing both sides of the issue. It would be
inappropriate for me to make premature judgments, but I will listen
carefully as this process unfolds and the investigation into the
Administration's actions moves forward.
Again, thank you for taking the time to contact me. You
can be sure I will keep your thoughts in mind as Congress
continues to consider this very important issue. Please do not
hesitate to contact me again if I may be of any further assistance.
Sincerely,
Herb Kohl
U.S. Senator"
"April 6, 2006
Thank you for taking the time to contact me. I value the
input I get from people back home in Wisconsin, and I would like
to take this opportunity to address your concerns.
The recent revelation that the President authorized the
National Security Agency (NSA) to monitor telephone calls and e-
mails of United States citizens without obtaining a warrant or court
order raises important legal questions. The Bush administration
argues that it has the legal authority, both under the Authorization
to Use Military Force in Afghanistan and the President's inherent
powers as Commander in Chief, to order the warrantless electronic
surveillance of U.S. citizens and others inside the country.
However, a great number of legal experts in this area disagree.
I strongly believe that the President, Congress, and the
courts all share a common goal: to protect our country. If terrorists
are operating in this country, or people in this country are
communicating with terrorists, we must give our government the
tools it needs to protect the American people. However, security,
the rule of law, and the protection of civil liberties are not mutually
exclusive concepts; we can have all three. If our laws are
inadequate, they should be changed, but they should never be
ignored. In the meantime, Congress must conduct vigorous
oversight of the executive branch, including the President's
authorization of the NSA warrantless surveillance program, to
ensure that the rights of innocent Americans are not being violated.
As you know, on March 13, 2006, Senator Russ Feingold
(D-WI) introduced S. Res. 398, a resolution to censure President
George W. Bush. Censure is a formal statement of disapproval that
carries no penalty, aside from the condemnation itself. Senator
Feingold argues that President Bush violated the Constitution and
the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act of 1978 (FISA) by
approving domestic wiretapping of American citizens without
seeking a court order.
This resolution has been referred to the Judiciary
Committee, of which I am a member. An initial hearing on
censure was held on March 31, 2006. In addition, the Committee is
conducting other hearings in the broader issue of the NSA
warrantless surveillance program. I remain committed to this
process, and to hearing both sides of the issue. It would be
inappropriate for me to make premature judgments, but I will listen
carefully as this process unfolds and the investigation into the
Administration's actions moves forward.
Again, thank you for taking the time to contact me. You
can be sure I will keep your thoughts in mind as Congress
continues to consider this very important issue. Please do not
hesitate to contact me again if I may be of any further assistance.
Sincerely,
Herb Kohl
U.S. Senator"
Sunday, April 09, 2006
That one lady...
Sometimes, I just can’t understand what is going through peoples minds. I like to think that people are basically good, and that we all operate on more or less the save wave-length, but then something happens to make me wonder. Someone will do something to utterly alien to my way of thinking (yes, that’s more than a little egocentric) that I really wonder what the hell is going through their minds.
Take for instance yesterday. We were at the children’s expo at the Overture center. We are down in the little stage area on the first floor about to watch a teacher of my daughters sing songs about art. The place is crawling with kids, the ration is at least 4 kids to every adult. My wife and I tell our daughter to go find a seat, and we stand at the back of the room along the wall. Partly because we don’t want to take a seat that a kid could use, partly because our daughter doesn’t need someone right next to her anymore, but mostly because we weren’t really anticipating the show, and wanted to be as far from the noise as possible.
So here’s our view of the room
Now see that lady sitting in the first row of chairs, farthest to the right? And see that laminated handicap sign lying on the ground? Let me tell you how those pieces of the picture ended up where they are.
The two handicap signs were on the two chairs on the farthest right. The Lady comes in with her two kids, and without shame, without pausing, moves the two signs to one seat. Thus opening two seats for her kids. The rest of the row was full. So she stood off to the side. Before the show started, the kids were getting antsy, and one of her kids started squirming around, and finally knocked the signs off the seat altogether.
Again, without pausing, without even looking around to see if anyone would notice, she just sat down in the now “un-handicapped” seat.
What the hell? I mean seriously, what is going through a persons mind at that point? On some level she must be justifying it.
Does she think “oh, handicap people only need one seat. And I’ve got two kids, so we’ll just use one of the seats, and I’ll stand over here,” and then when her kid moves the sign “oh, I guess that isn’t reserved for the handicap, I must have been mistaken earlier. That chair is obviously open for anyone, and conveniently near my children. I shouldn’t let it go to waste”
Honestly, if you are reading this, and you think you know why she did what she did (beyond the obvious “she wanted to sit there.”) please tell me.
Take for instance yesterday. We were at the children’s expo at the Overture center. We are down in the little stage area on the first floor about to watch a teacher of my daughters sing songs about art. The place is crawling with kids, the ration is at least 4 kids to every adult. My wife and I tell our daughter to go find a seat, and we stand at the back of the room along the wall. Partly because we don’t want to take a seat that a kid could use, partly because our daughter doesn’t need someone right next to her anymore, but mostly because we weren’t really anticipating the show, and wanted to be as far from the noise as possible.
So here’s our view of the room
Now see that lady sitting in the first row of chairs, farthest to the right? And see that laminated handicap sign lying on the ground? Let me tell you how those pieces of the picture ended up where they are.
The two handicap signs were on the two chairs on the farthest right. The Lady comes in with her two kids, and without shame, without pausing, moves the two signs to one seat. Thus opening two seats for her kids. The rest of the row was full. So she stood off to the side. Before the show started, the kids were getting antsy, and one of her kids started squirming around, and finally knocked the signs off the seat altogether.
Again, without pausing, without even looking around to see if anyone would notice, she just sat down in the now “un-handicapped” seat.
What the hell? I mean seriously, what is going through a persons mind at that point? On some level she must be justifying it.
Does she think “oh, handicap people only need one seat. And I’ve got two kids, so we’ll just use one of the seats, and I’ll stand over here,” and then when her kid moves the sign “oh, I guess that isn’t reserved for the handicap, I must have been mistaken earlier. That chair is obviously open for anyone, and conveniently near my children. I shouldn’t let it go to waste”
Honestly, if you are reading this, and you think you know why she did what she did (beyond the obvious “she wanted to sit there.”) please tell me.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Remember
"Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know
tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! So I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!"
-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, April 3rd 1968, in Memphis, his last sermon.
tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! So I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!"
-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, April 3rd 1968, in Memphis, his last sermon.
How do you remember something that you weren't even alive for? You read about it, you imagine it, you let it rattle around in your thick skull for a little bit. But how do you really remember it?
How does a generation ever escape the mistakes of its predecessors? How will we ever learn the lessons of those that failed before us?
Our memory is short, and sometimes I fear that every hard fought victory is forgotten as the victors grow old and and their children gather pride and contempt for anything they have not discovered themselves.
We try, and we try, and we fail.
Yet there are some things that we cannot afford to forget
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Privately Purchased Body Armor Banned
This story caught my attention. I try really hard not to just take what I hear at face value, but to go out and do a little research of my own too. And this is a case where I'm glad that I did. There are two sides to this story. And either the Liberal voices that I usually trust don't know the whole story, or they aren't telling it. Of course the neo-con sources that I grudgingly check aren't even acknowledging that it exists. I think that this article gives both sides. Still, if this is a topic that concerns you, you should do some research on this latest development.
In short, the more affordable Body Armor isn't as safe. And from what I found the military has made improvements in supplying troops with body armor. However, this is a problem that the military needs to take some responsibility for creating. There were legitimate shortages earlier on, and those shortages are why family and friends looked to find a way to buy the body armor on their own. And if there are companies selling body armor at a lesser price, naturally people will choose the cheaper armor over none at all.
In the end it's one of the issues that I'm a bit reserved about. It seems to me to be a complicated mess.
Army Bans the Use of Privately Purchased Body Armor
Many soldiers in Iraq bought protective gear they said the military wasn't providing. But the top brass says it may be inadequate.
From the Associated Press
March 31, 2006
WASHINGTON — Soldiers will no longer be allowed to wear body armor that was not issued by the military, Army officials said Thursday.
The order was prompted by concern that soldiers or their families were buying inadequate or untested armor from private companies, including the Dragon Skin gear made by Fresno-based Pinnacle Armor Inc., the Army officials said.
"We're very concerned that people are spending their hard-earned money on something that doesn't provide the level of protection that the Army requires people to wear. So they're, frankly, wasting their money on substandard stuff," said Col. Thomas Spoehr, director of materiel for the Army.
Murray Neal, chief executive of Pinnacle, said he hadn't seen the directive.
"We know of no reason the Army may have to justify this action," Neal said. "On the surface, this looks to be another of many attempts by the Army to cover up the billions of dollars spent on ineffective body armor systems which they continue to try quick fixes on to no avail."
Nathaniel R. Helms, editor of the Soldiers for the Truth online magazine DefenseWatch, said he already had received a number of e-mails from soldiers complaining about the policy.
"Outrageously we've seen that [soldiers] haven't been getting what they need in terms of equipment and body armor," said Sen. Christopher J. Dodd (D-Conn.), who wrote legislation to provide reimbursement to troops for equipment purchases. "That's totally unacceptable, and why this directive by the Pentagon needs to be scrutinized in much greater detail."
Paul Rieckhoff, executive director of Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America, said, "I don't think the Army is wrong by doing this, because the Army has to ensure some level of quality."
But, Rieckhoff said, the military is partially to blame for the problem because it took too long to get soldiers the armor they needed. "This is the monster they made," he said.
Early in the Iraq war, soldiers and their families were spending hundreds or even thousands of dollars on protective gear that they said the military was not providing.
In January, an unreleased Pentagon study found that side armor could have saved dozens of U.S. lives in Iraq, prompting the Army and Marine Corps to order ceramic body armor plates to be shipped to troops this year.
The Army ban covers all commercial armor. It refers specifically to Pinnacle's armor.
"In its current state of development, Dragon Skin's capabilities do not meet Army requirements," the Army order says, and it "has not been certified to protect against several small-arms threats that the military is encountering in Iraq and Afghanistan."
The Marine Corps has not issued a similar directive, but Marines are "encouraged to wear Marine Corps-issued body armor since this armor has been tested to meet fleet standards," spokesman Bruce Scott said.
Military officials have acknowledged that some troops — often National Guardsmen or reservists — went to war with lesser-quality protective gear than other soldiers.
But now, Spoehr said, "we can categorically say that whatever you're going to buy isn't as good as what you're going to get" from the military.
Friday, March 31, 2006
A forward....
I hate forwards. And I don't send them on to other people when I get them. But some are decent enough that I don't want to just delete them and never see them again. And since no one reads this anyway, it's safe to post them here, right?
What You Need To Believe To Be A Republican:
Saddam was a good guy when Reagan armed him, a bad guy when Bush's daddy made war on him, a good guy when Cheney and Rumsfeld did business with him, and a bad guy when Bush couldn't find Bin Laden.
Jesus loves you, and shares your hatred of homosexuals, Arabs, and Hillary Clinton.
Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist, but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.
The United States should get out of the United Nations, and our highest national priority is enforcing U.N. resolutions against Iraq.
A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body, but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind without regulation.
The best way to improve military morale is to praise the troops in speeches, while slashing veterans' benefits and combat pay.
If condoms are kept out of schools, adolescents won't have sex.
A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle and antagonize our long-time allies, then demand their cooperation and money.
Providing health care to all Iraqis is sound policy, but providing health care to all Americans is socialism; HMOs and insurance companies have the best interests of the public at heart.
Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science, but creationism should be taught in schools.
A president lying about an extramarital affair is an impeachable offense, but a president lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.
Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.
The public has a right to know about Hillary's cattle trades, but George Bush's and Dick Cheney's driving records are none of our business.
Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you're a conservative radio host. Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.
Supporting "Executive Privilege" is imperative for every Republican ever born, who will be born or who might be born (in perpetuity).
What Bill Clinton did in the 1960s is of vital national interest, but what Bush did in the '80s is irrelevant.
There's nothing wrong with supporting drunken hunters who shoot their friends and blaming the friends for looking too much like quail.
Let's not get stuck with more Republicans in '06 and '08: Friends don't let friends vote Republican!
What You Need To Believe To Be A Republican:
Saddam was a good guy when Reagan armed him, a bad guy when Bush's daddy made war on him, a good guy when Cheney and Rumsfeld did business with him, and a bad guy when Bush couldn't find Bin Laden.
Jesus loves you, and shares your hatred of homosexuals, Arabs, and Hillary Clinton.
Trade with Cuba is wrong because the country is Communist, but trade with China and Vietnam is vital to a spirit of international harmony.
The United States should get out of the United Nations, and our highest national priority is enforcing U.N. resolutions against Iraq.
A woman can't be trusted with decisions about her own body, but multi-national corporations can make decisions affecting all mankind without regulation.
The best way to improve military morale is to praise the troops in speeches, while slashing veterans' benefits and combat pay.
If condoms are kept out of schools, adolescents won't have sex.
A good way to fight terrorism is to belittle and antagonize our long-time allies, then demand their cooperation and money.
Providing health care to all Iraqis is sound policy, but providing health care to all Americans is socialism; HMOs and insurance companies have the best interests of the public at heart.
Global warming and tobacco's link to cancer are junk science, but creationism should be taught in schools.
A president lying about an extramarital affair is an impeachable offense, but a president lying to enlist support for a war in which thousands die is solid defense policy.
Government should limit itself to the powers named in the Constitution, which include banning gay marriages and censoring the Internet.
The public has a right to know about Hillary's cattle trades, but George Bush's and Dick Cheney's driving records are none of our business.
Being a drug addict is a moral failing and a crime, unless you're a conservative radio host. Then it's an illness and you need our prayers for your recovery.
Supporting "Executive Privilege" is imperative for every Republican ever born, who will be born or who might be born (in perpetuity).
What Bill Clinton did in the 1960s is of vital national interest, but what Bush did in the '80s is irrelevant.
There's nothing wrong with supporting drunken hunters who shoot their friends and blaming the friends for looking too much like quail.
Let's not get stuck with more Republicans in '06 and '08: Friends don't let friends vote Republican!
This article strikes me as important. It feels like a corner is being turned, and I don't think it's a good road we're taking. By all means, read the full article yourself, but here a couple things that I pulled out.
1) " U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice conceded Friday that the United States probably has made thousands of 'tactical errors' in Iraq and elsewhere".
I've never heard that sort of admission before. Is that a new stance? I'm more than a little curious now to see if that statement is ever repeated in the U.S.
2) "...but said it will be judged by its larger aims of peace and democracy in the Middle East."
Is this the "you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet" argument? I thought that speech was reserved for idealogical villians.
3) "Rice replied that leaders would be "brain-dead" if they did not absorb the lessons of their times."
That doesn't even really need comment, does it?
4) "But when you look back in history, what will be judged will be, did you make the right strategic decisions."
Something about that statement just gives me the shivers. Partly that it's the break some eggs to make an omelet thing again. But on a bigger scale, the notion that you can't be judged by your peers but only by the long lense of history is disturbing. It can be used to justify just about anything. It's a mindset adopted by some of the worst individuals that the human cesspool has ever birthed.
5) "She said she remains firmly convinced that it was the right strategic decision to remove Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq three years ago, and that it required an invasion to do it. Saddam 'wasn't going anywhere without military intervention,' she said."
Really? I looked back over some of the speeches from that time, and I know that the speeches that we the public received are different than the ones given on the senate floors, or behind closed doors, but I couldn't find anything about going into Iraq to remove Suddam. I found references to the notion that an invasion was NOT inevitable as long as Suddam cooperated with inspectors. I found the "we don't want the smoking gun to be a mushroom cloud" quote at least twice.
6) "'People have the right to protest. That's what democracy is all about,' Rice told reporters at a British aerospace plant. 'I would say to those who wish to protest, by all means.'."
As long as we don't do it too loudly, and as long as it we keep it within the "free speech zones", nowhere near a political rally, and not within view of the current administration. And I think Denise Grier would find that comment interesting (go ahead and google her)
Anti-war demonstrations greet Rice during visit to Britain
Anne Gearan
Canadian Press
Friday, March 31, 2006
BLACKBURN, England (AP) - U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice conceded Friday that the United States probably has made thousands of "tactical errors" in Iraq and elsewhere, but said it will be judged by its larger aims of peace and democracy in the Middle East.
The U.S. diplomat met loud anti-war protests in the streets and skeptical questions about U.S. involvement in Iraq at a foreign policy salon Friday, including one about whether Washington had learned from its "mistakes over the past three years."
Rice replied that leaders would be "brain-dead" if they did not absorb the lessons of their times.
"I know we've made tactical errors, thousands of them I'm sure," Rice told an audience gathered by the British foreign policy think tank Chatham House. "But when you look back in history, what will be judged will be, did you make the right strategic decisions."
She said she remains firmly convinced that it was the right strategic decision to remove Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq three years ago, and that it required an invasion to do it.
Saddam "wasn't going anywhere without military intervention," she said.
Demonstrators organized marches to call America's top diplomat a war criminal and human-rights abuser as she joined British Foreign Secretary Jack Straw on a tour of his adopted northern England working-class home.
Rice said she was not surprised by the depth of opposition in Britain, President Bush's strongest ally in Iraq, to the war and other American policies.
"I've seen it in every city I've visited in the United States," Rice said earlier Friday. "People have strong views."
"People have the right to protest. That's what democracy is all about," Rice told reporters at a British aerospace plant. "I would say to those who wish to protest, by all means."
Rice also said the United States was ready to send humanitarian assistance to Iran following deadly earthquakes there on Friday, but she made it clear there would be no accompanying U.S. diplomatic overture to Tehran.
Straw, Rice's host for her two-day visit, said Britain would send a condolence letter to the Tehran government.
The United States has no diplomatic relations with Iran.
At a high school visited by Rice and Straw, about 200 protesters stood across the street with banners and signs, chanting "Condoleezza Rice, Go Home!" One demonstrator held a yellow hand-lettered sign that read, How Many Lives Per Gallon?
Rice toured a high-school math class and visited Ewood Park, the home stadium of Straw's favoured soccer team, Blackburn Rovers.
About 50 of Pleckgate School's students "skived off" their classes Friday to protest Rice's visit, said student Jabbar Khan, 16, who shook Rice's hand as she entered.
The protests awaiting Rice on Friday were the reverse of the warm reception she received last fall when Straw accompanied her on a down-home tour of her native Alabama. Then, elderly white women lined up to shake the hand of a black native daughter made good, football fans cheered and the tantalizing possibility of a run for president - something she discounts - surrounded Rice.
"It's one thing to say this is a cultural visit, but others see it as a council of war," said Carmel Brown, an anti-war protester in Liverpool.
Rice's planned visit to a mosque in Blackburn was cancelled Thursday after anti-war protesters planned to heckle her during prayer time, a mosque leader said. A prominent poet and actress pulled out of planned appearances at a Liverpool Philharmonic concert Rice was attending Friday in protest of U.S. policies.
Straw's Blackburn district has the country's third highest Muslim population. Rice also is to meet Muslim leaders and the town's mayor, Ugandan immigrant Yusuf Jan-Virmani, on Saturday.
Straw's visit to Alabama was intended to show a different side of America to a visiting foreign leader and friend. Many people he met in Alabama, and a few who introduced him at events, had never heard of the British diplomat.
Rice is far better known, as the two days of protests planned over U.S. policies in Iraq, Iran and the war on terrorism attest.
Opponents of the Iraq war set up a website, condiwatch.co.uk, that listed times and locations for marches and gatherings. Protesters planned to distribute T-shirts that read, "Fab Four, Not War," in reference to Liverpool's most famous export, The Beatles.
The Canadian Press 2006
Copyright 2006 CanWest Interactive, a division of CanWest MediaWorks Publications, Inc.. All rights reserved.
1) " U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice conceded Friday that the United States probably has made thousands of 'tactical errors' in Iraq and elsewhere".
I've never heard that sort of admission before. Is that a new stance? I'm more than a little curious now to see if that statement is ever repeated in the U.S.
2) "...but said it will be judged by its larger aims of peace and democracy in the Middle East."
Is this the "you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet" argument? I thought that speech was reserved for idealogical villians.
3) "Rice replied that leaders would be "brain-dead" if they did not absorb the lessons of their times."
That doesn't even really need comment, does it?
4) "But when you look back in history, what will be judged will be, did you make the right strategic decisions."
Something about that statement just gives me the shivers. Partly that it's the break some eggs to make an omelet thing again. But on a bigger scale, the notion that you can't be judged by your peers but only by the long lense of history is disturbing. It can be used to justify just about anything. It's a mindset adopted by some of the worst individuals that the human cesspool has ever birthed.
5) "She said she remains firmly convinced that it was the right strategic decision to remove Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq three years ago, and that it required an invasion to do it. Saddam 'wasn't going anywhere without military intervention,' she said."
Really? I looked back over some of the speeches from that time, and I know that the speeches that we the public received are different than the ones given on the senate floors, or behind closed doors, but I couldn't find anything about going into Iraq to remove Suddam. I found references to the notion that an invasion was NOT inevitable as long as Suddam cooperated with inspectors. I found the "we don't want the smoking gun to be a mushroom cloud" quote at least twice.
6) "'People have the right to protest. That's what democracy is all about,' Rice told reporters at a British aerospace plant. 'I would say to those who wish to protest, by all means.'."
As long as we don't do it too loudly, and as long as it we keep it within the "free speech zones", nowhere near a political rally, and not within view of the current administration. And I think Denise Grier would find that comment interesting (go ahead and google her)
Anti-war demonstrations greet Rice during visit to Britain
Anne Gearan
Canadian Press
Friday, March 31, 2006
BLACKBURN, England (AP) - U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice conceded Friday that the United States probably has made thousands of "tactical errors" in Iraq and elsewhere, but said it will be judged by its larger aims of peace and democracy in the Middle East.
The U.S. diplomat met loud anti-war protests in the streets and skeptical questions about U.S. involvement in Iraq at a foreign policy salon Friday, including one about whether Washington had learned from its "mistakes over the past three years."
Rice replied that leaders would be "brain-dead" if they did not absorb the lessons of their times.
"I know we've made tactical errors, thousands of them I'm sure," Rice told an audience gathered by the British foreign policy think tank Chatham House. "But when you look back in history, what will be judged will be, did you make the right strategic decisions."
She said she remains firmly convinced that it was the right strategic decision to remove Saddam Hussein from power in Iraq three years ago, and that it required an invasion to do it.
Saddam "wasn't going anywhere without military intervention," she said.
Demonstrators organized marches to call America's top diplomat a war criminal and human-rights abuser as she joined British Foreign Secretary Jack Straw on a tour of his adopted northern England working-class home.
Rice said she was not surprised by the depth of opposition in Britain, President Bush's strongest ally in Iraq, to the war and other American policies.
"I've seen it in every city I've visited in the United States," Rice said earlier Friday. "People have strong views."
"People have the right to protest. That's what democracy is all about," Rice told reporters at a British aerospace plant. "I would say to those who wish to protest, by all means."
Rice also said the United States was ready to send humanitarian assistance to Iran following deadly earthquakes there on Friday, but she made it clear there would be no accompanying U.S. diplomatic overture to Tehran.
Straw, Rice's host for her two-day visit, said Britain would send a condolence letter to the Tehran government.
The United States has no diplomatic relations with Iran.
At a high school visited by Rice and Straw, about 200 protesters stood across the street with banners and signs, chanting "Condoleezza Rice, Go Home!" One demonstrator held a yellow hand-lettered sign that read, How Many Lives Per Gallon?
Rice toured a high-school math class and visited Ewood Park, the home stadium of Straw's favoured soccer team, Blackburn Rovers.
About 50 of Pleckgate School's students "skived off" their classes Friday to protest Rice's visit, said student Jabbar Khan, 16, who shook Rice's hand as she entered.
The protests awaiting Rice on Friday were the reverse of the warm reception she received last fall when Straw accompanied her on a down-home tour of her native Alabama. Then, elderly white women lined up to shake the hand of a black native daughter made good, football fans cheered and the tantalizing possibility of a run for president - something she discounts - surrounded Rice.
"It's one thing to say this is a cultural visit, but others see it as a council of war," said Carmel Brown, an anti-war protester in Liverpool.
Rice's planned visit to a mosque in Blackburn was cancelled Thursday after anti-war protesters planned to heckle her during prayer time, a mosque leader said. A prominent poet and actress pulled out of planned appearances at a Liverpool Philharmonic concert Rice was attending Friday in protest of U.S. policies.
Straw's Blackburn district has the country's third highest Muslim population. Rice also is to meet Muslim leaders and the town's mayor, Ugandan immigrant Yusuf Jan-Virmani, on Saturday.
Straw's visit to Alabama was intended to show a different side of America to a visiting foreign leader and friend. Many people he met in Alabama, and a few who introduced him at events, had never heard of the British diplomat.
Rice is far better known, as the two days of protests planned over U.S. policies in Iraq, Iran and the war on terrorism attest.
Opponents of the Iraq war set up a website, condiwatch.co.uk, that listed times and locations for marches and gatherings. Protesters planned to distribute T-shirts that read, "Fab Four, Not War," in reference to Liverpool's most famous export, The Beatles.
The Canadian Press 2006
Copyright 2006 CanWest Interactive, a division of CanWest MediaWorks Publications, Inc.. All rights reserved.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Get on Herb
Both Sarah and I have written to Herb Kohl.
He needs to feel some pressure right now.
Here's Sarah's letter,
Dear Senator Kohl,
I wanted to let you know that I am disappointed that you are not backing Senator Feingold on his call to censure President Bush. I have voted for you in the past, but I don't feel that I can again unless I fell that you are representing the people on this matter. It seems obvious that the President broke a law, and he should be held responsible. I am not talking about an impeachment or an attempt to take him out of office, simply the censure that Senator Feingold called for.
It seems fair, and from all I have heard from my fellow Wisconsinites, it is what the people want. Please stand behind Senator Feingold and the people of Wisconsin and this country. I would be happy to continue to give you my vote if I feel that you are listening to your constituents. Thank you for your time and consideration,
Sarah
Here's mine
Dear Senator Kohl,
As a constituent I would ask that you please support the call to censure President Bush. I find it disturbing that on this issue the opinion of the public can be so overwhelmingly in favor of censure, and yet you have not represented this desire fairly.
In the past I have felt that your voting record has not matched the general desires of your constituency.
For me, this is the deal breaker. If the people of Wisconsin are sending a clear message that they want to see the President Censured, and yet you do not back this move, I will not be able to vote for you in the coming elections.
Thank you for your time and consideration,
Christopher
You can write him online at http://kohl.senate.gov/
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