Why Do They Hate Us?

At OpinionJournal.com, Peggy Noonan examines the terrorist threat to Newark. Her analysis:

  • Because the Port of Newark is an easy target:

    He [Tony Soprano] comes across a documentary about the potential use by terrorists of the nearby Port of Newark. The Port of Newark, the biggest port on the eastern seaboard, receives millions of ship containers each year; the feds say they can check only 2%; terrorists could easily smuggle in a dirty nuke.

    Tony becomes alarmed. He knows Port Newark. The mob is there, his people are there. It is corrupt, lazy, badly run. Suddenly he realizes there’s nothing between his home and kaboom but a chain-link fence and a mall.

  • Because the Port of Newark is an attractive target:

    Port Newark is just beyond the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor. A hit on Newark would cause panic in al Qaeda’s great target, New York–stock market crash, terror in the streets. A hit on Port Newark would deal a blow rich in practical and symbolic terms.

  • Because New Jersey is becoming the center, in America, of the movement for cloning:

    But there’s more and for me it’s more central, and the reason my pings began. New Jersey is becoming the center, in America, of the movement for cloning. Its governor just signed the most liberal cloning bill in the United States. There is money in cloning research, and status: We’re the coming intellectual center of science! We’re not just the Meadowlands and the mob, we’re Princeton and Einstein! There is greater suburban affluence to be gained, and higher tax revenues for politicians to spend on community centers built through no-bid contracts by big contributors. The Robert Torricelli Psychotherapy Institute for the Differently Abled. The Jim McGreevey Carpal Tunnel Trauma Research Facility.

Cripes, spare me further “Why do they hate us?” projection of whatever bugaboos the commentator has about America in the discussion of terrorism. Who cares? Don’t solve the projected problem, eliminate those who would blow up Newark for whatever reason.

And prevent Peggy Noonan from being cloned, ever. For her sake, and for the sake of generations of future Americans who read conservative commentators.

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Steve Chapman Speaks Word to Power

Steve Chapman, in today’s Chicago Tribune says (registration required):

Some newcomers are planning to move to Chicago, and the invasion sounds as though it will be a grim affair. “They’re a negative for the city,” said one fearful alderman. They’re guilty of “treating people wrong,” said an angry minister. They exploit a “slave mentality,” charged another clergyman.

You’d think Genghis Khan was riding in our direction, with his marauding hordes in tow. In fact, the would-be migrants are from Wal-Mart, whose chief crime is to become one of the most successful companies in American history. All the giant retailer is threatening to bring is a few hundred jobs and a lot of inexpensive products. But critics want the City Council to block the project.

Bobo opponents want to block it because it’s Wal-Mart. But it’s a good company, an employer, and a seller of things people want to buy. Get off the anti-capitalist chic and let it in.

Just don’t let the local government throw people out of their homes or provide tax breaks.

(Originally seen on Daniel Drezner because I must be slow today getting to my Chicagoland papers.)

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The Worst Part About 13 Going on 30

The worst part of the movie 13 Going on 30, which I only attended because I love my beautiful wife very much and she’s a great Jennifer Garner fan, is that they got 1987 so very wrong.

For those of you who don’t know, which I pray is most of you, the main character is 13 in 1987 who wishes she were 30. The plot is bang! She is 30, and it’s 2004, and she doesn’t remember anything between now and then. Now that we have that pesky plot out of the way, I can lay into what was really wrong.

Take, for example, the three musical touchstones from the 1980s that reappear throughout the movie:

  • “Love is a Battlefield” by Pat Benatar. The 13 year old in 1987 knows this song by heart. This song was released in 1983 on Live From Earth. It was a very big deal back then, but by 1987, it wasn’t popular.
  • “Thriller” by Michael Jackson. Again, since this album was released in 1982, when the main character would have been 8 years old. By 1987, Bad had been released, redefining Michael Jackson as “tougher” or something. Regardless, the youth of 1987 thought Michael Jackson was gay, werd, and no one would have thought to imitate the dance from the video, which was not getting that much airplay on MTV in 1987.
  • Worst of all, the main character has a crush on Rick Springfield, and she apparently kisses her middle school love interest to the song “Jessie’s Girl”, which came from 1981’s Working Class Dog and didn’t get airplay that a person born in 1974 would have remembered until the 1980s stations started cropping up around the turn of the century.

Those are just the musical misfires in the movie. In 1987, at her thirteenth birthday party, her best friend builds her a dollhouse which contains a stereo and all the record albums she could ever want. Jeez, Louise, record albums? As a dream of a middle schooler in 1987? Audio cassettes had supplanted records by then. Memo to other inept writers: Betamax was gone by then, but laser discs were still struggling along.

Please, spare me the constant Rick Springfield crush notes. In 1987, a girl would more likely have a crush on Jon Bon Jovi or George Michael or Prince.

Even the subtleties of this faux 1987 grate. The love interest shows up in a Trans Am, with long hair over his ears. Teased long hair, okay; mullet, possible. Short, gelled spikes? That was cool in 1987. But the heartthrob wears hair about five years out of style.

I wouldn’t be so agitated by it if they had not specifically set it, within the first minutes of the movie, in 1987. Sure, as we get older, time periods expand so that what’s hip in a particular year is not as important as whether we like the artist or not. Quick, Matchbox 20 had their first hit….Oh, sometime in the mid-to-late 1990s, wot? But when you’re 13 (or 15, as I was in 1987), each individual year and the particulars of fashion are very important, and their impressed into our psyches.

Which is why the authenticity of this movie really did not impress me. It’s obvious that some older writers reached into the grab-bag of the i980s and came out with a couple handfuls of things they might have remembered. Hey, it’s all good retro stuff, huh? Unfortunately, they risked offending, yes, offending a major set of Generation X who lived those years at that age. Or maybe just me.

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Brian and the Argotnots

Today, friends and readers, I coin for your amusement a term in the testers’ cant, a secret language spoken to confound developers. Just as developers confound us with talk of materialized views, mainClasses, and environmental PATH variables (all of which we testers know to be fictional), we testers have devised our own secret language with words and terms we can use to explain problems and then, with exaggerated patience and a healthy eye-rolling, define those terms for the silly developers who really don’t know anything about testing.

Today’s term: a zool.

Zool: a row in a database, added via an INSERT command, or rendered in the presentation layer (client application or Web interface) that is expected to contain information, but because of defective behavior of the software does not.

Used in context: "There is no data, only zool."

Try to use it in a sentence today. Extra credit goes to those who use it but don’t actually work in IT.

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Book Review: Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck (1935)

As some of you know, I’ve been reading Steinbeck on and off for the last couple of years (Of Mice and Men review); what I said then holds true. Steinbeck’s as accessible and as easy to read as Hemingway, which means I’ve read a bunch of him, and the Faulkner I was supposed to read in college remains on my to-read shelves.

This book deals with a group of Mexican-Americans who live in Tortilla Flat, a small, er, suburb of Monterey populated by Mexican Americans. It’s set immediately after the first world war. The main characters are layabouts. It’s not so much a novel as a collection of anecdotes or loosely-related stories, a la Winesburg, Ohio. Actually, considering that the pastime of the main characters is stealing or trading for gallons of wine, perhaps this book should be called Winesburg, California. But it’s not.

To keep with the spirit of the book, I drank much red wine while reading it. The level in my bottle went down, down, and perhaps I enjoyed the book more for it. Still, I couldn’t apply too many lessons of the book to my life, since none of my neighbors have chickens I can steal, and because I like to think my life has more meaning than acquiring money for wine. I’m a Guinness man, don’t you know?

Still, the ultimate point of this book might be that there’s more to life than laying about and drinking. However, the thin characterization and even the thin narration don’t really compel the reader to make those conclusions. It’s sort of like an epidode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. We were lazing about, stealing for wine, and an incident occurred.

Unlike Star Trek: The Next Generation, though, you can sound a bit snooty when you say, “This reminds me of Steinbeck’s Tortilla Flat….” So if you like quick reads in Great American Literature, pick it up. Especially if you can score it as part of a Steinbeck set at $1 each like I did. Werd.

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Book Review: The Far Side Gallery by Gary Larsen (1984)

This book is 20 years old. You like the Far Side? That’s yesterday’s newspaper. The Far Side has been out of business for so long, most young people today–indeed, most in that coveted 18-34 demographic–won’t remember it. Sort of like if you talk about Opus, or Bloom County, or Calvin and Hobbes in five years, or Dilbert in ten or fifteen (although perhaps Dilbert, like Hagar the Horrible, will remain in the funny pages longer than in the culture).

So I’m ashamed that this book is now one of those cultural artifacts I’m fond of reading–especially since I remember it in its pre-artifact days. The wry, outlandish humor remains, but I wonder how much of it would fly in today’s world. Particularly the gags with the mushroom clouds. Of course, in the early eighties, we had a Republican president that contemporary conventional wisdom thought was bringing humanity to the brink of its extinction. Looking back, the sepia-toned memories are less frightening since the bigger story turned out well. But I digress. Mushroom clouds? Not so funny. Office politics and corporate shenanigans? Funny and relevant, for a couple years yet.

Still, the book’s amusing enough in itself. One typically encounters Far Side cartoons individually, tacked on cubicle walls from Far Side calendars (or at least that’s how I encounter them on my beautiful wife‘s cubicle wall). En masse, such as a great book like this, one encounters a greater number of cartoons of varied punchlines, which means the end result is average–wherein the cubicle wall is very selective, choosing one or two cartoons from a year’s worth of cartoons reprinted from several years’ worth of cartoons.

Perhaps I just read this book too quickly (a single night). But I didn’t spend too much on it (4 books for 4 bucks plus shipping and handling from Quality Paperback Club), so I’m pleased with it. If you’re a Far Side fan, it’s worth it. If you’re not, it’s like a collection of Andy Capp’s greatest hits. Well, no, probably a bit better than that since most of us can identify with cattle on the moon better than English ruggers, but you get my point.

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Escalating the Level of Discourse to Violence

Check out John Kerry’s bravado here:

Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry warned his political opponents on Monday against attacking his outspoken wife, Teresa Heinz Kerry, saying, “They’re going to have to go through me.”

That’s a pretty metaphor, Massachusetts. But we here in the midwest respect our elders just enough to not beat them to a pulp when they start talking smack.

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Who Are They Kidding?

Important insight from WebMD Health News:

Commercials featuring topless models with buff bodies and unattainable physiques may make the viewers feel depressed and unhappy with their bodies.

Sound familiar? It is, but this time it’s the men’s turn to feel insecure.

Actually, it doesn’t sound familiar at all, but then again I have what they call “self-esteem” mostly because I have an accurate depiction of why my body is the way it is, and I’m content with it. Sure, I’d like a little flatter stomach, but that would require more time on the gerbil machines and fewer Guinnesses.

So pardon me when I am skeptical when a woman psychologist from Central Florida University intones, seriously:

“The level of muscularity and attractiveness that are idealized in the media often are not attainable for the average man,” says researcher Stacey Tantleff-Dunn, professor of psychology at the University of Central Florida. “Men see more of a discrepancy between how they want to look, or think they need to look, and the image they see in the mirror. Such discrepancies can cause the dissatisfaction and low self-esteem that lead to extreme and often unhealthy actions, such as eating disorders, exercising too much, and steroid abuse.”

You know what I think when I see an idealized level of muscularity and attractiveness in the media? I think, “Hey, I’m in the media!” or “Hey, man, I wish I had time to spend four hours a day in a gym; of course, I would spend it drinking Guinness and reading or napping in a recliner, but the time would be nice.”

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Iraqi Prisoner Abuse

I have not posted on this topic much, gentle readers, because the zone has been quite flooded with floor-to-ceiling coverage of the topic. It’s a bad thing, but not as bad a thing as it’s been made out. The coverage certainly outweighs the offense.

I don’t have anything to add. Read what this guy says about it. He covers it.

(Link seen on Instapundit.)

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Are You Appositive?

Pardon me while I mock the editing of the ABCNews.com piece entitled Aisles of Fraud? Faked Slip-and-Fall Accidents Cost Customers, wherein we find this gem:

Debbie Williams, a fortune teller, was caught faking a fall in aisle nine of a New York City grocery store. Williams — who is also a fortune teller — knew she was going to fall before she walked into the store.

I must be psychic, too, because I knew before the second sentence that Debbie Williams was a fortune teller!

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Some Animals Are More Equal Than Others

Charles Schmucker, senator from a tiny little state called New York, posits more Federal tax money, contributed by people in Mississippi and Wyoming, should go to New York:

The federal government should give New Yorkers unused housing subsidies earmarked for other states, Sen. Charles Schumer said yesterday.

From the many, one, brother, as long as it’s one of the populous states whose overregulation is choking its populace. Put your fingers around my neck, too, please.

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She Turned Me Into A Newt

Newt Gingrich, on OpinionJournal.com, explains a double standard at work:

The media coverage of the violations of American law against Iraqi prisoners is in peril of setting a dangerous double standard for America and the Arab world. The administration must be very careful in explaining how we feel and what we will do. Otherwise our enemies will use our own words as an excuse to exploit this double standard.

To be clear, a very small number of Americans did a terrible thing at Abu Ghraib. And because we live under the rule of law, and we take protecting the Constitution seriously, the accused will be investigated and, when guilty, punished. The incidents themselves are to be condemned.

Some have called for Donald Rumsfeld to resign. However, he has led the process of exposing the wrongdoing and investigating the charges. Moreover, he will see to it that the accused get a fair and honest trial, in which there is a presumption of innocence until guilt is proved and the guilty are punished. That due process is something we as Americans should be proud of, and unequivocal about. In view of Mr. Rumsfeld’s significant contribution to our security, this incident will be but a footnote.

Explaining our anger at these misdeeds and our determination to punish the wrongdoers is appropriate. Appearing overly contrite or overly apologetic, however, will be a big mistake.

What he said.

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Bare and….What’s the Other One?

On the front page of its NewsWatch section, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch offers pro and con, emphasis on the con, of whether another casino would be good for the St. Louis area:

  • (No) Opponents of new casino tell tales of addiction’s toll

    Looking back, Connie realizes she should have seen the problem. Her family members always wanted her to take a separate car to the casinos – they knew she would want to leave long before they did.

    She should have known the $50 here, $100 there that they borrowed was not a coincidence. She had lost a few bucks playing bingo before, she knew grocery bills were hard to cover sometimes. No big deal. They always paid her back.

    Had she been asked three years ago to vote on a new casino in Lemay, where she lives, “heck, yes, I was all for it,” said Connie.

    The loan requests grew larger and more frequent.

    “They ran themselves low on one person, and they couldn’t go to them anymore, so they would start on other people, and pretty soon, I realized they were all hitting on me,” Connie said of her family members.

    None of these relatives had gambling problems before casinos came to the St. Louis area. They had never visited Las Vegas. There was a history of alcoholism in the family, and Connie smoked through three pregnancies before she finally quit.

    “I know about addiction,” she says.

    So we start with an anecdotal lead that, I guess, will support the argument that government should pad the harsh walls of reality to make it safe for the least responsible or intelligent members of society, because if they can, stupid people will do stupid things.

  • (Yes) Supporters for new casino see cash for education

    Last week, Hancock High School Principal Jason Naucke bluntly told his students that if they even considering drinking, don’t bother showing up for the prom. Fifth graders got a one-hour lesson from a police officer about the consequences of joining a gang, the 15th week of a 17-week course urging them to reject drugs and violence.

    Just another week in the “values” curriculum at Hancock Place School District, while the district’s superintendent was pushing for a casino to come to the neighborhood.

    A casino means money, and Superintendent Ed Stewart hasn’t seen enough of that.

    A new “casino” would mean “tax revenue” that “scare-quoted” “educators” could [Please punch up with use of term so-called. –Ed.] use in promoting “values” in their so-called curricula, and the unintelligent educators “educators” don’t capture the “irony” of raising money from gambling while promoting other “values” (which are obviously “scare-quoted” because anything valued by someone other than the journalist is “suspect”). Thus begins the story favoring the casino.

Criminey, I pay money to have this delivered. At least I am getting some use out of it now that hockey season’s over.

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The ‘Hard Emotions’ of Conservation

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch profiles the president of the St. Louis Zoo. The lead: How he fired up his wife to think about conservation:

Perhaps the only wild creatures Melody Noel studied in law school were F. Lee Bailey and Alan Dershowitz. But today, Noel is an expert on penguins, cheetahs and addaxes.

“Farmers in Botswana are shooting cheetahs because they eat their livestock,” Noel said. “It’s going to take some creative solutions and some time to work through the problem.”

Noel has no background in biology, but she is married to St. Louis Zoo president Jeffrey Bonner. And anyone who lives in Bonner’s world – whether for two decades, like Noel, or two years, like the Zoo’s 1,000 employees – invariably adopts his passions.

“I am a perfect example of a convert,” said Noel, who practices domestic law. “These are not things I thought about before, but he knows how to get people fired up.”

You mean, farmers shoot wild cats that attack their domesticated animals? The horror! As mountain lions return to scourge the mountainous country of our own United States, I only hope the farmers in Botswana only use one bullet per cheetah and have a nice, fashionable pelt to wear afterwards.

But what’s the point of the anecdote? The great Mesmero can convince people who would marry him to join him in an inchoate collection of beliefs about the circle of life as it exists outside of Disney cartoons. So what makes him different from any other professor?

Now Bonner wants to convert St. Louisans and one of the city’s most beloved institutions. Soon, he promises, visitors will see a new sort of St. Louis Zoo, one that confronts the destruction of the wild, the slaughter of endangered species and the hard choices the public must face if it wants to change the world. This new Zoo that Bonner envisions looks a lot like the old one: The train still runs, sea lions still flip for fish and Raja still roams the sprawling River’s Edge. But with the fun comes a sober message of conservation and responsibility.

“What we have failed to do is really show people the world around us. In Africa, the loggers are putting in the roads, and the hunters go in with their AK-47s and slaughter every animal they see.

I guess he’s saying that he would prefer Africa to continue with substinence farming, famines, and starvation, since that lack of development didn’t threaten nature.

How daft is he?

To Bonner, who studied anthropology, the human element matters most.

“The environment is never the problem. It’s the people that are the problem – always the people,” he said.

Pretty damn daft, if you ask me. People are always the problem. Except people like him.

“Conservation ultimately requires compromise,” Bonner said. “I think people struggle with that all of the time, but if you look at the big picture, there are ways of balancing your lifestyle with the good you do.”

In Bonner’s case, he drives a sport utility vehicle, eats meat and wears leather shoes.

So he proffers this compromise: cattle farmers, African loggers, everyone outside of a pampered urban setting, you’ve got to do what he and his type dictate, based on theories and “hard emotions.” He, on the other hand, will continue to make six figures, eat meat, drive a sport utility vehicle, wear leather shoes, and promises never to get attacked by a big cat while jogging or allowing his pets or livestock to tempt carnivores. Also, he’s willing to suffer through puff pieces in the newspaper and colleagues who gush:

Jerry Borin, director of the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium, calls Bonner “a big-picture person.”

“He is always two or three steps ahead but he brings people along,” Borin said. “That’s important in the zoo community. We are not that large of an industry, and by nature we have to cooperate.”

That big picture? It’s a large, flattering self-portrait depicting Bonner as nobility, willing to do what’s best for his serfs, whether it’s popular or not.

Update:
What does a mountain lion or cheetah think of a zookeeper who’s not afraid to admit he wears leather?
Atkins-friendly.

Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I am also toying with a global outreach program called “Bullets for Botswana,” but that takes more effort than making jokes.

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A Doctor With Perspective

At the risk of imperiling my marriage, I shall link to this piece, entitled Second Hand Joke, wherein Dr. Sydney Smith recognizes that smoking’s bad, but also that trampling individual rights for abstractions such as “public health” or “the good of the individual” are worse. Read:

Smoking is a filthy habit. It causes bad breath. It stains the fingers and the teeth. It rots the lungs and it takes the breath away. Spend a day in any doctor’s office and you can quickly spot the long time smokers, such is its impact on the body. And death by tobacco is a truly horrible death, with the final days spent gasping for breath and drowning in ones own secretions while the doctors look on helplessly.

And yet, as loathsome as smoking is, it’s hard not to feel sorry for smokers. Every morning I pass small clusters of them in front of the hospital, just around the corner from the “No Smoking” sign, like high school hoodlums who smoke just a step away from school property. Some of them are hospital employees, puffing off job stress during their breaks. Others are patients, with nothing but flimsy hospital gowns and robes to protect them against the elements while they seek solace in tobacco. It seems cruel to make them smoke outside. The hospital has a special room for prayer. Couldn’t they have a special room for smoking?

But then, the world has become a cruel place for smokers. Not only must they huddle outside at work to indulge, they increasingly must also huddle outside when they’re enjoying a night on the town. Over a hundred cities in the U.S. have banned smoking in public places such as bars and nightclubs. Last month, Ireland banned smoking in pubs. Now Scotland is under pressure to do the same, and the EU is flirting with its own ban.

The rationale for these bans is that smoking in public is not only a nuisance for non-smokers, but a health threat. While it’s true that an asthmatic non-smoker may have problems working or relaxing in a smokey bar, anti-smoking advocates have lately drastically stepped up their claims regarding the dangers of second hand smoke. A CDC official, writing in the British Medical Journal warned people with heart disease to avoid all buildings that allowed any smoking, claiming that just thirty minutes of inhaling second hand smoke could cause heart attacks. Apparently, even miniscule amounts of tobacco smoke can turn your coronary arteries from this into this.

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